^/-
 
 ^ARKA, THE NIHILIST 
 
 BY 
 KATHLEEN O'MEAEA 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 
 
 1887
 
 NARKA, THE NIHILIST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was All-souls Eve. The winter was setting in 
 early, and threatened, or perhaps we should say prom- 
 ised, to be a severe one ; for a hard winter was not looked 
 upon as a misfortune at Yrakow, the ancestral home of 
 Prince Zorokoif . Ice and snow brought too many plea- 
 sures in their train ever to be unwelcome there. 
 
 A group consisting of young Prince Basil Zorokoff, 
 his bi*other-in-law, M. de Beaucrillon, and three ladies 
 were assenabled in an old-fashioned tapestried room of 
 the castle. The two men wei'e smoking cigarettes, and 
 discussing sport between long drawn puffs. The three 
 ladies were sitting round the samovar. They j)resented 
 three as distinct types as could have been brought to- 
 gethe?' with a view to the setting off of each by contrast. 
 
 Sibyl, Comtesse de Beaucrillon, the daughter of the 
 house, was as blond as a Scandinavian, with light blue 
 eyes and fair hair; her hands were so small as to be 
 almost out of proportion with her figure, which was tall 
 and full; they were round and dimpled like a baby's, 
 with the delicate nails and pink finger-tips that one sel- 
 dom sees in perfection except in babies. Her move- 
 ments had the subtle fascinating grace that reminded 
 you of a kitten, or rather of a young cat, for there was 
 nothing of the undiofnified friskiuess of a kitten abou*^
 
 2 Narha. 
 
 Sibyl. She was patrician to the tips of her fingers. 
 Her mauners united the refined elegance of a French 
 woman with the soft serpentine grace of the women of 
 the north. 
 
 Marguerite de Beaucrillon was just below the middle 
 height, but she looked tiny beside her stately sister-in- 
 law. She had no pretensions to beauty, yet her face 
 was pleasanter to look at than many a beautiful one; 
 her clear olive skin, her warm color, her wistful bright 
 brown eyes, her dimples, and her glossy hair were sug- 
 gestive of youth, health, and happiness, and these natural 
 advantages were set off by the most becoming toilets; 
 for Marguerite had a French girl's taste and principles 
 about dress, and considered it seriously as one of the 
 daily duties of life. She was careful and very success- 
 ful in her combination of colors and effects. Yet you 
 would never have accused her of coquetry in the ordi- 
 nary sense. If you had been so uncharitable, one glance 
 into her face would have converted you. Her eyes were 
 as free from consciousness as a child's, and their lan- 
 guage was as transparent. Sibyl used to say to her, "If 
 you don't want people to see what you are thinking of, 
 drop your lids, for those eyes of yours are like windows 
 into your brain, and let one see your thoughts coming 
 and going." 
 
 Narka Larik, the adopted sister of Madame de Beau- 
 crillon, was the tallest of the three women, and cast in 
 altogether an ampler mould. If her figure had been 
 less perfectly proportioned, it might have seemed too 
 large ; her great luminous blue-black eyes, sometimes 
 quite blue, sometimes quite black, were soft as velvet, 
 but under the softness there lurked intimation of a fiery 
 vitality ready to awake and emit sparks at the lightest 
 touch; her mouth was jjerhaps a trillc too full for clas-
 
 Narka. 3 
 
 sical perfection, but its curves were so exquisite, the sen- 
 sitive play of tlie lips so lovely, that you never thought 
 of that; the clear tint of her complexion was like the 
 whiteness of some white flower; her hair, of that warm 
 red gold beloved of Titian, was knotted in thick coils at 
 the back of her head, and fell in rippling waves over her 
 low square forehead. There was something wild in the 
 character of Narka's beauty, in the lines of her figure. 
 She stood and moved with the strong, elastic ease of a 
 panther, or of some other grand, free, vmtamed creature. 
 Beautiful, incompai-ably more beautiful than Sioyl, 
 there was nevertheless something wanting to her beauty 
 which that of Sibyl possessed, impalpable but distinct, 
 something which marks the ditference between a high- 
 ly finished work of art and a spontaneous growth of Na- 
 ture in her happiest and most generous mood. This 
 difference was not noticeable except when the patrician 
 sister was brought into close contact with the plebeian, 
 and eveii then no one was conscious of it, perhaps, but 
 Narka herself. She knew that she was beautiful, and 
 far more gifted in many ways than Sibyl, and yet she 
 felt as much her inferior as the lowly born maid in 
 mediaeval times may have felt herself below the noble 
 demoiselle in whose train she was brought up. 
 
 The three friends were chatting over their teacups, 
 planning costumes for a fancy ball that was to take 
 place at the castle before Christmas. 
 
 "I wish I could hit upon something that would com- 
 bine everything," Marguerite said, putting her head on 
 one side with a pi-etty bird-like motion very character- 
 istic of her, and which always amused Basil Zorokoff. 
 
 "Why don't you consult me, cousin?" he said, hold- 
 ing out his cigarette between his first and second fingers 
 and gazing steadily at Marguerite ; but the twinkle in
 
 4 NarJca. 
 
 his blue eyes belied the extreme seriousness of his hand- 
 some face. 
 
 "Well?" said Marguerite, with another bewildering 
 turn of her head from left to right. 
 
 " Little Red Riding-hood would suit you to perfection. 
 The color would be becoming, and your eyes would 
 shine like diamonds under the scarlet hood, and you 
 would look like a Lilliputian Venus in the short petti- 
 coats." 
 
 "And you would play the wolf and howl at me ?" 
 
 "i^nd crunch you up; that I should do with great 
 satisfaction!" 
 
 "How many wolves' skins would it take to make a 
 costume for you, I wonder ?" said Marguerite, measur- 
 ing the tall young fellow's height with a glance of 
 saucy impertinence. "A pity it is so early in the 
 winter, or you might go and shoot half a dozen. How 
 exciting it must be to hear them howling in the forest ! 
 They never come till Christmas, do they ?" 
 
 Basil had not time to answer when a distant sound, 
 penetrating through the heavily curtained windows, 
 made them all start. 
 
 "There it is again !" said Narka. 
 
 "What is it?" said Marguerite. 
 
 "Listen !" Sibyl held up her jBnger, and the gentle- 
 men put down their cigarettes. 
 
 A long dismal howl, perceptibly nearer this time, was 
 again audible. 
 
 " Is it a wolf ?" asked Marguerite under her breath. 
 
 "At this time of the year?" said M. de Beaucrillon. 
 "You were just now telling me that they never came 
 till the snow was deep ?" 
 
 "No more they do," replied Basil. "I never before 
 knew, except when I was a child — "
 
 NctrJca. 5 
 
 "There it is again!" interrupted Sibyl, "and this 
 time quite close. Let us go up to the gallery." 
 
 "Oh, how dreadful!" exclaimed Marguerite, who 
 seemed too horrified to move. "If he were to dash at 
 the windows and break in !" 
 
 "He cei'tainly would if he saw you, little cousin," 
 said Basil; "but as he can't, we have nothing to fear. 
 Come along up to the gallery, and see what a live wolf 
 looks like." 
 
 He drew her arm through his, and led her off, excited 
 and only half reluctant. The others had all fled up 
 before them, and were already grouped in the deep 
 mullioned window at the further end of the gallery, 
 the only one that was in shadow, for it was a brilliant 
 night, and the full moon, riding high in the heavens, 
 sent as her largess broad bars of silver light through 
 the row of eight windows on one side of the gallery. 
 Basil, still holding Marguerite's arm within his, joined 
 the others, and they all stood watching. 
 
 The broad gravel-drive shone like granite in the daz- 
 zling whiteness of the moonshine ; one wing of the 
 castle was in black shadow, the other in brilliant light, 
 every arch and moulding carved in ebony and silver. 
 
 "Where is the brute sneaking?" said Basil. 
 
 " He can't be far off," said Narka. " The last howl 
 was very close." 
 
 They waited with bated breath. Nothing stirred. 
 The park was so silent you might have heard the stars 
 twinkling. 
 
 "Look! there he is!" exclaimed Sibyl, in a whisper, 
 pointing toward the clock tower, that was in shadow. 
 
 T\\Qj pressed closer, and strained their eyes. 
 
 "I see him!" Marguerite ci-ied, and, shuddering, she 
 clutched Basil's arm, as if safety lay in his coat sleeve.
 
 6 JSfarJca. 
 
 Basil bore it manfully. "Never fear, little cousin. 
 See, he is coming on!" 
 
 Tlie beast advanced a few steps and paused, one half 
 of his lank gray body in shadow, the other in sheen. 
 Suddenly he pricked his ears, held one forefoot suspend- 
 ed, and tui'ned his head toward the park in an attitude 
 of intense listening. 
 
 "Does he hear something?"' asked M. de Beaucrillon. 
 
 "It looks like it," Basil replied, uneasily. "I will 
 get my gun." 
 
 "So will I," said his brother-in-law. And they hur- 
 ried away together. 
 
 Presently the wolf turned his head toward the house, 
 moved forward a few steps, and glared up with his red 
 eyeballs. 
 
 To Marguerite there was something delicious in the 
 combination of horror and a sense of comfortable safety 
 that she experienced in looking down at the ferocious 
 animal from behind thick stone walls. 
 
 "Do you think he heard us speaking?" she asked, 
 almost under her breath. 
 
 Narka's fear and Sibyl's was that he had heard some- 
 thing else. What an age the gentlemen were in bring- 
 ing their fire-arms ! They had in reality been away 
 about two minutes. 
 
 " Oh, here they come !" said Sibyl. 
 
 "Open the window as quickly and quietly as you 
 can," said Basil. But before there was time to obey, 
 the wolf turned his head, and uttering a long howl, 
 bounded off, and disappeared round the cloclc tower. 
 
 "Confound tlie brute!" muttered Basil. 
 
 "I wonder why he darted away so suddenly?" said 
 Narka. 
 
 "Probably it was some noise in the thicket, some
 
 NarJca. *j 
 
 animal prowling abovxt," said Basil ; but lie did not seem 
 convinced. 
 
 "Suppose it were some one coming through the 
 park ?" suggested Marguerite. " How awful if it were !" 
 
 "Nobody is likely to be out this time of night," re- 
 plied her cousin. 
 
 "Hush! listen!" cried M. de Beaucrillon, laying his 
 hand on Basil's shoulder. 
 
 Every ear was strained. Yes, there was a sound of 
 galloping hoofs in the distance. 
 
 "Ought we to send out men with fire-arms?" asked 
 Sibyl. 
 
 "Where to?" said Basil. "That sound comes from 
 the left, and the brute made for the forest. Besides, no 
 one would be abroad at this hour without fire-arms. 
 I dare say it is Larclioff . I met him riding in to X. this 
 afternoon. He often rides back late. He is sure to be 
 armed. It would be a good joke if the wolf pulled him 
 down and made a meal of him." 
 
 "No such luck," cried Narka; "beasts of a species do 
 not prey on each other." 
 
 This speech sounded unnaturally cynical on the lips 
 of a young girl. Marguerite shrank imperceptibly away 
 from her, and moved closer to Basil. M. de Beaucrillon 
 felt the same repulsion so strongly that, under pretence 
 of putting aside his gun, he went out of the room. Pre- 
 sently Basil carried his to a safe corner, and then, step- 
 ping into the deep embrasure of one of the windows 
 flooded with light, called to Marguerite to join him. 
 She went tripping lightly aci'oss the polished floor, and 
 they stood together looking out at the moonlit land- 
 scape. 
 
 Sibyl and Narka remained alone. They were both 
 more disturbed than they wished to appear. Supersti-
 
 8 NarJca. 
 
 tious as genuine Muscovites, the coming of the wolf he- 
 fore the seasonable time was to them an ill omen, all 
 the more alarming from its vagueness. "The wolf 
 waits for the white carpet," was a saying of the pea- 
 sants; and when he appeared before the carpet was 
 spread, some calamity was certain to follow. 
 
 "Well, cousin, you have had a glimpse of one of our 
 winter amusements. How do you like it ?" asked Basil. 
 
 " I don't like it at all," replied Marguerite. 
 
 "You were saying, only a little while ago, that it 
 must be so exciting, and wanting me to turn wolf and 
 howl at you." 
 
 "Do you think the wolf overheard me ?" 
 
 "I will tell you a secret," said Basil. "I asked the 
 brute to come and howl for you to-night. At first he 
 flatly refused, like the brute that he is; then I bribed 
 him." 
 
 " What bribe did you offer him ?" 
 
 "You won't tell?" He bent his tall figure down 
 until his mustache almost touched her ear. " I told him 
 that Larchoff was coming this way, and that he could 
 sup off him." 
 
 "Oil!" said Marguerite, drawing away with a little 
 shudder. "Why do you want that poor man to be 
 devoured by a wild beast?" 
 
 "Because that poor man is more destructive than 
 any wild beast alive: he is the devil." 
 
 "Is he so wicked ? Who is he ?" 
 
 "Who is Larchoff? He is our neighbor, and dates 
 his descent from Peter the Great, who gave the family a 
 title. He is a liar and a hypocrite, as cruel as a tiger 
 and as greedy as a wolf, cowardly as a rat and dishon- 
 est as a Jew; he has all the bad instincts of man and 
 beast combined; he is only fit company for the devil,
 
 JVarka. 9 
 
 and that is where the curses of good men are speeding 
 him night and day." 
 
 ' 'Ah ! but that is wicked !" said Mai'guerite, with a shud- 
 der. "They ought to pray for liim tliat lie might repent." 
 
 "Pray for Larchoff !" Basil threw back his head with 
 a low laugh; the notion of anybody praying for Lar- 
 choff was immensely funny to him. "If the pi'ayers 
 wei-e heard, and that fiend were to repent and enter the 
 kingdom of heaven, I hope I may go somewhere else! 
 He has done more evil and made more men and women 
 miserable than any man of his generation, unless, pei'- 
 haps, his master the Czar. You know about old Lar- 
 choff, this fellow's father ? No ? Sibyl never told you ? 
 Well, listen. Jacob Larik, Narka's father, was a Jew; 
 they are a vile race, but Jacob was an exception; he 
 was honest, and very rich. He traded in fui'S, and he 
 was clever and industrious, as the Jews mostly are. 
 He lived in one of Larchoff 's villages, unluckily. One 
 day Larchoff, who, like his son, was always in want of 
 money, went to Jacob, and said he must pay down fifty 
 thousand rubles or pack up. Of course Jacob paid 
 them. At the end of six months Larchoff came down 
 on him for another fifty thousand. Jacob paid again ; 
 and so it went on until there was no more blood in the 
 stone. Then Jacob fell on his knees and besought Lar- 
 choff, for the sake of the God of Abraham, to spare him 
 and give him time to gain the money, and he would go 
 on working and paying while he could; but Larchoff 
 spat on him and mocked him, and then went off and 
 denounced him as deep in a plot against the life of the 
 Emperor. The poor wretch was seized and flogged and 
 tortured to make him confess ; and as he could not con- 
 fess, he was sent to Siberia. Fortunately he died on 
 the road."
 
 10 Narha. 
 
 " Oh my God ! And Narka ?" 
 
 ' ' Narka was a small toddler at the time. She and her 
 brother Sergius and Madame Larik came to live with us. 
 Nai'ka was educated with Sibyl, Sergius with me ; he was 
 such a dear good fellow, and so clever! He wanted to 
 be a physician, and just after old LarchoflF died he passed 
 his examinations brilliantly. We were all proud of 
 him, and everybody made much of him; all the people 
 in the district invited him and made a fuss over him. 
 It was very foolish, for it enraged Larchoff jils; he 
 knew that his father had been hated for the murder, as 
 it was called, of old Jacob, and that he himself was hated 
 as much as his father. He resolved to be revenged on 
 us all by ruining Sergius. He went and denounced the 
 poor fellow. Oh, it was a damnable piece of work!" 
 said Basil, with suppressed passion. 
 
 " What happened him ?" 
 
 " Sergius ? He was sent to Siberia." 
 
 "And is he there still ?" 
 
 "Yes — his bones are there. He lived three years at 
 the gold diggings, and then luckily he died. Poor 
 Sergius!" 
 
 "And his mother, and Narka ?" 
 
 " They lived through it, as people do. It broke their 
 hearts; but people live with broken hearts, as they do 
 with broken legs. We were all very fond of them — 
 Sibyl and Narka are like sisters. My mother always 
 spoke of Narka as her adopted child, and after her death 
 the two were inseparable." 
 
 "And that cruel, horrid man stays on here? Does 
 anybody speak to him ?" 
 
 "Speak to him I They cringe to him, they lick his 
 feet." 
 
 " You never speak to him ?"
 
 Ncirka. 11 
 
 "I spoke to him no later than this afternoon." 
 
 "Oh !" in a tone of shocked astonishment. 
 
 "My cliild, if I offended Larchoff, in spite of my 
 father's present influence at court, he would never rest 
 till he had sent me and all belonging to me after the 
 Lariks." 
 
 " Is it possible ? Why, he must be the devil." 
 
 " My sweet cousin, I began by telling you he was." 
 
 "And is there nothing to protect people against him ? 
 Is there no law in Russia?" 
 
 "Yes; there is the law of might and cunning." 
 
 After a moment's silence Mai'guerite said, in a confi- 
 dential sotto voce, looking up at Basil: "I wonder why 
 you don't make a revolution. If I were a Russian I 
 should be a Nihilist— is not that what j'ou call them ?" 
 
 Basil's eye flashed, and he made a sudden movement 
 as if he would have caught her in his arms; but he 
 checked himself, and said, with a laugh, "If you preach 
 treason of that sort, petite Frangaise, I will tell Lar- 
 choff, and you will be escoi'ted to the frontier imme^ 
 diately, and perhaps get a whipping first." 
 
 While this conversation was going on in the deep 
 recess of one window, Sibyl and Narka were talking 
 confidentially in another. 
 
 "I wonder whether Basil thinks at all seriously of 
 Sophie?" Sibyl remarked. "I do long to see him mar- 
 ried and out of harm's way !" 
 
 " Are you sure that to marry him to the sister of Ivan 
 Got-ff would be taking him out of harm's way ?" 
 
 Sibyl did not answer. 
 
 "Supposing it were," resumed Narka, "I could un- 
 derstand your overlooking a good deal to make him 
 settle down, as you say ; but I can't see how the Prince 
 should be anxious for such a marriage for his son. Paul
 
 12 Karka. 
 
 Gorif was a trader, and Ivan carries on his father's busi- 
 ness — on a grand scale, it is true; still, he is in trade; 
 and the daughter and sister of a trader is not the wife 
 one would expect Prince ZorokoflF to select for his son." 
 
 " It is hardly a selection. Who else is there to prefer 
 to Sophie? She is the only gii'l in the district. Basil 
 never goes to St. Petersburg except to pay his court to 
 the Emperor and rush back. You know how he used 
 to entertain us caricaturing all the gii-ls he sees there. 
 Then Sophie's mother was noble; it was considered a 
 dreadful disgrace her making that mesalliance with 
 Paul Gorff. Besides, she is sole heiress to her uncle's 
 enormous fortune, and Basil, with all his indifference to 
 money, knows very well that it is not a thing to be 
 despised; for I suspect my father is melting down his 
 fortune as fast as he can at St. Petersburg." 
 
 Narka did not reply. She knew well enough that the 
 Gorff money-bags were the bait that w^as making Prince 
 Zorokoff swallow his pride and court the trader's pretty 
 daughter for his son. But would Basil pi'ove an accom- 
 plice in the transaction ? 
 
 "Basil is far too proud to make a mesalliance for 
 money," continued Sibyl, contradicting her last words, 
 for she felt instinctively what was in Narka's mind, 
 "But he does admire Sophie. Besides, he is so chival- 
 rous I believe he would make any sacrifice to deliver 
 her from that brute Larchoff. Ivan says that Larchoff 
 is trying hard to ingratiate himself, and Sophie naturally 
 loathes the sight of him ; but if she were to let Larclfoff 
 see this, the consequences might be awful to herself and 
 Ivan. We know of what Larchoff" is capable." 
 
 "Yes," replied Narka, in a level undertone; "but it 
 would not be pleasant to have his vengeance turned 
 upon Basil as a successful rival."
 
 NarJca. 13 
 
 Before Sibyl could answer, M. de Beaucrillon inter- 
 rupted them. 
 
 " It appears the whole house is in a commotion about 
 the wolf," he said. "My man tells me they are proph- 
 esying the most appalling events — fires, earthquakes, 
 murders, and I know not what — on the strength of it." 
 
 " They are a pack of fools!" Basil called out, walking 
 up with Mai'guerite through the checkered light. ' ' Tliat 
 wolf came with the best intentions, solely to amuse Mar- 
 guerite. To-morrow he will provide entertainment for 
 you by giving us an opportunity to hunt him." 
 
 "Your Russian hospitality is sublime, tnon cher,'''' re- 
 plied M. de Beaucrillon. "The very wild beasts are 
 summoned to contribute to the enjoyment of your 
 guests." 
 
 And so, laughing, they went out of the gallery to- 
 gether, and separated for the night.
 
 14 JSfarka. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The excitement caused by the appearance of the wolf 
 was increased rather than lessened next morning by the 
 prospect of a hunt, which diverted the superstitious ter- 
 rors of the household into more healthy sensations. It 
 was a splendid day ; the sky was clear as sapphire, and 
 the frosty landscape glittered in the morning light. The 
 news had been taken down to the village at daybreak, 
 and when the ladies came down-sta,irs the hunt was as- 
 sembled on the lawn, every available man in the house- 
 hold being present with his gun ; the villagers and mou- 
 jiks in their costumes and slieep-skins, the dogs in force, 
 and all in high good-humor. 
 
 Narka and Sibyl entered into the prospect of the sport 
 with keen gusto ; but though Marguerite was alive to the 
 picturesque side of the adventure, the idea of a close en- 
 counter with such ferocious game was too terrifying to 
 admit of her entering into it with any sympathy. 
 
 "Why not set traps for the wolf, instead of exposing 
 men's lives in going to hunt him ?" she asked, as they 
 watched the scene on the lawn. 
 
 "But then where would be the sport ?'' cried Narka. 
 
 "Yes; that is what the men delight in," said Sibyl; 
 "and that is what wolves are for — to make sport for 
 them." 
 
 "It is the nature of men, I suppose, to like such 
 sport," said Marguerite; "but I can't understand your 
 liking it for them. Just think if the wolf were to turn 
 on Gaston or Basil and kill either of them !"
 
 Ncirka. 15 
 
 " Cherie, I'm not going to think anytliiug so unplea- 
 sant," cried Sibyl. "You are a little coward, you 
 French girl." 
 
 '"Yes, I am; but at any rate I have the courage of 
 my cowardice; I'm not ashamed to own it." 
 
 "There is no shame in being a coward for those we 
 love," said Sibyl, caressingly. 
 
 Marguerite blushed up scarlet. ' ' No ; I dare say even 
 Gaston would be frightened if he saw me going out to 
 fight a wolf." She gave a little sudden turn of her head 
 and looked away. 
 
 Narka saw the blush, and saw the movement to hide 
 it. Did "those they love" include for Marguerite some- 
 body besides Gaston ? Girls don't blush violently at 
 being suspected of cowardice on their brothers' behalf. 
 
 "Here comes Ivan Gorff," said Sibyl, as there emerged 
 from round the clock tower a broad-shouldered, loosely 
 jointed, bushy-headed young man. 
 
 Basil broke from a distant group to go and greet him. 
 As the two men walked up the broad gravel-path they 
 presented a striking contrast. Basil was the type of the 
 polished, highly civilized Russian seigneur, very tall, 
 with clear complexion, blue eyes, abundant fair hair, 
 and golden mustache; his countenance was frank and 
 full of intelligence, with a singular mobility of expres- 
 sion. 
 
 Ivan Gorff was by no means vulgar or ill-looking, but 
 his large head and massive shoulders, his loosely built 
 frame and his heavy, shuffling gait, showed to increased 
 disadvantage beside the finely proportioned figure and 
 noble bearing of the young Prince. 
 
 Ivan paid his respects to the three ladies, raising their 
 hands to his lips after the chivalrous fashion of his 
 countrymen, but he performed the ceremony with a
 
 16 Narka. 
 
 brusquerie which was the result not so much of shy- 
 ness as of an awkwardness that seems to be inseparable 
 from a badly built human frame. 
 
 "What does the village say, Ivan Gorff?" inquired 
 Sibyl. 
 
 "It says that a pack of wolves, variously estimated 
 from five to five-and-twenty, came down and kept up a 
 howling round the castle from midnight till dawn," re- 
 plied Ivan. 
 
 "That is how history gets written," observed M. de 
 Beaucrillon. 
 
 "What do they say brought the wolf down ?" inquired 
 Sibyl. 
 
 "They say he came for no good; they are terrified 
 out of their wits." 
 
 " They are a pack of idiots," said Basil. " I suspect 
 some rogue has been trapping cubs in the forest, and 
 the mother came down to look for them. The howl 
 sounded uncommonly like the call of the she-wolf." 
 
 "That was the first thing that occurred to me," said 
 Ivan; "but they all swore they knew nothing about 
 cubs being trapped." 
 
 "They were sure to swear that anyhow," laughed 
 Basil. 
 
 "By-the-way," said Ivan, "the wolf was near trap- 
 ping a cub of the devil's last night. Larchotf came up 
 with him on the road, and if he had not put a bullet 
 through the brute in time, and sent him yelling away 
 on tliree h^gs, he was a dead man." 
 
 " Whoin did he tell tbat stunning lie to?" asked Basil. 
 
 ' ' Father Christopher. He met Larchoff this morning 
 on his way to see some sick woman in the wood." 
 
 "I wish Father Christopher did not meet him so 
 often," said Basil. " He may brave the fellow once too
 
 Narha. 1 7 
 
 often, and my father may not be able to pull him out of 
 his fangs." 
 
 ' ' Father Christopher never thinks of that, " said Nai-ka ; 
 "he only thinks of sparing the peasants, of putting him- 
 self between them and LarchoflF's cruelty. If it were 
 not for Father Christopher, LarchofF would be flaying 
 them alive, and flogging them of a morning to get an 
 appetite for his breakfast. " 
 
 "Oh!" Marguerite gave a little scream. 
 
 ' ' She is only joking, cousin," said Basil. ' ' You should 
 not say those things before her," he added, angrily, to 
 Narka. 
 
 "No ; it is bad for her French nerves," observed M. de 
 Beaucrillon. He said it seriously, almost solemnly, but 
 Sibyl suspected he was mocking. 
 
 "The father is imprudent," she remarked. "It 
 would be much better for everybody concerned if he 
 tried to conciliate Larchoff." 
 
 "Yes," said Ivan; "if he would just my-lord-Count 
 him and flatter him a bit, it would serve the peasants 
 better." 
 
 "The father is too honest to flatter anybody," said 
 Narka, "much less such a vile thing as Larchott'." 
 
 "Pshaw!" said Ivan — "the notion of wasting fine 
 sentiment on a wolf ! One talks to a fool according to 
 his folly, and one ti*eats a savage as a savage. The 
 father will find out his mistake too late if he doesn't 
 change his tactics toward Larchoff. Paul the cobbler 
 heai'd high words between them on the road this morn- 
 ing; he did not catch what the quarrel was about, but 
 Larchoff shouted, 'If you don't keep your tongue wai*m, 
 you had better pack up.' 'I am always packed up,' 
 said the father ; ' I am ready to start every day, and I 
 
 would rather take the road to Siberia this minute than 
 2
 
 18 Narka. 
 
 abet your villany by holding my tongue.' Paul saw 
 them from behind the wall, and he says Larchoff looked 
 like a mad bull and the father like an angry lion, his 
 head thrown back and his white hair fluttering." 
 
 ' ' I wish the father would try and keep out of his way," 
 said Sibyl. 
 
 "Yes, but there is no keeping out of the devil's way," 
 said Basil. ' ' He is always about, seeking whom he may 
 devour." 
 
 A horn sounded from the lawn. 
 
 "Come ! let us be on the march," said Basil. 
 
 The three gentlemen went out, and presently the hunt 
 moved on. 
 
 The ladies watched it out of sight, but when Sibyl 
 turned from the window she missed Marguerite. 
 
 "She has gone to pray that they may not be devoured 
 by the wolf," said Narka, in answer to her exclamation 
 of surprise. 
 
 "Does she care so very much, do you think — I mean 
 for Basil ?" 
 
 "She cares enough, I dare say, to say a prayer for 
 him in an emergency." 
 
 Sibyl sat down to lj»er tapestry. Narka stood looking 
 out at the window. 
 
 " What a blessing it would be if Basil were to fall in 
 love with Marguerite!" said Sibyl, with a sigh as soft 
 and long-drawn as the silk she was pulling through her 
 needle. 
 
 Narka gave a curious smile. "You were sighing 
 last night that he might fall in love with Sophie." 
 
 "I would sigh for a month if it would help him to 
 fall in love with Marguerite. Sophie has some essen- 
 tials that would suit, but Marguerite has everything. 
 And she is so gentle 1"
 
 Narka. 19 
 
 "Are 5^011 sure such a gentle wife is what Basil 
 wants ?" 
 
 "He admires gentleness in a woman immensely. 
 Most men do." 
 
 " It does not follow that it would suit him hest. Basil 
 wants a wife that he could lean upon — a woman who 
 would guide him. Sophie has plenty of chax'acter, and 
 a very strong will; she turns her brother round her 
 finger," 
 
 " I should not like Basil to be turned round his wife's 
 finger. But you are mistaken in fancying that Mar- 
 guerite lacks character: she has plenty of character, 
 only it is kept down by her French training. Wait till 
 she is married, and then you will see how she will de- 
 velop. French girls are all like that." 
 
 "Would she many a schismatic?" 
 
 "Ah, that is the one obstacle. But if Basil tried, I 
 am certain he might overcome it. If he would only 
 make Marguerite fall in love with him !" 
 
 Something magnetic made Sibyl turn and look at 
 Narka. "Why do you smile like that?" she said. 
 " Don't you think a girl might love Basil ?" 
 
 "You and I have managed to love him." 
 
 "How silly you are sometimes, with all your clever- 
 ness, Narka! I mean a girl who is nothing to him. 
 If I were a girl — not his sister — I should easily fall in 
 love with him. Don't you think you would ? — if he 
 tried to make you ?" 
 
 "Perhaps. The Princess used to say that a woman 
 never could tell whether a man could make her love him 
 or not until he tried. I dare say she was right." 
 
 Sibyl raised one hand, and let it drop lightly on the 
 canvas with a gesture of utter amazement. 
 
 "To think that you of all women should not believe
 
 20 Narha. 
 
 Basil capable of winning any girl he set his heart on !" 
 she exclaimed — "Basil, who has everything that can 
 make a man charming !" 
 
 "Charm is very much a matter of individual taste 
 and sympathy," said Narka, and she lapsed into silence. 
 Presently she turned fi-om the window, and went to the 
 piano, and sat down, running her fingers over the keys 
 in an impromptu prelude which she accompanied at first 
 in a low, almost inarticulate murmur; but by degi-ees 
 the tones rose, and the rich voice gave forth its power, 
 uttering in music the passionate thought that seemed so 
 often folded in Narka's silence, and never expressed itself 
 freely but in song. Her voice was one of those rai'e and 
 rich instruments that combine every quality ; it had the 
 warm, mellow tones of a contralto, and the range of a 
 soprano, the high notes ringing out with bell-like clear- 
 ness, the lower soft as oil poured out: it was a voice 
 that would have made a fortune on tlie stage, so pow- 
 erful it was, so brilliant, and at the same time of such 
 melting sweetness. Narka never looked so beautiful 
 as when she was singing, and she would go on warbling 
 and trilling for hours, never tired, like a bird whose 
 natural speech was song.
 
 Narka, 21 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 The wolf hunt proved a failure. The sportsmen came 
 home without having seen or scented the game of which 
 they had gone in search. It had been discovered, how- 
 ever, that a peasant in one of Larchoff's villages had 
 trapped a cub two days before, and carried it off to his 
 father in the village beyond Yrakow. This discovery 
 was a great relief to the population, and calmed their 
 terrors by giving a natural explanation of the prema- 
 ture appeai'ance of the unwelcome visitor. It was evi- 
 dently the mother that had come down to look for her 
 stolen cub. 
 
 "All the same," Narka remarked, "I wish the week 
 were past, and that we were safe over the adventure." 
 
 "You don't sei'iously believe that it forebodes evil, 
 mademoiselle ?" said M. de Beaucrillon, looking at her 
 with amused incredulity. 
 
 "I seriously believe in precedent and tradition," re- 
 plied Narka, " It is a thing unprecedented for the wolf 
 to come down before the snow without some calamity 
 suddenly following. In the Prince's childliood a wolf 
 was seen in the village one night in October, and the 
 next day a fire broke out, and two-thirds of the houses 
 were burnt down." 
 
 "That is conclusive evidence, certainly; the wolf 
 was evidently an incendiary," observed M. de Beaucril- 
 lon, gravely. 
 
 " It is very well for you to laugh, Gaston, " said Sibj^l ; 
 " but you have your superstitions in Burgundy too, and
 
 22 Narha. 
 
 a score of precedents that everybody at Beaucrillon be- 
 lieves in. I wish we were safe out of the week." 
 
 "A week is the limit of the danger?" said Gaston, 
 with provoking- coolness. "If it is not fulfilled within 
 that time, the wolf is voted a false prophet ?" 
 
 "It so happens that hitherto it always has been ful- 
 filled within the week," replied Sibyl. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon in his secret soul hoped that it 
 would be fulfilled this week. He was beginning to feel 
 the place so deadly dull that it would have been a mercy 
 if the wolf bi'ought any change to enliven things. Even 
 a fire in the village would be better than nothing. Gas- 
 ton had only been three weeks at Yrakow, and it was 
 palling on him horribly. The magnificent vastness of 
 the castle, the barbaric splendor of the interior, the im- 
 mensity of the grounds, the immensity of the forest, the 
 scale of immensity on which everything within and 
 without was constructed, made the sense of desolateness 
 produced by the smallness of the social element propor- 
 tionately immense. The immobility of life in this en- 
 ormous palace, with its galleries as long as streets, and 
 its rooms as big as courts, and its halls as vast as ordi- 
 nary squares, was overpowering. There were seventy 
 servants in the household, but they made no more life in 
 the place than the flies on the pane. M. de Beaucrillon 
 sauntered through the vast apartments, and smoked 
 countless cigars, and felt as if he were walking in an 
 enchanted castle where everybody was under a spell of 
 somnolence. Basil was an excellent host, and did all 
 he could to wake up the sleeping inhabitants, but Basil 
 himself was under the spell. He did not understand 
 the need for being always awake; he went spasmodic- 
 ally from mercurial activity to absolute idleness, from 
 hunting a wolf, and similar out -door exercises, to
 
 JVarka. 23 
 
 lounging by the Lour ou the flat of his back with a 
 cigar in his mouth ; lie spent liours dreaming and 
 writing in his private study, emerging thence in alter- 
 nate moods of high excitement and profound melan- 
 choly. M. de Beaucrillon was very fond of his brother- 
 in-law, but he did not understand him; Basil, for all his 
 physical strength and reckless courage, seemed to him 
 more a woman than a man, a creature made of contra- 
 dictions, of impulses, of passionate emotions and ex- 
 aggerations. 
 
 The day after the hunt, Marguerite and Narka went 
 out for a ride. As they passed through the village, 
 Narka pointed out the cottage where she and her mo- 
 ther resided since Sibyl's marriage. 
 
 "You must take me to pay a visit to Madame Larik 
 as soon as she's well enough, " said Marguerite. ' ' When 
 will that be ?" 
 
 "In a few days, I hope," Narka replied, looking 
 pleased and grateful. "She has been much better this 
 last week, and has had good nights: that is why I have 
 been able to stay at the castle. It is seldom that her 
 rheumatism is so bad at this season, poor dear mother!" 
 
 "Ought she not go to some German baths for it?" 
 said Marguerite. 
 
 " Yes, she ought; and I hope some day to be able to 
 take her to Aix-la-Chapelle. Some day sounds vague," 
 Narka added, in answer to a look in Marguerite's face ; 
 "but we are waiting on a legacy that is to come to us 
 from an old I'elative of mother's. I have never seen 
 him, so it is not very cynical of me to look forward to 
 enjoy his money — is it ? And the doctor assures me Aix 
 would do wonders for my mother." 
 
 "And then joii will come on and spend the autumn 
 at Beaucrillon and the winter in Paris."
 
 24 Narha. 
 
 "That would be a charming programme, "said Narka, 
 smiling", ' ' but mother has a great desire to spend a month 
 in Munich, her native place, and then to make a little 
 tour in Germany ; and I don't know whether the legacy 
 would admit of all that and a journey to France. 
 Though, with our simple habits, a little money would 
 go a long way. " 
 
 Marguerite had lost sight of this fact in Narka's posi- 
 tion, that she and her mother were very poor, dependent 
 almost wholly on the generosity of the Zorokoffs, who 
 had given them a cottage and a large garden. 
 
 " But you have travelled already ?" Marguerite said. 
 
 "I have been to St. Petersburg several times with the 
 Princess; we spent some winters there, and had mas- 
 ters. It was there chiefly that I learned singing. The 
 Princess had me taught by a great Italian master from 
 Rome. What a delightful man he was, and liow I did 
 enjoy his lessons! We used to go twice a week to the 
 opera — your aunt was so good to me ! She was an angel, 
 the Princess. I was always sorry she was not Russian." 
 
 Marguerite smiled. "I hope you will come soon to> 
 France and stay with us," she said. "I do so long to 
 convert you !" 
 
 ' ' That would be a cruel trick to play me. I should' 
 be either sent to Siberia or put into a dungeon for the^ 
 rest of my life." 
 
 "Oh ! I did not mean a religious conversion ; I meant 
 to convert you to being a little more French and a little 
 less Russian. They would not put you in prison for 
 that ?" 
 
 " No, they would not put me in prison for that. But 
 ought you not to be satisfied with having converted 
 Sibyl ? Don't you think she is a very creditable con- 
 vert ?"
 
 Karka. 25 
 
 " On tlie whole; but she has many heresies still; she 
 maintains, for instance, that the climate here is better 
 than in France, that she never felt so cold in St. Peters- 
 burg as she does in Paris. She also clings to the belief 
 that a paternal Muscovite government is the best in the 
 world. There is only one point on which her conver- 
 sion is entirely satisfactory. She admits that French 
 husbands are perfection. Would it be hopeless to try 
 to convert you to that belief, Narka ?" 
 
 "Quite!'' — spoken very emphatically. 
 
 "How heartily you say that! I don't wonder you 
 owe a grudge to the race for having stolen away Sibyl. 
 What a loss she must have been to you !" 
 
 " And not to me only. Her departure left all these 
 poor people"— glancing round over the country — ' ' at the 
 mercy of the Jews and the bureaucrats, who prey on 
 them like wolves." 
 
 " But don't tlie Prince and Basil protect them ?" 
 
 "Basil does what he can ; but he has not much power. 
 As to the Prince, he is nearly always at St. Petersburg, 
 looking after the future. Meanwhile the Stanovoi, who 
 is a gi'asping. cruel man, has it all his own way; he 
 and Larchoff are in league — a pair of devils." 
 
 "The Prince must be a very odd man," Marguerite 
 •said, looking confidential. "My maid tells me stories 
 about his goings on when he is here that would make 
 ■one think he was stark, staring mad." 
 
 Narka laughed. " I dare say he would be locked up 
 •as a lunatic in any country but Russia; but his mad- 
 ness is harmless enough — more so, indeed, than his sane- 
 ness. He keeps everybody in commotion day and night 
 -while he is here. He never goes to bed or undresses at 
 night; he smokes and drops asleep in a chair, sitting 
 holt-upright ; every now and then he falls off his chair
 
 26 JVarka. 
 
 and bangs himself on the ground; and then he starts 
 up, seizes his gun, that is always beside him, rushes to 
 the window, and fires out at the night. He does this 
 four times, rushing to the four sides of the house as fast 
 as he can go, and throwing open the windows with as 
 much noise as he can make. Sibyl and Basil had the 
 greatest difficulty to prevent him doing it this last time ; 
 they said you would all be so frightened, and they 
 should not know what to say to you to explain it." 
 
 Marguerite's eyes grew round with amazement. 
 "And was that why the Prince ran away in such a 
 hurry ?" 
 
 " Probably that had something to do with his flight. 
 He says he can never sleep a night through here with- 
 out exercising himself in fire-arms, and he pretends it is 
 protection to the village against wolves and Larchoff." 
 
 "He certainly would pass for a lunatic in France," 
 said Marguerite, her face bi'eaking into dimples of sup- 
 pressed laughter. "And used he go on in that way 
 when Aunt Isabella was alive ?" 
 
 "Not so badly. She kept him in order. He gave 
 her his word once that he would not shoot at the night 
 for a month; but one night he jumped out of bed and 
 emptied his revolver through the window as fast as he 
 could shoot; the Princess rushed in and caught him in 
 the act, and he declared he had been asleep and dream- 
 ing, and had no intention of breaking his word. He 
 went back to bed; but presently she and all of us heard 
 a noise from down-stairs of some one howling in pain. 
 We all rushed out to see what was the matter, and 
 there in the middle of the hall was the Prince wliipping 
 himself with all his might, and roaring like a bull. He 
 said lie could 7iot go to sleep witli remorse for having 
 broken his word, and felt he must get up and whip him-
 
 JVarka. 21 
 
 self as he would have had one of the sei'vants whipped 
 for offending in the same way. The Princess hesought 
 him to stop, but he woukl not; he went on whipping 
 and yelling till he had given himself the number of 
 stripes he thought proper, and then he went up to bed; 
 his back was scarred with welts, and hurt him for days." 
 
 Marguerite was seized with such an immoderate fit of 
 laughter that she had to rein in her horse and go at a 
 foot's pace till it was over. "Why, he is as mad as any 
 maniac in Charenton !" she exclaimed, when she was 
 able to speak. 
 
 "He is a little eccentric," said Narka; "but his ec- 
 centricities are all veiy harmless. The Princess kept 
 them within bounds, and so did Sibyl in a lesser de- 
 gree." 
 
 " I don't wonder you miss Sibyl." 
 
 They cantered on a little way without speaking. 
 
 "There is one good thing that has come to me out of 
 Sibyl's departure," Narka resumed. " It has led to 
 mother's and my living in the village. You can't get 
 reallj' to sympathize with the sufferings of people, and 
 help them, until j'ou come close enough to share them ; 
 we never realize them so long as we are in a fool's par- 
 adise of luxury and ease. The pain of poverty is like 
 every other pain; nothing but jiersonal experience can 
 make us understand it, and teach us the kind of relief it 
 wants. It is like a man born in the tropics trying to 
 realize cold from a description in a book. He never 
 could do it. No description could give him the physical 
 sensation of feet and hands tingling and perishing, of 
 blood chilled in his veins, of eyes blinded and smarting 
 in a bitter icj^ wind. He must leave the tropics and go 
 up into a Northern climate to know what it all means. 
 To live in a great palace amidst luxury and abundance
 
 28 Karha. 
 
 of every sort is like living in the tropics. I never real- 
 ized what our wretched peasants had to endure until I 
 came to live amongst them in the village, and saw how 
 they suffer in every way — from poverty, from the cli- 
 mate, from ignorance, and, above all, from the cruelty of 
 the Jews and the government officials." 
 
 "But is there no redress? Is there no justice to be 
 had for them ?" 
 
 "Father Christopher keeps telling them they will get 
 justice in the next woi'ld." 
 
 "Even in this there are laws to protect the weak 
 against the sti'ong. God has not left Himself without 
 w^itnesses on the earth." 
 
 ' ' I wonder where His witnesses are in Russia ?" Narka 
 laughed. 
 
 "The people themselves are His witnesses ; they be- 
 lieve and they hope in Him." 
 
 "Then why does He let them be crushed and tortured 
 and destroyed ?" 
 
 "Oh, Narka, that pagan 'why' is always in your 
 mouth I" 
 
 "It is in the mouth of the people everywhei'e — every- 
 where. They are down-trodden, and oppressed, and 
 made to suffer injustice." 
 
 ' ' Not in France, " protested Marguerite. ' ' The people 
 are not down-trodden there." 
 
 "They are in Russia. Why are they? Why does 
 God pei'mit it? If His justice is anywhere on earth, it 
 ought to be everywhere — in Russia as well as in France." 
 
 " Wrong cannot be made right in a day. We must 
 be patient." 
 
 ' ' We are patient, heroically patient — under the wrongs 
 and sufferings of others." The passionate irony in Nar- 
 ka's voice sounded more bitter than the words themselves.
 
 Narha. 29 
 
 ** I am sure we are trying to make the world less bad 
 and life less hard on the poor," said Marguerite. "Don't 
 you think that they have much less to sufiFer now than 
 they had a thousand years ago ? — or even a liundred ?'' 
 
 ' ' In France, I dare say, thanks to your glorious Rev- 
 olution." 
 
 "Oh, Narka! you call it glorious? That dreadful 
 reign of terror, when the people rose up against God and 
 murdered the King!" Marguerite felt again that vague 
 repulsion which had made her more than once shrink 
 away from Narka. 
 
 ' ' The people rose against a reign of ty I'anny that had 
 ended by driving them mad. Would that Russia could 
 follow the example of France, and have her revolu- 
 tion !" 
 
 Marguerite was shocked at the passionate hatred ex- 
 pressed in Narka's tone and words ; but she remembered 
 her father di-opping on the road into exile, and her 
 young brother dying in Siberia, and revulsion gave way 
 to pity. 
 
 "If you ever make a revolution in Russia," she said, 
 "let it be a revolution of love, not of hate." 
 
 Narka laughed. "And burst our chains by kissing 
 them." 
 
 "There is nothing love might not do if people would 
 only believe in it, " said Marguerite ; " if only they would 
 let it rule the woi-ld instead of hatred. If they would 
 let it have its way lilce the blessed sunshine it would 
 turn this world into a paradise. I wonder why people 
 can't believe in love ?" 
 
 As she threw back her head, and put this question to 
 the winter sky, there was a light in her eyes that con- 
 trasted strikingly with the flame in Narka's — the light of 
 love and the flame of hate — hate just in its cause and
 
 30 JSTarka. 
 
 cruelly provoked, but even in those beautiful eyes its 
 eflfect was repulsive. 
 
 Narka was surprised to see what strength of feeling 
 lay beneath the bright, buoyant, and seemingly thought- 
 less happiness of the young French girl. Sibyl was 
 right: there were slumbering forces underlying Ma^-- 
 guerite's nature which only needed certain opportunities 
 to develop. Narka felt this recognition forced upon her, 
 and she would not perhaps have acknowledged that the 
 discovery caused her something like a sense of alarm or 
 disappointment. The two girls, as by tacit consent, put 
 their horses into a canter, and rode on a long way with- 
 out exchanging a word. 
 
 At last Narka said, "We must not forget that we have 
 to get back." She looked at her watch, and saw that it 
 was four o'clock. They turned their horses' heads 
 homeward. 
 
 In those Northeastern countries the twilight is short, 
 and night closes in almost as suddenly as the di'opping 
 of a curtain. When they re-entered the village of Yra- 
 kow it was growing dark; the moon had risen, and a 
 few stars had sprung out. Just as the castle came in 
 sight the two riders were startled by shrieks that seemed 
 to come from the forest. They pulled up their horses 
 and stopped to listen. In a moment the groom, whom 
 a curve in the road had hidden, came trotting up, and 
 said sometliing in Russian which evidently alarmed 
 Narka. She was going to turn back, when some further 
 information from tlie servant caused her to change her 
 intention, and she went on. 
 
 "What has happened?" inquired Marguerite. 
 
 " He does not know, but he saw Sophie GorfiP running 
 from the road without anything on lier head." 
 
 "Was she running from the wolf, do you think?"
 
 Narka. 31 
 
 "That is not likely: the wolf would have been pur- 
 suing her." Narka stopped her horse again and hesi- 
 tated ; but after a short parley with the groom she rode 
 on again. 
 
 "Sophie is out of harm's way now, at aiay rate," she 
 said. "Dmitri saw her cross the road toward her own 
 house. What could it have been ?" 
 
 Moved by lingering curiosity, they both cast a back- 
 ward glance toward the forest. As they looked, they 
 heard the report of a gun. 
 
 "Who can be shooting at this hour?" exclaimed 
 Narka. "It must be as black as night in the forest." 
 
 Presently they saw the figure of a man carrying a 
 gun emerging from the road adjoining the park. 
 
 "It is Basil, I do believe," said Marguerite. "I dare 
 say it was he who frightened Sophie." She called out 
 and made signs with her whip, but Basil held on his 
 way, and strode across the pax*k without looking round. 
 
 " How stupid of him not to hear!" said Marguerite. 
 
 "Perhaps he hears, but does not want to come out of 
 his way." 
 
 "Is he such a boor as to do that? No Frenchman 
 alive would be capable of anything so rude," protested 
 Marguerite, indignantly. 
 
 Narka's face positively beamed as she looked at her. 
 "You think Frenchmen are so much mox'e gallant? 
 You think Eussians are boors ?" 
 
 "I think Basil is behaving like a boor, and I shall 
 tell him so," said Marguerite, with the prettiest show of 
 offended dignity. 
 
 Narka gave a light laugh that sounded musically 
 sweet. 
 
 " I want to stop a few minutes hei-e," Marguerite said, 
 as they came to the little Catholic chapel. "Do you
 
 32 Narka. 
 
 mind going on alone, and leaving Dmitri to mind my 
 horse ?" 
 
 "Why may I not wait and come in with you ?" said 
 Narka. 
 
 "Oh! if you don't mind." 
 
 They both alighted and went in. 
 
 The chapel was merely an oratory attached to the 
 house where Father Christopher lived. It had been 
 built for him by the Princess when his office of tutor to 
 Basil came to an end. The Roman Catholics at Yrakow 
 were few, and these with others scattered through neigh- 
 boring villages on Prince Zorokoff's estates were the 
 persons who profited by the old priest's ministry. His 
 congregation was composed chiefly of foreigners — ^pro- 
 fessors and servants — residing in families or living in 
 th& villages; but, small as it was, it gave him a good 
 deal to do, owing to the distances over which it was scat- 
 tered. He had to visit the sick in places a long way off, 
 and these distant visits were one of the whips that 
 LarchoflF held over the father's head. They afforded an 
 outward semblance of truth to the charge of proselyting 
 which Larchoff was constantly threatening to bring 
 against him, and which in Russia is regarded as a hei- 
 nous crime, visited, like high treason, with the penalty 
 of death. 
 
 The little chapel was almost dark; there was no light 
 but the red glow of the sanctuary lamp. A few wor- 
 shippers were kneeling in tlie shadows, waiting for 
 Father Christopher to come into the confessional. Mar- 
 guerite knelt down at the altar rail, and was at once 
 absorbed in her devotions. Narka, from a prie-dieu a 
 little behind, watched her with an odd mixture of admi- 
 ration, envy, and satisfaction. The faith that could thus 
 absorb a human being in an instant must be very strong
 
 Narka. 33 
 
 — too strong to be shaken by any earthly feelings, by 
 any mundane interests, by any pi-omptings of passion. 
 Narka had had a glimpse into Marguerite's nature, and 
 that glimpse had shown her, beneath the light, child- 
 like exterior, a woman endowed with a supei'natural 
 creed which makes the weakest creature invulnerable 
 against self, fitting her to cope victoriously with perils 
 against which mere natural strength is frail and faith- 
 less. How fervently the girl prayed! In the red light 
 of the lamp above her Narka could see her lips moving 
 rapidly. She envied her being able to pray like that. 
 But it was easy, for Marguerite to do so; it was easy for 
 her to believe in God's love, and call Him Father, and 
 ask that His will might be done. He had been a father 
 to her, and His will had been always kind and loving. 
 He had not tried her faith by injustice and cruel wrong; 
 He had not confounded her hope and turned it to 
 despair. This loss of faith in an Almighty love was 
 perhaps the bitterest suffering which the hai*d ways of 
 God and man inflicted on their helpless victims, Narka 
 thought, as she watched the happy young French girl 
 praying. 
 
 They had not been many minutes in the chapel when 
 Father Christopher entered from the sacristy, and after 
 kneeling a moment before the tabernacle, went into the 
 confessional. 
 
 Marguerite stood up, and whispei'ed to Narka, 
 
 "Would there be time for me to wait and go to con- 
 fession now ?" 
 
 "Oh no," Nax'ka replied; "it is too late. You had 
 better come to-morrow morning. You will find hira 
 before mass." 
 
 Marguerite assented, and they went out and rode 
 home. 
 3
 
 3i JVarka. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 They were now assembled in the drawing-room, Sibyl 
 busy at her tapestry, Narka sitting, with her long white 
 hands in her lap, waiting to pour out the tea. Marguerite 
 turning over the leaves of a book of old engravings with 
 an air of excited interest, M. de Beaucrillon deep in his 
 newspapers, and Basil measuring the long length of the 
 room, slowly jiacing up and down, his hands in his 
 pockets and a cigai^ette in his mouth, his handsome face 
 clouded by an air of abstraction, almost of sadness, as 
 his thoughts were far away from tlie company grouped 
 round the lamp. Presently, passing near the table, he 
 looked up, and his eyes rested on his cousin. It was a 
 picture on which any man's eyes must have rested com- 
 placently. Marguerite's face had little claim to admira- 
 tion beside Sibyl's blond loveliness and Narka's rich 
 beauty of line and coloring, and yet there was a charm 
 about its irregular features that made it no contemptible 
 rival to either. It was the very personification of youth- 
 ful brightness and health; the small spirited nose was 
 moi'e piquant than if it had been classical, and the whole 
 face sparkled with happiness and curiosity. This even- 
 ing all her prettiness and brightness were further en- 
 hanced by an irresistible little demi-toilet of a white 
 gauzy material, rose-colored ribbons in bows and loops 
 sprouting out of the white foam as naturally as the rose- 
 colored flower sprouted out of the curls and coils of her 
 glossy brown hair. Marguerite was intent on the en-
 
 JVarka. 35 
 
 gravings. Suckleii]3', with an exclaniatiou of dismay, 
 "Sibyl," she cried, "I have made a dreadful mistake!" 
 
 They all looked vip, interested and attentive. Basil 
 stopped in his walk to hear. 
 
 " That head-dress that I sketched and sent to Paris for 
 ■will be out of keeping. I now remember it was in a 
 porti-ait of Velasquez that I saw it ; so fancy how it will 
 clash with that Florentine thirteenth-century costume ! 
 What shall I do ?" 
 
 "What were we all thinking about?" said Sibyl. 
 Then, after a moment's reflection : " Really, ma cherie," 
 she added, "I don't think you need Avorry about it. 
 No one here is likely to find out the anachronism. If 
 it were in Paris, now — " 
 
 "That is a pretty character you are giving us," said 
 Basil, who had been listening Avith intense amusement 
 to Marguerite's distressing confession. "You want to 
 make out that in Russia we are a set of barbarians and 
 dunces." 
 
 " Dear, I would not woiTy about it," Sibj'l continued, 
 addi'essing herself with sympathetic earnestness to Mar- 
 guerite. "As a head-di-ess it will suit you beautifully, 
 and that is the great point. Not that I fully approved 
 of your choice of the costume ; you know I said I 
 thought a Greuze would suit you better." 
 
 "AGreuzel" exclaimed Basil, contemptuously, and he 
 threw his hands up to the ceiling. "Trust one pretty 
 woman for advising another to her ruin ! You ought to 
 have consulted a man, cousin; you ought to have con- 
 sulted me; I would have advised you honestly, to your 
 advantage. Since you won't be Red Riding-hood, and 
 let me play W^olf to you, why shouldn't you go as Jeze- 
 bel or Judith ? — Jezebel with a hatchet, or Judith with a 
 drawn sword ? I'll lend you one as big as yourself, and
 
 36 Narha. 
 
 show you how to carry it. You woukl look superbly 
 tragic in a Jewish turban. Or, if you like something 
 more modern, there is Charlotte Corday — " 
 
 Marguerite seized one of Sibyl's balls of wool, took 
 aim, and hit the scoffer right on the nose. 
 
 "Bravo! What a capital shot! If this had been a 
 bullet aimed at my heart, I was a dead man," said Basil, 
 catching the ball and weighing it in his hand. "By- 
 the-way, as you are such a shot, little cousin, why should 
 not you go as Diana the huntress ? I will teach you 
 how to draw the bow if you like." 
 
 "Cousin Basil," said Marguerite, slapping the engrav- 
 ing of Anne of Austria with a heavy paper-knife, and 
 facing her tormentor, " I can't think Avhy I don't hate 
 and detest you, for you aggravate me moi'c than any- 
 body I know." 
 
 " That is precisely why," said Basil. 
 
 "Why what?" 
 
 " Why you are so fond of me. It's because I aggra- 
 vate you." 
 
 "Oh! — is it? Well, just leave off aggravating, and 
 see if I don't grow fonder and fonder of you." 
 
 "You might grow too fond of me!" surveying her 
 with a comical air of alarm. 
 
 She glanced up at him with a flash of mirth and mis- 
 chief in her brown eyes. "Well," she said, slowly, 
 as if weighing consequences, "I might; but I'll risk it, 
 if you don't mind." 
 
 He sat down opposite to her, leaned forward, and began, 
 stroking his silken beard meditatively; this skirmishing 
 with his pretty cousin was delightful. " It is a desperate 
 risk for me to run," he remarked, solemnly. 
 
 "Run it!" said Sibyl, entering merrily into the fray; 
 ' ' don't be a coward !"
 
 NurJca. 37 
 
 " I'll tell you what," said Marguerite, slapping Anne 
 of Austria again with the paper-knife, "here are three 
 competent judges : there is Narka, an artist and a mystic ; 
 Sibyl, a superior and cultivated woman; Gaston, a yAu.- 
 lanthropist and a politician." 
 
 "Heavens! what names \o\x are giving us all!" pro- 
 tested M. de Beaucrillon, laying down his newspaper and 
 looking up in surprised expectation. 
 
 Something in her brother's astonished face, or perhaps 
 a twinkle in Basil's eye, recalled Marguerite to the fact 
 that she was on slippery ground, and cut short the ap- 
 peal she was about to make to the three judges. "I 
 wish Gaston would tell you not to be so disagreeable," 
 she said, turning away like a naughty child, and blush- 
 ing as red as the flower in her hair, 
 
 "For goodness' sake don't set them fighting, or there 
 will be no living in the house!'' protested Sibyl, coming 
 to the rescue with her subtle tact, for she saw Mar- 
 guerite's embarrassment; "and we shall want jDcace 
 amongst ourselves if we are to keei> any kind of order 
 amongst our friends and relations." 
 
 "How many are we going to be, all told — do you 
 know ?'' asked Basil. 
 
 "About three hundred." 
 
 "All staying in the house!" exclaimed Marguerite. 
 "Oh! how many guest-rooms have 3-0U ?" 
 
 "Seventy-five. But then there is the armory; about 
 a hundred manage to sleep there; they did at my mar- 
 riage." 
 
 "But there are no beds in the armory," said Mar- 
 guerite, more and more amazed. 
 
 "We don't i^ut up beds," said Basil. " People bring 
 their own beds and x)illows; that is our barbarian mode 
 of proceeding."
 
 38 JSTarJca. 
 
 "What fan!" said Marguerite. "It must be like 
 camping out, with all the warriors and coats of mail 
 mounting guard over one. I dare say they enjoy it 
 very much." 
 
 "They seemed to do so last time, if one might judge 
 from the noise they made," remarked Narka, Avho had 
 been silent for a long time, and watching Marguerite 
 with a coldly critical expression that would have fright- 
 ened the girl if she had noticed it. " They kept it up till 
 all hours of the morning, and I got very little sleep, for 
 my room was over the encampment." 
 
 "They did make a most infernal racket one night," 
 said Basil, with a boyish laugh, as if the recollection of 
 the racket were very pleasant. "Some youngster pro- 
 posed that they should all get into the coats of mail 
 and march out into the park like a phantom procession, 
 and frighten the wits out of everybody. The joke was 
 at once adopted, and tliey were buckling themselves into 
 the armor, when Larchoff, who was too drunk to know 
 what he was about, pulled off his boot and began to 
 hammer at some warriox*'s helmet. They had to fall on 
 him, half a dozen of them, and strap him into a big suit 
 of mail, and then bind his legs so that he had to lie quiet. 
 He bellowed under the operation like a bull. It was 
 awful. No Avonder Narka could not sleep. I hope you 
 won't put Larchoff in the armory this time, Sibyl." 
 
 "You don't mean to say that that dreadful man is in- 
 vited !" Marguerite exclaimed, in a tone of incredulity. 
 
 "He was not invited then," said Sibyl; "but he 
 thought it would be pleasant, so he came without being 
 asked. Larchoff we se gene 23as.''^ 
 
 "I can't understand your letting him into the house 
 at all," said Marguerite. 
 
 "My cousin, there are many things in this country
 
 JSTarJca. 39 
 
 that you can't understand," remarked Basil, with a pecul- 
 iar laugh. 
 
 There were indeed very few things in Russian life, it 
 seemed to Marguerite, that she could understand. The 
 mixture of Oriental magnificence and harbarous dis- 
 comfort, of lavish expenditure and shabby makeshift — 
 letting guests bring their bedding and encamp on floors, 
 and setting them gold plate to eat off — these things were 
 in their way as puzzling to her as that Prince ZorokofP 
 should tolerate under his roof and admit to his table 
 such a wretch as Larcholf. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon had not been joining in the conver- 
 sation; he had been deep in his newspai^ers; but he had 
 now finished them, and got up and drew a chair to the 
 tea-table, "Mademoiselle, I should like a cup of tea," 
 he said. 
 
 Narka took the teapot from the samovar, and was 
 proceeding to pour out the tea, when the door opened, 
 and Vasili, Basil's valet, pale and scared, stood on the 
 threshold, and said something in Russiaai. It was an- 
 swered by an exclamation of horror from the three who 
 understood. 
 
 " What is the matter?" asked M. de Beaucrillon. 
 
 The man, Avho spoke French freely, replied, "Count 
 Larchoft" has been murdered!" 
 
 For a moment horror seemed to have rendered every 
 one speechless; then they plied Vasili with questions. 
 His story was short. Two peasants had found the count 
 lying in the forest with a gunshot wound in his chest. 
 They thought he Avas dead, and carried him to the near- 
 est cottage. He regained consciousness, and tried hard 
 to say something, but no one could understand. At 
 last they distinguished the words "Forgive! forgive! 
 Father Christopher," They thought he wanted to con-
 
 40 Narha. 
 
 fess, and some one ran for Fatlier Christopher, while 
 two others fetched the doctor and the pope. Father 
 Christopher "was nearest ; he was in the confessional 
 when the message came, and rushed out as he was. 
 Wlien he got to the cottage, Larclioff was still breathing. 
 By the time the iDope arrived it was all over. 
 
 "Who brought this news?" Basil inquired. 
 
 "Paul the cobbler." 
 
 "And at w^hat time is it supposed the murder was 
 committed V 
 
 "About sundown. The count was found at eight 
 o'clock, and the doctor said the wound must have bled 
 for tliree or four hours." 
 
 "Oh, Narka !" cried Marguerite, turning a shade 
 paler, "that must have been the shot we heard." She 
 stopped short, terrified by the expression on Narka's face ; 
 and glancing involuntarily toward Basil, she read an 
 answering horror in his eyes. 
 
 Sibyl and Gaston, who were trying to elicit further 
 details fi^om Vasili, had noticed nothing. A sudden 
 noise made them look quickly round. 
 
 Mai'guerite liad fainted. She fell forward, and must 
 have fallen to the ground if Basil had not caught her in 
 his arms. 
 
 "Poor child! No wonder she is overcome!" Sibyl 
 exclaimed, rushing to assist. 
 
 Basil carried the fainting girl to a divan, and laid her 
 gently down. 
 
 "You had better go away, both of you, and leave her 
 to us," Sibyl said. " It will be nothing." 
 
 The two gentlemen saw they could be of no use, and 
 went away, Gaston too much excited by the awful event 
 which had caused Marguerite's swoon to attach niucli 
 importance to so natural an accident.
 
 Narl-a. 41 
 
 The swoon lasted nearly an hour, in spite of Sibyl's 
 incessant application of restoratives and Narka's con- 
 stant friction of Marguerite's hands and feet. When at 
 last Marguerite opened her eyes and gave signs of re- 
 turning consciousness, Narka said: 
 
 "We had better let her sit up now. Bring a cush- 
 ion from the red sofa — a big one." Then, Sibyl having 
 moved away, she bent over Marguerite, and said, in a 
 whisper: " Don't let idle fears distui'b you, dear. Keep 
 perfect silence for a "while." 
 
 She raised her to a sitting position, Sibyl propped her 
 up tenderly, and then, at Nai-ka's suggestion, they left 
 her to recover herself a little. 
 
 Meantime Basil and Gaston had gone round to the 
 servants' hall to see Paul the cobbler, and hear the ghast- 
 ly story over again. 
 
 "Let us go down to the village and see Father Chris- 
 topher," said Gaston, when Paul had confirmed the few 
 details given by Vasili. "We shall hear if any one is 
 suspected of the murder, and if Larchoff was really con- 
 scious when the father saw him." 
 
 Basil seemed reluctant; he urged that the father could 
 not possibly have any more to tell than they had already 
 heard ; but Gaston was bent on it ; so they went. It was 
 a beautiful starlight night, but as a matter of course a 
 number of servants lighted lanterns as if it had been 
 pitch-dark, and accompanied the two gentlemen. M. de 
 Beaucrillon would have liked to talk with them, to hear 
 what they thought about the crime, Avhether their instinct 
 or information pointed with any suspicion to the mur- 
 derer; but he could not speak Russian, and none of them 
 spoke French, and Basil seemed too stunned to be willing 
 to play the interpreter. He let his companion keep up a 
 monologue without uttering a word.
 
 42 NarJca. 
 
 "I suppose these crimes are not frequent in tlie rural 
 districts in Russia." "The people in their hearts can- 
 not be sorry to be I'id of such a devil, and yet I dare say 
 they will not try to screen the murderer from the police." 
 "The Russian police are wonderfully clever, I believe, 
 but one only hears of them as political agents," etc. 
 
 Basil never opened his lips to any of these obviously 
 interrogative remarlcs, but when Gaston said something 
 about the pi'obable difficulty of finding direct evidence 
 to bring the criminal to justice, he retorted, with sudden 
 vehemence : 
 
 "Justice ! They will call the bullet that struck down 
 Larchoff justice. The man who fired it will not be a 
 criminal in the eyes of any man, or woman either, in the 
 country for a hundred miles round. They won't call 
 the deed murder; they will call it God's justice overtak- 
 ing the wicked." 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon had not expected to see Basil moved 
 by any feeling of pity for the wretched man whose hands 
 had been a scourge and a sword dealing pain and death 
 unmei'cifully to his people, but it shocked him a little to 
 hear Sibyl's brother speak in a tone of almost triumphant 
 approval of the bloody deed itself. He made no further 
 comment, and they walked on in silence to Father Chris- 
 topher's door. 
 
 The old i)riest had just returned from the dead man's 
 house; he was tlie only person who liad accompanied the 
 body thither from the peasant's cottage where it had first 
 been carried. No one else was willing to pay that tribute 
 of respect to Larchoif. 
 
 "You have heard the news?" said the father. 
 
 "Was he conscious when you got there, father?" 
 inquired M. dc Beaucrillon. 
 
 "I think lie was; I lioi^e he was. I questioned liim.
 
 JVarlca. 43 
 
 and made an act of faitli and contrition, and he pressed 
 my hand very distinctly, and made convulsive efforts to 
 speak. It was awful to see. I pronounced the absolu- 
 tion over him conditionally." 
 
 Basil gave a short, explosive laugh, that sounded hor- 
 rible in Gaston's ears. Father Christopher winced per- 
 ceptibly; he pulled his beretta forward, then pushed it 
 back. 
 
 "Is any one suspected of the murder?" inquired Gas- 
 ton. 
 
 "They are saying it was accidental. The forest has 
 been full of men on the lookout for the wolf, and they 
 think that Larchoff may have been shot by one of them 
 in mistake." 
 
 " Is that likely?" asked M. de Beauci-illon. 
 
 "It is possible." 
 
 There was a pause. " Only this morning," said Father 
 Christopher, breaking it," the unfortunate man met me, 
 and threatened to send me to Siberia for proselytizing. 
 He had begun by telling me of the escape he had had of 
 being killed by the wolf, riding home last night — how lie 
 had fired and hit him just in time. I didn't believe him. 
 Perhaps he was speaking the truth." 
 
 "If so, it was the first time it ever happened him," said 
 Basil. 
 
 "Well, he has gone before the judgment-seat," said 
 the father. " May God have mercy on him !" 
 
 "Mercy on Larchotf ! The devil owes him some, for 
 he did his work well." 
 
