CHAPTER XII

The relations between the handsome singer and the new Director, so pleasantly established on the night of the Countess Golitzine’s concert, progressed very smoothly. La Belle Quéro was unwontedly gentle and submissive in her acceptance of any professional suggestions from the handsome young Italian.

It was the general gossip that she was a good deal in love with Corsini, and wavering in her allegiance to the masterful and tyrannical Prince. Nello himself took the situation very calmly. In the first place, Madame Quéro was a married woman; to fall in love with her, were he so disposed, would be hopeless, unless he resolved to risk a scandal that might adversely affect their respective careers.

And more important still, although he felt for her a quite warm friendship, he was not the least in love. Her full and opulent beauty possessed little attraction for him.

Although at present he did not fully realise the fact, the serene loveliness of the young Princess Nada, combined with her girlish esprit, her air of rank and position, had cast a spell over him that he could not shake off. She would always be the lady of his dreams, although by the exigencies of their different stations, he would be compelled to worship her in secret and from afar.

She was surrounded with the halo of birth and great position. Madame Quéro, although a woman of genius and considerable brain power, had sprung from the peasant class. Her husband, whom she had married when little more than a child, had been a poor fisherman. She made him a handsome allowance, on the condition that he never intruded his rights nor exposed her to the annoyance of his presence.

Her glorious voice had lifted her from grinding poverty and obscurity, her quick mentality had enabled her to acquire much, to adapt herself, with more than fair success, to her new environment. But certain traces of her humble origin showed themselves very plainly at times, especially in moments of excitement—vulgarity of gesture, some common terms of speech, picked up from the gutter where she had played with other bare-footed children like herself.

To a man of Corsini’s naturally refined and elevated temperament, these unconscious revelations came as a disturbing shock. And the more intimate he became with her, the more frequently she revealed herself, having no longer occasion to wear a protecting mask.

In a palace or a fashionable drawing-room, with that careful mask on, La Belle Quéro was one personage, most careful as to speech and manner. In her dressing-room, or in familiar intercourse with a fellow artist, not of the great world, only belonging to the aristocracy of talent, she was quite another being, with the solecisms, the occasional coarse flashes of humor, of the Biscayan peasant.

No; although La Belle Quéro was so much nearer to him from the social point of view, for his origin had not been so much more distinguished than her own, he could not feel fascinated, in spite of her obvious liking for him.

Golitzine, who had spies everywhere, in the dressing-rooms of actresses, in the boudoirs of great ladies, knew all there was to know about the friendship of the conductor and the prima donna. Was Corsini taking advantage of his opportunities to acquire the woman’s confidence, so that it might serve his employer’s interest?

But Corsini was only being used as a pawn in the game. He did not even know that he was being used even in this humble capacity. He must have guessed that there were some subtle motives behind this sudden and unexpected preferment; but how could he possibly guess what these motives were?

If the young Italian was going to be made really useful, he would have to be enlightened. Salmoros, in his letter, had made a point of his being kept in the dark, fearful probably of some scruples on his part on being told that he was to play the rôle of a spy.

He, Golitzine, was loath to go against the advice of Salmoros, but astute and shrewd as the financier was, he could not have thought out the situation with his usual judgment. The time had certainly arrived when Corsini must be told frankly the part he was expected to play.

After all, there was nothing in the least dishonourable in what he would be asked to do. Salmoros and the Count between them, with the sanction of the Emperor, had set him on the high road to fame and fortune. Their enemies were a band of traitors, headed by Zouroff, assisted by Madame Quéro. He must and would, in honour bound, prove his allegiance to his benefactors.

Having made up his mind, it was not long before the energetic Count summoned the young Italian to a private interview in the Winter Palace. As on the previous occasion, the same tall stranger was present, lounging about the room—the stranger in whom Nello was later on to discover the Czar of all the Russias.

Golitzine did not introduce them, but he made a brief allusion. “We are going to have a rather confidential conversation, Signor, but you can speak freely before this gentleman. He is perfectly in my confidence.”

Nello bowed, feeling a little embarrassed. He would have been more at his ease if the tall stranger had not been present.

The Count proceeded in his smooth, conciliatory accents. “I hear very flattering accounts, so far, of your directorship. You have excited less envy than I expected, under the rather unusual circumstances. And you have also won some golden opinions. I am told that Madame Quéro, in particular, has distinguished you with a somewhat marked friendship. And she is reported to be a rather difficult woman to get on with. I know our late Director found her so, to his frequent annoyance.”

Nello blushed deeply. He was very sensitive, and it vexed him to find that his friendship with the handsome Spanish woman had been already commented on. If these comments had reached Golitzine, they had probably also reached the Princess Zouroff and her daughter.

“The relations between Madame Quéro and myself are, I am pleased to say, most cordial. Being the most distinguished member of the company, as she certainly is, it insures smooth working all round,” answered the young Italian.

“Quite, quite,” assented the suave Count. “Of course you have many opportunities of meeting and chatting. I hear that our friend, Prince Zouroff, is much chagrined that the charming lady in question is friendly with you. You have met the Prince, I presume. I should like to know your real opinion—of course in the strictest confidence.”

The flush on Corsini’s face deepened. He had met the Prince now on several occasions at different houses in the city, and that arrogant nobleman had always treated him with marked hauteur, hardly taking the trouble to acknowledge his polite salutation.

“I should say, your Excellency, that he is sadly deficient in the common courtesies of life.”

There was a subdued laugh from the man in civilian clothes, standing in the bay window. He turned round for a second and exchanged a meaning glance with the Count. Golitzine knew what that glance was intended to convey. “There was no love lost between these two.”

“I think, Signor Corsini, you have very pithily defined our friend’s deficiencies. If he could have controlled his somewhat brutal impulses and acquired a little more polish, he might have advanced farther in his career than now seems possible.”

There was a brief pause, which was broken by the Count.

“In the course of these chats with Madame Quéro, I dare say you learn a good deal of her general habits. Women are apt to get confidential with an agreeable male friend. I expect she has told you of those secret little parties to which only men are admitted, which she has at her villa?”

“I swear to your Excellency that to me she has never breathed a word of them.”

“I quite believe you, Signor. There is good reason why she should keep silence. Her last party was on Saturday night. The next time you are chatting with her, just mention it in a casual way, and ask her why she does not include you, the Director of the Opera, in her intimate circle?”

“I will certainly do so, Count,” replied Nello just a little piqued at the information he had received. It was strange that Madame Quéro had never invited him to one of these, presumably, select parties.

“By the way,” added the Count. “If she should ask you where you got your information from I must request you not to mention my name. Refuse to satisfy her curiosity. I have special reasons for this.”

Nello promised that he would obey the Count’s injunction, and rose to leave, under the impression that the interview was ended. But Golitzine waved him to his seat.

“Just a few moments more, Signor Corsini. I want to take you a little farther into my confidence. We all agree that you are a very capable artist, but I suppose you may sometimes have wondered why your way in this country has been made so very easy; why, in short, your success has been so rapid.”

“It has occurred to me many times, your Excellency, but I did not like to ask directly for an explanation,” replied the young violinist quietly. “I thought that would come at the proper time and place. Am I correct in assuming that I am to be given it now?”

“It shall be given you now,” answered the Count in an equally equable voice. “And I am going to speak very plainly, Signor Corsini. Salmoros admired your talent greatly; he told me that in a private letter, and he wished to push you for reason of that; but he also perceived in you different qualities that would serve his own purposes—purposes which are closely associated with the welfare of the Russian Empire.”

The Count suddenly rose and waved his hand in the direction of the silent man, lounging in the bay window.

“I am going to make a somewhat dramatic introduction. I present Signor Corsini, the protégé of Baron Salmoros, to the Emperor Alexander himself, who has been a silent witness of our interview.”

Corsini rose and bowed profoundly. Unused to the atmosphere of courts, he was bewildered as to the exact etiquette on such occasions. Ought he to kneel and kiss the Emperor’s hand? He had a hazy notion he had read somewhere that this was the prescribed ritual.

The Emperor put an end to his embarrassment by advancing and holding out to him that strong hand which could bend a horse-shoe between its fingers.

“I am delighted to welcome you, Signor. Salmoros has vouched for you. Our good friend, Golitzine, who is a keen judge of men, assures me that you are loyal and true to those who befriend you, as we have done.”

“My services, for what they are worth, are entirely at your Majesty’s disposal,” answered Corsini fervently. It was but natural he should be a little overcome by the gracious condescension of such a high personage. He was not even petty enough to be chagrined by the discovery that his sudden advancement was not due solely to his artistic genius.

The Emperor, having said just what was needful, retired to the seclusion of his bay window. The astute Count resumed the conversation.

“I trust, Signor Corsini, there are no reservations in your expressions of loyalty to those who have advanced and befriended you?”

“I am afraid I do not quite follow your Excellency.”

“Tut, tut, my good young friend. I am quite sure we shall understand each other very quickly. La Belle Quéro, according to report, is very enamoured of you—an artist like herself, a handsome and presentable young man; vastly, in my opinion, superior to the brutal Zouroff. Now, this important thing is—what are your sentiments towards her?”

Nello’s answer was very frank. “I have grown to look upon her simply as a kind and good friend.”

