Then unfolding the letter, he
read. Behind him stood Cecil, involuntarily trembling with anxious
expectation.
The letter fell from the count's hands, and a deadly paleness spread
over his face, which bore the expression of utter despair.
"Oh, my prophetic soul!" he sighed.
"Your presentiment is then fulfilled!" anxiously asked Cecil.
"Yes, it is fulfilled! My property is sequestrated; they refuse to send
me the money I required; they command my immediate return to Russia, as
my _conge_ has expired and my respite is at an end!"
"And you are lost, my lord, if you do not obey this command!" said
Cecil.
"And Natalie?" reproachfully asked the count. "Can I, dare I leave her?"
"She is much safer without than with you! They may not yet suspect who
she is! It is very possible that it in reality only is because your
leave of absence has expired, as the laws of Russia require that every
absentee should return to his country once in every four years. Fulfil,
therefore, this hard duty. Pretend to suppose that your recall is for
no other reason than the renewal of your passport, and the giving you
an opportunity to pay your homage to the empress. Appear innocent and
unconcerned, and all may yet go well!"
"No," gloomily replied the count, "nothing will go well any more! The
whole future stands before me in clear and distinct traits--a future
full of shame and horror! Oh, would it not be better to flee from that
future and seek in some remote and hidden valley a place where, perhaps,
misfortune cannot reach, nor destruction overtake us!"
"How?" reproachfully asked Cecil.
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