Part 35 (2/2)
”You are safe, dear lady,” he said, softly. ”Thank Heaven you are safe.”
She recognised the voice. She penetrated through the veil of the rough clothes, the stained face and hands. She uttered a little joyful cry.
”Ah, Signor Corsini, it is you who are my preserver?”
Corsini bent over her. ”It has been my turn, Princess. You saved me at Pavlovsk, I have paid back my debt in St. Petersburg.”
The Princess's wondering eyes grew bigger. ”But tell me all that has happened. I am dying with curiosity.”
Golitzine touched his wife on the shoulder. ”We are _de trop_, my dear, let us leave the young people together.”
The Countess was a very obedient wife. She accompanied her husband out of the room; but when they were outside she whispered to him: ”Alexis, is it wise? Nada is a girl of high birth but of romantic notions.
Corsini is, no doubt, very talented, but is it prudent to leave them together?”
”Listen to me; I am going to impart to you a little secret,” said the Count in a low voice. ”To-morrow the house of Zouroff will be humbled in the dust. Our pretty little Nada can then well choose where her heart leads her to make her choice, even if it is in the direction of our young friend, Nello Corsini.”
”I think I understand,” said the Countess.
In the big chamber, Katerina, recovering more slowly than her mistress, was reclining on the sofa. A tall, white-capped nurse stood in the corner.
Nada, of course, paid no heed to servants. They were a part of her being, to be ignored at will. For all practical purposes she and Corsini were alone.
”And so it is you who were my preserver,” she said softly; ”you in this rough garb, with your face and hands stained to a peasant's hue.
There must have been some motive behind such a dangerous adventure.”
Corsini bent over her, over the lily-white face, still looking wan after her terrible experience.
”It was Providence that led me to your aid to-night, Princess. You remember my urgent advice to leave the Palace at once.”
”I know I was blind and foolish,” murmured the Princess. ”I could not believe my brother capable of such cruelty.”
”Your brother is capable of anything, of everything,” said Corsini.
”Listen! I will tell you all that has happened to-night. Please understand that Count Golitzine has got him in the hollow of his hand.”
In a few brief words, he recounted all that he had overheard at the villa of Madame Quero, Zouroff's confession that for his own purposes he had removed the beautiful singer.
”To-morrow, or the day after, he will be on his way to Siberia,”
concluded Corsini, with a pardonable exultation. ”He doomed me to death because he found me in his way; he has murdered his old sweetheart from the sheer l.u.s.t of revenge. You, out of that same spirit of vengeance, he would have condemned to a long exile. I trust, Princess, you will not mourn over the well-deserved fate of such a worthless brother.”
”No,” she said in a resolute voice, ”I will not mourn over him. His outrage on me quenches the last spark of affection I ever entertained for him.”
The conversation was concluded. Corsini rose, and yet he still lingered. Something alluring in the sweet face of the Princess still drew him. But could he dare? There was a softness in her gaze, something inviting in her demeanour.
Youth was calling to youth. Suddenly he leaned over and pressed his lips on hers. They were met by an answering pressure.
”I love you, I love you, oh, I cannot tell you how much,” he murmured brokenly. ”I have loved you ever since the night when you pa.s.sed me in Dean Street and wanted to throw me coppers when I was playing in the gutter, and your imperious brother forbade you. I have loved you ever since that moment.”
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