Chapter XXXIII.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6048, 8 December 1897, Page 1

Chapter XXXIII.

BAD COMPANY. " Well," I managed to ejaculate, standing quite still, without moving a muscle. I saw that his attitude was one of determination, and that he had been joined by a ruffianly-looking companion who had emerged from the undergrowth as if by magic. My only thought was of my past life. How had I been able to bear the suspicion and suspense so long ? I had borne it because the star of hope had glimmered in the darkness. And now the star had vanished, and the hope was dead. Darkness had fallen upon my soul, and a storm rose within it like the chill whirling wind that swept across the steppe at dead of night. I could not think ; I forgot where I was, forgot everything except my anger. My heart was full of blind despair. I ras conscious that the gaol-bird spoke. He was demanding my money, and threatening to put a bullet through my head, if I refused. "I promised you money on condition that you took me to Sonia Korolenko," I answered. "I am ready to pay yon when you have fulfilled your part of the contract." Both men laughed heartily. "We have no knowledge of her," declared the man who had been my guide. " All we know is that you have money; if, you don't hand it to us quietly your grave will be in yonder heap of dead leaves." "He'll be. company for the others," observed the man with a fox-like countenance who had joined us, and was leaning upon an old Berdan rifle. " Then I understand you have brought me here, to this spot, on a false pretence. You mean to rob me?" I said. "You assured me that you were Soma's messenger, and so implicitly did I trust you that I left my revolver behind at the inn. "That is no affair of ours," answered the old scoundrel, shrugging his shoulders unconcernedly. "Hand us over your money, and we are ready to guarantee you safe conduct, either on into Germany or back to Skerstymone." " I'll pay you nothing, not even a rouble _a vodkxra, until you take me. to your leader," I answered defiantly, for somehow I had from the first been convinced of the truth of the man's assertion that Sonia was in that neighbourhood. "As we are unable to conduct you to the lady, whoever she is, we shall therefore be compelled to use violence," observed my guide, glancing at his companion, who nodded approvingly. Then, still holding the muzzle of his weapon to my .face, he added with brutal frankness: "You'd _etter make the sign of the cross now if you want to. It will be the last -chance you'll get. When a man's dead and buried he can tell the police nothing." Well I knew the desperate character of these brigandish nomads, and fully recognised that they were not to be trifled with. " The people who come to us for aid never get across the frontier unless they part with their money first," he continued. "If they don't—well, we put them to. rest quietly and unceremoniously, and give them decent burial. A good many of all sorts, rich and poor, lie buried in these woods. You asked me whether it was a paying profession," he laughed. "Judge for yourself." He still spoke with that unaffected carelessness that had impressed me when we had first met outside the dingy little "traetir" in Skerstymone. " Come/ cried the ragged fox-faced man, impatiently, with an accent ofSouth Eussia. "We have no time to waste.; we have many versts before us-ere dawn." " Then you had better he off • and leave me to find my way back as best ;I can," I said, endeavouring to preserve an-outward show of calmness. Some noise, so faint that I did not distinguish it, caused both outlaws to hold their breath and listen. They.exchanged •quick glances. They had wandered thousands of versts across the "taiga" and the steppe, and constantly on the alert to evade Cossack patrols and police they knew every sound of the forest. They had learnt to know the voice of the .wood; the speech of every tree. The great firs rustle with their thick hows, the dark gloomy pines whisper to one another in mystery, the bright green leafy trees wave their dewy branches, and the mountain ash -trembles with the noise like a faintly rippling brook. They knew, to irheir disgust, 4*>o, how those spies of the frontier, -the magpies, .hover in crowds over "the track: of the man who tries in daylightto creep unseen across the bare open steppe. It was flovident that the noise had for an instant puzzled them; yet after listening a moment both became reassured, rand re-demanded with many violent threats whatever money I had upon me. "I tell you I refuse," I answered. "If you take me to Sonia you shall get .your two hundred roubles each, with twenty more na vddko_/* "Then you do not wish to live?" exclaimed the man who had so cunningly •entrapped me. "I will gi>7e you nothing," I said resolutely. " Then take that!" he cried, wildly, and at the same time his revolver flashed close tO T3PJT £ —CO. " The shot echoed far away among the myriad tree-trunks, but the bullet passed liarmlessly by say ear. Ere he could fire a second time I sprang upon him, and clutching him by the throat with one hand, with the other grasped the wrist of the sinewy hand that held the revolves. It was a struggle for life. Again my antagonist drew the trigger, but the weapon was exploded in mid-air. Then his companion flung himself unon me in an endeavour to drag me off. This he was unable to do, and apparently fearhig lest I should sueosed in wresting tho weapon from his accomplice's grasp and nse it against him, feo sought to stun me by raining blows with his clenched fist upon my head. A third time the ruffianly assassin's revolver went off with loud report, but doing no harm. At that moment, however, I was conscious that my strength was failing me. I was muscular, but against this pair of .hulking brutes I had no chance in a contest „_f mere physical power. The repeated blows upon zny skull dazed _S3, but hearing shouts resounding- in the darkness, I held on with grim dogged courage, with the faint hope that they might be Cossacks. In the dim light I could distinguish figures moving rapidly Jjene-th the trees. The forest seemed su_dc_ly alive with men, but at that instant the fox-faced raflian, finding his efforts unavailing, stepped back a pace or two, arid ]owering\his rifle, took deliberate , aim at my breast. I closed my eyes tightly and held my breath. A shot rang out, followed by a burst of wild sbontipg, b.ut finding myself nn-

harmed, I opened my eyes again. In terror I glanced up, and saw my fox-faced assailant lying face downward. The cowardly villain had evidently been shot at the very instant he had coveredme with his Berdan. Half-a-dozen men sprang forward, and wrenching the revolver from the scoundrel who had attempted to take my hf o, seized him in their strong grasp, while I, breathless and exhausted, struggled np from my knees,amazed at my sudden and unexpected delivery. Some twenty men, an ill-dressed ruffianly crowd, in patched cloaks and dirty gray caps covering their long hair, surrounded me, talking excitedly, bestowing opprobrious epithets upon the man who lay wounded and groaning, and as I turned suddenly in wonder, I was confronted by a peasant woman in a short skirt of some dark stuff, an ill-fitting striped bodice, with a dirty handkerchief tied about her head. She uttered my name, and in an instant I recognised her. It was Sonia. " I arrived only just in time to save you," she explained half breathlessly in English. '-The shots attracted lis. That villain Stepanovitch whom I sent into Skerstymone to bring you here no doubt intended to take your money and decamp, but fortunately we caught him redhanded. He has long been suspected of doing away with people entrusted to his care for conduct across the frontier, but I never believed hi«n capable of treating any of our friends as victims." " He fired at me point-blank," I said, "although I was unarmed." •" What shall we do ' with him, little mother ?" cri«d the excited crowd of burly malefactors, dragging the man before the notorious woman with pleasant countenance, sonorous voice, and lively manners, whom they acknowledged as leader. "Tie him wp to yonder tree, and let him be shot," answered Sonia, pointing out a lofty pine. "Pick a marksman from, among yourselves, and do not shout so loudly. Only one shot must be fired, for I believe the guards are lurking about tonight, and more may attract them. With yells of execration the crowd hurried away the unfortunate wretch who had so treacherously treated the friend of their leader, and ere a couple of minutes had elapsed he had been secured to the tree. Then they commenced haggling among themselves as to who should fire the fatal shot. It was a weird scene, this summary justice directed by a woman. The choice fell at last upon a tall hulking fellow in ragged coat and a hat of dirty sheepskin, who, addressed by the nickname of "the goat," on account of the shape of his beard, lifted his gun with a jeering remark at the cowering wretch and stepped back to take more deliberate aim. " No," I cried, " don't let him be shot on my account, Sonia. Give him his life." She shook her head, saying simply : "He betrayed my trust." "I ask you to forgive him," I urged. " At least grant me this favour." She was undecided, and the outlaws, hearing us speak in English, called to their tall champion to stay his hand. " Very well," she said, at last. " I forgive him because you plead." Without a word I pushed past the men surrounding us, and taking out my pocketknife severed the cord that held the terrified wretch. The old scoundrel, dropping upon his knee, kissed my hand amid the loud jeers of his rough brutal companions, then | regaining his feet, took off his cap, and looking towards heaven, made the sigh of rthe cross. "This, I hope, will be a lesson, Stepanovitch," exclaimed Sonia sternly, in Eussian, advancing towards him. " I forgive you only because of the request of the Englishman. Eemember in future that this person of any friend of mine, or any of our