By replying thus to Pavel Pavlovitch’s greeting Velchaninoff surprised
himself. It seemed strange indeed to him that he should now meet this man
without any feeling of anger, and that there should be something quite
novel in his feelings towards Pavel Pavlovitch—a sort of call to new
relations with him.
“What a lovely evening!” said Pavel Pavlovitch, looking observantly into
the other’s eyes.
“So you haven’t gone away yet!” murmured Velchaninoff, not in a tone of
inquiry, but as though musing upon the fact as he continued to walk on.
“I’ve been a good deal delayed; but I’ve obtained my petition, my new
post, with rise of salary. I’m off the day after to-morrow for certain.”
“What? You’ve obtained the new situation?”
“And why not?” said Pavel Pavlovitch, with a crooked smile.
“Oh, I meant nothing particular by my remark!” said Velchaninoff frowning,
and glancing sidelong at his companion. To his surprise Pavel Pavlovitch,
both in dress and appearance, even down to the hat with the crape band,
was incomparably neater and tidier-looking than he was wont to be a
fortnight since.
“Why was he sitting in the public-house then?” thought Velchaninoff. This
fact puzzled him much.
“I wished to let you know of my other great joy, Alexey Ivanovitch!”
resumed Pavel.
“Joy?”
“I’m going to marry.”
“What?”
“Yes, sir! after sorrow, joy! It is ever thus in life. Oh! Alexey
Ivanovitch, I should so much like if—but you look as though you were in a
great hurry.”
“Yes, I am in a hurry, and I am ill besides.” He felt as though he would
give anything to get rid of the man; the feeling of readiness to develop
new and better relations with him had vanished in a moment.
“I should so much like——”
Pavel Pavlovitch did not finish his sentence; Velchaninoff kept silence
and waited.
“In that case, perhaps another time—if we should happen to meet.”
“Yes, yes, another time,” said Velchaninoff quickly, continuing to move
along, and never looking at his companion.
Nothing was said for another minute or two. Pavel Pavlovitch continued to
trot alongside.
“In that case, _au revoir_,” he blurted, at last. “_Au revoir!_ I hope——”
Velchaninoff did not think it necessary to hear him complete his sentence;
he left Pavel, and returned home much agitated. The meeting with “that
fellow” had been too much for his present state of mind. As he lay down
upon his bed the thought came over him once more: “Why was that fellow
there, close to the cemetery?” He determined to go down to the
Pogoryeltseffs’ next morning; not that he felt inclined to go—any sympathy
was intolerably painful to him,—but they had been so kind and so anxious
about him, that he must really make up his mind to go. But next day, while
finishing his breakfast, he felt terribly disinclined for the visit; he
felt, as it were, shy of meeting them for the first time after his grief.
“Shall I go or not?” he was saying to himself, as he sat at his table.
When suddenly, to his extreme amazement, in walked Pavel Pavlovitch.
In spite of yesterday’s _rencontre_, Velchaninoff could not have believed
that this man would ever enter his rooms again; and when he now saw him
appear, he gazed at him in such absolute astonishment, that he simply did
not know what to say. But Pavel Pavlovitch took the management of the
matter into his own hands; he said “good morning,” and sat down in the
very same chair which he had occupied on his last visit, three weeks
since.
This circumstance reminded Velchaninoff too painfully of that visit, and
he glared at his visitor with disgust and some agitation.
“You are surprised, I see!” said Pavel Pavlovitch, reading the other’s
expression.
He seemed to be both freer, more at his ease, and yet more timid than
yesterday. His outward appearance was very curious to behold; for Pavel
Pavlovitch was not only _neatly_ dressed, he was “got up” in the pink of
fashion. He had on a neat summer overcoat, with a pair of light trousers
and a white waistcoat; his gloves, his gold eye-glasses (quite a new
acquisition), and his linen were quite above all criticism; he wafted an
odour of sweet scent when he moved. He looked funny, but his appearance
awakened strange thoughts besides.
“Of course I have surprised you, Alexey Ivanovitch,” he said, twisting
himself about; “I see it. But in my opinion there should be a something
exalted, something higher—untouched and unattainable by petty discords, or
the ordinary conditions of life, between man and man. Don’t you agree with
me, sir?”
“Pavel Pavlovitch, say what you have to say as quickly as you can, and
without further ceremony,” said Velchaninoff, frowning angrily.
“In a couple of words, sir,” said Pavel, hurriedly, “I am going to be
married, and I am now off to see my bride—at once. She lives in the
country; and what I desire is, the profound honour of introducing _you_ to
the family, sir; in fact, I have come here to petition you, sir” (Pavel
Pavlovitch bent his head deferentially)—“to beg you to go down with me.”
“Go down with you? Where to?” cried the other, his eyes starting out of
his head.
“To their house in the country, sir. Forgive me, my dear sir, if I am too
agitated, and confuse my words; but I am so dreadfully afraid of hearing
you refuse me.”
He looked at Velchaninoff plaintively.
“You wish me to accompany you to see your bride?” said Velchaninoff,
staring keenly at Pavel Pavlovitch; he could not believe either his eyes
or his ears.
“Yes—yes, sir!” murmured Pavel, who had suddenly become timid to a painful
degree. “Don’t be angry, Alexey Ivanovitch, it is not my audacity that
prompts me to ask you this; I do it with all humility, and conscious of
the unusual nature of my petition. I—I thought perhaps you would not
refuse my humble request.”
“In the first place, the thing is absolutely out of the question,” said
Velchaninoff, turning away in considerable mental perturbation.
“It is only my immeasurable longing that prompts me to ask you. I confess
I have a reason for desiring it, which reason I propose to reveal to you
afterwards; just now I——”
“The thing is quite impossible, however you may look at it. You must admit
yourself that it is so!” cried Velchaninoff. Both men had risen from their
chairs in the excitement of the conversation.
“Not at all—not at all; it is quite possible, sir. In the first place, I
merely propose to introduce you as my friend; and in the second place, you
know the family already, the Zachlebnikoff’s—State Councillor
Zachlebnikoff!”
“What? how so?” cried Velchaninoff. This was the very man whom he had so
often tried to find at home, and whom he never succeeded in hunting
down—the very lawyer who had acted for his adversary in the late legal
proceedings.
“Why, certainly—certainly!” cried Pavel Pavlovitch, apparently taking
heart at Velchaninoff’s extreme display of amazement. “The very same man
whom I saw you talking to in the street one day; when I watched you from
the other side of the road, I was waiting my turn to speak to him then. We
served in the same department twelve years since. I had no thought of all
this that day I saw you with him; the whole idea is quite new and
sudden—only a week old.”
“But—excuse me; why, surely this is a most respectable family, isn’t it?”
asked Velchaninoff, naïvely.
“Well, and what if it is respectable?” said Pavel, with a twist.
“Oh, no—of course, I meant nothing; but, so far as I could judge from what
I saw, there——”
“They remember—they remember your coming down,” cried Pavel delightedly.
“I told them all sorts of flattering things about you.”
“But, look here, how are you to marry within three months of your late
wife’s death?”
“Oh! the wedding needn’t be at once. The wedding can come off in nine or
ten months, so that I shall have been in mourning exactly a year. Believe
me, my dear sir, it’s all most charming—first place, Fedosie Petrovitch
has known me since I was a child; he knew my late wife; he knows how much
income I have; he knows all about my little private capital, and all about
my new increase of salary. So that you see the whole thing is a mere
matter of weights and scales.”
“Is she a daughter of his, then?”
“I’ll tell you all about it,” said Pavel, licking his lips with pleasure.
“May I smoke a cigarette? Now, you see, men like Fedosie Petrovitch
Zachlebnikoff are much valued in the State; but, excepting for a few
perquisites allowed them, the pay is wretched; they live well enough, but
they cannot possibly lay by money. Now, imagine, this man has eight
daughters and only one little boy: if he were to die there would be
nothing but a wretched little pension to keep the lot of them. Just
imagine now—_boots_ alone for such a family, eh? Well, out of these eight
girls five are marriageable, the eldest is twenty-four already (a splendid
girl, she is, you shall see her for yourself). The sixth is a girl of
fifteen, still at school. Well, all those five elder girls have to be
trotted about and shown off, and what does all that sort of thing cost the
poor father, sir? They must be married. Then suddenly I appear on the
scene—the first probable bridegroom in the family, and they all know that
I have money. Well, there you are, sir—the thing’s done.”
Pavel Pavlovitch was intoxicated with enthusiasm.
“Are you engaged to the eldest?”
“N—no;—not the eldest. I am wooing the sixth girl, the one at school.”
“What?” cried Velchaninoff, laughing in spite of himself. “Why, you say
yourself she’s only fifteen years old.”
“Fifteen _now_, sir; but she’ll be sixteen in nine months—sixteen and
three months—so why not? It wouldn’t be quite nice to make the engagement
public just yet, though; so there’s to be nothing formal at present, it’s
only a private arrangement between the parents and myself so far. Believe
me, my dear sir, the whole thing is apple-pie, regular and charming.”
“Then it isn’t quite settled yet?”
“Oh, _quite_ settled—quite settled. Believe me, it’s all as right and
tight as——”
“Does _she_ know?”
“Well, you see, just for form’s sake, it is not actually talked about—to
her I mean,—but she _knows_ well enough. Oh! now you _will_ make me happy
this once, Alexey Ivanovitch, won’t you?” he concluded, with extreme
timidity of voice and manner.
“But why should _I_ go with you? However,” added Velchaninoff impatiently,
“as I am not going in any case, I don’t see why I should hear any reasons
you may adduce for my accompanying you.”
“Alexey Ivanovitch!——”
“Oh, come! you don’t suppose I am going to sit down in a carriage with you
alongside, and drive down there! Come, just think for yourself!”
The feeling of disgust and displeasure which Pavel Pavlovitch had awakened
in him before, had now started into life again after the momentary
distraction of the man’s foolery about his bride. He felt that in another
minute or two he might kick the fellow out before he realized what he was
doing. He felt angry with himself for some reason or other.
“Sit down, Alexey Ivanovitch, sit down! You shall not repent it!” said
Pavel Pavlovitch in a wheedling voice. “No, no, no!” he added, deprecating
the impatient gesture which Velchaninoff made at this moment. “Alexey
Ivanovitch, I entreat you to pause before you decide definitely. I see you
have quite misunderstood me. I quite realize that I am not for you, nor
you for me! I am not quite so absurd as to be unaware of that fact. The
service I ask of you now shall not compromise you in any way for the
future. I am going away the day after to-morrow, for certain; let this one
day be an exceptional one for me, sir. I came to you founding my hopes
upon the generosity and nobility of your heart, Alexey Ivanovitch—upon
those special tender feelings which may, perhaps, have been aroused in you
by late events. Am I explaining myself clearly, sir; or do you still
misunderstand me?”
The agitation of Pavel Pavlovitch was increasing with every moment.
Velchaninoff gazed curiously at him.
“You ask a service of me,” he said thoughtfully, “and insist strongly upon
my performance of it. This is very suspicious, in my opinion; I must know
more.”
“The whole service I ask is merely that you will come with me; and I
promise, when we return that I will lay bare my heart to you as though we
were at a confessional. Trust me this once, Alexey Ivanovitch!”
But Velchaninoff still held out, and the more obstinately because he was
conscious of a certain worrying feeling which he had had ever since Pavel
Pavlovitch began to talk about his bride. Whether this feeling was simple
curiosity, or something quite inexplicable, he knew not. Whatever it was
it urged him to agree, and go. And the more the instinct urged him, the
more he resisted it.
He sat and thought for a long time, his head resting on his hand, while
Pavel Pavlovitch buzzed about him and continued to repeat his arguments.
“Very well,” he said at last, “very well, I’ll go.” He was agitated almost
to trembling pitch. Pavel was radiant.
“Then, Alexey Ivanovitch, change your clothes—dress up, will you? Dress up
in your own style—you know so well how to do it.”
Pavel Pavlovitch danced about Velchaninoff as he dressed. His state of
mind was exuberantly blissful.
“What in the world does the fellow mean by it all?” thought Velchaninoff.
“I’m going to ask you one more favour yet, Alexey Ivanovitch,” cried the
other. “You’ve consented to come; you must be my guide, sir, too.”
“For instance, how?”
“Well, for instance, here’s an important question—the crape. Which ought I
to do—tear it off, or leave it on?”
“Just as you like.”
“No, I want your opinion. What should you do yourself, if you were wearing
crape, under the circumstances? My own idea was, that if I left it on, I
should be giving a proof of the fidelity of my affections. A very
flattering recommendation, eh, sir?”
“Oh, take it off, of course.”
