Kovsh

(Excerpt from the novel)

St. Petersburg, October 1912.

THOUSAND PRIVILEGED INVITEES closely follow the rhythmic
swirls of Emperor Nicholas II and Empress Alexandra Fyodorovna on the
polished mosaic parquet of the Winter Palace Ballroom, in St. Petersburg.
'Vlad, look at these huge chandeliers, like overturned mushrooms!
How many thousands of crystals sparkle in them?' Natalia Rubayev-
na whispers into her husband’s ear, stooping slightly on the side line
of the busy dance floor. She is here, in this ball room of the Hermit-
age for the first time.
'Yes, yes, my dear... thousands for sure... And on the stage, look,
the Mariinsky Ballet Orchestra, specially assembled for the occasion,'
reports Vladimir Sergeevich, pointing to a platform with lavish camel-
lia bouquets, surrounded by a canopy of thick brocade drapes.
A light waltz Я помню вальса звук прелестный 1) echoes. After
the first chords of the dance popular in halls all over Europe and, more
recently, in Petersburg, the imperial couple is joined by other digni-
taries. Counts and generals engage with their ladies in one whirl after
the other, all rank and tier. Decorations and medals shine and rattle
on starched uniforms. Silk ribbons flutter, garlanded flaps of festive
uniforms fly, lacquered shoes sparkle. The faces are serious, almost
frowning, as is proper for persons of such high rank, even if at such a
cheerful occasion. If their gaze traverses that of a superior officer or a
senior official of the court hierarchy, they whisper loudly: “Bonsoir!”
A mandatory, ever-so-slight but still detectable curtsy is hidden in the
gentle, waltz turn.
It is stylish to speak French. To subordinates they return a greeting
with an almost odious: Добри вечер 2) (in plain, almost vulgar Rus-
sian). A few waltzes later, and with numerous glasses of punch (and
more sips of водичкa 3) ) downed, their faces will relax, cheer up. They
will begin to think less about what they look like and whether their
sugar-tinged mustache is still neatly glued to their cheeks, and more
about what they would like to do to young women around them.
Wives in lavish toilets shaped by the virtuoso hands of Parisian
creators, glide on the parquet floor in three-fourths rhythm along their
partners. With each dance turn, they tilt their heads slightly to one side
and the other, observing which lady is wearing what kind of jewelry.
They display their status with diamond earrings, brilliant diamonds,
stunning bracelets and sensational necklaces. The intoxicating scents of
the most popular French perfumes made in Russia: the spicy “Krasnaya
Moscow” and the floral-woody “Bouquet de Catherine” blend in the
whirl. Summer waltzes alternate, flow from one to the other. Осенний
сон 4) follows after Отцвели уж давно хризантемы 5) . Sometimes, at the
end of a song, the generals stop and, with a deep, somewhat theatrical
inclination, exchange partners with neighboring dancers of the same
rank. At the beginning of the next track, their face is adorned with a
mysterious smile and a look directed vaguely towards the orchestra, the
emperor, or the surrounding players ... That smile seems to say, “Here,
see what I can do! I abducted the Colonel's woman.”
20-year-old Vladimir Sergeyevich joined the Imperial Cavalier-
Guard regiment (Кавалергардский полк) in 1867. Fifteen years later
he took the post of regimental aide-de-camp. Then he advanced to
become young emperor’s first assistant, who in 1894 parked himself
on the imperial throne. In 1902, Dyedov was promoted to the rank
of Major General and was appointed to the prestigious post of Com-
mander of the Imperial Cavalier-Guard Regiment.
VLADIMIR SERGEYEVICH DYEDOV does not dance. Due to
the pain in his back, he gets quickly tired of even watching dancers
on the floor, let alone joining them. Natalia Rubayevna knows this
and pities him, but chooses young adjutants and unmarried officers
to swirl with merrily in the cadence. She takes great care to be with
the dance partner in her husband’s sight at all times. Control is spon-
taneous and subtle, mutual. However, when the orchestra embarks on
the romantic Гори, гори, моя звезда 6) , she kindly asks young Nikita
Nikolaevich Samolyukov with whom she has just danced, to escort her
to her husband, just a few steps away. She will try to persuade him for
at least one dancing hug to her favorite tune. Nikita Nikolaevich is, of
recent, the general’s adjutant, a newcomer to the affairs of the court,
the Guard and the aristocracy of Petrograd. Surely, he will not mind
that I want to dance with my husband.
General Dyedov, of course, accepts Natalia's request. How could I
resist that endearing look and smile? He hands over his champagne glass
to the young assistant and wobbles to the parquet to sway through a few
awkward and rigid circles with his exuberant wife. Nikita stands buried
in the place where he handed over his dancing partner and waits for
the old man to return after a few moments, with a barely visible trace of
pain on his face. General won't complain, just wipe away tiny traces of
sweat from his shaved head with a silky, perfumed handkerchief.
Natalia and Nikita know that Vladimir Sergeyevich is hurting but
all three pretend everything is okay and continue to track the playful
couples in front of them. A waiter brings new glasses of iced cham-
pagne, and the best orchestra in the empire is conquering the hall with
new popular tunes of increasingly fast rhythm.
'Let's get to the serving table before the crowd rolls in!' Dyedov
suggests and turns around, followed by the woman and his assistant.
After the lively Дай, милый друг, на счастье руку 7) comes a quick and
agile song Ухарь-купец 8) . Almost a thousand cheerful guests, includ-
ing the Emperor and Empress somewhere in the middle of the crowd,
sing along the familiar, favorite song and hop around in the ballroom.
Gastronomy is displayed in the adjacent hall. Beside a long table,
covered with a glittering damask linen sheet, stands a thin, sultry
priest. His filthy and completely wrinkled, coal-black mantle is strik-
ing. He pays no attention to music and merriment and ignores the
help offered by servants. He clumsily stuffs profuse amounts of cold
pheasant pâté and goose liver soufflé into his porcelain plate. Greasy,
gray hair down to his shoulders, his frowzy beard reaches to his chest.
A thick gold chain hangs around his neck with a large, wooden cross
resting on his stomach. The monk’s appearance strikingly contrasts
the luxury and beauty of the playful court guests on the dance floor.
For long, Nikita can not peel his eyes off the odd figure.
It's the first time he's at a ball, at an aristocratic gathering whatso-
ever, and everything here amazes him. Dresses, epaulets, hairstyles,
jewelry, perfumes and gowns, many famous and more unknown
dignitaries, including of course Emperor Nicholas II himself and
Empress Alexandra. The dark clergyman is the exact opposite of the
whole setting, so the young officer thinks that it may be an intruder, a
bum that is here by mistake, or by some evil intent. How come no one
noticed him, prevented him from entering? Who is he and what is he
looking for here, among all this beauty?
Natalia noticed him also. She has ogled all thousand invitees and
will quiz tomorrow, over tea, all her friends about details: who wore
what kind of dress and jewelry, and who got on with whom. With gentle
disgust, she observes the monk, who lays down his stuffed plate aside,
toward the wall. She knows him well and is aware of how come he is here.
Dyedov acts as if he didn't notice the priest, but he also sees him
from the corner of his eye, and he knows him well, personally. He sees
the astonished expression and stiff movement of his young aide. With
a gentle movement of his elbow, he pushes Nikita to take his eyes off
the black figure and to move toward the food.
Not far from the corner where the black monk is standing there
are a dozen long tables set with mounts of delicious food. There are
also larger, sitting tables nearby. The Imperial family traditionally
holds French chefs on the court and for such occasions the guests are
offered top entrées, dishes and deserts. The serving plates are packed
with specialties such as horseradish pork, fattened roosters, piroshky,
long-nose sturgeon in champagne ... The guests are expected to storm
these tables as the first part of the dancing evening draws to a close.
Some hungry dancers are already scouting, lines are beginning to form.
Elegant guests carry their plates and silverware, while helpful waiters
explain what each bowl contains and help with serving and pouring.
Having put in a plate what will quench first hunger, guests find a place
to sit and eat. For the slightly less formal occasion tonight, places are not
marked, so anyone can sit without protocol wherever they want, even
_________________________
1) “I remember the lovely sound of waltz” – a popular ballroom piece; begin-
ning of the XX on the Russian court
2) “Good evening” – in Russian
3) “vodka” – in Russian
4) “Autumn dream” – popular song of the period
5) “The long-gone chrysanthemums” – popular song of the period
6) “Burn, burn my star” – popular song of the period
7) “Shake hands, dear friend, for good luck” – popular song of the period
8) “The Happy-go-lucky Merchant”– popular song of the period