" 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 th<j 
 knowledge that eventually, unless some 
 miracle intervened, it would mean their part- 
 ing. 
 
 How the day ever passed he knew not, till 
 at eight o'clock he found himself in Rubin- 
 stein's dimly lit salon watching for her com- 
 ing with a mingled agony and joy that seemed 
 to gnaw at the very vitals of his being. 
 
 "It must be a parting forever," said his 
 reason to him. "Between Louboff and my- 
 self, come what will, there can be no part- 
 ing," cried his heart. 
 
 At last there was a ring at the doorbell. He 
 heard her greet Matve as the latter removed 
 her cloak; then she came in and stood in the 
 center of the floor, looking at him. 
 
 Boris waited till the footsteps of Matve 
 had passed through the dining-room and 
 down the long passage to the kitchen, then he 
 came forward. 
 
 "Louboff." There was a wail of reproach 
 and suffering in the deep, mellow tones of his 
 voice. 
 
 With a gesture of passion that unnerved 
 him completely, she put her two hands out to 
 him. 
 
 "I got your letter," she began, "and "
 
 146 THE LEVELLER 
 
 "You did not answer it." 
 
 "Because I could not. I will explain 
 everything. I will tell you later. ' ' Then she 
 drew nearer to him. "Oh, Boris, Boris, my 
 friend," she cried in anguish, "do not desert 
 me now." 
 
 His arms were about her on the moment. 
 
 "Not now nor ever, sweetheart!" he cried, 
 his arms tightening as he kissed her in a 
 paroxysm of delight upon finding that his 
 heart had gained the ascendency rather than 
 his head. Then looking down into her startled 
 eyes, he said softly. "Louboff, I love thee 
 love thee better than heaven or my soul. ' ' 
 
 The familiar "thee" made her head swim 
 with delirious joy; the passionate protest of 
 the whole sentence from him, Boris the 
 Orthodox, first elated and then appalled her. 
 
 "Boris, Boris, this, can it be " 
 
 "Can it be? Sweetheart, I speak in earn- 
 est, in deadly earnest. I do not know how we 
 are to arrange it, but you can if you will ; you 
 must marry me." 
 
 "I? A Jewess!" 
 
 He caught her hand between his hands. 
 1 1 Do not say that ! Do not say that ! Jewess, 
 Nihilist, anything forget all I have said; 
 only listen and believe me when I tell you that
 
 THE LEVELLER 147 
 
 I love you, and that I care not what happens. 
 You can make hell itself my paradise. ' ' 
 
 "Boris, I am no Nihilist, I swear it," she 
 
 added earnestly. "I Ah, let me tell 
 
 you." 
 
 She led him to a divan, and, sitting side by 
 side, his arm about her, she told him in gasps, 
 with tears, brokenly, her story from the mo- 
 ment she had left him the night he had 
 brought her home and Michel had almost 
 struck her for not finding out the particulars 
 of d'Annenkoff's departure, and then had 
 kept her locked in her room till his arrest had 
 freed her. 
 
 "But, LoubofF, you would not have wormed 
 the secret from me, would you?" he asked 
 pleadingly. 
 
 "My beloved, you yourself are the best 
 witness. Did I try?" 
 
 "No, no, no!" he cried gratefully. 
 
 They began to talk of Michel's arrest and 
 after a while she stood up in her agitation 
 and laid her hands on his shoulder. 
 
 "It is folly," she said bitterly; "pure folly. 
 The idea of any future for us together is ab- 
 solutely impossible. Probably they will exile 
 me and my father. My father is preparing 
 for it; he expects it; he is waiting for it. I
 
 148 THE LEVELLER 
 
 know, myself, something will happen; and 
 
 you Ah, Boris! Your career is here, 
 
 your home is here, your mother is here, and 
 
 I " She looked up at him yearningly 
 
 and then burst into tears. 
 
 "Louboff, you will never leave me," he 
 cried hopefully. "You will stay as my wife. 
 You must come to my uncle; you must tell 
 what you know." 
 
 "No, no, no!" she almost screamed, her 
 eyes dilated with horror. * * Not for ten thou- 
 sand lives not if Siberia faced me to-night ! 
 Buy my happiness through the misery of an- 
 other!" 
 
 "Then I alone must manage things," he 
 cried sturdily, ' ' and believe me, I can, if only 
 I know that you trust me and that you re- 
 nounce Nihilism forever." 
 
 "I never was a Nihilist," she said quickly; 
 "never really at heart. I know the wrongs 
 of Russia to my race, and I ought to be per- 
 haps even," she went on meditatively, "I 
 was, till the day I I met you. ' ' 
 
 Her answer enchanted him; his face 
 flushed with pleasure. 
 
 "Louboff, my beloved, nothing nothing 
 shall part us," he murmured rapturously. 
 "If necessary we shall see the Tsar himself,
 
 THE LEVELLER 149 
 
 and you you will come," he added, laying 
 particular stress on the "will" as he smiled 
 tenderly down at her, "to my uncle and tell 
 him the truth just tell him why Michel 
 locked you up. You are no Nihilist, my be- 
 loved, and I will not have it that this dread- 
 ful suspicion overshadow you." 
 
 "What would he think to see us come in 
 together?" she asked smiling, the tears glis- 
 tening on her long lashes. 
 
 ' * Think, nothing. He knows I love you. I 
 told him all." 
 
 "All." Her voice was low and penetrated 
 through and through with horror. "You 
 told him all? My God, Boris!" she cried 
 despairingly. "Then I am lost I am 
 trapped." 
 
 "Hush, hush, sweetheart," he broke in 
 soothingly. "You are unnerved." 
 
 "Oh, Boris, you will see! You will see! 
 This means Siberia for me." 
 
 The prophetic ring in her voice alarmed 
 him, and the sudden terror that had attacked 
 her communicated itself to him. 
 
 They sat looking at each other blankly, 
 then Boris stood up, his face set and white. 
 
 Along the passage from the kitchen they 
 could hear the tread of spurred boots, the
 
 150 THE LEVELLER 
 
 voices of men, and Matve's shrill outcries of 
 
 distress. 
 
 His grasp tightened on her hands. Then 
 the curtains leading to the salon were rudely 
 parted, and an officer with two policemen 
 entered and saluted them, the dry, hard tones 
 of his voice falling like a knell on their ears 
 as he said peremptorily: 
 
 "Louboff Antonivna Malkiel, you are my 
 prisoner. "
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 As the two policemen started forward to 
 take their prisoner, Boris, with an oath, 
 jumped before Louboff. 
 
 "Swine," he shouted in the Russian of the 
 
 people, "lay your hands on this lady, and 
 j 
 
 "Boris!" 
 
 It was Louboff who spoke, her voice cold in 
 its sternness. 
 
 The mere touch of her hand on his arm 
 seemed to recall him to his senses and to the 
 need of caution. 
 
 "You will serve me best by acquiescing in 
 this thing," she whispered. "I need the aid 
 of all my friends now. ' ' 
 
 Then suddenly she broke down and the ter- 
 rible emotion of the moment convulsed her. 
 
