Laces of Love, page 35
Olga Viktorovna burst into tears, and, touching her cheek, understood that it had been beautified with a bruise.
“Oh, Olga Viktorovna, my dear, you got hit too! Come, I will make you an embrocation,” Friedrich Carlovich suggested, having recovered from a fight a little.
The doctor, the cousin and the Countess went to the living room.
Olga Viktorovna tried to pull herself together, and she succeeded,
“Natasha,” she turned to her cousin, “allow me to ask where is Mr. Travers?”
Cousin smiled apologetically,
“You see, dear, while you were in Vladimir, Mr. Travers left the service, without even asking his payment for the last month.”
The countess was shocked a little,
“How? Why did he leave? And even without a salary?”
“I think, Olga Viktorovna, he couldn't bear it anymore, same as the previous tutors,” the doctor assumed, not knowing about the true reason for Mr. Travers's resignation.
“But it seemed to me that they were getting along...” the Countess objected timidly.
“This is only at first glance. Here, press it to your cheek, in a couple of days there will be no trace of a bruise,” Friedrich Carlovich wetted a napkin with a kind of a potion and handed it to the Countess.
“Thank you. Ouch! It burns!” she exclaimed.
“You will have to be patient,” said the doctor. “Forgive me my opinion, Olga Viktorovna, and try to not judge me too hard... Natalya Pavlovna will unlikely be able to tell you that,” he cleared his throat. “The truth is that young Nikolay Nikolayevich is overly capricious and cannot control his emotions, at all...”
Olga Viktorovna rounded eyes,
“And what? He is a weak and susceptible child.”
“Not at all, Your Excellency. After him falling from a horse, I, with the permission of Natalia Pavlovna, carefully examined your son, and, fortunately, did not find any diseases in him.”
“How is that possible?” the Countess was surprised.
“That's right, Olga Viktorovna. You spend too much time with Nicholas; he has completely subordinated you to his will. Just in a couple of years, he will become a home tyrant. And it is unlikely that later there will be a girl who would wish to tie her fate with him. I think your late spouse would like to see his son a strong and decisive man, able to make responsible decisions.”
Olga Viktorovna burst into tears again, realizing that the German was right.
“What should I do?”
“Get married!” blurted the cousin Natalia.
“Yes, yes! I totally agree with Natalia Pavlovna! This is the way out of this situation. And it would be good if your elect was a resolute person, say, a military man," the doctor concluded the thought.
Olga Viktorovna unwittingly remembered Sergey Lvovich and burst into tears even more: she was ashamed. What will she tell him now? It was better to admit at once that she had a son and he... had been simply unbearable.
“Here, drink this,” Friedrich Carlovich handed the soothing liquid in a bottle to the Countess.
She drank it in one gulp.
“My dear, but what about that scoundrel who beat Nikolay?” asked the cousin.
The Countess wiped her tears with a handkerchief and blew her nose.
“There is a disquisition going on. I have asked a reliable person to lead the case... He will do everything needed...”
“Olga Viktorovna, forgive me for another insolence,” the doctor began from afar. “Maybe in connection with our last conversation, you'd cancel your decision and stop the case?”
“Why would I do that?” the Countess asked, surprised.
“Are you sure that events on the train happened exactly as Mr. Travers had told you?”
Olga Viktorovna thought a second and confessed,
“No, not anymore...”
***
Chapter 11
Sergey Lvovich could not find peace ‘cause of his jealousy. He dressed, went down to the hotel lobby, and inquired at the reception,
“My dear, tell me where one can have a good time?”
“Are you, sir, interested in girls, or cards?”
Zavyalov thought a little,
“Cards...”
“Then you need to go to Mr. Zharov’s house...” and the clerk explained how to get there.
Zavyalov hired a cab with a coachman and then rode to the named address.
Mr. Zharov' s house was almost in the center of the city; gaslights lighted its entrance. About a dozen carriages were already standing near the front door. Sergey Lvovich understood: this place enjoys considerable popularity among local residents.
