The Zachlebnikoffs were certainly, as Velchaninoff had expressed it, a
most respectable family. Zachlebnikoff himself was a most eminently
dignified and “solid” gentleman to look at. What Pavel Pavlovitch had said
as to their resources was, however, quite true; they lived well, but if
paterfamilias were to die, it would be very awkward for the rest.
Old Zachlebnikoff received Velchaninoff most cordially. He was no longer
the legal opponent; he appeared now in a far more agreeable guise.
“I congratulate you,” he said at once, “upon the issue. I did my best to
arrange it so, and your lawyer was a capital fellow to deal with. You have
your sixty thousand without trouble or worry, you see; and if we hadn’t
squared it we might have fought on for two or three years.”
Velchaninoff was introduced to the lady of the house as well—an elderly,
simple-looking, worn woman. Then the girls began to troop in, one by one
and occasionally two together. But, somehow, there seemed to be even more
than Velchaninoff had been led to expect; ten or a dozen were collected
already—he could not count them exactly. It turned out that some were
friends from the neighbouring houses.
The Zachlebnikoffs’ country house was a large wooden structure of no
particular style of architecture, but handsome enough, and was possessed
of a fine large garden. There were, however, two or three other houses
built round the latter, so that the garden was common property for all,
which fact resulted in great intimacy between the Zachlebnikoff girls and
the young ladies of the neighbouring houses.
Velchaninoff discovered, almost from the first moment, that his arrival—in
the capacity of Pavel Pavlovitch’s friend, desiring an introduction to the
family—was expected, and looked forward to as a solemn and important
occasion.
Being an expert in such matters he very soon observed that there was even
more than this in his reception. Judging from the extra politeness of the
parents, and by the exceeding smartness of the young ladies, he could not
help suspecting that Pavel Pavlovitch had been improving the occasion, and
that he had—not, of course, in so many words—given to understand that
Velchaninoff was a single man—dull and disconsolate, and had represented
him as likely enough at any moment to change his manner of living and set
up an establishment, especially as he had just come in for a considerable
inheritance. He thought that Katerina Fedosievna, the eldest
girl—twenty-four years of age, and a splendid girl according to Pavel’s
description—seemed rather “got up to kill,” from the look of her. She was
eminent, even among her well-dressed sisters, for special elegance of
costume, and for a certain originality about the make-up of her abundant
hair.
The rest of the girls all looked as though they were well aware that
Velchaninoff was making acquaintance with the family “for Katie,” and had
come down “to have a look at her.” Their looks and words all strengthened
the impression that they were acting with this supposition in view, as the
day went on.
Katerina Fedosievna was a fine tall girl, rather plump, and with an
extremely pleasing face. She seemed to be of a quiet, if not actually
sleepy, disposition.
“Strange, that such a fine girl should be unmarried,” thought
Velchaninoff, as he watched her with much satisfaction.
All the sisters were nice-looking, and there were several pretty faces
among the friends assembled. Velchaninoff was much diverted by the
presence of all these young ladies.
Nadejda Fedosievna, the school-girl and bride elect of Pavel Pavlovitch,
had not as yet condescended to appear. Velchaninoff awaited her coming
with a degree of impatience which surprised and amused him. At last she
came, and came with effect, too, accompanied by a lively girl, her
friend—Maria Nikitishna—who was considerably older than herself and a very
old friend of the family, having been governess in a neighbouring house
for some years. She was quite one of the family, and boasted of about
twenty-three years of age. She was much esteemed by all the girls, and
evidently acted at present as guide, philosopher, and friend to Nadia
(Nadejda). Velchaninoff saw at the first glance that all the girls were
against Pavel Pavlovitch, friends and all; and when Nadia came in, it did
not take him long to discover that she absolutely _hated_ him. He
observed, further, that Pavel Pavlovitch either did not, or _would not_,
notice this fact.
Nadia was the prettiest of all the girls—a little _brunette_, with an
impudent audacious expression; she might have been a Nihilist from the
independence of her look. The sly little creature had a pair of flashing
eyes and a most charming smile, though as often as not her smile was more
full of mischief and wickedness than of amiability; her lips and teeth
were wonders; she was slender but well put together, and the expression of
her face was thoughtful though at the same time childish.
