entertainments; but, when he ceased to feel anxious about his wife's
health, and saw her surrounded by troops of attentive friends, he began
by degrees to find some time on his hands. Country life and country air,
with the beauty of that landscape, roused in him a desire for his old
amusements. He made fishing-lines and began to angle for the wily trout
in the clear mountain streams round Alkino; and he went out sometimes to
catch quails with a net. Theodore, Parasha's young husband, was a
capital hand at this sport and could make pipes to decoy the birds. With
sportsmen in general, netting for quails does not rank high; but really
I do not know why they despise it. To lie on the fragrant meadow grass
with your net hanging in front of you on the tall stalks; to hear the
quails calling beside you and at a distance; to imitate their low, sweet
note on the pipe; to hear the excited birds reply and watch them run, or
even fly, from all sides towards you; to watch their curious antics, and
to get excited yourself over the success or failure of your
strategy--all this gave me much pleasure at one time, and even now I
cannot recall it with indifference. But it was impossible to make this
pleasure intelligible to Sofya Nikolayevna.
In two months she was well on the way to recovery: her face filled out,
and a bright colour began to play again upon her cheeks. When Avenarius
paid a third visit, he was entirely satisfied; and he had a perfect
right to triumph; for he was the first to prescribe _koumiss_ and
directed the treatment himself. He had always been attached to his
patient; and now that he had succeeded in saving her life, he loved her
like a daughter.
Alexyei Stepanitch sent a weekly bulletin to his father at Bagrovo.
Stepan Mihailovitch was glad to hear that his daughter-in-law was
getting better; but of course he disbelieved in the healing power of the
_koumiss_, and was very angry about the riding, which they were rash
enough to mention in writing to him. His wife and daughters made use of
this opportunity, and the sneering remarks, which they let fall on
purpose in the course of conversation, worked him up to such a pitch
that he wrote his son a rather offensive letter which gave pain to Sofya
Nikolayevna. But, when he was convinced that his daughter-in-law had
quite recovered and had even grown stout, pleasing hopes began to stir
again in his breast, and he grew reconciled in some degree to the
_koumiss_ and the riding.
The young Bagroffs returned to Ufa at the beginning of autumn. Old M.
Zubin was very far gone by that time, and his daughter's wonderful
recovery produced no sort of impression on him. All his earthly business
was done, and all ties broken; every thread that held him to life was
severed, and the soul could hardly find shelter in the disruption of the
body.
The normal course of relations between the young couple had been, so to
speak, arrested in its development by a number of events: first, by the
birth of the child and the mother's extravagant devotion to it; then, by
the child's death which nearly deprived the mother of her reason and her
life; and, finally, by the long course of treatment and residence in the
Tatar village. In the stormy season of her distress and sickness, Sofya
Nikolayevna had ever before her eyes the genuine love and self-sacrifice
of her husband. At that time there were none of those collisions, which
constantly occur at ordinary times between ill-matched characters; and,
even if there were occasions for such misunderstandings, they passed
unnoticed. When gold is in circulation, small change is of little
importance. In exceptional circumstances and critical moments, nothing
but gold passes; but the daily expenditure of uneventful life is mainly
carried on with small change. Now Alexyei Stepanitch, though he was not
poor in gold, was often hard up for small change. When a man, if he sees
distress and danger threatening the health and life of one whom he
loves, himself suffers in every fibre of his being; when he forgets
sleep and food and himself altogether; when the nerves are strung up and
the moral nature uplifted--at such times there is no room for small
exactions, no room for small services and attentions. But when the time
of tragic events has gone by, everything quiets down again; the nerves
are relaxed and the spirit contracts; the material life of flesh and
blood asserts itself, in all its triviality; habits resume their lost
power; and then comes the turn of those exactions and demands we spoke
of, the turn of small services and polite attentions and all the other
trifles which make up the web of actual ordinary life. Time will again
apply the test and bring back the necessity of self-sacrifice; but
meanwhile life runs on without a stop in the ordinary groove, and its
peace and adornment and pleasure--what we call happiness, in fact--is
made up entirely of trivial things, of small change.
For these reasons, when Sofya Nikolayevna began to recover and Alexyei
Stepanitch ceased to fear for her life and health, there began by
degrees to reappear, on one side, the old exacting temper, and, on the
other side, the old incapacity to satisfy its demands. Gentle reproaches
and expostulations had become tiresome to the husband, and fierce
explosions frightened him. Fear at once banished perfect frankness, and
loss of frankness between husband and wife, especially in the less
assertive and independent of the two, leads straight to the destruction
of domestic happiness. After the return to Ufa, this evil would probably
have grown worse in the trivial, idle atmosphere of town life; but Sofya
Nikolayevna's father was now actually dying, and his sad, suffering
condition banished all other anxieties and monopolised his daughter's;
thoughts and feelings. Obedient to the law of her moral nature, she gave
herself up without reserves to her duty as a daughter. Thus the process
which was unveiling every corner of their domestic life, was again
brought to a standstill. Sofya Nikolayevna spent her days and nights
with her father. Nikolai, as before, waited on his sick master, nursing
him with wonderful devotion and indefatigable care; and, as before, he
kept out of sight of Sofya; Nikolayevna, though he had now the right and
the power to appear before her with impunity. Touched by his behaviour,
she had sent for him; a reconciliation took place, and she gave him
leave to be present with her in the sick-room. The dying man, in spite
of his apparent insensibility to all around him, noticed this change: he
pressed his daughter's hand in his feeble grasp, and said in a hardly
audible whisper, "I thank you." Sofya Nikolayevna never left her father
after this time.
