THE YOUNG HOPEFUL
The Counsellor of Public Enlightenment was just by way of detailing at
large to Araktseieff Pushkin's unheard-of outrage upon the censorial red
pencil, with all its aggravations, when a young man, unceremoniously
bursting open the door of the reception-room of the dread President of
Police, appeared upon the scene. The intruder seemed privileged to break
in upon him unannounced, whoever might be having audience of the
all-powerful statesman. The new-comer was a man of some thirty years of
age; his dress the uniform of a colonel in the Life Guards. His features
were pleasing and regular, but the expression uneasy, shifty; he never
looked the person to whom he was speaking full in the face.
It was Junker Jevgen, Araktseieff's son and young hopeful.
"Ah!" cried his father, "you have got into some other ugly scrape, sir!"
"_Au contraire_, governor! Mistaken for once."
"Your appearance rarely means anything else. Have you anything of
importance to say to me?"
"Oh, nothing of a nature that I cannot say before Herr Sujukin."
"I suppose some pressing money difficulty?"
"_Au contraire_," returned the young man, carelessly throwing himself
back upon a couch, and ostentatiously drawing out a handful of gold from
his pocket. "You see it is not that which brought me."
"By Jove! you have lined your pockets well. May I inquire the source of
this plenty?"
"Why not? No need to conceal it from Herr Sujukin. I won it a night or
two ago at rouge-et-noir."
"So! At nights, when you are intrusted with the inspection, you can
manage to find time for the faro-bank?"
"I only just happened in _en passant_. I just hazarded a couple of
sovereigns; seven times, one after another, I won. I had deuced
good-luck; red always turned up. And I left off playing while the vein
was on."
"And you come to tell me the good news?"
"Oh no! On the contrary, I come to bring you the latest. Only fancy! the
celebrated harpist, Chamberlin, has arrived from Paris, and is going to
give some concerts."
"I never knew you to be so devoted to the harp."
"Oh, I rave about it."
"And I can't abide it," put in Sujukin, in full agreement with the
father.
Jevgen continued:
"His Majesty the Czar, to do honor to the harpist, has commanded a state
concert to-night at the Winter Palace."
"Oh, I delight in the harp!" hastily threw in Sujukin, in order to amend
his former speech.
"The invitations are already issued. It will be a particularly brilliant
assemblage. I just saw your invitation delivered to your groom of the
chambers. I have already received mine."
"Oh, then, of course it will be a brilliant affair!"
"I suppose you know that we must appear _en grande tenue_? Men with the
_grand cordon_ and all their orders."
"Upon my soul! Doing high honor to the musician."
"Besides which the Zeneida will sing something of Cimarosa."
"Is that all you have to tell me?"
"Beyond that nothing," returned the young man, rising with a yawn as he
looked at the clock. "Now I must be off and change. By-the-way, shall
you be at the state concert to-night?"
"What else should I do, as the Czar honors me with an invitation?"
"I thought, perhaps, your rheumatism was plaguing you too much."
"Do not forget that there is no rheumatism when the Czar commands."
"And yet it were a pity to risk your health, sir, for sake of a
scoundrelly musician. You will be awfully bored. There is nothing in the
world so ghastly dull as the harp."
"You just told me you raved about it."
"Oh, of course, if it is a lady harpist. But to see a man sprawling over
the strings! _pas si bête_! It is for all the world like listening to
some street player. I could make your excuses to the Czar for you in
form if you preferred to stay at home."
"Now what the devil does it matter to you whether I go or not? What has
made you such an affectionate son, so solicitous for your father's
health? Have you entered upon the climacteric years which alter a man's
nature?"
Jevgen broke into a laugh.
"Not exactly, father. Your son is the same as before. But I want you to
stay at home to-night, because then you could lend me your diamond
Vladimir order. I can't find mine anywhere."
"Because you have not searched at the pawnbroker's for it."
"With clear conscience I can say it is not at the pawnbroker's. If it
were I could have easily redeemed it with the cash in my pocket, and
need not have come to you. I have searched everywhere, and cannot set
eyes upon it."
"Just think, my boy; you'll remember what you've done with it."
"Well, then, I will confess. It is no disgrace; a thing that happens to
many of us officers. After playing I came across a demoniacal little
girl."
"Ah, you found time for that, too, during inspection?"
"What matter! When I released the said little fury I perceived that my
Vladimir order had disappeared with her."
