My father, more the Terrible O'Rourke than ever, at once refused to have
anything to do with me. He denied me his kiss and his forgiveness. I was
very unhappy.
"Oh, don't bother your head about that tiresome old man," said Vassili,
much annoyed by my tears.
As for my mother, she could only entreat Vassili to be kind and gentle
with me.
"Take care of her, Vassili," she implored. "I have given her to you lest
she should die of a broken heart: but she is really too young to be any
one's wife--she is but a child! I do not know whether you understand me.
Remember she is not yet a woman. She is a child."
"Yes, yes, yes," said Vassili, without paying much attention. "That's
all right. I shall tweak her nose if she is naughty."
"And if I am good?" I asked, lifting ecstatic eyes to his handsome
nonchalant face.
"If you are good you shall have sweets and kisses!" and he laughed,
showing all his white teeth.
"Promise me, Vassili, that you will always sing my favorite song: 'Oh
distant steppes, oh savage plains,' to me, and to no one else."
"To you and to no one else," said Vassili with mock solemnity. "Come
then, Marie Tarnowska!" and he drew my arm under his, patting my hand on
which the new nuptial ring shone in all its brightness.
"_Marie Tarnowska!_" What a beautiful name! I could have wished the
whole world to know that name; I could have wished that every one seeing
me should say: "Behold, behold Marie Tarnowska, happiest and most
blessed among women."