"It is a good and safe thing to shelter behind Government powers," he said. "Your sister is upstairs. This way." He led and I followed, my heart beating fast.
We passed up the stairs and then turned along a corridor to the right, and after turning again to the right, and entering, as I thought the right wing of the rambling old house, we went up another short and very narrow flight of stairs. Then he opened the door of a room in silence—indeed we had not spoken a word all the time—and stood aside for me to pass.
Olga was sitting at the far end of the room looking out of the window, which was on the side away from the courtyard, with a woman attendant near her; and she did not even turn round when the door opened.
But when I uttered her name and she saw me, she sprang up, speaking mine in reply with such a glad cry, and ran to me with a look of such rare delight on her face that I think she was going to throw herself into my arms and I was certainly going to let her, oblivious of all but the rush of love that moved our hearts simultaneously.
When she was close to me, she checked herself, however, and put her hands in mine, as a sister might. But the glances from her eyes told me all I cared to know at that moment, while her gaze roamed over me as if in bewilderment.
"How is it you are better—and out? Where is your wound? What is that mark on your face? I don't understand. They told me you were lying dangerously wounded and that you wished me to remain here until you could bear to see me."
"There is a good deal you don't understand yet, Olga," I said. "The story of the duel was a lie from start to finish."
"Then you're not wounded? Oh, I'm so glad, Alexis" and, moving her hands up my arm after a timid glance at the woman, she looked her thankfulness and solicitude into my eyes.
The look made me speechless. Had I tried to answer it in words, I must have told her my love.
"You are to come with me, Olga," I said, presently, recovering myself. "The aunt is all impatience to have you back again."