Chapter XXXIV: A Myrtle Leaf

“What do you think, Signor?” asked the count, after a short pause. “Was it a dream, or did I really see the spirit of my grandfather?”

“It was his spirit,” answered his companion.

“What did his words mean, and why did he not finish them?”

“Would you like to know?”

“Of course.”

“Some one disturbed him.”

“But who?” asked Pavel, continuing to walk along the deserted river side.

“The apparition disappeared at my approach. I was just leaving at that time your banker, Sutherland. You did not notice me, but I saw you both, and I involuntarily startled the apparition of the great man.”

The count stopped; he was amused, and at the same time indignant at the impudence of the magician, and yet there remained something more to be learnt.

“You are joking,” said he. “How is it you were in Petersburg, and no one heard anything of it?”

“I had that pleasure--but for a very short time. I was received in a very unfriendly manner. As a foreigner, and one fond of knowledge, I had expected to obtain more attention. But the first minister offended me deeply; he invited me to leave the country. I withdrew my money from the bankers, and that very same night left Petersburg.”

“Fool, jackanapes!” thought the count, contemptuously smiling; “what inventions, what yarns he can spin.”

“Allow me to offer my apologies for the rudeness of our ministers,” said the count, with the most elaborate politeness, slightly touching his hat with his hand. “But can you explain to me the meaning of the words of the apparition?”

“It would be better not to seek to know the meaning of the apparition,” answered the stranger. “There are things … on which it is better to let the Fates be silent.…”

At that moment the sounds of a lute came floating from the great lagoon. Some one seated in a gondola was singing. Pavel eagerly listened; it was his favourite hymn. It brought back to his recollection the Manor of Pavlovski, the musical mornings at Nelidova’s, and her intercession for Rakitina.

“Very well,” said he; “let it be so; the future will reveal the truth. But I have another favour to ask of you.… A certain person, whom I wish from my whole heart to help at any cost, would very much like to know one thing.”

“I shall be most happy,” answered the stranger; “if I can be of any use to your Highness.”

“A certain person,” continued the count, “begged me to make inquiries here in Italy, in Spain, and in general, of seamen, if a certain naval officer is still living. He was on that ship which was totally shipwrecked, five years ago, and of which literally nothing has been heard.”

“A Russian ship?”

“Yes.”

“It was carried away, and dashed to pieces by the storm in the ocean, not far from Africa?”

“Yes.”

“The _Northern Eagle_?”

“Yes, but how came you to know?”

“It’s not in vain I’m called an Enchanter.”

“Speak! make haste, was he saved? is he still alive, this officer?” said the count, impatiently.

At that moment they were both standing on the water side. The silvery waves gently rippled up to the stone steps. In the distance, in the dim twilight, the outline of a ship with her sails furled was just discernible.

“To-morrow,” said the stranger, “I leave Venice on that schooner; but before sailing, or answering your question, I should like--excuse me--to know … whether the Count du Nord, on ascending the throne, will be more indulgent to me than the ministers of his august parent? Will he allow me then to visit that country again, whatever the tenor of my answer concerning that naval officer?”

The deep agitation which Pavel had experienced, on relating his adventure with the apparition, had already subsided, and he was regaining his self-composure. The question of the man aroused his indignation.

“Impudent, audacious impostor,” thought he, in a fit of suspicious anger. “What insolence! and what a turn he has given to the conversation. Street acrobat! charlatan!…”

Pavel could scarcely contain himself, and crushed his glove in his hand.

“According to your own words it is rather difficult to answer for the future,” said he thoughtfully, after a short pause. “Nevertheless, I am convinced, that on a second journey to Russia, you will meet with a reception more polite and more befitting a foreigner.”

His interlocutor bowed profoundly.

“So you wish to know the fate of that naval officer?” he said.

“Yes,” answered Pavel, prepared, however, to hear some tomfoolery, some imposture.

“Send that certain person awaiting your news a myrtle leaf.”

“How? what did you say? Say it again,” cried out Pavel. “Myrtle! myrtle? then he is lost.…”

“He was saved on a fragment of the ship near the island of Teneriffe, and for some time remained with the poor monks of the coast.”

“And now? oh! speak, I implore you.”

“A year after he was killed by pirates, who pillaged the monastery where he was living.”

“How did you learn all this?”

“At that time I was myself living on the isle of Teneriffe,” he answered. “I was copying an old Latin manuscript, which was very precious to me, from the archives of the monastery.”

“But what does all this mean? Is he only a juggler, or an all-powerful seer?” thought Pavel, torn with doubts. “A clever diviner, or a bold charlatan, but from where?… All my most secret … coast of Africa … the name of the lost ship … and then that token, the fatal myrtle. Is it possible Ekaterina Ivanovna should have betrayed me? But he never saw her; she is ill, has never been once out of her room, received no visits, and has been nowhere.…”

Pavel wanted to say something else, but could find no words.

Beyond the schooner the dawn was breaking.

“I will accompany your Highness to the palace,” said the stranger with elaborate politeness and a cringing bow; “have I your permission?”

Pavel slightly glanced at the tawdry cotton-velvet bespangled costume of the wizard, looking so shabby in the morning light, and taking off his mask, without saying one word more, strode gloomily and proudly along the deserted shore.

“Poor sorrowing Penelope! unfortunate lovely Irena!” thought he. “No one has been able to solve that anguishful enigma--neither ministers, nor knights, nor ambassadors; let us send her the myrtle leaf of the Italian wizard and juggler.”