Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (33 page)

 
          
“Did
he wear spurs?” I said, half audibly, as I leaned back to survey my work
complacently.

 
          
“Decidedly
yes, mademoiselle,” replied a voice, and there stood the prince with a wicked
smile on his lips.

 
          
I
seldom lose mv self-possession, and alter an involuntary start, was quite
myself, though mueh annoyed at being discovered. Instead of hiding the picture
or sitting dumb with embarrassment, I held it up, saying tranquilly:

 
          
“Is
it not creditable to so bad an artist? I was in doubt about the spurs, but now
I can soon finish.”

 
          
“The
horses are wonderful, and the furs perfect. Ivan is too handsome, and this
countenance may be said to lack expression.”

 
          
He
pointed to the blank spot where his own face should have been, and eyed me with
most exasperating intelligence. But I concealed my chagrin under an innocent
air, and answered simply:

 
          
“Yes;
I wait to find a portrait of the czar before I finish this addition to my
little gallery of kings and queens.”

 
          
“The
czar!” ejaculated the prince, with such an astonished expression that I could
not restrain a smile, as I touched up the handsome Ivan’s beard.

 
          
“I
have an admiration for the droschky, and that it may be quite complete, I
boldly add the czar. It always pleased me to read how freely and fearlessly he
rides among his people, unattended, in the gray cloak and helmet.”

 
          
The
prince gave me an odd look, crossed the room, and returning, laid before me an
enameled casket, on the lid of which was a portrait of a stout, light-haired, somewhat
ordinary, elderly gentleman, saying in a tone which betrayed some pique and
much amusement:

 
          
“Mademoiselle
need not wait to finish her work: behold the czar!”

 
          
I
was strongly tempted to laugh, and own the truth, but something in the prince’s
manner restrained me, and after gravely regarding the portrait a moment, I
began to copy it. My hand was not steady nor my eye clear, but I recklessly
daubed on till the prince, who had stood watching me, said suddenly in a very
mild tone:

 
          
“I
flatter myself that there was some mistake last evening; either Mouche failed
to do his errand, or the design of the trinket displeased you. I have
endeavored to suit mademoiselle’s taste better, and this time I offer it
myself.”

 
          
A
white-gloved hand holding an open jewel-case which contained a glittering ring
came before my eyes, anil 1 could not retreat. Being stubborn by nature, and
ruffled
bv
what had just passed, as well as bent on
having my own way in the matter, I instantly decided to refuse all gifts.
Retreating slightly from the offering, I pointed to the flowers on the table
near me, and said, with an air of grave decision:

 
          
“Monsieur
le Prince must permit me to decline. I have already received all that it is
possible to accept.”

 
          
“Nay,
examine the trifle, mademoiselle, and relent. Why will you not oblige me and be
friends, like Mouche?” he said, earnestly.

 
          
That
allusion to the dog nettled me, and I replied, coldly turning from the
importunate hand.

 
          
“It
was not the silver collar which consoled poor Mouche for the blows. Like him I
can forgive, but I cannot so soon forget.”

 
          
The
dainty case closed with a sharp snap, and flinging it on to a table as he
passed, the prince left the room without a word.

 
          
I
was a little frightened at what I had done for a moment, but soon recovered my
courage, resolving that since he had made it a test which should yield, I would
not be the one to do it, for I had right on my side. Nor would I be appeased
till he had made the
amende honorable
to me as to the dog. I laughed at
the foolish affair, yet could not entirely banish a feeling of anger at the
first violence and at the lordly way in which he tried to atone for the insult.

 
          
“Let
us wait and see how the sultan carries himself to-morrow,” I said; “if he
become
tyrannical, I am free to go, thank heaven; otherwise
it is interesting to watch the handsome savage chafe and fret behind the bars
of civilized society.”

 
          
And
gathering up mv work, I retired to my room to replace the czar’s face with that
of the prince.

 
          
“
Chere
amie,
you remember I told you that Alexis always gave me some trifle after
he had made me weep; behold what a charming gift I find upon my table to-day!”
cried the princess, as I joined her next morning.

 
          
She
held up her slender hand, displaying the ring I had left behind me the night
before. I had had but a glimpse of it, but I knew it by the peculiar
arrangement of the stones. Before I could say anything the princess ran on, as
pleased as a girl with her new bauble:

 
          
“I
have just discovered the prettiest conceit imaginable. See, the stones spell
‘Pardon;’ pearl, amethyst, ruby, diamond, opal, and as there is no stone
commencing with the last letter, the initial of my name is added in enamel. Is
not that divine?”

