‘He began staging his performances a week before the opening of the season and he has exploited his monopoly right up to the hilt, to coin a phrase. The public has come pouring in, firstly because there is nowhere else for it to go, and secondly, because he has fired off in rapid succession three productions that the whole of St Petersburg spent all last season arguing about. First he put on Hamlet, then The Three Sisters, and now it’s Poor Liza. And what’s more, he announced in advance that each production is being performed just once, without any repetitions. Look at what’s happening now, on the third evening.’ The theatrical connoisseur gestured round the auditorium, which was crowded to overflowing. ‘And this also strikes an astutely cunning blow against his main competitor – the Art Theatre. This very year they were intending to astound the public with new productions of The Three Sisters and Hamlet. I assure you that after Stern any innovative interpretation will seem stale and insipid. And Poor Liza is perfectly outrageous. Neither Stanislavsky nor Yuzhin would have dared to present dramaturgical material of that nature on the modern stage. But I saw the show in St Petersburg. And I assure you, it really is something! Lointaine in the role of Liza is divine!’ The bald gentleman kissed his fingertips fruitily and an imposing diamond on one finger sparkled brightly.
He can hardly be a reviewer, Erast Petrovich thought. Where would a reviewer get a solitaire diamond weighing a dozen carats?
‘But the most interesting part is yet to come. I’m expecting a great deal from the Ark this season. After this volley of three superb absolute sell-outs, they’re taking a break from performing for a month. The cunning Stern is giving the Art Theatre, Maly Theatre and Korsh a chance to display their novelties to the public – stepping aside, as it were. After that, in October, he promises to give his own premiere, and, of course, he will lure the whole of Moscow here.’
Although Fandorin had little real understanding of theatrical practices, this seemed strange to him.
‘I b-beg your pardon, but surely the building is rented, is it not? How can a theatre exist for an entire month without any takings?’
Tsarkov winked at him cunningly.
‘The Ark can afford such a luxury. The Theatrical and Cinematographic Company has granted them fully serviced rental at a rate of one rouble a month. Oh, Stern knows how to find himself a cosy spot! In a month or six weeks they’ll prepare a completely new production, starting from scratch. No one knows what the play will be, but people are already giving fifty roubles for a good ticket for the first performance!’
‘But what do you mean, no one knows?’
‘Precisely that! A deliberately calculated effect. Tomorrow there is a meeting of the company, at which Stern will announce to the actors what play they are putting on. The day after tomorrow all the newspapers will write about it. Et voilà: the public will start waiting impatiently for the premiere. No matter what they put on. Oh, trust my intuition, dear sir. Thanks to Noah’s Ark, there is a singularly fruitful season in store for Moscow!’
This was said with sincere feeling, and Erast Petrovich glanced at the other man respectfully. Such sincere, selfless love of art could not help but inspire respect.
‘But shhhh! It’s starting. Now this will really be something – everyone will gasp,’ the theatre enthusiast chuckled. ‘Stern didn’t show them this trick in St Petersburg…’
The curtain rose. The entire stage set was concealed behind taut white fabric. It was a screen! A carriage appeared on it, drawn by four horses hurtling along at full gallop.
A combination of the cinematograph and the theatre? Intriguing, thought Erast Petrovich.
The aficionado proved to be right – a rapturous gasp ran through the orchestra stalls and tiered stalls.
‘He knows how to capture the audience from the very first moment, the cunning devil,’ Tsarkov whispered, leaning forward – and then he smacked himself on the lips, as if to say: Pardon me, I’ll keep quiet.
Pastoral music began to play and words appeared on the screen.
‘One day, towards the end of the reign of Catherine the Great, a young and brilliant guardsman was returning to his estate from his regiment…’
The production proved to be innovative in the extreme, with a host of original ideas; it made playful and at the same time philosophical use of stage scenery and costumes created by a fashionable artist, a member of the World of Art group. The brief parable about a young ingénue, who drowned herself because of her beloved’s infidelity, was fleshed out with twists and turns of the plot. Additional characters appeared, some entirely new and others hinted at in passing by Karamzin, the author of the original story. The play dealt with a passionate love that violated all the prohibitions – after all, poor Liza surrenders to her Erast without any concern for rumour or consequences. The play told the story of a woman’s self-sacrificing courage and a man’s cowardice in the face of public opinion; a story of the weakness of Good and the power of Evil. The latter was personified in a most vivid and lively manner by the rich widow (played by the actress Vulpinova) and the card sharp (played by the actor Mephistov), who is hired by her to ruin the impressionable Erast and force him into marrying for money.
Extensive use was made of the cinema screen in order to recreate historical Moscow and natural phenomena. There was a superlatively conceived scene with the ghost of Liza’s father (the actor Sensiblin), who was lit up by a blue beam of light from the projector. Also impressive were the monologue and dance performed by Death as he lured the young woman into the pond (this part was played by Mr Stern himself).
But what the audience found most astounding of all was a trick with a piece of sculpture. Almost the entire second act unfolded beside a statue of Pan, symbolising the pastoral sensuality of the love theme. After a minute or so, of course, the audience stopped paying any attention to the statue, having accepted it as an element of the stage decor. Imagine their delight when, at the end of the act, the classical deity suddenly came to life and started playing his reed-pipe!
It was the first time Erast Petrovich had seen a theatre company in which he was forced to admit that no unevenness could be detected in the quality of the acting. All the actors, even those playing the minor parts, were immaculate, and every entrance by each and every one of them was a genuine firecracker.
However, the numerous merits of the production went almost unnoticed by Fandorin. From the moment when Altairsky-Lointaine first appeared on the stage, for him the play was divided into two parts of unequal value: the scenes in which she played and the scenes in which she was not present.
The moment that delicate voice started singing its simple little song about the wild flowers of the fields, remorseless fingers seemed to squeeze the hitherto indifferent spectator’s heart. He recognised that voice! He thought he had forgotten it, but now it appeared that he had remembered it for all these years!
The figure, the walk, the turn of the head – everything was exactly the same!
‘Pardon me…’
Fandorin turned round and almost tore the field glasses out of the cornet’s hand by force.
The face… No, the face was different, but that expression of the eyes, that trusting smile, that anticipation of happiness and open acceptance of destiny! How could all of that be reproduced so authentically, so relentlessly? He even squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t protest when the hussar took his field glasses back, whispering angrily: