three rooms, quite separate from the rest, for their own occupation; and
in a few days her arrangements were so complete that she could receive
her own guests without any disturbance to her father. It was her
intention to arrange as before about the management of the house and the
attendance on her father, and to assign to Nikolai the subordinate part
of carrying out her instructions; but the man had always hated her, and
now felt himself strong enough to declare open war against his young
mistress. While attending to the father more zealously than ever, he
contrived with extraordinary cunning to insult the daughter at every
turn; and to Alexyei Stepanitch he was so insolent that the young man
lost patience, in spite of his easy and unexacting temper, and told his
wife that he could not possibly put up with the position. For some time
Sofya Nikolayevna did not trouble her father, hoping by her own
influence to keep Nikolai within the bounds of reasonable politeness;
she relied upon his intelligence, and also believed that he knew her
determined character and would not venture to drive her to extremities.
But the malicious Asiatic--this was the servants' name for him--was
convinced beforehand that he would conquer, and tried to provoke Sofya
Nikolayevna into some passionate outburst. Long ago he had been able to
instill into his master the belief that the young lady could not endure
her father's faithful servant and would certainly try to turn him out of
the house. The invalid was horrified by this prospect, and solemnly
declared that he would prefer death to such a deprivation. Sofya
Nikolayevna tried to hint to her father in very gentle and affectionate
terms that Nikolai forgot himself in his behaviour to her husband and
neglected to carry out her orders; it seemed to be his intention to
provoke her to anger. But her father became agitated and refused to
listen: he said that he was perfectly satisfied with Nikolai, and begged
her not to trouble the butler but to give her orders to some other
servant. Young and impulsive, and accustomed to undisputed authority in
her father's house, Sofya Nikolayevna found it hard to endure the
insulting behaviour of an unworthy menial; yet her love for her father,
and her desire to nurse and comfort him and alleviate his sufferings as
far as possible, kept her for long from the idea of leaving him in that
dying state to depend entirely upon such a wretch as Nikolai and other
servants. She controlled her impulsiveness and injured pride; she gave
her household orders through one of the other servants, knowing all the
time that all her instructions were altered by her enemy at his will and
pleasure. She induced her father to order that Nikolai should not enter
the sick-room while she was sitting there. But this arrangement soon
broke down: under various pretexts, the man constantly came into the
room; and indeed the invalid himself constantly asked for him. This
painful situation continued for several months.
Sofya Nikolayevna arranged her engagements in the town in accordance
with her own wishes. The people whom she liked she often met, either in
their houses or her own; the rest she seldom saw, and was content to
exchange formal calls with them. Her husband was acquainted already with
everybody in the town; but his wife's intimate friends now became
intimate with him. He became popular with them and got on very well in
his new position--I mean, in the select society that gathered round his
wife.
Meanwhile, soon after her return to Ufa, Sofya Nikolayevna began to feel
unpleasant symptoms of a peculiar kind, which gave great satisfaction to
Stepan Mihailovitch when he heard of them. The continuation of his
ancient line, the descendants of the great Shimon, was a constant theme
of the old man's thoughts and wishes; it troubled his peace of mind and
stuck in his head like a nail. On receiving the good news from his son,
Stepan Mihailovitch was full of happy hopes and convinced that the child
would infallibly be a boy. His family always said that his spirits were
unusually high at this time. He had prayers said in church for his
daughter-in-law's health, forgave certain sums owed him by neighbours or
dependants, asked every one to congratulate him, and made them drink
till they were dizzy.
In his excitement and joy, it occurred to him suddenly to bestow a mark
of his favour upon Aksyutka, the maid who poured out tea and coffee, to
whom he always showed an unaccountable partiality. Aksyutka was a
peasant's daughter who had lost both parents and was brought to the
house at Bagrovo when she was seven years old, merely to save her from
starvation. She was exceedingly ugly--red-haired and freckled, with eyes
of no colour in particular; she was also bad-tempered and a horrible
sloven. This does not sound attractive; but Stepan Mihailovitch took a
great fancy to her, and never did dinner pass without his giving or
sending to the child something taken from the dishes at table. When she
grew up, he made her pour out his tea in the morning and talked to her
for hours at a time. She was now a good deal over thirty. One morning,
soon after the good news came from Ufa, Stepan Mihailovitch said to her:
"What makes you go about looking like a scarecrow? Be off, you stupid
creature, and put on your best clothes that you wear on holidays. I mean
to find you a husband." Aksyutka grinned: she thought her master was not
serious, and answered: "Why, who would marry an orphan like me, except
perhaps Kirsanka, the shepherd?" (Kirsanka, as every one knew, was
deformed and idiotic.) Stepan Mihailovitch seemed vexed; he went on, "If
I arrange the marriage, you can have your pick of the young men. Go and
dress yourself, and come back at once." Aksyutka went out surprised and
delighted; and Stepan Mihailovitch summoned Little Ivan to his presence.
We have heard something of this man already; he was now twenty-four
years old, with a complexion of lilies and roses, a very fine young
fellow, both tall and stout. At the time of Pugatchoff's revolt, when
the master himself took refuge with his family at Astrakhan, Ivan's
father had been left in charge of the serfs at Bagrovo; and it was
generally supposed that his death was due to overwork and anxiety at
that time. He left two sons, both called Ivan, and this one was known as
Little Ivan, to distinguish him from his elder brother, who inherited
his father's nickname of Weasel. Little Ivan appeared before his master,
"like a leaf before the grass."[47] Stepan Mihailovitch looked at him
with admiration, and then said in a voice so kind that the lad's heart
leaped for joy, "Ivan, I mean to give you a wife." "Your will is law,
_batyushka_ Stepan Mihailovitch," answered the man, devoted body and
soul to his master. "Well, go and dress yourself in your best, and come
back to me in less than no time." Ivan flew off to do his master's
bidding. Aksyutka was the first to reappear; she had smoothed her red
hair and greased it with oil, and put on her smartest jacket and skirt,
and her bare feet were hidden in shoes; but alas! she was no more
beautiful than before. She was much excited, and her mouth was
constantly expanding into a broad grin, which she tried to hide with her
hand, because she felt ashamed of it. Stepan Mihailovitch laughed: "Oh,
she's willing enough to take a husband," he said. Back flew Ivan; but
the sight of Aksyutka's ugly face and fine dress sent a cold shiver down
his back. "There is your bride," said Stepan Mihailovitch; "she is a
good servant to me as your father was once. You may both count on my
protection." His wife now came in, and he turned to her and said:
"Arisha, the bride's clothes are all to be made out of our stuff; I
shall give her a cow and provide everything to eat and drink at the
wedding." No one raised any objections, and the marriage took place.
Aksyutka was charmed with her handsome husband, but he detested his
repulsive wife, who was ten years older than him to boot. She was
jealous of him all day long, and not without reason; and he beat her all
day long, with some excuse on his side also; for nothing but the
stick--and not even that for long--could shut her mouth and keep her
wicked tongue from wagging. It was a pity, a great pity: Stepan
Mihailovitch did a wrong thing when he made others sad because he was
happy.
[47] _I.e._ "instantly," though why the phrase means this I cannot
discover. In Russian fairy-tales, a witch regularly summons any one
she wants with the words, "Stand thou before me, like a leaf before
the grass!"
Of his happiness I judge partly by tradition but more from a letter
which he wrote to Sofya Nikolayevna and which I have seen myself. We
have seen that he was capable of strong and deep affection; yet it is
hard to believe that a man with so little refinement of manner could
give verbal expression to such tender and delicate solicitude as
breathed through the whole of this letter. He begged her and commanded
her to be careful of her health, and sent her much advice on the
subject. Unfortunately, I can only remember a few words of it: "If you
were living in my house"--this was one thing the old man said--"I would
not suffer the wind to blow on you or a grain of dust to settle on your
skin."
