The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 178: what you’re looking at

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

174 The events of the previous day had shaken him very severely; and I re- membered his illness. “TIT am an old man, monsieur, and not well. My heart is treacherous,” he said as he sank into a chair. It was not exactly a happy phrase, and I caught Helga’s fleeting glance of surprise. “A treacherous heart is an ugly lie companion,” I answered gravely. “ May { suggest a glass of cognac? You have been over-taxing your strength, prince,” I remarked as I handed it to him. It seemed to give him some energy, and as he put down the glass he said in a less weary tone: “You are packing?” | “ There is a lot to do, of course. You have brought the papers and so on for our journey?” “No.” The monosyllable was more like his old sharp, abrupt manner. “No? Oh well, we can wait a day longer if you prefer it,” I answered, with a sort of indulgent indifference. “When one is ill, of course, the prepa- ration of such things is troublesome. When may we expect them? ” “T have had news that alters the matter.” “Indeed. Not bad news for us, I trust?” This with quick anxiety. “JT have heard that Prince Lavalski is dead, monsieur.” “Dead!” cried Helga, and turned away as if in sudden grief. “When did he die?” I asked. “JT do not know.” It was a very lame story, and I think he felt it, although he did his best to make it impressive. “It has greatly disturbed me. I ought to have been informed of the thing at the time, but it has been left to reach me after long delay through official reports.” “Tt is verv serious.” After this from me we were all silent for a time, and Helga went through to the adjoining room. “Tt is tragic that you did not know this yesterday, prince,” I added at length. “To have roused my wife’s hope only to kill it to-day is to inflict a very cruel blow.” THE ARGOSY. “What will you do now, monsieur ? ” ‘““T find it impossible to answer off- hand. Of course this proposed journey will now be useless.” “ Quite,” he declared bluntly. “ That is why I brought nothing with me.” I threw up my hands as if the situa- tion baffled me. “Poor Helga!” I sighed. “Will you go to your own country, monsieur? ” he asked. “If I can induce my wife to go, yes. But ” I paused. “You will do most wisely to go.” “No doubt. But ” and I pulled up again as if in the most desperate perplexity. “You have paused twice on that word, monsicur,” he exclaimed irri- tably. “You see this news puts us back to where we were before, and my wife is still resolved to clear her father’s memory. And so am I.” “You will do most wisely if you go, I repeat.” “YT do not think she will go until that is done. I should not, and I should not counsel her to do so, either.” “Tam not accustomed to speak with- out full meaning, monsieur, and again I advise you to leave Russia.” ‘““ And if we do not take the advice? ” His answer was a gesture from which I might deduce what I pleased. It was all very subtly and cleverly acted; as cleverly as if the situation had arisen quite unexpectedly. He had so maneuvered that the papers were, as he believed, now within his reach. He felt that he could compel us to give them up or have them taken from us, and then deal with us as he pleased. Wie was probably calculating that I must be discussing the new, situation, embarrassed by a knowledge of this power of his, and I therefore began to manifest some slight uneasiness. “T wish to be vour friend,” he said at length. “Tam sure of that. You have given me a striking proofi—I mean in my marriage. We were scarcely friendly before that,’ I added, with a forced and somewhat nervous laugh. “ But I afeel rather embarrassed.” = -——— i ie MICLIO© <S GOL