A Russian Gentleman Part 7

Chichagoff's history, and especially his second marriage, is quite a romance; and I shall tell it as briefly as I can, because we shall often come across this family in future, and especially because the life of the young Bagroffs was a good deal influenced by this pair. Peter Chichagoff was a man of exceptional ability or, I should rather say, exceptional acuteness, and had received what was for those days an advanced education in many subjects: he knew several languages, could draw and understood architecture, and wrote both in prose and verse. In his hot youth he fell in love at Moscow with a young lady of the Rimsko-Korsakoff family, and went so far as to misrepresent his position, in order to win her hand. This was discovered after the marriage, and he was banished to Ufa. His wife soon died. Within a year he consoled himself and fell in love with Katherine Myortvavo, who was attracted by his gay and amiable temper, his intelligence and acquirements; his face was so very plain that it could exercise no attraction. She was no longer a girl and had too strong a character to be controlled by her mother and brothers: they let her marry Chichagoff, and he was pardoned soon afterwards but not allowed to leave the Government of Ufa. Sofya Nikolayevna liked him for two reasons: because he was the husband of her dearest friend, and perhaps still more for his own cleverness and wide information. Mme. Myortvavo had just settled to leave Ufa and live in the country, and the Chichagoffs had come on purpose to help her in building a house and a church. After a week's experience of her husband's relations, this meeting was a spring in the desert to Sofya Nikolayevna; it was like a breath of fresh air in which her heart and quick intelligence expanded; she talked on with her friends till near midnight. But Alexyei Stepanitch would have sat there in silence and solitude, had not the old lady grasped the situation and entertained him by her pleasant talk. After supper, however, he said "good-night," and went off to the bedroom allotted to the visitors; when Sofya Nikolayevna came she found him fast asleep. They started for Bagrovo early next day without disturbing their hosts.

During their drive Alexyei Stepanitch was still sullen and silent. In reply to direct questions from his wife, his answers were so cold and short that she gave up speaking to him. Her lively and impatient temper resented this treatment, but she did not care to clear up matters in Parasha's presence, preferring to wait till the after-dinner rest when she would be alone with her husband. For the present she started a conversation with her maid about their life at Ufa, while Alexyei Stepanitch squeezed into a corner of the carriage and either fell asleep or pretended to. They reached Bagrovo two hours before dinner. Stepan Mihailovitch was obviously pleased to see his daughter-in-law again, and even said that he had missed her. "My dear," he added; "you really must not stay here too long, or I shan't be able to let you go; as it is, I shall miss you, likely enough." He made her give him a minute account of their expedition. He praised Mme. Myortvavo whom he knew well, and said that he would send her an invitation next day to come with her daughter and son-in-law and dine at Bagrovo; he fixed on the following Sunday, which was four days ahead, for the entertainment. "You must visit the Kalpinskys and Lupenevskys the day after to-morrow," he said; "and then you can invite them too for Sunday; and then, three days later, you had better be off home to Ufa. Your father has never been parted from you before, and must miss you terribly; and I am sure, my dear, that you are even more anxious to see him, poor suffering old man!"

Stepan Mihailovitch was not long in finding out that something disagreeable had happened on this expedition. In the course of conversation, he said, "Well, were the Karatayeffs glad to see you?" The answer was of course in the affirmative; but Sofya Nikolayevna happened to mention that she had been kept awake all night by rats. This surprised the old man: he had only been there once, long ago, and had heard nothing of the kind. But here Arina Va.s.silyevna unsuspiciously joined in, in spite of the warning signs of her daughter Elizabeth; she suffered for it afterwards, poor lady, at the hands of her daughters. "O yes, yes, _batyushka_ Stepan Mihailovitch!" she cried; "the rats there are perfectly awful! Without bed-curtains, it's impossible to get a wink of sleep." "Had you no curtains to your bed, then?" asked the old man, and there was an ominous change in his voice as he spoke. "No," was the only possible answer. "An excellent hostess!" he said, and looked at his wife and daughter in such a way that a cold s.h.i.+ver ran down their backs.

The Karatayeff party had not yet returned, but were expected by tea-time. Dinner was not a cheerful meal: all were out of spirits, and each had his or her own reasons. Arina Va.s.silyevna and Elizabeth were conscious of the approaching storm, and feared that the thunderbolt might smite them also. It was long since Stepan Mihailovitch had been in a rage, and the prospect was more alarming to them because they had become unused to such outbreaks. Sofya Nikolayevna noted the frown on her father-in-law's face; she did not object to his giving a good fright to his daughter, whom she detested as her avowed enemy; but she feared she might somehow get involved herself. She had no unkind intention in speaking about the rats: she never supposed that her father-in-law would take any special notice of this circ.u.mstance or attach serious importance to it. Nevertheless, a stone lay on her heart also: she could not determine how to act towards her husband. He had been angry with her for the first time, when she used insulting language about his sister: was it best to wait till he appealed to her voluntarily, or to put an end to the uncomfortable situation by begging him to forgive her? Her love and her tender caresses might then cause him to forget her regrettable impulsiveness. And she certainly would have chosen this course; for she was pa.s.sionately in love with her kind young husband.

She blamed herself severely: she ought to have foreseen everything and been prepared for everything. She knew that Alexyei Stepanitch would not hesitate to die for her, but she knew also that she ought not to demand of him what he could not give-a tender and constant observation, and a full comprehension of all the trifling occurrences that might give her pain. And this was hard for her, with her hot blood and sensitive nerves, her eager, excitable brain and impressionable nature. Such were the poor woman's thoughts and feelings as she walked up and down her room waiting for her husband; his mother had stopped him on his way there after dinner and asked him to come to her bedroom. The minutes seemed to her like hours. The thought that he was loitering on purpose, fearing a scene and unwilling to be alone with her; the thought, that without relieving her heart of its many troubles and without a reconciliation with her husband, she would see him again in the presence of her enemies and must play a part the whole evening-this thought oppressed her heart and threw her into a fever. Suddenly the door opened, and Alexyei Stepanitch walked in. There was no hesitation in his movements; he was no longer timid and sad, but fearless and even displeased. He began at once to reproach her for complaining to his father and getting Alexandra into trouble. "They are all trembling and crying now, and G.o.d only knows what will come of it," he said, primed with all that his mother and sister had been impressing upon him. "It is wrong and a sin on your part to cause trouble and quarrels in your husband's family. I told you what my father is like when he is angry; and you, knowing this and seeing his love for you, took advantage of it!" Sofya Nikolayevna's patience snapped instantly, and she fired up at once; love was silent, and of pity and contrition not a trace was left; and her poor husband discovered that Stepan Mihailovitch was not the only person who could fly into a pa.s.sion. An irresistible flood of complaints, accusations, and reproaches poured down upon him. He was utterly crushed and confounded; he could make no defence, and was all but a monster in his own eyes. Soon he was kneeling at her feet and begging forgiveness with tears. It was not surprising that Alexyei Stepanitch was powerless before that volcanic eruption of feeling and intelligence, that heartfelt conviction and wonderful power of eloquence. A man entirely in the right, a man much more resolute than Alexyei Stepanitch, would have pleaded guilty before the youth and beauty of a woman whom he loved. And Alexyei Stepanitch was certainly not in the right.

When the storm had calmed down in the bedroom of the young couple, it was still brewing at the other end of the house, in the smallish room which belonged to Stepan Mihailovitch. Sleep had not brought peace to him or smoothed the frown from his high forehead. He sat for some time across his bed in gloomy silence, and then called out, "Mazan!" Mazan had long been lying outside the door, breathing heavily according to his wont, and looking in through a c.h.i.n.k; he had been placed there as a sentry, while the family were sitting in the parlour, full of gloomy apprehensions. He called out at the top of his voice, "What is your pleasure, sir?"-and hurried into the room. "Has my daughter Alexandra arrived? Yes? Then bring her here." Alexandra entered on his heels, for on such occasions delay was more dangerous than anything. "How dared you, Madam," began the old man in the voice she knew and dreaded-"how dared you set rats on your brother and his wife?" "I am sorry, father,"

humbly answered Alexandra, while her knees trembled beneath her, and fear kept down her own infernal temper. "I put my guests on purpose in the drawing-room, and I never thought of putting curtains to their bed.

I was so busy and so glad to see them that it slipped my memory." "You were so glad to see them! Do you expect me to believe _that_? How did you dare to act so to your brother and to me? How did you dare to bring shame on your father in his old age?" The affair would perhaps have gone no further than angry words and loud threats and possibly a rap from his fist; but Alexandra, stung by the thought that she was suffering on account of Sofya Nikolayevna, and hoping that the storm would still blow over, forgot that any sort of answer was a new offence. She could not resist saying, "I am punished for nothing on her account." A fresh and terrible fit of rage seized Stepan Mihailovitch, that rage which invariably ended in painful and shocking violence. Words of fury were on the point of rus.h.i.+ng from his lips, when Arina Va.s.silyevna, with her daughters Aksinya and Tanyusha, ran into the room and fell at the old man's feet, with tears and cries; they had been standing outside the door and had seen what was coming. Karatayeff had been standing there with them; but he ran out of the house and into the wood, where he slashed furiously at the innocent birch-branches with his stick, punis.h.i.+ng them for the wrong done to his wife. Elizabeth did not venture to enter the room, knowing that her own conscience was not clear, and that her father was quite aware of the part she had played. "_Batyushka_ Stepan Mihailovitch!" cried Arina Va.s.silyevna, "your will is law, you are our master, do what pleases you! Only do not shame us and disgrace your family in the sight of your daughter-in-law! You will frighten her out of her life; all this is new to her." The words seemed to have some effect on the old man. He was silent for a moment; then he pushed Alexandra from him with his foot, crying, "Begone, and don't venture to show yourself till I send for you!" No one waited for any further orders: in a moment the room was cleared, and all was silence round Stepan Mihailovitch; but his blue eyes long remained dark and clouded, and his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, as he restrained his pa.s.sionate anger which had been aroused and not satisfied.

The _samovar_ had long been hissing on the drawing-room table, not in the shade of the stoop, because heavy rain had just ceased falling and it was damp out of doors. Nature seemed to sympathise with what was pa.s.sing in the house of Bagrovo. Soon after dinner two clouds of intense blackness had met in the zenith and long remained there motionless, emitting from time to time flashes of lightning and shaking the air with peals of thunder. At last the rain came down in torrents, the clouds s.h.i.+fted to the east, and the setting sun shone out. Fields and woods smelt sweeter, refreshed by the rain, and the birds began to sing louder; but alas! the storms of human pa.s.sion are not followed by such a calm.

Alexandra pretended illness, but the other daughters came with their mother to the drawing-room; Karatayeff also was there, but Yerlykin was still absent from the house, on the pretext of ill-health. Stepan Mihailovitch had tea in his room and gave orders that he was not to be disturbed. The door of the young couple's room was locked; after a short delay, tapping was tried and brought them out at once. Sofya Nikolayevna looked cheerful, and her husband really was more cheerful than before; but it was easy to guess from their faces that something unusual had been happening in their room. Of what had pa.s.sed in the bedroom of Stepan Mihailovitch, they knew nothing. As for Arina Va.s.silyevna and her daughters, they looked like people who had just been pulled out of the water or s.n.a.t.c.hed from the fire. It is a pity that there was no one to observe the scene; for it is certain that the different expressions on the faces of the company would have afforded an entertaining spectacle.

All attempts to keep up a conversation were unsuccessful. The absence of the father and of one daughter puzzled Sofya Nikolayevna beyond endurance: she invented some pretext for going to her own room, where she summoned Parasha and got to the bottom of the mystery. They knew all about it in the maids' room: not only had Mazan and Tanaichonok been listening all the time, but the old lady and her daughter were in the habit of keeping nothing back from their waiting-women. Thus Parasha was able to give her mistress an exact and detailed report. Sofya Nikolayevna was much disturbed. She had never expected such alarming consequences; she heartily regretted having told her father-in-law about the wretched rats; and she was sincerely sorry for Alexandra. She went back to the drawing-room and asked leave to visit the invalid, but was told she was asleep. During her absence, Alexyei Stepanitch had heard the whole story. After a hasty supper they separated to their rooms at ten o'clock. When alone with her husband, Sofya Nikolayevna, with much agitation and many tears, fell on his neck, and again asked his forgiveness with heartfelt penitence, blaming herself much more than she really deserved. But he did not understand the delicacy of feeling which prompted her genuine grief and drew from her tears. He was only sorry to see her distress herself about trifles; and he tried to console her by saying that all was well that ends well, that the family were accustomed to such scenes, that his father would wake in a good temper to-morrow and forgive Alexandra, and all would go on as well as at first. Only he begged her not to have any explanations with any of the family, and not to beg pardon, as she wished to do, for her unintentional slip; and he advised her not to visit his father in the morning but to wait till he sent for her. Sofya Nikolayevna understood her husband's character better than she had ever done before; and the knowledge hurt her deeply.

While he slept peacefully all night, she never closed an eye.

Stepan Mihailovitch was the worse for his fit of anger and also disliked the thought that his daughter-in-law might have heard of it. His honest nature resented every underhand action and deliberate unkindness; and also he saw, in what his daughter had done, disregard to his own authority and position. He was on the brink of an illness; he ate no supper, stayed indoors instead of going to sit on the stoop, and, when he should have seen his bailiff, sent his orders by a servant. But the benign darkness of night which gives light to the eye of our mind, the stillness, and then sleep, which calms the pa.s.sions of men and rains down blessings upon them-all these did their kindly office. Early next day he summoned Arina Va.s.silyevna and gave her his instructions to convey to his daughters-they were intended mainly for Alexandra, but in part also for Elizabeth-that Sofya Nikolayevna was not to know of any unpleasantness, and they were to behave accordingly. In a short time the _samovar_ was placed on the table, and all the family summoned. Arina Va.s.silyevna fortunately had time to send a message by her son to Sofya Nikolayevna, begging her to do her best to cheer up the master of the house: "He is not quite well," she said, "and in low spirits for some reason." In spite of her sleepless night and the aching of her own heart, Sofya Nikolayevna carried out this request to admiration; all the party, and she herself more than any, were anxious that it should be done.

Sofya Nikolayevna was an astonis.h.i.+ng woman! Lively, impressionable, and excitable, she could be carried away in a moment by impulses of the head or heart, and was capable of very sudden and complete transformations of behaviour. In later years stupid people accused her of insincerity on this ground, but no one else did. It was really a kind of artistic power, which enabled her to adapt herself instantly to a new atmosphere and a new position, and to act absolutely in accordance with her immediate purpose; and this purpose, being entirely sincere, acted like a spell on others. In this case, she laid herself out to calm the agitation of her father-in-law, for whom she had conceived a warm affection, and who had championed her cause at the cost of his peace of mind and at the risk of his health; and she wished to relieve her husband and his family, who had been terrified and a.s.sailed owing to her slip of the tongue. Her imagination and feelings were so completely mastered by this purpose that she exercised a kind of magical power over the party and soon subdued them all by the irresistible spell of her personality. She poured out tea herself and handed the cups herself, first to her father-in-law and then to the rest; she talked to every one so easily and pleasantly and brightly that the old man, quite convinced that she had caught no glimpse of the skeleton in the cupboard, soon relaxed his features. Of him also it was true that his cheerfulness was infectious; and, before an hour had pa.s.sed, all traces of the storm of yesterday had disappeared.

Immediately after dinner the young couple started off to pay two ceremonial visits-to Ilarion Kalpinsky and his wife Catherine at Nyeklyoodovo, and to our old acquaintance Mme. Lupenevsky, who lived within two _versts_ of the Kalpinskys. Kalpinsky was in his own way a remarkable man: though he had received no regular education, he was very intelligent and well-read; his origin was obscure-it was said that he was of Mordvinian descent-but he had risen to a considerable rank in the public service, and had made a marriage of interest with the daughter of a country gentleman of good family. His present pursuit was farming, and his object to save money. He set up for a freethinker; and his few neighbours who had heard of Voltaire called him a Voltairian. He lived at home without taking any part in the life of the family, and reserved to himself complete freedom in the gratification of his somewhat Epicurean tastes and habits. Though she had heard of him, Sofya Nikolayevna had never seen him, because he had only recently removed to Orenburg from his public office at Petersburg. She was surprised to find in him a man possessed of intelligence and culture according to the standards of the time, and dressed like a gentleman living in the capital. She was pleased with him at first; but he soon began to show off before such an attractive visitor, and then his profanity and the shameless immorality of his family life made her feel a disgust for him which she never afterwards got over. His wife was far more intelligent than her sister, Mme. Lupenevsky, but not her superior in any other respect. The visit lasted for an hour, and was followed by a visit to Mme. Lupenevsky. In both houses tea was given to the guests and home-made jam, and the meal was seasoned with a kind of conversation which horrified Sofya Nikolayevna. Both families were invited to dine at Bagrovo on the following Sunday. By one of those striking inconsistencies in human nature which it is impossible to explain, Mme.

Lupenevsky fell in love at first sight with Sofya Nikolayevna, and used such language to her at parting that her guest must needs either blush or laugh aloud; nevertheless her words were the expression of sincere and even enthusiastic attachment.

The pair reached home an hour before supper-time, and were welcomed with unusual cordiality and pleasure by Stepan Mihailovitch, whom they found sitting on the familiar stoop. He was much amused when he was told that Mme. Lupenevsky had conceived such a pa.s.sion for his daughter-in-law, kissing her repeatedly, claiming that they were kindred spirits, and lavis.h.i.+ng terms of affection upon her. Contrary to custom, the whole family went out again to the stoop after supper, and spent a long time there in cheerful conversation with the master of the household, in the cool of the night and under the starry sky. Stepan Mihailovitch, though he could not have explained why, was fond of the faint colourless light that follows the glow of sunset.

The solemn feast on the Sunday was to be something beyond what had ever been seen at Bagrovo, but nothing special happened on either of the intervening days. Yerlykin came back from Boogoorooslan looking yellow and ill, as he always did after a drinking-bout. Stepan Mihailovitch knew of his son-in-law's unfortunate weakness or disease, and tried to cure him by dosing him with unpalatable drinks, but without success.

When sober, Yerlykin had a loathing for alcohol and could not raise a gla.s.s of wine to his lips without a shudder; but he was seized four times a year with a sudden and irresistible craving for spirits. If the attempt was made to keep drink from him, he became a most pitiable and wretched object, talking constantly and weeping, and begging abjectly for the poison; and if it was still refused, he became frantic and even capable of attempts at suicide. Sofya Nikolayevna, who had heard the whole story, was exceedingly sorry for him. She spoke kindly to him and tried to make him talk to her. But it was no good: the General persisted in his sullen silence and gloomy pride. Instead of being grateful to her sister-in-law, Elizabeth resented these advances to her husband, and expressed her resentment in bitter terms. But Stepan Mihailovitch noticed this and addressed a stern reproof to his clever daughter, who did not love her sister-in-law any the better in consequence.

Stepan Mihailovitch twice took his daughter-in-law out to see his crops of rye and spring-sown wheat, and drove with her to all his favourite water-springs in the hills, and the "Sacred Wood" where the trees had been protected from the axe by a religious service. The old man believed that all these sights were interesting and agreeable to her; but in fact she positively disliked them all. Her sole support was in the thought that she would soon leave Bagrovo and would do her best never to set eyes on it again. If any one had told her that she would spend most of her life there, grow old there, and even die there, she would not have believed it: she would have said that death was preferable, and would have meant what she said. But whatever G.o.d decrees, to that man can become accustomed, and that he can endure.

Sunday came and the guests began to a.s.semble. Mme. Myortvavo came, and the Kalpinskys and Lupenevskys, and two old bachelors, the judge and the mayor of Boogoorooslan. Another guest was Afrosinya Andreyevna (her surname, which was never used, I forget), a spare little old lady and a great talker; she had a small estate near Bagrovo. She was famous for her powers of invention, and Stepan Mihailovitch liked at times to listen to her, as a grown man sometimes listens with pleasure to a fairy tale intended for children.

But Afrosinya Andreyevna deserves that the reader should have at least a bowing acquaintance with her. At one time in her life she had spent ten years in Petersburg to watch a lawsuit; when she won it, she came back to her little estate in the country. She brought back with her from Petersburg a store of anecdotes whose extravagance made Stepan Mihailovitch laugh till he cried. For instance, she used to represent herself as a bosom friend of the Empress Catherine, adding by way of explanation that two people could not live ten years in the same town without being thrown together. "I was in church one day"-she talked this way when she was in the vein-"the people were going out, and the Empress walked past me, and I made a low curtsey and ventured to congratulate her on the festival; and then Her Majesty was so very kind and condescending as to say: 'How are you, Afrosinya Andreyevna? How is your suit going? Why don't you come to see me of an evening and bring your knitting with you? We could chat together and pa.s.s the time pleasantly.'

Of course I never missed an evening after that. I got to know the people about the court, and every one in the palace without a single exception knew me and liked me. Suppose a royal footman was sent anywhere, to buy something it might be, he never failed to look in at my house and tell me all about it. As a matter of course, I always offered him a gla.s.s of something good; I kept a bottle of whisky in the cupboard on purpose. I was sitting by my window one evening when I saw a royal footman in red uniform, with the coat of arms on it, ride past at a gallop; he was soon followed by a second and a third. That was too much for me: I threw up the window and called out, 'Philip Petrovitch! Philip Petrovitch! what are you all galloping for, and why don't you pay me a visit?' 'No time!

Afrosinya Andreyevna!' was his answer; 'a terrible thing has happened: candles will soon be wanted at the palace, and we've run out of them!'

'Stop!' I cried out; 'I have 5 lbs. of candles laid in; you can come in and take them.' Philip Petrovitch was delighted; I carried out the candles with my own hands and relieved the people from their difficulty.

So you see, _batyushka_ Stepan Mihailovitch, they simply couldn't help being fond of me."

Stepan Mihailovitch had many traits of character peculiar to himself; and this was one-though he was a sworn foe to deliberate lying of every kind, and detested the most trifling deception and even the kind of evasion which is sometimes quite excusable, yet he liked listening to the harmless fabrications and fictions of simple people, who were innocently carried away by the vividness of their imagination till they actually came to believe in their own incredible romancing. He liked talking to Afrosinya Andreyevna, not only at a merry party, but also when they were alone together, if he was in the right mood for it; and she spent whole hours in pouring out for his benefit the story of her life in Petersburg, which consisted entirely of such incidents as that which I have already quoted.

