“Ah, my dear Rouletabille! I have been looking for you. Our friends wrote me you were coming to St. Petersburg.”
* In this story according to Russian habit General Trebassof is called alternately by that name or the family name Feodor Feodorovitch, and Madame Trebassof by that name or her family name, Matrena Petrovna. — Translator’s Note.
Rouletabille hurried over to him and they shook hands like friends who meet after a long separation. The reporter was presented to the company as a close young friend from Paris whom they had enjoyed so much during their latest visit to the City of Light. Everybody inquired for the latest word of Paris as of a dear acquaintance.
“How is everybody at Maxim’s?” urged the excellent Athanase Georgevitch.
Thaddeus, too, had been once in Paris and he returned with an enthusiastic liking9 for the French demoiselles.
“Vos gogottes, monsieur,” he said, appearing very amiable10 and leaning on each word, with a guttural emphasis such as is common in the western provinces, “ah, vos gogottes!”
Matrena Perovna tried to silence him, but Thaddeus insisted on his right to appreciate the fair sex away from home. He had a turgid, sentimental11 wife, always weeping and cramming12 her religious notions down his throat.
Of course someone asked Rouletabille what he thought of Russia, but he had no more than opened his mouth to reply than Athanase Georgevitch closed it by interrupting:
“Permettez! Permettez! You others, of the young generation, what do you know of it? You need to have lived a long time and in all its districts to appreciate Russia at its true value. Russia, my young sir, is as yet a closed book to you.”
“Naturally,” Rouletabille answered, smiling.
“Well, well, here’s your health! What I would point out to you first of all is that it is a good buyer of champagne, eh?”— and he gave a huge grin. “But the hardest drinker I ever knew was born on the banks of the Seine. Did you know him, Feodor Feodorovitch? Poor Charles Dufour, who died two years ago at fete of the officers of the Guard. He wagered14 at the end of the banquet that he could drink a glassful of champagne to the health of each man there. There were sixty when you came to count them. He commenced the round of the table and the affair went splendidly up to the fifty-eighth man. But at the fifty-ninth — think of the misfortune! — the champagne ran out! That poor, that charming, that excellent Charles took up a glass of vin dore which was in the glass of this fifty-ninth, wished him long life, drained the glass at one draught15, had just time to murmur16, ‘Tokay, 1807,’ and fell back dead! Ah, he knew the brands, my word! and he proved it to his last breath! Peace to his ashes! They asked what he died of. I knew he died because of the inappropriate blend of flavors. There should be discipline in all things and not promiscuous17 mixing. One more glass of champagne and he would have been drinking with us this evening. Your health, Matrena Petrovna. Champagne, Feodor Feodorovitch! Vive la France, monsieur! Natacha, my child, you must sing something. Boris will accompany you on the guzla. Your father will enjoy it.”
All eyes turned toward Natacha as she rose.
Rouletabille was struck by her serene18 beauty. That was the first enthralling19 impression, an impression so strong it astonished him, the perfect serenity20, the supreme21 calm, the tranquil3 harmony of her noble features. Natacha was twenty. Heavy brown hair circled about er forehead and was looped about her ears, which were half-concealed. Her profile was clear-cut; her mouth was strong and revealed between red, firm lips the even pearliness of her teeth. She was of medium height. In walking she had the free, light step of the highborn maidens22 who, in primal23 times, pressed the flowers as they passed without crushing them. But all her true grace seemed to be concentrated in her eyes, which were deep and of a dark blue. The impression she made upon a beholder24 was very complex. And it would have been difficult to say whether the calm which pervaded25 every manifestation26 of her beauty was the result of conscious control or the most perfect ease.
She took down the guzla and handed it to Boris, who struck some plaintive27 preliminary chords.
“What shall I sing?” she inquired, raising her father’s hand from the back of the sofa where he rested and kissing it with filial tenderness.
“Improvise,” said the general. “Improvise in French, for the sake of our guest.”
“Oh, yes,” cried Boris; “improvise as you did the other evening.”
He immediately struck a minor28 chord.
