by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XXXVI
DAIMONA
The mistress of Grusino, who ruled Araktseieff as completely as he ruledthe empire, was neither young nor beautiful. She could not have laidclaim to beauty even in youth, and her stature was of manly proportions.
There are plain women who can make themselves pleasant; who, aware thatthey have not the advantages of good looks, lay themselves out to charmby their manner. But Daimona wanted to be beautiful. Her complexion wasdark--she painted herself very red and very white; but as herbeautifying only extended to her face, leaving her neck its natural hue,it gave her the appearance of wearing a mask. Having no eyebrows, butdesiring to obtain them by artificial aid--being, moreover, extremelyshort-sighted--she usually contrived to paint first one, then the other,higher or lower than its fellow. Her teeth were blackened from muchsmoking and indulgence in sweets. In addition, she selected the mostridiculous and garish of costumes and colors, always overloaded withribbons and jewels. When she spoke it was in a man's barytone, which,when agitated, broke into a sobbing squeak.
And this voice of hers, heard all day long without cessation, inspiredfear in all around her, for she only opened her mouth to scold andabuse. In her communications to her household she made use of the mostsingular punctuation; the cane formed a comma, a box on both ears acolon, and the knout a full stop.
And this woman was the delight, the goddess, the idol, of theall-powerful court favorite. The whole land knew the infatuation of thegreat statesman for her; whoever aimed at accomplishing any end in St.Petersburg must first make his way to Grusino; for a good word fromDaimona outbalanced a whole wagon-load of letters of introduction andwhole sackfuls of merit.
And that good word was never given for nothing. Daimona understood herbusiness; she had a carefully made-out tariff for favors desired: Somuch for an official post; so much for a concession; so much for anorder; so much to be let off from an undesired expedition to Siberia,with or without accompaniment of the knout on the way, on foot, or bysledge. She could tell it all off by heart.
The most aristocratic men and women did not esteem it beneath theirdignity, whenever they deemed it advisable, to present themselves withfriendly or deferential mien to the mistress of Grusino, who, weddedneither in right nor left handed marriage to the favorite, wasoriginally the cast-off wife of a sailor condemned to Siberia, andafterwards had served her time as a _vivandiere_ to the IsmailowskRegiment, who had given her the sobriquet of the "squinting Diana."
And, withal, she had completely captivated the clever man before whom avast empire trembled. Araktseieff was only at his ease when, throwingoff the "iron mask," he could be himself again in the arms of thechatelaine of Grusino.
At court, in order to retain his influence, he had humbly, in coldblood, to receive every affront and humiliation, to flatter, to be morecourtly and diplomatic in manner than any diplomat; the while raginginternally, filled with uncontrollable pride and savage revolt ateverything that opposed him. It was of itself a penance to him to havealways to converse in French, for it was the only language of the court,and he who spoke Russian ran the risk of being looked upon as aconspirator, or, worse, "member of a learned society." And he hated theFrench with a deadly hatred! Their language, dress, manners, music,drinks, diplomats, their drama and their philosophy! Then, too, he hadcarefully to keep watch over every word he uttered and every glass heput to his lips. Not only lest the contents of the glass should bepoisoned, but for fear of drinking too much! For he knew that the trueman spake in him when he was in liquor. Even worse, he had to ape theascetic; for women's charms were an arch snare, in which his enemieswould fain have trapped him. Thus he lived like a recluse, with theappetites of a Sardanapalus. And when, flying court atmosphere for abrief respite, he could seek refuge at home in his Eleusinian den, and,throwing off the affectations of the French language, dress, and mask,he was free to resume the despised native Russian costume, and talk thegood old true Novgorod dialect, in which the republican peasant ofthose days abused Czar and yeoman alike, he felt himself happy. Then hecould vie with his well-mated companion in good round oaths, beat her inthe morning, kiss and make friends in the afternoon over the flogging ofthe peasants, men-servants, and stewards who came in their way, and getdrunk together at night. Daimona was a match for him in every form ofexcess. If he were violent, she incited him to increased violence; if hewould vent his wrath on some one, she found him a human object on whichto vent it, seconding him with all a woman's refinement of cruelty.
When the master showed his face at Grusino there was a hurrying andscurrying hither and thither, lamentations, groans, and blows; eatingand drinking to excess; music and dancing through the streets; battues,dog-fights, mad revels of every description, and at least one _swacha_(girl market). For the Sultana provided her Padishah with his Feast ofBairam.
In fine, Prince Alexis Andreovitch found in the hideous Daimona hisother self; and this made her more precious to him than all the beautiesunder the sun.
One day that fine fellow Zsabakoff presented himself, with countlessbowings and cringings, before the mighty Daimona. Not this time in thetorn garments in which he slipped into Pushkin's quarters, but attiredas a man of position. He possessed different costumes for the differentparts he had to play.
Herr Zsabakoff came to Daimona because he had learned that the Czar wassending an army against the Turks. The fact was known to none, not evento Araktseieff; only one man knew of it, and that was the Czar's groomof the chambers, the same worthy individual who one evening had lentyoung Araktseieff the Czar's Vladimir star. This worthy groom of thechambers often did his friends a good turn. Thus, for instance, it wassolely to do Herr Zsabakoff a kindness that he gave a glance at theCzar's papers while arranging them on his writing-table. What he theresaw, no one, not even the ministers, knew; nor did he proclaim it withbeating of drums, but he sold the information without more ado. There isno reason for surprise at this. Other times, other manners. At that timeit had happened that university professors had been known to distributeto students on one day answers to the questions to be put to them on thenext. But in this affair Herr Zsabakoff was not interested to speculateas to whether the Hellenic champions of freedom would be able to holdMissolonghi until the Russian army had advanced to their aid, but merelywhether the Czar's plan that every soldier, besides his customary kit,should carry a flask as a necessary equipment in campaign--consequentlythree hundred thousand metal flasks would be required. The contractorwould make his fortune.
But the honest groom of the chambers had not only communicated thissecret intelligence to friend Zsabakoff, but also to many other similarfriends, who probably were hurrying on the production of flasks by dayand night, for in the course of a fortnight they must be ready.Naturally it would not be the lowest contract which would obtain theorder, but he who best greased the wheels of the Intendant-General'scarriage. Herr Zsabakoff now came to the influential lady to entreat herto use her powers with the potent Intendant-General to persuade the Czarto have _wooden_ flasks made instead of the unwholesome metal ones.Thus, at one fell swoop, would disappear all his metal-flask rivals;Zsabakoff would remain in possession of the field, and could demand hisown price. In order to lend emphasis to his request he had brought alittle present with him which would exactly become its charmingwearer--an antique brilliant _ferronniere_, in the centre of which wasan exquisite solitaire of unusual fire.
"Of course that is merely earnest-money," said the mistress of thehouse. "You are aware that in the case of such a large transaction I goshares in the profit."
"Your Excellency has taken the very words out of my mouth. Depend andrely on it, I am straightforward with you--I always speak the truth. Ialways do the honest thing. Why, then, should I deny it? According tothe price of my contract I gain half a griva on every flask; of that Iwill make over two copecks to your Excellency."
"I tell you what, you make your contract so that it brings you in awhole griva apiece, and give me four copecks on each."
H
err Zsabakoff agreed to this proposition. But Daimona was none toodelicate of her guests' feelings. One of her slaves was a jeweller, andexpert in precious stones. Him she sent for, and, in Zsabakoff'spresence, had the ornament valued. This was her custom. She kept theslave specially for that office. The expert valued it at one thousandfive hundred rubles; but had the centre stone been pure water instead ofyellow it would have been worth two thousand.
"You don't understand anything about it!" screamed Zsabakoff. "Yellowdiamonds are unique; they are called 'fantaisie.' Besides, it is anantique, and great people like antiques best."
"Quite true. All the same, a pure-water solitaire would be worth fivehundred rubles more."
"Do you hear?" quoth Daimona. "Don't forget next time to exchange it fora handsomer and costlier one. And then I prefer it set in gold to thissilver setting."
Zsabakoff promised to obey her behests, and took his leave with as muchkissing of hands and feet as though he had received instead of given.
Some weeks later Zsabakoff came back more amiable and deferential thanthe first time.
"My word is as good as my bond," said he. "Instead of that worn-out old_ferronniere_ I bring you a brand-new one. Look at this stone, yourExcellency. What a fire! how pure! a perfect Golconda brilliant! Itdazzles the eyes like sunlight."
And he went on crying up the new ornament until Daimona gave him backthe old one for it.
"You may have this examined. I am positive your goldsmith will value itat three thousand rubles. And, in fact, it cost every penny as much. ButI don't grudge it you. All I ask is that you write his Excellency byyour special courier, post-haste, that the matter must be at oncedecided. It is in your own interest. For every field-flask you make fourcopecks. I am off; I have not a moment to lose."
And once more recommending the flasks to her Excellency's immediateattention, Herr Zsabakoff, rushing out, jumped into his carriage, drawnby three horses, and drove off as if possessed. This time he did notwait for Daimona to summon the jeweller.
Daimona was in haste to write to Araktseieff anent the flasks. Butwriting with her was a slow process; the pen did not readily obey heruntutored fingers. Only when the letter was finished did she submit thejewels to her goldsmith. He, suspiciously examining the _ferronniere_,begged permission to test it in his laboratory; then told her that, to ajeweller, it would be worth about three rubles. The brilliants were onlyStrasburg paste; the setting plated, not gold.
Daimona, at first, was merely surprised; she could not believe the manmad enough to deceive her in a matter concerning three hundred thousandflasks. It was such a clumsy trick, such an unheard-of affront. Atrinket worth three rubles was only the kind of present that would begiven to a _vivandiere_.
"Hi, Schinko!" screeched Daimona. Whereupon her factotum appeared, ahandsome, muscular fellow of the unmistakable gypsy type. "Take a horseat once, take three mounted men with you, and follow the man who justdrove off with three horses abreast! Seize, bind, bring him back. Seeyou do not come back without him!"
The next instant the gypsy was on a horse, without saddle, galloping forhis life. His three followers could scarce keep up with him. Daimona wassatisfied that Schinko would soon come up with Zsabakoff.
But within scarce half an hour the three horsemen, with Schinko at theirhead, came back the way they had gone, and behind them a troika in whichsat a man alone. But not as a prisoner did they bring him; it was theother way about, he drove them before him. From time to time he keptputting his head out of the carriage, threatening the galloping horsemenso ominously with his stick that, as fast as their horses would go theytore homeward, looking back now and again with scared faces.
"What's the meaning of this?" shrieked Daimona, furiously pacing thehall. "Schinko! You hounds! What, run away--you let yourselves be drivenback by one man?"
Yes, when it is that "one" man! Arrived at the castle, and flinging backthe leathern apron of the troika, he sprang up from his seat, roaringwith all the power of his lungs after the runaways.
"You fellows! Just you wait! I'll teach you to molest travellers inbroad daylight on the emperor's highway. A hundred lashes of the knoutfor each of you! I'll have you all fastened to the handle of the pump.Bojiriks, Bontshiks, thieves that ye are!"
It was "he" the master--Araktseieff himself. Daimona was more furiousthan ever. Rushing down the entrance steps into the courtyard beneath,she stood, gasping for breath, before the new-comer.
"Why did you hound back my people? They were pursuing a thief who hadrobbed me! He brought me false stones and stole the real ones. I willhave him brought back--the thief."
But the master of the house paid no attention to her. When he wasabusing some one, whoever it might be, he had no thought for anythingelse. His face was crimson as he alighted from his carriage, holding inone hand a stout knotted stick, in the other a flask by its strap.
Daimona thought him informed of the whole affair, so, seizing him by thecollar of his cloak, she continued:
"It was Zsabakoff--do you hear?--Zsabakoff! You surely have not givenhim the flasks yet?"
"Flasks?" retorted Araktseieff, amazed. "I've only got this one; and Ican't offer you anything from it, for it's empty."
"Oh, the devil take you! The three hundred thousand flasks, I mean, thatthe army are to have in the Turkish War."
And now he was more astonished than ever.
"Three hundred thousand flasks? War? Give yourself time to breathe.What have you been drinking to-day?"
The woman cursed and raved. In a medley of words she mixed up weeks andmonths, copecks and flasks, diamonds worth two thousand rubles,Missolonghi and Omer Brione Pasha, and stormed on so long that at lengthher lord and master, in a fury, flinging his empty flask at her, pushedher aside; whereupon Daimona, to recover her wounded feelings, fell uponthe jeweller, and struck his head with the _corpus delicti_, the pastetiara. Why had he said that a yellow diamond was not as good as a whiteone? It was all his fault that the thief had stolen the real one andmade off with it.
And this was the affectionate reception of the weary statesman to hishome. Perhaps others have shared his experiences--who shall say?
However, at supper they made it up again; and Daimona recounted to himthe history of the field-flasks.
