CHAPTER VI
OLD AGE
Prince Ghedimin was dining that day with his wife. Both he and thePrincess studiously avoided mention of the affair which so abruptlyended the hunt. Yet it was unlikely that the news of it should not havespread throughout the city. The police alone appeared ignorant of it,the shot stag remaining on the spot where it fell. Was it the intentionto remove it at nightfall, when no one could see who took it away?
"Shall I meet you at the opera to-night?" asked the Princess.
"I am not sure if I can be there."
"It would be a pity to remain away. Fraeulein Ilmarine sings in the_Secret Marriage_ for the last time this season. She will have a greatovation."
The Princess firmly believed that Zeneida would be hissed off the stage;and what could be better than that the Prince should have the pleasureof witnessing her humiliation from his wife's box?
"I am awfully sorry that I cannot engage to be there, my dear. As youare aware, it is my night to visit my grandmother, and when once I amthere the dear old lady is sure not to let me come away. She has so muchto ask about every one, and at the stroke of midnight she will expect meto take the organ in the chapel adjoining the apartment and sing throughthe penitential mass; and I cannot refuse her. But if you wish that weshould spend the evening together, why not come with me?"
"Oh, many thanks. I do not sing in masses."
"But you have not once been to see the grandmother since our marriage."
"I think you know that I shrink from dead people."
"But the poor old soul is still living."
"So much the worse--a living death! It makes me shudder to look at amummy, and to think that some day I too shall appear like one!"
"Ah, well! A pleasant evening to you, my love."
"Edifying devotions, your Excellency."
The Prince withdrew. The Princess sent her dwarf after him, that--hiddenamong the orange-trees in the conservatory--he might find out whetherthe Prince had actually gone to his grandmother's apartments, and howlong he stayed there.
Ivan Maximovitch Ghedimin really did pass through the corridor into hisgrandmother's apartments. The old lady inhabited the central block ofthe palace, its windows, on both sides, looking on to the court-yard.
It is twenty years since Anna Feodorovna has left her apartments. Evenin the sultry summer heat, a time when all the aristocrats of thecapital take refuge in the islands of the Neva, she passes it among herfur-hung walls.
Since the spring of 1804, when she had a critical nervous illness, shehas spent her days in a wheel-chair, the being wheeled from the dinnerto the card-table and back again her only exercise. She dreads freshair.
At first she had some society. Three old ladies of her own age used tocome to play whist and gossip with her. Gradually they left off coming;first one, then two, at length all three. No one dared to tell her thatthey were dead; she was told that they found it difficult to mount thestairs. Since then she had played her game of whist alone.
The old lady still wears the old-fashioned cotton costume which was sofashionable in 1803, when the Czar Alexander had forbidden theimportation of foreign woollen stuffs. She thinks that every lady insociety still wears it, and with it a cap and feather, closelyresembling a turban.
It is now twelve years since the last of her contemporaries visited her.All have now been gathered to their fathers. But Anna Feodorovna mustnot know this. All are living, and on every great occasion send hertheir messages and congratulations, exchange consecrated cakes with her,and colored Easter eggs; and on Easter morning she always finds on hertable their illuminated visiting-cards, with the inscription in lettersof gold, "Christos wosskresz."
History for her has stopped with the signing of peace between theEmperors Napoleon I. and Alexander I.; and the appointment, at thatdate, by the Czar, of her only son, Maxim Wassilovitch, to the commandof the new Georgian regiment of Lancers. Georgia had just beenincorporated into Russia, and Anna Feodorovna tells proudly to this dayhow, on one occasion, she had the honor of a conversation withHeraclius, the deposed Emperor of Georgia; how her beloved son, Maxim,brought his Majesty up to her, and although she did not understand whathe said to her--for his ex-Majesty only spoke Persian, which was not atall like either Russian or French--they had had a most interestingconversation.
From that period in history it had been the endeavor of the family thatno rumors of the world and its events should disturb the quiet of thatrevered member. A daily paper was published separately for her, fromwhich every war detail was scrupulously expunged. The reigningsovereigns did nothing in the world but give or take a princess inmarriage, magnanimously yield each other territory, distinguish theirgenerals for no reason whatever; and, that the century might not passover without some blood-shedding, the unbelievers on the far-off islandof Tenedos were occasionally slaughtered; a revolt of the Kurds on theboundaries of Persia would be suppressed from time to time; or Belgradebe conquered by Csernyi-Gyurka. Anna Feodorovna knew nothing of theterrible French invasion, nor of the burning of Moscow; nor that heronly son, Maxim, had fallen in the battle of Borodino. Her paper, on thecontrary, stated that Maxim Wassilovitch had been appointed Governor ofGeorgia, and had at once proceeded there without furlough. From thattime news had regularly come to her from him, and he had sent letters,which her man-servant was obliged to read to her, for her eyes were notcapable now of deciphering handwriting. The good son who never forgothis old mother! Her man-servant, faithful Ihnasko, is everything toher--cook, house-maid, reader. He, too, must be some seventy-five yearsold; thus fifteen years younger than his mistress. No other serving-manwould have held on as he had done, no other have submitted to put a sealto his lips, and have observed silence as to all that was passingwithout. Even among us men there are few Ihnaskos. And on a fete day,such as this, it is especially difficult, when Anna Feodorovna does notplay cards--for card-playing is sinful--and there being no whist, shequestions the more.
Fortunately for her she has a good appetite, and can enjoy all thevarieties of cakes sent her by "her friends" on this last Maslica day.
"Ihnasko, I cannot believe that Sofia Ivanovna prepared these cakesherself. She always stones the raisins so carefully. Try this one."
"You are right, your Highness. But then the poor lady's eyesight is notso good as it was."
"Oh yes; she grows old, like me. Reason enough to see nothing."
(The main reason, however, is that six feet of earth lie between her andthe world.)
"And the little princess, and the brunette countess, have they senttheir usual congratulations to-day? And the Lieutenant-General's wife,who is so hard of hearing?"
"The cards are all laid on the silver table, your Highness."
"And you have acknowledged them in the customary manner?"
"At once, your Highness."
"You should have written in very large characters to theLieutenant-General's lady, for she is so hard of hearing. Has the oldbeggar-woman come for the warm clothing? Was she glad to have it? Didshe not prophesy good luck for this year? Is it not to be a comet year?Ah, there is no chance of that! Have you taken the grand duchesses theirbouquets?"
"I took them. They return their thanks."
"Are neither of them married yet? Dear me! They must be of marriageableage now."
(Both are long married--in their girlhood--to the white bridegroom,Death; but no one has ever told Anna Feodorovna this.)
"How is the old man?"
"As usual."
"Does he make use of the Elizabeth pills I sent him against gout?"
"Constantly."
"Can he sleep at night?"
"Sometimes, yes; sometimes, no."
"Does he not grumble when it is new moon, or the wind blows?"
"At times. But he soon calms down."
"Of course, he always has that horrid pipe in his mouth, and sits inclouds of smoke like a charcoal-burner."
"What else should he do?"
"Wait a minute. Just take him th
ese warm night-caps. I knitted them withred wool for the old man myself. He has always liked red caps. Tell himthat I think of him, though he does not think of me. But what could hesend me--tobacco ashes?"
(Alas! the _old man_ has long become dust and ashes himself. He was AnnaFeodorovna's husband, a martyr to gout, who did not see his wife oncein a year, although they lived in the same house. Neither would visitthe other. She could not endure a pipe; he could not live without it.One day he, too, found that his mausoleum in the Alexander NevskiCathedral was a more peaceful resting-place than his bed; but he wasinterred so silently that his old wife did not know of his death, andcontinued to knit him his red night-caps.)
"Where can Boysie be so long? My boy is surely not ill? It would be afine thing if Boysie forgot me! I will give him a downright scolding forthis."
Hereupon Ihnasko had to calm his old mistress by telling her that"Boysie" had been called upon to attend an important council held by hisImperial Majesty the Czar. Most probably concerning some new grant ofterritory.
That was quite another thing!
Of course, Boysie was a grown-up man now--a man of thirty, and the ownerof many an order set in brilliants. It is her grandson, the haughty,powerful Prince Ivan Maximovitch Ghedimin, whom his old grandmotherstill calls the "Boy."
The lamp has long been lighted; indeed, for days together it is notextinguished. At the least current of air the windows are closelycurtained, and three or four days may pass before daylight is againadmitted. It matters little to the owner of the apartment whether it beday or night; she neither rises nor goes to bed. She lives in herarm-chair. If she is sleepy, she goes to sleep; when she awakes she isready for her food, and with good appetite. Every Sunday her maid washesand dresses her, and that function lasts for the week. When the bells ofthe Isaac Cathedral begin their midnight peal she knows that Sunday hascome round again; when her newspaper is brought to her she knows thatit must be Friday. Sometimes the two, Ihnasko and she, quarrel aboutpolitics.
Just now there are strained relations between mistress and man. Aparagraph in the newspaper has stated that "the heroic George Csernyihas taken the fortress of Belgrade from the Turks."
The mistress chooses to understand by this that Csernyi had stormed thefortress and massacred the unbelievers; the man, on the contrary, takesit literally, that he had bought the fortress from the Turks forsterling cash.
Over this they quarrel hotly.
"When Ivan comes, he shall decide it; and if you are right, you shallhave a brand-new coat trimmed with fox; if I am right, you shall getfive-and-twenty lashes with this rod from my own hands!"
From her hands, who had not the strength to kill a fly! But the oldwoman is vindictive, and has already, for the third time, ordered him tolay out the new coat and the courbash on two chairs, so that the instantIvan comes he shall get either the one or the other. And yet she forgetsall about her anger, Belgrade, and George Csernyi the moment "Boysie"appears on the scene.
He comes in so gently at the tapestried door that she only perceives himwhen he stands before her.
Her Boysie is the handsomest man in the whole capital; he is as tall asthe Czar.
His languishing gray eyes wear an earnest, thoughtful expression.
"Now, you bad boy--to come so late! Is school but just over? Are you notafraid that I shall make you kneel to ask my pardon?"
He is already kneeling before her; and the old grandmother passes herthin, wrinkled hand over his face as he bows his head on her lap.Laughing, she playfully ruffles his hair.
"This naughty Boysie! He knows how to coax his old grandmother, like anykitten. All right; you shall have no blows this time. I forgive you; sono need to cry. He has just the same shaped head as my Maximilian; onlyMaximilian loves me best, for he writes to me every month; and yet he isa great man. At your age two orders of merit already decorated hisbreast. But what have you done? Have you fought yet for the honor ofyour country? Are you following in your father's footsteps?"
The old woman's hands feel over the young man's breast until they restupon the diamond star of the Alexander Nevski order, upon which shecries, joyfully:
"This is no cross; it is a star! And set in brilliants! You have robbedyour father, for this order would have sat well upon him. He is a hero,a great man; the diamond star would well have become him. But he, too,has already obtained the first grade of the order, has he not? And setwith diamonds as fine as these?" (Ah yes--ah yes! he has received it setwith glistening pebbles in the cool sands of the Muscovite soil.) "Butnow stand up. You are a grown-up man, and what would the Czar say if hewere to know that his privy-councillor still knelt, like a boy, at hisgrandmother's knee? Stand up, my dear boy, and tell me about matters ofState. I know how to talk about them. Oh, in Czar Paul's time I was upin everything. It was I who kept the old man back from joining in CountPaklem's conspiracy, or he would be even now in Siberia. Eh, my boy, youlove the Czar? That's right. How many a time has Czar Paul bastinadoedyour grandfather! And he never complained. But now there are noconspiracies throughout the whole land against the Czar."
"None, dear granny."
"If at any time you should hear of plots, mind you tell it at once toheadquarters. If you knew there was a thief lurking under yourgrandmother's bed, would you not straightway drag him out by the legs?Much more is it your sacred duty to destroy all conspiracies against theCzar's Majesty. He who works against the Czar will be punished, but hewho serves him will be richly rewarded. How was it with Kutusoff? Didnot the Czar take the finest jewel from his crown to present to him, andhad a golden leaf set in the empty space with 'Kutusoff' inscribed uponit? The family of the Ghedimins is not inferior to that of theKutusoffs."
Ivan turned pale. The family name, "Ghedimin," and the Czar's crown? Onewas a part of the other. The topic was a dangerous one. High-treasonmight be named in the next breath.
"My whole life I have consecrated to the Czar, granny." And then heblushed at his own words, for he had spoken falsely. He neither can nordare tell the truth to living soul. His old grandmother is the onlybeing on earth he really loves; and her, too, he must deceive. Frommorning to night his life is a lie; he must look men in the face andlie; must lie to baffle the spies ever on his track, so that at night hedare not offer up the prayer, "Incline thine ear to me, O God," fordread lest he must lie even to his God.
"I have been waiting for you ever so long. I have had a sharp disputewith Ihnasko, and you must be the arbiter;" and she related the subjectof their dispute. "So now, who is in the right?"
Ivan laughed.
"As far as experience goes, you were right, grandmother; for fortresses,as a rule, are taken by force. But in this case Ihnasko was right, forGeorge Csernyi really did buy Belgrade for good coin of the realm. Sogive the good fellow the coat, and not the whip."
The old lady nodded to her man-servant.
"Do you hear, Ihnasko? Thus should a just judge decide. Like PrinceIvan, he should give the servant right over the master, if need be, evenif it be over his own grandmother. Rejoice, ye people, that your fatewill rest in the hands of a man whose lips only know the truth!"
Ivan turned away.