But it is time to go back to the guests arriving at Bagrovo. The mayor's _kaftan_44 and the judge's uniform were equally remarkable; but the best sight of all was Kalpinsky: on each side of him stood a female scarecrow in the person of his wife and of her sister, while he himself wore an embroidered coat of French cut, a pair of watch-chains, a number of rings, silk stockings and shoes with gold buckles. All the family wore their best bib and tucker, and even Stepan Mihailovitch was forced to smarten himself up. M. Chichagoff, who had a critical, satirical turn of mind, made fun with much effect of the motley a.s.sembly and especially of his friend Kalpinsky; he was talking all the time to his wife and to her inseparable companion, Sofya Nikolayevna, who sat together and apart from the rest. Sofya Nikolayevna had hard work to keep from laughing: she tried not to listen, and begged Chichagoff either to hold his tongue or to start a conversation with Stepan Mihailovitch, whom he would find worthy of respect. He did so, and soon took a great fancy to the old man; and his feeling was reciprocated. But Stepan Mihailovitch disliked Kalpinsky, both as an upstart and also as an unbeliever and loose-liver.

44 The kaftan is a long cloth coat belted in at the waist.

The splendour of the banquet may be imagined. Stepan Mihailovitch for once resigned all his favourite dishes-haggis, roast ribs of pork, and porridge made of green rye. A _chef_ had been procured, of special skill in the culinary art. Materials of all sorts were provided in abundance-a six-weeks-old calf, a pig fed to monstrous proportions, fat sheep, and poultry of all kinds. It was the custom then to place all the courses at once on the cloth; and the table at Bagrovo could hardly hold them all or support their weight. Cold dishes came first-smoked hams seasoned with garlic; next came green cabbage soup and crayfish soup, with forcemeat b.a.l.l.s and rolls of different kinds; then fish-salad on ice, sturgeon kippered and sturgeon dried, and a dish heaped mountain-high with crayfish tails. Of entrees there were only two: salted quails _aux choux_, and stuffed ducks with a red sauce containing raisins, plums, peaches, and apricots. These entrees were a concession to modern fas.h.i.+on; Stepan Mihailovitch did not like them and called them "kickshaws." They were followed by a turkey of enormous size and fatness, and a hindquarter of veal; the accessories were preserved melons and gourds, apple chips, and pickled mushrooms. The dinner ended up with round jam-tarts and raised apple pies served with thick cream.

All this was washed down with home-made liquors, home-brewed March beer, iced _kva.s.s_, and foaming mead.

Such were the meals which our heroic grandfathers and grandmothers consumed without leaving out a single course, and even managed to digest satisfactorily! But they took their time over it, and the meal went on for hours. The dishes were solid, substantial affairs, as we have seen, and there were plenty of them; and the servants also, both those of the house and those whom the guests brought with them, had no idea of waiting: they bustled about and collided with one another and seemed likely at every moment to spill the sauce or the gravy over some lady's dress.

The dinner was a cheerful meal. The master of the house had Mme.

Myortvavo on his right, and on his left Chichagoff, who steadily rose in his host's good graces and was quite capable, unaided, of enlivening the dullest of parties. The young couple were near the head of the table, with Mme. Chichagoff and Kalpinsky; the latter, while paying constant attentions to the two young women and exchanging an occasional jest with Alexyei Stepanitch, ate for two all the time, to make up for the voluntary abstinence which he practised at home, in his eagerness to save money. Yerlykin sat next to Chichagoff; unlike the rest of the party, he ate little and drank nothing but cold water; he never spoke, but looked gloomy and profound. The lady of the house had her daughters and nieces with other guests near her at table. The party next adjourned to the drawing-room, where there were two tables set out with sweetmeats. On one stood a round cabinet of Chinese porcelain resting on a round metal stand which was gilt and painted in bright colours. The cabinet contained a number of closely-fitting trays, each of which held a different sort of preserved fruit-raspberries, strawberries, cherries, gooseberries, and blackberries; and there were crystallised rose-petals in a small round receptacle at the top. This cabinet, which would be considered very rare and precious nowadays, was a present sent by the bride's father to Stepan Mihailovitch. Small plates were set out on the other table, filled with black and white currants, apricots, peaches, dates, raisins, nuts of many kinds, and almonds in the sh.e.l.l.

Stepan Mihailovitch rose from table in such good spirits that he did not even wish to lie down and rest. All could see-and indeed he wished it to be seen-his pride in his daughter-in-law and his affection for her; and her love and respect for him were as plain to see. During dinner he often turned towards her and asked her to do him some trifling service-to hand something, or pour out something. "Please help me yourself," he would say, "for you and I agree in our tastes"-or, "Just remind me of what I said to you the other day"-or, "Do repeat what you told me yesterday; I seem to have forgotten it." After dinner it was the same: he often asked her to give some order, or to hand him something, and so on. The form of his address was always plain and unpretentious, sometimes even unceremonious; but the tone of affection in which these appeals were expressed left no doubt in the mind of any spectator that he was entirely captivated by his daughter-in-law. And she, I need hardly say, replied with love and grat.i.tude to every token of the stern old man's love for her-tokens often so slight that many would have missed them. Stepan Mihailovitch, who was thoroughly enjoying himself, tried to make Mme. Lupenevsky talk: pretending ignorance, he asked in a loud voice, "Well, Flona, what say you of my daughter-in-law?" The lady's enthusiasm had been raised to a higher pitch by the ale and strong waters she had been drinking. She declared most positively and solemnly that she had fallen in love at first sight with Sofya Nikolayevna, and rather preferred her to her own daughter, Lizanka; and that Alexyei Stepanitch was the most fortunate of men. "It used to be quite another story," said the old man significantly; "don't change back again, my dear!" But now Sofya Nikolayevna, perhaps from a dislike for this topic, strongly urged her father-in-law to go and lie down, if only for a short time. He consented, and she went with him and drew his curtains with her own hand; he asked her to see to the entertainment of the party, and she hurried back, pleased and flattered by this commission. While some lay down to rest, the others crossed to the island and sat on the river-bank in the shade of the trees. Sofya Nikolayevna was reminded of the scene that had taken place there so recently-her unreasonable excitement and the unjust reproaches which had rankled in the mind of her husband. Her heart was full; and, though she saw him now, in perfect content and happiness, laughing loudly at a story which Kalpinsky was telling, she drew him aside, threw her arms round him, and said with tears in her eyes, "Forgive me, my dear, and bury in oblivion all that happened here on the day we came!" Alexyei Stepanitch had a strong objection to tears; but he kissed both her hands and said good-humouredly, "How can you recall such a trifle, my darling?

