" 1 am ready " The Leveller By Alexander McArthur (Author of "Gemmo," "Rubinstein," "Irih Rebel*," Etc., Etc.) New York C H. Doscher & Co. Copyright, 1908, by C H. DOSCHER & CO. Inscribed to SIR FRANCIS W. BRADY. Bart. 2137087 The Leveller CHAPTER I. Out of the gloom of the great Isaacs Cathe- dral a young girl, wrapped to the teeth in furs, stole furtively, and casting an eager glance up and down the snow-covered road- way, beckoned to a passing iswostschik, who quickly responded to her order and drove up to the sidewalk. "Wasily Ostroff, Line Four," Louboff Mal- kiel said briefly. "Twenty-five kopecks, Barishnya." The young girl shrugged her shoulders dis- dainfully. Bargaining is a custom and a necessity in Eussia. "Twenty-five kopecks!" she echoed. "Do you take me for the Minister of Finance? I will give you fifteen or nothing." "Make it twenty, Barishnya meliya," pleaded the driver, as he looked down admir- ingly into the dazzling fairness of her lovely face. "I will take you for fifteen, but a beau- tiful young lady like you, I know, would not have the heart to force so close a bargain. You see, the day is cold, my horse is hungry, 8 THE LEVELLER and I I am hungry, too. Ye Bokha bar- ishnya!" The soft, delicious curves of Louboff An- tonivna's beautifully chiseled mouth widened into a smile. "I don't believe you," she replied with mock severity, "but charasho; I will give you tea money. ' ' Smiling, the iswostschik threw back the fur of his sleigh with that servile yet gracious courtesy so characteristic of the peasant Rus- sian, and handed her in. He buttoned the rug at the back of the seat with clumsy fingers, for his hands were en- cased in thick fur gloves, tucked the fur well about her feet, and got up on his own seat with as much alacrity as the heavy swathings of his body would allow; then with a grunt of approval and a word of endearment to his lean and hungry beast, he drove off in the direction of the Neva. Louboff settled down under her heavy fur coverings comfortably; then the noise of horses' hoofs behind her made her look round suddenly. All at once the usual fairness of her complexion deepened with a flush of an- noyance, and her starlike eyes lost their soft- ness in one swift flash of anger. THE 'LEVELLER 9 "Ah, so I am under surveillance !" she mut- tered petulantly. The she bent forward to the iswostschik. "Turn and drive toward the Winter Palace," she commanded briefly. "Drive quickly and there is big tea money for you ! ' ' "Charasho! Charasho!" assented the driver, and turning immediately, LoubofF was enabled to get a good look at the official fol- lowing her. Then, as she expected, the latter gave a like order to his iswostschik, seeing which LoubofF laughed. "And it is to such stupids as these that they entrust our surveillance!" she thought sneeringly. A few seconds later she bent forward again. "It is too cold to go farther. Drive directly to Wasily OstrofF," she said, not without a tremor in her voice as her hand touched some papers inside the fur lining of her cloak. "I hear; I obey," replied the man gladly, and whipping up his horse they drove swiftly along the quay and over the Nicholaifsky Most or Nicholas Bridge ; the winds sweeping up the frozen Neva cutting the exposed flesh of their faces till it tingled. Turning to the right, they entered the quar- ter of St. Petersburg which corresponds to 10 THE LEVELLER the famous Quartier Latin of Paris. The Masily Ostroff, or Basil Island, is one of the many islands of the Neva the quarter of the city where the various schools, colleges and academies of art are situated, and the quarter where students of all classes congregate daily and usually find lodgings. They drove up Line Four, and again Lou- boff cast an anxious glance behind. The same official was following. Calling to the iswostschik to stop, Louboff Antonivna got out and paid the man his fif- teen kopecks, with twenty-five extra for natschai, or tea money, listening with a smile of amusement to his blessing, which embraced the whole hierarchy of heaven. Then she went through a small garden, up a steep flight of wooden steps, and after ringing was admitted at once. A young man, like her in features and col- oring, but unlike her in that he was sinister and forbidding, whereas she was beautiful with a beauty that was startling in its fresh youthfulness and candor of expression, came to the door. "I waited a full half hour," she began crossly, ' ' but no one came. I have the papers THE LEVELLER 11 still, and I was followed right here, even to the very door." "Followed?" he whispered, and blinked his eyes perplexedly. "Yes. Don't ask me again to do such work. See, my hands are trembling." "Well, it is good, doushinka (little soul), that you thought of coming here. Boris Alex- anderowitch is with me ; your visit could not be better timed. He is in my room now. Ee- member, he is a fanatic a Slavophile of Slavophiles. It would be an excellent thing if you could pretend that you thought well of his faith. I have been able to tell him much about you, but " He put his finger to his lips, smiled, and led the way upstairs to a room on the first landing. "Boris Alexanderowitch, this is my sister, Louboif Antonivna." A young man jumped to his feet as they entered the room, and to Louboff, slender and petite, he looked a young giant. He drew his six feet to their full scope, and, with his heels well together, gave her the regulation Russian military salute, bending the head only. In his uniform of a student of the Engineer- ing School, or Corps des Mines, he was a sol- dierly and handsome figure. Looking up, 12 THE LEVELLER Louboff caught the flash of blue eyes, the sheen of golden hair, and a smile which illumi- nated a countenance singularly honest and open. "What a nice boy!" she thought instan- taneously, and she gave him her hand, blush- ing because of the circumstances of their meeting. There had been so much plotting to accomplish it, and he looked so simple, so honest. It seemed a shame to take advantage of his good nature; but Michel was looking on lynx-eyed, and her animation and smile came in readiness. i Boris Alexanderowitch was conscious of a curious sensation as he looked down into the delicious Oriental face, with its wistfulness in repose, its sensitiveness and its expression of dreamy languor a sensation of coming sud- denly on something long sought for and much wanted, a sensation of finality ; the settling of a desire poignant, keen and overwhelming to the senses. A delightful feeling of the deeper scope of life took possession of him as he feasted his eyes on her beauty. The color in her cheeks, caused by contact with the frosty air out- doors, was faint and lovely, like the petals of THE LEVELLER 13 a wild rose. Her eyes shone and danced, and Boris noticed, when cast down, that her lashes lay thick and curling fully an inch on her cheeks. His admiration was undisguised. For sev- eral minutes he kept his eyes on her like one fascinated, and his courtesy toward her was exaggerated and extreme, tinged with a shy- ness very flattering to the instincts of a woman. Michel turned to a cupboard to get out the vodka, with which all guests on arrival in winter time are greeted, and while he fumbled with the liquor glasses he smiled. "It will be as easy as a song, as easy as a dream," he thought triumphantly, as he turned with the glasses and the bottle. "He is smitten already." "Louboff, roll some cigarettes," he said authoritatively. "Pardon me," cried Alexanderowitch, jumping to his feet. "Can I not do that?" ' i No ; Louboff is an expert. I never smoke any but those she rolls. You must try some." Michel interposed, and Louboff laughingly got the tobacco and papers, working these into cigarettes with incredible swiftness. Boris gazed intently. 14 THE LEVELLER Michel poured out the vodka, and they drank standing. Then a servant brought in the samovar and Louboff made tea, pouring into glasses with silver holders and long spoons, gilded and heavily enameled. They settled themselves comfortably, and after a while Michel excused himself for a few min- utes on the plea of a letter to write, and, going into an adjoining room, left Louboff and Boris alone. For a few moments neither spoke. Both felt a little awkward the awkwardness of interest and youth then Louboff, remember- ing her brother's advice as to the Slavophile tendencies of their guest, said gently: " Just fancy, Boris Alexanderowitch, where I have just come from I was born ; I may say under its very shadow, and only to-day I see it for the first time your great Isaacs Cathe- dral. How splendid it is ! " Boris looked up, and Louboff, seeing the sudden flash of interest in his eyes, knew she had scored a point. "Yes, it is very splendid, Louboff Anto- nivna. Were you there for service?" "No; the fancy just took me to go in and see it," she went on, keeping her starlike eyes THE LEVELLER 15 fixed on his interested face. "I am not an Orthodox, you know, but I am very much drawn toward your religion. It has some- thing that goes to my heart. A je ne sais quoi that appeals to me. It is wrong of me to ad- mit this, I suppose," she added, faltering. ( i Oh, no, no ! " he broke in eagerly, with the enthusiasm of one whose faith was the vital part of his life the beginning and ending of his day's thought, the pivot about which his whole Slavophile sentiments centered. His heart commenced to beat quicker. The thought of a possible proselyte in Louboff set all his interest afire. It would be a task he would undertake, as Louboff well knew and counted on. * ' Do not let such a wrong thought take hold of you. Your religion is good all religions are good but, Louboff Antonivna, our re- ligion is best of all." She smiled. "It is a very wonderful re- ligion," she assented gravely; "an ideal religion. But so many of our people affect your belief for mercenary reasons, I hate even to say it well even interests me." "You are so honest too honest !" he broke in admiringly. "No," she said simply, "I only tell you a 1G THE LEVELLER fact. Michel, for instance, he would join the Orthodox Church to-morrow only because it would help him in his profession.'* "Of course Michel would, and why not?" the young man himself said laughing, as he entered the room. "All religions are a farce. Do right ; that is the main precept which most people forget in their concern for form. Yes, Boris Alexanderowitch, I would go through the longest ordeal and prostrate myself be- fore your images till my knees ached. Nor, ' ' he added tauntingly, seeing the surprised re- proach mingled with pity in Boris Alexan- derowitch 's face, "would I be the first Jew, either, to do so! " "Michel!" cried Louboff pleadingly. "He talks of that of which he knows noth- ing," Boris said soothingly, turning to Louboff. "Perhaps he will know some day." Michel laughed derisively. "Oh, perhaps, perhaps," he said, drawling out the last word, "but don't put notions into Louboff 's head. See her face she is too much interested as it is. Let us talk of something else. She came here to have me take her to see our collection in the Corps des Mines. Suppose we go there, all three. I know it will only make the thousandth time you have played the part of TEE LEVELLER 17 cicerone, Boris Alexanderowitch ; I saw you with some ladies yesterday one of them, I think, the daughter of the Minister of the Interior. ' ' "Yes, my cousin, Vera d'Annenkoff." Brother and sister exchanged glances. "Your cousin! Why, how many cousins have you among the Ministers ? The Minister of Instruction is also your cousin. What splendid chances you have, Boris Alexandero- witch ! ' ' Michel went on with meditative envi- ousness, "you will get some great post; be made a general a member of the Privy Council, perhaps." "I hope so, why not?" assented Boris Alex- anderowitch, well pleased to have his possible brilliant prospects commented on in Louboff 's presence. "Yes, why not?" echoed Michel with a sigh. "Well, I will get my cloak," said Boris rising. "Clnarasho, charasho," said Michel nod- ding as he went with him to the door. As soon as the footsteps of the young Eussian student had died away, Michel turned to his sister hastily. "Can you do it! Your instincts of a 18 THE LEVELLER woman must tell you," he queried in a whis- per of intense earnestness. "Do what?" Louboff's face had grown paler, her eyes were troubled. "Use him." "Michel, I I cannot say." Into the face of the young Jew there came a frenzied enthusiasm. ' ' You must ! You must ! Listen, Louboff , ' ' he cried, catching hold of her two hands and gazing sternly into her frightened eyes. ' ' We need him. He holds the key to our success, and no sacrifice will be too great to gain him. Flatter him, lead him on, let him make love to you. A kiss What may he not tell you for " "Michel!" Louboff's eyes were blazing, her expression full of angry amazement, her voice shrill in its horror. He flung her hands from him. "Can you not forget yourself for a purpose ? " he asked with sinister wrath. "Is there any price too great to pay for revenge revenge for our wrongs; the wrongs of years, the cruelties, merciless, inhuman, hellish, against our peo- ple. Louboff, have you forgotten them? Are you so lacking in spirit? Would you hesi- THE LEVELLER 19 tate?" He went on breathlessly; then he paused. * ' Bah ! " he cried derisively. "Michel, you are out of your mind !" Lou- boff put her arms about her brother's neck and kissed him gently and tenderly ; then she said, her musical voice low and surcharged with emotion: "My brother, I hate them as they hate us; I will use him if I can, but " It was Michel who roused himself first, and in a second his features had assumed their wonted expression of passiveness and pa- tience. Boris Alexanderowitch was descend- ing the stairs. "May the God of our fathers assist us !" he murmured reverently, then he went forward to open the door. Ten minutes later the trio were strolling along the banks of the Neva, Boris a little ashamed. It was the first time in his life that he had ever been in the com- pany of Jews, and he tried to ignore the sur- prised glances of his comrades whom he met and to give all his attention to Louboff. "Well, even if she is a Jewess, surely she is divinely lovely, ' ' he told himself for solace. CHAPTER II. When Boris Gourowsky took up his quar- ters in Line Four of the Wasily Ostroff an anxious mother in the Provinces wrote to him: " Whatever you do, my boy, make no friends with young people whose family ante- cedents are not well known to you. I would rather you had found lodgings the other side of the Neva; but since you say they are all too dear, you must only be very careful. Above all, avoid the Jews. They are the ring- leaders in all the student riots, and it is so easy for one totally innocent to become mixed up in such affairs. "Every evening write me exactly your movements of the day; whom you have seen, what you have done, and where you have spent your time. Go to the Annenkoffs as often as possible, even if they are not cordial to a poor relative. "Remember Count d'Annenkoff is my brother and you have a right to his protec- tion. Therefore, shut your eyes to anything the Countess may say or do. She is very 20 THE LEVELLER 21 mondaine and severe of manner ; consequent- ly, she may snub you, but that must make no difference in your attitude. ' ' I have a premonition, about you, my boy. I fear this journey of yours to St. Peters- burg; you would take it on Friday, but I am probably only superstitious. Still, do as I tell you, and, God willing, all will be well." On the receipt of this epistle, Boris Alex- anderowitch smiled with the heedless con- temptuousness of youth. He knew what his mother feared, and that her fears were based on well-grounded facts. The whole Wasily Ostroff was honey- combed with Nihilism and Nihilistic doctrines, but Nihilism had no attraction and no terrors for him. He despised it principally because he considered that the Poles and the Jews were its leading spirits, and for both races he had the Bussian's profound and inborn dislike. That there were abuses and disadvantages in the government of his country, he was the first to acknowledge. He longed, like thou- sands of his conservative countrymen, for a constitutional government, but he was also aware that his country was far from ripe for it. He knew this, having watched his father's 22 THE 'LEVELLER labors, his disappointments on behalf of his serfs. Alexander Gourowsky had been one of the first to free the five thousand souls that labored for him, and before the Ukase of the Tzar liberating them had been a diligent worker toward this end; but the results had been far from those desired. Boris Gourow- sky had seen his father die a slow death, caused by disillusions and disappointment. The once prosperous lands of Gourowsky, when owned by Count Gourowsky, had given a generous revenue; the peasants were uni- formly content and happy. They always had plenty to eat, fur cloaks or shoubas for the winter, a warm stove* to sleep on, and most of them owned a balalika or a concertina to make music on in the evenings when their work was done. Then the Ukase of Alexander II., freeing the serfs, changed the old order. On the Gourowsky estate there was great rejoicing, none being happier than Count Alexander Gourowsky himself. For a while things went on splendidly, but only for a while. Then, little by little, the once prosperous property began to decline. * During the six months of cold weather the Russian peasants sleep on the tile covering of their massive stoves. THE LEVELLER 23 In the various villages of the estate Jewish money lenders settled in the guise of shop- keepers, ostensibly assuming Orthodoxy to make their residence possible. Ivan, the thriftless, suddenly a land owner where formerly he had been a slave, all too soon, because of easy credit, found himself in debt. Vodka was plentiful, and it was much easier and far pleasanter to sit at home and drink than work. Bit by bit, the holdings of the peasants were mortgaged to the Jews. Alexander Gourow- sky did his best to stem the new tide of affairs. He went among his once happy peo- ple, threatening, reasoning, and exhorting, but to no purpose. Sometimes when Ivan was sober he would listen to reason, but when Ivan was drunk a usual condition, for vodka of the vilest sort, at extortion prices, was plentiful the money lenders were his best friends and Count Alexander a med- dler. For some years things went on so, till credit and with it vodka, had ceased ; then the peas- ants too late realized that their boasted free- dom had brought with it a bondage cruel and merciless, that of the rapacious Jews, who now assumed practical ownership of their 24 THE LEVELLER holdings. This forced the peasants to a ceaseless round of toil, that the mere interest of moneys lent might be paid. On the Gourowsky estate there followed several bloody anti-Semitic riots. Count Alexander Gourowsky was blamed for these. Paid emissaries of the money lenders circu- lated various reports till, harassed beyond en- durance, Count Gourowsky, broken down in health, was forced to start for St. Petersburg in a raging snow storm, to answer the ques- tions of the authorities. An attack of pneu- monia caused his death, but, even at the last, he still thought of his " souls," as he always called his people. He had impoverished himself in the vain attempt to pay off their mortgages. In leaving all to his widow and his only son, Count Boris, he begged them to live frugally and continue the building of the schools he had planned throughout his estate. ' ' It is not in Nihilism, but in education, that the ultimate salvation of my country lies," wrote the philanthropist, in his will; and Boris, who was then only fourteen, vowed to follow his father's teachings and comply with his request to the uttermost. CHAPTER III. It had been pure accident that led Boris Gourowsky, as he thought, to the rooms of Michel Malkiel. Malkiel, a schoolmate, had the rooms immediately below him, and much as he tried to avoid the young Jew, still total avoidance was out of the question. On several occasions Michel had invited him to a "spread" in his rooms, but Boris had always found a means of excusing him- self. Michel would offer him a cigarette; Boris if he had to accept it would crumble it unsmoked between his fingers, throw it away or purposely drop it. But Malkiel had a purpose, and Boris' good nature was not proof against it. On the morning in question, immediately after luncheon, while Boris was working, there had been a knock at his door, and Michel, humble, perplexed and begging, stood outside. He was utterly at sea over a proposition the examination was near would Boris Alex- anderowitch help him out? The young Eussian had hesitated. He 25 26 THE LEVELLER would have slammed the door in Michel's face had he followed his instincts, but his good nature was stronger. It would only be a mat- ter of a few minutes, he told himself, an hour at most, and then it would be a case of a double avoidance, of picking a quarrel, of anything to free himself from the insistent courtesy of his schoolmate. Even as he followed the latter downstairs, he decided to change his lodgings. Then Louboff arrived, and Boris, vanquished, drank vodka and tea with them. "Why did I not refuse?" he asked himself angrily, as he found himself between the brother and sister, on the banks of the Neva. "I am without stamina," he thought; then Louboff glanced up at him and his misgivings were lost in wonder at her beauty. After an hour in her company, Boris Gou- rowsky's preconceived notions of the Jewish race received a somewhat rude jolting. In her all the distinctive traits of a people he had learned to dislike intensely were absent or so effaced as to be nonrecognizable. The more he talked to her the more his notions became confused or upset, and he began to ask himself if he were not narrow-minded to sup- pose it was otherwise with Jews than with THE LEVELLER 27 Christians, or if in one race, as in the other, various classes were not to be found. He asked himself if the lines between the objectionable and the unobjectionable were not equally marked among his own people. He realized his feelings with overmaster- ing force. Louboff a Jewess ! He looked at her side- ways and the loveliness of her features daz- zled his senses. There came to his memory the Jews of the Provinces: the sleek, hawk- nosed men with their whining voices, oil soaked ringlets, evil smelling gaberdines ; the Jews who had fattened in his father's vil- lages. Decidedly Louboff was not of this class, hardly even Michel, although Michel had their eyes, and his lips, like theirs, were outcurled and sensual. Yet his senses told him she was of their race. But what did it matter? He flattered himself with the deci- sion that, after all, beauty was always beauty, removing barriers, effacing preju- dices, always a law unto itself. "But why do I worry about this?" the young Eussian asked himself scornfully. "What is Louboff Malkiel to me? She was a stranger to me an hour ago, and an hour hence " 28 THE LEVELLER Just then Louboff laid her hand on his arm, and even through the thickness of his fur coat, the mere contact of her fingers caused his blood to run riot in his veins. Then a great horror took possession of him. He thought of his mother, and a dozen contin- gent ideas scurried through his brain. They had reached the Corps des Mines, and an overmastering desire to fly, to save himself while there was yet time, took possession of him. Hastily he sought in his mind for some ex- cuse. "Oh," said Michel at his elbow, "here are some friends of mine. Do take Louboff in and show her the collection. You can do it so much better than I. ' ' Boris looked helplessly from brother to sister, and caught a soft, expectant glance from Louboff 's widely opened eyes. "Of course, of course; with the greatest pleasure," he stammered; and the scene of that moment the snow-covered streets daz- zling in the sunshine, the golden dome of St. Isaac's shining across the river, the blue of the sky above, and Louboff, adorably lovely in her muffling furs was stamped forever on his memory. TEE LEVELLER 29 ''Kismet, kismet," he said to himself as Louboff and he entered the great red building together. Michel ran up the steps after them and laid a detaining hand on his sister's arm. "Do not forget," he said in Hebrew, his face white in its earnestness. A shiver of horror passed over Louboff as she caught the cunning and elation of her brother 's glance and realized its cause. Nihil- ism in theory sounded all right, and there were moments when revenge prompted her to any action moments when the wrongs committed against her race raised her indignation and fury. But Nihilism in practice? She drew her breath hard and in very pain at the thought. Once, in the Nevsky, she had seen a bomb thrown at a Minister in his car- riage, and the bits of torn flesh, the dismem- bered limbs, the smell of blood and powder had been an object lesson which haunted her memory frequently. Yet this was about to happen again and perhaps through her agency. For a moment faintness overcame all her senses and the shadows of impending disasters seemed to gather thick about her. 30 THE LEVELLER 1 ' Oh, the mystery of the cruelty of things ! ' ' she thought despairingly, as the truth of the English poet's line beat itself maddeningly into her reason and left her sick in mind and body. CHAPTER IV. Very much agitated, nervous always, yet excited and pleased by turns, Boris Alexan- derowitch began a tour of the show-cases in the Corps des Mines. He opened by telling LoubofF that it was one of the most wonderful collections in the world, second only to that of the British Museum. Finding that she was listening, all attention and interest, he warmed to his subject, and began to discuss learnedly on the values and qualities of beryls and tourmalines and the beauty of the most complete collection of tur- quoises to be found anywhere. " There," he added, his blue eyes twinkling with patriotism, "we beat the British Museum out and out." When they paused before the great nugget of gold from the mines on the eastern slopes of the Ural, he was well pleased to see that it failed utterly to impress her, scarcely seemed to interest her. It seemed to him another proof of her un-Jewish temperament. She gave one careless glance at it and continued talking of the supposed qualities of ill or 31 32 THE LEVELLER good luck attributed to certain stones and professed a great belief in the pretty super- stition. "You see," she said, baring a lovely hand, "I always wear a turquoise. " "You have luck in love? Does it bring it to you?" he asked anxiously. "No," she replied with a coquettish flash of her eyes that electrified him. "But I hope it will some day." Two hours passed easily. Boris found she had read her brother's text-books to advan- tage and had read them thoroughly. She was interested in all the subjects that interested him, and could match opinions with him learnedly. Only when the last of the collection had been thoroughly criticized and scrutinized did they think of going; but on reaching the en- trance hall Michel was nowhere to be found. Boris sent an attendant through the building to search for him, and when the man returned to report failure, Louboff said laughingly : "Well, Boris Alexanderowitch, it looks as if my dear brother has deserted me, so I sup- pose I must trouble you to take me home." "Your brother is evidently a very good " began the young Eussian gal- THE LEVELLER 33 lantly. Then he paused awkwardly, horrified at the fact that he was about to call a Jew "friend." Louboff looked up at him suddenly and the change in his face and its perturbation gave her a keen pang. Boris just then hailed a passing iswostschik and was about to make a bargain, when Louboff said pleadingly : ' * Let us walk ; the air is good and my fur shoes are light. We can cross the river at St. Isaac's." Quite close to them stood the official who had followed her earlier in the day from St. Isaac's, and Boris noted the malice in her tones and wondered if she wanted to punish him by this proposition of walking, having understood why he had hesitated in calling Michel friend. He determined not to let her see he under- stood her manoeuvre and, although like all Eussians he hated walking, he said affably : "As you please, Louboff Antonivna. I shall be delighted." The matter being settled, Boris smiled down at her in a way that made her heart beat quicker and caused her to glance away hastily over the river because of the deepen- ing flush in her face. Under their snow shoes the frozen and 34 THE LEVELLER caked snow crunched and crackled, and the frosty air made their noses tingle. They walked several yards without speaking, then all at once Louboff plunged into a conversa- tion anent the persecution of her race, and Boris turned and looked at her, startled, won- dering if she could be a mind reader, trying to answer the many cruel and ignoble questions just then puzzling his brain. It was mar- velous, he told himself, and at first he listened impatiently, with that impatience born of in- credulity; then he grew half angry. He was too polite to say he disbelieved her, so he answered in derisive "oh's," and "all's" until Louboff taxed him openly with discredit- ing her assertions. "Oh, no; oh, no," he replied with an evi- dent show of irritation, * ' but there are always two sides to a question, and you only see your own." "Let me make it plain to you," she pleaded, "and I will gladly hear your answer. I will tell you only of things within my own knowl- edge of things I know, things that happen constantly in my own house." He shrugged his shoulders. "But what good will it do! What good have words ever done!" THE LEVELLER 35 ' ' A great deal, ' ' she replied spiritedly. ' ' If my judgment is right and you are the man I think you are well " Her tone was flattering; her voice danger- ously sweet and seductive. Her glance alone would have vanquished a man far less gener- ous in sentiment than he, as she paused, watching him intently. "I am listening," he murmured with averted eyes. Several times her voice broke in its earn- estness as she related how her father, a mer- chant of the second guild, was ,at all times subjected to impositions. She told him how officials came to him with demands when- ever they saw fit for one thousand roubles or ten thousand roubles, as the case might be, and how he was forced to pay and keep silence or lose all chance of doing business. When she had finished she looked up at him, and the glance of his eyes, stony and hard, met hers unflinchingly. "Well, Louboff Antonivna, your father must be very rich, and if he pays this tribute, he knows his business. He must have some good reason for paying it; he must gain his wealth through