"But now come nearer, sit down by me, and make your confession. When areyou going to marry? It is high time. Have you not made your choice yet?"
And Ivan had to answer, "No."
He could not tell her that he had been already married three years to awoman who was so utterly heartless that she would not be presented tohis old grandmother because she was afraid of her age and wrinkles--sohe had answered, "No."
"Now you are telling me a fib. Let me feel your pulse. Of course, it wasa fib! And why should you not have fallen in love? Look! in this drawerI am keeping a diadem for your bride; it is the same diadem I wore whenyour grandfather led me to the altar. Then Moscow was the capital of theempire. Where this fine palace stands were nothing but clumps ofwillows. Now, your bride shall adorn herself with this diadem. Take it;I give it you. You best know who is to wear it. The gir
l you love shallbe my very dear granddaughter."
But Ivan, in truth, did not know to whom to give the diadem. He had awife who had no love for him, and he loved a woman who could never behis wife. Thus to neither could he give it.
"I will take care of it, dear granny, until the right one comes."
"But now you will stay to supper with me, will you not, that we may eatthe last Butter-night meal together? You are not going to be off to anybachelor drinking-party--to get into all sorts of wild company? You willstay, like a good son, with the old grandmother."
And so Ivan stayed to supper, and had to declare how much he wasenjoying it, when he had dined but so short a time before, and knew allthe while that in Zeneida's palace a Lucullus-like feast awaited him. Ifhis digestion rebelled against the sacrifice, his heart made it athousand times heavier.
Oh, the unspeakable agony that overpowered him as he thought how at thatvery time his affronted wife would be venting her whole vengeance uponthat other woman who the world knew had thrown her soft shackles overhim, and whom he dared not openly protect, least of all against thisaggressor, his own wife! Had the Czar been in St. Petersburg, she wouldnot have dared to molest her; but, in his absence, his powerfulfavorite, Araktseieff, was supreme.
To tell the truth, Ivan was glad that his absence was compulsory. Awarm, tender-hearted man, of weak will, he was unequal to the situation.Taller by a head than most other men, he had been chosen as a leaderamong them; but the position oppressed him, for, capable as he was inall else, he lacked the necessary courage and decision for the post.
What he would most gladly have done would have been to say adieu onefine day to all his palaces, possessions, confederates, and to Russia,and to go out with Zeneida into the wide world to sing tenor to hersoprano. Perhaps, too, it might have come about, had Zeneida been anordinary artist and nothing more. But the disquieting thought isthere--what may happen to-night on that other stage? Perhaps she isdestined to mortification on the one; but on the other? On those boardsthe blood of the actors is wont to flow.
And all this time his fond grandmother could not press him enough toeat, as she asked news of Maria Louisa and the great Napoleon, of thelittle King of Rome, and many another who had long passed away; to manyof which questions Ivan returned such mixed answers that the goodIhnasko was constantly exercised to set him right, being far betterinformed through his newspapers of all these things than was theabsent-minded Prince.
At the first sound of the bells the old lady conscientiously lays downher knife and fork; and Ihnasko, without awaiting orders, proceeds toclear the table, and spreads another silken cover over it.
It was Lent.
"Let us draw near to our heavenly Father!" whispers the pious old lady.
Ivan kisses her cheeks, and she his.
There was a small door opening out from her bedchamber into the chapel.Opening this, Prince Ghedimin went in; and while his old grandmother,rosary in hand, began telling her beads, the tones of the organ wereheard, and a man's clear voice began chanting the penitential psalm.
"What a good son and a good Christian is my Ivan Maximovitch!" murmuredAnna Feodorovna, amid her prayers. "And what a lovely voice he has! Hemight be one of the Czar's choristers."
And amid the sounds of pealing organ and penitential psalm shereverently thanked the Lord, and, praying for the living and thefaithful dead, fell into peaceful slumber in her arm-chair.
The organ still continues to peal, and penitential psalms ascend, forIvan Maximovitch--Prince Ghedimin--is a good man, and a tender, lovingson.
And yet this again is a fresh lie; for, as Ivan entered the chapel fromhis grandmother's room, one of the Czar's choirmen, who had beenadmitted by a secret door, was already in waiting there, and his task itwas to sing on and play the organ until the old woman had fallen asleep.
Prince Ghedimin, meanwhile, hastily descended the secret staircase andpassed into a masked corridor leading from his palace into the nexthouse. There, quickly assuming a disguise, he jumped into a sledgeawaiting him in the courtyard, and gave the coachman directions where todrive.
Upon the Princess's return from the opera she was informed, both by hisHighness's coachman and her dwarf, that the Prince was still at home,and had not yet left his grandmother's apartments.