Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1916)

62 The Serpent cording to her mood. More wine was poured and gayly quaffed. This is life worth while, thought Vania. Without her knowing it, somehow, the grand duke's arms were about her, his lips fastened to her own. She fought against his power instinctively, but a great blackness engulfed her. Vania woke in a bed that on first thought seemed heaven. It was as blue as the sky in midsummer, and all about her were cerulean draperies and dainty furniture of the same exquisite hue. But Vania felt weak, ill, and her head ached. Hitherto, she had not known an ache. She imagined she was dying. With a heart that almost suffocated her, she remembered the grand duke. Shudderingly, she buried her face in the pillows. To think of wThat had happened was terrifying. What would she do? What could she do? Into the room tiptoed the enigmatic Matusha, a bowl of broth on a tray. "Don't feel badly, Vania," counseled the woman. "Worse than this might have happened. I call you a lucky girl • — indeecl I do ! You would have married a muzhik who would have beaten you in a week. I did. And, oh, the chances of rich men I had thrown away ! Better to be a rich man's mistress than a poor man's maid, I say. You were born for the good things in life, Vania. Take all you can get, and keep a still tongue, is my advice.'' "Andrey, poor Audrey, was to marry me soon, but now " sobbed the girl, keeping her head in the pillows. Then she raised her head in a determined manner. "I shall kill him and myself !" For a moment, her old-time temper asserted itself, but she broke again into wailing her misfortune. "There, there, my dear," comforted Matusha, patting the dark head. "You will soon be all right. Drink this soup and smile at your good luck. Thousands of girls would envy you. The barin is crazy about you ; he will shower wealth upon you ; you will have all your heart's desires. Would you rather marry a boor and starve for the rest of your life, a dozen brats crying to you for bread? Be sensible. Take all you can get, and keep a still tongue !" The Tartar woman left the room. Vania pondered her words, denied their sophistry one moment, and agreed with it another moment. Drinking the broth, she felt better, and shortly fell asleep. When she opened her eyes again, morning sunlight streamed in the beautiful boudoir, and the duke was sitting beside the bed. Her first impulse was to strangle him. Something of her emotion came to the man. "Do not hate me, lovely child," he pleaded. "I love you — love you with all my heart and soul. Let us be happy together. Marriage does not matter with those who love passionately. I have a wife, you know, and a son — a boy sixteen. But the duchess is not happy with me. She does not love me. I do not care for her. We live apart. My son lives with me, however, and he is all and all to me — or was till you came into my life. Wnen I saw thee, sweet, I simply had to have you. I left that cigarette case on your table designedly, feeling that you would bring it to me, and then I would possess you. Forgive me, lovely child. From now on I am your devoted slave. And see what I have for you. "Look !" He held out to her a pearl necklace of fabulous worth. Vania surrendered herself to him. "Will you love me always?" she whispered, as he took her in his arms. "Always, lovely child," he said. Weeks of untrammeled joy came and went. The Grand Duke Valonoff seemed as intensely in love with Vania as ever. Each day she wratched his face to see if he were tired of her. She dreaded that hour, yet told herself it would never happen ; her conflict of emotions was baffling. One thing that