The Russians Collection

by Michael Phillips

  Mariana’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Not to worry, my dear,” said Durocq. “It is commonly known that most doormen are informers, and it is nothing personal against us. But nevertheless, we cannot be too careful, eh?” He handed Mariana the message before taking his leave.

  It was a plain sealed envelope, and at first she thought it might be from her father. Then she saw the sloppy scrawl on the front. It was very familiar, but it was not her father’s.

  The emotions that tumbled unchecked across her face were all too obvious. Her green eyes fairly burst into life, like one of those fascinating new electric lights being switched on. She tore open the envelope, quickly scanned the few handwritten lines on the single page inside, then jumped up.

  “I must go,” she said. All her previous reticence about seeing Stephan Alexandrovich was instantly gone. He was close at hand, waiting for her. Of course she wanted to see him! How could she ever have felt otherwise?

  “Can I call you a cab?” Daniel asked.

  “No . . . no, it’s not far. I’ll walk.”

  She hurried from the room, not even remembering to say goodbye to Daniel. She didn’t stop for a wrap or hat, but rushed outside bareheaded in her cotton frock. Once outside and striding down the street, she did think about leaving poor Daniel standing there slightly bemused, giving him no apology or explanation. She felt bad about that, but he would understand.

  36

  It turned out to be a much longer walk than she had anticipated. The street named in the note was a different one than she thought, and she had to stop once to ask directions. The tea shop specified in the message was a good fifteen-minute walk, at her brisk pace, from the boardinghouse.

  She was glad she hadn’t bothered getting a coat, for by the time she arrived at the tea shop she was hot and sweaty and out of breath. But her efforts were well rewarded when she glanced in the shop window and saw Stephan seated at a small table.

  He didn’t see her until she stepped inside and a little bell over the door announced her entry. When he glanced up, she wanted to run to him and embrace him and kiss him and hold him, but such a greeting in a public place was out of the question. She didn’t notice that he hardly responded with a similar intensity. He smiled as he stood to meet her, and took her hands in his but let go as soon as they sat at the table.

  “Look at you!” he said, scanning her from head to toe. He took in her silky dark hair pulled back from her face and tied with a ribbon into ringlets that fell softly about her shoulders; her rosy countenance, flushed not only with the exertion of her walk but also with her joy. He noted especially her pretty pale yellow dress, hardly like the simple peasant frocks he was accustomed to seeing her wear, but very fashionable, trimmed with lace and satin ribbons.

  Mariana smiled and looked him over. Gone were his peasant tunic and trousers, replaced with a somewhat ill-fitting and worn brown woolen jacket over a dingy white collarless shirt, brown trousers, and scuffed and cracking knee-high boots. He was now an impoverished student instead of a poor peasant.

  But he still looked wonderful to Mariana.

  “How did you find me?” she asked. “I gave up hope that my inquiries would ever reach you.”

  “I’ve been buried in preparations for end-of-term examinations, and almost completely cut off from society,” he replied. “It was really just chance that someone in the administrator’s office mentioned your inquiries when I went to the office on another matter. They had lost track of the address you had given them and I had to do some detective work to locate you—”

  “But we finally found each other. Oh! It’s like a very romantic story, isn’t it?”

  “Except I can’t put my arms around you and kiss you as I would like to do.”

  Mariana blushed with pleasure.

  Stephan’s expression grew earnest. “But why are you here in St. Petersburg, Mariana? What has happened? You—you look so different.”

  “Stephan, my whole life seems to have changed. I don’t know where to begin. It’s a long story, going back to when I was born. Much of it I already knew, but my mama and papa felt it was best to keep quiet about it. They are not really my parents; they have been caring for me at the request of my real parents. My mother died when I was born, and my father had to leave the country because of some danger. My mama was my real mother’s maid and she asked her to care for me when she died. They didn’t think my real father would stay away so long . . . but he did. Anyway, he turned up not long ago and wished me to come live with him in the city. I wanted to get to know him, and I knew you were here. So I came. And Stephan, you will never believe this—I am a countess now.” She laughed nervously, embarrassed at verbalizing the title she still had not grown accustomed to.

  Stephan stared mutely, unable to take in her astonishing story. She smiled encouragingly at him and took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. But the silent moments ticked by until she could stand it no longer.

  “Stephan, say something!” she implored.

  He licked his lips and shook his head. “You look so beautiful.” But there was a mournful quality in his voice.

  “Thank you.” She frowned, realizing his words were not exactly a compliment.

  “You are living in a fine house, in one of the best sections of St. Petersburg.”

  “It’s really a boardinghouse,” she said apologetically. “My father and I have rooms there, that’s all. My father’s family was once rich and important here, but I don’t think they are anymore. He was abroad for many years.”

  “I was nervous approaching the house,” Stephan said. “That’s why I didn’t try to see you, and only left a message. I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “Oh, Stephan! It may seem as if everything has changed, but one important thing is still the same. I still love you! That will never change.”

