The Argosy — page 274: what you’re looking at

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

The Missing Rubies. 257 ‘We share the same room, Wouriski and J. There is nothing left to us but our friendship, and the ties that bind us to the past. This has been a bright day ; it made us think of days in Poland, long ago, when it was summer, and the blood of youth coursed freely through our veins. We had been working hard for hours—toiling for our daily bread, as exiles have to toil—the evening came, and we said: ‘ Let us walk near the house where Casimir lives, and give him our blessing ; the blessing of those whom he has succoured in their time of need.’” | His tone had become gentle and low; there was a softer light in his eyes. Vordenberg passed his hand across his face. This grati- tude—this gentleness in one so wild—touched him more than words could express. “There was a carriage standing before the house. The door opened, and a woman came forth. At the sight of her, I thought that Wouriski had become mad. He seized my arm, and hissed her name into my ear; and we looked at her—looked at her, as if our eyes could never have enough of her face. She was beautiful, with a girlish, innocent beauty, so that no one could guess that she was more than thirty years old. Her hair, no loager dark brown, was cropped close to her head, and shone like red gold. A soft white shawl was wrapped round her shoulders, but not so closely that we could not catch the shine of the gems on her neck and arms. Ah, Casimir, it was a sight that we could hardly see and live!” Slowly, while Stavieski was speaking, there had dawned on Vor- denberg’s mind a vague remembrance of the woman he described. He saw a vision of a peach-like face, round and soft as.a child’s—of glorious dark eyes—of short-cut auburn hair. He had never thought of asking anyone to tell him this woman’s name. His heart was so full of Beatrice, and his love for her was so mysteriously blended with the love of his lost Sofie, that he had no thoughts to spare for others. Never before had he felt so much inclined to make allowances for this excitable Michael, who had so often bored him with his wild suspicions and impossible schemes of victory and vengeance. And yet, how necessary it was to soothe the poor Pole, smarting under an internal sense of wrongs that could never be set right on earth! Vordenberg, too, rose in his turn, and put his arm round Michael’s shoulders, as he had often done when they were boys together. ‘¢ Michael, my dear old friend,” he said kindly, ‘‘do not think that I cannot realise what it cost you to see her face! I am a dreamer, and I take little heed of those who are under this roof— save one. Women go and come, like shadows to me. But, my brother, you must avoid this woman ; you must not come again while she is here.” Stavieski uttered a low cry of pain. “You cannot mean this, Casimir,” he said piteously. ‘She has robbed me of Paul, already—must she take you from me also? Cconmicloooks Aan