THE PERMANENT HUSBAND.
Two years have elapsed since the events recorded in the foregoing
chapters, and we find our friend Velchaninoff, one lovely summer day,
seated in a railway carriage on his way to Odessa; he was making the
journey for the purpose of seeing a great friend, and of being introduced
to a lady whose acquaintance he had long wished to make.
Without entering into any details, we may remark that Velchaninoff was
entirely changed during these last two years. He was no longer the
miserable, fanciful hypochondriac of those dark days. He had returned to
society and to his friends, who gladly forgave him his temporary relapse
into seclusion. Even those whom he had ceased to bow to, when met, were
now among the first to extend the hand of friendship once more, and asked
no questions—just as though he had been abroad on private business, which
was no affair of theirs.
His success in the legal matters of which we have heard, and the fact of
having his sixty thousand roubles safe at his bankers—enough to keep him
all his life—was the elixir which brought him back to health and spirits.
His premature wrinkles departed, his eyes grew brighter, and his
complexion better; he became more active and vigorous—in fact, as he sat
thinking in a comfortable first-class carriage, he looked a very different
man from the Velchaninoff of two years ago.
The next station to be reached was that at which passengers were expected
to dine, forty minutes being allowed for this purpose.
It so happened that Velchaninoff, while seated at the dinner table, was
able to do a service to a lady who was also dining there. This lady was
young and nice looking, though rather too flashily dressed, and was
accompanied by a young officer who unfortunately was scarcely in a
befitting condition for ladies’ society, having refreshed himself at the
bar to an unnecessary extent. This young man succeeded in quarrelling with
another person equally unfit for ladies’ society, and a brawl ensued,
which threatened to land both parties upon the table in close proximity to
the lady. Velchaninoff interfered, and removed the brawlers to a safe
distance, to the great and almost boundless gratitude of the alarmed lady,
who hailed him as her “guardian angel.” Velchaninoff was interested in the
young woman, who looked like a respectable provincial lady—of provincial
manners and taste, as her dress and gestures showed.
A conversation was opened, and the lady immediately commenced to lament
that her husband was “never by when he was wanted,” and that he had now
gone and hidden himself somewhere just because he happened to be required.
“Poor fellow, he’ll catch it for this,” thought Velchaninoff. “If you will
tell me your husband’s name,” he added aloud, “I will find him, with
pleasure.”
“Pavel Pavlovitch,” hiccupped the young officer.
“Your husband’s name is Pavel Pavlovitch, is it?” inquired Velchaninoff
with curiosity, and at the same moment a familiar bald head was interposed
between the lady and himself.
“Here you are _at last_,” cried the wife, hysterically.
It was indeed Pavel Pavlovitch.
He gazed in amazement and dread at Velchaninoff, falling back before him
just as though he saw a ghost. So great was his consternation, that for
some time it was clear that he did not understand a single word of what
his wife was telling him—which was that Velchaninoff had acted as her
guardian angel, and that he (Pavel) ought to be ashamed of himself for
never being at hand when he was wanted.
At last Pavel Pavlovitch shuddered, and woke up to consciousness.
Velchaninoff suddenly burst out laughing. “Why, we are old friends”—he
cried, “friends from childhood!” He clapped his hand familiarly and
encouragingly on Pavel’s shoulder. Pavel smiled wanly. “Hasn’t he ever
spoken to you of Velchaninoff?”
“No, never,” said the wife, a little confused.
“Then introduce me to your wife, you faithless friend!”
“This—this is Mr. Velchaninoff!” muttered Pavel Pavlovitch, looking the
picture of confusion.
