The Black Cross Part 22

"Ah, if I were a man!" she cried, "If I were only a man and could lift you!" She clinched her teeth, swinging the whip, reining back the struggling animals with her slim, white hands from which she had torn the gloves.

As the figure moved again uneasily, half sitting up in the snow, the men rushed forward.

"Here they are--the gypsies! We have them! They were stealing the sleigh, the rascals!"

As they sprang at Velasco, surrounding him, there came suddenly a swift whizz through the air, a singing as of a hornet, and the heavy lash struck them, across the face, the eyes, the shoulders, stinging and sharp, leaving cruel welts as it struck. The driver screamed out, half blinded. The gendarmes started back. Petrokoff fell on his knees and cowered behind a bush, his fat body trembling and his hands outstretched as if praying:

"For the love of the saints!" he cried, "Don't strike!"

The lash flashed through the air, blinding and terrible in its rapidity. The gypsey leaned over the dash-board, her face white, her eyes dark with rage, her cap on the back of her yellow curls; and the whip seemed to leap between her fingers like something alive.

"Velasco!" she screamed, "Get up! Come--ah, come, while I beat them, the fiends!"

The cry seemed to pierce the benumbed brain of her companion, as the lash the skin. The dark patch moved again and Velasco struggled to his feet; he ran towards the sleigh. The girl leaned forward once more and as the gendarmes sprang towards them again, swearing at her and shouting, she lashed them fiercely across the face and the eyes, mercilessly, with little cries of rage. Velasco tumbled in beside her on the seat.

"Are you there?" she cried, "Are you safe?"

Then she turned, and loosening the reins the lash fell on the horses, cutting them sharply; and they dashed forward, the foam dripping from their bits and their hoofs striking sparks from the ice as they fled, galloping madly, swiftly, through the snow.

In a moment the inn was left behind, the shouting and swearing died away in the distance, and there was silence, broken only by the panting of the horses and the sound of their hoofs galloping. Kaya still urged them forward, shaking the reins in her left hand and las.h.i.+ng with the whip.

"You are safe!" she cried, "You are there, Velasco?"

And then as the silence continued, a great fear came over her; her heart seemed to leap in her throat and her pulses stopped beating. She stooped over him, unheeding the horses. They were in the midst of the forest now, and the next town was several versts distant. It was dark and she put her face close to his, crying out: "Velasco! Velasco!"

Then she saw that he had fainted again; from his forehead a dark stream was gus.h.i.+ng slowly; and when she touched it, it was warm and wet. She gave a little cry.

The horses galloped on, but the sleigh moved more smoothly and slid over the icy surface of the snow. Kaya wound the reins about the dash-board. They were quiet now, let them gallop! She bent again over her companion and, taking the snow that lay on the side of the sleigh, she bathed the wound with it, staunching the flow with her handkerchief, holding his head against her breast.

"Velasco!" she whispered low, as if afraid he might waken and hear: "It is better now. The wound has stopped bleeding--only a drop or two comes on my handkerchief! You struck it on the runners as you fell; I will bind it now with my scarf. Velasco--dear Velasco! Open your eyes and look at me--smile at me! We are safe. We are alone in the forest and the horses are galloping. Soon we shall be at the station--in the train! A few hours from the frontier--only a few hours--Velasco!"

He stirred in her arms and moaned, and his eye-lids quivered as if trying to open. Kaya took the scarf from her waist and began to wind it slowly about the wound on his forehead. Her breath came in little gasps through her parted lips.

"Have I your blood too on my hands, Velasco? Ah, waken and look at me!

We have only a few hours more together--a few hours! Then you will never see me again. Never--never!"

She clasped him closer to her breast and bent over him in terror.

"Don't die, Velasco! The wound has stopped bleeding. Why don't you open your eyes? Don't die! If you die I shall die too. I love you, Velasco! I love you--I love you!"

She laid her cheek to his cold one and tried to warm it. She covered him with her cloak. It grew darker and colder, and the horses galloped on. Presently he stirred again in her arms and opened his eyes, and they looked at one another.

"Kaya" he said, "I heard you--I heard you!"

She shrank back away from him: "You heard--me?" she stammered.

Then he fainted again.

The horses galloped on. The fields of snow stretched in the distance, the frost on the surface glittering like myriads of tiny dew-drops.

Through the inky blackness of the clouds the moon shone out fitfully, Streaking the road with flashes of light, pale and shadowy. Ahead gleamed the lamps of the station. The hoofs rang on the frozen snow.

Suddenly Velasco lifted his head from the breast of Kaya. He steadied himself and sat upright in the seat. The wound was bound about by the red scarf and his face looked white in the faint moon-beams. There was blood on his jacket and the folds of his vest, and the scarf was spotted with crimson blotches.

He stared straight ahead at the tossing manes of the horses, their galloping bodies, three abreast, plunging and straining in the harness; the reins knotted to the dash-board; the dark, winding road bordered by snow-drifts; the lights in the distance looming nearer, and the bulk of the station. His eyes were s.h.i.+ning under the bandage, wide-open beneath the brows.

Kaya drew away from him slowly, burying herself in the corner of the sleigh, drawing the buffalo robe close about her and trembling. The cold was bitter.

He drank in the icy air in long breaths, and it seemed to give him strength, to clear the fumes of the brain. He was like one who has been drowning and is coming to life again gradually. Suddenly he turned and they faced one another. The hoofs rang against the ice, pounding forward; the sleigh was lurching, and the runners slipped and slid in the snow.

"Kaya!"

"Velasco."

He put his arms out and they closed around her; he drew her nearer and nearer with all the strength in his body, and she yielded slowly, resisting and weak. She yielded until his lips were on hers, and then she flung out her arms with a little cry and they clung together, closely, silently.

The horses galloped on and the sleigh lurched faster--and faster.

CHAPTER XIII

The night train steamed swiftly through the darkness, the cars swaying from side to side of the track, and the couplings clanging and jolting.

It was warm inside the compartments and the air made a thick steam on the windows, hiding the snowfields and the station as the train rushed thundering past. In one of the third-cla.s.s compartments two gypsies sat together with their heads close to the window, peering out.

"Half an hour now, Velasco."

"Twenty-two minutes, Kaya."

"Now, only twelve."

"Are the pa.s.sports ready, Velasco?"

"They are here, little one. There is Virballen now in the distance; can you see the roofs and the eagle floating? In another moment, another second--!"

The two gypsies sat quiet, straining their eyes through the steam; then the dark one rose suddenly and adjusted the strap of his knapsack, taking his violin in his hand.

"The train is slowing up now, Kaya, come! Follow me close, and look neither to the right nor the left."

The two sprang from the train, and hurrying into the customs-room of the station were soon lost in the crowd. The minutes dragged slowly.

"Do you see that paling, Kaya? The other side of it is Germany--is freedom."

"I know, Velasco--I know!"

"Your heart is beating and throbbing, Kaya; your jacket tosses like a s.h.i.+p in a storm. Fold your arms over its fluttering, little one, that the guards may not see. They are coming now."

"Pray--Velasco!"

"To whom should I pray? The Tsar perhaps--or the Icon over yonder?"