THE 
 
 ROMANCE 
 
 OF A FEW DAYS 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 MANCHU AND MUSCOVITE 
 
 THE TRUCE IN THE EAST AND ITS AFTERMATH 
 
 THE RE-SHAPING OF THE FAR EAST 
 
 THE COMING STRUGGLE IN EASTERN ASIA 
 
 THE CONFLICT OF COLOUR 
 
 INDISCREET LETTERS FROM PEKING 
 
 THE FORBIDDEN BOUNDARY 
 
 THE HUMAN COBWEB 
 
 THE UNKNOWN GOD 
 
 THE REVOLT 
 
THE 
 
 ROMANCE 
 
 OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 PUTNAM WEALE 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 METHUEN & CO. LTD. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 
 LONDON 
 
First Published . . . . A ugitsl 21st /g/j 
 Second Edition .... September igij 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A 
 FEW DAYS 
 
 RICHARD FAULCONBRIDGE rose from his 
 comfortable seat and balanced himself with 
 ^ a half -smile of pleasurable anticipation on his 
 good-natured, boyish face. 
 
 The train, roaring a deep-noted and persistent warn- 
 ing, had swept majestically round a sharp curve on 
 the high embankment, and was now running straight 
 and unflinchingly for the terminus. As he stood there 
 a little irresolutely, he suddenly realized, with that 
 curious mixed feeling of satisfaction and regret which 
 so often comes at a journey's end, that a pleasant ex- 
 perience was fast ending. His eyes dropped mechani- 
 cally to the handsome leather cushions, the luxurious 
 fittings, the carpeted floor. It had been so very com- 
 fortable that it seemed a pity to leave it all. Then, 
 mechanically, he did the things one usually does. He 
 took off his hat and smoothed his reddish hair ; he 
 rolled up a rug ; he fidgeted with a suit-case, only to 
 put it down again. It was a nuisance that he had so 
 soon to make a move. 
 
 But the outer world called to him ; the prospect 
 viewed through the generous coupe window had be- 
 come singularly engaging ; and, suddenly conscious 
 
 495872 
 
2 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 that he was missing something interesting, he settled 
 himself again in his seat. 
 
 The city, indeed, was at last beside him, and in- 
 sistently claimed his attention. The distant and 
 confused vision of gilded domes and cupolas had been 
 replaced by an unending procession of fantastic and 
 unusual pinks and greens and blues which decorated 
 the roofs and railings of the picturesque villas as they 
 do nowhere else in the world. Then came a succession 
 of great broad cobble-stoned streets, lined with armies 
 of tall houses that marched away in serried ranks into 
 the very far distance. These were broken ever and 
 anon by barren, bleak-looking squares, which appeared 
 at unexpected places and seemed always to be capped 
 and crowned by the countless golden domes of the 
 Greek Orthodox Church, whose appearance is at once 
 so Oriental and so medieval. Somehow as the young 
 man sat there drinking in the changing scene it sug- 
 gested to him an immense latent power — a power 
 which it would be wonderful to see asserted. Masked 
 beneath the borrowed Byzantine gaudiness there 
 seemed to lie buried the stern and unalterable resolve 
 of a people whose first ideal had been not a heaven of 
 jewelled and passionless saints, but a Scandinavian 
 Walhalla — that stupendous palace of immortality 
 awaiting the souls of heroes slain in battle. Glisten- 
 ing in the beautiful morning sunlight, full of colour 
 and change, quaint with unexpected contrasts and 
 phantasies, the city suddenly acquired in his eyes all 
 the charm of a romance which is unfolded in a single 
 coup de maitre. Like Napoleon, who a hundred years 
 before had ridden over the crest of that famous 
 eminence, the Mont du Salut, in the van of his death- 
 less army, he, too, had caught his first glimpses in 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 3 
 
 the very far distance ; he, too, had been deeply stirred 
 by the vision of great walled Kremlin and the mighty 
 churches and palaces of the Czars ; he, too, had 
 wondered at the meaning of that message. He must 
 try to pierce below the surface ; find out what he 
 could ; see and perhaps understand. Now he was 
 doubly glad he had come to Moscow — Moscow, the 
 mother of Russia ancient and modern. . . . 
 
 It was becoming alive, too, very much alive. Pour- 
 ing down the still somnolent streets were long files of 
 country carts, their characteristic harnessing enhancing 
 one of the chief glories of the country — the handsome 
 horses. As the speed of the train rapidly diminished, 
 he was able to follow the teams with his eyes and to note 
 many details before they were swept into the distance. 
 The sturdy bearded drivers in their blue blouses and 
 top-boots ; the women seated on top of the loads, 
 their heads enveloped in gay kerchiefs ; the bare- 
 footed boj's, in gay red shirts, crowned with rude 
 shocks of hair as yellow as ripened corn, running along 
 in mock competition with the train — all these things 
 tended to accentuate a subtle and arresting theatrical 
 note which became more and dominant as the atmo- 
 sphere of the place pushed itself under his notice. It 
 was a new world — a picturesque world — a very 
 charming world, viewed, of course, from the big 
 window of a comfortable train. 
 
 He liked to think that beneath this gay exterior 
 a thousand romances lightly slumbered, ready to 
 spring to life at the magician's touch. That would be 
 in keeping with the outer view. Already he had had a 
 taste of the unknown, and in his loneliness he hungered 
 for more. The previous night, when everybody had 
 been asleep, they had stopped for a long spell at a 
 
4 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 great junction full of waiting trains from Southern 
 Russia. Glad of an opportunity to stretch his legs, 
 he had quickly slipped to the ground and commenced 
 walking the platforms. A tall, graceful woman, with 
 a scarf thrown over her head, was leaning out of a 
 window of the next train ; and as he slowly passed 
 and repassed the window he had seen that she was 
 silently observing him. At last she had suddenly 
 leaned towards him with a graceful gesture of the 
 hands and murmured to him — perhaps to come. 
 Always gallant, he had smilingly shaken his head and 
 pointed — with regret — to the carriage which must 
 bear him away in an opposite direction. That vague 
 figure in the night and that soft voice had remained 
 with him all these hours. He was sure that he liked 
 the country — though he had only been in it some 
 twenty hours, that is the time it takes to run from 
 Poland, which is, of course, not Russia at all, but 
 merely Europe. 
 
 Presently, as they slid into the station, a long line 
 of blue-shirted, top-booted porters, who had been 
 paraded in anticipation of their arrival, suddenly 
 broke up their semi-military alignment, and gaily 
 precipitating themselves on to the train, began noisily 
 offering their services to all and sundry. He watched 
 these bearded, cheerful fellows at work with the curious 
 sense of contentment within him growing. The half- 
 smile which was always wandering round his lips and 
 looking out of his eyes seemed more evident than 
 usual just then. Here was a land where it was still 
 possible to live en prince, far from a maddening 
 democracy. 
 
 At the station entrance many uniformed hotel em- 
 ployees stood lined, ready to accommodate him still 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 5 
 
 further. As the travellers streamed out, the men 
 called aloud the names of their establishments in the 
 old-fashioned way which was common in the capitals 
 of Europe in the days of Louis Philippe and even of 
 Louis Napoleon, but which is now only to be heard 
 in rather out-of-the-way spots where people are still 
 lingering in the nineteenth century, and, indeed, look 
 upon the twentieth somewhat askance. 
 
 He listened to the names as if they had been sweet 
 music. Yes — there was an old-world flavour about the 
 names which reminded him of the days of post-chaises 
 and grand tours and those other forgotten elegancies of 
 a forgotten age. It seemed millions of miles removed 
 from that ultra -modernism which has made of a station 
 a place of penance, and reduced the traveller to being 
 a mere waif lost in a wilderness of steel tracks. Yes — 
 he repeated to himself — it was very pleasant. Mos- 
 cow possessed the grand air still — that old-fashioned 
 courtesy which would greet you with the courtly bow 
 of a Spanish grandee, instead of rudely pushing you 
 aside without so much as asking your leave. 
 
 With ever growing satisfaction he watched the 
 animation and listened to the soft language — reluctant 
 to move on. He was trying to define it all to himself 
 more precisely, and he was not entirely succeeding. 
 There was an un-European air which in vain he tried 
 to understand ; something rather rococo and yet 
 something very new ; as if people of the simpler 
 centuries had been resurrected and harnessed to this 
 very modern world not much farther off than the 
 night before. They seemed curiously anxious to 
 please, curiously soft and obliging, great big children 
 rather than great big men, a very novel people, he 
 thought fit to believe. 
 
6 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 Presently he mounted the hotel conveyance, and as 
 they gathered up speed and flew recklessly along he 
 suddenly realized the joys of being in the land of 
 autocracy par excellence — which means a land of 
 go-as-you-please, provided you agree that everything 
 but autocracy is a delusion and a snare. The tall 
 houses and the broad streets gained rather than lost 
 on closer acquaintance ; there was a character about 
 them which stamped them with a strong, virile in- 
 dividuality. The squares — particularly the squares — 
 were delightful to him : they were vast open places 
 where a regiment could manoeuvre at ease and never 
 collide with unnecessary monuments. 
 
 He gazed about him with deepening pleasure. Every- 
 thing was on a grand scale, a very grand scale — the 
 churches, the houses, the public buildings, the people 
 — especially the people, this race with the soul of the 
 fifteenth century plunged into the struggle of the 
 twentieth. What a revelation, indeed, were these 
 strong, healthy-looking men, these robust, deep- 
 bosomed women ! Somehow he felt that he had 
 been deliberately defrauded in the past of the correct 
 view by a conspiracy of misrepresentation. This the 
 land of the knout ; this the land of miserable, down- 
 trodden serfs ; this the land of exiles and despair ? 
 He became increasingly aware that there was not 
 another people in Europe with such a fine physique 
 or such a happy air. 
 
 Presently the driver sounded his horn in a long ripple 
 of musical notes, which went up and down the scale 
 as a singer does who is exercising his voice. They had 
 dashed into an immense square, and the great hotel 
 entrance towards which they were speeding suddenly 
 loomed up big and imposing. As they swept down 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 7 
 
 on it he saw that it was decorated with bowing porters, 
 military-looking chasseurs, and picturesque valets de 
 chambre — a whole host summoned as if to tell the 
 stranger what it once was to be a man of ease. 
 
 There, at the hotel entrance, he stood for a few 
 moments breathing in the fresh morning air with re- 
 newed gusto, whilst they carried in his luggage. He 
 hked this wide, open space — this sense of freedom. In 
 the middle distance an old woman had begun feeding 
 a flock of pigeons which had been introduced in 
 imitation of Venetian St. Mark's. Ever and anon the 
 pigeons rose in long circular flights, and the flutter of 
 their wings made dazzling streaks of colour in the gay 
 sunlight as if a shattered rainbow had fallen lazily to 
 earth. Some passers-by, delighted by this early- 
 morning phantasy, were expending kopecks in pur- 
 chasing handfuls of Indian corn, which they scattered 
 far and wide on the cobblestones, calling the birds to 
 earth. The pigeons and the picturesque old women 
 and the handfuls of Indian corn somehow fitted in 
 with it all — and made the opening day even more 
 peaceful. There was not a single thing with which 
 the most exacting of men could have found fault. 
 
 Richard Faulconbridge heaved a sigh of satisfaction. 
 It had been a charming arrival. It seemed to him more 
 unbelievable than ever that this was the country that 
 was still fighting a great war in a far-away corner of 
 the world, losing men by the ten thousand in grim 
 battles. Of such ugly things there was not a trace, 
 not a sign. To his eyes there was only an air of almost 
 pastoral happiness. 
 
 As he stood there drinking in the scene he little knew 
 that ever since his arrival he had been the object of 
 
8 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 the closest scrutiny on the part of an undersized, 
 ugly man, who was sitting hunched up in a wicker 
 chair, with his hat tilted over his eyes, and a pencil 
 between his lips. The wicker chair was so disposed 
 behind a glass door, that though this person could 
 observe everything, it was much harder to observe him. 
 Dressed in the dress of the bourgeoisie of Europe — that 
 is in a sombre, ill-cut suit, with a tie that did not match 
 — this man never took his eyes off the new arrival — 
 not for one instant. He let them travel slowly up and 
 down the tall form, noting with the greatest care not 
 only each physical characteristic, but each characteris- 
 tic movement as well ; that is trying to grasp not only 
 this stranger's peculiar mannerisms, but to find out 
 exactly what prompted them. In a word he was 
 " memorizing " him — memorizing him in such a 
 way that no matter where or how he met him again he 
 would always know him. He had been doing this 
 with all sorts and conditions of men and women for 
 many years, and his gift had become almost incredible. 
 He had indexed in his mind a myriad of travellers 
 who passed to and fro between the chief cities of 
 Russia and the western frontiers, and he had never 
 forgotten a single face. He was of the foreign section 
 — the section that tries to seize hold of the strange web 
 that stretches from Russia to Zurich, and even as far 
 as Chicago and New York — and which is the cleverest 
 section of all the police. 
 
 This morning the work had been very easy. The 
 only other foreigner to arrive had been a fat, voluble 
 Frenchman, who had passed in through the folding- 
 doors talking loudly all the time — a person it was 
 not even necessary to study. The undersized, ugly 
 man had recognized him at once, and had smiled con- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 9 
 
 temptuously. He was under the care of another 
 department. 
 
 But this tall Englishman, with the pleasant face, 
 so placid, so resolute in his manner — why had he 
 come to Moscow ? Since that peculiar affair of the 
 passports there had been special orders to watch 
 Englishmen, especially those who seemed quite above 
 suspicion. This man had been staying in Warsaw, a 
 disaffected centre ; he had gone to three hotels, so 
 the labels on his luggage had at once disclosed. He 
 had changed hotels twice — why had he done so ? 
 
 The undersized, ugly man could not understand 
 that. His mind, soured with endless suspicions, liked 
 to believe that he, too, deserved attention. Perhaps 
 he was the bearer of some secret intelligence ; perhaps 
 he had some special friend who had sent for him — it 
 was never possible to know just what. In any case 
 it would be well to watch him. That was always 
 good. 
 
 It was in that sense that he concluded a preliminary 
 note in his pocket-book a quarter of an hour later. 
 
II 
 
 UPSTAIRS Richard Faulconbridge had already 
 commenced settling down. For him there 
 were no ugly mysteries beneath the smiling 
 surface — no bitternesses, no surprises ; there was 
 only a new and curiously brilliant pageant of life 
 awaiting his pleasure. 
 
 His room pleased him as all the rest had done. It 
 was cheerful ; the furniture attractive ; the outlook 
 charming. Immediately in front lay the great square 
 bathed in sunlight ; he speedily found that he was 
 the happy possessor of a little balcony of his own ; 
 and as he stood there, with the pigeons whirling up in 
 sudden circular flights, he felt happier than he had 
 done for many a long day. He began to believe, with 
 the resurgent fervency of youth, that the world is 
 always a good place — if one does not take oneself or 
 one's troubles too seriously. With that odd, unex- 
 pected shock which healing wounds are apt to give, 
 he suddenly remembered that it was barely more 
 than a month that he had been plunged in such 
 sombre despair ; inclined, in fact, to believe with the 
 ascetics of the Dark Ages that women are made by the 
 devil to ruin men — a doctrine which, though not pro- 
 found, is often consoling to those who cannot be accused 
 of shallowness. He had passed through romantic ad- 
 ventures before, of course — but generally he had been 
 cautious ; which is only another way of saying that 
 
 10 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 11 
 
 he had loved, resisted, and therefore regretted. Though 
 he had no overmastering belief in the permanency of 
 any passionate attachment between men and women, 
 it had been something of a shock for him to discover 
 that to be spurned is to be deeply stabbed, and that 
 though the salve of time heals everything, pride never 
 can stoically endure a fall. To put it plainly, Richard 
 Faulconbridge had been roughly treated by one for 
 whom he only cherished tendernesses, and with a 
 grim face he had gone away, seeking solace in foreign 
 travel. There was nothing in his story different in any 
 way from what daily happens ; but he liked to think 
 that his case was exceptional and undeserved. 
 
 Now half unconsciously, as his spirits rose, he 
 commenced humming a snatch from an opera which 
 had haunted him ever since he had heard it a few 
 evenings before in Warsaw. Encouraged by the quiet 
 around him, he gradually began singing, quite oblivious 
 to his surroundings. He had a rich baritone voice, full 
 of organ-like notes which seemed to make a hymn of 
 every melody ; and now, because the sunshine was so 
 bright, and the great square below so peaceful, and the 
 flight of the pigeons so graceful, and it felt so good to be 
 alive, even in his own ears that poetic refrain became a 
 song of praise. He had been so silent for weeks. . . . 
 
 He paused, perforce, as he unlocked a bag, and 
 suddenly a strange expression came over his face. It 
 was hardly coincidence — it was something more strik- 
 ing than that ; he wondered what he should call it. 
 In his surprise he could find no words to give the 
 proper name. For somewhere near by a sweet young 
 voice had commenced the very same refrain, at first 
 quite softly just as he had done, but presently with 
 whole-hearted fervour as if the song entirely pos- 
 
12 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 sessed her. And how she sang it, he murmured to 
 himself ; with what delicious sweetness ! In the 
 freshness of the early morning it sounded to him like 
 the nightingale singing to the rose. Yes — the nightin- 
 gale ; though he was not quite sure whether that 
 sweet -throated songster ever sings like that to the 
 risen day. . . . 
 
 He listened breathlessly. 
 
 " Un bel di vedremo, 
 Levarsi un fil de fumo . . . 
 SulF estremo confin del mare, 
 E poi la nave appare. . . ." 
 
 There was intoxication in the words just as there 
 was intoxication in the music. They had in them the 
 blue of the Mediterranean — the emerald of an en- 
 trancing coastline, the softness of spice-laden winds, 
 the languorous grace of reclining women, who, indeed, 
 must have inspired the wonderful composer. Yes- 
 there was an intoxication 
 
 The voice sang on to the conclusion : 
 
 " Vedi ? E venuto ! 
 Io non gli scendo incontro, Io no ! " 
 
 Then suddenly it all had ended, and there was 
 stricken silence. 
 
 " Bravo," he murmured, full of admiration, hoping 
 for more. 
 
 The sweet voice had carried so far out into the square 
 that one or two people who were idly feeding the 
 pigeons were still looking up smilingly — with open 
 pleasure in their manner — with hope that it was not 
 all over. He remembered that he had read that this 
 was a land where people always sang when they 
 felt like singing — soldiers on the march, peasants 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 13 
 
 digging and delving, women spinning and weaving — 
 in truth, a music-loving race. In the train a man with 
 a voice like a trombone had persistently thundered 
 Wagner in utter unconsciousness of those around him. 
 
 Faulconbridge stood stock-still at his open window, 
 fearing that if he were seen this ending would be really 
 final. But as the silence continued after some momen- 
 tary hesitation he went out on his balcony and care- 
 fully scanned the windows. He looked to the right, 
 he looked to the left, he looked above, he looked below. 
 Where was she — where ? She had gone — he was too 
 late. . . . Alas ! 
 
 But no. There, at a window on the floor above him, 
 a little to the left, he suddenly caught a fleeting vision 
 of a fresh young face. There was no doubt any longer ; 
 it. must be she. Yes. . . . For no sooner did she spy 
 him standing gravely there and looking up, than she 
 leant forward and burst out laughing — laughing as if 
 her heart would break — with two hands, indeed, 
 clasped across that little organ as if to prevent such 
 a dire catastrophe. 
 
 Slowly he reddened. She was laughing at him. . . . 
 With what object — with what meaning ? 
 
 He remembered now how he had ti ailed off in the 
 refrain into an impasse — there was one passage he 
 never got quite right. She had chimed in after him 
 just then — probably to mock him in a double sense : 
 for he knew enough Italian to attach to the words she 
 had sung a subtle meaning. Indeed, it was clear — 
 very clear. She was not coming to meet him — she 
 had sung — which meant, of course, that she fully 
 expected he would come to her if she should happen 
 to want it. 
 
 And just then the face which in her amusement she 
 
14 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 had averted was turned straight down towards him, 
 and his heart gave a second great jump. 
 
 It was impossible ; it could not be true ; it was an 
 insane thing ! Yet there was the unanswerable 
 evidence of his eyes. The mole on the right cheek, the 
 big calm eyes, the long straight eyebrows, the milk- 
 white skin, the full lips, the poise of the head — every- 
 thing was complete. She was the living, breathing 
 image of the girl he was trying to forget. . . . The 
 living, breathing image, he repeated to himself, 
 staring fixedly. And then, in a flash, she had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 He commenced settling down in his room in ominous 
 silence with a heavy frown on his face, wondering 
 exactly what this meant — wondering why this should 
 have come. He was openly bewildered at the strange 
 turn things had taken. He tried to think of the 
 more prosaic side, vainly attempting to banish the 
 memory of that face. Now he felt that, in spite of the 
 fair promise of the day, he had already commenced 
 badly — had somehow made himself absurd. His 
 thoughts were, indeed, a jumble : a dozen contra- 
 dicting ideas vainly strove for mastery. 
 
 Possibly she was still laughing at him — why had she 
 laughed at all ? Was he so absurd ? He could not 
 tell exactly what had happened : or had anything 
 happened at all ? She had looked the merest slip of 
 a girl — with a suggestion of pink bows about her 
 head ; he was sure her hair had been braided down her 
 back. Then he frowned. Young ladies who laughed 
 at men from hotel windows were hardly to be taken 
 very seriously. Perhaps it was a joke. A joke ! 
 Well, to him it looked a poor one. He stared at him- 
 self in the glass. Girls were curious things and not 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 15 
 
 subject to normal judgments ; he could not tell 
 what had stirred her risibilities. If she had only not 
 laughed — it would have been easier. And that re- 
 semblance — that startling resemblance. . . . From 
 this we may judge that his confusion was real. 
 
 At last, still unaccountably downhearted, he sought 
 a gilded cage, and was shot downstairs with electrical 
 swiftness. He passed through the folding glass doors 
 of the cafe and stood there hesitatingly — w r ondering 
 what he should do. It was hardly gay here. The 
 hour, though by no means early, found the cafe pre- 
 senting as deserted an appearance as the rest of the 
 vast hotel. Where was the sleepy world that inhabited 
 this magnificence ? 
 
 A mildly interested waiter, seeing his hesitation and 
 measuring his forlornness, indicated to him with a 
 friendly wave of the hand that he might find a more 
 agreeable neighbourhood just out of doors. Turning 
 his eyes in the direction, he saw that a great canvas 
 awning was stretched above the pavement after the 
 manner of Paris ; out there the gay sunshine and the 
 palms from the Crimea set in green wooden tubs made 
 a little garden of the grimy asphalt. Yes — he would 
 breakfast there. 
 
 He paused an instant to search for a newspaper 
 among the files hanging on a great rack ; but the 
 sheet he desired was missing. Once more he had the 
 feeling that things were going against him. 
 
 A little disconsolately he went out, sat down, and 
 ordered something to eat. In the square little rubber- 
 tyred carriages, with very big horses and yet bigger 
 drivers, were now quickly arriving and drawing up 
 in a long line in preparation for the business of the 
 day. The drivers, in their curious glazed top-hats and 
 
16 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 their padded long coats of blue cloth, were congregating 
 in knots, and smoking and laughing as they exchanged 
 the gossip of the day. Occasionally one would go up 
 to his horses and speak to them and pet them in a 
 dozen little ways. Faulconbridge watched them with 
 interest — and became more contented as he looked 
 — they were a burly, handsome set of fellows, full of 
 kindliness. Yes — this was a pleasant land, in spite 
 of all experiences to the contrary. 
 
 His eyes, travelling round the tables under the great 
 awning, marked the few people who were there. It 
 must be a lazy town, in all truth, rising late, staying 
 up late. He remembered the stories he had heard of 
 Russian bacchanalia, the madness of their night life. 
 Nine o'clock, almost ten o'clock, and hardly a soul 
 about. Yes, it was a late town. And just then 
 something caused him to turn right round to a corner 
 made by the projecting wall of the building. 
 
 Involuntarily a tell-tale wave of colour once more 
 stained his cheeks. He was somehow certain that he 
 could not be wrong ; he had the feeling which only 
 comes with absolute certainty. Yet was it really 
 possible ? For not five yards away, ensconced behind 
 a palm, eating something suspiciously like a pechc 
 Melba, with the very paper he had wanted half 
 masking her face, was a youthful lady, who drummed 
 on the ground with her foot and moved uneasily in 
 her chair. He was quite certain that it was she — the 
 girl who had sung. 
 
 This time his surprise was so complete that he did 
 not trouble to hide it. He determined to solve the 
 riddle. 
 
 He could not properly see her face, not even after 
 he had taken the trouble to change his seat, since the 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 17 
 
 paper now formed an impenetrable screen. Yet as 
 he fitfully glanced at her, wondering if there was some 
 subtle design behind this unexpected reappearance, 
 he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was still 
 laughing at him, silently, mockingly, derisively — 
 laughing as if he had been specially made for her to 
 laugh at. ... He suddenly remembered the subtle 
 dictum that laughter exists primarily to repress any 
 separatist tendency in society, to punish certain fail- 
 ings of rigidity. Yet just now the generalization gave 
 him scant comfort . This was becoming something less — 
 or more — than a joke : he was determined to fathom it. 
 
 He devoured his breakfast with a fierceness new to 
 him ; and the attentive waiter, dodging about in the 
 background and trying to anticipate his every want, 
 at last withdrew with an audible sigh and a commiser- 
 ating shrug of the shoulders. For Mr. Richard Faulcon- 
 bridge was now far too angry to wish in any way to 
 hide the fact. Why should he be laughed at ? He had 
 never been laughed at like that before in his life— on 
 the contrary, he had been taken all too seriously. 
 What was the nature of this hilarity which had been 
 constructed at his expense out of nothing at all ? 
 And how was it possible for him in any way to show 
 his resentment ; without risking a worse rebuff ? 
 
 He did not propose being beaten, however, his 
 pride forbade that. So his breakfast completed, for 
 a slow half an hour he sat there in stolid and stubborn 
 silence ; then, with sudden resolution, as if he had 
 waited long enough, he rose, and with five long strides 
 he had overlooked the immovable paper screen. The 
 big grey eyes which gazed calmly into his, and the 
 amazing resemblance, almost checked him ; but with 
 a curt bow he drove his resolution onwards. He spoke 
 
18 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 in German — the language which everyone to-day 
 understands out of France. 
 
 " Will you permit me to glance at that paper — if 
 you have quite finished with it ? " he said, trying to 
 appear unconcerned and only feeling absurd. 
 
 The big grey eyes, set in the girlish face, did not 
 flinch an instant ; and he was suddenly conscious 
 that he was being coldly assured in the same language 
 that the paper had not yet been finished with. 
 
 He brought up his reserves — he was not yet beaten. 
 He waved a pitying hand at the eccentricity which 
 he had been long calmly observing. 
 
 " It must be difficult to read like that, upside down," 
 he observed, his satirical vein bringing him comfort. 
 
 The girl glanced at him, shrugged her shoulders, 
 and then suddenly became almost conversational. 
 She had pretty shoulders and she knew it. 
 
 " People say that nowadays it is the only way to get 
 the right meaning — everything is so inspired." 
 
 Before he knew it he had paused in his desire to 
 crush her. His humorous mouth was struggling with 
 a smile which threatened to overthrow the rest of his 
 face. He knew something about the press — and this 
 idea appealed to him. 
 
 He looked at her in growing surprise. Not only was 
 she a humorist, but she found interest in The Times. 
 The combination was surely unique. 
 
 " But you must be able to speak English if you read 
 it," he remarked, a little lamely. He recognized that 
 not only was he not progressing — but that she was 
 manifestly conscious of the advantage which he could 
 not take from her. 
 
 " I can," she replied curtly, with a resumption of 
 her more distant manner. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 19 
 
 " Let us then speak it," he said, almost gently, in 
 his mother tongue. 
 
 She dropped the sheet suddenly on her table, and 
 now clasped her hands with a strangely graceful 
 movement. He forgot the startling resemblance which 
 he had first discovered in the new discoveries which he 
 was making. He became increasingly aware of the 
 fact that she was something more than merely pretty, 
 and that her assumed haughtiness made her truly 
 delicious. In her cool muslin she was as fresh as a 
 budding rose sparkling in the morning dew. 
 
 " So you want to speak to me ! " she began very 
 deliberately in English — using short, sharp sentences 
 together with a curious phrasing which made her 
 words all the more attractive. " And why, may I 
 ask ? You do not like me ; you have been angry 
 with me, I can see that, just because I laughed ! Yes 
 — it is plain to me. Therefore you only want to 
 wheedle me out of my paper — to take my paper from 
 me — just as I was going to commence the article on 
 the Bourse." 
 
 Once again the humour of the situation possessed 
 him, and in spite of the reproof he openly laughed. 
 
 " Pardon me again, I did not know that I was 
 interrupting so important an operation/' he said. 
 "It is strange to find a speculator so early in the 
 morning — especially here." He threw a glance, full 
 of amusement, round the al fresco restaurant. In 
 truth, it was hardly the neighbourhood for market 
 operations. 
 
 But her grave eyes still looked solemnly into his, 
 and he was conscious that the advantage still re> 
 mained with her. 
 
 " A speculator ? " she echoed, " I am no specu- 
 
20 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 lator. I am only following the course of City of Mos- 
 cow bonds from day to day, because I have been told 
 by men who know that money speaks the truth where 
 journalists lie. You see I am strictly practical. And 
 now I think I will have another fieche Melba." 
 
 She rattled a spoon against her plate in the Russian 
 manner to attract the attention of a passing waiter ; 
 and when she had dispatched him on her errand she 
 no longer looked up. 
 
 Faulconbridge — completely baffled — turned to go, 
 and then stopped short. 
 
 " What a thing to eat in the morning," he murmured 
 audaciously. 
 
 He was conscious that her eyes had travelled up to 
 his face with slow disdain. Now she studied him for 
 a moment as if he were merely a curious object and 
 not a man. Then her graceful shoulders suddenly 
 signalled indifference again with an instinctive shrug. 
 An ironical smile hovered around her lips. An amusing 
 idea had evidently struck her ; for suddenly she leaned 
 back in her chair with an air of bravado. 
 
 " Are you my doctor ? " she inquired. " If you are 
 not my doctor you can hardly know what is good for 
 me and what is bad. It is not given to everyone to 
 decide that." Then coolly watching him redden she 
 slowly added : "I shall send the waiter with the 
 paper in ten minutes." 
 
 He was dismissed ! 
 
 He did not wait, of course, for that interval to 
 elapse, but quickly stalked into the hall and com- 
 menced asking the polyglot porter some aimless 
 questions. He was so extraordinarily angry that he 
 did not really know what he asked — nor did he trouble 
 about the answers. He only knew that he had been 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 21 
 
 beaten out of court by a girl who had previously had 
 the happiness of laughing at him, and who was probably 
 laughing at him still— the whole texture of humilia- 
 tions being woven out of something less than the 
 lightest gossamer. Bitterly he reproached himself ; 
 
 why had he been so impulsive ? 
 
 " Sir ? " said the polyglot porter respectfully- 
 trying to put meaning to his muttering. 
 
 He collected himself with a start : 
 
 " I asked about the Kremlin— the hours it is open ? ' 
 
 The polyglot porter, glad to be relieved, waved his 
 hand. Three guides precipitated themselves. 
 
 " The Kremlin Museum, Imperial Palace of the 
 Czars," began one in English. 
 
 " Si monsieur desire visiter le Palais, le mu see," said 
 the second in French. 
 
 " Est ist gestattet," began the third in German. 
 
 " Damn," muttered Faulconbridge peevishly. 
 
 " Se vole parlare italiano, signore," broke in one of 
 them, who was a humorist. 
 
 " Se habla espanol," grinned a comrade. 
 
 " Look here," Faulconbridge remarked severely to 
 the three. "This is all very entertaining, I have 
 no doubt, but I don't want to go to-day. I only want 
 to know about the hours. To-morrow I shall see " 
 
 With a curt nod he broke away and made for the 
 lifts. As he was rapidly whisked out of sight, the 
 three guides looked at one another blankly. 
 
 " Mad ? " suggested one. 
 
 " No — English," replied another. 
 
 " But " said the third. 
 
 The polyglot porter, having finished writing off by 
 heart the room-numbers on half a hundred letters, 
 suddenly threw down his heavy blue pencil, and 
 
22 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 became conversational — that is, as conversational as 
 his nature permitted. 
 
 " Woman," he remarked, ringing for a hall-boy to 
 take the letters, on an electric bell that sounded like 
 a fire-alarm. 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed the three guides simultaneously. 
 
 " Sasha, the Polish girl," he added condescendingly, 
 as the hall-boy carried off the letters for distribution. 
 
 " Sasha," commented the guide from the Baltic 
 provinces, who was rather phlegmatic. 
 
 " Sasha," abruptly said the Greek with the twisted 
 smile. 
 
 " Sasha," dreamily murmured the Italian guide, 
 who had had a Russian mother. 
 
 They would have liked some further details — they 
 would have liked to hear how it was possible for a 
 man who had only entered the hotel an hour or two 
 before to have made such progress with this fascinating 
 person who treated everyone else with such open con- 
 tempt. He had been seen with her — he had spoken 
 to her — the hall-porter probably knew all the details. 
 
 But the hall-porter was already otherwise engaged. 
 The fat Frenchman, who had arrived that same morn- 
 ing, had come up to him only to be accosted by a boy 
 in buttons with a letter in his hand. 
 
 " Yes, that is my name, Verdard, Emile Verdard," 
 he assented. Quickly he tore open the envelope and 
 became deeply interested in its contents. " No 
 answer," he said at length, " no answer at all." Then 
 he went on with his conversation with the porter — 
 speaking in a whisper, and gesticulating constantly. 
 
 The guides, disappointed in their hopes of extracting 
 further explanations, shrugged their shoulders ex- 
 pressively, and held out their hands much as men do 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 23 
 
 in a pantomime. It was a mystery, a tantalizing 
 mystery, which, of course, would in time be solved, 
 as are all mysteries in this very little world. Then, 
 after a moment's hesitation, they fell back into their 
 respective corners — waiting, as they passed their lives 
 in waiting, for the flotsam and jetsam of travel to be 
 cast up beside them for them to devour. 
 
 In the middle distance the fat Frenchman continued 
 to talk in the same impressive manner as was no 
 doubt only right and proper for a queer man with a 
 queer past to do. 
 
Ill 
 
 MONSIEUR EMILE VERDARD had begun 
 life unromantically — to be frank, as a cook. 
 At the tender age of twelve he had been torn 
 from studies which had never greatly engrossed him 
 and incontinently thrust into a kitchen. There, 
 amidst a great array of brightly polished pots and 
 pans, he had served a rude enough apprenticeship, 
 which had resulted in his finally acquiring a perfect 
 knowledge of what appeared to the late lamented 
 Brillat-Savarin as nothing short of a divine art. 
 
 No one will question that there is the nature that 
 makes for cooking just as there is the nature that 
 makes for martyrdom ; Emile Verdard appeared to 
 have been marked out by a benignant fate simply 
 and solely for the kitchen. Certain it is that at the 
 age of eighteen he could roast to perfection, and that 
 before he was twenty his sauces began to attract the 
 attention of his patrons. It is only necessary to add 
 that, flushed with pride, he soon began to invent dishes 
 of his own — that is, to give new sauces to old dishes, 
 and to compound very original salads which were uni- 
 versally declared hors concours. In a land that is 
 justly famed for its cooks this was something more 
 than praise. 
 
 But Verdard had ambitions — one day cooking no 
 longer satisfied his soul. Doubtlessly his was no 
 very unique case ; indeed, it may happen often that 
 
 24 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 25 
 
 cooks are discontented. Do we ever think of the hand 
 which prepared the succulent dish which we so hastily 
 devour as aching for other pursuits ? Do we ever 
 picture to ourselves as we eat, how dull must be the 
 drudgery of dish-making ? We do not ; as trencher- 
 knights we are too busy for that. 
 
 In any case, Verdard was not happy ; far from it ! 
 He was an idealist, an idealogue — that is, he was given 
 overmuch to thinking, and to framing his thoughts in 
 ornate language. If a good cook, why not a good 
 something else ? If he excelled in one direction, why 
 should he not equally well excel in some other ? That 
 is the way he reasoned — as many have reasoned before 
 him in some ignorance of the philosophers, and so it 
 logically followed that the more he thought the more 
 unhappy he became. 
 
 He had a taste for politics, he was quite sure — that 
 is a great taste for intrigue, which is perhaps as kind 
 a way as any of defining a cloaca maxima. Like many 
 of his countrymen, he was an indefatigable reader of 
 newspapers ; he was always studying situations and 
 socialists ; and after as long a course of apprentice- 
 ship in the mysteries of politics as he had devoted to 
 the mysteries of cooking, he suddenly announced that 
 he had commenced thinking politically about most 
 things on earth. What's in a name ? He might just 
 as well have said mathematically, though there is 
 more excuse for that if Pythagoras is to be believed. 
 
 His was a bizarre taste. He liked to take the strange 
 countries of the earth and make all sorts of queer things 
 happen to them — so that he could intervene with what 
 he called his " logical solutions." He liked to spread 
 out maps and write down figures and estimates, and 
 work out problems by rules which he alone understood. 
 
26 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 He became obsessed with the idea that his was une 
 carriere manquee — a life spent in vain. That was what 
 he repeatedly told his friends, who thereupon shrugged 
 their shoulders and began laughing in their sleeves. 
 
 Soon he took to reading books in great quantities, 
 all sorts of books, good books and bad books, big 
 books and little books, but specially histories, as well 
 as the personal narratives of actors in those frantic 
 events which we call revolutions. The monumental 
 writings of Monsieur Thiers and Monsieur Taine bored 
 him infinitely, but there were others whom he pro- 
 nounced enchanting. Lamartine — there, for instance, 
 was a man after his own heart ! He knew The History 
 of the Girondists almost by heart, as well as The History 
 of the Restoration of the Monarchy in France and The 
 History of the Revolution of 184.8, He could even 
 recite by heart that famous opening passage which 
 runs : "I now undertake to write the history of 
 a small party of men who, cast by Providence into the 
 greatest drama of modern times, comprise in them- 
 selves the ideas, the passions, the faults, the virtues 
 of their epoch. ..." 
 
 What fine words indeed ! After reading them 
 Verdard felt that by nature, by destiny, by desire, 
 he was a Girondist, a perfect Girondist — not know- 
 ing that has never been a good thing to con- 
 fess, since it is both too little and too much. Yet 
 that was not his view — the Girondists were for him 
 logical and philosophical — everything that was good 
 and sane. Musing in his shirt -sleeves in the evenings 
 at the back-door of his little house, which opened out 
 on to a kitchen garden gay with cabbages and peas, 
 and from which the sluggish Rhone could be perceived 
 in the distance, it was his constant endeavour to dis- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 27 
 
 cover by what chain of tragedies Heaven's Own 
 Elected should have effected so little in the glorious 
 past. 
 
 One fine day he made up his mind. Like the famous 
 abbe Sieyes of the great Revolutionary days, he be- 
 lieved that he had exhausted the academic possibilities 
 of politics and political systems, and that it was high 
 time for him to turn his attention to more practical 
 phases of the art. In a word, he believed that he 
 knew everything worth knowing from books. Perhaps 
 this was not so very strange. In the inspiring odour 
 of the kitchen the world must often appear as nothing 
 much more than a giant stew in which cooks and 
 cooked mingle their destinies and yet remain distinct. 
 Verdard was determined to be of the cooks — outside 
 the kitchen as well as within. 
 
 Yet how should he begin ? To ask the question was 
 to answer it. 
 
 He would cut the cord — conspire. . . . 
 
 He began by being commonplace — but only for a 
 short while. He attended some foolish meetings, and 
 he heard the ranting of the Camelots du Roi, and others 
 of like kidney, who think that phrases are solvents, and 
 that, if needs be, a few bombs will do the rest. But 
 Verdard was no fool. He was not deluded by the 
 specious arguments he heard so violently advanced. 
 He knew that it was nonsense to dream of a modern 
 revolution without the army's active help — added to 
 which a certain sense of propriety forbade him from 
 thinking that a mere sergeant in the reserve was the 
 person called upon to play a leading part in a fore- 
 most European State, though once a little corporal 
 had done a good deal more than that. It was doubt- 
 less in other fields— not in France — that he was called 
 
28 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 upon to show himself a man of destiny. But 
 where ? 
 
 He did not become discouraged — though his imagina- 
 tion was admittedly in danger of failing him. Indeed, 
 between the time of his discharge from active service 
 and his passing into the territorial reserve — a period 
 of ten busy years — he worked so hard that his local 
 fame began suddenly to spread far and wide. But with 
 his ever-increasing girth to remind him that the 
 passage of years infallibly leaves its marks and its 
 disabilities on all of us alike, at length it became abun- 
 dantly clear to him that unless he acted soon, Nature 
 — that stern mistress — might inflexibly forbid his 
 wandering into more varied fields. 
 
 Just then a curious thing happened — he discovered 
 Beaumarchais — Beaumarchais, the great and wonder- 
 ful Beaumarchais. At once the world became a 
 diff erent world for him. He understood in a flash — as 
 does some great inventor who suddenly finds the solu- 
 tion of a difficulty which has long perplexed him — that 
 the road ahead was at last clear. Briefly, he had simply 
 to copy Beaumarchais — avoiding the errors into which 
 that singular character fell — to become not only great, 
 but the soul of some historic movement. 
 
 The soul of some historic movement — how alluring 
 that sounded ! 
 
 For weeks after his discovery of Beaumarchais he 
 lived in that remarkable man's exploits. He became 
 so familiar with them that sometimes he thought, as 
 he worked in his steamy kitchen with his fat face red 
 from the heat of the flames, of writing a biography to 
 be grandiloquently styled, " Beaumarchais, by Emile 
 Verdard, Imitator." It was only the fear that such 
 a publication would inevitably concentrate the world's 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 29 
 
 attention on him which prevented him from carrying 
 out his audacious literary plan. Yet he felt he owed 
 it to the genius of his teacher. Had not Beaumarchais 
 and no other man made the success of the American 
 Revolution ? Yes — he was soon quite sure of that ! 
 Washington, Hamilton, Rochambeau, Lafayette — 
 without Beaumarchais these men were all nothing. 
 Beaumarchais had been the beginner, the pioneer, the 
 arch-plotter, the arch-fiend, if you like. He had lighted 
 the fire ; the others had merely fanned it. What man 
 with an open mind could doubt it, after learning the 
 true facts ? 
 
 A Parisian pur sang, full of the inexhaustible verve 
 and dash of his own immortal creation, " Figaro," in 
 his Le Manage de Figaro, Beaumarchais had been 
 successively watchmaker, inventor, harpist to the 
 Court, a promoter of vast business enterprises, a 
 pamphleteer, duellist, adventurer, secret political agent 
 — in short, a man of astounding vitality and resource- 
 fulness. It was this person, Verdard had learnt with 
 so much astonishment, who early made up his mind 
 to avenge his country on England, and to wipe out the 
 shame of the loss of Canada. Two years before France 
 and Spain had decided to act in the waters of the 
 American Continent, Beaumarchais had already de- 
 clared war. Establishing himself at Le Havre, he had 
 sent to the Americans 30,000 rifles, 200 cannon, 4000 
 tents, and vast stores of provisions. His fleets were 
 in constant communication with the revolutionary 
 leaders ; his generals organized their armies. He had 
 lighted the fire, and how the fire had blazed ! Then — 
 somehow — from being everything, from being the 
 soul of the revolution, Beaumarchais had become 
 nothing — absolutely nothing. Yet it was easy to 
 
30 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 understand. Like all pioneers, the successes which 
 he had sown were reaped by others. Poor Beau- 
 marchais. . . . 
 
 It disconcerted Verdard greatly, it cannot be here 
 disguised, to reflect on the end of this remarkable 
 man, for he could not forget that he not only had no 
 statues erected to his memory, but that he practically 
 died a beggar. A beggar — that was singularly cruel ! 
 His arithmetic must have been at fault, no matter 
 how true his heart may have been — that was the only 
 possible explanation. A man who had been a cook 
 would not make that mistake. Beaumarchais could 
 only be imitated up to a certain point, but not beyond. 
 
 One day Verdard walked into his proprietor's office 
 and laid his resignation on his desk. He had finished 
 with cooking, he abruptly said. 
 
 He would always remember the scene — the stuffy 
 little room, with its hideous blue papering ; the piles 
 of accounts on the table ; the sample bottles of wine 
 encumbering the floor ; the bushy eyebrows of the 
 proprietor as he stared at him ; the green branch of a 
 tree almost touching the window. Indeed, it was a 
 memorable scene — it had been so short, sharp, and 
 dramatic. Expostulations, recriminations, vocifera- 
 tions, all had proved in vain — stolidly Verdard had 
 kept to his one point : that he had decided to give up 
 a profession which has now all too few devoted masters. 
 
 " And why ? ' at last exclaimed the proprietor, 
 rage and despair fighting for mastery in his voice. His 
 chef was his greatest asset. 
 
 Verdard dissembled : 
 
 " Because I am rich — I have two hundred thousand 
 francs " 
 
 " Thanks to me — to your participation in the 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 31 
 
 profits. Ungrateful man — it is thus that we are 
 always served ! ' 
 
 Monsieur Emile Verdard did not trouble to answer 
 this apostrophe ; he merely shrugged his fat shoulders 
 and looked in the direction in which heaven is said 
 to lie. He knew the value of his services 
 
 And because he did that — because he was so calm — 
 a worse fear suddenly pa i the proprietor. He 
 
 became pale. 
 
 " Swear to me that you do not intend to set up a 
 rival establishment." 
 
 Verdard smiled contemptuously. 
 
 " Monsieur/' he said, with a grandiose wave of his 
 podgy hands, assuming an attitude which might have 
 been impressive had his tissues not been so extrava- 
 gant, " Monsieur, I would have you know that I am 
 going to allow my destiny to assert itself — have I 
 not said that I have finished with kitchens ? ' 
 
 " You mean ? " 
 
 " That I am going into politics." 
 
 " Unhappy man," exclaimed the proprietor, his 
 voice full of a pity artfully simulated, ' you are 
 already lost." 
 
 " Monsieur," replied the ci-devant cook, " you are 
 mistaken. So far from being lost, I have already won. 
 I have behind me something stronger than any govern- 
 ment — the strongest thing in the world, an uncon- 
 querable people. Do 3-ou know the history of the 
 struggle of the Dutch against the Spanish Empire ? ' 
 
 " Is this man mad ? ' murmured the proprietor, 
 who knew nothing about history, or indeed little about 
 anything save the arithmetic of money-making 
 " Spanish Empire — Dutch people — what does it mean ? 
 Is he mad ? " 
 
32 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " No — he is the very contrary," replied Verdard in 
 a firm voice. " Wait and see, I say ; wait." 
 
 And refusing to explain himself, he withdrew. 
 
 That is precisely how he had ended his connection 
 with kitchens. 
 
 What he had said was true — that is, as true as are 
 most absolute statements, remembering that truth is 
 as elusive as a will-o'-the-wisp, being merely a point 
 of view caught from a certain fugitive angle, and even 
 then only vaguely understood by man's imperfect 
 intelligence. Fate had willed that a few months before 
 he should sit drinking an evening absinthe at a cafe 
 close to two foreigners. They had been talking to one 
 another in a language of which he did not understand 
 a word — a language full of sibilants and sighs, and 
 yet possessing heavy, hammer-like terminations. 
 
 Though he could understand nothing, Verdard had 
 his suspicions ; and presently the name of a place gave 
 him the needed clue. At once his mind leaped to a 
 conclusion — the obvious conclusion — they were Rus- 
 sians — revolutionaries. . . . How could he ever have 
 been in doubt ? 
 
 He showed his immense interest in his alert manner. 
 He was a new man — he was reborn. . . . Presently, 
 unable to contain himself any longer, he rose from 
 his seat and approached them. 
 
 " Messieurs," he said politely, "as I am interested 
 in Russia and know something of her strange politics, 
 will you permit me, without offence, to join you ? ' 
 
 The two strangers, though highly suspicious, had 
 perforce assented. When a man sits down like that 
 there are only two things to do — either to accept him 
 or to insult him. Caution dictated the former ; the 
 two strangers had never regretted their complaisance. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 33 
 
 It was long past midnight when the three had parted 
 company. The first step had been taken ; that 
 memorable night Monsieur Emile Verdard had not 
 slept from sheer excitement and joy. 
 
 He had not learnt much, it is true, in the way of 
 absolute information. But he was sufficiently philo- 
 sophic to know that the quest of the absolute is a 
 somewhat vain quest in this best of worlds, and the 
 little he had extracted had amply satisfied him. His 
 two companions had strenuously denied that they 
 cared about politics — they were nothing but plain 
 Moscow merchants. They had admitted, of course, 
 that common humanity made them solicitous regard- 
 ing the welfare of their own race, and that it had 
 actually occurred, since the thing was very much 
 a la mode, for friends of theirs to join from time to 
 time this or that League. But beyond that they 
 refused to compromise themselves ; they had nothing 
 to state. 
 
 Strangely enough, however, their business in the 
 provincial town which had so long sheltered the person 
 of the imaginative cook kept them there for week after 
 week ; and at the end of a month of fitful intercourse 
 they suddenly admitted Monsieur Verdard to one of 
 their secrets. It is hard to find the precise reason why 
 they should have suddenly become so amiable ; per- 
 haps it was that they had really recognized in this fat 
 yet eloquent bourgeois a personality of some poten- 
 tiality. In any case they told him without further 
 subterfuge that they were buying picric acid, and that 
 they were willing to receive ideas as to how it might 
 be packed in a safe way. 
 
 That night Verdard had slept less than ever. 
 
 " At last, at last," he repeated to himself endlessly, 
 
 3 
 
34 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 waking himself up again and again by the sound of his 
 muttering. The road ahead was indeed lighted with a 
 lurid light. Picric acid — wonderful, wonderful ! He 
 saw whole populations of people who had disagreed 
 with him in the past blown up — hurled to the very 
 top of the skies by his fearful explosions ! What 
 splendid dreams ! What a splendid future ! 
 
 Of course, after that he commenced studying 
 chemistry — he was drawn towards chemistry as a 
 magnet infallibly draws to itself iron filings. 
 
 He learnt without great surprise that this curious 
 acid, though exploding with great energy when heated, 
 is very easily prepared, and is employed to dye silk and 
 wool yellow — a legitimate enough article to purchase 
 in the Lyons district. After some brain cudgelling he 
 conceived a safe way of packing a large quantity which 
 even his two ingenious friends proclaimed a master- 
 piece. Certainly Verdard had a political head. 
 
 It is unnecessary to give in any great detail his 
 surprising progress since those early days. His 
 imaginative powers were great — his mind most in- 
 genious — his ideals so purely republican that he could 
 only picture salvation as coming through the medium 
 of high explosives. Associated as business partner 
 with his two friends, who were army contractors as 
 well as liberators, he had personally secured the 
 passage across Europe of a formidable quantity of 
 explosives, some hidden in the most ingenious ways, 
 other lots openly imported under special warrant, not 
 to speak of a traffic in automatic pistols, which was 
 still more lucrative, and at which the frontier custom- 
 houses almost openly connived. 
 
 Two years had elapsed since his first novitiate — two 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 35 
 
 busy and happy years ; not only had he gained 
 experience and satisfied the secret promptings of his 
 heart, but he had made money as well. 
 
 It was for this reason that he had been so affable 
 on the express which had borne him into the ancient 
 capital of Muscovy ; he believed, as we often believe 
 when our digestions are good and our purses full, that 
 he was in the hey-day of his success, and that he was 
 beyond danger. 
 
IV 
 
 IN a little sitting-room, on the third story of a 
 great apartment -house, a tall man, with a blond 
 beard shot with grey, sat waiting. Before him 
 on a plain deal table lay two open books. One was 
 that part of Kant's work which deals with The Cate- 
 gorical Imperative, the other was Block's Modern 
 Weapons and Modern War. Thus juxtaposed they 
 seemed to elucidate the tall man as no words could 
 have done. He was a dreamer. 
 
 He had stopped reading now and was gazing out of 
 the window at the blue sky with a far-away look in 
 his eyes. His long, thin, aristocratic hands, which he 
 had folded on the table, showed that he was not 
 only a student, but a gentleman. His clothes betrayed 
 the same characteristics ; it was somehow plain to 
 every discerning eye that he would have worn sack- 
 cloth with an air of distinction. 
 
 The walls of the room were lined with books ; 
 various stools and tables were stacked with them ; and 
 in a big arm-chair lay a mass of maps, covered with 
 queer marks, just as they had been carelessly thrown 
 down. In one corner of the room a single handsome 
 painting proclaimed that the occupant not only read 
 and studied, but was a man of means — and of taste — 
 as well. 
 
 He sat there looking out of the window at the blue 
 sky as if he loved it. He had been much in the fields 
 
 36 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 37 
 
 and woods as a younger man, and he worshipped the 
 mysteries of the vaulted deep as if he still held the 
 simple creed that Nature is God. 
 
 He sat there, not idly as some men sit when they 
 are doing nothing, but rather as if his contemplation 
 were a prayer — as all true contemplation should be. In 
 truth, he was in communion with great thoughts — 
 with thoughts which inspired him and stirred him to 
 his inmost soul ; and as a ray of sunlight shot in and 
 illumined his head there was that about him which 
 recalled those numberless portraits of the Christ which 
 adorn the Italian galleries. 
 
 So motionless did he remain that some chirping 
 sparrows suddenly invaded the window-sill and dis- 
 coursed noisily to themselves about this strange living 
 thing. The sparrows twittered to themselves and 
 fluttered mightily until they were sure that all was 
 well ; and then, at last, emboldened by all this talk, 
 one or two dropped to the floor and stole a few 
 crumbs which had fallen there. It was singularly 
 peaceful in that room high above the street. 
 
 Presently the tall man sighed and sat up ever so 
 little. His ear, long trained to catch faint sounds, 
 had heard footsteps. The first appointment of the 
 day was indeed overdue. 
 
 He did not shift his position as he heard a servant 
 open an outer door ; and when a knock came, he 
 called back in the musical voice which so many 
 Russians possess. 
 
 A very bulky man came in, bundling forward as 
 if he were being propelled by some hidden machinery. 
 It was no other person than Emile Verdard, hat in 
 hand, and a formidable black portfolio under his 
 arm. 
 
38 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " Good morning, Monsieur le Baron/' said he in 
 French, with a deep and respectful bow. 
 
 " Good morning," said his host, rising and shaking 
 hands with curious indifference. " Throw those maps 
 off that chair and seat yourself. They are maps con- 
 nected with my magnum opus — the position of Russian 
 agriculture." He, too, had spoken in French, with 
 the purest of accents. 
 
 " I trust I have not kept you waiting, Monsieur le 
 Baron ? " 
 
 The tall, blond man smiled faintly. 
 
 " No," he said slowly and reflectively, as if he were 
 carefully considering the matter ; "I cannot say you 
 have. I have been waiting — for some time — to be 
 precise, for twenty years." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Verdard, " ah." 
 
 He liked that reply ; it was so philosophic. In- 
 deed, it enchanted him — it was a mot worth re- 
 membering, and making his own. Before men of a 
 more practical race it would have possibly fallen 
 flat : Verdard had the signal advantage of being 
 imaginative. 
 
 " I duly received your letter which was lying for 
 me at the hotel, but I only arrived two hours ago from 
 Warsaw," resumed the fat Frenchman, whose breath- 
 ing was still a little stertorous from the steep ascent of 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Really," said the blond man, with a sudden assump- 
 tion of surprise ; " how came that ? ' 
 
 Verdard made his first effect — he loved doing that. 
 Spreading out his arms, he suddenly closed them 
 across his formidable paunch as if to protect it from 
 danger. Then he shot a rapid glance round the room 
 as an actor might have done. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 39 
 
 " There is much suspicion about/' he said very 
 softly for such a big man. 
 
 " Ah," said the blond man, using the same exclama- 
 tion the other had done previously, "ah." 
 
 He had seated himself during these preliminary 
 remarks. Now he rose once more and walked to the 
 window. He stood there staring down at the street 
 with a new expression overcasting his features. His 
 face suddenly seemed worn— as if his spirit were weary 
 with waiting and bearing the strain of an impending 
 future. For those who endlessly think and contrive, 
 the future is always Damoclean— a keen, razor-like 
 knife to cut down all who are arrogant enough to wish 
 to interfere with fate. Would the knife fall on him ? 
 Behind him Verdard smiled in his satisfaction. He 
 loved to see his words produce such quick effects. He 
 had brought news— from Warsaw. He knew the 
 exact position there beneath the surface— he had 
 much to gossip about. In a minute he would fire 
 his second shot— a very fine second shot, as he thought. 
 But his satisfaction was short-lived. The blond 
 man turned at last and looked steadily at him. 
 
 " Why are you suspected ? " he inquired unex- 
 pectedly. " What have you been doing ? Talking 
 again ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," replied his visitor, " I fail to catch 
 your meaning." 
 
 " Then you are dull to-day, my friend ; it was only 
 three months ago that you were heard talking over- 
 much in Paris— the report passed through myTiands." 
 Verdard's rubicund face became surcharged with 
 such a ludicrous expression that in spite of himself his 
 host smiled. But he speedily checked himself— for it 
 was a serious matter that this fat, vainglorious fellow 
 
40 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 should so constantly compromise himself with the 
 secret police. He had been useful, very useful in the 
 past ; but if he talked his usefulness became a source 
 of danger, and nothing else. 
 
 " I remember now — I remember now," interposed 
 the Frenchman indignantly; "it was Zemlianski, yes, 
 I am sure, Zemlianski, who has always been jealous 
 of me. I said nothing more than any man may say 
 who has succeeded. In brief, I simply told my story 
 as a story of a man whom once I had known. There 
 were no clues — no clues at all, Zemlianski is a Pole — 
 
 everybody knows that the Poles " He stopped 
 
 just in time as he remembered that his host was of 
 that nationality. 
 
 "What is success? ' inquired the tall, blond man, 
 not noticing the hiatus, but shooting an instinctive 
 glance at Kant's work. It was his vice, as is the case 
 with most thinkers, always to prefer the abstract to 
 the concrete. 
 
 " Monsieur," interjected the Frenchman, as if he 
 did not understand. He was not given to considering 
 such a question — just now — to his mind it smacked 
 of charlatanism. His capacity for appreciating ab- 
 stractions had miraculously disappeared. 
 
 " I inquired what was success — at what point in 
 life can one truly stop short, and boldly say, ' I am 
 successful ' ? It is an interesting question that has 
 never been properly considered. If, when you say it, 
 you mean that you have arrived at the highest summit, 
 then beyond there must be a decline — the long, dreary 
 slopes which lead down towards the end. A mountain- 
 top cannot be flat — beyond a certain point the path 
 leads downwards. Have you ever reflected that to 
 proclaim yourself successful is to announce your 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 41 
 
 decline ? It has been the fault of the greatest men to 
 believe that not only have they climbed very high, 
 but that they can keep on going still higher. What 
 a delusion ! Yesterday's victory may be to-morrow's 
 disaster. Monsieur Verdard, learn to hold your tongue 
 — before it is too late." 
 
 The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders : he was 
 by no means impressed by this man's tirade. It was 
 tiresome to have to listen to a form of eloquence which 
 was tinged with pessimism. Now he began speaking 
 almost pityingly : 
 
 " It is the penalty which many pay — the penalty 
 of being misunderstood. I repeat it, I have been 
 falsely accused by a jealous man. That and nothing 
 else. If I were arrested to-morrow, the police would 
 soon be disappointed. Of evidence against me there 
 is not a scrap, I assure you ; I have been very cunning ; 
 with me, everything is covered up and blotted out. 
 Yes, Monsieur le Baron, that is the way I act. Now 
 in Warsaw " 
 
 His host interrupted him with a wave of the hand : 
 
 " Let us be calm and fix our attention on the 
 troubled future. I do not wish to hear about War- 
 saw. Have you those papers I wrote you about ? and 
 what is this new plan of yours ? " 
 
 The tall, blond man had again seated himself, and, 
 throwing one leg over the other, prepared to listen 
 attentively. 
 
 Verdard, openly relieved at the turn things had 
 now taken, at once became business-like. He had 
 certain accounts to give over and certain statements 
 to make, but these things were merely the unimportant 
 preliminaries. When he had finished, with a very new 
 manner he opened his cigar-case, selected a very big 
 
42 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 cigar, and then, with the aid of a pocket-knife, neatly 
 split it in two. Out of this he drew a roll of rice-paper 
 covered with fine writing, and smoothing this docu- 
 ment on his knees, he at length handed it over with 
 self-conscious pride. 
 
 It was a document of some importance — of very 
 great importance, in fact. The details were clearly 
 handled — no one could deny it ; and his chief read 
 over the paper several times with apparent attention. 
 Briefly it was a plan for the establishment of a 
 factory with the aid of Franco-Belgian capital in the 
 adjoining government of Smolensk — a factory which, 
 while manifestly concerned with the making of certain 
 agricultural machines, would be a secret arsenal. 
 
 " It is very clever," said the blond man at length, 
 handing it back. But at the same time he took a 
 box of matches from his pocket and threw it to his 
 companion. " Very clever indeed. It is a pity you 
 did not begin life differently. But it comes too late. 
 A year ago we could have sanctioned it. Now " 
 
 He made a rapid movement which invited the 
 Frenchman to burn the incriminating document. 
 
 " Too late," repeated the other a little blankly, 
 fumbling with the matches. His fingers had suddenly 
 become clumsy. " Too late — Monsieur — again I do 
 not quite understand." 
 
 The Baron looked at him searchingly. 
 
 " We are going to act — almost at once," he said 
 slowly. " The time for making deliberate prepara- 
 tions is long past. That is all. Do you understand ? — 
 we are going to take advantage of this war in Asia 
 and strike hard." 
 
 Verdard gave a sharp exclamation and paled per- 
 ceptibly — not because he was afraid, but because he 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 43 
 
 was excited. The interview had not been precisely 
 to his liking from the very beginning. And this was 
 the end — the thing he had come to hear. They were 
 going to act ! 
 
 " I have been suspecting something for a month 
 and more," he murmured at length, not knowing ex- 
 actly what to say. " I have seen indications which 
 have frankly puzzled me." Then he stopped abruptly. 
 They were going to act ! Diablo ! 
 
 The Baron spoke again : 
 
 " Yes, it is coming — the great moment has almost 
 arrived, but what the result will be no one dares to 
 predict." As if to comfort himself he turned back 
 to the table, picked up the volume, cleared his 
 throat, and began slowly and solemnly reading the 
 beginning of the Warsaw banker's famous book on 
 modern war much as a priest reads from the 
 Bible : 
 
 " In former times bullets, for a great part of their 
 course, flew over the heads of the combatants, and 
 were effective only for an insignificant distance. The 
 modern bullet will strike all it meets for a distance of 
 660 yards, and after the introduction of the more per- 
 fect arms now in course of preparation the effective 
 distance will be as great as 1200 yards. And as it is 
 most improbable that on the field of battle it will not 
 meet with a single human being in such a distance, 
 we may conclude that every bullet will find its victim." 
 Then he abruptly stopped. 
 
 He seemed to have fallen into a reverie, for now 
 he let his chin fall into his collar, and sat absolutely 
 motionless. The sparrows, which had twittered away 
 in alarm during this curious interview, were lulled 
 into confidence again by the unbroken quiet ; and 
 
44 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 Monsieur Verdard, with a look of growing perplexity 
 on his face, observed their antics as if they fascinated 
 him. They were going to act, they were going to act. 
 What did he mean by reading him this passage ? 
 These Russians — these Russians — always secretive, 
 always mad. . . . 
 
 He went on thinking. It was coming — the great 
 moment was coming — and he had known nothing 
 about it. That was what he must fix his attention 
 upon at once. A cheerful prospect in all truth, he 
 muttered. Yet mixed with his surprise there was a 
 growing feeling of irritation that after these years of 
 work he should be such a pawn — such a valueless 
 pawn — that it was only by chance, at the eleventh 
 hour as it were, that he had learnt the news, when the 
 humblest member of the League must have known 
 more. These Russians, these Russians. . . . 
 
 It was true, of course, that he belonged to a cate- 
 gory not directly concerned with active measures : he 
 was only a sort of licensed purveyor — a privileged 
 contractor who made ample profits because he took 
 ample risks. And yet, as everyone knew, he had 
 a soul above mere profits : he was a man of means 
 who also possessed ideals. It ill-suited his nature to be 
 so casually treated. He thought all these things 
 vaguely — confusedly, angrily, irritably adding to him- 
 self in self-pity that, of course, they were suspicious 
 of him because he was a foreigner. 
 
 His colour heightened as this view became more and 
 more pronounced. Presently he determined to give 
 vent to feelings which were rooted in something deeper 
 than his reasoning powers. He would make his in- 
 fluence felt — oh yes ! And as if by way of notifying his 
 decision he noisily cleared his throat in an ugly manner 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 45 
 
 more suggestive of his kitchen years than anything 
 else he had done that morning. 
 
 The blond man looked up : he knew Verdard 
 through and through. 
 
 " Well," he said, almost gruffly, " what is it ? " 
 
 " Monsieur le Baron," began the ci-devant cook with 
 a great attempt at dignity, " though you have re- 
 proved me this morning, you will admit, I trust, that 
 my honour is above suspicion." 
 
 A pale smile passed like a summer cloud over the 
 face of the Russian. It was as if the question was 
 a very frivolous thing in such times as these. 
 
 " Certainly, Monsieur Verdard, certainly," he re- 
 plied ; " I admit that you are a most honest man — 
 though a trifle talkative at times." 
 
 The fat man waved his hands deprecatingly. 
 
 " One has the faults of one's temperament — it is 
 inevitable. But I pass that by to come to something 
 of greater importance. Briefly, I wish to say that I 
 do not entirely welcome the narrow role assigned to 
 me in the past. Now I wish to participate in the 
 active measures which are contemplated — to play my 
 part." 
 
 He flushed as he said that— flushed with the pride 
 of an old sergeant who knew his drill-books as well as 
 any man. He had been misunderstood, misjudged — 
 he would rectify it all. You see, he was almost angry. 
 
 His host's reply was a little singular, and certainly 
 disconcerting. Without a word he got up, went to a 
 book-case, pressed a spring, and a row of books swung 
 towards him. Then he put his hands in behind and 
 drew out two Mauser revolvers, still in their heavy 
 wooden cases, some packages of cartridges, and 
 finally a little bottle with a red label. 
 
46 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 w This is what it means for me if it proves unsuccess- 
 ful. Are you also ready for that — you, who are a 
 foreigner ? It is either through the head or by way 
 of the stomach. That is all. Personally I detest 
 Siberia." 
 
 He laughed a little harshly for a man with such 
 a musical voice ; and the change did not escape 
 Verdard's sharp ears. This man did not like the idea 
 of death — he loved the blue skies and the voice of 
 Nature too well. . . . 
 
 Verdard studied him as he stood there as if he were 
 looking at a stranger. He could not help it ; the new 
 situation had disclosed the inevitable gulf between 
 the two. 
 
 " Well ? " added the blond man sharply, as if the 
 silence irritated him. 
 
 " Monsieur, I have been a soldier," said the ex- 
 cook, with a certain grave simplicity which sat him 
 well. Perhaps just then he was really in earnest ; it 
 is hard to judge our fellow-beings correctly. 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed the blond man, " then you are 
 not afraid ? " He looked at him really surprised. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Very good, very good — I shall see what can be 
 done. Meanwhile you remain at the Gastropol ? ' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 After that they shook hands without another word. 
 There was really nothing else to say. 
 
 As the faint echo of Verdard's departing footsteps 
 came through the closed door, the blond man seated 
 himself just as he had been seated before. Now he 
 took from the drawer of the table a faded photograph, 
 and gazed at it long and intently. It was a woman's 
 head, crowned with the finery of forgotten fashions — 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 47 
 
 a face with great solemn eyes that looked into his 
 speakingly, though they had long been closed and 
 dead. At last, very gently, he put the picture away. 
 
 When the sparrows ten minutes later found courage 
 to return, he was gazing at the blue sky with a far- 
 away look in his eyes, his white, refined hands folded 
 on the plain deal table. And under them was Kant's 
 work, opened at the chapters on The Categorical Im-» 
 perative, lying beside Monsieur Block's Essay on 
 Modem Weapons and Modern War. 
 
V 
 
 THE skies were just as blue, the square and the 
 grey and white pigeons just as enchanting, 
 when Richard Faulconbridge leaned over his 
 balcony the next morning and listened in vain for 
 some sound of the sweet voice which had so charmed 
 him the day before. Man-like, he had so far forgotten 
 his rebuff that he was once more humming to himself 
 — just because the sun shone so gaily. The devil of 
 adventure stirred in his young blood ; he felt in every 
 vein of his body that he could never again acquit him- 
 self so stupidly. An opportunity was all that he 
 needed to repair his mistake — an opportunity to in- 
 dulge in folly. Yet he did not even frown as he thought 
 of that ; he was entirely occupied with wondering 
 whether what he desired was to be accorded him. It 
 is always like that with men, just as it is with women ; 
 they declare that nothing again shall tempt them, and 
 forthwith they begin anew to flirt with fate. And with 
 that he put on his hat and walked out of his room. 
 
 He could not believe that it was entirely chance that 
 made the inevitable happen so quickly ; and so in 
 spite of himself, in spite of his new resolve, his per- 
 plexity and suspicion suddenly returned. 
 
 Here is what had happened. He had dashed down- 
 stairs, using the staircase because motion suited his 
 mood, and at once in the hall, sitting in a chair several 
 sizes too large for her, and busily adjusting a white 
 
 48 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 49 
 
 veil with feminine unconcern, he had suddenly spied 
 the girl of the day before. It was just as if she were 
 sitting there waiting for him. 
 
 Instinctively, he had paused, overcome, as we have 
 said, by his former doubts. In the foreground, in the 
 middle distance, even in the far background of the 
 great hotel hall, he saw that many interested pairs 
 of eyes followed every movement of the long, graceful 
 arms, which seemed to twine themselves round the 
 head in an instinctive embrace, and which lingered 
 here and there as in a posture dance. She had evi- 
 dently been used to being observed in this manner, he 
 said to himself, nearly all her short life ; it no doubt 
 acutely amused her to be so closely studied. For he 
 was old enough and travelled enough to know that in 
 the great foreign world which we have vaguely bap- 
 tized the Continent woman is looked upon more as 
 a work of art than a work of Nature, and is therefore 
 treated as such. 
 
 As he hesitated, he unwillingly overheard a com- 
 ment or two of the polyglot world, and internally he 
 writhed. 
 
 " She is growing more beautiful every day," an- 
 nounced one worthy, gazing at her hungrily. " Look 
 at her long, graceful lines, the colour of her skin, her 
 eyes." 
 
 His companion shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I have not heard of anybody being successful — 
 she is as cold as ice." 
 
 Then Faulconbridge, curiously irritated, had moved 
 quickly on. Could he have seen behind him, he would 
 have noted an ironical smile hovering round the lips 
 of the first speaker, whilst his eyes retained their in- 
 tense expression. For it was precisely at this moment 
 
 4 
 
50 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 that the girl saw the man she had been so patiently 
 waiting for pass by, and as he did so, mechanically 
 raise his hat. 
 
