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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Do you ever go in to see her, Miss Carvel?" I asked. "Sometimes. They do not like me to go," said she; "they think it is too depressing for me. I cannot tell why. Poor dear aunt! she used to be glad to see me. Is not it dreadfully sad? Can you imagine a man who has just seen his mother in such a condition, behaving as Paul Patoff behaves this evening? He talks as if nothing had happened."
"You do not suppose that Miss Carvel will marry Alexander Patoff in order to prevent his mother from murdering Paul?" "She ought to," answered Cutter, quietly. "It would be most curious to see whether there would be any change in her fixed dislike of the younger son." "And do you mean that that young girl should sacrifice her life to your experiments?" I asked, rather hotly.
It would be easy to write a book about society in Pera, and it would be a pleasant book. But these are not the days of Samuel Pepys; we have hardly passed the age of Mr. George Ticknor. In a short time after their arrival, and after the reappearance of Alexander Patoff, the Carvels knew everybody, and everybody knew them. Each member of the party found something to praise and some one to like.
Alexander had fallen a victim to his own folly, and though the penalty had been severe, it was impossible to hold the Ottoman government responsible for what Patoff had suffered, now that the Khanum had departed this life.
At one of the tables a middle-aged woman sat reading; as we entered she looked up at us, and I saw that she was one of the nurses in charge of Madame Patoff. She wore a simple gown of dark material, and upon her head a dainty cap of French appearance was pinned, with a certain show of taste.
Carvel and Miss Chrysophrasia Dabstreak, married a Russian in the year 1850, and was never mentioned after the Crimean War, until her son, Paul Patoff, being a diplomatist, made the acquaintance of his first cousin in the person of Macaulay Carvel, who happened to be third secretary in Berlin, when Paul passed through that capital, on his return from a distant post in the East.
"I beg your pardon, I heard you ask for Madame Patoff. Have I the honor of addressing her son?" "Yes," said Paul, bowing stiffly, for the man was evidently a gentleman. "May I ask to whom" "I am Dr. Cutter," replied the other, interrupting him. "Madame Patoff is ill, and I am taking care of her."
I cannot bear to see you cry like this!" Gradually the hysteric emotion spent itself, and Madame Patoff grew more calm. Then she spoke, and, to Hermione's amazement, she spoke connectedly. "Hermione, you must not betray my secret, you will not betray me? Swear that you will not, my child!" She was evidently suffering some great emotion.
Madame Patoff was well pleased with the place, and said so as she slowly climbed the narrow path, leaning on the professor's arm. The inn the old Gasthaus zum Goldenen Anker stands upon the very edge of the precipice above the tumbling Nagold, and is indeed partly built down the face of the cliff.
She knew that Madame Patoff had heard her, and that the best thing she could do was to ask admittance. "May I come in, aunt Annie?" she inquired, in trembling tones. "Come in," was the answer; but the voice was almost as uncertain as her own. She opened the door.
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