The Shadow of the Czar Page 3
CHAPTER III
FEVER AND CONVALESCENCE
Of the four occupants of Castel Nuovo the first to awaken in themorning was Jacintha, who, after dressing, proceeded immediately toBarbara's room. Having tapped at the door, first softly, then loudly,and receiving no answer, she ventured to enter.
Barbara was awake, and talking to herself in a very odd manner.
She took no notice of the approach of Jacintha, and the latterperceived at once that her forebodings were realized.
Barbara, her dark hair lying in disorder on her pillow, a bright colorburning in her cheek, the light of reason quenched in her eye, was ina high state of fever. She was not speaking in Italian, the languageused by her the previous evening, but in another tongue altogetherstrange to Jacintha.
The latter returned quickly to her own room to make it known toLambro, who had just struggled into his finery.
"What else could be expected after sleeping at night in a dampforest?" was his comment. "Fever! and she in that very chamber, too!By God, if the Master should return and find her there!"
"Come and listen to her. She is talking in a strange language: shelooks at me with piteous eyes as if making some request. Perhaps youcan understand her."
The old Palicar followed her to Barbara's chamber. His roving life inthe Balkan Peninsula had given him a knowledge, more or lessimperfect, of all the languages spoken from the Danube to Maina, buthe failed to identify the speech of Barbara with any one of these.
"It's not Romaic, nor Turkish, nor Albanian, nor--"
"Listen!" said Jacintha, in a startled voice.
Amid the plaintive flow of unintelligible sound there came atirregular intervals a recurrence of the same three syllables.
"_Rav-en-na!_" murmured Jacintha with white lips.
"She's thinking of Ravenna on the other side of the sea," said Lambro,indicating the direction with his hand. "Wishes to go there perhaps."
"No, no. Have you forgotten? Ravenna! That's what the last one saidwhen she raved. 'O Ravenna, what have you done?' were her words."
Lambro stared dubiously at Jacintha. Then the eyes of both turnedsimultaneously to the violet sealing-wax on the wall, as if that hadsome connection with the name.
"I don't like this," muttered the old Palicar, turning away uneasily."There's something eerie about it. How has the signorina got hold ofthat name?"
Leaving Jacintha there he proceeded with subdued mien to thedining-hall, and aroused Paul from slumber with the question,--
"Have you ever had the malaria?"
"Can any one live in your cursed Greek climate, and not take it?" saidPaul, somewhat resenting the rough shaking he had received.
"Then you run no risk of taking it again by staying here."
Paul was wide awake now, and sprang instantly to his feet.
"You mean that the signorina has caught the fever?"
"That is so. She'll not see Zara for some weeks--if indeed at all. Youhave done a nice thing for me, Captain Cressingham, for she cannot beremoved now. And what will the Master say if he should return and finda fever-stricken person in his house? His was wise advice, after all.'Admit no strangers in my absence, Lambro.' I have broken his orders,and this is the result."
It may have been selfish on the part of Paul, but his thoughts weretoo much set on Barbara to permit of commiseration for Lambro'sposition. Never had he been attracted by any maiden as he had been byBarbara, and now to learn that she was in a dangerous fever filled himwith a feeling akin to horror.
"Where does the nearest doctor live? I must fetch him at once."
"She's a dead woman if you do. Leave her to Jacintha, and she mayrecover; trust her to a Dalmatian doctor, and she'll certainly die."
With which assurance Lambro retired grumbling terribly, for inasmuchas all Jacintha's attention would be required by the patient, heforesaw that for the next month he would have to prepare his ownmeals, and likewise those of Paul, should the latter choose to remainat Castel Nuovo; and if there was aught that the old Palicar dislikedit was work, even of the lightest sort.
In descending the stairs Paul was met by Jacintha.
"There is no use in disguising the truth," she said in answer to hiseager questioning. "The signorina is in a very dangerous state. Butleave her to me, and she shall recover. I was a nurse atConstantinople, remember; and in the matter of fever I know what to doas well as a doctor, perhaps better than any you will find in thisuncivilized region."
Impressed somehow by Jacintha's faith in her own powers Paul felt thatBarbara could not be in better hands.
"And you will remain at Castel Nuovo till she recovers?"
Paul gladly assented to this proposal.
"I know that she is a stranger to you," continued Jacintha, "butstill she came here under your guidance and protection, and thereforein some measure you are responsible for her safety. Yes, I say,safety. Captain Cressingham," she added, with a strange earnestness,"your presence here is necessary. The signorina is in peril. If theMaster should return and find--"
She broke off abruptly, perceiving Lambro at the foot of thestaircase.
"Now, Jacintha, attend to your patient. I'll see to the captain'sbreakfast."
And awed by the cold glittering eye of her partner, Jacintha becamemute and glided away.
That day, and the few days that followed, formed the most unhappy timethat Paul had ever known, for the fair maiden whom he loved lay in themystic borderland betwixt life and death.
He haunted the corridor leading to her bedroom, either sitting silentin the recess of an embrasured window, or walking to and fro withnoiseless tread, eagerly questioning Jacintha whenever she appeared.She began to pity this young Englishman with his haggard looks, somuch so that she always returned favorable answers, even when thewaters of the dark river had almost closed over the head of herpatient.
Mindful of Barbara's escape from a convent, Paul would not wander morethan a few yards from the castle, fearful lest the ecclesiasticalauthorities or the Austrian gendarmes should make their appearanceduring his absence, to say nothing of the return of the mysteriousMaster, whose presence was equally to be guarded against, if Jacinthahad spoken truly.
Paul's refusal to accompany Lambro for a sail on the sea or on a trampthrough the woods with his dogs provoked that worthy's contempt. Afine soldierly fellow like Paul to be fretting over a thing of a girl,when a Circassian equally lovely could be bought in the neighboringprovince of Albania for five hundred beshliks, with the additionaladvantage of selling the damsel again when she had ceased to please.It was absurd!
At last one day Jacintha was able to announce that Barbara had passedthe crisis. The relief to Paul's overwrought mind was so great that healmost felt as if he himself, and not Barbara, had been the sufferer.
"And you will be glad to learn, Captain Cressingham," said the nurse,with a smile that had a hidden meaning in it, "that the illness hasleft no disfiguring traces on her beauty."
She was still too weak for conversation, and Jacintha averred thatsome days must elapse before she could let him see the patient.
In the meantime, however, Paul did not fail to remind her daily of hisexistence.
Near by lived a charcoal-burner accustomed to call at the castle forthe purpose of bringing Jacintha her stock of provisions from themarket-town.
Making use of this man Paul every day procured the loveliest offlowers, in addition to fruits and other delicacies, and these,accompanied by wishes for her welfare, he would send up to the patientthrough the medium of the faithful Jacintha, who in turn brought backBarbara's expressions of gratitude.
The period of Barbara's convalescence was a somewhat dull time forPaul, self-debarred as he was from quitting the vicinity of thecastle.
He tried to take an interest in Lambro's companionship, despite hisindefinable suspicion of the old Palicar, but he soon grew tired ofhearing the same stories, for there was but one theme upon which theGreek would converse, namely, the Hellenic War of Independence,-
-a warin which, though history be strangely silent on the matter, Lambro hadtaken the leading part, at least, according to his own account.
Occasionally the vain old man, forgetful that his strength and skillwere departing, would invite Paul to a fencing-bout; if defeated, hegrew angry; but when Paul, in the exercise of a little _finesse_,permitted himself to be worsted, then Lambro, suspecting the trickplayed upon him, grew more angry still; so that there was no pleasinghim. In short, he was a somewhat trying individual to live with, andPaul was never sorry when he saw him setting off for a long tramp bythe shore or through the woods, attended by his twelve mastiffs,brutes big and ferocious, but esteemed by Paul because they were such,since they would prove excellent auxiliaries against any foe whoshould approach the castle with intent to carry off Barbara, and thatsuch abduction might be attempted was a fear ever present to his mind.
Indeed, it was quite within the range of probability that any day aserious fray might occur, for heedless as to what the Austrian lawmight be in the matter of maidens who escaped from convents, Paul wasdetermined that Barbara should not be surrendered to the authoritieswithout opposition on his part; while Lambro, though disposed to lookupon the fair fugitive somewhat in the light of an encumbrance, wasnevertheless fierce in declaring, with a fine scorn of consequences,that he would shoot the first gendarme who should attempt to cross_his_ threshold; and Paul had little doubt that the fiery old Klephtwould keep his word.
Still, this was not quite the sort of recreation that Paul wanted.
"Have you no books here?" he asked of Lambro one day.