usury." Expecting a totally different answer, she 36 THE LEVELLER flushed with disappointment and chagrin. "It may be; I don't know," she faltered. Boris noticed the flush and smiled. At once a picture of her father, a lean and hungry Jew, rose up before his mind's eye. "Oh, the beast!" he thought vindictively. "Of course he is a usurer; all Jews are usurers. Which of them ever gave us Chris- tians quarter? Don't they squeeze us and harass us to death when they have the chance?" and instead of sympathizing with Louboff over her father's persecution, he felt glad of it. Then he told her of his father's grievances. They walked slowly and more slowly, wrapped up in themselves and their subject. Louboff listened to his frank and open de- nunciation of her race, her lovely face grow- ing more and more troubled, till finally Boris caught the expression and stopped short in the middle of a sentence. "Oh, what does it matter!" he said with a nerveless laugh. "What have you and I to do with so deep a question? See how beauti- ful the world is about us." "Oh, but we have. We have," she broke in tragically, "we ought to do what we can to straighten it." THE LEVELLER 37 She winced as he said quickly, again becom- ing serious: ''Straighten it? No. There is no way to straighten it, believe me, dear Louboff An- tonivna. There is not room in Eussia for our two races; that is all." "You would banish us as a people?" "Yes, as a people all but you, Louboff Antonivna. ' ' The rich tones of his voice soft- ened and quavered. l ' I would keep you. ' ' The earnestness of youth was in the added sentence, and despite the fact that it could have been uttered as a polite compliment, banal and meaningless, to her sex and beauty, Louboff felt he meant it, as for one brief sec- ond they gazed breathlessly into each other's eyes. Then slowly the implied compliment to her- self was forgotten and only the insult to her race remained. She bent her head to hide the tears of vexation that rose to her eyes. Boris saw them and grew sorry. He blinked his eyes and bit his lips, in anger at himself. "But why," he went on in a tone that he meant to be gay, but which sounded over- strained and false, "need we worry over such things? When .Tews and Eussians are alike 38 THE ^LEVELLER forgotten, the world will still go on. Forgive me, Louboff Antonivna," he added, bending toward her tenderly, "I spoke too candidly. Why do you care?" "Because," she ejaculated quickly and with a passion Oriental in its abandon, "I hate to belong to a race despised. I hate it ! I hate it! The humiliation, the senseless misunder- standing, the injustice. Why should you hate, despise us, loathe us? I don't hate Chris- tians. I am too liberal or too foolish," she added bitterly. "But, Louboff Antonivna, I don't hate you." He dwelt on the pronoun lingeringly, fondly, and looking up she met his eyes, earn- est and sincere. Her own dropped quickly and confusedly. "Yes, yes; what does it matter!" she said nervously, as she laughed a laugh that ended in a sob. A tear had frozen on her long lashes, and taking his handkerchief out, he brushed the frozen particle away. "You will forgive me?" he begged anx- iously. "Why, of course," and the smile that she gave him was adorable in its coquetry and also its humility. They had reached the crossing of the Neva, TEE LEVELLER 39 and together they went down the wooden steps to where the sleighs stood awaiting pas- sengers. Boris helped her into the first and a moment later a swift skater from behind was pushing them along. As custom permits and enjoins in St. Pet- ersburg, Boris put his arm about Louboff to keep her steady and safe in the sleigh. When she felt herself in his clasp she nestled closer, and as they sped along, the frosty air biting their faces, he felt angry with himself. She was so fragile and lovely, almost a stranger to him; why should he annoy and harrow her feelings ? So he whispered as well as he could in the teeth of the wind: "I have enjoyed our walk immensely. " She smiled and nodded. The swiftness of their pace made talking impossible. Arrived at the other side, Louboff looking back, saw the same official getting out of his sleigh. "He has tramped," she thought gladly. ' 'I can see his teeth chattering. And he will tramp again." So she proposed to Boris that they continue their walk, and he, nothing loath to prolong a tete-a-tete that he was finding more and more delightful, ac- quiesced with evident satisfaction. Night had fallen, and with the street lights 40 THE LEVELLER shining on it, the snow glittered and sparkled brilliantly. The picturesque troikas of the richer classes, with their blue and green snow nets, bells a-jingle, the horses harnessed in silver, gave color and movement to the scene. Boris was determined not to let their con- versation grow serious, so he began to talk of music and plays and therefore found out that Louboff had graduated from the Conserva- torium and was a pupil of Rubinstein. "Oh, yes," she said modestly, "I play. A piano house here is arranging a series of con- certs for me in Germany, and I may go. I have already given concerts in St. Peters- burg, Moscow and Warsaw. Rubinstein wishes me to play in Berlin." "When?" "Next month. I dread the ordeal." Boris could not understand the sudden sense of dejection that came over him. 1 ' Michel does not want me to go, ' ' she went on in her soft, melodious voice. "If I were only sure of success." ' ' Success ! You need only look at your au- dience and you will be sure of it, unless they are blind," Boris thought quickly; saying in- stead, "If Rubinstein wants you to go, you THE LEVELLER 41 may be sure of success. But are you not going to play here first? I shall never rest now till I hear you." "Well, that is very easy. You will dine with me to-night," she said hospitably, "and after- wards I will play to you all the Chopin Noc- turnes and Preludes, or anything else you like Schubert, Schumann, Beethoven, Brahms or Bach." The Chopin Preludes and Nocturnes ! The enchanting music of the Polish tone poet swept through his memory, and then he recog- nized the haunting something that had puz- zled him in her beauty. Yes; the Preludes and the Nocturnes. These were what she re- minded him of. ' ' Delighted, but " His scattered senses returned, and out of his bewilderment there came caution. He hesitated. For nothing on earth, he decided, could he eat at the table of a Jew. He tried to think of an excuse. "I have to dine at the house of my uncle, Count d'Annenkoff, but if you will permit me to come later?" "I will be charmed to have you," she said, smiling cordially, and again the Chopin themes and melodies chased each other through his brain. 42 THE LEVELLER They had reached the door and she gave him her hand. He bent over it and was about to raise it to his lips, thought a moment, and then dropped it with a bow. CHAPTER V. Just as Michel left Louboff with Boris and turned into Line Four, a tall man, wearing a long squirrel-lined cloak, or shouba, of black cloth, with a heavy astrakhan collar and cap to match, each hand thrust through the sleeve of his coat, came up behind him and murmured laconically: "Number Fourteen!" "I listen," replied Michel, not without a start of surprise. "TraktirGlouboff." "Charasho." The next moment the stranger had passed him and Michel continued on his way to his lodgings. Traktir Glouboff. He knew the place well a den in the Wasily OstrofF, where the mem- bers of his society met occasionally, only very occasionally at most half a dozen times in the year, for some of them were watched, and to congregate in any number at any known rendezvous was to court arrest. Michel felt elated. Boris was safe with Louboff, and although Louboff, with her artis- 43 44 THE LEVELLER tic temperament and refined tastes, might not prove as tractable or easily influenced as a woman of coarser fibre, still he flattered him- self that when it came to a climax she would stand by him to the end and give every assist- ance in her power. He hurried along to his studies, completed these to his own satisfaction, ate a scanty dinner, and then sallied forth to his rendez- vous at the Traktir Glouboff, which was to take place between six and seven the dinner hour in St. Petersburg the one hour in the day, as the conspirators well knew, when the police were the most likely to relax their vigilance. Night had fallen, and Michel shuffled along in his heavy fur-lined rubber boots, hardly making a sound. He had a bashlik or hood of light brown woolen cloth tied down over his peaked student's cap, the long ends doubled over his mouth and tied back of his neck ; this with two motives: the one and most impor- tant, to conceal his features ; and the other to keep his ears, chin and forehead from freez- ing, the cold being intense. The sky above was leaden hued ; not a star was visible, and there was a flurry of snow in the air. The other side of the river with TEE LEVELLER 45 its churches and palaces, its throng of gaily caparisoned horses, its troikas and equipages, its numerous electric lights, was always a brilliant picture at night, but in the dimly lit streets of the Wasily Ostroff things were gloomy and cheerless, and there was always little life and less movement. The farther Michel went down the Line the poorer and more desolate grew the aspect of the streets. Tall factories grew frequent, and the lodging houses of the students gave place to the meaner houses of the working classes and the moujik. Except for an occasional janitor wrapped in his sheepskin and half asleep on his wooden stool by the door, Michel met no one. Through the double windows of the houses the young Jew caught many a glimpse of humble but happy interiors; of women, buxom, cheery and laughing, their brilliant kerchiefs tied over smoothly parted straw-colored hair; of men in red blouses belted over velveteen breeches, their bull-like necks showing ruddy under thick locks that looked as if they had been cut under a bowl; children were every- where, and the whole family, from the young- est to the oldest, sat by the stove, sipping tea out of long glasses or eating black bread. 46 THE LEVELLER Michel again and again caught the glow of the red lamps hung before the ikons or holy pictures, without which no Orthodox home exists in Eussia, and the sight of these and of the people uniformly contented and happy angered him and disgusted him. "The devil take them," he murmured to himself. "They are satisfied. They are as pigs wallowing in their own mire ; they pray to their saints and their images for their so- called * little father,' the Tsar, and if they were free to-morrow to what purpose would be our sacrifices ! What slaves they are ! Slav ! How truly their name befits them." He reached the tavern, passed within, and, ordering a glass of tea, sat down to wait. Again he noticed the contented and jovial countenances of the men about him, and he scowled. They were drinking and telling stories. Hoarse shouts of laughter rang in the smoke-filled room, and the mien of all bespoke at least contentment. In repose some of the faces were sad. But they were a well- fed, warmly clothed lot. They had their tea, their pipes; some of them their balilakas an instrument of the mandolin order to ac- company their songs ; Michel, studying them, communed with himself, and his wrath grew. THE LEVELLER 47 He finished his tea and was lighting a cigarette when a stout man, evidently dif- ferent in calibre to the frequenters of the place, entered. This man sat down opposite Michel and after a while apparently dropped into conversation with him, as one wonld with a stranger. He, too, ordered tea, and when bending over the table to get a piece of sugar, said sotto voce and in French: ' Look out for the moujik near tne door. He has a wig on. and I think is Tretiakoff, of the Secret Police." After a while Michel turned round and gave a swift glance at the moujik. "Yes," he replied by a nod of his head, and a downward blink of his eyelids. * ' I thought so. Well, leave now and return fifteen minutes later. Come in by the back door, to the room upstairs." Michel stood up at once, paid the few kopecks owing, and left. A quarter of an hour later, to the second, he had entered a hallway in a house on the next street, and, reaching the Traktir Glouboff by a covered passageway, went direct to a room on the second floor. A man outside the door admitted him, and he found himself in a long, low-ceilinged room 48 THE LEVELLER of unpainted wood, roughly and scantily furnished. His friend of the Traktir, known as Number Ten, was there before him with some half dozen others. On entering the room, Michel, whose sense of proportion and distance was keen, looked about him somewhat dazedly. The room was the bedroom of one of the party known as Number Four, a room Michel often visited; but on this occasion it seemed strange, smaller, and he looked about him in wonder. Around and about he glanced inquiringly, puzzled. Everything seemed as it had al- ways been, and yet he could not shake off the feeling of there being something different. Then the party settled down to business and he quickly forgot his first sensations in the discussion that ensued. It was conducted in earnest tones, and Number One, the leader, spoke in acrid accents of their utter failure in reaching the Tsar. "Well," said one of those present as he balanced his cigarette between the first and second fingers of his left hand. "What would you have us do? Kill the Tsaritsa?" "God forbid," said Number One. "Then what can we do? She never leaves him. He was, as you say, driving unattended THE LEVELLER 49 on the Quay of the Nobles, but she was with him. She was with him on every occasion and she will continue to be with him." ''Except on this journey to Moscow." It was Michel who spoke, and his voice vibrated with enthusiasm and excitement. "Yes, except on this journey to Moscow," echoed Number One. "But that takes place when?" "I think I can find out." All eyes were directed toward Michel. Then in rapid, uneven accents he formulated his plans and told of his hopes. Number One stroked his beard. "It seems possible," he said quietly, as he began tearing several lengths of paper. These he put in a bag handed to him by Number Four, and silently those assembled drew one each. Michel was the last, and he drew the only one of great length. As he gazed at the slip his face grew ashen pale, then changed to a deep scarlet, and the pulse in his throat beat so that Num- ber One, facing him, could see it. "Your nerve fails you, little one I" asked the latter, half tauntingly, half playfully. 1 ' No, by the God of my fathers, no ! " cried Michel, standing up, his eyes flashing. "Give 50 THE LEVELLER me your orders now now," he repeated. "I am ready." "But circumstances are not." The cold, clear tones of Number One 's voice penetrated Michel's brain dimly and dampened his enthusiasm. Michel dropped back into his seat and for a moment the room reeled about him and great beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. With an effort, he fumbled for his cigarette case, chose a cigarette, and managed to light it with an unsteady hand. The others were watching him closely. One of the members gave a great sigh. The boy looked so young, so fragile; it was hardly possible he could realize the promises he had made. Then Number One, who had mean- while been pondering ways and means, be- gan to give his directions; short, clear and precise. There would be no further meeting for Michel. Number Four was to bring a bomb to Michel's lodgings and Michel was to use it as he saw fit. The meeting terminated informally. Num- ber Four brought forth a bottle of vodka, dis- tributing small glasses to each of his guests. He filled these glasses, then, lighting cigar- ettes, the guests went away one by one, hav- THE LEVELLER 51 ing first called to the doorman who stood out- side. This latter individual, when all were away, went about putting the chairs in order; then he cautiously tiptoed to the landing, thor- oughly scrutinized the badly lighted, evil- smelling stairs, for any loiterers, and return- ing to the room he drew his hand uncertainly along one side of the wall. There was a creaking sound; part of the wooden partition moved backward, and out of the aperture stepped two distinguished individuals in plain clothes, their faces grim but contented two men known through the length and breadth of all Russia as tlie clev- erest and most daring emissaries of the Tsar's Secret Police. "VasMprevoskaditeltsvo," said the door- man with a low obeisance, "the way is clear, your servant has done his duty. ' ' Taking a fifty-rouble note from his pocket, the older of the two men flung the blood money at the head of the bowing traitor. CHAPTER VI. Boris Alexanderowitch dined well, and much to his surprise was cordially welcomed by his uncle. Several important members of the government, with that informality which is characteristic of Russian hospitality, hap- pening to have been in conference with Count d'Annenkoff, had been invited, and had accepted that invitation which is invariably extended to those whom chance or purpose finds in Russian homes at the dinner hour, so that the dinner table was unusually large and brilliant. "Yes," said Count d'Annenkoff in the course of conversation to the Gorodanachal- nik, or Governor of the City, * * there is a great deal of disaffection just now among the students ; my nephew Boris here may perhaps have something to say on that subject. He is a student of the Corps des Mines." Finding all eyes turned toward him, Boris broke off a conversation with his cousin Vera. "I I have not observed anything, your Excellency," he replied unsteadily, in answer 52 THE LEVELLER 53 to a somewhat gruffly worded question put to him by the Governor. "How is that?" interposed Count d'Annen- koff with the polished politeness of his best diplomatic manner, and a smile steely in its coldness. "There are several members of a new secret society right in your class; in fact " The Governor gave Count d'Annenkoff a warning glance and the latter hesitated and then added blandly : * ' You are devoting yourself too thoroughly to your studies, I suppose. ' ' "I am," Boris replied quickly, then he added proudly, ' ' and in any case, knowing my connections, my views and my sentiments, you can readily suppose that no matter what may be the secret intentions of my classmates if they be as you state I am the last person they would divulge their plans or inten- tions to. ' ' "The boy is right," said the Governor bluntly. "Perhaps," Count d'Annenkoff remarked with a shrug, "but their zeal for proselytizing may get the better of their good sense, and if so, Boris, you will, of course, listen to all they have to say and inform us." 54 THE LEVELLER The young man's face flushed darkly. "I would hardly like to do that, mon oncle," he said after a short pause and very positively, "it savors too much of espionage of underhand dealing. I " "Ah, you think so!" murmured his uncle blandly. And with a short, disagreeable laugh, General Gresser, the head of the Secret Police, remarked en passant. "You would treat these canaille as gentlemen?" Then looking around the table, he said sarcasti- cally : ' ' Your Excellencies, we certainly can- not look to Count Gourowsky for any infor- mation on this subject." The tone of the General's voice was ominous and pointed, and judging by the quick frown given him by his uncle and the glances he met on all sides, Boris became painfully aware that he had keenly dis- pleased all those present by his answer. He threw back his head indignantly. "What do you want of me?" he asked, un- abashed. "I am no detective to spy on my friends." "But you are a loyal subject of his Im- perial Majesty?" queried the Governor with emphasis. "Most certainly." THE LEVELLER 55 " Boris," said Count d'Annenkoff in a tone one would use to a naughty child, "that will do." Puzzled and annoyed by the incident, Boris, a moment later finding himself ignored, continued his interrupted talk with his cousin and forgot the incident. Dinner over, making his excuses to his aunt, who did not interrupt her conversation with a high State dignitary, but gave her nephew the tips of her fingers languidly and almost disdainfully, he hurried from the palace and found himself after a short drive before the house of Louboff Malkiel, on the Moika. Once there, for several minutes he stood outside, hesitating about entering. A whole army of prejudices seemed to halt him. He thought of his parents, and dead and living hands seemed stretched out to retard his progress. What was he doing! Ignoring his mother's warnings and even her com- mands; forgetting the principles his dead father had so carefully instilled into his mind. To enter the house of a Jew as a guest! he, Boris Gourowsky? It was incred- ible! What was he doing? What sense was there in it? 56 THE LEVELLER Were not the Jews the bitterest enemies of his race, the curse of his country, the mockery of his religion? He coughed and frowned impatiently, then Louboff's flower- like face rose before him and the desire to see her again, to know more of her, grew with him. "Bah!" he said to himself impatiently. "I am going in to hear her music; what harm is there in that? The Jews have always been musical ; Eubinstein himself is a warm friend of the Tsar, and of all the Grand Dukes; he used to be a friend of my father's. Why should I hesitate about seeing Louboff? Principles and prejudices are all very good at times, but there comes a moment when to push them becomes silly. It is the music it is Louboff the musician, and not the Jewess, I go to see," was the thought that consoled him and swept away the last fragment of his hesitancy. He pushed open the door, saluted the dvornik carelessly, and then walked upstairs trying to feel comfortable and at ease with his conscience. Seeing the name "Malkiel," he rang a bell and a servant opened the door. Taking his coat and cap from him, he ushered Boris into TEE LEVELLER 57 a plainly furnished living room where two elderly persons of decided Jewish cast, a man and a woman, were playing cards. The former got up nervously on catching sight of the tall, soldierly young man, then he came forward civilly, and when Boris in- troduced himself, Mr. Malkiel murmured his own name and with a backward movement of his head to his partner, who still held her cards in her hands, said laconically: "My sister. ' ' Boris Alexanderowitch smiled at seeing so many expressions in the face of the Hebrew before him; first fear, then caution, then surprise, then gratification. "You thought I was after your wealth; one of those that Louboff told me of to-day. Well, I am glad you were frightened, if only for a second. How many unfortunate vic- tims have you squeezed in your time?" Boris thought to himself maliciously, even while he bowed politely. Then Michel came in, after him a servant with a samovar, and last of all, Louboff, de- mure and lovely in a gray frock. Boris refused the glass of tea Louboff offered him, on the plea of just having finished dinner, but as she insisted, he took 58 THE LEVELLER it and put it on a small table; then he sat down on a stiff chair and began to study the first Jewish family with whom he found him- self on terms of comparative intimacy. "How horrible! How horrible they are!" he thought disgustedly. "The old man Mal- kiel cannot' look me straight in the face, and his sister, fat and greasy, ugh, how ugly!" Boris grew more and more ill at ease. He began to upbraid himself for coming. The guttural accents, the whine in their voices and the peculiar gestures of hands and arms grated on senses otherwise attuned. In des- peration, he turned to Louboff and tried to ignore them. But they would not be ignored. They plied him with questions, and the elder Malkiel, stretching forth a long, thin hand, grabbed that of Boris Alexanderowitch, and touching a handsome cabochon emerald ring which the latter wore and which had belonged to his father, said with envious delight : "Oh, the beautiful emerald! A most rare stone. I have never seen such a stone, and emeralds are so dear now that ring must be worth fifty thousand roubles easily. If ever you need money, well " Boris' nerves seemed at the point of crack- THE LEVELLER 59 ing. Sell his father's ring? Boris almost snatched his hand away. Louboff knew her father was doing his best to be polite, for to comment on his possessions, to value them highly, to a 'Rus- sian Jew, is to gladden him exceedingly, but she saw the scorn and anger in Boris' face and not quite understanding why it should be there, she stood up hastily and said: " Father, we will not disturb your game. Come, Boris Alexanderowitch, I promised to play for you. The music-room is quite a distance, at the other end of the apartment, so that my practising will not disturb the family. You will come, too, Michel?" she added, turning to her brother. "In one second," he assented. As they went along Boris was struck by two things the largeness of the apartment and the increasing luxury of its furnishings. From the first room they passed into another similar in character, then into a well- stocked library with magnificent black carved Norman oak furniture and hangings of yellow satin ; from that to a salon with Louis Seize decorations, all gilded mirrors and whiteness, then through a smoking room luxuriously appointed in Oriental style, fol- 60 THE LEVELLER lowed by a dining room of magnificent pro- portions, where rare old silver, family portraits, Flemish furniture, rugs, porcelain, cut glass and splendid coppers gave an air of opulence and luxury that came as a sur- prise to the tall young Russian. This room led into a music-room, the walls of which were done in panels, the polished floor reflecting the Chippendale furniture. Here and there priceless rugs were placed, great jardinieres of palms, or roses in full bloom, and some bowls of old Crown Derby filled with bunches of lilies and violets per- fumed the air delightfully. In old cabinets were housed Louboff's collection of original manuscripts and auto- graphs, and the oval mirrors had candelabra filled with unlighted wax candles. A harp, several violins, a violoncello, a double bass, quaint balalikas, some guitars, lutes and mandolins, with an organ and two grand pianofortes, completed the furnishing of a room that delighted Boris Alexandero- witch. He could not keep back an exclama- tion of surprise and pleasure. "Ah, you like my room," she said, laugh- ing. "You see, it is at the end of the apart- ment, away from the living rooms, so that the THE LEVELLER 61 others may not be disturbed by my practising." "It is indeed beautiful," Boris said. "Much better, at least, than the one we left," she continued. "That is kept ugly for papa's tormentors. You see, we dare .not keep anything pretty or valuable where it could be seen, for one of your Kussian officials would be sure to pounce on it and order it sent to his home." Boris looked incredulous. Louboff Antonivna noted this and shrugged her shoulders. "Ah, you don't believe me. Well, never mind; I assure you it is true, alas." Then she went over to the pianoforte nearest her and seating herself, said questioningly : "What shall it be, preludes or nocturnes? I am in humor for either." Without waiting for his reply, she began to wander from key to key, and over her lovely face there came a rapt expression that absolutely glorified it. Boris stood at the end of the pianoforte, without troubling to find a seat, so absorbed was he in the music. Like pearls the notes of the first prelude fell under her fingers. From prelude to prelude she passed, playing 62 THE LEVELLER the last more beautifully, it seemed to him, than the one before. And all the time she warmed more and more to her work. Boris had all the Kussian's inborn love of music; trained to it and understanding it, he listened entranced. He kept his eyes fixed on her bent head, against its background of, roses, and hardly dared to move. Amaze- ment and delight and, finally, an ever in- creasing enthusiasm, took possession of him. "She is not only beautiful and clever, but she is an artist," he told himself. "What does it matter, with that gift, her being a Jewess? And I, with my prejudices and notions, came near losing all this! She will go to Berlin, to London, to Paris, and how they will fete her." All that is beautiful in Chopin's music; the pathos, sadness, revolt; the beatings of a heart that knew love in its subtlest and most ethereal phases, with all the consequent longings, bitterness and outbursts of suprem- est joy, were revealed in Louboff's music; and then her technique, its finished elegance and completeness were not lost on Boris. "Michel is only twenty and she is younger. She cannot be over eighteen. It is marvel- ous, unbelievable," he pondered. THE LEVELLER 63 Louboff had reached the great E flat pre- lude. She commenced it with splendid bravura. Her flying fingers seemed to sweep the keyboard. Then suddenly they struck a false note. She looked up at him and frowned. It was the first false note and the only false note, but it annoyed her and sent the blood flying to her face. For a few moments she sang the joyous melody, and Boris listened and looked and found the maddest ideas rushing through his brain in tune with the music. The ecstasy and dreaminess of it all ! When the last note was struck, she turned to him, tired and happy. He rushed up to her, caught her two hands, and raising them to his lips, covered them with kisses. "Oh, Louboff Antonivna, you play di- vinely ! You have given me the greatest hap- piness of my life." She listened, blushing. "It is so good of you to say so, ' ' she whispered. "Good!" he echoed in amazement. "But where did you get it all; surely not on earth?" "Anything that is good in my playing belongs to Rubinstein our great Eubin- 64 THE LEVELLER stein," she said with a smile adorable in its malice; "yet, he is a Jew." "Oh," said Boris, laughing outright, "you cannot forget that." "No, I cannot." "Ah, Louboff Antonivna, you make me feel ashamed. There are Jews and Jews; I really see I have been making a mistake. Perhaps if I listen to your beautiful music much longer I shall come round to your way of thinking." Louboff 's impulses were always gracious. Again she gave him both her hands. "Boris Alexanderowitch, you are atoning nobly; if only some day you might." Boris smiled enigmatically, and at that moment Michel entered. "It is snowing hard," he announced glee- fully. "It looks as if you would have to re- main here. Those students' rooms of ours are so bleak and comfortless. I certainly will not go to the Wasily Ostroff to-night. What do you say, Boris Alexanderowitch, had you not better remain ? ' ' "Thank you, I am not afraid of cold," the latter said, rising; "and if it is snow- ing hard I had better be going. Some other time, Louboff Antonivna, if you will THE LEVELLER 65 allow me, I would like to come again." "Oh, any time," she assented graciously. "But won't you stay? The Nicholaiffsky Bridge is bad at all times, but to cross it on a night like this " ' ' I shall think only of your music. ' ' "You must not count on it to perform miracles," she insisted, archly. "The memory of its magic will banish all discomfort. ' ' Leisurely they walked through the suite of rooms to the outer hall, pausing here and there for Boris to note or admire some piece of china, a picture or rare curio. She arranged to take him the following evening to Eubinstein to dinner, and he arranged to take her in the afternoon to the service in St. Isaac's. He was glad to find the old people had finished their game and had retired for the night. Their presence had been the only dis- cordant note of the evening. It was quite ten. minutes till Boris finally ended his adieux. "Au revoir, Boris Alexander owitch, " she said, her head outside the door, as he de- scended the staircase, her eyes bright and shining, her face flushed with happiness and excitement. 