"Translate for Her, She's Only the Nursemaid," the Countess Said — The Ambassador Bowed to Her
Chapter 8
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So there were five heads to be brushed, one of them Russian, and Perry had lost a shoe, and Rupert had declared that he would not wear a collar that strangled, and Louisa had decided to tell the Count about her rabbit, which had died in March."You will say good evening, and you will curtsy, and you will not mention the rabbit," said Theodora."But he might have had a rabbit.""Then he will tell you so, and you may be sorry together."Natasha, in white, with Annushka under her arm, said in Russian, "Will you come?""I will stand behind you. I will be there the whole time.""Will you talk?""Nursemaids do not talk at dinner, little one. Nursemaids stand."At half past nine, the footman came, and the procession went down: Frances first, then Rupert with his collar, then Louisa holding Natasha's hand because she had decided they were sisters, then Perry carried, because of the shoe, by Marlow in gray.The dining room opened before them like a furnace of light. Thirty-one faces turned. The Countess rose, smiling, to present her children. She did it beautifully; she had been born to it. The children stood in a row below the epergne, and Theodora stood behind them with Perry asleep on her shoulder. And nobody looked at her, because nobody looks at the nursemaid.Count Zabelin got up from his chair when his daughter was brought to him, and that made the table murmur, because an envoy does not get up for a child. He took Natasha's face in his hands and said something to her in Russian, and she answered, and he laughed.The Countess said, "What does she say, Mr. Pomfret? Do tell us."Mr. Pomfret said, "She says she is very happy in this house, my lady, and has been given a doll."What Natasha had said was, "The gray lady knows Mama's song." But the Count only smiled and let it go, because he was an envoy, and the table applauded the doll.Then the Earl rose. He had worked on his toast for a week. He was a decent man, and he wanted to be a good one, and he had chosen with care the thing he most honestly admired about Russia, and put it into English as plain and warm as he could make it. He raised his glass:"Your Excellency, we in England have read the story of 1812 as a story of a people who, rather than let the invader sleep in their ancient capital, gave that capital to the flames with their own hands, and who had a sovereign that never once made peace with him. We drink to that courage, and to that Emperor, and to the lady, your late Countess, who, we are told, carried a child through that fire and lived to see her safe. To Russia."