At last the counting of the cards began. The stewards of the Club
composed the committee. A tensely expectant crowd gathered at the door
of the judges' room. For a short time in the dancing-hall everything
became quiet and dull. The music ceased. The company grew silent.
Peredonov felt sad. But soon an impatient hum of conversation began in
the crowd. Someone said in an assured tone that both prizes would go to
actors.
"You'll see," someone's irritated, hissing voice could be heard saying.
The crowd was restless. Those who had received only a few cards were
vexed at this. Those who had a larger number of cards were disturbed by
the expectation of a possible injustice.
Suddenly a bell tingled lightly and nervously. The judges came out;
they were Veriga, Avinovitsky, Kirillov and other stewards of the Club.
The crowd's excitement passed through the hall--suddenly everyone was
silent. Avinovitsky shouted in a stentorian voice which was heard
through the whole hall:
"The album, the prize for the best man's costume, has been awarded,
according to the majority of cards received, to the gentleman in the
costume of an ancient German."
Avinovitsky lifted the album on high and looked savagely at the
crowding guests. The huge German began to make his way through the
crowd. The others looked hostilely at him and obstructed his passage.
"Don't jostle, please," shouted in a tearful voice the dejected woman
in the blue costume, with the glass star and the paper moon--Night.
"He's got the prize and he thinks the women must fall at his feet!"
shouted a viciously angry voice.
"You won't let me pass yourself," said the German with suppressed
annoyance.
At last he managed somehow to get to the judges, and Veriga presented
him with the album. The band played a flourish. But the sound of
the music was lost in the disorderly noise. People shouted abusive
exclamations. They surrounded the German, jostled him and shouted:
"Take off your mask!"
The German said nothing. It would not have been difficult for him to
get through the crowd, but he obviously hesitated to use his full
strength. Goudayevsky caught hold of the album and at the same time
someone quickly tore the mask from the German's face. The crowd cried
out:
"It is an actor!"
Their suppositions were justified: it was the actor, Bengalsky. He
shouted angrily:
"Yes, it is an actor! And what of it? You gave me the cards yourselves!"
In answer came the virulent exclamation:
"It's easy to slip in a few extra!"
"You printed the cards."
"There have been more cards given in than there are people here."
"He brought fifty cards in his pocket."
Bengalsky flushed and shouted:
"It's disgusting to talk like that. You can prove it if you like. You
can count the cards and the number of people."
Veriga interposed, saying to those near him:
"Gentlemen, calm yourselves. There's been no cheating--you can take my
word for it. The number of tickets has been carefully checked with the
number of entries."
The stewards, with the help of a few of the more sensible guests,
somehow pacified the crowd. Besides, everyone was anxious to know who
would get the fan.
Veriga announced:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the largest number of cards for the best lady's
costume has been received by the lady in the Geisha's costume, who has
therefore been awarded the prize--a fan. Geisha, please come this way.
The fan is yours. Ladies and gentlemen, I humbly request you to make
way for the Geisha."
The band again gave a flourish. The frightened Geisha longed to run
away. But she was jostled along and led forward. Veriga, with an
amiable smile, handed her the fan. The colours of the variegated
costumes glimmered before Sasha's eyes, which were half dimmed by
fear and confusion. He would have to return thanks, he thought. The
habitual politeness of a well-bred boy showed itself. The Geisha made
a curtsy, said something indistinctly, laughed slightly and lifted her
fingers--and again in the room rose a furious uproar of whistling and
abuse. Everyone made a rush for the Geisha. The savage and dishevelled
Ear of Corn cried:
"Make a curtsy, you little beast!"
The Geisha threw herself towards the door, but her way was barred. From
the crowd which seethed around the Geisha came malignant outcries:
"Make her unmask!"
"Mask off!"
"Catch her! Hold her!"
"Tear it off!"
"Take her fan away!"
The Ear of Corn shouted:
"Do you know who got the prize? Kashtanova, the actress! She stole
someone else's husband, and yet she gets the prize! They don't give it
to honest women, they give it to that creature!"
And she threw herself towards the Geisha, with piercing screams,
clenching her bony fists. Others came after her, mostly her cavaliers.
