“I have heard of him as a remarkable dog, who, once on the scent of a fugitive, seldom fails to find him; but I don’t think he is often used for that purpose. Indeed, I know he is not,” she replied, and I was sure her fine face darkened for a moment as if Chance were not an interesting topic.
The air was getting chilly and damp, for a rain was coming on, and the young lady closed the window; and after a moment, during which she seemed to be thinking, she said, addressing herself to me:
“Your nephew has introduced your party, and as we are bound for the same destination, I will present myself.”
Then she told us that her name was Sophie Scholaskie, that she was born in St. Petersburg, where her mother, who was a widow, was now living. Her grandmother lived in London, where Sophie had been at school two years, and this accounted for her good English. She had a twin brother—Ivan, who at present was employed at the Bon Marché, in Paris.
“You have been there, of course?” she said.
I had a very vivid remembrance of many hundred francs spent at the Bon Marché, and said so, while she continued:
“You may have seen him then. He is at a silk counter—an English speaking clerk as well as Russian. He meets many Americans, and is, I believe, quite popular with them. We look very much alike. If we exchanged clothes you could hardly tell one from another, although he is rather small for a man—five feet seven—and I am big for a woman—too big! We can wear each other’s clothes and gloves,” and she laughingly held up two large white hands. “No. 7, and very strong!”
Now that she had commenced to talk she was very communicative, and seemed anxious to tell us about herself and family. Her grandfather on her father’s side had been one of the minor nobility before the emancipation act, by which he lost his serfs and a large proportion of his land. After that with many others he migrated to St. Petersburg, where he received an office under the government. His home was on the Nevsky, where her father and grandfather lived together until——
She stopped a moment and looked out upon the dusky landscape with an expression I did not like, it was so full of resentment and hatred. Drawing a long breath, she continued:
“My father, who was one of the best and noblest of men and would scorn to do a mean act, died—in—Siberia, where he was sent!”