‘Run and stop him, and for the future…’

‘Are you raving, dunderhead?’ interrupted Yekimovna the fool. ‘Or perhaps you are blind? That’s the Imperial sledge: the Tsar has come.’

Gavril Afanassyevich hastily got up from the table; everybody rushed to the windows, and, sure enough, they saw the Emperor walking up the steps, leaning on his orderly’s shoulder. There was a general hurly-burly. The host rushed to meet Peter; the servants ran hither and thither as if they had gone crazy; the guests took fright – some even thinking how they might depart home as quickly as possible. Suddenly Peter’s loud voice was heard on the other side of the door; the room was hushed, and the Tsar entered, accompanied by his host, overcome with joy.

‘Good day, ladies and gentlemen!’ said Peter gaily.

All made a low bow. The Tsar’s sharp eyes sought out the host’s daughter in the crowd, and he called her to him. Natalia Gavrilovna advanced boldly enough, though she was blushing not merely to the ears but to the shoulders too.

‘You grow prettier every day,’ the Emperor said, kissing her upon the head as was his habit. Then, turning to the guests, he added: ‘Well, have I disturbed you? Were you dining? Pray be seated again; and give me some aniseedvodka, Gavril Afanassyevich.’

The host rushed to his stately major-domo, snatched the tray from his hands and, filling a golden goblet, himself handed it with a bow to the Emperor. Peter drank the vodka, ate a dry biscuit, and once more invited the company to go on with their dinner. All resumed their former places except the dwarf and the companion, who did not dare to remain at a table graced by the Tsar’s presence. Peter sat down next to Gavril Afanassyevich and asked for some soup. His orderly handed him a wooden spoon with ivory mountings, and a knife and fork with green bone handles, for Peter used no forks and spoons but his own. The dinner which a moment ago had rung with talk and laughter continued in silence and constraint.

The host, out of respect and delight, ate nothing; the guests also stood on ceremony and listened with reverent homage to the Emperor chatting in German to the captive Swede about the campaign of 1701. The fool Yekimovna, whom the Emperor addressed more than once, replied with a sort of timid aloofness, which, be it noted, was in no sense a mark of natural stupidity on her part. At last the dinner came to an end. The Tsar rose, and after him all the other guests.

‘Gavril Afanassyevich,’ he said to the host, ‘I want a word with you in private.’ And taking him by the arm he led him into the drawing-room, shutting the door behind them.

The guests stayed in the dining-room, talking in whispers about this unexpected visit and, afraid of being indiscreet, they soon one after another went home, without having thanked the host for his hospitality. His father-in-law, daughter and sister saw them very quietly to the door, and remained alone in the dining-room, waiting for the Emperor to come out.

5

HALF an hour later the door opened and Peter appeared. With a grave inclination of his head he acknowledged the salutations of Prince Lykov, Tatiana Afanassyevna and Natasha, and walked straight into the ante-room. Rzhevsky helped him on with his red sheepskin coat, accompanied him to the sledge, and on the steps thanked him once more for the honour he had shown him.

Peter drove away.

Returning to the dining-room, Gavril Afanassyevich seemed much preoccupied; he angrily ordered the servants to make haste and clear the table, sent Natasha to her room and saying to his sister and father-in-law that he wanted to talk to them led them into the bedroom where he usually rested after dinner. The old prince stretched himself upon the oak bedstead; Tatiana Afanassyevna settled in the old brocaded arm-chair, drawing up a footstool for her feet; Gavril Afanassyevich locked all the doors, sat down at the foot of the bed by Prince Lykov, and in a low voice began:

‘It was not for nothing that the Emperor was graciously pleased to come and see me: guess what he wanted to talk to me about.’

‘How can we tell, my dear brother?’ said Tatiana Afanassyevna.

‘Has the Tsar appointed you governor somewhere?’ said his father-in-law. ‘It is high time he did so. Or has he offered you an embassy? Why not? It is not only government secretaries who are sent to foreign sovereigns, but persons of quality as well.’

‘No,’ Rzhevsky answered with a frown. ‘I am a man of the old school, and our services are not needed now, although it may be an Orthodox Russian gentleman is worth as much as these modern upstarts, pancake-sellers and heathens. But that is a different matter.’

‘Then what did he talk to you about, all that time?’ asked Tatiana Afanassyevna. ‘Can it be some misfortune has befallen you? The Lord save and defend us!’

‘It isn’t exactly misfortune, but I confess I was rather taken aback.’

‘But what is it, brother? What has happened?’

‘It is about Natasha: the Tsar came to make a match for her.’

‘Praise be!’ said Tatiana Afanassyevna, crossing herself. ‘The girl is of marriageable age, and like match-maker, like suitor. God give them love and concord: it is a great honour. For whom does the Tsar ask her hand?’

‘H’m!’ Gavril Afanassyevich cleared his throat. ‘For whom? That’s just it – for whom!’

‘For whom, then?’ repeated Prince Lykov, who was beginning to doze off.

‘Guess,’ said Gavril Afanassyevich.

‘My dear brother,’ replied the old lady, ‘how can we guess? There are no end of marriageable young men at Court, any one of whom would be glad to take your Natasha to wife. Is it Dolgoruky?’

‘No, it isn’t Dolgoruky.’

‘Just as well: far too high and mighty.