Part 2 (1/2)
”They have not seen us coming out of our emba.s.sy half a dozen times without knowing where to look for us. There will be a complaint made within two hours, and there will be trouble. The law protects them.
These fellows are authorized to strike anybody who speaks to the women they have in charge, or who even goes too near them. Be quick! We must get back to the quay before there is any alarm raised.”
Alexander knew that his brother Paul was no coward, and, being thoroughly convinced of the danger, he quickened his walk. In twenty minutes they reached Mesar Burnu, and in five minutes more they were within the gates of the emba.s.sy. The huge Cossack who stood by the entrance saluted them gravely, and Paul drew a long breath of relief as he entered the pretty pavilion in the garden in which he had his quarters. Alexander threw himself upon a low divan, and laughed with true Russian indifference. Paul pretended not to notice him, but silently took up the local French paper, which came every evening, and began to read.
”You are excellent company, upon my word!” exclaimed Alexander, irritated at his brother's coldness. Paul laid down the paper, and stared at him with his hard blue eyes.
”Alexander, you are a fool,” he said coolly.
”Look here,” said the other, suddenly losing his temper, and rising to his feet, ”I will not submit to this sort of language.”
”Then do not expose yourself to it. Are you aware that you do me very serious injury by your escapades?”
”Escapades indeed!” cried Alexander indignantly. ”As if there were any harm in telling a woman she is pretty!”
”You will probably have occasion to hear what the chief thinks of it before long,” retorted his brother. ”There will be a complaint. It will get to the palace, and the result will be that I shall be sent to another post, with a black mark in the service. Do you call that a joke?
It is very well for you, a rich officer in the guards, taking a turn in the East by way of recreation. You will go back to Petersburg and tell the story and enjoy the laugh. I may be sent to China or j.a.pan for three or four years, in consequence.”
”Bah!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the soldier, sitting down on the divan. ”I do not believe it. You are an old woman. You are always afraid of injuring your career.”
”If it is to be injured at all, I prefer that it should be by my own fault.”
”What do you want me to do?” asked Alexander, rising once more. ”I think I will go back to the Valley of Roses, and see if I cannot find her again.” Suiting the action to the word, he moved towards the door. All the willfulness of the angry Slav shone in his dark eyes, and he was really capable of fulfilling his threat.
”If you try it,” said Paul, touching an electric bell behind his chair, ”I will have you arrested. We are in Russia inside these gates, and there are a couple of Cossacks outside. I am quite willing to a.s.sume the responsibility.”
Paul was certainly justified in taking active measures to coerce his headstrong brother. The spoilt child of a brilliant society was not accustomed to being thwarted in his caprices, and beneath his delicate pale skin the angry blood boiled up to his face. He strode towards his brother as though he would have struck him, but something in Paul's eyes checked the intention. He held his heavy silver cigarette case in his hand; turning on his heel with an oath, he dashed it angrily across the room. It struck a small mirror that stood upon a table in the corner, and broke it into s.h.i.+vers with a loud crash. At that moment the door opened, and Paul's servant appeared in answer to the bell.
”A gla.s.s of water,” said Paul calmly. The man glanced at Alexander's angry face and at the broken looking-gla.s.s, and then retired.
”What do you mean by calling in your accursed servants when I am angry?” cried the soldier. ”You shall pay for this, Paul,--you shall pay for it!” His soft voice rose to loud and harsh tones, as he impatiently paced the room. ”You shall pay for it!” he almost yelled, and then stood still, suddenly, while Paul rose from his chair. The door was opened again, but instead of the servant with the gla.s.s of water a tall and military figure stood in the entrance. It was the amba.s.sador himself. He looked sternly from one brother to the other.
”Gentlemen,” he said, ”what is this quarrel? Lieutenant Patoff, I must beg you to remember that you are my guest as well as your brother's, and that the windows are open. Even the soldiers at the gates can hear your cries. Be good enough either to cease quarreling, or to retire to some place where you cannot be heard.”
Without waiting for an answer, the old diplomat faced about and walked away.
”That is the beginning,” said Paul, in a low voice. ”You see what you are doing? You are ruining me,--and for what? Not even because you have a caprice for a woman, but merely because I have warned you not to make trouble.”
Paul crossed the room and picked up the fallen cigarette case. Then he handed it to his brother, with a conciliatory look.
”There,--smoke a cigarette and be quiet, like a good fellow,” he said.
The servant entered with the gla.s.s of water, and put it down upon the table. Glancing at the fragments of the mirror upon the floor, he looked inquiringly at his master. Paul made a gesture signifying that he might leave the room. The presence of the servant did not tend to pacify Alexander, whose face was still flushed with anger, as he roughly took the silver case and turned away with a furious glance. The servant had noticed, in the course of three weeks, that the brothers were not congenial to each other, but this was the first time he had witnessed a violent quarrel between them. When he was gone Alexander turned again and confronted Paul.
”You are insufferable,” he said, in low tones.
”It is easy for you to escape my company,” returned the other. ”The Varna boat leaves here to-morrow afternoon at three.”
”Set your mind at rest,” said Alexander, regaining some control of his temper at the prospect of immediate departure. ”I will leave to-morrow.”
He went towards the door.
”Dinner is at seven,” said Paul quietly. But his brother left the room without noticing the remark, and, retiring to his room, he revenged himself by writing a long letter to his mother, in which he explained at length the violence and, as he described it, the ”impossibility” of his brother's character. He had all the pettiness of a bad child; he knew that he was his mother's favorite, and he naturally went to her for sympathy when he was angry with his brother, as he had done from his infancy. Having so far vented his wrath, he closed his letter without re-reading it, and delivered it to be posted before the clock struck seven.