10
A FEMALE NIHILIST.
"I propose Vladimir)* the general astonish-
ment reached its height; for all present knew
her to be in love with the young Adonis.
"I propose Vladimir," continued Pavlovna,
quite unmoved, " and my reasons are these:—
" Vladimir has physical gifts to whose influ-
ence the Countess cannot remain insensible. He
is, moreover, a clever talker and a charmingcav-
alier, born foi a life of elegance and extrava-
gance, and I believe him to be plausible and
ready-witted. These are the qualities we can-
not dispense with; let us employ them."
The mathematical preciseness and self-pos-
sion of her address overcame even the most ob-
stinate: Pavlovna's triumph was complete.
As no one had uttered any protest, the pro-
posal was looked upon as carried: Vladimir
wore a careless smile; but he was ill at ease.
Who could have helped being so?
Yet, had it been possible to enter the inner-
most recesses of the young man's heart, the
disorder that shook it would have caused sur-
prise. Never had the highest hopes of his am-
bition risen so high. At one bound, directed
by tbe hand of this she-devil, this mad Pav-
lovna, he was to rise from earth to Heaven,
from extreme misery to extreme wealth! He
ielt as if he was in a dream.
" No one wishes to speak," said Riboffski.
" If no one has any objection to raise, we will
abide by Pavlovna's nomination." In his heart
he was not satisfied; he was even in rather a
bad temper.
" Excuse me," said Sergius, " I have two
words to say. My heart, my whole nature re-
volts from the compact that has just been made:
I do not approve of it at all. But I acquiesce
because I love the Revolution, and our plans re-
quire it.
"I demand two things: first, that Vladimir
shall swear in the usual terms, never after his
marriage with the Countess to do anything to
wound the kindness and simplicity of her heart.
For if he did so we might as well have been
pronouncing a death sentence upon her this
evening. Secondly, I demand that Vladimir
shall tell us what he means to do when he has
the disposal of the immense fortune and the
power which rank will give him at the Palace."
It was a decisive] moment; Vladimir under-
stood that Sergius held him but in small estima-
tion, and had rightly reckoned up his worth.
He swallowed his displeasure; ambition silenced
his spite, and, rising from his place, he cried :
"In the usual terms I swear to hold the
Countess in as much consideration as if she had
been the wife of my own choice."
"Be more explicit," said Sergius.
" I swear to be a good and loyal companion
to the Countess."
" Now," said Sergius, " let us proceed to the
second point. Do you swear to help your
brothers with all your.might, never to exclude
one of them, to spurn your fortune in the in-
terests of the cause? Do you swear never on
any occasion whatever to desert us? To favor
our doctrine and to assist its spreading with all
your might?"
" I swear it!" said Vladimir, rather pale and
excited.
" If you fail, it is death," added Riboffski.
At this moment Pavlovna gave Vladimir a
piece of paper.
"Read it at home," she said.
The sitting was at once broken up; the nihil-
ists dispersed.
Vladimir, at the street corner, by the light of
a lamp, began to read Pavlovna's little note.
What was in it?
IX.
COUNTESS STASIA AND   HER  GERMAN MISTRESS.
It was on the very day after the nihilist con-
ference at which those important resolutions
had been passed, that Pavlovna paid a visit to'
the Countess. She was well-known at the Ros-
toff Palace: every one recognized her as an old
acquaintance; she knew the ins and outs of the
house perfectly; so that unannounced she reach-
ed the waiting-hall in a moment, and traversing
it with velvety cat-like steps came to the private
apartment of the Countess, which she entered
without invitation or any other announcement
than her presence.
The private chamber, in which the Countess
had lived ever since she could remember, was
the most coquettish looking little work-room
imaginable.    Though Stasia was every inch a
woman, yet as her education had been directed
in the way which her natural instinct pointed
out as the best, the room had in it nothing sug-
gestive of feminine frivolity.
In the absence of its presiding deity, a stran-
ger suddenly admitted might have thought him-
self in the sanctuary of some rich virtuoso, who
was at once painter, philosopher, poet and
musician.
We hate descriptions: they stop the progress
of a story, and our age is over-addicted to their
employment. Suffice it to say that the walls
were covered with white moiré in a framework
of ebony studded with gold, that a superb patri-
cian beauty from Titian's brush displayed her
charms in the center of one panel, and that dis-
posed on stands about the room Italian sculpt-
ures, à la Canova, attracted but did not fatigue
the eye. On the étagères of extreme simplicity
were a few carefully chosen books, the essence
of the human mind" in every kind of culture.
On a little desk were some portraits, a glass
inkstand, a few scattered leaves, and lying open
a book of Ivan Tourguénieff, "The Waters of
Spring." Stasia was'reading it, not in the Rus-
sian original but in the French translation.
Poor Countess! she had just been undergoing
a visit from Nosimoff and Fritschen; and so,
in spite of herself, her face had assumed rather
a discontented frown, which, added to her usual
melancholy pout, caught Pavlovna's attention.
Her visit was opportune.
Stasia's brow soon cleared, and after kissing
the nihilist, she ordered .tea. They both sat
down.
" I was expecting you, Pavlovna. The sight
of you does me good. It rests me after receiv-
ing so many visits, all of which are either dis-
tasteful or foolish."
"Well, my sweet," said Pavlovna, in the
Russian fashion (it was thus she addressed her
pupil); "well! my sweet, mourning suits you.
The poor Count------"                                       i
But Pavlovna stopped herself in time: it
would not do, she thought to herself, to talk so
much about her recent mourning; so she added,
with an air of deliberation,
"Don't let us talk about him: may his soul
rest in peace! You are of most consequence at
present, my sweet!"
