 Good evening. This is Crime Classics. I am Thomas Highland with another true story of crime. Listen. That was a man lying down on a wooden slab. Chain his right leg, and chain his left leg, chain his right arm, his left, shackle his neck. And now a friend of the recumbent man walks over to where the whip is hung, takes it and comes back. Its thongs are four feet long, attached to an iron ring, attached to another thong, two feet long. These last thongs being dipped in milk and dried in the sun to harden them. Now the whipper gestures to his lieutenant that he is ready, and the lieutenant gives a command. Whip! Which command eventually got the lieutenant in big trouble? Tonight, in my report to you on the general's daughter, the tsar's lieutenant, and the linen closet, a Russian tragedy. Crime Classics. A series of true crime stories taken from the records and newspapers of every land, from every time. Your host each week, Mr. Thomas Highland, connoisseur of crime, student of violence, and teller of murders. Now once again, Mr. Thomas Highland. Catherine the Great had just died, and the great bells of St. Petersburg told their requiem. Told again the ascension to the throne of Paul I. Paul, as you know, was a trial to the Russian people, and what with him and the awful stretches of the steps, many songs were written about death and broken hearts and treachery in the home. Vodka, first condemned as an opiate of the people, came into its own during Paul's reign. Two Russian troops had taken their first defeats in the Alps, and returning to St. Petersburg, told of giants eight feet tall. Closer to nine feet. Or closer to nine feet, according to Lieutenant Feodor Romayov, as he told it to the general and his daughter. And standing like eagles on the crags of the Alps. Does such talking bring flutters to you, daughter? Do you wish him to desist? Oh no. Ivanian, Kyle, Alexander, Romayov, I do not wish to offend you. Feodor Petrovich Romayov, please continue. The bravery of yourself and your men who died all about you brings all at once gladness and sadness to me. Almost nine feet tall, struck terror in the hearts of all of us. Even you, Feodor Petrovich? I do not like to say. Then I will say it. Since I was friend to your father Grigory Stepanovich Romayov, general of the Russians, I know there could be no fear in you, son. I thank you, my general. That I could have stood at your side. But I am too old. Too old. Oh, father, do not say. Too old. Old. The old finds wither and no-not springtime. Nor grapes. I kiss you, father. And now see it is past your bedtime. True. True. Then go. Go. Feodor Petrovich, I fly, I fly into your arms. All the ecstasy that you have come back. Vanka, your blush, your little apple. How the memory of you warmed me where there was ice in mountains. I kiss you dearly. Yet? Yet what? I am a defeated soldier. No. Not to you, Vanka? There is victory yet, Feodor. No less in the Alps than here. Go to my father. Ask him for my hand in marriage. Dare I? Does the thought of it frighten you? To face my father and ask him for me? You are his only joy, his only child. And you are frightened. You who faced men nine feet tall. Some of them closer to ten. Many of them. Then what fright could you have? I will ask him. When? Soon. Soon. Now, hold me. Hold me. So cold it was in Switzerland and lonely. Feodor was back home. And back home he had it pretty good. And because he was the son of General Cermayov's best, though dead comrade at arms, the youth was given an apartment in the general's palace, which eventually led to more than a nodding acquaintance with the general's wine cellar, the general's library, and the general's daughter, Vanyanka. A few words about Vanyanka. She was beautiful. Great black eyes, straight nose, lips that drew back slightly at their corners in sympathy with a disdainful expression on her face. Her manner was proud and unapproachable, goddess-like. Yet all was not caviar and sour cream, as the saying went. Feodor. Yes, little apple? When will you ask my father for my hand? Kiss me. No. When will you ask my father? But you are but seventeen. And an untutored child who finds no favor in your eyes. Vanyanka, Vanyanka, sing to me. Sing to me the song of the gypsy whose sweet heart drowned in the neva. Sing to me. Get out of my apartment. Out. Out, lover, with the heart of a pigeon. Vanyanka. What? I will ask him. When? He has asked me, the general, to hunt with him the boar, tomorrow. In the lodge and the forest, when