Our Own Set Part 23

"Yes, yes," said Von Klinger soothingly, "I will see to it at once.

Would you be good enough to stay till I return?" he added to Truyn and he hurried away.

For a few minutes not a word was spoken, then Sterzl began:

"Do you know how it all happened, Count?" Truyn bowed. "And you, Zini?"

asked Cecil, looking sadly at the girl's white face. "I know that you are suffering--that is all I want to know," she replied.

"Oh! Zini...." Sterzl struggled for breath and held out his hand to Zinka, then he went on in a hoa.r.s.e and hardly audible voice: "Zini ... b.u.t.terfly ... it was all my doing ... I have spoilt your life ... I did it...."

She tried to stop him: "You must not excite yourself," she said, leaning over him tenderly; "forget all that till you are better--I know that you have always loved me and that you would have fetched the stars from heaven for me if you could have reached them."

He shuddered convulsively: "No, Zini, no ... you might have had the stars," he said in a panting staccato; "the finest stars. Sempaly was not to blame ... only I ... the prince had agreed ... but I ... I forgot myself ... and I spoilt it all ... oh, a drink of water, Zini, please!..."

She gave him the water and he drank it greedily; but when she gently tried to stop his mouth with her hand he pushed it away, and went on eagerly, though with a fast failing voice: "No ... I must tell you ...

it is a weight upon my soul. There, in my desk ... Count ... in the little pocket on the left ... there is a letter for Zinka.--Give it her...."

Truyn did his bidding. The letter was sealed and addressed to Zinka in Cecil's fine firm hand. She opened it; it contained the note that Sempaly had written before starting for Frascati and Sterzl had added a few words of explanation in case it should not fall into Zinka's hands till after his death.

She read it all while the dying man anxiously watched her face, but her expression did not alter by a shade. Sempaly's words glided over her heart without touching it; even when she had read both notes she did not speak. Two red flames burnt in her pale cheeks.

"I got ... the note ... too late," said Sterzl sadly, "the general ...

can tell you how ... how it all happened ... I lost my head ... but he ... he is safe, so you must forgive me ... and do ... act ... as if I had never existed ... then ... I shall rest ... in peace ... and be happy in ... my grave ... if I know ... that you are ... happy."

Still she did not speak; her eyes were strangely overcast; but it was not with grief for her lost happiness. Suddenly she tore the note across and dropped the pieces on the floor.

"If he had written ten letters," she cried, "it would have made no difference now; do not let that worry you, Cecil--it is all at an end.

Even if there were no gulf between us I could never be his wife! I have ceased to love him.--How mean he is in my eyes--compared with you!"

And so the brother and sister were at one again; the discord was resolved.

For more than four and twenty hours Cecil wrestled with death and Zinka never left his side. The certainty of their mutual and complete devotion was a melancholy consolation in the midst of this cruel parting. The pain he suffered was agonizing; particularly during the night and the early morning; but he bore it with superb fort.i.tude and it was only by the nervous clenching of his hands and the involuntary distortion of his features that he betrayed his suffering. He hardly for a moment slept; he refused the opiate sent by the surgeon; he wished to "keep his head" as long as possible.

When Zinka--with a thousand tender circ.u.mlocutions--suggested to him that he should receive the last sacraments of the Church he agreed. "If it will be any comfort to you, b.u.t.terfly," he sighed; and he received the priest with reverent composure.

In the afternoon he was easier--Zinka began to hope.

"You are better," she whispered imploringly, "you are better, are you not?"

"I am in less pain," he said, and then she began making plans for the future--he smiled sadly.

No man could die with a better grace, and yet it was hard to die.

The catastrophe had roused universal sympathy. The terrible news had spread like wildfire through the city and a sort of panic fell on the rank and fashion of Rome. No one, that day, who had ever spoken a spiteful or a flippant word against Sterzl or his sister, failed to feel a p.r.i.c.k of remorse. Every one came or sent to the palazetto to enquire for them. Now and again the baroness would come in triumphantly, in her hand a particularly distinguished visiting-card with its corner turned down, and rustle up to the bedside: "Ilsenbergh came himself to the door to ask after you!"

Late in the day he fell into an uneasy sleep; Zinka and the general did not quit the room. The window was open but the air that blew in through the Venetian blinds was damp and sultry. The street was strewn with straw; the roll of the carriages in the Corso came, dulled by distance, up to the chamber of death. Then twilight fell and the rumbling echoes were still. Presently, the slow irregular tramp of a crowd broke the silence, with the accompaniment of a solemn but dismal chant Zinka sprang up to close the window; but she was not quick enough. The sleeper had opened his weary eyes and was listening--: "A funeral!" he muttered.

After this he could not rest, and his sufferings began once more. He tossed on his pillow, talked of his will, begging the general to make a note of certain trifling alterations; and when Zinka entreated him not to torment himself but to think of that by-and-bye, he shook his head, and murmured in a voice that was hoa.r.s.e and tremulous with pain: "No, I am in a hurry ... time presses ... railway fever ... railway fever ..."

When Zinka, unable to control herself, was leaving the room to hide her tears, he desired her to remain:

"Only stop by me ... do not leave me, Zini," he said. "Cry if it is a relief to you ... but stay here ... poor little b.u.t.terfly!... yes, you will miss me...."

Once only did he lose his self-command. It was late in the evening. He had begged them to send to the emba.s.sy for an English newspaper which would give some information as to a certain political matter in which he was particularly interested; the amba.s.sador himself brought it to his bedside.

