CHAPTER XLVIII.--THE THREATS OF TOLSTOFF.

In the growth of my passion for Valerie I forgot all about the

probable opposition of her brother, the Count, to my wishes. Indeed,

he entered very little into my schemes of the future; for the perilous

contingencies of war caused life to be held by a very slight tenure

indeed; so we might never see him again, though none would deplore

more than I the death of so gallant a fellow. Then, in that instance,

did one so lovely as Valerie require more than ever a legitimate

protector, and who could be more suitable than I? I felt convinced at

that time, that those who loved Valerie once could never feel for

another as they had loved her. She was so full of an individuality

that was all her own. Was it the coquetry of her manner, the strange

and indescribable beauty of her dark eyes, the coils of her golden

hair, the smile on her lips, or the subtle magnetism the kisses of

those lips might possess, that entangled them? God knows, but I have

heard that those who loved her once were never quite the same men

again. If Valerie married me, with what pride and exultation should I

display her beauty, if occasion served, before Estelle and her dotard

Earl, as a bright being I had won from hearts that were breaking for

her, and as one who was teaching me fast to forget _her_, even as she

had forgotten me! A Russian wife, at that crisis of hostility and

hatred, seemed a somewhat singular alliance certainly; what would the

regiment say, and what would my chief friend old Sir Madoc, with all

his strong national prejudices, think? I should be pretty certain to

find the doors of Craigaderyn closed for long against me. These,

however, were minor considerations amid my dreams; for dreams they

were, and visions that might never be realised; _châteaux en Espagne_

never, perhaps, to be mine!

On the morning of the third day after the musical performance recorded

in the preceding chapter, Valerie met me, accompanied by Madame

Tolstoff. Her face wore a bright smile, and interlacing her fingers,

she raised her eyes to the _eikon_ above the fireplace, and said to

me, "O Hospodeen, have I not cause to thank Heaven for the news a

Cossack has just brought me, in a letter from Colonel Tolstoff?"

"I hope so; but pray what is the news?" I. asked, while drawing nearer

her.

"My brother Paulovitch has been taken prisoner by your people."

"Call you that good news?" I asked, with surprise.

"Yes, most happy tidings."

"How?"

"My brother will now be safe, and I hope that they will keep him so

till this horrible and most unjust war is over."

"Unjust! how is it so?" I asked, laughing.

"Can it be otherwise, when it is waged against holy Russia and our

good father the Czar?"

I afterwards learned that Volhonski had been taken prisoner in that

affair which occurred on the night of Sunday, the 14th January, when

the Russians surprised our people in the trenches, and captured one

officer and sixteen men of the 68th, or Durham Light Infantry, into

whose hands Volhonski fell, and was disarmed and taken at once to the

rear.

"I am so happy," continued Valerie, clapping her hands like a child,

"though it may be long, long ere I see him again, my dear Paulovitch!

He will be taken to England, of course."

"Should you not like to join him there?" I asked, softly. "Yes, but I

cannot leave Russia."

"Why?"

"Do not ask me; but we may keep _you_ as a hostage for him," she

added, merrily; "do you agree?"

"Can I do otherwise?" said I, tenderly and earnestly.

"Of course not, while those Cossacks are in the Baidar Valley. Poor

Paulovitch! and this was his parting gift!" she continued, and drew

from her bosom--and none in the world could be whiter or more

lovely--a gold cross; and after kissing, she replaced it, looking at

me with a bright, coquettish, and most provoking smile, as it slipped

down into a receptacle so charming. "And dear Madame Tolstoff is so

happy, too, for her son arrives here to-morrow; he has been severely

bruised by the splinter of a shell in the Wasp Battery, and comes

hither to be nursed by us."

I cannot say that I shared in "dear Madame's" joy on this occasion,

and would have been better pleased had Valerie seemed to be less

excited than she was. Moreover, I feared that the arrival of a Russian

officer as an inmate might seriously complicate matters, and

completely alter my position; and a pang seemed to enter my heart, as

I already began to feel with wretchedness that Valerie might soon be

lost to me. I had no time to lose if I would seek to resume the

subject of conversation on that evening when Madame Tolstoff arrived

just in time to interrupt us; but Valerie seemed studiously never to

afford me an opportunity of being with her alone. This was most

tantalising, especially now when a crisis in my affairs seemed

approaching. Moreover, I had already been at Yalta longer than I could

ever have anticipated. The love of the brother and sister for each

other was, I knew, strong and tender; could I, therefore, but persuade

her to escape--"to fly" with me, as novels have it--to our camp, now

that he was a prisoner, and probably _en route_ for England! A meagre

choice of comforts would await her in the allied camp; but in the

excess of my love, my ardour, and folly, I forgot all about that, and

even about the Cossacks who occupied the Pass of the Baidar Valley.