brothers, is sacred." " Yes, I will, matdushka," answered the old villain, penitently, " That I will. I owe my life to his high nobility's intercession. I will not again offend, little mother." "Very well," she answered, abruptly, then briefly explaining how they had just returned from a hazardous trip across the frontier, during which they were detected and followed by a Cossack picket, she .gave the order to return home, and we moved forward in single file along the narrow secret paths that wound with so many intricacies through the dark gloomy forest. As I walked behind her we chatted in English, she telling me how she had been compelled to leave London, unexpectedly, and relating how she had fared since Aye had last met. She, ihowever, made no mention of the nefarious trade she had adopted, and I hesitated to refer to it. When at length we emerged from the forest, the wounded man being assisted along by his companions, it was near morning. The darkness had gradually become less intense, the stars shone more faintly, and a streak of dawn showed on the far-off horizon. The pale light revealed grassy plains as far as the eye could reach, and the fresh morning breeze swept softly over the thick green grass that promised an abundant hay crop, such as the dwellers on the broad Kovno plains had longed for for many years. Soon after leaving the forest, however, the party separated, arranging as meeting place wliem the moon rose on the marrow the third verst-post out of Wezajce, a small village five miles distant. All her associates, Sonia explained, lived in villages in the vicinity, scattering themselves in order to avoid detection by the authorities. The villagers themselves, although well aware of their doings, said nothing. To all inquiries by Cossack fron-tier-guards or police spies they remained d_mb, for the simple reason that while contraband trade could be transacted the village thrived, each of these small, wretched little places receiving indirectly a portion of the outlaw's profit. In summer there were no empty barns or thistlegrown threshing-floors, and in winter the stoves in the huts were always burning, 1 and >the_ " bosrtch," or soup, was neverwithout its proper proportion of buckwheat ; gruel. Many were the rumours of missing travellers and violent deaths in that neighbourhood, but the villagers feared nothing from this adventurous gang, who had grown more bold now that they were led by their " little mother." From what I gathered from my fair companion as we pushedforward together towards the dim line of trees that bounded the steppe in the ; direction of the sunrise, it seemed that the band had been in existence for several years/but that a few months before, the 'leader, a well - known escaped convict, was shot dead lay a picket while creeping by day across the Zury steppe, and that a proposal had been sent to her at Skerstymone, where she was hiding, that she should become their head. She admitted with a smUe that the men who had just left us to return to their various occupa_ons were all of bed character, and that almost without exception all had served long terms of imprisonment for robbery or murder. "Bu_ is not the assassination of those who have paid for guidance into Germany quite unjustifiable ?" I exclaimed reproachfully, as we walked side by side across the long, dewy <:rass. ■" How can 1 prevent it ? " she asked. " I do all I can to preserve the lives of our clients, but with men of their stamp it is impossible to stop it. Nearly every one of the brotherhood would slit a throat with as little, compuuetion as lighting his cigarette ; first, because it avoids the risk of crossing the boundary, and secondly, because of the money the victim has in his

pockets. --Again, persons who accept ou escort are not tho^e persons after whom any inquiry i* made. When they are missed, their friends naturally conclude they've fallen into the hands of the police or have escaped abroad and fear to write. Stepanovitch, for instance, does not obtaintho rolls of notes he sometimes has by im porting contraband goods, neither could he afford to keep a snug house down in Ludwihow, where he spends the winter and is regarded as a highly respectable member of the Mir." " He is an assassin, then ?" Sonia smiled and shrugged her shoulders. We were approaching a small village with a background of high pine trees situated on the edge of the great treeless plain. Its name was Sokolini.she told me. Once, in the days of serfdom, it had been the property of a landowner, but now enjoying liberty, its emancipation was attested by its half-ruined huts, whose bulging walls and smoke-blackened timbers were supported by wooden props. There were not more than thirty houses, all of a similar squalid miserable c-harac • ter, and as we entered the tiny place the cocks were crowing in the yards, for the sun was by this time fully risen. " Five miles through yonder forest as the crow flies brings us into German territory," she said, indicating the dense wood behind the houses, then pausing before the door of one of the tumble-down huts, pushed it open and invited me to enter. The interior was one square room, with huge brick stove, .the flat top of which served as bed iri winter, a low sloping ceiling and two small windows with uneven panes of greenish glass that imparted to the rays of light a melaucholy greyish tint. The bare miserable place was poorly furnished with wooden chairs, a rickety table, and a very old moth-eaten sofa covered with velvet that was once red, but now of faded brown. Over the door was nailed a cheap, gaudy ikon, and on the opposite wall was pasted a crude woodcut of His Majesty fhe Czar. > The room was, indeed, in strange contrast to the dainty little drawing-room in Pembroke Road. While I threw myself into a chair, worn out by fatigue, she removed the ugly wrapper from her head, and, disappearing into a little inner-den, the only other room in the "house, soon reappeared with a steaming samovar, afterwards handing me tea with lemon. The pale yellow sun struggling in through the thick green panes, fell in slanting rays across the carpetless room, and as we sat opposite one another sipping our cups we looked at each other curiously. Ours had, indeed, been a strange meeting. She burst out laughing at last. " Well," she said, " I see you are surprised." " I am. I did not expect you had exchanged your life in London for this," I exclaimed. " Ah ! I was horribly tired of inactivity there. I had spent all my money, and could do nothing in your country. It is a drawback to be too well-known," she laughed. " But surely this life is attended by very serious risks," I observed, noticing, as the sunlight fell across her hair, that she was still as handsome as ever, notwithstanding her ugly peasant costume and clumsy boots. "Yes," she answered reflectively. " Perhaps, in a little while, when I have made more money I shall leave here and return to London. One cannot live without money." '• True," I answered. " Yet life here must be terribly dull and monotonous after Vienna and Paris." " Ah !" she cried, with the slightest suspicion of a sigh. " All that I have forgotten long, long ago." Her eyes were downcast, and I thought I detected tears in them. I gazed at her, this woman who was known in nearly every capital in Europe as one of the most daring and enterprising adventuresses of the century, half -fearing that she might still refuse to disclose her secret. Chapter XXXIV. OUTCAST. She moved slightly, raised her cup to her lips ivith a coquettish air, and on setting it down her dark bright eyes again met mine with inquiring glance. " Well," she exclaimed, " Is it not strange that you, of all men, should be in Skerstymone ?" " I came to seek you/ I said, looking earnestly into her pretty face. " For what .reason ?" " Because by your aid rilone can I regain my lost happiness," 1 answered in deep earnest-ess. "Once, before you left London, you made certain allegations against Ella ; but you failed to substantiate them, or to fulfil your promise in exchange for your passport." " Yes, I remember;" " She is now my wife, and I have come to hear tho truth from -your own lips, Sonia." " Your wife!" she gasped, glaring at me. "Has — has she actually dared to marry you?" "Yes," I answered. "She has dared, be- , cause she loves me." ! She remained silent, -with knit brows, for a long time engrossed an thought. Then briefly I told her how, after her departure, we had married, and related how suspicion -had been aroused within me by her clandestine meetings with Cecil Bingham, her flight, and my subsequent discovery .of her true position. "Then you are aware who she really is," she observed, slowly at last. "That she has dared to enter into a matrimonial alliance with you is certainly astounding. Indeed, it is incredible":" " Why ?" 1 inquired, in surprise. "There are the strongest .reasons why she should —ever have become your -ivife," she replied, ambiguously. " She lives apart from me. She has returned to her house in Paris," I said. "Ah!" it is best," she answered, mechanically. « It is best for both of you. 1?i " But we love one another, and although she fears to tell me the truth regarding all this mystery that has enveloped her for so long, you, nevertheless, are in a position to explain everything. Therefore, I have come to you. You were my wife's friend Soma," I went on. " Tell me why she has acted with all this secrecy." " Her friend ! " she echoed blankly " Yes you are right/ she sighed, "it was a strange friendship, ours ; she, a Grand Duchess against whom never a word' of scandal had been uttered, and I— well I was notorious. The people in Vienna and Paris pointed at me in the streets, the fashionable women copied my manners and my dress Yet there was, nay there still is a strong tie between us, a tie that can never be severed. « Tell me of it," I urged, when, pausing, she turned her pale and agitated face away from me towards the small grimy window that overlooked the great sunlit steppe. " Once I believed she was your enemy and told you so. I feared that because of her position she would never marry Y ou Yet it seems she vas really in earnest' therefore I now withdraw that allec-ation S3ie evidently loves you." ° "Yes, but we are living apart because she tears the revelation of some terrible secret if she acknowledges me as her husband." " And that is why you have come hereto learn of her past! " she cried in a hoarse

