The Enchanted Wanderer and Other Stories

“What are we to do now, my fellow Orthodox?”

The gunsmiths replied:

“We are sensible of the sovereign’s gracious words, good sir, and can never forget that he relies on his people, but what we are to do in the present case we cannot say this minute, because the English nation is also not stupid, but even rather clever, and there is a lot of sense in their craftsmanship. To vie with them,” they said, “calls for reflection and God’s blessing. But you, if Your Honor trusts in us as the sovereign does, go on your way to the quiet Don, and leave us this flea as it is, in its case and in the tsar’s golden snuffbox. Have a good time on the Don, let the wounds heal that you received for the fatherland, and on your way back through Tula, stop and send for us: by that time, God willing, we’ll have come up with something.”

Platov was not entirely pleased that the Tula masters were asking for so much time and yet did not say clearly just what they hoped to bring off. He questioned them this way and that, and talked in all the manners of a wily Don Cossack, but the Tula men were no less wily than he, because they at once hit on such a scheme that there was even no hope of Platov’s believing them, and they wanted to carry out their bold fancy directly, and then give the flea back.

They said:

“We ourselves don’t know yet what we’re going to make, we’ll just trust in God, and maybe the tsar’s word won’t be disgraced on account of us.”

So Platov dodged mentally and the Tula men did likewise.

Platov dodged and dodged, then saw that he could not out-dodge the Tula men, gave them the snuffbox with the nymphosoria, and said:

“Well, no help for it, go on,” he said, “have it your way; I know how you are; well, anyhow, no help for it—I trust you, only see that you don’t go replacing the diamond, and don’t spoil the fine English workmanship, and don’t fuss too long, because I travel fast: before two weeks are up, I’ll be on my way back from the quiet Don to Petersburg—and then I’ll have to have something to show the sovereign.”

The gunsmiths fully reassured him:

“We will not spoil the fine workmanship,” they said, “and we will not replace the diamond, and two weeks are enough for us, and by the time you go back, you’ll have something to present worthy of the sovereign’s magnificence.”

But precisely what, they still did not say.

VI

Platov left Tula, and three of the gunsmiths, the most skillful of them, one of them cross-eyed, left-handed, with a birthmark on his cheek and the hair on his temples pulled out during his apprenticeship, bid farewell to their comrades and families, and, saying nothing to anyone, took their bags, put into them what eatables they needed, and disappeared from town.

The only thing people noticed was that they did not go out by the Moscow Gate, but in the opposite direction, towards Kiev, and it was thought that they were going to Kiev to venerate the saints resting there or to consult some of the living holy men, who are always to be found in Kiev in abundance.

But that was only a near truth, not the truth itself. Neither time nor space would allow the Tula masters to spend three weeks walking to Kiev, and then also manage to do work that would cover the English nation with shame. They might better have gone to pray in Moscow, which was only “twice sixty” miles away, and where there were not a few saints resting as well. While to Orel, in the opposite direction, it was the same “twice sixty,” and from Orel to Kiev a good three hundred miles more. Such a journey cannot be made quickly, and once it is made, one is not soon rested—the feet will be swolt and the hands will go on shaking for a long time.

Some even thought that the masters had boasted before Platov, and then, thinking better of it, had turned coward, and had now fled for good, carrying off the tsar’s golden snuffbox, and the diamond, and, in its case, the English steel flea that had caused them so much trouble.

However, this conjecture was also totally unfounded and unworthy of such skillful people, in whom the hope of our nation now rested.

VII