The new etiquette was in force at the house of Mentchikof, and the women mingled freely with his guests. His sister, Madame Golovin, was near him when I entered, and greeted me with effusion, warmly seconding his cordiality. I saw at once that I was not only a welcome guest, but that they desired to win me over to their interests. Madame Golovin immediately presented me to Daria Arsenief, who, it was rumored, was soon to wed Mentchikof. Mademoiselle Arsenief was a handsome and clever woman, and I should doubtless have soon been interested in her conversation if I had not been more curious to observe the candidate for the czar’s favor, whom I had noticed, as soon as I entered, standing at the further end of the salon, surrounded by a little court of her own. She was of medium height, and finely formed, her figure being extremely graceful, her complexion beautiful, and her hair of a flaxen color. She had dark brows, and large bright dark eyes, and a charming mouth, which made her smile most winning. Youth and a certain vivacity of manner completed an attractive picture. I found myself immediately comparing her with Mademoiselle Zotof. Najine’s face was fair, intellectual, spiritual, with a charm of its own difficult to define, while Mademoiselle Shavronsky had the beauty of the flesh, the brilliant eye, the rosy cheek, the red-lipped mouth. It was impossible to imagine which would command the heart of the imperial lover. So full was my mind of all these speculations that Madame Golovin rallied me on my preoccupation, and I was at a loss for a suitable reply. However she laughed gayly.
“It is not difficult to understand you, M. le Maréchal,” she said, shaking her finger at me; “your mind has been following your eyes, but we cannot permit that. Catherine Shavronsky has already become too important a figure, and we poor mortals, Daria and I, cannot suffer her to draw all attention away from us.”
“And yet,” added Mademoiselle Arsenief, smiling, “we understand the temptation. Is she not beautiful, monsieur?”
“Very beautiful, mademoiselle,” I replied gallantly; “she might appear even more so alone, but by the side of two other beauties she cannot reign undisputed.”
Mademoiselle Arsenief made me a curtsy, but Madame Golovin caught at my words.
“‘Reign alone’!” she repeated; “ah, monsieur, you see it? She looks an empress, does she not?”
Here was a shaft shot fairly at the mark, and I felt an inclination to smile, but commanded my countenance and regarded madame with composure.
“Every beautiful woman is an empress of our hearts, madame,” I said with the tone of a courtier; and she bit her lip, a little chagrined, I thought, at the ease with which I had blunted the point of her remark.
“Monsieur desires to be presented, no doubt,” she said after a moment.
“Madame, it would give me much pleasure,” I replied; and at my words she turned and led the way down the long salon to the spot where Catherine was holding her court.