LEISURE HOUR SERIES 
 
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 COUNT KOSTIA 
 
 V.CHERBULIEZ 
 
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.1 8" 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 {Leisure-Hour Series.) 
 
 JOSEPH NOIREL S REVENGE. Translated by WM. F. 
 WEST, A.M. 
 
 COUNT KOSTIA. Translated by O. D. ASHLEY. 
 
 PROSPER RANDOCE. Translated by CARL BENSON. (/ 
 preparation.) 
 
LEISURE HOUR SERIES. 
 
 COUNT KOSTIA 
 
 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 Translated from the French 
 
 OF 
 
 VICTOR CHERBULIEZ 
 
 BY 
 
 O. D. ASHLEY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HOLT & WILLIAMS 
 
 1873 
 
F. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1873, by 
 
 HENRY HOLT, 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
 POOLE & MACLAUCHLAN, 
 
 PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS, 
 
 205-213 East \zth St., New York. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AT the beginning of the summer of 1850 a Rus 
 sian nobleman, Count Kostia Petrovitch Leminof, had 
 the misfortune to lose his wife suddenly, and in the 
 flower of her beauty. She was his junior by twelve 
 years. This cruel loss, for which he was totally un 
 prepared, threw him into a state of profound melan 
 choly ; and some months later, seeking to mitigate his 
 grief by the distractions of travel, he left his domains 
 near Moscow, never intending to return. Accom 
 panied by his twin children, ten years of age, a 
 priest who had served them as tutor and a serf named 
 Ivan, he repaired to Odessa, and then took passage 
 on a merchant ship for Martinique. Disembarking 
 at St. Pierre, he took lodgings in a remote part of the 
 suburbs. The profound solitude which reigned there 
 did not at first bring the consolation he had sought. 
 It was not enough that he had left his native coun 
 try, he would have changed the planet itself; and 
 he complained that nature everywhere was too much 
 alike. No locality seemed to him sufficiently a 
 stranger to his experience, and in the deserted places, 
 where the desperate restlessness of his heart impelled 
 him, he imagined the reappearance of the obtrusive 
 witnesses of his past joys, and of the misfortune by 
 which they were suddenly terminated. 
 
 He had lived a year in Martinique when the yel 
 low fever carried off one of his children. By a sin- 
 
 SI38074 
 
2 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 gulai* reactianvin* j Vigorous temperament, it was 
 about this .time^hat his s.ombre melancholy gave way 
 Jto-. ai>ittec: amd sarpqrsjic gayety, more in harmony 
 with his nature. Ffofh his early youth he had had a 
 taste for jocularity, a mocking turn of spirit, seas 
 oned by that ironical grace of manner peculiar to 
 the great Moscovite nobleman, and resulting from 
 the constant habit of trifling with men and events. 
 His recovery did not, however, restore the agreeable 
 manners which in former times had distinguished 
 him in his intercourse with the world. Suffering had 
 brought him a leaven of misanthropy, which he did 
 not take the trouble of disguising ; his voice had 
 lost its caressing notes and had become rude and 
 abrupt ; his actions were brusque, and his smile 
 scornful. Sometimes his bearing gave evidence of a 
 haughty will which, tyrannized over by events, sought 
 to avenge itself upon mankind. 
 
 Terrible, however, as he sometimes was to those 
 who surrounded him, Count Kostia was yet a civil 
 ized devil. So, after a stay of three years under 
 tropical skies, he began to sigh for old Europe, and 
 one fine day saw him disembark upon the quays of 
 Lisbon. He crossed Portugal, Spain, the south of 
 France and Switzerland. At Basle, he learned that 
 on the borders of the Rhine, between Coblentz and 
 Bonn, in a situation quite isolated, an old castle was 
 for sale. To this place he hurried and bought the 
 antique walls and the lands which belonged to them, 
 without discussing the price and without making a 
 detailed examination of the property. The bargain 
 concluded, he made some hasty and indispensable 
 repairs on one of the buildings which composed a 
 part of his dilapidated manor, and which claimed the 
 imposing name of the fortress of Geierfels, and at 
 once installed himself therein, hoping to pass the 
 rest of his life in peaceable and studious seclusion. 
 
 Count Kostia was gifted with a quick and ready 
 intellect, which he had strengthened by study. He 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 3 
 
 had always been passionately fond of historical re 
 search, but above everything, he knew and wished to 
 know, only that which the English call " the matter 
 of fact." He professed a cold scorn for generalities, 
 and heartily abandoned them to " dreamers; " he 
 laughed at all abstract theories and at the ingenuous 
 minds which take them seriously. He held that 
 all system was but logical infatuation ; that the only 
 pardonable follies were those which were frankly 
 avowed ; and that only a pedant could clothe his im 
 agination in geometrical theories. In general, pedan 
 try to his eyes was the least excusable of vices ; he un 
 derstood it to be the pretension of tracing back phe 
 nomena to first causes, " as if," said he, " there were 
 any first causes, or chance admitted of calculation ! " 
 This did not prevent him however from expending 
 much logic to demonstrate that there was no such 
 thing as logic, either in nature or in man. 
 
 These are inconsistencies, for which skeptics 
 never dream of reproaching themselves ; they pass 
 their lives in reasoning against reason. In short, 
 Count Kostia respected nothing but facts, and be 
 lieved that, properly viewed, there was nothing else, 
 and that the universe, considered as an entirety, was 
 but a collection of contradictory accidents. 
 
 A member of the Historical and Antiquarian So 
 ciety of Moscow, he had once published important 
 memoirs upon Sclavonic antiquities and upon some 
 of the disputed questions in the history of the Lower 
 Empire. Hardly was he installed at Geierfels, be 
 fore he occupied himself in fitting up his library, 
 but a few volumes of which he had carried to Mar 
 tinique. He at once ordered from Moscow most of 
 the books he had left, and also sent large orders to 
 German bookstores. When his " seraglio," as he 
 called it, was nearly complete, he again became ab 
 sorbed in study, and particularly in that of the Greek 
 historians of the Byzantine Empire, of whose collec 
 tive works he had the good fortune to possess tlje 
 
4 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Louvre edition in thirty-six volumes folio ; and he soon 
 formed the ambitious project of writing a complete 
 history of that Empire from Constantine the Great 
 to the taking of Constantinople. So absorbed did he 
 become in this great design, that he scarcely ate or 
 drank ; but the further he advanced in his researches 
 the more he became dismayed by the magnitude of 
 the enterprise, and he conceived the idea of procur 
 ing an intelligent assistant, upon whom he could shift 
 a part of the task. As he proposed to write his vo 
 luminous work in French, it was in France this living 
 instrument which he needed must be sought, and he 
 therefore broached the project to Dr. Lerins, one of 
 his old acquaintances in Paris. " For nearly three 
 years," he wrote to the Doctor, " I have dwelt in a 
 veritable owl s nest, and I should be much obliged to 
 you if you would procure for me a young night bird, 
 who could endure life two or three years in 
 such an ugly hole without dying of ennui. Un 
 derstand me, I must have a secretary who is not 
 contented with writing a fine hand and knowing 
 French a little better than I do : I wish him to be a 
 consummate philologist, and a hellenist of the first 
 order, one of those men who ought to be met with 
 in Paris, born to belong to the Institute, but so de 
 pendent upon circumstances as to make that position 
 impossible. If you succeed in finding this priceless 
 being, I will give him the best room in my castle and 
 a salary of twelve thousand francs. I stipulate that 
 he shall not be a fool. As to character, I say nothing 
 about it ; he will do me the favor to have such as 
 will suit me." 
 
 M. Lerins was intimate with a young man from 
 Lorraine named Gilbert Saville, a savant of great 
 merit, who had left Nancy several years before to 
 seek his fortune in Paris. At the age of twenty- 
 seven he had presented,!!! a competition opened by 
 the Academy of Inscriptions, an essay on the Etrus 
 can language, which took the prize and was unani- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 5 
 
 mously declared a master-piece of sagacious erudi 
 tion. He had hoped for some time that this first 
 success, which had gained him renown among learned 
 men, would aid him in obtaining some lucrative po 
 sition and rescue him from the precarious situation 
 in which he found himself. Nothing resulted from it. 
 His merits compelled esteem ; the charm of his frank 
 and courteous manner won him universal good will ; 
 his friends were numerous ; he was well received 
 and caressed ; he even obtained, without seeking it, 
 the entree to more than one salon, where he met men 
 of standing who could be useful to him and assure 
 him a successful future. All this however amounted 
 to nothing, and no position was offered. What work 
 ed most to his prejudice, was an independence of 
 opinion and character which was apart of his nature. 
 Only to look at him was to know that such a man 
 could not be tied down, and the only language which 
 this able philologist could not learn was the jargon 
 of society. Add to this that Gilbert had a specula 
 tive, dreamy temperament and the pride a nd indolence 
 which are its accessories. To bestir himself and to im 
 portune were torture to him. A promise made to him 
 could be forgotten with impunity, for he was not the 
 man to revive it; and besides, as he never complained 
 himself, no one was disposed to complain for him. 
 In short, among those who had been desirous of pro 
 tecting and advancing him, it was said : " what need 
 has he of our assistance ? such remarkable talent 
 will make its own way." Others thought, without ex 
 pressing it : " Let us be guarded, this is another 
 Letronne, once foot in the stirrup, God only 
 knows where he will stop." Others said and thought : 
 " This young man is charming, he is so discreet, 
 not like such and such a person." All those cited as 
 not " discreet," were provided for. 
 
 The difficulties of his life had rendered Gilbert 
 serious and reflective, but they had neither hardened 
 his heart nor quenched his imagination. He was 
 
6 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 too wise to revolt against his fate, but determined to 
 be superior to it. " Thou art all thou canst be," said 
 he to himself ; " but do not flatter thyself that thou 
 hast reached the measure of my aspirations." 
 
 Gilbert was a singular character. When he had 
 suffered some vexation, some mortification ; when 
 he had seen some cherished hope frustrated ; when a 
 door nearly opened was rudely closed upon him, he 
 would leave his habitual occupation a few hours and 
 go off to botanize in the environs of Paris. This en 
 abled him to forget everything. 
 
 After having read M. Leminof s letter, Dr. Lerins 
 went in search of Gilbert He described Count 
 Kostia to him according to his remote recollections, 
 but he asked him, before deciding, to weigh the 
 matter deliberately. After quitting his young friend 
 he muttered to himself 
 
 " After all, I hope he will refuse. He would be 
 too much of a prize for that boyard. Of his very 
 Muscovite face, I remember only an enormous pair 
 of eyebrows, the loftiest and bushiest I ever saw, and 
 perhaps there is nothing more of him ! There are men 
 who are all in the eyebrows ! What a contrast to our 
 dear Gilbert ? that mixture of strength and gentle 
 ness, which is his alone ; that noble head and 
 expansive forehead ; those large blue eyes in which 
 so much kindly curiosity expresses itself; that air 
 of self-possessed gravity, often enlivened by a fresh 
 and youthful smile which harmonizes with his frank 
 look; that voice, pure, clear and musical, which 
 gives a heart accent even to the discussion of 
 things purely intellectual. What could Count Kos 
 tia do with all this ? I do not deny that he can be 
 amiable and fascinating when he pleases ; but the 
 claw is always beneath. Indeed, to give Gilbert to 
 him would be like throwing a pearl between the paws 
 of a leopard." 
 
 Thus reasoned Dr. Lerins, but two hours later 
 Gilbert received a letter which decided him to leave 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. f 
 
 at once for Geierfels. It was addressed to him by 
 one of the guardians of the Imperial library, and an 
 nounced that a vacant place in the department of 
 manuscripts had just been given to one of his com 
 petitors, less deserving than himself, but apparently 
 born under a luckier star. The last lines were as 
 follows: "Do not be discouraged, you have a 
 marshal s staff in your knapsack. A man of your 
 stamp has an assured future." 
 
 " They will say that until my dying day," said 
 Gilbert to himself, shaking his head, and without fur 
 ther delay he ran to M. Lerins. The doctor tried to 
 shake his resolution, then finding it was trouble 
 wasted, he ended by saying, " My dear Gilbert, as 
 you seem to be decided, permit me to give you a little 
 advice. This grand Muscovite lord, with whom you 
 are going to live socially in a savage retreat, I have 
 the honor of being acquainted with, - and I think I 
 know him by heart. I beg of you not to be captivat 
 ed by the graces of his mind, or by the fascination of 
 his manners, and for God s sake don t grow to love 
 this man ; don t give him an hundred thousandth part 
 of your heart ; it would only be so much thrown 
 away, and afterwards you would have the mortification 
 of finding that you had been duped. In this connec 
 tion, you may justly say, that if he gives his secretary 
 a salary of twelve thousand francs, it is because he 
 expects a great deal of him. It will be an * eye for an 
 eye, a tooth for a tooth ; besides, you remember this 
 passage from his letter : I will trust that the young 
 night bird will do me the favor of having such a 
 character as will suit me. So, Count Kostia will de 
 mand of you twelve thousand francs worth of self- 
 abnegation. Are you well stocked ? That amount 
 must be on hand ! For Heaven s sake be consistent, 
 and having accepted the contract, don t dispute with 
 the hope of getting an abatement. Such quibblings 
 would amount to nothing, and your dignity would 
 suffer. Such is my second piece of advice ; and now 
 
8 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 for the third, for it is always well to put method into 
 one s reasoning. This gracious boyard has renounced 
 all faith ; he is the king of skeptics, and I assure you 
 that Russian skepticism attains most incredible di 
 mensions. This man has no belief, and I even doubt 
 if he has opinions. Do not let him suspect your en 
 thusiastic disposition. He would but trifle with it. I 
 can almost see him now pouncing upon such a prey 
 with his wildcat claws. Let your heart feign death, 
 my dear Gilbert, or look out for the blows of those 
 claws. And in spite of all you say, I know that 
 heart of yours is a sensitive plant that can t stand 
 much." 
 
 " And now in my turn," said Madame Lerins, who 
 had just come in in time to participate in the con 
 versation, "my dear sir, listen to me attentively. 
 M. Lerins imagines that Geierfels is a desert, but I 
 don t believe anything of -the kind. When M. Lem- 
 inof was here, he voluntarily went into the world. I 
 do not put much faith in his taste for seclusion. 
 You will find that they have balls there, fetes, riding 
 parties, Polish ladies with their pensive airs, theatri 
 cal princesses, Muscovite beauties, white roses, neckla 
 ces, plumed hats, diamonds, adventurers, billets doux, 
 songs to the guitar, and what not. My poor philoso 
 pher, what will become of you in this whirlwind ? I 
 fear that your head will be turned, and this is my ad 
 vice, which is very good if not divided into three heads, 
 like M. Lerins sermon. Do not, my dear sir, commit 
 the folly of throwing your heart to the world ; the 
 world is a badly trained dog, it will not bring back 
 the game." 
 
 " It is always so with women," cried M. Lerins 
 shrugging his shoulders. " Their advice never has 
 any common sense in it. Madame Lerins reasons 
 like that admirable mother, whose son was leaving 
 for the mines, and who placed in his trunk a pre 
 scription against sunstroke." 
 
 Gilbert could not help feeling that he had too 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 9 
 
 much advice, and that Boileau hardly spoke from 
 experience when he said, 
 
 " Love to be counselled and not to be praised." 
 " If some Muscovite beauty breaks my heart," he 
 laughingly replied to Madame Lerins, " I will carefully 
 gather up the pieces and bring them to you. You 
 can join them together and make me a heart almost as 
 good as ever." 
 
 A week later he was on his way to Geierfels. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AT Cologne Gilbert embarked on board a steam 
 boat to go up the Rhine ten or twelve leagues beyond 
 Bonn. Towards evening, a thick fog settled down 
 upon the river and its banks, and it became necessa 
 ry to anchor during the night. This mischance ren 
 dered Gilbert melancholy, finding in it, as he did, an 
 image of his life. He too had a current to stem, 
 and more than once a sad and sombre fog had fallen 
 and obscured his course. 
 
 In the morning the weather cleared ; they weighed 
 anchor, and at two o clock in the afternoon, Gilbert 
 disembarked at a station two leagues from Geierfels. 
 He was in no haste to arrive, and even though " born 
 with a ready-made consolation for anything," as 
 Mr. Lerins sometimes reproachfully said to him, he 
 dreaded the moment when his prison doors should 
 close behind him, and he was disposed to enjoy yet 
 a few hours of his dear liberty. " We are about to 
 part," said he to himself; " let us at least take time 
 to say farewell." 
 
 Instead of hiring a carriage to transport himself 
 and his effects, he consigned his trunk to a porter, 
 who engaged to forward it to him the next day, and 
 took his way on foot, carrying under his arm a little 
 
10 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 valise, and promising himself not to hurry. An hour 
 later he quitted the main road, and stopped to refresh 
 himself at an humble inn situated upon a hillock 
 covered with pine trees. Dinner was served to him 
 under an arbor, his repast consisted of a slice of 
 smoked ham and an omelette au cerfeuil, which he 
 washed down with a little good claret. This feast 
 a la Jean Jacques, appeared to him delicious, fla 
 vored as it was by that " freedom of the inn " which 
 was dearer to the author of the Confessions than even 
 the freedom of the press. 
 
 When he had finished eating, Gilbert ordered a cup 
 of coffee, or rather of that black beverage called cof 
 fee in Germany. He was hardly able to drink it, 
 and he remembered with longing the delicious Mocha 
 prepared by the hands of Madame Lerins ; and this 
 set him thinking of that amiable woman and her 
 husband. 
 
 " It is singular," said he to himself, " that those 
 excellent people love me so much and know me so 
 little. All the advice which they gave me the other 
 day was addressed to a Gilbert of their own imagina 
 tion. They don t know how very rational I am. At 
 moments it seems to me that I have already lived one 
 life, so easily does my mind adapt itself to the exi 
 gencies of new situations." 
 
 Gilbert soon forgot Paris and Madame Lerins, 
 and fell into a vague revery. It was one of the ear 
 liest days of May, and the trees had commenced put 
 ting on the green livery of spring. It was that sweet 
 and solemn moment when the earth wakes from her 
 long sleep ; she gazes about her with languishing 
 glances ; through the shadows which still veil her eyes 
 she catches confused glimpses of the sun, and recog 
 nizes in it that adored phantom of which she dreamed 
 while sleeping ; a joyous madness seizes her, and 
 the life which gushes out of her bosom flows in waves 
 of sap into the growing stems of flowers, and the 
 knotty trunks of rejuvenated trees. And this sap of 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 1 1 
 
 spring mounted also to Gilbert s heart. He was stu 
 pefied and depressed by it. A caressing breeze 
 came like a sigh through the growing foliage of a 
 neighboring chestnut, and a bird began to sing. It 
 seemed to Gilbert that the song and the sigh came 
 from the depths of his own being. In revery the 
 heart, like an echo, repeats the great music of the 
 universe ; it becomes like the sea-shells which, when 
 held to the ear, breathe into it the confused but ma 
 jestic murmur of the ocean. 
 
 But Gilbert s revery soon took another turn. 
 From the bank where he was sitting, he saw the 
 Rhine, the tow-path which wound along by the side of 
 its grayish waters, and nearer to him the great white 
 road where, at intervals, heavy wagons and post- 
 chaises raised clouds of dust. This dusty road soon 
 absorbed all of his attention. It seemed to him as 
 if it cast tender glances upon him, as if it called 
 him and said : " Follow me ; we will go together to 
 distant countries ; we will keep the same step night 
 and day and never weary ; we will traverse rivers and 
 mountains, and every morning we will have a new 
 horizon. Come, I wait for thee, give me thy heart. 
 I am the faithful friend of vagabonds, I am the di 
 vine mistress of those bold and strong hearts which 
 look upon life as an adventure." 
 
 Gilbert was not the man to dream long. He be 
 came himself again, rose to his feet, and shook off 
 the vision. " Up to this hour I thought myself ra 
 tional ; but it appears I am so no longer. Forward, 
 then, courage, let us take our staff and on to Gei- 
 erfels ! " 
 
 As he entered the kitchen of the inn to pay his 
 bill, he found the landlord there busy in bathing a 
 child s face from which the blood streamed profusely. 
 During this operation, the child cried, and the land 
 lord swore. At this moment his wife came in. 
 
 " What has happened to Wilhelm ? " she asked. 
 
 " What has happened ? " replied he angrily. " It 
 
12 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 happened that when Monsieur Stephane was riding 
 on horseback on the road by the mill, this child 
 walked before him with his pigs. Monsieur Ste- 
 phane s horse snorted, and Monsieur Stephane, who 
 could hardly hold him, said to the child : Now 
 then, little idiot, do you think my horse was made to 
 swallow the dust your pigs raise. Draw aside, drive 
 them into the brush, and give me the road. Take 
 to the wood yourself, answered the child, the path 
 is only a few -steps off. At this Monsieur Stephane 
 got angry, and as the child began to laugh, he rushed 
 upon him and cut him in the face with his whip. 
 God-a-mercy ! let him come back, this little mas 
 ter, and I ll teach him how to behave himself. 
 I mean to tie him to a tree, one of these days, 
 and break a dozen fagots of green sticks over his 
 back." 
 
 " Ah ! take care what thou sayest, my old Peter," 
 replied his wife with a frightened air. "If thou dst 
 touch the little man thou dst get thyself into a bad 
 business." 
 
 " Who is this Monsieur Stephane ?" inquired Gil 
 bert." 
 
 The landlord, recalled to prudence by the warn 
 ing of his wife, answered dryly: "Stephane is Ste 
 phane, pryers are pryers, and sheep are put into the 
 world to be sheared." 
 
 Thus repulsed, poor Gilbert paid five or six times 
 its value for his frugal repast, muttering as he depart 
 ed : " I don t like this Stephane ; is it on his account 
 that I ve just been imposed upon ? Is it my fault 
 that he carries matters with such a high hand ? " 
 
 Gilbert descended the little hill, and retook the 
 main road ; it pleased him no more, for he knew too 
 well where it was leading him. He inquired how 
 much further it was to Geierfels, and was told that by 
 fast walking he would reach that place within an 
 hour, whereupon he slackened his pace. He was 
 certainly in no haste to get there. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 13 
 
 The spring had always been his season of melan 
 choly. When the trees clothed themselves with new 
 foliage, he found it natural that his life too should 
 put on freshness ; but he looked on all its branches 
 in vain, he saw no signs of new leaves or blossoms. 
 It appeared to him that his life had a color of dead 
 leaves ; but nevertheless the perfume and the sounds 
 of spring welled up from his heart, for in spite of all, 
 that heart remained young. " And yet this is not my 
 heart which is young," he mused as he walked on, " it 
 is my mind. The good doctor took me for a sensi 
 tive plant ; he little knows how completely I am mas 
 ter of my feelings. And, to tell the truth, I have no 
 trouble in keeping them in check, as they have never 
 assailed me at all dangerously. I shall be thirty next 
 St. Medard, and I do not yet know, except by hear 
 say, what this folly is which the world calls love. It 
 is a fairy land which I have never entered, for my 
 love passages at twenty are not worth mentioning, 
 they taught me nothing. I believe, in fact, that na 
 ture, in creating me, wanted to avoid expense ; she 
 didn t fit me out anew, for I know she has lodged in 
 my breast an old heart, worn out in service. This 
 heart bears the scars of wounds which I never 
 received, and it has vague recollections of passions 
 which I do not remember ever to have felt. In my 
 actual existence I am but an impassioned dreamer. 
 May my spirit preserve its youth forever ! Eternal 
 truth ! would that my thoughts always had wings to 
 ascend to thee ! But then, intellectual ambition is 
 a source of suffering. Life is easy for owls, for space 
 does not invite them ; but the eagle desires to rise 
 to the sun : should he fall with glazed eye and 
 broken wing, and his shattered body become the play 
 thing of the sea-foam, for one instant at least, the 
 splendors of the empyrean would have quenched the 
 ardent thirst of his eyes, and his glance would have 
 emptied at a single draught the chalice of celestial light. 
 I, Gilbert, who am not of the fraternity of eagles, have 
 
14 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 often in the distance followed their aerial nights, and 
 more than once have felt the agonizing voluptuous 
 ness of a vertigo. These are the only adventures of 
 my life. Ah ! may I never be afraid of such glorious 
 prostration ! " 
 
 And then he added with exultation : " He alone 
 can boast of having lived who, for one day, has held 
 the truth, who with pure lips has pressed this holy 
 Eucharist, who has felt his flesh thrill at the sacred 
 touch, and life divine diffuse itself like a torrent 
 through his burning veins. And yet, even that would 
 not suffice me. I want an opportunity to do some 
 thing one single act, into which I could throw my 
 whole soul an act of which it could be said, God 
 was in it ! an act of faith, of devotion, the remem 
 brance of which might spread as a perfume over my 
 life. Will this opportunity ever present itself? Alas ! 
 in the matter of heroism, fate seems to condemn me 
 to the average allowance." 
 
 While making these reflections, Gilbert pursued 
 his way. He was but half a league from the castle 
 when, upon his right, a little out of his road, he per 
 ceived a pretty fountain which partly veiled a natural 
 grotto. A path led to it, and this path had for Gil 
 bert an irresistible attraction. He seated himself 
 upon the margin of the fountain, resting his feet 
 upon a mossy stone. This ought to be his last halt, 
 for night was approaching. Under the influence of 
 the bubbling waters, Gilbert resumed his dreamy solil 
 oquy, but his meditations were presently interrupted 
 by the sound of a horse s feet which clattered over 
 the path. Raising his eyes, he saw coming towards 
 him, mounted upon a large chestnut horse, a young 
 man of about sixteen, whose pale thin face was re 
 lieved by an abundance of magnificent bright brown 
 hair, which fell in curls upon his shoulders. He was 
 small but admirably formed, and his features, although 
 noble and regular, awakened in Gilbert more of sur 
 prise than sympathy : their expression was hard, sul- 
 
COUNT KOSTiA. 1 5 
 
 len and sad, and upon this beautiful face not any of 
 the graces of youth appeared. 
 
 The young cavalier came straight towards him, 
 and when at a step or two from the fountain, he called 
 out in German, with an imperious voice : " My horse 
 is thirsty, make room for me my good man ! " 
 
 Gilbert did not stir. 
 
 " You take a very lofty tone my little friend," re 
 plied he in the same language, which he understood 
 very well, but pronounced like the devil, I mean like 
 a Frenchman. 
 
 " My tall friend, how much do you charge for 
 your lessons in etiquette ? " answered the young man 
 in the same language, imitating Gilbert s pronuncia 
 tion. Then he added in French, with irreproacha 
 ble purity of accent : " Come, I can t wait, move 
 quicker," and he began cutting the air with his riding- 
 whip. 
 
 " M. Stephane," said Gilbert, who had not forgot 
 ten the adventure of the little Wilhelm, "your whip 
 will get you into trouble some of these days." 
 
 " Who gave you the right to know my name ? " 
 cried the young man, raising his head haughtily. 
 
 " The name is already notorious through the 
 country," retorted Gilbert, " and you have written it in 
 very legible characters upon the cheek of a little pig 
 driver." 
 
 Stephane, for it was he, reddened with anger and 
 raised his whip with a threatening air ; but with a 
 blow of his stick Gilbert sent it flying into the bot 
 tom of a ditch, twenty paces distant. 
 
 When he looked at the young man again, he re 
 pented of what he had done, for his expression was 
 terrible to behold ; his pallor became livid ; all the 
 muscles of his face contracted, and his body was agi 
 tated by convulsive movements ; in vain he tried to 
 speak, his voice died upon his lips, and reason seemed 
 deserting him. He tore off one of his gloves, and 
 tried to throw it in Gilbert s face, but it fell from 
 
1 6 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 his trembling hand. For an instant he looked with a 
 scornful and reproachful glance at that slender hand 
 whose weakness he cursed ; then tears gushed in 
 abundance from his eyes, he hung his head over the 
 neck of his horse, and in a choking voice murmured: 
 
 " For the love of God, if you do not wish me to 
 die of rage, give me back, give me back " 
 
 " He could not finish ; but Gilbert had already 
 run to the ditch, and having picked up the riding- 
 whip, as well as the glove, returned them to him. 
 Stephane, without looking at him, answered by a slight 
 inclination of the head, but kept his eyes fixed upon 
 the pommel of his saddle, evidently striving to re 
 cover his self-possession. Gilbert pitying his state 
 of mind, turned to leave ; but at the moment he 
 stooped to pick up his portmanteau and cane, the 
 youth, with a well directed blow of his whip, struck 
 off his hat, which rolled into the ditch, and when Gil 
 bert, surprised and indignant, was about to throw 
 himself upon the young traitor, he had already push 
 ed his horse to a full gallop, and in the twinkling of 
 an eye he reached the main road where he d.sap- 
 peared in a whirlwind of dust. Gilbert was much 
 more affected by this adventure than his philosophy 
 should have permitted. He took up his journey 
 again with a feeling of depression, and haunted by 
 the pale distorted face of the youth. " This excess 
 of despair," said he to himself, " indicates a proud 
 and passionate character ; but the perfidy with which 
 he repaid my generosity is the offspring of a soul ig 
 noble and depraved." And striking his forehead he 
 continued: "It just occurred to me, judging from 
 his name, that this young man may be Count Kostia s 
 son. Ah ! what an amiable companion I shall have 
 to cheer my captivity ! M. Leminof ought to have 
 forewarned me. It was an article which should have 
 been included in the contract." 
 
 Gilbert felt his heart sink ; he saw himself already 
 condemned to defend his dignity incessantly against 
 
COUNT KOSTL-L I/ 
 
 the caprices and insolence of a badly trained child, 
 the prospect was not attractive ! Plunged in these 
 melancholy reflections, he lost his way, having passed 
 the place where he should have quitted the main 
 road to ascend the steep hill of which the castle 
 formed the crown. By good luck, he met a peasant 
 who put him again upon the right track. The night 
 had already fallen when he entered the court of the 
 vast building. This great assemblage of incongru 
 ous structures appeared to him but a sombre mass 
 whose weight was crushing him. He could only dis 
 tinguish one or two projecting towers whose pointed 
 roofs stood out in profile against the starlit sky. 
 While seeking to make out his position, several huge 
 dogs rushed upon him, and would have torn him to 
 pieces if, at the noise of their barking, a tall stiff 
 valet had not made his appearance with a lantern in 
 hand. Gilbert having given him his name, was re 
 quested to follow him. They crossed a terrace, forced 
 to turn aside at every step by the dogs who growled 
 fiercely, apparently regretting these amiable hosts 
 the supper of which they had been deprived. Fol 
 lowing his guide Gilbert found himself upon a little 
 winding staircase, which they ascended to the third 
 story, where the valet, opening an arched door, intro 
 duced him into a large circular apartment where a 
 bed with a canopy had been prepared. " This is 
 your room," said he curtly, and having lighted two 
 candles and placed them upon the round table, he 
 left the room, and did not return for half an hour, 
 when he re-appeared bearing a tray laden with a 
 samovar^, venison pie and some cold fowl. Gilbert 
 ate with a good appetite and felt great satisfaction in 
 finding that he had any at all. " My foolish rever 
 ies," thought he, " have not spoiled my stomach at 
 least." 
 
 Gilbert was still at the table when the valet re- 
 entered and handed him a note from the Count, 
 which ran thus : 
 
1 8 COUNT KOST2A. 
 
 "M. Leminof bids M. Gilbert Saville welcome. 
 He will give himself the pleasure of calling upon him 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 " To-morrow we shall commence the serious busi 
 ness of life," said Gilbert to himself, as he enjoyed a 
 cup of exquisite green tea, " and I m very glad of it, 
 for I don t approve of the use I make of my leisure. 
 I have passed all this day reasoning upon myself, 
 dissecting my mind and heart, a most foolish pas 
 time, beyond a doubt" then drawing from his pock 
 et a note book, he wrote therein these words : " For 
 get thyself, forget thyself, forget thyself, " imitat 
 ing the philosopher Kant, who being inconsolable 
 at the loss of an old servant named Lamp, wrote in 
 his journal : " Remember to forget Lamp." 
 
 He remained some moments standing in the em 
 brasure of the window gazing upon the celestial vault 
 which shone with a thousand fires, and then threw him 
 self upon his bed. His sleep was not tranquil ; Ste- 
 phane appeared to him in his dreams, and at one time 
 he thought he saw him kneeling before him, his face 
 bathed in tears ; but when he approached to console 
 him, the child drew a poignard from his bosom and 
 stabbed him to the heart. 
 
 Gilbert awakened with a start, and had some diffi 
 culty in getting to sleep again. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A GREAT pleasure was in store for Gilbert at his 
 awakening ; he rose as the sun began to appear, and 
 having dressed, hastened to the window to see what 
 view it offered. 
 
 The rotunda which had been assigned to him for 
 a lodging formed the entire upper story of a turret 
 which flanked one of the angles of the castle. This 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 19 
 
 turret, and a great square tower situated at the other 
 extremity of the same front, commanded a view of 
 the north, and from this side the rock descended 
 perpendicularly, forming an imposing precipice of 
 three hundred feet. When Gilbert s first glance 
 plunged into the abyss where a bluish vapor floated, 
 which the rising sun pierced with its golden arrows, 
 the spectacle transported him. To have a precipice 
 under his window, was a novelty which gave him in 
 finite joy. The precipice was his domain, his prop 
 erty, and his eyes took possession of it. He could 
 not cease gazing at the steep, wall-like rocks, the 
 sides of which were cut by transverse belts of 
 brush-wood and dwarf trees. It was long since he 
 had experienced such a lively sensation, and he felt 
 that if his heart was old, his senses were entirely 
 new. The fact is that at this moment, Gilbert, the 
 grave philosopher, was as happy as a child, and in lis 
 tening to the solemn murmur of the Rhine, with which 
 mingled the croaking of a raven and the shrill cries of 
 the martins, who, with restless wings grazed the abut 
 ments of the ancient turret, he persuaded himself 
 that the river raised its voice to salute him, that the 
 birds were serenading him, and that all nature cele 
 brated a fete of which he was the hero. 
 
 He could hardly tear himself from his dear win 
 dow to breakfast, and he was again engaged in con 
 templation when M. Leminof entered the room. 
 He did not hear him, and it was not until the Count 
 had coughed three times that he turned his head. 
 Perceiving the enemy, Gilbert started, but quickly 
 recovered himself. The nervous start, however, 
 which he had not been able to conceal, caused the 
 Count to smile, and this smile embarrassed Gilbert. 
 He felt that M. Leminof would regulate his con 
 duct to him upon the impression he should receive in 
 this first interview, and he determined to keep close 
 watch upon himself. 
 
 Count Kostia was a man of middle age, very tall 
 
20 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 and well made, broad shouldered, with lofty bearing, 
 a forehead stern and haughty, a nose like the beak of 
 a bird of prey, a head carried high and slightly back 
 wards, large, wide open gray eyes which shot glances 
 at once piercing and restless, an expressive face 
 regularly cut, in which Gilbert found little to criticize 
 except that the eyebrows were a little too bushy, and 
 the cheek bones a little too prominent ; but what did 
 not please him was, that M. Leminof remained 
 standing while praying him to be seated, and as Gil 
 bert made some objections the Count cut him short 
 by an imperious gesture and a frown. 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte" said Gilbert mentally, "you do 
 not leave this room until you have been seated too ! " 
 
 " My dear sir," said the Count, pacing the room 
 with folded arms, " you have a very warm friend in 
 Dr. Lerins. He sets a great value upon your merit ; 
 he has even been obliging enough to give me to un 
 derstand that I was quite unworthy of having such a 
 treasure of wisdom and erudition in my house. He 
 has also expressly recommended me to treat you with 
 the tenderest consideration ; he has made me feel 
 that I am responsible for you to the world, and that 
 the world will hold me to a strict account. You are 
 very fortunate, sir, in having such good friends, they 
 are among Heaven s choicest blessings." 
 
 Gilbert made no answer but bit his lips and look 
 ed at the floor. 
 
 " M. Lerins," continued the Count, " informs me 
 also, that you are both timid and proud, and he de 
 sires me to deal gently with you. He pretends that 
 you are capable of suffering much without complaint. 
 This is an accomplishment which is uncommon now- 
 a-days. But what I regret is, that our excellent 
 friend M. Lerins apparently considers me a sort of 
 human wolf. I should be very unhappy if I inspired 
 you with fear." Then, turning half round towards 
 Gilbert : " Let us see, Jook at me well ; have I claws 
 at the ends of my fingers ? " 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 21 
 
 Poor Gilbert inwardly cursed M. Lerins and his 
 indiscreet zeal. 
 
 " Oh Monsieur le Comte" replied he in his frank 
 est tones and with the most tranquil air he could 
 command, " I never suspect claws in a fellow-crea 
 ture ; only when occasion makes me feel them, I 
 cry out loudly and defend myself." 
 
 The sound of Gilbert s voice, and the expression 
 of his face struck M. Leminof. It was his turn if 
 not to start (he seldom started) at least to be aston 
 ished. He looked at him an instant in silence, and 
 then resumed in a more sardonic tone : 
 
 " This is not all ; M. Lerins (ah ! what an admir 
 able friend you have there !) desires also to inform 
 me that you are, sir, what is called now-a-days, a 
 beautiful soul. What is a beautiful soul ? I know 
 nothing of the species." While thus speaking he 
 seemed to be looking by turns for a fly on the ceil 
 ing and a pin on the floor. " I have old-fashioned 
 ideas of everything, and I do not understand the 
 vocabulary of my age. I know a beautiful horse 
 very well or a beautiful woman ; but a beautiful 
 soul : Do you know how to explain to me, sir, what 
 this beautiful soul is ? " 
 
 Gilbert did not answer a word. He was entirely 
 occupied in addressing to Heaven the prayer of the 
 philosopher : " Oh my God ! save me from my 
 friends, and I will take care of my enemies." " My 
 questions seem to you perhaps a little indiscreet," 
 pursued M. Leminof; " but M. Lerins is responsi 
 ble for them. His last letter caused me great un 
 easiness. He introduces you to me as an exception 
 able being ; it is natural that I should wish to en 
 lighten myself, for I detest mysteries and surprises. 
 I once heard of a little Abyssinian prince, who to 
 testify his gratitude to the missionary who had con 
 verted him, sent to him, as a present, a large chest 
 of scented wood. When the missionary opened the 
 chest, he found in it a pretty living Nile crocodile. 
 
22 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Fancy his delight ! Experiences like this teach pru 
 dence. So when our excellent friend M. Lerins 
 sends me a present of a beautiful soul, it is nat 
 ural that I should unpack it with caution, and that 
 before I install this beautiful soul in my house, I 
 should seek to know what is inside of it. A beauti 
 ful soul ! " he repeated, in a less ironical but harsher 
 tone, " by dint of pondering upon it, I divine to be a 
 soul which has a passion for the trumpery of senti 
 ment In this case, sir, suffer me to give you a piece 
 of advice. Madame Leminof had a great fancy 
 for Chinese ornaments, and she filled her parlors 
 with them. Unfortunately, I am a little brusque, and 
 it happened more than once that I overturned her 
 tables laden with porcelain and other gewgaws. You 
 can judge how well she liked it ! My dear sir, be 
 prudent, shut up your Chinese ornaments carefully in 
 your closets, and carry the keys." 
 
 " I thank you for the advice," answered Gilbert 
 gently ; " but I am distressed to see that you have 
 received a very false idea of me. Will you permit 
 me to describe myself as I am ? " 
 
 " I have no objection," said he. 
 
 "To begin then I am not a beautiful soul, I am 
 simply a good soul, or if you like it better, an honest 
 fellow who takes things as they come and men as they 
 ure; who prides himself upon nothing, pretends to noth 
 ing, and who cares not a straw what others think of 
 him. I do not deny that in my early youth I was sub 
 ject, like others, to what a man of wit has called the 
 witchery of nonsense ; but I have recovered from 
 it entirely. I have found in life a morose and rather 
 brutal teacher, who has taught me the art of living 
 by severe discipline ; so whatever of the romantic 
 was in me, has taken refuge in my brains, and my 
 heart has become the most reasonable of all hearts. 
 If I had the good fortune to be at the same time an 
 artist and rich, I should take life as a play ; but be 
 ing neither the one nor the other, I treat it as a mat- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2$ 
 
 ter of business. Believe me, sir, life for me is sim 
 ply a business a little more vexatious and complicat 
 ed perhaps than some others, but I find no fault, be 
 cause it is not an idyl, nor an opera. Only, as it is 
 good to take relaxation sometimes, when I wish to 
 rest from any great occupation which is tiring, I shut 
 up shop and go to the play. I carry here/ he added, 
 touching his forehead, " a pretty company of pup 
 pets." The scenery is not very extensive, but my 
 puppets are well behaved ; they understand their pro 
 fession very well, and play comedy and tragedy with 
 equal success. I have but to say a word and imme 
 diately they spring out of their boxes, dress them 
 selves, put on the rouge, the foot lamps are lighted, 
 the curtain rises, the play begins, and I am the hap 
 piest of men." 
 
 M. Leminof paced the room no longer. He 
 stood motionless in the embrasure of the window, 
 and looked out upon the valley. 
 
 " I will force you to sit down yet, Monsieur le 
 Comte" said Gilbert to himself. 
 
 " You pique my curiosity," at length said M. 
 Leminof after a long silence : "will you not let me 
 see your puppets some day ? " 
 
 " Impossible," answered he ; " my Punchinello, my 
 Harlequins and my Columbines are so timid that 
 they would never consent to brave the fire of your 
 gaze, and, without having claws at the ends of 
 your fingers, sir, you appear to me to have but little 
 sympathy with the imagination of others, and at your 
 approach my poor puppets would run the risk of a 
 short life they know very well that their repertoire 
 would not be to your taste." 
 
 M. Leminof commenced his walk again, and in 
 passing Gilbert, gave him a look at once haughty 
 and caressing, such as a huge mastiff would cast 
 upon a spaniel, who fearing nothing, would approach 
 his great - toothed majesty familiarly and offer to 
 play with him. He growls loudly, but feels no anger. 
 
24 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 There is something in the eye of a spaniel which 
 forces the big dogs to take their familiarity in good 
 part. 
 
 " Ah then, sir," said the Count, " by your own 
 avowal you are a perfect egotist Your great aim is 
 to live, and to live for yourself." 
 
 " It is nearly so," answered Gilbert, " only I avoid 
 using the word, it is a little hard. Not that I was 
 bom an egotist, but I have become one. If I still 
 possessed the heart I had at twenty, I should have 
 brought here with me some very romantic ideas. 
 You may well laugh, sir, but suppose I had arrived at 
 your castle ten years ago ; it would have been with a 
 fixed intention of loving you a great deal, and of 
 making you love me. But now, mon Dieu ! now I 
 know a little of the world, and I say to myself that 
 there can be no question between us but a bargain, 
 and that good bargains should be advantageous to 
 both parties." 
 
 " What a terrible man you are," cried the Count 
 with a mocking laugh. " You destroy my illusions 
 without pity, you wound my poetical soul. In my 
 simplicity, I imagined that we should be enamored 
 of each other. I intended to make an intimate friend 
 of my secretary, the dear confidant of all my 
 thoughts, but at the moment when I was prepared to 
 open my arms to him, the ingrate says to me in a 
 studied tone : Sir, there is nothing but the question 
 of a bargain between us ; I am the seller, you are the 
 buyer ; I sell you Greek, and you pay me cash down. 
 Peste ! Monsieur, your beautiful soul does not pride 
 itself on its poetry. As an experiment, I will take you 
 at your word. There is nothing but a bargain between 
 us. I will make the terms and you will agree without 
 complaint, though I am the Turk and you the Moor." 
 
 " Pardon me," answered Gilbert, " it is naturally 
 to your interest to treat me with consideration. You 
 may give me a great deal to do, I shall not grudge 
 my time or trouble, but you must not overburden me. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2$ 
 
 I am not exacting, and all that I ask for is a few 
 hours of leisure and solitude daily to enjoy my pup 
 pets in peace. 
 
 M. Leminof stopped suddenly before Gilbert, his 
 hands resting upon his hips. 
 
 " You will sit down, you will sit down, Monsieur 
 le Comte ; " muttered Gilbert between his teeth. 
 
 "So you are a dreamer and an egotist," said 
 M. Leminof, looking fixedly at him. " I hope, sir, 
 that you have the virtues of the class. I mean to 
 say, that while wholly occupied with yourself, you 
 are free from all indiscreet curiosity. Egotism is worth 
 its price only when it is accompanied by a scornful 
 indifference to others. I will explain : I do not live 
 here absolutely alone, but I am the only one with 
 whom I desire you to have any intimate acquaintance. 
 The two persons who live in this house with me know 
 nothing of Greek, and therefore need not interest you. 
 Remember, I have the misfortune of being jeal 
 ous as a tiger, and I intend that you shall be mine 
 without any division. And as for your puppets, 
 should you think better of it, you will find me always 
 ready to admire them ; but you show them to no one 
 else, you understand, to no one ! " 
 
 Count Kostia pronounced these last words with a 
 tone so emphatic that Gilbert was surprised, and 
 was on the point of asking some explanation ; but 
 the stern and almost threatening look of the Count 
 deterred him. " Your instructions, sir, 1 answered he, 
 " are superfluous. To finish my own portrait, I am 
 not very expansive, and I have but little sociability in 
 my character. To speak frankly, solitude is my 
 element ; it is inexpressibly sweet to me. Do you 
 wish to try me ? If so, shut me up under lock and 
 key in this room, and provided you have a little food 
 passed through the door to me daily, you will find me 
 a year hence seated at this table, fresh, well and 
 happy, unless, perhaps," he added, " I should be un 
 expectedly attacked with some celestial longing, in 
 
26 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 which case, I could some fine day easily fly out of 
 the window; the loss wouldn t be very great. Find 
 ing the cage empty, you would say, He has grown 
 his wings, poor fellow much good may they do 
 him. " 
 
 " I don t admit that," cried the Count, " Monsieur 
 Secretary. You please me immensely, and for fear 
 of accident, I will have this window barred." 
 
 With these words he drew a chair towards him, 
 and seated himself facing Gilbert, who could have 
 clapped his hands at this propitious result. Their 
 conversation then turned upon the Byzantine Em 
 pire and its history. The Count unfolded to 
 Gilbert the plan of his work, and the kind of re 
 searches he expected from him. This conversa 
 tion was prolonged for several hours, and M. Lem- 
 inof had hardly re-entered his study, before he took 
 his pen and wrote to M. Lerins as follows : 
 
 " My dear Doctor : Receive my thanks for the 
 precious subject which you have sent me. If he 
 had been made expressly for me, he could not be 
 more to my taste. This is precisely the implement I 
 have been in search of; but permit me to say that if 
 this young man pleases me, it is because he bears no 
 resemblance to the picture you drew of him. You 
 described one of Berquin s heroes, and I was pre 
 pared to send him back to you, for such a character 
 would[have been quite unbearable. My dear Doctor, 
 the young men of to-day are more complex than you 
 think ; candor is not their forte ; they are all very 
 sound in arithmetic, and the most ingenuous among 
 them is, to say theleast, aChinese in embryo. What 
 charms me in your candid friend is, that he exhibits 
 himself as a showman does his elephant. He was 
 anxious to explain to me in detail that petty mech 
 anism that you call his beautiful soul ; he has 
 shown me the mainspring, the movement, the balance 
 wheels, the hands and the striking apparatus. The 
 greatest advantage in this clock is, that it goes accord- 
 
COUA T T KOSTIA. 2/ 
 
 ing to directions and always indicates the hour one 
 wants it. Besides, the young man appears to me 
 admirably endowed ; he is a consummate scholar ; has 
 good judgment and the true critical spirit. In fact I 
 could not have met a more satisfactory man. Adieu, 
 my dear Doctor ; rely upon my gratitude, and give 
 my humble regards to Madame Lerins, if she has not 
 forgotten her unworthy servant, 
 
 " KOSTIA PETROVITCH LEMINOF." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A FORTNIGHT later, Gilbert wrote to his friends a 
 letter conceived thus : 
 
 " Madame : I have found here neither fetes, 
 cavalcades, gala days nor Muscovite beauties. What 
 should we do, I beg to know, with these Muscovite 
 beauties ? or perhaps I ought to ask, what would they 
 do with us? We live in the woods ; our castle is an 
 old, very old one, and in the moonlight it looks like a 
 spectre. What I like best about it, is its long and 
 gloomy corridors, through which the wind sweeps free 
 ly ; but I assure you that I have not yet encountered 
 there a white robe or a plumed hat. Only the 
 other evening a bat, who had entered by a bro 
 ken pane, brushed my face with his wing and al 
 most put out my candle. This, up to the pres 
 ent time, has been my sole adventure. And as 
 for you, sir, know that I am not obliged to resist the 
 fascinations of my tyrant, for the reason that he has 
 not taken the trouble to be fascinating. Know also that 
 I am not bored. I am contented ; I am enjoying the 
 tranquility of mind which comes from a well defined, 
 well regulated, and after all, very supportable posi 
 tion. I am no longer compelled to urge my life on 
 before me and to show it the road ; it makes its own 
 
28 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 way, and I follow it as Martin followed his ass. And 
 then pleasures are not wanting for us, listen ! Our 
 castle is a long series of dilapidated buildings, of 
 which we occupy the only one habitable. I am 
 lodged alone in a turret which commands a magnifi 
 cent view, and I have a grand precipice under my 
 window. I can say * my turret, my precipice ! 
 Oh, my poor Parisians, you will never understand all 
 there is in these two words : My precipice ! What 
 is it then but a precipice ? exclaimed Madame Le- 
 rins. It is only a great chasm. Ah ! mon Dieu, 
 yes, Madame, it is a great chasm ; but imagine that 
 this morning this chasm was a deep blue, and this 
 evening at sunset it was stay, of the color of 
 your nasturtiums. I opened my window and put my 
 head out to inhale the odor of this admirable preci 
 pice, for I have discovered that in the evening preci 
 pices have an odor. How shall I describe it to you ? 
 It is a perfume of rocks scorched by the sun, with 
 which mingles a subtle aroma of dry herbs. The 
 combination is exquisite. Standing here at my 
 window, I saw on my right, eighty feet below, 
 starting up from behind a clump of rhododendrons 
 the horns and head of a white goat. You must know 
 that on the side of the Rhine, my gulf, or iny abyss, 
 whatever you wish to call it, is flanked by a grassy 
 eminence, up the slope of which a path winds. It 
 was by that route that this little white-footed atnazon 
 had clambered, and she was evidently bent on 
 mounting higher ; but where was the path ? She 
 found herself at the foot of a formidable projection 
 of rocks which I would defy the most agile chamois 
 to scale. The poor goat was much afflicted at being 
 stopped by this unexpected obstacle, and in her vex 
 ation thrust her horns into the bushes, then bleating 
 she looked up at me, and I looked down at her 
 laughing, while at intervals our heads were both 
 turned to look at the river dashed here and there 
 with great gorgeous streaks of gold and purple. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2Q 
 
 Now honestly, Madame, do you not envy me my 
 window, and would you not exchange all the shop 
 men in the Rue Jacob, for my white goat ? 
 
 " And now take a turn with me, I beg you, through 
 our beautiful domain. The proud rock, of which we 
 occupy the summit and which deserves its name of 
 Vulture s Crag, is bounded at the north as you al 
 ready know, at the west by a ravine which separates 
 it from a range of hills higher and fantastically jag 
 ged, and following the windings of the river. This 
 line of hills is not continuous ; it is cut by narrow 
 gorges, which open into the valley and through which 
 the last rays of the sun reach us. The other evening 
 there was a red sunset, and one of these gorges 
 seemed to vomit flames ; you might have supposed it 
 the mouth of a furnace. Upon the east, from its 
 heights and its terrace, Geierfels overlooks the Rhine, 
 from which it is separated by the main road and a 
 tow-path. At the south it communicates by steep 
 paths with a vast plateau, of which it forms, as it 
 were, the upper story, and which is clothed with a 
 forest of beeches, and furrowed here and there with 
 noisy streams. It is on this side only that our castle 
 is accessible, and here not to carriages, even a cart 
 could reach us but with difficulty, and all of our pro 
 visions are brought to us upon the backs of men or 
 mules. Mountains, perpendicular rocks, turrets over 
 hanging a precipice, grand and sombre woods, rugged 
 paths and brooks which fall in cascades, do not all 
 these Madame make this a very wild and very roman 
 tic retreat ? On the right bank of the Rhine which 
 stretches out under our eyes, it is another thing. 
 Picture to yourself a landscape of infinite sweetness, 
 a great cultivated plain, which rises by imperceptible 
 gradation to the base of a distant chain of moun 
 tains, the undulating outlines of which are traced upon 
 the sky in aerial indentations. Assuredly, Madame, 
 the two banks of the Rhine are not consecrated to 
 the same divinity. Around Geierfels, within the mys- 
 
30 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 terious horror of the woods, reigns that primitive 
 and fearful goddess of nature, whose votaries, fero 
 cious as herself, crimson with their blood the mossy 
 rocks, whilst round about them, delirious priestesses, 
 with hair flying in the wind, seem to imitate in their 
 frenzied dances, the erratic course of stars still un 
 certain of their orbits and the wild discord of an 
 cient chaos. Below, on the contrary, Ceres the blonde, 
 Ceres crowned with ripening grain, tutelary and be 
 neficent goddess, who takes pleasure in the exhalations 
 of the ground broken by long furrows, in the grind 
 ing sound of ploughs, in the lowing of herds, and in 
 the song of the reapers binding their golden sheaves. 
 " Directly in front of the chateau, beyond the 
 Rhine, a market town, with neat houses carefully 
 whitewashed and with gardens attached, spreads it 
 self around a little cove, like a fan. Upon the right 
 of this great village a rustic church reflects the sun 
 from its tinned spire ; on the left, some large mills 
 show their lazily turning wheels, and behind these 
 mills, the church and the market town, extends the 
 fertile plain which I have just endeavored to describe 
 to yon, and which I cannot praise too much. Oh ! 
 charming landscape ! This afternoon I was occupied 
 in feasting my eyes upon it, when the white goat came 
 to distract my attention, followed at a distance by a 
 little girl whom I suspected of being very pretty ; but 
 I forgot them both in watching a steamboat passing 
 up the river towing a flotilla of barges, covered with 
 awnings and attended by their lighters, and a huge 
 raft laden with timber from the Black Forest, manned 
 by fifty or sixty boatmen, some of whom in front, 
 and so me in the rear, directed its course with vigor 
 ous strokes of the oar. Then my eyes wandered from 
 the white waters of the river over the soft outlines 
 of the shores, the curves of a little brook seeking its 
 adventures in a meadow, between two rows of willows 
 and poplars, and over the tree- shadows lengthened 
 by the twilight, which slept peaceably upon the 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 31 
 
 bosom of the fields. Here a green meadow where 
 three brown sheep were browsing, watched by a 
 shepherdess seated upon a large stone, while her 
 black and white spotted cow raised herself upon the 
 slope of a bank to nibble the tempting branches of a 
 hedge row. By this a road ran in a hollow through 
 which a miller passed upon a large gray horse ; fur 
 ther on a small cottage, from the roof of which es 
 caped a thin thread of blueish smoke, ascending in 
 undulations to the sky. ^At some distance from me, 
 a bird of prey with an immense spread of wings, 
 soared slowly above the valley ; his wings seemed 
 motionless, and suspended in the air,he traced great 
 curves regular and concentric. Apparently he 
 was plunged like myself in a dreamy contemplation 
 from which he could not tear himself, and when at 
 times he essayed to break the spell which held him 
 enchained, and flapping his great wings took his flight 
 towards the sky, the victorious charm soon triumphed 
 over his efforts, and he descended to resume his 
 wheeling course, apparently prisoned within a magic 
 circle, and fascinated in spite of himself by the 
 heavenly graces of these enchanted shores. 
 
 " But what pleases me above every thing else is, 
 that Geierfels, by its position, is a kind of acoustic 
 focus to which all the noises of the valley incessantly 
 ascend. This afternoon, the dull murmuring of the 
 river, the panting respiration of the tug-boat, the vi 
 bration of a bell in a distant church tower, the song 
 of a peasant girl washing her linen in a spring, the 
 bleating of sheep, the tic tac of the mills, the tinkling 
 bells of a long train of mules drawing a barge by a 
 rope, the reverberating clamors of boatmen stowing 
 casks in their boats all these various sounds came 
 to my ear in vibrations of surprising clearness, when 
 suddenly a gust of wind mingled them confusedly to 
 gether, and I could hear but a vague music which 
 seemed to fall from the skies. But a moment after 
 wards all of these vibrating voices emerged anew from 
 
32 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 that whirlwind of confused harmony, and each, so 
 norous and distinct, recounted to my enraptured 
 heart some episode in the life of man and nature. 
 And then, when night comes, Madame, to all of these 
 noises of the day succeed others more mysterious, 
 more penetrating, more melancholy. Do you like the 
 hooting of the owl. Madame ? But first, I wonder 
 if you have ever heard it. It is a cry No, it 
 is not a cry, it is a soft, stifled wail ; a monotonous 
 and resigned sorrow, which unbosoms itself to the 
 moon and stars. One of these sad birds lodges with 
 in two steps of me, in the hollow of a tree, and when 
 night comes, he amuses himself by singing a duet 
 with the sighing wind. The Rhine plays an accom 
 paniment, and its grave subdued voice furnishes a 
 continuous bass, whose volume swells and falls in 
 rhythmic waves. The other evening this concert fail 
 ed ; neither the wind nor the owl was in voice. The 
 Rhine alone grumbled beneath; but it arranged a sur 
 prise for me and proved that it could make harmony 
 of its own without other aid. Towards midnight a 
 barge carrying a lantern on its prow had become de 
 tached from the bank and had drifted across the riv 
 er, and I distinctly heard, or imagined that I heard, 
 the wash of the waves upon the side of the boat, the 
 bubbling of the eddy which formed under the stern, 
 the dull sound of the oar when it dipped into the 
 current, and still sweeter, when raised out of it the 
 tender tears which dripped from it drop by drop. 
 This music contrasted strongly with that I had heard 
 the night before at the same hour. The north wind 
 had risen during the evening, and near eleven o clock 
 it became furious; it filled the air with sad howl- 
 ings, and increased to a rage that was inexpressible. 
 The weathercocks creaked, the tiles ground against 
 each other, the roof timbers trembled in their mor 
 tices, and the walls shook upon their foundations. 
 From time to time a blast would hurl itself against 
 my window with wild shrieks, and from my bed I im- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 33 
 
 agined I could see through the panes the bloodshot 
 eyes of a band of famished wolves. In the brief in 
 tervals when this outside tumult subsided, strange 
 murmurs came from the interior of the castle ; the 
 wainscotting gave forth dismal creakings ; there was 
 not a crack in the partitions, nor a fissure in the ceil 
 ing from which did not issue a sigh, or hoarse groans. 
 Then again all this became silent, and I heard only 
 something like a low whispering in the far off corri 
 dors, as of phantoms murmuring in the darkness as 
 they swept the walls in their flight; then suddenly they 
 seemed to gather up their forces, the floors trembled 
 under their spasmodic tramping, while they clambered 
 in confusion up the staircase which led to my room, 
 throwing themselves over the threshold of my door 
 and uttering indescribable lamentations. 
 
 " But enough of this, perhaps you will say ; let us 
 now talk a little of your patron : This terrible man, 
 will you believe it, has not inspired me with the an 
 tagonism which you prophesied. But in the first 
 place we do not live together from morning to night. 
 The day after my arrival, he sent me a long list of 
 difficult or mutilated passages to interpret and restore. 
 It is a work of time, to which I devote all my after 
 noons. He has had some of his finest folios sent to 
 my room, and I live in these like a rat in a Dutch 
 cheese. It is true, I pass my mornings in his study, 
 where we hold learned discussions which would edify 
 the Academy of inscriptions ; but to my delight, 
 after nightfall I can dispose of myself as I choose. 
 He has even agreed that, after seven o clock, I may 
 lock myself in my room, and that no human being 
 under any pretext whatever shall come to disturb 
 me there. This privilege M. Leminof granted to 
 me in the most gracious manner, and you can im 
 agine how grateful I am to him for it. I do not 
 mean to say by this that he is an amiable man, nor 
 that he cares to be ; but he is a man of sense and 
 wit. He understood me at once, and he means to 
 3 
 
34 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 make me serviceable to him. I am like a horse who 
 feels that he carries a skilful rider. 
 
 " You find fault, Doctor, with his absolute lack of 
 faith, enthusiasm or sympathy.* 
 
 " But one cannot be a Russian without paying this 
 price. What is Russia ? The hyphen between Europe 
 and Asia. We consider ourselves very cosmopolitan, 
 because by taxing our wits we succeed in convincing 
 ourselves that Dante, Goethe and Shakspeare were 
 not entirely destitute of common sense. Fine pleas 
 antry that ! In Russia more than thirty languages 
 are spoken. In Russia they worship all the gods in 
 the world. In Russia there are Germans, Greeks, 
 Laps, Tchuds, Saymoi edes and Kamtschatkians. A 
 true Russian ought to have as many souls as there 
 are governments in his empire he ought to decipher 
 at sight the heart of a Mantchoo or Tchutsche ; he 
 should honor Panagia without embroiling himself 
 with Dalai-Lama ; he should be able to acclimate 
 himself anywhere and naturalize himself everywhere, 
 to understand everything without becoming enthusi 
 astic over anything. 
 
 " We Russians," said M. Leminof to me day be 
 fore yesterday, " are called upon to found the unity 
 of the human race." 
 
 " And how will you accomplish it ? " 
 
 " The way is very simple ; we are self-constituted 
 missionaries of M. Scribe, and we aspire to spread 
 him over Asia." 
 
 " And in retaliation," I asked, " will you spread 
 the Dalai-Lama over Europe ? " 
 
 " Not at all," replied he. u Let every nation have 
 its own Catechism. Religion divides men. The 
 vaudeville unites them." 
 
 " I am mistaken : the Russians are not all to be 
 condemned, without appeal, as skeptics and cynics. 
 Their cosmopolitanism can become a spirit of uni- 
 
 * These last six words are expressed in French by one 
 deniaisement. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 35 
 
 versal sympathy. I once knew in Paris a native of 
 Moscow, an admirable man, who united to a clear 
 and dispassionate intellect a warm and tender heart; 
 he knew everything and despised nothing ; men were 
 no mystery to him, and he was ready to devote him 
 self to them ; he united the unbounded tolerance of a 
 philosopher to the ardent charity of a saint. He 
 had passed his life in studying things as they are, 
 and he persisted in believing that faith in God ex 
 plains all life s mysteries. I asked him one day what 
 mission he assigned to Russia. He answered : To 
 reconcile all by understanding all. Utopian or not, 
 it is better than carrying M. Scribe to the Mantchoos." 
 " You dislike the Russians, my dear Doctor ; you 
 have often run them down before me, and I never 
 defended them. Now that I live in Russia, I feel 
 obliged to answer you. You call them Kalmucks ; 
 that is eluding the question by a subterfuge. The 
 Russians are Occidentals with the cheek-bones and 
 imagination of Orientals. You may fear them, I will 
 not contest that, but it is no reason why you should 
 speak disparagingly of them. Russia has a piercing 
 eye and fine ear ; her glance extends even to Pekin, 
 and she uses both ears in listening to what is said in 
 Europe. You may be sure that she does not lose 
 a word. On her part, she has many things to say to 
 us ; she only waits to make overtures to us until her 
 voice can be heard from Constantinople to Lisbon. 
 All that is very disquieting, but that does not prove 
 that the Russians are not a great people. The Scla- 
 vonians are, of all nations of the earth, the most 
 malleable, the most flexible ; they are plastic clay 
 capable of receiving all impressions, and of assuming 
 all forms. Thus they possess by nature the talent of 
 imitation, and the gift of assimilating foreign habits ; 
 but as this flexibility of mind is allied to an elevated 
 character, the fortunate conjunction produces marvel 
 lous results. The mind of a Sclavonian who happens 
 to have a mind, has more breadth than most others, 
 
36 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 without being less profound, and gives to his virtues 
 a versatility which we give only to our vices. 
 
 " After this declaration of principles, you will be 
 convinced forever that I adore my tyrant. Add, too, 
 if you wish, that I also adore Monsieur, his son ! 
 Apropos, I believe I met this amiable youth upon 
 the road the day of my arrival ; since which time I 
 have not had the privilege of seeing,, him. I have 
 taken all my meals in my room ; the dining-room, they 
 tell me, has been in the hands of the plasterers. Now 
 the repairs are completed, and we shall henceforth 
 dine en famille. Ah ! my good friends, if it were only 
 you that I am to dine with to-morrow ! When shall 
 I taste that aromatic coffee again !" 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, and for Gilbert was a 
 day of liberty. Towards the middle of the forenoon, 
 he went out to take a walk in the woods. He had 
 wandered for an hour, when, turning his head, he 
 saw coming behind him a little troop of children, 
 decked out in strange costumes. The two oldest 
 wore blue dresses and red mantles, and their heads 
 were covered with felt caps encircled by bands of 
 gilt paper in imitation of aureoles. A smaller one 
 wore a gray dress, upon which were painted black 
 devils and inverted torches. The last five were 
 clothed in white ; their shoulders were ornamented 
 with long wings of rose tinted gauze, and they held 
 in their hands sprigs of box by way of palm branches. 
 
 Gilbert slackened his pace, and when they came 
 up with him, he recognized in the one who wore the 
 san-benito the little hog drover, so maltreated by Ste- 
 phane. The child, who while marching looked down 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 37 
 
 complacently on the torches and the devils with which 
 his robe was decorated, advanced towards Gilbert, 
 and without waiting for his questions, said to him, " I 
 am Judas Iscariot. Here is Saint Peter, and here is 
 Saint John. The others are angels. We are all go 
 ing to R , to take part in a grand procession, that 
 
 they have there every five years. If you want to see 
 something fine, just follow us. I shall sing a solo and 
 so will Saint Peter ; the others sing in the chorus. 
 
 Upon which Judas Iscariot, Saint Peter, Saint 
 John and the angels resumed their inarch, and Gilbert 
 decided to follow them. The first houses of the vil 
 lage of R rise at the extremity of the wooded 
 
 plain which extends to the south of Geierfels. In 
 about half an hour, the little procession made its 
 entry into the village in the midst of a considerable 
 crowd which hastily gathered from the neighboring 
 hamlets. Gilbert made his way along the main street, 
 decorated with hangings and altars, and passed on 
 to an open square planted with elms, of which the 
 church formed one of the sides. Presently the bells 
 sounded a grand peal ; the doors of the church 
 opened, and the procession came out. At the head 
 marched priests, monks and laymen of both sexes, 
 bearing wax tapers, crosses and banners. Behind 
 them came a long train of children representing the 
 escort of the Saviour to Calvary. One of them, a 
 young lad of ten years, filled the role of Christ. 
 
 His head was crowned with thorns, and he bore 
 upon his shoulder a large wooden cross, under the 
 weight of which he seemed ready to sink. On either 
 side were the two thieves, one of whom made faces, 
 while the other, with eyes cast down and hanging 
 head, seemed a prey to profound remorse. They 
 were surrounded by guards armed with lances, who 
 threatened them and insulted them by word and ges 
 ture. Then followed a little girl, whose black robe 
 was penetrated by a poniard over the heart. This 
 young mater dolorosa was escorted by the twelve? 
 
38 COUNT KOSTIA, 
 
 Apostles. The procession was closed by a long troop 
 of angels, some bearing sprigs of box in their hands, 
 and others censers, which they swung gracefully 
 through the air. The procession made the tour of 
 the square twice, and then stopped. The bells ceased, 
 and an orchestra placed upon a platform discoursed 
 soft and pathetic music : and when the prelude was 
 finished, the chorus of angels joined in a canticle, 
 which stirred Gilbert to the depths of his soul. A 
 profound silence reigned in the crowd. The men 
 clasped their hands devoutly, the women kneeled. 
 The young choristers were grave and collected ; above 
 their bent heads floated the banners upon which fig 
 ures of the saints were painted. At intervals a cloud 
 of incense rose into the air ; a gentle breeze rustled 
 the foliage of the old elms, and the sky, clear blue 
 and cloudless, seemed to listen eagerly to the harmo 
 ny which breathed from these infantile lips, and to 
 that other silent and deeper harmony which stirred 
 th^ir young hearts. 
 
 Gilbert, the philosopher, was not of that order of 
 enfranchised spirits who, in exchanging faith for 
 knowledge, obey an inward fatality which they de 
 plore, but are powerless to resist. These slaves, 
 whose chains are broken in spite of themselves, re 
 gret their former servitude, and would recover at any 
 cost their past ingenuousness and that serene hap 
 piness with which religion blessed their childhood. 
 What has become of those raptures which they felt 
 at the sound of the bells calling the faithful to pray 
 er, the perfume of the incense floating over the altar, 
 and the radiance of the monstrance illuminating the 
 august shade of the sanctuary ? Alas ! they have felt 
 those living springs of devout emotion drying up under 
 the glare of the light which has penetrated their souls, 
 and they curse the implacable sun which has exhaust 
 ed the streams where they were wont to quench the 
 thirst of their eager souls. Behold them condemned 
 to think, to reason, to discuss, to criticise, whilst they 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 39 
 
 are longing to feel, to love, and to adore ! Oh ! desolat 
 ing sterility of heart ! how willingly would they give 
 their dearly bought wisdom for a single impulse of love 
 and devotion ! These unhappy souls are like the 
 bees that begged Heaven for a sting, but received it 
 only on condition of giving up their invaluable pro 
 boscis by means of which they extract the honey 
 from the flowers. Frustrated in their hopes, they 
 wander on restless wing among the gardens of Heav 
 en and gaze with longing eyes on the loved plants 
 which a fatal decree has placed forever beyond the 
 reach of their enjoyment. Sometimes in their delir 
 ium they throw themselves on one of these perfumed 
 corollas, bruising it with their wings and piercing 
 it with their sharp stings, but drawing none of its 
 coveted nectar. It is not with stings that celestial 
 bees make that divinely perfumed honey which 
 spreads a sovereign balm over all wounds of the 
 spirit. Gilbert had never experienced these strug 
 gles or this mental anguish ; science and the cold 
 spirit of criticism penetrating his soul, had troubled 
 nothing there, deranged nothing ; his convictions 
 transformed themselves by a kind of slow, insensible 
 metamorphosis, no painful crisis altering or precipi 
 tating the quiet progress. Educated by a devoted 
 mother, he had never desired to abjure her faith; it 
 had unconsciously grown and ripened in him, and he 
 had always remained faithful to his early beliefs, al 
 though he interpreted them differently ; and the more 
 profound the interpretation, the dearer and more sa 
 cred did they become. Gilbert reasoned much, and 
 always found God at the end of his reasoning. Thus 
 it came to pass, that he had been able to taste the 
 fruits of the tree of knowledge with impunity ; the 
 flaming sword of the angel did not appear to him ; 
 his temerity had not been punished by the pains of 
 exile, and the flowery gardens of Eden remained 
 open to him ; he entered them at pleasure and felt 
 himself at home. 
 
4<D COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 So Gilbert looked with both eyes and listened 
 with both ears to the young choristers. Their air of 
 innocence and ingenuousness, their modest demean 
 or indicating sincere devotion, their fresh and sil 
 very voices, their artlessness, which lent an infan 
 tine character to the ineffable joys and sorrows of the 
 Passion, all gave him a lively pleasure and moved 
 him deeply. He compared them in imagination to 
 the angels in Rubens pictures, which are neither 
 Loves nor spirits nor living abstractions, but winged 
 children, who without penetrating the hidden mean 
 ing of these divine mysteries, still are happy before 
 them ; they love Christ even though they cannot un 
 derstand him ; they seem to ask why he has not 
 wings like themselves ; they do not fathom the se 
 cret of his humanity. " Fly ! " Christ says to them, 
 " fly little birds of Heaven, for it is the nature of an 
 gels to fly : God and man walk." 
 
 At the moment when Gilbert was most absorbed 
 in his reflections, a voice which was not unknown to 
 him murmured in his ear these words, which made 
 him shudder : 
 
 " You seem prodigiously interested, Monsieur, in 
 this ridiculous comedy ! " 
 
 This interruption was like discord in a beautiful 
 harmony, and Gilbert felt exceedingly irritated by 
 the profane intrusion. Turning his head quickly he 
 recognized Stephane. The young man had just dis 
 mounted from his horse, which he had left in the 
 care of his servant, and had pushed his way through 
 the crovyd, indifferent to the exclamations of the 
 good people whose pious meditations he disturbed. 
 Gilbert looked at him a moment severely, and then 
 fixed his eyes on the procession, and tried, but in 
 vain, to forget the existence of this Stephane whom 
 he had not met before since the adventure at the, 
 fountain, and whose presence at this moment cause4 
 him an indefinable uneasiness. The reproachful look 
 which he had cast upon the young man, far from in.- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 41 
 
 timidating him, served but to excite his mocking hu 
 mor, and after a few seconds of silence he commenc 
 ed the following soliloquy in French, speaking low, 
 but in a voice so distinct that Gilbert, to his great 
 regret, lost not a word of it : 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! how ridiculous these young ones 
 are ! They really seem to take the whole thing se 
 riously ; what vulgar types ! what square, bony faces. 
 Don t their low, stupid expressions contrast oddly 
 with their wings ? Do you see that little chap twisting 
 his mouth and rolling his eyes ? His air of contri 
 tion is quite edifying. The other day he was caught 
 stealing faggots from a neighbor .... And look at 
 that other one who has lost his wings ! What an un 
 lucky accident ! He is stooping to pick them up, 
 and tucks them under his arm like a cocked hat. 
 The idea is a happy one ! But thank God, their lit 
 anies are over. It s Saint Peter s turn to sing. The 
 little rascal has a good voice, and says his lesson 
 well. It must have cost trouble enough to get it into 
 his head. The schoolmaster has undoubtedly cud 
 gelled his inspiration into him, an infallible method 
 it is too ! But you grieve too much, my good Pe 
 ter, your repentance is excessive. You have de 
 nied you master but three times, and that is hardly 
 worth talking about. With only three dastardly acts 
 on his conscience a man can still be an honest fel 
 low, after a fashion. Do you know which of these ac 
 tors is the only one who pleases me ? It is Judas. 
 Now that fellow s whole soul is in his part, he has 
 just the face for his business too. I have a particu 
 lar affection for this young leader. See how tender 
 ly he ogles the leather purse he carries in his hand ! 
 It is the lady of his heart. Now he begins to sing. 
 What is he going to say ? Gracious heavens ! he too 
 is deploring his sins like the rest. Does the innum 
 erable race of Judases know how to repent ? Their 
 treasons are deeds of prowess which they are gener 
 ally proud of. I withdraw my friendship from the 
 
42 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 young traitor on the spot ; his mealy tones are re 
 volting." 
 
 For a long time Gilbert looked about him anxious 
 ly, seeking an opportunity to escape, but the crowd 
 was so compact that it was impossible to make his 
 way through it. He saw himself forced to remain 
 where he was and to submit, even to the end, to 
 Stephane s amiable soliloquy. So he pretended not 
 to hear him, and concealed his impatience as well as 
 he could ; but his nervousness betrayed him in spite 
 of himself, and to the great diversion of Stephana, 
 who maliciously enjoyed his own success. Fortu 
 nately for Gilbert, when Judas had stopped singing, the 
 procession resumed its march towards a second sta 
 tion at the other end of the village, and this caused a 
 general movement among the bystanders who hedged 
 his passage. Gilbert profited by this disorder to 
 escape, arid was soon lost in the crowd, where even 
 Stephane s piercing eyes could not follow him. 
 
 Hastening from the village he took the road to 
 the woods. " This Stephana is decidedly a nuisance," 
 thought he. " Three weeks since he surprised me at 
 a bright fountain, where I was deliciously dreaming, 
 and put my fancies to flight, and now by his imper 
 tinent babbling he has spoiled a. fete in which I took 
 interest and pleasure. What is he holding in reserve 
 for me ? The most annoying part of it is, that hence 
 forth I shall be condemned to see him daily. Even 
 to-day, in a few hours, I shall meet him at his father s 
 table. Presentiments do not always deceive, and at 
 iirst sight I recognize in him a sworn enemy to my 
 repose and happiness ; but I shall manage to keep 
 him at a distance. We won t distress ourselves over 
 a trine. What does philosophy amount to, if the 
 happiness of a philosopher is to be at the mercy of 
 a spoiled child ! " 
 
 Thus saying, he drew from his pocket a book which 
 he often carried in his walks : It was a volume of 
 Goethe, containing the admirable treatise on the 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 43 
 
 metamorphosis of plants. He began to read, often 
 raising his head from the page to gaze at a passing 
 cloud, or a bird fluttering from tree to tree. To this 
 pleasant occupation he abandoned himself for nearly 
 an hour, when he heard the neighing of a horse be 
 hind him, and turning, he saw Stephane advancing at 
 full speed on his superb chestnut and followed at a 
 few paces by his groom, mounted on a gray horse. 
 Gilbert s first impulse was to dart into a path which 
 opened at his left, and thus gain the shelter of the 
 copse ; but he did not wish to give Stephane the 
 pleasure of imagining that he was afraid of him, and 
 so continued on his way, his eyes riveted upon the 
 book. 
 
 Stephane soon came up to him, and bringing his 
 horse to a walk, thus accosted him : 
 
 " Do you know, sir, that you are not very polite ? 
 You quitted me abruptly, without taking leave. Your 
 proceedings are singular, and you seem to be a 
 stranger to the first principles of good breeding." 
 
 " What do you expect, my dear sir," answered 
 Gilbert. " You were so amiable, so prepossessing the 
 first time I had the honor of meeting you, that I was 
 discouraged. I said to myself, that do what I would, 
 I should always be in arrears to you." 
 
 " You are spiteful Mr. Secretary," retorted Ste 
 phane. What, have you not yet forgotten that little 
 affair at the spring ? " 
 
 " You have taken no trouble, it seems, to make 
 me forget it." 
 
 " It is true, I was wrong," replied he with a sneer ; 
 " wait a moment, I will dismount, go upon my knees 
 there in the middle of the road, and say to you in a 
 dolorous voice, sir, I m grieved, heart broken, des 
 perate, For what ? I know not. Tell me, I pray 
 you, sir, for what must I beg your pardon ? For if I 
 rightly remember, you commenced by raising your 
 cane to me." 
 
 " I did not raise my cane to you," replied Gilbert, 
 
44 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 beside himself with indignation ; " I contented my 
 self with parrying the blow which you were about to 
 give me." 
 
 " It was not my intention to strike you," rejoined 
 Stephane impetuously. "And besides, learn once 
 for all, that between us things are not equal, and that 
 even should I provoke you, you would be a wretch to 
 raise the end of your finger against me." 
 
 u Oh ! that is too much ; " cried Gilbert laughing 
 loudly. " And why so, my little friend ? " 
 
 " Because because " stammered Stephane; and 
 then suddenly stopped. 
 
 An expression of bitter sadness passed over his 
 face ; his brows contracted and his eyes became fixed. 
 It was thus that terrible paroxysm had commenced 
 which so alarmed Gilbert at their first meeting. This 
 time, fortunately, the attack was less violent. The 
 good Gilbert passed quickly from anger to pity ; 
 " there is a secret wound in that heart," thought he, 
 and he was still more convinced of it when, after a 
 long pause Stephane, recovering the use of speech, 
 said to him in a broken voice : " I was ill the other 
 day, I often am. People should have some considera 
 tion for invalids." 
 
 Gilbert made no answer ; he feared by a hard 
 word to exasperate this soul so passionate, and so 
 little master of itself; but he thought that when 
 Stephane felt ill, he had better stay in his room. 
 
 They walked on some moments in silence until, 
 recovering from his dejection, Stephane said ironi 
 cally : " You made a mistake in leaving the fete so 
 soon. If you had stayed until the end, you would 
 have heard Christ and his mother sing ; you lost a 
 charming duet." 
 
 " Let us drop that subject," interrupted Gilbert ; 
 " we could not understand each other. Yours is a 
 kind of pleasantry for which I have but little taste." 
 
 " Pedant ! " murmured Stephane turning his head, 
 then adding with animation : "It is just because I 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 45 
 
 respect religion that I do not like to see it bur 
 lesqued and parodied. Let a true angel appear and 
 I am ready to render him homage ; but I am enraged 
 when I see great seraph s wings tied with white 
 strings to the shoulders of wicked, boorish little 
 thieves, liars, cowards, slaves and rascals. Their 
 hypocritical airs do not impose on me, for I read 
 their base natures in their eyes, and the canticles 
 which come from their lips fill the air with impure 
 miasmas which suffocate me. I detest," he contin 
 ued with increasing vehemence, which frightened 
 Gilbert, " I detest all affectations, all shams. I have 
 the misfortune of being able to see through all masks, 
 and I have discovered that all men wear masks, with 
 the exception of some great personages, who feel 
 themselves strong and formidable enough to allow 
 their faces to be seen in public. There are tyrants 
 who, whip in hand, make others adore their natural 
 ugliness, and before whom the great masquerade 
 bows and cringes. And that is the world ! " 
 
 " These are very old words for such young lips," 
 answered Gilbert sadly. " I suspect, my child, you 
 are repeating a lesson you have learned." 
 
 " And what do you know of my age ? " cried he 
 angrily. " By what do you judge? Are faces clocks 
 which mark the hours and minutes of life ? Well, yes, 
 I am but sixteen ; but I have lived longer than you. 
 I am not a library rat, and have not studied the 
 world in duodecimos. Thank God ! for the advance 
 ment of my education. He has gathered under my 
 eyes a few specimens of the human race which have 
 enabled me to judge of the rest, and the more expe 
 rience I. gain, the more I am convinced that all men 
 are alike. On that account I scorn them all, all 
 without exception ! " 
 
 " I thank you sincerely for myself and your 
 groom," answered Gilbert smiling. 
 
 " Don t trouble yourself about my groom," replied 
 Stephane, beating down with his whip the foliage 
 
46 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 which obstructed his path. " In the first place, he 
 knows but little French ; and it is useless to tell 
 him in Russian that I despise him, he would be 
 none the worse for it. He is well lodged, well fed 
 and well clothed ; what matters my scorn to him ? 
 And besides, let me tell you for your guidance, that 
 my groom is not a groom, he is my jailer. I am a 
 prisoner under constant surveillance ; these woods 
 constitute a yard, where I can walk but twice a week, 
 and this excellent Ivan is my keeper. Search his 
 pockets and you will find a scourge." 
 
 Gilbert turned to examine the groom, who an 
 swered his scrutinizing look by a jovial and intelli 
 gent smile. Ivan represented the type of the Rus 
 sian serf in all his original beauty. He was small, 
 but vigorous and robust; he had a fresh complexion, 
 cheeks full and rosy, hair of a pale yellow, large soft 
 eyes and a long chestnut bearcl, in which threads of 
 silver already mingled. It was such a face as one 
 often sees among the lower classes of Sclavonians ; 
 indicating at once energy in action and placidity in 
 repose. 
 
 When Gilbert had looked at him well, he said, 
 ^My dear sir, I do not believe in Ivan s scourge." 
 
 " Ah ! that is like you bookworms," exclaimed 
 Stephane with an angry gesture. " You receive all 
 the monstrous nonsense which you find in your old 
 books for gospel truth, and without any hesitation, 
 while the ordinary matters of life appear to you pro 
 digious absurdities, which you refuse to believe." 
 
 " Don t be angry. Ivan s scourge is not exactly 
 an article of faith. One can fail to believe in it 
 without being in danger of hell-fire. Besides, I am 
 ready to recant my heresy ; but I will confess to you 
 that I find nothing ferocious or stern in the face of 
 this honest servant. At all events, he is a jailer 
 who does not keep his prisoners closely, and who 
 sometimes gives them a relaxation beyond his orders; 
 for the other day, it seems to me, you scoured the 
 
 \ 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 47 
 
 country without him, and really the use you make of 
 your liberty 
 
 " The other day," interrupted Stephane, " I did a 
 foolish thing. For the first time I amused myself by 
 evading Ivan s vigilance. It was an effort that I 
 longed to make, but it turned out badly for me. 
 Would you like to see with your own eyes what this 
 fine exploit cost me ? " 
 
 Then pushing up the right sleeve of his black vel 
 vet blouse, he showed Gilbert a thin, delicate wrist 
 marked by a red circle, which indicated the prolong 
 ed friction of an iron ring. Gilbert could not repress 
 an exclamation of surprise and pity at the sight, and 
 repented his pleasantry. 
 
 " I have been chained for a fortnight in a dun 
 geon which I thought I should never come out of 
 again," said Stephane, " and I indulged in a good 
 many reflections there. Ah ! you were right when 
 you accused me of repeating a lesson I had learned. 
 The pretty bracelet which I bear on my right arm is 
 my thought teacher, and if I dared to repeat all that 
 it taught me ". Then interrupting himself: 
 
 " A lie ! " exclaimed he in a bitter tone, drawing 
 his cap down over his eyes. " The truth is, that I 
 came out of the dungeon like a lamb, flexible as a 
 glove, and that I am capable of committing a thousand 
 base acts to save myself the horror of returning there. 
 I am a coward like the rest, and when I tell you that I 
 despise all men, do not believe that I make an ex 
 ception in my own favor." 
 
 And at these words he drove the spurs into his 
 horse s flank so violently that the fiery chestnut, irri 
 tated by the rude attack, kicked and pranced. Ste 
 phane subdued him by the sole power of his haughty 
 and menacing voice ; then exciting him again, he 
 launched him forward at full speed and amused 
 himself by suddenly bringing him up with a jerk of 
 the rein, and by turns making him dance and plunge ; 
 then urging him across the road he made him clear 
 
48 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 at a bound, the ditch and hedge which bordered it. 
 After several minutes of this violent exercise, lie 
 trotted away, followed by his inseparable Ivan, leaving 
 Gilbert to his reflections, which were not the most 
 agreeable. 
 
 Although Gilbert was born a poet, destiny had 
 made him a man of order and discipline ; he had 
 banished adventure and fancy from his existence, 
 and had prescribed for himself a rule of life, observ 
 ing it with almost military exactness. By dint of 
 persistency, the habit of putting everything in its 
 place, and of doing everything in its time, had now 
 become a kind of second nature. The regularity of 
 his life displayed itself in his person ; all of his 
 movements were correct and precise ; from his walk, 
 his figure, the carriage of his head, his proud calm 
 glance, this great friend of puppets might have been 
 taken for an adjutant-major retired before his time. 
 Gilbert certainly considered it paramount to preserve 
 an unalterable composure of mind ; and by a severe 
 control of himself practised without any relaxation, 
 he had acquired a mastery over his emotions and 
 his impressions, so far at least as human infirmity 
 will admit. Poverty , which is a source of dependence, 
 having compelled him to have intercourse with many 
 men whose society was not agreeable to him, he had 
 contracted the habit of coolly observing character, 
 and of keeping full control of himself under all cir 
 cumstances. Therefore he was much astonished at 
 what had just happened. He had experienced in 
 talking with Stephane an uneasiness, a secret trouble 
 which had never oppressed him before. The pas 
 sionate character of this young man, the rudeness 
 of his manners, in which a free savage grace mingled, 
 the exaggeration of his language, betraying the dis 
 order of an ill-governed mind, the rapidity with 
 which his impressions succeeded each other, the nat 
 ural sweetness of his voice, the caressing melody of 
 which was disturbed by loud exclamations and rude 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 49 
 
 and harsh accents ; his gray eyes turning nearly 
 black and flashing fire in a paroxysm of anger or 
 emotion ; the contrast between the nobility and dis 
 tinction of his face and bearing, and the arrogant 
 scorn of proprieties in which he seemed to delight 
 in short, some painful mystery written upon his fore 
 head and betrayed in his smile- all gave Gilbert 
 much to speculate upon and troubled him profound 
 ly. The aversion he had at first felt for Stephane had 
 changed to pity since the poor child had shown him 
 the red bracelet, which he called his " thought-teach 
 er," but pity without sympathy is a sentiment to 
 which one yields with reluctance. Gilbert reproached 
 himself for taking such a lively interest in this young 
 man who had so little merited his esteem, and more 
 especially as with his pity mingled an indefinable 
 terror or apprehension. In fact, he hardly knew him 
 self; he so calm, so reasonable to be the victim of 
 such painful presentiments ! It seemed to him that 
 Stephane was destined to exercise great influence 
 over his fate, and to bring disorder into his life. 
 
 He seated himself at the foot of a great walnut 
 tree which spread its knotty branches with their 
 young reddish-brown leaves over the road. 
 
 " I am getting to be absurd," said he, " and cer 
 tainly have a strong imagination. The spring sun 
 must have affected my brain. It is hardly necessary 
 to take so seriously all the nonsense that crowds into 
 my head." 
 
 He re-opened the book, which he still held in 
 his hand, and tried to read, but the image of Stephane 
 constantly interposed between the page and his eyes. 
 He thought he saw him, with pale face and inflamed 
 eyes his cap on one side, and his long blonde hair 
 falling in disorder upon his shoulders. This sphinx 
 looked at him with a smile, at once sad and mocking, 
 and said to him in a threatening tone : "Divine me 
 if thou canst ; thy happiness depends upon it." 
 
 Suddenly, he heard once more the sound of 
 4 
 
50 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 horses hoofs and Stephana re-appeared. Perceiving 
 Gilbert, the young man stopped his horse and cried 
 out, " Mr. Secretary, I am looking for you." 
 
 And then laughing continued : 
 
 "This is a tender avowal I have just made; for 
 believe me, it is years since I have thought of look 
 ing for anybody ; but as in your estimation I have 
 not been very courteous, and as I pride myself on 
 my good manners, I wish to obtain your pardon by 
 flattering you a little." 
 
 " This is too much goodness," answered Gilbert. 
 " Don t take the trouble. The best course you can 
 pursue to win my esteem is to trouble yourself about 
 me as little as possible." 
 
 " And you will do the same in regard to me ? " 
 
 " Remember that matters are not equal between 
 us. I am but an insect, it is very easy for you to 
 avoid me, whilst " 
 
 " You are not talking with common sense," inter 
 rupted Stephane ; " look at this green beetle crawling 
 across the road. I see him, but he does not see 
 me. But to drop this bantering for it s quite out of 
 character with me what I like in you is your re 
 markable frankness, it really amuses me. By the 
 way, be good enough to tell me what book that is 
 which never leaves you for a moment and which you 
 ponder over with such intensity. Do tell me," add 
 ed he in a coaxing, childish tone, " what is the book 
 that you press to your heart with so much tenderness." 
 
 Gilbert arose and handed it to him. 
 
 " Essay -on the Metamorphosis of Plants. So, 
 plants have the privilege of changing themselves ? 
 Mon Dieu, they must be happy ! But they ought to 
 tell us their secret." ! ^^ 
 
 Then closing the volume and returning it to Gil 
 bert, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Happy man ! you live among the plants of the 
 field as if in your element. Are you not something 
 of a plant yourself ? I am not sure but that you have 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 5 i 
 
 just now stopped reading to say to the primroses 
 and anemones covering this slope, I am your 
 brother ! Mon Dieu ! I am sorry to have disturb 
 ed the charming conversation ! And hold ! your 
 eyes are a little the color of the perriwinkle. That 
 flower has a great deal of merit, it has little odor but 
 it has no thorns. I see now why you listened with 
 such religious feeling to the psalms of the seraphim. 
 In your passion for plants you see them everywhere, 
 and you involuntarily compared those wicked little 
 rustics to your white lilies, emblems of truth and in 
 nocence. And I, monster that I am ! said to you : 
 * Poor innocent, you had better look a little closer at 
 the angels, and you ll find the devil in the depths of 
 their eyes. Humanity is not a bed of roses and lil 
 ies, but an uncultivated and abandoned field where 
 nettles, the deadly nightshade and hemlock flourish. 
 Oh, how you must curse my impertinence and misan 
 thropy ! " 
 
 " Do not distress yourself, sir, 1 answered Gilbert 
 with a bland smile. " You exaggerate the effect of 
 your words. I took them for what they were worth, 
 that is to say, for the whims of a young man. I don t 
 know what reason you may have for despising your 
 fellow-creatures ; but the intemperance of your lan 
 guage betrays your youth and inexperience. At your 
 age one is apt to be positive, harsh and obstinate in 
 his judgments, to build up his impressions with sys 
 tem, to dogmatize in prose and verse, and to love 
 strong, decided colors ; for then there is little shading 
 in mind or manner. In all ages intolerance has 
 characterized the novices ; the old monks are more 
 indulgent, they do not see the devil in the eyes of 
 their neighbors so quickly ; rather, they know that 
 the devil himself is not so black as he is painted. 
 Early youth is the season of chimeras, it is a law of 
 nature ; only they are rose-colored some of them, 
 however, turn black. Yours are a little sombre, and 
 I am sorry for you, my child." 
 
52 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 This little sermon and the grave and steady tone 
 in which it was delivered, was very revolting to Ste- 
 phane. He turned his head and looked at Gilbert 
 with a scornful air, and had already prepared to leave 
 this insupportable mentor, when a glance over the 
 road dispersed his ill-humor, for in the distance he 
 saw Wilhelm and his comrades returning from the 
 fete. 
 
 " Come quick, my children," cried he, rising in 
 his stirrups. " Come quick, my lambs, for I have 
 something of the greatest importance to propose to 
 you." 
 
 Hearing this challenge, the children raised their 
 eyes and recognizing Stephane, they stopped and took 
 counsel together. The somewhat brutal impudence 
 of the young Russian had given him a bad reputa 
 tion, and the little peasants would rather have turned 
 back than encounter his morose jesting or his terri 
 ble whip. 
 
 The three apostles and the five angels, after con 
 sulting together, concluded prudently to beat a retreat, 
 when Stephane drawing from his pocket a great 
 leather purse, shook it in the air crying, " there is 
 money to be gained here, come, my dear children, 
 you shall have all you want." 
 
 The large full purse which Stephane shook in his 
 hand was a very tempting bait for the eight children ; 
 but his whip, which he held under his left arm, warned 
 them to be careful. Hesitating between fear and 
 covetousness, they stood still like the ass in the fa 
 ble between his two bundles of hay; but Stephane 
 at that moment was seized with a happy inspiration 
 and threw his switch to the top of a neighboring tree, 
 where it rested. This produced a magical effect, the 
 children with one accord deciding to approach him, 
 although with slow and hesitating steps. Wilhelm 
 alone, remembering his recent treatment, darted into 
 a path near by and disappeared in the bushes. 
 
 The troup of children stopped a dozen paces 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 53 
 
 from Stephane and formed in a group, the little ones 
 hiding behind the larger. All of them fumbled nerv 
 ously with the ends of their belts, and kept their 
 heads down, awkward and ashamed, with eyes fixed 
 upon the ground, but casting sidelong glances at the 
 great leather purse which danced between Stephane s 
 hands. 
 
 " You, Saint Peter," said he to them in a grave 
 tone ; " you, Saint John, and your five dear little 
 angels of Heaven, listen to me closely. You have 
 sung to-day very pretty songs in honor of the good 
 Lord ; he will reward you some day in the other 
 world ; but for the little pleasures people give me, I 
 reward them at once. So every one of you shall have 
 a bright dollar, if you will do the little thing I ask. 
 It is only to kiss delicately and respectfully the 
 toe of my boot. I tell you again, that this little cere 
 mony will gain for each of you a bright dollar, and 
 you will afterwards have the happiness of knowing 
 that you have learned to do something which you 
 can t do too well if you want to get on in this world." 
 
 The seven children looked at Stephane with a 
 sheepish air and open mouths. Not one of them 
 stirred. Their immobility, and their seven pairs of 
 fixed round eyes directed upon him, provoked him. 
 
 " Come, my little lambs," he continued persuasive 
 ly, " don t stretch your eyes in this way ; they look 
 like barn doors wide open. You should do this 
 bravely arid neatly. Ah ! mon Dieu ! you will see it 
 done often enough, and do it yourselves again too in 
 your lifetime. There must always be a beginning. 
 Come on, make haste. A thaler is worth thirty-six 
 silbergroschen, and a silbergroschen is worth ten pfen 
 nings, and for five pfennings you can buy a cake, a 
 hot muffin, or a little man in liquorice " 
 
 And shaking the leather purse again, he cried : 
 
 " Ah, what a pretty sound that makes ! How 
 pleasantly the click, click of these coins sounds to our 
 ears. All music is discordant compared to that. 
 
54 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Nightingales and thrushes stop your concerts ! we 
 can sing better than you. I am an artist who plays 
 your favorite air on his violin. Let us open the ball, 
 my darlings." 
 
 The seven children seemed still uncertain. They 
 were red with excitement, and consulted each other 
 by looks. At last the youngest, a little blond fellow, 
 made up his mind. 
 
 " Monsieur has one chevron too much" said he to 
 his companions, which being interpreted means : 
 " Monsieur is a little foolish with pride, his head is 
 turned, he is crack-brained, and," added he laugh 
 ingly, " after all, it s only in fun, and there is a dol 
 lar to get." 
 
 So speaking he approached Stephane deliberate 
 ly, and gave his boot a loud kiss. The ice was broken ; 
 all of his companions followed his example, some 
 with a grave and composed air, others laughing till 
 they showed all their teeth. Stephane clapped his 
 hands in triumph : 
 
 " Bravo ! my dear friends," exclaimed he. " The 
 business went off admirably, charmingly ! " 
 
 Then drawing seven dollars from his purse, he 
 threw them into the road with a scornful gesture : 
 
 " Now then, Messrs. Apostles and Seraphim," 
 cried he in a thundering voice, " pick up your money 
 quick, and scamper away as fast as your legs can 
 carry you. Vile brood, go and tell your mothers by 
 what a glorious exploit you won this prize ! " 
 
 And while the children were moving off, he turned 
 towards Gilbert and said, crossing his arms: " Well, 
 my man of the perriwinkles, what do you think of 
 it ? " 
 
 Gilbert had witnessed this little scene with min 
 gled sadness and disgust. He would have given much 
 if only one of the children had resisted Stephane s 
 insolent caprice ; but not having this satisfaction, he 
 tried to conceal his chagrin as best he could. 
 
 " What does it prove ? " replied he dryly. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 55 
 
 " It seems to me it proves many things, and 
 among others this : that certain emotions are very 
 ridiculous, and that certain mentors of my acquaint 
 ance who thrust their lessons upon others " 
 
 He said no more, for at this moment a pebble 
 thrown by a vigorous hand whistled by his ears, and 
 rolled his cap in the dust. Starting, he uttered an 
 angry cry, and striking spurs into his horse, he 
 launched him at a gallop across the bushes. Gilbert 
 picked up the cap, and handed it to Ivan, who said 
 to him in bad German : 
 
 " Pardon him ; the poor child is sick," and then 
 departed hastily in pursuit of his young master. 
 
 Gilbert ran after them. When he had over 
 taken them, Stephane had dismounted, and stood 
 with clenched fists before a child, who, quite out 
 of breath from running, had thrown himself ex 
 hausted at the foot of a tree. In running he had 
 torn many holes in his San-benito, and he was 
 looking with mournful eyes at these rents, and re 
 plied only in monosyllables to all of Stephane s 
 threats. 
 
 " You are at my mercy," said the young man to 
 him at last. " I will forgive you if you ask my par 
 don on your knees." 
 
 " I won t do it," replied the child getting up. " I 
 have no pardon to ask. You struck me with your 
 whip, and I swore to pay you for it. I m a good 
 shot. I sighted your cap and I was sure I d hit it. 
 That makes you mad, and now we re even. But I ll 
 promise not to throw any more stones, if you ll prom 
 ise not to strike me with your whip any more." 
 
 " That is a very reasonable proposition," said Gil 
 bert. 
 
 " I don t ask your opinion, sir," interrupted Ste 
 phane haughtily, then turning to Ivan : " Ivan, my 
 dear Ivan," continued he, " in this matter you ought 
 to obey me. You know very well the Count does 
 not love me, but he does not mean to have others in- 
 
56 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 suit me : it is a privilege he reserves to himself. Dis 
 mount, and make this little rascal kneel to me and 
 ask my pardon." 
 
 Ivan shook his head. 
 
 " You struck him first," answered he ; " why 
 should he ask your pardon ? " 
 
 In vain Stephane exhausted supplications and 
 threats. The serf remained inflexible, and during 
 this talk, Gilbert approached Wilhelm, and said to 
 him in a low voice : 
 
 " Run away quickly, my child ; but remember 
 your promise ; if you don t, youll have to settle with 
 me." 
 
 Stephane seeing him escape would have started 
 in pursuit ; but Gilbert barred his way. 
 
 " Ivan ! " cried he wringing his hands, " drive this 
 man out of my path ! " 
 
 Ivan shook his head again. 
 
 " I don t wish to harm the young Frenchman," re 
 plied he ; " he has a kind way and loves children." 
 
 Stephane s face was painfully agitated. His lips 
 trembled. He looked with sinister eye first at Ivan, 
 then at Gilbert. At last he said to himself in a stifled 
 voice : 
 
 " Wretch that I am ! I am as feeble as a worm, 
 and weakness is not respected ! " 
 
 Then lowering his head he approached his horse, 
 mounted him, and pushed slowly through the copse. 
 When he had regained the wood, looking fixedly at 
 Gilbert : 
 
 " Mr. Secretary," said he, " my father often quotes 
 that diplomatist who said that all men have their price ; 
 unfortunately I am not rich enough to buy you ; you 
 are worth more than a dollar ; but permit me to give 
 you some good advice. When you return to the cas 
 tle, repeat to Count Kostia certain words that I have 
 allowed to escape me to-day. It will give him infinite 
 pleasure. Perhaps he will make you his spy-in-chief, 
 and without asking it, he may double your salary. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 57 
 
 The most profitable trade in the world is burning can 
 dles on the devil s shrine. You will do wonders in it, 
 as well as others." 
 
 Upon which, with a profound bow to Gilbert, he 
 disappeared at a full trot. 
 
 " The devil ! the devil ! he talks of nothing but 
 the devil," said Gilbert to himself, taking the road to 
 the castle. " My poor friend, you are condemned to 
 pass some years of your life here between a tyrant 
 who is some times amiable, and a victim who is 
 never so at all ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHEN Gilbert got back to the castle, M. Leminof 
 was walking on the terrace. He perceived his secre 
 tary at some distance, and made signs to him to come 
 and join him. They made several turns on the para 
 pet, and while walking, Gilbert studied Stephane s 
 father with still greater attention than he had done 
 before. He was now most forcibly struck by his 
 eyes, of a slightly turbid gray, whose glances, vague, 
 unsteady, indiscernible, became at moments cold 
 and dull as lead. Never had M. Leminof been so 
 amiable to his secretary ; he spoke to him playfully, 
 and looked at him with an expression of charming 
 good nature. They had conversed for a quarter of 
 an hour when the sound of a bell gave notice that 
 dinner was served. Count Kostia conducted Gil 
 bert to the dining-room. It was an immense vaulted 
 apartment, wainscoted in black oak, and lighted by 
 three small ogive windows, looking out upon the ter 
 race. The arches of the ceiling were covered with 
 old apocalyptic paintings, which time had molded 
 and scaled off. In the centre could be seen the Lamb 
 
58 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 with seven horns seated on his throne ; and round 
 about him the four-and-twenty elders clothed in 
 white. On the lower parts of the pendentivse the 
 paintings were so much damaged that the subjects 
 were hardly recognizable. Here and there could be 
 seen wings of angels, trumpets, arms which had lost 
 their hands, busts from which the head had disappear 
 ed, crowns, stars, horses manes, and dragons tails. 
 These gloomy relics sometimes formed combinations 
 that were mysterious and ominous. It was a strange 
 decoration for a dining-hall. 
 
 At this hour of the day, the three arched windows 
 gave but a dull and scanty light ; and more was sup 
 plied by three bronze lamps, suspended from the 
 ceiling by iron chains ; even their brilliant flames 
 were hardly sufficient to light up the depths of this 
 cavernous hall. Below the three lamps was spread a 
 long table, where twenty guests might easily find 
 room ; at one of the rounded ends of this table, three 
 covers and three morocco chairs had been arranged 
 in a semi-circle ; at the other end, a solitary cover 
 was placed before a simple wooden stool. The 
 Count seated himself and motioned Gilbert to place 
 himself at his right; then unfolding his napkin, he 
 said harshly to the great German valet de chambre : 
 
 " Why are not my son and father Alexis here yet ? 
 Go and find them." 
 
 Some moments after, the door opened, and Ste- 
 phane appeared. He crossed the hall, his eyes down 
 cast, and bending over the long thin hand which his 
 father presented to him without looking at him, he 
 touched it slightly with his lips. This mark of filial 
 deference must have cost him much, for he was seized 
 with that nervous trembling to which he was subject 
 when moved by strong emotions. Gilbert could not 
 help saying to himself: 
 
 " My child, the seraphim and apostles are well re 
 venged for the humiliation you inflicted upon them." 
 
 It seemed as if the young man divined Gilbert s 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 59 
 
 thoughts, for as he raised his head, he launched a 
 ferocious glance at him ; then seating himself at his 
 father s left, he remained as motionless as a statue, 
 his eyes fixed upon his plate. Meantime he whom 
 they called father Alexis did not make his appear 
 ance, and the Count becoming impatient, threw his 
 napkin brusquely upon the table, and rose to go after 
 him ; but at this same moment the door opened, and 
 Gilbert saw a bearded face which wore an expression 
 of anxiety and terror. Much heated and out of breath, 
 the priest threw a scrutinizing glance upon his lord and 
 master, and from the Count turned his eyes towards 
 the empty stool, and looked as if he would have given 
 his little finger to be able to reach even that uncom 
 fortable seat without being seen. 
 
 " Father Alexis, you forget yourself in your eter 
 nal daubs ! " exclaimed M. Leminof reseating him 
 self. " You know that I dislike to wait. I profess, it 
 is true, a passionate admiration for the burlesque 
 master-pieces with which you are decorating the 
 walls of my chapel ; but I cannot suffer them to an 
 noy me, and I beg you not to sacrifice again the re 
 spect you owe me to your foolish passion for those 
 coarse paintings ; if you do, I shall some fine morning 
 bury your sublime daubings under a triple coat of 
 whitewash." 
 
 This reprimand, pronounced in a thundering tone, 
 produced the most unhappy effect upon father Alexis. 
 His first movement was to raise his eyes and arms 
 towards the arched ceiling where, as if calling the 
 four-and-twenty elders to witness, he exclaimed : 
 
 " You hear ! The profane dare call them daubs, 
 those incomparable frescoes which will carry down 
 the name of father Alexis to the latest posterity ! " 
 
 But in the heart of the poor priest terror soon 
 succeeded to indignation. He dropped his arms, 
 and bending down, sunk his head between his shoul 
 ders, and tried to make himself as small as possible; 
 much as a frightened turtle draws himself into his 
 
60 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 shell, and fears that even there he is taking up too 
 much room. 
 
 " Well ! what are these grimaces for ? Do you 
 mean to make us wait until to-morrow for your bene 
 diction ? " 
 
 The Count pronounced these words in the rude 
 tone of a corporal ordering recruits to march in 
 double-quick time. Father Alexis made a bound as 
 if he had received a sharp blow from a whip across 
 his back, and in his agitation and haste to reach his 
 stool, he struck violently against the corner of a 
 carved sideboard ; this terrible shock drew from him 
 a cry of pain, but did not arrest his speed, and rub 
 bing his hip, he threw himself into his place and, 
 without giving himself time to recover breath, he 
 mumbled in a nasal tone and in an unintelligible 
 voice, a grace which he soon finished, and every 
 body having made the sign of the cross, dinner was 
 served. 
 
 " What a strange role religion plays here," thought 
 Gilbert to himself as he carried his spoon to his lips. 
 " They would on no account dine until it had blessed 
 the soup, and at the same time they banish it to the 
 end of the table as a leper whose impure contact they 
 fear." 
 
 During the first part of the repast, Gilbert s at 
 tention was concentrated on father Alexis. This 
 priestly face excited his curiosity. At first sight it 
 seemed impressed with a certain majesty which was 
 heightened by the black folds of his robe, and the 
 gold crucifix which hung upon his breast. Father 
 Alexis had a high, open forehead ; his large, strongly 
 aquiline nose gave a manly character to his face ; 
 his black eyes, finely set, were surmounted by well- 
 curved eyebrows, and his long grizzly beard harmon 
 ized very well with his bronzed cheeks furrowed by 
 venerable wrinkles. Seen in repose, this face had a 
 character of austere and imposing beauty. And if 
 you had looked at - father Alexis in his sleep, you 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 6 1 
 
 would have taken him for a holy anchorite recently 
 come out of the desert, or better still, for a Saint 
 John contemplating with closed eyes from the height 
 of his Patmos rock, the sublime visions of the Apoca 
 lypse ; but as soon as the face of the good priest be 
 came animated, the charm was broken. It was but 
 an expressive mask, flexible, at times grotesque, 
 where were depicted the fugitive and shallow impres 
 sions of a soul gentle, innocent and easy, but not im 
 aginative or exalted. It was then that the monk and 
 the anchorite suddenly disappeared, and there re 
 mained but a child sixty years old, whose countenance, 
 by turns uneasy or smiling, expressed nothing but 
 puerile pre-dccupations, or still more puerile content. 
 This transformation was so rapid that it seemed al 
 most like a juggler s trick. You sought St. John, 
 but found him no more, and you were tempted to 
 cry out, " Oh, father Alexis, what has become of you? 
 The soul now looking out of your face is not yours." 
 This father Alexis was an excellent man ; but unfor 
 tunately, he had too decided a taste for the pleasures 
 of the table. He could also be accused of having a 
 strong ingredient of vanity in his character ; but his 
 self-love was so ingenuous, that the most severe 
 judge could but pardon it. Father Alexis had suc 
 ceeded in persuading himself that he was a great ar 
 tist, and this conviction constituted his happiness. 
 This much at least could be said of him, that he man 
 aged his brush and pencil with remarkable dexterity, 
 and could execute four or five square feet of fresco 
 painting in a few hours. The doctrines of Mount Ath- 
 os, which place he had visited in his youth, had no more 
 secrets for him ; Byzantine aesthetics had passed into 
 his flesh and bones : he knew by heart the famous 
 " Guide to Painting," drawn up by the monk Denys 
 and his pupil Cyril of Scio. In short, he was thor 
 oughly acquainted with all the receipts by means of 
 which works of genius are produced, and thus, with 
 the aid of compasses, he painted from inspiration 
 
62 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 those good and holy men who strikingly resembled 
 certain figures on gold back-grounds in the convents 
 of Lavra and Iveron. But one thing brought morti 
 fication and chagrin to father Alexis, Count Kos- 
 tia Petrovitch refused to believe in his genius ! But 
 on the other hand, he was a little consoled by the 
 fact that the good Ivan professed unreserved ad 
 miration for his works ; so he loved to talk of paint 
 ing and high art with this pious worshipper of his 
 talents. 
 
 " Look, my son," he would say to him, extending 
 the thumb, index and middle fingers of his right 
 hand, " thou seest these three fingers : I have only 
 to say a word to them, and from them go forth Saint 
 Georges, Saint Michaels, Saint Nicholases, patriarchs 
 of the old covenant, and apostles of the new, the 
 good Lord himself and all his dear family ! " 
 
 And then he would give him his hand to kiss, 
 which duty the good serf performed with humble 
 veneration. However, if Count Kostia had the bar 
 barous taste to treat the illuminated works of father 
 Alexis as daubs, he was not cruel enough to prevent 
 him from cultivating his dearly loved art. He had 
 even lately granted this disciple of the great Panse- 
 linos, the founder of the Byzantine school, an unex 
 pected favor, for which the good father promised 
 himself to be eternally grateful. One of the wings 
 of the Castle of Geierfels enclosed a pretty and suf 
 ficiently spacious chapel, which the Count had ap 
 propriated to the services of the Greek church, and 
 one fine day, yielding to the repeated solicitations of 
 father Alexis, he had authorized him to cover the 
 walls and dome with " daubs " after his own fashion. 
 The priest commenced the work immediately. This 
 great enterprise absorbed at least half of his thoughts ; 
 he worked many hours every day, and at night he 
 saw in dreams great patriarchs in gold and azure, 
 hanging over him and saying : 
 
 " Dear Alexis, we commend ourselves to thy good 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 63 
 
 care, let thy genius perpetuate our glory through the 
 Universe." 
 
 In short, father Alexis was so charmed with his 
 frescoes that, occupied in contemplating the white 
 beard of a colossal Noah, painted the day before, 
 he had not heard the sound of the dinner-bell. It is 
 thus that our passions devour each other, and it often 
 happens that the little ones consume the great. M. 
 Leminof at first remained silent. Perhaps he wished 
 to give Gilbert time to recover himself; but when the 
 soup was removed, he broke the silence and engaged 
 in animated conversation with his secretary. He 
 spoke to him in the same tone of respect that he did 
 on the terrace, but mingled with it a larger ingredi 
 ent of affection than ordinarily. The caressing in 
 flections of his voice, the kindly glances which ac 
 companied them, the air of sympathetic interest 
 which he manifested in questioning him the attention 
 which he paid to his replies, all testified to the great 
 consideration he had for Gilbert. Evidently all this 
 was intentional, and Stephane and father Alexis 
 might feel themselves duly notified that the new 
 comer was a being apart, an important personage, 
 called to live under a regime of favor, a sort of prime 
 minister, whose unobtrucled power was to be dreaded. 
 The notification was understood. Father Alexis, all 
 occupied as he was by his plate, did not fail to stealth 
 ily cast more than one look of admiration on Gilbert. 
 He could not remember having seen Count Kostia 
 testify such respect to any other human being. It 
 is true that the Count paid kindly attentions to Solon, 
 his monkey, a charming but very badly educated an 
 imal, all of whose tricks he approved ; but in the at 
 tentions which he bestowed upon the monkey, the 
 shade of respect was less marked. Father Alexis 
 observed this with well-founded surprise ; so he looked 
 with staring eyes at this curious animal who threat 
 ened to supplant Solon. On his part, Gilbert watched 
 Stephane. He felt that from moment to moment a 
 
64 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 greater chasm was widening between this young man 
 and himself; but Stephane betrayed nothing, his eyes 
 were as mute as his lips. 
 
 The conversation at length turned upon subjects 
 which the Count amused himself by debating every 
 day with his secretary. They spoke of the Lower 
 Empire, which M. Leminof regarded as the most pros 
 perous and most glorious age of humanity. He had 
 little fancy for Pericles, Caesar, Augustus and Napo 
 leon, and considered that the art of reigning had 
 been understood by Justinian and Alexis Commenus 
 alone. And when Gilbert protested warmly in the 
 name of human dignity against this theory : 
 
 "Stop just there!" said the Count; "no big 
 words, no declamation, but listen to me ! These 
 pheasants are good. See how father Alexis is re 
 galing himself upon them. To whom do they owe 
 this flavor which is so enchanting him ? To the 
 high wisdom of my cook, who gave them time to 
 become tender. He has served them to us just at 
 the right moment. A few days sooner they would 
 have been too tough ; a few days later would have 
 been risking too much, and we should have had the 
 worms in them. My dear sir, societies are very much 
 like game. Their supreme moment is when they are 
 on the point of decomposition. In their youth they 
 have a barbarous toughness. But a certain degree 
 of corruption, on the contrary, imperils their existence. 
 Very well ! Byzantium possessed the art of making 
 minds gamey and arresting decomposition at that 
 point. Unfortunately she carried the secret to the 
 grave with her. 
 
 He further declaimed against chivalry and revo 
 lution, which he considered as two variations com 
 posed upon the same theme. " Godfrey of Bouil 
 lon," said he, " is the great grandfather of Robes 
 pierre. The one exclaimed, while brandishing his 
 sword : My heart and God will it ! The other cried, 
 looking askance at Heaven : Virtue the end, terror 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 65 
 
 the means ! These two mottoes are the same. It 
 is a proclamation of abstract ideas as sovereign 
 of the universe ; it is the first fool arrogating to him 
 self the right of arranging the world according to his 
 own fancy; it is a new and unparalleled tyranny, the 
 tyranny of good intentions, and see what, in process 
 of time, good intentions have made of the West ! " 
 
 " A good deal can be said in answer to that," said 
 Gilbert. 
 
 " Answer nothing, my dear Gilbert," pursued the 
 Count, " and just let me direct your attention to the 
 fact that chivalry, whose avowed end was to submit 
 all human affairs to the decrees of that revolutionary 
 tribunal called the heart, ought in consistency to 
 manifest the greatest respect for that half of the hu 
 man race whose nature represents the feebleness, ca 
 prices, and follies of sentimentality. And it did not 
 fail in this respect. Rebellious to the lessons given 
 it by the wisdom of the Byzantines, instead of bury 
 ing woman in the shade of the harem, it placed her 
 on a throne. And what disorders has not this ab 
 surd idolatry given birth to in society ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Gilbert, " I must protest ! This 
 is a theory to which I shall never be converted." 
 
 " Let us see, be sincere," replied Count Kostia. 
 " We are among men, we can speak without constraint 
 and tell these dames the truth about themselves. For 
 get for a moment those principles of insipid gal 
 lantry which the romance of the middle ages has 
 bequeathed to us, and which the revolution has re 
 stored to honor. Can you deny that woman is an in 
 ferior being, incapable of consecutive thought, greedy 
 for dramatic emotions, always in revolt against com 
 mon sense, always ready to sacrifice the general in 
 terests to her passions ? Mon Dieu ! I am willing 
 to pardon her irrationality. She is not responsible 
 for it. A cruel fatality weighs upon her. The great 
 misfortune is, that in the design of nature, careful for 
 the perpetuation of the species, woman is but a 
 5 
 
66 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 means, and she cannot help considering herself an 
 end. It reminds me of a poor greyhound, who was 
 employed to turn a spit; she was never able to per 
 suade herself that the roast was not for herself ; 
 every day it was a new deception, and I must add, 
 that the roast was more than once in danger. There 
 fore it would be well for the roast, I mean to say so 
 ciety, to take precautions against the appetite for 
 happiness possessed by this creature at once feeble 
 and violent, and wholly incapable of understanding 
 her true destiny. And I know of nothing better de 
 signed than the captivity of the Byzantine or Mus 
 sulman harem, to remind the daughters of Eve that 
 they have not the right to live on their own ac 
 count." 
 
 M. Leminof developed this fine system with much 
 energy and animation. Gilbert thought such language 
 but indifferently respectful to the memory of Mine. 
 Leminof, and looking at Stephane, internally remarked 
 to Count Kostia : " I want to see how your teachings 
 impress him. " But Stephane appeared to hear 
 nothing; for a long time he had ceased eating, and 
 with impassible face he looked fixedly at his empty 
 plate. " What strikes me as amusing," continued M. 
 Leminof, terminating his address, " is that women 
 are not in the least grateful to society for the absurd 
 consideration which it shows them. To take their 
 word for it, they groan under an intolerable yoke. 
 These strange creatures have such a thirst for power, 
 that they would like to bring the sun moon and stars 
 under subjection; and, to complete the anomaly, pro 
 fessed friends of progress are found to aid their pre 
 tensions. It is these same innovators who petition 
 for the suppression of quarantines ; for the enfran 
 chisement of women and the emancipation of the 
 plague are two questions closely allied. My dear 
 Gilbert, you are a rational man. Join me in a toast 
 to harems and lazarettos ! " 
 
 "Amen!" exclaimed father Alexis, who, listening 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 6/ 
 
 with but one ear, had but little suspicion of the sub 
 ject under discussion ; but at the word toast he had 
 started, for he never refused to drink a health. 
 
 His exclamation drew the Count s attention to 
 him. 
 
 " Father Alexis is of my opinion," said he to Gil 
 bert, " and he has his own reasons for it. Ask him to 
 give you the history of his love affairs." 
 
 " I fear that the recital would not interest this ex 
 cellent young man," timidly objected the priest. 
 
 " Change your mode of speech," answered the 
 Count in a severe tone. " M. Gilbert Saville is not 
 an excellent young man ; he is a very distinguished 
 scholar, whose character and talents I esteem infi 
 nitely, and I mean that he shall be respected here as 
 myself." 
 
 " My position is defined, behold me the favorite 
 of the tyrant ! " thought Gilbert. And he saw a faint 
 and scarcely perceptible smile pass over the lips of 
 the motionless Stephane, which seemed to signify, " I 
 thought as much." 
 
 " Go on, good father," resumed the Count, " do not 
 require too much urging; tell your little story, or else 
 I must tell it my own way." 
 
 The good father hastened to comply, for it is bet 
 ter to give one s self a blow than receive it from some 
 one else. He entered upon his tale with a tremulous 
 voice, and while speaking glanced sadly from the 
 corner of his eye at some dishes which he had but 
 slightly attacked. I shall not here repeat the faith 
 ful expose which he made of his conjugal misfortunes. 
 Suffice it to say, that he had had the ill-luck to marry 
 a very imperious and very coquettish little woman, to 
 whom he had been more slave than husband. Fa 
 ther Alexis recounted his long tribulations with a 
 candor which was revolting to Gilbert. He was in 
 dignant with M. Leminof too, for forcing the holy 
 man to unveil thus to a stranger the secrets of his 
 private life \ but father AJexis had not the least idea 
 
68 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 in the world that he was compromising his dignity ; 
 he had not a metaphysical head, and understood 
 nothing of abstractions ; only he did not like to have 
 any one speak of his wife, nor be forced to speak 
 of her himself, because it recalled to him the 
 most unhappy period of his life. He finished his 
 story by some edifying reflections, and commenced 
 to quote Saint Basil, when he discovered that M. 
 Leminof was sound asleep. Considering himself ab 
 solved therefore from finishing his homily, he devoted 
 himself to emptying the plates of figs and nuts which 
 he had all the while kept under his eye. 
 
 A profound silence reigned in the great hall, unin 
 terrupted except by the rhythmic sound of the good 
 father s jaws. Stephane leaned his elbows on the 
 table ; his attitude expressive of dreamy melancholy : 
 his head inclined and leaning against the palm of 
 his right hand ; his black t.unic without any collar ex 
 posing a neck of perfect whiteness ; his long silky 
 hair falling softly upon his shoulders ; the pure and 
 delicate contour of his handsome face; his sen 
 sitive mouth, the corners curving slightly upwards, all 
 reminded Gilbert of the portrait of Raphael painted 
 by himself, all, except the expression, which was very 
 different. The glances of a Sanzio are winged mes 
 sengers which express in their mute language the 
 happy contemplations of a great and inspired soul, 
 and announce its betrothal to the eternal beauty of 
 the universe. The expression of Stephane s face 
 when not excited by passion was alternately that of 
 a cold and disdainful curiosity, or the distrust of a soul 
 seeking to conceal its true self and stealing away from 
 the light. At this moment his gaze was fastened on the 
 Apocalyptic pictures of the ceiling, as though he had 
 found there the symbolic expression of his own 
 thoughts ; his eyes lingered on a dragon s head, much 
 dilapidated by time, which made it the more hideous ; 
 he seemed to address a question to this monster ; 
 apparently he asked him jthe secret of his destiny. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 69 
 
 His statue-like immobility, and the transfixed gaze, 
 made poor Gilbert shudder ; he turned his eyes from 
 this young forehead crowned with a mysterious sad 
 ness, and let them rest on the priest, but father 
 Alexis air of sanctimonious resignation appeared 
 as pitiful as the sombre weariness of Stephane. A 
 profound melancholy filled Gilbert s heart. Nothing 
 about him commanded his sympathies, nothing prom 
 ised any companionship for his soul : at his left the 
 stern face of a drowsy tyrant, made more sinister by 
 sleep ; opposite him a young misanthrope, for the 
 moment lost in the clouds ; at his right an old epi 
 cure who consoled himself for everything by eating 
 figs ; above his head the dragons of the Apocalypse. 
 And then this great vaulted hall was cold, sepulchral; 
 he felt as though he were breathing the air of a cellar ; 
 the recesses and the corners of the room were ob 
 scured by black shadows ; the dark wainscottings 
 which covered the walls had a lugubrious aspect; 
 outside were heard ominous noises. A gale of wind 
 had risen and uttered long bellowings like a wounded 
 bull, to which the grating of weathercocks and the 
 dismal cry of the owls responded. 
 
 It suddenly occurred to Gilbert that the Count was 
 not really asleep, and that this sudden drowsiness 
 was a ruse intended to set at liberty the enchained 
 tongues of his guests. Gilbert fearing that Stephane, 
 coming out of his revery, would address some rude 
 remark to him that the watchful ear of the master 
 might catch, decided to feign sleep too, and leaning 
 back in his chair, closed his eyes and dropped his 
 head upon his breast. This situation was prolonged 
 some time, and Gilbert was already strongly tempted 
 to forget his role of sleeper, when luckily father Alex 
 is, who had just finished his last fig, breathed a long 
 sigh. This was a sufficient pretext for the Count to 
 awaken; he raised himself on his chair, passed 
 his hand ever his eyes, rung for tea, and when the 
 cups were empty, pressed Gilbert s hand cordially, 
 
70 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 and left the hall, followed by Stephane and the 
 priest. 
 
 When Gilbert had re-entered his own room he 
 opened the window that he might better hear the ma 
 jestic roll of the river. At the same moment a voice, 
 carried by the wind from the great square tower, cried 
 to him : 
 
 " Monsieur the grand vizier, don t forget to burn 
 plenty of candles to the devil ! this is the advice 
 which your most faithful subject gives you in return 
 for the profound lessons of wisdom with which you 
 favored his inexperience to-day ! " 
 
 It was thus Gilbert learned that Stephane was his 
 neighbor. 
 
 " It is consoling," thought he, " to know that he 
 can t possibly come in here without wings. And," 
 added he closing his window, " whatever happens, I 
 did well to write to Mine. Lerins yesterday to-day I 
 am not so well satisfied." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THIS is what Gilbert wrote in his journal six 
 weeks after his arrival at Geierfels : 
 
 A son who has towards his father the sentiments 
 of a slave toward his master ; a father who habitually 
 shows towards his son a dislike bordering on hatred 
 such are the sad subjects for study that I have 
 found here. At first I wished to persuade myself 
 that M. Leminof was simply a cold, hard character, 
 a skeptic by disposition, a blase grandee, who be 
 lieved it a duty to himself to openly testify his scorn 
 for all the humbug of sentiment. He is nothing of 
 the kind. The Count s mind is diseased, his soul 
 tormented, his heart eaten by a secret ulcer, and he 
 avenges its sufferings by making others suffer. Yes, 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. Jl 
 
 the misanthrope seeks vengeance for some deadly af 
 front which has been put upon him by man or by 
 fate ; his irony breathes anger and hatred ; it con 
 ceals deep resentment which breaks out occasionally 
 in his voice, in his look and in his unexpected and 
 violent acts ; for he is not always master of himself. 
 At certain times the varnish of cold politeness and 
 icy sportiveness with which he ordinarily conceals 
 his passions, scales off suddenly and falls into dust, 
 and his soul appears in its nakedness. During the 
 first weeks of my residence here he controlled him 
 self in my presence, now I have the honor of pos 
 sessing his confidence, and he no longer deems it 
 necessary to hide his face from me, nor does he 
 try any longer to deceive me. So much is gained 
 anyway ! I even flatter myself that he feels for me 
 all the friendliness of which he is capable. He re 
 spects my learning, he knows my inclination to be 
 useful and even necessary to him without over-esti 
 mating my services. Besides, he probably appre 
 ciates the interested discretion of a poor devil who 
 desires to earn his livelihood, and who therefore sub 
 mits to great restraints in his speech and actions. In 
 short, he considers me a man of good sense, with the 
 virtues of my trade, and although he sometimes re 
 proaches me for what he calls my metaphysical va 
 garies, he esteems me too much to suppose that they 
 can exercise any influence upon my conduct. The 
 idea as a rule of life is decidedly his bte noire. 
 " Hideous monster," he says, " veritable dragon of the 
 Apocalypse, whose offspring, deformed and repulsive 
 like their mother, are chivalry and revolution." 
 
 Oh, my dear puppets, you must be a spectacle 
 for my eyes alone, and a passing diversion for my 
 mind ! Be careful not to quit the stage where you 
 acquit yourselves with so much grace. The foot 
 lights mark the frontiers of your empire. Do not at 
 tempt to leap over them to take your place among 
 the living ! My dear puppets, when the play is finish- 
 
72 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ed, go back to your boxes, intertwine your \vires 
 amicably, close your fine eyes, my daughters, and 
 slumber But what do I hear ? these puppets 
 speak or sing while sleeping! From their securely 
 closed boxes come soft whisperings, a secret music, 
 intoxicating, echoing vague celestial harmonies 
 " Gilbert, Gilbert, distrust thyself ! thy puppets are not 
 as inoffensive as Count Kostia would fain believe." 
 
 Distrust thine eyes also, Gilbert ! They too are 
 speaking. It is singular, I thought myself entirely 
 master of my glances, but in spite of myself, 
 they betrayed too much curiosity on one occasion. 
 The other day while I was working with him in 
 his study, he suddenly became dreamy and absent, 
 his brow was like a thundercloud : he neither saw nor 
 heard me. When he came out of his revery his eyes 
 met mine fixed upon his face, and he saw that I was 
 observing him too attentively. 
 
 " Come now," said he brusquely, " you remember 
 our stipulations ; we are two egotists who have made 
 a bargain with each other. Egotists are not curious ; 
 the only thing which interests them in the mind of 
 a fellow-creature, is in the domain of utility." 
 
 And then fearing that he had offended me, he 
 continued in a softer tone : 
 
 " I am the least interesting soul in the world to 
 Jcnow- My nerves are very sensitive, and let me say 
 %o you once for all, that this is the secret of all the dis 
 orders which you may observe in my poor machine." 
 
 " No, Count Kostia, this is not your secret ! " I 
 was tempted to answer. * It is not your nerves 
 which torment you. I would wager that in despite 
 of your cynicism and skepticism, you have once be 
 lieved in something, or in some one who has broken 
 faith with you," but I was careful not to let 
 him suspect my conjectures. I believe he would 
 have devoured me. The anger of this man is terri 
 ble, and he does not always spare me the sight 
 of it. Yesterday especially, he was transported b- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 73 
 
 yond himself, to such an extent that I blushed for 
 him. Stephana had gone to ride with Ivan. The 
 dinner-bell rang and they had not returned. The 
 Count himself went to the entrance of the court to 
 wait for them. His lips were pale, his voice harsh 
 and grating, veiled by a hoarseness which always 
 comes with his gusts of passion. When the delin 
 quents appeared at the end of the path, he ran to 
 them, and measured Stephana from head to foot with 
 a glance so menacing that the child trembled in every 
 limb ; but his anger exploded itself entirely upon Ivan. 
 The poor jailer had, however, good excuses to offer : 
 Stephane s horse had stumbled and cut his knee, 
 and they had been obliged to slacken their pace. 
 The Count appeared to hear nothing. He signed 
 to Ivan to dismount; which having done, he seized 
 him by the collar, tore from him his whip and beat 
 him like a dog. The unhappy serf allowed himself 
 to be whipped without uttering a cry, without making 
 a movement. The idea of night or self-defence never 
 occurred to him. Riveted to the spot, his eyes clos 
 ed, he was the living image of slavery resigned to 
 the last outrages. Indeed I believe that during this 
 punishment I suffered more than he. My throat was 
 parched, my blood boiled in my veins. My first im 
 pulse was to throw myself upon the Count, but I re 
 strained myself ; such a violent interference would but 
 have aggravated the fate of Ivan. I clasped my 
 hands and with a stifled voice cried : " Mercy ! mer 
 cy ! " The Count did not hear me. Then I threw 
 myself between the executioner and his victim. 
 Stupefied, with arm raised and immoveable, the 
 Count stared at me with flaming eyes ; little by little 
 he became calm, and his face resumed its ordinary 
 expression. 
 
 " Let it pass for this time," said he at last, in a 
 hollow voice ; " but in future meddle no more in my 
 affairs ! " 
 
 Then dropping the whip to the ground, he strode 
 
74 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 away. Ivan raised his eyes to me full of tears, his 
 glance expressed at once tenderness, gratitude and 
 admiration. He seized my hands and covered them 
 with kisses, after which he passed his handkerchief 
 over his face, streaming with perspiration, foam and 
 blood, and taking the two horses by the bridles, quiet 
 ly led them to the stable. I found the Count at the 
 table; he had recovered his good humor; he dis 
 charged several arrows of playful sarcasm at my "here 
 sies" in matters of history. It was not without effort that 
 I answered him, for at this moment he inspired me 
 with an aversion that I could hardly conceal. But I 
 felt bound to recognize the victory which he had 
 gained over himself in abridging Ivan s punishment. 
 After dinner he sent for the serf, who appeared with 
 his forehead and hands furrowed with bloody scars, 
 his lips bore their habitual smile, which was always 
 a mystery to me. His master ordered him to take 
 off his vest, turn down his shirt and kneel before him ; 
 then drawing from his pocket a vial full of some oint 
 ment whose virtues he lauded highly, he dressed the 
 wounds of the moujik with his own hands. This 
 operation finished, he said to him : 
 
 " That will amount to nothing, my son. Go and 
 sin no more." 
 
 Upon which the serf raised himself and left the 
 room, smiling throughout. Ivan s smile is an exotic 
 plant which I am not acquainted with, and which 
 only grows in Sclavonic soil, a strange smile, real 
 prodigy of baseness or heroism. Which is it ? I 
 am sure I cannot tell. 
 
 In spite of my trouble, I had been able to observe 
 Stephane at the beginning of the punishment. At the 
 first blow, a flash of triumphant joy passed over his 
 face ; but when the blood started he became horribly 
 pale, and pressed one of his hands to his throat as if 
 to arrest a cry of horror, and with the other he cover 
 ed his eyes to shut out the sight ; then not being able 
 to contain himself, he hurried away. God be praised ! 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 75 
 
 compassion had triumphed in his heart over the joy 
 of seeing his jailer chastised. There is in this young 
 soul, embittered as it is by long sufferings, a fund of 
 generosity and goodness ; but will it not in time lose 
 the last vestiges of its native qualities ? Three years 
 hence will Stephane cover his eyes to avoid the sight 
 of an enemy s punishment ? Within three years will 
 not the habit of suffering have stifled pity in his 
 breast ? To-morrow, to-morrow perhaps, will not his 
 heart have uttered its last cry ! " 
 
 " Poor Stephane ! I pity this child from the bot 
 tom of my soul. He is very unhappy ! not only is 
 his life sad, but does not his imagination aggravate his 
 misfortunes ? There are secrets in his nature of 
 which I am ignorant, and which make it inexplicable 
 to me; but what I see of it is sufficient to make me 
 pity him. His character is lively, variable, energetic, 
 expansive ; it needs air, light, freedom of move 
 ment. It has strength to expend, appetites for life 
 and happiness to satisfy. This young colt wants to 
 disport himself in the open fields, to frolic in green 
 pastures, to drink in with open nostrils the perfumed 
 breezes of the forest, to plunge breast deep in the 
 silvery foam of running waters. The hurrying wind 
 challenges him to the chase he pants to follow it, to 
 outrun it ; his ears stand erect, his eyes flash, he at 
 tempts to bound and plunge into space. Alas ! there 
 are fetters upon his feet, a merciless tether holds 
 him bound to one of the milestones on the road, and 
 the master is there with menacing eye and whir> in 
 hand. Poor, poor Stephane ! what close captivity is 
 his, and what solitude ! Except two walks a week in 
 the company and under the guard of Ivan, he passes his 
 life in the great tower alone, absolutely alone. What 
 does he find to do in this prison from which he goes 
 only at the dinner hour ? From the tone in which he 
 expresses himself on books and libraries, he does not 
 appear to have any passion for study. How does he 
 pass the time ? He keeps silent and consumes him- 
 
76 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 self. It is possible to live so, and it is possible to die 
 
 so ! 
 
 " But why can t this poor child be deaf as well 
 as mute ? Since you have no tender words for him, 
 Count Kostia, would that I could close his ears to the 
 desolating lessons that you give him! Do you not 
 see that the life he leads is enough to teach him 
 to hate men and life, without the necessity of your 
 interference ? He knows nothing of humanity, but 
 what he sees through the bars of his prison ; and 
 imagines that there is nothing in the world but 
 capricious tyrants and trembling, degraded slaves. 
 Why thus kill in his heart every germ of enthusiasm, 
 of hope, of manly and generous faith ? His mother 
 died long ago, and he has nearly forgotten her; 
 women are for him an unsuspected mystery ; why teach 
 him to despise them ? My child, come to Gilbert, Gil 
 bert the heartless, that Gilbert who perhaps has never 
 loved, and he, this man of ice, will teach thee that scorn 
 for woman is the supreme depravity in the heart of 
 man ; he will teach thee that the man is tainted to the 
 very bone, who dares in his thought to outrage the 
 treasures of sweet innocence or of sublime wisdom en 
 shrined in the heart of a virgin or of a mother ; he 
 will teach thee, child, to bow before that strength 
 which has the semblance of weakness, before that 
 sacred weakness which is more heroic than all 
 
 strength Alas ! he would refuse to hear me, 
 
 and my voice would be lost in the empty air. The 
 insolence of the triumph of tyranny is, that its vic 
 tims, while cursing it, make themselves its slaves and 
 apostles. Hear slaves talk; in vain do they hate 
 their master, for they vie with each other in repeating 
 his maxims. 
 
 " But six weeks have passed since I saw this 
 young man for the first time ; but a month since I be 
 gan to pass a few minutes with him daily, yet I am 
 sure that I understand the secret of his state of mind. 
 His malady is so apparent that it requires no clair- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 77 
 
 voyant to see it, and I can define it in a word. Ste- 
 phane is a noble nature, to which poetry and religion 
 are a closed book. Religion ! Great God ! it is in 
 terpreted to him by father Alexis. He sees it sitting 
 at the lower end of the table in the person of this 
 grotesque priest every day, devouring his affronts and 
 the wing of a truffled fowl with the same appetite. 
 Religion in his eyes is an affair of a few prayers, 
 of a few genuflections, of a copper-gilded image 
 kissed by cold and heedless lips, of a mass droned 
 every Sunday by an old priest whose thoughts be 
 long to the earth. Ah ! doubtless Stephane sin 
 cerely believes in the holy mysteries which are 
 wrought over the altars behind the gilded partitions 
 of the iconostase ; but does he know those other mys 
 teries of consolation and hope which a living faith 
 accomplishes in our hearts ? Has he ever felt the 
 presence of the Divinity in his life and in things 
 that surround him ? Has he ever felt his soul, beaten 
 by the tempests of divine love, founder with joy in 
 the ocean of eternal light ? Father Alexis, father 
 Alexis, how much evil you have done this chijd ! 
 
 " But may not Stephane be a vicious child, whose 
 perverse instincts a justly provoked father seeks to 
 curb by a pitiless discipline ? No, a thousand times 
 no ! It is false, it is impossible, it is only neces 
 sary to look at him to be satisfied of this. His 
 face is often hard, cold, scornful ; but it never ex 
 presses a low thought, a pollution of soul, or a pre 
 cocious corruption of mind. In his quiet moods 
 there is upon his brow a stamp of infantile purity. 
 I was wrong in supposing that his soul had lost its 
 youth. At least it has preserved the faculty of re 
 juvenating itself at intervals. There are moments 
 when it shakes off the heavy burden of its sorrows, 
 to breathe and to repose. In these moments Ste 
 phane appears younger than he really is. His eyes 
 which become limpid, his delicate and transparent 
 complexion, his smooth cheeks and even his chin, 
 
78 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 where yet not a single downy hair appears, all these 
 indicate the child. But when the master appears, a 
 gloom instantly spreads over his face, extinguishing 
 all its light ; his closed lips express a weight of 
 wearines which is fearful, and one would say that, 
 like St. John the Silent, he had not spoken for forty- 
 eight years. Again, the master gone, his years van 
 ish, and but fourteen remain. There is youth in the 
 violence of his language, in his inordinate taste for 
 hyperbole, in these overflowing torrents of words by 
 which he relieves his oppressed heart. The other 
 day he came into the din ing-hall before his father, 
 and finding himself alone with me, he discharged all 
 in a breath, a volley of sharp and biting words : 
 Take me for a target, without hesitation, I inwardly 
 said to him ; * this fencing does you good. 
 
 " Another sign of innocence is the freshness and 
 vividness of his impressions. In vain he tries to 
 conceal them, he affects little things profoundly, and 
 has not lost the faculty of living in detail, which is 
 most conclusive testimony that a mind has not done 
 with childhood. In short, he is not voluntarily un 
 happy, and however heavy the cross may be upon 
 his young shoulders, he stoops to gather up little con 
 solations, the slight pleasures which he meets on his 
 way. In the prosecution of his suit against destiny, 
 he has lost his great claim, but still pleads for the inci 
 dentals. And in this I see a proof that the energies of 
 his being are not entirely shattered. Ah ! if hope 
 ever again diffuses in this soul a pale and flickering 
 glimmer, winds of heaven respect the humble flame, 
 quench not the last smoking spark of the candle ! 
 A single star shining in the blackness of the night is 
 almost day to those who suffer. Alas ! with what 
 cruel harshness they dispute the little pleasures which 
 remain to him. In spite of his jests over the perri- 
 winkles, he has a taste for flowers, and had obtained 
 from the gardener the concession of a little plot of 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 79 
 
 ground to cultivate according to his fancy. The 
 Count, it appears, had ratified this favor ; but this 
 unheard-of condescension proved to be but a refine 
 ment of cruelty. For some time, every evening after 
 dinner, Stephane passed an hour in his little parterre ; 
 he plucked out the weeds, planted, watered, and 
 watched with a paternal eye the growth of his favor 
 ites. Yesterday, an hour after the sanguinary casti- 
 gation, while his father was dressing Ivan s wounds, 
 he had gone out on tiptoe. Some minutes after, as I 
 was walking upon the terrace, I saw him occupied, 
 with absorbing gravity, in this great work of watering. 
 I was but a few paces from him, when the gardener 
 approached, pickaxe in hand, and, without a word, 
 struck it violently into the middle of a tuft of verbe 
 nas which grew at one end of the plot of ground. 
 Stephane raised himself briskly, and, believing him 
 stupid, threw himself upon him, crying out : 
 " Wretch, what are you doing there ? 
 " I am doing what his excellency ordered me 
 to, answered the gardener. 
 
 " At this moment the Count strolled towards us, 
 his hands in his pockets, humming an aria, and an 
 expression of amiable good humor on his face. Ste 
 phane extended his arms towards him, but one of 
 those looks which always petrifies him kept him si 
 lent and motionless in the middle of the pathway. 
 He watched with wild eyes the fatal pickaxe ravage 
 by degrees his beloved garden. In vain he tried to 
 disguise his despair ; his legs trembled and his heart 
 throbbed violently. He fixed his large eyes upon his 
 dear devastated treasures ; two great tears escaped 
 them and rolled slowly down his cheeks. But when 
 the instrument of destruction approached a magnifi 
 cent carnation, the finest ornament of his garden, 
 his heart failed him, he uttered a piercing cry, and 
 raising his hands to Heaven, ran away sobbing. The 
 Count looked after him as he rled, and an atrocious 
 smile passed over his lips ! Ah ! if this father does 
 
8O COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 not hate his son, I know not what hatred is, nor how 
 it depicts itself upon a human face. Meantime I 
 threw myself between the carnation and the pickaxe, 
 as an hour before between the knout and Ivan. Ste- 
 phane s despair had rent my heart ; I wished at any 
 cost to preserve this flower which was so dear to him. 
 The face of Kostia Petrovitch took all hope from me. 
 It seemed to say : 
 
 " You still indulge in sentiment ; this is a little 
 too much of it. 
 
 " This plant is beautiful, I said to him ; why de 
 stroy it ? 
 
 " * Ah ! you love flowers, my dear Gilbert ; an 
 swered he, with an air of diabolical malice. I am 
 truly glad of it ! 
 
 " And turning to the gardener, he added : 
 
 " You will carefully take up all these flowers and 
 place them in pots they shall decorate Monsieur s 
 room. I am delighted to have it in my power to do him 
 this little favor. 
 
 " Thus speaking, he rubbed his hands gleefully, 
 and turning his back upon me, commenced humming 
 his tune again. He was evidently satisfied with his 
 day s work. 
 
 "And now Stephane s flowers are here under my 
 eyes, they have become my property. Oh ! if he knew 
 it ! I do not doubt that M. Leminof wishes his son to 
 hate me ; and his wish is gratified. Overwhelmed with 
 respect and attentions, petted, praised, extolled, 
 treated as favorite and grand vizier, how can I be 
 otherwise than an object of scorn and aversion to 
 this young man ? But could he read my heart ! what 
 would he read there, after all ? An impotent pity 
 from which his pride would revolt. I can do noth 
 ing for him ; I could not mitigate his misfortunes or 
 pour balm into his wounds. 
 
 " Go, then, Gilbert, occupy yourself with the 
 Byzantines ! Remember your contract, Gilbert ! The 
 master of this house has made you promise not to 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 8 1 
 
 meddle in his affairs. Translate Greek, my friend, 
 and, in your leisure moments, amuse yourself with 
 your puppets. Beyond that, closed eyes and sealed 
 mouth ; that must be your motto. But do you say, 
 I shall become wretched in seeing this child suffer ? 
 Well ! if your useless pity proves too much of a bur 
 den, six months hence you can break your bonds, 
 resume your liberty, and with three hundred crowns 
 in your pocket, you can undertake that journey to 
 Italy, object of your secret dreams and most ardent 
 longing. Happy man ! arming yourself with the 
 white staff of the pilgrim, you will shake the dust of 
 Geierfels from your feet, and go far away to forget, 
 before the facades of Venetian palaces, the dark mys 
 teries of the old gothic castle and its wicked occu 
 pants." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 As Gilbert rapidly traced these last lines, the din 
 ner-bell sounded. He descended in haste to the 
 grand ha 1. They were already at the table. 
 
 " Tell me, if you please," said Count Kostia, 
 addressing him gayly, " what you think of our new 
 comrade ? " 
 
 Gilbert then noticed a fifth guest, whose face was 
 not absolutely unknown to him. This newly invited 
 individual was seated at the right of father Alexis, 
 who seemed to relish his society but little, and was no 
 less a personage than Solon, the favorite of the mas 
 ter, one of those apes which are vulgarly called 
 "monkeys in mourning," with black hair, but with 
 face, hands and feet of a reddish brown. 
 
 " You will not be vexed with me for inviting Solon 
 to dine with us ? " continued M. Leminof. " The 
 poor beast has been hypochondriacal for several days, 
 6 
 
82 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 and I am glad to procure this little distraction for 
 him. I hope it will dissipate it. I cannot bear mel 
 ancholy faces ; hypochondria is the fate of fools who 
 have no mental resources." 
 
 He pronounced these last words half turning 
 towards Stephane. The young man s face was more 
 gloomy than ever. His eyes were swollen, and dark 
 circles surrounded them. The indignation with which 
 the brutal remark of his father filled him, gave him 
 strength to recover from his dejection. He resolute 
 ly set about eating his soup, which he had not touched 
 before, and feeling that Gilbert s eyes were fixed upon 
 him, he raised his head quickly and darted upon him a 
 withering glance. Gilbert thought he divined that he 
 called him to account for his carnation, and could not 
 help blushing, so true is it that innocence does not 
 suffice to secure one a clear conscience. 
 
 " Frankly, now," resumed the Count, lowering his 
 voice, " don t you see some resemblance between the 
 two persons who adorn the lower end of this table ? " 
 
 " The resemblance does not strike me," answered 
 Gilbert, coldly. 
 
 " Ah ! man Dieu, I do not mean to say that they 
 are identical in all points. I readily grant that father 
 Alexis uses his thumbs better ; I admit, too, that 
 he has a grain or two more of phosphorus in his 
 brain, for you know the savants of to-day, at their 
 own risk and peril, have discovered that the human 
 mind is nothing but a phosphoric tinder-box." 
 
 "It is these same savants," said Gilbert, "who 
 consider genius a nervous disorder. Much good may 
 it do them. They are not my men." 
 
 " You treat science lightly ; but answer my ques 
 tion seriously : do you not discover certain analogies 
 between these two personages in black clothes and 
 red faces ? " 
 
 " My opinion, interrupted Gilbert impatiently, 
 " is that Solon is very ugly, and that father Alexis is 
 very handsome." 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 83 
 
 "Your answer embarrasses me," retorted the 
 Count, " and I don t know whether I ought to thank 
 you for the compliment you pay my priest, or be 
 angry at the hard things you say of my monkey. 
 One thing is certain," added he, " that my monkey 
 and my priest, I m wrong, my priest and my mon 
 key, resemble each other in one respect : they have 
 both a passionate appetite for truffles. You will 
 soon see." 
 
 They were just serving a fowl with truffles. Solon 
 devoured his portion in the twinkling of an eye, and 
 as he was prone to coveting the property of others, 
 he fixed his eyes, full of affectionate longing, on his 
 neighbor s plate. Active, adroit, and watching his op 
 portunity, he seized the moment when the priest was 
 carrying his glass to his lips, to extend his paw, seize 
 a truffle, and swallow it, was the work of but half a 
 second. Beside himself with indignation, the holy 
 man turned quickly and looked at the robber with 
 flashing eyes. The monkey was but little affected by 
 his anger, and to celebrate the happy success of his 
 roguery, he capered and frisked in a ridiculous and 
 frantic way, clinging with his fore paws to the back 
 of his chair. The good father shook his head sadly, 
 moved his plate further off, and returned to his eat 
 ing, not, however, without watching the movements 
 of the enemy from the corner of his eye. In vain 
 he kept guard ; in spite of his precautions, a new 
 attack, a new larceny and fresh caperings of joy by 
 the monkey. Father Alexis at last lost patience, aud 
 the monkey received a vigorous blow full in the muz 
 zle, which drew from him a sharp shriek ; but at the 
 same instant the priest felt two rows of teeth bury 
 themselves in his left cheek. He could hardly re 
 press a cry, and gave up the game, leaving Solon to 
 gorge himself to his beard in the spoils, while he 
 busied himself in staunching his wound, from which 
 the blood gushed freely. 
 
 The Count affected to be ignorant of all that 
 
84 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 passed ; but there was a merry sparkle in his eyes 
 which testified that not a detail of this tragic com 
 edy had escaped his notice. 
 
 " You appear to distrust Solon, father," said he, 
 seeing that the priest pushed back his chair and kept 
 at a distance from the baboon. " You are wrong. 
 He has very sweet manners; he is incapable of a bad 
 action. He is only a little sad now, but in his mel 
 ancholy, he observes all the rules of good breeding ; 
 which is not the case with all melancholy people," 
 added he, throwing a look at Stephane, who, taken 
 with a sudden access of sadness, had just leaned his 
 elbow upon the table and made a screen of his right 
 hand to hide his tears from his father. Gilbert felt 
 himself near stifling, and as soon as he could, left the 
 table. Fortunately no one followed him onto the 
 terrace. Stephane had no more flowers to cultivate, 
 and went to shut himself up in his high tower. On 
 his part, father Alexis went to dress his wound ; as to 
 M. Leminof, he was displeased with the cool and, as 
 he thought, composed air with which Gilbert had 
 listened to his pleasantries, and he retired to his 
 study, promising himself to give to Monsieur his 
 secretary, whom, nevertheless, he valued very highly, 
 that last touch of pliancy which he needed for his 
 perfection. Count Kostia was of an age when even 
 the strongest mind feels the necessity of occasional re 
 laxation, and he would have been glad to have near 
 him a pliant, agreeable companion, and enchanted 
 could that companion have been his secretary. 
 
 Gilbert strode across the terrace, and, leaning 
 over the parapet, gazed long and silently at the 
 high road. " Ten months yet ! " said he to himself, 
 and contracting his brows, he turned to look at the 
 odious castle, where destiny had cast his lot. It 
 seemed as if the old pile wished to avenge itself for 
 his ill humor : never had it been clothed with such 
 a smiling aspect. A ray of the setting sun rested 
 obliquely upon its wide roof; the bricks had the 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 85 
 
 warm color of amber, the highest points were bathed 
 in gold dust, and the gables and vanes threw out 
 sparks. The air was balmy ; the lilacs, the citron, the 
 jasmine, and the honeysuckle intermingled their per 
 fumes, which the almost imperceptible breath of the 
 north wind spread in little waves to the four corners 
 of the terrace. And these wandering perfumes min 
 gled themselves, in passing, with other odors more 
 delicate and more subtle ; from each leaf, each pe 
 tal, each blade of grass, exhaled secret aromas, 
 mute words which the plants exchange with each 
 other, and which revealed to Gilbert s heart the great 
 mystery of happiness which animates the soul of 
 things. 
 
 Intoxicated in all his senses, he congratulated 
 himself that he was still able to relish those contem 
 plative joys which had rendered him so happy during 
 the first two weeks of his stay at Geierfels. He 
 crossed the terrace to where, between an acacia ele 
 gantly trimmed and a catalpa with pale green leaves, 
 there nestled a marble basin whose cracked edges 
 were covered with moss and wild cresses. Limpid 
 water filled this cup, encircled by the velvety grass of 
 the lawn, and from its centre, on a porphyry pedestal, 
 rose a statue yellowed and defaced by time, represent 
 ing a dancing faun. An Olympian smile played 
 about his lips. The horned god leaned forward 
 from the height of his pedestal, gazing at his tremu 
 lous image, to which the water lilies bordering the 
 basin formed a verdant frame. He seemed to take 
 delight in seeing his mirth reflected in the limpid 
 reservoir which, rippled at intervals by the straying 
 wind, multiplied his laugh and dispersed it in every 
 direction. At the same time, the mouth of the sub 
 terranean canal which conveyed the water to the 
 basin, emptying itself with a slight noise, lent a voice 
 to this soul of silent irony which the sculptor had en 
 closed in the marble bosom of his statue. 
 
 Gilbert, leaning his back against the trunk of the 
 
86 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 catalpa, gazed upon this fresh and charming picture ; 
 but the mocking mirth of the fawn said nothing to 
 his heart, and his eyes rested in preference upon a 
 magnificent nymphaea which, upborne upon its long 
 stem, floated dreamily on the surface of the water. 
 Its brilliant white corolla seemed to him the symbol 
 of the deep pure joys which enter the heart of man 
 when God descends from heaven to dwell in it, and 
 at moments he repeated to himself in a low voice the 
 sacred device of Buddhism: Eternal peace in the lo 
 tus / As he crossed the grass-plot which surrounded 
 the basin, his eye fell upon something which made 
 a dark spot in this brilliant parterre. It was a little 
 piece of uncultivated ground, a place gloomy and 
 desolate the poor devastated garden of Stephane. 
 At this sight, his heart was oppressed ; he hurried 
 away and took refuge in the northern extremity of 
 the terrace. There grew an immense weeping ash, 
 the branches of which bending down to the ground, 
 formed a charming arbor. In the middle of this 
 summer house of entwined branches, a neighboring 
 laburnum hung its grapes of yellow gold, which ex 
 haled an exquisite odor. A circular bank surrounded 
 the trunk of the ash, and Gilbert threw himself de 
 jectedly upon it. He was angry with himself, when 
 he found that the tearful face of Stephane pursued 
 him anew. " Ah ! " thought he, " this child has just had 
 new cause for sorrow, and is probably still weeping 
 shut up in his tower, leaning upon his table, alone, 
 a prey to himself, without a friend to ask about his 
 trouble, to console, to pity and to comfort him. But 
 I cannot dry his tears. Why trouble myself about 
 him ? Plague on a useless pity which spoils my life 
 and helps no one ! 
 
 Gilbert was determined to drown his sorrows this 
 evening in the divine harmonies of nature. To suc 
 ceed the better, he called poetry to his aid, for the 
 great poets are the eternal mediators between the 
 soul of things and our feeble hearts of earth and clay. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 8? 
 
 He recited the distiches where Goethe has related in 
 a tongue worthy of Homer or Lucretius the meta 
 morphosis of the plants. This was placed like a pre 
 amble at the beginning of the volume which he 
 carried with him in his walks, and he had learn 
 ed it by heart a few days before. The better to 
 penetrate the sense of these admirable lines, he tried 
 to translate them into french alexandrines, which he 
 sometimes composed. This effort at translation soon 
 appeared to him beyond his abilities ; all the French 
 words seemed too noisy, too brilliant or too vulgar, or 
 too solemn to render these mute accents, these intona 
 tions veiled as if in religious mystery, by which the au 
 thor of Faust intended to express the subtle sounds 
 and even the silence of nature. We know that it is 
 only in German poetry that we can hear the grass 
 growing from the bosom of the earth, and the ce 
 lestial spheres revolving in space. 
 
 Every language has its pedals and its peculiar 
 registers ; the Teutonic muse alone can execute these 
 solemn airs which must be played with the soft ped 
 al. For more than an hour Gilbert exhausted him 
 self in vain attempts, and at last, disheartened, he 
 contented himself with reciting aloud the poem 
 which he despaired of translating. He uttered the 
 first part with the fire of enthusiasm ; but his voice 
 fell as he pronounced the following passage : 
 
 " Every flower, my beloved, speaks to thee in a 
 voice distinct and clear ; every plant announces to 
 thee plainly the eternal laws of life ; but these sacred 
 hieroglyphics of the goddess which thou decipherest 
 upon their perfumed foreheads, thou wilt find every 
 where hidden under other emblems. Let the cater 
 pillar drag itself creeping along, and soon the light 
 butterfly darts rapidly through the air ; and let man 
 also, with his power of self-development, follow the 
 circle of his soul s metamorphoses. Oh! then wilt 
 thou remember that the bond which united our spir 
 its was first a germ from which sprang in time a 
 
88 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 sweet and charming acquaintance ; friendship in its 
 turn soon revealed its power in our hearts, until love 
 came at last, crowning it with flowers and fruits." 
 
 At this place a light cloud of sadness passed over 
 Gilbert s face ; he felt a secret dissatisfaction at 
 meeting in the verses of his favorite poet, a passage 
 which he could not apply to his own experience. 
 
 " Apparently," said he to himself after some re 
 flection, " up to this time I have not met the soul, 
 twin sister to my own, which God destines for my 
 love, or if I have met her, she has not given me time 
 to recognize her. In matters of passion, I am not 
 one of those who precipitates events. My senti 
 ments are submissive to the law of insensible pro 
 gress ; they know nothing about sudden and miracu 
 lous developments. Yes, a simple acquaintance to 
 commence with, then friendship and at last love, the 
 caterpillar becoming a butterfly, and trying his azure 
 wings, and the tree covering itself with flowers and 
 fruit, some day perhaps in my pilgrimage to Italy 
 chi lo sa ? " 
 
 Meanwhile night had come, a night like a soft 
 ened and refreshed day. The radiant moon shone 
 in the zenith ; she inundated the fields of heaven 
 with soft whiteness, she shook her torch over the 
 Rhine and made the crests of its restless waves scin 
 tillate ; she poured over the tops of the trees a rain 
 of silvery light; she suspended from their branches 
 necklaces of sapphires and azure diamonds, which 
 the breeze in passing sportively dashed together. 
 The great slumbering woods thrilled at the touch of 
 this dew of light which bathed their lofty brows ; they 
 felt something divine insinuating itself in the horror 
 of their sombre recesses. From time to time a 
 nightingale gave to the wind a few notes sonorous 
 and sustained ; it seemed the voice of the forest, 
 speaking in its sleep, its soul carried away in ecstasy 
 exhaling its intoxication in a long sigh of love. 
 
 Gilbert had been sitting up very late recently since 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 89 
 
 he had decided to remain but a short time at Geierfels, 
 and he had grown pale over the Byzantines in the hope 
 of advancing in his task so much, that Count Kostia 
 would more easily consent to his departure. Ro 
 bust as was his constitution, he finished by tiring 
 himself out, and nature claiming its rights, sleep 
 seized him at the moment when he was about leav 
 ing the bank to seek his room, and have a little noc 
 turnal chat with Agathias and Procopius. 
 
 When he awoke, the moon had already declined 
 towards the horizon, which discovery surprised him 
 greatly, as he thought he had slept but a few mo 
 ments. He rose and shook his limbs, stiff from the 
 dampness. Fortunately, he was the only one at Geier 
 fels who had free ingress and egress ; the turret 
 which he inhabited communicated with the terrace by 
 a private staircase, to the entrance of which he had 
 the key. Fortunately too the bull dogs had learned 
 to know him, and never dreamed of disturbing his 
 movements. He gained the little door without any 
 difficulty, opened it, and having lit a candle which he 
 drew from his pocket, commenced cautiously to as 
 cend the winding staircase, the steps of which were 
 broken in many places. He had just reached the first 
 landing where terminated the spacious corridor which 
 extended along the principal facade parallel with the 
 terrace, and was preparing to cross it, when he heard 
 a long and painful groan, which seemed to come from 
 the other end of the gallery. Starting, he remained 
 motionless some moments, with neck extended and 
 ears alert, peering into the obscurity from whence he 
 expected to see some melancholy phantom emerge ; 
 but almost immediately a gust of wind driving 
 through the broken square of a dormer window made 
 it grind upon its hinges and give out a plaintive sound, 
 which reverberated through the corridor. Gilbert then 
 fancied that what he had taken for a sigh was only the 
 moaning of the wind, counterfeiting in its melancholy 
 gambols the voice of human grief. Resuming his as- 
 
90 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 cent, he had already mounted some steps, when a 
 second groan, still more dismal than the first, reached 
 his ears and froze the blood in his veins. He was sure 
 he could not be deceived now ; the wind had no such 
 accents it was a wail, sharp, harsh and heartrending, 
 which seemed as though it might come from the 
 bosom of a spectre. 
 
 A thousand sinister suppositions assailed Gilbert s 
 mind, but he gave himself no time to reflect. Agi 
 tated, panting, his head on fire, he sprang with one 
 bound down the staircase and reaching the entrance 
 of the gallery, cried out in a trembling voice and 
 scarcely knowing what he said : 
 
 " Who s there ? Who wants assistance ? I, Gil 
 bert, am ready to come to his aid ! " 
 
 His voice was swallowed up and lost in the som 
 bre arches of the corridor. No answer ; the dark 
 ness remained dumb. In the rapidity of his move 
 ment, Gilbert had extinguished his candle ; he pre 
 pared to relight it, when a bat flew by and struck his 
 forehead with his wings. The start which this unfore 
 seen attack gave him, made him drop the candle ; he 
 stooped to pick it up, but could not find it. In spite 
 of this accident, he walked on. A feeble ray of 
 moonlight which came in by the dormer window and 
 shed through the entrance of the corridor a long 
 thread of blueish light, seemed to guide him a few 
 steps. Then he groped his way with arms extended 
 and touching the wall. Every few steps he stopped 
 and listened, and repeated in a voice hoarse with ex 
 citement: 
 
 " Who s there ? You who are moaning, can I 
 do anything to help you ? " 
 
 Nothing answered him except the beating of his 
 heart and the murmur of the wind, which continued 
 to torment the hinges of the dormer window. 
 
 The gallery into which Gilbert had entered, was 
 divided half way in its length by two steps, at the 
 bottom of which was a large iron door, always kept 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 9 1 
 
 open during the day, but closed and double locked as 
 night set in. Approaching this, Gilbert saw a feeble 
 light glimmering beneath the door. He descended 
 the steps, and looking through the key-hole from 
 which the key had been withdrawn, saw what changed 
 the frightful anguish he had just been suffering into 
 surprise and terror. 
 
 At twenty paces from him he saw the appalling 
 figure of a phantom standing erect ; it was enveloped 
 in a large white cloth wound several times round its 
 body, passing under its left arm, and falling over the 
 right shoulder. In one hand it held a torch and a 
 sword, in the other an oval ebony frame of which 
 Gilbert could only see the back, but which seemed to 
 enclose a portrait. The face of this spectre was ema 
 ciated, drawn and of unusual length ; its skin, wither 
 ed and dry, seemed to be incrusted upon its bones, its 
 complexion was sallow ; a profuse perspiration trick 
 led from its brows and glued the hair to its tem 
 ples. Nothing could describe the expression of 
 terror in its face. It seemed to Gilbert that its two 
 burning eyeballs penetrated even through the door, 
 though they saw nothing which surrounded them ; 
 their vision seemed turned within, and the invisible 
 object which fastened their gaze, a heart haunted by 
 spectres. 
 
 Suddenly the lips of this nocturnal wanderer 
 opened, and another groan more fearful than the first 
 issued from them. It seemed as if his burdened 
 breast wished to shake off by a violent effort a moun 
 tain of weariness, the weight of which was crushing 
 it, or rather as though the soul sought to expel itself 
 in this despairing cry. Gilbert was seized with inex 
 pressible agitation, his hair stood on end. He start 
 ed to fly ; but a curiosity stronger than his terror pre 
 vented him from leaving the spot and kept him rivet 
 ed to the door. By the eyebrows and cheek bones, 
 in spite of the distortion of the face, he had recog 
 nized Count Kostia. 
 
Q2 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 At length this sinister somnambulist stirred from 
 his motionless position and advanced at a slow pace ; 
 he walked like an automaton. After taking a dozen 
 steps he stopped, looked around him and slightly 
 bent forward. His strained features resumed their 
 natural proportions, life re-animated his brow, the 
 deathlike inertia of his face gave place to an expres 
 sion of sadness and prostration. For a few seconds 
 his lips moved, without saying a word, as if to become 
 flexible and fashioned anew to the use of speech ; 
 then, in a soft voice which Gilbert did not recognize, 
 and with the plaintive accents of a suffering child, he 
 murmured : 
 
 " How heavy this portrait is ! I can carry it no 
 longer ; take it out of my hands, it burns them. In 
 mercy, extinguish this fire. I have a brand in my 
 breast. It must be kept covered with ashes ; when I 
 can see it no more, I shall suffer less. It is my eyes 
 that make me suffer, if I were blind I could return to 
 Moscow." 
 
 Then in a harsher voice : 
 
 " I could easily destroy this likeness, but the other, 
 I cannot kill it, curses on me ! it is the better portrait 
 of the two. There is her hair, her mouth, her smile. 
 Ah, thank God, I have killed the smile. The smile 
 is no longer there. I have buried the smile. But 
 there is the mole in the corner of the mouth. I 
 have kissed it a thousand times ; take away that 
 mole, it hurts me. If that mole were gone I should 
 suffer less. Merciful Heaven ! it is always there. 
 But I have buried the smile. The smile is no more. 
 I have buried it deep in a leaden coffin. It can t 
 come .... 
 
 Then suddenly changing his accent, and in a 
 tragical, but bitter voice, his eyes fixed upon the large 
 rusty sword which he held in his right hand, he mut 
 tered : 
 
 " The spot will not go away." The iron will not 
 drink it. It was not for this blood it thirsted. I 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 93 
 
 shall find it in the other, it will drink that. Ah ! we 
 shall see how it will drink it." 
 
 Upon this, he relapsed into silence and appeared 
 to be thinking deeply. Then raising his head, he 
 cried in a voice so strong and vibrating that the iron 
 door trembled upon its hinges : 
 
 " Morlof, then it was not thou ! " Ah ! my dear 
 friend, I was deceived. . . . Go, do not regret life. 
 It is only the dream of a screech-owl. . . . Believe 
 me, friend, I want to die, but I cannot. I must know 
 .... I must discover. . . . Ah ! Morlof, Morlof, 
 leave thy hands in mine, or I shall think thou hast not 
 forgiven me. . . . God ! how cold these hands are 
 .... cold . . . cold. . . ." 
 
 And at these words he shuddered ; his head moved 
 convulsively upon his shoulders, and his teeth chat 
 tered ; but soon calming himself, he murmured : 
 
 " I want to know the name, I must know that 
 name ! Is there no one who can tell me that name ?" 
 
 Thus speaking, he raised the picture to a level 
 with his face, and with bent head and extended neck, 
 appeared to be trying to decipher upon the canvas 
 some microscopic writing or obscure hieroglyphics. 
 
 " The name is there ! " said he. " It is written 
 somewhere about the heart, at the bottom of the 
 heart ; but I cannot read it, the writing is so fine, it is 
 a female hand ; I do not know how to read a woman s 
 writing. They have a cipher of which Satan alone 
 has the key. My sight is failing me. I have flies in 
 my head. There is always one of them that hides this 
 name from me. Oh ! in mercy, in pity, take away 
 the fly and bring me a pair of pincers. . . . With 
 
 tood pincers I will seek that name even in the last 
 bres of this heart which beats no more." 
 He added with a terrible air : 
 " The dead do not open their teeth. The one 
 who lives will speak. You shall see how I will make 
 him speak. You shall see how I will make him 
 speak. . . . Tear off his black robe, stretch him on 
 
94 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 this plank. The iron boots ! the iron boots ! tighten 
 the boots ! " 
 
 Then interrupting himself abruptly, he raised his 
 eyes and fixed them upon the door. An expression 
 of fury mingled with terror swept over his face, as if 
 he had suddenly perceived some hideous and alarm 
 ing object. His features became distorted ; his 
 mouth worked convulsively and frothed ; his eyes, 
 unnaturally dilated, darted flames ; he uttered a hol 
 low moan/ took a few steps backward, and suddenly 
 dropping his torch to the ground, where it went out, 
 he cried in a frightful voice : 
 
 " There are eyes behind the door ! there are eyes ! 
 there are eyes ! " 
 
 Horror-struck, distracted, beside himself, Gilbert 
 turned and took to flight. In spite of the darkness, 
 he found his way as if by a miracle. He crossed the 
 corridor at a run, mounted the staircase in three 
 bounds, dashed into his chamber and bolted the door. 
 Then he hurriedly lighted a candle, and having glanced 
 about to assure himself that the phantom had not 
 followed him into his room, dropped heavily upon a 
 chair, stunned and breathless. In a few moments he 
 had collected his thoughts, and was ashamed of his 
 terror ; but in spite of himself his agitation was such 
 that at every noise which struck his ear, he thought 
 he heard the step of Count Kostia ascending the 
 staircase of his turret. It was not until he had bath 
 ed his burning head in cold water, that he recovered 
 something like tranquillity ; and, determining by a su 
 preme effort to banish the frightful images which 
 haunted him, he seated himself at his work-table and 
 resolutely opened one of the Byzantine folios. As 
 he began to read, his eye fell upon an unsealed letter 
 which had been left on his table during his absence ; 
 it ran thus : 
 
 " Man of grand phrases, I write to you to inform 
 you of the hatred with which you inspire me. I 
 wish you to understand that from the first day I saw 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 95 
 
 you, your bearing, your face, your manners, your 
 whole person, have been objects of distrust and aver 
 sion to me. I thought I recognized an enemy in you, 
 and the result has proved that I was not mistaken. 
 Now I hate you, and I tell you so frankly, for I am 
 not a hypocrite, and I want you to know, that just 
 now in my prayers I supplicated St. George to give 
 me an opportunity of revenging myself upon you. 
 What do you want in this house ? What is there be 
 tween us and you ? How long do you intend to toi- 
 ture me with your odious presence, your ironical 
 smiles, and your insulting glances ? Before your ar 
 rival I was not completely unhappy. God be praised, 
 it has been reserved for you to give me the finishing 
 stroke. Before, I could weep at my ease, with none 
 to busy themselves in counting my tears ; the man 
 that makes me shed them does not lower himself to 
 such petty calculations ; he has confidence in me, he 
 knows that at the end of the year the account will be 
 there ; but you ! you watch me, you pry into me, 
 you study me. I see very well that, while you are 
 looking at me, you are indulging in little dialogues 
 with yourself, and these little dialogues are insupport 
 able to me. Mark me now, I forbid you to study 
 me. I forbid you to understand me. It is an 
 affront which you have no right to put upon me, and 
 I have the right to be incomprehensible if it pleases 
 me. Ah ! once a little while ago, I felt that you 
 had your eyes fastened on me again. And then I 
 raised my head, and looked at you steadily and forced 
 you to blush. . . . Yes, you did blush ; do not at 
 tempt to deny it ! What a consolation to me ! What 
 a triumph ! Alas ! for all that, I dare not go to my 
 own window any longer for fear of seeing you ogling 
 the sky, and making declarations of love to nature with 
 your sentimental air. 
 
 Tell me now in a few words, clever man that you 
 are, how you manage to combine so much sentimen 
 tality with such skillful diplomacy ? Tender friend of 
 
96 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 childhood, of virtue and of sunsets, what an adroit 
 courtier you make ! From the first day you came 
 here, the master honored you with his confidence and 
 his affection. How he esteems you ! how he 
 cherishes you ! what attentions ! what favors ! 
 Will he not order us to-morrow to kiss the dust under 
 your feet ? If you want to know what disgusts me 
 the most in you, it is the unalterable placidity of your 
 disposition and your face. You know the faun who 
 admires himself night and day in the basin upon the 
 terrace ; he is always laughing and looks at himself 
 laugh. I detest this eternal laughter from the bot 
 tom of my soul, as I detest you, as I detest the 
 whole world with the exception of my horse Soli man. 
 But he at least is sincere in his gayety ; he shows him 
 self what he really is, life amuses him, great good may 
 it do him ! But you envelope your beatific happiness 
 in an intolerable gravity. Your tranquil airs fill me 
 with consternation ; your great, contented eyes seem 
 to say : " I am very well, so much the worse for the 
 sick ! " One word more. You treat me as a child, 
 I will prove to you that I am not a child in showing 
 you how well I have divined you. The secret of 
 your being is, that you were born without passions ! 
 Confess honestly that you have never in your life 
 felt a sentiment of disgust, of anger or of pity. Is 
 there a single passion, tell me, that you have expe 
 rienced, or that you are acquainted with, except 
 through your books ? Your soul is like your cravat, 
 which is always tied precisely the same way, and has 
 such an air of repose and rationality about it, that it 
 is perfectly insufferable to me. Yes, the bow of that 
 cravat exasperates me ; the two ends are always 
 exactly the same length, and have an effect of inde- 
 rangeability which nearly drives me mad. Not that this 
 famous bow is elegant. No, a thousand times no ! but 
 it has an exasperating accuracy. And in this, behold 
 the true story of your soul. Every night when you 
 go to bed you put it in its proper folds ; every morn- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 97 
 
 ing you unfold it carefully without rumpling it ! And 
 you dare to plume yourself on your wisdom ! What 
 does this pretended wisdom prove ? Nothing, unless 
 it be that you have poor blood, and that you were 
 fifty years old when you were born. There is, how 
 ever, one passion which no one will deny that you 
 possess. You understand me, man of the gilded 
 tongue and the viper s heart, you have a passion 
 common to many others ! But, hold, in commencing 
 this letter, I intended to conceal from you that I had 
 discovered everything. I feared it would give you 
 too much pleasure to learn that I know. Oh ! why 
 can t I make you stand before me now this moment ! 
 I should confound you ! how I would force you to 
 fall at my feet and cry for pardon ! 
 
 " Oh, my dear flowers, my Maltese cross, my ver 
 benas, my white starred flox, and you my musk 
 rosebush, and above all my beautiful variegated car 
 nation, which ought to be opening to-day! Was it 
 then for him, was it to rejoice the eyes of this inso 
 lent parasite, that I planted, watered, and tended you 
 with so much care ? Beloved flowers, will you not 
 share my hate ? Send out from each of your cups, 
 from each of your corollas, some devouring insect, 
 some wasp with pointed sting, some furious horse-fly 
 and let the mall together throw themselves upon him, 
 harrass him and persecute him with their threat 
 ening buzzing, and pierce his face with their 
 poisoned stings. And you yourselves, my cher 
 ished daughters, at his approach, fold up your 
 beautiful petals, refuse him your perfumes, cheat 
 him of his cares and his hopes, let the sap dry up in 
 your fibres, that he may have the mortification of see 
 ing you perish and fall to dust in his hands. And 
 may he, this treacherous man, may he before your 
 blighted petals and drooping stems, pine away him 
 self with ennui, spite, anger and remorse ! 
 7 
 
98 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE domestic corps of M. Leminof consisted of 
 a French cook, a German valet de chambre named 
 Fritz, and the faithful and robust Ivan. He also 
 employed a gardener and a porter ; but they did not 
 form a part of his household, and returned every 
 evening to the neighboring village, where they passed 
 the night. 
 
 The cook and the valet de chambre had been in 
 the service of Count Kostia but a few months. They 
 both slept in the entre-sol, and during the night all 
 communication between the two stories was cut off 
 by a large oaken door at the foot of the grand stair 
 case, which the Count closed and double-locked 
 himself. As to Ivan, his position was not that of a 
 common servant. In his quality of serf, he was the 
 property, the thing of his master ; but his intelli 
 gence and devotion to him had won for him the honor 
 of becoming his man, an appendage of his person. 
 For more than thirty years he had never quitted him ; 
 at Moscow, as well as in his travels, he had served 
 him with irreproachable fidelity, and had mingled in 
 all the great and small adventures of his life ; had 
 given to him essential proofs of his attachment and 
 ability ; and, what was still more important, without 
 ever having been talcen into his confidence, he possess 
 ed all his secrets, yet seemed to see nothing. Real 
 treasure for a master, such a servant, who has the 
 gift of reading his heart, and whose clairvoyance 
 never betrays itself by a word, a smile, or a look. 
 Thus Ivan possessed the full confidence of the Count, 
 and he enjoyed that half liberty which is the portion 
 of responsible agents. Woe to him if at any time he 
 committed the slightest fault ! His least negligence, 
 his most excusable forgetfulness exposed him to se 
 vere punishment, and he cruelly expiated the honor 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 99 
 
 of his responsibility. Dangerous as was this honor, 
 he was still proud of it, for he had a dignity after his 
 fashion. Not but that he had once desired to be 
 emancipated : in his youth he had dreamed of be 
 coming a peddler and pursuing this vocation on the 
 high-roads ; but since his beard had begun to turn grey, 
 he had acquired a taste for sedentary life, and if his 
 master had emancipated him now, he would not have 
 known what to do with his liberty. To feel himself 
 necessary was happiness to him, and his happiness 
 was real. This was the secret of that perpetual smile 
 wh ch surprised Gilbert so much. It must be owned 
 too, that ordinarily, and when he had nothing to re 
 prove him for, M. Leminof treated his serf humanely. 
 If on the preceding day he had chastised him with so 
 much rigor for an offence which was not attributable 
 to him, it was because he had arrears to make up. 
 Six weeks before, as we have seen, the indefatigable 
 watchfulness of Ivan was defeated by his prisoner; 
 and Stephane, for the first time in his life, had coursed 
 the plains without his guardian. This unforeseen 
 escapade had plunged Ivan into such an excess of 
 despair, that Count Kostia had taken pity on him. 
 
 " Do not tear thy hair, my son ! he had said to 
 him. " For this once I pardon thee ; but I do not 
 pardon second offences, and for the least negligence 
 thou shalt be paid double." 
 
 Still, after having beaten him, the Count had 
 dressed his wounds with his own hands, a proof of 
 benevolence by no means common. The next day, 
 when father Alexis had been bitten by the odious So 
 lon, had Count Kostia bathed the poor priest s bloody 
 cheek with his own hands ? Had he even dreamed 
 of offering his ointment to him ? Ah ! it was because, 
 in the scale of his affections, his serf and his chap 
 lain did not weigh the same ! 
 
 Thus Ivan had reasons for not being too much 
 discontented with his master, and he had better yet 
 for being contented with himself. He possessed a 
 
100 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 certain natural nobility of character mingled with 
 gentleness, his manners were grave and circumspect, 
 and he was always self-possessed ; no free man ever 
 respected himself more. Satisfied with his lot, he 
 was not tempted to seek forgetfulness of it in the ex 
 citement of intoxication ; he never drank strong 
 liquors, but to make up for it, had a very pronounced 
 taste for tea, which Count Kostia let him drink at dis 
 cretion, and when he had swallowed five or six cups, 
 he generally found himself in a state of tranquil ec 
 stasy, in which he fully enjoyed life and himself. In 
 these moments he would often sing with a pure and 
 melodious voice, accompanying himself with a gui 
 tar, one of those popular songs of his country, whose 
 beauty strikes all travellers. Oh poor sick nerves of 
 Stephane, what grievous disturbance these songs and 
 this guitar caused you ! Let us add that Ivan also 
 knew nothing of another kind of intoxication very 
 common in his class : he was never intemperate 
 in his language. Away from his master as in 
 his presence, he had the same quiet manner and 
 was as discreet in his speech as in his conduct. In 
 credibly strong, handling upon occasion with incom 
 parable skill the hatchet which he always carried sus 
 pended from his girdle, capable with its aid of con 
 structing at need a boat, a wagon or a house, he 
 possessed, without the vices of the moujiks^ all the 
 qualities of body and mind which will perhaps make 
 them, when they shall have shaken off the yoke of 
 servitude and misery, one of the first peoples of the 
 earth. One thing however grieved Ivan. He had a 
 sensitive heart, and he wished that good might come 
 to all who surrounded him. This was another thing 
 which his smile indicated. To be loved by Stephane 
 he would have given much; but this was a problem 
 as difficult to solve as the quadrature of the circle. 
 Plow could Stephane ever love one whose sight re 
 called to him unceasingly all the misery of his con 
 dition the agent of the tyrant, the turnkey of his 
 
COUNT KQSTIA. IOI 
 
 prison ? And when I say rjfisori, it is not a figure of 
 speech. Stephane haf ve.fcy :ne*afry^th;;li{e: bf - a 
 prisoner, and if there we re - J fro* bars aphis Window, it 
 was only because it looked out upon a steep roof, 
 which sloped over a precipice ; this was enough to 
 render gratings unnecessary. M. Leminof s apart 
 ments were in a sort of projection of the building, 
 upon which the two long parallel galleries opened, one 
 leading to Gilbert s turret, and the other to the square 
 tower occupied by Stephane. The gallery upon the 
 left was divided half-way by a large oak door, as was 
 that on the right by an iron one ; but this oak door nev 
 er opened, there was a wicket in it, the key of which 
 Ivan kept. At a few steps from the door, a long and 
 narrow cabinet opened into the wall : it was here that 
 the serf lodged. Forty paces further at the end of 
 the corridor, appeared the winding staircase which 
 led to the apartments of Stephane, which were in 
 the second story of the tower and consisted of three 
 large rooms. This tower had no secret entrance like 
 the one occupied by Gilbert ; there was no egress 
 except by the corridor, and from the corridor by the 
 wicket. So the young man was well guarded. And 
 remember that the wicket was never opened to him, 
 except on Sunday morning at the hour of mass, twice 
 a week for his ride, and on other days at the dinner 
 hour, which was towards evening. The rest of the 
 time he lived like a recluse, and for diversion could 
 either stand at his casement and watch the sky, or 
 pace the long vaulted corridor like a young lion caged, 
 stopping in his turns pensively, and standing with fold 
 ed arms before the enormous oak door to look at its 
 great hinges, the iron bolts, and the thick timbers, 
 which must seem to him to cast a sarcastic defiance 
 upon his feeble arms, and poor, consuming heart. 
 Thus the private domain of Ivan was composed of a 
 door, a gallery, a tower and a child, and no one ever 
 entered upon his grounds except father Alexis, who 
 came two hours every Saturday to explain the Gate- 
 
102 COU^T KOSTIA. 
 
 chism to Stephane. Ivan alone took charge of the 
 pri&paeFVw^nf$j .he. washed and mended his linen, 
 cut and even made his- clothes ; an office in which 
 he acquitted himself wonderfully, having fairy fin 
 gers and great natural taste. It is well known that in 
 Russia the common people have innate instincts of 
 elegance which betray themselves in all their handi 
 work. It might be considered enough to fill the po 
 sition of valet de chambre, tailor and door-keeper; 
 but in addition, Ivan was governor also, for M. Lem- 
 inof, who troubled himself as little as possible about 
 his son, gave only general instructions, leaving to the 
 serf the task of regulating the details. Ivan was dis 
 posed to make the most moderate use of his power, 
 and if he had yielded to his inclinations, the wicket 
 door would have remained open oftener than closed ; 
 but he knew by experience that even in the interest 
 of his pupil it was necessary to be strict : too much 
 indulgence would have provoked the severity of the 
 master and aggravated the condition of the victim. 
 During the preceding year, the rides on horseback 
 having become too frequent, the Count spoke one 
 day of selling Soliman. This would have been a ter 
 rible blow to Stephane. Soliman, as he wrote Gil 
 bert, was the only being he loved in the world. At 
 another time, at the pressing solicitation of the young 
 man, Ivan had consented to take him several con 
 secutive evenings on the terrace to breathe the fresh 
 air. At the end of a week the Count, whom noth 
 ing escaped, said to Ivan : 
 
 " My son, your young master s hair is too long, I 
 shall soon give you an order to cut it." 
 
 This threat made Ivan shudder, for Stephane, 
 who paid little attention to his person, had been re 
 cently seized with a passionate admiration for his 
 magnificent curls ; he took great care of them, dressed 
 them, perfumed them, and one clay as he gazed at 
 them in the glass with excessive satisfaction, Ivan was 
 forced to smile. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 1 03 
 
 "Do not laugh," cried he turning quickly, "this 
 hair is the only bond which holds me to life ! " 
 
 Cut Stephane s hair ! Ivan s hand would have 
 trembled in executing this barbarous order; but 
 Stephane did not believe in his good intentions. The 
 idea of being governed by a serf was revolting to the 
 pride of this impetuous young man, and his manners 
 betrayed it ; for he who trembled before his father, 
 generally treated with imperious arrogance this in 
 ferior who held him in his power, and who with the 
 end of his little finger could make him bend like a 
 reed. As, however, in spite of his sixteen years and 
 his sad life, he had remained more of a child than 
 could have been believed, he continually flattered 
 himself that he could get the better of his jailer; 
 and to subdue him, he employed means, whose im 
 potence he had proved a hundred times. Sometimes 
 it would be the most absurd arguments, but more 
 frequently he flew into a passion and lavished upon 
 him the greatest contempt. At times, too, with his 
 cap on one side, he woulcl descend the staircase of 
 the tower with a light step, cross the corridor rapidly, 
 and arriving at the wicket, say in a careless tone : 
 
 " Ivan, open the door for me, and go saddle my 
 horse. Go quickly, I m in a hurry." 
 
 Ivan would shrug his shoulders and answer : 
 
 " You are dreaming." 
 
 " And you, you re asleep ! Did you understand 
 me ? The weather is fine ; I want to go out, I want 
 to stroll, I intend to pass the whole day out of doors." 
 
 " You wish ! " Ivan would say, shaking his head 
 in a melancholy way. It is certain that these words 
 " I wish " had a strange effect, pronounced by Ste 
 phane. Then the young man would become angry ; 
 cry, storm, and Ivan would say : 
 
 " Don t speak so loud ; your father will hear you." 
 
 This made him lower his voice ; but his efforts 
 were not remitted, but on the contrary became more 
 violent. To end this, the serf would take down his 
 
104 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 guitar and pretend to tune it, at which Stephane 
 stopping his ears, would fly. These were his 
 good days. There were others, when retired pro 
 foundly within himself and yielding to the weari 
 ness of his lot, he preserved a gloomy silence 
 and sat for whole hours crouching upon the floor 
 in one of the corners of his room, his head in 
 his hands, contemplating with closed eyes the gray 
 and clouded horizon of his life, and trembling at the 
 idea that hours would succeed hours, days days, and 
 years years, without bringing any change in the dry 
 monotony of his existence. 
 
 Gilbert never had any intercourse with Ivan. He 
 sometimes saw him in M. Leminof s study, but they 
 had not exchanged two words since their first meet 
 ing in the forest. The honest serf, who read faces, 
 had vowed to him from the first a respectful affec 
 tion. His sympathies had become still more lively, 
 as might naturally be supposed, since Gilbert had in 
 terceded in his favor, and admiration mingled with 
 them, knowing as he did, better than any one else, 
 how much courage it required to interfere with his 
 terrible master when transported by anger. 
 
 Therefore he wished deadly evil to Fritz, the valet 
 de chambre, for the free talk which he indulged in 
 below stairs in regard to the young secretary. This 
 Fritz, who was at least six feet in height, was a clown 
 of the ante-chamber who thought himself quite a per 
 sonage. Gilbert was but little affected by his dis 
 agreeable ways and supercilious tone ; but one day 
 this master blockhead took such strange liberties with 
 him, that he lost all patience. It happened the very 
 morning after that exciting night in which Gilbert had 
 experienced so many varied emotions. Fritz chose 
 his time badly. There are moments when even the 
 buzzing of a fly will upset the most amiable man in 
 the world. 
 
CO UNT KOSTIA. \ 05 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE castle clock had struck eight, when Gilbert 
 sprang from his bed. Shall I confess that in dress 
 ing himself, when he came to tie his cravat, he hesi 
 tated for a moment? However, after reflection, he 
 adjusted the knot as before, and would you believe it, 
 he tied this famous, this regular knot without concen 
 trating any attention upon it ? His toilet finished, he 
 went to the window. A sudden change had taken 
 place in the weather ; a cold, drizzly rain was falling 
 noiselessly ; very little wind ; the horizon was envel 
 oped in a thick fog ; a long train of low clouds, look 
 ing like gigantic fish, floated slowly through the val 
 ley of the Rhine ; the sky of a uniform grey, seemed 
 to distill weariness and sadness ; land and water were 
 the color of mud. Gilbert cast his eyes upon his 
 dear precipice : it was but a pit of frightful ugli 
 ness. He sank into an arm-chair. His thoughts 
 harmonized with the weather ; they formed a dismal 
 landscape, over which a long procession of gloomy 
 fancies and sinister apprehensions swept silently, like 
 the trail of low clouds which wandered along the 
 borders of the Rhine. 
 
 " No, a thousand times no ! " mused he, " I can t 
 stay in this place any longer; I shall lose my strength 
 here, and my spirits and my health too. To be ex 
 posed to the blind hatred of an unhappy child, whose 
 sorrows drive him to insanity ; to be the table com 
 panion of a priest without dignity or moral elevation, 
 who silently swallows the greatest outrages ; to be 
 come the intimate, the complaisant friend of a great 
 lord, whose past is suspicious, of an unnatural father 
 who hates his son, of a man who at times transforms 
 himself into a spectre, and who, stung by remorse, 
 or thirsting for revenge, fills the corridors of his cas 
 tle with savage howlings, such a position is intolera 
 ble, and I must leave here at any cost ! This castle is an 
 
106 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 unhealthy place ; the walls are odious to me ? I will 
 not wait to penetrate into their secrets any further. 
 
 And Gilbert ransacked his brain for a pretext to 
 quit Geierfels immediately. While engaged in this 
 research, some one knocked at the door : it was Fritz, 
 with his breakfast. 
 
 This morning he had the self-satisfied air of a fool 
 who has worked out a folly by the sweat of his brow, 
 and reached the fortunate moment when he can bring 
 his invention to light. He entered without salutation, 
 placed the tray which he carried upon the table ; 
 then turning to Gilbert, who was seated, said to him, 
 winking his eye : 
 
 " Good morning, comrade ! Comrade, good morn 
 ing ! 
 
 " What do you say ? " said Gilbert astonished, 
 and looking at him steadily. 
 
 " I say : Good morning, comrade ! " replied he, 
 smiling agreeably. 
 
 " And to whom are you speaking, if you please ? " 
 
 " I am speaking to you yourself, my comrade, and 
 I say to you, Good morning, comrade ! good morn 
 ing!" 
 
 " Gilbert looked at him attentively, trying to find 
 some explanation of this strange prank, and this ex 
 cessive and astounding insolence. 
 
 And will you tell me," he continued, after a few 
 moments silence, " will you be good enough to tell 
 me, who gave you permission to call me comrade ? " 
 
 " It was .... it was . . . ." answered Fritz, 
 hemming and hawing. And he reflected a moment, 
 as though trying to remember his lesson, that he might 
 not stumble in its recital. "Ah ! resumed he, it was 
 simply his Excellency the Count, and I cannot con 
 ceive what you see astonishing in it." 
 
 " Have you ever heard the Count," demanded 
 Gilbert, who felt his blood boiling in his veins, " call 
 me your comrade ? " 
 
 " Ah ! certainly ! " he answered with a long burst 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. IO/ 
 
 of laughter. " Every day, when I come from him, M. 
 le Count says to me : Well ! how is your comrade, 
 Gilbert ? And isn t it very natural ? Don t we eat at 
 the same rack ? Are we not, both of us, in the service 
 of the same master ? And don t you see . . . ." 
 
 He was not able to say more, for Gilbert bounded 
 from his chair, and crying : 
 
 " Go and tell your master that he is not my 
 master ! " He seized the valet de chambre by the 
 collar. He was at least a head shorter than his ad 
 versary , but his grasp was like iron ; and in spite of 
 appearances, great Fritz proved but a weak and 
 nerveless body, and greatly surprised at this unex 
 pected attack, he could only open his large mouth 
 and utter some inarticulate sounds. Gilbert had al 
 ready dragged him to the top of the staircase. Then, 
 Fritz recovering from his first flurry, tried to struggle, 
 but he lost his footing, stumbled, and fell headlong 
 down the staircase to the bottom. Gilbert came near 
 following him in his descent, but fortunately saved 
 himself by clinging to the balustrade. As he saw him 
 rolling, he feared that he had been too violent, but 
 felt reassured, when he saw him scramble up, feel 
 himself, rub his back, turn to shake his fist and limp 
 away. 
 
 He returned to his chamber and breakfasted 
 peaceably. 
 
 " Quite an opportune adventure," thought he. 
 " Now I shall be inflexible, unyielding, and if my 
 trunks are not packed before night, I m an idiot." 
 
 Gathering up under his arm a bundle of papers 
 which were needed for the day s work, he left the 
 room, his head erect and his spirits animated ; but 
 he had hardly descended the first flight of steps be 
 fore his exaltation gave way to very different feelings. 
 He could not look without shuddering at the place 
 where he had stood like one petrified, listening to the 
 horrible groans of the somnambulist. He stopped, 
 and, looking at the packet which he held under his 
 
108 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 arm, thought to himself that it was with a spectre he 
 was about to discuss Byzantine history. Then re 
 suming his walk, he arrived at M. Leminof s study, 
 where he almost expected tc see the formidable appa 
 rition of last night appear before his eyes, and hear a 
 sepulchral voice crying out to him : " Those eyes be 
 hind the door were yours ! " He remained motion 
 less a few seconds, his hand upon his heart. At 
 last he knocked. A voice cried : " Come in ." 
 
 He opened the door and entered. Heavens ! 
 how far was the reality from his fancy. 
 
 M. Leminof was quietly seated in the embrasure 
 of the window, looking at the rain and playing with 
 his monkey. He no sooner perceived his secretary 
 than he uttered an exclamation of joy, and after shut 
 ting up Solon in an adjoining room, he approached 
 Gilbert, took both his hands in his and pressed them 
 cordially, saying in an affectionate tone : 
 
 " Welcome, my dear Gilbert, I have been looking 
 for you impatiently. I have been thinking a great deal 
 since yesterday on our famous problem of the Sclavon 
 ic invasions, and I am far from being convinced by 
 your arguments. Be on your guard, my dear sir, be 
 on your guard ! I propose to give you some thrusts 
 that will trouble you to parry." 
 
 Gilbert, who had recovered his tranquillity, seated 
 himself, and the discussion commenced. The point 
 in dispute was the question of the degree of import 
 ance and influence of the establishment of the Scla- 
 vonians in the Byzantine empire during the middle 
 ages. Upon this question, much debated at present, 
 Count Kostia had espoused the opinion most favor 
 able to the ambitions of Muscovite policy. He affect 
 ed to renounce his country and to censure it without 
 mercy; he had even denationalized himself to the ex 
 tent of never speaking his mother tongue and of for 
 bidding its use in his house. In fact, the idiom of Vol 
 taire was more familiar to him than that of Karam- 
 zin, and he had accustomed himself for a long time 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. IOQ 
 
 even to think in French. In spite of all this, and of 
 what ever he might say, he remained Russian at 
 heart : this is a quality which cannot be lost 
 
 Twelve o clock sounded while they were at the 
 height of the discussion. 
 
 " If you agree, my dear Gilbert," said M. Lemin- 
 of, we will give ourselves a little relaxation. " In 
 deed you re truly a terrible fellow ; there s no per 
 suading you. Let us breakfast in peace, if you 
 please, like two good friends, afterwards we will 
 renew the fight." 
 
 The breakfast was invariably composed of toast 
 au caviar and a small glass of Madeira wine ; and 
 every day at noon they suspended work for a few 
 moments to partake of this little collation. 
 
 "Judge of my presumption," suddenly said M. 
 Leminof, underscoring, so to speak, every word, " I 
 passed last night (and he put a wide space between 
 these two words) in pleading against you the cause 
 of my Sclavonians. My arguments seemed to me ir 
 resistible. I beat you all hollow. I am like those 
 fencers who are admirable in the training school, but 
 who make a very bad figure in the field. I had pro 
 digious eloquence last night ; I don t know what has 
 become of it ; it seems to have fled like a phantom at 
 the first crowing of the cock." 
 
 As he pronounced these words, Count Kostia fix 
 ed such piercing eyes on Gilbert, that they seemed 
 to search through to the most remote recesses of his 
 soul. Gilbert sustained the attack with perfect sang 
 froid. 
 
 " Ah ! sir," replied he coolly, " I don t know how 
 you argue at night ; but I assure you by day you re 
 the most formidable logician I know." 
 
 Gilbert s tranquil air dissipated the suspicion 
 which seemed to weigh upon M. Leminof. 
 
 " You act," said he gayly, " like those conquerors 
 who exert themselves to console the generals they 
 have beaten, thereby enhancing their real glory ; but 
 
110 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 bah ! arms are fickle, and I shall have my revenge at 
 an early day." 
 
 " I venture to suggest that you do not delay it 
 long," answered Gilbert in a grave tone. " Who 
 knows how much longer I may remain at Geierfels ? " 
 
 These words re-awakened the suspicions of the 
 Count. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " exclaimed he. 
 
 Whereupon Gilbert related in a firm, distinct tone 
 the morning s adventure. As he advanced in the 
 recital, he became warmer and repeated with an in 
 dignant air the remark which Fritz had attributed to 
 the Count, and strongly emphasized his answer. 
 
 " Go and tell your master that he is not my mas 
 ter." 
 
 He flattered himself that he would pique the 
 Count ; he saw him already raising his head, and 
 speaking in the clouds. He was destined to be mis 
 taken to-day in all his conjectures. From the first 
 words of his eloquent recital, Count Kostia appear 
 ed to be relieved of a pre-occupation which had dis 
 turbed him. He had been prepared for something 
 else, and was glad to find himself mistaken. He lis 
 tened to the rest with an undisturbed air, leaning 
 back in his easy chair with his eyes fixed on the ceil 
 ing. When Gilbert had finished 
 
 " And tell me, pray," said he without changing 
 his posture, " how did you finish this rascal ? " 
 
 I took him by the collar," replied Gilbert, " and 
 flung him down head first." 
 
 " Peste! " exclaimed the Count raising himself and 
 looking at him with an air of surprise and admira 
 tion. " And tell me," resumed he smiling in his en 
 joyment, " did this domestic animal perish in his 
 fall ? " 
 
 " He may perhaps have broken his arms or legs. 
 I didn t take the trouble to inquire." 
 
 M. Leminof rose and folded his arms on his 
 breast. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. I I I 
 
 " See now how liable our judgments are to be led 
 astray, and how full of sense that Russian proverb is 
 which says : It takes more than one day to com 
 pass a man ! Yesterday you had such a sentimen 
 tal pathetic air, when I permitted myself to adminis 
 ter a little correction to my serf, that I took you in 
 all simplicity for a philanthropist. I retract it now. 
 You are one of those tyrants who are only moved 
 for the victims of another. Pure professional jealousy ! 
 But," continued he, " there is one thing which aston 
 ishes me still more, and that is, that you Gilbert, you 
 could for an instant believe " 
 
 He checked himself, bent forward towards Gilbert, 
 and looked at him scrutinizingly, making a shade of 
 his two bony hands extended over his enormous eye 
 brows ; then taking him by the arm, he led him to the 
 embrasure of the window, and as if he had made a 
 sudden change in his person which rendered him 
 irrecognizable : 
 
 " Nothing could be better than your throwing the 
 scoundrel down stairs," said he, " and if he is not 
 quite dead, I shall drive him from here without pity ; 
 but that you should have believed that I, Count Lemi- 
 nof Oh ! it is too much, I dream No, you are 
 not the Gilbert that I know, the Gilbert I love, though 
 I conceal it from myself " 
 
 And taking him by both hands, he added : 
 
 " This man was silly enough to tell you that I was 
 your master, and you replied to him with the Mira- 
 beau tone : Go and tell your master My dear 
 Gilbert, in the name of reason, I ask you to remem 
 ber that the true is never the opposite of the false ; 
 it is another thing, that is all ; but to which I add, that 
 in answering as you did, you have cruelly compro 
 mised yourself. We should never contradict a fool ; 
 it is running the risk of being like him." 
 
 Gilbert blushed. He did not try to amend any 
 thing, but readily changing his tactics, he said smil 
 ing: 
 
112 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " I implore you, sir, not to drive this man away. 
 I want him to stay to remind me occasionally that I 
 am liable to lose my senses." 
 
 But what were his feelings when the Count, hav 
 ing sent for his valet de chambre, said to him : 
 
 " You have not done this on your own responsi 
 bility you received orders. Who gave them ? " 
 
 Fritz answered stammering : 
 
 " Do please forgive me, your excellency ! It was 
 M. Stephane who, yesterday evening, made me a 
 present of two Russian crowns on condition that 
 every morning for a week I should say to M. Saville 
 good morning, comrade. " 
 
 A flash of j oy shone in the Count s eyes. He turned 
 towards Gilbert, and pressing his hand, said to him : 
 
 " For this once, I thank you cordially for having 
 addressed your complaints to me. The affair is more 
 serious than I had thought. There is a malignant 
 abscess there, which must be lanced once for all." 
 
 This surgical comparison made Gilbert shudder ; 
 he cursed his hasty passion and his stupidity. Why 
 had he not suspected the real culprit ? Why was it 
 necessary for him to justify the hatred which Steph 
 ane had avowed towards him ? 
 
 "And how happens it, sir," resumed Count Kos- 
 tia, with less of anger in his tone, " that you have an 
 opportunity of holding secret conversations with my 
 son in the evening? When did you enter his service ? 
 Do you not know that you are to receive neither or 
 ders, messages, nor communications of any kind 
 from him ? " 
 
 Fritz, who in his heart blessed the admirable in 
 vention of lightning rods, explained as well as he 
 could, that the evening before, in going up to his ex 
 cellency s room, he had met Ivan on the staircase, 
 going down to the grand hall to find a cap which his 
 young master had forgotten. Apparently he had ne 
 glected to close the wicket, for Fritz, in going out 
 through the gallery, had found Stephane, who, ap- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 1 1 3 
 
 preaching him steathily, had given him his little les 
 son in a mysterious tone, and as Ivan returned at 
 this moment without the cap he said : 
 
 " Dost thou not see, imbecile, that it s on my 
 head/ and he drew the cap from his pocket and 
 proudly put it on his head, while he ran to his rooms 
 laughing. 
 
