Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (30 page)

 
          
“You
have won him and you deserve him; for you are nobler than I. Forgive me,
Philip; and when you are happiest, remember that, though sorely tempted, I resisted,
hoping to grow worthier to become your friend.”

 
          
Even
while she spoke he had caught the meaning of the paper, and Ariel guessed it
from his face before she, too, read the words that set her free. But her tears
of joy changed to tears of grief when Helen gently broke to her the sad fact of
her father’s death, trying to comfort her so tenderly that, by the blessed
magic of sympathy, all bitterness was banished from her own sore heart. As they
turned to leave that fateful cliff, Stern confronted them with an aspect that
daunted even Southesk’s courage. Calm with the desperate calmness of one who
had staked his last throw and lost it, he eyed them steadily a moment; then
with a gesture too sudden to be restrained, he snatched Ariel to him — kissed
her passionately, put her from him, and springing to the edge of the cliff,
turned on Southesk, saying in an accent of the intensest scorn, as he pointed
downward to the whirlpool below —

 
          
“Coward!
you
dared not end your
life when all seemed lost, but waited for a woman to save you. I will show you
how a brave man dies.” And as the last words left his lips he was gone.

 
          
Years
have passed since then; Ariel has long been a happy wife; Philip’s name has
become a household word on many lips, and Helen’s life has grown serenely
cheerful, though still solitary. But so the legend runs: Stern yet haunts the
island; for the light-house keepers tell of a wild and woeful phantom that
wanders day and night among the cliffs and caverns by the sea. Sometimes they
see it, in the strong glare of the lantern, leaning on the balcony, and looking
out into the night, as if it watched and waited to see some ship come sailing
by. Often those who visit the Kelpies Cauldron are startled by glimpses of a
dark, desperate face that seems to rise and mock them with weird scorn. But
oftenest a shadowy shape is seen to flit into the chasm, wearing a look of
human love and longing, as it vanishes in the soft gloom of Ariel’s nest.

 
         
Dear
mademoiselle, I assure you it is an arrangement both profitable and agreeable
to one, who, like you, desires change of occupation and scene, as well as
support. Madame la Princesse is most affable, generous, and to those who please
her, quite child-like in her affection.”

           
“But,
madame,
am I fit for the place? Does it not need accomplishments and graces which I do
not possess? There is a wide difference between being a teacher in a
Pensionnat
pour Demoiselles
like this and the companion of a princess.”

 
          
“Ah,
hah, my dear, it is nothing. Let not the
fear of rank disturb
you; these Russians are but savages, and all their money, splendor, and the
polish
Paris
gives them, do not suffice to change the
barbarians. You are the superior in breeding as in intelligence, as you will
soon discover; and for accomplishments, yours will bear the test anywhere. I
grant you Russians have much talent for them, and acquire with marvelous ease,
but taste they have not, nor the skill to use these weapons as we use them.”

 
          
“The
princess is an invalid, you say?”

 
          
“Yes;
but she suffers little, is delicate and needs care, amusement, yet not
excitement. You are to chat with her, to read, sing,
strive
to fill the place of confidante. She sees little society, and her wing of the
hotel is quite removed from that of the prince, who is one of the lions just
now.”

 
          
“Is
it of him they tell the strange tales of his princely generosity, his fearful
temper, childish caprices, and splendid establishment?”

 
          
“In
truth, yes;
Paris
is wild for him, as for some magnificent
savage beast. Madame la Comtesse Millefleur declared that she never knew
whether he would fall at her feet, or annihilate her, so impetuous were his.
moods
. At one moment showing all the complaisance and
elegance of a born Parisian, the next terrifying the beholders by some outburst
of savage wrath, some betrayal of the Tartar blood that is in him. Ah!
it
is incredible how such things amaze one.”

 
          
“Has
the princess the same traits? If so, I fancy the situation of companion is not
easy to fill.”

 
          
“No,
no, she is not of the same blood. She is a half-sister; her mother was a
Frenchwoman; she was educated in
France
, and lived here till her marriage with
Prince Tcherinski. She detests
St. Petersburg
, adores
Paris
, and hopes to keep her brother here till
the spring, for the fearful climate of the north is death to her delicate
lungs. She is a gay, simple, confiding person; a child still in many things,
and since her widowhood entirely under the control of this brother, who loves
her tenderly, yet is a tyrant to her as to all who approach him.”