 Basil's handsome features were positively ugly with 
 the expression of hatred that passed over them. Father 
 Christopher had never seen such an expression on his 
 face before. It suddenly occurred to him that Sibyl had 
 more than once expressed uneasy suspicions about her
 
 44 JSfarJca. 
 
 brother having been lured into associations of some sort 
 with men who made crime and vengeance a part of their 
 political creed. Father Christopher had never attached 
 much importance to these fears ; he believed that Basil 
 was incapable of i^ractically committing himself to such 
 dark theories, though he might, partly from instinctive 
 hatred of the cruelties that had provoked them, partly 
 from a spirit of opposition, tallc as if he sympathized Avith 
 them. If the father had been alone with Basil he would 
 have challenged him then and there, and insisted on 
 knowing the truth; for though his old pupil was now a 
 man of four-and-twenty, Father Christopher still looked 
 upon him as a boy, and spoke to him with the frank bold- 
 ness of a master. 
 
 "The village is in a state of great excitement," he 
 remarked, wishing to divert M. de Beaucrillon's atten- 
 tion from Basil's strange demeanor; "there will be lit- 
 tle sleep in it to-night." 
 
 "I will go down and see Ivan Gorff," said Basil. 
 
 "You won't find him," said Father Christopher; " he 
 rode into X. this afternoon, and he had not returned an 
 hour ago; that zealous gossip Paul Avent there to tell of 
 the murder, and he heard that Mile. Sophie was ill; 
 the shock of the news brought on a nervous attack." 
 
 "No wonder," said M. de Beaucrillon. "My sister 
 fainted when she heard of it. We left her insensible 
 when we came away." 
 
 They wished Father Christopher good-night, and went 
 back to the castle.
 
 Narha. 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Marguerite was very ill during the night. In tlie 
 morning she sent to say she Avould not come down to 
 breakfast. Sibyl went at once to her room. 
 
 "My poor darling," she said, laying her cool cheek 
 against Marguerite's hot face, "to think of our bringing 
 you all this way to frighten you into illness with wolves 
 and murders!" 
 
 Marguerite answered with a faint smile, and Sibyl, 
 seeing that the girl was very nervous, and best left quiet 
 and alone, kissed her and came away, and sent for the 
 doctor. 
 
 Narka had gone out early to see her mother, avIio was 
 sure to have heard of the murder, and likely, in her 
 Aveak state of health, to be seriously affected by the 
 shock. 
 
 Mrs. Larik was in truth greatly excited. "So God's 
 vengeance has overtaken the man who murdered my 
 husband and my boj^ !" she exclaimed, her face quivering. 
 "Ah! the Lord God swore to avenge the widow and the 
 orphan ; the Lord God has kept His word !" 
 
 "The vengeance can't help us, or give back the dead," 
 replied Narka. "Don't rejoice in it, mother; it can't 
 help us." 
 
 But Mrs. Larik was not magnanimous enough to take 
 this negative view of the event. She was a kindly soul ; 
 she would not have crushed a worm; but she was an 
 injui'ed woman, made a widow and sonless by Larchoff 
 and his father, and it was not in human nature that 
 she should not feel a thrill of satisfaction at this deed of
 
 46 Narka. 
 
 vengeance wrouglit upon the enemy who had crushed 
 the joy out of her life. 
 
 Narka let her talk on awliile, but seeing that she was 
 exciting herself ovei-much, she said, irrelevantly, "Mar- 
 guerite wanted to come and see you yesterday; do you 
 think you would be able to see her to-day?" 
 
 "No, no; not to-day. My pains are sure to be very 
 bad to-day. You know they are always worse when 
 my mind is worried." 
 
 " I thought it might help you to forget the pains and 
 the worry a minute. She is \gxj merry and pleasant, 
 and very nice to me." 
 
 " In a few days, when I have got over it a bit, but not 
 to-day, not to-day. I can't think how you could ask 
 me such an unreasonable thing, Narka, as to see a 
 stranger to-day." 
 
 "Then I shall make her wait, little mother; there is 
 no hurry," said Narka, soothingly; and she arranged 
 the pillows, and fussed about the nervous, irritable inva- 
 lid, and talked of household matters, and did what she 
 could to cheer her and turn her mind to practical inter- 
 ests. Narka was not the same being with her mother 
 and with the rest of the world ; every tone, every touch, 
 was full of deprecating tenderness; her strength became 
 as the weakness of a little cliild wlven she was nursing 
 and caressing and liumoring the peevish, loving, broken- 
 spirited widow who had only her left to care for. When 
 M. de Beaucrillon said to Sibyl, "Your Narka is too 
 gi'and and cold for me; she is not human enough; she 
 is like a goddess made out of marble and gold," Sibyl 
 replied, "If you saw her with her mother you would 
 not say that." 
 
 They were at breakfast when Narka got back to the 
 castle. She had scarcely sat down when a servant came
 
 JVcirka. 47 
 
 in to say that Pakol Pasgoiroiwitch, the Stauovors clerk, 
 was outside, wanting to speak to Prince Basil. 
 
 "Let the dog wait," was Basil's contemptuous rei^ly. 
 "Does he think I am going to get uj) from my breakfast 
 to attend to him ?" 
 
 The servant looked as if he had something he wished 
 to say — something that would explain ; but after a sec- 
 ond's hesitation he decided not to say it, and withdrew. 
 He had hardly closed the door when Basil rose impul- 
 sively and went out after him. Pakol Pasgoiroiwitch 
 was standing in the hall ; the door was ajar, and the 
 voices were audible in the breakfast-room. Some words 
 reached Sibyl and Narka which made them change color 
 and start. Before they had time to exchange a w^ord, 
 Basil flung the door open and came back, followed by 
 Pakol Pasgoiroiwitch. 
 
 Basil looked at the man as if ordering him to speak. 
 
 "The murderer has been discovered," said Pakol 
 Pasgoiroiwitch, with a stolid, neutral face, like a mask. 
 
 An exclamation of impatient curiosity came from the 
 two ladies. 
 
 "Father Christopher is the man who committed it!'' 
 
 Sibyl almost screamed, and after staring blankly at the 
 messenger, dropped into her seat. Narka stood as if 
 turned to stone. 
 
 "What is it ?" inquired M. de Beaucrillon, curious and 
 impatient. 
 
 Basil explained. The man went on to deliver his 
 message, looking all the while as unmoved as a Avooden 
 figure might have done. Information had reached the 
 authorities that morning; the father's gun was found 
 loaded in the sacristy, with one chamber empty; the 
 father had been seen hurrying from the forest at the 
 time of the murder: all this evidence was substantiated.
 
 48 Narha. 
 
 " Good heavens!" exclaimed M. de Beaucrillon, when 
 it liad been translated to him ; "but you could not hang 
 a dog- on such evidence." 
 
 "Not in France," retorted Basil; "but we are in 
 Russia, and the Stanovoi thinks Father Christopher is 
 guilty." 
 
 " He thinks nothing of the sort. It's his business to 
 think everybody guilty till he finds out who is. Why 
 doesn't he suspect you and me? He would find both 
 our rifles with a couple of chambei'S empty. Bon Dieu ! 
 The thing is beyond belief ; it is monstrous." 
 
 "Father Christopher!" Sibyl repeated, in a tone of 
 stupefied amazement. 
 
 "Have they arrested him ?" asked Narka, who had re- 
 mained rooted to the spot where she heard the news. 
 
 "Yes; about an hour ago." 
 
 "You can go," said Basil, with haughty abruptness. 
 
 The man bowed to his knees, and withdrew. 
 
 Everybody seemed struck dumb for a moment after 
 the door had closed. Then Basil exploded in a muttered 
 curse, and walked to the window. 
 
 "What motive can any one have had in getting up 
 such a preposterous story ?" asked M. de Beaucrillon. 
 
 "Oh ! the motive is not far to seek," said Sibyl. "The 
 father is hated by the Stanovoi, as he was by Larchoff ; 
 both have been pui*suing him unrelentingly ever since 
 my mother's death, trying to entrap him into something 
 that would give them a hold upon him; they have plot- 
 ted late and early to convict him of proselytizing, of 
 being connected with the revolutionists. It was only 
 the fear of my father's influence at St. Petersburg that 
 held them at all in check, or they would have sent him 
 to Siberia or the gallows long since. The Stanovoi" 
 has seized on Larchoff's murder now to serve his hate
 
 JVarka. 49 
 
 of the futliei", aud tliey will buy witnesses to sweai* to his 
 guilt." 
 
 "We "will outbid them; we will do it if it costs every 
 ruble in our possession and every acre of our land," 
 cried Basil, coming up to her, both his hands clinched, 
 his countenance set. 
 
 " If papa were at home !" exclaimed Sibyl, excitedly. 
 
 " Thank Heaven he is not !" retorted Basil. "He will 
 serve us infinitely better at St. Petersburg. I must go 
 to him immediately. We will do what is to be done 
 there, and then my father will come home and deal with 
 the business here." 
 
 "Dear Basil, that is the best plan. But meantime 
 they will have carried Father Christopher to prison at X. 
 Do you think the Stanovoi will let you see him at the 
 guard-house before he goes ? It would be everything if 
 you could see him and tell him to be of good cheer." 
 
 "He is sure to be that, whatever befalls. I don't 
 think they would let me see him." 
 
 "Oh, try, Basil, try !" said Narka, in a tone of entreaty 
 that was full of anguish. "Or if I went? Perhaps 
 they would make less difficulty about letting me in?" 
 
 Basil seemed pulled in different directions; but after 
 a moment's hesitation he said, "I will go myself," and 
 went out of the room. 
 
 "Would my going help?" asked M. de Beaucrillon, 
 
 "No; it would hinder, more likely,"said Sibyl. "Oh, 
 Nai'ka," she cried, moving rapidly to and fro and wring- 
 ing her hands, "if they should find witnesses to swear 
 away his life I" She burst into tears. 
 
 "They are sure to find them," Narka replied, in a level 
 undertone. 
 
 Sibyl knew what a strength of passionate feeling there 
 was beneath the tense, calm manner, but M. de Beaucril- 
 4
 
 50 JVarka. 
 
 Ion did not, and the girl's apparent insensibility revolted 
 liim. 
 
 The Stanovoi politel}^ but positively refused to let 
 Basil see the father. He was XDi'ofuse in his expressions 
 of regret at not being able to obey his Excellency's desire, 
 but he had himself received the strictest orders not to let 
 any one near the x^risonei', w^ho was to be conveyed next 
 day to X. 
 
 "And who has invented this precious lie against 
 him ?" 
 
 " Prince, I am here again under orders of secrecy, and 
 dare not reveal tlie names of the witnesses." 
 
 "There are several, then ? I should not have thought 
 there was one man in the entire district who would have 
 lied against Father Christopher." 
 
 "There is not a man in the district, Excellency, who 
 does not know that Father Christopher hated Count 
 Larchoff." 
 
 " There is not a man, woman, or child in the district 
 who did not hate Lai'choflP. If that be a proof, you can 
 convict every muzhik on the land of the murder." 
 
 "We can't convict tliem of a more heinous crime 
 still, that of poisoning the souls of the Czar's subjects by 
 drawing tliem away from the orthodox faith, as Fathei* 
 Christopher has been of late years repeatedly charged 
 with doing." 
 
 "By Avhom was ho charged with it? By Larchoff, 
 who never could prove it in a single instance." 
 
 " It will be proved now." 
 
 "What! Is Larchoff coming back from hell to do it? 
 Mind what you are about. I Avarn you the devil may 
 overshoot his mark." 
 
 With this threat, emphasized by his uplifted stick, 
 Basil turned his back on the iStanovoi and walked out.
 
 JVarka. 5 1 
 
 Ivan Goi'ff had seen him in the distance, and was 
 waiting' outside the Mayor's house. They clasped hands. 
 
 " Tliis is a pretty business," said Ivan. 
 
 "Whose doing can it be ?" said Basil, as if questioning 
 himself. 
 
 " You don't believe it can have been accidental ?" 
 
 " I mean this arrest of Father Christopher." 
 
 "The Stanovoi's, of course. Who else had any inter- 
 est in getting him out of the way? But the Prince will 
 be too strong for him. There is no likelihood of their 
 prevailing against the Prince ?" 
 
 "There's always a likelihood of lies prevailing." 
 
 They went on some way without further speech. 
 Ivan saw that Basil was desperately alarmed, and 
 though he thought he overestimated the danger to Fa- 
 ther Christopher, he knew his friend too well to say so, 
 at this crisis at least. Basil was by nature and habit 
 masterful and impatient of opposition; to contradict 
 him would only serve to exasperate his imperious tcm- 
 l)cr, and provoke one of those outbui-sts of violence 
 which betrayed the weak point in his character, the lack 
 of that strength which controls self, and is the surest 
 test of power in controlling others. 
 
 So Ivan walked on, his loose, shuffling step keeping 
 pace irregularly with the vigorous stride of his compan- 
 ion. When they reached the park gate, he stood. " I 
 won't go in with you," he said; "I have to go on to 
 X. this afternoon. Sophie is very ill." 
 
 "Oh! I'm very sorry to hear that," said Basil, cor- 
 dially. " I hope it's only the effect of the shock to her 
 nerves ?'' 
 
 "The doctor says so; but he says she is on the brink 
 of a nervous fever. I must take he«r for a change as 
 soon as possible. I think I shall carry her off to
 
 52 Ncirka. 
 
 Odessa in a day or two. We have an old aunt there 
 who will take care of her. She wants to he taken care 
 of." 
 
 "She does," replied Basil. "They all do, those young 
 girls; they ought all to have mothers to look after them. 
 Well, present my best respects to Mademoiselle Sophie. 
 She may have left before I return. By-the-way, I did 
 not tell you: I am going to start off to St. Petersburg. 
 Nobody must know ; I will say I am going to the dentist 
 at X., and that I may be obliged to stay the night there. 
 This will give me forty-eight hours' start of these blood- 
 liounds. A good deal depends on our being first in the 
 field at St. Petersburg. It is a mercy my father has 
 kej)t his footing at court. We have grumbled because 
 he squandered so much money there, but now we are 
 thankful for it." 
 
 "Yes, it is an ill wind that blows nobody good," re- 
 plied Ivan.
 
 Nar/i-a. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The doctor found Marguerite alarmingly feverish ; she 
 seemed on the brink of a serious illness; for some days 
 he could not say liow it would turn. Narka longed to 
 take possession of her, to be quite alone with her. If 
 delirium came on, there was the danger of revelations 
 which both she and Mai'guerite dreaded. The conscious- 
 ness of a secret between them — a terrible fear, which, for 
 being unexpressed, was none the less distinctly under- 
 stood by both — had suddenly drawn the two girls to- 
 gether in a bond of no common sympathy, and Mar- 
 guerite would have been happier to feel herself in Narka's 
 safe-keeping ; but Sibyl had at once entered on the duties 
 of nurse as hers by riglit, and was constantly by her bed- 
 side. 
 
 Narka had not been alone with Basil for a moment 
 since the announcement of the murder, and she had not 
 even seen him since the news of Father Christopher's 
 arrest. Of late her relationship with Basil had been 
 vindergoing a change. Imperceptibly the old free un- 
 consciousness had been slipping from her, and she had 
 felt creeping over her that kind of embarrassing sensi- 
 tiveness that manifests itself in shyness; she felt, or she 
 fancied, that her manner was not the same — free, direct, 
 and simple — and the dread that Basil should notice the 
 change made her shrink from being alone with him. 
 But Basil noticed nothing. He was as unrestrained as 
 ever in his brotherly familiarity. It had long been his 
 habit to make a confidante — to a certain point — of
 
 54 NarJca. 
 
 Narka. He talked to her more unreservedly tlian to any- 
 one else. He could denounce things to Nai-ka, he could 
 swear at the Czar, he could complain of his father's 
 extravagance and absenteeism, more freely to her than 
 to Sibyl; he had been thrown more entirely on Narka 
 for this kind of sympathy since Sibyl's marriage, and lie 
 had been annoyed lately at the difficulty he found in 
 getting hold of her for confidential talks; she seemed 
 to be always taken up with Sibyl, busy about some- 
 thing; but it never occurred to him that she was fight- 
 ing shy of him. 
 
 This morning Narka had been wanting to meet him ; 
 she dreaded the interview, but some force was impelling 
 her to seek it; she felt that she and Basil were in closer 
 affinity at this moment than they had ever been before 
 — drawn into closer confidence than they had ever been 
 in childhood, when every little joy and sorrow was com- 
 mon, when they bent over the same lesson, and conned 
 the same story, and wandered together through the forest 
 birdnesting ; whatever spell might come between them, 
 it was to her that Basil was looking now for sympathy, 
 and that silent understanding which was as necessary 
 to his morbid sensitiveness as food to his body. She 
 liad been vip and down stairs a dozen times within an 
 liour, now fancying that she heard his steps ringiiig 
 across the liall, then that she heard the door of his room 
 close or open ; her heart leaped every time she thought 
 he was going to appear, and sank again when the hope, 
 or the dread, she could hardly say which, died away. 
 She was crossing the broad landing at the head of the 
 wide oaken stairs when Basil did finally appear in the 
 hall below, and, seeing her, turned from his piirpose 
 of entering the drawing-room, and bounded up the stairs. 
 
 "It was just you that I wanted to see," he said.
 
 Ncirka. 55 
 
 "Come in here a minute." He opened the door of his 
 room, the room lie was xileased to call his study, and 
 Narka went in with him. He closed the door, and then 
 turned to her. "What is the matter with Marguerite ?" 
 he said. 
 
 Narka could hardly believe her ears: the question 
 "was like a glass of cold water dashed into her face. 
 
 " The doctor says her nerves have received a shock." 
 
 "We did not want him to tell us that," Basil retorted, 
 impatiently. " Does he say it is likely to be serious ?" 
 
 "He hopes not; but she must be kept very quiet. 
 Sibyl is with her." 
 
 Basil turned brusquely away and walked to the win- 
 dow. 
 
 So this was what was uppermost in Ids thoughts, this 
 was his pai-amount preoccupation when they were all 
 waiting with bated breath to know the fate of Father 
 Christopher, charged with a crime that was punishable 
 by death I 
 
 Basil came back as brusquely as he had turned away. 
 
 "Narka, there is no time to be lost. I am going to 
 start at once for St. Petersbiu'g. No one must know it 
 except ourselves. Ivan is the only person I have told." 
 
 "Ah!.... Ivan is sure to be discreet," said Narka, 
 "with an imperceptible note of interi'ogation in her voice. 
 
 "Ivan discreet? Where I am concerned? Ivan 
 Avould be flayed alive to save me fi'om a toothache. You 
 and Sibyl don't do Ivan justice; he is the best fellow 
 living. I wish you would both try arid like him better." 
 
 "We do like him," said Narka; "andl know he is de- 
 voted to you; but when secrecy is such a matter of life 
 and death one dreads the very grass hearing .... I didn't 
 mean to doubt his loyalty. What hour do you leave ? 
 Have vou ordered the britzska ?"
 
 56 Nctrka. 
 
 "No. I will make Vasili pack up what I want to take 
 with, me, and then order it." He put out his hand to the 
 bell. 
 
 "Don't ring," said Narka, arresting him; "I will 
 put up your things." 
 
 The door of his bedroom adjoined his study, and 
 stood open; she passed in, and proceeded with sisterly 
 indiscretion to open the drawers and fill the travelling 
 valise that was always ready to hand for these sudden 
 emergencies. Departures for distant journeys at a 
 moment's notice were so common an incident in Basil's 
 practice that his present expedition would probably 
 have excited no sui'prise either in the castle or the vil- 
 lage ; it was conscience that was making a coward of him. 
 He made no demur to Narka's offer, but went to his 
 writing-table and began putting away and destroying 
 some letters and papers. 
 
 Presently he came into the bedroom, and standing 
 over Narka, who was on her knees laboring at the 
 valise, he said: "You were down in the village this 
 morning; what do they say ? Do they think it was an 
 accident ?" 
 
 "No, they don't," she answered, without looking up. 
 
 "Do they suspect who did it ?" 
 
 "I did not hear; but if they knew, the secret would 
 be safe with them." 
 
 "What! even if they believed it to have been deliber- 
 ate murder ?'' 
 
 "They don't call it murder, I imagine. They had 
 come to look on Larchoff as more dangerous than any 
 wild beast; his death is no more a murder to them than 
 the killing of a wolf or a man-eating bear." 
 
 After a silence Basil said, "And you agree with them ?" 
 
 Narka did not answer at once; she finished what she
 
 Narka. 51 
 
 was doing, and then stood up. "And if I did agree 
 with them ?" she said, her hlue-Wack ej'cs flasliing with 
 the passion that vibrated in her voice — "if I did agree 
 with them ? Do you expect me to call down vengeance 
 on the man who rid the world of Larchoflf ? If you do, 
 you expect more than God in heaven expects of me." 
 
 Basil positively quailed before the strength of the pas- 
 sion that was making her tremble ; yet he could not look 
 away, or even drop his lids: her eyes held him with an 
 irresistible fascination, and compelled his to meet them. 
 
 "You would acquit the man who committed that 
 murder ?" he asked. 
 
 "I would; I do. It is no murder in the sight of 
 God." 
 
 " Would you— can you fancy a woman marrying the 
 man who did it ?"' Ilis voice dropped almost to a whisper. 
 
 " If she had loved him before, why not ?" 
 
 "You think he might marry her, then, without con- 
 fessing he had done it ?" 
 
 "That would be harder to forgive, but if he loved her 
 he would trust her love, and not fear to tell her the truth 
 beforehand." Her voice had grown tremulous and soft 
 as a caress. 
 
 Both were silent. Thei'e was a troubled consciousness 
 in his eyes ; in hers a wistful questioning. Basil was go- 
 ing to speak, but he checked himself and turned away. 
 A few minutes later he was on the road to X. 
 
 Narka contrived to get possession of Marguerite next 
 day. She owed this as much to M. de Beaucrillon as 
 to her own manoeuvring. He was bored to such an 
 extent that it took all Sibyl's tact and ability to keep him 
 quiet. She was almost sorry that Marguerite was not 
 ill enough to frighten him a little. Tliis would have 
 been a stimulant, and kept him at least from yawning
 
 58 Narha. 
 
 all (lay long. But unfortunately for Sibyl he slirewdly 
 suspected, what the doctor had said, that the best thing 
 for Marguerite would be to carry her back at once to 
 France. Poor Sibyl, with her hands full, had no time to 
 spare in diverting him, but she contrived to make her 
 many occupations help a little in that direction. Tliere 
 were scores of letters to be Avritten, invited guests had 
 to be put off, and all the preparations for the intended 
 festivities to be countemnanded, not temporarily, as she 
 liad thought when the murdei* had thrown a bombshell 
 into the gay programme, but definitely. She begged 
 Gaston to help her whenever French would do instead 
 of Russian, and he was too well bred not to oblige a lady, 
 though she was his wife. But these little services were 
 as pebbles thrown into the water: they stirred its sur- 
 face for a moment, but the ripples passed away, and 
 left it as dead a calm as before. 
 
 "Ma chere amie," he protested, "tlie dulness of 
 your native land is sublime. In no other country 
 under heaven do people yawn as they do in Russia. 
 The ennui is beyond any name in any language. I 
 feel as if I were being chloroformed." 
 
 "Dear! oh dear! what an unreasonable being a man 
 is!" Sibyl replied, with a sigh of despair. "In three 
 Aveeks you have had a wolf come down and howl for 
 you, then a murder, and you complain of being chloro- 
 formed !" 
 
 "These shocks wake one up with a start, but they 
 don't keep one awake. There is absolutely nothing to 
 do. If tliere were even a neighbor with a pretty wife to 
 make love to, that Avould be wrong ? Well, at any rate, 
 it would be amusing; but I can't even try to make you 
 jealous. Seigneur Dieu ! what a country !" 
 
 Sibyl admitted it was a hard case, but she appealed to
 
 Narka. 59 
 
 his generosity, liis kindness, to all liis virtues in turn, 
 and adjured him to be patient. 
 
 ''I wish Basil had thought of taking Gaston witli 
 him," she said to Narka the tliird morning after her 
 brother's departure. "It would have amused him to 
 see St. Petersburg, and what a relief it would have been 
 to vis !'' 
 
 " I should not care to give M. de Beaucrillon such an 
 opportunity of comparing our criminal law with that 
 of his own country," said Narka; "but now that you 
 ai'e a French woman you are not so sensitive in that re- 
 spect as when you were a Russian." 
 
 "I wisli, Narka, you would call Gaston by his Chris- 
 tian name," said Sibyl, with clever irrelevance; "it 
 sounds ridiculous to hear you saying 'Monsieur deBeau- 
 crillon.' If you had a husband I should call him by his 
 name, and expect him to call me by mine." 
 
 Narka's face beamed with one of her rare beautiful 
 smiles. She looked at Sibyl with a glance of adoring 
 admiralion. 
 
 "Yes," continued Sibyl, with a pretty pout, "you are 
 a disappointment to me, both of you — a most unsatisfac- 
 tory pair of brother and sister." 
 
 The grace of the reproach was one of those delicate 
 touches with which Sibyl was continually thrilling Nar- 
 ka's tenderness to the heart. Yet these touches in some 
 indescribable way brought home to her, as no external 
 conditions of rank could do, the wide gulf which the ac- 
 cident of birth and race had sunk between tliem, and 
 which Sibyl, with instinctive delicacy, bridged over, al- 
 ways seeming unconscious of any social difference be- 
 tween herself and her low-born sistei*. 
 
 During these days of dreary ennui to Gaston and 
 bi-eathless anxiety to the other members of the family,
 
 60 NarJca. 
 
 Narka was on the watcli to avoid being alone with Sibyl. 
 Her own constant attendance on Marguerite and 
 Sibyl's multitude of occupations made this compara- 
 tively easy, but occasionally they were thi'own together 
 en tete-a-tete for a little while, and then, let Narka do 
 what she would, the conversation fell on the murder. 
 
 Sibyl would not admit for a moment that the crime 
 could be fastened on Father Christopher. 
 
 "I wonder what Ivan Gorff thinks about it?" she said 
 one morning when M. de Beaucrillon had left the break- 
 fast table. "He ought to be back now. I wonder how 
 Sophie is ? I am sorry he carried her off in such a 
 hurry, without letting us know she was so ill. I should 
 have liked to see her; but I fancy they have been both a 
 little shy with us all here since that kind of overture of 
 my father's about Sophie which Basil did not follow up. 
 It was a mistake his speaking so soon. Not that I think 
 there was really much likelihood of Basil ever making 
 up his mind to ask Sophie. What a mercy my father is 
 on the spot to work against the peoi)le here ! We shall 
 never complain again of his being such an absentee. 
 It is everything now liis being well at court." 
 
 "Yes; if that obtains justice for Father Christopher, 
 we need never complain," assented Narka; "but, Sibyl, 
 what a heinous thing it is that the life of an innocent 
 man should hang on such a chance !" 
 
 " It is never a cliance when we can reach the Emperor," 
 Sibyl replied ; "that is tlie happiness of being under one 
 whose authoi'ity is supreme; there is no twisting of the 
 law, no plotting or bribing, tliat can overrule his will." 
 
 "But if one can't reach him in time, there is no 
 redress against the plotting and the bribing." 
 
 Sibyl remembered how bitterly Narka had learned tliis 
 evil side of the Emperor's i>aternal government, and re-
 
 JViO'ka. G 1 
 
 grctted her iucousiderate remark. M. de Beaucrillon's 
 entrance "was opportune to them both. Narka left him 
 to Sibyl, and went up to Marguerite. The feverish symjj- 
 toms had entirely disappeared, but bright little Margue- 
 rite was as weak as a child, and looked more wan and 
 worn than so short an illness seemed to justify. The 
 few days' suffering had beautified her, as such accidents 
 are apt to do in early youth ; her complexion was as clear 
 as wax, and her brown eyes had borrowed a soft lustre 
 that was more fascinating in its way than their usual 
 saucy brightness. Poor child ! no wonder the brightness 
 was veiled ! those innocent eyes had been gazing through 
 wide-open summer windoAvs at the joyous pageant of 
 life, and lo! there suddenly passed before her a spectacle 
 of horror, a vision of sin and murder. Narka continued 
 to devote herself to Marguerite, though there was now 
 no necessitj^ for constant attendance. No confidences 
 had passed between them, but she felt that Marguerite 
 was clinging to her as the sinking man clings to the 
 swimmer. 
 
 "Sibyl was saying she thought you might venture 
 on a little drive to-da}-, dear ?'' remarked Narka. 
 
 "Oh no; I don't feel up to it," Marguerite replied; 
 "my head swims still when I Avalk across the room; 
 to-morrow perhaps I shall feel inclined, but not to-day." 
 
 Narka stood looking down at the small figure reclining 
 on the couch; it looked half as small again, swallowed 
 up under an enormous fur rug. 
 
 "I will let you have your way about it this once 
 more," she said; "but it is the last time. To-morrow, 
 if you won't come of your own sweet will, I will get 
 M. de Beaucrillon to carr^^ you. You will never get a 
 bit of strength, or a patch of color into your cheeks, until 
 you get some fresh air."
 
 62 Mirka. 
 
 "Tlie color will come back soon enough, don't be 
 afraid," Marguerite said, with a little pretence at merri- 
 ment. "Are you going to drive ?" 
 
 "No; I am going to walk; I am going down to my 
 mother for an hour." 
 
 "Tliat dear Tante Nathalie; when shall I see her?" 
 said Marguerite, taking Narka's hand that hung down by 
 her side. "How good it is of her to spare you to us 
 so long! You have been nursing me when you ought 
 to have been with her. How she must miss you !" 
 
 "Dear mother" — Narka's eyes grew tender in an 
 instant — " but she is glad to let me be with Sibyl." 
 
 "You do love Sibyl." 
 
 "Yes, I do love Sibyl," Narka answered, with hearty 
 emphasis. 
 
 Marguerite felt at that moment that she loved Narka. 
 Something in the expression of her uplifted face, per- 
 haps, expressed this avowal, for Narka bent down and 
 kissed her on the forehead. 
 
 At the park gate Narka met Ivan Gorff. " I thought 
 you were gone to Odessa?" she said, in surprise. 
 
 "I have come back on purpose to see you. I have 
 something of importance to tell you." 
 
 "Ah! about the father?" 
 
 "No; about Basil. He must escape across the fron- 
 tier as quickly as possible." 
 
 Narka stood, partly from sheer inability to go on 
 walking, and partly that she might look at Ivan, and 
 read in his face what she had not the coui-age to ask. 
 
 Ivan stood also, but he only repeated: "He must 
 escape at once. I have sent a messenger on the chance 
 of meeting him at St. Petersburg, but I expect he is on 
 liis way home by tliis, and the messenger will miss him. 
 Perhaps it is as well ; there will be less hurry in arresting
 
 JSfarka. 63 
 
 liim here. They will have to be cautious, and catch 
 him quietly." 
 
 "What has happened V Narka said, when she had re- 
 covered her self-command sufficiently to speak and walk 
 on. 
 
 "Something has been found amongst Lai'choff's jia- 
 pers that compromises him; he is denounced as impli- 
 cated in a plot to assassinate the Emperor." 
 
 Narka uttered something inarticulate. "I must not 
 ask how you came by this knowledge V she said. 
 
 "You may ask, but I may not tell," he replied, curtly. 
 
 " The warrant is not yet here for his arrest ?" 
 
 "No; but it will probably be here to-night. When 
 do you expect Basil ?" 
 
 "At any moment. He has not announced the day, 
 but I have an idea he will be back to-morrow." 
 
 Tliey went on a little without speaking. Then Narka 
 said: " And Father Christopher ? Have you heard any- 
 thing ? Is there any chance of Basil bringing back the 
 order for his release ?" 
 
 Ivan was shuffling on Avith his hands thrust deep into 
 the pockets of his furred overcoat. At this question of 
 Narka's he lifted his head, held it skyward a moment, and 
 then dropped it heavily on his breast; the gesture ex- 
 pressed absolute hopelessness. 
 
 "Yet the Prince has great influence? Sibyl seems 
 certain he will prevail." 
 
 But Ivan remained stolidly unresponsive, while a look 
 as of impatient contempt crossed liis face. 
 
 "Oh, surely something may be done!" Narka cried. 
 "Is there nothing to be attempted here? Would not 
 the people come with us in a body to X., and petition 
 the Isprawnic ? Sibyl would come at our head. Or 
 pci'liaps M. de Beaucrillon, as a foreigner, might have
 
 04 JVcD'ka. 
 
 a chance of being lieard if lie interfered. To think 
 that we should stand by and not lift a finger to rescue 
 the dear old father is too horrible !" 
 
 Ivan walked on, his eyes still staring before him. At 
 last he said, "There is only one thing that could be of 
 the least use — if we could find the man who committed 
 the murder, and give him up to justice." 
 
 Narka felt as if some one had clutched her by the 
 throat. Tlie ground seemed to be moving under her feet. 
 She kept walking on as if urged by some mechanical 
 force. For her life she could not have stopped ; if slie 
 had stopped, she must have screamed. Neither of them 
 spoke another word until they came to a point where 
 the roads crossed. Then Narka said, "I am going this 
 way." 
 
 Ivan took the remark for a dismissal, and without 
 further ceremony parted from her, going on to the vil- 
 lage, w^hile she took the road to X.
 
 Narka. 65 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Narka was no longei* in a mood to go to her mother 
 after this. It would have been impossible to keep the 
 absolute secrecy that was necessary ; she could command 
 the silence of her tongue — that was always easy to her — 
 but she could not insure the silence of her face, nor pre- 
 vent the keen ej'es of the mother from reading- on its 
 troubled features the fact that something was agitating 
 lier. Many a time within the last few days Narka had 
 felt thankful that she was staying at the castle, and 
 that Marguerite's illness gave her a plausible excuse for 
 not going home to be with Madame Larik during her lit- 
 tle attack of rheumatism. It would have been almost 
 beyond her powers of self-control to sit all day Avith a 
 calm countenance, cheering up her mother, reassuring 
 her perpetual apprehensions, answering her endless con- 
 jectures, contradicting her prophecies, and belying in 
 words the terrors that filled her own heart. It would 
 often have been a relief at this moment — an unspeakable 
 relief— if she could have spoken out to anybody, to an 
 idiot, to a dumb dog, to any living thing; it would have 
 been a relief if she could have shrieked out to the trees; 
 but she might not indulge even in this solace; there 
 were peasants about in the fields ; they Avould hear her, 
 and think she had gone suddenly mad. 
 
 She walked on at a quick pace, and had gone some way 
 on the road, when there broke on the stillness the sound 
 of bells tinkling in the distance. Narka stood still and 
 listened till she heard them nearing distinctlv. Could
 
 66 JVarka. 
 
 it be Basil returning ? She held her breath in expecta- 
 tion; but the suspense did not last long. There came 
 quickly in sight a britzska, in which she recognized the 
 Prince's notary, M. Perrow. He pulled up the moment 
 he saw her, and jumping out, adv^anced with a low bow. 
 The bow was so low that it set Narka wondering. 
 
 "This is a lucky chance for me, mademoiselle," said 
 the notary, again bowing. "I came in to seek the 
 honor of an interview with you. May I join you now, 
 or shall I accompany you to Madame Larik's house ?" 
 
 "My mother is not very well; I pi'efer to talk with 
 you here," replied Narka, her surprise increasing to 
 amazement. 
 
 "It is not often one has the good fortune to be the 
 bearer of good news," began M. Perrow, facetiously, 
 "and I congratulate my.self on being so privileged." 
 
 " Good news ! Oh, thank God !" cried Narka; " he is 
 out ? he is free ?" 
 
 "Excuse me: my news has nothing to do with that 
 sad business. I come to announce the death of your 
 mother's respected relative Dr. Schwartzel, and to in- 
 form you that he has bequeathed to you, to you i)ersonal- 
 ly and solely, a legacy of fifty thousand rubles. The 
 money has been paid into our hands." 
 
 Narka said "Oh!" and walked on. 
 
 "We are so full of this dreadful business," she ob- 
 served, presently, " that it seems as if nothing important 
 could happen except in connection with it." 
 
 "That's natural. Still, life goes on, and it is a good 
 thing to inherit. The money was paid in only this 
 morning by the banker of the late Dr. Schwartzel: you 
 see, I have lost no time in letting you know." 
 
 "I thank you." 
 
 "It is desirable that the money should be invested
 
 Narha. 67 
 
 without delay. The sooner it is placed, the soonei- it will 
 bring in interest. I wait your orders on this head." 
 And he forthwith launched into a statement of the 
 various kinds of stock, home and foreign, that he ven- 
 tured to recommend as safe and profitable. 
 
 Narka let him run on, but she hardly heard what he 
 Avas saying; she was not in a frame of mind to enter on 
 the subject of railways that paid high w^ith risk, and 
 government bonds that paid low without risk. She 
 requested M. Perrow to let the money remain in his safe 
 for a few days, until she should have considered the 
 matter and taken advice, when she would communicate 
 with him The notary was a trifle disappointed, but he 
 felt that Mademoiselle Narlca Larik was a person who 
 knew how to assume at once the new position in which 
 her suddenly acquired fortune placed her, and this in- 
 spired him with additional respect for her. He took his 
 dismissal with politeness, got into his britzska, and drove 
 away. 
 
 Narka watched the britzska out of sight, and it almost 
 seemed as if its coming and going had been a dream. A 
 week ago this legacy would have been the realization 
 of the cherished dream of her life; it would have repre- 
 sented the fulfilment of all that her poor mother had 
 longed for — independence for her child, and comfort and 
 ease for them both. They had wanted for nothing, 
 thanks to Prince Zorokoff's generosity and Sibyl's lov- 
 ing-kindness, but both mother and daughter had a spirit 
 that chafed under the burden of such obligations, and 
 to be free from these, to be independent of pecuniary 
 help, was their greatest desire. Then Narka longed 
 to take her mother to those healing springs in her native 
 Germany, and after that to travel and see some of the 
 "beautiful places that Basil told her about, and that her
 
 G8 JVcirka. 
 
 own imagination had x>ictured to lier out of books. The 
 tragedy of her father's and her bi'other's death had fallen 
 like a deadly blight on her youth, and crushed the nat- 
 ural desire of her age for amusement. She had never 
 shared the common delight of girlhood in innocent gay- 
 ety and dress and dancing; those springs were broken ; 
 but perhaps on that very account her desire for other 
 enjoyments had developed more strongly. She longed 
 to escape from the scenes of her life's great sorrow, as 
 if this flight of the body must in some degree carry her 
 spirit away from its pain; while the intellectual hunger 
 of a healthy mind incited her curiosity to visit new 
 places and see new phases of life. Tbe long Avinter 
 evenings had many and many a time been shortened to 
 herself and her mother by dreams and plans that were 
 to be carried out when old Cousin Schwartzel died and 
 left them the independence he had promised on hearing 
 of Larik's exile and their consequent destitution. And 
 now the promise had been fulfilled, the fairy had come 
 to their door with the purse and the seven-leagued boots, 
 and Narka could not even feel glad. If the money could 
 serve to rescue Father Christopher and get Basil safe 
 out of Russia, how joyfully would she have j)aid it away, 
 and renounced her day-dreams forever ! 
 
 She liad walked a long way — so long, that even her 
 clastic young limbs recalled her to the fact that they had 
 to carry her back. She made up her mind not to an- 
 nounce the news to Madame Larik to-day. She was not 
 sufficiently mistress of herself to play the rejoicing 
 part that would be exi^ected of her; moreover, in her 
 mother's weak condition of health, another sudden shock, 
 even a j>leasant one, might be hurtful; and there was no 
 hurry; the good news would be as good to-morrow. 
 She was debating whether she would go in to her mother
 
 Narka. 09 
 
 now or come down later iu tlie afternoon, when the 
 sight of Sibyl's pony-carriage at the cottage gate settled 
 the question, and she went in. 
 
 Iu Narka's eyes there was no lovelier thing in nature 
 than the picture of Sibyl with Tante Nathalie, as Madame 
 Larik was called in the family. When she entered the 
 room now the young Princes-s was administei-ing to the 
 widow some little dainty that she had brought from tiie 
 castle, and insisted on making her eat. Madame Larik 
 yielded under protest, querulously declaring between ev- 
 ery spoonful that she had no appetite, and that there was 
 no reason why she should force herself to eat, or to live 
 at all, Sibyl petted her as if she had been a child ; her 
 manner was as full of gentle deference toward the pee- 
 vish, forlorn widow as if she had been a Czarina. 
 Madame Larik had been pretty in her youth, with that 
 soft round German comeliness that Avears better than 
 more regular beauty; she was a soft, fair, fat, round lit- 
 tle woman, with nothing to remind you of Narka's 
 grand lines or delicate splendor of coloring; but there 
 was no lack of intelligence in her features, and the maj- 
 esty of a great sorrow had set its seal upon her. 
 
 "Tante Nathalie is a great deal better to-day," said 
 Sibyl, when Narka came in. "She won't own it; but 
 that is sheer perversity, I tell her. Now, ma tante, 
 you must let me put you lying down, " she continued, see- 
 ing that Madame Larik had eaten the last spoonful of 
 her little dainty meal. 
 
 "I am well enough sitting so, my dear," said the 
 widow. 
 
 But Sibyl insisted. She had a notion that to make 
 people lie down must be good for them. 
 
 Madame Larik gave in, as she always did with Prin- 
 cess Sibyl.
 
 10 Warka. 
 
 "We must get her out for a drive to-morrow," said 
 Sibyl, fussing fondly about her, and putting a quilted 
 silk eider-down — her own gift — over Tante Nathalie's 
 feet. 
 
 " No, no," protested Madame Larik, shaking her head. 
 "No driving about for me while Father Christopher is 
 in prison. Wait till he is out." 
 
 "Your moping and worrying w^on't help him to get 
 out," said Sibyl. 
 
 " That is what I tell her," said Narka, standing at the 
 end of the sofa. 
 
 "Why does not Basil write? It is a bad sign that 
 he does not write," said Madame Larik. " It must mean 
 bad news." 
 
 "It means more likely no news," said Sibyl. "But 
 in any case he would not have trusted the news to the 
 post; he said so." 
 
 " If he had good news he would have managed to send 
 it somehoAV," per.sisted Madame Larik, in her little soft, 
 obstinate way, shaking her head. " Good news is sure 
 to come." 
 
 "I thought it was bad news that always travelled 
 fast," Sibyl said, laughing at her. "Why will you 
 croak so, Tante Nathalie?" 
 
 She took a vase off the table, and began to arrange 
 some hot-house flowers in it, talking in her i)leasant, 
 sympathetic way all the time. Then she said she must 
 be going, and Narka had better come with her. Narka 
 made no difficulty. She was thankful to escape the 
 strain of a tete-a-tete, with her mother.
 
 JVcfrka. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It was about four o'clock in tlie afternoon of the 
 sixth day after Basil's departure; the lamps had just 
 been lighted ; M. de Beaucrillon, Sibyl, and Narka were in 
 the drawing-room. Suddenly a loud barking of the dogs 
 announced some arrival, and before there was time to 
 conjecture who it might be, the door opened, and Basil 
 walked in. Sibyl ran to embrace him, and the others 
 greeted him with glad eagerness. After the excitement 
 of the meeting was over, Sibyl said: 
 
 ""And Father Christopher ? Have you succeeded V 
 
 "Yes; the warrant for his I'elease was signed the day 
 I left." 
 
 An exclamation of deep thankfulness came from all. 
 
 "Did you see him on your way through X.?" asked 
 Sibyl. 
 
 " I did. But don't let us begin to talk about that yet," 
 he said, letting himself fall into a chair. " I'm too dead 
 beat." 
 
 The ligbt fell full on his face, and they were all struck 
 by its haggard expression. The air of utter exhaustion 
 he wore was scarcely to be accounted for, at his age, by 
 a hurried journey to and from St. Petersburg. 
 
 Sibyl bent over him, and kissed his forehead. 
 
 "You must want some food, dear Basil," she said. 
 "What shall I order ? Tea ?" 
 
 "Nonsense— tea!" said M. de Beaucrillon. "Give 
 liim some strong bouillon and a bottle of good old Bor- 
 deaux."
 
 12 Narha. 
 
 "That would suit my condition better," said Basil, 
 "though a cup of tea would not be amiss either, if it 
 were ready." 
 
 "It will be ready in a moment," said Sibyl. "Ring 
 the bell, Gaston." Then, as if too impatient to wait for 
 the summons to be answered, she w^ent quickly out of 
 the room herself. 
 
 Beyond a mutual gi-eeting when they clasped hands, 
 Basil and Narka had not exchanged a word, and yet each 
 was conscious of being intently observa!nt of the other. 
 
 "How is Marguerite?" Basil inquired, suddenly. 
 
 "Oh, she is nearly all right," replied M. de Beau- 
 crillon. 
 
 ' ' I will go and tell the good news, " said Narka. "She 
 will be overjoyed." 
 
 " Why should I not go and take it to her ? I want to 
 see how she is," said Basil. He stood up, but it seemed 
 an effort to him. He looked like a man utterly spent 
 with fatigue. 
 
 "Mon cher,'' said his brother-in-law, "take my ad- 
 vice and go up to your own room and take a bath. That 
 will refresh you moi'e than anything, to begin with." 
 
 "M. de Beaucrillon is right," said Narka; "you will 
 have a better appetite too, when you are rested a bit." 
 She said this to give Basil the chance of getting away 
 and being alone with her for a moment. She had a 
 terrible piece of news to communicate to him, and the 
 sight of his weariness, which seemed as much mental as 
 physical, pained her to the heart, and made what she 
 had to say harder even than she had expected. 
 
 Basil consented to take his brother-in-law's advice, 
 and followed Narka leisurely out of the drawing-room. 
 She was on the landing at the head of the stairs, when he 
 made a sign that he wanted to speak to her.
 
 Narka. T-*^ 
 
 They both entered the study together. Basil went 
 sti*aight to his desk, unlocked it, and took out a bundle of 
 letters. 
 
 "I want you to keep tliese for me," he said; "but I 
 won't give them to you unless you are certain tliat you 
 can secrete them beyond any chance of discovery." 
 
 " You may give them to me," Narka replied. And he 
 gave them to her. 
 
 Nothing more was said : they knew that one was offer- 
 ing and the other accepting a trnst which involved ter- 
 rible possibilities to both. 
 
 "And now I have something else to tell you," Basil 
 said. "They have trapjied me ; a wai-rant is out for my 
 arrest." 
 
 "Ah! you know!" Narka exclaimed, almost relieved 
 at not having to break the news to him. "Ivan told 
 me; but they have not caught you yet. There is time 
 to escape." 
 
 " Escape is out of the question. The house is watch- 
 ed, and I have been followed all the way from X. I 
 met the Stanovoi there, and he announced the good 
 news to me." 
 
 "//e told you about it? Then he offered j'ou some 
 alternative, some chance of escape V 
 
 "He did; but I can't take advantage of it; I haven't 
 got the money. Every available ruble has been raised 
 for Father Christopher's ransom. I called at Ivan's on 
 my way here; but he is absent. That was my one 
 chance, and I have missed it." 
 
 "What is the sum ?" Narka said, a sudden hope mak- 
 ing her heart leap. 
 
 "Fifty thousand rubles. And to be paid by nine 
 o'clock to-night." 
 
 "Basil, I have got the money. Listen!" Her face
 
 14: JVarka. 
 
 was flushed; her great eyes slione; her voice trembled 
 with the lialpitatiiig joy that filled her as she hurriedly 
 told him about the legacy. And now she had only to 
 go into X. and fetch it. "Oh, what a blessed mercy 
 that it came just in time! I will ride in at once; it is 
 now half past four; a good horse will take me there and 
 back in two hours and a half. There will be no delay; 
 I will be here again by seven o'clock — in time for dinner. 
 No one need know I have been absent. It will be quite 
 easy; there is plenty of time." 
 
 She was turning away in a tremor of excitement when 
 Basil arrested her. 
 
 "Narka," he said, laying his hand on her arm, "you 
 are a noble-hearted friend; but do you think I am such 
 a pitiful dog as to take this money from you ?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" she said, looking at him in 
 bewilderment. " Is it because it is mine that you would 
 refuse it? Oh, Basil!" 
 
 There was a cry of pain in her voice as from a wound- 
 ed creature; there was a confession too in it that betray- 
 ed the secret of her heart. 
 
 "I would take anything from you," he said, conscious 
 of a slight shock and of a sudden burst of tenderness 
 toward her; "but you can't give it to me without sac- 
 rificing yourself and your mother. Heaven knows when 
 I could repay it. No, I can't be such a brute as to rob 
 TantcNatlialie!" 
 
 "And you think it will be less brutal to kill me? 
 Yes, it will kill me if they arrest you, for I know, and 
 so do you, what will happen, once you are in their 
 hands. My mother knows nothing about this money; 
 she need never know until you can give it back to us. 
 Oh, Basil! Basil! don't refuse me; it will kill me if you 
 do!" Her voice broke, her eyes were raised to his, brim-
 
 Ncirka. 15 
 
 fill of tears, and saying as plainly as ever eyes of wo- 
 man spoke, " I love you!" 
 
 Basil was moved to the core of liis heart. He forgot 
 that he was Prince Zorokoff, and that Narka was a low- 
 horn Jewess; he forgot everything except that this heau- 
 tifiil girl loved him, and was offering her all to save him. 
 
 He opened Avide his arms. ' ' Narka !" 
 
 With a soh she sank into his embrace. For one long 
 moment he held her clasped. Tlien lifting her head 
 from his shoulder, "Yes, I will take this money from 
 you," he said; "but only on one condition: Avill you 
 give me yourself with it ? Have you the courage to be 
 my wife ?" 
 
 "I should give my life for you," she answered. 
 
 He kissed her on the lips. 
 
 "Basil," she said, "I have loved you all my life." 
 
 "Dearest, and so have I loved you." 
 
 And he spoke the truth, but wuth a difference. 
 
 "I must be going," she said, struggling away from 
 him, but he tightened one arm round her. 
 
 "Wait a moment. We must pledge our betrothal 
 first." Drawing her toward a table, he unlocked a 
 drawer and took out a diamond ring, a hoop of sev- 
 ei'al beautiful stones. "This was my mother's betrothal 
 ring," he said, slipping it on her finger. "Wear it till 
 you come back from X. ; then let it hang as an amulet 
 round your neck until I can place it on your finger be- 
 fore all the world." 
 
 "May Sibyl not know?" she asked, with timid hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 "No; let it remain a secret between ourselves until 
 we meet. It will be another secret binding us together." 
 
 Ho was alluding to the ransom she was giving him; 
 but Narka grew pale.
 
 70 Narha. 
 
 "Yes," she said, almost under her breath, "it will 
 be another bond between us." 
 
 He kissed her again, and she hurried away, carrying 
 "with her the packet of letters he had intrusted to her. 
 
 Basil went to Marguerite's door and knocked; but 
 getting no answer, he went down to the dining-room. 
 Sibyl was there waiting for him, and sat with him while 
 he partook of the meal that had been hastily ordered, up. 
 Basil was only four-and-twenty, and he was in rude 
 health, and no amount of mental trouble could destroy 
 his appetite, or take away the natural cravings of hunger. 
 
 Sibyl saw that he was too tired yet to care to talk 
 much, so she busied lierself helping him to good things, 
 and kept up a lively flow of monologue, telling him all 
 that had happened since his departure, the excitement in 
 the village. Marguerite's illness, everything that could 
 interest him and save him the trouble of answering 
 further than by an occasional remark or question. 
 
 But while Basil was listening to Sibyl, his thoughts 
 were elsewhere. He was in a strange state of mind and 
 feeling. It seemed to him as if he had suddenly become 
 another person, as if a new Basil had been added to the 
 old one. He hardly realized yet what he had done, or 
 what was to come of it. He had made a tremendous 
 leap in the dark, and he was wondering where it had 
 landed him. He had taken a step which must change the 
 whole aspect and current of his life. He had done it 
 without a moment's premeditation, on the spur of a sud- 
 den impulse of — passion, was it ? or generous gratitude? 
 He was not calm enough to analyze his own heai't at 
 this crisis, or balance nicely the conflicting forces which 
 liad moved him to ask Narka to be his wife. And what 
 would Sibyl say ? She loved Narka dearly, as dearly as 
 il" they had been sisters in flesh and blood; but this per-
 
 Harka. 7 7 
 
 sonal fondness wtis quite compatible with invincible re- 
 pugnance to Narka as a sister-in-law; SibN'l's soft grace 
 of manner was so entirely free from morgue as to lead 
 her inferiors to believe she was altogether unconscious 
 of any superiority toward them; but beneath this out- 
 ward suavity there existed a spirit of family pride that 
 was hard as flint and strong to fanaticism. How 
 would she take the announcement that a Jewish traders 
 daughter was going to queen it over her as Princess 
 Zorokoff, the head of the family ? 
 
 This was not the only problem that was vexing Basil's 
 soul while he ate his caviare and salad. The image of 
 Marguerite kept forcing itself before his eyes with a per- 
 sistency that was unwarrantably troublesome. He had 
 long since recognized in his little French cousin a crea- 
 ture of a different mould from any that he had ever 
 met; the charm of her brightness, her happy spirit, 
 her child-like freshness of heart, had been working on 
 him like a spell. He had been aware of this, and had 
 not attempted to resist the influence; he knew that it 
 was Sibj'l's cherished dream that he should marry Mar- 
 guerite, and he had been onlj^ held back from pursu- 
 ing it by the fear that he had entangled himself in politi- 
 cal engagements from Avhich it would be cowardly and 
 unfaithful to break loose. Still he had been in a dreamy, 
 delicious Avay caressing possibilities, and it had struck 
 him more than once that Marguerite would not have re- 
 pulsed him. He was not vainer than most men, but 
 he could not help seeing that she changed color some- 
 times under his glance, and that her saucy, wistful eyes 
 took a softer, a more timid expression when they met 
 his; he had noted these signs with a pleasant sense of 
 power unchecked by any scruples or remorse, for he had 
 the consciousness of being quite willing, and he sus-
 
 78 Narha. 
 
 pected able, to heal any wound he might make in her 
 innocent young heart. But now he saw things diffex'- 
 ently. His conscience smote him ; he felt a pang at the 
 thought of having perhaps involuntarily inflicted one 
 on her. He longed to see her; he must see her once 
 again. It would be with very different feelings now 
 from those with which he would have met her an hour 
 ago; but he thought of Narka, of her ripe, glowing 
 beauty, her tender, self-sacrificing love, and he would 
 not let himself by so much as a passing sigh be unfaith- 
 ful to the loyalty he had sworn to her. 
 
 Marguerite was in the drawing-room Avhen he return- 
 ed there with Sibyl. The meeting was much less awk- 
 ward til an Basil had feared. It was natural that he 
 should be affectionately interested in his cousin, who 
 looked still pale enough to warrant Sibyl's reproach 
 that she had been tiring herself by writing letters. 
 
 " You must let me put you lying down, clierie," Sibyl 
 said, "and Basil Avill tell us all about his journey Avhile 
 you are resting." 
 
 But Basil protested regretfully that he could not enjoy 
 this relief of sitting quietly and talking to them. He 
 must go and tell Ivan Gorff the good news before he 
 could enjoy anything. 
 
 " We will send for him to come up and hear it," sug- 
 gested Sibyl. 
 
 "No, no; I must take it to him myself," Basil re- 
 plied, with a touch of imiiatience that silenced her. Ivan 
 was a pretext for going to the Stanovo'i to inform him 
 that the money would be forth-coming. Basil could not 
 tell Sibyl that he Avas under Avarrant of arrest; he felt 
 unequal to the effort of having to console her, and, be- 
 sides, he was not yet certain of being able to ransom him- 
 self. Narka might have some delay, the notaiy might
 
 Narka. 79 
 
 be out, the key of his strong-box might not be forth- 
 coming at once, an accident might have happened; who 
 could tell ? When luck is against a man, he must reckon 
 with bad chances. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon offered to accompany his brother-in- 
 law, but Basil said that as Sophie was ill, Ivan might 
 not be disposed to receive a visit. It was rather a lame 
 excuse, but M. de Beaucrillon understood, as Sibyl did, 
 that he wished to see Ivan alone, and did not press his 
 company upon him. It was natural enough, Gaston said 
 to himself, that, under the circumstances, Basil should 
 fight shy of a Frenchman; the latter rather admired 
 him for being ashamed of having a foreigner witness the 
 way his country was governed. Poor fellow, he looked 
 piteously worn, Gaston thought, as he noticed his sunk- 
 en eyes and haggard, unkempt air, like that of a man 
 who has not slept for nights. 
 
 Ivan was not at home, as Basil, who had met him 
 at X., knew, but the Stanovoi was. He asked no ques- 
 tions. So long as he got his money, he did not care 
 where it came from. He assumed that the French bro- 
 ther-in-law had come down with it; in fact, he had reck- 
 oned on this when he named so exorbitant a figure. The 
 ZorokofFs were wealthy, but ready money was scarce at 
 Yrakow; it all went to St. Petersburg, where the Prince 
 made it fly as fast as he got it. The castle kept itself; 
 there was plenty on the property of all that was wanted, 
 and what tlie property did not provide was done without. 
 The result was that odd mixture of lavish abundance and 
 uncivilized discomfort, traces of which Avere even still 
 visible in certain details, notwithstanding Sibyl's pres- 
 ence and the reign of orderly splendor that she brought 
 ' with her. 
 
 The interview with the Stanovoi was short. Basil
 
 80 NarJm. 
 
 liad nothing' else to do in the village, and nowhere else 
 to go, and two hours must yet elapse before Narka 
 returned, giving all chances favorable. He could not 
 bring himself to go back to the house and spend the in- 
 terval with Marguerite and the others. The effort of de- 
 ceiving them, and keeping the secret that was holding his 
 very life in suspense, was more than he felt equal to. 
 In another hour he would go back and quietly put up 
 the few things he wanted to take with hiui. 
 
 The night had closed in, and the moon had not risen, 
 so it was nearly pitch-dark. Basil paced along the road, 
 ruminating in bitter perplexity of spirit. Suddenly Pe- 
 ter, his dog, gave a low growl, and then an angry bark, 
 as if warning oif an enemy close at hand. Basil had 
 no doubt but that some agent of the Stanovoi's was 
 Avatching him. He struck a match, and looked at his 
 watch. Nai'ka had been nearly an hour and a half 
 gone. It was time he went home, and got ready to start, 
 assuming that he was to do so. He turned back, walking 
 quickly, for the air was frosty, and his breath made a 
 cloud before him as he went. Suddenlj^ the moon rose, 
 and a few stars sprang out in attendance, and the road, 
 black a moment befoi'e, was filled with light. On one 
 side there was a copse, toward which Peter's ill-will was 
 directed, judging from the way he growled at it now 
 and then. Basil, following the dog's indication, kept 
 looking that way; the outer trees threw a tracery of 
 shadow and sheen on the ground, but farther back it 
 was all a chaos of stems; presently his eyes, sharpened 
 by presentiment, descried the figure of a man stealing 
 along through the Avoods. Basil was quite certain that 
 he had been watched since he left X., but the sight of 
 this spy, dogging him in the dark, made him realize the 
 fact with a shock, and it seemed also to bring more viv-
 
 Ncirka. 81 
 
 idly before him the nearness of the peril on the brink of 
 which he stood. If Narka should be late, or fail in her 
 errand — 
 
 How slowly the time dragged on ! He quickened his 
 step; his foot-fall rang sharp and clear on the hard road. 
 Peter trotted on, and ceased to growl. Suddenly he 
 stood, tail and ears up-pricked ; then with a loud bark 
 turned and dashed back down the road. Basil turned 
 too, and listened. Was that the sound of galloping 
 hoofs that he heard ? Could it be Narka ? He stopped 
 smoking, he almost stopped breathing, as the sound drew 
 neai'er. Peter was barking violently, joyously. The 
 horse came in sight. It was Narka. Basil stepped into 
 the middle of the road, where the brilliant moonlight 
 shone unobstructed by a shadow, and waved his hand. 
 She pulled up, and in a moment he was beside her. 
 
 "Here it is," she said, in a cautious tone, stooping over 
 him. "I will ride on, and leave this poor beast at the 
 stables, and wait for you in the court." She unclasped 
 the lieavy bag that was fastened round her waist, and 
 Basil took it, and walked on rapidly after her. 
 
 On entering the outer court he ordered a groom to get 
 ready a carriage with four stout horses. He then walk- 
 ed on into the second court ; he was about to enter the 
 house when some one stepped forward and said, " Does 
 your Excellency want to speak to me ?" 
 
 "Ah! it is you. Yes, I want to speak to you," Basil 
 replied, with a short laugh. " Very considerate of you 
 to turn up just at the right moment. Come in here, will 
 you ?" 
 
 The Stanovoi followed him into the house, and they 
 entered a room close at hand. Basil struck a light. 
 They were closeted for a few minutes — just long 
 enough to count the money. 
 6
 
 82 Narka. 
 
 "Now, Excellency, depart with speed, aud don't let 
 the grass grow under your feet till you have passed the 
 frontier." 
 
 The Stanovoi bowed low, and hugging his bag, went 
 out. 
 
 Narka was waiting in the entry when Basil reappear- 
 ed. The tawny flame of an oil lamp gave enough light 
 to let them see each other. Basil caught her in Lis 
 arms and kissed her again and again. Tlien, brusquely 
 releasing her, he turned to ascend the stairs, and flew 
 up to his room. 
 
 Narka, in a tumult of bliss and agitation, went up to 
 hers. She was shaken to pieces by her mad ride; but 
 there was no time to rest; there was no time to think. 
 She must be ready to go to Basil before he went down- 
 stairs, and say good-by to him alone before going 
 through the ceremony of doing so in the drawing-room. 
 She divested herself quickly of her riding-habit, and pro- 
 ceeded to attire herself in a dress of white cashmere that 
 Basil admired; it was a fantastic garment of her own 
 contrivance, made with much artistic effect, but quite re- 
 gardless of fashion. She clasped a dead-gold band 
 round her waist, and fastened a crimson rose in her hair, 
 and witli a great joy and a great terror in her heart went 
 to seek Basil, but as she reached the broad landing on 
 which his room opened she saw M. deBeaucrillon stand- 
 ing at the door. It was a terrible contretemps ; there 
 was nothing to be done, but she must go down-stairs, 
 and trust to Basil managing to find a moment alone with 
 her before he fled. She found Sibyl in the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 "Well, you have seen Tante Nathalie?" exclaimed 
 Sibyl, who had taken for granted that Narka had gone 
 out with the good news to her mother. "She will come
 
 JVarka. 83 
 
 out for a di'ive now, I hope? But oh, Narka, liow ill 
 Basil looks ! Gaston says he has gi-own liv^e yeai'S 
 olclei" this last week. What a time he staid -with Ivan I 
 He has only just Come back, it seems." 
 
 "It has been a terrible week for all of us," Narka 
 said, ignoring the last remarks. She was standing near 
 a console, one hand resting on the porphyry slab ; a large 
 silver h^mp high placed on a malachite pillar behind her 
 threw its golden light over her soft white draperies, 
 and made her hair shine like a nimbus. Perhaps the 
 light of a deep and tender joy burning in her eyes and 
 trembling on her full red lips touched her with its out- 
 ward and visible glory, for Sibyl, who had been gazing in 
 a comfortable ecstasy up at the gods and goddesses on 
 the ceiling, glanced at her suddenly, and was struck by 
 something in her aspect. 
 
 ' ' Narka, " she exclaimed, ' ' you look like an archangel !" 
 
 "Never having seen an archangel," said M. de Beau- 
 crillon, sauntering into the room, "I was mentally com- 
 paring mademoiselle to a vestal, or a Gi'eek bride." 
 
 "Why Greek, mon cher ?" said Sibyl. 
 
 Narka blushed, and turned her large liquid glance 
 smilingly on M. de Beaucrillon. It was not often he 
 took the trouble to be complimentary, and being a wo- 
 man and beautiful, she was pleased. But it was not self- 
 ish coquetry that made her feel that sudden thrill of 
 exultation in her own beauty. She was proud of it for 
 Basil's sake now. 
 
 Partly to escaj^e from the embarrassment of standing 
 to be admired, and partly from her natural impulse to 
 give vent to her overwrought feelings in song, she moved 
 to the piano, and sat down and began to warble a bridal 
 song in Russian. The words were unintelligible to M. 
 de Beaucrillon, but the pathos of the melody and the
 
 84 Narha. 
 
 penetrating sweetness of the voice moved him sti'angely. 
 He said to himself, as he gazed and listened : 
 
 " What can Zorokoff be made of, that he has not fall- 
 en under the spell of such a creature ?" 
 
 When the bridal song came to an end — quickly, for 
 Nai'ka was impatient to escape — he entreated her to sing 
 it again. She could not refuse, and perhaps the impa- 
 tience of her soul made her tlirow more fire of passion 
 into the pathetic melody, for when it ceased M. de Beau- 
 crillon was so overcome that he had not a word of 
 thanks ready, but let her rise from the piano in silence. 
 
 "What can be keeping Marguerite so long, I Avon- 
 der ?" Narka remarked. "I must go and see;" and she 
 Avalked slowly out of the room. 
 
 "And what can be keeping Basil?" said Sibyl. She 
 was gi'owing fidgety. "I think I must go and look after 
 him." 
 
 "He was taking a bath when I knocked just now, 
 Vasili told me," replied Gaston. 
 
 "Oh, then he will be here presently, no doubt;" and 
 she sat down. 
 
 As she did so a valet came in with a letter, which he 
 presented to her. It Avas in Basil's Avriting. Sibyl 
 opened it with a cry and a start, and drew out a sealed 
 envelop addressed to Father Christopher, and then a note 
 that she read rapidly. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! This is too dreadful !" she cried out. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon snatched up the note. " Good hea- 
 vens ! Gone ! Fled ! Where have they taken him ? To 
 Siberia ? My God ! Avhat a country to live in !" With 
 a muttered expletive he threw down the letter, and pro- 
 ceeded to try and calm Sibyl, who had burst into hysteri- 
 cal grief. 
 
 Meantime Narka had gone and knocked at Basil's
 
 Narka. 85 
 
 door, and getting no answer, opened it. The room was 
 empty. She called his name, hut thei'e was no response. 
 In a flash of lightning she guessed the truth: he was 
 gone. But where? Could the Stanovoi have plaj^ed 
 him false ? She glanced round the rooms. The lights 
 Avere burning, but there was nothing to give the least 
 clew of why or how he had fled. Sick with terror, 
 Narka took up a candle and went on to her own room. 
 Perhaps he was there waiting for her. The room was 
 empty, but on the table— a little round table with a green 
 velvet cover on which there was a solitary book — lay 
 a letter. At a glance she saw it was fx'om Basil. 
 
 "My Narka, — I have not the courage to meet you 
 again, since we have to part at once. Adieu, beloved. 
 I will write when it is possible. I owe you my life. 
 It is yours for all time. Basil." 
 
 Narka sank into a chair, clutching the note in her 
 fingers. Grone! Without one moi^e embrace! How 
 could he? But the relief of knowing that he had es- 
 caped, that he had not been treacherously entrapped 
 to his ruin, as she had feared for a moment, was so great 
 that it helped her to forget the cruel disappointment. 
 She recovered herself quickly, and remembered, with 
 that strong sympathy for the suffering of otliere Avhich 
 was the noble side of her nature, that Sibyl and Mai-- 
 guerite would want to be sustained under this shock. 
 Ah, Marguerite ! Narka's heart went out to the child in 
 a rush of purest pity. She rose and hurried to her room, 
 but the news had got there before her. Marguerite was 
 on her knees by the bed, her face buried in the eider- 
 down, sobbing bitterlj^, so bitterly that she did not hear 
 the door open, or Narka's step crossing the room; she
 
 86 JSfarJca. 
 
 was only made aware of her entrance when Narka knelt 
 down and took her in her arms and drew her head upon 
 lier breast. Marguerite gave herself up to the caress; 
 it was pitiful and tender as ever one Avoman gave to 
 another. Narka had guessed her secret, and it had fired 
 her at first with a jealous fear that lay close upon ha- 
 tred ; but that Avas gone now, and she felt nothing but 
 compassion ; she could afford now to give her whole 
 sympathy to the woman who loved Basil, and loved 
 liim hopelessly. 
 
 Wlien the first jmroxysm of tears had spent itself, 
 Marguerite raised her head from Narka's shoulder, and 
 they stood uj) together. 
 
 " Oh, Narka, it is terrible!" she said, struggling with 
 the sobs that made her bosom heave. "If we only 
 knew that he was .safe!" 
 
 " He is safe, darling; that we may be certain of," said 
 Narka. 
 
 "Oh, thank God! I only heard that he was gone; 
 that Sibyl had a few words saying he had to fly. Where 
 is he gone, do you know ?" 
 
 " He is making for tlie frontier; and once beyond it, 
 he will be out of danger." 
 
 Marguerite murmured something that Avas swallowed 
 up in a great sob. After a moment she laid her hand 
 on Narka's shoulder, and putting her lips close to her 
 ear, "Tell me," she said in a whisper that was .scarcely 
 audible, " is it — is he only accused of politics, or is it — 
 anything else, do you know ?" 
 
 "They have accused him of nothing worse than of 
 hating tyrants and of conspiring against them." 
 
 "Ah!" The exclamation sounded like a gasp of re- 
 lief. 
 
 They were silent for a minute, standing close together.
 
 Narka. 87 
 
 Narka like a strong archangel, with her arm thrown 
 protectingly round the small, child-like figure that was 
 still shaken, with sobs. 
 
 "Darling," said Narka, "you are too agitated to come 
 down-stairs or see any one this evening. I will put you 
 to bed, and say that you were not well." 
 