Natacha looked fondly at her father as she sang:
“When the moment comes that parts us at the close of day,
when the Angel of Sleep covers you with azure29 wings;
“Oh, may your eyes rest from so many tears, and your oppressed heart have calm;
“In each moment that we have together, Father dear, let our souls feel harmony sweet and mystical;
“And when your thoughts may have flown to other worlds, oh, may my image, at least, nestle within your sleeping eyes.”
Natacha’s voice was sweet, and the charm of it subtly pervasive30. The words as she uttered them seemed to have all the quality of a prayer and there were tears in all eyes, excepting those of Michael Korsakoff, the second orderly, whom Rouletabille appraised31 as a man with a rough heart not much open to sentiment.
“Feodor Feodorovitch,” said this officer, when the young girl’s voice had faded away into the blending with the last note of the guzla, “Feodor Feodorovitch is a man and a glorious soldier who is able to sleep in peace, because he has labored32 for his country and for his Czar.”
“Yes, yes. Labored well! A glorious soldier!” repeated Athanase Georgevitch and Ivan Petrovitch. “Well may he sleep peacefully.”
“Natacha sang like an angel,” said Boris, the first orderly, in a tremulous voice.
“Like an angel, Boris Nikolaievitch. But why did she speak of his heart oppressed? I don’t see that General Trebassof has a heart oppressed, for my part.” Michael Korsakoff spoke33 roughly as he drained his glass.
“No, that’s so, isn’t it?” agreed the others.
“A young girl may wish her father a pleasant sleep, surely!” said Matrena Petrovna, with a certain good sense. “Natacha has affected34 us all, has she not, Feodor?”
“Yes, she made me weep,” declared the general. “But let us have champagne to cheer us up. Our young friend here will think we are chicken-hearted.”
“Never think that,” said Rouletabille. “Mademoiselle has touched me deeply as well. She is an artist, really a great artist. And a poet.”
“He is from Paris; he knows,” said the others.
And all drank.
Then they talked about music, with great display of knowledge concerning things operatic. First one, then another went to the piano and ran through some motif35 that the rest hummed a little first, then shouted in a rousing chorus. Then they drank more, amid a perfect fracas36 of talk and laughter. Ivan Petrovitch and Athanase Georgevitch walked across and kissed the general. Rouletabille saw all around him great children who amused themselves with unbelievable naivete and who drank in a fashion more unbelievable still. Matrena Petrovna smoked cigarettes of yellow tobacco incessantly37, rising almost continually to make a hurried round of the rooms, and after having prompted the servants to greater watchfulness38, sat and looked long at Rouletabille, who did not stir, but caught every word, every gesture of each one there. Finally, sighing, she sat down by Feodor and asked how his leg felt. Michael and Natacha, in a corner, were deep in conversation, and Boris watched them with obvious impatience39, still strumming the guzla. But the thing that struck Rouletabille’s youthful imagination beyond all else was the mild face of the general. He had not imagined the terrible Trebassof with so paternal40 and sympathetic an expression. The Paris papers had printed redoubtable41 pictures of him, more or less authentic42, but the arts of photography and engraving43 had cut vigorous, rough features of an official — who knew no pity. Such pictures were in perfect accord with the idea one naturally had of the dominating figure of the government at Moscow, the man who, during eight days — the Red Week — had made so many corpses44 of students and workmen that the halls of the University and the factories had opened their doors since in vain. The dead would have had to arise for those places to be peopled! Days of terrible battle where in one quarter or another of the city there was naught45 but massacre46 or burnings, until Matrena Petrovna and her step-daughter, Natacha (all the papers told of it), had fallen on their knees before the general and begged terms for the last of the revolutionaries, at bay in the Presnia quarter, and had been refused by him. “War is war,” had been his answer, with irrefutable logic47. “How can you ask mercy for these men who never give it?” Be it said for the young men of the barricades48 that they never surrendered, and equally be it said for Trebassof that he necessarily shot them. “If I had only myself to consider,” the general had said to a Paris journalist, “I could have been gentle as a lamb with these unfortunates, and so I should not now myself be condemned49 to death. After all, I fail to see what they reproach me with. I have served my master as a brave and loyal subject, no more, and, after the fighting, I have let others ferret out the children that had hidden under their mothers’ skirts. Everybody talks of the repression50 of Moscow, but let us speak, my friend, of the Commune. There was a piece of work I would not have done, to massacre within a court an unresisting crowd of men, women and children. I am a rough and faithful soldier of His Majesty51, but I am not a monster, and I have the feelings of a husband and father, my dear monsieur. Tell your readers that, if you care to, and do not surmise52 further about whether I appear to regret being condemned to death.”
Certainly what stupefied Rouletabille now was this staunch figure of the condemned man who appeared so tranquilly to enjoy his life. When the general was not furthering the gayety of his friends he was talking with his wife and daughter, who adored him and continually fondled him, and he seemed perfectly53 happy. With his enormous grizzly54 mustache, his ruddy color, his keen, piercing eyes, he looked the typical spoiled father.
The reporter studied all these widely-different types and made his observations while pretending to a ravenous55 appetite, which served, moreover, to fix him in the good graces of his hosts of the datcha des Iles. But, in reality, he passed the food to an enormous bull-dog under the table, in whose good graces he was also thus firmly planting himself. As Trebassof had prayed his companions to let his young friend satisfy his ravening56 hunger in peace, they did not concern themselves to entertain him. Then, too, the music served to distract attention from him, and at a moment somewhat later, when Matrena Petrovna turned to speak to the young man, she was frightened at not seeing him. Where had he gone? She went out into the veranda57 and looked. She did not dare to call. She walked into the grand-salon58 and saw the reporter just as he came out of the sitting-room59.
“Where were you?” she inquired.
“The sitting-room is certainly charming, and decorated exquisitely,” complimented Rouletabille. “It seems almost a boudoir.”
“It does serve as a boudoir for my step-daughter, whose bedroom opens directly from it; you see the door there. It is simply for the present that the luncheon60 table is set there, because for some time the police have pre-empted the veranda.”
“Is your dog a watch-dog, madame?” asked Rouletabille, caressing61 the beast, which had followed him.
“Khor is faithful and had guarded us well hitherto.”
“He sleeps now, then?”
“Yes. Koupriane has him shut in the lodge62 to keep him from barking nights. Koupriane fears that if he is out he will devour63 one of the police who watch in the garden at night. I wanted him to sleep in the house, or by his master’s door, or even at the foot of the bed, but Koupriane said, ‘No, no; no dog. Don’t rely on the dog. Nothing is more dangerous than to rely on the dog. ‘Since then he has kept Khor locked up at night. But I do not understand Koupriane’s idea.”
“Monsieur Koupriane is right,” said the reporter. “Dogs are useful only against strangers.”
“Oh,” gasped64 the poor woman, dropping her eyes. “Koupriane certainly knows his business; he thinks of everything.”
“Come,” she added rapidly, as though to hide her disquiet65, “do not go out like that without letting me know. They want you in the dining-room.”
“I must have you tell me right now about this attempt.”
“In the dining-room, in the dining-room. In spite of myself,” she said in a low voice, “it is stronger than I am. I am not able to leave the general by himself while he is on the ground-floor.”
