Kabanata Kabanata 91 · 第91章

When Borís and Anna Pávlovna returned to the others Prince Hippolyte

had the ear of the company.

Bending forward in his armchair he said: “Le Roi de Prusse!” and

having said this laughed. Everyone turned toward him.

“Le Roi de Prusse?” Hippolyte said interrogatively, again laughing,

and then calmly and seriously sat back in his chair. Anna Pávlovna

waited for him to go on, but as he seemed quite decided to say no more

she began to tell of how at Potsdam the impious Bonaparte had stolen the

sword of Frederick the Great.

“It is the sword of Frederick the Great which I...” she began, but

Hippolyte interrupted her with the words: “Le Roi de Prusse...” and

again, as soon as all turned toward him, excused himself and said no

more.

Anna Pávlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hippolyte’s friend, addressed him

firmly.

“Come now, what about your Roi de Prusse?”

Hippolyte laughed as if ashamed of laughing.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I only wished to say...” (he wanted to repeat

a joke he had heard in Vienna and which he had been trying all that

evening to get in) “I only wished to say that we are wrong to fight

pour le Roi de Prusse!”

Borís smiled circumspectly, so that it might be taken as ironical

or appreciative according to the way the joke was received. Everybody

laughed.

“Your joke is too bad, it’s witty but unjust,” said Anna

Pávlovna, shaking her little shriveled finger at him.

“We are not fighting pour le Roi de Prusse, but for right principles.

Oh, that wicked Prince Hippolyte!” she said.

The conversation did not flag all evening and turned chiefly on the

political news. It became particularly animated toward the end of the

evening when the rewards bestowed by the Emperor were mentioned.

“You know N— N— received a snuffbox with the portrait last

year?” said “the man of profound intellect.” “Why shouldn’t

S— S— get the same distinction?”

“Pardon me! A snuffbox with the Emperor’s portrait is a reward but

not a distinction,” said the diplomatist—“a gift, rather.”

“There are precedents, I may mention Schwarzenberg.”

“It’s impossible,” replied another.

“Will you bet? The ribbon of the order is a different matter....”

When everybody rose to go, Hélène who had spoken very little all

the evening again turned to Borís, asking him in a tone of caressing

significant command to come to her on Tuesday.

“It is of great importance to me,” she said, turning with a smile

toward Anna Pávlovna, and Anna Pávlovna, with the same sad smile with

which she spoke of her exalted patroness, supported Hélène’s wish.

It seemed as if from some words Borís had spoken that evening about the

Prussian army, Hélène had suddenly found it necessary to see him.

She seemed to promise to explain that necessity to him when he came on

Tuesday.

But on Tuesday evening, having come to Hélène’s splendid salon,

Borís received no clear explanation of why it had been necessary for

him to come. There were other guests and the countess talked little to

him, and only as he kissed her hand on taking leave said unexpectedly

and in a whisper, with a strangely unsmiling face: “Come to dinner

tomorrow... in the evening. You must come.... Come!”

During that stay in Petersburg, Borís became an intimate in the

countess’ house.