 
          
I
examined it, and being a woman, I regretted the loss of the jewels as well as
the opportunity of ending the matter, by a kinder reply to this fanciful
petition for pardon. While I hesitated to enlighten the princess, for fear of
further trouble, the prince entered, and I retreated to my seat at the other
end of the room.

 
          
“Dear
Alexis, I have just discovered your charming souvenir; a thousand thanks,”
cried his sister, with effusion.

 
          
“My
souvenir; of what do you speak, Nadja?” he replied, with an air of surprise as
he approached.

 
          
“Ah,
you affect ignorance, but I well know whose hand sends me this, though I find
it lying carelessly on my table. Yes, that start is very well done, yet it does
not impose upon me. I am charmed with the gift; come, and let me embrace you.”

 
          
With
a very ill grace the “dear Alexis” submitted to the ceremony, and received the
thanks of his sister, who expatiated upon the taste and beauty of the ring till
he said, impatiently:

 
          
“You
are very ingenious in your discoveries; I confess I meant it for a charming
woman whom I had offended; if you had not accepted it I should have flung it in
the fire. Now let it pass, and bid me adieu.
I
go to pass a week with Bagdonoff.”

 
          
The
princess was, of course, desolated to lose her brother, but resigned herself to
the deprivation with calmness, and received his farewell without tears. I
thought he meant to ignore me entirely, but to my surprise he approached, and
with an expression I had never seen before, said, in a satirical tone:

 
          
“Mademoiselle,
I leave the princess to your care, with perfect faith in your fidelity. Permit
me to hope that you will enjoy my absence,” and with a low bow, such as I had
seen him give a countess, he departed.

 
          
The
week lengthened to three before we saw the prince, and
1 am
forced to confess that I did
not
enjoy his absence. So monotonous grew my days that I joyfully welcomed a
somewhat romantic little episode in which I was just then called to plav a
part.

 
          
One
of my former pupils had a lover. Madame Bayard discovered the awful fact, sent
the girl home to her parents, and sternly refused to give the young man her
address. He knew me, and in his despair applied to me for help and consolation.
But not daring to seek me at the prince’s hotel, he sent a note, imploring me
to grant him an interview in the
Tuileries
Garden
at a certain hour. I liked Adolph, pitied
my amiable ex-pupil, and believing in the sinceritv of their love, was glad to
aid them.

 
          
At
the appointed time I met Adolph, and for an hour paced up and down the leafless
avenues, listening to his hopes and fears. It was a dull April day, and dusk
fell early, but we were so absorbed that neither observed the gathering
twilight till an exclamation from my companion made me look up.

 
          
“That
man is watching us!”

 
          
“What
man?” I asked, rather startled.

 
          
“Ah,
he slips away again behind the trees yonder. He has done it twice before as we
approached, and when we are past he follows stealthily. Do you see him?”

 
          
I
glanced into the duskv path which crossed our own, and caught a glimpse of a
tall man in a cloak just vanishing.

 
          
“You
mistake, he does not watch us; why should he? Your own disquiet makes you
suspicious,
man ami"
I said.

 
          
“Perhaps
so; let him go. Dear mademoiselle, I ask a thousand pardons for detaining you
so long. Permit me to call a carriage tor you.”

 
          
I
preferred to walk, and refusing Adolph’s entreaties to escort me, I went mv way
along the garden side of the Rue de Rivoli, glad to be free at last. The wind
was dying away as the sun set, but as a last freak it blew mv veil off and
carried it several yards behind me. A gentleman caught and advanced to restore
it. As he put it into my hand with a bow, I uttered an exclamation, for it was
the prince. He also looked surprised, and greeted me courteously, though with a
strong expression of curiosity visible in his face. A cloak hung over his arm,
and as my eyes fell upon it, an odd fancy took possession of me, causing me to
conceal my pleasure at seeing him, and to assume a cold demeanor, which he
observed at once. Vouchsafing no explanation of my late walk, I thanked him for
the little service, adjusted my veil, and walked on as if the interview was at
an end.

 
          
“It
is late for mademoiselle to promenade alone; as I am about to return to the
hotel, she will permit me to accompany her?”

 
          
The
prince spoke in his most gracious tone, and walked beside me, casting covert
glances at my face as we passed, the lamps now shining all about us. I was
angry, and said, with significant emphasis:

 
          
“Monsieur
le Prince has already sufficiently honored me with his protection. I can
dispense with it now.”

