Obryv. English

  CHAPTER XIII

  For three days the impression of this Sunday morning breakfast remainedwith Raisky. He had been surprised by this sudden transformation ofTatiana Markovna from grandmother and kindly hostess into a lioness, buthe had been still more agitated by Vera's kiss. He could have wept foremotion, and would like to have built new hopes on it, but it was a kissthat led no further, a flash of lightning immediately extinguished.

  Raisky kept his promise, and neither went to Vera's room, nor followedher; he saw her only at meals and then rarely talked to her. Hesucceeded in hiding from her the fact that she still occupied histhoughts; he would like to have wiped out of her recollection his hastyrevelation of himself to her.

  Then he began a portrait of Tatiana Markovna, and occupied himselfseriously with the plan of his novel. With Vera as the central figure,and the scene his own estate and the bank of the Volga his fancy tookshape and the secret of artistic creation became clear to him.

  It chanced once or twice that he found himself walking with Vera. Gailyand almost indifferently he poured out for her his store of thought andknowledge, even of anecdote, as he might do to any amiable, cleverstranger, without second thoughts or any wish to reap an advantage. Heled in fact a peaceful, pleasant life, demanding nothing and regrettingnothing. He perceived with satisfaction that Vera no longer avoided him,that she confided in him and drew closer to him; she would herself cometo his room to fetch books, and he made no effort to retain her.

  They often spent the afternoon with Tatiana Markovna. Vera apparentlyliked to hear him talk, and smiled at his jokes, though from time totime she would get up suddenly in the middle of a sentence when he wasreading aloud or talking, and with some slight excuse, go out and notappear again for hours. He made no effort to follow her.

  He found recreation with friends in the town, driving occasionally withthe Governor or taking part with Marfinka and Vera in some ruralentertainment.

  The month which Mark had set as a limit for their wager, was nearly over,and Raisky felt himself free from passion. At least he thought so, andput down all his symptoms to the working of his imagination and tocuriosity. On some days even Vera appeared to him in the same light asMarfinka. He saw in them two charming young girls, only late left schoolwith all the ideas and adorations of the schoolgirl, with theschoolgirl's dream-theory of life, which is only shattered by experience.He told himself that he was absolutely cold and indifferent, and in aposition truthfully to call himself her friend. He would shortly leavethe place, but before that he must visit "Barabbas," take his last pairof trousers, and warn him against making a wager.

  He went to Leonti to ask where Mark was to be found and discovered themboth at breakfast.

  "You might develop into a decent individual," cried Mark to him, "if youwere a little bolder."

  "You mean if I had the boldness to shoot my neighbour or to storm an innby night."

  "How will you take an inn by storm? Besides, there is no need, sinceyour aunt has her own guesthouse. Many thanks for having chased that oldswine from your house, I am told in conjunction with Tatiana Markovna.Splendid!"

  "Where did you hear that?"

  "The whole town is talking of it. I wanted to come and show my respectto you, when I suddenly heard that you were on friendly terms with theGovernor, had invited him to your house, and that you and your aunt hadstood on your hind paws before him. That is abominable, when I thoughtyou had only invited him to show him the door."

  "That is what is called bourgeois courage, I believe."

  "I don't know what it is called, but I can best give you an example ofthe kind of courage. For some time the police inspector has beensniffing round our vegetable garden, so probably his Excellency has beenkind enough to show an interest in me, and to enquire after my healthand amusements. Well, I am training a couple of bull-dogs, and I hadn'thad them a week before the garden was clear of cats. I have them readyat dark, and if the Colonel or his suite arrive, I shall let my beastsloose. Of course it will happen by accident."

  "I have come to say goodbye, for I am leaving here shortly."

  "You are going away?" asked Mark in astonishment, then added in a low,serious voice, "I should like to have a word with you."

  "Speak, by all means. Is it a question of money again?"

  "Money as far as I am concerned, but it is not of that I wish to speakto you. I will come to you later. I cannot speak of that now," he saidlooking significantly at Koslov's wife to indicate that he could notexplain himself in her presence.

