Some devils have horns. Some choose to hide them under their hats. Others still are not averse to a game or two, as was Count Rosier who won the hand of Prince Mishkin’s daughter in a game of cards.
Rosier did not care particularly for Prince Mishkin, but he always enjoyed cards. Any game he was consummately skilled at, but particularly games of chance.
They had been playing cards all night when Prince Mishkin’s luck ran out and he had to pay up. Mishkin, who was one of those miserable Russian aristocrats who had lost everything in the revolution, burst into tears. “I don’t have anything left. Not a single kopeck. You have beaten me fair and square.”
Rosier was stretched to feel any sympathy. “Prince,” he said, “one thing you have forgotten…”
He turned to Prince Mishkin’s daughter, who had been watching her father lose money all night and had fallen asleep on the sofa.
Prince Mishkin looked at the Count with a kind of sad inevitability. “That was your plan all along,” he said. “To capture my daughter.”
Prince Mishkin burst into tears yet again.
“I would be honoured,” said Rosier, “to accept her hand in marriage. Though I cannot bring back your former property or the tsar who was put to death by your enemies, all your debts will be cancelled.”
Prince Mishkin shook his head, but the following day, a priest was found. While Rosier had no liking for priests, he tolerated the Prince’s request that they should be married in a church with candles and icons; the Count even managed to rustle up an icon of St. Andrew the First Called for them to gawp at, though he would not go so far as to conjure the Saviour.
Prince Mishkin gave his daughter away in the white dress that had belonged to her mother. It was not the honour he wanted for his daughter, but Rosier was indulgent. “Your daughter is of a rare beauty,” he said. “She gives me more pleasure to look at than an old white dress.”
After the wedding feast, Rosier was ready to take the princess away, but she was tired and fell asleep in his arms.
When she woke up, she found herself in Rosier’s palace.
The Princess was enchanted.
There were so many rooms and so many towers etc to explore. Each room she saw was more attractive than the last.
Rosier drew back the curtain in her room to reveal a four-poster bed adorned with the tapestries of hunting scenes, elephants, lions and unicorns.
The Princess, who had been poor for too many years, had forgotten the meaning of comfort.
She lay on the bed and fell fast asleep.
Rosier was content just to watch as she lay there prettily on the feather down in her old white dress.
The following day she awoke to find she had a pretty pair of glass slippers to put on her delicate feet and a fine silk dressing gown to put over her ragged white dress.
She got up and went over to the table where breakfast was laid for her. Rosier’s servants had brought a samovar of tea. There was a huge bowl of fruit with the ripest pears and the reddest rambutan.
Rosier took the Princess for a tour of the grounds of his palace where strutted peacocks before peonies, and stallions before mares. They went for a walk with his pet leopard and they rode – rather amusingly – his docile ass to see the deer and the red squirrels in the woods.
The Princess made friends with a charming little monkey, who kept on stealing Rosier’s hat.
They tarried in the gazebo. Rosier’s servants brought them sweat meats and cakes and bananas for the monkey who continued to steal the Count’s hat.
“I shall name him Cheater,” declared the princess.
Rosier smiled amiably as he smoked his long Havana cigar.
At the end of the day, exhausted, the Princess fell asleep on her bed.
Rosier took off her glass slippers and banished the monkey from the room.
He was content as the night before to watch as she slept.
She has nothing on underneath. If I were to go on describing her, how I see her skin. How her body undulates under the film of her dress. Perhaps you will get a taste for her as he does.
The following day the scene was repeated.
When Rosier came to see the princess at breakfast, his servants had already brought the samovar of tea. The Princess was helping herself to the pears and the rambutan as the monkey Cheater pulled a face and gestured for the Princess to hand him his banana.
After breakfast they went out to tour the grounds of Rosier’s palace. He introduced the princess to the dancing horses and the prancing pony and that incomparable monkey Cheetah went with them everywhere.
“Count,” she declared, “I cannot tell you how magical all this is.”
Rosier smiled.
“Are you happy?” he inquired.
“Happy!” replied the Princess. “There is no word to describe it. My happiness knows no bounds!
Cheater the monkey must have felt it, too. For he clapped his hands and did a somersault for the Princess who collapsed laughing on the bed.
The Princess fell asleep again.
Rosier pulled back the sheets and took off her glass slippers.
He shooed away the monkey and sat down to watch the Princess sleep.
And when he went away, he had no need to lock the door. Though she did not know it, the princess had been entirely charmed.
Over many months and perhaps many years the pretty pattern of their life was repeated: the days of charm and the nights of silent pleasure until, one day, Rosier grew tired. As I am tired now.
Rosier who was as you have probably guessed not really a gentleman or even a count could see this trap that he had set for the Princess – this prison he had constructed for his own pleasure – had lost all of its charm. Rosier was as good at metaphysics as the best minds, and as cunning as a Jesuit in his casuistry. He wanted to see her face when she saw his face. He wanted to know her terror.
As I do now, Princess.
“Now do you believe me when I come to tell you the secret I cannot bear to tell.”
So saying, he uncovered his face.
When she saw his horns, the princess screamed and fainted.
So began a new kind of pleasure, without any charm, and naked as a curse.