 
          
“Pardon,
I do not understand,” he began hastily; but I added, pointing to the garment on
his arm:

 
          
“Pray
assume your cloak; it is colder here than in the garden of the Tuileries.”

 
          
Glancing
up as I spoke, I saw him flush and frown, then draw
himself
up as if to haughtily demand an explanation, but with a sudden impulse, pause,
and ask, averting his eyes:

 
          
“Why
does mademoiselle speak in that accusing tone? Are the gardens forbidden ground
to me?”

 
          
“Yes;
when Monsieur le Prince condescends to play the spy,” I boldly replied, adding
with a momentary doubt arising in my mind, “Were you not there watching me?”

 
          
To
my infinite surprise he looked me full in the face, and answered briefly:

 
          
“I
was.”

 
          
“Adolph
was right then — I also; it is well to know one’s enemies,” I said, as if to
myself, and uttered not another word, but walked rapidly on.

 
          
Silent
also the prince went beside me, till, as we were about to cross the great
square, a carriage whirled round the corner, causing me to step hastily back.
An old crone, with a great basket on her head, was in imminent danger of being
run over, when the prince sprang forward, caught the bit and forced the
spirited horses back till the old creature gathered herself up and reached the
pave in safety. Then he returned to me as tranquilly as if nothing had
occurred.

 
          
“Are
you hurt?”
1
asked, forgetting my anger, as he pulled off and threw away
the delicate glove, torn and soiled in the brief struggle.

 
          
“Thanks — no; but the old woman?”

 
          
“She
was not injured, and went on her way, never staying to thank you.”

 
          
“Why
should she?” he asked, quietly.

 
          
“One
likes to see gratitude. Perhaps she is used to such escapes, and so the act
surprised her less than it did me.”

 
          
“Ah!
you
wonder that I troubled myself about the poor
creature, mademoiselle. I never forget that my mother was a woman, and for her
sake I respect all women.”

 
          
I
had never heard that tone in his voice, nor seen that look in his face before, as
he spoke those simple words. They touched me more than the act, but some
tormenting spirit prompted me to say: “Even when you threaten one of them with
a
— ”

           
I got no further, for, with a sudden
flash that daunted me, the prince cried imploringly, yet commandingly:

 
          
“No
— no; do not utter the word — do not recall the shameful scene. Be generous,
and forget, though you will not forgive.”

           
“Pardon, it was unkind, I never
will offend again.”

           
An awkward pause followed, and we
went on without a word, till glancing at me as we passed a brilliant lamp, the
prince exclaimed:

 
          
“Mademoiselle,
you are very pale — you are ill, over-wearied; let me call a carriage.”

 
          
“By
no means; it is
nothing
. In stepping back to avoid the
horses, I hurt my ankle; but we are almost at the hotel, and I can reach it
perfectly well.”

 
          
“And
you have walked all this distance without a complaint, when every step was
painful?
Ma foi!
mademoiselle
is brave,” he said,
with mingled pity, anxiety and admiration in his fine eyes.

           
“Women early learn to suffer in
silence,” I answered, rather grimly, for my foot was in agony, and I was afraid
I should give out before I reached the hotel.

 
          
The
prince hastened on before me, unlocked the side-door by which I usually
entered, and helping me in, said earnestly:

 
          
“There
are many steps to climb; let me assist you, or call some one.”

 
          
“No,
no, I will have no scene; many thanks; I can reach my room quite well alone.
Bon
soir,
Monsieur le Prince,” and turning from his offered arm, I set my teeth
and walked steadily up the first seven stairs. But on reaching the little
landing, pain overcame pride, and I sank into a chair with a stifled groan. I
had heard the door
close,
and fancied the prince gone,
but he was at my side in an instant.

 
          
“Mademoiselle,
I shall not leave you till you are safely in your apartment. How can I best
serve you?”

 
          
I
pointed to the bell, saying faintly:

 
          
“I
cannot walk; let
Pierre
carry me.”

 
          
“I
am stronger and
more fit
for such burdens. Pardon, it
must be so.”

           
And before I could utter a refusal,
he folded the cloak about me, raised me gently in his arms, and went pacing
quietly along the corridors, regarding me with an air of much sympathy, though
in his eyes lurked a gleam of triumph, as he murmured to himself:

 
          
“She
has a strong will, this brave mademoiselle of ours, but it must bend at last.”

 
          
That
annoyed me more than my mishap, but being helpless, I answered only with a
defiant glance and an irrepressible smile at my little adventure. He looked
keenly at me with an eager, yet puzzled air, and said, as he grasped me more
firmly: