Part 80 (1/2)

”He says the young lady has gone away. He cares for nothing. He is of no use. He despairs of getting enough money to take him back to Russia.”

After a great deal of persuasion, however, they got him to leave the public-house with them and return to his lodgings. They got him some tea and some bread-and-b.u.t.ter, and made him swallow both. Then Edwards, under his friend's instructions, proceeded to impress on Kirski that the young lady was only away from London for a short time: that she would be greatly distressed if she were to hear he had been misconducting himself; that, if he returned to his work on the following morning, he would find that his master would overlook his absence; and that finally, he was to abandon his foolish notions about going to Russia, for he would find no one to a.s.sist him; whereas, on the other hand, if he went about proclaiming that he was about to commit a crime, he would be taken by the police and shut up. All this, and a great deal more, they tried to impress on him; and Edwards promised to call the next evening and see how he was getting on.

It was late when Brand and Edwards again issued out into the wet night; and Edwards, having promised to post a line to Kirski's employers, so that they should get it in the morning, said good-bye, and went off to his own lodgings. Brand walked slowly home through the muddy streets. He preferred the glare and the noise to the solitude of his own rooms. He even stood aimlessly to watch a theatre come out; the people seemed so careless and joyous--calling to each other--making feeble jokes--pa.s.sing away under their umbrellas into the wet and s.h.i.+ning darkness.

But at length, without any definite intention, he found himself at the foot of the little thoroughfare in which he lived; and he was about to open the door with his latch-key when out of the dusk beyond there stepped forth a tall figure. He was startled, it is true, by the apparition of this tall, white-haired man in the voluminous blue cloak, the upturned hood of which half concealed his face, and he turned with a sort of instinct of anger to face him.

”Monsieur mon frere, you have arrived at last!” said the stranger, and instantly he recognized in the p.r.o.nunciation of the French the voice of Calabressa.

”What!” he said; ”Calabressa?”

The other put a finger on his arm.

”Hus.h.!.+” he said. ”It is a great secret, my being here; I confide in you. I would not wait in your rooms--my faith no! for I said to myself, 'What if he brings home friends who will know me, who will ask what the devil Calabressa is doing in this country.'”

Brand had withdrawn his hand from the lock.

”Calabressa,” he said, quickly, ”you, if anybody knows, must know where Natalie and her mother are. Tell me!”

”I will directly; but may I point out to you, my dear Monsieur Brand, that it rains--that we might go inside? Oh yes, certainly, I will tell you when we can say a word in secret, in comfort. But this devil of a climate! What should I have done if I had not bought myself this cloak in Paris? In Paris it was cold and wet enough; but one had nothing like what you have here. Sapristi! my fingers are frozen.”

Brand hurried him up-stairs, put him into an easy-chair, and stirred up the fire.

”Now,” said he, impatiently--”now, my dear Calabressa, your news!”

Calabressa pulled out a letter.

”The news--voila!”

Brand tore open the envelope; these were the contents:

”Dearest,--This is to adjure you not to leave England for the present--not till you hear from me--or until we return. Have patience, and hope. You are not forgotten. My mother sends you her blessing.

Your Betrothed.”

”But there is no address!” he exclaimed. ”Where are they?”

”Where are they? It is no secret, do you see? They are in Naples.”

”In Naples!”

”Oh, I a.s.sure you, my dear friend, it is a n.o.ble heart, a brave heart, that loves you. Many a day ago I said to her, 'Little child, when you are in trouble, go to friends who will welcome you; say you are the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi; say to them that Calabressa sent you.'

And you thought she was in no trouble! Ah, did she not tell me of the pretty home you had got for the poor mother who is my old friend? did she not tell me how you thought they were to be comfortable there, and take no heed of anything else? But you were mistaken. You did not know her. She said,'My betrothed is in danger: I will take Calabressa at his word: before any one can hinder me, or interfere, I will go and appeal, in the name of my family, in the name of myself!' Ah, the brave child!”

”But appeal to whom?” said Brand, breathlessly.