VIVA ROMANSKI.

Otago Witness, Issue 2674, 14 June 1905, Page 82

VIVA ROMANSKI.

By E. Gladys Harvey.

(For the Witness.)

9! broken Japanese regiment lay encamped in the dark valley of Lacora. A fierce combat had earlier in the day raged between a thousand Russians and this handful of Japanese soldiers, and though the .guns of the Moscuvite had been silenced aad driven from their base, the little brown {men had used up all their strength, and te now lay overpowered with want of sleep and fatigue. Even, the sentinels were less alert than usual. ; Outside the tents the elements waged a fcattle that called all Nature's wildest and strongest forces into play. Heaven's artillery boomed overhead*; the lightning gleamed on wet tents, and flashed and quivered on the dark tree tops 7 while the Tain fell" in torrents. ■ —-- - >, ' One officer, an Englishman, who For love of . adventure had joined the Japanese ' forces, was watchful and alert. His superior .officer Jwas wounded-, hence his promotion lor ihe time being. 'So while the soldiers \reare resting, too worn out ,to be awakened "by the seething rain, he stood with eyes and ears ready to perceive any threatened danger. A stealthy hoof stroke sounded on t'ho wet turf; a pause, and then a figuretall and boyish-10-oking. crept past the sleepy sentinel and stood before the young soldier. The rain ran down the" young faoa and fell in great drops from the • muffled "throat. "Who are you, and what brings you here?" . "HuA!" "But I must know." ■A constrained silence seemed to wrap the new arrival in its grip. The officer, Cyril Hartley, spoke in Japanese, and the face before him grew still more clouded. Hs gave a sharp , exclamation in English, and . fche face of his visitor — a young and beautiful girl — suddenly brightened. " You speak English. lam so delighted. I have come m-aaiy versts to get speech of you. You fought a battle last week at Catokio, and you secujred a Russian prisoner, Ivan Romanski. - -May<l see him? I know my request -is unusual, but — oh, sir officer, -it means- so 'much to me. ' My mother is dv-iug, and her on© cry is for her heart's idol — her beautiful boy: In her -pain she tagged .me to- go from her Bud find her son— the "son who looks at lier /with his father's eyes. At last I could bear

her' entreaties no longer.. ,Sir, in' pity let " me 1 see my brother. If you have a mother, 'a sister, let their love soften your heart, "iet me carry, one loving message to the '.•"Woman standing in the shadow of death, »nd beating against her fate only that 'she cannot bear with her to the beyond a word froniler dear one!" -"•And you?" . " I but did their— her, behest.'* " Then I say that those who let 'you.come HT3 either mad or, pardon me, very igniorant. They know not the,- Japanese .hate to your race, or they 'would know that neither your womanhood' Bor your errand would appeal to them should you iave fallen into their hands." " But you — you are hot Japanese ! " "No; lam English. I held a oivil post an Tokio, but I suppose an Englishman's love of a: fight drew, me into the van, and * .to-night chance lias given me the command of, these troops while my superior officer, Major Katikia, is in the surgeon's hands." "And my brother?" *' He is in that stone building witQi four ©th«r Russians. Th© sergeant is also jwounded, and I am practically in charge. you will perceive, ths camp is at rest.: and now I wish you would go back. I must do my duty. Yet I would fain spare you. I beg you go back .without seeing you? brother." " No, I cannot dio that. 0 grant my bebest. I have undergone much for it. Clifton Hartley turned, and walked across to Jihe quarters indicated. One spluttering lantern went out, as if by design, as they .neared the entrance. He motioned his companion aside while he went ' forward to "iprepajt'p the prisoner : tihen he held the door oj>en while she entered. ' '• Remember, only 10 minutes. I am .doing wrong, but " The girl raised her eyes, glorious, deep, fend grey, with wet-fringed lashes, and Bpoke softly: "My mother is an Englishwoman ; let that help her daughter in her hiour of need."

The thunder still growled in the distant. mountains, and a slow drizzle had taken ,the place of the teeming downpour. Hartley had paced to and fro, fearing to enter the dark, strong building that was doing .duty for a cell, lest his footfall might awaken some of those whose authority he usurping. He had closed, not locked, the door, and he entered with just the tightest hesitation. The dim light from ■within fell on the slight r jure of the girl alone. Her eyes met Hartley's defiantly. •"Yes, I have taken my brother's place!" /' Good God, are you mad?"

"Perhaps I am; but the one I love best cries for the touch of her son's hand — fcr •his kiss. Don't blame Ivan ; he withstood my . persuasive powers— was dumb to my pleading — until I put. into his hand the scrawled nota of the mother he loves so well. Then 'he faltered, hesitated, and so 1 won. But he will return within a week. Do not fear that he will try to escape — he is a gentleman, and a soldier." And )>he lifted her head proudly, her eyes glowing with loyalty to her loved. " I am not thinking of your brother at all. It is you who axe in danger. Girl, do you know what you have done? These men I commauid hate your ra.ee, they are rough r.nd desperate, and nothing is sacred to them, I would net., for all I honour most