You are quite wrong to trouble yourself." Then he hurried back to hear the end of the story, which was very amusing as Kalpinsky told it.

Though there was really no cause for distress, Sofya Nikolayevna felt a momentary heartache.

The master of the house soon woke and summoned all the party to join him by the stoop. Tables and chairs were placed in the broad thick shadow cast by the house; and the _samovar_ was soon hissing. Tea was poured out by Sofya Nikolayevna; there were rolls and scones and cream so thick that it had a golden tinge on it; and for all this some at least of the guests still found room. The Kalpinskys and Mme. Lupenevsky went off after tea: there was positively no room for them to sleep at Bagrovo, and they had not far to go, only fifteen _versts_. The guests from Boogoorooslan also took their leave.

Mme. Myortvavo and her party left early next morning, and the Yerlykins after dinner, to prepare for a visit from the young couple on their way back to Ufa. The same evening Stepan Mihailovitch announced quite frankly that the time had come for the rest of the party to disperse: he wished to spend the last days alone with his son and daughter-in-law, and to enjoy their society without interruption. As a matter of course, his wishes were carried out. Alexandra said "good-bye" to her sister-in-law as graciously as she could, and the sister-in-law said "good-bye" to her with unfeigned satisfaction. Her secret wish to spend some days without the hateful presence of Elizabeth and Alexandra had been divined by Stepan Mihailovitch; and she blessed him in her thoughts for his power of intuition. Aksinya was quite different; and Sofya Nikolayevna parted from her with feelings of grat.i.tude and real affection. None of this escaped the old man's keen eyes. Tanyusha and her mother caused no constraint, partly because they were more good-tempered and friendly to their guest, and also because they often withdrew and left the others to their own devices.

The three remaining days were spent at Bagrovo in perfect peace of mind, untroubled by malevolent observation or pretences of affection or venomous innuendoes. The strain on Sofya Nikolayevna's nerves was relaxed, and she was able to take her bearings with less prejudice and study the peculiarities of the little world in which she found herself.

In spite of their complete unlikeness to herself, she could now understand her mother-in-law and Tanyusha better, and make allowances for them; she could form a cooler judgment of Stepan Mihailovitch, and could understand how her husband came to be what he was. To some extent she realised that Alexyei could not be entirely changed, and that the time was distant-perhaps it would never come-when misunderstandings between them would cease. But this last thought pa.s.sed too lightly through her mind; and the old dream, that she could educate her husband over again and make a new man of him, took fresh hold of her eager imagination. What happens to most young wives in the course of life was happening now to Sofya Nikolayevna: she found in her husband a certain inferiority, certain limitations of feeling and perception; and though her love for him was none the less pa.s.sionate on that account, she was beginning to feel vaguely dissatisfied with his love for her, because he found room in his heart for other things-the pond and the island, the steppe and its population of snipe, the river and those horrid fis.h.!.+ A feeling of jealousy, though directed to no definite object as yet, was lurking at her heart; and she felt a dim presentiment of coming disaster.

Stepan Mihailovitch also had been somewhat taken up hitherto by constant observation of the feelings and actions of his daughters; but now he was more at leisure to attend to his daughter-in-law and his son also. For all his want of education and rough-and-ready way of expressing himself, his natural sagacity and power of intuition revealed to him the whole difference of character between the two; and he found here matter for serious reflexion. Their present love for one another was a pleasant sight to him, and he felt happy when he saw Sofya Nikolayevna's eyes constantly fixed on her husband and her eager desire to please him; but his happiness had a shade of fear and of disbelief in the solidity and permanence of a state of things in itself so charming. He would have liked to speak his mind on the subject, to give them some hints or some useful advice; but, whenever he began, he could not find the right words for thoughts and feelings which he could not make clear even to himself; and he went no further than those trivial commonplaces which, for all their triviality, have been bequeathed to us by the practical wisdom of past generations and are verified by our own experience. His failure troubled him, and he said so frankly to his daughter-in-law. She was a clever woman, yet she failed to understand the thoughts which the old man was turning over in his brain, and the feeling hidden in his heart.

To his son he said: "Your wife is very clever and very excitable. Her tongue will probably run away with her at times; if so, don't be weak with her: stop her at once, and make her see her mistake. Scold her, but forgive her at once; if she displeases you, don't be sullen or keep up resentment; have it all out with her at once. But trust her absolutely; she is as true as steel." Again, when he was alone with Sofya Nikolayevna, he said to her: "My dear daughter-in-law, G.o.d has given you many good gifts. I have only one thing to say to you: don't give the reins to your impetuous temper. Your husband is honest and kind; his temper is mild, and he will never willingly hurt your feelings; don't you hurt his. Honour him and treat him with respect. If you cease to respect your husband, things will go wrong. Suppose he says or does something you don't like, then say nothing; don't be too exacting, and don't expect perfection. I can see you through and through, and I love you dearly. For G.o.d's sake, don't fill the cup till it runs over: anything can be overdone, even a wife's devotion to her husband."

The advice was received as always by his son with profound respect, and by Sofya Nikolayevna with the ardent grat.i.tude of a daughter. There was much talk on other subjects-their future life at Ufa, the husband's prospects in his profession, and the means of defraying their expenditure. Definite arrangements were made on all points, and all parties were satisfied.

And now the day came for their departure. The silk curtains in the bedroom were taken down; the muslin and satin pillow-cases with broad lace edging were taken off the pillows; and all this finery was packed up and dispatched to Ufa. Pies of different kinds were baked for the travellers. Father Va.s.sili was summoned once more, and the prayers for those "travelling by land or by water" were said. Fresh horses were to be in readiness at Korovino, forty _versts_ away; to that point they were to be taken by the Bagrovo horses, the same fine team of six which had conveyed the pair on their ceremonial visits. They dined together for the last time; and for the last time Stepan Mihailovitch pressed his favourite dishes on his daughter-in-law. The carriage was already standing at the steps. When the party rose from table, they went to the drawing-room and sat there in silence for some minutes. Then Stepan Mihailovitch crossed himself and rose to his feet; the rest followed his example, said a prayer,45 and began their good-byes. All shed tears except Stepan Mihailovitch, and even he had hard work to refrain. He embraced his daughter-in-law and gave her his blessing; then he whispered in her ear, "Mind, I look forward to a little grandson." She blushed up to the ears and kissed his hands without speaking; and now he did not resist her doing so. All the outdoor servants and most of the peasants were standing by the steps. Some of them had half a mind to come forward and say farewell to their young master and mistress; but Stepan Mihailovitch, who hated good-byes and parting scenes, called out, "What are you up to there? Make your bow, and that will be enough!"

Sofya Nikolayevna had only time to exchange greetings with one or two of the people. They took their seats quickly, and the strong horses started off with the carriage as if it had been a mere feather. Stepan Mihailovitch shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand; for some minutes he tried to make out the moving carriage in the cloud of dust which followed it; and, when it had reached the stackyard at the top of the hill, he went back to his own room and lay down to sleep.

45 In prayers of this kind, nothing is said aloud: the wors.h.i.+pper turns towards the _ikons_ on the wall and crosses himself.

FRAGMENT V: LIFE AT UFA

During the first few minutes Sofya Nikolayevna felt sorry for her father-in-law and sad to part with him. The image of the old man who had learnt to love her and was suffering now from the separation, came vividly before her. But before long the easy motion of the carriage, with the fleeting glimpses of fields and coppices and the outline of the hills along which they were driving, had a soothing effect upon her mind; and she began to feel heartily glad that she had left Bagrovo. Her joy was too great to be concealed, though she realised that her husband would not like it. He, she thought, was sadder than he had any business to be. Some explanations might possibly have followed, but were fortunately prevented by the presence of Parasha. The carriage rolled quickly through the village of Noikino, where it was saluted by hearty shouts from the Mordvinians, and then crossed the river Nasyagai by a crazy bridge. They crossed the same river again and pa.s.sed through the village of Polibino, and came at last to Korovino, where a fresh team was waiting for their arrival; their own horses were to rest there for some hours and return to Bagrovo in the evening.

Sofya Nikolayevna had provided herself with writing materials, and now she wrote a warm letter of thanks to her husband's parents. It was intended especially for Stepan Mihailovitch; and he understood this perfectly and hid the letter in the secret drawer of the modest writing-desk which satisfied his needs; and there Sofya Nikolayevna came upon her own letter unexpectedly eight years afterwards, when the old man was in his grave. The horses were put to, good-byes were said to the coachman and postilion-long-legged Tanaichonok was acting as postilion on this occasion-and the pair resumed their journey. Fortune was kind at this point to Sofya Nikolayevna: it proved impossible to get to the Yerlykins' house, and thus she was saved from a most tiresome and oppressive visit. A deep river on the way had to be crossed, and the bridge had rotted and collapsed. As it would take a long time to mend it, the young couple could keep straight on towards Ufa. As they got near the town, Sofya Nikolayevna could think of nothing but her sick father, who had not seen her for more than a fortnight; he had been left in the care of servants and must be feeling lonely and eager for his daughter's return. The travellers took a full hour to cross the river Byelaya in a crazy ferry-boat; and the ascent of the steep hill on the other side took time. Before it was over, Sofya Nikolayevna was very impatient and in great agitation. At last she got to the house. In a fever of excitement she hurried to her father's room and softly opened the door. He was lying in his usual position; and near him, on the very armchair which was usually occupied by Sofya Nikolayevna herself, his servant Nikolai was sitting.

This man was a Kalmuck, and I must tell something of his history. In those distant times it was a common practice in the district of Ufa to buy native boys and girls, either Kalmucks or Kirghizes, from their parents or relations, and to make use of them later as serfs. Forty years before the date of my story, M. Zubin had bought two Kalmuck boys.

He had them baptized, became fond of them, and made pets of them. He had them taught to read and write; and, when they grew up, they became his personal servants. Both of them were intelligent and neat-handed and appeared to be very devoted; but, when Pugatchoff46 raised the standard of revolt, they both ran off and joined the rebels. One of them soon lost his life; but the other, who had been his master's favourite and was called Nikolai, now became the favourite of one Chika, who was prominent among the rebels and stood high in the favour of Pugatchoff himself. It is well known that one band of the revolters was encamped for a long time near Ufa, on the opposite bank of the river Byelaya.

