by Boris Akunin
‘Verywell. That will really not be excessive familiarity, because after all that you have been through – that is, that you and I have been through – I dare to hope that you and I . . .’ I hesitated and blushed painfully. ‘That you and I . . .’
‘Yes?’ she said with an affectionate nod. ‘Tell me. Tell me.’
‘That you and I can think of ourselves not just as colleagues, but as friends.’
‘Friends?’
I thought I heard a note of disappointment in her voice.
‘Well, of course I am not so presumptuous as to expect a particularly close or intimate friendship.’ I corrected myself quickly so that she would not think Iwas exploiting the situation in order to inveigle myself into her confidence. ‘We have simply become good companions. And I am very glad of it . . . There.’
I did not say any more, because I thought there had in any case already been a highly significant shift in our relationship: the right to address each other by our first names had been legitimised, and in addition I had offered her my friendship, and my offer seemed to have been received favourably.
And yet Emilie was looking at me as if she had been expecting something else.
‘You regard me as a friend, a companion?’ she asked after a long pause, as if she were making quite sure.
‘Yes, as a dear friend,’ I confirmed, casting my reserve aside.
Then Mademoiselle sighed, closed her eyes and said in a quiet voice: ‘I’m sorry, Athanas. I am very tired. I am going to sleep.’
I could not tell when she fell asleep. Her breast carried on rising and falling evenly, her long eyelashes fluttered slightly, and occasionally a shadow ran across her face like a small cloud passing over the smooth surface of bright azure waters.
I spent the whole night alternating between brief periods of shallow sleep and periods of wakefulness. Emilie only had to stir or sigh and I immediately opened my eyes, wondering if I should bring her some water, tuck her in or adjust her pillow. I was not at all distressed by these frequent awakenings; on the contrary, I found them pleasant, even delightful. It was a long, long time since I had felt such peace.
1 Athanas, how funny you are without your sideburns. I dreamed about you. I am still dreaming.
2 Emilie, where is the prince?
3 I do not know . . .
19 May
I served a genuine breakfast: with chinaware and silverware on a starched tablecloth. Without a chef of course it is impossible to prepare anything proper, but even so there was an omelette and cheeses and smoked meats.
Emiliewas lookingmuch better today and she ate with a great appetite. Her eyes flashed with life and her voice was strong and cheerful. Women possess an astounding ability to recover from the most grievous of ailments if the conditions of their life suddenly change for the better. I had had the opportunity to witness such transformations on many occasions. It is also true that members of the weaker sex are affected most positively by the company of men and male attention, and in this sensewe treated Mademoiselle like a genuine queen.
Fandorin came to breakfast in morning tails and a white tie, clearly demonstrating that the liberties that he had been obliged to take the previous day had in no way diminished his respect for our guest. I appreciated his gesture. To tell the truth, the tenor of my own thoughts was similar, only, unlike Erast Petrovich, I did not have any clothes into which I could change and had to make do with shaving my exposed features properly.
Whilewewere drinking coffee – Iwas also at the table because I was not present as a butler but as a private individual – Erast Petrovich spoke about our business. The conversation was conducted in French.
‘I did not sleep very much last night, but I did do a lot of thinking. The reason for my unforgivable error seems clear to me now. I had not expected such audacity from Doctor Lind. In all his previous operations he has behaved with extreme caution. But evidently this time the prize was too great and Lind decided to occupy the most advantageous position possible. Being inside the Hermitage, he was able to observe all our preparations. And another source of information for him was Mr Carr, so artfully offered up to Simeon Alexandrovich. The drama of passions and jealousies was probably no more than a performance. The governor general confided in his English darling, who then told everything he had heard to the false Lord Banville.’
‘Perhaps the doctor’s audacity is explained by the fact that he has decided to retire forever once he has his colossal trophy?’ Emilie suggested. ‘How much money does a man need, after all?’
Fandorin twisted down the corner of his mouth.