the hunt is done, I will ask him, since he is always in good cheer at this time. Now, kiss me. I want to. So rest, rest, Chadova, rest, beautiful beast, child of the wolf and child of the dog. You hunted well, Chadova, and I love you. Feodor Petrovich. Yes, general? You are a good lad. You please me, lad. In you, I see myself in you. General? What? A Vanyanka. A Vanyanka? Vanyanka, my ruby, my delight. I wish to marry her. You wish to marry her. Exactly. My soul longs for her. Alas? Alas? Too late. Too late. But two days ago, What? I gave her hand to Vasily Vasilyevich, favorite of the Tsar. In six months, when Vanyanka is 18, she will marry Vasily Vasilyevich. That is terrible. Your heart is broken. Alas? Do you think of the Nieva? Yes. Too late. Feodor. Yes? I am happy you are back from hunting the boar. As am I. Feodor? Yes, Little Apple. What's to become of us? Life goes on, Little Apple. In truth, did he say that? What? My father said I would marry Vasily Vasilyevich. Truth, when you are 18. But Vasily Vasilyevich is a fool and he's clumsy. He falls down at such inappropriate times. Often one is in the middle of a sentence to him. But yet your father promised you to him. What is to become of us? I will remain at the palace until your wedding. Promise me, oh promise. I promise. I will go to my father and say I do not wish to be married until I am 20. Vanyanka Yablushka. Feodor Petrovich. And then the next day a small thing happened. Gregory Litnoy, a servant in the palace, spilled some soup on the handsome new gown of Vanyanka, which ruined it. A beat stains being impossible to remove at this time. Which caused Vanyanka to become furious. Vlog him. Vlog him. Mercy, mercy. Take him out of here. I will tell Feodor and he will see that this surf is flogged. And you remember what happened? A few days later Feodor supervised the surf flogging, while Vanyanka watched from her second story apartment, proud of the way her Feodor gave the commands. However, a few days later when the surf Gregory was able to get around again. Come in, come in. Get up, get up, Gregory Litnoy. So, how are your wounds from the flogging? Ivan the flogger laid the knout into my back, and where I am muscled, else I should be dead. Well, you deserve to be whipped. Yes. Now what is it? Now, why have you come for an audience? Do not things go well in the kitchen? What? They go well in the kitchen, as they go well elsewhere, excellency. Then what? Oh, how well? What are you talking about? Down the corridor where your daughter's apartment is, they go best of all. She and Feodor Petrovic... Sign! What foul words! No, no, listen... Yes, I'll listen, and then hound of a man, I'll skin you alive. If my words are false, lay the knout against me till it takes away all the skin, but only listen. Speak, then. Even now, excellency, Vanyanka and the lieutenant, lovers that sing to each other, while Anushka, the maid-servant, pours them wine and prepares all manner of things. No! No, no lashes, excellency. Do not whip me till you have seen with your own eyes. Yes, I will see, and I will tell you this. If it is true what you say, and if Feodor Petrovic is in the apartment of Vanyanka... You will flog her? Till her death. And him? Till his death. I open the door for you, excellency. The whip the general was carrying was a bore hide and covered with brass studs. It had been his favorite since his days at the academy, when he was given to stopping surfs in the street and making of them living examples of his skill with the whip. Now he was on his way to visit his daughter. You are listening to Crime Classics, and your host, Thomas Highland. Every Thursday night, CBS Radio invites you to escape. In a powerful story typical of this unique drama series, CBS Radio presents the Scarlet Plague tomorrow night on most of these same stations. Hear what might happen if a pestilence wiped out everyone on earth, except one lone professor and a girl. Hear it on escape tomorrow night at the star's address. Now once again, Thomas Highland in the second act of Crime Classics, and his report to you on the general's daughter, the Tsar's lieutenant, and the Lennon closet. A Russian tragedy. St. Petersburg in the first year of the 19th century. A young city then, less than a hundred years old. Created and built by Peter the Great, it boasted fine cathedrals and canals, and a Headsman's chopping block second to none. It was in this city in this era, you'll remember, which gave to the Russian court the Savarov