 When he had finished his story, Fritz was profuse 
 in his protestations of repentance, servile and tear 
 ful; the Count cut him short, declaring to him, that 
 at the request of Gilbert he consented to pardon him ; 
 but that at the first complaint brought against him, he 
 would give him but two hours to pack. When he had 
 gone out, M. Leminof pulled another bell which com 
 municated with the room of Ivan who presently ap 
 peared. 
 
 "Knowest thou, my son," said the Count to him 
 in German, that thou hast been very negligent for 
 some time ? Thy mind fails, thy sight is feeble. 
 Thou art growing old, my poor friend. Thou art 
 like an old bloodhound in his decline, without teeth 
 and without scent, who knows neither how to 
 hunt the prey nor how to catch it. Thou must be 
 on the retired list. I have already thought of the 
 office I shall give thee in exchange. . . . Oh ! do 
 not deceive thyself. It is in vain to shrug thy shoul 
 ders, my son ; thou art wrong in believing thyself 
 necessary. By paying well I shall easily find one 
 who will be worth as much " , 
 
 Ivan s eyes flashed. 
 
 "I do not believe you," replied he in Russian; 
 " you know very well that you are not amiable, but 
 that I love you in spite of it, and when you have spent 
 a hundred thousand roubles, you will not have secured 
 one to replace me, whose affection for you will be 
 worth a kopeck." 
 
 " Why dost thou speak Russian ?" resumed the 
 Count. " Thou knowest well that I have forbidden 
 H. Apparently thou wishest that no one but myself 
 
114 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 may understand the sweet things which thou sayest to 
 me. Go and cry them upon the roof, if that will give 
 thee pleasure ; but I have never asked thee to love 
 me. I exact only faithful service on thy part, and 
 I answer for it that thy substitute, when his young 
 master shall tell him * go and find my cap, which I 
 have left in the grand hall, will answer him coolly : 
 I am not blind, my little father, your cap is in your 
 pocket. " 
 
 Ivan looked at his master attentively, and the ex 
 pression of his face appeared to reassure him, for he 
 began to smile. 
 
 " Meantime," said the Count, " so long as I keep 
 thee in thy office, study to satisfy me. Go to thy 
 room and reflect, and at the end of a quarter of an 
 hour, bring thy little father here to me ; I want to talk 
 with him, and I will permit thee to listen, if that will 
 give thee pleasure." 
 
 As soon as Ivan had gone, Gilbert begged M. 
 Leminof not to pursue this miserable business. " I 
 have punished Fritz," said he, " with perhaps undue 
 severity ; you yourself have rebuked and threatened 
 him ; I am satisfied." 
 
 " Pardon me. In all this Fritz was but an instru 
 ment. It would not be right to allow the real culprit 
 to go unpunished ! " 
 
 " It is no trouble to me to pardon that culprit," 
 exclaimed Gilbert, with an animation beyond his con 
 trol, " he is so unhappy ! " 
 
 M. Leminof gave Gilbert a haughty and angry 
 look. He strode through the room several times, his 
 hands behind his back ; then, with the easy temper 
 ed air of an absolute prince, who condescends to some 
 unreasonable fancy of one of his favorites, made 
 Gilbert sit down, and placing himself by his side : 
 
 " My dear sir," said he to him, " your last words 
 show a singular forgetful ness on your part of our re 
 ciprocal agreements. You had engaged, if you re 
 member, not to take any interest in any one here but 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 1 1 5 
 
 yourself and myself. After that, what difference can 
 it make to you, whether my son is happy or unhap 
 py ? Since, however, you have raised this question, 
 I consent to an explanation ; but let it be fully under 
 stood, that you are never, never, to revive the subject 
 again. You can readily perceive, that if your society is 
 agreeable to me, it is because I have the pleasure of 
 forgetting with you the petty annoyances of domes 
 tic life. And now speak frankly, and tell me what 
 makes you conclude that my son is unhappy." 
 
 Gilbert had a thousand things to reply, but they 
 were difficult to say. So he hesitated to answer for a 
 moment, and the Count anticipated him : 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! I must needs proceed in advance 
 of your accusations, a concession which I dare to 
 hope you will appreciate. Perhaps you reproach me 
 with not showing sufficient affection for my son in 
 daily life. But what can you expect ? The Lemin- 
 ofs are not affectionate. I don t remember ever to 
 have received a single caress from my father. I 
 have* seen him sometimes pat his hounds, or give 
 sugar to his horse ; but I assure you that I never par 
 took of his sweetmeats or his smiles, and at this 
 hour I thank him for it. The education which he 
 gave me hardened the affections, and it is the best 
 service which a father can render his son. Life is a 
 hard stepmother, my dear Gilbert ; how marry smiles 
 have you seen pass over her brazen lips ! Besides, 
 I have particular reasons for not treating Stephane 
 with too much tenderness. He seems to you to be 
 unhappy, he will be so forever if I do not strive 
 to discipline his inclinations and to break his intract 
 able disposition. The child was born under an evil 
 star. At once feeble and violent, he unites with very 
 ardent passions a deplorable puerility of mind ; inca 
 pable of serious thought, the merest trivialities move 
 him to fever heat, and he talks childish prattle with 
 all the gestures of great passion. And what is worse, 
 interesting himself greatly in himself, he thinks it 
 
Il6 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 very natural that this interest should be shared by all 
 the world. Do not imagine that his is a loving heart 
 that feels a necessity of spending itself on others. 
 He likes to make his emotions spectacular, and as 
 his impressions are events for him, he would like to 
 display them, even to the inhabitants of Sirius. His 
 soul is like a lake swept by a gale of wind that would 
 drive a man-of-war at the rate of twenty-five knots 
 an hour ; and on this lake Stephane sails his squad 
 rons of nut-shells, and sees them come, go, tack, run 
 aground and capsize. He keeps his log-book very 
 accurately, pompously registers all the shipwrecks, 
 and as these spectacles transport him with admira 
 tion, he is indignant to find that he alone is moved 
 by them. This is what makes him unhappy ; and 
 you will agree with me that it is not my fault. The 
 regime which I prescribe for my invalid may appear 
 to you a little severe, but it s the only way by which I 
 can hope to cure him. Leading a regular, uniform 
 life, and sad enough I admit he will gradually be 
 come surfeited with his own emotions when the objects 
 of them are never renewed, and he will end, I hope, 
 by demanding the diversions of work and study. 
 May he be able some day to discover that a problem 
 of Euclid is more interesting than the wreck of a nut 
 shell ! Upon that day he will enter upon full conva 
 lescence, and I shall not be the last to rejoice in it." 
 M. Leminof spoke in a tone so serious and com 
 posed, that for a few moments Gilbert could have 
 imagined him a pedagogue gravely explaining his 
 maxims of education ; but he could not forget that 
 expression of ferocious joy which was depicted on his 
 face at the moment when Stephane fled sobbing from 
 the garden, and he remembered also the somnambulist 
 who, on the preceding night, had uttered certain 
 broken phrases in regard to a living portrait and a 
 buried smile. These mysterious words, terrible in 
 their obscurity, had appeared to him to allude to 
 Stephane, and they accorded badly with the airs of 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 1 1/ 
 
 paternal solicitude which M. Leminof had deigned 
 to affect in the past few minutes. He had a show of 
 reason, however, in his argument; and the picture 
 which he drew of his son, if cruelly exaggerated, had 
 still some points of resemblance. Only Gilbert had 
 reason to think that the Count purposely confounded 
 cause and effect, and that Stephane s malady was 
 the work of the physician. 
 
 " Will you permit me, sir," answered he, " to tell 
 you all that I have on my heart ? " 
 
 " Speak, speak, improve the opportunity : I swear 
 to you it won t occur again." 
 
 And looking at his watch : 
 
 " You have still five minutes to talk with me about 
 my son. Hurry ; I will not grant you two seconds 
 more." 
 
 " I have heard it said," resumed Gilbert, " that in 
 building bridges and causeways, the best foundations 
 are those which humor the waves of the sea. These 
 are foundations with inclined slopes, which, instead 
 of breaking the waves abruptly, check their move 
 ment by degrees, and abate their force without vio 
 lence." 
 
 " You favor anodynes, Monsieur disciple of Ga 
 len, 1 exclaimed M. Leminof. " Each one according 
 to his temperament. We cannot reconstruct our 
 selves. I am a very violent, very passionate man, 
 and when, for example, a servant offends me, I throw 
 him headforemost down stairs. This happens to me 
 every day." 
 
 " Between your son and your valet de chambre, 
 the difference is great/ answered Gilbert a little 
 piqued. 
 
 " Did not your famous revolution proclaim abso 
 lute equality between all men ? " 
 
 " In the law it is admirable, but not in me heart 
 of a father." 
 
 " Good God ! " cried the Count, " I do not know 
 that I have a father s heart Jfor my son ; I know only 
 
Il8 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 that I think a great deal about him, and that I strive 
 according to my abilities to correct in him very grave 
 faults, which threaten to compromise his future wel 
 fare. I know also for a certainty that this whiner 
 enjoys some pleasures of which many children of his 
 age are deprived, as, for example, a servant for him 
 self, a horse, and as much money as he wants for his 
 petty diversions. You are not ignorant of the use 
 which he makes of this money, neither in regard to 
 the two thalers expended yesterday to corrupt my 
 valet, nor of the seven crowns with which he pur 
 chased the delightful pleasure, the other day in your 
 presence, of having his foot kissed by a troop of 
 young rustics. And at this point, I will tell you that 
 Ivan has reported to me that, on this same day, Ste- 
 phane turned up his sleeve to make you admire a 
 scar which he carried upon one of his wrists. Oblige 
 me by telling me what blue story he related to you on 
 this subject." 
 
 This unexpected question troubled Gilbert a little. 
 
 "To conceal nothing from you," answered he hes- 
 xtatingly, " he told me, that for an escapade which he 
 had made, he had been condemned to pass a fortnight 
 in a dungeon in irons." 
 
 " And you believed it ! " cried the Count, shrugging 
 his shoulders. " The truth is, that, for a fortnight, I 
 compelled my son to pass one hour every evening 
 in an uninhabited wing of this castle ; my intention 
 was not so much to punish him for an act of insub 
 ordination, as to cure him of the foolish terrors by 
 which he is tormented, for this boy of sixteen, who 
 often shows himself brave even to rashness, believes 
 in ghosts, in apparitions, in vampires. I ought to 
 authorize him to guard himself at night by the best 
 toothed of my bull - dogs. Oh ! what a strange 
 compound God has given me for a son ! " 
 
 At this moment the noise of steps was heard in 
 the corridor. 
 
 " In the name of the kind friendship which you 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 119 
 
 profess for me, sir," exclaimed Gilbert, seizing one 
 of M. Leminof s hands, "I beg of you, do not pun 
 ish this child for a boyish freak for which I forgive 
 him with all my heart ! " 
 
 " I can refuse you nothing, my dear Gilbert," an 
 swered he with a smiling air. " I spare him from his 
 pretended dungeons. I dare hope that you will give 
 me credit for it." 
 
 " I thank you ; but one thing more : the flowers 
 you deprived him of." 
 
 " Mon Dieul since you wish it, we will have 
 them restored to him, and to please you, I will con 
 tent myself with having him make his apologies to 
 you in due form." 
 
 " Make apologies to me ! " cried Gilbert in con 
 sternation ; " but that will be the most cruel of pun 
 ishments." 
 
 " We will leave him the choice," said the Count, 
 dryly. And as Gilbert insisted : " This time you ask 
 too much ! " added he in a tone which admitted of 
 no reply. It is a question of principles, and in such 
 matters I never compromise." 
 
 Gilbert perceived that even in Stephane s interest, 
 it was necessary to desist, but he understood also to 
 what extent the pride of the young man would suffer, 
 and cursed himself a thousand times for having spo 
 ken. 
 
 Some one knocked at the door. 
 
 " Come in," cried the Count in a hoarse voice] 
 and Stephane entered followed by Ivan. 
 
120 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 STEPHANE remained standing in the middle of 
 the room. He was paler than usual, and kept his 
 eyes on the floor ; but his bearing was good, and he 
 affected a resolute air which he rarely displayed in 
 the presence of his father. The Count remained si 
 lent for some time ; he gazed with a cold eye on the 
 supple and delicate body of his son, the exquisite el 
 egance of his form, his fine and delicate features, 
 framed in the slightly darkened gold of his hair. 
 Never had the beauty of his child filled the heart of 
 this father with keener bitterness. As for Gilbert, 
 he had eyes only for a little black spot which he no 
 ticed for the first time upon the uniformly pale com 
 plexion of Stephane : it was like an almost impercep 
 tible fly, under the left corner of his mouth. 
 
 " That is the mole," thought he, and he fancied 
 he could hear the voice of the somnambulist cry : 
 
 " Take away that mole ! it hurts me ! " 
 
 Shuddering at this recollection, he felt tempted 
 to rush from the room ; but a look from the Count 
 recalled him to himself; he made a strong effort to 
 master his emotion, and fixing his eyes upon the 
 window, he looked at the falling rain. 
 
 " As a preliminary question, " suddenly exclaim 
 ed the Count, speaking to his son ; " do me the fa 
 vor, sir, to tell me how much time you have passed in 
 what you call a dungeon, for I do not remember." 
 
 Stephane s face colored with a vivid blush. He 
 hesitated a moment and then answered : 
 
 " I was there in all fifteen hours, which appeared 
 to me as long as fifteen days." 
 
 " You see !" said the Count looking at Gilbert. 
 " And now," resumed he, " let us come to the point ; 
 a scene of the greatest impropriety occurred in this 
 house this morning. Fritz, my valet, in presenting 
 himself to my secretary, who is my friend, permitted 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 1 2 I 
 
 himself to say three times : Good morning, com 
 rade ; comrade, good morning ! 
 
 At these words Stephane s lips contracted slight 
 ly, as if about to smile ; but the smile was arrested on 
 its way. 
 
 " My little story amuses you, apparently," pur 
 sued the Count raising his head. 
 
 " It is the incredible folly of Fritz which diverts 
 me," answered Stephane. 
 
 " His folly seems to me less than his insolence," 
 replied the Count ; " but without discussing words, I 
 am delighted to see that you disavow his conduct. I 
 ought not to conceal from you the fact, that this 
 scoundrel wished to make me believe that he acted 
 upon your orders, and I was resolved to punish you 
 severely. I see now that he has lied, and it remains 
 for me but to dismiss him in disgrace. Gilbert trem 
 bled lest Stephane s veracity should succumb under 
 this temptation ; the young man hesitated but an 
 instant. 
 
 " I am the guilty one," answered he in a firm voice, 
 "and it is I who should be punished." 
 
 " What," said M. Leminof, " was it then my son, 
 who, availing himself of the only resources of his 
 mind conceived this truly happy idea. The inven 
 tion was admirable, it does honor to your genius. 
 But if Fritz has been but the instrument to carry out 
 your sublime conceptions, why do you laugh at his 
 stupidity ? " 
 
 " Oh, poor soul ! " replied Stephane with anima 
 tion, " oh ! the donkey, how he spoiled my idea ! I 
 didn t order him to call M. Savtlle his comrade, but 
 to treat him as a comrade, which is a different 
 thing. Unfortunately I had not time to give him min 
 ute instructions, and he misunderstood me, but he did 
 what he could conscientiously to earn his fee. The 
 poor fellow must be pardoned. I am the only guilty 
 one, I repeat it. I am the one to be punished." 
 
 " And might we know, sir," said the Count, " what 
 
122 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 your intention was in causing M. Saville to be insult 
 ed by a servant ? " 
 
 " I wished to humiliate him, to disgust him, and 
 to force him to leave this house." 
 
 " And your motive ? " 
 
 " My motive is that I hate him !" answered he in a 
 hoarse voice. 
 
 " Always exaggerations," replied the Count sneer- 
 ingly. " Can you not, sir, rid yourself of this detestable 
 habit of perpetual exaggeration in the expression of 
 your thoughts ? Can I not impress upon your mind 
 the maxims upon this subject which two men of 
 equal genius have given us ; M. de Metternichand 
 Pigault Lebrun ! The first of these illustrious men 
 used to say that superlatives were the seals of fools, 
 and the second wrote these immortal words : 
 
 " Everything exaggerated is insignificant. " 
 Then extending his arm : 
 
 " To hate ! to hate ! " exclaimed he, " you say the 
 word glibly. Do you know what it is ? Sorrow, an 
 ger, jealousy, antipathy, aversion, you may know all 
 these ; but hatred, hatred ! you have no right to say 
 this terrible word. Ah ! hatred is a rough work ! it is 
 ceaseless torture, it is a cross of lead to carry, and 
 to sustain its weight without breaking down requires 
 very different shoulders than yours ! " 
 
 At this moment Stephane ventured to look his 
 father in the face. He slowly uplifted his eyes, in 
 clining his head backward. His look signified " You 
 are right, I will take your word for it ; you are better 
 acquainted with it than I." 
 
 But the Count s face was so terrible that Stephane 
 closed his eyes and resumed his former attitude. A 
 slight shudder agitated his whole frame. The Count 
 perceived that he was near forgetting himself, and 
 drove back the bitter wave which came up from his 
 heart to his lips in spite of himself: 
 
 " Besides, my young friend here is the least de 
 testable being in the world," pursued he in a tran- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 12$ 
 
 quil tone. " Judge for yourself; just now he p.ead- 
 ed your cause to me with so much warmth, that he 
 drew from me a promise not to punish you for what 
 he has the kindness to call only a boy s freak. He 
 even stipulates that I shall restore you your flowers, 
 which he pretends give you delight, and within an 
 hour Ivan will have carried them to your room. In 
 short, two words of apology are all he requires of 
 you. You must admit that one could not have a 
 more accommodating disposition, and that you owe 
 him a thousand thanks." 
 
 " Apologies ! to him ! " cried Stephane with a ges 
 ture of horror. 
 
 " You hesitate ! oh ! this is too much ! Do you 
 then wish to revisit a certain rather gloomy hall? " 
 
 Stephane shuddered, his lips trembled. 
 
 " In mercy," cried he, " inflict any other punish 
 ment upon me you please, but not that one. Oh ! 
 no, I cannot go back to that frightful hall. Oh ! I 
 entreat you, deprive me of my customary walks for 
 six months ; sell Soliman, cut my hair, shave my 
 head, anything, yes anything rather than put my 
 feet in that horrible dungeon again ! I shall die there 
 or go mad. You don t want me to become insane ? " 
 
 " When one is unfortunate enough to believe in 
 ghosts and apparitions at the age of sixteen," retort 
 ed the Count, " he should free himself as soon as 
 possible from the ridiculous weakness." 
 
 Stephane s whole body trembled. He staggered 
 a few steps, and falling on his knees before his father, 
 clung to him and cried : " I am only a poor sick 
 child, have pity on me. You are still my father, are 
 you not ? and I am still your child ? Mon Dieu ! 
 Mon Dieu ! You do not, you cannot, want your 
 child to die ! " 
 
 " Put an end to this miserable comedy," cried the 
 Count, disengaging himself from Stephane s clasp. 
 "I am your father, and you are my son ; no one here 
 doubts it ; but your father, sir, has a horror of scenes. 
 
124 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 This has lasted too long; end it, I tell you. You are 
 already in a suitable posture. The most difficult 
 part is done, the rest is a trifle ! " 
 
 " What do you say, sir ? " answered the child im 
 petuously, trying to rise. " I am on my knees to you 
 only. Ah ! great God ! I to kneel before this man ! 
 it is impossible ! you know very well it is impossible ! " 
 
 The Count, however, pressing his hand upon his 
 shoulder, constrained him to remain upon his knees, 
 and turning his face to Gilbert : 
 
 " I tell you, you are kneeling before the man you 
 have insulted, and we all understand it." 
 
 Was it indeed thus that Gilbert understood it? 
 Quiet, impassible, his eyes fixed upon the window, he 
 seemed a perfect stranger to all that passed around 
 him. 
 
 A cry of anguish escaped Stephane, a frightful 
 change came over his face. Three times he tried to 
 rise, and three times the hand of his father weighed 
 him down again, and kept him in a kneeling posture. 
 Then, as if annihilated by the thought of his weakness 
 and powerlessness, he yielded, and covering his eyes 
 with both hands, he murmured these words in a sti 
 fled and convulsive voice : 
 
 " Sir, they do me violence, I ask pardon for hat 
 ing you." 
 
 And immediately his strength abandoned him, 
 and he fainted ; as a lily broken by the storm, his 
 head sank, and he would have fallen backward, if his 
 father had not signed to Ivan, who raised him like a 
 feather in his robust arms, and carried him hastily 
 out of the room. 
 
 Gilbert s first care after returning to his turret, 
 was to light a candle and burn Stephane s letter. 
 Then he opened a closet and began to prepare his 
 trunk. While engaged in this task, some one knocked 
 at the door. He had only time to close the closet 
 and the trunk when Ivan appeared with a basket on 
 his arm. The serf came for the flowers, which he 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 12$ 
 
 had orders to carry to the apartment of his young 
 master. Having placed five or six in his basket, he 
 turned to Gilbert and gave him to understand, in his 
 teutonic gibberish mingled with french, that he had 
 something important to communicate to him. Gil 
 bert answered in a tone of ill humor, that he had not 
 time to listen to him. Ivan shook his head with a 
 pensive air, and left. Gilbert immediately seated 
 himself at the table, and upon the first scrap of paper 
 which came under his hand, hastily wrote the follow 
 ing lines : 
 
 " Poor child, do not distress yourself too much 
 for the humiliation to which you have just submitted. 
 As you said yourself, you yielded only to violence, and 
 your apologies are void in my eyes. Believe me, I 
 exact nothing. Why did I not divine this morning 
 that Fritz spoke in your name ! I should not have 
 felt offended, for it is not to me that your insults are 
 addressed, it is to some strange Gilbert of your im 
 agination. I am not acquainted with him. But what 
 can it avail you to provoke contests, the result of 
 which is certain in advance. It is a hand of iron 
 which lately weighed upon your shoulder. Do 
 you hope then to free yourself so soon from its 
 grasp. Believe me, submit yourself to your lot, and 
 mitigate its rigors by patience, until the day when 
 your eyes have become strong enough to dare to 
 look him in the face, and your hand manly enough 
 to throw the gage of battle. Poor child ! the only 
 consolation I can offer you in your misfortune, I 
 should be a culprit to refuse. I have but one night 
 more to pass here ; keep this secret for me for twenty- 
 four hours, and receive the adieus of that Gilbert 
 whom you have never known. One day he passed 
 near you and looked at you, and you read an offensive 
 curiosity in his eyes. I swear to you, they were full 
 of tears." 
 
 Gilbert folded this letter, and slid it under the 
 facing of one of his sleeves \ then taking the key of 
 
1 26 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 the private door in his hand, and posting himself at 
 the head of the staircase, he waited Ivan s return. 
 As soon as he heard the sound of his steps in the 
 corridor, he descended rapidly and met him on the 
 landing at the gallery. 
 
 " I clo not know what to do," said Ivan to him. 
 " My young master is not himself, and he has broken 
 the first flower-pots I carried to him in a thousand 
 pieces." 
 
 Take the others too," replied Gilbert, taking 
 care to let him see the key which he flourished in his 
 hand. " You can put them in your room for the 
 time being. When he becomes calmer he will be glad 
 to see them again." 
 
 " But will it not be better to leave them with you 
 until he asks for them ? " 
 
 " I don t want to keep them half an hour longer," 
 replied Gilbert quickly, and he descended the first 
 steps of the private staircase. 
 
 " As you are going on the terrace, sir," cried the 
 serf to him, " don t forget, I beg of you, to close the 
 door behind you." 
 
 Gilbert promised this. " It works well," thought 
 he ; " his caution proves to me that the wicket is not 
 closed." He was not mistaken. For the convenience 
 of his transportation, the serf had left it half open, 
 only taking the precaution to close and double lock 
 the door of the grand staircase. Gilbert waited until 
 Ivan had reached the secpnd story, and immediately 
 remounting upon tiptoe, he darted into the corridor, 
 followed its entire length, turned to the right, passed 
 before the Count s study, turned a second time to the 
 right, found himself in the gallery which led to the 
 square tower, sprang through the wicket, and arrived 
 without obstacle at the foot of the tower staircase. 
 He found the steps littered with the debris of broken 
 pots and flowers. As he began to descend, loud 
 voices came to his ears ; he thought for a moment 
 that M. Leminof was with his son. This did not 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 127 
 
 turn him from his project. He had nothing to con 
 ceal. " I will beg the Count himself," thought he, 
 "to read my farewell letter to his son." Having 
 reached the top of the staircase, he crossed a vesti 
 bule and found himself in a long, dark alcove, lighted 
 by a solitary glass door, opening into the great room 
 ordinarily occupied by Stephane. This door was 
 ajar, and the strange scene which presented itself to 
 Gilbert, as he approached, held him motionless a few 
 steps from the threshold. Stephane, with his back 
 towards him, stood with his arms crossed upon his 
 breast. He was not speaking to his father, but to 
 two pictures of saints hanging from the wall above a 
 lighted taper. These two paintings on wood, in the 
 style of father Alexis, represented St. George and St. 
 Sergius. The child, looking at them with burning 
 eyes, apostrophized them in a voice trembling with 
 anger, at intervals stamping his foot and running his 
 hands furiously through his long hair and tossing it 
 in wild disorder. Illustrious Saints of the Eastern 
 Church, heard you ever such language before ? 
 
 " Ah ! you know," said he to them, " that I have 
 always loved, cherished, nourished, venerated and 
 adored you. Morning and evening I implored you ; 
 extended supplicating arms towards you. The light 
 which burns at your feet has never gone out. I have 
 filled it with perfumed oil, with my own hands. Often 
 have I risen in the night to reanimate the dying 
 flame. I was foolish enough to believe in you, and I 
 cried to you from the depths of my misery : Oh ! 
 patron saint, protect a poor child who has nobody but 
 you to defend and love him ! Wait a little while long 
 er, you would say, * we will visit thee in thy desolation, 
 we will keep watch over thee, thou shalt see the 
 brightness of our swords shine over thy head. We 
 will say to these walls : Fall ! and at the first move 
 ment of our lips, they will sink down appalled. And 
 now, hypocrites, what have you done for me ? 
 Where are your works? where are the indications 
 
128 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 of your pity ? Where are the evidences of your 
 tenderness ? Ah ! Saint George, where were you 
 then, you great slayer of dragons, when I but just 
 now tremblingly invoked your aid? You know too, 
 I did not ask you to cover me with your sword, to 
 draw me out of the lions den, or preserve me from 
 the fiery furnace. I said to you : Only enable me to 
 go hence with head erect and honor intact. . . . Why 
 hast thou not heard me, St. George ? Was it a mir 
 acle beyond thy strength, to infuse into my blood a 
 little calm and courage ? But what am I saying ? 
 Thou didst hasten to my call, but it was to fight 
 against me ! Yes, in the moment of supreme anguish, 
 when prostrate and vainly begging to rise, I felt that 
 thou didst bend down my knees thyself, that thy hand 
 forced my head down to the ground, and that thou 
 didst make me drink the cup of shame and ignominy 
 to the very dregs. Ah ! this shame ! it is yours ! 
 drink it ! I throw it back into your faces ! Listen to 
 me, perfidious and lying saints, I curse you a hun 
 dred, a thousand times ! I curse you because your 
 hearts are made of stone ! I curse you because vou 
 are vain, insolent impostors, who beg for the homage 
 of men, and then repel the little ones who prostrate 
 themselves before you ! I curse you because you are 
 like sycophantic and begging dogs, who go from dooi 
 to door, asking to be tickled and scratched, and then 
 bite the hands that feed and caress them. Inexora 
 ble saints, in the great ocean of heavenly pity you 
 could not find one drop of dew to moisten the fore 
 head of a dying child ! " 
 
 At these words he sprang on a chair, tore the two 
 pictures from the wall, threw them to the ground, and 
 seizing his riding whip, switched them furiously. In 
 this affair, St. George lost half of his head and one 
 of his legs, and St. Sergius was disfigured for the 
 rest of his days. When he had satisfied his fury, 
 Stephane hung them up again on their nails, turning 
 their faces to the wall, and blew out the lamp ; then 
 
CO UNT KOSTIA. 1 2 9 
 
 he rolled upon the floor, twisting his arms and tear 
 ing his hair but suddenly sitting up he drew from 
 his bosom a small heart-shaped medalion which he 
 gazed on fixedly, and as he looked the tears began to 
 roll down his cheeks, and in the midst of his sobs, he 
 cried out : 
 
 " O my mother ! I desire nothing from you ! you 
 could do nothing for me ; but why did I have time to 
 know you ? To remember ! to remember what tor 
 ment ! Yes, I can see you now Every morn 
 ing you gave me a kiss, high up my forehead at 
 the roots of my hair. The mark is there yet some 
 times it burns me. I have often looked in the glass 
 
 to see if I had not a scar there O, my mother ! 
 
 come and heal my wound by renewing it ! To be 
 kissed by one s mother, Great God ! what happiness ! 
 Oh ! for a kiss, for a single kiss from you, I would 
 brave a. thousand dangers, I would give my blood, my 
 life, my soul. Ah ! how sad you look ! there are 
 tears in your eyes. You recognize me, do you not ? 
 I am much changed, much changed ; but I have al 
 ways your look, your forehead, your mouth, your hair. 
 How I love your dress ! I should like to touch it. It 
 is the very same, of which a single fold covered my 
 whole body when I ran to you in my plays for refuge. 
 I crouched at your feet, leaned my head on your knees, 
 and you drew the skirt of your silk dress over me 
 and it hid me from sight ; and you said to those 
 looking for me, The little pigeon is not here, I don t 
 know what has become of him. Ah ! in mercy, tell 
 them still, I am not there. Tell them in such a way 
 as to make them believe you. I don t want to see 
 or hear them. O, mother ! mother! Can you not 
 give me wings to fly to you ? Or at least, I beg 
 you, show me the way to your tomb. A mother s 
 ashes will grow warm even after six years, if her 
 child goes to lie there, won t they ? I will lie there 
 near you very still, and you will tell them in your 
 sweet voice when they come to look for me : The 
 9 
 
130 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 little pigeon is not here ; I don t know what has be 
 come of him. " 
 
 Then starting up suddenly, Stephane walked 
 around the room with an unsteady step. He held 
 the medallion closely grasped in his right hand and 
 kept his eyes upon it. Again he held it out at arm s 
 length and looked at it steadily with half closed eyes, 
 or drawing it nearer to him, he said to it sweet and 
 tender things, pressing it to his lips, kissing it a thous 
 and times and passing it over his hair and his cheeks 
 wet with tears ; it seemed as though he were trying to 
 make some particle of this sacred image penetrate his 
 life and being. At last, placing it on the bed, he knelt 
 before it, and burying his face in his hands, cried out 
 sobbing " Mother, mother, it is long since your daugh 
 ter died. When will you call your son to you ? " 
 
 Gilbert retired in silence. A voice from this room 
 said to him : " Thou art out of place here. Take 
 care not to meddle in the secret communion of a son 
 and his mother. Great sorrows have something sa 
 cred about them. Even pity profanes them by its 
 presence." He descended the staircase with precau 
 tion. When he had reached the last step, extend 
 ing his arm in the direction of the Count s room he 
 muttered in a low tone : " You have lied ! Under 
 that tunic of black velvet there is a beating heart ! " 
 Then advancing with a rapid step through the corri 
 dor, he hoped to pass out unseen ; but on reaching 
 the wicket, he found himself face to face with Ivan, 
 who was coming out of his room, and who in his sur 
 prise dropped the basket he held in his hand. 
 
 " You here ! " exclaimed he in a severe tone. "An 
 other would have paid dearly for this " 
 
 Then in a soft voice, expressing profound melan 
 choly. 
 
 " Brother," said he, " do you want both of us 
 to be killed ? I see you do not know the man whose 
 orders you dare to brave." And he added, bowing 
 humbly : " You will pardon me for calling you 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 13! 
 
 brother ? In my mouth, that does not mean com 
 rade. " 
 
 Gilbert gave a sign of assent, and started to leave, 
 but the serf, holding him by the arm, said : 
 
 " Fortunately the barine has gone out ; but take 
 care ; two days since he had one of his turns, he has 
 one every year, and while they last, his mind wanders 
 at night, and his anger is terrible during the day. I 
 tell you there is a storm in the air, do not draw the 
 thunderbolt upon your head." 
 
 Then placing himself between Gilbert and the 
 door, he added with a grave air : 
 
 " Upon your conscience, what have you been do 
 ing here ? Have you seen my young father ? Has 
 he been talking to himself? You could understand 
 what he said, for he always talks in French. He 
 only knows enough Russian to scold me. Tell me, 
 what have you heard ? I must know." 
 
 " Don t be alarmed," answered Gilbert. " If he 
 has secrets he has not betrayed them. He was en 
 gaged in complaining to himself, in scolding the 
 saints and weeping. Neither must you think that I 
 came hither to spy upon him, or to question him. As 
 he had met with sorrow, I wanted to console him by 
 imparting the agreeable news of my near departure ; 
 but I had not the courage to show myself to him, 
 and besides, I am not quite certain now what I shall 
 do." 
 
 " Yes, you will do well to go," eagerly answered 
 the serf; but go secretly, without warning any one. I 
 will help you, if you wish it. You are too inquisitive 
 to remain here. Certain suspicions have already 
 been excited on your account, which I have combat- 
 ted. Then, too, you are imprudent ! " Thus saying, 
 he drew from his pocket the candle which Gilbert 
 had dropped in the corridor, the preceding night. 
 
 " Fortunately," said he, returning it to him, " it 
 was I who found it, and picked it up, and I wish you 
 well, you know why. But before going from here," 
 
132 CO UNT KOSTIA. 
 
 added he in a solemn tone, "swear to me, that during 
 the time you may yet remain in this house, you will 
 not try to come into this gallery again, and that you 
 will not ramble in the other any more in the night. 
 I tell you your life is in danger if you do." 
 
 Gilbert answered him by a gesture of assent, and 
 passing the wicket, regained his room, where alter 
 nately standing at the window, or stretched upon an 
 easy chair, he passed two full hours communing with 
 his thoughts. The dinner-bell put an end to these 
 long meditations. There was but little conversation 
 during the repast. M. Leminof was grave and 
 gloomy, and seemed to be laboring under a great 
 nervous excitement which he strove to conceal. 
 Stephane was calmer than would have been expected 
 after the violent emotions he had experienced, but 
 there was something singular in his look. Father 
 Alexis alone wore his everyday face ; he found it 
 very good, and did not judge it expedient to change 
 it. Towards the end of the repast, Gilbert was sur 
 prised to see Stephane, who was in the habit of 
 drinking only wine and water, fill his glass with Mar 
 sala three times, and swallow it almost at a single 
 draught. The young man was not long in feeling the 
 effect of it; his face flushed, and his gaze be 
 came vacant. Towards the close of the meal, he 
 looked a great deal at the Apocalyptic frescoes of the 
 vaulted ceiling: then turning suddenly to his father, 
 he ventured to address him a question. It was the 
 first time for nearly two years, an event which made 
 even father Alexis open his eyes. 
 
 " Is it true," asked Stephane, " that living persons, 
 supposed to be dead, have sometimes been buried ? " 
 
 " Yes, it has sometimes happened," replied the 
 Count. 
 
 " But is there no way of establishing the certainty 
 of death ? " 
 
 " Some say yes, others no. I have been told of 
 a frozen man who was dissected in a hospital. The 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 133 
 
 operator, in opening him, saw his heart beating in 
 his breast : he took flight and is running yet." 
 
 " But when one dies a violent death poisoned 
 for example ? " 
 
 " My opinion is, that they can still be mistaken. 
 Physiology is a great mystery." 
 
 " Oh ! that would be horrible," said Stephane in 
 a penetrating voice, " to awaken by bruising one s 
 forehead against the cover of a coffin." 
 
 " It would certainly be a very disagreeable expe 
 rience," answered the Count. And the conversation 
 dropped. Stephane appeared very much affected by 
 his father s answers. He gazed no more at the ceil 
 ing, but fixed his eyes on his plate. His face changed 
 color several times, and as if feeling the need of stu 
 pefying himself, he filled his glass with wine for the 
 fourth time, but he could not empty it, and had hard 
 ly touched it with his lips before he set it on the ta 
 ble with an air of disgust. 
 
 Tea was brought in. M. Leminof served it ; and 
 leaving his cup to cool, rose and walked the floor. 
 After making two or three turns, he called Gilbert, 
 and leaning upon his arm continued his walk, talking 
 with him about the political news of the day. Stephane 
 saw them come and go ; he was evidently deeply agi 
 tated. Suddenly, at the moment when they turned 
 their backs, he drew from his sleeve a small packet, 
 which contained a pinch of yellow powder, and un 
 folding it quickly, held it over his still full cup ; but 
 as he was about emptying it, his hand trembled, and 
 at this moment, his father and Gilbert returning to 
 his side, he had only time to conceal the paper in 
 his hand. In an instant he raised it again ; but at 
 the decisive moment his courage again failed him. 
 It was not until the third trial that the yellow pow 
 der glided into the cup, where Stephane stirred it 
 with his spoon. This little scene had escaped Gil 
 bert. The Count alone had lost nothing of it ; he had 
 eyes at the back of his head. He reseated him- 
 
134 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 self in his place and drank his tea slowly, continu 
 ing to talk with Gilbert, and apparently quite un 
 conscious of his son \ but not a movement escap 
 ed him. Stephane looked at his cup steadily, 
 his agitation increased, he breathed heavily, he 
 shuddered, and his hand trembled with feverish ex 
 citement. After waiting several minutes, the Count 
 turned to him and, looking him full in the eyes, 
 said: 
 
 " Well ! you do not drink ? Cold tea is a bad 
 drug." 
 
 The child trembled still more ; his eyes had a 
 glassy brightness. Turning his head slowly, they 
 wandered over everything about him, the table, the 
 chairs, the plate and the black oak wainscotting. 
 There are moments when the aspect of the most com 
 mon objects stirs the soul with solemn emotion. 
 When the condemned man is led out to die, the least 
 straw on the floor of his cell seems to say something 
 to his heart. Finally, gathering all his courage, Ste 
 phane raised the cup and carried it to his mouth ; 
 but before it had touched his lips, the Count took it 
 roughly from his hands. Stephane uttered a pierc 
 ing cry and fell back in his chair with closed eyes. 
 M. Leminof looked at him for a moment with a sar 
 castic and scornful smile ; then bending over the cup 
 he examined it with care, smelt of it, and dipping his 
 spoon in it, drew out two or three yellow grains which 
 he rubbed and pulverized between his fingers. Then 
 in a tone as tranquil and as indifferent as if speak 
 ing of the rain, or of the fine weather, he said : 
 
 " It is phosphorus, a sufficiently active poison, 
 and phosphorus matches have been the death of a 
 man more than once. But I saw your little paper 
 some time before. If I am not mistaken the dose was 
 not strong enough." And dipping his finger in the 
 cup, he passed it over his tongue, and curled his lip 
 disdainfully. " I was not mistaken," continued he, 
 " it would only have given you a violent colic. It 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 135 
 
 was very imprudent in you ; you do not like to 
 suffer, and you know we have only fresh-water physi 
 cians in this neighborhood. Why didn t you wait a 
 few hours ? Doctor Vladimir Paulitch will be here 
 to-morrow evening." And then he went on in a 
 more phlegmatic tone : " It should be a first princi 
 ple to do thoroughly whatever you undertake to do 
 at all. Thus, when a man wants to kill himself ac 
 cording to rule, he should not begin by exciting sus 
 picions in talking of the cemetery. And as these af 
 fairs require the exercise of coolness, he should not 
 try to get intoxicated. The courage which a person 
 finds at the bottom of a glass of Marsala is not of a 
 good quality, and the approach of death always so 
 bers one. Finally,when a man has seriously resolved to 
 kill himself, he does not do this little thing at the ta 
 ble, in company, but in his room, after having care 
 fully bolted the door. In short, your little scene has 
 failed in every point, and you do not know the first 
 rudiments of this fine art. I advise you not to med 
 dle with it any more." 
 
 At these words he pulled the bell for Ivan. 
 
 " Your young master wanted to kill himself," said 
 he ; take him to his room and prepare him a compos- 
 lag draught that will put him to sleep. Watch with him 
 to-night, and in future be careful not to leave any 
 phosphorus matches in his rooms. Not that I suspect 
 him of entertaining any intense desire of killing him 
 self, but who knows ? Wounded vanity might drive 
 him to try it. As his nerves are excited, you will 
 see that for some days he takes a great deal of exer 
 cise. If the weather is fine to-morrow, keep him in 
 the open air all day, and in the evening walk him on 
 the terrace ; he must get his blood stirred up." 
 
 From the moment that his father had taken the 
 poisoned cup from him, Stephane had remained pet 
 rified on his chair, with livid face and arms hanging 
 over his knees, giving no sign of life. When Ivan 
 approached to take him away, he rose with a start, 
 
136 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 and leaning upon the arm of the serf, he crossed the 
 room without opening his eyes. When he had gone, 
 the Count heaved a long sigh of weariness and de 
 jection. 
 
 " What did I tell you ? " exclaimed he, throwing 
 upon Gilbert a scrutinizing look; "this boy has a 
 theatrical turn of mind. I would wager my life that 
 he hadn t the faintest desire to kill himself: he only 
 aimed at exciting us ; but certainly if it was the sensi 
 tive heart of father Alexis which he took for a target, 
 he has lost his trouble." And he directed Gilbert s 
 attention to the worthy priest, who, as soon as he had 
 emptied his cup, had fallen sound asleep on his 
 stool, and smiled at the angels in his dreams. Gil 
 bert gave the Count a lively and agreeable surprise 
 by answering him in the steadiest tone : 
 
 " You are entirely right, sir ; it was only a very 
 ridiculous affectation. Fortunately, we may consider 
 it pretty certain that our young tragedian will not re 
 gale us a second time with his little play. Where 
 courage is required, it is good to have an opportuni 
 ty of seeing to the bottom of one s sack; nothing is 
 more likely to cure a boaster of the foolish mania for 
 blustering." 
 
 " Decidedly my secretary is improving," thought 
 the Count ; " he has a tender mouth and feels the 
 curb." And in the joy which this discovery gave 
 him, he felt that he entertained for him sentiments of 
 real friendship, of which he would not have believed 
 himself capable. His surprise and pleasure increased 
 .still more when Gilbert resumed: 
 
 " But apropos, sir, do you persist in believing 
 that, according to Constantius Porphyrogennatus, all 
 Greece became Sclavonian in the eighteenth century ? 
 I have new objections to present to you on that sub 
 ject. And first this famous Copronymus of whom 
 he speaks. . . ." 
 
 They did not rise from the table until eleven 
 o clock. It was necessary to awaken father Alexis, 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 137 
 
 who slept during the whole time, his right arm ex 
 tended over his plate, and his head leaning upon his 
 elbow. The Count having shaken him, he rose with 
 a start and exclaimed : 
 
 " Don t touch it ! The colors are all fresh ; 
 Jacob s beard is such a fine gray ! " 
 
 " Your eternal patriarchs again ! " said the Count, 
 assuming a severe expression. " You would have 
 done better to take some interest in the deplorable 
 scene which has just taken place here." 
 
 "A scene has just taken place ?" answered the 
 priest, opening his eyes. 
 
 " What, are you asleep yet, father ? I refer to the 
 cup of poisoned tea." 
 
 "Holy Virgin! the tea was poisoned! But I 
 drank some of it, I drank a great deal of it ! " And 
 he felt of his body, as if to assure himself that he 
 was still alive. 
 
 " This is too much," said the Count, affecting to lose 
 patience. " Let us see, are your ideas clearing up ? 
 Ah ! there you are at last. Well, know, sir, that I 
 hold you responsible for what has just passed, for, 
 after all, of what service have your pastoral instruc 
 tions been to this child ? " 
 
 " Ah ! great God ! has he tried to poison you ? " 
 cried father Alexis with a gesture of horror. 
 
 " Pshaw ! your supposition lacks common sense. 
 Yet what surprises me is, that you should take such 
 an event so coolly. Is such a sin so venial in your 
 eyes ? My father, these affairs are within your juris 
 diction ; think of it, and weigh carefully the most 
 trivial details. I expect from you counsel and reme 
 dies. One thing more : never speak to him of this 
 painful affair. You understand me ; in your conver 
 sations with him avoid any expression which could 
 contain the slightest allusion to what has just hap 
 pened." 
 
 Upon this he turned on his heel, and the good 
 father went his way, moving his head with a pensive 
 
138 CO UNT KOSTIA. 
 
 air. He was equally embarrassed in having to give 
 counsel upon a matter of which he was entirely igno 
 rant, and in the fear of some day unwittingly alluding 
 to a secret which he knew nothing about. 
 
 Before leaving M. Leminof, Gilbert desired to 
 hear some news of Stephane. The Count went him 
 self to inquire, and brought Ivan back with him, and 
 Gilbert learned from the lips of the serf that the 
 young man had taken his potion and was tranquilly 
 sleeping. 
 
 The compliant secretary retired humming an aria. 
 M. Leminof followed him with his eyes, and, pointing 
 after him, said to his serf in a confidential tone : 
 
 "Thou seest that man there ; just fancy! I feel 
 friendship for him. He is at least my most cher 
 ished habit. My suspicions were absurd, thou wert 
 right in combatting them. By way of precaution, 
 however, make a tour of the corridor between mid 
 night and two o clock. Now come and double lock 
 me in my room, for I feel a paroxysm coming on. 
 To-morrow at five o clock thou wilt come to open it 
 for me." 
 
 " Count Kostia ! " murmured Gilbert when he 
 found himself in his room, " fear no longer that I 
 shall think of leaving you. Whatever happens, I re 
 main here. Count Kostia, understand me, you have 
 buried the smile : I take heaven to witness that I will 
 resuscitate it." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE day following the one on which Gilbert had 
 resolved to remain at Geierfels, father Alexis rose at 
 an early hour and betook himself as usual to his 
 dear chapel ; he entered with a slow step, bowed 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 139 
 
 back, and anxious face ; but when he had traversed 
 the nave and stood before the main entrance to the 
 choir, the influence of the holy place began to dissi 
 pate his melancholy ; his thoughts took a more serene 
 turn, and his face brightened. The chapel, which 
 formed part of a little detached building separated 
 from the main one by a court, received the light at 
 sunrise through three great arched windows opening 
 upon a gallery with a colonnade. During the night 
 the weather had cleared, and at this moment a ray of 
 sunlight from one of the casements fell upon the 
 face of one of the evangelists which decorated the 
 choir ; this mark of favor with which heaven honored 
 one of his masterpieces gratified the paternal pride of 
 the good priest. As soon as he had said his mass and 
 laid aside his albe of figured silk, he took off his 
 black robe and put on an ugly cassock covered with 
 stains of grease and paint ; this was his artist s cos 
 tume. Then having turned up his sleeves, he sol 
 emnly mounted a little ladder which led to a scaffold 
 ing fixed against the wall,, and encumbered with 
 pieces of straw and pots filled with oil, varnish, di 
 luted plaster and isinglass. 
 
 For several days father Alexis had been occu 
 pied in painting a group of three figures, Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob, with their posterity on their knees. 
 It was the exact copy of a picture in the Convent of 
 Lavra. These patriarchs were gravely seated upon a 
 grassy bank, separated from each other by little 
 shrubs of a somewhat fantastic shape. Their vener 
 able heads were crowned with aureoles ; their abun 
 dant hair, combed with the greatest care, fell majes 
 tically upon their shoulders, and their thick beards 
 descended to the middle of their breasts. Draped 
 in great mantles with rigid and symmetrical folds, each 
 held in his outstretched arms a white linen cloth con 
 taining the heads of eight children ranged in line, 
 an insufficient symbol, perhaps, of that posterity as 
 numerous as the stars of heaven, the promise of 
 
140 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 which flattered their pride. These heroes of the old 
 covenant had the faces of monks, long, emaciated, 
 and austere ; but in the sadness which they expressed 
 there was nothing dreamy or ecstatic. They seemed 
 to be occupied with some petty calculation, and one 
 could fancy them saying : " Behold the many years 
 that we have fasted and risen at night to sing matins ; 
 these are considerable advances." And they were 
 calculating the reimbursements which would be made 
 to them some day, and were preparing an exact debit 
 and credit account. 
 
 Father Alexis worked for nearly an hour, when 
 he heard a step in the court, and turning his head 
 quickly, perceived Gilbert coming towards the chapel. 
 The priest thrilled with joy, as a fisherman might, 
 who after long hours of mortal waiting, sees a fish of 
 good size imprudently approaching his net. Eager 
 for his prey, he threw aside his brush, quickly de 
 scended the ladder with the agility of a young man, 
 and ran to place himself in ambuscade near the door, 
 where he waited with bated breath. As soon as Gil 
 bert appeared, he rushed upon him, seized him by 
 the arm and looked upon him with eyes which seem 
 ed to say : " You are caught, and you won t escape 
 from me either." 
 
 When he had recovered from his first excess of 
 joy, " Ah my son," exclaimed he, " what happy in 
 spiration brings you hither ? " 
 
 " M. Leminof is not well to-day," answered Gil 
 bert, " and I thought I could make no better use of 
 my leisure than to pay my respects to you." 
 
 " Oh ! what a charming idea," said the priest, 
 looking at him with ineffable tenderness. " Come, 
 come, my son, I will show you all, yes all." 
 
 This word all was pronounced with such an ener 
 getic accent, that Gilbert was startled. It may be read 
 ily believed that it was not exactly about Byzantine 
 pictures that he was curious at this moment. Never 
 theless, he entered with great good-nature into a 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 141 
 
 minute examination of the images of the choir and 
 the nave ; he praised all which appeared praiseworthy, 
 kept silent upon the prominent defects which offend 
 ed the delicacy of his taste, and allowed himself to 
 criticize only some of the details ; above all, he lis 
 tened with such concentrated attention to the explan 
 ations which the priest heaped upon him, that the 
 former, in a very short time, had conceived the live 
 liest affection for him, and testified it by his looks, 
 his smiles, and by little caresses quite paternal in 
 their tenderness. 
 
 " My son, I have reserved my three patriarchs 
 for the climax ! " finally said the good father. " We 
 will see what you say to them." Then conducting 
 him to the foot of the ladder, he exclaimed: " Mount 
 with your eyes closed, you can open them when you 
 reach the top. Close your eyes, close them well ; you 
 will run no risk of falling. I will go up behind you." 
 
 Gilbert complied with his request. I would not 
 swear that on re-opening his eyes he experienced that 
 dizziness upon which father Alexis had counted ; 
 but he smiled with an air of satisfaction. Standing 
 by his side, the priest devoured him with his eyes and 
 murmured between his teeth : 
 
 " Although I told you this was reserved for the 
 climax, my dear child," resumed he, after giving him 
 time to recover himself, " don t be afraid of offending 
 me, but tell me frankly which of these three figures 
 you admire most ? " It will be noticed that father 
 Alexis possessed the difficult art of putting ques 
 tions well. 
 
 " To be frank with you," replied the indulgent 
 Gilbert, " my preference is for Abraham. He has 
 a certain air of majesty." 
 
 " Peste ! you have fine taste ! " cried the priest 
 pinching his arm affectionately. "Yes ; this Abraham 
 is the finest jewel in my crown. However, I do not 
 wish to have your admiration for the grandfather 
 render you unjust towards the son and the grandson. 
 
142 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Look at Isaac attentively. Do you not find that 
 he has a something, I hardly know what, in *his 
 face ? " 
 
 " You are right. Well then ! father, to treat every 
 body with consideration, we may say that the head 
 of Abraham is more majestic, and that of Isaac more 
 expressive." 
 
 " Eh ! eh ! my son, you are a consummate judge 
 in such matters, you have an eye for the beautiful 
 but Jacob ? I think really that Jacob" 
 
 " His beard is certainly a superb gray." 
 
 " How well you talk ! Agreeable words are like 
 the honey comb, is written in the Proverbs. Yes, that 
 beard is fine ! But you say nothing about those 
 pretty shrubs ! " 
 
 " Oh ! they are only accessories." 
 
 " Speak not lightly of accessories," said the priest 
 in a reproachful tone ; " they are more important 
 than you think. What is, for instance, a dinner, if 
 you please, without side dishes ? and what again is 
 the finest narrative in the world without details ? 
 Happiness itself (worldly happiness of course, you 
 understand) has neither pungency nor flavor, if it is 
 not seasoned with small pleasures. You are still 
 young, my son, and you despise little things. When 
 you are older you will acknowledge the importance 
 of accessories, and find that to live well, you 
 must give a position to sauces. But look at 
 this grass, please ; see how fresh, how velvety it is 
 Holy Virgin ! you do not deign to look at it. You 
 have eyes for nothing but Abraham. You are cer 
 tainly taken with Abraham. It is a weakness which 
 I pardon you. Stop, examine a little more closely 
 this fold of his mantle, there, above the knee." Gil 
 bert shuddered in seeing the conversation work like a 
 shuttle from Abraham to the sward, and from the 
 sward to Abraham a magic circle in which he ran 
 the risk of being confined until evening. The 
 danger was imminent; he hastened to avoid it by an- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 143 
 
 nouncing to the priest that he wished to talk with him 
 of a serious matter. 
 
 " A serious matter ? " 
 
 And the face of the good father became grave. 
 
 " Have you anything to confess to me ? What 
 am I saying? you are not orthodox my child, would 
 to God you were." Then striking his forehead : 
 
 " Now that reminds me that there are certain ex 
 planations which I should be very glad of. Let us 
 quit this scaffolding for fear of distraction ; but don t 
 bid farewell to my patriarchs, you have not seen all 
 for example " 
 
 " Let us descend, let us descend," said Gilbert, 
 putting his foot upon the ladder. 
 
 They descended and seated themselves upon the 
 end of a white marble step, which extended the en 
 tire width of the nave, at the entrance of the choir. 
 
 " My son," began the priest timidly, " yesterday 
 evening " 
 
 " That is precisely what I want to talk to you 
 about," said Gilbert. 
 
 " Ah ! you are a good, generous child. You saw 
 my embarrassment, and you wished, I confess it, a 
 slight drowsiness, flesh is weak, ah, it is good in 
 you. Favors do not turn your head. Speak, speak, 
 I am all attention." 
 
 " It is understood that you will keep the secret, 
 father, for you know " 
 
 " I understand ! we should be lost if it were 
 known that we talked of certain things together. 
 Oh ! you need not be afraid. If Kostia Petrovitch 
 alludes to this matter, I shall appear to know noth 
 ing, and I shall accuse myself of having violated the 
 precept of the great Solomon, who said, " When 
 thou sittest down to eat with a prince, consider at 
 tentively what is done before thee." 
 
 " Speak with confidence, my child, and rest as 
 sured that this mouth has an old tongue in it which 
 never says what it does not want to." 
 
144 CO 17 ATT KOSTIA. 
 
 When Gilbert had finished his recital, father 
 Alexis burst forth in exclamations accompanied by 
 many signs of the cross. 
 
 " Oh ! unhappy child ! " cried he ; " what folly is 
 thine ! He has then sworn his own destruction ? To 
 wish to die in mortal sin ! A spirit of darkness must 
 have taken possession of him. Then he invokes St. 
 George no longer every morning and evening ? He 
 prays no more, he no longer carries on his heart the 
 holy amulet I gave him. Ah ! why did I fall asleep 
 yesterday evening ? What beautiful things I would 
 have said to him ! I would have commenced by rep 
 resenting to him " 
 
 " I do not doubt your eloquence ; but it is not re 
 monstrance, nor good counsel that this child wants : 
 a little happiness would answer the purpose far bet 
 ter." 
 
 " Happiness ! Ah ! yes, his life is a little sad. 
 There are certain maxims of education " 
 
 " It is not a question of maxims of education, but 
 of a father who betrays an open hatred to his son." 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! " exclaimed the priest with a ges 
 ture of terror, "you must not say such things, my 
 child. These are words which the good God does 
 not like to hear. Never repeat them, it would be 
 neither prudent nor charitable." 
 
 Gilbert persisted ; announcing the conjectures 
 which he had formed as certainties, and even exag 
 gerating his suspicions in the hope that the priest, in 
 correcting him, would furnish the explanations which 
 he desired. The success of this little artifice sur 
 passed his expectation. 
 
 " I know for a certainty," said he, " that M. Lem- 
 inof loved his wife, that she was unfaithful to him, 
 that he finished by suspecting her, and that he re 
 venged himself 
 
 " False ! false ! " cried the priest with deep emo 
 tion. " To hear you one would believe that Count 
 Kostia killed his wife. You have heard lying re- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 145 
 
 ports. The truth is that the Countess Olga poisoned 
 herself, and then feeling the approach of death, be 
 came terrified and implored aid. It was useless : they 
 could not counteract the effects of the poison. She 
 then sent in haste for me. I had but just time to 
 receive her confession.- Oh ! what a frightful scene, 
 my child ! Why recall it to me ? And above all, 
 whose calumnious tongue " 
 
 " I have been told, also," pursued the inflexible 
 Gilbert, " that after this deplorable event M. Leminof, 
 holding in abhorrence the localities which witnessed 
 his dishonor, quitted Moscow and Russia, and went 
 to Martinique. Having arrived there, he lost, after 
 some months residence, one of his two children, a 
 daughter if I am not mistaken, and this death may 
 have been hastened by " 
 
 " A fresh calumny ! " interrupted the priest, look 
 ing steadily at Gilbert. The young girl died of yel 
 low fever. Kostia Petrovitch never raised a finger 
 against his children. Ah ! tell me what viper s 
 tongue " 
 
 " It is not a calumny, at least, to state that he has 
 two good reasons for not loving his son. First, be 
 cause he is the living portrait of his mother, and then 
 because he doubts, perhaps, if this child is really 
 his son." 
 
 " An impious doubt, which I have combatted with 
 all my strength. This child was born nine years be 
 fore his mother committed her first and only fault. 
 I have said it, and I repeat it. It has been objected 
 that he was born after six years of a marriage which 
 seemed condemned by heaven to an eternal sterility : 
 fatal circumstance, which appeared proof positive 
 to a vindictive and ulcerated heart. But again, who 
 could have told you " 
 
 " One more word : before leaving for Martinique, 
 
 M. Leminof did everything he could to discover the 
 
 lover of his wife. His suspicions fell upon one of 
 
 his intimate friends named Morlof. In his blind fury 
 
 10 
 
146 COUNT A OSTIA. 
 
 he killed him, but nevertheless Morlof was inno 
 cent." 
 
 " Did they tell you that he assassinated him ? " said 
 father Alexis, who became more and more agitated. 
 " Another calumny ! he killed him in regular duel. 
 Holy Virgin ! the sin was grave enough ; but the 
 police hushed up the matter, and absolution has been 
 granted him." 
 
 " Alas ! " resumed Gilbert, " if the church has 
 pardoned, the conscience of the murderer persists in 
 condemning ; it curses that rash hand which shed 
 innocent blood, and by a strange aberration it ex 
 horts him to wash out this fatal mistake in the blood 
 of the real offender. This offender, after six years 
 fruitless search, he has not given up the hope of 
 discovering ; he will go into the very bowels of the 
 earth to find him, if he must, and if by chance there 
 is some heart upon which the name is written, he will 
 open that heart with the point of his sword to deci 
 pher those letters of blood and of fire ! " 
 
 Gilbert pronounced these last words in a vibrating 
 voice. He had suddenly forgotten where he was and 
 to whom he was speaking. He thought he again saw 
 before him the scene of the corridor, and could 
 again hear those terrible words which had frozen the 
 blood in his veins. The priest was seized with a con 
 vulsive trembling ; but he soon mastered it. He 
 raised himself slowly and stood up before Gilbert, 
 his arms crossed upon his breast. Within a few mo 
 ments his face became dignified, and at the same 
 time his language. Now the transformation was 
 complete ; Gilbert had no longer before him the 
 timid, easy soul who trembled before a frown, the 
 epicure in quest of agreeable sensations, the vain 
 artist ingeniously begging eulogies. The priest s eyes 
 opened wide and shone like coals of fire ; his lips, 
 wreathed in a bitter smile, seemed ready to launch 
 the thunders of excommunication ; and a truly sacer 
 dotal majesty diffused itself as if by miracle over 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 147 
 
 his face. Gilbert could scarcely believe his eyes ; he 
 looked at him in silence, incapable of recognizing 
 this new father Alexis, who had just been revealed to 
 him. 
 
 Then, said the priest, speaking to himself: 
 
 "Brother! what simplicity is youis ! A few ca 
 resses, a few cajoleries, and your satisfied vanity 
 silences your distrust and disarms your good sense ! 
 Did you not know that this young man is the intimate 
 friend of your master ? " 
 
 Then bowing towards Gilbert : 
 
 " They thought then that you could make me 
 speak. And you imagined yourself that a coarse 
 artifice and some threatening talk would suffice to 
 tear from me a secret I have guarded for nearly seven 
 years. Presumptuous young man, return to him who 
 sent you, and repeat faithfully what I am about to 
 say to you : One day at Martinique, in a remote 
 house some distance from the outskirts of the town 
 of St. Pierre, let me speak, my story will be short. 
 Picture to yourself a great dark hall, with a table in 
 the centre. They shut me in there near noon ; the 
 next day at evening I was there still, and for thirty 
 hours I neither ate nor drank. The night came, 
 they stretched me upon a table, bound me and tied 
 me down. Then I saw bending over me a face more 
 terrible than thou wilt ever see. even in thy dreams, 
 and a mouth which sneered as the damned must 
 sneer, approached my ear and said to me : * Father 
 Alexis, I want your secret I will have it. I breathed 
 not a word ; they tightened the cords with a jack, 
 and I did not speak ; they piled weights on my chest, 
 and I spoke not ; they put boots upon me which I 
 hope never to see upon thy feet, and I spake not ; 
 my bones cracked, and I spake not ; I saw my blood 
 gush out, and I did not speak. At length a supreme 
 anguish seized me, a red cloud passed over my eyes, 
 I felt my heart freezing, and I thought myself dying. 
 Then I spoke and said : Count Leminof, thou canst 
 
148 CO UNT KOS7IA. 
 
 kill me, but thou shalt not tear from me the secrets 
 of the confessional. " And at these words, the 
 priest stooping, laid bare his right foot and showed 
 Gilbert the bruised and withered flesh, and bones de 
 formed by torture ; then covering it again he recoiled, 
 as if from a serpent in his path, and cried in a thun 
 dering voice, extending his arms to Heaven : 
 
 " God curse the vipers who take the form of 
 doves ! O Solomon, hast thou not written in thy 
 Proverbs : When he shall speak graciously, do not 
 believe him, for he has seven abominations in his 
 heart ? 
 
 As he listened to the recital of the priest, Gilbert 
 was reminded of some incoherent phrases of the 
 somnambulist, which he had not been able to ex 
 plain : " Stretch him on this table ! the black robe 1 
 Tighten the iron boots ! " 
 
 " That black robe then," said he to himself, " was 
 father Alexis." 
 
 He rose and looked at the priest in surprise and 
 admiration ; he could not take his eyes from that face 
 which he believed he saw for the first time, and he 
 murmured in a low voice : 
 
 " My God ! how complex is the heart of man ! 
 What a discovery I have just made ! " 
 
 Then he tried to approach him ; but the priest, 
 still recoiling and raising his arms threateningly above 
 his head, repeated : 
 
 " Cursed be the vipers who come in the form of 
 doves ! 
 
 " And I say," cried Gilbert, " blessed forever be 
 the lips which have touched the sacred coal, and keep 
 their secrets even unto death ! " 
 
 And rushing upon him he took him in his arms 
 and kissed three times the scar which the cruel bite 
 of Solon had left. 
 
 Father Alexis was surprised, stupefied, and con 
 founded. He looked at Gilbert, then at Abraham, 
 then at Jacob. He uttered disjointed phrases. He 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 149 
 
 called upon Heaven to witness what had happened to 
 him, gesticulated and wept until, overcome by emo 
 tion, he dropped on the marble step, and hid his face, 
 bathed in tears, in his hands. 
 
 " Father," said Gilbert respectfully, seating him 
 self near him, " pardon me for the agitation I have 
 caused you. And if by chance some distrust of me 
 remains, listen to what I am about to tell you, for 
 I am going to put myself at your mercy, and by be 
 traying a secret it will depend upon you to have me 
 expelled from this house the day and hour you 
 please." 
 
 He then related to him the scene of the corridor. 
 " Judge for yourself what impression the terrible 
 words I heard produced upon me ! For some days 
 my mind has been at work. I ceaselessly tried to 
 picture to myself the details of this lamentable affair ; 
 but fearing to stray in my suspicions, I wished to 
 make a clean breast of it, and came to find you. 
 I have grieved you sorely, father ; once more, will 
 you pardon my rash curiosity ? " 
 
 Father Alexis raised his head. Farewell to the 
 saint ! farewell to the prophet ! His face had re 
 sumed its habitual expression ; the sublime tempest 
 which had transfigured it, had left but a few almost 
 invisible traces of its passage. He looked at Gilbert 
 reproachfully 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, " it was only for this that you 
 sought me ? my dear child, you do not love the arts 
 then ? " 
 
 " Believe me," replied Gilbert smiling, " I love them 
 passionately. Just now I admired your patriarchs in 
 earnest; hereafter I shall admire them still more, for 
 in looking at them I shall be reminded of. that little 
 house on the outskirts of St. Pierre." 
 
 " Permit me to say, my dear child," interrupted 
 father Alexis " that these two subjects have no an 
 alogy. Had I revealed the secret of the confessional, 
 I should have merited eternal damnation. I did my 
 
I5O COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 duty, that is all, and in my place, any honest and or 
 thodox priest would have done the same ; but my 
 patriarchs But do not forget that the talent of an 
 artist is given by God to only a small number of his 
 favorites ; it is a treasure of which he is sparing. 
 One can be caloyer, archimandrite, prototype, bish 
 op or archbishop, and not be able to draw even the 
 end of a patriarch s nose, or one of those little pome 
 granate leaves which I have painted below them on 
 the wall. Talent, my child, is a gift of divine grace, 
 which should be used in all humility ; but I confess 
 it, my heart dances a little in my breast when I reflect 
 that if father Alexis should die, no one could be found 
 perhaps, from Astrakan to Paris, to make a picture 
 in the least resembling the patriarch Abraham and 
 his family. I am vexed," continued he, "that I rela 
 ted that story of the iron boots. I have never before 
 repeated it to any one, and I had nearly forgotten it. 
 I have forgiven it, forgiven everything, and that would 
 not astonish you, if you had been, as I have, a wit 
 ness of this man s despair. He aged twenty years in 
 a few months. He never slept, and was half mad. 
 There is something of Peter the Great in him. His 
 will is iron, and his passions fire. He was born to be 
 Czar, to govern an empire and to strangle his ene 
 mies. For God s sake do not put yourself in his way, 
 he will shiver you like glass. You do not know his 
 passions. They are convulsions. The idea of hav 
 ing been deceived gnaws him like a cancer. It is a 
 wound which will never close, and the sufferings which 
 he endures at times, you can imagine by the groans 
 you heard the other night. He is to be pitied. He 
 loved his wife, she was marvellously beautiful : you 
 can form an idea of it by her son, who resembles her 
 as a pigeon a dove. And when I say he loved her, it 
 was as the Grand Pacha loves his favorite Sultana, or, 
 it might be more correct to say, she was in his eyes 
 like a jewel of great price, an emerald, a topaz, 
 which he loved to see glisten in the sun. But above 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 151 
 
 all, she was his property, and no proprietor was ever 
 more jealous of his possessions. But answer me 
 frankly ; have you truly reported all you heard in the 
 corridor ? Yes, you know nothing more ? You could 
 swear it ? Now then I am tranquil ! My dear child, 
 do not wander any more at night, evil might befall 
 you. Besides, your trouble will be thrown away, for 
 I am much mistaken or Kostia Petrovitch has him 
 self locked in his room as long as the attack lasts. 
 That was his custom last year ; for I must tell you, 
 that since we returned to Europe, he has one of 
 these attacks every summer. The first two com 
 menced the fifth of July, the anniversary of his 
 wife s death. This one came sooner, and took him by 
 surprise. God grant that it may be short, for while 
 it lasts his disposition is not amiable. You see a 
 proof of that in the little scratch which I carry on my 
 cheek." 
 
 " Father," replied Gilbert after a silence, " suffer 
 me to ask you one more question, only one. How 
 happens it, that after the frightful scene which you 
 have related to me, you have continued to live with 
 M. Leminof ?" 
 
 " % That is a question," said he artlessly, "that I 
 have never put to myself." He reflected a few mo 
 ments in silence, and then, having collected his 
 thoughts, he continued : 
 
 " It is so long, my child, since I have had the pleas 
 ure of conversing with a living soul, and you are a 
 man of such amiable manners, that I cannot resist 
 the desire of unwinding my little skein before you, 
 assured as I am of your absolute discretion. My 
 wife died three months after the Countess Olga. God 
 grant her peace ! A great deliverance for me, you will 
 say ? I agree to that ; but if in becoming a widower 
 it had been necessary for me, according to custom, to 
 bury myself in a monastery, what shall I say? 
 Holy Virgin ! pardon me, but I have little taste for 
 monastic life. It was at that time that Count Kostia 
 
152 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 came to see me one day. He announced his inten 
 tion of seeking distraction from his sorrows in travel 
 ling over the world, and asked if I felt disposed to ac 
 company him, assuring me that he would treat me 
 with the greatest consideration. He caressed, wheed 
 led and bewitched me. I was a thousand miles from 
 suspecting his intentions. I consented. The novel 
 ty of adventure charmed me. He removed all diffi 
 culties and we left. Hardly had we arrived at Mar 
 tinique, when he unmasked himself. One day wan 
 dering with him in the country, Kostia Petrovitch said 
 to me what you repeated just now, that there was a 
 name, a terrible name, a hated name, that he wished 
 to know at any cost, that I knew to what a fatal 
 error his first researches had led him, and that hence 
 forth he would not trust to his suppositions, but that 
 he must have evidences, certainties, that he not 
 only wished to know, but that he must know ; but 
 however, that he no longer cherished any desire of 
 vengeance. A mere affair of curiosity ! But this 
 curiosity consumed his heart and his life, deprived 
 him of appetite, of sleep, and was shortening his days. 
 I had no trouble in believing this. My child, I see 
 him yet standing before me, both of his hands 
 placed on my shoulder.,, his flaming eyes fixed upon 
 mine. He added that this cursed name I ought to 
 know, I did know. My look, my agitation, my pallor, 
 my silence answered him. That moment commenced 
 for me a long train of suffering and anguish. It was 
 every day, prayers, supplications, importunities. He 
 turned and turned about me, a smile on his lips, a 
 threat in his eyes. He was like a serpent trying to 
 fascinate his prey. * At what price will you sell your 
 secret, said he. I will not bargain. He made me 
 promise upon promise, offered me even half of his 
 fortune. And I, I pointed to the crucifix which 
 hung upon my breast ! Then he changed his tac 
 tics. I was put upon a regime of terror. My nerves 
 are feeble, my child, and God knows moreover what 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 153 
 
 trials they have endured. One night, awaking sud 
 denly from my sleep, I found him sitting on the side 
 of my bed ; in one hand he held a lamp, in the 
 other a pistol, which he pointed at me. But let it pass, 
 let it pass ; I have already said that I have forgiven all. 
 After the torture of the boots, I was a long time re 
 covering. When I regained my feet, other trials com 
 menced. Privations, solitude, strict captivity, my 
 brushes thrown into the fire, absolutely forbidden to 
 draw or even to touch a pencil, such were the means 
 to which he had recourse to conquer me. For a time 
 I began to waste away. He saw it, and feared that I 
 might die, for he did not wish my death. My hollow 
 eyes, my emaciated frame, and my haggard look 
 frightened him ; I bore already upon my face a death 
 ly pallor. He had me cared for, raised all his prohi 
 bitions, permitted me to satisfy my appetite, to draw 
 and to paint. From that time my life became tolera 
 ble. I have still, it is true, some ugly hours to pass ; 
 the days follow each other and are unlike ; at the mo 
 ment when I least expect it, the storm breaks then 
 I bend my head, keep still and await a change. This 
 man s temper is very uneven. He passes whole 
 months absorbed in study. As the Russian proverb 
 says : Every baron has his fancy. His is to love 
 big books to madness. I heard him say one day, that 
 the visible form of happiness was a great folio. And 
 indeed his old books do him good, they give him, for 
 a time at least, quiet and .health; but suddenly his 
 memories revive, and his wound begins to bleed afresh. 
 Then the wild boar, which seemed to be tamed, shows 
 his natural ferocity and then beware of his tusks ! 
 I have felt them often, as you can believe, but my 
 skin has become hardened to them. In short, if I 
 live on the qui vive, still I live, and that is something. 
 And then one ought not to calumniate this fearful man. 
 He is not incapable of feeling. Would you believe 
 that he has never spoken to Stephane of the fault, nor 
 of the tragic death of his mother ? He has kept him in 
 
154 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 entire ignorance, and he suffers this child to cherish the 
 memory of the poor sinner as a saint. Another trait 
 of magnanimity which I recommend to your admira 
 tion : Kostia Petrovitch has never deigned to give a 
 glance at my pictures, which he inaptly calls daubs ; 
 but he has never complained of their being too costly, 
 and I do not spare the colors. Look at these 
 golden aureoles, they are at least two feet in diame 
 ter. Well ! he has never said to me, Father Alexis, 
 thy gold foil costs me too dearly; count upon thy 
 fingers all the roubles I have paid for it. What do 
 you say to that my child ? Does it not appear to you 
 that this man has good in him ? In short, whatever 
 you think of him, know that I have never dreamed of 
 quitting him, I am accustomed to his face. Kostia 
 Petrovitch made me suffer so much once that I am 
 much obliged to him for not doing so any more. And 
 what is happiness after all, if it is not the art of con 
 soling ourselves ? I have become very proficient in 
 this art, and I readily forget all in cultivating the small 
 talents which Heaven in its munificence has bestow 
 ed upon me. Besides, if I wanted to go away, is it 
 certain that I could ? What this man wants, he wants 
 indeed, and he intends to have me always under his 
 hand ; for if he has renounced the idea of extorting 
 my secret by violence, he still cherishes the hope of 
 drawing it from me some day, by some adroit sur 
 prise. His method is skilful ; he rests six months 
 without saying anything tQ me, and then suddenly, 
 when he thinks me disarmed, he throws his hook in 
 my soul ; but Heaven be praised ! whatever bait he 
 puts there, my secret never bites at it. There are 
 angels of God who keep guard day and night over 
 the secrets of the confessional. What more can I say 
 to you, my child ? I am at an age when a man does 
 not feel like changing his lot, and when he employs 
 the strength which remains to him in submitting or in 
 forgetting. Look at Ivan, that other greybeard. For 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 155 
 
 fifteen years he begged his master to free him. He 
 wanted to be a travelling peddler, to wander over the 
 high roads, to go away upon his nimble feet from 
 Moscow to Tim s and from Tiflis to Astrachan. To 
 day, if his liberty were given him, and he were sent 
 from here, he would be like an eagle with clipped 
 wings, thrown from his nest and told to go where he 
 willed, that all space was his." 
 
 During this long recital, the face of the priest was 
 elevated and illuminated again ; but he had scarcely 
 finished, when passing his hand over the pit of his 
 stomach, he said : 
 
 " Young man, come with me into the Sacristy. I 
 have some caviar in the closet, some buttered toast 
 and a bottle of muscat wine, which I will regale you 
 with. It is a nectar that has no parallel. You can 
 tell me the news over it. Afterwards we will mount 
 the scaffolding and you shall see me paint. I want 
 to show you how I lay on my colors." 
 
 Impatient at these continued changes, Gilbert rose 
 abruptly and said : 
 
 " I thank you, father, it is time for me to go. 
 Fortunately I leave reassured in regard to you ; but 
 Stephane ! " 
 
 " You are going already ! " exclaimed the priest 
 in a disappointed tone ; and pushing in his mouth 
 the forefinger of his right hand, and withdrawing it 
 with a loud noise : 
 
 " Think of that Fuencarral muscat ! " 
 
 " And Stephane ! " repeated Gilbert, making his 
 way towards the door." 
 
 The priest led him back. 
 
 " Ah yes," said he shaking his head and stroking 
 his beard, " ah yes ! the wicked child ! he wanted to 
 kill himself. It runs in the blood. The evil genius 
 of his mother is in him. There is a taste for poison 
 in this family. One of his maternal grand uncles put 
 an end to himself with arsenic in due form at the age 
 of fifty." 
 
156 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " Does Stephane resemble his mother in character 
 as well as in face ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! Olga Vassilievna was a sweet soft 
 woman, gentle as a lamb and frail as a flower. She 
 often hummed a song which commenced thus : 
 
 " I am a little white rose, 
 And if the storm wind grazes me with its wings : 
 
 Poor Olga Vassilievna ! the storm has passed 
 over her and broken her. Have you watched the 
 pretty white down which floats in the spring breezes ? 
 It ascends and descends falls upon the grass and 
 remains poised on the long stiff blades, until a gust 
 of wind takes it up again and carries it a few steps 
 further. Such was Olga Vassilievna. She was so 
 amiable that Kostia Petrovitch did with her whatever 
 he wished. A falcon became the husband of the 
 dove. She had her caprices of course, her little 
 fancies, but she expressed them so gracefully and 
 gently ! When she fluttered through her parlors, 
 she looked like a pretty muslin cloud. And her 
 laces, I assure you, were not lighter than her little 
 heart. In summer she passed long hours coiled in 
 the depths of an easy chair, or lying in a hammock, 
 her fan in her hand, prattling like a magpie with her 
 visitors, or she glided softly through her garden and 
 sometimes fell exhausted at the end of a path. Often 
 has her husband carried her to the house in his arms. 
 It was through weakness that this woman sinned. If 
 Count Kostia had never left her, she would have 
 died pure and stainless ; protected by his presence, 
 she would never have thought of putting the tip of 
 her delicate little foot outside of the path of duty. 
 Ah, why had Kostia Petrovitch such a passion for 
 big books ? Why did he go away to Paris to bury 
 himself in the dust of libraries ? It was the first time 
 they had been separated. She had just recovered 
 from an illness, and it would have been dangerous to 
 expose her to the fatigues of travel, and he could not 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 157 
 
 delay his departure. He published learned disser 
 tations in the " Contemporain" and had researches to 
 make in Paris. He was to have remained there 
 eighteen months. Suddenly he received a letter from 
 Russia, which he 4 hardly read before he sped home 
 ward like an arrow. He arrived when no one expect 
 ed him, and found the Countess Olga seven months 
 advanced in pregnancy, while he had been absent ten. 
 He remained shut up with her for three hours, and at 
 the end c-f this interview she poisoned herself. But 
 observe, my child, how complicated are events in this 
 world. If Kostia Petrovitch had never made that 
 cursed voyage, I should perhaps have been a monk 
 to-day languishing in the cell of a monastery. And 
 see how causes entwine themselves with effects, for 
 finally" 
 
 " So Stephane resembles his mother but in face." 
 
 " And in what else could he resemble her ? He 
 is violent, passionate, a smothered volcano. Al 
 though of slight figure and thin as a reed, he courses 
 through the woods on horseback for twenty-four hours 
 without fatigue. What frightens me is this inclina 
 tion for poison, which seems hereditary." 
 
 " I do not know," replied Gilbert, stopping at the 
 entrance of the lobby hung in black velvet, into which 
 the door of the chapel opened " I do not know that 
 it is exactly from inclination that Stephane has at 
 tempted to poison himself, and I doubt if he loves 
 phosphorus, as you, for example, love painting. I 
 think I have discovered that he is unhappy, very un 
 happy." 
 
 " After all," said the priest, smiling, " they have 
 never put iron boots on him." And he looked down 
 upon his poor crippled feet with an expression which 
 seemed to say: " You remember it well." 
 
 " Ah ! my father, there are moral sufferings, which 
 for a noble and proud soul " 
 
 Gilbert did not finish. The face of the old child 
 before him took away his courage. 
 
158 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " I am speaking in Hebrew to him," thought he. 
 
 Father Alexis scratched his ear, and said in a 
 grave tone : 
 
 " Yes, you have just named his trouble, it is his 
 pride, his fatal pride. This child commits the sin of 
 pride twenty times a day, and I really think his char 
 acter grows worse. Once he was much more amiable, 
 more patient. Within a year he has become gloomy 
 and irritable ; he has fits of insubordination." 
 
 " It seems very natural to me," replied Gilbert, 
 " that with the progress of years " 
 
 " Ah ! what are you saying ? " exclaimed the priest 
 in a magisterial tone. " This child is already sixteen. 
 Has not the time arrived for him to put a little ballast 
 in his hare-brained head ? Holy Virgin, he is of an 
 age when he should reflect, reason, and meditate 
 seriously upon the teachings of his spiritual father. 
 It is full time that he should understand that the ways 
 of God are mysterious, and that we are here below in 
 a land of trials/ 
 
 And as Gilbert put his hand upon the knob of the 
 door he added in a low voice : " Listen to me, I want 
 to confide to you still another secret. These paint 
 ings which you see around you are not only a monu 
 ment of art, of which posterity will speak, they are 
 besides, if I may dare to say so, a pious invention 
 destined to draw down upon our heads the blessings 
 of the Holy Trinity. One day I made a vow to trace 
 upon these walls all the glories of religion, and I sup 
 plicated the Holy Virgin, to accomplish some resplen 
 dent miracle in return as soon as this great work 
 should be completed, one which would put an end 
 to all the sufferings of this house. *VVell ! one night 
 she appeared to me. My child, I have a quick hand, 
 and I flatter myself that before two months " 
 
 Gilbert smiled, bowed without answering, and went 
 out. 
 
 " This priest is strange," mused he as he crossed 
 the yard. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 159 
 
 " That young man is singular," mused father Alex 
 is, as he made his way to the sacristy. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THAT day Gilbert passed an entire hour at his 
 window. It was not the Rhine which fixed his atten 
 tion, nor the precipice, the mountains nor the clouds. 
 The narrow space within which he confined his gaze 
 was bounded on the west by the great square tower, 
 on the south by a gable, on the north by a spout ; I 
 mean to say that the object of his contemplations 
 was a very irregular, very undulating roof, or to speak 
 more accurately, two adjacent and parallel roofs, one 
 higher than the other by twelve feet, and both inclining 
 by a steep slope towards a frightful precipice. 
 
 As he closed the window, he said to himself: 
 
 " After all, it is less difficult than I thought ; two 
 rope ladders will do the business, with God s help ! " 
 
 M. Leminof finding himself too much indisposed 
 to leave his room, Gilbert dined alone in his turret ; 
 after which he went out for a walk on the borders of 
 the Rhine. As he left the path for the main road, he 
 saw Stephane and Ivan within twenty paces of him. 
 Perceiving him, the young man made an angry gesture, 
 and turning his face, started his horse off at full speed. 
 Gilbert had scarcely time to leap into the ditch to 
 avoid being run down. As Ivan passed, he looked at 
 him sadly, shook his head and carried his finger to 
 his forehead, as if to say : " You must pardon him ; 
 his poor mind is very sick." Gilbert returned to the 
 castle without delay, and as he reached the entrance 
 to the terrace, he saw the serf leaning against one of 
 the doors, where he seemed to be on guard. 
 
 " My dear Ivan," said he, " you appear to be 
 waiting for some one." 
 
160 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 11 1 heard you coming," answered he, " and I took 
 you for Vladimir Paulitch. It was the sound of your 
 step which deceived me ; you haven t such a meas 
 ured step generally." 
 
 " You are a keen observer," replied Gilbert smil 
 ing ; " but who, I pray, is this Vladimir Paulitch ? " 
 
 " He is a physician from my country. He will re 
 main two months with us. The barine wrote to him 
 a fortnight since, when he felt that he was going to be 
 ill ; Vladimir Paulitch left immediately, and day be 
 fore yesterday he wrote from Berlin that he would 
 be here this evening. This Vladimir is a physician 
 who hasn t his equal. I am waiting for him to ar 
 rive." 
 
 " Tell me, good Ivan, is your young master in the 
 garden ? " 
 
 " He is down there under the weeping ash." 
 
 " Very well, you must permit me to speak to him 
 a moment. You will even extend the obligation by 
 saying nothing about it to Kostia Petrovitch. You 
 know he cannot see us, for he keeps his bed now, 
 and even if he should rise, his windows open on the 
 inner court." 
 
 Ivan s brow contracted. " Impossible, impossi 
 ble ! " he murmured. 
 
 " Impossible ? Why ? Because you will not." 
 
 " And if I should, do you think that Stephane 
 would consent ? You don t know, then, how he de 
 tests you ? The sound of your voice would be enough 
 to put him to flight. He is in a very sad, mo 
 rose humor to-day. Didn t you see how. he urged 
 his horse on you ? We left this morning at eight 
 o clock. He generally gallops like the wind, and 
 amuses himself by making Soliman prance and cara 
 cole ; to-day he kept him at a walk. He wouldn t 
 open his mouth ; not a word, not a syllable ! His 
 head down, he heard nothing, saw nothing. At noon 
 we stopped at an inn to breakfast. He didn t want 
 to eat, and I had to force him to. It was not until 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. l6l 
 
 we were again in the saddle that he broke silence ; 
 but it would have been much better if he had held 
 his tongue. Ah ! if father Alexis had heard him ! 
 He blasphemed against Heaven, and cursed himself 
 a hundred times for not having had the courage to 
 kill himself. Then in a moment afterwards he said : 
 After all, I m glad I m not dead, for it is possible 
 for me yet to be revenged on my enemies. And 
 even if I don t succeed, mortification will kill me, 
 Ivan. What s the use of poison ? I shall be dead with 
 in six months any way. " 
 
 " Ivan, my good Ivan, it is absolutely necessary 
 for me to speak to your young master. I have made 
 him submit to a humiliation against my will. He mis 
 takes my sentiments and credits me with the blackest 
 intentions, and it will be torture to him in future to 
 be condemned to sit at the same table with me daily. 
 Let me explain myself to him. In two words I will 
 make him understand who I am, and that I wish him 
 no harm." 
 
 The discussion was prolonged some minutes, 
 Ivan finally yielding, but on the condition that Gilbert 
 should not put his good will to the proof a second time. 
 " Otherwise," said Ivan, " if you still attempt to talk 
 with him secretly, I cannot permit him to go out, 
 and of course he could only blame you, and would 
 then have the right to consider you an enemy." 
 
 Upon his side, the serf promised that the Count 
 should know nothing of the interview. 
 
 " Recollect, brother," continued he, " that this is 
 the last improper favor that you will obtain from me. 
 You are a man of heart, but sometimes I should say 
 that you had been eating belladonna" 
 
 Stephane had left the circular bank where he had 
 been sitting, and stood with his back against the par 
 apet of the terrace, his arms hanging dejectedly, and 
 his head sunk upon his breast. His revery was so 
 profound that Gilbert approached within ten steps of 
 him without being perceived ; but suddenly rousing 
 ii 
 
1 62 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 himself, he raised his head quickly, and stamped his 
 foot imperiously. 
 
 " Go away ! " cried he, " go away, or I will set 
 Vorace on you ! " 
 
 Vorace was the name of the bull-dog that kept 
 him company at night, and was crouching in the 
 grass some paces distant. Of all the watch-dogs of 
 the castle, this one was the strongest and most fero 
 cious. 
 
 " You see," said Ivan, retaining Gilbert by the 
 arm, " you have nothing to do here." 
 
 Gilbert gently disengaged himself and continued 
 to advance. 
 
 " Get out of my sight," screamed Stephane. "Why 
 do you come to trouble my solitude ? Who gives you 
 the right to pursue me, to track me ? How dare you 
 look me in the face after " 
 
 He could say no more. Excitement and anger 
 choked his voice. For some moments he looked al 
 ternately at Gilbert and the dog ; then changing his 
 purpose, he moved as if to fly, but Gilbert barred the 
 way. 
 
 " Listen to me but a minute," said Ke in a gentle 
 and penetrating voice, " I bring you good news." 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed Stephane, and he repeated, 
 " You ! you ! good news ! " 
 
 " I ! " said Gilbert, " for I come to announce to 
 you my near departure/ 
 
 Stephane stared with wide open eyes, and re 
 coiled slowly to the wall, where, leaning back again, 
 he exclaimed : " What ! you are going ? Ah ! cer 
 tainly the news is excellent, as well as unexpected ; 
 but you are giving yourself unnecessary trouble, 
 there was no need to forewarn me. Your departure ! 
 great God ! I should have been notified of it in ad 
 vance by the clearness of the air, by the more vivid 
 brightness of the sun, by some strange joy diffused 
 through all my being. Oh ! I understand, you are not 
 able to digest the outrage done to you by the excel- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 163 
 
 lent Fritz at my order. You consider the reparation 
 insufficient You are right, I swear it by St. George, 
 my heart made no apologies to you. I upon my 
 knees to you ! Horror and misery ! As I told you 
 yesterday, I yielded only to force. It was the same 
 as if I should make my bull-dog throw you down at 
 my feet now ! " 
 
 Gilbert made no answer ; he contented himself 
 with drawing from his pocket-book the letter which 
 he had written the day before, and presenting it to 
 Stephane. 
 
 " What have I to do with this paper ? " said Ste 
 phane with a gesture of disdain. " You have told me 
 your news, that is sufficient for me. Anything more 
 you could add would spoil my happiness." 
 
 " Read ! " said Gilbert. " I have granted you 
 such a great favor that you can well afford to grant 
 me a small one." Stephane hesitated a moment, but 
 the habitual tediousness of his life was so great that 
 the want of diversion overcame his hatred and scorn. 
 
 " This letter is not bad 1" said he as he read. " Its 
 style is eloquent, the penmanship is admirable too. 
 It involuntarily suggests to me the tie of your cravat. 
 Both are so correct that they are insufferable." 
 
 Gilbert smiling, untied his cravat and let the ends 
 hang down upon his vest. 
 
 " It is not worth while to incommode yourself," 
 pursued Stephane, " we have so short a time to live 
 together ! Pray do not renounce your most cher 
 ished habits for me. The bow of your cravat as well 
 as your writing, harmonize wonderfully with your 
 whole person. I do not suppose, however, that to 
 please me you would reconstruct yourself from head 
 to foot. The undertaking would be considerable." 
 
 Gilbert let him talk and felt no anger, for he no 
 ticed with some satisfaction that having read his let 
 ter once he had begun to read it again. 
 
 " How charming these last lines are ! " resumed 
 the young man after a silence. 
 
1 64 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " I swear to thee that my eyes were full of tears !" 
 
 " Did you count them those precious tears ? 
 However, I will be indulgent, for there is a word in 
 this eloquent note which delights me. I see that you 
 have had wit enough to discover that my pretended 
 apologies were nothing. And then the charming part 
 My dear sir, at what hour do you go ? Oh ! tell me the 
 hour ! I want to know the hour, I want to assist in 
 person at this moving and delicious scene. Ah ! 
 blessed, blessed for ages upon ages, may those be 
 who aid you in packing, the porter who will carry 
 your luggage on his shoulders ; the six horses that 
 will take you away at a gallop ; the coachman who 
 will urge them with voice and whip ; the carriage that 
 will jolt your dear person over every rut of the road ! 
 And above all, a thousand thanks, a thousand bless 
 ings, a thousand good things, to the whirlwind of dust 
 which, down there at the first turning of the road, will 
 hide forever from my sight one of the men who has 
 made me suffer more than any one else, and whom I 
 hate from the bottom of my soul ! " 
 
 " Take breath, I beg of you," answered Gilbert 
 coolly, "and permit me to speak. I have made a lit 
 tle change in my programme : I shall not leave to 
 morrow. I have granted myself a week s delay." 
 
 Stephane s face darkened, and his eyes flashed. 
 
 " I swear to you here, upon my honor, 1 contin 
 ued Gilbert, " that in a week I will leave, never to 
 return, unless you yourself beg me to remain." 
 
 " What baseness ! and how cleverly this little plot 
 has been contrived ; I see it all. By force of threats 
 and violence they hope to compel me a second time 
 to bend my knees to you and cry with clasped hands, 
 1 Sir, in the name of Heaven, continue us the favor of 
 your precious presence ! But this act of cowardice 
 I shall never commit ! Rather death ! rather death ! " 
 
 " Do not rave so, I implore you ! On my honor 
 your father shall never know a word of what we have 
 just said, you and I. I do not know how much Ivan 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 165 
 
 has understood; but he has sworn secrecy, and I 
 trust his word. In asking delay, I desire only to give 
 you time to reflect. A week is not a century. In a 
 week you will whisper to me one of these two words : 
 Go or Stay, and I shall conform to your wishes 
 without hesitation. I will also, if you persist in dis 
 missing me, allege reasons for my departure which 
 can in no way implicate you." 
 
 While Gilbert spoke, Stephane kept his eyes ob 
 stinately fixed upon him. At these last words, he 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 " Oh, this is a little too much ! If you are not a 
 scoundrel, sir, you are a lunatic. What, is it possible 
 that you imagine ? " 
 
 " If I want you to wait a few days before coming 
 to a decision," replied Gilbert calmly, " it is because 
 you do not know me yet. Who knows but there may 
 exist between us a secret congeniality of disposition 
 and inclinations which you do not suspect, and which 
 may ripen in time into perfect friendship ? " 
 
 Stephane measured him with contemptuous 
 glances. 
 
 " It is you who are raving now, sir," answered he 
 in an icy tone. " Spare me your idle fancies, my 
 pride will not allow me to hear more. " 
 
 And as Gilbert sought to take his hand, he drew 
 off several steps. 
 
 " A word only," resumed Gilbert, without being 
 discouraged. " Submit me to some proof. Have 
 you no caprice which it is in my power to satisfy ? " 
 
 And showing him with his finger a fragment of 
 white quartz four feet below the parapet, at the 
 place where the precipice began 
 
 " See that pretty piece of quartz," said he : " shall 
 I get it for you ? " 
 
 Stephane did not deign to turn his head, but 
 meanwhile the unexpected turn the conversation had 
 taken, surprised as well as moved him. But he took 
 great care to let no indication of it appear. 
 
1 66 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " Throw yourself at my feet," cried he impetuously ; 
 " drag yourself in the dust, kiss the ground before me, 
 and demand pardon and mercy of me ! At this price 
 I will grant you, not my affection certainly, but my 
 indulgence and pity." 
 
 " Impossible ! " answered Gilbert, shaking his 
 head. " I am like you ; I should not know how to 
 kneel, unless some one stronger than myself con 
 strained me by violence. Oh, no ! in such a per 
 formance I should lose even the hope of being some 
 day esteemed by you. The more so as in the trial 
 to which I wish you would subject me, I should 
 desire to have some danger to brave, some difficulty 
 to surmount." 
 
 Stephane could not conceal his astonishment. 
 Never in all his life had he heard language like this. 
 Nevertheless distrust and pride triumphed still over 
 every other feeling. 
 
 " Since you wish it ! " said he sneering .... and 
 he drew a kid glove from one of his pockets, rubbed it 
 between his hands and threw it to the bull-dog, who 
 caught it in his teeth and kept it there. " Vor- 
 ace," said he to him, " keep your master s glove be 
 tween your teeth, watch it well ; you will answer to 
 me for it." 
 
 Then turning to Gilbert, " Sir, will you please 
 restore my glove to me ? I should be infinitely obliged 
 to you for it. " 
 
 " Ah ! this is then the trial to which you will sub 
 ject me ? " answered Gilbert with a smile upon his lips. 
 
 Stephane looked him in the face. For the first 
 time, he could not avoid being struck by its noble ex 
 pression and the clearness and purity of his glance. 
 Gilbert s face had become transparent, and would 
 have revealed to the least clairvoyant of eyes the 
 intrepidity of his character matured by the struggles 
 of life, the purity of a heart predestined to an eter 
 nal youth. 
 
 Stephane was involuntarily moved, and strove in 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. l6/ 
 
 vain to conceal it by the jocular tone in which he 
 replied : 
 
 " No sir, it is not a test of your sincerity, but a 
 jest which we shall do well not to push further. This 
 animal is not amiable. Should you be unfortunate 
 enough to irritate him, it would be impossible even 
 for me, his master, to calm his fury. Be good enough 
 then to leave my glove where it is , and return peace 
 ably to your study to meditate upon some important 
 problem in Byzantine history. That will be a trial 
 less perilous and better proportioned to your strength. 
 Good-evening, sir, good-night." 
 
 . " Oh ! permit me," replied Gilbert, " I am resolved 
 to carry this adventure to its conclusion ! " 
 
 And gently repulsing Stephane, who sought to 
 retain him, he walked straight toward the bull-dog. 
 
 " Take care, 1 cried the young man shuddering, 
 " do not trifle with that beast, or you are a dead 
 man ! " 
 
 " Take care," repeated Ivan, who not having un 
 derstood half of what had been said, hardly suspected 
 Gilbert s intention. " Take care, this dog is a fero 
 cious beast." 
 
 Meantime Gilbert, crossing his arms upon his 
 breast, advanced slowly towards the bull-dog, keeping 
 his eyes steadily fixed on those of the animal, and 
 when he thought he had disconcerted him by his 
 undaunted gaze sufficiently to make him relax his 
 grip upon the prize, he suddenly tore the glove from 
 him and waved it in the air with his right hand. At 
 the same moment Vorace, with a howl of rage, bound 
 ed up to leap at the throat of his despoiler. Gilbert 
 sprang back, covering himself with his left arm, and 
 the dog s jaws only grazed his shoulder. Yet when 
 he touched the ground again, he held between his 
 teeth a long strip of cloth, a scrap of linen and a 
 morsel of bloody flesh. Mad with fury the bull-dog 
 rolled over on the grass with this prize which he 
 could hardly devour, and then suddenly, as if seized 
 
1 68 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 with a paroxysm of frenzy, he moved towards the 
 castle doubling upon himself ; but reaching the foot 
 of the turret, he looked for his enemy and returned 
 like an arrow to pounce upon him again. 
 
 " Throw down the glove," cried Ivan, " and climb 
 the ash." 
 
 " I will surrender the glove only to him who asked 
 me for it ! " answered Gilbert. 
 
 And hiding it in his bosom, he drew a knife from 
 his pocket. He had not time to open it. The dog, 
 with bristling hair and foaming jaws was already 
 within three steps of him, gathering himself to spring 
 upon him ; but he had scarcely raised himself from 
 the ground when he fell back with his head shat 
 tered. The hatchet which Ivan carried at his girdle 
 had come down upon him like a flash. The terri 
 ble animal vainly attempted to rise, rolled writhing in 
 the dust, and breathed out his life with a hoarse and 
 fearful howl. 
 
 " Thanks, my good Ivan," said Gilbert pressing 
 the serfs hand. 
 
 Then approaching Stephane, who stood immov 
 able, trembling in every limb, and his head buried in 
 his hands : 
 
 " Here is your glove," said he, in a caressing voice. 
 " Compose yourself, I am still alive. Unfortunately 
 I seem condemned always to make you unhappy ; 
 your dog is dead, and it was for me that Ivan killed 
 him. Can you forgive me ? " 
 
 Stephane removed his hands from his face and 
 took the glove ; but at the sight of Gilbert s mutilated 
 and bloody arm, he cried : 
 
 " Oh ! the horrible wound ! " and pointed at it 
 with his finger, then suddenly fainted, and would have 
 fallen to the ground if Ivan had not caught him. 
 
 "Brother," said the serf to Gilbert, "you have 
 done a fine piece of work here ! Wasn t I right in 
 saying that you eat belladonna sometimes ? See, the 
 child has nearly fainted. I must carry him to his. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 169 
 
 tower quickly. Your wound bleeds a great deal ; bind 
 your handkerchief around your arm. That s right ! 
 Now come quickly and open the door of the private 
 staircase for us, and Heaven grant we meet nobody in 
 the corridor. Make haste ! and as soon as my young 
 father comes to, I will come to you and take off your 
 clothes and dress your wound." 
 
 Gilbert made his way rapidly to the little door, 
 and opened it. Ivan passed in before him, mounted 
 the staircase in three leaps, and darted into the cor 
 ridor with his previous burden. When Gilbert reached 
 his own room, he attempted to examine his wound ; 
 but had lost so much blood and, in trying to detach 
 the handkerchief which adhered to the wound, the pain 
 was so great that he felt himself growing faint, too. 
 A mist came over his eyes, and he had only time to 
 throw himself on a chair, which stood near the bed, 
 when his head dropped on the pillow and he lost 
 consciousness. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DOCTOR VLADIMIR PAULITCH arrived at the castle 
 just in time to take care of Gilbert. The wound was 
 wide and deep, and in consequence of the great heat 
 which prevailed, it might easily have proved serious ; 
 fortunately, Doctor Vladimir was a skilful man, and 
 under his care the wound was soon healed. He em 
 ployed certain specifics, the uses of which were known 
 only to himself, and which he took care to keep a se 
 cret from his patient. His medicine was as mysteri 
 ous as his person. 
 
 Vladimir Paulitch was forty years of age ; his face 
 was striking but unattractive. His eyes had the color 
 and the hard brightness of steel; his keen glances, 
 subject to his will, often questioned, but never al- 
 
I/O COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 lowed themselves to be interrogated. Well made, 
 slender, a slight and graceful figure, he had in his 
 gait and movements a feline suppleness and stealthi- 
 ness. He was slow, but easy of speech, and never 
 animated ; the tone of his voice was cold and veiled, 
 and whatever the subject of conversation might be, he 
 neither raised nor lowered it ; no modulations ; every 
 one of his sentences terminated in a little minor ca 
 dence, which fell sadly on the ear. He sometimes 
 smiled in speaking, it is true, but it was a pale smile 
 which did not light up his face. This smile signified 
 simply : " I do not give you my best reason, and I 
 defy you to divine it." 
 
 Endowed with that admirable quickness of per 
 ception which is frequently met among the Sclavoni- 
 ans, Vladimir had glanced at everything, formed im 
 pressions of everything. He spoke with ease five or 
 six languages ; he knew all the literatures of Europe ; 
 and there was no science of which he had not ac 
 quired some smattering ; but he had examined noth 
 ing thoroughly, investigated nothing profoundly : in 
 all the books which he had skimmed over he had 
 studied but little more than the preface, so that with 
 the exception of the medical art, where instinct served 
 him better than study, he had in his mind commence 
 ments only, and his thoughts were but sketches of 
 errors or truths. He prided himself on having exam 
 ined all systems of philosophy and on despising them 
 all. He had taken no lessons nor counsel from any 
 of the illustrious thinkers who have been the teachers 
 of the human race, and he flattered himself that he 
 was indebted to no one ; he made up of all sorts of 
 shreds and patches his own credo and philosophy ; he 
 was one of those minds which have neither father, 
 mother, family nor country : veritable foundlings of 
 intelligence, kcimathloses of the kingdom of thought, 
 for whom there is no place of which they can say : 
 "This is my country! This is the old homestead. 
 There is the cradle where I dreamed my first dreams, 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. I /I 
 
 There is the school where my tongue was first un 
 loosed." 
 
 Vladimir believed himself to be one of the " eman 
 cipated minds," and yet the supreme servitude of 
 thought is to be dependent upon fortuitous things. 
 Woe to the intellects which draw all their light from 
 the accidents and vicissitudes of life, and which have 
 frequented no other school than that of chance. 
 Doubtless it is good to profit by the lessons of expe 
 rience, and Casanova was right in pitying men whose 
 reflective faculties have never been awakened by some 
 extraordinary event in opposition to their daily 
 habits. They are not the less to be pitied, however, 
 who never reason, but from their personal experience, 
 and who, drifting with the current of events, take the 
 fortunes and misfortunes of their lives for their ora 
 cles. Vladimir s youth had been heaped with the fa 
 vors of Heaven; and prosperity expanding his soul 
 had given to its aims a noble and lofty direction ; but 
 at thirty, he had been smitten with a great misfortune 
 which had shattered all the energies of his being and 
 laid waste at the same time his intellect and his 
 heart. One night s frost had sufficed to destroy all 
 the hopes of his spring. From that moment he looked 
 at men and facts only through his own misfortune ; 
 and God not having wrought a miracle in his favor, 
 he was persuaded that the world is governed by a 
 blind and implacable fatality. Thus infatuated, and 
 as if idolatrous of his unhappiness, he replied to all 
 arguments of philosophy or religion, " I know what to 
 depend upon ; destiny has revealed its secret to me." 
 
 One morning when Ivan had come by order of the 
 doctor to dress Gilbert s wound, our friend questioned 
 him as to the character and life of Vladimir Paulitch. 
 Of the man, Ivan knew nothing, and confined himself 
 to extolling the genius of the physician ; he expressed 
 himself in regard to him in a mysterious tone. The 
 imposing face of this impenetrable personage, the ex 
 traordinary power of his glance, his impassible grav- 
 
1/2 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ity, the miraculous cures which he had wrought, it 
 needed no more to convince the honest serf that 
 Vladimir Paulitch dealt in magic and held communi 
 cations with spirits ; and he felt for his person a pro 
 found veneration mingled with superstitious terror. 
 He told* Gilbert that since the age of twenty-five, 
 Vladimir had been directing a hospital and private 
 asylum which Count Kostia had founded upon his es 
 tates, and that thanks to him these two establishments 
 had not their equals in all Russia. 
 
 " Last year," added the serf, " he came to attend 
 the barine, and told him that his malady would return 
 this year, but more feebly, and that this would be the 
 last. You will see that all will come to pass as he has 
 said. Kostia Petrovitch is already much better, and 
 I wager that next summer will come and go without 
 his feeling his nerves." 
 
 As Ivan prepared to go, Gilbert detained him to 
 ask news of Stephane. The serf had been very dis 
 creet, and had related the adventure upon the terrace 
 to his master without compromising any one. The 
 only trouble he had had was in persuading him that 
 it was not on a sign from Stephane that the dog had 
 attacked Gilbert. 
 
 " But, sir," demanded he, in his familiar language, 
 " what did you mean by tearing my young father s 
 glove from poor Vorace ? " 
 
 " He had defied me, and I thought myself bound 
 in honor. It was a great piece of folly ; you can 
 readily believe I have no desire to try it again." 
 
 " You will do wisely," replied Ivan, in a slightly 
 ironical tone, " especially as you are very much mis 
 taken if you flatter yourself that you have won his heart 
 by it. For several days he has refused to set foot on 
 the terrace for fear of meeting you there." 
 
 This unpleasant news rendered Gilbert uneasy, 
 but he carefully concealed his sadness. 
 
 " From what motive," said he to himself, " does 
 Stephane seek to avoid me ? Is it a ruse, intended to 
 
COUNT KOSTIA 173 
 
 lull the distrust of his jailer? or is it false shame 
 which makes him apprehensive of seeing me again ? 
 or have I but succeeded in stirring up the hatred 
 which he had vowed against me ? " 
 
 The next day Gilbert dined in the great hall of the 
 castle with M. Leminof and father Alexis. 
 
 " Do not disturb yourself because Stephane does 
 not dine with us," said the Count to him. " He is not 
 sick; but he has a new grievance against you; you 
 have caused the death of his dog. I ask your par 
 don, my dear Gilbert, for the irrational conduct of my 
 son. I have given him three days for the sulks. When 
 that time has passed, I intend that he shall put on his 
 good looks for you, and that he shall take his place 
 at the table opposite you without frowning." 
 
 " And how is it that Doctor Vladimir is not with 
 us?" 
 
 " He has begged me to excuse him for a time. He 
 finds himself much fatigued with the care he has given 
 me. A magnetic treatment, you understand. I 
 should inform you that every year, some time during 
 the summer, I am subject to attacks of neuralgia 
 from which I suffer intensely. By the way, you have 
 seen our admirable doctor several times. What do 
 you think of him ? " 
 
 " I don t know whether he is a great savant, but I 
 am inclined to think he is a first-class artist." 
 
 " You cannot pay him a finer compliment ; medi 
 cine is an art rather than a science. He is also a 
 man capable of the greatest devotion. I am indebted 
 to him for my life, and it was not as physician that he 
 saved me either. A pair of stallions ran away with 
 me within twenty paces of a precipice ; the doctor ap 
 pearing from behind a thicket darted to the heads of 
 the horses and hung on to them by their nostrils which 
 he held in an iron grip. You have the whole scene 
 from these windows. What was amusing in it was, 
 that having thanked him, with what warmth you can 
 imagine, he answered, in a tranquil tone, and wiping 
 
1/4 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 his knees for the horses in falling had laid him full 
 length in the dust It is I who am obliged to you; 
 for the first time I have been suspended between life 
 and death, and it is a singular sensation. But for you 
 I should not have known it. This will give you an 
 idea of the man and his sang froid ! " 
 
 " I am not surprised at his having the agility of a 
 wild cat," replied Gilbert; but I suspect the sang 
 froid is feigned, and that his placidity of face is a 
 mask which hides a very passionate soul." 
 
 " Passionate is not the word, or at least the doc 
 tor knows only the passions of the head. There was 
 a time when he thought himself desperately in love ; 
 an unpardonable weakness in such a distinguished 
 man ; but he was not long in undeceiving himself, 
 and he has not fallen into such a fatal error since." 
 
 " So curiosity and medicine are the only passions 
 of Vladimir Paulitch ! " 
 
 " You are right. He has consecrated all his time 
 and all his thoughts to the study and practice of his 
 art. A more austere life cannot be conceived ; he has 
 indulged in no pleasures, granted nothing to his 
 senses, and certainly this great restriction of all com 
 mon enjoyments does not proceed from religious 
 scruples. The doctor believes in nothing but atoms, 
 but he is ascetic by taste. You know the admir 
 able definition which Voltaire gave of love, a 
 fabric of nature, which imagination has embroid 
 ered ! Vladimir Paulitch is unprovided with this 
 imagination which embellishes with embroidery, and 
 on the other hand, the plain fabric excites his con 
 tempt. I mean to say that he disdains voluptuous 
 ness from intellectual pride. So this fearful infidel, 
 who holds morality to be a chimera and lives in 
 abstinence, you can consider either a libertine with 
 out vices or a saint without principles. Ah, he s a 
 singular character." 
 
 " According to what you say," remarked Gilbert, 
 "his virtue is but an accident." 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 175 
 
 " Are you quite sure that virtue is ever anything 
 else ? " retorted M. Leminof. 
 
 The night having come, Gilbert, who had inquiries 
 to make, crossed the yard of which the chapel formed 
 one side, and gaining the rear by a private door, went 
 in search of father Alexis. It was not long before he 
 discovered him, for the priest had left his shutters 
 open, and he was seated in the embrasure of the win 
 dow, peaceably smoking his pipe, when he perceived 
 Gilbert. 
 
 " Oh, the good boy ! " cried he, " let him come in 
 quickly ! My room and my heart are open to him." 
 
 Gilbert showed him his arm in the sling on ac 
 count of which he could not climb the window. 
 
 " Is that all, my child ? " said father Alexis. " I 
 will hoist you up here." 
 
 Gilbert raised himself by his right arm, and father 
 Alexis drawing him up, they soon found themselves 
 seated face to face uniting to their heart s content the 
 blue smoke of their chibouques. 
 
 "Have you not noticed," said father Alexis, "that 
 Kostia Petrovitch has been in a charming humor to 
 day ? I told you that he had his pleasant moments ! 
 Vladimir Paulitch has already done him much good. 
 What a physician this Vladimir is ! It is a great pity 
 that he does not believe in God ; but some day, per 
 haps, grace will touch his heart, and then he will be 
 a complete man. 
 
 " If I were in your place, father, I should be afraid 
 of this Vladimir," said Gilbert. " Ivan pretends that 
 he is something of a sorcerer. Aren t you afraid that 
 some fine day he may rob you of your secret ? " 
 
 Father Alexis shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Ivan talks foolishly," said he. "If Vladimir 
 Paulitch were a sorcerer, would he not have long 
 since penetrated the mystery which he burns to 
 fathom ? fo r he does more than love Count Kostia; he 
 is devoted to him even to fanaticism. It is certain 
 that having discovered that the Countess Olga was 
 
176 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 enceinte, he had the barbarity to become her de 
 nouncer; and that letter which announced to Count 
 Kostia his dishonor, that letter which made him re 
 turn from Paris like a thunder-clap, that letter in 
 short which caused the death of Olga Vassilievna, was 
 written by him Vladimir Paulitch." 
 
 " And Morlof," said Gilbert, " was it this Vladi 
 mir who denounced him to the unjust fury of the 
 Count ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, Vladimir pleaded his cause ; 
 but his eloquence failed against the blind prejudices 
 of Kostia Petrovitch. This Morlof was, unfortunate 
 ly for himself, a fashionable gentleman well known 
 for his gallantries. A man of honor, however, inca 
 pable of betraying a friend ; this reputation for gallant 
 success, of which he boasted, was his destruction. 
 When Count Kostia interrogated his wife, and she 
 refused to denounce her seducer, it occurred to him 
 to name Morlof, and the energy with which she de 
 fended him, confirmed the Count s suspicions. To 
 disabuse him, it needed but that tragic meeting of 
 which I was informed too late. In breathing his last 
 sigh, Morlof extended his hand to his murderer and 
 gasped I die innocent! And in these last words of 
 a dying man, there was such an accent of truth that 
 Count Kostia could not resist it : light broke in upon 
 his soul." 
 
 As the darkness increased, father Alexis closed 
 the shutters and lit a candle. 
 
 " My child," said he, refilling and lighting his pipe, 
 " I must tell you something I learned to-day, a few 
 moments before dinner, which appeared to me very 
 strange. Listen attentively, and I am sure you will 
 share in my astonishment." 
 
 Gilbert opened his ears, for he had a presentiment 
 that father Alexis was about to speak of Stephane. 
 
 " It is a singular fact," resumed the priest, " and 
 one that I should not wish to relate to the first-comer, 
 but I am very glad to impart it to you, because you 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 177 
 
 have a serious and reflective mind, though unfortu 
 nately you are not orthodox ; would to God you were. 
 Know then, my child, that to-day, Saturday, I went 
 according to my custom to Stephana to catechize him, 
 and for reasons which you know, I redoubled my ef 
 forts to impress his unruly head with the holy truths 
 of our faith. Now it appears that without intending 
 it, you have caused him sorrow ; and you can believe 
 that such a character, far from having pardoned. you, 
 has taken the greatest pains to get me to espouse his 
 side in the difficulty. However, he who will usually 
 fly into a passion and talk fiercely if a fly tickles 
 him, recited his griefs to me with an air of modera 
 tion and a tranquility of tone which astonished me to 
 the last degree. As I endeavored to discover a rea 
 son for this, I happened to raise my eyes to the 
 images of St. George and St. Sergius which decorate 
 one of the corners of his room, and before which he 
 was in the habit of saying his prayers every morning. 
 What was my surprise, my grief, when I perceived 
 that the two saints had suffered shameful outrages. 
 One had no legs, the other was disfigured by a hor 
 rible scar. Holy Virgin ! cried I with a trembling 
 voice, * who has had the audacity to lift a profane 
 hand to these venerated images ? But he answered, 
 smiling : The culprit is here, father. It was I who 
 the other day, in a paroxysm of righteous anger, 
 switched these two saints unmercifully to punish them 
 for not coining to my aid. How can I describe to 
 you my astonishment ? My arms dropped, a cold 
 sweat came on my forehead, and my tongue failed me. 
 I knew not what to say what to think. When I re 
 covered from the shock, burning with indignation, I 
 could not find words strong enough to show to this 
 impious youth the enormity of his crime. Whip St. 
 George ! whip St. Sergius ! What a sacrilege ! what a 
 crime ! Ah ! my child, these were two of my finest 
 works. But can you believe it, Stephane did not ap 
 pear to manifest the slightest contrition ? His impas- 
 12 
 
178 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 sible coolness exasperated me. With hands raised to 
 Heaven, I threatened him with the thunder of God. 
 Without being excited, without changing countenance, 
 he left his chair, came to me and placed his hand on 
 my mouth. Father, said he, with an air of assur 
 ance which awed me, l listen to me. I have been 
 wrong, if you wish it so, and still, under the same cir 
 cumstances, I should do it again, for since I have 
 chastised them, the two saints have decided to come 
 to my aid, and the very day after their punishment, 
 without any change in my life, all at once I felt my 
 heart become lighter; for the first time, I swear to you, 
 a ray of celestial hope penetrated my soul. What do 
 you say to that, my child ? I had often heard similar 
 things related, but I did not believe them. Little boys 
 may be whipped, but as for saints ! Ah ! my dear 
 child, the ways of God are very strange, and there are 
 many great mysteries in this world." 
 
 Father Alexis had such an impressive air in speak 
 ing of this great mystery, that Gilbert was tempted to 
 laugh; but he controlled himself; he was too grateful 
 for his obliging narrative, and could have embraced 
 him with all his heart. 
 
 " Good news ! " said he to himself. " That heart has 
 become lighter ; that ray of celestial hope. Ah ! 
 God be praised, my effort has not been thrown away. 
 St. George, St. Sergius, you rob me of my glory, but 
 what matters it ? I am content ! " 
 
 " And what reply did you make to Stephane ? " 
 said he to the priest. " Did you reprimand him ? 
 Did you congratulate him ? " 
 
 "The case was delicate," said the good father, 
 with the air of a philosopher meditating on the most 
 abstruse subject ; " but I am not wanting in judgment, 
 and I drew out of the affair with honor." 
 
 "You managed admirably," cried I, looking at 
 him with admiration ; then immediately putting on a 
 serious face, " but the sin is enormous." 
 
 The third day after, Gilbert didn t wait for the bell 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 to ring for dinner before going down to the great 
 hall. He was not very much surprised to find Ste- 
 phane there. Leaning with his back against the side 
 board, the young man, on seeing him appear, lost his 
 composure, blushed, and turned his head towards the 
 wall. Gilbert stopped a few steps from him. Then 
 in an agitated manner, and with a voice at once gen 
 tle and abrupt, he said : 
 
 " And your arm ? " 
 
 " It is nearly well. To-morrow I shall take off my 
 sling." 
 
 Stephane was silent for a moment. Then in a 
 still lower voice : 
 
 "What do you mean to do?" murmured he; 
 " what are your plans ? " 
 
 " I wait to know your good pleasure," replied Gil 
 bert. 
 
 The young man covered his eyes with both hands, 
 and, as Gilbert said no more, he seemed to feel a thrill 
 of impatience and vexation. 
 
 " His pride demands some mercy," thought Gil 
 bert. " I will spare him the mortification of making 
 the first advances." 
 
 " I should like very much to have a conversation 
 with you," said he gently. "This cannot be upon 
 the terrace, Ivan will not leave you alone there. Does 
 he keep you company in your room in the eve 
 ning? " 
 
 "Are you jesting ?" answered Stephane, raising 
 his head. " After nine o clock Ivan never comes 
 near my room." 
 
 " And his room, if I am not mistaken," answered 
 Gilbert, " is separated from you by a corridor and a 
 staircase. So we shall run no risk of being over 
 heard." 
 
 Stephane turned towards him and looked him in 
 the face. 
 
 " You think of everything," said he, with a smile 
 sad and ironical. " Apparently, to reach me, you 
 
1 80 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 will be obliged to mount a swallow. Have you made 
 your arrangements with one ? " 
 
 " I shall come over the roofs," said Gilbert 
 quietly. 
 
 " Impossible ! " cried Stephane. " In the first 
 place, I do not wish you to risk your life for me again. 
 And then- 
 
 " And then you do not care for my visit ? " 
 
 Stephane only answered him by a look. 
 
 At this moment steps sounded in the vestibule. 
 When the Count entered, Gilbert was pacing the 
 further end of the hall, and Stephane, with his back 
 turned, was attentively observing one of the carved 
 figures upon the wainscoting. M. Leminof, stopping 
 at the threshold of the door, looked at them both 
 with a quizzical air. 
 
 " It was time for me to arrive," said he laughing. 
 "This is an embarrassing tcte-a-ttc" 
 
 The following day Gilbert left for Frankfort. A 
 bookseller of that city had just sent to M. Leminof a 
 catalogue of old books, among which they found the 
 glossary of the Grfdte Byzantine, by I)u Cange, a 
 standard work of which the Count possessed but a 
 blemished and incomplete copy. Gilbert persuaded 
 him to send him at once to secure this prize. He ar 
 rived at Frankfort that evening. The next day his 
 first task was to find a rope-maker, of whom he or 
 dered two rope ladders, giving him the measures. 
 The rest of the day was devoted to the purchase of 
 books. He not only secured the glossary, but as he 
 was a great connoisseur in curious literature, in rum 
 maging the shop of an antiquary, he found treasures 
 with which he was delighted. He was not less pleased 
 wh?n, in the evening, they sent him the two ladders 
 he had ordered. He hid them in the bottom of his 
 trunk, and the next day renewed the search for old 
 books. During the hunt, he saw in front of a shoe 
 maker s shop a pair of shoes with felt soles admir 
 able contrivances to avoid slipping ! The shoes fitted 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. igl 
 
 him, and he bought them without hesitation. He 
 purchased also a girdle, a soft, broad-brimmed hat, 
 a pair of thick pantaloons, and a red woollen shirt. 
 
 The following Saturday, towards noon, he returned 
 to Geierfels. He hoped to be able to exchange a few 
 words with Stephane before dinner ; but the Count 
 came into the hall before his son. Fortunately, at the 
 end of the dinner, he rose from the table to fetch a 
 bottle of Tokay from a closet to drink to the return 
 of his secretary. While his back was turned, and he 
 was occupied in searching for the bottle and uncork 
 ing it, Gilbert made a sign which attracted Stephane s 
 attention, and immediately traced some letters upon 
 the table-cloth with the handle of his knife. These 
 letters were : " This evening" 
 
 During the remainder of the meal Stephane s 
 manner was excited. He changed color every mo 
 ment, and was the first to leave the table, giving, as 
 he turned, a look at Gilbert which betrayed the tu 
 mult of his thoughts. Then he disappeared. 
 
 " He still regrets his big dog," said the Count 
 sneeringly. " The passions of Monsieur my son are 
 decidedly very interesting." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT about ten o clock Gilbert began to make pre 
 parations for his expedition. He had no fear of being 
 surprised; his evenings were his own that was a 
 point agreed upon between the Count and himself. 
 He had also just heard the great door of the corridor 
 roll upon its hinges. On the side of the terrace the 
 thick branches of the trees concealed him from the 
 watch dogs who, had they suspected the adventure, 
 could have given the alarm. There was nothing to 
 
1 8 2 CO UNT KOSTIA. 
 
 fear from the hillock below the precipice ; it was fre 
 quented only by the young girl who tended the goats 
 and who was not in the habit of allowing them to 
 roam so late among the rocks. Besides, the night, 
 serene and without a moon, was propitious ; no 
 other light than the discreet glistening of the stars, 
 which would help to guide him, without being bright 
 enough to betray or disturb him ; the air was calm, a 
 scarcely perceptible breeze stirred at intervals the 
 leaves of the trees without agitating the branches. 
 Thanks to this combination of favorable circumstan 
 ces, Gilbert s enterprise was not desperate ; but he 
 did not dream of deceiving himself in regard to its 
 dangers. 
 
 The castle clock had just struck ten when he ex 
 tinguished his lamp and opened the window. There 
 he remained a long time leaning upon his elbows : 
 his eyes at last familiarized themselves with the dark 
 ness, and favored by the glimmering of the stars, he 
 began to recognize with but little effort the actual 
 shape of the surrounding objects. The window was 
 divided in two equal parts by a stone mullion, and 
 had in front a wide shelf of basalt, surrounded by a 
 balustrade. Gilbert fastened one of his rope ladders 
 securely to the mullion and one of the balusters on 
 the left side ; then he crept upon the ledge of 
 basalt and stood there for a few moments contempla 
 ting the precipice in silence. In the gloomy and va 
 porous gulf which his eyes explored, he distinguished 
 a wall of whitish rocks, which seemed to draw him 
 towards them, and to provoke him to an aerial voy 
 age. He took care not to abandon himself to this 
 fatal attraction, and the uneasiness which it caused 
 him disappearing gradually, he stretched out his 
 head and was able to hang over the abyss with impu 
 nity. Proud at having subdued the monster, he gave 
 himself up for a moment lo the pleasure of gazing at 
 a feeble light which appeared at a distance of sixty 
 paces, and some thirty feet beneath him. This light 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 183 
 
 came from Stephane s room; he had opened his 
 window and closed the white curtains in such a way 
 that his lamp, placed behind this transparent screen, 
 could serve as a beacon to Gilbert without danger of 
 dazzling him. 
 
 " I am expected." said Gilbert to himself. 
 
 And immediately, bestriding the balustrade, he 
 descended the trembling ladder with a step as light 
 and firm as if he had never done any thing else in his 
 life. 
 
 He was now upon the roof. There he met with 
 more difficulty. Partly covered with zinc and partly 
 with slate, this roof the whole length of which he 
 must traverse was so steep and slippery that no one 
 could stand erect on it. Gilbert seated himself and 
 remained motionless for a moment to recover him 
 self, and the better to decide upon his course. A 
 few steps from this point, a huge dormer window 
 rose, with triangular panes of glass, and reached to 
 within two feet of the spout. Gilbert resolved to make 
 his way by this narrow pass, and from tile to tile he 
 pushed himself in that direction. It will readily be 
 believed that he advanced but slowly, much more so 
 on account of his left arm, which, as it still pained 
 him, required to be carefully managed ; but by dint 
 of patience and perseverance he passed beyond the 
 dormer window, and at length arrived safely at the 
 extremity of the roof, just in front of Stephane s win 
 dow. 
 
 " God be praised, the most difficult part is over," 
 he said to himself, breathing freely. 
 
 But he was far from correct in his supposition. 
 It is true he had now only to descend upon the little 
 roof, cross it, and climb to the window, which was but 
 breast high ; but before descending it was necessary 
 to find some support stone, wood or iron, to which 
 he could fasten the second rope ladder, which he had 
 brought wound about his neck, shoulders and waist. 
 Unfortunately he discovered nothing. At last, in lean- 
 
1 84 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ing over, he perceived at the outer angle of the wall 
 a large iron corbel, which seemed to sustain the pro 
 jecting roof; but to his great chagrin, he ascertained 
 at the same time, that the great roof passed three feet 
 beyond the line of the small one, and that if even he 
 should succeed in attaching his ladder to the corbel, 
 the last rounds would float in empty space. This re 
 flection made him shudder; and turning his eyes from 
 the precipice, he examined the ridge-pole, where he 
 thought he saw a piece of iron projecting. He was 
 not mistaken : it was a kind of ornamental moulding, 
 which formed the pediment of the ridge. It was not 
 without great effort that he raised himself even there, 
 and when he found himself seated astride the beam, 
 he rested a few moments to breathe, and to study the 
 strange spectacle before him. His view embraced an 
 immense extent of abrupt, irregular roofing, from 
 every part of which rose turrets of every kind, in the 
 shape of extinguishers, pointed gables, comers, re 
 treating or salient angles, bell-towers, open to the 
 daylight, profound depths where the gloom thickened, 
 grinning chimneys, heavy weathercocks cutting the 
 milky way with their iron rods and feathered arrows ; 
 from the top of the chapel steeple a great cross of stone, 
 seeming to stretch out its arms ; here and there the 
 whitish zinc, cutting the dark blue of the slates ; in 
 spots an indistinct glittering and flashes of pale light 
 enveloped in opaque shadows, and then the tops of 
 three or four large trees which extended beyond the 
 eaves, as if prying into the secrets of the attic. By 
 the glittering light of the stars, the slightest peculiar 
 ity in the architecture assumed singular contours, fan 
 tastic figures were profiled upon the horizon like 
 Chinese shadows ; everywhere an air of mystery, of 
 curiosity, of wild surprise. All these shadows leaned 
 towards Gilbert, examined him and interrogated him 
 by their looks. 
 
 Some said, " Who is this person ? Assuredly he 
 is not one of us. What is he doing here ? It can 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 185 
 
 only be a bold thief who is about to pick the window 
 fastenings and break open a secretary." 
 
 " Let him alone," said the others. " Don t you see 
 it is a lover who is in luck ? His mistress expects 
 him, and if he don t break his neck first, the propi 
 tious hour will strike for him." 
 
 " I am nothing of the. kind," replied Gilbert. " I 
 am only a poor bookworm who has suddenly con 
 ceived the idea of scrambling over the roof to reani 
 mate a child dying of sadness and isolation. Besides, 
 take my word for it, I m more astonished at my ad 
 venture than you are." 
 
 After this dumb colloquy, he looked back to the 
 precipice, enjoyed the pleasure of contemplating the 
 dull white waters of the Rhine, glimpses of which he 
 caught here and there winding through the plain in 
 undulating circles like an enormous serpent with glis 
 tening scales ; for a moment he listened to its noisy, 
 dull rumbling, which seemed to reproach the watch 
 dogs, the owls, the winds and the sleepy weathercocks 
 for their silence. 
 
 When he had recovered breath, Gilbert approached 
 the projecting ornament from which he proposed to 
 suspend his ladder ; he had been greatly deceived ; 
 he found that this ovolo of sheet iron, for a long time 
 roughly used by the elements, held only by a wretched 
 nail, and that it would inevitably yield to the least 
 strain." 
 
 " It is decided," said he. " I must go by the iron 
 corbel !" And although it cost him an effort, his mind 
 was soon resolutely fixed. Impatient at the loss of 
 so many steps and at the waste of so much precious 
 time in vain efforts, he redescended the roof much 
 more actively than he had mounted it. Arriving be 
 low, and by the power of his will conquering a new 
 attack of vertigo with which he felt himself threat 
 ened, he lay clown upon his face parallel with the 
 spout, and advancing his head and arm beyond the 
 roof he succeeded, not without much trouble, in ty- 
 
1 86 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ing the cord firmly to the iron corbel. This done, he 
 launched the ladder into space, and without loitering 
 to see it float, he swung himself slowly round, by de 
 grees turning his head from the side of the roof and 
 his feet to the side of the ladder ; when he was com 
 pletely turned, he let himself glide outside of the 
 roof up to the armpits, thus resting suspended by the 
 elbows. Critical moment ! If but a lath, but a nail 
 should break He had no time to make this alarm 
 ing reflection; he was too much occupied in drawing 
 towards him with his feet the ladder which kept slip 
 ping away, and when at length he succeeded in plant 
 ing them upon one of the upper rounds, detaching 
 his left arm from the roof, he seized the corbel firmly, 
 and soon after, his right hand removing itself in its 
 turn, grasped one of the upright cords of the ladder. 
 
 " That s not bad for a beginner," thought he. 
 
 He then began to descend, giving careful atten 
 tion to every movement. But at the moment when 
 his feet had reached the level of the small roof, hav 
 ing had the imprudence to look down into the space 
 beneath him, he was suddenly seized with a dizziness 
 a thousand times more terrible than he had already 
 experienced. The whole valley began to be agitated, 
 and rolled and pitched terribly. By turns it seemed 
 to rise to the sky or sink into the bowels of the earth. 
 Presently the motion was accelerated, trees and stones, 
 mountains and plains were all confounded in one 
 black whirlwind, which struggled with increasing fury, 
 and from which came forth flashes of lightning and 
 balls of fire. Suddenly it seemed to him that his breath 
 failed him. He closed his eyes, a stifled cry escaped 
 from his panting breast. It was all over, the whirl 
 wind had struck him and was carrying him into space. 
 He lost consciousness for a few seconds; what was 
 his surprise upon reopening his eyes, to find himself 
 still upon his ladder. He had clung to it with such 
 strength that his nails were buried deeply in the 
 rope, and he had seized one of the upper rounds be- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 187 
 
 tween his teeth, which were so fastened in it that he 
 withdrew them with difficulty. He looked down upon 
 the valley ; it had become motionless. He raised his 
 eyes to the firmament, from which the stars looked at 
 him encouragingly. He passed his tongue over his 
 feverish lips, breathing with free lungs the night air, 
 which seemed to be perfumed. Tears of joy escaped 
 from his eyes, and in artless rapture, he tenderly 
 kissed the ladder which he had just attacked with his 
 teeth. Restored to himself, to dispel the emotion 
 which the remembrance of his frightful nightmare 
 caused him, he had recourse to old Homer, and recited 
 in one breath that passage of the Iliad where the di 
 vine bard describes the joy of a herdsman contem 
 plating the stars from a craggy height. Gilbert never, 
 in after life, read these verses without recalling the 
 sweet but terrible moment when he recited them sus 
 pended in mid-air ; above his head the infinite smile 
 of starry fields, and under his feet the horrors of a 
 precipice. As soon as- he felt more calm, he com 
 menced the task of effecting his descent upon the 
 small roof, less steep than the other, and covered with 
 hollow tiles which left deep grooves between them. 
 To crown his good fortune, the spout was surmounted 
 from place to place by iron ornaments imbedded in 
 the wall and rolled up in the form of scrolls. Gilbert 
 imparted an oscillating motion to the ladder, and when 
 it had become strong enough to make this improvised 
 swing graze the gutter, choosing his time well, he 
 disengaged his right foot and planted it firmly in one 
 of the grooves, loosening at the same time his right 
 hand from the ladder and quickly seizing one of the 
 scrolls. A moment after, the ladder left to itself, re 
 turned to its place. Midnight sounded, and Gilbert 
 was astonished to find that he had spent two hours 
 upon his adventurous excursion. To mount the roof 
 halfway, cross it, and climb into the window was but 
 a slight affair, after which, turning the curtains aside 
 with his hand, he called in a soft voice : " Am I 
 
1 88 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 expected ? " and leaped with a bound into the 
 room. 
 
 With his chin upon his knees and his head buried 
 in his hands, Stephane was crouching at the feet of 
 the holy images. Hearing and perceiving Gilbert, he 
 started, raised himself quickly and remained motion 
 less, his hands crossed above his head, his neck ex 
 tended, his lips quivering and opening with a smile, 
 lightnings and tears in his eyes. How paint the 
 strangeness of his countenance ? A thousand di 
 verse emotions betrayed themselves there. Surprise, 
 gratitude, shame, anxiety, long expectation at last 
 satisfied; a remnant of haughtiness which felt its de 
 feat certain ; an obstinate incredulity forced to sur 
 render; the disorder of an imagination, enchanted, 
 rapt, distracted, the delights of hope and the bitter 
 ness of memory ; all these appeared upon his face, 
 and formed a melange so confused that to see him 
 thus laughing and crying at once, it seemed as if it 
 was his joy which wept and his sadness which smiled. 
 His first agitation dispelled, the predominating ex 
 pression of his face was a dreamy and startled sweet 
 ness. He moved backwards from Gilbert and fell 
 upon a chair at the end of the room. 
 
 " Do I intrude ? Must I go away ? " asked Gil 
 bert, still standing. Stephane made no answer. 
 
 " Evidently my face does not please you," con 
 tinued Gilbert, half turning towards the window. 
 
 Stephane contracted his brows. 
 
 " Do not trifle, I beg of you," said he, in a hollow 
 voice. " We have serious matters between us to dis 
 cuss." 
 
 " The seriousness which I prefer, is that of joy." 
 
 Stephane passed his thin and taper hands nerv 
 ously through his hair. 
 
 " Joy ?" said he. " It will come, perhaps, in its time, 
 through speaking to me about it, who knows ? Now 
 I seem to be dreaming. The disorder of my thoughts 
 frightens me. Ask me no questions, for I should not 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 189 
 
 know how to answer you. And then the sound of my 
 voice mortifies me, irritates me. It is like a discord 
 in music. Let me be silent and look at you." 
 
 And approaching a long table which stood in the 
 middle of the room, he signalled to Gilbert to place 
 himself at one side of it and seated himself at the 
 other. 
 
 After a long silence, he began to express his 
 thoughts audibly, as if he had become reconciled to 
 the sound of his voice : 
 
 " This bold, resolute air, so much pride in the 
 look, so much goodness in the smile. It is another 
 man. Ah! into what contempt have I fallen. I have 
 seen nothing, divined nothing. I despised him, I 
 hated him, this one whom God has sent" to save me 
 from despair. See what was concealed under this 
 simple unaffected air ; this serene face, whose calm 
 ness irritated me ; this gentleness which seemed ser 
 vile, this wisdom which I thought pedantry ; this pli 
 ancy of disposition which I took for the meanness of 
 a crouching dog. All this ! can it really be the same 
 man ? He was silent for a moment and then contin 
 ued in a more assured voice : 
 
 u How did you manage to reach here ? Ah ! my 
 God ! that great roof is so steep ! Only to think of it 
 makes me shudder and sets my head to whirling. 
 While waiting I prayed to the saints for you. Did 
 you feel their aid ? I should like to know whether 
 they stood by me in this. They have so often broken 
 faith." 
 
 Silence again, during which Stephane looked at 
 Gilbert with a steadiness sufficient to disconcert him. 
 
 " So you have risked your life for me !" contin 
 ued the young man ; " but are you quite sure that I 
 am worth the trouble ? Come now, be frank. Has any 
 one spoken to you of me ? Or have you, by study 
 ing my character, made some interesting discovery. 
 Answer, and be careful not to lie. My eyes are upon 
 you, they will readily discover if you are sincere." 
 
IQO COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " Really you astonish me," answered Gilbert, 
 tranquilly ; " and what can I have to conceal from 
 you ? All I know resolves itself into two points. In 
 the first place, I know that you belong to the race, 
 to the brotherhood of noble souls ; I know, besides, 
 that you are very unhappy. Pardon me, I know an 
 other thing still. I know beyond a doubt that I have 
 conceived a lively and tender friendship for you, and 
 that I should be very unhappy too if I could not ex 
 pect any return from you." 
 
 " You feel friendship for me ? How can that 
 be ? " 
 
 " Ah ! a strange question ! Who has ever been 
 able to answer it ? It is the mystery of mysteries. I 
 love you, because I love you: I know of no other ex 
 planation. You have certainly never made any very 
 nattering advances to me, I think I have sometimes 
 even had cause to complain of you. 
 
 " Ah, well ! in spite of your scorn, of your haugh 
 tiness, of your injustice, I loved you. Ask the secret 
 of this anomaly of Him who created man, and who 
 planted in his heart that mysterious power which is 
 called sympathy." 
 
 " Why," said Stephane, " was not this sympathy 
 reciprocal ? As for me, from the first day I saw you 
 I hated you. I do not know with what eyes I looked 
 at you, but I thought that I recognized an enemy. 
 Alas ! suspicion and distrust invaded my heart long 
 ago. And mark, even at this moment I still doubt, I 
 fear I may be the dupe of some illusion : I believe 
 and I do not believe, and I am tempted to exclaim 
 with one of the Holy Evangelists, My patron, my 
 brother, my friend, I believe, help thou mine unbe 
 lief!" 
 
 " Your incredulity will cure itself, and be sure, a 
 day will come when you will say with confidence : 
 there is in this world a soul, sister of my own, into 
 which I can fearlessly pour all my cares, all my 
 thoughts, all my sorrows and all my hopes. There is 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 19 1 
 
 one who occupies himself unceasingly about me, to 
 whom my happiness is of great moment, of supreme 
 interest, a being to whom I can say all, confess all ; 
 a being who loves me because he knows me, and who 
 knows me because he loves me; a being who sees 
 with me, who sees in me, and who would not hesi 
 tate, if necessary, to sacrifice everything, even his 
 life, upon the holy altar of friendship. And then 
 would you not cry out in the joy of your heart : God 
 be praised ! I possess a friend ! By the blessing of 
 God I have learned what it is to love and to be 
 loved." 
 
 Stephane began to weep : 
 
 " To be loved ! " said he. " It is a great word and 
 I hardly dare to pronounce it. To be loved ! I have 
 never been. I believe though, that my mother loved 
 me, what do I say ? I am sure of it, but it was a 
 long time ago. My mother, it is like a legend to me. 
 It seems to me I was not born when I knew her. I 
 remember that she often took me upon her knees 
 and covered me with kisses. Such joys are not of 
 this world ; I must have tasted them in some distant 
 star, whe/e hearts are less hard than here, and where 
 I lived some time, a sojourn of peace and innocence. 
 But one day my mother dropped me from her arms, 
 and I was thrown upon this earth where hatred ex 
 pected me and received me in her bosom. Oh ! ha 
 tred, I know her ! This second mother cradled me 
 in her arms*, nourished me with her milk, lavished 
 upon me her careful lessons and watched over me 
 night and day. Ah ! hatred is a marvellous provi 
 dence. It sees everything, thinks of everything, no 
 tices everything, is omnipresent, always on the alert, 
 unconscious of fatigue, ennui or sleep. Hatred ! she 
 is the mistress of this castle, she governs it ; these 
 great corridors are full her. I cannot take a step 
 without meeting her ; even here in this solitary room 
 I see her image floating upon the panelling, upon the 
 tapestry, about the curtains of this bed, and often at 
 
1 92 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 night, in my sleep, she comes and sits upon my breast 
 and peoples my dreams with spectres and terrors. 
 To be hated without knowing wherefore, what tor 
 ment ! And remember too, that in my early infancy, 
 this father who hates me was then a father to me. 
 He rarely caressed me and I feared him; he was 
 imperious and severe ; but he was a father after all, 
 and occasionally he took the trouble to tell us so. 
 Often in our presence his gravity relaxed, and I rec 
 ollect that he sometimes smiled upon me. But one 
 day, a cursed day, I was then ten years old ; my 
 mother had been dead a month. He was shut up in 
 his room while a week passed, during which I did not 
 see him. I said to my governess : I want to see my 
 father. I knocked at his door, entered and ran to 
 him. He repelled me with such violence that I fell 
 and struck my head against the leg of a chair. I got 
 up. bleeding, and he looked at me with scorn, laughed 
 and left the room. My mind wandered, all my ideas 
 were thrown into confusion ; I thought the sun had 
 gone out and that the world had come to an end. A 
 father who could laugh at the sight of the blood gush 
 ing from his child ! And what a laugh ! He has 
 made me hear it often since, but I have not been able 
 to accustom myself to it yet. A fever attacked me, 
 and I became delirious. They put me to bed, and I 
 cried to those who took care of me : I arn cold, I 
 am cold, make me warm. And in that icy body I 
 felt a heart that seemed on fire, which consumed it 
 self. I could have sworn that a red-hot iron had been 
 passed into it." 
 
 Stephane dried his tears with a curl of his hair, 
 and then leaning with his elbows upon the table, he 
 resumed in a feeble voice : " I do not want you to be 
 deceived. You entertain friendship for me and you 
 ask a return ; that is very simple, friendship lives by 
 exchange. If I had nothing to give you, you would 
 soon cease to love me. Listen to me then. Yester 
 day, for the first time in my life, I went into myself, 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 193 
 
 a singular fancy, which you alone have been able to 
 inspire in me ; for the first time I examined myself 
 seriously, I laid hold of my heart with both hands, 
 and examined it as a physician does his patient ; I 
 carried my researches even to the very bottom, and I 
 recognized there a strange barrenness and blight, 
 which frightened me. It has been suffering a long 
 time, this poor heart \ but within a year a fearful 
 crisis has passed within me, which has killed it. And 
 now there is nothing in this breast but a handful of 
 cold ashes, good for nothing but to be thrown out of 
 the window and scattered in the air." 
 
 " What ! you are orthodox, - said Gilbert, in a tone 
 of authority ; " you believe in the saints after your 
 own fashion, and nevertheless you have yet to learn 
 that death is but a word, or better, a respite, a pause 
 in life, a fallow time followed by fresh harvests. You 
 are ignorant of the fact, or you forget, that there are 
 no ashes so cold but that when the wind of the spirit 
 breathes upon them, they will be seen to start, rise 
 up and walk. You have left to me the care of teach 
 ing you that your soul is capable of rejuvenescence, 
 of unexpected regeneration ; that upon the sole con 
 dition that you wish and desire it, you will feel un 
 known powers awakened in your breast, and that 
 without changing your nature, but by transforming 
 yourself from day to day, you will become to yourself 
 an eternal novelty ! " 
 
 Stephane looked at him smiling. 
 
 " So you have crossed the roofs to come and 
 preach conversion to me, like father Alexis ! " 
 
 " Conversion ! I don t know. I don t undertake to 
 work miracles ; but the metamorphosis " 
 
 "Oh! yes, the metamorphosis of plants," ex 
 claimed Stephane in a tone of caressing irony; 
 " perhaps you have even brought the book." 
 
 " It is really a question of books One day I 
 bought of a seed merchant, a poor root of sorry ap 
 pearance, a yellowish bulb, covered with overlapping 
 13 
 
IQ4 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 scales, which rustled under my fingers like dead 
 leaves. On reaching home, I took this bulb in my 
 hands and said to it : * Thou shalt be a lily, and it 
 replied : What folly ! All in me is withered, dried 
 up. Look at me well, thou wilt see that I am dead. 
 * Leave it to me cried I ; I will implore the aid of the 
 elementary powers. I will say to Heaven, give it to 
 drink; to the earth, nourish it with thy juices. I will 
 say to the sun, warm it with thy rays. And so this 
 poor plant, which believes itself dead, shall be resus 
 citated, shall pierce the stone of its tomb, shall live, 
 shall grow, and the glory of its efflorescence shall daz 
 zle my eyes. ... I said truly. This dull root, buried by 
 me in the bosom of the earth, felt itself moved with a 
 pang of non-existence, with a confused desire to live ; 
 and this desire, this pang became a soul ; this soul 
 took life and this life entered into the divine cycle of 
 its metamorphoses. At the same time unchangeable 
 and diverse, gathering itself within itself, or expand 
 ing itself at the will of the throbbings of a mysteri 
 ous fever, it comes to light in the shape of long, quiv 
 ering leaves, then darts towards the sky a thin, delicate 
 stem ; and this stem expanding at the top, crowns 
 itself with a silver diadem, displaying to view a daz 
 zling flower, whose perfume the breezes inhale with 
 delight. Listen to me then, oh ! my beautiful, pure 
 lily ! Believe in the nourishing juices of the earth, in 
 the refreshing dews of heaven ; above all, believe in 
 the splendors of the sun. In this breast, in this 
 heart which loves you, I bring you a ray of this all 
 powerful sunlight. Oh ! drink in long draughts of 
 the light and heat, and some day you also will bloom, 
 I swear it to you, under the eyes of eternal good 
 ness." 
 
 Stephane began to weep again. 
 
 " I do not know if you speak truth," murmured 
 he ; " but your manner, your voice, your looks, your 
 looks above all ! " 
 
 Then repressing his tears : 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 1 95 
 
 " You speak to me much of my soul ; but my life, 
 my destiny, will you also find the secret of transform 
 ing them ? " 
 
 " That secret we will seek together. I have al 
 ready some light upon it. Only let us not press 
 it. Before undertaking that great work, it is essen 
 tial that your heart should recover its health and 
 strength." 
 
 " Ingrate that I am ! " cried Stephane. " My des 
 tiny ! it has changed from to-day. Yes, from this mo 
 ment I am no longer alone in the world. Frightful 
 void in which I consumed myself, despair who with 
 your frightful wings made it night for an abandoned 
 child, it is all over now, I am delivered from you ; 
 the instrument of torture is broken. Henceforth, I 
 believe, I hope, I breathe ! But think of it my friend, 
 for me to live, will be to see you, to hear you, to speak 
 to you. Could you come here often ? : 
 
 " As often as prudence will permit, two or three 
 times a week. We will choose our days well ; we 
 will consult the sky, the wind, the stars. On other 
 days, at propitious hours, we will place ourselves at our 
 windows, and communicate by signs which we will 
 agree upon, for it seems that you, like me, are long 
 sighted. And besides, I know the sign language. I 
 will teach it to you, and if you ever send me such a 
 message as this upon your fingers : * I am sad, I am 
 sick, come this evening at any risk Well, whatever 
 the winds and stars may say " 
 
 " Great God ! interrupted Stephane," to expose 
 your life foolishly ! I will rather die. Curses upon 
 me if ever by a caprice But away with such a 
 thought ! And how long, if you please, will this 
 happiness, which you promise me, last ? Some day, 
 alas ! retaking your liberty " 
 
 " I have two, perhaps three years to pass here ; 
 it will even depend upon me whether I stay longer or 
 not. Whatever happens, be assured, that before I 
 leave this house, your destiny will have changed. I 
 
196 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 have told you to believe in the sun ; believe also in 
 the unforeseen." 
 
 " The unforeseen ! " exclaimed Stephane, " I be 
 lieve in him, since I have seen him enter here by the 
 window." 
 
 And suddenly carrying his hand to his heart, he 
 closed his eyes, became pale and uttered a piteous 
 moan. Gilbert sprang towards him ; but repulsing 
 him gently : 
 
 "Fear nothing," said he ; "joy has come, I feel 
 it there, it burns me. Let me enjoy a suffering so 
 new and so sweet." He remained some minutes with 
 his eyes closed ; then re-opening them, and shaking 
 his beautiful head with its long curls, he said sport 
 ively : 
 
 " Sit down there quick, and teach me the deaf 
 mute language." 
 
 " Impossible," replied Gilbert ; " the hour for going 
 has already struck." 
 
 Stephane impatiently stamped his foot. 
 
 " Teach me at least the first two letters ; if I don t 
 know a and , I shall not be able to close my eyes to 
 night." 
 
 Gilbert taking him by the arm, led him to the 
 window, where, drawing aside the curtain, he pointed 
 out to him the stars already paling, and a vague white 
 ness which appeared at the horizon. Then sudden 
 ly changing his tone, but still carried away by his 
 impetuous nature, which stamped upon all the move 
 ments of his mind the character of passion, Stephane 
 became much excited at the idea of the dangers 
 which his friend was about to brave. 
 
 " I will go with you," said he, " I want to know 
 what risks you run in coming here. To descend from 
 the large roof to the small one, you must have had a 
 ladder. I want to see this ladder, I want to assure 
 myself that it is strong." 
 
 " Do not be afraid, I have attended to that." 
 
 "When I tell you that I wish to see it! I will be- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 197 
 
 Heve only my own eyes and hands. Where is this 
 ladder ? I positively must see it." 
 
 " And I forbid you to climb this window. Take 
 my word/ my rope ladder is entirely new and very 
 strong." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Stephane, struck with a sud 
 den idea. I will bet that you have fastened it to that 
 great iron corbel, which stretches its frightful beak up 
 there at the angle of the wall. And just now you 
 were suspended in space on this treacherous float 
 ing cord. Monstrous fool that I was not to under 
 stand it." 
 
 And to Gilbert s great astonishment, he added : 
 
 " You do not yet love me enough to have the 
 right to run such risks." 
 
 " Do be a little calmer, 1 said Gilbert. " You dis 
 played just now a gentleness and wisdom which en 
 chanted me. Take care ; Ivan might wake and 
 come up." 
 
 "These walls are deafened, the flagging is thick; 
 between this room and the staircase there is an alcove, 
 a vestibule and two large closed doors ; and between 
 the rail of this staircase and the cage of my jailer, 
 there is a long corridor. Besides, he is capable of 
 everything but rambling at night round my apart 
 ment; but what matters it? Let him come to sur 
 prise us, this hateful Ivan ! I will resign myself to 
 everything rather than see you put your feet upon 
 that horrible ladder again. And take my word for 
 it, if you violate my injunction, at that very mo 
 ment before your eyes, I will throw myself headlong 
 down the precipice." 
 
 " You are extremely unreasonable," replied Gil 
 bert, in a severe tone ; " I must leave here at 
 any cost. Since my ladder displeases you, instead 
 of uttering a thousand follies, try rather to dis 
 cover " 
 
 Stephane struck his forehead. 
 
 " Here is my discovery," interrupted he ; " oppo- 
 
198 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 site this window, on the other side of the roof, there 
 is another, which, if you can only open it, will certainly 
 let you into some empty lofts. Where these lofts 
 will take you I don t exactly know, for Ivan told me 
 once when he wanted to store some broken furniture 
 there, that he had not been able to find the entrance ; 
 but you will no doubt discover some window near, by 
 which you can get out upon the great roof, half-way 
 from your turret, and so you will be spared a great 
 deal of trouble and danger. Ah! if this proves so, 
 how proud I shall be of finding it out." 
 
 " Now you are as I like to see you," said Gilbert ; 
 " instead of prancing like a badly bitted horse, you 
 are calm, and you reason." 
 
 " So to reward me you will permit me to accom 
 pany you." 
 
 " God forbid ! and if you presume to go without 
 my permission, I swear to you that I will never come 
 here again." 
 
 And as Stephane resisted and chafed, Gilbert 
 took his head between his hands, and drawing 
 him to his breast, pressed a paternal kiss on his 
 forehead, just at the roots of his hair. This kiss 
 produced an extraordinary effect, which alarmed him ; 
 Stephane shuddered from head to foot, and a cry es 
 caped him. 
 
 " Awkward fellow that I am," said Gilbert, in an 
 uneasy tone ; " I have wounded you without intend 
 ing it." 
 
 " No," murmured he, " it is of no consequence ; 
 but that was the place where my mother used to kiss 
 me. May the saints be with you. I love you. 
 Good-bye ! " 
 
 And thus speaking he covered his face which was 
 on fire, with both hands. 
 
 Ah ! if Gilbert had understood ! But he divined 
 nothing ; he descended to the roof, crossed it, and 
 discovered, as he groped about, a window all the 
 panes of which were broken ; which saved him the 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 199 
 
 trouble of opening it. When he found himself in the 
 lofts, he lighted the candle which he had taken the 
 precaution to bring in his pocket. The place which 
 he had just entered was a wretched garret, three or 
 four feet wide. In front of him he noticed four or 
 five steps, ascended them, and opened an old door 
 without any fastening. This let him into a vast cor 
 ridor, which had no visible place of exit at the other 
 end ; it was infested by spiders and rats, and encum 
 bered with dilapidated old furniture. Gilbert discov 
 ered on raising his eyes that he was in the mansard, 
 lighted by the great dormer window. The bolt 
 which held the shutter was so high up that he could 
 not reach it with his hand. An old rickety table 
 stood in a corner buried under a triple coating 
 of dust. Having reached the window by its aid, 
 Gilbert drew the bolt; he mounted upon the roof 
 and, supporting himself by one of the projecting tim 
 bers of the pediment, restored the shutter to its 
 embrasure and fastened it as well as he could ; after 
 which he made his way once more towards the small 
 roof; for, before returning to his lodging, it was ne 
 cessary at any cost to detach and draw up the ladder, 
 an unimpeachable witness which would have testified 
 against him. While Gilbert was extended at length 
 fully occupied in this delicate operation, Stephane, 
 standing at his window and trembling like a leaf, was 
 tearing his handkerchief with his beautiful teeth. 
 The ladder withdrawn, Gilbert cried out to him : 
 
 " Your lofts are admirable. Hereafter, coming 
 to see you will only be a pleasure trip." 
 
 When he found himself again upon his balcony, 
 dawn began to break, and a screech owl returning 
 from his hunt after field mice, passed before him and 
 regained his hole. Gilbert waved his hand to this 
 nocturnal adventurer whose confrere he felt himself, 
 and leaping lightly into his room was sleeping pro 
 foundly in five minutes. At the same moment Ste 
 phane, raising his eyes to the holy images to which 
 
200 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 he had given such terrible blows, exclaimed with a 
 passionate gesture : " Oh ! St. George, St. Sergius, 
 help me to keep my secret." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 YESTERDAY evening I returned to Stephane by 
 the dormer window and the lofts; the journey took 
 me but twenty minutes. There was a slight wind, 
 and I was glad to have nothing to do with the iron 
 corbel. Arriving at ten o clock I returned half an hour 
 after midnight. On leaving the young man, I felt terri 
 fied and overjoyed at the same time, frightened at 
 the impulsive ardor of his temperament and at the 
 efforts it will cost me to moderate his impetuosity; 
 but overjoyed, astonished at the quickness and grasp 
 of his mind, at his vivid imagination, and the truly Scla- 
 vonian flexibility of his naturally happy disposition. 
 It is certain that the sad and barren existence he has 
 led for years would have shattered the energies of a 
 soul less finely tempered than his ; the vigor and 
 elasticity of his temperament have saved him. But 
 I arrived just in time, for he confessed to me that 
 the idea of suicide had taken possession of him since 
 that unlucky escapade punished by fifteen hours im 
 prisonment. 
 
 " My first attempt was unfortunate," said he, " but 
 \ was resolved to try again ; I had sounded the 
 ford ; another time I should have crossed the stream." 
 
 I hastened to turn the conversation, especially as 
 he was not in the humor to weary himself with such 
 a gloomy subject. How happy he appeared to see 
 me again; how his joy expressed itself upon his in 
 genuous face, and how speaking were his looks ! We 
 occupied ourselves at first with the language of signs. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2OI 
 
 Nothing escaped his eager intellect : he complained 
 only of my slow explanations. 
 
 " I understand, I understand," he would cry ; 
 " something else, my dear sir, something else, I m 
 not a fool." 
 
 I certainly had no idea of such quickness of ap 
 prehension. " The Sclavonians learn quickly," said 
 I, " and forget quickly too." 
 
 To prove the contrary, he answered me by signs : 
 
 "You are an impertinent fellow." 
 
 I was confounded. Then all at once : 
 
 "Extraordinary man," said he, with a gravity 
 which made me smile, " tell me a little of your life." 
 
 " Extraordinary I am not at all," said I. 
 
 " And I affirm," answered he, " that humanity is 
 composed of tyrants, valets and a single and only 
 Gilbert." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Gilberts are abundant." 
 
 "There is but one, there is but one," cried he, 
 with a fire and energy that enchanted me. 
 
 I must own I am not sorry that for the time 
 being he looks upon me as an exceptional being ; for 
 it is well to keep him a little in awe of me. To sat 
 isfy him I gave him the history of my youth. This 
 time he reproached me for being too brief, and not 
 going enough into detail. 
 
 As his questions were inexhaustible, I said : " After 
 to-day do not let us waste our time upon this sub 
 ject. Besides, the top of the basket shows the best 
 that s in it." 
 
 " There may perhaps be something to hide from 
 me ? " 
 
 " No ; but I will confess that I do not like to 
 talk about myself too much. I get tired of it very 
 soon." 
 
 " What ? " said he in a tone of reproach, " are we 
 not here to talk endlessly about you, me, us ? " 
 
 " Certainly, and our favorite occupation will be 
 to entertain ourselves with ourselves ; but to render 
 
2O2 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 this pastime more delightful, it will be well for us to 
 occupy ourselves sometimes with something else." 
 
 " With something else ? With what ? " 
 
 " With that which is not ourselves." 
 
 " And what do I care for anything which is nei 
 ther you nor me ? " 
 
 " This is the point : he who has the wisdom to 
 go out of himself often ends by finding himself 
 again in objects which appear the most foreign to his 
 being ; he observes that man is allied to the whole 
 universe, and that even the stars are of the same 
 family ; he discovers secret relations between his 
 soul and nature, between the laws of his thoughts 
 and the laws of the plants, the elements and all the 
 forms of universal life ; he discovers that the world 
 and he were made for each other, and fashioned by 
 the same hand ; and at the same time, while studying 
 it he learns to know himself better and he repeats 
 with joy the words of the philosopher: "The spirit 
 of man is the spirit of the universe." 
 
 " Such a fine discourse passes far beyond my in 
 telligence : but what I do know is, that this myster 
 ious essay accords badly with that admirable pro 
 gramme of friendship which you sketched for me the 
 other day. A true friend, you said, occupies him 
 self unceasingly about his friend ; he sees with him, 
 in him, for him." 
 
 " Far from curtailing my programme, I complete 
 it. To love in God is an expression which you must 
 have heard often from father Alexis ; I translate it 
 thus : To think together, to enjoy the universe to 
 gether, to worship the same ideal together ! " 
 
 " According to this, I shall never be the friend 
 you dream of, for I do not think I enjoy the universe 
 much ; and as for the ideal, I don t know what it is, 
 nor do I care to know either." 
 
 " Bah ! you must not swear to anything. When 
 the lily shall have blossomed .... Meanwhile, don t 
 you think that one of the greatest pleasures two 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2O3 
 
 friends can taste, is to travel together ? And what 
 are journeys on foot or horseback compared with 
 those which can be made on the wing by two souls 
 strictly united, and floating together in the kingdom 
 of ideas!" 
 
 He remained silent some moments, and then said : 
 
 " The master of this house is right in treating you 
 as an idealist. Ideas ! ideas ! I have never meddled 
 with them, and I forewarn you that I have a head as 
 empty as a nutshell nibbled by a mouse." 
 
 " But at all events you sometimes work, you read, 
 you study ? " 
 
 " At Martinique, father Alexis gave me two or 
 three hours of lessons every day. He taught me 
 history, geography, and among other stuff of the 
 same kind, the inconceivable merits, and the super 
 human perfections of his eternal Panselinos. The 
 dissertations of this spiritual schoolmaster diverted 
 me very little, as you may well suppose, and I was 
 furious that in spite of myself his tiresome verbiage 
 rooted itself in my memory, which is the most tena 
 cious in the world." 
 
 " And did he continue his instructions to you ? " 
 
 " After our return to Europe, my father ordered 
 him to teach me nothing more but the catechism. 
 He said it was the only study my silly brain was fit 
 for." 
 
 " So for three years you have passed your days in 
 absolute idleness." 
 
 " Not at all ; I have always been occupied from 
 morning till night." 
 
 " And how ? " 
 
 " In sitting down, in getting up, in sitting down 
 again, in pacing the length and breadth of my room, 
 in gaping at the crows, in counting the squares of 
 these flagstones, and the tiles of the little roof, in 
 looking a* the iron corbel and the water-spout on top 
 of it, in watching the clouds sailing through the empty 
 air, and then in lying down there in that recess of the 
 
204 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 wall, to rest quiet, with my eyes closed, ruminating 
 over the problem of my destiny, asking myself what I 
 could have done to God, that he chastised me so 
 cruelly, recalling my past sufferings, enjoying in 
 advance my sufferings to come, weeping and dream 
 ing, dreaming and weeping, until overcome with 
 lassitude and exhaustion I ended by falling asleep ; 
 or else, driven to desperation by weariness, I ran 
 down to Ivan s lodging, and there gave vent to my 
 scorn, fury and despair, at the top of my lungs." 
 
 These words, pronounced in a tone breathing 
 all the bitterness of his soul, troubled me deeply. I 
 trembled to think of this desolate child, whose griefs 
 were incessantly augmented by solitude and idleness, 
 of that soul defencelessly abandoned to its gloomy 
 reveries, of that poor heart maddened, and pounc 
 ing upon itself as upon a prey ; self-devouring, con 
 stantly reopening his wounds and inflaming them, 
 without work or study to divert him a single instant 
 from his monotonous torment. Oh ! Count Kostia, 
 how refined is your hatred ! 
 
 " I m astonished," said I, " that you didn t go mad, 
 living in this way." 
 
 " Henceforth," continued he without answering me, 
 " I shall have sweeter occupations. I shall think of 
 you, I shall believe that I see you, I shall think over 
 all your words, all your gestures ; I shall watch the 
 state of the sky and I shall say to the clouds : Go, 
 far away and pour out the showers which would make 
 the roofs slippery here ; and to the winds: Rage 
 until night ; but as soon as the sun sets, cease your 
 blowing, that my friend may be able to come to me ; 
 and to the stars : Shine to-night with your brightest 
 fires to light his steps. And I shall often look at my 
 watch and cry : In ten hours, in five hours, in two 
 hours he will be here. To beguile the weariness of 
 my long waitings, I will stand at the window, and, 
 whether I see you or not, I will make my fingers tell 
 you all the follies that may cross my mind." 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2O$ 
 
 I took his hands and said to him : 
 
 " My child, listen to me, and believe in my expe 
 rience. A life of sentiment will not suffice for a man, 
 and it is a fated delusion to flatter one s self that the 
 void of time can be filled with the heart. Whatever 
 joys the tender and faithful friendship I have vowed 
 to you may be able to procure, they will never be ca 
 pable of satisfying your whole nature. Do not speak, 
 I know what I am saying. This friendship has the 
 charm of novelty for you and a touch of adventure, 
 which exalts and inflames your imagination. You 
 are a poor doubter suddenly smitten with faith, but 
 you must distrust the lures and deceptions of enthu 
 siasm. Converted unbelievers easily become super 
 stitious. Do not feed on air and chimeras, nor 
 dream of impossible bliss. Falling back from yon 
 clouds upon yourself, you will charge your delusions 
 upon me. You will say to me, is it thus you keep 
 your engagements ? False prophet, where is the hap 
 piness which you promised me ? Alas ! I burn with 
 a thirst which you cannot quench, and I see that with 
 all your zeal you know no remedy for the barrenness 
 of my life and soul. Now I ask you, should you 
 ever address such language to me, would not your 
 complaints, your demands, your recriminations, and 
 my inability to satisfy you, be enough to fill our friend 
 ship with bitterness, and make it a torture to us, a bur 
 den, a source of torment and disgust? My child, 
 I implore you not to imitate the savage, who, pros 
 trated before his divinity, expands his soul in idolatries 
 and senseless hopes, and the next clay whips the idol 
 outrageously, reproaching him with lies and impos 
 tures. The poor fool s blind fury mistakes its object, 
 for the impostor is himself. He imagined that to be 
 God whose sole crime is not being God." 
 
 When I had spoken these words, he cast a furtive 
 look upon the images of the saints, then lowered his 
 head sighing. I resumed : 
 
 " Sooner or later the moment will come when you 
 
206 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ought to gather all your energies to conquer or dis 
 arm your destiny. Then, standing at your side, I will 
 fight for you ; but without you I can do nothing, and 
 upon your wisdom and courage the victory will de 
 pend. Prepare yourself then from this day for the 
 great contest, and when the hour strikes, may you 
 find yourself in the possession of health of body and 
 soul. Stephane, Stephane, think of it: strength is 
 health, health is tranquillity, and tranquillity is the 
 precious gift which reason, ripened by reflection and 
 study, bestows upon a well regulated heart. Exercise 
 and nourish your mind then, and one day you will 
 feel your loins strengthened, and the weakness of 
 your faltering heart suddenly reanimated by a life-giv 
 ing breath. If you refuse to your intellect the nour 
 ishment it requires to keep it from perishing or being 
 extinguished; if you scorn my counsels, and insist 
 upon living only through the heart ; if in only loving 
 and hating you forget to reason and reflect, then I 
 fear you will be forever condemned to sterile ex 
 citements, to those fevers which consume the soul, 
 and to hopeless impotence of will." 
 
 His face was very sad, and I thought I saw tears 
 glistening in his eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, " how much better you spoke the 
 other day. * In this breast, in this heart, you said, * I 
 bring you a ray of the sun ; drink of the light and 
 the heat, and I swear to you my beautiful lily, you 
 will end by blossoming under the eye of eternal 
 goodness. You see I was right in boasting of my 
 memory ; it is faithful and tenacious, an embarrass 
 ing circumstance for those fine talkers who contra 
 dict themselves shamelessly from one day to an 
 other." 
 
 " Permit me to say," replied I, " that I retract 
 nothing ; but since your memory is so exact, do you 
 not recollect that I spoke to you not only of the light 
 of the sun, but of the nourishing juices of the earth? 
 Doubtless it is heat which animates and causes the 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2O/ 
 
 seed to germinate, but plants are not nourished by 
 the sun ; the celestial rays are stimulants which 
 awaken in them a secret desire to live, and immedi 
 ately their roots, attaching themselves like hungry 
 nurselings to the breasts of the earth, draw up the 
 quickening essence, and the sap rises and rises, and 
 the divine mystery is accomplished." 
 
 I am much mistaken, or the truth of my words 
 struck him ; but he kept it carefully to himself. He 
 walked about the room with a careless and mutinous 
 air; then stopping before me and crossing his arms, 
 he said : " I now see that the night rambler and the 
 other are inseparable." 
 
 " And aren t you reconciled to the other yet ? " 
 
 " I don t insult him any more, that ought to satisfy 
 him. All my affection is for the hero ; the pedant 
 has no claim except upon my tolerance." 
 
 " Very well ! since you tolerate the pedant, toler 
 ate also his impertinent questions and answer this 
 one if you please. Are there no books in this 
 room ? " 
 
 " Ah ! there I recognize him clearly enough ! " 
 cried he. " Books ! books ! Certainly yes, we have the 
 pleasure of possessing them. Stay, there is a large 
 closet full ; but I forewarn you that I have not read 
 a single one of them." 
 
 I opened the closet which he pointed out to me. 
 Heavens ! what a strange library. I fancy the Count 
 had thrown all his worthless books there, with others of 
 more importance, but for which he had no use. 
 From the midst of the frightful disorder of this dusty 
 collection, I drew out a Universal History in Dutch, 
 four enormous folios ; the complete works of Para 
 celsus, a Persian grammar, an imperfect volume of 
 the Bibliothcque historique de la France, by Father 
 Lelong, the Bibliotheca media et infimcc. latinitatis of 
 Fabricius, and the works of Muret, and I don t know 
 what else. However, I noticed also some works of 
 history in French and a manr.al of botany. I began 
 
208 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 to make a selection when Stephane approached me 
 with flushed face and flashing eyes. 
 
 " Physician of my soul," said he, " prescribe all the 
 regulations for me you please, but don t speak to me 
 of reading, for I will die rather than obey you." 
 
 " Then you hate books ? " said I in a grieved 
 tone." 
 
 " In my childhood," replied he, " I was an indefati 
 gable reader. At Martinique too, I eagerly devoured 
 many picturesque books of travel, some French 
 classics, and all the tragedies in the world, and some 
 scraps of all of them remain in my head ; but for 
 three years, that is to say, from the day when I com 
 menced to think, I have held books in abhorrence." 
 
 And with increasing warmth : 
 
 " Oh ! yes, believe me, I hate them and I shall 
 always hate them from the bottom of my soul." 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you wish to know why ! " 
 
 And then, giving way to his fury, he continued in 
 a voice stifled with emotion, " I hate them ! I hate 
 them because they are the delight of the father who 
 hates me, and because they have always supplanted 
 me in his heart. Will you do me the favor to under 
 stand me ? He is not marble ; he is not bronze ; he 
 is made of flesh and bone, as we are. And at cer 
 tain hours perhaps, feeling himself sad and weary, 
 he looks about him to find something to love, to 
 caress, to fold in his arms ; and perhaps he recollects 
 that he has a child and that a child is one of those 
 objects which a father takes delight in loving, caress 
 ing and pressing to his heart, for that might happen, 
 might it not ? It is not entirely contrary to nature, or 
 if it is a miracle, this miracle is sometimes wrought ? 
 But at the moment when such thoughts come to him, 
 and he feels his heart soften and throb in his breast, 
 he sees his books, his beloved books, his adored 
 books ; he opens one of them and becomes absorbed. 
 Good-bye fatigue, good-bye sadness, good-bye the 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2OQ 
 
 recollection of his child ! He is contented, and 
 nothing is wanting to his happiness ; and his hands 
 moving with pride over the vellum, forget that just 
 now they were groping to find a blonde head, whose 
 curls they could wreathe about their fingers. That is 
 not all ! He has moments too, I call Heaven to wit 
 ness, when he is seized with a secret trouble in think 
 ing that he has near him, in his own house, a being 
 that his coldness, his harshness, his scorn, his icy 
 smiles, his cruelties, his injustice drive to rebellion 
 and desperation a being who suffers, who grieves, 
 who gnaws his heart out. . . . And then he hears some 
 thing like a sigh, or a sob, which reaches him even 
 through the thickness of the walls, and in spite of 
 himself he trembles, he feels in the depths of his 
 soul a something which resembles a pang of re 
 morse. But all at once he sees his book. . . . Fare 
 well to his trouble, farewell repentance ! Let the vic 
 tim sob at his ease, he will hear it no more. He is 
 far from him, he travels, he is at Rome, at Byzan 
 tium he is beyond the ocean, beyond the clouds ! 
 Can the cries of a child reach him there ? And you 
 ask me why I do not like books ! Ah ! upon my 
 soul, I hate them as I hate death ! I hate them be 
 cause he loves them to distraction ; I hate them be 
 cause they are his malady ; because they dry up and 
 harden his heart ; because they are his supreme 
 pleasure, and that in this pleasure he drowns the hap 
 piness of his child and his father s heart and feels no 
 shame ! " 
 
 At these words, beside himself, he seized some 
 of the volumes which I had just selected, and throw 
 ing them on the floor, stamped upon them with fury. 
 I entreated him to calm himself; he finished by lis 
 tening to reason, and picking up the defaced and 
 torn volumes threw them into the closet, shut the 
 door and put the key in his pocket. 
 
 " Since this is the case," said I, reseating myself, 
 " I won t speak to you any more of reading ; but tell 
 
210 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 me, haven t you some tastes, some special talent, 
 some favorite pastime ? " 
 
 " I used to love drawing to distraction. At that 
 time father Alexis gave me lessons in it. I drew 
 from fancy or from nature. He had also begun to 
 teach me to paint. I worked in water colors. I still 
 have my pencils, my brushes and my palette, my 
 paint boxes too; but I never touch them now. For 
 a long time I have had no taste for anything." 
 
 Upon that, he drew from a drawer a large port 
 folio filled with drawings, which he opened before 
 me. I could not repress a cry of surprise and de 
 light. These drawings were principally sketches, 
 but I recognized at the first glance, a skilful and 
 ready pencil, delicate taste, a knowledge of order and 
 proportions, artistic instincts, the marks of a true and 
 happy talent. 
 
 " We are saved ! " I inwardly exclaimed. 
 
 I stopped to examine a woman s face in crayon. 
 
 " It is the likeness of my mother," said he, and 
 his eyes filled. " I have drawn it thousands of times 
 from a medallion which I always carry next my heart, 
 and which is a masterpiece." 
 
 He drew from his bosom the gold medallion 
 and laid it before me. I could not repress an ex 
 clamation at the resemblance between mother and 
 son resemblance in feature I mean for the char 
 acter of the faces differ as much as black and 
 white. The placid, melancjioly face of the Countess 
 Olga seemed to say, " Take the trouble to will, I 
 shall not object to anything you do." Yes, there was 
 irresponsibility in that face. I also noticed in the 
 portfolio some water colors, touched by a light but 
 firm hand, and a little further on an indescribably 
 grotesque composition of devils, intertwined with 
 death s heads. I passed over this quickly and came 
 upon a long paper all covered with pen caricatures. 
 I recognized father Alexis and Ivan, taken in all 
 sorts of attitudes and playing the most grotesque 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 211 
 
 pranks. I experienced a feeling of lively relief in 
 observing that his father was not represented there 
 at all. Upon the reverse of the leaf I read this in 
 scription in capital letters : " The most stupid of 
 Holland rats in his cheese." The cheese was a 
 heavy folio and the rat, well ! the rat had a human 
 head, and this head strongly resembled one of my 
 most intimate friends. 
 
 " Yes, it is I, it is surely I," I said laughing. 
 
 He leaned over my shoulder and blushed. 
 
 " What are you looking at there ? " he said. And 
 tearing the paper from my hands, he lighted it at the 
 lamp and threw it in the air all ablaze, at the risk of 
 setting fire to the curtains. Then, clapping his 
 hands, he exclaimed : " I have an idea ! " Since you 
 want me to work, I ll begin by taking your portrait. 
 I will represent you as I have seen you since you 
 operated on my cataract: it is with the hero that 
 my pencil shall busy itself: the night rambler, the 
 man of the woollen shirt. As for the pedant, let who 
 pleases take care of him ! " 
 
 " We will see about that by and by, there is ample 
 time." And after having reflected, I added : 
 
 " I have an idea too. You love flowers and paint 
 ing. Paint an herbarium." 
 
 " What s that ? " 
 
 " See this large paper. You will paint in it, in 
 water colors, a collection of all the flowers of this re 
 gion, of all those, at least, that you may find in your 
 walks. If you don t know their names, I will teach 
 them to you, or we will seek for them together." 
 
 " Provided that books take no part in it." 
 
 " We will dispense with them as much as possible. 
 I will muster up all my knowledge to tell you the his 
 tory of these pretty painted flowers ; I will tell you 
 of their families, I will teach you how to classify 
 them ; in short, will give you little by little, all I know 
 of botany." 
 
 He made a hundred absurd objections, among 
 
212 CO UNT KOSTIA. 
 
 others, that he found in all the flowers of the fields 
 and the woods in this country a creeping and servile 
 air ; then this, and then that, expressing himself in a 
 sharp but sportive tone. 
 
 " I shall teach you botany, my wild young colt," 
 I said to myself, " and not let you break loose." 
 
 I have not been able, however, to draw from him 
 any positive promise. 
 
 July 1 4th. 
 
 Victory ! By persistent hammering I have suc 
 ceeded in beating the idea of the painted herbarium 
 into this naughty, unruly head. 
 
 But he has imposed his conditions. He consents 
 to paint only the flowers that I will gather myself, and 
 bring to him. After some discussion I yielded the 
 point. 
 
 " Ah ! " said I, " take care to gather some yourself, 
 for otherwise Ivan . . . ." 
 
 Sunday, July I5th. 
 
 This afternoon I took a long walk in the woods. 
 I had succeeded in gathering some labiates, the dead 
 nettle, the pyramidal bell-flower and the wild thyme, 
 when in the midst of my occupation, I heard the trot 
 of a horse. It was he, a bunch of herbs and flowers 
 in his hand. Ivan, who according to his custom, fol 
 lowed him at a distance of ten paces, regarded me 
 some way off with an uneasy air; he evidently feared 
 that I would accost them ; but having arrived within 
 a few steps of me, Stephane, turning his head, started 
 his horse at full gallop, and Ivan, as he passed, 
 smiled upon me with an expression of triumphant 
 pity. Poor, simple Ivan, did you not hear our souls 
 speak to each other ? 
 
 July 1 6th. 
 
 Yesterday I carried my labiates to him. After 
 some desultory talk, I endeavored to describe as best 
 I could, the characters of this interesting family. He 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 213 
 
 listened to me out of complaisance. In time, he will 
 listen to me out of curiosity, inasmuch as, to tell the 
 truth, I am not a tiresome master j but I dare not yet 
 interrogate him in a Socratic way. The short little 
 questions would make our hot-headed young man angry. 
 The lesson finished, he wished to commence his her 
 barium under my eyes. The honor of precedence 
 has been awarded to the wild thyme ; its little white, 
 finely cut labias and the delicate appearance of the 
 stem pleased him, whilst he found the dead nettle 
 and the bell flower extremely common, and pro 
 nounced by him, the word extremely is most expres 
 sive. While he made pencil sketches, I told him 
 three stories, a fairy tale, an anecdote of Plutarch and 
 some sketches of the life of Saint Francis of Assisi. 
 He listened to the fairy tale without uttering a word, 
 and without a frown ; but the other two stories made 
 him shake his head several times. 
 
 " Is what you are telling me really true ? " said he. 
 " Would you wager your life upon it ? " And when I 
 came to speak of St. Francis embracing the lepers 
 
 " Oh ! now you re exaggerating." Then speaking 
 to St. George : " Upon your conscience now, would 
 you have done as much ? " 
 
 He ended by becoming sportive and frolicsome. 
 As he begged me to sing him a little song, I hum 
 med Cadet Roussel, which he did not know ; the 
 " three hairs " made him laugh till the tears ran down 
 his cheeks, but he paid dearly for this excess of 
 gayety. When I rose to leave he was seized with a 
 paroxysm of weeping, and I had much trouble in con 
 soling him. I repent having excited him so much. I 
 must humor his nerves, and never put him in that 
 state of mind which contrasts too strongly with the re 
 alities of his life. At any cost I must present certain 
 awakings. 
 
 July iyth. 
 
 Day before yesterday, while he was drawing, I 
 looked at him at my leisure. What delicacy of fea- 
 
214 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ture, what purity in the lines, I should like to be a 
 painter; what studies I should have in that face ! I 
 can find no fault in it, unless perhaps the mouth may 
 be a little too small : when he is in a bad humor it 
 gives him a hard and pinched look ; but when he is 
 in a happy mood, the smiles crowd and push upon 
 each other, not finding room to make their way out ; 
 the corners of the lips are raised and curved slightly, 
 with a piquant and singular grace. As for his eyes, they 
 are those of his country ; iron grey and with but little 
 brightness of their own; but when excited by passion, 
 they sparkle or flame. It is a singular fact that not 
 withstanding his life, his face remains so young. He 
 has a child s contour of cheek and chin. Where suf 
 fering betrays itself, is in his pallor, in the network 
 of bluish veins on both temples, and in the slight 
 emaciation of his hands which is unnatural to his age. 
 And then there is habitually something like a veil 
 over his face; like those semi-transparent autumnal 
 vapors which envelope and drown the outlines of the 
 hills in their floating gauze. When, from the effect 
 of some sudden emotion, the veil falls, one is aston 
 ished, dazzled. A charming peculiarity is that his 
 hair is a light chestnut color, his eyebrows nearly 
 brown, and his long curved eyelashes a jet black. 
 This gives a unique character to his perfectly regu 
 lar face ; one cannot get used to it, it is always new. 
 
 July, I Qth. 
 
 I admire his conduct at the table. Seated op 
 posite to me, he never appears to see me, whilst you, 
 grave Gilbert, do not know at times what to do with 
 your eyes ; but the other day he crossed the great 
 hall with such a quick and elastic step, that the 
 Count s attention was drawn to him. I must caution 
 him to be more discreet. I am also uneasy because 
 in our nocturnal tetc a tetes he often raises his voice, 
 moves the furniture and storms round the room ; 
 but he assures me there is nothing to fear. The walls 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 21$ 
 
 are thick and the foot of the staircase is separated 
 from the corridor by a projection of masonry which 
 would intercept the sound. Then the alcove, the ves 
 tibule, the two solid oak doors ! These two doors are 
 never locked. Ivan, he told me, is far from suspecting 
 anything, and the only thing which could excite his 
 distrust, would be excessive precaution. 
 
 "And besides," added he, " by the mercy of God 
 he is beginning to grow old, his mind is getting dull, 
 and he is more credulous than formerly. So I have 
 easily persuaded him that I will never forgive you, as 
 long as I live, for the death of my dog. Then again, 
 he is growing hard of hearing, and sleeps like a top. 
 Sometimes to disturb his sleep, I amuse myself by 
 imitating the bark of Vorace : but I have the trouble 
 for my pains. The only sound which he never fails 
 to hear, is the ringing of my father s bell. I admit, 
 however, that if any one presumed to touch his great 
 ugly oak door, he would wake up with a start. This 
 is because this door is his property, his object, his 
 fixed idea : he has a way of looking at it, which seems 
 to say : " you see this door ? it is mine." I believe, 
 that in his eyes there is nothing lovelier in the world 
 than a closed door. So he cherishes this horrible, 
 this infamous door : he smiles on it benignly, he 
 counts its nails and covers them with kisses. 
 
 " And you say that after nine o clock he never 
 comes up here ? " 
 
 " Never, never. I should like to see him attempt 
 it ! " cried he raising his head with an indignant air. 
 
 " You see then, that he is a jailer capable of be 
 having handsomely. I imagine that you do not like 
 him much ; but after all, in keeping you under lock 
 and key he is only obeying orders." 
 
 " And I tell you he is happy in making me suffer. 
 The wicked man has done but one good action in 
 his whole life, that was in saving you from the fury 
 of Vorace. In consideration of this good action, I no 
 longer tell him what I think of him, but I think it 
 
2l6 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 none the less, and it seems to me very singular that 
 you should ask me to love him." 
 
 " Excuse me, I do not ask you to love him, but to 
 believe that at heart, he loves you." 
 
 At these words he became so furious, that I 
 hastened to change the subject. 
 
 " Don t you sometimes regret Vorace ? " 
 
 " It was his duty to guard me against bugaboos, 
 but I have had no fear of them, since one of them 
 has become my friend." 
 
 To which he added in a more serious tone : 
 
 " I am superstitious, I believe in ghosts ; but I 
 defy them to approach my bed, hereafter. It is only 
 necessary for me to invoke the image of the man of 
 the woollen shirt." 
 
 He blushed and did not finish the sentence. Poor 
 child ! the painful mystery of his destiny, far from 
 quenching his imagination, has excited it to intoxica 
 tion, and I am not surprised that he shapes friend 
 ship to the romantic turn of his thoughts. 
 
 " You re mistaken," I said to him, " it is not my 
 image, it is botany which guards you against spirits. 
 There is no better remedy for foolish terrors than the 
 study of nature." 
 
 " Always the pedant," he exclaimed, throwing his 
 cap in my face. 
 
 July 22d. 
 
 Sometimes he pours out words in torrents. This 
 does not surprise me ; he has kept silence for so 
 many years. How has he been able to endure such 
 a life so long ? His flexibility has saved him. How 
 ever passionate he may be his soul is of elastic stuff. 
 
 July 23rd. 
 
 Vladimir Paulitch appeared yesterday at the end 
 of dinner. The presence of this man occasions me 
 an indefinable uneasiness. His coldness freezes me, 
 and then his dogmatic tone ; his smile of mocking 
 politeness. He always knows in advance what you 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 21 J 
 
 are going to say to him, and listens to you out of 
 politeness. This Vladimir has the ironical intoler 
 ance characteristic of materialists. However, he 
 may be a very honest man ; but for what reason did 
 he become the denouncer of poor Olga ? I do not be 
 lieve him capable of fanaticism in friendship. As to 
 his professional ability there can be no doubt. The 
 Count has entirely recovered ; he is better than I 
 have ever seen him. What vigor, what activity of 
 mind ! What confounds me is, that in our discus 
 sions, I come to see in him in, about the course of an 
 hour, only the historian, the superior mind, the 
 scholar ; I forget entirely the man of the iron boots, 
 the somnambulist, the persecutor of my Stephane, 
 and 1 yield myself unreservedly to the charm of his 
 conversation. Oh, men of letters ! men of letters ! 
 
 July 26th. 
 
 Stephane said to me yesterday : " I am encour 
 aged at times to hope for happiness in the future, 
 since I find that there is a kind of connection in 
 everything which has happened to me for the last 
 three months. One day I had the good luck and the 
 folly to elude Ivan s vigilance ; I ran down to the 
 stable, saddled my horse myself, and scoured the 
 country alone. I hardly felt myself at liberty before 
 I conceived the idea of flying, never to return ; but 
 to propose is nothing, it is necessary to desire. I 
 wished and did not wish ; I hesitated between fear 
 and desire, and alternately spurred my horse and 
 rudely checked him. At length I was obliged to con 
 fess that however much I wanted to escape, I should 
 never have the courage to do it, and I returned with 
 hanging head to the route leading to my prison, my 
 soul a prey to the most poignant sorrow. On my 
 way I met a young peasant who looked at me grin 
 ning ; and out of humor as I was, I cut him across the 
 face with my whip. A little further on, wishing to 
 give my horse a drink, I observed a certain person 
 
218 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 seated near the spring where I intended to halt, and 
 you know how I discharged my bile and spite upon 
 this unlucky individual. I do not attempt to deny 
 that I was unjust, brutal, treacherous ; but I do not 
 regret it, for in fact, if the first time I saw you I had 
 not knocked your hat into the ditch, you would not 
 have been irritated with me ; if you had not been ir 
 ritated, you would not have thought any more about 
 me, you would not have divined my situation, you 
 would not have pitied me and you would not have 
 saved my beautiful tuft of pinks from the hands of 
 the Philistines. If by a silly mistake, I had not sus 
 pected you of wishing to appropriate the aforesaid 
 carnation to yourself, I should not have insulted you 
 through the booby Fritz, and then I should not have 
 been forced to apologize to you ; without the humilia 
 tion which I suffered, I should not have resolved so 
 soon to kill myself; if I had not attempted to kill 
 myself before your eyes, you would not have con 
 ceived the project of saving me from despair; you 
 would not have sought me on the terrace, you would 
 not have torn my glove from Vorace, and Vorace would 
 not have been killed. Then if Vorace still lived, you 
 could not come here ; we should not be engaged at 
 this moment in looking at each other, in talking, in 
 discoursing of plants, of heroes, of saints, of you, of 
 me ; and to finish my reasoning, I should not yet have 
 known the meaning of happiness." 
 
 " That is reasoning," said I, " after the fashion 
 of father Alexis." 
 
 This he strongly denied, and administered to me 
 
 three little raps. 
 
 July 27th. 
 
 He said to me : 
 
 " I do not possess happiness yet ; but it seems to 
 me. at moments, that I see it, that I touch it." 
 
 July 28th. 
 
 To-day, Doctor Vladimir appeared again at des 
 sert. He aimed a few sarcasms at me, I suspect that 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2IQ 
 
 I do not please him much. Will his affection for the 
 Count go so far as to make him jealous of the esteem 
 which he evinces for me ? We talked philosophy. 
 He exerted himself to prove that everything is mat 
 ter. I stung him to the quick in representing to him 
 that all his arguments were to be found in d Hol- 
 bach. I endeavored to show him that matter itself is 
 spiritual, that even the stones believe in spirit. In 
 stead of answering, he beat about the bush. Other 
 wise, he spoke well, that is to say, he expressed his 
 gross ideas with ingenuity. What he lacks most, is 
 humor. He has something of the saturnine in his 
 mind; his ideas have a leaden tint. The Count, 
 prompted by good taste, saw that he held out too ob 
 stinately, without taking into account that Kostia Pet- 
 rovich himself detests the absolute as much in the neg 
 ative as in the affirmative. He thanked me with a 
 smile when I said to the doctor, in order to put an 
 end to the discussion : 
 
 " Sir, no one could display more mind in denying 
 its existence ;" and the Count added, alluding to the 
 doctor s meagerness of person : 
 
 " My dear Vladimir, if you deny the mind what 
 will be left of you ? " 
 
 July 3oth. 
 
 Yesterday, to my great chagrin, I found him in 
 tears. 
 
 "This evening, my friend," said he, "with your 
 permission, we will give up the thyme, the sage and 
 the lavender, for it is impossible for me to talk to you 
 of anything but myself." 
 
 The preceding night he had had a dream which 
 moved him deeply. He crossed the corridor ; sud 
 denly he felt a hand place itself upon his shoulder, 
 and draw him gently by one of his curls. He turned 
 and recognized his father, who looked smilingly upon 
 him. He woke himself in uttering a cry. Alas ! it 
 was but a dream. 
 
22O COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 "Ah, if you had seen him smile," said he; "it 
 seemed as if the corridor was illuminated." 
 
 No more botany ! He talked about nothing but 
 his vision and the reflections which it suggested to 
 him. This long, sad conversation has been produc 
 tive of good in convincing me that he does not return 
 his father hatred for hatred. He cordially detests 
 Ivan ; he despises father Alexis, of whose noble 
 and glorious sufferings he is ignorant, and whom he 
 harshly considers a parasite. And as Ivan and fath 
 er Alexis represent in his eyes two-thirds of human 
 ity, he has little mercy for the humanum pecus. As 
 for his tyrant, he neither hates nor despises him ; but 
 he feels in his presence that terror mingled with sur 
 prise and horror which great discords of nature in 
 spire. Thus, if to-morrow this father should open 
 his arms to him, he would throw himself into them, 
 crying : 
 
 " Unnatural father, you have been mad for eight 
 years. Ah ! great God do not let your reason be 
 come obscured again." 
 
 " Let this inexorable father beat me," said he, 
 " provided he tells me his secret. I prefer bad treat 
 ment to his silence. When we were at Martinique 
 he had attacks of such violence that they made my 
 hair stand on end. I would gladly have sunk into 
 the earth ; I trembled lest he should tear me in 
 pieces ; but he at least thought about me. He looked 
 at me ; I existed for him, and in spite of my terrors 
 I felt less unhappy than now. Do not think it is 
 my captivity which grieves me most. At my age it is 
 certainly very hard and very humiliating to be kept 
 out of sight and under lock and key ; but I should 
 be very easily resigned to that if it were my father 
 who opened and closed the door. But alas ! I am of 
 so little consequence in his eyes that he deputes the 
 task of tyrannizing over me to a serf. And then, dur 
 ing the brief moments when he constrains himself to 
 submit to my presence what a severe aspect, what 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 221 
 
 threatening brows, what grim silence ! Consider, too, 
 the fact that he has never entered this tower ; no, has 
 never had the curiosity to know how my prison was 
 made. Yet he cannot be ignorant of the fact that I 
 lodge above a precipice. He knows, too, that once 
 the idea of suicide took possession of me, and he 
 has not even thought of having this window barred." 
 
 " That is because he did not consider your at 
 tempt a serious one." 
 
 " Then how he despises me ! " 
 
 I represented to him that his father was sick, 
 that he was the victim of a nervous disorder which 
 deranges the most robust organizations, that doctor 
 Vladimir guaranteed his cure, that once recovered, 
 his temper would change, and that then would be 
 the moment to besiege this citadel thus rendered 
 more vulnerable." 
 
 " We must not, however, be precipitate," said I, 
 " let us have courage and patience." 
 
 I reasoned so well that he finally overcame his 
 despondency. When I see him yield to my reason 
 ing, I have a strong impulse to embrace him ; but it 
 is a pleasure I deny myself, as I know by experience 
 what it costs him. A moment afterwards, I don t 
 know why, he spoke to me of his sister who died at 
 Martinique. 
 
 " Why did God take her from me ? " 
 
 " Alas ! " said I, " she could not have supported 
 the life to which you have been condemned." 
 
 " And why not, pray ? " 
 
 " Because she would have suffered ten times as 
 much as you. Think of it, the nerves and heart of 
 a woman ! " 
 
 He looked at me with a singular expression ; ap 
 parently he could not understand how any one could 
 suffer more than he. After this he talked a long 
 time about women, who are to him, from what he said, 
 an impenetrable mystery, and he repeated eagerly : 
 
 " You do not despise them, as hd does ? " 
 
222 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 "That would be impossible, I remember my 
 mother." 
 
 " Is that your only reason ? " 
 
 " Some day I will tell you the others." 
 
 As I left and was already nearly out of the win 
 dow, he seized me impetuously by the arm, saying to 
 me : 
 
 " Could you swear to me that you would be less 
 happy if you did not know me ? " 
 
 " I swear it." 
 
 His face brightened, and his eyes flashed. 
 
 August yth. 
 
 The sap rises, rises Blessed be heaven and 
 earth ! 
 
 August 8th. 
 
 And you too are transformed my old Gilbert; 
 you have visibly rejuvenated. A new spirit has 
 taken possession of you. Your blood circulates more 
 quickly ; you carry your head more proudly, your 
 step is more elastic, there is more light in your eyes, 
 more breath in your lungs, and you feel a celestial 
 leaven fermenting in your heart. My old friend, you 
 have emerged from your long uselessness to give 
 birth to a soul ! oh ! glorious task ! God bless 
 mother and daughter ! 
 
 August Qth. 
 
 Stephane is painfully astonished at the friendship 
 which his father displays towards me. 
 
 " He has the power of loving then, and does not 
 love me ? It is because I am detestable ! " 
 
 Poor innocent ! It is certain that in spite of him 
 self, the Count has begun to like me. Good father 
 Alexis said to me the other evening : 
 
 " You are a clever man, my son ; you have cast a 
 spell upon Kostia Petrovitch, and he entertains an 
 affection for you, which he has never before mani 
 fested for any one." 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 22$ 
 
 After all, it can be explained, and there are good 
 reasons why he should like me a little. In the first 
 place I am very useful to him ; in the second, he 
 finds me easy to live with, inasmuch as he does not 
 know, and I hope never will knovv^; thirdly, I have 
 judgment and ability to criticise, and for these rea 
 sons he overlooks my idealism, " my puppets," and 
 what he calls my " nonsense ; " fourthly, I have a Spi- 
 nozian turn of mind which suits him: non flere, non 
 indignari, sed intelligere : fifthly, sixthly and seventh 
 ly, we both carry Byzantium in our hearts enough 
 to unite two men for life and death ! 
 
 " My beloved Stephane, my child, my nurseling, 
 do not be vexed at this friendship, which astonishes 
 you so ; it will some day be our anchor of safety." 
 
 August ii. 
 
 The book closet is always locked ; he even pre 
 tends that he has thrown the key out of the window ; 
 but what need have we of books ? Plants take their 
 place. His painted herbarium is enriched every day. 
 He already enumerates twenty species and five fam 
 ilies. Yesterday Stephane so far forgot himself as to 
 look at it with an air of satisfied pride. How happy 
 I was ! I kept my joy to myself, however. He 
 further delighted me by deciding to write from mem 
 ory at the bottom of each page the French and Latin 
 names for each plant. u It is a concession I have 
 made to the pedant," said he ; but this did not pre 
 vent him from being proud of having written these 
 forty names without a mistake. Last time I carried 
 to him some crowsfeet and anemones. He took the 
 little celandine in his hand, crying : 
 
 " Let me have it ; I am going to tell you the his 
 tory of this little yellow fellow." 
 
 And he then gave me all the characteristics with 
 marvellous accuracy. What a quick and luminous 
 intellect, and what overflowing humor ! His hands 
 trembled so much that I said to him : 
 
224 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " Keep cool, keep cool. It requires a firm and 
 steady hand to raise the veil of Isis." 
 
 I contented myself with explaining in a few words 
 who Isis was, which interested him but moderately. 
 His masterpiece, as a faithful reproduction of nature, 
 is his marsh ranunculus which I had introduced to 
 him under the Latin name of ranuncula scelerata. He 
 has so exquisitely represented these insignificant lit 
 tle yellow flowers that it is impossible not to fall in 
 love with them." 
 
 " This little poisoner has inspired me," said he. 
 " By dint of practising father Alexis, I begin to wish 
 good to the rascals." 
 
 I rebuked him sharply, but he was not much af 
 fected by my rating. 
 
 August 13. 
 
 The Count s conduct is atrocious, and yet I 
 understand it. His pride, his whole character, des 
 potic ; the horror of having been deceived. . . . And 
 besides, is he really Stephane s father ? . . . These two 
 children born after six years of marriage, and a few 
 years later to discover. . . . Suspicions often have less 
 foundation. And then this fatal resemblance which 
 keeps the image of the faithless one constantly be 
 fore his eyes ! The more decided the resemblance, 
 the greater must be the hatred. Even his smile, that 
 strange smile which belongs to him alone, Stephane 
 according to father Alexis, must have inherited 
 from his mother. " / have buried the smile ! " Fright 
 ful cry which I can hear still ! Finally, I believe that 
 in the barbarous hatred of this father there is more 
 of instinct than of system. It lives from day to day. 
 lam sure that Count Kostia has never asked him 
 self : What shall I do with my son when he is twenty ? 
 
 August, 1 4th. 
 
 Ivan, of whom I asked news of Stephane said to 
 me : 
 
 " Do not be uneasy about him any more. He 
 
COUNT KOSTIA, 22$ 
 
 has become much better within the past month, and 
 he grows more gentle from day to day ; this is the 
 result of seeing death so near." 
 
 August, 1 5th. 
 
 M. Leminof greatly astonished me this morning. 
 
 " My dear Gilbert," said he unreservedly, " I do 
 not claim that I am a perfect man ; but Iam certain 
 ly what might be called a good sort of fellow, and I 
 possess, in the bargain, a certain delicacy of con 
 science which sometimes inconveniences me. With 
 out flattery, you are, my dear Gilbert, a man of 
 great merit. Very well ! I am using you unjustly, 
 for you are at an age, when a man makes a name 
 and a career for himself; and these decisive years 
 you are spending in working for me, in collecting, like 
 a journeyman, the materials of a great work which 
 will bring neither glory nor profit to you. I have a 
 proposition to make to you. Be my coadjutor; we 
 will compose this monumental work together ; it 
 shall appear under our two names, and I give you 
 my head upon it, shall make you famous. We agree 
 upon nearly all questions of fact, and as to our dif 
 ference in ideas. . . . Mon Dieu ! we are neither of 
 us born quibblers ; we shall end in agreeing, and 
 even supposing we do not agree, I will give you carte 
 blanche ; for, to speak frankly, an idea is not just the 
 thing I should be ready to die for. What say you to 
 it my dear Gilbert ? We will not part until the task 
 is finished, and I fancy that we shall lead a happy 
 life together." 
 
 In spite of his persuasions, I have not consented ; 
 he has only drawn from me a promise that I will 
 give him an answer within a month. Stephane, Ste- 
 phane, how awkward I shall be, if I do not make 
 this happy incident instrumental in accomplishing 
 your deliverance ! The day will come when I can 
 say to your father : For the sake of your health, for 
 the sake of your repose, of your studies, of the work 
 
226 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 we have undertaken together, send this child away 
 from your house ; his presence troubles and irritates 
 you. Send him to some school or college. By a 
 single act you will make two persons happy. Gra 
 cious heaven, the stronghold will be hard to take ! 
 But by dint of patience, skill and vigilance .... have 
 I not already carried a fortress by storm Stephane s 
 heart ? No* I do not despair of success. But it will 
 cost me dear, this success that I hope for ! To see 
 him leave this house, to be separated from him for 
 ever ! At the very thought my heart bleeds. 
 
 August, 1 6th. 
 
 Doctor Vladimir will leave us during the early 
 part of next month. I shall not be sorry. Decided 
 ly this man does not please me. The other day at 
 the table, he looked at Stephane in a way that alarm 
 ed me. 
 
 August, 1 7th. 
 
 What is working in Stephane s heart ? I am satis 
 fied with him in all respects. 
 
 In the first place, he loves me much ; then he 
 works, he becomes more interested in his herbarium 
 every day, in that which is not " ourselves." His in 
 tellect strengthens and expands visibly ; its blooming 
 is enchanting to me ; but it is disturbed occasionally 
 by a secret anxiety, the cause of which he conceals 
 from me. The other day I said : 
 
 " What s the matter with you ? " 
 
 He answered me, while passing his hands over 
 his forehead : 
 
 " It is nothing. Let us talk of ranunculuses gen 
 tians and anemones." 
 
 August 1 8. 
 
 The sky is propitious for my nocturnal excursions. 
 Not a drop of rain has fallen for six weeks. The 
 north wind which sometimes blows violently in the 
 day time, abates regularly in the evening. As to the 
 vertigo, no return of it. Oh ! the power of habit ! 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 22/ 
 
 August 19. 
 
 What a misfortune ! Day before yesterday Ste- 
 phane, in crossing the vestibule in front of the great 
 hall, impelled by some odd motive, gave vent to a 
 loud burst of laughter. The Count started from his 
 chair and his face became livid. To-day Soliman 
 was sold. A horse dealer is coming directly to take 
 him away. Ivan, whom I just met, had great tears 
 in his eyes. Poor Stephane, what will he say ? 
 
 August 20. 
 
 It is very singular ! Yesterday I expected to find 
 him in a state of despair. He was gay, smiling. 
 
 " I was sure," said he, " that I should pay dearly 
 for that unlucky burst of laughter." 
 
 My father is mistaken ; it was not a burst of 
 gaiety, but a purely nervous spasm which seized me 
 while thinking of certain things, and at a moment 
 when I was not at all merry. However, besides life, 
 there were but two things left to take from me, my 
 horse and my hair, and thank God, he was not hap 
 pily inspired in his choice, and has not struck me in 
 the most sensitive place." 
 
 " What ! between Soliman and your hair." 
 
 " Isn t it beautiful ? " said he quickly. 
 
 " Magnificent without any doubt ! " I answered, 
 smiling. 
 
 "I ve always been a little vain of it," continued 
 he, waving his curls upon his shoulders ; " but I 
 value it more since I know it pleases you." 
 
 " Oh ! for that matter," I replied, " if you had 
 your head shaved, I should not love you any the less." 
 
 This answer, I don t know why, seemed to affect 
 him deeply. During the rest of the evening he was 
 thoughtful and gloomy. 
 
 August 23. 
 
 But what has come over him ? He seems more 
 resigned to his lot; he complains no more of Ivan 
 
228 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 nor of his father ; he pretends not to regret those 
 long rides which he used to take twice a week 
 through the woods ; in short, he affects an astonish 
 ing indifference for everything which moved and 
 warmed his heart. And meantime, he is a prey to 
 some perplexity which alarms me. I think I can some 
 times divine that his eyes are addressing mute re 
 proaches to me. He seems to say : " Now my sad 
 ness comes from you, my friend, my consoler." 
 Pshaw ! it is some caprice, some fancy. I shall suc 
 ceed in making him confess it. 
 
 August 24. 
 
 I thought it glorious to be able to communicate 
 to him the overtures which his father has made me, 
 and the project they suggested to me. I said to him : 
 
 "What a joy it would be to me to release you 
 from this prison, and yet with what bitter sadness this 
 joy would be mingled ! But wherever you go, we will 
 find some means of writing and of seeing each other. 
 The friendship between us is one of those bonds 
 which destiny cannot break." 
 
 " Oh, yes !" replied he in a sarcastic tone, " you 
 will come to see me once a year, upon my birth-day, 
 and will be careful to bring me a bouquet." 
 
 He burst into a fit of laughter which much resem 
 bled that of the other day. 
 
 August 30. 
 
 How he made me suffer yesterday ! I have not 
 recovered from it yet. What! was it he was it- to 
 me ? God ! what bitterness of language ; what keen 
 irony ! Count Kostia, you make a mistake this 
 child is really yours. He may have the features and 
 smile of his mother, but there is a little of your soul 
 in his. What grievances can he have against me ? 
 I can imagine but two. Sunday last, near three 
 o clock, we were both at the window. He commenced 
 a very animated speech by signs, and prolonged it far 
 beyond the prudential limits which I have prescribed 
 
COUNT KOSTIA, 22Q 
 
 to him. He spoke, I believe, about Soliman, and of 
 a walk which he had refused to take with Ivan. I 
 did not pay close attention, for I was occupied in 
 looking round to see that no one was watching us. 
 Suddenly I saw on the slope of the hill, big Fritz 
 and the little goat girl, to whom he is paying court, 
 seated on a rock. At the moment I was about to 
 answer Stephane, they raised their eyes to me. I 
 began then to look at the landscape, and present 
 ly quitted the spot. Stephane could not see them 
 from his window, and of course did not understand 
 the cause of my retreat. The other grievance is, 
 that for the first time three days have passed without 
 my paying him a visit ; but day before yesterday the 
 wind was so violent that it overthrew a chimney near 
 by, . . . and it was to punish me for such a grave offence 
 that he allowed himself to say that I was no doubt an 
 excellent botanist, an unparalleled philanthropist, but 
 that I understood nothing of the refinements of senti 
 ment. 
 
 " You are one of those men," said he, " who carry 
 the whole world in their hearts. It is useless for you 
 to deny it. I am sure you have at least a hundred 
 intimate friends." 
 
 " You are right," I replied ; " it is even for the 
 hundredth one that I have risked my life." 
 
 After this came his eternal tirade on suicide. I 
 begged of him a hundred times to leave that odious 
 subject ; but how persistently he returned to it ! He 
 spoke of nothing but laudanum, of morphine, of ar 
 senic ; he pretended to consult me with eager curios 
 ity in regard to the properties of all kinds of poisons. 
 
 " When one desires to make way with himself in 
 good shape," he said, " poison is the best method, 
 and I know some one who will depend upon it." 
 
 Then picking up a flower of henbane which lay 
 on the table : 
 
 " How lovely your ugliness seems to me ! " he 
 said : " I like your broad scalloped leaves like 
 
230 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 shameless hands which never loosen their grip ; 
 I like your ugly, hairy stem ; I like your acrid and 
 repulsive odor, too ; but if you care to know what 
 I like in you above everything, it is that your heart 
 swells with poison, and that your face is livid and 
 hideous like death." 
 
 I snatched the unlucky plant from his hands, and 
 having thrown it out of the window, I left him with 
 out saying good-bye. To tell the truth, I have always 
 suspected him of being more passionate than sensi 
 ble ; but if he were simply passionate ? perhaps, 
 although he conceals it from me, the loss of his dear 
 
 Chestnut 
 
 August, 31. 
 
 I was unjust to him. His heart is restless, 
 stormy, subject to grievous returns of distrust and 
 incredulity ; but it is still a heart. Yesterday even 
 ing, in spite of the storm, in spite of the firm resolu 
 tion I had formed of remaining away from him sev 
 eral days, I could not keep away. The journey was 
 not an easy one ; the rain and the wind plastered my 
 hair to my face ; the air was full of melancholy 
 noises, and the rafters of the roof trembled and 
 cracked under me. At last I arrived. What a cry 
 of joy and of horror he uttered on seeing me ! With 
 what warmth of affection he pressed my hands in his ! 
 How repentance depicted itself upon his face, and 
 with what effusion he poured out his heart at my 
 feet ! I asked no explanations I have a horror of 
 them, and this is one of those cases where silence is 
 the best interpreter between souls. I allowed him to 
 sit on the floor, with his head resting on my knees. 
 He remained in this posture nearly an hour, not say 
 ing a word, with his eyes closed, while the rain beat 
 violently against the panes, and the howling winds 
 vented their fury in the gloomy night. When he 
 arose 
 
 " These," said he, " are the happiest moments I 
 have yet passed in this world." 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 But his happiness was singularly disturbed, when 
 at midnight, as I prepared to depart, the storm had 
 redoubled its violence. The poor child became pale 
 with anguish. 
 
 " You see you are well punished," I said to him ; 
 " this will teach you not to spoil, by your naughty 
 freaks of temper, that beautiful and holy thing we 
 call friendship." 
 
 At the moment when I had just ascended my 
 floating ladder, which shook in the wind, and was 
 standing upon my narrow balcony, trying to draw it 
 in, the heavens opened ; I felt as if lashed by a 
 whirlwind of flame, and within thirty paces of me the 
 lightning struck the top of a great tree with a terrible 
 noise. How it happened that I did not fall I ca nnot 
 tell ; but what I know is, that I reentered my room, 
 drenched to the skin, but with a contented heart. 
 
 September yth. 
 
 During the last week, I have seen him three 
 times. He has given me no cause for complaint ; he 
 works, he reflects; his judgment is forming; not a 
 moment of ill-humor ; he is calm, docile, and gentle 
 as a lamb. Yes, but it is this excess of gentleness 
 which disturbs me. There is something unnatural to 
 me, in his condition, and I am forced to regret the 
 absence of those transports, and the childishness of 
 which I have endeavored to cure him. " Stephane, 
 you have become too unlike yourself. But a short 
 time since, your feet hardly touched the ground ; 
 lively, impetuous, and violent, there came from your 
 lips by turns flashes of merriment or of anger, and in 
 an instant you passed from enthusiasm to despair ; 
 but in our recent interviews I could scarcely recog 
 nize you. No more freaks of the rebellious child ; 
 no more of those familiarities which I loved ! Your 
 glances, even, as they meet mine, seem less assured ; 
 sometimes they wander over me doubtfully, and from 
 the surprise they express, I am inclined to believe 
 
232 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 that my figure must have grown some cubits, and you 
 can no longer take it in at a glance. And then those 
 sighs which escape you ! Besides, you no longer com 
 plain of anything ; your existence seems to have 
 become a stranger to you. It must be that without 
 
 my knowledge Ah ! unhappy child, I will know. 
 
 You shall speak ; you shall tell me. . . . 
 
 September, ipth. 
 
 Heavens ! what a flood of light ! Father Alexis, 
 you did not tell me all ! The more I think of it .... 
 Ah ! Gilbert, what scales covered your eyes ! Yester 
 day I carried him that copy of the poem of the Met 
 amorphoses, which I had promised him. A few frag 
 ments that I had repeated to him, had inspired him 
 with the desire of reading the whole piece, not from 
 the book, but copied in my hand. We read it to 
 gether, distich by distich. I translated, explained 
 and commented. When we arrived at these verses : 
 " May you only remember how the tie which first 
 united our souls was a germ from which grew in time 
 a sweet and charming intimacy, and soon friendship 
 revealed its power in our hearts, until love coming 
 last, crowned it with flowers and with fruit " At 
 these words he became agitated and trembled vio 
 lently. 
 
 " Do not let us go any further," said he, pushing 
 the paper away. " That is poetry enough for this 
 evening." 
 
 Then leaning upon the table, he opened and 
 turned the leaves of his herbarium ; but his eyes and 
 his thoughts were elsewhere. Suddenly he rose, took 
 a few steps in the room, and then returning to me : 
 
 " Do you think that friendship can change into 
 love?" 
 
 " Goethe says so ; we must believe it." 
 
 He took a flower from the table, looked at it a 
 moment and dropping it on the floor, he murmured, 
 lowering his eyes : 
 
COUNT KOST1A. 233 
 
 " I am an ignoramus ; tell me what is this love ? " 
 " It is the folly of friendship." 
 " Have you ever been foolish ? " 
 " No, and I do not imagine I ever shall be." 
 He remained motionless for a moment, his arms 
 hanging listlessly ; at length, raising them slowly, he 
 crossed his hands over his head, one of his favorite 
 attitudes, raised his eyes from the ground, and looked 
 steadily at me. Oh ! what a strange expression ! 
 His wild look, a sad and mysterious smile wandering 
 over his lips, his mouth which tried to speak, but to 
 which speech refused to come ! That face has been 
 constantly before me since last night; it pursues me, 
 possesses me, and even at this moment its image is 
 stamped in the paper 1 am writing on. This black 
 velvet tunic, then, may be a forced disguise ? Yes, 
 the character of Stephane, his mind, the singular 
 ity of his conduct, all these things which astonished 
 and frightened me are now explained. Gilbert, Gil 
 bert ! what have you done ? into what abyss .... 
 And yet, perhaps I am mistaken, for how can I be 
 lieve There is the dinner bell .... I shall see 
 
 him again ! I tremble, I feel within me .... Oh my 
 poor tormented heart, hide your emotion at least 
 from their eyes ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SOME hours later, Gilbert entered Stephane s 
 room, and struck by his pallor and with the troubled 
 expression of his voice, inquired about him anxiously. 
 
 " I assure you I am very well," Stephane replied, 
 mastering his emotion. " Have you brought me any 
 flowers ? " 
 
 " No, I have had no time to go for them." 
 
234 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 "That is to say, you have not had time to think 
 of me." 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon ! I can think of you 
 while working, while reading Greek, even while 
 sleeping. And last night I saw you in my dreams : 
 you treated me as the pedant, and threw your cap in 
 my face." 
 
 " That was a very extravagant dream." 
 
 " I am not so sure about that. It seems to me 
 that one day " 
 
 " Yes, one day, two centuries ago." 
 
 " Is it then so long since our acquaintance com 
 menced ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not two centuries, but nearly. As for 
 me, I have already lived three lives : my first I 
 passsed with my mother. The second let us not 
 speak of that. The third began upon the night 
 when, for the first time, you climbed into this win 
 dow. And that must have been a long time ago, if I 
 can judge of it by all which has passed v since then, 
 in my soul, in my imagination, and in my mincl. Is 
 it possible that these two centuries have only been 
 two months ? How can it be that such great changes 
 have been wrought in me, in so short a time, for they 
 are so marvellous that I can hardly recognize my 
 self?" 
 
 " One of these changes, of which I am proud, is 
 that you ncrtonger throw your cap at my head." 
 
 " That was a liberty I took only with the pedant." 
 
 " And are you at last reconciled to him ? " 
 
 " I have discovered that the pedant does not ex 
 ist, There is a hero and a philosopher in you." 
 
 " That is a discovery I did not expect from you, 
 and one that astonishes as much as it flatters me." 
 
 " When I tell you that I am changed throughout, 
 and that I no longer tecognize myself 
 
 "And I, in spite of your transformation, recog 
 nize you very easily. My dear Stephane has pre 
 served his habit of exaggerating all his impressions. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 235 
 
 Once I was a man who ought to be smothered ; now 
 I am an extraordinary being who passes his life in 
 executing heroic projects. No, my poet, I am neither 
 a scoundrel nor a knight errant, and the best that can 
 be said of me is that I am not a blockhead, that I do 
 not lack heart, and that I run over the roofs with re 
 markable agility. Upon this last point, I am ready 
 to maintain against all, that in pirouetting on rafters I 
 have no equal ; but this is not all, for to exhaust the 
 catalogue of my perfections, it is proper to add that I 
 have eyes of periwinkle color, that I tie the bow of 
 my cravat marvellously, and that I know how to dis 
 tinguish between a labiate and a papilionaceous 
 plant." 
 
 " Silence ! " cried Stephane, with the impetuosity 
 of former times. " Silence ! I forbid you to speak in 
 this tone of my patron saint, my guardian angel ; of 
 the incomparable friend who has saved me from de 
 spair, folly and death." Then, in a more gentle tone : 
 
 " No, I exaggerate nothing. I speak of things as 
 they are, and the proof that you are an extraordinary 
 man is, that in all you do, you appear perfectly sim 
 ple and natural." 
 
 And as Gilbert shrugged his shoulders and smiled : 
 
 "Ah! you need not laugh?" he continued: 
 " Feel my pulse, you will see I have no fever. And 
 have you not noticed how calm I have been for sev 
 eral days ? " 
 
 " I confess that your quietness surprises me ; but 
 is it really a calm ? I suspect that you have only cov 
 ered the brazier, and that the fife smoulders under 
 the ashes." 
 
 " And you stir up the ashes to draw out sparks. 
 As you please, but I forewarn you, that you will not 
 succeed, and that I shall remain insensible to all your 
 efforts." 
 
 " So, for a week, you have really felt more tran 
 quil in heart and mind ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I have a good reason for it. There 
 
236 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 was a great fomentor of seditions in me, a great stir- 
 rer up of rebellion. It was my pride. Very well ! 
 you know the pretty scene I enacted for you ten days 
 ago ; that fine discourse upon the henbane that was 
 the despairing blow of my pride, which plays its 
 pranks even to the last, and feeling itself wounded 
 unto death, wished to sell its life dearly." 
 
 " All that is very mysterious to me." 
 
 " Yes, it is a great mystery which it is full time I 
 unfolded to you." 
 
 " Speak then, I will listen to you with religious at 
 tention," said Gilbert, who was almost breathless. 
 
 Stephane hid his face in his hands ; then after a 
 long silence : 
 
 " No," said he, " I have not the courage to speak 
 yet. Besides, before making my revelation, which 
 you will perhaps consider extravagant, I want to 
 prove to you more thoroughly that my senses have 
 been restored, and that I have become wise in your 
 school. Know, then, that before I became acquainted 
 with you, religion was in my eyes but a coarse magic 
 in which I believed with passionate irrationality. I 
 considered prayer as a kind of sorcery, and attributed 
 to it the power of compelling the divine will ; every 
 day I called upon Heaven to perform a miracle in my 
 favor, and, finding myself refused, my ungranted 
 prayers fell back like lead upon my heart. Then I 
 rebelled against the celestial intelligences which re 
 fused to yield to my enchantments, or else I sought 
 in anguish to ascertain to what error in form, to what 
 neglected precaution, to what sin of omission I could 
 attribute the impotence of my operations in magic 
 and my formulas. Ah ! Saint George, Saint Sergius, 
 if you couid speak, what strange revelations you 
 might make to him ! You could tell of the extrava 
 gant questions heaped upon you, the absurd prodi 
 gies I implored from your swords, the importunities 
 with which I wearied your patience, and by turns my 
 kneelings, my prostrations, my sobs, the torrents of 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 tears which I shed at your feet, my head beating the 
 walls or sweeping the flagging with its dishevelled 
 hair : then suddenly my indignation, my eyes flashing 
 fury, cries of rage, transports, abuse ; my hands in de 
 lirium threatening heaven, and my feet grinding your 
 golden aureoles under their senseless stamping. Ah ! 
 my friend, that I have become absolutely incapable 
 of such follies, I should not like to swear ; but what I 
 do know is, that one evening . . . that evening, my 
 Gilbert, when your eloquence at once so tranquil and 
 so passionate, had taken a sublime flight, and by 
 means of a poor camomile flower with its pale face, 
 you tried to reveal to me some of the grand laws of 
 nature. I had listened to you with an inattentive ear ; 
 but after your departure, as is often the case with 
 me, all that you had said returned vividly to my mind ; 
 and forgetting the past, the present forgetting even 
 my existence, I darted away from this castle and flew 
 into space away to that sapphire star which I see 
 from my window sparkling in the horizon ; and from 
 the height of that aerial belvedere, I began to con 
 verse with that supreme reason which manifests itself 
 equally in the little wild flowers, and in the splendors 
 of the night. Then, suddenly feeling a strange 
 sweetness pervading to the very depths of my being, 
 I asked myself: Is this religion? And I answered: 
 Yes, religion ; and that is to feel content in the truth. 
 My Gilbert, what I felt that day I may not feel again 
 for a long time ; but is it not enough that I have 
 tasted, once in my life, of such holy delights, to be no 
 longer treated by you as an irrational child that one 
 would be ashamed to talk to seriously ? " 
 
 Gilbert answered only by a pressure of the hand. 
 
 "Alas ! " said he to himself, " when he has revealed 
 his secret, I shall no longer have the right to tell him 
 that he is foolish." 
 
 " You have become more tractable," continued 
 Stephane, " which gives me courage to proceed. It 
 was once my habit, I will tell you further, after hav- 
 
238 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ing prayed, to seat myself there upon the floor be 
 neath the night-lamp, and closing my eyes, aban 
 don myself to long hours of insane revery. These were 
 veritable visions, I assure you, so well did I succeed 
 in presenting to myself the chimeras with which I 
 soothed my mind. I saw the heavens open and the 
 Eternal Father holding council in his palace. 
 Celestial spirits, said he, pressing his hand over his 
 white beard, it is full time to come to the aid of this 
 child. And immediately he gave orders to his mes 
 sengers and servants. St. George clothed himself in 
 his shining armor and descended through the air 
 with the voice of thunder ; with one blow of his for 
 midable sword he clove this gloomy castle in twain ; 
 the walls fell in ; I felt myself raised in space ; angels 
 bore me upon their wings of fire, and proceeded to 
 deposit me in some flowery isle, where my mother 
 and happiness awaited me. Sometimes I contented 
 myself with tasting the bitter pleasures of vengeance. 
 By the order of God, devils penetrated here, armed 
 with their flaming forks ; they seized Ivan by the 
 throat, put him upon the wheel, upon the gridiron. . . . 
 ^n and hideous imaginations, which served but to 
 aggravate my pain and to redouble my terrors. 
 
 " Well, my Gilbert, the other evening you spoke 
 to me here of a joy which owes nothing to fortune, 
 and on which it has no influence ; a divine joy which 
 man can taste even in the midst of suffering, and 
 which beguiles away his most gloomy weariness. 
 You had hardly gone when I seated myself at the 
 feet of the saints, and having recited my orisons, 
 gave myself up to revery ; but this time I no longer 
 imagined the Eternal Father forgetting the universe 
 but to occupy himself with my fate ; I saw no more 
 devils torturing my jailer. It was Christ who 
 appeared before me, clothed in a black mantle. He 
 stood upright in mid heaven, and suns pressed in a 
 crowd about him, the better to see his face, as curi 
 ous children make a row to see the king pass in a 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 239 
 
 street. The silent earth contemplated him also ; the 
 trembling ocean threw off its crests of foam; the 
 palm trees waved gently upon their rocks, and great 
 eagles, with extended wings, whirled slowly, tracing 
 in the empty air a long train of fire. Then he turned 
 aside the folds of his robe, and displayed a large 
 wound, from which flowed the red blood, at sight of 
 which, a smile so sweet flitted over his lips, that one 
 would have supposed a new dawn was rising over the 
 universe. And still his blood flowed constantly, 
 and the stars, the ocean, the palm trees of the desert, 
 the eagles of heaven, all distracted, cried out, Lord, 
 who then are you ? Then a voice, sweet as the sigh 
 of an organ, answered them, I am joy in suffering. " 
 
 At these words Stephane s eyes kindled and . 
 looked steadily at Gilbert. 
 
 "And now am I nothing but a charmed dreamer, 
 a half crazy child, a sick brain feeding on crotchets, 
 an incorrigible, wrong-headed follow ? No, you admit 
 that I have profited by your lessons; that a grain of 
 wisdom has fallen into my brain, and that without 
 having seen the bottom of things, I have at least 
 lucid intervals. If this be so, my Gilbert, believe 
 what I am going to say as you would the Holy Bible. 
 You have worked with all your strength to cure my 
 soul, and there is not a more skillful physician in the 
 world than you. But all of your trouble would have 
 been lost, if you had not had by your side an all-pow 
 erful ally, whom you don t know, and whom I am 
 about to reveal to you. Ah ! tell me, when you came 
 in this room the first time, did you not feel that a cel 
 estial spirit followed in your track and entered with 
 with you ? You went, he remained, and has not left 
 me, and never will. Look, do not these walls speak 
 of him ? Do not these saints move their lips to mur 
 mur his name to you? And the air we breathe here, 
 is it not full of those delicious perfumes which these 
 envoys of Heaven scatter in their earthward jour 
 neys ? How strange this spirit appeared to me at 
 
240 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 first ! His face was all unknown to me, it had never 
 appeared to me in my dreams. Startled and bewil 
 dered, I said to him : Who then art thou ? What is 
 thy name ? And one day, Gilbert, one day, it was 
 through your mouth that he answered me. Gilbert, 
 Gilbert, oh ! what a singular company you have in 
 troduced to me in his person. Sometimes he seated 
 himself near me, pale, melancholy, clothed in mourn 
 ing, and breathed into my heart a venomous bitter 
 ness, such as I had never dreamed of. And feeling 
 myself seized with an inexpressible desire to die ; I 
 cried out I know you, you must be the brother of 
 death ? But all at once transforming himself, he ap 
 peared to me holding a fool s cap in his hand. He 
 shock the bells and sang to me songs which filled my 
 e.ars with feverish murmurings. My head turned, 
 smoke floated before me, my dazzled eyes were in 
 toxicated with visions, and it seemed to me, poor 
 child, nourished with gall and tears, that life was an 
 eternal fete, upon which Heaven looked down smil 
 ing. Then I said to the spirit : Now I know you 
 better, you are the brother of folly. But he changed 
 himself again, and suddenly I saw him standing erect 
 before me folded in the long white wings of the sera 
 phim ; at once serious and gentle, divine reason 
 shone in his deep eyes and the serenity on his brow 
 announced an inhabitant of heaven. In these mo 
 ments, my Gilbert, his voice was more penetrating 
 and more persuasive than yours ; he repeated your 
 words and gave me strength to believe in them ; he 
 engraved your lessons on my mind; he instilled your 
 wisdom into my folly, your soul in my soul; and 
 know that if the lily has drunk the juices of the 
 earth, if the lily has grown, if the lily should blossom 
 one day, it shall not be from the impotent sun rays 
 which you brought to me in your breast, to which 
 thanks must be rendered ; but to him, the celestial 
 spirit, to him who lighted in my heart a divine flame 
 with which, may it please God that yours too may be 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 241 
 
 illuminated ! " And rising at these words, he almost 
 gasped : " Have I said enough ? " Do you under 
 stand me at last ? " 
 
 " No ! " answered Gilbert, resolutely, " I do not 
 know this celestial spirit at all." 
 
 Stephane writhed his arms. 
 
 " Cruel ! you do not wish then to divine any 
 thing ! " murmured he, distractedly. And going to 
 the window, he stood some moments leaning against 
 it. When he turned towards Gilbert, his eyes were 
 wet with tears ; but by one of those rapid changes 
 which were familiar to him, he had a smile upon his 
 lips, " What I dare not say to you, I have just now 
 written," resumed he, drawing a letter from his 
 bosom. 
 
 " It was a last resort which I hoped you would 
 not force me to call to my aid. Oh hard heart ! to 
 what humiliations have you not abased my pride ! " 
 He presented the letter, but changing his mind, he 
 said: 
 
 " I wish to add a few words to it." 
 
 And ran and seated himself at the table. His 
 pen had fallen on the floor, and not being able to 
 find it, he quickly sharpened a pencil with a keen 
 edged poniard which he drew from the depths of a 
 drawer. 
 
 " What a singular penknife you have there," said 
 Gilbert approaching him. 
 
 " It is a Russian stiletto of Toula manufacture. 
 It belongs to Ivan, he lent it to me day before yester 
 day, when we were out walking, to uproot a plant 
 with. He has forgotten to take it back." 
 
 " You will oblige me by returning it to him," an 
 swered Gilbert, " it is a plaything I don t like to see 
 in your hands." 
 
 Stephane gave a sign of assent, and bent over the 
 paper. The letter which he had written was as fol 
 lows : 
 
 " My Gilbert, listen to a story. I was eleven 
 16 
 
242 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 years old when my brother Stephane died. Scarcely 
 was he buried when my father called me to him. 
 He held in his hand a suit of clothes like these I wear 
 now, and he said to me : Stephane, understand me 
 clearly. It was my daughter that just died, my son 
 lives still. And as I persisted in not understanding 
 him, he had a coffin brought in, placed on a table 
 and he laid me in it ; and closing the cover by de 
 grees, he said, My daughter, are you dead ? When 
 it was entirely closed, I decided to speak, and I cried 
 out, Father, your daughter is dead. It shall be 
 as you desire. Then he drew me out of the coffin 
 half dead with fear and horror, and exclaimed, Ste 
 phane, remember that my daughter is dead. Should 
 you ever happen to forget it .... He said no more, 
 but his eyes finished the sentence. Gilbert, at this 
 moment the daughter of my father comes back to 
 life to tell you that she loves you with an unconquer 
 able love which she can no longer conceal. In my 
 simplicity, I thought at first that I loved you as you 
 loved me ; but you yourself have taken care to un 
 deceive me. One day you spoke of our approaching 
 separation, and you said to me : We shall see each 
 other sometimes ! And you did not hear the cry of 
 my heart which answered you ; to pass a day without 
 seeing you ! What a hell ! 
 
 " When I had fairly comprehended that your friend 
 ship was a devotion, a virtue, a wisdom, and that 
 mine was a folly, then the daughter of my father 
 thought of dying, so bitter were the torments which 
 her rebellious pride inflicted upon her. Ah ! what 
 would I not have given, my Gilbert, if, divining who I 
 was, you had fallen at my feet crying : I too know 
 how to love madly ! 
 
 " But no ; you have understood nothing, suspected 
 nothing. My hair, the resemblance to my mother im 
 printed on my face, the smile, which they tell me, pass 
 ed from her lips to mine. ... Oh ! blindest of men ! 
 how I have hated you at moments ! But does it not 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 243 
 
 really seem that a fatality pursues me ? That hand 
 with its iron grip fastened on my shoulder, and forc 
 ing me to prostrate myself before you, I feel no 
 longer, with its nails pressing into my flesh ; and 
 yet my knees, trembling, powerless, bend under 
 me, and again you see me fall at your feet. 
 Yes, my poor pride is dead indeed. The thun 
 der growled when it gave up its last breath. You 
 remember that stormy night. Glued to the window 
 pane, I tried to pierce the darkness with my eyes, to 
 discern you in the midst of the tempest. All at once 
 the heavens were ablaze, and I saw you standing 
 upon the ledge of your windowj bending proudly over 
 the abyss, at which you seemed to hurl defiance. En 
 veloped in flashing light, you appeared to me like a 
 blissful spirit, and I exclaimed to myself: This is 
 one of the elect of God ! I can ask of him without 
 shame for indulgence and mercy ! And now, my 
 Gilbert, do not presume to tell me that my love is 
 a malady, which needs only careful attention. Oh 
 God ! all that would be useless ; the saints them 
 selves have refused to cure me. Do not try to ter 
 rify me, either, or speak to me of insurmountable ob 
 stacles to our union ; of dangers which threaten us. 
 The future ! We will talk of that hereafter. Now, 
 I want to know but one thing ; that is, if you are ca 
 pable of loving me as I love you ? Friend, if hatred 
 can change into love, would it be impossible for 
 friendship ? . . . Gilbert, Gilbert, forget what the re 
 fined barbarity of my father has made of me ; forget 
 my gusts of passion, my violence, the unruliness of 
 a badly educated child ; forget the vehemence of my 
 language, the rudeness of my actions; forget the 
 fountain ; my whip raised to you ; forget those young 
 villagers I compelled to kiss my feet ; forget even 
 the cap which I threw in your face, for, Heaven is my 
 witness, I feel a woman s heart awakened in my 
 bosom ; it shakes off its long sleep, it stirs, it sighs, it 
 
244 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 speaks, and the first name it utters, the only one it 
 ever wants to know, is yours ! . . . 
 
 " What more shall I say ? I would like to ap 
 pear to you in your dreams decked as if for a fete : 
 clothed in white, a smile upon my lips, pearls about 
 my neck, around my head the flowers you love 
 white anemones and blue gentians. Only take care, 
 some of the henbane flowers have slipped into my 
 crown. Tear them from my hair yourself, lest their per 
 fume instill a deadly poison into my heart. But no, 
 I do not wish to frighten you. Stephane is wise; she 
 is reasonable ; she does not ask the impossible ; she 
 gives you time to breathe ; to recover yourself. Wait, 
 if you wish it, a week, a fortnight, a month, before 
 coming here again ; until that blessed day dawns 
 when you can say with your adored poet : In its 
 turn, friendship revealed its power to my heart, and 
 at length love, coming last, crowned it with flowers 
 and fruit. " 
 
 To this letter Stephane added these words : "And 
 if that day, Gilbert, if that day should never come " 
 
 But here she hesitated; her hand trembled; she 
 looked alternately at Gilbert and the knife ; then ris 
 ing 
 
 " I do not know how to finish my letter," she said. 
 " You can easily supply what is lacking. But you 
 must not read it here ; carry it to your turret; you 
 will meditate upon it there more at leisure." 
 
 And at these words, having returned the paper to 
 him, she burst into a fit of laughter. 
 
 "Again that same laugh, which I detest," said 
 Gilbert, trying to hide the anguish which was con 
 suming him. 
 
 " Do you want to know what it means ? " said the 
 young girl, looking him in the face. " When we were 
 at Baden-Baden, three years ago, Father Alexis had 
 a fancy to take me to a gambling house, and in enter 
 ing I heard a burst of laughter much resembling 
 those which shock you so. * Who is laughing in 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 24$ 
 
 that way ? said I to the good father. He found on 
 inquiring that it was a man who had just gained 
 enormous sums, and who was preparing to play dou 
 ble or quits. 
 
 " Double or quits ! " added she ; " to play double 
 or quits ! If I should lose " 
 
 All at once her eyes dilated, and shot fire ; she 
 turned her head backward, and raising her arm 
 towards Gilbert, she exclaimed : 
 
 " You know who I am, and you have condemned 
 me in your heart. Ah ! think twice ; you have my 
 life in your hands." And recoiling a few steps she 
 suddenly turned, fled across the room, threw open a 
 small side-door and disappeared. 
 
 How did Gilbert manage to reach his turret ? 
 
 All he knows himself is. that on coming out of 
 the dormer window, beside himself, forgetting all 
 idea of danger, he committed, for the first time, the 
 signal imprudence of walking erectly over the roof, 
 which ordinarily he found difficult to cross even 
 in crawling ; seeing and hearing nothing, entirely 
 absorbed in a single thought, he started forward at a 
 quick pace. From his gait and carriage, the moon, 
 which shone brightly in the sky, must have taken 
 him for a madman, or a somnambulist. He reached 
 the end of the roof, when a broken slate slipped 
 under his feet. He lost his balance, fell heavily, and 
 it would have been all over with him, if, in falling, 
 his hand had not by a miracle encountered the trail 
 ing end of his ladder, by which he had strength 
 enough to hold himself. Slates are brittle, and when 
 hurled against a hard substance break in a thousand 
 pieces. The one which Gilbert had just precipitated 
 into space met a point of rock which scattered it into 
 fragments, one of which struck, without wounding, 
 the hand of a man who happened to be rambling an 
 hour on the border of the ravine. 
 
 As fate would have it, this evening M. Leminof 
 had an important letter to forward by the mail ; and 
 
246 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 near nine o clock, contrary to all the usages and cus 
 toms of his house, he had sent Fritz to a large town 
 about a league distant, where the courier passed 
 during the night. Unluckily, upon his return, Fritz 
 saw a light shining in the cottage of his Dulcinea. Ap 
 petite, the opportunity, some devil also urging him, 
 he left the road, walked straight to the cabin, opened 
 the door, which was only closed by a latch, entered 
 with stealthy tread, and surprised his beauty seated 
 upon a stool and mending her linen. He drew near 
 her, said gallant things to her, and soon began to 
 take liberties. The damsel, frolicsome and forward, 
 instead of awakening her father, who slept in the 
 neighboring room, rushed to the door, darted out and 
 gained upon a run the serpentine path which ran 
 along the edge of the ravine. A hundred times more 
 active than Fritz, she kept in advance of him ; then 
 halted, called him, and the moment when he thought 
 he was going to seize her, she escaped and ran on 
 faster. She continued this game until becoming 
 weary she hid herself behind a bush, and laughing in 
 her sleeve, saw the amorous giant pass her, continue 
 to ascend, reeking with sweat, slipping frequently and 
 constantly fearing he would fall down the precipice. 
 At length, by dint of scrambling, he arrived at the 
 place where the path ended at the perpendicular fall 
 of the precipice, a height of forty feet. By what 
 means had his fantastic princess scaled this wall? 
 All at once he heard a silvery voice which called him 
 from below. In his rage he struck his forehead with 
 his fist ; but at the moment he was about to descend, 
 a singular noise struck his ear a piece of slate 
 grazed his hand and drew from him an exclamation 
 of surprise. Raising his head quickly, and favored 
 by the light of the moon, he saw upon his right a 
 shadow suspended in the air. It mounted, stopped 
 upon the ledge of a window, stooped down and soon 
 disappeared. 
 
 " Oh ! oh 1 " said he, much astonished, " here s 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 247 
 
 something odd ! Monsieur secretary goes out at 
 night, then, to make the rounds of the roofs ? And for 
 this we have provided ourselves with rope ladders. I 
 am much mistaken if his Excellency, the Count, will 
 relish this little amusement. Peste, the jolly fellow 
 has a good foot and a good eye. There must be a 
 great deal to gain to risk his skin this way. Faith ! 
 these demure faces are not to be trusted." 
 
 The great Fritz was so stupefied with his discov 
 ery that he seated himself a moment upon a stone to- 
 collect his thoughts. The fine idea which his thick 
 skull brought forth was that the secretary belonged 
 to the illustrious brotherhood of ambidexters, and 
 that his nocturnal circuits had for their object the 
 search for a hidden treasure. Proud of his sagacity, 
 and delighted with the opportunity to satisfy his re 
 sentment, he descended the path, not without trouble, 
 and deaf to the voice and the laughter of his enchan - 
 tre^s, who challenged him to new trials, he regained 
 the road and strode on to the castle. 
 
 " Oh ! then, Mr. Secretary," said the knave to 
 himself with a wicked smile, " you threw me down a 
 staircase, and thought you d get me turned out of 
 doors. What will you say if I make you go out by 
 the window ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The next day it was the second Sunday of Sep 
 tember Gilbert went out at about ten o clock in the 
 morning and directed his steps to a wild and solitary 
 retreat. It was a narrow glade upon the borders of 
 a little pond dried up by the summer heat, near which 
 he had often gathered plants for Stephane. Among 
 groups of trees which straggled up on all sides, under 
 
248 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 a patch of blue sky, a ground of blackish clay, cracked 
 and creviced, herbage, dried rushes ; here and there 
 some patches of stagnant water, the surface of which 
 was rippled by the gambols of the aquatic spider ; 
 further on a large tuft of long-plumed reeds, which 
 shivered at the least breath and rocked upon their 
 trembling stems drowsy red butterflies and pen 
 sive dragon flies ; upon the steep banks of the 
 pond, sad flowers, pond weed, the marsh clover, 
 the sand plantain ; in a corner, a willow with 
 roots laid bare, which hung over the exhausted 
 pool as if looking for its lost reflection ; around 
 about, nettles, briars, dry heather, furze stripped 
 of its blossoms ; that damp and heavy atmos 
 phere which is natural to humid places ; the light of 
 day thinly veiled by the exhalations from the earth ; 
 an odor of decaying plants, long silence interrupted 
 by dull sounds ; an air of abandonment, of idleness, 
 of lassitude, the melancholy languor of a life de 
 parting regretfully ; the recollection of something 
 which was, and will never reappear, never ! Such 
 was the word which this wild solitude murmured to 
 Gilbert s ear. Never ! repeated he to himself, and 
 his heart was oppressed by a sense of the irretrieva 
 ble. He seated himself upon the sward, a few steps 
 from the willow, his elbows upon his knees and his 
 head in his hands, and lost himself in long and pain 
 ful meditation. I shall tell all ; he felt at intervals in 
 the depths of his being, in the very depths, the agita 
 tion of a secret joy which he dared not confess to 
 himself; but it was a passing movement of his 
 soul which he did not succeed in denning in the 
 midst of the whirlwind which shook him. And then 
 in such a moment, he thought but little of asking him 
 self what he could or could not feel. His mind was 
 elsewhere. Sometimes he sought to picture to him 
 self all the successive phases of this, unhappy exis 
 tence, of which, henceforth, he held the key ; some 
 times he felt a tender admiration for the energy and 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 249 
 
 elasticity of this young soul which unparalleled mis 
 fortunes had not been able to crush. And now to 
 abandon him, to break such close and sweet ties, was 
 it not to condemn him to despair, to deliver him up a 
 a victim to the violence of his passions rendered more 
 violent by unhappiness ? Ought he not at least to at 
 tempt to draw from this impulsive heart this fatal ar 
 row, this baleful love which to his eyes was a danger, 
 an extravagance, a calamity ? And from reflection 
 to reflection, from anxiety to anxiety, he always re 
 turned to deplore his own blindness. The eccentri 
 cities of Stephane s conduct, certain salient points in 
 his character, the passionate abandon of his language ; 
 his face, his hair, his glances, the charm of his smile ; 
 how was it that so many indications had escaped 
 him ? And this want of penetration which resulted 
 from the rather unromantic character of his mind, he 
 attributed to bluntness of sensibility and charged him 
 self with it as a crime. He was profoundly absorbed in 
 his revery when the cry of a raven aroused him. He 
 opened his eyes, and when he had lost sight of the 
 croaking bird, which crossed the giade in rapid flight, 
 he looked for a moment at a handsome, variegated 
 butterfly which fluttered about the willow ; then no 
 ticing in the grass, within reach of his hand, a pretty lit 
 tle marsh flower, he drew it carefully from the soil with 
 its root and set about its examination with an atten 
 tive eye. He admired the purple tint of its pistil and 
 the gold of its stamens, which contracted charmingly 
 with the brilliant whiteness of the petals, and said un 
 consciously : " There is a lovely flower which I have 
 not yet shown to my Stephane : I must carry it to 
 him." 
 
 But instantly recollecting himself, and throwing 
 away the innocent flower spitefully, he exclaimed : 
 " Oh, fortune, what singular games you play !" 
 " Yes, fortune is singular ! " answered a voice 
 which was not unknown to him ; and before he had 
 time to turn, Dr. Vladimir was seated beside him. 
 
250 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Vladimir Paulitch had employed his morning 
 well. Scarcely out of bed, he had given a private 
 audience to Fritz, who, not daring to address his 
 master directly, for his frowns always, made him 
 tremble, had come to ask the doctor to receive his 
 revelations and obligingly transmit them to his Excel 
 lency. When in an excited and mysterious tone he 
 had disclosed his important secret : 
 
 "There is nothing astonishing in that," replied 
 Vladimir coldly. " This young man is a somnam 
 bulist, and the conclusion of your little story is, that 
 his window must be barred. I will speak to Count 
 Kostia about it." 
 
 Upon which Fritz slunk away discomfited and 
 much confused at the turn the adventure had taken. 
 
 After his departure Vladimir Paulitch concluded 
 to take a walk upon the grassy hillock, and on his 
 way said to himself: "Have my suspicions, then, 
 been well founded ? " 
 
 He had passed an hour among the rocks, study 
 ing the spot, examining the aspect of the castle from 
 this side, and particularly the irregularities of the 
 roof. As his eyes rested on the square tower which 
 Stephane occupied, he saw him appear at the win 
 dow, and remain there some moments, his eyes fixed 
 upon Gilbert s turret. 
 
 " Aha ! Now we see how matters stand ! " said 
 he, " but to risk his head in this way, our idealist 
 must be desperately in love. And he ll carry it 
 through ! We must find him and have a little chat." 
 
 In reascending to the castle, Vladimir had seen 
 Gilbert turn into the woods, and without being per 
 ceived, had followed him at a distance. 
 
 "Yes, fortune is singular!" repeated he, "and 
 we must resist it boldly and brave it resolutely, or 
 submit humbly to its caprices and die. This is but 
 reasonable ; half measures are the expedients of 
 fools. As for me, I have always been the partisan 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2$l 
 
 of sequere Deum, which I interpret thus : Take luck 
 for your guide, and walk on blindly. " 
 
 And as Gilbert made no answer, he continued : 
 
 " May I presume to ask you what caused you to 
 say, just now, that fortune plays us odd tricks ? " 
 
 " I was thinking," replied Gilbert, tranquilly, 
 "of the emperor Constantine the Great, who you 
 know " 
 
 " Ah ! that is too much," interrupted Vladi 
 mir. " What ! on a beautiful morning, in the midst 
 of the woods, before a little dried-up pond, which is 
 not without its poetry, seated in the grass with a 
 pretty white flower in your hand the emperor 
 Constantine the subject of your meditations? As 
 for me, I have not such a well-balanced head, and I 
 will confess to you that just now, in rambling among 
 the thickets, I was entirely occupied with the singu 
 lar games of my own destiny, and what is more sin 
 gular still, I felt the necessity of relating them to some 
 one." 
 
 " You surprise me," replied Gilbert ; I did not 
 think you so communicative." 
 
 " And who of us," resumed Vladimir, " never 
 contradicts his own character ? In Russia the duties 
 of my position oblige me to be reserved, secret, 
 enveloped in mystery from head to foot, a great pon 
 tiff of science, speaking but in brief sentences and in 
 an oracular tone ; but here I am not obliged to play 
 my role, and by a natural reaction, finding myself alone 
 in the woods with a man of se nse and of heart, my 
 tongue unloosens like a magpie s. Let us see ; if I 
 tell you my history do you promise to be discreet ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly. But if you must have a confi 
 dant, how happens it that intimate as you are with 
 Count Kostia " 
 
 " Ah ! precisely, when you know my history you 
 will understand for what reason in my interviews 
 with Kostia Petrovitch I speak often of him, but 
 rarely of myself." 
 
252 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 And at these words Vladimir Paulitch turned up 
 his sleeves, and showing his wrists to Gilbert; 
 " Look ! " he said. " Do you see any mark, any 
 scar ? " 
 
 " No, I cannot detect any." 
 
 "That is strange. For forty years, however, I 
 have worn handcuffs, for such as you see me I, 
 Vladimir Paulitch; I, one of the first physicians of 
 Russia ; I, the learned physiologist, I am the refuse 
 of the earth, I am Ivan s equal ; in a word, I am a 
 serf ! " 
 
 " You a serf ! " exclaimed Gilbert stupefied. 
 
 " You should not be so greatly astonished ; such 
 things are common in Russia," said Vladimir Pau 
 litch, with a faint smile. " Yes, sir," he resumed, I 
 am one of Count Kostia s serfs, and you may imagine 
 whether or not I am grateful to him for having 
 had the goodness to fashion from the humble clay 
 of which nature had formed one of his moujiks, the 
 glorious statue of doctor Vladimir Paulitch. How 
 ever, of all the favors he has heaped upon me the 
 one which troubles me most is, that, thanks to his 
 discretion, there were but two men in the world, him 
 self and myself, who knew me for what I am. Now 
 there are three. 
 
 " My parents," continued he, " were Ukraine 
 peasants, and my first profession was taking care of 
 sheep ; but I was a born physician. The sick, 
 whether men or sheep, were to my mind the most 
 interesting of spectacles. I procured some books, 
 acquired a slight knowledge of anatomy and chemis 
 try, and by turns I dissected, and hunted for simples, 
 the virtues of which I tried with indefatigable ardor. 
 Poor, lacking all resources, brought up from infancy 
 in foolish superstitions, from which I had trouble in 
 emancipating myself; living in the midst of coarse, 
 ignorant men degraded by slavery, nothing could 
 repulse me or discourage me. I felt myself born to 
 decipher the great book of nature, and to wring from 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 253 
 
 it her secrets. I had the good fortune to discover 
 some specifics against the rot and tag sore. That 
 rendered me famous within a circuit of three leagues. 
 After quadrupeds, I tried my hand on bipeds. I 
 effected several happy cures, and people came from 
 all parts to consult me. Proud as Artaban, the little 
 shepherd, seated beneath the shade of a tree, uttered 
 his infallible oracles, and they were believed all the 
 more implicitly, as nature had given to his eyes 
 that veiled and impenetrable expression calculated to 
 impose upon fools. The land to which I belonged 
 was owned by a venerable relative of Count Kostia. 
 At her death she left her property to him. He 
 came to see his new domain ; heard of me, had me 
 brought into his presence, questioned me, and was 
 struck with my natural gifts and precocious genius. 
 He had already proposed to found a hospital in one 
 of his villages where he resided during the summer, 
 and it occurred to him that he could some day make 
 me useful there. I went with him to Moscow. Con 
 cealing my position from every one, he had me in 
 structed with the greatest care. Masters, books, 
 money, I had in profusion. So great was my happi 
 ness that I hardly dared to believe in it, and I was 
 sometimes obliged to bite my finger to assure myself 
 that I was not in a dream. When I reached the age 
 of twenty, Kostia Petrovitch made me enter the 
 school of medicine, and some years later I directed 
 his hospital and a private asylum which he founded 
 by my advice. My talents and success soon made me 
 known. I was spoken of at Moscow and was called 
 there upon consultations. Thus I was in a fair way 
 to make a fortune, and what gratified me still more, 
 I was sought after, feted, courted, fawned upon. The 
 little shepherd, the moujik, had become King and more 
 than King, for a successful physician is adored as a 
 god by his patients ; and I do not believe that a pretty 
 woman gratifies her lovers with half the smiles which 
 she lavishes freely upon the magician upon whom de- 
 
254 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 pends her life and her youth. At this time, sir, I was 
 still religious. Imagine the place Count Kostia held 
 in my prayers, and with what fervor I implored for 
 him the intercession of the saints and of the blessed 
 Mary. Prosperity, nevertheless, has this much of 
 evil in it ; it makes a man forget his former self. 
 
 " Intoxicated with my glory and success, I forgot 
 too soon my youth and my sheep, and this forgetful- 
 ness ruined me. I was called to attend a cavalry 
 officer retired from service. He had a daughter 
 named Pauline ; she was beautiful and charming. I 
 thought myself insensible to love, but I had hardly 
 seen her before I conceived a violent passion for 
 her. Bear in mind that I had lived until that time as 
 pure as an ascetic monk ; science had been my 
 adored and lofty mistress. When passion fires a 
 chaste heart, it becomes a fury there. I loved Pau 
 line with frenzy, with idolatry. One day she gave 
 me to understand that my folly did not displease her. 
 I declared myself to her father, obtained his consent, 
 and felt as if I should die of happiness. The next 
 day I sought Count Kostia, and telling him my story, 
 supplicated him to emancipate me. He laughed, and 
 declared such an extravagant idea was unworthy of 
 me. Marriage was not what I required. A wife, 
 children, useless encumbrances in my life ! Petty de 
 lights and domestic cares would extinguish the -fire 
 of my genius, would kill in me the spirit of research 
 and vigor of thought. Besides, was my passion seri 
 ous ? From what he knew of my disposition, I was 
 incapable of loving. It was a fantastic trick which 
 my imagination had played me. Only remain a week 
 without seeing Pauline, and I would be cured. My 
 only answer was to throw myself at his feet. I glued 
 my mouth to his hands, watered his knees with my 
 tears, and kissed the ground before him. He laughed 
 throughout, and asked me with a sneer, if to possess 
 Pauline it were necessary to marry her. My love 
 was an adoration. At these insulting words anger 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 255 
 
 took possession of me. I poured forth imprecations 
 and threats. Presently, however, recovering myself, 
 I begged him to forgive my transports, and resuming 
 the language of servile humility, I endeavored to 
 soften that heart of bronze with my tears. Trou 
 ble lost ; he remained inflexible. I rolled upon the 
 floor and tore my hair ; and he still laughed That 
 must have been a curious scene. Recollect that at 
 this epoch I was quite recherche in my costume. 
 I had an embroidered frill and very fine ruffles of 
 point (fAlen^on. I wore rings on every finger, and 
 my coat was of the latest style and of elegant cut. 
 Fancy, also, that my deportment, my gait, my air 
 breathed of pride and arrogance. Parvenues try it 
 in vain, they always betray themselves. I had a high 
 tone, an overbearing manner. I enveloped myself 
 in mysterious darkness, which obscured at times the 
 brightness of my genius, and as I had accomplished 
 several extraordinary cures, strongly resembling mir 
 acles, or tricks of sorcery, my airs of an inspired 
 priest did not seem out of place, and I had devotees 
 who encouraged these licenses of my pride by the 
 excess of their humility. And then, behold, sud 
 denly, this man of importance, this miraculous per 
 sonage, flat upon his face, imploring the mercy 
 of an inexorable master, writhing like a worm of the 
 earth under the foot which crushed his heart ! At 
 last Kostia Petrovitch lost patience, seized me in 
 his powerful hands, set me upon my feet, and push 
 ing me violently against the wall, cried in a voice 
 of thunder, Vladimir Paulitch, spare me your 
 effeminate contortions, and remember who I am and 
 who you are. One day I saw an ugly piece of char 
 coal in the road. I picked it up at the risk of soil 
 ing my fingers, and, as I am something of a chemist, 
 I put it in my crucible and converted it into a dia 
 mond. But just as I have set my jewel, and am about 
 to wear it on my finger, you ask me to give it up ! 
 Ah ! my son, I do not know what keeps me from 
 
256 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 sending you back to your sheep. Go, make an effort 
 to conquer your passion ; be reasonable, be yourself 
 again. Wait until my death, my will shall emanci 
 pate you ; but until then, even at the risk of your 
 displeasure, you shall be my thing, my property. 
 Take care you do not forget it, or I will shatter you 
 in pieces like this glass ; and, seizing a phial from 
 the table, he threw it against the wall, where it broke 
 in fragments. 
 
 " Sir, Count Kostia displayed a little too much 
 energy at the time, but at bottom he was right. Was 
 it just that he should lose ail the fruits of his trouble ? 
 Think what a gratification it was to his pride, to be 
 able to say to himself: the great doctor, so feted, so 
 admired, is my thing and my property. His words 
 were true ; he wore me as a ring upon his finger. 
 And then he foresaw the future. For two consecutive 
 years it has only been necessary for him to move the 
 end of his forefinger, to make me run from the heart 
 of Russia to soothe his poor tormented nerves. 
 You know how the heart of man is made. If he had 
 had the imprudence to emancipate me, I should have 
 come last year out of gratitude ; but this time " 
 
 While Vladimir spoke, Gilbert thought to himself, 
 "this man is truly the compatriot of Count Leminof." 
 
 And then recalling the amiable and generous 
 Muscovite with whom he had once been intimate, he 
 justly concluded that Russia is large, and that nature, 
 taking pleasure in contrasts, produces in that great 
 country alternately the hardest and the most tender 
 souls in the world. 
 
 " One word more," continued Vladimir, " Count 
 Kostia was right; but unfortunately passion will not 
 listen to reason. I left him with death in my heart, 
 but firmly resolved to cope with him and to carry my 
 point. You see that upon this occasion I observed 
 but poorly the great maxim, Sequere fatum. I flat 
 tered myself I should be able to stem the current. 
 Vain illusion ! but without it would one be in love ? 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Pauline lived in a small town at about two leagues 
 from our village. Whenever I had leisure, I mount 
 ed a horse and flew to her. The third day after the 
 terrible scene, I took a drive with this amiable girl 
 and her father. As we were about to leave the vil 
 lage, I was seized with a sudden trembling at the 
 sight of Count Kostia on the footpath, holding his 
 gold-headed cane under his arm and making his way 
 quietly towards us. He recognized us, smiled agree 
 ably and signed to the coachman to stop and to me 
 to descend. 
 
 " Plague upon the thoughtless fellow ! whip up, 
 coachman ! " cried Pauline gayly. 
 
 But I had already opened the door. 
 
 " Excuse me," said J, " I will be with you in a, 
 moment." 
 
 And while saying these words I was so pale, that 
 she became pale too, as if assailed by a dark present 
 iment. Kostia Petrovitch did not detain me long. 
 After saluting me with ceremonious politeness, he 
 said in a bantering tone : 
 
 " Vladimir, faith she is really charming. But I 
 am sorry to say that if your engagement is not broken 
 off before this evening, to-morrow this pretty girl will 
 learn from me who you are." 
 
 After which, saluting me again, he walked away 
 humming an aria. 
 
 " Money, sir, had always appeared to me so small 
 a thing compared with science and glory ; and besides, 
 my love for Pauline was so free from alloy, that I had 
 never conceived the idea of informing myself in 
 regard to her fortune, or the dowry which she might 
 bring to me. That evening, as we took tea together 
 in the parlor of my expected father-in-law, I con 
 trived to bring up this important question for consid 
 eration, and expressed views of such a selfish char 
 acter, and displayed such a sordid cupidity, that the 
 old officer at last became indignant. Pauline had a 
 proud soul ; she listened to us some time in silence, 
 17 
 
258 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 and then, rising, she crushed me with a look of scorn, 
 and, extending her arm, pointed me the door. That 
 devil of a look, sir, I have not forgotten ; it has long 
 pursued me, and now I often see it in my dreams. 
 
 " Returning home, I tried to kill myself ; but so 
 awkwardly that I failed. There are some things in 
 which we never succeed the first time. I was pre 
 vented from renewing the attempt by the Sequere 
 fatum, which returned to my memory. I said to the 
 floods which beat against my exhausted breast : 
 Carry me where you please, you are my masters, I 
 am your slave. 
 
 " And believe me, sir, this unhappy adventure ben 
 efited me. It led me to salutary reflection. For the 
 first time I ventured to think, I eradicated from my 
 mind every prejudice which remained there, I took 
 leave of all chimeras, I saw life and the world as 
 they are, and decided that heaven is a myth. My 
 manners soon betrayed the effect of the enlightenment 
 of my mind. No more arrogance, no more boast 
 ing. I did not divest myself of pride, but it became 
 more tractable and more convenient; it renounced 
 ostentation and vain display ; the peacock changed 
 into a man of good breeding. This, sir, is what 
 experience has clone for me, assisted by Sequere 
 fatum. It has made me wise, an honest man and 
 an atheist. So I said a little while afterwards to 
 Count Kostia : 
 
 " * Of all the benefits I have received from you, the 
 most precious was that of delivering me from Pau 
 line. That woman would have ruined me. Ah! 
 Count Kostia, how I laugh to myself when I recall 
 the ridiculous litanies with which I once regaled your 
 ears. You knew me well. A passing fancy a fire 
 of straw. Thanks to you, Kostia Petrovitch, my 
 mind has acquired a perspicuity for which I shall be 
 "eternally grateful to you. 
 
 " This declaration touched him ; he loved me the 
 more for it. He has always had a weakness for men 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2$$ 
 
 who listen to reason. Until then, notwithstanding 
 the marks of affection which he lavished upon me, 
 he had always made me feel the distance between us. 
 But from that day I became intimate with him ; I 
 participated in his secrets, and, what cemented our 
 friendship still more, was that one day I had an op 
 portunity of saving his life at the risk of my own." 
 
 "And Pauline?" said the inquisitive and sympa 
 thetic Gilbert. 
 
 " Ah ! Pauline interests you ! Comfort your 
 self. Six months after our rupture she made a rich 
 marriage. She still lives in her little town ; she is 
 happy, and has lost none of her beauty. I meet her 
 sometimes in the street with her husband and chil 
 dren, and I have the pleasure of seeing her turn her 
 head always from me. And I, too, sir, have chil 
 dren ; they are my pupils. They are called in Mos 
 cow the little Vladimirs, and one of them will become 
 some of these days a great Vladimir. I have revealed 
 all my secrets to him, for I do not want them to die 
 with me, and my end may be near. I have yet an 
 important work to accomplish ; and when my task is 
 finished, let death take me. The life of the little 
 shepherd of Ukraine has been too exciting to last 
 long. Short and sweet, is my motto." 
 
 And at these words, leaning suddenly towards 
 Gilbert, and looking him in the eye : 
 
 "Apropos," said he, "were you really thinking of 
 Constantine, the emperor, when you exclaimed : 
 * Oh, fortune ! what strange tricks you play ? 
 
 Gilbert was nearly disconcerted by this sudden 
 attack, but promptly recovered himself. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! " thought he, " it was not for nothing, 
 then, that you told me your history ; you had a pur 
 pose ! Who knows but that Count Leminof has sent 
 you to get my confidence ? " 
 
 Vladimir employed all the skill he possessed to 
 make Gilbert speak ; his insidious questions were 
 inexhaustible : Gilbert was impenetrable. From 
 
260 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 time to time they looked steadily at each other, each 
 seeking to embarrass his adversary, and to surprise 
 his secret, but in vain ; they fenced with glances, but 
 they were both so sure in the parries, that not a 
 thrust succeeded. At last Vladimir lost patience. 
 
 " My dear sir," exclaimed he, " I have the weak 
 ness to put faith in dreams, and I had one the other 
 night which troubled me very much. I dreamed that 
 Count Kostia had a daughter, and that he made her 
 very unhappy, because she had the twofold misfor 
 tune of not being his daughter and of resembling in 
 a striking manner a woman whose remembrance he 
 did not cherish. You see that dreams are as singu 
 lar as the tricks of fortune. But the most serious 
 matter was, that the un happiness and beauty of this 
 child had strongly touched your heart and that you 
 had conceived an ardent passion for her. 
 
 " What must I do," you said to me one day. 
 
 " Then I related my story to you, and said : You 
 know the character of Kostia Petrovitch. Do not 
 hope to move him, it would be an amusement for 
 him to break your heart. If I had been as much in 
 love as you are, I should have carried off Pauline 
 and fled with her to the ends of the world. An 
 elopement! that is your only resource. And mark 
 (it was in my dream that I spoke thus), and mark if 
 you perform this bold stroke successfully, the count, 
 at first furious to see his victim escape him, will at 
 last be reconciled to it. The sight of this child is a 
 horror to him ; even the tyranny which he exercises 
 over her, excites him and disorders his nerves. After 
 she has left him, he will breathe more freely, will en 
 joy better health, and will pardon the ravisher, who 
 will have relieved his life of the ferment of hatred 
 which torments him. Then you can treat with him, 
 and I shall be much mistaken if it is long before your 
 dear mistress becomes your wife. It was thus I re 
 peat, that 1 spoke to you in my dream, and I added : 
 Do not lose an instant ; there is danger in remain- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 26 1 
 
 ing here. Kostia Petrovitch has suspicions ; to 
 morrow perhaps it will be too late ! 
 
 " And then you awoke," interrupted Gilbert 
 laughing. 
 
 Then rising he continued : 
 
 " Your dreams have no common sense, my dear 
 doctor ; for without taking into consideration that 
 M. Leminof has no daughter, the faculty of loving has 
 been denied to me by nature, and the only abduction 
 of which I am capable is that of ink spots from a 
 folio. With a little chlorine you see " 
 
 He took a few steps to pick up the little flower 
 which he had thrown away, and continued as he re 
 traced with Vladimir the path which led to the castle. 
 " Let us speak of more serious things. Do you 
 know the family of this pretty flower ? " 
 
 Thus walking on they conversed exclusively upon 
 botany, and having arrived at the terrace, separated 
 amicably. Vladimir saw Gilbert move away, and 
 then muttered between his teeth : 
 
 " Ha ! you won t speak, you refuse me your con 
 fidence, and you only take off spots of ink ! Then 
 let your fate work itself out ! " 
 
 "Shall I describe the feelings which agitated Gil 
 bert s heart ? They will readily be divined. In ad 
 dition to the anxiety which preyed upon him, a 
 further and greater source of uneasiness was the 
 fear that all had been discovered. " In spite of my 
 precautions," thought he, " some spy stationed by 
 the Count may have seen me running over the 
 roof, but it is very improbable." 
 
 "I am inclined to believe rather, that the lynx eyes 
 of Vladimir Paulitch have read Stephane s face. At 
 the table he has watched her narrowly. Perhaps, 
 too, my glances have betrayed me. This mind, 
 coarse in its subtilty, has taken for a common love, 
 the tender and generous pity with which a great mis 
 fortune has inspired me. Doubtless he has informed 
 the Count, and it was by his order that he attempted 
 
262 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 to force my confidence, and to draw out my inten 
 tions. Stephane, Stephane, all my efforts then will 
 have but resulted in heaping upon your head new 
 misfortunes ! " He was calmed a little, however, by 
 the reflection that she had authorized him of her own 
 accord to remain away from her for at least two 
 weeks. " Before that time expires, thought he, " I 
 shall have devised some expedient. It is, first of all, 
 important to throw this terrier, who is upon our track, 
 off the scent. Fortunately he will not be here long. 
 His departure will be a great relief to me, for he 
 is a dangerous person. If only Stephane will be 
 prudent ! " 
 
 Dinner passed off well ! Vladimir did not make 
 his appearance. The Count was amiable and gay. 
 Stephane. although very pale, was as calm as on the 
 preceding days, and his eyes did not try to meet those 
 of Gilbert, who felt his alarm subsiding ; but when 
 they had risen from the table, Kostia Petrovitch hav 
 ing left the room first, his daughter had time, before 
 following him, to turn quickly, draw from her sleeve 
 a little roll of paper, and throw it at Gilbert s feet; he 
 picked it up, and what was his chagrin when, after 
 having locked himself in his room, he read the fol 
 lowing lines : " The spirit of darkness has returned 
 to me ! I could not close my eyes last night. My 
 head is on fire. I fear, I doubt, I despair. My Gil 
 bert, I must, at any cost, see you this evening, for I 
 feel myself capable of anything. Oh ! my friend, 
 come at least to console me come and take from my 
 sight the knife which remains open on my table." 
 
 Gilbert passed two hours in indescribable anguish. 
 Whilst day lasted, he stood leaning upon his window 
 sill, hoping all the time that Stephane would appear 
 at hers, and that he could communicate to her by 
 signs ; but he waited in vain, and already night be 
 gan to fall. He deliberated, wavered, hesitated. At 
 last, in this internal struggle, one thought prevailed 
 over all others. He imagined he could see Stephane, 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 263 
 
 pale, dishevelled, despair in her eyes ; he thought he 
 could also see a knife in her hands, the slender blade 
 flashing in the darkness of the night. Terrified by 
 these horrible fancies, he turned a deaf ear to pru 
 dential counsels, suspended his ladder, descended, 
 crossed the roofs, clambered up the window and 
 sprang into the room. Stephane awaited him, crouch 
 ing at the feet of the saints. She rose, bounded for 
 ward and seized the knife laying upon the table with 
 a convulsive motion, turned the point towards her 
 heart, and cried in a vibrating voice : 
 
 " Gilbert, for the first and the last time, do you 
 love me ? " 
 
 Terrified, trembling, beside himself, Gilbert opened 
 his arms to her. She threw the poniard away, ut 
 tered a cry of joy, of delirium, leaped with a bound 
 to her friend, threw her arms about him, and hanging 
 upon his lips she cried : 
 
 " He loves me ! he loves ! I am saved." 
 
 Gilbert, while returning her caresses, sought to 
 calm her excitement ; but all at once he turned pale. 
 From the neighboring alcove came a sigh like that he 
 had heard in one of the corridors of the castle. 
 
 " We are lost ! " gasped he in a stifled voice. 
 " They have surprised us." 
 
 But she, clinging to him, her face illuminated by 
 delirious joy, answered: 
 
 " You love me ! I am happy. What matters the 
 rest ? " 
 
 At this moment the door of the alcove opened 
 and Count Kostia appeared upon the threshold, ter 
 rible, threatening, his lips curling with a sinister smile. 
 At this sight his daughter slowly raised her head, 
 then took a few steps towards him, and for the first 
 time dared to look that father in the face who for so 
 many years had held her bowed and shuddering un 
 der his iron hand. Then like a young lion with 
 bristling mane, her hair floating in disorder upon 
 her shoulders, her body quivering, her brows con- 
 
264 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 tracted, with flashing eyes and in a- thrilling voice, she 
 cried : 
 
 " Ah ! it really is you then, sir ! " 
 
 " You are welcome. You here, great God ! Truly 
 these walls ought to be surprised to see you. Yes, 
 hear me, deaf old walls, the man you see there upon 
 the threshold is my father ! Ah, tell me, would you 
 not have divined it by the tenderness in his face, by 
 that smile full of goodness playing about his lips ? " 
 And then she added : " Unnatural father, do you re 
 member yet that you once had a daughter ? Search 
 well, you will find her, perhaps, at the bottom of your 
 memory. Very well ! this daughter whom you killed, 
 has just left her coffin, and he who resuscitated her is 
 the man before you." Then, more excitedly still : " Oh, 
 how I love him, this divine man ! and in loving him, 
 obedient daughter that I am, what have I done but 
 execute your will ? for was it not you yourself who one 
 day threw me at his feet ? I have remained there." 
 
 At these words, exhausted by the excess of her 
 emotion, her strength deserted her. She uttered a 
 cry, closed her eyes, and sank down. Gilbert, how 
 ever, had already sprang towards her; he raised her 
 in his arms and laid her inanimate form in an arm 
 chair ; then placing himself before her, made a ram 
 part of his body. When he turned his eyes upon the 
 Count again, he could not repress a shudder, for he 
 fancied he saw the somnambulist. The features of 
 Kostia Petrovitch were distorted, his eyes bloodshot, 
 and his fixed and burning pupils seemed almost 
 starting from their sockets. He bent clown slowly 
 and picked up the knife, after which he remained 
 some time motionless without giving any signs of life 
 except by passing his tongue several times over his 
 lips as if to assuage the thirst for blood which con 
 sumed him. At last he advanced, his head erect, his 
 arm holding the knife suspended in the air ready to 
 strike. As he drew near, Gilbert recovered all his 
 composure, and in a clear, strong voice, cried out : 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 26$ 
 
 " Count Leminof, control yourself, or you will lose 
 your reason." 
 
