The Green Book Part 21

"But I give you one piece of advice: See that you keep as far off as possible from the Czar at the concert, that he may not recognize his own order."

"Bah! how is he to single out one amid the forty that will be there?"

"I tell you this much, that the Czar is an expert in precious stones. So make a point of keeping in some obscure corner."

"Well, I will be your obedient son. I am pleased with you to-day, father. It is no light matter to have such a sensible parent to come to.

I grant you permission to give me a kiss. Adieu! Good-day, Herr Sujukin.

Pray continue where you left off."

Meanwhile the death's-head had been chewing something between his teeth, perhaps a criticism, while the young man was making a clean breast of it. "A good many things to strike out with the red pencil there,"

thought he to himself. The father gazed for some time at the half-open door; then, turning to Sujukin:

"A fine, handsome boy, is he not? A merry fellow. His worst fault is that he knows how much I love him."

"He only needs a little of the red pencil! But to return to the story of that red pencil."

"You shall have satisfaction, Vasul Sergievitch! Leave the matter to me.

I will place the _corpus delicti_ in the Czar's own hands, and can a.s.sure you that the culprit will bitterly repent his offence! As though his first intemperate actions, which he paid for by the confiscation of his property and his banishment to Odessa, were not sufficient reminder, he requites the clemency of the Czar, who permitted him to return home, with these fresh excesses; but we will find a means of settling with him. Be comforted, Vasul Sergievitch. To-morrow morning Master Pushkin will find himself on his way to Uralsk."

"Irkutsk is farther!" said the Censor, who could not refrain from improving on Araktseieff's verdict.

"But Uralsk is worse! Believe me, Uralsk is an awful garrison for an officer to be disgraced to. In ten years' time no woman would recognize him. From a gay b.u.t.terfly he will come back transformed into a hairy caterpillar--like our friend Jakuskin!"

The death's-head was satisfied to leave matters to him--_Typis admitt.i.tur!_--and went back to the reception-rooms to administer a parting shot to the Frenchman. After the encouraging words of the President of Police his horns had grown so fast that he felt as if they would reach to the artist perched aloft.

"I forbid you to paint a figure of Death before his Majesty's very feet.

It will give the whole fresco an ominous meaning."

But the artist continued undisturbed to paint in his figure of Death; and the face was the counterpart of that of the Censor.

CHAPTER XV

THE CZAR SMILES

Only as Pushkin reached home did he begin to meditate over what he had done. He did not for a moment hesitate as to the consequences of his rash act. A man only just permitted to return from exile in Bessarabia, whither his hot head had banished him, and even then but received in semi-favor at court, could not expect other from his recent scene with the sacred person of the Censor than to be deported to some fortress on the Volga, or to guard the Kirghis Pustas, where he would be forever lost to sight and mind. He therefore set to work at once addressing P.P.C. cards to his friends; on that to Zeneida he added, "pour jamais."

When once he received marching orders, there would be no time for such things. The report of the a.s.sault had quickly made the round of the town; such news is sure to spread quickly. Among his many friends there was but one who found his way to him on hearing of it; that one was Jakuskin.

"Well, friend, now you, too, will make acquaintance with the Caucasus.

You would do well to have your portrait taken at once, that after ten years, when you come back, like me, you may at least know what you once were like."

"I am prepared for anything," answered Pushkin, sealing the letter in which he was returning the publisher Severin the two hundred rubles he had received for his poem, not having obtained the Censor's permission to publish. "But there is one thing I cannot understand. I have just received from the Lord Chamberlain an invitation to the state concert to-night. Now, what the devil does that mean?"

"What does it mean, my friend? That your punishment is to be carried out with a refinement of cruelty! Had I not a similar experience? The very night I had challenged that scoundrel, I, too, received an invitation to a court ball. When the circle was formed round the Czar, the Lord Chamberlain placed me among the guests to whom his Majesty desired to speak. I was simple enough to feel elated at the distinction. My turn at length came. The great man stood before me, letting me feel his colossal height. Looking full at me with his cold, green eyes, his face as immovable as a moonlit landscape, he asked, 'You are not satisfied with your commanding officer?' And, taking my confusion for acquiescence, added, 'We will provide against any such unpleasant friction in the future.' And I stammered out something like thanks, never thinking that this was only a planned humiliation for me, that every one standing round about me knew already whither I was to be banished, and that the honor of this imperial interview was merely intended to further humiliate me. Oh, if I had but known it then! If it should again happen that I-- Ah, fool that I am! Fate does not so repeat itself. But could I pa.s.s on to you my imbittered heart, my experience, and my determination at the moment in which you will be standing there, face to face with 'him,' apart from all, all eyes upon you, but every man's hand turned away from you; no one near you but a devil! Casca's devil! But what am I talking about! You are but an Epimetheus to whom wisdom only comes when the opportunity is past. A pleasant journey to Tungusia; my respects to the marmots! Come, let us shake hands. We are comrades now."

"Eh! fate does not repeat itself? How if the soup be not eaten as hot as it is served?" asked Pushkin, simulating light-heartedness. But Jakuskin's words had left a sting in his heart. Why had he received the invitation to the palace that night?

There was no evading the command. His sledge was one among the many formed in line before the gates of the Winter Palace that evening; the guests numbered more than two thousand, the whole _elite_ of St.

Petersburg society was there.

At that time the Winter Palace, in its magnificence, tone of society, its mode of paying compliments, and distinguished courtesy, threatened to rival the Tuileries; even Parisian _bon-mots_ went the round. All national characteristics had become decidedly bad form. Ladies no longer wore the fur-lined _dolmanka_, the clasped girdles; the singular fas.h.i.+on which had formerly prevailed of wearing gold watches in the hair had been given up; feminine taste displayed itself in following the latest Paris fas.h.i.+ons, in which lace and artificial flowers were _de rigueur_.

The men wore uniforms. The Czarina was the sole exception to the prevailing fas.h.i.+on; she continued to wear the out-spreading head-dress, in form of a peac.o.c.k tail, which made her tall figure seem even taller, and lent still more majesty to her countenance. The Czar, on the other hand, was wearing plain civilian evening dress, without ribbon or order of any description.

Late as was Pushkin's entry among the gayly attired throng, he could not fail to notice how greatly the tone of society had altered towards him from the night before. People did not seem to see him. His superior officers and others to whom he had been presented did not acknowledge his salute. Intimate friends, comrades in arms, seemed suddenly engrossed in conversation with their neighbors on his approach, to avoid accosting him. Lovely women, who but yesterday had welcomed him to their opera-boxes, spread out their fans before their faces as he neared them; the heat suddenly became oppressive! One lady alone, clad in rich silks, crossing the room on Prince Ghedimin's arm, vouchsafed him her attention; she was the beautiful Princess Korynthia, Prince Ghedimin's wife; her cold gray eyes measured the young officer from head to foot--she who had so often laughed at his wit--while she deigned him no other return to his salutation than a contemptuous curl of the lip, for which he promptly revenged himself by turning and exchanging mischievous smiles with the young girl at her side, Princess Bethsaba. Just then the press before them brought Prince Ghedimin's party to a standstill, and Pushkin saw the bright flush which had suffused the young Princess's face under the fire of his eyes. Almost he felt inclined to say: "Nay, fair rosebud, do not blush at my gaze. To-morrow I shall be speeding to the land where your fathers sleep!"

The Prince and Princess were now received by Araktseieff, who conducted the ladies to the arm-chairs reserved for them near the stage on which the artistes were to appear. Ghedimin disappeared among the crowd of brilliant uniforms; there were no seats for the men.

The concert began with a sonata of Beethoven, to which the Czar listened absorbed, as he leaned over the back of the Czarina's chair, his tall figure overtopping all others, his eyes fixed on vacancy. When it came to the turn of the harpist his manner became animated. Hurrying across to the performer, he led him on the stage, settled the music-stand for him to the requisite height, and then, as his chair was too low, himself fetched a cus.h.i.+on, oblivious for the moment that he was the Czar of all the Russias. The harpist acquitted himself magnificently, fully bearing out his world-wide fame. At the Czar's state concerts there is no applause; but the murmurs of delight pa.s.sing from mouth to mouth of a crowded audience are a higher reward to the artist than the stormiest applause.

After the harpist followed Fraulein Ilmarinen.

Every one said she had never sung the Swan's song so thrillingly and exquisitely as on that evening; the tears sparkling in her eyes were as real as the brilliants which flashed in her hair.

The Czar involuntarily was beating time to her song. Zeneida looked lovelier than ever that night; her dress was covered with spring flowers; her face was radiant. It could not be all art.

Three pair of eyes are fixed most untiringly upon her. The first are those of Princess Korynthia. Filled with hate and contempt, they strive to read into the singer's inmost soul; to detect some false look of betrayal which shall expose the artiste in the part she is playing; and the Princess inwardly rages that she does not find the clew.

The second pair of eyes are Bethsaba's. Her great dark eyes are staring wide open at the charming apparition, as though to say, "Does the devil look like that? Then, indeed, one must be on one's guard, for its counterpart is very lovely!"

The third pair of eyes belong to Pushkin. He feels that the better part of his soul is merged in that of the lovely woman before him; and that soul, at this moment, is filled with bitterness against all those who would banish him from her vicinity. He feels that in losing Zeneida he loses all that is n.o.blest within him, and that evil alone will remain.

Already it has gained the upper hand as he recalls Jakuskin's speech: "Oh that I could infuse into you Casca's fiendish spirit, when you stand, the mark of every eye, before 'him'!"

He feels himself touched on the shoulder. Looking back, he sees the Lord Chamberlain. Speaking no word, the latter was lost in the crowd of men.

Pushkin knows what that touch on the shoulder means. It means that at the close of the concert the person thus signalled out is to take his place in the middle of the concert-room, as one of those to whom the Czar designs to speak. Exactly as Jakuskin had prophesied! The blood rushes wildly through his veins. The comedy may be turned into a tragedy.

Princess Korynthia turns to Araktseieff, standing behind her chair.

"Fraulein Ilmarinen seems to be in particularly good spirits this evening."

"I have done my best to spoil them. I have struck her heart a blow which will stop her love of intrigue for a while."

"Let me be the first to enjoy your secret."

"The lady's hero, Pushkin, is about to be despatched to Uralsk."

"Do you think the girl will desert St. Petersburg and follow him?"

"Either that, or she will commit some greater folly. Anyway, it will compel her to unmask."

The Czar, after thanking and praising Zeneida, now began to make the round of the gentlemen; while the ladies to whom the Czarina desired to speak were called up to her.

The Czar entered into conversation with some of the amba.s.sadors, exchanged a few words with Miloradovics; then, pa.s.sing over a number of the circle, looked about him, and, perceiving Pushkin, signed him to approach.

All deferentially drew back. From the Czar and a culprit it is well to keep one's distance. All the same, every eye was fixed on the two.