they had seen there, the health of M. Zubin, and so on. They praised
everything, but the poison under their praises could be smelt and
tasted, and they failed to deceive their father. By way of a joke, and
perhaps also for the sake of comparison, he turned to Karatayeff and
said: "Well, now, friend Ivan, what say you of the daughter-in-law? As a
man, you are a better judge of the point than the women are."
Karatayeff, disregarding a signal from his wife, burst out with
enthusiasm: "I do assure you, _batyushka_, that such another
dazzler"--he always used this phrase of a beautiful woman--"as brother
Alexyei has bagged is not to be found in the whole world. A look from
her is as good as a shilling. And her cleverness! it's past all telling.
But there's one thing, _batyushka_: she's proud; she can't stand a joke.
When you try to have a little fun with her, she gives you a look that
makes you bite off the end of your tongue." "I see, my friend, that she
made short work with your nonsense," said the old man with an amused
look; then he laughed and added, "Not much amiss there, so far." In
fact, Stepan Mihailovitch, from what he had heard and the bride's
letters and Karatayeff's description, had formed in his own mind a
highly favourable opinion of Sofya Nikolayevna.
The expected visit of the young couple produced bustle and confusion in
the quiet or, one might say, stagnant waters of life at Bagrovo. They
had to bestir themselves, to clean things up, and bring out their best
clothes. The bride was a fine town lady, poor, perhaps, but accustomed
to live in luxury; she would be critical and contemptuous--so they all
thought, and so they all said, except the master of the house. As there
were no separate rooms in the house unoccupied, Tanyusha had to turn out
of her bedroom, one corner of which overlooked the garden and the clear
waters of the Boogoorooslan with its green bushes and loud nightingales.
Tanyusha was very unwilling to move to the bath-house, but there was no
other place: all her sisters were put up in the house, and Karatayeff
and Yerlykin slept in the hayloft. The day before the visitors' arrival
brought their state-bed and bed-hangings and curtains for the windows,
and with them a man who knew how to put everything up properly.
Tanyusha's room was completely furnished in a few hours. Stepan
Mihailovitch came to see it and expressed his admiration, but the women
bit their lips with envy. At last a messenger galloped up and announced
that the couple had stopped at the village of Noikino, eight _versts_
from Bagrovo; they were to change their dress there and would arrive in
two hours. This caused a general stir. The priest had been summoned
hours before; but, as he had not yet arrived, Stepan Mihailovitch sent a
mounted messenger to hasten his steps.
Meantime the following scene was taking place in the Mordvinian village
of Noikino. The travellers were making their way along side roads and
had always to send a man ahead to arrange about fresh horses. The people
of Noikino had all known Alexyei Stepanitch from childhood, and had a
great regard and respect for his father. Every one of the six hundred
inhabitants of the village, men and women, old and young, gathered
before the cottage where the young people were to make their halt. Sofya
Nikolayevna had probably never seen people of this tribe close at hand;
and therefore the dress of the women and the uncommonly tall stout
girls--their white shifts embroidered with red wool, their black woollen
girdles, and the silver coins and little bells which hung from their
heads over their breasts and backs--was very interesting to her. But,
when she heard them all break out into joyful greetings and compliments
and good wishes, childish enough and expressed in bad Russian, but
coming from the heart, then she both laughed and cried. "What a fine
wife God has given you, Alosha! How glad our father Stepan Mihailovitch
will be! Good luck! Good luck!" But, when the bride, arrayed in her fine
city clothes, came out to take her seat in the carriage, there was such
a roar of enthusiastic applause that the horses actually shied. The
travellers made a present of ten _roubles_, to be spent on whisky, to
the whole village, and went on their way.
