The Tsar's Window/Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI.
AN IMPERIAL WEDDING.
January 25.
CERTAINLY I had to come to Russia to be appreciated. I have been gradually discovering this for some time, but a realizing sense of it burst upon me yesterday, at the marriage of "Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Anastasia Michaelovna" to "His Royal Highness, My Lord, the Hereditary Grand Duke Frederic of Mechlenburg-Schwerin," all in very large capitals. How small "Mr." and "Mrs." sound after that!
The wedding took place in the palace chapel, the scene of the christening. There are only three or four days in the week when members of the Greek Church may marry, and of these Friday and Sunday seem to be the favorites.
I am beginning to feel quite at home in the palace, but have not yet reached the point of wishing to be maid of honor. Such gilded servitude would not suit me. Give me rather a floor to scrub and a good brush to do it with, and let me keep my independence.
Among the gentlemen of the palace who met us in the first hall which we entered was Mr. Cheremenieff. He joined me at once, telling me naïvely that he had been waiting for me, and asking me why I did not go to the ballet the night before, when I suddenly remembered that I had told him I intended to go.
"Were you there?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered hesitatingly; then added, with a badly assumed air of indifference, "I go nearly every Thursday."
There was a few moments' silence, as we followed the rest of the party through the lofty rooms; then I said abruptly,—
"What are you?"
My companion evidently thought I had become suddenly insane, and his mystified air amused me vastly.
"I mean, what is your position? What are your duties in the palace?"
"Oh!" (laughing with an air of intense relief) "I am gentilhomme de la chambre. On certain days I am on duty here to make myself useful in this way."
"Escorting ladies about? Not an unpleasant duty, I should say."
"Quite the contrary," responded my gallant companion. After a pause he continued,—
"Do you intend to stay long in Russia, mademoiselle?"
"About two months longer."
His face fell. "Is that all?"
"Quite long enough to stay away from one's own country."
"But you would like Russia; I am sure you would. I—that is—we—all of us would make you so fond of it that you would not wish to go away," stammering, and growing a little confused.
"I dare say you would," I answered. "That is the reason I don't care to stay longer; for think what a terrible catastrophe it would be if I grew to like Russia so much that I did not wish to leave it."
"Then we might be able to induce you to stay always," said the young man, looking as if he would say more if he dared. He had said all I wished, and I was glad that we reached the throne-room just at this moment, and he was obliged to leave me.
The members of the diplomatic corps dropped in and chatted together, the ladies criticising each other's dresses.
We went into the chapel at last, and spread out our trains for the first, last, and only time that morning, to be ready for the entrance of the wedding party.
First came a long procession of all the gentlemen of the chamber, two by two, then the chamberlains, the masters of ceremonies, and the grand master of ceremonies, preceding the Emperor, who led the mother of the bridegroom.
She wore a cream-colored satin petticoat, and a red velvet train covered with gold embroidery; her jewels were rubies and diamonds. The Tsarevna came in with her husband, followed by her eldest sons.
The bride and groom were the last to enter the chapel. She is tall and slender, with dark eyes and smooth, dark hair. She was dressed in cloth of silver, and her train was crimson velvet, lined with ermine. She wore a tiara of rubies and diamonds, an old point-lace veil, two strings of enormous diamonds on her neck, and such a lustrous diamond stomacher that I could hardly look at her, for the flash and glitter of the jewels. Her train—very heavy and several yards long—was borne on the shoulders of four chamberlains, and a still greater personage walked behind her and carried the tail end of it. The bridegroom is pale and looks delicate.
I could cover pages with descriptions of cloth-of-gold and silver and velvet dresses, and gorgeous jewels, but I never could do justice to the scene. After the bridal party had taken their places at the altar, the ladies of the court entered, and the chapel soon became uncomfortably warm.
Mr. Cheremenieff was stationed at the other end of the room, but as his head towered above all the others I was disagreeably conscious that his eyes were fixed on me most of the time.
"How restless you are!" whispered Judith; "and oh, look at your young friend! How he gazes at you!"
"Don't notice him," I said nervously.
"I wonder where George is," she continued, craning her neck, and looking about in a very irreverent manner.
Alice overheard her, and put her mind at rest by saying, "Here he is, behind me."
Meanwhile there was a great deal of chanting and moving about, none of which I understood. The room grew warmer and closer, and Mr. Cheremenieff's eyes made me more and more nervous, until, for the first time in my life, I began to feel faint. I struggled bravely against it, but the priests' voices, the hum of the congregation, and the rustling of dresses became confused and dim, and I felt that in another moment I should be forced to sit down on the floor if I would not fall. Then I was vaguely conscious that a hand was laid on my arm, and a voice said,—
"Give me your fan, and lean this way if you are going to faint."
I complied mechanically, and in a few seconds conquered my weakness enough to loose my frantic clasp of George's arm, and to refuse the various smelling-bottles which were offered to me.
"I never faint," was my grateful reply to Count Piloff for his kindness.
"You looked wonderfully like it then," he murmured, smiling at my indignation.
"Pray tell me what they are doing," said I, indicating the bride and groom.
"They are about to drink of the same cup,—symbol of the joys and sorrows they must share through life. Those lighted candles they will each hold through the remainder of the service. And now look at this."
Two large golden crowns, set with jewels, were brought forth. They were held over the heads of the bridal couple by the different groomsmen in turn, while more chanting went on.
"Tremendously difficult performance that," remarked George.
The crowns seemed to be very heavy, and had to be held up at arm's length. Rings were exchanged; then the metropolitan joined the hands of the couple under a cloth-of-gold scarf, and led them three times slowly round the altar, still holding the candles, and being crowned by the groomsmen. This tour must have been rather troublesome for the bride, with her five train-bearers, her crown-holder, her candle in one hand, and her other hand in her husband's.
"Now they are married," said my neighbor. "They cannot change their minds after this."
I sighed.
"Do you feel ill again?" quickly.
"No. I was only thinking what a dreadful thing it must be to feel that you cannot change your mind."
The choir burst into a joyful song, and we were politely requested to walk out, which we did with much clatter and noise. The outer halls through which we passed were filled with officers of the guard, in full uniform, who made way for us to go into the hall of St. Alexander, where the Lutheran service was to be held. George kept close to my side, and suggested that I should go home at once; but I only laughed at him.
"I never fainted in my life," I cried. "It was nothing but the heat, and the fact that I have had no breakfast."
He stopped short and looked at me. "Are you wild?"
"No; but I slept so late that I had only time to take a cup of coffee."
"Then you certainly ought to go home," he exclaimed. "You have been on your feet for an hour and a half, and this service will be an hour long. I can take you to the carriage."
"No, no!" I cried. "It is nonsense. I don't wish to go!"
George drew his brows together, but only said, "If you insist upon it, of course you must stay; but I assure you there is nothing more worth seeing."
There was no time for further discussion, as we entered the hall at that moment. A platform and desk were prepared, as they are in a Lutheran Church, and three priests were waiting in their black gowns. The wedding procession soon entered, and the second service was performed in German. Its simplicity was the greatest possible contrast to the elaborate ceremony which had preceded it. There was a long sermon, consisting of good advice for the young people; then the bride and groom kissed all the family, and walked out. We followed, reaching home between three and four o'clock.
"Well, Tom," said my cousin, as we entered the house, "Dorris made herself famous by nearly fainting in George's arms, while Cheremenieff gazed at them from a distance in jealous despair."
"Did she really?" cried Tom eagerly.
"Certainly," insisted Judith. "Cheremenieff is very far gone, if I am any judge."
In vain I remonstrated. I was made to lie down, while Judith bathed my head and petted me to her heart's content.
The festivities at the palace were going on all this time. There was a great dinner, attended by the high court officials, the ministers of the empire, and the ladies belonging to the court. Toasts were drunk, while the guns of the fortress fired an accompaniment, and a concert was given in the dining-hall by the best musicians in Petersburg.
The ball—if it can be called a ball when the imperial family did all the dancing—was held in St. George's Hall, at half-past eight.
We passed through long corridors filled with richly dressed gentlemen, and through an immense room, full of windows, columns, and officers. There was a narrow way in the centre, down which we went, seeing various familiar faces among the surrounding uniforms, and, traversing another corridor, came to the door of the ball-room. The number of invitations was limited, including only a few of those who were present at the wedding. No officer under the rank of a colonel was allowed in the ball-room.
Opposite the door by which we entered was the throne, and over our heads was the orchestra. The throne was covered with red brocade, with a canopy over it of the same. The ceiling of the room was arched and painted.
The dresses were the same which had been worn in the morning; only those who were fortunate enough to possess more than one court-train had changed, and among this number were all of the grand duchesses.
The chamberlains and gentlemen of the chamber wore white silk stockings and white knee-breeches, dark coats heavily trimmed with gold lace, and they carried black cocked hats trimmed with gold lace and feathers. The masters of ceremonies had long gilt wands, with which they preceded the imperial family when it entered at nine o'clock. The band played the polonaise from "La vie pour le Tsar," and the procession took its way to the foot of the throne, stayed there a few minutes, then began to dance the polonaise. It can hardly be called a dance, as it simply consists in walking rather quickly in procession about the room, two by two, the gentleman just touching the lady's fingers as he leads her out. The grand master of ceremonies led the way, followed by two lesser lights. Prince L led the polonaise, with a very martial air. He plunged into the crowd in the most unexpected places, scattering the people right and left, crushing us up together; and by the time we had come to a realizing sense that the Emperor was passing close to us, and had made our courtesies with much confusion, and many bumps from our neighbors,—lo! there was the procession behind us, and we were obliged to face about and go through with the same ceremony again.
George was talking to Judith most of the evening. He had no eyes for any one else, though he did say to me at first, "I am glad to see you looking so well this evening."
Mr. Cheremenieff, however, attached himself to my side, and remained there from the time I entered the room till I drove away from the palace door. I amused myself by criticising everything, and horrified my companion by proposing to dance the polonaise.
"Why not?" I cried. "There goes the German ambassadress."
"I really think you had better not," remonstrated Mr. Cheremenieff. "People might think it strange."
"But why are you so afraid of what people will say? In America we do exactly as we like. If the President were dancing a polonaise, I should not hesitate to step in behind him if I wished it," cried I, devoutly hoping that Alice might not hear the tales with which I was entertaining this young man, well knowing she would immediately tell him that I was talking nonsense.
"Indeed!" he responded. "It must be a—a—charming country. I hope to visit it some time. O mademoiselle" (suddenly becoming sentimental) "if you would only try to like Russia! Believe me, the greatest joy—"
Here the polonaise interrupted my companion's speech. After the necessary salutations had been gone through with, a charming young Frenchman who stood near me raised his dark eyes plaintively to mine, and murmured,—
"Mademoiselle, je vous en supplie! J'ai reçu tous vos contre-coups!"
The next moment Mr. Cheremenieff resumed his place by my side.
"Sometime," he said in a low tone, "I shall visit America. I am now studying English, and making great progress. Would you" (putting on a beseeching look) "would you welcome me if I came to your country?"
"We are probably the most hospitable nation in the world," I responded sagely. "But you are very young: you will have plenty of time to travel in the future."
He did not look pleased at this.
"If you would make up your mind to stay in Russia for a few years, I assure you we could make you happy" (with an air of stern determination).
"No doubt," I answered carelessly. "How pretty the bride looks! That is a cloth-of-silver train, is n't it? The Tsarevna has such a sweet face, I think. she looks sympathetic. Is that the Grand Duke Michael? I should know he was a great general, or a great man of some sort."
My companion reluctantly followed my lead in conversation.
"I am sure you must admire the wife of the Grand Duke Vladimir," he remarked. "She is the only one who has married into the imperial family and retained her own religion."
Pages followed the ladies to arrange their trains, as they turned the corners.
We suspended conversation for a few minutes, to watch the dancing; then my young friend began again: "In your country, I hear, it is customary for a gentleman, when he wishes to marry a young lady, to declare his feelings directly to her, before speaking to her parents or guardians."
I hesitated. "Yes, but the lady always gives him some decided encouragement before he says anything to her."
I felt that I must proceed warily; for I knew not what results might follow.
"Ah!" he exclaimed eagerly; "but what would you call encouragement?"
"Well," I debated for a moment, "asking the man to call and see her—or—accepting a present from him, or—telling him she is fond of his mother."
I paused; and my companion looked at me in dumb amazement. He must think the Americans a very curious and wonderful people!
"Any of those things," I went on seriously, "would be considered encouragement."
He ceased to look astonished, and began to be downcast.
"And without something of that sort, a man would not declare his feelings?"
"Oh, dear, no!" I cried. "What lovely blue eyes Madame Kirovieff has!"
"I prefer dark ones," said my companion, looking at me sentimentally.
The ambassador approached at this moment, and I had a short respite. At ten o'clock the imperial family left the hall.
"Come," said Nicolas.
"Where?" Judith and I inquired, in a breath.
"Home, of course. Have you not been here long enough?"
"You don't mean to tell me," said I indignantly, "that this is all! I thought it was a ball. The idea of going home at this hour,—having done nothing but watch other people dance!"
They all laughed; and we lingered for a long time, being among the last to leave the hall. We stared in our most well-bred manner at Chung How, the Chinese ambassador, and some of his suite. He is a mandarin of the highest rank, "Wearer of the Diamond Button," etc., etc., etc. He was dressed in a yellow satin gown over a blue one, and had a large emerald ring on his thumb.
At last we had to depart. While my overshoes were being put on for me by one servant, and my cloak thrown about me by another (I never wait on myself in Russia), Mr. Cheremenieff asked me if I intended to go to a rout at one of the embassies the next evening.
"Rout?" I repeated, opening my eyes very wide, and nearly losing my equilibrium, as Vasili worked on my overshoe. "Do ladies go?"
George laughed. "I can imagine the visions of Bohemians, dancing-girls, and wild orgies which are flying through your head at that word. You will be disappointed when you learn that a rout is only a mild reception, with no dancing, and very little to eat."
"Then I shall not go, Mr. Cheremenieff" (twisting my bashlik about my head, and mechanically allowing George to tie it behind for me). "I don't think I am invited; and I don't care for any more parties till I have had one day's rest. Good-night."
I came home quite pleased with myself for having discovered that Mr. Cheremenieff was in love with me, and for having made him understand in such a delicate way that I could not return his affection. It seems to me that I must be very attractive; for here is Mr. Thurber in love with me too,—as much in love as an icicle ever is. I wonder that no one at home discovered my fascinations.
Joking aside, I am growing tired of the utterly artificial life which I lead here, and would like to get back among my own people. If I had not been so interested in my own affairs lately, I should have been anxious about Judith. She looks sad and heavy-eyed: it may be the late hours which we keep, and the continual excitement in which we live. I hope that is all.
I left my room this morning to go to the library, where I always find the newspapers. On my way thither I passed through the little salon, where Judith likes to sit by the fire. I was absorbed in my own thoughts, and did not notice that the room was occupied till I was in the middle of the floor. There was George, talking earnestly to my cousin, and she was—crying! I walked on to the other door, after one astonished glance, paying little attention to George's polite bow. But I tried unsuccessfully to interest myself in the paper when I reached the library. What can it mean? I suppose time alone will solve the mystery; but I am puzzled.