 " Good morning," she said demurely enough— that 
 is, as demurely as possible, seeing that she had the end 
 of a hatpin still in her mouth. 
 
 As he paused in his progress he noticed that she 
 had glanced at him quickly ; then, just as quickly, she 
 had dropped her eyes. 
 
 " Good morning," he echoed, with iron determina- 
 tion not to be cordial. 
 
 He did not move on, however, as undoubtedly he 
 should have done — had his reserve been genuine — had 
 his defence been impregnable ; the truth to tell, wild 
 horses could not have dragged him on— just then. 
 For once again he was absorbed in studying her striking 
 face — noting what he had noted before only to wonder 
 anew. To-day the resemblance seemed more startling 
 than ever ; it was not only in her features, but in her 
 mannerisms as well ; indeed, the startling resemblance 
 was everywhere. As she sat with her head poised 
 forward, her long eyelashes covering her eyes, he could 
 almost have sworn that a miracle had taken place, 
 and that this was one and the same woman. 
 
 " You are very late this morning," she remarked, 
 suddenly getting the better of her veil, and looking 
 up at him with her grave, sweet eyes. Her manner 
 had in it the vague yet intimate solicitude of an in- 
 terested friend. " What have you been doing ? ' 
 
 " Packing." 
 
 The word had fallen from his lips a little ruthlessly, 
 now he took pleasure in noting its effect. 
 
 " Packing ! You are going away ? " 
 
 She spoke too quickly for the guileless role she had 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 51 
 
 assumed ; and now her delicately coloured face seemed 
 suddenly rosy beneath the white veil. Indeed, her 
 long, straight eyebrows were carried up so high in 
 surprise that they almost reached her hair, which to- 
 day was arranged very low on her forehead. As she 
 sat like that, with her lips slightly parted and her 
 hands grasping the arms of the chair, her charm came 
 home to him with added force. 
 
 He shook his head — with silent satisfaction. Then 
 he said more conversationally : 
 
 " No, I am not going away. I was only introducing 
 a little order where there has long been disorder. I 
 was a week in Warsaw — a whole week. What a city ! 
 I do not seem to have gone to bed at all." 
 
 She laughed — showing her relief spontaneously as 
 a child might have done. 
 
 Her laughter was as music in his ears. He was glad 
 he had stopped to talk to her — he realized that some- 
 thing had been wrong for twenty-four complete hours. 
 He thought to himself that he was a fool, of course, 
 but just then he providentially remembered that fools 
 always love their follies. 
 
 Now she drew on her gloves, with swift, easy move- 
 ments. 
 
 " And you are going to look at that old paper ? 
 I have a good mind to say that I want it first again — 
 only that I am going to the Kremlin, to the dear 
 Kremlin, to gaze on all the wonders of the world, to 
 see poetry and romance and history all heaped to- 
 gether, and to enjoy myself hugely. So you see I have 
 really no time to-day to read the gossip of the Bourse." 
 
 She was looking carefully away now — looking to- 
 wards the line of folding glass doors through which 
 came glimpses of the great square bathed in sunlight, 
 
52 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 and the sound of laughter and cries and talking, and 
 the gay rattle of carriage -wheels. It was certainly no 
 day for reading. 
 
 " The Kremlin — that is where I myself proposed 
 going — later." 
 
 He still spoke with a curious, halting note in his 
 voice, as if he could not decide how much he ought 
 to say — as if he owed it to himself to be more cautious 
 than the day before — to hold back before he openly 
 waved the white flag of surrender. 
 
 " Indeed — the Kremlin — who would have thought 
 it ! Do you know any Russian history ? " 
 
 " Not much, I am afraid." 
 
 " Poor man." 
 
 A caressing quality had crept into her voice as she 
 murmured those words — a caressing quality which 
 tickled him much as a feather would have done. He 
 moved uneasily on his feet, and his eyes became 
 brighter. 
 
 " I shall take a guide," he explained, trying to be 
 matter-of-fact, " a guide, of all creatures in the world. 
 It will be delightful — very delightful, I can well imagine, 
 since I know the breed from Seville to Buda-Pesth. 
 The fellow will, of course, tell me everything more or 
 less wrong ; and hurry me when I want to loiter ; and 
 make me loiter when I wish to hurry. And at the 
 very end he is sure to whisper to me how poor he is, 
 and how hard it is to feed his many children. How 
 prolific must be the race of guides if a quarter of what 
 they claim is true ! " 
 
 As he ended mechanically he turned and looked 
 for the men who had pestered him the day before ; 
 to-day there was not a single one to be seen. Then, as 
 he looked back, he saw her make a sudden movement 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 53 
 
 and unearth from the depths of the arm-chair a small 
 brown-paper parcel, which she rapidly undid. Now 
 she held it up with a swift gesture. 
 
 " I have a book. Look at it — is it not a pretty 
 book, with pictures in it, and beautiful descriptions in 
 French. Do you know French as well as you know 
 German ? It is rather rare for an Englishman to know 
 anything at all — I mean in the way of languages. Are 
 you angry again ? Well, you see, I am going without 
 a guide, and so I shall be able to read my book as I 
 walk along — alone." 
 
 " Alone ? " 
 
 She looked up as if in surprise as he repeated the 
 word. He had drawn nearer so that the people near 
 by should no longer overhear them ; and now as he 
 stood immediately over her he looked somewhat big, 
 whilst she looked very slender and young. 
 
 " Why not alone ? " she echoed. "I am so often — 
 alone." 
 
 She sighed, and began beating a pensive little tattoo 
 on the ground with her foot. Perhaps it was because 
 the attitude suited her so well that the silence re- 
 mained so long unbroken. 
 
 " Can I come with you ? " said Faulconbridge, 
 surrendering unexpectedly. There was a smile on his 
 frank face which suited him well, and suddenly his 
 whole manner became different. 
 
 The girl gave a little exclamation of real surprise. 
 Her attitude was no longer nonchalant : perhaps the 
 climax had come almost too easily. 
 
 " Can you come with me?" she repeated won- 
 deringly, arching her eyebrows. " Can you come with 
 me ? " she said again. " Now, how did you ever think 
 of that ? " 
 
54 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 She looked at him deeply, searchingly — as if seeking 
 for something which they had not yet approached in 
 any of their talk. A little mockery still lingered in her 
 eyes, but it was only a vestige. Indeed, a new con- 
 cern — a new intentness — was written on her features, 
 in her manner. It was both curious and arresting. 
 
 Faulconbridge, as he stood there for an instant, 
 caught something of the change ; carefully noted it, 
 only promptly to forget it. Just then it was sufficient 
 for him to find her yielding. 
 
 " It was one of those inspirations which even dull 
 men occasionally may have," he replied easily. u You 
 must not expect me to give you a long-winded ex- 
 planation. I do not want to explain anything to-day ; 
 let us take everything for granted." 
 
 " Yes," she cried, suddenly scrambling to her feet, 
 and throwing a jumble of remarks at him in her excite- 
 ment, " I think I shall let you come. It is always well 
 to have a man, even when one imagines he may be in 
 the way ! You see, in the present case, you may even 
 prove useful. If I get tired going up those long, long 
 staircases, you could even carry me. What a sight that 
 would be ; how embarrassed you would be ; what 
 things you would say ! How stupidly I am talking. 
 Come, let us waste no time." 
 
 He was conscious, as they passed down the great hall 
 together, that a buzz of comment accompanied their 
 exit, as if they had been on a high stage and had be- 
 trayed by a single action the keynote of their future 
 play. He was conscious also — but this more vaguely — 
 that in the eyes of all these men and women of this 
 very foreign world there had instinctively crept both 
 a gluttonous and a commiserating look — an odd mix- 
 ture of conflicting emotions. It was as if they could 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 55 
 
 tell him much if they cared to speak, but that nothing 
 would ever grant him their confidence. 
 
 It was a curious feeling— a feeling he had never 
 had before. He could not tell what it was that made 
 him believe that he was destined to encounter some- 
 thing great in the matter of surprises ; something new 
 and yet something very old. He was a fool, no doubt. 
 Of course he was that. Yet that thought gave him 
 no concern— it merely brought with it a feeling of 
 satisfaction, of tingling anticipation. 
 
 As they stood expectantly at the entrance, a driver, 
 seeing them there, at once drove up his handsome 
 horses. A word was spoken ; he touched his hat and 
 smiled. Then, almost before they were seated, they 
 had started off at breakneck speed. 
 
 To Faulconbridge that rapid progress became sym- 
 bolical of the future. 
 
VI 
 
 HE liked to carry in his head a confused rather 
 than an accurate memory of that long, 
 astounding morning ; to see in his mind's 
 eye a suggestion of it all rather than distinct and 
 definite pictures. He had gone to amuse himself — 
 perhaps to flirt — and had come away for ever enchanted 
 with the great, mysterious, magic, splendid Kremlin. 
 He forgot the sequence of the endless romantic 
 marvels they gazed upon just as he forgot many of 
 the important details. He only remembered, as in 
 a vague and distant vision, the pink embattled walls 
 with which the Tartars had encircled this their citadel ; 
 the enormous barren squares within where a myriad 
 tents must once have been pitched ; the glitter and 
 incense of churches and chapels and their marvellous 
 and fantastic architecture ; the wondrous precious 
 stones in the golden crowns and highly coloured robes 
 of the Czars and Czarinas ; the many jewelled swords ; 
 the display of medieval weapons and battle-torn flags 
 — the prowess of Pultowa enshrined side by side with 
 the spoil of the Khanates. There were rooms full 
 of these things — endless rooms — scores of rooms. 
 
 It was all wonderful and fascinating. He gazed, 
 hardly ever speaking, on the enormous painted sledges 
 of Catherine the Great, which w T ere drawn through 
 the snow with the swiftness of the wind by thirty-six 
 galloping horses, and in which that second Cleopatra 
 
 56 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 57 
 
 had voluptuously reclined together with her lovers. 
 Near by— as if in illustration of that— stood the price- 
 less presents of Louis the Fourteenth from the Sevres 
 factories, with their sensuous pictures of x\rcadian 
 loves, their more than voluptuous imagery. Then, 
 perhaps, would be the battered drums of Plevna and 
 a scimitar of Suleiman the Magnificent. History, 
 indeed, was heaped here carelessly and yet marvel- 
 lously—did not the bed and boots of the implacable 
 Napoleon rest by the side of the gore-eaten spear of 
 Ivan the Terrible ; the praying-carpet of a lineal 
 descendant of the Prophet, taken from some disrupted 
 pashalic, hang on the wall beside the bows and arrows 
 of the ancient Scythians ? 
 
 He came on presents which good Queen Bess — that 
 sportive virgin — had sent over the seas to the bar- 
 baric state of Muscovy in her efforts to extend the 
 English influence ; and then he stood amazed before 
 the jewelled phantasies which the turbaned rulers of 
 Stamboul had donated to their greatest rivals in the 
 rare truces which marked their eternal warfare. Then, 
 as if to show how nearly related all this was to the 
 present — how only the accident of years divided it off 
 from the life of to-day— they passed into vast modern 
 ballrooms, lately erected for the festivities attendant 
 on the coronation of the Czars, overlooking the very 
 square where Peter the Great had slaughtered the 
 Streltzi. 
 
 The piled cannon of the Grand Army in the great 
 entrance square took new meaning after that — no 
 wonder the nation had raised a vast and glorious 
 church, filled with jewelled saints, to the memory of 
 the Napoleonic defeat. Muscovy was something more 
 than a holy state— it was a continent, a world, a 
 
58 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 universe of its own, on which no marauding hand could 
 possibly be laid. 
 
 He found to his surprise that the memory of the great 
 Corsican adventurer was everywhere ; that for these 
 simple-souled Russians the immortal conqueror who 
 had set his hand rudely on all these treasures had been 
 inexorably swept into bottomless ruin by a just and 
 ever-resurgent Czarism. The great square in which 
 the captured cannon of his broken armies were piled — 
 piece upon piece — that alone was a more eloquent 
 summary of the history of a marvellous era than a 
 hundred printed volumes. What a summary in- 
 deed ! 
 
 He found, as he slowly wandered along, on the 
 breeches of these ancient guns, the arms and titles of 
 all the Princes of Europe — those obedient Princes who 
 had done homage at Dresden and then sent their 
 doomed legions across the Beresina. The Kings of 
 Saxony, Bavaria, Prussia, Wurtemberg, Spain, Portu- 
 gal, Holland, Sweden ; the Grand-Dukes of Poland and 
 Parma ; Eugene, Viceroy of Italy ; a dozen Field- 
 Marshals who were Princes of the Empire — all these, 
 and many more, had left their guns behind them. To 
 see that great silent array of bronze and iron was to 
 behold as in a flash of lightning the terrible snow- 
 covered wastes whereon had perished half a million 
 gallant souls. And, presiding over these — placed at 
 the head of the square, with its monstrous cannon- 
 balls beside it — was the " Czar Pouschka," the king 
 of cannons — an immense Russian bronze gun, fit for 
 Gargantua to have played with, the proved master of 
 all these captives ! 
 
 Yes, yes, the Kremlin was great — it was the Russian 
 epic. The barbarism and strength of it all ; it was 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 59 
 
 the two extremes of Asia drawn together and en- 
 shrined in the heart of Slavism. The marauding spirit 
 of Mongol conquerors, mixed with the sensuality of 
 Byzantine Orientalism, seemed, indeed, to be rising 
 like a thick and confusing incense from within these 
 pink Tartar walls and penetrated to the very inmost 
 recesses of the churches. It proclaimed itself a con- 
 glomerate, a compound, a concoction, a conglutination, 
 which nobody had ever rightly analysed— which 
 nobody was capable of analysing. It rilled the air — 
 it was more than symbolical of the nation, it was the 
 nation itself. Then— swinging round and envisaging 
 it from another point of view — it seemed to him like 
 the god of battles and the God of Prayer explained 
 as one and the same conception — a God worshipped 
 on a half -overturned altar of Moloch. 
 
 It was certainly that— though the definition might 
 seem fantastic, the terms contradictory. From the 
 moment they had stood before the little chapelle 
 ardente, planted in the middle of the road before the 
 main Kremlin gateway, where priest and pauper, 
 general and private soldier, widow and bride, with 
 bowed head and reverent manner, bought candles and 
 lighted them to the glory of the Virgin within— from 
 that very first moment this phantasmagoria of con- 
 trasts, this confusion of terms, this medley of medleys, 
 had commenced. 
 
 A line of motionless and heavy-jowled nuns, clad 
 in dingy black, had stood at the chapel doors. Their 
 feet were encased in heavy men's boots ; they had 
 taken their stand on a piece of rough boarding so that 
 this day-long task should not strike the cold through 
 to their marrows. Their collection-boxes rang with 
 the stream of coins pitched in, the dissolute and the 
 
60 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 devout vying with one another in the matter of 
 generosity. But it was not so much these things in 
 themselves which struck at the mind of the stranger ; 
 it was rather what they stood for, what had produced 
 them in the past, what would continue to produce 
 them in the future to the very end of the chapter. . . . 
 That line of motionless and heavy- jowled nuns, clad 
 in dingy black, was something more than a weeping 
 charity. In the resigned and melancholy aspect of these 
 women was the story of another Russia — the great 
 Russia of the common herd that mutely suffers and 
 speaks no complaints, the poor beast Russia that is 
 led to the slaughter-house and yet does its duty with 
 the bravery of bulls. To pass after that sight under 
 the famous Red Gate, where every living man must 
 doff his hat, was to be fitly prepared for a view 
 of that over-dominion of the crowned and sacred 
 rulers exhibited in the many relics of half-forgotten 
 times. . . . 
 
 The people streaming through these palaces became 
 invested with a new and special significance. The 
 more Faulconbridge studied them, the deeper did his 
 interest and his surprise become. He had the feeling 
 once more — just as he had had on the morning of his 
 arrival — that he had been the victim of a conspiracy 
 of misrepresentation difficult to define. 
 
 There was every kind of person ; all possible classes 
 in all possible dresses — a variety such as can no longer 
 be found where the donning of black cloth has given 
 a soul-deadening outer similarity to a highly variegated 
 world. It seemed to him here that a whole nation was 
 defiling before him ; a nation surveying its history 
 with awe ; a nation yet in the making. Each page 
 of that history lay open here, so clearly written that 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 61 
 
 even the unlettered could read the past and go away 
 and dream of what the future might bring. 
 
 A party of blue-eyed, yellow-haired infantrymen 
 pausing in front of some chain-armour at last caught 
 his wondering eyes. One of them had laughingly 
 lifted up a great-coat of mail, and the girl translated 
 his remarks. 
 
 " They fought heavy," the soldier had exclaimed, 
 with a dubious shake of his curly head, to the amuse- 
 ment of all around ; " we could not fight so heavy 
 now — yet we can crush just as hard." 
 
 It was not strange that he almost forgot the girl 
 beside him ; he walked along slowly, all eyes and ears, 
 looking and listening — drinking in the strangeness and 
 the newness of it all — utterly absorbed. He was 
 vaguely conscious that once or twice she had gazed 
 at him curiously, as if wondering at his mood, but she, 
 too, remained silent, save when she interjected an 
 explanation or a comment. 
 
 Only when they had finished with the palaces and 
 the museums and the churches did they begin to 
 talk ; and then their conversation speedily proved as 
 curious as the rest had been. Afterwards he was not 
 sure whether she had been really serious — perhaps her 
 risibilities had been merely seeking a new outlet. 
 
 "Have you enjoyed it ? " she asked as they came 
 into the open. 
 
 " I have never liked anything better in my life," 
 he answered, more seriously than he generally spoke. 
 
 "I am glad that you have liked it," was her quick 
 comment. Then she stopped speaking. 
 
 He saw that she was deep in some reverie which 
 lent to her girlish face a new and stranger charm. The 
 guide-book, which she had so extolled, lay forgotten 
 
62 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 in her hand, as indeed it had lain since they had 
 entered these enchanted grounds. Thrown against 
 this great background — against these monstrous 
 palaces and mighty churches — she appeared different, 
 more sober, more mature. 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. The coquetry with 
 which she had greeted him in the early morning had, 
 indeed, most completely vanished ; and in its place 
 had come something which he could not so easily 
 define. There was a change — yes, there was a change ; 
 though the curve of her cheek was as delicious as ever, 
 it seemed to him to be no longer so soft. Some curious 
 thought had hardened it momentarily — even the mole 
 on her cheek seemed now to stand out defiantly, as if 
 challenging any tender thoughts. Her walk had in- 
 stinctively caught something of this other attitude ; 
 now her feet showed no desire to hasten ; they even 
 seemed to drag. 
 
 " We are coming to the last thing of all," she re- 
 marked at length, with a quick glance at him as if to 
 disturb his study of her. " This is the old palace — the 
 old medieval palace of Ivan the Terrible. It is full of 
 romance, full of history — but it is all harsher, thrown 
 as it were in another key. We can stand on the very 
 spot where Napoleon watched the burning of Moscow, 
 where my guide-book, in a tragic phrase, says that 
 his life's ambition went up in flames. Did you see his 
 telescope in the museum — the one he used during 
 many anxious days on this very spot ? Those who 
 know say it is not the true one — that he carried his off. 
 Is it often like that in museums, the copy standing for 
 the original ? " 
 
 He made some vague reply, still following the thread 
 of other thoughts. He wondered what she was and 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 63 
 
 who she was ; should he muster up courage to ask her 
 frankly ? 
 
 She had commenced moving along more briskly. 
 Now she walked as a Spanish woman walks, with 
 that graceful swing of the hips, that inimitable manner 
 which is something more than an expression of race 
 and is perhaps a creed. She continued : 
 
 " Do you know that the only woman who was ever 
 faithful to Napoleon was a Pole ? They weep over 
 Josephine in the sentimental history books, but 
 Josephine always took care to console herself ! Polish 
 women are wonderful women — do you know that even 
 to-day they are conquering Prussia by marrying the 
 men ? Nobody in the world knows how to make love 
 like a Polish woman — not even Hungarians." She 
 hesitated for a moment. "lama Pole," she added 
 softly. 
 
 " A Pole," he exclaimed, " then I understand you 
 better ! I was in Warsaw a whole week — a week which 
 seemed but as a day." 
 
 " Did you fall in love ? " she inquired abruptly, 
 looking at him in an odd, suspicious way. " Tell me 
 truly ; though if you answer ' yes,' I shall probably 
 hate you." 
 
 " And if I do not answer at all," he rejoined, much 
 amused. 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Then perhaps I shall suspect " 
 
 " A tragedy ? " 
 
 " No — a comedy." 
 
 " Which would be the more amusing to you ? ' 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " I could not possibly say until I heard all the 
 details." 
 
64 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " I think I shall remain silent," he returned. 
 
 "It is perhaps wisest," she opined, nodding her 
 head. " What is your name ? I have even forgotten 
 to ask you that." 
 
 " What a trivial question in these serious surround- 
 ings ! " Then he told her. ..." It is Richard Faul- 
 conbridge." 
 
 " Richard Faulconbridge," she repeated slowly, 
 giving an oddly foreign intonation to the words. 
 " Richard Faulconbridge," she said again ; ' I seem 
 to have heard it before. Richard," she spoke musingly, 
 " you are called Richard by your friends ? ' 
 
 " No— Dick." 
 
 Suddenly she stopped in her walk as if a shot had 
 been fired. 
 
 " Dick," she burst out laughing. " What a stupid 
 name — for a big man. Oh, why do they call you 
 Dick ? It is so ugly, like Tom and Bill and Bob and 
 Jack. Why do you let them do that ? " 
 
 She laid a friendly hand upon his sleeve and looked 
 pleadingly into his face. 
 
 He smiled at her ingenuousness ; at her utter lack 
 of conventionality. 
 
 "lam sorry — but not many people use it. You can 
 forget it if it is so very odious." He paused, and then 
 went on in a more serious way. " And what do people 
 call you ? " 
 
 " You can call me Sasha, if you like," she said slowly ; 
 " everybody calls me Sasha, you know — behind my 
 
 back." 
 
 " Sasha ? That is a contraction — an abbreviation, 
 is it not ? " He looked puzzled. 
 
 « Yes — an abbreviation for Alexandra — a name 
 almost as common with us as Mary is with you. But 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 65 
 
 we do not use names as you do in England, the 
 Christian names are commonly used ; for instance, 
 
 with me " She stopped and thought for a moment. 
 
 "It is of no importance — you could call me Sasha if 
 there were any occasion for it, though I have several 
 other names." 
 
 " Several ? " His tone had become more puzzled. 
 
 " Yes — for professional reasons. I sing songs, you 
 know, for a living, though I have not always done 
 so " 
 
 " After hearing you I wish you always did." 
 
 " Now you seek to flatter me — never do that. You 
 
 may not believe me, but I do not like it " She 
 
 hesitated and went on in a slightly changed manner : 
 " I call myself Alexandra Alexandre) vna Salvatini — 
 that is my stage name — I mean Salvatini. Is it not 
 awful ? I think I chose it because it was so hideous. 
 Do you like Italians ? " 
 
 He smiled diplomatically. 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 " I don't think I do ! They always tell me the same 
 thing. They say : ' Signorina, you are the most 
 beautiful child in the world ; I am dying with love for 
 you.' As if anybody in the world ever died of love ! 
 Yet fifty have said it, and live to repeat it to 
 others." 
 
 " You must be used to it by now," he suggested. 
 
 " The sensation is in any case unpleasant," she re- 
 turned. " I would much sooner have had the fifty say, 
 ' I hate you.' That is infinitely more masculine. I 
 think I would like a man who hated me, honestly. 
 Besides, being loved by a multitude only appeals to 
 special minds." She brought the conversation back 
 to their surroundings and pointed ahead. " Do you 
 
 5 
 
66 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 mind climbing steps ? We have to go up a very narrow 
 staircase. Let me speak to this man." 
 
 She approached a custodian and exchanged some 
 rapid remarks with him. Without waste of time the 
 man led them forward. As she gathered up her skirts 
 in her hands she said : 
 
 " Now I am going to translate to you every word 
 he says. Be attentive, for he is certain to talk 
 fast." 
 
 They were soon buried in the rude medievalism of 
 the old palace of the Czars — a palace resembling a 
 rough feudal baron's castle rather than an emperor's 
 residence. After the bright sunshine and the sweet 
 air without, the contrast was sharp and severe. The 
 strange rooms, indeed, were redolent of an age when 
 man still conceived his home as a mere place of refuge 
 from the inclemencies of the weather ; there was 
 nothing good about this palace ; in it, indeed, there 
 lurked the gloomy suggestion of foul deeds. The 
 narrow barred windows, the small yet massive doors, 
 the lack of air — all contributed to arousing a feeling 
 of uneasiness, of revolt against an age that was mainly 
 cruel. 
 
 And yet there was romance, a new kind of romance, 
 a strange and fearful romance. Who could look with- 
 out an involuntary shiver of fear on the narrow stair- 
 case which Ivan the Terrible daily descended, his 
 great bunch of keys tied to his girdle, his mad gleam- 
 ing eyes seeking for victims, his cruel iron-pronged 
 staff ever ready in his bony hands. ... Each morn- 
 ing's descent meant execution for some luckless 
 wretches and torture for others. At any moment, too, 
 that cruel iron-pronged staff, as has been wonderfully 
 pictured, might be plunged into the foot of the highest 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 67 
 
 boyar of the land as he stood in front of his imperial 
 master tremblingly answering his questions. 
 
 Soon they had entered the old hall of audience, 
 hung with tarnished embroideries — that strange audi- 
 ence hall on which the women-folk of the palace 
 looked down from hidden galleries as in Eastern land. 
 It was all redolent of forgotten times ; it all spoke 
 of a history saturated with revolt and bloody happen- 
 ings. No wonder that when Napoleon had come hither 
 it was only to be crushed. 
 
 And then they passed into the very room in which 
 the world's greatest adventurer had actually lived. 
 And then they looked upon the narrow, garret-like 
 bed on which he had slept ; the table on which he had 
 written during the restless hours of his sojourn ; the 
 chairs in which he had sat. . . . And at last they went 
 out on to the parapeted roof where he had so endlessly 
 stood, watching the burning of Moscow. From this 
 coign of vantage, with these memories saturating their 
 minds, the vast distances, the gilded cupolas, the. 
 embattled walls, became symbolic of the greatest 
 defeat the world has ever known. 
 
 "It is wonderful," murmured Faulconbridge. 
 
 She was now standing with her chin pressed against 
 the parapet and her eyes fixed on the cobblestones of 
 the squares which lay so far beneath them. She did 
 not show that she had heard him, for she did not 
 move. She was, indeed, so absorbed in her contempla- 
 tion that she had forgotten where she was, forgotten 
 the man at her side, forgotten everything. There was a 
 curious, tense look about her face as she gazed over the 
 great city — a look which said that she was looking 
 beyond, looking at something which nobody but she 
 could see. 
 
68 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 At last, with one of her abrupt, quick movements, 
 she had turned towards him. 
 
 " Yes — it is wonderful ; of course, it is wonderful. 
 It speaks to me, too, in many ways. . . . And yet these 
 abstractions do not interest me just now. No — I 
 would like something else — something with a flavour 
 less severe." She paused again. " I wish to goodness 
 I were in love with 'someone," she murmured wist- 
 fully, leaning her elbows again on the parapet and 
 staring into space. " How romantic that would be 
 for you, for instance, here alone with me overlooking 
 the whole world ! We could then make eternal vows 
 to one another — to be broken as soon as we were out 
 of sight. You would tell me marvellous things, and 
 I would listen to you, believing every word you said." 
 
 He laughed — amused at her inconsequential manner 
 and her change of moods. 
 
 " That would be a lot of good to you, wouldn't it," 
 he replied lightly. 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 " I don't know, but I dare say you wouldn't be a 
 scrap in love with me, even if you followed out what 
 I have suggested. I should shock you every minute. 
 You are surprised by lots of things I do — I can see 
 it in your eyes. You expect things to go so and so, 
 and instead of that they progress in precisely the 
 opposite direction. I know you so well — I was at 
 school in England — that is where I learnt my English. 
 Do you think I talk well ? Oh, dear. Fancy your 
 being in love with me ! It is really amusing. Your 
 ideal is the sort of woman who has never thought about 
 men as — well, as I have. She would be very beautiful, 
 I have no doubt, but she could not possibly resemble 
 me. She would be as cold as the snows, or perhaps 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 69 
 
 I should say cold as marble. She would be taller, 
 rather thin, and always calm. She would think Dick 
 a beautiful name, and would talk to you about the 
 noble things you must accomplish during a long and 
 hard-working life 1 What rubbish I am talking. How 
 many times have you been in love ? " 
 
 " Never," he said abruptly, looking away so that 
 she should not see his eyes. 
 
 " Really ? I don't believe you. I am sure there 
 is some woman. You were not quick enough, you see, 
 with your answer. You paused, you know, for just 
 the veriest fraction of a second. You see I am quick — 
 very quick ! You cannot deceive me. Well — what 
 does it matter if there have been a dozen, so long as it 
 has given you pleasure." 
 
 Perhaps her laughter irritated him ; for now with 
 sudden brusquerie he turned. 
 
 " Have you seen enough of the view," he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Enough of the view ? Yes — I hate views to-day, 
 just as I hate Ivan the Terrible and all his race of 
 tyrants." She spoke with growing intensity. " Do 
 you know the brute killed his own son with that fearful 
 spear-stick of his I was telling you about ? You can 
 see a wonderful picture of it if you like. The Russians 
 are at heart fearful savages — not at all like the Poles, 
 whom they hate and suspect. W r hat madness for 
 Napoleon to have come here among these men who are 
 nothing but savages. ..." She stopped, and her 
 voice changed. " Yes, I am ready — let us go." 
 
 They had no more conversation, but his thoughts 
 gave him ample employment. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said to him at the Kremlin gates, 
 looking suddenly at her watch. " It has been a beaut i- 
 
70 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 ful outing— quite novel in every way. Good-bye — I 
 have an appointment, and, as usual, I shall be late." 
 
 She had gone before he had time to say anything 
 further to her ; and once again he stood biting his 
 lips because of his stupidity, and his curious lack of 
 success. 
 
VII 
 
 THAT same evening, when he was least thinking 
 of any such possibility, when the glamour of 
 the morning lay momentarily obscured in his 
 mind, he met her again. It soon proved as curious a 
 rencounter as the others had been : it served not only 
 to increase his curiosity, and to intensify a certain 
 feeling of resentment against the mystery of her man- 
 ner, but to make him more subject to her charm than 
 he had ever been before. 
 
 He had gone out in the cool, and had wandered so 
 far away lost in thought that on his way back he had 
 taken wrong turning after wrong turning. It was in 
 vain that he had tried to find his bearings ; he took 
 this turning and that turning, only to become more and 
 more confused. Yet unwilling to confess himself fairly 
 beaten by the maze of unfamiliar streets, by the worse 
 than unfamiliar names, he had gone twisting and turn- 
 ing until he had become really tired. Then, at last, 
 just as he was about to give up hope and hail a driver, 
 he had suddenly recognized her. She was dressed in 
 a dark, close-fitting costume, and was hurrying along 
 with her eyes cast down as if totally indifferent to 
 what was passing around her. 
 
 " How wonderful ! " he exclaimed in real surprise, 
 greeting her as he would have done an old friend. "What 
 happy chance has sent you to the rescue ? Think of 
 it : I had lost my way utterly and absolutely, when this 
 
 71 
 
72 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 miracle happened and I saw you ! I seem to have been 
 wandering for hours and hours — I was about to admit 
 that never again would I trust myself alone so far 
 afield, at least, without a map. . . . Now suddenly I 
 feel that Moscow is the smallest town in the world 
 since all roads lead to you. . . . Whether you wish 
 it or not, humanity must make you once again be my 
 guide, philosopher, and friend — if only for a few 
 minutes ! " 
 
 He noticed that she had stopped with a great start 
 of surprise at the first sound of his voice. Then she 
 had listened to what he had said, staring at him 
 curiously, more as if she were persuading herself back 
 to the realities of life than really arrested by his words. 
 Now, as he concluded, she summoned up a light 
 laugh. 
 
 " Who would have expected to find you here ? " 
 she exclaimed. " I confess you startled me. This is 
 the very last place of all I expected to meet you again 
 — in the streets ! And to think that you should have 
 lost your way. Surely you are not serious — there is 
 the cathedral over there — you can see the great dome 
 clearly. Every child knows it. Bat I am forgetting — 
 you are less than a child — an unfortunate stranger." 
 
 He made a movement of acquiescence, and com- 
 pleted her sentence for her : 
 
 " Who is nevertheless to have the singular good 
 fortune to be guided to a haven of rest by an evening 
 star. ..." Saying which he laughed very quietly. 
 
 Though his manner was merely polite, now she 
 seemed to see beneath it something more than 
 that. 
 
 " Is that what you think ? " she inquired gravely 
 and slowly. " Is that what you think ? " she repeated 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 73 
 
 still more wonderingly, as she considered what he 
 had said. " Who has been teaching you how to pay 
 compliments since last we met ? " 
 
 He was suddenly conscious that she was looking at 
 him in a very new way — as if a new set of circum- 
 stances had given her a new angle of view. He was 
 not sure that it was to his disadvantage — indeed, he 
 believed that somehow he had made up for all past 
 defeats and awkwardnesses. 
 
 " Are you going to be good ? " he said, keeping to 
 the main point, and refusing to be led aside. He 
 studied her for a moment, as if her face would tell. 
 " Yes, I am sure you will. I have told you what you 
 must be. It is so simple. Listen. I know you to be 
 a philosopher — to be a guide will be no great under- 
 taking, unless you are really in a hurry and have 
 something else to do. So, you see, there only remains 
 the question of friendship." 
 
 " Ah," she exclaimed vaguely. " Friendship— the 
 question of friendship — you English are always speak- 
 ing of that ! Friendship — how much and how little 
 it may mean." 
 
 She gave a sharp gesture as if to brush the question 
 aside. It was plain to him that her fit of abstraction 
 was returning. 
 
 " Of course," he went on more nonchalantly, accept- 
 ing her mood, and becoming less persistent, " I may 
 be in your way ; tell me if I am, and I shall pester 
 you no longer." He paused and resumed as if in self- 
 pity. " And yet I feel just now, I honestly confess, 
 that even if you said good-bye, and tried to drive me 
 off, I should follow you very much like some poor lost 
 dog ! " 
 
 They had been walking slowly side by side ; now 
 
74 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 half laughingly, half seriously, he stopped and looked 
 at her inquiringly. 
 
 " My business can wait," she said, a little hesitat- 
 ingly. " I was only walking fast because . . . Well, 
 I can tell you, though you may not believe it. ... I 
 was running away — yes, running . . . from some- 
 thing which frightened me very much." 
 
 She had spoken in curious broken sentences — almost 
 in gasps. As she concluded, he suddenly realized 
 anew, as he was so constantly doing, that in spite of 
 her manner, in spite of all her worldly wisdom, she 
 was very young. 
 
 " You were running away from something which 
 greatly frightened you," he repeated wonderingly, not 
 knowing exactly what to say ; " running away — here 
 in these safe streets ? " 
 
 Again he noticed that her hand signalled a nervous 
 protest ; it was as if the galvanic battery of her 
 thoughts had given her another shock. 
 
 " Safe streets ! Well, perhaps — who knows ? In 
 this world everything is equally possible or impossible, 
 as we so constantly discover from time to time. . . . 
 In any case, I was running away." 
 
 Once more she had stopped — abruptly. 
 
 " From whom, may I inquire ? ' he said, with 
 sudden gravity, determined to pierce this latest 
 mystery. 
 
 She looked straight in front of her ; then, in not 
 much more than a whisper, she exclaimed : 
 
 " From . . . my thoughts." 
 
 " Your thoughts," he echoed, now doubly surprised. 
 
 He walked in silence for some little time, not press- 
 ing on her any foolish commiseration, not venturing 
 any trifling remarks. Only after some minutes did he 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 75 
 
 add, very softly so it seemed to her : "I have known 
 that too/' 
 
 Immediately he was conscious that she was glancing 
 stealthily at his face with increased friendliness ; he 
 felt that she was turning something over in her mind 
 — a question perhaps, or was it a word of confession ? 
 He wondered what it could be which was making her 
 act to-night so doubly strangely ; he began to think 
 that at last she might give him a clue. Then, before 
 he could get any farther in his bewildered reasoning, 
 he was conscious that she had laid a light hand on his 
 sleeve and was claiming his attention. 
 
 Now she spoke quickly and almost defiantly — as if 
 already she were sorry for a passing fit of weakness. 
 
 " So you have known that too ! To think that a 
 man, a great big man, should also be conquered by 
 something so vague, so intangible, so ridiculous, so 
 fleeting, so small as— thoughts ! Is it not wonderfully 
 strange that we all should hold within ourselves that 
 which gives such unmeasured happiness, such untold 
 grief, such distress ; that we should have no weapons 
 to fight against this demon, this dragon, this hideous 
 monster ? Am I not eloquent ? And yet, though I 
 talk so glibly, I don't understand it at all. Indeed, 
 I am most horribly ignorant— I am purely animal. I 
 feel, but I cannot explain. Perhaps . . . perhaps 
 you have some comforting theory. Won't you tell 
 
 me ? 
 
 " No," he said pessimistically, refusing to commit 
 himself. " If I told you what I thought of my own 
 thoughts — or why they came to me — it would hardly 
 make you smile. Indeed, I think you might be in- 
 clined to be more hard on me than you have been at 
 times — already." 
 
76 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 Her sweet profile was turned up towards him, the 
 eyebrows raised. 
 
 " Hard on you," she exclaimed wonderingly, pick- 
 ing up the reproach and forgetting the rest. " Oh ! 
 that is not kind — especially just now ! Think of it ; 
 I took all the trouble to go with you to the Kremlin, 
 to explain all the things ; to teach you, to make you 
 enjoy it all — just because I knew you were a helpless 
 stranger. That is what I have done ! Was that hard 
 on you ? How can you say such things ? ,: She stopped. 
 "Ah," she said more slowly, in a different voice, "I 
 never thought of that — you see, I am rather simple 
 at times, especially when I am thoughtless. But now 
 when I do that awful thing — when I carefully think 
 — it becomes evident to me that you must have an odd 
 opinion of it all — and especially of my mannerisms. 
 Yes, I remember I talked absurdly. I let my tongue 
 run on because it was so amusing to speak English 
 again — that English which I have always known well 
 and talked so little lately. But you, of course, had 
 a different point of view. ... I doubt if you could 
 have understood it at all. Oh, no ! Of course not. 
 I am quite sure now. . . . Dear me, how strange to 
 look at things from the other side — especially from 
 the very beginning. How I laughed that morning at 
 the window. ... I thought I would never stop ! But 
 if you could only have seen your face — just as I saw it, 
 looking up at me blankly — more astonished than any- 
 thing I had seen before, wondering who was the little 
 hussy who sang and laughed at you. It seems weeks 
 ago, and yet it was only the day before yesterday. What 
 has happened to make the time seem so different ? 
 And at your breakfast. ... I was determined to pro- 
 voke you ; to make you so angry — to make you vow 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 77 
 
 terrible things ! I think I succeeded. You can 
 scarcely have thought me — well, donna onesta. . . . 
 And yet I was not really malicious, even at the be- 
 ginning ; I was really only tired, so dreadfully tired 
 of being serious and alone, when I wished to be light- 
 hearted. . . ." 
 
 Again he did not answer at once ; he only noted, 
 as many thoughts coursed through his head, that 
 instead of continuing straight on as she might well 
 have done at the corner of the street, she had instinc- 
 tively turned into the great square where lay the 
 cathedral. In place of the jostling crowds through 
 which they had been threading their way there was 
 now only quiet and peace. It was, indeed, wonderfully 
 quiet and peaceful ; there was not a carriage in the 
 whole great square— not a person moving. It was as 
 if everything had been removed so that they two 
 might be alone and mix their destinies. 
 
 As they slowly advanced he tried to think logically 
 and sanely ; to understand the meaning of her long, 
 rambling, inconsequential speech ; to peer beneath the 
 web of words. Somehow he did not succeed. There 
 was something oddly disturbing to him in her near pre- 
 sence — something which confused his thoughts. Per- 
 haps it was her amazing resemblance — he could not 
 say why. She had said that she was so dreadfully 
 tired of being serious and alone — why— why— and 
 what did that mean ? He confessed himself baffled. 
 This was a curious world. 
 
 Just then he realized that she had begun speaking 
 again. 
 
 " You have become oddly silent," she remarked 
 softly. " Have I said anything wrong again ? I was 
 beginning to think that I had met a much nicer man 
 
78 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 than I took to the Kremlin in the morning, a man who 
 somehow had become more sympathetic, more respon- 
 sive, more willing to believe that unconventionally 
 is no crime — more of a friend to me. . . . A minute 
 ago you had so much to say. X jw ! " 
 
 She spread out her hands in mock disgust, and 
 glanced at him reprovingly. 
 
 " I was thinking over what you had told me in 
 order to discover if there was any real solution," he 
 rejoined. " Listen to my reasoning, though it may 
 sound rather dull. It seems to me quite clear and 
 undisputable, no matter what else may exist, that 
 a woman, and a very young woman at that — does 
 not need to be serious unless she so chooses — that is 
 unalterably plain. Therefore, the matter of remaining 
 alone is only a phantasy, a whim on her part — some- 
 thing added on — a consequence of the first attitude 
 and nothing else. Is not that well argued ? You see, 
 I am talking in the dark — metaphorically as well as 
 physically — and yet I am trying to be logical." 
 
 He smiled at her, but she remained grave. 
 
 " And by that method to account for the female 
 mind ? How innocent, how absurd, how illogical. 
 Yet strangely enough your method has not led you 
 astray. In a word, you are right — absolutely right. 
 I am serious, solemn, dull, worried, eccentric, because 
 I choose to be, and everything else follows from that." 
 
 He stopped in his walk— a little nonplussed— 
 almost exasperated. 
 
 " Well— and why do you then complain ? ' he 
 inquired with English bluntness. "It is hardly con- 
 sistent." 
 
 " Poor man — poor man again ! Are we ever con- 
 sistent when we are really human ? Is it not our very 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 79 
 
 inconsistencies that make us flesh and blood ? Do 
 
 you not see that ? You have called me a philos- 
 opher ; you should have understood that I am some- 
 thing more than the ordinary kind. I am of the 
 sophist 
 
 " You are talking for the sake of talking," he ob- 
 jected ; " talking because your tongue is quick." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " I am talking with a purpose." 
 
 " Which is ? " 
 
 " To try to understand you better." 
 
 Suddenly she began laughing — softly, lightly, in 
 the way which always disturbed him, switching off 
 from solemnness as easily as a bird flits from a tree. 
 She was so much of a woman that the mere thought 
 of her in more melting moods greatly roused him, and 
 made his heart beat a quicker measure. 
 
 Her laughter died away only to break out again 
 in half-suppressed peals — as if the idea that he was 
 trying to unravel her were exquisitely amusing 
 
 " I seem to have cured you, judging by your merri- 
 ment," he ventured at last, a little morosely. From 
 the cathedral, which they were so slowly approaching, 
 came the sound of chanting, deep, muffled, yet in- 
 spiring. 
 
 " No, no," she cried, still struggling with her feel- 
 ings. "It is only amusing because it is all so good, 
 so honest, so straight forward, and therefore so hope- 
 less. ... Oh ! I hate talking to you ! I cannot tell 
 you half of what I want to — a hundred things come to 
 my lips, and I must swallow them down again and leave 
 them unsaid. What are we to do ? Shall I say good- 
 bye ? Shall I punish you by forcing you to go back 
 alone into the black night ? No ! I have it. Let us 
 
80 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 go into that church and listen to the music. It is 
 a Saint's Day — the Metropolitan may be there — you 
 will see something worth seeing. And the singing will 
 be beautiful — you, too, love music. . . . Come, after 
 that we must say good-bye." 
 
 Seized with this new idea, before he had time to 
 answer, she caught him lightly by the hand and hurried 
 him forward. They mounted the broad stone steps 
 in company with some other late-comers, who were 
 talking and laughing loudly to one another as if they 
 were entering a theatre. Then, as they passed in 
 through the half-open doors, the music suddenly 
 burst out in a majestic chant. 
 
 " Listen, listen," he heard her whisper in a voice 
 tremulous with excitement as they squeezed their 
 way forward through the great throng. "It is splen- 
 did, is it not ? The Russian basses are marvellous, 
 unbelievable. I can sit for hours listening to them 
 singing like this — it makes me dream strange dreams." 
 
 In truth, the voices which now chanted the glory 
 of God in slow responses were wonderful voices — 
 voices full of the sullen roar of the sea, or of the dis- 
 tant muttering of great thunder which dies away 
 reluctantly among the little hills. They were massive, 
 deep, tremendous ; in them seemed to be hidden the 
 strength of great multitudes of resistless throngs, press- 
 ing forward blindly, fearlessly, to some unknown goal. 
 Sometimes the voices burst forth in a mighty roar 
 which leaped up to the very dome in one great leap, 
 and then was flung down from there with a crashing 
 fall. At other times the men sang softly — as softly 
 as men who have mighty lungs can sing. Then the 
 echoes of their sweet chanting would steal gently up 
 to the dome and come back as if by stealth — stealing 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 81 
 
 round the great nave sadly seeking for something that 
 was lost, touching the heart as the heart is touched 
 by the shedding of tears. 
 
 There was mystery in this music — vague, discon- 
 certing, intoxicating mystery which filled the mass of 
 listeners with respect and awe. In the great blaze of 
 candles, with the glittering vestments of the clergy, 
 and the pomp of the high altar dominating the scene, 
 the vast congregation kneeling on the cold marble 
 pavement appeared as something more than merely 
 passionately devout. Men and women alike were 
 crossing themselves endlessly — weeping and praying 
 openly and unashamed — sighing to themselves loudly, 
 begging, pleading, almost swooning, and then sud- 
 denly reviving — living proofs that emotionalism and 
 prayer are but sister-names. The intoxicating fumes 
 of the incense floated thicker and thicker in the air — 
 the fuming censers, tossed about by grave boys, 
 became symbolical of the spell with which the atmo- 
 sphere seemed saturated. 
 
 Faulconbridge — erect and motionless — his eyes very 
 bright, his heart still full of other things, drank in the 
 scene as he would have a giant drama. 
 
 The majestic voices rolled on in great waves of sound 
 that beat against the walls and were flung back in 
 resounding echoes. They went on and on — as if they 
 would never cease. There was a fascination in this 
 stentorian praise which conquered him little by little 
 only to find him again revolting. He drew in deep 
 breaths as if to fortify himself against the insidious 
 witchery of this atmosphere, of these voices, of this 
 vast fervour. It seemed to him — in spite of the in- 
 toxication — all suddenly foreign, strange, uncouth, 
 barbaric ; belonging to something which was so alien 
 6 
 
82 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 to him that he could do no more than cross the thresh- 
 old. Who were all these people, these fanatics ? What 
 did they want, expect, and dream of from their 
 rhapsodies ? What strange passions possessed them ? 
 What did it all mean ? He could not say. Yet the 
 revolt that was in him became strengthened, and an 
 expression slowly crept across his features which 
 seemed strangely ironical. This ecstasy repelled him 
 — it showed him a great gulf. . . . 
 
 Now he looked round at his companion. 
 
 Very close to him, almost leaning against him, 
 motionless, breathless, knelt this strange girl. It 
 suddenly seemed to him that she had become more 
 mysterious, more divided from him by impenetrable 
 walls than ever before. He looked at her with grow- 
 ing wonder. At rare intervals he felt her stir ever 
 so slightly, as if the strain were becoming intolerable — 
 as if she herself could not bear to remain so still. Once 
 her lips moved rapidly as if in prayer ; and at that he 
 bent down towards her girlish face. Her eyes, fixed on 
 the ground, were not raised to meet his ; plainly she 
 had forgotten him in the greater emotion of the 
 hour. The minutes passed away slowly and pon- 
 derously, heavy with a meaning which weighed on 
 mind and body alike — crushing the rebellious to 
 obedience. . . . 
 
 Yielding to an impulse, at last he tried to speak — to 
 ask her some question. 
 
 " Hush," she promptly whispered softly, lifting a 
 warning finger to her lips. " Wait." Then she had 
 forgotten him once more. 
 
 He had desisted after that and had tried to give 
 himself up again to a study of the great congregation. 
 But now the unnatural tension around him awoke in 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 83 
 
 him an intense desire to escape into the open air — to 
 breathe a purer atmosphere untainted with something 
 which he recognized as hysterical — which struck 
 wildly at his common sense, which unnerved him 
 and incensed him, and which yet left him cold. 
 
 It became increasingly oppressive — acutely oppres- 
 sive. The air was suffocating — the heat intense. He 
 felt that he could not bear it much longer. His hand, 
 obeying the impulse of his mind, wandered in the 
 gloom until it met her hand. He clasped it, and made 
 an impatient movement as if to go. 
 
 " It is almost over," she breathed in reply ; " wait — 
 one minute only/' 
 
 There was a last great blare, and then immediately 
 the great noise of a shuffling crowd. 
 
 They came out silently into streets that were 
 meaningless for him. The sounds were a vague blur — 
 the traffic a grey smear. Life, indeed, was a pageant 
 of stupid people. 
 
 " Well, have I pleased you this evening ? " she 
 inquired suddenly, looking at him keenly, completely 
 recovered from her earlier mood. " Has it been better 
 than before ? " 
 
 He tried to meet her words with banter ; he tried 
 to hide what he really thought, but he did not quite 
 succeed. 
 
 " It has been better because it has been no worse — 
 which is at best only a negative form of satisfaction." 
 
 " Dear me, how difficult you are to please — what 
 queer fancies you suffer," she exclaimed, openly dis- 
 appointed. " I do not like you at all. In the church 
 I thought you were going to get up and rush out 
 suddenly." 
 
 They talked on in this wise, half seriously, half 
 
84 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 mockingly, until they came to the main thorough- 
 fare. 
 
 " Good night/' she then said, giving him her hand 
 in her sudden, abrupt way. " Go, good man, return 
 straight home. You have only to follow this street — 
 you see ? " 
 
 With a laugh she pulled her palm from between his 
 fingers and fled from him — before he could answer. 
 
 But at the first corner she stopped — suddenly, wist- 
 fully, abruptly — and instinctively looked back. 
 
 " I wonder," she murmured to herself in Polish, 
 "I wonder." Then she shook her head — and 
 went on. 
 
 Richard Faulconbridge, alone, abandoned, walked 
 back to the hotel — this time as if he were treading 
 on clouds, with the earth very far beneath him. 
 
VIII 
 
 THEN several days went slowly by — saturnine 
 days of solitude and silence for him — for she 
 had mysteriously disappeared. His plans re- 
 mained undeveloped ; he wandered restlessly from 
 pillar to post. He was bitten with a great desire, which 
 he could not even put into words. . . . 
 
 She had disappeared absolutely, completely — of 
 that there was no shadow of doubt. He had made 
 some inquiries, but he had only obtained the vaguest 
 answers. She was perhaps still in Moscow ; she 
 would doubtless soon return, since her room remained 
 engaged ; but what he was told did not inspire him 
 with any great hopes. So he moodily paced the city, 
 wondering why an adventure which had commenced 
 so briskly should end so lamely — wondering why he 
 should care. He was no Solomon to ask himself that. 
 Of course, she was what she said she was — that he 
 had already decided. He knew her too well — though 
 he did not know her at all — to be deceived by her 
 light raillery concerning the woes of professionals. 
 Nor was it correct to assume that she had been merely 
 willing to while away an idle hour on two occasions 
 for want of something better to do. He had the vague 
 feeling that on each occasion she had been feeling her 
 way, slowly and cautiously, without being able to 
 decide. Somehow he felt convinced that there was 
 meaning behind her sudden disappearance — a subtle 
 
86 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 meaning — a double meaning — something that would 
 sooner or later affect him. Each time they had met 
 it had been as if by chance — unexpectedly ; each time 
 they had parted it had been the same abrupt parting 
 that alone meant much. 
 
 He could, no doubt, have discovered something 
 about her had he pushed his questioning further ; had 
 he accepted no rebuffs. But he had been made aware 
 by subtle hints that leading questions were not amiably 
 received in this land of political woes and doubtful 
 intrigues, and that if he persisted he would only end 
 by attracting an unpleasant amount of attention to 
 himself. He felt that he was a fool not to be able 
 to unravel the skein unaided ; soon he became really 
 angry with himself. A little aimlessly he kept on 
 putting two and two together, and wondering by what 
 strange arithmetic they so suddenly made zero. We 
 can judge from this that he was unhappy. 
 
 He could not believe that it was merely her good 
 looks that had so greatly attracted him, though she 
 was admittedly very good to look upon. Nor was it 
 the strange and startling resemblance which she bore, 
 not only in her features, but in her little mannerisms, 
 to a faithless creature he had left so far behind him. 
 Sometimes he thought it must merely be her calm grey 
 eyes ; he had always loved a woman's eyes. He de- 
 lighted to look into their limpid colour, to wonder 
 about their secret depths, to build stories about their 
 hopes and fears. Her swift changes in mood and 
 manner, indeed, promised endless surprises — it was 
 wonderful, it was strange. He was sure there was 
 something mysterious, something preordained, about 
 his growing obsession for her, until he suddenly re- 
 membered that cruel psychological dictum — that a 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 87 
 
 man really loves not a particular woman, but a par- 
 ticular type — a type which is of necessity comple- 
 mentary to his own — the chance which throws the 
 two together being the real cement holding them fast. 
 That thought stung him to the quick with an odd 
 mixture of repentance and repining. 
 
 Yet, in spite of this, he resolutely thought as it 
 pleased him to think — that is, entirely on the surface. 
 She was very pretty — adorably pretty. How difficult 
 it was to resist her — how charming she was. Lucky, 
 indeed, would be the man who won even a little of her 
 affection. There was no gainsaying the beautiful 
 expression in her eyes. He was tired of passionate 
 amours — he wanted something which would be more 
 delicate, more fraught, if not with the incense of inno- 
 cence, at least with the desire of something really 
 great. Yes, that was it ; at last he had defined it. 
 Then, almost immediately, he began to doubt his 
 reasoning. For was the feeling which drew him 
 towards her anything but a sentimental sensuality — a 
 mood born of that craving for an amorous adventure 
 which steals over the strongest and wisest with an 
 intensity exactly commensurate with their strength 
 and wisdom ? He did not know. Yet the idea that he 
 might never look on her again, never hear the music of 
 her voice, never feel the witchery of her eyes, the in- 
 spiration of her presence — such an idea was intolerable 
 to him. 
 
 He had been sitting thinking these thoughts in the 
 noisy hotel hall — perhaps because he craved company 
 now. He rose in sudden irritation at the impasse 
 which he had met in his reasoning, and wandered to 
 the great main entrance, hoping that the changing 
 scene would change the colour, if not the texture, of 
 
88 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 his mind. Resolutely he tried to take an interest in 
 what was going on — determined to banish by an effort 
 of will this constant self-torture. 
 
 It was the noonday hour, and the local world — a 
 heterogeneous collection of men and women of all 
 ranks and all ages — seemed very busy circulating in 
 and out of this smartest of hotels. Carriages were 
 dashing up and dashing away, the constant stamp and 
 clatter of heavily shod hoofs on the rough cobblestones 
 adding greatly to the animation. Ever and anon, 
 high above the sound of the many voices, the chasseur 's 
 shrill whistle rose, bringing more and more galloping 
 horses to the door — horses that stood fretting at their 
 bits as hounds on the leash fret at the restraint, admir- 
 able horses, splendid horses such as Russia alone 
 possesses. It was undoubtedly gay. 
 
 Faulconbridge's interest in the scene slowly became 
 real in spite of himself. There was a subtle note of 
 excitement in the air which speedily reached him ; he 
 felt that something beneath this surface commotion 
 was filling people's minds with troubled thoughts, 
 and making them dream great dreams. He remem- 
 bered now, with that curious surprise which comes 
 to us when we revive thoughts that have lain tem- 
 porarily buried under a mass of new experiences, that 
 great and wonderful things had been expected during 
 this distant war — this far-away war which seemed to 
 interest no one here very greatly. A revolution had been 
 spoken of as possible, and even probable. Something 
 mighty, something great, had been called inevitable. 
 Elsewhere the prospect had appeared to him of more 
 than common interest, now that he was on the spot — 
 in the very storm-centre — all seemed to him very 
 quiet. Yet perhaps it might only be the strange calm 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 89 
 
 which, it is said, is found in the very centre of the 
 dread typhoon. Who knew, who could tell, among 
 this strange people, what the future really held ? 
 
 He had drawn aside to let a knot of people pass, 
 and as he did so, he accidentally trod on something 
 soft. With a sharp exclamation he turned, mechani- 
 cally adding a word of apology. He saw that he had 
 stepped on the foot of a small, ugly man, who had given 
 him one quick, sharp look, and then had hardly troubled 
 to do more than curtly incline his head. The man's 
 manner, indeed, was so abrupt— his attention so mani- 
 festly centred on something else— that Faulconbridge 
 suddenly felt his interest aroused. 
 
 He sauntered a little way along the pavement and 
 came to a halt where he could observe without being 
 overmuch observed. Lighting a cigarette, he assumed 
 an attitude of studied indifference. This might prove 
 amusing. 
 
 Then he glanced back. Who was this ugly, shabbily 
 dressed little man— and what brought him to such a 
 neighbourhood ? Faulconbridge was rather tickled 
 with the idea that he might really be a spy. For it was 
 abundantly plain that there must be some particular 
 reason for the singular vigilance with which he was 
 studying the eddies of people flung against the great 
 doors of the hotel. The man's eyes were never still ; 
 they were here, there, and everywhere ; he was like 
 a rat-terrier watching at the entrance of a hole— a 
 rat -terrier who would show no mercy when the mo- 
 ment for striking had arrived. What did it mean ? 
 
 Nothing happened for many minutes to which the 
 most suspicious of men could have given a sinister 
 significance— not a single thing. In great cities there 
 were always men of this type— of course, nobody 
 
90 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 noticed them ! But Faulconbridge was of the per- 
 sistent type. Having made up his mind to discover 
 something, he would not have hesitated to mount 
 guard all day. 
 
 As he stood there it gradually became evident to 
 him that this great movement of people was slacken- 
 ing, and that if anything happened it must happen 
 soon. Now he redoubled his vigilance. He judged 
 by the indignant gestures of those coming out of the 
 hotel that late-comers were being turned away — that 
 the restaurants were full to overflowing. He watched 
 a little knot of people move off violently talking ; and 
 then, for a reason which he could not explain, his at- 
 tention became suddenly fixed on a blind man who 
 was being slowly led along by a little girl. The man 
 was a splendid type of his race — tall and as straight 
 as a pine tree ; indeed, he was so sturdily built that 
 his strength seemed to belie his wrinkled face, his long 
 white beard, and his gnarled hands. His black top- 
 boots and his peaked black cap gave him an almost 
 military appearance, which was hardly diminished by 
 the big metal alms-box slung round his neck. He 
 might have been the veteran of a dozen campaigns — 
 begging for a living from the people after having often 
 offered his life for the State. It was the natural 
 end. . . . 
 
 The tall blind man came along very slowly, the little 
 girl bobbing up and down and inviting all who passed 
 them in a soft voice to assist them. Every now and 
 again some kind-hearted person responded, and a coin 
 would be dropped into the metal box. Then, at that 
 sound, a deep-voiced word of thanks would come from 
 the blind man, and his right hand would instinctively 
 give a military salute. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 91 
 
 At length the pair reached the hotel entrance, 
 and evidently judging this the best point of van- 
 tage, they stood there a little proudly, awaiting 
 what might be given them, but no longer soliciting 
 alms. 
 
 Presently a curious thing happened. A blond man, 
 with a dreamy expression on his face, came briskly 
 out of the hotel. As he passed the pair he made an 
 almost imperceptible sign with his gold-mounted cane. 
 At once the little girl began to beg in a shrill falsetto, 
 and hurried the blind man along after him ; the person 
 they were following stopped at length with an irritable, 
 violent movement, as if he only surrendered reluctantly 
 to this importuning. Then he put a hand into his 
 pocket, drew T out something, and going right up to the 
 blind man, carefully slipped his gift into the metal 
 box. 
 
 No clink followed. 
 
 A queer expression passed like a shadow over the 
 man's face, but almost at once his deep voice was 
 repeating his stereotyped phrase of thanks, and his 
 hand saluted. Before he had finished his speech his 
 mysterious donor had turned on his heels and was 
 rapidly walking away. 
 
 Faulconbridge — witness of this scene — was so extra- 
 ordinarily surprised that he forgot to light the fresh 
 cigarette which he had taken from his case and already 
 placed between his lips. He stood there blankly, al- 
 most stupidly. He had noticed the man's eyes — during 
 the fraction of a second. 
 
 " That man is not blind," he murmured to himself — 
 " that man is not blind ; and what is more, he is 
 nothing less than a travelling post office — a travelling 
 post office. . . ." 
 
92 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 He was so surprised that for several minutes he 
 forgot his original object in mounting guard. When 
 he did remember it was to find that he was hardly 
 in time to see the climax — which was this. The 
 alleged blind man, led by the little girl, was hastening 
 straight across the great square, past the fluttering 
 pigeons, past the good woman whose business it was 
 to care for them, past the loiterers who were lazily 
 sunning themselves there. And, sauntering behind 
 the couple, with his hands in his pockets, and his head 
 bent towards the ground, as if he were deep in thought, 
 came the ugly, forbidding little man. 
 
 That was all Faulconbridge, his e3^es now big with 
 astonishment, saw. In vain he wondered what it all 
 could possibly mean. 
 
 That was just what other people were desirous of 
 knowing. The fat Frenchman, Verdard, leaning out 
 of his window to see if Moniseur le Baron's excuse that 
 he could not stay to lunch was really genuine, had at 
 once noticed the strangely assorted couple, and had 
 seen how they had followed the Baron. Then, open- 
 mouthed, he had observed the flutter of white passing 
 into the metal box, as well as the disappearance of the 
 begging couple — followed by the other man. He 
 would have given a thousand francs to have made 
 quite sure about the other man's face, but he was 
 afraid to venture out. 
 
 " What the devil does this mean ? " he exclaimed to 
 himself. He had come on a reflection of his own 
 perplexed face in the looking-glass, and that reflection 
 arrested his attention in an altogether remarkable 
 manner. 
 
 " What the devil am I doing in this galley ? " he 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 93 
 
 added angrily, with a great gesture, becoming almost 
 histrionic in his perturbation. 
 
 He felt that in some way he was being trifled with 
 — that things were taking place with which he had 
 no sympathy — that the air was thick with immediate 
 dangers. 
 
 Suddenly he made up his mind. Gathering together 
 all sorts of papers of small size, hidden in various ways 
 about his person, he quickly made a little bonfire of 
 them all and put the ashes carefully into an envelope, 
 which he purposed immediately throwing away. 
 Matters were getting oddly complicated ; it was best 
 to be prepared for the worst. 
 
 That is also what the head porter thought. Though 
 busy as usual, he had left his stand the very instant 
 the man who had set this play in motion had appeared. 
 Going out for an instant on some pretext or other, he, 
 too, had understood in a flash what has been described. 
 
 There was a queer smile on his face as he returned 
 and answered the stupid question of some stupid 
 travellers. Then, the moment he was free, he went 
 into the long-distance telephone-box, and impera- 
 tively ringing up St. Petersburg, began at once to 
 speak a few sharp, biting sentences. 
 
 It was a peculiar thing that the language he used 
 was Yiddish. 
 
IX 
 
 FAULCONBRIDGE was still under the spell of 
 these strange developments, when — yielding 
 to an inspiration — that same afternoon he went 
 to feed his mind on the astounding portraiture of 
 Russian greatness contained in the Tretiakoff Gallery. 
 There the magic brushes of the great Verestchagin, 
 and the no less masterful Repin, unrolled before his 
 eyes marvellous scenes of bloodshed and heroism — on 
 enormous canvases which seemed specially designed 
 to unmask the aspirations of an extraordinary 
 race. 
 
 As he stood before those great pictures which deal 
 so lucidly with the endless Russian conquering move- 
 ment into Asia — those endless pictures of the Musco- 
 vite in deathless conflict with the Turk and the Turki 
 and many other turbaned men — it seemed to him that 
 here was the complement to the earlier struggles at 
 home, when the giant figures of Ivan the Terrible, 
 and Peter the Great, and Catherine the Greater, not 
 only dominated their peoples and their times, but by 
 their stern and unbending decrees had actually pro- 
 jected their sinister will-power and unalterable resolve 
 down the winding avenues of the future — forcing blind 
 obedience among the countless children of their race 
 during all these later generations. He stood enthralled 
 before battle-scenes, which for brutal energy of por- 
 traiture and boldness of colouring are without com- 
 
 94 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 95 
 
 peers in the European world — those immortal battle- 
 scenes so vividly done that merely by gazing at them 
 their smoke and glamour gradually rise as if by magic 
 from the lifeless canvas and hold the onlooker breath- 
 less and spellbound. 
 
 Blood and iron — here they were actually naming 
 up — fired by supreme imaginations. It was always 
 iron and blood and nothing else — it was always 
 in desperate encounters that the artist rose far above 
 the earth and touched the stars. For the gentler 
 scenes faded almost as one looked at them; the 
 banality of quiet life stood suddenly unmasked as 
 hopeless mediocrity ; and the imagination, inflamed 
 through the eyes, fanned by the tumult of the heart, 
 remained saturated with the burning impression of 
 those sterner doings. 
 
 It was the apotheosis of brute strength — nothing 
 but brute strength — scenes in which the deep-chested, 
 iron-limbed, bearded white man conquered, not because 
 of his virtues, but by reason of his physical force. It 
 was all fierce and violent to a degree not easily set 
 down in words — it was brutally masterly. . . . 
 
 Yet it was also something else. At the very bottom 
 it was inspired by something nobler, something more 
 ethereal, something tender and sweet. For it was rich 
 with the idealism springing from a sublime belief in 
 heaven, in the personal God, in the mercy and wrath of 
 the Almighty ; it was as rich, therefore, in deep-rooted 
 emotionalism as a Golconda is rich in gold. The tears 
 which fell from the eyes of the victorious soldiery in 
 their hours of triumph were scalding tears such as the 
 Crusaders in ancient days shed at the mere sight of 
 Jerusalem ; they were the tears of men who became 
 children in the presence of the Tremendous— who 
 
96 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 bowed down their heads and wept because sometimes 
 it is as good for the strong to weep as it is for them 
 to laugh. . . . Never before had Faulconbridge 
 dreamed of such battle-fields ; now their inner signifi- 
 cance, their secret meaning, struck into him with the 
 blinding light of a searchlight. 
 
 The people, too, who were gazing at these immortal 
 scenes, delighted him here in his new mood just as they 
 had delighted him on that memorable morning in the 
 Kremlin — it was such a very different world from the 
 world of European conventionalities. Long-haired, 
 Christ-like priests, trim soldiers, deep-chested pea- 
 sants, slim schoolgirls, white-haired widows, towns- 
 people and country-people, rich people and poor people 
 — it was once again a whole nation surveying its history 
 with awestruck eyes ; a richly variegated nation, a 
 nation in the making — a nation with the clay from 
 which it had sprung not yet entirely brushed away. 
 ... At times, as Faulconbridge studied the moving 
 throng, it almost seemed to him as if the world de- 
 picted in the marvellous frescoes of the Paris Pantheon 
 — the people of the fifteenth century and of the tenth 
 century, and perhaps even of the fifth century — had 
 stepped to earth once more and commenced walk- 
 ing here. There was the appearance and the sim- 
 plicity of the earlier centuries in the dress and 
 manners of these people, in their aspects and attitudes, 
 in their honest blue eyes ; indeed, the world seemed 
 young once more and the irrational and the impossible 
 had become quite possible. ... In the inspiring 
 neighbourhood of such masterpieces it was easy to 
 think great thoughts ; these unending rooms, glorious 
 with colour, were the supreme realization of a barbaric 
 artistry. So he wandered a little blindly to and fro, 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 97 
 
 retracing his footsteps whenever the mood moved him 
 — coming back again and again to the things that 
 attracted him, avoiding whatever repelled him. He 
 had found a second epic of the Russian race. 
 
 He felt he would never forget the manner in which 
 he surprised her. 
 
 He had been standing in the middle of a room with 
 his head thrown back and his hands clasped behind 
 his back, his attention concentrated on an immense 
 tragic canvas of Plevna, when the sound of some quick 
 whispers made him suddenly turn. The colour quickly 
 rose to his cheeks as he realized that it was her — no 
 other person than Sasha — Sasha, with her back turned 
 towards him — Sasha, quickly whispering to a vulgar 
 man with a coal-black beard, who was listening dis- 
 dainfully and even angrily to what she said, as if she 
 were not only displeasing him, but were actually his 
 inferior. 
 
 She here, and with such a man ! He could hardly 
 believe his eyes. Instantly and mechanically his 
 mind recurred to the scene in front of the hotel. 
 
 Now a wave of something sharper than mere annoy- 
 ance swept over him as he stood there thunderstruck ; 
 there was suggestion about this intimate conversation 
 which somehow hurt him — offended him — made him 
 sorry that he should have so idealized her. ... In- 
 deed, it was difficult not to think damaging thoughts. 
 He remembered what somebody had once said — that 
 the only beautiful things are the things that do not 
 concern us. 
 
 Suddenly he commenced walking away. He would 
 leave the place at once — he would not give her the 
 opportunity of even seeing him. He had been a fool 
 7 
 
98 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 to build castles in the air ; he should be more calm — 
 less imaginative. Thinking which, he quickened his 
 pace — to rid himself of his obsession, to escape. But 
 almost immediately he had the feeling that it was 
 too late— that she, too, had surprised him, just as he 
 had surprised her, and that without so much as bidding 
 good-bye to her strange companion, she was already 
 following hard on his heels. 
 
 For a moment he tried to delude himself that he 
 was reasoning wildly. Then, when at last he was forced 
 to turn at the end of the room, he saw that it was in- 
 deed so. The vulgar man with the coal-black beard 
 had mysteriously vanished, and now, almost beside 
 him — was Sasha. . . . 
 
 " Is it you ? " she said, coming close up to him 
 with both hands held out— in a pretty, begging ges- 
 ture, instinctive and unstudied. He saw that her big 
 grey eyes did not look so calm to-day ; something 
 had happened which made them less confident. He 
 found himself saying to himself— in spite of his pre- 
 occupation and suspicion — that she possessed the kind 
 of beauty which changes with every changing emotion 
 — as the face of the heavens is changed by the shifting 
 moods of the elements. 
 
 He scanned her narrowly. Yes— she was softer to- 
 day ; much softer ; there was no trace of mockery in 
 her look ; indeed, there was discouragement and 
 chagrin — even a suspicion of tears. What could it 
 mean ? Already he was almost sorry he had thought 
 such harsh thoughts. 
 
 "Is it you ? " she repeated again, as if wondering 
 at his silence. 
 
 u I suppose so," he said at last, with half -unconscious 
 irony in his manner. He did not wish to be brutal, but 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 99 
 
 something still repelled him, angered him — something 
 which he did not attempt to understand. 
 
