The Red Symbol Part 40

But I could have carried her, easily as Loris was doing, if I'd had the chance and the right.

Yet his was the right; I knew that well, for I had seen the look in her eyes as she greeted him just now. How could I have been such a conceited fool as to imagine she loved me, even for a moment! What I had dared to hope--to think--was love, was nothing of the kind; merely frank _camaraderie_. It was in that spirit she had welcomed me; calling me "Maurice," as she had done during the last week or two of her stay at Mary's; but somehow I felt that though we had met again at last, she was immeasurably removed from me; and the thought was a bitter one! She loved me in a way,--yes, as her friend, her good comrade. Well, hadn't I told myself for months past that I must be content with that?

CHAPTER XLII

THE DESERTED HUNTING LODGE

Our own horses were already at the appointed place, together with Pavloff and the Duke's little band of "recruits;" st.u.r.dy young _moujiks_ these, as I saw now by the gray light of dawn, cleaner and more intelligent-looking than most of their cla.s.s.

They were freshly horsed, for they had taken advantage of the confusion in the town to "commandeer" re-mounts,--as they say in South Africa.

There were horses for Anne, and her cousin, too. Pavloff, like his son, was a man who forgot nothing.

Anne had already revived from the faintness that overcame her on the steps of the synagogue. I had heard her talking to Loris, as we came along; more than once she declared she was quite able to walk, but he only shook his head and strode on.

He set her down now, and seemed to be demurring about her horse. I heard her laugh,--how well I knew that laugh!--though I had already swung myself into the saddle and edged a little away.

"It is not the first time I have had to ride thus. Look you, Maurice, it goes well enough, does it not?" she said, riding towards me.

I had to look round at that.

She was mounted astride, as I've seen girls ride in the Western States.

She had slipped off the skirt of her dark riding-habit, and flung it over her right arm; and was sitting square in her saddle, her long coat reaching to the tops of her high riding-boots.

I felt a lump come to my throat as I looked at the gallant, graceful figure, at the small proud head with its wealth of bright hair gleaming under the little astrachan cap that she wore, at the white face with its brave smile.

I knew well that she was all but dead-beat, and that she only laughed lest she might weep, or faint again.

"It goes well indeed, _capitaine_," I answered, with a military salute.

Pavloff, still on foot, came forward and stood beside her, speaking in a low growl; he was an elder edition of his son Mishka.

She listened, looking down at him gravely and kindly. I could not take my eyes from her face, so dear and familiar, and yet in one way so changed. I guessed wherein the change lay. When I had known her before she had only been playing a part, posing as a lovely, light-hearted, capriciously coquettish girl, without a real care in the world. But now I saw her without the mask, knew her for what she was, the woman who was devoting her youth, her beauty, her brilliant talents, to a great cause,--a well-nigh hopeless one,--and I loved her more than ever, with a pa.s.sionate fervor that, I honestly declare, had no taint of selfishness in it. From that moment I told myself that it was enough for me merely to be near her, to serve her, shield her perhaps, and count, as a rich reward, every chance word or thought or smile she might bestow on me.

"Yes, it is well; your duty lies there," I heard her say. "G.o.d be with you, old friend; and farewell!"

She slipped her right hand out of its loose leather glove, and held it out to him.

When I first saw her at Chelsea, I had decided that hers were the most beautiful hands in the world, not small, but exquisitely shaped,--hands that, in their graceful movements, somehow seemed to convey a subtle idea of power and versatility. She never wore rings. I remembered how Mary once remarked on this peculiarity, and Anne had answered that she did not care for them.

"But you've quite a lot in your jewel case, lovely old ones; you ought to wear them, Anne," Mary protested, and Anne's eyes had darkened as they always did in moments of emotion.

"They were my mother's. Father gave them me years ago, and I always carry them about with me; but I never wear them," she said quietly.

The remembrance of this little episode flashed through my mind as I saw her hold out her ringless hand,--begrimed now with dirt and smoke, with a purple mark like a bruise between the thumb and first finger, that showed me she had been one of the firing party.

Pavloff bared his s.h.a.ggy head, and bent over the hand as if it had been that of an empress; then moved away and went plump on his knees before Loris.

"Where is he going?" I asked Anne, ranging my horse alongside.

"Back to his work, like the good man he is," she said, her eyes fixed on Loris, who had raised the old steward and was speaking to him rapidly and affectionately. "He came thus far lest we should have need of him; perhaps also because he would say farewell to me,--since we shall not meet again. But now he will return and continue his duty at Zostrov as long as he is permitted to do so. That may not be long,--but still his post is there."

"They will murder him, as some of them tried to murder the Duke last night," I said. "You have heard of the explosion?"

She nodded, but made no comment, and, as Pavloff mounted and rode off alone, Loris also mounted and joined us with Va.s.silitzi, and the four of us started at a hand-gallop, a little ahead of the others. Loris rode on Anne's right hand, I on her left, and I noticed, as I glanced at her from time to time, how weary and wistful her face was, when the transient smile had vanished; how wide and sombre the eyes that, as I knew of old, changed with every mood, so that one could never determine their color; at one moment a sparkling hazel, at another--as now--dark and mysterious as the sky on a starless night.

The last part of our route lay through thick woods, where the cold light of the dawn barely penetrated as yet, though the foliage was thin overhead, and the autumn leaves made a soft carpet on which our horses'

hoofs fell almost without a sound.

We seemed to move like a troop of shadows through that ghostly twilight.

One could imagine it an enchanted forest, like those of our nursery tales, with evil things stirring in the brakes all about us, and watching us unseen. Once there came a long-drawn wail from near at hand; and a big wolf, homing to his lair at the dawning, trotted across the track just ahead, and bared his fangs in a snarl before he vanished. A few minutes later another sound rang weirdly above the stealthy whispers of the forest,--the scream of some creature in mortal fear and pain.

"That is a horse that the wolves are after--or they've got him!"

exclaimed Va.s.silitzi. He and I were leading now, for the track was only wide enough for two to ride abreast. We quickened our pace, though we were going at a smart trot, and as a second scream reached our ears, ending abruptly in a queer gurgle, we saw in front a shapeless heap, from which two shadowy forms started up growling, but turned tail and vanished, as the other wolf had done, as we galloped towards them.

The fallen horse was a s.h.a.ggy country nag, with a rope bridle and no saddle. The wolves had fastened on his throat, but he was not yet dead, and as I jumped down and stood over him he made a last convulsive effort to rise, glaring at me piteously with his blood-flecked eyes. We saw then that his fore-leg was broken, and I decided the best thing to do was to put the beast out of his misery. So I did it right then with a shot in his ear.

"He has been ridden hard; he was just about spent when he stumbled on that fallen trunk and fell, and that was some time since," said Va.s.silitzi, looking critically at the quivering, sweat-drenched carcase.

"Now, what does it mean? If the wolves had chased him,--and they are not so bold now as in the winter,--they would have had him down before, and his rider too; but they had only just found him."

He stared ahead and shrugged his shoulders with the air of a man who dismisses an unimportant question to which he cannot find a ready answer.

The others caught up with us as I got into my saddle again, and we made no delay, as the incident was not of sufficient moment.

We pa.s.sed one or two huts, that appeared to be uninhabited, and came at last to the open, or rather to a s.p.a.ce of a few hundred acres, ringed round by the forest, and saw in the centre of the clearing a low, rambling old house of stone, enclosed with a high wall, and near the tall gateway a few scattered wooden huts.

Some fowls and pigs were straying about, and a few dejected looking cows and a couple of horses were grazing near at hand; but there was no sign of human life.

"_Diable!_ Where are they all?" exclaimed Va.s.silitzi, frowning and biting his mustache.

"What place is this?" I asked him.

"Mine. It was a hunting lodge once; now it represents all my--our--possessions. But where are the people?"

He rode to the nearest hut, kicked open the crazy door, and shouted imperatively; but there was no reply. The whole place was deserted.

Thence to the gateway, with its solid oak doors. He jumped down and tried them, petulantly muttering what certainly sounded like a string of oaths. But they were locked and barred.

The others rode up, Anne and Loris first, the men straggling after.

Anne was swaying in her saddle; her face was ashy pale. I think she would have fallen but that Loris steadied her with his arm.

"What now?" she gasped. "There has been no fighting;" she glanced wildly around, "and yet--where are they all? We left twenty to guard her, within, besides these others." She stretched her hand towards the empty huts.

"Give the signal!" she continued, turning to Loris. "If there are any within they will answer that!"