Фредерик Марриет - The Poacher; Or, Joseph Rushbrook

Two days after their arrival, the landlord procured for O’Donahue a courier who could speak both English and French as well as Russian, and almost every other language. It was resolved by O’Donahue and McShane, in council, to dress him up in a splendid uniform; and a carriage having been hired for the month, O’Donahue felt that he was in a position to present his credentials to the English ambassador and the other parties for whom he had received letters of introduction.

For 300 roubles a month, O’Donahue had procured a drosky, very handsomely fitted up; the shaft horse was a splendid trotter, and the other, a beautiful-shaped animal, capered about curving his neck, until his nose almost touched his knee, and prancing, so as to be the admiration of the passers-by. His coachman, whose name was Athenasis, had the largest beard in Saint Petersburg; Joey was the smallest tiger; Dimitri, one of the tallest and handsomest yägers. Altogether, Captain O’Donahue had laid out his money well; and on a fine, sunny day he set off to present his letters to the English ambassador and other parties. Although the letters were very short, it was quite sufficient that they were written by so distinguished and so universally beloved a person as his Royal Highness. The ambassador, Lord Saint H, immediately desired O’Donahue to consider his house open to him, requesting the pleasure of his company to dinner on the following day, and offered to present him to the Emperor at the first levee. O’Donahue took his leave, delighted with his success, and then drove to the hotel of the Princess Woronzoff, Count Nesselrode, and Prince Gallitzin, where he found himself equally well received. After his visits were all paid, O’Donahue sported his handsome equipage on the English and Russian quays, and up and down the Neffsky Perspective for an hour or two, and then returned to the hotel.

“I am very sorry,” said O’Donahue, after he had narrated to McShane all that had taken place, “that I permitted you to put yourself down on the passport as valet in the foolish way you have. You would have enjoyed yourself as much as I probably shall, and have been in your proper position in society.”

“Then I’m not sorry at all, O’Donahue, and I’ll tell you why. I should have enjoyed myself, I do not doubt—but I should have enjoyed myself too much; and, after dining with ambassadors, and princes, and counts, and all that thing—should I ever have gone back comfortable and contented to Mrs McShane, and the cook’s shop? No, no—I’m not exactly reconciled, as it is; and if I were to be drinking champagne, and ’ating French kickshaws with the Russian nobility for three or four months, dancing perhaps with princesses, and whispering in the ears of duchesses, wouldn’t my nose turn up with contempt at the beefsteak pie, and poor Mrs McShane, with all her kind smiles, look twice as corpulent as ever? No, no, I’m better here, and I’m a wise man, although I say it myself.”

“Well, perhaps you are, McShane; but still I do not like that I should be spending your money in this way without your having your share of it at least.”

“My share of it—now, O’Donahue, suppose I had come over here on my own account, where should I have been? I could not have mustered up the amiable impudence you did, to persuade the commander-in-chief to give me letters to the ambassador: nor could I have got up such a turn-out, nor have fitted the turn-out so well as you do. I should have been as stupid as an owl, just doing what I have done the whole of the blessed morning for want of your company—looking after one of the floating bridges across the river, and spitting into the stream, just to add my mite to the Baltic Sea.”

“I’m sorry you were not better amused.”

“I was amused; for I was thinking of the good-humoured face of Mrs McShane, which was much better than being in high company, and forgetting her entirely. Let me alone for amusing myself after my own fashion, O’Donahue, and that’s all I wish. I suppose you have heard nothing in your travels about your Powlish princess?”

“Of course not; it will require some tact to bring in her name—I must do it as if by mere accident.”

“Shall I ask the courier if she is an acquaintance of his?”

“An acquaintance, McShane?”

“I don’t mean on visiting terms; but if he knows anything about the family, or where they live?”

“No, McShane, I think you had better not; we do not know much of him at present. I shall dine at the ambassador’s tomorrow, and there will be a large party.”

During the day invitations for evening parties were brought in from the Prince Gallitzin and Princess Woronzoff.

“The plot thickens fast, as the saying is,” observed McShane; “you’ll be certain to meet your fair lady at some of these places.”

“That is what I trust to do,” replied O’Donahue; “if not, as soon as I’m intimate, I shall make inquiries about her; but we must first see how the land lies.”

O’Donahue dined at the ambassador’s, and went to the other parties, but did not meet with the object of his search. Being a good musician, he was much in request in so musical a society as that of Saint Petersburg. The emperor was still at his country palace, and O’Donahue had been more than a fortnight at the capital without there being an opportunity for the ambassador to present him at court.

Dimitri, the person whom O’Donahue engaged as courier, was a very clever, intelligent fellow; and as he found that O’Donahue had all the liberality of an Irishman, and was in every respect a most indulgent master, he soon had his interest at heart. Perhaps the more peculiar intimacy between O’Donahue and McShane, as a valet, assisted Dimitri in forming a good opinion of the former, as the hauteur and distance generally preserved by the English towards their domestics are very displeasing to the Continental servants, who, if permitted to be familiar, will not only serve you more faithfully, but be satisfied with more moderate wages. Dimitri spoke English and French pretty well, German and Russian of course perfectly. He was a Russian by birth, had been brought up at the Foundling Hospital, at Moscow, and therefore was not a serf. He soon became intimate with McShane: and as soon as the latter discovered that there was no intention on the part of Dimitri to be dishonest, he was satisfied, and treated him with cordiality.

“Tell your master this,” said Dimitri, “never to give his opinion on political matters before any one while in Petersburg, or he will be reported to the government, and will be looked upon with suspicion. All the servants and couriers here, indeed every third person you meet, is an agent of police.”

“Then it’s not at all unlikely that you are one yourself,” replied McShane.

“I am so,” replied Dimitri, coolly, “and all the better for your master. I shall be ordered to make my report in a few days, and I shall not fail to do so.”

“And what will they ask you?” said McShane.

“They will ask me first who and what your master is? Whether I have discovered from you, if he is of family and importance in his own country? whether he has expressed any political opinions? and whether I have discovered the real business which brought him here?”

“And what will you reply to all this?” answered McShane.

“Why, I hardly know. I wish I knew what he wishes me to say, for he is a gentleman whom I am very fond of, and that’s the truth; perhaps you can tell me?”

“Why, yes, I know a good deal about him, that’s certain. As for his family, there’s not a better in Ireland or England, for he’s royal if he had his right.”