'What at?' repeated Sanin. 'Why, at our journey together.'
'What about it?' Polozov inquired again, dropping into his mouth one of the longitudinal sections into which an orange parts.
'It's so very strange. Yesterday I must confess I thought no more of you than of the Emperor of China, and to-day I'm driving with you to sell my estate to your wife, of whom, too, I have not the slightest idea.'
'Anything may happen,' responded Polozov. 'When you've lived a bit longer, you won't be surprised at anything. For instance, can you fancy me riding as an orderly officer? But I did, and the Grand Duke Mihail Pavlovitch gave the order, 'Trot! let him trot, that fat cornet! Trot now! Look sharp!'
Sanin scratched behind his ear.
'Tell me, please, Ippolit Sidorovitch, what is your wife like? What is her character? It's very necessary for me to know that, you see.'
'It was very well for him to shout, "Trot!"' Polozov went on with sudden vehemence, 'But me! how about me? I thought to myself, "You can take your honours and epaulettes—and leave me in peace!" But … you asked about my wife? What my wife is? A person like any one else. Don't wear your heart upon your sleeve with her—she doesn't like that. The great thing is to talk a lot to her … something for her to laugh at. Tell her about your love, or something … but make it more amusing, you know.'
'How more amusing?'
'Oh, you told me, you know, that you were in love, wanting to get married. Well, then, describe that.'
Sanin was offended. 'What do you find laughable in that?'
Polozov only rolled his eyes. The juice from the orange was trickling down his chin.
'Was it your wife sent you to Frankfort to shop for her?' asked Sanin after a short time.
'Yes, it was she.'
'What are the purchases?'
'Toys, of course.'
'Toys? have you any children?'
Polozov positively moved away from Sanin.
'That's likely! What do I want with children? Feminine fallals … finery. For the toilet.'
'Do you mean to say you understand such things?'
'To be sure I do.'
'But didn't you tell me you didn't interfere in any of your wife's affairs?'
'I don't in any other. But this … is no consequence. To pass the time—one may do it. And my wife has confidence in my taste. And I'm a first-rate hand at bargaining.'
Polozov began to speak by jerks; he was exhausted already. 'And is your wife very rich?'
'Rich; yes, rather! Only she keeps the most of it for herself.'
'But I expect you can't complain either?'
'Well, I'm her husband. I'm hardly likely not to get some benefit from it! And I'm of use to her. With me she can do just as she likes! I'm easy-going!'
Polozov wiped his face with a silk handkerchief and puffed painfully, as though to say, 'Have mercy on me; don't force me to utter another word. You see how hard it is for me.'
Sanin left him in peace, and again sank into meditation.
* * * * *
The hotel in Wiesbaden, before which the carriage stopped, was exactly like a palace. Bells were promptly set ringing in its inmost recesses; a fuss and bustle arose; men of good appearance in black frock-coats skipped out at the principal entrance; a door-keeper who was a blaze of gold opened the carriage doors with a flourish.
Like some triumphant general Polozov alighted and began to ascend a staircase strewn with rugs and smelling of agreeable perfumes. To him flew up another man, also very well dressed but with a Russian face—his valet. Polozov observed to him that for the future he should always take him everywhere with him, for the night before at Frankfort, he, Polozov, had been left for the night without hot water! The valet portrayed his horror on his face, and bending down quickly, took off his master's goloshes.
'Is Maria Nikolaevna at home?' inquired Polozov.
'Yes, sir. Madam is pleased to be dressing. Madam is pleased to be dining to-night at the Countess Lasunsky's.'
'Ah! there?… Stay! There are things there in the carriage; get them all yourself and bring them up. And you, Dmitri Pavlovitch,' added Polozov, 'take a room for yourself and come in in three-quarters of an hour. We will dine together.'
Polozov waddled off, while Sanin asked for an inexpensive room for himself; and after setting his attire to rights, and resting a little, he repaired to the immense apartment occupied by his Serenity (Durchlaucht) Prince von Polozov.
He found this 'prince' enthroned in a luxurious velvet arm-chair in the middle of a most magnificent drawing-room. Sanin's phlegmatic friend had already had time to have a bath and to array himself in a most sumptuous satin dressing-gown; he had put a crimson fez on his head. Sanin approached him and scrutinised him for some time. Polozov was sitting rigid as an idol; he did not even turn his face in his direction, did not even move an eyebrow, did not utter a sound. It was truly a sublime spectacle! After having admired him for a couple of minutes, Sanin was on the point of speaking, of breaking this hallowed silence, when suddenly the door from the next room was thrown open, and in the doorway appeared a young and beautiful lady in a white silk dress trimmed with black lace, and with diamonds on her arms and neck—Maria Nikolaevna Polozov. Her thick fair hair fell on both sides of her head, braided, but not fastened up into a knot.
XXXIV
'Ah, I beg your pardon!' she said with a smile half-embarrassed, half-ironical, instantly taking hold of one end of a plait of her hair and fastening on Sanin her large, grey, clear eyes.
'I did not think you had come yet.'
'Sanin, Dmitri Pavlovitch—known him from a boy,' observed Polozov, as before not turning towards him and not getting up, but pointing at him with one finger.
'Yes…. I know…. You told me before. Very glad to make your acquaintance. But I wanted to ask you, Ippolit Sidorovitch…. My maid seems to have lost her senses to-day …'
'To do your hair up?'
'Yes, yes, please. I beg your pardon,' Maria Nikolaevna repeated with the same smile. She nodded to Sanin, and turning swiftly, vanished through the doorway, leaving behind her a fleeting but graceful impression of a charming neck, exquisite shoulders, an exquisite figure.
Polozov got up, and rolling ponderously, went out by the same door.
Sanin did not doubt for a single second that his presence in 'Prince Polozov's' drawing-room was a fact perfectly well known to its mistress; the whole point of her entry had been the display of her hair, which was certainly beautiful. Sanin was inwardly delighted indeed at this freak on the part of Madame Polozov; if, he thought, she is anxious to impress me, to dazzle me, perhaps, who knows, she will be accommodating about the price of the estate. His heart was so full of Gemma that all other women had absolutely no significance for him; he hardly noticed them; and this time he went no further than thinking, 'Yes, it was the truth they told me; that lady's really magnificent to look at!'
But had he not been in such an exceptional state of mind he would most likely have expressed himself differently; Maria Nikolaevna Polozov, by birth Kolishkin, was a very striking personality. And not that she was of a beauty to which no exception could be taken; traces of her plebeian origin were rather clearly apparent in her. Her forehead was low, her nose rather fleshy and turned up; she could boast neither of the delicacy of her skin nor of the elegance of her hands and feet—but what did all that matter? Any one meeting her would not, to use Pushkin's words, have stood still before 'the holy shrine of beauty,' but before the sorcery of a half-Russian, half-Gipsy woman's body in its full flower and full power … and he would have been nothing loath to stand still!
But Gemma's image preserved Sanin like the three-fold armour of which the poets sing.