 He gazed round the room to see if they could really 
 talk as they might wish without fear of interruption. 
 Yes — it was quite late — the last people had wandered 
 out — nobody else appeared to be coming in. Relieved 
 by the solitude, he began idly wondering what are the 
 forces which so blindly throw people together again 
 and again — as if they were meant for one another — only 
 sowing the seeds of unhappiness by so doing. . . . 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? ' she asked. " You 
 are standing there as if you had been struck dumb ! 
 What a curious man you are — even for an Englishman ! 
 Well — if you will not talk I suppose I must — I hate 
 silent people — silence means distrust. ..." She 
 smiled faintly. '• I would have written to you days 
 ago telling you that I hoped to meet you again — you 
 know I promised to bring you here, to this very place 
 — only that it has not been wise for me to write — and 
 I had much to do. I wanted to see you — I cannot 
 tell you how much. You are so different from those 
 in whose company I am thrown — do not think that 
 I merely seek to flatter you now. But I have been 
 busy — away from Moscow — and tired — only to-day 
 could I find time to go out." She stopped abruptly, 
 and now her eyes were riveted almost suspiciously 
 on his face. " What are you thinking of ? " she 
 asked once more — this time very sharply. 
 
 " Am I thinking ? ' he replied, with a short laugh. 
 " I feel as though I had forgotten everything." 
 
 " Ah," she exclaimed, with a sudden gesture as of 
 relief. " Ah," she repeated again, the colour coming 
 into her cheeks. Then she came very close to him 
 and looked into his face with a new look in her eyes. 
 
100 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " Do you care about me as much as that ? " she in- 
 quired softly. 
 
 He made no answer, but seated himself with an 
 impatient movement on a bench which was just 
 beside them as if he were really tired. It so happened 
 that the picture above them portrayed a savage warrior 
 of Gothic days, mounted on a gigantic horse, with a 
 weeping maid in his arms ; and as the girl glanced up 
 she faintly smiled. 
 
 " How curious it is," she murmured, pursuing the 
 line of thought he had unconsciously suggested to her 
 — accepted as a fact something which he had in no 
 wise confessed — " I have never loved anyone, though 
 many have made love to me. But you — you are a 
 man. You are older than I am — you have had more 
 time ! There must have been several, though you 
 told me once that you had never loved." She stopped 
 and became a little defiant — as if somehow she had 
 acquired the right to be that. " I did not believe you, 
 you know, no — not a little bit. Now tell me truly — 
 I want to know. ..." 
 
 He looked at her steadily and a little wistfully — 
 suddenly feeling a strange, overwhelming desire to 
 speak the truth. He did not know why he should have 
 thought that just then ; it came on him spontaneously 
 and irresistibly — as the best impulses always come. 
 
 " There was one," he replied slowly, " there was 
 one I loved very much. It was not long ago. . . . But 
 it was not like this. . . . Something quite different. 
 ... I would tell you about it, only that I have no 
 heart to speak. Men are not like women ; they do 
 not like to talk of the past ; all they do is to try to 
 forget." And then he stopped. 
 
 She had listened to him with parted lips, as a child 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 101 
 
 listens to a thrilling tale, perhaps expecting him to 
 continue for a long time until the very end was reached. 
 She had listened in an impersonal way — it seemed to 
 him — as if this were the story of some distant adven- 
 ture in a world about which she knew nothing. 
 There was something curiously bird-like in her atti- 
 tude — something new to him. 
 
 " Did she die ? " she inquired at length, softly, 
 seeing that he had stopped for good, " or was she a 
 married woman ? These flirtations with married 
 women never make men happy. I have often heard 
 that — I wonder why people begin them ! ' 
 
 " She is not dead, and she is not married," said 
 Faulconbridge, a little coldly now ; " but I am not 
 likely to see her again — at least, for some years." 
 
 " She has disappeared, and you may never hear 
 from her again. I do not understand." 
 
 Her eyes were, indeed, big with wonder ; in spite 
 of himself, man-like, he smiled. 
 
 " That is hardly likely. ... To be precise, I re- 
 ceived a letter only this morning. . . ." He stopped 
 again, and looked up with a certain grim humour in 
 his manner. " It was a very womanly letter. ... In 
 it she said that she was sorry and wanted me to re- 
 turn." 
 
 Unexpectedly — violently — Sasha stamped her foot. 
 
 " We need not talk about her any longer," she 
 cried, as if a sudden pang of jealousy had shot 
 through her ; " she doesn't matter, you have said so 
 yourself. Why do you continue to speak of her ? . . . I 
 do not want to hear of her — what a foolish man you 
 are. . . . But tell me — what was she like ? ' 
 
 " She was very pretty," he answered sadly, " as 
 pretty as any of the pictures that hang on these most 
 
103 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 marvellous walls." Saying which he stared at her 
 fixedly. 
 
 " Well," she said inquiringly, plainly puzzled by 
 what she thought his shifting mood. 
 
 " I suppose I may as well tell you now as at any 
 other time. It is rather strange, and quite unbeliev- 
 able ; one of those things which, because they are quite 
 possible, are so constantly happening. ... It is best 
 perhaps that you should know it." He watched 
 her closely to see how she would take it. " You your- 
 self are the living, breathing image " 
 
 He was not mistaken, as she understood what he 
 had not even spoken, but only implied : a flame of 
 anger shot up and showed through her eyes. 
 
 Slowly she drew a little away, folded her hands, 
 tilted back her head, stiffened her body — as if to 
 show the full measure of her disdain. Then she began 
 to speak clearly, bitingly — in a rather foreign way : 
 
 " Well — that is charming — I should doubtless be 
 flattered — it is very nice to play the part of a living, 
 breathing image — to impersonate somebody else — to 
 soothe your broken heart — to solace you. ... I 
 begin to understand you — to understand you very 
 fully — and the comedy is too simple to give me any 
 delight. . . . Indeed, it is not of a nature to please 
 even a most foolish woman. Because I resemble so 
 closely somebody you have cast off, because I am 
 the living, breathing image, you — you like me ! Bah ! 
 How very, very flattering, Mister Faulconbridge ! " 
 
 She paused almost breathless and surveyed him 
 scornfully, as she slowly and bitterly pronounced his 
 name, rolling the r's. Now she stood with her hands 
 on her hips and that look in her eyes he liked so well. 
 Once again there was something Spanish in her pose — 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 103 
 
 something he would not have missed for all the world 
 just then. She was exactly as she had been when first 
 he had seen her at the window. Now that she was 
 really aroused he felt that the road ahead had sud- 
 denly become clear. 
 
 " Do not move," he exclaimed, looking at her 
 admiringly. " Stand like that for hours, if you can. 
 ... I have never seen anything that I liked 
 better." 
 
 " Really," she returned scornfully, " how high I 
 stand in your regard ! Dear me, you flatter wonder- 
 fully to-day ! First I am a resemblance, therefore 
 I am pleasing to your eyes ! Then I become a tableau 
 vivant, which you are good enough to look upon and 
 approve of ! I really am puzzled to know what I 
 shall be next so as not to fall as Lucifer fell ! ' 
 
 He met her raillery in a spirit just as unconcerned. 
 " Have no fear — I shall never cease to think of 
 you as being capable of inspiring things ! And as I 
 do not doubt that you are also by nature very just, 
 you will be forced to admit that I am quite apprecia- 
 tive. . . . For, remember, I have only met you five 
 times in all these endless days, and each time has been 
 so unsatisfactory." 
 
 She seized on that last word. 
 " Unsatisfactory ? " she echoed. 
 " Yes "—he answered gravely enough. " Listen : 
 it is a sad enough chronicle. The first time you 
 laughed at me from a window and made me angry. 
 The second time you crushed me at a breakfast -table. 
 The third time you boldly took me to look at history, 
 as you called it. The fourth time you lured me into 
 
 a church only to dismiss me. The fifth time " 
 
 He paused. 
 
104 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " The fifth time," she echoed. 
 
 " This is the fifth time/' he said. " I do not yet 
 know what the fifth time is to be — it is too soon to be 
 certain. Perhaps we are going to quarrel." 
 
 Adroitly and unexpectedly, she changed her atti- 
 tude. 
 
 " To quarrel ? Why should I quarrel with you ? 
 How absurd ! It is for you to decide what this fifth 
 time shall be." 
 
 He brushed the subtle compliment aside and pressed 
 the advantage which he at last had gained. 
 
 ■' Why are you never at the hotel ? " he began, half 
 laughingly, half serious. " What makes you so mys- 
 terious, so elusive, so difficult to understand ? You 
 never answer my questions — you forbid me to make 
 inquiries. You say your business is to sing — where 
 do you sing ? Listen till I tell you what you are. 
 You are a little shadow — you flit quickly across my 
 path and then are as suddenly gone ; indeed, you 
 appear only to disappear. A man cannot reasonably 
 fall in love with a shadow ; it would scarcely be human. 
 And yet your shadow seems oddly attractive — at all 
 times. . . ." 
 
 He laughed defiantly, and looked around as if to 
 indicate that he was searching for her late companion. 
 
 Her manner showed at once that she understood. 
 
 " Dear me," she said impatiently, avoiding the 
 issue, and beating the floor with her foot, " you are 
 not kind at all to me to-day. Perhaps it is that letter 
 you spoke about which makes you so ! It is not good 
 for a man to think about two women at once, though 
 a woman can think with enjoyment of a good many more 
 men than that. . . . Heavens! ... I do not want to 
 talk this way to-day — you have made me. Yet I do 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 105 
 
 not know why I should. For to-day — to-day I am 
 truly in trouble — in great, distressing trouble." 
 
 She smiled faintly, but instinctively she pressed her 
 hand against her heart. 
 
 Instantly his manner changed. 
 
 " In trouble," he echoed gravely ; " you in trouble — 
 why ? " 
 
 " Ah — that is the trouble with my trouble — it is a 
 dead secret, it must remain a dead secret. I cannot 
 say a word — not on my life — not yet. . . . Oh, not 
 yet. . . . And yet I think I would sooner tell you 
 than anyone else. I am sure you are to be trusted." 
 
 " A trouble which must remain a dead secret," he 
 repeated thoughtfully ; " that is strange, for the last 
 time I met you you were like this too — though the 
 attack was then not quite so bad. If it is some- 
 thing which can be mended you should not carry it 
 about like a great burden, never attempting to lay it 
 down." 
 
 " I know," she said, in a voice which suddenly 
 sounded tearful, " I know. ... A woman is not made 
 to carry burdens — they are very terrible things. 
 Believe me. A woman is weak — oh ! so weak, even 
 when she is strong. ... I would give anything if I 
 could tell you — you, who are really still a stranger 
 to me — I am tempted sorely — oh, yes ! I am tempted 
 so much that ... I must go. . . . Say good-bye to 
 me. . . . Make me go — good Mr. Faulconbridge ! ' 
 
 She looked at him appealingly, longingly ; then 
 suddenly she turned as if to carry out her threat. In 
 the confusion of the moment their hands met — and 
 thus they remained. She tried to twist herself free, 
 but perhaps she did not try very hard since she did not 
 succeed. A priest, who had entered the room, cat a- 
 
106 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 logue in hand, was slowly approaching, pretending to 
 read from the text. There was no time to lose. 
 
 Now she looked long and curiously into his face. 
 
 " I wonder how far I could trust you," she said at 
 length, in a much changed voice, as if she were whisper- 
 ing to somebody in the background. " I wonder how 
 far ! " 
 
 " As far as my strength would bear it," he answered 
 smilingly. " Is the secret so very terrible ? ' 
 
 The priest had come so near that their intimacy was 
 openly threatened. 
 
 " Listen," she said, with sudden resolve. " I cannot 
 tell you now — it is quite impossible. But will you 
 come if I send for you — will you help me in a matter 
 of great importance ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said abruptly. 
 
 Suddenly she smiled on him her most bewitching 
 smile. 
 
 " Very good, I shall remember your promise. Now ' 
 — she freed her hands — " I must really go ; but soon, 
 very soon, you will hear from me if I cannot meet 
 you." 
 
 He did not attempt to parley with her further — to 
 follow her. He knew that it would have been useless. 
 He must take things as they came. He only noticed 
 that after she had gone, his hands still tingled, because 
 of the pressure of her hands, and that great room 
 seemed very empty. . . . 
 
X 
 
 L^TER in the hotel he pretended to eat some 
 dinner, whilst he listened to the wild music 
 ^ of an orchestra which was playing with the 
 abandon only Russians and Bohemians can throw into 
 their art. The memory of the girl — the warm pressure 
 of her hands, the look in her eyes, possessed him body 
 and soul. He could not eat because of his thinking. 
 
 Around him the tables were crowded with men and 
 women, talking excitedly and toasting one another 
 with unending vigour. There was a curious madness in 
 the air, it seemed to him, because of the turmoil in his 
 mind. There had been another terrible battle in far- 
 away Asia— a fearful battle. In the streets hoarse 
 voices could be heard shouting the special editions 
 which were still coming out, wet from the press, and full 
 of most appalling details. It was rumoured that 
 fifty thousand men had been lost — whole battalions 
 annihilated — obliterated by cruel shrapnel, a truly 
 horrible holocaust. Yet this news affected all these 
 people not as a grief does, but rather as an aphrodisiac. 
 Nobody cared about the war — not a soul. He saw 
 people shrugging their shoulders, and then violently 
 flinging their newspapers to the waiters to be removed 
 — as if they had been tainted things. 
 
 They did not care, they did not care, he repeated 
 to himself wonderingly. The note of suspense which 
 he had caught in the morning seemed more evident 
 
 107 
 
108 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 to him than ever to-night. Ever and again electric 
 thrills seemed to pass through these many people, 
 which caused their voices to rise like great waves that 
 advance roaringly from the deep and break on rocky 
 seashores with resounding thunder. There were vast 
 reserves of strength, he said to himself, in these men 
 and women which no one as yet had thought of measur- 
 ing — which perhaps were hardly suspected ; and yet 
 which were as clear to him just now as if they had 
 been stated in mathematical terms. Here at last was 
 the brute nation which would not hesitate to attempt 
 anything — no matter how mad the issue might be. . . . 
 
 A sense of uneasiness grew in him as he pondered 
 over it all — now he looked round with more than 
 wondering eyes. This feverish atmosphere completed 
 the vague trouble that filled his mind. He felt that 
 something must happen soon — that the tension had 
 reached snapping-point. What would it be ? He 
 did not care, he repeated. Yet it seemed to him that 
 he was no longer surveying the scene with the care- 
 less eyes of an impartial observer. The invisible power 
 of sympathy was forcing him somehow to take part 
 in the play — this girl, Sasha, was forcing it upon him. 
 Though he could not guess what was behind her 
 curious behaviour, though all their intercourse had 
 been so curious, so bizarre, so aggravating, suddenly 
 he knew that the mystery could not always remain so 
 great. 
 
 Just then a curious thing occurred. Two men had 
 stood up and commenced shaking their fists franti- 
 cally in each other's face, whilst a dozen servants with 
 loud, startled remarks hastened up and tried in vain 
 to calm them. Involuntarily a sharp exclamation fell 
 from Faulconbridge's lips as he realized what had 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 109 
 
 happened ; one of the two was no other than the self- 
 same black-bearded man whom he had seen that very 
 afternoon with Sasha. . . . Motionless, thunderstruck 
 at this peculiar discovery, he awaited the outcome of 
 this extraordinary scene, with the conviction that it 
 would lead to something new. 
 
 The two men had become more frantic. A great un- 
 reasoning fury seemed to possess them. There was a 
 depth of passion in their gestures and in their sonorous 
 voices unknown even among Latins — in spite of the 
 servants, it seemed as if they would tear each other to 
 pieces. 
 
 The uproar had now risen so high above the general 
 din that general attention was quickly attracted. 
 Magically silence fell on the great room as people stood 
 up to try to see what had occurred — many even 
 mounting on top of their chairs. It had suddenly 
 become like an audience in a theatre — the minds of 
 men and women alike evidently leaping at once to the 
 conclusion that a sensational arrest was being made. 
 The servants had at last managed to seize and pinion 
 the furious pair — uniformed chasseurs were running 
 in swiftly ; the whole activities of this vast cara- 
 vansary were plainly paralysed by the peculiar nature 
 of the contretemps at such an hour as this. 
 
 Faulconbridge, standing up as the rest of the com- 
 pany were doing, his heart full of apprehension, looked 
 in vain for somebody who would furnish an explana- 
 tion. His polyglot waiter had disappeared in the 
 confusion ; there was not a soul in the place he knew 
 or could speak to. It was precisely at this moment that 
 a fat, red-faced man whose eyes were intently fixed 
 upon the struggling group suddenly bumped heavily 
 into him. 
 
110 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 Faulconbridge, in turning, recognized him at once. 
 It was the Frenchman who had come to Moscow in 
 the same train with him, and who had been so voluble 
 about his business. Already the man was apologizing 
 profusely, as if afraid of the consequences of his care- 
 lessness. Faulconbridge seized the opportunity. 
 
 " I think, Monsieur, that we travelled here together 
 on Tuesday,'' he said in French. 
 
 " Certainly, certainly — I remember well." The 
 stranger hesitated for a moment before he added : 
 " My name is Emile Verdard, and I am from 
 Lyons." 
 
 " Mine is Faulconbridge, and I am an Englishman." 
 
 " A felicity to meet you," said the other, shaking 
 his hand vigorously in the manner which the ingenuous 
 Continental still imagines is very English. " Ah, they 
 have them at last ! Ah, the brutes, what a noise they 
 made ! " He pointed with his fat hands. 
 
 The two protagonists, still violently protesting, were 
 now being led out, cowed by the members who sur- 
 rounded them. 
 
 " The secret police — as usual, late," exclaimed the 
 Frenchman again, with a curious uneasy laugh. Three 
 men, their black felt hats in their hands, had entered 
 the dining-room by another door, and were hastening 
 after the retreating party. One of the three was the 
 same small, ugly man who had acted so singularly in 
 the morning. 
 
 The Frenchman had turned his back on the three, 
 immediately he had caught sight of them. Now he 
 was engaged in blowing his nose with a handkerchief, 
 which he spread almost entirely over his face. Faul- 
 conbridge, surprised though he was at this manoeuvre, 
 had his attention concentrated elsewhere. He, too, 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 111 
 
 had recognized the ugly little man. . . . Now rapidly 
 yet vainly he tried to connect the scattered links of the 
 long chain which united these many people. It was 
 becoming so curious that he could not refrain from 
 ejaculating something. 
 
 " You spoke ? " inquired Monsieur Emile Verdard 
 in a mi^^ ~oice, his face still half concealed by the 
 handkerchief. 
 
 Faulconbridge shook his head ; he had become 
 oddly cautious ; he was determined he would not 
 show what he felt. He swallowed down the question 
 which had almost passed his lips, and affected com- 
 plete indifference. 
 
 " I said nothing, but since this interesting affair is 
 over, will you not join me and explain what it was all 
 about?" 
 
 He drew back a chair and invited the Frenchman 
 to take a seat. Everybody was sitting down again, 
 and the storm of voices was rising high once more. 
 The incident was already almost forgotten. 
 
 " My dear sir," said Monsieur Emile Verdard very 
 sententiously, now that he had regained his calm and 
 that all immediate danger was past, " in Russia one 
 does not attempt to explain : one observes. If you 
 try to go farther than that you very quickly find 
 that your wits are not as quick as the developments 
 which you attempt to disentangle. Perhaps this 
 scene was a very ordinary dispute about something 
 very small ; perhaps it was the beginning of some- 
 thing very great. In any case, we shall see the lie 
 agreed upon in to-morrow's papers. You read Rus- 
 sian ? No, you only speak a few words. It is a pity — 
 their papers are very amusing — particularly now during 
 this war. They contradict themselves almost hourly 
 
112 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 and are full of terror about their wretched police. May 
 I offer you a cigar ? " 
 
 With that he drew from his pocket the formidable 
 case which so often carried valuable papers. He drew 
 it from his pocket with a certain heartache — with a 
 sudden return of a sentiment which he had tried in 
 vain to annihilate. To-night there was nothing in 
 it save very excellent tobacco from a Havana factory. 
 
XI 
 
 MANY curious eyes watched the two, an hour 
 or so later, as they sauntered out for a 
 breath of fresh air. Perhaps it was because 
 the contrast was so marked — Verdard, round, even 
 tub-like in form, with choleric colouring, gleaming eyes, 
 expansive gestures — your true bourgeois disporting 
 himself after a glass of the best ; Faulconbridge, tall, 
 calm, seemingly indifferent — a chip from another 
 block — listening in careful silence to the other's wordi- 
 ness. 
 
 There was much to listen to — a very great deal. 
 It is true the Frenchman had been very circumspect. 
 He had stopped short every time he was on the point 
 of becoming really interesting ; but his sly looks, his 
 hints, his coughs, his nods, his tremendous gestures, 
 had supplied a world of missing links. 
 
 Poor man. He had ached to say a great deal more ! 
 He had ached to tell this rufous Englishman, who 
 merely listened and nodded his head so gravely, the 
 plain truth — that he — Emile Verdard, the man stand- 
 ing beside him — cook by trade and nothing else — 
 had become, thanks to his intriguing powers, one of the 
 chosen instruments of Providence in an unhappy land 
 — that it was due to his underground activity that 
 half the weapons and half the explosives lay at this 
 moment in the secret arsenals of this city — that it was 
 his brains that had supplied the methods. The wine 
 8 113 
 
114 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 he had drunk had kindled in him a sense of burning 
 injustice ; here at least was a neutral person who 
 would most certainly willingly acknowledge, if he were 
 told, his correct value. He longed to speak frankly 
 and hear some words of approval just as a woman 
 longs for her lover — and yet he knew that he must 
 restrain himself to the bitter end. That evening it 
 seemed not only an unjust, but a cruel world for him. 
 
 And this long inner struggle had cost him dear. 
 The desire to find some outlet for his pent-up emotions 
 had become uncontrollable. He must find an outlet. 
 
 " Let us go somewhere to amuse ourselves," he 
 exclaimed, after standing near the front door for a 
 few more minutes. " I know a place where a night 
 is not spent in vain — the very place for us. You con- 
 sent, of course." And with that he called loudly to a 
 driver who had driven slowly near. 
 
 A string of surprising oaths fell from his lips, because 
 the man did not gallop up fast enough. And then, 
 hardly had they started, before he called to the 
 grinning fellow, who had measured his mood, to use 
 the whip and nothing but the whip. 
 
 " I feel like driving to the devil to-night," he ex- 
 claimed to his companion, mopping his perspiring face, 
 and heaving his shoulders as if seeking for more 
 air. 
 
 " The driver has a mind to oblige you," rejoined 
 Faulconbridge a little ironically, as they rounded the 
 first corner at full gallop and the four wheels of the 
 carriage fairly jumped from the ground. He had 
 already entered into the spirit of the thing : this suited 
 his mood as well. 
 
 " Skorei — fast, faster," called Verdard ; and the 
 heavily shod hoofs coming down fiercely on the rough 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 115 
 
 cobblestones threw off clouds of sparks. It was sur- 
 prising what a number of sparks there were — as if the 
 very streets of Moscow had become inflammable that 
 night. Verdard watched them with staring eyes as if 
 they fascinated him. 
 
 " Nowhere else in the world can one drive like this," 
 he resumed presently to his companion. " Nowhere ! 
 It is as refreshing as a cold douche." 
 
 Faulconbridge looked at him keenly as they passed 
 like a flash under a big arc -lamp. The man was 
 trembling with suppressed excitement. It was a 
 curious fate which had brought him into contact with 
 so many mysterious folk : it would not be long before 
 this one showed his hand. 
 
 " Yes, it is refreshing," he said coolly — wedging his 
 feet more tightly against the carriage. 
 
 As they rocked and swayed and jumped he some- 
 how felt that he was being borne along to a destination 
 which would materially influence the rest of his life. 
 It was like that first eventful drive — precisely like it. 
 He remembered how he had thought it then. This 
 was a land of fits and starts. After an idle pause he 
 was being hurled forward again — as fast as horses 
 could gallop over rough roads — to something which 
 was already awaiting him, something which he could 
 not escape — which would swallow him up as ruthlessly 
 as Gargantua is reputed to have done with the five 
 pilgrims, together with their staves, in one enormous 
 salad. He enjoyed the feeling — he enjoyed it so much 
 that he became as eager as the fat, whimsical man at his 
 side to finish with this driving and to pass to the next 
 act. 
 
 He looked around him, suddenly remembering that 
 he had not even asked where they were going, and 
 
116 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 alive to the fact that once again he might lose him- 
 self. 
 
 They were making their way very rapidly out of the 
 city now. Long avenues, lined with tall trees, spread 
 away into the distance ; the great closed shops and 
 tall apartment-houses had given place to detached 
 villas and gardens. Occasionally, in the distance, 
 the dim outline of tall chimneys and long, low-lying 
 buildings proclaimed the neighbourhood of factories. 
 The cobblestones of the city had been replaced by 
 a highway rutted by the rains ; and now in the un- 
 certain light of oil-lamps their rate of progress had 
 become a challenge to disaster. 
 
 Still the driver drove as madly and as speedily as 
 ever. Incited by what had been so fiercely shouted 
 at him, he was now on his mettle and determined to 
 win more than a meed of praise. Besides, he had done 
 this very often before. Every now and again they 
 overtook carriages going in the same direction, but in 
 a moment they had left them behind much as an 
 express train flashes by an ordinary omnibus. Each 
 time they encountered such a vehicle instinctively 
 their man had shouted a taunt ; and twice, goaded 
 by his words, there had come behind them a sharp 
 clatter of hoofs and a tornado of whipping and cursing. 
 But it was no good. Their driver had caught the 
 spirit of the game. The devil was in him, too, and now 
 he drove with whip and voice as he could have seldom 
 driven before. Literally they flew ; and the distances 
 were annihilated to the unending roar of their wheels. 
 
 A blaze of light rose up at last before them much as 
 land rises up before a ship when the sea-fog clears. 
 The powerful driver, throwing himself back in far his 
 seat, with an iron effort controlled the fretting mouths 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 117 
 
 of his steeds ; then, bending far over to one side, he 
 had swung the team in through a high gateway at a 
 fast hand-gallop. They had arrived ; it had been a 
 masterly exhibition of driving even in a land of horse- 
 masters. 
 
 Faulconbridge looked round in growing curiosity. 
 
 The scented night now danced with fairy lights, and 
 a sound of sensuous music was wafted to them. He 
 caught the atmosphere of the place almost before there 
 was time to look. 
 
 For the carriage had hardly stopped before Verdard 
 sprang to the ground as lightly as a girl would have 
 done. The driver, hat in hand, was pointing laugh- 
 ingly to his smoking horses. Plainly he expected 
 largesse ; he was not disappointed. Verdard, thrusting 
 his hand into his pocket, drew out a ten-rouble note 
 and carelessly flung it to him. 
 
 " Come/' he cried gaily to his companion, ri we 
 have travelled like the wind, but we have paid like 
 princes ! Look at this/' He pointed ahead. 
 
 They were at the entrance to the famous gardens of 
 the Anchorite. A great hall, lit up as brightly as 
 though it had been day, brought them to a fantastic 
 gateway ; and then, passing through a series of 
 folding-doors, they had suddenly issued out on the 
 gardens. The sight spread before them was like a scene 
 from the theatre. 
 
 To the right an immense glass-covered restaurant, 
 rilled with hundreds of people, pushed itself forward 
 much as if it had been placed there solely for spec- 
 tacular purposes. Being built high up — as if on a stage 
 — everything that passed within that glass house was 
 visible to the crowds without. The gleam of silver ; 
 the rapidly moving figures of servants ; the unending 
 
118 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 popping of corks ; the great hum of voices ; the 
 music in the air — all these things after the long, dark, 
 frantic drive tended to produce in Faulconbridge a 
 curious sensation of unreality. He studied the scene 
 in astonished silence. 
 
 Beneath the restaurant a great promenade, lined 
 with tall trees, was crowded with a heterogeneous mass 
 of humanity moving uneasily to and fro — a mass 
 sometimes stopping short for reasons hard to dis- 
 cover, and then as rapidly moving forward as if in an 
 effort to disperse. Every now and again a big bell 
 rang sharply from some hidden spot, and at once 
 numbers precipitated themselves in the direction of the 
 sound, throwing the promenading crowds into con- 
 fusion. In a dimmer lighting, under the trees, were 
 placed countless little iron tables which were begin- 
 ning to fill up rapidly. The music of several bands, dis- 
 tributed in various parts of the grounds, rose shrilly 
 and confusedly in the night air as if protesting that 
 their harmonies could never mix ; yet soon even this 
 discord failed to catch the ear. The greater noise of 
 the mobs of people seemed to swallow up everything. 
 
 Verdard led the way gaily forward with all the 
 assurance of an old habitue. 
 
 "It is not yet gay," he explained almost apolo- 
 getically, " but you must have patience. At two or 
 three in the morning it livens up, though many do not 
 arrive until four. These Russians are immense — at 
 times. You will see how they understand high 
 living." 
 
 Now he took off his hat in order the better to enjoy 
 the fresh night air. He took off his hat with the air of 
 a man who has come at last to his own — to something 
 that satisfies him. His gestures became larger, more 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 119 
 
 expansive. In the midst of all this inordinate gaiety 
 he felt as dashing and as brilliant as the hero of Beau- 
 marchais' immortal creation — and just as capable of 
 remarkable exploits. The pleasure of anticipation 
 once more possessed him ; for a few brief moments the 
 ugly shadow of realization had fled. 
 
 A bell clanged sharply and quickly for a few seconds, 
 and then ceased as suddenly as it had commenced. 
 
 " Let us see what they have to offer us in the way 
 of performance/' cried Verdard gaily, laying his hand 
 on his companion's sleeve. "It is very well arranged 
 here. Distributed all round the grounds are little 
 open-air theatres. The bell rings — the people precipi- 
 tate themselves. If you stand, you pay nothing ; if 
 you sit, it may cost you a rouble, or even ten ! What 
 a pack of people," he concluded. 
 
 A tall, handsome woman had suddenly moved across 
 their path, and now murmured something. 
 
 " Elle est amoureuse," translated Verdard, with a 
 wicked smile ; " and she does not blush to tell you so. 
 Come on, come on, we have other fish to fry." 
 
 Among the trees they came on a little painted stage 
 on which singers had appeared dressed in some old- 
 time dress of Muscovy. They were singing a pre- 
 liminary chorus full of strange, wistful harmonies, 
 which sounded more like a chant than a folk-song — 
 which seemed full of great distances and leaden skies 
 and the fatigue of a monotonous existence. Then when 
 they had finished, one of them announced what was 
 to follow. 
 
 There was a short interval, during which the crowd 
 talked loudly and indifferently, mixing much laughter 
 with their comments, and shifting uneasily to and fro. 
 It seemed impossible in that electrical atmosphere for 
 
120 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 anyone to stand still for a moment — it seemed that 
 perpetual motion was the only tranquillizer. 
 
 For some reason Faulconbridge watched with bated 
 breath. 
 
 The miniature orchestra, sitting beneath the stage, 
 had now commenced to play again. Then suddenly 
 there was the vociferous applause which greets a well- 
 known favourite. 
 
 He was badly placed — he could not see at once 
 what had happened. The thing dawned on him only 
 gradually. The lithe figure of a girl, clad in pink, had 
 bounded on to the stage. With a few graceful acknow- 
 ledgments she began quickly singing. But as he 
 heard the voice — he violently pushed aside some 
 people who were obstructing his view. He did not 
 even hear their protests, or see their angry looks — his 
 heart was in too great a ferment for that. He felt the 
 colour stain his face in wave after wave of emotion as 
 he realized what had happened. 
 
 It was Sasha — Sasha singing here. . . . 
 
 He hardly heard or saw her — it all became curiously 
 mixed for him. He was only vaguely conscious that 
 her young voice once again sounded as sweet as a 
 nightingale's song — that clad in her short pink skirt, 
 with pink roses almost covering her bare shoulders and 
 her graceful arms phrasing the melody, she looked like 
 an opening rosebud. She sang as a bird sings ; with 
 no effort at all ; with whole-hearted enjoyment. She 
 was charming to listen to ; and the crowd, with the 
 great delight of a music-loving people, murmured its 
 approval of the graceful melody. 
 
 He continued to gaze as in a dream. She was 
 always surprising him — she would always surprise him 
 to the end of the chapter. He had never expected 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 121 
 
 anything like this. . . . Was it strange that his 
 thoughts became more incoherent than they had 
 ever before ? 
 
 It was not until the end of her song — when his own 
 surprise had become more subdued — that he became 
 conscious of another remarkable thing. An extra- 
 ordinary change had also come over his companion — 
 a change so extraordinary that he, at least, made no 
 effort at dissimulation. Briefly, Verdard was whisper- 
 ing to himself strings of oaths and exclamations ; he 
 was scowling and frowning ; he was wagging his head 
 first to one side and then to the other ; he was rubbing 
 his chin, then mopping his forehead, plainly thunder- 
 struck by the fair apparition on the stage. And just 
 then in the midst of a storm of applause the fair 
 apparition had bounded off. 
 
 Faulconbridge turned deliberately and looked 
 steadily into the Frenchman's eyes. He was deter- 
 mined to unravel without further delay a mystery 
 which seemed at every turn to grow greater. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he inquired ; " what is 
 the matter with you ? " 
 
 " The matter? " exclaimed the other, starting and 
 talking rapidly ; " what do you mean ? I do not 
 understand you. The matter with what ? " 
 
 Faulconbridge gave a short laugh ; he was irritated 
 with the man's clumsiness. 
 
 " You have the appearance of a man who is not 
 only badly surprised, but frightened," he said 
 bluntly. 
 
 " Surprised . . . surprised? No, no, it is only my 
 appreciation. She sings well — she is charming, is she 
 not ? Would you have a man not show some appre- 
 ciation ? How hot it is to-night. ..." 
 
122 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 He mopped his forehead vigorously, removing his 
 hat. 
 
 " You are trifling with me, though I admit that you 
 have the right to do that if it pleases you," said 
 Faulconbridge coldly. Then he continued — almost 
 menacingly : "I remember once being in the com- 
 pany of a man who had made one of those mistakes 
 which are so common nowadays — I mean in financial 
 matters. It was at the seaside — near the front door 
 of what he called his cottage — a house of a dozen 
 rooms. Two men approached and told him that he 
 was wanted — urgently, without a moment's delay. 
 I remember the manner in which his appreciation was 
 shown — it was peculiarly impressive. He mopped his 
 forehead, became hot and angry, turned his back on 
 me, declared it was nothing. You see, the symptoms 
 are familiar to me." 
 
 " Ah," said Verdard between his teeth, " that is 
 what you think ? " 
 
 Faulconbridge made no reply. Why had this man 
 been so strangely affected ? What did it mean ? He 
 could not say. Yet Faulconbridge felt curiously 
 alarmed, strangely apprehensive. He was like a player 
 whose game has become complicated by the appear- 
 ance of unforeseen cards. 
 
 Yet there was a clue of some importance. He must 
 make another effort. 
 
 " Well, do not let us get angry — perhaps it is all a 
 mistake," he remarked at length, after a long interval, 
 purposely shifting his ground, and thinking that he 
 had been too blunt. " You see, we associate certain 
 expressions with certain attitudes of mind, but if you 
 have nothing to tell me " 
 
 The Frenchman's answer was as sudden as it was 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 123 
 
 unexpected. He made a convulsive movement with 
 his hands : then, mastering himself, he grasped his 
 companion's arm in a friendly way, as if persuading 
 him away. 
 
 " We are observed," he whispered quickly and 
 quietly, " and this is no healthy neighbourhood just 
 now. Indeed, it is no time to talk or discuss things. 
 Follow me out of this crowd quickly, quietly. ... I 
 beg you not to argue. You will understand everything 
 presently." 
 
XII 
 
 VERDARD, even as he spoke, had not only 
 taken his companion firmly by the arm, but 
 now, with a few swift, strong movements, 
 which few would have suspected him capable of making, 
 he cleared a way through the dense throng and hastened 
 towards the restaurant with short, quick steps. 
 
 His ruddy face was glistening as though it had been 
 dipped in water ; his eyes were singularly bright ; his 
 jaw set firm. He had the air of a man who has escaped 
 a great danger, and who yet may have to face 
 more. 
 
 He did not speak — nor did his companion venture 
 to question him. Faulconbridge, indeed — with a 
 flash of intuition — suddenly understood that silence 
 would at last gain for him something which the 
 greatest eloquence might deny. All day he had sus- 
 pected that the strange mystery which seemed to 
 envelop the town in a mantle of emotions was some- 
 thing very real — something which was worth piercing 
 if he only knew how. At last, some definite knowledge 
 must be given him — he had only to remain silent to 
 hear. 
 
 Yet had he been able to pierce his companion's mind, 
 his confidence would not have been so firmly seated. 
 For the changeable Frenchman, even as he hastened 
 along, had begun reproaching himself for his lack of 
 reserve — for his spasm of childish fear. He wondered 
 
 124 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 125 
 
 endlessly how it must have sounded to his companion 
 to have him bursting out into alarm the way he had 
 done. For who was this man ? Why had he been so 
 interested in this girl ? What did it all mean ? Many 
 troubling questions tumbled through his mind to 
 which he could find no answers. The evening was in 
 some danger of becoming a comedy of errors. 
 
 " At last," he exclaimed with satisfaction as they 
 passed into the brilliantly lighted glass restaurant. 
 
 Now, with an air of authority, he beckoned to a 
 maitre d' hotel, and began exchanging some rapid re- 
 marks with him. The man protested that it was im- 
 possible to accommodate them — that every table not 
 actually occupied had long been reserved. Then 
 Verdard suddenly became angry, bent forward, 
 whispered and made an abrupt sign in the lingua 
 franca of the money-market. Just as a reed bends 
 before the wind, the other now bowed his head, shrugged 
 his shoulders, turned quickly and led them to a small 
 table in a corner. Faulconbridge, obedient to the neces- 
 sities of the situation, said not a word. 
 
 Verdard gave a sharp order, drew an immense hand- 
 kerchief from his pocket, employed it in a manner more 
 practical than polite, and suddenly began to speak. 
 
 "Have you ever been in open danger? " he in- 
 quired oddly enough, fixing his keen eyes on the 
 Englishman's face. 
 
 " Several times," answered the latter without en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 " Has anyone ever tried to kill you ? ' 
 
 " I would put it differently— I would say that I 
 know what it is to be nearly killed." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Verdard ; " ah, you know the 
 feeling ! It is very peculiar, is it not ?— so peculiar — so 
 
126 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 strange — little snakes crawling up one's back and then 
 crawling down again. . . . Brrh. ... It also resem- 
 bles — the mat de mer." 
 
 He allowed the waiter to pour out the sparkling 
 wine. Then he said abruptly : 
 
 " We are in danger — you for the good and ample 
 reason that you are with me. It is my danger — you 
 understand, of course, something purely affecting me 
 ■ — but danger is like a black cloud on the sky : it may 
 thicken, as if by a miracle, until there is nothing but 
 blackness and gloom for everyone, including the most 
 innocent. Oh, my poor friend, you are in extraordinary 
 danger, if you only knew." He stopped and pensively 
 sipped his glass. 
 
 Faulconbridge lighted a cigarette and inhaled the 
 smoke in that deep way which is said to be bad for the 
 lungs. He had made up his mind that any talking 
 which might be done must come from this man and 
 not from him ; it was essential for the success of his 
 plan that he should henceforth show not the slightest 
 trace of curiosity. He was not in the least bit inter- 
 ested in the fact that Verdard considered himself in 
 personal danger — he could scarcely imagine being pro- 
 foundly affected by what happened to him. But just 
 as all roads lead to Rome, so in this case did every- 
 thing lead back to her. ... He would have to accept 
 whatever he could find. 
 
 " Something is going to happen in this city within 
 a few days — perhaps within a few hours," began 
 Verdard again, after satisfying himself that he could 
 not be overheard. He leaned far forward across the 
 table. " Something is going to happen — grave, 
 terrible. I tell you this because I believe you to be a 
 man of honour." His eyes bulged with emotion. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 127 
 
 " Thank you for trusting me," said Faulconbridge, 
 again without enthusiasm. 
 
 " I lied to you just now in the gardens/' resumed 
 Verdard in the same intense manner, perhaps en- 
 couraged by the other's calm, " because I did not 
 know whether it would be wise to tell you the truth. 
 Believe me, my position is very difficult — extra- 
 ordinarily difficult. Even now I may not tell you too 
 much, but at least I need not lie. Certain doubts in 
 my mind have now been dispelled — I need not tell you 
 what they were. But I will tell you one thing : that 
 young chanteuse you asked me about belongs to the 
 dangerous organization called the Central Industrial 
 Organization, which is concerned with the uplifting of 
 the Russian people — really a revolutionary organiza- 
 tion. But it is not that which troubles me — it is that 
 she is also a spy." 
 
 "You said you had finished lying," observed 
 Faulconbridge, with some heat. He bit his lip in 
 vexation almost as soon as he had spoken, but it 
 was too late. 
 
 " Monsieur," retorted Verdard. Then he stopped : 
 he was choking with emotion. 
 
 There was a moment of silence ; the two men 
 measured one another over their glasses ; it was 
 difficult to say what might not have happened. 
 
 " You are hardly polite, Monsieur," resumed Ver- 
 dard after a very long pause, mopping his forehead with 
 his big handkerchief, and looking Faulconbridge silently 
 up and down. Yet the necessity to speak was greater 
 than his anger. " I greatly regret if I am disillusionizing 
 you, but facts are facts. I cannot enter into all the 
 details now, but something happened to me in Warsaw 
 six months ago which told me the truth. My papers 
 
128 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 were stolen — I was placed in great danger — I was 
 falsely accused, anything might have happened to me, 
 had not the Embassy intervened. I have the best of 
 reasons for believing that it was that young lady who 
 was responsible for my predicament. It is useless say- 
 ing more — I pass to something else. As we stood there 
 looking and discussing her, a small man came up be- 
 hind us. His name is Gavrilloff — he is detested and 
 feared by everybody. He is suspected of many things 
 — he is always about when there is trouble brewing. 
 He is a scoundrel who will do anything to win the 
 approval of his chiefs, whoever they niay be. He is a 
 devil — you understand ? It was time to move — for 
 though I have nothing to fear, I have tasted the 
 methods of this country once. It is enough for a life- 
 time. Man Dieu, you are not even listening ! " 
 
 It was true ; Faulconbridge, indeed, appeared lost in 
 thought. He was, in fact, grouping and regrouping 
 what he had just learnt. The mystery, instead of 
 clearing, seemed more profound than ever. It was de- 
 testable that she should be so involved with such people 
 — it was hateful that this man should be so familiar 
 with her name. Yet at all costs he must discover some- 
 thing further, something which would tell him the real 
 truth. Otherwise how would it ever be possible for 
 him to meet her again — to speak to her fairly and 
 frankly — to redeem the promise he had made ? 
 
 " I think I know the man, though you have not told 
 me why you should be so afraid of him," he said aloud, 
 after he had completed these unhappy reflections. 
 " He has a very heavy jowl — a beard, a scar over his 
 right eye. He habitually wears a yellow tie and his 
 notebook has a red cover. He is so at home at the 
 Gastropol that one might almost suspect him of living 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 129 
 
 there. In fact he entered the dining-room to-night 
 when that arrest was made. Am I right ? " 
 
 " The devil ! " exclaimed Verdard, bulging his eyes 
 once more in his curious mannerism. " The devil ! 
 You are an observer — a close observer." 
 
 Faulconbridge screwed up his face as if the smoke 
 from his cigarette had suddenly made his eyes 
 smart. 
 
 " Perhaps something in connection with the walking 
 post office brought him here," he said softly, firing a 
 shot at random. 
 
 It went home — judging by the effect it produced. 
 Verdard had turned pale. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he said roughly. " Who are you ? 
 . . . There has been enough of this obscurity — of 
 this beating about the bush. Let us understand each 
 other, Monsieur, at once. It has become essential." 
 
 Verdard glared. His mind had leaped automatically 
 to the scene they had both witnessed in the hotel 
 dining-room ; since the mind always turns to the fear- 
 ful when fear gains control. Would there be a repetition 
 of that scene here ? he asked himself. . . . He clenched 
 his fists, and his great paunch heaved in his agitation. 
 
 Faulconbridge enjoyed his consternation for a few 
 seconds ; he had begun to dislike the man, and he was 
 glad that he was being punished in this particular 
 way. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he remarked a little contemptu- 
 ously, " you are in danger of being absurd with your 
 constant suspiciousness. When a man has nothing 
 to do and uses his eyes, even in a country where his 
 ears are of little value, it is astonishing how much may 
 be picked up. Already I know enough to fill a book — 
 a big book, one might almost say ! " He laughed 
 
 9 
 
130 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 softly again, satisfied that at last he had gained a 
 subtle advantage over the other which would remain 
 with him. 
 
 But Verdard was now only thinking of his personal 
 safety — he had forgotten everything else. Ugly 
 phantoms seemed to fill the air — the prospect was 
 dreadful. Leaning across the table, he laid a hand on 
 Faulconbridge's sleeve. 
 
 " Monsieur," he said earnestly, almost piteously, 
 " swear to me that you are an honest man and I will 
 believe you. Monsieur, confidence for confidence, you 
 owe it to me — I have placed my safety in your hands. 
 You cannot be so cruel as to torture me in this cursed 
 country of spies and exiles and traitors. You do not 
 know this country, I say." 
 
 " So far as my knowledge goes I am most honest," 
 rejoined Faulconbridge, as he was bidden. 
 
 He smiled ironically as he surveyed the unending 
 stream of doubtful people now promenading in the 
 cold white light of the arc -lamps, this strange world 
 which he did not know : he smiled ironically as he 
 wondered what honesty really meant just here. The 
 flashing eyes of the women gave peculiar point to the 
 babel of voices and to the unending peals of laughter 
 which were swept up in great waves of sound to where 
 they sat. The gardens of the Anchorite were living up 
 to their reputation to-night ; the hilarity was growing 
 apace as the small hours approached and angels them- 
 selves might have been corrupted. Yes, he was prob- 
 ably super-honest — judged in these surroundings, 
 though he might be counted a miserable sinner in the 
 company of saints. 
 
 Meanwhile Verdard watched him in mingled doubt 
 and wonder. This man was beyond him — quite be- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 131 
 
 yond him. In all his many peregrinations he had never 
 met this type before — not only could he not understand 
 him, but he could not in the least explain him — which 
 was much more to the point. The curious combination 
 of indifference and interest to which he had been 
 treated did not delight him. It revived in him all 
 sorts of fears. 
 
 He sat there tongue-tied. He began to fear that 
 he had committed a tremendous imprudence, not only 
 in being so expansive, but in coming abroad at such a 
 time with such a man. It would certainly end by lead- 
 ing him into some impasse — in committing him to 
 some course of action which he would not dream of 
 taking alone. He began to be something more than 
 vaguely afraid. 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dim" he muttered angrily and in- 
 consequentially, finding but little relief in this medley 
 of thoughts. 
 
 He knew that he should apply his mind without 
 delay to the problem of finding the safest way of leaving 
 the gardens which he had so extolled — yet he seemed 
 to have lost his will-power : to be unable to act. This 
 brute of an Englishman, who did not seem to appreciate 
 in the slightest the complexities of the situation, why 
 was he so fascinated by him ? Was he drunk with a 
 few glasses of champagne and a few hours of excite- 
 ment ? It was impossible to think coherently in such 
 a din of cursed women's voices. 
 
 He looked at his watch ; it was two o'clock — two 
 o'clock in the morning. Who was that cursed little man 
 really watching ? If it were nobody but himself he 
 would sit here until daybreak and defeat any devilish- 
 ness he might have in store by wearing him out. 
 Wretched Russia — it was no place for civilized men. 
 
132 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 With yet another oath he put his watch back in his 
 pocket. 
 
 Faulconbridge had noted his action ; now he stifled 
 a yawn. 
 
 " I was just wondering if you were thinking of ever 
 going home ? It is curious, but the gaiety of this 
 place begins to depress me. In ten minutes I shall 
 g — i have had enough. Are you coming, too ? ' 
 
 He looked thoughtfully at his companion, wondering 
 what had come over him. He would get nothing more 
 out of him just now — he must content himself with 
 what he had already heard. Verdard's eyes were 
 certainly bloodshot, and his ruddy cheeks appeared 
 in the garish lighting almost as if they had been 
 stained with vermilion. 
 
 " Let us have another bottle," suggested the man in 
 a dull voice. 
 
 " No," said Faulconbridge very decidedly. " No. 
 
 No. . . ." 
 
 He drew his cigarette-case from his pocket, took out 
 the very last cigarette which remained with elaborate 
 care, then very deliberately lit a match. 
 
 He sat watching his hand for a perceptible interval, 
 as if it had assumed a special interest in his eyes, 
 because there was nothing else to claim his attention ; 
 then, with a satisfied smile, he slowly drew in the 
 cigarette-smoke. His hand was still as steady as a 
 rock. 
 
 He stood up. 
 
 "Now I am going home," he said very politely; 
 " and it seems to me in the particular circumstances 
 of the night that it would be wise if you came back 
 in my company." 
 
 " Very good," assented Verdard, with that curious 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 133 
 
 vagueness which too much wine brings to some. " It 
 is a good idea — splendid." 
 
 He watched his companion throw some notes on the 
 table without understanding precisely what they 
 meant. He wondered why he had been tempted to 
 drink so much. Slowly and awkwardly he followed 
 him out, staring stupidly around. 
 
 The hour of worst orgy was rapidly approaching. A 
 gross familiarity had grown up between men and women 
 in this great house of glass — the voices were louder, 
 sharper, rougher. Astounding incidents were the order of 
 the day: the waiters had become openly insolent, whilst 
 the orchestra played as if in mockery of God and man. 
 The conductor, a tall, handsome man with a small 
 black moustache and glittering eyes — famous in the 
 town for his unbroken sangfroid even when day began 
 to dawn — alone retained his iron composure ; and as 
 he saw the two strangers, so different in appearance, 
 pass out near by him a ghost of a smile flitted across his 
 pale face. The Russian pace was always too hot for 
 strangers — nobody but Russians could stand it. 
 
 " How delightfully fresh/' exclaimed Faulconbridge 
 as they came out into the open. 
 
 " Ouf," replied Verdard by way of reply, shivering 
 involuntarily. " Let us get a carriage and drive 
 quickly home — as quickly as we came." 
 
 Yet that was easier said than done. They tried 
 driver after driver — all were engaged — all blankly 
 refused to stir for any sum. It was too late, they were 
 told : they should never have committed the impru- 
 dence of sending away the carriage in which they had 
 come. 
 
 " There is nothing for it, then ; I suppose we shall 
 have to walk," remarked Faulconbridge at last. 
 
134 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " Walk — are you mad ? It is several miles ! " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " It will take hours." 
 
 " But we cannot stay here — what are we going to 
 do ? Nearer the town we may meet something. It 
 will do you good. Come." 
 
 Laughingly he seized the Frenchman by the arm, 
 and a little against his will pulled him along. 
 
 "It is a mad thing," protested Verdard, and then 
 he walked forward a little unsteadily. What was there 
 to do, when he was pulled along ? 
 
 But they had hardly left the brilliantly lighted 
 neighbourhood of the gardens when down the roadway 
 a faint tongue of fire spat out, followed by a sharp 
 report — then again and again and again — four times 
 in all. There was a muffled cry, and then silence. 
 
 " Run back, run back," shouted Verdard, turning 
 at once, and preparing to do as much. 
 
 Faulconbridge did not trouble to answer, indeed 
 there was hardly any need, since his back had already 
 done that. For as fast as his great legs could carry 
 him he was rushing down the roadway into the dark- 
 ness — into the danger. 
 
 For a moment Verdard, already in retreat, hesitated. 
 Then, with a fierce military oath, he suddenly and 
 unaccountably turned and blindly followed — as quickly 
 as his great bulk would allow. 
 
F 
 
 XIII 
 
 AULCONBRIDGE ran on without any thought 
 i of personal danger — he ran looking eagerly 
 
 ahead at the dark shadows, merely wondering 
 what he was destined to discover. It was character- 
 istic of the man that although he had spent the even- 
 ing in an atmosphere curiously suggestive of grim 
 possibilities, although he began to understand that 
 it was nothing less than revolution which was in the 
 air, no sooner did he hear a call to action than he 
 responded as blindly as does a seasoned charger who 
 hears the trumpets sound. A joyousness even swept 
 up in him as he ran — he felt that fierce exultation 
 which some few still feel in a placid age in the face 
 of unknown dangers. So he ran on and on down the 
 road, merely wondering a little why the country should 
 suddenly seem so grim and silent and deserted — and 
 who it was that had discharged firearms, and who had 
 cried so piteously ; never thinking at all that he 
 might be putting his own hard head into a lion's den. 
 It was farther than he had judged — much farther ; 
 for he had begun to feel the effects of this sharp 
 exercise, and to question whether he could keep up 
 the pace, when suddenly, a little way off the main 
 road, he saw the dark outline of a motionless carriage. 
 Without a thought of caution he plunged on, and 
 with a few more rapid strides had pulled up panting 
 alongside it. 
 
 i35 
 
136 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " Hullo," he exclaimed to the silence around him. 
 " Hullo," he said again. Then he whistled softly to 
 himself as he understood something of the tragedy 
 which had occurred. " Poor devil, poor devil," he 
 muttered pityingly. 
 
 One of the three horses harnessed to the carriage 
 was down on the ground, shot through and through — 
 its hind-legs still spasmodically jerking. As he spoke 
 the others, frightened to death, had begun plunging 
 madly once more, vainly attempting to free them- 
 selves from the network of the twisted traces and the 
 dead- weight of their fallen comrade. 
 
 The driver's box was untenanted — the hood of the 
 carriage was up. Now Faulconbridge sprang on the 
 step, and quickly he looked in — but only tofind that this 
 covering hid no passengers. One thing, and one thing 
 only, was unmistakably plain — that every living soul 
 had miraculously vanished. 
 
 " This is interesting but obscure," he murmured to 
 himself. 
 
 He took off his hat and passed his handkerchief 
 over his forehead. He realized for the first time that 
 his run had made him very hot and tired ; and now 
 that it all appeared to have been in vain, he felt in- 
 clined to be angry with his spontaneous quixotism. 
 
 He tried to reason it out — to account both for what 
 had taken place and for this peculiar silence. It seemed 
 to him that it could only be some common vendetta — 
 a vendetta of a kind which plainly interested nobody 
 — otherwise others would have rushed here also. He 
 began to think he had been a sorry fool for his pains — 
 to regret his precipitancy ; then almost immediately, 
 unwilling to confess himself baffled, with strange in- 
 consistency, he angrily wondered whither all the actors 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 137 
 
 in this grim scene had fled. It was impossible that 
 everybody should have vanished into space without 
 leaving a trace behind them — quite impossible ; and 
 so, now that he had completely recovered his breath, 
 he walked up to the driver's seat, and wrenching out 
 one of the carriage-lamps, turned the light slowly and 
 carefully on to the body of the carriage. 
 
 What he saw caused him to frown, and banished 
 his rising annoyance. The ugly dark marks on the 
 white cloth cover were bad enough, but on the floor 
 of the carriage was worse — little pools of blood — as if 
 the victim had been shot to pieces. 
 
 " Cursed brutes," he muttered again, beginning to 
 throw the light on the road. " This has been a clean 
 job — a devil's job." 
 
 Before he had realized what he was doing he found 
 himself going forward, following up slowly, step by 
 step, lamp in hand, the spots of blood on the white 
 road. 
 
 He had not gone more than a dozen yards before a 
 sound of heavy footsteps caught his ear. 
 
 " Hullo," came Verdard's voice in a sullen roar, 
 " ullo, 'ullo." 
 
 " Is that you ? " Faulconbridge called back. He 
 paused for an instant with a smile on his face. " I 
 thought you had gone back for help. Hurry up — 
 there is no time to lose." 
 
 " No time to lose ! " The fat Frenchman exploded 
 into oaths as half running, half walking, he staggered 
 up. " It will be nobody's fault if I suffocate — I, who 
 have not run for years. . . . Wait an instant — wait, 
 I say, I am suffocating." 
 
 He was, indeed, panting with the noise of a steam- 
 engine ; panting and then heaving great sighs as if 
 
138 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 his heart would break. Every now and again, when 
 he found enough breath to do so, he broke out into 
 fierce military oaths, only to cease in the very middle 
 and to resume his heart-breaking panting. There 
 he stood, with his mouth open and his tongue 
 lolling out, the exaggerated embodiment of physical 
 distress. 
 
 The scene was so extraordinarily comical that 
 Faulconbridge could not contain himself. His laughter 
 only died away when he remembered the quest on 
 which he was engaged. Then he turned. 
 
 " You will feel better in a minute," he remarked 
 as he went on. " Wait here until you have got your 
 wind again." 
 
 For reply the Frenchman suddenly took his hat 
 from his head and threw it violently on the ground as 
 if to give vent to his anger. 
 
 " Ah," he exclaimed, " if I do not stop panting 
 soon I feel I shall burst — burst, burst, burst. . . . 
 Nom de nom de Dieu. ..." And saying which he 
 marched to the sloping grass bank of the country road 
 and let himself drop to the ground as if he had been a 
 mere sack of flour. " Cursed brutes, to induce respect- 
 able people to run — I shall never run again, I swear, 
 no, not for fifty murders." 
 
 He went on mumbling to himself. He had for- 
 gotten all his fear and the reason he had rushed hither 
 — he had forgotten everything in the immense distress 
 which had come over him. The sight of the motionless 
 carriage and the plunging horses awakened no curiosity 
 in him — he wished only to refill his depleted lungs. 
 Oh ! the pain of his breathing. . . . From the 
 distance Faulconbridge's voice came back once 
 more : 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 139 
 
 " If you see or hear anything, shout your loudest — I 
 am following up the trail." 
 
 " Follow up the devil," he muttered to himself. 
 " You come to this country and imagine life is a joke, 
 as it has been for you elsewhere. A joke ! Poor fool ! 
 I will teach you something, my fine gentleman, I 
 promise you, before I have finished. . . . Mon Dieu — 
 he is following up a trail — what does he think that 
 means? " 
 
 Verdard looked at the carriage and the entangled 
 
 horses. 
 
 " Well, well," he mumbled aloud once more, because 
 talking seemed to give him relief, " the usual tragedy. 
 Somebody has been shot for reasons of jealousy, and 
 then the coachman and the murderer cunningly carry 
 off the body. I see it all from here — it has been a case 
 of connivance. And to think that I took the trouble 
 of running nearly one whole kilometer — or was it a 
 thousand ? — in order to see it quickly ! What a fool, 
 what a fool ! " 
 
 He gave a short, derisive laugh, and sat silent. Then 
 at last somewhat comforted, scrambling to his feet, 
 he walked a little unsteadily forward to pick up the hat 
 which he had so unceremoniously discarded. 
 
 As he bent down his foot struck against something 
 hard. Instead of recovering his hat, he fumbled about 
 on the ground until he had picked up this other object 
 which suddenly interested him much more. It was 
 too dark to be quite sure what it was, but his sense 
 of touch told him enough to make him hurry up to the 
 remaining carriage-lamp. 
 
 He whistled very loudly to himself as his eyes con- 
 firmed his suspicions. 
 
 " Ho, ho," he exclaimed, beginning to examine his 
 
140 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 find very carefully. " It was a woman — it was a 
 woman — the eternal woman ! There was a woman in 
 the case. Certainly I did not think of that ! " 
 
 He turned and twisted the gold bracelet -watch in 
 his hands as if trying to extract its secret by this 
 gluttonous curiosity ; then, seized with a new idea, 
 he forced open the back of the watch, and peered in. 
 Under a diminutive coat of arms he now managed to 
 decipher a name in Russian, and underneath that — 
 Paris and a date in French. . . . Now he stood 
 with his mouth open, the picture of surprise and 
 alarm. 
 
 " Verdard, Verdard," came Faulconbridge's voice, 
 much more distantly than it had sounded before ; 
 " Verdard, Verdard, come here. I have found a 
 wounded man." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I am coming," the Frenchman managed 
 to answer, though he was so overwhelmed. " I am 
 coming as quickly as I can." 
 
 He slipped the bracelet into his pocket and then 
 picked up his hat. When he went forward he did so 
 very slowly and reluctantly — with open fear in his 
 manner. 
 
 "Where are you?" he called presently. 
 
 " In the bushes up here — follow the light," came 
 the reply not very distinctly. For Faulconbridge was 
 bending over the wounded man he had found, and 
 having stanched the bleeding as best he could, was 
 listening to the poor man's heart, and wondering 
 whether he was mortally wounded, and who had 
 carried him here, and why he had been so suddenly 
 abandoned. The victim lay very stiffly on his back — 
 his face as pale as death, his blond beard making 
 him appear in the cold white light of the carriage- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 141 
 
 lamp even more spectral than he would have been 
 had he been a dark man. 
 
 As he heard his companion approach, Faulconbridge 
 shifted the carriage-lamp a little so as to throw the 
 light on the wounds. 
 
 "Do you know anything about surgery? " he said, 
 turning on Verdard roughly. He was more than 
 displeased with him for what he thought his callous- 
 ness — his wholly selfish attitude. He looked at him 
 sternly and reprovingly. 
 
 " I knew once how to handle a knife in many ways." 
 Verdard laughed abruptly as he thought of his kitchen 
 days, and then scratched his chin. " But a wounded 
 man is a little different from a wounded rabbit. Still, 
 there are things that one can do." 
 
 He came up more quickly now. He was just pre- 
 paring to kneel down beside the fallen man, when he 
 stopped short and gave a half-suppressed cry. 
 
 "It is impossible," he exclaimed again and again. 
 " It is impossible, impossible, impossible. . . .*' Then 
 he added in a faltering voice : " It is the Baron 
 Vonnergrot, dying perhaps. Baron Vonnergrot, my 
 friend ! Only a few hours ago I saw him at the hotel — 
 I was talking to him, exchanging confidences with him, 
 expecting to meet him soon again, but never, never 
 like this. . . . Who would have suspected it— who 
 would have suspected it ? Ah, what does this mean — 
 what does this mean ? " 
 
 He had dropped to his knees as he talked on madly 
 enough, and now, penknife in hand, he began hastily 
 ripping away the wounded man's clothing. 
 
 Faulconbridge, once more overcome by astonish- 
 ment, stood there mutely. Now he was trying to re- 
 member something — something half buried at the 
 
142 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 back of his mind. As the other finished, suddenly it 
 came back to him. 
 
 " I have it at last," he exclaimed. " I knew I had 
 seen him before. Yes, I have it, of course ! He it is 
 who came out of the hotel and posted a letter in the 
 blind man's letter-box, and then went walking briskly 
 away not knowing that he had been watched. This 
 is the man, and no other." 
 
 V Your eyes are too keen," muttered Verdard, who 
 was now hard at work. " We shall have to stop your 
 seeing so much." 
 
 " What did you say ? ' inquired Faulconbridge 
 between his teeth. He had the end of his handker- 
 chief in his mouth and was beginning to tear it into 
 long strips. 
 
 " Nothing, save that the bleeding seems better." 
 
 " Good, we may yet save him. ... He is shot, as 
 you will observe, in three places." 
 
 " But only one place is of importance, there under 
 the ribs. Now let me feel " 
 
 They worked in silence for a number of minutes, 
 cutting away the shirt and ripping up the clothing, 
 and then beginning to dress the wounds as best they 
 could. They worked as all men work when their 
 pity has been aroused ; with something more than the 
 mere tenderness of women — with awe in their manner 
 — because men are simpler and more reverent than 
 women in the presence of the unknown, and never 
 dare to feel confident. 
 
 The prostrate man gave no sign of life. He lay 
 there peacefully with his sightless eyes looking up to 
 the merciful Heaven which seemed to have decreed 
 his last hour. With his arms stretched wide apart in 
 one great unmoving gesture, he lay there as if demand- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 143 
 
 ing pardon for all his sins, as if supplicating forgive- 
 ness for all that of which he might have been guilty 
 whilst his erring footsteps had wandered here below. 
 His blond beard, pointing straight upwards, did not 
 entirely conceal his pale lips, which remained slightly 
 parted as if they had just spoken and were breath- 
 lessly awaiting the appointed answer. In the silence 
 of the night, with only the cold stars watching, and a 
 faint breeze mystically rustling the bushes around 
 him, his was an enthralling figure for the philosophic 
 mind. 
 
 Suddenly Verdard sighed sentimentally. 
 
 " It is a strange fate," he murmured, " that should 
 make this poor gentleman suffer thus. What has he 
 done to deserve it all ? 
 
 "It is the fortune of war," replied Faulconbridge, 
 less emotionally, because he suspected the truth. 
 " When you play a dangerous game you must expect 
 others to take a hand." 
 
 "Oh, oh, dangerous game," grumbled Verdard, 
 frowning at him. " You use words you perhaps do not 
 understand. Will you kindly hold this ? Good. That 
 is better. It is all that we can do. Now the question 
 
 arises " He suddenly turned his head and then 
 
 stopped short. " Hush — cover the lamp — voices " 
 
 In the distance across the meadow, they saw a dim 
 movement and a flickering light. The movement was 
 manifestly in their direction, for the light was quickly 
 advancing. 
 
 " What are we to do ? " exclaimed Verdard in a 
 hoarse whisper, clutching hold of his companion's arm. 
 " We dare not remain." 
 
 " Hold your ground, man. Get up — stand over 
 there. I will meet them." 
 
144 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 He pushed the Frenchman to one side and went 
 forward a few steps — quickly, apprehensively. 
 
 There was, indeed, no time for more. For with the 
 rustle of a skirt came a startled cry, and then the truth 
 was out. 
 
 " Sasha," he exclaimed, " Sasha," recognizing her 
 in an instinctive flash, and yet hardly believing the 
 evidence of his eyes. 
 
 He stood there helplessly, as if utterly bewildered 
 by this new blow. It was always her, at every turning 
 of the day and night — always, always. . . . 
 
 But she was not heeding him. With a swift move- 
 ment she had thrown her arms round the man who 
 accompanied her and was calling wildly unknown 
 words to him in Russian. It was not a moment too 
 soon. A heavy bludgeon had been swung up in the 
 air ; in another second it would have crashed down on 
 Faulconbridge's devoted head. 
 
 " How wonderful, how wonderful," she exclaimed 
 as she turned to him. " Yes — it has become something 
 more than chance — it is Destiny, Fate. . . . Though 
 I did not send for you, you have come to my help." 
 She gave a little sob. " How did you come — how, 
 how is such a thing possible ? and is the poor man 
 better?" 
 
 She had fallen on her knees beside the prostrate 
 body without waiting for an answer. The loose cloak 
 round her shoulders fell open as she knelt, and now 
 Faulconbridge saw her white shoulders gleaming above 
 the pink of the same costume which she had worn a 
 few hours before when she had leaped so joyously on 
 to the little stage in the gardens of the Anchorite. 
 He looked at her kneeling there as if it were all a 
 dream. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 145 
 
 " Ivan, Ivan," she called commandingly, without 
 lifting her head. 
 
 Instinctively Faulconbridge lifted the light a little 
 higher as the person who had accompanied her came 
 forward. He could not repress another exclamation ; 
 the actors were, after all, very few. For it was the 
 very self-same man whom he had seen with the metal 
 alms-box in front of the hotel — the man who had 
 begged in the company of the little girl — the blind 
 man. But now — with the dark glasses removed — the 
 eyes looked out keenly enough from a face which, 
 though made dignified and patriarchal by the long 
 white beard, seemed full of energy and suspicion. 
 
 Without a word he handed his mistress a 
 small bundle which he h?d taken from under his 
 blouse. 
 
 " But you have already bandaged him — he begins to 
 stir," she was murmuring. " How did you do it — how 
 did you find him ? " 
 
 She looked up at the tall Englishman with wondering 
 eyes. 
 
 " It was very simple," he said, watching her hold 
 something to the stricken man's nostrils. " We heard 
 shots and a distant cry as we came from the Anchorite, 
 and, of course, we ran in this direction." 
 
 " We, you say we," she interrupted, almost starting 
 to her feet. There was new alarm in her manner — 
 something he did not understand. 
 
 " Yes, my friend and I." 
 
 " Your friend — your friend ? Where is your 
 friend ? " 
 
 Faulconbridge turned : he had almost forgotten 
 the Frenchman's existence. 
 
 " Monsieur Verdard, Monsieur Verdard," he called. 
 
 10 
 
146 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 At the sound of that name the girl rose to her feet 
 as if she had been stung. 
 
 " Where is this man ? " she asked haughtily. " Where 
 is this person ? " 
 
 She looked at Faulconbridge threateningly now— 
 with something in her manner which he had never 
 seen before. He remembered suddenly Verdard's 
 strange statements about her ; there was, indeed, 
 mystery upon mystery here, making the whole seem 
 unfathomable. 
 
 But Verdard had come suddenly forward from 
 behind the bushes where he had been standing. He 
 had heard everything that had passed ; and now that 
 the time for concealment had disappeared he boldly 
 assumed a new role. 
 
 " Good evening, Mademoiselle," he said, with his 
 hat in his hand, and in his politest manner. " Permit 
 me to restore to you the watch which you accidentally 
 dropped in your retreat from the carriage." 
 
 With the instinctive bow of a histrionic people he 
 handed her the bracelet. Then with a defiant air he 
 fell back a step or two. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this farce? " she asked, 
 just as haughtily, having taken the bracelet with a 
 curt nod of thanks. 
 
 " This farce, this farce ? " Verdard repeated the 
 words in a way which showed that he was really 
 mystified. 
 
 She stamped her foot in her growing chagrin. 
 
 " What have you to do with this gentleman ? How 
 came you here together ? Speak. It was no chance 
 that made you take him to the Anchorite." 
 
 She pointed with a swift movement to Faulcon- 
 bridge. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 147 
 
 Verdard, with the proverbial quickness of a 
 frightened man, read into what she said a deeper 
 meaning. Oh ! yes — to him it was very plain. She 
 assumed that he had been tampering with this English- 
 man — therefore she already reserved him for herself 
 by some strange process for some stranger purpose. 
 The way she had spoken before he had appeared 
 proved that. Yes, a hundred times. 
 
 It was difficult in two short seconds to make quite 
 sure of a dozen points, but his instinct had never yet 
 played him false. So he began speaking quickly and 
 easily : 
 
 " Chance — that blind goddess, Mademoiselle, threw 
 us together. Chance — about which you talked your- 
 self just now. How shall I explain ? We met at the 
 hotel in the midst of a great scene in the dining-room 
 of the hotel Gastropol ; we drove to the Anchorite 
 in search of — amusement. We had supper in the 
 glass restaurant ; we came out to return most peace- 
 fully home ; we found no carriage ; we commenced 
 walking — and then your disaster brought us here. 
 It is a story of few words, as you see." Having finished 
 he looked at her steadily enough. 
 
 " Is that true ? " she asked, plainly nonplussed, 
 turning to Faulconbridge. 
 
 " Yes," he said simply. 
 
 He was conscious that Verdard in some way had 
 fallen from his high estate, was really nothing but an 
 insignificant pawn in the game proceeding under his 
 eyes — in fact, was a bag of bluff ; and that this girl, 
 whom he had roundly accused of being a spy, was some- 
 thing very different. Faulconbridge could not see 
 meaning to it all ; but at least the outlines were 
 becoming clearer. 
 
148 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " It would be wise," he said, suddenly coming 
 back to the essential problem, " if we carried this 
 wounded gentleman without further delay to the 
 carriage and drove him to a surgeon." 
 
 Sasha shook her head. Already she was kneeling 
 beside him again. 
 
 ■' We will take him presently to a house near by, 
 but he must become conscious first. We must not 
 move him until he is better. What is that ? 
 
 A violent neigh had come from one of the unhurt 
 horses on the road ; and then suddenly both stamped 
 and plunged — only to become motionless again — as if 
 resigned to their fate. 
 
 " Poor animals. I wonder what has happened to the 
 rascally driver," said Faulconbridge. 
 
 " He ran — ran immediately he heard the first shot 
 and his horse fell. Coward — he is in Moscow by now ! " 
 Sasha's voice thrilled with indignation, but something 
 else claimed her attention. 
 
 The wounded man had suddenly stirred, and then 
 faintly moaned. 
 
 " Ah," she exclaimed, bending over him and pressing 
 his hand. " Brother, brother," she whispered very 
 gently. 
 
 " Sister, sister," he muttered faintly. 
 
 " Yes, it is I," she bent lower and commenced 
 whispering into his ear, her hand smoothing the hair 
 back from his forehead all the while. 
 
 Presently she rose very quietly and turned to 
 Faulconbridge. 
 
 " I think we can carry him," she said, " if we go 
 slowly and gently." 
 
A 
 
 XIV 
 
 LITTLE house, half hidden by tall poplars 
 so closely planted that they stood like serried 
 _ ranks of soldiery on guard, loomed up darkly 
 before the party as they slowly advanced carrying the 
 stricken man. 
 
 At the threshold stood a little girl. Faulconbridge 
 had no difficulty in recognizing her. It was the self- 
 same child who had accompanied the tall, white- 
 bearded man on his strange peregrinations with his 
 metal alms-box slung round his neck. She stood in 
 the blaze of light coming through the open door 
 shading her eyes with one hand ; and when she saw- 
 that all was well she gave a little cry of joy. 
 
 " You are already back, my baby," called Sasha in 
 her soft voice. 
 
 The child gave a laugh which broke into a sob, and 
 then the soft Slavonic syllables raced from her lips : 
 
 " Yes ; I ran all the way both going and returning 
 —I ran all the way as fast as I could. It was very 
 dark in many places. Twice I fell. ..." 
 
 She put her hands up to her little bosom to show 
 how it still affected her. 
 
 11 Poor baby," said Sasha caressingly, telling Faulcon- 
 bridge what had been said. " But is he coming soon— 
 at once ? " she inquired. 
 
 " He will be here immediately— as fast as he can 
 walk." The child held back the door as they carried 
 
 149 
 
150 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 in the wounded man. " I think I see him already. 
 Yes, it is he." She clapped her hands sharply, in a 
 peculiar way, which showed that it was a well-known 
 signal. 
 
 "It is the Malny doctor," said Sasha to Faulcon- 
 bridge in a low voice as they laid their burden on a 
 sofa, and they heard him speak outside. "He is our 
 doctor — a curious, faithful man whom you cannot help 
 loving as we all love him. Has it tired you carrying 
 him ? " 
 
 She looked at Faulconbridge deeply. There was the 
 same expression of pain and trouble in her eyes which 
 he had seen before. Yet now the expression seemed 
 much intensified ; there were lines on her white face 
 just as there was deep grief in her heart. A strange 
 metamorphosis was taking place which was changing 
 her almost beyond recognition — something subtle but 
 potent — something which baffled him as much as her 
 earlier inconsistencies had done. 
 
 " It was nothing for the two of us," he replied. ' I 
 could have carried him alone. He is not a heavy man." 
 
 " Yet you are strong," she rejoined thoughtfully. 
 " The lightest man is heavy when he lies like lead — 
 strength is a great thing — a useful thing." Then, 
 before he had time to reply, she turned and went 
 out to begin a rapid conversation with the new arrival, 
 who was slowly taking off a big black muffler which 
 almost entirely enveloped his head. 
 
 Faulconbridge, left to himself, looked round the 
 room with keen interest. He had hardly time yet to 
 find his bearings — to make up his mind as to what this 
 strange affray and this stranger meeting might really 
 mean. He did not know whether he should be sorry or 
 happy — whether he should regret a chain of circum- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 151 
 
 tances which could not be called entirely fortuitous. 
 Should he retreat before it was too late — or boldly follow 
 up an adventure which promised infinite variety ? 
 There was danger about, a vague, tantalizing sense of 
 danger, but that instead of repelling him deepened his 
 desire to probe this thing to the bottom. 
 
 The room was as mysterious as the rest had been. 
 It was hardly furnished at all ; it had a peculiar air 
 which seemed to proclaim that it was not habitually 
 lived in ; indeed, it seemed to him that it was a con- 
 venience, much as a station waiting-room is a conveni- 
 ence for those pausing to take breath before some 
 fresh flight. Yes — that must be it ; it was a room 
 adapted for meetings, for there were numbers of stools 
 piled in one corner and a very large table. Somebody 
 had brought in a samovar, which was now hissing and 
 bubbling ; and by it stood a jug of kvass, made of 
 juniper berries, with a row of glasses. 
 
 He looked around for the venerable white-bearded 
 man who had masqueraded with such tragic results as 
 a blind man and a beggar. But he had already dis- 
 appeared, and so had the little girl ; and now, save for 
 Verdard and the two talking together just outside the 
 door, he was alone with the wounded man. 
 
 The wounded man — who was this man ? 
 
 His eyes were now open, and these eyes seemed to 
 be wandering vaguely round the room as if unable to 
 understand what had occurred. Faulconbridge twice 
 took a step forward to speak to him — but each time 
 stopped short. No, he would not do it ; it was not 
 his business ; it would do no good. Besides, he might 
 not be even understood. Yet he was fairly tortured 
 to know who he was, and why Sasha had been with 
 him — and what she was to him. Yes — that above all 
 
152 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 other questions — what was she to him ? ... He would 
 have given much to be able to question her — only that 
 he was determined to show no such curiosity. And so 
 he stood torturing himself with unanswerable questions. 
 
 And Monsieur Verdard was doing quite a lot of un- 
 easy thinking, too. Still sombre and offended and very 
 much out of humour with the world, he stood silently 
 in his own corner of the room, observing and remaining 
 unobserved. With French quickness he had already 
 gauged much. Indeed, he smiled frequently and ironi- 
 cally to himself as he noticed Faulconbridge's concern, 
 and the manner in which he tried to hide it, and the 
 signal manner in which he failed. To Verdard it was 
 all as plain as if it had been written down — he had 
 discovered what he already called the Englishman's 
 secret. He was in love with this girl — so much so that 
 he had followed her to Moscow and was only waiting 
 for an opportunity to take her away with him. 
 
 Verdard wondered how he could turn that to his 
 own advantage — it was necessary to turn it to his own 
 advantage quickly. For now he realized more clearly 
 than he had ever done before that he — the bold con- 
 spirator — had run his course, and that with the Baron 
 wounded — perhaps even dying — hereafter the reckon- 
 ing would be openly against him. And there was still 
 the settling with this Polish girl. 
 
 With fresh interest he silently observed her, wonder- 
 ing if this Englishman were the weak spot in her armour 
 — if Verdard could have been certain of that he would 
 have been happier. When had she met this man ? 
 How had she met this man ? Who was this man ? Ah, 
 those were questions which he would dearly love to 
 have answered ! His position in this cursed country 
 was highly unenviable, he muttered. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 153 
 
 He watched her iling off with swift hands the lace 
 mantilla round her head, and the cloak from her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " In a minute everything will be ready. Talk to 
 one another whilst I am away/' she cried, as she darted 
 off. And as she disappeared the doctor came quietly 
 forward. 
 
 " Good evening, sir," he said in perfect English to 
 Faulconbridge, only bowing very slightly to Verdard. 
 It was evident that the doctor was very much at home 
 in this room, and that everything had been fully ex- 
 plained to him. He came forward in a strangely 
 courteous manner, still holding his little black bag in 
 one hand ; the other he held out in a very friendly way. 
 
 " I hope you will find this case not so very desper- 
 ate," said Faulconbridge, studying him keenly. 
 
 The doctor smiled in a kindly manner. He had a full 
 brown beard and wore glasses, and there was that about 
 him which won instant confidence. 
 
 " Bullet wounds, bullet wounds. I have seen so 
 many ! If they are dangerous their work is quickly 
 accomplished. If, on the other hand, the vital parts 
 are uninjured, they are nothing at all. No — really 
 nothing. I could tell you some strange stories of men 
 shot to pieces who have lived to laugh over their cruel 
 experiences ! " 
 
 He threw open his little bag, and with a few rapid 
 movements laid out his instruments on the table. 
 Then he took off his own coat, rolled up his sleeves, 
 put on a white apron, and commenced washing his 
 hands in the contents of a large bottle he had brought 
 with him. His manner was somehow that of a surgeon 
 on a field of battle rather than that of a doctor in a 
 very plain little dwelling-house. 
 
154 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " Now," he said briskly, " let me examine our friend. 
 It is necessary to have all the light possible ; sir, will 
 you kindly hold that lamp — very steadily ? Thank 
 you." Then they settled down to the job — the wounded 
 man closing his eyes, and lying as still as death, and 
 never breathing a word. 
 
 In less than half an hour the doctor had finished, 
 and was packing up his case. 
 
 " It is nothing," he said in his gentle way. " Those 
 bullets were fired from an old-fashioned pocket revolver 
 of no value — a very stupid firearm. He may have a 
 little fever, but the wounds are of no importance — 
 it was the bleeding that caused all the trouble. You 
 see, the human body is tough, and can stand much if 
 you do not bleed too much. Do you know that a 
 man can stand worse wounds than a horse ? I have 
 seen men so shot that it seemed cruel to try to make 
 them live. And yet they lived, perhaps because in 
 Russia there is so much to do. So much to do," he 
 repeated softly, dwelling on the words with dreamy 
 insistence. 
 
 Then quickly he turned. 
 
 '■' You must get your patient upstairs," he said, still 
 in English, to Sasha, who was standing there deep in 
 thought, " and he must be left alone in perfect quiet 
 for as long as possible. As for these gentlemen, there 
 is nothing more for them to do." The doctor looked at 
 Sasha meaningly. 
 
 " It is almost day," she said at once to Faulcon- 
 bridge, " and if you continue down the road which 
 runs straight to the left you will soon meet a cariage. 
 How can I thank you. Now go." 
 
 She held out a hand, let him hold it for an instant, 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 155 
 
 looked at him meaningly, and then, turning quickly, 
 began giving orders in Russian. 
 
 Faulconbridge did not remember until he was out- 
 side in the passage-way that Verdard had mysteriously 
 disappeared without so much as saying a word to him. 
 Well, after all that had happened, perhaps that was 
 not so very strange. . . . 
 
 Hidden behind the poplars, making his small frame 
 so small that the sharpest eye could scarcely have de- 
 tected him, absolutely motionless — like a wild animal 
 in his lair — lay Gavrilloff, the small, ugly man who was 
 so ubiquitous. 
 
 There was a vague, strange smile on his lips, a smile 
 which would have certainly conveyed whole worlds of 
 meaning to anyone who had known in all its detail 
 his curious chequered past, his rapid changes of fortune, 
 his leaps from ignominy to affluence, and then from 
 affluence back to ignominy again. The smile on his 
 face now seemed to say that he had at last seen 
 Fortune suddenly draw so near that he only required 
 to stretch out his hand to grasp her — to hold the jade 
 tight in his hand, and to do with her as he willed. . . . 
 If he managed this thing by himself — if he accounted 
 for all of them, one by one, in the next few days — 
 what might he not claim for reward ? 
 
 Yet there was more in that smile. It was the smile 
 of a man of evil instincts — a man whose appetite has 
 been aroused and who craves more of the food on which 
 he has cruelly fed himself. It was the smile of a viler 
 Robespierre — that incarnation of so-called mystical 
 exaltation which is the lowest kind of human exulta- 
 tion ; the smile of the cruel devil who only lost his 
 laugh by a stroke of that same implacable knife which 
 
156 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 had taken so many other heads from trembling 
 shoulders because of his decrees. 
 
 Gavrillofi had shot the poor dreamer — had shot him 
 to kill. Yet now he was more pleased than he would 
 have been had his victim lain stone dead — he was sure 
 from the manner in which the stricken man had been 
 carried that he was no more than severely wounded. 
 He had shot him because he was authorized to perform 
 such acts — whenever he had proofs to satisfy his 
 chiefs, which really meant whenever he could act with 
 such prudence as to cause no public scandal. With 
 him there never was any public scandal ; his poor 
 victims were only too glad to lie forgotten. He had 
 planned this particular stroke with audacity and cun- 
 ning. And he had struck so swiftly that nobody could 
 have done more than suspect who had been the assassin. 
 
 He smiled more deeply as he thought of that — it had 
 been beautifully done on the spur of the moment with 
 his trusty old revolver. He had picked off the nearest 
 horse, brought the carriage to a standstill, and then 
 shot his man three times at his ease from behind a 
 bush not ten feet away. He had been minded to give 
 the girl one chamber of his revolver as she had flung 
 her arms round her companion, only that he needed 
 her for his other plans. Just now to have disposed of 
 her would have brought small credit — a more pressing 
 occasion would mean greater glory. . . . 
 
 They were sorry fools, he said to himself, with his 
 smile deepening, to use girls so much : if he had the 
 direction of a big cause he would not have a single 
 woman mixed up in it. They were too emotional — 
 always giving way to impulse ! Fancy, throwing her 
 arms round a living target. . . . 
 
 As he lay there with the dawn creeping down upon 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 157 
 
 him he saw the tall Englishman come out of the house — 
 the Englishman he had so cleverly suspected at the 
 very beginning. He saw him come out and walk slowly, 
 as if he were deep in thought. He passed so close to 
 him that he could have shot him down with the ease 
 with which a hunter picks off a grazing deer that 
 suddenly stands still and exposes his whole flank. It 
 reminded him of a scene years ago in Turkestan — on 
 the rocks — when he had let a Kurd pass by him like 
 that right under the very muzzle of his infantryman's 
 rifle, so that he might capture him and let the camp 
 hang the man and then cut off his head. This man 
 was just as safe — so long as they never lost sight of 
 the girl. That was the key — the girl. . . . 
 
 He lay quietly there for some minutes longer to 
 make sure that no fresh developments, which would 
 throw fresh light on these people, would take place. 
 Then, convinced that this act had been played out — 
 that there was nothing more to detain him — he got 
 slowly up, stretched himself, yawned, and slipped away. 
 It was time to sleep. . . . 
 
 Day had come — a solemn, peaceful light flooded the 
 green woods ; and the birds, calling to one another in 
 sudden joyful notes, had begun to fly away slowly and 
 heavily in search of food. . . . 
 
XV 
 
 IN the little house new developments were in 
 progress — remarkable enough to students of cause 
 and effect. 
 
 " Now that everything is in order," Sasha had ex- 
 claimed, no sooner had the door closed on Faulcon- 
 bridge, " I wish you, dear doctor, to be present at a 
 little interview which has become necessary." 
 
 The doctor was drying his hands on a towel, which did 
 not greatly delight him, to judge by the expression on 
 his face. When he had finished with it he threw it 
 under the table with a gesture of contempt. 
 
 " It is a pity that cleanliness is not more generally 
 understood in our beloved country. Dirt, dirt, dirt," 
 he remarked grumblingly, and yet rather cheerfully. 
 Then he took out his cigarette-case, and lighting 
 another of his eternal cigarettes, inhaled deeply several 
 times. " What has Verdard done this time ? " he in- 
 quired suddenly and sharply, showing that he had 
 been waiting for this. 
 
 The girl flushed with strong emotion, and then, 
 yielding to an uncontrollable impulse, stamped her 
 foot. 
 
 " The man is a fool," she exclaimed hotly. " He is 
 a clumsy fool, too — always doing the wrong thing — 
 always blundering into some one of us on purpose. 
 That is to say, I do not think he is a simple fool, but 
 a malicious fool. Sergei should never have employed 
 
 158 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 159 
 
 him — even if he has proved useful with these importa- 
 tions across the frontier. Foreigners are always dis- 
 appointing." 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders with Slavonic 
 expressiveness, and then smiled his singularly sweet 
 smile. 
 
 " The human race is much more to be pitied than 
 condemned — if we only knew it. We are not fools 
 because we like being fools, but because it is natural 
 to us. You are too severe, Alexandra Alexandrovna ; 
 you are exactly like your poor father. I remember on 
 one occasion he beat a young coachman so badly that 
 it took me two weeks to cure him. And then we found 
 out, when the poor fellow could speak, that it was 
 really the wrong man ! How I laughed ! I was very 
 young. The years have gone by since then — faster 
 and faster and faster. Dear me, you must not be too 
 much like your poor father, Alexandra Alexandrovna, 
 
 not too impetuous " He stopped abruptly and 
 
 went to the window. "It is already dawn, and the 
 day will be beautiful/' he murmured. 
 
 Upstairs Verdard was waiting for them, as they 
 exchanged these remarks, and his mood was not 
 pleasant. He owed no obedience to these people, he 
 angrily said to himself, trying to muster up sufficient 
 resolution to leave the house, and yet restrained by 
 a natural cautiousness — and a growing sense of danger. 
 
 He recognized that he had acted clumsily ever since 
 he had accidentally found the gold bracelet lying 
 on the road : he should have gone away wiih that in 
 his pocket and left the foolish Englishman to make 
 what he could of the business alone. But something 
 had for a few moments got the better of his caution 
 — and he was being well repaid ! He was sure it 
 
160 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 was the wine he had drunk which had betrayed him ; 
 he had been guilty of follies that night which seemed 
 to him already quite incredible. 
 
 Why was this devilish Polish girl in Moscow at this 
 juncture ? He could not imagine — he had no idea. 
 Yet he was sure of one thing : had he but known of 
 her presence he would never have been so expansive 
 with the Baron — volunteering to face danger the way 
 he had done. He would have gone quietly back to the 
 frontier, and waited for instructions after the pre- 
 scribed plan. He would get the worst of it in any 
 contest with her, he felt sure. She could twist the 
 Baron round her little finger — otherwise he would not 
 have been such a fool as to be caught as he had been 
 in the small hours of the morning on a lonely road. 
 What could the Baron see in this girl ? he wondered. 
 Fancy a man of his talents in the clutches of such a 
 minx ! And she was angry — doubly angry with him 
 now. It therefore followed that she could make 
 things very unpleasant. Ever since he had arrived in 
 Moscow things had gone wrong for him. . . . 
 
 Now as he heard footsteps approach he made an 
 effort to collect himself and to feign indifference. He 
 was relieved to find that Sasha had not come alone. 
 
 " I will not sit down," she said coldly, in answer to 
 his attempt to offer her a chair. " Our discussion will 
 not last long. It is only necessary for us to under- 
 stand one another — as quickly as possible." 
 
 The Frenchman bowed in his clumsy way. 
 
 " I think that there should be no difficulty in that," 
 he remarked smoothly. 
 
 Sasha gave a short laugh : even to him her face 
 looked pale and overstrained in the crude light of the 
 dawn which was flooding through the window ; and 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 161 
 
 because of her costume of pink satin her manner ap- 
 peared almost theatrical. 
 
 " I do not doubt it — I shall give you no opportunity 
 of misunderstanding me, though I can quite believe 
 that you would like me to think, as in Warsaw, that 
 you are a very innocent person." 
 
 " Gently, gently," said the doctor, coming nearer 
 and taking her hand for an instant ; "let us keep to 
 the point." 
 
 He looked into her face gravely and searchingly as 
 if seeking for some motive for her outbursts. Sasha 
 was becoming irritable — extremely irritable, there was 
 no doubt about that — Sasha, who had always been 
 so gay and light-hearted ever since childhood. 
 
 She released her hand with a shrugging movement 
 of the shoulders, and now, looking into the French- 
 man's eyes, she addressed him — straight to the point. 
 
 " Why did you come to Moscow — without orders ? ' 
 
 " Why did I come to Moscow ? " echoed Verdard, as 
 if he hardly understood. " Because I had a new 
 scheme, about which I wrote in advance — a scheme 
 which is now wrecked, after I had devoted weeks 
 of work to perfecting all the details. Monsieur le 
 Baron wrecked it wholly and utterly by a simple 
 statement." 
 
 " You mean ? " 
 
 " Monsieur le Baron told me in absolute terms that 
 the time for preparations had gone by and that the 
 time for action was fast arriving, and that if I did not 
 like it I had best return to France. I answered that 
 I would take my place with the rest, even though 
 such a low opinion of me seems to prevail — in the firing- 
 line if necessary." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Sasha and the doctor simul- 
 ii 
 
162 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 taneously. They looked at one another in open sur- 
 prise. Then the doctor walked slowly to the window. 
 It was apparent that he had become very reflective. 
 
 Sasha was the first to regain her first attitude. 
 She had not supposed that anyone would have been 
 so complaisant as to give this man an inkling of the 
 great things that were preparing. 
 
 " Well, admitting what you say is true, I return to 
 my first question. Who authorized you to come to 
 Moscow — who authorized you ? " 
 
 She drew a step nearer, and the expression on her 
 face made her features look sharper, less girlish, indeed 
 almost cruel. There was authority there, the look 
 which is not acquired, but comes from birth. 
 
 Verdard eyed her doubtfully : he was rather 
 frightened. 
 
 " No one authorized me," he confessed finally, with 
 a certain sullenness of manner which was not inviting, 
 " but I wrote announcing my arrival, and the Baron 
 duly received me." He was cornered, and like all 
 cornered men, he was prepared to become ugly in any 
 way that suggested itself. 
 
 Sasha turned to the doctor. 
 
 " You see, what did I say ? The man is a fool," 
 she said in a low voice, speaking in Polish ; " and of 
 all fools the worst is the one who thinks himself clever. 
 This one will get us into worse trouble yet — unless he 
 is checked at once." 
 
 The doctor had apparently no comment to offer ; he 
 merely shrugged his shoulders and continued to look 
 out of the window. 
 
 " You are a babbler, too," resumed Sasha in French, 
 quite unrelentingly, because women are always un- 
 relenting wherever their lovers are not concerned. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 163 
 
 " You have never yet explained or justified what you 
 did in Warsaw two months ago — when you told some 
 friends that you knew all about me, and that women 
 were not so clever as they thought themselves. You 
 had the impudence to relate the unfortunate affair 
 of the Grand Duke's letters/' 
 
 Verdard made a violent gesture. 
 
 " I swear " he began. 
 
 Sasha held up a contemptuous hand. 
 
 " Spare yourself the trouble ! I received that from 
 three separate sources — and I have seen to it that it 
 has been reported against you. You had no business 
 to know anything about me or my work." 
 
 " Gorkhoff told me." 
 
 " Indeed, and what business had you to know 
 Gorkhoff ? " 
 
 " I met him once by order." 
 
 " And did the instructions include exchanging con- 
 fidences ? "/ 
 
 The doctor suddenly intervened. 
 Alexandra Alexandra vna," he said in a low voice, 
 " have done with this man. All this is of no importance 
 now. The present is alone important." 
 
 For a moment her answer remained uncertain. 
 Then, with wonderful inconsistency, she suddenly 
 laughed gaily as if her anger and her impatience had 
 only been feigned. 
 
 " You are right," she confessed with apparent 
 ingenuousness ; " the present is alone important, and 
 we have not yet made up our minds as to who shot 
 the Baron. Perhaps our French friend can help us." 
 
 In spite of herself her lip curled a little as she said 
 that. 
 
 " Or Monsieur Faulconbridge, the English friend," 
 
164 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 suggested Verdard, by way of reply, firing a shot at 
 random. 
 
 " Ah, that Englishman," exclaimed the doctor, 
 suddenly rubbing his hands ; " and why should he 
 know ? " 
 
 Verdard's moment had come. 
 
 " He is an observant man, and silent." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Sasha and the doctor simul- 
 taneously, just as they had done once before. But 
 this time their motives were different — quite dif- 
 ferent. The girl, indeed, appeared suddenly lost in 
 thought. She stood there with her fingers up to her 
 lips and her eyes looking far away. 
 
 Verdard pressed the advantage which he felt he had 
 gained. 
 
 " He should be questioned," he resumed very de- 
 liberately, " because he has the habit of noticing 
 everything, and carefully noting it down — one would 
 almost suppose that his curiosity is due to something 
 very peculiar. At the Anchorite, for instance, it so 
 happened, Mademoiselle, that hardly had you com- 
 menced singing before he commenced questioning me 
 closely about you. He wished to know everything — 
 he asked me many questions about you — and I told 
 him nothing, saying that I had never seen you before. 
 When one has the cause at heart it is wise to be super- 
 latively careful. But he penetrated my dissimu- 
 lation, his manner told me that, and he has been 
 resentful ever since. The English are like that — 
 childish when you lie to them — an absurd race." 
 
 " You say he heard me sing ? " put in Sasha, who 
 had listened breathlessly ; and then straightaway she 
 forgot all about the many bones she had to pick with 
 this fat, inquisitive fellow. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 165 
 
 Verdard saw the change. It was time to be cunning- 
 well, he would try. 
 
 He cleared his throat and assumed a more deter- 
 mined attitude. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he began again very smoothly, 
 " whilst I am sensible of the fact that I am a poor 
 sinner, it may interest you to know that I still have 
 my uses " 
 
 " Your uses ? " repeated Sasha, who was still very 
 distraite. 
 
 " Yes, my uses. For instance, I know precisely 
 the precipitating cause of this night's disaster." 
 
 The doctor, who had been willing to stand almost 
 silent these many minutes, now became extraordinarily 
 interested. 
 
 " Explain yourself," he exclaimed, coming nearer. 
 
 " I will tell you the story in twenty words. The 
 Baron had the imprudence to post a paper in front 
 of the hotel — I presume to the Central Committee, 
 since it went into the alms-box. You have only to 
 question the man Ivan. I saw it from my window. 
 If I saw it, others must have seen it." He paused 
 deliberately so as to give peculiar emphasis to his final 
 words : " I know that at least two persons were made 
 cognizant of this imprudence." 
 
 " Two ? " The doctor and Sasha repeated the word 
 simultaneously. 
 
 Verdard's moment of triumph had come. 
 
 " One was the spy Gavrilloff , the other this English- 
 man." 
 
 " Gavrilloff— Gavrilloff ? " repeated his listeners in 
 wonderment . 
 
 The Frenchman made a violent protesting movement 
 with both his hands. 
 
166 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 "Is it necessary to put everything down to this 
 wretched Gavrilloff directly there is a tragedy ? I 
 would ask one question — who is this Mr. Faulcon- 
 bridge ? " 
 
 He looked slowly and meaningly from the doctor 
 to the girl, and then back to the doctor, whose face 
 still expressed the strangest surprise. 
 
 Sasha had instantly flushed. Now she turned on 
 the spokesman with something more than her old fire. 
 
 " Ah ! I knew you were a fool, nothing but a fool ! 
 You cannot recognize an honest man — a gentleman — 
 when you see one. Mr. Faulconbridge has certainly 
 nothing to do with this — no more to do with it than I 
 have. How can you say such things ? " Then she 
 stopped abruptly, blushing deeply in spite of herself, 
 wondering if she had gone too far. 
 
 " Wait a minute," interrupted the doctor. " Let 
 us understand this matter more clearly. It will be 
 necessary to report all the circumstances at once. 
 Verdard has right on his side. I can include it all in 
 my report. Let me sit down and make some notes." 
 
 He went to a small table and drew up the only 
 chair. 
 
 What followed was as much in accordance with the 
 witty laws of comedy as the rest had been. 
 
 " I will leave you, then, to make your notes," 
 broke in Sasha suddenly and impulsively ; M but re- 
 member, Verdard, that though I forgive you for the 
 past, the future will not find me so relenting. Doctor, 
 you will find me with your patient." 
 
 With that she slipped from the room before there 
 was time to protest — leaving the doctor staring at 
 Verdard and Verdard staring at the doctor. 
 
 Yet she was quite indifferent to what they might 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 167 
 
 both think of her. She was full of a strange new 
 excitement — an excitement which filled her with 
 wonder. 
 
 The thing was being thrust upon her from all sides — 
 the idea had at last taken definite shape. She could 
 no longer hold back. 
 
XVI 
 
 A FTER such a night, how could a man sleep — 
 
 / \ how could he hope to take up again the threads 
 -Z \^of normal life — how could he retain the normal 
 view ? The cat was out of the bag at last — and what 
 a cat it was ! The world was a world tilted upside 
 down — a mad place, with impossibilities gaily jostling 
 one another like the crowds in the market-places — 
 with everything out of focus — and the figures on the 
 slide dancing an endless Danse Macabre. 
 
 " What a night, what a night," murmured Faulcon- 
 bridge to himself again and again as he tossed and 
 turned, and tried to sleep, and only kept on thinking 
 more and more madly. 
 
 Why should he, a complete stranger, have taken 
 part in it all ? What had thrust him into the thick 
 of it ? He did not know — he could not say. The 
 sequence of extravagances, the web of entanglements, 
 had grown so rapidly that he had almost lost count of 
 them — almost forgotten that they were extravagant — 
 until just now. It was only when he picked them out 
 of their peculiar surroundings, and held them up to 
 the calm light of day, that they seemed so grotesque, 
 so double-faced. And he was in the midst of these 
 things — surrounded, with his retreat cut off. He could 
 not begin to imagine how it would all end ; a normal 
 ending was out of the question. 
 
 He thought on. No wonder an air of unreality — a 
 
 1 68 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 169 
 
 strange theatrical note, had pressed itself so much on 
 his attention from the very first moment of his arrival. 
 It seemed to him that to account for the fierce hilarity, 
 the wild desire to enjoy life, which was everywhere 
 uppermost among this people, there was nothing neces- 
 sary but these clashing values — this open gambling 
 with the hidden future. Even death here could not 
 be the gloomy, austere, depressing ending it generally 
 was. This people tried to conceive of it as a cheerful 
 thing — a plaything — a possible chance in a lottery — a 
 little accident, but never a dread fatality. There was 
 something fascinating in that way of looking at life : 
 as nothing but a succession of pistol-shots fired at a 
 man as he ran, a long succession of pistol-shots, crack- 
 ling unendingly. . . No — no, he was confusing again 
 — that was what had happened last night to one man 
 and to no one else. And yet it was what would happen 
 to them all sooner or later — every man and woman of 
 them — since they really desired it. 
 
 Even to Sasha ! 
 
 His heart leaped. Surely it would not be her fate. 
 It was too cruel and brutal. And yet she was made of 
 the same clay — she was chipped from the same block — 
 she must be rilled with the same ideas. Of course, she 
 had some reason for acting the way she did with him 
 — she was fighting out some struggle as a preliminary 
 to something else. 
 
 He could not help thinking of her that way. Soon 
 the others became grouped round her as a mere setting 
 to a central figure — like the disciples round a great 
 Buddha — with an aureole crowning her — very bright 
 and glittering. The wounded man, with the strangely 
 poetic beard, the philosophic doctor, the tall, white- 
 bearded peasant, the little girl, the fat, shallow French- 
 
170 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 man — they were her slaves, just as he was her 
 slave. . . . 
 
 Sasha — the name was as sweet to him as the odour 
 of a flower. It was the most charming of diminutives. 
 How soft were the sibilants of this language — they 
 were like the murmur of waters that glide over polished 
 rocks and push gently in front of them broken twigs 
 and fallen leaves to the sound of their unending reverie. 
 
 Her eyes, he liked her eyes — they were always look- 
 ing for something far away — he hated eyes that were 
 for ever centred on the present. Her eyes did not 
 laugh as did her mouth ; they were grave — very grave. 
 Perhaps they contemplated something tragic and fatal 
 — perhaps they already dreamily looked upon some- 
 thing that was hidden from others. 
 
 Her hair, he liked her hair. It was not only the 
 colour of it, or the softness of it, or its abundance : it 
 was the way she dressed it. The heavy plaits, twisted 
 round her head in that purely Russian fashion, removed 
 her very far indeed from the world of conventions 
 which he had so far known. She belonged to something 
 which was more intense, more primitive, more spiritual, 
 because it had grown up uninfluenced by decadent 
 civilizations. In spite of her arts and artifices, she was 
 somehow a woodland girl. 
 
 And her hands, her arms, and the manner in which 
 she used them. They trembled with budding powers ; 
 they were brimming over with life ; they were made 
 for embraces, not gross, but dear — for something which 
 would inspire the soul just as much as it would en- 
 rapture the flesh. He had never seen such hands or 
 such arms. 
 
 And she could sing — she had sung to him from the 
 very beginning. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 171 
 
 Now she was once again leaning forward laughingly 
 before the footlights, accepting with little gestures of 
 delight the great waves of applause which came from 
 the crowds scattered under the dark trees. The skirt 
 of her pink costume stood out stiffly and severely 
 and seemed to accentuate the graceful lines of her 
 corsage. Her eyes, dancing with excitement, were 
 never quiet a second. Alive with a dozen emotions, 
 they swept the audience, never alighting on a single 
 face, always glancing off with the rapidity of lightning, 
 always moving on. Perhaps they were looking for 
 him, unconsciously, irresistibly. . . . Who could tell, 
 who could tell ? Now he heard again the excited com- 
 ments of his neighbours ; he felt their pressure as they 
 tried to push nearer to the seductive scene. Then, as 
 he, too, pushed forward with his neighbours, an ominous 
 thunder mixed with his tender thoughts. In vain he 
 tried to shut his ears against it, to recover the gentler 
 impression. But the thunder was persistent and would 
 not be denied. In growing irritation, he made a sharp 
 protesting movement to push it away, to stop it, and 
 suddenly — woke up. 
 
 Somebody was knocking loudly, as if the business 
 were pressing ; somebody was knocking more and more 
 loudly. 
 
 Faulconbridge sprang to his feet, and presently, as 
 he opened the door, he had that odd shock of surprise 
 which so often comes when a past association which 
 has been long haunting the brain is suddenly material- 
 ized in the flesh. 
 
 It was no other person than the doctor — the Malny 
 doctor as they called him — now very correctly dressed 
 in a black frock-coat, with a silver-mounted stick in 
 his hand, and a flower in his button-hole. He stood 
 
172 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 there for a moment, framed in the doorway, as if he 
 were silently considering how he should best excuse 
 himself — best explain, without loss of time, the reason 
 which had brought him hither. 
 
 " Good afternoon,' ' he said finally, with his charming 
 benevolent smile overflowing his face ; "I must ask 
 your humble pardon for intruding like this — I who am 
 a complete stranger to you — but I have a little matter 
 to discuss, and " — he hesitated for the veriest fraction 
 of a second — " I do not like hotel servants as heralds. 
 You understand ? ' Then he smiled again as he stood 
 there with that perfect grace of manner which Russians 
 alone possess in common with Spaniards. Perhaps that 
 Oriental ease was acquired in ages past, when at 
 opposite ends of Europe these two races touched hands 
 with the courtly East. 
 
 " There is no need to apologize," said Faulconbridge, 
 " though I confess you took me unawares. I must 
 have slept." 
 
 He looked at his watch, and his face expressed sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, coming forward softly and 
 placing his hat and stick on a chair and gravely 
 nodding to the younger man, "it is three o'clock in 
 the afternoon and more. Nature, our great universal 
 mother, stretches out her arms to us whenever we are 
 weary — and then we sleep — or die. . . ." 
 
 He watched his companion throw back the window 
 curtains with the same thoughtful manner, and when 
 he came back towards him, it was he who waved him 
 to a chair. Some men are like that ; they take com- 
 mand of a situation much as a captain takes command 
 of his ship. 
 
 " I have come to ask you," said the doctor, without 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 173 
 
 further ado, " to preserve the strictest secrecy about 
 everything that occurred last night. It is quite essen- 
 tial — I can assure you. I have only to bring certain 
 circumstances to your notice, knowing you to be an 
 honourable man — a gentleman — to have you at once 
 understand how important it is for the safety of num- 
 bers of people that no word of what happened gets 
 bruited abroad." 
 
 He looked up interrogatively — with a world of 
 meaning in his eyes. 
 
 " You have my word now," said Faulconbridge 
 gravely. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said the doctor, in his deep, sonor- 
 ous voice, speaking very slowly. 
 
 There was something noble in the manner in which 
 he pronounced the last word. He said it with a grave 
 courtesy rooted in something deeper than polite con- 
 vention. It was assuredly one gentleman speaking to 
 another. 
 
 " The facts concerning last night are very simple," 
 he resumed in his earnest way, after a brief pause, " and 
 I am told that you actually saw the precipitating cause 
 — a paper put into a collection-box." Faulconbridge 
 inclined his head. " Russia is a strange land, and you 
 would probably understand nothing if I simply told 
 you that Baron Vonnergrot, the victim, was shot by 
 a police spy, as we believe, so as to complicate the per- 
 fecting of plans which have not yet been quite matured. 
 I therefore must be more explicit and give you some 
 of the background— some of the big web of entangle- 
 ments which we are trying to brush aside. You know 
 what every reader of newspapers knows, that this 
 great country is full of unrest, is stirring with strange 
 movements ; and that our disastrous war in Asia is 
 
174 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 serving to bring to a head issues which have too long 
 lain dormant. About these things I need not tell you 
 — but there are other things which you should know. 
 ... I must try to be comprehensive." 
 
 He drew a long breath, crossed his legs, folded his 
 hands, and looked out of the window as if he were lost 
 in thought. There was an immense magnetism about 
 the man — the iron which is in all men's souls was 
 irresistibly drawn to him. Faulconbridge's eyes never 
 left his face. 
 
 At last the doctor spoke — suddenly and bitterly. 
 
 " I am a Jew ! I see that you look surprised, that 
 you do not completely understand — well, I will en- 
 lighten you. The reason why I — a Jew — am here 
 explaining to you the complexities of Russian national 
 life — the meaning of our many sudden tragedies, of 
 which you have seen a curious example — those reasons, 
 I say, are historical. It has been said many times, but 
 I must say it again — the Revolutionary movement in 
 Russia is a Jewish movement — the brains are Jewish, 
 the money is Jewish, the organization is Jewish. This 
 is nothing but what it should be when our history is 
 understood — that is our unhappy history in this 
 land." 
 
 " The Russian Jews are among the most ancient 
 inhabitants of the empire — they were here as soon as 
 the Scythians ; for it has been established by many 
 positive proofs that they had settled along the shores 
 of the Black Sea as early as the third century before 
 Christ. Always foremost in commerce and the arts, 
 the economic expansion which followed the conquests 
 of Alexander the Great, all through the regions in 
 touch with the Mediterranean, saw them quickly 
 spread into all the new Greek towns in the Crimea, 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 175 
 
 as well as into many newly opened centres in Asia. 
 It is a fact, which is now generally accepted, that in 
 Russia they prospered and were respected so much 
 that centuries later many Ugro-Finnish tribes were 
 actually converted to the Mosaic faith, the process 
 only being arrested by the fiendish cruelty of the pagan 
 Slavs." He drew a deep breath, and then went on 
 more slowly : "I will pass that by, however. That is 
 not the point on which I wish you to concentrate your 
 attention. What I wish you to understand is that there 
 were Jews in Russia long before the rise of Christianity, 
 long before the Slavs adopted the Christian teaching, 
 long before the smallest conception of a state had pene- 
 trated the minds of these uncouth tribes. We have no 
 records to prove that the brains which planned the 
 building-up of Muscovy were Jewish, though we 
 strongly suspect it, but at least we know that in those 
 unending wars between the Slavonic princes, the Jews 
 always took an active and a leading part. They were 
 found in large numbers in the different camps, taking 
 up arms in the service of this or that prince, aiding and 
 abetting, planning and building, always foremost in 
 war as in peace. Understand me well. Slav and Jew 
 fought side by side, undertook military expeditions, 
 defended the country against foreign invasions. A 
 remarkable thing in the Polish wars was the number 
 of our Jewish soldiers. The Jews in those days en- 
 joyed absolutely equal civil and political rights with 
 their fellow-citizens — rights which were in no wise 
 abated during the period of the Mongol dominion. 
 Thus they were to all intents and purposes Slavs. 
 They had assimilated themselves to such an extent 
 that they spoke the language and bore Slavonic names. 
 How and why was this happy condition changed ? ' 
 
176 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 As the doctor asked this question in his deep, solemn 
 voice, he suddenly uncrossed his legs and stood up. 
 It was as if his curious monologue had become charged 
 with a new and deeper meaning. Now he intended to 
 denounce. 
 
 He was no longer looking at his companion as he 
 had previously done. His eyes now gazed out of the 
 window — perhaps at the great blue dome which not 
 only answers every mortal question, but tells us before 
 those questions are even spoken that it is really useless 
 to inquire. . . . 
 
 " It was all changed," he said slowly, " by the 
 accession of the Romanoffs — Germans, nothing but 
 pure Germans. The Romanoffs are the traditional 
 enemies of the Jews ; they have shown themselves 
 in their senseless persecutions far worse than the 
 Spaniards in the days following the expulsion of the 
 Moors from the Iberian Peninsula — those gloomy days 
 when the descendants of the Arab conquerors were 
 treated like dogs. This is how our Jewish debacle 
 came about." 
 
 " As you doubtless know, Poland has always con- 
 tained immense numbers of our people. Under the 
 rule of the Polish kings they enjoyed the fullest liberty ; 
 but when the Czars were drawn into the last Polish 
 wars the death-knell of their happiness was sounded. 
 No sooner was Poland finally conquered and annexed 
 in 1772 than our people, though they had thus auto- 
 matically become Russian subjects, were treated as 
 aliens and slaves. Russia, herself semi-barbarous, was 
 vainly pursuing the phantom of a unity of faith — the 
 former dream of Rome— and the Jews were conse- 
 quently treated as the enemies of Christ. From that 
 day to this our story has been a simple one. It can be 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 177 
 
 summed up in one word — pogrom — which even you in 
 England know means massacre. We have been ac- 
 cused again and again of the most fantastic crimes, the 
 slaying of babes, sacrilege in churches, of many hideous 
 and senseless things, and for these we have been cruelly 
 massacred. It is for this reason that we must revolt 
 and revolt again until we come to our own. For we 
 are no longer alone ; we have found allies. . . . All 
 Poland is with us, and then we have behind us the 
 working classes, the people, the whole of their united 
 strength is on our side. That great body of men that 
 has been ground down by violence is at last awake and 
 is now uniting — the will of the people is aroused. 
 Do you know the great, simple story of this land ? 
 When I have told you that I will have finished — and 
 can say good-bye." 
 
 Now he told the story of Russia as if he had witnessed 
 it all — the story of how, in the teeth of enormous 
 difficulties, this hostile land of woods and forests had 
 been slowly conquered. x\s he spoke you could hear 
 the blows of the heavy axes wielded by vigorous arms. 
 You could see the men draining the morasses as they 
 penetrated further and further into the depths of 
 dense forests, following the course of frozen rivers, 
 subduing the savage country, and laying it out. But 
 the princes, the governors of the people, cut up this 
 land which had been so hardly won, and availing 
 themselves of the strong arms of the people, they waged 
 war among one another only to despoil the people. 
 Then the Tartars came from the steppes, and among 
 all the princes not a single one fought for the freedom 
 of the people ; neither honour, nor strength, nor 
 intelligence, was to be found among them. They sold 
 the people to the Tartars — peddled them like cattle to 
 
 12 
 
178 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 the Khans, and then purchased, at the price of their 
 peasants' blood, princely power over them. Then, 
 when at length they had cut the throats of the Khans, or 
 had driven them out of the country, there remained 
 nothing but a nation of slaves. 
 
 " That is the story of Russia," concluded the doctor ; 
 " that is the real story ; there is nothing else, nothing 
 at all." 
 
 He stood up, and walked to the window, very slowly, 
 as if he were weary and footsore, as if not only in 
 spirit, but in the very flesh, he had travelled that 
 immense road of pain and suffering which he had so 
 eloquently traced in the history of a nation. 
 
 He stood there presenting his broad back, his great 
 head sunk between his shoulders, his long, loose arms, 
 to the man he had come to see and win over to an 
 understanding of complexities, as if he had forgotten 
 his object, as if such a paltry matter as a single man 
 had slipped from his mind when he was considering 
 the condition of a deathless race. In that rugged out- 
 line, thrown against the daylight, was perhaps the 
 outline of the problem itself — ill-balanced, full of 
 primeval force, silent and noisy by fits and starts, with 
 unfathomed reserves of strength hidden so deep down 
 that, like the springs of life itself, it was impossible 
 properly to discover the why or the wherefore. . . . 
 
 He had turned before Faulconbridge had realized it, 
 with his sad, winning smile lighting up his dark bearded 
 face as sunshine lights up a densely wooded country- 
 side. 
 
 " And now I come to the end — my own personal 
 tragic end," he said. 
 
 " Forty, or perhaps it was fifty years ago, my father, 
 who came from Poland, became interested in this great 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 179 
 
 problem. Like myself, he was a doctor — a good and 
 learned doctor in the dark days of medicine. He be- 
 came interested in this problem, I say, because cruelty 
 hurt him ; because cruelty burnt him just as a red-hot 
 iron burns. He could not endure the things he saw 
 about him — the injustices, the gross abuses ; and so 
 it came to pass that he joined a Liberal League in the 
 small provincial town where we then lived. 
 
 " I was so small that I remember few things concern- 
 ing those days, save that during the night meetings 
 often took place in our house at which the discussions 
 lasted until dawn. But one night a detachment of 
 soldiers under a captain arrived suddenly, and my 
 father was given a paper to read. A generation ago 
 they settled matters more simply than to-day. It 
 appeared that my father had the choice of a due trial, 
 which would certainly end in perpetual banishment 
 to Siberia — as well as in the conviction of all his friends 
 and associates — or instant death. He chose the latter. 
 The captain invited him to follow him to a solitary 
 place — and by his permission, I, the only child, was 
 allowed to accompany him. Without delay we set 
 out. I remember it so well, so well — every detail, 
 every little thing. . . . 
 
 " It was moonlight ; black shadows surrounded 
 us ; and we had soon left the town behind. On and 
 on we went. I can still see the forest silently creeping 
 up to the hills, and above the peaks, the stars, like 
 birds of fire, twinkling between the branches of the 
 trees. Somewhere — it could not have been far from us 
 — a brook was murmuring ; an owl hooted from time 
 to time in the woods ; whilst our footsteps, like the 
 beating of a military measure, rose and fell regularly 
 in the night air. 
 
180 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " Silently, with never so much as a word or a whisper 
 from our captors, we marched on. All the time my 
 father held me by the hand, and talked to me gently 
 about life, and how it was necessary to be just, and 
 strong, and brave, and resolute, and simple, but con- 
 cerning himself he never spoke a word. His voice fell 
 on my ears like a prayer which would save my soul 
 whenever it was endangered. 
 
 " Oh, that terrible night ! 
 
 " The sun was already rising behind the mountain, 
 the night hiding herself fearfully in the woods, the 
 birds called to one another, tiny clouds stood in rose- 
 hued ranks above our heads, when at last we reached 
 our destination. My father was a tall man, and as if 
 in honour of his height they picked out the tallest tree. 
 
 " ' Now,' said the captain gruffly, * my duty is un- 
 pleasant : let me execute it quickly. Say good-bye to 
 your son.' 
 
 " My father clasped me in a last embrace ; then, with 
 a movement of resolution, he pushed me from him, 
 took his stand in the appointed place — and they 
 fired. . . ." 
 
 The doctor finished abruptly. All through his story 
 he had added a vividness to his description by quick 
 movements of the hand and head, by his flashing eyes, 
 his Slav fire — so that his auditor could see the scene 
 as he had seen it ; could feel the stillness of the moun- 
 tains, could hear the whisper of the woods, could see 
 the gloomy band steadily advancing. Now, with a last 
 gesture, he showed how his father had fallen with his 
 face on the wet stones, and how he himself had knelt 
 beside him. It was tremendous. 
 
 Involuntarily Faulconbridge gave an exclamation ; 
 then, breathing deeply, he recovered himself and fell 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 181 
 
 back again in his chair. During the whole long narra- 
 tive he had never once moved. 
 
 The doctor had seated himself. He was quite out 
 of breath, bathed in sweat, and great tears were 
 shining in his mournful eyes. 
 
 " It is thirty-two years ago," he said softly, " thirty- 
 two long years, which have gone by so slowly, but I 
 have never forgotten. I have been to America, I have 
 been to Africa, I have been to Australia, indeed to a 
 round dozen of distant places, but I cannot forget, I 
 cannot forget. How can I forget — oh ! tell me how? . . . 
 I will always remember — yes, always. And when I 
 tell that story I could weep like a woman — only more 
 terribly scalding tears, bitter tears, terrible tears — only 
 that I am a man, and must try to remember my 
 manhood." 
 
 Now he smiled sweetly, as a woman smiles ; and, 
 as if refreshed, once more stood up. Some rays of the 
 afternoon sunlight, striking in through the open window, 
 suddenly alighted on him and made him seem trans- 
 figured. It was as if the sun had sought him out, and 
 now that it had found him, promised evermore to light 
 his road. 
 
 " And yet they say that we Jews are cowards," he 
 continued in a more reflective voice. " Cowards ! Do 
 you know who have been the life of every liberating 
 movement in Russia ? — Jews ; who have died on the 
 barricades ? — Jews ; who have suffered martyrdom by 
 the thousand in the fortresses of St. Peter and St. 
 Paul ? — Jews. It is always the Jews — their spirit is 
 never daunted. Women and men, it is all the same — 
 half the women condemned for political offences are 
 our Jewesses. Do you understand, I say? The world 
 might learn from this, were it wiser, our true nature — 
 
182 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 we, the descendants of the Maccabees. Yet I know 
 that even among Englishmen — who are liberal, mag- 
 nanimous, just — there is some feeling, some prejudice 
 against us — against our methods. ... In spite of our 
 sufferings — our bitter sufferings — you would have us 
 remain silent and never revolt. The wretched race 
 of tchinovniks who govern this land have too many 
 friends ! What shall I add as a last word to convince 
 you ? Ah, yes ! I will say it ! I learnt it long ago ! " 
 
 He looked at his companion as if seeing through him 
 into his soul ; he looked at him deeply, mournfully, 
 pathetically. . . . 
 
 Then he came nearer, and his rare smile was almost 
 spiritual. 
 
 He came nearer as a consummate actor on a stage 
 approaches — with no undue haste, with no lack of 
 decorum, with no fretful gestures — with nothing but his 
 own flaming spirit to help his words. Then he began 
 quoting softly, deeply, marvellously. . . . 
 
 " ' Hath not a Jew eyes ? Hath not a Jew hands, 
 organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? Fed 
 with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, sub- 
 ject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, 
 warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as 
 a Christian is ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? If 
 you tickle us, do we not laugh ? If you poison us, do 
 we not die ? And — if — you — wrong — us, shall — we — 
 not — revenge ? ' " 
 
 He stopped and folded his arms, proudly, slowly. 
 He stood like that for a space as motionless as if he 
 had been carved from rock — a grim figure of a man 
 exalted by an idea. He stood like that so that the 
 silence brooded heavily, and the man who was watching 
 him heard and understood. His great message had 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 183 
 
 become a solemn, massive thing wafted by magic into 
 the room and standing there rock-like, demanding an 
 answer — accepting no denial. 
 
 Then, very quietly, his feet falling so softly on the 
 carpet that they made no sound, this strange visitor 
 had taken up his hat and stick — and without so much 
 as a word, or a nod, or a bow, or a sigh, he had opened 
 the door — and was gone. 
 
 Richard Faulconbridge, still motionless, sat staring 
 at the door. 
 
XVII 
 
 SASHA had sent the doctor to Faulconbridge . 
 She had heard of the arrest of the black- 
 bearded man — who was an emissary from 
 another centre — and she knew there was now no 
 time to lose. 
 
 She had sent the doctor with no definite instruc- 
 tions, only telling him to be eloquent. The doctor 
 knew as little about her and her great secret as Faul- 
 conbridge himself — as this man who had suddenly 
 become so doubly essential to her. The doctor had 
 been in her hands a blind instrument of fate — just as 
 the Englishman must be. She had measured him — 
 her Englishman — and the situation which he created, 
 solely by her instinct, and her instinct had not played 
 her false. A method would pay with him which 
 would never have paid in ordinary circumstances. 
 She knew that there was no one who could use indirect 
 arguments with such skill as the strange man of science, 
 who had known her since childhood, and who had been 
 exiled so long in the village of Malny that he had 
 simply become for everyone the Malny doctor ; she 
 was sure — even before she learnt what had happened — 
 that the doctor's visit had been a success. He had 
 become a man of one idea — the fixed idea that he must 
 seek vengeance for his father's judicial murder. He 
 was a little mad, and because of that was not held 
 of much account in practical work ; but when he 
 
 184 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 185 
 
 talked his fire and magnetism always worked 
 wonders. 
 
 Yet though she was now so coldly determined in her 
 plans, though she believed success was in sight, Sasha 
 was now troubled with many curious, conflicting 
 thoughts. Of course, she was sorry for this English- 
 man who, because of her great need, must be bent and 
 moulded as she decreed ; who must be even offered 
 up as a sacrifice, if necessary. It was sad — and cruel — 
 yet what was she to do ? He had become essential 
 to her — ever since the pistol-shots had told her how 
 close the crisis had stolen, and how 7 necessary it was 
 to have strong instruments, and not weak ones, like 
 herself. 
 
 He would be an easy man to handle — very easy. 
 She smiled to herself as she thought of his simplicity 
 that day in the Kremlin — the manner in which he had 
 frowned more and more deeply, and at last refused to 
 allow her to continue her calm recital of the dreadful 
 brutalities of Ivan the Terrible. " That is not a fit 
 subject for girls," he had curtly said — as if he knew 
 everything about them. It was really laughable to 
 think how foolish he had been. 
 
 Still he would have uses. She needed a true man, 
 somebody who would stand by her, and help her from 
 a hopeless impasse. Fate could not have picked a 
 better man for her — not if she had prayed passion- 
 ately to the blind Madonna night and day. He was the 
 very man — the only man — the one man — and because 
 he had crossed her path at the very eleventh hour, 
 when he was most needed, she began to believe that 
 something more than chance had sent him to her. 
 
 She twisted to pieces the letter, full of angry re- 
 marks about her lack of success — a letter which also 
 
186 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 gave details about the arrest. She would show the 
 committee that although the beginning had been 
 delayed, the end would come with dramatic sudden- 
 ness. Yes — she would show these men who reproached 
 her that she was more than worthy of their trust. 
 She would act as she had promised when she was 
 ready. 
 
 Yet the time was short — so short ! Now that the 
 enemy had commenced to strike, her turn might 
 suddenly come. Anything might happen — it was 
 impossible to know where the next blow was to fall. 
 She dared not go back to the hotel. She had the feel- 
 ing that she was being watched by countless eyes. 
 
 Poor Sergei, lying there wounded. ... It would 
 take many weeks for him to get well. They had to 
 accept all such things in silence, to accept these grim 
 sacrifices without uttering a word or striking back 
 a single blow, for fear that counter blows would dis- 
 turb the main plan. 
 
 The main plan — that was the only thing which 
 must be jealously guarded. 
 
 Now she commenced thinking how she should 
 begin her part so that she might push quickly through 
 with it. It was necessary to be careful and quick — 
 with this Englishman. 
 
 She had purposely avoided him, half because she 
 had not made up her mind, and half because it was 
 necessary for things to mature slowly — his desire for 
 her, for instance. She had been on the point several 
 times of changing her mind ; of sending for him and 
 telling him plainly and bluntly what she wanted, but 
 she had refrained — prompted by some subtle intuition 
 that it would be best not to burn her boats until the 
 very last moment. Now she could delay no longer. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 187 
 
 There was barely one week more — and remembering 
 that everything must be ready on the eve of the 
 great day, it meant just six days, if so many. 
 
 Six days — it was very little in which to accom- 
 plish so much — to seduce a man to a really great 
 action. . . . 
 
 Her breath came and went more quickly as she 
 framed this thought to herself in all its nakedness ; 
 and her delicate cheeks blushed pink. To-day, in- 
 stead of leaving her indifferent, the idea began to un- 
 nerve and frighten her. 
 
 She was going to give up all in payment for one 
 single action. 
 
 She sighed aloud to herself with the great heart- 
 ache which comes to women in the rare moments 
 when they are honest with their thoughts and follow 
 them to their logical conclusions. She did not want 
 to give her love for a price — the idea had suddenly 
 become hateful to her. She had remained unsullied 
 in spite of the dust of the strange high road along 
 which she had travelled ; now she was to become less 
 than the dust. She could not tell why she — a free- 
 thinker in all things — should suddenly feel this way ; 
 why she should feel changed, different, alarmed, per- 
 plexed. . . . Perhaps she had been really unnerved 
 by the dreadful shooting in the dead of night ; it 
 preyed on her mind — perhaps she was really a coward. 
 Excitable at times ! Excited now ! Who could tell 
 what it meant ? Bah ! 
 
 With an impatient gesture, and an angry exclama- 
 tion, she rose and went to the door. 
 
 " Come, my baby, come," she called in her tuneful 
 voice, crushing down the tumult in her heart, " I am 
 ready for you." 
 
188 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 There was a sound of little feet running up the 
 staircase, and then, lightly and gracefully, the child 
 Elizabeth ran into the room. 
 
 " I am here," she exclaimed. 
 
 Sasha put out her hands. 
 
 " Come and sit on my knee, my baby. I wish to tell 
 you something very carefully, and you must remember 
 every word — not one little mistake. It is very im- 
 portant." 
 
 She shook a finger laughingly at the child, who 
 now, with lips eagerly parted, was gazing at her 
 obediently as a faithful dog might have done. 
 
 " Do I make mistakes ? ' ' inquired the child, with 
 wonder in her eyes. 
 
 " No, my baby, no. But this time it is very im- 
 portant, and it is about a foreigner who knows no 
 Russian." 
 
 "Ah," exclaimed the child, knowingly nodding her 
 head, " I have several times carried messages to them. 
 They are always stupid, and pretend they do not 
 understand, even when I give them paper." 
 
 Sasha laughed. 
 
 " This time there is no paper to give — there is 
 nothing but a message, a very small message from me." 
 She drew a long breath. " You remember the two 
 strangers who were here last night ? " 
 
 The child nodded. 
 
 " Yes, I know them. The one fat and ugly, the 
 other, who carried the bavin, tall and strong. He stood 
 like this " — she made an odd pantomime with her 
 hands to show his careless attitude. 
 
 " And if you saw them again, among many, many 
 strangers, would you remember them — and make no 
 mistake ? " 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 189 
 
 " I should remember them, and make no mistake/' 
 repeated the child gravely. 
 
 " Good. Now listen. The fat man is a bad man. 
 If he saw you he would ask you questions, and try to 
 find out from you things that perhaps you know." 
 
 " I would not answer him — not even if he beat me." 
 
 " I know, my baby. I only tell you so that you may 
 understand. The tall man who carried the bavin is 
 a good man — his questions you could answer, only 
 that he is not Russian, and so he would only speak to 
 you in a strange language." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed the child wisely, nodding her 
 head, " a foreign language — a curious foreign language. 
 I have heard German. How ugly ! " 
 
 " Now I want you to give him a message from me. 
 . . . You will go to the square to-morrow morning and 
 wait in front of the hotel, making yourself small behind 
 the carriages. You must watch the large door all the 
 time, and when you see the tall foreigner come out, 
 follow him, but far behind." 
 
 " I know," exclaimed the child, " I have done it 
 before." 
 
 " When you are far from the hotel, when you are 
 sure no one is following, go up to him, and say to him, 
 1 Sasha.' Can you remember to say only that word — 
 and no other? " She repeated it several times in the 
 way she wished it said, and the child repeated it after 
 her. 
 
 " I shall not forget," said the child at length. 
 
 " There is nothing more," resumed Sasha, after a 
 moment's thought. " You understand, nothing more 
 at all. The tall foreigner will be astonished, perhaps, 
 but as soon as you move away he will follow. He has 
 seen you before, he wall not have forgotten you." 
 
190 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " He will follow me ; yes, I see." 
 
 " Then you have nothing more to do — but to lead 
 him to the bavin's house, up to the bavin 's room. I 
 shall be there waiting." 
 
 The child clapped her hands. 
 
 "It is simpler than many things I have done — it 
 is really very simple." 
 
 " Yes, if it goes like that, it is simple enough," 
 assented Sasha, " but supposing you see that he is 
 followed — let us say, by the fat man — what would 
 you do ? " 
 
 "If he is followed by the fat man, what would I 
 do," repeated the child in a suddenly perplexed voice. 
 " Then I could not speak, since you have told me that 
 no one must see me." 
 
 " But it is necessary to speak — it is necessary to 
 bring him to the bavin's house." 
 
 " Then I do not know how to do it," confessed the 
 child, in a tearful voice. " The fat man would see me 
 speak." 
 
 11 I will tell you how to do it. Go up to the fat 
 man first, and tell him in Russian that the bavin wishes 
 to see him here, at once, in this house. When he 
 hears that, the fat man will get into a carriage and 
 leave you alone to give your true message. Do you 
 understand now ? " 
 
 " I knew that it was simple," exclaimed the child 
 once more, clapping her hands. " I must give the false 
 message first, and the true message afterwards. I will 
 make no mistake. Is that all ? " 
 
 Sasha kissed the child on the forehead and set her 
 on the ground. 
 
 " Yes, it is all, but it is enough if you do it well. 
 Now go." 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 191 
 
 She stood there motionless for a long time after the 
 child had left her, with a dreamy look in her eyes. She 
 was thinking — thinking of how strange a sequel to the 
 beginning, when she had heard him sing in the early 
 morning, and she had answered that she would never 
 go to meet him — but that he must come to her. 
 
XVIII 
 
 THE ever-resourceful Verdard, having clattered 
 up to the hotel at a great pace, suddenly 
 stopped his carriage and got out before he 
 reached the main entrance. He did not wish watchful 
 eyes to note that the carriage was quite remarkably 
 splashed with mud, and the horses fairly foundered. 
 For that reason he carefully acted as the ostrich acts — 
 as so many people in the world do when they are trans- 
 parently at fault, and, indeed, are marching under the 
 impending sword. 
 
 Still, even this excessive caution appeared to give 
 Verdard to-day scant satisfaction. He paid the fare 
 with none of his customary animation, handing the 
 driver his just due and not one kopeck more. Then, 
 when he had done that, he turned and walked in 
 through the familiar doors as if he were dead tired. 
 He did not even hear the driver's curses. 
 
 It was raining. During the whole course of his 
 long drive it had not stopped raining. The rain fell from 
 the leaden skies in no tropical downpour, but just 
 slowly, sadly, continuously, hopelessly — particularly 
 hopelessly in his eyes because that adverb accorded 
 with his mood. The rain and the gloom and his lack 
 of success made the whole world, indeed, seem a very 
 different place from what it had been before. It was 
 a treacherous world — a miserable world, with this 
 fantastic city the very centre of the greatest misery. 
 
 192 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 193 
 
 Even the best of us think like that — when luck is 
 against us : Verdard was only a commonplace man. 
 
 In the great hall, which was usually so crowded and 
 so gay, it looked to him just as cheerless and as deserted 
 as the streets had been, though here the electric lights 
 were brightly blazing. There was not a soul to talk 
 to — not a soul. 
 
 " Everything goes wrong," he muttered to himself 
 for the twentieth time that morning, " everything — 
 everything." 
 
 He seated himself and began beating a nervous 
 tattoo with his feet on the tessellated floor. To-day 
 his red face looked almost pale, as if he were really 
 out of sorts — indeed, acutely suffering. The way the 
 world had lately treated him had certainly not agreed 
 with his digestion, not to speak of his temper. He 
 had driven all over the town in a vain effort to dis- 
 cover his two Russian partners so as to glean from 
 them what he should do in the immediate future. But 
 his two associates were not at their place of business, 
 nor were they at their private houses — nor were they 
 anywhere he could think of — nobody seemed very sure 
 whither they had gone. That alone was an ominous 
 sign ; it had never happened before. Verdard could 
 not tell what it meant — but instinctively he did not 
 like it. He thought of the manner in which even the 
 rats aie supposed to leave a sinking ship. He did not 
 like it at all, we say. 
 
 No — not at all. Indeed, he acutely disliked it — he 
 began to dislike everything about Russia and the 
 Russians. Now he remembered his earlier idealism 
 and laughed suddenly and scornfully to himself— 
 startling a boy in buttons who had just passed close 
 by him. They were unreliable, every one of them ; it 
 13 
 
194 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 was impossible to know where one stood with them 
 from hour to hour, almost from minute to minute. 
 They twisted, they turned ; they did this, they did 
 that — who could know what they were going to do 
 next ? B-r-r-r, what a people ! He would certainly 
 leave by the night express, and telegraph from Berlin 
 to his partners. Yes, that would be a good plan. Now 
 that the Baron was hots de combat he could retreat 
 without shame. 
 
 He had not begun to get over the shock of the tragic 
 night which he had spent around those wretched 
 gardens of the Anchorite. There were certain things 
 about that experience which would always haunt him. 
 The purely physical distress, the feeling of utter 
 helplessness which had come over him several times 
 during that long-drawn-out evening, simply because 
 of his great bulk, had done more to convince him that 
 it was madness to continue his doubtful vocation than 
 any spoken arguments could possibly have done. It 
 was, no doubt, all very well for the young and the 
 active to conspire, to be heroic ; but, alas ! He had 
 passed the age of heroism and heroics. He must 
 retreat — get out of it all before it was too late. 
 
 Suddenly his feet stopped their irritating measure, 
 and he sat up, as if something had stung him. What 
 a fool he was — here was the very thing lying r&ady to 
 his hand. Curious it was that he should have for- 
 gotten all about him! This Englishman — Faulcon- 
 bridge — here was a man who could certainly be of use 
 to him. With his assistance he could kill two birds 
 with one stone, perhaps a good many birds, pay off 
 old scores — particularly those he had against that 
 devilish Polish girl. 
 
 Now, with an exclamation, he rose, went to the 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 195 
 
 office, and made some inquiries. The answers he got 
 pleased him so much that when he came back to his 
 seat the settled gloom on his features had almost 
 disappeared. He did not know exactly what he would 
 do, but anyway he would do what he could. He would 
 have something, at least, to cheer him in the train, if he 
 left some darts behind. 
 
 His chair was directly opposite the lifts. He sat 
 down ponderously. He was going to wait for the 
 Englishman. He had him safe. 
 
 The man he was waiting for was, indeed, upstairs, 
 prey to many conflicting emotions. 
 
 Ever since the doctor had left him, Faulconbridge 
 had been buried in thought, going over again and again 
 all he had heard and seen, trying to detach himself from 
 the sensationalism of it all— and entirely failing. He 
 had long known the beauty of solitude and the sweet 
 poison of contemplation ; now they provided him with 
 crowded hours. 
 
 Sasha had judged rightly. The doctor had made 
 a tremendous impression on him— an impression which 
 deepened from hour to hour. How could it be other- 
 wise, when his heart had been already filled with so 
 strange a turmoil ? The pictures the doctor had 
 painted— with great swift strokes— were like the 
 pictures of the master Verestchagin himself, full of 
 a colouring so vivid as to be almost unreal — burnt in 
 with the fire of inextinguishable emotions. The pic- 
 tures were animal-like in their strength— brute things, 
 perhaps, because the issues were so brutal. Faulcon- 
 bridge could not banish from his ears the sound of the 
 doctor's voice, the burning quality of that voice. The 
 doctor had spoken with a dramatic effect which seemed 
 
196 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 greater than anything he had heard before, because 
 now the issues concerned him so closely. By his art 
 this artist had merged his words into one whole, and 
 then torn them apart at the climax to show what lay 
 beneath, just as a madman might tear bandages from a 
 wound. His words had been human things, stalking 
 down the ages, having a myriad shapes, confusing, 
 arresting, inspiriting. They made an endless proces- 
 sion, comprising old men leaning on staves, virgins 
 righting for their virginity, young men fighting for 
 blood, matrons for their babes, with endless little 
 children running to and fro and crying — a strange, 
 impossible procession like the people he saw around 
 him. 
 
 For the second night Faulconbridge got no sleep. 
 He turned and tossed and ever and anon stretched up 
 his arms, as half unconsciously he grappled with the 
 words and tore them from their loftiness to earth once 
 more. Something new in him had been awakened — 
 something which he had not dreamed of before. 
 
 His mood had cooled that dark, rainy morning to 
 this extent — that the fire had burned down deeper, 
 leaving the surface of the man calm and undisturbed. 
 And so it happened that Vcrdard, with his shallow 
 judgment of men and things, saw his victim walk out 
 of the gilded cage, which concealed the lifts, looking 
 precisely as he always looked. With a large smile 
 on his face, the Frenchman greeted him effusively. 
 
 " I was on the point," he exclaimed volubly, " of send- 
 ing up my card, and inquiring whether you would care 
 to visit a gallery or something else with me. I should 
 have seen you before this — only that my business 
 has kept me engaged. It is a terrible day — depressing, 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 197 
 
 ugly, not at all like what it has been. Yet I have 
 been out through it all, I have only just got back ! ' 
 He shook his head sadly as if to deplore such stupidity. 
 Then he continued : " The arcades here are worth 
 seeing — there is still an hour or two before lunch, I think 
 — will you come ? " He consulted his watch. 
 
 Faulconbridge had listened in some surprise. He 
 wondered why this man should be so persistent with 
 his advances, when he had not only received no en- 
 couragement, but had been actually humiliated in his 
 presence. He did not suspect him of any malevolence, 
 but he did not like his effusiveness, thinking that it 
 might tend to something else. 
 
 " Yes," he replied rather coolly, " I believe the 
 arcades are magnificent, though I have not seen them 
 yet." 
 
 14 But you must come with me then," protested the 
 Frenchman. " If you are going out, let us inspect the 
 wonderful silverwork of the Slavonski bazaar." 
 
 " I am afraid not, to-day," said Faulconbridge 
 evasively. " I have something else to do." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed the Frenchman, " an appointment, 
 perhaps." He chuckled slily, to show that between 
 men of the world these things are easily understood. 
 An appointment — a very natural thing for a young 
 man to have, though the day was rather young — that 
 was what he meant. 
 
 Faulconbridge considered him carefully for a few 
 seconds before he answered. He was inclined to be 
 angry at once with him, and for that reason he wished 
 to be doubly calm. Perhaps it was only the contrast 
 with the Frenchman's massive bulk, but he seemed 
 to have become suddenly taller, and ominously 
 severe. 
 
198 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " I have no appointment," he said finally, in a very 
 abrupt way. Somehow he conveyed the impression 
 that after careful reflection he had decided that it 
 was not worth while saying more — not worth while 
 crushing a man whom he did not honour. 
 
 Verdard, more occupied with his own interests than 
 with such subtleties, did not notice the finesse. He 
 was now convinced more than ever that not only had 
 Faulconbridge an appointment, but that the appoint- 
 ment was so important that he was determined to give 
 no hint as to what it might be. In these circumstances 
 it was equally necessary for him — Verdard — to dis- 
 simulate — so that he should not lose sight of him. 
 So he laughed a little ponderously, not showing any 
 embarrassment at all in the face of the Englishman's 
 very evident coolness. 
 
 " Since you have no appointment, shall we seat 
 ourselves a minute ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, he led the way to a 
 secluded corner, where they would have the satisfaction 
 of sitting with their backs against the wall — a wel- 
 come precaution in every cosmopolitan hotel. 
 
 Faulconbridge, somewhat to his own surprise, 
 followed him, making up his mind as he did so that 
 it would be well to terminate this attempted intimacy 
 as quickly as possible — once for all. He did not see 
 for the moment how it was to be done, but he had no 
 doubt that something would very speedily give him 
 the opportunity he desired. 
 
 Suddenly Verdard gave him the right opening. 
 With his uneasy laugh he began saying : 
 
 " What a strange adventure that was two nights 
 ago, was it not ? I have not yet recovered from the 
 effects. Think of it — I had not run at all for fifteen 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 199 
 
 years ! Am I stiff ? ' he concluded in the French 
 way, using the interrogative as an exclamation. 
 
 " I dare say you still feel the effects/' assented Faul- 
 conbridge. Then he continued very civilly : " Do 
 you mind if I refuse to discuss in any shape or form 
 the events of that evening ? " 
 
 " Refuse to discuss in any shape or form the events 
 of that evening? " repeated Verdard a little blankly; 
 " but why, my dear Monsieur, why ? We were both 
 there — we participated in those events ; what is more 
 natural than that we should discuss them in a friendly 
 way?" 
 
 " Nevertheless I do not propose to discuss them," 
 said Faulconbridge gravely. " One man alone cannot 
 discuss a question, when the person seated opposite 
 him refuses to do so. Do you understand ? " His 
 voice had taken a sharper intonation. 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed the other between his teeth, " ah 
 — you speak very decidedly, as you have done with 
 me several times before." 
 
 Verdard was getting into a rage, and was trying hard 
 to disguise it to himself. Yet at the same time he was 
 devilishly interested at the turn things had taken. 
 How much he had discovered ! It was really sur- 
 prising. This man had not only an appoint nent, but 
 was most evidently sworn to silence about the shooting 
 episode. A blind man could have seen it. It was, in- 
 deed, so plain that it was hardly worth while noting 
 for future reference. 
 
 But how had all this happened — how ? Verdard 
 determined to lose no time in finding out. 
 
 He suddenly laughed good-humouredly as if he were 
 infinitely amused. 
 
 " There is something odd in our conversation, is 
 
200 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 there not ? Every avenue I open up you close against 
 me — and yet it is impossible for two men to sit 
 silent. . . ." 
 
 " It has happened before," said Faulconbridge, 
 smiling slightly, in spite of himself, because the French- 
 man seemed so baffled. Now that he had defined his 
 attitude, he felt more conciliatory. 
 
 " Yes," assented Verdard quite earnestly, " it must 
 have happened many times before. But still I am 
 torn with curiosity to know what that girl is doing, now 
 that her lover is shot." 
 
 Almost before he knew what had happened, Faul- 
 conbridge had stood up and turned his back on 
 him. 
 
 " Sapristi," exclaimed Verdard under his breath, as 
 he realized that the Englishman had walked slowly 
 and deliberately away. " Sapristi," he repeated again 
 — half frightened with what he had done — yet feeling 
 the rebuff more and more, though it was of a nature 
 more delicate than what he generally received. 
 
 Now he got up, too, and putting his fat hands into 
 his pockets deliberately, he walked after this insolent 
 gentleman, muttering angrily all the while. He had 
 forgotten all about his original plans in his growing 
 rage. 
 
 He saw Faulconbridge glance at the great hall clock, 
 and then compare the time with his own watch. Then 
 he saw him walk irresolutely up to the desk of the 
 never-idle porter ; and then he saw him turn away 
 without speaking, as though once again he had changed 
 his mind. Finally he saw him button his coat, and 
 with a new manner rapidly thread his way through the 
 tide of people that had at last begun to surge into the 
 hotel. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A JEW DAYS 201 
 
 There was no doubt about it— he was going to his 
 appointment ; he was going to walk in spite of the 
 drizzling rain. 
 
 With a suppressed exclamation, Verdard turned up 
 the collar of his black waterproof, which he had not 
 taken off, and prepared to follow as quickly as his fat 
 legs would carry him. 
 
 The Englishman was in a hurry, too— there was no 
 doubt about that either. For as he came out on the 
 street Verdard saw his tall frame rapidly becoming 
 smaller. Ii was almost necessary to run in order to 
 keep him in sight ; but presently a block of vehicles 
 in a cross-street made the quarry come to an abrupt 
 halt. Now Verdard caught up sufficiently to be able 
 to follow without difficulty. He could still walk fast, 
 thanks to his army training, which makes French 
 soldiers the most mobile in the world. He would follow 
 this man to the devil to satisfy his great rage. 
 
 So he thought, knowing nothing of the new elements 
 which were being even then stirred in that great 
 cauldron called Fate. For the little girl, so carefully 
 instructed the previous day regarding her duties, had 
 been patiently waiting outside the hotel since an early 
 hour— sheltering herself as best she could— pretending 
 to beg every now and again whenever anyone observed 
 her too closely — being driven away only to return. 
 
 She had watched with a closeness she had never 
 watched before ; she watched like that because 
 Sasha had told her to do this work— Sasha, whom she 
 loved. She showed a quickness and an intelligence 
 far beyond her years— having been brought up in an 
 atmosphere of strange happenings and sudden flights 
 and rough revenges, which, though deeply mysterious 
 to her, formed part of her natural life, just as the natural 
 
202 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 life of the wild cat is unending warfare. Her big blue 
 eyes, peering keenly out from under the damp, tumbled 
 masses of flaxen hair, were here, there, and every- 
 where ; she was as alive and alert as a young animal 
 marking down quarry for its elders. Nothing escaped 
 her — not a single thing. 
 
 At last her patience was rewarded. She recognized 
 her man the very instant he stood framed in the 
 doorway ; and as he passed out swiftly she darted 
 after him. 
 
 But even as she darted she remembered her in- 
 structions. No sooner had they gone a sufficient 
 distance from the hotel than she ran across to the 
 opposite side of the street. From this safe distance 
 she continued to follow, her eyes alternately fixed on 
 the tall man and the unending stream of people 
 behind him. 
 
 The block on the cross-street gave her the oppor- 
 tunity she needed. Now she ran back a little way and 
 then crossed to the same side as Faulconbridge. In 
 her terror that she might lose him in the thickening 
 noonday crowd, she lost her head a little and bumped 
 into someone. Instinctively, to cover her confusion, 
 she began a whining plea for money, and then stopped 
 before half the customary words were out of her 
 mouth — aghast, almost paralysed by what had hap- 
 pened. It was no other person than the dreaded fat 
 man — the man she had been warned against — so busy 
 looking ahead that he never even glanced down 
 at her. 
 
 Suddenly, wonderfully quick for a child, she re- 
 covered herself. 
 
 " Gaspadeen," she said boldly, tugging at his coat- 
 tails. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 203 
 
 " Get away, get away," answered Verdard irritably 
 enough, moving on. 
 
 The child persisted, now frantic with fear that the 
 very thing she had been warned against was about to 
 happen. 
 
 " Gaspadeen, you are wanted by the bavin at once. 
 I have been sent, Gaspadeen." 
 
 That brought Verdard to his senses. 
 
 " Who are you ? What are you talking about ? " he 
 exclaimed in his doubtful Russian. Then he recog- 
 nized the child, and gave a whistle of surprise. " I 
 am wanted at once — why ? " 
 
 " Trouble," said the little girl, hitting by instinct 
 on the greatest compelling force in the world, " trouble ; 
 go quickly," she added. 
 
 Then, not waiting for him to answer, she darted on, 
 palpitating with fear lest she should now have lost the 
 other. 
 
XIX 
 
 THE sable gentleman, stirring the giant cauldron 
 with his spoon, and ever anxious to throw in 
 yet more innocent victims, was decidedly on 
 her side. In spite of the crowds and the delay, she 
 caught up her tall Englishman within three or four 
 minutes. He had walked straight on — as straight as an 
 arrow flies. Now quite happy in her mind she trotted 
 almost at his heels waiting for a favourable oppor- 
 tunity to speak. It had become comparatively easy, 
 and the child, who had been greatly frightened by her 
 load of responsibility, gave a convulsive sob of relief. 
 
 He was walking more slowly now, pausing to look 
 into shop-windows, and arousing resentment among 
 the hurrying throng, anxious to escape the thickening 
 rain, by the manner in which he did not hesitate to 
 stop suddenly if anything arrested his attention. At 
 last he arrived at one of the great new arcades, which 
 had been so warmly commended to his notice, and 
 moved by something more than idle curiosity, he 
 turned into it. 
 
 The child, following patiently at his heels, braced 
 herself for the second part of the day's ordeal. 
 
 The moment had arrived. In the arcade there were 
 only a few people standing at the entrance waiting for 
 the rain to stop, and with the bunches of wild flowers 
 which she still held clutched in one little hand, she 
 had an excuse to speak. 
 
 204 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 205 
 
 As he stopped to gaze at some magnificent glass, she 
 pushed the flowers up to him. Then, because he 
 shook his head and his hand mechanically wandered 
 to his pocket, she gave a sudden strange hiss. 
 
 " Hai — Sasha," she said, looking up at him eagerly, 
 and gesturing with her hands. In her excitement she 
 babbled some words of Russian. Recovering herself, 
 she repeated again and again, " Sasha, Sasha," giving 
 a Slavonic hiss to the plain word. 
 
 Now with a rapid movement she indicated that he 
 should follow ; with another gesture, finishing on the 
 point of her lips, she begged silence. Her eloquent 
 pantomime gave more point to her message than a host 
 of explanations. 
 
 Faulconbridge was overcome with astonishment, 
 and did not seek to hide it. He, too, had recognized 
 the child just as Verdard had recognized her. But 
 being English, he showed himself infinitely more 
 cautious than the Frenchman had been. 
 
 What did this mean ? Was this a real message, or 
 some snare ? Who had sent this child ? Questions 
 tumbled rapidly through his mind — and remained 
 totally unanswered and unanswerable. So he stood 
 there merely nodding his head as the child repeated 
 her well-learnt word — nodding, and yet doubting. 
 Then something made him look into the window again, 
 and what he saw gave him the impulse he needed. 
 In a big mirror so disposed that it reflected everything 
 that passed on the other side of the arcade, he sud- 
 denly saw a profile, which he instantly recognized. 
 It was the same ugly little man who haunted the 
 hotel, pretending to look somewhere else, but with his 
 ferret-like eyes turned back so that he could follow 
 Faulconbridge's every movement. " Wretched little 
 
206 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 fellow," muttered Faulconbridge, remembering all his 
 suspicions about him. 
 
 Yet it was that which decided him ; opposition 
 always kindled him. Now he gave a faint nod of 
 acquiescence, and sauntered after the child with the 
 greatest indifference. 
 
 He realized with surprise that his heart had com- 
 menced thumping inside him in a strange enough 
 manner. He could almost hear it beating. Something 
 had evidently happened to make her send for him in 
 this curious way, something grave, something ominous. 
 And just at this grave juncture there was thajt damnable 
 little fellow following on his heels. 
 
 He became irritated as he saw how the plot thickened 
 about him. He became angry because he felt strangely 
 helpless — strangely perplexed as to whither this latest 
 development would lead him. Yet now, even in the 
 midst of his embarrassment, his mind began to work 
 hurriedly, seeking for some means to throw the enemy 
 off the scent. He could think of no way at all — abso- 
 lutely no way ; and as he realized that it was impossible 
 for him to communicate with his little guide, a feeling 
 of desperation grew in him. 
 
 He could not possibly let the man follow him to his 
 destination ; somehow he must be got rid of. Yet 
 how, how, how ? he repeated to himself. ... In vain 
 he cudgelled his brains. He could not turn and knock 
 him down — he could not pick up the little girl and run 
 — he dismissed one impossible thing after another only 
 to find that it was the impossible things that kept re- 
 curring to him. He had to act without much more 
 delay — that was the long and short of it. 
 
 Well, what ? 
 
 Suddenly he smiled to himself. It had commenced 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 207 
 
 raining more heavily, and in spite of his waterproof 
 he began to feel wet. There would soon be not a soul 
 left out of doors. That was just what he wanted. 
 The little girl had now led him out of the busy thorough- 
 fares into quiet streets lined with tall buildings. The 
 tall buildings had the massive doors of those great 
 apartment -houses which are such universal products 
 of Continental life. There was probably a dvornik — 
 a concierge — somewhere about in each — and there 
 might be keys in the doors. He knew by experience 
 how lazy such men are. He remembered an incident 
 in Paris. If only he could have luck enough for that. 
 To make sure, he suddenly stopped, went into a door- 
 way, put his hand on the lock, and as rapidly came 
 out. 
 
 His smile had deepened — he would try it — when 
 he had got the right distance. It was a most remark- 
 able piece of luck. 
 
 For a few paces he went on slowly — as if a curious 
 wave of irresolution had come over him. Then, sud- 
 denly and quite unexpectedly, he wheeled on his heels 
 and walked very rapidly back, absolutely disconcerting 
 his pursuer by his manoeuvres. 
 
 The ugly little man had, indeed, come to a standstill 
 only a few feet from the door. A look of blank amaze- 
 ment was on his face as his quarry boldly approached. 
 
 " Now, please," said Faulconbridge quietly but 
 firmly in English. 
 
 With that, almost affably, he seized the little man 
 by the arm, and one, two, three, walked him through 
 the doorway. He held him in his strong grasp with 
 one hand whilst with the other he fumbled with the 
 lock. 
 
 What happened proved what audacity will often do. 
 
208 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 His captive, long used to practising such wiles on his 
 own victims, appeared so overwhelmed he could only 
 mutter incoherent words. But as he felt the strength 
 of the other man's fingers, and as he saw the look on 
 his face, an inkling of what was going to happen 
 flashed through his mind. He began struggling vio- 
 lently and protesting loudly. Faulconbridge's ringers 
 tightened on his neck. 
 
 " Down you go," he muttered. With that he tripped 
 him up roughly, hit him a stinging blow to disconcert 
 him further, and with a sudden spring leaped out of 
 the doorway. Now he slammed the door to and held 
 it tight, and with a rapid turn of the key, which he 
 had extracted from the other side, he had securely 
 locked the door. 
 
 The little girl, her eyes wide open with astonishment 
 and alarm, had run back, and was gazing at him as if 
 spellbound. 
 
 " Come," he cried, " we've got to run, and run 
 hard." 
 
 Now he seized her by the hand and together they 
 raced swiftly down the street, oblivious to the conse- 
 quences, oblivious to everything save the desire to 
 escape. 
 
XX 
 
 FATE remained decidedly on their side. In 
 ordinary circumstances it would have been too 
 much to hope that such a clumsy manoeuvre 
 would have proved successful. 
 
 Faulconbridge, as he ran almost lifting the little 
 girl off her feet in his growing excitement, expected 
 every moment to hear police whistles frantically 
 blown — police whistles which would mean a chase, 
 and then an ignominious end in a police station. But 
 though he strained his ears — though his eyes hunted 
 with all possible keenness for danger, nothing occurred 
 to bar their progress in the least. It is true the few 
 people they passed looked back in some astonishment. 
 Once also a window was thrown open and some strange 
 words were shouted down ; but as this was Russia, and 
 times were troublous, nobody attempted actually to 
 interfere. 
 
 " Phew," he exclaimed at length, pulling up and 
 beginning to walk. " A half a mile in four minutes 
 or less. I believe we have shaken the gentleman off." 
 He opened his coat and tilted his hat back in order 
 to cool his fever of anxiety. Here was a pretty pass 
 indeed, something much worse than a doubtful adven- 
 ture. It was plain madness. He had roughly handled 
 a man who was manifestly a police spy. Now he re- 
 membered what Verdard had said about him. There 
 would have to be a sequel — a nasty sequel. This was 
 14 209 
 
210 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 the maddest thing which had happened yet. And he 
 had been driven to it through no fault of his. 
 
 The little girl, still panting hard from her own 
 exertions, nodded her head at him, as he muttered 
 to himself. She was not very interested in his pre- 
 dicament, now that her own task was nearly over. 
 She was completely tired out, very wet, and much 
 bedraggled — all good reasons for silence and a lack of 
 interest. So with her disengaged hand she now pointed 
 down the street and made one, two, three sharp 
 movements — showing that they had only three more 
 turnings to arrive at their destination. 
 
 " Good," said Faulconbridge, understanding her 
 pantomime at once. " Good, the sooner the better." 
 
 And after that, until they reached the doorway which 
 finally received them, no communication passed be- 
 tween them. 
 
 There the little girl suddenly babbled again to him 
 in her inexplicable Russian. It was evident that she 
 desired him to hasten upstairs — her hands showed to 
 the very top of the house — and to go silently and quickly. 
 So without a word they set out to climb four stories ; 
 and as they ran up the last steps Faulconbridge saw, 
 framed in a dark doorway, her head enveloped in a 
 dark shawl, no other person than Sasha. . . . Here it 
 was that she had been hiding, he said to himself. 
 
 There was an expectant smile on her face, but she 
 held a warning finger to her lips. Without a word, 
 rapidly he followed her through the doorway, noticing 
 with fresh surprise that the apartment was furnished 
 quite differently from what the modest neighbourhood 
 had led him to expect. He looked at the books on the 
 long shelves, the carpets, the pictures, with a strange 
 expression on his face. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 211 
 
 " I have been waiting all the morning," she ex- 
 claimed, as soon as all the doors had been closed. 
 " All the morning, for ever so many hours. What 
 has happened, what has happened ? You look as 
 if something had happened." She drew a long 
 breath. 
 
 He dropped his hat on to a chair, drew off his wet 
 overcoat, and threw another swift glance round the 
 room before he answered. Verdard had not spent an 
 entirely fruitless morning. There was a note of re- 
 straint — almost of defiance — in his voice. This was 
 a man's room — quite unmistakably. 
 
 " This little girl will give you the story better than 
 I can," he said, with strange coldness. " It must be 
 rather commonplace for Russia — though it has been 
 rude enough for me." 
 
 He was conscious that a wondering look had flitted 
 across her face as she noted his manner and listened 
 to his words. Then, with her instinctive shrug of in- 
 difference, she accepted the situation, and turned to the 
 little girl. But as the child unfolded her tale 
 with Russian volubility a dozen conflicting emotions 
 struggled to possess her. At last one secured open 
 victory. Suddenly — almost hysterically, it seemed 
 to him — she commenced laughing, laughing so much 
 that she turned and dropped into a chair. 
 
 "Oh! What a climax," she gasped at last. " I 
 cannot help my amusement, though it means danger 
 for us all. Dear me, how amusing ! She says you 
 threw a man who was following you through a door- 
 way and jumped on him until he could speak no more. 
 Then you locked him in — and afterwards you ran 
 with her as swiftly as a horse, pulling her along. Is 
 it true, is it true ? What a scene it must have been 1 * 
 
212 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 Now she clasped her hands over her bosom in a vain 
 effort to control her mirth. 
 
 " You have not told some of the details correctly," 
 replied Faulconbridge, feeling more hurt than ever. 
 " I merely threw the man — I do not jump on people. 
 It is not an English custom." 
 
 She had stopped laughing as he spoke. Now she 
 looked at him steadily and defiantly. 
 
 " Really," she replied just as coldly. " You are 
 wonderfully superior in your methods — in England. 
 But you must remember that in Russia we are rougher, 
 more natural in our hates and our loves, more emo- 
 tional, more frank than you are in England, Mister 
 Faulconbridge. You must always remember that." 
 
 Then, very deliberately, she turned her back on 
 him again, and completed her questioning of the child. 
 In dignified silence he awaited her next move. It 
 came very soon. 
 
 Standing up in her quick way, she came nearer to him. 
 
 " I must thank you greatly for what you have done. 
 You have acted very carefully indeed, though the 
 matter can scarcely interest you." 
 
 She had spoken with studied politeness, carefully 
 watching to see what he would answer. 
 
 He waved her thanks aside— not at all grateful for 
 her praise. 
 
 " I doubt whether my help has assisted," he said 
 in sudden gloom. " Indeed, I doubt it very much; on 
 the contrary, I may have made things worse — a great 
 deal worse." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked quickly. 
 
 " You forget that though I threw off this man- 
 though I managed to get to you— the relief is only 
 temporary. He knows me just as I know him." 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 213 
 
 " He knows you just as you know him ? " she inter- 
 rupted, turning pale. 
 
 " Yes. He is a small, ugly man, with a black beard, 
 a scar over the right eye." 
 
 " Gavrilloff, Gavrilloff," she exclaimed, almost in 
 a whisper, not allowing him to proceed any further. 
 " That man — that man — always that man ! Oh, what 
 
 have you done ? " Then she stopped, because she 
 
 dared not tell him that this was the very person whom 
 they suspected of having fired that night — fired to kill. 
 He had beaten Gavrilloff, the spy. . . . What madness 
 this. . . . 
 
 " I did what I could," answered Faulconbridge a 
 little bitterly. " You will have understood that I 
 had no other course open to me — unless it was to give 
 up coming to you at all. I decided that I must take 
 the risk — since I had promised to come when you sent 
 for me. I did not really hurt the man. I merely 
 stopped him from following me." He paused, not know- 
 ing exactly how to conclude. " In any case, I am now 
 here to help you as far as lies within my power." 
 
 His glance remained fixed on her. Now, as he stood 
 silently there, he noticed in some amazement that her 
 fear appeared to have passed. 
 
 For several minutes she rested her chin upon her 
 hand and studied him silently — as if not yet con- 
 vinced of the frankness of his attitude, as if trying to 
 pierce the meaning of his first reserve. Her eyes seemed 
 to search him through and through. Serious and un- 
 flinching they wandered all over his face, trying to 
 extract meaning from his seriousness — trying to find 
 that which had made his jaws set so firmly the very 
 moment he had entered the room. 
 
 Her quest was in vain, and at length she gave it up. 
 
214 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " For some reason I am inclined to doubt you," she 
 said in an absent-minded way. " Something has 
 happened to you since I saw you last — something has 
 come into your head which was not there before. 
 What is it ? " 
 
 " Many things have happened since I last saw you," 
 he replied evasively. " I have talked to your friend 
 the doctor, for instance." 
 
 " I know, I know," she exclaimed impatiently ; 
 " and yet you are not the same as you were before." 
 She turned to the little girl. " Go," she said abruptly 
 in Russian. The child curtsied, and rapidly went out. 
 
 Sasha remained quite still until the door had closed. 
 Then she rose and went to the reading-table set at 
 the window. A number of books lay open just as 
 the blond dreamer had left them days before. One 
 she took up idly. Now very lightly she ran a finger 
 across a page and looked at it pensively. 
 
 " Already covered with dust in three short days," 
 she murmured. "It is like that with everything — 
 the brightest page is soon overlaid." She turned 
 suddenly. " What is the matter with you ? Tell 
 me ! " she commanded sharply. 
 
 Faulconbridge instinctively cleared his throat, as 
 if the ordeal demanded all his ability. He did not 
 know why he should so suddenly see the futility of all 
 arguments ; yet the feeling now overcame him that 
 words — explanations — had become out of place. It 
 was far better not to talk at all than to attempt to 
 explain something which was inexplicable. 
 
 He looked around in hesitation. 
 
 " There is nothing the matter with me," he replied 
 shortly — making up his mind at the last moment. He 
 would not say a word. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 215 
 
 He was conscious that her eyes had hardened as if 
 he were fast arousing her enmity. 
 
 " That is not true ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 He smiled — in spite of his preoccupation. She was 
 always so brusque. 
 
 " Then I am tired after my morning's experience — 
 alarmed at what I was forced to do with that wretched 
 little man in order to get here at all — afraid of what 
 the future holds for me, as well as for you. Why can 
 you not accept that ? " 
 
 " Because it is not true ! ' she exclaimed again. 
 " There must be something else. You are not the kind 
 of man who becomes afraid. Listen. You were so 
 kind and tender to me before so many ugly things 
 had happened. I believed in you more than in any man 
 I had ever met. You said you were willing to do any- 
 thing for me — that night my brother was shot." 
 
 "Your brother?' he exclaimed, rising from his 
 seat ; " your brother ? " he repeated almost incredu- 
 lously, staring at her. 
 
 " Yes," she said indifferently, not understanding 
 him yet ; " there is no harm in your knowing now, since 
 you know so much, that Baron Vonnergrot is my half- 
 brother." 
 
 " Your half-brother ? " he repeated almost joyfully ; 
 " I would never have guessed it in a thousand years." 
 
 His manner had so entirely changed that her quick 
 mind was attracted by his volte-face. She looked at 
 him steadily ; then suddenly she gave an exclama- 
 tion. 
 
 •'Ah!" she exclaimed disdainfully, " I understand 
 you better now." 
 
 He coloured slowly as he realized what he had in- 
 advertently done. Yet he had done nothing at all. . . . 
 
216 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 He could not think. He remembered only that no 
 matter what their relative positions might be at the 
 opening of each contest, it seemed inevitable that 
 she should always checkmate him after very few 
 moves. 
 
 Some minutes ticked away in ominous silence. 
 Sasha stood drumming the ground with her foot, 
 glancing from time to time at this man who was at 
 once so difficult and so easy to handle. She was 
 thinking of the problem ahead of her — thinking of it, 
 and fearing it — yet secretly glad at the turn things had 
 taken. 
 
 " I owe you an apology," said Faulconbridge at 
 length, a little clumsily but quite sincerely, " for 
 having misinterpreted certain facts — will you forgive 
 me and remain my friend ? " He held out his hand. 
 
 Instantly she became different. 
 
 " How foolish we are," she murmured, " to be 
 engaged in quarrelling when soon we may be separated 
 for ever. Listen to me ; I sent for you because I 
 needed you, because you can help me, because you 
 are necessary to me. The doctor has told you so much 
 that there is little for me to add save certain personal 
 details — things which concern me. I sent for you 
 because I can no longer wait — the time for action has 
 come." 
 
 " I suppose there is nothing for it but for the in- 
 evitable tragedy to play itself out," Faulconbridge 
 answered a little wearily, thinking that she would 
 merely repeat what the doctor had already told him, 
 using a slightly different form. " Yet I have no 
 interest in it all — I can have no interest — that is, of 
 course, were it not for you." 
 
 " Yes ? " she murmured interrogatively. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 217 
 
 There was written on her features something 
 which aroused in him a new concern. He looked 
 at her now with curiosity mixed with apprehension. 
 Her lips remained parted as though she had summoned 
 back words which had been on the point of going 
 beyond recall. There was something peculiarly 
 arresting in her attitude. 
 
 Very deliberately she came up to him. 
 
 " Your interest inme?" she said softly. " What is 
 your interest to me ? ' 
 
 Suddenly embarrassed— not understanding her— 
 
 he fenced the question. 
 
 "My interest in you?" he echoed. "Well, how 
 shall I put it ? You have often told me, in the few 
 short days that I have known you, that my strength 
 does not lie in being subtle." He paused for a frac- 
 tion of a second, and then completed what he had to 
 say : "I have for you— a very warm feeling." 
 
 " A very warm feeling ? " She had seated herself 
 on the arm of his chair and now looked down at his 
 face. "A very warm feeling? " she repeated softly. 
 
 " Yes," he said a little gruffly, because she stirred 
 in him so with emotion. " That is quite true, though 
 it may seem strange." 
 
 " How much would you do for me ? * 
 
 " Almost anything, I believe," he muttered ; " you 
 are a little temptress— a syren, Sasha." For the first 
 time he pronounced her name. 
 
 Now she laughed very softly and her arm stole round 
 
 his neck. 
 
 " What cruel names to give me," she murmured into 
 his ear. " You are never nattering to me. Do you 
 want to kiss me— Dick— as much as I want to kiss 
 
 you : 
 
218 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 His answer was lost in the confusion of her embrace, 
 and as he felt her soft lips against his he knew that 
 her hour had come. 
 
 In truth he was confounded. The blood surged to 
 his head, a storm of passion was in his veins. Yet, 
 though his will-power was rapidly vanishing, though 
 he was overwhelmed with emotion because of her 
 embrace, he still realized through it all that the conse- 
 quences of any surrender would be so far-reaching, so 
 immense, that it was impossible to imagine the end. 
 He knew that he was a fool, that he had been a fool 
 from the very beginning, and that once again he 
 must begin to pay the inevitable price of folly. He 
 thought all this rapidly, confusedly — struggling to 
 retain his common sense, to fight the insidious poison 
 stealing through him ; struggling, and not entirely 
 succeeding. 
 
 " Do you want — to love me ? " murmured the girl 
 passionately. " I have never loved anyone yet — I 
 swear it. You will be the first — the very first." She 
 did not wait for him to answer, but only clasped him 
 closer — as he stirred uneasily, breathing quickly in 
 his distress. " You can love me all you want, if you 
 help me in a little thing — a very small thing. Will 
 you promise, Dick ? " 
 
 She had commenced rubbing her cheek softly 
 against his cheek. Her arms were locked so tightly 
 round his neck that he could not move. Now she slid 
 slowly from the arm of the chair, and as he felt the 
 pressure of her soft body, the man choked with 
 emotion. 
 
 " What is it you want of me ? ' he muttered, in 
 a last effort to remain calm. " Speak quickly ; do 
 not delay." 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 219 
 
 She continued to rub her cheek against his : in 
 that position it was scarcely necessary for her to 
 whisper. 
 
 " I want something, which you, because you are 
 an Englishman, a foreigner, not suspected as we are 
 — can get for me without great difficulty. I have the 
 plan all ready." 
 
 "Ah," he exclaimed sharply, as if he had been 
 pricked. He understood better now. That was the 
 price. " You want me to get something for you ; 
 go on." 
 
 She felt him stiffen beneath her, and because of 
 that she went on more cautiously. 
 
 " It will be nothing for you," she murmured ; 
 " nothing at all ; and by doing so you will save hun- 
 dreds, perhaps thousands, from a cruel death. . . . 
 Will you help me, Dick ? " 
 
 " I do not see how I can do what you want better 
 than anyone else," he said slowly, talking to give 
 himself courage, and to ward off the temptation. 
 " I do not see it at all — just yet. You must explain — 
 properly, carefully." He tried to hold her away from 
 him, to look into her eyes, but it was in vain. 
 
 For fearing that he had not yet been convinced, 
 instinctively she continued to delay the climax — the 
 telling of the real secret. 
 
 "It is so easy for you — it will be a matter of a 
 few minutes," she murmured. " Will you not promise 
 nrs t — n ow— and then we need not think of the details 
 until later on — when you leave me — this evening or 
 to-morrow? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 As he spoke the word he lifted her a little in his 
 arms, so that she no longer oppressed him. That 
 
220 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 attitude had suddenly become unseemly — he could 
 not tolerate it and retain his manliness. 
 
 Her breath was coming and going very quickly now 
 as if he had startled her — as if that single mono- 
 syllable had struck terror into her. Once before — but 
 only once — she had met a stubborn man like this, an 
 officer in the Cavalry of the Guards at Warsaw. He 
 had been more dramatic than this man — he had torn 
 open his shirt and offered her his revolver, saying, 
 " Kill me if you will, but do not dishonour 
 me." 
 
 If this Englishman failed her she was lost. 
 
 " But, Dick," she cried in a new tone, " you do not 
 know what a refusal would mean to me. I should 
 have to try myself — my life would be over. My 
 chances of success are so small that they cannot 
 be said to exist. You — you are my last chance." 
 
 Involuntarily Faulconbridge pushed her a little 
 further away, and sat up. 
 
 " Explain yourself," he said almost roughly. " There 
 has been enough of this beating about the bush. I am 
 to blame as much as you. That I know. But enough. 
 You must be frank." 
 
 For a long interval they looked at one another 
 steadily ; then at length his resolution proved the 
 stronger, and she gave way. 
 
 " Within five days," she said slowly, " this great 
 thing, for which we have all been waiting, commences. 
 The exact date and hour was decided on weeks ago — 
 everybody behind the scenes knows about it — soldiers, 
 officials, supporters, everybody. It is a tremendous 
 plot, almost openly hatched. But what everybody 
 does not know are the details — the precise details. The 
 government knows that the people will revolt — the 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 221 
 
 people know that the government will attempt to 
 repress them. Yet neither knows what are the prin- 
 cipal measures of the other. It is essential that we 
 should learn the military plan for holding this city — 
 the plan has long been prepared, we have rough details 
 concerning it — but the precise nature is not known 
 to us. At all costs we must know that — at all costs — 
 because then, with the few soldiers who are left, we 
 can be quite sure of success. Do you understand ? " 
 She paused, breathless from her long speech. 
 
 " I begin to understand," said Faulconbridge 
 slowly. " Do not stop." 
 
 Now, mistaking his manner once again, she went on 
 quickly : 
 
 " Our friends have kept us so well informed that we 
 know exactly where the documents we need are to be 
 found. If we could obtain them only for one short 
 hour, it would mean certain victory for us." 
 
 " It would mean certain victory for you ? " he echoed 
 incredulously. " But the documents would be missed, 
 and the commonest simpleton would know that they 
 had been stolen. The whole military plan would be 
 at once changed, and you would have had all your 
 trouble and your danger for nothing. Can you not 
 see that — are you all blind ? " 
 
 The fire of enthusiasm which had once burnt in him, 
 because of the doctor's words, suddenly died out. He 
 saw, with the Englishman's inherent common sense, 
 the folly of a movement which could not possess the 
 iron organization — the drilled numbers — which in 
 modern times alone ensure success. He saw in the 
 near distance a tremendous tragedy looming up — a 
 tragedy in which all such as she would be surely en- 
 gulfed. It was madness, folly for this girl to match 
 
222 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 her strength against such odds. In his eyes the out- 
 look suddenly became hopeless. 
 
 He looked at her pityingly. Still, she was not yet 
 beaten. 
 
 " Wrongly reasoned," she had exclaimed trium- 
 phantly, " wrongly reasoned, my friend ! We will 
 not keep the documents — we will restore them at once. 
 And even if they were missed it would make no dif- 
 ference. It is too late to make any changes of import- 
 ance ; we shall know the disposition of the troops — and 
 their exact numbers. It is impossible to change some 
 things, because of the war which is eating up the re- 
 sources of the country. Some of our people are officers : 
 they will know at once what changes cannot be made 
 on the spur of the moment." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Faulconbridge, seeing the force of 
 her reasoning, in spite of his distaste for it all. 
 
 She saw her advantage and eagerly pressed it. 
 
 " That is our chief need now — to take them at a 
 disadvantage — because if we take them at a disad- 
 vantage, and hold them at an advantage for a few 
 days, the weakling who lives in Czarskoe Zelo will 
 certainly give way. That we know already — we are 
 sure of that — from sympathizers at the Court. And 
 the documents will mean for us not only victory, but 
 will prevent the spilling of much innocent blood. 
 Humanity demands that we obtain them — if only for 
 an hour." 
 
 Faulconbridge looked at her fixedly. He was 
 thinking of the doctor again ; of the great story which 
 he had unfolded. Faulconbridge was thinking that 
 these plotters were both damnably clever and damn- 
 ably childish. 
 
 " Where are the papers ? " he inquired abruptly. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 223 
 
 She searched his face with her eyes and then looked 
 down so as to hide her own thoughts. An intolerable 
 suspicion had suddenly crossed her mind that he might 
 not be as simple as he seemed. She had already hope- 
 lessly compromised herself. What if he should turn 
 on her ? 
 
 " Why do you want to know ? " she answered 
 slowly. " Do you hear my question — why ? " 
 
 Suddenly she seized and shook his arm as if she 
 wished to force the truth from him. She was filled 
 with open anxiety. 
 
 " Why ? " he echoed. " Well, I cannot tell you 
 why exactly — since I have made up my mind about 
 nothing yet. I wish to say something to you first." 
 
 Now he took her hand. 
 
 " Listen," he said to her gently, " you are too 
 young and childlike to be involved in such brutal 
 things. I do not pretend to know what this movement 
 means, or what will happen, or how things will go. 
 Clever men are possibly guiding it all — far-seeing men 
 who are bringing every influence to bear to ensure 
 success, and who know exactly what they are facing. 
 But even success will demand the heaviest penalties — 
 and as I look at you I somehow see you sacrificing 
 yourself in a hopeless task. This is no business for a 
 girl. Listen to me, I say." 
 
 He looked at her imploringly. 
 
 But already she had drawn her hand from his with 
 a sudden gesture of indignation. This cold English- 
 man would never understand ; he would keep on 
 arguing as if this were an everyday matter subject 
 to everyday laws ; what was the use of trying to kindle 
 him ? Then, when she had got as far as this in her 
 thinking, suddenly she remembered once more her 
 
224 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 urgent need of him, how essential it had become for her 
 to gain his co-operation, now that confederate after 
 confederate was disappearing. Quickly, almost hysteri- 
 cally, she began to talk. 
 
 " Why are you so blind, so blind? " she exclaimed. 
 Can you not see that the indirect results may be very 
 different from the apparent verdict of the battle- 
 field ? You must know that it is not the battle that 
 matters, but the consequences flowing from it. Victory 
 sometimes is really to the vanquished — if they have 
 the courage to drag down the victors with them in 
 their fall, just as a drowning man can pull down with 
 him the strongest swimmer. It is that prospect which 
 helps us — desperate as the outlook may seem. For 
 we have more courage than the others ; being more 
 desperate we are more determined. And just because 
 of that we may win even when defeat is upon us." 
 She paused — breathless from the vehemence with 
 which she had spoken. Then, more slowly, she con- 
 cluded : "Do you think we do not know everything 
 you have said — do you think we do not understand 
 these things — we who have been working for them all 
 our lives ? " 
 
 Now she looked at him almost wonderingly, with 
 the amazement which a fatalist feels in the presence of 
 a believer in the potency of free-will. As he realized 
 that the desire to be sacrificed had been reared in her 
 — just as blind obedience is reared in the hearts of the 
 disciples of Loyola — his own heart sank. 
 
 A minute passed in silence, during which she in- 
 tently studied him. Would it be better to draw back 
 — before it was too late ? No — that was impossible. 
 
 "I am going to tell you everything," she said 
 abruptly, " because — because I have already told 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 225 
 
 you so much that a little more cannot matter. Listen, 
 you must have noticed a tall, handsome man in a 
 general's uniform come into the hotel." 
 
 " The Grand-Duke ? " interrupted Faulconbridge. A 
 look of great surprise had come over his features. 
 
 " Yes, the Grand-Duke. He is here officially, though 
 nominally he remains incognito. He will assume com- 
 mand of the town directly a state of siege is proclaimed. 
 It is he who possesses those papers." 
 
 The Englishman's face had slowly hardened. He 
 was no longer in doubt. 
 
 " And the only thing you require," he said slowly, 
 " is a thief to steal those papers." He paused suffi- 
 ciently long to give point to his last words. " I thank 
 you very much for the honour you have done me — in 
 selecting me for a task which is doubtless a great and 
 worthy one — but which I formally decline." 
 
 Sasha sprang to her feet ; something in his eyes 
 goaded her beyond restraint. 
 
 " So mine is a singer's love which can be declined 
 with thanks ! " she burst out passionately. " Pray, 
 when have I asked you for money ? " 
 
 He made no reply. 
 
 She paced up and down unceasingly. 
 
 Then she suddenly came to a stop before him, and 
 faced him in tense silence. 
 
 " Look then, fool. Understand what this means for 
 
 me ! " 
 
 Without warning, she pulled open her corsage and 
 
 confronted him. 
 
 " You have asked for ill-fortune for me and mine— 
 you will have to share it— you are known to the secret 
 police." She plunged her hand into her corsage, drew 
 out a miniature revolver, showed how it was loaded 
 
 15 
 
226 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 with cartridges, then slipped the weapon back into a 
 pocket. " I, on my part, am ready for them — am ready 
 to die." 
 
 Faulconbridge was dumb with astonishment. 
 
 In spite of the fact that her face was now distorted 
 with anger, it remained beautiful with an odd, uneven 
 kind of beauty. Her eyes still blazed at him, her chin 
 was tilted up, her lips parted so widely as to show her 
 teeth, which now seemed sharp and vulpine. Yet her 
 delicate skin, and the bewitching mole, seemed to belie 
 this sudden outburst of passion, and to tell him that 
 it could not last. 
 
 " Speak, fool," she cried wildly. " What are you 
 going to do, now that you have played with fire ? " 
 
 But Faulconbridge 's mouth was dry. He was over- 
 whelmed. He had nothing to say. 
 
 His silence seemed to infuriate her. Twice she 
 opened her lips to speak, and twice speech failed her. 
 Twice she lifted her hand as if she would even strike 
 him, and twice her hand dropped. . . . 
 
 " Go," she exclaimed at length, in a choking voice, 
 " go — to me you are worthless — do you understand ? — 
 a worthless thing. Go." 
 
 He rose without haste, and walked silently to the 
 door. 
 
 As he closed it, in spite of the seething turmoil in 
 his heart, in spite of his bewilderment, it suddenly 
 struck him with odd force that he was going from her 
 just as strangely as the doctor had gone from him but 
 two short days before. 
 
XXI 
 
 SHE had watched him go with a quivering face. 
 She had heard rather than saw him close the 
 door, her eyes so dim with rebellious tears that 
 everything swam before her. Then, when a second 
 sound told her that the outer door had set the seal on 
 this cruel decision, she ran suddenly on the tips of her 
 toes like a playful child into the hall, and stood there 
 stockstill — listening and hoping against hope. In that 
 attitude of suspense, with one hand pressed to her 
 heart, and the other lightly laid against the wall, she 
 made a charming picture. It was as if she had been 
 playing hide-and-seek, and had hidden herself so well 
 that she had unwittingly made an end of the 
 game. . . . 
 
 She listened, scarcely breathing, to the sound of 
 those relentless footsteps growing ever fainter — still 
 hoping against hope. Just then she might have stood 
 for those tender lines written in the time of a greater 
 " Terror " : 
 
 " Ah ! S'il est vrai que l'espe'rance 
 Au sein des plus affreux tourments 
 Soit pour nous une jouissance, 
 Nous jouissons depuis long temps." 
 
 He would have to come back, he must come back, 
 she said to herself again and again. It was not possible 
 that after so much tenderness he could be so cruel. 
 He would relent, oh yes I he would relent ! Then, as 
 
 227 
 
228 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 the inexorable fact was slowly borne on her that he 
 had really gone for good, she ran back into the room, 
 shut and locked the door, and piteously peered down 
 out of the window. 
 
 Yes — there he was slowly walking away, as if he 
 were deep in thought. . . . She longed to yield to her 
 gnawing desire to have him back — to call frantically 
 down to him to return before it was too late — to say 
 anything, everything. But she was too proud for 
 that — she must accept and bear her defeat. 
 
 And her shame. . . . 
 
 She bit her lips quickly and fiercely in a vain effort 
 to conquer the great emotion that was so quickly 
 welling up, the great emotion that would soon swallow 
 up everything in its great tide. She fought the weak- 
 ness quiveringly for a few more seconds ; then, sud- 
 denly, without knowing why or how, she surrendered, 
 and dropped into the chair by the plain deal table 
 covered with books. 
 
 She wept as she did everything, with her whole 
 heart and soul, as if the world had come to an end and 
 nothing mattered. Her body shook with the shock of 
 her great weeping ; it was as if some spirit of evil 
 possessed her and was bent on exhausting all her 
 strength. She sat there, with her fair young arms 
 clasping the plain deal table in a frantic embrace, and 
 her head pressed down between them ; whilst her soft 
 brown hair, unloosed by this emotional violence, fell 
 across the books, and completed the picture of youthful 
 despair. 
 
 Her plan had broken down completely — it had sud- 
 denly become a childish thing, a stupidity, a grotesque 
 conception. He had shown her that it was even worse 
 than all these things. It was a base plan — a very base 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 229 
 
 plan. In the extremes of emotion, which are so easily 
 touched by passionate natures, everything now cried 
 to her that she had made herself for ever vile. She 
 had been willing to barter herself — she had offered 
 herself for a price. . . . She could not disguise it to 
 herself any longer — she had been willing to make 
 herself vile to save her precious plan. She, who had 
 been so puissant and so pure. What cruel Fate had 
 willed her birth ? . . . 
 
 Her emotion wore itself out in great floods of tears 
 that were good for her since they washed her clean. 
 The tears coursed down her face and overlaid that poor 
 philosopher's delusion — the Categorical Imperative. 
 They blurred two whole pages of Monsieur Bloch's 
 engaging theories ; they even threatened to destroy 
 him entirely with the swift violence with which he 
 had credited modern arms. The girl wept as she had 
 never wept before. And all because a man had re- 
 fused her. 
 
 Refused her — refused her ! She kept on repeating 
 the words to herself so that the full extent of this 
 crushing calamity should be impressed on her with 
 all its far-reaching consequences. Cost what it might, 
 she would now have to make the attempt alone — by 
 herself. And if she failed ? Well, she would do it and 
 die. . . . Now she felt in the pocket of her skirt for 
 the tiny ivory-mounted revolver which never left her. 
 Taking it up she pressed upon it a fierce, cruel kiss, 
 and as she kissed she was conscious of a hot 
 thirst. 
 
 She raised her head, and then fell back in her chair, 
 gazing at the bright, warm sunshine without. 
 
 There was much twittering among the audacious 
 little sparrows which were now fluttering round the 
 
230 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 windows, doubtless commenting on this great pother, 
 when elsewhere there was nothing but peace and con- 
 tentment. The little birds, so friendly and so simple, 
 engaged her attention — and lovingly she stretched out 
 a hand as if to caress them. They carried her thoughts 
 far back to her early girlhood, to her childhood ; she 
 remembered with fresh bitterness how happy had been 
 those distant days. The large, commodious country- 
 house on the great Polish plain — the farm animals, 
 the horses in the stables, the dogs — all these things came 
 back to her. She remembered the glamour of harvest- 
 time, with the great fields golden-brown in their ripe- 
 ness — the peasants in their gay shirts camping at 
 night in rude canvas tents where they had left off 
 working so that not one minute of the daylight hours 
 should be missed. She could even smell the sweet 
 smell of the ripe corn — she could see the swarms of 
 sparrows, which in spite of scarecrows and gun-shots 
 seemed to grow more and more numerous every year, 
 until their impudence was unbounded. Happier little 
 sparrows than these — with the ripe fields to feed upon 
 and the unclouded skies above. . . . 
 
 It was a very old, old story. It had all been taken 
 from them : the country-house, the rich fields, the green 
 woods, because her father had become a "Political," 
 and had been forced to flee suddenly across the German 
 frontier and lose everything for fear of a worse fate. 
 So little had been left them out of their abundance 
 that had it not been for kind relatives they might even 
 for a while have starved. And then her father and 
 mother had died — and, save for her half-brother, she 
 had counted herself alone in the world. 
 
 There had been many dreary months after that for 
 her alone in England — months during which she had 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 231 
 
 vainly besought her brother to allow her to join him. 
 But he had always refused ; he had always given 
 reasons which she could not understand. She knew 
 that there was something behind it all — she had been 
 old enough before her mother and father had been 
 taken from her to pierce in a measure the veil of 
 mystery which they assumed whenever she was present. 
 She had burned to know exactly what it might be that 
 had harmed them all so much, but it was not until 
 years afterwards that fate had become kind to her — 
 delivering her brother's secret into her hands. She 
 discovered it quite by accident ; he had become a far 
 more dangerous man than his father had been before 
 him. 
 
 He had been in Paris at the time — coming to see 
 her constantly, though he was often absent for weeks. 
 One afternoon a packet covered in brown paper had 
 been left for him. It was marked " private " in one 
 corner, and " immediate " in another, and for that 
 reason it excited her unbounded curiosity. Private ? 
 Immediate ? What could that mean ? She was only 
 sixteen and the temptation was irresistible. She 
 fought it for a longtime, and then suddenly surrendered. 
 It could not hurt anyone very much if she had one 
 little peep. . . . 
 
 She had opened the parcel with infinite care so that 
 nobody could possibly see that it had been tampered 
 with. She had always had quick, clever fingers, and 
 she put all the art she had in them to undo the parcel — 
 without breaking the seals. It required great per- 
 severance, but she at length succeeded. The formidable 
 cover was off ! 
 
 The contents puzzled her more even than the super- 
 
232 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 scription and packing had done — and her labour 
 seemed in vain. It was full of papers covered with 
 writing which looked like gibberish. It was nothing 
 but cipher. She conned over it all in vain for an hour 
 and more. She had just given up all hope of elucidat- 
 ing its meaning, when a servant knocked and informed 
 her that a foreign gentleman, who said he was a com- 
 patriot of hers, desired to speak to her urgently, 
 privately. Full of a new feeling of guilt, she hastily 
 hid the parcel and ran quickly downstairs. 
 
 In the drawing-room she found a very polite man 
 who addressed her most deferentially in Polish, and who 
 asked her, with hardly any introductory remarks, if in 
 the absence of her brother she could kindly let him have 
 a parcel of papers left there that morning. He had 
 been sent to get them back at once ; it had been 
 discovered at the last moment that they had been 
 delivered incomplete ; it was of the utmost importance 
 to have them correct. He was particularly anxious 
 about the matter, because he was largely to blame for 
 the mistake. 
 
 Sasha had listened attentively — some instinct tell- 
 ing her to beware. So at first she merely re- 
 marked : 
 
 " Describe the parcel, so that I may look for 
 it." 
 
 Then her caller had described it — incorrectly. At 
 once she had jumped to her own conclusions. 
 
 " Certainly I will bring it to you if I can find it. 
 But there are many things lying about." 
 
 With that answer she had rushed upstairs ; gathered 
 together some old Russian newspapers ; carefully 
 measured and folded them ; then tied them up and 
 inserted them in the parcel in place of the cipher 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 233 
 
 correspondence. Never before had she been so quick 
 and neat with her fingers — the precious correspond- 
 ence demanded it, this correspondence which she had 
 so providentially discovered. Then she had rushed 
 downstairs again. 
 
 " Is this what you require ? It was hard to find," 
 she murmured innocently. 
 
 " Precisely. You have relieved me greatly. It is 
 only among one's compatriots that one finds such 
 intelligence. Allow me to give you a receipt." 
 
 He wrote rapidly, and then with other words of 
 profuse thanks made his departure. 
 
 When he had gone, Sasha had run up to her room, 
 flung herself wildly on her bed, and lain there con- 
 vulsed with laughter. She had laughed half the after- 
 noon. Oh ! the rage he would be in ! Oh ! the oaths 
 he would use ! . . . She almost wished she had written 
 something on one of the newspapers to tell him what 
 he really was ! Never had she enjoyed such a delicious 
 triumph — it was all the sweeter because she herself 
 had seemed so guilty. 
 
 In the evening she became more serious — her 
 brother would come that evening, and she intended 
 to demand payment in full. It would be his secret 
 for hers. 
 
 " A parcel came for you this morning," she began 
 nonchalantly, as soon as they were alone. 
 
 At once he became interested. 
 
 " A parcel— where is it ?— give it to me quickly." 
 
 She waved to him to be more patient. 
 
 " I have not finished yet. A man came for the 
 parcel this afternoon— a fellow-countryman, who said 
 it was needed back, as the papers enclosed were not 
 
234 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 complete. He described the parcel to me — he said 
 he was your friend. Here is his card." 
 
 " Well." Her brother had spoken the word breath- 
 lessly. He had become very pale as he had listened to 
 her. Now he stared at the visiting-card as if it were a 
 fetich. 
 
 " I gave the parcel to him "—she stopped him with 
 an abrupt movement of her quick hands as he rose 
 from his seat like a man in a trance — " but with Rus- 
 sian newspapers substituted for the cipher corre- 
 spondence. Was that right ? " 
 
 For one whole minute he had stood staring at her, 
 as if transfixed. 
 
 " With Russian newspapers substituted for the 
 cipher correspondence ? " he repeated at length, like a 
 man in a dream. " Sasha, how did you know — how 
 did you know ? Oh, Sasha, tell me. . . ." He came up 
 to her and clasped her hands, and looked into her eyes 
 deeply, almost menacingly. 
 
 She merely shrugged her shoulders to show that she 
 was quite calm and collected. 
 
 " I am no fool, Sergei ! Do you suppose I give 
 things to strangers ? But more than that, do you think 
 your father's daughter cannot play a game as well as 
 you ? The correspondence is safely locked up in my 
 box — the key is in my pocket, and the devil himself 
 could not wheedle me out of it. Do you think your 
 father's daughter cannot play a game as well as you ? ' 
 she repeated once more, as if the phrase enchanted her. 
 
 " Ah," he had exclaimed, sinking into a chair as if 
 the shock of relief had entirely exhausted him, " we 
 had different mothers, but the same father — yes, the 
 same father — that is indeed true. They nearly caught 
 me this way before. It was the same sort of lucky 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 235 
 
 chance which saved me. And now you wish to know 
 what it is — what it all means ? " 
 
 Then he had told her, plainly, simply. It was the 
 old cause, the great cause, the impossible cause, the 
 cause of liberty by way of revolution. He had talked 
 to her splendidly, as we all talk when we put great 
 dreams into drunken words — sketching out the future 
 as if there were no God to decide precisely what that 
 is to be. Revolution, war, liberty, fraternity — how 
 stupid they all are, and how dearly we love them, as 
 if they were all members of the same family, related to 
 us by the closest of close blood-ties ! And yet they 
 are all follies, ideals, which to be realized, even in part, 
 entail endless suffering. . . . 
 
 He had talked long and late, and the upshot was 
 that he was to secure her entry into his society. That, 
 he had said, was essential. It was an agricultural 
 society officially recognized and sanctioned. "It is 
 always by means of societies and associations and 
 clubs that we organize ourselves and proceed to work 
 — to save people from drunkenness to blow up govern- 
 ments, to launch new religions, even, it is said, to 
 promote the waning popularity of babies. ..." 
 
 And so the half-fledged schoolgirl had become a 
 little revolutionary in the heart of the gayest capital 
 in the world. Yet that was the least remarkable part 
 of it all. Half the actors in Europe's frantic scenes 
 pass their apprenticeship almost under the shadow of 
 the great Triumphal Arch erected to the God of 
 Battles. 
 
 She had been carefully prepared to play a part. It 
 is always necessary to do that even when there is no 
 very serious object in view. In due course, she had 
 
236 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 blossomed forth as a cafe chantant singer — an innocent 
 enough occupation which has often been affected by 
 fair intrigantes for purposes other than revolt. She 
 had a charming young voice, as clear and as sweet as 
 a silver bell ; and when her mood was gay she was of 
 the type to make the oldest roues go mad, being the 
 picture of innocence. Innocence — innocence, what a 
 spur you are to jaded appetites 1 
 
 Her occupation was only a mask, a cloak, of course. 
 Yet it gave her a raison d'etre ; a standing which al- 
 lowed her to come and go ; to appear and disappear 
 with all the apparent thoughtlessness of a very young 
 woman who cares nothing for the sacredness of con- 
 tracts. And so she had soon become familiar with 
 many of the great Russian towns — she knew them 
 well, and they knew her. 
 
 And she showed herself very useful. Not only was 
 she a clever messenger, but a clever instrument as well. 
 She had not done anything very great, it is true, but 
 she had lived in an atmosphere of political intrigue 
 which fascinated her — she heard men of culture and 
 fashion talk as casually of assassinations as though they 
 were the merest bagatelles. She became familiar with 
 the insidious language of our latter-day Jesuitism, 
 which not only lays down that the end justifies the 
 means, but boldly pours the vials of wrath and con- 
 tempt on all who are not prepared to admit the 
 validity of such arguments. The cause, the great 
 cause — that is everything. . . . No matter whether 
 that cause be, as we have suggested, of a nature almost 
 indiscreet. 
 
 It was frantic work — in which the slums sided with 
 science, and youth and beauty and intelligence mixed 
 with stupid brutes — scowling at fat commercialism 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 237 
 
 and insolent nobility as if that alone were a noble 
 game. And so for a year and more she had worked in 
 trifling ways until she had been suddenly chosen for 
 something great. 
 
 That had brought her from Warsaw this summer. 
 Perhaps it was because she enjoyed such wonderful 
 luck in all she touched that had led to her being 
 chosen for this last piece of fatal work. She had been 
 quick enough in Warsaw to light upon a mass of politi- 
 cal correspondence which was successfully spirited 
 away. Conspirators of all kinds and of all times are 
 proverbially superstitious ; they believe in luck and 
 in omens and in all sorts of other things which other 
 men have discarded. Her friends said she had been 
 extraordinarily lucky in seizing an opportunity. It 
 was supposed that with the help which was given her 
 in countless directions she would hit upon some means 
 of carrying out a still bolder coup — the method left 
 entirely to her discretion. 
 
 But here in Moscow everything had failed. She had 
 been so closely watched that the smallest false move 
 would have been enough to compromise her for ever. 
 She had been driven step by step to an impossible 
 position which had ended in this last terrible and 
 humiliating morning. 
 
 And now she must sacrifice herself. March straight 
 into the lion's den. After she had been warned to 
 keep away. . . . 
 
 Her eyes, swollen from their weeping, suddenly be- 
 came steely-blue, like the blade of a sword, as the 
 resolution in her heart leaped up. She would show 
 them the metal of a Polish girl, no matter what it 
 cost. 
 
 Now with determination reflected in every move- 
 
238 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 ment, she ran into the adjoining room, quickly bathed 
 her eyes, put on hat and veil, locked all the doors, 
 and came into the hall. 
 
 Two minutes later she was in the street — walking 
 quickly, with her eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 She was going into retreat, to lull suspicions, and 
 then, at the least expected moment, she would strike. 
 
XXII 
 
 ALL the world knows the insatiable inquisitive- 
 ness of the gallic mind — the manner in which 
 Leverything is of interest simply because what 
 is nobody's business is held to be everybody's, 
 
 Now Verdard was something more than merely 
 inquisitive. He itched for news and for startling 
 developments just as a dog full of fleas itches ; his desire 
 to satisfy his curiosity amounted to a veritable 
 passion. 
 
 So that morning, as soon as he had received the curious 
 summons brought him by the little girl, he jumped 
 into a droshky and shouted his orders. It was easy 
 to see from his manner that he was a man of import- 
 ance ; and it pleased him greatly to see with what 
 alacrity the driver fell in with this conception. The 
 man whipped up his horses as if much depended on 
 their speed. 
 
 In all truth Verdard was in a hurry. Yet though 
 he was so anxious to find out what had occurred to 
 demand his presence so urgently, he remained un- 
 happy in his heart of hearts. He could no longer dis- 
 guise to himself that the grand role he wished to 
 play had not been assigned to him, and that the hope 
 he had so long cherished that his name would become 
 as familiar to newspaper readers as that of actresses 
 and tenors was not likely to be realized. Indeed, he 
 felt that he was in serious danger of remaining a 
 
 239 
 
240 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 nobody until the end of his days, that was almost 
 worse than anything else he could conceive. 
 
 He ground his teeth savagely as he thought of it. 
 He saw himself a restaurateur once more in an obscure 
 provincial town ; bowing and smiling to everyone 
 so that his clientele might spread his reputation for 
 excessive amiability ; forced to interest himself in 
 cooking as an escape from his troubling thoughts ; 
 doing everyday things with an everyday manner ; in 
 a word, tumbled from his high estate. He had been 
 tired to death of it all long before he had given it up ; 
 he had thirsted for wider fields. And now! . . . To fall 
 from the clouds back to solid earth is to dreamers worse 
 than a descent to Avernus. 
 
 He had been a pretty conspirator indeed — he thought 
 to himself in growing scorn ! He had been utilized in 
 the most commonplace ways, without any more 
 romance attaching to it all than that enjoyed by petty 
 smugglers who by means of false declarations and 
 clever packing have long used Belgium as their happy 
 hunting-ground. It had been a saloperie from start 
 to finish, with the menace always staring him in the 
 face, if anything went wrong, of having to pass end- 
 less months in a vile prison. He began even to despise 
 the money he had made through it all. 
 
 As he sat there, rolling from side to side with the 
 sharp movements of the carriage, a man of intelligence 
 would have been hard put in deciding what was 
 actually the matter with him. At one moment he 
 looked merely choleric ; the very next he was inclined 
 to be tearful ; a minute later a wave of hope had 
 passed over him, and craning his head forward, he 
 seemed to be attempting to pierce the secrets of the 
 future. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 241 
 
 It was with an exclamation of relief that he finally 
 arrived at his destination. Rapidly stepping to the 
 ground, he paid for his conveyance in his usual open- 
 handed manner. Then, grasping firmly in his hand 
 the black commercial-traveller's bag which he always 
 carried by day as a sort of certificate of his bona fides, 
 he rapidly walked up to the discreet little house 
 sheltered behind the line of poplars, and rang the door- 
 bell. 
 
 A surprise awaited him on the very threshold The 
 doctor had been sitting in a deep arm-chair, sipping 
 tea, and reading the newspaper Moskovskaya Vedo- 
 mosty, waiting because he had an appointment here. 
 As the bell clanged loudly, he muttered something 
 irritably about people who always come too early. 
 Still, he got up and quietly opened the door. 
 
 Both men were astounded by the meeting, but the 
 Frenchman showed it more than the doctor. 
 
 "Oh! oh!" he exclaimed, looking at the Russian 
 doubtfully, " so you are still here, my good friend. I 
 can therefore only suppose that the poor Baron pro- 
 gresses but slowly." 
 
 The doctor did not smile ; he was sorely perplexed, 
 but he managed to conceal it. He had been expecting 
 another man — in fact, a messenger who was to tell 
 him a piece of very important news. In the name of 
 Heaven, what did this mean ? 
 
 "lam attending to my patient and securing that 
 nothing retards his rapid recovery," he assented coolly 
 enough, rubbing his chin with the palm of his hand, as 
 if it were itching. "He is improving marvellously — 
 in a few days he will be able to walk. Yes, I am 
 sure of that." He paused and looked at his unex- 
 pected visitor with curious eyes. " By the by, what 
 16 
 
242 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 is the matter with you, my dear Monsieur Verdard ? 
 To my professional eyes you look a trifle indisposed." 
 
 " I have been sent for by Monsieur le Baron," said 
 Verdard sourly and uncivilly, " and my physical 
 condition is not sufficiently serious to engage the 
 attention of a doctor. Will you give me permission 
 to go up to your patient ? " 
 
 The doctor did not answer at once. He wished to 
 gain time and understand what might lie behind the 
 Frenchman's coming so far out of the city when the 
 Baron was now many miles away — in fact, across the 
 frontier. The big portfolio which Verdard was carry- 
 ing gave him an excuse. 
 
 " What have you in that bag ? " he inquired, as his 
 companion set it down. " It looks formidable." 
 
 " It contains presents for people who wish to trade 
 with me." 
 
 " Titneo Danaos et dona ferentes," quoted the doctor, 
 with a facetious smile. " Do you know Latin ? ' 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, that means that the Greeks were not above 
 suspicion even when they brought gifts." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Verdard, not knowing whether to be 
 angry or to laugh. 
 
 The doctor suddenly relieved him of the necessity 
 of deciding. 
 
 " My friend," he said very seriously, "it is high 
 time we understood each other more completely. I 
 do not know what you are doing here to-day, but 
 I must find out. Come into this room, where we can 
 talk without fear of interruption." 
 
 Verdard followed him into the room reluctantly. 
 He suddenly felt that something disconcerting was 
 about to happen. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 243 
 
 The doctor carefully closed the door, but did not 
 sit down. For a moment he stood facing his man in 
 silence. When he spoke he did so suddenly and 
 gruffly. 
 
 " What do you want with the Baron ? Tell me — 
 without subterfuge this time." 
 
 Verdard shrugged his shoulders, as if annoyed at 
 such persistent stupidity. 
 
 " Your question is incorrectly framed : you should 
 have inquired what the Baron wants of me." 
 
 " What he wants of you ? " repeated the doctor, now 
 looking openly puzzled. " He certainly wants nothing 
 of you. To be precise, he is in Austria by now." He 
 consulted his watch. " Yes, he must have crossed the 
 frontier hours ago ; in fact, he may have reached 
 Switzerland." 
 
 The Frenchman suddenly struck his hands to- 
 gether ferociously. 
 
 " Trapped — I suspected it. Trapped, trapped, 
 trapped." He stood there repeating the word madly 
 and glaring like an enraged bull. 
 
 u Explain yourself," exclaimed the doctor. 
 
 There was a new interest in his manner ; his eyes 
 had become much brighter behind their glasses. 
 
 In short, excited sentences Verdard related what 
 had happened. He spoke with the air of a man who 
 is both cornered and afraid. The doctor also listened 
 as one whose safety is at stake, but who would cer- 
 tainly never show any such perturbation. He had 
 not understood this man's sudden appearance ; but 
 now that the reason was clear, he, too, was filled with 
 strange unrest. 
 
 " This is a mysterious thing — a very mysterious 
 thing. Who could have sent that child, who ? ' 
 
244 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 He stood there twisting a button of his waistcoat 
 and rapidly thinking. He stood there, in his strange 
 ways — with his great head sunk between his shoulders 
 and his loosely knitted body slightly swaying to and 
 fro as if he were balancing himself just as he was 
 balancing all possible pros and cons. 
 
 Suddenly his eyes brightened again. As if to hide 
 that he took off his glasses and busily wiped them with 
 a big handkerchief. He was convinced that Sasha 
 was behind this ; he remembered her grudge against 
 the man. 
 
 " I cannot think of anything which gives me a 
 clue," he murmured. " I can think of nothing save 
 that this house seems to have become singularly un- 
 healthy." He thought a bit longer and then concluded 
 in a firm voice : " Monsieur Verdard, I venture to 
 give you a piece of urgent advice — leave Moscow as 
 soon as you can pack up and find a train to carry you 
 away. As a medical man I have no hesitation in 
 declaring that the local climate is totally unsuited 
 for you. Now — we had better part quickly — good- 
 bye." 
 
 Verdard walked out of the house without a single 
 word. Ominously silent, he took his departure, still 
 convinced that somebody had made a fool of him 
 merely to get him out of the way, which was quite 
 correct. He did not dream of anything else — his 
 injured vanity completely absorbed him, which was 
 quite a mistake. 
 
 As he walked, with his head hanging down and his 
 eyes on the ground, he did not observe that he was 
 being closely shadowed by two powerful-looking men, 
 dressed in the top-boots and loose black shirts of the 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 245 
 
 lower classes, who had seen him drive up and had been 
 waiting for him to come out. 
 
 The two men slowly followed, turning round re- 
 peatedly to see that they in turn were not being 
 watched. It was a peaceful morning — very cool and 
 fresh after the rain, which had just stopped. The woods 
 looked charming in the distance, and the grass in 
 some meadows near by was green and luscious. It 
 would have made an ideal spot for one of those fetes- 
 champetrcs which Greuze has so successfully immor- 
 talized on his speaking canvases. And instead of that 
 there was to be one of those sinister little scenes so 
 common in Russia. 
 
 There was something brutally fascinating in the 
 way the three men now moved idly along the deserted 
 country road — the fat man who was being tracked, 
 and the strong men who were about to pounce upon 
 him. Before he had appeared they had mechanically 
 tightened their leather belts as if it might be necessary 
 to use force, to hurt him a little. Yet there was no 
 reason for haste or flurry — the scene had something 
 about it of the inevitableness of fate. 
 
 A couple of hundred yards away from the solitary 
 house, the road curved a bit, and was heavily masked 
 by some tall trees. Here it was that the two men 
 decided to act. 
 
 " Stoi," they called roughly, coming up and laying 
 heavy hands on the Frenchman's shoulder. " Stoi." 
 
 The colour slowly left Verdard's face as he realized 
 what had happened. 
 
 He babbled a stream of vain inquiries and protests ; 
 he demanded all sorts of things. The two powerful 
 fellows did not even trouble to answer, though they 
 smiled a little ironically as, in a fit of despair, he 
 
246 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 opened his traveller's bag and showed them his com- 
 mercial samples. That had been done before — possibly 
 one hundred thousand times or a million. There was 
 only one fact of importance just now for him to under- 
 stand, that he was under arrest. 
 
 The doctor had gone upstairs after his visitor had 
 taken his departure ; and more from habit than 
 from any other motive he had idly watched him from 
 a window. He was thinking of Sasha and wondering 
 what motive she had in sending this man on a wild- 
 goose chase ; was it mere idle amusement, or something 
 more serious ? It was hardly the time to play the fool. 
 
 Then suddenly he stopped his thinking and his 
 whole manner changed. With a few rapid strides he 
 went across the room and came back with a pair of 
 field-glasses. Adjusting them carefully, he followed 
 the scene on the road with breathless interest. The 
 glasses were so excellent that he saw every detail down 
 to the very end — even the last despairing opening of the 
 black bag— that black bag which had made him speak 
 of the Greeks. . . . 
 
 When there was nothing more to see, he swiftly left 
 the window and sought the stairs. 
 
 " They have begun throwing out the nets," he 
 muttered, with a wild look in his eyes. " We have no 
 time to lose — not a moment. It cannot have been 
 Sasha who sent him." 
 
 Quickly he wrote something on a piece of paper and 
 left it in a conspicuous place. 
 
 A minute later he had seized his hat, opened a 
 little back-door, and vanished down a small country 
 path, which ran almost entirely concealed by the 
 clumps of sentinel trees, far away into the woods. 
 
XXIII 
 
 THE very next morning bright sunshine had re- 
 turned ; floods of sunshine, splendid sunshine. 
 Once more the skies were of an Italian blue, 
 with only a few vague powder-puffs of clouds floating 
 in the far distance. The pigeons and the old woman 
 who tended them came back to the great square, and 
 the idlers bought and scattered bountiful handfuls of 
 Indian corn as if to make up for the neglect of the 
 previous day. The rainbow flights of the birds, and 
 their constant cooing, gave to the barren space a touch 
 of romance which fitted in with the vista of golden 
 cupolas and Byzantine architecture and distant 
 wooded hills. With the coming of fair weather every- 
 body seemed on the move; hundreds of carriages 
 passed and repassed in every direction ; the old zest 
 for living had returned. 
 
 Faulconbridge, gazing out of his window, and 
 drinking in the gaiety of it all, wondered how much 
 of the previous day had been really true. It could not 
 be true, he exclaimed to himself again and again, in 
 that vain effort to find consolation by that dogged denial 
 which we always affect on the morrow of our disasters. 
 That he had finished with her, that he would never 
 see Sasha again, seemed both incredible and cruel. In 
 the bright morning sunlight the folly of her mad pro- 
 posal was doubly clear to him ; that she could have 
 believed for one instant in the success of it all he 
 
 247 
 
248 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 deemed impossible. Did she think that he could 
 become a common thief, even at the price she had 
 named ? . . . That had been a mad climax to a mad 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Yet though the whole memory hurt him so, though 
 he was direly distressed, by one of those fantastic 
 mental contradictions, at the same time he was fas- 
 cinated by it. Indeed, from hour to hour the fascina- 
 tion seemed to grow. It was so far removed from his 
 normal experience to find a woman boldly offering 
 to barter herself for political papers that he did not 
 know how to measure it. It was so unreal as to be 
 strangely alluring — he could play with the memory 
 as if it were merely phantasy ; and then he could still 
 feel the clinging softness of her body as she pressed 
 against him and pleaded with him ; he could still see 
 her eyes and the passion which lighted them ; he 
 could still hear the music of her voice, and feel the 
 immeasurable disdain with which she had dismissed 
 him. 
 