All went swimmingly after this. Pavel Pavlovitch was despatched to cater
for the party, while his lady informed Velchaninoff that they were on
their way from O——, where Pavel Pavlovitch served, to their country
place—a lovely house, she said, some twenty-five miles away. There they
hoped to receive a party of friends, and if Mr. Velchaninoff would be so
very kind as to take pity on their rustic home, and honour it with a
visit, she should do her best to show her gratitude to the guardian angel
who, etc., etc. Velchaninoff replied that he would be delighted; and that
he was an idle man, and always free—adding a compliment or two which
caused the fair lady to blush with delight, and to tell Pavel Pavlovitch,
who now returned from his quest, that Alexey Ivanovitch had been so kind
as to promise to pay them a visit next week, and stay a whole month.
Pavel Pavlovitch, to the amazed wrath of his wife, smiled a sickly smile,
and said nothing.
After dinner the party bade farewell to Velchaninoff, and returned to
their carriage, while the latter walked up and down the platform smoking
his cigar; he knew that Pavel Pavlovitch would return to talk to him.
So it turned out. Pavel came up with an expression of the most anxious and
harassed misery. Velchaninoff smiled, took his arm, led him to a seat, and
sat down beside him. He did not say anything, for he was anxious that
Pavel should make the first move.
“So you are coming to us?” murmured the latter at last, plunging _in
medias res_.
“I knew you’d begin like that! you haven’t changed an atom!” cried
Velchaninoff, roaring with laughter, and slapping him confidentially on
the back. “Surely, you don’t really suppose that I ever had the smallest
intention of visiting you—and staying a month too!”
Pavel Pavlovitch gave a start.
“Then you’re _not_ coming?” he cried, without an attempt to hide his joy.
“No, no! of course not!” replied Velchaninoff, laughing. He did not know
why, but all this was exquisitely droll to him; and the further it went
the funnier it seemed.
“Really—are you really serious?” cried Pavel, jumping up.
“Yes; I tell you, I won’t come—not for the world!”
“But what will my wife say now? She thinks you intend to come!”
“Oh, tell her I’ve broken my leg—or anything you like!”
“She won’t believe!” said Pavel, looking anxious.
“Ha-ha-ha! You catch it at home, I see! Tell me, who is that young
officer?”
“Oh, a distant relative of mine—an unfortunate young fellow——”
“Pavel Pavlovitch!” cried a voice from the carriage, “the second bell has
rung!”
Pavel was about to move off—Velchaninoff stopped him.
“Shall I go and tell your wife how you tried to cut my throat?” he said.
“What are you thinking of—God forbid!” cried Pavel, in a terrible fright.
“Well, go along, then!” said the other, loosing his hold of Pavel’s
shoulder.
“Then—then—you won’t come, will you?” said Pavel once more, timidly and
despairingly, and clasping his hands in entreaty.
“No—I won’t—I swear!—run away—you’ll be late!” He put out his hand
mechanically, then recollected himself, and shuddered. Pavel did not take
the proffered hand, he withdrew his own.
The third bell rang.
An instantaneous but total change seemed to have come over both. Something
snapped within Velchaninoff’s heart—so it seemed to him, and he who had
been roaring with laughter a moment before, seized Pavel Pavlovitch
angrily by the shoulder.
“If I—_I_ offer you my hand, sir” (he showed the scar on the palm of his
left hand)—“if _I_ can offer you my hand, sir, I should think _you_ might
accept it!” he hissed with white and trembling lips.
Pavel Pavlovitch grew deadly white also, his lips quivered and a
convulsion seemed to run through his features:
“And—Liza?” he whispered quickly. Suddenly his whole face worked, and
tears started to his eyes.
Velchaninoff stood like a log before him.
“Pavel Pavlovitch! Pavel Pavlovitch!” shrieked the voice from the
carriage, in despairing accents, as though some one were being murdered.
Pavel roused himself and started to run. At that moment the engine
whistled, and the train moved off. Pavel Pavlovitch just managed to cling
on, and so climb into his carriage, as it moved out of the station.
Velchaninoff waited for another train, and then continued his journey to
Odessa.
THE END.
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FOOTNOTES
1 The present value of a rouble is about two shillings.
2 Short for Alexander and Nadejda.