“I expect he was thinking of Marisha," Tanya replied a shade reprovingly, for she was less in awe of the Prince now that she knew him better.
“I hope so!" the Prince replied darkly, and walked away suddenly, leaving her puzzled by his reaction.
“How very odd!" She thought. "He really sounded quite annoyed!”
Thinking back over her conversation with the Prince, she debated with herself whether she might inadvertently have offended him by accepting an offer of tickets from Boris, and more than the usual number of invitations to dance from both Boris and Vladimir. She was not sure what exactly was involved in this apparently sensible custom of a friend of the family helping to launch a young lady during her debut, and she wondered if perhaps she was not expected to accept these little kindnesses from anyone but her sponsor. But surely, in that case, Boris would be well aware of the fact — he seemed to know all the rules of society very well — and he would not have offended the proper code of behaviour by offering? She repeated Prince Nikolai's words and manner through her memory, and then thought, "It was almost as if he was . . ." She hesitated for a long time before haltingly producing the word "jealous", and immediately considered herself extremely foolish to have hit on anything so unlikely. It was with something not unlike relief that she discovered another possible reason. Perhaps Prince Nikolai thought that she was attempting to lure Boris away from Marisha, and she could certainly understand that the Prince would be very annoyed about that! It would be a very shabby return for the Kirovs' kindness if she upset whatever understanding there might be between Boris and Marisha.
Apparently Marisha also had doubts about Boris's motives, for on the day before Epiphany, she asked Tanya if they might go for a drive together. Tanya was quite willing, but thought it best to ask Countess Maria, who replied that Tanya might quite well act as chaperone to Marisha, and it would do the girl good to go out more.
They spent an interesting morning inspecting those parts of the Alexander Nevsky Monastery to which visitors were admitted. Tanya found the extreme despair of the memorial figures by Martos in the cemetery decidedly depressing, but she cheered up when she saw Starov's Cathedral, set in a large open court and framed by the big pavilion-linked blocks of the monastic buildings. She thought it a most impressive building, not least for its simplicity and freedom from unnecessary decoration, and she was fortunate in falling in with an old monk who kindly pointed out to her how skilfully Starov had adapted the ground-plan, a Latin cross, of Tressini's cathedral which had stood there previously, to the needs of the Orthodox Church.
Marisha was very quiet all the time, and Tanya feared she might be bored. But it appeared that she was nerving herself to speak, for on the way home she asked timidly, "Do you like Boris?"
“Oh, very much!" Tanya replied heartily. Marisha seemed to shrink into herself and said, "Oh!" in a small, flat voice.
“He's a charming boy," Tanya went on, appearing not to notice. "I think it's very kind of him to put himself out to flirt with me when we meet, for I must be much older than he, and there can be few things more dull for a lively young fellow than to entertain an old maid!"
“You're not old!" Marisha protested. "You're so lively yourself!"
“Well, I'm not too old to be that," Tanya admitted, "but your Boris is too young for me." She hoped that Marisha was not aware that she and Boris were about the same age.
“I wish he were 'my' Boris," Marisha said sadly.
“He told me the other day that it won't be much longer," Tanya said encouragingly. "He only flirts to pass the time until you're old enough to be married."
“He never flirts with me," Marisha sounded a little regretful.
“Well, there you are, you see! He flirts with everyone else!" Tanya replied bracingly, and Marisha laughed and looked a great deal happier.
Countess Maria may also have had a few qualms about Tanya's friendship with Boris, but at the ball they attended that evening, when Tanya happened to be sitting out beside the Countess for once, she said lightly, "Oh, look! There goes Boris with another little blonde! Where does he find them all?"
“He does seem to collect them," Maria admitted. "I'm afraid he's quite a flirt."
“A very accomplished one, as far as I can judge, being inexperienced in such matters," Tanya said smilingly. "Still, I expect he'll be less active in that respect once he and Marisha are married."
“Well, of course, it's not certain," Countess Maria said hesitantly. "I mean, he hasn't formally asked me . . ."
“But it's understood, isn't it? He told me that he's waiting for her seventeenth birthday . . ." and Tanya noticed that Maria looked distinctly relieved.
They had quite a good view of the Epiphany ceremony the next day. Count Alexei declined to go as he said the cold brought on his rheumatism, and Irma was ruled too young to go by her mother, so the ladies, escorted by Fedor, wrapped up very warmly and went as far as Palace Square by carriage, then walked round the Palace to their positions about halfway along the river-front.
The granite quay and the frozen river were crowded with people of all kinds, mingling together freely, some in anticipation of an interesting spectacle, but most because it was an important religious ceremony. A small golden pavilion had been set up on the river, near to the quay and opposite the main entrance on that side of the Palace, but it was snowing a little, and the gilded roof was soon covered.
Fortunately there was not long to wait, for the cold was intense and Tanya had to keep tramping her feet up and down to keep the blood moving in them, despite her thick felt overboots. Suddenly all the chattering of the spectators died away, as a procession emerged from the Palace doors and descended to the Quay.
It had come down the Jordan staircase in the Palace and along the ground-floor gallery, led by the clergy, one priest carrying a cross and the others swinging censers. They formed an avenue to line the way for the higher clergy, who came next and followed the cross towards the pavilion, their heavy golden robes gleaming as they moved. Next came the choir of the Palace Cathedral in their scarlet uniforms, singing a hymn, then the Court, the officers of the Senate, the Ambassadors, senior officers of the Army and Navy, and the Emperor's aides and gentlemen-in-waiting, all of them in uniform or court dress, and bareheaded.
Prince Nikolai and Boris were with them, walking together. In the midst of his court came the Emperor, dressed in Cossack uniform, his face seeming almost to shine with benevolence, so that Tanya understood why many of the people around her murmured reverently that he was an angel.
The ceremony of blessing the waters of the Neva was quite short (fortunately, Tanya thought, seeing that all the participants were bareheaded, apart from the metropolitans, and none wore outdoor clothing). A hole had been cut in the ice, and after the water had been blessed, the priests ceremoniously drew a great deal for use as holy water in the many churches of the city, and then the procession returned to the Palace, and the moment they were inside (and being served hot drinks, Tanya hoped), the spectators began to file past the pavilion to fill the bottles they had brought to take the blessed water home to bring good fortune to their families.
Fedor joined the queue and returned with a bottleful, and also a filled goblet, from which each of them drank a little and murmured a prayer for the coming year, as did most of the other family groups around them. Tanya had read that it was the custom for recently-born babies to be baptised on this day, by priests dipping them bodily into the water, but Fedor assured them that the Emperor had forbidden the continuation of the custom because so many died of the shock, or slipped from the priests' frozen hands and drowned.
They were all so cold by then that it was a great relief to hurry back to the carriage and go home for a good hot luncheon, and a pleasantly idle afternoon in the warm.
Vladimir called in during the evening, and after a little preliminary throat-clearing, asked Tanya if she would care to see inside the Fortress. He seemed mildly surprised when she greeted the suggestion with delight, and modestly disclaimed any talent as a guide to its architectural features, but said that she might perhaps enlighten him a little on the subject, and so it was agreed that all the Kirovs should take luncheon with him the following day.
He sent a carriage for them, and they set out in good time, with Tanya at least full of pleasant anticipation.
The hours of daylight at this time of year were, of course, very short, but the sun made a welcome appearance after the bad weather of the past week, and the city had a fairy-tale appearance with the streets and buildings sparkling with white snow, and all the gilded domes and spires shining brightly, and the angel hanging by chains from the tip of the Petropavlovsky spire flying bravely against a blue sky.
They went the long way round, down the Nevsky Prospect, round the Winter Palace and along Palace Quay, then across to the north side on the ice, for the bridges had been removed for the winter. The Fortress was built on Hare Island, so they crossed a small permanent bridge to get to it, and entered through the impressive gateway, with the arms of Peter the Great carved over the arch.
Vladimir had provided them with a pass, so the sentry at the gate allowed them through into the courtyard, where Vladimir came out of the guardhouse to welcome them and take them to his quarters. On the way they passed the Governor's house, which was a pretty, low building with a great many windows, not at all fortress-like. Tanya was astonished to see how many trees were planted about the various buildings, all well-wrapped up in their winter overcoats of straw. When she commented on them, Vladimir said prosaically that they would be useful for firewood if the Fortress ever had to stand a siege.
After luncheon, Vladimir took his guests across the great courtyard to the Petropavlovsky Cathedral in the heart of the Fortress. There was a great deal of activity going on, with groups of soldiers drilling, and a squad unloading stores from some carts. Count Alexei and Fedor lingered to watch the drill while Vladimir took the ladies inside the Cathedral.
Tanya thought it a very curious building. The outside was extremely plain, with only a few Baroque curves to soften its very foursquare, boxlike appearance, and they looked as if they had been stuck on as an afterthought. There were very large windows set between heavy pilasters and large areas of plain wall. Vladimir, who had read up the subject for the occasion, said that originally it had been much more ornate, but most of the decoration had been removed during Catherine the Great's time, when the tower was struck by lightning and fell, bringing down most of the roof and necessitating extensive repairs. The new tower and spire seemed immensely and disproportionately high at close quarters, but made a fine effect from across the river.
Inside, the first impression was of too much daylight for a church, for the large windows admitted far more of it than was usual in an Orthodox building. The crystal chandeliers also looked odd, being more suitable for a ballroom, but the iconostasis, a great gilded affair, apparently suspended from the roof by golden ropes grasped by flying cherubs, was the finest Tanya had so far seen.
In front of it, lay the tombs of all the Emperors since Peter the Great, each surrounded by iron railings, and Tanya noticed that they were all the same length, and wondered how Peter had been fitted in, as he was more than six and a half feet tall.
When they left the Cathedral Vladimir took them across to the Mint, on the opposite side of the courtyard, and they watched the processes of melting, shaping and stamping the coins for a while, and Vladimir gave Tanya one of the little souvenir medals which were made there for visitors.
By then it was time to return home to dine, and dress for a ball at the Princess Voronzova's. Vladimir escorted them back to the carriage, and when Tanya thanked him for a very pleasant afternoon, he looked decidedly wooden-faced and replied, "Great pleasure. Don't often see a pretty girl here," which Tanya found rather touching.
The ball was a disappointment. The palace in which it was held was very fine, the music was lively and melodious, the guests animated and beautiful to look at, and Tanya was engaged for almost every dance, but somehow she felt that it was not as it should have been. It seemed that she spent the entire evening expecting to start feeling enjoyment at any moment, but never actually doing so, and when the time came to go home she felt rather cheated, as if the curtain had come down on a play before the actors had time to say anything.
She knew very well why, but told herself repeatedly that it couldn't, mustn't be because Prince Nikolai had failed to appear. Over and over again, she caught herself looking expectantly towards the door of the ballroom, only to see someone else come in, and each time the evening seemed to become a little flatter and duller.
It was not until quite late that Boris remarked casually as they were dancing together, "It's a pity Nikolai couldn't come."
“Is he on duty, or whatever you call it?" Tanya enquired.
“In attendance. No – haven't you heard? No, I suppose you couldn't. The Emperor gives a luncheon for the Cadet Corps at Epiphany, and reviews them afterwards in the ballroom. Two of the little devils were a bit over-excited, I suppose, and afterwards one chased the other down a corridor on the ground floor. He came tearing round a corner like a thunderbolt, straight into Nikolai, and caught him in his damaged side. He was completely done up, and Alexander Pavlovich sent him home to rest."
“Is . . . is he all right?" Tanya asked, her face showing her concern.
“I expect so," Boris replied. "His man, Pyotr, knows what to do for him. He'll be up and about again tomorrow, I shouldn't wonder," and then, seeing Tanya still looked anxious, added, "It quite often happens," which was apparently meant to be reassuring.
Boris was right, for Prince Nikolai called on the Kirovs the next afternoon and found the ladies in Countess Maria's sitting-room, leafing through several of those invaluable little books of etiquette which help to smooth the path of a person in society. The gentlemen, it appeared, had gone out, Fedor to ride and Count Alexei to his club.