At first the young girl hoped that Pierre would ask her to go with him in the drosky, which would hold but two persons; but he put her in the landau, where the nurse and baby already were, and after speaking a few commonplace words in the way of excuses for putting her to so much fatigue, he sprung into the lighter carriage beside Yvan.

The luggage was to follow in an omnibus, with the servants who had come to meet their master.

This fresh disappointment for Vera had scarcely been mastered when, after a three hours' drive, she caught sight of the heavy-looking front of Pampeln, and soon the wheels of the landau were grinding through the sand of the court-yard and stopping before the flight of steps leading down from the main entrance.

Quite given up to her gloomy thoughts, the farmer's daughter stepped from the carriage. She was surprised to find her hand in that of the prince, who, drawing her a little way aside at the foot of the marble staircase, said in a troubled voice:

"Pardon me, dear child, for the silence I have kept since we left Paris, but I have determined that there ought to be no explanation between us until after I have seen your father. I have sent word to him to expect me at Elva, where I am going to seek him. In a couple of hours I shall be here again. Until then trust me. Soon, I hope, you will have ceased to be displeased with me, and will doubt no more either my grat.i.tude or my affection."

Vera replied only with a look from her great limpid eyes raised to his.

Pierre Olsdorf pressed both her hands in his, and sprung into the drosky, to which fresh horses had been harnessed.

The young girl followed him with her eyes until he disappeared from sight at the end of the great avenue; then she slowly mounted the stairs, and pa.s.sing through the fencing-room, gained the chapel, where she knelt in devotion on the stone floor, murmuring:

"If my father rejects me, what shall I do? Oh, G.o.d! have pity on me!"

Vera was still in prayers as the lord of Pampeln reached Elva.

"Is my daughter ill, prince?" exclaimed Soublaieff, meeting his master at the outer fence of the farm.

"No; do not be uneasy, Alexei; Vera is well," replied Pierre Olsdorf, alighting; "but her presence was needed at the chateau. That is the only reason why she has not come with me. To-night, even, you can embrace her; and to-morrow, if you wish it, she shall come back to you. I have much to say to you."

Struck by the grave look on the prince's face, as well as by the sad tones of his voice, the farmer followed him without daring to question him anew.

In the large lower room of the farm-house, wherein on hunting days he was wont to a.s.semble his friends, the master of Pampeln seated himself, and signed to Soublaieff to take a place opposite to him after closing the doors.

His heart filled with sad forebodings, the former serf obeyed.

"Alexei," said Prince Olsdorf, after a few moments' silence, "you must listen without interrupting me, and without being troubled unreasonably at the tale of the scenes that have pa.s.sed in Paris in which your daughter has played an important part, and which I will relate to you, hiding nothing. I should say, first of all, that Vera returns to you as worthy of your respect and of the affection of all as she was before she left you. I give you my word of honor on that."

"I believe you, prince; I believe you," replied Soublaieff, in a low voice.

"You know," said the former husband of Lise Barineff, "that the Holy Synod has p.r.o.nounced a divorce against me on the pet.i.tion of the woman who bore my name."

"Against you?"

"Yes, against me. Ah! that surprises you? Even here, then, my misfortune was known. Well, well! Yes, against me. I wished that it should be so, though all the wrong was on the side of the princess; but if it had been otherwise, that is, if the divorce had been p.r.o.nounced in my favor, she would have been dishonored, and her dishonor would have been reflected upon me and upon my son, Alexander. I would not permit that. The name of Olsdorf must remain stainless. To gain my end I had to affect a sin that left me without defense. Your daughter was my accomplice."

"My daughter!" cried Soublaieff, springing to his feet.

"I prayed that you would listen to me calmly. I swear to you again, on the honor of my race, that Vera is still the spotless maiden that you trusted to me."

Alexei sunk back into his chair again, his eyes filling with tears.

Pierre Olsdorf went on:

"Without understanding the part she was playing, your daughter obeyed me with such devotion and simplicity that the official appointed to gather proofs of the act of adultery I was guilty of was deceived, as was the princess herself, who accompanied him, as the law requires. Thanks to Vera, I succeeded completely. I made no attempt to defend myself, and your daughter was not questioned at all. The divorce was p.r.o.nounced against me, but I was left with the guardianship of my children: I say of my children, for the princess had been delivered of a daughter, whom I could not disown without accusing of adultery the woman whom I wished to leave worthy, in the eyes of the world, of respect; and Lise Olsdorf, by my order, will become the wife of the man with whom she deceived me.

The child who bears my name necessarily I have brought back with me, and have given her to the care of Vera. That is why your daughter is at Pampeln; terrified as she is at the thought that, wrongly informed of what has happened far from here, you may believe her guilty, and take from her your love."

"My darling Vera," cried Soublaieff. "Oh! let her come now, at once, to Elva. I will never let her know what I have suffered by her absence and at your story. I knew nothing of what you have just told me, and I believe you as I would an angel from heaven. But if I, her father, do not doubt her purity, will others, knowing all that has happened in that accursed Paris, believe that Vera Soublaieff has been a virtuous girl throughout? What will become of her? What man who has a care for his honor would take her now for his wife? Ah! Pierre Alexandrowich, though you respected her innocence, you have ruined my daughter none the less."

Pierre Olsdorf's head was lowered. He understood the sorrow of the father whose daughter's name was forever compromised.

"Yes," he replied, however; "yes, Alexei, I am deeply guilty, I confess.

But do not fear. No one will dare to suspect Vera when I swear, on the Holy Evangelists, that she is pure. And I will make her so rich that she will find a husband worthy of her."

The prince said these words with so great an effort, and so pained a smile, that Soublaieff trembled. His mind at rest on the fate of his daughter, he saw now only the sufferings of the master who had humiliated himself before him. He was far from imagining that Pierre Olsdorf was in love with Vera, still less did he suppose that she loved him. Such an idea could never have entered his mind. He thought only of the misfortune that had fallen upon the house of Olsdorf, so widely respected. The sin committed by the princess, whom everybody at Pampeln loved, was inexplicable to him, and he pitied, to the bottom of his heart, this great n.o.bleman so shamefully betrayed by the woman he had raised to his side. It seemed, as if, in a sense, he felt the shame of it, as an old dependent of the family. His emotion was so great that he did not even think of thanking the prince for his promise to secure Vera's future.

Pierre Olsdorf was the first to speak again.

"Now," he said, "I need to make one more appeal to the devotion of your daughter. After a short journey to St. Petersburg I shall leave Russia--Europe indeed--for a long time. Where shall I go? I do not know--but far, far from here. Alexander and this little girl must have a sister near them, since they have no mother, and the law forbids me to replace the woman who has proved herself unworthy. I wish to ask Vera to be in the stead an elder sister to these two little deserted ones. She will need then to live at the chateau, where I shall give orders that she shall be obeyed as I myself. Before I go I will make provision for the future of all of them, in case that anything should happen to me."

"Why leave us, prince?" said Soublaieff, "why go from us?"

"I must, Alexei. Time alone can close the wound I have received. Later on, who knows but that I may forget? Can I count on you and on Vera?"

"My devotion to you, Pierre Alexandrowich, is as deep as my daughter's; and you know what proof she has given of hers. What you order will be done."

"Then all is well. Come with me to the chateau to embrace your daughter.

To-morrow I will give you my instructions, for I must go away by nightfall. Your hand, Soublaieff. Thank you."

The farmer took respectfully the hand that Pierre Olsdorf offered him and pressed it to his lips. Five minutes afterward they had mounted the drosky to drive to Pampeln.

In less than half an hour they were there. Soublaieff, who had followed his master into the fencing-room, saw Vera coming out of the chapel.

Seeing her father, whom she did not expect, the young girl stopped suddenly, stifling a cry of fear, but when he came forward to her, smiling, and with opened arms, she sprung to his breast, crying:

"Father, dear, dear father."

"Vera, my darling Vera," said Alexei again and again, covering her forehead with kisses, "the prince has told me all. I have no reproaches for you. G.o.d will reward your devotion. We will part no more. You shall be as happy as you deserve to be."

At these words Soublaieff's daughter turned her eyes to the prince, who stood by during this scene, and she was so struck by the look of pain on his face that drawing herself from her father's arms she ran to him.

But Pierre Olsdorf, alarmed at Vera's movement, gave her no time to speak.

"Calm yourself, dear child," he said, quickly, as much by his look as his voice, as he took her hands in his, "your father knows the great service you have done me, and I have told him how much I count on you for still. You shall know to-morrow what I speak of. Meanwhile, be at home here in the chateau, where you will live henceforward; your father has given his consent. I leave you with him. To-morrow I shall see you again."

Not waiting until she could answer, he walked rapidly away, after pressing her hands affectionately in his.

"Poor prince," said Soublaieff going to his daughter, "how unhappy he is. Who would have guessed what was going to happen? And now he means to leave Pampeln, which is so full of sad memories for him."

"Leave Pampeln," cried Vera, not able to command herself, "leave us?

Where will he go to?"

"I don't know, but very far away, so he has told me. What is the matter with you?"

The unhappy girl had grown ghastly pale. She could scarcely stand.

"Nothing, nothing," she said, making a great effort not to betray herself further. "It is the fatigue of the journey, no doubt. Let me go to bed now, father. I shall see you to-morrow, shall I not?"