before, and if she had not met him, Val, here, she would never have
known the happiness of love. But now, c'est pour la vie, n'est-ce-pas?
"Oui, c'est pour la vie!"
He himself seemed to be deeply unhappy in his family life. His wife was
a cold, hard pedant, who was incapable of responding to the transports
of his ardent soul. She was _une femelle;_ yes, that was the word. Why
had he married her?... It was a long story. Some day he would tell
it to Mimotchka, afterwards, but meanwhile ... "Let me drink of this
sea!" ... And he kissed her eyes.
For the first two weeks he told Mimotchka that he should certainly come
to Petersburg, and they talked about the delightful evenings they would
spend together at theatres and concerts. They would meet every day. But
as the time of separation drew near these plans somewhat changed.
He received a business letter from Kieff. It appeared he would hardly
be able to get away to Petersburg. An affair was impending, an
important, complicated lawsuit, with the particulars of which he made
Mimotchka acquainted. He was to defend a celebrated thief, a regular
scoundrel.
"But why defend a scoundrel?" asked Mimotchka; "then you don't think
him guilty?"
"I am convinced of his guilt!"
"And you would defend him _quand meme?_"
"Every man has a right to a defence. It's easy enough to acquit an
innocent man. His innocence itself speaks for him. But to pardon a
guilty man, to turn to him indulgently and mercifully, as a Christian
should turn to his brother, whoever he is, much intelligence and much
knowledge of the human heart is required. Christ did not judge, Christ
justified all, and for this very reason, and to awaken in the juries'
hearts that divine spark which exists in everyone of us ..."
"But surely they won't acquit him?"
"Perhaps they will."
"What, a good-for-nothing fellow like that! I would transport him with
hard labour. And because of him we shan't see each other any more. How
I hate him! And yet you are going to defend him." ... And Mimotchka
began to cry.
"What a child you are!" said Valerian Nicolaevitch, and kissed her eyes.
"Then we shan't see each other any more?"
"What can we do?... Fate is jealous." ...
And when, three days before their departure, Mimotchka cried bitterly
on his shoulder, he stroked her hair and said rather absently:
"What can we do? We must submit. We were happy.... Fate is jealous....
Voyons, du courage.... We must look the inevitable in the face.... Let
us be thankful to Providence for these bright moments. You are still so
young....
"You will know new feelings And choose new friends.'"
"Jamais, jamais.... How can you talk like that! Don't you care if I
get to love someone else? Tu ne m'as jamais aimée!... Oh, Val, Val!"
"Enfant! voyons, ne pleurez donc pas.... What does it matter? I have
had the spring flowers, someone else will have the fruits.... Don't
look so terrified!... Je connais la vie, voilà tout!... You're not
angry with me?... No!... Let me kiss your eyes! How I love kissing
them I ... Fate willed it otherwise.... We have gathered the flowers."
And then came a verse from Heine and a verse from Fett.
"I shall not forget you; no, never, and do you remember too,
'Rappelle-toi, lorsque l'aurore craintive.'" ...
But Mimotchka only went on crying quietly and silently, shaking her
head and kissing his hands, while her copious tears dropped like hail
on the necktie of "Love and Treachery."
Then they exchanged turquoise rings. Mimotchka had her photograph done
for him in her riding-habit, on the same horse on which she had ridden
to the "Castle of Love and Treachery," and he had his done for her in
his Tcherkesk costume. They had very much wished to visit the "Castle"
again, but somehow something always hindered their doing so....
Meanwhile mamma was already packing up and scolding Katia, who seemed
bereft of her senses, forgetting orders, letting things drop out of her
hands, and packing heavy garments on the top of light ones.
Vava tied up the copybooks containing her impressions of her travels
and her projects of a home for destitute children, and wrote down the
addresses of her Caucasian friends.
And Katia, on her knees before the open trunk, spread tissue paper
over Mimotchka's plush jacket, and from time to time big tears dropped
on the jacket and on the linen laid over it. Oh, those Caucasian
turquoises!...
Early in the morning a travelling carriage stood at the door of
Baranoffsky's apartments. Vava shook hands warmly with her friends,
who had come to say good-bye to her. She had very much improved during
the summer, had got sunburnt, stouter, and stronger. She had spent
a lovely summer here, and how sorry she was to part from those blue
mountains, from those walks and little paths in the wood, and from
her good friends! Ah, how sorry, how sorry! And Vava, forgetting all
about her mother's strictness and home regulations, and her previous
unsuccessful attempts to introduce her friends, invited them all--yes,
all--to come and see her--please--be sure to--as soon as any one of
them came to Petersburg! She would be so happy!... "Don't forget, No. 5
Millionnaia, apartment 2.... Please do be sure to come!"
Mimotchka came out in a travelling hat, in a waterproof, with a
travelling bag on her arm, and muffled up in a thick gauze veil. She
was calm and composed. She had cried away all her tears the day before.
Valerian Nicolaevitch was kind enough to offer to accompany them on
horseback as far as Essentouki. He was in his Tcherkesk costume,
leaning picturesquely on his saddle, and humming a song of Kapri's, "I
remember the blissful meetings." ...
Katia ran out with bandboxes in her hands, weeping and panting....
Mamma stared at her in amazement. Everything was put in, everything was
in its place. The ladies took their seats and the carriage drove off
from Kislovodsk.
They said good-bye at Essentouki. Valerian Nicolaevitch kissed mamma's
hand, and she expressed the hope that he would come and see them in
Petersburg. Vava also invited him to come and see her. She was so sorry
that everything Caucasian was leaving her. Mimotchka was silent, but
gazed at him mournfully.
And the carriage drove on further in the direction of the station.
It was a grey, dull-looking morning, and a thick, fine rain beat
against the windows when the ladies woke up as they neared Petersburg.
Rain, rain, rain.... A melancholy grey sky.... The villas round
Petersburg with their fir-tree plantations; the muddy, swampy roads
with the ditches at the edge and the thickly-grown bracken pass before
them ..., Moss, bilberry bushes, marsh and fog....
Here are the well-known market-gardens with the cabbages, and the
barracks, and the platform of the Petersburg railway station; the rain
has stopped and the sun is shining on the wet platform.
There is Spiridon Ivanovitch's orderly and there is Aunt Julia's
footman.
And here stands Spiridon Ivanovitch himself, resplendent, like a
peony, in his crimson-lined overcoat.... Mamma joyfully taps on the
window-pane to him. He has seen them, seen them and recognised them!
Mimotchka's heart sinks. How old he looks, and what a stranger he
seems to her, what a stranger!... She wishes the train would not stop,
but would go on further and further and carry her away past.... But the
train slackens speed, it stops. They must get out.
Here's Mdme. Lambert with Zina, and, oh my goodness, here's baby with
his nurse! He has come to meet his mamma! How he has grown, how he has
improved, and how sunburnt he has got, dear little mite! And just
look, he isn't a bit shy; he smiles, he says, "how-do-you-do" to them
all, stretches out his lips to be kissed by his mother and grandmother
and Vava.... And he salutes, yes, he has learnt how to make a military
salute, putting up his little hand to his head and saying, "I wish you
good health!" Oh, what a darling!
And grandmamma smothers baby with kisses, and tears of pride and
tenderness rise to her eyes, when baby, drawing himself up straight in
front of her, says to her, "I wish you good health, your excellency!"
And Spiridon Ivanovitch enfolds Mimotchka in his ample embrace.
A week after their arrival they were all assembled at Aunt Julia's. She
was in a state of great jubiliation. Her son Vova was engaged, and his
_fiancée_ was in every way most suitable. She was both wealthy and well
connected.... The engagement was not yet formally announced, but the
affair was quite settled. The _fiancée_ was not pretty and she was no
longer very young, but she was over head and ears in love with Vova.
Aunt Julia liked her very much, and in speaking to her sisters of the
young lady she said: "Elle n'est pas futile."
Aunt Julia thanked mamma very warmly for her care of Vava. Not to
speak of Vava's having much improved physically, she had also morally
changed, for the better; she was more self-controlled, gentler, and
more obedient. And so she was given a separate room all to herself,
where she could sleep, write, and study without Mdme. Lambert.
