Court Counsellor nodded in approval and put the newspaper down.
'The Governor-General is so angry with the Jack of Spades that he has sanctioned the holding of a b-ball and will take part in this performance himself. I believe he will actually quite enjoy it. For the "Shakh-Sultan" they have issued us a faceted beryl from the mineralogical collection of Moscow University. It is impossible to distinguish it from an emerald without a special magnifying glass, and we are not likely to allow anyone to inspect our turban through a special magnifying glass, are we, Tulipov?'
Erast Petrovich opened a hat box and took out a white brocade turban with an absolutely immense green stone and turned it this way and that, so that the facets glinted blindingly.
Anisii smacked his lips together admiringly - the turban really was a joy to behold. 'But where are we going to get Zukhra from? And that secretary - what's his name - Tarik-bei. Who's going to be them?'
The Chief looked at his assistant with something between reproach and pity, and Anisii suddenly understood. 'No, how could you?' he gasped. 'Erast Petrovich, have mercy! What kind of Indian would I make! I'll never agree, not even to save my life!'
'I think we can assume that you will agree, Tulipov,' sighed Fandorin, 'but Masa will require a little more persuasion. He's not likely to find the role of an old wet-nurse to his liking
On the evening of 18 February the whole of Moscow high society really did convene at the Assembly of Nobles. In the jolly, devil-may-care atmosphere of Pancake Week, the people of the city weary after the long, cold winter, celebrated almost every day, but the organisers of today's festivities had made a really special effort. The snow-white staircase of the palace was entirely covered in flowers, the footmen in powdered wigs and pistachio camisoles positively flung themselves at people to catch the fur coats and cloaks as they slipped off the ladies' and gentlemen's shoulders, and from the dining room there came the alluring tinkle of crystal and silver as the tables were laid for the banquet.
In his role as host of the ball, the Lord of Moscow, Prince Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi, was smart and fresh, genial with the men and gallant with the ladies. However, the genuine centre of gravity in the marble hall today was not the Governor-General but his Indian guest.
Everyone took a great liking to Ahmad-Khan, especially the ladies, young and old. The nabob was wearing black tails and a white tie, but his head was crowned by a white turban with a quite immense emerald. The oriental prince's jet-black beard was trimmed in the latest French fashion and his brows were pointed arches, but the most impressive features of his swarthy face were the bright-blue eyes (it had already been ascertained that His Majesty's mother was French).
Standing modestly slightly behind and to one side of him was the prince's secretary, who also attracted no small attention. Tarik-bei was not as handsome as his master, and his figure was not very impressive, but on the other hand, unlike Ahmad-Khan, he had come to the ball in genuine eastern costume: an embroidered robe, white shalwars or loose trousers and golden slippers with curving, pointed toes and open backs. It was a pity that the secretary did not speak a single civilised language and his only reply to all questions and greetings was to press his hand either to his heart or to his forehead and give a low bow.
All in all, the two Indians were quite wonderfully fine.
Anisii, who had not hitherto been unduly spoiled by the attentions of the fair sex, froze completely rigid on finding himself at the centre of a bevy of beauties. The young ladies twittered gaily, discussing the details of his costume without the slightest embarrassment, and one, the extremely pretty Georgian Princess Sofiko Chkhartishvili, even called Tulipov 'a lovely little Moor'. A phrase that was often repeated was 'poor thing', which set Anisii
'The Governor-General is so angry with the Jack of Spades that he has sanctioned the holding of a b-ball and will take part in this performance himself. I believe he will actually quite enjoy it. For the "Shakh-Sultan" they have issued us a faceted beryl from the mineralogical collection of Moscow University. It is impossible to distinguish it from an emerald without a special magnifying glass, and we are not likely to allow anyone to inspect our turban through a special magnifying glass, are we, Tulipov?'
Erast Petrovich opened a hat box and took out a white brocade turban with an absolutely immense green stone and turned it this way and that, so that the facets glinted blindingly.
Anisii smacked his lips together admiringly - the turban really was a joy to behold. 'But where are we going to get Zukhra from? And that secretary - what's his name - Tarik-bei. Who's going to be them?'
The Chief looked at his assistant with something between reproach and pity, and Anisii suddenly understood. 'No, how could you?' he gasped. 'Erast Petrovich, have mercy! What kind of Indian would I make! I'll never agree, not even to save my life!'
'I think we can assume that you will agree, Tulipov,' sighed Fandorin, 'but Masa will require a little more persuasion. He's not likely to find the role of an old wet-nurse to his liking
On the evening of 18 February the whole of Moscow high society really did convene at the Assembly of Nobles. In the jolly, devil-may-care atmosphere of Pancake Week, the people of the city weary after the long, cold winter, celebrated almost every day, but the organisers of today's festivities had made a really special effort. The snow-white staircase of the palace was entirely covered in flowers, the footmen in powdered wigs and pistachio camisoles positively flung themselves at people to catch the fur coats and cloaks as they slipped off the ladies' and gentlemen's shoulders, and from the dining room there came the alluring tinkle of crystal and silver as the tables were laid for the banquet.
In his role as host of the ball, the Lord of Moscow, Prince Vladimir Andreevich Dolgorukoi, was smart and fresh, genial with the men and gallant with the ladies. However, the genuine centre of gravity in the marble hall today was not the Governor-General but his Indian guest.
Everyone took a great liking to Ahmad-Khan, especially the ladies, young and old. The nabob was wearing black tails and a white tie, but his head was crowned by a white turban with a quite immense emerald. The oriental prince's jet-black beard was trimmed in the latest French fashion and his brows were pointed arches, but the most impressive features of his swarthy face were the bright-blue eyes (it had already been ascertained that His Majesty's mother was French).
Standing modestly slightly behind and to one side of him was the prince's secretary, who also attracted no small attention. Tarik-bei was not as handsome as his master, and his figure was not very impressive, but on the other hand, unlike Ahmad-Khan, he had come to the ball in genuine eastern costume: an embroidered robe, white shalwars or loose trousers and golden slippers with curving, pointed toes and open backs. It was a pity that the secretary did not speak a single civilised language and his only reply to all questions and greetings was to press his hand either to his heart or to his forehead and give a low bow.
All in all, the two Indians were quite wonderfully fine.
Anisii, who had not hitherto been unduly spoiled by the attentions of the fair sex, froze completely rigid on finding himself at the centre of a bevy of beauties. The young ladies twittered gaily, discussing the details of his costume without the slightest embarrassment, and one, the extremely pretty Georgian Princess Sofiko Chkhartishvili, even called Tulipov 'a lovely little Moor'. A phrase that was often repeated was 'poor thing', which set Anisii
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