By Right of Sword

  CHAPTER XIII.

  OLGA IN A NEW LIGHT.

  I walked back to my rooms as I wished to cool my head and think. Theinterview with Christian Tueski had excited me, and what was of moreimportance, had kindled a hope that after all I might be able to escapethe tremendous difficulties that encompassed me.

  One thing in particular pleased me, for it was a double-edged knifeloosening two sets of the complications. It was the promise I hadgiven to the man to respect his wife so long as he kept faith with me.This gave me power over him, and what was of infinitely greater valueto me personally, it was a shrewd defence against the wife also.

  I smiled as I thought of the ingenuity of this; but I little thoughtwhat would be the actual result. It seemed then the shrewdest andcleverest, as well as the most daring thing I had done; but in the endthe consequences were such as might properly have followed an act ofthe grossest stupidity and villainy possible. For the moment itpleased me, however, and I was in truth finding the keenest pleasure inthis parrying of the thrusts which the fates were making at me.

  There was a problem I could not solve, however, in the question of thepower which seemed to be behind the Chief of the Police; the powerwhich made him apparently afraid to strike me openly though so willingto trip me secretly. I could not imagine what it could be, nor whenceit could come.

  When I reached my rooms my sister and Paula Tueski were waiting for mein the greatest anxiety; and both were overjoyed to see me safe andapparently in high spirits. The police agents had been for the fellowI had left under lock and key; and Olga had taken care to carry out myinstructions to the letter. Her quick instincts had warned her, andshe had made a parade of almost affectionate friendship for the otherwoman during the time the men had been present.

  After I arrived she could scarcely take her eyes off me, and I saw themglistening as with tears.

  "I will take you home, directly," I said, carelessly, as a brothermight speak. "But I have something to say first to Madame Tueski; soyou must wait for a few minutes."

  A look of reproach nearly found expression in hasty words, butremembering herself she said hastily, acting the part to the life:--

  "Oh, you're always so mysterious, Alexis. I've no patience with you."

  Then I led the other into my second sitting-room and told her much ofwhat had passed: and when I came to that part of the interview thatimmediately concerned herself, she was very bitter and angry.

  "You think I am a pawn to be moved where you like in your game; of noaccount, and the meanest thing on the board. You and he are both alikein that--but wait. Your life is mine, Alexis. I have told you."

  "But you must surely see that the first consideration must be all ourlives--to say nothing of our safety," I answered, rather roughly, Ifear, and very unsympathetically. Her heroics rasped me. "What thedeuce is the good of your loving me if your husband shuts me up in adungeon, or sends me dancing to Siberia, or causes a dagger to let outmy life blood?"

  "You mean to keep the word you gave him?"

  "Certainly, so long as he keeps his."

  She fixed her large lustrous eyes on me and let them rest on me duringa long pause of silence.

  "You and he together will drive me to some desperate deed," she said,at length, very slowly. "Then perhaps you will learn what a love likemine will dare for your sake. I cannot and will not bear thisseparation."

  She wearied me with these protests, but I said nothing and went on toquestion her as to whether there was any power behind her husbandinfluencing him in regard to me. She knew nothing, but admitted thatshe had her suspicions.

  I told her next that while he was trying to assassinate me, she mightfind the tables turned on him, as there was a Nihilist plot on foot toassassinate him. She paid little heed to it at first, saying thatthere had been many such schemes formed, all of which had provedabortive, because he was most carefully and continuously guarded. Amoment later, however, her manner changed a little, and she questionedme somewhat closely concerning the matter.

  "They don't choose their agents shrewdly in these things," she said,"and we hear too soon of their designs. They should choose a man likeyou, Alexis." She seemed to speak with a hidden meaning, and I wasdoubtful whether she knew anything; but I kept my doubts to myself.

  "If they had done that, I had a rare chance to-night," I answered.

  "A bold man or a reckless woman makes the chance," she retorted in thesame manner. "I am going, Alexis:" she added, and then forced on mecaresses which were vastly repulsive. But I could not reveal my truefeelings until I had at any rate placed Olga in safety. Myindifference and coldness were apparent to the woman, and she upbraidedme with a burst of angry passion, till I had to patch up a sort ofpeace.