Sofya Nikolayevna was able to appreciate this affection, though she
understood that half of it was intended for the expected heir; and she
promised to carry out scrupulously his wishes and instructions. But it
was hard for her to keep this promise. She was one of those women who
pay for the joy of motherhood by a constant discomfort which is more
painful and distressing than any real illness; and she suffered in mind
also, because her relations with her father became daily more
humiliating and the insolence of Nikolai more unbearable. Alexyei
Stepanitch, who saw no danger in his wife's constant sufferings, and was
told that the symptoms were quite natural and would soon pass away,
though he was sorry for his wife, was not excessively put out; and this
was another cause of distress to Sofya Nikolayevna. He worked hard at
his duties in the law-court, hoping soon to be promoted. He had become
accustomed to living with his father-in-law; he avoided for the present
all contact with Nikolai, and looked forward without impatience to a
change in their position. His wife did not like this either. Things
dragged on like this, as I have said already, for several months, and it
was not a happy time for any of them.
But Nikolai was not satisfied with this state of things: he desired a
final solution. Seeing that Sofya Nikolayevna was controlling her quick
temper and righteous indignation, he determined to force her hand. It
was necessary for his purpose that she should lose patience and complain
to her father; and he warned the invalid more than once that he was
constantly expecting Sofya Nikolayevna to complain of him and demand his
instant dismissal. He did not wait for any pretext or opportunity. One
day, in the presence of other servants, when his young mistress was
standing close to him at the open door of the next room, he began,
speaking loud and looking straight at her, to use such offensive
language of herself and her husband that Sofya Nikolayevna was struck
dumb for a moment by his insolence. But she recovered immediately, and
without a word to him rushed to her father's room, where, choking with
wrath and excitement, she repeated the insulting words which had been
said almost to her face by his favourite. Nikolai came in at her heels
and would not let her finish her story. Feigning tears and crossing
himself, he solemnly swore, that it was mere slander, that he had never
said anything of the sort, and that it was wicked of Sofya Nikolayevna
to ruin an innocent man! "You hear what he says, Sonitchka," said the
invalid in a peevish voice. This was too much for Sofya Nikolayevna:
stung to the quick, she forgot her magnanimous self-restraint and forgot
also that she might kill her father with fright. She raised her voice
with such effect that the favourite was forced to leave the room. Then
she said to her father: "After this insult I cannot live under the same
roof with Nikolai: you must choose which of us is to go, he or I!"--and
then she rushed wildly from the room. The old man had a seizure, and
Nikolai hastened to his aid. The usual remedies were applied with
success, and then master and man had a long conversation, after which
Sofya Nikolayevna was summoned to the room. "Sonitchka," he said, with
all the firmness and calmness he could muster, "my weak and suffering
state makes it impossible for me to part with Nikolai; my life depends
on him. You must buy another house; here is money for the purpose."
Sofya Nikolayevna fell fainting to the ground and was carried back to
her own room.
To this had come the tender tie of affection between parent and child, a
tie which should surely have been made doubly strong by the temporary
coolness due to the stepmother, and then by the father's penitence and
the daughter's devotion and forgetfulness of all her wrongs. And then,
when she married, she had chosen her husband with this in view, and had
stipulated that she should not be parted from her father! And now they
were to part at a time when the doctors declared he would not live
another month! But in this forecast the doctors were mistaken, just as
they often are nowadays: he lived on for more than a year.
When Sofya Nikolayevna recovered from her swoon and her eyes fell on the
pale anxious face of Alexyei Stepanitch, she realised that there was one
creature on earth who loved her: she threw her arms round her husband,
and floods of tears gave relief to her heart. She told him all that had
passed between her and her father. The narrative revived the smart of
her wounded feelings, and brought out more clearly the difficulty of her
position; and she would have despaired, but for the support of her kind
husband. Though weaker in character and less far-sighted than she was,
he never ran into extremes and never lost presence of mind and power of
judgment in the trying hours of life. It may seem strange that Alexyei
Stepanitch could give moral support to Sofya Nikolayevna; but, for all
her exceptional intelligence and apparent strength of will, the effect
of a sudden shock to her feelings was to make her lose courage and
become utterly bewildered. As an honest chronicler of oral tradition, I
am bound to add that she was too sensitive to the opinion of society and
paid it too much deference, in spite of her own superiority to the
people among whom she lived. What would be said by people at Ufa, and
especially by the ladies who took the lead in society there? What would
be thought by her husband's family? What, above all, would be said by
Stepan Mihailovitch when he heard that she had left her father? As she
asked herself these questions, the injury to her pride gave her as much
pain as the wound to her feelings as a daughter. To her it seemed
equally terrible that her father should be blamed for ingratitude to his
daughter, or that she should be blamed for failing in affection to a
dying father. One or other alternative was bound to be chosen; and
either he or she was bound to be condemned.