sisters, Anna and Fanya, who confounded and delighted and who sent to an early grave the false Dimitri. One of the most beautiful thoroughfares of the city was the Nevsky Prospect, and where it bridged the Neva on the escarpment was the palace of General Alexander Chermayov, retired. At the moment, he was on his way to flog his daughter to death, and her lover, too, which young people were even now at my play. My turn now. Anushka! Coming! Coming! Coming! Vanyakaya Alexandrovna! The eggs are boiled to hardness. My turn. My turn. Now, what design shall I paint on this one? Cherubims. Cherubims and doves. Good. Oh, good. Vanyakaya! Yoll Papa, Fyodor, Fyodor Petrovich. If he finds me here. Vanyakaya Alexandrovna! Yes, Papa? Open. Open the door. A moment, Papa. Open. Open the door. Quickly, Fyodor, in the linen closet. Yes, yes. Get in. Now lie down. Anushka, get linen. Put linen on top. Cover him. It is I! General Alexander Chermayov. And I demand it. Open the door to your Papa. In a second, Papa. Quickly, Anushka, quickly. It is done. Put down the door and close it. I'll lock it. Now sit on it. Yes. Yes. Papa, come in. What delight to see you at this time of day. Where is he? Where is who, Papa? Where is who, Anushka? I do not know. Do I? Whom do you wish, Papa? Fyodor Petrovich Romayov. Fyodor Petrovich Romayov. The scoundrel. The black-hearted one who comes here to your room. To my room? Look about you and see if he is here. And if he is, do you see this whip? If he is in this room, I should expect the whip, Papa. Well said. Well spoken, daughter. Then I have your honor that he is not here. You have my honor. And yours, Anushka Ogalapachin? Oh, yes. Why are you sitting on the linen closet? It is where she sits when she assists me to paint eggs. And this you have been doing? All afternoon. Oh, such marvels you have painted. It has been years since I have done such a youthful pleasure. Daughter, if now I joined you at this sport. Oh, I want you to. And it's being just before Easter and since it was the custom for the masters to supply the serfs with gaily colored eggs, father and daughter painted while Anushka boiled and brought. And there was conversation. If your daughter has asked me for your hand, one income? Yes, I know. I informed him when you are 18, you will marry Vasily Vasilyovich. Can I not wait until I'm 20? On the day that you are 18. And so it went. Three hours, talk, tea, painting. Then the general got up. It has been a pleasure of an income. I will see you. Of course, Anushka. Open the linen closet. Robert, let go of the tablecloth. What? Dead. He's dead. If your father finds this corpse here, he will whip you to death. I will throw myself into the neva. It is not necessary. My brother Ivan. What can he do? He will dispose of Fyodor in such a way. Do not worry, your pretty head. He has disposed before. I know. Do not stop. Do not cry. The dead are dead. And always flows the neva. I must tell you that Ivan, the brother of Anushka, is the same Ivan who flogged Gregory. And Gregory, you'll remember, is the same Gregory who snitched on Vaninkar, Alexandrovna and Fyodor Petrovich. And now the way Ivan disposed of Fyodor's body was this. Since there was still ice on the neva, he cut a hole in it and stuffed the body into the icy waters. The cold wind quickly froze shut the ice again and Fyodor's body, flowing with the swift current of the river, sometime later entered the Gulf of Finland. In this arrangement, Ivan received a thousand rubles the fee agreed upon, plus an extra thousand blackmail. Which last set a precedent? Vaninkar was forced to pay Ivan money whenever he demanded it. However, being rich, she didn't mind. And that summer she spent a joyous vacation on the Black Sea with her father. That's the opposite direction from the Gulf of Finland. Vaninkar. Yes, papa? Your Fyodor... Has gone on a journey to forget me. No blood. And the next month on the Crimea, taking the waters still south. Vaninkar? Yes, papa? You had a letter today. Was it from Fyodor? No, papa. It was from Sophie Pagavia from Prushnitz. To tell me she has married a boy from Prushnitz. Boris Pagyev... And from Fyodor, nothing. And in the Ukraine after the festivals were over, a coming home. Vaninkar! Yes, papa? I liked Fyodor. Yes, papa. I miss him. I miss him too, papa. And no sooner had they gotten back to the palace. Vaninkar! Yes, papa? Quickly, come! Vaninkar, news from Moscow. Vasily Vasilovich fell down. He always falls, papa. This is his last fall, Vaninkar. Three