  We went back to Olga and soon afterwards drove away, Olga and I settingthe other down at her door.

  So long as Madame Tueski was with us, Olga maintained the part of theimpatient sister; but as soon as we were alone her manner changedaltogether.

  "I had to send for you this evening," I said, "And you saved me from asituation of great difficulty and hazard by coming so promptly. Ithank you for having done so."

  No reply. I glanced at her in the gloomy light in the cab and saw theprofile set hard and immobile, with the lips pressed closely together.

  "Storm signals out," thought I.

  "I was saying I thanked you. You acted with rare discretion and did mea great service."

  Not a word.

  "You were not so silent just now." I hazarded.

  "I was acting--with discretion." She repeated my word with that relishand enjoyment which a well regulated mind always feels about a tellingsarcasm.

  "And what sort of discretion is this?" I retorted, laughing.

  She was silent again.

  "I have a good deal to tell you in explanation."

  "I have no wish to hear anything, thank you," she interposed. "I cantrust your discretion"--much emphasis again on the word--"as completelyas you can mine. I am glad to have been of _use_ to you and MadameTueski." She threw the word "use" at me as if it had been a bomb to beexploded in my face.

  "What have I done that's wrong? I'm very sorry," I said.

  "I beg you not to apologise. You never used to, and as you appear tobe slipping back into your old habits it would be out of character toapologise--to me. I am only to be used."

  "I don't a bit understand you."

  There was a moment's silence, and then she could contain herindignation no longer and burst out with the cause of it.

  "Why didn't you send me home immediately you returned? You couldsurely have given me your servant as an escort. Then you would havespared me the shame and humiliation of waiting during your privateinterchange of confidences with that woman."

  At that instant we stopped at her house.

  "Please not to come in to-night," she said. "I have had to keepcertain things waiting here while I was being of _use_ to you, and wassitting alone in your rooms; and I have now very much to do."

  "I am sorry to trouble you; but I am coming in. This thing must becleared up at once;" and I followed my very angry sister into the house.

  She led the way to a small drawing-room and turning to me said coldly:--

  "I am ready to hear what you wish to say."

  I had been thinking quickly during the interval, and now changed mypoint of attack.

  "I had a very serious thing to say. You gave me your promise...."

  "I would rather you would not remind me of any promises," sheinterrupted. This was said deliberately; but then she broke throughher cold formality, and with a little stamp of her foot finishedangrily:--"I won't keep them. I won't be reminded of them. Things arealtered--altogether altered."

  "What I was going to say is..." I began, when she broke in again.

  "I won't hear it. I don't want to hear any more. I wish you'd goaway."

  "You must hear me," I said quietly, but with some authority in my tone.

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p; "'Must!' I don't understand you."

  "Must--for your own safety."

  "Thank you. I can protect myself. Your other cares andresponsibilities have a prior claim on you. Will you please leave menow?"

  "No, I can't go, until I've told you...."

  "I will not listen! Didn't I tell you?" She was vehemence itself.

  I shrugged my shoulders in despair.

  "This morning..." I began; but the moment I opened my lips she brokeout again with her vehement interruptions.

  "Ah, things were different this morning. I had not then been insulted.Do you forget I am a Russian; and think you can treat me as youwill--keep me waiting while--bah! it is unbearable. Will you go away?Is there no sense of manliness in you that will make you leave me?Must I call for assistance? I will do that if you do not leave me.You can write what you have to say. But, please, spare me the pain ofseeing you again."

  Her words cut me to the quick; but they roused me also.

  "You had better call for assistance," I answered firmly. Then Icrossed to the door, locked it, and put the key in my pocket. "I willspare you the pain of another interview; but now that I am here, Idecline to go until I have explained."

  "You cannot explain," she burst in. The word seemed to madden her.

  "Cannot explain what?"

  "That woman's kisses!"

  The words appeared to leap from her lips involuntarily; and sherepented them as soon as uttered; and drawing herself up she tried toappear cold and stolid. But this attempt failed completely; and in heranger at the thought behind the words and with herself for having givenit utterance, she stood looking at me, her bosom heaving and tossingwith agitation and her face and eyes aglow with an emotion, which witha strange delight, I saw was jealousy.