 Marguerite understood. She kissed Narka, and gave 
 herself up like a child to be undressed and put to bed.
 
 88 Narka. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 M. DE Beaucrillon wanted to be off next morning. 
 Sibyl had some difficulty in making liim see that this 
 was imi)ossible. There was a multitude of things to be 
 done, she urged — things that she alone could do. All 
 the festivities and hospitalities had beencountermanded 
 and put off; but preparations for these had been made 
 on the grandest scale, and this involved a large settling 
 of accounts that no one else could attend to. Besides 
 these reasons, Basil had enclosed to her in his own short 
 note a letter for Father Cln-istopher, Avhich he desii'ed she 
 Avould hand him herself. Sibyl could not leave this 
 commission unfulfilled; and, moreover, it was out of the 
 question her going away without seeing Father Chris- 
 topher, quite independently of otlier impediments. The 
 Mayor, in answer to her inquiry whether they were to 
 expect the father that day, sent word that no message 
 had been received from X., but that it was not likely 
 he would be set free before Monday, certain formalities 
 liaving to be gone through before a prisoner w^as released, 
 even after the receipt of the order to that effect. 
 
 "What confounded humbug!" said M. de Beaucrillon. 
 "The brutes are just doing it in order to make me 
 spend another Sunday in this place. Well, look here, 
 Sibyl: I'll wait till Monday, but on Tuesday morning 
 we start. There is a limit to what man can bear." 
 
 "My dear Gaston, the limit is very soon reached with 
 you," said Sibyl. 
 
 "Just look at her!" Gaston said, appealing to Narka.
 
 Narka. 89 
 
 "Look at the state liei* eyes are in! The lids are so 
 red and swollen that it is frightful to behold, and she 
 looks about thirty! Your head is aching fit to split," 
 he added, looking defiantly at his wife; "I know it is. 
 You did not sleep an hour last night. Just look at 
 youi'self in the glass, and see what a complexion you 
 have!" 
 
 There was something grotesque to Narka in the 
 spectacle of M. de Beaucrillon standing before his 
 wife, bewailing her swollen eyes and her damaged 
 complexion, when such grievous anxiety was absorbing 
 tliem all. 
 
 If Father Christopher did not arrive to-morrow, Sat- 
 urday, it was likely enough they would retain him to 
 keep the Sabbath day at X., and not let him free until 
 Monday, as the Stanovoi suggested. M. de Beaucrillon 
 made up his mind to the Avorst, and heroically faced 
 the fact that he had three whole days to bear up under 
 the deadly pall of the place. He was anxiou.s, unselfish- 
 ly anxious, on Marguerite's account, to be off. He could 
 not but see that she was looking wretched. 
 
 "This place doesn't suit you, petite perle,'' he said, 
 taking her chin between his fingers and thumb and im- 
 printing a brotherly kiss on her forehead. " I wish we 
 were back in France ; if we had to spend another month 
 here, you and Sibyl would be in your coffins. I should 
 probably be in mine. This atmosphere of dramatic emo- 
 tions, sudden arrests, and hair-breadth escapes, of cruelty 
 and agonized despair, is enough to suffocate any man 
 not to the manner born. I feel as if I were playing 
 a subordinate and rather contemptible part in a tragedy. 
 It is intolerable." 
 
 He remembered, howevei", that it was only to last 
 three days longer, and took heart, lighted a cigar, and
 
 90 Narka. 
 
 went out for a ride. M. de Beaucrillou Avas the only 
 person at Yrakow who rejoiced in the prospect of the 
 approaching departure. To Narka it was a prospect 
 of bitter pain. Parting- with Sibyl was to her like i)art" 
 ing with fire in midwinter. When Sibyl went away, the 
 glory of the land departed Avith her. Eldorado was a 
 place where all the women were like Sibyl, and — if this 
 were possible even in Eldorado — all the men like Basil. 
 Narka had, it is true, a supreme consolation to sustain 
 her under the present parting; but even tliis had its drop 
 of bitterness; she felt guilty of a kind of treachery in 
 not telling Sibyl of her engagement. She longed and 
 she dreaded to tell her. How would Sibyl take it? 
 Would she open her arms and welcome her as Basil's 
 wife? or would that pride of birth which ran through 
 her veins as naturally, and almost as unceasingly, as her 
 blood, rise up like a snake and turn against the old sis- 
 terly love and sting it to death ? Narka had been ask- 
 ing herself tliis question ever since Basil had slipped the 
 ring upon her finger last night. But there were many 
 other things she longed to talk over with Sibyl: BasiVs 
 personal concerns; his chances of being forgiven and 
 pei'mitted to return to Russia; the possibility of indefi- 
 nite exile; all that this involved — the ruin of his career, 
 tlie utter blight of his prospects; but she dared not trust 
 herself to enter on these things, lest involuntarily she 
 might betray the secret which Basil enjoined on her to 
 keep strictly; it seemed as if the very tone in which 
 she now pronounced his name nuist tell a talc, it sound- 
 ed to herself so full of consciousness. 
 
 Sibyl, on her side, had a multitude of interests that 
 she wanted to talk over with Narka ; but she made up her 
 mind to Avait until the tiresome necessary things Avere 
 done, and then to devote tlic remaining sliort time to
 
 JViirka. 9 1 
 
 uadisturbetl enjoyment of her friend. One thing' she 
 did entei' on at once that afternoon. It was to ask 
 Narka to come with Tante Nathalie and spend the win- 
 ter at the castle, instead of living* in their cottage in the 
 village. But Narka refused. She loved the lordly old 
 fortress, with its towers and stately rooms and echoing' 
 galleries, and pictures and works of art; these surround- 
 ings were as pleasant and congenial to her as space 
 and the free air of nature to the denizens of the forest; 
 but she could not stay in possession of them now that 
 they were i^rospectively her own ; there would be a sort 
 of hypocrisy in acce^jting' Sibyl's offer, it seemed to her; 
 so she declined it on the plea that they, two lone women, 
 would feel less lonely in their snug little cottage, with 
 humble neighbors all I'ound them, than in the splendid 
 solitude of the castle. 
 
 Next morning, Saturday, M. de Beaucrillon proposed, 
 the moment he came down-stairs, that if Father Christo- 
 pher was not back by twelve o'clock, or if there was no 
 assurance of the exact time of his return, Sibyl should 
 drive in to X. after lunch and see the governor of the 
 prison, and ask what the delay meant. Sibyl began 
 to protest at the utter foolishness of such a step, which 
 would advance nothing, besides wasting one of the 
 last precious days at Yrakow; but her husband was 
 resolute, so she yielded. 
 
 "We shall have a quiet time together on the road, 
 anyhow; that will be something," she said to Narka. 
 
 Narka was glad ; glad above all to feel that Sibyl held 
 to a quiet time with her; that she was sighing for one of 
 those heart-to-heart talks that they had been used to in 
 old times, and had scarcely enjoyed with real satisfaction 
 during these three weeks when Sibyl had been taken up 
 with hospitable cares and activities.
 
 92 Narha. 
 
 Marguerite was to drive down in the pony-carriage 
 with Narka to see Tante Nathalie after lunch. 
 
 "To think that I have not been to see your mother 
 all this time!" she said, regretfully; "and now I am 
 only going to say good-by." 
 
 At eleven o'clock it began to rain — a heavy, slanting 
 rain that drove against the window-panes and washed 
 them ; the rain stopped, and it began to snow, first in a 
 sleety shower, then in thick flakes that made a white 
 fog, and quickly spread a white layer on the wet 
 ground. The drive to X. was a dreary outlook. There 
 was just the possibility, however, that it might be avoid- 
 ed. Father Christopher might return before they set 
 out. If he came, he would come early, the Stanovoi 
 said. 
 
 The snow continued to fall with increasing volume; 
 the wind rose, and blew steadily from the north, driving 
 the flakes furiously before it. Twelve o'clock came. 
 There was no message, and no arrival. The carriage 
 was to be ready at one, and take Narka and Marguerite 
 down to Tante Nathalie for half an hour, and then return 
 to take Sibyl and Narka in to X. 
 
 Sibyl was in the library, writing off the last notes. 
 She was so busy that she did not hear the luncheon bell. 
 Marguerite came and fetched her. They had scarcely 
 entered the dining-room when a servant rushed in with 
 the news that a carriage, which had been coming at full 
 speed along the X. road, had just entered the park. 
 
 "It is Father Christopher!" cried Sibyl; and with a 
 chorus of glad exclamations they all hurried into the 
 drawing-room, where a large bow-window commanded 
 the drive almost to the lodge gate. 
 
 The carriage came on through the blinding snow. 
 Sibyl was laughing and crying with joy; Marguerite
 
 JVarka. 93 
 
 was in a fluttei* of excitement; Narka, outwardly calm, 
 but with a beating heart, watched the carriage drawing 
 near. 
 
 " Let us meet him in the hall," said M. de Beaucrillon, 
 as the horses swept round to the terrace. 
 
 They ran out, ready with a joyous welcome. 
 
 The door was open ; but it was not Father Chi'istopher 
 who stood on the threshold. It was an officer in uni- 
 form. 
 
 "The Countess de Beaucrillon ?" he inquired, looking 
 from one to another of the three ladies. 
 
 Sibyl stepped forward, and he handed her a letter. 
 
 She tore it open, and ran her eye down the page. 
 Then, with a piercing scream, "My God! they have sent 
 him to Siberia!"
 
 94 JSfarka. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Winter reigned at Yrakow in all its severity. The 
 castle, with its mighty bastions and battlements sheeted 
 in snow, went shelving down to the white forest; the 
 fields on every side i)resented an interminable rolling 
 wliite i^lain; the whole earth was buried deep in snow; 
 and still it snowed and snowed. Narka would stand 
 at the window and watch the flakes falling until the mo- 
 notony of the motion almost sent her to sleep. The 
 ghost-like stillness was overpowering; it seemed to wrap 
 everything in a winding-sheet. Not a sound made a 
 break in it all day long. In the night-time the wolves 
 came down into the village and howled; but except for 
 that dismal concert the laud might have been a grave- 
 yard, so profound was the hush. Any sound would have 
 been a relief — the voice of a man, the cry of an animal, 
 the creaking of a wagon ; but these would have seemed 
 as lihenomenal as if the stars had begun to talk in the 
 midnight skies. 
 
 The death-like silence of external nature was made 
 doubly oppressive to Narka by the moral silence which 
 enveloped her like a shroud. Life was becalmed in a 
 fog. She never heard from Basil. He had not sent lier 
 a sign since they had kissed and parted after that ride 
 of hers to X. This cessation of all intercourse between 
 them was inevitable, but at times it was unbearable. If 
 she could have moved away anywhere, have changed 
 ])lace, it would have helped her, for the immobility of 
 life adds fearfully to its weiglit and weariness. The 
 
 i
 
 Karka. 95 
 
 spirit is wonderfully relieved sometimes by the flight of 
 the body, and the old Egyptians expressed a common hu- 
 man need as well as a deep spiritual mystery in their 
 emblem of the sistrum agitated on either side of the sit- 
 ting god for a sign that motion was Life and stagnation 
 Death. There was nothing to stir the watei-s round 
 Narka, and her moral life seemed to be stagnating like 
 a pool in the desert. 
 
 Taute Nathalie's rheumatism and peevish complain- 
 ings did not enliven the monotony much. She, good 
 soul, found excitement enough in her own troubles, past 
 and present, in her knitting, and the few comings and 
 goings of the morning. This daily routine, with the ever 
 new interest of ordering the meals and lecturing the 
 servants, was enough- to keep her occupied; but Narka's 
 hungry, ardent soul craved for something more, and the 
 dull white days and the long black nights dragged on 
 with intolerable weight. 
 
 Sibyl's letters were the solitary incidents that broke 
 the leaden monotony of her life, Sibyl gave her news 
 of Basil. They had agreed to speak of him as "M. 
 Charles," a cousin of Gaston's. But even this disguise 
 had to be carefully used, for of course the letters were 
 opened. M. Charles could not send messages to Narka, 
 whom ho was supposed never to have seen. Sibyl could 
 only say that he was hoping to make her acquaintance, 
 and inquiring when she was coming to France, etc. He 
 was himself in Italy, studying painting; he hoped to 
 come to Paris in the spring, unless his father insisted 
 on his accompanying him to Scotland, alias Russia. 
 These meagre details were to Narka like drops of water 
 to a thirsty soul. 
 
 About her own life Sibyl spoke freely. It was evi- 
 dently a very pleasant one, full of gay activities, balls,
 
 96 Narka. 
 
 concerts, dinners, and all tlie brilliant devices of mod- 
 ern society for making the daj^s fly; there were also 
 benevolent contrivances for helping the destitute, and 
 very pleasant opportunities they seemed to be, by Sibyl's 
 accounts. But what interested Narka most in these per- 
 sonal records was the place that she, though absent, 
 filled in them. She seemed seldom long out of Sibyl's 
 thoughts, however busy or brilliant the chapter of her 
 life might be. " Oh, my Narka, I miss you so terribly ! 
 I feel your absence more and more every day. There 
 is nobody like you — nobody whose sympathy is like 
 yours," etc., etc. Words like these recurred at every 
 page, and they were as wine to Narka. It gave her con- 
 fidence in herself to be reckoned thus amongst the best 
 values of Sibyl's life. Since Sibyl, who had all the 
 world to choose from— Sibyl, whose taste was so refined, 
 whose sympathies were so noble, whose instinct was so 
 true — since Sibyl set such store upon her she could not 
 be the poor worthless creature she sometimes fancied 
 herself in moments of despair. Then she would remem- 
 ber that Basil loved her; that she was his affianced 
 bride ; that he too was reckoning the days until he could 
 claim her for his own, and present her to Sibyl and all 
 the world as his wife. She could surely afford to wait, 
 and to be patient under the present, Avhen the future held 
 such joy in store for her. 
 
 Marguerite wi'ote occasionally, brightly and affection- 
 ately. But toward the close of the winter Sibyl began 
 to speak of Marguerite with anxiety. The cliild's health 
 was very delicate; there was no organic ailment, but she 
 was drooping like a flower; they had had several ex- 
 cellent offers of marriage for her, but she had refused 
 them all unhesitatingly, giving no reason except that 
 she was not in a hurry to marry.
 
 Narka. 97 
 
 Narka read all this with growing apprehension. 
 Could it be that Marguerite's feeling for Basil had been 
 deep enough to make her shrink from tlie idea of ever 
 marrying any one else ? Narka had never contemplated 
 sucli trouble as this. She had hoped, and had come 
 honestly to believe, that it had been a mere passing flame, 
 such as the first accomplished man she meets kindles 
 easily in the heart of a very young girl. It would in- 
 deed be an added weight on Nai-ka's spirit if bright little 
 Marguerite was entering on life with a broken heart. 
 
 One day a letter came announcing that the doctors 
 had ordered her to go south and travel for a couple 
 of months. 
 
 "The remedy comes most opportunely," Sibyl said. 
 "M. Charles has been lingering on in Florence, intend- 
 ing to go to Rome for Lent. It will be delightful for 
 us to join him there, and I am very much in need of 
 a change myself. Marguerite had at first seemed charm- 
 ed at the idea of going to Rome, but all of a sudden, when 
 the programme was settled, she changed her mind, and 
 has been nervous and depressed ever since. The doctors 
 say this uni'easonable state of feeling is only an addition- 
 al proof that she wants change, and they assure us the 
 journey will set her right. We are now in the bustle 
 of packing, and I shall probably not write again until 
 we are starting." 
 
 Narka could not x^retend to herself that this letter was 
 not a shock. She was not jealous; she did not for a 
 moment doubt the strength of Basil's constancy ; but it 
 was hardly in woman's nature that she should not feel 
 uncomfortable at the prospect of his being thrown for 
 two months into daily and hourly companionship with 
 a charming girl who was deeply in love with him, and 
 whom he was already very fond of. Oh no, Narka was 
 7
 
 98 Narha. 
 
 not jealous; but liev heart rose in passionate rebellion 
 against the cruel fate which put mountains and seas 
 between her and Basil, and forced him into the society 
 of Marguei'ite. And it was Sibyl's doing ! For the first 
 time in her life Narka felt angry with Sibyl. It was 
 very Avell to talk about the lucky chance that had brought 
 this meeting about; it was much more likely the result 
 of Sibyl's clever manoeuvring. She had long ago set her 
 heart on this marriage; fate, which was fighting against 
 Narka with such overpowering odds, was playing into 
 Sibyl's hands, those pearly, potelees hands whose soft 
 touch had such a compelling power, and had always 
 made everybody and everything bend to their will. 
 They were now bending Marguerite's destiny to it. 
 Was it quite impossible that they should eventually 
 bend Basil's ? 
 
 Narka was as restless in the narrow cottage rooms 
 as a strong, untamed creature in a cage. It was hor- 
 rible to have to carry this gunshot wound in her flesh, 
 and go about with a smiling countenance,discussing with 
 Madame Larik the best way of preparing the codfish 
 for dinner. The comedy of life was intolerable. Why 
 should heaven and earth be set against her, as they had 
 been from her cradle up ? 
 
 "Narka, you are singing like a soul in purgatory cry- 
 ing out for prayei's," said her mother, as poor Narka 
 gave vent to her misery in a strain of passionate music. 
 
 "Mother, I am a soul in purgatory," she answered, 
 with a dry laugh. "It is my firm belief that this life is 
 purgatory, and that in the next there will be only heaven 
 and hell." 
 
 "Dear! dear! what a wonderful notion you have 
 aljout things! Your head is too full of poetry, child; 
 not but that there may be some sense in what you say.
 
 NarJca. 99 
 
 I do believe this life is purgatory to many of us, and 
 mostly to those who don't want any pui'gatory, one 
 would tliink. Alas! alas!" 
 
 Narka knew that the concluding sigh was dii'ected to 
 Father Christopher. Each knew that he was seldom out 
 of the other's mind, but, as by tacit consent, they never 
 spoke of him. 
 
 A week went by. There was a fresh fall of snow 
 in the night. The next morning the wind rose, and blew 
 with its might from the north. A carrier coming on 
 horseback from X. said the roads were impassable from 
 the drifts that rose like embankments at intervals. For 
 the next week traffic was suspended. If Prince Zorokoff 
 had been at home, or Count LarchotT alive, there would 
 have been an ai'my of scavengers at work ; but there was 
 no one there now to press the peasants into the service. 
 Even the Stanovoi was away at X. , which was pleasanter 
 in this weather than snowed-up Yrakow. 
 
 At the end of three weeks the welcome face 8f the 
 l)ostman appeared at the cottage gate. He brought two 
 letters from Sibyl. One bore the Paris postmark, the 
 other that of Palermo. Narka went up to her room to 
 read them alone. She opened the one from Paris first. 
 
 "I have a most extraordinary piece of news to tell 
 you, my Narka," Sibyl began. " I ought to have written 
 to you sooner, but I was so bewildered at the first mo- 
 ment that I had not the courage to finish a letter I had 
 just begun to you. 
 
 "I told you that Marguerite showed the strangest 
 reluctance to go to Italy when everything was settled. 
 It puzzled us all. She was very nervous and quite mis- 
 erable, but gave no explanation of her sudden change. 
 At last, one morning before 1 was up, she came into my
 
 100 JVarJca. 
 
 room, and sat on the edge of my bed, and said: 'I have 
 something" to say that will be a surprise, and I fear a 
 disappointment, to you. I can't go with you to Italy. 
 I have made up my mind to be a Sister of Charity.' I 
 was so taken aback that I could not speak for a moment, 
 but just stared at her as if she had gone mad. ' I have 
 been thinking about it for a long time,' she went on, 
 ' and I am now quite sure it is my vocation. The idea 
 of going to Rome and seeing the Holy Father tempted 
 me at first ; but I soon saw it was only a temptation, and 
 that I must not yield to it; so instead of going oflf with 
 you and Gaston, I am going to the Rue du Bac to make 
 my novitiate.' I really did think that the child had gone 
 out of her mind. 'Why,' I said, 'you will be dead in 
 a month; the hardships of the life will kill you.' She 
 laughed, and said, ' Oh no; I jiromise you not to be dead 
 before two mouths; you will be back in time to see me 
 alive.' I did not know whether to burst out crying or 
 to be Tery angry. She looked so sweet and bright, and 
 yet there was something so unnatural in the idea of her 
 doing such a thing. Oh, Narka, if you could have seen 
 the expression of her eyes, those clear brown eyes of hers, 
 when she went on to talk about the happiness of giving 
 her whole life to God, and making atonement for those 
 who offend Him ! The idea of atonement seems to have 
 taken hold of her like an idee fixe. I said that if she 
 had had a wicked father, or if any one belonging to her 
 had committed a crime, I could understand it ; then there 
 would be some sense or some show of reason in her put- 
 ting on a stuff gown and burying herself in slums and 
 hospitals ; but she said that every sinner was her brother, 
 and she felt a call to suffer and atone for them. In 
 fact, she has atonement on the brain. 
 
 ' ' She asked me to break the news to Gaston. I was
 
 Narha. 101 
 
 quite ill tit the thought of having to do it. I have such 
 a horror of seeing anybody in pain, above all, any one 
 I love. However, it had to be done. He cried like a 
 child, dear Gaston. But he was not at all as shocked as 
 I expected. He said if it was her vocation he would 
 not lift a finger to hold her back. He talked like a the- 
 ologian about people being 'called to the religious life.' 
 I never could have believed Gaston knew so much about 
 theology; but Frenchmen are so strange; they are full 
 of conti'adictions. I was so upset by all these emotions 
 that I had to keep lying down all the afternoon, with 
 comi^resses of eau sedative on my head ; and—" 
 
 Narka at this point let the letter drop, and interlacing 
 her long white fingers, she straightened up her arms 
 above her head, and heaved a great gasp of relief. It 
 was not for herself that she was relieved. Oh no ! it was 
 for Marguerite. Gentle, sensitive little Marguerite, who 
 had escaped from a cruel ordeal. Loving Basil as she 
 did, it would have been torture to the child to be thrown 
 into constant companionship with him, to be the object 
 of his brotherly solicitude, to be forced under the charm 
 of his sympathetic nature, a charm that no one came 
 near Basil without succumbing to. How could she have 
 endured this for two whole months and not gone out 
 of her mind ? Narka lay back for a long moment, con- 
 sidering the danger and the pain that Marguerite had 
 been saved. This improvised vocation was of course 
 a stratagem to escape fi'om an intolerable trial. They 
 might safely let her go to the Rue du Bac during their 
 tour to Italy ; they would find on their return that the 
 vocation had come to an end. Narka smiled as she 
 thought of Marguerite giving up her flowers and dainty 
 coquettish toilets for the gray gown and the cornette. 
 But as she smiled she felt a sudden i^rick of remorse and
 
 102 JSIarJM. 
 
 doubt. Could it be that the idea of offering up her young 
 life in atonement had become an idee fixe strong enough 
 to impel her to the sacrifice ? 
 
 Narka would not dwell on this possibility. There 
 was another letter of Sibyl's to be read. She opened it 
 with a pleasant anticipation of interest. 
 
 "Here we are, with ilexes and oranges making a back- 
 ground to the loveliest villa you can iinagine! The 
 roses are scenting the air till the sweetness makes one 
 tipsy. If only you were here to enjoy it with us, my 
 Narka ! No delight is complete to me without you. You 
 would find out so many beauties that I can't see, and you 
 would sing all this exquisite idyl to me with that heaven- 
 ly voice of yours ! Well, some day, please God, we shall 
 see it together. , . . We had a most comfortable journey, 
 and already Marguerite looks better for the change. 
 Oh ! I forgot I had not written to you since I told you of 
 the bomb-shell she threw at us about her vocation. 
 Well, after a week spent in pleading and coaxing, ap- 
 pealing to her love for us, to every motive that could 
 move her, the matter was decided by the Superioress of 
 the white cornettes, a most fascinating woman, and a 
 saint (Gaston says, who had several long talks with her). 
 She told Mai"guerite that it would be better in every way 
 for her to come away for the change, because the doctor 
 of the community was in great doubt whether her lioalth 
 would prove equal iu its ])resent state to the hardships 
 of the life; consequently the wisest thing would be to 
 get up her strength before she made the trial. Margue- 
 rite was greatly disappointed at first, but after a day or 
 so she seemed to take a more cheerful view of things, 
 and was quite satisfied to come away. And you can't 
 imagine how much better she already looks — so .nuich 
 less pale and languid-. She is in excellent spirits.
 
 Ncirka. 103 
 
 "M. Charles joined us at Naples. We were all de- 
 lighted to meet. He is very thin, and looks a good deal 
 older; but his health is good. We do our best to cheer 
 him, and he is so happy to have us near him !" 
 
 Narka did not see what more Sibyl wrote. The re- 
 action from the intense elation of the first letter to the 
 disappointment of this made her feel sick. She sat, with 
 the two letters in her lap, in a kind of half stupor. Her 
 mother's voice calling to her made her start as if she had 
 been asleep, in a bad dream. Madame Larik knew 
 that letters had come, and was impatient, of course, to 
 hear all about them. Narka stood for a moment to re- 
 cover her self-possession, and make up her mind how 
 much she should tell. Perhaps it was best to read the 
 letters as they were. There was nothing in them that 
 she need conceal, and the mere communicating of their 
 contents would be a relief. 
 
 She went down to the sitting-room, and read them 
 aloud, and found Madame Larik a most responsive lis- 
 tener. 
 
 "What nonsense to talk of being a Sister of Charity! 
 The pretty young creature! Of course there is a love 
 affair at the bottom of it. Why does not Princess Sibyl 
 find it out and settle it V 
 
 "But you hear what M. de Beaucrillon says? He 
 would not oppose her entering the convent in the least." 
 
 ' ' Then he ought to be ashamed of himself. I thought 
 better of the Count. He was exceedingly polite to me. 
 I suppose it is some great noble who has no money, 
 or who has more than Mademoiselle Marguerite. Prin- 
 cess Sibyl told me that the marriages in France are 
 such matters of business! What a pity she and our 
 young Prince could not take to each other ! Wlio 
 knows but they may, now that they are going to be to-
 
 104 Narha. 
 
 gether for a few months? I can't think why Prince 
 Basil did not fall in love with her here." 
 
 This was hard to hear and respond to ; but Narka felt 
 it was not so hard as having to stifle the mention of the 
 subject altogether.
 
 Narha. 105 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The weather had improved, the wind had fallen, and 
 it was now possible to get out. The deep snow of course 
 put riding out of the question; Narka regretted this, 
 for she was a perfect horsewoman, and there was a 
 favorite Arab of Sibyl's at the castle which was always 
 at her orders. Her fearless command of the strong, spir- 
 ited animal that bore her along with a stride as swift as 
 a hound's gave her a sense of power that was exhilara- 
 ting. While she was in the saddle, flying through the 
 air like a bird, she felt like a prisoner enjoying a mo- 
 mentary escape from captivity. The flight of the body 
 seemed to liberate the spirit and give her breathing 
 space. In-doors she was obliged to keep strict guard 
 over every look and gesture; she had to keep down her 
 very thoughts with a strong hand lest they should find 
 their way into her face, and betray her to Madame 
 Larik's watchful eyes. This constant pressure on her 
 life — that inner life which, to Narka, was so much more 
 vital than the outward — made her sometimes feel as if 
 she were, like the rivers, frozen and locked up in ice. 
 When this feeling gi-ew strong she would take out the 
 betrothal ring that she wore round her neck like an 
 amulet, and she would slip it on her finger, and recall 
 every woi*d, every caress, of Basil's when he had placed 
 it there, until her spirits rose and her heart expanded, 
 and she could look forward to the coming spring, when 
 the sun would shine out upon her life, and unlock its 
 fi'ozen stream and set its waters free.
 
 106 N'arka. 
 
 The next best thing to a ride was a clriv^e; so the first 
 day the weather grew genial enough to admit of it she 
 sent up to the castle, where there were horses and vehi- 
 cles of all sorts, to say she wanted a sleigh that after- 
 noon. It was at the door at the hour she named. 
 
 The winter landscape was beautiful. The cabins and 
 cottages, sheeted in smooth, hard snow, looked like mar- 
 ble shrines and tombs, from which the smoke curled 
 up in blue spirals, like incense from thuribles. As the 
 sleigh turned into the forest the sun shone out, and the 
 spectacle was so dazzling that Narka made the Cossack 
 pull up, and paused to admire it. The wilderness of 
 white trees stretched on and on as far as the eye could 
 reach, tossing up their arms in every fantastic form 
 against the sky; every bough was festooned with gar- 
 lands of snow flowers, or laden with bunches of crystals 
 that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight. The forest 
 might have been a cathedral in ruins, so profound Avas 
 the silence. Not the faintest murmur of insect life dis- 
 turbed the deep hush. The very air held its breath. 
 Suddenly a bi*anch, not strong enough to support its 
 mass of glittering stalactites, snapped and fell ; the crash 
 broke the stillness for a moment, but only to make it 
 seem more profound the next. 
 
 There was something very impressive in this death- 
 like silence of the white solitude that held so many se- 
 crets buried in its depths, so many mysteries that would 
 never be revealed in this world. The forest was like 
 the sea, it seldom gave up its dead. There was a pile of 
 stones on the spot where Larchoff had been found. It 
 had risen slowly; every stone that went to the heap had 
 been flung with a cui'se, and this was the only monu- 
 ment whicli had been raised to the murdered man. As 
 Narka noticed the snow-ci*usted trophy, a chill crept
 
 Narka. 107 
 
 over liei". Would that dark secret ever be revealed ? 
 TJie thought of Father Christopher made her heart sick, 
 and yet she could not deny that the crime — or the acci- 
 dent — might have been followed by even a more unbear- 
 able sacrifice than his cruel captivity. 
 
 She told the Cossack to drive on. She was sorry she 
 had stopped ; the sight of that mound chased away 
 every other thought, and poisoned the pleasure of the 
 drive. The sleigh bounded along for nearly an hour. 
 Then she turned homeward, taking another road, that 
 led past Ivan Gorff's house. 
 
 The absence of Ivan and Sophie was a great loss. 
 They were not close friends ; but Narka had known 
 them all her life, and they were kind and pleasant 
 neighbors. Moreover, Ivan would be sure to have news 
 of Basil. Ivan's resources were numerous, sometimes 
 mysteriously so. 
 
 As the sleigh was passing the gate, Narka was sur- 
 prised to see the windows of the first story, where 
 Sophie's I'ooms were, ope)i. Could the Gorffs have 
 returned ? She desired the Cossack to turn in. The 
 gate stood open, and as the sleigh flew up the walk to 
 the house, she saw Ivan at a window. Before they had 
 reached the door, he was in the hall waiting for her. 
 
 "This is a good omen!" he said, his whole counte- 
 nance beaming with delightful surprise. "I only ar- 
 rived an houi- ago. I was just going to see you." He 
 was radiant with pleasure, but his face wore deep traces 
 of sufFei'ing, either moral or physical ; perhaps both. 
 
 " How are you, Ivan ?" said Narka, in a tone of kind 
 anxiety that he was not used to from her. 
 
 "I am well," he answered, with a shrug of his broad 
 shoulders; "better than I ought to be, considering. 
 Sophie is not well."
 
 108 JSTarJca. 
 
 "Oh, I am so sorry!" said Narka, feelingly. "Is it 
 her chest ?" 
 
 "Yes. She has a cough that shakes her to pieces. 
 It is always in my ears like a death-knell. But I am 
 a fool. She is better out of the world than in it. Have 
 you had any news lately ?" he asked, turning abruptly 
 from the subject. It was evidently one he could not 
 bear to discuss. 
 
 " No. Sibyl is afraid to give me much news." 
 
 "She can't be too careful, or you either," Ivan added, 
 with a significant nod. "That is why Basil does not 
 dare write. Every line you write or receive is read. 
 He is in good health. I saw him ten days ago. He 
 was — " 
 
 "Ten days ago !" Narka interrupted, eagerly. " How 
 is he ? What is he doing ?" 
 
 "He is waiting," said Ivan, in his quiet way. "Have 
 you heard about his confession ?" 
 
 "Confession?" repeated Narka, and she changed 
 color. "No." 
 
 "As soon as he heard the trick they had played him 
 about Father Christopher's i-elease, he wrote to the 
 Prince, telling him that it was he who shot Larchoff." 
 
 " What ?— Basil ?" 
 
 "He said he had fired on him by mistake; that he 
 would have acknowledged it at the moment, but he 
 had not the courage to declare that he had accident- 
 ally taken the life of a man whom he was known 
 to hate — to be on bad terms with. When Father 
 Christopher was accused, he thought the best thing to 
 do was to go to St. Petersburg and sue for his release. 
 And they cheated him into believing he had made it 
 all right." 
 
 "And then what did the Prince do ?"
 
 Narka. 109 
 
 Ivan gave a slow smile. "He sent him word tliat his 
 confession came too late to do any good to Father Chris- 
 topher. Basil might have known this. What is written 
 is written. The Prince said if he wanted to play heroics 
 he might come back and give him.self up as the mur- 
 dei'er, and get sentence of death added to the sentence 
 that was ready awaiting him for his other misdemeanors. 
 This would not in the smallest degree help Father Chris- 
 topher, but it would be a fine thing to do." 
 
 ' ' And what did Basil answer ?" 
 
 " He wrote a letter to the Emperor, telling the whole 
 story, and pledging his honor to go back and deliver 
 himself up to justice, if his Majesty would sign an order 
 for the father's liberation." 
 
 "Ohmy God!. ...Well?" 
 
 " I never could have believed Basil was such a fool," 
 continued Ivan, turning his face to Nai'ka, with his slow 
 smile, and his eyes brimming over with hilarity. ' ' What 
 do you think he did ? He guessed, as the Prince had so 
 manj^ good friends in the imperial closet, there was little 
 chance of this letter being allowed to reach the Emper- 
 or's hands, so he confided it to the servant who had 
 brought him the Prince's letter, and gave him a lot 
 of money to take it to a i^erson in St. Petersburg, who 
 Avas to convey it to the Emperor. Could you have be- 
 lieved Basil would be such a fool ?" Ivan seemed quite 
 to enjoy the revelation of Basil's foolishness. 
 
 " The servant did not deliver the letter?" said Narka, 
 breathless and impatient. 
 
 "He did deliver it — to the Prince, of course." 
 
 " Ah ! And what did the Prince do ?" 
 
 "He put it into the fire. What else could he do ?" 
 
 Narka trieil to steal a deep breath unnoticed. "I 
 suppose," she said, ''one could not expect he would
 
 110 Narha. 
 
 have done otherwise." Then, after a pause, "Did Basil 
 do anything after this ?" 
 
 " Basil, in due course, received an answer from Prince 
 
 W , his Majesty's secretary, informing' him that his 
 
 august master was not deceived by his generous subter- 
 fuge for saving the life of Father Christoiiher ; and, 
 moreover, admitting even that this particular charge 
 against Father Christopher was false, there were a score 
 of others proved, some that would have hanged him had 
 not the imperial clemency been extended toward him for 
 the sake of Prince ZorokoflP. After this, Basil gave up 
 the game. He had played badly, luckily for himself." 
 
 Narka, in her heai't, echoed "luckily for himself." 
 But she was proud to know that Basil had done his 
 utmost to set Father Cliristopher free, even at the sacri- 
 fice of his own liberty, and the risk of his life. After a 
 pause, she said, "Do you believe Basil shot Larchoff ?" 
 
 "No, I don't," said Ivan. 
 
 "You think he accused himself to obtain the Father's 
 release ?" 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Then what do you think?" asked Narka, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "I believe he thought he shot Larchoff. He told me 
 he fired at what he took for a fox crouching behind a 
 tree ; there was a sound of sometliing falling with a 
 heavy thud on the dry brambles, but as it was growing 
 dai'k, he did not care to grope to the spot and examine 
 his game; he meant to tell the keeper; but when he got 
 home he forgot all about it, and it was only when the 
 news came of Larchoff 's being found murdered that, 
 like a flash of lightning, he saw he had shot him." 
 
 "It looks likely enough," observed Nax'ka in an 
 undertone, as if communing with herself.
 
 Narha. Ill 
 
 "If it liad been Larchoff, he would have cried out, 
 for he was not shot dead; he did not even lose con- 
 sciousness; he was sensible to the last, and the doctor 
 said he had been bleeding for a couple of hours, and 
 that half an hour earlier he would still have had 
 strength most likely to tell evei'ything. It was loss of 
 blood that did for him." 
 
 "Then who do you suppose shot him?" inquired 
 Narka. 
 
 Ivan's big shoulders went slowly up, and then slowly 
 down. "It may as likely have been Father Christo- 
 pher. The wood was too dark for any one to take aim 
 with safety; but everybody was on the qui vive about 
 the wolf, and anxious to get the reward Basil had put 
 on the brute's head." 
 
 "Father Christopher would not have been looking 
 out for that; and he did not cany arms when he went 
 on sick calls," argu.ed Narka. 
 
 "Not in a general way. But there was the wolf, 
 remember. I don't want to fasten it on Father Christo- 
 pher," Ivan continued, turning his candid glance on 
 her; "I only want to show that it was as likely to be 
 his doing as Basil's. I did my best to make Basil see 
 this, but he will have it that his bullet hit Larchoff. 
 And he accuses himself of having killed Father Christo- 
 pher, as well as Larchoff, by not acknowledging the 
 accident at once. If I had not come in the nick of 
 time, he would have been off to St. Petersburg, and 
 given himself up as a prisoner." 
 
 ' ' Oh !" Narka exclaimed, with a shudder ; ' ' that ivoulcl 
 have been madness." 
 
 " Stark madness, and without compensation of any 
 sort. In the first place, he would not have released Fa- 
 ther Christopher, and in the next place he would have
 
 112 Narka. 
 
 ruined Princess Sibyl — probably the Prince; the prop- 
 erty would have been confiscated, and the sin of the 
 son would most likely have been visited immediately on 
 the father. But I had hard work to make Basil see 
 this." 
 
 "But you did make him see it ?" 
 
 "Yes, I finally did." 
 
 " How did you hear all about the miscarriage of his 
 letter?" Narka asked— "about the forged answer sent 
 from the Emperor ?" 
 
 "Not forged, false; the letter was written by Prince 
 
 W . Prince Zorokoff told me the story himself 
 
 when I went to him to St. Petersburg with a letter from 
 Basil." 
 
 It apparently did not occur to Ivan that there was any- 
 thing shameful in the systematic trickery of the Prince, 
 or in his, Ivan's, making himself a tacit accomplice in it. 
 To Narka it was a genuine satisfaction, an intense re- 
 lief, to learn that Basil had endeavored to undo the 
 Avrong he had done, and to feel at the same time that 
 Ivan and the Prince stood between him and any future 
 rash proceedings of honor and remorse. 
 
 " Are you going to make any stay here ?" she asked. 
 
 "No; I leave to-morrow morning." 
 
 " You are not likely to see Basil soon again ?" 
 
 "I shall see him at Easter. By-the-way, he gave me 
 a letter for you," Ivan said, casting about for his pock- 
 et-book, as if it were by chance he had remembered it. 
 
 " And to think of your not telling me that at once !" 
 said Nai'ka, as he handed her the precious letter. 
 
 ' ' I had more to tell you than Basil has put in his let- 
 ter; that I'll swear to," replied Ivan, good-humoredly. 
 " Are you going ? Won't you wait to read it ?" 
 
 "No; it has waited so long, it can wait till I get
 
 Narka. 1 13 
 
 home." Narka was not going to open that letter before 
 him, and run the chance of betraying herself. "Give 
 my love to Sophie, "she said, "and ask her to write to 
 me. Write to me yourself, and give us news of her; 
 that will be better." 
 
 Ivan accompanied her down-stairs, and assisted her 
 into the sleigh, and stood watching her as it drove 
 down the avenue and disappeared along the road. 
 8
 
 114 Narha. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Narka went straiglit home, and hurried up to hei' 
 room, locked the door, and took out Basil's letter. It 
 was not a long one. This is what he said: 
 
 ''You have not misunderstood my silence. It was 
 safest for you, and you are my first care in life. It was 
 enough for each of us to know that the other was well. 
 Don't lose heart. The time will not be long, please 
 Heaven! Let this hope sustain you, as it does me. 
 Every day I remember our last moments together. I 
 am yours forever, through life aiad death." 
 
 It was a cold love-letter. But Narka read between 
 the lines all that she wanted to see written there, and 
 the very absence of any terms of endearment had in it 
 a strength of assurance that satisfied her. It surprised 
 her a little that Basil should not have confided the truth 
 about their mutual relationship to Ivan ; but she quick- 
 ly reminded herself that this contrast between his re- 
 serve toward a true and devoted friend and his absolute 
 trust in her was only a new proof of his whole-hearted 
 love. "And so have I loved you all my life," he had 
 said to her when he was placing liis mother's ring on her 
 finger. And the memory of those words thrilled Narka 
 with such a great joy that for the moment fear, doubt, 
 anxiety, every feeling but perfect trust and secure hap- 
 ])iness in his love gave way. What could Sibyl and 
 Marguerite and all the world togetlier do against that 
 love which had grown with his growth, and was strong 
 enough to make him trample pride and every worldly
 
 Narka. 115 
 
 interest underfoot? Narka kissed the letter tenderly, 
 put it into her pocket, and made herself ready to go 
 down-stairs. 
 
 By the time she had taken oft" her things she was calm 
 enough to meet her mother, and tell her of the vmex- 
 pected meeting with Ivan, and the good news of his 
 having seen Basil. This gave them enougli to talk 
 about for the rest of the day. Narka's spirits had risen 
 suddenly to overflowing gayety, and when that evening 
 slie sat down to the piano,Madame Larik could not have 
 coinj)ared lier voice to tlie crying of a soul in Purgatory. 
 It sounded more like the singing of one of the blessed 
 in heaven, so thrilling was its jubilation, so melting 
 sweet its pathos, filling the whole house with melody, 
 as the song of the bird overflows its cage and floods 
 the surrounding air with music. 
 
 And yet, for all she was so happy, Narka slept un- 
 easily that night. She had lain down full of sweet 
 thoughts of Basil, but when she fell asleep she dreamed 
 a dreadful dream about him. He came to fetch her, 
 she thought, and they drove away together. The sleigh 
 flew over the snow for miles and miles; at last they 
 stopped at a stone house standing in the wilderness, 
 with miles of snow stretching round on every side. 
 Basil got out of the sleigh, and lifted her in his strong 
 arras into the low-roofed house, and kissed her, and dis- 
 appeared. Then she found herself alone with a man in 
 a black mask, and wearing the uniform of the police ; 
 he stood looking at her in silence through the holes of 
 his mask, until the silent stai'e made her blood run cold ; 
 at last he slowly removed the mask, and she beheld the 
 dead face of Larchoft'. The horror of the sight awoke 
 her. 
 
 It was not much to be wondered at that the emotions
 
 116 Narka. 
 
 of the day should have been followed by an agitated 
 night, but this dream was so vivid that it left her 
 nervous for some time after she awoke. 
 
 She dressed hei'self quickly, and went down to make 
 the coffee, which she always cax'ried up to her mother 
 in bed. As she passed the entry into the little parlor 
 there was a ring, and presently the maid ushered in a 
 man weai'ing the hated uniform of the police. 
 
 "You are Narka Larik?" he said, with the abrupt 
 directness of a person whose business can dispense with 
 formality. 
 
 "Yes, I am Narka Larik." 
 
 "You are in correspondence with Prince Basil Zoro- 
 koff?" 
 
 "No, I am not." 
 
 "You are kept informed of his plans, and he left 
 papers in your keeping." 
 
 "He left me nothing, and I know nothing of his 
 plans," Narka answered, meeting the sliarp scrutiny 
 of the police officer without quailing. 
 
 He seemed staggered, she thought, by lier confident 
 beai'ing. 
 
 "Will you swear to tliat?" he demanded. 
 
 "I am not in the habit of swearing," she replied, 
 with quiet hauteur. "To those who know me my 
 word suffices." 
 
 "But to those who do not know you it does not suf- 
 fice," observed tlie officer; and he drew from his pocket 
 a long flat case, opened it, and disclosed an image of 
 St. Nicholas. "Swear upon that," he said, holding it 
 out to her. "Swear by the blessed St. Nicholas that 
 you have in your possession no papers belonging to 
 Basil Zorokoff." 
 
 For one moment Narka hesitated. For one moment
 
 Narha. 117 
 
 conscience staggered back from the dreadful consum- 
 mation; her tongue was held, as the murderer's finger 
 is held on tlie trigger before he pulls it; red lightnings 
 danced before her; then everything was a blank. She 
 laid her hand on the icon, and said, '''' I swear it.'''' 
 
 The officer deliberately closed the case and put it back 
 into his pocket. "Another time I will take your word," 
 he said, with a cruel smile. " You have perjui'ed your- 
 self, and you are my prisoner. Come !"
 
 118 NarJca. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The de Beauci'illons were at Naples. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillou had gone for a cruise in a friend's 
 yacht, and Basil, who was staying at a hotel close by, 
 had come to accompany Sibyl and Marguerite in their 
 afternoon ride. Just as the party were about to start, 
 however, Sibyl was seized with a shivering fit, and said 
 she had taken a chill, and would stay at home. Mar- 
 guerite declared she did not in the least mind giving 
 up the ride, and was quite ready to stay with her; but 
 Sibyl scouted the notion of this, and insisted on her 
 going for her ride with Basil. Marguerite, reluctant to 
 leave her, and shrinking a little from the long tete-a-tete 
 with Basil, gave in, as everybody did to Sibyl, and the 
 two set out together. 
 
 Sibyl watched them fi'om th6 window as they mount- 
 ed and rode away, and said within herself, impatiently, 
 "If he has any sense he will have decided his own 
 future and Marguerite's before I see them again." 
 
 Basil suspected that the chill had been invented in 
 order to provide him precisely with this opportunity, and 
 it annoyed him. Sibyl had done her utmost to induce 
 him to pay his court to Marguerite, and cure her of the 
 silly delusion about her call to be a Sister of Charity; 
 but Basil had positively refused to make any such at- 
 tempt. " If she has set her heart on a grand ideal," he 
 said, "I am not such a fop as to imagine I could turn her 
 from it by making love to her." 
 
 His manner toward Marguerite was perfect — a mix-
 
 Karha. 119 
 
 ture of chivalrous respect and brotlier-like familiarity — 
 and it irritated Sibyl the more because she could not 
 find any fault with it. It had seemed to her, however, 
 that within the last few days Basil showed signs of fall- 
 ing, unconsciously perhaps, but unmistakably, under 
 the spell of Marguerite's charm, and she was deter- 
 mined to give him every opportunity of becoming hope- 
 lessly enslaved. To-day, how^ever, the chill had been 
 an honest chill , though it served her purpose. 
 
 But the manoeuvring did not further her designs. 
 The ride was a success as a ride, but an absolute failure 
 as an opportunity for flirtation, or even conversation. 
 
 On returning to the hotel they found that Sibyl was 
 in her room. She had grown rapidly worse, and the 
 doctor had been sent for, and ordered her to bed at once. 
 She sent word that Basil was to stay and dine, and she 
 hoped after an hour or two's rest to be better, and able 
 to see him in the evening. This was all very clever, 
 but Basil was not duped by it; it annoyed him, and he 
 would have gone back to dine at his hotel if he had 
 not been afraid it might have seemed to Marguerite 
 rude or stupid. So they dijied alone. After dinner 
 Sibyl's maid came to say that Madame la Comtcsse had 
 a frightful headache, and could not see either of them. 
 
 Basil went aAvay about nine o'clock. It was the end 
 of Januai'y, but the weather was balmy as if it had 
 been September. The sky was deep blue, and full of 
 stars, Orion prominent, striding across the zenith with 
 his glittering belt and his sword and his dogs. Basil 
 wondered whether he was shining more brilliantly in 
 the Northern skies at Yrakow than here at Naples, and 
 whether Nai'ka was looking at the same constellations 
 from her window amid the snow. He thought a great 
 "deal about Narka. Since Marguerite's arrival she was
 
 120 Narka. 
 
 seldom out of his mind. The loyalty of his nature was 
 in arms to protect her rights from the peril of Margue- 
 rite's presence. He said to himself a score of times a 
 day, "She is a noble woman, she loves me, and I owe 
 her my life." Narka might have looked into his heart 
 all the day long and not detected one disloyal throb 
 there. And yet, if she could have seen how sternly his 
 honor was mounting guard over her image, it might 
 have pained her more, perchance, than a passing in- 
 fidelity, for which a warmer love would have quickly 
 atoned. 
 
 He was loath to go in-doors, the night was so glorious. 
 He sauntered along the Chiaja, listening to the angry 
 growl of Vesuvius, and watching the blue waters of 
 the bay, so calm that they reflected the stars like a 
 second sky. It was past midnight when he went back 
 to his hotel. 
 
 Next morning he was dawdling over his cofPee when a 
 servant knocked at the door of his room, and said there 
 was a gentleman outside wanting to see him. Basil, 
 surprised at so early a visit, desired him to be shown 
 in. He uttered a loud exclamation of pleasure on be- 
 holding Ivan Gorff, grasped his hand, and pushed him 
 into a chair, laughing and rejoicing. But Ivan, instead 
 of responding in his usual quiet way, remained ominous- 
 ly silent. 
 
 "What is the matter?" said Basil, in quick alarm. 
 "My father?" 
 
 "He is well. I saw him four days ago. But there is 
 other trouble. Nai'ka Larik is in prison." 
 
 Basil sprang to his feet with a cry, and then dropped 
 back into his chair. 
 
 Ivan told tlie story that we know. 
 
 "It was a providential chance that I heard of the
 
 Narka. 121 
 
 arrest at all," he added. "I was to have left early 
 next morning- to catch the first train from X., but I 
 overslept, and missed it, so I went out to see the Lariks, 
 and heard what had happened an hour before. It was 
 pitiable to see the poor mother ; she was half mad with 
 grief. I went straight to St. Petersburg, and told the 
 Prince. He was terribly distressed. He could not 
 have been more shocked if Narka had been his daugh- 
 ter. He went off at once to the police to learn where 
 she was, and then to the Minister, and set every engine 
 at work." 
 
 " Where is she ?" 
 
 Ivan hesitated. "Well," he said, "you will have to 
 know. She is at Kronstadt." 
 
 "Oh, my God!" Basil stood up, then walked the 
 length of the room, muttering to himself, '^^ Kronstadt ! 
 Oh God! it is too horrible. Narka! Narka! why was I 
 born to bring this horror upon thee ?" He dropped into 
 a chair, hid his face in his hands, and sobbed aloud. 
 
 Ivan waited a moment to let the first violence of his 
 agitation spend itself before he spoke. "You did, then, 
 leave papers in her keeping ?" 
 
 " I did — curses on me for a blind fool !" Basil, with 
 a strong effort, mastered his emotions. "Did the police 
 find them fii'st ?" he asked, "or did they foi'ce hei' to 
 give them up ?" 
 
 "They did neither. They turned the cottage inside 
 out, but they found nothing ; and Narka denied that 
 she had anything belonging to you. She had stuck to 
 that denial when I came away. They got nothing out 
 of her after ten days in Kronstadt. The Prince — " 
 
 Basil put up his hand with a quick gesture, as if to 
 stop Ivan from saying something that he could not bear. 
 
 " I was going to say," continued Ivan, "that she has
 
 122 NarTca. 
 
 suffered nothing worse than imprisonment so far. The 
 Prince has managed that, and he will keep on paying 
 to prevent it." 
 
 Basil drew a deep breath. ' ' I must at all risks go at 
 once to St. Petersburg, and see my father, and — " 
 
 ' ' That would be madness, and it would not help Nar- 
 ka," interrupted Ivan. 
 
 " Listen," said Basil. And he related rapidly the his- 
 tory of his threatened danger, his escape through Nar- 
 ka's assistance, and his troth plighted to her before they 
 parted. 
 
 Ivan's round blue eyes grew rounder as he listened. 
 But no one could have guessed that the story excited 
 in him any stronger emotion than astonishment. 
 
 "You see, at all risks I must go," Basil continned. 
 "I must go and stand by her; I must tell my father the 
 whole truth, and ask him to come with me to the Emper- 
 or and obtain her instant release." 
 
 Ivan laid his broad hand heavily on Basil's shoulder. 
 "Take care that you don't close the pi-ison door on lier 
 irrevocably by overhaste in trying to open it. Your 
 father is now moving heaven and eartli in her interest ; 
 but do you think if he knew that as soon as she was free 
 you meant to make her Princess Zorokoff, he would 
 work as hard for her release ? He would feel it his first 
 duty to himself and you to leave her safe where she is. 
 He would not go to the Emperor and sue him to liberate 
 a low-born Jewess that she might be set up at the head 
 of the Zorokoffs. It would be a choice of sacrificing her 
 or you. Do you think he would hesitate ?" 
 
 ' ' When he hears that I owe her ray life ?" insisted 
 Basil; but there was more vehemence than conviction: 
 in the way he said it. The hard logic of Ivan's reason- 
 ing fell upon him like the blows of a hammer; his
 
 Narka. 123 
 
 whole will rose in rebellion against it, but he felt that 
 it was stronger than his will. "Then, in Heaven's 
 name, what am I to do ?" he cried, with the petulant de- 
 spair of impotence. 
 
 "Ask Princess Sibyl to go to St. Petersburg and throw 
 lierself at the feet of the Empress, and implore her to 
 obtain an order for Narka's release. That is the only 
 thing you can do that will avail. But trust me, keep 
 your secret as close from the Princess as from your 
 fatlier; she is a Zorokoff, and it would be sacrilege in 
 her eyes to set the coronet of her house on the head of 
 a Jewess." 
 
 Basil winced. He felt the full truth of this, and it ex- 
 asperated him to find himself powerless, stopped at every 
 turn from lifting a finger for the woman who had 
 saved his liberty, and been herself dragged into such 
 trials through his fault. It was like being pinioned in 
 a strait-waistcoat and forced to look on while one dear 
 to him was tortured. 
 
 "I will go to Sibyl," he said, "and you will tell her 
 what has happened." 
 
 They went at once to Sibyl's house. The valet met 
 them at the door with a face full of alarm. "I was 
 coming to fetch you, Prince," he said. "Madame la 
 Comtesse is very ill. M. le Comte has been sent for." 
 
 The chill had been no pretence. Sibyl was in high 
 fever, tossing on her pillow, delirious.
 
 124 Narka. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The fever ran its course. Sibyl's life was never in 
 actual danger, but it was six weeks before she was able 
 to leave her room, and then nearly a month elapsed be- 
 fore the physicians said that they might venture to tell 
 her of Narka's imprisonment. Even then, though Gas- 
 ton broke it to her with the gentlest precautions, the 
 shock affected her health seriously for some days. 
 
 Of course the proposal of her taking the journey to 
 St. Petersburg, with such excitement awaiting her at the 
 end of it, was postponed indefinitely. The typhoid fever 
 had left mischief behind it, and as soon as she was strong 
 enough to bear the fatigue she was to go to Schwalbach 
 for the baths and waters. 
 
 All these delays were terrible to Basil. Without 
 Ivan he could not have borne them. But Ivan was 
 a staff to them all. He lived on the railway between 
 St. Petersburg and Kronstadt and Naples, taking flying 
 visits to the Crimea, where Sophie was rapidly fading 
 away. Owing to the largess he scattered with royal 
 generosity to the greedy wolves at the fortress, he was 
 able to obtain many alleviations for Narka, and to con- 
 vey written messages from her to her mother. He paid 
 without counting wherever there was a man to be 
 bribed or a chance secured. 
 
 Marguerite had remained with Sibyl up to the present. 
 Her puri^ose was still unshaken. Basil's companion- 
 slii]) liad not made her falter, and after the severe test 
 of many months' temptation she was more convinced
 
 JSFarka. 125 
 
 than ever that Heaven called liei* to renounce all things 
 for God's sake, and for the service of the poor. Gaston, 
 from the first, had not attempted to oppose her, and 
 when Sibyl Avas pronounced strong enough to go to 
 Schwalbach, Marguerite bade her farewell, and returned 
 to Paris, accompanied by her brother. 
 
 The de Beaucrillons had given saints to the cloister 
 and heroes to every battle-field, the Church, the State, 
 and the camp, and more than one fair virgin face, 
 shrouded in the veil, looked down on Gaston de Beau- 
 crillon from the walls of his ancestral home. The mo- 
 ment had now come for him to prove that the high 
 courage he had inherited from a knightly race had not 
 degenerated. He loved his young sister with the ten- 
 derest affection, but when the day came he went with 
 her to the Rue du Bac, and in the whitewashed parloir 
 that has so often seen enacted the humble but divine 
 drama of a life's sacrifice the brother and sister kissed 
 and parted. 
 
 Then M. de Beaucrillon rejoined his wife. 
 
 Prince Zorokoff was working in Narka's behalf with 
 a zeal that did credit to his heart, but, as his family 
 well knew, this particular exercise of zeal was precisely 
 what best suited his taste and capacity. The atmos- 
 phere of a court was to him the very breath of heaven ; 
 he was in his element in the midst of its intrigues and 
 ambitions; the splendid and awful chances which made 
 life under the eye of a despot a standing lottei-y, where 
 the prizes were wealth and titles and honors and mi- 
 raculous rescues, and the blanks torture, captivity, exile, 
 and death, were to this loyal Muscovite exhilarating 
 as wine. He Avas impatient for Sibyl to come and play 
 her part in the present drama, and exert her influence 
 with the Empress, which would be creditable to him as
 
 126 NarJca. 
 
 well as serviceable to Narka. Finding, at last, that in 
 spite of his urgent appeals M. de Beaucrillon insisted 
 on his wife's carrying out the doctor's injunctions, 
 without sacrificing one bath, the Prince resolved to 
 act on his own unaided resources, and to entreat the 
 Empress himself. 
 
 " Our sovereign's birthday is approaching," he wrote 
 to Sibyl, ' ' and I will petition her on that occasion for 
 Narka. Her Majesty delights to bestow happiness at 
 all times, but more especially does she love, in her 
 adorable goodness, to make this auspicious anniversary 
 a day of consolation to the sorrowful, and of rejoicing 
 for all her subjects." 
 
 Nothing in Russian life and character puzzled M. 
 de Beaucrillon so much as this servile worship of the 
 Czar. The abject tone used by a proud nobleman 
 like Prince ZorokoflF in speaking of the despot who de- 
 stroyed or destituted human beings with no more com- 
 punction than the mower cuts down the poppies in draw- 
 ing his scythe through the grass was a mystery that 
 Gaston gave up trying to solve. So inveterate was the 
 habit of slave-like homage in tlie Russian mind that 
 even when writing to his own daughter the Prince's 
 language was as sycophantic as if he were addressing his 
 imperial master in person, or speaking to a brother cour- 
 tier wlio might repeat his words. And the way Sibyl 
 acquiesced in her father's blind adoration was still more 
 incomprehensible. 
 
 The autocratic regime hud, however, its redeeming 
 point — it was exciting, it was fruitful in emotions. 
 They were generally of a painful kind, but a joyful 
 one was just now in reserve for even Gaston, Sibyl 
 had nearly completed her coui'se of baths at Schwal- 
 bach, and was making ready to yet out for St. Peters-
 
 NarJca. 127 
 
 burg, when slie received a lettei' from her fatlier saying- 
 the Emperor liad pardoned Basil, and appointed him 
 Chamberlain to the Empress, while the Empress, on her 
 side, had implored and obtained Narka's release. The 
 Prince was on the point of starting with Ivan GorflP 
 to Kronstadt with the order for her immediate libera- 
 tion, and they would then convey her back to Tante 
 Nathalie at Yrakow. 
 
 Sibyl's joy was only equalled by her gratitud^e. "I 
 always felt certain that the Emperor would grant both 
 petitions if they were properly in-esented to him," she 
 said, crying and laughing with delight. "Our sweet 
 Empress! our grand, magnanimous Emperor! May 
 their goodness bring down every blessing on their 
 heads!" She clasped her hands, and raised her drown- 
 ed eyes to Heaven in devoutest supplication. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon was going to retort, but he shut his 
 lips tight, with a widening grimace expressive of deter- 
 mination to keep them shut. He was too thankful for 
 the cause of these ardent benedictions to sneer at his 
 wife's loyal effusions; but what, in the name of justice 
 and common-sense, had Narka done to call forth this 
 gratitude to the Emperor for having ordered her to be 
 let out of prison ? Basil had misbehaved himself, 
 though how far his misconduct deserved the severe pun- 
 ishment which had overtaken him, and the still severer 
 fate that he had escaped, had never been explained. 
 But Narka on some vague suspicion had been thrown 
 into a dungeon, and kept there five months, although 
 the active searches of the police had failed to produce 
 anything to substantiate the smallest charge against 
 her. And because she was now liberated the heavens 
 were to break and rain down dew upon the heads of the 
 sweet Empress and the magnanimous Emperor ! Truly
 
 128 Narka. 
 
 it was strange to see Sibyl, tlie child of a freeborn 
 French mother, so completely the victim of inherited 
 paternal blindness as to invest the caprice of an irre- 
 sponsible tyrant with the character of divine clemency. 
 It was a great relief in every way that the journey 
 to St. Petersburg was given up. M. de Beaucrillon felt 
 as if he had himself been let out of prison when he set 
 his face toward France, with the prospect of respite, for 
 a time at least, from those sudden catastrophes and hair- 
 breadth escapes which made life within breathing dis- 
 tance of a Russian atmosphere a constant gasp and 
 strain.
 
 Mifka. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A YEA.R had gone by since Nai-ka's release and Basil's 
 restoration to imperial favor. In that interval many 
 tilings had happened. Madame Larik and Sophie 
 Gorff had died, Sibyl had become a mother, and Mar- 
 guerite de Beaucrillon had passed her novitiate, and put 
 on the gray gown and vphite cornette of a Sister of 
 Charity. 
 
 Narka, after her mother's death, left Yrakow and 
 went to Koenigsberg, where some old friends of her 
 mother resided. She took with her nothing but her 
 books and a few little household gods, and her j)iano — 
 Sibyl's gift to her before her marriage. So long as her 
 mother lived she liad accepted Prince Zorokoff's gen- 
 erous kindness, but when once alone, she I'efused to 
 remain a jjensioner on his bounty, and went to Koe- 
 nigsberg, resolved to support herself by giving lessons 
 in singing. 
 
 She and Basil had not met. His request for a pass- 
 port and short conge to go and see his sister was met 
 by a peremptory refusal, and an intimation that he had 
 better not repeat the demand for at least a year. He 
 chafed, but submitted. Rebellion was useless. He cor- 
 responded regularly with Narka, and though his letters 
 were guarded in their expressions, Basil being, as he 
 was aware, under close surveillance, he was able to 
 make her feel that she was his chief object in life. He 
 was bitterly distressed at not being able to repay her 
 even a portion of his debt ; but the Prince never had a 
 9 ♦
 
 1 30 Narka. 
 
 rouble to spare ; he was hard set to find money for his 
 own extravagant expenses, and to supply Basil with the 
 means of keeping up the costly decencies of his position 
 at court. He kept him, in fact, like a school-boy, al- 
 lowing him to run up what bills he liked, but never 
 giving him any money. 
 
 Narka was, however, so far, in no straits. She had 
 a little sum from the sale of her furniture to start 
 with, and she had found pupils enough to keep her mod- 
 erate wants supplied. The sepai'ation from Basil was 
 her great trial. But though she suffered, she was far 
 from unhappy. She loved him, and she believed un- 
 doubtingly in his love for her. She was therefore like 
 one kept waiting at the gate of Paradise, and soon to 
 be admitted to its lovely shade and sweet-scented 
 alleys. 
 
 Basil's plan was by patience to disarm all suspicion 
 of his purpose, and then obtain a passport under pre- 
 tence of going to see Sibyl; once free, he would marry 
 Narka, and trust to his father's forgiving him. It was 
 a vague enough plan, but it was the only one that held 
 any hope of accomplishing their union ; so Narka was 
 content to abide by it, keeping her heart quiet with bliss- 
 ful dreams of the future that each day drew nearer to 
 her. 
 
 Sibyl had written affectionately, offering her a home 
 after Tante Nathalie's death ; but Narka had refused to 
 accept it. She preferred, and she knew that Basil pre- 
 ferred, that she should remain independent of Sibyl 
 for the present. She gave, however, as a reason for her 
 refusal that she hoped to find a centre of work very 
 easily at Koenigsberg, and that for a time at least it 
 would be better for her to be occupied and amidst new 
 scenes and people. Sibyl assented, and agreed that
 
 Narha. 131 
 
 change of association and work might, indeed, be the 
 best thing for her, after all that she had gone through. 
 Narka ought to have been satisfied, but so inconsistent 
 is human nature that it sent a pang through her heart 
 to see Sibyl acquiescing in her reasons, instead of con- 
 tradicting and trying to overrule them. 
 
 So life seemed to have settled down into a very nar- 
 row groove for poor Narka. Sibyl, evidently, could live 
 without her. There was no outlook but that solitary 
 one toward the golden gate of Paradise, and for the 
 present this seemed blocked by a mountain of obstacles. 
 
 Not many months after her arrival at Koenigsberg 
 an important event occurred: Sibyl's baby was born. 
 Nothing could be more charming than Sibyl's manner 
 of announcing the joyful event to her. "I feel," she 
 wrote, "as if my joy in him would not be complete 
 until I see my baby in your arms, my Narka. Ah! 
 does the future hold in reserve for me the delight of 
 holding your baby in miy arms ? I believe it does, ^na 
 cherie. I believe that all the sorrow that has gone 
 before was a preparation for some great happiness in 
 store for you." 
 
 Narka read the letter many times over. Did Sibyl 
 guess ? Or was it her own overflowing happiness that 
 made her pi'ophetic ? 
 
 Life seemed now, indeed, a perfect joy for Sibyl, and 
 her letters were electric in their communication of it. 
 The baby was a little magician whose wand made every- 
 thing beautiful. When in due course he performed the 
 seemingly unparalleled feat of lisping his mother's 
 name, the wonder was that things went on as usual, that 
 the sun rose and set just as if nothing extraordinary 
 had happened. Sibyl's great anxiety was lest Narka 
 should not see him until the glory of his infant graces
 
 132 Narka. 
 
 had departed, and lie sliould have entered on another 
 phase of intelligence and fascination. But these fears 
 were suddenly dissipated by a prospect as unexpected 
 as it was blissful to Narka. 
 
 She received a letter from Basil telling her that he 
 was appointed to the post of Secretary to the Russian 
 Embassy in Paris, and was to enter on his new duties 
 in about three months. Prince Ki'insky, the newly 
 named Ambassador, had asked for him, alleging that 
 Basil's thorough knowledge of European languages 
 would make him a valuable auxiliary, and that he knew 
 no other young man so suitable for the post. 
 
 "My father is very pleased," said Basil, "though the 
 appointment will cost him a lot of money. He has, 
 however, found means of raising it at once, and has 
 been so generous that I am able to send you two thou- 
 sand roubles, which the bearer of this letter Avill hand 
 you in German money. You will go, immediately on 
 receiving it, to Paris, and there await my arrival. 
 Sibyl will want you to go to her; but I prefer that you 
 should not. We will make her understand the reason 
 soon. I am in hopes tliat things will favor us more 
 readily than I had dared expect. Of course there will 
 be a great row. But the Empress is really kind, and I 
 count on her support to bring round my father. That 
 done, we shall have no more trouble. The Fates seem 
 as if they were going to be good to us at last. 
 
 ' ' I have written to Ivan to go and accompany you 
 to Paris. He will find a nice lodging for you, and 
 make you feel less lonely on arriving in the strange 
 place. Sibyl is at Biarritz, which is just as well, under 
 the circumstances. Au revoir soon, my own beautiful 
 Narka. Basil."
 
 Narka. 133 
 
 Narka could hardly believe that this wonderful news 
 was true. Three short months, and Basil would meet 
 her and make her his wife! Gladly would she have 
 started that same hour for Paris, so eager was she to 
 obey him and to find herself in the city where he ap- 
 pointed to meet her; but it is only people in the story- 
 books who can follow instantaneously the dictates of 
 their will, and put into execution a plan the moment 
 it is formed. Some few arrangements were necessary 
 before breaking up her little temporary home, and a 
 week must elapse before she could possibly leave Koe- 
 nigsberg. Meantime she must write to Sibyl and an- 
 nounce her intended departure. Her heart beat with a 
 new deliglit at the thought of meeting Sibyl, of the 
 welcome she would receive from her. 
 
 Singing and smiling to herself, Narka sat down to 
 write. It was only when she took the pen in her hand 
 tliat she remembered it was impossible for her to give 
 the true reason of this sudden resolution of going to live 
 in Paris. And yet it was absolutely necessary to give 
 some reason. She rested her chin in her hand, and sat 
 turning the pen in her fingers, considering what she 
 could say. It did not mvich matter what reason she 
 gave, provided it was a plausible enough one to satisfy 
 Sibyl for the moment. After long deliberation she de- 
 termined to say that people who knew assured her 
 tliat her talent would find much wider scope and larger 
 remuneration in Paris, and that she had finally made 
 up her mind to follow this indication, which coincided 
 with the longings of her own heart, and come and live 
 within reach of her beloved Sibyl's companionship. 
 Narka's conscience pricked her as she wrote this made- 
 up story, but the next moment she laughed at her 
 scruples. "I will tell her the truth soon enough," she
 
 134 Narha. 
 
 said to herself, "and meantime I must do what Basil 
 wishes." 
 
 By return of post she received an answer from Sibyl. 
 With a pleasant flutter at her hungry heart, she opened 
 the violet-scented envelop with its delicate gold cipher, 
 all so suggestive of Sibyl, and read : 
 
 "Oh, my Narka, what a wonderful surprise this is! 
 What a delight it will be to clasp you to my heart, 
 and gaze into those beautiful eyes that have been like 
 two fountains of love and sympathy to me all my life ! 
 And then the pleasure of seeing my boy in his aunt 
 Narka's arms, learning to love her and tyrannize over 
 her ! But, my precious one, have you sufficiently weigh- 
 ed the risks you run in leaving your present home for 
 a great wilderness like Paris ? It is quite true your 
 glorious voice and your rare musical genius would in 
 time secure you both fame and fortune; but you must 
 first be known, and it is verj"- uphill work in this great 
 Paris for a stranger to become known. I hear and 
 see a good deal of this kind of struggle, and many a 
 time when I have been watching the disappointments 
 and heart-sinkings of a young artist the thought of you 
 has brought the tears to my eyes, and I have thanked 
 God you were spared the misery of having to fight the 
 battle of life under such cruel conditions. For though 
 lessons are no doubt paid much more highly here than 
 in Koenigsberg, the necessaries of life also are very 
 much dearer. 
 
 " Darling, I feel it is kinder to tell you all this before 
 you take a step which may lead to bitter regret. Of 
 course, if you decide on coming, I can only rejoice self- 
 ishly for my own sake, seeing you will be like a breeze 
 of sweet air from Yrakow. Ever thine own Sibyl."
 
 Ncirka. 135 
 
 If Narka had been asked what effect this letter pro- 
 duced on her, she would have likened it to a sudden 
 chill. Yet there was no stint of tender expressions in 
 it from first to last, and it was perhaps inevitable that 
 Sibyl, who was the most impractical of human beings, 
 should be scared at the idea of one like Narka coming 
 to try her fortune in a place like Paris. Sibyl only 
 realized two manners of existence — her own, gliding 
 smoothly through broad, flowering meads, and that of 
 the people sweating and toiling to keep her chariot 
 wheels well oiled; she had no practical knowledge of 
 any intervening states. Narka repeated these reasons 
 to herself, and tried to take comfort in dwelling on the 
 caressing endearments that were sprinkled througli 
 Sibyl's letter like dew-drops over the dry dust of her 
 cold, repelling arguments.
 
 136 Narha. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Ivan Gorff arrived punctually at Koenigsberg, and 
 proved the kindest and most efficient escort. He was 
 one of those rare persons whose entire simplicity and 
 selflessness make you feel perfectly at ease ; his com- 
 panionship imposed no effort; he exacted nothing; he 
 only asked to be made use of. Narka, who had never 
 cared much for him, suspecting I'ightly that he cared 
 too much for her, had grown quite fond of him by the 
 end of the tete-a-tete journey. It was like having a 
 strong, sagacious dog always by her side, on the qxd 
 vive to do her bidding, never expecting thanks, but 
 radiantly happy when she threw him a bone in the 
 shape of an affectionate smile or a kind word. He 
 never alluded to her relationship to Basil, but it was 
 borne in upon her that he was aware of it. 
 
 On arriving in Paris, he found her very pretty lodg- 
 ings in the Rue Chaillot, with a salon that overlooked 
 gardens and beyond them the river. Ivan thought 
 them expensive, but lie made no observations; that was 
 her affair. 
 
 Narka was soon at home in her new abode. She 
 had that gift peculiar to some women of making beau- 
 tiful any i)lace where she dwelt. Her rooms were very 
 simply furnished, but lier grand Plyel piano, covered 
 with its Turkish cloth, a rich piece of Muscovite em- 
 broidery in gold and silver and many-colored silks, 
 gave an air of splendor to the salon; llowers and plants
 
 JSfarha. 137 
 
 set on every available spot lent it an aspect of refine- 
 ment, and books spread about on the tables suggested 
 that intellectual interest whicli was never absent where 
 Narka was. She took pains to make the rooms attract- 
 ive, Basil was to meet her here, and as the frame sets 
 oflP the picture, so would she borrow some additional 
 charm from the help of harmonious surroundings. 
 
 Sibyl had not said a word to her of his nomination 
 to the Russian Embassy. "She means to let it come 
 on me as a great surprise," thought Narka, with a plea- 
 sant consciousness of being herself much deeper in 
 Basil's secret. 
 
 Sibyl's absence from town at this juncture was rather 
 a relief; but Narka was impatient to see Marguerite, 
 and her first expedition was to the Rue du Bac. She 
 learned to her disapx^ointment that Sceur Marguerite 
 had been sent to Havre a month ago, and it was quite 
 uncertain when she would return. 
 
 Narka found herself, consequently, as much alone 
 in Paris as if she had strayed into the Sahara; for Ivan 
 Gorff, as soon as he had done everything that was with- 
 in his power for her, went back to Russia. 
 
 The weather was intensely cold; the winter was an 
 exceptionally severe one; and Narka now understood 
 Sibyl's appai'ently incredible assertion that in Paris the 
 cold was more cruel than in Russia. In Russia you 
 were protected against it by thick walls, and fires that 
 were like furnaces ; but here in Paris the wind that 
 blew with a shrill blast from the north pierced the 
 thin walls, too porous to keep it out, and whistled 
 through chinks in the doors and windows, until it seem- 
 ed to blow as hard indoors as out. Narka, who had 
 not yet found out Avhat a costly luxury a good fire was 
 in Paris, piled on the logs in her three rooms unspar-
 
 138 Narha. 
 
 ingly. She spent her time between singing and read- 
 ing and dreaming, and fought against the cold with a 
 blazing hearth. 
 
 So one month sped away. She was at the piano 
 one morning, singing a Russian ballad, when the door 
 of the salon opened, then closed. Narka took no 
 notice, thinking it was Eudoxie, her bofi7ie, with the 
 newspaper; but when she finished her song some one 
 cried, "Brava! brava!" and before she had time to 
 turn round, two arms were hugging her backwai'd, 
 and a face under a stiff white head-gear was pressed 
 against hers. 
 
 "Marguerite !" Narka stood up, and returned the ca- 
 i*ess with genuine delight. 
 
 These two had often wondered how it would be when 
 they met; whether the memory of those last days at 
 Yrakow, so jjregnant with events which had influ- 
 enced the destinies of both, would come between them 
 like a presence. And now they met, and Marguerite 
 was looking up into Narka's face with eyes full of wist- 
 ful tenderness, and unabashed simplicity, and the in- 
 nocent gladness of a child. But, with that intuition 
 which sometimes belongs to children, she saw that the 
 memory of those days had rushed upon Narka with a 
 kind of poignant consciousness. 
 
 "Do you know," she said, still looking up with her 
 bright brown eyes, " I feel as if we were a pair of ghosts 
 meeting in the other world." 
 
 "We are in another world than the one we parted in," 
 replied Narka; " I believe we both of us died a death at 
 Yrakow before we left it." 
 
 "But we came to life again, didn't we?" asked Mar- 
 guerite, eagerly. 
 
 "I supi^ose we must have," replied Narka; "though
 
 JSFarka. 139 
 
 you don't look a bit like a person who liad ever been dead 
 and buried." 
 
 They sat down near the fire ; Narka threw on a fresh 
 block, and made a hospitable blaze. 
 
 " How pretty your room is, and what a splendid view 
 of the sky you have !" said Marguerite, glancing toward 
 the windows, and round at the flowers and the home- 
 like touches visible everywhei*e. Then, with a sudden 
 change from gay to grave, " Oh, dear Narka," she ex- 
 claimed, " what you have suffered since we met ! Many 
 a time I have wondered how you lived through it." 
 
 "Yes, it is wonderful what we can live through, some 
 of us. I must be very hard to kill, I su^jpose." 
 
 "That time in the prison! The very thought of it 
 turned life into a horrible dream. I used to go about 
 my work as if I were in a nightmare. Dear, I do be- 
 lieve that I prayed for you with every bx'eath I drew 
 all those dreadful months." 
 
 Narka's features contracted with pain-, she opened her 
 lips as if to speak, but they quivered and closed again. 
 After wrestling for a moment with herself, "Perhaps 
 it was those prayers that kept me from going mad," 
 she said, "for it was like being in hell. I never look 
 back at it. If I did, even now, it would send me out of 
 my mind." Then, seeing her own shuddering horror 
 reflected in Marguerite's face, "Let us not talk about 
 it," she said. "Tell me about yourself. You look 
 much stronger than you ever did at Yrakow, and you 
 look so happy !" 
 
 ' ' I am so happy !" 
 
 "Are you, dear? Well, I suppose the martyrs on 
 the rack would have said they were very happy if the 
 pagans had questioned them." 
 
 Marguerite laughed. "I can't tell what the martyrs
 
 140 Narha. 
 
 would have said, not being one myself, any more than 
 you are a pagan. I only know that I am as happy as 
 the day is long." 
 
 "And you regret nothing?" 
 
 " Nothing on this earth !" She opened out her hands, 
 palms upward, with an emphatic gesture. 
 
 "Yet the life you are leading is that of a common 
 servant!" Narka said, in a tone of incredulity. "Sibyl 
 told me the Sisters themselves described the hardships 
 as dreadful." 
 
 "They exaggerated the hardships — they always do; 
 what they never exaggerate is the happiness. I don't 
 believe any one in this world could be happier than I 
 am. I would not exchange my lot with the most 
 envied one on earth." 
 
 "Thank God!" Narka murmured, almost involun- 
 tarily. There was a moment of sudden consciousness 
 to both, and then, by a common impulse, the two wo- 
 men bent forward and kissed each other. 
 
 "It is wonderful to hear you say that. Marguerite," 
 Narka said, as if this tacit understanding had set her 
 free to enter frankly on the subject. "How can you 
 like being a peasant, and carrying burdens on your 
 shoulders all day ?" 
 
 " I love the burdens, and love, you know, makes every 
 thing light and easy." 
 
 "Your old theory. But for all the love in the world 
 there are things that you must miss — music that you 
 were so fond of, and flowers that you so delighted in. 
 How you used to revel in the winter garden at 
 Yrakow !" 
 
 "Yes; but I don't miss anything. I am quite satis- 
 fied with the music in church on Sundays, and the can- 
 ticles the children sing in the school ; and I'm not sure
 
 , JSTarka. 141 
 
 that a hospital ward or a sick-room is not as good as 
 a garden to me." 
 
 Narka held up her hands. "It all sounds so un- 
 natural!" 
 
 "So it would be if it were not my vocation. That is 
 what makes it natviral and delightful." 
 
 "I could understand it in a measure if all this dis- 
 comfort and sacrifice on your side lessened the misery 
 of the world," said Narka; "hut it doesn't; it never 
 will; the cruelty of life will remain just as universal 
 for all your sacrifice; you will never do away with 
 suffering." 
 
 "God forbid! What would become of the world if 
 suffering were done away with ? There would be an 
 end of heroism, of so much that makes life beautiful. 
 Suffering is the salt that keeps human nature from cor- 
 rupting. Besides, salt or not, it is the law, and there is 
 no escape from it. But it is not the svxffering itself that 
 is so bad ; it is the revolt against it. Human ^lature is 
 in rebellion against suffering, just as science is against 
 pain. And it is a vicious circle from which there is no 
 escaping — the more science rebels against physical 
 pain, the more moral pain increases. If people did not 
 rebel so fiercely against it, pain would lose half its 
 sting. Don't you think, now, for instance, that it 
 would be much better to bear the natural pain of dis- 
 ease, and be content with the legitimate means of i-elief, 
 than to escape from it by drugs that destroy conscious- 
 ness, and end by destroying the moral strength, so that 
 human beings are reduced to the state of animals, with- 
 out nerve or i*eason to bear up under their suffering ?" 
 
 "You would have us all turn stoics, and, like that 
 Spartan man, stand and grin while the fox eats into our 
 vitals."
 
 142 Narha. , 
 
 "I would have us bear our pain like Christians, 
 instead of running away from it like cowards." 
 
 "You are behind your age, dear Marguerite," said 
 Narka, with a smile. "The triumph of science is to 
 abolish pain." 
 
 "The triumph of charity is to alleviate it; and it is 
 better to alleviate it with love and help than to drug it 
 with morphine." 
 
 "That sounds admirable as a theory," said Narka, 
 with a touch of the old scorn, ' ' but it is a fallacy ; it is 
 like your dream of reforming the world by love. You 
 must first call in hate ; hate must clear the ground 
 before love can build. Society, as it exists, is an organ- 
 ized system of murder of the majority by an omnip- 
 otent minority. That old machinery must be smashed 
 and swept away before love can come in and raise a 
 new order of things." 
 
 "Hate would be a dreadful foundation to build on," 
 said Marguerite. "Hate is suicidal; it destroys itself 
 and everything else. It would be like building on a 
 volcano. Oh, Narka, I will convert you into believing 
 in love!" she exclaimed, vehemently ; and she laid her 
 hand, once so dainty, now coarsened by work, on Nar- 
 ka's arm, and gave her an angry shake. "What ails 
 you that you can't believe in love ?" 
 
 "I wish I could, but — one can't become a child 
 again. To ask me to believe in love as the factor that 
 governs the world is like asking me to believe in the 
 fairies." 
 
 "How strange!" Marguerite murmured. "Not to 
 believe in love is like not believing in God; for God is 
 love." 
 
 " Your God, perhaps." 
 
 " Oil, Narka! Then tell me, if God gave you happi-
 
 Navka. 143 
 
 ness, everything you desire, would that make you be- 
 liev^e in Him, in His goodness ?" 
 
 " I suppose it would help nie. Everybody is a better 
 Christian for being made happy." 
 
 Marguerite threw up her hands and burst out laugh- 
 ing. "What theology! Did you ever read of a saint 
 who was sanctified by having everything liis own way? 
 For that is what you understand by happiness ? Oh, 
 Narka,what a dreadful doctrine ! Why, surely you know 
 as well as I do that suffering is the road to God; that 
 the more we suffer, the greater our likeness to our Lord 
 Himself ?" 
 
 " In that case I am as like to Him as any saint ever 
 canonized," said Narka, with a ring of passion in her 
 voice, ' ' for I have suffered as much as any saint you 
 pray to; but it hasn't sanctified me, not tliat I know of, 
 unless, perchance, it be part of divine justice to make 
 sufi^ering mei'itorious, without consent or merit in the 
 suiferer." 
 
 Marguerite was silent a moment. ' ' I'm not sure but 
 it may be so," she said, musingly; "I sometimes think 
 that the mere condition of suffering has a saving power 
 of its own." She remembered Narka's father and 
 brother cruelly murdered, her mother's heart broken, 
 and then that dungeon that was "like being in hell." 
 She could not argue with wounds like these. Neither, 
 perhaps, would God. A great poet says, "Amer*, c'est 
 la moitie de croire.'''' It would have been nearer the 
 truth if he had said, ^'Soiiffrir, c'est la moitie de croire.''^ 
 
 "Are there no pleasures at all in your life?" asked 
 Narka, irrelevantly. 
 
 ' ' No pleasures ? Why, everything is a pleasure ! It 
 was an intense pleasure just now to see a sick child gob- 
 ble up a pudding I had made for it. I committed glut-
 
 144 JSFarJca. 
 
 tony by proxy looking at it. I must tell you," she said, 
 confidentially, and assuming an air of innocent self-im- 
 portance, "I have developed quite a genius for cook- 
 ing. My puddings and tisanes are in great request, 
 and I have invented a poultice that is the delight of all 
 our rheumatic old women." 
 
 Na-rka was amused, and in her secret soul a little 
 disgusted. She could sympathize, at least intellectu- 
 ally, Avith the sviblime ambition that aimed at revolu- 
 tionizing tlie world by love, but she could not enter 
 into the glory of making slops and poultices. It was 
 disenchanting to see Marguerite's grand vocation de- 
 generate into such performances, to see her gifts and 
 graces lowered to such vulgar service. 
 
 "You are not a bit changed, Marguerite," she said, 
 observing her cuinously ; "always the same funny mix- 
 ture of the natural and the supernatural. You super- 
 naturalize everything without growing the least super- 
 natural yourself."* 
 
 "Indeed, I should hope not!" Marguerite laughed 
 merrily. "I should frighten the wits out of my poor 
 people if I turned supernatural. But you must come 
 to see me. I want to show you to Soeur Jeanne, our 
 Sceur Superieure, and to let you see the schools and 
 everything. You ivill come, won't you ?" 
 
 "Of coui-se I will, dear," said Narka, amused at her 
 earnestness. 
 
 "I have heard nothing about your plan of life, dear 
 Narka, or what you are busy with." 
 
 "I have been busy doing notliing, so far," said Nar- 
 ka, a little embarrassed how to explain her life of idle- 
 ness and apparent ease. " I feel as if I were lying half 
 asleep in a boat that had drifted into port after a storm." 
 
 "Let yourself drift; you will be all the better for
 
 Narka. 145 
 
 liavii)^ taken a rest wlieu you begin to work. Of course 
 you must wait, anyhow, till Sibyl finds i)upils for 
 you ?" 
 
 "I don't see how I am to find them by myself," Nar- 
 ka answered, evasively. She would have gladly spoken 
 out, and told everything, for there was that in Mar- 
 guerite which invited confidence and inspired absolute 
 trust, and at this juncture her sympathy would have 
 been delicious; but Narka remembered Basil's desire for 
 secrecy yet a little while, and was silent. 
 
 Basil's name had not been mentioned, nor Father 
 Christopher's. Many things had not been mentioned 
 that both longed to speak of; but they kissed and part- 
 ed, content to leave unspoken things that were unspeak- 
 able. 
 10
 
 146 Narka. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 In the middle of January Sibyl returned to town. 
 She sent to Narka the day after her arrival, asking her 
 to come that afternoon and see her. 
 
 Narka's heart beat fast as she crossed the court of 
 the H6tel de Beaucrillon, while the bell clanged loudly 
 to announce her visit. A glow of hospitable warmth 
 embraced her in the hall; jjalms and flowering plants 
 spi-ead a fragrance around that completed the illusion 
 of a summer climate in midwinter, and her step fell 
 softly on the thick pile of the scarlet carpet as she 
 ascended the wide staircase, where ancestoi's of the de 
 Beaucrillons looked down on her on either side in 
 armor and hoops and wigs. One glance from the 
 threshold showed her the whole aspect of the boudoir, 
 whose folding-doors stood open: the pale blue velvet 
 hangings, the Aubusson carpet, the crystal bowls and 
 vases filled with flowers, and amidst these luxurious 
 surroundings Sibyl reclining on a couch. 
 
 With a scream of delight Sibyl jumped up and flew 
 with outstretched arms to embrace her friend. She 
 clas}^)ed her, and kissed her again and again with every 
 expression of endearment. The excitement of the meet- 
 ing, the joy of being thus welcomed by Sibyl, by Basil's 
 sister, had flushed Narka, and the pink glow, delicate 
 as a sea-shell, gave a peculiar brilliancy to her blue- 
 black eyes, now liquid with tender eniotion. 
 
 "My Narka!'' Sibyl exclaimed, in fond delight; and 
 laying her hands on Narka's shoulders, she put her gen-
 
 Ncirka. 147 
 
 tly from lier to get a better view of lier. "You are 
 positively more beautiful tliaii ever. And oh, dui-ling, 
 after all you have gone through, I dreaded to find your 
 beauty quite desti"oyed!" 
 
 Narka grew suddenly pale, and a tremor of the lips 
 warned Sibyl that she must not lightly touch that 
 wound. 
 
 "And your baby?" Narka said, looking round, as 
 if she expected to find the little creature somewhere 
 amongst the flowers. 
 
 Sibyl struck a gong, and in a minute there entered 
 a large, blooming Bourguignonne with a marvellous 
 head-gear, carrying a bundle of white muslin and pink 
 ribbons. Sibyl seized the bundle, and with a pretty 
 gesture of bestowal placed it in Narka's arms. It was a 
 delicious baby, just now moist and scarlet from its sleep, 
 but not a bit cross ; it crowed and gurgled to Narka, and 
 let itself be cuddled and kissed without struggling away, 
 as is the habit of babies. Narka was satisfactorily 
 enthusiastic over the paragon, and Sibyl was radiant. 
 But the baby, having played its part, intimated a wish 
 to retii*e, and had to be carried away. Then M. de 
 Beaucrillon was inquired for, and Sibyl's health dis- 
 cussed, and every obvious question asked and answered, 
 and the two friends found themselves face to face, con- 
 scious as people are who are full of feelings they must 
 not betray, and of thoughts they must not put into 
 words. 
 
 "Dear Narka," Sibyl began, throwing back her lace 
 sleeves and clasping her hands, "I have a wonderful 
 piece of news to tell you ; it is about Basil." 
 
 "Ah!" said Narka, and she blushed. 
 
 "Oh, good news," Sibyl added, quickly. "He is 
 coming to Paris, and^ — he is going to be married !"
 
 148 Narka. 
 
 Narka said "Ah!" again, accompanied with a pan- 
 tomime of surprise. 
 
 "Yes. Poor Basil! after all the worry he has gone 
 through, he is going to he happy at last. You remem- 
 ber Max'ie Krinsky, who used to take dancing lessons 
 with us at St. Petersburg ? She was four years young- 
 er than either of us, so we did not much notice her; 
 she is now nearly eighteen, a dear little thing, pretty, 
 accomplished, and her fortune is enormous. This is 
 a great blessing, for, with all the drains he has on him- 
 self, my father can't do much during his life for Basil." 
 
 "And they are engaged?" said Narka, speaking 
 calmly. 
 
 "Not yet officially; but he made his court at St. 
 Petersburg, and my father spoke to Prince Krinsky, 
 who was delighted, and immediately asked that Basil 
 might be appointed secretary to the Embassy here. 
 The Empress was very unwilling to part with him; but 
 when she heard of the marriage she at once consented, 
 and was most kind. As to the Emperor, he could not 
 have been kinder if Basil had been a member of the im- 
 perial family. I am so happy I can hardly believe it is 
 all real." 
 
 A valet brought in the tea-tray, and Sibyl, voluble 
 and excited, sat down before it, and busied herself with 
 the pretty preliminaries for dispensing the fragrant 
 hospitalities of a Lilliputian silver pot. 
 
 "I have been ruminating a little plan in my head 
 ever since I heard this great news — that is three days 
 ago," she went on, popping the sugar into the cups. 
 "The 16th will be Marie's birthday, and I want to make 
 a fete that day to introduce her as his fiancee to our 
 friends. I wonder what would be best — a ball, or a 
 soiree musicale f What do you think ?"
 
 Karka. 149 
 
 "I am a poor judge of such things, dear Sibyl," said 
 Narka. 
 
 The tone, more than the words, reminded Sibyl what 
 a mocking sound any merrymaking must have in Nar- 
 ka's ears — Nai*ka, who had passed through such hor- 
 rors only a little while ago, and who was still in mourn- 
 ing for her mother. She laid down the tiny teapot, 
 and went over and put her arms round the girl's neck 
 and kissed her. 
 
 "Forgive me, my sweet one; I ought to have re- 
 membered," she said, softly. 
 
 Narka returned her caress. They sipped their tea, 
 and soon Sibyl went back to the subject of Basil's mar- 
 riage. This at least must be interesting to Narka, and 
 would not jar upon her. 
 
 "Marie is delightfully in love," she said; "it is 
 very pretty to see how unconsciously she betrays her- 
 self. I went to the Embassy this morning, and the 
 moment I appeared she blushed up like a red rose, 
 and every time I mentioned Basil's name she grew 
 scarlet. I only hope Basil is thoroughly in love with 
 her." 
 
 Narka had gone through many ordeals, had been 
 trained to stand and smile while the fox ate into her 
 flesh, but it seemed to her that her powers of self-com- 
 mand had never before been put to so severe a test. 
 She did not believe a word of this engagement; of 
 course not; it was very likely a scheme arranged by 
 the Prince, and Basil might have played a consenting 
 part in order to deceive him and escape; it was quite 
 impossible there could be anything more in the story. 
 Still, the very idea of such a scheme being on foot 
 against her happiness was enough to make ber tremble. 
 There were tremendous forces in league against Basil,
 
 150 Narha. 
 
 and things that were impossible sometimes happened; 
 treachery might accomplish what open opposition failed 
 to do. She could not shut her eyes to the fact that 
 Marie Krinsky might be a formidable rival, young and 
 pretty as she was, as well as high-born, wealthy, and 
 passionately in love with Basil. Horrible possibilities 
 flashed through Narka's mind as she sat choking down 
 the jealous terrors that made her feel by turns savage 
 and sick, while Sibyl dilated complacently on the joys 
 in store for Basil with another woman. She did her 
 utmost to appear interested, but she only succeeded in 
 appearing indifferent; the part of a responsive listener 
 was beyond her ; she played it badly. Sibyl saw that a 
 barrier of some sort had risen between them. There 
 was something the matter with Narka ; there was none 
 of the sisterly abandon nor the exuberant delight at 
 their reunion that she had looked forward to. Was it 
 that Narka was hurt to find her so elated about Basil's 
 new happiness, instead of being entirely occupied with 
 the pleasui'e of meeting her ? This was a little unrea- 
 sonable, but perhaps it was natural. With the tact 
 that she excelled in, Sibyl glided gently from Basil and 
 Marie Krinsky to various other points of interest in her 
 own life, and then, as if thankful to dismiss these sub- 
 jects and enter on the one that was most in her 
 thoughts, "And now, dearest," she said, taking Narka's 
 hand on her knee and clasping it, "I have told you 
 all there is to tell about myself, and I want to hear 
 about you." 
 
 She put a series of questions to Narka about her 
 health, her experience at Koenigsberg, her success there, 
 her pupils, her singing, her present arrangements; and 
 Narka answered them all as she could. When Sibyl 
 heard the rent she was paying she said, " Oh!" and bit
 
 Narha. 151 
 
 her lip, and held it bitten, as if arrested and surpi'ised 
 beyond power of further speech. 
 
 "I thought it dear," Narka remarked, feeling very- 
 hypocritical; "but I could not stay at the hotel. It 
 was altogether too dear. Everything is very dear." 
 
 "I warned you of that, c/teVie," Sibyl said, letting go 
 her underlip. 
 
 "Oh yes, you warned me; if I come to grief, I have 
 no one to blame but myself." 
 
 There was certainly something wrong with Narka, 
 Sibyl felt it a relief when M. de Beaucrillon came in 
 and cut short the tete-a-tete. 
 
 M. de Beauci'illon had not liked Narka at Yrakow; 
 but he met her now with the most cordial warmth. 
 There was more than courtesy, there was genuine kind- 
 liness, in the way he raised her hand to his lips, and 
 held it in his firm grasp while he bade her welcome to 
 his home. 
 
 "I called on you an hour ago, hoping to carry you 
 back with me," he said ; "but you had just gone out." 
 
 Narka felt her self-respect raised by the deferential 
 kindness of this knightly gentleman. He called her 
 Narka, which he had never done before. 
 
 "He will be a friend to me," she thought, remember- 
 ing how soon she might have to put his fi'iendship to 
 the tes-t.
 
 152 Nai'ka. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Narka was very miserable after this first meeting 
 with Sibyl, that she had looked forward to so longingly. 
 She would not confess to herself that she attached 
 any importance to that story of Basil's engagement; 
 still it haunted her and poisoned her peace of mind. 
 She could not sleep. In the middle of the night she 
 got up and struck a light, and by way of calming her- 
 self read over Basil's letters. They were few, and they 
 were generally short, and always guarded in expression ; 
 cold love-letters, most lovers would have called them; 
 but to Nai'ka they were all-sufficing;,; they were written 
 as a man whispers when the enemy is listening to catch 
 every word he says. This, she knew, was why he had 
 not written now to tell her of his immediate arrival. 
 Still he might have contrived to make her a sign some- 
 how. Then, again, she remembered how necessary 
 caution was at such a crisis, how fearful he must be of 
 exciting suspicion. She took out her ring, and the sight 
 of it seemed to rebuke and reassure her. She kissed it, 
 and blew out her candle and went back to bed. 
 
 "I am like that woman," she said to herself, "who 
 declared she did not believe in ghosts, but that she was 
 mortally afraid of them." 
 
 Two days elapsed. Narka was at her piano when 
 the door opened and let in a sudden putf of violets. 
 The violets announced Sibyl before she had time to an- 
 nounce herself by a joyous exclamation. 
 
 " He will be here on the 15th ! In seven days! Can 
 you believe it ? Can you believe it ?"
 
 Narha. 153 
 
 She kissed Narka, and sank down on the sofa and 
 pulled off her gloves: the first thing- Sibyl did when 
 she wanted to talk was to pull off her gloves. Those 
 nervous, dimpled, bejewelled little hands played a great 
 part in her discourse; they had a language of their 
 own, without whose help much of her speech would 
 have been incomplete. 
 
 ' ' Narka, put on your bonnet and come off with me. 
 I can't enjoy my happiness fully unless I have you to 
 share it. Gaston is an angel ; but he is a man ; he can't 
 understand. No one but you can sympathize with me, 
 and feel what it will be to me to have Basil free, and 
 married, and safe out of mischief. I have been to the 
 Krinskys'. Marie is radiant. But we have no time to 
 lose to get ready the soiree for the 16th. It falls on a 
 Wednesday, which is unlucky, as that is my day. It 
 will be a bore if he comes in the afternoon. But he will 
 most likely ai'rive by the evening train. You know the 
 16th is Marie's birthday ? I am going to Worth's to 
 order my dress. Put on your things and come with me. 
 It will amuse you, dearest. Come !" 
 
 Narka did as she was told: fate seemed to be making 
 sport of her, making her play comedy in spite of her- 
 self. She was in no mood to be amused, and yet Sibyl 
 was right, the ordering of the dress did amuse her. It 
 amused her to see the mobility with which her compan- 
 ion sprang away fi'om Basil and became absorbed in 
 the question of toilette. It amused her to see the devout 
 attention which the man dress-maker bestowed on the 
 matter. The consultation lasted half an hour, and was 
 conducted on both sides with the gravity befitting the 
 importance of the subject. 
 
 "Madame la Comtesse may rest satisfied; her dress 
 -will be the event of the season," Worth remarked, with
 
 154 Narha. 
 
 quiet assurance, as he fluug aside the costly stuffs he 
 had been coiling- and looping to illustrate his idea. 
 
 Sibyl was flushed, but cheerful and confident. ' ' And 
 now, dearest," she said, in Russian, to Narka, "you 
 must order a dress"; and without giving her time to 
 answer she turned to Worth: "Mademoiselle is in 
 mourning, as you see, but she wants you to make her a 
 white dress that can be worn at a soiree de contrat.'''' 
 
 The potentate of fashion fixed his eyes on Narka, as 
 if to take in the characteristics of line and color that 
 were to guide him. He called for white tissues, and 
 proceeded to roll out velvets and gauzes round Narka as 
 if she had been a statue. He then made notes and lines 
 on his carnet, and handing it to her, "I think, made- 
 moiselle, something in this style will suit you ?" he said. 
 
 Narka uttered an exclamation of surprise. It might 
 have been taken from the garment she had invented for 
 herself at Yrakow. 
 
 "It will require a little relief," observed Worth; "a 
 gold buckle here on the tunic, and a clasp on the shoul- 
 der fastening the long sleeves. Would that be too great 
 a concession to ask V 
 
 "Not the least," interposed Sibyl. "Your Russian 
 gold ornaments will suit beautifully," she said, turning 
 to Narka. "You must bring them when you come to 
 try on the dress." 
 
 When they got out on the stairs, Narka said: " How 
 foolish of you, Sibyl ! My white cashmere would have 
 done perfectly. This is only a second edition of it, and 
 will cost a hundred times more." 
 
 "If Worth could hear you !" Sibyl's laugh rang out 
 clear on the staircase. "Nonsense! I want you to look 
 your best. You are going to sing. I have decided for 
 a concert instead of a ball, and it was chiefly on your
 
 Ncirlca. 155 
 
 account. I want you to shine out as a star to all my 
 friends. Marie is going- to sing with our cousin Henri 
 de Beaucrillon, and I shall have several good artists, 
 but you will outshine them all. Mind, you are to be 
 in splendid voice !" 
 
 They drove about giving orders at the shops for some 
 hours. Narka had to go back with Sibyl and spend the 
 evening. After dinner she had to sing. Sibyl de- 
 clared her voice w^as finer than ever, but M. de Beau- 
 crillon remembered how that love song at Yrakow had 
 melted the heart in his breast, and he felt that though 
 the instrument was still beautiful, the passionate soul 
 which had inspired it that night was absent or silent. 
 
 Every day for the next six days Narka was at the 
 Rue St. Dominique almost from morning till night. 
 There was no escaping from Sibyl. "I can't do with- 
 out you, dearest," she repeated ; " I want your sympathy 
 and your calm strength to support me through this ner- 
 vous time." 
 
 Madame de Beaucrillon's house was the apex of the 
 world in which she moved ; the domestic events which 
 had closed it for a time had been bewailed as social ca- 
 lamities, and the announcement that it was going to 
 be opened on so brilliant an occasion was received 
 with general satisfaction. Sibyl wanted Narka to take 
 the management of the musical jirogramme; but Nar- 
 ka refused; she knew it would bring her into imme- 
 diate, perhaps intimate, contact with Princess Marie, 
 and thei'e were limits to what she could bear. She was 
 in constant terror of meeting Marie at the Rue St. 
 Dominique ; but fortune spared her that trial, although 
 Sibyl had made more than one appointment to introduce 
 them. She was presented to a number of other ladies, 
 who assured her they were ' ' ravished to make her ac-
 
 156 Karha. 
 
 quaintance." It would have been pleasant enough to be 
 welcomed by these high-bred French women if Narka 
 had not felt that she was under false appearances. 
 Would they have been ravished to make her acquaint- 
 ance if they had known she was going to carry off the 
 prize so many of tliem were coveting for a daughter or a 
 sister ? 
 
 Since that letter from the Prince announcing Basil's 
 arrival for the 15th there had been no news from St. 
 Petersburg. Narka would not own to herself that this 
 silence made her uneasy, that she was frightened, in 
 fact. But she was. 
 
 On Tuesday afternoon, the day before Basil was to 
 arrive, she was with Sibyl, when the servant brought 
 in a telegram. It was from tlie Prince: '''' Expect Basil 
 Wednesday.''^ 
 
 "How delightful!" exclaimed Sibyl; "he will come 
 to find us all en fete to Welcome him ! If only my 
 father had said 'morning' or 'evening'! It will be 
 tiresome if he arrives in the evening just as the people 
 are flocking in. Dear me, how dreadful this uncer- 
 tainty is!" She moved about, and sat down, and got 
 up again, and Avas fluttei'ed and ecstatic and alarmed 
 and impatient all in a minute. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon thrust his hands into his pockets, 
 and leaned against the mantel, and gazed with serio- 
 comic gravity at his wife. "How you Russians do 
 dramatize every crisis in life !" he said, putting his head 
 to one side with a movement that resembled Margue- 
 rite, and he turned to Narka. The expression of her 
 face startled him. There was no dramatizing there; 
 there was poignant emotion that she was straining every 
 nerve to keep under control. What need was there for 
 this fierce effort at self-restraint ?
 
 Narlca. 157 
 
 "There is always something about that girl that I 
 caunot understand," M. de Beaucrillon said within him- 
 self, and he looked away. 
 
 At Sibyl's request he took up the railway guide, 
 and made it evident to her that Basil must come by a 
 morning train, so that the excitement of the soiree 
 would not be made too overpowering by the emotion of 
 receiving him in the midst of five hundred guests. 
 Sibyl wanted Narka to come and sleep at her house ou 
 the eve of the concert; but Narka had a series of reasons 
 — all foolish ones, Sibyl thought— to prove that this 
 would be a most inconvenient arrangement for her. 
 In her secret soul she was convinced that Basil would 
 arrive by the early train, and come straight to her be- 
 fore going to Sibyl. The idea of meeting him in 
 Sibyl's presence was too dreadful to be contemplated. 
 She could never go through the ordeal without betray- 
 ing herself. And yet, after all, she reflected, did it mat- 
 ter so very much ? A few days, a few hours probably, 
 sooner or later, and the crisis must come. 
 
 When it came, how would Sibyl meet it? This ques- 
 tion kept perpetually recurring to Narka, and filled her 
 with an anguish of uncertainty which even the joy of 
 meeting Basil could not banish from her mind. 
 
 Wednesday morning dawned, and it found her watch- 
 ing. She had been too excited to sleep. She rose fe- 
 verish and unrefreshed and spent the morning coming 
 and going from the window. Every cab that drove up 
 the street made her heai-t leap. But the eai'ly hours 
 went by, noon came, and no Basil, and no news from 
 Sibyl. 
 
 "He will come by the evening train, and I shall 
 have to meet him befoi*e Sibyl!" she thought. And 
 then a terror seized upon her, and she resolved not to
 
 158 Narha. 
 
 go. But this panic did not last. It was quickly follow- 
 ed by a feeling of defiance, and a longing to let Sibyl 
 and all the world know that she was Basil's ^ancee, and 
 ready to brave the whole world rather than give him up. 
 
 The day dragged heavily on till evening, and then 
 it was time to dress. Narka coiled up her shining gold 
 hair, and robed herself in the wonderful white draperies 
 that Worth had combined out of soft and costly mate- 
 rials, and then clasped on her golden necklace and brace- 
 lets, and waited for the carriage to come for her. 
 
 As she beheld herself reflected in the long mirror 
 of the wardrobe, her heart exulted, not from any sense 
 of vulgar vanity — she was too proud and too chastened 
 by sorrow for so mean a vice as vanity — but she re- 
 joiced in her beauty for Basil's sake. " He will be glad 
 to see me looking well amongst other women," she said 
 to herself, with a soft thrill of happiness ; and the flush 
 of love and conscious power made her cheek glow. 
 
 When she reached the Rue St. Dominique, M. de 
 Beaucrillon had gone to meet Basil. Sibyl was dress- 
 ed, and sat watching impatiently for the return of the 
 brougham. Narka, though outwardly calm, was trem- 
 bling with excitement. 
 
 ' ' You will be the Queen of Beauty to-night as well 
 as the Queen of Song, my Narka," Sibyl exclaimed, in 
 frank admiration, when she beheld her. "How pleased 
 Basil will be to find you looking so well ! Come, and 
 let us see how the rooms look lighted. It will help to 
 pass the time while we are waiting. Stop! there is a 
 carriage driving in," She flew out to the landing, and 
 called out, "Sont-ce ces messieurs ?" 
 
 The groom of the chambers answered from the hall, 
 " M. le Comte has returned alone, Madame la Comtesse." 
 
 Presently M. de Beaucrillon came slowly up the stairs.
 
 Narha. 159 
 
 "What can it mean?" Sibyl asked, fluttered and 
 vexed. 
 
 "I dou't suppose it is the first time Basil has been 
 unpunctual to an appointment," her husband said, in 
 his solemn way; "the singular thing would be if he 
 were to keep one." 
 
 "He must have missed the train somewhere," said 
 Sibyl, "unless he was taken suddenly ill; but then he 
 would have telegraphed." 
 
 "He is not ill, ma cUhre amie; I will answer for 
 that; he is simply your brothei' — the best fellow in holy 
 Eussia, but born without the faculty of keeping an 
 appointment. Where is Nai'ka ?" 
 
 Narka, whose heart had begun to palpitate violently 
 at the prospect of seeing Basil appear in a moment, 
 had stood clutching the back of a chair until she heard 
 Sibyl's exclamation of disappointment, and then, re- 
 gaining possession of herself, she walked quietly on 
 toward the landing. The effect she produced on M. de 
 Beaucrillon was so great that she could not pretend 
 not to see it. He started, and for a second looked at 
 her, positively dazzled. For the first time in her young 
 life Narka realized that she possessed a sovereignty to 
 which men were ready to bow down. By the time she 
 had given him her hand, and he had raised it to his 
 lips, as was his graceful habit with her, Sibyl had join- 
 ed them; she was so agitated and full of her disappoint- 
 ment as to dispel the momentary bashf ulness that Narka 
 had felt under M. de Beaucrillon's unspoken admiration. 
 There were a few moments of excited talk, Sibyl asking 
 and answering a score of questions in one breath, and 
 then the carriages rolled in quickly one upon another, 
 and guests arrived in rapid succession. 
 
 Sibyl stood to receive them at the head of the stairs.
 
 160 Narka. 
 
 Narka escaped to the music-room, but Sibyl missed her 
 in a minute, and sent M. de Beaucrillon to bring her 
 back. He soon captured her, for the crowd was not 
 yet large enough to give her shelter, 
 
 "I have orders to take you, dead or alive," he said, 
 drawing her arm tli rough his, and marching her back 
 to Sibyl, "Must I hold you bodily in durance, or 
 will you be my prisoner on parole ?" 
 
 " I give my parole," she said. 
 
 He bowed and released her. 
 
 The gay and brilliant crowd kept streaming in, and 
 soon the spacious suite of salons was filled. At eleven 
 o'clock the concert began. It opened with a fine orches- 
 tral performance; then Marie Krinsky sang her duet; 
 this was followed by several other pieces, vocal and 
 instrumental; and then it was Narka's turn. The 
 suspense of the day, culminating in the disappointment 
 at the end of it, had so excited and exhausted her that 
 she felt incapable of singing a note; her tongue was 
 parclied, her throat felt as if it were paralyzed. When 
 M. de Beaucrillon went up and offered her his arm, she 
 did not move, but looked up at him entreatingly. 
 
 " I can't sing!" she said. 
 
 It seemed cruel to insist, but he felt sure that she 
 could. "Sibyl will be terribly disappointed," he said, 
 after a moment's hesitation. 
 
 Narka stood up. The movement, the sudden reso- 
 lution, seemed to say, "Then I will do it or die." 
 
 She took his arm and walked to the centre of the 
 platform. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, her great 
 lustrous eyes had a flame in them, her coral lips, clear 
 cut as a cameo against the ivory skin, were parted 
 tremulously, while an air of incomparable dignity and 
 modesty heightened the effect of her rare loveliness.
 
 JVcirka. 161 
 
 There was a profound liusli tlirougli the crowded 
 rooms; the orchestra played the opening accompaui- 
 ment, and Narka lifted up her voice and sang. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon was right. She could sing. After 
 the few notes assured her that she had command of 
 her instrument, her voice poured out like a crystal 
 stream, rising and swelling and ti'illing with as little 
 effort as a bird's. The audience were quite carried 
 away, and when the song was over they burst into a 
 salvo of rapturous applause. Sibyl drifted with her 
 serpentine grace across the platform and kissed Narka, 
 and other ladies, following this example, gathered about 
 her, kissing and congratulating. All round her people 
 wei*e exclaiming, "What genius !" "How beautiful she 
 is!" The gentlemen were clamoring for the honor of 
 being presented. It was one of those moments that 
 bi'ing with them a kind of intoxication to the calmest 
 and wisest. Yet there was something timid in the 
 glance of Narka's large dark eyes that seemed to depre- 
 cate all this homage and admiration. If only Basil 
 had been there to enjoy it and to justify it! Without 
 him, she felt the triumph was not wholly hers; she was 
 receiving it under false pretences. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon was charming. " Je suis tres fiere 
 de ma belle-sceur," he said, presenting her to a ven- 
 erable duchess whose smile was social distinction in the 
 great world. 
 
 Even in Basil's absence it was something to have 
 been thus welcomed by the friends to whom he would 
 soon present her as his wife. As she drove home, Nar- 
 ka Avas conscious that it had been a brilliant evening; 
 Sibyl had been perfect; everybody had welcomed and 
 admired her; and she was Basil's affianced wife. 
 11
 
 Id2 JSarka. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Two days went by, aud there was no news from 
 Basil. On the morning' of the third day tlie brougham 
 came from the Hotel de Beaucrillon with a message re- 
 questing Narka to come at once. Narka obeyed the 
 summons, full of anxiety as to its meaning. She found 
 Sibyl walking up and down the library in a state of vio- 
 lent though suppressed excitement. 
 
 "There ! read that," she said, drawing a letter fi'om 
 her pocket, and holding it out to Narka, without arrest- 
 ing her walk. 
 
 Narka, sick with suspense, sat down and read the let- 
 ter. It was from Prince Zorokoff. He had discovered 
 on the very eve of Basil's departure that the boy had 
 entangled himself in some promise of marriage to a wo- 
 man of low condition, and that this had been at the bot- 
 tom of his desire to get out of Russia. ' ' He tried to 
 deny it at first," wrote the Prince, "but I put the holy 
 image before him, and bade him swear the story was a 
 lie. He did not dare do it, and he ended by declaring 
 that it was true, and that he would never marry Marie 
 K. or any other \t^oman but the one he loved. I said 
 if he married her I would curse him. I gave him three 
 months to come to his senses and his duty. If that does 
 not do, I will have him circumscribed under surveil- 
 lance of the police at Kronstadt. The sight of the for- 
 tress will have a sobering effect." 
 
 Narka stilled a cry, and let the letter fall on her lap. 
 
 "Well," said Sibyl, coming up and standing before
 
 Narha. 163 
 
 her, "what do you say to this? The infatuated bo}'! 
 It must be some woman he met in Italy. And with a 
 foreign woman we are powerless. She can't be a Rus- 
 sian, or my father would have said so. If she were Rus- 
 sian, it would be easy to deal with her. A threat of the 
 knout would soon bring her on her knees." She shut 
 her right hand with a quick inwai'd movement that 
 was too expressive to be mistaken ; those soft, dimpled 
 hands were itching for the knout to scourge the wo- 
 man who had come between Basil and the pride of the 
 Zorokoffs. Sibyl was horrible to look at; her white 
 teeth showed between her parted lips; her words came 
 hissing; her blue eyes glittered — they never flashed- 
 when she was excited, they glittered — her features were 
 convulsed, her whole frame shaken with passion. Nar- 
 ka covered her face with her hands to shut out the sight. 
 
 "Oh, Sibyl !" she murmured. 
 
 "Yes, it is too loathsome to contemplate," cried Sibyl, 
 misunderstanding the gesture and the exclamation. 
 "Could you have believed Basil such a weak fool ? If 
 we even knew who and where this creature is, we might 
 buy her off. That is our only chance, as she is a for- 
 eigner. We must buy her off." 
 
 "But if she loves Basil—" Narka ventured, hesitating. 
 
 "Love him! A creature like that! Allans doner 
 Sibyl gave a laugh that sounded devilish. She looked 
 like an incarnate devil, or some avenging pythoness, 
 with her glittering eyes, and her small head reared, 
 the blue sheen of her satin dressing-gown shimmering 
 in snake-like folds round her tall figure. Narka could 
 not believe her senses. Was this the Sibyl she had loved 
 all her life and worshipped as the type of all that was 
 good and lovable ? — the Sibyl who was so tender to suf- 
 fering, so generous to her peasants, so indulgent to their
 
 164 • Narka. 
 
 vices, so ready to forgive their lies and thefts and wrong- 
 doings ? What evil spirit had entered into her ? And 
 if she knew the name of the woman against whom this 
 outburst of hate was directed, would the knowledge be 
 a welcome relief, or would it only turn the current of 
 her scorn and rage toward the culprit ? The look of 
 blank despair on Narka's face struck Sibyl even in the 
 midst of her passion. 
 
 "Oh, Narka," she cried, "if you feel this shame so 
 keenly, think what it must be for me!" and she sank 
 down beside Narka, and fell upon her neck, sobbing 
 hysterically. 
 
 • Narka, faint and sick at heart, waited till the storm 
 of grief, of fury, should have spent itself. Sibyl, who 
 knew that it was lier way to be silent when she felt most 
 deeply, was satisfied to lay her head upon that strong 
 and tender heart, and gave vent to her own passion in 
 floods of tears. 
 
 They had both been too much engrossed to notice the 
 clanging of the bell, announcing a visitor. Presently 
 the servant came in to say that the doctor was waiting 
 to see Madame la Comtesse. 
 
 Sibyl raised her head and wiped her eyes, and, with 
 that mobility which was one of her characteristics, in 
 an instant had regained complete possession of herself. 
 
 "I am coming," she said to the valet; and then, turn- 
 ing to Narka, ' ' We have been so full of this hox*ror 
 that I had not time to tell you baby is not well," she 
 said. ' ' I hope it is nothing serious, but I thought it 
 better to send for the doctor. Nai*ka, you must come 
 and stay with me for a few days, and help me to live 
 tlu'ough the first misery of this trial. I shall die if I 
 have not some one to help me with sympathy. Gaston 
 is shocked, but he can't enter into my feelings. The
 
 Narka. 165 
 
 brougham will take you home now, and you can put up 
 what you want, and come straight back. Oh !" slie ex- 
 claimed, looking into the girl's agonized face, "what 
 should I do without you to feel for me I" She kissed 
 her, and hurried out of the room. 
 
 But Narka had no notion of coming back to have her 
 own sufferings made tenfold bitterer by the sight of 
 Sibyl's hate and anger. By tlie time she had driven 
 home she was, indeed, unequal to the effort, if she had 
 been ever so anxious to make it. She sent a message 
 to Sibyl saying that she had nearly fainted on getting 
 to her own door, and must be quiet for that evening. 
 
 Poor Narka! An earthquake had come and shaken 
 the earth under her feet since morning, and shattered 
 her paradise to ruins. Was it possible it could be re- 
 built again ? Basil was now more fatally separated 
 from her than he had ever been before. There was no 
 chance of his escaping; the Prince would take care 
 of that. Had the Prince any idea, she wondered, who 
 the low woman was ? And if not, would it propitiate 
 him to hear that she was the one he had sheltered under 
 his roof, and called his child, and rescued from a cruel 
 captivity? 
 
 The day passed in a sort of stupor. It was only when 
 she lay down to rest that, in the silence of the night, 
 Narka awoke to the remembrance that apart from the 
 wreck of her hopes, and the blow that had crushed her 
 heart, other trials had overtaken her which would not 
 let her sit at home and weep. What was she to do 
 now ? How was she to live ? Practical dilemmas of 
 many kinds surrounded her; urgent difficulties were 
 pressing to be dealt with. She spent the night asking 
 herself how she was to meet them ; but the dawn bi'oke 
 and found the problem unsolved. Daylight seemed,
 
 166 Narha. 
 
 iudeed, only to magnify, by letting in a more vivid 
 mental light upon them, the troubles that had loomed, 
 dark enough, but still vague, during the long, sleepless 
 night. 
 
 She must leave her jjresent apartment, for one thing. 
 It was much too expensive for her means and pros- 
 pects now. She had been spending money freely, and 
 her funds were running low. And where was she to 
 find pupils ? Sibyl was her only resource, and her 
 whole soul writhed at the thought of having to depend 
 on Sibyl. Suddenly Narka x'emembered Marguerite. 
 
 "I will go to Marguerite," she said. And she rose 
 and dressed herself in the gray twilight of the winter's 
 mornina:.
 
 Narha. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Narka was just starting for La Villette, when a 
 vehicle stopped at the door. She looked out, and saw 
 Sibyl's brougham. Before there was time to consider 
 how she should endure this new ordeal, it was made 
 evident that Sibyl was not in the brougham, for the 
 footman jumped down with a note in his hand, and 
 disappeared under the porte cochere. Presently there 
 was a ring at the door. Eudoxie had gone out. "I 
 will not open," Narka thought. "It is no doubt asking 
 me to go to hex", and I can't go; I won't go." 
 
 The servant rang three times, and then gave it up. 
 The brougham drove away, and Narka, after waiting a 
 few minutes to make sure of its being at a safe distance, 
 Avent down-stairs. 
 
 Passing the lodge, the concierge came out and hand- 
 ed her a note. "The footman rang at mademoiselle's 
 door, but no one answered him," said the woman. 
 
 The note was from Sibyl. 
 
 " Come to me at once, dai'ling. I am in a sea of an- 
 guish. Baby has the small-pox ! I am half mad. 
 
 "Your own Sibyl." 
 
 "Poor little angel!" said Narka, with a pang. But 
 his illness at this crisis was a boon to her, inasmuch as 
 it would keep Sibyl away, and absorb her, and draw her 
 mind from the woman she wished to scourge. 
 
 It was a miserable morning. The rain had been fall-
 
 168 Karha. 
 
 ing heavily all niglit. Every rut and channel was turn- 
 ed into a pool, and a cold drizzly rain was still falling. 
 Narka had used cabs, and freely enough, since she had 
 been in Paris, but the stern reign of economy which 
 had suddenly set in reminded her that omnibuses were 
 a cheaper mode of conveyance; she asked her way to 
 the nearest station, but when she got there it was so 
 crowded that she had to push on to the counter for a 
 number, and then push her way out again. An omni- 
 bus was coming up ; as it slackened pace a crowd troop- 
 ed after it with their umbrellas spread, looking like a - 
 whale or some huge bird in the wake of a ship. They 
 looked intensely ridiculous "making tail." Narka did 
 not care to add her umbrella to the show: besides, she 
 might be kept waiting an hour for a seat. Was it not 
 better to take a cab at once? As she was balancing 
 the question in her mind, a gentleman close to her called 
 out: 
 
 " Will this take me to La Villette ?" 
 
 "No, monsieur," said the conductor. "The blue 
 omnibus there, with a correspondence." The gentle- 
 man hurried away, and Narka, with an inarticulate 
 exclamation of thankfulness for her escape, crossed the 
 street after him to where the blue omnibus was stand- 
 ing, empty; they got in almost together, and took seats 
 opposite one another. The stranger was a tall, lean 
 man, with a sallow complexion and marked features, 
 carefully dressed, with a certain air of distinction. 
 Narka more than once caught his eyes fastened upon 
 her. It so happened that they stopped at the same 
 place ; the stranger got out first, assisted her to alight, 
 touched his hat, and went on his way. 
 
 Narka stood in the middle of the street, waiting for a 
 break in the stream of carts and cabs to cross over. As
 
 Narka. I6d 
 
 she glanced eagerly right and left she descried, a little 
 higlier up, a small figure in the costume of a Sister of 
 Charity, waiting like herself to cross the busy thorough- 
 fare. There are certain situations in which even Mel- 
 pomene could not look dignified; for instance, hopping 
 over the puddles with petticoats slightly kilted on a 
 wet day; and yet as Narka watched Marguerite going 
 through this trying performance it did not seem any 
 more lacking in dignity than the steps and hops of a 
 little child. 
 
 "Narka!" exclaimed Marguerite, in glad surprise, 
 when they met on the foot-path. "How did you get 
 here? Did you walk?" 
 
 "No; I came in the omnibus. Whei'e are you com- 
 ing from ?" 
 
 "I have been to the Rue du Bac. I got an omnibus 
 to the Madeleine, with a correspondence, but when I 
 got out there was such a crowd I saw I should have to 
 wait an hour for a place. So I started off on foot. Life 
 is too short to be spent waiting for the omnibus. Oh, 
 that horrid man !" she exclaimed, casting a glance full of 
 something as near hatred as her sweet face could ex- 
 press at some one coming out of a shop. "I should like 
 to see that man flayed alive." 
 
 Narka followed the direction of the glance, and to 
 her surprise saw that the object of this murderous desire 
 was the gentleman who had been her vis-a-vis in the 
 omnibus. 
 
 " Who is that man ?" she asked, as the stranger passed 
 them. 
 
 "He is a Prussian; his name is Dr. Schenk. He stole 
 away our dear old dog Tempete, and put him to death. 
 Nobody saw him doing it, so we could not attack him, 
 but there is no doubt he did it. His business is to
 
 170 JSFarka. 
 
 bribe little boys — oui- boys — to catch dogs that he tries 
 experiments on. He ties them down, and cuts them 
 up, and tortui'es them alive. He is a fiend. " 
 
 "He is a surgeon, I suppose," said Narka. "He does 
 it in the interest of science." 
 
 "Nonsense! How can you talk like that, Narka? 
 It is pure wickedness, and he is a bad, cruel man." 
 
 "I don't want to defend vivisection ; I loathe it," said 
 Narka; "but it is necessary for science." 
 
 " Then science is wicked, and of the devil, and ought 
 to be done away with. It is getting to be the curse of 
 the woi'ld." 
 
 "What a little mediaeval bigot you are!" laughed 
 Narka. 
 
 ' ' Am I ? Well, I don't care. It makes ray heart burn 
 when I think of our poor gentle old Tempete, and I hate 
 your cruel science that tortures our dumb fellow-ser- 
 vants. I think a person who invents a good poultice 
 to relieve a poor aching body of man or beast is a 
 greater benefactor than the man who invents how to 
 blow up ships, or finds out secrets by tortui-iug live 
 dogs." 
 
 ' ' Then you care more about dogs than about human 
 beings ?" 
 
 " I care more for any dog than for that man Schenk." 
 
 They were close by the house now. A carter came 
 round the corner, showering blows on a powerful horse 
 that was straining and panting under a load of stones. 
 
 "Oh, why do you beat him like that?" Marguerite 
 cried, piteously. " Poor beast, lie is doing his best. If 
 you drive him so hard he will drop." 
 
 "He's got to drop some day, like the i-est of us," re 
 torted the man, not ill-humoredly. Mais tranquillisez- 
 vous, ma soeur, he hasn't got a soul to save."
 
 Narha. 171 
 
 "How do you know wlietlier lie has or not?" Mar- 
 guerite said, and she laid her rough little gloveless hand 
 on the quivering flank of the animal. The meek strong 
 creature turned his head toward her, and a glance from 
 his drooping eyes seemed to thank her. She watched 
 tlie man out of sight to make sure he did not begin the 
 blows again. 
 
 " I sometimes think those dray-horses may be angels 
 in disguise," she said; "they have such a patient look 
 in their faces." 
 
 As they entered the house the children were being let 
 loose from class into the play-ground. The rain had 
 ceased, and the paved court was dry. 
 
 "I am just in time!" said Marguerite. "I am on 
 guard during the play hour. You won't mind staying 
 out-of-doors? We can sit down. I will just fetch my 
 knitting." She ran into the house, and returned in a 
 moment. Her appearance was the signal for a general 
 assault from the children. There must have been near- 
 ly three hundred of them, Narka reckoned at a glance, 
 and tliey all shouted and gathered round Marguerite, 
 full of discourse of the greatest importance. They 
 cauglit her by the sleeve, they clutched at her gown, 
 the}"^ elbowed and fought to get close enough to at- 
 tract her attention. Mai'guerite bore the onset quite 
 un fluttered, and in some mysterious way satisfied the 
 whole flock in a minute and a half, and sent them off 
 to their play. 
 
 The two friends sat down in a sheltered spot, but they 
 were hardly seated when a scream from the other end 
 of the court sent Marguerite flying off again. A small 
 cliild had been knocked down by a companion twice its 
 size, and was proclaiming in lusty yells that it was badly 
 hurt. Marguerite picked up the toddler, and kissed it
 
 172 Narha. 
 
 and made it well, and then with a sharp rebuke sent 
 the delinquent to stand with her face to the wall. 
 
 "Now let us have a quiet talk," she said, coming 
 back to Narka. 
 
 "There is not much chance of quiet with all these 
 orphans to keep in order," said Narka, disappointed, 
 and a little chilled. 
 
 "They are not all orphans," corrected Marguerite, as 
 if the point must be of interest to Narka. "There are 
 not more than thirty of them orphans, unfortunately. 
 I mean the parents are so troublesome it is a pity they 
 are not. They drink, and they neglect the poor little 
 things, and maltreat them, and sometimes half kill 
 them. I often think what a mercy it would be if the 
 children of the poor could be born orphans." 
 
 "What a pity the parents don't kill them right off! 
 Then the poor little wretches would go to heaven, in- 
 stead of living to grow up and die and go to hell like 
 their parents," said Narka. 
 
 "Oh, what a dreadful thing to say! Their parents 
 generally die much better than they live. They have 
 suffered so much, poor things, that God waits for them 
 at the end." 
 
 "Oh, does He ? I have often noticed how peacefully 
 the peasants die with us." 
 
 "The poor die peacefully everywhere. They have 
 found it so hard to live, you see, that it comes easy to 
 them to die, even when they die as criminals. Death is 
 always a release to them. I am very anxious just now 
 about a poor man. — Mathilde, didn't you promise Sceur 
 Lucie you wouldn't scratch your eye if she took the 
 bandage off? If I see you scratching it again, I'll have 
 it put on this minute. — His name is Antoine Drex. 
 Such a sober, hard-working fellow, and so good to his
 
 Narha. 173 
 
 mother ! But he married a dreadful woman who drank, 
 and then lie took to drink. One night he came liome 
 and found her dead-drunk on the floor. He went to 
 bed, and in the morning there she lay in the same 
 place dead, with a great cut in her temple. He was 
 taken up for murder. They said he gave her the blow 
 in her head. They have kept him in prison ten months 
 witliout trying him. I'm afraid they will neither acquit 
 him nor condemn him to death, but let him off with 
 hard labor." 
 
 "You would rather he Avas guillotined?" 
 "Why, of course. He'll have to die somehow, and 
 he'll never have so good an opportunity of dying well. 
 He is quite penitent for his sins, and ready to accept 
 death, but the idea of perhaps twenty or thirty years' 
 imprisonment witli the lowest class of criminals drives 
 him to despair." 
 
 " But the disgrace of a public execution." 
 "Bah! When it comes to dying, that matters very 
 little. Public opinion only matters to the living. 
 What consequence is it tlie sort of death one dies in the 
 sight of men ? It is the death one dies in the siglit of 
 God that counts. For my part, I can't think of any 
 better way of going through the ceremony of death — 
 except martyrdom on the battle-field^rthan being guillo- 
 tined. You have a nice quiet time to prepare, plenty of 
 spiritual helps, and you go out to die with your energies 
 of mind and body unimpaired. It would be delightful." 
 "Your family would not be of the same opinion," 
 Narka remarked, in the same bitter, sarcastic tone she 
 had already used. 
 
 "That is, because they are worldly ; they judge things 
 by the standard of the world. Our sisters tell me the 
 criminals they attend in prison invariably die happy
 
 174 Narha. 
 
 deaths. I suppose it is because our Saviour died on a 
 gil>bet that there are such wonderful graces for those 
 who die that sort of death." 
 
 She was knitting away diligently, her eye everywhere 
 over the noisy population around her. Suddenly she 
 darted away to separate two children who were quar- 
 relling. 
 
 Narka could stand this no longer. It had been pos- 
 sible for a moment at first to keep her own trouble 
 waiting; this glimpse into Marguerite's strange life was 
 curious and exciting; but to sit on listening to talk 
 about paupers and orphans, and waiting in vain for a 
 chance of speaking about what her heart was full of, 
 this was intolerable. What a fool she had been to fancy 
 that Marguerite had kept her human heart under that 
 pious costume ! It was clear that her vocation for min- 
 istering to paupers and orphans had left no room in her 
 sympathies for any troubles beyond rheumatism and 
 starvation. 
 
 "Do you ever get to care for any of those dirty 
 brats ?" she asked contemptuously, when Marguerite, 
 panting and triumphant, came back to her. 
 
 "For any of them?" Marguerite repeated, in inno- 
 cent surprise. "I cai'e for them all. I love every one 
 of them." 
 
 "Wliat a capacious heart you must have !" 
 
 " Oh, not half capacious enough !" Marguerite sigh- 
 ed, quite unconscious of the covert sneer. "I wish it 
 were ten times bigger. If only I could empty it of self, 
 then God would come and fill it, and make room for 
 everybody!" 
 
 "Oh, Marguerite!" Narka burst out, with sudden ve- 
 hemence, " why can't you find a corner in it for me ? I 
 dp so want a crumb of sympathy !"
 
 Narka. 175 
 
 Marguerite looked up quickly, and in a moment her 
 whole heart was in her eyes. She dropped her knitting, 
 and put her hand on Narka's arm. 
 
 " You are in trouble ? Oh, dear Narka, why did you 
 not tell me that at once ? What is the matter ? "What 
 has happened ?" 
 
 "I am in terrible trouble. Marguerite," Narka said, 
 and pride and self-control broke down, and her voice 
 sliook, and her eyes filled, and the tears overflowed. 
 
 Marguerite hesitated for a moment; then quilting 
 her needles, she looked np at a window on the fix'st 
 story, and called out, " Soeur Claire!" There was no 
 answer. " She is not there. Nevermind. Come in- 
 doors." 
 
 " But the children ?" said Narka, fearful of getting 
 her into trouble. 
 
 "Let their angels look after them. What else have 
 they got to do?" said Mai'guerite, gallantly reckless; 
 "but I can keep an eye on them from the parlor." 
 
 They went into the parlor, whose window commanded 
 a view of the playground. It was a square room with 
 white walls, and a polished oak floor, straw chairs, and 
 a round table ; a white Christ on a black cross hung over 
 the fireplace. Marguerite stirred up the shabby make- 
 shift of a fire, and drew two chairs close to it, her own 
 facing the wmdow. "Sit down and warm yourself, 
 dear, and tell me what is the matter," she said, as if 
 Narka's trouble were suddenly her one interest in life. 
 And Narka poured out her story, Marguerite listening 
 as if she had no longer any care on earth but to share 
 her sorrow and comfort it. Never before had Narka 
 realized what a healing balm there is in human sym- 
 pathy, and Marguerite's sympathy was strong as fire 
 and sweet as a child's kiss.
 
 1Y6 Narha. 
 
 With exti'aordinary quickness she grasped the whole 
 case, her shrewd practical sense noted every detail, mea- 
 sured diificulties and chances. The situation was bad 
 enough, but by no means hopeless. She said so, sup- 
 porting her opinion by sensible arguments that carried 
 judgment with them, if not conviction. Presently, by 
 the strength of her sympathy and her buoyant nature, 
 she had lifted Narka from the depths of despair and 
 compelled her to take a more hopeful view of every- 
 thing. Basil's love had already proved itself equal to 
 the pressure of antagonistic circumstances ; it had stood 
 the test of absence ; it was not likely to break down be- 
 fore the oj)position of his father; he was full of resources 
 and of energy; and they were both so young: in fact, 
 there were many anchors of hope to cling to. 
 
 "But Sibyl!" Narka exclaimed; "oh, Sibyl!— the 
 thought of her breaks my heart." 
 
 "Dear Narka, you are suffering as much from the 
 destruction of an idol (which is always a good thing for 
 us, darling, however painful) as from the blow that she 
 has dealt you. Half of our misery in life comes from this 
 setting up of idols ; for the idol is certain to fall down 
 some day with a crash, and we get crushed under it." 
 
 "But I thought I knew Sibj^l as I know my own 
 heart. I never could have believed it." 
 
 "There is nearly always something in our fellow- 
 creatures' hearts — and even in our own — that we never 
 know, or could have believed, until some test unex- 
 pectedly reveals it to us." 
 
 ' ' I suppose so, and that is the cruelest part of adver- 
 sity ; it is always applying that test to our fellow-crea- 
 tures, and compelling us to try them. If only we might 
 go on to the end trusting and believing in those we 
 love without ever having to test them!"
 
 Narka. 177 
 
 "But it is sometimes good for us to be tested," said 
 Marguerite. 
 
 Narka did not answer. Presently she said, ' ' Do you 
 think if Sibyl knew the truth she would hate and curse 
 me as bitterly as she does now without knowing it?" 
 
 "It is very hard to say what Sibyl would do, she 
 is so many characters all in one; yet when I remember 
 the agonies of grief she certainly did suffer when you 
 were imprisoned, and how tenderly fond she was of you 
 at Yrakow — I can see her now when we were coming 
 away, clinging to you as if she could never unclasp 
 her arms and let you go." 
 
 ' ' Ah, yes ; that was ju«t what deceived me. She took 
 me to her arms, but she never took me to her heart; I 
 can see that now. She has been feeding me on false 
 sacraments of love all my life. And to think that I 
 must be dependent on her for the means of earning my 
 bread! Oh, if it were not for Basil, I would rather 
 starve a hundred times!" 
 
 "You need not torment yourself about that just yet," 
 said Marguerite; " I may be able to helj) you; I know a 
 great number of people. I will speak to several friends 
 of mine, and we will find you some lessons. Try and 
 don't fret over that trouble; and you must stay at home 
 and take care of yourself for a few days, or else you 
 will certainly fall ill. I will come and see you with 
 Sibyl in a day or two, and — " 
 
 "Sibyl!" Narka broke in. "She can't come to me. 
 The baby is ill with small-pox." 
 
 "Nonsense! It is nothing but chicken-pox. I saw 
 the child this morning. I forgot to tell you. I went 
 there before I went to the Rue du Bac. Sibyl sent yes- 
 terday, imploring me to come at once; she was in au 
 agony of grief, and wanted my sympathy. But I have 
 12
 
 178 KarJca. 
 
 something else to do besides flying across the town with 
 my sympathy, and as nobody was dead, I suspected it 
 was some imaginary grief, as in fact it proved. But 
 this morning came a message saying the baby was dy- 
 ing, so I went. It was nothing at all. The doctor had 
 just been, and laughed at it. Sibyl was lying down, 
 and could not be disturbed, and Gaston had gone out 
 riding." 
 
 " Gaston is very good to me," Narka said. 
 
 "He has a great regard and admiration for you, 
 and he would do anything in his power to serve you," 
 
 "I believe that," said Nai'ka, tightening her grasp of 
 his sister's hand. 
 
