The Argosy — page 112: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

304 THE ARGOSY. point, while any offensive tactics were out of the question. I wounded him three times, once so close to the heart that Olga cried out, and at length recall- ing the knack with which I had disarmed him in our former encounter, I used it now ; and after a few more cunning and swift passes I whipped his sword from his grasp and sent it whirling to the other end of the place. My eye flashed as I drew back my arm for the death thrust. ‘Ah, don’t, Alexis,’’ cried Olga, in a sort of whisper of horror. ‘‘ Don’t kill him.”’ It stopped me instantly, and my arm fell. ‘“ As you will,’’ I answered readily; ‘‘but he doesn’t deserve it. You owe your life to the woman you’ve tried to wrong, not to me,’’ I said to him shortly. ‘‘Stand out of the way and let us pass.”’ He moved aside doggedly, eying us with surly, sullen hate, as Olga, trembling violently now that the excitement was over, went on first and I followed her through the stairway and down and out of the house. When we reached the courtyard the postchaise which I had ordered .to follow us from the inn had arrived, and Olga and I entered it at once. ‘Thank God, we’re out of the house,’’ was niy companion’s fervent ex- clamation, as the carriage turned into the road and we left the gloomy place behind us. ’ Would to God we were out of Russia,’’ said I, speaking from my heart. ‘Then ’? I paused and looked into her face. ‘“All may yet come right,’’ answered Olga, meeting my eyes and putting her hand in mine. My clasp closed on it and we sat thus for some moments, just hand in hand, each silently happy in the knowledge of the other’s love. Then I bent toward her and gradually drew her to me, my eyes all the time lighted with the light from hers. ‘‘ Is it love, Olga, lovers’ love ?’’ I asked in a passionate whisper. For answer she smiled and whispered back : : ‘It always has been, Alexis;’’ and she met my betrothal kisses with warmth equal to mine. And after that we did not care to say a word, but leaned back in the carriage as it flew through the country in the gathering gloom of the evening, bumping, jolting, rolling, and creaking. What cared we for that? Olga was fast in my arms, her head on my breast and her face close to mine, so close that we were tempted ever and again to let the story of our love tell itself over and over in our kisses ; and neither Olga nor I had a thought of resisting the temptation. This would have gone on for hours, so far as I was concerned ; I was in a veritable palace of delight with freshly avowed love as my one thought. But Olga roused herself suddenly with a little start and a little cry. ‘Oh, Alexis, what have you made me do? Your wound.’’ I had forgotten all about it, but now when she mentioned it my left arm felt a little stiff. ‘“I am ashamed of myself,’’ she cried. ‘‘ What a love must mine be, that I want to dream of it with selfish pleasure when you are wounded. You make me drink oblivion with your kisses.’’ ‘‘ Love is a-fine narcotic,’’ replied I, laughing. ‘‘I felt no wound while comicbooks (E(o)