A Nobleman's Nest Part 21

The guests understood the hint, and began to take their leave. Varvara Pavlovna was made to promise that she would come to dinner on the morrow, and bring Ada; Gedeonovsky, who had almost fallen asleep as he sat in one corner, offered to escort her home. Pans.h.i.+n solemnly saluted every one, and at the steps, as he put Varvara Pavlovna into her carriage, he pressed her hand and shouted after her: "_Au revoir!_"

Gedeonovsky seated himself by her side; all the way home, she amused herself by placing the tip of her foot on his foot, as though by accident; he became confused, and paid her compliments; she giggled and made eyes at him when the light from a street-lantern fell on the carriage. The waltz which she had herself played, rang in her head, and excited her; wherever she happened to find herself, all she had to do was to imagine to herself lights, a ball-room, the swift whirling to the sounds of music--and her soul went fairly aflame, her eyes darkened strangely, a smile hovered over her lips, something gracefully-bacchic was disseminated all over her body. On arriving at home, Varvara Pavlovna sprang lightly from the carriage,--only fas.h.i.+onable lionesses know how to spring out in that way,--turned to Gedeonovsky, and suddenly burst into a ringing laugh, straight in his face.

"A charming person,"--thought the State Councillor, as he wended his way homeward to his lodgings, where his servant was awaiting him with a bottle of eau de Cologne:--"it is well that I am a staid man ... only, what was she laughing at?"

Marfa Timofeevna sat all night long by Liza's pillow.

XLI

Lavretzky spent a day and a half at Vasilievskoe, and during nearly the whole of that time he wandered about the neighbourhood. He could not remain long in one place: anguish gnawed him; he experienced all the torture of incessant, impetuous, and impotent impulses. He recalled the feeling which had taken possession of his soul on the day following his arrival in the country; he recalled his intentions at that time, and waxed very angry with himself. What could have torn him away from that which he recognised as his duty, the sole task of his future? The thirst for happiness--once more, the thirst for happiness!--"Obviously, Mikhalevitch is right," he thought. "Thou hast wished once more to taste of happiness in life,"--he said to himself,--"thou hast forgotten what a luxury, what an unmerited mercy it is when it has visited a man even once. It was not complete, thou wilt say? But put forth thy claims to complete, genuine happiness! Look about thee: who of those around thee is blissful, who enjoys himself? Yonder, a peasant is driving to the reaping; perchance, he is satisfied with his lot.... What of that?

Wouldst thou change with him? Remember thy mother: how insignificantly small were her demands, and what lot fell to her share? Thou hast, evidently, only been bragging before Pans.h.i.+n, when thou saidst to him, that thou hadst come to Russia in order to till the earth; thou hast come in order to run after the girls in thine old age. The news of thy freedom came, and thou didst discard everything, thou didst forget everything, thou didst run like a little boy after a b.u.t.terfly."... Liza's image uninterruptedly presented itself before his thoughts; with an effort he drove it away, as he did also another importunate image, other imperturbably-crafty, beautiful, and detested features. Old Anton noticed that his master was not himself; after heaving several sighs outside the door, and several more on the threshold, he made up his mind to approach him, and advised him to drink something warm. Lavretzky shouted at him, ordered him to leave the room, but afterward begged his pardon; but this caused Anton to grow still more disconsolate.

Lavretzky could not sit in the drawing-room; he felt as though his great-grandfather Andrei were gazing scornfully from the canvas at his puny descendant.--"Ekh, look out for thyself! thou art sailing in shoal water!" his lips, pursed up on one side, seemed to be saying. "Can it be,"--he thought,--"that I shall not be able to conquer myself,--that I shall give in to this--nonsense?" (The severely-wounded in war always call their wounds "nonsense." If a man could not deceive himself,--he could not live on the earth.) "Am I really a miserable little boy? Well, yes: I have beheld close by, I have almost held in my hand, the possibility of happiness for my whole life--it has suddenly vanished; and in a lottery, if you turn the wheel just a little further, a poor man might become a rich one. If it was not to be, it was not to be,--and that's the end of the matter. I'll set to work, with clenched teeth, and I will command myself to hold my tongue; luckily, it is not the first time I have had to take myself in hand. And why did I run away, why am I sitting here, with my head thrust into a bush, like an ostrich? To be afraid to look catastrophe in the face--is nonsense!--Anton!"--he called loudly,--"order the tarantas to be harnessed up immediately. Yes,"--he meditated once more,--"I must command myself to hold my tongue, I must keep a tight rein on myself."...

With such arguments did Lavretzky strive to alleviate his grief; but it was great and powerful; and even Apraxyeya, who had outlived not so much her mind as every feeling, even Apraxyeya shook her head, and sorrowfully followed him with her eyes, when he seated himself in the tarantas, in order to drive to the town. The horses galloped off; he sat motionless and upright, and stared impa.s.sively ahead along the road.

