My Official Wife. A novel

Front matter

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Book I. The Official Wedding

PAGE. Chapter I. — The Bride, 7 " II. — "What would Dick Gaines say to this?" .... __(_) " -III. — Miss Vanderbilt-Astor, - - - 31 " IV. — Baron Friedrich, - - - 41 " V. — La Belle Americaine, - - - 55 " VI. — My AVedding Dinner, 74

Book II

A HORRIBLE HONEYMOON. Chapter VII. — Opening Joys, - - - - 84 " VIII. — I Lunch with Baron Friedrich, 100 " IX. — Society Fetes the Bride, - - 115 " X. — Naughty Sacha, - - - 131 " XI. — The Pocket in the Ball-dress, - 149 « XII.— The Ignatief's Ball, - - 162 v VI CONTEXTS.

Book III. Dissolving The Bonds

PAGB Chapter XIII. — The Massage of Hate, - - - 177 XIV.— The Rat-trap Closes, - - 185 XV— AVhich Brother? - - - - 195 " XVI. — The Last Coup of the Despairing Rat, - - - - 212 " XVII, —At the Opera in Paris, - -

Book I

The Official Wedding. chapter I. THE bride. We all shivered in the chilly winter air as the clicking wheels sped along over the plains of East ern Prussia. Our fast express was approaching grim old Konigsberg. Farm and village, wood and brook, marsh and river, flew by in a sort of wild dance. Wrapped in rugs, snugly ensconced in the well padded little compartments, our polyglot passengers dozed, smoked, grumbled, or chatted freely, as the varying spirits of the motley assemblage dic tated. I had seen few of my camarades de voyage, as the cross-divisions of the little cars prevent in Germany our American excursions of discovery through the train. The unusual hour of midnight is selected for de spatching the " Schnell-zug " from Berlin for St. Petersburg. In this I had realized the haughty scorn of the German railroad bureaucracy for pop ular comfort.

Bustling to the Friedrichstrasse station, the half hour before departure had given me only time to telegraph my friends at the Russian capital of my leaving Berlin, and to secure a through billet via Eydtkuhnen to the new Paris on the banks of the Neva. However, a night in a luxurious first-class carriage was no hardship to an old campaigner. My preparations for the invasion of Russia were a good rug, a bunch of the least atrocious of various nicotian horrors on sale, some Tauchnitz reprints, and a few French romances as a sauce piquante to the rest. A capacious " Sinners' Friend " was filled and carefully tucked in the pocket of my warm Irish frieze ulster. It was mid-October, and in the moon light the thin, stormy fields looked starved, dug, and frozen out of all life. My immediate travelling com panions were two handsome, stalwart, white-handed, jewelled-fingered Russian officers, returning to their native land after visiting entrancing Paris, so be loved by the Russ on his vacation.

Making my semi-bivouac upon the wide, soft seat on my side of the compartment, I soon dropped into slumber, leaving my military neighbors dallying lazily with the twisting of the little paper-tubed cigarettes, chatting about " shop," the girls they left behind them, and commenting on national matters with the daring freedom Russians love to affect abroad — a luxury denied them at home under the iron rule of the " White Czar." As morning dawned, the old walls of Konigsberg (the crowning place of the Prussian kings) opened to us. Through fosse and ditch we threaded heavily armed outworks, winding slowly into the heart of the last principal city of warlike Prussia near the Muscovite border. After breakfast my military companions again betook themselves to the enjoyment of " baccarat," and the perpetual sacred fire of the papyrus.

From their conversation I discovered them to be Captain Gregory Shevitch and Lieutenant Alexis Michaelo vitch of the " cream of the service," the Russian Imperial Guard. In the characteristically good French of their nation they discussed current topics, as the varying card battle decided the ultimate disposition of any pocket money not permanently invested in Paris. Conning my book, comforted by a cigar, their conversation had great interest for an American ex army officer, visiting for the first time their roman tic land. My ears were open as I listlessly turned the wearying pages. They canvassed the recent appointment of a redoubtable ogre of official malig nity as chief of the Russian Secret Police. This gentleman, though of German not of Slavic descent, had powers unparalleled, even for a des potic land.

From his concealed eyrie at St. Pe tersburg this Machiavelli struck by invisible hand everywhere. His high rank, plenary authority, and grave functions gave him untrammelled access to the new czar ; all his lightning strokes were in that august name. " Gregory," said Alexis, " I am told that the Nihil ists are very active now, and working with energy to reopen their mail and telegraph communications, which Loris Melikoff cut off." " That's so," replied Gregory (as he gazed on his cards with the money-grabbing instinct of a cunning Slav), " those poor devils can't get over our frontiers without a close shave on Siberia for life, or— something worse. The new head of the police has the sagacity of a Bismarck and the cunning of a Vidocq." Gregory rolled his cigarette thoughtfully, and murmured: "They must make a desperate attempt to steal over in some queer way now.

It is necessary for them to reopen communication. They must establish a new code of signals, and another cipher, or stop their conspiracy forever. They have plenty of money and use some very smart agents." " True," rejoined the other as he passed the deal. " My uncle (the ambassador) tells me some of our telegraph corps are members of their order, and are invaluable to their schemes." " No matter how smart they are," replied Gregory, " the new chief of police is a little smarter. He will ultimately bag them all." " That is, if they don't assassinate him first," said Alexis, passing over to his victorious comrade a handful of crisp notes (with a muttered curse), luck being heavily against him. Gregory laughed, as he complacently counted and pocketed the roubles: "The Nihilists will hardly be luckier than you, old fellow !

You remember Princess Troubetskoi's pretty salon in Paris? " Alexis smiled and stroked his blond mustache lovingly, in memory of past conquests. MY OFFICIAL NVIFE, 11 I wondered if stolen kisses still lingered on the handsome warrior's lips. " Well," continued the captain, " many a fat pack age of blue bills of the Banque de France has passed to those jewelled white hands from the ' Haute Direc tion.' She furnishes transcripts of their perfected plans. I am even told that she has obtained such information as will result very shortly in the capture of — " Here he looked suspiciously at me, lowered his voice, and whispered a few words I could not hear to his companion. "By Saint Vladimir!" cried Alexis, "the woman the whole force have been trying to capture since the death of our dear old emperor?

If they catch her she will be a dainty morsel for the executioner. They say she is lovely as an angel ! " " Ah ! " rejoined Captain Gregory, with a longing look upon his Tartar face. " In that case I wouldn't mind being le maitre des epaules myself. The mili taires busied themselves with their preparations, as we were nearing the last frontier town. " Brutes ! " thought I, " I shall soon be rid of your detestable company, with its croaking refrain of intrigue and horror," and turned back to my novel, for I had no personal misgivings on entering Russia. I was the happy possessor of passports, carefully vised, " en regie" at the Russian Embassy at Paris. I also carried the warmest credentials to my rela tive by marriage, Constantine Weletsky, one of the councillors of the czar, once a court page of the late revered empress, now high in favor with the imperial family.

This, with other special letters of introduction, would open to me the " charmed circle " of St. Petersburg; for my daughter had married Weletsky 's only brother, Basile, a gallant young officer, who had led a battalion into the Grivitska crater at Plevna, and then had died far away in the Orient, leaving his girl widow with a little fatherless infant. My daughter had met and been married to this gentleman in Japan. It was in her interest, and to see her again, I was visiting Russia for the first time. I had left my wife in Paris. She dreaded the rigors of a semi-arctic winter, and awaited my report ere deciding to visit our child, who had only spent a few weeks with us in America, and then hastened to a new home and strange but kindly relatives on the death of her husband in the Russian service in Asia.

Clanging bells and shrieking whistles announced our arrival at Eydtkuhncn, the frontier of Holy Russia. Here the road changes to a six-foot gauge, so as to prevent any sudden invasion. This forces an inevitable delay in transferring from the standard gauge at the Russian frontier. Two hours and a half are allotted for the inspec tion of baggage and passports. At this town is drawn the line between the do mains of his august majesty of Germany, and those of his " loving " (?) imperial brother of Russia. Painted posts in the national colors, double-sided, impress silence, discretion, and political prudence on the passing traveller. This warning is heightened by the presence of armed soldiers pacing on parallel lines a few yards apart. In the differing uniforms of the above-named august personages, fierce warriors glare at each other jealously on their sentry beats, and face about with a catchy snap and wooden jerk suggestive of toy soldiers.

A splendid masonry international station and cus tom house, with a superb restaurant, on the Russian side of the frontier, greeted my hungry eyes. Madly did I sigh for the last, for Io ! hunger was upon me, and mightily did I crave food. Alas ! the line of divided empire was visibly marked by a grillage of hammered iron, which made my passport to " Russia " and " dinner" one and the same. Guards with sword and revolver belted on stood at the gates, ready to arrest the audacious who might try to run the gauntlet. A hundred hungry voyagers, we were penned in an ante-room and ordered to prepare our passports and luggage for inspection. All was grave command and stern discipline, and the necessary delay was so tedious my inner man reminded me forcibly of the neglected " Department of the Interior."

Waiting to cross the gulf which separated me from that blessed repast, I produced my papers and keys while eying the curious throng of travellers. We were all huddled together. Countesses in furs and velvets, pert French maids, substantial-looking burghers, "impossible" dudes, filthy Polish Jews with curls and greasy gabardines, money-changers, peasants, soldiers, and tourists made up a queer human melange. Haughty officers strode around, ogling the fairest of our lady passengersand ostentatiously clanking their trailing sabres. Pushed up for official examination, I showed my passport with the American eagle displayed. A bearded colonel, bespecked with crosses and medals, took it. He genially broke out: " Amerikansky — good ! " As he said this I did not regret the five dollars paid at the State Department for the paper.

The clerk had inserted upon it the name of my wife, in case she might travel with me, although she also had obtained an individual passport that she re tained with her in Paris. I was pointed toward the baggage inspector and passed. Already several suspected ones had been rejected for irregularity in their documents. They were holding an impromptu indignation meeting. As I folded up my precious " open sesame " to the blessed Russian restaurant, I was happy ; my impa tient appetite was about to be appeased. Suddenly I was aware of a sweet and womanly presence by my side. A rich, pleasantly modulated voice said in choicest English : " I beg your pardon. May I speak to you, sir ? " The lady addressing me was indeed very youno and very fair to the eyes of an old campaigner ; for, like most old war-horses, I am somewhat susceptible to beauty in women.

Dress and belongings be spoke the lady. As I gazed her manner showed me she was so innocent and inexperienced that her helplessness appealed to a man of the world like myself. Her liquid dark eyes were anxious, her pretty coral lips were trembling nervously ; these, with rippling brown hair, ornamented a delicate and lovely, though per haps proud face, making a rare picture. Her man ner was almost childish, but her figure seemed too developed for extreme youth. The swelling outlines of her exquisite form showed to perfection in a dark brown suit, betraying Redfern in its cut and Russia in its sable trimmings. Pretty hands nestled in a muff, beseeching eyes pleaded under the jaunty little turban, and dainty feet peeped in and out in high Polish boots. I lifted my hat to the unknown degante, smiling in my exceptional Sunday-school manner, and re marked : " Certainly, madame !

" " A fair countrywoman," thought I, yet the silken " shuba " on her graceful shoulders seemed to have a local luxury in its blue fox lining. " Give me your arm, pray. We will walk a little so as not to attract attention," whispered this fair bird of passage, with a light tremor in her voice. " I hope she will make it short, whatever be the burden of her song," I thought, for I heard the cheerful music of the knife and fork just across the Russian boundary and could see the swallow tailed waiters flying around ; the first " convives " having passed the sentinels at the gates of that epicurean paradise. " I am an American going to Russia," she began, " to join my husband, who has preceded me. He had one passport for us both ; now I unexpectedly find out that I cannot get over the frontier. I don't know what to do !

" As she said this the gentle pressure of her arm thrilled me; her voice had a musical undertone, " like the leafy brook singing away in June." " I am certainly very sorry," I murmured. " But how can I help you ? I know no one here. I am only an American traveller, without official position. I am a retired army officer going to meet friends in St. Petersburg." I brought this remark out with an air of innocence. I had passed " mes beaux jours," and knew these little affairs were often very delicate. " But I noticed you had no lady with you, and as you took your passport from the officer, I saw it read, ' AND wife.' " " Certainly ! " said I, perhaps a little impatiently, for the vigorous clatter of the knives and forks showed me that the meal I so ardently coveted was rapidly disappearing across the barrier over in Russia.

Balancing on her pretty toes, she clasped her hands on my arm ; looking up, she murmured, with a meaning pressure of my arm : " You will take me over the frontier as your wife ? " " Great Heavens ! " I exclaimed, " but my wife? " For Mrs. Lenox is at times inclined to be jealous. And all the while the hunger fiend gnawed within me like a rat in an empty raisin box. "I beg you ; I beseech you ! " she continued, her sweet voice ranging through its wonderful minor chords. " Don't leave me here. I must cross this frontier now. I am already regarded as your wife. Why, they did not even ask me for a passport." " My wife ! " This was a gasp of astonishment from me. " Certainly ; the chief inspector assumed I was your wife. You are my countryman. Take me to Wilna ! I will leave you there. My husband is in Wilna and will thank you there."

And she clung to me in childish anxiety. My head was confused, but my nerves were tin gling, my heart was beating high at her touch. Many a time had I stood in before for pretty women in my world wanderings. A howl from the Muscovite baggage smasher aroused me to action. Our luggage remained alone on the high zinc counter. Nearly all the other passengers had gone away. The colonel in charge was entering the " salle a manger." He gave a passing Parthian glance of admiration at the beautiful creature on my arm, and murmured : " La belle Americaine." "You must not leave a countrywoman in such an embarrassing position ! Why, they might even arrest me ! " This with an innocent little shudder. I threw my keys to the inspector, gazing at the beautiful pleader at my side in hesitation. Where was I drifting?

I stood dazed while the searcher hastily threw over my Spartan outfit. The perfumed breeze gently wafted odors of Mocha and good cheer through the guarded gates. " You'll have to excuse me ! " My voice sounded harsh and hollow. The bearded official cast his eye on the lady's extensive belongings. I must decide instantly ! " For Heaven's sake, don't leave me here helpless," she implored, a look of alarm in her beautiful eyes. As she spoke she quietly handed me her keys. I mechanically dropped them in the open paw of the hungry official. Then, repenting, I waved my hand in negation. " You would surely not permit such a contretemps to stop my journey when the kindness of mere silence will permit it ? " she tremblingly whispered, and her wonderful dark eyes plead sadly with me. " Facilis est descensus Averni."

I felt, I knew, I was backsliding ! I glanced around. If her husband and my wife would only walk in ! No such blessed juncture arrived. I caught the eye of the " only colonel " fixed, inquiringly, on my lovely burden. Did he suspect ? He must not ! I turned savagely to the custom house man and asked why he didn't get through that baggage quicker. All this time the great clock was ticking away a ghastly reminder of the passing moments. The inspector was tumbling over Beauty's treasures in the open trunks. The riches of her boxes transfixed the official. I looked with pitiable, inane enjoyment at the assortment of mysterious paraphernalia and woman gear in her luggage. Not being a Worth, a Pingat, or a Jenness — Miller, I can't go into details. I will candidly admit I was proud of the lady's outfit.

It was worthy of a duchess in the delicacy of its laces and embroideries, the richness of its silks, satins, and velvets, and elegance of its little slippers, bottines, and entrancing foot-gear. The very sight of these sent a strange thrill through my susceptible old military heart. I gazed at the lady whose loveliness these garments would adorn. She clung to me, a picture of innocence, beauty, and suspense. The examination was over ; trunks relocked and hurried away to the train. Mechanically I threw a rouble to the searcher, who flew off to his meal like a bird let loose in eastern skies. The clasp upon my arm grew tighter, and the perfume from her garments floated round me ; mechanically I turned my head ; her eyes, made more beautiful by anxiety, met mine. Her figure swayed and tottered and leaned against mine.

Good heavens ! she was about to faint. To give her courage, I whispered with an insane giggle : " What a lovely trousseau you have ! " We approached the grillage, the fair, graceful, beautiful stranger clinging closely to me, but seem ing to gain strength in her step. Unchallenged we passed the portals and stood together in " Holy Russia."

Chapter II

"WHAT WOULD DICK GAINES SAY TO THIS?" THE door of the grillage closed behind us with a crash, we being the last of the throng of passengers. As this sound came to my ears it seemed to me the little hand upon my arm quivered and grew cold, and the lady beside me started and trembled. Looking hurriedly at her, I saw her beautiful face was deathly pale, but even as I gazed she steadied herself by an effort, a smile played about her lips and eyes, and she whispered : " Keep my keys, please ; it will look more connubial." This with a little embarrassed moue that set my heart beating. "Of course, we must keep up the comedy, my dear," answered I. But at the familiarity of my address she almost drew away from me, and a big blush chased away the last trace of her pallor. The blush was catching, for the word " dear " set my mind upon my real dear one in Paris.

Anxious to drive such thoughts out of my mind, and hunger giving me the hint, I conducted the fair one on my arm into the restaurant. This was filled with passengers hurriedly disposing of their dinner, as if anxious to get once more en route. There were vacant seats at only one table — the one reserved for the use of the Russian colonel, who was in the act of seating himself. The head waiter whispered a few words to him, to which he replied with a smile. We were ushered to the private table of this dignitary, who did not seem loth to bask in the beauty of my dazzling com panion. The head steward, silver chain on neck, handed the menu and wine card to madame. She ordered with the easy freedom of a petted wife, and then astounded me again as she lisped : " What would you like — Arthur?" turning a red but piquant face upon her plate and napkin.

How did she know my Christian name? A moment's reflection suggested that perhaps she had seen it on my passport. Shortly after, the colonel, who was an accom plished master of languages, presented himself to us as Ivan Petroff, and while I attacked the Bur gundy, roast pheasant, and other dainties with the vigor the imprisoned demon in my stomach de manded, my protegee chatted gayly with the Russian officer, who explained to us that he was chief of the Wilna frontier division ; remarking that he was always happy to see Americans in Russia, for he knew that they would discover with their own eyes that " we Russians are not so bad as we are painted." This had hardly left his lips when an official stepped up to him and saluted. Then, begging us to excuse him for a moment, our colonel de parted.

As he did so I turned to the lady at my side and remarked : "You have called me Arthur. In order to keep up this petite come'die, tell me your Chris tian name, quick, before the Russian returns." " Certainly," she remarked ; " my first name is Helene." "And your second?" " Marie." " Helene Marie — beautiful ! " I remarked. " And your third?" " First tell me what is yours," she said. " I read your Christian name upon your passport, but your family name I did not catch." " Lenox," replied I — "Arthur Bainbridge Lenox." At this announcement she seemed to start ; but a moment after she said with an embarrassed smile : "Then my name must be Lenox. For the present my name must be that of your wife. A false move now would more than embarrass both of us," she went on, earnestly. " False pass " She cut the word short suddenly; Petroff was reseating himself beside her.

As he did so he remarked : " I was sorry to de sert my dinner, but more sorry to desert you, ma dame." This was emphasized by a telling glance from his dark Tartar eyes at the newly christened " Helene Marie Lenox." " But it was a matter of passports that had to be attended to at once," he continued. " We have just, I am happy to say, arrested a de'classe who was travelling under forged papers." "False passport — eh?" remarked my fair com panion. " Man or woman ? " " Man," was Petroff 's sententious reply " Yes ; if it had been a woman— a beautiful woman — we should not have had you back with us so soon," cried Helene, a suspicion of coquetry in her smile. " The most lovely criminal in Russia would not have kept me an instant longer, madame," returned the gallant colonel, admiration in his eye, flirtation in his manner.

Notwithstanding I was diligently occupied with my knife and fork, I caught this glance, and some thing of the feeling of a husband coming into me, I turned the conversation by saying carelessly : " I presume this false passport business is an every-day affair in Russia." " By no means," remarked Petroff ; " our penalties for the offence are too severe." "Ah! imprisonment as well as fine," said I, per haps a little nervously. " Yes, imprisonment for life — Siberia," whispered the colonel. " Only the most desperate criminals risk the use of false passports." My knife and fork fell on the plate with a crash. " Try some of this mayonnaise, Arthur," inter posed the putative Mrs. Lenox. " I see you have finished the pheasant, and this is delightful. Colo nel Petroff will have some also." And she gave the salad to the Russian officer with such a dressing of smiles and beauty that the admiring Russian, looking only at her, did not notice my loss of nerve power and appetite together ; for these remarks had set my mind moving and stopped my knife and fork.

" False passports — penalties — Siberia — only des perate criminals dare to use them," buzzed in my brain. A sudden resolution took possession of me. This dazzling woman was making me a Russian criminal by the false use of my passport. The boundary line of Germany was but fifty feet away. I would go across the boundary while there was yet time, and dodge the clutches of the Russian bear. Excusing myself to the Circe who had lured me into this false position, and who was very innocently but very charmingly chatting to the colonel over the salad, I rose from the table, strode out of the restaurant, and marched for the door of the grillage, now fortunately open. Germany was within two feet of me. I was pass ing hastily through, and in another second I would have been away from danger and punishment, when my passage was suddenly barred.