CHAPTER II
At the end of the second Carlist war a Spanish officer, Don MiguelSaldana, had found himself, as a result of the defeat, banished foreverfrom his own country and condemned to a life of poverty and obscurity.The Madrid papers, without prefixing his name with any slanderousadjectives, called him simply "the rebel chief Saldana." This courtesy,doubtless, was intended to distinguish him from the other party chiefswho in Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia, had waged a campaign of pillageand executions for five years. Among his own people he was known asGeneral Miguel Saldana, Marquis of Villablanca. The pretender, DonCarlos, had given him that title because Villablanca was the name of thetown where Saldana had practically annihilated a column of the Liberalarmy. The topographical information of Saldana's Chief of Staff--a localpriest who had spent his whole life in doing nothing except saying masson Sundays and spending the rest of the week hunting in the mountainswith his dog and gun--gave him an opportunity to take the enemy bysurprise, and he won a notorious victory.
When he crossed the frontier as a fugitive, through refusing torecognize the Bourbons as the constitutional rulers, "the rebel chiefSaldana" was twenty-nine years of age. A second son in a proud andruined family, he had been obliged to resist the traditions of his housewhich presented for him an ecclesiastical career. When his studies atthe Military School at Toledo were just finishing, the Revolution of1868 caused him to renounce a commission to escape being under ordersfrom certain generals who had participated in overthrowing royalty.When Don Carlos took up arms, Saldana was one of the first to volunteerhis services; and having gone through a military school, and received agood education, he at once became conspicuous among the guerrillas ofthe so-called Army of the Center, made up, for the most part, of countrysquires, village clerks, and mountain priests.
Besides, Saldana distinguished himself for a reckless though ratherunfortunate bravery. He always led the attack at the head of his men andconsequently was wounded in the majority of his fights. But his woundswere "lucky wounds" as the soldiers say. They left marks of glory on hisbody without destroying his vigorous health.
Finding himself alone in Paris, where his only resource was theadmiration of a few elderly "legitimist" ladies of the aristocraticFaubourg Saint Germain, he left for Vienna. There his king had friendsand relatives. His youth and his exploits gained him admission as a heroof the old monarchy to the circle of archdukes. The war between Russiaand Turkey tore him away from his pleasant life as an interestinghanger-on. Being a fighting man and a Catholic, he felt it his duty towage war against the Turks; and with recommendations as a protege ofsome influential Austrians, he went to the Court at Saint Petersburg.General Saldana became a mere Commander of a Squadron in the RussianCavalry. The officers conversed with him in French. His horsemenunderstood him well enough when he placed himself in front of hisdivision, and, unsheathing his sword, galloped ahead of them against theenemy.
Various successful charges and two more "lucky wounds" won him a certaincelebrity. At the end of the war he had gained numerous friends amongofficers of the nobility, and was presented in the most aristocraticdrawing rooms. One evening at a ball given by a Grand Duchess, he sawclose at hand the most fashionable and most talked of young woman of theseason: the Princess Lubimoff.
She was twenty-two, an orphan, with a fortune said to be one of thelargest in Russia. The first to bear the title of Prince Lubimoff, apoor but handsome Cossack, unable to read or write, succeeded in winningthe attention of the Great Catherine, who made him the favorite amongher lovers of second rank. During the years that her imperial capricelasted, the new Prince was forced to seek his fortune far from theCourt, since the favorites before him had gained possession of all thatwas near at hand. The Czarina allowed him to make his selection on themap of her immense Empire; distant territories beyond the Urals, whichthe new proprietor was, like the majority of his successors, never tosee. With the introduction of the railroad, enormous riches came tolight in these lands chosen by the Cossack; in some, veins of platinumwere discovered; in others, quarries of malachite, deposits of lapislazuli, and rich oil wells. Besides, tens of thousands of serfs,recently freed by the Czar, continued to work the land for the Lubimoffheirs, just as they had before the emancipation. And all this immensefortune, which nearly doubled each year with new discoveries, belongedentirely to one woman, the young Princess, who considered herself as oneof the Imperial family owing to the relationship of her ancestor, andhad more than once given the sovereign cause for worry through theeccentricities of her character.
She was an aggressive young woman, capricious and inconsistent in bothwords and deeds, a puzzle to everyone through the sharp contradictionsin her conduct. She mingled with the officers of the Guard, treatingthem as comrades, smoking and drinking with them and taking a hand intheir exercises in horsemanship; and then suddenly she would shutherself up in her palace for whole weeks, on her knees most of the time,before the holy ikons, absorbed in mystic fervor, and loudly imploringthe forgiveness of her sins. She looked on the Emperor with veneration,as the representative of God. At the same time she was known tosympathize with the Nihilists.
The courtiers were scandalized whenever they told how she hadaccompanied a girl, whom the police were watching to a wretched house onthe outskirts of the capital, and had there mingled with therevolutionary rabble composed of workmen and students. With them she hadentered a narrow room, and joined the line passing before a coffin thatwas constantly in danger of being upset by the pushing of the gloomycurious crowd. The dead man's name was Fedor Dostoiewsky. The princesshad scattered a bouquet of the most costly roses on the protrudingforehead and monkish beard of the novelist.
And in her moments of anger this same Nadina Lubimoff beat the servantsin her Palace, as though they were still serfs, and forced her maids togrovel at her feet. Her irritability and fiery temper turned everythingupside down, to such an extent that a certain elderly Prince, who byImperial order had been chosen as her guardian, desired, in spite of thefact that it would mean to him loss of the management of an immensefortune, to see her married as soon as possible.
Nadina Lubimoff inspired a feeling of dread in her suitors. They wereall afraid that she would answer their request for her hand with a crueljest. Twice she had announced her engagement to gentlemen of the Court,and at the last moment she herself had begged the Czar to refuse hisconsent. By this time no one dared propose, for fear of laughter andcomment. Yet in spite of the freedom and unconventionality of herconduct, no one doubted the uprightness of her character.
On seeing her, Saldana thought of a naiad of the North, rising from anemerald river, in which cakes of ice were floating. She was tall andmajestic, with a somewhat massive figure, like the divinities painted infrescos for ceilings. Her skin was of radiant whiteness. The pupils ofher gray eyes gave out a greenish light, and her silky hair was a fadedwashed-out red. Owing to the marvelous whiteness of her complexion, herflesh appeared somewhat soft, but a fresh fragrance emanated from it,"the fragrance of running brooks," to use the words of her admirers. Hernostrils were rather wide, and in the stress of emotion they quivered,like those of a horse, thus recalling her glorious ancestor, the virileCossack of the Czarina.
The ball was nearly over before she noticed the Spaniard. There were somany officers constantly at her heels, greeting her cruel jokes andvulgar expressions with a smile of gratitude!--Suddenly Saldana, who wasstanding between two doorways, was startled by a clear but commandingfemale voice.
"Your arm, Marquis."
And before he could offer it to her the young Princess took it, and ledhim off to the buffet in the drawing room.
Nadina drank a good sized glass of vodka, preferring this liquor of thepeople to the champagne which the servants were pouring out in largequantities. Then smiling at her companion she drew him into theembrasure of a window where they were almost hidden by the curtains.
"Your wounds!... I want to see your wounds!"
Saldana was dumfounded at the command of t
his great lady accustomed tocarrying out her most whimsical ideas. Blushing like a soldier, who hadlived all his life among men, he finally drew up the left sleeve of hisuniform, revealing a brown, hairy forearm, with large tendons, anddeeply furrowed by the scar of a bullet wound received back in Spain.
The Princess admired his athletic arm, with its dark skin, cut by thejagged white of the new tissue.
"The other--the others! I want to see the rest of them!" she commanded,gazing at him fiercely, as though she were ready to bite, while herlips, moist and shining, curved sharply downward.
She had seized his arm with a hand that trembled, while with the othershe tried to undo the gold cords on the officer's breast.
Saldana drew back, stammering. "Oh! Princess!" What she desired wasimpossible. It was impossible to show the other wounds to a lady....
He felt on the one visible scar the contact of two lips. Nadina, bowingher proud head, was kissing his arm.
"Hero!... Oh! my hero!"
Immediately afterward she drew herself up again, cold and distant, withno other sign of emotion than a slight quivering of her nostrils. Nolonger was she tormented by the desire to see immediately thosefrightful scars of which she had heard from some of the comrades of thebrave adventurer. She was sure of being able to see them to her heart'scontent whenever she pleased.
In a few days the rumor began to circulate that the Princess Lubimoffwas to be married to the Spaniard. She herself had started the newsgoing, without bothering to ascertain beforehand the inclination of herfuture husband.
The arguments with which she justified her decision could not have beenmore weighty. She was blond and Saldana was dark. They had both beenborn at outermost limits of Europe. These considerations weresufficient to make a happy marriage. Besides, the Princess wasconvinced that she had always been fond of Spain, although she would nothave been able to place it accurately on the map. She recalled certainverses of Heine mentioning Toledo, and others by Musset addressingAndalusian Marquises of Barcelona; and she used to hum a love song aboutthe oranges of Seville.... Her hero must surely be from Toledo, or,better yet, an Andalusian from Barcelona.
In vain certain people of the court spoke of the Czar's not allowing thematch. A great heiress marrying a foreign soldier banished from hiscountry!... But the Princess by her very conduct, gave the sovereign tounderstand her will.
"Either I marry him, or I start out as a dancer in a Paris theater."
It was rumored that Saldana was about to be deported.
"So much the better: I will go and join him, and be his sweetheart."
The old Prince, her guardian, lamented this obstinacy on the part of theCourt. If it had not been for this opposition, Nadina's caprice forSaldana, like so many of her whims, would have lasted only a few days.It was said that perhaps the Emperor, in order to break her will, woulddispossess her of her vast estates in Siberia. The grandchild of theCossack shrieked in reply that she would kill herself rather than obey.
At last the ruler prudently allowed her to fulfil her desire. In gettingmarried she would give up her eccentricities perhaps, and the Russiancourt, so rich in scandals, would have one less.
The wedding journey of the Princess Lubimoff lasted all her life. Onlytwice, for reasons relating to her great fortune, did she return toRussia. Western Europe was more favorable than the court of an autocratto her love of freedom. In the first year of her marriage, while inLondon, she had a son, who was to be the only child. She allowed him tobe called Michael, like his father, but insisted that he should have asecond name, Fedor, perhaps in memory of Dostoiewsky, her favoritenovelist, whose character inspired in her a feeling of sympathy, througha certain resemblance to herself.
No one succeeded in ascertaining with certainty whether or not DonMiguel Saldana felt happy in his new position as Prince Consort, whichpermitted him to enjoy all the pleasure and magnificence of immensewealth. According to Spanish customs, he started out to impose his willas a husband and a man of character, to curb the eccentricities of hiswife. Vain determination! The very woman who at times could besentimental and moan at the thought of social inequalities and thesuffering of the poor, could, by her fiery impetuosity, reduce thestoutest and most firmly steeled will.
In the end Saldana relapsed into silence, fearing the aggressiveness ofthe daughter of the Cossack. To keep his prestige as a great noble,anxious for the respect of the servants and for the consideration of hisguests, he feared violent scenes that filled the drawing rooms and eventhe stairways of his luxurious residence with feminine shrieks. He didnot care more than once to see the Princess with one kick send the oakentable flying against the dining room wall, while all the porcelain andcrystal service smashed into bits with one catastrophic crash.
When the Paris architects had carried out the orders of the Princess,the family left the castle they were occupying in the vicinity ofLondon. A group of rich Parisians, Jewish bankers for the most part,were covering the level grounds around the new Park Monceau, with largeprivate dwellings. The Princess Lubimoff had an enormous palace, with agarden of extraordinary size for a city, built in this quarter. She evenset up a tiny dairy behind a grove of trees, and without leaving herplace she could enjoy the role of a country woman, whipping cream andchurning butter, in imitation of Marie Antoinette, who likewise playedat being a shepherdess in the Petit Trianon.
At times a wave of tenderness swept over her, and she adored and obeyedher husband, pushing her humility to extremes that were alarming. Shetold her visitors about the General's campaigns, and his daring exploitsback in Spain, a land which inspired in her a romantic interest, andwhich for that very reason she did not care ever to see. Suddenly shewould cut her eulogies short with a command:
"Marquis, show them your wounds."
As proof of her tenderness, she refrained from getting angry when herhusband refused.
She always called him "Marquis," perhaps in order to keep the princelytitle for herself alone, perhaps because she felt that he should not bedeprived of a rank he had gained with his blood. The Marquis never paidany attention to this breach of etiquette. His wife had alreadycommitted so many!
A year after their marriage, when the news reached London that AlexanderII had been killed by the explosion of a Nihilist bomb, the Princess ranabout her apartments like a mad woman, and took to her bed after anextraordinary fit of anger.
"The wretches! He was so good!... They've killed their own father."
And thereafter when Saldana entered the luxurious dwelling in Paris, heoften came across strange visitors, at whom the lackeys in breechesstared in amazement. They were uncouth girls with spectacles, andcropped hair, carrying portfolios under their arms; men with long hairand tangled beards, whose eyes contained the startled expression ofvisionaries; Russians from the Latin Quarter under police surveillance,terrorists, who appealed not in vain to the generosity of the Princess,and used her money perhaps to make infernal machines which they sentback to their country and hers.
When the Prince Michael Fedor recalled his childhood memories, he couldsee his father holding him on his knees and caressing him with his firmhands. The child would gaze up at the dark face and large mustache thatjoined Saldana's closely cropped mutton chop whiskers. He could not besure whether the moisture in those black, commanding eyes came fromtears; but after he learned Spanish he was sure that the Marquis hadoften murmured, as he smoothed the tiny brow:
"My poor little boy!... Your mother is mad!"
When Michael reached the age of eight, the problem of his educationcaused the Princess to show her motherly concern for a few weeks. One ofthose visitors, who so greatly worried the servants, brought his booksand his frayed garments from a narrow street near the Pantheon, and tookup his abode in the lordly dwelling of the Lubimoffs. He was a silentyoung man, given to the study of chemistry, and forbidden to return tohis country. The very day of his arrival, a secret service agent cameand questioned the porter of the palace.
"I want my son to know Russian,"
said the Princess. "Besides, he willlearn a great deal from Sergueff. Sergueff is a real man of learning,and worthy of a better fate."
Saldana insisted that he should likewise have a Spanish teacher, and sheraised no objections. All the members of her family had possessed to anunusual degree the talent of the Slavs for learning languages easily.
"Prince Michael Fedor," said his mother, "is the Marquis of Villablanca,and ought to know the language of his second country."
On this account the General once again sought out his former companionsin arms who were still scattered in various parts of Paris. The fame ofhis enormous wealth had brought him many requests, even from persons ofwhom he had formerly stood in awe. But although the Princess, who wasgenerous to a fault, allowed him the management of her fortune, Saldana,with chivalrous unyielding integrity, felt that he had no right to hermoney, and gradually came to avoid the insistent suppliants. Besides, agreat change had come over this silent man during his travels throughEurope. The former soldier of the absolute monarchy was now an admirerof England and her constitutional history.
"You see things differently when you travel about," was all he said. "Ifall my fellow countrymen had only seen the world."
One day the new teacher presented himself at the palace. He was twelveyears younger than Saldana. He had been under the latter's commandtoward the end of the war, and instead of calling him by his title ofMarquis or Prince he addressed him proudly, at every opportunity, as "myGeneral."
The General had not the slightest recollection of him; but the fact thathe could give exact details of the last campaign, and had beenrecommended by various friends, did not permit of any doubt as to hisveracity. He must have been one of those lads who had run away from homeand joined the Carlist bands, making up those forces of irregulars whomSaldana, unable to tolerate their frequent atrocities, more than oncethreatened with execution en masse. The teacher claimed that the Generalhimself had given him a subordinate's commission in the last months ofthe war, owing to his having a better education than his raggedcomrades.
Thus Marcos Toledo entered the palace of the Lubimoffs.
The solemn husband of the Princess laughed with boyish glee upon hearingthe story of Toledo's first experiences as an _emigre_ in Paris.
During the first few months, since he did not know French, he used tostop the priests in the street, to talk with them in Latin. He eked outa miserable existence, giving lessons on the guitar, and lecturing in aPolyglot Institute, where the auditors did not pay the slightestattention to the subjects discussed, but tried simply to accustom theirears to his Spanish pronunciation.
Seven francs and a half, for talking an hour and a half! But Toledo madeup for the smallness of the compensation in the pleasure it gave him toorate about the happy days of Philip II, so much superior to "these daysof liberalism."
"At present, I have only one ambition, General," he ended by saying,"and that is to dress well."
The passion for luxurious display came from his youthful days as aguerrilla, when he would steal red and yellow petticoats from peasantwomen in order to make uniforms for himself. In Paris, he did not feelso keenly the lack of nutritious food, as he did the fact that he wasobliged to wear clothes that did not belong to any known fashion.
When he was given quarters on the top floor of the palace, like theRussian teacher, and the General had selected various garments for himfrom his large wardrobe, Toledo felt he had realized all the dreams thathe had elaborated while running about Paris as a persistent agent for athousand unsaleable things.
His fellow countrymen, former comrades in poverty, admired him onseeing him all dressed up like a rich man, and often riding in thecarriage of a Prince. It scarcely seemed honorable that he, a formerfighter, should occupy a position as a teacher, and he used to say in anapologetic manner:
"I am now General Saldana's _aide-de-camp_. I don't think it will belong before we take to the mountains again."
Young Prince Michael admired his Russian teacher, because his motheraffirmed that he was a great scholar. The boy felt a certain fear in thepresence of this melancholy sage. On the other hand, Michael Fedortreated the Spaniard with an air of friendly and patronizingsuperiority. Toledo made his father laugh, and that was enough to causethe son to consider him an inferior being, but one worthy of esteemnevertheless, because of his docility and patience.
"Say: is it true that you were going to be a priest?" Michael Fedor usedto ask Toledo. "Is it true that after you left the seminary you were adruggist's clerk?"
"Prince," the teacher replied with dignity, "I am Don Marcos de Toledo.My name tells my nobility, in spite of everything that envious peoplemay say, and I have a right to use the 'Don' since I am an officer andyour father, the Marquis, gave me my commission."
In a short time the pupil was speaking Spanish correctly. It seemed thathe had learned it as rapidly as possible in order to be better able topoke fun at his _hidalgo_ teacher.
The father also contributed to the education of the heir of theLubimoffs the one thing he was able to teach. Every morning, after thelessons given by the Russian, which left the little fellow with a solemnface, Saldana would wait for him in a large room on the ground floor.
"Prince, on guard!"
And he, who had been the best blade in the Carlist army, and had on hisconscience the slashing of a skull to the jawbone in a duel during theTurkish campaign, smiled proudly when he saw how this eleven year oldboy stood his ground during the fencing lesson, parrying the hard blowsand returning them successfully at the least unguardedness on hisfather's part. Michael Fedor was going to be a splendid fighting man, aworthy descendant of the Cossack of Russia, and of the guerrilla of theSpanish mountains.
But Saldana was not to enjoy this satisfaction for long. Among hisvarious "lucky wounds," which only bothered him slightly with thechanging of the seasons, there was one which from time to time inflictedperiods of acute pain. For many years he had carried in his body aSpanish bullet which the sawbones of his guerrilla band had been unableto extract. When the surgeons of London and Paris attempted theoperation it was too late.
One morning the General's valet, on entering the room, found him dead.
Michael Fedor never forgot the sorrow he had felt on that occasion, northe sumptuous funeral which the Princess had ordered, equal to that of aking deceased in exile. But what he remembered most clearly was theextraordinary grief of his mother. She too wanted to die. Her Russianmaids were once obliged to snatch from her hands a phial of laudanum,receiving for their pains a few more blows than usual. Then, with herhair streaming down her back, she ran about wailing like a madwoman infront of all the portraits of the General. Oh! Her hero! Now she reallyknew how much she loved him....
For several months she received her visitors in a drawing room withblack furnishings and curtains. Wearing loose mourning garments, shehalf reclined on a sofa in front of a full length portrait of Saldana.His swords, his uniforms, and even a Russian saddle were on exhibitionin the drawing room, which had been converted into a sort of museum ofthe deceased.
"He died like the man he was!" moaned the widow. "He was killed by hiswounds."
At this period began the ultimate stage in the rise of Don MarcosToledo. The Russian scholar receded into the background. A part of thedead man's glory passed to his humble fellow countryman who hadwitnessed his great exploits. One evening, the Princess, while engagedin conversation in the drawing room museum with some noble relatives whohad arrived from Russia, wept so copiously at the memory of her husband,that she decided to leave the room for a moment.
"Colonel, your arm."
Toledo was present in company with his pupil, and looked around with anexpression of bewilderment. The Princess had to repeat her command in amore imperious voice. "Colonel, your arm!" She was speaking to him! Forsome time Don Marcos thought that the new title was a whim of thePrincess and that some day when he was least expecting it his commissionas "Colonel" would be withdrawn.
But when the fir
st months of mourning had passed and the widow, tiringof solitude, started to resume her social calls, she insisted on beingaccompanied by Toledo, and on introducing him to her acquaintances inthe aristocratic world.
"He is the aide-de-camp of the dead Marquis," she explained.
The very title he had invented to give himself an air of importance inthe eyes of his half-starved companions in poverty! Toledo no longerquestioned the validity of his promotion. Now that the Princess waspresenting him as her husband's aide-de-camp, he might well be aColonel. And a Colonel he was, even for the young Prince, who at firsthad given him the title to make fun of him, but finally came to call him"Colonel" by force of habit.
Toledo's dreams of splendid and showy toggery were now realizedmagnificently. With the Princess he did not need to fear the scruplessometimes shown by Saldana, who hated extravagance and mismanagement.The great lady even felt disdain for those who were niggardly inavailing themselves of her generosity. Don Marcos was enabled to changehis attire several times a day, and held long conferences with famoustailors. He sought personal elegance. He wished to dress like agentleman of distinction, but at the same time to wear clothes of a cutthat would plainly show that he was accustomed to uniforms: He had inmind something like a Napoleonic Marshal obliged to wear a dress suit.Through his barber, likewise, he effected a great transformation. Heimitated the manner in which the General had worn his hair, with a partthat started at his forehead and ended at the back of his neck, and withstray locks hanging down at the temples. His mustache was taught tomingle with his side whiskers, in the Russian fashion. In accompanyingthe Princess, he learned to kiss ladies' hands with the grace and easeof an old courtier. He also learned to carry on long conversationswithout saying anything, to keep himself in the background, practicallyunseen, while his superiors were talking.
When the Princess, after the first year of mourning, resolutely returnedto her box at the Opera, Don Marcos attended her, remaining discreetlyin the rear, like the Chamberlain of a Queen. One evening, during anintermission, on passing to the front of her box, the Princess heardthe Colonel telling an old French general, a friend of the house, aboutthe battle of Villablanca.
"And the Marquis said to me: 'Now it's your chance, Toledo: Let's seehow you can make out with a bayonet charge.' So I bared my sword, and atthe head of my regiment...."
"He's a true soldier," interrupted the Princess, "a worthy companion ofmy hero.... The Marquis often talked to me about him."
And at that moment she was really sure she had heard the silent Saldanarelate the gallant deeds of his aide-de-camp.
The Russian teacher, regarded by Toledo as an unpleasant person whowould bear watching, soon left the Lubimoff palace. Perhaps he wasjealous of the Colonel's growing influence; perhaps mysterious reasonsneeded his attention far from Paris. The Princess did not mind in theleast the disappearance of the scholar. She had forgotten her rebelliouslooking Russians; she stopped giving them money. At present she hadother interests.
She suddenly evinced a desire to live for some time in London, and forthis reason, she granted her son's request to be allowed to travel alonethroughout Europe.
"You're a man now; you will soon be fourteen. Travel, and don't stop atexpense; always remember that you are Prince Lubimoff.... The Colonelwill go with you. He will be your aide, as he was for the heroicMarquis."
His first trip was to Spain. Michael Fedor wanted to see his father'snative land. Toledo thought it in point for the young Prince to showgreat admiration for Spain. Michael must remember they were in theenemy's country. Toledo was a Carlist Colonel who had refused amnesty,and had declined to recognize the reigning dynasty! But they traveledfor three months in Spain, without being noticed except for thelargeness of their tips. It is quite true that Toledo avoided coming incontact with any of his former comrades. He felt that he now belonged toa different world. Inwardly he felt the same change the General had.
As soon as Michael Fedor had recovered from his first enthusiasm forbull fighting, they continued their travels across the continent as faras Russia, arriving considerably later than the numerous letters ofintroduction sent by the Princess Lubimoff to her relatives. The Princeremained there a year, visiting his less distant estates, and making theacquaintance of all the great families in his mother's circle offriends. The Colonel talked grandiloquently about everything related towar with various generals who received him as an equal. Was he not theaide and companion in heroic deeds of Saldana, whom they had known inthe war against Turkey, when they were mere subalterns?
The former friends of the Princess Lubimoff told her son some unexpectednews. His mother had announced her forthcoming marriage to an Englishgentleman. She had written to the Czar asking his authorization. Thisnews startled no one save Michael Fedor. The times of the wild Nadinahad long since passed. Her actions aroused no further interest. Otheryoung Princesses had effaced her memory with adventures that caused evengreater commotion. No one save a few of the ladies of the old court,when they forgot their cares and interests as mothers, would bring tomind the Princess Lubimoff, recalling days of vanished youth, which forold people are always more interesting than the present.
When the young man returned to the Paris palace, he found his mother asmuch of a Princess as ever, but married to a Scotch gentleman, Sir EdwinMacdonald.
"Some day you will leave me," she said with a tragic note in her voiceshe used on great occasions. "A Prince Lubimoff should live at thecourt, serve his Emperor, be an officer in the Guard; and I need acompanion, some one to lean on. Sir Edwin is the personification ofdistinction; but don't ever think that I shall forget your father.Never!... My hero!"
Michael Fedor saw a gentleman who, indeed, was "the personification ofdistinction"; attentive to everyone, very precise in his bearing, a manof few words, who shut himself up for long hours--studying, according tothe Princess. English politics was his preoccupation, and his one greatdream was to return to Parliament, which he had been forced to leave bydefeat at election.
This cold man, with a pale smile and extreme insistence on good formeven in the most trivial actions, neither displeased Michael as astep-father nor appealed to him as a friend. He was an inoffensive,somewhat stuffy person, whom Michael grew accustomed to seeing every dayin his father's former place, and whom he had expected to see sooner orlater anyhow.
This marriage brought other people to the Lubimoff palace, with all theintimacy inspired by relationship.
One of Sir Edwin's brothers had been obliged, like all the second sonsin wealthy British families, to go out in the world and earn his living.After a life of adventure, he had finally settled down in the UnitedStates, near the Mexican border, and had soon found himself, through amarriage with an heiress of the country, much richer than his elderbrother.
His wife was a Mexican. She owned famous silver mines in the interiorand vast ranches on the border. She had only one daughter; and thelatter was in her eighth year when Arthur Macdonald died as a result ofa fall from his horse. The widow, with her little Alicia, moved toEurope. She wanted to live in London, to be near her brother-in-law, SirEdwin, then a member of Parliament, and much admired by the Mexicanwoman as one of the directors of the world's affairs. Later sheestablished herself in Paris, as the capital most to her taste, and asthe place where she could meet many people from Mexico.
The Princess Lubimoff treated her relative well, although her friendshipsuffered sudden changes, often going from extreme affection to suddencoldness.
She and Dona Mercedes could talk about mines and vast estates, althoughneither of them had any accurate knowledge of their respective fortunes.They estimated their wealth only by the enormous quantities ofmoney--millions of francs a year--which their distant business agentssent them, and which they spent without knowing just how. There wasanother thing which attracted the Princess, in her moments of good will,to Dona Mercedes: she herself was blond, while the Spanish Creole stillkept traces of Hispanic-Aztec beauty, with a dark, somewhat olivecomplexion, l
arge, wide-open, almond eyes, and hair astonishing for itsblackness, brilliancy, and length.
But an instinctive rivalry frequently embittered the relations of thetwo multi-millionaires. The Princess was sure that her own wealth wasfar the greater. When Dona Mercedes talked about Mexican silver, shementioned Russian platinum! "What is silver worth compared to platinum!"And in order completely to floor her opponent, the Princess would bringout her family history. Beginning with the remote Cossack ancestor, whoalmost became the legitimate husband of Catherine the Great, sheparaded before her Mexican rival generals, marshals of the Emperor'shousehold, hetmans, followed by their retinues of half savage horsemen,princes and ambassadors. Sir Edwin's wife talked as though she belongedto the reigning house, letting it be understood that her famous ancestorhad played a part in the establishing of one of the Czars. For thisreason she had always been shown special consideration at court.
Dona Mercedes, inwardly jealous of so much greatness, neverthelesssmiled a sweet enigmatic smile, as though she were to say, "That is allvery far away--and perhaps a lie."
Then immediately she would begin talking in her rapid whimsical French,a French which she had never been able to free from numerous Spanishlocutions that still clung tenaciously.
"Mama was an intimate friend of Eugenie.... Don't you know who Eugenieis? The Empress, the wife of Napoleon III. When Madame Barrios--that wasmy mother's name--was announced at the Tuileries, the doors were openedwide. Papa was one of the men who made Maximilian emperor."
Over against the aristocratic grandeur of the Saint Petersburg court sheset the image of the Mexican court, of the brief Empire which had endedin the execution of the Archduke Maximilian, and the madness of hisbride, Carlotta. The Emperor endeavored to establish the musty oldetiquette of the Austrian Court, but the Mexican matrons, when theycalled on the young Empress, said in the frank maternal fashion of thecolonies: "How is everything, Carlotta?... How do you like the country,my dear?"
Moved by a similar frankness, Dona Mercedes would end her discourse bysaying carelessly:
"Papa, seeing that the Empire was going badly, recognized Juarez as thehead of the government, and joined the side of the Republic. He did itto save our mines."
Then she would talk on for a long time about the Barrios, who, accordingto her, were descendants of the most ancient aristocracy of Spain. Allthe nobles of Madrid were therefore relatives of hers. Everybody knewthat! As a child she had seen at home a lot of papers which proved herright to the title of Marchioness; but owing to the revolutions in hercountry, and her travels, she no longer knew where to find them.
If the Princess referred to the splendor of her palace, the Creole wouldimmediately mention her elegant private mansion in the Champs Elysees.The arrival of Colonel Toledo, as a valorous adornment giving theprincely residence military prestige, did not intimidate Dona Mercedes.She too had a Spaniard, an Aragonese cleric, who acted as a sort ofroyal private chaplain, and whom she considered a man of science,because, bored by his sinecure in her employ, he had taken up elementaryastronomy, and had set up a telescope on the roof of her house.
Whenever the Mexican lady dared to imitate her entertainments, hercarriages or her clothes, the Princess Lubimoff would audibly lament thefact that Paris was not in Russia, where she might call on the chief ofpolice to force this low-bred Creole to show the respect due to hersuperiors. But after these bursts of anger she would feel a sudden waveof tenderness for Dona Mercedes. "In spite of your illiteracy," shewould say, "you are a woman of natural talent and the only one with whomI can talk for an hour at a stretch."
Between these two declining beauties, who had seen themselves the centerof attraction and adoration in former years, there was a common bond,something which moved them both like far off lovely music, like thecherished memory of youth: It was the daughter of Dona Mercedes, thevivacious Alicia Macdonald.
Dona Mercedes seemed to see her own beauty, renewed with fresh vigor, inher child. But in this she was mistaken. Alicia added to her darksouthern splendor the slenderness and slightly boyish freedom ofmovement of her father's race. The Princess, observing the girl'sindependent character, thought she saw herself back once more in thedays when she was beginning to shock the Imperial Court. This too was amistake. She herself had been able to follow all her most wilfulimpulses, without fear of gossip. She possessed everything. Besides herimmense wealth, she had the advantages of birth, enabling her to elevateany man whatsoever to her own level, no matter how far beneath her hemight be. Alicia had one ambition; to unite her fortune with a greattitle of the old aristocracy in order to be presented at court. Sinceher fifteenth year this desire had been fixed, calculating design,dissimulated under apparent recklessness. From her fairy-story days, hermother had talked to her about wonderful marriages, and of princes whoin former times used to marry shepherdesses, but who were in searchnowadays of millionaires' daughters.
Michael Fedor felt somewhat embarrassed at meeting this girl in hispalace. She looked at him so boldly, with such a dominating expression,as though everything and everyone should bow before her!
She had beauty of a type more fascinating than conventional. Hercomplexion, slightly tinged with a strange golden orange color, herlarge eyes a trifle slanting, her luxuriant hair, which, fleeing itsbondage of hairpins, seemed alive and coiling like a cluster of snakes,gave her an exotic charm. The rest of her body revealed a modernphysical education. Her limbs were firm and agile from continuedexercise and play.
Dona Mercedes seemed to urge Alicia and Michael toward each other fromthe first meeting.
"Don't stand on formality," she said in a motherly way. "You arecousins."
Although Michael didn't succeed in making out this relationship, heendeavored to treat the young girl in a friendly manner, while theCreole mother smiled as she already pictured Alicia with the coronet ofa princess, bowing before the Czar. Princess Lubimoff was in one of herkindly moods; for the moment she did not believe in caste andprivileges, to the extent that she would again have given money to thelong-haired individuals who used to visit her. She accepted her friend'sambitious projects tolerantly and without comment.
The Prince, meanwhile, was telling the Colonel his impressions.
"Too much of a young lady! I like the others better."
Don Marcos, having been Michael's companion in wide and joyous travels,knew whom the boy meant by "the others"; for Prince Lubimoff had begunvery young to nibble at the grapes of life.
On other occasions it irritated him that, with her unabashed demeanor ofa foolish virgin, she should seem so much like "the others."
"She's worse than a boy. If you only knew, Colonel, the things she saysto me!"
As for Alicia she was not wholly satisfied with the young Prince. Shewas accustomed to seeing other men make an effort to be gracious andshow her flattering attentions, while Michael manifested a haughtycharacter, like her own, arguing with her, and even daring to contradicther.
Occasionally, accompanied by Toledo, they went out together for a gallopin the Bois de Boulogne. All this was torture for Don Marcos, who hadbeen a mountain warrior! But his present position called for certainduties. So he rode along as well as could be expected from a colonel ofinfantry.
Alicia was a tireless rider. At the residence in the Champs-Elysees,Dona Mercedes had frequently been obliged to look for her in thestables, where she made herself at home among the hostlers and coachmen,and talked with professional authority as she supervised the grooming ofthe horses. Afterwards, when she came back into the drawing room herhair would have a decidedly horsey odor. Back in her native land she hadmounted a horse and clung to it before she knew how to walk. In Parisshe boldly made her way among the vehicles, knocked down the passersbyoccasionally, and often found her mad gallops intercepted by the police.
The Colonel endeavored to keep up with her. He never said anything, buthis heart was heavy. The Prince protested against her racing in thisfashion, which might have been all very well on her native plains. Theg
irl's retorts widened the breach between them, with feelings ofhostility. "No one is going to talk to me like that, not even mymother," she said. "I'm old enough to know what I ought to do." She wasfifteen.
One morning in the Bois, coming to a cross road that happened to catchher fancy, Alicia started her horse for the Avenue without consultingher companion.
"No, this way," Michael called in a commanding voice.
"I don't like that; this is the way!" she answered aggressively.
The Prince made an effort to cut her off by crossing ahead of her, andshe spurred her horse against Michael's with a shock that brought thetwo animals to their knees. The Colonel, who was behind them, caught anexchange of angry glances, and harsh words. Alicia raised her whip, andstruck the Prince across the shoulders.
"You do that to _me_!" shouted Michael furiously.
The face of this scion of the old Cossack Lubimoff underwent a rapidseries of expressions, finally taking an aspect of extreme ugliness andsavagery. His nostrils seemed to dilate even more than usual. He raisedhis whip and struck, but Toledo had put his horse between the two,receiving the tip of the lash on his cheek, which began to bleed. Thesight of blood and the thought that the blow was intended for her, drovethe young woman mad with rage.
"Brute! Savage!... Russian!"
This seemed too mild, and she stopped for a moment, to think up agreater insult. Her childhood memories helped her; the legend she hadheard from the half-breeds back in her own land inspired her with a newaffront, as if Michael Fedor were Fernan Cortes.
"Spaniard!... Murderer of Indians!"
And fearing a new lashing after that supreme insult, she fled at a madpace without stopping until she reached the Arch of Triumph.
After this incident Dona Mercedes lost all hope of her daughter'sbecoming a Lubimoff.
"A Russian Princess!" she said scornfully. "Why, everyone is a Prince inRussia!... A mere English baron is better, or a French or Spanishcount."
Michael was in a mood no more conciliatory when the Colonel lecturedhim.
"I don't want to hear anything more about that wench!" said he.
And the Princess, in one of her petulant moments averred that sheconsidered this word the proper one. These relatives of Sir Edwin hadalways seemed to her very ordinary people. Likewise it seemed to hervery natural that her son should think of going back to Russia to fillhis station as a Prince. The life of caste and privilege there was moresuitable to his rank than the democratic ways of Paris, where certainAmerican Indians, because they had millions, could imagine they were theequals of the Lubimoffs.
Prince Michael remained in Russia until he was twenty-three. Hismilitary studies were passed brilliantly, according to Toledo, and theboy succeeded in distinguishing himself among the most famous cavalryofficers of the Guard. He took prizes in exhibitions of horsemanship.With his revolver he could pot coins held up at fifty paces by hiscomrades. He wielded the sabre with a skill that his Cossack ancestorand General Saldana would have admired. Every morning in the courtyardof his Petersburg palace he found awaiting him a life-sized dummy madeof the firm sticky clay used by sculptors. He would stay for half anhour in front of it, going through his exercises. It was not enough tobe able to strike one's enemy. The important thing was to strike well,with the greatest possible depth and force. And the head and limbs ofthe dummy went flying, severed by the steel blade. The study of militaryscience was all well enough for those in the infantry or theartillery--sons of clerks and merchants!
At first the Colonel was astonished at the magnificence and extravaganceof Russian life. Finally he came to take it all quite naturally, asthough he had been accustomed to something similar from his earliestboyhood. "My son, remember the name you bear," the Princess used towrite to the Prince. "Do not disgrace it. Spend according to what youare." And the son, without asking her for anything, followed her advicefaithfully by coming to a direct understanding with the Russianadministrators. Don Marcos figured that the Lieutenant in the Guard wasspending something over three millions a year. His racing stables werethe most celebrated in the capital. Many famous beauties of the courtand the theaters were on good terms with Prince Michael Fedor. Hissupper parties in the Lubimoff palace or in the fashionable restaurantswere sought after by all the young men of the aristocracy. To be invitedto one of them was an extraordinary honor, something like being a memberof an academy of supermen. It often happened that toward morning onnights of such parties celebrated women finished by dancing naked on thetables, so that the host "might not be displeased."
Sometimes these celebrations ended in drunken brawls, where wine mingledwith blood. The Colonel had seen one of these suppers result in a duelbetween two of the guests. It took place in the palace garden, justbefore dawn. One of the men was killed. His best friends carried thecorpse to the quay of the Neva, and placed a revolver in his hand tomake it look like a case of suicide.
No: Don Marcos did not care much for those nocturnal feasts. Heconsidered them dangerous. On one occasion, a youthful Grand Duke,absolutely drunk, amused himself by daubing the Colonel's whiskers withcaviar, until, tired of such brazen familiarity, the Spaniard in turnput his hand in the dish and smeared the other man's august face withgreen. The duke hesitated for a moment whether or not to kill him, butfinally embraced him, covering him with kisses and shouting aloud, "Thisis my father."
Toledo preferred his own honorable and quiet friendships with GeneralSaldana's former companions in arms; solemn personages who talked to himabout world politics and future wars. Besides, the Prince's generositypermitted the Colonel secret pleasures, less noisy, and agreeablyunostentatious.
One night, returning to the Lubimoff palace after two o'clock, he sawthere was a supper party in the great dining hall used on galaoccasions. Some fifty guests had assembled, and in the course of thenight many more had arrived. It seemed that the news had spreadthroughout all the pleasure resorts of the capital, attracting all theyouthful libertines.
Opposite the Prince was seated a Cossack officer, short, lithe as apanther, dark skinned, with Asiatic eyes. His wrinkled uniform showedsigns of recent traveling. Michael Fedor showed him the greatestattention, as though he were the only guest. Toledo, being acquaintedwith all the friends of the house, was unable to place this uncouthCossack, who looked as though he had come from some remote garrison inSiberia. Some one offered to relieve his uncertainty. He was startled onlearning that it was the brother of a court lady who just at that momentwas being much talked about on account of her extreme familiarity withMichael Fedor. The two men looked at each other with keen interest,exchanging silent toasts in huge glasses of champagne. At the other endof the hall arose the ceaseless wail of gypsy violins. Several darkskinned girls with striped aprons of many colors were dancing about thetables. But in spite of that, Don Marcos, glancing about, feltinstinctively a note of gloom.
"Leon, the sabres!"
The Prince, after looking at his watch, had arisen and given this orderto his body servant, who was standing behind him. All the guests rushedfor the doors forming a jam, like a crowd, pushing and shoving, at theentrance to a theater. There was no reason now to conceal their realfeelings. They were eager for the promised spectacle. The Colonelfinally found some one who could talk intelligibly.
"He came last night, to ask the Prince to marry his sister. Athirty-eight day trip.... The Prince refuses.... It isn't often you'llsee a match like this.... He's the best swordsman in Siberia."
The garden was covered with snow. It was night, and the uncertain moonillumined it with slanting rays, lengthening immeasurably the shadows ofthe trees. More than a hundred men formed in two black masses on theborders of the walk. The Colonel noticed the arrival of severalservants. One was bringing swords; the rest were carrying large trayswith bottles and glasses.
Michael Fedor bowed to his enemy, his eyes shining with kindliness anddrink.
"Would you like another glass of something?"
The Cossack thanked him with a gesture, and immediately
Toledo saw himremove his long coat, the breast of which was adorned with cartridgepouches. Then he took off his shirt, and finally remained in nothingsave his trousers and high boots. Then he stooped, and seizing twohandfuls of snow, began to rub his wiry body and muscular arms.
The Prince, like many of the spectators, shivered slightly with surpriseand cold; but nevertheless that the condition of the combat might beequal, Lubimoff felt it imperative that he should follow the example ofhis hardy adversary. While he was removing the upper part of his uniformseveral torches were lighted and began to blaze like red stars in thesemi-darkness of the moonlit garden.
Don Marcos could see the two men face to face. They were bare from thewaist up. Their breasts shone from the moisture of the recent massage.In their hands quivered sabres as sharp as razors.
"Ready!"
Some one was directing the fight.
"Why this is barbarous!" thought the Spaniard. "These men are savages."
He did not dare say it aloud because he was a soldier, and more thanthat, a Colonel; but during the rest of his life he never could forgetthat scene.
They crossed swords, parried, attacked, the Prince with firm poise, theother with catlike agility. Toledo could see that their bodies wereblood red, but at the moment he thought it an effect of the torchlight.As they drew near him, circling about in their deadly play, he realizedthat they were actually red with blood. Their bodies seemed covered witha purple vestment that was torn to shreds and the shreds quivered at theends as the blood dripped off. Standing out against that warm moistgarment rose their white arms. The Prince was getting the worst of it.Toledo suddenly saw a deep gash appear in his brow; a moment later hethought he saw one of his ears hang half severed from the skull. Butthat wild cat from the steppes always sprang free from every sabrethrust. No one dared intervene; it was a duel without quarter, withoutrest, with no condition save the death of one or the other combatant. Attimes they came together, forming a single body bristling with whiteflashes in the shadow of the trees; a moment later they appeared apart,seeking each other in the fiery circle of the torches.
Suddenly Toledo heard a wild cry of pain, the howl of a poor animalcaught unawares. The Prince was the only one still standing. A straightthrust had slashed his adversary's jugular. Lubimoff stood there amoment motionless. Then his superhuman strength, which had sustained himuntil then, left him. With the loss of blood, all the weariness of thestruggle came over him like a shot. He too tottered and fell, but intothe arms of friends. There was not a single doctor among thespectators. No one had thought of that. They considered the presence ofone unnecessary in an encounter that could end only in death.
All the curiosity seekers left the garden, following the unconsciousPrince. A few servants stayed behind, gathered about the body of theCossack. He was lying face downward. With respectful awe they watched ashis legs quivered for the last time, as the blood slowly emptied itselffrom the neck, and spread out across the snow, in a black stain that wasbeginning to take on a bluish tinge in the livid light of dawn.
At the court, which had already shown frequent alarm over the Prince'snotorious adventures, this event caused a great stir. Lubimoff's duels,his love affairs, his scandalous entertainments, annoyed the youngEmperor, who had taken it upon himself to improve the morals of hisassociates.
In aristocratic gatherings, the freakish whims of the almost forgottenNadina Lubimoff were brought to memory and discussed again. The youngCossack was related to people of influence, and his death contributed tothe complete disgrace of his sister.
Michael Fedor had not yet entirely recovered from his wounds, when hereceived the order to leave Russia. The Czar was banishing him, and foran indefinite period. He might live in Paris with his mother.
"That's all right; so long as they respect his income," was theColonel's only comment.
Arriving in Paris, the Prince was convinced of his mother's insanity.That was something he had suspected for some time, from her letters. SirEdwin had died, rather suddenly, three years before, in England,following defeat in an election. The palace in the Monceau quarter hadsuffered an interior transformation that represented a cost of severalmillions. The Princess was devoting all her time to it. The Arabic,Persian, Greek, or Chinese drawing rooms, the construction anddecoration of which had made the fortune of two architects and severaldealers in doubtful antiques, had just disappeared; while furnishingsacquired years before as extremely rare pieces had been scattered to thefour winds as though they were mere rubbish of no value. The palaceremained the same as before on the outside; but the interior, beginningwith the stairway, was rebuilt in imitation of a medieval castle. Not asingle window remained without its stained glass, not a room but wasshrouded in the vague half light of a cellar. All the conventionalGothic known to modern contractors was employed by order of the Princessin the restoration of the house. Three stories and one entire wing hadbeen torn down to form the nave of a cathedral.
Michael saw advancing toward him a tall austere woman, with longtransparent fingers, and large, staring, uncanny eyes. She was dressedin black, with loose sleeves that almost touched the ground, and with awhite bonnet fitting close to the head beneath her mourning veils. Inspite of the fact that she had a rosary at her wrist and talked with theair of a martyr, her son imagined that he was looking at an operasinger.
The expulsion of the Prince from Russia had caused her neither surprisenor sorrow.
"Those Romanoffs have always disliked us. They cannot forget that yourillustrious ancestor, so they say, used to beat Catherine when he caughther with anyone else."
Her thoughts rose above all such worldly considerations. She had never,as a matter of fact, taken any stock in religion; but now she declaredherself a Catholic. She had made no public declaration of conversion, tobe sure, but she felt she must adopt the belief. Her new and finalpersonality demanded it.
"Your father approves of my new stand. Often in the night I have talkedwith my hero. He is glad to see me in the path of truth."
No sooner had Michael Fedor and the Colonel arrived, than they noticedthe strange visitors who were frequenting the palace. The long hairedterrorists had been succeeded by numerous fortune tellers, soothsayers,clairvoyants, and solemn professors of occult sciences. A plain oldlamp-stand, which looked as though it might have walked upstairs byitself from the concierge's quarters, was jumping about and rapping, atall hours, in the bedroom of the Princess.
One day she decided to tell her son the great secret of her life. Atlast she knew who she was; the spirits had revealed to her the knowledgeof her true personality. In one of her many previous existences she hadbeen the most unfortunate and beautiful, the most "romantic", of queens.The soul of the Russian princess, Nadina Lubimoff, centuries ago haddwelt in the body of Mary Stuart.
"That is why I always had a special liking for the story of the unhappyqueen. And now I know why, when I saw Sir Edwin in London, I fell inlove with him on the spot, in the most irresistible fashion. Hisancestors were Scottish."
Such reasons were to her as unanswerable as all the others which hadguided her actions. And to pay homage to the queenly soul which was,according to all her mystic attendants, reincarnated in her, she wasgoing to live like the beheaded sovereign of Scotland, copying theQueen's clothes as she had seen them in pictures, converting her palaceinto a mediaeval castle, and eating from antique plates nothing butRenaissance delicacies, the recipes for which she had employed ahistory professor to discover in ancient chronicles.
Carriages now rarely entered the Court of Honor of the palace. The grandstairway was growing mossy between its steps. Not so the deliveryentrance. There, each day, the professionals of "the beyond" appeared,poorly dressed and suspicious looking men and women, who were exploitingthe Princess, generous as a queen--and was she not one?--under the guiseof aiding her in the manipulation of the lamp table, and conjuring uphistoric phantoms which, to prove their presence, moved the carpets,made the pictures fall from the walls, changed the positions of thec
hairs, and committed other childish deviltries.
Dona Mercedes avoided visiting the Princess. Her simple faith caused herto be frightened at queens that last for centuries, and at those hallswith old furniture that seemed to palpitate with mysterious life. Shepreferred the quiet wholesome conversation of the priests whom she wassupporting for herself. The Aragonese vicar had allowed himself to besnatched away in triumph by another devout millionaire. He had growntired, no doubt, of the excessive ease and idleness afforded him by hispenitent, and was bored with astronomical observations on the roof ofthe dwelling in the Champs-Elysees.
At present she was offering her hospitality to a Monsignor, a Bishop _inpartibus_, who directed the widow's money into various pious charitiesof his own invention.
Alicia had married a French Duke, twenty years her senior, and after afew months of marriage was causing herself to be very much talked about.Dona Mercedes, offended, was punishing her by seeing her very seldom, inhopes that such coldness would cause the Duchess de Delille to followthe example of her mother. In the meantime, the latter was concentratingall her family affection on the Monsignor, a saint, and a man of theworld, who in the evening, to avoid a discordant note, took off hiscassock and sat down at table in a tuxedo, while a flock of mechanicalbirds sang and flapped their wings in the large gilded cage in theCreole's dining room.
Michael Fedor saw Alicia twice in the Lubimoff palace. She did not feelthere the uneasiness her mother experienced, and even declared themanias of the Princess very original and interesting. Afternoons whenshe was bored, and paid the Princess a visit, she too seemed to believein the lamp table and in the "Queen's" proteges with the mysticgestures.
She too consulted them to find out whether she would be happy, andespecially whether she would be greatly loved, although she never toldwho it was that was supposed to love her. On other occasions she askedthe oracle, with a note of jealous anxiety in her voice, what a certainunknown person was doing at that particular time. The name of the personwas kept secret, but some months he would be dark and at other times hewould be blond. She and the lamp table understood each other perfectly.
"I always said that girl was cleverer than her mother," the Princessaffirmed.
When Alicia first met the Prince, on his return home, she burst outlaughing, and almost embraced him.
"Do you remember how we used to hate each other? Do you remember thatday in the Bois when we whipped each other?"
She looked at him with an air of interest, scrutinizing him from head toheel without detecting anything of the displeasing youth of formertimes. She knew of his adventures in Russia, his loves, his duels, hisexpulsion. An interesting man! A Byronic fellow! Besides, she had heardthat he was a bit of a brute with women.
"Come and see me. We must be friends. Remember we are relatives."
Michael scrutinized her also, but with a certain seriousness. He hadheard a great deal about her since arriving in Paris. During her threeyears of married life the Duke had tried twice to divorce her. Itweighed on his mind to think that he should be enjoying immense wealthjust in return for allowing her to bear his name. When he shook handswith a friend, he was never sure of the latter's relations with hiswife. But Alicia had married the Duke in order to be a Duchess, and inthe end the couple came to a practical agreement. Half of her income wasto go to the Duke, who was to travel, or, if he wished, reside in Pariswith a former mistress. Alicia might live as she pleased in her splendidwhite mansion in the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, and display a ducalcoronet on her underwear, on her silver, and on the doors of her motorcars.
The little horsewoman of the Mexican plains, trained to morning gallops,had been transformed into a woman of proud and arrogant beauty. ToMichael she looked like a California orange, golden, gleaming, wafting astrong sweet fragrance.
Inwardly he winced at the gaze of those dark eyes, so enticing andfascinating, so provoking and commanding, in full consciousness ofpower.
But no. He remembered that various men whom he disliked, had, accordingto common gossip, already preceded him in falling under Alicia's spell.And for the time being he was interested in a French actress, whom hehad met on the train returning from Russia.
Besides, he suddenly beheld her again in his imagination as she wasyears before. Perhaps she had not changed. She was used to managing menwith a firm hand, to changing from one to another, as though they werepost horses. He and Alicia would quarrel at their second meeting. Theymight easily end by coming to blows.
He saw no more of her. New preoccupations changed the direction of histhoughts. One day in the street he met a Russian who seemed old and ill.It was Sergueff, his former teacher. Sergueff must now have been someforty years of age. He looked as though he were in his seventies, with adirty white beard, grayish skin, and a wrinkled almost motheaten face,with no sign of life save in the two green holes that marked his eyes.From Saint Petersburg they had sent him to a prison in Siberia. He hadescaped, crossed half of Asia on foot and alone, as far as a Chineseseaport, and there he had taken ship for the United States. The story ofthis tour of the world was told in a few words, as though it were asingle walk on the boulevards.
Michael Fedor took him to the palace. The Colonel seemed dismayed bySergueff's presence, and drew back into his shell. He must remember hisown connections with nobles of the Russian court! Some of them wereformer generals of police!
