The Adventures of an Ugly Girl

by Mrs. George Corbett

“If you will follow me, miss,” said Trischl, “I will show you the berth that is to be yours till the end of the voyage. You will be able to wash and dress comfortably in it.”

Even the little den to which I promptly betook myself was of somewhat circumscribed area, but it was as a very paradise to me, by reason of the delightful feeling of security which I felt as soon as I stepped into it. I soon discarded the raiment which had served me so well, and at once lost myself in the delight of making myself more suitably presentable. Every necessity seemed to have been foreseen and provided against, and I found an ample stock of clothing placed at my disposal.

I was very glad that I no longer needed to masquerade in boy’s attire, and took especial delight in robing myself in a pretty pink morning gown Trischl brought in for me. My hair afforded me some trouble, though. If I had been an ugly girl before, what must I be now? I thought. My little berth was lighted by a swing lamp, fixed to a bracket in the bulkhead. There was also a mirror hanging near the bunk. But I could not judge very well of my appearance, and it was with a sense of regret at the thought that my cropped hair negatived the advantages of my pretty dress that I eventually followed Trischl into more airy and lightsome regions.

I found the ship’s cabin well occupied. Madame and her husband, together with the Prince and Princess Michaelow, being deep in consultation concerning future arrangements. So I did not encroach long upon their time, but, after exchanging pleasant greetings with them all, went on deck. Here Feo was having a merry time with Count Sergius Volkhoffsky. I am not sure that I wasn’t sorry to find that the latter was a grand sort of an individual, after all. I would much rather have been able to call him Ivan, especially as he looked so very handsome, now that he was dressed in a manner befitting his station, while I felt painfully conscious that I must be looking a bigger fright than ever.

“Oh, Dora, I am glad you have come up at last,” exclaimed Feo, bounding affectionately toward me. “They would not let me wake you when the captain first came to tell us that it was safe enough for us now. Isn’t the sea pretty? And isn’t this a jolly ship? And isn’t everybody in it jolly? And, ho; isn’t Sergius jollier than anything?”

I have been told since that if my lips did not indorse the latter sentiment, my eyes did. But I must warn the reader that the individual who made the statement is not to be trusted with regard to anything he may say about me. For he is unduly prejudiced in my favor. The latter fact, when it was first brought home to me, came upon me as a huge surprise. I still feel surprise, when I think of it, but am better accustomed to it by this time.

There was much to explain and to talk over concerning our recent flight, and, while Feo rambled hither and thither, in thorough enjoyment of the situation, I listened to the explanation of much that had seemed inexplicable to me. The whole party with which I had become so closely associated was of Nihilistic proclivities, and had been spending much energy and a great deal of money in facilitating the escape from Russia of such members of their fraternity as from time to time fell under the ban of suspicion. It had, however, of late, struck them that the limit of their own safety had been spanned, and their flight had not been nearly so hasty and unpremeditated as it had seemed to me, though Mme. Karniak, as I must now call my employer, had been reluctant to recognize her own extreme peril. There was some special mission to perform, for which a considerable sum of money was still needed. Madame could only contribute her quota after handing in her report and receiving the check with which government rewarded her imaginary services once a month. She resolved that once more, and only once more, she would run the risk of a return to St. Petersburg.

She achieved her purpose, but narrowly escaped falling a victim to her patriotic zeal. Prince Michaelow, less sanguine than she, had foreseen her danger, and provided for her escape, his cousin having considered it by no means derogatory to his dignity to assume the rôle of a coachman for the nonce. The Princess Michaelow, or Nina, as she has since asked me to call her, had taken no active part in Nihilistic plans and consultations, and had been as genuinely surprised at the sudden necessity for the flight to England as I had been, but was by no means downhearted at the prospect of having to spend the rest of her life in her own country. As for Mr. Victor Karniak, he had deemed it wisest to avoid the river steamer, and had not reached the Beacon much sooner than we had done ourselves.

Needless to say, the visit of the Beacon to Cronstadt was not the result of merely mercantile speculation, but of a thoroughly systematized plan of campaign, by which refugees in the secret had their escape from Russia facilitated. The vessel usually made four trips between England and Cronstadt in the season, taking coals out from the Tyne, and returning with a mixed cargo of wheat, timber, and refugees, London being the discharging port. The after hold was docked of two feet of its legitimate length, this space being utilized for the hiding-place in which we had spent our first night on board.

I used to imagine myself an ardent lover of nature. During this voyage I sometimes wondered if I had turned Goth or Vandal. For I no longer took the all-absorbing delight in my surroundings that had hitherto accompanied me when among fresh and unconventional scenery. The ever-changing panorama of views of first one country and then another, alternated by the numerous islands which are dotted about the Baltic, would have aroused my enthusiasm at any other time. That they did not do so on this occasion must be laid to Count Sergius Volkhoffsky’s charge. He was so clever and so brilliant that when talking to him I naturally overlooked the unobtrusive claims of scenery. I might possibly see a great deal more of the world in time to come, I thought, but I should never have such a wonderful traveling companion again. Therefore it would have been foolish to refuse the opportunities which were mine of enjoying his society. Certainly these opportunities seemed to last almost all day, for, strangely enough, Count Volkhoffsky never seemed to tire of my company. I knew that things would be very different, when we reached London, and he was introduced to cleverer and better-looking girls. Meanwhile, I felt happy in the present, and tried to banish the oft-recurring vision of my own probable future of lonely lovelessness.