  "No one will let you go?" whispered Juliana Andreevna. "I have not oncespoken to you out of hearing of my husband."

  "Have you brought the money with you," asked Mark suddenly, "the threehundred roubles for the wager?"

  "Where is the pair of trousers?" asked Raisky ironically.

  "I am not joking; you must pay me my three hundred roubles."

  "Why? I am not in love as you see."

  "I see that you are head over ears in love."

  "How do you see that."

  "In your face."

  "The month is past, and with it the wager at an end. As I don't need thetrousers I will make you a present of them to go with the coat."

  "How can you go away?" complained Leonti. "And the books--"

  "What books?"

  "Your books. See for yourself by the catalogue that they are all right."

  "I have made you a present of them."

  "Be serious for a moment. Where shall I send them?"

  "Goodbye. I have no time to spare. Don't come to me with the books, or Iwill burn them. And you, wise man, who can tell a lover by his face,farewell. I don't know whether we shall meet again."

  "Where is the money? It isn't honest not to surrender it. I see thepresence of love, which like measles has not yet come out, but soon will.Your face is already red. How tiresome that I fixed a limit, and so losethree hundred roubles by my own stupidity."

  "Goodbye."

  "You will not go," said Mark with decision.

  "I shall have another opportunity of seeing you, Koslov. I am notstarting until next week."

  "You will not go," repeated Mark.

  "What about your novel?" asked Leonti. "You intended to finish it here."

  "I am already near the end of it, though there is still some arrangingto be done, which I can do in St. Petersburg."

  "You will not end your romance either, neither the paper one nor thereal one." said Mark.

  Raisky was about to answer, but thought better of it, and was quicklygone.

  "Why do you think he won't finish the novel?" asked Leonti.

  "He is only half a man," replied Mark with a scornful, bitter laugh.

  Raisky walked in the direction of home. His victory over himself seemedso assured that he was ashamed of his earlier weakness. He pictured tohimself how he would now appear to her in a new and surprising guise,bold, deliberately scornful, with neither eyes nor desire for her beauty;and he pictured her astonishment and sorrow.

  In his impatience to see the effect of this new development in himselfhe stole into her room and crossed the carpet without betraying hispresence. She sat with her elbows on the table, reading a letter,written as he noticed on blue paper in irregular lines and sealed withcommon blackish-brown sealing wax.

  "Vera!" he said in a low voice. She shrank back with such obviousterror that he too trembled, then quickly put the letter in her pocket.

  They looked at one another without stirring.

  "You are busy. Excuse my coming," he said, and took a step backward, asif to leave her.

  She made no answer, but, gradually recovering her self-possession, andwithout removing her eyes from his face she advanced towards him withher hand still in her pocket.

  "It must be a very interesting letter and a great secret," he said witha forced laugh, "since you conceal it so quickly."

  With her eyes still upon him she sat down on the divan.

  "Show me the letter," he laughed, betraying his agitation
by a tremor ofthe voice. "You will not show it?" he went on as she looked at him inamazement and pressed her hand tighter in her pocket.

  She shook her head.

  "I don't need to read it. What possible interest could I have in anotherperson's letter? I only wanted a proof of your confidence, of yourfriendly disposition towards me. You see my indifference. See, I am notas I was," he said, telling himself at the same time that the letterobsessed him.

  She tried, to read in his face the indifference in which he wasinsisting. His face indeed wore an aspect of indifference, but his voicesounded as if he were pleading for alms.

  "You will not show it," he said. "Then God be with you," and he turnedto the door.

  "Wait," she said, putting her hand in her pocket and drawing out aletter which she showed him.

  He looked at both sides, and glanced at the signature, Pauline Kritzki.

  "That is not the letter," he said, returning it.

  "Do you see another?" she asked drily.

  He replied that he had not, fearing that she might accuse him of spying,and at her request began to read:

  "Ma belle chamante divine Vera Vassilievna! I am enraptured and fall onmy knees before your dear, noble, handsome cousin; he has avenged me,and I am triumphant and weep for joy. He was great. Tell him that he isever my knight, that I am his devoted slave. Ah, how I admire him, Iwould say--the word is on the tip of my tongue--but I dare not. Yet whyshould I not? Yes, I love him, I adore him. Everyone must adore him...."

  Here Raisky attempted to return the letter, but Vera bade him continue,as there was a request for him. He skipped a few lines and proceeded:--

  "Implore your cousin (he adores you. Do not deny it, for I have seen hispassionate glances. What would I not give to be in your place).

  "Implore your cousin, darling Vera Vassilievna, to paint my portrait. Idon't really care about the portrait, but to be with an artist to admirehim, to speak to him, to breathe the same air with him! _Ma pauvretete, je deviens folle. Je compte sur vous, ma belle et bonne amie, etj'attends la reponse_."

  "What answer shall I give her?" asked Vera, as Raisky laid the letter onthe table.

  He was thinking of the other letter, wondering why she had hidden it,and did not hear her question.

  "May I write that you agree?"

  "God forbid! on no account."

  "How is it to be done then? She wants to breathe the same air as you."

  "I should stifle in that atmosphere."

  "But if I ask you to do it?" whispered Vera.

  "You, what difference can it make to you?" he asked trembling.

  "I should like to say something pleasant to her," she returned, but didnot add that she seized this means of detaching him from herself.Paulina Karpovna would not lightly let him out of her hands.

  "Should you accept it as a sign of friendship if I fulfilled your wish?Well, then," as she nodded, "I make two conditions, one that you shouldbe present at the sittings. Otherwise I should be clearing out at thefirst sitting. Do you agree?" Then, as she nodded unwillingly, "thesecond is that you show me the other letter."

  "Which letter?"

  "The one you hid so quickly in your pocket."

  "There isn't another."

  "You would not have hidden this letter in terror; will you show theother?"

  "You are beginning again," she said reproachfully.

  "You need not trouble. I was only jesting. But for God's sake do notlook on me as a despot or a spy; it was mere curiosity. God be with youand your secrets."

  "I have no secrets," she returned drily as he rose to go.

  "Do you know that I am soon leaving?" he asked suddenly.

  "I heard so; is it true?"

  "Why do you doubt?"

  She dropped her eyes and said nothing.

  "You will be glad for me to go?"

  "Yes," she answered in a whisper.

  "Why," he said sadly, and came nearer.

  She thought for a moment, drew out another letter, glanced through it,carefully scratching out a word or a line here and there, and handed itto him.

  "Read that letter," she said, again slipping her hand into her pocket.

  He began to read the delicate handwriting: "I am sorry, dear Natasha,"and then asked, "Who is Natasha?"

  "The priest's wife, my school friend."

  "Ah! the pope's wife. It is your own letter. That is interesting," andhe became absorbed in the reading.

  "I am sorry, dear Natasha," the letter ran, "that I have not written toyou since my return. As usual I have been idle, but I had other reasons,which you shall learn. The chief reason you already know (here somewords were scratched out), which agitates me very much. But of that wewill speak when we meet.

  "The other reason is the arrival of our relative, Boris Pavlovich Raisky.For my misfortune he scarcely ever leaves the house, so that for afortnight I did hardly anything except hide from him. What an abundanceof reason, of different kinds of knowledge, of brilliance, of talent hebrought with him, and with it all what unrest. He upsets the wholehousehold. He had hardly arrived before he was seized with the firmconviction that not only the estate, but all that lived on it, were hisproperty. Taking his stand on a relationship, which hardly deserves thename, and on the fact that he knew us when we were little, he treated usas if we were children or schoolgirls. Although I have hidden myselffrom him, I have only just succeeded in preventing him from seeing how Isleep and dream, and what I hope and wait for.

  "This pursuit has almost made me ill, and I have seen no one, written tono one. I feel like a prisoner. It is as if he were playing with me,perhaps quite against his own will. One day he is cold and indifferent,the next his eyes are ablaze, and I fear him as I would a madman. Theworst of all seems to me to be that he does not know himself, so that noreliance can be placed on his plans and promises; he decides on onecourse, and the next day takes another. He himself says he is nervous,susceptible and passionate, and he may be right. He is no play actor,and does not disguise himself; he is, I think, too sensible andwell-bred, indeed, too honest, for that.

