Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (32 page)

 
          
“He
has offended me, and cannot be pardoned yet; ask anything for yourself,
mademoiselle.”

 
          
I
was bent on having my own way, and making him submit as a penance for his
unwomanly menace. Once conquer his will, in no matter how slight a
degree,
and I had gained a power possessed by no other
person. I liked the trial, and would not yield one jot of the advantage I had
gained; so I answered, with a smile I had never worn to him before:

 
          
“Monsieur
le Prince has given his word to grant me satisfaction; surely he will not break
it, whatever atonement I demand! Ah, pardon Mouche, and I forget the rest.”

 
          
I
had fine eves, and knew how
⁷
to use them; as I spoke I fixed them on
the prince with an expression half-imploring, halfcommanding, and saw in his
face a w ish to yield, but pride would not permit it.

 
          
“Mademoiselle,
I ordered the dog to follow
⁷
me; he refused, and for that I would
have punished him. If I relent before the chastisement is finished I lose mv
pow
er over him, and the offense will be repeated. Is it not
possible to satisfy you without ruining Mouche?”

 
          
“Permit
one question before
I
reply. Did you give yourself the
trouble of discovering the cause of the dog’s unusual disobedience before the
whip was used?”

 
          
“No;
it is enough for me that the brute refused to follow. What cause could there
have been for his rebelling?”

           
“Call him and it will appear.”

 
          
The
prince ordered in the dog; but in vain; Mouche crouched in the corridor with a
forlorn air, and answered only by a whine. His master was about to go to him
angrily, when, to prevent another scene, I called, and at once the dog came
limping to my feet. Stooping, I lifted one paw, and showed the prince a deep
and swollen wound, which explained the poor brute’s unwillingness to follow his
master on the long daily drive. I was surprised at the way in which the prince
received the rebuke; I expected a laugh, a careless or a haughty speech, but
like a boy he put his arm about the hound, saying almost tenderly:

 
          
“Pardon, pardon, my poor Mouche!
Who has hurt thee so
cruelly? Forgive the whip; thou shalt never feel it again.”

 
          
Like
a noble brute as he was, Mouche felt the change, understood, forgave, and
returned to his allegiance at once, lifting himself to lick his master’s hand
and wag his tail in token of affection. It was a pretty little scene, for the
prince laid his face on the smooth head of the dog, and half-whispered his
regrets, exactly as a generous-hearted lad would have done to the favorite whom
he had wronged in anger. I was glad to see it, childish as it was, for it
satisfied me that this household tyrant had a heart, and well pleased with the
ending of this stormy interview, I stole noiselessly away, carrying the broken
whip with me as a trophy of my victory.

 
          
To
the princess I said nothing of all this, but cheered her with the doctor’s note
and somewhat rash prophecies of its success. The prince seldom failed to come
morning and evening to inquire for his sister, and as the time drew near for
the latter visit we both grew anxious. At the desire of the princess I placed
myself at the piano, hoping that “music might soothe the savage breast,” and
artfully prepare the way for the appeal. One of the prince’s whims was to have
rooms all over the hotel and one never knew in which he might be. That where I
had first seen him was near the suite of the princess, and he often stepped
quietly in when we least expected him. This habit annoyed his sister, but she
never betrayed it, and always welcomed him, no matter how inopportune his visit
might be. As I sat playing I saw the curtains that hung before the door softly
drawn aside, and expected the prince to enter, but they fell again and no one
appeared. I said nothing, but thundered out the Russian national airs with my
utmost skill, till the soft scent of flowers and a touch on my arm made me
glance down, to see Mouche holding in his mouth a magnificent bouquet, to which
was attached a card bearing my name.

 
          
I
was pleased, vet not quite satisfied, for in this Frenchv little performance I
fancied I saw the prince’s desire to spare himself any further humiliation. I
did not expect it, but I did wish he had asked pardon of me as well as of the
dog, and when among the flowers I found a bracelet shaped like a coiled up
golden whip with a jeweled handle, I would have none of it, and giving it to
Mouche, bid him take it to his master. The docile creature gravely retired, but
not before I had discovered that the wounded foot was carefully bound up, that
he wore a new silver collar, and had the air of a dog
who
had been petted to his hearts content.

 
          
The
princess from her distant couch had observed but not understood the little
pantomime, and begged to be enlightened. I told the story, and was amused at
the impression it made upon her, for when I paused she clasped her hands,
exclaiming, theatrically:

 
          
“Mon
Dieu,
that
any one should dare face Alexis in one of his furies! And you had no fear?
you
opposed him?
made
him spare
Mouche and ask pardon? It is incredible!”

 
          
“But
I could not see the poor beast half killed, and I never dreamed of harm to
myself. Of that there could be no danger, for I am a woman, and the prince a
gentleman,” I said, curious to know how that part of the story would affect the
princess.

 
          
“Ah,
my dear, those who own serfs see in childhood so much cruelty, they lose that
horror of it which we feel. Alexis has seen many women beaten when a boy, and
though he forbids it now, the thing does not shock him as it should. When in
these mad fits he knows not what he does; he killed a man once, a servant, w ho
angered him, struck him dead with a blow. He suttered much remorse, and for a
long time was an angel; but the wild blood cannot be controlled, and he is the
victim of his passion. It was like him to send the flowers, but it will
mortally ottend him that you retuse the bracelet. He always consoles me with some
bijou alter he has made me w
^r
ecp, and I accept it, for it relieves
and calms him.’

 
          
“Does
he not express contrition in words?”

 
          
“Never!
he
is too proud for that.
No one dares demand such humiliation, and since he was not taught to ask pardon
when a child, one cannot expect to teach the lesson now. I fear he will not
come
to-night; what think you, Sybil?”

 
          
“I
think he will not come, but what matter? Our plan can be executed at any time.
Delay is what we wish, and this affair may cause him to forget the other.”

 
          
“Ah,
if it would, I should bless Mouche almost as fervently as when he saved Alexis
from the wolves.”

 
          
“Does
the prince owe his life to the dog?”

 
          
“In
truth he does, for in one of his bear hunts at home he lost his way, was beset
by the ferocious beasts, and but for the gallant dog would never have been
saved. He loves him tenderly, and
— ”
“Breaks whips
over the brave creature’s back,” I added, rudely enough, quite forgetting
etiquette in my indignation.

           
The princess laughed, saying, with a
shrug:

 
          
“You
English are such stern judges.”

 
          
I
was
INTEnsely
curious to see how the prince would
behave when we met. Politeness is such a national trait in Erance, where the
poorest workman lifts his cap in passing a lady, to the Emperor, who returns
the salute of his shabbiest subject, that one soon learns to expect the little
courtesies of daily life so scrupulously and gracefully paid by all classes,
and to miss them if they are wanting. When he chose, the prince was a perfect
Frenchman in this respect, but at times nothing could be more insolently
haughty, or entirely oblivious of common civility. Hitherto I had had no
personal experience of this, but had observed it toward others, and very
unnecessarily angered myself about it. My turn came now; for when he entered
his sister’s apartment next day, he affected entire unconsciousness of my
presence. Not a look, word, or gesture was vouchsafed me, but, half turning his
back, he chatted with the princess in an unusually gay and affectionate manner.

 
          
After
the first indignant impulse to leave the room had passed, I became cool enough
to see and enjoy the ludicrous side of the affair. I could not help wondering
if it was done for effect, but for the first time since I came I saw the prince
in his uniform. I would not look openly, though I longed to do so, for covert
glances, as I busied myself with my embroidery,
gave
me glimpses of a splendid blending of scarlet, white and gold. It would have
been impossible for the prince not to have known that this brilliant costume
was excessively becoming, and not to have felt a very natural desire to display
his handsome figure to advantage. More than once he crossed the room to look
from the window, as if impatient for the droschkv, then sat himself down at the
piano and played stormily for five minutes, marched back to the princess’s sofa
and teased Bijou the poodle, ending at length by standing erect on the rug and
facing the enemv.

 
          
Finding
1
bore my disgrace with
equanimity,
he was
possessed to plav the master, and show his displeasure in words as well as by
silence. Turning to his sister, he said, in the tone of one who does not deign
to issue commands to inferiors:

 
          
“You
were enjoying some book as I entered, Nadja; desire Mademoiselle Varna to
continue — I go in a moment.”

 
          
“Ala
cbere,
oblige me by finishing the chapter,” said the princess, with a
significant glance, and I obeved.

