There was another pause; but now the Baron could not trust himself to speak, his teeth were almost chattering as if with intense cold.
"A time of sickness and sorrow reigned over our country; the people were dying by hundreds and by thousands. The plague was raging in St. Petersburg. My husband's family were the first to flee from the contagion. We remained. The scourge had just abated, when, to my horror and dismay, I understood that I should in a few months become a mother. I wrote to my husband, but I received no answer; still, I knew he was alive and in good health. I wrote again, but with no better success. The day came when, at last, I had to disclose my terrible secret to my parents."
The Countess stopped, passed her hands over her brow as if to drive away the remembrance of those dreadful days.
"It is useless to try and relate their anger and my shame. My parents would not believe in my marriage; besides, the priest that had married us, even the witnesses, had all been swept away by that weird scavenger, the plague. I had no paper, no certificate, not even a ring to show that I was married. Contumely was not enough; I was not only treated by my parents with pitiless scorn, but I was, moreover, turned out of their house. When our own parents shut their doors against us, is it a wonder if the world is ruthless?
"What was I to do? where was I to go? With the few roubles I had I could not travel very far or live very long. I wandered to the castle where my husband was living; I asked for him, but I was told that he was ill."
"But he was ill," said the Baron, "was he not?"
"Perhaps his watery love had already flowed away, and he had given orders not to receive me if I should present myself. For a moment I stood rooted on the doorstep, bewildered, not knowing what to do; then I asked to see his mother. This was only exposing myself to one humiliation more. She came out in the hall; there she called me bitter names, and when I told her that I had not a bed whereon to lie that night, she replied that the Neva was always an available bed for girls like me; then she ordered her servants to cast me out.
"Houseless, homeless, almost penniless; my husband's mother was right—the Neva was the only place where I could find rest. In its fast-fleeting waters I might indeed find shelter.
"With my thoughts all of suicide I directed myself towards the open country, hoping soon to reach the banks of the broad river, for I was not only tired out, but weak and faint for want of food. My legs at last began to give way; weary, disheartened, I sank down by the roadside and began to sob aloud. All at once I heard a creaking noise of wheels, the tramp of horses, and merry human voices singing in chorus. As I lifted up my head I saw two carts passing, wherein a band of gipsies were all huddled together. Seeing my grief and hearing my sobs, the driver stopped; a number of boys and young men, girls and women jumped, crawled or scrambled down from the carts, as crabs do out of a basket; then they all crowded around me to find out what had befallen me. I would not answer their questions, nor could I have done so even if I had wanted. I was almost too faint to speak. An elderly woman, the chief's wife, pushed all the others aside, came up to me, took my hand and examined it carefully; then she began to speak in a language I did not understand.
"'Poor child!' said she at last, patting my hair and kissing me on my eyes; 'you are indeed in trouble; still, bright days are in store for you; take courage, cheer up, live, for you will soon be a grand lady, and then you will trample over all your enemies—yes, over every one of them. You have no home,' said she, as if answering my own thoughts; 'What does it matter? Have we a home? Have the little birds that nestle in the leafy boughs a home? No, all the world is their home. Come with us. You have no family; well, you will be our child.'