The Playground of Satan

by Beatrice C. Baskerville

"And I," she said, "will stop here with our people."

He tried to dissuade her, reminding her of what was happening a few miles away. But she was firm. I don't believe he thought she would give in. He did his duty in trying to make her move; but his own instinct was to stick to Ruvno till it was burned over their heads.

"If we leave the place goodness knows what would happen," she went on. "If we are shelled we can live in the cellars. That's what they were built for. If Ruvno goes, I may as well go with it."

"It is the simplest way, and the simplest is generally the best way," said Vanda. She had not spoken since Zosia burst into the room with her terrible story. Ian looked at her face, which had grown pale. He had forgotten her for the moment. Now he remembered that the man she was to marry had gone home and must fight on the other side, or be shot for a deserter. Their eyes met: they understood each other; both had the same thought. And it flew round the room to the others, for they all looked at her, wondering what she felt about it. She covered her face with her hands. Anxious to draw attention away from her, he turned to Minnie Burton.

"And you," he said, "must come with me to Warsaw, at once. I will see your Consul and send you home the quickest way."

Minnie gave a little laugh. She was a fair, fresh-colored girl, with steady brown eyes and a frank manner. She expected them to talk of sending her home and had already made up her mind not to leave Ruvno whilst they remained. Three years ago, her soldier brother brought Ian home for a week-end. They were renting a little place in Leicestershire for the winter, and he hunted with them. She liked him at once. He was the first foreigner she had met who did not overwhelm her with silly compliments. He was more interesting than most of her brother's friends, who developed their muscles, but neglected their minds. And he liked the things she liked, the country, violent exercise, horses; appeared much pleased with English country life and arranged for her to meet his mother and Vanda. So the two families became very friendly. Then old General Burton died, the home was broken up and Minnie left more or less alone in the world, for both brothers were abroad, one, a sailor, and the other with his regiment in India. She had been foolishly happy at Ruvno, she reflected, and allowed friendship with Ian to ripen into one-sided love. She was not one of those women who will renounce a husband rather than marry a foreigner, and prefer to bear no children rather than see them grow up to citizens of another state than England. She longed to "settle down," though she never admitted it and gave acquaintances to understand that she thoroughly enjoyed her present way of living. Ian was free; he liked her. She saw no reason why he should not one day love her as she loved him. Though the Countess had not dropped a word about her own thoughts in the matter, Minnie felt sure she would not object to her son's marrying a comely young Englishwoman with a tidy fortune and good connections. There was one great barrier--the difference in their faith; but Minnie had not thought about that seriously. Her mind dwelt more on Ian the possible spouse than on Ian the Roman Catholic. In his company she had enjoyed many a canter across country, many a chat and not a few friendly discussions. And her heart had succumbed. True, there were times when she suspected him of being a little cold by nature; a little prosaic, even for her, who would have been annoyed with a lover of Roman Skarbek's type. She did not guess he felt so comfortable as a bachelor that he thought of matrimony as an unpleasant plunge, to be taken as late as could be. All this seems calculating and unmaidenlike put on paper; but it was not nearly so clear in her brain; till this fateful morning of bad news from Kalisz her plans had been vague; her heart alone busy. She would have been well content to live in Ruvno forever. And here was sudden danger of her leaving. Ian might marry another girl before they could meet again. Though no husband-angler and too proud to set her cap at any man she felt that she must stop under his roof, or her romance would be ruined. Rapidly, she reviewed heart and conscience. The first spoke all too plainly; as to the second, she had no near family beyond her two brothers, one on the high seas, the other, presumably, to fight in Belgium. Her only duties, if she went home all the way through Russia or Roumania or Greece, would be to help refugees and do her unskilled best with wounded. But here were both to succor. She was nearer that kind of suffering than she could be at home. And even though Ian joined the army--she glanced at his sturdy figure and reflected on his thirty-four summers with the comforting doubt as to whether Russia wanted him--she would be in touch with him at Ruvno, and of use to his mother, whom she liked sincerely.

She did not answer him, but turned to the Countess.

"I'll stop here with you," she said with flaming cheeks.

"But, my dear child, think of the risks," said her hostess, by no means unwilling, but anxious to give her a fair chance of escaping from such a dangerous place.

Here Father Constantine chimed in. His bird-like eyes saw a great deal and he shuddered at the thought of Ian's marrying a heretic. He had often wondered of late when those two brothers of hers were coming to take her away. And here was a good opportunity to get rid of her at once.