 
          
We
were reading George Sand’s
Consuelo,
or rather the sequel of that
wonderful book, and had reached the scenes in which
Frederick
the Great torments the prima donna before
sending her to prison, because she will not submit to his whims. I liked my
task, and read with spirit, hoping the prince would enjoy the lesson as much as
I did. By skillfully cutting paragraphs here and there, I managed to get in the
most apposite and striking of Consuclo’s brave and sensible remarks, as well as
the tyrant’s unjust and ungenerous commands. I he prince stood with his eyes
fixed upon me. I felt, rather than saw’ this, tor I never lifted my own, but
permitted a smile to appear when
Frederick
threatened her w ith his cane. The princess
speedily forgot everything but the romance, and when I paused, exclaimed, with
a laugh:

 
          
“Ah,
you enjoy that much, Sybil, for, like Consuelo, you would have defied the Great
Fritz himself.”

 
          
“That I would, in spite of a dozen Spondous.
Royalty and
rank give no one a right to oppress others. A tyrant — even a crowned one — is
the most despicable of creatures,” I answered, warmly.

 
          
“But
you will allow that Porporina was very cold and coy, and altogether provoking,
in spite of her genius and virtue,” said the princess, avoiding the word
“tyrant,” as the subjects of the czar have a tendency to do.

 
          
“She
was right, for the humblest mortals should possess their liberty and preserve
it at all costs. Golden chains are often heavier than iron ones: is it not so,
Mouche?” I asked of the dog,
who
lay at my feet,
vainly trying to rid himself of the new collar which annoyed him.

 
          
A
sharp “Here, sir!” made him spring to his master, who ordered him to lie down,
and put one foot on him to keep him, as he showed signs of deserting again. The
prince looked ireful, his black eyes were kindling, and some imperious speech
was trembling on his lips, when Claudine entered with the
mal-apropos
question.

 
          
“Does
Madame la Princesse desire that I begin to make preparations for the journey?”

 
          
“Not
yet. Go; I will give orders when it is time,” replied the princess, giving me a
glance, which said, “We must speak now.”

 
          
“What
journey?” demanded the prince, as Claudine vanished
precipitately.

 
          
“That
for which you commanded me to prepare,” returned his sister, with a heavy sigh.

 
          
“That
is well. You consent, then, without more useless delay?” and the prince’s face
cleared as he spoke.

 
          
“If
you still desire it, after reading this, I shall submit, Alexis,” and giving
him the note, his sister waited, with nervous anxiety, for his decision.

 
          
As
he read I watched him, and saw real concern, surprise, and regret in his face,
but when he looked up, it was to ask:

 
          
“When did Dr. Segarde give you this, and wherefore?”

 
          
“You
shall know all, my brother. Mademoiselle sees mv sufferings, pities my
unhappiness, and is convinced that it is no whim of mine which makes me dread
this return. I implore her to sav this to you, to plead for me, because, with
all your love, you cannot know my state as she does. To this prayer of mine she
listens, but with a modesty as great as her goodness, she fears that you may
think her officious, over-bold, or blinded by regard for me. Therefore she
wisely asks for Segardes opinion, sure that it will touch and influence you. Do
not destroy her good opinion, nor disappoint thy Nadja!”

 
          
The
prince
was
touched, but found it hard to yield, and said, slowly, as he
refolded the note, with a glance at me of annoyance not anger:

 
          
“So
you plot and intrigue against me, ladies! But I have said we shall go, and I
never revoke a decree.”

 
          
“Go!”
cried the princess, in a tone of despair.

 
          
“Yes,
it is inevitable,” was the answer, as the prince turned toward the fire, as if
to escape importunities and reproaches.

 
          
“But when, Alexis — when?
Give me still a few weeks of
grace!” implored his sister, approaching him in much agitation.

 
          
“I
give thee till April,” replied the prince, in an altered tone.

 
          
“But
that is spring, the time I pray for! Do you, then, grant my prayer?” exclaimed
the princess, pausing in amazement.

 
          
“I
said we must go, but not
when;
now I fix a time, and give thee yet some
w eeks of grace. Didst thou think I loved my own pleasure more than thv life,
my sister?”

