by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XVI
SOPHIE
Araktseieff's chief care now was to divert the Czar from the influenceof his, Araktseieff's, enemies. And the best means to that end was avisit to the military colonies. This atrocious idea had originated inAraktseieff's brain; he was the creator of the military colonies. Half amillion soldiers, who had gone through every European war, were to berewarded for their services by being planted as colonists, regiment byregiment, throughout the length and breadth of the empire. The peasantswere to teach them to plough and sow seed, while they in turn were toinstruct the peasants in drill and the use of firearms. A marvellousconception--on paper! Thus in time the state would acquire threemillions of well-drilled soldiers at no cost. The scythe would pay thepiper.
But one important factor in the project had been left out of hiscalculations by its author. The peasant did not take kindly to drill,nor did the soldier to the scythe.
The Czar took the military colony of Novgorod for his first inspection;Araktseieff was in his retinue. They returned unexpectedly; a factmentioned in the newspapers, as showing with what marvellous rapiditythe Czar travelled. He had actually accomplished the journey to the UralMountains in four weeks; it was a peculiarity of his to gallop night andday. Then they went on to describe the magnificent reception theimperial cortege had met with in every town of the colony, which hadsprung up with magic quickness. They dilated on the triumphal arches,deputations, the gifts offered them by the people, by which theyendeavored to express their unbounded loyalty to the Czar. The greatmilitary parades which had been held were also graphically described;and no one for a moment suspected but that all these things had dulytaken place.
On his return from the inspection, Araktseieff went on an officialmission to Warsaw. This, too, was duly announced by the newspapers,without comment of any kind or description.
With the month of June springtide returned to St. Petersburg. SophieNarishkin's room was a mass of lilies-of-the-valley, her favoriteflower. Every vase, every available space was filled with them. With themore favorable season her health seemed to be re-established. She couldnow walk across the room without support, and began to think more aboutfood than medicines. She even began to speculate on being taken to courtballs in the winter. One of her aunts was to chaperon her in society;perhaps she might even be allowed to dance a minuet. She was constantlysending for Bethsaba to hear what a court ball was like. The king'sdaughter had already attended one.
One day, after the Czar's return from the inspection, Bethsaba came tosee Sophie.
"Oh, your room is quite full of lilies-of-the-valley! Who sent them toyou?"
"Who else than father?"
Sophie had no secrets from Bethsaba. She openly called the Czar "father"to her.
"Has he been here?"
"Yes; all last evening. It was a very sad one. I begin to feel quiteafraid of him."
"Did you do anything to vex him?"
"Oh no! It is his great love for me which makes me begin to feelfrightened of him. When he stands so long, looking silently at me, myhands in his, I feel as if I cannot endure the silence; then I ask him,'What is it, father? What is grieving you?' And he answers, 'My grief isthat I have no one to whom I can tell my troubles.' 'Can so great a manas you have any trouble for which there is no help?' Then, pointing tohis heart, he said, 'Here is the trouble!' Upon which I coaxed him, andbegged him to tell me all his trouble. Who could tell--perhaps even mychildish simplicity might find a way to heal or lessen his sorrows? Thenhe drew me again to his heart, laid my head on his shoulder, and said,'I am ill, Sophie; and there is no physician in the wide world to whom Ican tell my ailment. There is something weighing on my heart, and thereis no confessor to whom I can confess it. By night my dreams make metremble; by day, my thoughts. I dread solitude, and I dread mankind. Iknow that no one loves me; I know that I am condemned.' 'By whom?' 'ByGod and man. Every one flatters me; only that which beats within metells me the truth and accuses me.' 'And does not this, too, that beatswithin me tell the truth?' I cried; 'and does it not live, love, andworship you? Let those two hearts of ours fight it out together!' Thenhe embraced me, and whispered, 'Be it so. There is no one on whom I havewrought such ill as you. Why should I not confess to you? You are mymartyr; if you can give me absolution, I am indeed absolved.' Andkneeling before me, he said, oh! such sorrowful words, 'Look! I ascendedthe throne over my father's body. _I accepted the crown at the hands ofhis murderers_, and placed it upon my head. I wept no tears when I heardof his death; I felt relieved. I had no longer to dread his wrath, forhe had parted from me in anger. On how many a battle-field have I sincesought expiation! It was not for me. It was written upon my brow thatthe bullets that whizzed about me should not strike me; it was spoken ofme that my punishment should be as my sin. As a son, my heart was coldas stone to my father. How was I to suffer in my children? I have bornethem all to the grave. You are my last and only one! I am ground down tothe earth under the iron hand of Fate when I think of you, when I lookinto your dear face. Are you, too, to be condemned for my great sin?' Itried to console him. 'I want for nothing, father dear,' I said; 'I amhappy, quite happy, and mean to grow strong, and love you ever so long.'And we both burst into tears. 'It is not for myself I tremble,' hewhispered. 'I see the sword hanging over me. I hear, in the watches ofthe night, how the knife is being sharpened against the corner-stone ofmy palace. I am ready. _Through blood I ascended the throne; in blood Imust descend it._ But it is for you that I tremble! God's sentence uponme must not strike your head too!' Then I made him rise, and said suchwise things to him that I quite astonished myself; I am usually such asilly child. I comforted him in a hundred ways, so that at last I won asmile to his lips, and he said, 'Then give me absolution. Say, _Christeeleison_!' I was so brave that I even began to talk politics withhim--actually got to matters of state! I said, 'Why torment yourselfwith such fancies? Your people are not as bad as those of othercountries. I know something of the world! I have seen Frenchmen,Italians, Germans. When they drink hard on holidays, they grow noisy andquarrelsome; but your subjects, when they drink at holiday-time, onlystagger about, and laugh and embrace each other.'"