  A grin spread across his face. “I was afraid—not because of the fine house or nice clothes—but because it has been such a long time. I have been terrible about writing to you, but with working and studying there is so little time. What spare time I do get, I am so exhausted I usually just collapse in my bed.”

  “I understand. Your studies have to be first for a time. I know how important they are to you.”

  He touched the smooth, soft curve of her chin. “You are such a treasure, my sweet Mariana.”

  “Now that I am here, perhaps it will be easier to see each other.”

  “Yes, of course.” He paused, uncertain. “But it won’t be easy, will it? Is it difficult for you to get away? How will I contact you?”

  “Just come to the boardinghouse; I am usually there. Or send a message as you did today. I don’t see that it should be a problem.”

  “No?” He rubbed his chin, and Mariana noticed for the first time a sparse growth of beard. “That doorman looked down his nose at me. And how do you think the people at that house would react to a visitor like me? And what would your father think?”

  “I don’t care what they think. You are my friend, and I don’t care to be where my friends are not welcome. But you are making too much of this, Stephan. There will be no problems.”

  “Mariana, you may be the same wonderful person on the inside, but I don’t think you understand how things are in this city. Your father may not be as rich as he once was, but he still must be a man of some substance to live in such a place as you do. Do you truly believe he will have no objections to my visiting you?”

  “Well . . . well—” She pursed her lips petulantly and clicked her tongue. “If he objects, I’ll just go home to Katyk. My mama and papa love you and accept you.”

  “And he will let you return to your old home, just like that?”

  These were hard questions she had never really considered. She and the count had talked about visits to Katyk, and her papa said she could come home anytime. But had the count ever made such definite assurances? Well, he certainly couldn’t hold her here against her will—not that he ever would! It was ridiculou
s to even entertain such a notion.

  “Stephan, don’t be so suspicious. I can do as I wish. My father only cares for my happiness.”

  “So, he would not mind at all for a shabby rabble-rouser of a student to come calling on you?”

  “Rabble-rouser? What do you mean by that? You’re not involved with those radical groups at the university, are you?”

  “You can’t attend the university without being involved somewhat, and I suppose I am involved when I can spare the time—”

  “I thought you slept when you had spare time.” She couldn’t help the bitter edge in her tone.

  “Some things must come before sleep—”

  “But I’m not one of those things!”

  “That’s not what I meant. You were a hundred miles away. What good would a letter do, anyway? But great things might one day come from a campus political meeting, or a rally, or a secret meeting.”

  “You attend secret meetings? Oh, Stephan! How can you do that and jeopardize your safety and freedom and your precious education, even our relationship?”

  “So, it would make a difference to your father?” He peered so incisively at her that she looked away.

  “Of course it would. People get arrested and exiled for such things, even for associating with radicals. Would you want your daughter involved with a revolutionary who could get your family sent to Siberia at any time?”

  “If the cause were a worthy one, I would make that sacrifice!” He lifted his head with pride, silently challenging her to slight the nobility of his beliefs.

  “I haven’t known my father long, but I know him well enough to say with certainty that he’d never find that cause worthy enough.”

  “A bourgeois, self-seeking capitalist!”

  “Stephan! Don’t you dare talk of my father that way!”

  Mariana’s face reddened, and her voice rose well above the discreet tones they had been using. The shopkeeper looked their way. His was a respectable establishment, and he’d had qualms about serving the shabbily dressed young man until the pretty, obviously well-bred young woman had come in.

  Stephan realized that he had let his political passions overstep the bounds of good manners. The stark mortification on his face was enough to convince Mariana that he meant his next words.

  “I’m sorry, Mariana. I spoke without thinking. Please forgive me.”

  She hesitated; the heat of the exchange still made her pulse race. But how could she refuse those pleading eyes? She hadn’t wanted to get into a fight now at their first meeting in so very long. It would be for the best to smooth things over, forget about the silly misunderstanding, and get back to more important matters.

  “Of course I forgive you, Stephan!”

  He let out his held breath, grasped her hands once more, and offered her a smile that made her heart leap.

  “I am sure your father is a wonderful man!” he said with more enthusiasm than he truly felt. “I shall meet him anytime you like.”

  Again Mariana hesitated. What would her father think of her peasant lover, and all his political ideas? Her initial enthusiasm gave way to prudent caution.

  “Perhaps,” she said, “it would be best if we took it slowly with him. I mean, I don’t think he is quite ready for me to have a serious relationship with a man.”

  “Yes, I think that’s probably wise.” Stephan’s tone was suddenly clipped and businesslike. And as the spark faded from his eyes, Mariana felt a sinking within.

  “It’s just that everything is so new for us, my father and me, and we need time for our own relationship to strengthen.”

  “I fully understand. I felt from the beginning that would be best.” He seemed to accede to her suggestion all too quickly.

  “Yes, you did, and as usual I had to be stubborn about it,” she said, perhaps a bit defensively.

  “You are still my dear Mariana, even if you are stubborn.”

  “I love you, Stephan!” Mariana suddenly felt much better. “When can we see each other again?”

  “I will be having exams soon, and this term I took an especially heavy load. But when I am done I will send you another message, as I did today.”