66 THE LEVELLER "Au revoir et a bientot, Louboff Anto- nivna," he replied, and the smile each gave the other was magical in its effect. Only when his footsteps had died away and ceased did Louboff close the door, then lingeringly and preoccupied, she went toward the sitting-room. A peremptory call from Michel made her finally hurry. "Well," he said, when she reached the room where he was, "you managed pretty finely. What do you think yourself?" Her face changed as she shrugged her shoulders coldly. "He is a great Jew hater; it all depends on what you want me to do." "That I will tell you later." "Do not count on much; you might as well try to corrupt the Tsar himself as the incor- ruptible Boris Alexanderowitch. " "Corrupt?" he echoed laconically, and he gave her a glance of surprise that confused her. "Well, bring him to your way of think- ing," she stammered. "Love is a mighty leveller of prejudices, and you you made a decided impression on him, and he he made a decided impression on you, ma belle." "Nonsense!" cried Louboff angrily. THE LEVELLER 67 Then, eager to change the conversation, she said crossly: "I hope your plotting does not get me into trouble. We were followed from the Corps des Mines right across the river here." Michel bit his lips. ''You were, eh I Well, as long as you did not deliver the papers, and you were not arrested, and found with them, it is all right," said Michel, yawning. "You don't want to have another try at delivering them to-morrow? They are two passports for men that are in grave danger." "Most assuredly not." Again Michel glanced at her sharply. "What! Has Boris Alexanderowitch made a proselyte already?" "No, but I am not going to run any such risk. No theory or fact is worth the sacrifice of a human life or human liberty. I won't ever go on such a mission again." "Not for a while; you would make a bad envoy if you invite surveillance so easily," sneered Michel. "There is one point I wish you would try and find out from Boris Alex- anderowitch to-morrow," he added, trying to make his tone light and inconsequential. "Does his uncle leave Petersburg Thursday or Friday?" 68 THE LEVELLER "Because Count d'Annenkoff goes with the Tsar?" "Because nothing at all, Mademoiselle," retorted Michel sarcastically, but the expres- sion of his face changed instantly and she saw it. Then after a pause during which brother and sister glared at each other, Michel said sneeringly: "Go to bed now and get your beauty sleep, and dream, if you like, that you are Countess Gourowsky. ' ' Louboff tossed her head indignantly, nevertheless the sound of the name was pleasant to her ears. "An impossibility an utter impossibil- ity," she told herself. "Still, life is full of them and if he wished it, ah, if only " CHAPTER VII. When Boris Gourowsky left the house of the Malkiels his brain was in a whirl. No vehicle was in sight, so down the Nevsky, all along the Quay and over the Nicholaiffsky Bridge he trudged to the "Wasily Ostroff, in- different to the cold, the blinding snow that pelted his face like sand, and the gale blow- ing in wildly from the Gulf of Finland. When he reached his lodgings he sat down to his nightly task; a letter to his mother. Ordinarily it was the pleasantest of duties, but on this occasion he got only as far as the opening phrase of endearment; then he paused. Sitting, pen in hand, he pondered how best to tell her of Louboff, and her music, and how also he came to make her acquaintance; but the more he pondered the harder seemed the formation of the phrases with which to express his own ideas. There was absolutely no use, none what- ever, he decided at last. She would never understand, never, never. She would think the end of the world had come, that he, her 70 THE LEVELLER son Boris, was on terms of intimacy with a Jewish family. It would only annoy her, worry her, make a misunderstanding. No, he had better wait; better say nothing at all. He sat going over the events of the evening, and LoubofPs lovely face in all its expressiveness, its haunting melancholy, its wistful repose, was ever before him. His letter to his mother had brought mem- ories of his home to him; he contrasted it with Louboff 's home and found it for the first time sadly wanting. He wondered how Louboff would like Gourowsky. He fancied himself showing it all to her, walking by the lake, where the lilacs blossomed so beauti- fully in spring time. He thought of the place in the scorching summer, when acre after acre of ripening wheat lay golden in the sun- shine, and again it was the weird, silent solitude of the moonlit woods in winter time. The house, he told himself, would look very poorly furnished and uncomfortable to her. He thought of the old square pianoforte in the sitting-room ; that, he decided, would have to go, and a grand pianoforte be substituted instead. If he suggested such a change, how would his mother take it his mother, who practised THE LEVELLER 71 the most rigid economy in order that she might build the schools his father was so set on. Then he lit a cigarette and laughed at himself as an imbecile. "The little witch! She has hypnotized me with her music and her beauty. It is absurd, fatal; what am I thinking of?" Outside, the wind whistled and howled, and he listened to it dreamily. Then a vision of Louboff converted to his faith, of Louboff a bride, his bride, came before him and he plunged his face in his hands. "Am I crazy, or what?" he asked himself, horrified. "It would kill my mother; my father would turn in his grave Louboff Mal- kiel, Countess Gourowsky! A Jewess in my mother's place!" He began to undress in a hurry, like one who tries to get away from his thoughts, and, putting out his light, he at last fell into a sleep filled with dreams of Louboff and her music. Next morning when Boris found the un- finished letter to his mother and remembered that for the first in his student life he had disobeyed her commands, a great wave of remorse swept over him. He thought of her far away in the interior, 72 THE LEVELLER far away from the joys of civilization, sacri- ficing herself completely for others, without relaxation or amusement or even comfort, and when he recollected that her one pleas- ure, for which a man drove daily some fifteen versts, his letter, had been denied her through his carelessness and selfishness, the recollec- tion caused him a bitter pang of remorse and self-abasement. He looked up at the care-worn face smiling benignly at him from her portrait ; the glance of the gentle eyes seemed to pierce his soul. "And all for a woman whom I only met yesterday; a Jewess at that! Only be- cause she is young and pretty!" he thought ashamedly. "I do not deserve such a mother,'* he mur- mured to himself aloud, while a thousand instances of her kindness and thoughtfulness flitted before his mind's eye. He ran over the salient events of the dinner of the pre- vious evening at his uncle 's house, and sitting down he wrote a detailed account of the per sons he had met, winding up with news of the bitter cold and the terrible snowstorm that had suddenly fallen on the city, hoping that the last item would account to her for the delay of his letter. THE LEVELLER 73 Boris then turned to his studies, but study and himself for once were altogether at vari- ance. Calculations and mathematical prob- lems swarmed before his eyes, a meaningless jumble of figures. He would concentrate his interest only to find, the next instant, his thoughts wandering to Louboff, her music, or their digression on the Jewish question. He made his tea stronger than usual, smoked cigarette after cigarette, left his books and began pacing up and down his room, all in an effort to settle his thoughts and control his ideas; but his efforts were futile. Louboff 's voice, Lou- boff 's face, Louboff 's personality would not efface itself; it followed him persistently, surrounded him, overwhelmed him. He tried to laugh, to reason with himself, but thoughts of a future with her beckoned him and lured him in spirit. A future where the other half of him, that other half so dreamed of in youth, would be the girl he had met but a few hours previously, the Jewess, Louboff Antonivna. The more he thought of this possibility the more the dreamer and fatalist, so strong in the personality of all Russians, asserted itself. "If it is love," he soliloquized, "well, 74 THE LEVELLER then there is nothing to be done; and if she loves me " The mere idea set his blood afire. He thought of her in her pretty abandon when she had given him her two hands to kiss ; he thought of her as she had been when stirred to deep emotion by the loveliness of Chopin's music. He thought of her as she might be if, loving and loved, she would yield herself to his embrace in their betrothal kiss. Agitated beyond control by this thought, he tramped the floor of his little room heavily. A servant brought him his breakfast ; he left it untasted. Then he began to count the hours. Someone whom he was afraid might be Micnel let himself in, and, climbing the two flights of stairs, knocked at his door, but re- ceiving no answer, went to the rooms be- neath MichePs rooms. One o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock; how the hours lagged. At four o'clock he was to meet Louboff at St. Isaac's, and, finally, when the clock struck the quarter past three, he got into his heavy military coat and went out. Once in the keen, frosty air he felt calmer. "Maybe," he told himself, as he trudged along in the snow, "she won't be the same as yesterday ; maybe I will wake up to find it all THE LEVELLER 75 a dream, a fantasy. How can the mere thought of a woman work so much mischief, cause such havoc in one's feelings? Mentally and morally I am a wreck. I neglect my studies; I neglect my mother the best mother of all mothers. What does it mean? I am not myself; I have lost my self-control, my will power; I am as one fascinated, be- witched, hypnotized; all the teachings of my father go down as snow before a fire. I must pull myself together. I must, I must,'* he repeated vehemently to himself, and then he laughed. "But it is so good, the feeling so good, so natural," and back again, unhindered and untrammeled, he let his thoughts rove to memories of the night be- fore, singing snatches of the preludes to him- self as he went along. He was waiting in front of the great cathe- dral when he saw her sleigh turn the corner, and at sight of her his heart began to beat more rapidly. He could feel the warm blood mount to his face, and when he felt the soft warmth of her gloved hands in his, as he assisted her from her swathings of fur, every nerve in his body thrilled with a new and exquisite pleasure. * l She is lovelier, lovelier by far, more ador- 76 THE LEVELLER able than I thought," he decided. "Ah, the world well lost for love! I love her. It is really love. She is my fate. ' * "Have I kept you waiting?" The musical voice sounded a little tired and weary to his ears. It brought him back to earth. "No, it still wants a few minutes to four. The service has not yet commenced." "You will tell me what to do I have never been to one of your services ? ' ' she said, with a tinge of alarm in her glance. * ' Of course, I will tell you what to do, ' ' he whispered gleefully, and then they passed in, side by side, to the splendor and solemnity of the vast cathedral. Boris bought two candles, and lighting them from the sacred taper, handed one to her; then crossing himself, Russian fashion, from right to left, he prostrated himself, touching the floor with his forehead. Louboff stood by amazed, and the glance she gave him was one almost of scorn. "Kneel, Louboff Antonivna," he com- manded a moment later, and, obedient, she knelt. Just then the music of the male choir echoed in the semi-darkness, and after a THE LEVELLER 77 while, Boris led her forward to the holy gate. Here they took their stand; Louboff, when her eyes, accustomed to the blinding glare of the snow outside, got their focus, taking in the luxury of color with delight, all the while feeling her senses beguiled with the har- monies floating dreamlike about her. The music of the men's voices, deep, sonorous, penetrating, unaccompanied by in- strument of any kind, rose and fell in cadences of exquisite beauty. Louboff, Voltairian by instinct and educa- tion, cynical as to religion, found her soul suddenly bathed in a sense of peace and ecstasy, greater than she had ever known, different, too, in sort and condition. She caught the glitter of precious stones in the sacred picture^ the sheen of gold and silver and bronze ; the softness of lapis lazuli and marble. The flicker of countless candles seemed to mesmerize her. The voices of the priest and his attendants, the answering chorus of the singers, the whole wonderful tableau of the ceremonial caught her fancy and captivated it. About her were old men and young women, children, monks and nuns, many with beauti- ful faces; all in attitudes of absorbed devo- 78 THE LEVELLER tion, and over all somewhere in the mystic beauty of the wonderful building the presence of a power, unknown, unrealizable, almighty, beneficent, gracious and just, hovered in majesty and made itself known to her. The candle in her hand sputtered and shook because of her emotion; the air, heavy with incense, made her feel faint. All at once the scene seemed to fade farther and farther away and an impressive silence fell on the listening crowds as the sacred doors of the altar opened. "It is the prayer for our Emperor," whis- pered Boris at her side, and his face was illuminated with an emotion that transfigured it. His voice brought her back to reality. "The prayer for our Emperor " the words fell on her ear like a knell. Horror and execration ! The prayer for a ruler that she loathed. The prayer for a ruler that oppressed her race so grievously. And she must listen to it ! Her blood ran cold, her heart beat madden- ingly, and only by the supremest effort did she restrain herself from rushing out. A priest came forward in the stillness, his gold and silver garments glittering in the candle light. Aloft he carried the sacred THE LEVELLER 79 volume, and in a deep basso that seemed to make the very air tremble he commenced a long recitative while the people prostrated themselves. He was answered by the choir, at first soft and sweetly, then in motives of triumph. The service was over, and guided through the crowds by Boris Alexanderowitch, Lou- boff found herself outside in the darkness, grateful for the cold crispness of the snowy air. Around the cathedral all was bustle and confusion. Sleighs and troikas drove up with their bell-bedecked harness; a wonderful moonlight lit up the snow-covered city, and above, in the dark blue of the sky, innum- erable stars twinkled coldly and brightly. Boris found a sleigh and handed her in. "How did you find it?" he queried, as he put his arm about her. "Don't don't ask me anything now," she begged nervously. "I want to think." He acquiesced wonderingly, and in silence they drove to the house of Anton Rubinstein. CHAPTER VIII. On entering Kubinstein's study Boris Alex- anderowitch was conscious of a dim, mys- terious interior and a feeling of intense awe. About the " wizard" of the pianoforte, or the "demon," as many called him, strange tales had circulated in Eussia. In their sanest moments Boris Alexandero- witch was aware that artists were queer creatures, perverse, unsatisfactory, and whimsical; but press agents or silly friends had spread so many weird tales about Anton Eubinstein's temper, his fantastic ideas, his Tsar-like haughtiness, and his overwhelming personality and magnetism, that Boris, as he caught sight of the back of a bent figure with elbows on the writing table, brooding, mel- ancholy, the light falling on the leonine head, so picturesque and powerful, experienced a strange thrill of fear, the thrill of one who comes face to face with something immutable and grandly majestic. As he went forward he felt himself an in- truder and an outsider before the shrine of so THE LEVELLER 81 art, and his presumption at being there con- fused him. "Is it you, Louboff? I know your step, do I not!" queried the great artist kindly, with- out troubling to turn around. "Yes, Anton Gregoriewitch, it is I, and I bring you a surprise the son of your old friend, Count Gourowsky : Boris Alexandero- witch. ' ' Eubinstein rose at once, and first kissing Louboff on the mouth, the privilege of an artist; came forward, his left arm about her, and extending his hand, said with the stately courtesy so characteristic of him when host in his own house, as he bowed before the young man : "Boris Alexanderowitch, you do me an honor; your distinguished father and I were old friends, and it gives me great pleasure to welcome his son." Then releasing Louboff, he came closer to Boris, and placing his two hands on the lat- ter 's shoulders, said quickly. 1 ' The image of your father, the very image. Gott! how time flies. Some twenty years ago I spent a summer at Gourowsky and you were an infant in long clothes. Bah I it makes one feel old and old age is the curse of mortals; 82 THE LEVELLER the curse that comes to us all with time." Then bluntly he demanded: "And how, may I ask, did you two meet ! ' ' "Why, through her brother, a classmate of mine," replied Boris quickly, seeing that Lou- boff seemed taken aback by the question and mortified as well. Anton Rubinstein's sur- prise brought home to her the social gulf ex- isting between her, a Jewess, and the aristo- cratic and highly connected Count Gourowsky. "Ah," said the master, glancing from one to the other questioningly ; then he went back to his seat by the writing table and, humming, drummed on the green baize of the table with his fingers, while Louboff talked to him of various musical events. The utmost sympathy seemed to exist between master and pupil. Once he kissed her bare arm in the hollow of the elbow, and when he caught Boris' look of surprise and even displeasure, the great man smiled maliciously. "When I kiss her warm young flesh I think of spring," he said musingly. "Ah, how wonderful is woman. ' ' A guest entered: one of the Grand Dukes, and behind him Markoff, the painter, some half dozen followed in quick succession. THE LEVELLER 83 As the doorbell continued ringing, Eubinstein turned to his guests with a smile. "It is lucky if we get anything to eat," he said with serio-comic gravity. "My man Matve came to me this morning to know if I had any idea how many I might have. I hadn't, so he said as the weather was so bad he would only cater for twelve. We are fifteen already, and if some half dozen others ar- rive, and they may it still wants five min- utes to six I am afraid starvation awaits us." "Oh," said Louboff, "your cook, Anton Gregoriewitch, is always ready for an emer- gency ; we have never yet gone hungry, and I know, for I dine here several nights a week, ' ' she added, turning to the Grand Duke, who, much to the annoyance of Boris Alexandero- witch, had succeeded so far in monopolizing her attention. A few minutes later Rubinstein's solemn- faced servant appeared in the doorway. "Your Excellency," he said, bowing to Eubinstein, and with an accent on the ' * Excel- lency" a title then recently conferred on the great Russian composer by the Tsar that caused Rubinstein to wink knowingly at the Grand Duke. ' * Dinner is served. ' ' 84 THE LEVELLER "Thank God!" ejaculated Rubinstein glee- fully, and he jumped up, ran the fingers of each hand through his hair; then shook his head like a big dog, and putting his ever- present cigarette case in his coat pocket, went in through the salon, where two grand piano- fortes stood, to the dining-room. Rubinstein led the way with the Grand Duke ; the others following without ceremony. At the head of the table Rubinstein stood a moment. "Your Imperial Highness," he said, bow- ing to the Grand Duke, ' * you here, ' ' pointing to the place on his right, "and you, Made- moiselle, here, ' ' he added, nodding to Louboff, and indicating the place on his left ; then turn- ing to the others, he said with a comical ges- ture and a laugh: "Place yourselves as you will. I dare not take the responsibility of seating such a distinguished company. Paint- ing or music, poetry or prose, which takes precedence? Fight it out among yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, and excuse me. I value my life and your friendship," he added, laughing loudly over his own little joke. Boris Alexanderowitch was the first to step into the place beside Louboff, and with a THE LEVELLER 85 merry jest the others seated themselves, Bubinstein at the last moment commanding the painter Markoff to take the foot of the table, in order to separate two singers. "Two tenori," he said with mock terror. "Markoff, you must separate them or there will be bloodshed. Markoff, you are big and burly, I beg of you be my vis-a-vis. ' ' Contrary to Eubinstein's fears, and as Louboff had predicted, the dinner was excel- lent in every respect. Conversation was gen- eral and ranged over a variety of subjects: Tolstoi's book of the hour, the "Kreutzer Sonata," which, having been proscribed by the Russian censor, a copy in manuscript had been passed round among the author's friends, and having been read by Bubinstein and several of those at the table, was made the subject of an especially hot discussion. "What rot it is," said Bubinstein empha- tically. ' ' Tolstoi knows as much about music as my cook. I have never known a novelist who could write intelligently on music, and if my advice were asked, it would be that the first rule all of them ought to follow is to leave music alone." ' ' Still, ' ' said a meek voice at the end of the dinner table, its owner a mystic and follower 86 THE LEVELLER of Tolstoi, "the psychological question is ex- cellently and beautifully treated, and like all his works, the 'Kreutzer Sonata* is wonder- fully written. " "Bah," said Rubinstein contemptuously, and with a quick show of irritation, ' * why call it 'Kreutzer Sonata?' Nevsky Prospekt would do as well and have as much meaning. A work like that is vicious ; hundreds of ignor- ant readers will be misled as to the meaning of one of Beethoven's most beautiful works. Ah ! the power of literature, who can fathom it. For this reason this MS. of Tolstoi's is a crime against art, and for the first time in my life I agree with the censor. As to the psy- chological question," he said, with a shrug expressive of great disdain, "well, everyone to his taste ; to me his premises, his reasoning and his conclusions are ridiculous. ' ' Arbitrary by nature, Eubinstein had a way of cutting short any conversation or con- troversy that worried him, and turning to Boris he began to ask questions about his mother and her work at Gourowsky. Suddenly he turned to the table, and fixing his eyes on the Tolstoi advocate, he said loudly: "You talk of Tolstoi, you call him a great philosopher. What, may I ask, has THE LEVELLER 87 he done? I know of nothing on his part greater than many Russians, looking for no recognition, doing nothing but their duty, have done. "Now, here," he said, pointing to Boris, who looked up startled, and finding the gaze of all bent on him wonderingly, grew very red, "here, in the father of this young man we find a truly great Russian ; a man who worked for his country and died for it. I speak of Count Alexander Grourowsky. Him I call a patriot, a builder of schools, a man who gave his time and his fortune to the greatest of all causes the cause of education." There was a general assent; Rubinstein went on to relate incidents worthy of eulogy in the life of the dead Russian, and hearing his father praised, brought tears to the eyes of Boris Alexanderowitch. The talk drifted to education, and Rubin- stein, as head of the Conservatory, bewailed his difficulty in finding students willing to take positions in the interior or Siberia. "No, no," he cried angrily, "they huddle in the cities and starve, half of them, when they could do good elsewhere and be well paid for it." "Still can you blame them?" asked the 88 THE LEVELLER Grand Duke, his aristocratic features drawn in a faint smile. "Surely I can and do," Eubinstein retorted tersely and with a brusqueness to which the Grand Duke was evidently unaccustomed, judging by the shadow that flitted over his face, to be replaced instantly by an expression of haughty placidity. "He who cannot sacri- fice himself for his art is no artist, and as Kussians, the musical future of their country should be of paramount importance to every musician. "We are only in our musical infancy," he continued forcibly; then, pausing, he said in a lower tone, "the infancy of a giant. The future rests with us, and if only for this rea- son every young artist should be ready and willing to give ten years of his life to mission- ary work. "Thirty years ago St. Petersburg was a musical Sahara, and were it not for the efforts of our beloved Grand Duchess Helene, and the group of young artists she inspired, matters would be scarcely better to-day. Now, we are leaders; we have the finest conservatory in the world, and our composers compete with the greatest. That which has been done for St. Petersburg and Moscow remains to be THE LEVELLER 89 done for each of our cities. The people are hungry and thirsty for music; applications for teachers come to me from all over; ab- normal salaries are offered, and I cannot sup- ply the demand by half. Yet it is rather to the advantage of young artists than to their disadvantage, the getting away from a great city, away to the wilderness; there they can develop their gifts undisturbed, learn to rely on themselves, and if they only give ten years, why, then they could come westward with the money they could save and do as they please." "But," said the painter Markoff, with a shrug of horror, "it would be as bad as im- prisonment. You want martyrs, Anton Gre- goriewitch, not artists; it would be a living hell." "My dear Markoff," said Anton Rubinstein earnestly, "an artist, a musical artist, carries his heaven with him. Give a pianist his pianoforte, a violoncellist his violoncello, a violinist his fiddle, and you give him the best life has to offer." "Anton Gregoriewitch, " said a young man suddenly, whose pale face, disheveled locks and dreamy expression denoted the artist at once, "I will take that post you spoke of 90 THE LEVELLER to-day at Tobolsk, and I will take it at once. I will try to live up to your teach- ing." A flash of exceeding joy illuminated Rubin- stein's bright blue eyes. He stood up at once. "Camarade," he said feelingly, "I drink to your health, and your success ; we shall all drink to your health and your success. ' ' For a few minutes the young man was the cynosure of all eyes, as those at the table, following Rubinstein's example, clinked glasses with him. "A decision like that deserves an order," said the Grand Duke cordially. "Many have got it for far less, and I shall see that you get it, Pavel Petrowitch." A burst of handclapping greeted the Grand Duke's statement. A little later, Rubinstein gave the signal; dinner was over, and they trooped back ; some remaining in the salon, others going to the study where Rubinstein, from preference, al- ways sat. After smoking a cigarette quite a number left, and Rubinstein was just about to sug- gest cards, when Pavel Petrowitch came up and stood hesitating beside him. THE LEVELLER 91 "What is it, my son?" asked Rubinstein affectionately, as he laid his hand on his. ' ' I must go soon. I shall have to catch the train for Moscow ; to say adieu to my mother and pack up my things but, Anton Gregorie- witch, do grant me one favor, I beg of you; let me hear you play just once before I go, to carry it as a last memory to the wilder- ness.'