 
          
I
smiled as my loquacious friend gave me these hints of my future master and
mistress, but in spite of all drawbacks, I liked the prospect, and what would
have deterred another, attracted me. I was alone in the world, fond of
experiences and adventures, selfreliant and self-possessed; eager for change,
and anxious to rub off the rust of five years’ servitude in Madame Bayard’s
Pensionnat. Phis new occupation pleased me, and but for a slight fear of
proving unequal to it, I should have at once accepted madame’s proposition. She
knew everyone, and through some friend had heard of the princess’s wish to find
an English lady as companion and teacher, for a whim had seized her to learn
English. Madame knew

 
          
I
intended to leave her, my health and spirits being worn by long and arduous
duties, and she kindly interested herself to secure the place for me.

 
          
“Go
then, dear mademoiselle, make a charming toilet and present yourself to the
princess without delay, or you lose your opportunity. I have smoothed the way
for you; your own address will do the rest, and in one sense, your fortune is
made, if all goes well.”

 
          
I
obeyed madame, and when I w as ready, took a critical survey of myself, trying
to judge of the effect upon others. The long mirror showed me a slender,
well-molded figure, and a pale face — not beautiful, but expressive, for the
sharply cut, somewhat haughty features betrayed good blood, spirit and
strength. Gray eyes, large and lustrous, under straight, dark brows; a firm
mouth and chin, proud nose, wide brow, with waves of chestnut hair parted
plainlv back into heavv coils behind. Five vears in
Paris
had taught me the art of dress, and a good
salarv permitted me to indulge my taste. Although simply made, I flattered
mvself that my promenade costume of silk and sable w as
en regie
, as
well as becoming, and with a smile at myself in the mirror I went mv w ay,
wondering if this new plan was to prove the welcome change so long desired.

 
          
As
the carriage drove into the court-yard of the princes hotel in the Champs Ely
sees, and a gorgeous
laquais
carried up my card, my heart beat a little
faster than usual, and when I followed the servant in, I felt as if my old life
ended suddenly, and one of strange interest had already begun.

 
          
The
princess was not ready to receive me yet, and I was shown into a splendid
salon
to wait. Mv entrance was noiseless, and as I took a seat, my eves fell on the
half-drawn curtains w hich divided the room from another. Two persons were
visible, but as neither saw me in the soft gloom of the apartment, I had an
opportunity to look as long and curiously as I pleased. The w
hole
scene w as as unlike those usually found in a Parisian
salon
as can well be imagined.

 
          
Though
three o’clock in the afternoon, it was evidently earh morning with the
gentleman stretched on the ottoman, reading a novel and smoking a Turkish
chibouk — for his costume was that of a Russian seigneur in
deshabille.
A long Caucasian caftan of the finest white sheepskin, a pair of loose black
velvet trowsers, bound round the waist by a rich shawl, and Kasan boots of
crimson leather, ornamented with golden embroidery on the instep, covered a
pair of feet which seemed disproportionately small compared to the unusually
tall, athletic figure of the man; so also did the head with a red silk
handkerchief bound over the thick black hair. The costume suited the face;
swarthy, black-eved, scarlet-lipped, heavy- browed and beardless, except a
thick mustache; serfs wear beards, but Russian nobles never. A strange face,
for even in repose the indescribable difference of race was visible; the
contour of the head, molding of the features, hue of hair and skin, even the
attitude, all betrayed a trace of the savage strength and spirit of one in
whose veins flowed the blood of men reared in tents, and born to lead wild
lives in a wild land.

 
          
This
unexpected glance behind the scenes interested me much, and I took note of
everything within my ken. The book which the slender brown hand held was
evidentlv a French novel, but when a lap-dog disturbed the reader, it was
ordered off in Russian with a sonorous oath, I suspect, and an impatient
gesture. On a gueri- don, or side-table, stood a velvet
porte-cigare
, a
box of sweetmeats, a bottle of
Bordeaux
, and a tall glass of cold tea, with a slice
of lemon floating in it. A musical instrument, something like a mandolin, lay
near the ottoman, a piano stood open, with a sword and helmet on it, and
sitting in a corner, noiselesslv making cigarettes, was a half-grown boy, a
serf I fancied, from his dress and the silent, slavish way in which he watched
his master.