flights of steps. He's dead. Dead? Nor must you think of throwing yourself into the neva, Vaninkar. Listen, I give you permission. Permission? To marry Fyodor Petrovich Romayov. Well? Thanks, papa. This is the best way to eat potatoes. And this in serves the best potatoes. Agreed? Agreed. Gregory? What is it, Ivan Ivanovich? To ask you once more that you bear me no malice for having whipped you, for having flogged you. How could I think evil of you? It was the fault of Vaninkar because I spilled on her. Vaninkar, Vaninkar. And Fyodor Petrovich, who gave you the order to lay the strap on? Yeah, Fyodor Petrovich. Ivan? Yes? How is it that suddenly you are so rich? Drink vodka. I drink, and yet I cannot help but ask. You are friend to me. From the same village. Friend? From the same village, from the same meadowland. Yet you are rich, and I am penniless. And close your ear. Vaninkar. What? Vaninkar Alexandrovna. She gives you money? Whatever I ask she gives. Whatever, whenever. For example. Yes? I have but to crook a finger, and she would come running if I but crook the finger. No. With a bottle of her father's best brandy in each arm. Then crook a finger. You wish to see? I wish to see. Waiter! Waiter, come here. Here are ten roubles. Go to the chairman of palace and ask of Vaninkar. Tell her you are of me. And that I wish her here. At once. With brandy. Her papa's brandy. At once. At the moment when Vaninkar received word that she was wanted at the inn by Yvonne Yovanovich. She was in the middle of brooding. She had never been closer to the bottom of the Neva river than she was now. Thinking as she was of her dead lover and how fate and a tattletail named Gregory and a blackmailer named Yvonne Yovanovich had robbed her of her one true love. So she went to the general's liquor cabinet and extracted two bottles of his oldest brandy. Then she went to the general's medicine chest and extracted a handful of the general's opium and mixed the two together. Then she went down to the inn. And by your command, Yvonne Yovanovich. Two bottles of brandy. One for me and one for Gregory. Pull up the carts, Gregory. Yes. And now we will drink to Vaninkar Alexanderovna Chermayov. To Vaninkar. They drank and they drank and Vaninkar watched. Then they passed into the land of poppy dreams and Vaninkar watched. Everyone else went home until all who were left in the inn were a dozing proprietor and the two dreamers Yvonne and Gregory and Vaninkar who stopped watching who went over to the fireplace and took a burning brand and set fire to the place. The inn burned well and everything that was in it. Then Vaninkar took a walk. And so it is done, lover. Fyodor Petrovich, finished. Those who caused your death are dead now. So sleep, Yvonne Petrovich. Sleep. And soon, who knows, I will be in your arms again. Gently, gently flows the Nyeva. Nyeva, mother of rivers. Where do you go? Soft silver light on your kindly bosom. Mother of rivers. Take me. Take me. Hold me. I would like to be able to tell you that the bodies of the lovers were found close to one another on some distant and misty shore. But I cannot. Vaninkar did not drown. She was saved by a young man passing by. He was a captain in the tsar's cavalry and they rode back to the palace and wore him clothes as she draped across the pommel of his steed. He proposed marriage as soon as he saw her house. She refused. He rode away to the north crying. Vaninkar locked herself in her room and never came out again. Except for her father's funeral a week later. In just a moment, Thomas Highland will tell you about next week's crime classic. Tonight's Russian tragedy was adapted from translations of the original court reports and newspaper accounts by Morton Fine and David Friedkin. The music was composed and conducted by Bernard Herman and the program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. Thomas Highland is portrayed on radio by Lou Merrill. In tonight's story, Lillian Bayef was heard as Vaninkar, John Daener is the general and High Aberbach is Feodor. Featured in the cast were Vic Perrin, Barney Phillips and Irene Tedrow, Bob LeMond speaking. Here again is Thomas Highland. Next week, Manchester, England in the year 1826. At that time the Norwich Union boys really knew how to put out a big fire. They were also adept at snuffing out smaller flames. It's listed in my files as James Evans Fireman. How he extinguished a human torch. Thank you. Good night. 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