III
1419 Words
IIIThe Borgensky Ball was to be one of the most brilliant functions of the season. Everybody had said so, for weeks past, ever since it had become generally known that his Imperial Majesty, the Tsar, meant to honor Olga Borgensky by being her guest for that evening. Everything the fair Russian did, she did well. The giving of entertainments she had studied and cultivated till she had brought it to the level of high art. She had been the Queen of Vienna society for some years now, ever since she had married Eugen Bongensky, the friend and confidant of his Eminence the Cardinal Primate of Hungary. All the doors of the most exclusive Vienna cliques had been widely thrown open for her, and tout le monde flocked to her soirées.
It was ten o'clock, and Madame Borgensky, exquisitely dressed and covered with diamonds, was ready to receive her guests, with the calm and grace that characterizes the "grande dame." A very careful observer, such as her husband probably, might, perhaps, notice that her hand shook slightly as she held it out to each fresh arrival, that her cheeks were unusually pale, and her lips quivered from time to time; also, that whenever she looked away from the door that gave access to her guests, it was to glance at the fine Italian marble mantelpiece at the furthest end of the ballroom, where a magnificent pale pink Sèvres vase of beautiful proportions and graceful lines stood in the centre among a multitude of other equally beautiful knick-knacks and silver trinkets of all kinds.
"Ah, M. l'Abbé, I am charmed to see you," said Madame Borgensky, as the Abbé Rouget, his breviary between his fingers, his fat face beaming with promises of enjoyment, arrived at the top of the stairs and greeted his hostess. "You will find Eugen in the cardroom, I think. I really have not seen him since I took up my post at the top of the stairs, but he was asking me whether we should have the pleasure of seeing you to-night."
"Ah, Madame! Eugen Borgensky is too kind. The archbishop, as you know, has allowed me innocent recreation from time to time-with the exception of dancing," he added with a half-regretful little sigh.
"Besides which, M. l'Abbé, you know you can always have half-an-hour's peace in the smoking-room during which to tell your beads," said Madame Bongensky a little sarcastically, remembering in what an agonizing plight the holy man had placed her the evening before by his persistent devotions.
"I find when I have the pleasure of coming to this house, Madame, that I can always have the billiard-room to myself for a quiet meditation some time during the evening. It is necessary for the soul not to entirely lose sight of spiritual things in the brilliancy and gaiety of a mundane function. But I must not monopolize your kind attention so long," said the jovial Abbé, as he bowed to his hostess and began working his way through the now rapidly filling ballrooms.
Madame Borgensky looked anxiously after him, a puzzled expression on her face. Was it mere coincidence that the Abbé had in the buttonhole of his soutane a red carnation, exactly similar to the one worn by Prince Leminoff and three or four other young men she had noticed in the course of the evening, and the meaning of which was now clear to her? Surely he would not risk such a pleasant, assured position as he possessed for the sake of the destinies of a country that was not even his own.
Madame Borgensky caught herself now scanning the young men's buttonholes very curiously; there were at most only about ten or twelve of them that wore the red flower; the Abbé was certainly one, Prince Leminoff—foolish youth!—another, and . . . Ah! no! no! it is impossible, her eyes are deceiving her, her overwrought imagination is playing her own sight a cruel trick. She closed her eyes once or twice to chase away the fearful vision, but it would not go. It was true then? There, standing with his back to the pink Sèvres vase, a red carnation in his buttonhole, was Eugen Borgensky, her husband!
Ah! how could she have guessed? How could she know what a terrible deed she had done? She, Olga Borgensky, a happy, loving, and loved wife, had actually spied upon and betrayed her own husband into the hands of a police that knows of no pardon. But, no; all was not lost yet, thank God! she had so far told Count Gulohoff nothing. She had devised a means of communicating with him, that she had felt would be a safe one, in case she found no chance of speaking to him privately, and now it would prove her salvation.
Feverishly she turned to go into the ballroom, heedless if any one should notice her. What matter what people thought of her actions, as long as the terrible catastrophe is averted in time——
"His Imperial Majesty, the Tsar, "thundered the voice of the usher. All conversations ceased, and all necks were stretched forward to catch a glimpse of Alexander III., as he ascended the stairs, chatting pleasantly to Count Gulohoff.
Madame Borgensky, forced to pause, felt as if the whole room, the Tsar, her guests, were all changed into weird spectres that seemed to dance a wild fantastic dance around her; one moment she thought her senses would leave her . . .the next instant she had bowed after the approved Court fashion, and was thanking Alexander III. for the honor he was doing her, while his Majesty, with his usual affability, was conversing pleasantly with her and Eugen Borgensky. She had lost sight of Count Gulohoff, who, exchanging handshakes, nods, and smiles, worked his way through the ballroom towards the mantelpiece, where the gay little Abbé was being monopolized by a group of pious mondaines, and seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly.
"Ah, your Excellency is just in time," said his Reverence, "to settle a most knotty point. We are having, mesdames and I, a very animated discussion on pottery and china, namely, the superiority (which I call very exaggerated) of antique over modern manufacture, and I was contending that many a connoisseur is not guided, when buying a piece of china, by the actual quality of the ware, but merely by the mark upon it."
"Ah! M. l'Abbé is terribly sceptical of feminine knowledge," said the Countess Zichy, " but I am sure that in this instance he wrongs us grievously. I, myself (and I have no pretensions at being much of a connoisseur), need never look at the mark of a piece of china; I can always locate its origin, sometimes even its date. Does your Excellency doubt me?" she added, turning to Count Gulohoff, who had assumed a somewhat incredulous attitude.
"I would not do so for worlds," said the courtly Russian, "but I confess that I would feel very interested to test your knowledge, Comtesse; this room, for instance, is full of bibelots. Olga Borgensky has some rare and beautiful pieces; shall we experiment now, to commence with, on this exquisite pink vase?" And Count Gulohoff, inwardly thankful at the turn the conversation had taken, stretched out his hand towards the vase, from the inside of which he had already noticed protruding the corner of an envelope.
"Allow me, your Excellency," said the Abbé, "to lift the vase up for you."
"No! no! I have it quite safely," said Count Gulohoff, who, hearing the faint, crisp rustle of paper inside the vase, was tilting it towards him, in the hope that he could obtain the letter unperceived.
At that moment the Abbé, who was short and somewhat round, apparently in trying to reach the vase must have lost his footing, for he fell forward, and, in steadying himself, jerked the arm of Count Gulohoff so violently that the latter lost the grip he had on the vase, which fell crashing to the floor.
There was general consternation among the little group of male and female connoisseurs who had gathered round to see the end of the debate: the poor little Abbé especially seemed terribly distressed, trying to pick up the pieces, and wondering whether the valuable vase could by any possibility be repaired. Count Gulohoff was for one moment terribly disconcerted, when, in the crash, he lost sight of the letter; his mind was, however, soon set at rest, for he quickly noticed it lying on the floor, close to the priest's soutane, and he was able to pick it up unperceived.
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