 And as the frightful phantom still advanced, he 
 quickly uncovered his breast, and exclaimed in a 
 still louder voice : 
 
 " Count Kostia, strike, here is my heart, but your 
 blows will not reach me, the spectre of Morlof is 
 between us." 
 
 At these words the Count uttered a cry like a fal 
 low deer, followed by a long and plaintive sigh. A 
 terrible internal struggle followed ; his brow con 
 tracted ; the convulsive movements which agitated 
 his body, and the flakes of foam which stood upon 
 his lips, testified to the violence of the effort he was 
 making. Reason at length returned ; his arms fell 
 and the knife dropped, the muscles of his face relax 
 ed and his features by degrees resumed their natural 
 expression. Then turning in the direction of the al 
 cove, he called out : 
 
 " Ivan, come and take care of your young mis 
 tress, she has fainted." 
 
 Ivan appeared. Who could describe the look 
 which he threw upon Gilbert ? Meanwhile the 
 Count had reentered the alcove ; but returned imme 
 diately with a candle, which he lighted quietly, and 
 then with an easy gesture, said to Gilbert : 
 
 " My dear sir, it seems to me we are in the way 
 here. Be good enough to leave with me by the 
 staircase ; for please God, you do not return by the 
 roof. If an accident should happen to you, the By 
 zantines and I would be inconsolable ! " 
 
 Gilbert was so constituted, that at this moment 
 M. Leminof inspired him more with pity than anger. 
 He obeyed, and preceding him a few steps, crossed 
 the alcove and the vestibule and descended the 
 stairs. When at the entrance of the corridor, he 
 turned, and placing his back against the wall, said 
 sadly : 
 
 " I have a few words to say to you ! " 
 
266 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 The Count stopping upon the last step, leaned 
 nonchalantly over the balustrade and answered smil 
 ing: 
 
 " Speak, I am ready to hear you ; you know it 
 always gives me pleasure to talk with you." 
 
 " I beg you, sir," said Gilbert, "to pardon your 
 daughter the bitterness of her language. She spoke 
 in delirium. I swear to you that at the bottom of 
 her heart, she respects you, and that you have only 
 to wish it to have her love you as a father." 
 
 M. Leminof answered only by a shrug of the 
 shoulders, which signified "What matters it to me ?" 
 
 " I am bound to say further," resumed Gilbert, 
 "that your anger ought to fall upon me alone. It 
 was I who sought this child, who hated me ; and I 
 constrained her to receive me. I pressed my atten 
 tions upon her and had no peace or rest until I had 
 gained her affection." 
 
 The count shrugged his shoulders again, as much 
 as to say : " I believe you, but how does that change 
 the situation ? " 
 
 " As for me," continued Gilbert, " I assure you 
 upon my honor, that it was only yesterday I drew 
 from your daughter her secret." 
 
 The Count answered : 
 
 " I believe you readily ; but tell me, if you please, 
 is it true that you now love this little girl as she loves 
 you ? " 
 
 Gilbert reflected a moment ; then considering 
 only the dignity and interests of Stephane, he replied : 
 
 " Yes, I love her with a pure, deep love." 
 
 A sarcastic joy appeared upon the Count s face. 
 
 " Admirable ! " said he ; " that is all I wish to 
 know. We have nothing more to say." 
 
 Gilbert raised his head : " One word more, sir ! " 
 he exclaimed. " I do not leave you until you have 
 sworn to me that you will not touch a hair of your 
 daughter s head, and that you will not revenge your 
 self upon her for my well-meant imprudence." 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 26? 
 
 "Peste!" said the Count laughing, "you are 
 taking great airs ; but I owe you some gratitude, 
 inasmuch as your coolness has saved me from com 
 mitting a crime which would have been a great folly, 
 for only fools avenge themselves with the knife. So 
 I shall grant you even more than you ask. Hereaf 
 ter, my daughter shall have no cause to complain of 
 me, and I will interest myself paternally in her hap 
 piness. It displeases her to be under Ivan s charge ; 
 he shall be only her humble servant. I intend that 
 she shall be as free as air, and all of her caprices 
 will be sacred to me. I will begin by restoring her 
 horse, if he is not already sold. I will do more : I 
 will permit her to resume the garments of her sex. 
 But for these favors I exact two conditions : first, that 
 you shall remain here at least six months; second, 
 that you will try neither to see, speak, nor write to my 
 doll, without my consent." 
 
 Gilbert breathed a deep sigh. 
 
 " I swear it, on my honor ! " replied he. 
 
 " Enough ! enough ! " resumed M. Leminof, " I 
 have your promise, and I believe in it as I do in the 
 gospels." 
 
 When the Count reentered his study, Doctor 
 Vladimir, who was impatiently awaiting him, examined 
 him from head to foot, as if seeking to discover upon 
 his garments or his hands some stain of blood, then 
 controlling his emotion : 
 
 " Well," said he coolly, " how did the affair ter 
 minate ? " 
 
 " Very well," said the Count, throwing himself in 
 a chair. " I have not killed any one. This young 
 man s reason restored mine." 
 
 Vladimir Paulitch turned pale. 
 
 " So," said he with a forced smile, " this auda 
 cious seducer gets off with a rating." 
 
 " You haven t common sense, Vladimir Paulitch ! 
 What are you saying about seduction ? The Gilberts 
 are an enigma to you. They are not born under the 
 
268 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 same planets as the Doctors Vladimir and the Counts 
 Leminof. There is a mixture in them of the human 
 itarian, the knight-errant, the gray sister and the St. 
 Vincent de Paul, added to all which, our philanthro 
 pist has a passion for puppets, and from the time of 
 his arrival he has forewarned me that he intended to 
 make them play. He must have wanted, I think, to 
 give himself a representation of some sacramental act, 
 of some mystery play of the middle ages. The 
 piece began well. The principal personages were 
 faith, hope and charity. Unfortunately, love got into 
 the party, and the mystery was transformed into a 
 drama of cloak and sword. I am sorry for him ; 
 these things always end badly." 
 
 " You are mistaken, Count Kostia ! " replied 
 Vladimir ironically ; " they often end with a wed 
 ding." 
 
 "Vladimir Paulitch ! " exclaimed the Count, 
 stamping his foot, " you have the faculty of exasper 
 ating me. To-day you spent an hour in kindling the 
 fire of vengeance in my soul. You hate this young 
 man. I believe, on my honor, that you are jealous 
 of him. You are afraid, perhaps, that I may put 
 him in my will in place of the little . shepherd of the 
 Ukraine ? Think of it as you please, my dear doc 
 tor ; it is certain that if I had had the awkward 
 ness to kill this admirable companion of my studies, 
 I should lament him now in tears of blood, for I 
 know not why, but he is dear to me in spite of all. 
 But who loves well, chastises well, and I cannot help 
 pitying him in thinking of all the sufferings which I 
 shall make him undergo. Now go to bed, doctor. 
 To-morrow morning you will go on your nimble feet, 
 three leagues from here, on the other side of the 
 mountain, to a little inn, which I will direct you 
 how to find. I will follow on horseback. I need 
 exercise and diversion. We will meet there and dine 
 together. At dessert we will talk physiology, and 
 you will exert yourself to entertain me," 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 269 
 
 " But what are you thinking of? " exclaimed Vlad 
 imir surprised to the last degree. " Will you permit 
 these two lovers " 
 
 Oh ! you have but a dull mind, in spite of your 
 wisdom," interrupted the Count. "In matters of 
 vengeance, you only know the calicoes and cottons. 
 Mine I prefer to weave of silk and threads of gold." 
 
 On returning to his room, Vladimir Paulitch said 
 to himself: 
 
 " These two men are too rational. The piece 
 moves too slowly. I must hasten the denouement." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 EARLY in the morning Ivan entered Gilbert s 
 room. The face of the poor serf was distressing to 
 see. His eyes were red and swollen, and his fea 
 tures bloated. The bloody marks of his nails were 
 visible on his face ; forehead and cheeks were 
 furrowed with them. He informed Gilbert that to 
 wards noon Count Kostia would go out with Vladi 
 mir Paulitch and would be absent the rest of the 
 day. 
 
 " He left me here to watch you and to render an 
 account to him upon his return of all I should see 
 and hear. I am not ugly ; but after what has pass 
 ed, you would be foolish to expect the least favor 
 from me. My eyes, ears and tongue will do their 
 duty. You must know, too, that the barine is in a 
 very gloomy mood to-day. His lips are white, and 
 he frequently passes his left hand over his forehead, 
 a sure sign that a storm is raging within." 
 
 " My dear Ivan," answered Gilbert, " I also shall 
 be absent all day ; so you see your task of watching 
 will be easy." 
 
2/0 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Ivan breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed as if a 
 mountain had been taken from his breast. 
 
 " I see with pleasure," said he, " that you repent 
 of your sin, and that you promise to be wiser in the 
 future ; ah ! if my young master would listen to rea 
 son, like you." 
 
 " Your young master, as you call him, will be as ra 
 tional as mysel But do me the favor to tell me " 
 
 " Oh ! don t be alarmed ; his fainting fit was not 
 long. I had hardly got to him, when he opened his 
 eyes and asked me if you were still alive. On hear 
 ing my answer he exclaimed : Ah ! my God ! how 
 happy I am ! He lives and loves me ! Then he 
 tried to rise, but was so weak that he fell back. I 
 carried him to his bed and he said to me : Ivan, for 
 four nights I have not closed my eyes, and at these 
 words he smiled and fell asleep smiling, and he is 
 asleep yet." 
 
 " In order to be wise, Stephane must be occupied. 
 She must work with her mind and her hands. Here, 
 take this little -white flower," added he, handing him 
 the one he had plucked the day before ; "ask her, for 
 me, to paint it in her herbarium to-day. 
 
 And as Ivan examined the plant with an air of 
 distrust, he added : 
 
 " Go, and fear nothing. I ve not hidden a note in 
 it. I am a man of honor, my dear Ivan, and never 
 break my word." 
 
 Ivan hid the flower in one of his sleeves and went 
 out muttering to himself: 
 
 " How is all this going to end ? Ah ! may the 
 Holy Trinity look down in pity upon this house. We 
 are all lost ! " 
 
 Gilbert went out. Leaving upon his right the 
 plateau and its close thickets, he gained the main 
 road and followed the bank of the Rhine for a long 
 distance. A thousand thoughts crowded in confusion 
 through his mind ; but he always came to the same 
 conclusion : 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2/1 
 
 " I will save this child, or lose my life in the at 
 tempt." 
 
 As the sun began to sink towards the horizon, he 
 returned to the castle. He went in search of father 
 Alexis and found him in the chapel. The good 
 father had learned from Ivan what had happened 
 the night before. He reproached Gilbert severely, 
 but nevertheless, after hearing his explanations, 
 softened considerably, and in a tone of grumbling 
 indulgence, repeated the old proverb, " every one 
 to his trade." " Oxen," added he, " are born to 
 draw the plough, birds to fly, bees to make honey, 
 Gilberts to read and make great books, and father 
 Alexis to edify and console his fellow-creatures. You 
 have encroached upon my prerogatives. You wanted 
 to walk in my shoes. And what has been the result 
 of your efforts ? The spoiling of my task ! Have you 
 not observed how much better this child has been for 
 the last two months, how much more tranquil, gentle 
 and resigned ? I had preached so well to her, that 
 she at last listened to reason. And you must come 
 to put in her head a silly love which will cost both of 
 you many tears." 
 
 Upon which, seizing him rudely by the arm, he 
 continued : 
 
 " And what need had we of your assistance, the 
 good God and I ? Have you forgotten ? Open your 
 eyes and look ! To-day, my child, even to-day I have 
 put the finishing touch to my great work." 
 
 Then he pointed his finger to two long rows of 
 sallow faces, surmounted by golden halos, which two 
 lamps suspended from the ceiling illuminated with a 
 mysterious light. Like a general enumerating his 
 troops, he said : 
 
 " Look at these three graybeards. That is Isaac, 
 this Jeremiah, and this Ezekiel. On the other side are 
 the holy warrior martyrs. Then St. Procopius, there 
 St. Theodore, who burnt the temple of Cybele. His 
 torch may yet be relighted. And these archangels, 
 
2/2 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 do you think their arms will be forever nerveless and 
 their swords always asleep in their scabbards ? " 
 
 Then falling upon his knees he prayed aloud : 
 
 " And thou, holy mother of God, suffer thy un 
 worthy servant to summon thee to keep thy promise. 
 Let thy august power at last be made manifest. At 
 the sight of thy frowning brows let there be accom 
 plished a mystery of terror and tears in hardened 
 hearts. Let the neck of the proud be broken, and let 
 his haughty head, bent down by the breath of thy 
 lips, as by the wind of a tempest, bow to the very 
 earth and its hair sweep the dust of this pavement." 
 
 Just then they heard a voice calling : 
 
 " Father Alexis, father Alexis, where are you ? " 
 
 The priest turned pale and trembled. He tried 
 in vain to rise, his knees seemed nailed to the 
 ground. 
 
 " Ah ! my child, did you not hear a divine voice 
 answer me ? " 
 
 But helping him to his feet, Gilbert said with a sad 
 smile : 
 
 " There is nothing divine in that voice. It has a 
 strongly marked Provencal accent, and if I am not 
 mistaken, it belongs to Jasmin the cook, who is there 
 in the court with a lantern in his hand, and is calling 
 you." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," answered the good 
 father, shaking his head and passing his hand over 
 his forehead, which was bathed in perspiration. " Let 
 us see what this good Jasmin wants. Perhaps he 
 brings my dinner. I had notified him, however, that 
 1 proposed to fast to-day." 
 
 Jasmin no sooner saw them come out of the 
 chapel than he ran towards them and said to the 
 priest : 
 
 " I don t know, father, what has happened to 
 Ivan, but when I went into his room to carry him his 
 dinner, I found him stretched on his bed. I called 
 him and shook him, but couldn t wake him up." 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 273 
 
 A shudder ran through Gilbert s whole body. 
 Seizing the lantern from Jasmin he darted off on a 
 run ; in two seconds he was with Ivan. Jasmin had 
 told the truth ; the serf slept heavily and profoundly. 
 By dint of pulling him by the arm, Gilbert succeeded 
 in making him open his eyes ; but he soon closed 
 them again, turned towards the wall and slept on. 
 
 " Some one must have given him a narcotic," said 
 Gilbert, whispering to father Alexis who had just 
 joined him. 
 
 And addressing Jasmin, who had followed the 
 priest, 
 
 " Has any one been here this afternoon ? " 
 
 " I ask your pardon," said the cook. " Doctor 
 Vladimir returned from his walk at about five o clock. 
 This surprised me very much, as Count Kostia told 
 me before he left, that M. Stephane would dine here 
 alone to-day." 
 
 " The Doctor is at the table then, now." 
 
 " Pardon, pardon ! He didn t wish any dinner. He 
 told me in a joking way, that he would shortly go to 
 a grand dinner in the other world." 
 
 " But where is he then ? In his study ? " 
 
 " Two hours afterwards, he went out with M. Ste 
 phane." 
 
 " Which way did they go ? " cried Gilbert, shaking 
 him violently by the arm. 
 
 " Ah ! pardon, sir, take care, you ll put my arm 
 out of joint," answered the huge Provencal. 
 
 "Jasmin, my good Jasmin, answer me: which 
 way did they go ? " 
 
 " Ah ! I remember now, they took the road to the 
 woods. 1 
 
 Gilbert darted off instantly. Father Alexis cried 
 after him in vain : 
 
 "Wait for me, my child, I will accompany you. I 
 
 am a man of good judgment." As if carried by the 
 
 wind, Gilbert was already in the woods. His head 
 
 bare, pale, out of breath, he ran at the top of his 
 
 18 
 
2/4 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 speed. Night had come, and the moon began to sil 
 ver over the foliage which quivered at every breath 
 of wind. Gilbert was blind to the moon s brightness, 
 deaf to the sighing of the wind. He heard nothing 
 but the diminishing sound of steps in the distance, 
 he saw nothing but a cloud of blood which floated 
 before his eyes and indicated the path ; the sole 
 thought which shed any light upon his mind, filled 
 with gloomiest apprehensions, was this : 
 
 " I did not understand this man ! It was an offen 
 sive alliance which he proposed to me yesterday. I 
 refused to avenge him : he is going to revenge him 
 self, and a Russian serf seeking vengeance is capa 
 ble of anything." 
 
 On he ran with unabated speed, and would have 
 run to the end of the world if, in an elbow of the road, 
 some steps before him, he had not suddenly per 
 ceived Stephane. Standing in the moonlight erect 
 and motionless, Gilbert stopped, held out his arms, 
 and uttered a cry. She trembled, turned, and run 
 ning to him, cried : 
 
 " Gilbert, do you love me ? " 
 
 He answered only by pressing her to his heart ; 
 and then perceiving Doctor Vladimir, who was sitting 
 on the edge of a ditch, his head in his hands, he 
 stammered : 
 
 " This man here with you ! " 
 
 " I do not know," said she in a trembling voice, 
 " whether he is a madman or a villain ; but it is cer 
 tain that he is going to die, for he has poisoned him 
 self." 
 
 " What have you to say ? " said Gilbert, looking 
 wildly at the dejected face of the doctor, upon which 
 the moon was shining full. " Explain, I beg of you." 
 
 " What do I know ? " said she ; " I think I have 
 been dreaming since yesterday evening. It seems to 
 me, however, that this man came to my room for me. 
 He had taken the precaution to drug Ivan. I was 
 dying with melancholy. He persuaded me that you, 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2/5 
 
 my Gilbert, were waiting for me in one of the paths of 
 this forest, to fly with me to a distant country. 
 f Let us go, let us go, I cried ; but on the way I 
 began to think, I grew suspicious, and at this turning 
 of the road I said to my gloomy companion : * Bring 
 my Gilbert to me here ; I will go no further. 
 Then he looked at me with frightful eyes, and I be- 
 ieve said to me : What is your Gilbert to me ? 
 Follow me or you die ; and then he fumbled in his 
 bosom as if to find a concealed weapon ; but if I am 
 not mistaken, I looked at him steadily, and crossing 
 my arms, said to him : Kill me, but you shall not 
 make me take another step. " 
 
 Vladimir raised his head. 
 
 " How deceptive resemblances are," said he in a 
 hollow voice. " I once knew a woman who had the 
 same contour of face, and one evening, by the sole 
 power of my eye, I compelled her to fall at my feet, 
 crying : Vladimir Paulitch, do with me what you 
 will. But your young friend has a soul made of dif 
 ferent stuff. You can believe me if you wish, sir; 
 but the fact is that her charming face suddenly struck 
 me with an involuntary respect. It seemed to me 
 that her head was adorned with a royal diadem. Her 
 eyes glowed with a noble pride ; anger dilated her 
 nostrils, and while a scornful smile flitted over her 
 lips, her whole face expressed the innocence of a 
 soul as pure as the rays of the moon shining upon us. 
 At this sight I thought of the woman of whom I spoke 
 to you yesterday, and I felt a sensation of horror at 
 the crime I had premeditated, and I, Doctor Vladi 
 mir, I prostrated myself at the feet of this child, say 
 ing to her : Forgive me, I am a wretch ; after 
 which I swallowed a strong dose of a poison of my 
 own composition, whose antidote I do not know, and 
 in two hours I shall be no more." 
 
 Gilbert looked steadily at him. 
 
 "Ah! great God," thought lie, "it was not the 
 life but the honor of Stephane which was in danger ! 
 
276 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 But the promised miracle has been wrought, only 
 this is not the one which father Alexis expected, 
 since it has been the work of the God of nature." 
 
 Stephane approached him, and taking his hands 
 murmured : 
 
 " Gilbert, Gilbert, let us fly let us fly together \ 
 There is yet time ! " 
 
 But he only muttered : 
 
 " I see through it all !" Then turning to Vladimir 
 he said in a tone of authority, " Follow me, sir ! It is 
 right that Count Kostia should receive your last 
 breath." 
 
 " Vladimir reflected for a moment, then rising, 
 said : 
 
 " You are right. I must see him again before I 
 die ; but give me your arm, for the poison begins to 
 work and my legs are very weak." 
 
 They began to walk, Stephane preceding them a 
 few steps. At intervals, Vladimir would exclaim : 
 
 " To die to breathe no more no more to see the 
 sun no more to remember to forget all ! " And then 
 he added, " One thing disturbs my happiness. I am 
 not sufficiently revenged ! " 
 
 At last his voice died upon his lips and his legs 
 failed him. Gilbert was obliged to carry him on his 
 shoulders, and was nearly giving out under the bur 
 den when he saw father Alexis coming towards them 
 breathless. He gave him no time to recover breath, 
 but cried : 
 
 " Take this man by the feet I will support his 
 shoulders. Forward ! my good father, forward ! We 
 have no time to lose." 
 
 Father Alexis hastened to comply with Gilbert s re 
 quest, and they continued on their way with bowed 
 heads and in gloomy silence, Stephane alone, with her 
 cap drawn over her eyes occasionally uttered discon 
 nected words and alternately cast a furtive glance at 
 Gilbert, or gazed sadly at the moon. Arriving at 
 the castle, they crossed the court and ascended the 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 277 
 
 stairs without meeting any one ; but entering the ves 
 tibule of the first story, in which all the lamps were 
 lighted, they heard a noise of steps in the corridor 
 which led to the square tower. 
 
 " M. Leminof has returned," said Gilbert tremb 
 ling. " Father Alexis, carry this man to his room. I 
 will go and speak to the Count, and will bring him to 
 you in a moment." 
 
 Then taking Stephane by the arm, he whispered 
 to her : 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, keep out of the way. 
 Go down on the terrace and conceal yourself. Your 
 father must not see you until he has heard me." 
 
 " Do you think I am afraid, then ? " she replied, 
 and escaping from him, darted off in the direction of 
 the corridor. 
 
 Meanwhile father Alexis had entered the room 
 of Vladimir Paulitch, whom he sustained with diffi 
 culty in his trembling arms. At the moment he laid 
 him upon his bed, a voice which reached even to 
 them, uttered these terrible words : 
 
 "Ah! this is braving me too much! Let her 
 die ! " Then a sharp cry pierced the air, followed by 
 the dull noise of a body falling heavily upon the 
 floor. 
 
 Father Alexis looked at Vladimir with horror. 
 " The mother was not enough," cried he, " thou hast 
 just killed the .daughter ! " 
 
 And he sprang out of the room distracted. 
 
 Vladimir sat up. An atrocious joy gleamed in 
 his face ; and recovering the use of his speech : he 
 murmured, " my vengeance is complete ! " 
 
 But at these words a groan escaped him the 
 poison began to burn his vitals. Nevertheless he 
 forgot his sufferings when he saw the Count appear, 
 followed by the priest, and holding in his hand a 
 sword, which he threw in the corner. 
 
 "Count Kostia," cried the dying man, "what 
 have you done with your daughter ? " 
 
2/8 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " I have killed her," answered he sternly, ques 
 tioning him with his eyes. 
 
 Vladimir remained silent a moment. 
 
 " My good master," resumed he, " do you remem 
 ber that Pauline whom I loved ? do you also remem 
 ber having seen me crouched at your feet crying, 
 Mercy ! Mercy ! for her and for me ? My good 
 master, have you forgotten that corner of the street 
 where you said to me one day : * This woman is 
 charming ; but if your marriage is not broken off be 
 fore this evening, to-morrow she will learn from me 
 who you are ? That day, Count Kostia Petrovitch, 
 you had a happy and smiling air. .Say, Kostia Petro 
 vitch, do you recollect it ? " 
 
 The Count answered only by a disdainful smile. 
 
 " Oh ! most simple and most credulous of men, 
 continued Vladimir, how could you think that I 
 would empty the cup of sorrow and of shame to the 
 very dregs, and not revenge myself upon him who 
 smiled as he made me drink it ? " 
 
 " Six months later, you saved my life," said the 
 Count, slightly shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 " Because your days were dear to me. You do 
 not know then the tenderness of hatred ! I wished 
 you to live, and that your life should be a hell." 
 
 And then he added, panting: 
 
 " The lover of the Countess Olga, . . . was I." 
 
 The Count staggered as if struck by lightning. 
 He supported himself by the back of a chair, to 
 avoid falling ; then springing to the table he seized a 
 carafe full of water and emptied it in a single draught. 
 Then in a convulsed voice, he exclaimed : 
 
 " You lie ! The Countess Olga could never have 
 given herself to a serf! " 
 
 u Refer to your memory once more, Kostia Petro 
 vitch. You forget that in her eyes, I was not a serf, 
 but an illustrious physician, a sort of great man. 
 However, I will console you. The Countess Olga 
 loved me no more than 1 loved her. My magnetic 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 2/9 
 
 eyes, my threats had, as it were, bewitched her poor 
 head ; in my arms she was dying with fear, and when 
 .at the end of one of these sweet interviews, she heard 
 me cry out, Olga Vassilievna, your lover is a serf, 
 she nearly perished of shame and horror." 
 
 The Count cast upon his serf a look of indescrib 
 able disgust, and, making a superhuman effort to 
 speak, once more exclaimed : " Impossible ! That 
 letter which you addressed to me at Paris " 
 
 " I feared that your dishonor might be concealed 
 from you, and what would life have been to me then ?" 
 
 M. Leminof turned to the priest, who remained 
 standing at the other end of the room. " Father 
 Alexis, is what this man says true ? " 
 
 The priest silently bowed. 
 
 " And was it for this, foolish priest, that you have 
 endured death and martyrdom to prolong the days 
 of a worm of the earth ? " 
 
 " I cared little for his life," answered the priest, 
 with dignity, " but much for my conscience, and for 
 the inviolable secrecy of the confessional." 
 
 " And for two years in succession you have suffer 
 ed my mortal enemy to lodge under my roof without 
 warning me ? " 
 
 " I was ignorant of his history and of the fact that 
 he had reasons for hating you. I fancied that a mad 
 passion had made him a traitor to friendship, and 
 that in repentance he sought to expiate his fault, by 
 the assiduous attentions which he lavished upon you." 
 
 " Poor fellow !" said the Count, crushing him with 
 a look of pity. 
 
 Then Vladimir resumed in a voice growing more 
 and more feeble : 
 
 " Since that cursed hour, when I crawled at your 
 feet, without being able to soften your stony heart 
 with my tears, I became disgusted with life. To feel 
 that I belonged to you was every instant a torment. 
 But if you ask me why I have deferred my death so 
 long, I answer that while you had a daughter living 
 
28O COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 my vengeance was not complete. I let this child 
 grow up ; but when the clock of fate struck the hour 
 I waited for, courage suddenly failed me, and I was 
 seized with scruples, which still astonish me. But 
 what am I saying ? I bless my weakness, since I 
 brought home a victim pure and without stain, and 
 since her virginal innocence adds to the horror of 
 your crime. Ah ! tell me, was the steel which 
 pierced her heart the same that silenced Morlof s ? 
 Oh, sword, thou art predestinated ! " 
 
 Count Kostia s eyes brightened. He had some 
 thing like a presentiment that he was about to be de 
 livered from that fatal doubt which for so many years 
 had poisoned his life, and he fixed his vulture-like 
 eyes upon Vladimir. 
 
 " That child," said he, " was not my daughter." 
 
 Vladimir opened his vest, tore the lining with his 
 nails and drew out a folded paper, which he threw at 
 the Count s feet : 
 
 " Pick up that letter ! " cried he, " the writing is 
 known to you. I meant to have sent it to you by 
 your dishonored daughter. Go and read it near your 
 dead child." 
 
 M. Leminof picked up the letter, unfolded it, and 
 read it to the end with bearing calm and firm. The 
 first lines ran thus : " Vile Moitjik. Thou hast made 
 me a mother. Be happy and proud. Thou hast re 
 vealed to me that maternity can be a torture. In my 
 ignorant simplicity, I did not know until now it could 
 be aught else than an intoxication, a pride, a virtue, 
 which God and the church regard with favor, and the 
 angels shelter with their white wings. When for the 
 first time I felt my Stephan and my Stephane stir 
 within me, my heart leaped for joy, and I could not 
 find words enough to bless Heaven which at last re 
 warded six years of expectation ; but now it is not a 
 child I carry in my bosom, it is a crime. . . ." 
 
 This letter of four pages shed light, and carried 
 conviction into the mind of Count Kostia. 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 28 1 
 
 " She was really my daughter," said he, coolly. . . 
 " Fortunately I have not killed her." 
 
 He left the room, and an instant after, re-ap 
 peared, accompanied by Gilbert, and carrying in his 
 arms his daughter, pale and dishevelled, but living. 
 He advanced into the middle of the room. There, as 
 if speaking to himself, he said : 
 
 " This young man is my good genius. He tore 
 my sword from me. God be praised ! he has saved 
 her and me. This dear child was frightened, she 
 fell, but she is unhurt. You see her, she is alive, 
 her eyes are open, she hears, she breathes. To 
 morrow she shall smile, to-morrow we shall all be 
 happy." 
 
 Then drawing her to the head of the bed and call 
 ing Gilbert to him, he placed their hands together, 
 and standing behind them, embracing their shoulders 
 in his powerful arms, and thrusting his head between 
 theirs, he forced them, in spite of themselves, to bend 
 with him over the dying man. 
 
 Gilbert and Stephane closed their eyes. 
 
 The Count s and Vladimir s were wide open de 
 vouring each other. The master s flamed like torches ; 
 the serfs were sunken, glassy, and filled with the fear 
 and horror of death. He seemed almost petrified, 
 and murmured in a failing voice : 
 
 " I am lost. I have undone my own work. To 
 morrow, to-morrow, they will be happy." 
 
 One last look, full of hatred, flashed from his eyes, 
 over which the eternal shadow was creeping, his fea 
 tures contracted, his mouth became distorted, and, ut 
 tering a frightful cry, he rendered up his soul. 
 
 Then the Count slowly raised himself. His arms 
 in which he held the two young people as in a living 
 vice, relaxed, and Stephane fell upon Gilbert s breast. 
 Confused, colorless, wild-eyed, intoxicated with joy 
 and terror at the same time, clinging to her friend as 
 the sailor to his plank of safety, she said in an indis 
 tinct voice : 
 
282 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " In the life to which you condemn me, my father, 
 the joys areas terrible as the sorrows." 
 
 The Count said to Gilbert : 
 
 " Console her, calm her emotion. She is yours. I 
 have given her to you. Do not fear that I shall take 
 her back again." Then turning again to the bed 
 he exclaimed : " What a terrible thorn death has just 
 drawn from my heart ! " 
 
 In the midst of so many tragic sensations, who 
 was happy ? Father Alexis was, and he had no de 
 sire to hide it. He went and came, moved the furni 
 ture, passed his hand over his beard, struck his chest 
 with all his might, and presently in his excess of joy 
 threw himself upon Stephane and then upon Gilbert, 
 caressing and embracing them. At last, kneeling 
 down by the bed of death, under the eyes of the 
 Count, he took the head of the dead man between 
 his hands and kissed him upon the mouth and 
 cheeks, saying : 
 
 " My poor brother, thou hast perhaps been more 
 unfortunate than guilty. May God, in the unfathom 
 able mystery of his infinite mercy, give thee one 
 day, as I have, the kiss of peace ! Then raising his 
 clasped hands, he said : " Holy mother of God : 
 blessed be thy name. Thou hast done more than I 
 dared to ask." 
 
 At that moment Ivan, roused at last from his long 
 lethargy, appeared at the threshold of the door. For 
 some minutes he remained paralyzed by astonish 
 ment, and looked around distractedly ; then, throw 
 ing himself at his master s feet and tearing his hair, 
 he cried : 
 
 " Seigneur Pere, I am not a traitor ! That man 
 mixed some drug in my tea which put me to sleep. 
 Seigneur Perc, kill me, but do not say that I am a 
 traitor." 
 
 " Rise," returned the Count gayly, " rise, I say. I 
 shall not kill thee. I am not going to kill anybody. 
 My son, thou rt a rusty old tool. Dost know what I 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 283 
 
 shall do with thee ? I shall slip thee in among the 
 wedding presents of Madame Gilbert Saville." 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 STEPHANE passed the following day shut up in her 
 tower. An hour before dinner M. Leminof paid her 
 a visit. When he entered she was busy painting. She 
 rose and went to meet him. The Count took her 
 hand, pressed it gallantly to his lips, and offering his 
 arm, led her to the sofa, where he seated himself be 
 side her. For a few moments she looked at him in 
 silence ; then suddenly began to tremble. 
 
 " The man who is seated there is my father, 
 thought she, and, but for Gilbert, would have been my 
 assassin." 
 
 The Count frowned slightly. He anticipated a 
 scene of tears, stormy explanations, sentimental effu 
 sions, and he held tears, explanations and sentiment 
 in horror. 
 
 " My dear child," he said in an off-hand manner ; 
 " for six years past you have had but little cause to 
 praise my affection ; but what would it avail if we 
 talked about it until to-morrow ? Let it suffice you 
 to know that, deceived by false evidences, I did not 
 consider you my daughter. Yesterday evening a 
 happy accident revealed to me my dreadful error, 
 and there is no fear of my ever falling into it again. 
 Let us forget the past, then, and occupy ourselves 
 entirely with the future." 
 
 Stephane quickly recovered from her agitation, 
 and replied to her father in a playful tone : 
 
 "Please believe that I am the greatest forgetter in 
 the world if I only have a little aid." 
 
 M. Leminof was so charmed with her answer and 
 
288 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 her sportiveness that he gave her three friendly little 
 taps upon the right cheek. 
 
 " Besides," continued she, " you have surprised 
 me in a moment of very good humor. I made a dis 
 covery to-day which delighted me. I am convinced 
 that I have a strong mind, and to save words, a great 
 character." 
 
 " Did you doubt it ?" asked the Count smiling. 
 
 " I knew that I was violent, very violent ; but 
 that s not the same thing. A few weeks since, per 
 mit me to omit the precise date, I lived in such a 
 whirlwind of excitement, that I had no time to study 
 myself; my heart beat too fast, I was in a fe 
 ver. Yesterday evening, in settling my fate, you re 
 stored tranquillity to my soul, and that night no more 
 spectres came to sit at the head of my bed, but a 
 grave and quiet personage whose face was entirely 
 new to me, and who, to my question as to her name, 
 answered : I am your Reason. Upon which we 
 embraced, and quickly became very good friends." 
 
 "You are charming, my dear," said the Count. 
 " Report to me faithfully, I beg of you, what your 
 Reason said to you." 
 
 " Where did you come from ? I asked her first." 
 
 " From a corner of this room, " she replied. 
 
 " How did you enter ? " 
 
 " By the window in the footsteps of your great 
 friend. I must tell you sir " 
 
 " Call me father." 
 
 "I must tell you, father, that when my great friend 
 came for the first time to visit Stephane, he was es 
 corted by a troop of celestial spirits, of whom one 
 was called Hope, another Health, another Joy . . . . " 
 
 " Another Love," interrupted the Count. 
 
 " Thank you for naming him for me. Reason 
 formed the rear guard, and at first, as she told me, 
 she was so frightened by the noise which Love made, 
 and the imperious airs which he put on, that she ran 
 and hid herself in a little corner, to bide her time." 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 289 
 
 " She is patient, because she is eternal," said M. 
 Leminof. "But tell me, to reinstate herself she cer 
 tainly made you a long and rather severe speech ? " 
 
 " Short, but good. She represented to me, that 
 in violation of my dignity and intelligence, I had not 
 feared to say to my great friend, If you do not love 
 me, I shall kill myself, and that in answering I love 
 you, he had treated me as a furious lunatic, whose 
 caprices must be humored to calm him. In short, 
 she spoke so well, and what she said accorded so ad 
 mirably with her whole person, with her manner, her 
 compassionate looks, her tender melancholy, that I 
 became convinced, and I passed judgment upon my 
 self. I slept badly, and was sad when I awoke ; but 
 my reason gave me strength to avail myself of the 
 admirable remedy which my great friend has often 
 recommended to me. I gave occupation to my mind, 
 I set about painting, so earnestly that, touched by 
 my docility, this good personage wished to keep me 
 company, and she came and installed herself at the 
 bottom of the pretty white corolla, whose shape and 
 tint my brush is trying to imitate. She is crouching 
 there with her legs crossed under her, and her hands 
 clasped behind her head, as the little Russian girls sit 
 when they are thinking those at least whom I have 
 the opportunity of knowing. It is certain that in this 
 posture I thought I saw her, and I said to her, Well, 
 speak to me. But she had discoursed so much dur 
 ing the night, that she gave speech to the little swamp 
 flower, who related to me her story at length. I have 
 gained my suit, said she, for 1 have blossomed, as 
 you see ; but nevertheless, like all plaintiffs, what 
 weary waiting have I not endured ! " 
 
 " She showed me also that these great and rapid 
 acquisitions of happiness which sometimes dazzle 
 men and little Russian girls, are deceptive ; that chi 
 v a piano va sano, and that durable happiness grows 
 little by little, and day by day, as the plants of the 
 woods and the suns themselves. When she had said 
 
290 
 
 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 all this, another voice came from the bottom of the 
 corolla and murmured : * Gilbert does not love thee 
 yet, but I swear to thee that one day he will love 
 thee. " 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Reason, I cried, l I take you at 
 your word. 1J 
 
 " And at this moment I felt so tranquil that I was 
 seized with a delightful fit of enthusiasm for your 
 daughter." 
 
 " * You have a strong mind, said I to myself. 
 1 You have a great character ! And I ran to embrace 
 myself in my mirror." 
 
 M. Leminof was charmed, transported, astound 
 ed. " I, who had so much dreaded this interview," 
 thought he. " I expected tears, fainting fits, with 
 scratches by way of interlude. She is certainly 
 charming, and Gilbert is a sorcerer." 
 
 " You do well to trust in your reason," said he. 
 " Your great friend is a great original ; I believe, 
 however, that he is not blind ; and you are beautiful, 
 my dear child. To tell the truth, your eyes perhaps 
 are a little heavy, and your cheeks a little thin and 
 pale. Be patient; happiness . . ." 
 
 "It is a kind of pallor which does not wear off," 
 interrupted she. " My heart will forget all, but I 
 fear that my face will always remember. After all, 
 what matters it ? " added she gayly ; " if he finds me 
 too pale, I will put on a little rouge." 
 
 "I forbid you," exclaimed the Count, resuming 
 his despotic tone. " Your mother had an insupport 
 able mania for daubing. No rouge pots in my 
 house ! for if I must tell you all, my dear, what I 
 like best in you is that very pallor. It will be your 
 stamp ; I am not sorry that you have one. . . ." 
 
 Stephane made no answer, but rising and clap 
 ping her hands, exclaimed : 
 
 " Well, then, send me right off to a boarding- 
 school, where I can finish my education. I will learn 
 to walk, to sit, to dress my hair, to move my hea4 
 
EPILOGUE. 2QJ 
 
 gracefully, to handle a fan without breaking it ... At 
 first I shall appear like a boy in disguise ; but I shall 
 soon change, and in a year I shall no longer be the 
 little man in the black tunic, and he will love me." . . . 
 
 " Although in the way of grace you have nothing 
 to learn," replied her father, who had become a mod 
 el of paternal gallantry, " I will do everything to 
 please you. Then, too, you are very young ; you are 
 but seventeen. That is not winter nor its ice. Be 
 sides, you need a change of air, and to put some dis 
 tance between yourself and this dungeon, these cor 
 ridors, and the gloomy face of your father." 
 
 " I am no longer afraid of you, 1 answered she ; 
 " still I think with you that it will be well for us to re 
 main some time without seeing each other. . . ." 
 
 " I am delighted that we agree," said he. " I have 
 always thought that in life, as in writing, it is import 
 ant to arrange the transitions well." 
 
 He rose in his turn, and approached the table 
 upon which the herbarium lay open. He was en 
 chanted to find his daughter so rational, for he appre 
 ciated reason in others ; but the good will which he 
 felt that he bore her already, became mingled with 
 respect and admiration when he had cast his eyes 
 over the herbarium. He knew how to appreciate and 
 enjoy talent of all kinds. 
 
 " What a discovery I have just made ! " exclaimed 
 he. " What ! my dear child, did you paint these 
 charming pictures ? What delicate tracery, what 
 truthful coloring ! You have the eye and the 
 hand of an artist. Where did you get your talent ? 
 Your mother, whose face yours so strongly resem 
 bles, had not a shadow of it. I am much mis 
 taken if she ever painted anything but her face. 
 There is a ranunculus which is a masterpiece. It is 
 nature itself." 
 
 He looked at his daughter with almost affection 
 ate eyes. I say almost, for the story which I am 
 relating does not belong to the go lden legends; 
 
2 Q 2 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 then covering the name of the plant at the bottom of 
 the page with his hand, he asked : 
 
 " What do you call this brownish flower ? " 
 
 Stephane laughed. 
 
 " My dear sir," said she, " that is the guaphalium 
 sylvaticum. That word is derived from the Greek ; 
 guapto (I card), guapheus (carder), guaphalon (floss 
 and down). The products of the guaphals are cot 
 tony. And now would you like to know the family 
 name, its history? You have but to speak. lam 
 ready to satisfy you." 
 
 " You carry me from surprise to surprise. Just 
 fancy, I thought you incapable of connecting two 
 ideas ! What a monstrous injustice I did you ! Ah, 
 then, tell me, was botany one of the celestial spirits 
 that your great friend " 
 
 " It was the first which Gilbert presented to me. 
 I received him at first badly enough ; but little by 
 little I discovered that he was delightful society. Gil 
 bert s idea was, that to become well, Stephane should 
 occupy himself with something besides Stephane, and 
 singularly enough, Stephane decided to believe in it." 
 
 " He was entirely right. It is a very stupid per 
 son who is willing to pass his time in angling in the 
 shallow waters of his own being, and I admire you 
 both infinitely ; him for inculcating such wise princi 
 ples, and you for suffering him to teach them. And 
 God knows how many books he has made you read." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed she, " let him ask my life, I 
 will give it to him ; but to make me read anything but 
 his scrawls. I defy him." 
 
 " How is that ? " said the Count, astonished. " It 
 seems to me that in your childhood you were a great 
 reader ? " 
 
 "Learn, then, that for nearly three years I have 
 had an aversion to everything printed." 
 
 " And why so ? " 
 
 " I will tell you frankly ; because you liked it too 
 much." 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 293 
 
 " What ingratitude ! " said he. " Just reflect. If I 
 had not adored books, your great friend would have 
 remained in his great Paris, and you, my dear " 
 
 " And I should not be in this world ! " interrupted 
 she with a bitter smile. 
 
 Then recovering her gayety immediately, she con 
 tinued : " Yes, that s true, and I m much obliged to 
 the folios. So the better to testify my respectful 
 gratitude, I will take care not to touch them for fear 
 of wearing them out, and I will extend my tender soli 
 citude to twelvemo s and even down to the thirty-two s. 
 
 "I know very well," said the Count, " who has 
 disgusted you with reading ; it is father Alexis. That 
 poor father " 
 
 But she interrupted him, exclaiming, as she drew 
 herself up, " say nothing more against the good fa 
 ther. He did a grand thing last evening. He kissed 
 before your eyes the corpse of your enemy, which 
 you were guilty of insulting." 
 
 The Count bit the end of his mustache; but in 
 the humor in which she had put him, he could not be 
 offended with the freedom of her language. 
 
 " With your queenly attitudes," said he to himself, 
 " with your grand airs, your grand manners, your grand 
 gestures and your home thrusts, you are my own 
 blood my soul recognizes you." 
 
 " Let us go to dinner," said he, offering his arm. 
 
 " Will you do me a favor ? " she answered, in a 
 caressing tone. " Send me up the wing of a chicken. 
 I do not wish to see my great friend again, until I 
 take leave of him. You can say that I have a head 
 ache ; but do not speak to him, I beg of you, of my 
 reflections, nor of my projects ! I am curious to see 
 what he will say. And besides, if, possibly, he should 
 suddenly begin to love me " 
 
 " I saw him this morning, and I ought not to con 
 ceal from you the fact, that he was as calm as a 
 statue." 
 
 Stephane breathed a sigh. 
 19 
 
2 g>4 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Reason," said she, " come to my 
 aid ! " 
 
 " Adieu, my dear child," said her father. " Upon 
 my honor, there is a little Russian girl whose pas 
 sionate admirer I have become within a quarter of an 
 hour." 
 
 " A little affection would suit me better," replied 
 she. 
 
 And as he bowed to kiss her hand, she antici 
 pated him, and threw herself in his arms. Luckily 
 her head was bent, and she did not see the air of hes 
 itation, anguish and ferocious repugnance, which sud 
 denly distorted the Count s face. He covered it has 
 tily with his hands, and, seeing nothing but the top of 
 her head and her hair, he murmured : 
 
 " It is of a darker shade," and twice touched it 
 with his lips. 
 
 As he descended the staircase, he said to himself : 
 " My daughter is very remarkable. Yesterday she 
 made the wretch who threatened her honor cower in 
 the dust by a single glance ; to-day she is calm and 
 sensible ; does not whine and makes no scenes ; she 
 jests, converses rationally and paints. And what a 
 delicate and firm stroke ! She has wit, courage, 
 flashing eyes. How we must distrust appearances ! 
 That poor Olga had neither talent, good sense, nor 
 character. She was a pretty paroquet, who passed 
 her clays in brightening her plumage. And then the 
 hair of the other is decidedly darker." 
 
 The next day in the forenoon, Vladimir Paulitch 
 was buried. The Count and Gilbert accompanied 
 the body to its last resting place. When the first 
 shoveful of earth fell upon the coffin, with that dull 
 and hollow sound, which is like the cry of eternity 
 swallowing its prey, the eyes of Count Kostia lighted 
 up and flashed ; but he hastily dropped his eyelids 
 over the burning balls, and under an air of gravity 
 and meditation concealed the delirious excitement 
 which throbbed in his breast. The ceremony ended, 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 and having reached the last houses of the village, he 
 begged Gilbert to wait for him and retraced his steps 
 to the cemetery, which the grave diggers were just 
 quitting, and standing motionless on the mound un 
 der which Vladimir slept, he remained several mo 
 ments in contemplation, with crossed arms and a 
 smile on his lips ; then he spat upon the earth, and 
 cried in the terrible language of Job : 
 
 " The sepulchre is thy house. Make thy bed in 
 darkness. Murderer of Morlof, cry to the grave : 
 Thou art my father ! cry to the worms: ye are 
 my mother and my sisters ! : Thy hopes have de 
 scended with thee into the depths of the tomb, and 
 ye will repose together in the dust." 
 
 Then slowly leaving the cemetery he rejoined Gil 
 bert, and as they mounted the paved road which led to 
 the castle, he said with good-natured brusqueness, 
 " My dear Gilbert, I hope that you have no prejudices, 
 and that you will see no objection in having some day 
 a few thousands of crowns income. Observe that in 
 giving you my daughter, the obligation is all on my 
 side ; I have a very considerable debt to pay her ; 
 you alone can discharge it for me. Besides, I thus 
 secure you for myself too. You will never leave me. 
 We will pass our days reading Greek together. 
 That is the only serious thing in life." 
 
 " Will you be kind enough," replied Gilbert, " to 
 ask your daughter to come to you ? I will answer you 
 in her presence." 
 
 When they had entered the Count s study, and 
 Stephane had joined them, Gilbert resumed : 
 
 " Count Kostia, reciprocal love is the only valid 
 excuse for a disproportionate union. Now, if I am sure 
 that I love your daughter passionately, shall I dare to 
 say in her presence that I am equally certain of her 
 sentiments for me ? Living in solitude and in strict 
 seclusion, she has not chosen me has not preferred 
 me to any one else. A happy fatality, which I shall 
 always bless, whatever the result may be, has made 
 
296 
 
 COUNT KOSTIA, 
 
 me her consoler, and if I may be permitted to say it, 
 the instrument of her salvation. Does she not mis 
 take for love the gratitude which my devotion has in 
 spired in her noble heart ? Is it certain that when 
 she is restored to liberty, she will not run the risk 
 of meeting some object in the world more worthy of 
 her affection ? And ought I not to fear that some day, 
 drawing comparisons terrible for me Ah ! sir, let 
 her consent to make this trial which I dread for my 
 self before plighting her faith to me. Give her op 
 portunities of frequenting and observing society, 
 and let her decide if, among those who will be at 
 tracted by her beauty, there may not be one whom she 
 may prefer to her devoted Gilbert. If in a year I 
 shall have gained my suit, and her heart still belongs to 
 me, I will abandon myself without any scruples to the 
 love which I have vowed to her, and my proud hap 
 piness will only be equalled by my gratitude." 
 
 While Gilbert was speaking, Stephane had ex 
 changed more than one glance with her father. 
 
 " Have I not read him well ? " said she, rising. 
 " He does not yet love me. I am still to him the little 
 man in the velvet tunic." 
 
 Then, as Gilbert attempted to disclaim it : 
 
 " Oh, do not be afraid that I shall kill myself," 
 said she ; " the time of poisoning and daggers has 
 passed. You man of little faith, who fear to walk 
 upon the waters, I will cure you of your incredulity ; 
 but if the physician makes you suffer, blame no one 
 but yourself. You have been rash. You have just 
 offered me a superfluous affront. If, as propriety de 
 mands, you had permitted me to speak first, you 
 would have heard me myself ask my father for the 
 postponement of my happiness. I have reflected a 
 great deal within the last twenty-four hours, and I 
 have concluded that before marrying, a girl who re 
 spects herself should learn to dance and to courtesy. 
 Gilbert, Gilbert ! your precipitation might have been 
 fatal to you. Think of it, you have just offended me, 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 297 
 
 and think, too, that some day you will love me. That 
 is written on high. What would you think if within 
 that time I should write in my turn : I am not sure 
 of his affection, let us put it to the proof. Gil 
 bert, women are vindictive, and you cannot doubt, I 
 think, that the daughter of my father knows what ven 
 geance is. But you need not fear ; I am generous. 
 Wait for the next i/j.th of September in confidence ; 
 that day I swear to you there will be celebrated in 
 two hearts a fete of which even the angels will be 
 jealous." 
 
 At these words she extended her hand to him ; 
 but as he attempted to carry it to his lips, she with 
 drew it quickly, and raising her head proudly, said : 
 
 " Don t be in such haste. The day will come, 
 believe me, when you shall kiss it upon your knees 
 and in tears." 
 
 Then smiling him an adieu, she darted from the 
 room. 
 
 The Count pressed Gilbert s hand. 
 
 " You are the most gallant man in the world," 
 said he ; "but women are women. You are playing 
 a hazardous game, I forewarn you. Be it at your own 
 risk and peril ! " 
 
 EPILOGUE, CHAPTER II. 
 
 i 
 Fragments from Gilbert s Journal. 
 
 
 
 Paris, September 2oth. 
 
 Little fountain, little fountain, it was at the en 
 trance of your rustic grotto, it was by the sound of 
 your foaming waters, that destiny traced the first lines 
 of the most remarkable chapter of my life. What do 
 I say ? A chapter ? Is it not rather a question of an 
 entire life ? 
 
298 
 
 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 September 27. 
 
 On arriving in hell, Ulysses sacrificed some sheep 
 and a black ram, and having dug a ditch with his 
 sword, filled it with the flowing blood of his victims. 
 Then from the depths of Erebus, the pale swarm of 
 empty shades gathered and surrounded the hero, 
 vague and floating like dreams, without voice, color, 
 face, memory, as if dispossessed of themselves and 
 deprived of their souls ; but when Ulysses had per 
 mitted them to lean over the ditch and drink there 
 from, life returned to them and words of truth came 
 from their lips. 
 
 God has with his own hands placed in the breasts 
 of great men a bloody chalice, and like a good shep 
 herd tending his flocks, he leads the long train of heav 
 en s daughters, ideas invisible, impalpable and immor 
 tal, to this divine watering-place. As soon as these 
 phantoms have drunk a few drops of this miraculous 
 blood, they take face and fprm, and men see with 
 astonishment radiant forms passing among them, who, 
 with fingers pointing to heaven, tell them the secrets 
 of the future. 
 
 But if to accomplish such prodigies the heart of 
 a great man is necessary, a virtue less powerful, but 
 similar, is inherent in all noble and sincere hearts. 
 Do we not feel, we, the little ones of this world, at 
 certain times, sighing shades flitting mysteriously 
 about us, demanding to live ? Let us hold to their 
 lips this enchanted cup, which we carry in our bosoms ; 
 for though but a vase of clay, it is not the less the 
 work of the Supreme artist. After having quenched 
 their thirst, these august mendicants which Heaven 
 sends us will not dazzle the world with their glory, 
 but they will reveal it to the soul of him who has 
 ministered to their wants. . . . 
 
 Daughters of heaven, Oh my adored phantoms, 
 you whom once I called by a familiar name which I 
 shall give you no more, one day, pure doves, one day 
 you came flocking around the still full cup of my 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 heart, and drank long draughts of life. And now when 
 I am alone, and talking to myself, there are voices 
 which answer me. . . . 
 
 October ist. 
 
 Upon leaving father Alexis, I said to him : 
 " Father, to my knowledge you have worked two 
 miracles which I admire infinitely. Once they 
 put you to the torture to make you speak, but 
 you did not speak. At another time, under the 
 eyes of a man whose anger you had reason to fear, 
 you embraced his most bitter enemy, who had just 
 expired in convulsions. At that moment the unhap 
 py man had still a breath of life ; he felt your lips 
 press his, and a mysterious serenity suddenly spread 
 itself over his face. My father, these are two well 
 authenticated miracles. As to the others . . ." 
 
 October 3Oth. 
 
 She is -at Munich, not in a boarding-school, but 
 with a friend of her father s, the Baroness de N - . 
 She is living, she says, in a whirlwind to which she 
 finds it difficult to become accustomed. 
 
 November 3d. 
 
 I work a great deal, but am not without diver 
 sion. Oh ! how often it happens that I forget Byzan 
 tium, my scribblings and my ink ! The vision al 
 ways before me, is an old castle built upon a rock, 
 great sombre woods, a precipice, a little fountain, 
 steep roofs, gables, chimneys, weather-cocks, and a 
 flood of silvery waves sparkling in the light of the 
 stars. And in the midst of all this, there passes and 
 repasses before me a little black tunic which plays 
 various parts in my dreams. Sometimes it is a little 
 boy in a wild wood, with a cold and haughty eye, gal 
 loping upon a chestnut horse, and cutting the air with 
 his whip ; then all at once I see a poor child, pale 
 with grief, who sits at my feet and rests his head 
 upon my knees. Presently the child, raising himself, 
 
^OO COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 \j 
 
 changes into an impetuous young girl, with flaming 
 eyes, flashing a knife in the air. And finally I see 
 her, as she appeared to me a few moments before my 
 departure. " Ah, you see ! " she said to her father, 
 " he does not love me yet." No, it was no longer //<?, 
 it was a woman who spoke. 
 
 January 3d. 
 
 In her last letter, she informed me that she had 
 already broken three fans. The other day she had 
 an attack of ill humor. " Ah ! if I had had that switch 
 which you are acquainted with in my hand." 
 
 January 15. 
 
 She has attended a Court ball, and was much 
 amused. " I felt that I was pretty, and compliments 
 were not lacking." Gilbert, to-day you know what 
 jealousy is. 
 
 April 1 6th. 
 
 Love ! love ! I have never known it until this 
 morning! At eleven o clock a package was brought 
 to me. My hands trembled in opening it. The pack 
 age enclosed a medallion, the medallion enclosed a 
 portrait. At the bottom of the portrait were written 
 these words : " New episode in the metamorphosis of a 
 lily" What a sudden emotion shook my heart ! 
 Yes, it is she, it is really she ! her hair, her eyes, her 
 mouth, I recognize everything but the white satin 
 dress. But I should never have imagined her so 
 beautiful ! Happiness has put the last touch to her 
 charms, and the veil which shadowed her face has 
 fallen forever. Thou art mine, thou belongestto me, 
 thou art my property, ihou art my jewel, my crown ! 
 And it is right, for thou art my work, my creation. 
 It was I who breathed into thy heart the fire of life ; 
 it was I who resuscitated the dead smile ; it was I who 
 opened thine eyes to see heaven ; but in spite of my 
 rights, am I worthy to possess thee ? I passed three 
 hours wandering in the least frequented paths of the 
 woods. Nearly overcome with my happiness, I stum- 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 3 OI 
 
 bled along with a tottering step, as one sick with joy ; 
 a golden mist floated before my eyes, and my 
 thoughts lost themselves in the vague kingdom of 
 folly. 
 
 July 30. 
 
 It is nearly a month since she has written to me. 
 My God ! what has happened ? 
 
 August 9. 
 
 I have just received this note : " Gilbert, swear 
 to me, whatever may happen, that I can rely upon 
 your friendship. If you do not assure me of this, I 
 shall be the most unhappy of women." I answered, 
 " Yes, I swear it to you in tears." 
 
 August 17. 
 
 Here is her answer : " I thank you for your prom 
 ise ; I thank you also for your tears ; but time will dry 
 them. Wait a few days and you shall know all." 
 
 August 21. 
 
 Of what can I accuse her ? Did I not myself 
 release her from the pledge she had given me ? Was 
 I playing a comedy ? Alas ! I foresaw what has hap 
 pened, and it was for that I insisted on proving her 
 heart. The result condemns our love ; but where is 
 her crime, her perfidy ? 
 
 September 10. 
 
 I am a prey to weakness, to dejection so pro 
 found, that it seems as though life were leaving me. 
 
 September 13. 
 
 Yesterday I found among the rubbish a plant 
 of the deadly nightshade. It is my turn, thought I, 
 to regard this sad flower with complacency, and to 
 wish that its poison were distilled into my blood. 
 But no, I shall live, I shall bear my sorrow with forti 
 tude ; I will preserve my dignity and consummate 
 the work of my devotion. When I see her again, I 
 will cover my face so carefully with the mask of 
 friendship, that it will be impossible for her to pene- 
 
302 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 trate it. I will hide my tears, and see her happiness 
 with a smile upon my lips ; not a complaint, not a 
 murmur, not a sigh shall escape from my breast to 
 trouble the serenity of my conscience. 
 
 September 14 Morning. 
 
 I fear that I shall not have the strength to live. 
 Gilbert, recall thy reason which is deserting thee. 
 
 Same day Midnight. 
 
 Oh ! cruel one ! it was a trial then, a vengeance ! 
 When the door opened and I saw her, I fell upon my 
 knees. She approached me slowly. " I swore to 
 make you a little crazy ; and still advancing, she ex 
 tended a little white hand, which I moistened with 
 my tears. " Upon your knees and weeping," said 
 she, in a low voice, adding in a still lower tone : " I 
 upon my knees, you standing, then the world was up 
 side down ; that had to be changed." And I felt her 
 lips press my forehead. At this moment, the Count 
 entered. " My dear Gilbert, said he, I congratulate 
 you : upon my word you re a lucky fellow ! " 
 
 EPILOGUE, CHAPTER III. 
 
 After spending a winter at Geierfels, they all left 
 for Constantinople. The history of the Byzantine 
 Empire should be written on the spot. This year 
 they passed the fine season at Menemen, upon the 
 borders of the Hermus, a few leagues from Smyina, 
 at a charming house which a Greek banker of their 
 acquaintance had put at their disposal. At the time 
 I write, they had just returned from Pera ; next year 
 they intend to visit Persia. Stephane is of the opin 
 ion that they will move on even to Cabul. Why not 
 to Thibet ? We shall see if we live ! 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 Ivan has been emancipated, and he has taken 
 what God has sent him ; but he has firmly decided 
 to end his days with his former barine. Father Alexis 
 still preserves all of his teeth and makes good use of 
 them. Is it necessary to add that he still paints with 
 all his might ? Lately he decorated the modest Greek 
 church of Menemen with apocalyptic figures. His 
 happiness is not unclouded however; he fears that 
 the immortal frescoes at Geierfels will be injured by 
 the dampness and frost ; so he proposes to go there 
 and .restore them, before long. Count Kostia is bet 
 ter, but is obliged to keep himself constantly occupied. 
 In his mania for work he sometimes wearies his son- 
 in-law. The history of the Byzantine Empire is well 
 under way ; the first volume is in press ; a hint to the 
 critics ! Kostia Petrovitch also takes a great deal of 
 bodily exercise. As soon as he feels his dark moods 
 approaching, he averts them by excessive fatigue. 
 He invariably treats his daughter with irreproach 
 able courtesy ; but all his affection is bestowed upon 
 the little Kostia who made his entrance into the world 
 about ten months since, and whose Mentor he flat 
 ters himself he shall some day be. Meanwhile he 
 fondles and coddles him, and spoils him with indul 
 gence. By a freak of nature the child is the image 
 of his grandfather. He was born with prominent 
 cheek bones, and a heavy pair of eyebrows, which 
 grow thicker day by day. This is a certificate of great 
 value to him. 
 
 Stephane still holds printed matter in holy horror ; 
 it is a malady of which she will not be cured. In 
 recompense, she tenderly loves her beautiful herba 
 rium which wins the admiration of connoisseurs, and 
 which she proposes to enrich with all the plants of 
 Cabul. Gilbert often makes his puppets play before 
 his wife. One evening when this exhibition had fill 
 ed her with delight, she repeated to him with fervor, 
 the last verse of the poem of the Metamorphosis : 
 " Let this day be dear to us ! To the flower sue- 
 
COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 ceeds the fruit : Sacred love begets in us such unity 
 of sentiments and thoughts, that blended in harmo 
 nious contemplation, our two souls together discover 
 the celestial country !" 
 
 However plants blossom and fructify in vain, they 
 do not renounce their leaves and their roots. Last 
 spring, Count Kostia and his son-in-law made an ex 
 cursion to Pergamos, and on leaving promised to re 
 turn to Menemen the fourth day, during the fore 
 noon ; but in a country where there are no roads, it 
 is difficult to be prompt in keeping engagements and 
 the travellers were delayed. Stephane became anx 
 ious, tormented herself, dreamed of brigands and 
 precipices ? she spoke harshly to father Alexis who 
 tried to console her, and threatened to box poor 
 Ivan for repeating a Russian proverb on patience. 
 Finally, beside herself, she ordered her horse, and 
 when Gilbert arrived towards noon, he found that she 
 had left upon a full gallop to seek him, and that she 
 had gone into lonely and suspected regions, with no 
 protector save an ugly pocket pistol. He scolded 
 her for her folly, as was natural. She became angry, 
 went off in a transport of rage, stamped her foot and 
 ran away to her room where she locked herself in ; 
 but after twenty minutes she came out again with a 
 serene face, and it was all over. 
 
 Some hours later, a little before sunset, she might 
 have been seen sitting on the veranda which ex 
 tended across the front of the house. She wore a flow 
 ing oriental dress, of a pistachio color, ornamented 
 with gold embroidery and laces. Her waist, slender 
 and supple as a reed, was girdled by a scarf of ama 
 ranth crape, with floating ends and long fringe. Her 
 delicate feet were encased in Turkish slippers. A 
 necklace of pearls encircled her snow white throat. 
 She changed the arrangement of her hair every day. 
 This evening it was raised like a crown above the 
 forehead. In one hand she held a fan, in the other a 
 switch. In this world one cannot take too many pre- 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 305 
 
 cautions. Thus see her reclining in the corner of a 
 sofa with the fantastic grace of a pretty Angora cat. 
 At her feet, two little goats were lying, one of a red 
 dish brown color, and the other silver grey ; goats 
 such as are seen only in sunny climes. At the right a 
 cradle and a sleeping infant. Before her eyes a 
 beautiful flower garden. Beyond the garden a Turk 
 ish cemetery planted with cypress and cedars, from 
 which came the soft cooing of turtle doves. The sky 
 was bright blue in the zenith, and nearly green at the 
 horizon. 
 
 Stephane called Ivan, who was raking a path. 
 
 " Give him a glass of rakie to console him ! Fill 
 it to the brim ! " said she to father Alexis^ I was a 
 little hasty this morning. Alas ! my poor Ivan, per 
 haps not for the last time." 
 
 At this moment perceiving Gilbert : 
 
 " Come here, quick !" cried she to him. " Sit 
 down by me. I have a story to tell you. It will be 
 as new as it is interesting." 
 
 And then, when he seated himself, she continued, 
 fluttering her fan : 
 
 " Imagine, that once upon a time, in one of the 
 turrets of an old castle, there lived a poor child who 
 was persecuted by a barbarous tyrant. He was very 
 sad, so sad that he was in danger of dying or going mad. 
 Luckily an amiable and valiant chevalier arrived at 
 the castle ; one of those polished chevaliers who know 
 botany, Greek, and the language of puppets. This 
 chevalier was compassionate, and took pity on the 
 child. He was brave, and risked his life to penetrate 
 into the dungeon where the little captive languished. 
 He was wise, and made him partake of a little of his 
 wisdom. He had coolness and address, and twice 
 saved his life. Thus it came to pass that the poor 
 child did not die, and that I am to-day the happiest 
 woman in the universe. What do you say ? Isn t 
 my story a pretty one ? " 
 
 " Oh, how badly reasoned ! " exclaimed father 
 
306 COUNT KOSTIA. 
 
 Alexis, who sat a few steps off peaceably smoking his 
 narghile and sipping a glass of excellent wine. " You 
 have a superficial mind, my dear daughter, and only 
 discern secondary causes. You should say that in 
 thai castle where this poor child vegetated, there was 
 a / od soul of a priest who knew how to paint ; and 
 \\ o, in this barbarous age, was the only one to repre 
 sent the sound traditions of his great art. And this 
 line old priest made a contract with the mother of 
 God, and when he had painted in fresco the great 
 white walls of a chapel, he took the liberty of saying 
 to her : 
 
 " I have kept my word. Will you not keep 
 yours ? 
 
 And immediately a miracle was wrought, and the 
 chains of the poor child were broken. This was not 
 all : it happened that this child was a young girl, and 
 she was loved by a young man whom she was to 
 marry after a year s separation. The old priest, who 
 had lived long enough to sorely distrust women, took 
 a notion to send our young girl a little picture which 
 he had painted, two hearts pierced by an arrow, and 
 said to her : 
 
 " My daughter, wear this medallion about your 
 neck, look at it every morning and evening. It is 
 an amulet which will keep you faithful to your first 
 love." She took the medallion, and thus it is, that 
 we are to-day the most fortunate mortals on earth ; 
 smoking excellent tobacco, drinking Cyprus wine 
 without cares, without sorrows, and chatting cosily in 
 a pretty garden and under a beautiful sky, which is 
 blue above and green below." 
 
 Meantime Count Kostia made his appearance 
 with a pruning-hook in his hand, and hearing father 
 Alexis peroration : 
 
 "That is very well said, Signer Pangloss," he 
 exclaimed, pulling him by the beard ; " but we must 
 cultivate the garden." 
 
EPILOGUE. 307 
 
 " And painting," replied the good father, without 
 stirring. 
 
 " And our reason," murmured Gilbert, gazing in 
 the eyes of his wife. 
 
 " I agree to it," replied she, " upon one condite.on, 
 " that is, that we shall always believe in the foil- 
 friendship." 
 
 And springing with a bound from the sofa, sl* 
 cried with the tragic air of old times : 
 
 " Oh, my dear folly. I shall kill myself the day I 
 cease to hear your charming bells ! " 
 
 Saying which, she made a little pirouette, poised 
 upon the tip of her right foot. The little startled 
 goats answered her by shaking their little bells, and 
 in the shadow of the cradle two great eyes opened in 
 fright. 
 
 Friendly reader, I have reason to believe that she 
 never killed herself, and I delight in the conviction. 
 I have never relished the proverb which says that 
 " the shortest follies are the best." Some are divine ; 
 the point is to choose. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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