 
          
The
princess kept me waiting long, but I was not impatient, and when I was summoned
at last I could not resist a backward glance at the brilliant figure I left
behind me. The servant’s voice had roused him, and, rising to his elbow, he
leaned forward to look, with an expression of mingled curiosity and displeasure
in the largest, blackest eyes I ever met.

 
          
I
found the princess, a pale, pretty little woman of not more than twenty, buried
in costlv furs, though the temperature of her boudoir seemed tropical to me.
Most gracious was my reception, and at once all fear vanished, for she was as
simple and wanting in dignity as any of my young pupils.

 
          
“Ah,
Mademoiselle Varna, you come in good time to spare me from the necessity of
accepting a lady whom I like not. She is excellent, but too grave; while you
reassure me at once by that smile. Sit near me, and let us arrange the affair
before my brother comes. You incline to give me your society, I infer from the
good Bayard?” “If Madame la Frincesse accepts my services on trial for a time,
I much desire to make the attempt, as my former duties have become irksome, and
I have a great curiosity to see
St. Petersburg
.”

 
          
“Mon Dieu!
I trust it will be long before we return
to that detestable climate.
Chere
mademoiselle, I entreat you to say
nothing of this desire to my brother. He is mad to go back to his wolves, his
ice and his barbarous delights; but I cling to
Paris
, for it is my life. In the spring it is
inevitable, and I submit — but not now. If you come to me, I conjure you to aid
me in delaying the return, and shall be forever grateful if you help to secure
this reprieve for me.” So earnest and beseeching were her looks, her words, and
so entirely did she seem to throw herself upon my sympathy and good-will, that
I could not but be touched and won, in spite of my surprise. I assured her that
I would do my best, but could not flatter myself that any advice of mine would
influence the prince.

 
          
“You
do not know him; but from what Bayard tells me of your skill in controlling
wayward wills and hot tempers, I feel sure that you can influence Alexis. In
confidence, I tell you what you will soon learn, if vou remain: that though the
best and tenderest of brothers, the prince is hard to manage, and one must
tread cautiously in approaching him. His will is iron; and a decree once
uttered is as irrevocable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. He has always
claimed entire liberty for himself, entire obedience from every one about him;
and my father’s early death leaving him the head of our house, confirmed these
tyrannical tendencies. Io keep him in
Paris
is mv earnest desire, and in order to do so
I must seem indifferent, yet
make
his life so
attractive that he will not command our departure.”

 
          
“One
would fancy life could not but be attractive to the prince in the gayest city
of the world,” I said, as the princess paused for breath.

 
          
“He
cares little for the polished pleasures which delight a Parisian, and insists
on bringing many of his favorite amusements with him. His caprices amuse the
world, and are admired, but they annoy me much. At home he wears his Russian
costume, orders the horrible dishes he loves, and makes the apartments
unendurable with his samovar, chibouk and barbarous ornaments. Abroad he drives
his droschky with the Ischvostchik in full
St. Petersburg
livery, and wears his uniform on all
occasions. I say nothing, but I suffer.”

 
          
It
required a strong effort to repress a smile at the princess’s pathetic
lamentations and the martyr-like airs she assumed. She was infinitely amusing
with her languid or vivacious words and attitudes; her girlish frankness and
her feeble health interested me, and I resolved to stay even before she asked
my decision.

 
          
I
sat with her an hour, chatting of many things, and feeling more and more at
ease as I read the shallow but amiable nature before me. All arrangements were
made, and I was about taking my leave when the prince entered unannounced, and
so quickly that 1 had not time to make my escape.

 
          
He
had made his toilet since I saw him last, and I found it difficult to recognize
the picturesque figure on the ottoman in the person who entered wearing the
ordinary costume of a well-dressed gentleman. Even the face seemed changed, for
a cold, haughty expression replaced the thoughtful look it had worn in repose.
A smile softened it as he greeted his sister, but it vanished as he turned to
me, with a slight inclination, when she whispered my name and errand, and while
she explained he stood regarding me with a look that angered me. Not that it
was insolent, but supremely masterful, as if those proud eyes were accustomed
to command whomever they looked upon. It annoyed me, and I betrayed my
annoyance by a rebellious glance, which made him lift his brows in surprise as
a half smile passed over his lips. When his sister paused, he said, in the
purest French, and with a slightly imperious accent: