Taking these last words as a slight lifting of the veil of mystery that hung over the countess’s illness, one rather impetuous young man felt emboldened to voice surprise that the best-known doctors hadn’t been called in, and the countess was being looked after by some quack, who might be giving her dangerous medicine.
‘Well, you’re better informed than I am!’ cried Anna Pavlovna, rounding on the callow young man with sudden viciousness. ‘But I have it on the best authority that this doctor is a very learned and skilful man. He is private physician to the Queen of Spain.’
And leaving the young man annihilated, Anna Pavlovna turned to Bilibin, who was talking about the Austrians over in a different group, with his forehead all puckered up and ready to relax in the delivery of some
‘I thought it was rather charming!’ He was talking about a diplomatic note that had gone to Vienna along with the Austrian banners captured by Wittgenstein, ‘the hero of Petropolis’, as they called him in Petersburg.
‘What is? What do you mean?’ Anna Pavlovna inquired, thus creating a silence for the
And Bilibin repeated the precise wording of the diplomatic dispatch that he had composed.
‘The Emperor returns the Austrian flags,’ said Bilibin, ‘friendly banners gone astray, found by him along the way,’ Bilibin concluded, relaxing his wrinkles.
‘Charming, charming!’ commented Prince Vasily.
‘I suppose you mean the way to Warsaw,’ said Prince Hippolyte in a very loud voice, much to everyone’s surprise. All eyes turned to him; no one knew what he meant. Prince Hippolyte stared around as well in breezy bemusement. He had no more idea than anyone else what his words were supposed to mean. He had often noticed in his career as a diplomat that an off-the-cuff remark like that was considered very witty, so he had blurted out the first words that came into his head, just in case. ‘It might come out all right,’ he had thought, ‘and if it doesn’t they’ll know what to do with it.’ As it happened the awkward silence that ensued was broken by the arrival of the inadequately patriotic person Anna Pavlovna was wanting to tackle, so she smiled, wagged her finger at Prince Hippolyte, called Prince Vasily over to the table, set him up with two candles and a manuscript, and asked him to start. There was a general hush.
‘Most gracious sovereign Emperor!’ thundered Prince Vasily with a dark glare at the audience as if inviting anyone to challenge him. But nobody said a word. ‘Moscow, our ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives
Bilibin was examining his nails very closely, and many in the audience shrank back visibly, as if wondering whether they might have done something wrong. Anna Pavlovna was mouthing the words in advance, as old women whisper the next prayer in the communion service. ‘Let the flagrant and brazen Goliath . . .’ she whispered.
Prince Vasily continued:
‘Let the flagrant and brazen Goliath who comes from the borders of France visit upon the realm of Russia all the horrors of death. Our humble faith, the sling of the Russian David, shall send a swift blow to the head of his pride that so thirsteth for blood. This icon of the venerable Saint Sergiy, in ancient times a jealous champion of our country’s weal, is hereby borne to your Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my failing powers prevent me from rejoicing in the sight of your most gracious countenance. I offer up to Heaven my most fervent prayers, that the Almighty may in His mercy exalt the generation of the righteous and fulfil the hopes of your Majesty . . .’
‘Such power! And what a delivery!’ came various voices praising reader and author alike. Newly inspired by this rousing appeal, Anna Pavlovna’s guests stayed on for some time discussing the country’s present situation, and there was a variety of opinions as to how the battle that must be fought any day now would turn out.
‘You will see,’ said Anna Pavlovna. ‘Tomorrow is the Emperor’s birthday, and we shall hear something. I have a funny feeling it will be something good.’
CHAPTER 2
