"Here are the papers, Hans, but I think the whole thing stupid nonsense. What does it matter to any one what Poland wants? What a nuisance all these old boring political things are! They always spoiled our happiness since the beginning—and now if it wasn't for them we could have a glorious time here together. I would love managing to come out to meet you under Stanislass' nose. None of the others I have ever had are as good in the way of a lover as you."
The man swore in German under his breath.
"Of a lightness always, Harietta! No dévouement, no patriotism…. Should I have agreed to the divorce, loving your body as I do, had it not been a serious matter? The pig-dog who now owns you must be sucked dry of information—and then I shall take you back again."
A cunning look came into Madame Boleski's hazel eyes. She had not the slightest intention of permitting this—to go back to Hans! To the difficulty of making both ends meet! Even though he did cause every inch of her well-preserved body to tingle! They had suggested her getting the divorce for their own stupid political ends, to be able to place her in the arms of Stanislass Boleski, and there she meant to stay! It was infinitely more agreeable to be a grande dame in Paris, and presently in London, than to be the spouse of Hans in Berlin, where, whatever his secret power might be with the authorities, he could give her no great social position; and social position was the goal of all Harietta Boleski's desires!
She could attract lovers in any class of life—that had never been her difficulty. Her trouble had been that she could never force herself into good American society, even after she had married Hans, and they had dwelt there for a year or more. Her own compatriots would have none of her, and so she wanted triumph in other lands. She hated to remember her youth of humiliation, trying to play a social game on the earnings of any work that she could pick up, between discreet outings with—friends who failed to suggest matrimony. Hans, on some secret mission to San Francisco, where she had gone as companion to a friend, had seemed a veritable Godsend and Prince Charming, when, in her thirtieth year, he actually offered legal marriage, completely overcome by her great physical charm. But although she loved Hans with whatever of that emotion such a nature could be capable of, five years of him and more or less genteel poverty had been enough, and now she was free of that, and could still enjoy surreptitiously the pleasure of his passion, and reign as a persona grata wife of one of the richest men in Poland at the same time. That those in authority who had arranged the divorce required of her certain tiresome obligations in return for their services, was one of those annoying parts of life! She took not the slightest interest in the affairs of any country. Nothing really mattered to her, but herself. Her whole force was concentrated upon the betterment of the position and physical pleasure of Harietta Boleski.
It was this instinct alone which had prompted her to acquire a smattering of education—and with the quick, adaptive faculty of a monkey she had been able to use this to its utmost limits, as well as her histrionic talent—no mean one—to gain her ends. She was now playing the rôle of a lady, and playing it brilliantly she knew—and here was Hans back again, and suggesting that when she had secured all the information that he required from Stanislass she should return to him!
"Tra la la!" she said to herself, there in the room at the Hotel Astoria, where she had gone to meet him, "think this if it pleases you! It will keep you quiet and won't hurt me!"
For the moment she wanted Hans—the man, and was determined to waste no further time on useless discussion. So she began her blandishments, taking pride in showing him her beautiful garments, and her string of big pearls; each thing exhibited between her voluptuous kisses, until Hans grew intoxicated with desire, and became as clay in her hands.
"It is not thy pig-dog of a husband I wish to kill!" he said, after one hour had gone by in inarticulate murmurings. "Him I do not fear—it is the Russian, Verisschenzko, who fills me with hate—we have regard of him, he does not go unobserved, and if you allure him also among the rest, beyond the instructions which you had, then there will be unpleasantness for you, my little cat—thy Hans will twist his bear's neck, and thine also, if need be!"
"Verisschenzko!" laughed Harietta, "why, I hardly know him; he don't amount to a row of pins! He's Stanislass' friend—not mine."