The Shadow of the Czar Part 6

Impressed somehow by Jacintha's faith in her own powers Paul felt that Barbara could not be in better hands.

"And you will remain at Castel Nuovo till she recovers?"

Paul gladly a.s.sented to this proposal.

"I know that she is a stranger to you," continued Jacintha, "but still she came here under your guidance and protection, and therefore in 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 the Master should return and find--"

She broke off abruptly, perceiving Lambro at the foot of the staircase.

"Now, Jacintha, attend to your patient. I'll see to the captain's breakfast."

And awed by the cold glittering eye of her partner, Jacintha became mute and glided away.

That day, and the few days that followed, formed the most unhappy time that Paul had ever known, for the fair maiden whom he loved lay in the mystic borderland betwixt life and death.

He haunted the corridor leading to her bedroom, either sitting silent in the recess of an embrasured window, or walking to and fro with noiseless tread, eagerly questioning Jacintha whenever she appeared.

She began to pity this young Englishman with his haggard looks, so much so that she always returned favorable answers, even when the waters of the dark river had almost closed over the head of her patient.

Mindful of Barbara's escape from a convent, Paul would not wander more than a few yards from the castle, fearful lest the ecclesiastical authorities or the Austrian gendarmes should make their appearance during his absence, to say nothing of the return of the mysterious Master, whose presence was equally to be guarded against, if Jacintha had spoken truly.

Paul's refusal to accompany Lambro for a sail on the sea or on a tramp through the woods with his dogs provoked that worthy's contempt. A fine soldierly fellow like Paul to be fretting over a thing of a girl, when a Circa.s.sian equally lovely could be bought in the neighboring province of Albania for five hundred beshliks, with the additional advantage 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 pa.s.sed the crisis. The relief to Paul's overwrought mind was so great that he almost 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 has left no disfiguring traces on her beauty."

She was still too weak for conversation, and Jacintha averred that some days must elapse before she could let him see the patient.

In the meantime, however, Paul did not fail to remind her daily of his existence.

Near by lived a charcoal-burner accustomed to call at the castle for the purpose of bringing Jacintha her stock of provisions from the market-town.

Making use of this man Paul every day procured the loveliest of flowers, in addition to fruits and other delicacies, and these, accompanied by wishes for her welfare, he would send up to the patient through the medium of the faithful Jacintha, who in turn brought back Barbara's expressions of grat.i.tude.

The period of Barbara's convalescence was a somewhat dull time for Paul, self-debarred as he was from quitting the vicinity of the castle.

He tried to take an interest in Lambro's companions.h.i.+p, despite his indefinable suspicion of the old Palicar, but he soon grew tired of hearing the same stories, for there was but one theme upon which the Greek would converse, namely, the h.e.l.lenic War of Independence,--a war in which, though history be strangely silent on the matter, Lambro had taken the leading part, at least, according to his own account.

Occasionally the vain old man, forgetful that his strength and skill were departing, would invite Paul to a fencing-bout; if defeated, he grew angry; but when Paul, in the exercise of a little _finesse_, permitted himself to be worsted, then Lambro, suspecting the trick played upon him, grew more angry still; so that there was no pleasing him. In short, he was a somewhat trying individual to live with, and Paul was never sorry when he saw him setting off for a long tramp by the sh.o.r.e 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 who should approach the castle with intent to carry off Barbara, and that such abduction might be attempted was a fear ever present to his mind.

Indeed, it was quite within the range of probability that any day a serious fray might occur, for heedless as to what the Austrian law might be in the matter of maidens who escaped from convents, Paul was determined that Barbara should not be surrendered to the authorities without opposition on his part; while Lambro, though disposed to look upon the fair fugitive somewhat in the light of an enc.u.mbrance, was nevertheless 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 Klepht would 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 with books?"

"Your cla.s.sic ancestors would not have asked that question. To read, of course."

"Bah! the best use you can put books to is to twist them into cartridges. That's what we did with them in the war." In Lambro's opinion there had only been one war worthy of the name. "Did you ever hear of the siege of ----?"

"But as to the books now?" gently murmured Paul, who did not wish to hear 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; and on his departure he always locks the door, and takes the key with him."

Paul, with his head full of suspicion against the Master, could discern nothing but a sinister caution in his practice of keeping the study-door locked during his absence. Accordingly on the following day when Lambro was out of the way, and Jacintha occupied with her patient, Paul ascended the staircase leading to the upper portion of the tower. On the topmost landing of all he came upon a stout door of oak securely locked. This without doubt was the entrance of the study spoken of by Lambro. A pendant on the other side of the key-hole prevented Paul from obtaining the slightest glimpse of the interior.

Not only had the Master left this door locked, but he had likewise taken precautions to prevent any one during his absence from entering without his knowledge, for the hinges of the door were sealed with violet-colored wax bearing the impress of a paschal lamb.

The care thus taken to screen the room from espionage increased Paul's suspicions. Then he turned away, becoming suddenly conscious that to pry thus upon the affairs of a stranger was conduct unworthy of a soldier and a gentleman; and yet a secret voice seemed to whisper that he was justified in his proceeding, when he recalled Jacintha's strange remark that the return of the Master threatened Barbara's safety.

"Jacintha," said he, when next he saw that person, "what secret is contained in that locked room at the top of the tower, for," he added, proceeding beyond his knowledge, "I am convinced that there is some mystery connected with it."

That he was correct in his surmise was sufficiently evinced by the look 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 yourself heard his threat. I have taken a solemn oath upon the Holy Sacrament itself to preserve silence. Do not speak of this matter again, I pray you," she continued, with pain in her voice, "for, indeed, Captain Cressingham, it is no concern of yours."

And then, as if desirous of reverting to a more pleasing topic, she added,--

"I have good news for you. The signorina is now strong enough to rise and be dressed. To-morrow you shall see her."

This intelligence was more acceptable to Paul than the baton of a general. He had very little sleep that night for thinking of Barbara.

Next day at noon, Barbara having been dressed by Jacintha, was a.s.sisted by the same faithful attendant to an adjoining sitting-room, and comfortably installed in a big arm-chair placed beside an open cas.e.m.e.nt which commanded a view of the sea.

How quick was the turn of her head towards the door when Paul's step sounded there! How bright her smile as she offered him her slender hand. How sweet the color that played over her cheek while she thanked him for the presents that he had sent up to her! A white rose graced her dusky hair, the flower being, as Paul noticed with secret pleasure, 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_ when youth 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 me had I lain down in that wood. The fever would certainly have carried me 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 language gone. He longed to be brilliant; he was conscious of seeming stupid.