CHAPTER VIII
IN CAMP
It cannot be denied that, on that momentous evening, the marked interest of the Grand-Duchess in Ivan and his general success, were out of all proportion to a performance which, as a matter of fact, any one in the room could probably have duplicated. True, Princess Helena's unerring judgment had at once marked the originality, the distinctiveness, of the young man's improvisation; though she did not fail also to mark his numberless transgressions of the rigid laws of harmony. And Ivan himself, when all was over, began to feel some little mortification that he had so openly betrayed his pleasure in his accomplishment; and he presently discovered that de Windt himself could teach him points in progression and modification of which he knew nothing: whereupon, behold him once again on fire to get to work at his long-delayed, vaguely-foreshadowed profession.
His rendering of the now celebrated barcarolle, had given him an unquestioned place in the salon of the Grand-Duchess, which henceforth he frequented regularly. And there he met with both adulation and opposition. To his secret surprise, Rubinstein, together with his co-adjutor Zaremba, professed great enthusiasm concerning him, and unceasingly urged him to enter the Conservatoire. This, at length, he, in the company of de Windt, tentatively did: taking his place in one of Zaremba's classes of composition, and undertaking the study of orchestration under Serov. Here Ivan showed himself phenomenally prolific in the production of exercises; and he grasped the difficult principles of composition in a remarkably short space of time. Unfortunately, however, formal work did not content him; and one day he carried to Rubinstein two or three eccentric little pieces, on which he had expended both energy and admiration. Here, at last, the great Anton found his opportunity. He whipped Ivan's work to rags with sarcastic criticism; leaving not one measure untouched by his caustic and rather brutal wit. Next day he received his young pupil's resignation from his classes; and the gay world regained its pet. For Ivan, in a fit of childish anger, left his work behind him, and plunged into a furious round of dissipations, of which gambling now formed the chief. Dawn after dawn saw him leaving the green tables of either the "Nobility" or the Yacht clubs; and, as if to applaud his defection, fate decreed that Ivan could not lose. Baccarat, roulette, piquet, even whist,—Ivan won at them all, till one drawer in his escritoire was stuffed full of lightly won notes.
The Countess Dravikine, it seemed, was highly pleased at her nephew's return to what she considered the only proper society for a member of her family. And it was probably through some communication of hers that, during the second week in April, Ivan was astonished at the receipt of a very good-humored letter from his father, containing much specious advice upon his conduct, together with the intelligence that, henceforth, his allowance should be doubled. At this time of his life, indeed, Ivan might have thrown money into the street by handsful and still have felt no want. But, as if to add mockery to the situation, this Ivan was the least extravagant of young men. His wants were singularly few; and the chief items in his expenditure consisted in the lending of money to his brother officers; all of whom eventually paid their debts.
There was one thing, one brief but delightful incident, indirectly brought about by Madame Dravikine, which Ivan had to cherish during the long months that ensued.
During the whole of this winter of her cousin's introduction to the great world, Mademoiselle Nathalie Alexeiovna had remained shut away from any possible encounter, in the Catherine Institute. As the spring advanced, however, Mademoiselle Nathalie's mother began to receive rather disturbing reports concerning the health of the young girl. She was neither eating nor sleeping; she looked pale and worn; and she lay on her bed during all the hours of recreation. So Madame la Comtesse finally sacrificed a charming luncheon and a musical, and went, one afternoon, to see her daughter for herself. The sight did not prove reassuring. Nathalie was certainly not well. And the outcome was that, upon the advice of a doctor, the young lady obtained one month's leave from her studies and returned home to amuse herself, agreeably, under the wing of her mother, in the house in the Serghievskaia.
In spite of these things, the details of home life proved less diverting than the young lady had hoped. To her, accustomed for so many years to a regular routine of life and the continual companionship of girls of her own age, the fashionable mode of existence in her father's house was confusing and unpleasant. Her slight illness did not confine her to her room. On the contrary, the doctors had prescribed much open-air exercise, together with early hours. These things not being in the least in her mother's line of occupations, Mademoiselle Nathalie was driven to her own resources, and to arrange some sort of programme for herself. Among the many serfs of the household there was one, Ekaterina Nicolaievna, who had been her nurse in infancy, and, since the departure of her demoiselle to the Institute, had become a kind of chargé d'affaires of the serfs' house. Thus the old woman was accustomed, quite on her own responsibility, to leave the house every morning, some hours before her ladyship was awake, and betake herself to the various markets to buy food for the serfs' quarters, stopping, on the way home, to say her prayers before Our Lady of Kazan, and regaining the Serghievskaia before the Countess had rung for the first time. These excursions, of which, as a matter of fact, her mother was ignorant, Nathalie now joined, and they soon became a delight to the young girl, who was still child enough to enjoy early morning rising. It was to her an excitement to find herself abroad in the quiet streets, to study the men and women hurrying to their work, to watch the quaint sights of the hour, listen to the hoarse cries of the innumerable basket-vendors, and stand by, half terrified, half ashamed, while old Ekaterina bargained and haggled and quarrelled over her regular purchases of fish, casha, buckwheat flour and kvass, which was never made in the Dravikine household, but bought by each servant for himself out of the inevitable "tea-money."
On a certain morning in April, a few days before Easter, all the street merchants were abroad unusually early, and in great numbers. Two days before there had been a thaw; but now the streets were a sheet of glittering ice, and walking was a precarious business. Nathalie and her companion, their day's buying over, had just finished their devotions: which the girl went through with a reverence quite as deep as that of the old woman. Emerging upon the Nevskiy Prospekt, they had gone but a few steps from the famous little chapel, when Nathalie felt a light touch upon her arm, and lifted her eyes to behold a slender figure, wrapped in a fur-lined military coat, bending before her. As his head was raised, the young girl gave a little cry, upon which her guardian seized her arm protectingly, glaring, the while, at the presumptuous one: