"But as for making away with her niece, there are two good reasons against it. In the first place, the Russians would be almost certain to punish Madam heavily, though perhaps they would not interfere, if Imar alone were tried and condemned according to the usage of the country. And then again, even if they let it pass, the Lesghians, who are a very loyal race, would never accept Marva's rule, when she had slain their Chief and his daughter. You have got the wrong story altogether, according to my view of it. Her game is not quite so clumsy, though it is a very bold one."
Nickols. "Captain, you are one of those men who get the right tip always. Don't be shy,—that would scarcely become you. But tell us exactly what you think; although it may be hard to square it with the higher moralities."
Strogue. "You speak like a fool, as all boys do. But there is no time to board-school you; and you are getting too old for that rot even. Now listen to what I have to say, though beyond the present range of your intellect. I have not dwelt among this mixed lot of savages; I have simply passed through them in my usual course. You might live among them till your hair grew white, and know less than you did when it was green. Why? You are sharp enough in your way, and if you had started with a humble mind, and kept it open, you might win knowledge. But that is not fine enough for you. You start with your poor wits already ingrained and case-hardened with the grease and suet of self-conceit, and nothing ever sticks to you."
Nickols, and Cator, and I, in the corner, with unanimous surprise: "Captain Strogue is the humblest of mankind, and therefore the most omniscient!"
Strogue. "It is true, my friends; a great home-truth, and you shall gather the fruits of it. I have penetrated this lady's scheme, and deeply regret that so fine a woman, one of the handsomest I have ever seen, should not behave with equal beauty. Having sent her brother to a better world, she will bring his daughter to the altar as the bride of her noble son—noble indeed to look at, but unable as yet to say Boh to a goose. He will be the master nominally of all Imar's fair dominions, which are as lovely as any in the world, when the snow allows a sight of them. The real master, of course, will be a certain lady-friend of ours; for you can see that from his cradle upwards she has cowed that uncommonly fine young fellow, so that he dare not call his soul his own. Upon my word I should not be surprised, when she has united these central tribes, if she threw off the yoke of Russia, and proclaimed herself Queen of the Caucasus, like a modern Tamara. All that is clear enough, but the one thing I can't make out for the very life of me is, why the dickens did she send us that scamp, whose real name is Hisar, under the name of Hafer? She would not send the true Hafer of course, lest when he had been away for months, and seen the ways of the polished world, and how absolutely the children rule their parents, he might be seized with emulation, and resolve to be master of his own domains, if not of his own mother—though I am sorry for anybody who tries that. Now tell me, ye who flatter yourselves that you can see further into a milestone than Strogue who has beheld so many, what induced this artful schemer to send Hisar to England in the name of Hafer, when for all that we can see he might just as well have gone in his own name?"
Nickols. "I was never any hand at crooked dealing, though there is plenty of it in our own line of business, but none with tip-toppers like my uncle and me. We have a high character to sustain. Even supposing we would stoop——"
Cator. "Stow that, Jack, we know it all by heart. But I can tell the Captain one good reason why the lady's ambassador should be called Hafer. Sûr Imar was bound to receive his own nephew, when he might have refused to see a stranger. And to take him into their confidence, and let him know their plans, and so on. All of which has enabled them to make fools of his faithful retainers, and prisoners of himself and his daughter."
Strogue. "With half an eye open, I saw every bit of that. But it does not touch the real difficulty. Dariel is to marry the true Hafer. Very well, let her, if she likes. He's a young man of grand appearance; and that reconciles the women to a lot of disadvantages. But if she was meant to belong to him, why let another fellow get the start with her? Though women of decent age know better, a girl is sure to be romantic. She piles wonders of imagination upon the first good-looking young fellow who suggests how lovely, how lofty, how divine she is.
"She keeps him at a blushing distance, and looks as if she had not the least idea where he is, and would turn her head away if he came up. Bless their hearts, I know them all; though I never let them see it. I could have had fifty Mrs. Strogues,—for they love a man who knows the world,—some of them too with cash and houses. But none of that for me, till I want nursing. Half-a-dozen Miss Strogues here and there, some white, some black, and some the colour of an orange, or a good Mocha berry that you can't get now—and they behave all the better to you when they know that you can do without them. Simple truth, gentlemen. I am not romantic."