United States or Bhutan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Besides, I long to be on the move; Paris, London, the world, in short, bores me, bores me, bores me!" "The fact is, it is stupid, egotistical and cowardly," responded Labanoff. He again held out to Menko his nervous hand, burning, like his blue eyes, with fever. "Farewell!" he said. "No, no, 'au revoir'!" "'Au revoir' be it then. I will let you know what has become of me." "And where you are?"
She regretted having allowed Andras to depart without having told him on the spot, the secret of her life. She would not see him again until the next day, and she felt as if she could never live through the long, dull hours. She stood at the window, wrapped in thought, gazing mechanically before her, and still hearing the voice of Michel Menko hissing like a snake in her ear.
There was a sort of Oriental grace about Marsa, with her willowy figure, flexible as a Hindoo convolvulus, and her dark Arabian eyes fringed with their heavy lashes. Michel Menko took in all the details of her beauty, and evidently suffered, suffered cruelly, his eyes invincibly attracted toward her.
As they drew away from Paris, passing the quays of Passy and the taverns of Point-du-jour, tables on wooden horses were rapidly erected, and covered with snowy cloths; and soon the guests of the Prince were seated about the board, Andras between Marsa and the Baroness, and Michel Menko some distance down on the other side of the table.
Greatly moved, pulling his moustache, and glancing with a sort of uneasiness at Prince Andras, who was promenading on the bank with the Baroness, Michel Menko paused before addressing Marsa, who had not perceived his approach, and who was evidently far away in some day-dream. Gently, hesitatingly, and in a low voice, he at last spoke her name: "Marsa!"
"After all," he said to himself, "we shall soon find out. Monsieur Puck must be less difficult to unearth than Michel Menko." He rang for his valet, and was about to go out, when Yanski Varhely was announced. The old Hungarian looked troubled, and his brows were contracted in a frown.
Menko asked the question mechanically, feeling very little curiosity to know Labanoff's secret; but the Russian's face wore a strange, ironical smile as he answered: "I have nothing to say on that subject, even to the man for whom I have the most regard." His brilliant eyes seemed to see strange visions before them. He remained silent for a moment, and then rose with an abrupt movement.
He must know, however, that his case is what shall I say? embarrassing, very embarrassing. I don't suppose he had any idea of conspiring. He is a malcontent, this Menko, a malcontent! He would have made his mark in our embassies. The devil take him! Ah! my dear Count, it is very embarrassing, very embarrassing!"
Valla had assured him that he could rely on him for any service; and Varhely left Vienna, certain that he should find Manin's old minister at Florence. "After all, he has not changed so much," he said to himself, thinking of Josef Ladany. "Without his aid, Menko would certainly have escaped me. Ladany has taken the times as they are: Zilah and I desire to have them as they should be.
All that hideous love she had believed lay buried in Pau as in a tomb. "Listen, Marsa," continued Menko, suddenly recovering, by a strong effort of the will, his coolness, "I must see you once again, have one more opportunity to plead my cause.
Word Of The Day