“Fifteen years old” was imprinted in every feature of her face and every
motion of her body. It appeared afterwards that Pavel Pavlovitch had
actually seen the girl for the first time with a little satchel in her
hand, coming back from school. She had ceased to carry the satchel since
that day.
The present brought down by Pavel Pavlovitch proved a failure, and was the
cause of a very painful impression.
Pavel Pavlovitch no sooner saw his bride elect enter the room than he
approached her with a broad grin on his face. He gave his present with the
preface that he “offered it in recognition of the agreeable sensation
experienced by him at his last visit upon the occasion of Nadejda
Fedosievna singing a certain song to the pianoforte,” and there he stopped
in confusion and stood before her lost and miserable, shoving the
jeweller’s box into her hand. Nadia, however, would not take the present,
and drew her hands away.
She approached her mother imperiously (the latter looked much put out),
and said aloud: “I won’t take it, mother.” Nadia was blushing with shame
and anger.
“Take it and say ‘thank you’ to Pavel Pavlovitch for it,” said her father
quietly but firmly. He was very far from pleased.
“Quite unnecessary, quite unnecessary!” he muttered to Pavel Pavlovitch.
Nadia, seeing there was nothing else to be done, took the case and
curtsied—just as children do, giving a little bob down and then a bob up
again, as if she had been on springs.
One of the sisters came across to look at the present whereupon Nadia
handed it over to her unopened, thereby showing that she did not care so
much as to look at it herself.
The bracelet was taken out and handed around from one to the other of the
company; but all examined it silently, and some even ironically, only the
mother of the family muttered that the bracelet was “very pretty.”
Pavel Pavlovitch would have been delighted to see the earth open and
swallow him up.
Velchaninoff helped the wretched man out of the mess. He suddenly began to
talk loudly and eloquently about the first thing that struck him, and
before five minutes had passed he had won the attention of everyone in the
room. He was a wonderfully clever society talker. He had the knack of
putting on an air of absolute sincerity, and of impressing his hearers
with the belief that he considered them equally sincere; he was able to
act the simple, careless, and happy young fellow to perfection. He was a
master of the art of interlarding his talk with occasional flashes of real
wit, apparently spontaneous but actually pre-arranged, and very likely
_stale_, in so far that he had himself made the joke before.
But to-day he was particularly successful; he felt that he must talk on
and talk well, and he knew that before many moments were past he should
succeed in monopolizing all eyes and all ears—that no joke should be
laughed at but his own, and no voice heard but his.
And sure enough the spell of his presence seemed to produce a wonderful
effect; in a while the talking and laughter became general, with
Velchaninoff as the centre and motor of all. Mrs. Zachlebnikoff’s kind
face lighted up with real pleasure, and Katie’s pretty eyes were alight
with absolute fascination, while her whole visage glowed with delight.
Only Nadia frowned at him, and watched him keenly from beneath her dark
lashes. It was clear that she was prejudiced against him. This last fact
only roused Velchaninoff to greater exertions. The mischievous Maria
Nikitishna, however, as Nadia’s ally, succeeded in playing off a
successful piece of chaff against Velchaninoff; she pretended that Pavel
Pavlovitch had represented Velchaninoff as the friend of his childhood,
thereby making the latter out to be some seven or eight years older than
he really was. Velchaninoff liked the look of Maria, notwithstanding.
Pavel Pavlovitch was the picture of perplexity. He quite understood the
success which his “friend” was achieving, and at first he felt glad and
proud of that success, laughing at the jokes and taking a share of the
conversation; but for some reason or other he gradually relapsed into
thoughtfulness, and thence into melancholy—which fact was sufficiently
plain from the expression of his lugubrious and careworn physiognomy.
“Well, my dear fellow, you are the sort of guest one need not exert
oneself to entertain,” said old Zachlebnikoff at last, rising and making
for his private study, where he had business of importance awaiting his
attention; “and I was led to believe that you were the most morose of
hypochondriacs. Dear me! what mistakes one does make about other people,
to be sure!”
There was a grand piano in the room, and Velchaninoff suddenly turned to
Nadia and remarked:
“You sing, don’t you?”
“Who told you I did?” said Nadia curtly.
“Pavel Pavlovitch.”
“It isn’t true; I only sing for a joke—I have no voice.”
“Oh, but I have no voice either, and yet I sing!”
“Well, you sing to us first, and then I’ll sing,” said Nadia, with
sparkling eyes; “not now though—after dinner. I hate music,” she added,
“I’m so sick of the piano. We have singing and strumming going on all day
here;—and Katie is the only one of us all worth hearing!”
Velchaninoff immediately attacked Katie, and besieged her with petitions
to play. This attention from him to her eldest daughter so pleased mamma
that she flushed up with satisfaction.
Katie went to the piano, blushing like a school-girl, and evidently much
ashamed of herself for blushing; she played some little piece of Haydn’s
correctly enough but without much expression.
When she had finished Velchaninoff praised the music warmly—Haydn’s music
generally, and this little piece in particular. He looked at Katie too,
with admiration, and his expression seemed to say. “By Jove, you’re a fine
girl!” So eloquent was his look that everyone in the room was able to read
it, and especially Katie herself.
“What a pretty garden you have!” said Velchaninoff after a short pause,
looking through the glass doors of the balcony. “Let’s all go out; may
we?”
“Oh, yes! do let’s go out!” cried several voices together. He seemed to
have hit upon the very thing most desired by all.
So they all adjourned into the garden, and walked about there until
dinner-time; and Velchaninoff had the opportunity of making closer
acquaintance with some of the girls of the establishment. Two or three
young fellows “dropped in” from the neighbouring houses—a student, a
school-boy, and another young fellow of about twenty in a pair of huge
spectacles. Each of these young fellows immediately attached himself to
the particular young lady of his choice.
The young man in spectacles no sooner arrived than he went aside with
Nadia and Maria Nikitishna, and entered into an animated whispering
conversation with them, with much frowning and impatience of manner.
This gentleman seemed to consider it his mission to treat Pavel Pavlovitch
with the most ineffable contempt.
Some of the girls proposed a game. One of them suggested “Proverbs,” but
it was voted dull; another suggested acting, but the objection was made
that they never knew how to finish off.
“It may be more successful with you,” said Nadia to Velchaninoff
confidentially. “You know we all thought you were Pavel Pavlovitch’s
friend, but it appears that he was only boasting. I am _very_ glad you
have come—for a certain reason!” she added, looking knowingly into
Velchaninoff’s face, and then retreating back again to Maria’s wing,
blushing.
“We’ll play ‘Proverbs’ in the evening,” said another, “and we’ll all chaff
Pavel Pavlovitch; _you_ must help us too!”
“We _are_ so glad you’re come—it’s so dull here as a rule,” said a third,
a funny-looking red-haired girl, whose face was comically hot, with
running apparently. Goodness knows where she had dropped from;
Velchaninoff had not observed her arrive.
Pavel Pavlovitch’s agitation increased every moment. Meanwhile
Velchaninoff took the opportunity of making great friends with Nadia. She
had ceased to frown at him as before, and had now developed the wildest of
spirits, dancing and jumping about, singing and whistling, and
occasionally even catching hold of his hand in her innocent friendliness.
She was very happy indeed, apparently; but she took no more notice of
Pavel Pavlovitch than if he had not been there at all.
Pavel Pavlovitch was very jealous of all this, and once or twice when
Nadia and Velchaninoff talked apart, he joined them and rudely interrupted
their conversation by interposing his anxious face between them.
Katia could not help being fully aware by this time that their charming
guest had not come in for her sake, as had been believed by the family;
indeed, it was clear that Nadia interested him so much that she excluded
everyone else, to a considerable extent, from his attention. However, in
spite of this, her good-natured face retained its amiability of expression
all the same. She seemed to be happy enough witnessing the happiness of
the rest and listening to the merry talk; she could not take a large share
in the conversation herself, poor girl!
“What a fine girl your sister, Katerina Fedosievna is,” remarked
Velchaninoff to Nadia.
“Katia? I should think so! there is no better girl in the world. She’s our
family angel! I’m in love with her myself!” replied Nadia
enthusiastically.
At last, dinner was announced, and a very good dinner it was, several
courses being added for the benefit of the guests: a bottle of tokay made
its appearance, and champagne was handed round in honour of the occasion.
The good humour of the company was general, old Zachlebnikoff was in high
spirits, having partaken of an extra glass of wine this evening. So
infectious was the hilarity that even Pavel Pavlovitch took heart of grace
and made a pun. From the end of the table where he sat beside the lady of
the house, there suddenly came a loud laugh from the delighted girls who
had been fortunate enough to hear the virgin attempt.
“Papa, papa, Pavel Pavlovitch has made a joke!” cried several at once: “he
says that there is quite a ‘galaxy of gals’ here!”
“Oho! _he’s_ made a pun too, has he?” cried the old fellow. “Well, what is
it, let’s have it!” He turned to Pavel Pavlovitch with beaming face,
prepared to roar over the latter’s joke.
“Why, I tell you, he says there’s quite a ‘galaxy of gals.’ ”
“Well, go on, where’s the joke?” repeated papa, still dense to the merits
of the pun, but beaming more and more with benevolent desire to see it.
“Oh, papa, how stupid you are not to see it. Why ‘gals’ and ‘galaxy,’
don’t you see?—he says there’s quite a gal-axy of gals!”
“Oh! oh!” guffawed the old gentleman, “Ha-ha! Well, we’ll hope he’ll make
a better one next time, that’s all.”
“Pavel Pavlovitch can’t acquire all the perfections at once,” said Maria
Nikitishna. “Oh, my goodness! he’s swallowed a bone—look!” she added,
jumping up from her chair.
The alarm was general, and Maria’s delight was great.
Poor Pavel Pavlovitch had only choked over a glass of wine, which he
seized and drank to hide his confusion; but Maria declared that it was a
fishbone—that she had seen it herself, and that people had been known to
die of swallowing a bone just like that.
“Clap him on the back!” cried somebody.
It appeared that there were numerous kind friends ready to perform this
friendly office, and poor Pavel protested in vain that it was nothing but
a common choke. The belabouring went on until the coughing fit was over,
and it became evident that mischievous Maria was at the bottom of it all.
After dinner old Mr. Zachlebnikoff retired for his post-prandial nap,
bidding the young people enjoy themselves in the garden as best they
might.
“You enjoy yourself, too!” he added to Pavel Pavlovitch, tapping the
latter’s shoulder affably as he went by.
When the party were all collected in the garden once more, Pavel suddenly
approached Velchaninoff: “One moment,” he whispered, pulling the latter by
the coat-sleeve.
The two men went aside into a lonely by-path.
“None of that _here_, please; I won’t allow it here!” said Pavel
Pavlovitch in a choking whisper.
“None of what? Who?” asked Velchaninoff, staring with all his eyes.
Pavel Pavlovitch said nothing more, but gazed furiously at his companion,
his lips trembling in a desperate attempt at a pretended smile. At this
moment the voices of several of the girls broke in upon them, calling them
to some game. Velchaninoff shrugged his shoulders and re-joined the party.
Pavel followed him.
“I’m sure Pavel Pavlovitch was borrowing a handkerchief from you, wasn’t
he? He forgot his handkerchief last time too. Pavel Pavlovitch has
forgotten his handkerchief again, and he has a cold as usual!” cried
Maria.
“Oh, Pavel Pavlovitch, why didn’t you say so?” cried Mrs. Zachlebnikoff,
making towards the house; “you shall have one at once.”
In vain poor Pavel protested that he had two of those necessary articles,
and was _not_ suffering from a cold. Mrs. Zachlebnikoff was glad of the
excuse for retiring to the house, and heard nothing. A few moments
afterwards a maid pursued Pavel with a handkerchief, to the confusion of
the latter gentleman.
A game of “proverbs” was now proposed. All sat down, and the young man
with spectacles was made to retire to a considerable distance and wait
there with his nose close up against the wall and his back turned until
the proverb should have been chosen and the words arranged. Velchaninoff
was the next in turn to be the questioner.
Then the cry arose for Pavel Pavlovitch, and the latter, who had more or
less recovered his good humour by this time, proceeded to the spot
indicated; and, resolved to do his duty like a man, took his stand with
his nose to the wall, ready to stay there motionless until called. The
red-haired young lady was detailed to watch him, in case of fraud on his
part.
No sooner, however, had the wretched Pavel taken up his position at the
wall, than the whole party took to their heels and ran away as fast as
their legs could carry them.