 Throwing her arms about his neck, she 
 clung to him and cried brokenly : 
 
 "Boris, Boris, my betrothed, no matter 
 what happens, remember that I love you ; that 
 your love has been the supreme happiness of 
 my life, and that I loved you the moment my 
 eyes first met yours." 
 
 151
 
 152 ,THE LEVELLER 
 
 As the men again came forward, she kissed 
 him on the mouth, and, turning swiftly, said 
 with a sob, nerve-racking in its despair : 
 
 "I am ready." 
 
 Like one turned to stone, Boris stood in the 
 ante-chamber, looking on, while Matve, his 
 eyes swimming with tears, cloaked Louboff 
 and took her incoherent message for Anton 
 Gregoriewitch. 
 
 Going down the stairs, she turned back once 
 more and gave Boris an appealing glance, 
 then the stalwart forms of the two policemen 
 hid her from view. Matve led Boris back to 
 the salon, and he sank into a chair, a sudden 
 paralysis seeming to come over all his senses. 
 
 Ten minutes later Anton Gregoriewitch 
 burst into the ante-chamber in his usual im- 
 petuous fashion, halting dumbfounded at the 
 attitude of the young man and tears of Matve. 
 He tossed back his hair and blinked his eyes. 
 
 "What is the matter?" he thundered. 
 
 "Oh, your Excellency, your Excellency " 
 began Matve. "Louboff Louboff has 
 been arrested," gasped Boris, his voice 
 strained and husky. 
 
 "Arrested!" 
 
 Rubinstein stood like a lion at bay. Lou- 
 boff, on whom he counted to do so much
 
 THE LEVELLER 153 
 
 for the prestige of Russian art! Arrested! 
 
 "Arrested?" lie repeated again, as he 
 looked from one to the other sternly. Then 
 he began to pace the room. Finally he came 
 over to Boris. 
 
 "Tell me things," he commanded. "Ex- 
 plain. By heaven, they shall not arrest her 
 not while Anton Rubinstein lives! She is a 
 genius, a marvel ; no woman pianist of to-day 
 can touch her. What has she done? Is it be- 
 cause her brother " He broke off. 
 
 Rapidly, eagerly, Boris told the story as he 
 knew it, and, listening, Rubinstein's face 
 underwent many changes ; then he drew a long 
 breath. 
 
 "So," he said, dropping, as he always did 
 when excited, into German. 
 
 He paused for a moment, then clapping his 
 hands, he said to Matve, who obeyed the sig- 
 nal at once : 
 
 "Find me a good horse and an intelligent 
 iswostschik. I give you two minutes." 
 
 Boris came up to him. 
 
 * ' What can I do T " he asked. 
 
 "Nothing; nothing," cried Rubinstein. 
 ' * Stay here. Do whatever the devil you please. 
 You are the cause of all this your uncle, at 
 least."
 
 154 THE LEVELLER 
 
 Then, seeing the blank dismay in the young 
 man's face, Rubinstein put his hand on his 
 shoulder and said more kindly : 
 
 1 ' Come along, if you like. ' ' 
 
 They got into their cloaks without help and 
 descended the staircase rapidly. Matve, out 
 of breath from running, stood uncovered in 
 the bitter cold, waiting to tuck them in. 
 
 "God guide you," he said piously, as they 
 started on their way, and Boris, removing his 
 cap, made the sign of the cross and said 
 "Amen" fervently. 
 
 Eubinstein, listening, smiled sarcastically; 
 then he directed the isivostschik to drive to 
 the palace of the Grand Duke Sergius. 
 
 "I go there," said Eubinstein to Boris, as 
 he tightened his fur collar closer about his 
 chin, "because it is the nearest." 
 
 In every Imperial palace of the city Eubin- 
 stein was known to some of the entourage. 
 Some of them were friends; some of them 
 were pupils, some old acquaintances, dating 
 from the days of the Grand Duchess Helene, 
 when Eubinstein himself held a post at Court ; 
 but all were devoted. 
 
 Where others would have found tedious for- 
 malities in being admitted, to Eubinstein all 
 palace doors were ajar, and on reaching the
 
 THE LEVELLER 155 
 
 Sergius residence it only took a moment till 
 they were conducted to the salon of chief 
 lady-in-waiting to the Grand Duchess. 
 
 The former came in, effusive in her greet- 
 ing, but as she listened to Rubinstein's mis- 
 sion her face became grave. 
 
 "The Grand Duke is now in his study/' she 
 said at length, "and it would be impossible 
 for me to bring him your message, much as I 
 would like to ; but I will see some of the gen- 
 tlemen in waiting and find out if they can do 
 anything. ' ' 
 
 After a long delay, during which Boris and 
 Anton Gregoriewitch exchanged perturbed 
 glances, an important personage, the military 
 governor of the household, gold lace and or- 
 ders decorating his uniform of guardsman, 
 came toward the two. It was his first meet- 
 ing with Rubinstein, of a personal nature, 
 and he seemed greatly elated over it. 
 
 After a few minutes' conversation he, too, 
 looked perturbed ; then he said gravely : 
 
 "We never disturb his Imperial Highness. 
 Now, if she, the Grand Duchess, would do, 
 she is much more accessible and just as apt 
 to be successful." 
 
 Rubinstein frowned. 
 
 "No, no," he said abruptly; "this is a mat-
 
 156 TEE LEVELLER 
 
 ter that presses. With her Imperial Highness, 
 it might take a week some days, at any rate 
 whereas the Grand Duke Sergius is the 
 Tsar's brother. He alone will do." 
 
 The Prince bowed and shrugged his shoul- 
 ders. Then he said after a pause, during 
 which Eubinstein outlined his mission. 
 
 "Well, I will see what I can do. You have 
 given me so much pleasure in my life, Anton 
 Gregoriewitch ; I am indeed happy to serve 
 you in any way in my power; although," he 
 added warningly, "if I know anything of the 
 Grand Duke and I have been in his service 
 fifteen years he is about the last person to 
 be approached on such a mission." 
 
 He went away smiling, apologizing in ad- 
 vance for any delay that might occur. When 
 he finally returned, his manner was gloomy. 
 
 "Just as I told you," he said with a shrug. 
 "This is what his Imperial Highness has to 
 say." 
 
 Rubinstein took the card and read aloud 
 hastily : 
 
 "A thousand regrets that I cannot grant 
 your request. Such people should be pun- 
 ished. SERGIUS." 
 
 For a moment Anton Gregoriewitch looked 
 about him frowning, then he tore the card into
 
 THE LEVELLER 157 
 
 fragments and threw them down on the car- 
 pet, before the horrified eyes of the two royal 
 serviteurs. 
 
 "I thank you very much," he concluded, 
 bowing, then he shook hands with them and 
 went out, followed by Boris. 
 
 For a while Eubinstein stood on the steps 
 of the palace, glancing impatiently toward the 
 Anitchkoff palace, the residence of the Tsar. 
 Finally he said aloud : 
 
 "No, no; better try the Grand Duke Con- 
 stantine. He is an old friend." 
 
 Two obsequious lackeys of enormous size 
 ran ahead as Eubinstein began to descend the 
 steps, and held open the fur covering of the 
 sleigh, assisting him most politely. 
 
 "Your Excellency wishes to go where?" 
 
 "To the palace of the Grand Duke Con- 
 stantine. ' ' 
 
 There was a crunch of snow, and the feet 
 of the horses scattered it like powder in their 
 faces. They were once more off. 
 
 The lackeys of the Grand Duke Constan- 
 tine all knew Eubinstein, for he was a fre- 
 quent visitor at this palace, and he was ad- 
 mitted without delay to the small salon, where 
 the Grand Duke, with some officers, were play- 
 ing cards.
 
 158 THE LEVELLER 
 
 The Grand Duke greeted Rubinstein with 
 great cordiality, but as soon as Anton Gre- 
 goriewitch made known his errand he turned 
 to him with the patient reproach of manner 
 one would bestow on a petulant child. 
 
 "Ah, my dear friend," he said gravely, 
 "what you ask is utterly impossible. To dis- 
 turb the Tsar now, I could not dream of it; 
 to-morrow perhaps, although," he added sotto 
 voce, ' ' I hardly think even then I dare. My 
 sympathies are reported as ultra-revolution- 
 ary at Court, and it behooves me therefore in 
 these troublous times to be careful. One, you 
 know, has not only the Tsar to face; there is 
 also," he added, bending over till his mouth 
 almost touched Rubinstein's ear, "Pobiedo- 
 nostseff," and the Grand Duke ended with a 
 shrug of superb disdain. 
 
 Rubinstein bit his lip a moment, then he 
 said almost haughtily, so great was his disap- 
 pointment and surprise : 
 
 "Well, your Imperial Highness knows best. 
 A thousand pardons for disturbing you." 
 
 "Anton Gregoriewitch, " cried the Grand 
 Duke, jumping up, "you never could disturb 
 me ; your visits are always an honor ; you are 
 a big, whole-souled artist, and if I were 
 Tsar "
 
 THE LEVELLER 159 
 
 Eubinstein's handclasp was cordial, and the 
 momentary anger in his face died away. 
 
 Ten minutes later Boris and Anton Greg- 
 oriewitch were entering the courtyard of the 
 AnitchkofF palace, Eubinstein's face black in 
 its pessimism and gloom. 
 
 "The Lord Chamberlain?" 
 
 ' ' The Lord Chamberlain is not at home. ' ' 
 
 ' * Who is at home ! ' ' Rubinstein 's voice was 
 a roar. 
 
 "Why, why," stammered the man, "eh? 
 Every one." 
 
 "Well, tell 'every one/ " cried Eubinstein, 
 his face red with anger, "I want to see him." 
 
 A few minutes later an officer in a general's 
 uniform entered the room, and with a cry of 
 relief Eubinstein caught him by the two hands 
 and embraced him. 
 
 " General Killieff!" 
 
 "Anton Gregoriewitch!" 
 
 "You are just the man I want, General. I 
 must see the Tsar at once, on an affair of 
 great importance." 
 
 A mellow laugh rang out. 
 
 "You are joking, master." 
 
 "No, I am in earnest ; in deadly earnest." 
 
 "But it is near midnight." 
 
 Eubinstein had taken out his card and had
 
 160 THE LEVELLER 
 
 scratched on it in his clear handwriting: 
 
 "Anton Kubinstein most humbly craves an 
 audience of his Imperial Majesty." 
 
 General Killieff took the card, read it, then 
 laughed again, his florid, handsome, Slavonic 
 features beaming. 
 
 "You want me to have this presented?" he 
 asked incredulously. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Well, Anton Gregoriewitch, I do not know 
 how I am to do it if I can do it but one 
 must humor you." Calling an aide-de-camp 
 as he finished, he handed the latter the card 
 and ordered it delivered. 
 
 Ten minutes passed slowly ; Rubinstein was 
 visibly nervous, and the conversation was 
 desultory and uninteresting. 
 
 Then a pompous footman entered the room 
 and said loudly : 
 
 "His Imperial Majesty, Alexander Alexan- 
 derowitch, will receive General Anton Rubin- 
 stein. ' ' 
 
 Killieff looked astounded, Boris jumped to 
 his feet in his excitement, and Rubinstein's 
 .face flushed. Preceded by the lackey with 
 his gold stick, the trio hurried along up and 
 down staircases, through corridors, salons, 
 and ante-chambers, till they reached what
 
 THE LEVELLER 161 
 
 seemed the farthest end of the palace, the cor- 
 ridors of which were thronged with pages, 
 officers in order-decorated uniforms, and 
 Tartar sentries. 
 
 They entered an immense salon, and here 
 the guide beckoned Rubinstein alone, Boris 
 and General Killieff halting on the threshold. 
 
 * * His Excellency, Anton Gregoriewitch Ru- 
 binstein," announced the pompous lackey 
 loudly. 
 
 ''Anton Gregoriewitch Rubinstein, Sire," 
 said a general, and Rubinstein went forward 
 into the presence of the Tsar of all the Rus- 
 sias. 
 
 The light was subdued. Against a back- 
 ground of silver and Nile green, Boris caught 
 sight of a charming interior. Flowers were 
 everywhere ; great pots of growing roses and 
 azaleas. The Tsaritza sat reading some let- 
 ters. She nodded pleasantly to the Russian 
 composer, and the Tsar, Alexander III., a 
 man of enormous proportions, wearing the 
 uniform of the Preobragensky regiment, 
 turned slowly in the swivel chair before his 
 writing table of ebony. 
 
 "Oh," he said graciously, as Rubinstein 
 bowed low. "What is it that presses now, 
 Anton Gregoriewitch? A new conservatory?
 
 162 THE LEVELLER 
 
 A permanent orchestra? A new theatre?" 
 
 "Sire, the life of an artist. " 
 
 "Indeed!" Into the Tsar's florid face 
 there crept caution, and his blue eyes trav- 
 eled up and down the well-known features of 
 the great composer. 
 
 "Be seated and tell me what I can do." 
 
 When occasion required, Eubinstein had a 
 simple eloquence which could always com- 
 mand the attention of his hearer. This, with 
 all the force of his well-known personal mag- 
 netism, seldom left him in any lurch for long. 
 As he began his story the Tsaritza dropped 
 her letters and looked up to listen. The Tsar 
 kept his hand on the open page of the book 
 he had been reading, and his slow, penetrat- 
 ing glance wandered frequently to where a 
 doll lay on a sofa, covered with a silken 
 shawl: the plaything of one of his younger 
 children. Once or twice he stroked his thick 
 red beard thoughtfully, but he heard Eubin- 
 stein through. 
 
 In his story Rubinstein had softened 
 particulars, dwelling on Louboff's youth 
 and her immense talents. "Sire," he said, 
 "I pledge myself for her future behavior. 
 I " 
 
 This seemed to amuse the Tsar.
 
 THE LEVELLER 163 
 
 "What would you do?" asked his Majesty 
 smiling. ' ' Use the rod ! ' ' 
 
 Eubinstein gave a sigh of great relief. 
 
 "No, no, Sire; the exhortations of good, 
 every-day common sense and the commands 
 of a master." 
 
 The Tsar looked over at his wife for in- 
 spiration, and caught a sympathetic glance. 
 
 ' * Well, ' ' he began in his slow, precise way, 
 ' ' I never meddle in such affairs not, at least, 
 without consulting some of my people. ' ' Then 
 turning to an aide-de-camp, he said quietly: 
 "Telephone for his Excellency, Count d'An- 
 nenkoff , to come here without delay. ' ' 
 
 Eubinstein 's heart sank, and his expressive 
 features lost their look of recent hopefulness. 
 He pursed up his lips and knew that then or 
 never it was his task to use all his powers of 
 persuasion. He looked over at the Tsaritza; 
 then in lower tones he commenced the recital 
 of the love affair between Boris and Louboff. 
 All the world loves a lover, even a Tsar, and 
 Eubinstein noted that both the royal person- 
 ages listened with renewed interest. 
 
 "Appearances are against my pupil," fin- 
 ished Eubinstein earnestly, after ten min- 
 utes* rapid conversation, "and Count d'An- 
 nenkoff will doubtless raise many objections.
 
 164 TEE LEVELLER 
 
 but, Sire, you are beyond all prejudice, and 
 I ask your Majesty to grant this favor in the 
 name of Russian art. ' ' 
 
 The Tsar smiled. 
 
 "Your story interests me," he replied. 
 "The young girl, because of her artistic na- 
 ture, is doubtless impressionable and easily 
 led ; but you have spoken so much and so elo- 
 quently of music, you make me long to hear 
 some. It will be a treat for the Tsaritza and 
 myself." 
 
 Rubinstein rose at once, his face beaming. 
 He was in the humor; more, he was deter- 
 mined to play as he had never played before. 
 He opened the pianoforte himself, sat down, 
 and let his hands wander over the keys while 
 waiting until it was time to begin. 
 
 A moment later and the ante-chamber was 
 crowded: pages, lackeys, ladies and gentle- 
 men in waiting moved noiselessly nearer to 
 the door of the Tsar's salon, and then one 
 could hear the clocks ticking, so tense was 
 the silence as Rubinstein commenced the 
 G-major Nocturne of Chopin. 
 
 The Tsar kept time with his fingers on the 
 writing table before which he was seated ; the 
 Tsaritza, her head leaning on her hand, sat 
 spellbound, and Rubinstein played with all
 
 THE LEVELLER 165 
 
 the magical sway at his command. Under his 
 fingers the Nocturne was a beautiful love 
 lyric, and as he played it brought to the 
 hearts and minds of his audience a sense of 
 awe, of pathos, of that mysterious law which 
 guides and governs the human heart, of that 
 power which has made and wrecked empires. 
 That power before which all laws and human 
 reckoning are powerless. 
 
 As he finished with the two last chords, ex- 
 quisitely pianissimo, yet heard in the farthest 
 corner of the outer salon, the Tsar sighed, 
 then he smiled. 
 
 "Ah, how beautiful. What a gift is yours, 
 Anton Gregoriewitch ! ' ' 
 
 "More, more. Do not stop!" cried the 
 Tsaritza, her great black eyes flashing, and 
 Eubinstein, nothing loath, commenced the 
 C-minor Nocturne. 
 
 He was still playing when he caught sight 
 of Count d'Annenkoff's perturbed counte- 
 nance in the doorway, and a few seconds 
 later, when he had finished, the latter entered 
 and was announced in the silence which en- 
 sued. 
 
 "Ah, Count d'Annenkoff." 
 
 The Tsar's face was touched with deep 
 emotion: He seemed to have difficulty in
 
 166 THE LEVELLER 
 
 shaking off the thrall of the master's music. 
 He passed his hand across his face, and be- 
 fore ' Rubinstein had time to reach his seat, 
 he said to the Count : 
 
 "Annenkoff, Anton Gregoriewitch has come 
 to plead for the liberty of an artist, Louboff 
 Malkiel, his pupil. I " 
 
 He paused, looked at the hands of the crys- 
 tal timepiece on the table before him, which 
 had passed the hour of midnight, then re- 
 garding the Count fixedly, he said, decisively : 
 
 "I have granted his request. Your Ex- 
 cellency will see that this is attended to at 
 once." 
 
 The Count gave one quick and venomous 
 glance toward Rubinstein; the latter glared 
 back, then the Count said suavely with the in- 
 tuition of your true courtiers : 
 
 "Sire, your command will receive my in- 
 stant attention. The young woman is now 
 undergoing a cross-examination at my house. 
 I would humbly ask that this proceed, and," 
 he added sarcastically, "that Anton Greg- 
 oriewitch attend." 
 
 The Tsar put up his two hands. "A very 
 reasonable request," he said after regarding 
 the two men a moment. "When you have 
 finished with the young woman, deliver her
 
 THE LEVELLER 167 
 
 into the care of his Excellency, who has 
 pledged himself for her future good be- 
 havior. ' ' 
 
 Rubinstein dropped on his knees as he took 
 the hand the Tsar offered, and kissing it, said 
 gratefully : 
 
 4 'Sire, my humble thanks and most heart- 
 felt gratitude are yours.'* 
 
 "Rise, your Excellency," said the Tsar, 
 with his slow kindly smile. "You are Tsar 
 of a greater Empire than mine. It has given 
 me great pleasure to grant your request. The 
 Tsaritza and I thank you for the treat you 
 have given us in your beautiful music." 
 
 Ten minutes later Boris and Rubinstein 
 were once more in the outside freezing 
 atmosphere, joy and delight in the hearts of 
 each. 
 
 "To the Annenkoff palace," said the latter 
 gruffly, and side by side the two sleighs that 
 of the Minister of the Interior, with its pranc- 
 ing trio of thoroughbreds, silver harness, and 
 priceless robes of fur, and the humbler one 
 of Anton Rubinstein pulled out of the court- 
 yard and hurried down the Nevsky.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "We have outwitted the greatest diplomat 
 of the day," said Rubinstein with a chuckle, 
 as he nudged his companion roughly. 
 
 "But do you think you dare ever enter his 
 presence again?" asked Boris, with an 
 ominous shake of his head. 
 
 "I do not care. I snap my fingers at all 
 their scheming and intrigues. Of course, 
 d'Annenkoff is not the man to forget this. I 
 know he will cross my path in many things, 
 make it his business to do so especially re- 
 lating to the conservatory all of them know 
 my tendon Achilles. But you, how can you 
 crow? You are his nephew. I would not like 
 to be in your shoes, Boris Alexanderowitch ; 
 no, not for a hundred thousand roubles !" and 
 out on the stillness of the frosty night air 
 Eubinstein's laugh rang heartily and loudly. 
 
 "As long as she is safe," said Boris, in- 
 tense satisfaction in his tones, "I do not care; 
 I am satisfied. What happens to me is no 
 matter." 
 
 "So!" The expression of Rubinstein's 
 face changed instantly from gleeful banter to 
 
 168
 
 THE LEVELLER 169 
 
 surprised alarm. He gave his companion a 
 curious glance and said quickly : 
 
 "This, then, is a real love affair?" 
 
 "Nothing more real," Boris said, smiling. 
 
 "Your intentions are honorable?" 
 
 "Honorable! Great heavens, Anton Greg- 
 oriewitch, I would give my life's blood for 
 Louboff Antonivna." 
 
 "By that," Eubinstein went on in a dry 
 tone, "you mean you would love and cherish 
 her, protect her, marry her, in short?" 
 
