University of Virginia Library

2. II.

We are in Kinesma, a small town on the Volga, between
Kostroma and Nijni-Novgorod. The time is about
the middle of the last century, and the month October.

There was trouble one day, in the palace of Prince
Alexis, of Kinesma. This edifice, with its massive white
walls, and its pyramidal roofs of green copper, stood
upon a gentle mound to the eastward of the town, overlooking
it, a broad stretch of the Volga, and the opposite
shore. On a similar hill, to the westward, stood the
church, glittering with its dozen bulging, golden domes.
These two establishments divided the sovereignty of
Kinesma between them. Prince Alexis owned the bodies
of the inhabitants, (with the exception of a few merchants
and tradesmen,) and the Archimandrite Sergius owned
their souls. But the shadow of the former stretched also
over other villages, far beyond the ring of the wooded horizon.
The number of his serfs was ten thousand, and his
rule over them was even less disputed than theirs over
their domestic animals.

The inhabitants of the place had noticed with dismay
that the slumber-flag had not been hoisted on the castle,
although it was half an hour after the usual time. So
rare a circumstance betokened sudden wrath or disaster,

on the part of Prince Alexis. Long experience had prepared
the people for anything that might happen, and
they were consequently not astonished at the singular
event which presently transpired.

The fact is, that in the first place, the dinner had been
prolonged full ten minutes beyond its accustomed limit,
owing to a discussion between the Prince, his wife, the
Princess Martha, and their son Prince Boris. The last
was to leave for St. Petersburg in a fortnight, and wished
to have his departure preceded by a festival at the castle.
The Princess Martha was always ready to second the desires
of her only child. Between the two they had
pressed some twenty or thirty thousand rubles out of the
old Prince, for the winter diversions of the young one.
The festival, to be sure, would have been a slight expenditure
for a noble of such immense wealth as Prince Alexis;
but he never liked his wife, and he took a stubborn
pleasure in thwarting her wishes. It was no satisfaction
that Boris resembled her in character. That weak successor
to the sovereignty of Kinesma preferred a game
of cards to a bear hunt, and could never drink more than
a quart of vodki without becoming dizzy and sick.

“Ugh!” Prince Alexis would cry, with a shudder of
disgust, “the whelp barks after the dam!”

A state dinner he might give; but a festival, with
dances, dramatic representations, burning tar-barrels, and
cannon,—no! He knitted his heavy brows and drank
deeply, and his fiery gray eyes shot such incessant glances
from side to side that Boris and the Princess Martha

could not exchange a single wink of silent advice. The
pet bear, Mishka, plied with strong wines, which Prince
Alexis poured out for him into a golden basin, became at
last comically drunk, and in endeavoring to execute a
dance, lost his balance, and fell at full length on his back.

The Prince burst into a yelling, shrieking fit of laughter.
Instantly the yellow-haired serfs in waiting, the Calmucks
at the hall-door, and the half-witted dwarf who
crawled around the table in his tow shirt, began laughing
in chorus, as violently as they could. The Princess Martha
and Prince Boris laughed also; and while the old
man's eyes were dimmed with streaming tears of mirth,
quickly exchanged nods. The sound extended all over
the castle, and was heard outside of the walls.

“Father!” said Boris, “let us have the festival, and
Mishka shall perform again. Prince Paul of Kostroma
would strangle, if he could see him.”

“Good, by St. Vladimir!” exclaimed Prince Alexis.
“Thou shalt have it, my Borka![1] Where's Simon Petrovitch?
May the Devil scorch that vagabond, if he
doesn't do better than the last time! Sasha!”

A broad-shouldered serf stepped forward and stood
with bowed head.

“Lock up Simon Petrovitch in the southwestern
tower. Send the tailor and the girls to him, to learn
their parts. Search every one of them before they go in,
and if any one dares to carry vodki to the beast, twenty-five
lashes on the back!”

Sasha bowed again and departed. Simon Petrovitch
was the court-poet of Kinesma. He had a mechanical
knack of preparing allegorical diversions which suited
the conventional taste of society at that time; but he had
also a failing,—he was rarely sober enough to write.
Prince Alexis, therefore, was in the habit of locking him
up and placing a guard over him, until the inspiration
had done its work. The most comely young serfs of both
sexes were selected to perform the parts, and the court-tailor
arranged for them the appropriate dresses. It depended
very much upon accident—that is to say, the mood
of Prince Alexis—whether Simon Petrovitch was rewarded
with stripes or rubles.