 Marguerite noticed that the hand which had been shiv- 
 ering with cold a little while ago was now burning hot. 
 
 ' ' I wonder whether you would do something to please 
 me ?" she said, in a caressing tone. 
 
 "Of course I would. What is it ?" Narka answered, 
 
 "Well, go home and get into bed, and I will give you 
 something to take that will prevent your having a 
 bad cold." She ran off to the dispensary, and was 
 back in a trice with a small bottle and a mustard plaster. 
 "If your chest feels sore to-night, you must promise 
 me to put this on," she said; "and I am going to send 
 you home in a cab. Nonsense ! I have plenty of money, 
 and I can't afford to lose my sister Narka, or to let her 
 lose her voice. Just think what that would be !" 
 
 Narka dropped her head on Marguerite's shoulder 
 and burst into tears ; but it was not a bitter flood, and 
 it loosened the pressure on her brain. Truly God had 
 entered into Marguerite's heart, and made it a Bethle- 
 hem, a house of bread, where the hungry might come 
 and feed upon that bread of love for want of which so 
 many human lives are perishing.
 
 Narka. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The first thing Narka did on returning home was to 
 give notice to the concierge that she meant to leave 
 that day week. Then, obedient to Marguerite's wishes, 
 she went to bed. Tlie warmth and rest, or, as Narka 
 preferred to believe, the virtue of Marguerite's cherishing 
 sympathy, which had passed into her remedies, had the 
 efPect of staving ofiF the illness which had seemed to 
 threaten her. She rose feeling little the worse physic- 
 ally for the violent emotions and sleepless nights she 
 had gone through, and the chill of yesterday. 
 
 In the afternoon the concierge brought up a letter 
 from the landlord in answer to the conge. It was a 
 polite but distinct refusal to accept it. He regretted to 
 remind his amiable tenant that she had signed an en- 
 gagement to occupy, or pay for, the apartment up to the 
 15th of April. Narka uttered an exclamation of dismay ; 
 but referring to the paper in question, she found that this 
 was true; she was bound to her present expensive quar- 
 ters for nearly three months longer. There was nothing 
 to be done but trust to Providence to bring her safe out 
 of this new difficulty, as out of so many others. 
 
 In its outwai'd tenor her life remained, therefore, un- 
 disturbed, notwithstanding the violent change that had 
 shaken it inwardly. Marguerite's plans, practical like 
 herself, succeeded. Through a kind and wealthy South 
 American lady, who was a benefactress to her poor, she 
 procured at once several rich pupils for Narka, all for- 
 eigners, who came to her house twice a week for lessons 
 and a general singing class.
 
 180 Narha. 
 
 Sibyl, who was full of zeal and confident of at once 
 gathering a crowd of pupils, was not so successful. 
 The French mothers to whom she applied, and who 
 had seen Narka at that brilliant soiree, generally an- 
 swered: "She is too beautiful. It might be a risk for 
 my son — for my brother." 
 
 "How stupid they are!" Sibyl said. She was vexed 
 at failing, and this made her angry with Narka, of whom 
 she complained to Marguerite. "I warned her what 
 difficulties she would have to encountei*, but she would 
 not listen to me. She decided on coming, without con- 
 sulting me, and then she came against my advice." 
 
 To Narka, Sibyl was affectionate as ever. She took 
 a lively interest in the singing class, and would come 
 and sit and listen to the lesson, and bring out the su- 
 periority of the teacher's method by her clever criti- 
 cisms, thus raising Narka's value in the eyes of the pu- 
 pils and of their mothers, to whom the charming and 
 elegante Comtesse de Beaucrillon was an oracle on art 
 as well as fashion. The singing lessons came in this 
 way to be a pleasant social opportunity. Narka, more- 
 over, might have led a gay life enough if she had been 
 so inclined, for invitations poured in on her; but she re- 
 fused them all. "I know my value," she said to Mar- 
 guerite ; ' ' these fine ladies would be glad enough to have 
 me to help out their entertainments, but if their sons or 
 their brothers were the least bit civil to me, they would 
 put me to the door. I sha'n't expose myself to tliat. 
 Let them stay in their place, and I will stay in mine," 
 
 " Without going to soirees," Marguerite urged, "you 
 might go and see people a little; it cannot be good for 
 you to be always alone, brooding and moping." 
 
 "These people would do me no good," said Narka. 
 "No solitude is so irksome to me as uncongenial com-
 
 Narka. 181 
 
 pany, and they are all uncongenial. They don't care a 
 straw about me; I am simply invited to make myself 
 useful and agreeable. They expect me to put qn my 
 best clothes and my best smiles, aud exert myself for 
 their amusement, and then be grateful to them, because 
 they are rich and I am poor. I am making great pro- 
 gress in the study of human nature. I have discovered 
 that when people are poor they are expected to have 
 every perfection under the sun: to be perfect in man- 
 ners, in principles, and in temper; never to make a mis- 
 take, to be always in good spirits, and to be useful and 
 amusing into the bargain. If they fulfil these condi- 
 tions, the world may kindly overlook their poverty, and 
 invite them to come and cheer up its dulness." 
 
 " I won't have you turning cynic," protested Margue- 
 rite. ' ' You must not let the trials of life embitter you, 
 Narka." 
 
 "You won't mind if they disenchant me?" replied 
 Narka. 
 
 But indeed sorrow had early disenchanted her with 
 the world, and weaned her from its vanities before the 
 time had come for tasting them. She was in no danger 
 now of succumbing to such temptations as came in her 
 path. Her heart was sliielded from them by suffering, 
 and by a love that absorbed her to the exclusion of all 
 petty personal cares. She had not had a sign from Basil 
 since that terrible letter from the Prince, and there was 
 no one to whom she could even mention his name ex- 
 cept Marguerite. Sibyl, as if the subject were too in- 
 tolerable, avoided it. When she did speak of it, it was 
 to pity her father and herself, and to contemn Basil, and 
 wish the woman dead who had entrapped him. 
 
 The only person who might have given her any news 
 of Basil was Ivan Gorff ; but he had left Pai'is as soon
 
 182 Narha. 
 
 as he had conducted her there, and had never written 
 since, airtl she did not know his address. There was 
 of late something very mysterious about Ivan. Narka 
 knew tliat he associated with tlie most advanced rev- 
 olutionists, yet he came and went perfectly free, while 
 Basil, for merely conniving at the movement which 
 Ivan was, she suspected, actively precipitating, had been 
 seriously comjiromised, only escaping imprisonment 
 through a lucky chance. Then Ivan was leading a 
 strange life for a man of thirty, in possession of a for- 
 tune, which, since Sophie's death, must be reckoned by 
 millions. His personal appearance suggested biting econ- 
 omy, offensive slovenliness, or sordid avarice, whereas 
 in former days he had been somewhat dandified in his 
 dress, and generous as a king. On the journey from 
 Koenigsberg he had put up at a miserable inn at Berlin, 
 apologizing to Narka for taking her there, but pleading 
 as a reason that the people were honest, and that he 
 was in the habit of staying there. What motive could 
 induce a man of his wealth to deprive himself not alone 
 of luxuries, but of the comforts that he had all his life 
 been accustomed to ? 
 
 One afternoon, on coming home from a lesson, Narka, 
 who had been thinking a great deal about Ivan, and 
 wishing to hear from him, found that in her absence he 
 had called and left word that he would call again next 
 morning. It was a bitter disappointment to have missed 
 him; he was sure to have news of Basil; he had prob- 
 ably seen him. She was too excited to sleep, and count- 
 ed the hours till morning. But morning came, and 
 Ivan did not appear. He had left no address, so she 
 could not write to him. The singing class was at one 
 o'clock, and Narka's terror was that he would call while 
 it was going on, and that she should miss him again.
 
 Narka. 183 
 
 But the singing class came to an end, and there was still 
 no sign of him. Immediately after the lesson Sibyl came 
 to take her for a drive. There was no ostensible reason 
 for refusing, so Narka had to go. It was the longest 
 di'ive she ever took, and Sibyl noticed that she was 
 strangely preoccupied. On returning home she found 
 a note from Ivan saying he had been hindered from 
 coming by an accident, but he hoped to see her in a few 
 days. Nai'ka was too impatient to wait for his visit. 
 The note contained his address, so early the next morn- 
 ing she set out to see him. The Rue B , where he 
 
 was staying, was a narrow sort of laneway behind the 
 Pantheon ; the house a shabby-looking tnaison 'iiieublee. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur is at home," the concierge said, giv- 
 ing her the number of the room on the fifth story. 
 
 Narka did not stop to think of the proprieties. She 
 mounted the dark stairs, steep and narrow as a ladder, 
 and knocked at Number 96. 
 
 "Come in," said a voice. 
 
 She opened the door. It was a small attic room, 
 full of tobacco smoke, with the roof slanting on one 
 side, no fire, no carpet. Ivan was sitting in a high- 
 backed arm-chair, buttoned to his chin in a huge furred 
 coat, a pipe in his mouth, his head swathed to an enor- 
 mous size in a woollen scarf. He looked like some gro- 
 tesque caricature of a man. 
 
 "Narka Larik!" he said, removing his pipe, and his 
 blue eyes widened and sparkled with that inarticulate 
 laughter which gave to his countenance its peculiar ex- 
 pression of childlike candor and merriment. 
 
 "I thought something must have happened, as you 
 did not keep your appointment," Narka replied. "You 
 have met with an accident ?" 
 
 "No; only a savage fit of pain that seized me like
 
 184 Narha. 
 
 a tiger. It knocked me over in an hour. I was half 
 mad. But it is gone now. Schenk pricked me with 
 morphine, and killed the pain." 
 
 "Schenk ?" said Narka, interrogatively. 
 
 "He is a doctor, a very clever fellow, and a friend 
 of mine. Sit down, won't you ?" He pushed toward 
 her the arm-chair he had been occupying, the only one 
 in the room. 
 
 What could have reduced Ivan Gorff to these ex- 
 tremities ? 
 
 " When did you arrive in Paris ?" Narka asked. 
 
 "The day before yesterday. I have come straight 
 from St. Petersburg without drawing bridle; I took cold 
 on the journey. It was like travelling through Siberia." 
 
 Narka bethought herself that if he had travelled first- 
 class he would not have had to complain of the cold. 
 
 "^ You saw Basil ?" she said. 
 
 "Yes. He is well, but as savage as a bear. He and 
 the Prince quarrel all day. Basil has got himself into 
 a fine dilemma. He ought to have kept his affairs to 
 himself, at least for a while longer." 
 
 "It was not he who told the Prince of our engage- 
 ment. Some one whom he had trusted with the secret 
 betrayed him." 
 
 "He ought not to have ti'usted anybody with it. 
 He ought never to have put a line on paper about it. 
 I warned him many a time to be cautious, that the police 
 had their eyes and ears everywhere; but it was no use. 
 What did you do with those papers of his ?" 
 
 " I have them safe with me." 
 
 "That is foolish. You ought to burn them. They 
 may get you into trouble again." 
 
 "How so? What do the police know about me 
 here ?"
 
 Narha. 186 
 
 Ivan's round eyes widened and twinkled until it seem- 
 ed as if they were going to explode with laughter. 
 
 "You fancy the police don't know just as much about 
 you here as if you were in St. Petersburg ? You are 
 very naive, Narka Larik." 
 
 " Am I ? Well, you have something more interesting 
 to say than that, have you not ? Tell me about the 
 Prince and Basil. The Prince wrote to Sibyl that if 
 Basil did not surrender within three months he would 
 have him sent to Ki'onstadt, and consigned to the town 
 until he came to his senses. Do you think he is capable 
 of carrying out thaVthreat ?" 
 
 ' ' He will try all soft means before he has recourse to 
 the hard. He is trying to bribe Basil now with the pi'om- 
 ise of getting Father Christopher liberated and brought 
 back to bless his marriage with Princess Krinsky." 
 
 "Basil is not such a fool as to fall into that trap." 
 Narka laughed. 
 
 " Humph!" Ivan moved his huge bundle of a head 
 slowly up and down. "The Prince is convinced that if 
 he went to the Emperor and told him the whole story, 
 he would grant Father Christopher's release at once. 
 Marie Krinsky is in love with Basil, and Prince Krinsky 
 is in high favor. The Empress, too, is gi^eatly annoy- 
 ed at Basil's refusing to marry her pet maid of honor. 
 Basil knows all this, and then the thought of Father 
 Christopher's captivity haunts him perpetually." 
 
 Narka grew pale. "The Emperor does not know 
 about Basil's supposed share in LarchofF's death ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "No; but Basil thinks he does. He never heard, of 
 course, of that tampering with his letters." 
 
 "Does the Prince know who it is that Basil wants to 
 marry ?"
 
 186 Narha. 
 
 " He did not tell me if he did." 
 
 " Basil would have told you ?" 
 
 "Very likely, if he had had a chance; but we were 
 hardly five minutes alone. He wanted me to come 
 next day and have a quiet talk; but I was bound for 
 time. I had to leave the next morning." 
 
 What could this business be that drove Ivan from 
 city to city, compelling him to renounce the pleasure of 
 a meeting with his best friend ? Narka felt that she 
 must know at all costs. 
 
 "Why cannot you trust me as Basil does ?" she said, 
 looking him straight in the eyes. 
 
 Ivan met her challenging glance with a beam of 
 satisfaction. "To trust our friends is sometimes the 
 unkindest thing we can do. Basil px^oved that to 
 you. But now that you are comparatively out of 
 harm's way, I will tell you anything you care to know. 
 I have thrown in my lot with those who want to do 
 away with tyrants and set the nations free. This in- 
 volves ways and means which those who don't want to 
 risk their heads had better know nothing about. I 
 don't care about rislcing mine. If it had gone while 
 that tigerish pain was clawing it yesterday I should 
 have been glad enough. But, on the otlier hand, it 
 would upset a lot of things if I were to drop off now. 
 I am tlie telegraph between all the centres. There is 
 not a plot hatched anywhere but I am the first to hear 
 of it. I carry messages that can't be written; I organ- 
 ize meetings; I get the pamphlets published; I work 
 the occult machinery of the Socialist press, and direct 
 its underground operations. All this gives me plenty 
 to do. It is not the work that brings pay and glory, 
 like the work of the hero in livery who serves a tyrant, 
 and calls it serving his country ; but it is a hero's work
 
 Narka. 187 
 
 all the same. The man who undertakes it must re- 
 nounce everything and risk everythitig, and live every 
 day with death dogging him like his shadow." 
 
 Narka looked at Ivan with a new interest; no man 
 ever presented a more unheroic appearance than he did 
 with his ungainly figure and his huge beturbaned head. 
 Nevertheless she began to recognize in him a hero of 
 some grand though perhaps dangerous type. "And is 
 Basil involved in this work ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Yes; he has thi'own himself into it body and soul." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 They were silent for a moment. Then Ivan said: 
 "Why should not you join us, Narka Larik ? You 
 might help greatly, and without the same risk, here 
 in France." 
 
 "Show me how. Show me anything this head or 
 these hands can do, and I will do it," she answered, 
 impulsively. 
 
 Ivan held out his hand to her, and she laid hers in 
 the broad palm that closed on it with a strong clasp. 
 As they sat thus, hand in hand, the door opened, and a 
 man came quickly in. 
 
 Narka recognized Dr. Schenk, and colored violently. 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad you have come !" Ivan said, 
 slowly releasing her hand. "This is my good friend 
 Dr. Schenk, Mademoiselle Narka Larik, one of oui'S." 
 
 Narka bowed and stood up. 
 
 ' ' Pray don't let me send you away, mademoiselle. I 
 won't detain Gorflt' a minute," said Schenk. 
 
 "I was just going," Narka replied, her embarrass- 
 ment relieved by his perfect ease and respectful manner. 
 "I hope there is nothing serious the matter with M. 
 Gorff ?" 
 
 "It is serious — a case of suicidal mania," observed
 
 188 Narka. 
 
 the medical man. ' ' If he exercised common humanity 
 to himself he would be as strong as a horse, but he mal- 
 treats himself as if he were a dog." 
 
 " I should not have thought you capable of maltreat- 
 ing a dog," Narka said, remembering Marguerite's abuse 
 of the vivisector. 
 
 She gave her hand again to Ivan, and bowing coldly 
 to Schenk, went out.
 
 Narka. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 On i-eacliing home Narka found a note from Sibyl 
 which a servant had just left. She opened the violet- 
 scented missive, and read: 
 
 '*My Darling, — I bring you a wonderful piece of 
 good news!" (Narka stopped to take breath. Had 
 Basil surrendered?) "It has come so suddenly I can 
 almost fancy it a fairy trick. Fortune is going to be 
 kind to you, my Narka, and reward you after all you 
 have suffered. Listen : I have just had a visit from Sig- 
 nor Zampa, who was director of the Italian opera here 
 last year, and is now managing La Scala, at Naples. 
 He gave me lessons when I came to Paris. Well, dear- 
 est, he is in search of a soprano voice to take the place 
 of prima donna at La Scala. An artist who heard you 
 here that memorable night carried the fame of your 
 voice and your genius to Naples, and Signor Zampa has 
 come on here to see if you would suit him and accept 
 his overtures. I gave him your address, and with diffi- 
 culty dissuaded him from rushing straight off to j'ou, 
 there and then. I said he would not find you till two 
 o'clock, and I promised to send word to you to expect 
 his visit at two. I am beside myself with delight. 
 Come to breakfast to-morrow morning, and meantime 
 attune your voice to its heavenliest key, and sing the 
 soul out of Zampa's breast, and millions out of his 
 pocket. Your own Sibyl."
 
 190 Narka. 
 
 Narka dropped the letter with an inarticulate ex- 
 clamation. She was bewildered. It might, no doubt, 
 be a most brilliant career that opened out so unexjiected- 
 ly to her, but at this fii'st moment she could not realize 
 anything but Ihe shock of the proposal. To turn public 
 singer, to go on the stage — she who was engaged to 
 Prince ZorokofP ? Was it possible to contemplate such 
 a thing? And yet how was she to refuse it without in- 
 curring Sibyl's deep displeasure, rousing her suspicions, 
 and in that case alienating her, perhaps irrevocably ? 
 And there was not even time to think it over. It was 
 one o'clock, and Signor Zarapa was likely to be punctual. 
 She threw aside her bonnet, and went to the piano, and 
 excitedly turned over the leaves of a music-book. She 
 could not well refuse to sing, if he asked her, and in 
 tlie midst of her perplexity the desire of the artist to 
 win the approval of so great a ci'itic assei'ted itself. 
 
 As the clock struck two, Signor Zampa rang at the 
 door. 
 
 Narka, flushed with excitement, looked her best when 
 he came in. 
 
 "You have heard from the Comtesse de Beaucrillon 
 the object of my visit, mademoiselle?" he said, conquer- 
 ed at once by her beauty. 
 
 "Yes. It has taken me by surprise. I never dream- 
 ed of going on the stage. I have not had the neces- 
 sary training for it. I don't think I am at all fitted to 
 be an opera singer." 
 
 "Perhaps I am a better judge of that than you. Will 
 you let me hear you sing ?" 
 
 She rose without any pretence of shyness, and went 
 to the piano. Zampa pulled off his gloves. 
 
 "You will accompany me?" she said. 
 
 "Certainly. What will you sing?"
 
 Narka. 191 
 
 " Choose anything you like," motioning- indifferently 
 to the books and songs that were scattered about. 
 
 "Let's try this," he said, opening the partition of 
 Norma at the " Casta Diva." 
 
 It happened to be a favorite piece of Narka's; she 
 sang it well at all times, but stimulated by his presence 
 she rendered it now with a perfection of art that must 
 have delighted the maestro, even if her voice had not 
 enchanted him by its rare qualities. When she ended, 
 he burst out with a rapturous "Bravo!" and seizing 
 her hand, kissed it with the demonstrative enthusi- 
 asm of his nation. He entreated her to sing several 
 other pieces, each chosen with a view to bring out 
 the various qualities of her voice. Narka, inspired by 
 his admiration and discerning criticism, sang at her 
 best, feeling that ecstasy in the expansion of her splen- 
 did powers which is by turns the triumph and the de- 
 spair of the true artist. Every fibre in her was thrill- 
 ing to the music of her voice. Something of the grand, 
 untamed creature that was visible in her majestic lines 
 and strong supjDle limbs began to throb in her pulses 
 and course in her blood ; and when the Italian started 
 up and described the brilliant future that was before 
 her, she was more ready to respond to his offers than 
 she could have believed possible an hour ago. As he 
 stood there, with his fiery eloquence and mei'curial ges- 
 ticulation, she could almost fancy a wizard had sprung 
 up on her path, waving his wand, and bidding the 
 mountains roll down and the desert blossom at her feet. 
 
 "You will be a star that will outshine every star in 
 the musical firmament of our age!" he declared, execu- 
 ting a sort of war-dance on the hearth-rug in his excite- 
 ment. "Europe will ring with your fame; crowned 
 heads will bow down before the i-oyalty of your genius !"
 
 192 NarJca. 
 
 Narka listened, and felt something like what the bird 
 must feel when a kind hand is about to open its cage 
 and set it free to take flight into its native element. She 
 had been beating the bars of her cage all her life, even 
 before she knew it. 
 
 Zampa saw that she was won, and he kept throwing 
 in the incense, till the fumes enveloped her and went to 
 her brain. It was a delicious intoxication. But sud- 
 denly the sweet smoke began to choke her. She had 
 forgotten Basil. What would he say ? How would 
 this contemplated step affect their common destiny ? 
 Would the prima donna millionaire be a more suitable 
 wife for Prince Zorokoff than Narka Larik ? "I am 
 so taken by sui'prise," she said, not attempting to dis- 
 guise her emotion, "that I cannot answer you to-day. 
 I must have time to think over your proposal and to 
 consult my friends before I decide. I will write to 
 you in a day or two." 
 
 But the impresario went away confident and exult- 
 ing. He had no doubt of having secured the prize. 
 
 When he was gone, Narka asked herself whether she 
 was waking or dreaming. Had she done wisely in 
 leaving him to believe she would entertain his offer ? 
 As to consulting her friends, whom had she to consult ? 
 Sibyl would think her insane if she hesitated for a 
 moment, and would never forgive her for rejecting an 
 offer that she, Sibyl, so wholly approved of. There 
 was Marguerite: Marguerite was sure to cry out in hor- 
 ror at the mere notion of the stage; to her it would 
 seem like walking into the lion's den. Still, Narka 
 must speak to some one, and there was only Marguerite; 
 and Marguerite's sympathy was sure to be comforting, 
 and it might possibly be illuminating. 
 
 Early next morning she set out to La Villette. To
 
 Narka. 193 
 
 her great surprise, Marguerite, far from being horri- 
 fied, met the idea complacently. 
 
 "I expected you would have shrieked at the bare no- 
 tion of my risking my soul in such a wicked place as 
 the theatre," said Narka. 
 
 "Is it such a wicked place?" said Marguerite. "I 
 didn't know. A school friend of mine, a very pious 
 gii-1, lost her fortune, and went on the stage, and sang 
 for a year at the Opera Comique, and she remained as 
 pious as ever, and died like a little saint. But that was 
 in Paris; perhaps at Naples it is worse." 
 
 "I suspect it is the same everywhere, pretty much," 
 Narka replied. " But I have no fear on that score," 
 she added, bridling inwardly. " Self-respect would pro- 
 tect me as well on the stage as walking about Paris 
 alone. I was not thinking of any danger of that sort; 
 it does not exist for me. I was thinking how the thing 
 will appear to Sibyl." 
 
 "Sibyl ? Why, Sibyl has invented it." 
 
 " I mean about Basil. Would it not be a greater 
 degradation for him to marry me if I were a public 
 singer ?" 
 
 "Ah!" Marguerite slipped her hands into her wide 
 sleeves, and put her head a little to one side, and 
 gave her whole mind to the solution of this problem. 
 "Sibyl could tell us," she said, after a moment; "but 
 we can't ask Sibyl." 
 
 " No, we can't ask Sibyl." 
 
 They sat silent awhile. Then Marguerite, like a per- 
 son who, having passed every argument in review, ar- 
 rives at a conclusion, .said: "It always seems to me 
 that the safest plan is to take what Providence sends 
 to us, and trust the consequences to Him. If you are 
 running no risk to your soul, I don't see why you 
 X3
 
 194 Narha. 
 
 should not accept his offer. Instead of being an ob- 
 stacle between you and Basil, it may be the means of 
 drawing you together. Perhaps Sibyl did not tell you, 
 but her terror is that Basil, in spite of the Prince and 
 the police, may contrive to make his escaj^e from Rus- 
 sia. And if he does, how is he to live ? The Prince 
 won't supply him with money, certainly ; and he would 
 not like to be dependent on Sibyl — that is to say, on 
 Sibyl's husband. He would not mind, perhaps, being 
 dependent on his wife for a time." 
 
 Narka threw out her arms and caught the small 
 figure to her heart. "Oh, Marguerite, what a blessed 
 little Solomon you are!" she exclaimed, in delight. 
 '^That would indeed be a joyful culmination — to rescue 
 Basil from poverty and dependence, and to be revenged 
 en those who have been so cruel to us both !" 
 
 "Oh, never mind the revenge, Narka!" Marguerite 
 entreated. This was not the feeling she had meant to 
 excite; but discussing with Narka was like stirring the 
 embers of a smouldering fire; the flame leaped up and 
 the sparks flew out when you least expected it. 
 
 The bell rang, and Marguerite had to say good-by and 
 hurry off to her duties. 
 
 Narka went straight to the Rue St. Dominique. She 
 found Sibyl in high excitement. 
 
 "Zampa has been here, and he is beside himself with 
 satisfaction! He draws such a horoscope for you as 
 must make all the Malibrans pine with envy in their 
 graves. Narka, you have a splendid career before you. 
 I am so happy! It takes such a load off my heart!" 
 She kissed Narka, and then turned to look at the prac- 
 tical side of the affair. The impresario was liberal as 
 a prince. Narka was to proceed without delay to Flor- 
 ence, and put herself in tx'aining under the great master
 
 Narka. 1 95 
 
 there. The whole tenor of her life was changed in an 
 hour; she was lifted from poverty, obscui'ity, and cark- 
 ing care to ease, brilliancy, and the prospect of imme- 
 diate fame. Sibyl entered into it all with that quick 
 sympathy and subtle understanding that were part of 
 her power. 
 
 "But you take it all too coldly, Narka," she said, sud- 
 denly, her keen perception detecting the lack of response 
 in Narka. "Are you not glad, dear? I thought you 
 would be so excited." 
 
 "I suppose I ought to be." Then, after a moment, 
 "Does M. de Beaucrillon say anything about it?" Nar- 
 ka asked, irrelevantly. 
 
 "Gaston? He is delighted. Did you think he would 
 not care ?" 
 
 "Oh no; he is too kind not to care." Narka repress- 
 ed a sigh. She seemed tired. But there was something 
 on her mind, Sibyl suspected. "I am just wondering 
 whether it will make any difference when I am before 
 the footlights," she said, with a constrained laugh — 
 "whether you will feel quite the same to me when I 
 am a public singer." 
 
 "As if that could make the smallest difference!" 
 Sibyl exclaimed, looking at her in blank amazement. 
 
 Narka laughed in the same constrained way. ' ' No 
 doubt," she said to herself, "I shall remain just as 
 far beneath the Comtesse de Beaucrillon, nee Princess 
 Zorokoff, whether I turn public singer, or remain in 
 my native obscurity as Narka Larik." 
 
 So it was settled that they were to close at once with 
 the impresario's offer. Narka sat down at Sibyl's ta- 
 ble, and wrote a note saying she would prepare at once 
 to start for Florence, and enter on her preparation for 
 the opera. Then, to Sibyl's disappointment, she insist*
 
 196 Narha. 
 
 ed on going home, alleging that she was tired and want- 
 ed rest. 
 
 Sibyl saw that she was both excited and depressed. 
 "You are quite feverish," she said, holding Narka's 
 hand, and then touching her hot forehead; " you ought 
 to stay here, and let me put you Ijnng down, and bathe 
 your temples with eau-de-cologne." 
 
 But Narka would not be persuaded, although she 
 would gladly have lain down, and the touch of Sibyl's 
 cool soft hand on her aching head would have been 
 soothing. 
 
 I
 
 JSTarka. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Narka was in a glow of lieat when she left Sibyl's 
 warm rooms, and met the bitter wind that blew hard 
 from the north. It was a long walk and a bleak one 
 by the river, but she faced it with a kind of reckless des- 
 peration. She reached home very tired, and was scarce- 
 ly in-doors when she was seized with a shivering fit. 
 
 "Mademoiselle has taken a chill," said Eudoxie. "I 
 must make her a tisane." 
 
 But the tisane did not prove as potent as Eudoxie ex- 
 pected. Narka spent a restless night, and in the morn- 
 ing her throat was swollen, her head ached, and her 
 hand burned. 
 
 "Mademoiselle has fever. I had better go to the 
 chemist and ask him for something to cut it," said Eu- 
 doxie. 
 
 But Narka took a pencil and wrote a line to Mar- 
 guerite, and desired the maid to take it at once to La 
 Villette. 
 
 As Eudoxie was going out she met Ivan Gorff, and 
 she told him on what errand she was bound. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Narka must see a doctor at once," he 
 said. "I will go and fetch one while you take that 
 message to La Villette." 
 
 Eudoxie gave him the key of the apartment, and hur- 
 ried off to the omnibus. 
 
 Ivan called a cab and drove straight to Schenk's lod- 
 gings, and was back with him before Eudoxie had re- 
 turned.
 
 198 Karka. 
 
 Sclienk knocked at the bedroom door; there was no 
 answer, so he opened it and looked in. Narka was 
 alarmed and amazed on seeing so unexpected a visitor 
 walk into her room, but he calmed her at once by his 
 manner as much as by his words, and explained how he 
 came there, felt her pulse, and then, without troubling 
 her with useless questions, withdrew. The visit did not 
 last three minutes, and nothing could have been more 
 discreet and professional than his manner throughout. 
 
 When Schenk went back to the salon. Marguerite 
 was there, talking to Ivan GorfiP. She was horrified to 
 find that the vivisector had been called in, but she kept 
 this to herself ; he had the reputation of being a skilful 
 doctor, and there was comfort in that. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she inquired, when Schenk 
 had closed the door of the bedi-oom. 
 
 "Inflammation of the lungs; it has advanced very 
 rapidly ; she is in high fever. ■ ' 
 
 " Is she delirious ?" 
 
 " She will be in a few hours, I expect." 
 
 Mai'guerite uttered an exclamation of distress, and 
 went into the bedroom. Narka signed to her to stoop 
 down. " Go to the trunk behind the door," she whis- 
 pered; "you will find an ivory casket, the key is in 
 the drawer of the writing-table. Take it away and keep 
 it safe for me — or for Basil." 
 
 "It is safe enough where it is, darling," said Margue- 
 rite; " I will see that nobody touches it." 
 
 "But if anything hapiDens to me — " 
 
 ' ' You mean if you died ? You have not the small- 
 est intention of doing anything so sensible," said Mar- 
 guerite, in her bright way. ' ' You have caught a bad 
 cold, and I am going to look after you till you get 
 well. Our sisters here in the parish will come and see
 
 NarJca. 199 
 
 you every clay. I'm going to tell them. So between 
 us you have small chance of escaping to heaven." 
 
 Narka made an eifort to say something, but her 
 throat seemed to close, she could only form the word 
 with her lips, " Sibyl ?" 
 
 " I will let lier know you are not well." Marguerite 
 smoothed the pillow and the counterpane, and kissed 
 Narka on the forehead ; she then drew the curtain so as 
 to darken the room, and went back to the salon. 
 
 During her absence Dr. Schenk and Ivan settled it 
 between them that no one who understood Russian 
 should be allowed near Narka, lest in her delii'ium she 
 should betray secrets that might work mischief to her- 
 self and others. When Marguerite reappeared, the medi- 
 cal man said: "I think it right to tell you, ma soeur, 
 that I see symptoms which threaten diphtheria; the 
 disease has not taken that character so far, but it may 
 develop it before to-morrow morning; in that case it 
 will be necessary to find a nurse who is not afi'aid of 
 the contagion. I have one whom I can trust." 
 
 "Our sisters will take care of her," Marguerite re- 
 plied. "I was going to write to Madame de Beau- 
 crillon," she said, turning to Ivan; "but if there be 
 any fear of diphtheria she must not come." 
 
 "It would be a great imprudence to expose her to 
 the risk, especially as there is no necessity for it," Ivan 
 replied. 
 
 Marguerite determined to keep Sibyl away. 
 
 It proved a wise precaution as regarded Narka. She 
 was soon delirious, and raved incessantly about Basil, 
 about Kronstadt, about Ivan and his revolutionary 
 work; she talked chiefly in Russian, but now and then 
 she spoke in French, and Marguerite, who very quickly 
 detected the fiction that kept Sibyl away, understood
 
 200 Jstarka. 
 
 enough of Narka's wanderings to make her grateful to 
 Schenk for inventing it. 
 
 Sibyl was unremitting in her inquiries, and sent every- 
 day to know if there was nothing she could do to help. 
 Meantime the illness, inflammation of the lungs, ran 
 its course without complications ; the danger remained 
 throughout potential, not going beyond the peril which 
 must attend eveiy serious attack of the kind. M. 
 de Beaucrillon, having heard the word diphtheria pro- 
 nounced, would not hear of his wife's going near the 
 house until Narka should have been pronounced con- 
 valescent, and until the atmosphere should have been 
 purified of every lingering possibility of contagion. It 
 was arranged that as soon as the doctor approved of it, 
 she should come to the Rue St. Dominique, and remain 
 thei'e until she went down to Beaucrillon with the fam- 
 ily. All this was settled without reference to Narka 
 herself, her acquiescence in Sibyl's wishes being taken 
 for granted. She was going on very satisfactory, but 
 just as the day for her removal approached, the baby 
 fell ill with croup. After a week of mortal terror and 
 suspense to the parents, the child recovered, but was 
 ordered off at once to waters in Germany. Narka con- 
 sequently received a note from Sibyl full of despair at 
 the double disappointment, and entreating her to go 
 down to Beaucrillon as soon as she felt equal to the 
 move, and wait there until they rejoined her. 
 
 It would have been a surprise to Sibyl if she could 
 have heard Narka exclaim, on reading this note, "What 
 a relief!" She had been looking forward with dread to 
 the long term of close companionship with Sibyl. Weak 
 as she was now, her one desire was to be left quiet. 
 It would have taxed both her moral and physical 
 strength too severely to be shut in with Sibyl, to be
 
 KarJca. 201 
 
 obliged to undergo her effusive tenderness, and respond 
 to it, and to hear her outpourings of anger and despair 
 about Basil. Once again the blessed baby had come 
 like a messenger of mercy to her rescue.
 
 202 • Narka, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Narka, white as an alabaster statue, and all eyes, was 
 sitting up in her pretty salon, looking out at the old 
 garden, and listening to the birds singing, when Mar- 
 guerite came in, bringing, as usual, fresh air from hea- 
 ven with her. 
 
 "I was just thinking of you," said Narka. 
 
 "That was a very good and wholesome thought," 
 said Marguerite. 
 
 "Yes; and I was wishing I was a dog." 
 
 "That thought was not so good." 
 
 "I was thinking that I must leave this apartment in a 
 week, and I don't know under the bi'oad face of heaven 
 where to find another. Now if I were a dog, I might 
 lodge under the stars, which would be pleasant enough, 
 as the warm weather is at hand ; but as I am a human 
 being, the police would take me up. As I went on think- 
 ing, it occurred to me tliat I might find a lodging at La 
 Villette cheaper than in this part of the city. Do you 
 think I could get anything clean and cheap near you ?" 
 
 Marguerite considered a moment. " Madame Bla- 
 quette has rooms to let at the corner of the Place; they 
 are cheap and bright, and they take in a good bit of sky, 
 and they are not five minutes from us." 
 
 "Then Madame Blaquette's rooms are just the thing 
 for me!" 
 
 A week after this conversation Narka was installed 
 at Madame Blaquette's. 
 
 Madame Blaquette was a character in her way. She
 
 Karha. 203 
 
 had been servant in a gentleman's family till she was 
 forty, and now lived by letting tliese rooms that took in 
 a good bit of sky. Slie posed for the decayed gentlewo- 
 man. She had had a bachelor uncle, a grocer, whose 
 money she had always exi^ected to inherit, and being 
 blessed with a lively imagination, she had enjoyed the 
 inheritance almost as much in px'ospect as if she al- 
 ready possessed it. She felt, therefore, deeply wronged 
 when, at the age of sixty, this bachelor uncle took to him- 
 self a wife, and, dying at the end of a year, left all he 
 had to her and her baby. Madame Blaquette always 
 alluded to the event as "the loss of my fortune," and 
 would heave a sigh when speaking of " the days before 
 my reverses." 
 
 "She is a sentimental old goose," said Marguerite, 
 "but honest as the sun, and her lodgers are always 
 respectable; they are generally friends of mine." 
 
 Narka had not yet discovered that to be a friend of 
 Marguerite's was a title to respectability open to discus- 
 sion. It was not long, however, before she became 
 aware that Marguerite was on intimate terms with all 
 the waifs and strays and drunkards of the district, for 
 Narka, being curious to make acquaintance with the 
 neighborhood, and having as yet no work to do, went 
 about occasionally with Marguerite on her rounds. In 
 this way she came soon to see the influence Marguerite 
 exercised, and the j)osition she held, in spite of her 
 youth — perhaps, indeed, because of it — with the popula- 
 tion of La Villette. It was very amusing to see how she 
 queened it over them all, tripping along in her heavy 
 shoes, carrying a bundle or a basket like any little pea- 
 sant woman. The children left their play to pull at her 
 gown and get a pat on the head ; women at their wash- 
 tubs stopped soaping or scrubbing to exchange a word
 
 204 Narha. 
 
 with her, or call out some piece of domestic news ; shop- 
 keepers in the act of selling turned to nod and say, 
 '^'^ Bonjour, ma soeur'''' ; gamins and roughs suspended 
 their wrangling, and waited till she had passed to finish 
 their oaths. It took Narka's breath away to see the re- 
 fined, delicate girl walk up to a group of quarrelling men 
 or boys and order them to the right about as if they 
 had been children in her school. And the horny-handed 
 ouvrier who had spent his week's earnings at the caba- 
 ret would take the pipe out of his mouth and listen 
 meekly while she gave him a scolding. There was some- 
 thing of the mother in the genial cruelty with which 
 she looked them in the face and said the hard thing to 
 them, and told them they made her ashamed, or angry, 
 or sorry. Her auger would be very hot, but it never 
 took the form of cold displeasure. She abhorred cold, 
 cruel cold that hatches hate, the least touch of whose 
 icy breath is more fatal to love than the hottest blast of 
 anger. Marguerite's sympathy was an open fountain, 
 always flowing; when the poor went to her with a 
 grievance, she waxed so indignant with them that they 
 felt themselves avenged; when they took her a sorrow, 
 she pitied them so tenderly that they left the sting of 
 it behind them. 
 
 One day, after a long morning of hard work in the 
 dispensary and the school, Narka, wlio was going out 
 with her on a round of sick visits, said, "What a tiring 
 life it is that you lead, Marguerite ! Do you never w^eary 
 of it ?" 
 
 "Never for a minute!" was the unhesitating reply. 
 "That is the happiness in God's service: it may tire 
 one's body, but it keeps one's heart merry." 
 
 "I wish I could think the poor were grateful to you," 
 said Narka.
 
 Narka. 205 
 
 "Who says they are not grateful?" demanded Mar- 
 guerite, quickly. 
 
 " It seems to me everybody says it; it is the constant 
 complaint of all the good people who do for the iDOor 
 that they get no return." 
 
 ' ' What nonsense ! I wonder what sort of return they 
 expect ? If they gave love, the poor would give them 
 love back ; but they only give alms, and I don't suppose 
 they expect the poor to give them back alms ? It is so 
 silly of people to be always looking for gratitude, and 
 then to go about complaining that they don't get it: 
 the disappointment sours themselves, and the complain- 
 ing sours other people, for nine people out of ten ar-e 
 ungrateful, and the complaining hits home and hurts 
 their self-love." 
 
 Narka was amused at this touchiness concerning the 
 poor which Marguerite displayed on the slightest pi-ovo- 
 cation. They were passing by a public-house at the 
 moment. A sound of voices raised high in altercation 
 came through the closed door. 
 
 "I do believe that is Antoine Drex that I hear," said 
 Marguerite. She stood to listen, and at the same mo- 
 ment the door opened, sending out a villanous whiflf of 
 alcohol a,nd tobacco, and there stood Antoine Drex, 
 IfUmper aloft, apostrophizing the company. 
 
 "Ah! this is how you keep your promise, Antoine 
 Drex !" Marguerite called out from the street. 
 
 The big black-bearded man stared open-mouthed, as 
 if the small figure in the doorway had been the ghost 
 of his dead wife. A loud laugh from the spectators 
 showed their sense of the comical side of the tableau. 
 
 "Tliey look drunk; come away," said Narka, under 
 her breatli. 
 
 But Marguerite held her ground intrepidly. * ' Come
 
 206 JSTarka. 
 
 out here, and go home to your poor old mother," she 
 called out to the culprit, who stood sheepishly holding 
 his bumper on the counter ; ' ' she is very suffering this 
 morning, and you ought to be helping her instead of 
 drinking here." 
 
 To Narka's amazement, the stalwart man, who might 
 have crunched up Marguerite with a finger and thumb, 
 came out of the cabaret like a docile dog, and walked 
 on before her. He looked dangerous enough, Narka 
 thought, for he had been drinking copiously. This 
 was clear from his red eyeballs and swaggering gait as 
 with clinched hanging hands he tramped up the street 
 before them, growling confidentially to the paving- 
 stones. 
 
 "Is that the man you wanted them to guillotine?" 
 Narka asked, when Antoine was beyond hearing. 
 
 "Yes. How I wish they had ! He would have been 
 safe in purgatory now, instead of getting drunk at the 
 Chat Botte. Those ten months they kept him in prison 
 before the trial put a heart of rage into the poor fellow 
 that will get him into trouble some day. And it is 
 hard, for the rage is only suffering in disguise. It nearly 
 always is with the poor. Antoine would not hurt any- 
 body. He is so good to his mother! Even when he 
 is drunk he never touches her. And he often shares 
 his crust with a neighbor poorer than himself. If I 
 only could keep him out of the wine-shop!" 
 
 "The wine-shop is the bane of the poor everywhere," 
 said Narka. 
 
 "It is their resource, God help them! They drink to 
 drown misery. I do believe he is trying to give me 
 the slip, and steal into some other cabaret." She quick- 
 ened her step until Antoine turned the right corner and 
 was out of sight. "Ah, he is gone home," she said, ia
 
 JSTarka. 207 
 
 a tone of i*elief. "There is not another wine-shop be- 
 tween this and his lodging." 
 
 Life at La Villette was altogether a strange experi- 
 ence to Narka. At fii'st the aspect of the place, its sox'- 
 did ugliness, was so offensive to her taste as to be a 
 positive sufferings but she soon discovered that this suf- 
 fering had its compensations; underlying the ugliness 
 that revolted and distressed her there was a hidden 
 beauty, grander, nearer to the true ideal than the aesthet- 
 ic one that she missed; then the laborious courage of 
 the population, the kindness that springs from a sense 
 of common privation and mutual need, made a whole- 
 some and genial atmosphere; the open acceptance of a 
 hard lot, and the spectacle of general poverty unredeem- 
 ed by any prospect of escape, made her own lot seem 
 less cruel. She felt, too, more independent and secure 
 at La Villette than she had ever done at Chaillot or in 
 the Faubourg St. Germain. Hei-e she came and went 
 unmolested ; there was nothing shocking to public opin- 
 ion in a young girl's walking out alone. The utter un- 
 worldliness of the place, the absence of any necessity 
 for keeping up appearances, was in itself a rest. In 
 the early morning she went out on her little household 
 errands, and carried home her bread and her can of 
 milk, or her little basketful of marketing, and the 
 workmen's wives and daughters, bent on similar errands, 
 wished her good-morning. 
 
 As she walked through the slums, where she was like 
 no other inhabitant of the place, the people, struck by 
 her stfitely bearing, her beautiful pale face, with the 
 great eyes and the shining hair, used at first to watch 
 her out of sight as if she had been some sti-ange bird of 
 gaudy plumage flitting through their dark region and 
 brightening it for a moment. But in a little while they
 
 208 Narha. 
 
 ceased even to do this. " L'amie de ma soeur Margue- 
 rite" soon established her right of citizenship, and the 
 title was a passport to everybody's good-will. 
 
 Narka had pledged her word to Dr. Schenk that she 
 would not attempt to sing for a month from the date of 
 her recovery. Singing lessons were therefore out of the 
 question. In the mean time some of her former pupils 
 were taking German lessons. These gave her a crust 
 of bread, and, what was almost as necessary, they kept 
 her occupied. For she was terribly lonely — more lone- 
 ly than she had ever been amidst the snow-fields of 
 Yrakow. There she had her mother, but she was quite 
 alone now. It was a good thing that the struggle for 
 bare life left her little time to brood ; for body and soul 
 must be kept together, the fire must be lighted, the bit of 
 food must be cooked, the room must be swept, her shab- 
 by clothes must be kept mended, whether Basil was faith- 
 ful or not, whether Father Christopher was being beaten 
 or not, whether the Prince was cruel or relenting. And 
 in the interval of home toil there were the lessons. 
 These German lessons were no pleasure to her, as the 
 singing lessons had been. They were a mere drudgery, 
 and she was longing for the end of the month to set her 
 free to sing, not alone for the sake of the lessons, but 
 because the exex'cise of her glorious powers was in itself 
 an enjoyment. There was only one more week now to 
 wait. Then the period of dumbness would have expired. 
 
 Signor Zampa had gone away in despair on hearing 
 of the illness which had so suddenly fallen like a thun- 
 der-bolt on his brilliant scheme. He had, however, as- 
 sured Sibyl that the engagement should hold good for 
 next season, and that as soon as Narka was well enough 
 to enter on her preparatory studies he should expect 
 her to set out for Florence.
 
 JSFarka. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Marguerite was in the dispensary, measuring and 
 mixing' herbs from two green canisters, when Narka 
 came hurriedly in, and going up to her, laid a hand on 
 her arm : she seemed too agitated to speak. 
 
 "What is the matter? what has happened?" >Iar- 
 guerite asked, dropping her little shovelful of herbs back 
 into the canister. 
 
 "I have lost it ! — it is gone, clear gone !" Narka gasped. 
 
 *' The ivory box ? Basil's papers ? Oh !" 
 
 "No; my voice. I've lost it! I can't sing a note!" 
 She sat down, almost letting herself fall into a chair. 
 
 Marguerite clasped her hands. 
 
 ' ' When did you discover that it was gone ?" 
 
 "Just now; not half an hour ago. I had promised 
 not to sing a note until the month was out. Yesterday 
 was the last day, and this morning I went to the piano. 
 Not a note would come. Oh, it is too dreadful! too 
 dreadful !" 
 
 Marguerite, with an answering despair in her face, 
 stood silent, her hands still clasped. 
 
 Narka looked up, and saw the sweet brown eyes fill- 
 ing with tears; she bent forward, and let her head di*op 
 against Marguerite's arm. "Oh," she said, "what a 
 weary burden life is 1 If one might but escape from it !" 
 
 Marguerite put her arms round her, and held her 
 clasped, making a little swaying movement, as if she 
 were rocking a child. 
 
 "It is, darling," she said, softly, after a moment's si- 
 lence; "it ik very weary; but we are not carrying it 
 14
 
 210 Narka. 
 
 alone. There is One under the burden with us whose 
 help can never fail." 
 
 Narka felt the loving breast heave under her head, 
 and then two hot tears fall upon her cheek. If Mar- 
 guerite was so full of pity, why was Mai-guerite's God 
 so cruel ? 
 
 " Perhaps it is not so bad as you think," said Margue- 
 rite, presently, her sunny hopefulness and practical 
 sense coming quickly to the relief. "After all, it may 
 be only a temporary loss of voice. I knew a case like 
 that in a young chorister whom we had to nurse after a 
 typhoid fever; his voice went for some months, and he 
 was in despair; but it came back. You must see a spe- 
 cialist. There is Dr. X , who comes to the infirmary 
 
 here on Tuesday ; he is a great authority on the lungs 
 and the throat. I will speak to Sceur Jeanne and ask 
 her to arrange for you to see him here after his visit to 
 the infirmary. " 
 
 This i^ractical suggestion was just the touch that 
 Narka wanted to lift her up from the torpor of despair 
 into which the shock had thrown her. She talked it 
 over with Marguerite, asked questions about the choris- 
 ter's case; and if Marguerite strained the facts a trifle 
 to sustain the hope thej^ pointed to, tlie sin was certain- 
 ly not written down against her by the recording angel. 
 Narka went away wonderfully comforted. 
 
 The community were at once interested in her trou- 
 ble. The children were all set praying for Soeur Mar- 
 guerite's friend, and every one in the house awaited with 
 
 anxious curiosity to hear what Dr. X would say. 
 
 They had not long to wait. On Tuesday morning the 
 consultation took place. The result confirmed Margue- 
 rite's sanguine view. Dr. X was of opinion that the 
 
 loss of the voice was likely to be only temporary. The
 
 Narha. 211 
 
 organs were weakened by the severe inflammation they 
 had suffered, and rest and care would in time restore 
 their powers. If Narka had had change to the coun- 
 try and proper care during the period of convalescence, 
 the accident would most likely have been avoided. She 
 was now to think as little about it as possible, to take 
 any amusement witliin her reach, and to follow his 
 treatment carefully, and he promised tliat before long 
 her voice would be as fine as ever. 
 
 This verdict was received with joy by the whole com- 
 munity, to whom it was at once communicated by the 
 Sister Superior. Marguerite was almost as thankful as 
 Narka, and much more demonstrative in her satisfac- 
 tion, for she already believed, while Nai'ka still only 
 dared to hope. 
 
 "I wish you could have some recreation, something" 
 to take your mind off trouble and worry," she said, 
 as she and Narka sat together in the parlor after the 
 consultation. " Wbat a pity Sibyl is away! And she 
 won't stop in Paris on her way from Biarritz to Carls- 
 bad, it seems; that is, she will only just rest for the 
 night." 
 
 "I am very thankful to her for keeping out of the 
 way," said Narka; " it was irksome as well as odious to 
 me to have to play the hypocrite with her*. And what 
 else can I do now ?" Thex'e was no denying this. 
 
 "I almost wish it were the winter that was at hand, 
 and not the summer," Marguerite said; "then your old 
 pupils would be coming round you, and you would have 
 your pleasant little gatherings, as you used to have at 
 Chaillot." 
 
 Narka laughed. "I am not so silly as to expect 
 anything of that sort up here. I told you before that 
 I knew my value."
 
 212 JSFarha. 
 
 "What do you mean? The people who were fond 
 of you in one place would be fond of you in another, 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 "Yes, if they ever had been fond of me. But you 
 don't suppose the people who came after me at Chaillot 
 and made a fuss over me were fond of me ?" 
 
 "Then why did they come after you and make a fuss 
 over you ?" 
 
 Narka laughed again. "You heavenly little dunce! 
 You don't know the A B C of the gospel of this world. 
 Its catechism is Greek to you. You don't know that 
 contempt of poverty is the negative side of purse-pride, 
 and that to patronize poverty is one of the amusements 
 of the rich. You are a dunce about these things; 
 you know nothing about the vulgarities of well-bred 
 people and the cruelties of pious people. Fond of me ! 
 Poor dears ! they were fond enough of me to turn in and 
 spend a pleasant half-hour on their way to the Bois; but 
 they would not drive up to this shabby place to see me. 
 I'm not worth it." 
 
 "Then you have no loss in such butterfly friends," 
 said Marguerite; "there are better ones in store for 
 you, please God. One must always reckon on the gen- 
 erous chances of life." 
 
 "The generous chances of life !" Narka repeated, with 
 a light laugh that was very acid. "The generous 
 chances of life never come to those who want them. 
 I have found that out before this." 
 
 " I will not have you turning sour, and looking only 
 at the bad side of life and human beings," said Margue- 
 rite. 
 
 ' ' I cannot help it ; my poverty hides the other side 
 from me. But if it shuts the light out on one side, it 
 lets it in ou the other, and shows the flaws in human
 
 Karka, 213 
 
 beings as a magiiifyiiig'-glass shows the animalcula in a 
 drop of watei'. When you are poor, you see the world 
 as it really is, with its meannesses and its vulgarities 
 and its cruelties; people don't take the trouble to wear 
 a mask before you; you are not worth it; it does not 
 matter if you see the seamy side of their character; but 
 they must take pains to make it show fair to society. 
 My rich pupils and their mothers fancied the lessons 
 were all on one side; they were mistaken; they taught 
 me quite as much of their arts as I them of mine." 
 
 " All this may be very clever and sarcastic," said Mar- 
 guerite, "but it strikes me it is morbid, and not very 
 charitable. It is of no use to discover our neighbor's 
 faults unless it helps us to correct our own. There 
 is the bell! I must go to the children's singing class." 
 
 " I wish you would take me in hand, Marguerite, and 
 correct me and make me good," said Narka. "I should 
 like to be one of your orphans, and sit on a bench and 
 have you teach me to sing canticles, and scold me when 
 I was naughty." 
 
 "I'm afraid I should be scolding you from morning 
 till night," said Marguerite, tossing her head; "you 
 would never obey me without wanting to know the 
 why and the wherefore of everything." She put the 
 canisters in their place, and hurried off to the singing 
 class. 
 
 Nai'ka watched her crossing the court, her step so 
 brisk, her whole air bi*eathing the content of a life brim- 
 ful of glad activities. "Why could not I have a voca- 
 tion," Narka thought, "and join these brave women, 
 and make my life a service of love for humanity ?" She 
 sighed; but she went home with a lightened heart, as 
 she generally did from Marguerite's companionship.
 
 214 Narka. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 On entering the house Narka saw a man standing in 
 the dark entry with the bell-rope of her door in his 
 hand. At the first glance she did not recognize him. 
 It was Ivan Gorff . 
 
 She uttered an exclamation of welcoming surprise, 
 and they went in together. 
 
 " Where have you come from ?" she asked, excitedly, 
 when she had closed the door. 
 
 " From eveiy where. " 
 
 " Not. from St. Petersburg ?" 
 
 " St. Petersburg is somewhere, is it not ?" Ivan said, 
 and his face, that looked very haggai'd, was momentarily 
 brightened by one of his old frank smiles. 
 
 Narka saw there was no bad news, so she inquired 
 after his health. He shrugged his shoulders as if the 
 question were not worth either asking or answering. 
 
 " I saw Basil a fortnight ago," he said, taking compas- 
 sion on her. " He is well, and he is growing in wisdom, 
 and I might almost say in grace, for he has taken the 
 line of trying to circumvent the Prince by playing a 
 waiting game, begging for time, and laying aside the 
 defiant tone he had been fool enough to adopt a few 
 months ago. So there is an end to Kronstadt." 
 
 " Thank Heaven for that !" said Narka; "but when is 
 there going to be an end of — the rest, I wonder ? When 
 will he be free ? Will he ever be free ?" 
 
 Ivan smiled, rubbed his palms together, and bent 
 closer to her.
 
 Narka. 215 
 
 " I will tell you a secret," he said, dropping' his voice 
 to a confidential undertone. "There is a talk of the 
 Emperor coming to pay a visit to his good brother of 
 Bei'lin, and Prince Zorokoff is to accompany him, leav- 
 ing Basil behind, well watched, of course; but we may 
 outbid him, or we may outwit the police. I have a 
 plan — " He chuckled, and squeezed his flattened hands 
 between his knees as if he would have crushed them. 
 
 Narka held her breath ; she could hardly trust herself 
 to clutch at this splendid hope. 
 
 "Yes," Ivan continued, enjoying the effect he was 
 producing; "we must smuggle him out across the Aus- 
 trian frontier; then he will be safe; let them catch 
 him if they can! It has been a good thing, this time 
 he has spent at St, Petersburg-; it has opened his eyes, 
 and fitted him for the work that has to be done. When 
 he was called back and put into a court dress he was 
 in despair. He said: 'I had rather they sent me to 
 Siberia to work naked at the gold picking ! If one must 
 be a slave, it is better to be naked than to be in livery ; 
 naked, one is nearer to being a man.' But it was a 
 good thing they put him in livery; it made him feel 
 how the livery galls and pinches and degrades the man ; 
 it has made him believe all that he heard. He now 
 knows what a devil's workshop a court is ! He has seen 
 what an open door into hell it is ! He now sees that the 
 only thing to do is to burn it down, and scatter the dust 
 of it to the winds of heaven ! He has carried the war 
 into the enemy's country ; he has done wonders for the 
 cause; his brain is a forge where the iron is made 
 hot, and his pen a hammer that beats it and sends the 
 sparks flying in every direction; his hand has grown 
 strong and his nerves tough, and his arm knows where 
 to reach."
 
 216 JVarka. 
 
 Ivan clinched liis own hand and straightened out 
 his massive arm threateningly. He had grown excited 
 as he went on, till his voice was hoarse, and murder- 
 ous hate was visible in every line of his haggard face, 
 and lie was horrible to look at. 
 
 Narka knew not what to make of it. The sudden 
 outbreaking of fierce passion was the more startling 
 from its contrast with his habitual quiet bonhomie ; she 
 had never di^eamed of such fires smouldering beneath 
 the surface of Ivan's gentle nature; she admired the 
 strength that it revealed, but she was conscious of a 
 recoil from him ; a kind of chill horror crept over her, 
 as if she were being forced into tacit complicity with 
 some criminal conspiracy, or some deed of blood. 
 
 He, concenti'ated in his own passion, had not noticed 
 its effect upon her; but her long silence, after he had 
 done speaking, recalled him to himself. "Tell me 
 about you," he said, turning to her, and his counte- 
 nance changed suddenly, as if he had thrown off a 
 mask. "Why did you come to this out-of-the-way 
 place ? What are you doing u]} here ?" 
 
 She answered his inquiries by giving him the history 
 of all that had happened since they met; for he had 
 left Paris just as she w^as pronounced out of danger, 
 and had heard of her recovery from Schenk; but be- 
 yond that he knew nothing. 
 
 "You are with us at heart," he said, when she had 
 finished; "why not be with us in action? You said 
 you were ready for any woi-k that your hands or head 
 could do." 
 
 "What work can they do?" Narka asked, in vague 
 alarm. 
 
 "You could translate for us. Instead of starving on 
 the drudgery of lessons, you might earn an easy liveli-
 
 Narka. Ill 
 
 hood by translating our circulars and pamphlets from 
 Russian and German into French. We can pay well 
 for good service, and I could keep you supplied with 
 work." He plunged his hand into a capacious breast 
 pocket, pulled out a roll of manuscript, unfolded it, 
 and delibei'ately flattened it out on his knee. 
 
 Narka suddenly changed color. ' ' That is Basil's writ- 
 ing!" she cried, putting out her hand to seize the paper. 
 
 " It is his writing, and it is his composition. I risked 
 my head travelling with it. If it had been found, it 
 would have been as good as a charge of dynamite under 
 my chair." He handed her the paper. 
 
 Narka devoured the well-known writing with hungry 
 eyes ; it was almost like seeing Basil himself, like touch- 
 ing his hand. 
 
 Ivan's face, as he watched her, reflected transparently 
 the battle of courage against pain that was being fought 
 out within him; his brow contracted, while a smile of 
 infantine hilarity made his eyes shine. After watch- 
 ing her for a moment he looked away, as if he could 
 bear it no longer. 
 
 "There is to be a meeting on the 15th," he said, fum- 
 bling in his pockets, " and I want to have that ready to 
 distribute at it; so set to work and translate it at ouce. 
 By-the-way, why should not you come to this meeting ? 
 You would learn something of what is being done; you 
 would hear what Basil is doing, and see the position he 
 holds among us." 
 
 "I should like greatly to go," Narka said, looking 
 up from the manuscript with a certain hesitation. Her 
 will was, in truth, pulled by opposite forces of terror and 
 desire ; she longed to be useful in the cause for which 
 Basil was risking his life and liberty, but she shrank 
 before the mystery that hung like a black curtain be-
 
 218 Narka. 
 
 tween her and the means and agencies it employed. 
 Who were these peo^jle she was going to associate her- 
 self with ? Desperadoes, pi'obably, who shrank from 
 nothing. Still, if they were Basil's fellow-workers — 
 
 " I will come and fetch you," said Ivan, his quick eye 
 detecting the conflict in her mind; "we can go in to- 
 gether, and you can come away whenever you feel in- 
 clined. We sha'n't be more than a few score." 
 
 And so it was settled that she would go.
 
 JVarka. 219 
 
 CHAPTEB XXVII. 
 
 The meeting was to be held in the Quartier Latin, 
 close to the Russian Library. On the appointed even- 
 ing Ivan called for Narka, and they drove there in a cab. 
 It drew up before an old-fashioned gateway, and Ivan 
 led the way up a dark, slippery stair to an entresol, 
 where they entered a low-ceiled room lighted with gas. 
 The artificial glare, after the golden light of the summer 
 evening, had a sinister effect, and lent an additional 
 air of mystery to the place and the opportunity, which 
 impressed Narka's excited imagination. 
 
 There were about a dozen persons already present, 
 some of them women. Every eye was turned on her, 
 and the women looked eager to claim acquaintance; but 
 Ivan Gorff, after exchanging greetings with the men 
 he knew, sat down beside her, placing his chair so as to 
 barricade her against approach, and then engaged her 
 in confidential talk. The room filled quickly ; still they 
 seemed to be waiting for some one who had not yet ar- 
 rived. Presently the door opened, and Dr. Schenk ap- 
 peared. It was not a pleasant surprise to Narka; but 
 it was not as disagreeable as it might have been under 
 other circumstances. She did not like Schenk, though 
 she was grateful to him for the care he had taken of 
 her in her illness; but she was glad to see him make 
 his way round and take a seat beside her. His presence 
 seemed a protection. Never had she found herself 
 amidst such an assembly of vulgar, vicious, desperate-
 
 220 Narka. 
 
 looking hnman beings as those whocomposed this meet- 
 ing. The first impression of mistrust was gradually 
 giving way to one of horror and amazement. They 
 were all talking at the top of their voices, gesticulating 
 in an excited manner; they seemed to be discussing ev- 
 ery subject under the sun, if incoherent remarks and 
 wild rant could be called discussion ; it was difficult to 
 believe such an assembly could have any serious pur- 
 pose in view, or that the members were capable of wise 
 and concerted action. When it was ascei'tained that the 
 meeting was full, the door w^as locked, and some one 
 stamped on the floor and then knocked on the table, 
 and clamored for silence in 'order that the speaking 
 might begin. 
 
 The first speaker was an elderly Russian, a tall, mas- 
 sively built man, with a quantity of black beard growing 
 all over his face, and through this his sharp, rat-like 
 eyes and exceedingly red nose peered like live things 
 through a jungle. He read some reports from distant 
 members, scarcely intelligible to Narka, but evidently 
 of interest to the company. The speaker alluded proud- 
 ly to his having been fifteen years at the hulks — a fact 
 which evidently gave him a standing, as one entitled 
 by experience to hold a heavy brief against the tyrants. 
 The time had come, he said, for overturning that great 
 collective tyrant called Society, and the woi-k demanded 
 stout hearts and steady hands. The stamping and ap- 
 plause which emphasized this remark left no doubt as 
 to the assent of the hearts and hands of the company. 
 
 "Those," continued the speaker, when quiet was re- 
 stored, "who possess what by right belongs to humanity 
 call our work crime, and hunt us down. But if we are 
 guilty, who are the true criminals ? If our deeds are 
 >bloody, on whose head will be the blood we shed ? They
 
 Narka. 221 
 
 goad us to madness, and when we strike in self-defence 
 they call us I'obbers and assassins; they murder us in 
 the name of justice!" 
 
 The old convict went ranting on in the same style, his 
 voice growing louder as he proceeded, until it reached 
 a shout ; his gestures, at first heavy and emphatic, gi*ew 
 rapid and vehement, till his Herculean arms leaped and 
 lashed about like the wings of a mill blown this way 
 and that by contrary winds. 
 
 Ivan GorTf joined in the general applause, laughing 
 and clapping hands as if the whole thing had been a 
 clever farce. Schenk sat with his arms crossed, impas- 
 sive and silent. 
 
 The next speaker was a very different type. He also 
 was Russian, but young (about thirty), with a battered, 
 consumptive countenance, and faded blond coloring; 
 he was nobly born, had ruined himself by gambling, 
 and been driven from sheer want into the business of 
 patriotism; but he attributed his misfoi'tune to the evil 
 influences of the court — he had once succeeded in get- 
 ting an invitation to a state ball at the Winter Palace — 
 and felt that his destiny was to denounce the foul cor- 
 ruption of courts and the vices of kings, and to serve 
 the noble cause of revolution by holding himself up as 
 an awful example. He was interrupted by fits of cough- 
 ing, and the intervals were filled with frantic applause 
 from the meeting. 
 
 " It is some consolation to know," he continued, "that 
 others are carrying on the war in the very heart of the 
 citadel, and fighting in the foul atmosphere of courts 
 against those infernal agencies. One of our country- 
 men is giving a glorious example of self-sacrifice and 
 courage in propagating the gospel of Hate under the 
 roof of the tyrant, and mining the ground under his
 
 222 Narha. 
 
 feet. My friend and heroic brother in arms, Basil 
 Zorokoflf-" 
 
 A faint, inarticulate cry from a corner of the room 
 was instantly drowned in a loud and prolonged burst of 
 applause from Ivan Gorff, and this was the signal for 
 a general storm of enthusiasm, before which the con- 
 sumptive speaker, already exhausted, collapsed. 
 
 Tlie hubbub might have lasted indefinitely if Schenk 
 had not risen, and, with one liand in his breast, and the 
 other uplifted to command silence, made evident his 
 intention to speak. The effect was immediate. The 
 clamorous tongues were hushed, and silence reigned in 
 the room. Sclienk sj)oke with a quiet power that was 
 impressive; his accent was slightly German; his voice 
 clear and distinct; his speech simple and direct, like 
 that of a man who is too sure of the strength of his 
 subject to care to borrow any aid from rhetoric or ges- 
 ticulation. 
 
 "We are a company of martyrs, " he said, ' ' self -elected 
 victims in the great cause of Humanity. Let every man 
 keep this grand ideal well before him. Our duty is to 
 annihilate self in the service of the general good. The 
 claims of the universal brotherhood must swallow up 
 every other claim. Every creed and code and prejudice 
 must succumb at their bidding. In the interests of our 
 noble cause we must be ready, at mid-day or at mid- 
 night, to sacrifice self. We must be ready to do and 
 to suffer things hard and vile and hideous. The men 
 and women who join us must hold their lives in their 
 hands, and be ready to fling them away at an hour's 
 notice. They must be prepared to suffer hunger and 
 thirst, to endure heat and cold, to give their flesh to 
 the iron and the scourge, and their good name to, the 
 dogs; to be accursed by their kindred; to be accoimted
 
 Narha. 223 
 
 infamous by the good and virtuous; to be alone in life 
 and in death. All this they must be ready to accept 
 who cast in their lot with us. If there be any among 
 us whose spirit quails before the prospect, let him go no 
 farther, but leave us before it be too late. Let no man 
 or woman who cannot face with unflinching nerve the 
 issues that await them run the risk of betraying the 
 cause, and incurring the traitors death." 
 
 Scheuk paused, as if waiting for an answer. It came 
 in a loud shout of assent from every side. With a quiet 
 gesture he imposed silence, and went on : 
 
 " If we are all sure of ourselves, we need fear nothing. 
 No man can hurt us. They can do no more than kill us, 
 and we are willing to be killed. However black in the 
 eyes of men, we are white and clean before Heaven and 
 our own conscience. And we stand all equal as ser- 
 vants in the grand cause. The lowest among us who 
 runs the same risks, deserves the same honor as the 
 Prince who is working in the high places. The only 
 standard we recognize is patriotism; the value of each 
 man is measured by the service he renders to the gen- 
 eral cause. " 
 
 Schenk then proceeded to read letters and reports; 
 but Narka did not hear them. She was reeling from 
 the shock that his speech had dealt her; she felt like a 
 person who had been led blindfold into a quagmire, 
 and who, when the bandage was removed, saw no way 
 out of it. What could Ivan's motive have been in lead- 
 ing her into such a place ? He had, indeed, prepared 
 her vaguely by mysterious hints ; but she never dreamed 
 of anything so reckless of morality as this policy ex- 
 pounded by Schenk. And it looked as if Schenk had 
 seized with avidity the opportunity of lighting up the 
 depths of the abyss on the brink of which she stood, and
 
 224 Narha. 
 
 showing lier what kind of solidarity she incurred and 
 what risks she ran in throwing in her lot with him and 
 his associates. And these men were Basil's friends ! It 
 was impossible ! Yet there was his pamphlet. True, it 
 did not contain anything like Schenk's cold-blooded gos- 
 pel of crime; it was only an eloquent appeal to his coun- 
 trymen to rise and assert their dignity as men, and their 
 freedom as citizens ; it dealt witli abstract ideas and prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 Narka in her bewilderment could not, perhaps w^ould 
 not, see that Schenk's concrete code was only the logical 
 outcome of Basil's abstract principles. Suddenly the 
 thought of LarchofP flashed through her mind. She 
 felt sick with doubt and terror. 
 