"How are you?... how are you now?" he asked with sincere emotion ...

"You were quite right, Sterzl. Ignatiev has done exactly as you said; you have a wonderful power of divination ... I shall miss you desperately when you go to Constantinople...." and his excellency fairly broke down.

There was a painful pause. "I am going further than Constantinople...."

Sterzl murmured at length. "I should like to know who will get my place...." His voice failed him and he groaned as he hid his face in the pillow.

The end came at midnight. Dr. E---- had warned the general that it would be terrible; but it was in vain that they tried to persuade Zinka to leave the room. The whole night through she knelt by the dying man's bed in her tumbled white dressing-gown--praying.

At about five in the morning his moaning ceased. Was all over? No, he spoke again; a strange, far-away look, peculiar to the dying, came into his eyes. "Do not cry, little one--it will all come right...." and then he felt about with his hands as if he were seeking for something--for some idea that had escaped him. He gazed at his sister. "Go to bed, Zini--I am better ... sleepy ... Constanti...." He turned his head to the wall and breathed deeply. He had started on his journey.

The general closed his eyes and drew Zinka away. Outside in the corridor stood a crushed and miserable man--it was Sempaly. Pale, wretched, and restless, he had stolen into the palazetto, and as he stood aside his hands trembled, his eyes were haggard. She did not shrink from him as she went by--she did not see him!

A glorious morning shone on the little garden-court. In a darkly-shady corner a swarm of blue b.u.t.terflies were fluttering over the gra.s.s like atoms fallen from the sky. It was the corner in which the Amazon stood.

CHAPTER VII.

Thanks to Siegburg's always judicious indiscretion all Rome knew ere long that Prince Sempaly had consented to Zinka's marriage with his brother the evening before the duel, and at the same time it heard of Sterzl's burst of anger and its fearful expiation. Princess Vulpini's unwavering friendship, which during these few days she took every opportunity of displaying, silenced evil tongues and saved Zinka's good name. Now, indeed, there was a general and powerful revulsion of feeling in Sterzl's favor. It suddenly became absurd, petty, in the very worst taste, to doubt Zinka--Zinka and Cecil had always been exceptional natures....

Sterzl had expressed a wish to be buried at home; the body was embalmed and laid in a large empty room, where, once upon a time, the baroness had wanted to give a ball. There were flowers against the wall, and on the floor. The bier was covered with them; it was a complete Roman _Infiorata_, The windows were darkened with hangings and the dim ruddy light of dozens of wax-tapers filled the room. Countess Ilsenbergh and the Jatinskys came to this lying in state; distinguished company, in ceremonial black, crowded round the coffin. Never had the baroness had so full a 'day' and her sentimental graces showed that, even under these grim circ.u.mstances, she felt this as a satisfaction. She stood by the bier in flowing robes loaded with c.r.a.pe, a black-bordered handkerchief in her hand, and a tear on each cheek, and--received her visitors. They pressed her hand and made sympathetic speeches and she murmured feebly: "You are so good--it is so comforting."

Having spoken to the mother, they turned to look for the sister; every one longed to express, or at least to show, their sincere sympathy for her dreadful sorrow. But she was not in the crowd--not to be seen, till a lady whispered: "There she is," and in a dark recess. Princess Vulpini was discovered with a quivering, sobbing creature, as pale as death and drowned in tears; but no one ventured to intrude on her grief No one but Nini, who looked almost as miserable as Zinka herself, and who went up to her, and put her arms round her, and kissed her.

Next day ma.s.s was performed in the chapel of San-Marco, adjoining the emba.s.sy, and a quartette of voices sang the same pathetic allegretto from the seventh symphony that had been played, hardly three months since, for the 'Lady Jane Grey' tableau.

A week later the Sterzls quitted Rome. Up to the very last the baroness was receiving visits of condolence, and to the very last she repeated her monotonous formula of lament:

"And on the threshold of such a splendid career!"

Zinka was never in the drawing-room, and very few ventured to go to her little boudoir. Wasted to a shadow, with sunken, cried-out eyes and pinched features, it was heart-rending to see her; and after the first violence of her grief was spent she seemed even more inconsolable. It is so with deep natures. Our first sorrow over the dead is always mixed with a certain rebellion against fate--it is a paroxysm in which we forget everything--even the cause of our pa.s.sionate tears. It is not till we have dried our eyes and our heart has raged itself into weariness--not till we have at last said to ourselves: "submit," that we can measure the awful gap that death has torn in our life, or know how empty and cold and silent the world has become.

Every day made Zinka feel more deeply what it was that she had lost.

She was always feeling for the strong arm which had so tenderly supported her. The general and Princess Vulpini did everything in their power to help her through this trying phase, but the person with whom she felt most at her ease was Truyn; and very often, after seven in the evening, when she was sure of meeting no one, she stole off to visit Gabrielle; it was touching to see how the little girl understood the trouble of her older friend, and how sweetly she would caress and pet her.

On the morning of their departure Truyn and the general saw them off from the station. After the ladies were in the carriage Truyn got in too, to open or close the windows and blinds; when he had done this Zinka put out her hand:

"G.o.d bless you, for all your kindness," she said, and as she spoke she put up her face to give him a kiss.

For an instant he hesitated then he signed her forehead with a cross, and bending down touched her hair with his lips.

"_Au revoir_," he murmured in a half-choked voice, he bowed to the baroness and jumped out. As he watched the train leave the station his face was crimson and his eyes sparkled strangely; and he stood bareheaded to catch the last glimpse of a pale little face at the window.