M.Leminof was quietly seated in the embrasure of the window, looking at the rain and playing with his monkey.He no sooner perceived his secretary than he uttered an exclamation of joy, and after shutting up Solon in an adjoining room, he approached Gilbert, took both his hands in his and pressed them cordially, saying in an affectionate tone:
"Welcome, my dear Gilbert, I have been looking for you impatiently.
I have been thinking a great deal since yesterday on our famous problem of the Slavonic invasions, and I am far from being convinced by your arguments.Be on your guard, my dear sir! Be on your guard! I propose to give you some thrusts that will trouble you to parry."Gilbert, who had recovered his tranquillity, seated himself, and the discussion commenced.The point in dispute was the question of the degree of importance and influence of the establishment of the Slavonians in the Byzantine empire during the middle ages.Upon this question, much debated at present, Count Kostia had espoused the opinion most favorable to the ambitions of Muscovite policy.
He affected to renounce his country and to censure it without mercy; he had even denationalized himself to the extent of never speaking his mother tongue and of forbidding its use in his house.
In fact, the idiom of Voltaire was more familiar to him than that of Karamzin, and he had accustomed himself for a long time even to think in French.In spite of all this, and of whatever he might say, he remained Russian at heart: this is a quality which cannot be lost.
Twelve o'clock sounded while they were at the height of the discussion.
"If you agree, my dear Gilbert," said M.Leminof, "we will give ourselves a little relaxation.Indeed you're truly a terrible fellow; there's no persuading you.Let us breakfast in peace, if you please, like two good friends; afterwards we will renew the fight."The breakfast was invariably composed of toast au caviar and a small glass of Madeira wine; and every day at noon they suspended work for a few moments to partake of this little collation.
"Judge of my presumption," suddenly said M.Leminof, underscoring, so to speak, every word, "I passed LAST NIGHT [and he put a wide space between these two words] in pleading against you the cause of my Slavonians.My arguments seemed to me irresistible.I beat you all hollow.I am like those fencers who are admirable in the training school, but who make a very bad figure in the field.Ihad prodigious eloquence LAST NIGHT; I don't know what has become of it; it seems to have fled like a phantom at the first crowing of the cock."As he pronounced these words, Count Kostia fixed such piercing eyes on Gilbert, that they seemed to search through to the most remote recesses of his soul.Gilbert sustained the attack with perfect sangfroid.
"Ah! sir," replied he coolly, "I don't know how you argue at night;but I assure you by day you're the most formidable logician Iknow."
Gilbert's tranquil air dissipated the suspicion which seemed to weigh upon M.Leminof.
"You act," said he gayly, "like those conquerors who exert themselves to console the generals they have beaten, thereby enhancing their real glory; but bah! arms are fickle, and I shall have my revenge at an early day.""I venture to suggest that you do not delay it long," answered Gilbert in a grave tone."Who knows how much longer I may remain at Geierfels?"These words re-awakened the suspicions of the Count.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed he.
Whereupon Gilbert related in a firm, distinct tone the morning's adventure.As he advanced in the recital, he became warmer and repeated with an indignant air the remark which Fritz had attributed to the Count, and strongly emphasized his answer:
"Go and tell your master that he is not my master."He flattered himself that he would pique the Count; he saw him already raising his head, and speaking in the clouds.He was destined to be mistaken today in all his conjectures.From the first words of his eloquent recital, Count Kostia appeared to be relieved of a pre-occupation which had disturbed him.He had been prepared for something else, and was glad to find himself mistaken.
He listened to the rest with an undisturbed air, leaning back in his easy-chair with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.When Gilbert had finished--"And tell me, pray," said he, without changing his posture, "how did you punish this rascal?""I took him by the collar," replied Gilbert, "and flung him down head first.""Peste!" exclaimed the Count, raising himself and looking at him with an air of surprise and admiration."And tell me," resumed he, smiling in his enjoyment, "did this domestic animal perish in his fall?""He may perhaps have broken his arms or legs.I didn't take the trouble to inquire."M.Leminof rose and folded his arms on his breast.
"See now, how liable our judgments are to be led astray, and how full of sense that Russian proverb is which says: 'It takes more than one day to compass a man!' Yesterday you had such a sentimental pathetic air, when I permitted myself to administer a little correction to my serf, that I took you in all simplicity for a philanthropist.I retract it now.You are one of those tyrants who are only moved for the victims of another.Pure professional jealousy! But," continued he, "there is one thing which astonishes me still more, and that is, that you Gilbert, you could for an instant believe--"He checked himself, bent forward towards Gilbert, and looked at him scrutinizingly, making a shade of his two bony hands extended over his enormous eyebrows; then taking him by the arm, he led him to the embrasure of the window, and as if he had made a sudden change in his person which rendered him irrecognizable:
