The Emperors Candlesticks | Page 2

have
allowed so mocking a game to be carried on at his expense. Nicholas
Alexandrovitch, son and heir to the Tsar of all Russias, remembered
only that he was twenty years of age, that he had come to the opera ball,
accompanied by that dry old stick Lavrovski, with the sole purpose of
enjoying himself incognito for once, andhe started off in hot pursuit.
The passage behind the box was quite empty, but in the direction
leading to the foyer, some fifty yards, distant, he distantly caught the
sight of a swiftly disappearing figure, and the heels of the prettiest pair

of Turkish slippers it had ever been his good fortune to see.
The foyer was, at that late hour of the night, a scene of the motley, most
picturesque confusion. Assyrian queens were walking arm in arm with
John Bulls, Marguerites were coquetting unblushingly with gallants of
some two centuries later, while Hamlets and Orthellos were indulging
in the favourite Viennese pastime of hoisting their present partners on
to the tallest pillars they could find, with a view to starving them out up
there, into a jump some ten or twelve feet below, when they would
perforce land into the outstretched arms of their delighted swains.
And very pretty these tall pillars looked, thus decorated with living,
laughing, chatting figures of vivandières, Pirrettes, aye- and of sober
Ophelias and languishing Isoldes. But the black domino heeded than
not; darting hither and thither, taking no notice of cheeky sallies and
rough bousculades, he pushed his way through the crowd towards one
spot, close to the entrance, where a special little jewelled cap was fast
disappearing through the wide open portals, that led into the gaily
lighted place beyond.
The odalisque had evidently either repented of her audacious adventure,
or was possessed of an exceptionally bold spirit, for without a
moment's hesitation she ran down the stone steps, taking no further
heed of the jesting crowd she was forced to pass through, or of the two
or three idle masks who accosted her, and also started in pursuit.
Having reached the bottom of the steps she seemed to hesitate a
moment, only a second perhaps- was it intentional?- but that second
gave Nicholas Alexandrovitch the chance he had for some time striven
for; he overtook her, just as she laid her hand on the door of a faiker
which has drawn up, and lifted her off the ground as if she were a
feather, he placed her inside, and sat down in front of her, hot and
panting, while the coachman, without apparently waiting for any
directions, drove off rapidly through the ever noisier and gayer crowd.
CHAPTER 2
ALL this had excited little or no attention among the bystanders. How

should it? An opera ball teems with such episodes. Two young people,
one in pursuit of the other - a signal - a handy faiker, et voila! Who
cares? Everybody is busy with his own affairs, his own little bits of
adventure and intrigue.
Surely that grey domino over there, standing under one of the fine
electric light chandeliers, could have no interest in the unknown
odalisque and her ardent swain, for he made not the slightest attempt at
pursuit; yet his eyes followed the fast disappearing faiker, as long as it
was recognisable amidst the crowd of vehicles and mummers. A young
man he was; evidently not anxious to remain incognito, for he had
thrown back the hood of his domino, and held the mask in his hand.
Yet though he thus, as it were, courted recognition, he visibly started as
a soft musical voice, with the faintest vestige of foreign intonation,
addressed him merrily.
"Why so moody, M. Volenski? Have Strauss' waltzes tired out your
spirits, or has your donna eloped with a hated rival?"
The young man pulled himself together, and forced open his eyes and
thoughts to wander away from the faiker, which now appeared as a
mere speck, to the graceful figure in front of him, who owned that
musical voice and had called him by name.
"Madam Demidoff!" he said, evidently not pleasantly surprised.
"Herself," she replied, laughingly; "do not assume an astonishment, so
badly justified. I am not a Viennese grande dame, and coming to an
opera ball is not the most unpardonable of my eccentricities."
"Yes! but alone?"
"Not alone," she rejoined, still merry, "since you are here to protect me
from my worst perils, and lend me a helping hand in the most dire
difficulties."
"Allow me to start on these most enviable functions by finding your

carriage for you," he said, a trifle absently.
She bit her lip, and tried a laugh, but this time there was a soupçon of
harshness in the soft foreign notes.
"Ah, Ivàn, how you must reckon on