“And am bitterly regretting my failure. That is my gratitude. But why cant to me of gratitude. Do you suppose she has done this for my sake? Nonsense; I told you her reasons before you went to her. Am I a fool, that you prate to me in this childish strain? I tell you I am an enemy, and a woman to be feared. She is a fool to let me go, and I know it as well as you. Were the positions reversed—but there, she has given you a heavy task, Count, heavy enough to tax even your cleverness; and you can lay your plans on this one solid and sure foundation—that I will do my worst against you and her.”
I made no answer, and, ringing a bell, ordered a carriage to be brought round at once.
“You look very solemn, Count,” she said, when the servant had left the room and I was going. “And you have plenty of reason. But I’ll do you one favour, and tell you that I have already begun my work, and have told that ill-bred soldier who was here and seems to be in your confidence the whole story of your love for the fair Christina; and it had a very pretty effect upon him. But it prepared him, no doubt, for this step,” and she laughed insolently. “At any rate you can be frank with him without that shamefacedness with which one man speaks to another of his love. What he is thinking about it to-day—and I was careful to sow the seeds of fruitful contemplation in his mind—all Sofia will be openly talking to-morrow, including your new Russian friends. It was injudicious of you, wasn’t it, to leave me such a companion?”
I could endure no more of her taunts, and went out of the room, closing the door quickly to shut out the sound of her mocking laughter. When the carriage was announced I went back to fetch her, and, as if her malicious instinct could always hit upon the mood most exactly calculated to jar upon my nerves, she was now disposed to play the high society dame, and, with all the airs and graces of a capricious beauty, was for delaying me to chatter idle nothings, in a tone of empty frivol, about the weather, the recent ball, and my health, until I cut her short by saying sternly:
“The carriage is waiting for you, Countess, and I have no time for this wearying badinage.”
“I thought you might wish your servants to think this was merely a call of ceremony;” and, as if to irritate me with these little peltings of frivolity, she continued to chatter in the same tone until she had taken her seat in the carriage. Then, with a quick change of manner, and a malignant glance at me, she said:
“When we meet again you may find the positions reversed, Count, for I warn you to look to yourself.”
I gave no sign of even having heard her, and watched in silence as the carriage drove off.
“There goes our last hope,” said Zoiloff, looking moodily after the carriage, as though he would have given all he was worth to have dashed after it, and have torn the Countess out of it back to captivity.
“Now let us consider what to do next,” I replied.