Brazilian had asked for an
introduction to the beautiful Polish
lady--for Frau von Chabert was taken for one in Vevey. She, cold
and designing as she was, blushed
slightly when he stood before
her for the first time; and when he gave her his arm, he could
feel her hand tremble
slightly on it. The same evening they went
out riding together, the next he was lying at her feet, and on
the third she was his. For four weeks the lovely Wanda and the
Brazilian lived together as if they had been in Paradise, but he
could not
deceive her searching eyes any longer.
Her sharp and
practiced eye had already discovered in him that
indefinable something which makes a man appear a suspicious
character. Any other woman would have been pained and horrified
at such a discovery, but she found the strange
consolation in it
that her handsome adorer promised also to become a very
interesting object for
pursuit, and so she began systematically
to watch the man who lay unsuspectingly at her feet.
She soon found out that he was no
conspirator; but she asked
herself in vain whether she was to look for a common swindler, an
impudent ad
venturer, or perhaps even a
criminal in him. The day
that she had
foreseen soon came; the Brazilian's banker
"unaccountably" had omitted to send him any money, and so he
borrowed some of her. "So he is a male courtesan," she said to
herself. The handsome man soon required money again, and she lent
it to him again. Then at last he left suddenly and nobody knew
where he had gone to; only this much, that he had left Vevey as
the
companion of an old but
wealthy Wallachian lady. So this time
clever Wanda was duped.
A year afterward she met the Brazilian
unexpectedly at Lucca,
with an insipid-looking, light-haired, thin Englishwoman on his
arm. Wanda stood still and looked at him
steadily, but he glanced
at her quite
indifferently; he did not choose to know her again.
The next morning, however, his valet brought her a letter from
him, which contained the
amount of his debt in Italian
hundred-lire notes, accompanied by a very cool excuse. Wanda was
satisfied, but she wished to find out who the lady was, in whose
company she
constantly saw Don Escovedo.
"Don Escovedo."
An Austrian count, who had a loud and silly laugh, said:
"Who has saddled you with that yarn? The lady is Lady
Nitingsdale, and his name is Romanesco."
"Romanesco?"
"Yes, he is a rich Boyar from Moldavia, where he has extensive
estates."
Romanesco ran a faro bank in his apartments, and certainly
cheated, for he nearly always won; it was not long, therefore,
before other people in good society at Lucca shared Madame von
Chabert's suspicions, and,
consequently, Romanesco thought it
advisable to
vanish as suddenly from Lucca as Escovedo had done
from Vevey, and without leaving any more traces behind him.
Some time afterward, Madame von Chabert was on the Island of
Heligoland, for the sea-bathing; and one day she saw
Escovedo-Romanesco sitting opposite to her at the table d'hote,
in very
animated conversation with a Russian lady; only his hair
had turned black since she had seen him last. Evidently his light
hair had become too compromising for him.
"The sea-water seems to have a very
remarkable effect upon your
hair," Wanda said to him spitefully, in a whisper.
"Do you think so?" he replied, condescendingly.
"I fancy that at one time your hair was fair."
"You are mis
taking me for somebody else," the Brazilian replied,
quietly.
"I am not."
"For whom do you take me, pray?" he said with an
insolent smile.
"For Don Escovedo."
"I am Count Dembizki from Valkynia," the former Brazilian said
with a bow; "perhaps you would like to see my passport."
"Well, perhaps--"
And he had the impudence to show her his false passport.
A year afterward Wanda met Count Dembizki in Baden, near Vienna.
His hair was still black, but he had a
magnificent, full, black
beard; he had become a Greek
prince, and his name was Anastasio
Maurokordatos. She met him once in one of the side walks in the