To Live Again

The Ball of Roses was the event of the year. Count Yuri Rybovitch arrived late, just as the Tsar and Tsarina danced the opening waltz to the musical strains of a forty-piece orchestra. Yuri watched as young couples joined Nicholas and Alexandra whirling across the dance floor in smooth, fluid steps to what sounded like a thousand strings. Count Yuri was an impressive nobleman with strong, broad shoulders on a six-foot frame. His coal black hair and dark brown eyes were irresistible to the ladies. He wore a skin-tight officer’s uniform that highlighted his eye-catching masculinity. A chest full of medals from various campaigns displayed the fact that he’d served the Tsar valiantly and his three-quarter-length cape, accessorized by gold braids, indicated his noble rank. It was no secret the young Count was a lady’s man. His eyes scanned the many beautiful women in the ballroom. Occasionally, he would speak to a debutante only long enough to look her over. The ladies’ gowns were splashed with color and embroidered with the finest jewels. A princess related to the Tsar smiled at him. He bowed respectfully but didn’t accept her silent invitation. Yuri returned his attention to the dance floor. He knew most of the officers dancing this night. They were proud, strutting peacocks who were as brave on the battlefield as they were gallant on the dance floor. He’d fought alongside these men in Mongolia and drank with them during many a merry Moscow night. There was never a lack of adventure or beautiful women, and he had his share of both. Tsar Nicholas escorted Empress Alexandra to the main table where they were surrounded by ministers and favor seekers. The ballroom was a microcosm of Russian society. Seated along an entire wall, matrons and chaperones spoke in hushed tones about the scandalous attitudes of the youth of the day. Standing at one end of the huge ballroom were eligible officers from every Cossack regiment. Directly across the room, Russia’s most beautiful women gathered in small cliques admiring the handsome men. Then, he saw her. She was seated amid several young ladies who were quietly showing themselves off to prospective suitors. She wasn’t conspicuous or as aggressive as were her friends. She didn’t have to be. Her stunning beauty was a statement in itself. Yuri knew the young baroness by reputation. Natashia Karinova Petrovin was the talk of the Russian Court. She was considered the most beautiful, if not the most sought after, young lady in St Petersburg. Her father was a powerful Baron with ties to the Tsar’s vast financial empire. Every eligible officer from the Tsar’s Court patronized the Baron, hoping for a formal introduction to her. No officer appeared good enough for Natashia. The Baron turned them all away for one reason or another. Rumor had it she was promised to a Romanov cousin. All St. Petersburg wondered when the lucky man would begin courting her. Yuri watched Natashia from across the room. She captured his attention by wearing a silver blue gown cut tantalizingly low. She was tall with golden blond hair; her eyes were twin sapphires outlined by high cheekbones. Her lips were exquisite and every man wanted to taste them. Her proud shoulders held up some of the finest silk draping a heavenly body while her firm breasts were a striking contrast to her thin, delicate waist. Natashia Karinova Petrovin was the dream of men who would never have her, and the fantasy of those she happened to meet. Only Yuri decided to make her his reality. He cut across the great hall toward Natashia. From the moment she saw him, Natashia was in awe of this young man who carried himself like a god. Yuri presented himself and bowed deeply. The other young ladies perked up hoping he would look in their direction. “Good evening Baroness, Ladies.” Natashia replied. “It is a pleasant evening, isn’t it Count?” “Yes it is and you can make it more so by waltzing with me.” Natashia, maintaining propriety, consulted her dance card before accepting, gracefully. She rose majestically, held forth her arm and allowed Yuri to escort her onto the dance floor. The other ladies looked at Natashia with envy. His conversation was light and humorous as he guided Natashia expertly over the black and white marble dance floor. The music ended and his dance was over. Suddenly, Yuri found himself adhering to the correct social practices of the dance card. He bowed respectfully then walked away. Yuri watched as several officers approached Natashia. She turned them away smiling politely. What was she doing, Yuri wondered? Why wasn’t she dancing? This was one lady who baffled him—and that made her all the more interesting. While collecting his thoughts, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He discovered Natashia had slipped her dance card into his coat. Realizing why she had done this, Yuri walked toward her with a confident grin. “I seem to have found your dance card. I believe this will entitle me to another waltz?” “Oh, did I drop it while dancing with you?” Natashia flashed an innocent smile. Yuri leaned toward the beautiful woman as though she was the only one in the room. “Natashia, we’re destined for each other. I knew it the first time you filled my eyes.” “I suppose you read palms, too?” “It all depends on the hand I’m holding. May I arrange a private session?” “No thank you, I’d much rather waltz.” It was clear Natashia was enjoying Yuri’s playfulness but continued to be aloof. Yuri extended his arm, “Shall we” then guided her to the dance floor. They danced each waltz, while everyone in the room gazed at them. They went around and around, as if they were on a spiraling cloud. Natashia’s father Baron Petrovin observed disdainfully from his position at the head table next to the Tsar. By confining herself to a single partner, not approved by her father, she was jeopardizing her reputation. Yuri and Natashia were completely unaware of Baron Petrovin’s silent objection. When the evening ended, Natashia took Yuri by the hand leading him to meet her father. Natashia introduced the two men and the Baron bowed slightly only because courtesy required it. Yuri notice coldness in the Baron’s eyes, but he figured it was just a father’s way of telling any suitors they had to deal with him if they didn’t conduct themselves in a proper manner. Then all at once the Baron broke his silence. “I see you’ve successfully monopolized my daughter’s evening, sir.” “With all due respects Baron, would you have me disregard such a beautiful lady for the sake of changing partners? Your daughter has many attributes. I’m charmed by her wit as well as her beauty.” “Obviously,” the Baron answered, devoid of emotion. “Now, if you will excuse us, Count, our carriage is waiting. Natashia, your brother, Ivan, will escort you.” Yuri detected the Baron’s disapproval so he retreated respectfully bidding both father and daughter a good night. During the following months, Yuri met Natashia at the many social functions, held in St. Petersburg. The Baron didn’t restrict Natashia’s social contacts, but he ignored any request allowing Yuri to call upon his daughter in a proper fashion. Natashia thought she understood her father’s reasoning. He was still stricken by the recent death of his wife, making him extremely protective of his daughter. But, in reality, Baron Petrovin considered Yuri a wealthy adventurer and the truth behind his harsh feelings didn’t emerge until the Tsar’s annual fox hunt. Fox hunting, especially in Imperial Russia, was a sport, enjoyed by the aristocracy. The Tsar invited each noble household to the two day affair. Young couples eagerly anticipated the yearly hunt because it provided an opportunity in which to pair off. Yuri found fox hunting a delightful diversion from the tedium of formal drawing rooms. Natashia was equally enthusiastic. She learned to ride a horse when she was seven years old. Naturally, she was proud of her equestrian ability.