.' Eubinstein pouted his lips like a child in anger, flung the hand he was holding away from him with that petulant annoyance that had given him the reputation of having a bad temper; he paused as if about to say some- thing, while the others looked on expectantly, then he rose smiling, and went straight to the pianoforte. A hush fell on the roomful of people ; any- where and everywhere they seated them- selves. Gasping at the audacity which prompted the request so unexpectedly granted, for Rub- instein disliked playing in his own house, Louboff ran forward to open the pianoforte and took her stand a little behind the pianist, the better to follow his pedaling and meth- ods, till the Grand Duke, seeing she was with- out a seat, pushed forward the stool he was 92 THE LEVELLER sitting on and accepted a seat from someone behind him. At the scratching sound over the polished floor, Rubinstein turned impatiently and frowned, then out of the trancelike stillness there came the tones of most searching beauty, the opening phrase of Chopin's Bal- lade in F, with its oft repeated first notes, its entrancing harmonies and wild sweetness of melody. Once, bending his head backward, to Log- off, Rubinstein whispered gallantly in her ear: "Thou, Louboff dearest." The subtle compliment, overheard by the Grand Duke and those nearest the pianoforte as Rubinstein intended it should, sent the blood flying to her cheeks till they were as red as the rose in her hair which Rubinstein had given her at dinner time. "It is true," he added, without a pause or break in the loveliness of his playing, "this melody is you." Then such was the beauty of that touch like unto no other, the most wonderful and magical gift which has since passed into a proverb that she and all the others lost all sense of time and place, even of their own THE LEVELLER 93 personality, as Bubinstein, full of the frenzy of his incomparable art, conducted them to realms of fancy outside things earthly and beyond reason. The room was only dimly lighted, but sil- houetted against the paneled walls, Bubin- stein 's massive head rose strongly; his face pale and demoniacal, his eyes half closed, his lips compressed, the marvelous fingers obey- ing unerringly the dictates of his extraordi- nary musical instinct. The pathos-laden melody of the Cantabile rose and fell, now loudly, now softly; the harmonies here and there being accentuated as the genius of the player fancied, and those who heard him oftenest knew that Bubinstein was in the throes of one of his most inspired moments. His fingers seemed rather to caress than strike the keys, and the very soul of the in- strument responded passionately. The beautiful Cantabile finished, at a tempo that took away the breath of his hearers, Bubinstein dashed into the maze of chords and chromatic passages following with a frenzy that was indescribable. The pianoforte became an orchestra under his fingers, and all that was passionate and 94 THE LEVELLER temperamental in his nature seemed to have burst its bounds. The Agitato, the most poig- nant in music, passed in one mighty rush of sound, and then once more tender, palpitating with emotional beauty, wistful, heart- search- ing, the plaintive Cantabile sounded, grew fainter, still fainter, and finally died away in the veriest whisper. Eubinstein waited for no applause. With head thrown back, sardonic of countenance and eyes gazing into space, he commenced to wander rhapsodically from key to key and at last began to play one of the Chopin Ma- zourken. His audience hung on each note. From mood to mood he passed, now grave, now gay, and those listening found the epi- tome of Poland's wrongs, Poland's woes, her sorrows, her greatness, and her inimitable poetry. Throughout, Bubinstein played so beautifully that a little Countess from War- saw wept silently. The Mazourken finished, he gave them the great Sonata in B minor, the stately Polon- aise in F-sharp minor, and then his humor changing, he sought relaxation in some of the Preludes, passed from these to the Berceuse, and wound up with the Scherzo in C-sharp minor. THE LEVELLER 95 In the middle of the latter piece, Louboff caught sight of Matve's head in the inner room. Stealthily and with footfalls as light as a cat, she crept there. Matve had the sam- ovar in his hand and was about to bring it in when she motioned him to take it back. ''But, barishnya," he whispered pleading- ly, "it is nine o'clock and I have Anton Greg- oriewitch's strict orders." ''Hush! Hush!" said Louboff, and she pushed him back all the way leading to the servants' quarters. "I will tell you when to come ; I will tell you when he is ready. ' ' When she reached the salon, she looked anxiously at Eubinstein, afraid lest the evi- dent charm under which Kubinstein was laboring so grandly might have been broken, but she saw he was oblivious to all happen- ings; living once again through the triumphs that had marked his appearance in every city of Europe. "What a pity, what a great pity," she thought with a sigh, "we are so few to hear him! For less than this people have gone wild with enthusiasm, unharnessed the horses of his carriage to carry him on their shoul- ders through the streets and cheer him to the echo." 96 TEE LEVELLER All at once he paused. "Well, sir," he asked of the young pianist, Pavel Petrowitch, "are you satisfied?" * * Satisfied ? More than satisfied, as I have never before been satisfied, Anton Gregorie- witch, and still I would ask a favor. Let me hear your own Barcarolle the Barcarolle in G-major." Eubinstein shrugged his shoulders; then light as thistledown floated out the wonder- ful double notes, the song in the tenor rising clear and strong, triumphantly beautiful in its expressiveness, deeply tender in its pathos. Over Rubinstein's mobile face as he fin- ished there passed a shadow ; he put his finger to his lips in thoughtful attitude, then he commenced the great Wanderer Fantasia of Schubert. Tired with the emotions of the hour, Loub- off slipped away from her stand in the door- way, and with a smile of welcome Boris Alex- anderowitch made room for her on the lounge in the study, over which a picture of Lermont- off's Demon hung. A worshipper of Schubert, Rubinstein went through the Fantasia in a fashion that held his listeners breathless; bringing home to THE LEVELLER 97 them as it did, in piercing accents, the in- effable beauty, the nostalgia, the heartsick- ness, the wistful longing of a composition unique in its tone painting. Slowly to all assembled the seconds laden with their divine harmony passed, and to many it seemed as if the beauty thrust upon their tense and straining nerves was more than their emotional natures could stand. From stage to stage Kubinstein led them on, and when he finished a stillness, prolonged, profound, greeted him as he rose from the pianoforte. Eubinstein himself broke the spell. ".Well," he cried, laughing as he gazed at his audience, huddled together, speechless with delight and surprise. They crowded round him to tell him of their gratitude, but he laughed again and waved them back. "I played for myself to-night," he said; then an expression of ecstasy came over his face as he added solemnly, "Ah, music, music! You painters, and poets, and writ- ers, you give us only part of things ; we musi- cians give it all. The final word; that that alone is ours. ' ' A clock struck the hour of ten. 98 THE LEVELLER "Ten!" he said incredulously. "Three hours of music!" Then clapping his hands Eastern fashion he cried : "Matve, Matve! Where is the fellow? How many times must I tell him I drink my tea at nine!" Just then Matve appeared, samovar in hand. "Your Excellency, your Excellency," he be- gan, "it was the barishnya, she " "Yes, yes, blame me, Anton Gregorie- witch," Louboff cried, running up to him. "I sent Matve away." Kubinstein caught her in affected but play- ful anger and crushed her head against his heart, then bent and kissed the top of her head affectionately. "You meddle in my household affairs, you minx ! * ' Her hair caught in the button of his coat. Boris Alexanderowitch and the Grand Duke rushed to her assistance. "See," said Rubinstein, "what your vanity of woman does. Wear your hair short like mine. ' ' Some time later, after all had taken at least one glass of tea, and several more, the Grand Duke stood up. THE LEVELLER 99 "Anton Gregoriewitch, " he said bowing formally, every one standing up with him; "I know your inflexible rule: bed at eleven; it now only wants a quarter of that hour, so I must make my adieux." Taking his host's hand, he raised it to his lips, which Rubin- stein tried to prevent, but the Grand Duke in- sisted, and as Eubinstein, as is the custom, kissed him on the forehead, the former said : " Anton Gregoriewitch, thank you, and thank you again. This evening will remain in my memory forever, and be an always un- sullied source of delight and artistic grati- fication. ' ' It was the signal for a general movement of separation. Five minutes later the ante- chamber was filled with departing guests, Matve helping them into their shoubas and pocketing his pour boire with grateful alac- rity. Louboff remained to the last, and with her Boris Alexanderowitch. The latter was about to put on his cloak, when Eubinstein said quickly: "Don't go; wait. There is still time, five minutes yet," and he laid his open watch face upward on the table. "Anton Gregoriewitch is the soul of punc- tuality," said Louboff smiling. "His day is 100 THE LEVELLER divided into hours for this and hours for that." "Don't forget, Louboff, to be here to-mor- row evening. You will play the Kreutzer Sonata with Markowitch everyone wants to hear the Kreutzer Sonata now, since Tolstoi discovered it, so much for fame and if there is time I will go through your concert pro- gram for Berlin; you are practicing well, I hope?" Before Louboff could reply, Eubinstein turned to Boris Alexanderowitch. "And you, sir," he said cordially, "do not forget that I am always at home for dinner, and will be de- lighted to see you as often and whenever you care to come here." He looked from one to the other of the eager young faces bent toward him ; then aloud and as one who speaks to himself, he ejaculated passionately: "God, what would I not give to be as young as either of you!" "I " said Louboff. "We " began Boris, searching for some remark to pass off the awkward silence that ensued. "Come, children," said Rubinstein with a deep sigh, rising, "one minute to eleven." He walked with them to the door, waiting while THE LEVELLER 101 Matve cloaked them. Just as they were leav- ing he called Louboff back and whispered something in her ear. She blushed rosy red, struggled from his embrace and fled to Boris Alexanderowitch. Eubinstein stood laughing, his leonine face lit up with sardonic glee at her confusion. When she reached the landing he shook his clenched fist at her, then Matve closed the door, they could hear him bolting it, and the two young people, feeling very much excited and unusually happy, descended the stair- case. "What did he say, Louboff Antonivna?" Boris asked curiously. ' * Oh, I cannot tell, ' ' she replied, the fading blushes reappearing in her cheeks again. "He _he "What?" insisted Boris coaxingly. "He told me to beware of you." 1 1 To beware of me 1 " he echoed. Louboff put her hands to her ears. "Oh, hush, hush," she cried in distress, then she laughed in quite an hysterical fashion as they went out into the street. The air was bitterly cold, the sky clear, the stars bright, and the moonlight deeply blue. Not a sound disturbed the silence of the nar- 102 THE LEVELLER row Troitsky Pereulok where Kubinstein dwelt. Boris went forward and throwing off the fur coverings hiding a huddled figure in the bottom of the sleigh, the only sleigh in the street, said sharply: "Hey there, you! What do you mean, my friend, sleeping here and your poor beast uncovered? You will roast in the hot hell for this, you hear me, I tell you so. A night like this to leave your beast uncovered!'* The iswostschik jumped to his feet, stiff and cold. "Uncovered," he murmured, just catching the last word. "Yes, and in this fearful cold; fifteen below zero, at least. Have you no heart for the dumb creature t ' ' " Oh, " said the fellow stupidly. ' ' Yes, it is cold, but Eurik is used to it." "Used to it! Yes. He will drop dead at your feet some night he will be so used to it." Until the poor animal had thawed out his frozen limbs they went slowly all the whole length of the Troitsky Pereulok, but as they turned into the Nevsky Prospekt and neared the Grand Ducal palace of Sergius, the ani- mal took on a better gait. THE LEVELLER 103 All this way Boris said nothing, but at the Anitchkoff Palace, the residence of the Tsar, Louboff said quickly and almost petulantly : "What is it, Boris Alexander witch? Why so silent?" "Yes, and I have so much to say." He drew her closer. "So very much," he added in French, "and yet so little, Louboff Antonivna, because " he paused, trying to straighten out his thoughts, "you flurry me so ; you have bewitched me. ' ' "Boris Alexanderowitch, you jest!" Her glance was frightened; the solemnity of his tone had done this. Her whole body trembled beside him ; he could feel her breath- ing in her excitement. 1 1 No, I am in earnest, in deadly earnest, Louboff Antonivna. You have a terrifying no, a beautiful, an adorable influence " " I, a Jewess ? You, eh all your ideas ! ' * 1 1 They are dead, Louboff Antonivna. They " he tried to think of something to say, and finding nothing in his confusion of spirit, bent down and tried to catch her glance. Suddenly he knew what he wanted to say, but the words absolutely refused to come to his lips. It seemed as if some spirit influence kept them back, froze them, ere they could be 104 THE LEVELLER spoken. The look on his face told of his de- sire. Dazed, confused, more utterly frightened than ever before by the sudden rush of happi- ness that had overtaken her, Louboff gazed back at him, and the memory of his voice was sweeter to her ears than even the music of Eubinstein. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Is this real!" she asked herself ecstatic- ally. They had reached her house on the Moika and he was thinking of how he had hesitated only the evening before about entering it. "Where shall I see you to-morrow?' 7 If she had doubted before, the tone of his voice and its intense eagerness, she felt con- vinced of his sincerity, for he kept her hand in his as they crossed the entrance hall. "Meet me in St. Isaac's at ten." Her ready acquiescence enchanted him. "Yes, yes, at ten." Then he raised her hand to his lips and began kissing it. "Boris Alexanderowitch, I hear a door open above; they expect me to come up. I must go alone." He was about to kiss her hand again, but THE LEVELLER 105 she tore it quickly away and ran up the stairs. Michel met her on the threshold of the apartment. "Well, well," he cried, gazing into her lovely face, dazzlingly beautiful just then with its confused blushes and the unearthly brilliance of her large Oriental eyes, his own face white, pinched and excited. "What is it?" she faltered. "Did you find out?" "What?" she gasped. "The date of d'AnnenkofFs departure?" "Oh, Michel, I I forgot!" An oath, loud and terrible, fell from his lips. "You traitor! You cursed snake!" he cried, his eyes blazing, his hand clenched threateningly as he rushed toward her. CHAPTER IX. "Tell his Excellency I have come on im- portant business.** It was nine o'clock, the day dark and gloomy with one of those leaden skies which make St. Petersburg, for months at a time, unutterably sad and dreary, driving all those who can get away to the sunny skies and warmth of the Riviera or the Crimea. The hour was unusually early for Russian cus- tom: the better classes scarcely ever rising before noon. The servant made a low bow to the Gover- nor of the city an official whose word is law and whose mere figure strikes terror to the hearts of the lower orders and having re- moved his Excellency's sable-lined shouba, the man showed him into the study and then went to find Count d'Annenkoff's valet to learn if his master was awake or could be awakened. "The Governor to see me !" cried the Count incredulously, as he glanced at the timepiece nearest his bed. "His Excellency? Good! THE LEVELLER 107 Tell the Governor I will be with him directly. ' ' Count d'Annenkoff dipped a towel in per- fumed water, drew it across his face, smoothed out his hair, wrapped the dressing gown handed to him about his portly form, and sat on the edge of the bed while his man servant drew on his hose and slippers. All the time he was whispering to himself. "What can have happened? Alexei Alexei- witch to be out of bed at this hour! Nine o'clock. This must be important business." And he began wondering what it could be. A few minutes later he was shaking hands with his guest. "Why, Alexei Alexeiwitch, this is a charm- ing surprise. Ah, I see you have vodka. Can I offer you anything some breakfast?" "Thank you, no. A glass of tea with you, if you take it." "Of course." And the servant lingering at the door went immediately to fetch the brass urn so characteristic of life in Russia. "What horrible weather!" Count d'Annenkoff looked up sharply. Surely his guest had not come to speak of the weather. It was disagreeable enough without discussing it. 108 THE LEVELLER "Yes. Horrible, horrible!" ''It will be a miracle if Melba can sing to- night. You go, of course?" "Most assuredly. Who would miss Melba?" Then the Governor began chatting of various social topics; and St. Petersburg is ever a seething pit of gossip. The Minister of the Interior heard Him patiently, not show- ing his inward curiosity at the cause of so early a visit. A servant made tea and handed it to them, lit the candle on the writing table so that the two men could light their ciga- rettes without the effort of striking a match, and only when the door had closed behind the footman did the Governor cease gossiping. "We are alone?" he asked, glancing at the door leading into another room. "Absolutely. But prevention is better than cure," laughed the Count, jumping up with alacrity and going to the door. "Abso- lutely," he said again, as he closed the second door. Then he went to the big, leather-cush- ioned armchair by the table, and seating him- self comfortably therein, began to play with the tassels of his robe de cliainbre, anxiously awaiting what was coming. "I came," began the Governor, his air be- THE LEVELLER 109 coming more businesslike, "on account of your nephew." "My nephew f You mean Gourowsky? What of him?" asked the Count, astonish- ment showing in his haughty features. The Governor fumbled in his coat pocket for some papers, which he laid on the writing table. "It is anything but pleasant." The Count glanced at the bundle, then he said breathlessly: "You don't mean to say he is implicated in the Wasily Ostroff affair? You cannot mean " "I am afraid so. It is a case of cherchez la femme. He is altogether in the toils of the Jewess, Louboff Malkiel, sister of one of the ringleaders. Here are the papers setting forth his surveillance. "He was in her company Tuesday and Wednesday. He was seen speaking to some of those suspected in St. Isaac's Thursday morning. He sent her this letter a copy, of course Thursday night." With a hand shaking more or less from agitation, the Count took the letter and read as follows: * ' Dearest Louboff Antonivna : "What has happened? I waited for you 110 THE LEVELLER three hours at our place of rendezvous and am overcome with apprehension and fear. What prevented your coming? I also waited outside Rubinstein's door all the evening ex- pecting you would go there, but to no avail, and now I sit here eating my heart. What is it? What am I to think? For heaven's sake, answer this. I do not make light of the diffi- culties besetting our path, but I can assure you every pulse of my heart beats in affection for you. I await your answer with impa- tience. Yours, "Boris." "All this means what?" Count d'Annen- koff raised an ashen face to the Governor. They had been comrades in arms, and spent their school years together and were more like two brothers than friends. "I fear, only too plainly, that Malkiel has succeeded in contaminating his mind with revolutionary ideas." "And the fool! To write such a letter such a letter to a Nihilist! Why, Siberia is written across it in letters of flame!" "Were he not your nephew " "And these Malkiels why are they not in chains ? ' ' demanded the Count hotly. ' ' What have we got our fortresses for? Ach! The THE LEVELLER 111 accursed Jews! Why must our holy Russia be burdened with them. Aliens, traitors, breeders of discontent ; why do they not go to their Jerusalem ! Why stay in a country that loathes them!" ''For the best of all reasons: What would they do there? On whom would they fatten?" "Why, I repeat, are the Malkiels not in chains 1 ' ' the Count inquired angrily. The Governor lit his cigarette noncha- lantly. "Haste is not always a wise handmaiden," he began sententiously. "Many more than the Malkiels are implicated in this affair and we want to round up the whole herd. Besides we are studying their methods. Then, too, we still lack documentary proof against Michel Malkiel still need proof against those connected with him. Your nephew is a fool, and were he not your nephew, as I was going to say before, he would certainly be in chains in the Petro Pavlovsky fortress now. But this Malkiel is a very different fellow a cun- ning, crafty plotter. Two of my men are in his house; they examine his papers daily, but he has all the natural wiliness of the Jew. He slips through our fingers in the moment 112 TEE LEVELLER when we seem to have him most securely, and he can do this principally because he has such a clever tool in the person of his sister Louboff." "And who is this Louboff? Young, of course?" "Yes; more. Young, beautiful and a very clever pianist; a pupil of Kubinstein. ' * "Alexei Alexeiwitch, if this matter comes to the knowledge of anyone, I am ruined. My nephew faugh ! It is sickening, and it comes it all comes because of my sister and her philanthropy. Educating the children of the peasant and neglecting her own son. What business has Boris Alexanderowitch over in the miserable student, Jew-infested lodgings of the "Wasily Ostroff? What business, I ask?" The Governor puffed away at his cigarette, then, removing it slowly, he made a gesture with his hands. "None whatever. The best thing you can do is to take him away from there as quickly as possible. Anything may happen any min- ute. Our men have Malkiel pretty well trapped. His surveillance has been complete, and the hatchet will fall when he least expects it. Get Boris Alexanderowitch away; send THE LEVELLER 113 him across the frontier for a time. Do what- ever you think best, but do it quickly." The Governor stood up. "No, no," said the Count with more show of perturbation in his manner than the Gov- ernor ever remembered seeing before; "you must not go yet. Another glass of tea. And this thing : tell me some more about it. How long has it been going on? Since when have you been forced to have Boris Alexandero- witch shadowed?" "Only within the last few days. Before that his conduct was exceptional. We watched him, of course; we watch all of them," said the Governor with a shrug. "But we never found anything not even a note from a woman and young men will be young men, you know. He seemed the student, pure and simple, and if all of them had been like him my sleep would have been easier. But you see, even the best of them fall. Youth is so hot headed and stupid. I was simply stag- gered when I got these papers last night. ' ' "Well, I will act at once." "Good, there are the papers; you know what to do. Destroy them if you see fit. Such things are best destroyed. I will give you as long as I can." 114 TEE LEVELLER The Governor moved to the door, and Count d'Annenkoff saw him to the ante- chamber, where a footman cloaked his depart- ing guest carefully. " Au revoir, Alexei Alexeiwitch. A thou- sand thanks for your courtesy. ' ' "Pas de quoi, mon ami. I regret having to wake you up at an hour so unearthly." Count d'Annenkoff walked back to his study slowly, and having given orders not to be disturbed till his secretaries came at twelve, he sat down to a quick consideration of the whole matter. 1 'Could Alexei Alexeiwitch be trusted I Could anyone in Eussia be trusted?" This was the first thought that presented itself, and it formed the basis of his reflections throughout. Nothing but the presence of the papers left behind by the Governor served to allay his fears. That he was surrounded by enemies, po- lite of mien, suave of voice, copious in the wiles of flattery and strategy, all awaiting an opportunity to hurl him from his present high favor at Court, he knew. Just such a chance as this presenting itself in the escapade of his nephew Boris was exactly what they were watching for and would surely pounce on THE LEVELLER 115 with avidious glee. Long years of diplomacy had trained the Count in distrust, and had also taught him the uselessness of a man who had fallen from grace to expect the smallest mercy. The friendship, therefore, of Alexei Alexei- witch had not touched his gratitude; it had only alarmed him. One thing above all : he must lay his plans carefully; and as to Boris, he certainly must not excite his suspicions or let him suspect that Government spies were in the secret of his plottings. This last, he told himself, would be hard to manage, but he felt sure at the same time his diplomacy was equal to the task. Count d'Annenkoff wrote a letter to his sister. It was a peremptory command that she come at once to St. Petersburg and that she lodge in his house; one of the apartments of which he would place at her disposal. The letter also contained the information that Boris had a flirtation with a young Jewess, the Count strictly enjoining his sister to keep this piece of news to herself, and more espe- cially its source. This letter Count d'Annenkoff was far too astute to intrust to transmission by post. He 116 THE LEVELLER knew the workings of Russian officialdom too thoroughly. He rang for his servant and directed that one of his confidential chasseurs be sent for. When the latter arrived, he handed him the letter, telling him to take the first train to Gourowsky, to deliver the letter directly into the hands of the Countess, to wait till the lady was ready, return with her and act as her courier. Next, Count d'Annenkoff dashed off hastily a note to Boris, asking him to call at his earli- est convenience. Another chasseur left with this note, and then the Count rose, satisfied, having mapped out his whole plan of cam- paign. By this time it was twelve o'clock. He saw his secretaries on several matters of State business, then he put himself into the hands of his valet to make his toilet for the day. This was elaborate. After a bath in aro- matic herbs, with several atmospheric changes, there was the masseur, who rubbed oils and liquids into his body for almost an hour ; then the manicure took him in charge ; next his barber, whose sole duty in the house- hold was the shaving of his master, and lastly his valet commenced his dressing. TEE LEVELLER 117 Dressed, Count d'Annenkoff gave several small orders, lastly one to his florist and con- fectioner for the forwarding of flowers and candy to one of the celebrated actresses of the French theatre. His domestic duties being finished for the day, Count d'Annenkoff descended to his wife's salon to await the announcement of luncheon, and entertain any guest she might happen to have. It was a matter of surprise to him to find her alone. His daughter Vera was lunching out, so he seized the occasion to confide to the Countess the plans for his sister's arrival. She gave but one ejaculation. "Mon cher ami!" she cried slowly, but it was expressive of keen displeasure. Then she sat silent, lis- tening to his explanations, knowing her own displeasure was futile so far as he was con- cerned. When Count d'Annenkoff gave an order in the household it was final. So far as social matters went he never interfered, never sought to restrain her liberty in any way. He had the utmost confidence in her good taste and in her good sense. "It hardly befits our station," he went on in his bland, formal way, "to have Boris 118 THE LEVELLER Alexandero witch in Wasily Ostroff. Several persons have commented on the matter, there- fore I have made the arrangements I speak of. At the same time I do not care to take upon myself the responsibility of looking after him. Young men will be young men, you know, and it is best his mother look after him, as it is her duty she should. It will not put you out any way. I have selected her apartments and will attend to the getting of servants, carriages and all necessities." * * She will necessarily be much with us, and her monde is so stupid," murmured the Countess poutingly. "You will find all the philanthropic cranks in St. Petersburg dining at your table." ' * Oh, no, ' ' said the Count quickly ; ' * I shall provide against that. She will have her separate menage and can entertain whom she pleases." The face of the Countess brightened. She had imagined an arrangement of a much more intimate order. "Then you intend she remains here?" "Yes, as long as Boris is a student." Then from sheer gratitude at her ready acquies- cence he had expected at least strongly voiced disapproval he said confidentially: THE LEVELLER 119 "There is much disaffection among his classmates, and for my own sake I intend to keep him clear of all suspicion in that re- gard. ' ' "You are perfectly right, and as wise as usual, mon ami/' she said, with a flash of her still beautiful blue eyes. Then luncheon being announced, they went to the dining-room together a state of affairs that had not existed in a twelve- month. CHAPTER X. The note from Count d'Annenkoff reached Boris Alexanderowitch about three o'clock, and he tossed it aside impatiently. He was then in a state of mind bordering on frenzy. Michel had not been to his lodgings in the house, and all Boris' efforts to hear of Loub- off or see her were in vain. She had not re- plied to his note in any form, and he had spent the morning in St. Isaac's on the mere chance of finding her there. Having eaten nothing since the day before, he had just arrived home, tired, hungry with- out wanting to eat, and dejected beyond com- parison. The more he thought the matter out the greater became his confusion of mind. After a while he glanced again at his uncle's note. "I should like to have a talk with you as soon as possible. Call this evening before dinner or to-morrow before luncheon. "Annenkoff." Boris wrinkled his brows. What could his uncle have to talk to him about? All at once a horrible suspicion drove the color from 120 THE LEVELLER 121 his face, and he stood up in agitation. In a town like St. Petersburg, where espion- age is complete, there are no secrets. What if his uncle knew of his affection for Louboif 1 Boris realized his power; realized, too, that in a case where Count d'Annenkoff's own family and prestige were concerned his uncle would use this power ruthlessly. What if Louboff had been taken away sent to Si- beria to Schlusselburg ; murdered? He clenched his hands in sudden agony and began to pace up and down his narrow room restlessly. So complete was the jangle of his nerves in that moment that a knock at the door made him cry out in startled alarm. It was only a servant who came with luncheon and the samovar. The sight of the familiar and rosy, smiling- faced woman in her bright dress and red and white dotted kerchief, tied over her thick blond hair, relieved his feelings. "Thank you, Natascha," he said in his normal tone, and he sat down, feeling the color come back to his face. "You haven't," he asked as the woman set the table, "seen anything of Michel Antonowitch?" "No, barin; he has not slept here in three nights. ' ' 122 THE 'LEVELLER She went out, and he uncovered the viands before him. ' ' I must eat, ' ' he told himself. ' ' After all, why should there be any coincidence in this strange silence of Louboff 's and a letter from my uncle? I am simply weak-headed from loss of sleep and want of food. I will eat now," he concluded, and, sitting down to the big plate of soup, he finished it. Soon he felt better, and such is the buoyancy and the need of youth that he began to enjoy his food and even to find it scanty. He cleaned everything from the dishes bread, meat, vegetables then he made himself several glasses of tea, and began to smoke, for the first time in twenty-four hours, with pleasure. A dozen possible causes of Louboff 's si- lence presented themselves. She might be test- ing his affection ; she might not be sure of her own mind; she might perhaps be ashamed. Boris himself reddened at the ardor of his wooing, at the meaning and passion he had put into his kisses. He certainly had been effusive, and then she was an artist ; she might at first resent his occupying her attention in any degree. A friendship between them was surely unwise. THE LEVELLER 123 So many family and artistic difficulties pre- sented themselves. "Yes, yes," thought Boris; "it is all very awful. No two in all Russia could face greater obstacles than we: class hatred, pre- judice, ambition, family pride, all are arrayed against us; but it is love, and that in itself says everything and is an excuse for all things. And love, if it be great enough, can break down any and all barriers. She may be testing me ; she may be testing herself, per- haps, but there is no escape no escape for either of us. ' ' One thing, however ; I must not let myself go as I have in the last few days. God is good. Time unravels all tangles.'