  "He is by way of being an artist, draws, writes, improvises very nicelyon the piano, and dreams of art. Yet it seems to me that he doessubstantially nothing, but is spending his life, as he says, in theadoration of beauty; he is a lover by temperament, like (do youremember?) Dashenka Sfemechkin, who fell in love with a Spanish prince,whose portrait she had seen in a German calendar, and would admit no one,not even the piano-tuner, Kish. But Boris Pavlovich is full of kindnessand honour, is upright, gay, original, but all these qualities are sodisconnected and uncertain in their expression that we don't know whatto make of them. Now he seeks my friendship, but I am afraid of him, amafraid he may do anything, am afraid (here some lines were crossed out).Ah, if only he would go away. It is terrible to think he may one day(here again words were crossed out).

  "And I need one thing--rest. The doctor says I am nervous, must sparemyself, and avoid all agitation. Thank God, he is also attached toGrandmother, and I am left in peace. I do not want to step out of thecircle I have drawn for myself; and nobody else should cross the line.In its sanctity lies my peace and my whole happiness.

  "If Raisky oversteps this line, the only course that remains to me is tofly from here. That is easy to say, but where? And then I have someconscience about it, because he is so good, so kind to me and my sister,and means to make a gift to us of this place, this Paradise, where Ihave learned to live and not to vegetate. It lies on my conscience thathe should squander these undeserved tokens of affection, that he triesto be brilliant for my sake, and to awaken in me some affection,although I have denied him every hope. Ah, if he only knew how vain hisefforts are.

  "Now I will tell you about _him_...."

  The letter went no further, and Raisky looked at the lines as if he weretrying to read behind them. Vera had said practically nothing aboutherself; she remained in the shadow, while the whole garish light fellon him.

  "There was another letter," he said
sharply, "written on blue paper."

  Vera had not left the room, but someone's hand was on the lock.

  "Who is there?" asked Raisky with a start.

  In the doorway appeared Vassilissa's anxious face.

  "It's I," she said in a low voice. "It's a good thing you are here,Boris Pavlovich; they are asking for you. Please make haste. There isnobody in the hall. Yakob is at church. Egorka has been sent to theVolga for some fish, and I am alone with Pashutka."

  "Who is asking for me?"

  "A gendarme from the Governor. The Governor asks you to go to see him,at once, if possible, if not to-morrow morning. The business ispressing."

  "Very well. I will go."

  "Please, as quickly as possible. Then _he_ has also come."

  "Who?"

  "The man they would like to horsewhip. He has made himself at home inthe hall, and is waiting for you. The Mistress and Marfa Vassilievnahave not yet returned from the town."

  "Didn't you ask his name?"

  "He gave his name, but I have forgotten. He is the man who stayed thenight with you when you were drinking. Please, Boris Pavlovich, be quick.Pashutka and I have locked ourselves in."

  "Why?"

  "Because we were afraid. I climbed out of the window into the yard tocome and tell you. If only he does not nose anything out."

  Raisky went with her, laughing. He sent a message by the gendarme thathe would be with the Governor in an hour. Then he sought out Mark andled him into his room.

  "Do you wish to spend the night with me?" he asked ironically.

  "I am indeed a nightbird," answered Mark, who looked anxious. "I receivetoo much attention in the daytime, and it puts less shame on your Aunt'shouse. The magnificent old lady, to show Tychkov the door. But I havecome to you on important business," he said, looking serious.

  "You have business! That is interesting."

  "Yes, more serious than yours. To-day I was at the police-station, notexactly paying a call. The police inspector had invited me, and I waspolitely fetched with a pair of grey horses."

  "What has happened?""A trifling thing. I had lent books to one or two people...."

  "Perhaps mine, that you had taken from Leonti?"

  "Those and others--here is the list," he said, handing him a slip ofpaper.

  "To whom did you give the books?"