 "The first moment possible." 
 
 "Indeed!" The snarl that accompanied the 
 exclamation was malignant in the extreme, 
 then a sudden passion began to convulse the 
 features of the great composer. 
 
 "And it is for this you think that I, Anton 
 Rubinstein, have deigned to beg favors from 
 these people for this you think I have made 
 an enemy of Annenkoff for this I have 
 played the lackey to Tsar and Grand Dukes, 
 to courtiers and Court fools to see Louboff 
 Malkiel your wife!" 
 
 The withering scorn of Anton Gregorie- 
 witch's tones struck Boris dumb. 
 
 "Anton Gregoriewitch ! " he gasped. 
 
 "And you think," went on the infuriated 
 composer, "I have spent days and weeks and
 
 170 TEE LEVELLER 
 
 years forming this talent and it is a talent, 
 the greatest I have found in Russia to see it 
 wasted in the salons of Petersburg, frittered 
 as a pastime to tickle the ears of a stupid 
 aristocracy. You think Louboff Malkiel will 
 gain by becoming Countess Gourowsky? " 
 
 " Anton Gregoriewitch, we love each 
 other," began Boris pleadingly. 
 
 "Love! Bah, Boris Alexanderowitch, love, 
 love? I do not speak against it. Love her, 
 take her for your sweetheart, rouse all the 
 passion in her nature if you will, but you 
 you talk of marriage! That is out of the 
 question, absolutely out of the question. 
 Young man, I tell you marriage for an artist 
 is death. " 
 
 Like a cameo, grim in its stern outline, the 
 clear-cut features of the young Russian shone 
 out against the blackness of his furs. 
 
 "You tell me this? You dare " he be- 
 gan. 
 
 "Dare? I. Boy, you jest. Yes, I dare. I 
 do more I command you to pour all your 
 love in her ear, make her life a paradise for a 
 time and then forget her. Bring the best 
 that is in her to life, make her love you, teach 
 her to love you all women have to be taught ; 
 and when you tire, as you will, women who
 
 THE LEVELLER 171 
 
 are artists never keep love they give too 
 much then leave her. That will be the mak- 
 ing of her as an artist. ' ' 
 
 Boris Alexanderowitch sat motionless, 
 doubting the hearing of his own ears. Rubin- 
 stein had worked himself into one of his un- 
 governable rages, and all that was satanic 
 and demoniacal in his nature was reflected in 
 his strong and powerful features. 
 
 ''He is mad; all real artists are mad," 
 Boris said to himself. 
 
 Eubinstein clenched his fist. "You hear, 
 you hear," he cried loudly, having waited in 
 vain for some reply. "Petersburg is full of 
 women women to marry; women to become 
 the mother of your children ; women to set at 
 the head of your household. But Louboff 
 Malkiel is not of this type ; she is not for you ; 
 she belongs to the world, to art ; meddle with 
 her career, and you will have me to answer 
 to." 
 
 They had reached the Annenkoff palace. 
 Boris stepped out, his heart beating loudly, 
 his limbs numb, partly with apprehension and 
 nervousness, partly with cold. A sudden fear 
 had firm hold of him. 
 
 Would they succeed, in spite of all his reso- 
 lutions, in taking Louboff from him? Was
 
 172 THE LEVELLER 
 
 there truth in what Anton Eubinstein had 
 
 pointed out so brutally? 
 
 "Well, Boris," broke in the suave tones of 
 his uncle's voice, "playing the part of. a 
 knight-errant? Come, you, too, must see this 
 seance out. Anton Gregoriewitch, you will 
 see your pupil in my cabinet, and perhaps 
 hear something that will make you regret 
 your thoughtless zeal of this evening." 
 
 In the wake of Count d'Annenkoff, Boris 
 and Eubinstein went through the corridors, 
 swiftly, no one speaking. 
 
 When they entered Count d'Annenkoff's 
 study they found it alive with officials. Lou- 
 boff, seeing them, gave a little cry, and 
 crouched back in her chair. 
 
 Boris was by her side on the instant. 
 
 "Courage, Louboff, sweetheart," he whis- 
 pered. "We have come from the Tsar; we 
 have your pardon. ' ' 
 
 All in the room rose at their entrance, but 
 at a curt, impatient motion from the Count, 
 they reseated themselves. Louboff was 
 ghastly pale; her lovely eyes, half -veiled in 
 confusion, sought those of Rubinstein ques- 
 tioningly, but he was looking straight ahead, 
 indifferent as a sphinx to his surroundings. 
 
 Boris seated himself where he could see
 
 THE LEVELLER 173 
 
 Louboff and encourage her, taking a chair be- 
 hind his uncle, who was directly facing her, 
 only the writing table being between the two. 
 
 "Well, your Excellency, we have put all 
 the questions you directed, but our success 
 has been er poor," said an individual in 
 uniform, who sat next the Minister of the In- 
 terior. 
 
 The Count ran his eye along the sheet of 
 paper lying on the table. He read the date 
 of Louboff's birth, her birthplace, the name 
 of her father and mother, her profession, and 
 then followed a long list of questions, to which 
 was affixed the reply: "I do not know." Sev- 
 eral of these questions were vital; the an- 
 swers to which, had they been given, would 
 have afforded the Government all the links 
 needed in various plots formed or being 
 formed. The Minister frowned as he read. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he said, addressing the 
 company in general, "has evidently told us 
 as much as she intends to tell, and it is there- 
 fore a waste of valuable time to prolong this 
 examination further; nevertheless, put these 
 questions over again; General Eubinstein 
 may find them instructive; he will certainly 
 find sedition comes as easy to some of his con- 
 servatory pupils as crotchets and quavers."
 
 174 THE LEVELLER 
 
 Rubinstein said nothing ; he had lit his cig- 
 arette and was smoking placidly. Then quietly 
 the harsh official voice read out the questions 
 to Louboff, and Louboff gave again answers 
 identical with those recorded. 
 
 Count d'Annenkoff 's fine features were sar- 
 castic, then at the close he said, with a smile 
 so cruel and pitiless it made Louboff shiver : 
 
 "Well, General, that will do. I will now 
 put a few questions myself. 
 
 "Louboff Antonivna, do you know Boris 
 Gourowsky 1 ' ' 
 
 She raised her eyes in startled surprise. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Was the acquaintance on your part pre- 
 meditated or made by chance I ' ' 
 
 On Boris' ears her answer fell like a thun- 
 derclap. 
 
 "Premeditated," she replied slowly, but 
 the blood seemed to recede even from her lips 
 and her eyes to dilate in the sudden anguish 
 that had her in its grip. 
 
 "Bravo, Mademoiselle," said the Count 
 quickly, and in sarcastic encouragement, "you 
 are evidently recollecting the oath you had 
 forgotten, and it is well, for we have letters to 
 your brother which prove this premeditation 
 and prearrangernent."
 
 THE LEVELLER 175 
 
 Then he turned and gave Boris a mocking 
 glance. 
 
 "And your object in this acquaintance- 
 ship ! ' ' went on the steady voice of the Count, 
 after a pause. 
 
