that she was going to the Caucasus. And he? Where is he going? Perhaps
also to the springs?... He is pale, and something in his look at the
corners of his mouth tells of weariness, if not of suffering.... And
he is thin, his cheeks are even rather sunken.... Poor fellow, he is
ill too, he also suffers.... And he is so handsome, so handsome....
And what eyes! His breakfast was now also brought to him and he
began eating, while Mimotchka, secretly continued her observations.
Everything about him--his way of eating and sitting, and the way his
hair was done, and his dress--showed a man belonging to good society.
Meanwhile Vava had already stroked the dog and was about to give him
half her chicken, but mamma looked at her so imploringly, that she
sent away the dog and assumed her most decorous and sedate expression.
The Newfoundland, turning about round her, and offended at her sudden
indifference, went up to the pug and tried to make acquaintance. But
when Monitchka awoke and saw such a monster near her, she was horribly
frightened, trembled all over her little body, and began to growl and
bark furiously. The young man called off the Newfoundland, and the
ladies found out that the dog's name was Rex. Then they all went on
with their breakfast; but Mimotchka felt as if something had brought
her nearer to the young man--very likely the fact of their sharing
the same table, the same outspread tablecloth, on which stood a plate
of bread and a decanter of water also for them both in common, or
else because they were both so young, so handsome and elegant, and
so different from all the countrified landowners and dishevelled,
tumbled--looking provincials, with their cigarettes in their mouths,
who surrounded them. They breakfasted, and their eyes often met and
said something to each other. He had large, dark eyes; she had eyes
like a Madonna.
Mimotchka got brighter and brighter. The fatigue and slight headache,
the clinking of glasses, the scraping of feet, and the talk of
the motley crowd, all this was something new, the beginning of
something.... And the time till the departure of the train flew by
imperceptibly.
The ladies took their places in the ladies' compartment, and he got
into the next carriage, so that Mimotchka had only to look out at the
window to see him also looking out of his window.
And now again the train flies on, flies through the green steppes with
their many-coloured spring flowers. In the ladies' compartment, besides
our ladies, there was a lady from Moscow, with whom mamma at once
made acquaintance. The lady, although she came from Moscow, knew half
Petersburg, and mamma and she soon found that they had many friends and
even relations in common. The lady had been in the Caucasus and was
able to give mamma a great deal of valuable information about hotels,
lodgings, laundresses, &c. And mamma, in her turn, told her all about
Mimotchka's illness, about her fainting fits and sleeplessness, while
the Moscow lady, glancing at Mimotchka, who was now looking quite rosy
and bright, and laughing and chattering like a child with Vava, did not
know whether mamma was making fun of her or not.
At every station _he_ got out and walked up and down in front of their
carriage, looking at Mimotchka, who either gazed at the sky or the
station. And how this shortened the journey! Now he had taken off his
hat and wore a travelling cap, which suited him even better. Vava soon
noticed his ways and said to Mimotchka--
"The Adonis seems to be airing himself for your benefit. What stupid
shoes he wears!"
Mimotchka took his part, saying that the shoes were all right, and that
she had seen some just like them worn by a French actor at his benefit;
very likely they were the fashion....
When the evening drew near Vava went off to her favourite post at the
open window to see the sunset.... And standing there, watching the rosy
and lilac clouds changing their shape with every moment, and the wide,
green steppe, Vava felt arise within her a feeling which often took
possession of her, a flood of love towards God and man. She would have
liked to enfold the whole world, the whole of mankind, in her embrace
as brothers and give them light and warmth; she longed to do great
deeds, to sacrifice herself, to accomplish some good work, not narrow,
like that beaten track with the rails laid down, but wide, unlimited,
boundless as the steppe, as the heavens, as the sea, as joy, even as
love itself!... The pale young moon already detached itself against
the darkening sky. The sun had disappeared. With its setting the
steppe had changed and was now covered with floating shadows. The
world of spirits, the world of dreams awoke. Vava watched the young
moon and called to mind the books about spiritualism she had lately
read. Is there any truth in it or not? How do souls live after they
are separated from their bodies? Where are they? Why and how do they
live? Do they see us? Do they pity us? Do our sufferings seem so small
to them? Life and death.... How many mysteries, how many enigmas there
are in nature! Is there anyone who knows everything, everything, or
even a great deal, like Goethe's Faust did? And is it well to know so
much, to understand everything, to see everything, to find the key to
all mysteries, or is it better to be as she is and not know anything,
but to feel a sense of happiness due only to her youth, to her heart
overflowing with love, to the beauty of the steppe and the young
moon?...
Mamma and the lady from Moscow went on talking incessantly. They
could not quite recollect who Mdme. Verevkine's daughter by her first
marriage, the one who had been previously engaged to Mestchersky, the
brother-in-law of a mutual lady friend of theirs, had married....
Mimotchka did not remember either.... And Vava did not know.... Then
mamma began enumerating to the lady all the things she was taking
with her. Mamma was of the opinion that if you went abroad you need
take very little with you, because abroad you could get everything
everywhere. But in Russia, and especially in the provinces, it was
impossible to get anything anywhere; so that you had to set out well
provided. Mimotchka sat at the open window, looked at the young
moon, and also indulged in dreams. Who could _he_ be? Who is he?
Whereto and wherefore is he travelling? She had noticed that he wore
a wedding-ring.[11] Why does he look at her so? Has she taken his
fancy?... How? By her beauty? But she has so gone off lately. Still she
looks interesting to-day. She saw her reflection in the glass opposite
and was astonished at herself. There is something in the expression of
her eyes and about her complexion that beautifies her. Well, so much
the better. Let him walk up and down if he likes, she will not prevent
him. She does not respond to his glances, only perhaps very slightly
and quite involuntarily. Anyhow there is no harm in it.... Where can he
be going? And who is he? And Mimotchka gazed at the new moon, and the
sparks flew past her like a golden rain, and the wind played with her
fair curls. Mamma wanted to put up the window, but Mimotchka said it
was too early yet and would be stuffy in the carriage.
[11] Russian married men wear wedding-rings as well as women.
It was quite dark, and Vava, mamma, and the lady from Moscow were
already asleep when Mimotchka put her head out of the window for the
last time. The station was like all the other stations. A little
two-storied wooden house, with a bell attached to it, and with lit-up
windows, from which, behind the pots of geraniums and balsams, the
station-master's untidy wife in a pink cotton dress looked out.
The flickering light of the lamp lit up the dark platform, on which
the motionless figures of the peasants stood staring stupidly at
the train; the gendarme also stood motionless; the guard went past
the carriage. Some one greeted the station-master. Ah, there he is!
He isn't asleep yet. He again passed close to the carriage in which
Mimotchka was seated, and this time he came so near and looked into
her eyes so expressively that Mimotchka got frightened and pulled up
the window. And the train sped along further. Mimotchka lay down to
sleep, but she was disturbed and felt dissatisfied with herself, with
him, and with everybody. Why did he look at her in that manner? It
was impertinent.... How could he dare to? what did he take her for?
She admitted /that she herself was perhaps rather to blame; but why
shouldn't she amuse herself a little on the journey? Of course in
Petersburg she would never have allowed herself to do anything of the
kind. How he looked at her, how he looked at her, to be sure! But
anyhow he had beautiful eyes! She thought she had never seen such eyes.
Well, now, enough of him--better forget all about him. Nobody will ever
be the wiser, and he does not know who she is. To-morrow they will go
off in different directions, and perhaps never see each other again....
It's time to go to sleep.
And Mimotchka turned the cushion and covered herself over with the
wrapper. But the sofa was uncomfortable, and the carriage felt stuffy
and smelt of smoke and coal. In vain she sniffed at her _sel de
vinaigre_ and counted out some drops of valerian--she only fell asleep
when the carriage blinds began to whiten with the coming dawn.
And now at last the long journey is over. Vava is already gazing at the
mountains, which the lady from Moscow names to her: Beshtau, Razvalka,
and Jeleznaia.
The guard collects the tickets. The hand-baggage is strapped up.
