CHAPTER XIIIFor pulling Incompetence out of the mireYour guerdon is Hatred, and nothing higher.
For pulling Incompetence out of the mireYour guerdon is Hatred, and nothing higher.
For pulling Incompetence out of the mireYour guerdon is Hatred, and nothing higher.
“What time is it?” the Duchesse de Salvières asked as best she could through her face-coverings, of the man who sat beside her in the flying sleigh, so enveloped in furs that he looked like a bear.
Fadéi, first coachman of Madame de Salvières, and, as she was wont to say, an old friend of her childhood—a statement that would certainly have horrified Laurence—cast a speculative glance toward the night-sky and the stars, sparkling icily above the lane of snow between the two walls of trees, and, bending sideways, he called out with perfect certainty, “Five o’clock, Highness!”
Tatiana snuggled her head again into her double hood, and for the first time touched the middle horse with her whip, which she immediately replaced in its socket, for she was driving with both hands outstretched as theyèmshiksdo, and straight ahead, avoiding the finesses to which fingerless fur-lined gloves do not lend themselves.
“Barine,” a stallion of extraordinary beauty and corresponding fire, sprang forward, dragging his two running-mates with him, so that the pace became terrific. Bending over the rigid bar of the leather apron, Tatiana encouraged the horses by an occasional shrill whistle, which, coming through her mask, had a peculiarly alarming sound, and although twice Fadéi had ventured an imploring hand upon her sleeve, she refused to relinquish the ribbons tohim. It seemed to her somehow that were she—as she termed it—“not at the wheel,” her impatience to arrive, great as it already was, would be doubled. A night drive through her forests in winter was no novelty to her, and besides she was extremely anxious, for with the natural exaggeration of messengers in general and himself in particular, Platon had made the most of his evil news, and, to hear him, Tatiana might have believed that her nephew and sister-in-law were on the point of being put to the torture in short order. Of course she did not credit all that had been reported to her; but still, knowing Laurence as she knew her now, and also the mood of the Tverna peasantry ever since Basil’s unpopular marriage, she could not but feel far from reassured, and her hurry was well-nigh desperate.
Luckily the storm blowing at the beginning of the night had ceased as suddenly as it had started, and from the hour of her departure from home, a brilliant moon had slid steadily down the slope of the steel-blue Heavens, diffusing a grateful silver effulgence aslant the forest roads. Also there was a pallid aurora pulsating to the north, somewhere behind the tree-screen, mounting and descending in gold-shot primrose billows that were reflected from aloft, and shed an intermittent glamour upon the sleeping world.
“What folly is that woman not capable of!” reflected Tatiana. “Platon spoke of her wanting to run away with Garrassime and Piotr! That really would be the climax, and in such a case the people might be hard to deal with.”
On and on flew the sleigh, swift as a swallow skimming over water, and pretty nearly as silent; for Tatiana was driving without bells, and the whispered “zzzzipp” of the smooth runners was scarcely audible at such a speed.
Hours seemed to pass like this, however. With unerring knowledge Tatiana threaded path after path, neverslackening to consult the large numerals painted on white boards that indicate the way. She knew it by heart. At last the trees began to thin. Long since she had passed from her own land into her brother’s, andversthad succeededverstwithout a break. If it was necessary to kill the horses, she would unhesitatingly do so, dearly as she loved them, for her one idea was Piotr, Basil’s beloved boy, and she must be there before some rash move on Laurence’s part could arouse themujiksand bring about much trouble.
The red awakening of a new day had but just flamed up in the east when she glimpsed from afar the firstisbaof the village; here and there a patch of brilliant color caught her keen gaze, and she remembered that this was Sunday, when, winter or summer, the folk don their finest costumes to go to early church. And then of a sudden she saw a crowd of people surrounding something she could not quite distinguish. There were arms raised, thrashing the icy air, and as she drew nearer, the sound of angry voices mounting to a dull roar that penetrated even the heavy furs of her head-covering. Leaping to her feet, Tatiana lashed her horses savagely, while Fadéi, grasping her knees, steadied her in an agony of fear lest she should be dragged over the apron-bar and thrown headlong beneath the flying hoofs of the animals, who, quite unaccustomed to such severe treatment, were now running away for fair. Cries and imprecations greeted the reckless dash through the crowd, but little did Tatiana heed whom she upset, for she had caught sight of another sleigh pitching and tossing in the most amazing fashion right ahead of hers in the middle of the road, its horses struggling with a cluster of vociferating men hanging to their heads, its driver prone on his face in the snow, blood trickling from his forehead, and huddled amid fur robes and rugs two women clinging to each other.
“Burn the coward! Burn the coward! Drag her out!She’s a bad woman, an evil witch!” yelled the mob, milling round the sleigh. “She’s running away from the Prince! She’s deserting Prince Piotr! The villain! Enough of her! Into the oven with her!” clamored the women in their red petticoats and mitre-like coiffures broidered with gold and silver and little pearls.
Ghastly white, herbashlikfallen from head and face, Laurence, absolutely maddened with terror, clung to Célèste, expecting the end at every second. The little maid held her tight, rocking in unison with every plunge of the horses, every pitching of the sleigh, but still game.
Tatiana pulled up with a violent jerk—reinforced by Fadéi, who had seized the loops of the reins from behind—and, tearing the fur mask from her face, she jumped to the hard, frozen ground.
“Back!” she cried, in a voice that could be heard to the limits of the crowd. “Back! In the name of the Czar! Do you all want to go to Siberia?”
There was a sudden recoil—the people tumbling affrightedly over one another, horrified at what they had done. The nearest fell on their knees before her in the trampled snow, or groveled like animals upon their faces, some trying to get at her hands, others clutching at the hem of her skirt, to kiss it. “Our Princess! Our own Princess!” they cried. “Take the worthless one away! Give us our own Princess!” Delirium was rampant, emotions of every imaginable kind alive and writhing, but Tatiana was the very person to deal with such a crisis. In a trice she had freed herself from all those imploring hands, cuffing a few heads with a quick “Get out of the way, Fèdor-Ivànovitch! Here, you Andrèi-Petrovitch, quit howling! Anna-Stéfanôvnà, you’ll get something for yourself if you don’t look out! Shame on you silly sheep! How did you dare? Where are you,staròstá? What do you mean by letting such an outrage be done?” etc., etc., etc., until she reached the half-overturned sleigh andLaurence, who at the first sign of help had fainted. It took Tatiana little time or trouble to have her removed to her own sleigh, and to drive her, together with Célèste—very pale but quite calm—back to the Castle, followed by uproarious demands for forgiveness from the repentant and frightened multitude.
An hour after her descent upon this scene of disorder there was no longer any sign of confusion, either in the village or at the Castle, where she had found the servants huddled in every corner, trembling with fright, and Garrassime, almost beside himself with wrath and indignation, mounting guard over Master Piotr, who, it appeared, was determined to take the law into his own hands and go and thrash everybody without further delay. From Garrassime the Duchess learned that before any one was astir, Fidèlka, Célèste’s admirer, had brought round to a side entrance a sleigh and pair, in which the Princess and her maid had taken their places. It was just at sun-up, and a few moments later Garrassime had been awakened at his post across the door of his unruly young charge’s room by a breathless groom running in to report the flight of the Princess. He (Garrassime) explained that, having opened a window, he had seen the people gathering in masses upon the street below the rock, and had even heard shrieks upon shrieks as soon as the runaways had come into view; but that he could not leave Prince Piotr for a moment, for, having been aroused by the groom’s story, the boy had behaved—begging her Excellency’s pardon—like a young devil! Ah, he had blood, had the little Seigneur! Heaven be praised, he had blood! And just then, as if to demonstrate the truth of this greatly understated report, Piotr himself afforded his aunt evidence that left nothing to be desired, by creating an uproar of angular power.
At last, having summoned thestaròstáand called him severely to account, declaring to him that she would sendfor asotniaof Kossàks should he prove incapable of keeping his people quiet—a terrible menace indeed—Tatiana swallowed a hasty breakfast, and then bent her calm and inexorable steps toward Laurence’s room.
She found that young lady sitting in front of a roaring log-fire, wrapped in a gallantnégligéof the most daintily flowered silk, her hair in unbound glory, and on her face an expression of almost fiendish ill-temper. As her sister-in-law entered she rose and bowed slightly, omitting, no doubt by an oversight, to thank her for the timely arrival to which she probably owed her life. Indeed, her attitude was that of an unjustly accused and badly treated prisoner standing before his judge, rather than that of a grateful relative receiving her rescuer.
“I am sorry you had such a bad time of it this morning,” Tatiana said, pleasantly. “If you’ll allow me to do so, I will sit down and talk the matter over with you a bit.” And suiting the action to the words, she possessed herself of achauffeuseat the other side of the hearth and looked steadily into Laurence’s sulky eyes.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” the latter said, shortly, dismissing Célèste from the room with a nod. “I sent for you to protect me from infuriated beasts to whose ways you are better used than I. I am obliged to you for coming so promptly. That is, I think, all there is to be said.”
Tatiana, gazing into the dancing flames, smiled. She had not expected to find her brother’s wife in a chastened mood, and was not disappointed. As to gratitude, she well knew that this quality would be lacking from any and every thought of this surprisingly heartless girl.
“I am glad I was in time,” she quietly remarked. “Our peasants, however, are not beasts, though they are apt to become a little too impulsive when egged on—and there is no doubt that they are being periodically egged on—by an ever-increasing horde of professional agitators;also they require a firm and kind hand on the reins at any season. This being so, I am afraid you acted unwisely when you refused to interest yourself in their welfare.”
“Why should I interest myself in their affairs at all?” Laurence asked, with surprising disdain. “I see no reason why I should.”
“Perhaps you forget that it is your duty to do so,” was the disconcerting reply. “When you married my brother you did so with your eyes open. He did not conceal from you that the condition of his peasants was very near his heart. I know that he went so far as to disclose to you the various generous plans he has formed for checking the general spirit of unrest fostered by the imported—I advisedly say imported, since most of it comes from Germany—revolutionary literature and revolutionary counsels, that will in time cause irreparable harm. So I fear that either you should have accepted the bitter with the sweet and helped him in his self-imposed task, or else refused to share a high position and high ideals you felt yourself unable to attain.”
“I do not see that at all!” declared Laurence.
“You do not! That is obvious; but the hour has come when you should, however.”
“Do you imagine,” Laurence exclaimed, shifting the issue, “that it is agreeable, whenever one shows oneself outside one’s own castle grounds, to hear the contemptuous ‘Tfou!’—whatever that means—spat at you, even by the children?”
“I cannot tell you how it feels, never having been subjected to any insult, great or small.”
“Of course you are of this country. They—themujiksI mean—belonged to you when they were serfs—so they like and respect you.”
“Which speaks very well for us ex-serf owners, if you will allow me to say so?”
“Possibly. I don’t try to deny it. But I have never been a slave-driver, and lack all knowledge of the ropes.”
Tatiana gave vent to a curt laugh. “Slave-driving would not, I think, be quite out of your line, my dear; but let that pass. There’s no need for us to quarrel. In any case, I do not quite understand what you are trying to get at!”
“Plainly spoken, I’m trying to get at this: I want to go away from here, once and for all, and I hope you will not interfere with my doing so.”
“I shall most certainly do nothing to help you in that respect!” Tatiana replied, bending forward to rub her hands at the fire, for, what between driving and cuffing, her fingers were still rather stiff and sore.
“Why not?” questioned Laurence, tilting her nose impertinently.
“Because in this benighted land we still believe in the wife’s being subject to her husband, or at least in her awaiting his advice before hazarding some such step as you propose. Basil is away, and in his absence and that of our other brothers, I am the Head of our family here; therefore I refuse to concur in such an action on your part, should you again attempt to bolt.”
“Then am I to understand that you propose to become my jailer in your brother’s stead?”
This time Tatiana laughed heartily. The idea of Basil in the character of his wife’s jailer amused her. “Don’t talk nonsense!” she said, still laughing. “You are overwrought, or you would see the absurdity of your contention. I did not come here of my own volition. You sent for me, and leaving my husband and my children at a second’s notice, I literally flew to your rescue. But if you expect me to become your accomplice in a dire piece of folly, you have reckoned without your—guest; that’s all there is about it!”
She gently beat her hands together to aid the circulation,drew back on her seat, leaned luxuriously among its cushions, and waited for an answer.