"Did not that make him laugh?"
"He only kissed me, telling me I was a wiser stateswoman than eitherTalleyrand or Metternich; then grew grave again. 'So it used to be informer times; and the distinction your wise little head draws did thenexist. But nowadays there is something in the air which seems to infectthe most peace-loving people; so that what you are sure of one day youcannot be the next. I will tell you what happened to me on my recentjourney. It is not talked about, and newspapers and parliamentaryreports will be dumb about it. It was growing dusk as I neared themilitary colony of Petrowsk; the setting sun was tinting bright crimsonthe fleecy clouds covering the sky. It looked like a ragged imperialmantle.' Here I, scolding him, asked who had ever seen a ragged imperialmantle? And he, answering me, said, 'Among others, Julius Caesar.' 'Iremarked that it was a sky which presaged storm. "A mere fancy,"returned Araktseieff.
"'In the light of the crimson sky the triumphal arch erected in thestreet of Petrowsk looked like a bower of molten gold. The othertriumphal arches under which we had passed had been of fir, which,taking no reflection from the sun, looked gloomy, however brightly itmight be shining. What was this made of that it shone so brightly? Animmense throng surrounded it. As I drew nearer I discovered of what itwas composed. Oh, I have passed through many a triumphal arch erected inwelcome of me. They have been made of velvets and satins in my honor; Ihave seen the two side pillars formed of cannon conquered from theenemy; the arch decorated with standards wrested from them; the crown inthe centre formed of the orders of fallen heroes; the glittering aureolearound of the swords of the generals who were our prisoners. But thetriumphal arch of Petrowsk exceeded them all.
"'That which from afar in the light of the setting sun shone golden werestrips of ragged shirts and gowns; in place of flags were beggars'sacks; the crown was composed of crutches stuck thr
ough an oldbottomless cooking-pot. It was a triumphal arch built up of rags andbeggars' sacks. While I stood transfixed at the hideous phantom, therestepped one from the midst of the crowd--a fine, tall old man withflowing beard, holding in his hand the customary wooden vessel, in whichwas a crust of bread--and said:
"'"This is the bread which your soldiers have left us. Taste it! It ismade from the bark of fir-trees. The usual salt we cannot offer you, forwe have none but our salt tears. On this triumphal arch you will findmany a token left us by your soldiers; the ragged clothing of our wivesand daughters. They themselves are not here, because they could notappear naked before you. The twelve chaste virgins commanded by theHetman we could not present to bid you welcome, because in all theneighborhood there does not exist a single chaste virgin since you havequartered your soldiers upon us."
"'At these words Araktseieff gave the command to the companies of GuardCossacks in our suite to disperse the rebellious crowd. But they were norebels, but despairing men. As the trumpet sounded they threw themselvesdown by the wayside before our horses' feet, and, with hands and faceuplifted to me, implored:
"'"Deliver us from your soldiers. Take your armed men away from us. Weare loyal peasants, and will work. You must ride over our bodies if youwish to go farther."
"'It was impossible to make way along the ground so densely strewn withprostrate figures. Nor angry threats, nor gracious words availed.Without intermission they cried, "Take your soldiers away from us!"Seldom has a ruler been in such a dilemma. At length came help. From themilitary colony appeared rank upon rank of veterans, marching in closeorder, at their head a drum-major, as venerable and gray-bearded as wasthe peasants' spokesman. I recognized them as my grenadiers. Theyunderstood how to overcome the obstacles in their way. A blast of thetrumpet, and the sappers advancing seized the peasants by their handsand feet, and, heaping one upon another, made summary way for thebrigade to pass. The drum-major, planting his standard on the ground,said:
"'"Sire, do not leave us in this cursed place. We served you faithfullyin the battle-field for fifteen years; we fought for you againstFrenchmen, Germans, and Italians; and are we now to wage war againstfield-mice, grasshoppers, caterpillars, and, what is worse, peasants? Inour youth we learned to fight like bears; we don't want, in our old age,to learn to plough like oxen. We understand how to use our guns andsabres, but we are not handy with scythe and sickle, and must we bemocked at by peasants? Lead us into the enemy's country, where behindevery shrub lurks an ambush; but, for pity's sake, sire, do not leave ushere among your peasantry. Send us into the field against idolaters, butdo not leave us here to be cursed when we ask anything; cursed when westrike them; cursed if we only look at them. Shut us up in a beleagueredfortress, where we have only the flesh of fallen horses to eat--mustseason it with powder instead of salt; and for drink have only the waterthat runs down the walls; but do not condemn us to this forsaken spot onearth, to labor for our bit of bread, envied by a set of thieving,treacherous peasants. Bury us under the corpses of our brothers on thefield of battle, but do not bury us alive in the military colony. Curseson him who first thought of it!"
"'Araktseieff here commanded the trumpeter to put an end to the man'sspeech, but now peasants and soldiers began to make such an uproar thatthe trumpet notes were deadened. Tlia' (the Czar's coachman), 'withoutawaiting orders, turned the horses' heads, and we drove back the way bywhich we had come, but avoiding the hideous arch. Thus ended mytriumphal progress. When I reached home I read in the papers the glowingaccounts of the ovations I had received. The red sky had truly betokenedstorm.' This is what my poor father told me."
"It is indeed sad for so mighty a Czar, when his people _will_ not behappy, whom he would fain make so. My father's people were happier. Whydoes not your father go to them? They are his subjects."
"Bethsaba! What a capital idea! Don't let me forget it. I will proposeit to him as soon as ever he is in better spirits. Just now he is sodepressed. After he had said good-bye he came back to me again. 'Iforgot to ask how you were?' 'That proves,' said I, 'that I must belooking well.' Looking anxiously at me, he asked if my face was alwaysas red as then; and I, laughing, said 'Yes. But why are you so anxious?Does not the good God know how you love me; and are you not theanointed, the chosen one of Him to whom you pray for my recovery tohealth?' 'Yes, He knows,' he answered, gloomily, 'that I love you. Butwas not King David also His anointed, chosen servant? And did not theking sing all night through his despairing, penitential Psalm, and yethis child was taken from him, in punishment of his sin with Bathsheba?'"
"Who was that Bathsheba?" broke in the king's daughter. "It can only beanother form for Bethsaba. Was there really any one who bore that namebefore me? I have hitherto searched in vain to find a namesake insociety or in the Calendar. Never have I been able to find one. Mygodmother, Duchess Korynthia, who named me so at my christening--up tomy sixth year I was a heathen--in answer to my question why I could notfind it in any Calendar, told me it was another name for Elizabeth, andthat St. Elizabeth's day was my name-day; and they give me presents onthat day. And now the Czar has told you that there really was aBathsheba. Who was she?"
"I do not know any more than you. I have never been taught anythingabout her, although I am curious to know. I asked old Helena, and gotfrom her that Bathsheba was St. David's wife; but that was all she knew,for only the priests are allowed to read the Bible. On that account itis written in Bulgarian."
"But why, then, should she not be among the saints in the Calendar?"
"Of course, because she was a Jewess!"
"But he said she had sinned. Oh, why did my godmother give me the nameof a sinful woman?" And Bethsaba was ready to cry.
"Bethsaba, dear," said Sophie, "please don't tell anybody what I havetold you about the Czar's tour and the triumphal arch."
"But if my godmother asks what we have been talking about?"
"Tell her something else."
"What else?"
"Make up a fib."
"A fib! How does one do that? I have never done it."
Sophie Narishkin laughed in great amusement. She had learned to lie andfib as quite a little child. Instead of "mamma" she had had to say"madam"; and if her father brought her bonbons to tell people that"Nicolo" (_la mere Cicogne_) had brought them.
What old Helena told her she dared not repeat to "madam"; what she heardwhen with "madam" she must not breathe a word of to old Helena; whateither said must not be repeated to the Czar; and what the Czar told hermust be kept from every one. So she had been so inured to lying that shehad once brought her doctor to the verge of despair when, on his tryingto find out her symptoms, her prevarications made a diagnosis next toimpossible. How the poor child had rejoiced when at last she found twobeings to whom she might really open her heart, her father and herfriend!
"So you always tell every one all you know?" she asked Bethsaba.
"Oh no; although I do not understand the art of lying, if any one thinksto pump me, or to catch me unawares, I have my own way of being evenwith him. I begin to ask so many questions that he or she is only gladenough to leave me in peace."
At which they both laughed. The music of fresh young laughter was rarelyheard in that cage.