Obryv. English

  CHAPTER XXX

  Vera rose the next morning pale and exhausted, but without any fever.She had wept out her malady on her grandmother's breast. The doctorprofessed himself satisfied, and said she should stay in her room for afew days. Everything in the house went on as before. There were nofestivities in honour of Vera's name day, as she had expressed a wishthat there should be none. Neither Marfinka nor the Vikentevs came; amessenger was sent to Kolchino with the announcement that VeraVassilievna was unwell and was keeping her room. Tushin sent hiscongratulations in a respectful note, asking for permission to come andsee her. Her reply was that he should wait a little until she was better.Under the pretext of Vera's illness, callers who came from the town topresent their congratulations were not admitted. Only the servantscelebrated the occasion in their own way; the maids appeared in theirgay dresses, and the coachmen and the lackeys got drunk.

  Vera and her aunt developed a new relationship. Tatiana Markovna'sconsideration for Vera was by no means assumed, but her kindness did notmake Vera's heart lighter. What she had expected and wished was severejudgment, a penance, perhaps exile for half a year or a year to TatianaMarkovna's distant estate, where she would gradually win back her peaceof mind or at any rate forget, if it was true, as Raisky said, that timeextinguishes all impressions. "I see," thought Vera, "that Grandmothersuffers inexpressibly. Grief has changed her altogether; her figure isbowed and her face more deeply furrowed. Perhaps she is only sparing menow because her heart has opened itself to pity. She cannot bear topunish me, now that I am ill and repentant." Vera had lost her pride,her self-respect and her dignity, and if once these flowers are takenout of the crown which adorns the head of man, his doom is at hand. Shetried to pray and could not, for she had nothing to pray for, and couldonly bow her head in humility.

  Raisky came into much closer relation with his aunt and Vera. Hisnaturalness and genuine affection, the friendly intimacy of hisconversation, his straightforwardness, his talkative humour, and thegleaming play of his fancy were a distraction and a consolation to bothof them. He often drew a laugh from them, but he tried in vain todistract them from the grief which hung like a cloud over them both andover the whole house. He himself was sad when he saw that neither hisesteem nor Tatiana Markovna's kindness could give back to poor Vera hercourage, her pride, her confidence and her strength of will.

  Tatiana Markovna spent the nights in the old house on the divan oppositeVera's bed and watched her sleep. But it nearly always happened thatthey were both observing one another, so that neither of them foundrefreshing sleep. On the morning after a sleepless night of this kind,Tatiana Markovna sent for Tiet Nikonich. He came gladly, plainlydelighted that the illness which threatened Vera Vassilievna had blownover, and bringing with him a water melon of extraordinary size and apineapple for a present. But a glance at his old friend was enough tomake him change colour. Tatiana Markovna hastily put on her fur-trimmedcloak, threw a scarf over her head, and signed to him to follow her asshe led the way into the garden. They sat for two hours on Vera's bench.Then she went back to the house with bowed head, while he drove home,overcome with grief, ordered his servants to pack, sent for post horses,and drove to his estate, to which he had not been for many years.

  Raisky, who had gone to see him, heard the news with astonishment. Hequestioned his aunt, who told him that some disturbance had broken outon Tiet Nikonich's estate. Vera was sadder than ever. Lines began toappear on her forehead, which would one day become furrows. Sometimesshe would approach the table on which the unopened blue letter lay andthen turn away. Where should she flee, where conceal herself from theworld? When night fell, she lay down, put out the light, and staredwide-eyed in front of her. She wanted to forget, to sleep, but sleepwould not come. Dark spots, blacker than night, danced before her eyes,shadows moved up and down with a wave-like motion in the glimmer oflight that lay around the window. But she felt no fear, she would nothave died of terror if there had risen suddenly out of the corner aghost, a thief or a murderer; she would not have felt any fear if shehad been told that her last hour was come. She looked out unceasinglyinto the darkness, at the waving shadows, at the flitting specks whichstood out the more clearly in the blackness of the night, at the ringsof changing colour which whirled shimmering round her.

  Slowly and quietly the door opened. Vera propped herself on her elbowand saw a hand carrying a lamp carefully shaded. Tatiana Markovnadropped her cloak from her shoulder on to a chair and approached the bed,looking not unlike a ghost in her white dressing-gown. Vera had laid herhead back on the pillow and pretended to sleep. Tatiana Markovna put thelamp on the table behind the bed-head, and sat down carefully andquietly on the divan with her head leaning on her hand. She did not takeher eyes from Vera, and when Vera opened her own an hour later TatianaMarkovna was still looking fixedly at her. "Can't you sleep, Vera?"

  "No."

  "Why?"

  "Why do you punish me in the night too, Grandmother?" asked Vera in alow tone. The two women looked at one another and both seemed tounderstand the speech in their eyes. "You are killing me with sympathy,Grandmother," Vera went on. "It would be better to drive me from yoursight. But it is very hard for me to bear when you measure out yourscorn drop by drop. Either forgive me or, if that is impossible, bury mealive. Why are you silent? What is in your mind? Your silence torturesme; it seems to say something, and yet never says it."

  "It is so hard, Vera, to speak. Pray, and understand your Grandmothereven when she is silent."

  "I have tried to pray, and cannot. What have I to pray for, except thatI should die the sooner. I shall die I know; only let it come quickly,for like this it is impossible to live."

  "It is possible," said Tatiana Markovna, drawing a deep sigh.

  "After ... that?"

  "After _that_," replied her grandmother.

  "You don't know, Grandmother," said Vera with a hopeless sigh. "You havenot been a woman like me."

  Tatiana Markovna stooped down to Vera, and whispered in a hardy audiblevoice, "A woman like you."

  Vera looked at her in amazement, then let her head fall back on thepillow and said wearily, "You were never in my position. You are asaint."

  "A sinner," rejoined Tatiana Markovna.

  "We are all sinners, but not a sinner of that kind."

  "Of that kind."

  Vera seized Tatiana Markovna's dress with both hands, and pressed herface to hers. The words that came from her troubled breast sounded likehisses. "Why do you slander yourself? Is it in order to calm and help me?Grandmother, do not lie!"

  "I never lie and you know it, and how should I begin to do so now. I ama sinner, and myself need forgiveness," she said, throwing herself onher knees and bowing her grey head.

  "Why do you say these things to me?" said Vera, staring at the kneelingwoman, and pressing her head to her breast. "Take your words back again.I have not heard them or will forget them; will regard them as theproduct of a dream. Do not torture yourself for my sake. Rise,Grandmother." Tatiana Markovna lay on her breast, sobbing like a child."Why did you tell me this?" said Vera.

  "It was God's wish that I should humble myself to ask you, my child, forforgiveness. If you grant me your forgiveness, Vera, I, too, can forgiveyou. I had hoped to keep my secret until I died, and now my sin hasplunged you into ruin."

  "You rescue me, Grandmother, from despair."

  "And myself, Vera. God forgives, but he demands cleansing. I thought mysin was forgotten and forgiven. Because of my silence I seemed to men tobe virtuous, but my virtue was a lie. God has punished my sin. Forgiveme from your heart."

  "Does one forgive one's Mother? You are a saint, a Mother without a peerin the whole wide world. If I had known you, as you really are, howcould I have acted contrary to your will?"

  "That is my second terrible sin. I was silent, and did not tell you tobeware of the precipice. Your dead Mother will call me to account for myfailure, I know. She comes to me in my dreams, and is now here betweenus. Do you also forgive me, D
eparted One," she cried wildly, stretchingout her arms in supplication.

  Vera shuddered.

  "Forgive me, Vera. I ask forgiveness of you both. We will pray."

  Vera tried to raise her to her feet, and Tatiana Markovna raised herselfwith difficulty, and sat down on the divan.

  Vera bathed her temples with eau de Cologne, and gave her a sedative;then she kneeled down before her and covered her hand with kisses.

  "What is hidden must be revealed," began Tatiana Markovna, when she hadrecovered a little. "For forty-five years only two human beings besidemyself have known it, _he_ and Vassilissa, and I thought the secretwould die with me. And now it is made public. My God!" she cried, wildly,stretching her folded arms to the picture of the Christ. "Had I knownthat this stroke would ever fall on another, on _my_ child, I wouldhave confessed my sin there and then to the all world in the Cathedralsquare."

  Vera still hesitated to believe what she heard. Was it a heroic measure,a generous invention to rescue and restore her own self-respect? But heraunt's prayers, her tears, her appeal to Vera's dead mother, no actresswould have dared to use such devices, and her aunt was the soul of truthand honour.

  Warm life pulsed in Vera's heart, and her heart was lightened. She feltas if life was streaming through her veins after an evil dream. Peacetapped at the door of her soul, the dark forsaken temple, which was nowgaily lighted once more and a home of prayer. She felt that TatianaMarkovna and she were inseparable sisters, and she even beganinvoluntarily to address her as "thou," as she had done Raisky when herheart responded to his kindness. As these thoughts whirled in her head,she had a sensation of lightness and freedom, like a prisoner whosefetters have been removed.

  "Grandmother," she said, rising, "you have forgiven me, and you love memore than you do any of the others, more than Marfinka, that I realise.But do you know and understand my love for you? I should not havesuffered as I did, but for my love for you. How long we have beenstrangers!"

  "I will tell you all, Vera, and you must hear my confession. Judge meseverely, but pardon me, and God will pardon us both."

  "I will not, I ought not, I may not," cried Vera. "To what end should Ihear it?"

  "So that I may suffer once more, as I suffered five-and-forty years ago.You know my sin, and Boris shall know it. He may laugh at the grey hairsof old Kunigunde."

  As she strode up and down, shaking her head in her fanatical seriousness,with sorrow and triumphant dignity in her face, her resemblance to theold family portrait in the gallery was very marked.

  Beside her Vera felt like a small and pitiful child as she gazed timidlyinto her aunt's eyes; she measured her own young strength by thestrength of this old woman who had ripened and remained unbroken in thelong struggle of life.

  "My whole life can never repay what you have done for me, Grandmother.Let this be the end of your penance, and tell me no more. If you aredetermined that Boris shall know, I will whisper a word about your pastto him. Since I have seen your anguish, why should you suffer a longermartyrdom? I will not listen. It is not my place to sit in judgment onyou. Let me hold your grey hairs sacred."

  Tatiana Markovna sighed, and embraced Vera.

  "As you will. Your will is like God's forgiveness to me, and I amgrateful to you for sparing my grey hairs."

  "Now," said Vera, "let us go across to your house, where we can bothrest."

  Tatiana Markovna almost carried her across to the new house, laid her onher own bed, and lay down beside her.

  When Vera had fallen peacefully asleep, her aunt rose cautiously, and,in the light of the lamp, watched the marble beauty of her forehead, herclosed eyes, all sculptured pure and delicate as if by a master hand,and at the expression of deep peace that lay on her face. She made thesign of the cross over Vera as she slept, touched her forehead with herlips, and sank on her knees in prayer.

  "Have mercy on her!" she breathed. "If Thy anger is not yet appeased,turn it from her and strike my grey head."

  Presently she lay down beside Vera, with her arm around her neck. Verawoke occasionally, opened her eyes, and closed them again. She pressedcloser and closer to Tatiana Markovna as if no harm could befall herwithin the circle of those faithful arms.