The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 179: what you’re looking at

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

WHEN I WAS CZAR. * It is a wife’s duty to obey her hus- band.” “Naturally; but this marriage of ours was for a special purpose, you see; and we were agreed upon it.” “Tf you care for your wife’s safety, to say nothing of your own, you will take my advice, monsieur, and leave the country with her.” “Tt is all so unexpected.” I spoke in the manner of one taken unawares. “ I will take a day to consider what to do.” “No, you must decide now,” he re- plied firmly; thinking no doubt, as I intended he should, that I wished to use the interval to get rid of the papers. “In a matter of such importance one must have time,” I protested, with a spice of indignation. “It is only rea- sonable.” I was growing manifestly more and more uneasy, and he perceived it. “It means so much.” “It means—everything to you both so far as your future is concerned.” “T must have time,” I repeated, and began to pace the room. “IT can grant none.” “But it does not rest with you either to grant or refuse il,” I retort- ed, as if now attempting to put a bolder face on things. “As to that we shall see.” He was very confident; his voice and manner showed that, and I am sure that he enjoyed my embarrassment. His sharp eyes followed me as I strode up and down the room. “Come back this evening and you shall have our decision.” “T must know at once.” “It is unreasonable, unjust, impos- sible,” I cried with growing «nger. “I will not stand your dictation in such a matter. I can’t decide now and I won't.” “TI shall not leave the room without your decision.” “Then I will;” and I walked to the door. “You cannot leave, monsieur.” I turned on him in time to catch a look of extreme exultation in his eyes. He guessed I had the papers on me and wished to get away with them. I promptly rubbed it in by saying very angrily: 175 “You shall not insult me, monsieur. If you wish to make my wife a prisoner, you can do so; she will remain; but you have no right to detain me. It is mon- strous.” “You cannot leave the room, M. Denver. My men are outside.” I was now in great fear; the start I gave showed him this. | —“° Do you dare to make me, an Ameri- can citizen, a prisoner in my own rooms? You shall answer for this, monsieur ;” I exclaimed with great heat and flung the door open. He had spoken truly. A half dozen men were stationed outside. I shut the door again angrily. “I shall appeal to my ambassador.” “Have you not carried this far enough?” he asked menacingly. I had come to the same conclusion— although our reasons differed, no doubt. “You have no alternative now but to accept my conditions,” he added. I affected to think, and then called Helga. “ Helga, Prince Kalkov orders us to leave Russia, and because I will not con- sent immediately and will not advise you to take no further steps to clear your father’s memory, he threatens to have us arrested.” “Tt is lke his highness,” contemptuously. “ What answer shall we give him?” “Let him do as he will.” “*M. Denver has not quite explained my position. It is that you are free to leave Russia and go to the United States if you hand to me the papers of which you obtained possession.” “IT do not make conditions with you, Prince Kalkov,” answered Helga with splendid scorn. “You are right, madame. It is I who make them, you who obey them,” he cried, rising, his voice trembling with anger under the lash of her words and look. “I will have no more of this. My patience is exhausted. Will you give them up, monsieur, and go?” He was not pretty in his anger, but I ventured on one more little tonic for it. I burst into a laugh. “Oh, the papers you want? Why didn’t you say so? I haven’ t them. So I can’t give them to you.” she said EO DOO YN Ss) (COL