 "To gather information for my brother." 
 ' ' You are a Nihilist, Louboff Antonivna 1 ' ' 
 "I am not. I do not think I am." 
 "Well, Louboff Antonivna, your master, 
 Anton Gregoriewitch, used his personal influ- 
 ence with the Tsar to-night and gained your 
 liberty. Some of the questions put to you just 
 now, and to which you refuse to reply, are 
 aimed at Nihilists and Nihilism. If you are 
 not a Nihilist, why do you refuse us an an- 
 swer?" 
 
 "Your Excellency, my brother is a prisoner, 
 and a Nihilist. I cannot implicate him. My 
 mouth is sealed for that reason." 
 
 "Ah." They were all looking at Louboff, 
 admiring her fearless loyalty. 
 
 "Well, suppose now," went on the Count 
 slowly and deliberately, "we gave you back 
 your brother, would your replies be other- 
 wise?" 
 
 She gave one piteous glance around, the 
 glance of a hunted animal. 
 "They might," she whispered, after long
 
 176 THE LEVELLER 
 
 hesitation, during which all eyes were di- 
 rected toward her. 
 
 "If so, then I can promise you your brother 
 will be with you to-morrow. ' ' 
 
 The Count made the promise resolutely, 
 and Louboff 's eyes filled with tears of joy and 
 emotion. 
 
 ' ' Oh, your Excellency ! ' ' she cried, half ris- 
 ing in her seat, as she stretched out her hand 
 in thanks. 
 
 The Count deliberately ignored her over- 
 ture. He signed to the General by his side to 
 begin once more the list of questions. 
 
 Boris listened with a bitter sense of pain 
 and disgust. The room, with its uniformed 
 occupants, the beautiful face of Louboff full 
 of an anguish unspeakable as each answer 
 was literally wrung from her, seemed to re- 
 cede and recede, till it became a mere blur to 
 his vision. 
 
 Finally, when it came to her giving the 
 name of Michel's associates, Louboff balked 
 and found her memory at fault. 
 
 Count d'Annenkoff, rising, said sharply: 
 
 "Gentlemen, I will not detain you longer; 
 these proceedings are becoming a farce. This 
 girl has told us all she intends to tell ; we may 
 be satisfied.'*
 
 THE LEVELLER 177 
 
 "I have told you all I know," said Louboff 
 fearlessly. "Much more than I would were 
 my brother's liberty not at stake." 
 
 "You have still to tell us," said Count 
 d'Annenkoff, looking triumphantly toward 
 Rubinstein, "for whom the bomb was meant 
 that we found in your brother's possession. 
 Will you swear to us you do not know!" 
 
 "Tell, Louboff, tell!" cried Rubinstein 
 authoritatively, as her eyes sought his plead- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Will you give my brother back to me!" 
 she demanded passionately of the Count. 
 
 "We will, most assuredly we will," he re- 
 plied, his smile more sarcastic and disagree- 
 able than ever. 
 
 "For the Tsar." 
 
 A shiver of real horror passed over the 
 officials assembled. Rubinstein lifted his 
 hands, then covered his face. Louboff alone 
 was standing. Then she threw back her head 
 and turned as an animal at bay. 
 
 "It is useless; useless," she cried, her 
 voice ringing out clear, musical and passion- 
 ate. "But, oh, your Excellencies, what other 
 remedies have we? You have tortured us, 
 goaded us, whipped us into revolt; we are 
 behind the age as a nation, and the blood of
 
 178 THE LEVELLER 
 
 thousands, the miseries of generations, will 
 not make you see. To-day, to-morrow, my 
 brother and millions of others are ready to 
 cry 'God bless our Tsar,' but we can cry it 
 only in freedom, mean it only, when despot* 
 ism ceases." 
 
 "Louboff!" 
 
 It was Boris who startled her into silence. 
 
 She gave one glance at the many pairs of 
 eyes, stern, horrified, wrathful and menacing, 
 all bent in her direction, then she fell back* 
 ward in a dead faint, falling into the arms 
 of Boris, who had rushed to her assistance. 
 
 For a few minutes there was some little 
 confusion. 
 
 Boris poured some brandy between her 
 closed teeth, then, dazed and despairing, 
 Louboff revived. 
 
 "Boris, take me away from here," she 
 sobbed in a whisper. 
 
 "One moment, sweetheart, courage, there 
 are formalities," he pleaded soothingly. 
 
 Count d'Annenkoff took up a paper, signed 
 it and gave it to the officer who had arrested 
 Louboff. The latter read the paper and then 
 said loudly: 
 
 "Louboff Antonivna Malkiel, you are dis- 
 charged on the undertaking of his Excel-
 
 THE LEVELLER 179 
 
 lency, Anton Gregoriewitch Rubinstein." 
 
 "General, your undertaking has its dan- 
 gers," said Count d'Annenkoff sarcastically. 
 
 "Your Excellency, I take the responsibil- 
 ity, and all its dangers, most gladly," Rubin- 
 stein replied coldly. 
 
 Louboff was clinging to Boris' arm, glanc- 
 ing from face to face, apprehensively. As 
 soon as the perfunctory adieux were made, 
 Rubinstein, Louboff and Boris went at once 
 to the ante-chamber for their cloaks. None 
 of them spoke till they reached the street, 
 where the iswostschiks gathered round them, 
 underbidding each other, and clamoring 
 loudly for their patronage. 
 
 The trio paid no heed. Rubinstein looked 
 at the two young people and said slowly and 
 sternly : 
 
 "Louboff, I am horribly disappointed in 
 you. What business has an artist with all 
 this intriguing? You were led into it by your 
 brother, I suppose, but " 
 
 He got into the sleigh nearest to him and 
 the expression of his face was not pleasant. 
 "A pretty pother you have raised," he went 
 on petulantly. "Here it is almost dawn. I 
 have lost four hours' sleep. It is most exas- 
 perating. ' '
 
 180 THE LEVELLER 
 
 Then in a tone of command, he said curtly : 
 " To-morrow is Sunday; I must break in on 
 that day also because of this. Be at my 
 house at ten o'clock, and notify Souroffsky 
 to bring his violin. I will hear you both in 
 the Kreutzer Sonata." 
 
 Without waiting for any reply, he said 
 to the iswostschik: "Troitsky Pereulok." 
 
 " Anton Gregoriewitch," pleaded Boris, 
 laying a detaining hand on the sleeve of the 
 composer's cloak. " Think a minute. Lou- 
 boff is ill; Louboff cannot " 
 
 Eubinstein's blue eyes flashed fire. 
 
 "You go to the devil and cease your med- 
 dling!" he shouted roughly as he shook off 
 the young man's hand, then in a kinder but 
 still stern tone to Louboff: "Remember, ten 
 to-morrow. ' ' 
 
 Together Boris and Louboff watched the 
 retreating sleigh with its huddled figure of 
 the great composer, then she said gently : 
 
 "Oh, Boris, never thwart him; he is not 
 used to it, he hates it." 
 
 "Talk of autocrats," muttered Boris sar- 
 castically. "But mind you," he flashed, "if 
 you feel ill or too tired you won't go. I 
 insist." 
 
 "Why, Boris, I would go if I were dying,"
 
 THE LEVELLER 181 
 
 she replied solemnly. ''You do not know 
 Anton Gr ego rie witch. He never forgives. 
 Things must go his way, or or " 
 
 Boris shrugged his shoulders and turned 
 to the still clamoring sleigh drivers. 
 