 He did not trouble about the rest ; what was the 
 use. of thinking of that ? He knew that soldiers would 
 blast down with artillery barricades and houses when 
 the fateful moment had arrived — firing until there was 
 nothing left. He knew that the people could not 
 hope to win. Popular movements had always been 
 great gambles ; here no element of luck could possibly 
 make up for the immense elements of weakness which 
 were glaringly evident even to him. 
 
 Moodily he turned away from his window and the 
 gay sunlight ; in the darker room this inevitable 
 end seemed now to rise up before him like a gloomy 
 spectre. 
 
 He wished the whole thing had not seemed so sense- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 249 
 
 less, so criminal. Then he might have tried to assert 
 himself. Viewing the matter from his detached 
 standpoint, soon one thing and only one thing became 
 evident to him — that he must try to prevent the girl 
 from making her mad attempt. But what could he 
 do ? What possible plan was there ? He dropped into 
 a chair and, fixing his eyes on the pattern of the wall- 
 paper, vainly tried to think out something good and 
 sound. 
 
 How long he had sat like that he did not know. 
 But at last he was vaguely conscious in the midst of 
 his concentration, that following a brief knock, a black- 
 coated waiter had entered the room with a salver in his 
 hand. The man's white face seemed to float nearer 
 as he advanced noiselessly over the thick carpet — per- 
 forming his duty with the detachment and ease of a 
 perfect automaton. It was curious how very noise- 
 lessly he performed his office. 
 
 Mechanically Faulconbridge — trying hard to re- 
 main in his brown study — put out his hand for the 
 letter which he supposed was there, and found — a 
 card. Once again he vaguely noted, as he fumbled to 
 pick up the piece of pasteboard from the smooth metal 
 surface, that the waiter's eyes were now fixed on him 
 in a new way — as if something had changed him from 
 a person merely known by his room-number into 
 somebody invested with particular significance. Faul- 
 conbridge was irritated by the man's stare — he was 
 so irritated that he only controlled himself with an 
 effort. 
 
 It took him a few seconds to realize that the problem 
 engaging him had suddenly been complicated in an 
 astounding and dangerous manner ; that, in fact, so 
 far from being in a position to contrive means for the 
 
250 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 safety of others, the time had come when he must busy 
 himself about his own neck. To be precise, though the 
 card he held in his hand was in Russian, underneath 
 the strange script was written clearly enough in English : 
 " Over-Police-Inspector — Central Administration." 
 
 There could be no possible mistake regarding what 
 that meant. 
 
 " The gentleman is coming up," announced the 
 waiter suddenly, in his German-English, having stared 
 his fill. Then the man turned on his heels — abruptly 
 and somewhat pitilessly. 
 
 Faulconbridge stood up with unexpected rapidity. 
 
 For before the waiter reached the door, the police 
 officer had opened it ; and now, with a look of in- 
 difference on his face, he was already calmly surveying 
 the man to whom he had done the unusual kindness of 
 sending in a card. 
 
 For an instant — whilst the waiter disappeared — 
 the two men stood opposite one another, not speaking 
 a word. Each was measuring the other. 
 
 The gentleman of the Central Administration, 
 dressed almost precisely as an army officer, had dealt 
 with many men in his time. Now a half-smile of 
 appreciation stole across his bearded face as he under- 
 stood his victim's indifferent attitude. He secretly 
 liked men who dealt with him firmly, because that 
 was his own method ; and so now he gave a cere- 
 monious bow before he advanced any nearer. Then, 
 with a swift and somewhat unexpected movement, 
 he drew a well-worn leather letter-case from the breast 
 of his tunic. Opening it abruptly, he began reading 
 from a paper in tolerable English, marked, however, 
 by the soft purring Slavonic accent and a curious 
 twisting of the gutturals of commonplace words : 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 251 
 
 " Meester Richard Faulconbridge, Englishman, 
 thirty years old — born in London of British parents, 
 no profession or business, Protestant religion, travelling 
 in Poland, Russia, Siberia, and Turkey. Stayed in 
 Warsaw for one week, changing hotels three times — 
 the Warsaw report late, not yet received — came to 
 Moscow nine days ago." He stopped abruptly, 
 scratched his chin, and then looked up in a puzzled 
 way. " Meester Faulconbridge, please tell me, sir, 
 why you changed hotels three times in Warsaw in one 
 week. How much trouble — three times in one 
 week ! " 
 
 An expression of grim amusement flitted across 
 Faulconbridge's face. 
 
 " They were too many visitors in the Warsaw 
 hotels." 
 
 The police officer looked puzzled. 
 
 " Too many visitors ? " he repeated blankly. 
 
 " Yes — in the bedrooms — particularly in the beds." 
 
 The police officer suddenly understood, and appeared 
 much amused. 
 
 " Ha, ha," he laughed. " That is very good, very 
 good, and I think true. In Russia we call them Ger- 
 mans, and in Germany they call them Russians, and 
 they pass the frontier without passports to annoy 
 the Englishman, and made him change hotels ! ' 
 
 He laughed a little longer ; then his seriousness re- 
 turned, and he read on : 
 
 " On arrival in Moscow, reported by our hotel agents 
 
 to show suspicious movements — seen in company " 
 
 Once more he stopped abruptly his viva voce transla- 
 tion and conned his notes with his eyebrows raised. 
 
 He evidently made up his mind that the rest had 
 better be suppressed, for in the same rapid way, he 
 
252 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 unexpectedly restored the notebook to his breast- 
 pocket and stood at ease. 
 
 "lam sorry for you, Meester Faulconbridge, because 
 you are a nice man," he resumed in his soft, drawling 
 English, " but our operations have commenced ; 
 yesterday nearly one thousand arrests. What you call 
 sweeping operations, yes ? I read it in the English 
 papers many times during your war about the gold 
 mines in South Africa when I was in the Censor's 
 office, reading newspapers, and blacking so many 
 English papers every day ! Our sweeping operations 
 have been very big. It is what we do in Russia very 
 often — we sweep up all the curious things so as to 
 prevent explosions. So to-day we look everywhere, and 
 Meester Faulconbridge of London, no business or pro- 
 fession, comes into the basket too." 
 
 He gazed at his tall victim without a trace of malice, 
 and now, having finished the official part of his busi- 
 ness, he drew forth the inevitable cigarette-case and 
 offered its contents. There was always time for 
 that. 
 
 Faulconbridge coolly thanked him. 
 
 " You will greatly oblige me by telling me at once," 
 he said, " whether I can be technically described as 
 under arrest or not ? " 
 
 The police officer inhaled deeply and thoughtfully, 
 and then slowly expelled the smoke of his little cigarette 
 through his nostrils. He was not in the slightest im- 
 pressed by the question. 
 
 " Technically you cannot be described — you are 
 ordered to accompany me to the Central Adminstration 
 for inquiry. That is the position. Perhaps you will 
 know very soon about the future. Please lock up your 
 boxes and I will seal them." 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 253 
 
 " I am ready to go, now. I do not propose to lock 
 anything," said Faulconbridge rather angrily. 
 
 The police officer was not offended. 
 
 "Englishmen are always calm," he said, mysteri- 
 ously smiling, " especially when they are of no 
 profession or business. Well, I will seal, without 
 locking." 
 
 Now from another pocket he drew papers and seals, 
 and rapidly sealed everything in the room. Then, 
 indicating that he was ready, he preceded Faulcon- 
 bridge to the door, saw him out, turned the key, 
 placed it in his pocket, and sealed the door. 
 
 Without speaking they sought the lift. A group of 
 hotel-servants had breathlessly watched their exit. It 
 was easy to see from the expression on their faces that 
 what had occurred was a familiar occurrence — just now. 
 In this abrupt and unexpected fashion Faulconbridge 
 left the hotel. 
 
 The Central Administration was one of those vast, 
 gloomy buildings which seem specially designed to 
 inform unhappy humanity that the quality of mercy 
 is not to be sought within such portals. Built of solid 
 masonry— with all the windows iron-barred and 
 closely shut— with no sign of life anywhere in the 
 sombre streets around— a not unsuitable motto over 
 the entrance would have been those celebrated words 
 inscribed over Purgatory. 
 
 Faulconbridge— satisfied though he was that he had 
 no reason for real alarm— felt a strange, unaccustomed 
 thrill as he entered the gateway in company with the 
 police officer. For the first time in his life he realized 
 what must be the feelings of unhappy wretches who 
 
254 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 are really guilty, and who must pass to their doom 
 unnoticed and unknown. 
 
 His heart had, indeed, become colder. There was 
 a terrible silence in the place, an unearthly quiet, 
 suggestive of the tomb. The police stationed in the 
 inner courtyards stood motionless and expressionless, 
 as if close and constant association with this unfeeling 
 monster of brickwork had turned them to stone. Not 
 a single one of them showed the slightest interest ; 
 save for a mechanical salute nobody moved a muscle. 
 
 The police officer had caught the official air of 
 the place. In the drive hither he had made some 
 attempt at conversation ; now he had become as sullen 
 as the gloomy building. Entering one wing which 
 lay across a secluded cobblestoned courtyard, he 
 silently led the way down endless corridors, lined with 
 doors that were covered with signs. Occasionally 
 they passed someone hurrying along with bundles of 
 papers ; but the briefest nod was the only sign of 
 recognition exchanged. 
 
 At last a flight of stone steps led to a more imposing 
 office-entrance. Outside the folding-doors stood a 
 door-keeper in a black tunic and carefully polished top- 
 boots ; and no sooner did he see them than he flung 
 open the doors and stood respectfully aside. 
 
 With a slight bow the police officer led the way in, 
 removing his cap as he did so. 
 
 " You have arrived at your destination. In a few 
 minutes the chief of my section will see you personally, 
 and your preliminary examination will commence. 
 You will wait here." Then something caught his 
 eye ; he drew himself up and stiffly stood to atten- 
 tion. 
 
 Faulconbridge, surprised for a moment, could not 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 255 
 
 account for the change ; then he saw what had 
 happened. 
 
 The room in which they were standing was nothing 
 but a plainly furnished ante-room, with only a few 
 well-worn chairs set against the walls, but through 
 an open door there was to be seen a luxury of appoint- 
 ment which was at odd variance with the barren 
 exterior of these police barracks. Handsome carpets, 
 several marble busts, pictures, and rich curtains, met 
 the eyes, but these were only noted to be forgotten. 
 For standing in one corner of the room, near the 
 windows, were three men in military uniform, en- 
 gaged in close conversation. They had turned in- 
 stinctively as they heard the sound of footsteps, and 
 now their faces lay in his direction, Faulconbridge 
 suddenly recognized the tall, spare, handsome man, 
 whose cold blue eyes sought the meaning of this inter- 
 ruption. 
 
 It was no other person than the Grand-Duke. 
 
 In spite of himself, for the first time Faulconbridge 
 showed that he was startled : a flood of colour surged 
 across his face. He had been utterly unprepared for 
 such a development ; could it be possible that every 
 detail concerning what happened everywhere was 
 known to the secret agents of this country, as fantastic 
 story-books so often alleged ? It was incredible. 
 Yet now a vision of what this might mean, not only 
 for himself, but for others, overwhelmed him. 
 
 He made a great effort, and at length mastered him- 
 self. By his side the police superintendent remained 
 like a man turned to stone. The heels of his black top- 
 boots were glued together, and his arms were rigid 
 beside him. And so the two stood and waited. 
 
 The three personages finished their conversation at 
 
256 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 their leisure, speaking in the deep resonant under- 
 tones of a land of strong lungs. At last the younger 
 of the three fell back a step or two, saluted stiffly, and 
 rapidly came out of the room. As he passed Faul- 
 conbridge he shot a look of curiosity at him — as if 
 momentarily interested in his fate. In the other room 
 the remaining official had begun talking again in a 
 low, deferential voice. His manner was that of a man 
 infinitely subservient. 
 
 The Grand-Duke suddenly interrupted the flow of 
 words with a characteristic Slavonic movement : it 
 was as if he would beat the air downward with his 
 open hand. He did it several times as if to insist on his 
 point. 
 
 " Nichevo," he then remarked quite loud. Making 
 an abrupt sign towards the ante-room, he asked some 
 questions, which were rapidly answered. There was 
 a call. 
 
 The police inspector saluted and turned. 
 
 " Please go in," he said in a low voice. 
 
 Faulconbridge went forward slowly and seriously, 
 bowing to the Prince as he came to a halt. For a 
 moment the Grand-Duke studied him carefully ; then 
 he dropped his eyes to some papers which had been 
 tendered him, and rapidly read. At last he shrugged 
 his shoulders, threw the papers on to the desk, and 
 turned. 
 
 " Mr. Faulconbridge, I believe," he said in perfect 
 English. 
 
 " Yes — your Highness — that is my name." 
 
 The shadow of a smile passed over the Prince's face 
 at the form of address which had been used. He 
 hesitated for a moment, evidently dwelling on the 
 incongruousness of the situation. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 257 
 
 " How did you know who I was ? " he inquired at 
 length, with an air of curiosity. 
 
 " I have seen you before, sir, both here and in 
 England." 
 
 " You have a good memory for faces." 
 
 Faulconbridge bowed slightly. 
 
 " I do not easily forget, sir." 
 
 They were standing close to each other now — two 
 tall men looking into each other's eyes. The English- 
 man was perhaps a shade shorter, but he was of a 
 heavier build, and this emphasized the slight difference 
 between the two. 
 
 The Grand-Duke looked him up and down apprecia- 
 tively several times before he spoke again. 
 
 " It would be a pity for a fine fellow like yourself 
 to get into trouble over a lot of wretched fanatics," 
 he remarked at length, sternly watching him with his 
 cold blue eyes. " I gather from these papers that you 
 have been acting like a fool. I have taken it on myself 
 to speak to you, because I like England and English- 
 men. It is extremely lucky for you, I have no hesita- 
 tion in saying, that I happen to be here — in this room 
 — at the present moment." He paused for a minute 
 to allow the meaning of his words to sink in. " Mr. 
 Faulconbridge, leave Moscow within three days, and 
 the police will bother you no more. Mr. Faulcon- 
 bridge, speak to nobody but to people about whom 
 you know everything during these three days. You 
 came here for pleasure ? Well, then, do not court dis- 
 grace. Next time you cannot count on being so 
 fortunate. You will get — the usual treatment. You 
 understand ? " He never took his eyes for an instant 
 from the strong yet boyish face that was so close 
 to his. 
 17 
 
258 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " I shall leave within the time you have stated, 
 sir," said Faulconbridge briefly. 
 
 The Grand-Duke was evidently turning something 
 else over in his mind. The police officials stood 
 watching him without a sign of life. The Grand-Duke 
 looked away to the window and then back several 
 times in an undecided way ; he toyed with a button 
 of his uniform as if he could not make up his mind. 
 
 Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Very good. That is all. I will not ask you a 
 single question. You may go. You may remember 
 some day that we Russians can be generous too. The 
 police will release effects. Good day." 
 
 Then he turned on his heel curtly. Faulconbridge, 
 free to do as he pleased, walked in solemn silence back 
 to the hotel. 
 
XXIV 
 
 HE put his things in order the next day. It 
 was over — it was finished. The story had 
 come to an abrupt end just when he had 
 tasted the romance — just when he was nursing the 
 climax. He would have to leave within the stated time 
 whether he liked it or not — he would not see the up- 
 shot of what had suddenly become an enthralling 
 drama. Men are always foolish where women are 
 concerned. He should have been thankful for his 
 providential escape — instead of that he was only 
 gloomy. 
 
 He wandered about like a lost dog, always retracing 
 his steps and coming back to spots which were now 
 strangely familiar to him. Of course, had he been 
 sensible, he would have left without an hour's delay — 
 gone anywhere so long as the change was complete. 
 But that was out of the question ; he would have 
 sooner faced anything than the immediate loneliness 
 of this undesired departure. 
 
 So he mooned about the enthralling Kremlin, 
 passing and repassing the great Spaski Gate, which 
 pierces the medieval wall ; he wandered round the 
 imposing white bell -tower of Ivan the Terrible, with 
 its giant bell tumbled from aloft and reposing on terra 
 firma ; he stopped many times before the great bronze 
 monster called the " Czar Pouschka "—the king of 
 cannons — and wondered whether that medieval thun- 
 
 259 
 
260 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 derer was symbolic of the future — of the invinci- 
 bility of this iron rule. . . . Then, filled with 
 sad reverie, he returned once more to that great 
 array of piled guns which the Napoleonic defeat had 
 given the country, and morosely studied the coats of 
 arms and the crowns on those old-time muzzle-loaders. 
 All the kingdoms and principalities of Europe — all the 
 nations which had been enslaved by that marvellous 
 conqueror had sent their men to die in the snows of 
 this pitiless northern country which always conquered. 
 He said that to himself again and again. Here was 
 testimony which would last to the end of time, these 
 Dutch guns, Swedish guns, Spanish guns, Polish guns, 
 Prussian guns, Austrian guns, Saxon guns, Bavarian 
 guns — not to speak of the multitude of weapons 
 abandoned by the soldiery of a score of minor Italian 
 and German states — states which the passage of time 
 has blotted out. Since his brief interview with the 
 Grand-Duke this silent testimony spoke to him more 
 eloquently than before. 
 
 He did not want to leave it all, he doggedly argued 
 to himself ; he wished to stay. He became such a 
 persistent visitor to these scenes that the sellers of 
 post cards near the gaudy Byzantine Cathedral of St. 
 Basil imagined that he must be an architect desirous 
 of copying its Turkish towers and minarets, or perhaps 
 a souvenir-hunter who wished a souvenir torn from its 
 very walls — as American tourists sometimes demanded. 
 It was hard to decide what he was. 
 
 He was as lonely as a lost dog — and every bit as 
 homeless. He conceived a particular detestation for 
 the brand-new flashy hotel, and wondered if a change 
 of abode would make suspicion centre upon him again. 
 " What is she doing now ? " he thought, picturing to 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 261 
 
 himself the woman alone, in the corner of a narrow 
 room, hiding from arrest. " It is best for me to forget 
 her," he decided. 
 
 But he could not forget her ; she stood before him, 
 provoking now intense pity, now irritation and even 
 anger. And her image was as clear and the thoughts 
 of her were as painful as if he were carrying her about 
 with him in his breast. 
 
 She would be caught in the act, of course, and he 
 would never even hear of her again. She had said 
 that she would seek refuge in Switzerland if she suc- 
 ceeded. If she succeeded indeed ! Perhaps they would 
 even let her succeed up to a certain point, and then 
 shoot her down. That was what would happen. 
 Somebody had once told him that that was a common 
 method ; not only did it save time and trouble, but it 
 struck terror into the less courageous of those com- 
 posing these desperate organizations. 
 
 As he thought of such things his blood boiled, and 
 he hated what he had done in a dull, unreasoning way. 
 If he had only had the common sense to prevaricate 
 with her he might have saved her from herself. He 
 should have understood that at once, and promised 
 anything. Why had he not done that ? 
 
 Yet, somehow, in the face of her offer, that had been 
 impossible. . . . She had indeed made it so that no 
 subterfuge, no possible line of retreat was open to him 
 once he had succumbed to her embraces. It had been 
 marvellously clever on her part, though marvellously 
 crude. . . . 
 
 He coloured again and again with suppressed 
 emotion as he remembered how sweet had been the close 
 physical contact with one who had been so much in his 
 thoughts— how soft and yielding and girlish she had 
 
262 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 seemed. Perhaps if she had not arranged it so cleverly 
 — if she had allowed chance to work in her favour — if 
 she had not so evidently wished to tie him in advance, 
 he might have succumbed to the temptation. . . . 
 
 Even now he trembled to think of what that would 
 have meant. . . . 
 
 Then he thought of that blinding flash of anger which 
 had overwhelmed her when he had at last spoken 
 clearly. Though her face had become distorted with 
 anger, it had been beautiful in a new way with an odd, 
 uneven kind of beauty. It had seemed broader than 
 ever at the forehead, so broad that it shaped too 
 abruptly into her pointed chin. Her eyes, always so 
 tranquil and clear, had magically changed ; and in 
 them the lowering hatred of her expression had been 
 concentrated, suddenly, frantically. Yes — for a few 
 minutes she had hated him with a tremendous hate. 
 His mouth had become dry ; he had been overwhelmed. 
 He could not tolerate the idea that she hated him. 
 And yet he liked that memory better than the first — 
 it was more wholesome, more convincing, more natural. 
 
 The second day was much worse than the first — he 
 must have walked fifteen hours instead of ten. He 
 could not sit still — that had become for him an utter 
 impossibility. He was rilled with all sorts of feelings 
 — feelings that tortured him — feelings that made him 
 question the sanity of his every action. Particularly 
 that day did he have the feeling that he had been an 
 arrant fool — but with that was mixed the feeling of 
 impending doom. 
 
 He did not know why, but the air seemed heavy 
 with suspense as it does before some great tropical 
 storm. Those who have been through similar times 
 know well how coming events do truly cast their 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 263 
 
 shadows before. It is as if the electricity of human 
 passions becomes so intense as to charge the whole 
 atmosphere and make men tremble without knowing 
 why. Once again there was bad news from every- 
 where — from the bourses, from the produce exchanges, 
 from the provinces, where famine was expected ; and 
 most of all, bad news from this distant campaign in 
 Asia, which seemed to symbolize more than all the rest 
 the spirit of evil and disaster which had been for so 
 long threatening the country. He gathered from the 
 confused accounts which appeared in German news- 
 papers that another disaster — or a series of disasters — 
 had occurred on the battlefield ; but everything was 
 blurred and contradictory, and the censorship was now 
 so strict that it was impossible to say what was true 
 and what was merely the official lie. 
 
 He could no longer obtain any English newspapers — 
 the postal service had apparently broken down, or 
 else the censors had openly placed their ban on per- 
 nicious publications which made so much of Russia's 
 dilemma. He thought several times that day of going 
 and representing his case to the proper authorities — 
 finding out whether he could really be expelled from 
 the country by simple mandate, by autocratic behest. 
 Then he remembered, with a bitter smile at his in- 
 genuousness, that this was the land which he had 
 found so charming at first contact just because it was 
 autocratic — just because the individual counted for 
 nothing and the even tenor of national life summed 
 up all. They could do what they liked with him — that 
 was plain — even to the extent of transporting him to 
 Siberia for a term of years without any trial at all. It 
 was on record that it had taken countless months of 
 persistent diplomacy to secure the release of a man who 
 
264 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 had been seized with as little real reason for suspicion 
 as he afforded. Poor, unhappy people of the land. 
 
 Now he wandered in the great unpaved streets 
 where endless lines of wooden booths displayed, as in a 
 fair, cheap household necessities. These thorough- 
 fares were always crowded with the real Russian 
 people, tall men, often wearing fur caps in spite of the 
 warm weather, deep-bosomed women with wide-open 
 blue eyes and expansive gestures, and hosts of tousle- 
 headed children. The pavements were littered with 
 rubbish ; an abundance of horseflesh harnessed to all 
 kinds of carts was thrusting about through these 
 restless masses of odorous humanity — life swarmed 
 here almost as it does in Eastern countries, where 
 babies are tumbled out into the world in great layers 
 as if to fertilize the soil as dung fertilizes it. . . . 
 
 The third day came finally — the day he would have 
 to go. He looked out on the fresh morning from his 
 window on the square with an odd heart -sinking. 
 
 Never had the historic city seemed so charming — 
 the day was perfect with not a cloud in the sky. The 
 gilded domes of the Greek Orthodox churches, glitter- 
 ing in the sunlight, sent up flashes of fire like the flashes 
 of a burnished sword waved by a swordsman exultant 
 of his strength. The swiftly moving carriages crossing 
 and recrossing the great open space seemed charged 
 with special significance in his eyes. How many bore 
 messengers half frantic with hopes and fears ? There 
 was something arrestingly dramatic in this strange 
 conspiracy of silence which veiled a great powder- 
 magazine with a diaphanous veil of simulated in- 
 difference. Everybody knew that beneath it all some- 
 thing tremendous was fast developing — everybody, or 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 265 
 
 nearly everybody, must know it, since it was not only 
 in the air, but quite openly talked about. Public 
 arrests were a common sight — like the sudden arrest 
 he himself had witnessed in this very hotel-restaurant : 
 people saw a man suddenly stopped in the streets, 
 sharply questioned, and then led off with the resigna- 
 tion of despair written on his features. People saw it, 
 paused a moment in their hurrying progress with 
 perhaps an awestruck expression, then moved on again 
 with that strangely fatalistic Slavonic shoulder- 
 shrugging, as if to say that what is must be, and that 
 all repining is useless and out of place. 
 
 The explosion was almost within sight, it would 
 come in two days, three days, four days — who could 
 say when ? — and he had to leave. 
 
 He gave notice that he was going away that evening, 
 and made the necessary inquiries about trains. The 
 tall porter in the hall, eyeing him curiously the while, 
 gave him the details. One was going in the afternoon, 
 and one precisely at midnight. Faulconbridge chose 
 the second one without a minute's hesitation, and gave 
 instructions regarding his luggage. When he had 
 arranged that he had nothing more to do but to be at 
 the station a few minutes before midnight. 
 
 Some placards in red caught his attention, and he 
 asked for an explanation. The porter, evidently desir- 
 ous of talking, gave voluble explanations. An operatic 
 performance, a very special performance, was being 
 given that very evening by special permission in aid of 
 the widows and orphans of the victims of the war. A 
 world-famous basso had been stopping here for a I 
 days, and had signified his willingness to perform. 
 His name was sufficient to fill any opera-house — it was 
 to be one of Tschaikowsky's more obscure operas— but 
 
266 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 splendid, perfectly splendid. It had a famous scene 
 in it, which was as savage as a nightmare. Nobody 
 should miss it — it would be over by eleven o'clock. 
 
 Faulconbridge quickly assented and bought a 
 ticket. This would just suit his mood — he would drive 
 straight from the theatre to the station as fast as he 
 could. It would be a fit ending. . . . 
 
 His mental unrest grew throughout the day — 
 everything was becoming more and more strange and 
 unnatural to him : his enforced solitude in the midst 
 of the great crowds somehow greatly affected him. 
 The fat Frenchman even would have been a source of 
 consolation to him, much as he detested the man's 
 coarse speech, his plebeian mannerisms, and the cruel 
 and false way in which he had stabbed at the girl. 
 But he, too, had apparently vanished into space — 
 Faulconbridge had gone so far as to make inquiries at 
 the hotel office, but a sudden reticence was apparent 
 which he could only explain on the grounds that some- 
 thing strange had also happened to him. 
 
 He made a complete circuit of the town twice 
 during the day in his unending walking, and he had 
 the feeling that in spite of the Grand-Duke's assur- 
 ances he was being constantly followed. He did not 
 trouble to confirm his suspicions as he would certainly 
 have done a few days before — what was the use now ? 
 He saw — or thought he saw — the small, ugly man 
 whom he had so roughly handled, several times during 
 the course of that day, but the man was evidently not 
 anxious to be observed, and each time had quickly 
 disappeared. 
 
 Evening came finally — though the hours had been 
 so leaden-footed — a heavy, close evening with no breeze 
 to sweep away the accumulated heat of the day. The 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 267 
 
 theatre would be stifling he was sure — he almost 
 hesitated about going. But his ticket had been bought, 
 and the prospect of a dramatic ending to a dramatic 
 sojourn finally conquered him. 
 
 He dined in solemn silence by the plashing waters 
 of the fountain set in the middle of the great hotel- 
 restaurant. It was refreshingly cool where he sat, and 
 as the sound of gay voices grew, his spirits were sensibly 
 revived. After all, he argued to himself, it had been 
 a unique experience ; it would give him something to 
 remember in after years. He had done nothing he 
 could be really sorry for. And if this girl, who had 
 appealed to him so romantically, who had seemed so 
 sweet and charming, disappeared for ever from his 
 life, it would doubtless be only in accordance with the 
 eternal fitness of things. 
 
 " Yes," he said to himself, as we always do when we 
 are arguing in that vicious circle called self-comforting, 
 " perhaps it has been all for the best." 
 
 And just then something made him turn. In the 
 confusion which overcame him he upset his glass, 
 tried to pick it up, and as a consequence sent it most 
 disastrously crashing to the ground. 
 
 It was unbelievable madness — it could not be true, 
 he thought piteously, since he had just decided that 
 the very opposite was all for the best. Yet there, not 
 ten yards away, in a simple muslin dress, unrelieved by 
 any colour save for a bunch of red roses pinned to her 
 bosom, with a big hat shading her face, sat Sasha, in 
 company of two unknown men. 
 
 Faulconbridge, amazed beyond words, remained as 
 if transfixed. She had come back to discomfort 
 him. . . . 
 
 At the sound of the crashing glass she had slightly 
 
268 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 started. Then it seemed to him, as her eyes flashed 
 to his table, that the ghost of a smile passed round her 
 red lips. 
 
 To hide his emotion he called to his waiter and 
 settled his bill. Then for a few uncounted minutes he 
 sat there motionless as a stone image, with the piece of 
 paper which the man had tendered him crumpled 
 between his fingers. He had forgotten quite magically 
 all his previous reasoning. The mere sight of the girl 
 had been enough for that. . . . 
 
 What did it mean, this bold, insane coming to the 
 lion's den ? 
 
 He made up his mind that he could not sit there 
 indefinitely like that. It was necessary to move ; to 
 do something ; to shake off the growing spell. He 
 must not give way. Now, convinced once more 
 against his inclination of the necessity to be firm, he 
 suddenly rose and pushed his chair noisily against the 
 table — to prove to himself the strength of his resolu- 
 tion. Very slowly and deliberately he turned and 
 walked out. As he passed her for an instant she lifted 
 her calm grey eyes and looked into his. Then, 
 almost immediately, the long lashes fluttered down 
 upon her cheeks. 
 
 Without a sign of recognition he passed on. 
 
XXV 
 
 THE opera-house was only a stone's throw from 
 the hotel — he walked there deep in thought. 
 The street was full of people going in the same 
 direction, some gay, others grave — but all hurrying 
 so that they should secure their places in ample time. 
 Scraps of conversation reached him spoken in half 
 the languages of Europe. Everybody was talking 
 of the great singer who was providing such an un- 
 expected attraction at this season of the year. All 
 the cosmopolitans in the city had turned out in force, 
 determined to enjoy themselves and to forget the 
 anxieties of the hour. It was plain that the opera- 
 house would be packed from floor to ceiling. 
 
 It was still quite light. The sun, though it had 
 long since set, had left a faint ethereal tint of pink 
 on the sky — as if it had kissed the heavens good-bye 
 in such a warm, enduring embrace that the colour of 
 that emotion remained behind, attesting to all who 
 could understand such things the vast depths of 
 nature's affections. 
 
 It had suddenly become for Faulconbridge a charm- 
 ing evening — a strangely delightful evening. He felt 
 indignant that he should have so lately thought the 
 air hot and sultry, the town perhaps unhealthy. Life 
 and emotions were warm — even hot ; why then com- 
 plain of the sultry hours of summer, when these must 
 always be pregnant with a significance which cold 
 
 269 
 
270 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 winter days can never possess ? Foolish he had been 
 — yes, really foolish for three whole days. Now he 
 suddenly wished that it might become even hotter ; 
 as hot as red wine makes red blood course through 
 the veins. For was not Sasha coursing through him ? 
 That was enough to excuse everything. 
 
 He lingered on the steps of the opera-house looking 
 at the earth and the heaven which is above the earth, 
 and perhaps even at the things which are above 
 heaven itself. He wished to see it all once more before 
 night fell whilst his eyes were still so bright. Oh, 
 beautiful world to live in when there is hope — and 
 sad, torturing world when there is nothing but de- 
 spair ! And what a world of curious, strange con- 
 trasts — of virgin whites mixed with mourners' blacks ! 
 It had seemed but one brief half-hour before that he 
 was in an unknown land journeying to unknown shores 
 disconsolate, distempered — condemned not to enjoy 
 the passions of those bathed in the sunshine of hope, 
 but to welter in the gloom of the disillusioned. Now 
 all was magically changed — all was tinted with that 
 eternal colour of youth which we so naively call hope. 
 The unfamiliar people had become familiar again ; a 
 strange new friendship had sprung up again between 
 this Russian world and himself. All that he had been 
 imagining to himself during scores of fretful hours 
 had been nothing but evil dreams — suddenly swept 
 away. . . . 
 
 Yes, he thought these simple thoughts because for 
 him they made up the emotion of the hour ; and as 
 he thought them he breathed deeply in a new-born 
 satisfaction. 
 
 He had made up his mind. He forgot his promise 
 to leave, the fate which would menace him if he 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 271 
 
 stayed ; he forgot everything but the charm of her 
 face. He would go back to her before the opera was 
 over — whilst there was still time to make a change 
 of plans. He would convince her — by main force if 
 necessary — that it was madness for her to sacrifice 
 herself in a lost cause. He would tell her what had 
 passed at the police administration between him and 
 this very man she wished to rob ; he would dwell on 
 the magnanimity of the Grand-Duke, and the necessity 
 to avoid a crime. Somehow he felt that it would be 
 easy to win her over to his way of thinking immediately 
 he saw her : he was convinced he would find her oddly 
 changed. 
 
 A hush had already fallen on the audience when at 
 length he took his place. The orchestra, as if im- 
 patient to begin, had commenced playing the opening 
 prelude, and the rich, wild music of the greatest of 
 Russian composers — who died an old man, burnt-up 
 by the fire of his own ardour whilst he was still young — 
 now rose to charm the ears of a people who worship 
 harmonies. There was in these introductory passages 
 the picture of a people groping for light and safety in 
 the midst of vast untamed distances fringed with end- 
 less forests of pine and birch — the picture of a people 
 passionate yet stern, appreciative of colour and form, 
 yet able to endure utter formlessness and blankness, 
 a people loving tears perhaps as much as laughter — 
 in a word, the picture of a great people in the 
 making. 
 
 The audience sat breathless and spellbound. Men 
 and women watched this voluptuous painting in silent 
 concentration, only showing their intense force by 
 the curious sighs and whispers which floated in the 
 air, gentle sighs and whispers like the voice of the 
 
272 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 night wind which creeps through the ripe corn and 
 stirs the sleeping grain of life. These sighs and whis- 
 pers, escaping from the bosom of the great audience 
 and flitting along beneath the master-melody, seemed 
 to Faulconbridge like unloosed spirits sent oat to 
 meet the lost brothers and sisters who were calling 
 and wailing in the music, and claiming help. It was 
 marvellous and enchaining. He sat spellbound like 
 the rest. 
 
 Suddenly a mysterious phrase, stealing forward like 
 a snake, broke through the storm of sound. Sharp, 
 piercing notes were raised from time to time as if in 
 protest — but the snake continued to steal forward. 
 A curious shiver in the music — accompanying this 
 curious motif — now filled the audience with shudders, 
 but the voluptuous phrase continued to wind its way in 
 and out of the harmony, insinuating, languid, yet 
 aggressive — implacable — a creature both of heaven 
 and hell. 
 
 Then a veritable battle commenced. The sullen 
 roar of brass announced the conflict, which the hissing 
 of the snake had preluded. A tumult of sound both 
 deep and high-pitched followed, but the mysterious 
 phrase, reinforced and triumphant, grew in volume 
 until at last the scattered sound suddenly united and 
 melted into a great song of songs which swept up, 
 sublime and perfect, full of the intoxication of love. 
 
 Faulconbridge was overcome. His eyes, half un- 
 known to himself, had filled with tears because the 
 emotion in the music harmonized so well with the 
 emotion in his heart. As the volume of sound rose 
 and fell, and the master - painter swiftly painted, 
 unconsciously his mind was prepared for the scenes 
 which were to follow, and their message made clear. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 273 
 
 Now, as the music swelled to a last great crescendo of 
 sound, with the brass roaring and roaring, and the 
 strings singing and singing as if possessed, Faulcon- 
 bridge suddenly grasped the arms of his stall to steady 
 himself. 
 
 The great volume of sound flung itself up against the 
 rich gilt ceiling as if vainly seeking to escape, and then 
 fell back languidly across the warm breasts of the 
 women and the glistening faces of the men, enveloping 
 everything within its puissant folds. Then, before the 
 confused ear was ready to confess it, the tumult had 
 died gently away, curiously, suddenly, yet slowly — as 
 the wind dies down when the storm is done. The 
 curtain had already risen — the play commenced. 
 
 He did not take note of much at first ; he was 
 still under the spell of the fantastic opening. But 
 at length a thrill passed along the packed opera-house 
 and the audience began frantically acclaiming its idol 
 who had quietly appeared. Then, as if weary with 
 this excess of emotion, men and women sank back in 
 their seats to enjoy the great savage scene through 
 which the solitary voice of the basso wanders like the 
 power of evil. Faulconbridge, still deep in his reverie, 
 saw only dimly, as through a mist of giant cliffs, a 
 distant cataract, dense black forests lowering on the 
 horizon, and above it all the voice of that incomparable 
 singer, like distant thunder, angrily muttering and 
 upbraiding, chiding the Fates because of their stern 
 decrees. 
 
 Presently the voice drew nearer. Now it rose 
 stronger and more exultantly — suddenly it had become 
 immense and was frantically telling the story of an 
 impending drama. The singer's iron lungs were being 
 used to their fullest power — vying with the very 
 18 
 
274 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 orchestra and sending forth glorious organ-like notes. 
 Every line in the man's body — every gesture depicted 
 masterly savagery ; and as the climax came nearer and 
 nearer the audience could contain itself no longer. 
 It rose at him, madly shouting his name as if it had 
 been the name of a god. Then, as, never pausing, he 
 completed the phrase, there was a sudden frantic 
 woman's shriek, followed by another and yet another, 
 and then muffled reports of one, two, three explosion: - . 
 
 Something terrible had happened in the opera- 
 house. 
 
 For a brief second there was suspense ; then pande- 
 monium broke loose. 
 
 Everybody began shouting and screaming — there 
 was blind panic. In the distance there was some dull 
 thudding as if artillery had come into action ; but 
 almost immediately that was blotted out by the storm 
 in the theatre. The hysterical cries from the women, 
 the excited shouts from the men, had now melted into 
 one great confused uproar. The orchestra had ceased 
 playing ; the singers had stopped where they stood ; 
 and from the glare of footlights on the stage were 
 peering anxiously into the darkened house. 
 
 The shouts and cries redoubled, spoken in a dozen 
 languages : 
 
 " What has happened ? " 
 
 " Lights, lights ! " 
 
 " Is there a fire ? " 
 
 " Murder, murder ! " 
 
 " Fire, fire — let us get out ! " 
 
 Then again senseless cries and weeping, and a 
 growing stampede. 
 
 In the midst of the hubbub, the curtain fell with 
 a crash, and the lights in the auditorium were turned 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 275 
 
 on. Faulconbridge, engaged in holding back a frantic 
 man who was madly trying to throw him out of the 
 way, became suddenly aware that grey-coated infantry- 
 men were streaming in through the entrances, beating 
 back the struggling people with the butts of their 
 rifles. The officers at their head, with draw r n swords, 
 were shouting insanely, but what they said he had 
 no means of knowing. 
 
 Now, in the strangest way possible, he suddenly 
 became aware of the proximity of people whose faces 
 were oddly familiar to him. A guide from the hotel 
 was only a few places from him. Beside him was a 
 gaunt American dame whose questions he had over- 
 heard in the hotel hall that very morning, and which, 
 in spite of his preoccupation, had greatly amused him. 
 A party of Germans who had slowly walked all the 
 way to the theatre just behind him loudly discussing 
 the merits and demerits of modern composers, were 
 piled in a frightened heap at one of the aisles. Then 
 something else made him turn. Not three yards away 
 — as cold and calm as if he had been turned to stone, 
 save for the fierce light in his eyes, w T hich were fixed 
 on the distance, was the man they had called the 
 Malny doctor — oddly changed by the shaving of his 
 beard, but still recognizable. 
 
 A great lurch in the crowd suddenly brought the 
 guide with his charge clutching to him almost on top 
 of Faulconbridge. He heard the sharp voice of the 
 American dame hysterically repeating : 
 
 " I arrived here this morning by the Saint Peters- 
 burg express, because I was assured by Cook that 
 Moscow was one of the safest cities in the world. Now 
 tell me just what does this mean, what does this 
 mean ? " 
 
276 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 The guide, almost beside himself, was trying vainly 
 to shake her off, and swearing in half a dozen lan- 
 guages. In a sudden collapse he recognized Faulcon- 
 bridge and implored his help. 
 
 " The woman, he go mad, the woman, he could go 
 mad," he repeated again and again. 
 
 And behind his back always came the same formula 
 as if in extenuation. 
 
 " I was assured by Cook that Moscow was one of 
 the safest cities in the world. ..." 
 
 Faulconbridge, in desperation, exerted his strength 
 and threw the man, who was still clutching him, across 
 a seat. This was worse than anything he had 
 dreamed of. 
 
 " Can we get out, or can we not ? " he shouted at 
 the guide. 
 
 The man babbled back a medley of stupidities which 
 perhaps contained sense. 
 
 " Not move, not move ! The army he coming, per- 
 haps to shoot. It is a pogrom, perhaps. I understand 
 nothing." 
 
 Faulconbridge, determined to act, suddenly vaulted 
 over the line of seats, beat back the struggling press, 
 and at length managed to reach the Malny doctor. 
 He seized him by the arm in his strong grasp and 
 shook him. 
 
 The doctor gave no sign of recognition. In his eyes 
 there was only the same despairing light. 
 
 " You, sir, what is it ? " questioned Faulconbridge. 
 " Can we get out ? . . ." 
 
 The doctor did not answer at first — he had been 
 turned to stone save for those strange eyes which were 
 turned on his questioner in their agony in an almost 
 dog-like manner. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 277 
 
 " What has happened? " he repeated at length in 
 English, in a hoarse whisper, showing that he knew 
 who was addressing him, " nothing but that Czarism 
 is at bay and will crush its enemies before they have 
 time to rise." 
 
 He gave a harsh laugh and folded his arms. No- 
 body would be allowed out of the theatre — until they 
 had been searched and questioned. This time the 
 net would drag him in. 
 
 Faulconbridge, baffled once more, paused irreso- 
 lutely. In spite of the confusion, order was being 
 slowly restored. The soldiers, constantly reinforced 
 from without, were still pushing their way in through 
 every entrance and cowering men and women to 
 silence by their brutalities. Everybody who showed 
 the slightest sign of resisting was struck and beaten 
 back with the rifle-butts — Czarism was not only at 
 bay, but actively aggressive. Evidently some plan lay 
 behind all this. There was not a moment to be lost — 
 for those who meant to get out. 
 
 Faulconbridge gave an exclamation at his stupidity, 
 and turned to the mute doctor once more. 
 
 " Listen," he said in a low, clear voice. " Follow 
 me. Climb over the seats quickly. We will try it — 
 cost what it may. You will see what I mean. 
 Follow." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, he vaulted back 
 over the first line of seats, forced an opening to the 
 next line, went over in the same manner, and in spite 
 of the cries and blows which his passage aroused, 
 gradually wormed his way through until he was right 
 against the high wooden barrier which walled in the 
 orchestra. The doctor, though less powerful, had 
 somehow managed to follow ; now panting with his 
 
278 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 efforts, and as pale as death, he clutched Faulconbridge 
 by the arm to show that he was there. 
 
 Fortunately for them the confusion had suddenly 
 increased. Faulconbridge, sweeping the scene with 
 his eyes, judged that they could spring over the par- 
 tition without being stopped. Something had gone 
 wrong with the lighting in one corner of the house, 
 and from that darkened wing now came a stream of 
 shrill cries as the soldiers, fearing that foul play menaced 
 them here, pricked back the throng with their bayonets. 
 Everybody had turned instinctively in that direction. 
 It was now or never. 
 
 "Come on," exclaimed Faulconbridge in his quick, 
 energetic voice. 
 
 He threw a leg over, glanced round once to make 
 certain, then with a rapid movement dropped to the 
 ground amongst the overturned musicians' chairs and 
 the abandoned instruments. As the doctor's legs 
 came over Faulconbridge caught him by the waist 
 and set him on the ground. Then, without a second's 
 delay, the two rushed into the narrow hole of an 
 entrance under the stage. In an instant they had 
 left the tumult and confusion behind them, and were 
 in the midst of the strange litter of the subterranean 
 passages. 
 
 A remarkable change had come over the doctor. 
 Hope had suddenly taken fresh root in his breast, a new 
 energy was infused in his motions. Now he picked 
 his way rapidly through the litter on the ground as if 
 he knew the way. Instinctively he had taken the lead 
 out of the other man's hands. 
 
 " You have saved my life," he exclaimed in his deep 
 voice, turning and pausing for a moment to adjust 
 his glasses, which were dangling at the end of their black 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 279 
 
 braid. " But the most difficult part is still ahead. 
 Let us be cautious, very cautious. I think I can find 
 my way here." 
 
 Now he walked rapidly through the wilderness which 
 opened up in every direction. Half the lights were out. 
 Scaffolding, ropes, pulleys, queer models, dummies, 
 all the fantasia of a great opera-house was scattered 
 around them ; but of a living soul there was no trace. 
 Everyone had fled, suddenly, incontinently — the musi- 
 cians, the singers off the stage, the supers, the me- 
 chanics, the dressers, the very door-keepers. 
 
 " Hush," exclaimed Faulconbridge, springing on his 
 companion and drawing him back. His ears had 
 picked up a faint patter in the distance, followed by 
 what seemed like a muffled cough. 
 
 The two men, scarcely breathing, stood in the 
 shadow of a great piece of boarded canvas repre- 
 senting a portion of a castle. Faulconbridge had 
 clenched his fists ; but the doctor's hand was on his 
 hip-pocket. 
 
 Suddenly he gave a half-suppressed laugh and then 
 a soft whistle. 
 
 " It's only a dog, a little pet dog left behind," he 
 exclaimed. "Here — come here, you poor little 
 beast." 
 
 The little animal gave a bark of delight as it caught 
 sight of human beings and ran up madly wagging its 
 tail and jumping as if possessed. It had been terrified 
 by this deserted world. 
 
 Convinced now that they had the place to them- 
 selves, without further delay the two fugitives made 
 their way boldly through interminable corridors that 
 twisted out to the back of the immense building. At 
 last they gained a door — and were on the street. The 
 
280 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 supreme moment had arrived — could they dare to 
 risk themselves in the open ? 
 
 The answer came almost before they were prepared 
 for it. A steady tramp in the deserted thoroughfare 
 met their ears, and then the street lamps were shining 
 on long lines of bayonets that sent up glittering 
 flashes. Already the city was being occupied in force 
 by the soldiery — every barracks was emptying out 
 its floods of men. 
 
 The infantry marched nearer, silent, impressive. 
 There were a lot of them, several companies at 
 least. 
 
 The doctor gave a groan. 
 
 " Too late, too late, my friend, in spite of all your 
 help," he murmured. " Like rats in a trap we are 
 caught. Do you see, do you see ? They are coming 
 from every direction. . . . When they are ready they 
 will open the traps and the cats will devour us." 
 
 He fell against the door in mute despair. 
 
 The dog was barking violently in an ecstasy of 
 alarm at the approaching array. Faulconbridge, his 
 hand on the handle of the door, paused irresolute, not 
 knowing what to do. A strange sensation of dread 
 was present in his mind, resembling those passing 
 fears which occasionally assail us, only to vanish and 
 be forgotten ; but which subsequent events prove to 
 have been the winged messengers of impending disas- 
 ter. So he stood there twisting the handle of the door 
 — a prey to the liveliest despondency. 
 
 Suddenly another remarkable thing happened ; 
 there was the sound of a distant explosion and im- 
 mediately the street became pitch-black. Every light, 
 every single light in the town had apparently been 
 extinguished. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 281 
 
 The doctor gave an exclamation of joy — almost a 
 shout. 
 
 " All is not lost," he called recklessly. " The plans 
 are working, in spite of the surprise. Moscow is in 
 darkness, in complete darkness, the lighting is de- 
 stroyed. Come, come ! " 
 
 He seized Faulconbridge by the shoulder, and 
 together they ran out. They ran noisily, without any 
 caution at all. It was their only chance. 
 
 Behind them, at the theatre door, the dog gave a 
 whimper of dismay, and then commenced madly 
 barking. But Faulconbridge had no longer any ears 
 for such inconsequential things. His mind was con- 
 centrated on the problem of the girl, and how he should 
 solve it. 
 
A 
 
 XXVI 
 
 ND she — what was Sasha doing ? 
 
 Less than five minutes after this man who 
 had rejected her had walked so coldly and so 
 seriously away, she had suddenly pushed back her own 
 chair, and risen from the table in the middle of an un- 
 finished course. 
 
 Her two companions, both remarkable enough men, 
 since both were staking their lives for an impossible 
 ideal, accepted her sudden loss of appetite with shrugs 
 of indifference. They followed her at once — though 
 they could have eaten more. After all, it is only your 
 easy-minded conventional man who is inclined to be 
 indignant should dinner come to an end in the middle. 
 These two were of that type which may be called old- 
 young ; their youthful features had been made grim 
 by overmuch thinking ; their hair was powdered with 
 grey as if with the gunpowder of endless explosions. 
 They were leaders — mob leaders, and their work was 
 about to begin. 
 
 In the hall the three quietly separated with a few 
 vague words of regret. They were all playing parts, 
 and such things as made men and women really 
 concrete were mere abstractions to them just then. 
 Each had a separate part to play and no time to lose. 
 It was something more than foolhardiness which had 
 brought them to such a public place on the eve of 
 great events : their information was perfect, and they 
 
 282 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 283 
 
 knew that at this particular juncture they were safer 
 in the full glare of open publicity than in private 
 houses. 
 
 For a few minutes, after her companions had left 
 her, Sasha appeared at a loss what to do. She looked 
 about idly and then sauntered to the great folding- 
 doors at the entrance and peered out. There were 
 several men standing there — almost unmistakably en 
 vedette. Who they were only practised eyes could 
 discern, but even a dullard might have understood 
 that they were standing waiting for something great. 
 Apparently satisfied with their appearance, Sasha now 
 came back, and her movements were more brisk. She 
 was proceeding towards the lifts. 
 
 The hotel seemed singularly empty at that hour ; 
 the few people who were about, after some momentary 
 indecision, gravitated slowly towards the gilded rails 
 enclosing the lifts in the wake of this attractive girl. 
 After they were all safely caged a fat man of the com- 
 mercial type went so far as to jostle her rather impu- 
 dently in his attempt to attract her attention. She 
 never showed by so much as a frown that she was 
 aware of his existence : she stood looking at the 
 always novel sight of the building flicking past the 
 chink in the doors as they rapidly flew upwards. 
 
 She got out on her floor in the same calm manner, 
 and then she began sauntering to her room — where 
 she had not been for a number of days — as if she were 
 in no particular hurry. Her eyes, however, played 
 their part less well than the rest of her person ; an 
 attentive observer would have speedily noticed that 
 they were here, there, and everywhere — in fact, 
 examining every crack and corner of the corridor she 
 was passing along, as if she feared some surprise. 
 
284 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 She thrust her key into her door and rattled it in 
 the lock in a peculiar way. Immediately across the 
 corridor a head was thrust out and gave a quick nod. 
 After which the head as rapidly disappeared. 
 
 A gentle smile passed across the girl's face like a ray 
 of sunshine shot down through a rift in the clouds on 
 a dark day ; then, just as the clouds close up and make 
 all gloomy once more, so did the light fade from her 
 features. 
 
 She went into her room very slowly, only closing 
 the door as if the effort were distasteful to her, as if 
 she would like to avoid that decisive action. But no 
 sooner was the door shut than a quick change once 
 more came. She went to her dressing-table and 
 studied it intently. At once, in spite of her self- 
 control, she gave a sharp exclamation, and then stood 
 stock-still. Laid conspicuously in the form of a cross 
 right in the very centre of the table were two ribbons, 
 one red, the other blue ; but so that no significance 
 could be attached to them, a little heap of safety-pins 
 was spilled carelessly across them. 
 
 The girl stood gazing at this cruciform arrangement 
 with an intense look in her eyes ; then, apparently 
 satisfied, she took off her hat, busied herself for a few 
 moments with her hair and a powder-puff, and at last 
 dropped into a chair. It was only a woman who could 
 have done that — with the cross she had to bear in 
 sight . 
 
 " The road is open," she murmured to herself in 
 Polish, clasping her delicate hands tightly together. 
 " Red that the watch has been maintained, blue that 
 everything below remains unchanged. . . ." 
 
 She looked at her watch. It was a quarter to nine — 
 only a quarter to nine ! How leaden-footed were the 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 285 
 
 hours. She gave a petulant movement as she thought 
 of it ; then she slowly covered her face with her hands. 
 She would have to wait at least half an hour — to be 
 certain that the servants were all away — at supper. 
 Well, what was half an hour ? . . . She would have 
 time to think. . . . 
 
 She dropped her hands, and now her wide-open eyes, 
 suddenly narrowing as if she were suffering acutely, 
 gave her face an altered expression. The}' made her 
 look what she really was in spite of her young years — 
 an oldish woman — with too great a burden placed upon 
 her. There are peasants who look like that, but not 
 many others. Her mouth, perhaps following the lead 
 given by her eyes, pursed up strangely too, and now 
 as she sat there with deep lines on her face she was no 
 longer the idol of cafe chantants and romantic young 
 men and old-fashioned roues. The change was re- 
 markable and arresting. 
 
 She sat quite motionless for a number of minutes, 
 staring at the future which was so rapidly marching 
 towards her. She sat there alone with her thoughts — 
 never moving so much as a hair's-breadth. But at 
 last she relaxed herself, and a vague smile travelled 
 across her features. 
 
 " Ah ! If it could have been," she murmured in 
 her mother tongue. 
 
 Now she stretched out her arms with a yearning 
 movement. Her eyes became wet and her cheeks were 
 caressed by her long bedewed lashes. 
 
 Suddenly her arms dropped — quite limply beside 
 her. " No," she exclaimed softly ; " no ! " she 
 added more violently, " no weakness. It must 
 be." 
 
 Yet she gave a half-suppressed sob. 
 
286 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " I do not want to die. No, no, no. Life is too good 
 and sweet." 
 
 For a moment an expression of fear passed over her 
 face. Then, with a sharp movement, she stood up. 
 
 " Alexandra Alexandrovna, do your duty," she 
 apostrophized herself proudly in the way her brother 
 had done when she had told him her dilemma. 
 
 She went swiftly across the room, unlocked a drawer, 
 took out a little flask, and hastily drank some of the 
 contents. It must have been strong, for almost im- 
 mediately it brought two bright spots of colour on her 
 cheeks. She made a little grimace, as if the taste were 
 not to her liking ; but after a short pause once more 
 she drank to give her nerves fresh courage. 
 
 Then she consulted her watch. 
 
 "It is almost time," she murmured. 
 
 Gathering up the ribbons which had been so strangely 
 arranged, she rapidly pinned them together with 
 safety-pins — which weighted them as well as held 
 them together. Then she threw open the long French 
 window and gently tiptoed to her balcony, where she 
 had once sung to Richard Faulconbridge. 
 
 It was a peaceful night. There was no moon. The 
 great square only appeared distinct immediately 
 below her — where the glare of the hotel lights was 
 strong, spreading across the cobblestones in ever- 
 diminishing strength until it met the light of a line 
 of lamp-posts. Beyond it seemed very dark — a con- 
 fused mist encircled by a grey sky. But in the distance 
 she could see another patch of brilliant lighting. It 
 was the opera-house — lighted as if in festive mood. 
 
 She stood looking down carefully for quite five 
 minutes before she acted. Then, evidently satisfied, 
 she let go the bunch of ribbon and watched it flutter 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 287 
 
 to the ground. Hardly had it arrived on terra firma 
 than she turned and re-entered the room. 
 
 Now, without a second's delay, she approached the 
 door, listened carefully to make sure that the corridor 
 was empty, and then noiselessly turned the handle 
 and went out. 
 
 Her movements became as swift as a bird's and 
 every bit as noiseless. Her feet darted over the carpet 
 as lightly as a dancer showing off her paces. She 
 gained the first turning of the corridor with almost 
 unbelievable rapidity, peered round, and then went 
 on. Twice she repeated this performance, and then 
 she was standing at the head of the servants' staircase, 
 scarcely ever used, as she knew. She went down it 
 quietly and swiftly— passing two floors just as an 
 eager child runs to get speedily out of doors. 
 
 Fortune had smiled on her ; she had met not a soul. 
 
 Now the moment of ordeal had come. Not pausing, 
 she ran on the points of her toes down the corridor, 
 glancing sharply at the numbers as she passed them. 
 This was the floor of the appartements de luxe. . . . 
 
 She had arrived. Quick as thought her slender 
 fingers took a curious slip of a key from her pocket, and 
 with one swift turn she had unlocked the door. Not 
 pausing an instant, she turned the handle, peered in, 
 and then switched on the light, closing the door as 
 she did so. 
 
 The handsome sitting-room was empty — quite 
 empty — there was not the slightest doubt about 
 that. The severe antique tone of the furniture con- 
 trasted strangely with the mode of the rest of the 
 building and struck her attention. Here there was 
 nothing but plush — plush curtains, plush sofas, plush 
 arm-chairs— all that old-fashioned abomination which 
 
288 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 is now fortunately moribund. There was only one 
 light piece of furniture in the room — the writing-table. 
 In strange contrast to the rest it was Louis XV. It 
 was put in the very ugliest place of all — beside the 
 heavy plush curtains. 
 
 She absorbed every detail with marvellous rapidity 
 — recognizing the details from the elaborate descrip- 
 tions which had been furnished her. Under the writing- 
 table were the dispatch-boxes — it was the second 
 dispatch-box — the red one. On the points of her toes 
 she ran across the room, bent down, pushed back the 
 first box, took hold of the second by the strap, and 
 was about to rise when an iron grip seized her from 
 behind. 
 
 A half-suppressed shriek rose to her lips, and then 
 she gave a great moan of despair. Now, like a wild 
 thing that has been cunningly trapped, she wrestled 
 to tear herself free — wrestled so hard that she cruelly 
 bruised her tender flesh. She could not even see who 
 had caught her and held her prisoner. 
 
 All was in vain. The cruel hands held her very 
 expertly, as in a vice, with her head down — at last, 
 abandoning her struggles, she fell half -choking to the 
 ground, and there was a sharp click. He had put the 
 bracelets on her, and the weapon which she had so 
 long carried as a last refuge had become utterly 
 useless. 
 
 " Well, my little dove," said her captor coolly, 
 leaving her where she had fallen and coming round and 
 calmly seating himself in front of her, " it was not 
 so easy as it looked, eh ? You come stealing into 
 people's rooms, and think that the people are all 
 such pretty fools as to leave their rooms open to other 
 people's kej^s with nothing to protect their valuables ! 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 289 
 
 But we were ready for you, ha, ha ! And then we 
 catch you, as simply as we catch a miserable mouse 
 in a common little trap ! " 
 
 He laughed in a deep, curious way, watching her 
 struggle up from the ground, and then lean half- 
 fainting against the wall. 
 
 " Coward," she said through her clinched teeth. 
 
 The man, a big, burly fellow dressed in a loose tunic 
 caught round his waist by a leather belt, laughed un- 
 concerned. 
 
 " Coward ? Hai — so I, who have medals, am a 
 coward ; and why, please ? Cannot people protect 
 their own property any more ? That for your miserable 
 nihilists and revolutionaries and spies and thieves ! ' 
 He snapped his fingers at her contemptuously. " I 
 have been waiting for you for a week, I tell you — a 
 whole week — and now I have caught you, doorack — 
 fool." 
 
 He pushed out a great top-booted foot to show the 
 measure of his disdain ; and then he leered at her 
 as if he were infinitely amused. 
 
 M And yet you are a coward," returned the girl in 
 a low, passionate voice, recovering herself. " Had I 
 been a man and not a woman you would have been 
 beaten — beaten in spite of your tricks — you big, ugly, 
 low peasant. You hound of a peasant. Even though 
 you hide behind curtains, and spring out and trap 
 women like a coward, and then sit laughing at them, 
 you will get your punishment ; only wait and see — low, 
 ugly peasant ! . . ." 
 
 Now standing away from the wall she faced him 
 defiantly, an ecstasy of rage blazing from her eyes ; 
 sorely bruising her soft wrists on the cruel steel, as she 
 vainly twisted and pulled. 
 19 
 
290 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 A wave of dark colour had flooded the man's face. 
 Her words had lashed him as a whip lashes, and now 
 he rose clumsily to his feet. 
 
 " Here," he said, putting out a heavy hand, " you 
 will ask leave to speak, and when you speak it will 
 be well to be civil, or I will hold your tongue for 
 you." 
 
 He assumed a menacing attitude, but Sasha only 
 gave a disdainful laugh. 
 
 " Low, ugly peasants have no business to command 
 or to instruct people. Keep away from me. ..." 
 
 She shrank back as he sought to grasp her. But 
 though she retreated as far as she could, the wall 
 soon denied her much relief, and in spite of her twist - 
 ings and turnings he had finally seized her firmly by 
 the shoulders. 
 
 " Well," he said, giving her a rough shake, " well, 
 how is it now, my little dove ? . . ." 
 
 Once more he leered into her face, putting himself 
 so close that his mouth almost touched hers, and his 
 breath offended her nostrils. 
 
 She twisted frantically this way and that, seeking 
 to escape him, but he checked her in his strong grasp 
 as easily as if she had been a child. 
 
 " You see it is useless," he finally remarked. " Oh, 
 quite useless ! I have you as safely as if you were in 
 a box all tied up, all warm and ready for me, ha." His 
 face assumed a different expression — the devil in the 
 man had been aroused by all this handling of her. 
 " And why should we be so unpleasant to one another 
 when we are quite alone and private ? Confess, I am 
 not a bad-looking fellow. Young I am, and strong — ■ 
 just right for such a darling as you " — he put his arm 
 round her neck. " Now I have you firm — you see. " 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 291 
 
 " Leave me alone/' she gasped, almost fainting from 
 fear. 
 
 " With such a chance as this — with all so quiet and 
 peaceful ? " His voice came more thickly now, and 
 it was hard to understand his words, though his mean- 
 ing was plain. 
 
 " Leave me," she gasped again. 
 
 " Never," he muttered. 
 
 Suddenly she shrieked again and again. 
 
 " Ivan, Ivan," she called wildly, as if she had lost 
 her control ; " Ivan, Ivan, Ivan. . . ." 
 
 For a moment — but only for a moment — there was 
 breathless silence. Then quietly and mysteriously 
 the door into the corridor had opened and there stepped 
 into the room no other person than the tall, white- 
 bearded man — hatless, without his black spectacles, 
 his blue eyes now flashing like the steel of a sharpened 
 sword. At last he proclaimed boldly to all the world 
 that he was not blind ; that it was a mask — a fraud. . . . 
 
 Sternly, silently, he came forward, facing the amaze- 
 ment of the other with calm disdain. 
 
 "I am here, Alexandra Alexandrovna," he said, 
 taking a hunter's knife out of a sheath under his belt. 
 " I am ready, Alexandra Alexandrovna — I have been 
 waiting down there in the street below, and now I have 
 come." 
 
 He watched, as a hunter watches, the burly fellow 
 who, like a trapped animal, was flicking his small pig's 
 eyes this way and that — seeking for a way to safety. 
 The man had dropped away from the girl, as a man 
 drops a burning cinder. 
 
 A moment passed in terrible silence. Leaning 
 pantingly against the wall, her lips slightly parted, her 
 great eyes never flickering, Sasha watched the two. 
 
292 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 She saw that her captor was edging round ; she saw 
 him moving artfully as a coward moves, perhaps he 
 was nearing a bell. Once again the floor reeled below 
 her feet. 
 
 " Strike, Ivan," she whispered hoarsely, " strike." 
 The sham blind man edged carefully nearer — not 
 hastening in spite of her words. Confused expressions 
 tumbled from the other man's mouth. His ruddy 
 colour had completely faded, and now his face looked 
 pasty, ghastly. For behind the sham blind man, 
 towering above him like a spectre, his eyes saw another 
 figure. Its name was Death. . . . 
 
 Suddenly he gave a hoarse, defiant shout, bent down, 
 pulled a knife from his boot, and rushed heavily for- 
 ward. 
 
 A terrible duel commenced. 
 
 Now they fought — savagely, desperately, silently, 
 fearfully. Each held far in front of him— as if it had 
 been a shield — the unarmed left arm — to be transfixed, 
 perhaps, but to save heart and neck. Glitter. . . . 
 Stab. . . . Red blood streams. . . . Groans. . . . 
 Sasha watches as if in a dream. Ivan is the more 
 cunning, as an old bear-hunter should be — the other 
 stronger because of his youth. They fight with growing 
 desperation — the scene swims before her eyes. 
 
 Both are wounded, badly, sorely. She realizes it 
 vaguely, curiously, because the film over her eyes will 
 not allow her to see clearly. Now they fling curious, 
 disjointed, irrelevant words at one another which 
 sound childish. Protests, peevish complaints reach 
 her ... as if in their death-agony men want to cry 
 and become children again, cared for by stronger 
 beings. . . . Dear God — what a scene ! 
 
 Suddenly her Ivan sinks on his knees. Is it a trick-— 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 293 
 
 or the end ? . . . Sasha, watching with a terrible 
 anguish in her heart, cannot decide. The broad back 
 of her captor is turned towards her, and now, manacled 
 as she is, with all her force she leaps at it. 
 
 " Ivan," she screams, as she rolls to the ground, 
 closing her eyes, fainting in front of the man, who 
 stabs at her savagely. 
 
 She opened her eyes at last, surprised at the quiet — 
 at the great peaceful, surprising quiet. 
 
 Everything was quiet — very quiet. 
 
 What had happened ? Where was she ? With an 
 effort, handicapped as she was, she struggled to her 
 knees — feeling something wet on her neck, on her 
 bosom. Ivan is sitting on the ground very close to 
 her, wiping his knife on his tunic and talking to himself 
 unendingly in a strange whisper. The other man, on 
 his back, is staring up fixedly at the ceiling. There 
 was in the room a brooding silence : the silence of 
 long nights, of gloomy forests, of endless, sandy 
 deserts. It was terrible. . . . 
 
 <v Ivan, Ivan," she whispered, feeling strangely 
 weak. She stretched out her hand tenderly, almost 
 fearfully, to the old man. " Batushka," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " My child," said the old man vaguely, " my 
 child." 
 
 " Ivan," she said again, " are you hurt, Ivan ? " 
 
 The old man held up his hand and seemed to be 
 swallowing down some secret anguish with the grave 
 and solemn resignation that is characteristic of men 
 who have stood the ordeal of blood and fire on the 
 battlefield. 
 
 " Peace," he said, " it is nothing." 
 
294 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 He sheathed his knife, and with an effort staggered 
 to his feet. . . . 
 
 " If I could find the place," he muttered, " it would 
 be w r ell. But this bleeding — what is it ? " 
 
 For a moment she had a vision of him standing 
 above her — colossal, awe inspiring, with his long white 
 beard and his undaunted eyes, now vaguely troubled. 
 
 Then she remembered no more. 
 
XXVII 
 
 MEANWHILE like two shadows the doctor 
 and Faulconbridge had glided forward, as 
 silent as two forest beasts that flee from the 
 presence of man. As they ran, quite close behind them 
 they could hear the mass of grey-coated infantry 
 noisily murmuring and protesting against the infamy 
 of fighting phantoms in the dark. Then the two 
 fugitives turned a corner and the medley of voices was 
 blotted out. 
 
 The doctor led the way — with Faulconbridge glued 
 to his heels. Both men were prey to fearful anxiety ; 
 both understood the necessity of not wasting a minute. 
 Their wonderful luck could not last. 
 
 Yet though every street and almost every lane of 
 this city was familiar to the doctor, the darkness and 
 the dread of surprise made him falter again and again. 
 It was necessary to be cautious, too — to avoid the 
 great thoroughfares ; and now, as he selected narrow 
 streets, he found that only a huge detour would allow 
 them to gain the great square in safety. Pickets of 
 infantry — hastily scattered as soon as the first alarm 
 had sounded, were already advancing cautiously in 
 spite of the Cimmerian blackness ; and the sound of 
 their heavy tread and the occasional clash of steel 
 warned the two men that danger lurked everywhere. 
 
 For Faulconbridge it was an extraordinary ex- 
 perience. Some sixth sense, indeed, seemed to give 
 
 295 
 
296 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 the doctor quick notice whenever such dangers sud- 
 denly grew out of the night ; but twice even his strange 
 foresight was hardly sufficient to push aside the menace 
 of death. Rough voices rang out at them, and as no 
 answer came back the blackness spat tongues of fire, 
 and vicious bullets hissed past their heads. 
 
 Again and again the doctor, with his hoarse whisper 
 of warning, doubled back — always seeking for an out- 
 let which would bring them to the oasis of the great 
 square, always headed off by some fresh danger. Soon 
 they settled down to it with that infinite capacity for 
 adjustment which the human mind possesses ; and yet 
 it was destined to leave an indelible mark on both. 
 
 Strange things happened on that night of nights — 
 mad things such as are always thrown up by mad 
 events. Voices of panic -struck wayfarers, hearing 
 them rush past, suddenly implored help — as if help 
 were a coin to be thrown to the needy by the charitable 
 — the voices implored help in every shade of tone. To 
 Faulconbridge it was like an undisciplined shipwreck 
 — with a mad sauve qui pent. Once a man with his 
 head down, as if avoiding a thunderstorm of rain and 
 lightning, had rushed out from a doorway and flung 
 his arms tightly round Faulconbridge's waist, and 
 held him fast, weeping bitterly the while. It took 
 the efforts of both of them to tear him off and drive 
 him back. The night became an endless nightmare — 
 a phantasmagoria — pregnant with peculiar meaning, 
 because of the sound of firing which now rumbled un- 
 endingly in the distance like summer thunder. . . . 
 
 Suddenly the doctor stopped short in his running 
 and gave a tremendous sigh. He stood listening in- 
 tently for a few seconds, and then gave a soft laugh 
 of relief. Around them — at last dead silence. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 297 
 
 "Well, well, we have shaken them off for the time 
 being — escaped from their traps, which are all on the 
 other side, you see," he exclaimed. " But we have 
 run half round Moscow, I believe — this is a residential 
 quarter, too far off to be important. . . ." He stood 
 peering this way and that, trying to pick meaning from 
 the wall of darkness. " In any case, I have lost my 
 way, and the devil alone knows exactly where we are. 
 But we have got out of the traps round the heart 
 of Moscow — which connects with the workmen's 
 quarter. It is something to be thankful for. Listen, 
 listen." 
 
 The rumble in the air seemed to have drawn nearer 
 now. It was so distinct that it now appeared to come 
 only from one direction. The grim monster — authority 
 — was winning once more : counter-surprises were 
 being thrown against the surprises of the evening. 
 
 The doctor listened intently, and then both men 
 simultaneously located the point of the compass. 
 
 " I have it, I have it," exclaimed the doctor ; "we 
 are almost on the banks of the Moskowa — the work- 
 men's quarter lies over there, you see — where the 
 sounds come from, artillery is being used — they are 
 trying to drive them all in. . . . You notice the 
 sounds are spreading gradually over there. They are 
 working by torchlight — the darkness means nothing 
 to them. The Russian army has one great quality, it 
 can improvise ! There is no time to be lost ! From 
 the hotel there may be a road out — in the morning — if 
 morning ever comes. Quickly now." 
 
