“SIRE, a fresh dispatch.”
“Whence?”
“From Tomsk?”
“Is the wire cut beyond that city?”
“Yes, sire, since yesterday.”
“Telegraph hourly to Tomsk, General, and keep me informed of all that occurs.”
“Sire, it shall be done,” answered General Kissoff.
These words were exchanged about two hours after midnight, at the moment when the fete given at the New Palace was at the height of its splendor1.
During the whole evening the bands of the Preobra-jensky and Paulowsky regiments2 had played without cessation polkas, mazurkas, schottisches, and waltzes from among the choicest of their repertoires3. Innumerable couples of dancers whirled through the magnificent saloons of the palace, which stood at a few paces only from the “old house of stones”— in former days the scene of so many terrible dramas, the echoes of whose walls were this night awakened4 by the gay strains of the musicians.
The grand-chamberlain of the court, was, besides, well seconded in his arduous5 and delicate duties. The grand-dukes and their aides-de-camp, the chamberlains-in-waiting and other officers of the palace, presided personally in the arrangement of the dances. The grand duchesses, covered with diamonds, the ladies-in-waiting in their most exquisite6 costumes, set the example to the wives of the military and civil dignitaries of the ancient “city of white stone.” When, therefore, the signal for the “polonaise” resounded7 through the saloons, and the guests of all ranks took part in that measured promenade8, which on occasions of this kind has all the importance of a national dance, the mingled9 costumes, the sweeping10 robes adorned12 with lace, and uniforms covered with orders, presented a scene of dazzling splendor, lighted by hundreds of lusters13 multiplied tenfold by the numerous mirrors adorning14 the walls.
The grand saloon, the finest of all those contained in the New Palace, formed to this procession of exalted15 personages and splendidly dressed women a frame worthy16 of the magnificence they displayed. The rich ceiling, with its gilding17 already softened18 by the touch of time, appeared as if glittering with stars. The embroidered19 drapery of the curtains and doors, falling in gorgeous folds, assumed rich and varied20 hues21, broken by the shadows of the heavy masses of damask.
Through the panes22 of the vast semicircular bay-windows the light, with which the saloons were filled, shone forth23 with the brilliancy of a conflagration24, vividly25 illuminating26 the gloom in which for some hours the palace had been shrouded27. The attention of those of the guests not taking part in the dancing was attracted by the contrast. Resting in the recesses28 of the windows, they could discern, standing29 out dimly in the darkness, the vague outlines of the countless30 towers, domes31, and spires32 which adorn11 the ancient city. Below the sculptured balconies were visible numerous sentries33, pacing silently up and down, their rifles carried horizontally on the shoulder, and the spikes34 of their helmets glittering like flames in the glare of light issuing from the palace. The steps also of the patrols could be heard beating time on the stones beneath with even more regularity35 than the feet of the dancers on the floor of the saloon. From time to time the watchword was repeated from post to post, and occasionally the notes of a trumpet36, mingling37 with the strains of the orchestra, penetrated38 into their midst. Still farther down, in front of the facade39, dark masses obscured the rays of light which proceeded from the windows of the New Palace. These were boats descending40 the course of a river, whose waters, faintly illumined by a few lamps, washed the lower portion of the terraces.
The principal personage who has been mentioned, the giver of the fete, and to whom General Kissoff had been speaking in that tone of respect with which sovereigns alone are usually addressed, wore the simple uniform of an officer of chasseurs of the guard. This was not affectation on his part, but the custom of a man who cared little for dress, his contrasting strongly with the gorgeous costumes amid which he moved, encircled by his escort of Georgians, Cossacks, and Circassians — a brilliant band, splendidly clad in the glittering uniforms of the Caucasus.
This personage, of lofty stature41, affable demeanor42, and physiognomy calm, though bearing traces of anxiety, moved from group to group, seldom speaking, and appearing to pay but little attention either to the merriment of the younger guests or the graver remarks of the exalted dignitaries or members of the diplomatic corps43 who represented at the Russian court the principal governments of Europe. Two or three of these astute44 politicians — physiognomists by virtue45 of their profession — failed not to detect on the countenance46 of their host symptoms of disquietude, the source of which eluded47 their penetration48; but none ventured to interrogate49 him on the subject.