The son of Princess Lubimoff talked for several days with the fugitive.The memory of his own expulsion from the court caused Michael vaguely tosympathize with this man who was likewise an exile. Besides, in thedepths of his mind something of his mother's character was stirring,with all its inconsistencies and hazy vague desires. The officer of theGuard listened as attentively as a scholar to the doctrines of therevolutionist.
"Why, those men are right!" he exclaimed with the passionate enthusiasmthat the Princess herself expressed for every novelty.
For the first few days he felt a yearning for martyrdom, a deep desirefor renunciation, the mystic abnegation of the man of his race. Hethought of many princes like himself, educated at court, with highsocial positions, who had given away their wealth to live among the poorand dedicate their lives to the triumph of truth and justice. He woulddo the same. He would reawaken to true life, and he was sure that hismother would approve. General Saldana had given his blood torehabilitate the past; he would give his to overcome all obstacles inthe pathway of the future. Times change. The past consists of a certainnumber of centuries; the future is infinite.
But Lubimoff was not a true Russian. No sooner had he decided to carryout his mystic determination, than the Latin love of pleasure reawakenedin him. Life is good, and offers many pleasant things! For him the treeof life was still overflowing with sap; there still remained for him somany leafy springs, so many fruitful summers! Later, perhaps, when onlythe dry wood remained....
The one positive and immediate result of this resurrection was Michael'ssense of his own ignorance and of the emptiness of his life. There wassomething in the world besides knowing languages, wielding rapiers, andriding horses. Man should seek the realization of his greatness in moreserious enterprises than love making, duels and betting. Fate, in givinghim wealth, had exempted him from the harsh necessity of work. But thatwas no reason why he should renounce making his mark in the world, as hepassed through it, just as thousands of his predecessors had done, andas millions of men to come would continue to do.
For the first time in his life Michael sought the comradeship of books,and this initial reading stirred him with a new desire. He made up hismind to know the world, to see strange countries, to struggle with theblind forces, which form the pulsing of the planet, and to live thecoarse rough adventures of men who go from port to port. His father hadtold him of remote ancestors of the Saldana family, who had gainedtitles and fortunes by setting sail from humble Spanish harbors,swooping out like sea gulls across the gloomy Ocean, in the track ofColumbus and the Pinzons, in search of new lands of mystery. An ancestorof his, di
sembarking with the aged Ponce de Leon in Florida, in searchof the famous "Fountain of Youth," had been one of the discoverers ofthe present United States. The first Saldana to be a noble had obtainedhis title of "don" by founding a city in the neighborhood of Panama. Whyshould he not be a navigator like his forebears, a wanderer of the seas,enjoying exotic pleasures, and perhaps succeeding in wresting somesecret from the blue deep?
Life in that palace which his mother's mania had rendered ugly, wasbecoming uncomfortable and distasteful, and was impelling him to flee.The Princess did not make the slightest objection, when informed thather son desired to buy a yacht to navigate the seven seas. Let him doso, by all means! It was a princely pastime, quite worthy of a PrinceLubimoff. They were constantly growing richer. The oil, the platinum,all the precious ores of their properties and the products of theirlands, as large as nations, made up an enormous income. The precedingyear it had reached the sum of seventeen million francs: a million amonth! For a single private family it meant unbelievable wealth, and thePrincess Lubimoff, who had temporarily regained her sanity, modestlyadded:
"But for a queen it isn't much."
In England Michael purchased a sailing yacht, with a sharp bow, boldmasts, and an auxiliary engine, and gave it the Spanish name for the seagull, the "Gaviota."
His idea was to continue on the ocean the life he had led on land,selecting, however, only its most interesting phases. For that reason hedecided to take Sergueff along. The teacher seemed melancholy, as thoughthe comforts and the liberal sums of money which the Prince bestowed onhim weighed on his conscience like remorse. He had something more urgentto do in the world than voyage idly hither and thither in a luxuriousboat. He disappeared one day, to return to Russia, as though the gallowshad a fascination for him. Or was it that he preferred, in case ofbetter luck than that, to travel once again around the world, but in hisown manner?
The Colonel, as the aide de camp of the Prince, felt obliged to embark.He had never yet left "his boy's" side! But, oh, he was not blessed withsea legs, and, much less, with a sea stomach! He was a hero of themountains! They were obliged to send him back to Paris from a port inBrazil.
The voyage of the _Gaviota_ lasted for five years. In the second yearMichael Fedor thought his career as a navigator was about to beinterrupted. The war between Russia and Japan had just broken out and hecabled from a Pacific port, asking for his former place in the Guard.The reply was a long time in coming. The Czar was still angry with himand kept him in exile.
"So much the better!" Michael finally said to himself in a voice chokedwith anger. He guessed what was going to happen; what was to be thefinal fate of those brave Russians of the sharp sabers, when they cameto face the astute little yellow men who had silently gone onappropriating the most scientific occidental arts of killing.
His adventures in the various ports, his relations with women of everyrace and color, were sufficient to fill his life.
"I am studying geography," he wrote Don Marcos, after inquiring abouthis mother's health. "I am studying the geography of love."
It was not long before he was obliged to interrupt his cruise to returnto the Princess. The physicians had ordered her away from the Parispalace, with its gloomy decorations so stimulating to her obsessions.They were sending her to the Riviera to drink sunlight and open air.
And poor Maria Stuart, absolutely _incognito_, went from one large hotelto another, occupying entire floors with her retinue of much beatenRussian servants and much adored soothsayers and witch doctors. She wasthe despair of the hotel keepers, who were always glad to see herdepart, though she alone paid more than all the other guests puttogether.
Her son found her looking like a specter in her flowing mourning garb.She was weaker and thinner, and her eyes had taken on an alarming, fixedstare, which gave one the creeps. Her complexion had lost its formerwhiteness, gradually growing darker as though burned by an inner fire.For the moment her sole preoccupation was the construction of a palaceon the Blue Coast. On French territory, in sight of Monte Carlo, she hadbought a small promontory, a spur of land and rocks jutting out into thesea, a ridge covered with century-old olive trees and gnarled pines. Shewas kept busy quarreling with a stubborn old couple, an aged peasant andhis wife, who were refusing to sell her the extreme point of theheadland. She had already spent many thousands of francs on the plans ofthe future palace. Architects, painters, and landscape gardeners wereconstantly working for her, making studies of the historic past, in theendeavor to view of the Mediterranean an enormous Scottish castleexpress her imaginings. Her idea was to erect in full as Scotch as couldpossibly be imagined; in short, according to the Princess, it was to be"a novel of Walter Scott, done in stone."
Michael was frightened. The sumptuous dungeon in Paris was to berepeated in the face of that luminous sea, in one of the most smilinglandscapes of the earth. Behind his mother's back he talked with all themen who were working on the future Villa Sirena, the "Villa of theSirens." The Princess had selected this name, in the conviction that onmoonlight nights the daughters of the briny deep would come and visither, singing on the reefs beneath her window. That was the least theycould do for her!
Each day the veil of mystery was opening more widely before her eyes,allowing her to see things which for others were invisible.
Don Marcos, who, deserted by his former pupil, had gone back to thePrincess, likewise received instructions from Lubimoff. He was toprevent the unhappy lady from perpetrating such a sacrilege on theMediterranean. But what could the poor Colonel do with that madwoman whospent whole weeks without speaking to him, as though she did not knowwho he was!
The Prince returned to his yacht, and a year later being by chance inupper Norway on his return from an expedition to the Arctic Ocean, hereceived the sad but expected news. His mother had died, just as she sawrising from among the olive trees and pines of the rosy promontory, thebeginning of huge stone walls artificially blackened like the paintedpanels in the antique shops, and which looked as though they were aboutto fall in ruins from mere age, as soon as they had risen from theground.
The Enemies of Women (Los enemigos de la mujer) Page 2