“Do you pretend to prevent me from leaving Tverna?” Laurence demanded, insolently. She was reaching a dangerous point of exasperation, and as she glanced at her sister-in-law her eyes were at once furtive and full of revolt.
“Oh! Yes!” the latter replied, unconcernedly. “Yes, decidedly, until Basil returns. Then it will be his affair to deal with the situation.”
“By what means do you intend to coerce me into remaining here, if I don’t wish to?” Laurence inquired, her nose high in the air.
“By extremely reasonable ones. To begin with, I propose to show you how ill-advised it would be for you to defy Basil’s authority.”
“Meaning what?”
“Plainly, my dear, that he would not for an instant countenance your taking the law by storm in so unseemly a fashion. You have been frightened, I understand, by some report of sickness in the village, whereupon, against the direct counsels of a man who was, so to speak, here to guard you and poor little Piotr, you attempted to decamp. The people with unpraiseworthy hastiness gave you a taste of their mettle. I profoundly regret it. But now you have nothing to fear. I am here and will stay with you as long as there is the faintest risk of further trouble. To-day, moreover, I shall communicate with Basil and recall him. If he cannot come at once I will prolong my sojourn, greatly against my own wishes, and in the mean time I ask you, as a sensible woman, to make the best of it, and not to bother me too much. That, I believe, is all I have to say!”
“Supposing I don’t obey your orders?” Laurence cried, defiantly.
“Don’t let us suppose anything of the sort!” counteredTatiana. “Besides, I beg you to observe that so far my orders have been mere advice. But wait a minute.” She rose, touched the bell, and sat down again, utterly disregarding Laurence’s ferocious gaze.
“Célèste,” the Duchess said, quietly, as that gay person answered the summons, “I want to say two words to you.”
“I am at Madame la Duchesse’s orders,” the dauntless Provençale murmured, dropping a very finished little courtesy.
“Madame la Princesse, as you know, has been greatly upset by reports from below there,” and she nodded in the direction of the village, “about some contagious illness or other. She needs quiet and the best of care. This morning’s incident was—er—regrettable, but happily no harm was done, excepting to Fidèlka’s silly pate—an accident he richly deserved. Moreover, he’ll get over that in a day or two. Let me, however, warn you, Célèste, that, devoted as you are to your mistress, you must see how wrong it would be of you to get her into any more scrapes. You conducted yourself very well a while ago. You are brave. I like that.”
“It is Madame la Duchesse who is brave!” burst forth Célèste, who had been quite carried away by Tatiana’s masterlyentrée-en-scène. “Brave as a lion! It was magnificent to witness Madame la Duchesse’s boxing of their ears!”
Tatiana laughed her spontaneous laugh, willingly overlooking the girl’s lack of deportment. She could see that she too was over-excited, which really was not surprising.
“I’m glad you liked it!” she said, simply. “Theyprobably didn’t! And for the present please abandon your warlike propensities. Everybody is going to behave here now, and in a few days the Prince will be back. Meanwhile take the greatest possible care of your mistress.You can go!” she added, and the gesture with which she dismissed her made Célèste mutter as she went:
“Bravo! there’s one who has no cold in her eyes!Sapristi!She’s the genuine article, this Duchess, with her boyish ways and her big, laughing eyes. One might love this onepour-tout-de-bon!”
“You are making yourself at home!” sneered Laurence as soon as the door had closed again.
“That’s precisely what I came for!” replied Tatiana. “And so should you—if I may continue to advise—seeing that this is your own hearth and fireside, after being mine for fifteen years—the age at which I had the luck to marry my dearJean-sans-peur.”
“It’s a long time ago?”
Tatiana got to her feet without any haste. “So it is,” she admitted. “Our first-born is twenty already, which makes me exactly thirty-seven. A ripening time; but what matters? We Palitzins are said to improve with years, like good wine; which is a mercy, my temper not being always of the sweetest! I trust I have controlled it satisfactorily during this charming hour, my dear, but if perchance I did hurt your feelings I am heartily sorry for it. Lie down now and go to sleep for a few hours; it will refresh you immensely; and trust me to attend to everything needful.” With which valediction she left the room, before Laurence had a chance to recommence hostilities.