on earth, let you fall into their hands. You must escape, and that promptly." " But I- cannot ! Honour bids me stay." " I repeat, you must go at once, before your presence here is known." " Ivan has my horse. I told him where I had left him, and he is a mile away by now." " Listen to me. We must plan, and plan speedily, for there is not a moment to spare. Do jou ride well?" " I have ridden since I was a tiny child, and have no fear." " That is right. You must take my English charger and ride westward. He is strong and swift, and by daylight will be many miles from here ; the heavy rains will efface his hoofprints, and the soldiers will conoluda that your brother has escaped, and gone off with my horse. Your safety lies in that belief." "But. your horse — I cannot take him." "But you must ! What is a horse compared with a woman's life or fair name?" Viva Romanski looked up, and saw the dull red sweeping over the man's face. "Pardon me, Sir Englishman, but do not fear. lam well defended." And she drew- from her breast an Italian stiletto, and from the pocket of her waterproof a small Russian revolver of beautiful workmanship. •'See,", and her eyes met his unflinchingly, "I am prepared* for any and every emergency. Our name has gone down unsullied and unstained for over three hundred years, and I shall leave no bar on my father's escutcheon !" Hartley held out his hand, and the cirl placed hers within it with all the confidence of a child. "God guard and keep you, girl! And now, follow me." They crept out into the cold and rain to where an old barn did duty for a stable. Hartley entered the building, and led forth a beautiful horse, whose eyes gleamed in the darkness. A low whisper from his owner checked his excited whimpering. He was quiet at the low-voiced command. The Russian girl found the reins in her hand almost before she could realise anything. Then she settled into the seat as firm as a rock. She stretched out her hand. "I shall attempt no thanks to you, sir, for my heart would burst in the saying of them. Listen to me. The forests' of Idala are swarming with Japanese; if I get through to the Atati border I will fasten a piece of my waterproof flap in the stirrup bar, and let the horse go. You will understand; but your soldiers will think, I have been thrown and killed. If I ,any pursued and taken — well, your horse Trill 'return, to you without a token, and you will understand that too. You will know that all is well with me. When I return— if I return— to St. Petersburg, "I will send you a sealed but empty envelope. No one can learn anything from that. And now your name, please." "My name is Cyril Hartley, of Major Katiki's troops. And yours?" "Viva Romanski. Good-night, goodnight, and God bless you and bring you safely through this deadly campaign. I shall often think of you. Again, goodnight!" , Peace had settled over the land where a short time since the mountains had echoed to the cannon's roar. The stirring scenes were over, and the scarred earth was the only sign of what was now an historical war. It was all past, and the men who had taken part in that "blindfold game of war" had gone back to their cornhoeing and rice-growing. Those who had been drawn hither by the subtle fascination of the war fever had scattered to all paiis of the world. Cyril Hartley was but one of the many Englishmen who had thrown in their iot with the popular little Japanese soldiers, and, their victorious campaign ended, he returned to England. It was a lovely morning in September, and the Mercedes was two days out from Liverpool on her way to Capetown. Cyril Hartley was a passenger. He was on his way to take up a post in the Capetown Artillery. He had been on deck early, and was coming down to breakfast, when a puff of wind swept a handkerchief to his feet. He turned to restore it to its owner — a lady" sitting listlessly in a deck chair. She was gazing seaward, seeing nothing external, but her eyes were limpid with inner thoughts and sights. Her dark hair was loosely gathered into a Grecian knot, and she was plainly garbed in black. Hartley broke her reverie with the lacey wisp of muslin in his hand. A flash of light illumined the girl's face. "You !" Her voice was full of delighted surprise. "Viva!" And Cjiil caught and held her hand as if he would never let her go again. It was indeed a surprised meeting. Cyril briefly recounted all that had befallen him in his checkered career, and very soon a ripple of conversation came from that sunny corner. Viva Romanski readily responded and recounted her &ide of the story with ready verve. Cyril watched the shadows flit from her face as she unfolded the chapters of her life that had been- enacted since that memoi'able meeting and parting. Her mother was dead, but she had held her son. in her arms once more, thanks to her daughter's daring bravery, and her final parting with her beloved son had been all peacefulness. And Viva, she had fallen upon troublous times. She had spoken as she had felt, and had brought herself under the ban of Russian officialdom. She had fled to England, and through the influence of an Englishwoman whom she had once known in St. Petersburg, slie secured the post of teacher of languages in a fashionable ladies' school in Capetown. Viva had changed much since the night she had invaded the Japanese lines for love of a mother. Ihe girlish roundness had fled fiom her cheek j the bloom oi

youth had gone from her face, but she wis the sweeter for it. The shade of Lrovble , still lay in her dark eyes, for her brother's life had been given in Russia's grim struggle, and, the last of her race, she had to carry her crown of sorrow with a heart that ached in its loneliness. She bore herself proudly, bravely, as befitted '' a daughter of the Romanskis. 1 But Nature lightens all shadows, dis- , perses all clouds. Viva Romanski taught ' for one term only in the ladies' college at | Capetown. I One day Cyril Hartley came along with ' a little bit of a torn waterproof flap, and . a story that made Viva's eyes brighten and her cheeks flush. And the end of it all was that she transferred .her quarters from the school to a pretty little home overlooking Table Bay, where, as Hartley's I wife, she basks in the happiness of her husband's love.