 Once inside the sleigh, Louboff closed her 
 eyes and did not speak for a few minutes; 
 finally she turned to him, her face white and 
 drawn. 
 
 "You still love me," she whispered pite- 
 ously ; ' * still even now when you know all, the 
 whole truth?" 
 
 "Louboff, when I told you that I loved you 
 something within me stronger than reason, 
 stronger than life, stronger than my up- 
 bringing, spoke for me. Dearest, you have 
 been misled, misguided, misinformed ; that is 
 all. I love you better now than before; I 
 love you better with every beat of my heart. 
 Sweetheart, I love you, love you, love you; 
 that is all!" and he turned and kissed her 
 with a fervor that carved forever in her re- 
 membrance the certainty and consciousness 
 of his great love. 
 
 On reaching the house it took some time 
 before a sleepy servant answered their ring. 
 
 "What about to-morrow, Louboff!" asked 
 Boris.
 
 182 THE LEVELLER 
 
 "I will certainly be back from Rubin- 
 stein's about three; can you call about that 
 time?" 
 
 "Yes, and I shall have something for you, 
 sweetheart," he added smiling. Just then the 
 door was opened, and he bent over her and 
 made the sign of the cross on her forehead. 
 
 "Good night, little soul," he whispered, 
 "and God bless you." 
 
 Boris dismissed his isivostschik, not know- 
 ing exactly what to do. The thought of re- 
 turning to his uncle's house was most dis- 
 tasteful. Mechanically he turned into the 
 Nevsky, wondering what hotel he had best 
 select, and if it were wise to select any. At 
 the Nobles' Club, on the corner of the Moes- 
 kaya, a group of people were descending, and, 
 much to his confusion, Boris found himself 
 face to face with his uncle. 
 
 The latter greeted him courteously. 
 
 "On foot?" he said interrogatively. "Well, 
 it is lucky then I meet you. I presume you 
 are on your way home. Jump in, Boris." 
 
 As soon as the horses had started, the 
 Count laughed. 
 
 "Well," he said sneeringly, "this has been 
 a lively evening for some of us. What do you 
 think of your little Nihilist now?"
 
 THE LEVELLER 183 
 
 Boris did not answer; he bit his lips 
 angrily. 
 
 "A beauty a beauty, on my soul," went 
 on the Count quickly. "Your taste, my boy, 
 is perfect; she brings back to one's mind's 
 eyes all the heroine beauties of the Bible. 
 When the race does give us a siren it cer- 
 tainly outdoes all others. But, mon Dieu, 
 picture to yourself what she will be in ten, 
 fifteen, twenty years' time. However, do not 
 worry, by that time," he added comfort- 
 ingly, ' * ah, how your ideas will have changed. 
 She is courageous, too, the minx decidedly 
 so. Imagine her facing us and giving voice 
 to such sentiments! You stopped her too 
 soon." 
 
 "She is only eighteen. What does she 
 know of such things?" asked Boris in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Enough," said the Count quickly, "to do 
 irreparable harm." 
 
 Boris shrugged his shoulders, then he said 
 sullenly : 
 
 "You will keep your promise about her 
 brother?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied the Count. Then in a 
 tone of peculiar satisfaction he added: "Yes, 
 yes ; she will have her brother to-morrow, and
 
 184 THE LEVELLER 
 
 two weeks from to-day she will start for the 
 
 frontier. ' ' 
 
 Boris could feel the blood recede from his 
 heart as the Count spoke. 
 
 "She was going in any case," he said 
 quietly for want of a reply. "She gives a 
 concert in Berlin. ' ' 
 
 "So much the better; people will not re- 
 mark her going, and you, my nephew, are 
 therefore prepared." 
 
 "Is there anything you could do, my 
 uncle, to rescind the order even if after a 
 year or two. You will not exile " 
 
 "She will never put her foot in Russia 
 again," said the Count hotly. "So long, at 
 least, as I am Minister of the Interior. No, 
 no, a self-confessed murderess of the Tsar! 
 Good heavens, Boris, how love blinds one! 
 You do not realize what you are asking. "Well, 
 here is the house, my boy. Au revoir." 
 
 "One moment," said Boris detainingly. 
 "As long as she is here, I I mean to see 
 her." 
 
 "I shall not prevent it; you do love her, 
 I see that; therefore, have your little enjoy- 
 ment. I am not beyond the memory of such 
 things myself, and they are sweet, they are 
 sweet you will never realize how sweet till
 
 THE LEVELLER 185 
 
 you reach my age. No, go ahead, two weeks 
 can do no harm; it will give you time to get 
 over it. But remember your mother arrives 
 in a day or two, and you will surely hide this 
 infatuation from her, if you love her." 
 
 With these parting words the Count di- 
 vested himself of his fur coverings and got 
 out, the sleigh having stopped at the Palace 
 Annenkoff.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It was with no little trepidation that Lou- 
 boff entered Rubinstein's study the following 
 morning. He greeted her as kindly as ever, 
 but there was a look in his eyes she dreaded. 
 
 He was just about to commence what 
 seemed a serious talk when, much to her re- 
 lief, the violinist who was to accompany her 
 in the Beethoven duet arrived. Rubinstein 
 set them to work at once. For almost two 
 hours they rehearsed steadily when Matve 
 announced luncheon. Rubinstein was in great 
 good humor, and as they sat down he said, 
 blowing her a kiss: 
 
 "Louboff, my little soul, do you know that 
 to-day you have played played like an art- 
 ist! I could almost forget you are a woman." 
 
 Louboff's pale cheeks flushed. The strain 
 of the night before had left its traces in her 
 face and manner, but the languor in her 
 countenance only added to its beauty. 
 
 "I have often wondered," he went on, "if 
 I am not a fool to devote so much time to you 
 women, as artists, are such unsatisfactory 
 creatures; one can neither rely on them nor 
 
 186
 
 THE LEVELLER 187 
 
 count on them ; somehow they never do as you 
 expect. I mean it," he added seriously. 
 "Women as artists are failures; but I really 
 believe, my camarade," he murmured affec- 
 tionately, as he raised her hand to his lips, 
 ' ' that in thee I have found the one great ex- 
 ception." 
 
 "Anton Gregoriewitch, " said Louboff 
 softly, her manner animated, yet humble, "I 
 sincerely hope so. No one has ever had such 
 a master." 
 
 "Louboff, you will not fail me; you will be 
 guided by an old world-weary artist who has 
 fought the fight with himself, and knows? 
 Will you accept my experience as final ? ' ' 
 
 He still held her hand in his, and his glance 
 rested on her with a pleading sadness that 
 brought the tears to her eyes. 
 
 She believed he referred to the scene of 
 the previous night. 
 
 "Anton Gregoriewitch," she began, and 
 jumping up she went behind his chair and 
 laid her cool, fresh cheek against his lov- 
 ingly, her arms about his neck, "your com- 
 mands will be my laws, now and always. 
 There is nothing I am not ready to give up 
 for you. Don't you know it?" 
 
 Eubinstein pressed her hands.
 