“Run quick!” whispered the girls to Velchaninoff, in despair, for he had
not started with them.
“Why, what’s happened? What’s the matter?” asked the latter, keeping up as
best he could.
“Don’t make a noise! we want to get away and let him go on standing
there—that’s all.”
Katia, it appeared, did not like this practical joke. When the last
stragglers of the party arrived at the end of the garden, among them
Velchaninoff, the latter found Katia angrily scolding the rest of the
girls.
“Very well,” she was saying, “I won’t tell mother this time; but I shall
go away myself: it’s too bad! What will the poor fellow’s feelings be,
standing all alone there, and finding us fled!”
And off she went. The rest, however, were entirely unsympathizing, and
enjoyed the joke thoroughly. Velchaninoff was entreated to appear entirely
unconscious when Pavel Pavlovitch should appear again, just as though
nothing whatever had happened. It was a full quarter of an hour before
Pavel put in an appearance, two thirds, at least, of that time he must
have stood at the wall. When he reached the party he found everyone busy
over a game of _Goriélki_, laughing and shouting and making themselves
thoroughly happy.
Wild with rage, Pavel Pavlovitch again made straight for Velchaninoff, and
tugged him by the coat-sleeve.
“One moment, sir!”
“Oh, my goodness! he’s always coming in with his ‘one moments’!” said
someone.
“A handkerchief wanted again probably!” shouted someone else after the
pair as they retired.
“Come now, this time it was you! You were the originator of this insult!”
muttered Pavel, his teeth chattering with fury.
Velchaninoff interrupted him, and strongly recommended Pavel to bestir
himself to be merrier.
“You are chaffed because you get angry,” he said; “if you try to be jolly
instead of sulky you’ll be let alone!”
To his surprise these words impressed Pavel deeply; he was quiet at once,
and returned to the party with a guilty air, and immediately began to take
part in the games engaged in once more. He was not further bullied at
present, and within half an hour his good humour seemed quite
re-established.
To Velchaninoff’s astonishment, however, he never seemed to presume to
speak to Nadia, although he kept as close to her, on all occasions, as he
possibly could. He seemed to take his position as quite natural, and was
not put out by her contemptuous air towards him.
Pavel Pavlovitch was teased once more, however, before the evening ended.
A game of “Hide-and-seek” was commenced, and Pavel had hidden in a small
room in the house. Being observed entering there by someone, he was locked
in, and left there raging for an hour. Meanwhile, Velchaninoff learned the
“special reason” for Nadia’s joy at his arrival. Maria conducted him to a
lonely alley, where Nadia was awaiting him alone.
“I have quite convinced myself,” began the latter, when they were left
alone, “that you are not nearly so great a friend of Pavel Pavlovitch as
he gave us to understand. I have also convinced myself that you alone can
perform a certain great service for me. Here is his horrid bracelet” (she
drew the case out of her pocket)—“I wish to ask you to be so kind as to
return it to him; I cannot do so myself, because I am quite determined
never to speak to him again all my life. You can tell him so from me, and
better add that he is not to worry me with any more of his nasty presents.
I’ll let him know something else I have to say through other channels.
Will you do this for me?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, spare me!” cried Velchaninoff, almost wringing his
hands.
“How spare you?” cried poor Nadia. Her artificial tone put on for the
occasion had collapsed at once before this check, and she was nearly
crying. Velchaninoff burst out laughing.
“I don’t mean—I should be delighted, you know—but the thing is, I have my
own accounts to settle with him!”
“I knew you weren’t his friend, and that he was lying. I shall never marry
him—never! You may rely on that! I don’t understand how he could dare—at
all events, you really _must_ give him back this horrid bracelet. What am
I to do if you don’t? I _must_ have it given back to him this very day.
He’ll catch it if he interferes with father about me!”
At this moment the spectacled young gentleman issued from the shrubs at
their elbow.
“You are bound to return the bracelet!” he burst out furiously, upon
Velchaninoff, “if only out of respect to the rights of woman——”
He did not finish the sentence, for Nadia pulled him away from beside
Velchaninoff with all her strength.
“How stupid you are,” she cried; “go away. How dare you listen? I told you
to stand a long way off!” She stamped her foot with rage, and for some
while after the young fellow had slunk away she continued to walk along
with flashing eyes, furious with indignation. “You wouldn’t believe how
stupid he is!” she cried at last. “You laugh, but think of my feelings!”
“That’s not _he_, is it?” laughed Velchaninoff.
“Of course not. How could you imagine such a thing! It’s only his friend,
and how he can choose such friends I can’t understand! They say he is a
‘future motive-power,’ but I don’t see it. Alexey Ivanovitch, for the last
time—I have no one else to ask—will you give the bracelet back or not?”
“Very well, I will. Give it to me!”
“Oh, you dear, good Alexey Ivanovitch, thanks!” she cried, enthusiastic
with delight. “I’ll sing all the evening for that! I sing beautifully, you
know! I was telling you a wicked story before dinner. Oh, I _wish_ you
would come down here again; I’d tell you _all_, then, and lots of other
things besides—for you are a dear, kind, good fellow, like—like Katia!”
And sure enough when they reached home she sat down and sang a couple of
songs in a voice which, though entirely untrained, was of great natural
sweetness and considerable strength.
When the party returned from the garden they had found Pavel Pavlovitch
drinking tea with the old folks on the balcony. He had probably been
talking on serious topics, as he was to take his departure the day after
to-morrow for nine months. He never so much as glanced at Velchaninoff and
the rest when they entered; but he evidently had not complained to the
authorities, and all was quiet as yet. But, when Nadia began to sing, he
came in. Nadia did not answer a single one of his questions, but he did
not seem offended by this, and took his stand behind her chair. Once
there, his whole appearance gave it to be understood that that was his own
place by right, and that he allowed none to dispute it.
“It’s Alexey Ivanovitch’s turn to sing now!” cried the girls, when Nadia’s
song was finished, and all crowded round to hear Velchaninoff, who sat
down to accompany himself. He chose a song of Glinke’s, too much neglected
nowadays; it ran:—
“When from your merry lips
Tenderness flows,” &c.
Velchaninoff seemed to address the words to Nadia exclusively, but the
whole party stood around him. His voice had long since gone the way of all
flesh, but it was clear that he must have had a good one once, and it so
happened that Velchaninoff had heard this particular song many years ago,
from Glinkes’ own lips, when a student at the university, and remembered
the great effect that it had made upon him when he first heard it. The
song was full of the most intense passion of expression, and Velchaninoff
sang it well, with his eyes fixed upon Nadia.
Amid the applause that followed the completion of the performance, Pavel
Pavlovitch came forward, seized Nadia’s hand and drew her away from the
proximity of Velchaninoff; he then returned to the latter at the piano,
and, with every evidence of frantic rage, whispered to him, his lips all
of a tremble,
“One moment with you!”
Velchaninoff, seeing that the man was capable of worse things in his then
frame of mind, took Pavel’s hand and led him out through the balcony into
the garden—quite dark now.
“Do you understand, sir, that you must come away at once—_this very
minute_?” said Pavel Pavlovitch.
“No, sir, I do not!”
“Do you remember,” continued Pavel in his frenzied whisper, “do you
remember that you begged me to tell you _all_, _everything_—down to the
smallest details? Well, the time has come for telling you all—come!”
Velchaninoff considered a moment, glanced once more at Pavel Pavlovitch,
and consented to go.
“Oh! stay and have another cup of tea!” said Mrs. Zachlebnikoff, when this
decision was announced.
“Pavel Pavlovitch, why are you taking Alexey Ivanovitch away?” cried the
girls, with angry looks. As for Nadia, she looked so cross with Pavel,
that the latter felt absolutely uncomfortable; but he did not give in.
“Oh, but I am very much obliged to Pavel Pavlovitch,” said Velchaninoff,
“for reminding me of some most important business which I must attend to
this very evening, and which I might have forgotten,” laughed
Velchaninoff, as he shook hands with his host and made his bow to the
ladies, especially to Katia, as the family thought.
“You must come again soon!” said the host; “we have been so glad to see
you; it was so good of you to come!”
“Yes, _so_ glad!” said the lady of the house.
“Do come again soon!” cried the girls, as Pavel Pavlovitch and
Velchaninoff took their seats in the carriage; “Alexey Ivanovitch, _do_
come back soon!” And with these voices in their ears they drove away.