"Well, my dear hen"--this was his pet name for Daimona--"you know moreabout it than I do, whose province it is, as Intendant-General, to seeto the fitting out of the army. I am on leave from court--ostensibly onaccount of my health. This that scoundrel Zsabakoff knew, hence he gotback his present to you. He knew that I am 'very' ill just now."
"But what's the matter with you?"
"The matter is, that I am a follower of the Czar."
"Try to get cured of that ailment."
"I know that I shall soon be recalled, and very soon fall back into myold ailment."
"Bungler! If only you had kept the Czar's favor until the field-flaskcontract had been delivered!"
"Bah! Say no more about it. Sing me something nice. It's so long since Iheard a woman's voice."
Alexis Andreovitch really meant it when he said he wanted to hearDaimona sing. Now, the screech of a peacock was a swan's song comparedwith Daimona's croak. Her voice was out of tune, throaty, and harsh; butif it pleased her lord, what matter? And then the words of her song,with its refrain, "Give him a taste of the knife!" In truth, anextraordinary ditty to choose; and that it should just have come intoDaimona's head! Yet what so extraordinary in it, after all, for thefallen favorite's _chere amie_ to choose a revolutionary song, when hehad been dismissed from court by his imperial master, and when thematter of the flasks was not settled? Surely reason enough that he whoyesterday kissed the dust from off the tyrant's feet to-day should throwit back in his face!
And the fallen favorite did not interrupt her. He listened to everyverse, enjoying the last so much that he chuckled with delight.
"Where did you hear that ridiculous thing?"
"You thick-head! Can't you guess? Didn't you yourself send the
gypsygirl to me to be educated? We have made a thorough success of it."
"Right. Among the many pleasures that await me here is carrying on thatjoke to the bitter end. She drove my son to Archangel! Not a word have Iheard from him yet. What have you been doing to the wench?"
"Just what you directed. If you want some fun we'll have her in."
"Nothing better just now."
Daimona sent a man in search of Diabolka. Meanwhile she whisperedsomething to Alexis Andreovitch, her painted eyebrows dancing withfiendish glee as she did so.
Araktseieff seemed to enter fully into the joke; he laughed so loud thathe made himself quite hoarse, and, striking his fist on the table,shouted:
"Good! Excellent! By Jove! That'll be worth seeing!"
Both were looking grave when the girl came in. She was hardlyrecognizable. A young lady in a long dress, wearing mittens, on her headthe snood of a Russian maiden. She held both hands, in national style,hidden in the long sleeves of her dress, only withdrawing them to kissthe hand of her master and mistress. Her eyes she kept modestly fixed onthe ground.
"Well, dear child, and how do you like being under your mistress'sprotection?"
In a low whisper the girl answered:
"Thanks be to my gracious master for having sent me where I am sohappy."
Araktseieff could scarce repress his laughter.
"You speak like a book."
"That is not my merit, but that of the reverend Herr Prokop, who hasspared no pains to give me the benefit of his instruction."
"Ei, ei! You are quite a fine young lady, I see. You must sit down andhave supper with us. Come, don't be shy! Here, you long-legged fellow,set a cover for the young lady! Here, you lout! Opposite me."
"It will be a great honor to your unworthy maid-servant to be permittedto sit at table with you; but I must ask forgiveness if I eat nothing.Good Father Prokop has inflicted the penance on me of eating no supperfor a whole year."
"For what sin?"
The girl heaved a deep sigh.
"Your Excellency! you know the great sin I have committed, and for whichI never can atone." And she sank her head remorsefully.
Was she really penitent, or was it only hypocrisy?
"And what do you do while others are having their meal?"
"I read the Psalms to them."
"What! you can read already? and the Psalms into the bargain! I shouldlike to hear that. Bring her a Psalm-book. Now sit here and read. Whichone is it?"
The girl, sitting down as she was bid, rested the finger-tip of one handdaintily on the table, while with the forefinger of the other she markedthe syllables as she read, "Lord, the hea-then are come in-to thinein-her-i-tance."
"Wonderful! But do you understand what you are reading about? Who arethe 'heathen'?"
"The _Turks_!" The girl spat out the words, as beseems an orthodoxMuscovite.
"Who is the 'Lord'?"
Rising, the girl answered:
"Our august master, the Czar."
"And what is his 'inheritance'?"
"Greece."
"Very good," returned her master. "How well you have learned to read!And can you write too? And so that you need no one to guide your hand,as when you wrote your first letter? Ha, ha! That was a joke!"
Then, turning to Daimona, he said, so that Diabolka should hear:
"Why, you have made quite a lady of her."
"And I mean to make a good Christian of her, too," responded Daimona.
Diabolka, seeming not to hear, went on spelling out her psalm.
"Come forward, Schinko!" Daimona commanded the man standing behind herchair. "Now, have I not selected a good-looking husband for her?"
"Ah! I sent him to you, too, my lady. Is he not a certain 'cousin' ofyour ward's?"
"That's why I treat him so well. A fine youth! I have no more faithfulservant than he. The peasantry fear him like the very devil. He is myright hand."
"Then I can guess how many floggings he has already administered tothem."
"I will give them their wedding. Then I mean to make Schinko myhouse-steward and Diabolka my confidential maid."
"I will provide the wedding presents."
Diabolka continued reading her psalm without interruption. Any othergirl at least would have simpered when she heard talk of her wedding inpresence of her bridegroom.
"Now we'll finish up supper with a little singing and dancing," said themistress of the house, signing to Schinko.
"Ah! Can Diabolka not only sing sacred songs, but dance too?"
"She neither sings nor dances; she has another calling. There is someone else to do that."
Hereupon twelve pretty young peasant girls entered from a side-door,each with a lute in her hand, their faces expressing more repressed fearthan pleasurable expectation. Behind them slid Schinko, a long whip inone hand, the other leading a small, humpbacked dwarf on a chain, like abear, with a bagpipe under his arm. He was hideously ugly, with a humpbehind and before, his large bald head sunk between his high shoulders.His face was the caricature of a man's face, and so distorted withsmall-pox that it seemed as if the lineaments, being so grotesque, thefell disease had tried to wipe them out; here and there remained a tuftof beard and whisker; he had but one eye. He was revolting to look upon;but when his cheeks distended with the bagpipe he was a perfect monster.A worthier performer on the bleating goat-skin could scarcely beimagined.
"That's classical music," said the master; "but what about the dancing?"
"Wait a minute. That's the best."
Going out once more, Schinko returned with the _ballerina assoluta_,gripping her by the nape of the neck that she might not bite his hand.She was a deformity in woman's shape--a humpbacked dwarf, with long armsreaching to the ground; her stump nose hardly visible; matted-hairgrowing down to her eyebrows; her mouth awry with great protrudingteeth--add to this an evil, bestial stamp on all her features. Such wasthe creature who was to perform a ballet for the amusement of the lordof Grusino. She was clad in a dress of gold paper; therefore it did notmatter if she tore it. She had been taught to dance as monkeys are, andknew she had to do it.
"Blow away, Vuk! Dance, Polyka!" cried Daimona, clapping her hands; andas the bagpipe began its melody the dancer began her parody of aballet-dancer, making such pirouettes that with her long arms, not herfeet, she chased away the chorus, accompanying the bagpipe with theirvoices.
"Hopsa! hopsa!" cried Schinko, every now and then, and touched up thecalves of the dancer's legs with the point of his whip, if she did notspring high enough in the air, at which she made furious grimaces.
Araktseieff and Daimona sank back in their chairs with laughter. Thegreat statesman, the pattern of astute diplomacy, drummed his spurs onthe table in his mirth; while Diabolka, without raising her eyes, evercontinued spelling out her psalm, as though nothing were going on abouther.
At the close of this edifying performance the female monstrosity caughthold of the male by the collar of his coat, and twirled him and hisinstrument round in a waltz, Schinko cracking his whip the while, asthough he were in a circus.
"Well, these two will make a pretty couple, too, I declare!" laughed themaster. "We will celebrate both weddings together."
Upon which Daimona gave him such a sharp pinch on his arm that he criedout.
The very next day Diabolka's wedding-dress was put in hand. AllDaimona's female serfs were at work upon it. Diabolka now usually dinedat the minister's table when he entertained the notables of theneighborhood, all of whom were welcome guests when they could prevailupon themselves to kiss Daimona's hand. A dear repast, in truth!
But his guests had still more to put up with. When Araktseieff had drunktoo much he would grow quarrelsome and come to blows with them. All thesame, they would come back again next day and meet the same fate. Astill costlier price to pay!
Schinko was the chief flogger of the palace; he had to execute all thescourging, whipping, and lashing with the knout. It was his office. Hehad no choice but to carr
y out orders. If his master ordered him tothrash corn, he must do it; if to thrash mujiks, he must thrash them.Lucky that it was his part to administer, not to receive, the lash.Moreover, he was a gypsy; and gypsies, it is known, have stronger nervesthan other men.
The eve of the wedding-day Daimona commanded Diabolka to try on her gaywedding-dress, and to show herself in it to the master.
He admired it, and gave the girl a slap on the cheek.
"Do you see? I am glad you have grown at last into a respectable youngwoman. I raised you out of the mire into which you had sunk. Is it not agood thing to have become a well-behaved girl?"
And Diabolka, falling on her knees before him, kissed his feet.
"Nice to be a bride, eh? Now you love your cousin Schinko, don't you?"
The girl hid her face in confusion.
"Well, show how you can give a kiss. Where's Schinko?"
But Diabolka would not be kissed. Schinko might wait till he wasmarried.
"A sensible girl," said her master, praising her. "Now take her to thepriest, that she may tell her prayers and confess. To-morrow morning herbridesmaids and groomsmen shall fetch her back. You go with her,Schinko!"
After she had gone, Daimona sent for the other bridal couple. They wereworthy of each other, Vuk and Polyka.
The humpbacked bridegroom was dressed in a handsome seal-skin coatreaching down to his toes, his cap adorned with a pair of hare's ears;while the bride, with mouth all awry, was attired as a Turkishodalisque, making her more hideous than ever.
"Upon my word, they're a handsome couple!" laughed Araktseieff. "Iwonder if that great hunch will prevent her kissing him?"
"That doesn't matter," returned Daimona; "her arms are long enough topull out his hair."
Nor did it need much encouragement for her to try it even beforemarriage; a word would have sufficed to give proof of their connubialtenderness.
"It will be rare fun to-morrow!" said Daimona.
"A splendid idea," chimed in her lord.
"Are you satisfied with it?"
"It's a masterwork."
"Well, if you love me, do as I do."
When was he not ready to do it? It was the reason the brutal pair lovedeach other so well that there was nothing so mad devised by the one thatthe other was not ready to join in.
Song followed the carousal. Daimona began the _Knife Song_, andAraktseieff joined in the chorus.
For the sweetest of all the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge iswhen a smooth courtier, whose wont is to flatter, to bow, and to scrape,in the privacy of his chamber can tune up a revolutionary song, andblacken his sovereign and fellow-courtiers to his heart's content.
"Let's have it over again! Where's a glass?" He always dashed his emptyglasses against the wall. But instead of the glass, Schinko brought onhis silver salver a letter, which a mounted messenger had justdelivered.
Araktseieff at once knew the handwriting on the cover. Releasing himselffrom Daimona's arms, he sprang up from the divan, and, hastily wipinghis mouth, pressed the letter to his lips and forehead; then said, in ahollow 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, andsnatched roughly at the pair hanging from Daimona's girdle. And as withtrembling hand he cut the seal, he said, feverishly, "One does not breakthe Czar's seal."
"The Czar's seal?" repeated Daimona, astounded.
It did not take Araktseieff long to read his letter. Besides thesignature were two words only--"Come back!"
"Bring water! Cold water!" he said, imperiously, to Schinko. 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, Schinko;let them put the horses to; twelve horsemen to accompany me withtorches; 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 loveme 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, snatching atthe letter, she cut out a piece with her scissors, which so enragedAraktseieff 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 muchmore, then, a few woman's tears!
The celebration of a double wedding will come off, but he will not bethere to enjoy the fun.
"Quick, quick, Schinko! Then come to my room to shave me."
While at Grusino the minister was in the habit of letting his beard andmustache grow to please Daimona; but always had it shaved off beforereturning to St. Petersburg.
"Take care you don't cut me with your razor," were his first words toSchinko, as he began. Schinko was the only one there to whom heintrusted his throat. "If you slash my face I'll shoot you dead."
His two travelling-pistols lay close to his hand. Schinko was cautious,and completed the operation without disfiguring his master's face. Alucky thing for Araktseieff. For the gypsy was resolved at the slightestslip of his razor to cut his master's throat, that he might not have thechance to carry out his threat. Never had Araktseieff been nearer to hisgrave.
As he finished, the bells on the horses' necks were heard in thecourtyard below.
Thrusting the Czar's letter into his breast-pocket, Araktseieff hurriedaway 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 itsescort of torch-bearers.
It was pitch-dark, the rain coming down in torrents--weather in whichone would not have sent out a scullion.