Part 7 (2/2)
A minute or two later I took an opportunity to ask the promoter the name of this ungracious officer.
”That?” my host exclaimed, looking 'round the table, ”Oh, that is Captain Va.s.sileffsky, one of our most distinguished sailors. He is a naval aide-de-camp to the Czar.”
I made a note of his name and face, being warned by a presentiment which I could not resist that I should come across him again.
The champagne now began to flow freely, and as it flowed the tongues of many of the company were unloosed by degrees. From the subject of peace the conversation pa.s.sed rapidly to the possibilities of war, and the j.a.panese were spoken of in a way that plainly showed me how little those present understood the resolution and resources of the Island Empire.
”The j.a.panese dare not fire the first shot and, since we will not, there will be no war,” declared my left-hand neighbor.
”The war will be fought in j.a.pan, not in Manchuria,” affirmed the Grand Duke with a condescending air. ”It will be a case of the Boers over again. They may give us some trouble, but we shall annex their country.”
M. Petrovitch gave me a glance of alarm.
”Russia does not wish to add to her territory,” he put in; ”but we may find it necessary to leave a few troops in Tokio to maintain order, while we pursue our civilizing mission.”
I need not recount the other remarks, equally arrogant.
Abstemious by habit, I had a particular reason for refraining from taking much wine on this night. It was already past nine o'clock, the train for Moscow, which connected there with the Siberian express, started at midnight, and I had to be at the police bureau by eleven at the latest to make the changes necessary for my disguise.
I therefore allowed my gla.s.s to remain full, merely touching it with my lips occasionally when my host pressed me to drink. M. Petrovitch did not openly notice my abstinence, but presently I heard him give an order to the butler who waited behind his chair.
The butler turned to the sideboard for a moment, and then came forward bearing a silver tray on which stood a flagon of cut-gla.s.s and silver with a number of exquisite little silver cups like egg-sh.e.l.ls.
”You will not refuse to taste our Russian national beverage, Mr.
Sterling,” the head of the War Syndicate said persuasively, as the butler began filling the tiny cups.
It was a challenge which I could not refuse without rudeness, though it struck me as rather out of place that the vodka should be offered to me before to the imperial guest on my host's right.
The butler filled two cups, M. Petrovitch taking the second from the tray as I lifted the first to my lips.
”You know our custom,” the financier exclaimed smilingly. ”No heeltaps!”
He lifted his own cup with a brave air, and I tossed off the contents of my own without stopping.
As the fiery liquor ran down my throat I was conscious of something in its taste which was unlike the flavor of any vodka I had ever drunk before. But this circ.u.mstance aroused no suspicion in my mind.
I confess that it never occurred to me that any one could be daring enough to employ so crude and dangerous a device as a drugged draft at a quasi-public banquet, given to an English peace emissary, with a member of the imperial family sitting at the board.
I was undeceived the next moment. Petrovitch, as soon as he saw that my cup had been emptied, sat down his own untasted, and, with a well-acted movement of surprise and regret, turned to the Grand Duke.
”I implore your pardon, sir. I did not ask if you would not honor me by taking the first cup!”
The Grand Duke, whom I readily acquitted of any share in the other's design, shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent air.
”If you wish your friends to drink vodka, you should not put champagne like this before us,” he said laughing.
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