The Green Book Part 55

When was he not ready to do it? It was the reason the brutal pair loved each other so well that there was nothing so mad devised by the one that the other was not ready to join in.

Song followed the carousal. Daimona began the _Knife Song_, and Araktseieff joined in the chorus.

For the sweetest of all the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge is when a smooth courtier, whose wont is to flatter, to bow, and to sc.r.a.pe, in the privacy of his chamber can tune up a revolutionary song, and blacken his sovereign and fellow-courtiers to his heart's content.

"Let's have it over again! Where's a gla.s.s?" He always dashed his empty gla.s.ses against the wall. But instead of the gla.s.s, Sc.h.i.n.ko brought on his silver salver a letter, which a mounted messenger had just delivered.

Araktseieff at once knew the handwriting on the cover. Releasing himself from Daimona's arms, he sprang up from the divan, and, hastily wiping his mouth, pressed the letter to his lips and forehead; then said, in a hollow voice:

"Give me the scissors."

"What do you want with scissors? Break it open with your fingers."

"Give me the scissors when I ask for them!" shouted he, angrily, and s.n.a.t.c.hed roughly at the pair hanging from Daimona's girdle. And as with trembling hand he cut the seal, he said, feverishly, "One does not break the Czar's seal."

"The Czar's seal?" repeated Daimona, astounded.

It did not take Araktseieff long to read his letter. Besides the signature were two words only--"Come back!"

"Bring water! Cold water!" he said, imperiously, to Sc.h.i.n.ko. And as he, not knowing the wherefore, returned with a bucket of water, his master, seizing the utensil with both hands, took a deep draught from it.

Daimona's astonishment increased more and more.

"What is the matter?"

"I must set off this very instant!" gasped Araktseieff. "Hurry, Sc.h.i.n.ko; let them put the horses to; twelve hors.e.m.e.n to accompany me with torches; and one to ride on before to secure post-horses. Fly!"

"You are going away?" asked Daimona, amazed.

"Instantly! The Czar commands!"

"And you hurry back at his request?"

"As a Cossack pony answers to his master's whistle."

"And will not be taking part in to-morrow's sport?"

"I must deny myself the gratification."

"You are going to leave me?" asked she, reproachfully. "You do not love me any more?"

"The Czar has deigned to write with his own hand," returned Araktseieff, handing her the letter.

"What do I care about his writing?" screamed Daimona; and, s.n.a.t.c.hing at the letter, she cut out a piece with her scissors, which so enraged Araktseieff that he struck her violently on the hand.

"You have struck me! You are going away, and have struck me!" And, turning her face away, the woman wept bitterly.

But Araktseieff had no time to pacify her now.

"_Seisasz!_ This means that the crisis is past."

Had there been an ocean before him he must have swam across it. How much more, then, a few woman's tears!

The celebration of a double wedding will come off, but he will not be there to enjoy the fun.

"Quick, quick, Sc.h.i.n.ko! Then come to my room to shave me."

While at Grusino the minister was in the habit of letting his beard and mustache grow to please Daimona; but always had it shaved off before returning to St. Petersburg.

"Take care you don't cut me with your razor," were his first words to Sc.h.i.n.ko, as he began. Sc.h.i.n.ko was the only one there to whom he intrusted his throat. "If you slash my face I'll shoot you dead."

His two travelling-pistols lay close to his hand. Sc.h.i.n.ko was cautious, and completed the operation without disfiguring his master's face. A lucky thing for Araktseieff. For the gypsy was resolved at the slightest slip of his razor to cut his master's throat, that he might not have the chance to carry out his threat. Never had Araktseieff been nearer to his grave.

As he finished, the bells on the horses' necks were heard in the courtyard below.

Thrusting the Czar's letter into his breast-pocket, Araktseieff hurried away to say good-bye to Daimona.

She had locked herself up in the room.

"I have gone to bed."

"Then good-bye, my dear!" He had no time for more.

Daimona, from her window, could see the carriage dash away, with its escort of torch-bearers.

It was pitch-dark, the rain coming down in torrents--weather in which one would not have sent out a scullion.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

IT'S NOT THE KNIFE ALONE THAT STRIKES TO THE HEART

Araktseieff, on arrival at the palace, was received by Chevalier Galban.

"What has happened here?" he asked, as he changed his travelling-dress for his uniform.

"A startling change. Since his daughter's death the Czar has become reconciled to the Czarina, and is with her constantly. Every diplomatic action has been broken off. The Greek deputation has not been received, the commanding officers of the various regiments of the guards have been despatched back to their colonies."

"And what do the women say to all this? That's the main point."

"The women are deucedly hard to get at just now. Since the reconciliation of the Czar and Czarina, domestic fidelity has become the rage in St. Petersburg. Every man is seen driving out with his wife.

Even Princess Ghedimin ostentatiously parades everywhere on her husband's arm, and conducts herself so prudishly that she scarce returns my bow."

"And Zeneida?"

"Is in disgrace. The court chamberlain has intimated that it would not give displeasure in high quarters if she were to pa.s.s the coming season under a more genial clime. Upon which she at once sent back her credentials as court singer. She is having a sale of her furniture, and is preparing for immediate departure."