Mimotchka yawns; she has slept badly, and is not in good spirits. She
feels as if she would like to die. The train stops at the station of
the Mineral Waters, Which is buried in a garden full of white acacias.
Good heavens, what a lot of passengers are getting out here! Will
there be carriages enough? And how sweet the white acacia smells! What
a sky! What fresh, pure air! Mamma hastily bids good-bye to the lady
from Moscow, who is going on further, and loads three porters with the
hand-baggage. Vava tries to make herself useful, finds Katia, and looks
after the things; Mimotchka envelops herself in a thick veil and goes
into the ladies' room. She feels very out of sorts, and still thinks
she would like to die. She is aching all over, and tears of weakness
almost choke her. She is rather ashamed of yesterday's exchange of
glances. Only think, a son age, dans sa position!... And besides,
who knows who and what he is? She really had not seen him thoroughly
well. It was all the darkness and her imagination. Perhaps he had been
boasting in the carriage, although he has really nothing to boast
about. And after all she does not care! And Mimotchka, without turning
her head, crosses the room where the people are sitting and drinking
tea; but even without looking she sees that he is differently dressed.
And how pale he looks; he is really not nearly as handsome as she had
thought yesterday.... Of course it was all owing to the darkness and
her imagination.
A carriage is found and brought up, the things are put in it, and the
ladies and Katia take their places inside.
"All right, drive on!"
The carriage rolls on through the green steppe and over the soft
country road. In the heavens the larks are carolling. Other carriages
overtake our ladies. Here is the lady with the shaking head and there
is the boy with the St. Vitus's dance.... And here, passing all the
others, another carriage flies along, in which _he_ is seated, _he_
"l'homme au chien," as Mimotchka calls him. He is wearing another hat,
the third since yesterday, and at his feet, stretched out full length,
lies the beautiful Newfoundland dog.
They follow him and then turn to the right. Why? Then they will not be
together, they won't meet? Then their acquaintance has really come to
an end? Where is he going? Mimotchka will not on any account inquire.
Perhaps mamma will help her. Precisely so; mamma asks the driver:
"Where does that road lead to?"
"To Piatigorsk."
"Then we shall not pass by Piatigorsk?"
"And Jeleznovodsk--is it yet in sight?" asks Vava.
"There it is."
And the driver points with his whip to a little white hamlet nestling
at the foot of the green mountain.
Presently the carriage enters a green grove of oaks and birch-trees.
They all inhale the pure morning air delightedly. Vava throws back her
head and looks for the larks in the sky....
Mamma sympathises with her; mamma also loves nature, loves forests and
groves. Mimotchka doesn't understand it. She only likes trees round
where the music plays, and then only when they stand in tubs and are
kept in nice order, and no spiders, chrysalides, or other nasty things
fall off them. At length, after passing the post-office, the carriage
stops at the entrance of Mitroff's Hotel. Thank God, they have arrived!
"What a funny little place Jeleznovodsk is!" says Mimotchka. "Quite a
country village!"
Three weeks have passed. Mimotchka had not felt dull. Mimotchka
had improved in looks and was blooming. One day followed another
in accordance with the regular, fixed _régime._ At seven o'clock
Mimotchka and Vava got up, and at eight they were already at the
morning music, where they drank the waters and walked up and down till
breakfast-time. Afterwards a bath, then middle-day dinner, and again
waters and more walking up and down, and again music and waters and
walking up and down, and so on until the evening, when they went to bed
tired out and slept like dead men.
Doctor Variashski, who had arrived at Jeleznovodsk a couple of days
before them, met them very amiably; he recommended them apartments, he
found them a man-cook, and he also recommended them a doctor for Vava,
a specialist for nervous illnesses. He advised Mimotchka to ride on
horseback, and offered to accompany her himself on her rides.
And all this was the more agreeable to mamma, because she believed in
Variashski as firmly as she did in the Almighty!
And how conscientiously Mimotchka followed out her cure! Mamma watched
it so strictly, that if at the spring they accidentally poured out a
little more than half a tumbler of water for Mimotchka, she made them
throw it all away and fill it up again.... As if it were possible to
allow it! If you made a cure you must do it properly. The waters were
not to be trifled with....
And this conscientious cure greatly benefited Mimotchka. She had a
pretty colour in her cheeks and her eyes shone brighter and more
joyfully.... She did not get tired so soon, and both slept and ate
better.
From the second evening after their arrival our ladies showed
themselves daily at the music, where they at once attracted attention
by the elegance of their toilettes and general appearance. Mamma found
the society dreadful. The ladies looked like bakers' or farmers' wives,
and the men were even worse. There was hardly any one from Petersburg,
and nobody at all whom they knew. At first mamma only exchanged salutes
with Variashski and an old maiden lady from Petersburg, who was there
for the third summer with her brother, who had lost the use of his
legs. The old maid felt quite at home, and seemed to think herself
superior to everyone, for she held herself very proudly. She knew all
the doctors, their wives, their histories, and their gossip.... And
although in mamma's eyes the doctors' wives were as bad as the bakers'
and farmers' wives, still she examined them with some interest through
her eyeglass while listening to Mdlle. Kossovitch's tales.
Vava sat stiffly and obediently by mamma's side, but still kept a
lookout for Washington and William Tell, in case they should be passing
among the crowd, and, not finding them, amused herself Watching the
games of the children playing in the circle round them.
Mimotchka smiled up at Doctor Variashski while she looked out for
_him,_ l'homme au chien. But he was not there.
He only showed himself at the music two weeks after their arrival, when
Mimotchka had already left off expecting him and had almost forgotten
him. And he appeared in the society of the most dreadful ladies. Beside
the bakers' wives and the doctors' wives and all the other provincials,
there were also actresses at the springs. There was almost the entire
company from the Kieff theatre. Among the actresses there was a certain
Mdlle. Lenskaia, a very pretty light comedy actress, and with her her
sister, who was not an actress, but who was also decidedly pretty. Both
sisters were always showily dressed, and wore very light colours; they
were always very lively and always surrounded by men. Every new arrival
at Jeleznovodsk followed in their train for the first few days, but
afterwards, when he had settled down and looked about, he generally
found other acquaintances and hardly even bowed to the sisters; but
still as there were fresh arrivals every day, they were never left
without cavaliers. Well, it was with them that he appeared at the
music. He was giving his arm to the eldest Lenskaia (not the actress),
who was smiling more gaily than ever and showing her beautiful white
teeth. They were followed by the younger Lenskaia and an actress named
Morozoff, surrounded by a crowd of young men. In front of them all
walked Rex. His master was again quite differently dressed, and wore a
light suit and a hat with a white veil round it, but there was still
the same _cachet_ of elegance about him. Vava called the dog loudly by
its name, which made _him_ look round and recognise the ladies. But
he only glanced at them rapidly and then immediately began whispering
something to his companion. Then the whole party seated themselves in a
semi-circle close by Mimotchka, to whom it was extremely unpleasant.
What sort of a man could he be to find pleasure in such society?...
From the very first Mimotchka had thought Mdlle. Lenskaia's sister
perfectly disgusting. She is pretty, certainly; but what a
creature!... And what horrid-looking eyes she has--so watery and with
ugly, dark circles round them. And her hands are not good. And how
vulgarly she dresses! what a mixture of colours! And Rex lies at her
feet, and she strokes his head with her ungloved hand, and laughs
and beams with pleasure because _he_ is evidently saying something
flattering, amiable, and agreeable to her.
Mimotchka felt hurt. She was sitting there alone near mamma and
Mdlle. Kossovitch, who went on talking. Vava had gone off with a new
acquaintance to her gymnastics. Variashski was not at the music; nor
were there any officers of her husband's division there. And she had
to sit alone and look at the mountains she was so tired of and at that
improper set of people.
That evening she returned home in very low spirits; she even felt
ready to cry. No doubt she had over-walked herself that day, or else it
was the "reaction."
By the morning, however, her vexation had passed. It even seemed to her
ridiculous to have so taken to heart the indifference of a man who was
a perfect stranger to her. She doesn't want anyone. Is she looking out
for an admirer? Good gracious, if she only liked, ... why she could
have the whole division at her feet, and not only officers either, but
others besides. Isn't she pretty? At any rate she is as good-looking as
those actresses in their many-coloured dresses.
And what does she care about them? what does it all matter to her? She
has come here for her cure. She likes being here alone without Spiridon
Ivanovitch and without baby. She feels as if she were a girl again, a
free, young creature. She knows that her toilettes are the best here,
and that she herself is prettier than anyone. She can read it in the
glances of the men and women she meets.... And that is all she requires.
She continued to drink the water conscientiously, occupied herself with
her toilettes and her appearance, and when she met him (he had now
settled at Jeleznovodsk) she looked at him with no more interest than
if he were a lamp-post. But, without paying the least attention to him,
she always saw how he was dressed, who he was with, what humour he was
in, and how he looked at her....
Vava, in the meantime, was in the seventh heaven. She went out alone.
Mamma had not actually given her permission, but she winked at it.
In the morning Vava went with Mimotchka to the music, but as soon as
Doctor Variashski, or one of the officers of Spiridon Ivanovitch's
division came up, Vava fled, and in a few minutes she was somewhere in
the forest, in the thickly wooded paths or high up among the rocks,
over which she clambered like a goat. She had her favourite corners for
every hour of the day. She knew from where there was the best view of
the sunset, where it was coolest at midday, and where it was warmest
in the early morning.... Vava was not afraid of snakes, nor of the
great tarantula spiders; she pushed her way through the heart of the
forest, through the thick, high grass and nettles of the steppe, and
came home with her shoes torn to pieces, her face and hands covered
with scratches, burrs and grass sticking to her hair, and earwigs and
caterpillars on her clothes and on her dress.... Katia, by mamma's
order, had to dress her afresh and put her to rights, and Vava said
laughingly that she only thoroughly enjoyed those walks which bore
witness of her communion with nature. The mornings Vava generally spent
up in the mountains. There, before you came to the top, was a little
plateau, overgrown with wild hollyhocks and filbert bushes, where Vava
lay among the grass or sat on a stone and gazed at Mount Beshtau,
at the blue valleys, and at little Jeleznovodsk nestling under the
mountains, with its clean white houses, and the gold cross shining on
its church, and from where you could even hear the cocks crowing and
the dogs barking.... And on the left, from the tufts of green trees,
came the sounds of the orchestra playing the waltz "Bygone Days." There
they were going round, those invalids that Vava knew so well, strolling
about and meeting and greeting and looking at each other. Vava looked
around her and thought that here also there was bustle and music. A
chorus of crickets chirped the waltzes; the ants worked on busily and
anxiously just like the doctors with their prey or without it.... And
the lady-birds, beetles, caterpillars, butterflies and bees were the
public. Vava thought it much nicer to be at this music than at the
music below. Here she could lie on the grass and she was so happy, so
happy! The sun warmed her chilly body, and in her soul there was such
peace and joy as she had never known at home. Here she was with God I
And she experienced a full sense of blessedness without anything to mar
it. From afar she even loved her mother. When she thought of her she
pictured her in the most sympathetic colours.... Active, judicious,
careful, although severe.... And Vava dreamt of a time when they would
understand each other better and become friends, and Vava would show
that there really was some good in her ...? Her brother would marry and
leave his family, her sister would also marry, although Zina always
said that she Would only marry a man with a title.... Still somebody
with a title might perhaps be found ... And Vava would remain at home
alone with her father and mother.... Then most likely life would be
easier for her and everything would come right. And meanwhile she is
quite content to be here. She does not feel either lonely or unhappy.
The sun's caresses warm her, the wood is full of sounds of life, the
bees hum on "the white acacia, bending beneath the weight of its
flowers.... The butterflies circle in the air.... And Vava is so
happy, that she feels with all her soul that there is no creature on
God's earth entirely forsaken, forgotten, and miserable.... And, lying
on the grass, she looks at the heavens, while over her head a great
eagle soars calmly up, as if carrying on his broad wings her dreams,
her hopes, and her faith in her God.