‘What a marvellous idea.’ He dried his eyes on a silk handkerchief.
‘I’ll have some sent up.’
‘Nina, there’s no doubt you are the nonpareil of sisters.’
He embraced her, able because of his greater height to hold her head against his breast. Unseen by him she pursed her lips. Presently she disengaged herself and left. After a moment’s thought he followed her, went to the stairhead and bawled the name ‘Brevda’ several times. Other voices took it up. After no very long time the sound of running feet became audible. Alexander retreated and stood looking out of the east window with his back to the gallery. The footfalls approached, slowed, shuffled, and an uncertain voice, a man’s voice, said behind him,
‘You called me, sir?’
‘Yes, Brevda, I called you. Would you be good enough to run my bath and then when I’m in it lay out my mess-dress?’
‘With great pleasure, your honour.’ Brevda spoke readily, perhaps with more than readiness; his master’s hardly less usual practice was to converse in unadorned imperatives with manner to match. He never complained or showed the least resentment; to do either would be unproductive at best, true, for Brevda was actually Trooper Brevda, Alexander’s bat-man, on indefinite but all too easily terminable detachment to the parental household in an era of servant shortage. At the same time he had been known to show what looked like a genuine regard, anyway something more than his position required. He stood now in renewed uncertainty, this time wondering whether he was to consider himself dismissed or not. Alexander had still not turned round. A moment or two later he said,
‘I think one should take life as it comes, don’t you, Brevda, not considering every detail from every possible angle?’
‘That would certainly seem to be a cumbersome procedure, sir.’
‘It doesn’t enhance a pleasure to dwell on it, as far as I can see.
‘My own experience has been along the same lines, sir.’
‘It’s very important to behave naturally and spontaneously. don’t you think?’
‘Of the greatest consequence, sir.’
‘After all, what are we to do in this world but enjoy ourselves?’
‘One might well ask, sir.’
Turning at last, Alexander gave Brevda a keen glance. Brevda, bespectacled, thin, untidy, much scarred by acne, looked steadily back. Then, simultaneously, both smiled. Alexander said briskly,
‘Make sure the bath isn’t too hot. It’s not January.’
‘Very good, your honour.’
Three-quarters of an hour later Alexander was on his way to join his father’s party. The Guards mess-dress (light-grey jacket with yellow piping and gold-plated bars of rank, matching trousers with a double gold stripe down the outer seam) showed off his handsome appearance to perfection. In the lobby before the drawing-room he paused. Here was the window-pane or panel his mother had referred to, once a small oblong of engraved glass, now a rough triangle of the same with the missing portion inexpertly filled in by a later hand. Part of the east front of the house could be seen depicted, together with some of the trees that had formerly stood near it. An inscription across the top referred to… omas Alexander third L … The very fragmentariness of this text had caught the imagination of the present Alexander, who had built up a mental picture of his namesake that was an only slightly idealised version of himself. Sometimes it occurred to him that, living in the same place and being, he would have said, of a sensitive cast of mind, he might one day attain a special, quasi-telepathic understanding of that distant figure; certainly he often asked himself what ‘Alexander’ would have felt, thought, done at some local turn of events.
Not so this evening, a warm, still time when colours faded in the ravaged gardens and a tiny breath of cooler air crept across the pond towards the house, one that would in the past have carried with it scents of the rural outdoors, some readily traceable, others strange and puzzling. For a moment Alexander tried to imagine them, to smell them, but even as he did so a delicious, distracting melancholy possessed him; he felt as if he had renounced all ambition, all art, all natural beauty for a doomed love. Peering through the thickening shadows to where the avenue of cypresses had stood, resting his forehead against the window, he whispered, ‘I am yours and yours alone, and the world shall end when I so much as permit another to glide into my dreams, my very dear lost one.’ He was of course addressing nobody in particular, nobody in existence, though all male persons and all females outside a fairly narrow age-group were unconsideringly excluded from his avowal. The tone of things in general seemed to him gravely lowered when, a moment later, he found he was wondering to quite a degree about Mrs Korotchenko.