 He had started off again before there was time to 
 answer him. They ran level with one another now, 
 more easily, more fleetly — the excitement in the air 
 having crept strangely into their blood, as it always 
 
298 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 does with men when the first shock of the unexpected 
 has disaappered. 
 
 Yet at each street corner the doctor repeated his 
 peculiar tactics. Mechanically he slowed down, put 
 out a hand to restrain his companion, and then cau- 
 tiously went round on tiptoes with his arms stretched 
 out far in front of him, as a blind man would have 
 done. He did this as he did everything, with strange 
 method, with strange persistence. At last he came to 
 a complete standstill, giving a sharp exclamation as if 
 he had been struck. 
 
 " Look," he said in his deep voice. 
 
 A lurid light had come on the sky. It was low 
 down on the horizon — so low down as to show that 
 a great distance separated them from this latest catas- 
 trophe. The glow rose and fell as if it were fanned 
 by some giant bellows ; but, though it fell just as it 
 rose, each second added to its size. A great confla- 
 gration had been started — it was evident that it was 
 fast spreading. 
 
 The doctor was the first to speak. 
 
 " Another counter-blow," he groaned. " Those 
 must be the new agricultural factories — eight thousand 
 men employed — one of our great centres. You see, 
 they strike before we are ready to strike — they pre- 
 cipitate the conflict so as to crush quickly. ... It is 
 the old, old policy — they shoot and burn as if we were 
 savages on the steppes." 
 
 " Let us go on," exclaimed Faulconbridge, urging 
 him forward. The futility of this mad enterprise of 
 revolution had so unnerved him that his energy had 
 almost evaporated. He felt limp and overwhelmed. 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor in his deep voice, " let us 
 go on. We must learn the fate of others. ..." 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 299 
 
 Once more they resumed their progress. Now they 
 had reached the neighbourhood of the great barracks 
 near the Kremlin, and along the open spaces they saw 
 the flare of torches dancing like will-o'-the-wisps in 
 the black night. In spite of the sudden destruction 
 of the lighting of the town, in spite of the general 
 confusion, the army was slowly but methodically, 
 clumsily but carefully, carrying out some set plan. 
 Moscow would awake to find a state of siege complete 
 and real. 
 
 Some torches, set on the ends of poles, flickered 
 near. They shed a ghoulish light, in which the dark 
 shadows cast by a squad of motionless soldiery danced 
 like demons. 
 
 " Here we are — at the entrance to the square," 
 whispered the doctor. " Are you prepared to risk it ? 
 We must dash along in the open now and they may 
 fire." 
 
 " Yes, yes," assented Faulconbridge ; "I will 
 lead." 
 
 Bracing himself anew, he had commenced running 
 almost before he was aware of it. The action seemed 
 oddly familiar to him, and now he remembered with 
 strange feelings that less than a week before he had 
 done much the same thing. 
 
 But there was scant time for thought : already loud 
 shouts rang in his ears. 
 
 " Quick," he exclaimed, looking back over his 
 shoulder at the doctor, and going on still faster himself. 
 
 But the shouts had redoubled, and there was a 
 sound of heavy feet. He saw shadows ahead — in a 
 moment his passage would be cut off. 
 
 With a muttered oath, he half stopped, looked 
 back for the doctor, whom he could no longer see, and 
 
300 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 then swerved away to the right. It was every man for 
 himself with a vengeance. 
 
 " Stoi, Stoi," called the rough voices, and his 
 running feet gave back a contemptuous answer. Then 
 flames of fire spat at him, and the jarring bark of the 
 rifles was in his ears. 
 
 Instinctively he bent lower as he heard the nickle- 
 headed bullets hiss about him. His breath was coming 
 shorter now, but his strength was intact. 
 
 He ran on — wondering what was happening — 
 wondering that he should come through it all un- 
 scathed. His mind, occupied with the problem of his 
 own safety, no longer troubled about his companion. 
 He ran on and on and on. Then, with an odd shock 
 of surprise, he realized that he had reached the hotel, 
 and was stumbling against the great tubs of palms 
 which lined the pavement. ... He paused and took 
 breath. 
 
 There was some light in the hotel — candle-light, 
 it seemed to him. How strange it was to get back 
 to a fashionable place after such experiences ; strange 
 but yet natural. . . . His heart thumped tumul- 
 tously both from his running and from the thought 
 that at last the problem which had so long troubled 
 him must be solved. He was glad that the end had 
 come — it was not possible to endure such suspense in- 
 definitely. . . . 
 
 He kept his wits, though his thoughts were so 
 rebellious. He knew that his own safety was gravely 
 compromised, and that he must be circumspect. He 
 wondered at the quiet in the hotel. He could not 
 believe that everyone had fled here — yet the silence 
 within the building was pregnant with meaning. In 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 301 
 
 growing perplexity — not daring yet to go in — he 
 turned and looked back. 
 
 The immense square in front of him gave no answer 
 to the mystery. It lay quite silent too. The points 
 of light, marking where the torches were stuck in the 
 ground, seemed very far off — miles away. The 
 pickets, who had fired at him, might have been dead 
 for all the signs of life they now gave. They were 
 posted there, waiting blindly for what the night might 
 bring them, obeying orders. 
 
 Faulconbridge, baffled at every turn, slowly and 
 cautiously approached the hotel entrance. 
 
 He became aware of a tall figure of a man moving 
 cautiously in the dim candle-light of the interior. The 
 figure moved out toward the door, and seeing him 
 came to an abrupt halt. 
 
 '* Ho, there," called Faulconbridge briskly. 
 
 He had recognized the hotel-porter in spite of the 
 metamorphosis. The man had doffed his gorgeous 
 uniform and his magnificent cap, and was now clad in 
 the loose blue shirt, the black trousers, and the high 
 top-boots of the proletariat. 
 
 " Who is that ? " replied the man suspiciously in 
 English. He did not approach. His whole attitude 
 was strictly defensive. 
 
 Faulconbridge explained : 
 
 " If you haven't forgotten your numbers in the 
 excitement of the evening, mine may mean something 
 to you — I am 316, Faulconbridge by name, an English- 
 man ; do you remember ? " 
 
 The porter had approached nearer. 
 
 " What are you doing out there ? " 
 
 " I have been engaged in the difficult work of coming 
 in." 
 
302 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " Where have you been ? " 
 
 " At the theatre. Do you remember your recom- 
 mendation ? " 
 
 " Ah — yes, I remember." 
 
 The porter stood sunk in thought. It was plain that 
 something prevented him from being communicative. 
 Manifestly he was very much on his guard — alarmed — 
 suspicious of everything. 
 
 " Did you hear those shots? " he began cautiously 
 again. 
 
 Faulconbridge smiled grimly. 
 
 " Yes, since they were fired at me. . . ." 
 
 " At you ? Then you had luck. There were some 
 others, half an hour ago. And after them no one 
 arrived." He slowly wagged his head and folded his 
 arms, as if that action rounded off his meaning better 
 than any words. " There is danger everywhere out of 
 your own room — it is best to be hidden until the storm 
 is over," he said abruptly. 
 
 "lam waiting for the gentleman called the Malny 
 doctor," replied Faulconbridge doggedly. " I shall 
 wait here until I know there is no further use in 
 waiting — as happened half an hour ago." 
 
 " The doctor ; you have been with the Malny 
 doctor? " stammered the porter in amazement. " It 
 is incredible — incredible." 
 
 He peered anxiously into the gloom, wondering 
 what new miracle was to come on this night of im- 
 possibilities — wondering what it all meant. Still 
 suspicious, still fearing this stranger, he did not dare 
 to do more than to exclaim. For the Malny doctor 
 was badly wanted — both by his friends and his enemies, 
 but most of all he had been wanted all the long evening 
 by his friends who had failed to give him warning. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 303 
 
 " Yes/' resumed Faulconbridge, still casting about 
 for some means to bring up the topic uppermost in his 
 mind, " we were in the theatre together less than an 
 hour ago. A bomb exploded — I do not even know 
 where or how — there was horrible confusion — we 
 managed to break through. As far as this square we 
 kept close together, but when they fired we parted 
 company and ran for our lives." 
 
 " It is a black, bad night," muttered the porter, who 
 had listened to him in the same peculiar awestruck 
 way, " and daylight will not be here for many hours." 
 He paused and rubbed his chin doubtfully. " At any 
 other time I would risk it and go out into the square 
 and search for him. But what is the use now ? If 
 they have got him it is settled. ..." He turned 
 suddenly and slipped a hand under his tunic. His 
 quick ears had caught a sound. " Hist — what is 
 that ? " 
 
 There was dead silence. Then the deep voice 
 Faulconbridge would have recognized among a thou- 
 sand others began laughing gently. It was his lost 
 friend coming out of the shadows slowly and cautiously. 
 
 " Ha, ha, my friend," he chuckled, " I am not lost 
 yet, as you see ! But they made me go a long way 
 round ; a long way round, for I am not fleet of foot." 
 He began mopping his forehead and the back of his 
 neck, and then he saw the porter. " Get me something 
 to drink, Petroff, for the love of God. Yet stay — first 
 tell me what has happened here." 
 
 Faulconbridge followed the two indoors — hardly 
 able to restrain himself. He had told the doctor 
 enough for him to guess the rest. 
 
 Already the doctor was deep in a whispered con- 
 versation with the porter. What the porter was 
 
304 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 telling him was evidently filling him with surprise, for 
 he emitted a soft whistle from time to time, and kept 
 on nodding his head. 
 
 At length the porter had finished, and the doctor 
 turned. 
 
 " I can understand nothing," he said to Faulcon- 
 bridge in a low voice ; " our young friend is not in the 
 hotel, is not in her room — he has sent up several times 
 — he swears that she has not gone out. The porter is 
 quite reliable — he is entirely in our hands. They have 
 been watching the doors very closely for days, and up 
 to the time of the alarm she did not pass out. Of course, 
 she may have hidden and waited until the uproar was 
 over — there were some arrests by the police before 
 the agents left the hotel. I do not know what to do — 
 I cannot suggest a plan." 
 
 He stood there pondering deeply, his chin sunk on 
 his chest ; and beside him the tall polyglot porter, in 
 his peasant's boots, watched and waited. 
 
 A door in some far-away part of the building slammed 
 suddenly, and everyone started. Faulconbridge was 
 unable to contain himself any longer. 
 
 " How many people are there in the hotel ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 Instantly the porter became more business-like. 
 
 " Not more than fifty, perhaps less. Scores left this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Have you a corrected list of engaged rooms ? " 
 
 " Yes." The man drew a sheet of paper from his 
 tunic. 
 
 " The distribution is by floors," said Faulconbridge, 
 studying it. He knew exactly what he was going to 
 do, but he was determined to conceal it. 
 
 The porter nodded. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 305 
 
 " Well, there is only one thing to do, search all the 
 rooms for this young lady." 
 
 "It is impossible/' objected the porter ; " you will 
 find nothing but locked doors : you will get nothing 
 but oaths and shrieks for your trouble." 
 
 " That is of no importance to us," said Faulcon- 
 bridge ; " we are going to search the hotel. We will 
 begin with the first floor and we will end with the 
 attics. Are you agreed, doctor ? " 
 
 The doctor looked up grimly : he saw what he was 
 driving at. 
 
 " We will begin with the first floor and end with the 
 attics," he repeated. 
 
 Now, without another word, they marched upstairs. 
 
 20 
 
XXVIII 
 
 FUNEREAL silence reigned on the first 
 
 A floor — the silence of a death-like respect- 
 ability encased in overmuch plush and gilt. 
 Every window was tight shut ; the air felt close and 
 heavy ; and now the solitary light of the porter's 
 lantern, as it flickered forward, seemed to their ex- 
 cited minds to be showing them into another and more 
 ominous world than the vague terror in the streets 
 below. 
 
 Before they had taken many steps Faulconbridge 
 and the doctor came to a standstill — for no reason that 
 they could find. They came to a standstill, we say, 
 and looking back they saw that the porter as he 
 walked along had begun attentively studying his list. 
 A strange look was on his face, and every now and 
 again he murmured something unintelligible to himself. 
 
 " Well ? " said Faulconbridge interrogatively, gazing 
 in growing astonishment at the man. His behaviour 
 had been curious from the beginning : now it was 
 something more than odd. 
 
 The porter cleared his throat as if he were making 
 a great effort. 
 
 " There is nobody on this wing of the first floor — 
 from numbers i to 10 are specially retained. Let 
 us pass to the right wing without loss of time." 
 
 And having said that abruptly he made as if he 
 would go on. 
 
 306 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 307 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Faulconbridge, quite uncon- 
 vinced, laying hold of his arm ; " I want to understand 
 better about the left wing before we go to the right. 
 I want to understand why we are omitting the left 
 wing. The plan we decided upon was to search the 
 hotel floor by floor. I do not propose to change it." 
 
 " That is good sense, that is good sense," agreed 
 the doctor rather irritably ; "I think this gentleman 
 is quite right. Why should we omit the left wing 
 when it may be that very wing which will prove the 
 interesting one to us ? " 
 
 The doctor looked at the porter, and the porter 
 looked meaningly at the doctor, who had suddenly 
 become so obtuse. Then, because the doctor refused 
 to understand his glances, the porter commenced 
 shrugging his shoulders in the expressive Russian way. 
 The doctor quite understood his reasons for avoiding 
 the wing ; but he did not understand the porter's 
 sudden silence. 
 
 " Well, since everybody more or less knows it," 
 began the porter unexpectedly, " there is no harm in 
 saying it aloud to-night. The Grand-Duke " 
 
 "The Grand-Duke?" interrupted Faulconbridge 
 sharply at the very mention of his name. " The 
 Grand-Duke — those are the Grand-Duke's rooms ? ' 
 He made as if he would hasten forward, but now 
 the doctor seized him by the arm and forcibly 
 restrained him. 
 
 " Mr. Faulconbridge," he remarked a little hesi- 
 tatingly, at last coming to the porter's aid in obedience 
 to an imperceptible nod, " there may be guards in the 
 room. Have you thought of that ? " 
 
 "Well?" For the first time fear clutched at his 
 heart-strings. 
 
308 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 " That would mean trouble." 
 
 " I say well again ? " As he spoke an ominous chill 
 overwhelmed him. 
 
 " We do not want to run our heads into stone walls — 
 on a night like this. . . . Our intrusion may have most 
 serious consequences. We must be reasonable." 
 
 " I am going to those rooms at once — without a 
 moment's delay," replied Faulconbridge. He shook 
 off the doctor's hand angrily. Yet he paused — fearing 
 that a false step on his part might delay the final 
 solution. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," said the porter, again interven- 
 ing in a very remarkable manner because the 
 doctor's help had been unavailing. " That is not the 
 whole reason why we should not enter the Grand- 
 Duke's rooms. There is something else which pre- 
 vents it — which makes it superfluous." 
 
 Faulconbridge gave a sharp start as if he had been 
 stabbed. 
 
 " I do not understand you," he said slowly. 
 
 Now the porter looked round nervously as if he 
 had become apprehensive of the very shadows, and 
 beckoned him nearer. 
 
 " Hush, hush," he said ; " I will tell you, since 
 nothing else will stop you — the Grand-Duke is dead — 
 massacred — and I shall be made to pay bitterly for 
 this by the Palace Okhrana." 
 
 Almost before he had finished the doctor had taken 
 him by the arms and was shaking him wildly. Ex- 
 citement blazed from his eyes — his whole body had 
 stiffened. He was another man — the Malny madman. 
 Now the words raced from his mouth : 
 
 "He is dead — and this is the first I hear of it ! 
 He is dead, and you did not inform me the moment 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 309 
 
 you saw me ! He is dead, and you stand there like 
 that ! Fool — do you know how much this means ? ' 
 
 The porter was unabashed. 
 
 " I did not tell you," he said doggedly, " because 
 the news came to me privately— my little son brought 
 it to me. It is concealed — it is a dead secret. It was 
 at nine o'clock on the Petrowka — a bomb blew him 
 and his carriage to pieces. The Grand-Duke was not 
 in uniform, he was coming back here. . . . That is 
 all I know." 
 
 The doctor had fallen into another of his strange 
 brown studies even before the man had finished. His 
 massive head was now almost resting on his long, 
 awkward arms, which he had crossed in a peculiar 
 mannerism high on his chest. He was plunged so 
 deeply in thought that he had lost all count of his 
 whereabouts. There was something so arresting in his 
 attitude that Faulconbridge, torn by thoughts which 
 seemed both possible and impossible, dared not break 
 the silence, or go on. Something more tragic than 
 mere surprise lay at the bottom of the doctor's de- 
 meanour. 
 
 Presently the doctor raised his head and gave a 
 deep sigh. 
 
 "Ah, my friend," he said mournfully, fixing his 
 strange eyes on Faulconbridge, " we Russians can 
 never be great, can never succeed so long as we do not 
 understand co-operation, loyalty, sanity, in the way 
 that you English do. With us it is every man for him- 
 self and the devil take the hindmost. How many illus- 
 trations of that have I not received in my life ! We 
 still believe that the spirit can do in five minutes what 
 system cannot do in five centuries ! We are mad, 
 utterly mad. Mr. Faulconbridge, I cannot explain 
 
310 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 it all to you. I can only say that this unhappy con- 
 spirator who has blown another to pieces, has made 
 our success once again impossible, by acting too soon. 
 The tragedy of too soon ! More mournful, more sinister 
 than the words too late are these two words, always 
 found in the lexicon of fools. Let us go on — let us go 
 on — we will at least carry out our plan, though it is 
 useless now." 
 
 With a sudden movement the party advanced again. 
 This time they entered the first of the long corridors 
 which swept round the immense building. 
 
 The porter inserted his pass-key into the lock of 
 the first room and turned vainly again and again. 
 
 " Bolted," he said laconically. 
 
 He walked on to the next room. He walked more 
 quickly this time, as if he wanted to finish with the 
 farce. It would be the same with the whole series of 
 ten rooms, he was sure. Once more he inserted his 
 pass-key. He twisted and turned it with the same ill- 
 success. 
 
 " Bolted," he said again, moving on. 
 
 " There are eight more doors," said the doctor 
 mournfully ; " you have time to get tired." 
 
 The porter bent down to the third lock with the air 
 of a man who is disgusted by a stupid performance. 
 He gripped the handle, and turned it with his lips 
 parted as if ready to speak the same word. But sud- 
 denly his whole attitude changed — he had stiffened 
 as a dog who scents quarry. 
 
 " Ah," he exclaimed in a suppressed voice. He 
 turned and motioned for strict silence. Very cau- 
 tiously the porter pushed the door wide open. Behind 
 him the other two peered in. In the room was silence 
 and formlessness. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 311 
 
 " Let me go forward with the lantern," muttered 
 the doctor in his hoarse whisper. " You, Mr. Faulcon- 
 bridge, be ready to protect me." But even as he 
 swung the light aloft he gave a curious guttural ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 " On the ground — a man — motionless." 
 
 With one accord they rushed in. It was the cus- 
 todian whom the man Ivan had stabbed to death in 
 his terrible duel. 
 
 The doctor had dropped to his knees and his hands 
 had commenced their customary office. But almost 
 at once he desisted. 
 
 "It is no use," he murmured, with a wistful shrug 
 of his shoulders. "He is dead — quite dead. And 
 yet it has not been more than an hour since he died ; 
 perhaps not so long. ... He is warm — almost hot. . . . 
 What does this mean — what does this mean ? . . ." 
 
 He tiptoed across the room as if in the presence of 
 death it would be unseemly to tread more heavily. With 
 a significant look on his face he pointed to the writing- 
 table, to the tumbled dispatch-boxes, to an overturned 
 chair. 
 
 "It is quite plain," he began — but what he was 
 about to say was for ever lost in the cry of amazement 
 which had burst from the porter. He had picked 
 up a knife, a long, blood-stained knife. 
 
 " Murder," he exclaimed, " or else " 
 
 He did not finish, but stared blankly at the doctor 
 and the Englishman. They had broken from him 
 as he spoke, and were now madly trying the doors. 
 Both had reached the same conclusion. To their 
 excited eyes the vast reception-room seemed to have 
 nothing but doors — locked doors — doors which led 
 nowhere. Yet it could not be so — there must be one 
 
312 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 which would give up the secret. It was Faulconbridge 
 who found the right one. 
 
 " Here, the light here," he called, and even as he 
 called there was the murmur of other voices. 
 
 " Sasha," he exclaimed, and then he picked out 
 the form of the white-bearded man beside her. 
 
 Yes — it was they. 
 
 They were sitting on the ground side by side behind 
 a screen, which had been somehow thrown down in 
 their struggles to hide themselves. The old man's 
 head had fallen on the girl's shoulders ; his eyes were 
 closed ; his great booted feet were stretched stiffly out 
 as if he were past hope ; his arms collapsed beside him. 
 In the dim, religious light shed by the porter's lantern, 
 the scene became a painting by Rembrandt. 
 
 " Doctor, doctor, is it you — is it you ? " cried the 
 girl in a broken voice, struggling to her knees. " Your 
 services are badly required by this heroic man." 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered the doctor, quickly kneeling 
 beside him, and lifting his head and speaking to him 
 gently. 
 
 The old man groaned and pointed to his side. 
 
 " It is the will of God," he whispered feebly. 
 
 Now for the first time they saw the dark marks on 
 her torn dress and the steel on her wrists and the 
 anguish in her eyes. 
 
 "Oh, what is this — oh, what is this ? ' cried Faul- 
 conbridge, supporting her and trying vainly to liberate 
 her hands, and running his ringers across the rents in 
 her dress where the dark stains were. 
 
 Then the porter, who perhaps had been a turn- 
 key once, came to his aid ; and bending down, soon 
 had unlocked the light steel gyves. As she felt her 
 hands at last free, Sasha gave a broken cry. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 313 
 
 " Free again, free again. I am only cut a little, not 
 really wounded/' she repeated again and again in a 
 strange whisper to Faulconbridge. " I knew it could 
 not be true that I would be abandoned. There were 
 many to look for me, and when all failed there was 
 still you." 
 
 u Yes — there was me," he answered gently, still 
 trying to see if what she said were true and her wounds 
 not grave. " You told me in that first song that it 
 would be so ; that I would come to you — and now I 
 have come." 
 
 She was half crying, half laughing now. 
 
 " But you refused me, you did not want me, you 
 drove me away." 
 
 " No, no," he answered, holding her close. " That 
 is all past, and now we must learn to forget." 
 
 " We must learn to forget," she whispered back. 
 Then time and words disappeared for them, and they 
 only knew the sweetness of their rewakening. 
 
 At last, behind them, the doctor spoke. 
 
 " We have finished ; all has been done for this poor 
 man that is possible. We must find a means of retreat- 
 ing the moment we can. This chapter is endmg 
 horribly. Look." 
 
 He had approached the window where they two 
 were standing, their hands clasped, their hearts en- 
 twined ; but at them the doctor did not look. Instead, 
 he flung aside the curtains and threw the window 
 back. 
 
 A vague, indefinite murmur was wafted into the 
 room — a murmur punctured by dull reports and bursts 
 of rattling musketry. It was the distant roar and con- 
 fusion of mobs hurried by soldiery. From this eleva- 
 tion the red glow on the skyline seemed to have drawn 
 
314 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 nearer — it shed an angry, sinister light which op- 
 pressed the hearts of these onlookers with the oppres- 
 sion of disaster. Neither Sasha nor Faulconbridge 
 spoke. 
 
 " The people have risen," murmured the doctor, as 
 if to himself. " They have risen and commenced 
 fighting like wild, savage beasts. We cannot possibly 
 reach them ; an iron ring already surrounds them — 
 ah, God, that it should have come too soon ! Some- 
 body has blundered, but they are doing their best — 
 their best, which is their worst — and some are paying 
 the last price." 
 
 It was true — some were paying their last price 
 there in the distance, in the darkness ; Gavrilloff, the 
 spy, among others. 
 
 Could they have seen what was even then occurring, 
 pity and terror would have claimed them. The crowd 
 had discovered him and caught him as he was running 
 away — after he had ferreted and denounced up to the 
 very last moment. They had discovered him, and, 
 like a wretched cornered rat, he had frantically fought, 
 only to be worsted. They had carried him from the 
 room into which he had rushed — in a last mad attempt 
 to flee — to a window, so that the crowd might see him 
 and rejoice at the vengeance which was being wreaked. 
 
 He had stood there dazed at first — unable to under- 
 stand what the sea of faces below him in the street 
 meant, unable to grasp the meaning of this tragedy 
 in which he was the central figure. 
 
 Then, as the darkness of the night was dispelled, 
 all the faces converged towards him into one single 
 great face, with a fearful questioning expression, sum- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 315 
 
 moning him to deliver up his secrets. In those hundreds 
 of eyes he saw the glow of an unquenchable lire — a fire 
 which would consume him. His life, in its loneliness 
 and under the band of terror which hemmed him 
 round, had been one long, silent tragedy. It was to 
 have a noisy ending. 
 
 He had shrieked once and then remained as if 
 frozen. His eyes had sunk deep into their sockets as 
 though they were vainly seeking to retreat into hiding 
 from this hideous scene. His mouth opened now only 
 to shout soundless cries which yet echoed with the 
 noise of thunder in his soul — he clenched his fists to 
 strangle the invisible devils who had come to join the 
 devils in front of him. The ugly clothing of the bour- 
 geoisie of Europe — the hideous tic round the ill- 
 fitting collar — made a detestable setting for his frozen 
 state — one would have liked to tear his soiled and 
 ugly clothing from him so that at least he might die 
 naked and unshamed. 
 
 The crowd howled louder and louder : 
 
 " Death to him — let us trample upon him, kill him 
 with our hands. Death to the spy — Gavrilloff." 
 
 The cries went up to heaven — savagely, lustfully, 
 like to midnight roaring of wild animals gathered 
 together in the depths of some impenetrable forest 
 to celebrate a saturnalia of meat -eating. There was 
 no pity in those voices — it was the hoarse blaring of a 
 powerful animalism rejoicing in animal actions. 
 
 Gavrilloff was as good as dead — the act of killing 
 had become a mere trivial detail. He never moved 
 again, just as he never spoke again. 
 
 Suddenly it was over. Somebody fired a shot from 
 an automatic pistol, which struck him straight in the 
 heart— closely followed by another, and yet another. 
 
316 THE ROMANCE OF A FEW DAYS 
 
 Then he pitched forward, and was instantly blotted 
 out under the savage feet of the savage crowd. 
 
 A thousand miles away a man with a blond beard 
 and a dreamer's face — a face still pale from pain and 
 sickness — sat poring over newspapers, seeking to learn 
 whether any hint of the great and glorious struggle 
 which was coming had crept abroad. At last, com- 
 forted by the absence of all news, gently he had fallen 
 asleep, dreaming in his poor heart that the struggle 
 which was already lost must soon fill the world with 
 amazement and glory. 
 
 WILLIAM BKENDON AND SON LTD. 
 PRINTERS. PLYMOUTH 
 
A SELECTION OF BOOKS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY METHUEN 
 
 AND CO. LTD., LONDON 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET 
 
 W.C. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 General Literature ... . 2 
 
 Ancient Cities .... 13 
 
 Antiquary's Books ... 13 
 
 Arden Shakespeare ... 14 
 
 Classics of Art ... 14 
 
 'Complete' Series ... 15 
 
 Connoisseur's Library . . 15 
 
 Handbooks of English Church 
 
 History 10 
 
 Handbooks of Theology . . 16 
 
 ' Home Life ' Series ... 16 
 
 Illustrated Pocket Library of 
 
 Fiain and Coloured Books . 16 
 
 Leaders of Religion 
 
 Library of Devotion . . 17 
 
 Little Books on Art 
 
 Little Galleries 
 
 Little Guides 
 
 Little Library .... 19 
 
 Little Quarto Shakespeare 
 
 Miniature Library . 
 
 New Library of Medicine 
 
 New Library of Music . 
 
 Oxford Biographies . 
 
 Four Plays. 
 
 States of Italy . 
 
 Westminster Commentaries 
 
 'Young' Series . 
 
 Shilling Library 
 Books for Travellers . 
 Some Books on Art . 
 Some Books on Italy . 
 Fiction 
 
 Two- Shilling Novels 
 
 Books for Boys and Girls 
 
 Shilling Novels . 
 
 Sevenpenny Novels . 
 
 22 
 
 23 
 23 
 24 
 25 
 3^ 
 30 
 31 
 3 1 
 
 July 191 
 
A SELECTION OF 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's 
 
 PUBLICATIONS 
 
 In this Catalogue the order is according to authors. An asterisk denotes 
 that the book is in the press. 
 
 Colonial Editions are published of all Messrs. Methuen's Novels issued 
 at a price above 2s. id., and similar editions are published of some works of 
 General Literature. Colonial Editions are only for circulation in the British 
 Colonies and India. 
 
 All books marked net are not subject to discount, and cannot be bought 
 at less than the published price. Books not marked net are subject to the 
 discount which the bookseller allows. 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's books are kept in stock by all good booksellers. If 
 there is any difficulty in seeing copies, Messrs. Methuen will be very glad to 
 have early information, and specimen copies of any books will be sent on 
 receipt of the published price plus postage for net books, and of the published 
 price for ordinary books. 
 
 This Catalogue contains only a selection ot the more important books 
 published by Messrs. Methuen. A complete and illustrated catalogue of their 
 publications may be obtained on application. 
 
 Andrewes (Lancelot). PRECES PRI- 
 VATAE. Translated and edited, with 
 Notes, by F. E. Brightman. Cr. Zvo. is. 
 
 Aristotle. THE ETHICS. Edited, with 
 an Introduction and Notes, by John 
 Burnet. Demy Zvo. 10s. id. net. 
 
 Atkinson (C. T.). A HISTORY OF GER 
 MANY, 1715-1815. Demy Zvo. 12s. td. net 
 
 Atkinson (T. D.). ENGLISH ARCHI 
 
 TECTURE. Illustrated. Third Edition 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. 3s. td. net. 
 A GLOSSARY OF TERMS USED IN 
 
 ENGLISH ARCHITECTURE. Illus 
 
 trated. Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 3s. td. 
 
 net. 
 ENGLISH AND WELSH CATHE 
 
 DRALS. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. \os. td. 
 
 net. 
 
 Bain(F. W.). A DIGIT OF THE MOON 
 
 A Hindoo Love Story. Tenth Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. js. td. net. 
 THE DESCENT OF THE SUN : A Cycle 
 
 of Birth. Fifth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 
 3s. td. net. 
 A HEIFER OF THE DAWN. Seventh 
 
 Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 2s. id. net. 
 
 IN THE GREAT GOD'S HAIR. Fifth 
 
 Edition, fcap. Zvo. 2s. id. net. 
 A DRAUGHT OF THE BLUE. Fifth 
 
 Edition Fcap. &tx?. 2s. td. net. 
 AN ESSENCE OF THE DUSK. Third 
 
 Edition. Fcap. Zvo. xs. td. net. 
 AN INCARNATION OF THE SNOW. 
 
 Third Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 3 J. id. net. 
 A MINE OF FAULTS. Second Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. 3s. td. net. 
 THE ASHES OF A GOD. Second Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. 3s. td. net. 
 BUBBLES OF THE FOAM. Fcap. 4I0. 
 
 $s. net. Also Fcap. Zvo. 3 J. id. net. 
 
 Balfour (Graham). THE LIFE OF 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Illus- 
 trated. Eleventh Edition. In one Volume. 
 Cr. Zvo. Buckram, is. Also Fcap. Zvo. 
 is. net. 
 
 Baring (Hon. Maurice). A YEAR IN 
 RUSSIA. Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 10s. id. net. 
 
 LANDMARKS IN RUSSIAN LITERA- 
 TURE. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. ts.net. 
 
 RUSSIAN ESSAYS AND STORIES. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. s s - n ?t- 
 
 THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE. Demy Zvo. 
 155. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 Baring-Gould (S.). THE LIFE OF 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. Illustrated. 
 
 Second Edition. Royal Zvo. ios. 6d. net. 
 THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAESARS: 
 
 A Study of the Characters of the 
 
 Cesars of the Julian and Claudian 
 
 Houses- Illustrated. Seventh Edition. 
 
 Royal "boo. iar. 6d. net. 
 THE VICAR CF MORVv'ENSTOW. With 
 
 a Portrait. Third Edition. Cr.Zvo. $s.6d. 
 
 Also Fcap. Zvo. is. net. 
 OLD COUNTRY LIFE. Illustrated. Fifth 
 
 Edition. Large Cr. Zvo. 6s. Also /cap. 
 
 Zvo. is. net. 
 A BOOK OF CORNWALL. Illustrated. 
 
 Third Edition. Cr. Ivo. 6s. 
 A BOOK OF DARTMOOR. Illustrated. 
 
 Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 A BOOK OF DEVON. Illustrated. Third 
 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Baring-Could (S.) and Sheppard (H. Fleet- 
 wood). A GARLAND OF COUNTRY 
 SONG. English Folk Songs with their 
 Traditional Melodies. Demy $to. 6s. 
 
 SONGS OF THE WEST. Folk Songs of 
 Devon and Cornwall. Collected from the 
 Mouths of the People. New and Revised 
 Edition, under the musical editorship of 
 Cecil J. Sharp. Large Imperial Zvo. 
 $s. net. 
 
 Barker (E.). THE POLITICAL 
 THOUGHT OF PLATO AND ARIS- 
 TOTLE. Demy Ivo. iar. 6d. net. 
 
 Bastable (C. F.). THE COMMERCE OF 
 NATIONS. Sixth Edition. Cr. Ivo. 
 
 2S. 6d. 
 
 Beckford (Peter). THOUGHTS ON 
 HUNTING. Edited by J. Otko Paget. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Demy Ivo. 6s. 
 
 Belloc (H.). PARIS. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 HILLS AND THE SEA. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. is. 
 ON NOTHING AND KINDRED SUB- 
 JECTS. Third Edition. Fcap. Zvo. $s. 
 ON EVERYTHING. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 
 Zvo. is. 
 ON SOMETHING. Second Edition. Fcap. 
 
 Zvo. >r. 
 FIRST AND LAST. Second Edition. 
 
 Fcap. Zvo. 5s 
 THIS AND THAT AND THE OTHER. 
 
 Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. $s. 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Illustrated. 
 
 Third Edition. Demy Zvo. 15J. net. 
 THE PYRENEES. Illustrated. Second 
 
 Edition. Demy Zvo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Bennett (W. H.). A PRIMER OF THE 
 BIBLE. Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. is. id. 
 
 Bennett (W. H.) and Adeney (W. F.). a 
 BIBLICAL INTRODUCTION. With a 
 concise Bibliography. Sixth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. -js. 6d. Also in Tioo Volumes. Cr. 
 Zvo. Each $s. 6d. net. 
 
 Benson (Archbishop). GOD'S BOARD. 
 Communion Addresses. Second Edition. 
 Fcap. Zvo. y. 6d. net. 
 
 ♦Bsrriman (Algernon E.). AVIATION. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. $s. net. 
 
 Bicknell (Ethel E.). PARIS AND HER 
 TREASURES. Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. 
 Round corners. $s. net. 
 
 Blake (William). ILLUSTRATIONS OF 
 THE BOOK OF JOB. With a General 
 Introduction by Laurence Binvon. Illus- 
 trated. Quarto. 21s. net. 
 
 Bloemfontein (Bishop of). ARA CCELI : 
 An Essay in Mystical Theology. 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. vs. 6d. net. 
 
 FAITH AND EXPERIENCE. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. y. 6d. net. 
 
 Bowden (E. M.). THE IMITATION OF 
 BUDDHA. Quotations from Buddhist 
 Literature for each Day in the Year. Sixth 
 Edition. Cr. i6mo. 2s. id. 
 
 Brabant (F. G.). RAMBLES IN SUSSEX. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Bradley (k. G.). ROUND AEOUT WILT- 
 SHIRE. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. dr. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF NORTHUMBER- 
 LAND. Illustrated. Third Edition. Demy 
 Zvo. -js. 6d. net. 
 
 Braid (James). ADVANCED GOLF. 
 Illustrated. Seventh Edition. Demy Ivo. 
 1 as. 6d. net. 
 
 Brodrick (Mary) and Morton (A. Ander- 
 son). A CONCISE DICTIONARY OF 
 EGYPTIAN ARCHAEOLOGY. A Hand- 
 book for Students and Travellers. Illus- 
 trated. Cr. Zvo. 3.9. 6d. 
 
 Browning (Robert). PARACELSUS. 
 Edited with an Introduction, Notes, and 
 Bibliography by Margaret L. Lee and 
 Katharine B. Locock. Fcap. Zvo. y. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Buckton (A. M.). EAGER HEART: A 
 Christmas Mystery-Play. Eievemh Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. is. net. 
 
 Bull (Paul). GOD AND OUR SOLDIERS. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Burns (Robert). THE POEMS AND 
 SONGS. Edited by Andrew Lang and 
 W. A. Craigie. With Portrait. Third 
 ion. Wide Dewy Zvo. 6s. 
 
Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Caiman (W. T.). THE LIFE OF 
 CRUSTACEA- Illustrated. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Carlyle (Thomas). THE FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION. Edited by C. R. L. 
 Flktchbe. Three Volumes. Cr. Svo. iSs. 
 
 THE LETTERS AND SPEECHES OF 
 OLIVER CROMWELL. With an In- 
 troduction by C. H. Firth, and Notes 
 and Appendices by S. C. Lomas. Three 
 Volumes. Demy Svo. iSs. net. 
 
 Celano (Brother Thomas of). THE LIVES 
 OF S. FRANCIS OF ASSISI. Trans- 
 lated by A. G. Ferrers Howell. With 
 a Frontispiece. Cr. Svo. 5s. net. 
 
 Chambers (Mrs. Lambert). LAWN 
 
 TENNIS FOR LADIES. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Svo. as. 6d. net. 
 
 Chesser (Elizabeth Sloan). PERFECT 
 HEALTH FOR WOMEN AND CHIL- 
 DREN. Cr. Svo. 3s. td. net. 
 
 Chesterfield (Lord). THE LETTERS OF 
 THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD TO 
 HIS SON. Edited, with an Introduction by 
 C. Strachey, and Notes by A. CALTHRor. 
 Two Volumes. Cr. Svo. \as. 
 
 Chesterton (G. K.). CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 With two Portraits in Photogravure. Eighth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. Seventh 
 
 Edition. Fcap. Svo. 5J. 
 TREMENDOUS TRIFLES. Fifth Edi- 
 tion. Fcap. Svo. $s. 
 ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS. Second 
 
 Edition. Fcap. Svo. 5s. 
 THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Fcap. Svo. $s. 
 A MISCELLANY OF MEN. Second 
 
 Edition. Fcap. Svo. 5*. 
 
 Clausen (George). SIX LECTURES ON 
 PAINTING. Illustrated. Third Edition. 
 Large Post Svo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 AIMS AND IDEALS IN ART. Eight 
 Lectures delivered to the Students of the 
 Royal Academy of Arts. Illustrated. Second 
 Edition. Large Post Svo. 5s. net. 
 
 Glutton -Brock (A.). SHELLEY: THE 
 MAN AND THE POET. Illustrated. 
 Demy Svo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Cobb (W. F.). THE BOOK OF PSALMS. 
 With an Introduction and Notes. Demy Svo. 
 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Conrad (Joseph). THE MIRROR OF 
 THE SEA : Memories and Impressions. 
 Fourth Edition. 1 cap. Svo. $s. 
 
 Coolidge (W. A. B.). THE ALPS: IN 
 NATURE AND HISTORY. Illustrated. 
 Demy Svo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Corravon (H.). ALPINE FLORA. Trajis- 
 lated and enlarged by E. W. Clayforth. 
 Illustrated. Square Demy Sve. 16s. net. 
 
 Coulton (G. G.). CHAUCER AND HIS 
 ENGLAND. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Demy Svo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Cowper (William). THE POEMS. 
 Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by 
 J. C. Bailey. Illustrated. Demy Svo. 
 1 of. 6d. net. 
 
 Cox (J. C). RAMBLES IN SURREY. 
 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 RAMBLES IN KENT. Illustrated. Cr. 
 
 Svo. 6s. 
 
 Crowley (H. Ralph). THE HYGIENE 
 OF SCHOOL LIFE. Illustrated. Cr. 
 Svo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Davis (H. VY. C). ENGLAND UNDER 
 THE NORMANS AND ANGEVINS: 
 1066- 1 272. Third Edition. Demy Svo. 
 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Dawbarn (Charles). FRANCE AND 
 THE FRENCH. Illustrated. Demy Svo. 
 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Dearmer (Mabel). A CHILD'S LIFE OF 
 CHRIST. Illustrated. Large Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Deffand (Madame du). LETTRES DE 
 LA MARQUISE DU DEFFAND A 
 HORACE WALPOLE. Edited, with In- 
 troduction, Notes, and Index, by Mrs. 
 Paget Toynbee. In Three Volumes. 
 Demy Svo. £1 3s. net. 
 
 Dickinson (G. L.). THE GREEK VIEW 
 OF LIFE. Eighth Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 is. 6d. net. 
 
 Ditchfield (P. H.). THE PARISH 
 
 CLERK. Fcap. Svo. is.net. 
 THE OLD-TIME PARSON. Illustrated. 
 
 Second Edit/on. Demy Svo. ys. 6d. net. 
 THE OLD ENGLISH COUNTRY 
 
 SQUIRE. Illustrated. Demy Svo. ior. 6d. 
 
 net. 
 
 Ditchfield (P. H.) and Roe (Fred). VAN- 
 ISHING ENGLAND. The Book by 
 P. H. Ditchfield. Illustrated by Fred 
 Roe. Second Edition. Wide Demy Svo. 
 15J. net. 
 
 Douglas (Hugh A.). VENICE ON FOOT. 
 
 With the Itinerary of the Grand Canal. 
 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Round 
 
 corners. Fcap. Svo. 5s. net. 
 VENICE AND HER TREASURES. 
 
 Illustrated. Round corners. t<cap. Svo 
 
 5s. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 Dowden (J.)- FURTHER STUDIES IN 
 THE PRAYER BOOK. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 Driver (S. R.). SERMONS ON SUB- 
 JECTS CONNECTED WITH THE 
 OLD TESTAMENT. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 Dumas (Alexandre). THE CRIMES OF 
 THE BORGIAS AND OTHERS. With 
 an Introduction by R. S. Garnett. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 THE CRIMES OF URBAIN GRAN- 
 DIER AND OTHERS. Illustrated. Cr. 
 too. 6s. 
 
 THE CRIMES OF THE MARQUISE 
 DE BRINVILLIERS AND OTHERS. 
 Illustrated. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 THE CRIMES OF ALI PASHA AND 
 OTHERS. Illustrated. Cr. too. is. 
 
 MY PETS. Newly translated by A. R. 
 ALLrNSON. Illustrated. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 Duncan (F. 
 FRIENDS 
 Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 M.). 
 AND 
 
 OUR 
 FOES. 
 
 INSECT 
 Illustrated. 
 
 Dunn-Pattison (R. P.). NAPOLEON'S 
 MARSHALS. Illustrated. Second 
 
 Edition. Demy too. 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 THE BLACK PRINCE. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Demy too. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Durham (The Earl of). THE REPORT 
 ON CANADA. With an Introductory 
 Note. Demy too. 4^. id. net. 
 
 Dutt (W. A.). THE NORFOLK BROADS. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 Egerton (H. E.). A SHORT HISTORY 
 OF BRITISH COLONIAL POLICY. 
 Third Edition. Demy Zvo. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Firth (C H.). CROMWELL'S ARMY. 
 A History of the English Soldier during the 
 Civil Wars, the Commonwealth, and the 
 Protectorate. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 Fisher (H. A. L.). THE REPUBLICAN 
 TRADITION IN EUROPE. Cr. too. 
 6s. net. 
 
 FltzGerald (Edward). THE RUBAI'YAT 
 OF OMAR KHAYYAM. Printed from 
 the Fifth and last Edition. With a Com- 
 mentary by H. M. Batson, and a Biograph- 
 ical Introduction by E. D. Ross. Cr. too. 
 6s. 
 
 Flux (A. W.). ECONOMIC PRINCIPLES. 
 Demy too. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Fraser (E.). THE SOLDIERS WHOM 
 WELLINGTON LED. Deeds of Daring, 
 Chivalry, and Renown. Illustrated. Cr. 
 too. $s. net. 
 
 Fraser (J. F.). ROUND THE WORLD 
 ON A WHEEL. Illustrated. fifth 
 Edition. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 Galton (Sir Francis). MEMORIES OF 
 MY LIFE. Illustrated. Third Edition. 
 Demy too. ios. 6d. net. 
 
 Gibbins (H. de B.). INDUSTRY IN 
 ENGLAND: HISTORICAL OUT- 
 LINES. With Maps and Plans. Seventh 
 Edition, Revised. Demy too. ios. 6d. 
 
 THE INDUSTRIAL HISTORY OF 
 ENGLAND. With 5 Maps and a Plan. 
 Nineteenth Edition. Cr. too. 3s. 
 
 ENGLISH SOCIAL REFORMERS. 
 Second Edition. Cr. too. 2s. 6d. 
 
 Evans (Herbert A.). CASTLES OF 
 ENGLAND AND WALES. Illustrated. 
 Demy too. 12J. 6d. net. 
 
 Exeter (Bishop of). REGNUM DEI. 
 (The Bampton Lectures of 1901.) A Cheaper 
 Edition. Demy too. ys. id. net. 
 
 Ewald (Carl). MY LITTLE BOY. 
 
 Translated by Alexander Teixeira db 
 Mattos. Illustrated. Fcap. too. is. 
 
 Fairbrother (W. 
 SOPHY OF T. 
 Edition. Cr. too. 
 
 ffoulkes (Charles). THE ARMOURER 
 AND HIS CRAFT. Illustrated. Royal 
 ^to. £2 2S. net. 
 
 K.). THE 
 
 PHILO- 
 
 H. GREEN. 
 
 Second 
 
 3s. 6d. 
 
 
 Gibbon (Edward). THE MEMOIRS OF 
 THE LIFE OF EDWARD GIBBON. 
 Edited by G. Birkbeck Hill. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE 
 
 ROMAN EMPIRE. Edited, with Notes, 
 Appendices, and Maps, by J. B. Bury, 
 Illustrated. In Seven Volumes. Demy 
 too. Each ios. 6d. net. Also in Seven 
 Volumes. Cr. too. 6s. each. 
 
 Glover (T. R.). THE CONFLICT OF 
 RELIGIONS IN THE EARLY ROMAN 
 EMPIRE. Fourth Edition. Demy too. 
 is. id. net. 
 
 VIRGIL. Second Edition, Demy too. 7s. 
 6d. net. 
 
 *THE CHRISTIAN TRADITION AND 
 ITS VERIFICATION. (The Angus Lec- 
 ture for 1 91 a.) Cr. too. y. 6d, net. 
 
Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Godley (A. D.). LYRA FRIVOLA. Fourth 
 
 Edition. Fcap. Svo. is. 6d. 
 VERSES TO ORDER. Second Edition. 
 
 Fcai. Svo. 2J. 6d. 
 SECOND STRINGS. Fcap. too. as. 6d. 
 
 Goatling (Frances M.). THE BRETONS 
 AT HOME. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 AUVERGNE AND ITS PEOPLE. Illus- 
 trated. Demy Svo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Gray (Arthur). CAMERIDGE. Illustrated. 
 Demy Svo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Grahame (Kenneth). THE WIND IN 
 THE WILLOWS. Illustrated. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Granger (Frank). HISTORICAL SOCI- 
 OLOGY: A Text-Book of Politics. 
 Cr. Svo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Grew (Edwin Sharpe). THE GROWTH 
 OF A PLANET. Illustrated. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Griffln (W. Hall) and Minchln (H. C). 
 THE LIFE OF ROBERT BROWNING. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy Svo. 
 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 Haig (K. G.). HEALTH THROUGH 
 DIET. Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 3s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Hale (J. R.). FAMOUS SEA FIGHTS : 
 From Salamis to Tsu-shima. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. net. 
 
 Hall(H. R.). THE ANCIENT HISTORY 
 OF THE NEAR EAST FROM THE 
 EARLIEST TIMES TO THE BATTLE 
 OF SALAMIS. Illustrated. Demy Svo. 
 15J. net. 
 
 Hannay (DA, A SHORT HISTORY OF 
 THE ROYAL NAVY. Vol. I., 1*17-1688. 
 Vol. II., 1689-1815. Dtmy Svo. Each 
 7 s.6d. 
 
 Hare (B.). THE GOLFING SWING. 
 Third Edition. Fcap. Svo. is. net. 
 
 Harper (Charles G.). THE AUTOCAR 
 ROAD-BOOK. With Maps. In Four 
 Volumes. Cr. Svo. Each 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Vol. I. — South of the Thames. 
 
 Vol. II. — North and Sooth Wales 
 and West Midlands. 
 
 Vol. III. — East Anglia and East Mid- 
 lands. 
 
 •Vol. IV. — The North of England and 
 South of Scotland. 
 
 Harris (Frank). THE WOMEN OF 
 SHAKESPEARE. Demy Svo. 7 s. id. net. 
 
 Hawaii (Arthur). THE LIFE OP 
 NAPOLEON. Illustrated. Demy Svo. 
 ■js. 6d. net. 
 
 Headley (P. W.). DARWINISM AND 
 MODERN SOCIALISM. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 5s. net. 
 
 Henderson (M. Sturge). GEORGE 
 MEREDITH: NOVELIST, POET, 
 REFORMER. With a Portrait. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Henley (W. EA, ENGLISH LYRICS: 
 CHAUCER TO POE. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. is. 6d. net. 
 
 Hill (George Francis). ONE HUNDRED 
 MASTERPIECES OF SCULPTURE. 
 Illustrated. Demy Svo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Hind (C. Lewis). DAYS IN CORNWALL. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Hobhouse (L. T.). THE THEORY OF 
 KNOWLEDGE. Demy Svo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Hobson (J. A.). INTERNATIONAL 
 TRADE : An Application of Economic 
 Theory. Cr. Svo. -zs. 6d. net. 
 
 PROBLEMS OF POVERTY: An Inquiry 
 into the Industrial Condition of tub 
 Poor. Eighth Edition. Cr. Svo. is. 6d. 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE UN- 
 EMPLOYED: An Inquiry and an 
 Economic Policy. Fifth Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 
 2S. 6d. 
 GOLD, PRICES AND WAGES. Cr. Svo. 
 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Hodgson (Mrs. W.). HOW TO IDENTIFY 
 OLD CHINESE PORCELAIN. Illus- 
 trated. Third Edition. Post Svo. 6s. 
 
 Holdich (Sir T. H.). THE INDIAN 
 BORDERLAND, i83o-igoo. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Demy Svo. 10s. id. net. 
 
 Holdsworth (W. 8.). A HISTORY OF 
 ENGLISH LAW. In Four Volumes. 
 Vols. I., //., ///. Demy Svo. Each ior. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Holland (dive). TYROL AND ITS 
 PEOPLE. Illustrated. Demy Svo. \os. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 THE BELGIANS AT HOME. Illustrated. 
 Demy Svo. ics. 6d. net. 
 
 Horsburgh (E. L. S.). LORENZO THE 
 MAGNIFICENT; and Florence in her 
 Golden Age. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Demy Svo. 155. net. 
 
 WATERLOO : A Narrative and a Crit- 
 icism. With Plans. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Svo. 5*. 
 
General Literature 
 
 THE LIFE OF SAVONAROLA. Illus- 
 trated. Cr. Bvo. $ s - net. 
 
 Hcsie (Alexander). MANCHURIA. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Demy Bvo. js. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Hudson (W. H.). A SHEPHERDS 
 LIFE : Impressions of the South Wilt- 
 shire Downs. Illustrated. Third Edi- 
 tion. Demy Bvo. js. td. net. 
 
 Humphreys (John H.). PROPORTIONAL 
 REPRESENTATION. Cr. Bvo. $s- net. 
 
 Hutchinson (Horace G.). THE NEW 
 FOREST. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6*. 
 
 Hutton (Edward). THE CITIES OF 
 SPAIN. Illustrated. Fourth Edition 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE CITIES OF UMBRIA, Illustrated 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE CITIES OF LOMBARDY. Illus 
 trated. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 FLORENCE AND NORTHERN TUS 
 CANY WITH GENOA. Illustrated 
 Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 SIENA AND SOUTHERN TUSCANY 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s, 
 
 VENICE AND VENETIA. Illustrated. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 ROME. Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. 6s. 
 
 COUNTRY WALKS ABOUT FLORENCE. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 
 Ss. net. 
 
 IN UNKNOWN TUSCANY, With Notes 
 by William Heywood. Illustrated. Second 
 Edition. Demy Bvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 A BOOK OF THE WYE. Illustrated. 
 Demy Bvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Ibsen (Henrik). BRAND. A Dramatic 
 Poem, translated by William Wilson. 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. $s. 6d. 
 
 Inge (W. P.). CHRISTIAN MYSTICISM. 
 (The Bampton Lectures of 1899.) Third 
 Edition, Cr. Bvo. $s. net. 
 
 Innes (A. D.). A HISTORY OF THE 
 BRITISH IN INDIA. With Maps and 
 Plans. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 ENGLAND UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 With Maps. Third Edition. De?uy Bvo. 
 ics. i.i. net. 
 
 Innes (Mary). SCHOOLS OF PAINT- 
 ING. Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. 
 dvo. £T. net. 
 
 Jenks (E.). AN OUTLINE OF ENG- 
 LISH LOCAL GOVERNMENT. Second 
 Edition. Revised by R. C. K. Ensor. Cr. 
 Bvo. 2j. 6d. net. 
 
 A SHORT HISTORY OF ENGLISH 
 LAW : From the Earliest Times to 
 the End of the Y»ar 1911. Demy Bvo. 
 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Jemingham (Charles Edward), THE 
 
 MAXIMS OF MARMADUKE. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 5J. 
 
 JeYOns (F. B.). PERSONALITY. Cr. 
 Bvo. 2S. 6d. net. 
 
 Johnston (Sir H. H.). BRITISH CEN- 
 TRAL AFRICA. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. \i~. \Bs. net. 
 
 THE NEGRO IN THE NEW WORLD. 
 Illustrated. Demy Bvo. zis. net. 
 
 Julian (Lady) of Norwich. REVELA- 
 TIONS OF DIVINE LOVE. Edited by 
 Grace Warrack. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. 3J. 6d. 
 
 Keats (John). THE POEMS. Edited, 
 with Introduction and Notes, by E. de 
 Selincourt. With a Frontispiece in 
 Photogravure, Third Edition. Demy Bvo. 
 •js. 6d. net. 
 
 KebJe (John), THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. 
 With an Introduction and Notes by W. 
 Lock. Illustrated. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 Bvo. 3 s. id. 
 
 Kempis (Thomas a). THE IMITATION 
 OF CHRIST. Front the Latin, with an 
 Introduction by Dean Parrar. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Fcap. Bvo. 3s. 6d 
 
 Kipling (Rudyard). BARRACK ROOM 
 BALLADS. 114th Thousand. Thirty- 
 fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. Also Fcap. 
 Bvo. Cloth, 4s. 6d. net ; Leather, 5*. net. 
 
 THE SEVEN SEAS. 94 th Thousand. 
 Twenty-first Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. Also 
 Fcap. Bvo. Cloth, 4s. 6d. net; Leather, 
 Ss. net. 
 
 THE FIVE NATIONS. 7 Bth Thousand. 
 Eleventh Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. Also Fcap. 
 Bvo. Cloth, 4s. 6d. net ; Leather, ss. net. 
 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. Twenty- 
 Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. Also Fcap. 
 Bvo. Cloth, 4s. 6d. net; Leather, ss. net. 
 
 Lamb (Charles and Mary). THE COM- 
 PLETE WORKS. Edited, with an Intro- 
 duction and Notes, by E. V. Lucas. A 
 New and Revised Edition in Six Volumes. 
 With Front. :spiece. Fcap. Bvo. 5J. each. 
 The volumes are : — 
 
 i. Miscellaneous Prose, n. Elia and 
 the Last Essays of Elia. in. Books 
 for Children, iv. Plays and Poems. 
 y. and yl. Letters. 
 
3 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Laokester (Sir Ray). SCIENCE FROM 
 AN EASY CHAIR. Illustrated. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Le Braz (Anatole). THE LAND OF 
 PARDONS. Translated by Frances M. 
 Gostling. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Lee (Gerald Stanley). INSPIRED MIL- 
 LIONAIRES. Cr. 8vo. y. 6d. net. 
 *CROWDS. Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Lock (Walter). ST. PAUL, THE 
 
 MASTER EUILDER. Third Edition. 
 Cr. 8vo. 3 j. 6<i. 
 
 THE BIBLE AND CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Lodge (Sir Oliver). THE SUBSTANCE 
 OF FAITH, ALLIED WITH SCIENCE : 
 A Catechism for Parents and Teachers. 
 Eleventh Edition. Cr. &vo. 2s. net. 
 
 MAN AND THE UNIVERSE: A Study 
 of the Influence of the Advance in 
 Scientific Knowledge upon our Under- 
 standing of Christianity. Ninth 
 Edition. Demy 8vo. $s- net. Also Fcap. 
 8vo. is. net. 
 
 THE SURVIVAL OF MAN : A Study in 
 Unrecognised Human Faculty. Fifth 
 Edition. Wide Cr. 8vo. $s. net. 
 
 REASON AND BELIEF. Fifth Edition, 
 Cr. 8vo. 2 s - 6d. net. 
 
 MODERN PROBLEMS. Cr. 8vo. 5 s. net. 
 
 Lorlmer (George Horace). LETTERS 
 FROM A SELF-MADE MERCHANT 
 TO HIS SON. Illustrated. Twenty- 
 fourth Edition. Cr. 8vo. ys. 6d. Also 
 Fcap. 8vo. is. net. 
 
 OLD GORGON GRAHAM. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. *Also Cr. 
 8vo. 2S. net. 
 
 Lucas (E. Y.). THE LIFE OF CHARLES 
 
 LAMB. Illustrated. Fifth Edition. Demy 
 
 8vo. js. 6d. net. 
 A WANDERER IN HOLLAND. Illus 
 
 trated. Fourteenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s 
 A WANDERER IN LONDON. Illus 
 
 trated. Fourteenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s 
 A WANDERER IN PARIS. Illustrated 
 
 Tenth Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s. Also Fcap 
 
 8vo. 5J. 
 
 A WANDERER IN FLORENCE. Illus- 
 trated. Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE OPEN ROAD : A Little Book for 
 Wayfarers. Nineteenth Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. $s. India Paper, -js. 6d. 
 
 THE FRIENDLY TOWN : A Little Book 
 for the Urbane. Seventh Edition. Fcap. 
 &vo. $s. 
 
 FIRESIDE AND SUNSHINE. Seventh 
 
 Edition. Fcap Evo. $s. 
 CHARACTER AND COMEDY. Sixth 
 
 Edition. Fcap. Svo. $s. 
 THE GENTLEST ART: A Choice of 
 
 Letters by Entertaining Hands. 
 
 Seventh Edition. Fcap. Svo. $s. 
 THE SECOND POST. Third Edition. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo. $s. 
 
 HER INFINITE VARIETY : A Feminine 
 Portrait Gallery. Sixth Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. 5J. 
 
 GOOD COMPANY: A Rally of Men. 
 
 Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. $s. 
 ONE DAY AND ANOTHER. Fifth 
 
 Edition. Fcap. 8vo. $s. 
 
 OLD LAMPS FOR NEW. Fourth Edition. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 5J. 
 
 LISTENER'S LURE : An Oblique Narra- 
 tion. Ninth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. is. 
 
 OVER BEMERTON'S: An Easy-Going 
 Chronicle. Tenth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 
 
 MR. INGLESIDE. Ninth Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. 5J. 
 
 THE BRITISH SCHOOL : An Anecdotal 
 Guide to the British Painters and 
 Paintings in the National Gallery. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 See also Lamb (Charles). 
 
 Lydekker (R.) and Others. REPTILES, 
 AMPHIBIA, FISHES, AND LOWER 
 CHORDATA. Edited by J. C. Cunning- 
 ham. Illustrated. Demy Svo. ios. 6d. net. 
 
 Lydekker (R.). THE OX AND ITS 
 KINDRED. Illustrated. Cr. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Macaulay (Lord). CRITICAL AND 
 HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Edited by F. 
 C. Montague. Three Volumes. Cr. 8vo. 
 i8s. 
 
 McCabe (Joseph). THE DECAY OF THE 
 CHURCH OF ROME. Third Edition. 
 Demy 8vo. -js. 6d. net. 
 
 THE EMPRESSES OF ROME. Illustrated. 
 Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 MacCarthy (Desmond) and Russell 
 
 (Agatha). LADY JOHN RUSSELL: A 
 
 Memoir. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Demy 8vo. ios. 6d. net. 
 
 McCullagh (Francis). THE FALL OF 
 ABD-UL-HA.MID. Illustrated. Demy 
 8vo. ios. 6d. net. 
 
 McDougall (William). AN INTRODUC- 
 TION TO SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY. 
 Sixth Edition. Cr. 8vo. $s. net. 
 
 BODY AND MIND: A History and a 
 Defence of Animism. Second Edition 
 Denty Svo. ios. 6d. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 « Mdlle. Mori ' (Author of). ST. CATHER- 
 1NE OF SIENA AND HER TIMES. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 •js. 6d. net. 
 
 Maeterlinck (Maurice). THE BLUE 
 BIRD: A Fairy Play in Six Acts. 
 Translated by Alexander Teixeira de 
 Mattos, Fcap. Zvo. Deckle Edges, 3 s. ?d- 
 net. Also Fcap. Zvo. zs.net. An Edition, 
 illustrated in colour by F. Cayley Robin- 
 son, is also published. Cr. ^to. Gilt top. 
 21s. net. Of the above book Thirty-three 
 Editions in all have been issued. 
 
 MARY MAGDALENE : A Play in Tht^ee 
 Acts. Translated by Alexander Teixeira 
 de Mattos. Third Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 Deckle Edges. 3J. 6d. net. A Iso Fcap. Zvo. 
 is. net. 
 
 DEATH. Translated by Alexander 
 
 Teixeira de Mattos. Fourth Edition. 
 Fcap. Zvo. 3 j. 6d. net. 
 
 Mahaffy (J. P.). A HISTORY OF EGYPT 
 UN DE R TH E PTOLEMAIC DYNASTY. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Maltland (F. W.). ROMAN CANON LAW 
 IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 
 Royal Zvo. js. 6d. 
 
 Harett (R. R.). THE THRESHOLD OF 
 RELIGION. Cr. Zvo. 3 s. 6d. net. 
 
 Marriott (Charles). A SPANISH HOLI- 
 DAY. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. -js. 6d. net. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE RHINE. 
 Illustrated. Demy B00. zos. 6d. net. 
 
 Marriott (J. 5. R.). THE LIFE AND 
 TIMES OF LUCIUS CARY, VIS- 
 COUNT FALKLAND. Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 70. 6d. net. 
 
 ENGLAND SINCE WATERLOO. Demy 
 Zvo. zos. 6d. net. 
 
 SEA LIFE IN NEL- 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 
 
 Masefield (John). 
 
 SON'S TIME. 
 
 jr. td. net. 
 A SAILOR'S GARLAND. Selected and 
 
 Edited. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 net. 
 
 Masterman (G. F. G.). TENNYSON 
 
 A3 A RELIGIOUS TEACHER. Second 
 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE CONDITION OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. Also Fcap. 
 
 Zvo. is net. 
 
 Mayne (Ethel Colbarn). BYRON. Illus- 
 trated. In Two Volumes. Demy Zvo. 21s. 
 net. 
 
 Medley (D. J.). ORIGINAL ILLUSTRA- 
 TIONS OF ENGLISH CONSTITU- 
 TIONAL HISTORY. Cr.Zvo. qs.6d.net. 
 
 Methuen(A.M. S.). ENGLAND'S RUIN: 
 Discussed in Fourteen Letters to a 
 Protectionist. Ninth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 2,d. net. 
 
 Miles (Eustace). LIFE AFTER LIFE; 
 
 or, The Theory of Reincarnation. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 THE POWER OF CONCENTRATION: 
 
 How to Acquire it. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 2 s - &/• nr -t- 
 
 Millais (J. G.). THE LIFE AND LET- 
 TERS OF SIR JOHN EVERETT 
 MILLAIS. Illustrated. New Edition. 
 Demy Zvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Milne (J. G.). A HISTORY OF EGYPT 
 UNDER ROMAN RULE. Illustrated. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Moffat (Mary M.). QUEEN LOUISA OF 
 PRUSSIA. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 MARIA THERESA. Illustrated. Demy 
 Zvo. zos. 6d. net. 
 
 Money (L. G. Chiozza). RICHES AND 
 POVERTY. New and Revised Issue. 
 Cr. Zvo. is. net. 
 
 MONEYS FISCAL DICTIONARY, 1910. 
 
 Second Edition. Demy Zvo. $s. net. 
 THINGS THAT MATTER: Papers on 
 Subjects which are, or ought to be, 
 under Discussion. Demy Zvo. 5*. net. 
 
 Montague (0. E.). DRAMATIC VALUES. 
 Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 5s. 
 
 Mcorhouse (E. Hcliam). NELSON'S 
 LADY HAMILTON. Illustrated. Third 
 Editijn. Demy Zvo. -js. 6d. net. 
 
 Morgan (C. Lloyd). INSTINCT AND 
 EXPERIENCE. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 5 j. net. 
 
 Nevill (Lady Dorothy). MY OWN 
 TIMES. Edited by her Son. Second Edi- 
 tion. Demy Zvo. z^s. net. 
 
 Norway (A. H.). NAPLES : Past and 
 Present. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 O'Bonnell (Elliot). WERWOLVES. Cr. 
 Zvo. $s. net. 
 
 Oman (C. W. C.). A HISTORY OF THE 
 ART OF WAR IN THE MIDDLE 
 AGES. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. zos. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 ENGLAND BEFORE THE NORMAN 
 CONQUEST. With Maps. Third Edi 
 Hon, Revised. Demy Zvo. 10s. td. net. 
 
10 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Oxford (M. N.). A HANDBOOK OF 
 NURSING. Sixth Edition, Revised. 
 Cr. Svo. 33. 6d. net. 
 
 Pakes (W. C. C). THE SCIENCE OF 
 HYGIENE. Illustrated. Second and 
 Cheaper Edition. Revised by A. T. 
 Nankivell. Cr. Svo. 5s. net. 
 
 Parker (Eric). A BOOK OF THE 
 ZOO. Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Svo. ts. 
 
 Pears (Sir Edwin). TURKEY AND ITS 
 PEOPLE. Second Edition. Demy Svo. 
 1 2 j. td. net. 
 
 Petrie (W. M. Flinders.) A HISTORY 
 OF EGYPT. Illustrated. In Six Volumes. 
 Cr. Svo. ts. each. 
 Vol. I. From thk 1st to the XVIth 
 
 Dynasty. Seventh Edition. 
 Vol. II. The XVIIth and XVIIIth 
 
 Dynasties. Fourth Edition. 
 Vol. III. XIXth to XXXth Dynasties. 
 Vol. IV. Egypt under the Ptolemaic 
 
 Dynasty. J. P. Mahaffy. 
 Vol V. Egypt under Roman Rule. J. G. 
 
 Milne. 
 Vol. VI. Egypt in the Middle Ages. 
 
 Stanley Lane-Poole. 
 RELIGION AND CONSCIENCE IN 
 ANCIENT EGYPT. Illustrated. Cr. Svo. 
 2s. td. 
 SYRIA AND EGYPT, FROM THE TELL 
 EL AMARNA LETTERS. Cr. Svo. 
 2s. 6d. 
 EGYPTIAN TALES. Translated from the 
 Papyri. First Series, ivth to xnth Dynasty. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 3s. td. 
 EGYPTIAN TALES. Translated from the 
 Papyri. Second Series, xvmth to XIXth 
 Dynasty. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 3s. td. 
 EGYPTIAN DECORATIVE ART. Illus- 
 trated. Cr. Svo. 3s. td. 
 
 Phelps (Ruth S.). SKIES ITALIAN: A 
 Little Breviary for Travellers in 
 Italy. Fcap Svo. Leather, 5s. net. 
 
 Pollard (Alfred W.). SHAKESPEARE 
 FOLIOS AND QUARTOS. A Study in 
 the Bibliography of Shakespeare's Plays, 
 1594-1685. Illustrated, tolio. 21s. net. 
 
 Porter (G. R.). THE PROGRESS OF 
 THE NATION. A New Edition. Edited 
 by F. W. Hirst. Demy Svo. 21J. net. 
 
 Power (J. O'Connor). THE MAKING OF 
 AN ORATOR. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Price (Eleanor C). CARDINAL DE 
 RICHELIEU. Illustrated. Second Edi- 
 tion. Demy Svo. 10s. td. net. 
 
 Price (L. L.). A SHORT HISTORY OF 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY IN ENGLAND 
 FROM ADAM SMITH TO ARNOLD 
 TOYNBEE. Seventh Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 2S. td. 
 
 Pycraft (W. P.). A HISTORY OF BIRDS. 
 Illustrated. Demy Svo. 10s. td. net. 
 
 Rawlings (Gertrude B.). COINS AND 
 HOW TO KNO'.V THEM. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Svo. ts. 
 
 Regan (C. Tait). THE FRESHWATER 
 FISHES OF THE BRITISH ISLES. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Svo. ts. 
 
 Reid (Archdall). THE LAWS OF HERE- 
 DITY. Second Edition. Demy Svo. 21s. 
 net. 
 
 Robertson (C. Grant). SELECT STAT- 
 UTES, CASES, AND DOCUMENTS, 
 1660- 1 832. Secotid and Enlarged Edition. 
 Demy Svo. 10s. td. net. 
 
 ENGLAND UNDER THE HANOVER- 
 IANS. Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy 
 Svo. toj. td. net. 
 
 Roe (Fred). OLD OAK FURNITURE. 
 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy Svo. 
 ioj. td net. 
 
 Ross (F. W. Forbes). CANCER: The 
 Problem of its Genesis and Treat- 
 ment. Demy Svo. is. net. 
 
 Ryan (P. F. W.). STUART LIFE AND 
 MANNERS: A Social History. Illus- 
 trated. Demy Svo. \os. td. net. 
 
 *Ryley (A. Beresford). OLD PASTE. 
 
 Illustrated. Royal Svo. £2 2s. net. 
 
 St. Francis of Assisi. THE LITTLE 
 FLOWERS OF THE GLORIOUS 
 MESSER, AND OF HIS FRIARS. 
 Done into English, with Notes by William 
 Heywood. Illustrated. Demy Svo. 5s.net. 
 
 'Baki' (H. H. Monro). REGINALD. 
 
 Third Edition. Fcap. Svo. 2s. td. net. 
 REGINALD IN RUSSIA. Fcap. Sro. 
 
 2s. td. net. 
 
 Sandeman (G. A. C.). METTERNICH. 
 Illustrated. Demy Svo. ioj. td. net. 
 
 Schidrowitz (Philip). RUBBER. Illus 
 trated. Demy Svo. ioj. td. net. 
 
 Schloesser (H. H.). TRADE UNIONISM. 
 Cr. Svo. 2S. 6./. 
 