It was not without emotions of undefined anxiety that on the following

day I heard from Ivan Yourivitch that Colonel Tolstoff had arrived,

and would meet me at dinner. The whole of that noon and afternoon

passed, but I could nowhere see Valerie; and on entering the room when

dinner was announced--a dinner _à la Russe_, the table covered with

flowers fresh from the conservatory--I was sensible that she received

me with an air of constraint which, in her, was very remarkable; while

something akin to malicious pleasure seemed to twinkle in the little

dark beadlike eyes of Madame Tolstoff as she introduced me to her son

the Colonel; at least, by his reception of me I understood so much of

what she said, for the old lady spoke in her native Russian. He was a

tall, grim-looking man, who, after laying aside the long military

_capote_, appeared in the dark green uniform of the 26th Infantry,

with several silver medals dangling on his well-padded breast. He had

fierce keen eyes, that seemed to glare at times under their bristling

brows; and he had an enormous sandy-coloured moustache, that appeared

to retain the blue curling smoke of his _papirosse_, or to emit it

grudgingly, as if it came through closely-laid thatch; a thick beard

of the same hue, streaked with grizzled gray hair, concealed a massive

jaw and most determined chin. He was huge, heavy-looking, and

muscular; and on seeing me, held out a strong, weather-beaten hand but

coldly and dryly, as he addressed me in German; and then we

immediately recognised each other, for he was the officer who

commanded the regiment which had occupied the abattis, and who

received me when I took the flag of truce into Sebastopol. Volhonski,

I have said, was a noble of the first class--that which traces

nobility back for a single century; but Tolstoff was only of the

second, or military class, being the son of a merchant, who after

serving eight years in the ranks as a _junker_, on being made an

officer becomes an hereditary noble, with the right to purchase a

landed estate. Tolstoff was quite lame--temporarily, however--by the

bruises his left leg had suffered from the explosion of a shell. He

spoke to me in bad and broken German, though I shall render his words

here in English.

"So my friend Volhonski is taken prisoner?" said I.

"Yes; less lucky than you, Herr Captain, who have to be taken yet," he

replied, tossing the fag end of his paper cigar into the _peitchka_.

"It was in a sortie, I understand?"

"A little one; his party was led astray by their guide towards the

trenches."

"Their guide! could one be found?"

"Yes; an officer who deserted to us."

"An officer!" said I, with astonishment.

"Yes; one who was a prime favourite with the Lord Raglan. Strange that

he should desert, was it not!"

"With Lord Raglan!" I continued, more bewildered still.

"The devil! You are strangely fond of repeating my words! Anyway he

wears a diamond ring that was given him by Lord Raglan for some great

service he performed; but as he is to be here to-night, you shall see

him yourself."

Guilfoyle! The inevitable Guilfoyle and his ring!

I could have laughed, but for rage at his cowardice, villainy, and

treachery, in actually acting as guide in that affair which caused a

loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners to our 68th Foot. However,

thought I, through my clenched teeth, I shall see him to-night.

"Have you ever seen this officer?" I asked.

"No; but he comes to Yalta with certain reports for my signature. I

doubt if Prince Woronzow, who is now Governor of Tiflis in Georgia,

knows who--_all_--honour his mansion by a residence therein. You have

made a longer visit among us this time than you did under the flag of

truce!"

"Circumstances have forced me to do so, with what willingness you may

imagine," said I, justly displeased by his tone and tenor of his

speech, which seemed to class me with a rascal and a traitor like

Guilfoyle. "I was most fortunate, however, in finding my way here,

after escaping death, first at the hands of your Cossacks, and

afterwards in the sea."

"Ah, they are troublesome fellows those Cossacks, and I fear you are

not quite done with them yet."

"They, and your infantry, too, found us pretty well prepared on that

misty morning at Inkermann," said I, growing more and more displeased

by his tone and manner.

"Well prepared! By----, I should think so; when people come on

frivolous errands with flags of truce, to see what an enemy is about

behind his own lines."