"Well, so altogether you had a pleasant trip?" says Aunt Julia in
conclusion.
"Delightful, delightful. I am so glad Variashski sent us there."
"But how much prettier Mimotchka has grown! Why, she is simply
unrecognisable."
"It's striking!" says Aunt Mary. "Next summer I shall go to Kislovodsk
to get young and beautiful again."
Mimotchka smiles modestly and composedly.
"And that Netty!" says Aunt Sophy. "Haven't you heard what a scandal
there was?"
"No, what is it? Zina wrote something or other about it, but we could
not make out what she meant."
"She is separated from her husband, and has now disappeared from
Petersburg and gone off to Paris, where she changes her lovers as
often as her gloves. It's awful! She always did behave like a fool.
Just before her husband had to go to sea her conscience began to get
uneasy. If it had only kept quiet until he came back! No, she goes to
confession and tells everything to the priest, this and that, and says
she has committed a sin against her husband. The priest directly says:
'And does your husband know of it? 'No,' she says. 'Well then, don't
tell him of it.' And he explained to her why she was to keep silence,
that as she had sinned, she must suffer, but that he must not suffer
for it."
"They always say that," puts in Aunt Mary thoughtlessly, and meeting
Aunt Julia's inquiring gaze, she adds, "I have heard of many such cases
where the priests said that."
"Well she comes straight home from confession and says to her husband,
'I went to the priest and told him all about my sin.' 'What sin?' And
there it was. What!... Scenes and explanations. He wants to shoot
himself and she wants to shoot herself. He wants to kill her, to kill
the other man, to kill himself. _... A la fin des fins_ he goes to
sea, and she, after throwing all the children on the old Poltavsteffs'
hands, goes off to her beloved and sets about getting a divorce. After
two months the other man cannot stand her any longer and runs away
from her. She takes poison, the doctors save her life, and then she
goes off to Paris. She has been there now already three weeks, and
there are very very ugly rumours about her." ...
"Oh, how sorry I am far the old Poltavsteffs!" says mamma: "how
dreadful it is for them!"
"I said a long time ago that she was in a dangerous way," says Aunt
Julia.
Mimotchka nods her head affirmatively.
"Well, _à propos_ of love affairs," says Aunt Sophy, "is it true that
in the Caucasus, at the springs, there is so much flirting going on?"
"Ah, don't mention it!" answers mamma, smiling. "What things we saw and
what things we heard! And Variashski, too, just imagine!" ...
"And wasn't there anyone after Mimi? Est-ce qu'il y a eu quelqu'un
pour te faire la cour?... Et personne ne t'a donné dans l'œil?" ...
"Quelle idée, ma tante!... Why, there was no one there. At least, there
were many sympathetic, agreeable people, but nobody of that sort." ...
And Mimotchka, smiling her old Petersburg smile, shakes her head in
denial.
"And is nature really so beautiful there?" asks Aunt Julia; "Vava goes
into ecstasies about the mountains."
"But they didn't see anything," said Spiridon Ivanovitch regretfully.
"How was it you never went to Bermamout? Why, I wrote and told you to
go. To be at Kislovodsk and not go to Bermamout! Oh, you!... you were
among the real mountains and never went to see them."
"But there was no one to go with," said Mimotchka, defending herself.
"The X---- 's had left before our arrival, and somehow we three never
managed it alone. I really did so try to go and see everything."
"Yes, it must be very lovely there," says Aunt Mary, looking through
the stereoscope at some views of the Caucasus that Vava had brought
back. "How beautiful this is! What is it?"
"This?" says Mimotchka, bending over Aunt Mary to look through the
stereoscope. "This is the 'Castle of Love and Treachery.' They are
rocks that look like a castle, and that is what they are called."
"And is it really as beautiful? Did you go there?"
"Yes, I went there on horseback.... It's very beautiful, especially by
moon-light--c'est féerique."
End of Project Gutenberg's Mimi's Marriage, by Lidia Ivanovna Veselitskaya