VI

In those same fatal hours Arkadie, too, was being beguiled into an equally fatal action.

The Count’s brother arrived from his estate to present himself to the Emperor. He was even uglier than the Count. He had lived long in the country and had never put on a uniform or shaved, because “his whole face had grown covered with furrows and protuberances.” Now on such a special occasion it was obligatory to appear in uniform, to put one’s whole person in order, and produce the military expression that was required for full dress.

And much was required.

“People now do not understand how strict one was in those days,” said Nurse. “Formality was observed in every thing then, and there was a form for the faces of important personages as well as for the way their hair was dressed, which was for some terribly unbecoming. If their hair was dressed in the formal way, with a high top-knot and roundlets of curls, the whole face would look like a peasant’s balalaika without strings. Important personages were horribly afraid of this appearance. To avoid it much depended on the masterly way in which the hair was cut, and in which they were shaved – how the space was left between the whiskers and the moustaches and how the curls were formed, and where they were combed out – and from this – from the slightest trifle the whole expression of the face could be changed.”

For civilians, according to Nurse, it was not so difficult, because they were not subjected to such close scrutiny. From them only meekness was required, but from the military more was demanded – before their superiors they had to appear meek – but before everybody else they had to look fierce and stern.

“This is just what Arkadie, with his wonderful art, knew how to impart to the Count’s ugly and insignificant face.”

VII

The brother from the country was much uglier than the town Count, and besides, in the country, he had become quite “shaggy” and had “let such coarseness find its way into his face,” that he himself was conscious of it, but there was nobody who could trim him because being stingy in every way he had sent his own hairdresser to Moscow into service, and even if he had not done so the face of the younger Count was covered with pimples, so that it was impossible to shave him without cutting him all over.

When he arrived in Orel he sent for the town barbers and said to them:

“To the one who can make me look like my brother, the Count Kamensky, I will give two gold pieces, but for him who cuts me, I have placed two pistols here on the table. If it is well done he may take the gold and depart – but if even one little pimple is cut, or if the whiskers are trimmed a hair’s-breadth wrong – I will kill him on the spot.”

But this was only to frighten them, as the pistols were only charged with blank cartridges.

At that time there were but few barbers in Orel, and even they only went about the public baths with basins applying cups and leeches, and possessed neither taste nor imagination. They knew it and refused to “transform” Kamensky. “The devil take you,” they thought, “both you and your gold.”

“We can’t do what you require,” they said, “because we are unworthy to touch such a personage, nor have we the proper razors. We have only common Russian razors, and for your Excellency’s face English razors are wanted. It is only the Count’s Arkadie who could do it.”

The Count ordered the barbers to be kicked out, and they were pleased to have got away so easily. Then he drove to his elder brother’s and said:

“Now listen to me, brother! I have come to ask you a great favour. Lend me your Arkadie before evening, to trim me properly and get me into a presentable condition. It is a long time since I shaved, and your town barbers don’t know how to do it.”

The Count answered his brother:

“The town barbers are naturally not worth anything. I did not know there were any, because even my dogs are shorn by my own hairdressers. As for your request, you are asking me for an impossibility, for I have sworn, that as long as I live, Arkadie shall not dress anybody but me. Do you think I can break my word before my own slaves?”

The other answered:

“Why not? You have laid down the law, you may change it.”

The Count, our master, replied that for him such reasoning was strange.

“If I began to act in that way, I should never be able to demand anything more from my people. Arkadie has been told, that such is my decree, and all know it, and for that reason he is better kept than the others, but if he ever dare to apply his art to anybody but me – I will have him thrashed to death and send him as a soldier.”

“One or the other,” his brother said. “Either thrash him to death or send him as a soldier; you can’t do both.”

“Very well,” answered the Count, let it be as you wish. He shall not be thrashed to death, but almost to death, and then he shall be sent as a soldier.”

“Is that your last word, brother?”

“Yes, that is my last word.”

“Is this the only reason?”

“Yes, the only one.”

“Well, in that case it is all right. I was beginning to think that your brother was worth less to you than a village serf. You need not break your word, simply send Arkadie to me to shave my poodle. Once there it will be my affair to see what he does.”

It was awkward for the Count to refuse this.

“Very well,” he said, “I will send him to shave the poodle.”

“Well, that’s all I want.”

He pressed the Count’s hand and drove away.

VIII

It was at the hour of twilight before the winter evening had set in, when they were lighting up, that the Count summoned Arkadie and said:

“Go to my brother’s house and shave his poodle.”

“Is that all I shall have to do?” asked Arkadie.

“Nothing more,” said the Count, “but return quickly to dress the hair of the actresses. Lyubov must be made up for three different parts, and after the performance, present her to me as St. Cecilia.”

Arkadie staggered.

“What is the matter with you?” the Count asked.

“Pardon me,” Arkadie answered, “I slipped on the carpet.”

“Take care,” remarked the Count, “that bodes no good!”

But to Arkadie’s sinking heart it was all the same if the omen were good or bad.

After the order to adorn me as St. Cecilia was given, he could hear and see nothing; he took up his leather case of implements and went out.

IX

He came to the Count’s brother, who had already had candles lighted at the mirror, and again two pistols were placed side by side, but this time there were not two, but ten gold pieces laid beside them, and the pistols were not charged with blank cartridges but with Circassian bullets.

The Count’s brother said:

“I have no poodle, but this is what I require: make my toilet and give me the most audacious mien and you shall receive ten gold pieces, but if you cut me I will kill you.”

Arkadie stared before him, and stared at the gold, and then God only knows, what happened to him – he began to shave the Count’s brother and trim his hair. In a few moments he had transformed him in his best style, then he slipped the gold into his pocket and said:

“Good-bye!”

“Go,” answered the Count’s brother, “but first I would like to know why you are so desperate. Why did you decide to do it?”

Arkadie answered:

“Why I decided is the profoundest secret of my soul.”

“Or perhaps you are charmed against bullets, and therefore are not afraid of pistols.”

“Pistols are trifles,” answered Arkadie, “I did not even think of them.”

“How so? Is it possible that you dared to think your Count’s word is more sacred than mine, and that I would not have shot you if you had cut me? If you are not charmed, you would have lost your life.”

At the mention of the Count, Arkadie staggered again, and said as if half in a dream:

“I am not charmed against bullets, but God has given me sense. Before you had had time to take the pistol in your hand to shoot me, I would have cut your throat with the razor.”

With that he rushed out of the house and returned to the theatre, just in time to dress my hair. He was trembling all over. As he arranged each curl he bent over me to blow it into its place, and always whispered the same words in my ear:

“Don’t be afraid, I will carry you off.”

X

The performance went off well, because we were all as if made of stone; inured to fear and to suffering: whatever was in our hearts we had to act so that nothing should be noticed.

From the stage we could see the Count and his brother – they looked just alike. When they came behind the scenes it was difficult to distinguish the one from the other. Only our Count was quite quiet, as if he had become kind. He was always so before the greatest ferocity.

We all were stupified and crossed ourselves:

“Lord have mercy, and save us! Upon whom will his brutality fall this time?”

We did not know as yet of Arkadie’s mad act of desperation, nor what he had done, but Arkadie himself knew that he would not be pardoned, and he was pale when the Count’s brother glanced at him, and mumbled something in a low voice in our Count’s ear. But I had very sharp ears, and heard what he said.

“As a brother, I give you this advice: fear him when he is shaving you with a razor!”

Our Count only smiled slightly.

I think that Arkadie heard too, because when he was making me up for the part of the Duchess in the last play he put, as he had never done before, so much powder on me, that the costumier, who was a Frenchman, began to shake it off and said:

“Trop beaucoup, trop beaucoup,” and taking a brush he flicked it away.