Golden Paradise

charming in a four-year-old. 'And everything would be much nicer. Stefan could come home from that ridiculous war and we could begin making marriage plans.'

'If you'd like to write Stefan a note suggesting that, it seems sensible to me,' Militza said, her face as bland as her tone. 'I could have a groom deliver it to him.'

'Mama, the macaroons are gone,' Nadejda noted fretfully. Then, as if Stefan's future were secondary to her sweet tooth, she added, 'I'll drop him a note on the subject before we leave.'

'You're leaving?' Militza could have been on a treaty negotiating team for all her understatement and calm.

'Tomorrow or possibly the next day,' Irina interposed. 'Poor Nadejda is bored so far from Saint Petersburg, and I confess-' she smiled artificially '-although Tiflis is enchanting, I miss the stimulation of court.'

What she meant was that she feared being away too long from the machinations of court politics. Stefan would also appreciate Nadejda's boredom with his native city. Militza dearly hoped Nadejda would include in her note an indication of her feelings on that subject, as well. 'My wishes then for a pleasant journey,' she said cheerfully. She chose not to mention she'd be following soon. Once Stefan actually returned to Kars, she also intended a trip to Saint Petersburg.

Leaving the Viceroy's palace after tea, Militza felt her years and, in the logical assessment of things, despaired whether she'd be successful in dislodging Nadejda as Stefan's fiancee. Her nephew was stubborn at times in his wishes and he hadn't lightly undertaken his choice of bride. His selection hadn't been whimsical but rather utilitarian, and her hope of discrediting Nadejda was minimized by that judgment. Stefan had made clear to her that the question of liking Nadejda was incidental to the usefulness of her family. Vladimir Taneiev controlled many of the ministers of state, although the army had always remained independent. It was actually Vladimir that Stefan was marrying and the power he wielded in the inner circles of government.

Tsar Alexander spent less and less time in the daily activities of government now that his young mistress and their three children were actually installed in the palace only a floor below his consumptive wife. Rumor had it the Tsarina was determined to hang on to life as long as possible to thwart her young rival. Although ravaged as she was by tuberculosis, she'd already outlived her physicians' estimates by five years.

In Saint Petersburg Militza intended calling on all her old friends to inform them she might be in need of their favors.

Even though she wished Stefan to renege on his engagement for his own future happiness, she wasn't unaware of the possible consequences. Prince Vladimir Taneiev was known for his vindictiveness; many political rivals rued the day they'd opposed him. Several were spending their remaining years in Siberia thanks to his implacable vengeance, and while Irina and Nadejda might be foolish and superficial, it would never do to underestimate Vladimir.

However… she felt she had sufficient influence herself to oppose any possible obstacles Vladimir might establish, provided she could convince Stefan to sever his ties to Nadejda. And Stefan's personal relationship with the Tsar was a very strong advantage. To a point.

Through bitter experience they all knew there were circumstances where even the Tsar had bowed to pressure.

On the same July night that Militza sat at her desk composing a list of friends in Saint Petersburg who might be needed should Vladimir turn difficult, and Stefan and Lisaveta were dining alfresco under the dark whispering pines, Choura was the featured entertainment at a bachelor party in Tiflis at Chezevek's Restaurant.

The windows were all thrown open to the heated night air, and Captain Gorsky, the host for the night, was in shirtsleeves in the middle of the floor encouraging Choura with energetic hand clapping and smiles. The Caucasian music had a pulsing rhythm of drumbeats interwoven with melodies both plaintive and voluptuous. The sound seemed to tremble in an insistent, fevered undulation, angry at times, hypnotic at intervals, convulsive, monotonous and galvanic. And Choura danced in her own expressive way: languorous and slow, stamping and impetuous, in a stylized version of courtship, of pursuit and retreat and ultimate seduction. She was wild and untamed, her dark eyes flashing, the lamplight flickering and glittering off her necklaces and rings and bracelets as she whirled, her bare feet barely touching the floor, her red silk skirt fluttering like flower petals in the wind. Her black lace blouse barely covered her firm young breasts, and when she smiled in sensual invitation, Captain Gorsky wasn't alone in planning on spending a portion of his wealth on the beautiful Gypsy girl, now that she was back in circulation.

When the musicians fell silent on a flourish of drumbeats, a roar of applause erupted in the room as every man gave vent to his approval.

The party was in celebration of a junior officer's engagement, and all the high-priced courtesans in Tiflis were in attendance. Since Stefan was on cordial terms with many of them, and since Stefan rarely missed occasions of this nature, he was repeatedly asked for.

'He's with his new lover up in the mountains,' Choura cheerfully replied to those interested parties, 'and he paid me fifty thousand roubles for my time.' She was proud to announce the amount of her new worth. Stefan's payment would serve notice her prices had gone up. And when the identity of this newest paramour was demanded, her answer was equally cheerful. 'Countess Lisaveta Lazaroff,' she'd announce, a fact she'd discovered after her return to Tiflis, when one of the Gypsy grooms in Stefan's stables relayed the gossip from the villa on the hill. 'He's taken her captive,' she would finish with obvious relish.

'Captive!' the courtesans whispered with a particular breathy eagerness memories of Stefan induced.

'Captive!' the officers breathed, their imaginations running wild.

Had the lady screamed or fought or passionately yielded?

Yes and yes and she didn't know, Choura would answer with a suggestive smile. But if she hadn't yielded eagerly, certainly she had yielded.

The scandal was delicious. Leave it to Stefan, everyone said, to abduct a lady. He'd always been a law unto himself. Like his father, they said.

She must be extraordinary in bed, the ladies all thought, for Stefan's transient interest in women was well- known. He'd never stirred himself to pursue a woman before; an abduction indicated staggering attention. They were incredulous. What does she look like? they asked then, intrigued by her unique success. And the men listened, too, because they wanted to visualize this unusual woman.

'She's pretty,' Choura said blandly, seated on Captain Gorsky's lap like a dark and languorous kitten.

'More than pretty for Stefan, I'd say,' a woman remarked, her escort's head nodding in agreement.

Choura shrugged, not inclined to unduly praise her successor. 'I suppose,' she said.

'Is she small? He likes small women,' a petite blonde reclining on a floor cushion noted, her waist hand-span narrow.

'She's tall.'

'No!'

'With brown hair.'

'Brown hair? She can't.' This was not a paragon of conventional beauty; this was not a woman in Stefan's usual style.

'Well, she does,' Choura complacently replied. She was now richer than a shopkeeper for her friendship with Stefan, and as a businesswoman who was secure in her own beauty, she was without personal jealousy for her replacement, although she was amused by the difficulties Stefan might encounter. 'She was screaming at him, too,' she said with a grin. 'I mean screaming.'

She must be good in bed, the men all decided, because surely her looks didn't appear remarkable. And screaming at Stefan? Normally he wouldn't have stayed a second in company with a vituperative female. Wherever had he found her?

'She was thrown away by the Bazhis,' Choura added as if the men had spoken aloud.

Aha, everyone agreed, male and female. To have survived the Bazhis was superhuman. She was a superwoman, and the men hoped that when Stefan tired of her, as he surely would, the Countess would consider one of them to entertain her. No one contemplated love in their speculation on Stefan and his latest bed partner, but certainly, they decided, carnal passion was the proper phrase-unique, spectacular carnal passion to so fascinate Stefan.

Oblivious to the sundry contemplations of their relationship, Stefan and Lisaveta basked in a contentment rich with passion and amity, their world insular, isolated by choice, their existence narrowed to two people and