Danovitch and other stories

Front matter

DANOVITCH AND OTHER STORIES DANOVITCH AND OTHER STORIES BY WALTER B. HARRIS AUTHOR OF 'A JOURNEY THROUGH THE YEMEN* WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCXCV AU Rights reserved CONTENTS. PAGE DANOVITCH : A RUSSIAN ROMANCE . . I THE FALLING AWAY OF CAPTAIN METFORD : A TALE . . . . . .Ill THE DIARY OF PAUL STRANGE, ARTIST . .195 A TALE OF THE BULL-RING . . .261 'RIKSHA COOLIE SIXTY-NINE : A TALE OF JAPAN 277 THE CALL TO PRAYER : A MOORISH TALE . DANOVITCH A RUSSIAN ROMANCE DANOVITCH

Chapter I

npWO men were seated in an office. ■*- It was not an office like that of any great commercial house in London. It was a small room with two windows, closely barred, looking out into a courtyard. Yet in spite of the prison look that these barred windows gave the place, it was a comfortable office. The floor was covered by a rich carpet from Persia. A tall stove burned in one corner — a high iron stove, half sunk into the wall. A large desk and a few chairs were all the furniture it contained, unless the big iron safe Danovitch. 4 which stood open with a bunch of keys in the lock could be classed as furniture. The writing-table stood near the window, the writer's seat being arranged that the light fell from behind him, yet sufficiently to one side to allow him to write without his hand casting a shadow over his work.

On the table lay a pile of papers and a number of books, two or three of the latter dictionaries of foreign lan guages. A wire or two hung from the ceiling, with incandescent lamps affixed. Two men sat in the room — one at the writing-table, one on a chair facing him. One could see then why the table was so placed, so that the light from the window might fall full on the face of any one who sat opposite the desk. The man who occupied the desk now was elderly. His grey hair was cropped close to his head, from which it stood up straight. A grey moustache, almost white, covered his upper lip. The complexion was pale, almost sallow, the face thin. The nose, slightly arched, Danovitch. 5 seemed to hint at Jewish origin. The lips were narrow, and held firmly together. Heavy dark eyebrows almost hid the narrow bright blue eyes that lay below.

Circles surrounded the eyes, but it was difficult to say whether they were the marks of time, illness, or work. He wore a black frock-coat, with a small red button on one lapel. Beneath showed a white waistcoat, and a dark tie fastened in a large bow. His hands, half covered with the white shining cuffs, were thin and long and intensely white, almost as white as the cuffs themselves, which were fastened with great black solitaire studs with a silver coronet on each. The other man was young. His hair, like the elder's, was cropped short, but, short as it was, seemed to have a tendency to curl ; a brown moustache and beard covered the lower portion of his face. His forehead was high and slightly tanned by the sun ; his brows fine and arched, but darker in colour than his hair. His lashes, too, were dark, and surrounded Danovitch. 6 eyes of a bright blue — a blue that was almost mauve.

His nose was long and narrow, form ing almost a straight line with his forehead. He was dressed as an Englishman in a tweed suit ; but fair as he was, he did not look altogether an Englishman. Any one who had been asked would have said his father was English, his mother — I don't know what. His head was buried in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, at this moment. The elder man was watching him carefully from under those heavy eyebrows, though apparently all his attention was engrossed in the paring of his nails with a penknife. The young man did not move. Neither spoke. Presently the elder of the two seemed tired of paring his nails, and toyed with a quill-pen a little. Still the young man did not move nor speak. The man at the desk touched a bell. A moment later the door opened, and a clerk in plain clothes entered.

Danovitch. 7 " Is Abdurrahman there ? " "Yes, monsieur." They spoke in French. " Tell him to come in. I will see him now." " Yes, monsieur." A minute later the door opened, and a strange figure entered. Abdurrahman was an Arab — a tall sunburnt Arab. He wore the dress of his people, the loose flowing robes, in this case of yellow and white. On his head an immense turban almost concealed his red fez. It was a handsome face, bronzed by the sun, with regular features and black piercing eyes. He left his slippers at the door as he entered, and walked across the room bare footed over the soft carpet, until he stood opposite the writing-table. He bowed slowly. " Welcome, Abdurrahman ! You have ar rived to-day? " Danovitch. 8 "Your carpet is as soft as the grass on the hillside in spring," responded the Arab, still standing.

