The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1901-09-11
Sergius Hotzka's
Only Friends.
A Story of Russian Races
and of Love.

1t Is the morning Of the Epiphany.
The intense cold of the night has
moderated, but the thermometer stIll
marks ID degrees below zero. From
the tall steeples Of innumerable church
IS the bells Of st. Petersburg ring In
the sacred feast. In an eXquisitely APP
ported room Of palace, where ten
der lights filter through the golden
shadows Of sillsen hangings, sits n wo-
man. Her attitude is one of rcpose,
deep, unfullled From the crown of
her little flame colored head TO the tip
Of her dainty shoe she Is perfect bit
of Dame Natures art. If she were
standing, we should call her tall, but
she sits crouching In her chair with all
the abandon of a doing tigress. She
gives little yawn
"Ah, late, rs usual" she says aloud.
As she speaks the door opens, and d
servant enters.
Captain Repine." Ire announces.
He follows quickly on the mans
heels-short. thickset. with duh Cos
sack face and kindly smile, wearing
the uniform of an officer of the impe-
rial bodyguard
Pardon, my dear Elisaveta Have |
made you waltz
She gives her shapely shoulders a
slight shrug but watches him with
contemplatiyc eyes as he rattles on.
"Imagine. my beloved, thought that
| should mol he able 10 take you to the
races, | was 50 rushed mt the last mo-
ment Oh, but they will be superb!
Never has the track been more perfect
hard as rock and not a fake OF
snow"
Indeed" says the lady languidly.
Putting ont n lazy, beringed hand, she
draws back the curtain that hides her
window. 1T is superb" she assents.
you know how difficult 1t is to nc
complish that" continued the young
officer, with this cursed wind drifting
the Ladoga snow. Stll must tell you
that 800 men have worked all night at
It, Brave fellows"
"The journal says something of Il
three horse race"
come
Eve have still another hour" she an
swered and motioned him to seat be-
side her.
"No. no; at your feet, always at your
feet, Princess Neta," said the young
man gayly, hnging his head back to
better look into the opal tinted eyes
nh Tod
chin against the rose Of her palm she
sits lost in n world Of reverie.
"Do you remember Sergius HotzkaW
she asked suddenly.
He shrugged his shoulders, accus
toned to the willful wanderings of the
great city's petted belle.
"How could ! ever forget him." he
said In turn. "Was there ever man
who left more inenaceable traces be-
hind him? He was an original mad
man"
Original" echoes Elsaveta. "Ah,
what Il cowardIy word Originally she
repeated, as though intcrrogating her
own thought The young man frowned
Eighty, but she went on with calm
retrospectiaa. only three years ago."
she sad. "and he appeared among us
like some brilliant mcteor-fa bulously
rich, aston Ding the world with his
eccentric pfGdigaliiies. Then all those
clod roofing swine. they deserted him
when he was no longer wealthy"
Her lovers white teeth We're like a
wolfish danger signal as he turned to
look at her.
MY dear" he said coldly, you can't
expect the world TO be faithful 10 a
proscript."
"Proscriptv
Exactly. They say that political
complications were his ruin At any
rate he IL banished from st. Peters
burg"
"Then he is In Siberian"
With all a soldiers diplomacy he
says indfferenlly: II believe not.
The peasants tell a story of a hermit
Of the steppes, who mends kettles and
plows for the farmers. Many believe
1t to be Hotzka, with the remains Of
his own famous stud"
"Farmers-kettles." echoed Ellsayeta
absently.
J. Suddenly she turns on her moody
swain.
|. Come. Alexander" she cries, II can
see the crowds gather from here.
,Quick-we must hurry"
r 1t is scarcely n half hour later and
the race course presents a brilliant
spectacle. The river Neya is now only