Alexyei Stepanitch felt deep pity for her as he watched these
sufferings, and he felt puzzled also. It was no easy task to administer
consolation to Sofya Nikolayevna: her eager fancy painted appalling
pictures of disaster, and her ready tongue gave them lively expression.
She was prepared to brush aside every attempt to find an issue from the
situation, and to trample on every suggestion of a settlement. But
Alexyei Stepanitch had love to teach him, and also that sanity and
simplicity of mind which was wanting in his wife. He waited till the
first irrepressible outburst was over, the first outcry of the wounded
heart; and then he began to speak. The words were very ordinary, but
they came from a kind, simple heart; and if they did not calm Sofya
Nikolayevna, they did at least by degrees make it possible for her to
understand what was said. He told her that she had always done her duty
as a loving daughter, and that she must continue to do it by falling in
with her father's wishes. It was probably no sudden decision: her father
might have wished for a long time that they should live apart. For a
sick and dying man it was difficult or even impossible to part from the
regular attendant who nursed him so faithfully. Stepan Mihailovitch must
be told the whole truth; but to acquaintances it would be enough to say
that her father had always intended to set up the young couple in a
house of their own during his lifetime. She would be able to visit her
father twice a day and attend to him almost as much as before. Of course
people in the town would find out in time the real reason of the
separation--they had probably some idea already of the facts--but they
would only pity her and abuse Nikolai. "Besides," he added, "though your
father talked like that, when it comes to acting, he may shrink from the
separation. Talk it over with him, and lay all your case before him."
Sofya Nikolayevna made no reply: during a long silence her eyes rested
with a curious, puzzled gaze on her husband. The truth of his simple
words and his plain way of looking at things--these breathed peace and
comfort into her heart. His plan seemed to her new and ingenious, and
she wondered she had never thought of it herself. With a heart full of
love and gratitude she embraced her husband.
So it was settled that Sofya Nikolayevna should appeal to her father to
alter his decision and let them stay on in the house, at all events
until she had entirely recovered from her confinement; their household
arrangements would be quite separate, and all collisions with Nikolai
would be avoided. In favour of this suggestion, there was one very
pressing argument--that, while it was bad for Sofya Nikolayevna in her
present condition to be jolted over the ill-paved streets of the town,
no risk to herself would prevent her from paying a daily visit to her
father. But the explanation with her father was unsuccessful. The old
man told her calmly but firmly that his decision had been carefully
considered and was no impulse of the moment. "My dear Sonitchka," he
said, "I knew beforehand that after your marriage you could not live
under the same roof as Nikolai. You are not able to judge him coolly,
and I don't blame you for it: he sinned deeply against you in old days,
and, though you forgave him, you were unable to forget his conduct. I
know that he does not behave properly to you even now; but you take an
exaggerated view of it all." At this point Sofya Nikolayevna tried to
break in, but he stopped her and said: "Wait and hear to the end what I
have to say. Let us suppose that he is as guilty as you take him to be:
that makes it all the more impossible for you to live in the same house
with him; but I cannot face parting from him. Have pity on my helpless
and suffering condition. I am no longer a man, but a lifeless corpse;
you know that Nikolai has to move me in bed ten times a day; no one can
take his place. All I ask is peace of mind. Death is hovering over me,
and every moment I must prepare for the change to eternity. I was
constantly made wretched by the thought that Nikolai was giving offence
to you. Our parting is inevitable; go, my dear, and live in a house of
your own. When you come to visit me you shall not see the object of your
dislike: he will be only too glad to keep out of the way. He has gained
his object and got you out of the house, and now he will be able to rob
me at his leisure. I know and see it all, but I forgive him everything
for his unwearied nursing of me day and night. What he undergoes in his
attendance on me is beyond the power of human endurance. Do not distress
me, but take the money and buy a house for yourselves."
