The Intriguers

The Prince seemed to accept her explanation readily. “Well, I am certain you will enjoy yourself. Your great favourite, Corsini, is sure to play that little romance which has so captivated you. I really asked him here to give you pleasure.”

Was it fancy, or did she really catch the ghost of a sneering smile on the hard, handsome face, as he turned to leave the room?

“Base, treacherous hypocrite!” she murmured when she was alone. “Why have I been cursed with such a brother, my poor mother with such a son?”

CHAPTER XV

More than one of her admirers noted that La Belle Quéro was not in her best form to-night. Her acting lacked its usual spontaneity, and several times she sang flat.

Those who thought themselves in the know, put down the inequality of her performance to some recent tiff with Prince Zouroff. But this was only a surmise, not a fact. Zouroff, of course, was in her thoughts, but only in connection with Corsini.

It was the danger threatening the handsome young Italian that caused her to sing flat and provoke those unflattering comments amongst her usually loyal audience.

Again in the early part of the evening she had sought him in his private room, and for the second time endeavoured to dissuade him from going to the Zouroff Palace. He was convinced in his own mind that it was unworthy jealousy of the Princess Nada which had prompted her action.

Perhaps, a short time ago, he would have felt a certain amount of pity for an affection that was so thoroughly misplaced. But Golitzine’s plain hints had destroyed his former feelings of friendship. He could only regard her interference now with resentment.

He looked at her very steadily. “Give me some intelligent reason for breaking my promise, Madame, and I will go so far as to say I will consider it.”

She turned pale and bit her lip in manifest agitation. What he asked her was precisely what she could not do. After that none too veiled threat of Zouroff’s, that if she failed him he would show her no mercy, she dare not betray him by telling the truth.

But she was a woman of considerable resource and she thought she might get round him by appealing to his pride.

“I do not know that I can advance any very sufficient reason, except that we have been good friends, and it annoys me to find you refusing to place a proper value on yourself.”

“How am I making myself cheap by playing at the Zouroff Palace, Madame? Like yourself, I am an artist and follow my art; certainly because I love it, but also because it procures me a substantial reward. If I play for the Countess Golitzine and others, I can play without loss of dignity for the Princess Zouroff.”

She saw her opportunity, and took advantage of it swiftly. “I am not speaking of women, my good friend. It is the Prince himself who is in my mind. You have told me half a dozen times that this man treats you with the greatest hauteur, hardly deigns to return your salutation. He is, after all, the master of the house. It seems to me that if you respected yourself, as I should wish you to do, you would refuse to give him the chance of insulting you.”

Corsini could easily have retorted that La Belle Quéro, in her professional capacity, attended many houses where the women showed her as scant courtesy as the autocratic Prince displayed towards him; but he was of too chivalrous a nature to hurt the pride of a woman.

Anyway, she did not give him the real reason, which he still believed to be that unworthy jealousy of the charming young Princess.

He shrugged his shoulders in real, or assumed, indifference. “I must not say too much about this Zouroff, because we all know he is a great friend of yours. He certainly might take a lesson in manners, but I don’t know that his want of them affects me very greatly.”

“Still, his discourtesy hurts you, or you would not have dwelt upon it so often as you have done,” retorted Madame, woman-like following out her point.

Corsini rose; he was rather tired of the argument.

“If it is so, Madame, I shall not pay him the compliment of staying away. I would not give him the triumph of thinking that he was capable of hurting me.”

She saw it was useless. “It must be as you wish, Signor;” there was a note of sadness in her voice as she turned away. She left the room, murmuring to herself, “I have tried my best. It is the sister who draws him, and she must wish as fervently as I do that he would stay away.”

It was early in the evening when she had sought this interview, and as the hours sped on, bringing Corsini nearer to the time of his appointment, her agitation increased. If she could only know if the Princess had thought of anything, if she had taken any steps to prevent the tragedy which she felt sure was impending.

With a woman of her nervous and excitable temperament, to express a wish was to carry it swiftly into execution. The Opera finished early that night. She drove home at once to her villa, summoned her maid, and bade her change her costume.

A few moments later she came back to the waiting carriage, attired in clothes befitting a woman of the poorer classes, and drove to within a short distance of the Zouroff Palace. She walked on foot to the servants’ entrance and demanded to see the Princess’s maid, Katerina, on very urgent business.

