‘The life you have provided us with here is like being in a magical castle!’ Noah Noaevich exclaimed. ‘It is enough to express a wish and simply clap one’s hands – and one’s dream comes true. Only in such ideal conditions is it possible to create art without being distracted by degrading and tedious fuss and bother over how to make ends meet. Let us welcome our guardian angel, my friends.’
In response to the applause and ardent exclamations from everyone present, with the sole exception of Fandorin, Mr Shustrov bowed slightly – and that was all.
After that the introductions of the actors began.
First of all Stern led their honoured guest over to the prima donna.
I can do it now, Fandorin thought, and finally allowed himself to focus entirely on the woman responsible for the agitated state in which he had been since the previous day. He knew a lot more about her today than he had known yesterday.
She was almost thirty years of age and came from a theatre family. She had graduated from the ballet department of a theatre college, but had followed a career in drama, thanks to a stage voice of astonishing depth and extremely delicate timbre. She had performed in theatres in both of Russia’s capital cities, displaying her brilliance several seasons earlier at the Art Theatre. Malicious gossips asserted that she had left because she did not wish to be on an equal footing with other strong actresses, of whom that theatre had too many. Before becoming the leading actress at Noah’s Ark, Altairsky-Lointaine had enjoyed immense success in St Petersburg with performances in the fashionable genre of recitation to musical accompaniment.
That name of hers no longer seemed excessively pretentious to Erast Petrovich. It suited her: as distant as the star Altair… At the very beginning of her career she had given a vivid performance as Princess Daydream in the play of the same name by Rostand – hence ‘Lointaine’ (in the French original the heroine is call Princess Lointaine – the Distant Princess, or Princess Faraway). The other part of her pseudonym, which emphasised her inapproachable remoteness, had appeared more recently, following her brief marriage. The newspapers had been rather vague in what they wrote about that. Her husband was an oriental prince, almost a semi-sovereign khan, and some of the articles had referred to Eliza as ‘khatun’, i.e. a khan’s wife.
Well, as he looked at her, Fandorin was willing to believe absolutely anything. A woman like that could easily be a princess and a khatun.
Although he had spent a long time preparing himself before he studied her properly at close quarters, it really didn’t do very much to soften the blow. Through the field glasses Erast Petrovich had seen her in stage make-up and, moreover, playing the part of a naive village girl. But in life, in her own natural state, Eliza was quite different – not just from her stage image, but simply different, unlike other women, unique… Fandorin would have found it hard to explain exactly how to interpret this thought that made him take a tight grip on the armrests of his chair – because he felt an irresistible urge to stand up and move closer, in order to gaze at her point blank, avidly and continuously.
What is it that’s so special about her? he asked himself, trying as usual to rationalise the irrational. Where does this feeling of unparalleled, magnetic beauty come from?
He tried to judge impartially.
After all, strictly speaking, she is no great beauty. Her features are rather too small, if anything. The proportions are not classical. A thin-lipped mouth that is too broad. A slight hump in the nose. But instead of weakening the impression of a miracle, all these irregularities merely reinforced it.
It seems to be something to do with the eyes, Erast Petrovich decided. A certain strange elusiveness that makes you to want to catch her glance, in order to resolve its mystery. It seems to be directed at you, but tangentially somehow, as if she doesn’t see you. Or as if she sees something quite different from what is being shown to her.
Fandorin was certainly not lacking in powers of observation. Even in his present, distinctly abnormal condition, he quickly solved the riddle. Madam Altairsky had a slight squint, that was all there was to the elusiveness. But then another riddle immediately popped up – her smile. Or rather, the half-smile, or incomplete smile that played almost constantly on her lips. That, apparently, is where the enchantment lies, thought Erast Petrovich, advancing a different theory. It is as if this woman is in a constant state of anticipation of happiness – she looks at you as if she were asking: ‘Are you the one I’m waiting for? Are you really my happiness?’ And a certain bashfulness could also be read in that marvellous smile. As if Liza were making a gift of herself to the world and was slightly embarrassed by her own generosity.
All in all, it must be admitted that Fandorin failed to resolve the secret of the prima donna’s attractiveness completely. He would have carried on examining her for much longer, but Shustrov had already been led on to the person beside her, and Erast Petrovich reluctantly transferred his gaze to Hippolyte Emeraldov.
Now this was a kind of beauty that Fandorin didn’t need to rack his brains over. The actor was tall and well set up, with broad shoulders, an ideal parting in his hair, a clear gaze, a blinding smile and an absolutely splendid baritone voice. A sight for sore eyes, a genuine Antinous. The newspapers wrote that he had been followed from St Petersburg to Moscow by almost fifty lovesick female theatregoers, who never missed a single performance that their idol gave and lavished flowers on him extravagantly. Stern had lured him from the Alexandrinsky Theatre for a quite incredible salary of almost a thousand roubles a month.
‘You played Hamlet and Vershinin excellently. And you have made a success of Karamzin’s Erast too,’ the patron of the arts said, shaking Emeraldov by the hand. ‘But most important of all, you a have a highly advantageous appearance that can be examined from close up. That’s important.’
The millionaire had a peculiar way of speaking. You could tell that he wouldn’t squander compliments on anyone. He said what he really thought, without taking too much trouble to make his train of thought clear to the other party.
The leading man replied with a charming smile.
‘I could have said: “Look as much as you like, there’s no charge for a peek”, but with you it’s a sin not to ask. So in that connection, I’d like to enquire whether it might not be possible after all to have a benefit performance at the end of the season.’
‘Out of the question!’ Noah Noaevich snapped. ‘The company articles of Noah’s Ark state that no one shall have any benefit performances.’
‘Not even your favourite?’ the handsome devil asked, tossing his head in the direction of Eliza, while still addressing Shustrov.
‘What an insolent individual, Fandorin thought, and frowned. Surely someone will put him in his place? And what did he mean by saying that about a favourite?