For once Dmitry had let himself go, as he spoke, and a passionate hate appeared in his quiet eyes. The "Trouble" was of so impossible a viciousness that only the nobility and goodness of Madame had prevented his assassination numbers of times. He was hated, he said, hated and loathed; his life--spent in continual drunkenness, and worse, unspeakable wickedness--was not worth a day's purchase, but for her. The son of Madame would be loved forever, for her sake, so the Excellency need not fear for that, and Madame's brother was there, and would see all was well.
Then Paul asked Dmitry if his lady had been aware that he had been ill in Venice. And he heard that, Yes, indeed, she had kept herself informed of all his movements, and had even sent Vasili back on learning of his danger, and was on the point of throwing all prudence to the winds and returning herself. Oh! Madame had greatly suffered in the past year--the old man said, but she was more beautiful than ever, and of the gentleness of an angel, taking continuous pleasure in her little son--indeed, Anna had said this was her only joy, to caress the illustrious infant and call him Paul--such name he had been christened--after a great-uncle. And again Dmitry lowered his eyes, and again Paul looked out of the window and thrilled.
Paul! She had called him Paul, their son. It touched him to the heart. Oh! the mad longing to see her! Must he wait a whole month? Yes--Dmitry said there was no use his coming before the 28th of May, for reasons which he could not explain connected with the to-be-hated Troublesome one.
Every detail was then arranged, and Dmitry was to send Paul maps, and a chart, and the exact description and name of the place where the yacht was to lie. The whole thing would take some time, even if they were to depart to-morrow.
"The yacht is at Marseilles now," Paul said, "and we shall start on the cruise next week. Let me have every last instruction poste restante, at Constantinople--and for God's sake send me news to Naples on the way."
Dmitry promised everything, and then as he made his obeisance to go, he slipped a letter into Paul's hand. Madame had bidden him give the Excellency this when they had talked and all was settled. He would leave again that night, and his present address would find him till six o'clock if the Excellency had aught to send in return.
And then he backed out with deep bows, and Paul stood there, clasping his letter, a sudden spring of wild joy in his heart.