 Schenk sat down, and then Olga Borzidoff rose to 
 speak. This woman was a friend of Dr. Schenk's, and 
 had kept her eyes on Narka from the first with a glance 
 which, if Narka had noticed it, would have frightened 
 her more than anything she had seen or heard at the 
 meeting. Olga BorzidofP, after draining the cup of plea- 
 sure to the dregs, had taken to the game of patriotism 
 in search of a new sensation; but she played badly, 
 got caught, and only escaped with her life, owing to 
 a timely warning from one of the Emperor's aides-de- 
 camp. Her fortune was confiscated, but the sale of her 
 jewels gave her an income which enabled her to play 
 the grande dame amongst the bankrupt pariahs into 
 whose society slie had fallen. She had once been hand- 
 some, but now at forty she was a bold, hard-featured, 
 painted coquette. 
 
 She opened her speech by an attack on men, denoun- 
 cing the despotism they exercised over women, and 
 declaring that the emancipation of her sex must be a 
 prelude to the emancipation of her country and man-
 
 JVarka. 225 
 
 kind, and that her eflPorts and those of her sisters should 
 tend in that direction. A violent, ranting rigmarole. 
 
 After this shrieking sister, a pale-faced, blue-eyed Ger- 
 man stood up. She acknowledged that she was a 
 woman, timid and cowardly, and therefore had no right 
 to put herself forward ; still, trusting to the chivalrous 
 indulgence of the stronger sex, she dared to lift up her 
 voice and adjure them to make haste in their grand 
 mission of social reform ; their action had hitherto been 
 circumscribed by scruples of compassion which were in 
 reality the promptings of cowardice. They shrank from 
 sacrificing harmless men and women, forgetting that 
 the death of one tyrant was such a gain to humanity 
 as to be cheaply bought b5^ the sacrifice of a thousand 
 lives; it would benefit millions yet unborn. Let this 
 thought nerve their arm for the slaughter that must be 
 accomplished if the world was to be cleansed of the race 
 of tyrants and aristocrats, etc., etc., etc. 
 
 The blue-eyed woman's voice had a lachrymose trem- 
 ble in it that was full of pathos. It reminded Narka 
 of the serpent beseeching Eve to eat to the death of the 
 human race. 
 
 Several other speakers followed ; chiefly French, all 
 young men, evidently of the declasse type. One after 
 another they stood up and raved and ranted ; they were 
 full of their own imj)ortance, ready for any enterprise, 
 absolutely reckless of consequences ; light-headed fools, 
 seemingly more hungry and discontented than wicked — 
 a wonderful company to undertake the redemption of 
 their respective nations. 
 
 Ivan GorfP had not spoken, except that short parley 
 improvised to screen Narka when she had nearly betray- 
 ed herself. He rose now, and said he had something to 
 communicate before they separated. There was a gen- 
 15
 
 226 Narha. 
 
 eral assent, and he proceeded to read out, in his deep, me- 
 tallic voice, Basil's pamphlet translated. The effect was 
 electric. The language had seemed inspiring to Narka 
 when she -read it alone; hut, declaimed by Ivan to this 
 excited and responsive audience, its eloquence was like 
 fire and dancing flames. The reading was all along 
 punctuated by "bravos" and suppressed cheers; the 
 meeting could hardly restrain its enthusiasm within 
 bounds, and the moment Ivan had done, the applause 
 burst out like a torrent let loose. The pamphlets were 
 seized upon as if they had been loaves of bread thrown 
 to starving men; the company embraced one another; 
 they kissed the pamphlet; they made every demon- 
 stration of wild delight. * 
 
 Under cover of the general hubbub Ivan said to 
 Narka, "Let us slip away." 
 
 Schenk, who was before her, moved on at once, and 
 Olga Borzidoff, whose eyes had never left the group, 
 pushed quickly toward the door and met them. 
 
 "Present us to one another," she said to Schenk, put- 
 ting her hand on his arm ; but Schenk moved on as if he 
 had not heard. " Let us introduce ourselves," said Olga. 
 " I am Olga Borzidoff. What is our new sister's name?" 
 
 " Narka Larik," replied the new sister, coldly. 
 
 Ivan pushed her gently on, remarking that it was 
 later than he thought. It was pitch-dark on the stairs. 
 Schenk struck a match, and nursed the little flame, that 
 Narka might see where to step; but the light, after a 
 moment, went out. 
 
 "Take my arm," said Schenk. "I know the way. I 
 will guide you." 
 
 They were groping their way, Ivan following, when a 
 hand was laid on his shoulder, and a woman's voice said, 
 " I want a word with you." He stood at her bidding.
 
 Narka. 227 
 
 Nai'ka got safe down, thanks to Schenk's steady guid- 
 ance. When they emerged into the court below, the 
 moon was high and the dark blue heaven was full of 
 stars. 
 
 "Here we are, a riveder le stelleP'' he said, drawing 
 a deep breath. 
 
 In spite of the horror with which his speech had so 
 lately inspired her, Narka for a moment felt in sym- 
 pathy with him ; the beautiful quotation seemed to strike 
 a sursum corda that lifted her spirit out of the dense 
 atmosphere in which she had been morally and physic- 
 ally stifling. 
 
 They stood and looked back, expecting Ivan to fol- 
 low ; but he did not appear, and the others were hurry- 
 ing down. 
 
 "We had better not wait here," said Schenk. 
 "Come on, and I will put you into a cab." 
 
 They went out, and he hailed one. As he was closing 
 the door upon Narka, he said, "It is very late for you 
 to go such a long drive alone; you had better let me 
 see you home." And without waiting for her answer, 
 he jumped in beside her. 
 
 Neither of them broke silence until they alighted 
 at Narka's door. Then Schenk wished her good-night, 
 and walked back alone in the starlight.
 
 228 Narha. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 The meeting in the Quartier Latin had one good ef- 
 fect on Narka: it forced her thoughts into a new chan- 
 nel, and made it easier for her to obey the doctor's in- 
 junction of thinking as little as possible about her lost 
 voice. That extraordinary scene, and the sudden and 
 dangerous current it had introduced into her life, absorb- 
 ed her so completely that all other thoughts wei-e for the 
 moment crowded out of sight. But she felt more alone 
 since her solitude had become peopled by this multitude 
 of unbidden presences. A new sense of loneliness, 
 of isolation, came to her with the louging to discount 
 these too vivid emotions, to silence these haunting rev- 
 elations and shadowy presentments by sharing them 
 with some one whom she could trust, and who would 
 understand, whose sympathy or v?hose contradiction, 
 whose indignant denunciation even, might help her to 
 adjust the balance of things, and bring them to their true 
 proportion. It is so much harder to battle through 
 these spectral crowds alone I 
 
 Narka tried to escape from her beleaguered solitude 
 by occupying herself, and being as much as possible 
 out-of-doors. One of the few helpful recreations within 
 her reach was a visit to the Louvre. She took the 
 onmibus one morning and drove there. The serene at- 
 mosphere of the galleries soothed her, the brooding pre- 
 sence of the dead masters, who were still so living, ex- 
 orcised the evil spirits and scared them away. Narka 
 had never held a brush, but her delight in the art was
 
 JVarka. 229 
 
 genuine. She loved some of the pictures as if they were 
 living persons who felt her enthusiasm, and might be 
 touched by it. The Murillos were her chief delight; 
 sometimes it almost seemed to her that she might 
 awake or trouble the sleep of the dead painter in being 
 so deeply moved by his inspired renderings. She lin- 
 gered long before them to-day, and though tired physic- 
 ally from standing about so many hours, she felt re- 
 freshed and rested in spirit when she left the place. 
 
 She was turning into the Tuileries gardens when a 
 gentleman, liurrying out, met her. It was Dr. Schenk. 
 Narka had not seen either him or Ivan Gorff since the 
 meeting. 
 
 "I am so glad to meet you!" he said, cordially. 
 "Shall we sit down and chat for a moment ?" 
 
 There was a bench close by, under the broad shade of 
 a chestnut-tree. Narka was not sorry to sit down and 
 rest a little. 
 
 "I need not ask what you thought of the company 
 the other evening," Schenk said, entering at once on 
 the subject. 
 
 Narka's level brows went up expressively. "It was 
 not so much the company, even, as the doctrines, that 
 took me by surprise," she answered. 
 
 " You were not prepared to find them so advanced ? 
 Ivan ought to have been more outspoken and explicit 
 with you. You were hardly strong enough to bear the 
 shock of being brought in contact with the reality so 
 suddenly. I took for granted that you had come there 
 with your eyes open, and I was surprised to see you, 
 I confess. However, as you have been taken behind the 
 curtain, you must just accept the fact that there is an 
 ugly side to patriotism when it has to work in secret. 
 But though the patriotism that goes forth to the roll of
 
 230 Narha. 
 
 drums and the braj^ing of trumpets looks a more respect- 
 able thing-, it is far less worthy in reality than ours, that 
 gets no reward but scorn and stripes ; we at least despise 
 the conventional fallacy that goes by the name of 
 honor ; we trample that cant and the rest of the world's 
 jugglery and caricaturing under our feet, and we bring 
 on ourselves the odium of the result for a purely im- 
 personal gain. I perceive you have a great deal to learn 
 as to our principle of action," he added, reading, with 
 his habitual intuition, on Narka's features the conflict 
 between utter revulsion and reluctant admiration that 
 he was exciting in her; " you have taken a perilous step 
 in joining us, but you will trust me and let me be your 
 friend — " 
 
 "I hope our new sister will trust us all as friends," 
 said a woman's voice behind them. 
 
 Before turning round to see who it was, Narka had 
 recognized Olga Borzidoff. She started and colored. 
 
 Schenk stood up. "What brings you here ?" he said, 
 in a low tone that had something dangerously fierce 
 in it. 
 
 "Precisely what brings you here," she replied, in a 
 high, insolent key: "the desire to converse with Made- 
 moiselle Larik." 
 
 "I had business to discuss with mademoiselle." 
 
 "So have I. Perhaps you won't mind our discussing 
 it together ?" 
 
 " Good-morning, monsieur," said Narka, and quiver- 
 ing with anger and wounded pride, she walked away. 
 
 That bold, bad woman's stare was like the touch of an 
 unclean thing. She could not forgive Ivan Gorff for 
 subjecting her to the humiliation of such a contact. 
 Why had he entrapped her so treacherously into this 
 secret congregation of disreiDutable men and women ?
 
 Narka. 231 
 
 What sort of good were such people capable of effecting 
 for their country ? And Basil was working in common 
 with them ! 
 
 All the way to La Villette, as the omnibus rolled 
 along, Narka pi'otested inwardly against this unworthy 
 comradeship, and upbraided Ivan Goi'flP. But on reach- 
 ing home she found that Ivan had called and left a 
 sealed parcel for her. She opened it and saw Basil's 
 handwriting. In an instant all her anger vanished, 
 and she could feel nothing but gratitude toward the 
 man who had brought this joy into her life. 
 
 She sat down and devoured the manuscript. It was 
 just what she wanted to restore her bruised self-respect 
 and reconcile her to the irreconcilable. The article 
 was a powerful and impassioned piece of writing; but it 
 remained, like the preceding one, in the abstract, dealing 
 with principles, and enlarging on the degrading effect of 
 tyranny upon the moral nature of a people. Here was 
 the wisdom, the sagacity, the courage, the dominant 
 mind of the true patriot. This was the gold in the 
 dross. Narka set to work at once on the translation, 
 happy in the consciousness that she was putting her 
 hand to the plough with Basil, and driving the share 
 through the smoking soil, while he cast the seed into 
 the furrow.
 
 232 Narha, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Narka had not been to see Marguerite since the meet- 
 ing. If any one had asked her why, she would have 
 said it was because she had been busy, or absent at Mar- 
 guerite's convenient hours for seeing her. But the true 
 though unacknowledged reason was that she shrank 
 from the contact. Marguerite's pure and uncompro- 
 mising oi'thodoxies somehow always rebuked her like 
 a living conscience; and now that her mind had become 
 tainted with guilty knowledge, and was tacitly, half- 
 consciously, conniving at it, she did not dare intrude 
 herself on a life that was filled from morning till night 
 with placid sanctities, sweet and common as daisies in 
 the grass, and wholesome as a field of new-mown hay. 
 She was afraid to meet those true, innocent eyes that 
 were bubbling up with happiness and trust in God and 
 man, like clear fountains in the sunlight. She avoided 
 Marguerite since she had set lier foot upon the down- 
 ward path. For Narka knew that it was a downwai'd 
 path. Those articles of Basil's had fanned the flame 
 of her love and fired her imagination, but they had not 
 blinded her reason. She saw clearly enough the logical 
 link between those blood-stirring appeals and the doc- 
 trines enunciated at the meeting. 
 
 Marguerite, meantime, was too busy to go to people 
 who were able to come to her. She heard fi'om Ma- 
 dame Blaquette that Narka was well and out every day, 
 and this was enough. She had, moreover, heavier cares 
 than usual pressing on her for the moment. La Villette 
 was "nervous"; in other words, it was making ready
 
 Karka. 233 
 
 for a revolution. The elders of the commuuity, enlight- 
 ened by past experiences, recognized signs and sjmibols 
 which Marguerite's quick intuition could not have failed, 
 even without this warning, to notice. The district echo- 
 ed with sounds and silences that were not to be mis- 
 taken. The wine-shops were crowded late and early, 
 and through their closed doors there came reverbera- 
 tions of that alcoholic oratory which to the Parisian 
 ouvrier is like a lighted match put to powder. A more 
 significant sign to Marguerite was that the orators avoid- 
 ed her. Slie noticed that men who habitually met her 
 with a bright kindly woi'd now turned round the cor- 
 ner when they saw her in the distance, or, if they came 
 up with her unexpectedly, hurried on with a curt salu- 
 tation. Clearly they were fighting shy of her, and she 
 read the reason in their sullen averted faces and in 
 the troubled eyes of the women. 
 
 Madame Blaquette, whom Narka frequently met com- 
 ing in and out, seemed much alarmed, and hinted at 
 some great impending catastrophe; but Madame Bla- 
 quette was so well known as a croaker and an alarmist 
 that no one paid any heed to what she said. One 
 afternoon she came against Narka in the entry, and 
 clutched her arm in great excitement: " Oh, mademoi- 
 selle, we have had the narrowest escape! Just think! 
 The house opposite is watched by the police, and such 
 odd-looking people have been hanging about! Three 
 days ago a box was brought to a man who lodged there 
 a month back. They wouldn't take it in, so tlie porter 
 carried it over here, and said if I kept it for a couple 
 of days it would be called for. I, never suspecting any- 
 thing, took it into my room, and this morning it sud- 
 denly occuri'ed to me that it might be an infernal ma- 
 chine!"
 
 234 Karha. 
 
 " Oh !" cried Narka, with a gesture of dismay. 
 
 " I went off at once to the commissaire de police, and 
 he went to the Prefecture, and thi'ee ixien came just now 
 and carried it into the back yard, and took all sorts of 
 precautions in opening, for if it had exploded, you know, 
 the whole street would have blown up !" 
 
 "But it didn't explode ?" 
 
 ' ' Oh no ; it was a sewing-machine. But only think 
 if it had been the other!" 
 
 "But it wasn't the other," said Narka, half amused, 
 and half vexed at having been so taken in. 
 
 "All the same, we have been most mercifully pre- 
 served," insisted Madame Blaquette, "for it migJit have 
 been the other, and I might have been buried at this mo- 
 ment under the ruins of my own roof. We ought to 
 be on our knees thanking God." 
 
 Narka, with an impatient shrug, passed on, laughing, 
 into her room. As she took off her things she looked 
 out at the house opposite. It was a dingy, disrepu- 
 table looking house, with a battered face, and windows 
 so crusted with dirt you could not have seen through 
 them — a house that looked as if it might want watching; 
 but probably there was as much foundation for its bad 
 character as for the providential escape from the sewing- 
 machine. 
 
 She was turning from the window, when she observed 
 an unusual movement outside; a number of gamins 
 were rushing to stare at something; presently an open 
 carriage with liveried servants drew up before her door. 
 Flushed and excited, she went to receive Sibyl. 
 
 " Oh, my darling, what a funny place you have come 
 to !" exclaimed Sibyl, looking I'ound her like a person be- 
 wildered. 
 
 "Yes," said Narka, with a constrained laugh, "it is
 
 KarJca. 235 
 
 a funny place for you to come to pay a visit. I wondei' 
 what your servants think of it ?" 
 
 * ' My servants ? I sliould as soon think of wondering 
 what my horses thought of it!" 
 
 Narka laughed agfiin. "Yes," she said to hei'self, 
 " horses and servants are the same sort of cattle to you, 
 only with different prices." 
 
 They sat down, Sibyl glancing round her with a kind 
 of half- alarmed curiosity. 
 
 " Do you know, I am very angry with you," she said. 
 "What business had you to steal a march on me and 
 come off to this outlandish place the moment my back 
 was turned ?" 
 
 "I was obliged to come away; I could not remain 
 where I was." 
 
 "You might have gone down to Beaucrillon and 
 waited there. Have you made a vow never to come and 
 stay with me ?" 
 
 Narka made no answer for a moment. Then looking 
 at Sibyl with an expression lialf grave, half comical, 
 "Do you remember," she said, "how we laughed over 
 that remark of Madame de Stael's, that a woman who 
 was unhappy with her husband ought never to leave 
 him for a day, becavise it made it so much worse for her 
 when she had to come back to him ?" 
 
 "Where is the bad husband here ?" said Sibyl, glan- 
 cing round as if she half expected to see him hiding 
 somewhere. " Have you gone and married unbeknown 
 to me ?" 
 
 "The husband is only a figure," replied Narka. 
 "The fact is, the contrast between my life and yours 
 is too great, the charm and splendor of your home 
 make the hurry-scurry and sordid vulgarities of my 
 own look worse to me. I have made up my mind
 
 236 Narha. 
 
 not to risk it, not to try to snatch at what has been so 
 completely taken from me. It is much better for me 
 to stay in my own corner and toil and moil, and never 
 try to escape, and put on my silk gown and sit idle like 
 a lady. I feel such a sham when I go to you and play 
 the lady!" 
 
 "What nonsense you are talking! You are a sham 
 when you try not to play the lady, as you call it. Your 
 ladyhood is as inalienable as the shape of your eyes or 
 the color of your hair. I don't know what you mean 
 by sordid vulgarity; a life of intellectual labor is not 
 sordid or vulgar. It has always seemed to me a grand 
 thing to owe everything to one's self. I should have 
 been very proud if I could have earned my own living." 
 
 The sentiment was sublimely absurd in Sibyl's mouth, 
 and yet it did Narka good to hear her speak so. It 
 raised her in her own eyes to hear Sibyl say that work- 
 ing for bread was a grand thing. There was still a vir- 
 tue in Sibyl's touch that was like nothing else. 
 
 They talked about other things, and then Sibyl said: 
 " And Marguerite ? You see her often ? How is she ?" 
 
 "I hope she is well, for she works like a little pony. 
 She is goodness itself to me." 
 
 "I am so glad, darling! But Marguerite is an angel." 
 
 "I kiiew that already; but I have discovered here 
 that she is a genius. She would have made a first-rate 
 queen. She has a genius for governing. If you could 
 see how she manages the roughs and the drunkards! 
 The people positively worship her ; there are all sorts 
 of stories abroad about the miracles Soeur Marguerite 
 Vforks; how she multiplies the soup and the rations be- 
 yond all natural explanation. Where she gets the 
 money for all she gives away in food and clothing is 
 certainly a kind of miracle."
 
 JSFarka. 237 
 
 "Oh, she is not a bad beggai*!" said Sibyl, laughing; 
 "her genius extends in that direction too. I must go 
 in and see lier on my way home." Then, taking Narka's 
 hand in her own, "But tell me about your voice, dear- 
 est ?" she said, anxiously; "I have been haunted by 
 the thought ever since I heard from Marguerite that 
 you had lost it. How I did long to fly to you that 
 moment and hold your hand while you were passing 
 through that terrible anguish of the first discovery! 
 But it is sure to come back. Have you tried it since 
 then ?" 
 
 Before Narka could answer, there was a quick tap at 
 the window, which was only a few feet from the ground 
 outside, and something like a great white wing fluttered 
 past. 
 
 "It is Marguerite," said Narka; and, doubly glad of 
 the interruption, she went to let her in. 
 
 The cornette seemed to bring in the sunshine with it. 
 
 "I guessed who was responsible for the scandal of a 
 powdered flunky in this respectable neighborhood," said 
 Marguerite. "Who ever thought of your ladyship's 
 being in town at this time of year? Business ? Well, 
 Narka is not so badly ofP, you see?" and she glanced 
 admiringly round the room, to which, in spite of its tiled 
 floor and whitewashed walls, the grand piano under 
 its rich embroidered cover, and flowers and books about, 
 gave a gracious, home-like air. 
 
 " If the outside were only as good as the inside. But 
 what an awful nelghborliood it is!" said Sibyl, lifting 
 up her hands. "As I drove up here the wickedness 
 of the people's faces, the way they scowled at me, made 
 me shudder." 
 
 "You need not have shuddered," said Marguerite, 
 with a little toss of her head. " The worst of our people
 
 238 Narha. 
 
 up here is they are not hypocrites; tliey wear their 
 wickedness outside instead of in ; but half the time it is 
 pain tliat makes them scowl, poor creatures! When 
 hunger is griping a man's inside, it is enough to make 
 him scowl. I'm sure it would me." 
 
 "You always stand up for your people here," said 
 Sibyl, "but you know very well, dear, they are the 
 scum of the city." 
 
 " I know nothing of the sort; they may be the dregs, 
 but they certainly are not the scum — the scum is at the 
 top. You must look to our monde for that." 
 
 " We don't get drunk, at any rate." 
 
 "Humph !" Marguerite remembered certain traits de 
 mceurs she had heai'd at Yrakow, and admired Sibyl's 
 impudence. "Perhaps it would be better for them if 
 they did," she said, defiantly. "I know a few respect- 
 able Pharisees whom I should love to make so drunk 
 that they would roll under the table. That might take 
 the pride out of them, and send them up to the Temple 
 to strike their bi'easts and get justified." 
 
 Narka burst out laughing. "The Pharisees get no 
 quarter from Marguerite," she said. 
 
 Sibyl looked half inclined to be angry. "Well, if she 
 is fond of publicans, I should think she is satisfied up 
 here. The shouts and yells from the wine-shops as I 
 came along were perfectly awful. It reminded me of 
 the shrieks of the damned." 
 
 "That can't be a pleasant noise," said Marguerite; 
 ' ' but I would rather hear that than the laughter of the 
 damned." 
 
 " I did not know they ever laughed in hell." 
 
 "I fancy they do now and then; I fancy that when 
 the Pharisees &re stripped of their shams and shown up 
 naked at the judgment-seat, their countenances on find-
 
 Narha. 239 
 
 ing themselves iu that predicament must be a sight to 
 make even the poor devils laugh." 
 
 "The poor devils ? Well, if you are going to stand 
 up for the devils !" 
 
 "It would be a good thing for us if we had their 
 zeal and their perseverance," retorted Marguerite. 
 
 "You need not envy them their spirit of contradic- 
 tion, at any rate," said Sibyl, good-humoredly, feeliug 
 that she had made a hit. 
 
 "Give it up, Sibyl — give it up," said Narka, triumph- 
 ing with Marguerite, who had had the best of it up to 
 this. 
 
 But Marguerite had not thought of triumphing; she 
 only thought of defending her poor people. ' ' What 
 news have you fi'om St. Petersburg ?" she asked, turning 
 the conversation. 
 
 Sibyl slowly lifted her shoulders, and with a sigh 
 slowly let them down. "I'm afraid my father is grow- 
 ing weak. Basil has persuaded him to wait and give 
 him time to live down his foolish passion. I fear Basil 
 has entangled himself deeper, and in more waj's than 
 we suspected. And he has broken through all restraint 
 with my father, and rails against the tyranny of the 
 Emperor and the miserable condition of the people, and 
 goes on like a lunatic. The wonder is that my father 
 bears it. But the wonder of all is that any one so 
 clever as Basil can be such a fool ! As if our moujiks 
 wanted to be free ! As if they would know what to do 
 with themselves if they were sent adrift to-morrow 
 like English or French peasants ! To give them perfect 
 freedom would be to make them miserable." 
 
 "My dear Sibyl," Narka protested, with a ringing 
 laugh, "would a lark be miserable if you opened its 
 cage and set it f I'ee ?"
 
 240 Narka. 
 
 " Yes, it would, if it had been born in a cage. That 
 is what you and Basil don't consider." (How that "you 
 and Basil" made Narka's heart leap !) " Human beings, 
 like animals, are only happy in the conditions they are 
 born to. A savage is happy in savage conditions; our 
 civilized ways would be misery to him. Fancy a red 
 Indian, roaming through his forests in a bead necklace, 
 suddenly trapped, and his free limbs packed into panta- 
 loons and top-boots!" 
 
 "We Russians are not quite red Indians," said Narka. 
 "We have been slowly educated up to top-boots these 
 fifty years past." 
 
 " C/nfortunately !" said Sibyl, with intense emphasis. 
 " Our people were much happier before they ever heard 
 of top-boots. They were content with their lot, just as 
 the camel that toils all his life through the desert is 
 content ; but if you bring a camel up as a pet to eat and 
 drink and lie in the shade, and then load him and turn 
 him out into the desert to tramp without water under a 
 vertical sun, do you think he would be content ?" 
 
 "He would be a great fool if he were. But what 
 does that prove ? — that the majority of human beings 
 ought to be treated like camels ?" 
 
 "They ought not to be unfitted for their allotted 
 work." 
 
 " Allotted? Who allotted it? When God created the 
 world did He allot the millions as camels to the tens? 
 Did He authorize you to treat the people as cattle?" 
 
 "I don't think we ever treated our people as cattle," 
 said Sibyl, surprised and resentful. 
 
 "You did not; but others around you did, and you 
 might if you had chosen. I don't believe God ever 
 meant to place the majority of His children in jeopardy 
 to tljat choice."
 
 Narha. 241 
 
 There was a passionate vibration in Narka's voice that 
 reminded Sibyl how cruelly the choice had been used 
 against her kindi'ed. The remembrance smote Sibyl's 
 heart, if not her conscience. There was an awkward 
 silence, when Marguerite exclaimed: "Good gracious! 
 is that three o'clock? I had only meant to stay ten 
 minutes, and you have beguiled me into wasting twenty ! 
 Dear Sibyl, you will be interested to hear that I am as 
 poor as a rat, and ready for any spare cash you may 
 want to get rid of. I just mention it in case you should 
 not like to ask me. Now I must be off!" She kissed 
 her and hurried away, 
 
 "Where is she going in such a hurry?" inquired 
 Sibyl, when Narka returned, after having closed the 
 door. 
 
 "She is gone to dress the wound of a carter whose leg 
 was smashed under a stone, and then amputated. It is 
 a frightful case. Marguerite dresses the wound twice a 
 day." 
 
 Sibyl shuddered. "It is extraordinaiy how hard 
 Marguerite has grown; she can stand by without win- 
 cing, and look on at those horrors, while the very sight 
 of blood makes me sick! But it is much better for one's 
 self and ethers not to be so tender-hearted. , I should 
 think the atmosphere of this place, with such misery all 
 about as Marguerite describes, must be very bad for you, 
 Narka, it is so depressing ? And you want to be cheered 
 up. Now I look at you, my darling, you seem very 
 tired. I am sure you are overworking yourself. You 
 want Vest. You ought to be lying down this minute. I 
 wish I could stay and put you on the sofa and I'ead to 
 you for an hour. Have you any nice books ?"^ — she 
 glanced round at the table. " When I come back I will 
 insist on your letting me take care of you." She stood 
 16
 
 242 Narka. 
 
 up, and looked into Narka's great pathetic blue-black 
 eyes, and then opened her arms. 
 
 Narka let herself sink into the loved embrace which 
 had so long been her haven of sweetest rest; but sud- 
 denly she recollected how that soft little hand had 
 clutched an imaginary knout and cut open in desire the 
 flesh of the woman whom Basil loved. The recollection 
 made her blood run cold, and she drew herself away 
 from the clasping arms. 
 
 All this time a crowd of gamins were collected at 
 the door outside, staring at the grand equipage and 
 chafiing the fine flunky. When the owner of this 
 splendor came out they ceased their chaflBng, and stood 
 in silence, watching the ceremony of her getting into 
 the carriage and sinking back on the cushions, while 
 the flue flunky arranged her silken skirts, the glossy 
 thorough-breds meantime tossing their heads and paw- 
 ing the ground, and giving every sign of impatience 
 and disgust. Finally they moved on, spurning the 
 stones contemptuously, and sti'iking sparks with their 
 steel hoofs — a comical parody on human impudence and 
 conceit admirably performed by well-bred beasts. 
 
 As the carriage with its liveries and emblazoned 
 panels jolted lightly down the roughly paved street, the 
 pageant drew gazers to doors and windows, and Sibyl 
 again passed under the fire of those sullen glances which 
 to her betokened the excess of wickedness. Clearly 
 these people needed to be held down with a hand of 
 iron. 
 
 Narka watched the carriage out of sight from the door- 
 step. As she was turning in she saw Madame Blaquette 
 standing in the middle of the street, and earnestly gaz- 
 ing into the palm of her hand. 
 
 "God direct me I" ejaculated the landlady, in a voice
 
 Narka. 243 
 
 evidently intended to reach Narka. Then, looking- up : 
 "Oh! it is you, mademoiselle! I was just considering 
 whether I ought to bestow an alms on this poor woman 
 or not; she looTcs deserviug-, but I may be deceived." 
 
 "As you have taken out the penny, I think I would 
 bestow it," replied Narka. 
 
 "That is precisely what I feel about it. Then, in 
 God"s name, I will risk it!" She presented the penny to 
 the beggar, who had been patiently waiting- while her 
 fate was discussed. 
 
 Narka glanced at her and noticed that she wore green 
 spectacles, and a bandage over one side of her surpris- 
 ingly red face. " I should not have said that she looked 
 deserving," was Narka's reflection as she turned in- 
 doors; "but I don't suppose Madame Blaquette's penny 
 will do her much harm."
 
 244 Narka. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 It may have been fancy, but wben Narka went out 
 next morning it certainly did strike her that there was 
 something abnormal in the looks of the people and the 
 atmosphere of the place. But she set it down to the 
 effect of Sibyl's shudderings and denunciations, and 
 turned away from the idea. Moreover, her own nerves, 
 she knew, were always at full stretch, generally beyond 
 it, and it was always safe to distrust her own impres- 
 sions. She bethought her that she would go down to the 
 House and hear what they said there. 
 
 "Was Sibyl dreaming, or did she really smell brim- 
 stone in the air yesterday ?" asked Narka, walking into 
 the dispensary, where Marguerite was pounding herbs in 
 a mortar. 
 
 "I'm afraid she smelt something," Marguerite re- 
 plied, without looking up. " I wish you had gone away 
 with her." 
 
 "I would not have gone if she had asked me; but she 
 did not ask me." 
 
 Marguerite made no comment to this, but went on 
 with her pounding. 
 
 "Oh, Marguerite, what a fool I have been all my 
 life!" Narka burst out, passionately. "I see now Sibyl 
 never cai'ed a straw for me. She never loved me a bit, 
 and she has been feeding me on false sacraments of love 
 all my life !" 
 
 " Mon Dieu! how you do exaggerate everything!" 
 said Marguerite, looking up and tossing her head. " You.
 
 Karha. 245 
 
 are so terribly morbid that you turn everything in life 
 to tragedy." 
 
 "And what has life been to me but a tragedy ever 
 since I can remember ? It is easy for you to preach, but 
 it is enovigh to drive me mad to see how little Sibyl cares 
 about me! To hear lier talking sentimental stuff about 
 longing to hold my hand, when all this time she never 
 asked how I managed not to starve! Good God! if I 
 were in her place and she in mine ! But I am a fool— 
 a fool !" she repeated, passionately. , 
 
 "Yes," said Marguerite, with uncivil acquiescence, 
 while her cornette bobbed in meiTy accompaniment to 
 the pestle; "you were a fool when you made an idol of 
 a creature; and, as I told you before, it is the tumbling 
 down of your idol that is hurting you so terribly. You 
 expect too much from Sibyl, because you gave her more 
 than you ought to have given to any human creature." 
 
 "Not near as much as you have given." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 "Yes, you; you have given everything to your fel- 
 low-creatures — your time, your energies, your whole 
 life. I never gave as much as that to Sibyl." 
 
 The pestle stopped, and Mai'guerite looked up in 
 amazement. 
 
 "But I have not given that to creatures. I have 
 given it to God. That is just what makes the differ- 
 ence." 
 
 There was no answer to this. It shifted the ground 
 of the argument too far. After a moment's silence Narka 
 said, "And so you think there is going to be an emeutef 
 
 "I am afraid there is something brewing. One feels 
 the throbbing of the kettle before it boils over.!' Mar- 
 guerite laid her open hand downward on the air, as 
 if touching' water.
 
 246 Karka. 
 
 "Does it break out all in a moment like that?" 
 
 "So they tell me. Our Sisters have seen terrible 
 explosions, just like gunpowder. The men go down 
 into the streets and fight ; barricades start up in every 
 direction as if by magic, and then there is firing and 
 slaughtering, and the seven devils are let loose and tlie 
 people go mad; first their heads go mad, and then their 
 hearts." 
 
 " Do hearts go mad, dear?" 
 
 "I think they nkust. I do believe that hatred creates 
 madness, just as fever does when it gets to one's head. 
 And it is so much harder to cure a mad heart than a 
 mad head! Hatred is such a malignant force ! Where 
 it breaks out it devours everything; it is like fire. That 
 is the dreadful thing in these revolutions; they are 
 hatred in a state of combustion." 
 
 *' Are you afraid the people will attack the House ?" 
 
 "Oh no; they never hurt us. But a lot of our poor 
 people will get into sad trouble. The police have been 
 re-enforced, and the troops are consigned to the bai'- 
 racks, and swarms of detectives are prowling about the 
 district. We have set the children to pray, two by two, 
 in the church all day, and M. le Cure gave us leave to 
 watch ourselves in j)rayer all to-night." 
 
 "Is it so near as all that ?" Narka exclaimed, in sur- 
 prise; " and you never said a word about it to me!" 
 
 "It was only this morning that we heard how alarm- 
 ed the government was, and the stringent measures that 
 are being taken." 
 
 Marguerite put aside the pestle and mortar, and took 
 down from the wall the little basket she carried on her 
 errands. 
 
 "You are going to visit some sick people? Let 
 rae come with you," said Narka.
 
 Narha. Ml 
 
 "No; it is a case of small-pox; you liad better go 
 home. And if there be any movement in the streets 
 to-morrow morning, stay in-doors. It may blow oif, 
 as these threats sometimes do; or it may be held down. 
 But we shall soon know. Au revoir, dear." 
 
 They i^arted at the gate, and Narka went home. Now 
 that her eyes had been opened to observe the signs of 
 things that were coming, the rebellious element in the 
 air had become distinctly sentient, and her pulses were 
 quickened to sympathy with it. She, too, had wrongs to 
 redi'ess, and she was ready to side heart and soul with 
 the people around her who were going to rebel and seek 
 redress for tlieirs. She did not stop to ask wliether 
 these wrongs were real or not; she was in a mood to 
 applaud rebellion ; her whole heart went out in sympa- 
 thy witli it. These people, like her, were the victiuis of 
 tyranny; they were politically free, but they were the 
 slaves of those merciless tyrants, the rich; they were 
 starved and exasperated to violence hy the inexorable 
 rapacity of the capitalists. This might be justice in 
 the eyes of the law, but in the sight of God it was mur- 
 der. In the sight of God the rich one had no more 
 right to use the brute force of money against the poor 
 man than the strong man to use the brute force of 
 muscular strength against the helpless j)aralytic. But 
 they arrogated the right, and this was the universal 
 wrong that was crying out for vengeance all over the 
 world. 
 
 The passion of i-evenge had been sleeping in Narka's 
 heart, ready to wake up at the first opportunity. Time 
 had not made less heinous in her eyes any of the wi'ongs 
 that she had suffered, or weakened her sense of their in- 
 justice. Herein lies the vital difference between pain 
 and evil; the flight of time, passing over pain, eflFaces
 
 248 Narka. 
 
 tlie very remembrance of it, and washes away the traces 
 of suffering, but it leaves the memory of evil and the 
 ruin it has made untouched ; the lapse of years atones 
 for nothing'; forgetfulness is not remedial of guilt. It 
 "was not the fact of her father and brother having died in 
 Siberia, of her mother lying in the graveyard at Yrakow 
 — it was not these sorrows in themselves that rankled 
 and festered in Narka's heart, making it burn for re- 
 venge and throb in passionate sympathy with rebellion ; 
 it was the fact that those deaths were the work of hu- 
 man cruelty and injustice. What could be done to 
 better the world while these sinister powers of evil were 
 ruling it ? There was nothing but to rise up and de- 
 stroy them. 
 
 She got out those articles of Basil's and read them. 
 They were like the sound of martial music to her excited 
 nerves. She Avas putting them away, when the con- 
 cierge knocked at her door and handed in a letter. It 
 vv^as from Ivan. Was this news of Basil \ Narka open- 
 ed it eagerly. This is what Ivan said: 
 
 " On the 10th there will be a meeting at which some 
 important news will be communicated. If you don't 
 ■write to forbid me, I will meet you iii the gallery of the 
 Luxembourg on Fridaj^ at half past one, and we will go 
 together." 
 
 This invitation would have been to Narka like the 
 braying of the trumpet to the war-horse if she had not 
 already been to one of the assemblies in question. She 
 suspected the news was about Basil, but even this temp- 
 tation could not lure her again into the company of 
 Olga Borzidoff and the rest of them. She was ready to 
 sympathize actively in every efPort to overthrow ty- 
 rants, but she would rather go out and fight on the bar- 
 ricades, if barricades there wei'e to be, than deliberately
 
 Narha. 249 
 
 come into contact witli the people she had met before at 
 one of these clandestine meetings. Besides, who could 
 tell what might happen between this and the 10th ? She 
 went to bed late, and dreamed all night of Basil, of dan- 
 gers shared with him, of hair-breadth escapes, of rescue 
 at last, and then she awoke and found herself still alone, 
 and life still a tragedy in which the romance of love had 
 yet to be enacted.
 
 250 Narha, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 When Narka went out to make her little provisions 
 next morning she perceived at once that there was a 
 movement of some sort on foot. The people were out 
 in the streets talking excitedly in groups. She asked 
 a young workman what was the matter. 
 
 "The people have risen !" he said, triumphantly. "I 
 have been helping at the barricades since daybreak; I 
 have only run off to get a mouthful of food. We are 
 going to have a journee! Keep in-doors, ma belle ci- 
 toyenne — the troops are coming down the boulevards— 
 unless you like to come and lend us a hand on the bar- 
 ricades." 
 
 He marched off in high good-humor, proud as a pea- 
 cock; the women were looking after him; some like 
 furies ; others scared and anxious. 
 
 Narka hurried home, made a hasty meal, and put 
 on her bonnet to go down to the House. As she opened 
 her own door she saw Dr. Schenk on the threshold, with 
 his hand on the bell. 
 
 "You are going out!" he said, in surprise. 
 
 "Yes; I am going to the Sisters' House. It seems 
 there is an emeitie." She stood back, and he came in. 
 
 " Yes, a very serious emeute. You must not venture 
 out into the streets; the firing may begin anywhere at 
 any moment. I have come to take you away. You 
 can't remain here in the midst of such danger. Put up 
 what you want in a little bag, and come away at once. 
 I have a cab waiting at the corner of the Rue X ;
 
 Sarka. 251 
 
 we can get round through a back way." He spoke with 
 quiet authority", just as when she had been his patient 
 he had ordered her to do this or avoid that. Narka was 
 bewildered. 
 
 "Where do you want to take me to V she said. 
 
 Dr. Schenk looked at her in silence with a steady gaze 
 that had something magnetic in it. Then, drawing a 
 step nearer, "There is only one place where you can 
 go with safety and dignity," he said; "that is your 
 husband's house. Don't start, Narka; listen to me. I 
 have loved you from the first hour we met. I did not 
 come here to-day to tell you so; I should have been 
 afraid it might have driven you from me. I knew you 
 must be slowly won, and I was satisfied to wait. I 
 would have waited seven yeai's. But there is no time 
 to wait now ; I am driven to speak ; it is the only way 
 of rescuing you. I love you. Accept me for your 
 husband, and I will trust to winning your love by the 
 strength of my own, by the whole devotion of my life." 
 
 Narka had been too startled and surprised to speak. 
 
 "Why, I thought you knew?. . . ." she said, hesita- 
 ting, and her color rose and spread to a beautiful car- 
 mine. "Did not Ivan tell you? I am engaged to Ba- 
 sil Zorokoff." 
 
 "That is an idle dream," said Schenk, unmoved. 
 "You will never be Zorokoff's wife." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" 
 
 "He will never marry you ; he does not love you." 
 
 "How dare you say that!" cried Narka, and the blue 
 fire flashed from her eyes. 
 
 "He does not love you," Schenk I'epeated, in the 
 same quiet tone. "If he loved you, he would not have 
 left j^ou all this time to work for your daily bread alone, 
 battling with the perils and cruelties of want. Don't
 
 252 Narha. 
 
 tell me he could not help it. If he had loved you he 
 would have helped it; but he loves nothing but ambi- 
 tion. He might have married you, from a sense of 
 honor, if he had been his own master. But love you! 
 Child, your love sweeps over him in a high tide of pas- 
 sion that he no more vibrates to than an oyster vibrates 
 to the roll of the Atlantic!" The words were full of 
 passion, but Schenk's voice was as cold and level as if 
 he had been speaking on any ordinary subject; the fire 
 in him was at white heat; but it did not appear; it was 
 concentrated within. There was somethiug unhuman 
 in this cold-blooded self-command that repelled Narka 
 indescribably, but it helped her to be calm. 
 
 "Dr. Schenk," she said, trying to keep her loathing 
 out of her voice, " I will not forget that you have shown 
 me great kindness; but I must remind you that nothing 
 can justify your speaking of what is strictlj^ and sacred- 
 ly personal to me. I am as sure of the love of Basil 
 Zorokoflf as I am of mine for him. You are not capa- 
 ble of understanding a nature like his. He is too far 
 above you." 
 
 Schenk smiled compassionately. "Keep your illu- 
 sions," he said; "I don't want to destroy them; I only 
 w^ant to prevent them from destroying you. You are 
 sacrificing your youth to a phantom. Zorokoff will 
 never break through his present bonds to marry you. 
 His own indifference is in league with the strong will 
 of his father and his sister. Give up that dream ! Wor- 
 ship him as a patriot, if you will, but give your love to 
 me. I love you with my whole soul; I will be your 
 slave all my life. You care nothing for the gauds that 
 other women covet; but these too I can put at your 
 feet; my fortune is ample. Be my wife, Narka, and 
 let us work in the good cause together!" He held out
 
 WarTca. 253 
 
 his hand to her, but she fell back with a gesture of 
 denial. Schenk thought it expressed disgust. "My 
 hand is clean ; there is no man's blood upon it," he said, 
 and there was a sinister gleam in his eye. 
 
 Narka, stung to the quick, flashed back at him a 
 glance of hatred and defiance. "That taunt covers a 
 cowardly lie!" she said; "but I am glad that you 
 uttered it ; it shows me your true character, and enables 
 me to dismiss you without a shadow of regret. Go, and 
 never cross my path again !" 
 
 She pointed to the door, but Schenk did not obey 
 her. He turned away, and paced the room twice, three 
 times; his head was bent, his right hand was thrust 
 into his breast, his features were working convulsively. 
 There was something terrible and pitiable in the sight of 
 this sudden passion, in the agony of conflict that was 
 going on within him. Narka, standing by the mantel- 
 piece, watched him, divided between fear, anger, and a 
 rising sense of pity. He had flung his love so gener- 
 ously at her feet, she felt sorry for him, in spite of those 
 insolent and cruel words. Suddenly Schenk came and 
 stood before her. The change that had taken place in 
 him within the last few minutes was frightful to see; 
 his sallow pallor had turned to a livid gray; there was 
 a red line across his forehead, as if he had been struck 
 with a lash. "Forgive me," he said, meekly; "I have 
 behaved like a fool and a brute. My love for you must 
 be my excuse. I love you so madly there is nothing 
 under heaven I would not have done to win you ! But 
 I will never trouble you again. Try and forgive what 
 I said of Zorokoff . There was nothing in it. It was the 
 fling of a jealous man. Jealousy makes men mad. I 
 was mad just now. But it is past. And now what can I 
 do to help you ? Is there no friend that you can go to?"
 
 254 Narha. 
 
 Narka's passionate anger was disarmed, but with it her 
 strength of self-command gave way. She struggled to 
 hold it for a moment, and then burst into tears. Schenk 
 forced her gently into a seat, and stood over her, wait- 
 ing. 
 
 "I am very sorry this has happened," she said, after 
 a while, lifting her head and swallowing a sob; "I am 
 very sorry. No, there is nothing you can do for me. 
 Good-by." 
 
 "I can't bear the idea of your bemg here alone," he 
 said. ' ' Is there no one within reach ? — Madame de 
 Beaucrillon ?" 
 
 Narka made a negative movement with her head. " I 
 don't run the risks up here that you imagine. The peo- 
 ple won't hurt me. I am Soeur Marguerite's friend. I 
 was going down to the House to see her." 
 
 She stood up. Schenk saw there was no use in urging 
 her. 
 
 "I will see you that far," he said; "as yet the road 
 there is clear." 
 
 He opened the door, and they went out together. 
 Narka noticed the beggar standing at the door of the 
 house opposite. It struck her as odd that she should 
 be quietly stationed there waiting for pennies at such a 
 crisis, for nobody was abroad except those who were 
 going to fight. The street had already undergone a 
 change: every shop that had a shutter had put it up, 
 and everybody had gone in-doors. 
 
 Narka saw and felt the change without being con- 
 scious of it. Those cruel words of Schenk's, ' ' lie might 
 Ttiarry you from a sense of honor, hut he does not love 
 you,'''' were like the bite of a snake in her flesh. 
 
 They walked on rapidly to the House, and did not 
 speak until Schenk said good-by to her at the gate.
 
 NarJca. 255 
 
 The court was a scene of extraordinary excitement; 
 people were coming and going; the children of the 
 schools were flocking in ; they had been sent home, but 
 the parents had come back with them, entreating the 
 Sisters to keep them over the night. 
 
 "But where are we to put them?" exclaimed Soeur 
 Jeanne, in dismay; "every bed, every mattress in the 
 house is more than filled." 
 
 "Pack them up to the infirmary," suggested Margue- 
 I'ite. 
 
 ' ' The infirmary !" retorted Sceur Jeanne. ' ' There are 
 ninety children packed into it already ; they have hard- 
 ly room to turn round." 
 
 "What does that matter, ma so&urf urged Margue- 
 rite ; " where there is no room for ninety, there is room 
 enough for a hundred. Get along with you all to the 
 infirmary !" And the children, in high glee at the 
 lawless opportunity, went tumbling up the stairs. 
 
 " Oh, Narka, I am so thankful to see you !" cried Mar- 
 guerite, perceiving her. "Here is a note from Sibyl; 
 it has just come. She wants us both to go off with her 
 to Beaucrillon by the noon express." 
 
 "Are you going ?" inquired Narka. 
 
 "I? What a notion! I thought nobody but Sibyl 
 could have imagined such a thing possible," Margue- 
 rite laughed. "Just think how busy we are going to 
 be!" she went on. "The big school-room is turned into 
 an ambulance, and they will be carrying in tlie wound- 
 ed as soon as the fighting begins." 
 
 While she spoke there was a detonation of fire-arms, 
 first a single shot, then a volley, followed by a prolong- 
 ed shout that rose in the distance, and came gradually 
 nearer as street after street took it up. The women 
 who were in the court hurried away; the Sisters went
 
 256 Narka. 
 
 quickly in-doors with the children, who had lingered 
 outside, full of curiosity and delighted excitement. In 
 the twinkling of an eye the place was cleared, and Mar- 
 guerite and Narka were left alone at the gate. 
 
 "You had better run home at once," .said Marguerite; 
 " the road is still clear. But don't loiter, and don't stir 
 out while the firing lasts. It is not likely — " 
 
 The sentence was cut short by a terrific volley that 
 sounded much nearer this time. Marguerite turned 
 pale, and made the sign of the cross. 
 
 "Why may I not stay here with you ?" said Narka. 
 " I could help in the ambulance." 
 
 " Yes, you might" — Marguerite hesitated — "only I 
 may be sent down to the barricades to attend to the 
 wounded who can't be carried here. Still, if \o\x like — " 
 
 As she spoke there came rushing past the gate a band 
 of roughs, shouldering muskets and shouting a ribald 
 song. 
 
 "And these are the people you are going to risk your 
 life for ?" said Narka — "men who probably don't even 
 know the name of God !" 
 
 "Perhaps not; but God knows their name, and has 
 died for every one of them. That is why it is worth 
 while," said Marguerite. She spoke calmly, but Narka 
 could see that she was agitated. 
 
 "Are you not afraid, dear ?" she said, looking tender- 
 ly down on the small figure. 
 
 "Afraid ?" The tone held just a soupqon of haughti- 
 ness. The question implied something which stirred 
 Marguerite's blood, and reminded her that certain in- 
 herited instincts of her race had not been as eflfectively 
 repudiated as its outward insignia. Noli irritare leonem 
 was the motto of her house, and though the lion lay dor- 
 jjiant beneath the dove, just as the lady's silken attire
 
 Narka. 257 
 
 had disappeared under the peasant's gown,* there were 
 moments when the lion woke up, and when the antique 
 French patrician, than whom the womanhood of all the 
 races offers no loftier or lovelier type, asserted her in- 
 alienable dignity. "No, I am not afraid," she said, 
 with penitent humility. "What is there to be afraid 
 of?" 
 
 "The firing, the bullets: suppose you were to be 
 killed?" 
 
 ' ' Killed ? No such luck !" Marguerite tossed her head 
 and laughed. 
 
 A suspicion darted through Narka's mind. "Mar- 
 guerite, you are wearied of your life," she said. 
 
 " Wearied of my life ? I should never be wearied of 
 it if I did not get homesick now and then." 
 
 "Ah! Then you do regret the life you have re- 
 nounced ?" 
 
 Marguerite looked up in quick surprise, and then 
 began to laugh. "I meant homesick for heaven. If I 
 were shot down at the barricades in the service of 
 charity, it would be like martyrdom, and I should go 
 straight to heaven. Would not that be luck, dear 
 Narka ? Only such a grand death is much too good for 
 me to expect." She gave a little sigh. She looked veiy 
 tired, though she was excited. Something in her man- 
 ner and voice struck Narka to the heart. Could it be 
 that this longing for martyrdom was prophetic ? Nar- 
 Jia resolved to stay and share the risks, whatever they 
 might be. 
 
 * The coarse gray gown and stiff white coiffe of the Sister of 
 Charity were the costume of the peasants in the seventeenth century, 
 when the order was founded by St. Vincent de Paul, 
 
 17
 
 258 Rarha. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The enieute lasted six days. Then came peace and 
 the day of reckoning. La Villette was cowering in its 
 kennel like a whipped hound. Numbers who had been 
 taken fighting on the barricades and in the streets were 
 in prison; but greater numbers still had escaped, and 
 amongst them many of the ringleaders, and these were 
 skulking in holes and corners, nursing their wounds, 
 and dodging the police, who were in hot pursuit of them. 
 For there was no time to lose. Whatever was to be 
 done must be done quickly. In France, more than else- 
 where, punishment brooks no delay. To be effective, 
 it must be dealt out promptly, while public feeling is at 
 white heat of indignation against the culprits; delay is 
 fatal; for this righteous anger cools very quickly, sym- 
 pathy veers round to the criminals, the most deserved 
 penalty is then looked on as tyrannical and vindictive, 
 the heaviest offenses are condoned, and the law-breaker 
 becomes a victim, and not infrequently a martyr. 
 
 The white cornettes had been the confidantes of the 
 people all through. Every day before dawn wives and 
 mothers were to be seen waiting at the gate of the House, 
 asking for help and shelter for husbands and sons and. 
 brothers; " mon homme" had held a barricade for ten 
 houts, and was a dead man if the police caught him ; 
 and so on with scores of others. 
 
 Marguerite's wish had been disappointed. She had 
 been a martyr only in spirit and in self-sacrifice,; but in 
 the eyes of the people she had won the palm branch as
 
 JVarM. 259 
 
 fully as if she had shed her blood for them. They had 
 loved her before ; they now worshipped her ; and Narka, 
 who had been her companion through those terrible 
 days, shared in the prestige that surrounded her. Early 
 on the morning of the seventh day they went out to- 
 gether on their stealthy round of illegal visits of mercy 
 through the district, and it was a fresh wonder to Narka 
 to see how Marguerite rose to the new and strange diffi- 
 culties of the position. Sometimes she spoke to the 
 culprits in a tone of severe command so amusingly at 
 variance with her little figure and her sweet young face 
 that it raised a smile ; but this unconscious air of comedy 
 in no way detracted from the impressiveness of what 
 she said. To those who wei^e expiating their ci'iminal 
 folly in bodily pain, suffering from wounds and from 
 remorse, her compassion was boundless ; her voice was 
 full of pity and healing balm, and her smile had a pathos 
 that is seldom seen except on lips that have quivered 
 with pain. As Narka went with her through the reek- 
 ing slums and tenements, and saw her exorcising the 
 evil spirits, subduing impotent rage to humble peni- 
 tence, making the haters ashamed of their hate, she be- 
 thought her how feeble were her own passionate theo- 
 ries for reforming the world compared to this simple 
 philosophy of love. And yet surely there was a flaw in 
 the philosophy somewhere. It was not natural, it was 
 not possible, that Marguerite de Beaucrillon could really 
 feel for these low, vicious, enraged pariahs the love she 
 professed for them. Was her system, then, a lie, a fair 
 edifice built on a rotten foundation of deceit and flat- 
 tery? "I will have it out with her!" Narka said, as 
 they emerged from a dank cellar, where Marguerite had 
 been administering the salve of loving words and en- 
 couragement to a wretched man who had led a whole
 
 260 Narka. 
 
 band of well-meaning lads to the slaughter, and come 
 out of it with despair and a mortal wound. 
 
 "How could you play the hypocrite to that poor 
 wretch, and make believe you love him ?" Narka said. 
 They were crossing to the opposite side of the Cour des 
 Chats. 
 
 "It is not hypocrisy; I do love him," Marguerite 
 answered, in some surprise. 
 
 ' ' Nonsense ! Say you pity him — that I can believe ; 
 but that you love that dirty savage — it is impossible !" 
 
 "There are many kinds of love," said Marguerite. 
 "There is a love of the head, and a love of the senses, 
 and a love of the will — that is the best, the true one; it 
 is the only love that is commanded us: 'He who does 
 the will of my Father. . . .' The Italian girl is a true 
 theologian when she says of her lover, Mi vuole tanto 
 bene."" 
 
 " I don't know about the theology of it, but I am sure 
 if these people knew that your love for them is part of 
 the Ten Commandments it would not be so efficacious; 
 what flatters them is the belief that you have a personal 
 love for them, whereas you simply pity them, and for- 
 give them." 
 
 "And what is love but an eternal forgiving!" Mar- 
 guerite murmured, saying it rather to herself than to 
 Narka. They were at the door of Antoine Drex's house, 
 so the argument dropped. 
 
 Antoine was hiding. He had been recklessly promi- 
 nent all through the riots, and the police were actively 
 searching for liim. The Sisters had brought him food 
 secretly, and Marguerite came to dress his wounds. He 
 had left his own lodging and taken refuge with his old 
 mother in this miserable tenement, recently inhabited 
 by a man who had fallen on a barricade, and whose idiot
 
 Narha. 261 
 
 child was now moaning on its bed with fever, while la 
 mere Drex tried to soothe it. 
 
 Narka assisted Marguerite in dressing Antoine's 
 wound ; it was a bad one in the head, but not danger- 
 ous ; then she went to see if the child wanted any help. 
 "Santez! santez!" wailed the little creature, staring at 
 her with mindless eyes, now glittering with the light of 
 fever. 
 
 "What is she calling for?" Narka asked. 
 
 "She wants me to sing to her," said the old woman : 
 "poor Binard used to sing the child to sleep of a night; 
 a good thing it was for him too ; it kept him from the 
 cabaret ever since his wife's death. I can't, vfia petiote 
 — I can't," she repeated, as the child kept on her monot- 
 onous cry: "Santez! santez!" "When I was young I 
 could turn a tune as well as the rest of them," continued 
 Madame Drex, with a certain complacency in the recol- 
 lection of her lost powers, "but my old voice now is as 
 cracked as an empty nutshell. You could not sing a 
 cantique to quiet her, ma petite dame ?" 
 
 The question sent a sharp pang through Narka. In 
 the excitement and busy exertions of the last week she 
 had forgotten all about her lost voice, but this piteous 
 supplication of the sick child reminded her of it, and 
 smote her with a new regret. With the intense desire 
 there came to her a sudden vivifying inward force, swift 
 and potent as the touch of an electric spring. She 
 cleared her throat and began to warble, first in a soft 
 undertone, as if trying an instrument that she was not 
 sure «*f, whose strings might snap; but she soon grew 
 reassured, and her voice rose, and gained in volume, and 
 rang out in clear, sweet tones. 
 
 Marguerite could hardly believe her ears. It seemed 
 like a miracle — one of those miracles of charity that
 
 262 Narha. 
 
 she herself performed day after day in the desolate 
 places. She crushed the sugar noiselessly in the tisane 
 she was preparing for Antoine Drex, and kept mur- 
 muring to herself, with a smile: "God is love! God 
 is love !" 
 
 Antoine's eyes were fixed on Narka as if she were 
 some visitant from another world. She looked like one, 
 as she sat singing by the poverty-stricken bed, the flush 
 of a pure emotion on her face, a light of joy in her 
 luminous dark eyes. 
 
 When the song — a Russian ballad — was ended, the 
 child called out, "EncoM enco'!" And Narka, stirred 
 by that encore as she had never been by the applause of 
 a salon, sang again ; this time, in French, Mignon's 
 lament, "Rendez-moi la patrie, ou laissez-moi mourir!" 
 The child grew calmer, and ceased to toss on her pillow ; 
 by the time the song was ended she had fallen asleep. 
 La mere Drex lifted up her hands in a gesture of won- 
 derment and admiration. Narka rose and moved softly 
 out of the room after Marguerite. When they were out 
 on the landing, by a common impulse the two friends 
 turned and kissed one another. Their hearts were t<5o 
 full for speech. 
 
 On reaching the bottom of the stairs they found that 
 a crowd had assembled before the house. Marguerite 
 at once guessed that the police had tracked Antoine, and 
 stepped bravely forward to meet the enemy. 
 
 "What is the matter ?" she said. 
 
 "Ma sceur," answered a blouse, "we wanted to see 
 whether it was you or the Virgin Mary thj^t was singing 
 up there." 
 
 " It was neither one nor the other, you silly people!" 
 said Marguerite, intensely relieved; "it was my friend" 
 ■ — pointing to Narka. "Hush!" she cried, seeing they
 
 JSFarka. 263 
 
 were going to cheer. "There is a sick child up thei*e 
 that has just fallen asleep. Don't wake her!" 
 
 Obedient to Soeur Marguerite as usual, they walked 
 on silently, making an escort to her and Narka across 
 the court, and accompanying them to the end of the 
 lane beyond it. Then, as by a common accord, they 
 raised a ringing cheer : ' ' Vive le rossignol ! Vive Tamie 
 de la Sceur Marguei*ite !" 
 
 The ovation brought the wild roses into Narka's 
 cheeks, and made her heart swell with a sense of victory 
 unlike anything she had ever felt before. 
 
 It had been an exciting morning, and she was very 
 tired as she walked home. On reaching her own door 
 it occurred to her that this was the tenth, the day of 
 the meeting. At this very hour it was in full swing, 
 and Ivan Gorff was wondering why she had neither 
 written nor met him at the trysting-place.
 
 264 Narha. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Just as Narka had shut herself in and sat down to 
 realize the happy fact of her voice's return, the main 
 street of the Place was thrown into excitement by an 
 accident. A cab containing two men was coming 
 quietly up the street, when the horse took fright and 
 rushed blindly on, struck against a cart and fell, over- 
 turning the cab. One of the travellers, who was in the 
 act of jumping out, paid for this want of presence of 
 mind by an ugly cut in the head; the other in attempt- 
 ing to follow him had hurt his leg, and lay groaning 
 in the bottom of the overturned cab. Two gamins 
 jumped up on the wheel to look in at him. 
 
 "It is the Commissary of Police!" cried one of them, 
 turning to the by-standers. His face was a picture; 
 it expressed a keen sense of the humorous side of the 
 situation, with a dread of "catching it" if he were over- 
 heard by the still powerful though prostrate function- 
 ary. For it was, in truth, no less a person than the 
 mighty Commissary who lay trapped in the upset ve- 
 hicle, groaning with a sprained ankle like a common 
 man. A crowd had gathered in a moment. No one 
 recognized the man on the pavement, but all shrewdly 
 suspected him to be a police agent come to participate 
 in some important arrest. Anyhow, the pair were after 
 no good. It was clearly a judgment of Providence that 
 had overtaken them, in favor of the poor wretch they 
 were after, and the fun of the thing was delicious. Peo- 
 ple came from the neighboring shops and volunteered 
 help. The cab was soon set on its wheels.
 
 Mxrka. 265 
 
 "I have hurt my foot badly," said the Commissary. 
 " Is there a doctor anywliere near V 
 
 "We are close to the Sisters' House, monsieur," said 
 a workman ; "you had better let us take you there while 
 the doctor is fetched." Another cab was called, and 
 the two injured men were helped into it and driven off. 
 
 Scaur Marguerite was in the dispensary, and saw the 
 cab stop at the gate with its procession of ragamuffins. 
 Presently the two Commissaries were assisted across the 
 court into the House. 
 
 In a moment several Sisters were in attendance. The 
 injuries proved more painful than serious, and the Sis- 
 ters were quite capable of dealing with them without the 
 doctor. As soon as the Commissary's sprain had been 
 attended to, and he was made comfortable on an im- 
 provised sofa, with pillows at his back, he asked for 
 writing materials, and wrote a short note. Then beck- 
 oning to Mai'guerite, " Ma sceur," he said, in a confiden- 
 tial tone, "I want you to do a little commission for me. 
 I want you to take a cab and drive to the Prefecture, 
 and ask to see M. le Prefet — you will send in my card — 
 and then give this note into his hands." 
 
 "Ah!" Marguerite's look of intense curiosity was ir- 
 resistible. 
 
 " I will tell you what it is about," whispered the Com- 
 missary. "I and my colleague came here to arrest a 
 scoundrel named Drex — Antoine Drex; but we have 
 been hindered as you see. Now it is most necessary 
 they should know this at once at the Prefecture, and 
 send on two others to do it, or the fellow may get wind 
 of the matter and slip through our fingers. You under- 
 stand ?" 
 
 "Oh yes, monsieur, I understand." Marguerite's 
 heart was thumping so that she wondered the Commis-
 
 266 Narha. 
 
 sary did not hear it and suspect. ' ' I don't think they 
 would let me see M. le Prefet," she said, turning- the 
 letter in her hand ; ' ' had I not better say you want 
 some one to be sent up here to you?" 
 
 "No, no; that would lose too much time," he said, 
 impatiently, "They will let you in at once when you 
 show my card with that word written on it." 
 
 "Is he suspected of anything very bad, this Antoine 
 Drex ?" she inquired, with an idea that every minute's 
 delay might help Antoine. 
 
 "He is not suspected — he is known to be a danger- 
 ous villain. Go, ma soeur; not a word to any one here, 
 but go!" 
 
 Marguerite slipped the letter up her sleeve and went 
 out. Once in the street, she stood debating. It was a 
 hard task that was set her. Must she execute it ? Poor 
 Antoine! She knew he was more sinned against than 
 sinning. But a voice whispered, " You are bound to 
 obey the law.''^ She heard it; still she hesitated. Sud- 
 denly another voice whispered: "Charity is the greatest 
 commandment of all. Charity is the law of God." She 
 agreed with this voice; still she hesitated; but after a 
 moment's delay she glanced quickly, furtively, up and 
 down the street, and then started off in the direction of 
 the Cour des Chats, walking as fast as she dared, and 
 quickening her pace to a I'un when she turned into the 
 dirty laneway that led into it. Antoine was sitting as 
 she had left him, only smoking a pipe. His mother had 
 gone out to the lavoir ; the idiot child, lulled to rest by 
 Narka's song, was still fast asleep. 
 
 Marguerite closed the door, and then, dropping her 
 voice, "Antoine," she said, "the police are in jjursuit 
 of you. The Commissary was on his way here when 
 he met with an accident; he is now at the House, rest-
 
 JSfarka. 267 
 
 ing, and I am going to tlie Prefecture with tins letter 
 from him desiring some one to be sent to arrest you." 
 
 Without waiting to see the effect of her information, 
 she turned quickly away, alid closed the door after her. 
 
 An hour later two police-officers drove up to the en- 
 trance of the Cour des Chats, and crossed over to the 
 house where Antoine was lodging. Tliey went up and 
 knocked at the door, guided by the instructions con- 
 tained in the Commissary's letter. Some one said, 
 "Come in." But on opening the door they found, in- 
 stead of Antoine Drex, Soeur Marguerite, knitting by 
 the window. 
 
 "Pardon, ma scBur," said one of the agents, taking 
 off his hat ; " we are looking for Antoine Drex. We 
 have come to arrest him." 
 
 Marguerite's heart was beating like a hammer on an 
 anvil, but she looked at him, and said, composedly, 
 " You had better go to the House and tell M. le Com- 
 missaire that you found me here in place of Antoine 
 Drex." 
 
 The two police-officers looked at her as if they doubt- 
 ed her sanity. Presently they began to understand. 
 They were young, they were brave, they had hearts of 
 men. 
 
 "Ma soeur, I have the honor to salute you," said one 
 of them. 
 
 They both bowed and walked out of the room, and 
 she heard the sound of smothered laughter on the 
 stairs. 
 
 But there remained now the Commissary to face. 
 Marguerite knew there would be no sympathetic laugh- 
 ter there. The Commissary, indeed, flew into a great 
 rage when he heard the trick that had been played him, 
 and sent for the Superior, and whipped Marguerite on
 
 268 Narha. 
 
 her unoffending back; lie threatened to denounce the 
 community as accomplices of all the rebels and rascals 
 of the district, to have the House shut up, etc., etc. 
 
 Marguerite meantime had followed the agents to the 
 House, and walked bravely in to receive her reward. 
 She was very frightened, but she did not show it, and 
 this assumption of coolness made matters worse. 
 
 "So, ma soeur, this is how you respect the law!" 
 cried the angry Commissary; "before you went to 
 the Prefecture you, gave that scoundrel a hint to ske- 
 daddle." 
 
 "Monsieur le Commissaire, I am incapable of any- 
 thing so mean," replied Marguerite; "I told him plain- 
 ly that I was going to the Prefecture with a message 
 from you for his arrest." 
 
 "And you are not ashamed of helping a blackguard 
 like that to evade the law ?" 
 
 ' ' Antoine Drex is not a blackguard. Monsieur le 
 Commissaire. He is an honest man ; he has been very 
 unhappy; he was cruelly and unjustly treated, and he 
 is exaspei'ated. He was falsely accused of murdering 
 his drunken wife, and kept ten months in prison with 
 thieves and homicides before he was put on his trial 
 and acquitted. He came out of prison with his health 
 broken and his heart maddened, and he has never got 
 back into his right heart since. The injustice and cru- 
 elty of the law turned him into a rebel. And so it 
 would have done you or me, M. le Commissaire." 
 
 "I'll tell you what," said the Commissary, "I will 
 report you to the Minister as a rebel more dangerous 
 than a score of Antoine Drexes." He was furious; but 
 as he vented his fury something in her young face, 
 an expression at once timid and dauntless, reproachful 
 and beseeching, went to his heart. He turned away
 
 Narha. 269 
 
 with an angry grunt, and remained silent, while Mar- 
 guerite picked up and replaced at his back the pillow 
 that, in his agitation, he had sent rolling to the floor. 
 
 A cab was now waiting to take him and his colleague 
 away. Before he left he spoke civilly to Soeur Jeanne, 
 and told her to look after Sceur Marguerite, and see 
 that she played no tricks with the law in future, for she 
 might fall next time on some one who would be less 
 ready to overlook her misdemeanors than he was. 
 
 Soeur Jeanne scolded Marguerite ; but the community 
 had a merry time of it at recreation that eveiiing, nor 
 were they to be checked in their fun over the Commis- 
 sary's misadventure and the sorry figure he made in 
 his official discomfiture by Sceur Jeanne's attempt to 
 frown and look aggrieved. 
 