The girl came to the door, wondering who her visitor could be, what was the cause of this imperative summons.

The prima donna laid her finger on her lips to impress caution and secrecy.

“We must speak very low, if you please. I am Madame Quéro, the person you showed yesterday into your young mistress’s room. Can you convey a message from me to her now?”

Katerina looked at the strange visitor who had disguised herself so successfully. Had she met her in the street, she would have passed her by without knowing her. But now that Madame Quéro had recalled herself to her recollection, she at once recognised the popular singer, in spite of her humble attire.

“If you don’t mind waiting a few moments, Madame, I think I can manage it. But I am afraid I shall have to ask you to wait outside. Am I to take a letter?”

“I will wait outside, certainly. No, no letter, it might excite suspicion. Just take this message to your mistress: Has she been able to take any steps with regard to the matter we spoke of yesterday? A few words, yes or no, will do for an answer.”

The door was closed, and La Belle Quéro, one of the idols of St. Petersburg, waited in the darkness for a message to be delivered by a lady’s maid. For a moment, as she stood there, she laughed a little hysterically at the situation.

The Zouroff Palace had never opened its doors to her, even in a professional capacity, for the Princess was a grande dame, and very rigid in her social views. But there were other great houses, presided over by hostesses with a more elastic code for people of genius who had entertained her as a guest.

It was, to say the least of it, a little bizarre that she should be waiting outside the servants’ quarters, dressed in working-woman’s attire, because she did not want one lover to injure another man who might have been a lover had he chosen.

The minutes sped by; it seemed an eternity to the anxious woman waiting there. Then at last the door was opened cautiously, and Katerina spoke in a low voice.

“A thousand pardons for keeping you waiting so long, Madame, but it was very difficult to get hold of the young Princess. There is a big reception on to-night.”

“I know, I know,” interrupted the singer eagerly. This obliging girl, like most of her class, was apt to be garrulous. “Has she sent an answer?”

Katerina looked a little offended. Her good-humoured young mistress never interrupted her, even in her most prolix moments. She spoke stiffly.

“Yes, Madame, I was coming to that in a second. She has taken certain steps which she devoutly hopes will insure the result you both desire, but of course she cannot be certain.” Suddenly the maid’s tone changed, and she dropped a very profound curtsey. “It is very kind of you, Madame, but it was really not necessary. I am only too pleased to have been of use.”

The change in tone was due to the fact that Madame Quéro had slipped into her hand a substantial sum of money, immediately afterwards disappearing into the darkness.

Although not happy nor assured, she felt relieved to know that something had been done to thwart the Prince’s sinister designs.

She walked swiftly to her carriage, and on her way passed Corsini, who was going in the direction of the Palace with his beloved violin-case in his hand. It was a peculiarity of the Italian that he never drove where he could walk. She shuddered as she wondered if he was going to his doom, or if the Princess’s fervent hopes would be realised.

For a moment a wild impulse urged her to turn back and run after him, to blurt out the truth and implore his silence. But the instinct of self-preservation prevailed and the impulse was combated.

Zouroff’s dark threat rang in her ears. And if the Prince’s suspicions were correct, Corsini was in the pay of Golitzine. If that were true, she would entreat his silence in vain. Even gratitude for his escape would not blind him to his obvious duty.

Corsini ascended the staircase, and the first person he met on entering the handsome gilded music-salon was the master of the house. To the Italian’s intense surprise the Prince held out his hand and greeted him with an apparent show of cordiality.

“Ah, good evening, Signor. You are a little late – is it not so? Many of your admirers have been asking after you and fearing that you were not able to come.”

Nello, a man of a most frank and trusting disposition, was almost overcome by this condescension. Had he misjudged the man after all? A great Russian nobleman of ancient lineage might be disposed to look down upon meaner persons who could boast of neither wealth nor origin. At any rate, he was behaving well in his own house, was not reminding him of the difference between their stations.

“I am afraid I am a little late, Prince. But I will make amends. If they desire an extra encore they shall have it.” Thus Nello, a little elated by Zouroff’s subtle suggestion that he was a person of great importance in the world of art, and his audience was waiting impatiently for his arrival.

He played very beautifully that night. The enthusiasm of his listeners was so great that he had to grant not one, but three encores. At last he left the platform.

The Princess Nada met him as he descended the few marble steps.