And she took me into her sleeping-room, commanded her maid to set out the jewel casket, and showed me her treasures,—a magnificent collection of pearls, diamonds, and other precious stones. She took out a pretty little brooch of brilliants.
“See, this is the cadeau de noce, mais d’abord il faut avoir ‘le promis.’”
She questioned me: was there no one who was attentive to me, no one who especially pleased me? No, my heart was free.—She herself, a short time before, had been not far from contracting a second marriage. The preceding summer at Biarritz the Duke of Osuna, the greatest and richest nobleman of Spain, had sued for her hand, but she could not make up her mind to it; she was now living only for the future of her children, and besides she was already taking too much delight in looking forward to her return to her native land, from which she was banished until her son Niko should have reached his majority.
One afternoon, during the Kur-concert, we were all sitting on the terrace once more in our usual places in the Dedopali’s circle. There was a rumor that the Tsar, Alexander II, was in Homburg on that day: perhaps he would come into the Kurpark. In fact, suddenly a commotion arose, and from all sides came the cry, L’Empereur, l’Empereur!... And down below in the park could be seen the tall, imposing figure of Alexander II, who, accompanied by his aides, was promenading below the terrace. As soon as his eye fell on the Dedopali he came hurrying up the steps. The princess arose and moved forward to meet him, and he seized her hand and kissed it. The rest of us stood at a respectful distance; but I heard when after a short conversation the Emperor proposed in a somewhat louder tone and in French, “Shall we not take a turn through the gaming-rooms?” And he offered her his arm. The rest of us followed.
At the roulette table Alexander II borrowed a few gold pieces from his companion,—either he had no money with him or else he thought that borrowed money brings luck,—and threw the stake on the red. He won, let the money stand a few times, but ultimately it was swept in by the little rake, relentless even toward autocrats.
Another episode remains in my memory, a call which Adelina Patti paid to the Princess of Mingrelia. She came accompanied by a lady companion, and remained a short half hour in the corner drawing-room, while I also happened to be there. The sort of awesome timidity with which the autocrat of all the Russias had affected me a few days before filled me now in a different way, but almost to the same degree, in the presence of this victorious yet childishly bashful sovereign in the empire of song—an empire which had stood before my mind as one of the mightiest ever since my childhood. The conversation turned principally on music, and when she was asked as to her favorite rôle, Adelina Patti named Marguerite in Faust.
VII
HERACLIUS OF GEORGIA
A disappointed dream of love
One day a new figure appeared in the princess’s circle. A man of about forty: elegant figure of medium height, regular features with a melancholy, almost gloomy expression, and a long, narrow black imperial.
“My dear cousin, Prince Heraclius of Georgia—my darling Contessina, of whom I have told you so much,” said the princess, as she introduced us.
The cousin from Georgia pleased me and I pleased him also. Such a thing is detected instantly. A lively conversation immediately sprang up between us. Now we met several times a day, for the prince was constantly in his cousin’s company, was invited to her rooms for all meals and for the evenings. In the evening they used to have music—what is called music: the oldest son drummed on the piano and sang all kinds of songs from the music-halls and the boulevards; the rest joined in; I rendered a few real piano pieces,—Chopin nocturnes, Mendelssohn caprices, and Liszt rhapsodies,—sang a few of the ballads that were lying around, and reaped a rich harvest of applause. I was admired day after day as a musical marvel.