A Hero of Our Time - Mikhail IUr'evich Lermontov [55]
“No sooner said than done,” the obliging captain replied and went off to the other room.
I then walked up to the princess, and invited her to waltz, employing the liberal local customs, which allow one to dance with unfamiliar ladies.
She could barely prevent herself from smiling and hiding her sense of triumph. She succeeded, however, quickly enough in striking a pose of complete indifference, even severity: she carelessly extended a hand to my shoulder, bending her head slightly to the side, and we were off. I haven’t known a more voluptuous and supple waist! Her fresh breath touched my face; occasionally a ringlet, which had come loose from its friends in the whirlwind of the waltz, slipped across my hot cheek . . . I did three circuits. (She waltzes surprisingly well.) She was out of breath, her eyes had grown dim, and her half-opened lips could barely whisper the obligatory: “Merci Monsieur.”
After a few minutes of silence, I said to her, with a very humble air:
“I have heard, princess, that though completely unacquainted with you, I already have the unhappiness of having earned your disfavor . . . that you found me to be audacious . . . is it true?”
“And would you now like to confirm that opinion for me?” she replied with an ironic grimace, which, however, well suited her animated physiognomy.
“If I have had the audacity to offend you somehow, then let me have the even greater audacity to beg your forgiveness . . . And, really, I would very much like to prove to you that you are mistaken with regard to me . . .”
“That will be very difficult for you . . .”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t visit us, and these balls, likely, will not be repeated very often.”
This means, I thought, that their doors are forever closed to me.
“Do you know, princess,” I said with a certain vexation, “one must never reject a penitent criminal: he might do something doubly criminal out of despair . . . and then . . .”
A guffaw and whispering in the people surrounding us forced me to turn and cut short my sentence. Several paces away from me stood a group of men, and in their number was the dragoon captain, who had just expressed hostile intentions toward the charming princess. He was especially pleased with something; he was rubbing hands, guffawing, and winking at his friends. Suddenly a gentleman in a frock coat with a long mustache and a flushed face separated from among them, and directed his unsure steps straight for the princess: he was drunk. Stopping in front of the embarrassed princess and putting his hand behind his back, he fixed his cloudy gray eyes on her and pronounced in a wheezy descant:
“Permetay . . . oh now what is it!? . . . Essentially, I’m reserving you for the mazurka . . .”
“What can I do for you?” uttered the princess in a trembling voice, throwing a pleading look around. Alas! Her mother was far away, and none of her friendly cavaliers were nearby; one adjutant, it seems, saw all this and hid behind the crowd, in order not to be caught up in the story.
“What?” said the drunken gentleman, winking at the dragoon captain, who was encouraging him with his gestures. “Aren’t you game? . . . Then I again request the honor of engaging you for the mazurka . . . Maybe you think I’m drunk? No matter! . . . I can assure you it feels a lot more free that way . . .”
I saw that she was ready to faint out of fright and indignation.
I walked up to the drunk gentleman, grabbed him rather firmly by the arm, and, looking at him squarely in the eyes, requested him to move off. “Because,” I added, “the princess long ago promised the mazurka to me.”
“Well, what of it! . . . Another time!” he said, laughing, and withdrew toward his ashamed friends, who immediately led him off to the other room.
I was rewarded with a deep and miraculous look.
The princess walked up to her mother and told her everything, and the latter sought me in the crowd and thanked me. She declared to me that she knew my mother and was friendly with a half dozen of my aunts.
“I don’t know how it has happened that we haven’t met before