The Point of View Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  Next morning it fell about that Stella Rawson was allowed to go intothe Musso Nazionale in the Diocletian baths, accompanied only byMartha, her uncle and aunt having decided they would take a rest andwrite their English letters. The museum was so near, a mere hundredyards, there could be no impropriety in their niece's going there withMartha, even in an exhibition year in Rome.

  Stella was still suffering from a nameless sense of depression.Eustace's train would get in at about five o'clock, and he wouldaccompany them to the Embassy. A cousin of her own and Aunt Caroline'swas one of the secretaries, and had already been written to about theinvitation. So that even if Count Roumovski should be presented to her,and make the whole thing proper and correct, she would have no chanceof any conversation. The brilliant sunlight felt incongruous and hurther, and she was glad to enter the shady ancient baths. She had glancedfurtively to right and left in the hotel as she came through the hall,but saw no one who resembled the Russian, and they had walked soquickly through the vestibule she had not remarked a tall figure comingfrom the staircase, nor had seen him give some rapid order to arespectful servant who was waiting about, and who instantly followedthem: but if she had looked up as she paid for the two tickets at thebarrier of the museum, she would have seen this same lean man turnswiftly round and retreat in the direction of the hotel.

  Martha was sulky and comatose on this very warm morning; she took nointerest in sculpture. "Them naked creatures," she called anymasterpiece undraped--and she resented being dragged out by MissStella, who always had fancies for art.

  They walked round the cloisters first, a voyage of discovery to MissRawson, who looked a slim enough nymph herself in her lilac cambricfrock and demure gray hat shading her big brown eyes.

  Then suddenly, from across the garden in the center, she became awarethat an archaic Apollo clad in modern dress had entered upon the scene,and the blood rushed to her cheeks, and her heart beat.

  Martha puffed with the heat and exercise, and glanced with longing eyesat a comfortable stone bench in the shade.

  "Would you like to rest here, Martha, you old dear?" Miss Rawson said."There is not a creature about, and I will walk round and join you fromthe other side."

  The Aunt Caroline's elderly maid easily agreed to this. It was truethere did not seem to be anyone adventurous-looking, and Miss Stellawould be more or less under her eye--and she was thoroughly tired withtraveling and what not. So Stella found herself happily unchaperoned,except by Baedecker, as she strolled on.

  The Russian had disappeared from view, the bushes and vases in thecenter of the garden plot gave only occasional chances to see people ata distance.

  But when Stella had entered the Ludovici collection she perceived himto the right, gazing at the statue of the beautiful Mars.

  He turned instantly, as though some one told him she was near--and hiscalm eyes took in the fact that she was alone. The small room was emptybut for the two, and he addressed her as he removed his hat.

  "Good morning, mademoiselle," he said gravely. "Mars is a strongattraction. I knew I should presently find you here--so when I caughtsight of your spiritual outline across the garden, I came and--waited."

  "He is most splendid-looking, is he not," Stella returned, trying tosuppress the sudden tingle of pleasure that was thrilling her, "andlook how much character there is in his hands."

  "Shall we go and study the others, or shall we find a bench in thegarden and sit down and talk?" Count Roumovski asked serenely, and thensmiled to himself as he noticed his companion's apprehensive glance inthe direction where, far away, Martha dozed in peace.

  "It would be nice out of doors--but--" and Stella faltered.

  "Do not let us be deprived of pleasure by any buts--there is one outthere who will warn us when your maid wakes. See--" and he advancedtoward the entrance door, "there is a bench by that rose tree where wecan be comparatively alone."

  Stella struggled no more with herself. After all, it was her lastchance--Eustace Medlicott's train got in at five o'clock!

  She had a sense of security, too, the complete serenity of hercompanion inspired confidence. She almost felt she would not care ifAunt Caroline herself slept instead of the elderly maid.

  There was some slight change in Count Roumovski's manner to-day--hekept his eyes fixed upon her face, and the things he said were lessabstract and more personal. After an entrancing half hour she felt shehad seen vivid pictures of his land and his home. But he was a greattraveler it appeared, and had not been there often in later years.

  "It is so agreeable to let the body move from place to place, andremain in a peaceful aloofness of the spirit all the time," he said atlast. "To watch all the rushing currents which dominate human beingswhen they do not know how to manipulate them. If they did, themillennium would come,--but, meanwhile, it is reserved for the few whohave learned them to enjoy this present plane we are on."

  "You mean you can control events and shape your life as you please,then?" Stella asked surprised, while she raised her sweet shy eyes tohis inquiringly. "I wish I knew how!"

  "Shall I try to teach you, mademoiselle?" he said.

  "Yes, indeed."

  "Then you must not look down all the time, even though thecontemplation of your long eyelashes gives me a pleasure--I wouldprefer the eyes themselves--the eyes are the indication of what ispassing in the soul, and I would study this moving panorama."

  Stella's color deepened, but she met his blue orbs withoutflinching--so he went on:

  "I had the fortune to be born a Russian, which has given me time tostudy these things. My country does not require my work beyond my beinga faithful servant of my Emperor. Since I am not a soldier, I can do asI choose. But you in England are now in a seething caldron, and itwould be difficult, no doubt, for you to spend the hoursrequired--although the national temperament would lend itself to allthings calm if it were directed."

  "But for myself," Stella demanded, "I am not a man, and need notinterest myself in the nation's affairs--how can I grow to guide myown--as you seem to do?"

  "Never permit yourself to be ruffled by anything to commence with,"Count Roumovski began gravely, while the pupils of his eyes appeared togrow larger. "Whatever mood you are in, you connect yourself with thecosmic current of that mood--you become in touch, so to speak, with allthe other people who are under its dominion, and so it gains strengthbecause unity is strength. If you can understand that as a basicprinciple, you can see that it is only a question of controllingyourself and directing your moods with those currents whoseaugmentation can bring you good. You must never be negative and drift.You can be drawn in any adverse way if you do."

  "I think I understand," said Stella, greatly interested.

  "Then you must use your critical faculties and make selections of whatis best--and you must encourage common sense and distrust altruism.Sanity is the thing to aim at."

  "Yes."

  "The view of the world has become so distorted upon almost every pointwhich started in good, that nothing but a cultivation of our individualcritical faculties can enable us to see the truth--and nine-tenths ofcivilized humanity have no real opinion of their own at all--theysimply echo those of others."

  "I feel that is true," said Stella, thinking of her own case.

  "It is not because a thing is bad or good that it succeeds--merely howmuch strength we put into the desire for it," he went on.

  "But surely we must believe that good will win over evil," and thebrown eyes looked almost troubled, and his softened as he looked at her.

  "The very fact of believing that would make it come to pass by allthese psychic laws. Whatever we really believe we draw," he said almosttenderly.

  "Then, if I were to believe all the difficulties and uncertaintieswould be made straight and just go on calmly, I should be happy, shouldI?" she asked, and there was an unconscious pathos in her voice whichtouched him deeply.

  "Certainly," he answered. "You have not had a fair chance--probably
youhave never been allowed to do a single thing of your own accord--haveyou?"

  "N--no," said Stella.

  "In the beginning, were you engaged to this good clergyman of your ownwish?" and his eyes searched her face.

  She stiffened immediately, the training of years took offense, and sheanswered rather stiffly:

  "I do not think you have the right to ask me such a question, CountRoumovski."

  He was entirely unabashed--he stroked his pointed silky beard for amoment, then he said calmly:

  "Yes--I have, you agreed that I should teach you how to shape your lifeas you pleased, you must remember. It is rather essential that I shouldknow the truth of this matter before I can go further--you must seethat."

  "We can avoid the subject."

  "It would be Hamlet without Hamlet, then," he smiled. "One could drawup no scheme of rules and exercises, unless one has some idea of howfar the individual was responsible for the present state of things. Ifit was your wish in the beginning, or if you were coerced makes all thedifference."

  Stella was silent--only she nervously plucked an offending rose whichgrew upon a bush beside them: she pulled its petals off and kept hereyes lowered, and Sasha Roumovski smiled a wise smile.

  "You have unconsciously answered me," he said, "and your agitationproves that not only are you aware that you did not become engaged ofyour own wish, but that you are afraid to face the fact and admit thatits aspect appals you. You must remember, in your country, where, Iunderstand, divorce is not tres bien vu, especially among the clergy,the affair is for life, and the joy or the gall of it could beinfinite."

  She raised two beseeching eyes to his face at last.

  "Oh, do not let us talk about it," she pleaded. "It is so warm andpleasant here--I want to be happy."

  He looked at her for a while with penetrating eyes, then he said gently:

  "It is a man's province to take care of a woman," and his attractivevoice filled with a new cadence. "I see you are in need of direction.Leave all to me--and forget there is any one else in the world for themoment but our two selves. Did you know that I thought you lookedparticularly sweet last night, but rather pale?"

  "You never looked at me at all," said Stella before she was aware ofit, and then blushed crimson at the inference of her speech. He wouldbe able to understand perfectly that she must have been observing himall the time to be conscious of this.

  A gleam of gladness came into his eyes.

  "I would like to watch you always openly, if I might," he whispered."Your little face is like a flower in its delicate tints, and your eyesare true and tender and asking so many questions of life,--andsometimes they are veiled and misty, and then they look wise andcourageous. I am beginning to know all their changes."

  "Then, in that case, monotony will set in," Stella was almost arch--theday was so glorious!

  "I am not afraid of that," he said. "I always know what I want and whatis worth while. I do not value my three matchless pearls the lessbecause I know their every iridescence--on the contrary, I grow morefond of them and wear them every night in preference to any others."

  They were silent for a moment after this. He was examining her minutelywith his wise, calm eyes. He was noting the sensitive curve of thepretty full lips, the tender droop of the set of her head, the graciouscharm of her little regular features, and the intelligence of her broadbrow. With all her simplicity, she looked no fool or weakling. And tothink that the narrow code of those who surrounded her should forcethis sweet young creature into the gray walls of a prison house, whenshe became the English clergyman's wife; it was too revolting to him.Count Roumovski suddenly made up his mind, trained to instantaneousdecision by his bent of studies, and sure and decided in its action.And if Stella had looked up then she would have seen a keen gleam inthe peaceful blue of his eyes. He drew her on to talk of her home andher tastes--she loved many things he did, he found--and she was soeager to hear and to learn their meaning. He grew to feel a sort ofpride and the pleasure of a teacher when directing an extremelyintelligent child. There were no barriers of stupidity into whateverregions the subjects might wander. They spent an hour of pure joyinvestigating each other's thoughts. And both knew they were growingmore than friends.

  Then Stella rose suddenly to her feet. A clock struck twelve.

  "You said one must not be negative and drift," she announced demurely,"so I am being decided and must now go to Martha again."

  "Ivan has not warned us that she is thinking of stirring," CountRoumovski said. "I told him to, and he will let us know in plenty oftime; you surely do not breakfast until half-past twelve, do you?"

  "Ivan?--who is Ivan?" Stella asked.

  "He is a servant of mine who does what he is bid," her companionanswered. "To have peace to enjoy oneself one must calculate andarrange for events. Had we only trusted to the probability of yourmaid's sleeping, I should have had to be on the lookout, and myuneasiness would have communicated itself to you, and we should havehad no happy hour--but I made a certainty of safety--and unconsciouslyyou trusted me to know, and so we have been content."

  Stella was thrilled. So he had taken all this trouble. He must be agood deal interested in her, then; and feeling sure of this, womanlike,she immediately took advantage of it to insist upon leaving him.

  "Very well," he said, when he could not dissuade her. "To-night thewheel of fortune will revolve for us all, and it remains to be seen whowill draw a prize and who a blank."

  Then he walked by her side to where they saw the quiet servantstanding, a motionless sentinel, and here Count Roumovski bowed andturned on his heel, while Stella advanced to the bench on which thecomfortable Martha slept.

  This latter was full of defence when she awoke. She had not closed aneye, but thought Miss Stella was enjoying "them statues" better withouther, which was indeed true, if she had guessed!

  Miss Rawson ate very little luncheon--the Russian did not appear--andimmediately after it she was taken as a treat to see the BorgheseGardens by her uncle and aunt! It behooved her not to be tired by moresightseeing, since her betrothed would arrive when they returned fortea, and would expect her to be bright and on the alert to please him,Aunt Caroline felt. As for Stella, as that moment approached it seemedto her that the end of all joy had come.