Peter glanced at her, baffled; his vanity was soothed by this ignorant creature’s perfect faith; his pride began to rise against this dread and envy of the threatening figure of the unknown young King.
“Yes, I am the Czar,” he said sullenly, “and I can put a million men into the field for his every thousand, and if they are not as good soldiers I can knout them into being so.”
With that he turned into the garden, and his tall figure was immediately lost in the darkness filled with the sound of the waving sumach boughs.
Marpha gazed thoughtfully at the open window; her hands that were white and smooth, but thick and strong, the hands of a peasant, played with her heavy jeweled breastplate.
Prince Mentchikoff entered from the hall where he had been waiting behind the open door.
“What do you think of him?” asked Mentchikoff eagerly.
“Not that only--he is a hero and a genius,” said Mentchikoff, with passionate enthusiasm. “He is creating a new Russia.”
“I understand none of these things,” replied Marpha. “The world seems to me very well as it is--but I like Peter Alexievitch.”
“Then--if you can--make him happy--keep him cheerful,” said Mentchikoff; “in many ways his life is barren.”
The girl looked at him with those clear eyes that were full of an almost startling sincerity and truth.
“Then you are tired of me, Danilovitch Mentchikoff, and wish to hand me to your master?”
He returned her look frankly; both were of the same class, one by talent, the other by beauty elevated to these surroundings of royal luxury; she had been little better than a camp follower and he was from the gutter; neither was disguised to the other by their present splendor and the pomp of their surroundings; both held their positions by the frail tenure of another person’s favor--he by that of the Czar, she by his; for the powerful Prince was, after all, but a dependent on the favor of Peter, as the peasant girl was dependent on the caprice of Mentchikoff.
The two adventurers looked at each other keenly and there was a laugh between them; hers was wholly indifferent, perhaps heartless, his was gay and confident, for she cared for no creature but herself, nor ever would, while his least thought and meanest action was ennobled by his love for his master.