At length they came in full view, and alas! there could be no mistake, the
flagstaff upon the villa roof was empty.
To the day of his death Paul will keep a vivid picture of the pure
white-columned house. No semi-Oriental architecture met his view, but a
beautiful marble structure in the graceful Ionic style, seeming a suitable
habitation for his Queen.
It was approached by groves of ilex, from a wall at the edge of the
sea. And now Paul could discern the landing-stage, and the great studded
door.
A sensation of foreboding--a wild, mad anxiety, filled his being. What had
happened? Why might he not land? Then for the first time that fact of
Vasili's vanishment came into his mind. Was there something sinister in
it? Had he scented any danger to his Queen, and gone to see? A whirlwind of
questions and frenzied speculation shook Paul's brain. But there was
nothing to be done now but to cram on all steam and make for
Constantinople.
He looked again. The green _jalousies_ were lowered over the windows, all
seemed peaceful, silent and deserted. No living being wandered in the
gardens. It might have been a mausoleum for the dead. And as this thought
came to him Paul almost cried aloud.
Then he dominated himself. How weak and intolerably foolish to imagine evil
where perhaps none was! Why should his thoughts fly to terrible reasons for
the postponement of his joy, when in truth they could as well be of the
simplest? A sudden call to the city--a descent of some undesirable spying
eye--a hundred and one possible things, all much more likely than any ones
of fear.
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