For pulling Incompetence out of the mire
Your 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 the _yèmshiks_ do, 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 to him. 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, never slackening 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, and _verst_ had
succeeded _verst_ without 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 the _mujiks_
and 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 first _isba_ of 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, her _bashlik_ fallen 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
and Laurence, 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 the _staròstá_ and called him severely to
account, declaring to him that she would send for a _sotnia_ of
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 gallant _négligé_ of 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 a _chauffeuse_ at 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--the _mujiks_ I
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!” countered Tatiana.
“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 masterly _entrée-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. “_They_ probably
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 one _pour-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 dear _Jean-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.