 Narka had heard nothing of the event, not having left 
 home since she had parted from. Marguerite. At ten 
 o'clock that night she was a little startled by some one 
 knocking at her door. She supposed it was the con- 
 cierge with a letter; but before oj)ening she asked who 
 was there. 
 
 A voice that she did not recognize answered, "A 
 friend of Soeur Marguerite." 
 
 Narka, drew back the bolt. She did not know what 
 fear was, but she was conscious of an unpleasant sensa- 
 tion when she beheld a huge man, with his head and 
 shoulders concealed by a shawl, step quickly in and close 
 the door behind him. He threw back the shawl, and 
 Narka recognized Antoine Drex. He told her what had 
 happened, and how he had been hiding in a wood-yard 
 all the afternoon and evening, and now implored her to 
 shelter him till morning and give him some food. She 
 fetched him bread and wine and some cold meat, and he 
 rolled an arm-chair into the little kitchen, which was the
 
 270 Narka. 
 
 only addition to the salon bedroom in her apartment. 
 But Antoine declared he was lodged like a prefet. 
 
 Narka was glad to harbor a hunted fellow-creature, 
 to give sanctuary to a victim of that long-armed and 
 cruel tyrant, the law. Very likely Antoine was deep- 
 dyed in plots against the government; but Narka was 
 not the one to think worse of any man for that. Every 
 political criminal was dear to her for Basil's sake. 
 Nevertheless, though she was glad to open her door to 
 Drex, she felt that in doing so she was incurring a 
 great personal risk, and if Antoine rested easily, she did 
 not. All night long she lay awake, listening to every 
 sound ; a dog that barked, a cart that rumbled, made her 
 start. She was up before Antoine gave signs of stirring. 
 Then she prepared some food for him, and, with his 
 shawl drawn round him, he stole out in the early morn, 
 and went down to the House just as the gate was opened. 
 
 Marguerite was horrified when she heard where he 
 had passed the night. But Antoine assured her that no 
 harm would come to Narka ; no one had seen him com- 
 ing or going. The street had been quite deserted both 
 at night and in the morning.
 
 Narka. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Narka never gave a thought to the possible con- 
 sequences to herself, from the moment she saw Antoine 
 Drex safe out of her house; but the event had excited 
 her extraordinai'ily. She forgot that his coming to her 
 for shelter was the natural enough result of her visit to 
 him with Marguerite in the morning, and she magnified 
 the incident into a portent. She must be destined to 
 play some part in this great revolutionary drama that 
 was being enacted all over Europe, or else why did 
 these chances pursue her ? Some event was at hand, she 
 said to herself, some great event in which a role was 
 surely reserved to her by fate or by Providence. 
 
 "Do you believe in presentiments ?" she said to Mar- 
 guerite, when they met that afternoon. 
 
 "Certainly !" was the emphatic rejoinder; " I believe 
 them to be a sign of indigestion." Marguerite knew 
 that Narka was morbidly fanciful at all times, and she 
 made a point of snubbing her fancies. Just now she 
 seemed exaltee and overwrought. 
 
 Nothing occurred during the day to justify Narka's 
 presentiments, but at about ten o'clock that night she 
 was again startled by a visitor. This time it was a ring, 
 a very light ring, but to her imagination, on the watch 
 for signs and portents, it sounded preternaturally loud 
 in the stillness. Could it be Antoine come back? Mar- 
 guerite had said they would shelter him at the House 
 until he could get away to Calvados, his native place. 
 Narka went to the door and asked who was there.
 
 272 Narka. 
 
 A voice answered in Russian, " It is I, Narka." 
 
 Her heart gave a great leap, a low cry rose to her lips, 
 the bolt flew back — she never knew how — and then she 
 was in Basil Zorokoff' s arms. For one long moment life 
 seemed over; she was conscious of nothing but the wild 
 rapture of possessing him; his strong arms were clasp- 
 ing her, his cheek was pressed against hers. Was it 
 some sweet madness, or was she in heaven ? 
 
 "Are we alone?" he whispered, raising his head and 
 glancing round the dimly lighted room, while he relax- 
 ed liis hold of her. 
 
 ' ' Yes, quite alone. Oh, Basil, is it you, or am I dream- 
 ing ?" 
 
 She trembled and clung to him as if she was afraid 
 he would escape if she let liim go. He drew her to the 
 little couch, and they sat down together. 
 
 "1 frightened you," he said, laughing. " I ought to 
 have given you warning, and not come down on you 
 like a thunder-bolt ; but there was no time, unless I tele- 
 graphed on the road, and that would have been a risk." 
 
 "I am not a bit frightened, only beside myself with 
 joy. Oh, Basil ! Basil ! my love ! my love !" She look- 
 ed up into his face, sobbing for happiness. 
 
 He bent down and kissed her tenderly. She could see 
 that he was aged; but he was grander and handsomer 
 than ever. 
 
 "Where have you come fi*om ?" she said; "have 
 you escaped, or did the Prince consent to your coming 
 away ?" 
 
 " Consent ?" Basil threw back his head with the ges- 
 ture she remembered so well. " I escaped in disguise by 
 the same train that took him to Berlin in attendance 
 on the Emperor, who is gone to visit his brother Kaiser." 
 
 ' ' Then he does not know that you have escaped ?"
 
 Narha. 273 
 
 "He knows it by this time, and he is on his knees, 
 tearing his hair, and swearing- b}^ St. Nicholas that Basil 
 Zorokoff is the greatest wretch under heaven. Oh ! it 
 is a fine thing to be a loyal subject, and hate one's own 
 flesh and blood for love of the Emperor," 
 
 "When did you get here ?" asked Narka. 
 
 " An hour ago. I have come on here from the ti^ain." 
 
 "Then you have not seen Sibyl ? You did not know 
 she is in town ?" 
 
 " I did know it; but I came straight to you." 
 
 "My own, my own — " She locked her arms round 
 his throat, and let her head drop on his breast. "You 
 came first to me !" 
 
 " Of course I came first to you. Let me look at you." 
 He put his hand under her chin, and held up her face so 
 that the light from the shaded lamp fell upon it. " My 
 poor Narka," he said, gazing at her with great tender- 
 ness, and then kissing her, "you are grown thinner, 
 but you are as beautiful as ever. And in spite of all 
 you have gone through — the prison — " He felt her 
 shudder in his arms, and she nestled closer to him, 
 
 "Don't let us talk of that," she said, in a low voice; 
 "it is all past, and we are together. I want to hear 
 about you. Tell me everything; tell me all that has 
 happened since we parted. Remember how little I know 
 — only hints from Sibyl in her letters first, and since 
 then stray news of you through Ivan GorflP, Tell me 
 the story yourself now." 
 
 And Basil, with his arm round her, and her hands 
 locked about his neck, told it rapidly, passing lightly 
 over all that was too painful and humiliating, so as not 
 to lacerate her loving heart, but enlarging complacently 
 on the work he had done, the results he had achieved, 
 the brilliant hopes he cherished, Narka saw with pride 
 
 18
 
 274 Narka. 
 
 that he had ripened greatly during the interval of their 
 separation; his mind had gained in shrewdness and 
 insight, his faculties had evidently grown in power of 
 concentration; she was amazed at the vigor and quick- 
 ness with which he summed up the situation, weighed 
 chances, forecast probabilities, and arrived at practical 
 conclusions. It was clear that he had thrown his whole 
 soul and his whole energies into the service of patriotism. 
 He looked a patriot and a hero every inch, so strong and 
 straight and bold in his manly beauty — a lover for a 
 queen to be proud of. And Narka was proud of him ; 
 her heart swelled with pride in him, she admired him 
 more than she had ever done, and she loved him with 
 her whole soul. And yet — she was conscious of a dis- 
 appointment somewhere. It was noble in him to be 
 absorbed in this grand impersonal object, to have cast 
 away, for the sake of serving his oppressed fellow-coun- 
 trymen, all the pleasures that his youth and rank might 
 have claimed ; she admired and applauded the nobleness 
 that this choice evinced, and yet there was a vague 
 disappointment somewhere. Schenk's cruel words re- 
 curred to her with a sting that even the joy of Basil's 
 presence could not allay. "He does not love you; he 
 only loves his ambition. If he marries you, it will be 
 from a sense of honor." Yet Basil was her affianced 
 lover, and she was beautiful, and he had come to her be- 
 fore he went to the sister whom he loved so dearly. 
 How could she doubt but that he loved her best ? If only 
 he had lingered a little longer on the joy of their meet- 
 ing, and then entered eagerly on the question of their 
 approaching marriage! 
 
 There was a moment's pause while these reflections 
 sped rapidly through Narka's mind, and then that sub- 
 tle electric consciousness which flashes thought from
 
 Narka. 275 
 
 one soul to another with whom it is in close sympathy 
 touched Basil. 
 
 " And Sibyl ?" he said; "she has been true to you ?" 
 
 " In what sense true ? Does she know of our engage- 
 ment ?" 
 
 "I took for granted she did." 
 
 " She never let me suspect it if she did. And, dear 
 Basil, I am afraid she will I'esent our marriage as bitter- 
 ly as the Prince." 
 
 " I hope not, when she knows the whole truth — when 
 I tell her how dear you are to me, and how much I owe 
 you. I hope to win her consent without great difficul- 
 ty. She will be so glad to see me, it will be easier to 
 pei'suade her." 
 
 Narka's heart sank a little. Was Sibyl's consent, 
 then, essential ? 
 
 "You see," Basil went on, "we are still in my fa- 
 ther's power. I am absolutely penniless if he does not 
 relent, and I could not ask you to marry a beggar. I 
 have brought trouble enough already on you, God 
 knows, without that." 
 
 "Oh, but I am going to make our fortune," Narka 
 said, with a sudden thrill of exultation. And she told 
 him of Zampa's offer, and the splendid career that was 
 ready waiting for her. 
 
 ' ' And I am to live in idleness while you work ?" 
 Basil said, with a laugh ; and he caressed her, 
 
 "You will be working for the great cause, while I 
 work for bread. Don't you love me well enough to eat 
 my bread ?" She drew herself up, and keeping one 
 hand round his neck, she laid the other upon his breast. 
 "Say, Basil, do you love me well enough to eat my 
 bread ?" 
 
 He took her hand and kissed it, and held it clasped.
 
 276 Narha. 
 
 "The husband ought to work for the wife," he said, 
 "not the wife for the husband." 
 
 ' ' That is the philosophy of pride and of your aristo- 
 cratic traditions. A patriot should be above such pre- 
 judice. Marguerite was glad when she heard this 
 chance of helping you was in store for me." 
 
 " Marguerite ! Ah ! how is she ?" There was a tender 
 cadence in his voice as he said the name ; it struck cold 
 on Narka's heart. 
 
 " She is very well. I see her every day." 
 
 " Does she seem happy ?" 
 
 "She is perfectly happy. She loves her vocation." 
 
 "Ah ! That vocation is a wonderful thing. But she 
 was an angel always — Marguerite." 
 
 Nobody knew this better than Narka, yet to hear 
 Basil say it, and pronounce Marguerite's name in that 
 soft undertone, burned her like the sting of a wasp. 
 
 "Good heavens! is that midnight?" he exclaimed, as 
 the little clock on the mantel struck the hour. " How 
 the time has sped ! I have kept you up so late, dearest. 
 I have not slept myself for four nights." 
 
 He made a movement to rise, but Narka clung and 
 nestled to him. 
 
 "Must you go ?" she said, rubbing her cheek against 
 his coat caressingly. "Tell me about Sibyl: will she 
 be very angry with you for coming to me first ?" 
 
 " I don't mean to tell her. I sha'n't say I have seen 
 you." 
 
 * ' Ah ! Yet it would be as good a way as any of break- 
 ing the truth to her ?" 
 
 "I could not begin by vexing her and making her 
 jealous. She has been the best of sisters to me always. 
 No one has ever loved me better than Sibyl, except you, 
 my Narka."
 
 Narka. 211 
 
 The words were sweet, and tenderly spoken ; but he 
 might have pressed her to his heart, Narka thought, for 
 his arm was round her. The next moment she mocked 
 at herself for this ingenuity of self-torture. He had 
 flown to her first ; he had proved by this that she was his 
 chief, his first object. Why could not she rest on that 
 and be content, and silence these promptings of sick 
 jealousy? It was natural as well as generous and un- 
 selfish in him to consider Sibyl, and Narka admired the 
 large-hearted love that embi'aced every claim so faith- 
 fully. 
 
 "When shall I see you again, darling?" she said, as 
 he gently unwound her arms and stood up. 
 
 "I will come as early as I can to-morrow," he replied, 
 "unless Sibyl sends for you to come and meet me at 
 her house." 
 
 "Oh no, not that!" said Narka, shrinking. "I could 
 not go through the comedy of a first meeting before 
 Sibyl !" 
 
 "That is true. Then I will come here and fetch you, 
 and we will go back to her together." 
 
 She went out with him to the dark entry. At the 
 outer door he turned once more and folded her in a 
 close embrace. As he released her he whispered, 
 * ' When you see Marguerite you may tell her I am here. 
 She will be glad to know that I am safe." 
 
 "Yes, I will tell her," Narka replied. It was kind 
 and natural that he should think of sending a message 
 to Marguerite.
 
 278 Narha. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Narka was up before the earliest bell. When she 
 looked round her it seemed wonderful that nothing 
 was changed in the shabby room ; that last night's vi- 
 sion had not left some visible trail of light or beauty 
 behind it. 
 
 " My love ! my love ! did I dream that you were here, 
 that you held me in your arms and kissed me ? My 
 own ! my own !" 
 
 She struck her hands together, and laughed out loud 
 for joy. The little morning duties were quickly per- 
 formed, the frugal meal made ready and partaken of; 
 then she dressed hei-self with care, inspired by the 
 coquetry of love, and made the room as pretty as she 
 could, ai'ranging the flowers she had bought of a poor 
 woman at the door, placing the books to the best ad- 
 vantage on the table, moving and changing everything, 
 as if the magic of love's touch must improve the homely 
 furniture. Then she sat down to the piano, and began 
 to warble and trill with the full-throated rapture of a 
 thrush in spring. She fancied Basil listening to her; 
 she fancied herself bringing down La Scala in thunders 
 of applause, and gathering up gold in bushels and pour- 
 ing it out at his feet ; she saw herseK ministei'ing to his 
 wants, making his home bright and beautiful, and set- 
 ting him free to work with a liberated mind in the great 
 cause he had espoused. Suddenly, in the midst of her 
 dreams, she remembered that her music might drown 
 the sound of his ring, and she came away from the
 
 Narha. 279 
 
 piano and moved about, changing tlie cliairs and the 
 books again, and smiling at everything, and humming 
 for very inability to clieck the joy that was overflowing 
 in her. At last the bell sounded. She flew to the 
 door. But it was not Basil ; it was Madame Blaquette. 
 The landlady put her finger to her lips, glided quickly 
 in, closed the door, and then, dropping her voice to a 
 guilty whisper, "Dear young lady," she said, "can I 
 speak in the strictest privacy ?" 
 
 "Certainly, Madame Blaquette," replied Narka, in a 
 high, cheerful tone; she was in a mood to enjoy the 
 landlady's harmless little fancies. 
 
 "I have come to warn you of a great peril," whisper- 
 ed Madame Blaquette, squeezing Narka's arm: "the 
 police have got notice that you have political papers 
 here, and they are coming up to search your place. 
 Burn or hide whatever you have ; but be quick ; there is 
 no time to lose!" 
 
 Narka could hardly trust her senses. Was this a 
 delusion like the panic about the sewing-machine? 
 Still, she had those papers. " Who told you the police 
 were coming here ?" she asked, in sudden alarm. 
 
 " Dr. Schenk. ' He met me the other side of the Place, 
 and sent me back to warn you. But make haste, or it 
 will be too late." 
 
 Narka's mistrust vanished at the mention of Schenk's 
 name. She looked round her like a trapped creature 
 seeking for some way of escape. There was none; there 
 was no fii'e where she could burn the papers; there was 
 not a hole or corner in the narrow space where tliey 
 would be safe from the lynx eyes of the police for ten 
 minutes. 
 
 " I will take the papers and run down to the Sisters," 
 she said.
 
 280 Narka. 
 
 "Dear young lady, the police will meet you. They 
 are coming- up the street." 
 
 " Then I am lost!" cried Narka, clasping her forehead 
 with both hands. There was a sound of men's footsteps 
 in the entry. "Come," she said; and seizing Madame 
 Blaquette by the wrist, she drew her over to the alcove, 
 dragged a box from under the bed, unlocked it, and took 
 out the ivory casket which contained the papers and 
 Basil's articles, and thrusting it into the landlady's 
 hands, " There! hide it under your shawl, and take it 
 down to Soeur Margueinte for me." There was a ring 
 at the door. " Oh, my God! there they are!" she cried, 
 turning white to the lips. 
 
 "There is a back way, if I can get out through the 
 kitchen window," said Madame Blaquette. "Bring a 
 chair." 
 
 They hurried to the kitchen. Narka threw open 
 the window, let down a chair, helped the agitated land- 
 lady to step on it, and then drew up the chair and 
 shut the window, and went back iiito the room. The 
 bell rang a second time. Narka, trembling in her strong 
 young limbs like a whipped hound, walked to the door 
 and opened it. 
 
 "Oh, Marguerite, it is you! Come in quick," she 
 ci'ied, breathlessly. And she told her in a few hurried 
 words what had just happened. 
 
 "And she is gone down with the box to me?" said 
 Marguerite ; ' ' then I must hui'ry home and be thex*e to 
 meet her." 
 
 Narka would have been thankful to have the sup- 
 port of her presence when the police came; but it was 
 all-important to get the casket into safe-keeping, so she 
 did not detain her. Marguerite was not surprised on 
 reaching the House to find that Madame Blaquette had
 
 Narha. 281 
 
 not yet arrived: the back way made a gi'eat round, and 
 the old lady might linger to make sure of avoiding 
 the police. The dispensary vpindow commanded the 
 court; Marguerite went in there, so as to see her the 
 moment she arrived. But ten minutes passed, then 
 twenty, and Madame Blaquette did not appear. Could 
 she have been seen escaping from the window and fol- 
 lowed and arrested? This was highly improbable; 
 still, when half an hour passed. Marguerite grew ner- 
 vous. There was no one to consult. All the Sisters 
 were absent on their rounds, or engaged in the schools. 
 Suddenly the sound of a light hammer fell on her ear. 
 She opened a door off the dispensary; it was a closet 
 into which they had smuggled Antoine Drex. He was 
 cobbling an old boot, nailing a sole to it. Antoine was 
 safe as a tombstone, and cunning as a rat; he knew 
 the police, and he knew every turn of the lanes and 
 courts through which Madame Blaquette had to pass. 
 Marguerite told him what had happened. 
 
 "Most likely she's hiding till she makes sure those 
 vermine are out of the way," said Antoine. "Keep 
 your eye on the gate, ma soeur ; old Blaque will tui-n 
 up." He nodded, and went on with his job; but he 
 knit his brow with a scowl. 
 
 " Take care you don't stay too long at that, Antoine," 
 said Marguerite; "the blood might go to your head and 
 bring on congestion." 
 
 "Oh! I'm all right, ma soeur," he replied, nodding 
 confidentially. 
 
 Marguerite felt a little reassured. She went back 
 into the dispensary and kept her watch on the gate ; but 
 when an hour went by, and there was no sign of Ma- 
 dame Blaquette, she could bear it no longer. The sus- 
 pense was intolerable. She resolved to go back to Nar-
 
 282 Narha. 
 
 ka and see what had happened there, at any rate. She 
 opened the door of the closet to tell Antoine she was 
 going, but to her surprise the place was empty. Where 
 and how had he gone off ? She remembered there was 
 a way out by the garden, but he must have got out of 
 the window ; and why on earth had he done this ? He 
 was to have made his escape that evening, travelling 
 in a wine wagon till he got to Caen, when he was to be 
 rolled off the truck, and to make his way on foot to 
 St. Aubin, his native village. It seemed to Marguerite 
 that everybody was on the wrong tack to-day. She 
 walked quickly on to Narka's. The Place was quiet, 
 just as she had left it an hour ago; no groups about, no 
 sign of any unusual incident, such as an arrest, having 
 stirred the neighborhood. This was reassuring; still 
 her hand shook as she pulled the bell, and she uttered 
 an exclamation of relief when Narka appeared. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 ' ' There has been nobody. I begin to think Madame 
 Blaquette imagined the whole thing." 
 
 " But the box ? What has she done with it ?" 
 
 "The box ? Hasn't she taken it to you ?" 
 
 "No; she has never been near me." 
 
 Narka turned deadly pale. A horrible suspicion 
 flashed through both their minds. "Oh, my God! it 
 was a trap," said Narka; "it was a trap set for Basil. 
 They saw him here last night." 
 
 Marguerite thought she had gone stark mad. The 
 scared expression of her face reminded Narka that she 
 had not told her about Basil's arrival. 
 
 " Oh, darling!" she said, " we have not had a moment 
 to breathe, or I should have told you Basil has escaped ; 
 he is here in Paris. He came to see me last night; he 
 had just only arrived by the train, and I was expecting
 
 Karka. 283 
 
 him again this morning when that dreadful woman 
 came." 
 
 " Basil is here!" Marguerite repeated, in amazement. 
 
 "Yes; he came late, about ten o'clock, and staid till 
 midnight; I watched him across the Place; there was 
 not a soul about; but those blood-hounds must have 
 tracked him! Oh, my God! has he fallen into their 
 fangs again?" She wrung ber hands in misery. 
 
 They stood silent, both their hearts beating with terror. 
 
 "Do you know at all what those papers contained?" 
 Marguerite asked, under her breath. 
 
 " I fancy they were a political programme, or some- 
 thing of that sort, drawn up by a man who is dead since, 
 Ivan Gorff told me. But tlien there were those articles 
 in Basil's own handwriting. Oh!" 
 
 Marguerite did not know what articles she was talk- 
 ing about; Narka had never told her of those transla- 
 tions, or of the meeting. 
 
 " Narka," she said, laying her hand on the girl's arm, 
 "do you think there was a confession in them ? About 
 Father Christopher ?" 
 
 "I don't think so; but I don't know. Oh, Margue- 
 rite, what is to be done?" 
 
 " Where is Basil staying ?" asked Marguerite. 
 
 "I don't know ; I never tliought of asking him. But 
 Sibyl will know ; he is most likely with her now, if — 
 Oh, my God ! I feel half mad ! Only think : he has 
 barely escaped, and to be cauglit again!" She put her 
 hand to her forehead, and dropped into a seat. 
 
 "We don't know yet whether he is caught," said 
 Marguerite, "or even likely to be caught; don't let us 
 jump at the wox'st conclusion in a minute. The whole 
 thing may be a silly scare of that old goose Blaquette's 
 invention,"
 
 284 Karha. 
 
 "But she said Sclienk sent her to warn me. How 
 could she have known I had papers unless he or some 
 one told her ?" 
 
 There was no denying this. 
 
 " Well, you can't sit here waiting to be arrested," said 
 Marguerite. "Put on your bonnet, and go round by 
 the back way, and take refuge with Madame Di-ex. 
 And this evening you can steal down to us." 
 
 Narka heaved a great sigh, but she did not move. 
 
 " Dear Narka, for Basil's sake don't lose heart," Mar- 
 guerite entreated. "Get up and go, and I will hurry 
 off to Sibyl." 
 
 "Oh, Sibyl! Sibyl!" Narka cried, in an accent of 
 poignant pain. 
 
 "Go!" Marguerite persisted, trying to make her rise. 
 Narka seemed incapable either of resisting or deciding. 
 She rose passively, and let Marguerite help on her bon- 
 net and cloak. 
 
 " Let me see you safe out by the window before I go," 
 said Marguerite. 
 
 But Narka, roused at last to some realization of her 
 position and of the necessity of the moment, said that 
 she must put away some few things and lock her draw- 
 ers. This was reasonable enough, and Marguerite, see- 
 ing that she had recovered her presence of mind, was 
 satisfied to leave her behind and hurry off on her own 
 mission. They stood at the door together. Narka took 
 her in her arms and kissed her, a long, loving kiss. 
 
 "God bless you, Marguerite! You are God's provi- 
 dence to me always." 
 
 She opened the door to let her out. As she did so, two 
 men stood outside. One was the Commissary of Police. 
 He laid his hand on Narka's shoulder and said, "I ar- 
 rest you in the name of the Emperor !"
 
 Narha. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Sibyl had retuiuiecl to Paris the moment the riots 
 were over; but she liad not ventured near the disturbed 
 quarters, nor had slie seen Marguerite, consequently 
 when the latter walked into her boudoir, half an hour 
 after Narka's arrest, Sibyl welcomed her with double 
 delight. 
 
 "You haven't met him!" she exclaimed, running to 
 embrace her. 
 
 " Whom ?" said Marguerite. 
 
 "Basil ! — yes, Basil ! He has only just left me. He 
 is gone off to see you and Narka. He walked in here 
 this morning, and nearly killed me with the joy of the 
 surprise. You look as if you thought I had gone crazy ; 
 but it is perfectly true." 
 
 "I am only too glad to believe it," replied Margue- 
 rite, with disappointing calmness. " I am glad of good 
 news from any direction." 
 
 "Why, what do you mean? What has happened?" 
 Sibyl asked, in alarm. 
 
 "Narka is in great trouble. She has been arrested." 
 
 "Arrested? Again? Here? Good heavens !" Sibyl 
 sat down. 
 
 "Yes," said Mai'guerite, sitting too ; " it happened half 
 an hour ago. I was there when the police came." 
 
 "And what have they arrested her for?" 
 
 Marguerite was embarrassed. If Basil had not spoken 
 of his engagement, it might be indiscreet to mention the 
 papers that had been seized. "I heard nothing except 
 that they had a warrant to arrest her," she said. But
 
 286 Narka. 
 
 tlie perplexity in her miud got into her face, and Sibyl 
 saw it. 
 
 "You know more than that, Marguerite," she said. 
 "Has Narka been associating with those wicked rioters 
 up at La Villette ?" 
 
 "A man who was wounded and pui*sued by the police 
 sought refuge with her one night, and that may have 
 been discovered. But what is to be done ? How are we 
 to help her? You must know hosts of people who have 
 influence. There is Prince Krinsky; you must go to 
 him." 
 
 "But he is the Russian Ambassador!" 
 
 "Well, and is not that a reason ? What are ambassa- 
 dors for but to help their countrymen when the^'^ get into 
 trouble ?" 
 
 "That depends upon what the trouble is. It is not 
 likely our Ambassador would feel it his duty to help 
 any Russian for conspiring against our Emperor." 
 
 "Why should you at once conclude that she has been 
 conspiring against your Emperor? My belief is, the 
 whole affair is either a gross mistake or some cruel trick, 
 and if you won't help her, I will ask Gaston to do it." 
 
 "As if I did not care a great deal more than Gaston 
 about Narka!" retorted Sibyl. " The fact is, I suspect I 
 know moi'e about this arrest than you do. We were 
 warned months ago that Narka was associating with dis- 
 reputable people who would get her into trouble. That 
 Dr. Scheuk that she had attending her bears a very com- 
 promising character. How came she to know him ?" 
 
 "Through Ivan Gorff. Ivan brought him to her 
 when she fell ill. That was not her fault." 
 
 "It was her misfortune, anyhow. It obliged me to 
 be very circumspect in my intei'course with her. It 
 would not have done for me to become identified with
 
 Narka. 287 
 
 a person who associated with bad characters. My house 
 is a centre of Russian society in Paris, and though I am 
 now a French woman, it might hav'e injured my father 
 and Basil if I had paraded my friendship with a Russian 
 who was on intimate terms with conspirators." 
 
 And so this was the mot cle Venigme, the secret of 
 the cold aloofness which had wounded Narka so deeply. 
 
 "I don't believe Narka has been associating with con- 
 spirators," said Marguerite. "You need not have been 
 afraid of her compromising you." Then, after a mo- 
 ment's pause, ' ' What would they do to her if she were 
 accused of anything of that sort ?" she asked. 
 
 ' ' If she has mixed herself up in any treason against 
 the Emperor of France, the French law would deal with 
 her." 
 
 "But if it was against the Emperor of Russia?" 
 
 "In that case they would send her to Russia to be 
 tried." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 If Sibyl's answer had been, "They will flog her to 
 death," the interjection could not have expressed more 
 horror. Marguerite's look and tone seemed to hold a 
 terrible revelation. 
 
 " Did Narka ever tell you about what happened to her 
 in the prison ?" Sibyl asked, in an altered manner. 
 
 "She let me guess. Oh, Sibyl!" said Marguerite, 
 clasping her hands, and her eyes filled with tears, "how 
 awful if she were to go through that again !" 
 
 Sibyl changed color, and stood up, and moved restless- 
 ly about the room. Then, as if conquered by some 
 motive which boi'e down all opposition, "I will go to 
 Prince Krinsky," she said. 
 
 Marguerit-e burst into tears, and kissed her, and hur- 
 ried away.
 
 288 N'arka. 
 
 Sibyl ordered the carriage and went to dress. Just 
 as she was ready to go down-stairs, Basil came back with 
 M. de Beaucrillon. They wex'e both in high spirits. 
 
 "You have not heard?" said Sibyl. "Narka is 
 arrested." 
 
 Basil uttered a violent expletive in Russian, and turn- 
 ed pale. 
 
 "Ai'rested! What for?" said M. de Beaucrillon,. 
 scarcely less moved. 
 
 " Marguerite, who told me about it — she has only just 
 gone — says she knows nothing but the fact of the arrest. 
 She was with Narka when the police came and carried 
 her away." 
 
 " I must go to her at once," said Basil, picking up his 
 hat, that he had dropped in his excitement, and he was 
 leaving the room. ' ' I must go to the prison and pay 
 my way in to her. Where is the prison ?" 
 
 "My dear Basil, you are the last person who ought 
 to go near her," protested Sibyl — "you who are so com- 
 promised yourself." 
 
 "Sibyl is right," said M. de Beaucrillon. "You 
 would only compromise her still more. But what in 
 Heaven's name has Narka been doing to get into this 
 new trouble ?" 
 
 Basil took a turn in the room, and then suddenly com- 
 ing up to Sibyl, he said, "The time has come for me to 
 speak out. I am engaged to Narka." 
 
 "TF/ia^ V Sibyl cried, almost with a slmek. 
 
 ^'DiableP^ exclaimed M. de Beaucrillon. 
 
 Then followed a pause of stupefied amazement from 
 both. 
 
 "Yes," said Basil, "the night I left Yrakow I asked 
 her to be my wife. I cannot see why the news should 
 strike you both dumb with horror, as if it were a crime.
 
 JVarka. 289 
 
 Narka is good and gifted and beautiful, and you, Sibyl, 
 iiave looked on her as a sister all your life." 
 
 But Sibyl could not answer liim; the power of speech 
 seemed to have left her. She was clutching the mantel, 
 her face was blanched, the color had faded from her 
 eyes, and they stared fixedly at Basil with an expression 
 that was indefinable. 
 
 "" Mon cJier arni,'" said M. de Beaucrillon, "I must 
 own I don't understand your wonder at the effect of your 
 announcement on my wife. It is not such a surprise 
 to me. I always thought Narka's position in the family 
 was an anomalous one, and likely to end in some ca- 
 tas — culmination of this sort. I said so to Sibyl long 
 ago, but she ridiculed the idea and laughed at me." 
 
 "I don't see why the culmination should have excited 
 Sibyl's ridicule," Basil retorted, looking angrily at her. 
 
 "One has not far to look for the I'eason, neverthe- 
 less," said Gaston. ' ' Mademoiselle Narka is undoubted- 
 ly all that you say, as gifted as she is good ; but she is 
 the daughter of a Jewish trader, whereas you are — " 
 
 "Her affianced husband," interrupted Basil. 
 
 "Ah ! just so. Then there is nothing more to be said, 
 and it only remains for me to congratulate you." And 
 M. de Beaucrillon bowed stiffly. 
 
 "Oh, Basil! Basil!" Sibyl cried, and she clasped her 
 hands and burst into tears, and flung herself sobbing on 
 a couch. 
 
 " So much for a woman's friendship!" said Basil, bit- 
 terly; and he looked at his brother-in-law as if expect- 
 ing him to acquiesce in the contemptuous sentiment. 
 But M. de Beaucrillon walked over and leaned against 
 the chimney-piece, looking down at his sobbing wife 
 with an air of unconcealed annoyance. 
 
 "Look here, Sibyl," said Basil, after a momentary 
 13
 
 290 Narha. 
 
 hesitation, " and you too, de Beaucrillon, listen to what 
 I have to say, and give me a fair hearing. When I 
 came back that evening with Father Christopher's par- 
 don there was a warrant signed for my arrest. The 
 Stanovoi gave me notice, and oifered to let me escape 
 before the warrant reached him if I paid him fifty thou- 
 sand roubles. I could not by any possibility lay my 
 hands on the sum within the time. I had three hours 
 to find it. I knew you had not half the amount with 
 you, and there was no one else to call upon. I was 
 prepared to be arrested by ten o'clock that night. I 
 told Narka about the warrant, and by mere chance I 
 mentioned the offer made me by the Stanovoi. She 
 gave me the money, and I escaped." 
 
 " Narka!" they both exclaimed, aghast. 
 
 ' ' Narka gave you jifty thousand roubles .'" repeated 
 M. de Beaucrillon, in a tone of dense incredulity. 
 
 "Narka," replied Basil. "It so happened that that 
 very day she learned that a legacy of precisely fifty 
 thousand roubles had been paid into the hands of PeiTOw 
 for her by the executor of an uncle of Tante Nathalie. 
 Narka rode in to X., got the money, and returned just in 
 time. The Stanovoi, who had had me closely watched, 
 was lying in ambush at the gate, and I paid him the 
 money. Before making my escape I asked Narka to be 
 my wife." 
 
 ^^ Ma foil I don't see how you could have helped 
 it !" exclaimed M. de Beaucrillon, with generous warmth ; 
 " no man of honor could have done less." 
 
 "I don't see that at all," said Sibyl, whose sobs and 
 tears had been suddenly checked by the counter-current 
 of emotion. " I can't see that honor made it necessary 
 for him to dishonor his name. It was most kind and 
 generous of Nai'ka; but any friend worthy of the name
 
 JSFarka. 291 
 
 would have done as much. And as fax* as that went, I 
 would have paid the debt, had I known of it, within a 
 month. I will do so now, and twofold, tenfold, grate- 
 fully and willingly." 
 
 "There are debts that cannot be paid," said Basil, 
 angry and hurt ; "but the money is the least part of what 
 I owe Narka." He pulled at his mustache, and after 
 a moment's wavering and debating, "I had in my pos- 
 session at the time," he continued, "documents that 
 were then of great importance, and of the most compro- 
 mising character ; I could not destroy them, and I dai'ed 
 not take them with me. I asked Narka to keep them. 
 I knew and she knew that they would bring grievous 
 trouble on any one with whom they were found ; but she 
 accepted the trust without hesitating. The Stanovoi, 
 who knew she had been with me to the last, and who no 
 doubt discovered that she had given me the ransom, de- 
 nounced her as having my papers. She was arrested, 
 and kept six months in prison. God and herself alone 
 know what she suffered there ; but they got nothing out 
 of her. She left Kronstadt without having betrayed me 
 by a word." He seemed almost overcome for a moment. 
 " You know the rest," he went on, hurriedly. " Tante 
 Nathalie could not rally from the shock. Narka came 
 away amongst strangers, first in one place, then in 
 another; she suffei*ed every sort of hardship, and it 
 has been all my doing. And because I don't throw her 
 over like a heartless scoundrel, you cry out that I am 
 dishonoring myself !" 
 
 "Narka is a noble creature," said M. de Beaucrillon, 
 with genuine feeling. "No man worthy of the name 
 could behave otherwise than you are doing." 
 
 Sibyl, who had entirely ceased crying, got up and 
 went over to Basil and kissed him. "Yes, Narka has
 
 292 JVarka. 
 
 beliaved nobly," she said, " and you are the most chival- 
 rous of men. For the sake of all she has done and suf- 
 fered, we will receive her as your wife." 
 
 The concession was probably as much as Basil could 
 have expected fi'om Sibyl under any circumstances ; but 
 he took it coldly, and without a word of thanks or com- 
 ment. 
 
 "The question now is," said M. de Beaucrillon, "what 
 is to be done to get her out of this fresh trouble. You 
 have no idea what has led to it ?" 
 
 " I may still be the cause of it," Basil replied, remem- 
 bering last night's visit, and the possibility of its having 
 been discovered. "She may have kept those papers; it 
 is very possible." 
 
 " Then we must go to Prince Krinsky at once," said 
 Sibyl. 
 
 "What has Krinsky to do with it?" asked Basil, 
 sharply, 
 
 "If she has been watched by our police — and nobody 
 else had any motive in watching her — Prince Krinsky 
 will know, and he is the only person who can help." 
 
 Basil thought it very unlikely that the Prince would 
 help ; the name of Krinsky had been as the seven devils 
 let loose on him all these months in St. Petersburg, and 
 the name of Zorokoff was no doubt in equally bad odor 
 "with the Krinskys. The ambassador was not likely to 
 extend his favor to any offender who was identified with 
 the family of the man who had rejected Princess Marie. 
 
 ' ' Sibyl is right, " said M. de Beaucrillon. ' ' Krinsky is 
 the person we must apply to, and no time must be lost." 
 
 "I wish I could see Ivan before w^e move in the 
 matter," said Basil, in evident perplexity. He went to 
 the window, and saw that the brougham was waiting 
 in the court; then pulled out his watch. "I think I
 
 Narka. 293 
 
 could catch him by driving there now. Yes, I will try 
 and see Ivan; he will throw some light on the affair 
 that will guide us. Don't go to the Russian embassy 
 till I come back," he said to Sibyl; and snatching 
 up his hat, he hurried away, and in a minute they heard 
 the bi'ougham driving out of the court. 
 
 " Well !" said M. de Beaucrillon, flinging himself into 
 a chair, and he threw up his hands in a gesture of utter 
 amazement; "it is the most astounding story that I 
 ever heard !" 
 
 Sibyl tore off her bonnet and tossed it from her, and 
 pulled off her gloves in an excited manner; she seemed 
 too agitated to speak. After a pause, "To think," she 
 burst out, "that Narka should have been all this time 
 engaged to him and never told me ! The base hypocrisy 
 of it is incredible. And to think of such a scene going 
 on that night at Yrakow and I left in ignorance of it !'' 
 
 "She showed extraordinary self-control, certainly," 
 said M. de Beaucrillon; "very few women could go 
 through such an ordeal without betraying themselves. 
 And by heavens she does know how to love a man!" 
 he added, in a tone of admiration that had a ring of envy 
 in it. 
 
 "Better than she knows how to love a woman," re- 
 torted Sibyl. "To think that she could be so treachery 
 ous!" 
 
 ^^ Quelle hetiseT and M. de Beaucrillon threw back 
 his head with a contemptuous laugh. 
 
 " It was treacherous of her," repeated Sibyl, her eyes 
 glittering. 
 
 ' ' It would have been treacherous to Basil if she had 
 betrayed his secret. Seigneur Dieu, quelle etude de 
 mcBurs moscovites .'" M. de Beaucrillon laughed again, 
 and rose, and began to walk about the room. " No, ma
 
 294 Narha. 
 
 cliere amie,'''' he went on, "such a romance could never 
 be acted in any country under heaven but Russia. Such 
 a series of exaggerations, such a jumble of chivalry and 
 cowardice, of generosity and selfishness ! It passes hu- 
 man understanding." 
 
 "You mean French understanding. You ax'e so 
 chauvin, Gaston ; you never can see things from any 
 but the French point of view." 
 
 "Very likely, ma chere amie; just as you can only 
 see them from the Russian point of vie^. A French- 
 man in Basil's place would, ten to one, have fallen in 
 love with Narka, as a boy ; would perhaps — well, he cer- 
 tainly never would, as a man, have elected to marry 
 her." 
 
 " Why, you said just now that no man in Basil's place 
 could have done otherwise." 
 
 "Precisely — in Basil's place; but a Frenchman would 
 never have put himself in Basil's place; but having 
 taken her money, and put her life and liberty in peril, 
 and brought her into such terrible tribulation, a French- 
 man would not have gone back to Russia and lived in 
 luxury at court, and left the woman he owed all that 
 to in every sort of hardship. Basil ought not to have 
 left his money debt unpaid all this time, at any rate. 
 Why did he not tell the Prince about it ?" 
 
 " My father ?" cried Sibyl. " Basil knew better than 
 to do that. My father would have cursed him." 
 
 ' ' Et apres f We are not in the days of the patriarchs, 
 and curses break no bones. Ma chere, your men have 
 something to be desired ; there is a flaw in their chivalry 
 at its best. But your women — by Heaven, they are a 
 splendid race! Narka is a grand specimen of them, 
 and Basil would be a scoundrel if he threw her over for 
 all the curses of all the papas in holy Russia."
 
 Narha. 295 
 
 Sibyl could not wish Basil to be a scouudrel, but 
 neither could she face the other alternative. Surely 
 there must be some way out of the difficulty; surely 
 Providence would rescue the pride of the ZorokolFs from 
 this shame, would save the holy place from that abom- 
 ination of abominations, Jewish blood! She sat still, 
 except for the nervous mechanical action of twisting 
 her handkerchief into a tight rope, unconscious that her 
 fingers wei'e tearing the costly rag to shreds. The gong 
 sounded, announcing a visitor. 
 
 "I hope no one is coming up here," she said, impa- 
 tiently. " Ring to forbid it." 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon rang the bell which sounded the 
 desired jirohibition, but before a servant could appear. 
 Marguerite walked into the boudoir. They both greet- 
 ed her with an exclamation of relief. 
 
 " Well, what news ? — have you seen her ?" said Sibyl. 
 
 "No; she has been before the Petit Parquet all the 
 morning; but one of the officials told me that she is to 
 be taken from the depot to-niglit to St. Lazai'e.". 
 
 "Ah! then there is a true case against her?" said 
 Gaston. ' ' There will be a trial ?" 
 
 "Evidently. But I shall see Narka herself to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "Oh, Marguerite," cried Sibyl, "you don't know half 
 the trouble. Basil is engaged to her! he is going to 
 marry her ! — NarTca .'" 
 
 Marguerite uttered something inarticulate, and blush- 
 ed slowly. 
 
 "Yes, it is not to be believed," protested Sibyl, mis- 
 interpreting the blush and the exclamation. "And 
 fancy her never breathing a word of it to any of us ! — 
 to me, that she pretended to love so ! It is enough to 
 make one loathe the whole race more than ever!"
 
 296 JSTarka. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon shrugged his shoulders, and turned 
 away with an impatient expletive. 
 
 "Perhaps Basil forbade her to tell," Marguerite 
 pleaded. 
 
 "Of course he did," said M. de Beaucrillon, facing 
 round. "You talk like a fool, Sibyl. And what differ- 
 ence would it have made if she had told you ? Would 
 that have reconciled you to the marriage ? Not a whit." 
 
 "I should have felt that she had behaved loyally 
 to me." 
 
 "Bah ! Her first loyalty was due to Basil. And she 
 has proved that right nobly. The only pity is she's not 
 a Narichkin or a Woronsoff . " 
 
 "Yes, that is just the pity. But she is neither the one 
 nor the other ; she is a Jewess. You cannot understand 
 what that means to people of our caste in Russia; but 
 Narka does, and I cannot understand how her own pride 
 did not protect us. I wonder she did not shrink from 
 bringing the disgrace of her Jewish blood into our 
 house." 
 
 "What rank nonsense you are talking!" said M. de 
 Beaucrillon, all his chivalry and manliness enlisted on 
 Narka's side by this savage exaggei'ation of scorn. 
 " She has every quality that can ennoble and endear a 
 woman, and Basil loves her." 
 
 " Does he ? He had not the tone of a man who was 
 in love. My conviction is, he asked her in a moment 
 of exuberant feeling, from a sense of honor, and that 
 he regrets it in his heart." 
 
 ' ' By-the-way," said M. de Beaucrillon, turning to Mar- 
 guerite, "you have not heard the story yet." And he 
 told her briefly of the ransom, the flight, the papers left 
 with Narka, and the trouble they had brought upon her. 
 
 "Oh, Sibyl, is it any wonder that Basil loves her?"
 
 JSTarka. 29*7 
 
 Marguerite pleaded. "How could he have done less 
 than make her an offer of his hand ?" 
 
 "Perhaps not," replied Sibyl; "but Narka took an 
 unworthy advantage in accepting it. She knew the 
 offer was made in a moment of extraordinary excite- 
 ment, under almost overpowering pressure of motives; 
 she ought to have said, ' Wait a year, and then, if you 
 are of the same mind, ask me again.' " 
 
 "I wonder how many men would have been of the 
 same mind at the end of a year!" said Marguerite, with 
 a toss of her head. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon looked at her in amused surprise. 
 "You little skeptic, where did you get your estimate 
 of us, I should like to know ? I dare say you are right 
 enough, though," he added. "All the same, I'm not 
 sure but that the ficklest among us would prefer the 
 woman who took him at his word — the woman who 
 loved him would be sure to do that; and Narka loves 
 Basil, and no mistake." 
 
 " Then, if she loves him, she must do him good," said 
 Marguerite. "Oh, Sibyl, won't you remember all she 
 has suffered for Basil's sake, and try to love her ?" 
 
 " I have got first to try to forgive her," Sibyl replied, 
 coldly. She looked as cold and hard as if she had been 
 turned to ice. 
 
 Marguerite had been prepared for a great deal, but the 
 sight of this frozen hardness under that soft, smiling, 
 sympathetic exterior shocked her inexpressibly. 
 
 "What is there to be done ?" she said, addressing her 
 brother. "Prince Krinsky will help, will he not?" 
 
 "We don't know that yet," replied Gaston. "If, as 
 we fear — as Basil fears — the trouble comes from med- 
 dling with Russian politics, the Russian ambassador may 
 refuse to interfere."
 
 2&8 Narha. 
 
 " But he has a wife, a daughter ? Princess Marie, who 
 is so young, surely she will be kind ? Go to her, Sibyl, 
 and tell her everytliing. Tell her that Basil loves Nar- 
 ka, and is engaged to be married to her." 
 
 Sibyl gave a little sardonic laugh. "That would not 
 be the way to touch her: no woman cares to help the 
 rival who has supplanted her. Marie would hate Nar- 
 ka; in her place, any girl would, unless she were an 
 angel." 
 
 "And why should she not be an angel? Nothing 
 makes angels or devils of people like believing them to 
 be such. Go to Marie as if you believed she was an an- 
 gel; tell her everything, and trust to her pity and gen- 
 erosity. Dear Sibyl, do !" 
 
 While Marguerite pleaded and entreated, Sibyl seem- 
 ed to be rapidly debating the question in her own 
 mind ; she was looking fixedly out of the window, her 
 features agitated, her hands nervously moving in that 
 unconscious, mechanical twisting of her handkerchief. 
 Suddenly her brow cleared, like a person who sees a 
 way out of a difficulty, and has determined to follow it. 
 
 "Yes, you are right," she said ; "that is the best thing 
 to do. We must wait till Basil comes back, as we prom- 
 ised him, and if he has no reason for preventing it, I will 
 go at once to Marie and try if she is of the stuff that 
 angels are made of." 
 
 Marguerite had now done all that was possible for 
 the moment ; so, promising to let them know when she 
 had seen Narka, went away. 
 
 M. de Beaucrillon, observant of the courtesies which 
 French gentlemen never fail in to the women of their 
 family, saw her down-stairs, and then returned to the 
 boudoir. He was struck immediately by the change 
 that had taken place in Sibyl. The strained, angry,
 
 JSfarJca. ^09 
 
 perplexed look had entirely passed away from her coun- 
 tenance, and it now wore a resolute, almost a radiant 
 expi'ession. Was it the hope of saving Narka from a 
 horrible fate that had suddenly flushed her pale cheeks 
 and lighted those lamps of triumph in her eyes? 
 What else could it be ? And yet, for the first time, as 
 lie looked at his wife, M. de Beaucrillon did not 
 think Sibyl beautiful.
 
 300 Narka. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Narka was alone in her cell at St. Lazare. No one 
 had been to see her. She had waited and watched all 
 the day long. Every echoing step on the stone corridor 
 made her pulses quicken with hope: it might be Mar- 
 guerite, or Sibyl, or even Basil. But the day dragged 
 on to its close, the bars and bolts of the prison were 
 drawn, and no one came. 
 
 Narka had not slept the previous night, and she had 
 hardly tasted food since her arrest; she was physically 
 exhausted, and her nerves were strained and excited to 
 the verge of delirium. When the night closed in she 
 was in the state of one prepared to see visions. For 
 a while the lamp burning outside sent a tawny light 
 into her cell through the window above the door; but 
 this was put out, and then all was black as the tomb, 
 and a horror of gi'eat darkness fell upon her. She could 
 not say how long it lasted; but suddenly the external 
 blackness was pierced through by a vivid inward illu- 
 mination. Her whole life, from childhood to the pre- 
 sent hour, passed before her, with its sorrows, its blight- 
 ed hopes, its pathetic failures; every circumstance be- 
 came invested with a high prophetic meaning, every 
 cruel and humiliating event was instinct with a su- 
 preme significance, every incident pointed to momentous 
 issues. Her faith, hitherto a sort of dreamy mysticism, 
 gradually kindled to a kind of frenzy, that she mistook 
 for inspiration. She saw the divine scheme for the re- 
 demption of humanity unfolding before her like a
 
 NarJca. 301 
 
 scroll, and she read her own part distinctly written 
 there. God, avIio had created and redeemed every in- 
 dividual softl, could not overlook tlie very least of His 
 cred^tures ; with Him there was neither greater nor less- 
 er; the monai'ch on his throne and the moudjik in his 
 hovel were of equal value in His sight; the same hand 
 which fashioned the eagle and bid it soar and fix the 
 mid-day sun, also created the worm, and bade it crawl 
 upon the earth, and both were His creatures, equally 
 entitled to His care. It was, nevertheless, in the order 
 of His providence that amongst men there should be 
 higher and lower; that some should play a grand part 
 in life, and some an obscure one ; that some should com- 
 mand and enjoy, and even sin with impunity, while 
 others were condemned to suffer for the sins of all. 
 And these latter were His chosen partners in the plan 
 of redemption. They w^ere to enter into glory with 
 Him through suffering, and become like unto gods. 
 
 As the symbolism of her destiny revealed itself to 
 Narka, her heart swelled with a sense of vengeful 
 triumph. She exulted in her Christ-like mission, and 
 in spirit trampled under foot the Pharisees and tyrants 
 who pei'secuted her. The night wore on in this frenzy 
 of pride and hallucination. The prison clock told away 
 the hours. The dawn broke, but in the cell all was still 
 dark. Suddenly a gleam of light crept in through the 
 window above the door, and Nai'ka, looking up as if 
 something had touched her, saw the white figure of the 
 crucifix, alone visible in the encircling blackness. 
 
 " Yes," she said within herself, "it is we who can look 
 down from our gibbet on the children of this world, the 
 fools who feast and revel, while we agonize with Christ 
 in His passion ! To us, instead of ashes. He will give 
 a crown and a garment of glory for an afflicted spirit.
 
 302 Narha. 
 
 Those who have dwelt in the tombs shall rejoice and 
 sing canticles, while those who have slept in palaces on 
 pillows of down shall howl for grief and Yend their 
 garments!" 
 
 In the weird, shadowy dawnlight her thoughts grew 
 concrete, and took tangible form. She saw a long pro- 
 cession marching past — victors and saints who had bless- 
 ed their generation, and left the world better than they 
 found it; but they were not the prosperous ones whose 
 course had been through flowery meads, full of sunshine 
 and peace; they were men who had suffered, who had 
 known poverty, humiliation, and defeat. She saw that 
 never since the beginning of the world liad a nation's 
 wrong been made right, or a people's sorrow consoled, 
 by the rich and the satisfied, who had gone through life 
 making merry, crowned witji flowers, and sung to and 
 smiled upon ; these conquests had been achieved by pil- 
 grims who toiled through the desert in hunger and thirst 
 and nakedness, or by martyrs who walked over the fiery 
 ploughshares. 
 
 Narka had always vaguely held that suffering was 
 in itself an agency of redemption, and meritorious apart 
 from all merit or I'esponse in the sufferer. The- old 
 creed was now asserting itself with the passionate in- 
 tensity which belongs rather to fanaticism than to faith. 
 She looked upon herself as a victim for her people, an 
 object of complacency to the court of heaven. Her 
 mind, her senses, her heart, inflamed by these stern and 
 sanguine orthodoxies, all shared the intoxication of the 
 vision they had conjured up. Religious stimulants 
 have a close and very terrible parallel with alcoholic 
 ones, especially when, as in Narka's case, the passion of 
 love finds itself mixed up with them. In this splendid 
 apotheosis, where she was the central figure, she was
 
 JSfarka. 303 
 
 not alone — Basil Zorokoff was by her side, he was whis- 
 pering in her ear ; evex'y fibre of her heart was thrilling 
 to what he whispered; she felt his breath upon her 
 cheek, she felt the warm clasp of his arm I'ound her. 
 Ah ! let fate do its worst upon her; with that arm clasp- 
 ing her she could never be wholly miserable. But sud- 
 denly the smile of rapture that trembled on her lips died 
 away. What fool's paradise had she wandered into ? 
 She was in prison, and so perhaps was Basil, for all she 
 knew. There was that box containing the articles in 
 his handwriting! If the writing should be traced? 
 Narka shuddered, but quickly dismissing the horrible 
 thought, she remembered that Basil was in France, and 
 that his own government could not touch him, and the 
 French police were not likely to be able to identify the 
 writing of a Russian. 
 
 The great clock struck five, and the profound stillness 
 began to be broken by those sounds which announce, 
 even in a prison, that the inmates are awakening to the 
 activities of life. Warders came and went along the 
 flagged passages, doors were opened and shut, the bell 
 summoned the prisoners to the scant morning meal. 
 Narka was not in the category of those who had to obey 
 its call. Her food was brought to her. She was too 
 faint and feverish to feel any appetite, but she knew that 
 this was partly the effect of hunger, so she ate a few 
 mouthf uls, and went back to her visions. The morning 
 wore on. It was near noon, and she was still sitting on 
 the edge of her bed, listless, tired, her mind strained be- 
 tween something like ecstasy and stupor, when the door 
 of her cell opened, and some one pronounced her name. 
 She started, stood straight up, and felt herself clasped in 
 Sibyl's arms. 
 
 "Basil ?" she said, in a frightened whisper, and disen-
 
 304 Narka. 
 
 gaging herself, she fixed her passionate, yearning eyes 
 on Sibyl, 
 
 " He has told us everything." 
 
 "And you forgive me ? You forgive us both ?" 
 
 ' ' Forgive you ! My brave, generous Narka, what have 
 I to forgive?" And Sibyl kissed her again, tenderly, 
 clingingly, and then she dx'ew^ her to the bed, and they 
 sat down together. 
 
 Narka was crying; it was an immense relief both to 
 her nerves and her heart, and Sibyl let the teai-s flow 
 on, wiping them away gently with her own little cam- 
 bric handkerchief, and kissing the heavy white lids 
 betweentimes. But Narka was not one to indulge long 
 in the luxury of emotion. She drew a deep breath, and 
 then, lifting her head from Sibyl's shoulder, 
 
 "Tell me what has happened," she said. "Has he 
 been arrested ?" 
 
 "Who? Basil? No. Did you hear that he had been ?" 
 
 "I have heard nothing. I have seen nobody. I 
 thought Marguerite would have come." 
 
 " She has been trying to get to see you from the first, 
 but they made difficulties. Gaston saw the president of 
 the Petit Parquet this morning." 
 
 "Ah! And what did he tell him? About the ai'ti- 
 cles in that box ? Do they know who wrote them ?" 
 
 "They have not got the box. It seems that just as 
 the detective was carrying it off, a man fell upon him 
 and knocked him down, and seized it and made away 
 with it." 
 
 " Oh ! Who was the man, did they say ?" 
 
 "He was a rebel, who had been wounded in the head 
 during the emeute. Gaston did not hear his name." 
 
 "It was Antoine Drex!" Narka exclaimed, with sud- 
 den elation.
 
 JVarka. 305 
 
 "Oh, Nai'ka!" said Sibyl, shocked at what seemed 
 to her like cynical complacency in the disreputable cir- 
 cumstances ; ' ' what could have induced you to mix 
 yourself up with those low men and their politics ?" 
 
 "I did not mix myself up with them," protested Nar- 
 ka. ' ' I have never meddled in their politics here. 
 Why should I ?" 
 
 "But you have meddled in Russian politics. They 
 say you have been associating with the worst revolu- 
 tionists, and frequenting their meetings. They say you 
 were at one on the lOtli where a plot was discussed for 
 murdering our Emperor." 
 
 "That is a lie. I was not there. And if I had been, 
 I should certainly have not voted for such an insane 
 crime as that. What stupidity! What good covild it 
 do to murder the Emperor? Who could have said I was 
 there ? Not that it matters. Even if I had been, I am 
 in a foreign country, and beyond the reach of Russian 
 tyranny. Their slanders can't touch me here." 
 
 "Dear, you are mistaken," said Sibyl, with a certain 
 tender hesitation; "if it is proved, or even asserted on 
 good authority, that you have been mixed up with the 
 revolutionary movement, the Russian law will reach 
 you here just as surely as if you were at home." 
 
 "How so ?" Narka started perceptibly. 
 
 "If the Russian authorities demand it, our ambassa- 
 dor will be obliged to claim you as a Russian subject. " 
 
 "What do you mean ?" said Narka, turning a white 
 face to her. 
 
 ' ' Dearest, did you not know ? As a Russian subject, 
 guilty of high-treason, you will be handed over to our 
 ambassador and taken back to be tried in Russia." 
 
 Narka stared at her, every feature convulsed, while 
 a cold chill of horror stole the heat out of her blood. 
 20
 
 306 Narlm. 
 
 " They will send me back to Russia V she murmured, 
 in a voice tliat sounded like a whisper in the dark. 
 
 " Is it possible that you did not know ? Oh, my dar- 
 ling, what blind folly you have been guilty of in med- 
 dling with politics and conspiracies! And what was 
 Ivan Gorff about that he did not warn you ? He knows 
 the perils and the risks of it all. It was unpardonable 
 of him not to have warned and protected you. But per- 
 haps you did not tell Ivan ? If you would but trust 
 your friends, Narka!" 
 
 But Narka did not hear what she was saying. Her 
 lips had fallen apart; there came a blackness under her 
 eyes as if they reflected suddenly some invisible si^ec- 
 tacle of woe or horror; her hands opened and closed 
 nervously, and then crept slowly up and coiled round 
 her neck; she presented an image of terror and despair 
 awful to behold. Sibyl watched her with intensely cu- 
 rious but not unpitiful eyes; she pitied her sincerely, 
 but she pitied hei-self more ; she wanted to save Narka, 
 but she wanted first to save Basil and the pride of the 
 ZorokofiPs. Tlie moment had now come, she thought, 
 for proposing the only expedient which might do this. 
 She laid her hand on Nai'ka's tense arm; it shuddered 
 under the touch. 
 
 "This is what I have dreaded from the moment I 
 heard of your being arrested," she said. " I lay awake 
 all last night thinking how I could save you, and pray- 
 ing to God to show me a way. For, Narka, there is no 
 use in trying to deceive ourselves: you will be handed 
 over to the Russian government and taken to St. Pe- 
 tersburg, and then — But, darling, thei'e is one chance 
 still of saving you. I know not how to propose it, for 
 the sacrifice will be almost worse than the sacrifice of 
 your life."
 
 JVarka. 307 
 
 Narka did not make a sign, but sat staring at vacancy, 
 her eyes still riveted on that unseen horror. 
 
 "Beloved," continued Sibyl, in her soft, caressing 
 voice, "if you are sent back to Russia, it means Kron- 
 stadt" — a tremor ran through Narka — "or Siberia; in 
 either case a fate as cruel as death — and you are parted 
 from Basil forever. If you give him up voluntarily 
 now, you will remain free, and you will be still his sis- 
 ter and mine." 
 
 Narka did not speak, but she moved her head im- 
 perceptibly toward Sibyl; the movement seemed to 
 say, " What do you mean ?" 
 
 Sibyl stole one arm round her neck, and speaking 
 rapidly, " Oh, my darling," she said, " if I could take tlie 
 sting out of the sacrifice for you ! . . . but the alternative 
 is so horrible it will give you courage. Renounce 
 Basil ; tell him you have ceased to care for him ; that you 
 will not many him because you don't love him. He will 
 then be free to go and offer himself to Prince Krinsky's 
 daughter, and ask her to obtain your release." 
 
 Narka at last was moved from her stony immobility. 
 She slowly drew away her hands from about her neck 
 and dropped them, and looked at Sibyl. " Tell him that 
 I do not love himf she repeated. "He would not 
 believe me; he would know that it was a lie." 
 
 " He knew it once, dear; but you may have changed 
 since then. How many women would ! Remember it 
 is nearly two years since you have met." 
 
 " It is not three days I I saw him here before you did. 
 He came to me the moment he arrived in Paris, and he 
 knows whether or not I have ceased to love him. Yes, 
 he knows — he knows that I love him with my whole 
 soul ; that to give him up would be to me woi'se than 
 death, worse than Kronstadt!" Her eyes, a moment
 
 308 JVarka. 
 
 ago fixed and lifeless, grew suddenly incandescent as 
 they met Sibyl's, glittering with fury. 
 
 "So you have been deceiving me to the very last!" 
 Sibyl said, with a light laugh that sounded horrid; 
 " while I have been watching and praying, and straining 
 every nerve to save you, you have been playing the 
 hypocrite, spreading your toils I'ound my brother, and 
 acting a living lie ! a false friend ! a companion of men 
 who plot murder! You are a base, guilty woman !" 
 
 ' ' Guilty ?" repeated Narka, and she rose slowly to her 
 feet, no longer the cowed, terror-stricken creatui'e of a 
 moment ago, but a gi*and, passionate woman, strong in 
 her innocence, and conscious by her sufferings of being 
 set high above this proud daughter of princes — "guilty ? 
 Look at that symbol." And she pointed to the white 
 Figure on the wall. "We shall both of us be judged 
 by it, condemned or acquitted according to the likeness 
 we bear to it. Which of us, you or I, as we stand here, 
 most resembles Him ? Is it you with your wealth, your 
 splendor, and your high place in this world, your feast- 
 ing and purple and fine linen, your pampered ease ; or 
 I, in humiliation and poverty, in my body seamed with 
 scars, marked and cut with the hangman's lash" — Sibyl 
 uttered a low cry, and hid her face — "with my heart 
 pierced by tlie murder of my kindred, with my soul 
 made sorrowful to death by the sufferings of my people, 
 and the sight of the wrongs inflicted on them by you 
 and your caste ? Is it I, in my nakedness of this world's 
 goods, in imprisonment and persecution, in the martyr's 
 death that perhaps awaits me ? Let the Christ speak, 
 and say which of us two is guilty, which of us two de- 
 serves that glance of recognition reserved to those who 
 here below have been likened to the Man of Sorrows I" 
 
 Narka had begun in a husky, agitated voice, but as
 
 Narha. 309 
 
 she went on it rose, under the stress of irrepressible emo- 
 tion, to higli vibrating tones. As she stood pointing to 
 the Figure on the cross, Sibyl almost expected to hear 
 a voice resound in the dai'k cell, uttering the awful sen- 
 tence of acquittal and denunciation : " Come, ye blessed ! 
 — Depart, ye accursed !" 
 
 " Narka ! Narka !" she cried, cowering before the terri- 
 ble wrath of the woman she had scorned a moment ago, 
 and who now stood like the avenger of the brethren, 
 accusing her before the judgment-seat; "why do you 
 curse me? I have not done those things; I had no 
 hand in the murder of your kindred or in the sorrows 
 that have come upon you. I have loved you always; 
 but you broke away from me; you tui-ned against us, 
 and took part with those who hate us. Why did not 
 you trust me? I wanted to save you — God knows I did 
 — and you upbraid me as if I had been seeking to de- 
 stroy you." 
 
 But Sibyl too had had her hour of exaltation. Her 
 nerves, taxed to their utmost by the strain of the last 
 three daj^s, broke down, and she bui'st into a fit of hys- 
 terical weeping. 
 
 Narka seemed hardly conscious of her presence. Her 
 whole soul was torn asunder by this choice that was 
 thrust upon her of renouncing Basil or going back to 
 encounter again those horrors of which she had never 
 spoken to any human being. 
 
 The hour struck without either of them hearing it; 
 but it was a relief to both when the wai'der came and 
 said it was time for Sibyl to come away. When the 
 door had closed upon her, Narka flung herself upon 
 the bed, and her bursting heart once more found relief 
 iji a passionate flood of tears.
 
 310 JVarka. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 When Basil went in search of Ivan on the morning 
 of Narka's arrest, he heard tliat his friend had left 
 town, and, as usual, without saying where he was going 
 or when he would return. Basil went every day to the 
 house to inquire, and on the fourth day, late in the after- 
 noon, he walked into Ivan's room, and found him 
 smoking a pipe and reading the newspajier. 
 
 "You have not heard what has happened?" said 
 Basil, guessing fi-om his quiet air and occupation that 
 he knew nothing. 
 
 "What?" said Ivan, removing his pipe, and opening 
 his eyes in hilarious curiosity. 
 
 * ' Narka has been arrested. She has been four days 
 in prison." 
 
 Ivan dropped the newspaper with an oath. 
 
 Basil related all he knew of the event. Then he 
 said : " Who has done it ? Can it be Schenk ?" 
 
 Ivan did not answer. He laid his clinched hands on 
 his knees, and bent forward, as if lost in perplexity. 
 He knew of Schenk's passion for Narka, and Olga Borzi- 
 doff knew it; she had complained bitterly to Ivan of 
 Schenk's unfaithfulness, and she was a violent, vin- 
 dictive woman, whose jealousy would be unscrupulous. 
 If Schenk had let out the fact that Narka had docu- 
 ments in her possession, Olga would not have hesitated 
 to use the knowledge in order to destroy her. There 
 was no use, however, in confiding these suspicions to 
 Basil.
 
 JVarka. 311 
 
 "Schenk has never done it," he said ; "he is not capa- 
 ble of it; but he may have been fool enough to let out 
 something that compromised lier. If he has, he de- 
 serves the knout!" Ivan ground his teeth with a sinis- 
 ter sound. "But the thing is, what is to be done for 
 her ? Your sister must have interest at court. She will 
 use it, won't .she ? Napoleon, for all he is a despot, has 
 a man's heart, and can be pitiful, and the Empress is a 
 woman." 
 
 "That won't help, if it can be proved that Narka 
 has been mixed up in our work. If they accuse her 
 of offending against the French law, well and good; 
 the people here may help; but if not, there is no one but 
 Krinsky who could do it.'' 
 
 " That will be the devil to pay!" said Ivan, savagely. 
 
 "Yes, that will be the devil to pay," repeated Basil, 
 and he got up and walked to the window, his hands 
 thrust deep in his pockets. "You see," he said, still 
 looking out of the window, and speaking with his back 
 to Ivan, "as tho.se infernal papers, which I believe are 
 at the bottom of it all, have been rescued, they have no 
 material proof of her having worked with us; they may 
 accuse her, but if they can't prove anything, they will 
 have to let her go. The French law would protect her 
 so far, would it not ?" 
 
 "If the Russian government say they have proof 
 that she has been conspiring — and they won't stick at 
 saying it if it suits lliem — the French law can't refuse to 
 give her up," said Ivan. 
 
 " In that case, my sister must go at once to Ki*insky." 
 
 "She can't go to him to-day, nor to-morrow either; 
 he left Paris last night for Berlin." 
 
 "Confound it! did he?" said Basil, turning suddenly 
 round. " And when is he to be back ?"
 
 312 Narha. 
 
 "I don't know. He is to stop at Berlin two days, 
 and then, unless his business is arranged at once with 
 Bismarck, he will go on to St. Petersburg." 
 
 " Have you any idea when the trial is likely to come 
 on ?" asked Basil. 
 
 "I don't suppose before a month at least." 
 
 "And they will keep lier in prison all that time un- 
 tried ?" 
 
 "Yes. They have got their prisow preventive here 
 like us, for all their boasted liberty and justice. But it 
 "will serve a good purpose for once by giving Krinsky 
 time to be back before the trial comes on." 
 
 Basil said nothing for a moment. Then, "We can't 
 "wait for Krinsky to come back," he said. "I must 
 start after him at once, and secure him before he leaves 
 for St. Petersburg. If I take the express to-night, I am 
 safe to catch him at Berlin. I shall be able to get to see 
 
 him through Z , of our embassy there. He is not a 
 
 bad fellow, and though my father made a mess between 
 him and me, I don't believe he is as savage against me 
 as they made out. Anyhow, there is nothing else to be 
 done. I will drive now to Sibyl's, and tell her I am 
 off." He pulled out his watch. "It is five o'clock. 
 I have a couple of hours to do a few things and eat 
 a mouthful before I start." 
 
 "I will go out with you," said Ivan; "I must see 
 Schenk if he be in town; 1 must find out something 
 about this devilish business." 
 