''' I am so lonely, Pavlovna, so lonely. This
great Palace with its vast apartments is killing
me. So I have formed a plan. I am going to
retire to my country house or ' retreat ' into the
Panhagia Convent."
"Impossible!" cried Pavlovna, with every
token of unfeigned astonishment. " What in a
few days, a few hours, can have changed you
so much ! You talk of burying yourself in the
country because you are lonely. . . But
what solitude can be more frightful than the
solitude of the woods?"
" Nevertheless, that is what I have decided
on."
" Fortunately, my sweet, I am at hand. You
shall do nothing of the sort.    I forbid you."
Stasia began to laugh.
" But what am 1 to do, then?"
" You must have some distraction."
" Of what kind?"
" Oh, I can't say; that is not a business that
I know much about; but if the bo'dy requires
medicine so does the soul; the cure for the
dumps is distraction, the sight of one's fellow-
creatures, a little excitement."
" Your recipe does not tempt me."
" Perhaps not. But see how the snow sparkles
through the windows, where the sun's red ray
is falling on it. I want to have a long talk with
you, my sweet; I have some projects, some
chimeras, and I want to tell you all about them.
Put on your veil, and let us take a turn on the
Perspective; let us breathe a little fresh air.
Shall we?"
" You are right; my mourning does not for-
bid fresh air; I feel almost stifled; let us go
out. "
The open sledge, always ready harnessed, as
is usual among the nobles, was at the door, with
the great -coachman motionless upon the box.
The sledge was a double one, and capable of
being harnessed as a troika, that is to say with
one horse to do the work, and two trotters from
the Steppes for ornament on either side; but
generally the Countess, who liked modesty and
simplicity in all things, satisfied herself with
two magnificent Arab racers, on whose backs a
fine meshed net was thrown, to prevent their
being covered by the snow.
It was exactly show-time on the Perspective:
for fashion is a tyrant all the world over; and
just as in Paris at certain seasons people go to
the Bois, so at St. Petersburg they take a turn
on the Nevski Perspective.
One goes from the Admiralty Square to the
Varsovian Railway Station and back again, a
distance about equal to that from the Madeleine
to the Bastile Column.
Here on a road of some length, the carriages
file past; it is a drive which is compulsory on
all, and which every one who prides himself on
being a member of society takes care never to
miss. It is a place where people see, recog-
nize, bow to, and criticize one another; where
new fashions are tried, at least such few as the
inevitable furs permit.
For, in Russia, ladies have no other real
resource than the beauty and variety of their
coiffure.
It is a charming sight: about two o'clock a
sort of indescribable light, or twilight, spreads
over the Russian boulevard; it is the sun trying
timidly and without success to pierce a cloud,
then the sky assumes the most varied and
strange hues; they would be called unnatural
in a picture, such a contrast is there of tender
pink with indigo, of purple red with brownish
yellow: the air seems clear and motionless as
crystal. Suddenly the snow falls in showers,
covering all this elegant show with frost: that
is the time they love: the snow is adored in
Russia: you find it everywhere not only on the
ground and in the air, but in every conversa-
tion and in the thoughts of all.
Here we may see the Grand Dukes and other
dignitaries riding past. There in her troika, a
celebrated French actress may be seen. Fur-
ther off is a "viveur," celebrated for his eccen-
tric tastes; by his side his usual money lender,
or a rich German banker, or some big trades-
man who is trying to buy an entrance into so-
ciety. Suddenly there is silence, the carriages
draw up in order; in a modest sledge, dressed
in the cloak of an under officer, a gloomy vis-
aged man drives by; he raises his hand to his
white cap; it is the Emperor!
A few paces after him, in a sledge exactly
similar, a man with white hair and whiskers is
standing up and is giving with an imperious
gesture some orders to the gardavoïs: it is the
prefect of police, one of the oldest Russian j
types, General Trépoff.                                          '
Variety is what is most wanting in this offi-
cial parade, which soon becomes a dreadful
bore: unless it is an accident, nothing ever
occurs to break the monotony that palls upon
the eyes and understanding. At Paris the offi-
cials change; everybody passes round the two
lakes or on the boulevards. At St. Petersburg
it is different, the same puppets are forever on
the same scene. Foreign capitals are like big
villages or provincial towns.
This, then, was the drive that Stasia consent-
ed to take with Pavlovna: they had often taken
it before: but to-day it seemed to both of them
as if they were now driving there for the first
time.
Stasia, brooding over her lonely dull life and
her recent sorrow, thought she had a friend
beside her.
Pavlovna was spinning the first threads of
her web, forming the first meshes of her net.
And so both betrayer and betrayed each lav-
ished tender and delicate attention on the other;
nor, so inscrutable is a woman's heert, can we
feel sure that Pavlovna in so doing was insin-
cere. The Russian mind is so unlike ours, it
takes such different views of the same subjects.
However that may have been, when they re-
turned, Stasia was the first to alight, and Pav-
lovna was about to let herself be driven home
by tbe big phlegmatic coachman as usual; but
the Countess invited her to alight.
" We will dine together. To spend my even-
ing alone to-day would be impossible. I could
not do it."
And Pavlovna, recurring to her plan and see-
ing in the Countess's caprice the finger of fate,
leaped lightly from the sledge. Meanwhile
Vladimir was musing over the letter given him
by Pavlovna after the meeting which had re-
sulted in his being intrusted with the future of
the cause.
It was short, but very singular, and ran tis
follows:—" Do not think me so disinterested as
to be ready to work on your behalf without any
certainty that I shall thereby win your love or
at least some gratitude. I am not so foolish as
that, though I do love you. Be prepared,
therefore, for a demand which I shall make
upon you, and which, according to our rites,
nobody will look on as exorbitant, at any rate