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"And how did you finish him off?" she asked. "I choked him. That bear knocked me down, but Steinmetz shot him. We were four days out in the open after that elk. This is a lynx a queer face rather like De Chauxville; the dogs killed him." "But why do you not paper the room," asked Etta, with a shiver, "instead of this gloomy panelling? It is so mysterious and creepy.
"I would rather leave it to your own conscience," she said. "But I fail to see the danger you anticipate." "Then I accept, madame," said De Chauxville, with the engaging frankness which ever had a false ring in it. If the whole affair had been prearranged in Claude de Chauxville's mind, it certainly succeeded more fully than is usually the case with human schemes.
He might give some to the prison people, and thus obtain a little alleviation. Yes; the Comte de Chauxville said he would come on my first reception-day, and, of course, Paul and his wife must return my call. They will come to-day. I am anxious to see her. They say she is beautiful and dresses well."
"And you think," said De Chauxville, suppressing his excitement with an effort, "that the lady has risked every thing upon a supposition?" "Knowing the lady, I do." De Chauxville's dull eyes gleamed for a moment with an unwonted light. All the civilization of the ages will not eradicate the primary instincts of men and one of these, in good and bad alike, is to protect women.
He opened the breech and looked into the barrels. They were clean; the rifle had not been fired off. He gave a little laugh of contempt, and, throwing the rifle at De Chauxville's feet, turned abruptly away. It was Catrina who spoke. "If you had killed him," she said, "I would have killed you!" Steinmetz picked up the rifle, closed the breech, and handed it to De Chauxville with a queer smile.
"And this lady's share in the disposal of the papers will not be welcome news to the prince," answered De Chauxville. "Welcome or unwelcome, he shall be told of it to-night." Etta looked round sharply, her lips apart and trembling. "By whom?" asked De Chauxville. "By me," replied Steinmetz. There was a momentary pause. De Chauxville and Etta exchanged a glance. Etta felt that she was lost.
De Chauxville counted back with his slim fingers on the table delightfully innocent. "Yes," he said, "the years seem to fly in coveys. Do you ever see any of our friends of that time you who are in Russia?" "Who were our friends of that time?" parried Steinmetz, polishing his glasses with a silk handkerchief. "My memory is a broken reed you remember?"
She cannot be back for at least half an hour." Etta bit her lip as she looked at the chair. She sat slowly down and drew in the folds of her rich dress. "I have the good fortune to find you alone." "So you have informed me," she replied coldly. De Chauxville leaned against the mantel-piece and looked down at her thoughtfully.
But we have never been much in sympathy; the coldness is intensified, that is all. So I took the opportunity of calling when I knew he was away." "How did you know he was away?" "Ah, madame, I know more than I am credited with." Etta gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders. "You do not care for Osterno?" suggested De Chauxville. "I hate it!" "Precisely.
"I envy you your power. With music like that one can almost imagine that life is what one would wish it to be." She did not answer, but she wandered off into another air a slumber song. "The Schlummerlied," said De Chauxville softly. "It almost has the power to send a sorrow to sleep." This time she answered him possibly because he had not looked at her. "Such never sleep," she said.
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