Reginald sat in a corner of the Princess's salon and tried to forgive the
furniture, which started out with an obvious intention of being Louis
Quinze, but relapsed at frequent intervals into Wilhelm II.
He classified the Princess with that distinct type of woman that looks as
if it habitually went out to feed hens in the rain.
Her name was Olga; she kept what she hoped and believed to be a
fox-terrier, and professed what she thought were Socialist opinions. It
is not necessary to be called Olga if you are a Russian Princess; in
fact, Reginald knew quite a number who were called Vera; but the
fox-terrier and the Socialism are essential.
"The Countess Lomshen keeps a bull-dog," said the Princess suddenly. "In
England is it more chic to have a bull-dog than a fox-terrier?"
Reginald threw his mind back over the canine fashions of the last ten
years and gave an evasive answer.
"Do you think her handsome, the Countess Lomshen?" asked the Princess.
Reginald thought the Countess's complexion suggested an exclusive diet of
macaroons and pale sherry. He said so.
"But that cannot be possible," said the Princess triumphantly; "I've seen
her eating fish-soup at Donon's."
The Princess always defended a friend's complexion if it was really bad.
With her, as with a great many of her sex, charity began at homeliness
and did not generally progress much farther.
Reginald withdrew his macaroon and sherry theory, and became interested
in a case of miniatures.
"That?" said the Princess; "that is the old Princess Lorikoff. She lived
in Millionaya Street, near the Winter Palace, and was one of the Court
ladies of the old Russian school. Her knowledge of people and events was
extremely limited; but she used to patronise every one who came in
contact with her. There was a story that when she died and left the
Millionaya for Heaven she addressed St. Peter in her formal staccato
French: 'Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff. Il me donne grand plaisir a
faire votre connaissance. Je vous en prie me presenter au Bon Dieu.'
St. Peter made the desired introduction, and the Princess addressed le
Bon Dieu: 'Je suis la Princesse Lor-i-koff. Il me donne grand plaisir a
faire votre connaissance. On a souvent parle de vous a l'eglise de la
rue Million.'"
"Only the old and the clergy of Established churches know how to be
flippant gracefully," commented Reginald; "which reminds me that in the
Anglican Church in a certain foreign capital, which shall be nameless, I
was present the other day when one of the junior chaplains was preaching
in aid of distressed somethings or other, and he brought a really
eloquent passage to a close with the remark, 'The tears of the afflicted,
to what shall I liken them--to diamonds?' The other junior chaplain, who
had been dozing out of professional jealousy, awoke with a start and
asked hurriedly, 'Shall I play to diamonds, partner?' It didn't improve
matters when the senior chaplain remarked dreamily but with painful
distinctness, 'Double diamonds.' Every one looked at the preacher, half
expecting him to redouble, but he contented himself with scoring what
points he could under the circumstances."
"You English are always so frivolous," said the Princess. "In Russia we
have too many troubles to permit of our being light-hearted."
Reginald gave a delicate shiver, such as an Italian greyhound might give
in contemplating the approach of an ice age of which he personally
disapproved, and resigned himself to the inevitable political discussion.
"Nothing that you hear about us in England is true," was the Princess's
hopeful beginning.
"I always refused to learn Russian geography at school," observed
Reginald; "I was certain some of the names must be wrong."
"Everything is wrong with our system of government," continued the
Princess placidly. "The Bureaucrats think only of their pockets, and the
people are exploited and plundered in every direction, and everything is
mismanaged."
"With us," said Reginald, "a Cabinet usually gets the credit of being
depraved and worthless beyond the bounds of human conception by the time
it has been in office about four years."
"But if it is a bad Government you can turn it out at the elections,"
argued the Princess.
"As far as I remember, we generally do," said Reginald.
"But here it is dreadful, every one goes to such extremes. In England
you never go to extremes."
"We go to the Albert Hall," explained Reginald.
"There is always a see-saw with us between repression and violence,"
continued the Princess; "and the pity of it is the people are really not
in the least inclined to be anything but peaceable. Nowhere will you
find people more good-natured, or family circles where there is more
affection."
"There I agree with you," said Reginald. "I know a boy who lives
somewhere on the French Quay who is a case in point. His hair curls
naturally, especially on Sundays, and he plays bridge well, even for a
Russian, which is saying much. I don't think he has any other
accomplishments, but his family affection is really of a very high order.
When his maternal grandmother died he didn't go as far as to give up
bridge altogether, but he declared on nothing but black suits for the
next three months. That, I think, was really beautiful."
The Princess was not impressed.
"I think you must be very self-indulgent and live only for amusement,"
she said, "a life of pleasure-seeking and card-playing and dissipation
brings only dissatisfaction. You will find that out some day."
"Oh, I know it turns out that way sometimes," assented Reginald.
"Forbidden fizz is often the sweetest."
But the remark was wasted on the Princess, who preferred champagne that
had at least a suggestion of dissolved barley-sugar.
"I hope you will come and see me again," she said, in a tone that
prevented the hope from becoming too infectious; adding as a happy
afterthought, "you must come to stay with us in the country."
Her particular part of the country was a few hundred versts the other
side of Tamboff, with some fifteen miles of agrarian disturbance between
her and the nearest neighbour. Reginald felt that there is some privacy
which should be sacred from intrusion.