I WALKED out slowly through the crowd of serfs, beyond the flaming torches, beyond the swords and spears, and no man offered to stay me, though many stared—in no kindly fashion—at the foreigner and the stranger within their gates. But to me it was nothing; I felt myself a fool for my pains.
Leaving the throng at the entrance of the palace yard, I found the village lying below, dark and deserted, not even the voice of a child sounded there; the inhabitants had all been drawn to the master’s house. My footsteps alone sounded in the narrow lanes, and there was an aspect of desolation in this desertion. I went on, past the last house, and came upon Maluta, squatted cross-legged on the ground before the horses. He had made a little fire of brush-wood, and the light played fantastically on his face and his great ears. I stood looking at him a moment in silence and he looked back at me—wrinkling his face up and peering.
“I am going back to France, Maluta,” I said.
He made an inarticulate sound, clasping his knees with his long arms.
“I am a fool—a durak,” I added drily. “Come—we will ride.”
But he shook his head. “No, excellency,” he said, “not with these horses.”
Then I remembered. The dwarf was wiser than I; they needed rest. We were in a dangerous neighbourhood, but—at the moment—I cared little.
“Very well,” I rejoined; “we will ride at daybreak.”
He nodded approvingly, and began to spread out the food that he had brought with him. But I had no stomach for meat, and told him to devour it himself, which he did readily enough, for though his body was small his capacity was mighty, and I have never known him to fail to dispose of two shares. And while he ate I paced back and forth, at a short distance, busy enough with my own thoughts, which were of the gloomiest. Yet I had no great reason to cry out at my evil fortune; I had thrust myself into her life, why should I hope to win her heart? And without her heart, my claim upon her was nothing in my own eyes. Yet I was legally her husband, and how Prince Voronin meant to break that bond, unless by violence, I knew not. My experiences certainly justified the supposition that he would not leave any means untried, and I fell to musing on it, as I walked in the pitchy night—I wondered what would befall me next. Indeed, I kept my thoughts upon such matters to still those other and deeper reflections that bordered on pain. I loved her—and she? The thought of her would haunt me; the beauty of her face seemed to me—as it had that morning of the duel—to be purely pale and lustrous like a perfect pearl. The tall, young figure in its splendid robe, the long, thick braids of hair hanging on her shoulders and wound with pearls. I saw her constantly, her figure seemed to rise out of the blackness, and the pain of the vision stung me and would not be cast out. I turned and looked at the dwarf eating, much as swine eat.
“Maluta,” I said bitterly, “what think you of women?”