His lady had indeed been very ill, Paul gathered--at death's door. Ah!
this was terrible to hear--but lately she was mending rapidly, only she had
been too ill to plan or make any arrangements to see him. How all this made
his heart ache! Something had told him his passionate anxiety had not been
without cause. Dmitry continued: Madame's life was not a happy one, the
Excellency must know, and the difficulties surrounding her had become
formidable once or twice. However, the brother of Madame was with her now,
and had been made guardian of her son--so things were peaceful and the
cause of all her trouble would not dare to menace further.
For once Dmitry had let himself go, as he spoke, and a passionate hate
appeared in his quiet eyes. The "Trouble" was of so impossible a
viciousness that only the nobility and goodness of Madame had prevented his
assassination numbers of times. He was hated, he said, hated and loathed;
his life--spent in continual drunkenness, and worse, unspeakable
wickedness--was not worth a day's purchase, but for her. The son of Madame
would be loved forever, for her sake, so the Excellency need not fear for
that, and Madame's brother was there, and would see all was well.
Then Paul asked Dmitry if his lady had been aware that he had been ill in
Venice.
Pages:
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203