“How is it you don’t know your own lodger?” said Belétski, addressing
Maryánka.
“How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?” answered
Maryánka, with a look at Olénin.
Olénin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, hardly
knowing what he was saying, remarked: “I’m afraid of your mother. She
gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.”
Maryánka burst out laughing. “And so you were frightened?” she said,
and glanced at him and turned away.
It was the first time Olénin had seen the whole of her beautiful face.
Till then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to the eyes.
It was not for nothing that she was reckoned the beauty of the village.
Ústenka was a pretty girl, small, plump, rosy, with merry brown eyes,
and red lips which were perpetually smiling and chattering. Maryánka on
the contrary was certainly not pretty but beautiful. Her features might
have been considered too masculine and almost harsh had it not been for
her tall stately figure, her powerful chest and shoulders, and
especially the severe yet tender expression of her long dark eyes which
were darkly shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle
expression of her mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her smile was
always striking. She seemed to radiate virginal strength and health.
All the girls were good-looking, but they themselves and Belétski, and
the orderly when he brought in the spice-cakes, all involuntarily gazed
at Maryánka, and anyone addressing the girls was sure to address her.
She seemed a proud and happy queen among them.
Belétski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered
incessantly, made the girls hand round _chikhir_, fooled about with
them, and kept making improper remarks in French about Maryánka’s
beauty to Olénin, calling her “yours” (_la vôtre_), and advising him to
behave as he did himself. Olénin felt more and more uncomfortable. He
was devising an excuse to get out and run away when Belétski announced
that Ústenka, whose saint’s day it was, must offer _chikhir_ to
everybody with a kiss. She consented on condition that they should put
money on her plate, as is the custom at weddings.
“What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?” thought Olénin,
rising to go away.
“Where are you off to?”
“I’ll fetch some tobacco,” he said, meaning to escape, but Belétski
seized his hand.
“I have some money,” he said to him in French.
“One can’t go away, one has to pay here,” thought Olénin bitterly,
vexed at his own awkwardness. “Can’t I really behave like Belétski? I
ought not to have come, but once I am here I must not spoil their fun.
I must drink like a Cossack,” and taking the wooden bowl (holding about
eight tumblers) he almost filled it with _chikhir_ and drank it almost
all. The girls looked at him, surprised and almost frightened, as he
drank. It seemed to them strange and not right. Ústenka brought them
another glass each, and kissed them both. “There girls, now we’ll have
some fun,” she said, clinking on the plate the four rubles the men had
put there.
Olénin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative.
“Now, Maryánka, it’s your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,” said
Belétski, seizing her hand.
“Yes, I’ll give you such a kiss!” she said playfully, preparing to
strike at him.
“One can kiss Grandad without payment,” said another girl.
“There’s a sensible girl,” said Belétski, kissing the struggling girl.
“No, you must offer it,” he insisted, addressing Maryánka. “Offer a
glass to your lodger.”
And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her down
beside Olénin.
“What a beauty,” he said, turning her head to see it in profile.
Maryánka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes
towards Olénin.
“A beautiful girl,” repeated Belétski.
“Yes, see what a beauty I am,” Maryánka’s look seemed to endorse.
Without considering what he was doing Olénin embraced Maryánka and was
going to kiss her, but she suddenly extricated herself, upsetting
Belétski and pushing the top off the table, and sprang away towards the
oven. There was much shouting and laughter. Then Belétski whispered
something to the girls and suddenly they all ran out into the passage
and locked the door behind them.
“Why did you kiss Belétski and won’t kiss me?” asked Olénin.
“Oh, just so. I don’t want to, that’s all!” she answered, pouting and
frowning. “He’s Grandad,” she added with a smile. She went to the door
and began to bang at it. “Why have you locked the door, you devils?”
“Well, let them be there and us here,” said Olénin, drawing closer to
her.
She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again she
appeared so majestically handsome to Olénin that he came to his senses
and felt ashamed of what he was doing. He went to the door and began
pulling at it himself.
“Belétski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!”
Maryánka again gave a bright happy laugh. “Ah, you’re afraid of me?”
she said.
“Yes, you know you’re as cross as your mother.”
“Spend more of your time with Eróshka; that will make the girls love
you!” And she smiled, looking straight and close into his eyes.
He did not know what to reply. “And if I were to come to see you—” he
let fall.
“That would be a different matter,” she replied, tossing her head.
At that moment Belétski pushed the door open, and Maryánka sprang away
from Olénin and in doing so her thigh struck his leg.
“It’s all nonsense what I have been thinking about—love and
self-sacrifice and Lukáshka. Happiness is the one thing. He who is
happy is right,” flashed through Olénin’s mind, and with a strength
unexpected to himself he seized and kissed the beautiful Maryánka on
her temple and her cheek. Maryánka was not angry, but only burst into a
loud laugh and ran out to the other girls.
That was the end of the party. Ústenka’s mother, returned from her
work, gave all the girls a scolding, and turned them all out.