 
          
As
he turned, with a smile of tender reproach, the princess uttered
a
erv of joy and threw herself into his arms in a paroxysm
of gratitude, delight and affection. I never imagined that the prince could unbend
so beautifullv and entirely; but as I watched him caress and reassure the frail
creature who clung to him, I was surprised to find what a hearty admiration
suddenly sprung up w ithin me for “the barbarian,” as I often called him to
myself. I enjoyed the pretty tableau a moment, and was quietly gliding away,
lest I should be
de trap,
when the princess arrested me by exclaiming,
as she leaned on her
brothers
arm, showing a face rosy
with satisfaction:

 
          
“Chere
Sybil, come and thank him for this kindness; you know how ardently I desired
the boon, and you must help me to express my gratitude.”

 
          
“In
what language shall I thank Monsieur le Prince for prolonging his sister’s
life? Your tears, madame, are more eloquent than any words of mine,” I replied,
veiling the reproach under a tone of respectful meekness.

 
          
“She
is too proud, this English Consuelo; she will not stoop to confess an
obligation even to Alexis Demidoff.”

 
          
He
spoke in a half-playful, half-petulant tone, and hesitated over the last words,
as if he would have said “a prince.” The haughtiness was quite gone, and
something in his expression, attitude and tone touched me. The sacrifice had
cost him something, and a little commendation would not hurt him, vain and
selfish though he might be. I was grateful for the poor princess’s sake, and I
did not hesitate to show it, saying with my most cordial smile, and doubtless
some of the satisfaction I could not but feel visible in my face:

 
          
“I
am not too proud to thank you sincerely for this favor to Madame la Princesse,
nor
to ask pardon for anything by which I may have offended
you.”

 
          
A
gratified smile rewarded me as he said, with an air of surprise:

 
          
“And
yet, mademoiselle desires much to see
St. Petersburg
?”

 
          
“I
do, but I can wait, remembering that it is more blessed to give than to
receive.”

 
          
A
low bow was the only reply he made, and with a silent caress to his sister he
left the room.

 
          
“You
have not yet seen the droschky; from the window of the ante-room the courtyard
is visible; go, mademoiselle, and get a glimpse of
St. Petersburg
,” said the princess, returning to her sofa,
weary with the scene.

 
          
I
went, and looking down, saw the most picturesque equipage I had ever seen. The
elegant, coquettish droschky with a pair of splendid black
Ukraine
horses, harnessed in the Russian fashion,
with a network of purple leather profusely ornamented with silver, stood before
the grand entrance, and on the seat sat a handsome young man in full
Ischvostchik costume. His caftan of fine cloth was slashed at the sides with
embroidery; his hat had a velvet band, a silver buckle, and a bunch of rosy
ribbons in it; a white-laced neck-cloth, buckskin gloves, hair and beard in
perfect order; a brilliant sash and a crimson silk shirt. As I stood wondering
if he was a serf, the prince appeared, wrapped in the long gray capote, lined
with scarlet, which all military Russians wear, and the brilliant helmet
surmounted by a flowing white plume. As he seated himself among the costly furs
he glanced up at his sister’s windows, where she sometimes stood to see him.
His quick eve recognized me, and to my surprise he waved his hand with a
gracious smile as the fiery horses whirled him away.

 
          
That
smile haunted me curiously all day, and more than once I glanced into the
courtyard, hoping to see the picturesque droschkv again, for, though one cannot
live long in Paris without seeing nearly everv costume under the sun, and
accustomed as I was to such sights, there was something peculiarly charming to
me in the martial figure, the brilliant equipage and the wild black horses, as
full of untamed grace and power as if but just brought from the steppes of
Tartary.

 
          
There
was a dinner party in the evening, and, anxious to gratify her brother, the
princess went down. Usually I enjoyed these free hours, and was never at a loss
for occupation or amusement, but on this evening I could settle to nothing till
I resolved to indulge an odd whim which possessed me. Arranging palette and
brushes, I was soon absorbed in reproducing on a small canvas a likeness of the
droschky and its owner. Hour after hour slipped by as the little picture grew,
and horses, vehicle, driver and master took shape and color under my touch. I
spent much time on the principal figure, but left the face till the last. All
was carefully copied from memory, the white tunic, golden cuirass, massive
epaulets, and silver sash; the splendid casque with its plume, the gray cloak,
and the scarlet trowsers, half-hidden by the high boots of polished leather. At
the boots I paused, trying to remember something.