XLII

Liza had written to Lavretzky on the day before, that he was to come to their house in the evening; but he first went up to his own quarters. He did not find either his wife or his daughter at home; from the servants he learned that she had gone with her to the Kalitins'. This news both startled and enraged him. "Evidently, Varvara Pavlovna is determined not to give me a chance to live,"--he thought, with the excitement of wrath in his heart. He began to stride to and fro, incessantly thrusting aside with his feet and hands the child's toys, the books, and the feminine appurtenances which came in his way; he summoned Justine, and ordered her to remove all that "rubbish."--"_Oui, monsieur_,"--said she, with a grimace, and began to put the room in order, gracefully bending, and giving Lavretzky to understand, by every movement, that she regarded him as an unlicked bear. With hatred he watched her worn but still "piquant,"

sneering, Parisian face, her white cuffs, her silken ap.r.o.n, and light cap.

He sent her away, at last, and after long wavering (Varvara Pavlovna still did not return) he made up his mind to betake himself to the Kalitins',--not to Marya Dmitrievna--(not, on any account, would he have entered her drawing-room, that drawing-room where his wife was), but to Marfa Timofeevna; he remembered that a rear staircase from the maids'

entrance led straight to her rooms. This is what Lavretzky did. Chance favoured him: in the yard he met Schurotchka; she conducted him to Marfa Timofeevna. He found her, contrary to her wont, alone; she was sitting in a corner, with hair uncovered, bowed over, with her hands clasped in her lap. On perceiving Lavretzky, the old woman was greatly alarmed, rose briskly to her feet, and began to walk hither and yon in the room, as though in search of her cap.

"Ah, here thou art, here thou art,"--she began, avoiding his gaze, and bustling about--"well, how do you do? Come, what now? What is to be done?

Where wert thou yesterday? Well, she has come,--well, yes. Well, we must just ... somehow or other."

Lavretzky dropped into a chair.

"Come, sit down, sit down,"--went on the old woman.--"Thou hast come straight up-stairs. Well, yes, of course. What? thou art come to look at me? Thanks."

The old woman was silent for a while; Lavretzky did not know what to say to her; but she understood him.

"Liza ... yes, Liza was here just now,"--went on Marfa Timofeevna, tying and untying the cords of her reticule. "She is not quite well.

Schurotchka, where art thou? Come hither, my mother, why canst thou not sit still? And I have a headache. It must be from _that_--from the singing and from the music."

"From what singing, aunty?"

"Why, of course, they keep singing--what do you call it?--duets. And always in Italian: _tchi-tchi_, and _tcha-tcha_, regular magpies. They begin to drag the notes out, and it's just like tugging at your soul.

Pans.h.i.+n and that wife of yours. And all that has come about so quickly; already they are on the footing of relatives, they do not stand on ceremony. However, I will say this much: even a dog seeks a refuge; no harm will come to her, so long as people don't turn her out."

"Nevertheless, I must confess that I did not expect this,"--replied Lavretzky:--"it must have required great boldness."

"No, my dear soul, that is not boldness; it is calculation. The Lord be with her--I want nothing to do with her! They tell me that thou art sending her to Lavriki,--is it true?"

"Yes, I am placing that estate at the disposal of Varvara Pavlovna."

"Has she asked for money?"

"Not yet."

"Well, it will not be long before she does. But I have only just taken a good look at thee. Art thou well?"

"Yes."

"Schurotchka,"--suddenly cried Marfa Timofeevna:--"go, and tell Lizaveta Mikhailovna--that is to say, no, ask her ... she's down-stairs, isn't she?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, yes; then ask her: 'Where did she put my book?' She knows."

"I obey, ma'am."

Again the old woman began to bustle about, and to open the drawers of her commode. Lavretzky sat motionless on his chair.

Suddenly light footsteps became audible on the stairs--and Liza entered.

Lavretzky rose to his feet, and bowed; Liza halted by the door.

"Liza, Lizotchka,"--said Marfa Timofeevna hastily;--"where is my book, where didst thou put my book?"

"What book, aunty?"

"Why, my book; good heavens! However, I did not call thee.... Well, it makes no difference. What are you doing there--down-stairs? See here, Feodor Ivanitch has come.--How is thy head?"

"It is all right."

"Thou art always saying: 'It is all right.' What's going on with you down-stairs,--music again?"

"No--they are playing cards."

"Yes, of course, she is up to everything. Schurotchka, I perceive that thou wishest to have a run in the garden. Go along."

"Why, no, Marfa Timofeevna...."

"Don't argue, if you please. Go! Nastasya Karpovna has gone into the garden alone: stay with her. Respect the old woman."--Schurotchka left the room.--"Why, where is my cap? Really, now, where has it got to?"

"Pray let me look for it,"--said Liza.

"Sit down, sit down; my own legs haven't given out yet. I must have left it yonder, in my bedroom."

And, casting a sidelong glance at Lavretzky, Marfa Timofeevna left the room. She was on the point of leaving the door open, but suddenly turned round toward it, and shut it.

Liza leaned against the back of her chair, and gently lifted her hands to her face; Lavretzky remained standing, as he was.