* He got up, stretched himself with a feeling of great satisfaction, and, dressing, went out. He reached his uncle's house as the clock struck five. That he was expected was evident, for he was shown at once to his uncle's study, where he found the latter with a mass of legal papers before him to which he was affixing his seal and signature. "Ah, Boris! Good-evening. I am glad to see you come so promptly. You got my letter, of courseT' 124 THE LEVELLER "Yes, mon oncle." "Well, take a seat. I want to have a long talk with you, even if I must meanwhile go on with these tiresome documents. As you will soon know by experience, I hope, official life means much more than gold lace and emoluments. Make yourself comfortable ; be- side you are the cigars and cigarettes, and the liquer decanters as well.'* Boris sat down. "Now," began the Count, "I am aware of the bequest left you by your father ; I am also aware that the Gourowsky revenues are not what they were when my sister married your father. But, as you know, my wealth has been steadily increasing, and I have but one daughter; so I have decided to make you an allowance. "I have been greatly pleased with your in- dependence and pluck, in finding lodgings in the Wasily Ostroff and living there. It was very noble of you, my boy, considering that you had the money to live otherwise, yet pre- ferred to devote it to your dead father's philanthropic schemes ; but it is about time I came forward. "Now don't thank me, and do not flush up and tell me you are content and prefer inde- THE LEVELLER 125 pendence. Independence is a great thing, to be sure, but, my dear Boris, which of us is really independent? Not one of us, not even the Tsar himself. Now you are of my own blood my heir, in fact, if anything, which God forbid," cried the Count as he crossed himself piously, turning to the ikon before which a silver lamp was burning, "should happen to your cousin Vera and my plan is this ; I have already written to your mother ; she is coming here." "Coming here!" gasped Boris. "Yes ; she will be here by next week. I am having an apartment fitted up in the house for her for both of you and on the first of each month my steward will hand you a cheque for a thousand roubles. ' ' Count d'Annenkoff smiled blandly as he looked at the amazed and silent Boris. * * You see, ' ' he went on, signing the papers, and tossing them to one side uninterruptedly, * ' everything depends in St. Petersburg on the keeping up of appearances. You have your career before you and it is doubtless brilliant. Your father's name alone will insure that, but it is only in youth real friendships are formed, and I want you to keep up with your own set, and this you can only do by having 126 TEE LEVELLER a few roubles in your pocket to spend and by spending them. 1 1 Women do not understand these things; I speak to you as man to man. Now, to-mor- row I want you to go and choose your horses you will stable them here, of course, with mine and if you do not find a thousand roubles sufficient for spending money, why, you can always come to me and I will be your banker. ** Boris listened absently as one in a dream. What was the matter with life suddenly? He found himself in love ; here was his uncle offering him, even pressing on him, a small fortune, and his beloved mother was coming to St. Petersburg. "But, mon oncle, how can I ever thank you ! Such generosity I do not deserve it. I hardly feel as if I dare accept it." "Yes," laughed the Count's bland, well- modulated voice, and to Boris it sounded far away and unreal. "But I mean you shall. It is for my benefit as well as yours. I cannot have a nephew over in Wasily Ostroff, so look on it as my affair entirely and that the service is altogether a benefit to me rather than to you. ' ' "But this goes beyond generosity.** TEE LEVELLER 127 "Nonsense, my dear nephew; it is only duty. Now, go to your aunt, and, of course, you will remain to dinner. Alexei Alexei- witch and some others dine here." Boris stood up. "Yes," he said absent-mindedly. Then he caught his uncle '& firm white hand in a cordial grasp of gratitude. "Well, run along, my boy; I am very busy," the latter said apologetically, seeing that Boris still hesitated. Then tapping a bell, two secretaries came forward, carrying between them a well-filled basket of letters and public documents. Boris saluted and went out. He made his way slowly to the salon, hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry at his uncle's generosity. CHAPTEB XI. During dinner Boris could not prevent his attention continually wandering from the subjects discussed by those around him, and his neighbor, a well-known society woman, used to being admired and amused, was quite annoyed at finding his remarks so often at random. He was placed opposite the Gover- nor of the city, and more than once he found that high official studying him intently. At first Boris felt somewhat conscious and confused under the scrutiny, then it occurred to him that Alexei Alexeiwitch and his uncle were very great friends, so perhaps this bringing him to the house was a purport of further good fortune. Count d'Annenkoff, he knew, never made a move in the game of life that was not thought out and reasoned over. The Governor had many snug berths at his disposal ; he had the reputation also of liking young blood, so what more natural than that he would have in view isome such post for his friend's nephew! The more Boris pondered over this proba- bility the surer he felt about it, and his con- 128 THE LEVELLER 129 fusion increased under the searching glance of the stern blue eyes so often sent in his direction. He excused himself as soon as dinner was over, on the plea of an engagement, and, tak- ing an iswostschik, was driven to Rubin- stein's. Here fate seemed against him. The ante-chamber was crowded with departing guests, and Matve informed him that Rubin- stein had left five minutes earlier for the Con- servatory. Boris went away from Troitsky Pereulok very much dejected and depressed. Rubin- stein, he knew, if any one could, would of all others be the one able to give him news of Louboff; assure him as to her health and safety, at least. Not quite knowing what best to do, he walked slowly to the Nevsky, and had about made up his mind to call openly on Louboff she had certainly given him a cordial invitation right before her brother when the fear of causing her trouble in any way decided him to change his mind, and he hurried home in the hope of finding a note from her at his lodgings. When Natascha opened the door for him he inquired again if Michel Antonowitch was in, but Natascha replied in the negative. Then 130 THE LEVELLER he went to his room, and was further disap- pointed by not finding any note from Louboff. As usual there was the big, fat letter, directed in the bold handwriting he knew so well a letter from his mother lying on the pink blotting pad which almost covered the whole of his small writing-table. Something unfamiliar in the arrangement of his table made Boris wonder. His cigar- ette box had been tampered with and opened, and much of its contents extracted. Cigarette ash was strewn all over his papers, and some mathematical problems he had been working out or, rather, trying to work out that morning were scattered and disarranged. Taking up his mother's letter, and opening it, he found, greatly to his dismay, that it had been previously opened and only recently closed, for the gum on the edges of the enve- lope was still moist and stuck to his fingers. Boris sat up straight, startled completely out of his habitual composure. What did it mean? Thieves, or something worse? He drew his breath in several short gasps. If his latter suspicion was correct, then he understood why his uncle should be so anx- ious to get him away from the students ' quar- ter. Then that quick, keen thrill of fear that THE LEVELLER 131 shoots through every Russian breast be its owner ever so brave or innocent when it is a question of police surveillance, smote him badly. "But I am a Gourowsky! They could never suspect me," he thought, his face pale with apprehension. Then he looked at the enve- lope again, and, taking out the letter, tried to read it with attention, but found that the words and their meaning failed to impress themselves on his brain in any intelligible sequence. Then again he looked through it to find any trace of his mother's intention of leaving for St. Petersburg, but found instead every indi- cation that she would be busy for months with her work at Gourowsky. "I must get out of here as quickly as pos- sible," he thought; "that is certain. What- ever it is, thieves or police surveillance the one is as bad as the other." He sat down to plan out his packing. "I will commence first with these, ' ' he told himself as he opened the drawer of his writing-table, where a mass of papers were thrown. He began to sort them, and those that were to be destroyed he caught up and was about to burn in the stove when a note that had 132 THE LEVELLER fallen on the floor attracted his attention, and before stooping for it he placed the bulky bundle on the table and reseated himself. He read the note, then glancing at the let- ters to be destroyed, said lazily: "Natascha can do that to-morrow. If I open that stove I may not be able to close it again, and besides if I am under police sur- veillance, it is as well not to leave the charred remains of paper about ; it looks too much as if I had something to burn. ' ' A sound below caught his ear. It was the opening of the outside door. Then Boris could hear someone come upstairs and enter Michel's room. It was difficult for Boris to overcome a desire to go down on some trivial excuse and see him, so as to find out about Louboff. It would be very natural he should inquire about her no more than politeness on his part but then, he reasoned, he had never gone of his own accord to Michel's rooms, and if there was any unpleasantness about Louboff having gone with him to Bub- instein's and there might be Jews were just as anxious to prevent the friendship of their people with Christians as Christians with Jews why, it would only make matters still more disagreeable for her. THE LEVELLER 133 Then Boris remembered that Michel and he had a class to attend at eleven, so he de- cided to take no chances but wait till then. It was only a few hours more, he told himself consolingly, for, looking up at the clock, he saw it was almost two. Then he went to bed. For what seemed to him a long while he lay awake listening to the merry jingle of the sleigh bells outside, the shouts and laughter of roisterers on their way homeward; then, as in a dream, Boris, half asleep, heard more sleigh bells, till finally it seemed to him as if the whole street were alive with their music. There must be hundreds, he told himself, waking up. Yes, and they seemed to be stop- ping right outside the house. He could hear carriage wheels crunching, too, over the hard- ened snow; then he heard orders given and knew them to be military orders. He suddenly sprang to a sitting position in his bed. There was a sharp, stifled scream in the room beneath him Michel's room a scuffle, and several hoarse cries of rage. Boris jumped out of bed. The noise in the street grew louder each moment, and then the ominous click of sabres and spurred boots sounded outside on the landing. 134 THE REVELLER " Water! water! A bucket of water at once ! ' ' roared an excited voice. Could it be fire? The house was old and built of wood; a very tinder box for flame. He rushed to the door, unlocked it, but stopped short when he saw the landing. Soldiers were everywhere about. * * What do you want, young man ? Get back to your room," said a stern voice at his elbow, and a gloved hand grasped him rudely by the arm and thrust him back. Boris ran at once to the window. The house was built back in a garden and gave him a good view of the sidewalks. Soldiers were posted all about; groups of men were passing and repassing constantly. Then Boris saw a slight figure, half led, half pushed by two stalwart policemen down the garden path and up to a waiting carriage. It was Michel Malkiel. A pang of horror and even of pity smote Boris, much as he disliked his classmate, as he saw the unfortunate youth, bent and huddled with fear and terror, uttering piteous cries of despair, roughly thrust within the vehicle. Then the carriage drove off, and the next instant Boris turned round to find his privacy invaded by several uniformed men. THE LEVELLER 135 "Your name?" Boris drew himself up haughtily. "I am Count Gourowsky, Boris Alexander- owitch," he said calmly. "Your passport?" "In the drawer of my writing table." "Everything in this room belongs to you?" ' ' Everything but the furniture. ' ' "Officer, take all the papers." In a portfolio Boris saw all the papers he had intended to burn thrown carelessly. Then the men began a systematic search of his room, tapping the walls and the floors for places of concealment; searching his clothes and trunks, and even opening the stove to look for any traces of charred paper. With- out a word, the search over, the men left, and Boris, wrapping his dressing gown closer about himself and covering this with his fur cloak, sat down to think out what it all meant. Ten minutes later the chief officer entered unannounced. Boris saw he was a general. "Have you any statement to make any confession Bori s Alexanderowitch ? ' ' "//" The inflexion of scorn in the single vowel betokened all the young man's amaze- ment and anger. "Yes," replied his interrogator calmly. 136 THE 'LEVELLER "You; whom else? Am I asking questions of your stove or of your writing table ? ' ' "Most assuredly I have no confession to make, and any further questioning of that sort will be resented by me," cried Boris hotly. "I shall see my uncle, Count d'Annen- koff, about this in the morning." The officer shrugged his shoulders, and then for one awful moment Boris felt his heart die within him. Was he not altogether in this man's power? Was it wise, he argued, to anger so potent an advocate or witness for good or evil, as this general? Yes, it might even mean Siberia for him. "Show me your company and I will decide what you are" is the axiom Russian police have implicit faith in, and here he had been seen in Michel Malkiel's company; he had been in his rooms; visited his father's house. "Then you have nothing to say?" Boris could feel his heart beating violently, but curbed his anger. "No, your Excellency; I have nothing whatever to say." "So much the better," said the general lightly. Then he said affably (he, on his side, was anxious not to incur the enmity of a Min- THE LEVELLER 137 ister so great and powerful as Count d'Annenkoff) : " Spakoinee notch." "Spakoinee notch," echoed Boris, uncon- scious of the irony in the good wish for a peaceful night, as he bowed and returned the military salute. After that, Boris heard doors shutting below, the heavy tread of booted and spurred heels, of men evidently going the rounds from room to room. After an hour or so all was still, the noise of the sleigh bells sounded again and then passed away, leaving the street in the absolute stillness of early morn- ing. Boris sat on, too agitated and miserable even to light a cigarette. How was it possible that he should not have suspected it? Michel Malkiel a Nihilist, and Louboff? What was she! A fugitive, perhaps, or worse still a prisoner. How else could her silence be construed? In utter wretchedness and misery, with the memory of her lovely face haunting him, Boris laid his head down on his outspread elbows, and sitting the rest of the night before the writing table, dozed from time to time, only to waken again with a start of terror. Earlier than usual Natascha was about. 138 THE LEVELLER He could hear her below working. Then slowly she mounted the stairs, and he knew she was bringing him his samovar, for Boris was the first to be served, being the earliest worker. When she opened the door her round fat face showed white and agitated. "Ah, barin," she whispered. "Yes, yes, Natascha," he said soothingly. "Michel Antonowitch has gone." ' * I know, Natascha. ' ' "And they took a bomb out of his room. Oh, the poor misguided young gentleman! Only last night he gave me a rouble; see, I have it yet. I, myself, saw the bomb," she continued in an awed whisper. "I brought the pail of water and watched them put it in it." "I know; I know," assented Boris. "Ah, barin, you have not slept at all?" "Very little." "Nor I; nor I. It is a sad world, barin. Drink your tea, my pigeon; you look white and weary." "Weary, weary; that is- just it," he thought, as he tried to smile at the sympa- thetic peasant woman, so young yet so moth- erly, like all her class. "Yes, weary enough to die." THE LEVELLER 139 Then he drank his tea, and roused himself. "I must go to my uncle's house without de- lay, ' ' he mused, and began packing his books and clothes in a hurry. An hour later a knock at the door caused him to jump. A man servant was outside when he opened it and handed him a letter. The quick blood rushed to his face when, on opening it, he found it signed "Louboff." "Come to Eubinstein's to-night at eight. He will be out at a concert, but wait for me till I come. "Always yours, "LfOUBOFF." "At last," cried Boris aloud. He read the letter over and over again. Then he saw the man watching him, evidently waiting for a reply. "The answer is yes, and that I am de- lighted to get this note," said Boris, delving in his pocket for a fee, as his voice rang out clear, proud and strong for the first time in three days. CHAPTER XII. The hardest task Boris had ever lived up to was his class work the morning following Michel MalkiePs arrest. The mathematical problem swam before his eyes, and every time his glance fell on MalkiePs empty place a feeling of horror drove all else from his mind as he thought of what Louboff's anguish must be. Not a word was said by anyone in the class as to Michel's arrest, but the moment the lecture was over the students slunk away one by one, careful to avoid conversation; dis- trust and aloofness in the manner of each. Boris hurried to the house of his uncle, and after waiting an hour in the ante-chamber, was informed that the latter could only see him for a few moments. "Well," said the Count genially, after his usual polite greeting. "What is it, my nephew?" Boris hesitated. "Speak," cried his uncle testily. "We are not alone, mon oncle," said Boris in a low tone. 140 THE LEVELLER 141 With a wave of his hand the Count dis- missed his secretaries and then in a minute or two Boris related the events of the night be- fore and his indignation at being so uncere- moniously searched and questioned. "What a pretty dissembler we have here," thought the Count with gratification. ' ; Even knowing the facts as I do he almost convinces me." Then he commenced in his easy, quiet way to tell what he knew. His voice growing more stern as he proceeded. Boris could feel the blood recede from his heart as he listened. After all, how wise were the kindly warnings of his mother! "Boris," he heard the Count say. "You were with Louboff Malkiel on such and such a day; you wrote her this note" and then, relying on a marvelous memory, the Count gave him verbatim the contents of his letter to Louboff "and on Thursday morning you were speaking to well-known revolutionists in St. Isaac's Cathedral. How do you account for that? Your story is plausible, but "Malkiel is in irons, and you you are here before me now rather than with him because you are my nephew and I commanded it. "Now, let this be a lesson to you forever. 142 THE LEVELLER No matter what your sympathies may be, understand that you cannot cope with his Imperial Majesty's government. We know everything. Your private lives are open books to us, and if occasionally Nihilism does take a life, how many lives, may I ask, ' ' cried the Count, pausing impressively, "pay the price in all our prisons from St. Petersburg to Siberia?" Boris at last summoned up courage enough to allay his agitation, and in a voice trem- bling with reproach, he said spiritedly: "Mon oncle, you do not think that I, Boris Gourowsky, have been one of these revolu- tionists, or been in with them that I am a traitor to my Tsar and country?" Then, seeing that Count d'Annenkoff con- tinued staring at him, he went on, and without a shadow of prevarication told the whole truth of his love affair in all its naked simplic- ity ; how he met Louboff for the first time in her brother's room by mere chance; how it had been a case of love at first sight. Then he told of his visit to the Corps des Mines ; of her playing for him that evening; of taking; her to St. Isaac's; of the dinner at Eubin- stein's and the drive home; how he had an appointment with her the morning after at THE LEVELLER 143 St. Isaac's, and how he had asked some men there if they had seen her. The Count listened attentively, and con- cluded that Boris was speaking the truth. "Ah! So instead of Nihilism I come on la grande passion," he laughed. "Your first love affair?" he questioned sneeringly, as he glanced up at the handsome youth standing in his agitation and with the confusion of re- lating so openly his heart's secrets. "Yes, mon oncle," replied Boris. "Well, my nephew, it is only another proof of how careful one must be in the choice of one's associates. As to this love affair, that is ridiculous ; you will realize only how ridicu- lous when you meet your next divinity." Boris shook his head and smiled unbeliev- ingly. "Why, my boy, how many such affairs do you think you will have in your life? Hun- dreds. I am surprised only that you have commenced so late. At your age I knew as much practically as I do now. I have gone through the routine thoroughly, and I know. The first seems the whole universe, the second one begins to find out, and from that on it is only a matter of degree. One masters these emotions with each succeeding attack, and 144 THE LEVELLER you only discover what a farce it is when the years change your sentiments and you find that which you once loved madly, once could sacrifice all but life for, grown old and hor- rible and agonizingly unsympathetic. Yes, you will have to shake this little Jewess from your affections. She is undoubtedly a Nihil- ist, a tool of her brother; we have every proof of that, and being a good subject of his Majesty, I know you will. 1 'But we have been talking half an hour. I am glad to have your statement. I will see that you are protected from all danger. Send on your things here at once ; your apartment is in readiness for you." Boris, feeling himself dismissed, stumbled out like one in a trance. ' ' This is the worst yet, ' ' he told himself, as he hurried back to his lodgings. "Louboff a Nihilist !" For a long while he could neither think nor reason. He kept repeating the words : * * Lou- boff a Nihilist" over and over again to him- self aloud; yet, try as he would, he could neither put her from his thoughts nor hate her. The confusion of his ideas tortured him. His few belongings packed, he threw himself TEE LEVELLER 145 exhausted on his bed, half maddened by tharin, Anton Malkiel, had received a paper from the Ministerium and had hurried out," the servant told Lou- boff as he hung up their shoubas, side by side. The moment they were alone Boris put his arms about Louboff and they walked to the music-room. "Tea?" asked Louboff. "No, no, not unless you want it. I have something for you, what I told you of last night. Are you not curious?" Boris said, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out a small jeweler's case, and, opening it, flashed before her eyes her engagement ring. "Will it fit you? I could only guess, you know," he went on anxiously. "Oh, Louboff, THE LEVELLER 195 exact, exact!" he cried delightedly as he slipped the ring on her finger and found it fitted perfectly. "Sweetheart, it is a lucky omen," he said, kissing her. Louboff laughed. "But, Boris, what ex- travagance. It is perfectly beautiful, the loveliest ring I ever saw," and she turned the ring with its two diamonds and turquoise ad- miringly round and round her finger. "But," she went on, "to take so much money away from your philanthropic schemes at Gou- rowsky " Boris flushed. "Oh," he said quickly, ' ' that was bought with my uncle 's money ; he gave me a cheque yesterday for a thousand roubles. I live with him now." Boris then explained the causes of his moving from Wasily Ostroff. Louboif 's eyes were twinkling with inward and almost uncontrollable mirth. "If he knew," she whispered, and she flashed the ring back and forth in the sunlight, laughing. Boris caught her idea and laughed, too. "Now," she said quietly, "sit down; you must tell me all about last night. How was it ever managed? What luck is ours." Bit by bit Boris told his story, and this led him up to the scene with Rubinstein, of which 196 THE LEVELLER he gave her a mere outline, omitting many of the master's theories on marriage. "You must not mind that," she said soothingly. "Anton Gregoriewitch looks on me solely as a tool of art, a machine. You have no idea how he has made me work ; and then he fears all this to go for nothing that marriage would mean my returning to private life." Looking up suddenly she asked, inquietude in her voice, "You never intend that, Boris, do you!" "I I have not thought about it, Louboff. I all this is so new, so strange, it would be a queer thing for a Countess Gourowsky to play in public. But, dear," he added con- tentedly, "I will leave all that to you." She put out her hand and grasped his af- fectionately. "We will arrange all that later. I will make my debut in two weeks, and then we will see. I may be a rank failure. ' ' Boris shook his head decisively. "And our marriage, Louboff," he asked, "when is that to be?" "Oh, Boris," she sighed, and the shadows in her face deepened. "There are so many obstacles. There is your mother, your uncle ; I must go to Berlin, you have to finish your studies." THE LEVELLER 197 "That event," he cried quickly, "hap- pens this summer. After your debut in Ber- lin you play in several cities. Now after that?" "And that reminds me," she said, rising, "that I have to practice." "But you have not answered me," he in- sisted. She was smiling and blushing. "Well, in the summer then, but whatever you do keep all this from Anton Gregorie- witch. Just before I left him he was lectur- ing me." "As if he or any one could come between us," Boris cried, as he put his arms about her, and, lifting her face to his, kissed her on the mouth. She went to the pianoforte. Boris sat by the window while she ran through all the Eubinstein Barcarollen, and, as the afternoon wore along and it became evening, her mood changed and she became melancholy. Once she stopped in her music and said apprehensively: "I wonder what keeps Michel; you are watching for him, are you not? He will come from the Petro Pavlovsky fortress over the bridge; you can see him where you are seated. Such terrible dreams 198 THE 'LEVELLER as I have had, ' ' she went on, sighing, then all at once she ceased playing and came beside him. In the dim twilight of the snow-laden streets a hearse, surrounded by a company of soldiers, passed over the bridge. Louboff 's face had grown ashen pale. "Why does Michel not come!" she said in agitation. ' ' See that hearse ; it was so in my dream. But, oh, God, Boris, Michel was in- side it! I can see him still." Boris put his arms about her protectingly. "It is an old saying that dreams go by con- traries. A funeral means a wedding yours and mine, sweetheart," he said, trying to be playful. "Yes, yes; but did you never feel the loom- ing up of some terrible misfortune!" she asked, awe and terror in her hushed voice, her eyes looking straight into his. Her emotion seemed to infuse itself into his heart ; a strange feeling of creepy horror came over him as together they turned to watch the funeral cortege slowly moving. Louboff clutched him tighter. "Come, come," he said resolutely, trying to make his tone light and gay. "Why tor- ture yourself, sweetheart! See, here comes a sleigh and a student in it. In the dim light THE LEVELLER 199 one cannot be sure, but I believe it is MicheL Yes, it must be he." At that moment there was a ring at the doorbell. "Yes, oh, yes," cried Louboff, "it is; you are right. Oh, heaven, what a feeling takes possession of one at times. Come, let us meet him," and her face assumed all its wonted brightness. They hurried to the ante-chamber, and there they found not Michel, but an officer waiting. "Mademoiselle, Count d'AnnenkofPs com- pliments, Michel Malkiel is below," he said politely. Louboff brushed past him, crying, "Where, where ? Why does he not come up ? " and f ol- lowed by Boris, hurried downstairs. As her foot touched the last step she gave a great moan of horror and threw her hands above her head. Six stalwart soldiers were crossing the outer threshold carrying a coffin between them. CHAPTEE XVII. Before Boris could stop her, Louboff was by the side of the coffin and had read the name " Michel Antono witch Malkiel" at a glance. Then an unnatural calm seemed to take possession of her. She looked up at Boris with stony eyes as silently they followed the grewsome object of death. When they reached the apartment all was prepared in the chamber adjoining the ante- chamber; chairs were ranged against the wall, the center of the room was cleared. Only when the soldiers and undertakers crowded in did Louboff seem to realize her loss. ' * Oh, God of my fathers ! ' ' she cried in He- brew, as she stood by the coffin. "This is more than I can bear." Then the awfulness of her sorrow came home to her in all its force, and, throwing herself down on her knees, she rocked herself to and fro in her grief. Boris, unable to gaze on a spectacle he had no power to alleviate, followed the officer in command as he left the room. 200 THE LEVELLER 201 4 'When when did this happen?" he asked, his voice trembling in spite of his ef- forts to control it. "On the way to prison, the night of his arrest. He swallowed poison and died ten minutes later. Boris Alexanderowitch, " added the older man kindly, "why are you here? Do you not realize the danger? I knew your father; he was a good friend to me; I feel I can speak to you as I would to my own son. This is no place for you; get out of here." Boris was not listening; he was too busy thinking of his uncle's treachery. Mechani- cally he thanked the officer as he left. When he returned to Louboff she was standing by the coffin, calm once more, and the face of Michel, cold and awful in its serenity of death, stared up at them. The soldiers had all gone ; only the weeping serv- ants stood around. All at once Louboff cried fiercely : 1 ' Boris, I am not a Nihilist ; I was not. But what does this mean? But vengeance I will have. Examine his body, see if he died of torture before I can swear to you that I may not become one." Boris put his arm about her; with tender 202 THE LEVELLER love words he tried to calm her. But stories of the torture chamber had reached her. She would not be comforted. In spite of all his entreaties she insisted on his doing as she asked. With the female servants she withdrew, leaving Boris a task that frightened him. Ten minutes later he called her in. "Louboff," he said tenderly, "there is not a mark on his body not one ; he died of poi- son, by his own hand." And then gently he told her what the officer had said. "Thank God," she said bitterly, "he was at least saved the torture chamber, and Si- beria. It is well." All of them had forgotten the father, An- ton Malkiel. He came in just then, and, dazed at first, looked and then went straight to the coffin. At sight of Michel's face he gave one piercing shriek and fell across the bier, his arms outstretched. "Oh, Michel, Michel, my son, have they taken you from me!" he moaned, and the glance of his old eyes as it passed from face to face of the saddened group in piteous ap- peal went to the heart of Boris. Louboff went over to him and put her arms about him. THE LEVELLER 203 "Oh, child, child," he sobbed, "to-day I blasphemed against my God. They sent me a paper from the Ministerium, demanding that I, that you, with all my household, leave Eussia within three weeks, and I cursed my God for allowing the Christians this glory over me. But now. Oh, Michel, Michel, my boy, what are worldly possessions in com- parison to thee!" Hours later Boris faced his uncle. "It was cruel! it was horrible!" he cried in his anger at the powerful Minister, who sat watching him with calm insolence in his haughty eyes. "And you cheated her; you lied ; you knew her brother was dead ! ' ' Count d'Annenkoff shrugged his shoulders, and without taking notice of his nephew's angry denunciation, remarked very calmly : "All is fair in love and war; did I not give her back her brother as she asked?" CHAPTER XVIII. For three days after the funeral Louboff shut herself up in her room and would see no one. Listening outside the door, Boris could hear no sound of weeping within, nothing but a silence that terrified him, and he would rush for her maid to have her enter the room to see if matters were all right within. All day long in the grief-stricken house- hold there were sounds of hammering and the moving of furniture. Anton Malkiel had sold his household ef- fects at a great sacrifice among his friends, and bit by bit they were hastily removed, lest some greedy official come to demand them. When Louboff at last emerged from her se- clusion, Boris marveled, and was delighted to find her outwardly calm and composed, with- out wish to speak of the dead. "It has to be borne," she said once, when he mentioned Michel's name. "It is the will of God, but do not let us talk about it, my camarade; it is as much as I can do to think in fortitude. I must bear it, and I will bear it. ' ' She had not even put on mourning. 