I felt the blood rush to my temples, and Valerie, with a piteous

expression in her soft face, said something in Russian, and with a

tone of expostulation; to which the grim Pulkovnick made no response,

but sat silently making such a dinner as seemed to indicate that

rations had been scarce in Sebastopol, and keeping Ivan Yourivitch in

constant attendance, but chiefly on himself. I could see that the man

was a soldier, and nothing but a soldier, a Russian military tyrant in

fact, and felt assured that the sooner I was out of Yalta, and beyond

his reach--risking even the Cossacks in the Valley--the better for

myself.

He was twice assisted by his amiable "mamma," to the _bativina_, i.e.,

soup made of roasted beef cut into small pieces, with boiled beetroot,

spring onions, carraway-seeds, purée of sorrel, with chopped eggs and

kvass. He was thrice helped to stuffed carrots with sauce, to roast

mutton with mushrooms, and compote of almonds; and he drank great

quantities of hydromel flavoured with spices, and so fermented with

hops that it foamed up in the silver tankard and over his vast

moustache. But in the intervals during dinner, and often speaking with

his mouth very full, he related for the express behoof of his mother

and Valerie, a very strange incident, which they seemed implicitly to

believe, and which the latter politely translated for me. It was to

the effect, that on the night Volhonski was taken prisoner, one of his

officers, a man of noble rank, and major of the Vladimir Regiment, was

carried into Sebastopol mortally wounded in an attempt to rescue him;

and as he was dying, the host was borne to him under a canopy by

Innocent, Bishop of Odessa, in person. As the procession passed a

tratkir, or tea-house, some soldiers and girls were dancing there to

the sound of a violin; and though they heard the voices of the

chanters, and the occasional ringing of the sanctus bell, they ceased

not their amusement, neither did they kneel, so the host passed on;

but like those who were enchanted by hearing the wonderful flute of

the German tale, they could not cease dancing, neither could the

violinist desist from playing, and for six-and-thirty hours they

continued to whirl in a wild waltz--in sorrow and tears, a ghastly

band--till, exhausted and worn nearly to skeletons, they sank gasping

and breathless on the floor, where they were still lying, paralysed in

all their limbs, and hopelessly insane!

Tolstoff seemed to hasten the ceremonies of the dinner-table to get

rid of the ladies; and the moment they rose he gave his mother some

_papirosses_, or cigarettes, to smoke, and then proceeded, leisurely,

to roll up one for himself, after pushing across the table towards me

the champagne, which he despised as very poor wine indeed.

"Hah, Yourivitch!" said he, taking up a decanter, and applying his

somewhat snub nose thereto; "what is this? corn-brandy!" he added,

draining a glassful; "as it is good, I must have a glass;" so he took

a second of the fiery fluid. "O, now I feel another man, and being

another man, require another glass;" so he took a _third_.

These additions to the hydromel did not seem to improve his temper,

and assuredly I would have preferred to follow the ladies to the

drawing-room, than to linger on with him

"In after-dinner talk

Across the walnuts and the wine,"

but that I feared to offend the man unnecessarily.

"Excuse me," said he, as he lay back in his seat, with his coat

unbuttoned, and proceeded, very coolly, to pick his teeth with one of

those small cross-hilted daggers, the slender blades of which are

about four inches long, and which are worn in secret by so many

Russian officers, and are all of the finest steel. After a pause,

during which he again dipped his long moustache in the foaming

hydromel, he said,

"Though Volhonski told me about you, I scarcely expected, Herr

Captain, to have found you here _still_."

"Where should I have gone--into the hands of the Cossacks, at Baidar?"

"Towards Kharkoff, at all events."

I coloured at this very pointed remark, as it was to that province in

the Ukraine that the Russians had transmitted many of the prisoners

taken during the war.

"Here I felt myself on a special footing."

"How, Herr Captain?"

"As the guest of the Volhonskis," said I, sternly.

"Though an enemy of Russia?"

"Politically or professionally, yes: but I have the honour to be

viewed as a friend by the Count, and also by his sister."

"Ah, indeed! I have heard as much. The Hospoza Valerie is, you see,

beautiful."

"Wondrously so," said I, with fervour, glad that I could cordially

agree with this odious fellow in one thing at least.

"Then beware," said Tolstoff, his face darkening; "for I don't believe

that much friendship can subsist between the sexes without its

assuming a warmer complexion."

"Colonel Tolstoff!"