She drew Rouletabille into the dining-room, where the gentlemen were now telling odd stories of street robberies amid loud laughter. Natacha was still talking with Michael Korsakoff; Boris, whose eyes never quitted them, was as pale as the wax on his guzla, which he rattled66 violently from time to time. Matrena made Rouletabille sit in a corner of the sofa, near her, and, counting on her fingers like a careful housewife who does not wish to overlook anything in her domestic calculations, she said:
“There have been three attempts; the first two in Moscow. The first happened very simply. The general knew he had been condemned to death. They had delivered to him at the palace in the afternoon the revoluntionary poster which proclaimed his intended fate to the whole city and country. So Feodor, who was just about to ride into the city, dismissed his escort. He ordered horses put to a sleigh. I trembled and asked what he was going to do. He said he was going to drive quietly through all parts of the city, in order to show the Muscovites that a governor appointed according to law by the Little Father and who had in his conscience only the sense that he had done his full duty was not to be intimidated67. It was nearly four o’clock, toward the end of a winter day that had been clear and bright, but very cold. I wrapped myself in my furs and took my seat beside him, and he said, ‘This is fine, Matrena; this will have a great effect on these imbeciles.’ So we started. At first we drove along the Naberjnaia. The sleigh glided68 like the wind. The general hit the driver a heavy blow in the back, crying, ‘Slower, fool; they will think we are afraid,’ and so the horses were almost walking when, passing behind the Church of Protection and intercession, we reached the Place Rouge69. Until then the few passers-by had looked at us, and as they recognized him, hurried along to keep him in view. At the Place Rouge there was only a little knot of women kneeling before the Virgin70. As soon as these women saw us and recognized the equipage of the Governor, they dispersed71 like a flock of crows, with frightened cries. Feodor laughed so hard that as we passed under the vault72 of the Virgin his laugh seemed to shake the stones. I felt reassured73, monsieur. Our promenade74 continued without any remarkable75 incident. The city was almost deserted76. Everything lay prostrated77 under the awful blow of that battle in the street. Feodor said, ‘Ah, they give me a wide berth78; they do not know how much I love them,” and all through that promenade he said many more charming and delicate things to me.
“As we were talking pleasantly under our furs we came to la Place Koudrinsky, la rue13 Koudrinsky, to be exact. It was just four o’clock, and a light mist had commenced to mix with the sifting79 snow, and the houses to right and left were visible only as masses of shadow. We glided over the snow like a boat along the river in foggy calm. Then, suddenly, we heard piercing cries and saw shadows of soldiers rushing around, with movements that looked larger than human through the mist; their short whips looked enormous as they knocked some other shadows that we saw down like logs. The general stopped the sleigh and got out to see what was going on. I got out with him. They were soldiers of the famous Semenowsky regiment80, who had two prisoners, a young man and a child. The child was being beaten on the nape of the neck. It writhed81 on the ground and cried in torment82. It couldn’t have been more than nine years old. The other, the young man, held himself up and marched along without a single cry as the thongs83 fell brutally84 upon him. I was appalled85. I did not give my husband time to open his mouth before I called to the subaltern who commanded the detachment, ‘You should be ashamed to strike a child and a Christian86 like that, which cannot defend itself.’ The general told him the same thing. Then the subaltern told us that the little child had just killed a lieutenant87 in the street by firing a revolver, which he showed us, and it was the biggest one I ever have seen, and must have been as heavy for that infant to lift as a small cannon88. It was unbelievable.
“‘And the other,’ demanded the general; ‘what has he done?’
“‘He is a dangerous student,’ replied the subaltern, ‘who has delivered himself up as a prisoner because he promised the landlord of the house where he lives that he would do it to keep the house from being battered89 down with cannon.’
“‘But that is right of him. Why do you beat him?’
“‘Because he has told us he is a dangerous student.’
“‘That is no reason,’ Feodor told him. ‘He will be shot if he deserves it, and the child also, but I forbid you to beat him. You have not been furnished with these whips in order to beat isolated90 prisoners, but to charge the crowd when it does not obey the governor’s orders. In such a case you are ordered “Charge,” and you know what to do. You understand?’ Feodor said roughly. ‘I am General Trebassof, your governor.’
“Feodor was thoroughly91 human in saying this. Ah, well, he was badly compensed for it, very badly, I tell you. The student was truly dangerous, because he had no sooner heard my husband say, ‘I am General Trebassof, your governor,’ than he cried, ‘Ah, is it you, Trebassoff’ and drew a revolver from no one knows where and fired straight at the general, almost against his breast. But the general was not hit, happily, nor I either, who was by him and had thrown myself onto the student to disarm92 him and then was tossed about at the feet of the soldiers in the battle they waged around the student while the revolver was going off. Three soldiers were killed. You can understand that the others were furious. They raised me with many excuses and, all together, set to kicking the student in the loins and striking at him as he lay on the ground. The subaltern struck his face a blow that might have blinded him. Feodor hit the officer in the head with his fist and called, ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ The officer fell under the blow and Feodor himself carried him to the sleigh and laid him with the dead men. Then he took charge of the soldiers and led them to the barracks. I followed, as a sort of after-guard. We returned to the palace an hour later. It was quite dark by then, and almost at the entrance to the palace we were shot at by a group of revolutionaries who passed swiftly in two sleighs and disappeared in the darkness so fast that they could not be overtaken. I had a ball in my toque. The general had not been touched this time either, but our furs were ruined by the blood of the dead soldiers which they had forgotten to clean out of the sleigh. That was the first attempt, which meant little enough, after all, because it was fighting in the open. It was some days later that they commenced to try assassination93.”
At this moment Ermolai brought in four bottles of champagne and Thaddeus struck lightly on the piano.
“Quickly, madame, the second attempt,” said Rouletabille, who was aking hasty notes on his cuff94, never ceasing, meanwhile, to watch the convivial group and listening with both ears wide open to Matrena.
“The second happened still in Moscow. We had had a jolly dinner because we thought that at last the good old days were back and good citizens could live in peace; and Boris had tried out the guzla singing songs of the Orel country to please me; he is so fine and sympathetic. Natacha had gone somewhere or other. The sleigh was waiting at the door and we went out and got in. Almost instantly there was a fearful noise, and we were thrown out into the snow, both the general and me. There remained no trace of sleigh or coachman; the two horses were disemboweled, two magnificent piebald horses, my dear young monsieur, that the general was so attached to. As to Feodor, he had that serious wound in his right leg; the calf95 was shattered. I simply had my shoulder a little wrenched96, practically nothing. The bomb had been placed under the seat of the unhappy coachman, whose hat alone we found, in a pool of blood. From that attack the general lay two months in bed. In the second month they arrested two servants who were caught one night on the landing leading to the upper floor, where they had no business, and after that I sent at once for our old domestics in Orel to come and serve us. It was discovered that these detected servants were in touch with the revolutionaries, so they were hanged. The Emperor appointed a provisional governor, and now that the general was better we decided97 on a convalescence98 for him in the midi of France. We took train for St. Petersburg, but the journey started high fever in my husband and reopened the wound in his calf. The doctors ordered absolute rest and so we settled here in the datcha des Iles. Since then, not a day has passed without the general receiving an anonymous99 letter telling him that nothing can save him from the revenge of the revolutionaries. He is brave and only smiles over them, but for me, I know well that so long as we are in Russia we have not a moment’s security. So I watch him every minute and let no one approach him except his intimate friends and us of the family. I have brought an old gniagnia who watched me grow up, Ermolai, and the Orel servants. In the meantime, two months later, the third attempt suddenly occurred. It is certainly of them all the most frightening, because it is so mysterious, a mystery that has not yet, alas100, been solved.”
But Athanase Georgevitch had told a “good story” which raised so much hubbub101 that nothing else could be heard. Feodor Feodorovitch was so amused that he had tears in his eyes. Rouletabille said to himself as Matrena talked, “I never have seen men so gay, and yet they know perfectly they are apt to be blown up all together any moment.”
General Trebassof, who had steadily102 watched Rouletabille, who, for that matter, had been kept in eye by everyone there, said:
“Eh, eh, monsieur le journaliste, you find us very gay?”
“I find you very brave,” said Rouletabille quietly.
“How is that?” said Feodor Feodorovitch, smiling.
“You must pardon me for thinking of the things that you seem to have forgotten entirely103.”
He indicated the general’s wounded leg.
“The chances of war! the chances of war!” said the general. “A leg here, an arm there. But, as you see, I am still here. They will end by growing tired and leaving me in peace. Your health, my friend!”
“Your health, general!”
“You understand,” continued Feodor Feodorovitch, “there is no occasion to excite ourselves. It is our business to defend the empire at the peril104 of our lives. We find that quite natural, and there is no occasion to think of it. I have had terrors enough in other directions, not to speak of the terrors of love, that are more ferocious105 than you can yet imagine. Look at what they did to my poor friend the Chief of the Surete, Boichlikoff. He was commendable106 certainly. There was a brave man. Of an evening, when his work was over, he always left the bureau of the prefecture and went to join his wife and children in their apartment in the ruelle des Loups. Not a soldier! No guard! The others had every chance. One evening a score of revolutionaries, after having driven away the terrorized servants, mounted to his apartments. He was dining with his family. They knocked and he opened the door. He saw who they were, and tried to speak. They gave him no time. Before his wife and children, mad with terror and on their knees before the revolutionaries, they read him his death-sentence. A fine end that to a dinner!”
As he listened Rouletabille paled and he kept his eyes on the door as if he expected to see it open of itself, giving access to ferocious Nihilists of whom one, with a paper in his hand, would read the sentence of death to Feodor Feodorovitch. Rouletabille’s stomach was not yet seasoned to such stories. He almost regretted, momentarily, having taken the terrible responsibility of dismissing the police. After what Koupriane had confided107 to him of things that had happened in this house, he had not hesitated to risk everything on that audacious decision, but all the same, all the same — these stories of Nihilists who appear at the end of a meal, death-sentence in hand, they haunted him, they upset him. Certainly it had been a piece of foolhardiness to dismiss the police!
“Well,” he asked, conquering his misgivings108 and resuming, as always, his confidence in himself, “then, what did they do then, after reading the sentence?”
“The Chief of the Surete knew he had no time to spare. He did not ask for it. The revolutionaries ordered him to bid his family farewell. He raised his wife, his children, clasped them, bade them be of good courage, then said he was ready. They took him into the street. They stood him against a wall. His wife and children watched from a window. A volley sounded. They descended109 to secure the body, pierced with twenty-five bullets.”
“That was exactly the number of wounds that were made on the body of little Jacques Zloriksky,” came in the even tones of Natacha.
“Oh, you, you always find an excuse,” grumbled110 the general. “Poor Boichlikoff did his duty, as I did mine.
“Yes, papa, you acted like a soldier. That is what the revolutionaries ought not to forget. But have no fears for us, papa; because if they kill you we will all die with you.”
“And gayly too,” declared Athanase Georgevitch.
“They should come this evening. We are in form!”
Upon which Athanase filled the glasses again.
“None the less, permit me to say,” ventured the timber-merchant, Thaddeus Tchnitchnikof, timidly, “permit me to say that this Boichlikoff was very imprudent.”
“Yes, indeed, very gravely imprudent,” agreed Rouletabille. “When a man has had twenty-five good bullets shot into the body of a child, he ought certainly to keep his home well guarded if he wishes to dine in peace.”
He stammered111 a little toward the end of this, because it occurred to him that it was a little inconsistent to express such opinions, seeing what he had done with the guard over the general.
“Ah,” cried Athanase Georgevitch, in a stage-struck voice, “Ah, it was not imprudence! It was contempt of death! Yes, it was contempt of death that killed him! Even as the contempt of death keeps us, at this moment, in perfect health. To you, ladies and gentlemen! Do you know anything lovelier, grander, in the world than contempt of death? Gaze on Feodor Feodorovitch and answer me. Superb! My word, superb! To you all! The revolutionaries who are not of the police are of the same mind regarding our heroes. They may curse the tchinownicks who execute the terrible orders given them by those higher up, but those who are not of the police (there are some, I believe)— these surely recognize that men like the Chief of the Surete our dead friend, are brave.”
“Certainly,” endorsed112 the general. “Counting all things, they need more heroism113 for a promenade in a salon than a soldier on a battle-field.”
“I have met some of these men,” continued Athanase in exalted114 vein115. “I have found in all their homes the same — imprudence, as our young French friend calls it. A few days after the assassination of the Chief of Police in Moscow I was received by his successor in the same place where the assassination had occurred. He did not take the slightest precaution with me, whom he did not know at all, nor with men of the middle class who came to present their petitions, in spite of the fact that it was under precisely116 identical conditions that his predecessor117 had been slain118. Before I left I looked over to where on the floor there had so recently occurred such agony. They had placed a rug there and on the rug a table, and on that table there was a book. Guess what book. ‘Women’s Stockings,’ by Willy! And — and then — Your health, Matrena Petrovna. What’s the odds119!”
“You yourselves, my friends,” declared the general, “prove your great courage by coming to share the hours that remain of my life with me.”
“Not at all, not at all! It is war.”
“Yes, it is war.”
“Oh, there’s no occasion to pat us on the shoulder, Athanase,” insisted Thaddeus modestly. “What risk do we run? We are well guarded.”
“We are protected by the finger of God,” declared Athanase, “because the police — well, I haven’t any confidence in the police.”
Michael Korsakoff, who had been for a turn in the garden, entered during the remark.
“Be happy, then, Athanase Georgevitch,” said he, “for there are now no police around the villa120.”
“Where are they?” inquired the timber-merchant uneasily.
“An order came from Koupriane to remove them,” explained Matrena Petrovna, who exerted herself to appear calm.
“And are they not replaced?” asked Michael.
“No. It is incomprehensible. There must have been some confusion in the orders given.” And Matrena reddened, for she loathed121 a lie and it was in tribulation122 of spirit that she used this fable123 under Rouletabille’s directions.
“Oh, well, all the better,” said the general. “It will give me pleasure to see my home ridded for a while of such people.”
Athanase was naturally of the same mind as the general, and when Thaddeus and Ivan Petrovitch and the orderlies offered to pass the night at the villa and take the place of the absent police, Feodor Feodorovitch caught a gesture from Rouletabille which disapproved124 the idea of this new guard.
“No, no,” cried the general emphatically. “You leave at the usual time. I want now to get back into the ordinary run of things, my word! To live as everyone else does. We shall be all right. Koupriane and I have arranged the matter. Koupriane is less sure of his men, after all, than I am of my servants. You understand me. I do not need to explain further. You will go home to bed — and we will all sleep. Those are the orders. Besides, you must remember that the guard-post is only a step from here, at the corner of the road, and we have only to give a signal to bring them all here. But — more secret agents or special police — no, no! Good-night. All of us to bed now!”
They did not insist further. When Feodor had said, “Those are the orders,” there was room for nothing more, not even in the way of polite insistence125.
But before going to their beds all went into the veranda, where liqueurs were served by the brave Ermolai, as always. Matrena pushed the wheel-chair of the general there, and he kept repeating, “No, no. No more such people. No more police. They only bring trouble.”
“Feodor! Feodor!” sighed Matrena, whose anxiety deepened in spite of all she could do, “they watched over your dear life.”
“Life is dear to me only because of you, Matrena Petrovna.”
“And not at all because of me, papa?” said Natacha.
“Oh, Natacha!”
He took both her hands in his. It was an affecting glimpse of family intimacy126.
From time to time, while Ermolai poured the liqueurs, Feodor struck his band on the coverings over his leg.
“It gets better,” said he. “It gets better.”
Then melancholy127 showed in his rugged128 face, and he watched night deepen over the isles129, the golden night of St. Petersburg. It was not quite yet the time of year for what they call the golden nights there, the “white nights,” nights which never deepen to darkness, but they were already beautiful in their soft clarity, caressed130, here by the Gulf131 of Finland, almost at the same time by the last and the first rays of the sun, by twilight132 and dawn.
From the height of the veranda one of the most beautiful bits of the isles lay in view, and the hour was so lovely that its charm thrilled these people, of whom several, as Thaddeus, were still close to nature. It was he, first, who called to Natacha:
“Natacha! Natacha! Sing us your ‘Soir des Iles.’”
Natacha’s voice floated out upon the peace of the islands under the dim arched sky, light and clear as a night rose, and the guzla of Boris accompanied it. Natacha sang:
“This is the night of the Isles — at the north of the world. The sky presses in its stainless133 arms the bosom134 of earth, Night kisses the rose that dawn gave to the twilight. And the night air is sweet and fresh from across the shivering gulf, Like the breath of young girls from the world still farther north. Beneath the two lighted horizons, sinking and rising at once, The sun rolls rebounding135 from the gods at the north of the world. In this moment, beloved, when in the clear shadows of this rose-stained evening I am here alone with you, Respond, respond with a heart less timid to the holy, accustomed cry of ‘Good-evening.’”