Golitzine drew a breath of relief. It was as he had hoped. The young musician had placed his fancy on one far removed from him, by rank and position. The comparatively coarse charm of the handsome singer could not compete with the youthful beauty of the Princess Nada. A benign expression stole over his lined face.

“And if you knew that Madame Quéro was taking advantage of the hospitality of this country, of her apparently neutral position, to conspire and plot with his Majesty’s sworn enemies, you would be hand and glove with us to find out what you could in order to frustrate her designs?”

“Assuredly, your Excellency.” Nello had started from his seat and spoken with fervour. “My duty and my allegiance is to the Emperor, yourself, and the Baron Salmoros. Madame Quéro, good friend as I believed her to be, counts as nothing.”

“That is precisely what I want to be assured of,” said the Count. “Now, Signor, put that question I suggested to Madame Quéro. It may be she will tell you a deliberate lie. It may be she will seek to entangle you in this plot, and make you one of the conspirators as the price of her favour. I should prefer that, but I think she is too clever to do it. Anyway, report to me how things go, which way they go. And I rely upon it, that you are a faithful servant of the House of Romanoff.”

Nello assured him that he was, and returned to his hotel full of thought.

So this was what the apparently benevolent Salmoros had secured him for, to be a spy of the Russian Government. At first he felt a little indignant. La Belle Quéro might be a traitress, a conspirator, but was it his mission to unmask her?

Then his shrewd Latin sense came to his aid. Whatever their ulterior motives, his powerful friends had incidentally helped him, and his bounden duty was to them. If the handsome Spanish woman, who should have no part or lot in the political concerns of Russia, had chosen to mix herself up with a lot of base intriguers, that was her business. It was, after all, diamond cut diamond.

Perhaps he was the more impelled to the cause which the wily Golitzine had urged him to take, by the rumour in the circles where he chiefly mixed that the names of Prince Zouroff and La Belle Quéro were generally coupled together. It was currently reported that as soon as the beautiful singer could get a divorce from her complacent fisherman, she would marry the Prince. But in Roman Catholic countries divorce is not easily to be obtained, and the fascinating Madame Quéro was still united to the lover of her youth. And according to further rumour, Zouroff was not inclined to hurry matters on. As a matter of fact, he was much more interested in other things. Perhaps, also, the lady was not quite so keen as formerly.

So Nello resolved to play his part, the part that it was his bounden duty to play. If the Spanish woman and her confederates were playing a low-down game, he was playing a straight one by outwitting them, in the interests of the Imperial House which had shown him such remarkable favour.

That night the two met, as Madame Quéro was going to her dressing-room. She had sung better than ever that evening, never had she aroused greater enthusiasm. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were glowing with triumph. She met Corsini’s cold glance, and her smile faded away.

“You do not seem very amiable to-night, Signor. Have I had the misfortune to offend you in any way?”

The appealing look she darted at him was certainly that of a woman more or less in love. For a moment, Nello felt a little ashamed of the part he had to play; it seemed cowardly to hurt a woman. But after all, his duty was to his benefactors, and if she was the traitress they alleged she deserved no mercy.

Nello bowed, but made no immediate response. He was on the point of moving away, when she laid a detaining hand upon his arm.

“Stay, I beseech you! Why are you so cold? I have sung better than ever to-night, and yet you offer me no word of congratulation. Many a time, when I have sung badly, you have been profuse of your praises, and I thought we were such good friends!”

Nello saw his opportunity at once. “I used to think, Madame, that we were very good friends.”

“And has anything happened to alter your previous opinion?” inquired Madame Quéro in a faltering voice.

Again the young Italian made a movement to pass on, and again the impetuous woman detained him.

“If you please, we will not leave it where it is, with studied coldness on your part. Please tell me how I have offended you.”

Nello spoke with exaggerated courtesy. “Madame, I am too humble to have the right to be offended. I, the mere Director of an Opera, you, one of the idols of Europe.”

The prima donna stamped an impatient foot. “Signor Corsini, you are trying my patience unduly. It is easy to see that you have some fancied grievance. Will you be good enough to explain what it is, or at any rate the nature of it?”

Corsini looked at her steadily. “Madame, you have been good enough to call me your friend. If that is the case, why have I not been invited to those little private suppers at your villa? So many go, that one more would not have made a serious addition.”

Her face went as white as death. “Who has told you such a falsehood?” she stammered.

Nello never took his eyes off her. The white face, the stammering tongue, proved that Golitzine was right. She had secret parties at her villa, and she was dismayed to find that anybody had heard of them.

“A friend of mine, whose name I must not reveal, Madame.”

Without another word Madame Quéro went to her dressing-room. From there she despatched a hasty note to Prince Zouroff.