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Then the noises of Kinesma were not only permitted,
but encouraged. Mead and qvass flowed in the very streets, and
the castle trumpets could not be heard for the sound of troikas
and balalaikas.
After the Polonaise, and a few stately minuets, (copied from the
court of Elizabeth), the company were ushered into the theatre.
The hour of Simon Petrovitch had struck: with the inspiration
smuggled to him by Prince Boris, he had arranged a performance
which he felt to be his masterpiece. Anxiety as to its reception
kept him sober. The overture had ceased, the spectators were all
in their seats, and now the curtain rose. The background was a
growth of enormous, sickly toad-stools, supposed to be clouds. On
the stage stood a girl of eighteen, (the handsomest in Kinesma), in
hoops and satin petticoat, powdered hair, patches, and high-heeled
shoes. She held a fan in one hand, and a bunch of marigolds in the
other. After a deep and graceful curtsy to the company, she came
forward and said,--
"I am the goddess Venus. I have come to Olympus to ask some
questions of Jupiter.


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