Chapter 6

VI

THE MYSTERIOUS HAND

After the departure of Matrena, Rouletabille turned his attention
to the garden. Neither the marshal of the court nor the officers
were there any longer. The three men had disappeared. Rouletabille
wished to know at once where they had gone. He went rapidly to the
gate, named the officers and the marshal to Ermolai, and Ermolai
made a sign that they had passed out. Even as he spoke he saw the
marshal's carriage disappear around a corner of the road. As to
the two officers, they were nowhere on the roadway. He was
surprised that the marshal should have gone without seeing Matrena
or the general or himself, and, above all, he was disquieted by the
disappearance of the orderlies. He gathered from the gestures of
Ermolai that they had passed before the lodge only a few minutes
after the marshal's departure. They had gone together. Rouletabille
set himself to follow them, traced their steps in the soft earth of
the roadway and soon they crossed onto the grass. At this point
the tracks through the massed ferns became very difficult to follow.
He hurried along, bending close to the ground over such traces as he
could see, which continually led him astray, but which conducted him
finally to the thing that he sought. A noise of voices made him
raise his head and then throw himself behind a tree. Not twenty
steps from him Natacha and Boris were having an animated
conversation. The young officer held himself erect directly in
front of her, frowning and impatient. Under the uniform cloak that
he had wrapped about him without having bothered to use the sleeves,
which were tossed up over his chest, Boris had his arms crossed.
His entire attitude indicated hauteur, coldness and disdain for
what he was hearing. Natacha never appeared calmer or more mistress
of herself. She talked to him rapidly and mostly in a low voice.
Sometimes a word in Russian sounded, and then she resumed her care
to speak low. Finally she ceased, and Boris, after a short silence,
in which he had seemed to reflect deeply, pronounced distinctly
these words in French, pronouncing them syllable by syllable, as
though to give them additional force:

"You ask a frightful thing of me."

"It is necessary to grant it to me," said the young girl with
singular energy. "You understand, Boris Alexandrovitch! It is
necessary."

Her gaze, after she had glanced penetratingly all around her and
discovered nothing suspicious, rested tenderly on the young
officer, while she murmured, "My Boris!" The young man could not
resist either the sweetness of that voice, nor the captivating charm
of that glance. He took the hand she extended toward him and kissed
it passionately. His eyes, fixed on Natacha,