第 27 页

He was turning over the pages of an album as he talked to her. I had no reason to pay much attention to this tête-à-tête, and was not even intending to follow it, but once, near the end of the quadrille, my eyes being again turned by chance in Kondjé-Gul's direction, I saw her rise up all of a sudden, as if something that Daniel had said had excited her suddenly. I thought I saw her blush, raising her head proudly and answering him in an offended tone.

The dance being now over, I left Maud, and, agitated by an anxious kind of feeling, walked up to the boudoir. They were standing up, and Kiusko's back being turned to the door, he did not see me enter. Kondjé-Gul saw me and said:

"André, come and give me your arm!"

At this unusually bold request, Daniel could not repress a gesture of astonishment, and cast a bewildered glance at me. I advanced, and she seized my arm with a convulsive movement, and addressed herself to my rival:

"This is the second time, sir, that you have declared your love to me. Let me tell you why I decline it: I am the slave of Monsieur André de Peyrade, and I love him!"

If a thunderbolt had fallen at Daniel's feet, it could not have startled him more than this. He turned so pale that I thought he was going to faint. He gazed at both of us with a desperate and ferocious look, as if some terrible thought was revolving in his mind. His features were contracted into such a savage expression that I instinctively placed myself between him and Kondjé-Gul. But, all at once, frightened no doubt at his own passion, he gave one glance of despair and rage, and fled from the room. Kondjé-Gul was all of a tremble.

"What has happened, then—" I asked her.

"I will tell you all about it," she answered, in a voice still quivering with emotion. "I am going home with my mother. Come after us as soon as we are off."

CHAPTER XVII.

Half an hour later I joined Kondjé-Gul again at her house. She had sent Fanny out of the room, and was waiting for me. When she saw me, she threw her arm round my neck, and the long pent-up tears seemed to start from her eyes like a fountain.

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "what is it, then—"

And taking her on my knees like a child, I held her in my arms; but she soon recovered her energy.

"Listen, dear," she said in a firm voice, "you must forgive me for what I have just done: you must forgive me for having concealed my thoughts and my troubles from you, even at the risk of distressing you."

"I forgive you, everything," I answered immediately, "go on, tell me quickly."

"Well, then! For a whole week I have been deceiving you," she continued, "by telling you that I had no troubles, and that I did not know the cause of that sadness which I could not conceal from you. I was afraid of making you angry with my mother, by confessing to you that it was she who was tormenting me."

"Your mother!" I exclaimed: "and what had she to say to you, then—"

"You shall hear all," she said, with animation, "for I must justify myself for having kept a secret from you. I daresay you remember," she continued, "that a fortnight ago she spoke to me about your marriage, telling me that you were going to leave me."

"Yes, yes, I understand," I said. "What then—"

"My mother had made me promise to keep this revelation a secret, because it was necessary, so she said, that Count Kiusko should not suspect that we loved each other. She said that he had expressly attributed my refusal to become his wife to some hope which I doubtless entertained of marrying you."

"Well, go on; tell me what has occurred since."

"You know the state of trouble you found me in that night. I could not hold back my tears, and you commanded me to tell you all. At last you reassured me with so much warmth of feeling, that after that I did not believe anyone but you. Quite happy at the thought of sacrificing myself to your will, and to your peace of mind, I left off thinking about my alarms, and regretted them as an insult to our love; I repeated to my mother all your kind promises, and thought that I had set her mind at rest. Imagine my astonishment at hearing her, a few days afterwards, return to the subject: she had seen the count again, who had declared that your uncle would disinherit you if you did not carry out his wishes."

"And did you believe all that—"

"No," she replied promptly, "for you had not told me so! But then my mother, seeing that I would only believe you, changed her tactics: she spoke about Count Kiusko, his wealth, and his love for me."

"She did that, did she—"

"Oh, forgive her!" she continued; "she gets anxious both on my account and her own. She is alarmed about the future, and fancies she sees me deserted by you! Well, it was simply a cruel struggle for me, in which my heart could not betray you. I suffered through it, and that's all! But three days ago, I don't know what can have passed during your aunt's party, my mother, on our way home, said to me in a decided manner that she had resolved 'to live no longer among the infidels,' and intended 'to return to the land of the Faithful, in order to expiate the great wrong she had committed by living here.'

"I was dismayed at this resolution of hers. As she based it upon our faith, I could not oppose her, for that would have been a sacrilege, but I could at least invoke her affection for me, and entreat her not to leave. Then, while I was on my knees before her, and was kissing her and crying, she startled me by saying: 'You shall not leave me; for, when I go, I shall take you away with me'!"

"Why, she must be crazy!" I exclaimed.

"Well, dear," added Kondjé-Gul, "you can easily understand what a thunderbolt this was to me! I felt it so painfully that I nearly swooned away. My mother was alarmed and called for Fanny. The next day, I attempted to prevail upon her to change her mind, declaring that it would kill me to be separated from you. I thought I had mollified her, for she kissed me and said that all she cared about was my happiness. But this evening, while we were in the carriage on our way to Suzannah's, she spoke again to me about Count Kiusko. I have a presentiment that the greatest enemy to our love and happiness is that man; and that he it is who has been influencing my mother, hoping, no doubt, that when separated from you I should no longer be able to resist her wishes.

"Well, you know the rest, I had gone into the boudoir while you were dancing, when the count came and sat down by my side.—'Is it true that you are going away—' he said to me, after a minute or so. 'Who could make you believe such a thing—' I replied coldly. 'Why, something your mother told me which seemed to imply it.' I remained silent—he did not venture to follow up the subject, and said nothing more for a few minutes. I kept my eyes on a book which I was looking through, for I felt that his eyes were fixed upon me. 'Perhaps you will regret André a little,' he continued, 'but what can you do— He is not free,—and besides, do you suppose he would have loved you—'

"At this question, the cruel irony of which wounded me to the quick, I was possessed by some mad impulse, I raised my head and replied to him in such a scornful tone that he rose up in confusion. Just then you came in. I wished to overwhelm him with my contempt so as to destroy all further hopes he might cherish. You know what I said—"

"And quite right, too! For it was necessary to put a stop to his nonsense. I will attend to it."

"But what if my mother wants to separate us—"

"Your mother, indeed!" I exclaimed; "your mother who sold you, abandoned you to the life of a slave, do you think she can come and claim the rights which she has thrown away—"

"Can you defend me against her, then—"

"Yes, dear, I will defend you," I exclaimed in a passion, "and now set your mind at ease. There is a miserable plot at the bottom of all this, which I intend demolishing. When I leave you I am going to Count Kiusko, and I assure you that he sha'n't trouble you any more: after that I shall see your mother."

"Good heavens!" said Kondjé-Gul, "are you going to fight him—"

"No, no," I answered with a laugh, in order to remove her fears; "but you must understand that it is necessary for me to have an explanation with him."

In the morning I returned home and arranged all my affairs ready for any eventuality; then when all was in order I went after two of my friends, and asked them to hold themselves ready to act as my seconds in an affair which I might be compelled by grave circumstances to settle that very day. Having obtained their promise to do so, I proceeded to Kiusko's in the Rue de l'Elysée.

When I arrived at his house, I saw from the windows being open that he was up. A footman, who knew me, was standing under the peristyle. He told me that he did not think his master would see anyone then. I gave him my card and instructed him to send it up at once to the count. In a minute or two after he returned and asked me to come up to his master's private room: he showed me into a little smoking-room adjoining the bedroom, to which the count's intimate friends only are admitted. I had hardly entered it when Daniel appeared; he was dressed in a Moldavian costume which he uses as a dressing-gown.

"Hullo, here's our dear friend André!" he said when he saw me, in such an indifferent tone that I could detect in it the intentional affectation of a calmness to which his pale countenance gave the lie.

Still he did not hold out his hand to me, nor did I proffer mine; he sat down, indicating to me an arm-chair on the other side of the fire-place.

"What good fortune has brought you here so early this morning—" he continued, taking a few puffs at his cigar.

"Why, I should have thought you expected to see me," I replied, looking him straight in the face.

He returned my look with a smile.

"I expected you, without expecting you, as they say."

By the peculiar tone in which he uttered these words, I could see that he was determined to make me take the initiative in the matter upon which I had come.

"Very well!" I said, wishing to show him that I guessed his mind. "I will explain myself."

"I am all attention, my dear fellow," he answered.

"I have come to speak to you," I continued drily, "about Mademoiselle Kondjé-Gul Murrah, and about what passed yesterday between her and you."

"Ah, yes! I understand: you are referring to the somewhat severe lecture which I drew upon myself, and to the confidential communication she made me."

"Precisely so," I added; "you could not sum up the two points better than you have done: a lecture, and a confidence. Now as one outcome of the second point is that I am responsible for all Mademoiselle Murrah's acts, I have come to place myself at your command respecting the lecture she thought fit to give you."

"What nonsense, my dear fellow!" he exclaimed, puffing a cloud of smoke into the air. "After all I only had what I deserved, for I can only blame my own presumption. Besides the very anger of such a charming young lady is a favour to the man who incurs it, so that my only regret is that I offended her. I should therefore really laugh at myself to think that I could hold you responsible for this little incident: nay, I will go so far as to say that, strictly speaking, I should owe you an apology for what you might be justified in complaining of as an act of disloyalty between friends, but for the fact that I can plead as my excuse the complete ignorance in which you left me of certain mysterious relations. You must know very well that a simple word from you, my relative, my friend, would have made me stop short on the brink of the precipice."

I appreciated the reproachful irony concealed in this last sentence; but I had gone too far to trouble myself about remorses of conscience regarding him.

"So then," I replied, "you have nothing to say, no satisfaction to demand of me in respect to this lecture—"

"None whatever, my dear fellow!" he answered, in the same easy tone which he had preserved all along. "And I may add that there could be nothing more ridiculous than a quarrel between two friends like you and me upon such a matter!"

"Let's think no more about it then!" I continued, imitating his composure. "Since you take it so good-naturedly, I sha'n't press it. But, having settled this first point, it remains now for us to discuss what you have termed the confidence."

At this he could not repress a slight gesture. His dark eye flashed up, but for a moment only: he was soon quite calm again.

"Ah, yes!" he said carelessly; "now we've come to the second point."

"This is the point of importance for me," I added; "and I am going to ask you, on my side, what you propose to do after this revelation—"

"I must compliment you, my dear fellow, for upon my word it's a most wonderful romance. Do you really mean to say that this beautiful young lady whom we have all been admiring from a distance, fascinated by her charms, and who like a young queen has been starring it in the most aristocratic drawing-rooms of your society, exciting enthusiastic praise wherever she goes,—that she is your slave——You must admit that no mortal man could help envying you!"

"Do your compliments," I continued, "imply an engagement, on your part, to abandon importunities, which you now recognise to be useless—"

"Oh, indeed!" he exclaimed, with a laugh; "so you're going to ask me now to make my confession—"

Exasperated by this imperturbable composure of his, which I could not break down, I again looked him straight in the face, and asked—

"Do you mean to say you refuse to understand me—"

"No, my good sir!" he answered, resuming his peculiar smile, "I understand you perfectly well; you want to pick a quarrel with me, or to force me to demand satisfaction from you for a matter to which I do not attach as much importance as you do. Between ourselves, a duel would be an act of folly."

"Do you understand, at any rate," I retorted, "that I forbid your ever presenting yourself before Mademoiselle Kondjé-Gul Murrah again—"