I shall not describe all the phases through which Sofya Nikolayevna
passed--her doubts and hesitations, her mental conflicts, her tears and
sufferings, her ups and downs of feeling from day to day. It is enough
to say that the money was accepted and the house bought, and husband and
wife were settled there before a fortnight had passed. The little house
was new and clean, and had never been occupied before. Sofya Nikolayevna
began with her usual ardour to put her house in order and to settle the
course of their daily life; but her health, much affected by her
condition, and still more by all the agitation she had gone through,
soon broke down altogether. She was confined to bed for a fortnight, and
did not see her father for a whole month. Their first interview was a
touching and pitiful sight. He had grown much weaker; missing his
daughter and blaming himself for her illness, he had suffered much by
her absence. Their meeting gave happiness to both, but it cost them
tears. He was especially grieved to see her so terribly thin and so
altered in looks; but this was due, not so much to grief and illness as
to her condition. The features of some women look different and even
ugly during pregnancy; and Sofya Nikolayevna was a case in point. In
course of time things settled down and her relations with her father
became easy; Nikolai never ventured to appear when she was present.
There was just one person who could not reconcile himself to the thought
that she had left a dying father to settle in a house of her own; and
that was Stepan Mihailovitch. She quite anticipated this, and wrote him
a very frank letter just before she was taken ill, in which she tried to
explain her father's action and defend it as far as possible. She might
have saved herself the trouble, for Stepan Mihailovitch blamed her and
not her father, and said that it was her duty to bear without a sign of
displeasure all the misconduct of "that scoundrel" Nikolai. He wrote to
his son to reprove him for allowing his wife to abandon her father to
the hands of servants. But Stepan Mihailovitch did not realise, either
that the separation was necessary to preserve the peace of a dying man,
or that a wife could act without the permission of her husband. In the
present case, however, husband and wife were entirely of one mind.
To put the finishing touches to the new house and modest household
arrangements, Sofya Nikolayevna called in the assistance of a widow whom
she knew, who lived in a humble position at Ufa. This was Mme.
Cheprunoff, a very simple and kind-hearted creature. She owned a little
house in the suburbs, and a small but productive garden, which brought
her in a trifle. She had other means of maintaining herself and her
adored only child, a little one-eyed boy called Andrusha: she hawked
about small wares of different kinds, and even sold cakes in the market.
But her chief source of income was the sale of Bokhara muslin, which she
went to Orenburg every year to buy. Sofya Nikolayevna was related
through her mother to this woman; but she had the weakness to conceal
the relationship, though every one in the town knew it. Mme. Cheprunoff
was devoted to her brilliant and distinguished kinswoman. She used to
pay secret visits to Sofya Nikolayevna during the time when she was
persecuted and humiliated by her stepmother; and Sofya Nikolayevna, when
her time of triumph and influence came, became the avowed benefactress
of Mme. Cheprunoff. When they were alone together, Sofya Nikolayevna
lavished caresses upon her unselfish and devoted kinswoman; but, when
other people were present, the one was the great lady and the other the
poor _protegee_ who sold cakes in the streets. This treatment did not
offend Mme. Cheprunoff: on the contrary, she insisted on it. She loved
and admired her beautiful cousin with all her heart, and looked on her
as a superior being, and would never have forgiven herself if she had
thrown a shadow on the brilliant position of Sofya Nikolayevna. The
secret was revealed, as it had to be, to Alexyei Stepanitch; and he, in
spite of the ancient lineage which his sisters were always dinning into
his ears, received this humble friend as his wife's worthy kinswoman,
and treated her with affection and respect all his life; he even tried
to kiss the work-worn hand of the cake-seller, but she would never allow
it. He was only prevented by his wife's earnest entreaties from speaking
of this relationship in his own family and in the circle of their
acquaintance. This conduct earned him the love of the simple-minded
woman; and whenever there were differences in the household in later
years, she was his ardent champion and defender. She knew all the shops
and was a great hand at a bargain; and so, with her help, Sofya
Nikolayevna did her furnishing quickly and well.
When the young Bagroffs bought a house and started housekeeping by
themselves, there was much talk and gossip in the town; and at first
many exaggerations and inventions were current. But Alexyei Stepanitch
had spoken the truth: the real reason came out before long. This was due
chiefly to Nikolai, who boasted among his friends that he had ousted the
pettish young lady, and took the opportunity to give a lively
description of her character. So the talk and gossip soon quieted down.