CHAPTER X TIS BETTER TO BE BORN LUCKY THAN RICH You have been gone a long time, my dear," said Madame. I had begun to be quite anxious about you, and someone has been waiting for you who is becoming oh so impatient. Impatient to see me! Why I shall believe myself to be quite an important individual soon," I returned, with an attempt at a smile, that was so lamentable a failure that Madame's attention was aroused at once. "'What is it, my child?' she asked solicitously. I thought, when you came in, that you were looking extra well. You had such rosy cheeks. Now I see that you are flushed with excitement. How is it? Have you had an adventure? You are trembling all over." "'Yes, I have had an adventure,' I said, my pent-up emotions finding vent in tears, which soon relieved me a little, and were not checked by Madame, who fully understood the value of this outlet for nature's wellsprings of feeling. She was at first somewhat alarmed as to the nature of my adventure, but I speedily reassured her on that score, telling her that I had met an old family servant who had been giving me some news that had upset me for a time. "'Is it very bad news?' she asked. My stepmother is ill, and my sister is going to be married. "'But your stepmother has been ill for some time, and your sister was engaged to be married before you left home.' "'Yes, but both illness and engagement have made progress, and I feel very anxious now about Lady Elizabeth. You must go, and see her soon.  Why, I forgot to make a single inquiry about him. Truly, my perturbation of mind must have been great to make me forget to Jerry. My horror had effaced the memory of my love for the time, and I explained to my mistress that so much that was sensational had been told me that there had been no inclination to bring Jerry into the conversation. "'I shall learn all about him to-morrow,' I concluded. "'As you know, I have written to Mrs. Garth to send me all the news she has, and I should have her reply soon. I will also write to Lady Elizabeth at once, explaining that I am still safe and well. It is just possible that she has been anxious about me, although I wrote her a reassuring letter from the Grange before I came to you. I also gave Mrs. Garth permission to inform her that I had gone to St. Petersburg in safe companionship. "'Not so safe as you thought, eh? But that is all over now. Heaven be thanked.  Perhaps a visit from me might help to tranquilize her mind a little.' "'Dear me, and there is someone else whose mind will want tranquilizing by this time. Sergius is waiting in the drawing-room for you all this while.' "'I would fain have been excused from meeting Sergius just then, for I knew I must be even more un-presentable than usual. But Madame was inexorable, and a minute later I was tet-a-tet with a man in whose company I had begun of late to feel remarkably uncomfortable. It was strange that I should begin to avoid the presence of the only individual of the opposite sex whose lengthened absence was distasteful to me, and that I should become gauche and dull in the society of the one being whose conversation afforded me most happiness. And yet when I come to think of it, there was nothing strange about it after all, though I did not understand myself at the time. I now know that I loved Sergius of Alcofsky with the passion so great that I dreaded a betrayal of my feelings to others, with the consequent humiliation that I thought would be inevitable. He was handsome, I was ugly. He seemed to me to be one of the cleverest men under the sun, while I felt the acquirements of which I had formerly been so proud to be little more than a rudimentary education. Thanks to his prudent foresight he had lost but a small proportion of the wealth which he had inherited from his father, and I was a penniless girl whom disagreement with her family had compelled to go forth to earn her own livelihood. No wonder I felt miserable when I pictured the different fate that might have been mine had I but possessed a fair share of nature's bounties, and no wonder that I shrank in anticipation from the joyless existence foreshadowed in an unloved future. I truly loved my old earl, but my love was based entirely on gratitude and esteem. Such love is honest, honorable, and pleasant to behold. It is also lasting and durable, if permitted to flow on in a gentle, uninterrupted current. But if its possessor be of an ardent nature it is as easily dispelled by a sudden passion as is froth on the surface of the breakers, and I know now how feeble is the love borne of gratitude compared to the love one feels for one's ideal. There are some women so constituted that passion is powerless to assail them, and upon the whole it is well for them that it should be so, for their lives run on in quiet, contented grooves that afford them every satisfaction. But ask the woman of a more ardent nature if she would barter her hopes and dreams and possible disappointments for the humdrum existence associated in her mind with quiet affection. She will answer emphatically in the negative. It was so with me now. Having once seen and known Sergius Valkovsky I could but marvel how I could ever have contemplated marrying a man old enough to be my grandfather. Having arrived at this state of mind, my recollections of my past disappointments lost all their bitterness, and I could but feel thankful that my passion for Sergius, feign as it seemed, was not of an unlawful nature since I had as yet made vows of allegiance to no other man. But I was not thinking of all this in detail when I entered the room in which Sergius had been waiting so long for me. I am sorry, I said, that I was not here to receive you when you asked for me. I am also very curious to know the nature of the business which could actually make you wait half an hour and more to see me. He sprang up to greet me, his pleasant smile and warm hand-clasp being enough to dispel the most obstinate spirits. His glance, too, was so ardent that I felt the color rush to my cheeks, and instinctively lowered my eyelids that he might not see what power he had over my feelings. I have not been dull while you were out. My friends have taken care of that, but I have that to say to you which made me very impatient for your arrival. Now that you are here, I am not in such a hurry to disburden myself lest I be sent away in disgrace. But first, tell me what I have been doing to offend you lately. Afend me? How could you offend me, I asked, with such genuine surprise on my face that he could but see I was in earnest. Then why, he continued, this time taking my hands in his, as if to command my attention more effectually, why have you been so stiff and distant with me? How do you account for that? How did I account for it? To this day I am unable to tell. I only know, that amazing as it may seem, Sergius loved me and desired nothing so much as to spend the rest of his life with me. Of course I urged my own unfitness for the honor of becoming his wife. But my feeble remonstrances were so vigorously combated that at last I was able to believe myself to be as truly beloved as the most beautiful and perfect woman could wish. There was now only one possible hindrance to my perfect happiness. Belle's secret must not be divulged in its entirety. But I could not accept an honorable man without warning him that possible disgrace, deserved disgrace, threatened my family, disgrace moreover of so deadly a nature that a nation would recoil in horror from the contemplation of it. I have heard all your history from Madame Carniac and can thus form some faint idea of the nature of the disgrace you hint at. It has some connection with the sudden death of the late Earl of Greatlands. You see, I know all about him, and I am not at all jealous of the affection you felt for the poor old man. But you have suffered enough in connection with that business, and anything that your sister may have been accessory to must be expiated by herself, not by you, nor by me, whose happiness depends on becoming your husband. So said Sergius. I know of nobody so young who is half so wise and clever as Sergius. So why should I stand in the light of our mutual happiness? Truly, it would have been sheer folly. Therefore when I went to bed that night it was as the promised bride of a man any woman would have been proud to win. There had been much congratulation on the part of the Carniacs, who smilingly asserted that they had seen all the time, which way the wind was blowing. In the evening we had a call from the Prince and Princess Michaelo, who warmly welcomed me as one who was speedily to become a relative. Not for a long time, I said, feeling just a little embarrassed, because I could not prevent my face from looking ridiculously happy. I am going to remain with Madame until all the South American and Australian business is settled. But suppose Madame no longer wants you, observed Sergius mischievously. But you see she does want me. That remains to be proved. I believe a little bird has already whispered something to me about alteration of plans since you came in this afternoon. It is quite true, supplemented Madame. What I said this afternoon to you about not leaving us was sincerely meant, but while you and Sergius were making your future arrangements, Victor and I decided that life would not be worth living so long apart. Sofeo and I are going to South America with him, and may probably stay there much longer than Victor would care to stay without us. Meanwhile, said Nina, you are to stay with us as our guest, until Sergius gets a house nicely furnished for you. And your visit is to be a short one, a fortnight at the most. I shall make upholsterers and decorators fly around so that when we return from our wedding trip, you will find everything to your liking. So said Sergius, and since everybody seemed inclined to dispose of me so unceremoniously, I could but utter very feeble protests and virtually surrender myself to their management. I only made one stipulation. My marriage was be as private as possible. My happiness seemed too great to be true, and I had a vague feeling that, if fate should dash the cup from me, I could best bear it with few onlookers. The feeling may have been morbid, but my past experience must plead my excuse. The next morning lessons for Feo were out of the question. We elders had so much to talk about, and so many plans to discuss, that Madame told Tricia to take the child for a walk while we completed our arrangements. Tricia had been offered the option of joining her own people, who are now in Germany, but had preferred to travel with Madame in the capacity of maid. So her immediate future was disposed of also. The Carniacs would have liked to stay to the wedding, but considered it advisable to secure a passage and a quick boat that was sailing in four days. There was thus little time for preparation. But I rendered all the help I could, and be sure that my dear friends and I parted from each other with tears of regret, though we expected to have the happiness of seeing each other again some day. I had had two letters from Mrs. Garth, in which she informed me that Lady Elizabeth was very much better, that Belle was more beautiful than ever, and apparently very much delighted at the approaching consummation of her ambitious projects. Jerry was at home, and was a jolly little fellow, but said that the Grange wasn't like home without Dory. My father, too, I was told, had fretted somewhat about me, having evidently come to the conclusion that his treatment of me had not been the exclusive outcome of wisdom. I am sure, continued Mrs. Garth, that if you were to return home now, your father would welcome you as gladly as would Jerry and Lady Elizabeth. Of your sister's sentiments I know nothing, as she holds herself very much aloof from me. I have an idea that she dislikes me. By the by, you remember May Morris? She is going to marry Mr. Graham, the young doctor. He has bought a practice at Brightburn, and will take his bride Zither next week. I was very much amused when I remember May's rhapsodies about the actor, but had no doubts that a healthy affection for a good man who loved her would oust all the rubbishy romance with which she had formerly been filled. It was good news to hear that my stepmother's health had improved so much. I could but hope that the improvement might continue, and that she might be spared all knowledge relating to the particulars of her father's death. I resolved that when I saw her again, I would indirectly try to set her mind at rest on the subject by explaining the irrational and unfounded nature of the suspicions I had in my bitter sorrow shared with her. Her illness had always struck me as having a mental origin, and I concluded, since she was improving, that she was already inclined to think the best of her brother and Belle. I was just revolving all this in my mind and thinking how glad I would be to go to the Grange again when a servant announced a visitor for me, and my father came quickly into the room in which I sat. I was not wholly surprised by his visit, for both Sir G. S. and I had written to him, giving him the particulars of our engagement and asking his consent to our immediate marriage. But if I had expected anything like a demonstrative greeting from him, I was disappointed, for he merely touched my hand, as though I had been a comparative stranger, and then plunged straight into the business which had brought him hither. I have, after an unwarrantable silence on your part, he said, in a letter of so extraordinary a tenor, that I have decided to answer it in person. You say you have promised to marry an individual who calls himself Count Volkovsky. What proof have you that he is a genuine Count? I can refer you to his cousin, Prince Alexander Michaelow, from whose house we are to be married. There are plenty of people in London who will give you proofs of the genuineness of both titles. A prince! You seem to have the knack of ingratiating yourself with the aristocracy.  Your hair curled in that fashion looks rather pretty than otherwise. Still, I can't see what even an old and decrepit nobleman can see in you. He might get a professional nurse at much less expense. My father had always trampled on my feelings without the slightest compunction, and his sneers had left many a bitter wound behind. But these were all healed now, and he had lost the power to hurt me. For the first time in my life his depreciation of me evoked nothing but a feeling of triumph. I simply rose and rang the bell, and, on its being answered, asked the servant if Count Volkovsky had arrived yet. On being answered in the affirmative I went to see if he would favour us with his company for a moment. And tell Mr. and Madame Carniak that I would be glad if they would permit me to introduce my father to their notice, I said, as the servant was leaving the room. I shall never forget my father's look of indignant surprise when I spoke of introducing him to the notice of my friends. I was amply avenged for many a cut I had received, and was also convinced that in future he would treat me with a little more consideration. But he evidently regarded me principally as Bell's rival, and even when he, later in the day, set off to return to Courtney Grange, he was, I am sure, feeling both perplexed and sore at the idea of the apparent facility I possessed for at least equaling, if not surpassing, his beautiful darling's opportunities of happiness. He had also taken it for granted that my fiance was some undesirable individual whose motive in marrying me was self-interest of some sort, and I smile yet when I remember how astonished he was when Sergius confronted him, and asked him in so courtly a fashion for his consent to his marriage with his youngest daughter. Of course that consent was given, and very glad I was, too. Though I was not anxious to see Bell again, I was thankful to be reconciled with my family, as Jerry and Lady Elizabeth were too dear to me to be given up entirely. The day after my father's visit to me witnessed the departure of the Carniacs to Chile, and my temporary installation in the house of Prince Michelot. My second trousseau was already in active preparation. Madame Carniac and Princess Nina had insisted on making me handsome presents to compensate me for the wardrobe I had lost, they said. Lady Elizabeth also sensed me the most affectionate letter imaginable. So far from resenting the fact that I was about to marry a man whom I regarded with much warmer feelings than the mild affection which I had entertained for the poor old Earl, she rejoiced with me at my good fortune in having won the love of such a man as Sergius. She was also good enough to say that I fully deserved my happiness, and as an endorsement of her approval of the whole arrangement, she enclosed a check for one hundred pounds as her wedding present. Thus armed with the approbation of my friends, and all the necessary sinews of war, I entered the world of preparation with the lightest of hearts and the brightest of prospects. Sometimes my busy fingers would stay their work, and a cloud of dread and apprehension would settle on my brain. Was it possible that I, utterly lacking outward beauty, and until lately the most unloved of beings, was really and truly the one and only woman with whom Sergius could be happy? Had he never loved another woman? And if he had, was she not sure to have been beautiful? When I remembered how truly artistic was my lover's temperament, it seemed incredible to me that he could be perfectly contented with a wife whose chief function in society seemed to be to act as a foil to those women whom nature had endowed more liberally without word charms. And if the time were to come when it would become incumbent upon me to recognize a conviction that Sergius had mistaken his sentiments for me, and that he regretted his precipitancy, how would I be able to bear my life? Suppose, after the irrevocable knot was tied, my husband were to wake up some day to the knowledge that he loved another woman. Suppose, but by the time I had thus foolishly and fruitlessly tormented myself, it was beyond my power to endure even the thought of another, self-stabbing supposition, and a reaction invariably set in. Surely Sergius, who was chivalry, gentleness, and bravery personified, and who was esteemed by all his friends for his powers of observation, and his clear, cool insight into human nature, would not be lie his character just where I was concerned. To believe it was, to doubt all his good qualities, and I rated myself an ingrate for entertaining such heretical sentiments for one moment. If the reader is inclined to subscribe to this last opinion, perhaps he or she will kindly credit fate with at least a portion of the mental perversity which at times tormented me almost beyond endurance. It had been so often impressed upon me all my life that I could never hope to win the true and lasting regard of any man, that it was surely natural for me to doubt the endurance of the happiness which seemed to be within my grasp. But these freaks of fancy could not withstand the sunny presence of my worshipped Sergius himself, who was apt to flatter me almost as much as the Earl of Greatlands had done, and who seemed never to tire of praising the now luxuriant silken rings of my hair, my long-lashed expressive eyes, and my graceful figure, not to speak of my rich olive complexion. On most of these counts I let him talk without protest on my part. Although I knew that his opinion of me was ridiculously disproportionate to my desserts, my anxiously observant eyes could not blind themselves to the fact that my outward pre-sentiment was a vast improvement upon its old self. When Sergius actually ventured to praise my face, and above all my inveterately snubby nose, I put down his flatteries with a firm hand. It was in vain for him to quote Tennyson and speak of my unfortunate organ as tip-tilted. There are degrees and proportions of tip-tiltedness, and I had measured the depths of unhappiness too often through that hideous nose to allow my vanity to persuade me into believing its disabilities removed. Until I was no longer miserable about it, indeed I grew rather proud of it than otherwise. For if that nose had not the power to repel Sergius, it was henceforth to be regarded as the most prominent existing proof of the genuineness of his affection. And after all, what mattered it, since, when the glamour of self-torment was off me, I knew myself to be my lover's idol in the hope of his existence, miraculous though such a state of things seemed. My friends, too, were of the kindest and most considerate ones of the earth. Thus there seemed nothing to hinder me from being perfectly happy, and as my wedding-day approached nearer and nearer, I grew more and more confident of the future. For neither envy nor hatred conspired to wreck my prospects, as had been the case before the dawning of that other wedding-day. I was writing to Lady Elizabeth to express my regret at her inability to come to the wedding, and to thank her for her generosity and good wishes, when Sergius was announced, and I hastily finished and sealed my missive. For was not this the last day of my spinsterhood, and did I not owe my beloved every moment I could spare? I hope you have finished all your preparations, sweetheart, and that no one else expects any attention from you today, said Sergius, for I mean to monopolize you altogether. Indeed you won't, for Nina won't see me for some time after tomorrow, and has exacted a promise from me that I would go with her to choose her the very latest wedding-present to me. So you will have to spare me for an hour or two. And indeed I won't, just picture your being selfish enough to want to go off without me. You shall do your shopping, but you must do it in my company. For oddly enough I also have a fancy that you should choose your most prized wedding-present from me yourself, and we can make one expedition of it. Oh, here is our gracious princess herself. She will agree to all I propose, I know. I must first know what it is you propose, smiled with the princess Nina, who had just entered the room, Prince Michaelot, following closely in her wake. I don't like to make promises in the dark. Sergius wants to go shopping with us, I explained. Oh, as for that I mean to go too, said the prince. If Sergius will look just a shade less bright-groomy, he may also make one of the party. The prince's sally at Sergius's ecstatically happy look was received with a laugh by us all, and half an hour later we were all four being driven toward Piccadilly, behind a pair of splendid bays. Then ensued a series of excursions into various west-end establishments that was even more odd than it was delightful, which is saying much. For it was strange to me to feel myself the courted and petted object of attention on the part of three such splendid specimens of humanity as my betrothed and princess Michaelot. Probably others also noted the disparity in our appearance and commented on it after their own fashion. But my companions were too agreeably employed to pay attention to much beyond the business at hand, and so many presents were lavished upon me that I found it necessary to enter a protest. We were all just leaving a Regent Street Jewelers' shop, laboratory to re-entering the carriage for our homeward drive, when Princess Nina suddenly said to me in a low voice, What a beautiful woman! and she seems to know you, who is she? I looked up hastily, and was confronted by my sister and her intended husband. For an instant I hesitated whether to return Bell's stare of haughty recognition by a conciliatory movement or not. My hesitation proved my salvation from what would have been an intolerable humiliation. The Earl of Greatlands and Miss Courtney passed on without vouchsafing me anything but the disapproving look due to an obnoxious stranger, rather than to a sister, and we had entered our carriage before I had had time to answer Nina's question. I felt the blood leave