A frown passed over the European's face. This was trifling, and he was too busy a man to trifle. He seemed to realise his position at once, however, and saw that his guest was too much of an oriental to proceed to business at once. He struck the bell. The same man answered it as before. " Coffee," was all he said. It broke the spell. "Yes, I have arrived to-day. It is cold here." " You find it so ? draw nearer the stove. Sit here." The man had risen from his desk and placed a large chair before the stove. With out a word of thanks Abdurrahman seated himself, tucking his bare feet under him in true Arab fashion. They were speaking in Arabic. A stranger Danovitch. 9 could not notice any difference in their pro nunciation, yet one who knew the language could have told that it was the European who was speaking the purer dialect, the Arab's being more or less a patois.

Coffee arrived, brought by a servant in livery — two tiny china cups balanced in gold holders on an oriental tray. Abdurrahman took one in his hand, and looked at it for a moment. " Is this mine ? " he asked the European. " Either — whichever you please." "Is this mine?" Abdurrahman repeated the question calmly, as though no answer had been given. " Yes, that is yours," responded the other, apparently annoyed. " Then I will drink yours," said the Arab, smiling gently, " and you shall drink mine." The European laughed harshly. "You need have no fear, we are not in Persia," he said. Danovitch. 10 " No," answered the Arab, " but we are in Russia." With the coffee business commenced. "Tell me your news." "The Englishman you wrote about has »l gone. " You took him ? " " Yes, we took him." " What did he say for himself?

" "Nothing. Oh yes, he said he was travelling for pleasure, for sport. I asked him why he wore Arab clothes ? — why he passed him self as a Mohammedan, when he was a dog of a Christian ? " The other smiled. " He said," continued Abdurrahman, " that he did so because it attracted less suspicion, — because he travelled more easily in that guise. But he is gone." " Where ? " " To a far-off land." "Where?" Danovitch. 11 " To where all unbelievers go — to hell." Again the European laughed. " You are polite," he said. " It is my nature," — and the Arab smiled again, that soft smile that meant nothing — absolutely nothing. " You have no news ? " asked the man at the desk, after a moment or two's pause. " I have no news." " And you return — when ? " " Now, to-morrow, in a month, when it pleases you."

" You want money ? " " I have come here for that." " You remember the price arranged for — for ■for " " For sending the Englishman who travelled for pleasure and sport to where all unbelievers go. Yes, I remember the price." " You believe him innocent ? " " I know him to have been so." "Then why did you — send him away?" Danovitch. 12 " Because I wanted money." "Yet your Koran says of the avaricious — ' On the day of judgment their treasures shall be melted in the fire of hell, and their bodies branded therewith.' " " You omit half the quotation," added Abdurrahman, — "'unless they use it not for the advancement of God's true religion.' For that purpose I use it."1 The Russian rose from his seat and took a bundle of notes from his safe. The Arab proceeded to count them out " There is no need to count them ; there is more than our bargain there."

" Blessed are those who give more than they owe," said Abdurrahman, thankfully. " When shall I see you again ?" "When next I can — send away — yes, send away — an Englishman who is suspected of stirring up anti - Russian feelings on the Persian borders." 1 Al Koran, chap, ix., "The declaration of immunity. Danovitch. 13 "And then?" "Then I will come for some more money." " Perhaps you will not get it." " Then my tribe will ask British protection. And now, farewell." The Arab rose slowly from his seat and bowed to the Russian, then as slowly walked across the room, slipping his feet into his shoes, and, just as a servant opened the door, bowed himself out. The Russian sat down at his desk, and commenced looking for something there ; made a note in a book, which he placed in the safe ; then once more turned over his papers, as if he had mislaid some article, but without success.

" Well ? " he asked presently. The young man started, and raised his head. " Well ? " he asked again. " I cannot," groaned the young man " You Montenegrins are not usually cowards." Danovitch. 14 The young man sprang to his feet " I am no coward ! " he cried ; " God knows, I am no coward ! " Again there was silence for a minute or two. Presently the elder, with aggravating per sistency, said again — " Well ? " Again the young man looked up. " No," was all the response he gave. "Then I will not trouble you further." These words were in freezing tones. " You can go to poverty, hunger, sickness — ay, death. Good day." The young man rose and turned to the door. The Russian touched the bell, and a servant opened it. At the threshold he hesi tated for a moment, turned back, and said eagerly, "Yes, I will do it."

" You are wise." " No, no ! I am mad ! but madness is better than starvation." "You are decided?" Danovitch. 15 "Yes, I am decided." "Then sign this. You know its con tents." More like a machine than a man, the younger took a quill-pen and signed a deed. " I feel like Faust with Mephistopheles," he said, almost hysterically, the moment he had signed. "You are complimentary, like my Arab friend ; but I forget you could not under stand him. Anyhow, my Faust, you have not lost your soul." " No, but I have lost my honour." "Bah! — honour! What good is honour? And you have won this," and he handed him a bundle of notes. " When you want more, let me know." Then he added, "You know your orders. You will start at once." "At once." " Then good-bye." " Good-bye." There was no friendliness in their parting.

Danovitch. The words were uttered as though they were glad to be rid of one another. Again the young man reached the door ; again he hesitated. The Russian was stooping to place the newly signed deed in a drawer. He looked up and saw the hesitation in the other's face. He lifted his pen and waved it, smiling. "Too late, my young Dr Faust — too late." " Yes, too late," he echoed, and crumbling the notes into his pocket, he left the room. For a moment the Russian stood still, and then he buried his face in his hands on the table, and cried — " At last, at last ! Twenty-five years waiting for my time — and now — and now." He pulled himself suddenly together, lit a cigarette, and rang his bell. The clerk answered. " Tell Yetinsky I am ready now," he said.

Chapter II

In a handsomely furnished study, rich in dark oak, with books on the walls from floor to ceiling, sat Count Dmitresky writing. One could not see his face, for he was bending diligently over his work, but with his black velvet skull - cap and long white beard he might almost have been taken for an old astrologer. A single reading - lamp was all the light the room contained, and it served only to give an appearance of darkness to the surrounding bookcases of oak and the dark covers of the books. There was perfect silence in the room, and except that the man's hand travelled fast over the paper one would have thought it uninhabited, and B Danovitch. that the black skull-cap and grey beard be longed to a waxen figure. Presently the Count raised his head. Then one could see his face — a comfortable face, stout and hearty, with rather a flat large nose and bright twinkling eyes, yet a face that looked as though it had known sorrow as well as happiness.

For a moment or two he sat gazing before him, then he took his manuscript up, carefully sorted the numbered pages, and put them in order. Rolling them, he fastened the bundle with a piece of string, and rose to his feet. Then he walked across the room to one of the bookcases, drew out half-a-dozen books, pushed his hand in behind those that re mained, and laid his manuscript to rest in the double back of the bookshelf. Once more he replaced the books he had removed, approached the stove, and, opening its brass door, threw in a couple of pine-logs from a basket. The open stove -door cast its red Danovitch. 19 reflection on the bookshelves and rich pan elled ceiling. The Count drew a chair to the fire and sat himself down in it, but he could not settle himself comfortably. He rose again, drew from his pocket a cigarette - case of silver decorated in black, with a picture of a sledge, took out a tiny cigarette, and lit it with a match from a small gold match box which hung on his chain.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He might have been asleep, but that every now and then a whiff of white smoke issued from his mouth and circled into the gloom above. His cigarette burned out, but still he lay on. Presently he rose and walked to the window. Drawing back the heavy velvet curtain, he looked without. Snow was falling fast, and beating against the double glass window. The wind shrieked and whistled in the bare trees. Danovitch. 20 He shivered and walked back to the stove, threw a few more logs in, and settled himself once more. Presently a servant entered, — a handsome, bearded, fair man in Russian dress, black velvet and red silk, with tall boots on. He brought some cognac and two bottles of soda. " No, I will take tea to - night," said the Count, as the servant stood before him with the tray.

The man walked toward the door, hesitated for a moment, then spoke. " Excellency." " Yes." "There has been a sledge accident near here." " Indeed ! " " A gentleman was in the sledge ; it had been overturned, and Prowsky, on his return from town, found him lying in the snow." " It would be like Prowsky to leave him there." Danovitch. 21 " No ; he brought him here, Excellency." " That's all right— where is he ? " " He is lying now nearly insensible in my room — we have wrapped him up in blankets." "When he is better come and tell me. I would like to see him. Do all you can for him." "Yes, Excellency." The man was leaving. " Give him some warm port wine," the Count called after him. " Yes, Excellency." Half an hour passed. Then the servant returned. "The gentleman is better," he said, "and we have thawed his clothes and dried them He is dressed again."

" Ask him to come here — if he is well enough." The servant left. Presently the door was opened, and a few seconds later the benighted stranger entered. Danovitch. 22 He was a tall young man, well-built, and handsome in feature. His eyes were large and blue, surrounded by dark lashes, while his eyebrows were of the same dark shade, and slightly arched. His forehead was white and high — whiter than usual, perhaps, for his exposure to cold. His brown hair curled loosely all over his head. His nose was what is known as a Greek nose, straight and fine. His mouth was a trifle effeminate, the lips wide and very pink. He was clean shaven. His clothes were evidently of foreign make ; a loose double-breasted jacket of thick grey cloth, trousers of the same material, and a silk shirt very open at the neck, were its principal characteristics.

As he walked across the room, gloomy as it was, the Count read his face and liked it. As the young man approached, the elder rose and held out his hand. He was on the point of speaking when the young man inter rupted him. Danovitch. 23 " I must apologise," he said, " for my intru sion, and thank you for your hospitality. I owe my life to your kindness." The words were simple, just what would have been expected under the circumstances ; yet there was a pleasant ring in the speaker's voice that made them sound even more sincere. " Nonsense ! " said the Count. " Sit down, my friend, here before the stove, and keep warm, or you will be ill to-morrow." Then turning to the servant, who still lingered, he said, " Bring the tea." They spoke in Russian, the young man very fluently but with a slight foreign accent.

" You are a Russian ? " asked the Count. "Oh no," he replied, "I am an English man ; but my mother was a Russian, and so I speak the language tolerably well, although I have seen but little of the country yet." "And you are travelling to see the country •your mother's land ? Well, you have chosen Danovitch. 24 the worst season of the year. Winter is not the time to travel in these parts, where there are no railways." " No ; so I have discovered. But people told me in England that the winters were not severe in Southern Russia." " All the winters are severe, this one more so than usual; and," he added, " by listening to what people who know nothing about it say, you have nearly lost your life." "And you have saved it," replied the other, with a ring of thanks in his voice. " Another word and I will put you out in the snow again," laughed the elder man.

A servant entered and wheeled a table be fore them, on which he set a large samovar,1 two tumblers, some sugar, and a lemon. " We out-of-date Russians in the country still stick to our samovar, you see." " I love the samovar," replied the other. " It reminds me of my childhood. My mother 1 The Russian urn. Danovitch. 25 was enough of a Russian always to use hers, even in England ; and it brings back old associations of her." " She is dead ? " asked the other, quietly. " Yes, she is dead " — he paused, then added, " and my father too. He was a soldier, but inherited property, and left the army to live on his estate. He was killed hunting last winter." "And you " I am a wanderer. I have let the old place. I have no relations now, so I wander — sometimes here, sometimes there. I thought of going to Central Asia after leaving Russia."

" Indeed ! " said the Count, whose travels consisted in one visit of a month or two to St Petersburg every year — a long journey, too, from this estate in the south. They drank their tea in silence. Both seemed buried in reverie. It was the young man who first broke the silence. " I may stay here to-night ? " he asked. Danovitch. " Of course, of course. Stay here to-night ? Why, where do think you are going else ? " " I was trying to reach Count Dmitresky's place." " Why, man, you are in it ! " " You are Count Dmitresky ? " Yes, I am he. You were coming to see me ? Well, good luck has favoured you, and a sledge accident has brought you to my door." "I lost my way; where I should have been by now if the accident had not happened I do not know. I have a letter for you." He opened his coat and drew a small leather pocket-book from his inside pocket — the wet and snow had not reached its con tents — and extracted a note from it, which he handed to the Count.

The Count tore it open and read it hastily ; then rising, he grasped the young man's hand and said — "Any one recommended to me by Orenof Danovitch. 27 is indeed welcome. When did you see him last ? " " I saw him ten days ago in St Petersburg." " He was well ? " " Enjoying the best of health." " Well, good fortune has brought you to my house when you might be lying in the snow. You are most welcome, Mr" — he looked at the letter to find his name — " Leslie Smith." And he grasped his hand. " Orenof tells me you are writing a book here in Russia." " I am.' "On Russia?" " On the condition of the Russian peas antry," he added, looking round him. " I did not tell you before, — one has to be careful of what one says in this country." "Ay, indeed," added the other; "but you are safe here. Some walls have ears, but not mine.

You will stay with me a long time, then — weeks ? My daughter is away. I am all alone. You will be dull, but I am delighted Danovitch. to have you. You will stay a long time, Mr Leslie Smith ?" "A few days only, I fear — perhaps a week." " And you can write a book in a week ?" "No; but I must travel on. I am collect ing facts from all parts, — much lies before me yet." " I have heaps of facts. I, too, have col lected them — facts of oppression and cruelty ; but you must say nothing about it. I will help you." " Thank you, many thanks ; we will talk over it to-morrow. Don't think me rude, but I am tired, very tired." " I am a fool to have been keeping you up." He rang a bell. The servant entered. "Show Mr Smith his room; his luggage is here ? " " Yes, sir ; we sent for it at once. It came half an hour ago."

"Where have you made up Mr Smith's room ? " Danovitch. 29 " In the north wing, sir. "Well, well, that must do for to-night. To-morrow move him into the room next to mine. You will not mind an out-of-the-way room to-night?" " I would not mind anything to-night, I am so tired." They parted at the door, and the servant showed Mr Smith his room. His luggage was already there. The servant lit a couple of candles on the dressing-table, and fetched him some hot water. " Can I get you anything more, sir ? " " No, nothing more, thank you. Good night." " Good night, sir Cold and fatigue had apparently told on Mr Smith. For a moment he stood before the dressing-table, pale and trembling, then threw himself full length on the bed, his face buried in his hands. " O my God ! " he sobbed. " O my God ! " Danovitch. 30 Then he undressed, feverish and nervous, and blowing out the candles, crept into bed. Cold and fatigue had tired him beyond measure, and sleep soon came, deep, dream less, refreshing sleep.

Chapter III

A week had passed by. For the first few days the book had no more been talked about between Count Dmitresky and Leslie Smith, but as the acquaintanceship ripened into sincerest friendship on both sides the subject was again mentioned. It was one evening that they were sitting as usual in the library. Both had been silent for some minutes, the elder man gazing at the Englishman's handsome profile as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. The Count was thinking of his son, who had died when quite a boy. He would have been just Leslie's age now. He always thought of him as Leslie, and often called Danovitch. 32 him so. Perhaps just such another honest, good - looking fellow ; but it was no good thinking — he was dead now, had been dead wellnigh upon twenty years. There was Pauline certainly left, but she was younger, and she was a girl.

Sweet Pauline ! when would she come back from her aunt's at Odessa ? — soon, he hoped. But when he wrote, which he did nearly every day, he urged her to stay, it must be so dull for her in this great house, all alone with an old man like him, — and then he was cross, too, when he had the gout. Such were Count Dmitresky's thoughts as he watched the young man's face in the gloom of the library. It was Leslie Smith broke the silence. " Three days have passed," he said, " and I have not touched my book." " You are getting dull that you remember your work again. But what else can I ex pect ? — an empty house, no neighbours, and only an old man for company." Danovitch. 33 " No ; far from it ! far from it ! I am not dull ; I could not be dull, what with your com pany, and when you are not here, your books."

" One can often judge a man's character by the books he reads. Tell me what have you been reading while I was out to-day ? " " Well, I spent an hour turning over the books until I found an old Arabic manuscript on vellum, richly illuminated. It is an in teresting account of Mecca and the surround ing country, and I read it to see whether it " You read Arabic ? " interrupted the Count. "Yes, fluently. For four years before my mother died we lived entirely in Egypt, and I being a boy picked up the language at once. My father had me taught to read and write it." " Then you speak it fluently too ? " Yes ; almost like a native.' There was no tone of pride in his accom plishment. Rather it seemed that he took c Danovitch. 34 it as a matter of course that he should speak the language. " And were you repaid for reading it ?

" " No : it contained nothing of very great interest." " And what do you intend to read to morrow ? " "To-morrow I shall work at my book." "And I will help you." "You are too good. Why do you take all this trouble for a stranger ? " " No ; not a stranger, Leslie — not a stranger. He was silent for a minute or two " I had a son once. If he had lived he might have been as good, as handsome a young man as you are, with your honest English face. But he died — God's will be done. Leslie, will you stay and be a son to me?" — he spoke hurriedly. "I have no one now but Pauline, and she is nineteen years of age, and will soon marry, I expect, and Danovitch. 35 I shall be left alone. Could you bear to be always with an old man in this great house ? I have books and horses and guns for you — everything you could wish.

Tell me, Leslie, my boy, will you stay with me always ? I have a vacant place in my heart ; Pauline fills most of it, but there is room for another — will you stay and fill that void ? " Leslie rose and took the old man's hand. Their eyes met. There was a look of mutual friendship and trust — ay, of mutual love. " It is too soon," he said, " too soon. I have only been in the house a week. You might repent, you know, when it was too late. No ; it would not be fair to you. No ; I cannot stay always." " I have weighed it in my mind, Leslie. I never change. I liked your upright, honest look the moment I saw you. I knew I could trust the man before me. Stay, Leslie ; stay always, my boy." Danovitch 36 Tears stood in his eyes. "You do not know what you are asking," Leslie answered softly. " Let me stay with you a month or two, and then if you wish it ask me.