The Shadow of the Czar

Paul Cressingham, captain in Her Britannic Majesty's army, had seen some active service, and was therefore not unused to sleeping on the ground at night wrapt in his military cloak. Nevertheless he had a civilian weakness, if not for luxury, at least for comfort, and much preferred a four-poster, whenever the same was procurable.

At the time, however, when this story opens it seemed likely that if he slept at all, his slumbers would have to be à la belle étoile, for he found himself late at night wandering in a deep pine-forest of Dalmatia.

Paul's regiment-the Twenty-fourth Kentish-had its headquarters at Corfu; for his were the days when the United States of the Ionian Isles formed a dependency of the British Crown. His uncle, Colonel Graysteel, was commander-in-chief of the forces stationed there,-a fact which stood Paul in good, or possibly in bad, stead, for thereby he was enabled to obtain more relaxation than is consonant with the traditions of the War Office, his furloughs being extremely numerous, and spent chiefly in exploring odd corners of the Adriatic.

Colonel Graysteel growled occasionally at his nephew's negligences. Having no children of his own, he had adopted Paul as his heir. On parade there was no finer figure than Paul's,-tall, athletic, soldierly. With hair of a golden shade and having a tendency to curl, with soft hazel eyes that could look stern, however, at times, and with graceful drooping moustache, he was first favorite with the ladies of the English colony at Corfu, especially as his elegance in waltzing was the despair of all his brother-officers. He was an excellent shot, a deadly swordsman, a dashing rider, a youth of spirit and bravery. To one of this character much must be forgiven, and the old colonel forgave accordingly.

Nevertheless when Paul one fine morning walked into his uncle's villa at breakfast-time and requested furlough for no other reason than a wish to explore the wilds of Dalmatia, there was a slight outbreak of wrath on the part of the commander-in-chief.

"Another leave of absence? I don't believe you've put in three months' service this year."

"Four months, five days," corrected the other amiably.

"The Commissioner's beginning to notice your vagaries."

"Hang the Commissioner," replied the young man, irreverently. "Let him give me something worthy of doing, and I'll do it. Get up a war, say against Austria or Turkey, the latter preferred; show me the enemy and you'll find me to the fore. But this playing at soldiers; this marching and counter-marching; this inspection of kit, and attendance at parade,-I'm growing wearied of it. I'm rusting here,-I, whose motto is 'Action.' Am I to remain for ever in these cursed malarial isles, a mere drilling machine?"

"The drillings pay when comes the day," retorted the colonel, so surprised at this betrayal into rhyme that he repeated it. "And what's this new craze of yours for Dalmatia? Wild outlandish place! Nobody ever goes there."

"Precisely my reason for visiting it," returned Paul, lunging with his sabre-point at a mosquito that had just settled on a panel of the wall. "Why go where everybody goes? My tastes run in the direction of the odd, the romantic, the wild, the-anything that's opposed to the common round of existence. I fancy I shall find it in Dalmatia."

"You'll find yourself in the hands of banditti. That's where you'll be. The mountains swarm with them. And I'm damned if I'll pay your ransom," cried the colonel with returning wrath, as he recalled the liberality and frequency with which Paul drew upon his purse. "Remember the case of young Lennox, and the severed ear sent to his father in an envelope. Ten thousand florins! That's what the old chap had to pay to get his son out of the clutches of the infernal scoundrels, and never a thaler has he been able to recover from the Austrian Government. And now you would run yourself and me into a similar noose!"

"Banditti won't fix my ransom at so high a rate. Besides," added Paul, critically contemplating the Damascene inlaying of his sabre, "they've first got to take me."

"Well, if they'll fix it at what you're worth," said his uncle, grimly, "I shall not object to the payment."

Ultimately Paul obtained the desired furlough by resorting to his usual threat; he would sell his commission, buy a string of camels, and spend the rest of his life in trying to discover the sources of the Nile.

Thus it came to pass that a few days after this interview young Captain Cressingham embarked on board the Austrian Lloyd's steamer Metternich, bound for Zara, the clean, well-built capital of Dalmatia, directing his voyage to this city in order to renew old memories with some former college-chums, who were about to pass their summer holiday in its neighborhood.

