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                                       MOSCOW

                       A STORY OF THE FRENCH INVASION OF 1812

                                   BY FRED WHISHAW

     AUTHOR OF "LOVERS AT FAULT," "THE TIGER OF MUSCOVY," "A GRAND
     DUKE OF RUSSIA," ETC.

     LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
     39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
     NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
     1905




MOSCOW.




CHAPTER I.


With a great jangling of sleigh-bells and much shouting from his
driver, who addressed the three horses by every epithet both endearing
and abusive that his vocabulary could provide, Count Maximof drove
into the yard of his nearest neighbour, the Boyar Demidof. The visit
was expected, for Maximof had sent a messenger to give warning of his
approach and to notify the boyar of the object of his coming. The Count
was accompanied by his wife, Avdotia, and his son, a child of ten
years, as well as by the priest of the district who had been picked up
_en route_ at his own village. The child Alexander, commonly called
Sasha, sat by the driver, a young serf of surly appearance and manners,
while the three elders occupied--as best they could--the cushioned seat
behind. This was designed to hold two with moderate comfort, so that
the two outside passengers now fared indifferently, but the middle one,
who was the Count, was comfortable enough.

Demidof, with his wife, met the party at the threshold of his house,
greeting them with voluble and exaggerated expressions of welcome, after
the manner of Russian hosts of his day, which was about one hundred
years ago.

"You see I have brought him," said Maximof; "make your bow, Sasha, and
ask after the health of your _nevyesta_ (bride)."

Sasha advanced shyly. "I hope Mademoiselle Vera Danilovna is well?" he
said, glibly enough.

"She is well and waiting anxiously to embrace her fiance," said Demidof,
laughing. "Go into the salon on the right and you will find her--what?
You have a present for her--a doll--that is delightful; she will love
you from the very beginning. That is the door."

Sasha disappeared in the direction indicated.

"The notary is here," continued Demidof. "We can complete the legal
part of the matter immediately; after which you, Father Nicholas, shall
perform your share of the ceremony."

Parents, priest and notary now proceeded to the business of the
occasion, which was the betrothal of Alexander Maximof, aged ten,
to Vera Demidof, who numbered seven summers, and the signing of the
contract of betrothal. When this latter document had been read over and
approved and signed by all present, the two persons chiefly concerned in
the matter were summoned for the religious ceremony; little Vera came
hugging her doll, while Sasha was arrayed in a tiny Lancer uniform, the
gift of his bride-to-be.

The priest recited certain prayers and injunctions to which the
principals paid scant attention; and, the ceremony ended, all sat down
to dinner. At this function there were many servants, serfs of the
estate, to wait upon the feasters; the food was good and plentiful,
but badly cooked, the wine plentiful also, but indifferent, and the
plates and dishes were filthy. Civilisation had not as yet reached a
high standard in the Russia of that day, when, even in the best houses,
though the furniture might be gorgeously gilt, it stood in dust and
dirt; where men- and women-servants slept in the passages which were
not aired during the day; where there were no arrangements for personal
ablutions, and ventilation and sanitation were arts as yet undiscovered
and undreamed of.

The two mothers gushed over their children, who chattered and
played together quite unconcerned to think of the serious nature of
the function in which they had this day taken a chief part. It was
a beautiful thing, Countess Maximof observed, to see innocent love
actually in the birth, as at this moment. The fathers drank heavily and
made boisterous jokes at which all present laughed aloud, including the
servants and his reverence the priest, who drank as hard as any and gave
no sign of displeasure when the humour of the two manor-lords surpassed
in its vulgarity even the wide margin which, in those days of much
breadth in such matters, was considered permissible.

More than once Demidof rose to chastise some unfortunate serf who had in
some manner displeased him. Neither of the gentlemen hesitated to use
language towards the servants, whether male or female, too outrageous to
be imagined, far less quoted, applying names and epithets of the most
unsavoury and insulting nature.

"You are too kind and gentle with your fellows," said Maximof, who was,
even in those dark days of tyrannous and brutal manor-lords, a noted
bully towards his serfs, and was hated by them in consequence even more
bitterly