"Would you turn caloyer or papa? No? Then, what can you want withbooks?"
"Your classic ancestors would not have asked that question. To read,of course."
"Bah! the best use you can put books to is to twist them intocartridges. That's what we did with them in the war." In Lambro'sopinion there had only been one war worthy of the name. "Did you everhear of the siege of ----?"
"But as to the books now?" gently murmured Paul, who did not wish tohear anything about the siege of ----.
"Books? Yes, there are some here in the topmost room of the castle;but you cannot get at them, for that room is the Master's study; andon his departure he always locks the door, and takes the key withhim."
Paul, with his head full of suspicion against the Master, coulddiscern nothing but a sinister caution in his practice of keeping thestudy-door locked during his absence. Accordingly on the following daywhen Lambro was out of the way, and Jacintha occupied with herpatient, Paul ascended the staircase leading to the upper portion ofthe tower. On the topmost landing of all he came upon a stout door ofoak securely locked. This without doubt was the entrance of the studyspoken of by Lambro. A pendant on the other side of the key-holeprevented Paul from obtaining the slightest glimpse of the interior.
Not only had the Master left this door locked, but he had likewisetaken precautions to prevent any one during his absence from enteringwithout his knowledge, for the hinges of the door were sealed withviolet-colored wax bearing the impress of a paschal lamb.
The care thus taken to screen the room from espionage increased Paul'ssuspicions. Then he turned away, becoming suddenly conscious that topry thus upon the affairs of a stranger was conduct unworthy of asoldier and a gentleman; and yet a secret voice seemed to whisper thathe was justified in his proceeding, when he recalled Jacintha'sstrange remark that the return of the Master threatened Barbara'ssafety.
"Jacintha," said he, when next he saw that person, "what secret iscontained in that locked room at the top of the tower, for," headded, proceeding beyond his knowledge, "I am convinced that there issome mystery connected with it."
That he was correct in his surmise was sufficiently evinced by thelook of fear that came over Jacintha's face.
"You must ask Lambro."
"He will not tell me."
"And I dare not."
"Why?"
"Lambro would kill me if I should reveal the secret. You yourselfheard his threat. I have taken a solemn oath upon the Holy Sacramentitself to preserve silence. Do not speak of this matter again, I prayyou," she continued, with pain in her voice, "for, indeed, CaptainCressingham, it is no concern of yours."
And then, as if desirous of reverting to a more pleasing topic, sheadded,--
"I have good news for you. The signorina is now strong enough to riseand be dressed. To-morrow you shall see her."
This intelligence was more acceptable to Paul than the baton of ageneral. He had very little sleep that night for thinking of Barbara.
Next day at noon, Barbara having been dressed by Jacintha, wasassisted by the same faithful attendant to an adjoining sitting-room,and comfortably installed in a big arm-chair placed beside an opencasement which commanded a view of the sea.
How quick was the turn of her head towards the door when Paul's stepsounded there! How bright her smile as she offered him her slenderhand. How sweet the color that played over her cheek while she thankedhim for the presents that he had sent up to her! A white rose gracedher dusky hair, the flower being, as Paul noticed with secretpleasure, his gift of the previous day.
Jacintha had withdrawn on Paul's entrance. Wise creature, Jacintha!It is not every woman who will recognize herself as _de trop_ whenyouth and maiden meet.
"I am glad to see you recovering, signorina."
"I am still very weak. I tremble to think what would have become of mehad I lain down in that wood. The fever would certainly have carriedme off. I owe my life to you."
"No--to Jacintha."
"And to Jacintha, who will not take any reward from me."
After this there was a silence. Paul found his usual flow of languagegone. He longed to be brilliant; he was conscious of seeming stupid.
"It is six weeks since our meeting in the woods," he observed, forwant of a better remark.
"And you were going to Sebenico, then. Have you remained at CastelNuovo all this time on my account?"
"I desire to keep my promise of seeing you safely to Zara."
Barbara murmured her gratitude, adding,--
"But am I not putting you to great inconvenience?"
"No, signorina, no. These are my holidays. I am on a long furlough. Mytime is my own, or rather it is at your disposal."
Barbara's eyes drooped beneath Paul's gaze. Why should this handsomeyoung captain interest himself so on her behalf?
"Jacintha tells me that you have never quitted the vicinity of thecastle."
"True. It has been my desire to guard against a surprise on the partof your pursuers."