204 THE LEVELLER 205 * ' What does that matter ? ' ' she said with a shrug of lassitude, as she noticed Boris look- ing askance at her gown of gray woolen stuff. And Boris felt the truth of her remark. Grief such as hers was far too deep for any out- ward show. She shuddered as they walked through the half empty rooms with their litter of pack- ing cases and trunks. Only her music-room remained intact, the furniture of which was to be forwarded to Berlin, where she had de- cided to make headquarters. "I cannot realize it," she said sadly. "To think that in another week I begin life anew, amid strange scenes, strange people, away from all the associations of home and friends I have known since childhood." "But," whispered Boris, hopefully, "it will be only for a while. My mother comes to- morrow. She loves me, I know, better than her own life. My happiness is her whole con- cern, and after a time, when she knows you, she will see things as I see them. So your departure now has no significance. "You will go to Berlin; you will make a great success; do honor to Rubinstein and please him. You will become famous, and then, just as soon as my studies are over and 206 TEE LEVELLER I get my Government position, no matter how small that may be at first, I shall come for you, and we will marry. Then as my wife you will return to Eussia, and, as the story books say, live happy ever after. "The Gourowsky estate we will leave alto- gether to my mother, while she lives, and afterward afterward, Louboff, you and I will end our days there and devote our lives to philanthropy." She smiled back at him, her beautiful face shadowed by grief. "I see nothing of all that," she whispered. "I see nothing." Nevertheless they made their plans, such as they could make. Louboff promised to write him daily, no matter how busy she might be, if only one word; and Boris as- sured her that every Russian post would bring her an epistle, and that whenever his studies allowed he would cross the frontier just for a sight of her face. That same evening a package of photo- graphs of all sizes and kinds came : Louboff in evening dress, Louboff in walking dress, Louboff at the pianoforte. Boris pounced greedily on samples of each till he had placed aside some dozen in all for himself. THE LEVELLER 207 "But where will you put them all I'* she inquired. "I will not have enough for the music shops of Berlin. What, too, will your uncle think, or your mother say? Believe me, Boris, you are unwise, if you have any intention, as you say, of decorating your room with these. You do not realize things as they are." Boris laughed. "The first thing my mother will see in my rooms will be this," he said, lifting up the largest and handsomest; "and she will ask, 'Who is that? What a beautiful face,' and I will reply, 'Beautiful indeed, mother. Your new daughter to be, and my betrothed, Lou- boff Malkiel, the future Countess Gourow- sky.' " Louboff blushed with pleasure, and, listen- ing to him, the sorrow in her face grew lighter and the curves about her mouth less sad. That day she played for him the greater part of her repertoire, and one of the smaller Nocturnes of Chopin she promised to include in all her programs as a souvenir of him, be- cause it was his favorite. From that on Boris was practically at home in the Malkiel household, coming and 208 THE LEVELLER going at will. Anton Malkiel had heard in terror the announcement of the betrothal, but had said practically nothing, partly from con- fusion, partly from apathy. As to the anger that would have come to him a week earlier, that he allowed no place in his sentiments. The death of Michel, his first born and only son, seemed to have dead- ened every passion within him. Boris he scarcely noticed. He ate his meals in silence and then went out to at- tend to the many business affairs consequent on his forced and hurried departure. At midnight preceding the day of the Countess Gourowsky's arrival, Boris and Louboff were saying an revoir. "Now to-morrow, sweetheart," he said somewhat diffidently, "I do not know when I can come; but you are sensible, you under- stand that." "Perfectly, perfectly," she replied with a little smile sad in its forced resignation. "My mother gets here early," he went on, "and she is sure to monopolize a lot of my time; but if nothing else, I shall be at Eubin- stein's to take you home." "Then come early. I shall be very lonely without you," she said gently, and Boris, as THE LEVELLER 209 he kissed her, made up his mind to be with her for at least an hour during the day* When the train from Moscow steamed into the station, Boris, who was far ahead on the platform, caught sight of his mother's eager face leaning out, looking for him, and, run- ning along with the train till it stopped, shouting out his greetings, he found himself in a few moments more clasped in her arms. ''My boy," she said fervently, and as his nostrils scented once more the old familiar odor of violets, faint, yet aromatic, that al- ways perfumed her person, and felt her strong protecting arms about him in that ma- ternal embrace, so different to all others, his lips trembled and his eyes grew moist. This was the old love of his childhood, the old love he had so completely forgotten of late in the newer, stronger, passion inspired by Louboff, and as he looked down into the beaming face raised to his he felt ashamed. There was something searching and pene- trating in the glance she gave him kind as it was that caused him to redden, and her startled, "Why, Boris, my boy, what is it? You have changed. You have grown up all at once into manhood," gratified him beyond words. 210 THE LEVELLER ' ' Why not, mother ? " He pitched his voice to a deeper tone proudly. "I am a man." whereat the Countess Gourowsky sighed. ' ' Yes, you have grown, ' ' she added, survey- ing him. "And you, mother dear, you have widened. " He laughed teasingly, knowing that any allusion to her increasing bulk was sure to make her forget for the moment every other subject. "Alas, yes ; in spite of all I do." Then they entered the sleigh and were driven rapidly to Count d'Annenkoff 's palace on the Neva. During the drive the Countess plied Boris with all kinds of questions as to his studies, his life in general, and all the time Boris was wondering when the moment would arrive wherein he would have sufficient courage to tell her of LoubofF. "Mother," he said at length,." what put it into your head to come to St. Petersburg? I thought nothing would make you desert Gou- rowsky. ' ' "And nothing would have," she replied, turning her eyes half sternly on him, "but your interest." Boris wondered what she meant exactly, THE LEVELLER 211 but had not the courage to ask. Besides they were just stopping before the palace. Boris had jokingly informed Louboff that it was her photograph that would be his mother's first intimation of their betrothal, and so it proved. As soon as the long ceremonial of welcom- ing the Countess was over, Boris led her to their apartment, and, going through it from room to room, at last halted in his study, where the pictures of Louboff were con- spicuously placed over the bookcase, on the writing table, and one of the largest on an easel. As they entered the room Boris turned to his mother, expecting a cry of pleasure and surprise to fall from her lips over the beauty of the lovely Oriental face. Instead, she raised her lorgnette, and, looking at the pic- ture, said carelessly : "Why, what have we here, Boris? A music- hall singer, an actress?" Then going closer, she gave one long, scrutinizing look, and, turning to him, said chidingly, and with a shiver of disgust: "Faugh! Faugh! Boris! A Jewess!" "Mother mother, is she not beautiful?" he queried, real distress in his tones. 212 THE LEVELLER "After a fashion, yes; but " Then turning to Boris, hardly able to keep up the farce longer, she added hastily : ' ' But why so many of the same person? Is it pos- sible that you know her a Jewess ! ' ' "Yes, mother, I know her," he answered confusedly, feeling as if his very heartstrings were snapping. "I know her," he added bravely, ' ' and she is my betrothed. Her name is Louboff, Louboff Malkiel and she is a pupil of Rubinstein. ' ' For the first time in their joint lives the Countess felt her grasp on him had weakened, and the very bitterness of death came to her heart. He was her son all that fate had spared to her, and yet no longer her son as of old. Another woman had taken her place, usurped her power a Jewess, at that and she, his mother, was no longer the pivot about which his affections centered. She sank down on a divan. "Boris," she said weakly, and then she laughed, half hysterical in her pain and sor- row, "Boris, you joke, and it is a cruel joke to me, your mother. Betrothed, at your age!" He fell on his knees beside her and kissed her hand. TEE LEVELLER 213 1 'Mother, I am a man; I am no longer a boy; and Louboff " "Oh, my boy," she interrupted, "you are only a child, only a child, still in spite of your six feet of height ; and you rush off like a silly fellow and betroth yourself ; you dignify calf love into a passion." Boris could see her bosom heaving with emotion, and all the eulogies he had ready of Louboff died on his lips, stifled by her in- terruption. Then she bent over his head and began to stroke it lovingly. "Boris, my son, how could you?" she went on in motherly fashion, with the tone and manner of reproving a small child. "And to do all this without letting me know. Why " "But it came on me all so suddenly," he said simply. "I was head over ears in love before I realized it myself. ' ' The Countess laughed as one amused be- yond control, and Boris could feel his first sentiment of anger against her grow within him as he listened. Seeing his sullen face, the Countess became doubly afraid. "Mother," he said, at length, "it is useless to argue in this matter. My mind is made 214 THE LEVELLER up. You don't know Louboff, but when you do " The Countess took up the photograph. 1 'Why, I don't see any beauty in her," she remarked with a shrug. "How very strange, my son, that you should have become be- witched by such such " Boris raised his face, brooding, impatient, scornful. "You understand, mother dear," he said sweetly, but coldly, "my betrothed. I hope you realize this " "I think, Boris, I hardly do." At that moment luncheon was announced, and, jumping up, Boris gave his mother his arm, glad of the fact that Count d'Annen- koff had insisted on his sister lunching with him that day. As the day wore along Boris was con- scious only of one thing: the society of his mother, for the first time in his life, failed to satisfy him. He found his thoughts con- stantly wandering to Louboff, longing for her, wondering jealously about her move- ments ; but the Countess Gourowsky kept him chained to her side. He went with her to St. Isaac's; he made calls with her on some relatives; and all the THE LEVELLER 215 time the impatience of his surroundings be- came more acute. But it was the first day of her arrival, he told himself, and as a matter of duty his time belonged to her, so he forced himself to be cordial, and all the time the keen eyes of his mother noticed the difference ; and the jealousy and hatred of this unknown woman who had supplanted her in his affec- tion grew. At the dinner table he said, when coffee was served, relief and joy in his voice: ' * And now, mother, I must leave you. I am going to Eubinstein's to take Louboff home." For a moment the Countess hesitated, studying her son meanwhile intently, then she said quietly : "To Eubinstein's? Why, if you have no objection, I will accompany you. It will be like old times to see our great Anton Greg- oriewitch again." Boris looked up in amazement. For a mo- ment he seemed nonplussed, then he smiled. "Why, come along!" he cried, and his joy at her decision was suddenly extreme. "At Eubinstein's," he told himself, "she will hear Louboff play, and therefore make her ac- quaintance in the best possible fashion." CHAPTER XIX. "The Count and Countess Gourowsky," announced Matve, and with an expression of keen delight, Rubinstein hurried forward, and, raising the Countess' hand to his, was greeted by her, Russian fashion, with a kiss on the forehead. Then he turned and said quietly and for- mally : "Countess, allow me to present my pupil, Louboff Antonivna Malkiel. A very great pianist, whom you will hear much of, one day," he added flatteringly. Louboff, who had nervously greeted Boris, came forward and bowed to the great lady, who looked her over so critically, then some- thing pathetic in the young girl's beauty something winsome and sweet in her small figure, in its clinging robes of white woolen stuff awoke the sympathies of the Countess. "Ah," she said, extending her hand graciously, so white and statuesque against the deep purple of her velvet gown, * ' my son has already spoken of you, Louboff An- tonivna, and I have seen your picture. I 210 THE LEVELLER 111 think," she added, turning a swift glance on the mollified Boris, "they hardly do you justice." "Now, Louboff," said Anton Rubinstein authoritatively when there was business to be done he was always energetic "get to the pianoforte. The Countess," he added, "I know, will excuse you. Mademoiselle Malkiel makes her debut in Germany two weeks hence, and must play over the program of that concert to-night, ' ' he said in explanation, turning to Boris' mother. "We two will sit here quietly and chat. I think you will be in- terested," he whispered, as Boris and Lou- boff went to the pianoforte, the former assist- ing her in opening it. "A really great talent, and she has everything besides youth, beauty, industry. I expect her to become one of the shining lights of the Conservatory." Eubinstein was visibly nervous; Louboff herself seemed indifferent. Boris having left her, she sat down to the pianoforte, while the Countess scrutinized her covertly. "She cer- tainly is beautiful ; more than beautiful ; sym- pathetic, most magnetic in personality," thought the older woman uneasily. With fearless attack, broadly, her tone beautiful in its singing quality, Louboff com- 218 THE LEVELLER menced one of the Bach Preludes and Fugues. In her younger days, when a dame d'hon- neur of the Empress Marie, and when Rubin- stein was the bright and shining light of the Grand Duchess Helene's Court, Countess Gourowsky, then Mdlle. d'Annenkoff, had been one of his most promising pupils, and her knowledge of music was therefore thorough. As soon as Louboff had finished the Prelude and commenced the Fugue, one of the most difficult of the forty-eight, the Countess turned, really surprised, and said to her old master with enthusiasm : " Surely a marvelous talent, and so young ! ' ' "Yes, but wait till you hear her Beethoven, superb; and her Chopin" he kissed the fin- gers of his right hand "exquisite. Poor child, she has just lost her brother. I was afraid it would mean nervous breakdown, but I insisted on her giving the concert as ar- ranged, and the hard work seems to have had a beneficial effect. There is only one thing, ' ' continued the great musician after a pause, as Bach's music filled the room with its sonorous harmony, "I hope she will fall in love." The old-time pupil and master looked at each other meaningly. THE LEVELLER 219 Then the Countess said with her slow smile of grande dame: "Say it, Anton Gregorie- witch, you think my Boris and " Eubinstein shrugged his shoulders; then he laughed. "It looks like it. " "But it is foolish; it is impossible." ' ' I know, and therefore I am glad of it. It will be the making of her as an artist. ' ' Then he added, his blue eyes fiery in their penetra- tion : ' ' That is why you are here, Countess. ' ' ' * Hu sh ! He must not know. ' ' Bubinstein put his finger to his lips, and at that moment Louboff finished and looked round. Bubinstein got up, and, going to the piano- forte, put his arm about her. "Little soul, you have played well. Only play so at the concert and you will do yourself honor. Now," he added, straightening himself and looking at the two auditors triumphantly, "now, for a great feat: the Op. 106 of Beethoven." Louboff dusted her fingers with the lace handkerchief she had put on the folded desk of the pianoforte, bit her lips, looked over at Boris with a smile, then, like a clarion call, there rang out the majestic chords of Beetho- ven's masterpiece. 220 THE LEVELLER The Countess allowed her eyes to rest be- nignantly on Louboff. From time to time Bubinstein ran his fingers through his hair with a grunt of approval and an occasional loud bravo. Boris could feel every pulse in his body beating madly. Louboff herself seemed like one possessed as she grappled with the enormous difficulties, technical and intellectual, surmounting all in a fashion that brought from Bubinstein as she finished the exclamation: "Colossal!" Trembling, worked up to pitch almost hys- terical, Louboff came and stood up by Bubin- stein. He took her in his arms and felt her slight figure shaking in his grasp. "Louboff, Louboff, to-night I know your success is assured!" and, bending down, he kissed her affectionately. "Mademoiselle," said the Countess, "I have not heard in ages such playing as yours ; never certainly from a woman. Let me con- gratulate you, too, child," and, also taking Louboff in her arms, she kissed her on both cheeks. "And I," said Boris. "Louboff," he be- gan and hesitated his mother and Bubin- stein were both watching him with curious eyes then he raised her hand to his lips, in THE LEVELLER 221 spite of her resistance, and kissed them with a fervor that made the two elder people seek each other's eyes with a surreptitious glance. Matve brought in the tea, and for half an hour Eubinstein insisted on Louboff resting. Then she went again to the pianoforte and for more than an hour played Chopin. It was then that Countess Gourowsky understood the full extent of her witchery and charm, the emotional beauty of soul in her that had so entirely enslaved her son. There was but one encomium possible. She played divinely. All the pathos and loveli- ness of Chopin's were revealed with a master touch, thrilling the hearts of her hearers through and through. "Genius, artist, young, beautiful yet a Jewess. Did ever Russian mother have so difficult a task before her I" the Countess thought dejectedly. Then all the old d'An- nenkoff instincts awoke within her; the finesse and diplomacy that had made the men of her race famous as statesmen for genera- tions came to her assistance. When Louboff had finished the Countess went over to her, and, sitting beside her, began such eulogies as delighted the heart of the young artist. Boris looked on well pleased. He gave his 222 THE LEVELLER mother every opportunity, laughing and chat- ting himself with Eubinstein, who was in great good humor. A little before eleven Matve announced that the Countess* sleigh was waiting. Boris stood up. "You will excuse me, mother dear," he said somewhat diffidently, "I cannot re- turn with you, as I have to see Mademoiselle Malkiel home." The Countess turned to him with her sweet- est smile. ' * Boris, ' ' she said quietly, but with the air of one who has weighed matters and come out the conqueror, "I intend to give myself that pleasure. Louboff Antonivna, you will let me be your chaperone ? ' ' Blank dismay fell for a second on the two young faces, but Louboff was quickest to re- cover herself. "You do me too much honor, Madame," she faltered. "Ma chere, the honor is mine," responded the Countess blandly, as she turned to bid Rubinstein au revoir. Boris saw them cloaked, bringing them to the sleigh. On returning, he faced Rubin- stein, who was waiting for him, a peculiar smile on his face, partly cynical, wholly sar- castic. THE LEVELLER 223 "You are," said Rubinstein, with disdain, "the picture of woe and disappointment. "Well, Boris Alexanderowitch, be a man and bear up under it. It comes to all of us!" Then his mood changed and he said genially, "You don't know how lucky you are to be able to feel so." Boris tried to smile and laugh off the sal- lies of the great composer, but his success was poor. A few minutes later he left the house, rage and disgust in his heart. CHAPTER XX. Long before his mother had risen, long be- fore the household of the Palace Annenkoff had shaken off slumber, Boris was out and away to the Moika. At Louboff 's house the still sleepy servants greeted him with surprise. "Do not wake the Toarishyna. Do not tell her I am here," he said smiling. "Just give me some tea ; I will wait for her." Almost two hours later, when Louboff came to the music-room for her morning practice, she found him there, smoking and reading the morning papers. * * Oh, Boris, ' ' she said, her face lighting up with delight, "how nice of you! I feared I was never going to see you again." Then pausing, she said pleadingly and half pout- ingly, "Do let us enjoy the remaining days and be together as much as possible; there are only four more. Oh, how lonely I was yesterday. I could not work, I could not practice, I kept watching for you all day." Boris could not help contrasting his feel- ings with hers, and finding them identical his spirits rose. 224 THE LEVELLER 225 "Yes," he said eagerly, "and was it not mean of mother! Oh, Louboff, when I saw you go off with her it almost broke my heart. I had been looking forward all day to that one little half hour. It was really a crime on her part." Then he added anxiously, "And how did you get along with mother ? How did she strike you?" "Boris well well, I hardly like to say. You see, dearest, she is your mother, and therefore I hesitate about giving you my im- pressions ; they may not be right. ' ' "No, no; say just what you think," he in- terrupted eagerly. "Well, she gave me the impression of being ires grande dame, and worldly ; quite differ- ent to the idea you had given me in your de- scription of her." Then Louboff shivered a little as one who has cold, and drew closer to him. "But I don't want any outside influence to spoil our last days together, Boris. I mean just to revel in your love, forgetting the world, forgetting the future, forgetting all things but that just you are you, and that we are together." It was all that he could get her to say of his mother in the days that ensued. Adroitly, cleverly and most carefully, she avoided all 226 THE LEVELLER mention of the Countess in their conversation, and on the few remaining occasions that they saw each other she gave herself up, as she said, to a delirium of happiness, born of the knowledge that Boris loved her and loved her passionately. On the night of the second day of her ar- rival the Countess, who had only seen her son for a moment he had spent the day with Louboff waited for him in his study. Her emotions were many. She sat in the stillness, thinking over the past, remembering her son as a curly-headed cherub, who adored her and would not be comforted in her ab- sence. She saw him a lad, devoted, chival- rous, always dreading the inevitable separa- tion that must come when his college days began. She contrasted all that with his pres- ent attitude. He hardly seemed the same Boris. He had slipped out of her grasp, turned from her. At last she heard his footsteps, and all the maternal pride in her heart awakened. He was so handsome, so manly. She smiled up at him, nevertheless she said reprovingly : "You certainly keep late hours, Boris, When do you get time to study!** THE LEVELLER 227 "I am giving myself a little holiday these days," he said moodily. "Louboff goes away Monday, and it is going to be a long separa- tion I am afraid; almost three months until my vacation. I am going to be very neglectful of you, mother, for a little while," he added, coming up and putting his hand on her shoulr der affectionately, "but I know you under- stand the circumstances and will forgive me.