The floor was already filled with the sets of a
contre-danse
as the Kirovs moved slowly along the edge, greeting and being greeted by more people than Tanya had ever seen in one place in her life before. They found seats halfway along one side and Countess Maria settled happily to gossip with the other chaperones. Count Alexei wandered off to talk to his friends, Fedor's attention was caught by a pretty girl nearby, and Tanya had time to look about at the spectacle before her.
The set-dance ended and the orchestra struck up a lively mazurka which started Tanya's toes twitching as she rehearsed the steps in her head, half dreading and half wishing that someone would ask her to dance. Boris Kalinsky went past with a pretty blonde in golden gauze. He gave Tanya his charming smile and kissed his hand to her as he passed. Tanya glanced about her covertly to see if anyone had noticed, but no eyebrows were being raised, so she smiled back at him next time he turned his head in her direction.
Her attention was next caught by a man who was making his way along the far side of the ballroom as the mazurka ended and the floor cleared. A great many heads turned to greet him as he passed, and he seemed to create a small wave of bowing and curtseying as he moved slowly along, returning the greetings with an air of grave, detached courtesy.
For a moment Tanya thought he might be the Emperor, who she knew often attended social functions informally, but she soon realised that this man was not old enough, and his hair was brown, not golden. "He must be important, though," she thought. "He's wearing the Order of St. Andrei, and obviously everyone knows him.”
He was now standing right opposite her. He was very tall, and moved with an easy athletic grace, looking a fine figure in his dark blue Court dress. His hair was short and curled in the brushed-forward style which seemed to be fashionable, and Tanya thought him quite handsome, except that he had a curiously controlled, melancholy look about his face which made her feel uneasy, and she wondered if there was some great tragedy in his life, or if he had perhaps suffered some dreadful physical pain.
As she watched him, she realised that he had not once smiled or shown any particular expression other than that quiet, grave courtesy. She suddenly recalled an old peasant she used to visit with her Great-Aunt. He had been crippled in an accident and lay paralysed in the single room of his son's hovel, hopeless and resigned to waiting patiently for death to release him from a life which no longer held any purpose or pleasure. This man had the same expression.
At that moment,, he glanced across the room and saw Countess Maria, and immediately his eyes turned to Tanya. She felt she had been caught staring at him, but returned his gaze for a second or two before he turned his head to answer someone who had spoken to him. Immediately after that, he came across the floor to Countess Maria, who gave him her hand with an exclamation of pleasure.
“Tanya," she said a few moments later, "may I present my cousin, Prince Nikolai Ilyich Volkhov? Tanya Ivanovna, Alexei's niece, you know.”
As Prince Nikolai bent to brush her fingers with his lips, Tanya saw that there were grey threads among the brown curls. When he straightened up, she found herself looking into eyes of a blue so vivid that the ribbon of his St. Andrei looked pale by comparison, but they were just as remote and lifeless as the rest of him.
His invitation to dance and her acceptance came quite naturally and easily, but when Tanya found herself out on the floor, she was seized with a moment of panic.
“Oh, heavens!" she exclaimed in an agonised whisper. "What sort of dance is it?"
“A waltz," he replied.
She hesitated. "Fedor has worked very hard to teach me, but I think I should warn you that I've never danced in public before."
“I dare say we shall survive," he replied gravely, but with a note of gentle irony. "Start with your left foot . . ." He put his arm round her waist and took her right hand. ". . . and
one,
two three . . ." and they were off. The next moment, Tanya found herself floating round the floor in a most delightful manner.
“How very pleasant!" she remarked.
Her partner looked at her radiant face. "Fedor has done well," he observed, "but I suspect that you have a natural talent for it.”
Tanya gave him a grateful smile, but received no answering expression of any kind. "He must be bored to death with me," she thought.
“Your first ball, I believe?" he said. His voice was deep and pleasant, but just as lifeless as his expression.
“Yes, and I'd no idea it would be so interesting," she replied. "I've often wished I might see this house, but I hadn't realised the impression the people and the music would make. I'd always imagined it as an empty building, as it was in the illustrations."
“The house?" He sounded faintly interested.
“Oh, yes." Tanya seized on a possible topic of conversation with relief. "I've read so much about the buildings in Petersburg, for the Great-Uncle I lived with collected books on architecture. This was Rastrelli's own favourite of all his work, you know. Besides, the staircase caught my fancy.”
The Prince missed the step with a sudden and unexpected jerk. "I'm so sorry," he said, starting off again. "You were saying something about the staircase?"
“It was made in England," Tanya replied, assuming that he had slipped on some candlegrease, a hazard of which Fedor had warned her. "And brought here by sea to put in the house when it was built. The ironwork, that is. It's formed of ears of wheat and ivy-leaves, with little mice hiding among them, and it is said to rustle as one walks past. I tried to see it when we came, but there were so many people, and the footmen stared . . ."
“I've never noticed," Prince Nikolai said. "I must have passed up and down those stairs a hundred times, and not even suspected that it was full of 'rodents.”
They continued to dance in silence, and Tanya found herself enjoying it very much. She had the sense to realise that her partner's expertise made it seem easy. He was not really difficult to talk to now they had started, and she ventured on a few more remarks about the building to which he replied in a knowledgeable fashion, but when they were silent, she found that was equally easy and there was no need to talk all the time.
As the waltz ended, she sank into her curtsey and began to thank him, but he kept hold of her hand and said, "The staircase will be clear now. Will you show me the mice? I promise I'll protect you from the footmen!”
Two footmen remained at the head of the stairs, but Tanya thought they had shrunk by several feet. They watched impassively as she and Prince Nikolai descended a few steps and bent to examine the fine ironwork.
“See, here's a mouse!" she said, finding one peering inquisitively round an ivy-leaf.
Prince Nikolai stroked its head with one finger. "How exquisite," he said. "It looks real enough to nip my finger!”
They slowly descended the stairs, finding poppies among the wheatears, several more mice, a snail and a little fat bird, which the Prince said was a wren. The wheat did rustle a little in the current of air as they moved.
Suddenly, brisk steps crossed the gallery above and Prince Ruschev appeared at the top of the stairs. When he saw them, he stopped and ran down to them, an expression of concern on his face.
“Nikolai Ilyich! What is it?" he asked sharply. "Is something wrong?"
“We were just admiring the ironwork," Prince Nikolai replied. "There's nothing wrong, Stepan Vasil'ich, I assure you — don't worry! You have a fine collection of secret inhabitants here."
“Oh, the mice. Yes, very pretty, aren't they?" Prince Ruschev dismissed the rodents carelessly. "I thought, seeing you on these stairs . . ." he hesitated.
Tanya, puzzled, looked from one to the other and thought she must somehow have precipitated a small disaster.
“Have I done something dreadful?" she asked anxiously. "If so, I'm very sorry.”
Prince Nikolai turned to her. "It's nothing," he said sharply. "Pray don't concern yourself. My late wife once fell on these stairs, that's all. It was years ago, and quite unimportant now.”
He spoke with obvious unwillingness and there was an awkward silence. Then the orchestra up in the ballroom struck up another waltz, and Prince Nikolai exclaimed, "I'm promised for this! Will you excuse me? Countess — Stepan Vasil'ich . . ." and he went back up the stairs, leaving Tanya with a distinct impression that he was hastening away from something intolerable.
Prince Ruschev offered Tanya his arm and said, "Would you care to dance?" Tanya accepted, and they returned to the ballroom, where she found that her new partner made waltzing a careful, plodding affair, quite unlike the floating feeling given it by Prince Nikolai.
After a silent circuit of the floor, she said hesitantly, "Did I make a
faux pas?"
“
It was my fault," Prince Ruschev replied kindly. "You were not to know, and if I hadn't come by and made a fuss, the situation would not have arisen. It was a shock to see him on those stairs, and I spoke without thinking. Nikolai Ilyich's friends don't care to remind him of his wife, you see. It was a very unhappy business.”
Tanya was glad when the waltz ended. The Prince seemed pleased with her faltering attempts to talk about his palace, but she thought him a cold man whose concern about the incident on the stairs was due more to his own involvement than to any real sympathy for Prince Nikolai or his wife.
As soon as she returned to Countess Maria, Tanya was claimed by Boris Kalinsky, who languished at her most flatteringly through the complications of a set-dance and made her feel amazingly clever, witty and attractive, which was very pleasant.
During the waiting figure, when she and Boris were at the end of their set, she found herself facing Prince Nikolai, who was also waiting at the end of the next set. Seeing his face made her feel a sudden compassion for him.
“That's why he's so sad," she thought. "Because his wife died, and now I've reminded him . . ." and at that point her eyes met his and she gave him such a stricken look that his gaze was arrested by it, but the next moment the figure changed and they were separated by the movement of the dance.
After the dance, Boris escorted her back to Countess Maria and seemed disposed to linger at her side, but his arm was suddenly seized from behind by Prince Nikolai, who said, "Boris, go and talk to my Aunt Elizaveta, there's a good fellow!" and he was left alone as Prince Nikolai took Tanya out into the waltz which was just beginning.
Tanya was startled, for he simply took her hand and had her out of her seat and on to the floor without a word, and she was also conscious of an outbreak of murmuring among the chaperones along the wall behind her, which spread like a ripple along the line, and a number of dancers turned their heads to look at her.
“Oh dear, what have I done?" she asked.
“My fault," Prince Nikolai replied. "I never dance more than once with the same partner, and any departure from normal attracts notice. I'm sorry, but I must speak to you."
“And Ito you," Tanya said firmly. "I'm very sorry about the stairs."
“What did Stepan Vasil'ich tell you?"
“He said your friends don't care for you to be reminded about – about your wife."
“He didn't explain why?"
“No, but you said – an accident . . ."
“The truth of the matter is, I hated my wife," Prince Nikolai said in a very quiet, clear voice, but between his teeth, as if he regretted having to say anything about it at all. "We were separated. She fell down those stairs and broke her back. It was nearly six years ago. She died some months later. That's all there is to it.”
Tanya could think of nothing to say, and as they turned, her foot slipped and she stumbled. Prince Nikolai's armtightened about her waist as he steadied her, and as a result she was suddenly pressed closely against his body for a second or two. He resumed his usual correct distance as soon as he was sure that her balance was restored, but she was left with an acute physical awareness of him which made her throat feel dry and constricted, so that it was difficult to breathe, and a tremor like a shiver ran through her.
Feeling very uncertain and shaken, she remained silent, her eyes avoiding her partner's face for fear he might see the effect his nearness had had on her, and despise her for a gauche, inexperienced provincial. Her dancing feet moved on correctly enough, but they had lost the easy flow of that first waltz with him.
Presently, the half-frightened flutter in her heartbeat slowed and returned to normal, and her confused mind settled on what Prince Nikolai had said – that he
hated
his wife! What an extraordinary statement! How could a man hate his wife? She could understand that an arranged marriage, as most marriages were in Russia, might result in indifference, or even dislike, but hatred . . .? Tanya had never hated anyone. There were people she did not much like, and a few she preferred to avoid if she possibly could, but she could only imagine what hatred might be like. The word conjured up a vision of something dark and violent –how could such a remote and cold-seeming, almost lifeless, person feel an emotion as burning and passionate as hatred, and speak of it, however reluctantly, in that calm, quiet voice, devoid of any feeling or expression? Without realising what she was doing, Tanya looked up into Prince Nikolai's face, her wide eyes troubled and questioning, wondering what it would be like to be hated by him. He met her gaze, and a slight frown marred the impassivity of his face.
“I would never have suggested going with you to look at the staircase if it had distressed me in any way, would I?"
“I – I suppose not," Tanya said miserably. "It's just that you've been very kind to me, and I wouldn't like to think I'd upset you."
“Is that all that troubles you?" he asked, still frowning a little. There was not the slightest hint of innuendo in his manner, but his voice seemed to have changed subtly, sounding almost concerned.
Tanya's pulse fluttered again as she felt her colour rising, but she managed to say unsteadily, "I wouldn't wish to hurt anyone, even unintentionally."