Barbara's face lost its bright expression for a moment.
"My pursuers!" she murmured. "My pursuers! The thought of them hauntedme while I lay ill. I dreaded lest I should be carried off in myhelpless state. But as six weeks have elapsed I think I may regard thepursuit--if pursuit there were--as over. But tell me, CaptainCressingham,"--how prettily the name fell from her lips!--"what wouldyou have done if my pursuers had appeared?"
"Fought," replied Paul laconically.
"But supposing they had been a dozen in number?"
"No matter. Lambro loves a fight, so do I. Castel Nuovo was built tostand a siege. The door is of massive oak; the lower windows arebarred; there are abundant loopholes convenient for taking shots atthe enemy. And besides there are the twelve mastiffs, each of which iscapable of tackling a man. Trust us, signorina, we should have made agood defence."
It was pleasant to be near such towers of strength as Paul and Lambro,who appeared to regard Austrian gendarmerie with contempt. Then herpleasure became lost in surprise. Was this Englishman really willingto undergo such perils on her behalf? Ay, those, and much more,Barbara, to gain your smiles.
"I am fortunate in my friends," she said, "but rather than expose themto such hazard I think I should prefer to give myself up."
She was a sweet and interesting patient, and the charm of her face andfigure was enhanced by the toilette in which Jacintha had arrayedher,--a dress all so
ft and white and foamy with silk muslin. A silverrope girdle was tied at one side and fell in two long, gracefultassels. Delicate antique lace fringed the slender wrists. Paul'squick eye observed that a small portion of the lace was torn off fromthe right sleeve. He wondered why the defect had not been repaired. Atrifling circumstance, but one destined to recur with peculiar forceat a later date.
This was not the costume she had worn on the night of her firstmeeting with him. Whence, then, did it come? Barbara seemed to divinehis thoughts.
"I see you are observing my dress," she remarked. "It is a gift fromJacintha, drawn from an old chest in her wardrobe. It might have beenexpressly made for me, for it fits to a nicety without requiring theleast alteration. Made for another, and yet suiting me to perfection.Is not that a singular coincidence?"
The fit of the dress did not strike Paul so much as the costliness ofthe material. He could not account for Jacintha's possession of suchattire except on the supposition that it formed part of the flotsamand jetsam which supplied Lambro with his finery.
Again Barbara seemed to read his thoughts.
"No, it is not a gift of the sea; Jacintha assured me of that;otherwise I would not wear it. I have no liking for the clothing ofthe drowned." And then displaying a pair of pretty satin shoes, sheadded: "And these, too, are Jacintha's gift, and they fit as if myfeet had been measured for them."
She turned to the open casement and surveyed the scene without.
"Ah! if I could but get into the air outside I should recover thesooner."
"Then come down to-morrow, and sit outside on the terrace."
"I am too weak to walk."
"No matter. I will carry you," replied Paul, boldly.
"I shall have to get Jacintha's leave first," said Barbara,half-pleased, half-reluctant. "Jacintha is an ideal nurse. She willhave her commands obeyed, and will not yield to the whims of herpatient."
When Jacintha appeared, her consent was readily obtained, and as sheaverred that Barbara had talked enough for one day, Paul was compelledto take his leave.
He spent the rest of the day in recalling Barbara's words. Theinterview, though delightful, contained one element of disappointment:Barbara had said nothing as to her previous history. Paul hadhesitated to question her on the matter, leaving her to take theinitiative. Time would doubtless bring increasing confidence on herpart.
On the following day he redeemed his promise of carrying her into theopen air. An exquisite sense of pleasure filled him as he felt theclasp of Barbara's arm around his neck and noted the sweet color thatmantled her cheek. From her chamber he bore her down the staircase andout to a dismantled marble terrace, where he seated her in a lounge,which had been placed there by Jacintha. Above her rose a statelyterebinth, whose light-green foliage, crimsoned with clusters ofdelicate flowers, cast a circle of shade around.
It was the height of summer, and the day, though hot, was notoppressive; the atmosphere being tempered by the air flowing from theDalmatian highlands that rose behind them, peak above peak, in darkwooded glory.
Facing them was the smooth Adriatic almost as blue as the heaven itreflected. Far off in the summer haze picturesque feluccas, with theirwhite lateen sails, glided to and fro with slow dream-like motion.