“Do you really think it’s a matter of ’of course’?” Pavel Pavlovitch
reflected. “No,” he continued, “do you know, I think I’d rather leave it
on.”
“Well, do as you like! He doesn’t trust me, at all events, which is one
good thing,” thought Velchaninoff.
They left the house at last. Pavel looked over his companion’s smart
costume with intense satisfaction. Velchaninoff was greatly surprised at
Pavel’s conduct, but not less so at his own. At the gate there stood a
very superior open carriage.
“H’m! so you had a carriage in waiting, had you? Then you were quite
convinced that I would consent to come down with you, I suppose?”
“I took the carriage for my own use, but I was nearly sure you would
come,” said Pavel Pavlovitch, who wore the air of a man whose cup of
happiness is full to the brim.
“Don’t you think you are a little too sanguine in trusting so much to my
benevolence?” asked Velchaninoff, as they took their seats and started. He
smiled as he spoke, but his heart was full of annoyance.
“Well, Alexey Ivanovitch, it is not for _you_ to call me a fool for that,”
replied Pavel, firmly and impressively.
“H’m! and Liza?” thought Velchaninoff, but he chased the idea away, he
felt as though it were sacrilege to think of her here; and immediately
another thought came in, namely, how small, how petty a creature he must
be himself to harbour such a thought—such a mean, paltry sentiment in
connection with Liza’s sacred name. So angry was he, that he felt as
though he must stop the carriage and get out, even though it cost him a
struggle with Pavel Pavlovitch to do so.
But at this moment Pavel spoke, and the old feeling of desire to go with
him re-entered his soul. “Alexey Ivanovitch,” Pavel said, “are you a judge
of articles of value?”
“What sort of articles?”
“Diamonds.”
“Yes.”
“I wish to take down a present with me. What do you think? Ought I to give
her one, or not?”
“Quite unnecessary, I should think.”
“But I wish to do it, badly. The only thing is, what shall I give?—a whole
set, brooch, ear-rings, bracelet, and all, or only one article?”
“How much do you wish to spend?”
“Oh, four or five hundred roubles.”
“Bosh!”
“What, too much?”
“Buy one bracelet for about a hundred.”
This advice depressed Pavel Pavlovitch; he grew wondrous melancholy. He
was terribly anxious to spend a lot of money, and buy the whole set. He
insisted upon the necessity of doing so.
A shop was reached and entered, and Pavel bought a bracelet after all, and
that not the one he chose himself, but the one which his companion fixed
upon. Pavel wished to buy both. When the shopman, who originally asked one
hundred and seventy five, let the bracelet go for a hundred and fifty
roubles, Pavel Pavlovitch was anything but pleased. He was most anxious to
spend a lot of money on the young lady, and would have gladly paid two
hundred roubles for the same goods, on the slightest encouragement.
“It doesn’t matter, my being in a hurry to give her presents, does it?” he
began excitedly, when they were back in the carriage, and rolling along
once more. “They are not ‘swells’ at all; they live most simply. Innocence
loves presents,” he continued, smiling cunningly. “You laughed just now,
Alexey Ivanovitch, when I said that the girl was only fifteen; but, you
know, what specially struck me about her was, that she still goes to
school, with a sweet little bag in her hand, containing copy books and
pencils. Ha-ha-ha! It was the little satchel that ‘fetched’ me. I do love
innocence, Alexey Ivanovitch. I don’t care half so much for good looks as
for innocence. Fancy, she and her friend were sitting in the corner there,
the other day, and roared with laughter because the cat jumped from a
cupboard on to the sofa, and fell down all of a heap. Why, it smells of
fresh apples, that does, sir. Shall I take off the crape, eh?”
“Do as you like!”
“Well, I’ll take it off!” He took his hat, tore the crape off, and threw
the latter into the road.
Velchaninoff remarked that as he put his hat on his bald head once more,
he wore an expression of the simplest and frankest hope and delight.
“Is he _really_ that sort of man?” thought Velchaninoff with annoyance.
“He surely _can’t_ be trundling me down here without some underhand
motive—impossible! He _can’t_ be trusting entirely to my generosity?” This
last idea seemed to fill him with indignation. “What _is_ this clown of a
fellow?” he continued to reflect. “Is he a fool, an idiot, or simply a
‘permanent husband’? I can’t make head or tail of it all!”