my face at thus meeting my mother's child as a stranger, and Nina was quick to see that I was strangely moved by the encounter. She looked the question she did not care to trouble me by repeating, and I tried to answer her in as unmoved a voice as possible. That was my sister who passed us, and the gentleman who was with her is the Earl of Greatlands. Huh! I thought as much, put insurgious. I was just thinking that the woman approaching us would have been quite handsome if her face had been less soulless when I saw her flash such a malignant look at my Dora as is never seen on the face of the good, and which a stranger certainly could not evoke. I don't envy my Lord Greatlands. And I would not like to be in Miss Courtney's shoes, said Nina. For her affianced looks just like one of my father's parishioners used to look. He had been both wicked and dissipated, and finished his career in a madhouse. We will, however, hope that your sister, when married, will find her husband more desirable than he looks. Alas! I knew too well how little happiness the future could really have in store for my misguided sister and the unhappy man who had succumbed to her evil influence. The latter looked even more ill than I had expected to see him, and I doubted whether the hunting remorse from which she suffered would not soon drive his reason from its throne. And Belle, how could she comport herself with such queenly pride and with such an air of self-satisfaction as she was wearing just now? It was inexplicable to me. But though the puzzle was beyond my comprehension, it had the power to dampen my joy for the rest of the day. I would much rather have been spared the sight of my enemy on my wedding eve, and for the life of me I could not help wondering whether her presence in London would not prove an ill omen for me. Of course the fancy was silly, but there it was, and I could not banish it. Still, though I was less happy than before, I did not wish to spoil the pleasure of my companions, and for their sakes I feigned a gaiety I no longer felt. As we were being driven slowly past Hyde Park corner, on our way back to Kensington, something else occurred to cause me an accession of surprise not unmixed with dread. A woman was waiting to cross the road as soon as it should be safe to do so. She was carelessly glancing at the occupants of the carriages which passed her, and I was just thinking how handsome she was, and with what perfect taste she was dressed, when I felt a convulsive pressure of the hand which was clasping mine. I looked up to see that Sergius had turned deadly pale, and that he hastily leaned back and turned his head away from the stranger. But he was too late. She had seen him. Moreover he was no stranger to her, as I could tell by the swift recognition which flashed across her features, and by a hasty forward movement that she made, as if to intercept our progress. The princess was not noticing the by-play, but that Prince Michael had seen and recognized the stranger I knew by the glances of dismayed intelligence which he exchanged with my fiancée. Soon after this we were back at the house of my generous friends, and three of us at least were less lighthearted than when we set out early in the afternoon. That evening I could not dismiss the stranger from my mind. Who was she, and what acquaintance could she have with Count Volkovsky, who had been in London so short a time? But the prince knew her too, and both men had been distinctly dismayed when they saw her. Sergius had been so little away from me since we came to London that he could not have made many acquaintances of whom I did not know. Was it possible that he had known her in Russia? Nay, was it possible that this was the unknown rival in my lover's affections which my jealous fancie had painted? And if so, how could he have transferred his regard from so handsome a woman to my insignificant self? And in this question I found consolation and hope for my own future. For Sergius must love me, for he would not have been anxious to marry one so utterly devoid of physical and pecuniary attractions as I was. Not that I ever dreamed that he could be mercenary, but I had of late taken positive pleasure in the reflection that I owed my happiness to no external advantage which time or ill fortune could destroy. And yet how could I marry the man I loved, if thereby I condemned another woman who perhaps loved him equally well to the misery of desertion? I could not reconcile it to my conscience to do this cruel thing, so I took an opportunity of satisfying myself on that point before Sergius went back to his hotel for the night. Do you know, I said to him, I do not want you to think me intrusive, but I saw the young lady at Hyde Park Corner who seems to be an old friend of yours, and whom you seemed to wish to avoid. Tell me, for God's sake, what is she to you? You saw her? He said, looking more startled than I liked to see. Yes, what is she to you? I think, for the sake of your own peace of mind, that you had better not ask me. But I must know, have you ever been her lover? If so, I must give you up to her, for I cannot purchase my paradise at the expense of another woman's salvation. My darling, there spoke the noble woman whom I love, and whom, God helping me, I mean to cherish through life. Thank heaven, my past holds no dark secrets of that sort. It has been turbulent and full of danger, but I swear before God my love was given to no woman until I met you. Now, are you satisfied? Yes, I am satisfied, I said, and I sank into his arms with a sob of relief which showed how terrible a phase of dread I had just passed through. You not a child, said Sergius fondly. How could you speak deliberately of giving me up to another woman?  I would fight for my rights till the last breath. You have promised to marry me, and I will give you up to no one living. You are mine, mine alone. After this, my doubts being all dispelled, I was happy once more, and bade Sergius good night with the exulting conviction that henceforth the whole of my life would be spent in his beloved society. My wedding morn dawned bright and cloudless, and nothing intervened to prevent my marriage this time. My father came as the sole representative of my family and explained that Lady Elizabeth had a severe cold which detained her at home. Otherwise she would have come up to town for the wedding. Belle was in London, he said, in answer to my inquiry, doing some shopping, but there was no reference made by either of us as to her absence on the occasion of her sister's marriage. Jerry had sent me a letter full of regrets at his own enforced absence, all couched in his own boyish style, and he supplemented these regrets by the promise of a long visit to me at Christmas. Dear boy, it did me good to read his affectionate chatter. My father made himself uncommonly agreeable to my friends, and I think that he must have begun to doubt the correctness of his own opinions concerning me, when he saw the esteem in which others held his hitherto despised daughter. He pressed Sergius and myself, so cordially, to come on a visit to the Grange, that I thought it would perhaps be better to bury the hatchet, even though I was inwardly convinced that if my friends had been of low rank, and that if we had been a struggling clerk and his wife, instead of the Count and Countess Volkovsky, he would still have preferred our absence to our company. We were going to Torquay for a short honeymoon, after which we were to settle down in the luxurious home already prepared for our reception. As I changed my bridal gown for the dress in which I was to travel, I contrasted my present bliss with the unhappy time which already seemed to belong to the limbo of a better to be forgotten past, and thanked God that I had won the love of so good and true a man as Sergius. Sergius had laughingly bid me to make haste with my toilet, as he was in a fever of impatience to have me to himself, and to feel that he really had secured the object he loved.  On going to the drawing-room again I expected to encounter only Sergius and the Prince and Princess Michaelot, for my father had already taken his leave. But how shall I describe the sudden shock I experienced when I saw that Sergius was absent, and that both my friends were such a look of commiseration and distress as convinced me that something terrible had again happened to me? Where is Sergius? What has happened? I exclaimed, in sudden panic. For a moment neither of those who my questions spoke. Then the Prince came forward, and glassping both my hands in his, said gently, You must take heart, my child. Nothing dreadful has happened to your husband. Then why is he not here? And why do your looks belay your words? Sergius has had an unexpected summons. Away from me. Yes, he has been compelled to go to Russia. To Russia, to Russia whether he had only just escaped of all places, and without a word of farewell to me, his bride of an hour? Surely fate was sporting with me, when for the second time she robbed me of a husband on my bridal day. But this stroke was harder than the other. The poor old Earl had been claimed by death. Sergius had left me, apparently of his own free will, and in the fullness of health and strength. Who or what was it that had a stronger claim upon him than I had? CHAPTER XI. THE GRIP OF DEATH I verily believe that for the space of half an hour I was beside myself, but so far from being violent under my emotions, I was stunned by them, and rendered temporarily incapable of connected thought, Prince Michaelo was, I think, unable to endure the look of anguish which my face must have borne. For, after whispering a few words to his wife, he quitted the room, wearing an expression which even my dulled senses were able to construe into a conviction of the hopelessness of expecting to see Sergius again. The Prince's Nina sat down beside me, clasped my hands in hers, and comforted me more by her sympathetic attitude than words could have done, presently my thoughts were able to collect themselves again, and I began to question Nina eagerly. How long has Sergius known that he would have to go back to Russia only a few minutes before he left? Why did he not bid me goodbye first? He had not time. The summons was urgent. Besides, he loves you so dearly that he could not have borne to witness your distress at his departure. If he loved me half so dearly as you say, he would not have forsaken me at anybody's call, but he was compelled to go. It was his sacred duty to do so, then he ought to have taken me with him. If he is in danger, who so fit to bear him company as his wife? And to whom can he owe a more sacred duty than to me? Have I not been told more than once that all his near relatives are dead? Then who is there left to call him from me? Ah, now I have it. It is the woman whom I saw recognize him at Hyde Park Corner, and whom he tried to avoid. Who is she? My dear child, now you ask of me more than I know, but you may rest assured upon this point, if any woman exerts influence over him, and has used that influence to bring about your husband's return to Russia, her motive and power are purely political. You know that Sergius has been very much involved with secret societies, and your knowledge of his character ought to assure you that nothing but the most irresistible claims upon him could have induced him to leave you at this juncture. To return to a country of which every inch is fraught with danger to him, then I ought to be with him. Is it right that I should remain in a land of peace and safety while he rushes into the jaws of death? My dear child, his chances of security are much better while he is alone, if you are with him. He would perhaps have to neglect the duty to which he is called, in order to watch over your safety. And suppose he did, then he would meet certain and speedy death which you would no doubt share. I don't understand you. Perhaps not. I had better be more explicit. Years ago, your husband joined a society which had, for its object, the removal of the Emperor Alexander. It is one of the rules of this society that its members shall unhesitatingly perform any duty which the Executive Council may deem necessary for the welfare of the country. A ballot decides which of the members shall undertake any given task. Sergius has hitherto escaped the ballot. Even as he almost ran from the house, he said that his turn had come, that he could not bid you farewell himself, and that if we never saw him again, we would know that he had done his duty.  