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Updated: May 31, 2025
Catrina pulled the ponies up with a jerk, and proceeded to turn their willing heads toward home. She was alarmed and disturbed. Nothing seemed to be safe from the curiosity of this man, no secret secure, no prevarication of the slightest avail. "There are other questions in my mind," said De Chauxville quietly, "but not now. Mademoiselle is no doubt tired."
Catrina Lanovitch, who had never been ruled by those about her, shaped her whole life unquestioningly upon an opinion. They did not speak for some time, and then it was the girl who broke the silence. "I have a confession to make and a favor to ask," she said bluntly. Paul's attitude denoted attention, but he said nothing. "It is about the Baron de Chauxville," she said. "Ah!"
It would appear that he was wondering how he could gracefully get away from the princess to pay his devoirs elsewhere. "I cannot tell you now," he answered; "Catrina is watching us across the piano. You must beware, madame, of those cold blue eyes." He moved away, going toward the piano, where Maggie was standing behind Catrina's chair.
The countess bridled and looked at her daughter with obvious maternal meaning, as one who was saying, "There you bungled your prince, but I have procured you a baron." "The abuse of hospitality is the last refuge of the needy," continued De Chauxville oracularly. "But my temptation is strong; shall I yield to it, mademoiselle?" Catrina smiled unwillingly.
The sun was just setting over the marshes that border the upper waters of the Gulf of Finland, and lit up the snow-clad city with a rosy glow which penetrated to the room where the two women sat. Catrina was restless, moving from chair to chair, from fire-place to window, with a lack of repose which would certainly have touched the nerves of a less lethargic person than the countess.
For beautiful women see the worst side of human nature they usually deal with the worst of men. Catrina was an easy tool in the hands of such as Claude de Chauxville; for he had dealt with women and that which is evil in women all his life, and the only mistakes he ever made were those characteristic errors of omission attaching to a persistent ignorance of the innate good in human nature.
Claude de Chauxville, standing outside his screen of brushwood, was staring with wide, fear-stricken eyes at the hut which he had thought empty. He did not know that there were three people behind him, watching him. What had they seen? What had they understood? Catrina and Maggie ran toward Paul. They were on snow-shoes, and made short work of the intervening distance. Paul had risen to his feet.
With the slightest encouragement, Catrina would have told her companion all that had passed. The sympathy between women is so strong that there is usually only one man who is safe from discussion. In Catrina's case that one man was not Claude de Chauxville. But Maggie Delafield was of different material from this impressionable, impulsive Russian girl.
It showed a patient tenderness in the steady eyes which had always been there which Catrina had noticed in the stormy days that were past. "I cannot stay long," she replied. "I am with the Faneaux at Brandon for a few days. They dine at seven." "Ah! her ladyship is a good friend of mine. You remember her charity ball in town, when it was settled that you should come to Osterno.
"Of course," Catrina went on, with a sudden anger which surprised herself, "I cannot stop you from doing this at Osterno, though I think it is wicked; but I can prevent you from doing it here, and I certainly shall!" Paul shrugged his shoulders. "As you like," he said. "I thought you cared more about the peasants."
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