He entered the hallway, a prompt wardrobe keeper immediately ran up to him, taking his coat and hat.
The major entered the gambling hall, where several women, dressed with a clear call, were strolling around the card table with the poker players. It was the time of determining the right to distribute cards, according to the draw. Each player alternately tried to pick the highest card from the deck, which would give the right to deal.
The dealer took a glance at the deck, then carefully mixed the cards, face down, and gave it to his neighbor, who divided it into two. The part of the deck that was below has now moved up. Finally, the dealer dealt the cards and the game began.
The audience gathered around the table. Some of them were just curious, while the others had nothing in their pockets, so could only quench their craving for the game by watching it.
Sergey Lvovich also joined the curious crowd, not wanting to risk his money. Although, why did he come here then? Mr. Zavyalov couldn't answer this question. Most likely, to make time pass.
Suddenly a woman in a dark cherry colored dress approached him. The major felt the smell of cheap perfume and grimaced.
“Not dare to play?” she asked.
Zavyalov nodded.
The lady of doubtful origin did not give up,
“So maybe, we could play another game?” she suggested.
The man looked at the “priestess of love” more closely. She was not too young, rather, about thirty, maybe a little more; her face with a fair layer of powder and blush seemed unnatural; bright red lips beckoned, but at the same time they repelled...
Sergey Lvovich stiffly smiled,
“Maybe next time...”
The lady smiled sadly and headed for the next victim. Sergey Lvovich went to another room. He heard the words: royal flush, straight flush, four of a kind, full house, the meaning of which he could hardly recall. But it didn't really matter. After standing around the gambling table in this room, he became unbearably bored, and went to the buffet in order to have a glass of brandy.
Suddenly, Mr. Zavyalov noticed Mr. Bogolyubsky, sitting at the table with an indecently dressed woman. She was drinking champagne from a tall glass, while the servant of the law was giving her craving glances.
Sergey Lvovich turned away and had the brandy, biting on a thin slice of lemon.
“Lord, what am I doing here? The last thing I need right now is to lose money playing cards! Or should I try? When did I play last time?” he began to feverishly recall the rules of poker, the only thing that he had ever played.
Fifteen minutes later Sergey Lvovich was sitting at the playing table. Involuntarily, he felt a smell, emanating from the dark green tablecloth. It was a smell of excitement, mixed with the fear of losing and the hope of winning countless wealth.
He resolutely opened the purse, took out the banknote and put it on the bank in the middle of the table. The dealer unsealed a new deck. Finally, the cards were dealt, each of the players determined the strength of their cards and, if could, began to raise the stakes to replace a number of cards.
Sergey Lvovich played mechanically, without any hope of winning. A loss of fifty rubles was not a big deal, although, it wasn't fun either.
Suddenly, a mist covered his eyes and he heard the voice of Olga Viktorovna. “Play, but know the limit,” said the green-eyed beauty... After her words, an incredible thing happened: Zavyalov got a card that made him a winner. He took the bank of two hundred and fifty rubles.
Sergey Lvovich stayed behind the playing table, putting two hundred rubles on the bank: the stakes grew...
***
Sergey Lvovich woke up and looked around.
“I seem to be at the hotel,” he guessed. “What happened yesterday?”
His head was unbearably sore and his mouth was dry. He got up, realizing that he had been sleeping with his trousers and waistcoat on, and went to the table with a carafe of water.
Approaching the table, Sergey Lvovich was surprised,
“What's this? And where did I get this much money?” he took one of the banknotes in his hand. “Did I rob a bank yesterday? This cannot be...” With a shaking hand, Sergey Lvovich poured water into a glass, drank it in one gulp and hiccupped. “Not only they will lock me up for beating a child, they will also accuse me of theft. Oh, my... What do I do?” Suddenly it dawned on him: run! But where to?
Sergey Lvovich fell on a chair and imagined how he, chained, would go along the Vladimir Route.
Someone knocked on the door.
“They are already here... I would not be surprised if this is Mr. Bogolyubsky...”
Zavyalov opened the door.
“Sir,” the elegantly dressed visitor greeted to him. “I brought you a card debt, as promised. Here,” he took a weighty bundle of banknotes out of his plump purse. “Exactly three thousand rubles.”
As Sergey Lvovich heard such a sum, his legs buckled.
“Are you sure you are not mistaken? Do you really owe me money?” he asked.
“Absolutely, sir. You see I have the courage to remind you that the Meshchersky Princes always pay their debts...”
Zavyalov slightly hiccupped.
“Forgive me, for the sake of God... I apparently drank a lot yesterday and absolutely do not remember anything... Sorry, I don’t even remember you...”
The prince laughed.
“Not surprisingly, my dear! You took a bank of ten thousand rubles! Not everyone gets this lucky! It's worth the drink!”
Zavyalov was confused,
“Are you sure you are not mistaken, sir? Did I win that much money?” suddenly the major remembered about the pile of banknotes, completely covering the table.
“I do not have the habit of making mistakes, sir!” exclaimed Prince Meshchersky. “I wish you good health,” he bowed and left, leaving Sergey Lvovich in complete bewilderment.
“So I won't get arrested yet,” he concluded, “and that’s... good.”
***
Olga Viktorovna entered the room where Nicholas had been sleeping, snuffling evenly. She looked at him with love and crossed him with a holy sign, rejoicing to see that he was becoming more and more like her deceased husband.
The Countess sat on a chair next to the bed, not knowing what to do: a wave of memories rolled over her. She remembered her first ball; she was barely sixteen at that time. What kind of dress was she in? Olga Viktorovna clearly saw herself young, carefree, in a delicate coral ball gown and a garnet necklace. She was wonderfully pretty, fresh, slim... and thirsty for love. Of course, the appearance of young Olga Morozova at the ball of the Ryabushinsky's did not go unnoticed. On the contrary, a week later, young and not so young men visited her father in order to ask for his permission to see his daughter, having the most serious intentions.
Olga's father adhered to the old rules: the husband for his daughter should have been chosen by the parents with the only one amendment - she shouldn't feel disgusting about the elect.
The young charmer rejected all applicants for her graceful hand and ardent heart, all but one: Count Remizov. He was no longer young and was experienced in life and amorous affairs. He also had a great fortune and earned a positive reputation at the imperial court. This candidature of the groom suited both Mr. Morozov and Olga very well. The girl immediately confessed to her father that she liked the Count, and, having become better acquainted with him, she fell in love with him. Therefore, the marriage of a young Olga Morozova was held for love.
Alas, with all her love and loyalty to her husband, and with all his wealth, she did not have the main thing - the attention of her husband. Not because the count was neglecting his young wife, but because of his employment with official affairs, which had been sometimes accompanied by frequent departures to St. Petersburg, Moscow, Yekaterinburg, and even Odessa.
Now, however, the Countess was still young, having recently turned thirty, and was still beautiful and desirable. She knew it well but never used it to achieve any goals. However, now Olga Viktorovna clearly realized: if this would go on, she would lose her son, having got instead a capricious strong, tyrant who could take anyone out of patience.
The words of Friedrich Carlovich and her cousin sister about the need for marriage, before it was too late, stroke her in the very heart. She never thought about rebuilding her personal life, because the most important for her was how would Nikolenka react to this? He loved his father so much!!!
Olga Viktorovna was aware that in any case, her son would oppose her marriage. After all, what he did last year with their neighbor, the landowner Chartorizhsky! He insulted an adult man, showing the bad inclinations of his character. Olga Viktorovna involuntarily remembered Mr. Chartoryzhsky's words, “As much as you are wonderful, kind and generous, your son is absolutely unmanageable...” She was very ashamed to hear such an unflattering comment about her adored Nikolayka and was terribly offended by her neighbor... But as time passed, she realized that Mr. Chartorizhsky had been actually right.
