“An Assembly,” the decree explained, “is a free gathering not only for pleasure but for work.
“The host is neither obliged to receive his guests nor to see them to the door when they depart, nor is he expected to press them to eat.
“At the ‘Assembly’ people are free to sit, walk about, or join in the games and no one has a right to interfere, or check another’s actions; ceremonies, such as rising up to greet, conducting to the door, are forbidden under penalty of the fine of the ‘Great Eagle.’”
Both the supper-room and the room for dancing were spacious, but with exceedingly low ceilings; the walls of the former were covered with blue tiles, after the style of Dutch kitchens, pewter dishes were ranged along the shelves, the brick floor was strewn with sand, the large tiled stove was overheated. One of the three long tables was spread with cold savoury dishes, Peter’s favourite oysters, pickled sprats, lemons; on another table, chess and draught boards were laid; on a third packets of tobacco, baskets with clay pipes and piles of wooden splinters for pipe-lighters.
Tallow candles were faintly glimmering through the clouds of smoke. The low room, packed with people, reminded one of a skipper’s saloon in Plymouth or Rotterdam. The similarity was accentuated by a number of English and Dutch ship captains. Their wives, fat, smooth, glossy, with red cheeks, their feet tucked in fur warmers, knitted stockings, chatted and evidently felt quite at home.
Peter, smoking a short clay pipe, sipping mulled ale mixed with cognac, sugar and lemon juice, was playing chess with the Archimandrite Theodosius.
Anton Devière, the Chief Constable, timidly approached the Tsar like a guilty dog. It was difficult to decide whether he was a Jew or a Portuguese; his feminine face expressed that combination of sweetness and weakness found sometimes amongst southern faces.
“Your Majesty, the water is rising.”
“How much?”
“Two feet nine inches.”