“I’ve heard of your articles,” I said, after she had been describing incidents in connection with the expulsion of the Jews from Odessa.
“Ah, I write sometimes,” she replied. “It is a pleasant and profitable amusement; yet one does not always express one’s real political opinions when writing for the press.” And she laughed lightly. “Had you lived in Russia you would recognise the extreme danger of commenting adversely upon the Government or criticising its administrative exile system.”
Our conversation was interrupted by the clock of Kingsthorpe Church striking six. Half-past was the dinner hour at the Rectory, therefore I unloosened the moorings, and, taking up the pole, pushed the punt lazily homeward, chatting to my fair freight, expressing the enjoyment her companionship afforded me, and amusing her with tittle-tattle until we stepped ashore on the Rectory lawn.
But before we had left our secluded little backwater I had kissed her, and in return received a fierce and fond caress.
I had imprinted a Judas-kiss upon her lips!
Next morning at breakfast I was sitting beside her. We had just finished the meal when the servant entered with letters. Beside her plate the maid placed two missives, one a tiny note with a superscription in a feminine hand; but the appearance of the other was a revelation to me. It lay for a moment unheeded, and by a quick, sidelong glance I saw that the large, square envelope bore the official frank stamp and double-headed eagle of the Ministry of the Interior at Petersburg. When she noticed it she hurriedly folded it in half and thrust it into her pocket without examining its contents.
That evening, when we joined the ladies in the drawing-room after dinner, I noticed she was not with them. Leaving the room, I inquired of one of the maids, and learnt that the fair diplomat, wearing her cloak and hat, had been seen to cross the lawn in the direction of the river’s bank.
Some influence impelled me to follow. The summer’s night was still and starlight; scarcely a leaf stirred, and the quiet was only broken by the distant rushing of the weir. Passing out by a gate at the side of the lawn, I walked along a by-path that ran through the meadows by the water’s edge. Large alders grew beside the stream, and in their shadow I advanced noiselessly over the grass.
Suddenly I heard voices, and halted to listen. I recognised hers! She was speaking in Russian.