The time to think about own life has come. Olga Viktorovna firmly decided, on arrival Vladimir, she would immediately go to Mr. Zavyalov’s room and explain to him everything, whatever it would cost!
Nikolenka fidgeted in sleep and rolled over. Olga Viktorovna bent down and kissed his cheek.
***
Sergey Lvovich stood near the table with banknotes, still not believing his eyes. Once again he looked at the table, then at three thousand rubles in his right hand, and asked himself,
“How much money do I have? Should I count it? Yes, and then go to the restaurant for breakfast!”
Mr. Zavyalov set about the difficult task: many of the banknotes were badly crumbled. He carefully smoothed them with his hand and piled them up.
“So, eight hundred... Nine hundred... One thousand... Two... Four... Eight... Ten... Indeed, exactly ten thousand rubles! And how did this happen? The truth they say: novices and fools get lucky! I'd like to think that I am not a fool, so then I am certainly a beginner, as I have never played seriously.”
Someone knocked on the door again.
“Another card debt?” Zavyalov was surprised and, just in case, covered the money with a napkin.
A messenger stood on the door, handing the government package. Zavyalov immediately remembered,
“This is from Mr. Bogolyubsky! A subpoena! Not for long I was in happy luck...”
Indeed, after reading the notice, Sergey Lvovich found out that in two days there would be a court hearing on his case. He discarded the letter in annoyance and flopped onto the sofa.
“Ahh, hell with it. Let's paint the town red!!!”
He took a bath, put on a fresh shirt, favorite striped tweed pants, a quilted house jacket, and ordered breakfast in the room.
***
Chapter 12
After a hearty breakfast, Sergey Lvovich pleasantly stretched and grunted,
“Well, my miserable life! What will you present to me today? Another card debt of three thousand rubles? Or will the door suddenly open and she will appear?”
By saying “she” Sergey Lvovich meant unpredictable Olga Viktorovna, who so suddenly disappeared after the passionate night of love. Where was she right now? With whom? Who caressed her divine body?
Zavyalov felt that just thinking about this woman made him lose composure and ready for any madness. Finally, he decided to go down to the hotel lobby and speak to the receptionist.
“Excuse me, did Olga Viktorovna from room fifteen checked out?”
The receptionist smiled understandingly and looked at the registration book,
“No, sir, the number is still under her name.”
“Thank you...”
Sergey Lvovich hoped to see green-eyed Olga again and... decided to make a stunning, expensive gift for her. He just got a lot of money now, so he had to spend it somewhere!
“My dear,” he again turned to the receptionist, “is there a good jewelry store in the city?”
“Certainly, sir! That would be the jewelry shop of Mr. Jablonsky! He has beautiful things. To be honest, I saw them only through the shop window, as, unfortunately, cannot afford any of those, but I assure you: all of Vladimir elite buys various jewelries from him.”
Sergey Lvovich thought for a moment.
“Perhaps it suits me!”
He went upstairs to his room, changed his clothes, knotted a silk scarf in the latest fashion of the capital, and went to get a gift for Olga Viktorovna.
Mr. Yablonsky's shop was not far from the "Renaissance". Zavyalov immediately appreciated the respectability of the chosen establishment: there were two strong-looking security guards at the entrance, and breathtaking necklaces, shining in the September sun, were visible in the windows.
Sergey Lvovich gathered his courage and got out of the carriage, he had never visited such shops due to the absence of sufficient funds. He headed for the entrance with vigilant security guards.
When they saw a decent man, who seemed to be very wealthy, they opened the door for Mr. Zavyalov. When he entered inside, he had a feeling that he got into Ali Baba’s cave, filled to the brim with unseen treasures.
Sergey Lvovich approached one of the shop windows with various types and sizes of rings, adorned with all sorts of gems. He looked at prices that ranged from five hundred rubles to five thousand.
