“What could have been more abominable and disgusting than his treatment of you to-day?” he exclaimed, when my wine had begun to heat him. “It’s that sort of barbarism that brings us Russians into such ill-repute. I know what would have happened. He would have given that order to shoot you without turning a hair and then would have drawn up some bogus report or other about you having made a desperate attack upon his life, and have called upon me to witness it. I suppose he hates you for some reason, and that’s at the bottom of it. There are plenty of black pages in his past, I can tell you.”
“You had better not,” I answered, smiling. I did not wish him to have the after-reflection that he had been talking too freely. If he were inclined to give me his confidence he should not lack opportunities; and I pressed him warmly, therefore, to come and see me frequently.
He came the next day when Zoiloff was with me, and again on the following day, when Spernow had returned, and we encouraged his intimacy in every possible way. Zoiloff, in the meantime, had made guarded inquiries about him, having at first been disposed to distrust him as a possible spy acting in General Kolfort’s interest. He had found out that he was as genuine as he seemed—a man with no family influence to push his interests, of no means of his own, and constantly standing in his own light because of his scruples, and a blunt, rugged way of expressing them.
“A man not to be bought, but to be won,” declared Zoiloff. “And, once won, to be trusted. He may be valuable to us;” and so indeed the event proved.
On the occasion of his fourth visit I noticed that he was reserved and seemed preoccupied, and while we were all going through our practice in the gallery he joined in it with small zest. We three were even more jubilant than usual. We had been pushing forward our preparations with the greatest energy and activity, and Zoiloff had declared to me his belief that in another ten days or a fortnight we might venture to make the coup towards which all our efforts were bent. Men had been sounded in all directions, and fresh adherents had come in in large numbers, and with great enthusiasm.
I myself had not seen the Princess since the memorable interview at the General’s house; but she knew of all that we were doing. The marriage had been rendered impossible for the moment because the Duke’s wound had taken a turn for the worse, and he lay battling almost for life. We had had no hint that our suspicions of a change of front on Kolfort’s part had any foundation; and our hopes ran high therefore that, after all, we should yet carry things through with a dash.
When our fencing was over, I observed that Captain Wolasky hung about as if waiting for Zoiloff and Spernow to go; and I dropped them a hint quietly that they had better do so.
As soon as we were alone, the Captain said:
“I am afraid this may be my last visit, Count.”
“Oh no, I hope not. Why?”