Nikolai was in this camp and had by this time been promoted to a position of some authority. It was said that he was fiercer than any of them and breathed fire and slaughter against no one so much as his old master who had brought him up. Tradition tells that, whenever the rebels were preparing to cross the river and fall upon the defenceless town, they saw a great army march out to defend the heights on the opposite bank, and an ancient warrior at their head, riding on a snow-white horse, and holding a spear in one hand and a Cross in the other. The cowardly band of outlaws were terrified by this vision and desisted from all their attempts; and they had done nothing when the news came that Pugatchoff was defeated. Of course they scattered at once. The revolt came to an end, and the scattered rabble were seized and brought to trial. Nikolai, who was one of these, was condemned to the gallows. I cannot vouch for the truth of this; but I have been a.s.sured that, after his trial at Ufa, the noose was actually round his neck, when M. Zubin claimed the privilege which he possessed as a landholder, pardoned his old favourite, and took him home, undertaking to be responsible himself for the criminal's behaviour. Nikolai seemed penitent and tried by zeal and devotion to atone for his crime. By degrees he contrived to get back into his master's confidence; and, when Sofya Nikolayevna, after her stepmother's death, took over the management of the household, she found Nikolai established as butler; he had been a favourite with her stepmother, and this now became a pa.s.sport to her father's goodwill.

Nikolai had been guilty of much insolence to his young mistress during her time of humiliation; but he was a very cunning fellow and quite realised his present position. He played the part of the repentant sinner, throwing all the guilt on the stepmother, and blaming himself for the slavish spirit in which he had carried out her orders. It would have been quite easy for Sofya Nikolayevna to get rid of him for good and all; but her youth and generous nature made her believe that his repentance was genuine. She pardoned him, and actually begged her father to leave him in his old position. As time went on, she was sometimes vexed by the way in which he settled things without consulting her, and she felt doubts about his honesty. She noticed also that his intimacy with her father, though concealed from her, was closer than she liked.

But he was very zealous in his attendance upon his sick master, sleeping always in the same room, and also found time to do his work as butler exceedingly well. She was therefore content with mild reproofs, and the man was left free to take root at leisure in his double office. When she became engaged, she had to see herself to the buying of her wedding-clothes and to spend much time with her future husband; and so she was less with her father and gave less attention to household affairs. Nikolai took full advantage of this opportunity, and his power over the old invalid increased daily. Hoping soon to get rid of his mistress and to become master of the house himself, he grew more insolent and less careful to conceal his power. Sofya Nikolayevna sometimes snubbed him sharply; she was grieved to see her father's increasing dependence on this man and abdication of his own authority.

46 See note to p. 67 (Transcriber: note 33).

Nikolai had made full use of the few days that preceded and followed the marriage, and of her absence for a fortnight at Bagrovo: his master, now at death's door, was completely under his control. Sofya Nikolayevna guessed the true state of affairs as soon as she saw the man lying asleep in the armchair; never before had he ventured on such a liberty.

She gave him a look which sent him in some haste and confusion out of the room. Her father was by no means as pleased to see her as she expected; he made haste to tell her that Nikolai was not to blame: "It is at my urgent wish," he said, "that he sometimes takes a seat at my bedside." "It is a pity you do that, father," she said; "you will spoil him altogether and be forced to turn him off; I know him better than you do." Then, without entering upon further explanations, she expressed her joy at having found him no worse. Alexyei Stepanitch soon came in, and then the old man, touched by his daughter's unfeigned tenderness, his son-in-law's attentive behaviour, and the love between husband and wife, listened with pleasure to their narrative and thanked G.o.d with tears for their happiness.

Sofya Nikolayevna began at once the business of instalment. She chose three rooms, quite separate from the rest, for their own occupation; and in a few days her arrangements were so complete that she could receive her own guests without any disturbance to her father. It was her intention to arrange as before about the management of the house and the attendance on her father, and to a.s.sign to Nikolai the subordinate part of carrying out her instructions; but the man had always hated her, and now felt himself strong enough to declare open war against his young mistress. While attending to the father more zealously than ever, he contrived with extraordinary cunning to insult the daughter at every turn; and to Alexyei Stepanitch he was so insolent that the young man lost patience, in spite of his easy and unexacting temper, and told his wife that he could not possibly put up with the position. For some time Sofya Nikolayevna did not trouble her father, hoping by her own influence to keep Nikolai within the bounds of reasonable politeness; she relied upon his intelligence, and also believed that he knew her determined character and would not venture to drive her to extremities.

But the malicious Asiatic-this was the servants' name for him-was convinced beforehand that he would conquer, and tried to provoke Sofya Nikolayevna into some pa.s.sionate outburst. Long ago he had been able to instill into his master the belief that the young lady could not endure her father's faithful servant and would certainly try to turn him out of the house. The invalid was horrified by this prospect, and solemnly declared that he would prefer death to such a deprivation. Sofya Nikolayevna tried to hint to her father in very gentle and affectionate terms that Nikolai forgot himself in his behaviour to her husband and neglected to carry out her orders; it seemed to be his intention to provoke her to anger. But her father became agitated and refused to listen: he said that he was perfectly satisfied with Nikolai, and begged her not to trouble the butler but to give her orders to some other servant. Young and impulsive, and accustomed to undisputed authority in her father's house, Sofya Nikolayevna found it hard to endure the insulting behaviour of an unworthy menial; yet her love for her father, and her desire to nurse and comfort him and alleviate his sufferings as far as possible, kept her for long from the idea of leaving him in that dying state to depend entirely upon such a wretch as Nikolai and other servants. She controlled her impulsiveness and injured pride; she gave her household orders through one of the other servants, knowing all the time that all her instructions were altered by her enemy at his will and pleasure. She induced her father to order that Nikolai should not enter the sick-room while she was sitting there. But this arrangement soon broke down: under various pretexts, the man constantly came into the room; and indeed the invalid himself constantly asked for him. This painful situation continued for several months.