Pa.s.sion, on the contrary, when the soul is a stranger to it, is made up of egotism and material gratifications.

In such a case, in the hands of a man who knows he is more desired than loved, the woman is no longer an adorable companion in life who encourages and consoles, a faithful friend whose joy doubles our joys.

She becomes an instrument of pleasure, whose jealous owner would have not only all her moments of _abandon_, but all her smiles and her most trifling thoughts. She must live for him alone, please him only, be beautiful before him alone. Destroying the aspirations of the woman who has thus rashly given herself up to him, her master soon makes of her a slave, whose heart, stifled by its surroundings, ere long ceases to beat. And when the day of satiety and _abandon_ comes, there remains of the ideal creature of G.o.d nothing but a worthless woman, soiled in her own eyes, and fated thenceforward to lead a life of weariness and disgust.

But Lise Olsdorf, abandoning herself to the fierce pa.s.sion that had seized upon her, could not imagine that perhaps such a future loomed before her. The many hunting excursions of the prince left her practically at full liberty, for when the male guests of Pampeln were away hunting, there remained at the chateau scarcely any one but middle-aged, placid people, who retired early, and who, for that matter, on account of the very reputation of the princess, did not dream of spying upon her.

Moreover, there was an excellent excuse for the lovers being for hours at a time together. The day after that which had settled their fate, the painter had begun the portrait of the mistress of Pampeln, and everybody--Pierre Olsdorf more than any one else--was interested in this work, which promised to be noteworthy.

Under the empire of his pa.s.sion for her, Paul Meyrin had at first wished to paint the princess as Diana the Huntress, her hair in a Grecian knot, her shoulders bare, her bust scarcely veiled; but, on seeing a sketch of the future picture, Lise Olsdorf was alarmed. It seemed to her that everything in it betrayed at once the painter"s love for her, and she begged him not to go on with the work. Paul consented, but on condition that his model, re-enacting for him the shamelessness of the Italian princess for Canova, would let him some day secretly, for themselves alone, reproduce on canvas the splendor of all her beauty. And Lise, having promised in a pa.s.sionate embrace, Paul Meyrin, going from one extreme to the other, painted her in a riding-habit, severely chaste.

Within a fortnight the portrait was nearly finished, and the prince, who naturally suspected nothing of his conjugal misfortunes, thanked Paul Meyrin, and authorized him to take the portrait to Paris for hanging in the next exhibition.

At each hour pa.s.sed with Paul, the princess"s love increased. It was in some sort purified by the admiration she felt for the artist at his work.

While the sittings lasted, at liberty to see him for a long time every day, she loved him better and less wantonly; but, wishful as the painter was to linger with his work, prudence obliged him at last to admit that he had finished, and consequently to put an end to the daily interviews in private. Then Lise"s pa.s.sion retook its first fierce form.

Deprived of the interviews in the course of which, satisfied and glutted, she could gather a store of calmness for the rest of the day, she became jealous, troubled, rash. Soon she was so little mistress of herself that General Podoi"s wife, helped by her own experience in like affairs, guessed at a part, at least, of what was going on.

Alarmed--not in her virtue, but in her affection, which was wholly of pride--for her daughter, as to the consequences that might follow upon such an intrigue, the ex-Countess Barineff watched the princess more closely. It was soon impossible to have any doubt of her relations with the handsome foreigner, for one evening her mother caught them almost in each other"s arms in the great alley of Pampeln, which had been the scene of the declaration of their love.

The general"s wife was, as we have said, a woman of energy. The next morning, before breakfast, wasting no time in beating about the bush, she appeared in Paul Meyrin"s room, without having her visit announced beforehand.

Astonished, to begin with, by her appearance, the artist was very soon still more so by her speech, for without preamble or oratorical devices she said:

"Monsieur, I come to ask you to bid adieu to the other guests this very day, and to leave Pampeln. You will write to the prince, who is away and will not be back before night, that you have had letters from Paris summoning you to return at once."

"I do not understand you, madame," stammered the young man.

"You had better, however, without forcing me to explain further. I introduced you to Prince Olsdorf, and I am therefore in some degree answerable for your behavior under his roof. This responsibility is already too great, and I desire not to be any longer under it."

"But, madame, were the prince to believe the excuse I should make, following your advice, for my sudden leave-taking, there are others who perhaps would be less credulous."

"That is no concern of mine. You may tell them what you like. The best way would be to say nothing--to anybody; but you must go. Give me your promise."

"Must?"

"You know well that I have the right--that it is my duty--to speak thus."

"And if I refuse to obey?"

"If you refuse, in ten minutes" time two of General Podoi"s friends will wait on you with a challenge--discreet friends who will find reasons for a duel that will compromise n.o.body but myself. The shame of fighting with an old man will be yours, and then you can not stay here."

That good fellow Podoi had little idea that the woman who bore his name was at that moment disposing of his life so calmly. Still, she knew that there was no need to consult her husband in any event, and that in a delicate case of the kind she would find him, as he always was, ready to obey any wish of hers.

Much embarra.s.sed, and knowing not how to get himself out of this downright trap, Paul Meyrin was silent. He was sure that he had to do with a woman that would not give way.

"Come, now," the ex-Countess Barineff went on, dryly, "will you or will you not go?"

"I will go," replied the painter, bowing.

"This evening?"

"You will surely grant me a respite of twenty-four hours. I promise I will start to-morrow morning."

"No, you must go to-day, before the prince returns. There are horses and a carriage at your disposal to take you to Mittau. You will do well to go thence straight to Paris. If your stay in Russia were heard of here, after your sudden departure from Pampeln, it might give rise to questions. I want to avoid that."

The tone she had spoken these words in did not suffer Paul to hesitate.

"Very well, then, madame," he said, "I will leave this evening."

"Without seeing--you know whom?" said Lise"s mother.

"No; I won"t promise that! If I did not pay my respects to all whom they are due to before I quit the chateau, in the first place I should be set down as a boor, and besides, your end would not be granted, for everybody would try to find out the cause of such singular conduct."

"You pretend not to understand me. I will speak more plainly, much as it costs me to do so. You shall not see the princess again in private."

"I can promise you one thing alone, that I will not provoke an explanation between Madame la Princess and myself. You must admit that if she honors me by demanding one I could not refuse her it."

"She will not try to see you."

"She may do so."

"I hope otherwise."

"In that case, madame, we are agreed. All shall be done as you wish. I will write now to the prince explaining my departure."

Content with having got this promise, she left him and went at once to her daughter"s room.

The princess was at her toilet when her mother came into the room.

"Send away the maid," she said; "I have something to say to you."

Rather surprised, Lise Olsdorf obeyed. Then turning to her mother, she asked, with a smile:

"What have you to tell me that is so mysterious?"

"I have just requested Monsieur Paul Meyrin to leave Pampeln to-day,"

replied the ex-Countess Barineff.

The princess understood all, and anger flushed her face with blood; but not losing self-command, she replied calmly:

"Why do you tell _me_ this? I presume you have the prince"s authority for taking such a step in respect to one of his guests."

"I have consulted n.o.body. Monsieur Meyrin"s longer stay here might at any hour be the occasion for a scandalous scene. My duty was to do what I have done."

"Has this young man bowed to your orders without protesting or defending himself?"

"He is going away this evening."