Bab Bab 14 · 第10章

Next morning, according to his promise, Peter woke Ibrahim and greeted

him as lieutenant-captain of the Preobrajensky regiment, in which he

himself was captain. The courtiers flocked round Ibrahim, each one in

his own way trying to welcome the new favourite.

The haughty Prince Menshikoff gave him a friendly grasp of the hand.

Sheremetieff inquired after his own Parisian friend, and Golovin asked

him to dinner. Others followed his example, so that Ibrahim received

invitations for at least a whole month.

His life was now passed in regular but active occupation; consequently

he was not dull. Prom day to day he became more attached to the Tsar,

and grew better able to appreciate his lofty character. The thoughts

of a great man are a most interesting study. Ibrahim saw Peter in the

Senate debating with Buturlin and Dolgoruki, discussing important

questions in the Admiralty, fostering the Russian navy,--in his

leisure, with Theophan, Gavril, Bujinski, and Kopievitch, examining

translations from foreign publications, or visiting a factory, an

artizan's workshop, or the study of some learned man. Russia became

to Ibrahim one vast workshop, where machinery alone moved, where each

workman under ordered rules is occupied with his own task.

He felt that he too must work at his own bench, and tried to regret

as little as possible the amusements of his Parisian life. But if

was hander to forget a dearer memory. Often he thought of Countess

L., her just indignation, her tears, and grief. At times a terrible

thought oppressed him: the distractions of society: new ties: another

favourite. He shuddered; jealousy began to rage in his African blood,

and burning tears were ready to flow down his swarthy face.

One morning he was sitting in his study amid official documents, when

he heard himself loudly greeted in French. Turning quickly round he was

embraced with joyous exclamations by young Korsakoff, whom he had left

in Paris in the whirl of the great world.

"I have only just arrived," said Korsakoff "and came straight to you.

All our Parisian friends desire to be remembered to you, and regret

your absence. The Countess L. requested me to invite you without fail,

and here is her letter for you."

Ibrahim seized it eagerly, and was looking at the familiar writing on

the envelope, scarcely believing his own eyes.

"How glad I am," added Korsakoff, "that you have not been bored to

death in this barbarous Petersburg. How do they manage here? What do

they do? Who is your tailor? Have they started an opera?"

Ibrahim absently replied that the Tsar was probably at that moment at

work in the shipping dock.

Korsakoff laughed.

"I see," he said, "you are preoccupied, and don't want me just now.

Another time we will have a good talk; I am off to present my respects

to his Majesty." With these words he turned on his heel, and hurried

out of the room.

Left alone Ibrahim quickly opened the letter. The countess complained

tenderly, reproached him with falseness and inconstancy.

"You used to say," she wrote, "that my happiness was more to you than

all the world. Ibrahim, if this were true, could you have left me in

the state to which the sudden news of your departure brought me. You

were afraid I might detain you. Be assured that, in spite of my love,

I should have known how to sacrifice it for your good and to what you

deem your duty."

The countess ended with passionate assurances of love, begging him to

write, if only occasionally, and even if there were no hope that they

would ever meet again.

Ibrahim read and re-read this letter twenty times, rapturously kissing

those precious lines. Burning with impatience for news about the

countess, he set out for the Admiralty, hoping to find his friend still

there, when the door opened, and Korsakoff re-entered. He had seen the

Tsar, and he seemed as usual perfectly self-satisfied.

"Between ourselves," he said to Ibrahim, "the Tsar is a most

extraordinary man. Fancy! I found him in a sort of linen vest on the

mast of a new ship, whither I had to scramble with my dispatches. I

stood on a rope ladder, and had not room enough to make a proper bow.

I lost my presence of mind for the first time in all my life. However,

the Tsar, when he had read my papers, looked at me from head to foot.

Ho doubt he was agreeably impressed by my good taste and splendid

attire. At any rate he smiled, and invited me to the assembly today.

But I am a perfect stranger in Petersburg. For my six years' absence I

have quite forgotten the local customs. Please be my mentor; call for

me on your way, and introduce me."

Ibrahim promised, and hastened to turn the conversation on the subject

that most interested him.

"How was the Countess L.?"

"The countess? At first she was naturally most unhappy at your

departure; then, of course by degrees, she grew reconciled, and took

to herself another lover--who do you think? The lanky Marquis R. Why

do you open those African eyes of yours? Does this appear to you so

strange? Don't you know that enduring grief is not in human nature,

particularly in a woman. Meditate duly upon that while I go and rest

after my journey, and don't forget to call for me on your way."

What terrible thoughts crowded Ibrahim's soul? Jealousy? Rage?

Despair?--Ho!--but a deep, crushing sorrow.

He murmured to himself. I foresaw it, it was bound to happen. Then he

opened the countess's letter, read it over again, hung his head, and

wept bitterly. Long did he weep. Those tears relieved him. He looked

at his watch and found that it was time to start. Gladly would he have

stayed away, but the party was an affair of duty, and the Tsar was

strict in exacting the attendance of those attached to him.

He dressed and started to fetch Korsakoff. Korsakoff was sitting in his

dressing gown, reading a French book.

"So early?" he exclaimed, seeing Ibrahim.

"Excuse me," the other replied, "it's already half-past five, we shall

be late; make haste and dress, and let us go."

Korsakoff hurriedly rang the bell with all his might; the servants

hurried in, and he began hastily to dress. His French valet handed him

slippers with red heels, light blue velvet breeches, a pink kaftan

embroidered with spangles. In the antechamber his wig was hurriedly

powdered and brought in; Korsakoff pushed into it his closely cropped

head, asked for his sword and gloves, turned ten times before the

glass, and announced to Ibrahim that he was ready. The footmen handed

them their bearskin overcoats, and they drove off to the Winter Palace.

Korsakoff smothered Ibrahim with questions.

Who was the belle of St. Petersburg. Which man was considered the

best dancer? and which dance was the most fashionable? Ibrahim very

reluctantly gratified his curiosity. Meanwhile they reached the

palace. A number of long sledges, old carriages, and gilded coaches

stood on the lawn. Near the steps were crowded coachmen in livery and

moustaches, outriders glittering with tinsel, with feathers and maces,

hussars, pages and awkward footmen carrying their masters' furcoats

and muffs, a following indispensable according to the notions of the

gentry of that period. At sight of Ibrahim a general murmur ran. "The

negro, the negro, the Tzar's negro!" He hurriedly led Korsakoff through

this motley crowd. The Court footman opened wide the doors; and they

entered a large room. Korsakoff was dumb with astonishment. In this big

hall, lighted up with tallow candles dimly burning amidst clouds of

tobacco smoke, sat magnates with blue ribbons across their shoulders,

ambassadors, foreign merchants, officers of the guards in their green

uniform, shipbuilders in jackets and striped trousers, all moving to

and fro in crowds to the unceasing sound of sacred music. The ladies

sat near to the walls;--the young attired in all the splendour of

fashion. Gold and silver shone upon their gowns; from the midst of wide

crinolines their slender figures rose like flower stalks. Diamonds

glittered in their ears, in their long curls, and round their neck.

They turned gaily to the right and left awaiting the gentlemen and the

dancing.

Elderly ladies tried cunningly to combine the new style of dress with

the vanished past; caps were modelled on the small sable hat of the

Tsaritsa Natalia Kirilovna, and gowns and mantles somehow recalled the

sarafan and dushegreika (short jacket without sleeves). They seemed

to share rather with wonder than enjoyment in these new imported

amusements, and glanced angrily at the wives and daughters of the Dutch

skippers, who in cotton skirts and red jackets knitted their stockings

and sat laughing and talking quite at ease amongst themselves. Seeing

the fresh arrivals, a servant approached with beer and tumblers on a

tray. Korsakoff in bewilderment whispered to Ibrahim.

"Que diable est ce que tout cela?" Ibrahim could not repress a smile.

The empress and the grand duchess, radiant in their own beauty and

their attire, walked through the rows of guests, talking affably to

them. The emperor was in another room, Korsakoff, wishing to show

himself to him, with difficulty pushed his way through the ever-moving

crowd. Sitting in that room were mostly foreigners solemnly smoking

their clay pipes and drinking from their earthen jugs. On the tables

were bottles of beer and wine, leather pouches with tobacco, tumblers

of punch, and a few draught-boards. At one of these was Peter playing

draughts with a broad-shouldered English skipper. They solemnly saluted

one another with gulps of tobacco smoke, and the Tsar was so engrossed

by an unexpected move of his opponent that he did not notice Korsakoff,

in spite of the latter's contortions. At that moment a stout gentleman

with a large bouquet on his breast rushed in, announced in a loud voice

that dancing had begun, and instantly retired. He was followed by a

large number of the guests, including Korsakoff among the rest.

The unexpected sight surprised him. Along the whole length of the

hall, to the sound of the most doleful music, the ladies and gentlemen

stood in two rows face to face. The gentlemen bowed low; the ladies

curtsied lower still, first to their _vis-à-vis_, then to the right,

then to the left; again to their _vis-à-vis_, then to the right, and

so on. Korsakoff, gazing at this fantastic pastime, opened his eyes

and bit his lips. The curtsying and bowing went on for about half an

hour. At last they ended, and the stout gentleman with the bouquet

announced that the dances of ceremony were ended, and ordered the band

to play a minuet. Korsakoff was delighted, and made ready to show

off. Among the young ladies was one whom he particularly admired. She

was about sixteen, dressed richly but with taste, and sat next an

elderly gentleman of dignified and stern appearance. Korsakoff rushed

up to her and begged the honour of a dance. The young beauty was

disconcerted, and seemed to be at a loss what to say. The man sitting

next her frowned more than before. Korsakoff awaited her reply, when

the gentleman with the bouquet approached, led him to the middle of the

hall, and said pompously:

"Dear sip, you have done wrong. In the first place, you approached this

young person without first rendering her the three requisite salutes,

and secondly, you took upon yourself the right of choosing her, whereas

in the minuet that privilege is hers and not the gentleman's. For this

you must undergo severe punishment, that is you must drain the goblet

of the Great Eagle."

Korsakoff from hour to hour grew more astonished. In a moment the

guests surrounded him, loudly demanding instant compliance with the

law. Peter, hearing the laughter and loud talk, came from the next

room, being very fond of witnessing such punishments. The crowd divided

before him and he stepped into the centre, where stood the accused with

the master of the ceremonies before him holding an enormous cup full

of malmsey wine. He was earnestly persuading the culprit to submit

willingly to the law.

"Aha!" said Peter, seeing Korsakoff, "you are caught, brother. Drink,

monsieur, and no wry faces."

There was nothing for it. The poor dandy, without stopping, drained the

goblet and returned it to the master of the ceremonies.

"Hark, Korsakoff," said Peter, "your breeches are of velvet, the like

even I don't wear, who am much richer than you. That is extravagance,

take care I do not quarrel with you."

After this rebuke Korsakoff wished to leave the circle, but staggered

and nearly fell, to the great delight of the emperor and the merry

company. This incident not only did not mar the harmony nor interest of

the principal entertainment, but on the contrary enlivened it.

The gentlemen began to scrape and bow, and the ladies to curtsy and

knock their little heels together with great diligence, no longer

keeping time to the music. Korsakoff could not share in the general

merriment. By her father Gavril Afanassievitch Rjevski's orders, the

lady whom Korsakoff had chosen approached Ibrahim, and, dropping her

eyes, timidly held out her hand to him. Ibrahim danced the minuet with

her and led her back to her seat, then went in search of Korsakoff,

led him out of the hall, placed him in the carriage, and drove him

home. At the beginning of the journey Korsakoff mumbled, "Curses upon

the soiree and the goblet of the Great Eagle," but he soon fell into

a deep sleep. He knew not how he got home, undressed, and was put to

bed, and he awoke next day with a headache, and a dim remembrance of

the scraping, curtseying, and tobacco smoke, the gentleman with the

enormous bouquet, and the mighty goblet of the Great Eagle.