The Torrents of Spring Part 34

'Well, yes, a child, but a dear, good clever one, whom I love very much. Do you know what? From this day forth I confer on you the rank of page to me; and don't you forget that pages have to keep close to their ladies. Here is the token of your new dignity,' she added, sticking the rose in the b.u.t.tonhole of my jacket, 'the token of my favour.'

'I once received other favours from you,' I muttered.

'Ah!' commented Zinada, and she gave me a sidelong look, 'What a memory he has! Well? I'm quite ready now ...' And stooping to me, she imprinted on my forehead a pure, tranquil kiss.

I only looked at her, while she turned away, and saying, 'Follow me, my page,' went into the lodge. I followed her--all in amazement. 'Can this gentle, reasonable girl,' I thought, 'be the Zinada I used to know?' I fancied her very walk was quieter, her whole figure statelier and more graceful ...

And, mercy! with what fresh force love burned within me!

XVI

After dinner the usual party a.s.sembled again at the lodge, and the young princess came out to them. All were there in full force, just as on that first evening which I never forgot; even Nirmatsky had limped to see her; Meidanov came this time earliest of all, he brought some new verses. The games of forfeits began again, but without the strange pranks, the practical jokes and noise--the gipsy element had vanished.

Zinada gave a different tone to the proceedings. I sat beside her by virtue of my office as page. Among other things, she proposed that any one who had to pay a forfeit should tell his dream; but this was not successful. The dreams were either uninteresting (Byelovzorov had dreamed that he fed his mare on carp, and that she had a wooden head), or unnatural and invented. Meidanov regaled us with a regular romance; there were sepulchres in it, and angels with lyres, and talking flowers and music wafted from afar. Zinada did not let him finish.

'If we are to have compositions,' she said, 'let every one tell something made up, and no pretence about it.' The first who had to speak was again Byelovzorov.

The young hussar was confused. 'I can't make up anything!' he cried.

'What nonsense!' said Zinada. 'Well, imagine, for instance, you are married, and tell us how you would treat your wife. Would you lock her up?'

'Yes, I should lock her up.'

'And would you stay with her yourself?'

'Yes, I should certainly stay with her myself.'

'Very good. Well, but if she got sick of that, and she deceived you?'

'I should kill her.'

'And if she ran away?'

'I should catch her up and kill her all the same.'

'Oh. And suppose now I were your wife, what would you do then?'

Byelovzorov was silent a minute. 'I should kill myself....'

Zinada laughed. 'I see yours is not a long story.'

The next forfeit was Zinada's. She looked at the ceiling and considered. 'Well, listen, she began at last, 'what I have thought of.... Picture to yourselves a magnificent palace, a summer night, and a marvellous ball. This ball is given by a young queen. Everywhere gold and marble, crystal, silk, lights, diamonds, flowers, fragrant scents, every caprice of luxury.'

'You love luxury?' Lus.h.i.+n interposed. 'Luxury is beautiful,' she retorted; 'I love everything beautiful.'

'More than what is n.o.ble?' he asked.

'That's something clever, I don't understand it. Don't interrupt me.

So the ball is magnificent. There are crowds of guests, all of them are young, handsome, and brave, all are frantically in love with the queen.'

'Are there no women among the guests?' queried Malevsky.

'No--or wait a minute--yes, there are some.'

'Are they all ugly?'

'No, charming. But the men are all in love with the queen. She is tall and graceful; she has a little gold diadem on her black hair.'

I looked at Zinada, and at that instant she seemed to me so much above all of us, there was such bright intelligence, and such power about her unruffled brows, that I thought: 'You are that queen!'

'They all throng about her,' Zinada went on, 'and all lavish the most flattering speeches upon her.'

'And she likes flattery?' Lus.h.i.+n queried.

'What an intolerable person! he keeps interrupting ... who doesn't like flattery?'

'One more last question,' observed Malevsky, 'has the queen a husband?'

'I hadn't thought about that. No, why should she have a husband?'

'To be sure,' a.s.sented Malevsky, 'why should she have a husband?'

'_Silence!_' cried Meidanov in French, which he spoke very badly.

'_Merci!_' Zinada said to him. 'And so the queen hears their speeches, and hears the music, but does not look at one of the guests.

Six windows are open from top to bottom, from floor to ceiling, and beyond them is a dark sky with big stars, a dark garden with big trees. The queen gazes out into the garden. Out there among the trees is a fountain; it is white in the darkness, and rises up tall, tall as an apparition. The queen hears, through the talk and the music, the soft splash of its waters. She gazes and thinks: you are all, gentlemen, n.o.ble, clever, and rich, you crowd round me, you treasure every word I utter, you are all ready to die at my feet, I hold you in my power ... but out there, by the fountain, by that splas.h.i.+ng water, stands and waits he whom I love, who holds me in his power. He has neither rich raiment nor precious stones, no one knows him, but he awaits me, and is certain I shall come--and I shall come--and there is no power that could stop me when I want to go out to him, and to stay with him, and be lost with him out there in the darkness of the garden, under the whispering of the trees, and the splash of the fountain ...' Zinada ceased.

'Is that a made-up story?' Malevsky inquired slyly. Zinada did not even look at him.

'And what should we have done, gentlemen?' Lus.h.i.+n began suddenly, 'if we had been among the guests, and had known of the lucky fellow at the fountain?'

'Stop a minute, stop a minute,' interposed Zinada, 'I will tell you myself what each of you would have done. You, Byelovzorov, would have challenged him to a duel; you, Meidanov, would have written an epigram on him ... No, though, you can't write epigrams, you would have made up a long poem on him in the style of Barbier, and would have inserted your production in the _Telegraph_. You, Nirmatsky, would have borrowed ... no, you would have lent him money at high interest; you, doctor,...' she stopped. 'There, I really don't know what you would have done....'

'In the capacity of court physician,' answered Lus.h.i.+n, 'I would have advised the queen not to give b.a.l.l.s when she was not in the humour for entertaining her guests....'

'Perhaps you would have been right. And you, Count?...'

'And I?' repeated Malevsky with his evil smile....

'You would offer him a poisoned sweetmeat.' Malevsky's face changed slightly, and a.s.sumed for an instant a Jewish expression, but he laughed directly.

'And as for you, Voldemar,...' Zinada went on, 'but that's enough, though; let us play another game.'

'M'sieu Voldemar, as the queen's page, would have held up her train when she ran into the garden,' Malevsky remarked malignantly.

I was crimson with anger, but Zinada hurriedly laid a hand on my shoulder, and getting up, said in a rather shaky voice: 'I have never given your excellency the right to be rude, and therefore I will ask you to leave us.' She pointed to the door.