*' The Countess felt anything but flattered at his frank admission and consequent deduc- tion. A bitter reproach rose to her lips, but, looking up, she saw it would be useless; his face wore a sad, dreamy, far-away expres- sion. He was not thinking of her, not even thinking of what he was saying, but of the new interest that held his fancy so completely captive. "Well," she said at length, and with af- fected carelessness. "Boys, Boris, will be boys, and this first love affair of yours, of course, seems a most serious fact." "Mother," he said abruptly, his patience not proof against her doubting assertion, "it is a fact, a most serious fact ; you still do not realize that it is a betrothal, that some day you will have to take Louboff to your heart as your son's wife." 228 TEE LEVELLER "Now, Boris," she said, smiling indul- gently, "do not let us misunderstand each other. You are not twenty-one yet, and I am old and experienced. We will say nothing fur- ther about this betrothal till your birthday, a year hence and then, well, then, if you come to me and still insist, I am ready to 'take her to my heart, 7 as you say, and give you both my blessing." Boris flung his arms about her boyishly, his face radiant. "Mother! Dearest, sweetest, and best of mothers, you mean this ? ' * ' ' Surely, my boy. * ' "Then it is assured, settled; and, oh, mother, I do appreciate your kindness and greatness of heart, your love for me, for I know your prejudices. ' ' "Well, then, be happy, dear," she said, kissing him; "so run off now and sleep soundly. ' ' Then, a sudden thought coming to her, the Countess said graciously: "Since I will not see you because of your preoccupa- tion, why not bring Mademoiselle Malkiel here to luncheon, to dinner, or any time you like that she is free?" Boris again embraced her rapturously, feel- ing as if all good fortune were coming his THE LEVELLER 229 way, and, looking up into his frank, bright eyes, the Countess' own fell in their first con- fusion before those of her son. " Mother has consented to our betrothal," shouted Boris to Louboff the moment of their meeting next day. Louboff wrinkled her pretty eyebrows. ' ' Consented ! ' ' she whispered in awe. Then she listened to his story, and smiled wisely. She made no remark. "You must come to luncheon to-day," he finished. "You are expected." "To-day? Friday? Oh, no, Boris, not to- day ; I would not care to enter your house for the first time on a Friday. ' ' "But it would not be the first time," he said quickly. "You were there before; you know it is the house of my uncle. So, Louboff, sweetheart, run and get on your things at once. Mother expects us. Put on your pretty heliotrope frock the one I first saw you in and wear your sable cloak, the one with the diamond clasps, ' ' he added eagerly. "Boris, at times you are such a boy," she said tenderly, and, drawing down his head, she kissed him on the mouth and then, Rus- sian fashion, on each eyelid. She followed his advice, however, as he 230 THE REVELLER noted with glee, and they went at once to the Annenkoff palace. Vera d' Annenkoff was there, and the moment Boris' mother caught sight of Louboff she rose and greeted her cor- dially. Then, with her arm about her, led her forward to her niece. "Vera," she said smiling, "this is Made- moiselle Louboff Malkiel. Perhaps I ought to introduce her more correctly as the be- trothed of Boris, but you young people ought not to betroth yourselves too readily, so I will merely say that in all probability you will know her one day as your cousin. ' ' Vera d' Annenkoff had been trained in her father's way. She showed no surprise, not even by the quiver of an eyelid. "I am delighted to meet you," she said in easy fashion, ' ' and I congratulate you both. ' ' She looked over at Boris and smiled know- ingly. "She has the most beautiful face I ever laid eyes on," she whispered a few mo- ments later to the gratified young man, as they followed the Countess and Louboff in to luncheon. The luncheon was pleasant and the attitude of the Countess charming. Louboff was forced to leave early ; when the Countess saw her de- part in the company of Boris she said gaily: THE LEVELLER 231 * * Now, remember, Louboff Antonivna, come to luncheon or dinner; you will always find me. You know it is the only way I can get a glimpse at all of my son. ' ' Then she bent and kissed the lovely flushed face, with its glory of youth and happiness, and said, turning to Boris: "You hear, Boris? Insist on her com- ing." On Saturday evening, much against her will, Boris brought Louboff to dinner, and just as they were rising from the table a serv- ant came, asking Boris to attend on his Ex- cellency, Count d'Annenkoff, for a few min- utes. Boris excused himself and went unsuspect- ingly. Then, the Countess knowing the coast was clear for an hour at least, got the long talk she wanted with Louboff. She was all kindness and delicacy, and a very real and true affection seemed to look out of her handsome eyes, so like those of Boris in color, so unlike in expression, as she took Louboff 's hand protectingly. "I speak, my dear," she said softly, "as your friend, but more especially as the mother of Boris." Then quietly, insidiously, cun- ningly, she laid before the heartbroken Lou- boff what the consequences of any marriage 232 THE LEVELLER between herself and Boris would be his com- plete and absolute ruin, socially and finan- cially. Louboff needed no convincing ; she knew all that the Countess had to tell her she knew even more about her Russia and the Govern- ment than the elder woman did ; but when the latter said softly: "A woman is always older than a man at your age ; you have twice the wisdom of Boris ; I leave the whole matter in your hands and to your decision.'* Louboff could have screamed aloud in her agony. And Louboff in her youth, in her generosity, and in her love, was as wax in the hands of the Countess, who had behind her pleadings all the wiles and cunning of her forty years' experience. "Now," finished the Countess, "to come be- tween a great love even if it would save my son from ruin is something I could not do, but Louboff Antonivna, what is real love? "What is great love? What is true love ? Is it not that which sacrifices self for the benefit of the one beloved ? Life is so short, so short. See me ; I loved Boris 'father ; we were happy, ah, so happy; but now I am alone, and it is all a memory, and all the bitterer, I assure you, because a memory of great happiness. I THE LEVELLER 233 do not hesitate, my child, to say that many, many times when my sufferings were great- est I regretted that I gave way to the love that was later to cause me such anguish, and that in the beginning I did not stifle it. We are not made for happiness that comes in the life beyond, and comes to us best through sac- rifice. ' ' Louboff listened dry-eyed. It was all as she had told Boris a hundred times. A marriage between them was impossible, absolutely im- possible, and she thanked God in her heart she had her art. " Without that it would be suicide," she told herself in the abjectness of her misery. "Do not spoil the last remaining days of your stay," went on the soft, sweetly modu- lated voice of the Countess, with its mellow timbre. * l Let him believe in the possibility of blue roses, if he will, but for your own good, and for his, write to him from Berlin and give him back his troth. "It will be cruel, it will rack his heart; but in the end, as I see it, as I know you see it and as all must see it, for fate has so willed it it is irremediable : the only kindness you can do him. "And then you are both young, and youth 234 THE LEVELLER has so mucli vitality with which to fight suf- fering. Louboff, I know you are true and honest ; I know you realize all the "pain this costs me, but I am his mother, you, Louboff, his sweetheart. We have this one motive in common, his welfare, and it is ours equally, because we love him." "I will do as you say," Louboff whispered after an agonized pause. "But oh, my God, Madame!" she added wildly, "just for one moment let me be alone. ' ' The Countess rose and kissed her. Louboff could feel one heavy tear fall on her cheek from the older woman's eyes. Then the Coun- tess left her, closed the door softly, and waited outside for Boris to come. Half an hour later someone tapped at the door. Louboff was at the pianoforte, pouring out all her heart in the sorrow-laden har- monies of a Chopin Prelude, and there Boris found her. Her face was ghastly, her eyes wild and gleaming with strange light playing in their sombre depths. When she had finished the Prelude, Boris went up to her. "You are tired, dearest. Play no more," he said gently, thinking that memories of THE LEVELLER 235 Michel caused by the poignant melancholy of the music were haunting her. "Yes, Boris, I am tired," she said simply, ' * take me home. ' ' "Where is my mother?" he asked, looking round in the shadows of the room. "If she has gone," said Louboff firmly, "do not disturb her. You can make my adieux. She was here till a little while ago." "Yes, just fancy," he said aggrievedly, "Alexei Alexeiwitch was upstairs and I had to take the fourth hand at whist. I played so abominably on purpose that they finally sent me off ; otherwise, I suppose, I would be play- ing still. My thoughts were with you all the time, ' ' he added fondly. Louboff shivered. "Come, Boris," she said, her face growing whiter and whiter. "I am tired, dreadfully tired, sweetheart." CHAPTER XXI. Boris had warned Louboff the day before to have nothing to do on Sunday: that that day must belong to him, and he would call for her at noon. "It is a surprise," he said in his bright boyish way, * * and I will not tell you anything about it till the time comes." Louboff despite her grief and misery had not forgotten. She had passed a sleepless night, a night so wretched that many times only the sorrow to Boris kept her thoughts from running on self-destruction. In the morning toward eleven she roused herself, dressed carefully, then drinking several small glasses of cordial, some ten minutes before twelve stood ready waiting for him. A gaily decorated sleigh came over the bridge ; the driver, big and stalwart, swathed to the teeth in furs and driving the three horses abreast skilfully, she recognized as Ivan, one of the d'Annenkoff coachmen; and Boris, in his sables, jumped out of the sleigh the moment the horses drew up before the door. "A day in the Islands, Louboff, that is my 236 THE LEVELLER 237 surprise," he said gaily, as lie brought in with him a whiff of the cold, bracing outside air and kissed her with lips icy of touch. Then he laughed at her affected pleasure. ' ' I have three of my uncle's fastest horses; furs enough to smother in, and luncheon is ordered. Best of all you are mine, sweetheart, for the day, and no one can infringe on a mo- ment of our time." With a mighty effort Louboff threw off her gloom and her sadness; the spirit of Boris was exhilarating. She determined that, come what would, that one day at least she would snatch from the cruelty of fate for one day she would let no thought of the future disturb the certainty of her present happiness. She was cloaked in a few minutes, and they entered the sleigh with much difficulty, so restive and spirited were the horses; then they dashed into the Nevsky, through the wide semicircle of the Winter Palace, and all along the Palace Quay at a breakneck speed and over the bridge to the Kamenoi Ostroff road. The air was like wine in its intoxicating ef- fect, the big, blue-tasseled net kept the snow, ground to a powder under the feet of the mag- nificent Orloffs, from hitting their faces, the 238 THE LEVELLER whole earth seemed to fly from under them, and the strange, delirious sensation of surg- ing through clouds intoxicated their senses. They entered the great forests, the trunks of the gigantic pines covered with icicles showing black as ink against the white of the landscape. At last, half frozen in spite of their heavy furs, they drew up before the Chalet, where Boris had ordered luncheon. During the meal he further confided his se- cret to take her to see the Palace Gourowsky near by. "We rent it out yearly, now," he said candidly, "for the sake of the revenue, but when we are married, Louboff, and I have my Government position, why, of course, we will occupy it in the summer. ' * Louboff felt she could say nothing, but gave him a sympathetic look and smiled. He began to talk of the future. She lis- tened as one who hears a story read. "Why do you say nothing?'* he asked sud- denly. ' ' You have no enthusiasm. ' ' "I do not see it. I do not see it," she an- swered sadly. "Oh, you pessimist, come and be per- suaded," he laughed, rising, luncheon being over. They set off again in the white stillness of the outside world ; no sound but the trot of THE LEVELLER 239 the horses' feet, the rattle of the silver har- ness and the fusic of the silver sleighbells. Above the sky was intensely blue, the sun shone brilliantly, and Boris enthusiastically pointed out landmark after landmark, where Louboff could only see icicles, snow or trees. Then they reached the palace, all boarded up and desolate looking. They were expected, for a man in sheepskin brought them inside, and the big stove in the dining-room was lighted. Then Boris took her all over the house one of the showplaces of the Islands. In the picture gallery, where hung scores of dead and gone Gourowskys, he pointed out a vacant place. "Your picture will be there," Louboff," he said fondly, "painted by Mark- off, and you will be one of the loveliest of the Countesses." He insisted on showing her the garden; everything was under snow, but he made the wintry landscape bloom. He pointed out great clumps of snow-buried bushes. "These are lilacs," he said, "white and violet; their odor strong enough to make one faint. In a few months more it is a paradise here : the labur- nums will be golden and the ground one huge bouquet of double violets and white narcissi. Oh, if you were only here ! ' ' 240 TEE LEVELLER 11 Boris, " she said quickly, " gather me a bunch of violets here when springtime comes, and, even though they wither on the way, send them to me as a remembrance of to-day." * ' No, ' ' he said eagerly, * ' as a token of days to come. ' ' After that, through miles and miles of for- est, they drove madly, till the breath seemed to leave their bodies and the icy atmosphere froze their lashes so that they had difficulty in seeing. The desolation of the magnificent winter scene was awe inspiring, and when the de- clining sun sent its purple and fiery colors over sky and land they were speechless with an overpowering sense of wonder and delight at the grandeur before them. The light faded, rose and scarlet and helio- trope, with shafts of gold and flame color shot through and through, gleamed through the blackness of the trees, gradually disappear- ing to shadows. It grew still colder, the sky bluer, the gloom of night succeeded the opal- escence of evening and the stars came out in thousands. Boris had his cheek against hers. As they rushed onward in the blue gloom he was whis- pering love words that made her heart break THE LEVELLER 241 and tortured her. At times it seemed as if it were all a dream, a dream at once beautiful and horrible, a dream that paralyzed reason and gave her the delirium of life's fullest emo- tions. They had dinner at the Chalet. Afterward the gay group of gypsies, that are a feature of life in the Islands, gathered around them and Louboff saw their graceful dances for the first time and listened to their playing and singing. All at once the artist in her woke. She be- came interested, she forgot the parting of the morrow. The music of Liszt, of Brahms, with newer, deeper meaning, stimulated her intel- lectual senses. She asked that the pianoforte be opened, and for a while the gypsies sat or stood around, wild with enthusiasm over her playing. It was a night of delirium and joy. Boris brought her home at midnight, and the wild drive through the darkness of the woods and then through the streets of the city that glit- tered and sparkled as if diamond strewn was dream-like ; Boris held her in a clasp that love alone can give. They reached the Nevsky, and the bells of the city churches broke on the stillness. ' ' Oh, 242 THE LEVELLER Boris, it is over!" she cried in anguish, as they tolled to her ears like a funeral knell. "Sweetheart,'* he cried passionately, "it has only begun ! ' ' CHAPTER XXII. The day of LoubofFs departure arrived. Boris was with her early. He found her flur- ried and agitated, a dozen things claiming her attention at once. Everything in her music- room had been boxed and packed the day be- fore, but other things remaining to be done seemed endless. He could hardly get a second of her attention. Then it was time to drive to the station, and once there they found the place besieged. Eelatives, friends, schoolmates, artists: they were all there to wish her godspeed; only a few of them knew of her exile, but all of them knew she was starting on her career as an artist. Boris found himself elbowed away, pushed aside, lost in the wave of humanity that surged and thronged about her. If he tried to reach her, her friends would grasp on all sides and claim her instant attention. And she, bewildered, excited, almost hysterical, seemed to have no will of her own, to follow, answer, listen at random. It was almost the moment of parting; sud- denly she extricated herself. 243 244 THE LEVELLER "Boris!" she cried despairingly, as she stretched out her arms toward him ; he caught her in a grasp of iron, "Oh, Boris, Boris!" she wailed passionately, then a deadly faint- ness overcame her. They led her to her compartment in the train; Boris knelt at her feet and kissed her hand repeatedly. He was utterly unconscious of his surroundings; he saw nothing but Louboff 's face, deathly pale, the half-closed eyes that looked agonizedly into his own. A hand grasped him by the shoulder ; they told him the train was starting, and bending over her he screamed out to her to kiss him; a faint pressure alone of her lips answered the hot, maddened hunger of his own. He was dragged from the carriage, the train steamed off, and in a haze he found him- self surrounded by strangers, all friends of hers, who were weeping loudly at her depar- ture. He pushed past them to his carriage, hot tears stinging his eyes, and the desolation in his heart almost unbearable. It was the carriage that had taken her to the station, and the perfume of the roses she had carried the roses he had given her still lingered about it. He stooped and saw some THE LEVELLER 245 of the frail petals at his feet. The reality of her departure came to him as a sudden blow. Every moment made it more real. He began to curse himself as a fool and an imbecile. He had wanted to say so much to her ; he had planned it all, had it all in readi- ness, but he had left it all unsaid. Things came back to him in a flash. ''Have I made it all plain?" he asked himself. "Does she understand? Does she know that I love her as no woman has ever been loved before?" Again and again he execrated himself. "Why did I not take the journey with her?" he queried of himself dejectedly. "Why let her travel alone?" Then saner thoughts ensued. "I will write to her," he told himself, "the first moment I get home," and he began to turn over and over in his mind the phrases he would use in this, his first love letter. "Yes, I will write to her. ' ' "What did you say?" It was Rubinstein, his head in at the open window, who had put the question. Boris turned, the rose leaves still in his hand, con- scious of uttering his thoughts aloud, and met the sympathetic gaze of Anton Eubinstein. ' ' There are too many women here, ' ' said he quickly. "Take me home in your carriage." 246 THE LEVELLER Boris was inwardly angry at the interrup- tion of his thoughts, but he said affably enough: "With the greatest pleasure, Anton Gregoriewitch. ' ' Once inside the carriage Rubinstein lit his cigarette and stared before him, then he turned and put his hand affectionately on Boris* shoulder. "Boris Alexanderowitch, you give me hope. ' ' "It" Boris turned his troubled eyes ques- tioningly. "Yes, you do not understand; but you and Louboff, this love affair of yours ! Ah, only the other day I said; Art is dead because there are no Juliets and no Eomeos. Well, I was wrong, I was wrong; you two, you love and you suffer as lovers should, as lovers did. Boris Alexanderowitch, as I watch you I feel young again, hopeful, I hear melodies, my fingers itch for a pencil." Boris turned to him in amazement, the cold analysis of the musician's reasoning sickened him; the fact that any one could find satis- faction in the misery he was then enduring, and that he knew Louboff was enduring, caused him intense anger, pain and irritation. "Ah, you artists!" he ejaculated bitterly. TEE LEVELLER 247 "Yes, we artists, " assented Eubinstein meditatively. "This is a prosaic age, an age of bayonets and Mammon worship ; the world nowadays is never well lost for love ; women forget themselves only when the title deeds have passed into their keeping, and men think more of a dot than they do of bright eyes. It is no longer an age of romance: it is an age of reason, an age of calculation. I feel out of tune with it all, and I ask myself so often, have I been born too early or too late?" "Anton Gregoriewitch, are you not happy?" Boris had asked the question un- consciously, then he halted; Rubinstein's moods were uncertain. He was quite capable of taking umbrage. "Happy! Boris Alexandero witch, what is happiness or unhappiness? Do you know! You believe yourself unhappy now. Well, twenty, fifty years hence you will realize that your very happiness lay in this your present power for unhappiness." "You mean " began Boris. ' * This, you will realize too late, you cannot now. Ah, the whole gist is in this little phrase, 'Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pou- vait.' Boris Alexandero witch, when you can apply this to yourself, when you are old, that 248 THE REVELLER is, you will not really know happiness till then." Bubinstein 's face was sphinx-like in its sarcasm. He paused; then he laughed, a laugh that sounded mirthless and mocking. "Here is the Conservatory, Boris Alexan- derowitch; many thanks for your kindness. Au revoir. Will you dine with me to-night?" "Some other night, Anton Gregoriewitch, please." "Ah, indulge yourself, indulge yourself, my Borneo. There is no luxury greater than that of grief." As Boris saw Bubinstein enter the Con- servatory, the figure of the great composer, old, shabby, pathetic, drooping, shambling along in fur boots and shouba, his shaggy locks just showing under his cap, it struck terror into Boris' soul. "What does it all amount to?" he thought dejectedly. "There goes Bubinstein; he has had the homage of the world ; men and women have spoiled him from his birth upward ; for- tune has favored him in all ways; yet his cynicism blasts one's soul. Unhappiness ! yes, I know it. But my unhappiness is negative ; it is only impatience; impatience of the hap- piness to be mine soon. Will the summer never come?" THE LEVELLER 249 When Boris reached home the household was just preparing for dinner. Two footmen were laying the table. It wanted but three- quarters of six. He commenced his letter; then the thought that he would have to eat, would have to talk, would have to listen to the conversation of others dismayed him. He left the letter unfinished and went out. He went toward the Moika, and, standing on the bridge, stared at the uncurtained win- dows of what had once been Louboff's home. "Oh, Michel, Michel," he thought, "only for you she would be here still! Or, even if she were now on her way to Berlin, she would be able to come back, and things would be so different." Beneath and above the apartment of the Malkiels light shone in the windows. Boris could see shaded lamps, outlines of furniture, figures passing and repassing ; only in Loub- off 's home was everything dark and desolate. The sight further unnerved him. He re- turned home, and, when passing his mother's boudoir, she called to him, he affected not to hear her, but passed on. Then he sat down to his writing table, and, after covering the photograph of Louboff with kisses, settled down to finish his letter. 250 THE LEVELLER Everything was deadly still in the apart- ment. The ticking of the clock irritated him ; he was about to rise and go for a walk when the rustle of silk sounded in the doorway, and his mother came forward and placed a cool, soft hand on his fevered brow. The letter lay addressed before him. She glanced at it. "Writing already to your sweetheart, my boy? I sympathize deeply with you; but brace up. You have not eaten anything to- day; you are haggard and disheveled. Let me send you something ; or, perhaps, you will come to my boudoir and eat it there." "Not to-night, mother dear; I do not care to eat, and I am bad company. ' ' She understood the subtle appeal, and said quickly : "Well, I will leave you then. Shall I have your letter posted T I am sending some of my own." ' ' Please, mother. ' * She stooped and kissed him, and, going out, went directly to her brother's apartment. He smiled as she entered. "Well, fellow conspirator?" he said glee- fully. "The boy is demented. He has not eaten THE LEVELLER 251 anything, and he looks half crazy. See this letter, already." She threw the letter on the table before him. The Count took it up, surveyed it with a grim smile, then tore it into a dozen frag- ments, and, going to the stove, placed it amid the live coals. "God!" said the Countess, aghast, as she took one step toward him. "What are you doing? If she should write him; if he should find out!" Count d'Annenkoff raised his eyebrows in reproach. "Don't you give me credit for some diplomacy?" he asked shortly. "I have ar- ranged for all that. Absolute instructions have been sent to the telegraph office and to the postoffice. No letters of hers will be de- livered ; no letters of his will be sent till they pass my personal supervision. She is a Ni- hilist. She can be grateful to Rubinstein that we ever allowed her to leave the country." The Countess sighed. "It seems terrible," she said shudderingly, "but I suppose it is best. The thing has to be nipped in the bud. ' ' "My dear," laughed the Count, sarcastic- ally, "nipped in the bud? I intend to see it torn up by the root. ' ' CHAPTER XXIII. "Is there a letter for me? Is there a tele- gram for me?" In the days that followed these were the constant demands made by Boris Alexanderowitch. The second day passing and no news reach- ing him from Louboff, he showed his anxiety plainly. 1 ' She was so ill, mother, when she left ; I do hope nothing serious is the matter. She has had so much trouble lately and has borne up so wonderfully; and working so hard, too. The excitement of giving a concert in a city like Berlin is enough to shake one's nerves. ' ' "I feel," he cried on the third day, "as if I ought to follow her! Why should I not? I really ought to be in Berlin. Why did I not think of that in time? I should be there to see her make her debut. ' ' His mother pacified him as best she could. Traveling just then, with so much snow all over the country, was necessarily slow and retarded, the telegraph wires were down, the mails delayed. THE LEVELLER 253 All that she could say or do she said and did ; and the days went on till it was the fifth day; but still no answer came to his tele- gram and letters. On the seventh day, the day of her concert, they brought him a letter. His mother herself left it on his desk one evening when he was out, and she waited for his return anxiously in one of the rooms close by. The letter was written on reaching Berlin, and had been delayed by the storm. Well as his mother was conscious of what was coming with Count d'Annenkoff she had read it she was not prepared for the whirlwind of fury into which the letter seemed to throw him. The bell from his study rang violently; it seemed as if he were breaking the furniture inside. His mother reached the door first, a servant behind her. "What is it?" she cried, with real surprise in her voice on seeing his face distorted and flushed with anger and passion. "I am going to Berlin ! I am going to Ber- lin to-night!" he said hoarsely; then, turning to the servant, he added commandingly : "Andre, pack up my things at once." "Why, my boy, what is this?" said the 254 THE LEVELLER Countess soothingly, as she motioned the serv- ant away. "No train starts to-night for Ber- lin, and if it did, there is your passport to be attended to, and at quickest that will take a few days." "A few days? It must be attended to at once," he said decisively. "What good is it to have an uncle who is Minister of the In- terior otherwise I ' ' "But, my boy, what is it? Is Louboff Anto- nivna ill, or what I ' ' "I do not know I do not know unless it is some hellish plot!" he cried, misery in his voice and manner such as she never suspected her son capable of feeling. "Some hellish plot," he reiterated more loudly. "Here! read her letter. She never wrote that of her own accord, never ; some one has forced her to it ; or else, or else she must be mad ! ' ' The day following Count d'Annenkoff had a stormy scene with his nephew. The latter insisted on a passport that hour ; the former was not to be pushed. He argueti that there was no immediate hurry, that Boris could very well wait till the usual red tape had taken its course, and that in any case he could not interfere in so small a matter. Boris suddenly remembered Louboff 's fore- THE LEVELLER 255 bodings, her pessimism, her apathy, her con- stant reiteration about the future always gloomy, unhopeful, sad. "Well," he said shortly, "if I cannot have my passport to-day, let it be forwarded to me at the frontier : for I start to-day. This after- noon I leave St. Petersburg, ' ' he cried loudly, manly determination in his young voice, a challenge in his glance. Count d'Annenkoff smiled. It suited his plans exactly to have Boris leave St. Peters- burg. "Well," he said quietly, "just as you like. It will be all the same, and it is for you to de- cide." The afternoon train that left the northern city that day carried Boris, and it also car- ried two of the Secret Service men, the two cleverest and least scrupulous of those at- tached to Count d'Annenkoff's entourage. Boris knew his passport would be delayed a day or two, and, on reaching the frontier, he was resigned to his fate. He took rooms at a hotel and telegraphed constantly to his uncle ; but got no reply. The officials told him the wires were down. On the fourth day, har- assed and dismayed beyond endurance, he grew desperate. 256 THE LEVELLER A man came to him. "Barin," he said, "you look troubled. You are awaiting a pass- port that is delayed ; is it not so ? Now, I am a poor man and sometimes a poor man will take a risk. For a hundred roubles I will put you in a sack and drive you in my farm- er's wagon across the frontier. I am a dealer in potatoes, and the sentries all know me. I can pass you." "A hundred roubles?" Boris pulled out his purse at once and counted out the money. "How soon, how soon?" he asked anxiously. "To-night," replied the man; "to-night you will come to my house; I will take you there now and we will cross the frontier before dawn. You are a big fellow, barin," he went on, smiling, "but I don't think we will have any difficulty in bundling you in. Once over the frontier, you know " "Yes, once over the frontier," repeated Boris, the gloom in his face disappearing as his spirits rose buoyantly. He left his hotel near midnight, having changed his student's uniform and put on plain clothes. The peasant hurried him to his back yard, where the sleigh, with its sacks of potatoes, stood ready. The night was bitterly cold, but to facilitate his entrance into the THE LEVELLER 257 sack Boris insisted on removing his fur coat; then the peasant whipped up his horses, and they started on their journey. Cramped and numb with the cold, Boris listened to the swish of the steel runners over the frozen snow, and the rattle of the harness. With the true lightheartedness of the peasant, his driver was singing snatches of song and speaking endearingly to his three horses. Then they reached the frontier and a rough voice challenged the driver. A hurried con- versation, held in whispers, passed between some men ; then the man showed his papers. "Potatoes, potatoes!" cried a voice and a soldier began swinging a lantern over the sleigh. Suddenly Boris felt a hand passed over his arm. "Potatoes, potatoes! Oh, hey! Let us have a look at these potatoes. A new growth, my friend; a strange growth, on my soul!" A moment later two soldiers liberated Boris, and a fearful scene ensued. Boris stormed and swore. "Telegraph to Count d'Annenkoff! Find out if I am not Count Gourowsky, his nephew!" he cried, shaking his fist in the faces of those nearest him ; but his jailers had their orders. They laughed at him, jeered him, and treated him as a mad- 258 THE LEVELLER man, till finally his actions and his statements became so peculiar they almost came to be- lieve he was one. Handcuffed and raging, he was thrown into a cell. An attack of acute pneumonia and brain fever sent Boris to the prison hospital the fol- lowing day, and the Countess for many a day and night following wept and prayed, as only a mother can, that her son be spared to her. At the end of a month, weak, emaciated, a shadow of his former self, he was on the road to convalescence. Still protesting that he wished to go at once to Berlin, he was taken instead to St. Peters- burg, where the heavy winter was just break- ing up, and all was desolation and dreariness, the streets filled with slush, the atmosphere moist and gloomy. He asked for the papers, especially the papers from Berlin. It was the Countess her- helf who gave them to him and offered to read them to him, but he shook his head. He wanted to read them himself. He read of Louboff 's success, and his face flushed as he saw the many flattering en- comiums of the German critics and the preva- lence of the term "colossal," Rubinstein's THE LEVELLER 259 very expression. She had given not one, but four concerts, and a certain Baron Eudolph Oppenheim, one of the richest bankers in Ger- many, had carpeted the estrade on every oc- casion with roses in her honor. Her triumph was complete. Boris still read on, hungry for news. He came on a paragraph which announced Frau- lein Malkiel's regretted quitting of the con- cert stage, and then followed the announce- ment of her marriage to Baron Oppenheim. Boris had a relapse. Specialists were called in, and for days he hung between life and death, then slowly the splendid vitality of his youth triumphed. One day, lying on his couch, morose, weak, miserable, only half conscious, a shadow came between him and the light, and looking up, he saw the leonine head of Anton Rubin- stein bending over him. Rubinstein took the chair by the side of the couch, and his big, cool hand clasped that of Boris in a mute sympathy. ' ' You have news ? ' ' asked Boris weakly. An eager light had crept into his eyes, weird and staring from his long illness. ' ' News ! Ah, my boy, women, women ! No, I have no news ; I never wish to hear her name 260 TEE LEVELLER again. She treated me as she treated you; as women always treat us, when we are fools enough to trust them, or expect anything from them. I came just to see you." "Ah, to gloat 'over me again?'