“Not more than I shall be!” I exclaimed, while Mary went on:
“I have not told you that Chance comes every morning and looks at me so inquiringly that I give him a card, with the words ‘About the same,’ ‘Improving,’ or ‘Better’ on it, and he goes off on the run, with the card held in his mouth. The first time I gave it to him a miserable censor happened to be outside and demanded to see it. I motioned him to get it if he could. He tried, but the dog held on till the card was torn in shreds, and I am not sure that the censor’s hand was not scratched a little. I wrote another at the desk and held it up to the censor, who of course could not read it; but he pretended he could, and nodded very patronizingly, while Chance growled at him and then set off on a gallop for home. M. Seguin has not been here that I know of, but he has sent you flowers every day—expensive ones, too, the best he could find—and, oh! I came near forgetting, a frowsy-headed girl, wearing your old hat, came bringing a few violets she must have gathered in the country, and an old drosky driver, looking like a barrel, inquired for ‘little madame’ at the office, saying he was the first to drive you in the city. He seemed to think it an honor. I did not tell you all this at the time, as you were too weak to hear it.”
I turned my face to the wall and cried, until Mary became alarmed and sent for the doctor. I did not know what I was crying for, but as a thunder shower clears the sultry atmosphere, tears did me good, and I was better the next day and the next, and was soon able to start on the long overland journey to the frontier. Many kind wishes were expressed by the people in the hotel, and I was the recipient of so many flowers that I was obliged to leave some of them behind. The old barrel-shaped man who boasted of having given me my first drive in the city stood outside, smartened up with a new wadded garment tied around the waist with a piece of red cord like that with which we sometimes hang pictures.
“Would little madame do him the honor to let him drive her to the train? He would promise to go slowly, and not break her bones!”
I could not refuse, and so it came about that in the same old rattletrap in which I first rode through the streets of St. Petersburg, I was driven to the station, the old man stopping occasionally to ask if the little madame was comfortable and was he driving too fast.
“No, no,” I cried, “go on; we may be late.”
“All right!” and he shook the strips of leather which could not have restrained his horse a moment had he chosen to use his strength.
Near the station there was quite a motley crowd of people, some well dressed, some otherwise. My hat was bobbing up and down in the midst as if the wearer were trying to get a sight of me, and I caught a glimpse of Ursula and, near her, Carl, who boldly waved his hat. A moment after, my old hat went up in the air, showing two streamers of some soiled stuff at the back.
What did it mean? Had they come to see me off, and were these the people who had sent me so many flowers? The possibility brought a big lump into my throat. Then I wondered if M. Seguin would be there to say good-by, not caring to confess how disappointed I should be if he were not.
He was there with Chance, who put his big paws on my shoulders, with a low kind of woof, as if he knew I was going and was sorry. In my weak state tears came easily, and they fell like rain as I put my arms around the noble brute’s neck and bade him good-by. M. Seguin was there ostensibly on official business, but he attended to our tickets and passports and made it very easy for us to leave.