He murmured to himself. I foresaw it, it was bound to happen. Then he opened the countess's letter, read it over again, hung his head, and wept bitterly. Long did he weep. Those tears relieved him. He looked at his watch and found that it was time to start. Gladly would he have stayed away, but the party was an affair of duty, and the Tsar was strict in exacting the attendance of those attached to him.
He dressed and started to fetch Korsakoff. Korsakoff was sitting in his dressing gown, reading a French book.
"So early?" he exclaimed, seeing Ibrahim.
"Excuse me," the other replied, "it's already half-past five, we shall be late; make haste and dress, and let us go."
Korsakoff hurriedly rang the bell with all his might; the servants hurried in, and he began hastily to dress. His French valet handed him slippers with red heels, light blue velvet breeches, a pink kaftan embroidered with spangles. In the antechamber his wig was hurriedly powdered and brought in; Korsakoff pushed into it his closely cropped head, asked for his sword and gloves, turned ten times before the glass, and announced to Ibrahim that he was ready. The footmen handed them their bearskin overcoats, and they drove off to the Winter Palace.
Korsakoff smothered Ibrahim with questions.
Who was the belle of St. Petersburg. Which man was considered the best dancer? and which dance was the most fashionable? Ibrahim very reluctantly gratified his curiosity. Meanwhile they reached the palace. A number of long sledges, old carriages, and gilded coaches stood on the lawn. Near the steps were crowded coachmen in livery and moustaches, outriders glittering with tinsel, with feathers and maces, hussars, pages and awkward footmen carrying their masters' furcoats and muffs, a following indispensable according to the notions of the gentry of that period. At sight of Ibrahim a general murmur ran. "The negro, the negro, the Tzar's negro!" He hurriedly led Korsakoff through this motley crowd. The Court footman opened wide the doors; and they entered a large room. Korsakoff was dumb with astonishment. In this big hall, lighted up with tallow candles dimly burning amidst clouds of tobacco smoke, sat magnates with blue ribbons across their shoulders, ambassadors, foreign merchants, officers of the guards in their green uniform, shipbuilders in jackets and striped trousers, all moving to and fro in crowds to the unceasing sound of sacred music. The ladies sat near to the walls;—the young attired in all the splendour of fashion. Gold and silver shone upon their gowns; from the midst of wide crinolines their slender figures rose like flower stalks. Diamonds glittered in their ears, in their long curls, and round their neck. They turned gaily to the right and left awaiting the gentlemen and the dancing.
Elderly ladies tried cunningly to combine the new style of dress with the vanished past; caps were modelled on the small sable hat of the Tsaritsa Natalia Kirilovna, and gowns and mantles somehow recalled the sarafan and dushegreika (short jacket without sleeves). They seemed to share rather with wonder than enjoyment in these new imported amusements, and glanced angrily at the wives and daughters of the Dutch skippers, who in cotton skirts and red jackets knitted their stockings and sat laughing and talking quite at ease amongst themselves. Seeing the fresh arrivals, a servant approached with beer and tumblers on a tray. Korsakoff in bewilderment whispered to Ibrahim.