Part 2 (1/2)
”How this letter came into my hands we need not explain! Simply by chance. Such chances are very common, and they have in them only this good, that at times they put an end to deceit and--villainy!”
Kranitski, still very pale except that red spots were coming out on his forehead, looked very old all at once; he advanced some steps and stood before Darvid, the round table alone was between them. With stifled voice, but fixing his black, flas.h.i.+ng eyes boldly on Darvid's face, he said:
”Deceit! villainy! those words are said easily! Do you not know that in early youth your wife was almost my betrothed?”
Darvid's lips were covered with irony, and he said:
”You deserted her at command of your mother, when she sent you to this capital in search of the golden fleece.”
”And when you went to the ends of the earth for it,” answered Kranitski, ”you thought proper to place me to guard the woman whom I loved formerly. You considered yourself invincible, even when separated by hundreds or thousands of miles from her--”
”Let us stop this ridiculous discussion,” said Darvid.
”As for me,” put in Kranitski, with animation, ”I will finish it by offering you any satisfaction which you may demand. I await your seconds.”
Darvid laughed loudly and sharply.
”A duel! Do you think that the world would not know the cause of it? Your former betrothed would appear in the matter. For that I should care less, though I must care, for she bears my name, but I have daughters, and I have business--”
He was silent a while, then he finished:
”A scandal might injure my business, and most a.s.suredly would injure the future of my daughters; therefore I will neither challenge you to a duel, nor will I direct my servants to thrash you!”
A trembling shook Kranitski from head to foot, as if from the effects of a blow; he straightened himself, he became manful, and crus.h.i.+ng in his hand the bank check which he had received, hurled that paper bullet into Darvid's face so directly that it hit him at the top of his bronze colored whiskers and fell to his feet.
Then with elastic movement, and with a grace which was unconscious and uncommon, he turned toward the door and strode out. Darvid remained alone. In that s.p.a.cious, lofty chamber, richly furnished, in the abundant light of a costly lamp, he remained alone. Clasping his inclined head with both hands, he squeezed it with his white, lean fingers, as with pincers. How many vexations and troubles had met him here after an absence of years! There was something greater still than even these vexations and troubles. The coil of serpents rose in his breast and crawled up to his very throat.
That was torture mixed with a feeling of unendurable disgust. But Darvid avoided high-sounding phrases, and would never think or say: torture, disgust. That was a manner of speaking for idlers and poets. He, a man of iron industry, knew only the words vexation, trouble. What is he to do now with that woman? Throw her out like a beast which, bathed in milk and honey by its owner, has bitten him to the blood? Impossible. His children, especially his daughters, his business, his position, his house--scandals are harmful in every way. So he must live on under the same roof with her; meet the sight of her face, her eyes--those eyes which on a time were for him--yes, it cannot be otherwise.
He must endure that and master himself; master himself mightily, so as not to let things reach a scene, or reproaches, or explanation. Naturally, no scenes, disputes, or explanations.
For, first of all, what can they profit? Nothing save a useless expense of energy, and he needs energy so much.
Besides, the very best punishment for that woman is unbroken silence, which will raise between her and him an impenetrable wall. From words, even though they be as sharp as sword-edges, some sound may be got, some slight hope of salvation; but silence, concealing hidden knowledge of a deed, is a coffin in which, from the first hour of each day to the end of it, that woman's pride will be placed with all that in her may still be human. Contempt as silent as the grave! She will eat of his millions, seasoned with his contempt. She will array herself in his millions, interwoven with his hatred. Hatred? Oh, beyond doubt he hates her with pa.s.sion, and only at times does her name move marvellously through his brain with such sounds as if they were the echo of things very dear, things lost forever and irreplaceable. Can it be? Is it possible that she did that?
Malvina, once an ideal maiden, and ten years later a woman so loving that when he was going on a journey she threw herself on her knees and wept, and then besought him not to go from her! He remembers the scene perfectly.
Her hair of pale gold, dropping then in disorder to her shoulders and bosom--her magnificent hair, surrounded by which the tears flowing down her face glistened like diamonds! He raised his head, straightened himself. What stupidity! On what sentiment and exaltation is he losing time and energy! He needs them for something else. He needs to concentrate all his forces to bring his new designs to the desired culmination. Why does ”that hound”
not show himself and bring the answer needed? Ah, if he could only get one hour of that conversation, he would convince; he would capture; he would overcome rivals, and seize into his own sole possession new fields of industry and speculation! There are hindrances, intrigues, dangerous rivalries, he knows of them, and these oppositions it is precisely which attract him most of all.
Now especially, with those vexations and troubles, victory and the new work would be as a spoonful of has.h.i.+sh to him, or a gla.s.s of strong, invigorating wine. He must go to the club. A game of cards, to which he devotes some night hours frequently, is not specially pleasant, but he plays with persons of high position in society, or with those who are needed in his business. He will find perhaps, also, that man for whom he has been waiting, vainly, some days.
He was extending his hand to the b.u.t.ton of the electric bell when from behind the portieres which half hid the door opening to the interior of the mansion a thin and timid voice came; one could hardly tell whether it was the voice of a child or a young lady:
”Is it permitted to enter?”
Darvid went to the door hurriedly, saying, also hurriedly:
”It is! It is!”
At that moment, from the darkness which filled the adjoining room, into the abundant light of the study, came a maiden of fifteen years, in a bright dress; she was tall and very slender, with a small waist and narrow breast. An immense wealth of pale, golden hair seemed to bend back with its weight her small, shapely head somewhat; her oval face, with its delicate features, had the blush of spring on it; her lips were like cherries, and under the arches of her dark brows were large dark eyes. Right behind the bright dress of the girl came a small s.h.a.ggy creature, a ball of ash colored silk, a little dog.
”Cara!” cried Darvid, ”well, you are here, little one! How often have I asked you to come always boldly. How do you feel to-day?