Obryv. English

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Raisky lay on the grass at the top of the cliff for a long time ingloomy meditation, groaning over the penalty he must pay for hisgenerosity, suffering alike for himself and Vera. "Perhaps she islaughing at my folly, down there with him. Who is there?" he cried aloud,stung with rage. "I will have his name." He saw himself merely as ashield to cover her passion. He sprang up wildly, and hurried down theprecipice, tearing his clothes in the bushes and listening in vain for asuspicious rustling. He told himself that it was an evil thing to pryinto another's secret; it was robbery. He stood still a moment to wipethe sweat from his brow, but his sufferings overcame his scruples. Hefelt his way stealthily forward, cursing every broken branch thatcracked under his feet, and unconscious of the blows he received on hisface from the rebounding branches as he forced his way through. He threwhimself on the ground to regain his breath, then in order not to betrayhis presence crept along, digging his nails into the ground as he went.When he reached the suicide's grave he halted, uncertain which way tofollow, and at length made for the arbour, listening and searching theground as he went.

  Meanwhile everything was going on as usual in Tatiana Markovna'shousehold. After supper the company sat yawning in the hall, TietNikonich alone being indefatigable in his attentions, shuffling his footwhen he made a polite remark, and looking at each lady as if he wereready to sacrifice everything for her sake.

  "Where is Monsieur Boris?" inquired Paulina Karpovna, addressing TatianaMarkovna.

  "Probably he is paying a visit in the town. He never says where hespends his time, so that I never know where to send the carriage forhim."

  Inquiries made of Yakob revealed the fact that he had been in the gardenup to a late hour. Vera was not in the house when she was summoned totea. She had left word that they were not to keep supper for her, andthat she would send across for some if she were hungry. No one butRaisky had seen her go.

  Tatiana Markovna sighed over their perversity, to be wandering about atsuch hours, in such cold weather.

  "I will go into the garden," said Paulina Karpovna. "Perhaps MonsieurBoris is not far away. He will be delighted to see me. I noticed," shecontinued confidentially, "that he had something to say to me. He couldnot have known I was here."

  Marfinka whispered to Vikentev that he did know, and had gone out onthat account.

  "I will go, Marfa Vassilievna, and hide behind a bush, imitate BorisPavlovich's voice and make her a declaration," suggested Vikentev.

  "Stay here, Nikolai Andreevich. Paulina Karpovna might be frightened andfaint. Then you would have to reckon with Grandmother."

  "I am going into the garden for a moment to fetch the fugitive," saidPaulina Karpovna.

  "God be with you, Paulina Karpovna," said Tatiana Markovna. "Don't putyour nose outside in the darkness, or at any rate take Egorka with youto carry a lantern."

  "No, I will go alone. It is not necessary for anyone to disturb us."

  "You ought not," intervened Tiet Nikonich politely, "to go out aftereight o'clock on these damp nights. I would not have ventured to detainyou, but a physician from Duesseldorf on the Rhine, whose book I am nowreading and can lend you if you like, and who gives excellent advice,says...."

  Paulina Karpovna interrupted him by asking him if he would see her home,and then went into the garden before he could resume his remarks. Heagreed to her request and shut the door after her.

  Soon after Paulina Karpovna's exit there was a rustling and crackling onthe precipice, and Raisky wearing the aspect of a restless, woundedanimal, appeared out of the darkness. He sat for several minutesmotionless on Vera's favourite bench, covering his eyes with his hands.Was it dream or reality, he asked himself. He must have been mistaken.Such a thing could not be. He stood up, then sat down again to listen.With his hands lying listlessly on his knees, he broke into laughterover his doubts, his questionings, his secret. Again he had an access ofterrible laughter. Vera--and _he_. The cloak which he himself hadsent to the "exile" lay near the arbour. The rogue had been cleverenough to get two hundred and twenty roubles for the settlement of hiswager, and the earlier eighty in addition. Sekleteia Burdalakov!

  Again he laughed with a laugh very near a groan. Suddenly he stopped,and put his hand to his side, seized with a sudden consciousness of pain.Vera was free, but he told himself she had dared to mock another fellowhuman being who had been rash enough to love her; she had mocked herfriend. His soul cried for revenge.

  He sprang up intent on revenge, but was checked by the question of howto avenge himself. To bring Tatiana Markovna, with lanterns, and a crowdof servants and to expose the scandal in a glare of light; to say to her,"Here is the serpent you have carried for two and twenty years in yourbosom"--that would be a vulgar revenge of which he knew himself to beincapable. Such a revenge would hit, not Vera, but his aunt, who was tohim like his mother. His head drooped for a moment; then he rose andhurried like a madman down the precipice once more.

  There in the depths passion was holding her festival, night drew hercurtain over the song of love, love ... with Mark. If she hadsurrendered to another lover, to the tall, handsome Tushin, the owner ofland, lake, and forest, and the Olympian tamer of horses....

  He could hardly breathe. Against his will there rose before him, fromthe depths of the precipice, the vision of Vera's figure, glorified witha seductive beauty that he had never yet seen in her, and though he wasdevoured by agony he could not take his eyes from the vision. At herfeet, like a lion at rest, lay Mark, with triumph on his face. Her footrested on his head. Horror seized him, and drove him onward, to destroyand mar the vision. He seemed to hear in the air the flattering words,the songs and the sighs of passion; the vision became fainter,mist-enshrouded, and finally vanished into air, but the rage forrevenge remained.

  Everywhere was stillness and darkness, as he climbed the hill once more,but when he reached Vera's bench he saw a human shadow.

  "Who is there?" he cried.

  "Monsieur Boris, it is I, Paulina."

  "You, what are you doing here?"

  "I came, because I knew, I knew that you have long had something to sayto me, but have hesitated. Du courage. There is no one to see or hear us._Esperez tout...._"

  "What do you want? Speak out."

  _"Que vous m'aimez._ I have known it for a long time. _Vousm'avez fui, mais la passion vous a ramene ici...._"

  He seized her roughly by the hand, and pushed her to the edge of theprecipice.

  "Ah, _de grace. Mais pas si brusquement ... qu'est-ce que vousfaites ... mais laissez donc,_" she groaned.

  Her anxiety was not altogether groundless, for she stood on the edge ofan abrupt fall of the ground, and he grasped her hand more determinedly.

  "You want love," he cried to the terrified woman. "Listen, to-night islove's night. Do you hear the sighs, the kisses, the breath of passion?"

  "Let me go! Let me go! I shall fall."

  "Away from here," he cried, loosening his grasp and drawing a deepbreath.

  Like a madman he ran across the garden and the flower garden into theyard, where Egorka was washing his hands and face at the spring.

  "Bring my trunk," he cried. "I am going to St. Petersburg in themorning." He ran water over his hands and washed his face and eyesbefore he turned to go to his room.

  He could not stay within the four walls of his chamber. He went outagain and again, unprotected against the cold, to look at Vera's window.It was hardly possible to see ten paces ahead in the darkness. He wentto the acacia arbour to watch for Vera's return, and was furious becausehe could not conceal himself there, now that the leaves had fallen. Hesat there in torture until morning dawned, not from passion, which hadbeen drowned in that night's experiences. What passion would stand sucha shock as this? But he had an unconquerable desire to look Vera in theface, this new Vera, and with one glance of scorn to show her the shame,the affront she had put on him, on their aunt, on the whole household,on their society, on womanhood itself. He awaited her return in a fevero
f impatience. Suddenly he sprang up with an evil look of triumph on hisface.

  "Fate has given me the idea," he thought. He found the gates stilllocked, but there was a lamp before the ikon in Savili's room, and heordered him to let him out and to leave the gates unlocked. He took fromhis room the bouquet holder and hastened to the orangery to the gardener.He had to wait a long time before it opened. The light grew stronger.When he looked over at the trees in the orangery, an evil smile againcrossed his face. The gardener was arranging Marfinka's bouquet.

  "I want another bouquet," said Raisky unsteadily.

  "One like this?"

  "No, only orange blossoms," he whispered, turning paler as he spoke.

  "Right, Sir," said the gardener, recalling that one of TatianaMarkovna's young ladies was betrothed.

  "I am thirsty," said Raisky. "Give me a glass of water."

  He drank the water greedily, and hurried the gardener on. When thesecond bouquet was ready he paid lavishly.

  He returned to the house cautiously, carrying the two bouquets. As hedid not know whether Vera had returned in his absence, he had Marinacalled, and sent her to see if her mistress was at home or had alreadygone out walking. On hearing she was out he ordered Marfinka's bouquetto be put on Vera's table and the window to be opened. Then he dismissedMarina, and returned to the acacia arbour. Passion and jealousy setloose raged unchecked, and when pity raised her head she was quenched bythe torturing, overmastering feeling of outrage. He suppressed the lowvoice of sympathy, and his better self was silent. He was shuddering,conscious that poison flowed in his veins, the poison of lies anddeception.

  "I must either shoot this dog Mark, or myself," he thought.

  He held the bouquet of orange-blossoms in his two hands, like a sacredthing, and drank in its beauty with a wild delight. Then he fixed hiseyes on the dark avenue, but she did not come.

  Broad daylight came, a fine rain began to fall and made the paths sodden.At last Vera appeared in the distance. His heart beat faster, and hisknees trembled so that he had to steady himself by the bench to keepfrom falling.

  She came slowly nearer, with her bowed head wrapped in a dark mantilla,held in place over her breast by her pale hands, and walked into theporch without seeing him. Raisky sprang from his place of observation,and hid himself under her window.

  She entered her room in a dream, without noticing that her clothes whichshe had flung on the floor when she went out had been put back again,and without observing the bouquet on the table or the opened window.Mechanically she threw aside her mantilla, and changed her muddy shoesfor satin slippers; then she sank down on the divan, and closed her eyes.After a brief minute she was awakened from her dream by the thud ofsomething falling on the floor. She opened her eyes and saw on the floora great sheaf of orange blossoms, which had plainly been thrown throughthe window.

  Pale as death, and without picking up the flowers, she hurried to thewindow. She saw Raisky, as he went away, and stood transfixed. He lookedround, and their eyes met.

  She was seized by pain so sharp that she could hardly breathe, andstepped back. Then she saw the bouquet intended for Marfinka on thetable. She picked it up, half unconsciously, to press it to her face,but it slipped from her hands, and she herself fell unconscious on thefloor.