* A pained expression crossed Rubinstein's mobile face. ' ' Gloat ? " he said questioningly. "Yes; what was it you said that day in the carriage, the the last time I saw you and her? Oh, Anton Gregoriewitch, gloat, gloat; I have suffered suffered the agonies of the damned I am suffering ! ' ' "And to no purpose." "Anton Gregoriewitch, can you explain things?" Rubinstein shrugged his shoulders and the expression of his face was ironical in the ex- treme. "No," he replied, "I never try where women are concerned. I have lived through it all. I know women. Why, "he paused, looked quickly at Boris, and then continued steadily, yet with apparent effort: "I left Russia in 1854; my first great tour. I left a girl then, right here in St. Petersburg ; a girl I loved passionately; a singer; her name well, no matter I could have sworn THE LEVELLER 261 then an oath before Heaven that if ever woman loved a man, she loved me. She was my inspiration. I went from town to town, doing my best, gathering laurels, gathering them only to lay at her feet. I returned" Rubinstein stopped short; over his expres- sive features there passed a look of agony and scorn ; then he laughed with a bitterness that made Boris shiver "and I found her married. ' ' Eubinstein put his hand to his forehead a moment, then he went on passionately: "Did I find a reason ? No ! No ! Women and rea- son are not partners. Woman is, has been, and always will be, an enigma; the crudest of all enigmas." "You got over it." "DidI?" "Anton Gregoriewitch, the world says so." "The world? Perhaps I loved other women. Yes, hundreds of them; but, well, there is something about the the first it is never quite the same ; the romance that is like no other dies forever when trust goes." The light had faded and Kubinstein rose and paced the floor restlessly. He stood in the center of the room, his head bent; then, going over to the grand pianoforte, he opened 262 TEE LEVELLER it. A moment later he commenced his own Leonore Ballade. As the opening chords of the grandest and weirdest of all tone pictures for the piano- forte smote the stillness, Boris sat up for the first time since his illness, his intellect alert, his brain keen to all the emotions born of the inspired playing of Russia's greatest pianist. All the agony and despair, the poignant grief of disappointed love, the desolation of hope- lessness, the soul weariness and revolt of harassed passion, rang out in the music. Boris, listening, could feel the blood recede from his heart, his hands grow numb. The amazing technique of the piece that the greatest of latter-day pianists find insur- mountable seemed but a plaything to the composer. The difficulties he himself had created had no place in his memory. He was wrestling only with passions and emotions, exhausting the gamut of human pain and suf- fering, of terror and despair, playing as few ever had heard him. When he had finished Boris looked up in exhausted silence. The room was in semi- darkness, and, rising, Rubinstein himself turned on the lights ; then he came slowly over to where Boris was. TEE LEVELLER 263 Boris had fallen back on his pillows ; he lay staring up at the mobile face, with its strong lines and shadows of suffering and passion, its magnetic charm that had conquered thou- sands, its conscious power and majesty of genius. Looking, Boris no longer marveled at the absolute devotion which had once so angered him that Louboff gave to Anton Rubinstein. He saw him as she saw him, a Titan among men. Eubinstein came nearer and passed his hand lightly over the hair and forehead of Boris, gently and tenderly, as a woman might. 11 Eh bien, mon camarade, camarade in dis- illusion, camarade in misery, camarade in our knowledge of women." 1 ' You have not forgotten yet T ' ' "Forgotten?" Rubinstein's voice was soft and almost caressing in its misery. "There are some things one never forgets till the grave ; and then, who knows ? Some say hell, or heaven others Nirvana. ' ' He laughed shortly and extended his hand. "I must go now. You will brace up and come and see me. One must not lose one's man- hood because a woman has broken faith. The world is big and its interests are many." He 264 THE LEVELLER paused, looked searchingly at Boris, threw back his head and gave Boris one of his powerful handshakes. * * You will take my ad- yice, and you will come and see. me," he re- peated. "Some day, cher Maitre." "Good; I shall look forward to seeing you. fYou are very sympathetic to me, Boris Alex- anderowitch. Au revoir." 11 Au revoir, Anton Gregoriewitch. Thank you so much for coming," said Boris grate- fully, as he watched him to the door; then the heavy curtains hid him from view the great composer had passed out of his life for- ever. It was springtime at last. Over in the Islands the birds were singing, thrushes and blackbirds piped in the lilacs, the air was balmy with the odor of flowers, the waters were alive with pleasure craft, the woods with laughter and the revelry of merrymak- ers. Boris, heeding Rubinstein's advice, got out of his sick bed and drove one day to the Gou- rowsky Palace. From the grasses he picked a bunch of the big double violets, "just to show her," he muttered, "that I at least keep my promise." THE LEVELLER 265 He sent no note ; there was nothing he could say; he knew she would understand, and Count d'Annenkoff, feeling the glory of spring and softened by it, let the pretty flow- ers be forwarded. CHAPTER XXIV. Ten years later Russia was in one of her periodical throes of financial distress; there were rumors of wars and internal troubles. Paid agents circulated in the various Eu- ropean cities statements that the time was ripe for a new loan and the great banking houses made their calculations and came for- ward with plans. Boris Alexanderowitch, who occupied a re- sponsible position in the Ministry of Finance, one day opened a letter from Baron Rudolph Oppenheim. A strange thrill of curiosity and disgust shot through him as he took up the letter. This was the writing of the man who was her husband the man who had usurped his place. How neat, how well-formed was his caligraphy, how polished and elegant the style of the crisp, well-chosen sentences. Boris laid the letter before his chief, was directed to reply to it, and a week later the great wiz- ard of finance, the man whose power was greater than that of kings, arrived in St. Petersburg. It was to be a great loan, a loan of mil- 266 THE LEVELLER 267 Hards ; but, in spite of all the secrecy with which such matters are surrounded and guarded, the loan was soon openly discussed and commented on, and the presence of the great European banker, said the gossips, made its signing a certainty. To such an ex- tent and so daring was the gossip and rumors grew so wild and false that finally the money market became unsettled, and in consequence the wily old banker went back to Berlin with nothing accomplished. The Tsar's advisers saw a crisis ahead. Money was needed and needed badly, but the chances for getting it most unpropitious. The Russian Minister of Finance had a difficult task before him. Even the most courageous of the banking houses held off just then from taking risks. If, however, the mountain would not go to Mahomed, then Mahomed must go to the mountain. The matter formed a discussion in the Imperial Council, and sud- denly the president, Count d'Annenkoff he had given up the portfolio as Minister of the Interior some years previously said suddenly to the Minister of Finance: "My nephew, Boris Alexanderowitch, is intimate, or was, rather, with Madame Oppenheim she is a Russian, you know send him to Ber- 268 TEE LEVELLER lin. If any one can manage this matter, he can. The baron is the only one who has made us any practical offer. ' ' The Minister of Finance knew Count d'An- nenkoff 's advice was always valuable, and as a last resort he accepted it. Boris received his orders in silence. It was a great honor for so young a man; but he showed no sign of emotion or elation. He made his preparation speedily and went on what was practically his first vacation in ten years. These years had made great changes in Boris Alexanderowitch. The laughing, open- hearted youth, had given place to a man, gloomy, morose, silent, almost sullen in de- meanor. He was a diplomat, nothing more; the youngest of all diplomats, and the most dangerous of rivals ; a diplomat without vices and without distractions. A worker, pure and simple, he had gone from step to step rapidly ; almost too rapidly, for it had made him many enemies; but even these recognized in him the coming man. His family had worked for him ceaselessly, the prestige of his uncle had helped him enormously, and his own industry and faithfulness had done the rest. As his uncle had predicted, in spite of many THE LEVELLER 269 setbacks, Boris concluded his difficult task satisfactorily. When the matter was all set- tled, all that remained being clerical work and the signatures of those concerned, which were to be attached later in St. Petersburg, the Baron invited Count Gourowsky to his castle on the Rhine. "I want you to know my wife. I ought not to say it, perhaps," he added gallantly, "but I must : she is the most charming and beauti- ful woman in Germany. She was a pupil of Rubinstein, and she will be delighted to wel- come you, I know. As a matter of fact, let me tell you, it was the Baroness who really talked me into this loan." Boris bowed. He tried to say something, but no words would come. In that moment his mind was one wild, bewildering jumble of emotions. * ' Let me show you her photograph. ' ' "No." Boris stood up. "I- Why " he went on as calmly as he could. "I do not know 'if the Baroness remembers me, but I knew her when she was a pupil of Rubin- stein's." "Oh, indeed? Good; then all the more rea- son you should come at once and renew the acquaintance. This time I insist. My wife" 270 THE LEVELLER he went on somewhat thoughtfully ' ' is such a strange woman; she keeps to herself too much. She shuns society, yet people run after her constantly. If you already know her there is no need for me to tell you how charm- ing she is. When I married her first, jealous people the world is full of them said : * She marries you for your money; wait, see how she will neglect you,* but year by year she shows me instead new proofs of her devotion. "We are so happy together, ah," went on the old man, his eyes suspiciously moist, "it is hard to believe it, but, when I urge on her to have people to our house, to go out, to amuse herself , she always says, smiling : 'No. "Why should we have people here? Let us instead have a quiet evening, just you and I, Ru- dolph.' " Every fresh word the Baron uttered seemed to stab Boris more deeply, and his voice was still and constrained as he said coldly : "You are most fortunate." "Fortunate? Surely, so fortunate that sometimes I doubt the evidences of my own senses, that I I should have the love of so incomparable a woman. Why, the last ten years of my life have been one long dream. Paradise itself." THE LEVELLER 271 Boris made a gesture of impatience. He could stand no more; his very heartstrings seemed cracking. The Baron turned his sur- prised eyes on him. ''Pardon me," he said, smiling. "I rhapsodize, and, as the saying goes, there is no fool like an old fool; but, believe me, this time I am not altogether one. You will come and judge for yourself. I have still to persuade you, have I? Do come, my wife will be so delighted. She has everything Eussian or belonging to Russia on the brain. She speaks nothing else when she can, and two-thirds of our servants are Russian." Boris hesitated. "What good to reopen the old wound!" was his first decision; then an uncontrollable desire to see her once more overcame him, a desire he found himself un- able to combat got the better of his judgment, and he accepted. It was Friday afternoon, and then and there the Baron wanted to take him to his country place, but Boris pleaded business, and promised to be with him the day following. "It would not do to take her by surprise," he thought. Once again he passed a night of inquietude and sleeplessness, such as those she had caused him in his early manhood. The old 272 THE LEVELLER fever came over him and he was back in the past, to the scenes of his student life, living over again all the vivid events of his meet- ing with Louboff, the night with Eubinstein, the delirium of his last days of happiness. "Why do I worry? Why do I still think of her? She deserted me," he thought bitterly. "Deserted me to marry Oppenheim, a man of millions, old, greedy, horrible," and the wrinkled face of the famous banker, hand- some and benevolent though it was, rose up before him as he saw it distorted through his jealousy yellow, hawknosed, and repulsive. The Baron met him at the station, and in the gorgeous sunlight of a May afternoon they drove through the enchanting loveliness of the Ehine scenery. Again Boris could feel his heart beating as when a youth, the blood surging madly through his veins, in that thrilling, rapturous excitement like unto no other. They stopped before a great feudal pile, once the home of a prince of the blood, and bought by the mil- lions of the shrewd and lucky financier. * ' This is her home, the home for which she sold our happiness," Boris told himself, and he tried to hate the beauty about him, to find ugliness, to infuse into himself the bitter- THE LEVELLER 273 ness he knew was right to feel against her. "Baroness Oppenheim," said the man- servant, in response to the rapid inquiries of the Baron, "is in the music-room." Away at the end of a great Gothic chamber Boris saw a white figure. She came rapidly toward them, her hand outstretched, her white chiffon draperies sweeping the polished oak floor noiselessly, her cheeks pink as the early roses she wore. Then once more her hand was clasped in his, he looked down into the star-like eyes, as, with a flush spreading to the roots of his golden hair, he bent and kissed the hand she gave him. "Will she dare salute me Russian fashion on the forehead," Boris wondered in agoniz- ing nervousness, as he feared for a moment as if his reason was leaving him. Ten years had not changed her; they had given a greater dignity to her manner, a rounder contour to her always sylph-like form; that strange, elusive something, mys- terious and haunting, which marriage gives to some women, had but added to her charm. The Baron excused himself; Louboff and Boris sat down. For a moment they could find nothing to say, then his confused gaze stole to her hand; 274 THE LEVELLER she still wore his betrothal ring of tur- quoises. 1 'I have to thank you," she began at last, "for the bunch of violets you sent from the Islands; they came sweet and lovely." She had remembered that. She dared to remind him. "And I, Madame," he answered, his voice glacial in its hauteur, as he bowed ironically, "I have to thank you for months and years of misery." He had thrown down the gauntlet the very moment of his arrival. She raised her lovely eyes to his, sad and eloquent in their reproachfulness. "You are very great," she replied gently, "I have watched your career, and that, that at least, you owe to me." He looked at her in amazement. "Our betrothal was a mistake from the first," she continued agitatedly. "I knew it all along ; I told you at the time and the night your mother pointed it all out to me." "Ah, the night I was sent for, to play cards," he broke in. "Yes. Well, I made up my mind there must be a sacrifice and I was the one who had to make that sacrifice. ' ' THE LEVELLER 275 "But, was it a sacrifice?" he inquired with pointed sarcasm. Her voice broke and trembled as she replied softly: "Boris, I gave up my art lest you should think that had come between us; I have married the best man on earth, a man noble, philanthropic, clever but I only married to save you ; I married because till I was bound hand and foot I could not feel sure of myself. It was not a marriage of inclina- tion or of greed, and do not forget that there is forty years' difference in age between my husband and myself. ' ' Then she held up her hand with a half sob. * ' See, ' ' she added pite- ously, "I wear your ring." He grasped her hand roughly. * l Then you love me still?" he cried passionately. "You love me as I still love you? Yet you allowed worldly considerations to come between us. Oh, Louboff, where was your trust?" "I acted for the best; I acted for your good; I made a mistake, perhaps, and yet" she added in a lighter tone, as she looked up at him "you are great you " "Louboff!" he cried, his voice ringing clear and far through the room, the acoustics of which were perfect, "you worked me the greatest wrong woman ever worked on man; 276 THE LEVELLER you blasted my life, and yet I love you still, and, good God, you love me still ! Oh, sweet- heart, sweetheart ! ' ' She jumped to her feet. " Boris, Boris," she said quickly, "hush! I am another man's wife now, and he is good, so good; he has done all in his power to make me happy. I cannot listen to you. Put the old Louboif from your thoughts; she is dead, or worse than dead; be yourself, control yourself. Come, ' ' she added, after a pause of poignant emotion to both, "let me show you my rose garden ; the air will do you good. ' ' She went forward as she finished and for a moment, as she passed beyond the silk cur- tains to the window leading to the terrace, he hesitated, seeing nothing but one blur of the things before his vision, then he went after her. Two minutes later there tottered from an inner room the bent, decrepit figure of the old Baron, his face ghastly pale, his gray head bent in utter dejection. CHAPTEE XXV. Boris arrived in St. Petersburg with the good news that the Baron was to follow in a few days to sign the loan, just as soon as all the innumerable details could be arranged. He was welcomed enthusiastically by his col- leagues at the Ministerium. His chief com- plimented him highly on his success, promis- ing to lay the matter specially before the Tsar. Boris listened with apathy, and for the first time in his career turned a deaf ear to the call of duty. Matters of importance needed consideration, a mass of correspond- ence awaited him, but, try as he would, he could not saddle his attention to work. The second day after his arrival in St. Petersburg, after placing the wreath Louboff had given him on Eubinstein's grave in the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, Boris asked for a few days' leave of absence and started immediately for Gourowsky. The memory of the one evening he had spent with the Baroness Eudolph haunted and unnerved him. In her rose garden Loub- off had exercised a dignity toward him that hurt him. 277 278 THE LEVELLER She would not let him speak of himself nor of his feelings, studiously avoiding all men- tion of her own, and she addressed him throughout as Boris Alexanderowitch. It was of Russia she spoke; Russia, and always Russia. "I have wanted so much to go back," she said sadly, "and perhaps now I will some day. Oh, Boris Alexanderowitch, it is im- possible to realize how dear the land of one's birth and early associations can be till one is denied access to it. The snow and the desola- tion, our beautiful sudden spring, the steppes, the peasants, the church bells booming in the frosty air all the Byzantine loveliness, so peculiarly a part of our country. Ah, what would I not give for a sight of it I For a drive down the Nevsky or to scent one of those wild northern breezes that blow over the Neva." "You can love it like that, a land that has treated you so harshly?" Boris thought, and as he noted the melancholy droop of her lovely mouth, he felt like saying things that were wild and unreasonable. Their leavetaking was simple. He shook hands with her, kissed her hand, and, turning away, asked himself, was this really a part- THE 'LEVELLER 279 ing! Could it be that, after so many years of misery and misunderstanding, she was al- lowing him to go away without one promise or token of her affection? "Ah!" he told himself bitterly, "she is a comedienne; she has never loved me, never!" Then he looked down into her eyes and the agony he read there made his heart beat and the blood rush to his temples. He paused, looked back, tried to say something, but the old Baron was be- side him, and the next moment he had entered the carriage and Louboff stood on the steps waving adieu, her face white as death. How the journey back was accomplished Boris never knew, for to him it passed as a dream. On reaching St. Petersburg he had pulled himself sufficiently together to give lucid answers to the many questions put to him and make his report, then he collapsed. When he arrived at Gourowsky, unheralded and unexpected, his mother met him, enthusi- astic delight in her welcome. "Boris, Boris, what lucky wind blows you here? This is indeed a joy I had not looked for." Something in the expression of his face alarmed her. He made no effort to return her embrace; he stood stiff and unbending on the threshold. 280 THE LEVELLER "What what is it, Boris? Has anything happened?'* she asked, alarmed. "Mother," he said at last, "I want to be alone. I am upset. I have just arrived from Berlin, as you know; from Berlin a journey I should have made ten years ago, ' ' he added, concentrated bitterness in his voice, his blue eyes bent on her disdainfully. "Boris, Boris, you have seen her?" "Yes." "And " "Mother, why go over it? You have been a good mother to me perhaps but when you came between us " Emotion overmastered him, he turned quickly and left her presence. For several days she saw nothing of him. Making a pretext of looking over the estate he slept at the house of his overseer, spend- ing his days riding and roaming through the woods. "It was better as I thought it, during the last ten years," he told himself bitterly. "A man can live down the inevitable, but this this that Louboff should love me yet, work me so grievous an injury and that my mother " The burden of his thoughts seemed greater THE REVELLER 281 than lie could bear ; the quiet and loneliness of Gourowsky threw him entirely on his own re- sources. Night or day it seemed he could not get away from himself and his trouble even for a minute. " Boris Alexanderowitch is mad," said his people among themselves, and they went with weird tales to the Countess, who listened ap- palled. Before a week was over a telegram came for him from the Ministerium. He had then not been seen for several days and the Coun- tess herself, half maddened by agonizing doubts and fears, was one of the seekers. They traced him at last, several miles away to the house of a peasant, and the Countess Gou- rowsky threw herself on her knees before him. "Oh, Boris," she cried, bursting into tears, "thank God you are living, I I feared " The expression of his face was ironical. * ' No, mother, no ; not that, ' ' he said quietly, ' ' only cowards do that. ' ' Then he tore open the telegram. "Come at once," it ran, signed by the Min- ister of Finance. "There must be work ahead," he thought, "much work or they would not send for me." An hour later he was speeding as fast as steam could take him. 282 TEE LEVELLER On reaching St. Petersburg he went straight to the Ministerium and was ushered at once into the office of his chief. ' ' Gourowsky, " said the latter looking up hastily, "where have you been? I had ex- pected that when you knew the loan was in danger you would have come back without summoning. ' ' "The loan in danger?" queried Boris. "Yes, Baron Oppenheim is dead." Without a word or sign of warning, Boris Alexanderowitch fell face forward uncon- scious at the feet of the Minister. He could never account for it himself, nor could the doctors hastily summoned. Ten minutes after they had revived him he was in full possession of all his senses and an hour later he was at his desk. CHAPTEB XXVI. During the week that Boris had idled at Gourowsky disquieting telegrams reached the Eussian Ministry of Finance. Baron Op- penheim had been stricken with paralysis. His journey was delayed. Then had come the telegram announcing his death. This latter created consternation. Would the loan fall through? Would the Baron's decease make any difference? were the ques- tions that agitated the Ministers. Boris brought all his energies to bear on the situation. He was once more cool headed, keen, alert of intellect. Couriers were at once despatched and telegrams began to pour in on the banking house in Berlin. "Yes," ciphered the dead banker's repre- sentatives, "it may make a difference. The enormous fortune of the Baron has passed absolutely to his wife, it remains with her." Boris laid the telegram before the Council of the Emperor and Count d'Annenkoff, reading it, made a gesture of hopelessness. "That settles it," he said calmly. "The Baroness Oppenheim is a Russian Jewess 283 284 THE LEVELLER and the game is hers. She holds trumps. We may as well acknowledge ourselves beaten." Boris smiled. The other Ministers were equally as pessimistic as the Count. Boris made no move to allay their fears. He had no voice in the Council, he was merely acting as secretary to the chief; but on returning home with the latter, he said quietly: "Prince, sleep quietly and comfortably, do not let this thing worry you, just give them time to bury the Baron. Rest assured the loan is made." Two days later another Council was called hastily and Count d'Annenkoff, strangely elated and jubilant, was reading the contents of the latest cipher telegram to his colleagues. Boris was looking straight at him and for a moment as the old statesman felt the glance he was cowed by the triumph and resentful scorn that seemed to blaze at him from his nephew's eyes. He paused, confused, stam- mered, and for the first time lost his self- control. Then he delivered his message. The Russian Jewess in the end had forgot- ten old wrongs and proved herself a patriot. The great loan was made. ** *****# A year later, Boris, agitated but smiling, THE LEVELLER 285 was walking up and down the platform of the railway station waiting for the train from Berlin. It was early summer and the scorch- ing sun beat fiercely down on the streets of the city. The train steamed in slowly and LouboiT, her lovely face radiant with joy and happi- ness, waved from her far-off position on the platform a gay recognition. One moment more and they were together. People descending from the train, and those awaiting relatives, stared at the fero- city of his embrace; then they smiled. A group of moujiks chewing sunflower seeds in happy contentment looked, too, and nudged each other, but of all this Louboff and Boris were blissfully unconscious. ''Is it not as I said? Is it not as I said!" Boris cried joyfully. " Beloved, I saw it all, as it was, not you. You are back in Eussia, as I always told you you would, and to-mor- row will see you my wife. ' ' " Boris, Boris," said Louboff, as she dis- engaged herself from his clasp and turned to greet his mother, who had just arrived. 11 Welcome home, welcome to Eussia," the older woman said with a catch in her voice. ''Welcome, my daughter." 286 THE LEVELLER "Baroness, may I, too, offer my congratu- lations and my wishes for your happiness?" It was the suave, high-bred tones of Count d'Annenkoff that fell on her ear, and Louboff turned, and offered him her hand with a smile that made even him marvel at her beauty. The Gourowsky palace in the Islands was all lit up. Boris and Louboff themselves would have preferred a simple wedding, but the Tsar had intimated a wish to see his youngest Minister's marriage, and a great ball terminated the ceremony which had been solemnized in St. Isaac's with all the pomp and stateliness known to the Orthodox Church. At last the Tsar and Tsaritza left, the other guests quickly followed, and Louboff and Boris were, for the first time that even- ing, alone. Dawn was creeping over the waters and the forest, the heavens in the East shone resplendent with intermingling hues of gold and rose. All at once it seemed to Louboff and her husband that nature awoke. A sweet piping from a thrush in the lilac bushes was answered by its mate ; the call of a blackbird sounded in the distance; then every twig and blade of grass, every tree-top THE LEVELLER 287 gave sign of movement in the first cool loveli- ness of the dawn. The darkness of night was over, the light grew stronger and stronger and far up in the blue of the heavens a lark commenced its wild, sweet paeon of gladness. His arm stole about her, his lips sought hers in one long kiss of passionate delight; then the soft tones of his voice smote her ear and mingled with the lark's song, blither and more triumphant in their intensity : "Oh, my love, my love," he cried. "We belong to each other, forever!" THE END. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. Uft'AO FB 1 4 1994 MTI LI- URL FEB071994 lifiifiiiiii Bill If Ij /I II A 000 142 825*