hollow voice, as if the truth had suddenly I dawned upon her. I nodded gravely in the affirmative, ! then told hei' of our meeting in Paris, ! and her refusal to make any satisfactory explanation. "I envied Elizaveta once," she said reflectively at last. " I envied her because she was so supremely happy in your love. Yet it now seems as if I, degraded outcast that I am, have even more happiness and freedom." " You were once her friend — she visited yon every day. You can be. her friend now; and by telling me the truth, bring joy and confidence to both of us. -You cau make our lives happy, if you only will." "No," she answered coldly, her face hard aud set. There was a cruel look in her eyes. "Why should I? Why should I strive for the happiness of one to whom I owe all my grief and des2«tir ?" " Surely no misfortune of yours is due to her ?" I protested quickly. "Misfortune!" she wailed, her eyes flashing. " Would you not call the loss of the man you love, misfortune ?" Then, in quieter tones she added with a sigh : " Ah, you don't know, Geoffrey, how intensely bitter my strange, adventurous life lias been. You believe, no doubt, that a woman of my character cannot love. Well, I thought so once. But I tell you that in London I loved one man ; the only man I ever met that I could marry. I had renounced my past, and sought to lead a new life when I knew that he cared for me, and was preparing to make me his wife. But she, the Grand Duchess who tricked you so cleverly, came between us, aud we were parted. Then I came here to Russia, sought solace among my former companions, the scum of the gaols and ghettos, and have now descended in despair to what I am. By her, the woman yon ask me to free from a terrible thi'aldom, I have been thrust back into hopelessness, and have lost for ever the one chance I had of joy and love." Then, covering her handsome face with her hands, she burst into a torrent of teal's. " Come," I said, rising, and stroking her soft silky hair. Her arms were upon the i table, and she had buried her head in them, sobbing as if her heart would break. " Come, do not give way," I urged. " Who was the man yon loved ?"■ " That concerns no one but myself," she murmured, "Even she has never had proof that we love one another. Yet to her is due all this grief that has fallen upon me." Raising her head, she strove to suppress her emotion, as her brilliant tear-bedewed eyes fixed themselves steadily upon mine. " I may perhaps be able to assist you," I said. " I did on a former occasion." *' No," she answered, in a voice of intense sorrow. "I have now grown careless of myself, careless of life, careless of everything since I left London. With the man I loved so truly I could have been happy always, yet she knew my past, and would allow me no chauce to redeem myself. It is but what I deserve, I suppose, therefore I must suffer. But can you wonder that, hating the world as I do, I entertain a certain grim satisfaction of being leader of this ragged ruffianly band of frontier freelances ? " " No," I answered, echoing her sigh ; " I am scarcely surprised, yet I cannot think that my wife, who was your friend, would willingly serve you as you believe." " She did," Sonia answered, again raising her sad dark eyes. " She alone have Ito thank for the sorrow that has wrecked my life." " What was the name of the man you loved ?" I asked. "Do I know him ?" " Yes, you know him ; but his name is of no consequence," she answered, evasively, in a low voice, lowering her eyes. "My secret is best kept in my own heart." "If my wife -did it unintentionally, without knowing- yon were lovers, there is some excuse," I said, half apologetically. " No," she answered, with a sudden harshness. "No excuse is possible. There ! were other circumstances which rendered her conduct unpardonable." " I really can't believe it," I said. " I feel certain that she would never have exposed you willingly." " Alas !" she said, at last, " Tbe evil is done now, and the stigma cannot be removed. Bnt you asked me to reveal certain facts that would place her mind at rest, restore her confidence, and give her freedom. I have told you. I have made a confession to you that no other person has had from my lips." "Ah, do not be pitiless," I cried imploringly, feeling assured that she alone knew the truth. Her assertion that she could restore my wife to freedom, meant, I knew, the removal of that dark cloud of suspicion and dread that overshadowing her, held] her spell-bound by fear. "Think," I; urged, standing close to her, my hand resting upon the bare unpolished table. " Once