'Get dressed the same as we are.'
The blacksmith was just pulling on a green jacket when the door suddenly opened, and a man with gold braid came in and said it was time to go.
Again it seemed a marvel to the blacksmith, as he raced along in the huge carriage rocking on its springs, when four-storied houses raced backward past him on both sides, and the street, rumbling, seemed to roll under the horses' hooves.
'My God, what light!' the blacksmith thought to himself. 'Back home it's not so bright at noontime.'
The carriages stopped in front of the palace. The Cossacks got out, went into the magnificent front hall, and started up the brilliantly lit stairway.
'What a stairway!' the blacksmith whispered to himself. 'It's a pity to trample it underfoot. Such ornaments! See, and they say it's all tall tales! the devil it's tall tales! my God, what a banister! such workmanship! it's fifty roubles' worth of iron alone.'
After climbing the stairs, the Cossacks passed through the first hall. The blacksmith followed them timidly, afraid of slipping on the parquet floor at every step. They passed through three halls, and the blacksmith still couldn't stop being amazed. On entering the fourth, he inadvertently went up to a painting that hung on the wall. It was of the most pure Virgin with the Child in her arms. 'What a painting! what wonderful art!' he thought. 'It seems to be speaking! it seems alive! And the holy Child! He clasps his little hands and smiles, poor thing! And the colors! oh, my God, what colors! I bet there's not a kopeck's worth of ochre; it's all verdigris and crimson, and the blue is so bright! Great workmanship! and the ground must have been done in white lead. But, astonishing as the painting is, this brass handle,' he went on, going up to the door and feeling the latch, 'is worthy of still greater astonishment. What perfect finish! I bet German blacksmiths made it all, and for a very dear price…'
The blacksmith would probably have gone on reasoning for a long time, if a lackey with galloons hadn't nudged his arm, reminding him not to lag behind. The Cossacks passed through two more halls and stopped. Here they were told to wait. In the hall there was a group of generals in gold-embroidered uniforms. The Cossacks bowed on all sides and stood in a cluster.
A minute later a rather stout man of majestic height, wearing a hetman's 8 uniform and yellow boots, came in, accompanied by a whole retinue. His hair was disheveled, one eye was slightly askew, his face showed a certain haughty grandeur, all his movements betrayed a habit of command. The generals who had all been pacing up and down quite arrogantly in their golden uniforms began bustling about and bowing low and seemed to hang on his every word and even his slightest gesture, so as to rush at once and fulfill it. But the hetman did not pay any attention, barely nodded his head, and went up to the Cossacks.
The Cossacks all gave a low bow.
'Are you all here?' he asked with a drawl, pronouncing the words slightly through his nose.
'All here, father!' the Cossacks replied, bowing again.
'You won't forget to speak the way I taught you?'
'No, father, we won't forget.'
'Is that the tsar?' the blacksmith asked one of the Cossacks.
'Tsar, nothing! it's Potemkin 9 himself,' the man replied.
Voices came from the other room, and the blacksmith did not know where to look from the multitude of ladies entering in satin dresses with long trains and the courtiers in gold-embroidered caftans and with queues behind. He saw only splendor and nothing more. Suddenly the Cossacks all fell to the ground and cried out in one voice:
'Have mercy, mother, have mercy!'
The blacksmith, seeing nothing, also zealously prostrated himself on the floor.
'Get up!' a voice imperious and at the same time pleasant sounded above them. Some of the courtiers bustled about and nudged the Cossacks.
'We won't get up, mother! we won't! we'd rather die than get up!' the Cossacks cried.
Potemkin was biting his lips. Finally he went over himself and whispered commandingly to one of the Cossacks. They got up.
Here the blacksmith also ventured to raise his head and saw standing before him a woman of small stature, even somewhat portly, powdered, with blue eyes, and with that majestically smiling air which knew so well how to make all obey and could belong only to a woman who reigns.
'His Highness promised to acquaint me today with one of my peoples whom I have not yet seen,' the lady with the blue eyes said as she studied the Cossacks with curiosity. 'Are you being kept well here?' she continued, coming nearer.
'Thank you, mother! The victuals are good, though the lamb hereabouts is not at all like in our Zaporozhye-but why not take what comes?…'
Potemkin winced, seeing that the Cossacks were saying something completely different from what he had taught them…
One of the Cossacks, assuming an air of dignity, stepped forward:
'Have mercy, mother! Why would you ruin loyal people? How have we angered you? Have we joined hands with the foul Tartar? Have we made any agreements with the Turk? Have we betrayed you in deed or in thought? Why, then, the disgrace? First we heard that you had ordered fortresses built everywhere for protection against us; then we heard that you wanted to turn us into carabinieri 10; now we hear of new calamities. In what is the Zaporozhye army at fault? that it brought your troops across the Perekop and helped your generals to cut down the Crimeans? …' 11
Potemkin kept silent and with a small brush casually cleaned the diamonds that studded his hands.
'What, then, do you want?' Catherine asked solicitously.
The Cossacks looked meaningly at one another.