But I know your strong sense of what is right, and I'm sure that you would rather think of Sergius as dead than as one who could betray either his country or his wife. Think of him as dead? Sometimes, when I remember that scene, I wonder how it is that I did not go mad, or that the phantom, mockery of joy, which had again eluded me, did not leave brain and heart alike, seared with hatred of all mankind. But after all, both hearts and brains can bear an enormous strain ere they fail their owners, and mine proved themselves to be at least of average strength. They both survived this new ordeal. And soon after this I was back in my dressing room, anxiously trying to reduce into less chaotic sequence the thoughts which chased each other through my mind. Was Sergius really lost to me forever? And was the errand he was bent upon as terrible as Nina's words suggested? Alas, what room for doubt was left me? He belonged to a secret society, which had for its object the removal of the Emperor Alexander. There was only one way in which an obscure society could compass that removal. Its members would no doubt term it justice. The world would call it assassination. But to me, the contemplated deed had only one name by which it could be fitly designated murder. That was what was meant. And look where I would. That self-same word stared me in the face with demonic persistence. Murder. Good heaven. Was my whole life to be darkened by its foul environment? Did not my poor old Earl become its victim? And was not my own sister an object of secret horror to me because I knew her to have worshipped at its shrine? And now my newly wedded husband, who was dearer to me than ought else on the face of the earth, was being drawn into its fearsome toils. What was it to me that he believed this are to be a tyrant and oppressor? And that he was but doing the bidding of his superiors in office? Whatever the motive, or whatever the provocation, the deed would be the same. I have, I think, a strong sense of the duty owing to one's country, but if a Charlotte Corday had been my Ancestris, I should have made a very degenerate descendant, for I prefer moral suasion to physical force, and the assassination of the most objectionable tyrant would weigh on my conscience like lead, and, since Sergius was now part and parcel of my being, everything that touched him touched me. Could I bear the thought that the guilt of murder lay on his conscience? On our conscience. I knew that I could not, and I prayed God to forbid that this evil thing should come to pass. Prayer alone would not avail me. I knew, since God helps those who help themselves, I must act. If I would compass my desire, yet what, after all, could I do? After an hour's almost maddened thought, I succeeded in forming something like a definite plan of action. I would follow Sergius as quickly as a fast, through service could take me. As to wither, I was to follow him, must be speedily discovered, else I might arrive on the spot too late to effect my purpose. Said purpose was to frustrate the errand upon which my husband had been summoned. If I succeeded in doing so, what would be the consequences to him? Would the secret society to which he belonged, on finding its mandates outraged, avenge itself upon him, and would the salvation of his soul from blood-guiltiness prove his own death now? Truly it was hard for me to know my own duty, but in one respect I did not hesitate. I was determined to follow my husband to Russia as soon as possible. In order that, if an opportunity offered, I might at least be on the spot to do what seemed right. But first, I must discover exactly where Sergius had gone to, and I must so comport myself as to hide my real intentions from Prince Michaelot and his wife, otherwise they might decline to give me the information I sought. Hence I could not expect them to enter into all my thoughts and feelings respecting my husband's expedition. Thus it happened that my outward bearing was that of one who was already resigned to her fate, when I begged them to give me some information that would enable me to picture the whereabout of my husband until he returned to me. I knew that my friends had very faint hopes that he would ever return, but they were also acting apart. They wished to blind me concerning the real gravity of the situation. In order to preserve me from the shock of sudden hopeless bereavement, the interview was, in fact, a little comedy which had for its motif the enshroudment of a terrible tragedy. But it sufficed my purpose. I learned all that my friends could tell me, and when I begged to be excused from dining with my hosts, on the plea of being too ill and sick at heart for any society but my own, I was not wasting my time in self-indulgent grief, as was imagined, but was hastily gathering together everything that I could conveniently take which would be necessary for a long journey. I had even room to feel thankful that I had received so many valuable presents of jewelry, which might, on occasion, be turned into cash, and that the generosity of my friends had prevented me from spending much of the money which Lady Elizabeth had sent to me. Neither money nor jewelry took up much room, and it was an object with me to be as unencumbered as possible. I already knew something of the exegesis of sudden departures, and had no mind to take anything that would hinder my progress. Luckily, for my present purpose, Sergius and I, in view of a possible continental trip, had studied Bradshaw to some purpose lately. But I now had little difficulty in extracting some information that would guide me to Moscow, wither I was told that Sergius had gone. My newly engaged maid was not a little bewildered by the turn of events, but she proved amenable to reason and did as she was bid without questioning. I told her to fetch me a handsome, and to tell the driver to stop at the tradesmen's entrance where my portman, too, was put into the vehicle, then accompanied by my maid. I also went out by the tradesmen's entrance, my object in doing so, being to escape the observation of the Prince and Princess Michaelot, who might have noticed my departure from the front door, and who would then assuredly have tried to dissuade me from following Sergius. On arriving at Victoria Station, I found that I had thirty-five minutes to spare, this I occupied in visiting a hairdresser's shop in the vicinity. Here I was enabled to purchase a gray wig and sundry, etc., which would effectually transform my outward semblance. Into that of a staid, elderly lady who would not be thought unfit to travel on escorted, I had already purchased a quiet black bonnet and a long black cloak from my maid, and felt sure that my ultimate transformation would be complete enough to deceive even Sergius if he saw me. At half-past eight I left Victoria, after giving the maid some messages for the Michaelos, she was to tell them that I thanked them for all their kindness to me, and that I felt it to be my duty to join my husband at once without risking the delay which even my best-wishers might possibly consider advisable. I was not without hope that I might see Sergius even before I left the boat, or at all events, before I had been long in route. But he had probably not taken the same direction that I was taking, and I felt bitterly disappointed when I failed to overtake him. I was at Brussels by five o'clock in the morning, and twelve hours later was in Cologne. The next morning saw me on the way to Berlin, and I pushed on thence to Alexandrevo with as little delay as possible. I represented myself as an English lady on her way to Moscow to visit her sister's family, and had not much difficulty in obtaining a passport. In two hours from leaving Alexandrevo I was in Warsaw. Now that I had crossed the frontier I was in momentary dread of betraying myself by over-anxiety, and did my best to appear as careless and joy-expecting as if I verily expected nothing more exciting than a reunion with my sister. But in Warsaw I felt so ill with suspense, disappointment, and travel fatigue that I was compelled to rest at a hotel for a day in order to recruit my strength sufficiently to complete my long journey without a breakdown. Two days later I reached Moscow via Smolensk, and then the fever of unrest and anxiety allowed me no ease for a time. Suppose Sergius were not here, after all. Because some accident had befallen him, and I had actually passed him on the way. In fact, no end of supposition suggested themselves to me. As I drove to a hotel in which Sergius had, I knew, found a safe resting place on more than one occasion. Now I did not expect to encounter my husband at the public table, the Oat, nor, indeed, in any of the public rooms. He had come upon a secret errand, and he was not likely to ruin his chances of executing that errand by leading to open a life. I felt the burning blush of double-distilled shame on my cheeks, even as I thought this. Shame at the idea of anyone whom I loved lending himself to crime, even at his country's bidding, and shame that I, so much the inferior of Count Sergius Volkovsky, should dare to judge him by my own inexperienced standard of right and morality. Perhaps, when I knew all his reasons for coming hither, I might even sanction the fulfillment of his task, perhaps. But here I suddenly pulled myself up in horror. For was I not approaching perilously, near to a line of argument, which might ruin my peace of mind forever? Sanction murder? How could I, for one single moment, imagine myself capable of such an iniquity? Rest and comfortable refreshment did wonders for me. And on the day after my arrival in Moscow, I sat in the salon, eagerly scanning a German paper which the hotel management had provided for the use of visitors. From it I gathered that the Tsar was expected in Moscow, but that some rearrangement of plans at St. Petersburg had caused a postponement of the imperial visit. How utterly unlikely it would have seemed to those around me that the Emperor's visit to Moscow could possibly concern me. And yet, what a peon of thankfulness rose from my heart as I realized that this postponement of which I had just read meant the deferring of what might prove the greatest tragedy of my life. I knew that Sergius could not hope to enter St. Petersburg without detection, and that it was hardly likely that those who at the present time had the power to direct his movements would order him tither. Since he was so well known there, and had already been denounced to the government, this delay gave me a chance of meeting him soon, and of at least trying to weigh my influence against that of the terrible secret society of which he was a member. On the second day of my stay in Moscow, my wish was gratified. I saw my beloved in the flesh, safe and well, and yet incredible as it seems to me now. I gave no outward sign of the rapture which filled my breast, but my love was so keen that it could have penetrated even more elaborate disguises than the one he had adopted, while it was so cautious that not even to himself would I betray my knowledge of him until I could feel sure that no mortal I but ours beheld our meeting. As I had expected, he was an inmate of the same hotel in which I had pitched my temporary habitation, and when I first saw him there he was emerging from the room next to mine, just as I approached my room door after partaking a breakfast in the coffee room. There were other people in the corridor at the time, so I quietly entered my own apartment and closed the door behind me. So I would have been too visible if I had done otherwise. But I knew that I should see Sergius again, for I knew also that he was certain to remain in Moscow until the expected visit of the Tsar took place. Now that I had discovered the very location of his room, it would be easy for me to watch his movements, or at least so I thought. It was, however, nearly nightfall ere I, peeping through the chink of my partially open door, saw him return to his own room. And even then it was impossible for me to make myself known to him, for he was accompanied by a stranger who might be either friend or foe for anything I knew. So I waited per force with augmented impatience until my longed for opportunity should come. It was very hard to know that he was within a few feet of me, yet separated from me by the barriers of caution and expediency for an indefinite period, how astonished he would be when he learned how very near I was to him, and what hopes I pitched upon my persuasive powers. No wonder that my impatience rose to an almost agonizing pitch as the hours wore on, and the stranger still lingered in my husband's room. I would have tried to listen to the conversation of the two men had I conceived it to be of the slightest use, but there was no conveniently placed connecting door between the two rooms through which scraps of conversation, if not carried on in a low key, might have been heard, and the constantly frequented corridor was not an ideal resort for an eavesdropper. So I was obliged to bide my time ere I could make any sign of my presence to Sergius. At last the low, unintelligible murmur of voices ceased, and there were indications that a move was being made in the next room. At last, I thought, my weary probation is nearly over, Sergius will soon be alone, and I can then slip a note under his door that will warn him of my presence, but picture my disappointment when the two men passed my room door together. Sergius was going out again with the stranger, and I might not have another chance of seeing him again tonight. For a moment I hesitated as to what course to follow, then I resolved to keep my husband in sight, and to ascertain, if possible, wither he was going. I was convinced that, be he never so cautious, he was in danger from all sides, and, though not probable, it was certainly possible that I might be of service to him. Sergius had told me that my presence near my husband would only be another source of worry and danger to him, but I could not bring myself to believe this, for I was resolved to be cautiousness itself. Indeed, I was so cautious that Sergius and his companion were almost out of sight when I emerged from the hotel portico, and I had to accelerate my speed considerably before I succeeded in bringing myself within measurable distance of them. Sergius were a grave wig and a flowing beard of the same venerable hue. This in itself would not have been disguised sufficient to blind anyone inclined to be suspicious of his identity, but that he never lost sight of the extreme perilousness of his position was born into my mind by his adoption of a somewhat feeble gait and carriage, more in unison with his assumption of the character of an old man than his own light, swinging walk would have been. The stranger seemed young, being of a lith, supple figure, and destitute of hair-suit adornment. He wore smoked glasses, and his face was disfigured by a singular contortion, which seemed to draw his features all to one side. Now and again, as they passed under a gas lamp, I was able to scrutinize them closely, and it did not take me long to decide their errand was a secret one, for they glanced back from time to time. As if apprehensive of being followed, and doubled up one street and down another, with such a reckless disregard of distance and probable fatigue that I was convinced they were trying to elude pursuit. By the time this sort of thing had gone on for over an hour, I began to feel desperately tired, and was seriously contemplating the necessity of returning to the hotel when I saw something that convinced me that Sergius needed someone to give him a friendly warning, and banished all sense of fatigue. The two men were being followed, a man stepped from a doorway after they had passed it, and, slouching into first one corner, then another, contrived to keep near them, although he did his best to avoid being seen in his turn. In an instant I thought of Count Karenov. Was it possible that he or his mere middens were already on the trail? That the fiends had almost got my husband in their power, and that his denunciation was already a thing accomplished? At thought of this awful possibility I turned sick with dread, but I no longer hesitated about revealing my own presence. At all hazards, Sergius must be warned. He must be made aware that an enemy dogged his footsteps, and he must be cautioned against betraying the secret resort of the society to those interested in, and intent upon, its destruction. With this object in view I sprang forward, and would soon have reached my husband's side, but for an occurrence which was as unexpected as it was horrifying to me. The man who was acting the spy upon Sergius and his companion had also come to some sudden resolution, for he also sprang forward, but was intercepted by two individuals who appeared to have come upon the spot by magic. I saw the glitter of gleaming steel, as a dagger flashed in the moonlight. I heard a stifled, gurgling cry, and before I could echo it, I felt myself gripped by the throat and rendered for the moment incapable of uttering a sound. It seemed to me that my last moment had come, my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. My breath seemed to be forsaking me.  Presently, the time may have been a few seconds. To me it seemed an age. The pressure was taken from my throat, and even as my senses were leaving me I felt a gag put in my mouth. Some heavy garment was thrown over me. I was lifted from the ground and was born away, possibly to endure a fate which I was no longer even capable of imagining. Chapter 12 of The Adventures of an Ugly Girl This is a labor box recording. All labor box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit laborbox.org The Adventures of an Ugly Girl by Elizabeth Burgoyne Corbett in mortal peril. When I once more became conscious of my surroundings, I was seated in a chair, in the center of a large, low-sealed apartment, of which the atmosphere was chill and dampened, the light feeble. I was supported on either side by a figureclad in a long gray cloak and wearing a gray hood and scarlet domino, as my scared senses re-asserted themselves more fully. I could see that the room was peopled by many other figures similarly attired and that my presence among them was the central subject of interest. Nay, there was one other object that must have been of even more horrible interest than I was.  It was outlined with horrible distinctness, and a shutter ran through me as I realized that this was the dead body of the man I had seen struck down while in the act of shadowing my husband for some purpose unknown to me, though I could not have imagined that purpose anything but inimical to his safety. And where was he? The beloved object for whose sake I had brave the dangers which now encompassed me. Hoping to recognize his figure among the many with which I was surrounded, but alas, the enshrouding cloaks and obscuring dominoes would not permit recognition. And my heart sank within me as I thought that even where he here he might find it impossible to be of service to me without endangering his own life. At the end of the chamber in which I now found myself was a slightly raised platform upon which were seated seven or eight of the cloaked figures, but I noticed that in their case the cloak was black and the domino yellow, and I conjectured rightly that they were the rulers of the assembly. I was feeling acute bodily suffering, yet that was for the time lost sight of in the horror of possible speedy annihilation. Have any of my readers ever been in a situation of mortal terror? If so, they will be able to realize the acuteness of perception with which I regarded everything around me and the miraculous swiftness with which the most irrelevant ideas chased each other through my brain. Even while trying to pierce the disguise of my possible judges, I found myself wondering how dear little Jerry was getting on and whether Belle's wedding would be postponed again or not. But after what seemed an interminable time, the silence was at last broken by a voice which ordered in deep, impressive tones, remove that covering. Instantly four figures approached the object lying in front of me, two from either side of the room, and each one silently lifted a corner of the cloth and doubled it back so as to expose the corpse of a man whose countenance wore such an expression of terror and agony as made me use desperate efforts to cover my face with my hands.  Such a command was not reassuring, and I relapsed into trembling passivity while black cloaks and gray cloaks proceeded to try the murdered man after he was dead. What is the name of that traitor? Was the question I heard from the lips of the man who seemed to be the president of the assembly, K. R. O. Gratowitski. What was his crime? He was a government spy, and his special mission? To dog the footsteps of Number Finis. Then he deserves his fate. Who was the Avenger? Number 16. Then his exemption from future death service has been earned. At these words the man who had replied to the above questions stepped forward, bowed to those who were seated on the platform, uttered a formula of which I did not catch the import, and then ranged himself upon the opposite side of the room to the one he had previously been standing at. Remove the body was the next command. In another moment the board upon which the dead man had been laid was recovered, and was lifted up by four figures who marched down the room with it, and disappeared through a low door, which was bolted after their exit, amid a dead silence on the part of those left behind. Now my turn is at hand. I thought, feeling sick with dread, and looking in vain for a friendly sparkle in the eyes of the silent figures around me. My premonition was correct. For the next words I heard referred to myself. Who is the prisoner? We do not know, was the reply. How came she here? She was spying upon one of our chosen. Did she betray antagonistic intentions? Yes, she sprang forward, as if to strike, simultaneously with the man who has already been removed. What weapons has she in her possession? None that we have seen. She has not yet been searched. Remove her, and search her. Up to this point I had remained silent, for my tongue refused to utter a sound, but the prospect of suffering the indignity of having my clothing removed for the purpose of examination made me utter a startled protest. There was, indeed, a tiny English revolver hidden in my dress for defensive purposes. But how was I to convince these stern marionettes that I would never have dreamed of hurting anyone, unless it was absolutely necessary, in order to save either my own life or my husbands? Indeed, I cried, forgetting that I was not speaking to a meeting of English people. I assure you that I am innocent of the remotest intention of injuring anyone belonging to you, and surely I have already suffered indignity enough. There was a slight movement of surprise, as if my nationality had been unsuspected, and then one of the black cloaked figures who had hitherto not spoken stepped forward and addressed the president in a low tone, receiving an affirmative reply to some suggestion which he offered. He proceeded to cross, question me in very good English. I am sure that I created an unfavorable impression where I was most anxious to be conciliatory, for after partially unfolding my story, I was seized with sudden alarm on behalf of Sergius, and forthwith became as reticent as I had a few moments before been valuable. For was it not possible that on due candor on my part might betray some secret hitherto carefully preserved by my husband? Suppose his marriage, while still a member of this dread society, was against the rules, and suppose I were betraying a secret that might prove fatal to him. If I spoke of his recent absence from the country for which he had sworn to give up his life, of all that concerned his connection with the people who now had me in their power he had told me nothing, and in all likelihood his reticence on this subject was entirely due to considerations of personal safety. Perhaps he was under oath to reveal nothing, how, then, was I to account not merely for my knowledge of the fact that he was a member of this society, but of the still more perilous secret of his motive for returning to Russia, or of my own object in following him, would not my admission that my presence in Moscow was the result of my private determination to frustrate an event which they regarded as necessary for the salvation of their country be sufficient to procure my own death warrant, as well as my husband's? Mine, because they must necessarily regard me as an enemy, is because he was, even if unwillingly, the cause of my knowledge of their deadly secret. Alas, where was he? Surely, if he were present, he would at once have tried to save me from the summery fate which hung over me, and yet, to do so might be to risk his own safety. Truly, vanity was never reproved more cruelly than mine was then, when the Princess Nina had told me that, so far from my presence near him being advantageous to Sergius, it might prove an additional source of peril. I did not believe her, since I meant to be too cautious to run into danger, and here I was, in dire extremity, and likely to involve my dear husband in my own ruin, all because I had had too much faith in the superiority of my own judgment. The position, too, was one that was very difficult to understand. How did I come to be clasped with the man who had already succumbed to the swift vengeance of this terrible society? The solution of this question was beyond my powers, but I was at least able to grasp one fact. Sergius must be the number, Venice, whom the stranger was said to have been shadowing, and his safety was of such importance to the society that protectors, two and three deep, followed in his wake. Some of these must have watched my pursuit of him, and must have imagined me to be his enemy. As this thought thrust itself forward, I began to feel less despairing, but could, still not quite determine whether his speedy arrival on the scene would be conducive to my salvation or to his undoing, and my brain became so bewildered that I hardly knew whether to pray for his prompt arrival or for his continued absence. There had been a break in the stern mode of conducting the inquiry. The door was silently opened by the janitor in response to a signal from without, and three persons entered, who evidently brought news of stirring import, though its nature was not permitted to reach my ears. There was a buzz of excited voices, and the prevailing feeling seemed to be one of consternation. Several people who had hitherto kept silent joined in the conversation, and some hurriedly left the apartment. Although I had made wonderful progress with the Russian language, it was still beyond my power to comprehend very rapidly spoken utterances, and even if the discussion had been carried on in a louder tone I might still have been able to grasp its full import, but I could at least tell that the news received was provocative of grief in the breasts of some of this mysterious assemblage of people, while others were stirred to menacing anger. How this anger might affect my own fate was impossible for me to tell, but at all events I had received a momentary respite, and the dread of instant death was removed from me, even my hands were now released, and had I been able to do so I might have stood up unhindered, but I was sick and giddy from the combined effects of the violence to which I had been subjected, and of the mental distress under which I was laboring, and could now do no more than gaze helplessly around me, and wonder why Sergius did not come to my rescue. Presently the excitement abated again, and the cloaked figures resumed their places. The three latest comers approaching close to where I was sitting. Now, Brother Finess, said the President, look closely at this woman, who was caught dogging your footsteps, in company with a man whom we know to have been a government spy, and tell us if you have seen her before. My heart leaped to my mouth at these words. This must be Sergius, although the ample folds of his cloak, and his hood and domino, had prevented me from recognizing him. Hastily stepping forward, he now obtained a full view of me for the first time. He did not recognize me for a moment, owing to my disfiguring wig. But when I looked appealingly at him, clasped my hands in an attitude of distress, and sobbed just the one word. Sergius, he started as if struck by lightning. The next instant he had pushed both my bonnet and my wig from my forehead, disclosing my own dark curls. And as at last I succumbed again to the faintness which had oppressed me for so long. I heard my husband's voice exclaim, my God, this is my wife. End of chapter 12. Chapter 13 of The Adventures of an Ugly Girl This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Adventures of an Ugly Girl by Elizabeth Burgoyne Corbett Paying the Penalty Look up, my darling, you are safe now. Were the next words of which my returning consciousness was cognizant, opening my eyes, I saw those of Sergius bent anxiously upon me, and thankfully realized that I was embraced by his strong arms and pillowed upon his warm breast. Surely it was as he said, I was no longer in danger, and might give all necessary explanations without the paralyzing presence of an assembly which put patriotism before every other duty to humanity. Thank God I have found you, I murmured, while the tears of relief flowed down my cheeks. Oh, Sergius, how could you leave me without one word of farewell? I was compelled in honor to come here without an instance delay, and it was hard enough to tear myself away on my wedding day without undergoing the agony of parting. Besides, I knew that you would refuse to let me come without you, and I dreaded to involve you in danger. Yet you did not dread danger for my husband, who was dearer to me than life. Indeed, I did. But I dreaded dishonor still more. And there was another danger of which you are doubtless still ignorant. Had I not answered in person the telegram which summoned me hither, sudden death at the hands of outraged patriotism would have overtaken me in England for our society, which may strike you as a small one, as its ramifications all over Europe, and it never spares those who break their oath of obedience. But you barely escaped from St. Petersburg without falling into the hands of enemies. And even the strictest society could hardly accuse you of leaving the country to evade your oath. By this time, all haziness had left my mind, and I felt altogether stronger. I raised myself into a sitting posture and prepared for my first attempt to wean my husband from his determination to do all which his associates wished him to do. I looked around me to see that we were quite alone in a small room, and that the door, which no doubt communicated with the larger apartment, was firmly closed. Then, with momentarily augmenting excitement, I began to tell Sergius all about my own journey hither. And do you know my principal object in following you? I continued, Nina told me that the special duty which demanded your presence here was the removal of the Tsar. For God's sake, don't lend yourself to so dreadful a deed. I could not bear to think of you as a murderer. Even as I made this appeal, I saw that it was utterly useless. Sergius had pushed his domino away from his face, and there was nothing to hinder me from noting that he had blanched considerably, and that his eyes gathered an expression of mingled anger and anxiety. Dora, he said firmly, you are treading on ground that is more dangerous than you dream of.  Had I deemed it advisable, I would gladly have brought you with me. As I did not think such a course wise, I overconfidently imagined that my friends would have used some measure of discreteness. I certainly did not give Nina the particulars of my mission to Moscow. And even if I had done so, I should never have dreamed that she would betray my confidence. Indeed, Sergius, I protested. Nina is the last woman in the world to betray her friends. And it was because she saw me tortured with all sorts of conflicting fears that she showed me the purely political nature of your sudden departure, which she no doubt knew without fresh information from you. And she certainly never dreamed that I would follow you, for I did not give her the slightest hint of my intention to do so. It was surely better for her to enlighten me than to leave me a prey to the misery of unexplained desertion. Perhaps you are right, Dora. All the same, your arrival here will certainly complicate matters for me. Still, I can understand your desire to learn as much as possible. And, why, I do believe you must have been suffering from jealousy. Tell me, is that so? Well, I knew that you had seen a woman at Hyde Park Corner whom you would have liked to avoid while with me. She knew you. I could tell. And she is so much handsomer than I am that you must own it was natural for me to imagine her power to be of a different nature to what it has proved. How do you know yet that she had anything to do with my sudden departure? I don't know. I can only conjecture.  Vera Vesovskoy is a member of our fraternity. So also is her husband. Both have sad reason to hate and oppressive government, for it is robbed them both of kindred and fortune. But Madam Vesovskoy, though I had won with us in our general plans, hates individual bloodshed. She was on a secret mission to London when she saw me. Before she left Moscow, she knew that the ballot had fallen upon me, with reversion to her husband in the event of my failure to appear on the scene in time. I shrank back when I saw her, for I regarded it as an evil omen to be confronted with my secret obligations on my wedding day. But she was determined not to lose sight of me, and tracked us home by means of a cab which she called to her assistance. Having found my address, her next proceeding was to have an official message conveyed to me, commanding my instant return to Russia, to fulfill the great plan for relieving the sufferings of our oppressed country. Death is the reward of disobedience to the mandates of the Executive Council, and my grief at leaving you at such a time showed me that I could not have done my duty to my country if I had witnessed your distress. Hark, there is the signal, our time is up, and we seem to have explained so little, and you still look so ill. Indeed, I am quite recovered now, and will give you no trouble. To be with you is all I want to make me happy, and well, it was even so. I felt that, by his side, I could bid defiance to the threatenings of fate. Sergius tightened his arms round me and kissed me with all a young husband's devotion. But his caresses were rather those of one who was bidding a painful farewell, than of one just reunited to the idol of his heart after a trying separation. You must trust me, darling. Whatever befalls he whispered, and could it be true, were those tears of grief which trickled down his cheeks. I stood up and suddenly returned alarm, but before I could question him at all, there was a much louder knock at the door than the first one had been, another second, and it was thrown open. Sergius hastily replaced his domino and, kissing me once more, said, I am ready. The next moment I was standing alone in the little room. Sergius had gone. The door was closed and bolted, and I was a prisoner once more. Still I did