“It doesn't matter, my love. We are happy like this, aren't we?” Danina reminded him when they spoke of it. They were so happy sharing their little cottage. She had breakfast alone with him every day, on their terrace, and the rest of their meals they took with the family. They were with them all the time, and then shared long, passionate nights alone.
“I want to give you more than a borrowed cottage by the grace of the Czar,” Nikolai said mournfully one day, hating Marie more than ever for not giving him his freedom.
“We will have more one day, and I can continue dancing for as long as I have to.” More than Nikolai, she was resigned to her fate. But he worried about her.
“That woman is going to kill you if you stay at the ballet much longer,” he complained. He was no fonder of Madame Markova than she was of him. And ever since Danina had returned to the ballet four months before, she looked thinner than ever, and she had been exhausted when she arrived from St. Petersburg. It was inhuman how hard she worked.
This time, she was careful to exercise extensively every day so she didn't lose any of her muscle tone while she was in Livadia, and Alexei loved to watch her dance and practice for hours. The Czarina had someone set up a barre for her, and after she exercised, she went on long walks with Nikolai. She was in perfect shape when the month came to an end, but after another idyllic month together, she couldn't bear the thought of leaving him again.
“We can't go on like this forever,” she said sadly, “only seeing each other for a few minutes once a month when you visit. I don't mind having to dance, but I can't bear being away from you.” And there would be no more vacations in sight for her now, until Christmas. The Imperial family had already invited her to spend it with them at Tsarskoe Selo, with Nikolai. She could even have her old cottage, to share with him. But that was nearly four months away, and Danina couldn't bear the thought of all she'd have to go through now to get there. It would be four months of hell at Madame Markova's hands, while she was punished for loving a man more than the ballet. It was an insane way to live.
“I want you to stop dancing at Christmas,” Nikolai finally said on their last night together. “We'll find a way to work it out somehow. Perhaps you can teach ballet to the Grand Duchesses, or some of the ladies in waiting. And perhaps I can find you a small cottage near the palace, so you can be near me.” It was their only hope, if Marie would not agree to divorce him.
“We'll see,” she said patiently. “You must not jeopardize your entire life for me. If Marie makes too much of it, she could make trouble for you with the Czar, or cause a terrible scandal. You don't need that.”
“I'll talk to her about it again when she comes back from England, and then I'll come to see you.”
But as soon as Danina left for St. Petersburg, Alexei fell ill, and Nikolai was needed daily, hourly, for the next six weeks. It was mid-October when he finally was able to see her. By then, Madame Markova kept her as the prima, much to Danina's relief, and she had danced in Giselle, as promised.
But Nikolai had nothing but bad news when he came this time. Alexei was still ill, though slightly better now, just enough for his doctor to leave for a few hours, and two of the Grand Duchesses had come down with influenza, which had also kept him very busy. Danina thought he looked very tired, and sad, although he was obviously happy to see her.
Marie had returned from England two weeks before, and was more adamant than ever that she wouldn't free him. She had begun to hear rumors about Danina, and was threatening to create a huge stir, which could cost him his position, or even any remote association with the Czar and Czarina. In fact, Marie was blackmailing him and holding him hostage, and when he had asked her why, she said he owed it to her to treat her respectably and not embarrass her or their sons, although she admitted that she had never loved him. But she was going to hang on to him at all costs now. She said she found it embarrassing to be left for another woman, particularly a ballerina. She said it as though Danina were a prostitute, and it had enraged him. They had argued endlessly, but he got nowhere with her. And he was very depressed about it, which Danina could easily see.
He came again in November, and Madame Mark ova almost didn't let him see her, but he was so insistent that she finally ran out of excuses. But she only allowed Danina half an hour with him, due to rehearsals. Their only comfort then was knowing that they would be together for three weeks over Christmas and New Year's. For now, it was all they lived for.
He came to all her performances after that, or as many as he was able to attend. And her father came to one as well, as he did each year, but unfortunately they were never at the same performance, so she couldn't introduce Nikolai to her father.
But tragedy struck her family the week before Christmas. Her youngest and favorite brother was killed in Molodechno on the Eastern Front during a battle, and she was in deep mourning for him during her last performance, and still in a somber mood when Nikolai came to take her back to her little guest cottage at Tsarskoe Selo, and he was deeply solicitous of her loss. Knowing her brother was gone now pained her deeply, and even Alexei thought she looked very sad, and much quieter than usual, as he reported to his parents, after he visited Danina just after she arrived.
But Christmas with them was magical, and her spirits rose as she spent time with Nikolai, talking quietly, exchanging books as they had before. He stayed with her openly, as he had at Livadia that summer. They talked about how much they loved each other, and the good times they had shared, but there was little they could say now about their future. Marie had remained entrenched in her unreasonable and immobile position. But he had nonetheless begun to look at small houses for Danina, and was determined to save up enough money to buy one so she could give up dancing, and come to live with him. But they both knew that it would take time, perhaps even a great deal of it, before either of them could afford it. She had promised herself, and him, that she would dance through the spring now, and perhaps until the end of the year.