2
Mrs Korotchenko had been fairly described by Nina as far as that description had gone; she, the wife of the Deputy-Director of Security, was in addition of muscular build, black-haired with that hair fashionably short and, tonight, clad in a dress of unprinted muslin so cut as to show off the afore-mentioned bosom. She also had on a light, fawn-coloured stole. Her husband, a thickset, heavily-whiskered fellow in formal olive-green, stood at her side during introductions in the drawing-room. The last one in the short line was a dark-complexioned young man called Theodore Markov, who could not have been more than thirty but was already going bald at the temples. He wore a dark-blue linen suit with single-breasted jacket and narrow trouser-cuffs.
‘Good evening, my dear chap,’ said Theodore Markov in his melodious voice.
‘Fine to see you, old customer,’ returned Korotchenko, rather grudgingly taking the other’s hand. If he had been surer of his ground he might not have done so at all, and he would certainly not have fallen in with the prevailing liberal fad of exchanging remarks in English by way of salutation. But he was a little overawed by the rest of the male company, Controller Petrovsky, who was his host, and Lieutenant-Colonel Tabidze, the military commander of the district. Nor had he been much comforted by the cool glance Mrs Tabidze had given him on their being introduced, even though what women thought of him was of no significance. Altogether the process of settling down in his new post (he had arrived only the previous month) had proved to hold its irritations.
In his not-so-distant youth Sergei Petrovsky had often been spoken of as the handsomest man in Moscow, and even today there was a young man’s vigour in his bearing and a bloom to his complexion, though his head of tawny hair and neatly-trimmed full beard bore heavy grey streaks. With a smile that showed excellent teeth he said to the newly-arrived Theodore Markov, who had just taken a glass of vodka from a servant’s tray,
‘Throw that down and have another, my boy. These fiddling little affairs hold no more than a coffee-spoon.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said his guest, doing as he was told. ‘Your very good health.’
‘Fair fortune. Help yourself to the beluga – I really can recommend it – and then come and talk to my daughter. I’m afraid I must insist on that, out of pure self-protection. If I fail to steer an unattached young man in her direction, I never hear the end of it. – Nina, my dear, I believe I told you Mr Markov is a member of our famous Commission.’
Nina had changed into an evening gown of her favourite mauve. It left her arms bare and in so doing exposed a large number of freckles, but there was that in the rest of her appearance or in her demeanour which prevented them from being a blemish. She liked the look of Theodore’s mouth and hands and thought his slight baldness only made him seem the more mature and wise.
‘Yes, papa,’ she said. ‘Tell me, Mr Markov, what department do you work in? Or is that a secret?’
Theodore answered her smile with his own. ‘Nothing we do is a secret. That’s rather the point of us. I’m in the music section.’
‘Music?’ Nina sounded surprised but quickly corrected herself. ‘Oh, I suppose there must be a certain amount.’
‘There’s a great deal, some of it very interesting, believe me.
‘You don’t happen to play the piano by any chance, d
o you?’
‘I don’t exactly happen to play the piano by any chance,’ said Theodore, smiling again. ‘I play intentionally, of set purpose, and rather well. Not very well, just rather well. Well enough for you, Miss Petrovsky, I think I can safely say.’
‘Possibly. But this is wonderful. You shall play for us after dinner and let us hear some of your discoveries. Piano music- in these parts we’re lucky if we have some twice a year.’
‘I suggest perhaps your father’s permission…
‘I don’t give permissions,’ said Petrovsky. ‘I find out what is to happen and either welcome it heartily, as in this instance, or submit to it with what grace I can. I may tell you, young Markov, that your only chance of not finding yourself at that piano disappeared for ever the moment you revealed you could play it. I look forward very much to the prospect. -Nina, darling, are you sure Alexander is to honour us with his company this evening?’
‘I’m sure he said he was going to, papa. That’s as much as one can ever be sure of with him.’
‘Do you think I don’t know my own son? Not that a father’s experience is needed. The most superficial acquaintance would suffice. He knows Elizabeth is coming?’
‘You don’t seem to know that that cuts no ice with him, but I’m pretty sure he’ll turn up this time,’ said Nina, momentarily shifting her glance. ‘I’ve got a feeling he will.’
‘It may be useful to you sooner than you think, Markov, to learn that when my daughter’s mouth curls at the corners like that she has something up her sleeve.’