not, for some time, realize that my isolation and detention were to be of a prolonged nature, but when more than an hour passed away, and I had listened to the gradual dying out of all sounds in the outer room, I was seized by a species of panic. Was it possible that I had really brought danger upon the head of Sergius, and that he had already paid the penalty for my rashness? I had seen with what little compunction the presumed spy had been dispatched, and my despairing fancy-pitchered my dear one already well-tering in his blood, while I would perhaps be left to die in this cell of cold and starvation. There was a little light available for me, though not within my reach. It shone through an elevated grating which communicated with the larger apartment, and after a time this circumstance afforded me a little hope. I concluded that, though the meeting was probably over, the place could not be entirely deserted, otherwise the lights, feeble as they were, would most likely be extinguished. Then a new horror seized me, how many murders might have been committed on these premises, and how many corpses might have been buried within a few yards of me. I am not superstitious in the general acceptance of the term, but I always had a horror of the near presence of death, and even the most strong-minded among those who may become acquainted with my history will admit that my circumstances and surroundings were uncanny enough to raise the hair of a much less nervous individual than myself. My watch told me that I had been imbued in this underground room for two hours, and I was feeling faint and sick with hunger, for it was now verging on dawn, and I had had very little food all the previous day, being too much engrossed in watching for Sergius to attend properly to my own bodily needs. Sleep refused me its refreshing aid, though I would gladly have welcomed the temporary oblivion of my surroundings which it might have given me. After a time I fell into a species of semi-stuker, from which I was roused by the entrance of Sergius into my prison. I am not sure that coherency of thought was not banished from me even after my husband had pressed wine and food upon my acceptance. I know now that I mechanically availed myself of the refreshment brought to me, but I cannot recall what transpired for a while, until a flood of tears relieved my brain from the pressure which the strength of my emotions exercised upon it. Then I was able to comprehend all that Sergius had to tell me, and to realize how very nearly I had compassed his ruin. Though I did not know until afterward what a battle he had had with the sterner members of the society, whose motto was death to everything through which our plans may risk betrayal. Briefly, the position was this. Sergius had been strictly cross-examined concerning me, and had been able to convince his interrogators that I was really his wife. They were also satisfied as to my fidelity and attachment to him, but they declined to trust my discretion at a time when a word might betray their plans and ruin their hopes of revolutionizing the country. It was therefore decreed that I was to be kept a close prisoner until such time as Sergius should have fulfilled the obligations that the society demanded of him. In other words, I said with a shudder, I am never to recover my freedom until you have committed a hideous crime that would haunt us all our lives. I would rather die at once. My poor child, you speak out of the ignorance born of residence in a free and happy country, said Sergius sadly. Could you but faintly realize the horror and misery that oppressed the subjects of the Tsar? You would pray with us for the abolition of such a monstrous anomaly as a fabulously wealthy ruler at the head of a nation that is ground down to the lowest depths of poverty and degradation. While incredible sums are extracted for the support of a prodigal court, each year sees a huge holocaust of the victims of starvation and oppression, a ruler's revel in costly frivolities, while famine depopulates our country by tens of thousands. No other European state can show such a perfect system of barbaric misgovernment and corrupt officialism as Russia. If any of the Tsar's subjects show symptoms of originality or strivings after a better state of things, they are promptly consigned either to the state prison or to banishment, and all national reform has to be made the subject of secret ploddings by a handful of men and women into whom patriotism or special provocation have instilled a greater amount of bravery than is possessed by their downtrodden and broken-spirited compatriots. The scoundrels whom despotism has put in office abuse their privileges to a brutal extent that would be tolerated nowhere else in Europe and must come to an end even here someday. Our newspaper press is a dead letter, for it is also supervised and gagged that nothing even approaching a hint of discontent at the existing state of things is allowed to appear. A strict supervision is also exercised upon all our literature, and even that which is imported from other countries is examined so jealously that any article or paragraph withdrewed which can be construed into disapproval of Russian politics is promptly detected and blocked out. Police spies intrude in our innermost sanctums, and true domestic privacy is practically unknown among us, nor is this all. Physical oppression has been the heritage of us Russians for ages, and the slightest excuse is good enough to justify the confiscation of our property and the deprivation of our liberty. Liberty. Why even liberty of conscience is not allowed us, and we are asked to believe that God has gifted our cursed tyrants with the knowledge of the only true way in which to worship Him, whether it be Stunnist or Jew, it is all the same.   If you have wives and daughters, God might help them, but you can't, and the priest won't raise voice or finger to save them from the atrocities of the mob, which must be allowed to reward itself somehow for its readiness to support the Orthodox Church. But surely the government would not refuse to punish those guilty of such shameful deeds. My dear child, the government and the church will never fight each other, and the only reward which a complaint against the latter would bring forth would be the ruin of the man who ventured to make the complaint. But the Tsar, is he so powerful that a word from him would put an end to many of these evils? Surely if he knew the Tsar, he must know. He has been appealed to too often to be able to plead ignorance, but if he, who is nominally at the head of so huge a nation as ours, and who receives imperial emoluments for doing his duty to that nation, will not take the trouble to make himself acquainted with the needs of the subjects whom he is paid to govern and protect, then it is high time that he be made to give place to someone who will be honest enough to do the work for which he is paid. We want peace and prosperity at home, while our rulers neglect us in order to annex other provinces and enlarge an empire that is already too unwieldy. Yet if this emperor is removed by violence, he will be succeeded by his son, who will probably govern just as he is doing, so that his murder would only prove a fruitless crime. Not so. If his violent death does not frighten his successor into more humane methods of government, he will be removed in his turn, and so it will go on until the rights of an oppressed people win the recognition that is demanded. You feel horrified at the idea of one man being turned over to avenging justice. How can you put his life in the scale against the lives and souls of the thousands who are the daily victims of governmental oppression and official cruelty? Vox Populi, Vox Dei, is our watchword, and God and the people shall not always lift up their voices in vain. Oh, how noble my husband looked as he thus eloquently vindicated the right of the people to insist upon justice, and how strange it was that I, who had come to Russia fully resolved upon converting my husband to my own peaceable ways of thinking, should end by sharing his enthusiasm and by believing as he did. Yet so it was, in indefiance of possible subsequent conscience pricks, I began to look upon my husband's contemplated act as that of a brave, self-sacrificing hero, rather than as the assassination against which my soul had revolted. Since that eventful night a reaction has set in, and I often thank God that, after all, no bloodshed stains my husband's hands. You will feel your isolation very much. I am afraid, said Sergius, after we had, by tacit consent, taboo'd further conversation, anent this hour. If I can see you often, I will try to be as patient as possible, but I cannot help being anxious for your safety while you are away from me. My dear girl, you need not worry at all on my account. You have seen for yourself how carefully I am guarded. Yes, that is true, but I also know that your position must be a precarious one, or you would not be under the necessity of maintaining the disguise in which I saw you. You are, too, quite aware that you may be discovered and arrested at any moment. How do you come to that conclusion without much difficulty?  How thankful I shall be when we are safe in England again. So shall I, my darling. Meanwhile, we must make the best of the situation, which will perhaps not be quite so dreary for you as you imagine. You are to exchange this comfortless place for a room in another part of the building, where you will have every indulgence, but that of perfect freedom, until it is deemed safe to permit you to go abroad again. There is the signal. Your fresh quarters are ready. Come, Dora, but remember that you must not speak, by the way. A few seconds later the door opened, and Sergius led me past two figures holding lighted candles, and in the wake of another, who pushed aside a heavy curtain, beyond which was a narrow, tortuous staircase up which we climbed until my weary limbs found it almost impossible to go further. Fortunately, we had nearly reached the top, and Sergius half carried me into a room which was the picture of warmth and comfort. A bright fire burned in the stove, and its enlivening rays made me suddenly conscious of the fact that I was shivering with cold. I sank quite exhausted upon a comfortable lounge, and it was like a transition to paradise to find myself housed again in a haven of warmth and comfort, and the grateful odors of daintily prepared food assailing me. Yet I could neither eat nor drink of that which was set before me, and so fatigued was I by my experiences, that I yielded to the langer which overpowered me, and was just conscious of being kissed affectionately by my husband, and covered over with multitudinous raps when I sank into a sound and refreshing slumber from which I did not wake for several hours. End of Chapter 13 The Adventures of an Ugly Girl by Elizabeth Burgoyne Corbett Chapter 14 Long Live the People I was rested and refreshed by my long sleep and was glad to find that the events of the night had had no ill effect upon my health. The room in which I found myself opened into a smaller one, fitted up as a bedroom, and in this place, greatly to my astonishment, I saw all the luggage I had taken with me to the hotel, which, for many reasons, had better be nameless. How Sergius had managed things so cleverly I could not tell, but I was delighted to be able to remove my disfiguring disguise and make the most of my natural appearance. Now that I was no longer a solitary damsel whose movements might attract undesirable notice, I ceased to feel the need of appearing of such mature age, and I actually felt glad at the sight of my own homely presentment, after I had attired myself in a frock which I knew Sergius would like. While I was still busy touching up my toilet, an elderly woman, of serious but pleasing appearance, entered the room, and asked if I would take my breakfast, or rather, lunch. On first seeing me she looked rather surprised, as if she had still expected to be confronted by a becurled and bespectacled old lady. I was able to understand her and to reply to her, but was relieved to find that she relapsed into German. As I knew that language much better than Russian it was possible to get on very well with my visitor, who told me that her name was Marie Ivanovitch, that she was the nominal lessee of this house, and that she had seen me on the previous evening. Then there were women, as well as men in the assembly I exclaimed. Certainly, was the reply, we women are as much alive to the griefs of our country as the men are, and the sexes are nearly equally balanced in our society. Our usefulness is sometimes of a different nature to theirs, but upon the whole we have as much work to our hands as the men have. And your work just now is to prevent me from leaving this house? Even so, but I trust that you will not find your detention very irksome, since it is only the consequence of necessary precautions for the safety of your husband and others. And I cannot impress upon you sufficiently the danger of attempting to elude the vigilance of those whose judgment ordered your stay here. I am not likely to do anything that will run counter to the wishes of the society, provided Colt Volkovsky approves of them. What! Taking my name in vain! cried another voice at this juncture, and Sergius put in an appearance. I was just telling Madame Ivanovitch that I would obey any orders of this society that are endorsed by yourself, I explained, while I smiled a glad welcome upon the face I loved. And the particular commanding question, that I do not attempt to leave these quarters. I hope you will not. You are safer here than elsewhere, and this is the only place in which we could see much of each other. Say no more, my dearest, wild horses shall not drag me away without your approval. There! What do you say to that, Sister Ivanovitch? asked Sergius. You see, my wife has pledged her word to me to be obedient. In fact, you need be under no apprehension of indiscretion on her part. We both give you our word of honour. And yours is too well known to be doubted, Brother Volkovsky. Sergius, I said, as the worthy woman went to see after our lunch. I feel thoroughly ashamed of myself for causing you so much trouble and anxiety. I shall—not another word, my darling—it does me good to see you looking something like your own bright self again. I ought never to have left you behind, for I might have known that you would have preferred to share danger with me, rather than live a life of suspense and inactivity at home. My life promises to be inactive enough, even here now. But at least you know where I am and what I am doing, and that is something. To me it is everything.  Does the reader wonder at our ability to take things so quietly, even with an awful tragedy ever looming before us? I sometimes feel surprised there at myself, until I remember, that in spite of our experiences, we were both still gifted with the elastic spirits of youth, and that the mere joy of being reunited was enough to make us temporarily forgetful of painful subjects. Of course we had many confidences to exchange, and Sergius removed my mystification concerning several things. It seems that the man with whom I had seen him walking on the previous evening was Ivan Vosovsky, the husband of the handsome young woman I had seen at Hyde Park Corner, and the individual who would have had to officiate as my husband's substitute in the event of his failure to respond to the injunction to repair to Moscow at once. Ivan Vosovsky had even more reason to dread recognition by government spies than had Sergius, for it was in Moscow itself that he had been denounced, and, but for the injunction of the society, would heir now have sought safety in flight. His wife was already in England, having been deputed to carry out some plans for the fraternity, of which she also was a member. Ivan has wonderful powers of contortion which have saved him from discovery more than once, said Sergius, when speaking of his colleague. It would take his dearest friend all his time to recognize his naturally handsome face in the twisted and distorted visage which he presents to the public gaze. I have only heard of three people who could equal him in this direction. These were an English actor, a Japanese contortionist, and an English murderer. All three used their peculiar talent to good purpose and were able to mystify whom they liked. The murderer even went so far as to masquerade in your Scotland yard, although he knew that detectives were on the lookout for him. If Ivan's powers of contortion serve him as well as they served the English male factor, he will have cause to be thankful for them. I thought he looked very singular, I said, but I would never have dreamed that he could by any possibility be regarded as a handsome man. But tell me, where were you going when I saw you together? We were going to visit and take pecuniary help to the wife of a man who has fallen a victim to official ranker. He had the misfortune to have a pretty daughter who was beloved by a youth in every way worthy of her. Now, although both Olga and her father and mother favored this young suitor, he had several rivals for her hand. Olga is a very nice girl, but I fancy that the good pecuniary position of the family had something to do with the love of at least one of those who proposed for her hand. Be the says it may. On finding himself rejected he swore to be revenged both upon his rival and upon the girl who had had the temerity to award a man of his standing the insult of a refusal. His threats were heard with dread, for he was in a position of some importance in which he had facilities for dealing underhand blows at those who were unfortunate enough to offend him. A large proportion of the denunciations, which resulted in death, imprisonment, or banishment, are the outcome of personal malice, and when once a man or woman is in the position of an accused prisoner there is small hope of delivery, especially if there is property to confiscate. And did this bad man fulfill his threats? Indeed he did. You shall judge what difference this enmity made to Olga and her parents when I tell you that her father and brother have been sent to Siberia as political exiles. The mother and daughter are reduced to poverty and have found it impossible to support the younger children without help from friendly sympathizers who have to exercise the greatest precautions in visiting them, lest they too fall into the power of iniquitous officialism. And Olga's lover, what of him? Can he not help them in their emergency? Poor Paul, I fear there is little doubt that he languishes in that living grave, the fortress on the Neva. How horrible! It makes me shudder to think of it. Oh, Sergius, for heaven's sake, take care of yourself. What shall I do if evil befalls you, and how can you escape it in this dreadful country? I hardly dare hope that you will reach England alive, how thankful I would be if we could leave at once. My dear girl, there are many things worse than death. That, I must risk. But you could not retain your respect for a man whose oath has been broken, and whose word of honor is worthless. I will be as careful as is consistent with my duty. More I cannot promise, even to you. Was it true that I would rather welcome the death of my hero than that which he conceived to be dishonor? I think not. But I had not the temerity to argue the question with him, and, rather than distress him again, I tried to put the ghastly picture of his so called duty from my mind. Tell me, if you may, I said, what special information it was that produced such a sensation at the meeting last night? There is no reason why I should not tell you. Some members of our St. Petersburg branch have been denounced and tracked by informers in the pay of Count Karanev and his Miramidans. Six of them have been arrested, and it is not likely that they will ever recover their liberty again. One lady, who was arrested some weeks ago, and who was really innocent of conspiracy, has been so monstrously treated that she has died in prison. The circumstance of her death would be regarded as an opportune release from a life that could never again become tolerable to her, were not the predisposing detail so horribly. She was grossly insulted by the governor of the jail in which she was immured, but refused to forget that she was an honorable wife and mother. Nothing daunted by her indignant rebuff, the scoundrel again insulted her. This time the unhappy lady slapped her tormentor's face and aroused in him the demon of revenge. She was accused of attempting to take the governor's life and was ordered to be subjected to the frightful indignity of the knout. In spite of her alternate prayers for mercy and screams of resistance, she was dragged to the place of punishment, forcibly stripped, and mercilessly beaten. The physical pain was something terrible to endure, but one survives even worse things than that. It was the moral degradation that ate into her soul and induced her to end her unhappy life. How she obtained it, nobody knows, but it is certain that she had poisoned in her possession and that she used it to good purpose. How can such iniquities be permitted? You make even me feel a longing to take part in the downfall of a government that can sanction such atrocities, to think that a noble woman's end should be so sad. Her end? That has not come. She lives in our souls and cries aloud from the grave for vengeance. Her death has revived the ardour of both the enthusiasts and the lukewarm adherents of the cause of the people, and will do freedom more service than her life has done. We had much more conversation in the same strain, for I fully sympathized with my husband's accounts of the cruelties inflicted upon his compatriots. But all subjects come to an end to some time, and our talk varied itself by excursions to Greenby and to Courtney Grange, not to speak of all we hoped to do when we were once more at liberty to return to England and take possession of the handsome house intended for our reception. And I have already written to the Michaelos, said Sergius. Of course, neither their name nor ours appeared in the letter, but they will receive it indirectly and they will understand that we are together. This will allay their anxiety about you, and all the particulars of our adventures can be related when we see them. I wonder if such an event will really come to pass. To be sure it will. I can't have you always imagining the worst. You must look at the bright side of things. Do you know what I would do if I had the power? Something wonderful, no doubt. I would give you a drug, if such were obtainable, that would make you oblivious of everything but my presence and my wishes. Then I would take you far away from Russia, and would keep you there until there was no longer any danger of your being recalled. Ha! Dora, I am afraid I shall never make a patriot of you. But whatever can be the matter. Do you hear the commotion? Sergius, for heaven's sake, fly! Someone has betrayed you. Those are government men who are rushing upstairs. Oh, what shall we do? How can you escape? But my husband appeared much more astonished than frightened, and hardly seemed to notice what I was saying, for all his attention was apparently concentrated upon the hurrying footsteps without. In another moment our room door was flung open without ceremony, and half a dozen people entered, among them being Madame Ivanovitch. The country is saved, hurrah! Death to the tyrant. These and other exclamations became mixed in an inextricable jumble, so excited were all the speakers. Sergius saw that some great news had arrived, and became as excited as the rest. Silence, some of you, he cried, until I know what has happened. You, Vizofscoy, what is it? We have been anticipated. Vizar will never come to Moscow now. Our St. Petersburg contingent has achieved the great deed. The tyrant has been assassinated. Long live the people.