During dinner the Tsar conversed with him on various subjects, questioned him about the Spanish war, about France’s internal affairs, and the Regent, whom he liked though disapproved of in many ways. Ibrahim possessed a precise and observant mind. Peter was much pleased with his answers; he recalled one or two incidents of Ibrahim’s childhood and related them with such gaiety and good nature that nobody could have suspected this kind and hospitable host of being the hero of Poltava, and Russia’s mighty and formidable reformer.

After dinner the Tsar followed the Russian custom and retired to rest. Ibrahim was left with the Empress and the Grand Duchesses. He did his best to satisfy their curiosity, and described the Parisian mode of life, the festivals that were kept in that capital, and the capriciousness of fashion. In the meantime some of the persons closely associated with the Tsar appeared at the palace. Ibrahim recognized the magnificent Prince Menshikov,1 who, seeing a negro conversing with Catherine, cast an arrogant sideways glance at him; Prince Yakov Dolgoruky,2 Peter’s gruff councillor; the erudite Bruce3 whom the people called the ‘Russian Faust’ the young Raguzinsky, his former comrade; and others who came to the Tsar to make reports and receive orders.

A couple of hours later the Tsar emerged.

‘Let us see whether you have forgotten your old duties,’ he said to Ibrahim. ‘Take a slate and follow me.’

Peter shut himself up in his work-room and busied himself with state affairs. He worked in turn with Bruce, with Prince Dolgoruky, and with the chief of police, General Deviere, and dictated several ukases and decisions to Ibrahim.

Ibrahim could not sufficiently admire the clarity and quickness of his judgement, the power and flexibility of his mind and the wide range of his activities. When their labours were over, Peter took out a pocket-book in order to see whether all that he had intended to do that day had been accomplished. Then, as they were leaving the room, he said to Ibrahim:

‘It is late; I expect you are tired. Spend the night here as you used to do in the old days. I’ll wake you in the morning.’

Left alone, Ibrahim had difficulty in collecting his be bewildered senses. He was in Petersburg; he was seeing again the great man in whose house, not yet understanding his worth, he had passed his childhood. Almost with remorse he confessed to himself that, for the first time since their parting, the Countess L— had not been his sole thought throughout the day. He perceived that the new mode of life which awaited him – the activity and constant occupation – might revive his soul, wearied by passion, idleness and secret melancholy. The thought of being a great man’s fellow-worker and, together with him, influencing a great nation aroused in him for the first time a feeling of noble ambition. In this mood he lay down on the camp-bed that had been prepared for him – and then the familiar dream transported him back to far-off Paris and the arms of his dear Countess.

3

THE next morning Peter woke Ibrahim as promised, and conferred on him the rank of lieutenant-captain in the Grenadier company of the Preobrazhensky regiment. The courtiers crowded round Ibrahim, each in his way trying to make much of the new favourite. The haughty Prince Menshikov pressed his hand in a friendly manner; Sheremetyev1 inquired after his Parisian acquaintances, and Golovin2 invited him to dinner. The latter’s example was followed by others, too, so that Ibrahim received enough invitations to last him at least a month.

Ibrahim now began to lead an uneventful but busy life – consequently he did not suffer from ennui. He grew daily more attached to the Tsar and better able to apprehend his lofty mind. To follow a great man’s thoughts is the most absorbing of studies. Ibrahim saw Peter in the Senate arguing with Buturlin3 and Dolgoruky on important questions of legislation; at the Board of Admiralty laying the foundations of Russia’s naval power; he saw him with Feofan,4 Gavril Buzhinsky5 and Kopievich,6 in his hours of rest examining translations of foreign publications, or visiting some merchant’s manufactory, a craftsman’s workshop or a learned man’s study. Russia seemed to Ibrahim one huge work-room where only machines were moving and every worker was occupied with his job in accordance with a fixed plan. He felt that he, too, ought to be labouring at his appointed task, and tried to regret as little as possible the gaieties of Parisian life. He found it more difficult to banish from his mind that other dear memory: he often thought of the Countess L—, picturing her legitimate indignation, her tears and her grief…. But at times a terrible thought oppressed his heart: the distractions of high society, a new intrigue, another happy lover – he shuddered; jealousy began to set his African blood in a ferment, and scalding tears were ready to roll down his dusky cheeks.

One morning as he sat in his study surrounded by business papers he suddenly heard a loud greeting in the French tongue. Ibrahim turned round quickly – and young Korsakov, whom he had left in Paris in the whirl of society life, embraced him with joyful exclamations.

‘I have only just arrived,’ said Korsakov, ‘and have come straight to you. All our Parisian acquaintances send you their greetings, and regret your absence.