General Literature 
 
 ii 
 
 Selous (Edmund). TOMMY SMITH'S 
 ANIMALS. Illustrated. Twelfth Edi- 
 tion. Fcap. Zvo. 2S. 6d. 
 
 TOMMY SMITH'S OTHER ANIMALS. 
 Illustrated. Sixth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 2S. 6d. 
 
 JACK'S INSECTS. Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Sbakesseare (William), 
 
 THE FOUR FOLIOS, 1623; 1632; 1664; 
 
 1685. Each £4 4J. net, or a complete set, 
 
 ;£i2 125. net. 
 
 THE POEMS OF WILLIAM SHAKE- 
 SPEARE. With an Introduction and Notes 
 by George Wyndham. Demy Zvo. Buck- 
 rant, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Shellay (Percy Bysshe). THE POEMS 
 OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. With 
 an Introduction by A. Clutton-Brock and 
 notes by C. D. Locock. Two Volumes. 
 Demy Zvo. 21s. net. 
 
 Sladen (Douglas). SICILY. The New 
 Winter Resort. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. $s. net. 
 
 Bmith (Adam). THE WEALTH OF 
 NATIONS. Edited by Edwin Cannan. 
 Two Volumes. Demy Zvo. 21s. net. 
 
 Smith (G. F. Herbert). OEM-STONES 
 AND THEIR DISTINCTIVE CHARAC- 
 TERS. Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Snell (F. J.). A BOOK OF EXMOOR. 
 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE CUSTOMS OF OLD ENGLAND. 
 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 'Stancliffe.' GOLF DO'S AND DONT'S. 
 Fifth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. is. net. 
 
 Stevenson (R. L.). THE LETTERS OF 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Edited 
 by Sir Sidney Colvin. A New and En- 
 larged Edition in four volumes. Third 
 Edition. Fcap. Zvo. Each 55. Leather, 
 each $s. net. 
 
 Stevenson (M. I.). FROM SARANAC 
 TO THE MARQUESAS AND BEYOND. 
 Being Letters written by Mrs. M. I. Steven- 
 son during 1887-88. Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. net. 
 
 LETTERS FROM SAMOA, 1891-05. Edited 
 and arranged by M. C. Balfour. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Storr (Yernon F.). DEVELOPMENT 
 AND DIVINE PURPOSE. Cr. Zvo. «. 
 net. * 
 
 Streatfelld (R. A.). MODERN MUSIC 
 AND MUSICIANS. Illustrated. Second 
 Edition. Demy Zvo. ?s. 6d. net. 
 
 Stanton (E. Y7.). FUNGI AND HOW 
 TO KNOW THEM. Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. net. 
 
 j BRITISH PLANT - GALLS. Cr. Zvo. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Symes (J. E.). THE FRENCH REVO- 
 LUTION. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 2s.6d. 
 
 Tabor (Margaret E.). THE SAINTS IN 
 ART. Illustrated. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 Zvo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Taylor (A. E.). ELEMENTS OF META 
 PHYSICS. Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 ioj. (d. net. 
 
 Taylor (Mrs. Basil) (Harriet Osgood). 
 JAPANESE GARDENS. Illustrated. 
 Cr. t,to. z\s. net. 
 
 Thibaudeau (A. C). BONAPARTE AND 
 THE CONSULATE. Translated and 
 Edited by G. K. Fortescue. Illustrated. 
 Demy Zvo. ioj. 6d. net. 
 
 Thomas (Edward). MAURICE MAE 
 TERLINCK. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. $s. net. 
 
 Thompson (Francis). SELECTED 
 
 POEMS OF FRANCIS THOMPSON. 
 
 With a Biographical Note by Wilfrid 
 
 Meynell, With a Portrait in Photogravure 
 
 j Twentieth Tiiousand. Fcap. Zvo. 55. net. 
 
 i Tileston (Hary W.). DAILY STRENGTH 
 FOR DAILY NEEDS. Twentieth Edi- 
 tion. Medium \6mo. is. 6d. net. Also an 
 edition in superior binding, 6s. 
 
 \ THE STRONGHOLD OF HOPE. 
 Medium \6mo. ss. 6d. net. 
 
 Toynbee (Paget). DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 His Life and Works. With 16 Illustra- 
 tions. Fourth and Enlarged Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. is. net. 
 
 Trevelyan (G. M.). ENGLAND UNDER 
 THE STUARTS. With Maps and Plans. 
 Fifth Edition. Demy Zvo. ioj. 6d. net. 
 
 Trigg3 (H. Inigo). TOWN PLANNING : 
 Past, Present, and Possible. Illustra- 
 ted. Second Edition. Wide Royal Zvo. 
 15J. net. 
 
 Turner (Sir Alfred E.). SIXTY YEARS 
 OF A SOLDIER'S LIFE, Demy Zvo. 
 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 Underhill (Evelyn). MYSTICISM. A 
 Study in the Nature and Development of 
 Man's Spiritual Consciousness. Fourth 
 Edition. Demy Zvo. 155. net. 
 
 Underwood (F. M.). UNITED ITALY. 
 Demy Zv^. tos. 6a. net. 
 
12 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Urwick (E. J.). A PHILOSOPHY OF 
 SOCIAL PROGRESS. Cr. few. 6s. 
 
 Yardon (Harry). HOW TO PLAY GOLF. 
 Illustrated. Fifth Edition. Cr. too. 5s. 
 tut. 
 
 Yaughan (Herbert M.). THE NAPLES 
 
 RIVIERA. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. too. 6s. 
 FLORENCE AND HER TREASURES. 
 
 Illustrated. Fcap. too. Round Corners. 
 
 5s. net. 
 
 Yernon (Hon. W. Warren). READINGS 
 ON THE INFERNO OF DANTE. With 
 an Introduction by the Rev. Dr. Moore. 
 Two Volumes. Second Edition. Cr. too. 
 15$. net. 
 
 READINGS ON THE PURGATORIO 
 OF DANTE. With an Introduction by 
 the late Dean Church. Two Volumes. 
 Third Edition. Cr. too. 15 J. net. 
 
 READINGS ON THE PARADISO OF 
 DANTE. With an Introduction by the 
 Bishop of Ripon. Two Volumes. Second 
 Edition. Cr. too. 15J. net. 
 
 Yickers (Kenneth H.). ENGLAND IN 
 THE LATER MIDDLE AGES. Demy 
 toe. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Wade (G. W. and J. H.). RAMBLES IN 
 SOMERSET. Illustrated. Cr. too. 6s. 
 
 Waddell (L. A.). LHASA AND ITS 
 MYSTERIES. With a Record of the Ex- 
 pedition of 1903-1904. Illustrated. Third 
 and Cheaper Edition. Medium too. 7s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Wagner (Richard). RICHARD WAG- 
 NER'S MUSIC DRAMAS. Interpreta- 
 tions, embodying Wagner's own explana- 
 tions. By Alice Leighton Cleather 
 and Basil Crump. Fcap. too. %s. 6d. each. 
 The Ring of the Nibelung. 
 Fifth Edition. 
 
 LOHENGRIN AND PARSIFAL. 
 
 Second Edition, rewritten and enlarged. 
 Tristan and Isolde. 
 Tannhauser and the Mastersingers 
 of Nuremburg. 
 
 Waterhouse (Elizabeth). WITH THE 
 SIMPLE-HEARTED. Little Homilies to 
 Women in Country Places. Third Edition- 
 Small f'ott too. is. net. 
 
 THE HOUSE BY THE CHERRY TREE. 
 A Second Series of Little Homilies to 
 Women in Country Places. Small / ott too. 
 2S. rut. 
 
 COMPANIONS OF THE WAY. Being 
 Selections for Morning and Evening Read- 
 ing. Chosen and arranged by Elizabeth 
 Waterhouse. Large Cr. too. $s. net. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF A TERTIARY. Small 
 Pott too. is. net. 
 
 VERSES. Fcap. Zvo. 2s. net. 
 
 Waters (W. G.). ITALIAN SCULPTORS 
 AND SMITHS. Illustrated. Cr. too. 
 js. bd. net. 
 
 Watt (Francis). EDINBURGH AND 
 THE LOTHIANS. Illustrated. Second 
 Edition. Cr. too. xos. 6d. net. 
 
 Wedmore (Sir Frederick). MEMORIES. 
 Second Edition. Demy too. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Weigall (Arthur E. P.). A GUIDE TO 
 THE ANTIQUITIES OF UPPER 
 EGYPT: From Abydos to the Sudan 
 Frontier. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. too. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Wells (J.). OXFORD AND OXFORD 
 LIFE. Third Edition. Cr. too. y. 6d. 
 
 A SHORT HISTORY OF ROME. Twelfth 
 Edition. With 3 Maps. Cr. too. 3s. 6d. 
 
 Whitten (Wilfred). A LONDONERS 
 LONDON. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Cr. too. $s. net. 
 
 Wilde (Oscar). THE WORKS OF OSCAR 
 WILDE, fn Twelve Volumes. Fcap. too. 
 5J. net each volume. 
 
 I. Lord Arthur Savii.e's Crime and 
 the Portrait of Mr. W. H. II. The 
 Duchess of Padua. in. Poems. iv. 
 Lady Windermere's Fan. v. A Woman 
 of No Importance, vi. An Ideal Hus- 
 band, vii. The Importance of being 
 Earnest. vim. A H< use of Pome- 
 granates, ix. Intentions, x. De Pro- 
 funda and Prison Letters. XI. Essays. 
 xil Salome, A Florentine Tragedy, 
 and La Sainte Courtis ^ne. 
 
 Williams (H.Noel). A ROSE OF SAVOY: 
 Marie Adelaide of Savoy, Duchf.sse de 
 Bourc.ogne, Mother of L^uis xv. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Demy too. 15J. 
 net. 
 
 THE FASCINATING DUC DE RICHE- 
 LIEU : Louis Francois Armakd du 
 Plessis (1606-1783). Illustrated. Demy too. 
 1 5 s. net. 
 
 A PRINCESS OF ADVENTURE : Marif 
 Caroline, Duchessb de Berry (1798- 
 ustrated. Demy too. 15J. net. 
 
 THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE 
 CONDES(i53o-i74o). Illustrated. Demy 
 too. 15.?. net. 
 
General Literature 
 
 13 
 
 Wood (Sir Evelyn). FROM MIDSHIP- 
 MAN TO FIELD-MARSHAL. Illus- 
 trated. Fifth Edition. Demy 3cw. ys. &/. 
 ■net. Also Fcap. &vo. is. net. 
 
 THE REVOLT IN HINDUSTAN (1857- 
 59). Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. 
 
 Viood (W. Birkfaeck) and Edmonds (Col. 
 J. E.). A HISTORY OF THE CIVIL 
 WAR IN THE UNITED STATES 
 (1 S61-65). With an Introduction by Spenser 
 Wilkinson. With 24 Maps and Flans. 
 Third Edition. Demy Bvo. 12s. id. ?:et. 
 
 Wordsworth (W.). THE POEMS. With 
 an Introduction and Notes by NoWELL C. 
 Smith. In Three Volumes. Demy &zk>. 
 1 5 s. net. 
 
 leata (W. B.). A BOOK OF IRISH 
 VERSE. Third Edition. Cr. Zvt>. y &*. 
 
 Part II. — A Selection of Series 
 
 Bristol. Alfred Harvey. 
 Canterbury. J. C. Cox. 
 Chester. B. C. A. Win die. 
 Dublin. S. A. O. Fitzpatxick 
 
 Ancient Cities 
 
 General Editor, B. C. A. WINDLE 
 
 Cr. Svo. 4jt. 6d. net each volutne 
 With Illustrations by E. H. New, and other Artists 
 
 Edinburgh. M. G. Williamson. 
 Lincoln. E. Mansel Sympson. 
 
 Shrewsbury. T. Auden. 
 
 Wells and Glastonbury. T. S. Holmes. 
 
 Ancient Painted Glass in England, The. 
 Philip Nelson. 
 
 Arch.eology and False Antiquities. 
 R. Munro. 
 
 Tha Antiquary's Books 
 
 General Editor, J. CHARLES COX 
 
 Demy Svo. Js. 6:/. net each volume 
 
 With Numerous Illustrations 
 
 Domesday Inquest, The. Adolphus Ballard. 
 
 Bells of England, The. 
 Raven. Second Edition. 
 
 Canon J. J. 
 
 Brasses of England, The. Herbert W. 
 Macklin. Third Edition. 
 
 Celtic Art in Pagan and Christian 
 Times. J. Rornilly Allen. Second Edition. 
 
 Castles and Walled Towns of England, 
 The. A. Harvey. 
 
 English Church Furniture. J. C Cox 
 and A. Harvey. Second Edition. 
 
 English Costume. From Prehistoric Times 
 to the End of the Eighteenth Century. 
 George Clinch. 
 
 English Monastic Life. Abbot Gasqueu 
 Fourth Edition. 
 
 English Seals. J. Harvey Bloom. 
 
 Folk-Lore as an Historical Science. 
 Sir G. L. Gommc. 
 
H 
 
 Metiiuen and Company Limited 
 
 The Antiquary's Books — continued 
 
 Gilds and Companies of London, The. 
 George Unwin. 
 
 Manor and Manorial Records, The. 
 Nathaniel J. Hone. Second Edition. 
 
 Medieval Hospitals of England, The. 
 Rotha Mary Clay. 
 
 Old Churchwardens' Accounts. J. C. 
 Cox. 
 
 Old English Instruments ok Music. 
 F. W. Galpin. Second Edition. 
 
 Old English Libraries. James Hutt. 
 
 Old Service Books of the English 
 Church. Christopher Wordsworth, and 
 Henry Littlehales. Second Edition. 
 
 Parish Life in Mediaeval Englanb 
 Abbot Gasquet. Third Edition. 
 
 Parish Registers of England, The. 
 J. C. Cox. 
 
 Remains of the Prehistoric Age in 
 England. B. C. A. Windle. Secona 
 Edition. 
 
 Roman Era in Britain, The. J. Ward. 
 
 Romano-British Buildings and Earth- 
 works. J. Ward. 
 
 Royal Forests of England, The. J. C. 
 Cox. 
 
 Shrines of British Saints. J. C. Wall. 
 
 The Arden Shakespeare. 
 
 Demy Svo. is. 6d. net each volume 
 
 An edition of Shakespeare in Single Plays ; each edited with a full Introduction, 
 Textual Notes, and a Commentary at the foot of the page 
 
 All's Well That Ends Well. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra. Second Edition. 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 Cymbeline. 
 
 Comedy of Errors, The. 
 
 Hamlet. Third Edition. 
 
 Julius Caesar. 
 
 *King Henry iv. Pt. l 
 
 King Henry v. 
 
 King Henry vi. Pt. i 
 
 King Henry vi. Pt. ii. 
 
 King Henry vi. Pt. hi. 
 
 King Lear. 
 
 King Richard ii. 
 
 King Richard hi. 
 
 Life and Death of King John, The. 
 
 Love's Labour's Lost. 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 Merchant of Venice, The. Second Edition. 
 Merry Wives of Windsor, The. 
 Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 
 Othello. 
 Pericles. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 i Taming of the Shrew, The. 
 Tempest, The. 
 Timon of Athens. 
 Titus Andronicus. 
 Troilus and Cressida. 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, The. 
 Twelfth Night. 
 Venus and Adonis. 
 Winter's Tale, The. 
 
 The Art of the Greeks. 
 i2s. 6d. net. 
 
 The Art of the Romans. 
 
 15-f. net. 
 
 Chakdin. H. K A. Furst. 
 
 Classics of Art 
 
 Edited by Dr. J. H. W. LAING 
 
 With numerous Illustrations. Wide Royal Svo 
 H. B. Walters. 
 
 H. B. Walters. 
 
 i as. 6d. net. 
 
 Donatello. Maud Cruttwell. 15s. net. 
 
 Florentine Sculptors of the Renais- 
 sance. Wilhelm Bode. Translated by- 
 Jessie Haynes. ris. 6d. net. 
 
 George Romney. Arthur B. Chamberiain. 
 IM, 6i/. tut. 
 
General Literature 
 
 Classics of Art— continued 
 
 Ghirlandaio. Gerald S. Davies. Second 
 Edition. 10s. 6d. 
 
 Michelangelo. Gerald S. Davies. 12s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Rubens. Edward Dillon. 25s. net. 
 
 Raphael. A. P. Oppe\ \is. 6d. net. 
 
 Rembrandt's Etchings. A. M. Hind. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence. Sir Walter 
 Armstrong. 21J. net. 
 
 Titian. Charles Ricketts. 15J. net. 
 
 Tintoretto. Evelyn March Phillipps. 15^. 
 net. 
 
 Turner's Sketches and Drawings. A. J. 
 Finberg. 12J. id. net. Second Edition. 
 
 Velazquez. A. de Beruete. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 The 'Complete' Series. 
 
 Fully Illustrated. Demy Svo 
 
 The Complete Association Footballer. 
 B. S. Evers and C. E. Hughes-Davies. 
 $s. net. 
 
 The Complete Billiard Player. Charles 
 Roberts. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 The Complete Cook. Lilian Whitling. 
 7.?. 6d. net. 
 
 The Complete Cricketer. Albert E. 
 Knight, js.6d.net. Second Edition. 
 
 The Complete Foxhunter. Charles Rich- 
 ardson. \2s. 6d. net. Second Edition. 
 
 The Complete Golfer. Harry Vardon. 
 1 or. 6d. net. Thirteenth Edition. 
 
 The Complete Hockey-Player. Eustace 
 E. White. 5-s-. net. Second Edition. 
 
 The Complete Horseman. W. Scarth 
 Dixon. Second Edition, iar. 6d. net. 
 
 The Complete Lawn Tennis Player. 
 A. Wallis Myers. iar. 6d. net. Third 
 Edition, Revised. 
 
 The Complete Motorist. Filson Young. 
 12J. 6d. net. New Edition (Seventh). 
 
 The Complete Mountaineer. G. D. 
 Abraham. 15s.net. Second Edition. 
 
 The Complete Oarsman. R. C. Lehmann. 
 io.r. td. net. 
 
 The Complete Photographer. R. Child 
 Bayley. icj. 6d. net. Fourth Edition. 
 
 The Complete Rugby Footballer, on the 
 New Zealand System. D. Gallaher and 
 W. J. Stead. \os. id. net. Second Edition. 
 
 The Complete Shot. G. T. Teasdale- 
 Buckell. 12s.6d.net. Third Edition. 
 
 The Complete Swimmer. F. Sachs. 
 net. 
 
 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Complete Yachtsman. B. Heckstall- 
 Suiith and E. du Boulay. Second Edition. 
 1 55. net. 
 
 The Connoisseur's Library 
 
 With numerous Illustrations. Wide Royal Svo. 2$s. net each volume 
 
 English Furniture. F. S. Robinson. 
 
 English Coloured Books. Martin Hardie. 
 
 Etchings. Sir F. Wedmore Second Edition. 
 
 European Enamels. Henry H. Cunyng- 
 hame. 
 
 Glass. Edward Dillon. 
 
 Goldsmiths' and Silversmiths' Work. 
 Nelson Dawson. Second Edition. 
 
 Illuminated Manuscripts. J. A. Herbert. 
 Second Edi 
 
 Ivories. Alfred Maskell. 
 
 Jewellery. H. Clifford Smith. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Mezzotints. Cyril Davenport, 
 
 Miniatures. Dudley Heath. 
 
 Porcelain. Edward Dillon. 
 
 Fine Books. A. W. Pollard. 
 
 Seals. Walter de Gray Birch. 
 
 Wood Sculpture. Alfred Maskell. Second 
 Edition. 
 
i6 
 
 Metuuen and Company L. 
 
 Handbooks of English Church History 
 
 Edited by J. H. BURN. >:.\ 2s. 
 
 The Ref HtMAI . d. Henry Gee. 
 
 The Foumim m n - Em jl:>:c C 
 J. H. Mb 
 
 The S*.\ n CHUKU and th-: N 
 
 •. C T. t 
 
 ] 'N? THE } I 
 
 A- C 
 
 The Struggle with Puritan: -:. Bruce 
 
 The Church or B jk- 
 
 tee-STH Cen' -ed Plunimer. 
 
 Handbooks of Theology 
 
 The Duel Kim l. R L, 
 
 0::'.ey. 
 
 A H 
 ). F. Betho) «- Baker. Demy &v. iax. &/. 
 
 His 
 
 n. F. B. Jevons. --iuw. 
 
 ro the History or i 
 . n -. A. E. Burn. Demy be*, ioj. 6JL 
 
 OSOPHY Or AND 
 
 XXXIX H OF 
 
 . . . : • 
 
 The ' Home Life ' Series 
 
 6s. to ioj. 6d. tut 
 
 :: Life at t G. 
 
 I y. StCPnJ EJ: 
 
 ■ Life Betham- 
 
 - 
 
 Star**' . 
 
 M Hollaxd, D. S. M; drum. 
 
 : 
 
 I 
 
 Saa wdMdt: ■•.. 
 
 M N D SA AT 
 
 - 
 
 H. K. Daniels. 
 
 •IB Life a .". - -popart. 
 
 5. L. Bcnsasan. 
 
 The Illustrated Pocket I j of Plain and Coloured Bocks 
 
 
 
 WITH COLOURED ILL ATIONS 
 
 The Lffl 
 
 N 
 
 Han- ley Ck. S S Ftwrtk 
 
 - 
 - 
 
 - - -ITIES- R 5 
 
 - 
 
 - Surtees. 
 
 u.vss or THt aa 
 
 R. S. Surtees. 
 
 The Tour of Dr. c ■: of 
 
 the Pi.. , 
 
 The Tour of Dr. S r£A»CH of 
 
 >. t 10 s . W liliam Combe. 
 
 Th;rd Tour of Df. -.arch 
 
 LtPI Pierce Egao. 
 
 WITH PLAIN ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 e G: ■mo. Robert Blair. the Book of Job, 
 
 ■ 
 
General Literature 
 
 •' 
 
 Leaders of Religion 
 
 Edited by II. C. BEECHING. With Portraits 
 Crown Rev. zs. net each volume 
 
 Cardinal Mkwmajl K. H. Hutton. 
 
 ELEV. J. H 
 
 Bi^iwr Wilbekfoscc G. W. Da t 
 Cardinal Manning. A. W. Hutton. 
 H. C G. H 
 
 F. Mac 7 
 
 : m. 
 Thomas Ken. F. A C~ 
 
 ■ >:. T. B( . 
 
 Thir j 
 
 Walter Lo 
 
 Thomas Chalmers. Mrs. OliphanL Second 
 Ed I 
 
 ls. R. L. Qtlley. Second 
 Ed. I 
 
 August ike of Ca.> utttt. 
 
 Was W. H. Hutton. Ftrvrtk 
 
 John Donne. Au^ustu; 
 Thomas Ckanmer. A J. Mason. 
 Latimer. R. M. Caa i jadpfei 
 
 E .tler. W. A. Spooner- 
 
 The Library of DeYotion 
 
 ih Intro and (where r- .•'. 
 
 : 'jd, cloth, Zs. r , Zs. 6d. - . urnc 
 
 s of St. A". 
 
 . . 
 
 Christ. Sixth Edition. 
 
 Thrust ia>- i '_ • tatm. 
 
 Eam JM. Third Edition. 
 
 ' ccond En.. 
 
 ramus. Second Er'-.. 
 
 a Devout aki> H 
 Life. . 
 
 AG. 
 
 ■ ■ 
 • I ■ ■ 
 
 I 
 
 : ■ 
 
 A ' ' 
 
 I 
 
 M THE A: 
 
 T 
 
 The - St. Anselm. 
 
 J'RIVATA. 
 
 Grace Abouj- - I he Chief of Sin- 
 
 mi I 
 
 Sacra. A 
 id Edition. 
 
 of Sacred Verse. 
 
 A Day :>m the Saints • 
 
 A Little Book of Heavenly Wisdom. A 
 : lion from the English My 
 
 Ljght, Life, and I 
 the German Mystics. 
 
 A SelectioD from 
 :FE. 
 
 The Little I 
 Men- 
 
 - 
 
 The SriRiTUAL Guide. Second Edition. 
 
 ■ 
 
 from the 
 
 - ■ 
 
:.- 
 
 . [ethuen and Cc 
 
 Little Books on Art 
 
 With many IUustrations. D*+ 
 
 I ::■: 
 
 ::.- -Z.z-g z 7:_r . _-. 
 
 Aw ■■■» u w Dokek. L. J. A Hen. 
 
 Aets of Japax, The. £. DUIjq. Tfe'n/ 
 
 _7_.::. -. 
 E.Vv-^.Tii. I A " i:'v. 
 E.:: :;:lj. )•'_-; 1 ; - ::. 
 
 ':v-« 7 _i 1 : t 
 Crina R. H. H. Cast. 
 Jh. r-:>.> S • v :- . '..- ? .'•■ H ."t--.t- 
 
 3:-: ? :;: :> A- - :•':.- H V t- 
 C-'.:zz. Z 7 :r. 
 Constable. H- W. Tompkins. S*«r— f 
 
 77j :..-*. 
 :.--:t A 7. i::--;! I - : - - 
 *Kably Lvcush Watee-Cdlooe. C E_ 
 
 EXAKE_5 V.-i. N 7 _-■ 
 
 ;?.•: - • :: 7 • : ■ r : • A _" -.-_:. 
 Gboegb Romxst. G. Pastok. 
 
 A- 7. I-:. I. "."•.-_ .:tr*. - r . ..-: : . .7 _-"..-..-*. 
 
 ;.'.i.I: A '' ■ - T ZZr.— i.. 
 
 H._n::- 7'ri 7 7;- 
 ;::vv:.'.-a::: V..'.vv>:-- 
 "i r l_£ty. 7 ?:■•■:•: 
 
 JOH3t HOPPKEE. H. P. 
 
 5 " = :-:va 7^l : . ■ : :: i. 
 EdizitK, 
 
 . : - N : 
 
 ?•' •:.«.--. TEi 7 7 _ e- 
 
 I '.-» L -.: v :n A -.7. :'. 
 
 Raphael. A. R. Dry":: 
 
 -:•-- \'-- 7 
 
 Rodix. Muriel CSolkoi 
 
 Tuexee. 7 
 
 '•A.-.::;.; :■: :- 5- 
 
 Velazdcez. W. Wfll 
 
 : 
 
 7\Sketc 
 
 The Little Galleries 
 
 Demy i6ac#. zs. 6d. net emck t» 
 
 z-z:z •■ ■:'._— r ::.:..::.• :: : .1: — :z 7 r. 
 i. : La ~.i •• ::.-. ::' lie :. :. 
 
 A Little Galleet op Rzyxcliss. 
 
 
 ■ '. - 
 
 
 : ... ".r: 
 
 A Little Galleet < 
 
 H 
 
 A 7 
 
 ■ 
 
 The Little Guides 
 
 V.'.;- ;. -._--.- I„_f.:n::r.£ i ;• Z. H. Ni'.v ani :i-=: iriir.s. i:.i :':::: i::: ;:::'• 
 
 7r.e miir. :"eii_:ei :: uirj-e 7: -J.-: 
 Lri.u:r.i :': . ~ : 7 : : ;-: ~ .5 i" : iv - 
 
 _ .:. 2 '.-_ -i.:z i _i ;: ..■.:-;-. i ::-; 
 zi:_:_ :;_:_:e~. z.y. : z::...z :'.:z~/ 
 
 C&KBtlOGE AXD ITS COLLEGES. A 
 
 C.-iAV •-£_ li a •;- . r ~ ^_ ■ - _ 
 
 Lklsh Laees, Tee. F. G. Biabassu 
 
 I) a handy and charming form ; (2) illos* 
 ova artists; (3) good plans and maps; 
 
 :;"r.;.e;l_:e :: " i„e 1: -<r. :: .-:r:: . ::._i-. i 
 :,_z :.• V% .;-:t. 7-:- 7 C .1 
 7 ' ■:•::•. 3 7-- ::. 
 
 Maltees . ^. R. C A Wiadle. 
 
 • _bs. A T. Stoev. 
 
General Literature 
 
 19 
 
 The Little Guides— continued 
 
 Oxford axd its Colleges. 
 Xin:h Edition. 
 
 J. Wells. 
 
 St. Paul's Cathedral. G. Clinch. 
 
 Shakespeare's Country. B C. A. Windle. 
 Fifth. Edition. 
 
 South Wales. G. W. and J. H. Wade. 
 
 Westminster Abbey. G. E. Troutbeck. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 Berkshire. F. G. Brabant. 
 
 Buckinghamshire. E. S. Roscoe. 
 
 Cheshire. W. M. Gallichan. 
 
 Cornwall A. L. Salmon. Second Edition. 
 
 Derbyshire. J. C. Cox. 
 
 Devon. S. Baring-Gould. Second Edition. 
 
 Dorset. F. R. Heath. Second Edition. 
 
 Durham. J. E. Ho.lgkin. 
 
 Essex. J. C. Cox. 
 
 Hampshire. J. C. Cox. Second Edition. 
 
 Hertfordshire. H. W. Tompkins. 
 
 Kent. G. Clinch. 
 
 Kerry. C. P. Crane. Second Edition. 
 
 Leicestershire and Rutland. A. Harvey 
 and V. B. Crowther-Beynon. 
 
 Middlesex. J. B. Firth. 
 
 Monmouthshire. G. W. Wade and J. II. 
 Wade. 
 
 Norfolk. W. A. Dutt Second Rdii 
 
 Revised. 
 
 NORTHAMri'ONSHlKE. W. Diy. S e :v hhJ 
 
 Revised Edit/on. 
 Northumberland. J. E. Morris. 
 Nottinghamshire. L. Guilford. 
 Oxfordshire. F. G. Brabant. 
 Shropshire. J. E. Auden. 
 
 Somerset. G. W. and J. H. Wade. Second 
 
 Edition. 
 
 Staffordshire. C. Maseficld- 
 
 Suffolk. W. A. Dutt. 
 
 Surrey. J. C. Cox. 
 
 \. F.G.Brabant. Third Edition. 
 
 Wiltshire. F. R. Heath. 
 
 Yorkshire, The East Riding. J. E. 
 Morris. 
 
 Yorkshire, The North Riding. J. E. 
 
 Morris. 
 
 Yorkshire, The West Riding. J. E. 
 
 Morris. Cloth, 35. 6d. net ; La titer, 4J. id. 
 net. 
 
 Brittany. S. Baring-Gould. 
 Normandy. C. Scudamorc. 
 Rome. C. G. Ellaby. 
 Sicily. F. H. Jackson. 
 
 The Little Library 
 
 With Introduction, Notes, and Photogravure Frontispieces 
 Small Poll Svo. Each Volume^ doth, is. 6d. net 
 
 Anon. A LITTLE BOOK OF ENGLISH 
 LYRICS. Second Edition. 
 
 Austen (Jane). PRIDE AND PREJU- 
 DICE. Two Volumes. 
 NORTHANGER ABBEY. 
 
 Bacon (Francis). THE ESSAYS OF 
 LORD BACON. 
 
 Barhara (R. H.). THE INGOLDSBY 
 LEGENDS. Two Volumes. 
 
 Barnett (Annie). A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 ENGLISH PROSE. 
 
 Beckford (William). THE HISTORY OF 
 THE CALIPH VATHEK. 
 
 Elake (William). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE WORKS OF WILLIAM BLAKE. 
 
 Borrow (George). LAVENGRO. Tvjo 
 Volumes. 
 
 THE ROMANY RYE. 
 
 Browning (Robert). SEI.EC'I IONS I I 
 
 THE EARLY POEMS OF RO 
 BROWNING. 
 
 Canning (George). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE ANTI-JACOBIN: With some later 
 Poems by George Canning. 
 
 Cowloy CAbraham). THE ESSAYS OF 
 
 ABRAHAM COWLEY. 
 
20 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 The Little Library — continued 
 
 Crabbe (George). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE POEMS OF GEORGE CRABBE. 
 
 Craik (Mrs.). JOHN HALIFAX, 
 GENTLEMAN. Two Volumes. 
 
 Crashaw (Richard). THE ENGLISH 
 POEMS OF RICHARD CRASH AW. 
 
 Dante Alighieri. THE INFERNO OF 
 DANTE. Translated by H. F. Carv. 
 
 THE PURGATORIO OF DANTE. Trans- 
 lated by H. F. Caky. 
 
 THE PARADISO OF DANTE. Trans- 
 lated by H. F. Cary. 
 
 Darley (George). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE POEMS OF GEORGE DARLEY. 
 
 Deane (A. C.). A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 LIGHT VERSE. 
 
 Dickens (Charles). CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 
 Two Volumes. 
 
 Ferrier (Susan). 
 
 Volumes. 
 THE INHERITANCE. 
 
 MARRIAGE. Two 
 
 Gaskell (Mrs.). 
 Edition. 
 
 Two Volumes. 
 CR AN FORD. Second 
 
 Hawthorne (Nathaniel). THE SCARLET 
 LETTER. 
 
 Henderson (T. F.). A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 SCOTTISH VERSE. 
 
 Kinglake (A. W.). 
 Edition. 
 
 EOTHEN. Second 
 
 Lamb (Charles). ELIA, AND THE LAST 
 ESSAYS OF ELIA. 
 
 Locker (F.). LONDON LYRICS. 
 
 Marvell (Andrew), THE 
 
 ANDREW MARVELL. 
 
 POEMS OB 
 
 Milton (John). THE MINOR POEMS OF 
 JOHN MILTON. 
 
 Moir (D. M.). MANSIE WAUCH. 
 
 Nichols (Bowyer). A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 ENGLISH SONNETS. 
 
 Smith (Horace and James). REJECTED 
 
 ADDRESSES. 
 
 Sterne (Laurence). 
 
 JOURNEY. 
 
 A SENTIMENTAL 
 
 Tennyson (Alfred, Lord). THE EARLY 
 POEMS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNY- 
 SON. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 MAUD. 
 
 Thackeray (W. M.). VANITY FAIR 
 
 Three Volumes. 
 PENDENNIS. Three Volumes. 
 HENRY ESMOND. 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 
 
 Yaughan (Henry). THE 
 HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 POEMS OF 
 
 Y/aterhouse (Elizabeth). A LITTLE 
 BOOK OF LIFE AND DEATH. 
 Thirteenth Edition. 
 
 Wordsworth (W.). SELECTIONS FROM 
 THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDS- 
 WORTH. 
 
 Wordsworth (W.) and Coleridge (S. T.). 
 LYRICAL BALLADS. Second Edition. 
 
 The Little Quarto Shakespeare 
 
 Edited by W. J. CRAIG. With Introductions and Notes 
 
 Pott 167/10. In 40 Volumes. Leather, price is. net each volume. 
 
 Mahogany Revolving Book Case. 10s. net 
 
 Miniature Library 
 
 Demy ^imo. Leather, is. net each volume 
 
 Euphranor : A Dialogue on Youth. Edward 
 FitzGerald. 
 
 The Life of Edward, Lord Herbert of 
 Cherbury. Written by himself. 
 
 Polonius; or, Wise Saws and Modern In- 
 stances. Edward FitzGerald. 
 
 The RubXiyat of Omar KhayyXm. Edward 
 FitzGerald. Fourth Edition. 
 
General Literature 
 
 21 
 
 The New Library of Medicine 
 
 Edited by C. W. SALEEBY. Demy Svo 
 
 Care of the Body, The. F. Cavanagb. 
 Second Edition, js. id net. 
 
 Children of the Nation, The. The Right 
 Hon. Sir John Gorst. Second Edition, 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Control of a Scourge ; or. How Cancer is 
 Curable, The. Chas. P. Childc js. 6d. net. 
 
 Diseases of Occupation. Sir Thos. Oliver. 
 xos. 6d. net. Second Edition. 
 
 Drink Problem, in its Medico-Sociological 
 Aspects, The. Edited by T. N. Kelynack. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Drugs and the Drug Habit. H. Sains- 
 bury. 
 
 Functional Nerve Disease. A. T. Scho- 
 field. js. 6d. net. 
 
 Hygiene of Mind, The. T. S. Clouston. 
 Sixth Edition, js. id. net. 
 
 Infant Mortality. Sir George Newman. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Prevention of Tuberculosis (Consump- 
 tion), The. Arthur Newsholme. \os. id. 
 net. Second Edition. 
 
 Air and Health. Ronald C. Macfie. js. td. 
 net. Second Edition. 
 
 The New Library of Music 
 
 Edited by ERNEST NEWMAN. Illustrated. Demy Svo. 7s. 6d. net 
 
 Second I Handel. R. A. Streatfeild. Second Edition. 
 Hugo Wolf. Ernest Newman. 
 
 Brahms. J. A. Fuller-Maitland. 
 Edition. 
 
 Oxford Biographies 
 
 Illustrated. Fcap. Svo. Each volume, cloth, is. 6d. net ; leather, 3J. 6d. net 
 
 Erasmus. E. F. H. Capey. 
 Robert Burns. T. F. Henderson. 
 Chatham. A. S. McDowall. 
 Francis of Assist. Anna M. Stoddart. 
 
 Dante Alighieri. Paget Toynbee. Third 
 Edition. 
 
 Girolamo Savonarola. E. L. S. Horsburgh. 
 Sixth Edition. 
 
 John Howard. E. C. S. Gibson. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. A. C. Benson. Second 
 Edition. 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh. I. A. Taylor. 
 
 Canning. W. Alison Phillips. 
 Beaconsfield. Walter Sichel. 
 Johann Wolfgang Goethe. H. G. Atkins. 
 Francois de Fenelon. Viscount St. Cyres. 
 
 Four Flays 
 
 Fcap, 8vo. 2s. net 
 
 The Honev.voon. A Comedy :n Three Acts. 
 Ar: old Bennett. Second Eu'iion. 
 
 The Great Adventure. A Play of Fancy in 
 Four Acts. Arnold Bennett. Second Edition. 
 
 Milestones. Arnold Eennett and Edward 
 Knoblauch. Sixth Edition. 
 
 Kismet. Edward Knoblauch. Second Edi- 
 tion. 
 
 The States of Italy 
 
 Edited bv E. ARMSTRONG and R. LANGTON DOUGLAS 
 
 Illustrated. Demy Svo 
 
 A History of Milan under the Sforza. I A History of Verona. 
 Cecilia M. Ady. ios. id. net. 12s. id. net. 
 
 A History of Pekugia. W. Heywood. i2r. id. net. 
 
 A. M. Allen. 
 
22 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 The Westminster Commentaries 
 
 General Editor, WALTER LOCK 
 Demy Svo 
 
 The Acts of the Apostles. Edited by R. 
 B. Rackham. Sixth Edition, ios. 6d. 
 
 The First Epistle of Paul the Apostlb 
 to the Corinthians. Edited by H. L. 
 Goudge. Third Edition. 6s. 
 
 The Book of Exodus. Edited by A. H. 
 M 'Neile. With a Map and 3 Plans, ioy. 6d. 
 
 The Book of Ezekiel. Edited by H. A. 
 Redpath. ios. 6d. 
 
 The Book of Genesis. Edited, with Intro- 
 duction and Notes, byS. R. Driver. Ninth 
 Edition, ios. od. 
 
 Additions and Corrections in the 
 Seventh and Eighth Editions of the 
 Book of Genesis. S. R. Driver, is. 
 
 The Book of the Prophet Isaiah. 
 Edited by G. W. Wade. ios. 6d. 
 
 The Book of Job. Edited by E. C. S. Gib- 
 son. Second Edition, dr. 
 
 The Epistle of St. James. Edited, with 
 Introduction and Notes, by R. J. Knowling. 
 Second Edition. 6s. 
 
 The 
 
 Illustrated. 
 
 * Young' 
 
 The Young Botanist. W. P. Westell and 
 C. S. Cooper. 3.?. 6d. net. 
 
 The Young Carpenter. Cyril Hall. 5s. 
 
 The Young Electrician. Hammond Hall. 
 5*- 
 
 Series 
 
 Crown Svo 
 
 The Young Engineer. Hammond Hall. 
 Third Edition. 5s. 
 
 The Young Naturalist. W. P. Westell. 
 Second Edition. 6s. 
 
 The Young Ornithologist. W. P. WestelL 
 5s. 
 
 Methuen's Shilling Library 
 
 Fcap. Svo. is. net 
 
 Blue Bird, The. 
 
 Maurice Maeterlinck. 
 G. F. 
 
 G. 
 
 Condition of England, The. 
 Masterman. 
 
 De Profundis. Oscar Wilde. 
 
 From Midshipman to Field-Marshal. 
 Sir Evelyn Wood, F.M., V.C. 
 
 Hills and the Sea. Hilaire Belloc. 
 
 *Huxley, Thomas Henry. P. Chalmers- 
 Mitchell. 
 
 Ideal Husband, An. Oscar Wilde. 
 
 Intentions. Oscar Wilde. 
 
 Jimmy Glover, his Book. James M. 
 Glover. 
 
 John Boyes, King of the Wa-Kikuyu. 
 John Boyes. 
 
 Lady Windermere's Fan. Oscar Wilde. 
 
 Letters from a Self-made Merchant 
 to his Son. George Horace Lorimer. 
 
 Life of Jown Ruskin, The. W. G. Colling- 
 wood. 
 
 Life of Robert Louis Stevenson, The. 
 Graham Balfour. 
 
 Life of Tennyson, The. A. C. Eenson. 
 
 Little of Everything, A. E. V. Lucas. 
 
 Lord Arthur Savile's Crime. Oscar Wilde. 
 
 Lore of the Honey-Bee, The. Tickner 
 Edward es. 
 
 Man and the Universe. Sir Oliver Lodge. 
 
 Mary Magdalene. Maurice Maeterlinck. 
 
 Old Country Life. S. Baring-Gould. 
 
 Parish Clerk, The. P. H. Ditchfield. 
 
 Selected Poems. Oscar Wilde. 
 
 Sevastopol, and other Stories. Leo 
 Tolstoy. 
 
 Two Admirals. Admiral John Moresby. 
 
 Under Five Reigns. Lady Dorothy Nevill. 
 
 Vailima Letters. Robert Louis Stevenson. 
 
 Vicar of Morwenstow, The. S. Baring- 
 Gould. 
 
 
General Literature 
 
 23 
 
 Books for Travellers 
 
 Crown 2>vo. 6s. each 
 
 Each volume contains a number of Illustrations in Colour 
 
 A Wanderer in Florence. E. V. Lucas. 
 
 A Wa>tderer in Paris. E. V. Lucas. 
 
 A Wanderer in Holland. E. V. Lucas. 
 
 A Wanderer in London. E. V. Lucas. 
 
 The Norfolk Broads. W. A. Dutt. 
 
 The New Forest. Horace G. Hutchinson. 
 
 Naples. Arthur H. Norway. 
 
 The Cities of Umbria. Edward Hutton. 
 
 The Cities of Spain. Edward Hutton. 
 
 The Cities of Lombardy. Edward Hutton. 
 
 Florence and Northern Tuscany, with 
 Genoa. Edward Hutton. 
 
 Siena and Southern Tuscany. 
 Hutton. 
 
 Edward 
 
 Rome. Edward Hutton. 
 
 Venice and Venetia. Edward Hutton. 
 
 The Bretons at Home. F. M. Gostling. 
 
 The Land of Pardons (Brittany). Anatole 
 Le Braz. 
 
 A Book of the Rhine. S. Baring-Gould. 
 
 The Naples Riviera. H. M. Vaughan. 
 
 Days in Cornwall. C. Lewis Hind. 
 
 Through East Anglia in a Motor Car. 
 J. E. Vincent. 
 
 The Skirts of the Great City. Mrs A. 
 G. Bell. 
 
 Round about Wiltshire. A. G. Bradley. 
 
 Scotland of To-day. T. F. Henderson and 
 Francis Watt. 
 
 Norway and its Fjords. M. A. Wyllie. 
 
 Some Books on Art 
 
 The Armourer and his Craft. Charles 
 ffoulkes. Illustrated. Royal 4*0. £2 2s. 
 net. 
 
 Art and Life. T. Sturge Moore. Illustrated. 
 Cr. Zz'O. $s. net. 
 
 Aims and Ideals in Art. George Clausen. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Large Post 
 %vo. 5s. net. 
 
 Six Lectures on Painting. George Clausen. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Large Post 
 Zvo. 3s. &d- nei ' 
 
 Francesco Guardi, 1712-1793. G. A. 
 Simonson. Illustrated. Imperial tfo. 
 £2 2s. net. 
 
 Illustrations of the Book of Job. 
 William Blake. Quarto. £1 is. net. 
 
 John Lucas, Portrait Painter, 1828-1874. 
 Arthur Lucas. Illustrated. Imperial +to. 
 £3 3s net. 
 
 Old Paste. A. Beresford Ryley. Illustrated. 
 Royal ^to. £2 2s. net. 
 
 One Hundred Masterpieces of Painting. 
 With an Introduction by R. C Witt. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Demylzo. ios.6d. 
 tut. 
 
 The British School. An Anecdotal Guide 
 to the British Painters and Paintings in the 
 National Gallery. E. V. Lucas. Illus- 
 trated. Fcap. %vo. 2S. 6d. net. 
 
 One Hundred Masterpieces of Sculpture. 
 With an Introduction by G. F. Hill. Illus- 
 trated. Demy Svo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 A Romney Folio. With an Essay by A. B. 
 Chamberlain. Imperial Folio. £\-, 15J. 
 net. 
 
 The Saints in Art. Margaret E. Tabor. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 
 3J. 6d. net. 
 
 Schools of Painting. Mary Innes. Illus- 
 trated. Cr. Sro. s s - **£*• 
 
 Celtic Art in Pagan and Christian Times, 
 J. R. Allen. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Demy Zvo. js. 6d, net. 
 
 ' Classics of Art.' See page 14. 
 
 ' The Connoisseur's Library.' See page 15. 
 
 ' Little Books on Art.' See page 18. 
 
 'The Little Gmihrii-s.' See pr>.g« 18. 
 
2 4 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Some Books on Italy 
 
 Etruria and Modern Tuscany, Old. 
 Mary L. Cameron. Illustrated. Secorui 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 Florence : Her History and Art to the Fall 
 of the Republic. F. A. Hyett. Demy Zvo. 
 ys. 6d. net. 
 
 Florence, A Wanderer in. E. V. Lucas. 
 Illustrated. Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Florence and her Treasures. H. M. 
 Vaughan. Illustrated. Fca/>. Zvo. $s. net. 
 
 Florence, Country Walks about. Edward 
 Hutton. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Fcap. Zvo. 5J. net. 
 
 Florence and the Cities of Northern 
 Tuscany, with Genoa. Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Lombardy, The Cities of. Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Milan under the Sforza, A History of. 
 Cecilia M. Ady. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 
 ios. 6d. net. 
 
 Naples : Past and Present. A. H. Norway. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Naples Riviera, The. H. M. Vaughan. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Perugia, A History of. William Heywood. 
 Illustrated. Demy Zvo. \is. 6d. net. 
 
 Rome. Edward Hutton. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Rome. C. G. Ellaby. Illustrated. Small 
 Pott Zvo. Cloth, 2S. 6d. net ; leather, 3s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Roman Pilgrimage, A. R. E. Roberts. 
 Illustrated. Demy Zvo. \os. 6d. net. 
 
 Sicily. F. H. Jackson. Illustrated. Small 
 Pott Zvo. Cloth, is. 6d. net ; leather, 3s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Sicily : The New Winter Resort. Douglas 
 Sladen. Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 5 s. net. 
 
 Siena and Southern Tuscany. Edward 
 Hutton. Illustrated. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Tuscany, In Unknown. Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Second Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 js. 6d. net. 
 
 Umbria, The Cities of. Edward Hutton 
 Illustrated. Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Venice and Venetia. Edward Hutton. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Venice on Foot. H. A. Douglas. Illus- 
 trated. Seco?ul Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 5s. net. 
 
 Venice and her Treasures. H. A. 
 Douglas. Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. $s. net. 
 
 Verona, A History of. A. M. Allen. 
 Illustrated. Demy Zvo. \2S. 6d. net. 
 
 Dante and his Italy. Lonsdale Ragg. 
 Illustrated. Demy Zvo. 12J. 6d. net. 
 
 Dante Alighieri : His Life and Works. 
 Paget Toynbee. Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 5$. 
 net. 
 
 Home Life in Italy. Lina Duff Gordon. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Demy Zvo. 
 1 os. 6d. net. 
 
 Lakes of Northern Italy, The. Richard 
 Bagot. Illustrated. Fcap. Zvo. $s. net. 
 
 Loren/.o the Magnificent. E. L. S. 
 Horsburgh. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 Demy Zvo. 15& net. 
 
 Medici Popes, The. H. M. Vaughan. Illus- 
 trated. Demy Zvo. 15s.net. 
 
 St. Catherine of Siena and her Times. 
 
 By the Author of ' Mc'.lle. Mori.' Illustrated. 
 Second Edition. Demy Zvo. js. 6d. net. 
 
 S. Francis of Assisi, The Lives of. 
 Brother Thomas of Celano. Cr. Zvo. 5s. 
 net. 
 
 Savonarola, Girolamo. E. L. S. Horsburgh. 
 Illustrated. Cr. Zvo. 5J. net. 
 
 Shelley and his Friends in Italy. Helen 
 R. Angeli. Illustrated. Demy Zvo. \os.6d. 
 net. 
 
 Skies Italian : A Little Breviary for Tra- 
 velers in Italy. Ruth S. Phelps. Fcap. Zvo. 
 55. net. 
 
 United Italy. F. M. Underwood. Demy 
 Zvo. 10s. 6d net. 
 
 Woman in Italy. W. Boulting. Illustrated. 
 Demy Zvo. 10s. id. net. 
 
Fiction 
 
 25 
 
 Part III. — A Selection of Works of Fiction 
 
 Aibanesi (E. Maria). SUSANNAH AND 
 
 ONE OTHER. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 THE BROWN EYES OF MARY. Third 
 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 I KNOW A MAIDEN. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE INVINCIELE AMELIA; or, The 
 
 Polite Adventuress. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 3-r. 6d. 
 THE GLAD HEART. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 OLIVIA MARY. Third Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 THE BELOVED ENEMY. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Bagot (Richard). A ROMAN MYSTERY. 
 
 Third Edition Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE PASSPORT. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 ANTHONY CUTHBERT. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 LOVE'S PROXY. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 DONNA DIANA. Second Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 CASTING OF NETS. Twelfth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE HOUSE OF SERRAVALLE. Third 
 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 DARNELEY PLACE. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Bailey (H. C). STORM AND TREASURE. 
 
 Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE LONELY QUEEN. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Baring-Gould (S.). IN THE ROAR OF 
 THE SEA. Eighth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 MARGERY OF QUETHER. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE QUEEN OF LOVE. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 JACQUETTA. Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 KITTY ALONE. Fifth Edition. Cr.Zvo. 6s. 
 
 NOEMI. Illustrated. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE BROOM-SQUIRE. Illustrated. Fifth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 DARTMOOR IDYLLS. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 BLADYS OF THE STEWPONEY. Illus. 
 
 trated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 PABO THE PRIEST. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 WINEFRED. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 ROYAL GEORGIE. Illustrated. Cr.Zvo. 6s. 
 IN DEWISLAND. Second Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 MRS. CURGENVEN OF CURGENVEN. 
 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Barr (Robert). IN THE MIDST OF 
 ALARMS. Third Edition. Cr.Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE COUNTESS TEKLA. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE MUTABLE MANY. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Begbie (Harold). THE CURIOUS AND 
 DIVERTING ADVENTURES OF SIR 
 JOHN SPARROW, Bart. ; ok, The 
 Progress of an Open Mind. Second. 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Belloc (H.). EMMANUEL BURDEN, 
 MERCHANT. Illustrated. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A CHANGE IN THE CABINET. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Bennett (Arnold). CLAYHANGER. 
 
 Eleventh Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE CARD. Ninth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s 
 HILDA LESS WAYS. Seventh Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 BURIED ALIVE. Third Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 A MAN FROM THE NORTH. Third 
 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS. 
 
 Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Benson (E. F.). DODO : A Detail of thb 
 Day Sixteenth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Birmingham (George A.). SPANISH 
 
 GOLD. Sixth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE SEARCH PARTY. Sixth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 LALAGE'S LOVERS. Third Edition. Cr. 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 THE ADVENTURES OF DR. WH1TTY. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
26 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Bowen (Marjorie). I WILL MAINTAIN. 
 
 Eighth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 DEFENDER OF THE FAITH. Sixth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 A KNIGHT OF SPAIN. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE QUEST OF GLORY. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 GOD AND THE KING. Fifth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Clifford (Mrs. W. K.). THE GETTING 
 WELL OF DOROTHY. Illustrated. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. y. 6d. 
 
 Conrad (Joseph). THE SECRET AGENT : 
 A Simple Tale. Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. 
 
 A SET OF SIX. Fourth Edition. Cr.Zvo. 6s. 
 
 UNDER WESTERN EYES. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Conyers (Dorothea). SALLY. 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Fourth 
 
 Corelll (Marie). A ROMANCE OF TWO 
 WORLDS. Thirty-Second Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 VENDETTA ; or, The Story of ohe For- 
 gotten. Thirtieth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. 
 
 THELMA : A Norwegian Princess. 
 Forty-third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 ARDATH : The Story of a Dead Self. 
 Twenty-first Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE SOUL OF LILITH. Seventeenth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 WORMWOOD : A Drama of Paris. 
 Nineteenth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 BARABBAS : A Dream of the World's 
 Tragedy. Forty-sixth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. 
 
 THE SORROWS OF SATAN. Fifty- 
 seventh Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE MASTER-CHRISTIAN. Fourteenth 
 Edition. 179M Thousand. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 TEMPORAL POWER : A Study in 
 Supremacy. Second Edition. i$oth 
 Thousand. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 GOD'S GOOD MAN : A Simple Love 
 Story. Sixteenth Edition. 154M Thou- 
 sand. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 HOLY ORDERS : The Tragedy of a 
 Quiet Life. Second Edition. 120th 
 Thousand. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE MIGHTY ATOM. Twenty-ninth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 BOY : A Sketch. Thirteenth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6*. 
 
 CAMEOS. Fourteenth Edition. Cr. Zvo 
 
 dr. 
 THE LIFE EVERLASTING. Sixth Edi. 
 
 Hon. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Crockett (S. R.). LOCHINVAR. Illus- 
 trated. Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE STANDARD BEARER. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Croker (B. M.). THE OLD CANTON- 
 MENT. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 JOHANNA. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE HAPPY VALLEY. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A NINE DAYS' WONDER. Fourth Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 PEGGY OF THE BARTONS. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 ANGEL. Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 CATHERINE THE ARROGANT. Sixth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 BABES IN THE WOOD. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Doyle (Sir A. Conan). ROUND THE RED 
 LAMP. Twelfth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Drake (Maurice). 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 W0 2 . Fifth Edition. 
 
 Fenn (Q. Manville). SYD BELTON : The 
 Boy who would not go to Sea. Illus- 
 trated. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. js. 6d. 
 
 Findlater(J. H.). THE GREEN GRAVES 
 OF BALGOWRIE. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE LADDER TO THE STARS. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Findlater (Mary). A NARROW WAY. 
 
 Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 THE ROSE OF JOY. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 A BLIND BIRD'S NEST. Illustrated. 
 
 Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Fry (B. and C. B.). A MOTHERS SON. 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Harraden (Beatrice). IN VARYING 
 MOODS. Fourteenth Edition. Cr.Zvo. 6s. 
 
 HILDA STRAFFORD and THE REMIT- 
 TANCE MAN. Twelfth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 INTERPLAY. Fifth Edition. Cr.Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Hauptraann (Gerhart). THE FOOL IN 
 CHRIST. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
Fiction 
 
 PROPHET OF 
 Second Edition. 
 
 Third 
 
 Tenth 
 
 Eighth 
 
 Hlchens (Robert). THE 
 BERKELEY SQUARE. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 TONGUES OF CONSCIENCE, 
 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 FELIX : Three Years m a Life, 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE WOMAN WITH THE FAN. 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 BYEWAYS. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. Twenty- 
 second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE BLACK SPANIEL. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE CALL OF THE BLOOD. Eighth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 BARBARY SHEEP. Second Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. js. 6d. 
 
 THE DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD. 
 Cr. &*>. 6s. 
 
 Hope (Anthony). THE 
 CAR. Eleventh Edition 
 
 GOD IN THE 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 Sixth Edition. Cr. 
 
 A CHANGE OF AIR 
 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A MAN OF MARK, Seventh Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT AN- 
 TONIO. Sixth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 PHROSO. Illustrated. Ninth Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 SIMON DALE. Illustrated. Ninth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE KING'S MIRROR. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. "s. 
 
 QUISANTE. Fourth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE DOLLY DIALOGUES. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 TALES OF TWO PEOPLE. Third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC Illus- 
 trated. Sixth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE GREAT MISS DRIVER. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 MRS. MAXTON PROTESTS. Third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Hutten (Baroness von). THE HALO. 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 'The Inner Shrine' (Author of). THE 
 WILD OLIVE. Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 
 6s. 
 
 THE STREET CALLED STRAIGHT. 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Jacobs (W. W.). MANY CARGOES. 
 Thirty-third Edition. Cr. Zvo. -$s. 6d. 
 Also Illustrated in colour. Demy Zvo. 
 •js. 6d. net. 
 
 27 
 
 Seventeenth Edition. Cr 
 
 SEA URCHINS. 
 Zvo. y. 6d. 
 
 A MASTER OF CRAFT. Illustrated 
 Tenth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 LIGHT FREIGHTS. Illustrated. Eleventh 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 3J. 6d. 
 
 THE SKIPPER'S WOOING. Eleventh 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 AT SUNWICH PORT. Illustrated. Tenth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 DIALSTONE LANE. Illustrated. Eighth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 ODD CRAFT. Illustrated. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 THE LADY OF THE BARGE. Illustrated. 
 Ninth Edition. Cr. Zvo. y. 6d. 
 
 SALTHAVEN. Illustrated. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 3 j. 6d. 
 
 SAILORS' KNOTS. Illustrated. Fifth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. $s. 6d. 
 
 SHORT CRUISES. Third Edition. Cr. 
 Zvo. 3J. 6d. 
 
 James (Henry). 
 
 Third Edition. 
 Lc 
 
 THE GOLDEN BOWL. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 -^(William). THE HUNCHBACK 
 ESTMINSTER. Third Edition. 
 Cr. S j. 6s. 
 
 THE CLOSED BOOK. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 
 Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 BEHIND THE THRONE. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 London (Jack). WHITE FANG. Ninth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Lowndes (Mrs. Belloc). 
 IN THE ARMOUR. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 MARY PECHELL. 
 Zvo. 6s. 
 
 STUDIES IN LOVE AND TERROR. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE CHINK 
 Fourth Edition. 
 
 Second Edition. Cr. 
 
 Lucas (E. Y.). LISTENER'S LURE : An 
 Oblique Narration. Ninth Edition. 
 Fcap. Zvo. 5s. 
 
 OVER BEMERTON'S: An Easy-going 
 Chronicle. Tenth Edition. Fcap. Zvo. 5s. 
 
 MR. INGLES IDE. Ninth Edition. Fcap. 
 Zvo. 5J. 
 
 LONDON LAVENDER Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Lyall (Edna). 
 NOVELIST. 
 3*. 6d. 
 
 DERRICK VAUGHAN. 
 44M Thousand. Cr. Zvo, 
 
23 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 Macnaughtan (S.). THE FORTUNE OF 
 CHRISTINA M'NAB. Sixth Editicm. 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 PETER AND JANE. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Malet (Lucas). A COUNSEL OF PER- 
 FECTION. Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 COLONEL ENDERBY'S WIFE. Sixth 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF SIR RICHARD 
 CALMADY: A Romance. Ninth Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. Sixteenth Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE CARISSIMA. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE GATELESS BARRIER. Fifth Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Mason (A. E. W.). CLEMENTINA. 
 Illustrated. Eighth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Maxwell (W. B.). THE RAGGED MES- 
 SENGER. Third Edition. Cr. Svo. 6j. 
 
 VIVIEN. Twelfth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE GUARDED FLAME. Seventh Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 ODD LENGTHS. Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 6s. 
 
 HILL RISE. Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF MAYBURY: Be- 
 tween You and I. Fourth Edition, Cr. 
 Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE REST CURE. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 Svo. 6s. 
 
 Milne (A. A.). THE DAY'S PLAY. Fourth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 THE HOLIDAY ROUND. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Montague (C. E.). A HIND LET LOOSE. 
 Third Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Morrison (Arthur). TALES OF MEAN 
 STREETS. Seventh Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 A CHILD OF THE JAGO. Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE WALL. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 DIVERS VANITIES. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Ollivant (Alfred). OWD BOB, THE 
 GREY DOG OF KENMUIR. With a 
 Frontispiece. Twelfth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE TAMING OF JOHN BLUNT. 
 Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE ROYAL ROAD. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Onions (Oliver). GOOD BOY SELDOM i 
 A Romance of Advertisement. Secona 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Oppenheim (E. Phillips). MASTER OF 
 MEN. Fifth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE MISSING DELORA. Illustrated. 
 Fourth Edition, Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Orczy (Baroness). FIRE IN STUBBLE 
 Fifth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Oxenham (John). A WEAVER OF 
 
 WEBS. Illustrated. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 
 Svo. 6s. 
 THE GATE OF THE DESERT. Eighth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 PROFIT AND LOSS. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 THE LONG ROAD. Fourth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 THE SONG OF HYACINTH, and Other 
 
 Stories. Second Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 MY LADY OF SHADOWS. Fourth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 LAURISTONS. Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. 
 
 6s. 
 THE COIL OF CARNE. Sixth Edition. 
 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN ROSE 
 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 MARY ALL-ALONE. Third Edition. Cr. 
 
 Svo. 6s. 
 
 Parker (Gilbert). PIERRE AND HIS 
 PEOPLE. Seventh Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 MRS. FALCHION. Fifth Edition. Cr. 
 Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. Illus- 
 trated. Tenth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC : 
 The Stort of a Lost Napoleon. Seventh 
 Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH: 
 The Last Adventures of ' Pretty 
 Pierre.' Fifth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. Illus- 
 trated. Nineteenth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE STRONG: A 
 Romance of Two Kingdoms. Illustrated. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES, 
 Third Edition. Cr. Svo. y. 6d. 
 
 NORTHERN LIGHTS. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
 Pasture (Mrs. Henry de la). THE 
 TYRANT. Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. 6s. 
 
Fiction 
 
 29 
 
 Pemberton (Max). THE FOOTSTEPS 
 OF A THRONE. Illustrated. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 I CROWN THEE KING. Illustrated. Cr. 
 Bvo. 6s. 
 
 LOVE THE HARVESTER : A Story of 
 the Shires. Illustrated. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 3J. 6d. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GREEN 
 HEART. Fifth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Perrin (Alice). THE CHARM. Fifth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE ANGLO-INDIANS. Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Phillpotts (Eden). LYING PROPHETS. 
 
 Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 CHILDREN OF THE MIST. Sixth 
 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE HUMAN BOY. With a Frontispiece. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 SONS OF THE MORNING. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE RIVER. Fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 THE AMERICAN PRISONER. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 KNOCK AT A VENTURE. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE PORTREEVE. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE POACHER'S WIFE. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE STRIKING HOURS. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 DEMETER'S DAUGHTER. Third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Pickthall (Marmaduke). SAID, THE 
 FISHERMAN. Eighth Edition. Cr. &vo. 
 6s. 
 
 <Q'(A. T. Quiller-Couch). THE MAYOR 
 OF TROY. Fourth Editian. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 MERRY-GARDEN and other Stories. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 MAJOR VIGOUREUX. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Ridge (W. Pett). ERB. Second Edition. 
 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 A SON OF THE STATE. Third Edition. 
 
 Cr. Bvo. 2 s - £d~ 
 A BREAKER OF LAWS. A New Edition. 
 
 Cr. Bvo. t,s. 6d. 
 
 MRS. GALER'S BUSINESS. Illustrated. 
 Second hdition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE WICKHAxMSES. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 SPLENDID BROTHER. Fourth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 NJNE TO SIX-THIRTY. TUrd Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THANKS TO SANDERSON. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 DEVOTED SPARKES. Second Edition 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Rassell (W. Clark). MASTER ROCKA- 
 FELLAR'S VOYAGE. Illustrated. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Cr. Bvo. is. 6d. 
 
 Sidgvvick (Mrs. Alfred). THE KINS- 
 MAN. Illustrated. Third Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE LANTERN-BEARERS. Third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE SEVERINS. Sixth Edition. Cr. Bvo. 
 6s. 
 
 ANTHEA'S GUEST. Fourth Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. 6s. 
 
 LAMORNA. Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Snaith (J. C.). THE PRINCIPAL GIRL. 
 
 Second Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 AN AFFAIR OF STATE. Second Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 SomeryiUe (E. CE.) and Ross (Martin). 
 DAN RUSSEL THE FOX. Illustrated. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Thurston (E. Temple). MIRAGE. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Watson (H. B. Marriott). ALISE OF 
 ASTRA. Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE BIG FISH. Third Edition. Cr. Bvo. 
 6s. 
 
 Webling (Peggy). THE STORY OF 
 VIRGINIA PERFECT. Third Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF MIRTH. Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. Bvo. (s. 
 
 FELIX CHRISTIE. TJtird Edition. Cr. 
 Bvo. 6s. 
 
 THE PEARL STRINGER. Second Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Weyman (Stanley). UNDER THE RED 
 ROBE. Illustrated. Twenty-third Edi- 
 tion. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Whitby (Beatrice). ROSAMUND. Second 
 Edition. Cr. Bvo. 6s. 
 
 Williamson (C. N. and A. M.). THE 
 LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR : The 
 Strai ge Adventures of a Motor Car. Illus- 
 trated. Twenty-first Edition, Cr. Bvo. ts. 
 A Iso Cr. Bvo. is. net. 
 
30 
 
 Methuen and Company Limited 
 
 THE PRINCESS PASSES: A Romance 
 of A Motor. Illustrated. Ninth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. net. 
 
 LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER. 
 
 Eleventh Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE BOTOR CHAPERON. Illustrated. 
 Eighth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE CAR OF DESTINY. Illustrated. 
 Seventh Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR. Illus- 
 trated. Twelfth Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 SCARLET RUNNER. Illustrated. Third 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 SET IN SILVER. Illustrated. Fourth 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS 
 AMERICA. Second Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s 
 
 THE GOLDEN SILENCE. Sixth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE GUESTS OF HERCULES. Thira 
 Edition. Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE HEATHER MOON. Fifth Edition. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 THE LOVE PIRATE. 
 Cr. Zvo. 6s. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 
 Y/yllarda (Dolf). THE PATHWAY OF 
 THE PIONEER (Nous Autres). Sixth 
 Edition. Cr. Zve. 6s. 
 
 Methuen's Two-Shilling Novels 
 
 Crown &vo. 2s. net 
 
 Botor Chaperon, The. C. N. and A. M. 
 
 Williamson. 
 
 Call of the Blood, The. Robert Hichens. 
 
 Card, The. Arnold Bennett. 
 
 Clementina. A. E. W. Mason. 
 
 Colonel Enderbv's Wife. Lucas Malet. 
 
 Felix. Robert Hicbens. 
 
 Gate of the Desert, The. John Oxenham. 
 
 My Friend the Chauffeur. C. N. and 
 A. M. Williamson. 
 
 Mystery of the Green Heart, The. Max 
 Pemberton. 
 
 Old Gorgon Graham. G. H. Lorimer. 
 
 Princess Virginia, The. C. N and A. M. 
 Williamson. 
 
 Search Party, The. G. A. Birmingham. 
 
 Seats of the Mighty, The. Sir Gilbert 
 Parker. 
 
 Servant of the Public, A. Anthony 
 Hope. 
 
 Set in Silver. C. N. and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 Severins, The. Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick. 
 
 Sir Richard Calmady. Lucas Malet. 
 
 Vivien. W. B. Maxwell. 
 
 Books for Boys and Girls 
 
 Getting Well of Dorothy, The. 
 W. K. Clifford. 
 
 Girl of the People, A. L. T. Meade. 
 
 Hepsy Gipsy. L. T. Meade. 2s. 6d. 
 
 Honourable Miss, The. L. T. Meade. 
 
 Master Rockafellar's Voyage. W. Clark 
 Russell. 
 
 Illustrated. Crown Zvo. 35. 6d. 
 Mrs. 
 
 :dith E. 
 Red Grange, The. Mrs. Molesworth. 
 
 Only a Guard-Room Dog. 
 Cuthell. 
 
 Syd Belton : The Boy who would not go 
 to Sea. G. Manville Fenn. 
 
 There was once a Prince. Mrs. M. E. 
 Mann. 
 
Fiction 
 
 Methuen's Shilling NoYels 
 
 Fcap. Svo. is. net 
 
 Anna of the Five Towns. Arnold Bennett. 
 
 Barbary Sheep. Robert Hichens. 
 
 Charm, The. Alice Perrin. 
 
 Dan Russel the Fox. E. CE. Somerville 
 and Martin Ross. 
 
 Demon, The. C. N. and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 Fire in Stubble. Baroness Orczy. 
 
 Guarded Flame, The. W. B. Maxwell. 
 
 Hill Rise. W. B. Maxwell. 
 
 Jane. Marie Corelli. 
 
 Joseph in Jeopardy. Frank Danby. 
 
 Lady Betty Across the Water. C. N. 
 and A. M. Williamson. 
 
 Light Freights. W. W. Jacobs. 
 
 Long Road, The. John Oxenham. 
 
 Mighty Atom, The. Marie Corelii. 
 
 Mirage. E. Temple Thurston. 
 
 Missing Delora, The. E. Phillips Oppen 
 heim. 
 
 Round the Red Lamp. Sir A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 Said, the Fisherman. Marmaduke Pick- 
 thall. 
 
 Secret Woman, The. Eden Phillpotts. 
 
 Severins, The. Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick. 
 
 Spanish Gold. G. A. Birmingham. 
 
 Splendid Brother. W. Pett Ridge. 
 
 Tales of Mean Streets. Arthur Morrison. 
 
 Halo, The. Baroness von Hutten. 
 
 Tyrant, The. Mrs. Henry de la Pasture. 
 
 Under the Red Rose. Stanley J. Weyman. 
 
 Virginia Perfect. Peggy Webling. 
 
 Woman with the Fan, The. Robert 
 Hichens. 
 
 Methuen's Sevenpenny Novels 
 
 Fcap. &vo. id. net 
 ANGEL. B. M. Croker. 
 
 PRINCE RUPERT THE BUCCANEER. C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne, 
 I CROWN THEE KING. Max Pemberton. 
 THE BROOM SQUIRE. S. Baring-Gould. 
 LONE PINE. R. B. Townshend. 
 THE SIGN OF THE SPIDER. Bertram Mitford. 
 MASTER OF MEN. E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES. Sir Gilbert Parker. 
 THE HUMAN BOY. Eden Phillpotts. 
 BY STROKE OF SWORD. Andrew Balfour. 
 
 Printed by Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, 
 BERKELEY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 Books not returned on time are subject to a fine of 
 50c per volume after the third day overdue, increasing 
 to $1.00 per volume after the sixth day. Books not in 
 demand may be renewed if application is made before 
 expiration of loan period. 
 
 ftMR£4 
 
 Mar 2> 
 
 I9?f 
 
 17 ,3 ° u 
 
 JUL 
 
 9 
 
 'S3} t 
 
 20m- 1/22 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY