Uncle's dream; And The Permanent Husband Part 34

At this moment, Mavra entered with the champagne.

"Here it is!" cried Pavel Pavlovitch, immensely delighted at the appearance of the wine. "Now then, tumblers my good girl, tumblers quick!

Capital! Thank you, we don't require you any more, my good Mavra. What!

you've drawn the cork? Excellent creature. Well, ta-ta! off with you."

Mavra's advent with the bottle so encouraged him that he again looked at Velchaninoff with some defiance.

"Now confess," he giggled suddenly, "confess that you are very curious indeed to hear about all this, and that it is by no means 'entirely the same to you,' as you declared! Confess that you would be miserable if I were to get up and go away this very minute without telling you anything more."

"Not the least in the world, I a.s.sure you!"

Pavel Pavlovitch smiled; and his smile said, as plainly as words could, "That's a lie!"

"Well, let's to business," he said, and poured out two gla.s.ses of champagne.

"Here's a toast," he continued, raising his goblet, "to the health in Paradise of our dear departed friend Bagantoff."

He raised his gla.s.s and drank.

"I won't drink such a toast as that!" said Velchaninoff; and put his gla.s.s down on the table.

"Why not? It's a very pretty toast."

"Look here, were you drunk when you came here?"

"A little; why?"

"Oh-nothing particular. Only it appeared to me that yesterday, and especially this morning, you were sincerely sorry for the loss of Natalia Vasilievna."

"And who says I am not sorry now?" cried Pavel Pavlovitch, as if somebody had pulled a string and made him snap the words out, like a doll.

"No, I don't mean that; but you must admit you may be in error about Bagantoff; and that's a serious matter!"

Pavel Pavlovitch grinned and gave a wink.

"Hey! Wouldn't you just like to know how I found out about Bagantoff, eh?"

Velchaninoff blushed.

"I repeat, it's all the same to me," he said; and added to himself, "Hadn't I better pitch him and the bottle out of the window together." He was blus.h.i.+ng more and more now.

Pavel Pavlovitch poured himself out another gla.s.s.

"I'll tell you directly how I found out all about Mr. Bagantoff, and your burning wish shall be satisfied. For you are a fiery sort of man, you know, Alexey Ivanovitch, oh, dreadfully so! Ha-ha-ha. Just give me a cigarette first, will you, for ever since March--"

"Here's a cigarette for you."

"Ever since March I have been a depraved man, sir, and this is how it all came about. Listen. Consumption, as you know, my dear friend" (Pavel Pavlovitch was growing more and more familiar!), "is an interesting malady. One sees a man dying of consumption without a suspicion that to-morrow is to be his last day. Well, I told you how Natalia Vasilievna, up to five hours before her death, talked about going to visit her aunt, who lived thirty miles or so away, and starting in a fortnight. You know how some ladies-and gentlemen, too, I daresay-have the bad habit of keeping a lot of old rubbish by them, in the way of love-letters and so on. It would be much safer to stick them all into the fire, wouldn't it?

But no, they must keep every little sc.r.a.p of paper in drawers and desks, and endorse it and cla.s.sify it, and tie it up in bundles, for each year and month and cla.s.s! I don't know whether they find this consoling to their feelings afterwards, or what. Well, since she was arranging a visit to her aunt just five hours before her death, Natalia Vasilievna naturally did not expect to die so soon; in fact, she was expecting old Doctor Koch down till the last; and so, when Natalia Vasilievna _did_ die, she left behind her a beautiful little black desk all inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and bound with silver, in her bureau; oh, a lovely little box, an heirloom left her by her grandmother, with a lock and key all complete. Well, sir, in this box everything-I mean _everything_, you know, for every day and hour for the last twenty years-was disclosed; and since Mr. Bagantoff had a decided taste for literature (indeed, he had published a pa.s.sionate novel once, I am told, in a newspaper!)-consequently there were about a hundred examples of his genius in the desk, ranging over a period of five years. Some of these talented effusions were covered with pencilled remarks by Natalia Vasilievna herself! Pleasant, that, for a fond husband's feelings, sir, eh?"

Velchaninoff quickly cast his thoughts back over the past, and remembered that he had never written a single letter or a single note to Natalia Vasilievna.

He had written a couple of letters from St. Petersburg, but, according to a previous arrangement, he had addressed them to both Mr. and Mrs.

Trusotsky together. He had not answered Natalia Vasilievna's last letter-which had contained his dismissal-at all.

Having ended his speech, Pavel Pavlovitch relapsed into silence, and sat smiling repulsively for a whole minute or so.

"Why don't you answer my question, my friend?" he asked, at length, evidently disturbed by Velchaninoff's silence.

"What question?"

"As to the pleasure I must have felt as a fond husband, upon opening the desk."

"Your feelings are no business of mine!" said the other bitterly, rising and commencing to stride up and down the room.

"I wouldn't mind betting that you are thinking at this very moment: 'What a pig of a fellow he is to parade his shame like this!' Ha-ha! dear me, what a squeamish gentleman you are to be sure!"

"Not at all. I was thinking nothing of the sort; on the contrary, I consider that you are-besides being more or less intoxicated-so put out by the death of the man who has injured you that you are not yourself.

There's nothing surprising in it at all! I quite understand why you wish Bagantoff were still alive, and am ready to respect your annoyance, but--"

"And pray _why_ do you suppose that I wish Bagantoff were alive?"

"Oh, that's your affair!"

"I'll take my oath you are thinking of a duel!"

"Devil take it, sir!" cried Velchaninoff, obliged to hold himself tighter than ever. "I was thinking that you, like every respectable person in similar circ.u.mstances, would act openly and candidly and straightforwardly, and not humiliate yourself with comical antics and silly grimaces, and ridiculous complaints and detestable innuendoes, which only heap greater shame upon you. I say I was thinking you would act like a respectable person."

"Ha-ha-ha!-but perhaps I am _not_ a respectable person!"

"Oh, well, that's your own affair again and yet, if so, what in the devil's name could you want with Bagantoff alive?"

"Oh, my dear sir, I should have liked just to have a nice peep at a dear old friend, that's all. We should have got hold of a bottle of wine, and drunk it together!"

"He wouldn't have drunk with _you_!"

"Why not? _n.o.blesse oblige?_ Why, _you_ are drinking with me. Wherein is he better than you?"

"I have not drunk with you."

"Wherefore this sudden pride, sir?"

Velchaninoff suddenly burst into a fit of nervous, irritable laughter.

"Why, deuce take it all!" he cried, "you are quite a different type to what I believed. I thought you were nothing but a 'permanent husband,' but I find you are a sort of bird of prey."

"What! 'permanent husband?' What is a 'permanent husband?' " asked Pavel Pavlovitch, p.r.i.c.king up his ears.

"Oh-just one type of husbands-that's all, it's too long to explain. Come, you'd better get out now; it's quite time you went. I'm sick of you!"