There were too many
details--too much statistic, and no thrilling realism whatever. The
experiences of a youthful curate in Bethnal Green would have made high
tragedy beside the tale that this man told his wife of the land upon
which God has assuredly laid His curse--Aceldama, the field of blood.
Etta listened, and despite herself she became interested. She was
sitting in a chair usually occupied by Steinmetz. There was a faint
aroma of tobacco-smoke. The atmosphere of the room was manly and
energetic.
Paul showed her his simple stores of medicine--the old coat saturated
with disinfectants which had become the recognized outward sign of the
Moscow doctor.
"And do other people, other noblemen, try to do this sort of thing too?"
asked Etta at length.
"Catrina Lanovitch does," replied Paul.
"What? The girl with the hair?"
"Yes," answered Paul. He had never noticed Catrina's hair. Etta's
appraising eye had seen more in one second than Paul had perceived in
twenty years.
"Yes," he answered. "But, of course, she is handicapped."
"By her appearance?"
"No; by her circumstances. Her name is sufficient to handicap her every
moment in this country. But she does a great deal. She--she found me
out, confound her!"
Etta had risen; she was looking curiously at the cupboard where Paul's
infected clothes were hanging.
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