The Russians Collection

by Michael Phillips

  “Then gather your things, and I’ll send someone for them, and you come back to your room.”

  “Now, Princess . . . tonight?”

  “Yes, of course tonight. But leave that apron, and change your clothes first. The smell of onions and garlic and boiling cabbage is beginning to overwhelm me!”

  “What shall I say to Olga, Princess? She will not be pleased if I tell her I am leaving again. She may not let me—”

  “You leave Olga Stephanovna to me. If she dares meddle in my affairs I’ll give her cause not to be pleased!”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  “You just go tell whoever it is you answer to—”

  “That would be Polya, Princess.”

  “You tell her I have told you to come with me. Then change your clothes and be along.”

  “Yes, Princess.”

  “I’ll expect you within half an hour to draw my bath. Now that that’s settled, show me how to get out of this place—I’m about to suffocate!”

  42

  An hour and a half later, Princess Katrina Fedorcenko lay back in the warm water of her bath and let out a contented sigh. Anna had just left the room after pouring in the final pitcher of hot water, and now Katrina was free to close her eyes and bask in the warmth, and enjoy the fragrance of the wildflower-scented bubbles all about her. She hadn’t been able to get the smells of that foul kitchen and pantry out of her nose and had poured in an extra spoonful of the expensive bath oil for good measure.

  She certainly felt better about things than she had a few hours ago.

  Her father’s words hadn’t been altogether pleasant. But he was right. She had wronged Anna, and now that she had apologized and got Anna out of that dreadful kitchen and back here, everything would be fine again.

  Or so Katrina tried to tell herself. Then why did she still feel uneasy? Why was her conscience still nagging at her?

  Katrina splashed some water and bubbles about, scrubbed her legs and feet, but soon fell to thinking again.

  Perhaps she hadn’t done enough. As difficult as it had been to say the words, her apology hadn’t seemed to put Anna’s mind much at ease. For the last hour it had been “Yes, Princess” this, or “Yes, Princess” that. Anna acted just like the timid, fearful peasant girl she was on her first day. They had been more free and relaxed around one another these last weeks. But now, after Katrina’s outburst over the Bible, all that seemed ruined.

  Reflecting on it, the princess supposed she had been rather abrupt, even when apologizing—still ordering Anna about, telling her where to go and what to do, to change her clothes, to make her bath. That’s how it was with servants; but perhaps she should have been more gentle.

  I will talk to her again, Katrina determined. Servant or no, she did like Anna, and she wanted her to be more than just a maid. There was—what was it? Something about the girl that was different than anyone else Katrina had had around—either friends or servants. She couldn’t exactly say what it was. She and Anna certainly could not have been more different. Yet something about the girl drew Katrina, attracted her. Even in Anna’s quiet reserve, Katrina detected an inner strength of character, something that Katrina herself did not possess.

  Several days passed, however, before circumstances and Katrina’s resolve combined to allow the two girls to talk at length again. Usually very direct, the young princess found it one of the most difficult things she had ever had to do—going to a servant and opening her heart in a humbling and forthright manner. It was a new experience for her. The former Katrina would never have submitted to such torture. But the Katrina, in whom was being born true womanhood, found herself on the uncharted road of vulnerable human honesty. What drew her forward she could not have said herself. The first steps would not be easy. The result, however, would turn every tentative fearful footstep into a triumph of growth.

  “Anna, could you come into my bedroom?” Katrina said at length three evenings later. “I wish to speak with you.”

  Anna obeyed. From her tone she knew immediately that something out of the ordinary was on the princess’s mind.

  “I want to talk to you again about the Bible,” Katrina went on the moment Anna was seated rather stiffly in a chair. Anna nodded but said nothing, trembling inside over what new accusation was about to be leveled against her. But she needn’t have worried. Katrina’s heart beat with more fear—though of a different kind—than she had ever experienced around someone her own age.

  “I told you that I was sorry for what happened,” Katrina began, then faltered.

  “Yes, Princess,” offered Anna timidly. “It was very kind of you. I will be very careful about anything I touch in the future.” As she spoke she looked down at the floor, not daring to glance up at her mistress.

  “No, no, Anna,” Katrina burst out, “that’s not it at all! That isn’t why I brought you in here.”

  “I am sorry, Princess.”

  “Oh, Anna, please! Stop being so nice . . . so afraid to say anything . . . so afraid even to look at me. Don’t you understand—I feel badly about what I did. I want to apologize for the harsh things I said.”

  The words tumbled rapidly out of her mouth. Then suddenly the room was silent as both girls tried, each in her own way, to take in what had just occurred.

  Slowly Anna lifted her head, unprepared for the sight that met her eyes. There, in the eyes of self-assured, confident, gritty Katrina Fedorcenko, was a look of uncertainty, nervousness, and pain.

  As their eyes met, Katrina managed but a few more words, in a voice that was by now altogether contrite and broken.

  “I . . . I’m sorry, Anna, and . . . I hope you can forgive me.”

  Speechless, tears of gladness rose to Anna’s eyes and threatened to spill over if she opened her mouth. Yet she had to speak, and as she did the tears trickled from her eyes.

  “Thank you, Princess,” she said with a soft smile. “I . . . I do not know what to say, but your . . . your words mean so much that I—”

  Suddenly a choking caught in her throat and she could say no more.

  “Here,” said Katrina, her own voice turning husky as she handed Anna a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

  Anna smiled her thanks, took it, and wiped her eyes.

  “I know now,” said Katrina, “and I think I knew even then, but wouldn’t admit it, that you would never take something that wasn’t yours. You are not that kind of person, Anna. I promise, I will try to do better in the future.”

  “Oh, Princess, you have been so good to me! You must not worry over anything you said. It was an easy mistake that anyone could have made.”

  “But I should not have made it. I should have known you better. And I did—down inside. You are a good person, Anna Burenin, and I do not want to lose you again by doing something foolish!”

  Anna again dabbed her eyes. She could hardly believe what she was hearing! “Thank you, Princess,” she said softly. “It is an honor to be your maid.”

  Both girls were silent a few moments.

  “Several months ago,” Katrina said at length, “I thought it was you who had a lot to learn.”

  “I did, Princess,” replied Anna with a timid laugh. “Everything was so new to me.”

  “About being a maid to a princess, perhaps,” Katrina went on. “But perhaps I have things to learn too.”

  “There are things we all need to learn,” offered Anna.

  “But you, Anna, you have learned many things already that I now find myself thinking about for the first time. So perhaps we can learn together, and help one another too.”

  “I don’t know how I could possibly help you, Princess.”

  “With life, Anna . . . people . . . just with living. I’ve watched you, though I hardly knew I was doing so. But now I think you know more than I may have given you credit for—more than I myself.”

  “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

  “You are a giving person, Anna. You care about people. That night at the Winter Palace, you
were reluctant to deliver my message to Count Remizov. At first I was annoyed. I thought you were being slow-witted. The whole thing with Dmitri turned out so horrible, now I wonder if you didn’t almost sense that it was a mistake from the beginning and hoped to spare me from something I was too blind and stubborn to see. So you see, there are things I can learn from you.”

  Anna did not reply.

  “You may be quiet and timid, Anna. But I think more is rumbling around inside that head of yours than perhaps people like me see. You listen, Anna, and think. Those also are things I have done all too little. And perhaps that is why I often behave foolishly.”

  “I think you are too hard on yourself, Princess,” said Anna. “Everything you are saying to me, as much as my heart is grateful for your kindness, only shows that you are thinking and trying to understand in the same way that maybe I myself do.”

  “I hope you are right. But if you are, I am only beginning to learn.”

  “Where learning begins, more always follows.”

  Katrina nodded thoughtfully, as if she were trying to digest Anna’s words one at a time to absorb their meaning.

  “My brother was right to be impressed with you,” she said after a moment, almost as if she were musing to herself.

  A tinge of pink rose to Anna’s cheeks at the thought of the young prince voicing praise of her to his sister.

  “You and he are alike in many ways. Sergei is a listener and a thinker too. I trust his opinion. I think I can trust yours as well. So, Anna, if ever you see me about to make a fool of myself—as I did with Dmitri—I want you to speak up and say so, no matter what. Even if I rant and rave, you tell me what you think. I promise I won’t dismiss you for being honest with me.”

  “I will try, Princess. But that will be very difficult. You are a princess, and I am only a servant, and not even an experienced one.”

  “But you care about me, do you not?”

  “Of course, Princess.”

  “You see—that counts for more than all the experience in the world! That’s why I know I can trust you.”

  “You are most kind.”

  “And speaking of my brother—”

  At the words a knot suddenly rose in Anna’s stomach. Notwithstanding Katrina’s outpouring of honesty and sympathetic feelings, she could not help fearing a reprisal for being so long with the prince during the ball.

  “He spoke admiringly of you. He said you were very intelligent, and had read things I wouldn’t even know how to find, much less read. Is it true, what Sergei said?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Anna modestly. “I do like to read.”

  “I have no head for studies. I suppose I must get that from my mother. What kinds of books do you read, Anna?”

  “I read and reread anything I can obtain, Your Highness, and in the little village I am from that is precious little, I’m afraid. But when I had no books I spent my time thinking about what I had read instead, and trying to understand it.”

  “Why do you like to read? It seems terribly boring to me.”

  “Oh, because I want to know things. I want to learn. Aren’t you hungry to find out about . . . well, I don’t know . . . just about everything?”

  “No, I don’t suppose I am.”

  “What I know now is only a speck compared to what I would like to know.”

  “Well, that is more than I can say for myself,” replied Katrina. “I don’t suppose I see the use of it all. For a man it’s different. But what does a woman need to know of the goings-on in the world? What does a woman do but keep her children fed and clothed and bathed, and see that the servants mind what they’re about?”

  “Is that all you want in life, Princess?”

  “What else is there?”

  “Oh, so much more! Through books you can travel and explore and meet people and find out new ways of looking at things—all while you go about your regular duties, never leaving your house. I can’t imagine how tedious it would all be without things to think about from what I’ve read.”

  Katrina sighed. “You sound just like my tutor,” she said. The next instant her bright green eyes flashed with excitement.

  “Of course! It was Sergei’s idea in the first place. I thought it was silly back then, but now I think it would be wonderful.”

  “What idea?”

  “He suggested that you sit in with me during my studies. Papa won’t send me away to the Young Ladies Conservatory, where he thinks I would become a hopeless snob. Instead I have my own tutor. I hate it, though it would probably be just as bad at the boarding school.”

  “What is it like, having a tutor?”

  “Oh, Fingal is a funny little man, odd to look at, thin, with a dreadful high-pitched voice and the most comical Scottish accent. He’s forever turning things into religious lectures and moralizes positively everything. But whenever I complain, Papa just says, ‘That is how the Scots are, Katitchka—a nation of preachers.’ And he’s even worse when he becomes engrossed in politics, whether talking about the English or the Slav question here in Russia. The man can talk for hours!”

  “Do you like him?”

  “No, I can hardly stand the sight of him. That’s why having you there might make it tolerable, besides giving you some education in the process. For the life of me I cannot see what Papa sees in the man. I think it has something to do with past loyalties—Fingal’s father may have had something to do with it. Anyway, Papa considers him brilliant and wise and won’t hear of my being taught by anyone else. I don’t know why—I scarcely remember a word he’s ever taught me. Will you come with me tomorrow to the room off the library where I have lessons?”

  “You would do such a thing for me, Princess?” asked Anna, incredulous.

  “Of course. Why not? As I said, it would be as much for my own benefit as for yours. I have been a great disappointment to my father in the area of my education. Perhaps with your help I can at last make him proud. What do you say, Anna?”

  “Yes . . . of course. I cannot think of anything I would like more. Thank you, thank you very much!”

  “Good. I’m glad that’s settled at least.”

  The conversation seemed at last to be over. Anna rose from the bed to go. She handed the handkerchief back to her mistress, but then thought better of it and drew her hand back in.

  “I will launder this and return it to you tomorrow, Your Highness,” she said.

  “Keep it, Anna . . . please,” Katrina replied, her eyes serious and her tone earnest. “I would like you to have it as a token, a reminder of our new relationship.”

  “I will treasure it, Princess.”

  “And Anna . . .”

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “In the future, I would like for you to call me Princess Katrina. Somehow, after what has happened recently, I do not think I will like hearing Your Highness any longer from your lips.”

  Anna smiled, a smile filled with a new love for her mistress. “I will be most honored . . . Princess Katrina.”

  43

  “Well, Anna, I am so delighted to have you join us,” said the short, wiry Scotsman named Fingal. “Princess Katrina spoke with me yesterday, and since her father has no objections, neither do I.”

  He smiled warmly and indicated a seat for Anna opposite Katrina.

  The man’s voice was precisely what Katrina’s words had led Anna to expect—high and scratchy, with such a thick Scottish infusion into the Russian language that his words took some time to figure out at first. To have looked at him from a distance, or to have heard his voice from the rear, a young child’s reaction might well have been fear. Katrina had also been right about his appearance—he was an odd-looking creature, with lightish red hair on top of his head and a funny-looking little goatee extending down from his chin into a sharp point.

  But with one look into his bright eyes, and one smile from his lips, Anna knew in an instant she had discovered a friend. By the time the morning was half over, she was no longer aware of t
he raspiness of his voice or the accent of his tongue. The tender earnestness with which he spoke to them told Anna that he, too, was hungry for knowledge and loved learning as she did. And when he alluded to God in the course of the morning, it reminded Anna of her father. Fingal, like old Yevno Burenin, spoke of Him in the most natural way, taking for granted that the Creator of the universe was an intrinsic part of every aspect of life. Anna understood why his words sounded like religious moralizing to Katrina; his references to God would pop out during a discussion about any topic without warning. To one unaccustomed to observing a heavenly hand in all the earth’s affairs, such a mingling of the temporal and spiritual must have seemed peculiar, out of step with life’s realities. To Anna, on the other hand, such spontaneous comments came like cool water to a thirsty soul.

  When she lay down that night in her bed, Anna closed her eyes with a wonderful quiet sense of peace throughout her entire being. Just to hear someone else talking again about books and ideas gave her renewed hope that she could continue to grow even in the midst of her routine duties.

  The next morning she could hardly wait for the hour when she and Princess Katrina would join Fingal Aonghas, who insisted they call him by his first name. “My last name is absolutely unpronounceable to the Russian tongue!” he had said.

  “We were talking yesterday of the religious trends during the reign of Alexander I,” began the Scotsman when the girls were seated. “I brought with me something to read to you about what Alexander himself thought of it all.”

  He paused to open a large volume he was holding, then squinted his thin eyes as he scanned up and down the page to find his place. “This was written in the tsar’s own hand in 1814 when he traveled to Europe for the Congress of Vienna. Just listen to what—”

  “It’s so boring, Fingal,” objected Katrina.

  “Boring, Princess? This is our present tsar’s own uncle. You do not find his interest in the Bible to be intriguing?”

  “I do not. Priests are interested in the Bible too, but what does that have to do with me?”

  “Nor his interest in prophecies of the future?”