CHAPTER CXXXIII.
PRINCE POTEMKIN.
Prince Potemkin was just out of bed. In front of him, two pages, richly dressed, bowed down to the floor as they opened the door for him to pass into his cabinet. Behind him, two more pages held up the train of his velvet dressing-gown, which, all bedecked with jewels, came trailing behind his tall, graceful figure. Behind the pages were four valets with breakfast and Turkish pipes.
And in this wise Prince Potemkin entered his cabinet. He threw himself upon an ottoman covered with India cashmere shawls, and received from a kneeling page a cup of chocolate, which was handed to his highness upon a gold waiter set with pearls. Then, as if the cup had been too troublesome to hold, he replaced it on the waiter, and ordered the page to pour the chocolate down.
The page, apparently, was accustomed to the order, for he rose briskly from his knees, and approaching the cup to Potemkin's lips, allowed the chocolate to trickle slowly down his princely throat. Meanwhile the three pages, four valets, and six officers, who had been awaiting him in his cabinet, stood around in stiff, military attitudes, each one uncomfortably conscious that he was momentarily exposed to the possible displeasure of the mighty favorite of the mighty Czarina.
Potemkin, meanwhile, vouchsafed not a look at any one of them. After he had sipped his chocolate, and the page had dried his mouth with an embroidered napkin, he opened his lips. The valet whose duty it was to present it, stepped forward with the Turkish pipe, and depositing its magnificent golden bowl upon the Persian carpet by the ottoman, placed the amber mouth-piece between the lips of his master.
Again a dead silence; and again those stiff forms stood reverentially around, while Potemkin, with an air of ennui and satiety, watched the blue wreaths that rose from his pipe to the ceiling.
"What o'clock is it?" asked he moodily.
"Mid-day, your highness," was the prompt reply.
"How many people in the anteroom?"
"A multitude of nobles, generals, and lesser petitioners, all awaiting your highness's appearance."
"How long have they been there?"
"Three hours, your highness."
His highness went on smoking, impelled probably by the reflection that three hours was too short a time for the court of Russia to wait for the ineffable blessing of his presence.
After a while he became weary of the pipe, and raised his head. Three valets rushed forward, each with an embroidered suit, to inquire whether his highness would wear the uniform of a field-marshal, that of a lord-chamberlain, or the magnificent costume of a Russian prince. Potemkin waved them off, and rose from the ottoman. His long brown hair, which flowed like the mane of a lion around his handsome face, bore here and there the traces of the down pillow upon which he had slept; his open dressing-gown exposed to view his slovenly undergarments; and his pearl-embroidered slippers were worn over a pair of soiled stockings which, hanging loosely around his legs, revealed his powerful and well-shaped calves.
In this neglige, Potemkin approached the door of his anteroom. As soon as he had been announced, a hundred weary faces grew bright with expectation; and princes, dukes, and nobles bowed before the haughty man who was even mightier than the empress; for HE bent before no mortal, while she was the slave of one will—of Potemkin's.
Silent and disdainful, Potemkin walked through the lines of obsequious courtiers that fell back as he passed, here and there condescending to greet some nobleman of wealth or influence. As for the others who raised their imploring eyes to his, he affected not to know of their insignificant presence, and returned to his cabinet without having vouchsafed a word to anybody.
"Is the jeweller there?" asked he of the officer at the door, and as the latter bowed his head, Potemkin added, "Admit him, and after him the minister of police."
With these words he passed into his cabinet, and his valets began to dress him. While his long mane was being combed into order, Potemkin amused himself playing like a juggler with three little golden balls, while the pale and trembling jeweller stood wondering what new robbery awaited him now.
"Ah, Artankopf, you are there?" said the prince, when his toilet had been completed. "I have an order for you."
The jeweller made a salam, and muttered some unintelligible words of which Potemkin took no notice.
"I saw a magnificent service of gold yesterday in your showcase."
"It is an order, your highness," said Artankopf, quickly.
"Then I cannot buy it?"
"Impossible, your highness."
"Then I order one exactly like it, above all in weight. The statuettes which ornament that service are exquisitely moulded. How much gold is there in it?"
"Sixty thousand rubles, your highness."
Potemkin's eyes sparkled. "A considerable sum," said he, stroking his mane. "I order two services of the same value. Do you hear? They must be ready on this day week."
"And the payment?" Artankopf ventured to inquire.
"I shall pay you in advance," replied Potemkin, with a laugh. "I appoint you first court-jeweller to the empress."
The jeweller did not appear to appreciate the mode of payment; he seemed terrified.
"Oh, your highness," said he, trembling, "I implore you not to make such fearful jests. I am the father of a large family, and if you exact of me to furnish you a service worth a fortune, the outlay for the gold alone will ruin me."
"You will be irretrievably ruined if you do not furnish it," laughed
Potemkin, while he went on throwing his balls and catching them "If
those two services are not here on the day you take a journey to
Siberia, friend Artankopf."
"I will be punctual, your highness," sighed the jeweller. "But the payment—I must buy the gold."
