Novels, Tales, Journeys

Gavrila Afanasyevich hastily got up from the table; everybody rushed to the windows and indeed saw the sovereign, who was going up the front steps leaning on his orderly’s shoulder. A commotion ensued. The host rushed to meet Peter; the servants scattered in all directions like lunatics; the guests were frightened, some even thought of heading for home as quickly as possible. Suddenly Peter’s booming voice was heard in the front hall, everything fell silent, and the tsar entered accompanied by the host, dumbstruck with joy.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen!” Peter said with a cheerful look. They all bowed deeply. The tsar’s quick glance sought out the host’s young daughter in the crowd; he called her to him. Natalya Gavrilovna approached quite boldly, but blushing not only to the ears, but down to the shoulders. “You get prettier by the hour,” the sovereign said to her and, as was his custom, kissed her on the head; then, turning to the guests: “Well, so? I’ve disturbed you. You were having dinner. I beg you to sit down again, and you, Gavrila Afanasyevich, give me some anise vodka.”

The host rushed to the majestic butler, snatched the tray out of his hands, filled a little gold goblet himself, and offered it to the sovereign with a bow. Peter, having drunk it, took a bite from a pretzel, and again invited the guests to go on with dinner. They all took their former places, except for the dwarf and the housekeeper, who did not dare to remain at a table honored by the tsar’s presence. Peter sat down beside the host and asked for cabbage soup. His orderly served him a wooden spoon set with ivory, and a knife and fork with green bone handles, for Peter never used any utensils but his own. The dinner, noisily animated a moment before with merriment and garrulity, went on in silence and constraint. The host, out of deference and joy, ate nothing; the guests also became decorous and listened with reverence as the sovereign talked with the captive Swede about the campaign of 1701. The fool Ekimovna, whom the sovereign questioned a few times, answered with a sort of timid coldness, which (I note in passing) by no means proved her innate stupidity.

Finally the dinner came to an end. The sovereign stood up, and all the guests after him. “Gavrila Afanasyevich,” he said to the host, “I must talk with you alone.” And taking him by the arm, he led him to the drawing room and shut the door behind them. The guests remained in the dining room, exchanging whispers about this unexpected visit, and, for fear of being indelicate, soon departed one by one, without thanking the host for his hospitality. His father-in-law, daughter, and sister quietly saw them to the porch and remained in the dining room, waiting for the sovereign to come out.

CHAPTER FIVE

I shall find a wife for thee,

Or a miller I’ll ne’er be.

ABLESIMOV, FROM THE OPERA The Miller24

Half an hour later the door opened and Peter came out. Gravely inclining his head in response to the threefold bow of Prince Lykov, Tatyana Afanasyevna, and Natasha, he walked straight to the front hall. The host held his red fleece-lined coat for him, saw him to the sledge, and on the porch thanked him again for the honor bestowed on him. Peter drove off.

Returning to the dining room, Gavrila Afanasyevich seemed very preoccupied. He angrily ordered the servants to clear the table at once, sent Natasha to her room, and, announcing to his sister and father-in-law that he had to talk to them, led them to his bedroom, where he usually rested after dinner. The old prince lay down on the oak bed; Tatyana Afanasyevna sat in an old-fashioned damask armchair, moving a footstool closer; Gavrila Afanasyevich shut all the doors, sat on the bed at Prince Lykov’s feet, and in a low voice began the following conversation:

“It was not for nothing that the sovereign visited me today. Can you guess what he was pleased to talk with me about?”

“How can we know, brother dear?” said Tatyana Afanasyevna.

“Can the tsar have appointed you governor-general somewhere?” asked the father-in-law. “It’s none too soon. Or has he offered you an ambassadorship? Why not? Noblemen, and not just scribes, are sent to foreign rulers.”

“No,” his son-in-law replied, frowning. “I’m a man of the old stamp, our services are no longer required, though an Orthodox Russian nobleman may well be worth all these present-day upstarts, pancake makers, and heathens25—but that’s another subject.”

“What was it, then, that he was pleased to talk with you about for so long?” asked Tatyana Afanasyevna. “You’re not in some sort of trouble, are you? Lord, save us and have mercy on us!”

“Trouble or no trouble, I must confess it set me thinking.”

“What is it, brother? What’s the matter?”

“It’s a matter of Natasha: the tsar came to make a match for her.”