  "To many people, mostly young people. One fool, the son of an advocate,did not understand some French phrases, and showed the book to hismother, who handed it on to the father, and he in his turn to themagistrate. The magistrate, having heard of the name of the author, madea great commotion and informed the Governor. At first the lad would notgive me away, but when they applied the rod to him he gave my name, andto-day they summoned me to court."

  "And what line did you adopt?"

  "What line?" said Mark laughing, as he looked at Raisky. "They asked mewhose books they were, and where I had got them, and I said from you;some you had brought with you; others, Voltaire, for instance, I hadfound in your library."

  "I'm much obliged. Why did you put this honour on me?"

  "Nobody will meddle with you, since you are in his Excellency's favour.Then you are not living here under official compulsion. But I shall besent off to a third place of exile; this is already the second. At anyother time this would be a matter of indifference to me, but just now,for the time being, at least, I should like to stay here."

  "And what else?"

  "Nothing. I only wanted to tell you what I have done, and to ask whetheryou will take it on yourself or not."

  "But what if I won't, and I don't intend to."

  "Then instead of your name I will give Koslov's. He is growing mouldyhere. Let him go to prison. He can take up his Greeks again later."

  "No, he will never take them up again if he is robbed of his position,and of his bread and butter."

  "There you are right, my conclusions were illogical. It would be betterfor you to take it on yourself."

  "What are you to me that I should do so?"

  "On the former occasion I needed money, and you had what I lacked. Thisis the same case. No one will touch you, while I should be sent off. Iam now logical enough."

  "You ask a remarkable service. I am just going to the Governor, who hassent for me. Good-bye."

  "He has sent for you, then?"

  "What am I to do? What should I say?"

  "Say that you are the hero of the piece, and the Governor will quash thewhole matter, for he does not like sending special reports to St.Petersburg. With me it is quite different. I am under police supervision,and it is his duty to return a report every month as to my circumstancesand my mode of life. However," he added with apparent indifference, "doas you like. And now come, for I have no more time either. Let us go asfar as the wood together, and I will climb down the precipice. I willwait at the fisherman's on the island to see how the matter ends."

  At the edge of the precipice Mark vanished into the bushes. Raisky droveto the Governor's, and returned home about two o'clock in the morning.

  Although he had gone so late to bed, he rose early. The windows ofVera's room were still darkened. She is still sleeping, he thought, andhe went into the garden, where he walked up and down for an hour,waiting for the drawing back of the lilac curtain. He hoped Marina wouldcross the yard, but she did not come. Then Tatiana Markovna's window wasopened, the pigeons and the sparrows began to gather on the spot werethey were wont to receive crumbs from Marfinka, doors opened and shut,the grooms and the servants crossed the yard, but the lilac curtainremained untouched. The gloomy Savili came out of his room and lookedsilently round the yard. When Raisky called him he came towards him withslow steps.

  "Tell Marina to let me know when Vera Vassilievna is dressed."

  "Marina is not here."

  "Where is she?"

  "She started at dawn to accompany the young lady over the Volga."

  "What young lady, Vera Vassilievna?"

  "Yes."

  "How did they go, and with whom?"

  "In the _brichka_, with the dun horse. They will return in theevening," he added.

  "Do you think they will return to-day?" asked Raisky with interest.

  "Assuredly. Prokor with the horse, and Marina too. They will see theyoung lady safely there, and return immediately."

  Raisky looked at Savili without seeing him, and they stood opposite oneanother for some time speechless.

  "Have you any further orders?" Savili asked at length.

  Raisky recovered himself, and inquired whether Savili was awaitingMarina. Savili replied by a curse on his wife.

  "Why do you beat her?" asked Raisky. "I have been intending for a longtime to advise you to leave her alone."

  "I don't beat her any more."

  "Since when?"

  "For the last week, since she has stayed quietly at home."

  "Go, I have no orders. But do not beat Marina. It will be better bothfor you and her if you give her complete liberty."

  Raisky passed on his way with bent head, glancing sadly at Vera's window.Savili's eyes too were on the ground, and he had forgotten to put hiscap on again in his amazement at Raisky's last words.

  "Passion once more!" thought Raisky. "Alas, for Savili, and for me!"