The Green Book Part 78

The smartness consisted in the old lady's having her new cap--fashioned in 1807--brought to her with its large yellow ostrich feather. This she duly put on, and with it her two false curls. Her hair was white, the curls black.

A full hour went slowly by.

"What a long time the child is finding the cards! She will be changing her dress, taking off her grand ball-dress, and slipping into a cotton morning-wrapper. Wait a minute; it will be such fun. How it will make her laugh! I will sing the Matrimonial Ditty. It is really very pretty.

Bring me my guitar, Ihnasko. Ah, how well I used to play it!"

And the good matron took the ancient instrument, and, encouraged by her previous success, set about amusing her little nest-bird with a cheery old song--he sitting there, the drops of cold perspiration on his brow.

"Listen--

"'It is a good wife's part To honor and obey, In gossiping and dress Time ne'er to pa.s.s away.

By daybreak she is up, His breakfast to prepare; Then a good roast and wine With him at noon to share.'

Isn't it pretty? This is the second verse:

"'A husband's part it is With her wishes to comply, And whatsoe'er she ask In no case to deny.

Through fire itself to go, If but her hand to kiss, And ever to be slow To mark what's done amiss.'

Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the good old grandmother, in praise of her own merry ditty, and quite disposed, had Ivan expressed but the slightest word of entreaty, to repeat it for his benefit. "I only hope your little wife will soon come back to hear it."

But Ivan was no longer paying attention to her--a sound was audible from without. There had been time for Korynthia to have gone to Zeneida's and to have returned. He hurriedly opened the door.

But it was not the expected Korynthia who entered, but one whom of all others he desired least to meet with in this sublunary world--Galban.

The Chevalier was not alone; four grenadiers of the Finnish regiment stood behind him.

The Chevalier, without taking off his hat in presence of the lady of the house, or in any way saluting her into whose apartment he was thus forcing an entrance, exclaimed:

"Ivan Maximovitch Ghedimin, you are my prisoner! Surrender your sword!"

Without a word, Ivan, unbuckling his sword, handed it to him.

Anna Feodorovna was furious.

"What does this fellow mean by breaking into my apartment and presuming to take away my grandson's sword, the sword of a Duke Ghedimin? Who is this gentleman?"

"Who I am, madame, it is absolutely unnecessary for you to know; but I will tell you who your grandson is. He is the _Dictator of yonder mutinous rebels_ who attempted to murder the Czar and have been defeated."

"Ihnasko! Ihnasko!" shrieked the matron, "come here, and laugh instead of me! I cannot; help me to laugh. Look at this carnival buffoon who is performing here. He says that my nest-bird is the Dictator of the rebels! Where have you crept to? Laugh--laugh!"

Ivan said in a low voice, and in French, to Galban, "I can exculpate myself to the Czar. There is no proof against me."

"How about 'the green book?'"

"I know nothing of it."

"Do not build up vain hopes, Ivan Maximovitch! You are thoroughly undone. Your wife has betrayed you. No sooner did you give over into her hands a certain key which, as you are aware, opens a certain roulette-bank at Fraulein Zeneida's than she went directly to the President of Police and placed that key in his hands. 'The green book'

is now in good keeping."

Ghedimin felt his knees totter at these words, as though the stars had fallen from the skies upon his head. His head sank upon his breast.

Horror so illimitable numbed his power of thought. The next moment, however, the blood within him took fire; he trembled with rage and indignation.

"No, no! It is impossible that a woman should betray her own husband, and sacrifice her honor, her means, by so doing! Such a monster the world has never known! Nor have I ever committed such grave sins as to demand such sore punishment at G.o.d's hands!"

"You have a short memory, Ivan Maximovitch," whispered Galban in his ear. "Remember the night on which you conveyed to Korynthia the news of Sophie Narishkin's death, and with it the news of Bethsaba's flight with Pushkin. Did you not know that Sophie Narishkin was her daughter, and that even then she was awaiting Pushkin and not you?"

This disclosure was a heavier blow to Ghedimin than even his disgrace.

With rigid, wide-open mouth he gasped for breath; his hands convulsively grasped at some invisible phantom, his heart was nigh to bursting.

"But do not disturb yourself with jealousy, either on account of Pushkin or of your wife. Pushkin will have a ball through his head when and wherever he is found. Your wife will receive back her wealth and rank, and husband also, in compensation. You will perform your little walk to the scaffold; but your fine possessions and t.i.tles--most probably your wife into the bargain--will be inherited by one who knows better how to value them than you have done--possibly by Chevalier Galban!"

At these words Ivan's arms sank helplessly to his side. He saw and heard no further. Chevalier Galban's next duty was to finish the condemned man's "toilet."

First he tore the orders from his breast, then the epaulettes from his shoulders; finally cut off every regimental b.u.t.ton bearing the imperial arms.

The grandmother did not understand the subject of their talk, but when she saw her grandson being stripped of every vestige of his military and civil rank, and of all his orders, she found herself endowed with strength, if not to rush to his a.s.sistance, still to rise from her chair, and, supporting herself by the table, to cry to the audacious intruders:

"You murderer! G.o.dless man! how dare you a.s.sail my grandson? Stop!

Insult him no further. Your accusations are lies! I will go myself to the Czar; he will hear me. He has ever been gracious to me. Ihnasko, give me my mantle; I will go myself to the Czar! Leave off your mutilations, you executioner! You shall not put a convict's dress upon my grandson, my Ivan! A convict's dress! Before my very eyes! You varlets! And cut off his hair! Where is the Czar? I will go to the Czar--to Czar Alexander, to implore mercy!"

Her strength of will worked miracles. Her infirm, paralyzed body seemed to be galvanized into life like a walking ghost. She succeeded in staggering up to where Galban stood, and seized his hands.

"To Czar Alexander," she breathed, "for pardon!"

"He has already gone to heaven," said the Chevalier, brutally.

"Then I will go after him," sighed the venerable lady, and fell where she stood. She had said truly.

She had gone after him--thither where even the Czars of All the Russias do not grant, but must entreat, pardon.

The last locks of hair were severed from the head of Ghedimin, no longer a prince. This is the tonsure of those condemned to death. He stood alone. He had no one to mourn his fate. The old servant, concealed behind the stove, sobbed uninterruptedly over the shameful operation.

Ivan was not even permitted to raise his dead grandmother from the ground. A condemned rebel has henceforth no family either among the living or the dead.

They fettered him hand and foot with the heavy iron fetters, of which the Counsellor of Enlightenment was wont to say, "Never you fear, you won't have to pay for them!" And, being an officer of high rank, he had received as distinction a heavy ball fastened to the end of his chain, which he was compelled to drag along at every step.

"Now, shoulder arms! The prisoner in the middle! Forward--march!"

But in the doorway their advance was hindered by some one with the words:

"In the name of the Czar!"

It was Zeneida Ilmarinen.

Chevalier Galban looked at her in astonishment.