The Golden Bough. Gibbs George

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СКАЧАТЬ Yes. You are even slaves to liberty, which has made you the mere creatures of your own desires."

      "You are a monarchist, Monsieur Khodkine?" asked Rowland, with an innocent gaze.

      "May the good God forbid!" cried Khodkine abruptly. "I am a Russian, of the heart of Russia which throbs with the pulse-beats of humanity. The Czar has fallen, but the era of absolutism in Russia is not yet over."

      Rowland shifted his knees and fixed a cool look of inquiry upon Khodkine.

      "I am only a soldier, Monsieur," he said. "For a year I have been in a prison camp. As you must see, I am vastly ignorant of what is going on in the world."

      "Then you must know that my country has changed in nothing but a name. Instead of monarchy we have oligarchy-a band of men bent upon usurping the rights of the people. The people of Russia are drunk with freedom and accept the new order of things because they think it is what they have long fought for. But the men now in power in the Provisional Government are not to be trusted-capitalists, bureaucrats, the enemies of-"

      "You are a Socialist Democrat, then, Monsieur?" put in Rowland.

      "A friend of Russia's freedom-call me by whatever name you please."

      Khodkine shrugged and blew a cloud of smoke.

      "You mean that there are still those in power who are in sympathy with Germany?" asked Rowland.

      Khodkine rose and walked the length of the room while Rowland watched him keenly.

      "What else? Is it not clear to you?"

      "I am perhaps dull, Monsieur," said Rowland, vacuously. "Rasputin is dead. The Czarina has gone. In them you will admit the fountain heads of German intrigue have been destroyed."

      "Diverted, let us say, Monsieur-upon the surface. But the evil stream still flows-secretly, below the ground, to appear in high places where least expected."

      Rowland rose and threw his cigarette into the hearth.

      "I have no doubt that what you say is true, Monsieur Khodkine. I am not wise. If I am to be of service here" – Rowland paused significantly, until he found Khodkine's gaze-"if I am to be of service here, I must trust myself into the hands of those who have a deeper insight into the politics of Europe than myself. I have promised Mademoiselle Korasov to stay at Nemi and do what I can. I would like to help." He paused again and then, with an air of frankness: "Perhaps, Monsieur Khodkine, I could do no better than to entrust myself into your hands."

      Khodkine turned half toward him, his fine white teeth showing in a smile and then thrust forth a hand in confirmation.

      "Can it be that you will trust me?"

      "Implicitly."

      Khodkine's pale eyes glowed with purpose.

      "Ah, that is good, Monsieur Rowlan'. It seems that the hand which guides the destiny of Nemi is still unerring." And then more quietly, "You know what power is yours to command?"

      "Mademoiselle Korasov has told me something, – but with skillful advisers-

      "All will be well, Monsieur. But you will have many advisers. They are coming here today, but you must select the wheat from the chaff. I shall tell you whom to trust. Russia must be born again. You shall help her in the pains of birth-save her from the malevolent hands which threaten to throttle her in the very act of being."

      "It is a great destiny you plan, Monsieur. The society of Nemi may be powerful, but I can hardly believe that such a powerful autocracy as Germany-"

      "Tst-Monsieur! You have heard some of the rumblings in the Reichstag. Liebknecht the elder blazed the way. His son has followed-"

      "Oh, yes, Liebknecht. I've heard-"

      "Only the military might of Germany holds the nation intact, but even in its might it trembles. Nemi is strong in Germany. In many regiments the socialists have revolted and in the navy-mutiny. Those men realize that there is a force let loose into the world, before which the selfish aims of the rulers of the countries of the earth are as chaff in the wind. Not one nation shall rule, or several, but all-Monsieur. All! Internationalism-! Do you know what that means?"

      And as Rowland remained silent, as though in deep thought, Khodkine threw his long arms out in a wide gesture.

      "You shall see. The time comes soon-"

      "And you will help me, Monsieur?" Rowland asked urbanely.

      "With all my heart and intelligence."

      Khodkine smiled and the two men clasped hands. Monsieur Khodkine's hands were very white and as smooth as a woman's, but there was strength in the sinew beneath. Internationalism! A fine word! which might mean anything… If this man were Rowland's enemy, at least he should not start with any advantage. The new Leader of Nemi was learning, still moving in the dark, for the names of those who had come into power in Russia, Lvoff, Rodzianko-and the others had seemed to stand for all that was best in the interests of free government. And so he had led Monsieur Khodkine out, that he might inspect, in profile, as it were, the motives which underlay his politics. As yet nothing definite-only a suspicion. As to the sincerity of his beliefs in the ritual of Nemi, Rowland was soon enlightened.

      "You are a practical man, Monsieur Rowland," Khodkine went on easily. "You are no doubt mystified by the curious sequence of events which have brought you here to Nemi, as titular head of this great and secret order. But I too am a practical man, and I will be frank with you. I care nothing for symbols. Whatever the society of Nemi is in the minds of its legion of followers, to me it is merely a means to a great end-the safety and peace of all Europe. The fulfillment of the promises of the legend is extraordinary-almost incredible, but neither you nor I as men of the world can believe that it comes from any supernatural agency. Kirylo Ivanitch was immolated upon the altar of his own fears, a sacrifice to his own superstition. He killed the Priest who preceded him. For years his Nemesis, a true Nemesis, my friend, has pursued him. But you, Monsieur, must permit no such doubts to poison your usefulness."

      "Why should I," laughed Rowland. "A man attacks me, stabs me with a knife. If he is killed, is it my fault? My conscience is clear."

      "Good. Then we understand each other." He broke off with a shrug.

      "As to the ritual of Nemi. There is a strength in mysticism, a fact which the vile Rasputin was not long in finding out. A little ceremonial does no harm and you, Monsieur, must play your part with skill and some caution."

      "By all means," said Rowland, with a laugh. "Until the new priest of Nemi shall find me out. Then at least I assure you that I shall not stand on ceremony."

      "Ah, as to that, you may reassure yourself," said Khodkine, easily. "A Miracle such as this may sometime happen by chance, but not twice in one generation."

      "At least," Rowland concluded cheerfully, "you may be sure that I am not afraid."

      "Perhaps it is well that we have a soldier at Nemi," said Khodkine with a smile. And then after a pause-"Tell me, Monsieur. Did Mademoiselle Korasov commit to your keeping any documents-any papers?"

      "None," lied Rowland coolly. "As you know, this affair has happened so recently-"

      "There were no papers found upon the body of Monsieur Ivanitch?"

      "If they have not been removed by Issad or СКАЧАТЬ