"Upon my word! It is a pretty story!" cried Araktseieff, springing up
from his chair. "You have done for yourself. Did I not say that some
nice mess had brought you here? Lose your order! Let it be stolen from
you by a street wench! Do you know the girl?"
"Yes; she is a street dancer--Diabolka, the gypsy girl."
"A gypsy, eh?" broke in Sujukin at that moment. "That's it! Just what
might have been expected from Pushkin's verses. Ah! I can generally see
through things!"
"Did you put the police at once upon her track?" asked Araktseieff.
"As though the police were to be found at once, or, to put it the other
way, as though our police were likely to find any one at once! Oh, it is
not lost! The gypsy or the Vladimir order will be found fast enough in
Appraxin Dwor. But that's no use to me. I want to wear the order
to-night; for I dare not appear without it at the state concert."
"Well, my boy, no power but death shall separate me from mine."
"Then I see no way out of it. I have tried to obtain one from the State
Treasurer; but the Czar keeps the key of the order safe himself; so
nothing is to be done there. It is enough to make a fellow blow his
brains out!"
"Well, well, here is an idea; but, mind, I take no responsibility for
it. Are you on good terms with the Czar's groom of the chambers?"
"Oh yes, excellent! We meet constantly--under the table!"
"You are aware that when the Czar attends any civil function and not a
military parade, he is pleased to show his imperial favor towards
civilians by appearing in a plain black coat, and wears no orders,
merely the gold medal in his button-hole, which he received from the
society of 'Philanthropists' in Riga for having saved a poor peasant
from drowning in the river. Thus, amid all the brilliant assemblage,
the Czar is conspicuous by the simplicity of his attire; and his
Vladimir order will be in the custody of the groom of the chambers for
the night. Bribe your friend to lend you the Czar's order to-night."
"By Jove! a brilliant idea! I see, after all, that you love me,
governor."
"Ah! were you not my son, my boy, you'd long ago have been swinging on
the gallows."
"No, no, father. Why joke with the word 'gallows'? You may come to it
yourself one day, though you are my respected parent."
"But I give you one piece of advice: See that you keep as far off as
possible from the Czar at the concert, that he may not recognize his own
order."
"Bah! how is he to single out one amid the forty that will be there?"
"I tell you this much, that the Czar is an expert in precious stones. So
make a point of keeping in some obscure corner."
"Well, I will be your obedient son. I am pleased with you to-day,
father. It is no light matter to have such a sensible parent to come to.
I grant you permission to give me a kiss. Adieu! Good-day, Herr Sujukin.
Pray continue where you left off."
Meanwhile the death's-head had been chewing something between his teeth,
perhaps a criticism, while the young man was making a clean breast of
it. "A good many things to strike out with the red pencil there,"
thought he to himself. The father gazed for some time at the half-open
door; then, turning to Sujukin:
"A fine, handsome boy, is he not? A merry fellow. His worst fault is
that he knows how much I love him."
"He only needs a little of the red pencil! But to return to the story of
that red pencil."
"You shall have satisfaction, Vasul Sergievitch! Leave the matter to me.
I will place the _corpus delicti_ in the Czar's own hands, and can
assure you that the culprit will bitterly repent his offence! As though
his first intemperate actions, which he paid for by the confiscation of
his property and his banishment to Odessa, were not sufficient reminder,
he requites the clemency of the Czar, who permitted him to return home,
with these fresh excesses; but we will find a means of settling with
him. Be comforted, Vasul Sergievitch. To-morrow morning Master Pushkin
will find himself on his way to Uralsk."
"Irkutsk is farther!" said the Censor, who could not refrain from
improving on Araktseieff's verdict.
"But Uralsk is worse! Believe me, Uralsk is an awful garrison for an
officer to be disgraced to. In ten years' time no woman would recognize
him. From a gay butterfly he will come back transformed into a hairy
caterpillar--like our friend Jakuskin!"
The death's-head was satisfied to leave matters to him--_Typis
admittitur!_--and went back to the reception-rooms to administer a
parting shot to the Frenchman. After the encouraging words of the
President of Police his horns had grown so fast that he felt as if they
would reach to the artist perched aloft.
"I forbid you to paint a figure of Death before his Majesty's very feet.
It will give the whole fresco an ominous meaning."
But the artist continued undisturbed to paint in his figure of Death;
and the face was the counterpart of that of the Censor.