The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1905-03-30
CHAPTER XII.

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49, fled farm-below these deep en-
brasured windows the river Oster
mumbled softly. One of the windows
was wide open, and with the voice of
the water a wonderful music rolled
out to mingle and lose itself in the
hum Of the pine woods
girl was alone in the room. The
presence of any one would have ST.
fenced something that was throbbing
at the back of the chords. Quite sud-
denly she stopped. She knew how to
play the quaint last notes. She knew
something that no master had ever
taught her.
She swung round on the stool and
faced the light. It was afternoon-an
autumn afternoon in Russia-and the
pink light made the very best Of face
which was not beautiful at ALL never
could be beautiful-a face about which
even the owner, 4 woman, could have
no possible illusion. It was broad and
powerful, with eyes too far apart, fore
head too broad and low, jaw too heavy,
mouth too determined. The eyes We're
almond shaped and slightly sloping
downward and inward-deep, passion
ate blue eyes set in a Monaghan head.
The girl was evidently listening. She
glanced at a little golden clock on the
mantelpiece and then at the open Win
dow. She rose-she was short and
somewhat broadly built-and went to
the window.
HE will be back,' she said to her
self, "in few minutes now.''
She raised her hand to her forehead
and pressed back her hair with q lit
tie movement of Impotence, express
i've, perhaps, of great suspense. She
stood idly drumming on the window
sill for few moments; then, with
quick. little sigh, she went back to the
piano. AS she moved she gave jerk
Of the head from time to time, as
schoolgirls who have too much hair
are wont to do. The reason of this
nervous movement was a WondrOus
plait Of gold reaching far below her
waist. Catrina Lanovitch almost wor-
SHIPPED her own hair. She knew without
any doubt that not one woman in ten
thousand could rival her in this fe1ni-
nine glory-knew it as Individually as
she knew that she was plain. All her
femininity seemed to be concentrated,
all her vanity centered, on her hair. It
was her one pride, perhaps her one
hope Women have been loved for
their voices. Catrina's voice was mu-
steal enough, but it was deep and
strong. It was passionate, tender if
she wished, fascinating, but it was not
lovable. IT the voice may win love,
why not the hair?
Catrina despised all men but one.
That one she worshiped. She lived
night and day with one great desire,
beside which heaven and hell were
mere words. Neither the hope of the
one nor the fear Of the other in any
way touched or affected her desire.
She wanted to make Paul Alexis love
her, and, womanlike, she chung to the
one womanly charm that was hers, the
wonderful golden hair.
Suddenly she stopped playing and
leaped to her feet. She did not go to
the window, but stood listening beside
the piano. The beat of horses hoofs
On the narrow road was distinctly au-
dible, hollow and sodden as is the
sound of q wooden road 1t came near
er and nearer. and q certain unsteadi-
ness indicated that the horse was tired
Il thought lie might have GOMEZ she
whispered, and she sat down breath
Iessly.
When the servant came into the
room few minutes later Catrina was
at the piano.
~ letter, mademoiselle," said the
maid.
Lay it on the table" answered Ca
trina without looking round. She was
playing the closing bars Of nocturne.
She rose slowly, turned and seized
the letter as a starving man seizes
food. There was something almost
wolf-like in her eyes
"sSteinmetz!'' she exclaimed. reading
the address. "Steinmetz! Oh. why
won't he write to me?'
She tore open the letter, read it. and
stood holding it in her hand, looking
out over the trackless pine woods with
absorbed, speculative eyes. The sun
had just set. The farthest ridge of pine
trees stood out like the teeth of a saw
in black relief on the rosy sky. Catri-
na Lanovitch watched the rosiness
fade into pearly gray.
Thors lay groaning under the scourge
of cholera, and the Countess Lanovitch
shut herself within her stone walls,
shivering with fear, begging her
daughter to return to St. Petersburg.
1t was nearly dark when Karl Stein
metz and the Moscow doctor rode into
the little village, to find the starosta, a
simple Russian farmer, awaiting them.
Steinmetz knew the man and imme-
diately took command of the situation
with that unquestioned sense of au-
thority which in Russia places the
BARN on much the same footing as
that taken by the Anglo Indian in an
eastern empire.
''Now, starosta," he said, I'VE have
only an hour to spend in Thors. This