Finding that he had anticipated the arrival of his friends by a few days, Paul resolved to spend the interval in taking a pedestrian tour southward as far as Sebenico: and accordingly he set off, without either companion or servant, and wearing his uniform, partly because as a soldier he was proud of it, partly because experience had taught him that in these eastern regions a uniform inspires respect in the minds of innkeepers, if not in those of banditti.

He passed the first night of this journey at a wayside hostelry.

At sunrise he resumed his course, walking amid picturesque scenery-on the right the sparkling sea, on the left glorious pine-clad mountains.

Late in the afternoon Paul, who had followed the post-road, reached a point where it entered a magnificent forest. As this wild-wood was just the sort of place where banditti might be expected to lurk, Paul's first impulse was to turn aside, and to take the more circuitous way along the sea-beach.

"You fear!" a secret voice seemed to whisper: and the reproach decided his route. Not even in his own eyes would he be a coward.

This choice of a road was but a small matter, one might think; yet it was to form the turning-point of his life.

He walked forward at a quick pace, and, with an eye to a challenge from some outlaw of the forest, he kept his hand constantly upon the butt of his revolver.

He did not meet with a bandit, however, but with a bear-the first he had ever seen in a wild, free state.

The creature came shambling from the wood on one side of the road a few yards in front of him, and there it stood, with its eyes fixed upon the wayfarer, as if questioning the right of man to invade these solitudes.

"An adventure at last!" murmured Paul, tingling with excitement. "Ursus Styriacus from his size. Now to emulate Hereward the Wake."

As previously stated Paul was an excellent shot, and inasmuch as his revolver was six-chambered he had little fear as to the result of the encounter.

The killing of a bear is the easiest thing in the world, at least according to the theory set forth by a hunter whom Paul had met the previous evening at the hostelry.

"If you fire at Bruin while he is on all-fours, you waste powder and shot, for his tough shaggy sides are almost impervious to bullets. You must face him at close quarters, and when he rises on his hind legs to welcome you with that hug which is his characteristic, then is the time to aim at the vital parts. If the shots fail to take effect, and you find yourself in his embrace, you simply draw your knife, give the necessary stab, and the thing is done."

The plan seems beautifully simple.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Paul did not have the opportunity of reducing the theory to practice; for, as he slowly advanced, revolver in hand, and with his eye alert to every movement of the bear, the latter ambled off again into the wood.

Resolving to give chase, Paul turned aside from the road. He would shoot that bear, bring back some fellows from the inn to flay the animal, and present the skin to his uncle.

But Colonel Graysteel was not destined to decorate his smoking-room with a trophy of his nephew's valor, for though Paul followed hard upon his quarry, its rate of progress surpassed his own. In a few moments it had passed from view, and all the shouting and random firing on the part of Paul failed to provoke the return of the animal.

"Talk no more to me of the spirit of bears," he muttered, as he put up his weapon.

Paul turned to resume his journey in some vexation of spirit-a feeling which did not diminish as he began to realize that he had lost his bearings. All around him rose the lofty pines, obscuring his view of the road from which he had been diverted by the chase of the bear. There was nothing to indicate the way. He carried an ordnance-map of the district, and the forest was marked large upon it, but he was unable to tell what particular point of the map corresponded with his own position at that moment. Moreover, he was without a compass; and, to add to his difficulty, the sun had set.

Seek as he would he could not find the road. Now and again he shouted at the top of his voice, even at the risk of attracting the notice of persons less friendly than charcoal-burners or wood-cutters, but his cries met with no response. The silence and solitude of the leafy vistas around were more suggestive of the primeval back-woods of the New World than of an European forest.

For several hours he walked, or rather stumbled along, in the darkness, wandering this way or that, as blind fancy directed, and haunted by the reflection that Bruin might return with one of his confrères, eager to dine off a too venturesome tourist.

He had given himself up as hopelessly lost, when he came to a spot where the foliage above his head suddenly lifted, revealing a sky of the darkest blue set with glittering stars. This sky extending in a broad band far to the left and far to the right proclaimed the welcome fact that he had hit upon the road again.

He looked at his watch, and found that it was close upon midnight. That infernal Bruin had delayed his journey by six hours.

Even now he had no idea which way to turn for Sebenico, till his eyes, roaming over as much of the sky as was contained within his circle of vision, caught the sign of Ursa Major.

"Poetic justice!" he smiled. "Misled by the earthly bear, guided by the heavenly." Knowing that Sebenico lay to the south, he accordingly set his face in that direction with intent, on reaching the first milestone, to ascertain from his ordnance-map the position of the nearest village or inn.

He stepped forward briskly, and keeping a sharp lookout soon came upon a milestone glimmering white upon one side of the road. Kneeling down he struck a match-like the revolver, a recent invention in 1845-and by the faint glow learned that he was thirty miles from Zara.

Taking out his map, together with the "Tourist's Manual for Dalmatia," he proceeded to make a study of both by the brief and unsatisfactory illuminations afforded by a succession of lucifers.

"After to-night," he muttered, "I shall always carry a small lantern with me; likewise a compass."

Now while Paul was kneeling there, intent upon book and map, he received the greatest surprise of his life.

"Which way does Zara lie?"

The question was spoken in Italian-the common language of Dalmatia-by a voice so soft and musical that the like had never been heard by Paul.

When he had risen to his feet he stood mute with astonishment, a passage from "Christabel" floating through his mind,-

"I guess 't was frightful there to see

A lady so richly clad as she-

Beautiful exceedingly!"

For, in truth, it was a lady that Paul saw standing before him at midnight hour beneath the light of the stars in the depth of the Dalmatian forest; and, like the lady of the poem, she was both richly dressed and marvellously beautiful-lovely as the soft beauty of a southern night; with raven hair, and dusky eyes that seemed the mirrors of a sweet melancholy. She wore a long Dalmatian capote with the hood drawn over her head. The capote being partly open revealed a costume of the richest silk. Decorated with curious gold brocade, and with a wealth of chain-work and gems, this dress, though it might have been pronounced bizarre by the more sober taste of Western ladies, harmonized in Paul's judgment with the wild oriental beauty of the wearer.

"Pardon me if I have startled you. Which way does Zara lie?"

And the astounded Paul, usually full of assurance in the presence of women, could do nothing on the present occasion but simply stammer forth, while pointing to the north,-

"That is the road to Zara."

"I thank you, signor."

With a stately inclination of her head she drew her capote more closely around her, and walked away in the direction indicated by Paul as quietly and confidently as if the lonely forest-road were the Boulevard des Italiens, and the distant Zara a pretty toy-shop a few yards ahead!

Different people, different customs. Was it the habit of young Dalmatian women to take solitary midnight walks through bear-haunted forests?

Recovering from his surprise Paul hastened after her.

"Signorina, you cannot walk alone to Zara."

"And why cannot I walk alone to Zara?" said the young lady, facing Paul and assuming a hauteur that had a somewhat chilling effect upon his gallantry.

"Perils beset you-banditti, for example."

"With native Dalmatians the person of a woman is held sacred. No one, not even a robber, will do me hurt."

Subsequent inquiry on the part of Paul proved that the lady had spoken correctly. Indeed he learned that if a stranger travelling in this region were to place himself under the escort of a woman, he would be free from molestation.

This high standard of chivalry, curious among a people otherwise barbarous, explained the lady's confidence and fearlessness in approaching him.

"But, signorina," remonstrated Paul, "the way is so long. Zara is thirty miles off. And you would walk that distance on foot! Consider the fatigue."

"I can sit and rest, and when tired can sleep for a time on the ground as I did last night. I must reach Zara," she added, with a shiver as of fear.

Her dress of jewels gave proof of her wealth, her voice and manner of refinement. It was amazing, then, to hear her talk of sleeping al fresco on the turf like a gipsy or a soldier.

"I thank you, signor, but I do not require an escort." So saying she walked away again with the dignity of a princess, while Paul in his bewilderment gazed after her retreating figure.

"Here's a mystery, forsooth! Who is she? What is she? What lovely eyes! And what a witching face! Now how should a fellow act in a case like this? Ought I not to follow her?"

Paul had no wish to force his protection upon a young woman averse to it, but the circumstances seemed to justify him in exercising some sort of surveillance over her, for though the Dalmatians might be such paladins as she had represented, there were dangers other than those arising from the malevolence of human beings-bears, for example. If harm should befall her, then his would be the blame for permitting her to go on her way alone. But as she was opposed to his presence he shrank from walking by her side. She might insist upon his retiring, and refusal or obedience would be equally distasteful to him. His course was clear; the protection must be exercised from a distance, and without her knowledge.

Accordingly he followed in the wake of the young woman, screening himself from a possible backward glance on her part by keeping within the covert of the trees that skirted the roadside, and stepping out from time to time to note her progress.

Her slow and halting pace gave clear indication that she was worn with travelling, and half-an-hour had not passed when Paul observed her swaying to one side as if about to fall. Too tired to proceed farther, she turned to a grassy mound beside the road and sat down, resting her brow upon her hand, the very picture of languor and despondency.

The sight of her helplessness moved Paul strangely. No longer concealing himself, he walked boldly forward in the centre of the road that she might observe his coming.

"Signor, you are following me," she said, with a touch of reproach in her voice.

"I plead guilty."

"Wishing to protect me from imaginary perils?"

"Imaginary! You may be safe from men, but have you made a truce with the beasts? A huge bear crossed this road a few hours ago."

The lady gave a start of fear. Paul saw his advantage and pursued it.

"Signorina, I am an Englishman-a military officer, as you see," he remarked, putting aside his cloak and revealing his handsome uniform of dark blue adorned with silver facings. "I do not ask who or whence you are; but whether you be princess or peasant, I cannot let you go on your way alone and unprotected."

She did not reply, and Paul continued in a somewhat firmer tone,-

"You do wrong to repel me. You are too exhausted to walk farther without aid."

"You speak the truth," she murmured. "I am faint. I have eaten nothing for twelve hours."

Her tone went to Paul's heart, the more so as he had nothing to offer her in the shape of food, for he had long ago consumed his last morsel.

"You must think it strange," said the lady, after a brief pause, "for a woman to be wandering in this hour in such a spot."

"I do not press for confidences-only for permission to conduct you to a place of safety."

"But learn the risk you run by so doing. It was not from churlishness that I refused your escort just now. Signor, I will be frank with you, believing that you will not betray me. I have escaped from a convent, where I was forcibly detained, and I fear pursuit by the Austrian gendarmerie. Hence, by aiding me, you may come into collision with the authorities. Why should I bring trouble upon you? Now you understand my desire for Zara. I hope to find there some English vessel. Once beneath its flag I shall be safe."

"You fear pursuit? Then you require an arm for your defence. So long as I can handle sword and pistol no one shall carry you off against your will. Signorina, you must come with me."

"And where would you take me?" she asked in a tone that showed she was yielding.

"Not far from here, according to my guide-book, is a path leading down to the sea. On the shore, which is distant about a mile, stands a building, old but tenanted, and called Castel Nuovo. This is the nearest human habitation," continued Paul. "Before meeting you I had intended to try my fortune there. Now, suppose we go together? As the Dalmatians are such respecters of women they will not refuse you hospitality. Rest at this castle for the night, and to-morrow you shall find an easier way of reaching Zara than journeying thither on foot."

The young lady was not long in coming to a decision. A roof, food, and a bed, and these distant but a mile, offered a more attractive prospect than supperless repose on the dank turf of the dark bear-haunted wild-wood. She rose to her feet, looked intently at Paul, and read in his clear eyes the glance of a good conscience.

"Take me with you," she said, with the simplicity of a child.

Paul bowed, and offered his arm, which she accepted. The touch of her little hand thrilled him with a strange pleasure.