"Besides, the Hospoza Valerie is a coquette--one who would flirt with

the tongs, if nothing better were at hand--so don't flatter yourself,

Herr Captain."

I felt inclined to fling the decanter at his head; for in his tone of

mentor he far exceeded even Volhonski.

"This is a somewhat offensive way to speak of a noble lady--the sister

of your friend," said I.

"We shall dismiss that subject; and now for another," said he. "It

must be pretty apparent to you, Herr Captain, that you cannot remain

here, unparoled, in your present anomalous position."

"I quite agree with you, and feel it most keenly; but I gave my parole

of honour to Valerie," I added, gaily and unwisely, for again the face

of Tolstoff lowered.

"To let you remain or go free were treason to Russia and the Czar; you

must therefore be sent as a prisoner of war to Kharkoff, and--"

"What then?"

"Be treated there according to the report I shall transmit with your

escort."

"What will Volhonski say?"

"Just what he pleases; the Count is a prisoner now himself."

I read some hidden meaning in his eyes, though he sat quietly cracking

walnuts and sipping his hydromel.

"An officer on duty, I fall into the hands of an enemy--" I was

beginning passionately, when he interrupted me, and his eyes gleamed

as he said,

"You had a despatch; I think you told Volhonski or his sister so?"

"Yes, Colonel--a despatch for Marshal Canrobert."

"Where is it?"

"I destroyed it."

"Bah!--I thought so," said he, scornfully.

"On my honour, I did so, Colonel Tolstoff!"

"Honour! ha, ha, you are a spy!"

"Rascal!" I exclaimed, feeling myself grow white with passion the

while; "recall this injurious epithet, or--"

"Or what? Dare you threaten me? I can pick the ace of hearts off a

card at twenty paces with a revolver, so beware; and yet I am not

obliged to meet any one who is amenable to the laws of war, and is in

a position so dubious as yours."

I was choking with rage; yet a conviction that he spoke with something

of warrant, so far as appearances went, and of the absolute necessity

for acting with policy, if I would leave myself a chance of winning

Valerie and escape greater perils than any I had encountered,

compelled me to assume a calmness of bearing I was far from feeling.

"Seek neither to threaten nor to trifle with me," said he, loftily and

grimly; "you may certainly know the common laws of war regarding the

retention of prisoners and the punishment of spies, but you know not

those of Russia. If I do not treat you as one of the latter, it is

because Volhonski is your friend; but I have it in my power, in

treating you as one of the former, to have you transmitted farther

than the Ukraine--to where you should never be heard of more. We are

not particular to a shade here," he continued, with a sneering smile;

"when the Emperor commanded a certain offender to be taken and

punished, the minister of police could not find the right individual.

What the deuce was to be done? Justice could not remain unsatisfied;

so, instead, he seized a poor German, who had just arrived and was

known to none. He slit his tongue, tore out his nostrils, sent him to

Siberia to hunt the ermine, and reported to the Czar that his orders

had been obeyed. So don't flatter yourself that any persons in office

among us would be very particular in analysing _any report_ that I may

transmit with you, a mere English captain!"

And rising from the table with these ominous words, he bowed to the

_eikon_, crossed himself after the Greek fashion, inserted a

_papirosse_ into his dense moustache, and limped away, leaving me in a

very unenviable frame of mind. Already I saw Valerie lost to me! I

beheld myself, in fancy, marched into the interior of Russia under

armed escort, maltreated and degraded, with my hands tied to the mane

of a Cossack pony, or a foot chained to a six-pound shot; a secret

report transmitted with me--a tissue of malevolent lies--to be acted

upon by some irresponsible official with a crackjaw name; to be never

more heard of, my sufferings and my ultimate fate to be--God alone

knew what!

I was weak enough to feel jealous of this ungainly Tolstoff--this

Muscovite Caliban--in addition to being seriously alarmed by his

threats, and enraged by his tone and bearing. Had Valerie ever viewed

him with favour? The idea was too absurd! If not, what right had _he_

to advise me concerning her? But then she was so beautiful, one could

not wonder that he--coarse though he was--might love her in secret.

Full of these and other thoughts that were vague and bitter, I quitted

the table just as Yourivitch was lighting the lamps, and wandered into

the long and now gloomy picture-gallery, one of the great windows of

which was open. Beyond it was a terrace, whereon I saw the figure of

Valerie. She was alone, and in defiance of all prudence and the

warning of Tolstoff, I followed her.