 188 THE LEVELLER 
 
 "Back to your soup, you witch," he said 
 pleadingly, * * this is luncheon time. ' ' 
 
 When Souroffsky rose to go, after lunch- 
 eon, so, too, did Louboff, but Rubinstein 
 stopped her. 
 
 "At two I have work to do," he said 
 quietly, "but, Louboff, I must have a talk 
 with you. Au revoir," he added carelessly to 
 the young artist, who left instantly. "Come, 
 Louboff." 
 
 He put his arm about her neck, and they 
 went together from the salon to the study. 
 
 Eubinstein lit a fresh cigarette, then he 
 bent the fingers of each hand from the 
 knuckle ; it was one of his characteristic exer- 
 cises for keeping his fingers limber. Then he 
 turned to her. 
 
 "Louboff, do you realize thoroughly what 
 it means to belong to our brotherhood our 
 brotherhood of artists?" 
 
 She was not prepared for the question ; she 
 stammered an unintelligible reply. 
 
 "Do you realize how far above the others 
 we are, the bigness and glory of our world, 
 our calling! I ask this because I want to 
 know if you have the stamina in you to reject 
 that which the world at large calls happiness 
 or fortune, and because Boris Alexandero-
 
 THE LEVELLER 189 
 
 witch informed me last night that you and 
 he are betrothed." 
 
 Rubinstein's eyes were half closed, but she 
 knew he was scrutinizing her closely, trying 
 to mesmerize her into a confession true and 
 complete, or else confuse her so that she 
 would reveal her secret. 
 
 "We are," she replied slowly. 
 
 "And you will be married some day?" 
 
 "Anton Gregoriewitch, " she said earn- 
 estly, "what can I say? There are so many 
 impediments in our way. It seems almost an 
 impossibility. I hardly dare hope." 
 
 Her tone was matter of fact and very calm. 
 Her interest in what she was saying was not 
 extreme; she was too intent on finding out 
 toward what he was drifting and in molding 
 her replies to suit. "He is thinking of my 
 career," she told herself. 
 
 Rubinstein smiled. 
 
 "Then it is not a matter of vital interest, 
 Louboff?" he asked earnestly. "Marriage is 
 not the final goal of all your hopes, as it 
 seems to be of his f You are not enthusiastic ; 
 you are satisfied just well, just to love him? 
 You do love him?" 
 
 Again she was guarded. 
 
 "Perhaps," she replied with a blush, 
 charming in its confusion.
 
 190 THE LEVELLER 
 
 Eubinstein drew down her face and kissed 
 her on the mouth. 
 
 "Ah, Louboff, you will not disappoint me, 
 and it is well ; my hopes are centered on you, 
 child. Be always true to my teaching. ' ' 
 
 "Then my marriage would displease you?" 
 
 "Marriage! It would be the end of your 
 career. It's ruin." 
 
 "But you " 
 
 < t 
 
 'Ah! Leave me out. I was thirty-five 
 years old; my career was made. It is suffi- 
 cient that I give you counsel of a contrary 
 nature. ' ' 
 
 Louboff smiled, unmoved in her intentions 
 by his remarks. Rubinstein's commands had 
 not swayed her one iota. She saw through 
 the gloom and disappointments of life with 
 the hopefulness and joy of her own youth. 
 She had nothing to fear. Boris loved her; 
 loved her in spite of all obstacles. 
 
 She was about to commence her career; 
 she had Rubinstein's own assurance that it 
 would be notable. And as to marriage, she 
 was in no hurry; that could wait, for a time 
 at least. Meanwhile, why not humor Rubin- 
 stein? She smiled again at her own deduc- 
 tions, then she arose and said quietly : 
 
 "See, it is almost two o'clock, Anton
 
 THE LEVELLER 191 
 
 Gregoriewitch. You must send me away." 
 
 "No, I have still something to say. I am 
 responsible for you now, you understand that 
 thoroughly?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And all this meddling with with " 
 
 Rubinstein had the usual horror, like all the 
 Tsar's subjects, of even mentioning the idea 
 in his mind. He hesitated and nodded his 
 head. 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes, Anton Gregoriewitch; I 
 never realized how foolish it all was," she 
 replied crestfallen. 
 
 "Altogether foolish; yes. See," said 
 Eubinstein, pointing to a group of happy- 
 looking moujiks opposite his windows, who 
 stood together laughing and jesting, "that is 
 Eussia they are content ; we must be. Now 
 go."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Once out in the clear crisp of the afternoon, 
 Louboff began to think over all that Rubin- 
 stein had said to her, and for the first time 
 she had leisure to realize what a momentous 
 change had come into her life. 
 
 A marriage with Boris ! Once it had been 
 a vague idea, a winged thought from fairy- 
 land, a hope that died in its analyzing; but 
 now, he had indeed asked her, he had thrown 
 all his prejudices to the winds and some 
 time perhaps in the dim roseate future, 
 yes, they would marry. 
 
 She would be Countess Gourowsky. How 
 could Rubinstein suppose for a moment that 
 in comparison her career would be first with 
 her; that much as she loved art she would 
 give up Boris? She smiled at the mere 
 thought ; but she argued with herself : 
 
 "It is as well to keep Rubinstein satisfied. 
 He is a great artist; one has to humor him 
 and then he has done so much for me and has 
 done it all so willingly. ' ' 
 
 Little by little she went back over her be- 
 trothal of the night before; like an echo she 
 
 102
 
 THE LEVELLER 193 
 
 heard Boris tell of his love ; the remembrance 
 of the love light in his eyes caused a blush to 
 rise to her cheeks. And then the awful mo- 
 ment of her arrest, her declaration; what a 
 confession she had made ! 
 
 She shrank at the memory of her own 
 words; of the nightmare-like horror of the 
 scene in the Annenkoff Palace. How lucky 
 she was to get her freedom. She sighed as 
 she thought how happily it had all ended. 
 To-day Michel returns, she told herself, won- 
 dering why the fact seemed to matter so little 
 to her; she could only think that in a short 
 time, an hour at most, she would see Boris 
 again. 
 
 At three he was to be with her. She took 
 out her watch; it was then a little after two. 
 A flutter of excitement went through her. It 
 was her first love affair, and, oh, how supreme 
 was her feeling of contentment. 
 
 Getting out of the sleigh, she gave the de- 
 lighted and astonished iswostschik a rouble, 
 telling him to keep the change, then feeling as 
 if the worjd belonged to her, she nodded gaily 
 to the porter sitting by the door and went in. 
 
 Going up the staircase, some one came out 
 of a doorway in the hall, and, running after 
 her, put his arms about her neck.
 
 194 THE LEVELLER 
 
 "It is Michel," she thought quickly, turn- 
 ing round to see. She found Boris. 
 
 "I was upstairs; they told me you were 
 out, so I waited. LoubofF, who would think 
 all that has happened did happen ! You look 
 adorable, as fresh and lovely as a rose. Are 
 you glad to see me, sweetheart? But not as 
 glad as I am to see you." 
 
 He gave her no time to answer, and hand 
 in hand they finished the rest of the climb, 
 both of them breathless with happiness. 
 
 * ' No one was at home ; Michel Antonowitch 
 had not yet come ; the \>arin, 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.
 
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