The Queen of Spades, and other stories
hour. At last they ended, and the stout gentleman with the bouquet
announced that the dances of ceremony were ended, and ordered the band
to play a minuet. Korsakoff was delighted, and made ready to show
off. Among the young ladies was one whom he particularly admired. She
was about sixteen, dressed richly but with taste, and sat next an
elderly gentleman of dignified and stern appearance. Korsakoff rushed
up to her and begged the honour of a dance. The young beauty was
disconcerted, and seemed to be at a loss what to say. The man sitting
next her frowned more than before. Korsakoff awaited her reply, when
the gentleman with the bouquet approached, led him to the middle of the
hall, and said pompously:
"Dear sip, you have done wrong. In the first place, you approached this
young person without first rendering her the three requisite salutes,
and secondly, you took upon yourself the right of choosing her, whereas
in the minuet that privilege is hers and not the gentleman's. For this
you must undergo severe punishment, that is you must drain the goblet
of the Great Eagle."
Korsakoff from hour to hour grew more astonished. In a moment the
guests surrounded him, loudly demanding instant compliance with the
law. Peter, hearing the laughter and loud talk, came from the next
room, being very fond of witnessing such punishments. The crowd divided
before him and he stepped into the centre, where stood the accused with
the master of the ceremonies before him holding an enormous cup full
of malmsey wine. He was earnestly persuading the culprit to submit
willingly to the law.
"Aha!" said Peter, seeing Korsakoff, "you are caught, brother. Drink,
monsieur, and no wry faces."
There was nothing for it. The poor dandy, without stopping, drained the
goblet and returned it to the master of the ceremonies.
"Hark, Korsakoff," said Peter, "your breeches are of velvet, the like
even I don't wear, who am much richer than you. That is extravagance,
take care I do not quarrel with you."
After this rebuke Korsakoff wished to leave the circle, but staggered
and nearly fell, to the great delight of the emperor and the merry
company. This incident not only did not mar the harmony nor interest of
the principal entertainment, but on the contrary enlivened it.
The gentlemen began to scrape and bow, and the ladies to curtsy and
knock their little heels together with great diligence, no longer
keeping time to the music. Korsakoff could not share in the general
merriment. By her father Gavril Afanassievitch Rjevski's orders, the
lady whom Korsakoff had chosen approached Ibrahim, and, dropping her
eyes, timidly held out her hand to him. Ibrahim danced the minuet with
her and led her back to her seat, then went in search of Korsakoff,
led him out of the hall, placed him in the carriage, and drove him
home. At the beginning of the journey Korsakoff mumbled, "Curses upon
the soiree and the goblet of the Great Eagle," but he soon fell into
a deep sleep. He knew not how he got home, undressed, and was put to
bed, and he awoke next day with a headache, and a dim remembrance of
the scraping, curtseying, and tobacco smoke, the gentleman with the
enormous bouquet, and the mighty goblet of the Great Eagle.
CHAPTER IV.
_(Verse from "Ruslan and Ludmila.")_
"Our forefathers were leisurely souls,
Right leisurely did they dine,
And they ladled slow from their silver bowls
The foaming beer and wine."
I must introduce you, gracious reader, to Gavril Afanassievitch
Rjevski. He came of an ancient noble race, owned vast estates, was
hospitable, loved falconry, had an enormous retinue, and was, in a
word, a good old Russian gentleman. In his own words he could not bear
anything foreign, and in his home he tried to maintain the customs of
the good old days he loved so well. His daughter was seventeen. In
childhood she had lost her mother, and she had been brought up in the
old-fashioned way, amid a crowd of governesses, nurses, companions, and
children from the servants' hall. She could embroider in gold and was
illiterate. Her father, in spite of his dislike to all things foreign,
could not oppose her wish to learn German dances from a captive Swedish
officer living in their house. This worthy dancing master was about
fifty; his right foot had been shot through at the battle of Narva,
and therefore it was not very active at minuets and courantes; but
the left was very dexterous and agile in the more difficult steps.
His young pupil did credit to his teaching. Natalia Gavrilovna was
celebrated at these soirees for her dancing, which was partly the cause
of Korsakoff's proceedings. He came next morning to apologise to Gavril
Afanassievitch. But the young dandy's manner and fine dress displeased
the proud _barin_ who nicknamed him the French monkey.
It was a holiday. Gavril Afanassievitch expected a number of friends
and relations. In the ancient hall a long table was being laid. The
guests were arriving with their wives and daughters, who had at last
been released from their domestic prison by the order and by the
example of the Tsar. Natalia Gavrilovna handed round a silver tray
laden with golden cups, and each guest, as he drained one, regretted
that the kiss which accompanied it on such occasions in olden times was
out of fashion.
They sat down to table. In the place of honour next the host sat his
father-in-law, Prince Boris Alexeievitch Lykoff, a boyar in his
seventieth year. The other guests were placed in order of descent, and
thus recalling the happy times of precedence by office, sat down, men
on one side, women on the other. At the end of the table, the companion
in the old-fashioned dress, a dwarf,--a thirty-year-old infant,
affected and wrinkled,--and the captive dancing master in a shabby dark
blue uniform, took their accustomed seats. The table, covered with a
great number of dishes, was surrounded by numerous and busy servants,
distinguishable among whom was the butler, with severe mien, big
stomach, and pompous immobility. The first few moments of dinner were
devoted entirely to the dishes of our time-honoured Russian cookery.
The rattle of plates and the activity of spoons produced a general
taciturnity.
At last the host, perceiving that the time had come for entertaining
the guests with agreeable conversation, turned and asked:
"Where, then, is Ekimovna? Let her be summoned!"
Several attendants were about to rush off in different directions,
when an old woman, painted white and pink, decorated with flowers and
tinsel, in a silk damask gown with a low neck, entered, singing and
dancing. Her advent occasioned general delight.
"Good-day to you, Ekimovna?" said Prince Lykoff. "How are you getting
on?"
"Well and healthily, gossip; all night dancing, my suitors awaiting."
"Where have you been, fool?" asked the host.
"Dressing, gossip, to receive the dear guests, on the Lord's festival,
by order of the Tsar, by command of the master, to the derision of the
world in the German style."
At these words there was a loud burst of laughter, and the jester took
her place behind the host's chair.
"And folly talks foolishly, and sometimes tells the truth in her
folly," said Tatiana Afanassievna, eldest sister of the host, and much
respected by him. "Naturally the present style of dress must seem
ridiculous to everybody. When you, my friends, have shaved your beards
and put on a short coat, it is of course no use talking of women's
rags; but really it is a pity the sarafan, the maiden's ribbons, and
the povoinik [a head-dress] should be discarded. It is really sad and
comic to see the beauties of to-day, their hair frizzed like flax,
greased and covered with French powder, the waist laced in so tight
that it seems on the point of snapping--their bodies encased in hoops,
so that they have to go sideways through a carriage door. They stoop;
they can neither stand, sit, nor breathe--real martyrs, my poor dears."
"Dear mother Tatiana Afanassievna!" said Kirila Petrovitch, formerly a
_voievod_ at Riasan, where he acquired 3,000 serfs and a young wife,
neither by strictly honourable means. "But my wife may dress as she
likes as long as she does not order new gowns every month and throw
away the previous ones, while still quite perfectly new. Formerly the
granddaughter included in her dowry the grandmother's sarafan; but
now you see the mistress in a gown to-day and to-morrow it is on the
maid. What is to be done? Nothing but ruin confronts the Russian noble.
Very sad!" he said, with a sigh, looking at his Maria Ilienitchna, who
seemed to like neither his praise of olden times nor his disparagement
of the latest fashions. The rest of the ladies shared her displeasure,
but they said nothing, for modesty was in those days still deemed
essential in young women.
"And who is to blame?" asked Gravril Afanassievitch, frothing a mug of
_kissli shtchi_ (sort of lemonade). "Is it not our own fault? The young
women play the fool and we encourage them."
"What can we do? We cannot help ourselves," replied Kirila Petrovitch.
"A man would gladly shut his wife up in the house, but she is summoned
with beating of drums to attend the assemblies. The husband follows
the whip, but the wife runs after dress. Oh, those assemblies! The Lord
has sent them upon us to punish us for our sins."
Maria Ilienitchna sat on needles; her tongue itched. At last she could
bear it no longer, and turning to her husband inquired with a little
acid smile what he found to object to in the assemblies.
"This is what I find to object to," replied the irritated husband.
Since they began, husbands cannot manage their wives; wives have
forgotten the teaching of the apostles--that a wife shall reverence her
husband. They trouble themselves not about their domestic affairs, but
about new apparel. They consider not how to please the husband, but
how to attract the officers. And is it becoming, madam, for a Russian
lady--wife or maid--to hobnob with German tobacconists and with their
workmen? Who ever heard of dancing till night and talking with young
men? If they were relatives, all well and good--but with strangers and
with men they do not know."
"I would say a word, but there is a wolf near," said Gavril
Afanassievitch, with a frown. "I confess these assemblies are not to my
taste; at any moment you may jostle against a drunken man, or perhaps
be made drunk yourself to amuse others. Then there is the danger
that some blackguard may be up to mischief with your daughter; the
modern young men are so spoilt, it is disgraceful. Take for instance
the son of the late Evgraff Sergueievitch Korsakoff; who at the last
assembly made such a fuss about Natasha, that he brought the blood into
my cheeks. Next day he coolly drives up to my gate. I was wondering
whether it could be Prince Alexander Danilovitch. No such luck. Ivan
Evgrafovitch! He would not stop at the gate and take the trouble to
walk up to the door, it is not likely! Korsakoff rushed in, bowing
and scraping, and chattered at such a rate, the Lord preserve us! The
fool Ekimovna mimics him most comically; by-the-bye, fool, give us the
foreign monkey."
Foolish Ekimovna seized the cover off a dish, tucked it under her arm
like a hat, and began wriggling, scraping with her feet, and bowing
in all directions, saying _monsieur_, _mademoiselle_, _assemblée_,
_pardon_. General and prolonged laughter again showed the delight of
the guests.
"Exactly like Korsakoff," said old Prince Lykoff, wiping away his tears
of laughter when the noise had gradually subsided. "It must be owned,
however, he is not the first nor the last who has come from foreign
parts to holy Russia a buffoon. What do our children learn abroad? To