when you came to me, a stranger, and I ; rendered you a service, you promised to perform one for me in return when I desired it. lam now sorely in need of your friendship, and have come to you for aid." "We shall befriends always, I hope, Geoffrey," she answered quietly, pushing back her dark hair from her brow. Her head was untidy and her hair tangled, for so callous had she grown that she took; no heed either of attire or personal appearance. "Then you will, at least, fulfil your promise," I said. " No," she replied with dogged firmness. "In this matter I absolutely refuse. I know how weary arid wretched your lire must be, with mystery surrounding you a3 it does, and being compelled to live apart from the woman you love; but frankly, the fact that her cold, proud, Highness; fears to acknowledge you, or tell you the truth, is a source of satisfaction to me. She has sown dissension and is now reaping her harvest of tears." The cankerworm of earo was eating out my heart, and I resolved to make one final appeal to her better nature, albeit I saw from her demeanour how embittered she was against Ella. "No effort have I left unattempted to seek some solution of the problem," I said. " Yet all is unavailing. I have sought the truth from Cecil Bingham, but he refused to utter one word, and referred me to you. He said you knew all." "Cecil Bingham!" she cried, suddenly starting. "Do you know him ? He was your wife's friend. " " Yes," I answered " I know that, although I am unaware of the true character of their relationship." "All!" she ejaculated, and I thought she winced beneath my words. "He sent you here?" " Yes," I said. " But before seeing him I had endeavoured to obtain some facts from another of Ella's acquaintances, Andrew Beck." "Andrew Beck?" she repeated in a hollow voice, her brows contracting as if the mention of liis name was unpleasant to her ears. " You were jealous of him, once, " she added in a hard, dry tone. " Yes, " I smiled. " But lamso no longer. '"' " Why ? I thought :rom what Ella told vie long ago, that you had some cause. jr 0 certainly was one of her admirers. " " Yes. But he's about to be married. " " Married .' " she cried wildly, starting to her feet, her lips moving convulsively. « Andrew Beck ? " I nodded, for a moment surprised ; but, suddenly remembering, I took from my pocket-book the newspaper cutting announcing the engagement. Eagerly her strained eyes read the three |

formal lines of print, then hastily crushing tbe piece of paper iv her. hand she cast it-trom her with a gesture of anger. Her ra'.-e was jmle and determined, her thin hands, no longer loaded with rings as they once had been, twitched nervously, aud I could plainly see the strange convulsion that tho unexpected intelligence had caused within her. - - "Do youkuow the— the girl who is to bo Jus wife ?" she stammered presently. „ "No, we have never met," I answered. " His marriage does not, however concern us for the moment. It is of Ella and her strange secret that I seek knowledge. Tell me the the truth, Sonia., so that I may be able to place within her hand a weapon wherewith to combat this mysterious enemy she fears." .There was a long pause. Her breath came and went in hot convulsive gasps. Her hands were so tightly clenched that their nails were driven "into the palms.her mouth was firmly set, and in her eyes was a cold stony stare. The knowledge of Fejk's intended marriage had aroused within her a veritable tumult of passion. " The truth !" she cried hoarsely at last, i her hand upon her throbbing breast. " You ask me to clear suspicion from i the woman whose whim it has been to marry you and I refused, because 1 should bring her happiness and remove from her the terror that now holds her enthralled. But I have reconsidered my decision. I " " Ah, tell me !" I exclaimed, interupting her in my eagerness. " I will speak because my disclosures, remarkable though they may be, will not only bring peace to you and your wife,, but will also prove a trifle disconcerting to her companions. Once they hunted me from town to town as a criminal ; they will now beg to me for mercy upon their knees." "Tell me. Do not conceal the truth longer," I cried anxiously. " No. Only in Elizaveta's presence will I speak," she answered, in a strained voice that quivered with violent emotion. " Let us start for Paris to-night. When the moon rises I will guide you through the forest into Germany ; we can cross the Jura by the bridge beyond Absteinen, and from Tilsit take train to Berlin. In two days we can be in Paris. Take me to her," she said with sudden eagerness, " and you shall both learn facts that will astound you." j "lam quite ready," I said, " I knew you alone would prove my friend." "No/* she answered, regarding me gravely. " No, Geoffrey. It is a secret full of grim realities and ugly revelations which when disclosed will, I f 6 ar, cause you to bate me and count me among your enemies. But you seek the truth; you shall therefore be satisfied." (To. be concluded.)