He thought of Treurenberg's altered mien. Olga had not yet awakened to a consciousness of herself, and that was a comfort. She was not only absolutely pure,--Harry was sure of that,--but she was entirely unaware of her own state of feeling. How long would this last, however? Passion walks, like a somnambulist, in entire security on the edge of profound abysses, so long as "sense is shut" in its eyes. But what if some rude hand, some unforeseen chance, awake it? Then--God have mercy!
Harry dug his spurs deeper into the gravel. "What will happen if her eyes should ever be opened?" he asked himself, with a shudder. "She is in no wise inclined to wanton frivolity, but she is a passionate creature without firm principles, without family ties to restrain her. And Lato? Lato will do his best to conquer himself. But can he summon up the strength of character, the tact, requisite to avoid a catastrophe and to preserve the old order of things? And if not, what then?"
Harry leaned his head on his hands and his elbows on his knees. To what it would all lead he could not tell, but he dreaded something terrible. He knew Lato well, the paralyzing weakness, as well as the subtile refinement, of his nature. Stern principle, a strict sense of duty, he lacked: how could it be otherwise, with such early training as had been his? Instead, however, he possessed an innate sense of moral beauty which must save him from moral degradation.
"A young girl, one of his home circle!" Harry murmured to himself. "No, it is inconceivable! And, yet, what can come of it?" And a sobbing breeze, carrying with it the scent of languid roses from whose cups it had drunk up the dew, rustled among the thirsty branches overhead with a sound that seemed to the young fellow like the chuckle of an exultant fiend.
[CHAPTER XXIII.]
ZDENA TO THE RESCUE.
But Harry ceases to muse, for the shrill clang of the bell summons him to supper. He finds the entire family assembled in the dining-room when he enters. All are laughing and talking, even Zdena, who is allowing handsome, precocious Vladimir to make love to her after more and more startling fashion. She informs Harry that Vips has just made her a proposal of marriage, which disparity of age alone prevents her from accepting, for in fact she is devoted to the lad.
"I renounce you from a sense of duty, Vips," she assures the young gentleman, gently passing her delicate forefinger over his smooth brown cheek, whereupon Vips flushes up and exclaims,--
"If you won't have me, at least promise me that I shall be best man at your wedding!"
Harry laughs heartily. "What an alternative! Either bridegroom or best man!"