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Updated: June 18, 2025
Only the baronet's friends knew that they sometimes hardened because of the softness behind their gaze. Paul's heart, indeed, rose in revolt against the suggestion that this man should for a moment presume to reach out and touch the hand of Mademoiselle Vseslavitch. Not for such a man as Boris was the girl with the calm yet, at the same time, troubled eyes, that had looked out from the picture.
It is some years since I have seen him, but in London he came often to the Embassy." The elder lady did not perceive the somewhat startled look on the face of Mademoiselle Vseslavitch. "I shall have him take you in to dinner, my dear," she continued. "He is most charming company when he wishes to be, I assure you." "Oh, Countess, no!" the young woman cried.
And then, in a flash, he recalled the name "Boris" which Mademoiselle Vseslavitch had spoken; at that moment, too, Paul placed the personality of the Frenchman Virot. He and the fat man of Lucerne were one. Boris's eyes left those of Paul and studied the panel behind the baronet's head.
A tiny object to work such an effect, but it was enough to bring Paul to a round halt. There, looking up at him from the card, was the face of the woman he had come to see Mademoiselle Vseslavitch.
Down the hill they went and so into the space about the cathedral, where busy women had set out their wares poultry, pottery, vegetables and the like. More than one head was turned to note the quick, silent passage of Mademoiselle Vseslavitch. Hers, indeed, was a physique which could not have escaped notice, no matter what its surroundings.
If he could but establish that, then Boris's boast that he would marry Mademoiselle Vseslavitch was vain indeed. Sir Paul was, indeed, confronted by a very Gordian knot of problems. He laughed a little as he made the simile to himself, until he reflected that he was not an Alexander armed with a sword who could disperse the problems at one blow.
All unconscious of Paul's presence only a few short steps away Mademoiselle Natalie Vseslavitch, for so we will call her until she herself chooses to reveal more, had rushed to her rooms, her heart almost overwhelmed by a new and dreadful burden. The tidings she had left Lucerne to know, whose bearer was the black-bearded gentleman, which had so aroused Paul's curiosity, were simply these.
It cost him a pretty sum to purchase the confidence of half-suspicious porters, but by the time he had worked through the list with which the friendly servitor had provided him he had come to the conclusion that Mademoiselle Vseslavitch was, of a certainty, not in one of these hostelries. Was she still in Langres? The doubt troubled Paul greatly.
"You are too kind, my dear lady!" he exclaimed. "You are a real fairy-god-mother. See, with your magic wand you have touched the mountain in my path and it is gone. And now, god-mother," he said, almost gaily, "tell me who is this beautiful lady?" "Ah! that you must learn from her own lips. Simply Mademoiselle Vseslavitch she must be to you until she wills it otherwise."
I shall have to presume upon your good nature to ask your advice and help once more. To come to the point at once: Yesterday, here in your house, I told Mademoiselle Vseslavitch that I loved her. To-day she is gone, where I do not know." Paul looked at his companion with appealing eyes. "My dear friend!" the Countess exclaimed, with truly feminine irrelevancy, "I am delighted.
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