NO RIVAL
What unheard-of audacity, to spoil the sport of such an aristocratic
hunting-party!
"Who fired that shot?" cried the foremost of the huntsmen, with a
threatening crack of his whip.
The hounds dashed furiously on towards the open gate, their sense of the
dignity of the hunt equally insulted.
The question had been put in Russian; and the action was in accord with
the speech, although the speaker's face was close shaven in the French
style, while the other members of the hunt all wore short whiskers.
"I took that liberty!" returned a woman's voice; and from under the
fir-trees, whose branches overhung the gate, appeared a woman's form,
slender as one of the Amazons of the "Kalevala" Saga, her pale oval face
surrounded by loose-falling hair of reddish gold, like a lion's mane;
the nose, straight and delicate, and full lips recalling the Niobe
group; while at sight of the great flashing eyes, instinct with magic
beauty, one was irresistibly reminded of a peri from the "Sakuntala." A
very fairy, who united in herself the threefold myths.
"I dared do it!" she said, coming forward alone, unattended. And
carelessly dispersing the excited dogs with one hand, she raised the
pistol she held in the other, and, pointing it at her interlocutor,
continued: "And there is another shot in it for you if you do not
instantly lower your whip."
The hounds were cringingly snuffing about her whom the moment before
they had been ready to tear in pieces; the huntsman, too, was not less
susceptible to the charm than was the pack. Raising his whip, he touched
his cap courteously with it, and addressed her in French, the language
of Russian society:
"It were unnecessary, madame, that you should use firearms, possessing
as you do in your eyes such powerful weapons."
By this speech the huntsman betrayed the school of Versailles, where men
were accustomed to carry on war with compliments, and to mask retreat
with gallant words.
Meanwhile the rest of the hunting-party had come up to the gates. The
gentlemen, seeing with whom their comrade was in conversation, held in
their horses, as though not wishing to take part in it; only an older
man, wearing an order set in diamonds on his fur-lined coat, approached
nearer; and one of the ladies, galloping straight up to the gate, pulled
up her horse at its threshold, the body of the dead stag alone
separating her from the other woman.
The huntswoman wore a blue, fur-bordered jacket, with hunting-cap to
match, under which her fair hair hung in ringlets to the shoulders. Her
face was crimsoned with eagerness and the extreme cold, giving to her
somewhat prominent eyes a still more dazzling brilliancy than they were
wont to have; her thin, delicately shaped lips were half open; the blue
veil falling over her forehead, and the blue band she wore under her
chin as a protection from the cold, did not allow more of her face to be
seen. But as she drew up close beside the other lady she pushed back the
chin band, perhaps in order to speak more freely, thereby displaying a
pretty, rosy chin, divided by charming dimples.
"How dared you shoot that stag?" she cried to the other lady. "Did you
not know it was an imperial one?"
"How dared you chase that stag to the very gates of the hospital? Did
you not know that it is a hospital for cripples?"
"I hope you recognize that the Czar is the first gentleman in Russia."
"Throughout the whole world the first gentlefolks are the sick."
"You are foolhardy, madame."
"That I admit."
Now the huntswoman lifted her veil. She was heated. She toyed
impatiently with the riding-whip in her hand.
"Why am I not a man?" she muttered, between her pearly teeth.
The huntsman with the clean-shaven face, reading from his companion's
working features and piercing eyes that there was something more in
dispute than the shot stag, now bending towards her, addressed her
audibly enough in German. For though the French language--that of the
best-beloved enemy--is the language of society in the Russian capital,
German--that of the most hated friend--is only spoken by the exclusive.
German is therefore spoken when the servants are not desired to
understand.
"A rival, eh?" asked the clean-shaven one.
The huntswoman projected her lips scornfully, and, knitting her brows,
answered aloud in German:
"Neither rival nor----"
The lady standing by had distinctly heard the short colloquy, and was
perfectly aware that she had another charge in her pistol.
The speaker had turned pale as she spoke, like a duellist who, having
fired his shot and wounded his adversary, now awaits the other's fire.
The owner of the park did not do this, however. There are words, looks,
and gestures which can strike deeper than the most deadly weapon.
Placing one foot on the crowned antlers of the stag lying prone before
her, she smiled full in the face of her adversary; and, as though to
emphasize the insulting challenge, raising her pistol, she fired the
remaining shot into the air. For an insult loses its sting if directed
by an armed person against one unarmed. Now once more she stood
conqueror.
The huntswoman's face flamed with fury. She twisted her riding-whip in
her hands like a serpent, as though inwardly debating whether to strike
it across the other's face, and thus wipe away the irritating smile.
One of the other two ladies was young, little more than a child. Her
face a perfect oval, with exquisitely formed chin, a little rosebud
mouth, large, deep-blue eyes, looking black in the distance, dark,
finely pencilled eyebrows, and hair hanging in soft, shining plaits down
her back.
Her whole face wore the astounded expression of a school-girl. The
strangest thing about her was that she rode a gentleman's saddle, with
which her costume was in keeping--the Circassian beshmet, the broad,
white salavár, high boots, and flowing cashmere, with hanging kindzsál.
Every one but she knew what the two women were saying to each other. He
who happened to be ignorant of the language could understand the
gestures, the contemptuous expression of the features, the crossfire of
eyes. The young girl did not understand even that. She merely looked on
in amazement. That the two ladies were angry with each other she
saw--and about a stag's antlers! The riding-whip was twisted about in
the huntswoman's nervous fingers until it snapped. She made use of
another weapon.
"Bethsaba!" she exclaimed, turning to the girl, and speaking to her in a
language unknown to any of their auditors--possibly Circassian; but the
expression on the speaker's face, and the terror-stricken, pallid look
on that of the young girl, said as plainly as words:
"You have asked me what the devil looks like? Look at that woman; there
you have the fiend in human form."
The girl, bending her head, crossed herself as she cast a frightened
side glance at the dreadful woman, who was the embodiment of his Satanic
Majesty. Then the Amazon, turning her own horse, and at the same time
seizing the reins of that upon which the young girl was mounted,
galloped back the way she had come, huntsmen and hounds following. The
stag remained where it had fallen.