But as soon as she returned to the ballet this time, she began feeling ill. She ate even less than before, and when he saw her at the end of January, he was seriously dismayed by the way she looked, and how pale she was.
“You're working too hard,” he complained, as usual, but more stridently this time. “Danina, they're going to kill you, if you don't stop.”
“You can't die of dancing.” She smiled, hating to admit to him how ill she felt. She didn't want to worry him, with Marie being so difficult, and the Czarevitch sick again. Nikolai had enough problems to concern him, without adding her health to the rest. But she was growing dizzier by the day, and had nearly fainted twice in class, though she said nothing to anyone, and no one seemed to notice how miserable she felt. By February, she felt so ill that she was actually unable to get out of bed one morning.
She forced herself to dance that afternoon anyway, but when Madame Markova saw her, Danina was sitting on a bench with her eyes closed, and she was looking gray.
“Are you ill again?” Madame Markova asked in an accusing tone, still unwilling and unable to forgive her for her continuing affair with the Czar's young doctor. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she thought it a disgrace, and had distanced herself from Danina.
“No, I'm fine,” Danina said weakly. But Madame Markova followed her with worried eyes all through the next days, and this time when Danina nearly fainted in a rehearsal late one night, Madame Markova saw it instantly and came to her aid.
“Shall I call a doctor for you?” She asked more gently this time. In truth, Danina was giving them all she ever had and more, but it was no longer enough to satisfy the debt Madame Markova felt she owed them. She had been merciless with her, but seeing how ill Danina was, even she relented. “Do you want me to send for Dr. Obrajensky?” she asked, much to Danina's dismay.
Danina would have liked nothing better than to have an excuse to see him, but she didn't want to frighten him, and she felt sure that she was very ill. It was more than a year since s
he had had influenza. But in the ten months since she had returned to the ballet she had pushed herself so relentlessly that she began to think she had destroyed her health, just as Nikolai had warned. Her head swam constantly, she could no longer eat anything without becoming violently ill, and she was exhausted. She could barely put one foot in front of the other, yet she was dancing sixteen and eighteen hours a day, and every night when she went to bed, she felt as though she would die in her bed. Perhaps Nikolai had been right after all, she thought one night as she lay in bed, wanting to vomit and not having the strength to get up again to do it. Perhaps the ballet was going to kill her after all.
Five days later, she was unable to get out of bed, and she felt so ghastly, she didn't care what Madame Markova did to her, or who she called. All Danina wanted to do was lie there and die. She was only sorry she wouldn't see Nikolai again, and wondered who would tell him when she was gone.
She was lying with her eyes closed, drifting out of consciousness, as the room spun slowly around each time she opened her eyes, when she dreamed that she saw him, standing beside her bed. She knew he couldn't be there, and wondered if she was delirious again, as she had been with the influenza. She even heard him speaking to her, and calling her name, and then she saw him turn and say something to Madame Markova, asking her why he hadn't been called sooner.
“She did not want me to call you,” she heard a vision of Madame Markova say, and then she opened her eyes again to see him. Even if the vision wasn't real, she thought, it looked just like Nikolai. She felt his hand on hers then, as he took her pulse, and he bent very near her and asked her if she could hear him. All she could do was nod, she felt too ill to speak anymore.
“We must get her to a hospital,” the vision said very clearly. But she had no fever this time.
He did not yet know what was wrong with her, except that she had been so ill, and hadn't been able to hold anything down, not water or food, in so many days that she actually appeared to be dying. As he looked at her, his eyes filled with tears.
“You have literally worked her to death, Madame,” he said in barely controlled fury, “and you will answer to me if she dies, and to the Czar,” he added for good measure. And as Danina listened to him speak, she realized that he was real, and this time she wasn't dreaming. It really was Nikolai.
“Nikolai?” she said weakly, as he took her hand in his again, and whispered as he bent close to her.
“Don't talk, my love, try to rest. I'm here now.” He was standing next to her and they were talking about hospitals and an ambulance, and she was trying to tell him that she didn't need one. It all seemed like too much trouble. She just wanted to lie in her bed and die, with Nikolai there near her, holding her hand.
He sent everyone away, and examined her quietly, remembering the graceful body with longing. He hadn't been with her for two months now, and nothing had changed. He was as much in love with her as ever, but for the moment the ballet still owned her, as Marie did him. He was beginning to wonder, as was Danina, if they'd ever be together, or if it would always be this way.
“What has been happening to you? Can you tell me, Danina?”
“I don't know … sick all the time …” she mumbled, drifting off to sleep as she talked to him, and then waking again, feeling desperately ill and retching. But her stomach was long since empty. She was beyond bile now. All she had were the dry heaves, as she had had for days. It was easier not to eat or drink at all, so she wouldn't be vomiting every moment. And she was still dancing sixteen hours a day, forcing herself to go on, until she could do no more.
“Danina, talk to me,” he insisted, waking her again. He was beginning to worry that she was going to slip into a coma, from starvation, dehydration, and sheer exhaustion. They were working her to death, literally, and her body seemed to be giving up from the constant pressure, and lack of anything to sustain it. “What are you feeling? How long have you been this way?” He was growing frantic, and they were still waiting to hear if he wanted to take her to the hospital or needed an ambulance. He still wasn't sure, but he was growing more frightened by the way she looked.
“How long have you felt this way?” he asked again. She hadn't been this bad when he last saw her, although she hadn't looked well, and she had admitted to him even then that she hadn't been feeling well lately.
“A month … two months …” she said, sounding groggy.
“Have you been vomiting for that long?” He looked horrified. How long had it been since she'd had proper nourishment? And how long could she survive it? He thanked God that Madame Markova had finally called him. In the end, she was afraid not to, given Danina's indirect connection to the Czar. Besides, despite her rage at her for the past year, in truth, Madame Markova loved her, and even she was terrified by what she saw. “Danina … talk to me…. When did this start? Exactly. Try and remember.” Nikolai pressed her, as Danina opened her eyes, and tried to remember how long she had been ill. It seemed like forever to her.
“January. When I came back from Christmas vacation.” It was nearly two months now. But all she wanted to do was sleep, and she wanted him to stop talking to her.
“Do you have pain anywhere?” He was gently feeling all over her body, but she complained of nothing. She was just desperately weak, and malnourished. She had been literally starving. He thought of her appendix, but there was no sign of infection to show for it, or a bleeding ulcer, but she insisted she had not been vomiting blood or anything dark and ominous, when he asked her. There were no symptoms except that she had vomited endlessly and was now barely conscious, and too weak to move. He didn't even dare take her to the hospital until he knew more about it. He didn't think she had either tuberculosis or typhoid, although the former was not impossible, in which case she would already be in the final stages. But he didn't think so.
He listened to her lungs, her heart. Her pulse was weak, but he could not understand what he was seeing. And then he asked her a question he knew she would think indelicate, but he was not only her lover, he was a doctor, and he needed to know. But her answer to that did not surprise him either. Her system was so entirely depleted, and she danced so much, so long, and so hard, it was not unusual to have a cessation of all female functions, and then suddenly he thought of something else. They had always been careful … always … except after Christmas. Only once. Or twice.
He looked her over carefully again, and then he knew with a sinking heart, and with a gentle hand he felt low on her abdomen and touched a small, barely palpable lump, but it was just big enough to tell him what he hadn't even suspected. She was almost certainly two months pregnant, and she had so brutalized herself, and been so ill, and worked so hard, that she might well have died from it. And if she was pregnant, in the condition she was in, it was a miracle she hadn't lost the baby.
“Danina,” he whispered to her when she woke up again, and looked at him questioningly, “I think you're pregnant.” He said it so softly that he knew no one would hear him, but her eyes widened instantly in surprise. She had thought of it once or twice and then dismissed it from her mind entirely. It could not be. She could not let herself think of it. But as he said it, she knew it, and closed her eyes again, as a tear trickled from the corner of her eyes.
“What will we do now?” she whispered back, looking at him in despair. This truly would destroy both their lives, and Marie would never release him, if only out of vengeance.
“You must come back with me. You can live in the cottage until you're feeling stronger.” But it was only a temporary solution, and they both knew it. They had far bigger problems now.
“And then what?” Danina said sadly. “I cannot go to live with you … you can't marry me … the Czar will take your position away … we can't afford a house yet … and I can't dance for much longer if you're right.” But she knew he was. Some girls had danced for as long as they could, and they were always found out after a month or two, and banished. Some lost their babies from the long hours and grue
ling rehearsals. She knew that. There was no easy answer for her now.
“We'll work it out together,” he said, desperately worried about her. He couldn't even give her a place to live, let alone a place to bring their baby. But he couldn't think of anything sweeter than a child born of their love. Yet there seemed to be no place and no way to have it. And how would they support it once she stopped dancing? Their savings were pitifully small, and she earned more praise than money. And Marie and the boys used every penny he made. “We'll think of something,” he said gently. But she only shook her head and cried softly as he held her. She seemed overwhelmed with despair. “Let me take you back with me,” he said, looking anxious. “No one need know why you're ill. We have to talk about it.” But she knew better than anyone that there was nothing to talk about and nothing to hope for. All their dreams were still far in the future, with no way to attain them.
“I have to stay here,” she said, and the thought of going anywhere made her feel even sicker. This time she could not go with him. But he hated to leave her, especially knowing what he did now.
He stayed with her until late that night, and told Madame Markova he feared a serious ulcer, and he said that he thought that she should return to the cottage at the palace until she was better. But it was Danina who fought him, and told Madame Markova that she didn't want to leave, she felt too ill, and she could get well here just as quickly as at the cottage, which wasn't true, they all knew. But Madame Markova was pleased that she didn't want to go with him. She thought it a hopeful sign that the affair with Nikolai might be ending. It was the first time Danina had resisted anything he said.
“We are perfectly capable of caring for her here, Doctor, though perhaps not as elegantly as at Tsarskoe Selo,” she said with an edge of sarcasm, and Nikolai was distraught that Danina would not agree to go with him. He argued with her endlessly after Madame Markova left them.
Granny Dan Page 11