"The payment! What, the devil—you are not paid by the appointment I give you! Go: and if you venture to murmur, think of Siberia, and that will cure your grief."
With a wave of his hand, Potemkin dismissed the unhappy jeweller, who left that princely den of extortion a broken-hearted, ruined man.
The robber, meanwhile, was counting his gains and donning his field-marshal's uniform. "One hundred and twenty thousand rubles' worth of gold!" said he to himself. "I'll have the things melted into coin—it is more portable than plate."
The door opened, and Narischkin, the minister of police, entered.
"Out, the whole gang of you!" cried Potemkin; and there was a simultaneous exodus of officers, pages, and valets. When the heavy, gold-bordered silken portiere had fallen, the tyrant spoke.
"Now let us hear your report," said he, seating himself before his toilet-mirror, where first he cleaned his dazzling white teeth, and then pared his nails.
The minister of police, in an attitude of profound respect, began to go over the occurrences of the past two days in St. Petersburg.
Potemkin listened with an occasional yawn, and finally interrupted him. "You are an old fool. What do I care for your burglars and bankrupts! You have not so much as a murder to relate to me. Can you not guess that there are other things of which I wish to hear?"
"Doubtless your highness wishes me to report the doings of the Emperor of Austria."
"You are not quite such a dunce, then, as you seem to be. Well, what has the emperor been about these two days past?"
"He leads the same life as he did in Moscow," said Narischkin. "He goes about as Count Falkenstein."
"He comes as his own ambassador," cried Potemkin, laughing, "and he could not have chosen a worse one than Count Falkenstein. [Footnote: Potemkin's own words.] What a wretched country Austria must be when its emperor travels about like an ordinary Russian gentleman!"
"He arrived in St. Petersburg with one servant carrying his portmanteau, and engaged two rooms at a hotel."
"Oh, yes. I have heard of his passion for living at hotels. It all proceeds from avarice. Were he the guest of the empress, he would be obliged to make some imperial presents here and there. When our great czarina invited him to Sarskoe-Selo, he accepted, on condition that he should be allowed to lodge at an inn. Now there happens to be no inn at Sarskoe-Selo; so the imperial gardener has hung out a sign, and the little Count of Falkenstein is to take up his lodging with him. He never will be the wiser, and will fancy himself at an inn. So that in trifles, as in matters of state, the czarina shall befool Austria, and lead him by the nose. Tell me something more of his eccentricities. Have you dazzled him with a sight of our wealth?"
"He is not to be dazzled, your highness. Even the homage he has received seems to give him no pleasure."
"Ah! Has he, then, been the object of so much consideration?"
"Her majesty ordered it, and she has even devised some delicate compliments wherewith to surprise him."
"Ah!—she seems to be inclined toward this little emperor," muttered Potemkin. "She indulges in fanciful projects of aggrandizement with him, and forgets—Well—what were the surprises which the czarina prepared for his countship?"
"Day before yesterday, he visited the Academy of Sciences. An atlas was presented to him; and when he opened it, he found a map of his own journey from Vienna to St. Petersburg, with engravings illustrating the various details of the journey." [Footnote: Theodore Mundl, "Conflicts for the Black Sea," p. 141]
"Pretty good," sneered Potemkin, "but unfortunately not original, for the little count received a similar compliment in Paris. Go on."
"Then the emperor visited the Academy of Arts, and there he found a portfolio of engravings, among which was an excellent portrait of himself with this inscription: 'Multorum providus urbes et mores honaivum inspexit.'"
"Who wrote the inscription?" asked Potemkin, hastily.
"Her majesty's self," replied Narischkin, with a deep inclination at the name. "But the emperor greets every thing with a quiet smile. When he visited the mint and saw the enormous piles of bullion there, he merely said: 'Have you always as much silver in the mint as there is to-day?'"
Potemkin laughed aloud. "That was a sly question, and shows that little Falkenstein has been peeping behind the scenes and has discovered that we were prepared for his coming."
"Yes, your highness. It would appear that Count Falkenstein does not quite believe in our enormous wealth; for after seeing the mint, he put on that mocking smile of his, and asked whether the Imperial Bank was in a condition to redeem its issue."
"What was the answer?"
"'Yes,' of course, your highness."
"It was a masterpiece of effrontery then, and I shall take the opportunity of testing its truth. Go to the bank, Narischkin, and say that I need one hundred thousand rubles for an entertainment I propose to give to the czarina. I must have it in coin. Quick—begone."
"I fly, your highness, but first be so kind as to give me the imperial order. You well know that no coin can leave the bank without the signature of the empress."
"I should like to see whether they will dare to return MY signature," cried Potemkin, fiercely.
He wrote the order, and handing it to Narischkin, said: "Take this to the bank directors; and if they ask for the signature of the empress, tell them she will send it to-morrow, but I must have the money to-day."
Narischkin bowed lower than he had ever been seen to do toward the son of the empress himself, and left the room on reverential tiptoes.