In the castle a superb banquet was improvised. Music, guests, and rare
dishes were brought together with wonderful speed, and the choicest
wines of the cellar were drawn upon. Prince Boris, bewildered by this
sudden and incredible change in his fortunes, sat at his father's right
hand, while the Princess filled, but with much more beauty and dignity,
the ancient place of the Princess Martha. The golden dishes were set
before her, and the famous family emeralds--in accordance with the
command of Prince Alexis--gleamed among her dark hair and flashed around
her milk-white throat. Her beauty was of a kind so rare in Russia
that it silenced all question and bore down all rivalry. Every one
acknowledged that so lovely a creature had never before been seen.
“Faith, the boy has eyes!” the old Prince constantly repeated, as he
turned away from a new stare of admiration, down the table.
The guests noticed a change in the character of the entertainment. The
idiot, in his tow shirt, had been crammed to repletion in the kitchen,
and was now asleep in the stable. Razboi, the new bear,--the successor
of the slaughtered Mishka,--was chained up out of hearing. The jugglers,
tumblers, and Calmucks still occupied their old place under the gallery,
but their performances were of a highly decorous character. At the
least-sign of a relapse into certain old tricks, more grotesque than
refined, the brows of Prince Alexis would grow dark, and a sharp glance
at Sasha was sufficient to correct the indiscretion. Every one found
this natural enough; for they were equally impressed with the elegance
and purity of the young wife. After the healths had been drunk and the
slumber-flag was raised over the castle, Boris led her into the splendid
apartments of his mother,--now her own,--and knelt at her feet.
“Have I done my part, my Boris?” she asked.
“You are an angel!” he cried. “It was a miracle! My life was not worth
a copek, and I feared for yours. If it will only last!--if it will only
last!”
“It WILL,” said she. “You have taken me from poverty, and given me rank,
wealth, and a proud place in the world: let it be my work to keep the
peace which God has permitted me to establish between you and your
father!”
The change in the old Prince, in fact, was more radical than any one who
knew his former ways of life would have considered possible. He stormed
and swore occasionally, flourished his whip to some purpose, and rode
home from the chase, not outside of a brandy cask, as once, but with
too much of its contents inside of him: but these mild excesses were
comparative virtues. His accesses of blind rage seemed to be at an end.
A powerful, unaccustomed feeling of content subdued his strong nature,
and left its impress on his voice and features. He joked and sang
with his “children,” but not with the wild recklessness of the days of
reisaks and indiscriminate floggings. Both his exactions and his favors
diminished in quantity. Week after week passed by, and there was no sign
of any return to his savage courses.
Nothing annoyed him so much as a reference to his former way of life,
in the presence of the Princess Helena. If her gentle, questioning eyes
happened to rest on him at such times, something very like a blush rose
into his face, and the babbler was silenced with a terribly significant
look. It was enough for her to say, when he threatened an act of cruelty
and injustice, “Father, is that right?” He confusedly retracted his
orders, rather than bear the sorrow of her face.
The promise of another event added to his happiness: Helena would
soon become a mother. As the time drew near he stationed guards at
the distance of a verst around the castle, that no clattering vehicles
should pass, no dogs bark loudly, nor any other disturbance occur which
might agitate the Princess. The choicest sweetmeats and wines, flowers
from Moscow and fruits from Astrakhan, were procured for her; and it was
a wonder that the midwife performed her duty, for she had the fear
of death before her eyes. When the important day at last arrived the
slumber-flag was instantly hoisted, and no mouse dared to squeak in
Kinesma until the cannon announced the advent of a new soul.
That night Prince Alexis lay down in the corridor, outside of
Helena's door: he glared fiercely at the nurse as she entered with the
birth-posset for the young mother. No one else was allowed to pass, that
night, nor the next. Four days afterwards, Sasha, having a message to
the Princess, and supposing the old man to be asleep, attempted to step
noiselessly over his body. In a twinkle the Prince's teeth fastened
themselves in the serf's leg, and held him with the tenacity of a
bull-dog. Sasha did not dare to cry out: he stood, writhing with pain,
until the strong jaws grew weary of their hold, and then crawled away to
dress the bleeding wound. After that, no one tried to break the Prince's
guard.
The christening was on a magnificent scale. Prince Paul of Kostroma was
godfather, and gave the babe the name of Alexis. As the Prince had paid
his respects to Helena just before the ceremony, it may be presumed that
the name was not of his own inspiration. The father and mother were
not allowed to be present, but they learned that the grandfather had
comported himself throughout with great dignity and propriety. The
Archimandrite Sergius obtained from the Metropolitan at Moscow a very
minute fragment of the true cross, which was encased in a hollow bead
of crystal, and hung around the infant's neck by a fine gold chain, as a
precious amulet.
Prince Alexis was never tired of gazing at his grandson and namesake.
“He has more of his mother than of Boris,” he would say. “So much the
better! Strong dark eyes, like the Great Peter,--and what a goodly leg
for a babe! Ha! he makes a tight little fist already,--fit to handle a
whip,--or” (seeing the expression of Helena's face)--“or a sword. He'll
be a proper Prince of Kinesma, my daughter, and we owe it to you.”
Helena smiled, and gave him a grateful glance in return. She had had her
secret fears as to the complete conversion of Prince Alexis; but now she
saw in this babe a new spell whereby he might be bound. Slight as was
her knowledge of men, she yet guessed the tyranny of long-continued
habits; and only her faith, powerful in proportion as it was ignorant,
gave her confidence in the result of the difficult work she had
undertaken.