“Well, and how about the Countess L——”
“The Countess? Of course, at first she was very much grieved on account of your departure; then, of course, little by little, she grew reconciled and took unto herself a new lover: do you know whom? The long-legged Marquis R——. Why do you show the whites of your negro eyes in that manner? Does it seem strange to you? Don’t you know that lasting grief is not in human nature, particularly in feminine nature? Think over this well, while I go and rest after my journey, and don’t forget to come and call for me.”
What feelings filled the soul of Ibrahim? Jealousy? Rage? Despair? No, but a deep, oppressing sorrow. He repeated to himself: “I foresaw it, it had to happen.” Then he opened the Countess’s letter, read it again, hung his head and wept bitterly. He wept for a long time. The tears relieved his heart. Looking at the clock, he perceived that it was time to set out. Ibrahim would have been very glad to stay away, but the assembly was a matter of duty, and the Emperor strictly demanded the presence of his retainers. He dressed himself and started out to call for Korsakoff.
Korsakoff was sitting in his dressing-gown, reading a French book.
“So early?” he said to Ibrahim, on seeing him.
“Pardon me,” the latter replied; “it is already half-past five, we shall be late; make haste and dress and let us go.”
Korsakoff started up and rang the bell with all his might; the servants came running in, and he began hastily to dress, himself. His French valet gave him shoes with red heels, blue velvet breeches, and a red caftan embroidered with spangles. His peruke was hurriedly powdered in the antechamber and brought in to him. Korsakoff placed it upon his cropped head, asked for his sword and gloves, turned round about ten times before the glass, and then informed Ibrahim that he was ready. The footmen handed them their bearskin cloaks, and they set out for the Winter Palace.
Korsakoff overwhelmed Ibrahim with questions: Who was the greatest beauty in Petersburg? Who was supposed to be the best dancer? Which dance was just then the rage? Ibrahim very reluctantly gratified his curiosity. Meanwhile they reached the palace. A great number of long sledges, old-fashioned carriages, and gilded coaches already stood on the lawn. Near the steps were crowded coachmen in liveries and moustaches; running footmen glittering with tinsel and feathers, and bearing staves; hussars, pages, and clumsy servants loaded with the cloaks and muffs of their masters—a train indispensable according to the notions of the gentry of that time. At the sight of Ibrahim, a general murmur arose: “The negro, the negro, the Czar’s negro!” He hurriedly conducted Korsakoff through this motley crowd. The Court lackey opened wide the doors to them, and they entered the hall. Korsakoff was dumfounded.... In the large room, illuminated by tallow candles, which burnt dimly amidst clouds of tobacco smoke, magnates with blue ribbons across their shoulders, ambassadors, foreign merchants, officers of the Guards in green uniforms, ship-masters in jackets and striped trousers, moved backwards and forwards in crowds to the uninterrupted sound of the music of wind instruments. The ladies sat against the walls, the young ones being decked out in all the splendour of the prevailing fashion. Gold and silver glittered upon their dresses; out of monstrous farthingales their slender forms rose like flower stalks; diamonds sparkled in their ears, in their long curls, and around their necks. They glanced gaily about to the right and to the left, waiting for their cavaliers and for the dancing to begin. The elderly ladies craftily endeavoured to combine the new style of dress with that of the past; their caps were made to resemble the small sable head-dress of the Empress Natalia Kirilovna,[2] and their gowns and mantles recalled the sarafan and doushegreika.[3] They seemed to take part in these newly introduced amusements more with astonishment than pleasure, and cast looks of resentment at the wives and daughters of the Dutch skippers, who, in dimity skirts and red jackets, knitted their stockings and laughed and chatted among themselves as if they were at home.
Observing new arrivals, a servant approached them with beer and glasses on a tray. Korsakoff was completely bewildered.
“Que diable est ce que tout cela?” he said in a whisper to Ibrahim.