Obviously I could play the part a good deal better than he could, and therefore—why not continue to play it? There was plenty of danger in it. Siberia at least, if it was discovered that I had been personating a Russian officer and fighting duels in his name. But I cared nothing for that. If it threatened me, it had its compensations; since it made it quite impossible for the real Alexis ever to return and claim his position, even if he wished.
I had intended to fight for Russia in any event, supposing the war came; and if I fell in some battle it would not matter in the least how my grave was ticketed. It might save me no end of trouble, moreover, if I took the good the gods gave me without bothering any more about volunteering.
The more I thought of it as I sat and smoked by myself, the firmer became my resolve just to float with the stream and remain what I was, till chance discovered me, if ever it did.
I had probably got over the worst danger by my impudence, my knack of fighting, and the extraordinary resemblance to my other self; and already I could see my way through many of the difficulties, so far as the regiment was concerned.
Moreover, I am bound to admit I liked the part. I had never had such a chance before; and if all the truth must be told, my vanity was not altogether proof against the sensation I was creating. I had had such a run of bad luck for the past few years, that a change was welcome.
By the time my reverie was finished, therefore, I had more than half resolved to be Hamylton Tregethner no more. Then it was time to dress for the ball at the Zemliczka Palace; and I was snob enough—I can call it nothing but sheer snobbery—so to time my entrance into the rooms as to cause as much sensation as possible. Though outwardly calm and quite impassive, I am positively ashamed to say I enjoyed the ripple of comment which I saw pass from lip to lip, and the evident interest which I awakened.
At the same time matters were within an ace of being very awkward. Any number of people came forward to speak to me, all of whom manifestly expected I should know them both by name and by sight. I had one greeting for all: cold, impassive, uninterested, though there were a number of very handsome women with whom I should have been glad to chat, if I could have done so safely. But I dared not.
Indeed the women worried me more than enough. The men I could stave off and keep at a distance easily; for in truth they all seemed shy of forcing themselves on me;—but the women wanted to compel me to take notice of them and were not to be put off by any excuse or shift. How many I ought to have known; with how many I had had flirtations, I of course had not the remotest idea. I was thus very glad when a chance of escape came with the entrance of Olga, who arrived with her aunt. The latter was rather a good looking woman, I thought; and I got away from the other people on the plea of having to go and speak to the two.
"Well, aunt, what do you think...."
"Aunt?" exclaimed Olga's companion, looking at me with unmistakable anger.