It was evidently the intention of the officer of chasseurs that his own anxieties should in no way cast a shade over the festivities; and, as he was a personage whom almost the population of a world in itself was wont50 to obey, the gayety of the ball was not for a moment checked.
Nevertheless, General Kissoff waited until the officer to whom he had just communicated the dispatch forwarded from Tomsk should give him permission to withdraw; but the latter still remained silent. He had taken the telegram, he had read it carefully, and his visage became even more clouded than before. Involuntarily he sought the hilt of his sword, and then passed his hand for an instant before his eyes, as though, dazzled by the brilliancy of the light, he wished to shade them, the better to see into the recesses of his own mind.
“We are, then,” he continued, after having drawn51 General Kissoff aside towards a window, “since yesterday without intelligence from the Grand Duke?”
“Without any, sire; and it is to be feared that in a short time dispatches will no longer cross the Siberian frontier.”
“But have not the troops of the provinces of Amoor and Irkutsk, as those also of the Trans-Balkan territory, received orders to march immediately upon Irkutsk?”
“The orders were transmitted by the last telegram we were able to send beyond Lake Baikal.”
“And the governments of Yeniseisk, Omsk, Semipolatinsk, and Tobolsk — are we still in direct communication with them as before the insurrection?”
“Yes, sire; our dispatches have reached them, and we are assured at the present moment that the Tartars have not advanced beyond the Irtish and the Obi.”
“And the traitor52 Ivan Ogareff, are there no tidings of him?”
“None,” replied General Kissoff. “The head of the police cannot state whether or not he has crossed the frontier.”
“Let a description of him be immediately dispatched to Nijni-Novgorod, Perm, Ekaterenburg, Kasirnov, Tioumen, Ishim, Omsk, Tomsk, and to all the telegraphic stations with which communication is yet open.”
“Your majesty’s orders shall be instantly carried out.”
“You will observe the strictest silence as to this.”
The General, having made a sign of respectful assent53, bowing low, mingled with the crowd, and finally left the apartments without his departure being remarked.
The officer remained absorbed in thought for a few moments, when, recovering himself, he went among the various groups in the saloon, his countenance reassuming that calm aspect which had for an instant been disturbed.
Nevertheless, the important occurrence which had occasioned these rapidly exchanged words was not so unknown as the officer of the chasseurs of the guard and General Kissoff had possibly supposed. It was not spoken of officially, it is true, nor even officiously, since tongues were not free; but a few exalted personages had been informed, more or less exactly, of the events which had taken place beyond the frontier. At any rate, that which was only slightly known, that which was not matter of conversation even between members of the corps diplomatique, two guests, distinguished54 by no uniform, no decoration, at this reception in the New Palace, discussed in a low voice, and with apparently55 very correct information.
By what means, by the exercise of what acuteness had these two ordinary mortals ascertained56 that which so many persons of the highest rank and importance scarcely even suspected? It is impossible to say. Had they the gifts of foreknowledge and foresight57? Did they possess a supplementary58 sense, which enabled them to see beyond that limited horizon which bounds all human gaze? Had they obtained a peculiar59 power of divining the most secret events? Was it owing to the habit, now become a second nature, of living on information, that their mental constitution had thus become really transformed? It was difficult to escape from this conclusion.
Of these two men, the one was English, the other French; both were tall and thin, but the latter was sallow as are the southern Provencals, while the former was ruddy like a Lancashire gentleman. The Anglo-Norman, formal, cold, grave, parsimonious60 of gestures and words, appeared only to speak or gesticulate under the influence of a spring operating at regular intervals61. The Gaul, on the contrary, lively and petulant62, expressed himself with lips, eyes, hands, all at once, having twenty different ways of explaining his thoughts, whereas his interlocutor seemed to have only one, immutably63 stereotyped64 on his brain.
The strong contrast they presented would at once have struck the most superficial observer; but a physiognomist, regarding them closely, would have defined their particular characteristics by saying, that if the Frenchman was “all eyes,” the Englishman was “all ears.”
In fact, the visual apparatus65 of the one had been singularly perfected by practice. The sensibility of its retina must have been as instantaneous as that of those conjurors who recognize a card merely by a rapid movement in cutting the pack or by the arrangement only of marks invisible to others. The Frenchman indeed possessed66 in the highest degree what may be called “the memory of the eye.”
The Englishman, on the contrary, appeared especially organized to listen and to hear. When his aural68 apparatus had been once struck by the sound of a voice he could not forget it, and after ten or even twenty years he would have recognized it among a thousand. His ears, to be sure, had not the power of moving as freely as those of animals who are provided with large auditory flaps; but, since scientific men know that human ears possess, in fact, a very limited power of movement, we should not be far wrong in affirming that those of the said Englishman became erect69, and turned in all directions while endeavoring to gather in the sounds, in a manner apparent only to the naturalist70. It must be observed that this perfection of sight and hearing was of wonderful assistance to these two men in their vocation71, for the Englishman acted as correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, and the Frenchman, as correspondent of what newspaper, or of what newspapers, he did not say; and when asked, he replied in a jocular manner that he corresponded with “his cousin Madeleine.” This Frenchman, however, neath his careless surface, was wonderfully shrewd and sagacious. Even while speaking at random72, perhaps the better to hide his desire to learn, he never forgot himself. His loquacity73 even helped him to conceal74 his thoughts, and he was perhaps even more discreet75 than his confrere of the Daily Telegraph. Both were present at this fete given at the New Palace on the night of the 15th of July in their character of reporters.
It is needless to say that these two men were devoted76 to their mission in the world — that they delighted to throw themselves in the track of the most unexpected intelligence — that nothing terrified or discouraged them from succeeding — that they possessed the imperturbable77 sang froid and the genuine intrepidity78 of men of their calling. Enthusiastic jockeys in this steeplechase, this hunt after information, they leaped hedges, crossed rivers, sprang over fences, with the ardor79 of pure-blooded racers, who will run “a good first” or die!
Their journals did not restrict them with regard to money — the surest, the most rapid, the most perfect element of information known to this day. It must also be added, to their honor, that neither the one nor the other ever looked over or listened at the walls of private life, and that they only exercised their vocation when political or social interests were at stake. In a word, they made what has been for some years called “the great political and military reports.”
It will be seen, in following them, that they had generally an independent mode of viewing events, and, above all, their consequences, each having his own way of observing and appreciating.
The French correspondent was named Alcide Jolivet. Harry80 Blount was the name of the Englishman. They had just met for the first time at this fete in the New Palace, of which they had been ordered to give an account in their papers. The dissimilarity of their characters, added to a certain amount of jealousy81, which generally exists between rivals in the same calling, might have rendered them but little sympathetic. However, they did not avoid each other, but endeavored rather to exchange with each other the chat of the day. They were sportsmen, after all, hunting on the same ground. That which one missed might be advantageously secured by the other, and it was to their interest to meet and converse82.
This evening they were both on the look out; they felt, in fact, that there was something in the air.
“Even should it be only a wildgoose chase,” said Alcide Jolivet to himself, “it may be worth powder and shot.”
The two correspondents therefore began by cautiously sounding each other.
“Really, my dear sir, this little fete is charming!” said Alcide Jolivet pleasantly, thinking himself obliged to begin the conversation with this eminently83 French phrase.
“I have telegraphed already, ‘splendid!’” replied Harry Blount calmly, employing the word specially67 devoted to expressing admiration84 by all subjects of the United Kingdom.
“Nevertheless,” added Alcide Jolivet, “I felt compelled to remark to my cousin —”
“Your cousin?” repeated Harry Blount in a tone of surprise, interrupting his brother of the pen.
“Yes,” returned Alcide Jolivet, “my cousin Madeleine. It is with her that I correspond, and she likes to be quickly and well informed, does my cousin. I therefore remarked to her that, during this fete, a sort of cloud had appeared to overshadow the sovereign’s brow.”
“To me, it seemed radiant,” replied Harry Blount, who perhaps, wished to conceal his real opinion on this topic.
“And, naturally, you made it ‘radiant,’ in the columns of the Daily Telegraph.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you remember, Mr. Blount, what occurred at Zakret in 1812?”
“I remember it as well as if I had been there, sir,” replied the English correspondent.
“Then,” continued Alcide Jolivet, “you know that, in the middle of a fete given in his honor, it was announced to the Emperor Alexander that Napoleon had just crossed the Niemen with the vanguard of the French army. Nevertheless the Emperor did not leave the fete, and notwithstanding the extreme gravity of intelligence which might cost him his empire, he did not allow himself to show more uneasiness.”
“Than our host exhibited when General Kissoff informed him that the telegraphic wires had just been cut between the frontier and the government of Irkutsk.”
“Ah! you are aware of that?”
“I am!”
“As regards myself, it would be difficult to avoid knowing it, since my last telegram reached Udinsk,” observed Alcide Jolivet, with some satisfaction.
“And mine only as far as Krasnoiarsk,” answered Harry Blount, in a no less satisfied tone.
“Then you know also that orders have been sent to the troops of Nikolaevsk?”
“I do, sir; and at the same time a telegram was sent to the Cossacks of the government of Tobolsk to concentrate their forces.”
“Nothing can be more true, Mr. Blount; I was equally well acquainted with these measures, and you may be sure that my dear cousin shall know of them to-morrow.”
“Exactly as the readers of the Daily Telegraph shall know it also, M. Jolivet.”
“Well, when one sees all that is going on . . . .”
“And when one hears all that is said . . . .”
“An interesting campaign to follow, Mr. Blount.”
“I shall follow it, M. Jolivet!”
“Then it is possible that we shall find ourselves on ground less safe, perhaps, than the floor of this ball-room.”
“Less safe, certainly, but —”
“But much less slippery,” added Alcide Jolivet, holding up his companion, just as the latter, drawing back, was about to lose his equilibrium85.
Thereupon the two correspondents separated, pleased that the one had not stolen a march on the other.
At that moment the doors of the rooms adjoining the great reception saloon were thrown open, disclosing to view several immense tables beautifully laid out, and groaning86 under a profusion87 of valuable china and gold plate. On the central table, reserved for the princes, princesses, and members of the corps diplomatique, glittered an epergne of inestimable price, brought from London, and around this chef-d’oeuvre of chased gold reflected under the light of the lusters a thousand pieces of most beautiful service from the manufactories of Sevres.
The guests of the New Palace immediately began to stream towards the supper-rooms.
At that moment. General Kissoff, who had just re-entered, quickly approached the officer of chasseurs.
“Well?” asked the latter abruptly88, as he had done the former time.
“Telegrams pass Tomsk no longer, sire.”
“A courier this moment!”
The officer left the hall and entered a large antechamber adjoining. It was a cabinet with plain oak furniture, situated89 in an angle of the New Palace. Several pictures, amongst others some by Horace Vernet, hung on the wall.
The officer hastily opened a window, as if he felt the want of air, and stepped out on a balcony to breathe the pure atmosphere of a lovely July night. Beneath his eyes, bathed in moonlight, lay a fortified90 inclosure, from which rose two cathedrals, three palaces, and an arsenal91. Around this inclosure could be seen three distinct towns: Kitai-Gorod, Beloi-Gorod, Zemlianai-Gorod — European, Tartar, and Chinese quarters of great extent, commanded by towers, belfries, minarets92, and the cupolas of three hundred churches, with green domes, surmounted93 by the silver cross. A little winding94 river, here and there reflected the rays of the moon.
This river was the Moskowa; the town Moscow; the fortified inclosure the Kremlin; and the officer of chasseurs of the guard, who, with folded arms and thoughtful brow, was listening dreamily to the sounds floating from the New Palace over the old Muscovite city, was the Czar.
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1
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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repertoires
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| 全部节目( repertoire的名词复数 )； 演奏曲目 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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9
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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lusters
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| n.光泽( luster的名词复数 )；光辉；光彩；荣耀 | |
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adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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38
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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39
facade
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| n.(建筑物的)正面，临街正面；外表 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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41
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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42
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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43
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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45
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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46
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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47
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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48
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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49
interrogate
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| vt.讯问，审问，盘问 | |
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50
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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51
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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52
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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53
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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54
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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55
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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56
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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supplementary
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| adj.补充的，附加的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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parsimonious
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| adj.吝啬的，质量低劣的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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immutably
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| adv.不变地，永恒地 | |
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stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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aural
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| adj.听觉的，听力的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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naturalist
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| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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loquacity
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| n.多话，饶舌 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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minarets
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| n.（清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的）光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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