Praskovia Soltikof passed that night in the Tsaritsa’s house at
Preobrajensky, for young Tsar Peter would write his promised letter to
Ivan, and that could not be done quickly, since at this time--though in
after years he became a notable letter-writer--the writing of letters
was a slow and laborious matter for him. In the morning I rode with her
to Moscow, Peter having bidden her God-speed at departing, addressing
her as ‘sister,’ to Praskovia’s delight, and bidding her--in case Ivan
should be fool enough to pass her by--return among the maidens who in
two years’ time would assemble for his own bride-choosing.
‘I owe thee much for this, Chelminsky,’ she said as we rode, ‘and if I
should become Tsaritsa I will not forget thy service to me.’
‘Do not forget it in any case,’ I laughed, ‘such as it is; moreover,
maybe I shall be privileged to add to it before many days are past!’
‘As how?’ she asked, surprised.
‘You have not yet seen Ivan,’ I replied. ‘Perhaps when you have seen him
you will take fright, like your father, or feel such an aversion towards
him as no sentiment of ambition can withstand: then you may wish to
escape the fate you now fancy so desirable, and in that case I shall be
at hand to assist you, if possible, out of the quandary into which you
have thrust yourself.’
‘I tell you he may be as ugly as the fiend, as repulsive as a leper,
what care I? It is the sceptre I marry, not the man. They say he marries
only because the Regent will have it so, and is incapable of preferring
one woman over another. Others will choose for him and will choose the
fairest, in the hope that he will afterwards develop so much manhood as
to be moved by her attractions; but once I have him safely I shall take
care that my attractiveness ends.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I tell you honestly that I am sorry for you, and that I
tremble to think what may be your fate if he should, by chance, take a
fancy for you. Imagine such a creature pressing amorous attentions upon
you--bah! could you withstand such a thing?’
‘I am content to leave such questions. Do not attempt to frighten me: I
desire to be called Tsaritsa; it is a prize for which I am prepared to
pay a price; yes, and I will pay it, though be sure I shall be a haggler
in the matter of payment!’
There was no difficulty in obtaining an entrance to the _terem_. I
stated her name and the object of her coming, and the door opened at
once. She gave me a smile as we parted, sweet enough to carry any man’s
affections by storm, and I left the palace with a heavy heart, feeling
as though I had caught a beautiful lamb and brought it for sacrifice.
Indeed, I found myself heartily praying that this poor child might even
yet escape the fate she courted. Maybe, after all, she would not be
chosen. There were many others who were beautiful: two or three,
certainly, might run her a close race. Olga Panief, in her own style,
was as fair as the Soltikof maiden, and my heart beat with a savage hope
that she might be preferred for the hideous destiny of becoming Tsaritsa
to such a Tsar. She had jilted me in the expectation of doing better for
herself at Court--let the Tsar have her and spare this other! Lord! how
I should laugh to see Olga mated with such a creature--she who had
presumed to throw over Chelminsky! It gave me pleasure to picture to
myself the awakening of Olga if she were chosen--awaking to the
knowledge that she had allied herself to this repulsive thing and that
the marriage was a reality!
For Olga to be so caught would be the merriest of jests; but for this
innocent, this child Praskovia, or--worse still--for Vera Kurbatof, who
deserved such a fate least of all, since she did not, like the others,
desire it!--for her to be thus offered a living sacrifice!--that would
indeed be a matter to make the gods weep!
As for Vera, she was at this time in great danger, as I have shown; for
it seemed to me and to many others well informed that the Regent Sophia
had set her heart on the poor girl as the Tsaritsa-to-be--dear saints!
she to be the life-companion of such a Tsar!
But though this were so, and I am still assured that it was, the Regent
was none the less determined that his Highness should have every
opportunity to choose for himself a better or fairer consort than Vera
Kurbatof, if such could be found; and for this reason she was most
strict and most severe in her dealings with the maidens brought to the
_terem_ for inspection and selection--that none should escape before
inspection, or should employ arts by which they might render themselves
less attractive in appearance than nature had made them. For there were
some who did not hesitate to disfigure themselves by staining their
teeth, scratching their faces, or affecting a limp, in order to escape
the being chosen. These back-holders were the minority, of course, and
very few at that; for the greater number were content to throw
everything else to the winds if only they might reach the highest place
and be called Tsaritsa. Doubtless those few who were unwilling to be
chosen were they whom Love had so securely entangled in his net that the
poor fluttering things had lost their heads and were unable to see
salvation except in struggling for freedom.
Thus some preferred, as I say, to disfigure themselves, and a few tried
to escape; and among these latter was a fair maiden, Doonya Meschersky,
who was so terribly in love with her lover, Kostromsky, that they could
not wait upon events, but must needs take destiny into their own hands
and attempt in clumsy fashion to shape their own ends.
This Kostromsky was a desperate and determined swain. Doonya, like other
unwilling candidates, had been forced by her father to enter into
competition with her peers; but Kostromsky swore by all the saints that
he would see to it the Tsar should not reap where he had tilled, and the
two devised a plan of escape which they endeavoured to carry out when
Doonya had been but two days a prisoner in the _terem_.
Doonya fell ill, or seemed to, having first bribed the old _nyanka_, or
nurse, who was in charge of her dormitory to declare that she had taken
an infectious malady, and was therefore a danger to all the rest. The
old nurse ran crying through the _terem_ that Doonya Meschersky had
taken the fever and must be removed at once, and away ran a messenger
for her own doctor, who was to be found, said Doonya, at a certain
address.
This leech was of course Kostromsky, who was impatiently awaiting the
summons, and accompanied the messenger back to the palace in hot haste.
‘The _nyanka_ is right,’ he said, upon seeing Doonya, who made a show of
raving and tossing upon her bed; ‘this is the first stage of the blood
fever--the _Barishnya_ must be removed immediately.’
Whereupon Doonya was wrapped in coverings and carried by the doctor
himself out of the dormitory and down the stairs which led to the
street. But unfortunately the Regent and Galitsin met the party upon the
stairs, and her Highness would know what ailed the girl and who was this
that carried her away.
The _nyanka_ replied that a calamity had happened: here was a poor
_Barishnya_ taken with fever of a dangerous and infectious kind and must
be moved, said this good doctor, before others were tainted with it.
‘And who is this good doctor, and why was not the Court physician
summoned?’ asked Sophia.
‘She would see no leech but her own!’ said the _nyanka_, weeping and
crossing herself. ‘Poor lamb, that might have been chosen Tsaritsa but
for this sad infection----’
‘Pooh!’ said Sophia, interrupting. ‘Lay her down here on the landing,
and go, someone, for Drury, the Court physician.’
When this Englishman came he soon pronounced Doonya well enough, looking
hard at Kostromsky the while, whereupon Galitsin, suspecting the family
doctor, pulled the wig from his head and revealed Kostromsky, whom both
he and the Regent knew well.
The issue of the matter was unfortunate for both the conspirators, for
her Highness treated them with severity, in order to deter other fools,
as she said, from behaving in a similar fashion. Poor Doonya was taken
straight to the flog-room, where she tasted of the knout and was then
thrust back into the _terem_, to be laughed at or pitied by her
companions, according to their dispositions.
But as for Kostromsky--whom, as it happened, Galitsin hated because he
was a _Petrofsky_, or follower of young Tsar Peter--a strange fate was
reserved for him.
‘Why have you done this thing, fool?’ Galitsin asked the poor youth,
when Doonya was led weeping away to her punishment.
‘She is my _nevéysta_ (fiancée),’ said Kostromsky boldly; ‘do not dare
to have her flogged, Galitsin, or I swear that one day I will have
revenge.’
‘What!’ exclaimed the Regent Sophia, ‘you would marry--is that it?’
‘I both would marry and will, Highness,’ said Kostromsky.
‘He speaks truth,’ laughed Sophia. ‘Here, one of you, go fetch a priest,
he shall be married at once: take the _nyanka_, some of you, and dress
her for bride. Lord, if the fool is anxious to be married, he shall have
his way!’
In vain did poor Kostromsky entreat, threaten, blaspheme--the Regent had
no reply but laughter; and sure enough, before the hour was out, this
youth--and a handsome youth, too--and this hag of seventy were man and
wife--so far, at least, as the ministrations of a priest of the Orthodox
Church could make them so.
Thus did her Highness endeavour to terrify those of the selected maidens
who would prefer to work out their own destinies rather than accord to
the Tsar the traditional privileges of Russian Tsarship.