 The two friends went down-stairs together ; then they 
 parted. Basil hailed a cab, and drove to the Rue St. 
 Dominique. 
 
 Sibyl was out. She had left home three hours ago, 
 the servant said, so "was likely to be soon back. But 
 Basil could not wait. He went into the library, and
 
 Narka. 313 
 
 wrote a uote to M. de Beaucrillou, telliug him of liis de- 
 parture for Berlin, and the motive of it. 
 
 Sibyl, meantime, had gone to make a call at the Rus- 
 sian embassy. She had not carried out her intention 
 of appealing to Marie Krinsky on behalf of Narka. 
 Both Basil and M. de Beaucrillon were of opinion that 
 it was better to make sure, in the first instance, whether 
 the interference of the Prince was necessary. But she 
 had her own scheme to forward, and a visit to Princess 
 Krinsky was likely to do this. She learned to her dis- 
 appointment that the Prince had left the night before 
 for Berlin, and the ladies for Fontainebleau that morn- 
 ing. 
 
 As she drove in under her own gateway, M. de Beau- 
 crillon's brougham was moving away from before the 
 steps of the house. He met her in the hall with two 
 letters in his hand. One was Basil's, the other was from 
 Marguerite. 
 
 "Come in here a moment," he said, and they went 
 into the library. "Here is a slate on our heads!" he 
 exclaimed. "Basil is off to Berlin after Krinsky, and 
 Marguerite tells me the trial comes on on Monday. 
 'It may be all over before Basil will have seen Krinsky. 
 Though, for the matter of that, we don't know yet 
 whether Krinsky can be of any use." 
 
 Sibyl took the two notes from his hand without speak- 
 ing. There is an electric, instantaneous comprehension 
 that comes to the brain in moments of supreme excite- 
 ment, and enables it to seize all the points of a ques- 
 tion and arrive at a conclusion without any process of 
 argument. Such a moment had come to Sibyl now. 
 With one glance she saw the whole situation, the cir- 
 cumstances, the possibilities. Basil's absence at this 
 crisis was providential. Tlie trial would be over, per-
 
 314 Narha. 
 
 liaps, befoi'e lie lieard it had begun, and there was an 
 end of tlie terror which had haunted her of his appear- 
 ing in court and publicly compromising himself from 
 a sense of chivalrous loyalty to Narka. 
 
 "I must see at once about getting counsel," said M. 
 de Beaucrillon, too selflessly absorbed in Narka's trou- 
 ble and the impending crisis to stop to consider the 
 motive of his wife's silence. " There is no time to lose. 
 
 I will go at once to Maitre X , If I am late for 
 
 dinner, don't wait for me."
 
 Narka. 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 It was not often that so gi'eat a ti'eat as this trial 
 of Narka's was provided for the sensation-loving Pa- 
 risian public. Amongst the numbers who crushed in 
 to assist at it there was not one who remembered a trial 
 which contained sucli original and dramatic elements. 
 The prisoner was a young girl of rare beauty and brill- 
 iant gifts, and among the witnesses were to figure a 
 grande dame and a Sister of Charity. The judge and 
 counsel had been besieged with applications for ten 
 times more places than the court contained, and when 
 the day came the crowd even outside was so great that 
 the police had much to do to facilitate the entrance of 
 those who had tickets. 
 
 The court was densely filled long befoi'e the entrance 
 of the judge, but curiosity reached its climax when the 
 door opposite the judgment-seat opened, and the prison- 
 er, walking between two gendarmes, was led to the bar. 
 
 Narka had been so exhausted and strained by tlie 
 week's imprisonment that on the eve it had seemed 
 to her impossible she could go through the ordeal of 
 this trial ; but when the morrow came, and with it the 
 challenge for immediate effox't, her splendid young vital- 
 ity asserted itself, and her high courage rose to the occa- 
 sion. She was luminously pale, but there was no lack 
 of fire in her eyes, and no trace of weakness in her beai^- 
 ing, as she stood at the bar. A murmur, partly of ad- 
 miration, partly of curiosity, rose from every part of 
 the audience; but this quickly subsided, and profound 
 silence reigned in the court.
 
 316 NarTca. 
 
 The case against the prisoner was briefly stated : from 
 the time of her arrival in Paris she had consorted with 
 conspirators of various nationalities, and attended rev- 
 olutionary meetings where plots were hatched against 
 the governments and the lives of kings; she had gone 
 to live in a district where disaffection was rampant ; she 
 had I'eceived treasonable documents, and sheltered ring- 
 leaders of the recent emeute and notoriously bad char- 
 acters, etc. 
 
 The first witness called up was Olga Borzidoff, She 
 swore that the prisoner had to her knowledge habitually 
 frequented revolutionary meetings, and that on the 10th 
 instant she had been present at one where a scheme for 
 the assassination of the Emperor of the French had been 
 arranged, and the prisoner was chosen by lots to give 
 the signal for throwing the bomb-shell into his carriage. 
 The witness had been so horrified by the proceedings 
 and plans discussed at this meeting that she had gone 
 immediately and given warning to the police; she had 
 hei'self assisted at former meetings of the sort, ignorant 
 of their sinister character ; but her eyes had been opened 
 on this occasion, and her conscience awakened. Olga 
 Borzidoff deposed in a spirit of vindictive personal 
 rancor which greatly damaged the weight of her evi- 
 dence, and at last she became so violent and aggressive 
 that the judge was obliged to call her to order. 
 
 Madame Blaquette was next called up, and came on 
 whining and whimpering, and conveying her distress 
 to Narka by glances and gesticulations. She gave her 
 evidence incoherently, contradicting herself at every 
 sentence; she had been beguiled and deceived, she said, 
 by a beggar-woman toward whom she had exercised be- 
 nevolence to the utmost extent of her means, having 
 on one occasion given the last j)enny she possessed to
 
 JSFarJca. 317 
 
 relieve her wants ; the woman's ingratitude was a bitter 
 drop in the cup of her manifold disappointments. The 
 landlady was wandering on to explain the nature of 
 these disappointments, when the judge cut her short, 
 and after a series of direct questions discharged her. 
 Her evidence had neither served nor hurt Narka. 
 
 Several other witnesses, friends of Olga Borzidoff , were 
 heard, and these swore to the prisoner's presence at the 
 meeting on the 10th. This testimony was, so far, the 
 only substantial charge against her. Then the counsel 
 for the crown made his charge, and the witnesses for the 
 defence followed. 
 
 The first called was the Comtesse de Beaucrillon. 
 Sibyl was one of those persons whose charm never de- 
 serts them under any circumstances. As she advanced 
 now to the witness box, leaning on her husband's arm, 
 she looked just as chai'ming, just as much at her ease, 
 as if she had been taking part in a court ceremonial, 
 or dispensing cups of tea in her boudoir. She sat down 
 with that languishing grace which always suggested a 
 nymph sinking into the water, and then drew off her 
 gloves and pulled out her Lilliputian handkei'chief , scat- 
 tering a scent of violets that perfumed the heavy air 
 deliciously around her. 
 
 After the preliminary formula of questions, the judge 
 said, "How long have you known the prisoner ?" 
 
 "All my life, monsieur. We were brought up to- 
 gether; we studied together; we were like sisters." 
 
 ' ' The prisoner is charged with having become ac- 
 quainted with revolutionists, and been cognizant of 
 plots against the life of the Emperor of Russia, even 
 while under the roof of Princess Zorokoff." 
 
 "Ah ! Monsieur le President, such charges are wicked 
 slanders. My sister Narka was too pure and good to
 
 318 Narka. 
 
 associate with any but those who were pure and good 
 like herself." 
 
 There was an indescribable charm in the way Sibyl 
 said "my sister Narka," in her softly agitated voice. 
 
 " Madame," continued the judge, "the court cannot 
 accept sentimental evidence, however convincing it may 
 be. Can you assert upon your oath that to your know- 
 ledge the prisoner never associated, was never in com- 
 munication, while in Russia, with any persons disaffec- 
 ted toward the imperial government ?" 
 
 Sibyl seemed too horrified to answer. With a mar- 
 vellous play of feature she looked up at her husband, 
 and clasping her hands nervously, looked back at the 
 judge. "Am / suspected of being disaffected to the 
 Emperor's government?" Nothing could have been 
 more pei-fect than the little bit of comedy ; her face and 
 her hands expressed amazement, amusement, and wound- 
 ed loyalty all at once, and the pantomime told more 
 effectively in Narka's behalf than if she had solemnly 
 sworn to belief in her innocence. 
 
 " You, madame, are absolutely above suspicion," pro- 
 tested the judge, feeling that he had made a mistake in 
 rousing the sympathies of the public on the side of this 
 sensitive, high-bred lady by inferentially accusing her 
 of a vulgar crime. 
 
 Sibyl saw her advantage, and immediately the great 
 crystal di*ops welled up into her light blue eyes and 
 trembled there, and then rolled off her curled lashes. 
 She was one of those dangerous, uot-to-be-trusted women 
 to whom tears ai*e becoming, and she knew it. "I beg 
 your pardon, M. le President," she said, her voice quiver- 
 ing with repressed emotion; "but if you have ever had 
 a sister whom you loved and trusted with your whole 
 heart, you will understand that I cannot listen unmoved
 
 Narka. 319 
 
 to such hoi'rible insinuations against mine." Overcome 
 by her feelings, she covered her face and sobbed gently. 
 
 A hum of admiration and respect made itself heard in 
 the court. 
 
 Sibyl, after struggling for a moment with her emotion, 
 lifted her head with the air of one nerving herself for 
 courageous effort, but the judge, obeying the murmured 
 desire of the court, said, "The witness may retire." 
 
 " Let Soeur Marguerite be heard." 
 
 No more striking contrast could have been found than 
 that which this witness presented to the last. Instead 
 of the blonde elegante, trailing her silken skirts with 
 undulating grace, scattering the scent of violets around, 
 and playing on the court with her wales, her sudden 
 tears, her harmonies and blandishments, there appeared 
 at the bar a small, well-shaped young woman clothed 
 in a gray woollen gown and a broad white head-gear, 
 from under which there looked out a youthful face with 
 irregular features, a nose full of character, imperceptibly 
 retrousse, and a pair of wistful brown eyes alight with 
 courage, simplicity, and truth. The shapely hands, 
 roughened with work and the weather, were slipped 
 into her wide sleeves, and Marguerite in the witness box 
 looked like a diligent little scliolar who came up for 
 examination, primed and loaded, afraid of nothing except 
 of being confused into a wrong answer from nervousness. 
 
 " Wliat is your name ?" asked the judge. 
 
 " Soeur Marguerite, M. le Juge." 
 
 "Say M. le President," corrected some one in a sotto 
 voce. 
 
 "Pardon ! M. le President," she repeated, with a blush. 
 
 The usual interrogations followed, and then the judge 
 said, "Why did the prisoner go to live at La Villette ?" 
 
 "Because it is cheap, M. le President."
 
 320 JVarka. 
 
 "How did she spend her time there — do you know ?" 
 
 "She gave lessons, M. le President; and she went 
 about with me visiting the sick poor. She is a capital 
 sick-nurse." 
 
 "Did she not keep low company ?" 
 
 "She kept company with me, M. le President." 
 
 "You know what I mean, ma soeur; she associated 
 with the bad characters of the place ?" 
 
 " So do I and my sisters, M. le President." 
 
 "Vive Sceur Marguerite!" shouted a voice, and the 
 cry was taken up in chorus at the end of the hall, where 
 La Villette was largely represented. The judge turned 
 round angi'ily ; but before he could speak, Marguerite 
 drew her hand from her sleeve and made a little down- 
 ward gesture, as if she were slapping a naughty child. 
 "Hush, will you!" she cried; "do you want to get me 
 into trouble ?" 
 
 This irregular proceeding had the desired effect; so 
 the judge overlooked it, and w^ent on. 
 
 "You are acquainted with a man named Antoine 
 Drex ?" 
 
 "Yes, M. le President; I have long been acquainted 
 with Antoine Drex." 
 
 "He bears a detestable character — a rioter, a drunk- 
 ard ; he was a notoriously bad husband ; he used to beat 
 his wife ?" 
 
 Marguerite put her head first a little to one side, then 
 a little to the other, like a meditative robin. ' ' Well, 
 M. le President, he was not a model husbaud ; but his 
 Avife was very aggravating; she had a tongue that was 
 going all day long, and she took to drink before he did. 
 Our sisters always pitied Antoine very much." 
 
 " What ! a wicked revolutionist who incited the people 
 to bloodshed ?"
 
 Narha. 321 
 
 "M. le President, he was not so bad as that; c'etait 
 un desespere, mais pas un revolte. That is the differ- 
 ence. When he was out of work and had no food, the 
 hunger went to his head. It is so with them all. But 
 he was not a bad fellow. He loved his mother, and 
 was always good to her; and he would often share his 
 crust with a hungry neighbor." 
 
 "So would any man who was not a brute." 
 
 " Ah ! M. le President, if that were true, there would 
 be no hneutes. It is hunger that sends the ouvrier 
 down into the street. He is not wicked ; he is bon en- 
 fant if you give him bread enough; but he goes mad 
 on an empty stomach, and that hunger-madness is the 
 worst of all." 
 
 There was a rumor in the court expressing horror and 
 assent. 
 
 "That is a subject that would carry us too far from 
 the point in question, ma soeur," said the judge: "the 
 question is, did the prisoner, knowing the character 
 Antoine Drex bears, associate with him, and connive 
 at his evil doings by hiding hini from the pursuit of the 
 law ?" 
 
 " M. le President, I cannot answer for the other peo- 
 ple who hid Antoine from the police ; but I don't deny 
 that we did. He came to us one morning and asked us 
 to shelter him, and we let him in, and he went away 
 without telling us." 
 
 "Yes, he went away to intercept the police, who had 
 just got possession of a box containing papers that would 
 have convicted the prisoner beyond any doubt. Ma 
 soeur, do you know what those papers were ?" 
 
 "No, I do not; I never saw them; and Mademoiselle 
 Larik never told me Vhat they were." 
 
 "You know that she held revolutionary doctrines, 
 21
 
 322 Narka. 
 
 and connived at, if she did not participate in, the crime 
 of regicide ?" 
 
 "I know nothing of the sort, and I don't believe a 
 word of it." 
 
 "She frequented meetings where such plots were dis- 
 cussed ?" 
 
 "If she did, it must have been as the prophet Daniel 
 frequented the lions' den : she was taken there by force 
 or by fraud. But I don't believe she was ever present 
 at such a meeting." 
 
 ' ' There are witnesses to swear that she was present at 
 one where she was designated as an accomplice in an 
 attempt on the life of the Emperor." 
 
 "M. le President, if a court full of witnesses swore to 
 that, I would not believe them." 
 
 "But if they proved it, ma soeur?" 
 
 "Above all, if they proved it! What a pitiful sort 
 of faith that is that could be invalidated by proofs !" 
 
 There was a laugh in the court. The judge peered 
 over his spectacles at the witness, as if debating whether 
 to join, at least tacitly, in the viouvement d'hilarite, 
 or call her to order for disi'espect to the solemnity 
 of justice. His human sympathies and his sense of 
 humor prevailed. 
 
 "Ma soeui'," he said, and his sharp eyes twinkled un- 
 judiciously as they peered at her through his glasses, 
 "your doctrine concerning faith and testimony differs 
 in toto from that of the court. There are witnesses to 
 prove that on the 10th inst. the prisoner was present 
 at the meeting in question, and that evidence makes 
 fatally against her, unless you can bring forward wit- 
 nesses to swear that she was in some other place that 
 day while the meeting was going on." 
 
 Marguerite's face lighted up with a triumphant ex-
 
 Narha. 323 
 
 pression. "On the 10th?" she said. "At what hour 
 was the meeting-, II. le President ?" 
 
 " From one in the afternoon to past three." 
 
 ' ' Then I can swear, and bring othei's to swear, that 
 she was not present at it. She was with me, visiting a 
 sick child." 
 
 There was a sudden excitement in the court at this. 
 
 "You are sure of that, ma soeur ?" 
 
 " I am perfectly sure of it." 
 
 "And you say there were others present ?" 
 
 Marguerite hesitated a moment: Antoine Drex and 
 his old mother were not imposing witnesses to bring 
 forward. 
 
 ' ' There was a crowd outside who saw us both come 
 out of the house where Mademoiselle Larik had been 
 singing to the child. I can easily find out some of the 
 people who were there." Marguerite was conscious of 
 a certain collapse in the strength of her testimony when 
 it came to producing it; but the court was with her, 
 and she felt it. Her own word, her oath, would weigh 
 with them and with the jury more than a score of the 
 most creditable witnesses that could be brought forward, 
 and the timid humility which seemed to make her for- 
 get this, and lose sight of her own value altogether, 
 only made her more admirable and sympathetic. A 
 I'are and winning advocate she was in her weakness 
 and her courage, her pathos and her humor, clothed in 
 the garb of that voluntary poverty which in its heroic 
 renunciations represents the most persuasive power on 
 earth. 
 
 ' ' And you can swear yourself that you were with her 
 on the 10th at the hour named?" said the judge. 
 
 "I can swear it. She came down to the House just 
 after our dinner, and she staid with me till I went out,
 
 324 Narha. 
 
 and then came with me to Antoine Dx'ex's room, where 
 she sang a little sick child to sleep." 
 
 There was a loud murmur from every part of the 
 court ; it rose almost to a cheer. Narka's eyes were fixed 
 on Marguerite as if she could not look away; the half- 
 fierceness had melted out of her face, and in spite of 
 her immobility those dark eyes, burning under her level 
 brows, betrayed the relenting emotion that was inva- 
 ding and disarming her. 
 
 The judge was going to speak, when a movement at 
 the door arrested his attention. A messenger full of 
 haste frayed his way to the judgment-seat, and a short 
 parley followed between him and the judge. 
 
 Marguerite had i-ecognized the commissary of police 
 from La Villette. She was alarmed, but not much sur- 
 prised, when, turning from the judge, he came straight 
 up to her. The curiosity of the audience was greatly 
 excited, and it was not allayed when the commissary, 
 having made some communication to Marguerite, which 
 she received with evident horror and amazement, hurried 
 away with her from the court. 
 
 And now it was Narka's turn. It had seemed to her 
 before entering the court that no chance of escape or 
 acquittal remained to her, and in crossing the threshold 
 of the judgment-hall she had left all hope outside ; but 
 as the trial went on, and nothing transpired to in- 
 criminate Basil, and as one witness after another failed 
 to substantiate any charge against herself, her spirits 
 rose; she began to hope, and regained courage. The 
 only serious point made against her was by Olga Borzi- 
 doff, who had sworn to her presence at the meeting 
 on the 10th, and to her having been designated there 
 to give the signal for throwing the bomb-shell; but this 
 false testimony had been wholly refuted by Marguerite,
 
 KarJca. 325 
 
 ■wlio liad evidently carried the court along with her, and 
 turned the current of justice and of public sentiment 
 strongly in favor of the prisoner. When, therefoi'e, 
 Narka stood up to be examined, she felt ready to undergo 
 the dreaded interrogatory with more self-possession than 
 an hour ago she could have believed possible. 
 
 When it came to the question of her having been 
 with Soeur Marguei'ite at the time she was accused by 
 the woman Borzidoff of being at the meeting, the judge 
 said, "Can you remember any circumstance which 
 would help to prove that alibi ?" 
 
 "I can, M. le President," Narka answered, in her 
 clear, metallic tones. "I had lost my voice for more 
 than a month, and that day, when I was with Soeur Mar- 
 guerite, it suddenly returned. It was very unexpected, 
 and I was greatly excited by it; so was Soeur Mai'gue- 
 rite." 
 
 "Can you call any witness to prove that you had 
 lost your voice before that day ?" 
 
 "Yes; M. le Docteur X could certify to the fact. 
 
 He gave me a consultation not long before. I do not 
 recall the date, but he probably could." 
 
 The judge was going to put another question, when 
 a note was passed up to him. He read it, and recog- 
 nized the signatui-e as that of a detective well known 
 to the authorities, and highly esteemed for his honesty 
 and skill. 
 
 "You may sit down," the judge said to Narka. Then 
 he added, "Let Jean Godart come forward." And a 
 middle-aged man, dressed like a well-to-do workman, 
 stepped into the witness box. 
 
 Narka's heart began to beat again with terror. Was 
 this a clever false witness come to spring a mine under 
 her feet?
 
 326 Narha. 
 
 The witness having stated his name and surname, 
 and his trade of cabinet-maker, the judge said: 
 
 ' ' You were present that afternoon when the prisoner 
 sang in the room occupied by Antoine Drex and his 
 mother ?" 
 
 "M. le President, I was amongst the crowd under 
 the window, and I waited to see the singer come out, I 
 wanted badly to see her. I did not see her face well, 
 for she wore a veil, and a hat that came down over her 
 forehead; but I noticed her figui'e." 
 
 "Was the prisoner alone ?" 
 
 ' ' No ; she was with Soeur Marguerite. It was Soeur 
 Marguerite who told us she had been singing to the sick 
 child." 
 
 " Why did you want so badly to see the prisoner ?" 
 
 "Because of her voice: it was the most wonderful 
 voice I ever heard. I am fond of a good song. It is 
 my "petit vice. I spend many a franc on a ticket up 
 with the gods when a great singer comes to Paris. I 
 have heard the best of them these twenty years past, but 
 I never heard anything like the voice of the person who 
 sang that day in the Cour des Chats." 
 
 "What was it like ? Describe it to the court." 
 
 The witness shook his head. "It would be a difficult 
 thing to describe," he said, with a humorous smile; 
 "but if these gentlemen," looking up at the jury, "can 
 fancy a score of nightingales in a woman's throat, with 
 old cognac and oil poured out all together, they will 
 have some idea of the effect." 
 
 The jury were amused, and the public laughed. 
 
 " You would know the voice if you heard it again ?" 
 
 "Parbleu! If I would know it! It made the blood 
 run warm in my veins. I would know it amongst a 
 thousand."
 
 Narha. 327 
 
 "You remember what the song was ?" 
 
 " The first was— " 
 
 "Stop!" interrupted the judge, quickly. "Wi'ite 
 down the name and send it up to me. " 
 
 While the witness proceeded to do as he was desired, 
 a movement rose and spread in the court. It was arrest- 
 ed immediately when the judge, after reading the paper 
 handed up from the witness, said to the prisoner, 
 
 ' ' Can you tell the court what you sang that day ?" 
 
 "I sang first a Russian ballad, and then ' Mignon's 
 Lament.'" Narka's countenance, for all her self-con- 
 trol, showed plainly with what intense anxiety she was 
 waiting to hear whether the testimony of the detective 
 would coi-roborate this answer. The court too was hush- 
 ed in breathless expectation. 
 
 " The witness," said the judge, " has written, ' A song 
 in a language I did not undei'stand, and then a song in 
 French that ended, at every verse, Laissez-moi mourir.-'''' 
 
 A perfect shout of exultation rose from every part of 
 the hall. Narka flushed crimson, and then grew very 
 white ; she was agitated almost beyond the power of self- 
 control. 
 
 The prisoner's counsel now followed with his plea, 
 and then the jury retired to consider the verdict. 
 
 They returned in ten minutes with a verdict of ac- 
 quittal.
 
 328 Karka. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Ivan Gorff had deemed it more prudent, both for 
 Narka and for himself, not to be present at the trial, 
 where there was sure to be a large contingent of Russian 
 spies as well as French detectives. But when the day 
 of tlie trial came he found it hard to keep away. The 
 suspense and anxiety were almost unbearable. It was 
 not possible to stay quietly in-doors, so he went out and 
 walked about the streets like a troubled spirit, going 
 from one haunt to another, as if something unexpected 
 might turn up to help Narka, or throw light on the 
 unknown authors of her arrest. The more he thought 
 of it, the stronger grew his fear that Schenk had be- 
 trayed her. The idea, which had at first been repulsed 
 as a groundless suspicion, took shape when he found 
 that Schenk had left town the day before the arrest ; and 
 then, as the days went by, and he neither came nor 
 wrote, suspicion grew and hardened into conviction. 
 Ivan had quickly detected the German's passion for Nar- 
 ka, and shi'ewdly suspected that Schenk had declared it, 
 and if so, he had of course been scornfully rejected. 
 As Ivan paced the streets he pictured to himself the 
 scene : Narka startled into indignant surprise, answering 
 him with two flashes of lightning from her dark eyes, 
 and Schenk, goaded out of his cold-blooded sleekness, 
 pressing his suit ; then perhaps threatening — for she was 
 in his power to an extent. Ivan's blue eyes scintillated 
 with inextinguishable laughter as he clinched his hands, 
 swinging heavily by his side, and tramped on. Partly 
 drawn by these cogitations, and partly obeying the blind
 
 ITarha. 329 
 
 impulse that prompted him to pursue his aimless march, 
 he walked on to La Villette and to Narka's house. The 
 place looked just as if nothing had happened; she might 
 have been sitting inside at her work; the door on the 
 street stood open as usual. Ivan stepped in. It- was 
 dark in the narrow entry after the brilliant sunshine, 
 but there was light enough for him to see a man stand- 
 ing at the door of the landlady's rooms, opposite to Nar- 
 ka's, as if waiting to be let in. Ivan at a glance recog- 
 nized Schenk. 
 
 The two were equally surprised to meet. 
 
 "Oh, it is you!" said Schenk, coming forward, and 
 he held out his hand. 
 
 Ivan fell back a step. " How much money did they 
 give you for it ?" he said, hissing out the woi'ds between 
 his teeth. 
 
 "What do you mean ?" demanded Schenk. 
 
 "You know what I mean. How much did they give 
 you for selling Narka Larik to the police here ?" 
 
 " Look here," said Schenk, and he came a step nearer, 
 fixing his green eyes on Ivan's, that were blazing like 
 a tiger's; " take back that lie, or I'll knock it down your 
 throat!'' 
 
 Ivan clinched his hand, and hit out at him; but 
 Schenk, stepping aside in time, avoided the blow, and 
 Ivan struck the wall with his might, breaking his 
 knuckles with the violence of the collision. The pain 
 blinded and maddened him for a moment, and before he 
 had recovered his senses Schenk drew his cane-sword 
 and ran him through the body. Ivan staggered, and 
 then fell heavily to the ground. 
 
 Schenk knelt down, Aviped his blade carefully in his 
 victim's coat, slipped it back into the cane, and walked 
 away.
 
 330 Karka. 
 
 Nobody passed through the entry for nearly an hour. 
 Then a lace-mender who lived on the fifth story came 
 down, and hurrying out, knocked lier foot against the 
 prostrate body. Her scream brought in a woman who 
 was passing. 
 
 "A man murdered !" exclaimed the two, peering down 
 at the white face, and then at the pools of blood around. 
 
 In five minutes a crowd had collected ; in five more 
 the commissary of police was there, taking down the 
 proces-verhal. Before he had finished, the doctor ar- 
 rived. 
 
 "Life is not extinct," said the medical man, after put- 
 ting his ear to Ivan's heart. " Is there a room where he 
 could be taken, close by, here on the ground-floor ?" 
 
 Some one ran to the concierge and got the key of Nar- 
 ka's door, and Ivan was lifted in and laid upon the 
 bed. Then restoratives were quickly applied and the 
 wound was attended to. Gradually consciousness re- 
 turned. Ivan carried his blank gaze round the room, 
 and began to realize where he was. "Have they con- 
 demned her ?" he asked, in a faint voice. 
 
 "Ah! it was, then, a woman ?" said the commissary, 
 and out came his pencil to add this point to the proces- 
 verhal. ' ' Do you know her ? Could you identify her ?" 
 Then, as Ivan only stared at him vacantly, "The wo- 
 man who stabbed you," he explained. "Try and re- 
 member. We found you lying in the entry badly 
 wounded. Do you know who stabbed you ?" 
 
 But the wounded man turned his head away and 
 moaned impatiently. At a sign from the doctor the 
 commissary collapsed. 
 
 " He is too weak ; he has lost a deal of blood. I must 
 go down to the sisters and get some one to come up and 
 attend to him," said the medical man.
 
 JVarka. 331 
 
 "Soeur Marguerite," Ivan said, with an effort; "tell 
 Sceur Marguerite to come to me." 
 
 Everybody at La Villette knew that Soeur Margue- 
 rite was away at the trial. 
 
 "I will ask for Soeur Marguerite," replied the doctor; 
 "but she may not be in the way; I must take whoever 
 is." 
 
 "No, no; Soeur Marguerite," Ivan insisted. "If she 
 is still in the court, send and say I want to see her; I 
 have something to say, and there is no time to lose. Be 
 quick!" 
 
 The commissary, guessing that the something was 
 connected with this attempt on his life, hurried out and 
 called a cab, and drove to the court, where, as we know, 
 he found Marguerite, and took her back with him. The 
 errand had been done with great haste, but Ivan's fe- 
 vei'ish impatience had found the time never-ending. 
 
 "Ah ! you are come — thank God !" he exclaimed, the 
 moment she appeared. "Get a pencil, and wi*ite what 
 I am going to tell you." 
 
 ' ' But you are too weak ; I had better wait, " she urged, 
 gently. 
 
 "No, no ; there is no time. I have strength enough, 
 if only there be time. Write." 
 
 Mai'guerite drew her big pocket-book from her sleeve, 
 and held her pencil ready. 
 
 "You remember that All-souls Eve at Yrakow?" 
 Ivan began. "My sister Sophie was coming through 
 the wood in the afternoon. She met Larchoff. He 
 stopped her, and — " A spasm passed over Ivan's face; 
 he struggled for a moment with some violent pain or 
 emotion, and having mastered it, went on : " She es- 
 caped from him I saw her flying across the road 
 
 toward our gate; she was half mad .... I went straight
 
 332 Narha. 
 
 into the sacristy, and took Father Christopher's gun .... 
 I knew where he kept it, and I knew it was loaded .... I 
 hurried back to the forest, and overtook Larchoff, and 
 shot him." 
 
 Marguerite uttered a cry, and dropped the pencil ; she 
 picked it up, and Ivan continued : 
 
 " As God hears me, my first thought was for Sophie. 
 I wanted to screen her; if it was known I had killed 
 Larchoff, it -would have led to suspicion .... After I 
 fired the shot, Father Christopher passed; he was hurry- 
 ing through the wood to get back to the confessional ; I 
 thought he might have seen me, and if he had, I knew he 
 would suspect me. I went on to the sacristy, and put 
 back the gun where I had found it. And then — oh, my 
 God, how shall I tell it !— then I went into the chapel, 
 and knelt down in the confessional and confessed the 
 murder. Then I was safe. I knew that this sealed 
 his lips — that he must let himself be put to death rather 
 than utter a word that might incriminate me, and betray 
 the secret of the confessional .... The next day I went 
 into X and denounced him as the murderer." 
 
 Marguerite could bear no more ; she burst into tears, 
 overcome with horror and compassion. 
 
 "Ah! I have suffered for my crime!" Ivan went on; 
 "ay, the torments of the damned. ... It so chanced — 
 God in His judgment so decreed — that I was passing 
 when the police were carrying him away .... I saw him 
 driven on between the two policemen. Oh, my God ! 
 my God! the look he gave me! ... it has haunted me 
 like a dead man's eye.... I felt sure at first that the 
 Prince would have obtained his release; when that fail- 
 ed, I did what I could .... I spent my whole fortune try- 
 ing to purchase his escape, to bribe the jailers, trying to 
 get alleviations for him. I have lived in ijoverty. . ..
 
 JVarka. 333 
 
 my life has been, a hell of remorse .... And now I am 
 dying accursed and unforgiven, murdered myself .... 
 It is just! it is just!" 
 
 Marguerite dropped on her knees, shaken to her soul 
 with pity for the miserable man who had sinned and 
 suffered so terribly. But her strong sense and habit of 
 self-restraint quickly brought her back to the practical 
 question of how to make this confession available for 
 Father Christopher. She had presence of mind enough 
 to remember that either it must be made verbally before 
 another witness, or Ivan must sign what she had written 
 in presence of a witness. 
 
 "Is it any good my confessing now?" said Ivan, as 
 if he guessed what was in her mind. "Will it help 
 to set Father Christopher free, do you think ? If it did, 
 if I knew that before I died, it would make hell less hoi'- 
 rible to me." 
 
 "I have not a doubt," replied Marguerite, "but that 
 as soon as your statement is known to the authorities, 
 they will liberate him at once; but you will have to 
 repeat the confession, or else sign it in the presence of 
 another person. May I send for the commissary ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; send for as many as will come. I will 
 swear before the whole world that I committed the mur- 
 der, and confessed it to Father Christopher." 
 
 Marguerite went out, intending to send for the com- 
 missary. She found him in the entry, surrounded by 
 the cure, the doctor, several police-officers, and others 
 who had been attracted by the news of the murder. She 
 told rapidly what had happened, and when the commis- 
 sary, accompanied by the cure and the doctor, came in. 
 Marguerite read aloud what she had written, and then 
 asked Ivan if it was correct, and if he would swear to the 
 truth of the story.
 
 334 Narka. 
 
 " Yes, I swear, as a dying man, that wliat you have 
 written is true. So help me God! Get me up that I 
 may sign it." 
 
 They lifted him, and put the pen in his hand, and he 
 wrote his name; tlie others then added their signatures. 
 The commissary was putting away the pen, when Ivan 
 made a sign that he wanted it again. They gave it to 
 him, and he clutched it fondly. It was Narka's pen. 
 He remembered seeing it on her little writing-table. 
 
 " What have they done to her?" he asked — "to Nar- 
 ka Larik; what is the sentence V 
 
 "She is acquitted on all points," replied the com- 
 missary, who had heard it from a police-officer just come 
 from the court. 
 
 " Thank God!" muttered Ivan, and his face brighten- 
 ed; then, changing suddenly, a look of hungry, wolfish 
 hate came over it. "Now let them catch Schenk," he 
 said. "It was Schenk's doing — it was Schenk that 
 stabbed me. I would die easy if I knew they would 
 hang him!" 
 
 He fell back exhausted on the pillow.
 
 Narka. 335 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 The verdict of acquittal was received with loud and 
 general applause, the Villette element making itself con- 
 spicuous in the chorus by yells of triumph, which might 
 have easily been mistaken for howls of rage. When M. 
 de Beaucrillon and Sibyl led Narka out of the court, half 
 fainting, she hardly knew where she was going, and al- 
 lowed herself to be assisted into the carriage without 
 asking where they were taking her. It was only when 
 she found herself before the steps of Sibyl's house 
 that she realized where she was. It was then too late 
 to protest, even if she had had strength to do it. 
 
 Sibyl took her upstairs, and put her to bed; she was 
 kind and tender as a sister; and Narka, worn out in 
 mind and body, submitted unresistingly to the soft min- 
 istrations. She was thankful to be at rest. She slept 
 through the night from sheer exhaustion. Sibyl would 
 have her lie in bed next morning; she foi-bade her to 
 get up till the afternoon, and gave orders that Mile. Nar- 
 ka was not to be disturbed, even if Soeur Marguerite 
 came. 
 
 Immediately after the second breakfast Sibyl went out 
 with Gaston. They wei'e both anxious to see Margue- 
 rite, and learn the cause of her mysterious summons 
 from court the day before. The moment they were 
 gone, Narka rose and dressed herself, and slipped down 
 to the boudoir. She could not lie quiet in bed, when 
 Basil might arrive at any moment and call for her. She 
 had not been long in the boudoir when a carriage drove
 
 336 JSfarka. 
 
 into the court. It might be Basil ! Narka started up 
 and went to the window. A coupe was drawn up before 
 the steps; the hall porter was parleying with some one 
 inside. Presently he opened the carriage door and as- 
 sisted a lady to alight. Narka recognized Marie Krin- 
 sky. The thought of meeting this girl, who loved Basil, 
 who had been her rival, would have been intolerable ; 
 but it did not occur to her that Marie was coming up- 
 stairs: she was, no doubt, going to wait in the drawing- 
 room, or perhaps to write a note in the library. It was 
 only when the sound of silk rustling on the landing be- 
 came audible that Narka knew the young Princess was 
 going to appear. She glanced round for a way of es- 
 cape. There was a panelled door that opened into a 
 tiny closet, a sort of debarras where the tea-table, etc., 
 were kept. There was just time to spring across the 
 room and open this door and draw it after her, without 
 daring to shut it, when Marie entered. 
 
 "You will find everything here, Princess," said the 
 servant, and soon the click of an opened inkstand, and 
 then the noise of a pen scratching the paper, announced 
 that Marie was writing. 
 
 The time seemed long to Narka, but in reality ten 
 minutes had not elapsed when Marie stai-ted up, ex- 
 claiming: "Soeur Marguerite! I am so glad! I was 
 writing a line for Madame de Beaucrillon. We only 
 returned fi*om Fontainebleau last night. You were at 
 the trial ; tell me about it. Was Narka Larik guilty ? 
 Did she conspire against the life of the Emperor ?" 
 
 Marguerite lifted her eyebrows. "Why, did you not 
 read the trial ? It is all in this morning's newspapers. 
 She was completely acquitted." 
 
 " Oh, I know that. M. de Beaucrillon is rich enough 
 to buy up the jury. And he was quite right to do it ;
 
 Narka. 337 
 
 but is she guilty ? Is she the dreadful woman they say ? 
 I so want to know the truth." She spoke earnestly, 
 nervously. 
 
 " Narka is no more guilty than I am," said Margue- 
 rite, with the warmth of conviction. "She is a noble 
 woman, and she has suffered cruelly." 
 
 "Ah! But now they say — Is it true, this story of 
 Prince Basil's being in love with her and wanting to 
 mari'y her V 
 
 "Yes, it is quite true." 
 
 Marie grew pale, and Marguerite saw that the woi'ds 
 had cut into her like a knife. Poor child! So she 
 was to be a victim, through no fault of her own. She 
 looked as if a touch would have overthrown her cour- 
 age ; but she struggled bravely, and kept up. 
 
 "I am glad she is good, since he is going to marry 
 her," she said; "it would have been dreadful for Ma- 
 dame de Beaucrillon ; and I should have been sorry for 
 her brother, who — " 
 
 Marie stopped short, blushed violently, and then grew 
 white, and an expression between terror and defiance 
 came into her eyes. Marguerite turned to see what had 
 wx'ought the sudden change, and saw a gentleman ad- 
 vancing quickly toward the open door of the boudoir; 
 he was unkempt and travel-stained, like one come off 
 a journey ; but Marguerite recognized Basil at a glance. 
 He went straight up to her, and took her hand and raised 
 it to his lips ; he did not say a word, but his face, his 
 whole manner, were eloquent with feeling. Suddenly, 
 as if he had not noticed the presence of the young Prin- 
 cess, he made her a low bow. Marie took up her parasol. 
 
 " I am not sending you away, I hope, Princess," said 
 Basil. 
 
 " No; I was going." She shook hands with Margue- 
 2a
 
 338 Narka. 
 
 rite, and then, looking Basil steadily in the face, ' ' I am 
 glad to be one of the first to congratulate you on your 
 approaching marriage. Prince," she said. He read in- 
 solent contempt in her glance ; but it was the defiance of 
 desperation. 
 
 "Thank you, Princess," he replied, and held back 
 the portiere with an ostentatious pretence of making 
 wider room for her exit. 
 
 The girl's retreating footsteps made no sound on the 
 soft carpet, and Narka did not know she had left the 
 room when Basil spoke : 
 
 " Sibyl is out ?" 
 
 "Yes; I believe she is gone to La Villette," Margue- 
 rite replied, and she laid on the table a parcel that she 
 took out of a basket on her arm. There was nothing 
 so far to inform Narka that Marie was not still present. 
 Marguerite looked tired, and Basil thought agitated ; she 
 sat down and with a certain hesitation in her manner, 
 "A dreadful thing has happened," she said; "Ivan 
 Gorff was stabbed yesterday during the trial." 
 
 ' ' Good God ! Ivan ! By whom ?" 
 
 *'By a man named Schenk." 
 
 ' ' Schenk !" Basil repeated, aghast. ' ' My God ! And 
 is Ivan dead V 
 
 " He is dying. He sent for me to make a confession 
 — a terrible confession." Narka held her breath, while 
 Marguerite paused, as if the words were hard to speak. 
 Then, almost in a whisper, ''It was Ivan who murdered 
 Larchoffr 
 
 Basil's vehement exclamation covered another sound 
 that came at the same moment from the wall behind 
 him. He dropped into a chair, too stunned to utter a 
 word. Narka felt sure they were alone now; but she 
 also was too stunned to speak or move ; her heart gave
 
 JSfarka. 339 
 
 a great leap, and then sank; she felt sick and faint, but 
 she remained motionless, rooted to the grolind. 
 
 " Marguerite," Basil said, " if you knew what this rev- 
 elation is to me !" 
 
 "I do know," she answered, in a low voice, and her 
 lids fell. 
 
 Basil stood up. ' ' You suspected me of the murder ?" 
 " I thought you had done it accidentally," 
 * ' And you kept my secret ! Marguei-ite ! — Mai'guerite !" 
 Before she could start up or prevent him, he had 
 fallen down befoi-e her, and was sobbing with his head 
 upon her knees. Marguerite was too frightened by the 
 suddenness of the action and by the violence of his 
 emotion to know what to do; but Basil mastered the 
 paroxysm quickly, and stood up, and then sat down be- 
 side her. 
 
 Narka had by this time regained her self-possession, 
 but she had no longer the courage to come out of her 
 hiding-place. She had first listened involuntarily to the 
 dialogue, and now she could not show herself ; it was too 
 late. She heard Basil sobbing, and she guessed, more by 
 instinct than by sound, that he had fallen down at Mar- 
 guerite's feet ; if her life had depended on it, she could 
 not have pushed open the door and looked at him there, 
 "Yes," he went on, after a moment's silence, "I 
 thought I had shot him ; but I was not certain. When 
 Father Christopher was arrested I knew it was too late to 
 accuse myself; the police had fastened the crime on him. 
 The only thing I could do was to go to St. Petersburg 
 and sue for his release. I came away, believing he was 
 to be set free the next day. Did Ivan tell you why he 
 murdered Larchoff ?" 
 
 "Yes; he confessed everything. It was a terrible 
 story." And she repeated it as Ivan had told it.
 
 340 Narka. 
 
 " My God ! how liorrible !" Basil rose and walked the 
 length of the- room ; then he sat down near Marguerite 
 again, and speaking deliberately, but like a man who was 
 constrained to give utterance to something that would 
 not be held back, " I too have a confession to make," he 
 said: "that murder changed my whole destiny — per- 
 haps, I had set my heart on making you my wife. 
 There was an end of that hope the moment I felt there 
 was blood upon my hands ; but I loved you as I have 
 never loved any other woman." 
 
 Both were too absorbed to notice the dull sound of 
 something falling heavily to the ground close by. 
 
 "Oh, Basil! and Narka?" Marguerite said, in a tone 
 of pained reproach. " You love Narka ?" 
 
 "Yes, I love Narka, and I will do my best to make 
 her happy. I will be a good husband to her; she shall 
 miss nothing; but my love for you was a unique thing 
 in my life." 
 
 The moment was too solemn, Basil himself was too 
 free from self-consciousness, for the strange avowal to 
 make Marguerite feel shy, to cause her any embarrass- 
 ment. It was a startling confession for her to listen 
 to; but it told her nothing she had not known before. 
 She knew perfectly well that night at Yrakow that the 
 course of her destiny was suddenly changed. It was 
 all like a dream. She looked back to the dream now, 
 and saw spread out befox'e her, like a landscape seen 
 in a looking-glass, the life that might have been a pan- 
 orama of golden days crowned with honors and de- 
 lights ; but the vision stirred no shadow of regret in her 
 heart, nor did it move her will to a momentary recoil 
 from the part that she had chosen. Far from it. She 
 rejoiced that her present lot was beyond the reach of 
 change. With an almost involuntary movement she
 
 JVarka. 341 
 
 felt for her crucifix, and closed her hand upon it, silent- 
 ly renewing her self-consecration. 
 
 Basil too had been carried back to the past, but not 
 with the same glad assent in its renunciations. " My 
 God !" he cried, with a sudden burst of passionate feeling, 
 "it is as if a reprieve had suddenly come to me, after 
 being under sentence of condemnation all these years!'' 
 
 "Thank God!" Marguerite exclaimed, fervently. 
 " And now you will give up once and forever these wild 
 and wicked theories that have led you and Narka into 
 such trouble ? God has been very good to you, and you 
 owe Him a return. You have now an opportunity of 
 redeeming the past; you must begin from this out to 
 lead a noble and useful life; you must break off with 
 conspiracy and revolution, and work for your country 
 in wiser and better ways. Promise me that you will." 
 
 Basil fell back and thrust his hands into his pockets. 
 " If I had only myself to think of, " he said, after a pause ; 
 "but I have contracted engagements that it would not 
 be honorable to break ; it would be cowardly to abandon 
 those who are risking, and who will go on to the bitter 
 end risking, their lives for the sake of overthrowing 
 tyrants." 
 
 "That is just nonsense — rank nonsense!" protested 
 Marguerite, with her old impulsive manner. "They 
 will never overthrow anybody but themselves. I know 
 them well — a set of hot-headed fools and fanatics ! I see 
 them every day, and I hear the wild nonsense they talk. 
 But what is excusable in many of them is downright 
 criminal in you; and your example would give many 
 of them the courage and the excuse to give up the 
 whole thing — be sure of that. There are very few in 
 Russia, I dare say, as in France, who after a while do not 
 see the madness of the work they have embarked in, and
 
 342 JVarka. 
 
 who would not gladly get out of it if they could. Be- 
 sides, you are not worth so much to them; you will 
 never go far enough to do the work they want; you 
 think that talking and writing and stirring up passion- 
 ate desires for liberty is doing a grand thing; but they 
 want it to lead to action, that is, to assassination, to 
 wholesale murder. You will never lend your hand to 
 that; you will only go far enough to ruin yourself, with- 
 out satisfying them. Give it all up. Oh, Basil ! for 
 Heaven's sake give it up, and begin to lead an honor- 
 able, useful life. Narka will make it a happy life for 
 you. She will be as noble and loyal and loving a wife 
 as any man was ever blest with. Think, too, of ail 
 that she has suffered for your sake! All but death. 
 Yes, that time in the fortress was worse than death. 
 Make it up to her now, and guard her, at any rate in 
 the f utui'e, from those horrors that she has gone through 
 in the past. She was very near falling into the hands 
 of the torturers again. It was almost a miracle that 
 she escaped being given over to the Russian authorities. 
 A man whom we had helped in trouble waylaid the 
 policeman and rescued this," Marguerite continued, 
 taking the casket from the table. 
 
 "Do you know what is in it?'' Basil asked, as he 
 took it in his hand and tore off the paper that covered it. 
 
 " The papers you gave her to keep, and those revolu- 
 tionary articles of youi's that Ivan Gorff gave her to 
 translate." 
 
 "Good heavens!" Basil exclaimed, greatly excited. 
 The sight of that ivory box brought back his boyhood 
 to him; he remembered the morning he gave it to Narka 
 full of sweetmeats for her birthday; he kept turning 
 it round and examining it to conceal his emotion. "My 
 poor Narka!" he murmured.
 
 JVarka. 343 
 
 "You will make it all up to her now; promise me 
 you will ?" Marguerite pleaded. "You will give up con- 
 spiracy?" 
 
 Basil did not answer. He was moved to his centre, 
 but his will was torn in opposite directions — pity and 
 tenderness for Narka drew him one way ; what he called 
 honor drew him another. 
 
 "Basil," Marguerite said, and the blood mounted to 
 her cheek, and her voice trembled, "you say that you 
 cared for me once; for the sake of that old atfection, to 
 prove to me that it was something deeper and better 
 than a passing fancy, promise me what I ask you. I 
 ask it in the name of God, of your mother, of all that 
 you ever held sacred!" Her voice broke a little, and 
 her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 Still Basil hesitated, but it was only because he was 
 struggling with the emotion that choked him. "I 
 promise you," he answered. 
 
 After a pause Marguerite said, "Now all our prayer 
 must be that the reprieve may reach Father Christopher 
 in time." 
 
 She staid on a few minutes, asking questions about 
 the distance to Irkoutsk, calculating the chances and 
 perils that must be reckoned with on the way home- 
 ward. Then she rose to go. 
 
 " You won't wait to see Narka?" Basil said. 
 
 ' ' No ; she is perhaps asleep, or at any rate she is rest- 
 ing. You will tell her about Ivan ; his confession will 
 be an immense i-elief to her; but the rest will be a great 
 shock. She will be horrified too to hear about Schenk." 
 
 Basil accompanied Marguerite down-stairs. In the 
 hall he said: "I wonder would they let me see Ivan? 
 Could you get me into the prison ? I should like to see 
 him once."
 
 344 Narka. 
 
 " Oh yes, do go and see him; I am sure it will be a 
 consolation to the poor fellow. Go to-morrow morning 
 and ask for Soeur Jeanne ; or, stay, if you go there now 
 you will find her. Say that you have a message to her 
 from Soeur Marguerite, and the porter will let you in." 
 
 " I will go at once," said Basil ; "and by the time I get 
 back Nai'ka will probably be up, and able to see me." 
 He stood and watched Mai-guerite till she crossed the 
 court and disappeared. Then he went out and called a 
 cab, and drove to the prison. 
 
 As Marguerite walked rapidly homeward she felt 
 neai'er to perfect happiness than she had ever done be- 
 fore in her innocent, happy life. The windows of the 
 world seemed to have been suddenly thrown wide open, 
 and fresh air from heaven let in to blow about her 
 face. Her heart was so merry that she could have sung 
 for gladness. All the wrong things were coming right. 
 If only La Villette would cast out its heart of rage! 
 Marguerite kept her hand upon that angry heart as a 
 sick-nurse feels the pulse of a patient; le pauvre peuple 
 was her sick child ; she kept feeling its i)ulse, and the 
 quick irregular beats made her anxious; there was fever 
 still in the hot blood, the incoherent I'aviugs of delii-ium 
 were still audible in resentful mutterings. The demon 
 was not yet exorcised. Vengeance and hate possessed 
 the people, and desperate longings to set free the rioters 
 who were in prison, and wild, dark schemes to do it at 
 any cost of life to those who, not being with them, 
 were against them. 
 
 " If only I might die for them !" she murmured in her 
 heart, with a sinking of despair. But then she thouglit 
 of Father Christopher, and of Basil and Narka, and how 
 all the wrong things were coming right at last, and she 
 trusted and rejoiced.
 
 A^ar/ca, 345 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Narka lay motionless, crouching in a heap on the 
 ground, for some minutes after Basil and Marguerite had 
 left the room. At last the silence assured her that they 
 had gone. She rose to her knees and dragged herself 
 up, and opened the door cautiously ; there were the two 
 chairs that Marguerite and Basil had been sitting in; 
 they seemed to hold them still ; the atmosphere of the 
 place was suffocating. Narka felt she must get out of it 
 to breathe ; she made her way up to her own room, and 
 sat down and tried to think what had happened since 
 she had left it, only an hour ago. The whole world was 
 changed to her, and yet in reality those words of Basil's 
 which had flung her down as if stricken with paralysis 
 had told her nothing new ; she was conscious of having 
 known all along that in those early days at Yrakow he 
 had been in love with Marguerite, and on the night of 
 the murder Marguerite had betrayed the secret of her 
 love for him. But then had come the warrant and the 
 ransom, and his declaration to herself; and what waves 
 of passionate love and trust had swept over their lives 
 since then, obliterating the very trace of those early 
 jealousies and uncertainties ! 
 
 Narka was not so simple as to suppose that a man's 
 love was not to be trusted because the virgin vintage 
 of his heart had been thrown into the wine-press for 
 another woman's feet to tread. She would not have 
 felt a pang of jealousy or resentment if Basil had himself 
 confessed to her that he had loved Marguerite first ; but
 
 346 Narka. 
 
 that he should never have said a word to her, and should 
 now confess it to Marguerite — this stung her to the 
 quick, and struck at the root of all belief in his love. 
 
 " If he loved me," she repeated to herself, "he would 
 have been compelled by the very force of his love to tell 
 me ; he could not have kept it a secret. " 
 
 And she was right. For though we may sometimes 
 wholly trust where we do not love, we can never wholly 
 love where we do not trust. Basil, then, did not love 
 her; not as she understood love, not as a man should 
 love the woman he is going to marry. And if he did 
 not love her, should she keep him to his engagement? 
 Could she let him sacrifice himself to her from a sense 
 of honor, of pity, of gratitude? 
 
 Schenk was right : Basil had never loved her, 
 
 Narka intei'laced her fingers, and straightened up her 
 arms above her head in a gesture of intolerable anguish. 
 "I will give him up! — I will give him up!" she cried 
 aloud, almost in a shout, and then she flung herself upon 
 the sofa, and sobbed till it shook under her. When 
 the paroxysm had subsided she stood up, and began to 
 walk up and down the room. "If he were to confess 
 the truth to me even now, I would believe him," she 
 said, again speaking aloud to herself, and like a drown- 
 ing man catching at a straw in her despair ; " if he were 
 to come to me now and say: ' I loved Marguerite in the 
 old days before I learned to love you,' I could believe — " 
 But she suddenly checked herself. Had he not told 
 Marguerite that his love for her was a unique thing in 
 his life ? And then he had said that Narka should miss 
 nothing, that he would be a loyal and loving husband 
 to her, that he would pay back his debt as a man of 
 honor. Oh God ! was this the i*eturn she was to get for 
 her passionate love ! Could she take such pitiful pay-
 
 NarJca. 34V 
 
 ment of cold gratitude and duty in exchange for the 
 love that had been burning like a fire in her heart all 
 these years ? No ; it was intolerable. " I will give him 
 up !" she repeated, already with a stern quietness that be- 
 spoke a firmer will than her first violent outburst. 
 
 She sat down and tried to face the reality. She would 
 give him up; this much was certain; she was resolved 
 to give him up. And having made this tremendous de- 
 cision, it seemed as if the necessity for it grew suddenly 
 clearer. She saw distinctly, like something new that 
 she had never even glanced at before, what the conse- 
 quences would be to Basil and to herself if he married 
 her: he was going to make as complete a sacrifice as 
 a man could make for a woman ; he was going to quarrel 
 with his father ; to give him up ; to give up his whole 
 fortune and position; to give up Sibyl too, for though 
 she might feign to forgive the marriage, in her heart 
 she would never really forgive it; she would hate the 
 woman who had come between her and the brother of 
 whom she was so proud. And what had Narka to give 
 him in return for all this ? If he had loved her — ah, if 
 he had loved her! Narka knew with what supreme 
 abundance love can satisfy the lover, and make all sac- 
 rifices as nothing compared to the plenary bliss it can 
 bestow. But he did not love her. 
 
 "I will not marry him; I will not see him again," 
 she said; and her will took firmer hold of this deter- 
 mination, and it seemed to hai'den her heart and brace 
 it for the sacrifice. Then, instinctively, her thoughts 
 flew to Marguerite. There would be sympathy there 
 and understanding. "I will tell her the truth; I will 
 tell her everything," was Nai'ka's reflection. But when 
 she had told Marguerite, what was she to do ? Where 
 was she to go ? She must take up life again with its dif-
 
 348 NarJca. 
 
 faculties and its inexorable necessities; slie must go back 
 to loneliness, without any sustaining hope to make it en- 
 durable. Suddenly she remembered Zampa, and the 
 thought was like a flash of lightning showing her a way 
 out of the darkness. She would go to Zampa; she 
 would throw herself into the art she loved, and enter at 
 once on her career as a singer, and study with all her 
 might, and become a great artist. A thrill of relief, 
 almost of exultation, came with this resolution, and with 
 the consciousness that she had within her the power to 
 fashion her own destiny and conquer independence. 
 She need not be an object of pity to any one ; there was 
 something in this. Narka stood up again, and as she 
 did so there was a knock at the door. One of the maids, 
 of course. She said, " Come in." The door opened, and 
 it was Basil who entered. 
 
 He went quickly up to her and took her in his arms. 
 
 " My Narka !" he cried, straining her to him. 
 
 She sufi'ered his embrace without responding to it; 
 but Basil was too excited to notice this, and he felt that 
 she was trembling. 
 
 " I was here before," he said, "but you were I'esting. 
 How are you, dearest ? Let me look at you ? You are 
 tired and pale. No wonder." He kissed her forehead. 
 "Sit down beside me;" and he would have drawn her 
 to the couch, but Narka did not move. 
 
 "Tell me about Ivan," she said. "Have you seen 
 him ? Is he dead ?" 
 
 "No; he is still alive; but they don't think he will 
 pass the day." 
 
 Basil now became conscious of something strange 
 about her. It was natural that the horror of this 
 tragedy should have solemnized all things to them both, 
 that it should be uppermost in her thoughts, and have
 
 Narlca. 349 
 
 checked the overflow of her joy a little ; but there was 
 something beyond this in her manner. He tried again 
 to draw her to the couch, but her figure stiffened itself 
 against his arm, and she laid her hand upon his shoul- 
 der, as if gently putting him from her. 
 
 "What is the matter, Narka ? Are you not glad to 
 see me ?" he asked. 
 
 " I have something to say to you," she said, and her 
 great eyes looked steadily into his, and her voice did 
 not falter, " There is an end of our engagement. You 
 must leave me, and forget that you ever thought of mar- 
 rying me." 
 
 Basil drew away his arm, and looked at her in amaze. 
 " You are gone mad," he said. Then, in a softer tone: 
 "No wonder if you did, after all you have been going 
 through, my poor Narka. But what has put this folly 
 into your head?" 
 
 "It is no folly. The folly was when we thought 
 that our marriage could bring either of us anything but 
 suffering and regret. Yes. Let me speak out, Basil. 
 Listen to me. If you married me, you would lose every- 
 thing; you would be an exile all your life; your father 
 would never forgive you, nor Sibyl ; and Sibyl would 
 hate me ; and I could not live under that ; it would kill 
 me. I see it all now. We must part. You will marry 
 some one who will suit you and make you happy ; some 
 one in your own rank. Marie Krinsky loves you; 
 marry her, and give up playing at patriotism ; you are 
 not made for it. No, dear Basil, you are made to be 
 what you are, and nothing else. If you broke with your 
 kindred and your caste and married me, we should both 
 regret it. You would try to hide it from me, but I 
 should see it, and it would make me a miserable wo- 
 man."
 
 350 Narka. 
 
 She said all this rapidly, as if she were in a hurry to 
 get it all out before breaking down; but her voice did 
 not break, although it was nervous and vibrating, and 
 she was so white that Basil feared she was. going to 
 faint; but her eyes still met his without quailing. What 
 did it all mean ? What had she heard to drive her to 
 this extraoi'dinary resolution? His conscience smote 
 him; he remembered his words to Marguei'ite in the 
 boudoir; but they could not have come back to Narka. 
 
 "Sibyl has been talking to you," he said; "she has 
 persuaded you to this." 
 
 "No, she has not; I have not had a moment's conver- 
 sation with Sibyl since I have been in the house. She 
 has had nothing whatever to do with my determination." 
 
 "Then what in Heaven's name has come to you, Nar- 
 ka? Have you ceased to care for me? It was only 
 yesterday you swore to me you loved me as your life, 
 and now you coolly turn me away, and throw me off 
 without a word of explanation. I insist upon knowing 
 what it means." 
 
 "I have told you," she replied. "We have been 
 living in a fools' paradise. I was blind, and you were 
 mad. But there is an end of it. We must separate. 
 Don't be sorry for me, or afraid. I have courage ; I will 
 go my way safely." 
 
 "Good God! what are you talking about? What 
 way will you go if you do not come with me ?" 
 
 "I will go to Florence, and become a singer. My 
 voice is better than ever it was. I am able to face 
 the future without any fear." 
 
 She was still as white as marble. There was some- 
 thing marble-like about her altogether in the calm stone 
 coldness of her manner to him. It was unnatural, 
 incomprehensible, in so passionate a creature as Narka.
 
 Narka. 351 
 
 "You are talking mere nonsense, child," said Basil; 
 ' ' and besides, you forget that I have a claim on you that 
 is not to be set aside by any fanciful arguments or ca- 
 price of feeling: I am your debtor for fifty thousand 
 roubles." 
 
 ' ' Not quite. You sent me some of it by poor Ivan ; 
 but Sibyl has paid me the whole amount. It is there," 
 said Narka, pointing to the drawer of the writing-table. 
 "I found it when I came here from the court yester- 
 day." 
 
 "Sibyl had no right to meddle in it," he said, red- 
 dening with anger. He would rather have remained 
 Narka's debtor than become Sibyl's, and it seemed to 
 weaken his hold on Narka now that the debt should 
 have been paid; though, if she persisted in breaking 
 their engagement, it was better he should be free. 
 Would she pei'sist ? Basil said to himself that she would 
 not ; but there was something about Narka that said to 
 him, "She will." If anything had happened a month 
 ago to break ofiP his engagement honorably to himself, it 
 is doubtful whether he would have felt the blow a very 
 severe one; but coming from Nai'ka's hand, and dealt 
 at him in this cool, sudden way, it wounded him to the 
 quick, and fired his feeling toward her to a flame of pas- 
 sion. He Avould not give her up! He knew how she 
 loved him, and how she had suffered for him. This 
 act of hers was the result of some heroic fancy, or else 
 she had been stung to it by wounded pride. In spite 
 of her denial, he suspected Sibyl was at the bottom of it ; 
 but he would conquer her in spite of her own stubborn 
 pride, and Sibyl, and the whole world; but there was no 
 use in struggling any more with Narka now: opposition 
 would only nerve her to more determined resistance. 
 
 "Narka, you are very cruel to play with me in this
 
 352 Narha. 
 
 way," he said, "and I shall punish you for it some day. 
 But you are tired and nervous, and you want rest after 
 all this terrible strain on you. I wish you could go to 
 the country for a week. Perhaps if you went down 
 to Beaucrillon for a few days, it would do you good 
 and bring you to your right mind." 
 
 "Perhaps," she said, looking at him with a smile that 
 went to his heart's core : there was an expression in her 
 eyes that was indefinable. 
 
 Basil drew her to him, and held her to his breast, 
 kissing her with a passionate, hungry tenderness. "You 
 sha'n't fly from me," he murmured between the kisses; 
 "I would follow you to the end of the world if you 
 did. My love! my wife! my beautiful one!" 
 
 Narka let herself sink into the loved embrace. Now 
 for the first time she was tasting the caresses of a true 
 lover. Basil felt her clinging to him, and triumphed 
 in his power over her, and silently rejoiced. 
 
 A knock at the door made him start and release her. 
 
 "Monsieur de Beaucrillon desires to kiiow if made- 
 moiselle will come down-stairs or receive him here?" 
 said the servant. 
 
 "I will come down presently," Narka replied. But 
 when the man was gone, she said to Basil : "I must be 
 alone for a while. I cannot see any one. Don't let 
 him come up." 
 
 "I will protect you," Basil said; and he kissed her 
 again, and went away. 
 
 Narka waited till the sound of his footfalls on the 
 stairs had quite ceased, and then she flung herself on 
 her knees, and her tortured heart found relief in a flood 
 of passionate tears, while her soul went up in a pier- 
 cing prayer for pity and help. But it was not in her 
 nature to indulge long in the luxury of grief, and to
 
 Narka. 353 
 
 keep action waiting on emotion. She rose and dried 
 her eyes, and considered what she had to do. The vital 
 crisis had come and gone. She was glad to have seen 
 Basil. That last caress had satisfied an intolerable 
 craving of her heart, and given her courage for what 
 remained to be done. Her last fears were now cast out; 
 she felt armed against every attack from within and 
 from without. She would have risen and gone away 
 that moment, but for the fear of meeting Basil or M. de 
 Beaucrillon. Besides, she must write a farewell note to 
 Sibyl, explaining her flight. This done, she put on her 
 cloak and bonnet, and waited. After a while the bell 
 clanged, the gates were opened, and Sibyl's open car- 
 riage came wheeling into the court. Soon Narka heard 
 a light step on the stairs, and there was a knock at 
 the door, then a pause, and she heard the step descend- 
 ing. At the end of about half an hour there was a 
 sound of wheels moving away. Narka, fi'om a safe 
 distance, looked through the lace curtains, and saw 
 Sibyl and M. de Beaucrillon and Basil all driving off' to- 
 gether. Basil had kept his promise of protecting her. 
 She was free now to go. But instead of hurrying away, 
 she sat down. It was not that her purpose faltered ; she 
 felt very sti'ong and resolute, but extraordinarily exaltee. 
 A strange sensation came over her, something like what 
 she had experienced in the prison; it was as if she had 
 been lifted out of the world, bej^ond time, and was look- 
 iing back on all she had left behind, on the broken des- 
 tiny she was running away from, as one looks back from 
 a turn in the road at the house one has just left; but the 
 mystery of life seemed suddenly illuminated with an 
 altogether different meaning and purpose from what she 
 had seen, or fancied, in that other vision; the dark and 
 cruel things were now bright with hidden possibilities 
 2<i
 
 354 Narka. 
 
 of blessing and redemption ; she saw Marguerite's ideal 
 emerge iu all its beauty amidst the storm and confusiorx 
 of the world around it; and side by side with this she 
 saw her own ideal ovex'turned and dishonored; the 
 things that she had worshipped had betrayed her; the 
 love whose incantation had transfigured her whole life 
 had melted away like a shadow, and with it all her illu- 
 sions had vanished; the insane theories, the wild en- 
 thusiasms, which had inspired and misled her, had sud- 
 denly evaporated with the great passion that had fed her 
 belief in them. Only a little while ago the defeat of 
 those hopes and dreams would have seemed the bitterest 
 of life's revenges; but now she was content to let them 
 go. And was everything gone? Was thei'e nothing 
 saved from the wreck ? Yes ; there was God and her 
 fellow-creatures; there was all humanity to care for. 
 She would open her heart to this larger love, and put 
 her hand to whatsoever service of help came to it. In 
 this supreme moment of her sacrifice Nai'ka was be- 
 ginning to taste something of the inebriation that comes 
 to those who drink of the bitter cup with courage. 
 
 But it was time to be going. She rose quickly, and 
 went down-stairs. It seemed only yesterday that she 
 had walked up those crimson steps to be greeted by Sibyl 
 in the boudoir where a few hours ago she had heard the 
 sentence that banished her. There was a servant in the 
 hall ; she passed him by, and went out into the garden 
 to a gate that opened into the street. Narka knew the 
 trick of the latch ; she lifted it, let herself out, and then 
 drew the gate that locked itself behind her.
 
 NarJca. 356 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 It is now winter again at Yrakow. Sibyl and her 
 husband and Basil are once more assembled in that 
 tapestried room where we first saw them. Father Chris- 
 topher is there too, aged and broken, his figure, former- 
 ly so erect, is now bent, and he walks like a man who is 
 still carrying a load on his shoulders and dragging a 
 chain ; but this he declares is only a bad habit that his 
 old limbs cannot get rid of ; he says he is the happiest of 
 men; and indeed the sei'enity of his countenance and 
 his cheerful flow of spirits confirm this assertion. 
 
 Basil was engaged to Marie Krinsky, and the marriage 
 was soon to be celebrated at the Winter Palace with all 
 pomp becoming the presence of royalty and the rank 
 of the bride and bridegroom. 
 
 Sibyl ought to have been satisfied. And yet the old 
 castle was empty of something that she missed at every 
 turn. She was grateful to Nai'ka for having gone of her 
 own free-will and set Basil free; but her absence made 
 a void that nothing could fill. By tacit consent, the 
 brother and sister never spoke of Narka ; but each knew 
 that she was dearer than ever to the other since they had 
 lost her. 
 
 This evening M. de Beaucrillon was reading aloud 
 the newspaper, when he came to a pai'agraph headed, 
 ^^ Milan. — Extraordinary Scene at La Scala,''^ and 
 having read so far, stopped suddenly. 
 
 Sibyl looked up from her embroidery frame. "What 
 is it ?" she said.
 
 356 Narka. 
 
 He hesitated a moment, and then, with a movement 
 that seemed to say, "Why not?" read on: "'Last night 
 Mademoiselle Narka Larik made her debut in Norma, 
 and no one who witnessed the performance will ever 
 forget the scene. Her extraordinary beauty would alone 
 have insured her a success, but this, joined to her in- 
 comparable voice and transcendent talent, won for her 
 such a triumph as no one present ever saw on any stage. 
 The audience simply went mad with entliusiasm. The 
 
 King of X , who was present with tlie Queen, rushed 
 
 on the stage and conducted the beautiful artist, who 
 was almost overcome with emotion, to the royal box, 
 where the Queen embraced her, and drawing a costly 
 diamond ring from her own finger, placed it on Made- 
 moiselle Narka's. Cries of ^^Evviva la Regina .'" ^^Ev- 
 viva la Narka .'" showed how the spectators rejoiced in 
 this meeting of the two royalties of genius and rank. 
 The prima donna is invited to a dinner given in her 
 honor by their Majesties on the 20th instant.' " 
 
 A moment of intense silence followed the reading of 
 this passage. Then M. de Beaucrillon laid down the 
 newspaper and said: "She is a noble woman. I hope 
 some Crown Prince will fall in love with her and marry 
 her!" 
 
 THE END.
 
 BEN-HUR: A TALE OF THE CHRIST. 
 
 By Lew. Wallace. Kew Edition, pp. 552. 16mo, 
 
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 Anything so startling, new, and distinctive as the leading feature of this 
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