Beyond the curtest salutations, neither the captain, Baggin, nor the calm Poltavo spoke. In Baggin's heart grew a new terror, and he avoided the count.
The sun beat down on the stretch of awning that protected the privileged three, but, for some reason, Baggin did not feel the heat.
He had a something on his mind; a question to ask; and at last he summoned his resolution to put it. He walked over to where the count sat reading.
"Ivan," he said--he had never so addressed him before--"is the end near?"
The count had raised his clear eyes when the other had come toward him; he smiled.
"There is only one variety," said Baggin steadily. "There is only one thing in the world that counts, and that is life."
"Not money?" asked the Russian, with a faint, ironical smile.
"Not money," repeated Baggin. "Least of all, money--but life!"
Poltavo arose. He had seen the flutter of a white skirt at the far end of the promenade-deck.
"Life," he said, with soft deliberateness, "is the least of all gifts, my friend. It is of no more consequence than the crystal of snow which is lost in the foul mud beneath our feet, or the drop of dew which is burned up by the ardent rays of the sun." He turned upon his heel.
The American plucked at his sleeve. "Then, what counts?" he demanded hoarsely.
"Nothing!" There was a certain mysticism in the count's gentle smile. "We are bewildered guests. Listen to the words of one of your own great countrymen." He quoted in a musical voice, looking out across the water:
"'I was not asked if I should like to come, I have not seen my host here since I came, Or had a word of welcome in his name. Some say that we shall never see him, and some That we shall see him elsewhere, and then know Why we were bid.'
"For myself"--he shrugged his shoulders with an expressive gesture--"it does not matter. I have been well amuse'." He strolled forward.
Doris, dressed all in white, was leaning against the rail. She drank in the fresh morning air eagerly. The wind had brought a faint tinge of colour to her cheeks, and the blue ribbon which she had bound about her hair to protect it from the ravages of the wind lent her an air almost of gaiety, which the count was not slow to observe.
"It is a glorious day," he said cheerfully. "And your father is better. I can read the good news in your face."