‘I do not know what this man likes more, money or sheer villainy. He is no ordinary moneygrubber, he is a true poet of evil, a virtuoso engineer of cunning and cruelty. I am sure that the doctor derives pleasure from the erection of his brain-teasing constructions, and this time he has truly excelled himself by raising up a veritable Eiffel Tower. We have undercut this complicated structure, and it has collapsed, but its fragments appear to have caused substantial damage to the edifice of the Russian monarchy.’
I sighed heavily, thinking that the previous day’s catastrophe could indeed lead to quite unforeseeable consequences. If only there was no uprising as a result. And it was frightening to think what the émigré newspapers and the press of hostile nations would write.
‘I did not fully understand the allegory of the collapsed tower, but it seems to me, Erast, that you have precisely defined the most important feature of Lind’s character,’ Emilie said, nodding in agreement. ‘He is truly a poet of evil. And of hate. This man is full of hate, he literally exudes it. If only you had heard how he pronounces your name! I am certain that settling accounts with you means just as much to him as this ill-fated diamond. By the way, did I understand the meaning of the doctor’s curses correctly? You still have the stone?’
‘Would you like to take a look at it?’
Fandorin took a folded handkerchief out of his pocket and extracted the diamond from it. The bluish facets drew in the rays of the morning sun and glittered with bright rainbow sparks.
‘So much light,’ Mademoiselle said thoughtfully, screwing her eyes up slightly against the unbearable radiance. ‘I know what light that is. Over the centuries the stone has extinguished many lives, and they are all still shining there, inside it. I would wager that in the last few days the Orlov has begun to sparkle more brightly than ever, after absorbing new nourishment.’
She glanced at me, or rather at the top of my head, and said: ‘Forgive me, Athanas. Yesterday I was too concerned with myself and I did not even ask what happened to you. Where did you get that purple lump on your head?’
‘Ah yes, you know nothing about it!’ I exclaimed. ‘That is why you did not understand the Eiffel Tower.’
And I told her about the previous day’s carnage at the Khodynsk Field, concluding my narrative with the words: ‘Lind is not merely ruthless but also preternaturally cunning. Thousands of people were killed, but he survived unscathed.’
‘No, no, this is more than just cunning,’ said Mademoiselle, throwing up her hands, and the bedspread slipped off her shoulder.
The three of us would certainly have looked very strange to an outsider: Fandorin in a white tie, I in a torn jacket and Mademoiselle wrapped in a silk bedspread – we had no other clothing there for Emilie.
‘I think Doctor Lind is one of those people who likes to kill two hares with one stone,’ Mademoiselle continued. ‘When we were running through that appalling underground passage, he said something to his men in German after you shouted about the exchange: “I have four matters to deal with in Moscow: the diamond, Fandorin, Prince Simeon and that Judas, Carr.” From this I conclude, Erast, that your assumption about Lind play-acting jealousy is false. He was genuinely affronted by his lover’s betrayal. And as for yesterday’s catastrophe, most probably it was meant to serve a different purpose – to settle scores with the governor general of Moscow. If Lind had simply wanted to get away, he wou
ld have invented something less complicated and less risky. After all, he could have been trampled underfoot in the crush himself.’
‘You are a very intelligent woman, Mademoiselle,’ Erast Petrovich said in a serious voice. ‘And so you think that the life of our lover of dyed carnations is in danger?’
‘Undoubtedly. Lind is one of those people who never retreat or forgive. His failure will only further incite the hate that is seething and boiling inside him. You know, I formed the impression that those men attached some special, almost mystical significance to homosexuality. Lind’s cut-throats did not simply fear or respect their leader; it seemed to me that they were in love with him – if that word is appropriate here. Lind is like a sultan in a harem, only instead of odalisques he is surrounded by thieves and murderers. I think you were right about Mr Carr – for Lind he was something like a lapdog or a greyhound, an occasion for mixing work and pleasure. I am certain the doctor will not forgive him for being unfaithful.’
‘Then we have to save Carr.’ Fandorin put his crumpled napkin down on the table and stood up. ‘Emilie, we shall send you to the Hermitage, and you will warn the Englishman of the danger.’