The stackyard at Bagrovo was at the top of a hill, and now the high
carriage was seen emerging from behind it. The cry, "They're coming!
they're coming!" flew from room to room, and house-servants and
labourers soon gathered in the large courtyard, while the young people
and children ran to meet the carriage. The master and mistress, attended
by all their family, came out upon the steps. Arina Vassilyevna wore a
silk jacket and skirt and a silk handkerchief adorned with gold sprigs
upon her head; Stepan Mihailovitch was clean-shaved and wore an
old-fashioned frock-coat and a stock round his neck. Husband and wife
stood on the top step; and he held in his hands an ikon representing the
Presentation of the Virgin, while she carried a loaf of bread and a
silver salt-cellar. Their daughters and two sons-in-law were grouped
round them. The carriage drove up to the steps. The young couple got
out, knelt down before the old people, and received their blessing; then
they exchanged embraces with each member of the family. Hardly had the
bride completed this ceremony and turned again towards her
father-in-law, when he caught her by the hand and looked keenly at her
eyes from which the tears were falling. His own eyes grew wet; he
clasped her in a tight embrace, kissed her, and said, "I thank God. Let
us go and thank Him together!" He took her by the hand and led her
through the crowd of people into the parlour. There he made her sit near
him; and the priest, who was waiting for them with his robes on,
pronounced the solemn words--
"We praise thee, O God: we acknowledge thee to be the Lord."
FRAGMENT IV: THE YOUNG COUPLE AT BAGROVO
Stepan Mihailovitch joined fervently in the prayers, and so did his
daughter-in-law. When the service was over, all kissed the Cross, and
the priest sprinkled the young pair and the rest of the company with
holy water. Then the kissing and embracing began over again, with the
phrases customary on such occasions--"We beg that you will regard us as
relations and love us," and so on--said of course by those to whom the
bride was still a stranger. Stepan Mihailovitch said nothing: he only
looked affectionately at the tearful eyes and flaming cheeks of Sofya
Nikolayevna, listened attentively to every word she spoke, and noted her
every movement. Then he took her by the hand and led her to the
drawing-room, where he sat down on the sofa and made the pair sit near
him. Arina Vassilyevna seated herself next to her son at the other end
of the sofa, while her daughters with their husbands sat round the
central group. It should be said that Stepan Mihailovitch never sat in
the drawing-room: he entered it very seldom and never stayed long. There
were only two parts of the house which he used--his own room, and the
outside stoop, a very simple contrivance of beams and boards; there he
was thoroughly at home, but in the drawing-room he was never quite at
his ease. For once he put constraint upon himself and carried on a
friendly conversation with his daughter-in-law. He began by asking about
her father's health, and expressed sincere regret on hearing that he
grew weaker daily: "In that case, my dear," he said, "I must not keep
you too long at Bagrovo." It need not be said that the bride was at no
loss for words: she was not merely polite, but cordial and eager to make
a good impression. Arina Vassilyevna, naturally a very simple woman,
took her tone from her husband, as far as her intelligence and her dread
of disobeying her daughters would let her. She was friendly to her son's
wife and had taken a real liking to her at first sight; but the others
were silent, and it was not hard to guess their feelings from their
faces. After half an hour the bride whispered to her husband, who rose
at once and went to the bedroom which had been specially prepared for
them, near the drawing-room. Stepan Mihailovitch looked on with
surprise; but the bride's lively talk engaged his attention, and he was
so much interested by it that he was startled when presently the folding
doors of the bedroom opened and his son came in, holding a large silver
salver so loaded with presents for the family that it actually bent
under their weight. Sofya Nikolayevna sprang to her feet; she took from
the salver and presented to her father-in-law a piece of fine English
broadcloth, and a waistcoat of watered silk, richly laced with gold
thread and embroidered all over with spangles; and she told him quite
truly that she had worked it all with her own hands. Stepan Mihailovitch
looked uneasily at his son standing with the salver in his arms, but he
accepted the presents graciously and kissed his daughter-in-law. Next,
Arina Vassilyevna was presented with a silk handkerchief covered with
gold embroidery, to wear over her head, and a complete length of
excellent China silk, which even then was considered a rarity; each
sister-in-law received a piece of costly silk, and each of their
husbands a piece of English broadcloth; but these presents were
naturally rather less valuable. All got up, kissed the hands of the
donor, and bowed their thanks. Meanwhile the door leading to the parlour
was cracking with the pressure of curious spectators of both sexes, and
the well-oiled heads of the maids kept peeping timidly out of the
bedroom door, which they had to themselves, because none of the outdoor
servants dared to enter the elegant apartment of the young couple. In
the parlour there was a great noise; for the menservants were prevented
by the intruders from laying the table, and were unable to turn them
out. Stepan Mihailovitch guessed what was going on; he got up and
glanced through the door; one look and one quiet word was enough: "Off,"
he said, and the parlour was empty in a moment.
The dinner passed off in the usual fashion. The young pair sat side by
side between the old couple; there were a great many courses, one richer
and more indigestible than another; the cook Stepan had been lavish with
his spice, cloves, and pepper, and especially with his butter. The bride
ate the dainties pressed upon her by Stepan Mihailovitch, and prayed
that she might not die in the night. There was little talking, partly
because every mouth was otherwise occupied, and also because the party
were not good at conversation. Indeed they were all uncomfortable in
their own ways. Yerlykin in his sober intervals drank nothing but water,
and hardly spoke at all at such times, which gained him a reputation for
exceptional intelligence; and Karatayeff dared not open his mouth in the
presence of Stepan Mihailovitch except to answer a question, and went no
further than repeating the last words of other people's remarks. If they
said: "The hay crop will be good, if we get no rain," or "The rye made a
good start till that sudden frost came"--Karatayeff came in like an
echo, "if we get no rain," "till the frost came"; and his repetitions
were sometimes ill-timed. As the hosts had not thought of procuring
sparkling wine from Ufa, the health of the bride and bridegroom was
drunk in strawberry wine, three years old and as thick as oil, which
diffused about the room the delicious perfume of the wild strawberry.
Mazan, with long boots smelling of tar on his feet, and wearing a long
coat which made him look like a bear dressed up in sacking, handed round
the loving-cup; it was ornamented with a white pattern and had a
dark-blue spiral inside its glass stalk. When the young pair had to
return thanks, Sofya Nikolayevna was not much pleased to drink from the
cup which had just left Karatayeff's greasy lips; but she made no wry
faces. Indeed she was intending to drain the cup, when her father-in-law
stopped her: "Don't drink it all, my dear," he said; "the liquor is good
and sweet but strong; you are not accustomed to it, and your little head
would ache." She declared that such a noble drink could not hurt her,
and begged to be allowed a little more, till Stepan Mihailovitch allowed
her one sip from the cup which he held in his hands.
It was clear to all the family that the old man was pleased with his
daughter-in-law and liked all that she said. And she could see this
herself, though she had been surprised twice over by a shadow of
displeasure passing over his face. But more than once during the meal
she had encountered his expressive look, as his eyes rested with
satisfaction on her. At last the long and solemn dinner came to an end.
Sofya Nikolayevna, unlike the rest, had found this rustic feast very
wearisome, but she had done her best to enliven it by cheerful
conversation. When they rose from table, his son and daughters kissed
their father's hand, and Sofya Nikolayevna tried to do so too, but the
old man embraced and kissed her instead. It was the second time this had
happened, and Sofya Nikolayevna, with her natural impulsiveness, asked
him in a lively affectionate tone: "Why do you not give me your hand,
_batyushka_? I am your daughter too, and I wish to kiss your hand out of
love and respect, like the rest." The old man looked at her keenly and
attentively; then he said in a kind voice: "I love you, my dear, but I
am not a priest,[42] and no one kisses my hand except my own children."
[42] Devout Russians kiss a priest's hand.
The party went back to the drawing-room and sat down where they were
before. The maid Aksyutka brought in coffee, which was only served on
very solemn occasions; the old man did not drink it, but all his family
were very fond of it; they always called it "coff," never "coffee." When
it was swallowed, Stepan Mihailovitch rose and said: "Now it is time to
have a good sleep, and the young people too would be none the worse of a
rest after their journey"; then he went off to his own room, escorted by
his son and daughter-in-law. "This is my den, my dear," said the old man
cheerfully; "sit down and be my guest. As your husband knows, it was an
exception for me to sit in the drawing-room with you all, with this
bearing-rein on, as well," and he pointed to his stock: "and in future,
if any one wants my society, I shall welcome them here." Then he kissed
her, gave his hand to his son to kiss, and let them go. When alone, he
undressed and lay down, to rest from the unusual bodily exertions and
mental excitement of the day. He was soon sound asleep; and his powerful
snoring echoed through the house and swayed to and fro the curtains
which Mazan had drawn round his old master.
His example was followed by the rest. Yerlykin and Karatayeff went off
to the stable to lie down on the haymow; both their faces showed that
they had done well at dinner, and Karatayeff had also drunk too much.
The daughters assembled in their mother's room which was separate from
their father's; and now began such a debate and discussion, carried on
in whispers, that not one of the party even lay down to sleep that
afternoon. Poor Sofya Nikolayevna was their theme, and her
sisters-in-law simply tore her to pieces; they were enraged beyond all
bounds by their father's evident partiality for her. But there was one
kind heart there--Aksinya, the eldest sister, who was now a widow for
the second time; she stood up for Sofya Nikolayevna and brought down
their wrath on her own head: they turned her out of the room and
banished her for the future from their family councils; and to her old
nickname of "Miss Simplicity," they now added another offensive title
which she still bore in advanced old age. Yet, for all the persecution
of her sisters, her kind heart never swerved from its devotion to her
sister-in-law.
Meanwhile the young pair went off to their own fine bedroom. With the
help of her own maid Parasha, a brisk, black-eyed girl, Sofya
Nikolayevna unpacked the large number of boxes and trunks which the
English coach had brought from Ufa. Parasha was able already to run
through a list of outdoor servants and old people among the peasants who
deserved special notice; and her mistress, who had brought with her a
goodly store of trifles, fixed the present to be given to each, taking
account of their age and services, and the respect which their owners
had for them. The husband and wife were not tired and did not think it
necessary to rest. Sofya Nikolayevna changed into a simpler dress, and
left Parasha to finish the unpacking and arrangement of the bedroom,
while she went out with her young husband, who was very anxious, in
spite of the heat, to show her all his favourite haunts--the beech-wood,
the island with its lime-trees just coming into leaf, and the
transparent waters of the river where it made a bend round the island.
And how delightful it was there at that season, when the freshness of
spring combines with the warmth of summer! Alexyei Stepanitch was
passionately in love with his adored wife, and time had not yet blunted
the edge of his happiness; but he was disconcerted to find that she was
not charmed either by wood or island, and indeed took little notice of
either. She sat down in the shade on the bank of the rapid river, and
began at once to speak to her husband of his relations. She discussed
their reception. "I like your father so much," she went on, "and I could
see at the first glance that he liked me; perhaps your mother liked me,
but she seemed afraid to show it. Aksinya seems the kindest of them, but
she is afraid of something too. Oh, I understand it all perfectly; I
know in what quarter the damp wood is smouldering. I did not miss a
single word or a single glance; I know what I am bound to expect. God
will judge your sisters, Elizabeth and Alexandra!" But Alexyei
Stepanitch was hardly listening to her words. The fresh shade, the green
of the boughs bending over the stream, the low ripple of the running
water, the fish jumping, his adored wife sitting beside him with one arm
round his waist--in such surroundings how was it possible to find fault
or make objections or express discontent? How was it possible even to
take in what was said? And in fact Alexyei Stepanitch did not take in
what his young wife was saying to him: he was so happy that nothing but
silence and oblivion of the world around him could serve as a full
expression of his intoxicating bliss. But Sofya Nikolayevna went on: she
said a great deal, with warmth and feeling; and then she noticed that
her husband was not listening and was nearly asleep. She sprang up at
once, and then followed a scene of conflict and mutual misunderstanding,
more pronounced than any they had ever had before, though there had been
premonitory symptoms once or twice already. Sofya Nikolayevna kept
nothing back this time: the tears rushed from her eyes as she poured
forth a torrent of reproaches for his indifference and inattention.
Alexyei Stepanitch was puzzled and distressed: he felt as if he had
fallen from the skies or awakened from a delightful dream. Thinking to
calm his wife, he assured her with perfect sincerity, that there was
nothing wrong at all, that it was all her imagination, and that all the
family loved her; how could any one help loving her, he asked. That he
was honestly convinced of this was clear as day; and his eyes and face
and voice all expressed his devoted love to his wife; yet Sofya
Nikolayevna, for all her cleverness and lively sensibility, did not
understand her husband, and found in his words only a fresh proof of the
same indifference and inattention. Statements and explanations went on
with increasing heat, and I do not know how far they would have gone;
but suddenly Alexyei Stepanitch caught sight of his sister Tatyana's
maid crossing the high gangway and hastening towards them. He guessed
that they were being searched for because his father had got up, and
told his wife at once what he feared. She regained her self-control in a
moment, caught his arm, and hastened home with him; but he was not in
good spirits as he walked behind her.