The matter thus settled, the Prince rose from the
table and walked out upon an overhanging balcony,
where an immense reclining arm-chair of stuffed leather
was ready for his siesta. He preferred this indulgence in
the open air; and although the weather was rapidly growing
cold, a pelisse of sables enabled him to slumber
sweetly in the face of the north wind. An attendant
stood with the pelisse outspread; another held the halyards
to which was attached the great red slumber-flag,
ready to run it up and announce to all Kinesma that the
noises of the town must cease; a few seconds more, and
all things would have been fixed in their regular daily
courses. The Prince, in fact, was just straightening his
shoulders to receive the sables; his eyelids were dropping,
and his eyes, sinking mechanically with them, fell
upon the river-road, at the foot of the hill. Along this

road walked a man, wearing the long cloth caftan of a
merchant.

Prince Alexis started, and all slumber vanished out
of his eyes. He leaned forward for a moment, with a
quick, eager expression; then a loud roar, like that of
an enraged wild beast, burst from his mouth. He gave a
stamp that shook the balcony.

“Dog!” he cried to the trembling attendent, “my
cap! my whip!”

The sables fell upon the floor, the cap and whip appeared
in a twinkling, and the red slumber-flag was folded
up again for the first time in several years, as the Prince
stormed out of the castle. The traveller below had heard
the cry,—for it might have been heard half a mile. He
seemed to have a presentiment of evil, for he had already
set off towards the town at full speed.

To explain the occurrence, we must mention one of
the Prince's many peculiar habits. This was, to invite
strangers or merchants of the neighborhood to dine with
him, and, after regaling them bountifully, to take his pay
in subjecting them to all sorts of outrageous tricks, with
the help of his band of willing domestics. Now this particular
merchant had been invited, and had attended;
but, being a very wide-awake, shrewd person, he saw
what was coming, and dexterously slipped away from the
banquet without being perceived. The Prince vowed
vengeance, on discovering the escape, and he was not a
man to forget his word.

Impelled by such opposite passions, both parties ran

with astonishing speed. The merchant was the taller,
but his long caftan, hastily ungirdled, swung behind him
and dragged in the air. The short, booted legs of the
Prince beat quicker time, and he grasped his short,
heavy, leathern whip more tightly as he saw the space
diminishing. They dashed into the town of Kinesma a
hundred yards apart. The merchant entered the main
street, or bazaar, looking rapidly to right and left, as he
ran, in the hope of espying some place of refuge. The
terrible voice behind him cried,—

“Stop, scoundrel! I have a crow to pick with you!”

And the tradesmen in their shops looked on and
laughed, as well they might, being unconcerned spectators
of the fun. The fugitive, therefore, kept straight on,
notwithstanding a pond of water glittered across the
farther end of the street.

Although Prince Alexis had gained considerably in
the race, such violent exercise, after a heavy dinner, deprived
him of breath. He again cried,—

“Stop!”

“But the merchant answered,—

“No, Highness! You may come to me, but I will
not go to you.”

“Oh, the villian!” growled the Prince, in a hoarse
whisper, for he had no more voice.

The pond cut of all further pursuit. Hastily kicking
off his loose boots, the merchant plunged into the water,
rather than encounter the princely whip, which already
began to crack and snap in fierce anticipation. Prince

Alexis kicked off his boots and followed; the pond gradually
deepened, and in a minute the tall merchant stood
up to his chin in the icy water, and his short pursuer likewise
but out of striking distance. The latter coaxed and
entreated, but the victim kept his ground.

“You lie, Highness!” he said, boldly. “If you want
me, come to me.”

“Ah-h-h!” roared the Prince, with chattering teeth,
“what a stubborn rascal you are! Come here, and I
give you my word that I will not hurt you. Nay,”—seeing
that the man did not move,—“you shall dine with
me as often as you please. You shall be my friend; by
St. Vladimir, I like you!”

“Make the sign of the cross, and swear it by all the
Saints,” said the merchant, composedly.

With a grim smile on his face, the Prince stepped
back and shiveringly obeyed. Both then waded out, sat
down upon the ground and pulled on their boots; and
presently the people of Kinesma beheld the dripping pair
walking side by side up the street, conversing in the most
cordial manner. The merchant dried his clothes from
within, at the castle table; a fresh keg of old Cognac was
opened; and although the slumber-flag was not unfurled
that afternoon, it flew from the staff and hushed the town
nearly all the next day.