‘I forgive everything at such a time,’ I replied, ‘for I understand that you speak and act as one who stands at the edge of an abyss. I see no way of escape for you excepting by disappearance. That is my view of the matter. It you stay here, that is at your father’s house, you remain in constant danger, almost as much so as though you were actually within the terem——’
‘That is true,’ she said, sighing; ‘but your scheme, if that is the whole of it, is but a barren one; for how is a maiden to disappear in this city, more especially one who is well known and easily found?’
‘There is more in my scheme. I suggest that you go for sanctuary, but secretly of course, to the Diévitchy monastery.’
‘And take the veil? Oh, no, no! I love life and freedom, and God’s air. I could not be a nun with shorn head and a heart as bare of hope and the joy of life!’
‘You need not be a nun. You shall seek refuge for awhile only, until the Tsar is well married and all this is forgotten. Your hair may remain a crown of glory to you as now. God forbid that it should be taken from you!’
‘You speak impossibilities. You do not know how strict is this community. Once lie in their clutches, and forever the world is shut out to you, and joy and the delight of living and of loving—oh! there could be but one thing worse: to be married to this prince. Oh! why am I so plagued for my sins that I must choose one of two such horrible things? Search your imagination, good Chelminsky, I pray you; think of a better way!’
‘This is a good way, be assured. It so happens that I have done these nuns and their Superior a service for which they have promised me a return. I shall demand that they give you sanctuary, and they will concede it. When you wish you shall come out, and with you shall come your golden head all unshorn, and your heart no more dead to the joy of living and loving than to-day—in short, you shall come forth, when the Tsar is safely married, just as you now go in!’
‘Oh, Chelminsky, do not jest with me!’ she cried, her hands clasped together, her eyes full of tears. ‘How could you obtain so great a favour? What is the claim you have upon these holy women? Remember, there is the curse of God for liars; more especially for such as lie to the ruin and despair of helpless women!’
I told Vera the story of my encounter with Rachmanof, and of his sister’s attempted abduction from the convent, and how the Superior had expressed gratitude for the service I rendered this lady in preventing her brother in his designs.
‘Oh, Chelminsky!’ exclaimed Vera, flushing and seizing me by the arm, ‘beware, I beseech you, after this. I know him, this Rachmanof: he is a man of evil temper; he will kill you at sight. His sister is beautiful. I do not wonder that you should have risked so much for her sake!’