She found Neeland alone in the music-room, standing4 in the attitude of the conventional Englishman with his back to the fireless grate and his hands clasped loosely behind him, waiting to be led out and fed.
The direct glance of undisguised admiration5 with which he greeted the Princess Naïa confirmed the impression she herself had received from her mirror, and brought an additional dash of colour into her delicate brunette face.
“Is there any doubt that you are quite the prettiest objet d’art in Paris?” he enquired6 anxiously, taking her hand; and her dark eyes were very friendly as he saluted7 her finger-tips with the reverent8 and slightly exaggerated appreciation9 of a connoisseur10 in sculpture.
“You hopeless Irishman,” she laughed. “It’s fortunate for women that you’re never serious, even with yourself.”
“Princess Naïa,” he remonstrated11, “can nothing short of kissing you convince you of my sincerity12 and––”
“Impudence?” she interrupted smilingly. “Oh, yes, I’m convinced, James, that, lacking other material, you’d make love to a hitching14 post.”326
His hurt expression and protesting gesture appealed to the universe against misinterpretation, but the Princess Mistchenka laughed again unfeelingly, and seated herself at the piano.
“Some day,” she said, striking a lively chord or two, “I hope you’ll catch it, young man. You’re altogether too free and easy with your feminine friends.... What do you think of Rue15 Carew?”
“When you do, you’ll talk nonsense to the child, I suppose.”
“Princess! Have I ever––”
“You talk little else, dear friend, when God sends a pretty fool to listen!” She looked up at him from the keyboard over which her hands were nervously19 wandering. “I ought to know,” she said; “I also have listened.” She laughed carelessly, but her glance lingered for an instant on his face, and her mirth did not sound quite spontaneous to either of them.
Two years ago there had been an April evening after the opera, when, in taking leave of her in her little salon20, her hand had perhaps retained his a fraction of a second longer than she quite intended; and he had, inadvertently, kissed her.
He had thought of it as a charming and agreeable incident; what the Princess Naïa Mistchenka thought of it she never volunteered. But she so managed that he never again was presented with a similar opportunity.
Perhaps they both were thinking of this rather ancient episode now, for his face was touched with a mischievously21 reminiscent smile, and she had lowered her head a trifle over the keyboard where her slim, ivory-tinted 327hands still idly searched after elusive22 harmonies in the subdued23 light of the single lamp.
“There’s a man dining with us,” she remarked, “who has the same irresponsible and casual views on life and manners which you entertain. No doubt you’ll get along very well together.”
“Who is he?”
“A Captain Sengoun, one of our attachés. It’s likely you’ll find a congenial soul in this same Cossack whom we all call Alak.” She added maliciously24: “His only logic25 is the impulse of the moment, and he is known as Prince Erlik among his familiars. Erlik was the Devil, you know––”
He was announced at that moment, and came marching in—a dark, handsome, wiry young man with winning black eyes and a little black moustache just shadowing his short upper lip—and a head shaped to contain the devil himself—the most reckless looking head, Neeland thought, that he ever had beheld26 in all his life.
But the young fellow’s frank smile was utterly27 irresistible28, and his straight manner of facing one, and of looking directly into the eyes of the person he addressed in his almost too perfect English, won any listener immediately.
He bowed formally over Princess Naïa’s hand, turned squarely on Neeland when he was named to the American, and exchanged a firm clasp with him. Then, to the Princess:
“I am late? No? Fancy, Princess—that great booby, Izzet Bey, must stop me at the club, and I exceedingly pressed to dress and entirely29 out of humour with all Turks. ‘Eh bien, mon vieux!’ said he in his mincing30 manner of a nervous pelican31, ‘they’re warming up the Balkan boilers32 with Austrian pine. But I hear 328they’re full of snow.’ And I said to him: ‘Snow boils very nicely if the fire is sufficiently34 persistent35!’ And I think Izzet Bey will find it so!”—with a quick laugh of explanation to Neeland: “He meant Russian snow, you see; and that boils beautifully if they keep on stoking the boiler33 with Austrian fuel.”
“What schoolboy repartée! Why did you answer him at all, Alak?”
“Well,” explained the attaché, “as I was due here at eight I hadn’t time to take him by the nose, had I?”
“I’m so sorry to be late!”—turned to smile at Neeland, then offered her hand to the Russian. “How do you do, Prince Erlik?” she said with the careless and gay cordiality of old acquaintance. “I heard you say something about Colonel Izzet Bey’s nose as I came in.”
Captain Sengoun bowed over her slender white hand:
“The Mohammedan nose of Izzet Bey is an admirable bit of Oriental architecture, Miss Carew. Why should it surprise you to hear me extol38 its bizarre beauty?”
“Anyway,” said the girl, “I’m contented39 that you left devilry for revelry.” And, Marotte announcing dinner, she took the arm of Captain Sengoun as the Princess took Neeland’s.
Like all Russians and some Cossacks, Prince Alak ate and drank as though it were the most delightful40 experience in life; and he did it with a whole-souled heartiness41 and satisfaction that was flattering to any hostess and almost fascinating to anybody observing him.
His teeth were even and very white; his appetite 329splendid: when he did his goblet42 the honour of noticing it at all, it was to drain it; when he resumed knife and fork he used them as gaily43, as gracefully, and as thoroughly44 as he used his sabre on various occasions.
He had taken an instant liking45 to Neeland, who seemed entirely inclined to return it; and he talked a great deal to the American but with a nice division of attention for the two ladies on either side.
“You know, Alak,” said the Princess, “you need not torture yourself by trying to converse46 with discretion47; because Mr. Neeland knows about many matters which concern us all.”
“Ah! That is delightful! And indeed I was already quite assured of Mr. Neeland’s intelligent sympathy in the present state of European affairs.”
“He’s done a little more than express sympathy,” remarked the Princess; and she gave a humorous outline of Neeland’s part in the affair of the olive-wood box.
“Fancy!” exclaimed Captain Sengoun. “That impudent48 canaille! Yes; I heard at the Embassy what happened to that accursed box this morning. Of course it is a misfortune, but as for me, personally, I don’t care––”
“It doesn’t happen to concern you personally, Prince Erlik,” said Princess Naïa dryly.
“No,” he admitted, unabashed by the snub, “it does not touch me. Cavalry49 cannot operate on the Gallipoli Peninsula. Therefore, God be thanked, I shall be elsewhere when the snow boils.”
“And that is an excellent idea, is it not, Kazatchka?” 330he said, smiling impudently52 at the Princess, who only laughed at the familiarity.
“I hope,” added Captain Sengoun, “that I may live to gallop53 through a few miles of diplomacy at full speed before they consign54 me to the Opolchina.” Turning to Neeland, “The reserve—the old man’s home, you know. God forbid!” And he drained his goblet and looked defiantly55 at Rue Carew.
“A Cossack is a Cossack,” said the Princess, “be he Terek or Kuban, Don or Astrachan, and they all know as much about diplomacy as Prince Erlik—or Izzet Bey’s nose.... James, you are unusually silent, dear friend. Are you regretting those papers?”
“It’s a pity,” he said. But he had not been thinking of the lost papers; Rue Carew’s beauty preoccupied56 him. The girl was in black, which made her skin dazzling, and reddened the chestnut57 colour of her hair.
Her superb young figure revealed an unsuspected loveliness where the snowy symmetry of neck and shoulders and arms was delicately accented by the filmy black of her gown.
He had never seen such a beautiful girl; she seemed more wonderful, more strange, more aloof58 than ever. And this was what preoccupied and entirely engaged his mind, and troubled it, so that his smile had a tendency to become indefinite and his conversation mechanical at times.
Captain Sengoun drained one more of numerous goblets59; gazed sentimentally60 at the Princess, then with equal sentiment at Rue Carew.
“As for me,” he said, with a carelessly happy gesture toward the infinite, “plans are plans, and if they’re stolen, tant pis! But there are always Tartars in Tartary and Turks in Turkey. And, while there are, 331there’s hope for a poor devil of a Cossack who wants to say a prayer in St. Sophia before he’s gathered to his ancestors.”
“Have any measures been taken at your Embassy to trace the plans?” asked Neeland of the Princess.
“Of course,” she said simply.
“Plans,” remarked Sengoun, “are not worth the tcherkeske of an honest Caucasian! A Khirgize pony61 knows more than any diplomat62; and my magaika is better than both!”
“All the same,” said Rue Carew, “with those stolen plans in your Embassy, Prince Erlik, you might even gallop a sotnia of your Cossacks to the top of Achi-Baba.”
“There are dongas,” observed the Princess dryly.
“I know it. There are dongas every twenty yards; and Turkish gorse that would stop a charging bull! My answer is, mount! trot64! gallop! and hurrah65 for Achi-Baba!”
“Very picturesque66, Alak. But wouldn’t it be nicer to be able to come back again and tell us all about it?”
“As for that,” he said with his full-throated, engaging laugh, “no need to worry, Princess, for the newspapers would tell the story. What is this Gallipoli country, anyway, that makes our Chancellery wag its respected head and frown and whisper in corners and take little notes on its newly laundered67 cuffs68?
“I know the European and Asiatic shores with their forts—Kilid Bahr, Chimilik, Kum Kale, Dardanos. I know what those Germans have been about with their barbed wire and mobile mortar69 batteries. What do we want of their plans, then––”332
“Nothing, Prince Erlik!” said Rue, laughing. “It suffices that you be appointed adviser70 in general to his majesty71 the Czar.”
Sengoun laughed with all his might.
“And an excellent thing that would be, Miss Carew. What we need in Russia,” he added with a bow to the Princess, “are, first of all, more Kazatchkee, then myself to execute any commands with which my incomparable Princess might deign72 to honour me.”
“Then I command you to go and smoke cigarettes in the music-room and play some of your Cossack songs on the piano for Mr. Neeland until Miss Carew and I rejoin you,” said the Princess, rising.
At the door there was a moment of ceremony; then Sengoun, passing his arm through Neeland’s with boyish confidence that his quickly given friendship was welcome, sauntered off to the music-room where presently he was playing the piano and singing some of the entrancing songs of his own people in a voice that, cultivated, might have made a fortune for him:
“We are but horsemen,
And God is great.
The fierce Kerait,
Naiman and Eighur,
Tartar and Khiounnou,
Flee at our view-halloo;
We are but horsemen
Where wild men hide—
Mongol and Baïaghod,
Turkoman, Taïdjigod,
333The skies are blue,
The plains are wide,
Still echoing the wild air, and playing with both hands in spite of the lighted cigarette between his fingers, he glanced over his shoulder at Neeland:
“A very old, old song,” he explained, “made in the days of the great invasion when all the world was fighting anybody who would fight back. I made it into English. It’s quite nice, I think.”
His naïve pleasure in his own translation amused Neeland immensely, and he said that he considered it a fine piece of verse.
“Yes,” said Sengoun, “but you ought to hear a love song I made out of odd fragments I picked up here and there. I call it ‘Samarcand’; or rather ‘Samarcand Mahfouzeh,’ which means, ‘Samarcand the Well Guarded’:
“‘Outside my guarded door
Whose voice repeats my name?’
‘The voice thou hast heard before
Under the white moon’s flame!
And thy name is my song; and my song is ever the same!’
Have sung the song you sing?
Some by an arrow were sped;
Some by a dagger’s sting.’
‘Like a bird in the night is my song—a bird on the wing!’
“‘Ahmed and Yucouf bled!
A dead king blocks my door!’
‘If thy halls and walls be red,
Shall Samarcand ask more?
334
“‘Now hast thou conquered me!
My soul escapes to thee;
My body here must lie;
Ride!—with thy song, and my soul in thy arms; and let me die.’”
Sengoun, still playing, flung over his shoulder:
“A Tartar song from the Turcoman. I borrowed it and put new clothes on it. Nice, isn’t it?”
“Enchanting!” replied Neeland, laughing in spite of himself.
Rue Carew, with her snowy shoulders and red-gold hair, came drifting in, consigning82 them to their seats with a gesture, and giving them to understand that she had come to hear the singing.
So Sengoun continued his sketchy83, haphazard84 recital85, waving his cigarette now and then for emphasis, and conversing86 frequently over his shoulder while Rue Carew leaned on the piano and gravely watched his nimble fingers alternately punish and caress87 the keyboard.
After a little while the Princess Mistchenka came in saying that she had letters to write. They conversed88, however, for nearly an hour before she rose, and Captain Sengoun gracefully accepted his congé.
“I’ll walk with you, if you like,” suggested Neeland.
“With pleasure, my dear fellow! The night is beautiful, and I am just beginning to wake up.”
“Ask Marotte to give you a key, then,” suggested the Princess, going. At the foot of the stairs, however, she paused to exchange a few words with Captain Sengoun in a low voice; and Neeland, returning with his latchkey, went over to where Rue stood by the lamplit table absently looking over an evening paper.335
As he came up beside her, the girl lifted her beautiful, golden-grey eyes.
“Are you going out?”
“Yes, I thought I’d walk a bit with Captain Sengoun.”
“It’s rather a long distance to the Russian Embassy. Besides––” She hesitated, and he waited. She glanced absently over the paper for a moment, then, not raising her eyes: “I’m—I—the theft of that box today—perhaps my nerves have suffered a little—but do you think it quite prudent89 for you to go out alone at night?”
“Why, I am going out with Captain Sengoun!” he said, surprised at her troubled face.
“But you will have to return alone.”
He laughed, but they both had flushed a little.
Had it been any other woman in the world, he had not hesitated gaily to challenge the shy and charming solicitude90 expressed in his behalf—make of it his capital, his argument to force that pretty duel91 to which one day, all youth is destined92.
He found himself now without a word to say, nor daring to entertain any assumption concerning the words she had uttered.
Dumb, awkward, afraid, he became conscious that something in this young girl had silenced within him any inclination93 to gay effrontery94, any talent for casual gallantry. Her lifted eyes, with their clear, half shy regard, had killed all fluency95 of tongue in him—slain utterly that light good-humour with which he had encountered women heretofore.
He said:
“I hadn’t thought myself in any danger whatever. Is there any reason for me to expect further trouble?”336
Rue raised her troubled eyes:
“Has it occurred to you that they might think you capable of redrawing parts of the stolen plans from memory?”
“It had never occurred to me,” he admitted, surprised. “But I believe I could remember a little about one or two of the more general maps.”
“The Princess means to ask you, tomorrow, to draw for her what you can remember. And that made me think about you now—whether the others might not suspect you capable of remembering enough to do them harm.... And so—do you think it prudent to go out tonight?”
“Yes,” he replied, quite sincerely, “it is all right. You see I know Paris very well.”
She did not look convinced, but Sengoun came up and she bade them both good night and went away with the Princess Mistchenka.
As, arm in arm, the two young men sauntered around the corner of the rue Soleil d’Or, two men who had been sitting on a marble bench beside the sun-dial fountain rose and strolled after them.
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1
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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14
hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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15
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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26
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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27
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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pelican
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| n.鹈鹕，伽蓝鸟 | |
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boilers
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| 锅炉，烧水器，水壶( boiler的名词复数 ) | |
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boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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extol
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| v.赞美，颂扬 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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heartiness
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| 诚实，热心 | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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48
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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50
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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51
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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impudently
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53
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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54
consign
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| vt.寄售（货品），托运，交托，委托 | |
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55
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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56
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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57
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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59
goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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61
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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63
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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65
hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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67
laundered
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| v.洗（衣服等），洗烫（衣服等）( launder的过去式和过去分词 )；洗（黑钱）（把非法收入改头换面，变为貌似合法的收入） | |
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68
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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69
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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71
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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fen
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| n.沼泽，沼池 | |
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leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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75
cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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fens
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| n.（尤指英格兰东部的）沼泽地带( fen的名词复数 ) | |
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78
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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cleanse
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| vt.使清洁，使纯洁，清洗 | |
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80
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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81
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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82
consigning
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的现在分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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83
sketchy
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| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
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84
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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86
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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90
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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91
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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92
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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