Red Stefan by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online Page A

which had given him his nickname curled vigorously. He looked the embodiment of cheerful health.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “Now this is the first thing I want to say. There hasn’t got to be any more of this dying business. It’s no use, because I’m not going to let you die. You’ve had a good try at it, and it’s got to stop.”
    â€œI didn’t,” said Elizabeth between tears and laughter. The calm way in which he was lecturing her, the kind look with its sudden embarrassing glint of tenderness, the very bright blue of his eyes, and those big square hands—she could have laughed, or she could have cried. How stupid to be so weak! But it was true that she had tried to die. His eyes accused her of lying. The lashes dropped over her own.
    â€œI didn’t.”
    â€œOh yes, you did.”
    â€œIt would save a lot of trouble,” murmured Elizabeth.
    â€œNo, it wouldn’t. You know, you’re wasting time being obstinate like this. Akulina will come back before we’ve got anything settled. Now just listen to me. You want to die because you’re feeling weak. That old Petroff woman starved you, didn’t she?”
    Elizabeth made no reply. It was all too bitter and too near. Bread of insult and water of servitude—bitter water and bitter bread.
    â€œNow that’s all over,” said Stephen. “It’s all over, and you’ve not got to think about it again. As soon as you feel stronger you’ll want to live all right. You’re not really a coward.”
    A tear crept down amongst the dark lashes.
    â€œPerhaps I am.”
    â€œNo, you’re not. You’ve got plenty of grit, and I want you to show it. You see—” his voice changed and became warm and friendly—“you see, I want you to help me, and the very first thing I want you to do is to get well, because staying here isn’t going to be very safe, and we can’t get away till you’re well enough. Am I tiring you?”
    Elizabeth blinked away the tear.
    â€œNo. I’m stupid—I’ll try and get well.”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œYes.”
    He took her hand, held it for a minute, and then laid it gently down again.
    â€œThat’s right! You’re ever so much better, you know. Now listen! You can’t be dumb here. For one thing, it’ll make people talk too much. You know what villages are—everyone buzzing round and saying, ‘Fancy—Stefan Ivanovitch has picked up a dumb wife!’ And half the men asking me where you came from, and whether there are any more to be had.” He laughed a little. “And then, apart from the gossip, it’s no go, because you talked in your sleep and Akulina heard you.”
    â€œWhat did I say?” said Elizabeth, her eyes wide and startled.
    â€œNothing to matter.”
    â€œDid I speak English?”
    â€œAkulina wouldn’t know what it was. Besides, she won’t talk. But I don’t think you’d better be dumb—it isn’t necessary. The talk here is a good bit mixed up anyhow. We’re over the Ukrainian border, you know.”
    â€œAkulina talks Russian to you—”
    â€œYes. She’s a Ruthenian, from White Russia. She was born and bred on the Darensky estate, and her daughter Katinka went back there when she married. Yuri is a Ukrainian. Are you any good at acting?”
    Her lips moved into that faint smile.
    â€œYes, I think so.”
    â€œVery well then, here’s your part. You come from East Russia. Your father and mother are dead, and you were trying to find your brother, who is in the Red Army. Your name is Varvara. You don’t need to talk about any of this, but you’ve got to know it so as to have a proper background in your own mind. Whilst you’re lying here, make pictures of your father and mother and the brother you’re looking for. Your mother’s name was Marya, and your father was