Afterwards, while there were other excuses for her departure which Nona struggled to invent, all were equally useless. From the first Barbara had guessed her plan. Although she had seen nothing and knew nothing of Nona's meeting with Katja the day before, she had immediately guessed that Nona's desire for a solitary excursion was in some way connected with her effort to find Sonya Valesky. And this effort the younger girl continued to oppose.
So Nona had finally departed, leaving Barbara in tears over her obstinacy and foolhardiness. She was very unhappy, but what else was possible for her to do? Had Barbara been in the same need that Sonya now was, surely no one could have persuaded her to turn her back upon Barbara.
Katja was waiting and fortunately there were but a few other persons in the Cathedral at the same hour.
As quickly and as intelligently as she knew how, the old woman explained that Sonya was in a civil prison in Petrograd and was to be tried for treason within another week. Katja had not seen her child, but had received a few lines in reply to a dozen letters which a friend had written for her. Katja herself could neither read nor write.
Although Nona could speak only a few words of Russian, she had learned to read a little of the language with difficulty. Now she managed to translate her friend's ideas, if not her exact words.
Sonya did not wish Katja to try to see her nor to attempt to appear at the prison at the hour of her trial. Nothing could be done for her release and Katja would only be made the more miserable. Neither was Katja to let Nona know anything of her whereabouts until after sentence was pa.s.sed. Then if Katja could find the American girl she was to say farewell for Sonya Valesky. She was also to thank Nona for her kindness and add that the acquaintance with her friend's daughter had brought Sonya much happiness.
Standing with the crumpled sheet of paper in her hand, written by the woman who so soon expected to say farewell to the things that make life worth living, Nona Davis felt her own cheeks flush and her eyes fill with tears. How little had she really deserved the Russian woman's affection, for how much she had distrusted her!
Well, Nona again determined to do all that was possible now to prove her allegiance.
As soon as she could get away from Katja, Nona secured a sleigh and drove at once to the house of the American Amba.s.sador. Because her card represented her as an American Red Cross nurse she felt a.s.sured that she would be treated with every courtesy.
This was perfectly true, although obliged to wait half an hour; finally one of the secretaries of the Amba.s.sador invited the American girl into a small office. She could not, of course, see the Amba.s.sador without a special engagement, but the secretary would be pleased to do whatever was possible.
Nona was both pleased and relieved. The secretary proved to be a southerner, a young fellow from Georgia, who could not have been more than twenty-five years old. Certainly it was far easier to tell the story of Sonya Valesky to him than to an older man or to one whose time was more valuable.
Nevertheless, when she had finished, although there was no doubt of the secretary's attention and interest, Nona found him equally as discouraging as everybody else had been concerning Sonya Valesky's fate and any part which she might have hoped to play in it. There could be little doubt that Sonya would be condemned to Siberia. She was a political prisoner and would not be tried by a military court.
Her offense was spoken of as sedition, or as an infringement of the "Defense of the Realm" act. For Sonya had been endeavoring to induce the Russian soldiers to join her peace societies rather than to fight for their country.
The young American secretary did his best to make the situation plain to Nona Davis. In England or France, under the same circ.u.mstances, Sonya Valesky might have escaped with only a short term of imprisonment or a fine. But this would not be true in Russia. Besides, it appeared that Sonya was an old offender and that her socialist ideas were well known.
It would be impossible for the American Amba.s.sador or any member of his staff to make the smallest effort in Sonya's behalf. Such an effort would represent an act of discourtesy on the part of the United States Government, as if she were attempting to interfere with Russia's treatment of her own subjects.
There was one thing only which the young secretary could undertake in Nona's cause. He would make an effort to have her allowed to visit her friend. If Sonya's trial was not to take place for a week, it was just possible that the American girl might be permitted to see her.
So Nona was compelled to go away with only this small consolation.
However, before leaving she secured the address of an American family in Petrograd who might be willing to take her as a boarder. For Nona realized that with her present plan she could not longer remain as a guest in the Countess' house.
Then Barbara had again to be reckoned with. It was early dusk when Nona Davis finally reached their apartment in the splendid Russian house.
Barbara had just finished tea, but the tea things had not been sent away.
Because Nona was evidently so tired and discouraged the younger girl comforted her with tea and cakes before beginning to ask questions.
Afterwards Barbara insisted upon being told the entire account of the afternoon's experiences. Nona must begin with her meeting with Katja, her interview in the Cathedral, then her visit to the house of the United States Amba.s.sador and finally the description of the place where she had engaged board before returning to her temporary home.
Although Barbara was ordinarily much given to conversation and frequent interruptions of other people's anecdotes, she listened without comment until the other girl had finished.
"We are both too tired to pack up our few possessions tonight, Nona,"
she answered in conclusion; "but we can attend to them in the morning and then say good-by to the Countess."
Nona was lying upon a divan with her yellow head sunk among a number of brown cushions, but she got half way up at Barbara's words.
"But I don't expect _you_ to leave here, Barbara dear, to go with me," she protested. "I didn't engage board for anyone else. The house where I am to stay is shabby and not especially comfortable. I wouldn't have you leave this lovely home for worlds! I am sorry, you may be a little lonely without me. But I am hoping we may hear from Mildred at almost any hour and then I'm sure the Countess would be only too happy to have her take my place here. I expect Mildred will be a distinguished character after having been chosen to nurse the great General Alexis."
"Don't talk nonsense," Barbara protested, in answer to the first part of her friend's speech. "Of course, I am not going to let you wander off and live in a strange family by yourself." Then Barbara sighed.
She was sitting on a small stool beside Nona's couch, resting her chin on her hand and looking very childish and homesick.
"Of course, I know you have to do whatever you can for Sonya Valesky, Nona," she agreed unexpectedly. "In your position I hope I would have the courage to behave in the same way. I have only made a fuss about things because I was worried for you, but I have always known you would not pay any attention to me. n.o.body ever does."
Although Nona laughed and attempted to argue this point, Barbara remained unconvinced.
"Oh, well, possibly d.i.c.k or Eugenia can sometimes be persuaded into doing what I ask, but never you or Mildred," she concluded, and then sighed again. "If we could hear just a single word from Mildred!"
The next day the two girls moved to their new lodgings. Their hostess was gracious enough, but made no protest when Nona explained that she expected to be permitted to visit the Russian prisoner within the next few days.
The order to see Sonya came sooner than Nona expected. Indeed, the two girls had only been in their new quarters for about thirty-six hours when the young secretary from the emba.s.sy called upon them. With him he brought the permit from the Russian government.
Nona was to be allowed to visit the prison near the Troitska bridge on the following day and to spend ten minutes with her friend. She must understand that a guard would listen to whatever conversation was held.
Also she must take with her nothing of any kind to present to Sonya Valesky. Their interview would be closely watched.
Naturally Barbara Meade insisted upon accompanying Nona. She knew, of course, that she would not be allowed to see the prisoner, nor had she the least wish to see her. But she could wait in some antechamber until the ten minutes pa.s.sed and then bring Nona safely back to their lodging place. For certainly the experience ahead of her friend would be a painful one, and although Nona did her best to conceal her nervousness from the younger girl, Barbara again was not deluded.
When the two girls set out for the prison the next afternoon it would have been difficult to decide which one most dreaded the ordeal. But in truth the ordeal was in a way a mutual one. While she waited, doubtless Barbara's imagination would paint as tragic a scene as Nona might be obliged to go through with.
It seemed to Nona Davis, after leaving Barbara, that she walked down a mile or more of corridor. The corridor might have been an underground sewer, so dark and unwholesome were its sights and smells. It led past dozens of small iron doors with locks and chains fastened on the outside.
Finally Nona's guard paused before one of these doors and then opened it. Inside was an iron grating with bars placed at intervals of about six inches apart. The room it barricaded was six feet square and contained a bed and stool. There was one small window overhead, not much larger than a single pane of gla.s.s in an average old-fashioned window.
But the light from the window fell directly upon the head of the woman who was seated beneath it.
Sonya Valesky had not been told that she was to receive a visitor. So perhaps Nona did appear like a sudden vision of a Fra Angelico angel, standing unexpectedly in the dark corridor with her hair as golden as a shaft of sunlight.
Sonya only stared at the girl without speaking. But Nona saw that her friend's dark hair, which had been a little streaked with gray at their first meeting more than two years before, was now almost pure white.
However, Sonya did not look particularly ill or unhappy; her blue eyes were still serene. Whatever faith in life she may have lost, she had not lost faith in the cause for which she must suffer.
"Don't you know me, Sonya?" Nona asked almost timidly, as if she were talking to a stranger.
Then the Russian woman came forward with all her former dignity and grace. She was wearing a black dress of some rough material, but it seemed to Nona Davis that she had never seen a more beautiful woman.
Sonya was like a white lily found growing in some underground dungeon.
She put her hands through the bars and took hold of Nona's cold ones.
"This is wonderfully kind of you, Nona?" she said with the simplicity of manner that had always distinguished her. "I have wanted to know what had become of you and your friends. Somehow information sifts even inside a prison in war times, and I have learned that General Alexis gave up trying to hold Grovno. You are on your way back home, I trust."
Nona could scarcely reply. It seemed so strange that Sonya could be talking in such an everyday fashion, as if her visit were being made under ordinary circ.u.mstances. Not a word did she say of her own sorrow or the tragedy that lay ahead of her.
Nona could only fight back the tears. "We are returning to France as soon as Mildred Thornton joins us in Petrograd," she answered, and then explained that Mildred had stayed behind at Grovno.
"But isn't there anything I can do for you, Sonya?" Nona added. "I shall certainly not leave Petrograd until after your trial, and then if you are released you must come away with me."
The older woman only shook her head.
"I shall not be released, Nona, so don't make yourself unhappy with false hopes. This is not my first offense against the government of Russia. I have never believed in the things in which they believe, not since I was a little girl. I suppose I am a troublesome character. But after all, in going to Siberia I am only following the footsteps of greater men and women than I can hope to resemble."