High Noon Part 6

As time went on he glanced up and down the street, watching everyone's approach with interest. Towards half-past four his attention was aroused by the appearance of a man whose aspect was out of keeping with the little street.

The stranger was above middle height, and bore himself with a certain air of quiet dignity. He was dressed in black, his clothes being well cut, though of obviously foreign tailoring.

It was the man's face, however, which riveted Paul's attention. It was very dark, and the nose was somewhat flat; not at all the prevailing French type. Yet it was a face of great refinement and distinction, accentuated in a strange way by a long, black, and well-trimmed beard.

The man, plainly, was not a Frenchman, nor, Paul decided, was he a German; certainly he was not an Italian nor an Austrian. A subtle something about the man's whole appearance, indeed, brought Verdayne to the conclusion that he was a Russian.

And then that rare gift of intuition which had always been Paul's great aid in times of trouble told him that this dignified and daintily-walking stranger was in some manner connected with Mademoiselle Vseslavitch's presence at the _Hotel de la Republique_.

So certain of this was he that at once he took the precaution of drawing further back into the _cafe_, where he could sit in the shadows and watch the pa.s.sage of the stranger without arousing any interest himself.

Twice the black-bearded man walked up the street, glancing sharply at the _Republique_, and twice he walked back with the same meditative and dilatory air. Then he turned the corner and disappeared.

The proprietor of the inn busied himself about the _cafe_, and, seeming curious about the visitor's long sojourn, Paul ordered a further supply of the chicory-like coffee.

It was not long before his patience was rewarded. There was some bustle about the door of the inn, and then he saw the fat landlady bowing and sc.r.a.ping on the white doorstep, and out of the shadows into the sunshine stepped the girl he had come to find.

Dressed all in black and thickly veiled, Mademoiselle Vseslavitch came quickly out of the doorway and walked down the street.

Paul, who had previously taken the precaution to settle his score, immediately rose and walked after her.

The street was so narrow and there were so many people about that he had to follow pretty closely in order to avoid losing her. He noted with some surprise that she walked straight ahead, as though with studied purpose, never faltering and never so much as glancing to the right or to the left.

Down the hill they went and so into the s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.sage of Mademoiselle Vseslavitch. Hers, indeed, was a physique which could not have escaped notice, no matter what its surroundings.

On the market-square, having a clearer view before him, Paul slackened his pace and allowed the distance to increase between them.

Still the beautiful Russian lady walked straight ahead, as one who follows an oft-trodden path and knows full well whither that path leads.

She moved up the cathedral steps, and as she did so Paul saw approaching the sombre figure of the black-bearded man whose presence in the little street by the _Hotel de la Republique_ had aroused his interest earlier in the morning.

But though their steps were evidently leading them to the same spot, neither the black-bearded man nor Mademoiselle Vseslavitch made the least sign that either was aware of the other's presence. The girl pa.s.sed into the cathedral, the man following closely on her heels.

In fear of losing sight of them Paul almost ran across the square and darted up the cathedral steps. But for all his speed his feet fell silently, so that neither the girl nor the man who followed her, heard.

CHAPTER IX

Once in the cathedral, Paul paused in his pursuit.

The picturesque interior was aglow with the declining rays of the sun, which streamed through a large window behind the organ upon a great silver Calvary surmounting the high altar, and gilded the white caps of a handful of old _bourgeoises_ sprinkled here and there in the straight-backed pews.

The bell tolled and a low murmuring began. They were reciting the Office of the Rosary. Paul was stirred by the scene as never before by any devotional services and in spite of his eager desire to learn more about the dark-eyed lady, all through the prayers and responses he was rapt as in some mystic spell. With the _benedicite_ by the young abbe, a column of incense rose before the Calvary, a moving pearl-coloured shaft in the soft light, for the sun had set. And as the cantors and the pious folk at worship sang _Tantum ergo_ the Host was borne out through the gate at the east end of the choir to the Lady altar.

To Paul it seemed as if the full meaning of the Roman Catholic faith was borne upon him for the first time. With a tremendous influence upon his emotions, its intimate relation with the soul and the sentiment of the human hearts gathered there quickened the utmost depths of his nature. Having thus witnessed that impressive service, it was impossible for him to feel that he was not one with it, and of it; and all differences of religious creeds escaped his mind.

Surely, he thought, this is a communion of the spirit--the fruit of simple feeling and natural impulse. For the moment he had forgotten that he was the descendant of a long line of staunch supporters of the Church of England.