Ah, how Boris Nikolaievitch and Michael Korsakoff watched her as she sang! Truly, no one ever can guess the anger or the love that broods in a Slavic heart under a soldier’s tunic136, whether the soldier wisely plays at the guzla, as the correct Boris, or merely lounges, twirling his mustache with his manicured and perfumed fingers, like Michael, the indifferent.
Natacha ceased singing, but all seemed to be listening to her still — the convivial group on the terrace appeared to be held in charmed attention, and the porcelain137 statuettes of men on the lawn, according to the mode of the Iles, seemed to lift on their short legs the better to hear pass the sighing harmony of Natacha in the rose nights at the north of the world.
Meanwhile Matrena wandered through the house from cellar to attic138, watching over her husband like a dog on guard, ready to bite, to throw itself in the way of danger, to receive the blows, to die for its master — and hunting for Rouletabille, who had disappeared again.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
fretted
|
|
| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
tranquilly
|
|
| adv. 宁静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
brace
|
|
| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
babble
|
|
| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
convivial
|
|
| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
champagne
|
|
| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
cramming
|
|
| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
wagered
|
|
| v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的过去式和过去分词 )；保证，担保 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
promiscuous
|
|
| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
enthralling
|
|
| 迷人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
serenity
|
|
| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
primal
|
|
| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
beholder
|
|
| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
pervaded
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
manifestation
|
|
| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
plaintive
|
|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
azure
|
|
| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
pervasive
|
|
| adj.普遍的；遍布的，(到处)弥漫的；渗透性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
appraised
|
|
| v.估价( appraise的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
labored
|
|
| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
motif
|
|
| n.(图案的)基本花纹，(衣服的)花边；主题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
fracas
|
|
| n.打架；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
watchfulness
|
|
| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
redoubtable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
authentic
|
|
| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
engraving
|
|
| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
corpses
|
|
| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
naught
|
|
| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
massacre
|
|
| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
barricades
|
|
| 路障，障碍物( barricade的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
repression
|
|
| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
surmise
|
|
| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
grizzly
|
|
| adj.略为灰色的，呈灰色的；n.灰色大熊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
ravenous
|
|
| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
ravening
|
|
| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
veranda
|
|
| n.走廊；阳台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
salon
|
|
| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
devour
|
|
| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
disquiet
|
|
| n.担心，焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
intimidated
|
|
| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
glided
|
|
| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
rouge
|
|
| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
dispersed
|
|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
vault
|
|
| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
reassured
|
|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
promenade
|
|
| n./v.散步 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
prostrated
|
|
| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
berth
|
|
| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
sifting
|
|
| n.筛，过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
writhed
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
thongs
|
|
| 的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
brutally
|
|
| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
appalled
|
|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
cannon
|
|
| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
battered
|
|
| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
isolated
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
disarm
|
|
| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
assassination
|
|
| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
cuff
|
|
| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
calf
|
|
| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
wrenched
|
|
| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
convalescence
|
|
| n.病后康复期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
anonymous
|
|
| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
hubbub
|
|
| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
ferocious
|
|
| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
commendable
|
|
| adj.值得称赞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
confided
|
|
| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
misgivings
|
|
| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
endorsed
|
|
| vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 )；在（尤指支票的）背面签字；在（文件的）背面写评论；在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
heroism
|
|
| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
exalted
|
|
| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
predecessor
|
|
| n.前辈，前任 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
slain
|
|
| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
loathed
|
|
| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
tribulation
|
|
| n.苦难，灾难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
fable
|
|
| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
disapproved
|
|
| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
insistence
|
|
| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
caressed
|
|
| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
gulf
|
|
| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
stainless
|
|
| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
rebounding
|
|
| 蹦跳运动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
tunic
|
|
| n.束腰外衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
porcelain
|
|
| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
attic
|
|
| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |