And presently a strange sight met his gaze. In the very midst of the torch-lit crowd came a golden sledge, shaped like a swan. It was Zeneida's well-known sledge. In it was sitting the prima donna (wrapped in her costly sables, and literally covered with bouquets, the flowers of which were beginning to sparkle with the night frost), drawn by a team of eight—such a team as the Czar himself had never been drawn by, since it was composed of eight young noblemen, the cream of Russia's jeunesse dorée. On the coachman's box sat Chevalier Galban in person.
Prince Ghedimin, springing from his sledge, joined the procession. Among the crowd a man was pressing and forcing his way. In him the Prince recognized one of his wife's lackeys. Reaching Zeneida's sledge, the man handed up to Chevalier Galban an enormous bouquet of hyacinths, whispering a few words as he did so. The Chevalier, straightway standing up, called out with stentorian voice:
"Ho, ho, gentlemen! Noble team of teams! halt an instant! Look at this brilliant trophy! See these flowers with their diamond-set bouquet-holder—'With the expression of her admiration for our divine Zeneida—from Princess Ghedimin!'"
A thousand hurrahs resounded through the icy air, thickened for an instant with the breath from many vociferous lungs.
"Allons! forward, my noble steeds!" And the eight-in-hand proceeded on its way.
A young man was standing at the back of the sledge. As Zeneida leaned forward to take the flowers, he reached over her so that his face, bent downward, nearly touched hers. In such a position even a well-known face is hard to recognize. The man thus standing whispered to her:
"Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."
"I do not understand Latin," she answered. "Translate it into some other language for me."
And he at once, converting it into faultless hexameter, said, in their own tongue:
"Ever I fear the Russian, even when with gifts he comes."