The singing ceased, and still Paul stood with head uncovered. In his exaltation the thought came to him that this vision so like his Queen, which he was seeking here in this byway of the earth, had been sent to him by his dear Lady. Had she not told him that although parted from him in the flesh, she would always be with him in the spirit? And now that her beautiful being had been borne away from this world of strife, was it not possible that by some intercession she had been able to send another, almost as divine as herself, to comfort and strengthen him?

From that time the impulse which had sent Paul on his search was fired by some mysterious, guiding hand. His quest became a sacred duty.

Filled with the new mission, seized by a sudden fervour as were the knights in olden days, crusaders who had made their vows on the cross in that very sanctuary, Paul moved quietly towards the chancel, there to bespeak a blessing.

With outstretched hand the priest murmured the words Paul craved. Then he rose, and was walking slowly toward the door of the transept, when he came to an image of the Virgin, before which a single candle burned. And there, before the sacred figure, knelt the lovely object of his pilgrimage. Impressed by a reverence of the scene, Paul pa.s.sed on, filled with a holy joy. At last he felt a strange exalting peace.

Paul little dreamed the nature of the lady's prayers. Conscious of the suddenly awakened love, which that feverish kiss had stirred to life within her, she had come to the cathedral to seek for spiritual help.

She had felt the need of some higher will than her own to strengthen her resolve to steel her heart against this fiery wooer. She was filled with an almost irresistible longing to throw herself into his arms and confess her quickening love. And that she knew too well she must not do.

At last she lifted her bowed head, and rising slowly to her feet, she genuflected before the altar. Then she turned and slipped through a door of a small side chapel, into which the black-bearded man closely followed. Paul's instinct was to follow, too, and, in the calm security of a mind made up, he retraced his steps down the aisle.

He saw that it would be impossible for him to approach the side chapel by the same way as the black-bearded stranger had, if he wished to remain un.o.bserved. So he turned aside and drew near to the chapel by another way, sheltering himself behind the pillars, which cast deep shadows on the floor.

Paul was following his old stalking habit, which he had acquired when in pursuit of big game among the Rockies. Yet with all his care he almost blundered into his quarry. For, as he moved silently round a pillar, he became conscious that he was so near to the lady that he could have stretched out his hand and touched her.

In an instant he drew back and stood still behind a ma.s.sive column. He could see nothing, but he could hear the voices of the girl and her companion in low and earnest conversation.

At first it was the man who did most of the talking, and from what few of his words he could catch Paul judged him to be speaking in French.

He droned on for some minutes, and then his voice died away.

Mademoiselle Vseslavitch now asked several questions in quiet, low tones. The man answered sharply and incisively, and it seemed to Paul that there was command in his voice.

For a while there was a complete silence, which at last was broken by long, choking sobs. Edging a little farther round the pillar, Paul saw the lady kneeling upon a _prie-dieu_ as though in an abandonment of grief. She was crying as though her heart would break, her face buried in her hands. The sombre man stood by like some tall shadow, silent and unmoving.

A quick and great desire to go to her aid, to gather her into his arms and comfort her, took possession of Verdayne. But great as his desire was, he forced it down, recognizing that the moment had not come for him to intervene.

Presently the sombre man moved closer to Mademoiselle Vseslavitch's side, and, putting out a gloved hand, touched her lightly, and with the air of one offering silent sympathy, on the shoulder.

Paul heard him murmuring what must have been words of comfort, and before long she lifted her face and resolutely wiped away her tears.

Then she rose and went forward to the altar, on the steps of which she knelt and prayed. Finally she came back to the black-bearded man and held out her hand, and Paul saw with still growing wonder that the man bent over it as though with great respect and brushed her fingers with his lips. Without any further word she walked quickly and quietly away, making for the door through which she had entered the cathedral.

The man, with a little sigh, picked up his hat and followed her, Paul hard upon his heels.

Outside in the sunshine, Verdayne watched the fair Russian make across the square by the way which she had come. Her companion turned abruptly to the right and walked rapidly away.

Paul followed her till she came to the _Hotel de la Republique_, when she disappeared through the doorway.

Darkness fell and Paul saw no more of his beautiful Russian. In spite of all his efforts she still remained as great a mystery as ever.

Almost beside himself with impatience, he returned to the hotel. Many wild, almost boyish, schemes, by which he hoped he could meet the lady entered his head. Most of them Paul rejected--and none of them could be put into execution, for the one responsible for their conception remained hid in the little _hotel_.

Considerably at odds with the world, he went in to dinner, the excellence of which did not dispel his gloom.