Three Weeks

"My darling," said Paul, in his strong young pride "fear nothing, I shall never leave you. I will protect you from any danger in the world, only depend upon me, sweetheart. Nothing can hurt you while I am here."

"Do you think I care a sou for my life?" she said, while she stood straight up again with the majesty of a queen. "Do you think I feared for me--for myself? Oh! no, my own lover, never that! They can kill me when they choose, but they won't; it is you for whom I fear. Only your danger could make me cower, no other in the whole world."

Paul laughed with joy at her speech. "There is nothing to fear at all then, darling," he said. "I can take care of myself, you know. I am an Englishman."

And even in the tumult of her thoughts the lady found time to smile with tender amusement at the young insular arrogance of his last words. An Englishman, forsooth! Of course that meant a kind of god untouched by the failings of other nations. A great rush of pride in him came over her and gladdened her. He was indeed a splendid picture of youth and strength, as he stood there, the sunlight gilding his fair hair, and all the magnificent proportions of his figure thrown into relief against the background of grey stone and sky, an insouciante smile on his lips, and all the light of love and self-confidence in his fine blue eyes.

She responded to the fire in them, and appeared to grow comforted and at peace. But all the way back through the wood to the Kalibad Hotel she glanced furtively into the shadows, while she talked gaily as she held Paul's arm.

And he never asked her a question as to where she expected the danger to come from. No anxiety for his own safety troubled him one jot--indeed, an unwonted extra excitement flooded his veins, making him enjoy himself with an added zest.

Dmitry as usual awaited them at the hotel; his face was serene, but when Paul's back was turned for a moment while he lit a cigarette, the lady questioned her servant with whispered fierceness in the Russian tongue. Apparently his answer was satisfactory, for she looked relieved, and presently, seated on the terrace, they had a merry tea--the last they would have on mountain tops, for she broke it gently to Paul that on the morrow she must return to Lucerne. Paul felt as if his heart had stopped beating. Return to Lucerne! O God! not to part--surely not to part--so soon!