The Geisha fought them off desperately. A wild tussle began. The fan
was broken, torn out of her hands, thrown on the floor and trodden
upon. The crowd, with the Geisha in the middle, swayed furiously across
the room, sweeping onlookers from their feet. Neither the Routilovs nor
the Club stewards could reach the Geisha. The Geisha, strong and alert,
screamed piercingly, scratched and bit her assailants. She held her
mask on tightly now with one hand, now with the other.
"They ought all to be beaten," screeched some spiteful little woman.
The tipsy Grushina, hiding behind the others, urged on Volodin and
other acquaintances.
"Pinch her! Pinch the creature!" she shouted.
Machigin, holding his bleeding nose, jumped out from the crowd and
complained:
"She hit me straight in the nose with her fist!"
A vicious young man caught the Geisha's sleeve in his teeth and tore it
in half. The Geisha cried out:
"Help! Save me!"
And others began to tear her costume. Here and there her body showed
slightly. Darya and Liudmilla struggled desperately, trying to squeeze
through to the Geisha, but in vain. Volodin plucked at the Geisha so
zealously, screamed and cut such capers that he hindered other people
less drunk than himself and more spiteful: he did not attack her from
spite but from drunken joy, imagining that some very amusing farce was
going on. He tore one sleeve clean off the Geisha's dress and he tied
it round his head.
"It'll come in useful," he shouted, laughing and grimacing.
Getting out of the thick of the crowd, he went on making a fool of
himself in the open space, and danced over the pieces of the fan with
wild squeals. There was no one to restrain him. Peredonov looked at him
in dread and thought:
"He's dancing. He's glad for something. That's how he'll dance on my
grave."
At last the Geisha tore herself away--the crowd about her could not
withstand her quick fists and sharp teeth. The Geisha dashed from
the room. In the corridor the Ear of Corn rushed at the Geisha again
and caught hold of her dress. The Geisha almost succeeded in tearing
herself away, but she was again surrounded. The scuffle was renewed.
"They're pulling her by the ears!" someone exclaimed.
A little woman caught the Geisha's ear and pulled it with loud
triumphant cries. The Geisha screamed and somehow tore herself away,
after having hit the malicious little woman with her fist. At last,
Bengalsky, who had managed in the meantime to put on his ordinary
dress, fought his way towards the Geisha. He took the trembling Geisha
in his arms, covered her with his huge body and arms as far as he could
and quickly carried her away, thrusting the crowd aside with his elbows
and feet. The crowd shouted:
"Rotter! Scoundrel!"
They tugged at Bengalsky and punched him in the back. He exclaimed:
"I won't allow the mask to be torn from a woman. Do what you like, I
won't allow it."
In this way he carried the Geisha the entire length of the corridor,
which culminated in a narrow door opening into the Club dining-room.
Here Veriga managed to hold back the crowd for a short time. With the
resolution of a soldier he stood there and refused to allow anyone to
pass. He said:
"Gentlemen, you can't go any farther."
Goudayevskaya, rustling with the remaining ears of corn of her costume,
dashed at Veriga, clenching her fists and screamed piercingly:
"Go away! Let us pass!"
But the General's imposingly cold face and his determined grey eyes
kept her from doing anything more. She cried in helpless rage to her
husband:
"You might have boxed her ears--you gaping block-head!"
"It was hard to get at her," the Indian justified himself,
gesticulating wildly--"Pavloushka was in the way."
"You ought to have hit Pavloushka in the teeth and her in the ear--why
did you stand on ceremony!" screamed Goudayevskaya.
The crowd pressed against Veriga. They abused him fully. Veriga stood
calmly before the door and tried to persuade those nearest him to
preserve order. The kitchen-boy opened the door behind Veriga and
whispered:
"They've gone, your Excellency."
Veriga walked away.
The crowd broke into the dining-room, then into the kitchen--they
looked for the Geisha but did not find her.
* * * * *
Bengalsky, carrying the Geisha, ran through the dining-room into the
kitchen. She lay tranquilly in his arms and said nothing. Bengalsky
thought he could hear the strong beating of the Geisha's heart. On her
tightly-clutching bare arms he noticed several scratches and near the
elbow the blue-yellow stain of a bruise. In a hurried voice Bengalsky
said to the crowding servants in the kitchen:
"Quick, an overcoat, a dressing-gown, a sheet--anything! I must save
this lady."
An overcoat was thrown on Sasha's shoulders, Bengalsky somehow wrapped
it round the Geisha, and traversing the dark stairs, lighted by dim,
smoky paraffin lamps, carried her into the yard and through a gate into
the street.
"Take off the mask. You'll be more likely to be recognised with it
on--and anyway it's quite dark here. I'll tell no one," said he rather
inconsistently.
He was curious. He knew for certain that it was not Kashtanova, but who
was it then? The Geisha obeyed. Bengalsky saw an unfamiliar, smooth
face, on which fright was giving place to an expression of joy at an
escaped danger. A pair of cheerful eyes gazed at the actor's face.
"How can I thank you?" said the Geisha in a clear voice. "What would
have become of me, if you hadn't saved me?"
"She's no coward. An interesting little woman!" thought the actor. "But
who is she?"
It was obvious that she was a new arrival; Bengalsky knew the women of
the district. He said quietly to Sasha:
"I must take you home at once. Give me your address and I'll call a
cabby."
The Geisha's face again became dark with fear.
"You mustn't, you simply mustn't," she whispered. "I will go home
alone. Let me down here."
"But how can you go home in such mud and with those wooden shoes. You'd
better let me call a cab," said the actor persuasively.
"No, I'll go by myself. For God's sake let me down," entreated the
Geisha.
"I give you my word of honour I won't tell anyone," said Bengalsky
reassuringly. "I mustn't let you go, you'll catch cold. I'm responsible
for you now, and I can't let you go. But tell me quickly--they might
get after you even here. You saw what savages they are. They're capable
of anything."
The Geisha trembled, quick tears suddenly trickled from her eyes. She
said, sobbing:
"Terribly cruel people! Take me to the Routilovs for the present and
I'll spend the night there."
Bengalsky called a cab. They got in and drove off. The actor looked
intently at the Geisha's face. There seemed to him to be something
strange about it. The Geisha turned her face away. The town-talk about
Liudmilla and a schoolboy suddenly occurred to Bengalsky's mind.
"Ah-ha! You're a boy!" he said in a whisper, so that the cabby should
not hear.
"For God's sake!" said Sasha growing pale with fear.
And his smooth hands under the overcoat stretched themselves towards
Bengalsky with a movement of entreaty. Bengalsky laughed quietly and
whispered:
"I won't tell anyone. Don't be afraid. My business is to get you home
safe, and beyond that I know nothing. But you're a daring kid. Won't
they find out at home?"
"If you don't say anything no one will know," said Sasha in a voice of
gentle entreaty.
"You can depend on me. I shall be silent as the grave," replied the
actor. "I was a boy myself once; I was up to all sorts of pranks."
* * * * *
The clamour in the Club had already begun to calm down, but the evening
terminated in a new calamity. While they were tussling with the Geisha
in the corridor, the flaming nedotikomka, jumping on the lustres,
laughed and insistently whispered to Peredonov that he should strike
a match and let loose her, the flaming but confined nedotikomka on
these dingy, dirty walls, and, when she had gorged herself with the
destruction of this building where such terrible and incomprehensible
deeds were happening, then she would leave Peredonov unmolested. And
Peredonov could not resist her importunate whisper. He entered the
little dining-room which was next to the dancing-hall. It was empty.
Peredonov looked around, struck a match, put it to the window curtain
at the floor and waited till the hangings caught fire. The flaming
nedotikomka, like an active little snake, crept up the curtain,
squealing softly and happily. Peredonov walked out of the dining-room,
closing the door behind him. No one noticed the incendiary.
The fire was only seen from the street when the whole room was in
flames. The fire spread quickly. The people escaped--but the Club House
was burnt down.
On the next day the town talked of nothing but the Geisha affair and
the fire. Bengalsky kept his word and told no one that the Geisha was a
disguised boy.
As for Sasha he had redressed himself that night at Routilovs and,
turning once more into a simple barefoot boy, ran home, crept through
the window and went quietly to sleep. In the town, seething with
slanders, in the town where everyone knew everything about everyone,
Sasha's nocturnal adventure remained a secret. For long, but, of
course, not for always.