‘Are you suggesting I should appear in the palace wrapped in this rag?’ Mademoiselle exclaimed indignantly. ‘Not for the world! I would rather go back to the cellar!’
Erast Petrovich rubbed his chin, perplexed.
‘Indeed. You are right. I had not thought of that. Ziukin, do you know anything about women’s dresses, hats, shoes and all the rest of it?’
‘Very little indeed,’ I admitted.
‘And I know even less. But there is nothing to be done. Let us give Emilie a chance to perform her morning toilette, while we make a visit to the shops on Myasnitskaya Street. We shall buy something there. Emilie, will you trust our taste?’
Mademoiselle pressed one hand to her heart.
‘My dear gentlemen, I trust you in everything.’
We stopped at the Myasnitsky Gate and hesitantly surveyed the frontages of the ready-made-clothing shops.
‘How do you like that one there?’ Fandorin asked, pointing to a gleaming shop window bearing a sign – THE LATEST PARIS FASHIONS.
‘I have heard Her Imperial Highness say that this season the fashion is for everything from London. And also let us not forget that Mademoiselle Declique does not have those things that a respectable lady cannot manage without.’
‘In what s-sense?’ Fandorin asked, staring at me dull-wittedly and I had to express my meaning more directly: ‘Underclothes, stockings, pantaloons.’
‘Yes, yes, indeed. I tell you what, Ziukin. I can see that you are a man well-informed about such matters. You give the orders.’
The first difficulties arose in the shoe shop. Looking at the piles of boxes, I suddenly realised that I had absolutely no idea what size we needed. But here Fandorin’s keen powers of observation proved most helpful. He showed the salesman his open palm and said: ‘That length plus one and a half inches. I think that will be just right.’
‘And what style would you like?’ the salesman asked, squirming obsequiously. ‘We have prunellas on a three-quarter heel – the very latest chic. Or perhaps you would like satin lace-ups, Turkish sateen slippers, Russian leather bottines from Kimry, chaussurettes from Albin Picquot?’
We looked at each other.
‘Give us the ones that are the latest chic,’ Fandorin decided boldly and paid nineteen roubles and fifty kopecks.
We moved on, carrying a lilac-coloured box. The sight of this elegant cardboard construction reminded me of another container that I had not seen since the previous day.
‘Where is the casket?’ I asked, suddenly anxious. ‘What if thieves should break in? You know Moscow is full of riff-raff.’
‘Do not be c-concerned, Ziukin. I have hidden the casket where even the detective department of the police will not find it,’ he reassured me.
We bought a dress and hat rather easily in the shop BEAU BRUMMEL. GOODS FROM LONDON. We were both rather taken by a dress of light straw-coloured barège with gold thread and a cape. Fandorin paid out a hundred and thirty-five roubles for it and upon my soul, it was well worth the money. The hat of lace tulle (my choice) cost twenty-five roubles. Erast Petrovich considered the paper violets on the crown excessive, but in my opinion they matched Emilie’s eyes perfectly.
We had a hard time of it in the lady’s underwear shop. We were delayed here for a long time because we were unable to give a proper answer to a single question that the saleswoman asked. Fandorin looked embarrassed and I wished the earth would open up and swallow me, especially when the shameless girl started enquiring about the size of the bust. It was in this shop that I overheard a conversation that completely spoiled my mood, so that I took no further part in discussing the purchases and relied entirely on Erast Petrovich.
Two ladies were talking to each other – in low voices, but I could hear everything quite clearly.
‘. . . and the sovereign shed a tear and said: “This is a sign from above that I should not rule. I shall set aside the crown and go into a monastery, to spend the rest of my days praying for the souls of those who have been killed,”’ said one of the women, a plump and self-important individual but, judging by her appearance, not from the very highest society. ‘My Serge heard that with his own ears because yesterday he was His Majesty’s duty orderly.’