  There came a long pause, during which I recalled her manner and the wayshe had played with my words, during one of our rides when we hadspoken of Devinsky's proposal to make her his wife.

  I have always been slow to read women's hearts and have generally readthem wrong; but I began to study this with a sense of new and peculiarpleasure.

  She was getting very dear to me for a sister.

  If my guess was right, my conduct with that infernal women, PaulaTueski, must have been gall and wormwood to Olga.

  How should I have relished it had the position been reversed, andDevinsky been in Paula Tueski's place?

  These thoughts which flashed across me in rapid succession produced apeculiar frame of mind. I had stood a minute in silence, not lookingat her, and when I raised my eyes again I was conscious of sensationstoward her, that were altogether different from anything I had feltbefore. She had become more beautiful than ever in my eyes; I, moreeagerly anxious to please and appease; while at bottom there was adormant fear that I might be mistaken in my new reading of her actions,in which was mixed up another fear, not nearly so strong, that heranger on account of Paula Tueski might really end in our beingseparated.

  My first act shewed the change in me.

  I ceased to feel the freedom with which I had hitherto acted the partof brother, and I immediately threw open the door and stood aside thatshe might go out if she wished. Then I said:--

  "Perhaps you are right. My conduct may be inexcusable even to saveyour life."

  Whether there was anything in my manner that touched her--I wasconscious of speaking with much less confidence than usual; or whetherit was the act of unfastening the door: or whether, again, some subtleinfluence had set her thoughts moving in parallel columns to mine, I donot know. But her own manner changed quite as suddenly as mine; andwhen she caught my eyes on her, she flushed and paled with effects thatmade her radiantly beautiful to me.

  She said not a word; and finding this, I continued:--

  "I am sorry a cloud has come between us at the last, and throughsomething that was not less hateful to me because forced by the needsof the case. We have been such friends; but...." here I handed her thepermit--"you must use this at once."

  She took it and read it slowly in silence, and then asked:--

  "How did you get this?"

  "Myself, personally, from the Chief of the Police."

  "Why did you run the mad risk of going to him yourself?"

  "There was no risk--not so much in going to him as in keeping away fromhim. He had tried to have me murdered, and I went to find out thereason."

  "I told you I would not leave."

  "Unless--and the condition now applies--it was necessary for my safety."

  "And you?" The light of fear was in her eyes as she asked this.

  "As soon as you are across the frontier I shall make a dash for myliberty also. I can't go before, because my absence would certainlybring you under suspicion."

  She looked at me again very intently, her head bent slightly forwardand her lips parted with the strain of a new thought; while suspicionof my motive chased the fear for my safety from her face.

  "Is this to get me out of the way? I won't go!"

  "Olga!"

  All my honour for myself and my love for her were in that note ofreproach, and they appeared to waken an echo; for then this moststrange girl threw herself down on to a couch and burying her face inher hands sobbed passionately.

  I turned away from the sight of her emotion--the more painful becauseof the strong self-reserve and force of character she had alwaysshewn--and paced up and down the room. I forced back my own feelingsand the desire to tell her what those feelings were. To do that wouldbe worse than madness. Till we were out of Russia, we were brother andsister and the bar between us was heavier than we could hope to move.

  When the storm of her sobs ceased, she remained for some minutes quitestill: and I would not break the silence, knowing she was fighting herway back to self-possession.

  Presently, she got up and came to me, holding out her hand.

  "I will go, Alexis--we are still firm friends?"--with a little smile ofwistful interrogation. "Can you forgive my temper? I was mad for themoment, I think. But I trust you. I do indeed, absolutely. I knowyou had no thought of insulting me. I know that. I couldn't think someanly of you. It's hard to leave--Russia--and--and everything. Andyou, too--at this time. Must I really go?" A half-beseeching glanceinto my eyes and a pause for the answer I could not give. "Very well.I know what your silence means. Come to-morrow morning--and say"--shestopped again and bit her trembling lips to steady them as she framedthe word--"and say--goodbye to me. And now, please, let me go--brotherand truest friend."

  She wrung my hand, and then before I could prevent her or even guessher intention, she pressed her lips to it and, with the tears again inher eyes, she went quickly away, leaving me to stare after her like ahelpless fool, longing to call her back and tell her everything, andyet afraid.