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Updated: May 14, 2025
But at least he was in touch with her again and knew she was his own his own. The silence had broken, and human ingenuity would find some way of meeting. The postmark was Vienna though that meant nothing at all; she could have sent Dmitry there to post the letter. But at best, even if it were Russia, a few days' journey only separated him from his darling and his son!
And then the faithful servant took up Anna's tale. How this good girl had been watching on the side of the villa towards the town, and had heard the King come battering at the gate. How she had flown to warn her mistress, but that the Imperatorskoye had sent her back to watch, saying she herself would call Dmitry to protect them.
He came with cringing diffidence, prostrating himself to the ground before her, and kissing the hem of her dress, mute adoration in his dark eyes, like those of a faithful dog a great scar showing blue on his bronzed cheek and forehead. She questioned him imperiously, while he answered humbly in fear. Dmitry stood by, an anxious, strained look on his face, and now and then he put in a word.
It was all arranged with consummate simplicity. Paul was to start for a climb, he told his valet, and for a week they would leave Lucerne. Mme. Zalenska was not very well, it appeared, and consented to try, at the suggestion of the amiable manager inspired by Dmitry a few days in higher air.
Yes, notwithstanding his strange form and his distressing immobility, Dmitry Matov was not dead. The potentiality of life slept dormant in that solid object. Trirodov thought more than once as to whether the time had not come to rehabilitate Matov and return him to the world of the living. He had not decided upon this before.
"No neither could I bear not to see you, sweetheart, but we must not be foolish. You must stay on in our rooms and each morning I will meet you somewhere in the launch. Dmitry knows every inch of the lake, and we can pass most of days thus, happy at last " "But the nights!" said Paul, deep distress in his voice. "What on earth do you think I can do with the nights?"
Surely Dmitry would come with some message before very long, if he was patient and waited her pleasure. But ten o'clock struck and there was no sign. Only the English youth, Percy Trevellian, had got into conversation with him, and was proposing billiards to pass the time. Paul loved billiards but not to-night. Heavens! what an idea! Go off to the billiard-room now to-night!
But this should no more be so, and he wrote at once to Dmitry. By return of post came the answer. The Excellency indeed would be welcome. The Regent the Grand Duke Peter had bidden him say that if the Excellency should be travelling for pleasure, as the nobility of his country often did, he would gladly be received by the Regent, who was himself a great chasseur and voyageur.
There is nothing so irritates me as these English answers. Should I have asked you to select our day had I decided myself? I would have commanded Dmitry to make the arrangements, that is all. But no! to-day I am thy obedient one. I ask my Love to choose for me. To-morrow I may want my own will; to-day I desire only thine, beloved," and she leant forward and looked into his eyes.
Ah! the very thought was ecstasy to him, and made the blood bound in his veins. "When, when, my darling?" he asked. "Tomorrow? When?" "To-day is Friday," she said. "One must give Dmitry time to make the arrangements and take a palace for us. Shall we say Sunday, Paul? I shall go on Sunday, and you can follow the next day so by Tuesday evening we shall be together again, not to part until the end."
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