‘Papa! Must I give reasons for everything? Well, you mark my words: he’ll be here any minute now. He’s just preparing his entrance. You’ll see.
‘No doubt I shall. Now I’m not sure my presence at this spot is vitally necessary. Korotchenko there may need a hand – the gallant colonel has his prejudices, I’m afraid.’
Petrovsky took his leave of the two and went across to where those just mentioned stood by one of the tall windows that looked out on the south side of the house. The traces of what had been inset paintings on the ceiling and walls were too scanty for even the type of subject to be discernible, though Nina had once fancied she could see a dog in one of them. Now, against cinnamon-brown wallpaper arabesqued in gold, there hung undistinguished pictures illustrating Russian life and a few frankly rather gloomy ikons. The furniture, on the other hand, Petrovsky considered quite good – it was all Karelian except for the horse-hair sofa which his wife had been surprised to pick up locally, and the bookcase of black oak. He was proud of the Kurdistan carpet, the tiger-skin rug from the shore of the Sea of Aral and such pieces as the gold Peter the First clock on the overmantel. Its hands stood at eight minutes to one; they had stood so for an unknowable number of years before it had come into Petrovsky’s possession, but he was still proud of it.
The door opened and Alexander strode in. He made straight for the nearest group, which consisted of his mother, Mrs Tabidze, Mrs Korotchenko and Elizabeth, surnamed Cuy, the twenty-year-old girl who had been his dinner-partner a score of times and a spare female disappointed by him almost half as often. Nina watched in fascination as he greeted his mother, Mrs Tabidze and Elizabeth and turned to be introduced to Mrs Korotchenko. Theodore was talking entertainingly enough about his work with the Commission, but Nina could not help turning through a quarter of a circle and uttering a quiet but distinct snigger.
‘I seem to have failed to hold your interest,’ said her companion amiably.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Markov, I hate appearing rude to you, so much so that I’ll have to run the risk of speaking rather improperly.’
‘That doesn’t sound very unsafe to me.
‘Well – are you acquainted with Mrs Korotchenko at all?’
‘I’ve seen her in public two or three times, nothing more.
‘In that case… would you agree that she has an exceptional bosom?’
‘Well yes, I think I’d have to. A bit too exceptional for my taste.’
‘Not for Alexander’s. You don’t know him well, do you?’
‘I’ve met him twice, and liked him.’
‘I’m glad of that. Well, he wasn’t going to turn up tonight -he gets silly moods when he goes solitary to try and get attention – and then I mentioned the bosom, which I’d seen on Tuesday, and quite soon after that he said he thought he’d come after all. But what made me laugh just now was the way he absolutely made up his mind not to goggle at it when he was introduced and then goggled at it. What’s he doing now? I daren’t look.’
Theodore furtively turned his eyes. ‘Goggling at it.’
‘Oh, dear God. Is her husband watching?’
‘Just a… No, his back’s almost turned and your father’s saying something to him. It should be all right if Alexander stops goggling reasonably soon.’
‘Good. We don’t want Mr Korotchenko challenging him to a duel.’
‘He’s not the type. Far too cautious.’
‘I suppose that helps if you work under someone like Director Vanag.’
‘You sound a good deal less than fond of him.’
‘He’s a pig.’
‘What has he done?’ asked Theodore, naturally enough, for she had spoken with the heat of personal dislike.
‘I don’t know. I mean he’s done nothing to me. I see as little of him as possible. But anybody who does that job must be a pig.’
He started to say something and checked himself, noticing that Alexander, with Elizabeth Cuy at his side, was on his way to where they stood. Theodore and Nina looked at each other and went on looking, indeed stared hard. She was so sure he was about to take her hands that she drew in her breath and a blush coloured her pale cheeks.
‘Can I see you again soon?’ he asked indistinctly.
‘Of course. Of course.’
Then the other two had come up and there was no further chance of talking privately before dinner. The dining-room, originally the central portion of a hall rising the full height of the house, faced west on to a court bounded by a red-brick wing, a wall of the same material broken by two gateways and, in front, a low stone balustrade. Away from this ran a double line of plane-tree stumps, corresponding to the cypresses on the other side. The fine marble chimney-piece in the room was almost undamaged, and the long table of Crimean walnut was thought to go suitably with it. At the moment the prettily mottled and figured surface of the table was spread with silver plate and cutlery, wine bottles, glasses – three at each place, sweetmeats and bowls full of the roses cut earlier. Brown-clad footmen with white gloves settled the company into their chairs. Petrovsky at the head had Mrs Tabidze and Mrs Korotchenko respectively on his right and left; his wife at the foot repeated the pattern with their husbands. Theodore found himself between Mrs Korotchenko and Nina, an excellent position as it proved, for the senior lady gave all her attention to Petrovsky, while the colonel, on Nina’s other side, exchanged a couple of brisk amiabilities with her and began a conversation with his hostess. As he and Nina talked, which they did with some concentration, Theodore glanced over at Alexander a few times. Once he was saying something to the Cuy girl; once he was listening to whatever Mrs Tabidze had to say to him; twice his eye was on Mrs Korotchenko. And once he met Theodore’s glance with a look of genial friendliness, as if to encourage him in his attentions to Nina and to wish him well.
A prune soup opened the meal, accompanied by sweet sherry and followed by grilled salmon with radishes and beet-roots. The wine was a first-class, long-lived Pouilly Blanc Fumé The final course consisted of a hot fruit salad, whipped cream and little macaroons; chilled Georgian champagne circulated. Finally chocolates, fudge, sugared almonds, buttered tea, a fine brandy (also from Georgia) and cigars were offered.
Now, with the servants dismissed, Petrovsky rapped for silence and said, ‘Let me inform newcomers that the rule of the house requires us, before returning to the drawing-room, to follow the ancient and honourable tradition of spending some minutes in conversation rou
nd the table.’
Tabidze, a dark lean man of fifty, very trim in his regimentals, gave a dry chuckle. ‘Did I hear something about an ancient and honourable tradition, Sergei? You must be turning conservative in your old age.’
‘Oh, I think that’s a little unfair, Nicholas. I’ve never been opposed to traditions as such. It’s the unthinking acceptance of them that I deplore.’
‘Strange how often it seems to amount to the same thing. Take this land-tenure reform of yours, now. I don’t pretend to have gone into the details, but I’ve grasped the main outline. What you intend is revolutionary. The present system has worked perfectly well for over forty years and you want to turn it upside down.’
‘Not at all, I merely want to make it work better. Remember that all I have done – all my advisers and I have done – is frame a set of proposals for submission to the central authority. Who will quite certainly tone them down a great deal at best; we took account of that. I foresee that when the amended version goes into effect, if it ever does, even you, my dear Nicholas, will find very little ground for concern.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ Tabidze inspected a cigar and turned to Korotchenko. ‘What is your view of the matter, sir?’
‘The view of so recent a newcomer could hardly…’
‘No, please,’ said Petrovsky, ‘I want to hear what everybody thinks.’
‘I beg your pardon, Controller, I have not yet had time to study the protocol with the closeness required to do it justice.’
Theodore nudged Nina, then looked to his right. Mrs Korotchenko sat facing her front, her attention quite unfixed, as though the talk were being conducted in a language altogether strange to her; perhaps it was, he thought, not yet having heard her speak. In profile her eyelid showed a slight epicanthic fold, suggesting Mongoloid ancestry. Now Alexander spoke, and Theodore listened and watched with the greatest care.
‘If you really want to know what everybody thinks, papa, including the young, you shall hear what I think, though I fancy you have a moderate idea already.’ Alexander’s tone and manner were entirely respectful, neither heavy nor frivolous. ‘I can reassure the respected colonel that nothing is going to be turned upside down or even moved more than a couple of millimetres from its present position. – Your account, sir, of my father as nursing revolutionary intentions could not, with deference, be more mistaken; you were unintentionally right when you called him a conservative. But I’d better address him direct. – You dislike and fear change, papa, but you also have a conscience. Something should be done, something is done, something has been done, and everything is as it was before, except that some people feel better about it. Oh yes, you’re not the only one; half the men who run this country are of the same stamp. Now I come to think of it, there is one other result of the change that’s no change: a lot of those with a grievance will also have the illusion that something has been done, so the rulers are actually safer as well as more comfortable in mind.’
Russian Hide-and-Seek Page 2
