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Updated: May 14, 2025
No anxiety for his own safety troubled him one jot indeed, an unwonted extra excitement flooded his veins, making him enjoy himself with an added zest. Dmitry as usual awaited them at the hotel; his face was serene, but when Paul's back was turned for a moment while he lit a cigarette, the lady questioned her servant with whispered fierceness in the Russian tongue.
Trirodov left by the morning train for home, carrying with him Dmitry Matov's body. At home Trirodov put the body into a vessel containing a greenish liquid compounded by himself. Matov's body shrunk in it even more. It had become barely more than seven inches long. But as before all its proportions remained inviolate.
Dmitry had drawn back the curtains and extinguished the lights, and only the brilliant moon lit the scene; a splendid moon, two nights from the full. There she shone straight down upon them to welcome them to this City of Romance. What loveliness met Paul's view! A loveliness in which art and nature blended in one satisfying whole. "Darling," he said, "this is better than the Buergenstock.
Ah! this was terrible to hear but lately she was mending rapidly, only she had been too ill to plan or make any arrangements to see him. How all this made his heart ache! Something had told him his passionate anxiety had not been without cause. Dmitry continued: Madame's life was not a happy one, the Excellency must know, and the difficulties surrounding her had become formidable once or twice.
It seemed as if she, too, could not contain her impatience to be again in her lover's arms. "I will not question them to-night," she said when they arrived, and she saw Dmitry awaiting her on the steps. "To-night we will live and love at least, my Paul. Live and love in passionate bliss!" But she could not repress the flash of her eyes which appeared to annihilate the old servant.
And Paul was more or less comforted, but in moments of silence all through the day he seemed to hear the echo of the words The End. It was a beautiful apartment that Dmitry had found for them on the Grand Canal in Venice, in an old palace looking southwest.
Thirteen years later, in 1237, however, they returned. In less than five years they conquered every part of the vast Russian plains. Until the year 1380 when Dmitry Donskoi, Grand Duke of Moscow, beat them on the plains of Kulikovo, the Tartars were the masters of the Russian people. All in all, it took the Russians two centuries to deliver themselves from this yoke.
So I called Isaac out; an' the stranger grips 'en by the hand an' kisses 'en, sayin', 'Little father, take me to their graves. My name is Feodor Himkoff, an' my brother Dmitry was among the crew of the Viatka. You would know his body, if you buried it, for the second finger was gone from his right hand.
Dmitry always speaks of my birth with a reverence and awe quite out of proportion to its possible consequence poor old man. And once even the Grand Duke Peter spoke of my 'divine origin' though he could not be coaxed or wheedled into committing his wise self any further.
So they went in to their little hotel. She was all in white when Paul found her in their inner salon, where they were to dine alone, waited on only by Dmitry. Her splendid hair was bound with a fillet of gold, and fell in two long strands, twisted with gold, nearly to her knees. Her garment was soft and clinging, and unlike any garment he had ever seen.
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