Sea, sky, and mountains combined to form a scene of enchanting beauty,rendered still more enchanting to Paul by the presence of Barbara, towhom Jacintha had imparted an additional charm by adorning her withthe graceful _pezzotto_, or muslin scarf, which, pinned on the headand falling over the arms and shoulders, permitted the beautiful faceand hair of the wearer to be seen through it.
"Have you ever noticed, Captain Cressingham, how trifles annoy whenone is in a state of illness? And I am annoyed by a trifle, one soabsurd that I feel ashamed to mention it."
Paul urged her, nevertheless, to describe the annoyance.
"What torments me is a piece of sealing-wax on a panel in my bedroom.Reposing the other night, with my eyes turned towards it, I wasseized by a singular fancy. The wax seemed to be receding through thewall, drawing me after it. Reason told me that this could not be so,that the wax was immovably fixed to the panel, and that I was in bed;yet all the same, there was the circle of wax gliding onward withnever-ending motion through the realm of air, and myself floatingalong in its wake like a disembodied spirit. This sensation occursevery night. My mind is kept perpetually on the rack following thatpiece of wax through the infinity of space, ever lured onward by thehope of arriving at some goal. But that goal perpetually evades me,and therein is the torment."
"Having had the malaria myself," observed Paul, "I can testify thatsuch queer notions do occur. What is the color of this wax?" he added,having little doubt as to what the answer would be.
"It is of a violet hue, and bears the impress of a lamb carrying abanner. I cannot go back to that chamber again," continued Barbara,"or I shall be driven mad, for the annoyance is depriving me of allsleep. I must change my room, even though my good nurse is opposed toit."
But Jacintha did not offer any opposition when Paul made known herpatient's desire for a different sleeping-room; without any demur sheimmediately set about preparing another chamber.
That same night, when all was still in the castle, Paul, taking arevolver and a lamp, sought the room vacated by Barbara. He quicklydiscovered the piece of stamped wax, and saw that it correspondedprecisely with the seal upon the door of the mysterious study.
Extinguishing his lamp, he sat down on a chair beside the panel,determined to watch there during the night to ascertain, if possible,whether there was any ground for Barbara's strange fancy.
It was a long and dreary vigil, and when the gray light of dawn stolein through the casement, and nothing had occurred to excite suspicion,he was fain to question the wisdom of his action.
That day Paul again carried Barbara downstairs to breathe the pure airof the sunlit terrace.
"My sleep last night was sweet and sound," she remarked. "With my newbedroom, and with this glorious air, I shall soon be well again."
She looked so radiant that Paul refrained from mentioning hisnocturnal vigil. Though full of indefinable suspicion himself, he hadno wish to alarm her mind; and he had laid both on Lambro and Jacinthaan injunction to maintain silence respecting the locked room.
Barbara's strength gradually returned. In a day or two she was able tostand, and, leaning upon Paul's arm, she walked to and fro in theimmediate vicinity of the castle. These promenades were soonlengthened into rambles along the seashore or through the fragrantpine woods, Paul being her constant companion. She had taken his armat first from weakness; she now continued to do so from habit.
As his knowledge of Barbara increased Paul discovered that she hadreceived an extraordinary education, her course of study having beenas remarkable for what it omitted as for what it contained. Whileknowing very little of poetry, painting, music, needle-work, and otheraccomplishments usually included in the feminine curriculum, she wasnevertheless well versed in mathematics, logic, and "the dismalscience," to wit, political economy. Classic antiquity was almost asealed book to her, but modern history and current continentalpolitics she had at her finger-tips, and her knowledge of royal andnoble genealogies with all their ramifications might have put a heraldto the blush. She could give the biographies, and the characteristicfoibles, of all the leading statesmen of Europe; was mistress ofseveral modern languages, notably Polish or Russian, and--mostpuzzling circumstance of all--she was quite _au fait_ with themysteries and subtleties of Catholic theology.
As she could scarcely have passed her twentieth year, it seemed toPaul that Barbara, in view of her extensive acquirements, must havecommenced her studies so soon as she had quitted her cradle.
Her intellectual training appeared more adapted to the acquirements ofa ruler, a statesman, or an ambassador than to those of an ordinaryyoung lady; and Paul puzzled himself to account for the aims of thosewho had directed her education, for Barbara herself volunteered noinformation on the matter, and stil
l maintained an attitude ofreticence as to her past life.