The Reason Why | Page 5

gave
her pleasure to say it. "The woman Féto caused the fray, Ivan Larski
shot him in her arms; he was her lover who paid, and Ladislaus the
amant du coeur for the moment. She wailed over the body like a
squealing rabbit. She was there lamenting his fine eyes when they sent
for me! They were gone for ever, but no one could mistake his curly
hair, nor his cruel, white hands. Ah! it was a scene of disgust! I have
witnessed many ugly things but that was of the worst. I do not wish to
talk of it; it is passed a year ago. Féto heaped his grave with flowers,
and joined the hero, Larski, who was allowed to escape, so all was
well."
"And since then you have lived from hand to mouth, with those others."
And here Francis Markrute's voice took on a new shade: there was a
cold hate in it.
"I have lived with my little brother, Mirko, and Mimo. How could I
desert them? And sometimes we have found it hard at the end of the

quarter--but it was not always as bad as that, especially when Mimo
sold a picture--"
"I will not hear his name!" Francis Markrute said with some excitement.
"In the beginning, if I could have found him I would have killed him, as
you know, but now the carrion can live, since my sister is dead. He is
not worth powder and shot."
The Countess Shulski gave the faintest shrug of her shoulders, while
her eyes grew blacker with resentment. She did not speak. Francis
Markrute stood by the mantelpiece, and lit a cigar before he continued;
he knew he must choose his words as he was dealing with no helpless
thing.
"You are twenty-three years old, Zara, and you were married at
sixteen," he said at last. "And up to thirteen at least I know you were
very highly educated--You understand something of life, I expect."
"Life!" she said--and now there was a concentrated essence of
bitterness in her voice. "Mon Dieu! Life--and men!"
"Yes, you probably think you know men."
She lifted her upper lip a little, and showed her even teeth--it was like
an animal snarling.
"I know that they are either selfish weaklings, or cruel, hateful brutes
like Ladislaus, or clever, successful financiers like you, my uncle. That
is enough! Something we women must be always sacrificed to."
"Well, you don't know Englishmen--"
"Yes, I remember my father very well; cold and hard to my darling
mother"--and here her voice trembled a little--"he only thought of
himself, and to rush to England for sport--and leave her alone for
months and months: selfish and vile--all of them!"
"In spite of that I have found you an English husband whom you will

be good enough to take, madame," Francis Markrute announced
authoritatively.
She gave a little laugh--if anything so mirthless could be called a laugh.
"You have no power over me; I shall do no such thing."
"I think you will," the financier said with quiet assurance, "if I know
you. There are terms, of course--"
She glanced at him sharply: the expression in those somber eyes was
often alert like a wild animal's, about to be attacked; only she had
trained herself generally to keep the lids lowered.
"What are the terms?" she asked.
And as she spoke Francis Markrute thought of the black panther in the
Zoo, which he was so fond of going to watch on Sunday mornings, she
reminded him so of the beast at the moment.
He had been constrained up to this, but now, the question being one of
business, all his natural ease of manner returned, and he sat down
opposite her and blew rings of smoke from his cigar.
"The terms are that the boy Mirko, your half-brother, shall be provided
for for life. He shall live with decent people, and have his talent
properly cultivated--"
He stopped abruptly and remained silent.
Countess Shulski clasped her hands convulsively in her lap, and with
all the pride and control of her voice there was a note of anguish, too,
which would have touched any heart but one so firmly guarded as
Francis Markrute's.
"Ah, God!" she said so low that he could only just hear her, "I have
paid the price of my body and soul once for them. It is too much to ask
it of me a second time--"

"That is as you please," said the financier.
He seldom made a mistake in his methods with people. He left nothing
to chance; he led up the conversation to the right point, fired his bomb,
and then showed absolute indifference. To display interest in a move,
when one was really interested, was always a point to the adversary. He
maintained interest