And, as he dismounted in the centre of the court-yard, I entered the gateway unchallenged and passed along to the right, so that I almost faced him. Yet he did not see me—he was looking at the door and beyond it.
XXXVI: THE PRINCESS
THE light of a hundred torches filled the court-yard with a crimson glow, and shed broad and wavering flashes on the great solid building, with its grim look of strength and pride. On either side of the main entrance the serfs stood in double tiers, clad in white caftans banded with purple, and their wild, dark faces illumined by the streaming fire of the torches that they held aloft, fifty strong men on one side and fifty on the other; while farther off, in the corners of the great yard, and at the gateway, crowded men and women and even children, in every colour, from deep scarlet to pale pink, a living mass of creatures that served one lord, the thralls of the vast domain of this Russian prince, his slaves and his warriors. Above, the black smoke from the burning pine-knots hung heavily, and in the broad blaze of the fiery illumination below Prince Galitsyn had dismounted and advanced, slow and stately; magnificently robed, splendidly armed, the descendant of the Lithuanian monarchs looked every inch a prince and a king. Onward between the long lines of solemn, white-robed fire-bearers, and up the broad steps, he moved and I followed. In the confusion of the great throng I was unrecognised, and thought to be in his train. At the top of the steps he paused, and I looked beyond him into the lobby, lighted too by torches, and here, at the threshold, lay two great bears—skins, heads, and claws fairly intact—and stretched across the entrance from side to side, while in the centre of the lobby stood a table, which held a great silver salver, and on it was a silver image or oberis; before that the bread, and beside it a huge silver salt-cellar. A little behind this table stood Prince Voronin, and a young woman, whom I took to be his new wife, but I had eyes for neither, but only for the tall, slender, white-robed figure who stood at the table, looking directly toward us, her head lifted proudly, her dark eyes shining—the Princess Daria!
Galitsyn, too, saw no one but the princess. Obeying the custom of his people, he trod upon the heads of the bears and entered the lobby, and the princess, coming two steps forward, held out the bread and salt. Her hands were firm, and her round arms, but her face was pale—pale and luminous. He took the bread from her hands and broke it, and he tasted the salt, and the Prince Voronin, advancing, clasped him in a warm embrace. It was at this moment that Daria saw me. If she had been pale before, she now turned white to the lips, but swift as a thought she came to me, as I walked across the bears, and held out the bread and salt with hands that shook.
“Take it quickly!” she cried in a low tone; “eat it in the Virgin’s name!” and her voice quivered.
Not ignorant of the sacredness of the bond, I obeyed her, and as I did so, I heard Voronin’s deep tones.
“Who is there, Daria? I command you not to break bread with him!”
But she turned and looked at him, while I still held the hand that had given me the bread.
“He saved my life, O my father!” she said in a sweet, clear voice, “and he has tasted your bread and salt; surely then, he is your guest also, O excellency.”
And I felt her hand like ice.