‘Such nobility of soul!’ exclaimed her companion, a somewhat younger and simpler lady, gazing respectfully at the plump woman. ‘But what about Simeon Alexandrovich? Is it true what they say, that he was the one who persuaded the tsar and tsarina to go to that ill-fated ball?’
I cautiously stole closer, pretending to be absorbed in studying some lacy bloomers with frills and ribbons.
‘Absolutely true,’ said the first woman, lowering her voice. ‘Serge heard His Highness say: “It’s nothing important. The hoi polloi have trampled each other in the rush to get hold of something for nothing. Stop playing the baby, Nicky, and get on with ruling.”’
The fat lady seemed unlikely to have enough imagination to invent something like that. How like Simeon Alexandrovich it was to repeat word for word the phrase that was spoken to Alexander the Blessed by the killer of his father!
‘Ah, Filippa Karlovna, but why did they have to go to the French ambassador’s ball on such an evening?’
Filippa Karlovna sighed dolefully. ‘What can I tell you Polinka? I can only repeat what Serge said: “When God wants to punish someone, He takes away their reason.” You see, Count Montebello had ordered a hundred thousand roses to be brought from France especially for the ball. If the ball had been postponed, the roses would have withered. And so Their Majesties came to the rout but as a token of mourning they did not dance. And now there are rumours among the common folk that the tsar and his German woman danced with delight at knowing they had killed so many Orthodox souls. It’s terrible, simply terrible!’
Oh Lord, I thought, what inexcusable frivolity! To set the whole of Russia against oneself for the sake of some roses! The Khodynsk Field tragedy could still have been explained by some unfortunate confluence of circumstances; an exemplary trial of the organisers of the revels could have been arranged – anything at all, as long as the authority of the supreme ruler was maintained. But now universal hatred would be directed not only against the governor general of Moscow, but also against the tsar and tsarina, and everybody would say roses are more important to them than people.
We walked back along the street, carrying numerous boxes and bundles. I do not know what Fandorin was thinking about, but he had an air of concentration – probably he was making plans for further action. With an effort I also forced myself to start thinking in practical terms: how could we find the fugitive Lord Banville and Mikhail Georgievich?
Suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘And Freyby?’ I exclaimed.
‘What about Freyby?’
‘We have forgotten all about him, but he is one of Lind’
s men too, that is obvious! And the doctor left him in the Hermitage for a good reason – to act as his spy! Why, of course!’ I groaned, appalled at the belatedness of my realisation. ‘Freyby behaved strangely from the beginning. On the very first day he said that there must be a spy in the house. He deliberately led us astray so that suspicion would not fall on him! And there is something else. I completely forgot to tell you. When Lieutenant Endlung and I set out to follow Banville and Carr, Freyby said to me: “Look more carefully today.” I was struck by it at the time – as if he knew what I was going out to do!’
‘“Look more carefully today”? That is what he said?’ Fandorin asked in surprise.
‘Yes, with the help of his dictionary.’
We were obliged to interrupt our conversation because we were already approaching the house.
Mademoiselle greeted us still wearing the same bedspread, but with her hair neatly brushed and smelling fragrant.
‘Oh, presents!’ she exclaimed, surveying our baggage with delight. ‘Quick, quick!’
And she set about untying the ribbons and string right there in the hallway.
‘Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce que c’est?’1 Emilie muttered as she extracted the pantaloons chosen by Erast Petrovich from their pink packaging. ‘Quelle horreur!Pour qui me prenez vous?’2
Fandorin was a pitiful sight. His face fell completely when Mademoiselle declared that the pink corset with the lilac lacing was absolutely vulgar, only coquettes wore things like that and it exceeded her modest proportions by at least three sizes.
I was indignant. This man could not be trusted to do anything! I had only been distracted for a minute, and he had spoiled everything. The silk stockings were the only purchase he had made that received approval.
But there was a shock in store for me too. When she took the wonderful hat with violets that I liked so much out of its box, Mademoiselle first raised her eyebrows in surprise and then laughed. She ran across to the mirror and turned her head this way and that.