Beauty and The Beast | Page 4

Alexis poured out for him into a golden basin,
became at last comically drunk, and in endeavoring to execute a dance, lost his balance,
and fell at full length on his back.
The Prince burst into a yelling, shrieking fit of laughter. Instantly the yellow-haired serfs
in waiting, the Calmucks at the hall-door, and the half-witted dwarf who crawled around
the table in his tow shirt, began laughing in chorus, as violently as they could. The
Princess Martha and Prince Boris laughed also; and while the old man's eyes were
dimmed with streaming tears of mirth, quickly exchanged nods. The sound extended all
over the castle, and was heard outside of the walls.
"Father!" said Boris, "let us have the festival, and Mishka shall perform again. Prince
Paul of Kostroma would strangle, if he could see him."
"Good, by St. Vladimir!" exclaimed Prince Alexis. "Thou shalt have it, my Borka![1]

Where's Simon Petrovitch? May the Devil scorch that vagabond, if he doesn't do better
than the last time! Sasha!"
[1] Little Boris.
A broad-shouldered serf stepped forward and stood with bowed head.
"Lock up Simon Petrovitch in the southwestern tower. Send the tailor and the girls to him,
to learn their parts. Search every one of them before they go in, and if any one dares to
carry vodki to the beast, twenty-five lashes on the back!"
Sasha bowed again and departed. Simon Petrovitch was the court- poet of Kinesma. He
had a mechanical knack of preparing allegorical diversions which suited the conventional
taste of society at that time; but he had also a failing,--he was rarely sober enough to
write. Prince Alexis, therefore, was in the habit of locking him up and placing a guard
over him, until the inspiration had done its work. The most comely young serfs of both
sexes were selected to perform the parts, and the court-tailor arranged for them the
appropriate dresses. It depended very much upon accident--that is to say, the mood of
Prince Alexis--whether Simon Petrovitch was rewarded with stripes or rubles.
The matter thus settled, the Prince rose from the table and walked out upon an
overhanging balcony, where an immense reclining arm- chair of stuffed leather was ready
for his siesta. He preferred this indulgence in the open air; and although the weather was
rapidly growing cold, a pelisse of sables enabled him to slumber sweetly in the face of
the north wind. An attendant stood with the pelisse outspread; another held the halyards
to which was attached the great red slumber-flag, ready to run it up and announce to all
Kinesma that the noises of the town must cease; a few seconds more, and all things
would have been fixed in their regular daily courses. The Prince, in fact, was just
straightening his shoulders to receive the sables; his eyelids were dropping, and his eyes,
sinking mechanically with them, fell upon the river-road, at the foot of the hill. Along this
road walked a man, wearing the long cloth caftan of a merchant.
Prince Alexis started, and all slumber vanished out of his eyes. He leaned forward for a
moment, with a quick, eager expression; then a loud roar, like that of an enraged wild
beast, burst from his mouth. He gave a stamp that shook the balcony.
"Dog!" he cried to the trembling attendent, "my cap! my whip!"
The sables fell upon the floor, the cap and whip appeared in a twinkling, and the red
slumber-flag was folded up again for the first time in several years, as the Prince stormed
out of the castle. The traveller below had heard the cry,--for it might have been heard half
a mile. He seemed to have a presentiment of evil, for he had already set off towards the
town at full speed.
To explain the occurence, we must mention one of the Prince's many peculiar habits. This
was, to invite strangers or merchants of the neighborhood to dine with him, and, after
regaling them bountifully, to take his pay in subjecting them to all sorts of outrageous
tricks, with the help of his band of willing domestics. Now this particular merchant had
been invited, and had attended; but, being a very wide-awake, shrewd person, he saw
what was coming, and dexterously slipped away from the banquet without being
perceived. The Prince vowed vengeance, on discovering the escape, and he was not a
man to forget his word.
Impelled by such opposite passions, both parties ran with astonishing speed. The
merchant was the taller, but his long caftan, hastily ungirdled, swung behind him and
dragged in the air.

The short, booted legs of the Prince beat quicker time, and he grasped his short, heavy,
leathern whip more tightly as he saw the space diminishing. They dashed into the town of
Kinesma a hundred