  “I won’t be very patient.”

  He smiled. “No, patience was never your best quality. But just keep thinking of how greatly your patience will be rewarded.”

  “I will . . . oh, I will!”

  They parted on congenial terms. Stephan even ventured to kiss her on the cheek before he stepped aboard the trolley that would carry him across town to the university.

  Why then did Mariana feel such disquiet about their meeting? Wasn’t everything patched up? Hadn’t they exchanged words of love? She couldn’t quite remember if he had told her he loved her, but he didn’t have to say it for it to be so. Nevertheless, her stomach churned and rumbled, and she remembered that he had never really said how long his exams would take.

  37

  Stephan focused his attention on a pebble in the street, kicking it along before him as he walked. It had been half an hour since he and Mariana had parted; it took that long for the trolley to cover the distance between the fashionable South Side and his tenement near the university on Vassily Island.

  He was unsettled over the reunion. Of course he had been glad to see her. But it wasn’t easy to understand the changes that had taken place in Mariana. He wasn’t certain he liked them. He had to admit, however, that he had also changed, even though he hadn’t hinted at those changes specifically to Mariana.

  But it was only normal for a young man, fresh from his village for the first time, to kick up his heels a bit. Surely Mariana wouldn’t have expected him to . . . well, curb his entire social life during their lengthy separation. He was only human!

  His guilt-ridden thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a friendly voice.

  “There you are, Kaminsky! I thought you’d miss the meeting.”

  Stephan looked up and saw one of his classmates approach. “Is it already that time?” Stephan had forgotten all about the political discussion group that met weekly.

  “Past time, really, but we won’t be too late if we hurry.”

  Glad for the distraction, Stephan immediately fell into step with his friend.

  The meeting place was a flat a few blocks away, and the two arrived about twenty minutes late. The debate was already under way. Stephan and his friend hunched down on the floor and before long were debating in stride with the others. But Stephan’s mind wandered, as much as he wanted to keep it fixed on less personal matters. He thought of Mariana for a minute or two, until his roving eye fell upon one of the members of the discussion group, a petite girl about his own age, named Eliz. She caught him looking in her direction and smiled, and he, hating himself because he had just been thinking of Mariana, smiled back.

  Within a few minutes they had both subtly inched away from their previous positions until they were sitting together.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” she whispered.

  “I had—uh—some business to take care of,” he answered.

  “These discussion groups are no fun without you, Stephan—especially after they end!” She gave him a coy wink.

  “Come on, now, I want to hear this.”

  “All right, I can be patient.”

  Her comment made Stephan think once more of Mariana. She and Eliz were as different from each other as a worker is from the tsar. And now it seemed as if that applied not only in personality but also in social station. Eliz was the daughter of a well-off businessman, but she had rejected her social position to live in poverty and support the revolutionary cause. It seemed that Mariana had given up her poverty to espouse the upper class.

  How could Mariana turn to a way of life she knew he detested? They had planned to be married; didn’t she realize her actions were practically faithless? In his mind his relationship with Eliz did not compromise his and Mariana’s relationship. Eliz was a friend with whom he had a great deal in common. She
wasn’t nearly as pretty as Mariana. But he had never been able to talk to Mariana as he did with Eliz, about truly important things. So what if he and Eliz didn’t always just talk . . .?

  Stephan asked himself every day if he still planned to marry Mariana. He believed he cared no less for her than he had before, but Eliz was just so close . . . so very close. He simply couldn’t resist her. Eliz understood that he had a girlfriend back home and didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps Mariana would also understand. He hadn’t had the nerve to say anything during their first meeting; maybe he would next time. Mariana was, after all, a very level-headed girl . . . well, usually.

  38

  For the next few weeks, Mariana spent nearly every day with Daniel Trent. She told herself her interest was only a distraction from missing Stephan. It was completely harmless. She did not pause to wonder why, if it was all so harmless, she never told Daniel about Stephan.

  But she was lonely and bored, and her father was absent so much of the time that she had to do something. And she thought that Daniel needed a friend near his own age, too. They actually had a great deal in common; he was a foreigner trying to adjust to a new culture, new people and a new occupation; she was practically a foreigner in this new city and in this affluent lifestyle. Together, they stumbled along, lending each other encouragement and help, and if nothing else, at least friendship.

  In the evenings they went to the ballet or opera. Daniel did not have much appreciation for opera, but since it was a Russian passion, he felt he should endure it for the sake of cultural enlightenment. He did enjoy Glinka’s A Life for the Tsar, the sentimental and nationalistic tale of the peasant, Ivan Soussanin, who saved the life of the first tsar, Michael Romanov. The story told how a group of Poles who wished to place their own man on the throne plotted to murder Michael just after his election. On the way they got caught in a blizzard and lost their way. They happened upon Ivan, who, perceiving their intentions, offered to take them to where Michael was. But the faithful Ivan, instead, led the Poles into the middle of a thick forest, where they found they were even more lost than before. Realizing what he had done, the Poles fell upon the hero, Ivan, and killed him. But Michael’s life was saved.