I said that when Stepan Mihailovitch received the good news of his
daughter-in-law's recovery, fond hopes awoke once more in his breast.
They were not disappointed: before long Sofya Nikolayevna wrote to him
herself, that she hoped, if God was good to her, to give birth to a son,
to be the comfort of his old age. At the instant Stepan Mihailovitch was
overjoyed, but he soon controlled his feelings and hid his happiness
from his womankind. Perhaps it occurred to him that this second child
might be a daughter, that Sofya Nikolayevna and the doctors between them
might kill it too with too much love and too much medicine, and that the
mother might lose her health over again; or perhaps Stepan Mihailovitch
was like many other people, who deliberately prophesy calamities with a
secret hope that fortune will reverse their prognostications. He
pretended that he was not in the least glad, and said coolly: "No, no!
I'm too old a bird to look at _that_ chaff. When the thing happens, it
will be time enough to believe it and rejoice over it." His family were
surprised to hear him speak so, and said nothing in reply. But, as a
matter of fact, the old man for some unknown reason became convinced
once more in his heart that he would have a grandson: he gave
instructions again to Father Vassili to repeat in church the prayer for
"women labouring of child"; and he fished out once more the family tree
from its hiding-place, and kept it always beside him.
Meanwhile M. Zubin's last hour on earth came quietly on. He had suffered
much for many years; it seemed hardly natural that life should linger on
in a body which had lost all force and motion; and the ending of such a
bare and pitiful existence could distress no one. Even Sofya Nikolayevna
had only one prayer--that her father's soul might depart in peace. And
there _was_ peace, and even happiness, at the moment of death. The face
of the dying man lit up suddenly, and this expression remained long upon
the features, though the eyes were shut and the body had grown cold. The
funeral was a solemn and splendid ceremony. M. Zubin had once been very
popular; but he had become forgotten by degrees, and sympathy for his
suffering had become gradually weaker. But now, when the news of his
death flew round the town, old memories revived and evoked a fresh
feeling of love and pity for him. On the day of his funeral every house
was empty, and all the population of Ufa lined the streets between the
Church of the Assumption and the cemetery. May he rest in peace! If he
had the weakness of human nature, he had also its goodness.
After M. Zubin's death, guardians were appointed for the children of his
two marriages; and Alexyei Stepanitch became guardian of his wife's two
brothers, who, before finishing their education at the Moscow
boarding-school, were summoned to Petersburg to enter the Guards. I
forgot to mention that M. Zubin, shortly before his death, was
successful in obtaining for Alexyei Stepanitch his promotion to a higher
office at the law-courts.
Sofya Nikolayevna wept and prayed for a long time, and Alexyei
Stepanitch wept and prayed at her side; but those tears and prayers were
not painful or violent and had no ill effect on the recently restored
health of Sofya Nikolayevna. Her husband's entreaties and the advice of
her friends and doctors prevailed with her, and she began to take care
of herself and to pay due attention to her condition. They convinced her
that the health and even the life of the unborn child depended on the
state of her own health and spirits. Their arguments were confirmed by
bitter experience, and she resolutely submitted to all that was required
of her. When her father-in-law wrote to her and expressed in simple
words his sympathy with her loss and his fear that she might again
injure her own health by excess of grief, she sent a very reassuring
letter in reply; and she did in fact attend carefully to her bodily
health and composure of mind. A regular but not monotonous plan of life
was laid down. The two doctors, Klauss--who was becoming very intimate
with the Bagroffs--and Avenarius, made her go out every day before
dinner, and sometimes on foot; and each evening they had an
unceremonious party of pleasant people at home, or went out themselves,
generally to the Chichagoffs' house. Mme. Chichagoff's brothers became
great friends of the Bagroffs, especially the younger, Dmitri, who asked
that, when the time came, he might stand godfather. Both brothers were
well-bred men and well-educated, according to the standards of the time;
and they came often to the house and passed the time there with
pleasure. In the Bagroffs' house, reading aloud was a favourite
occupation. But, as no one can read or listen to reading without
intervals, Sofya Nikolayevna was taught to play cards. Klauss took the
chief part in initiating her into this science; and, whenever the
Bagroffs were alone of an evening, he never failed to make up their
table. Avenarius could not take part in this pastime, because he never
in his life knew the difference between the five and the ace.
Spring set in early that year, but in all its beauty. The ice on the
Byelaya broke up, and the blocks were carried down by the stream; the
river broke its banks and spread till it was six _versts_ across. The
whole of this expanse could be clearly seen from the windows of the
Bagroffs' little house; their orchard burst into leaf and flower, and
the fragrance of bird-cherries and apple-blossom filled the air. They
used this orchard as a drawing-room, and the warm weather did good to
Sofya Nikolayevna and made her stronger.
At this time an event happened at Ufa which caused a great sensation
there and was especially interesting to the young Bagroffs, because the
hero of the story was an intimate friend of theirs, and, if I am not
mistaken, distantly related to Alexyei Stepanitch. Sofya Nikolayevna, as
one would expect from her character, took a lively interest in such a
romantic affair. A young man, named Timasheff, one of the most prominent
and richest nobles of the district, fell in love with a Tatar girl, the
daughter of a rich Tatar landowner. Her family, just like the Alkins,
had altered their way of living to a certain extent in conformity with
European customs, and they spoke Russian well; but they strictly
observed the Moslem faith in all its purity. The beautiful Salme
returned the love of the handsome Russian officer, who was a captain in
the regiment stationed near Ufa. As she could not be married to a
Russian without changing her religion, it was perfectly certain that her
parents and grown-up brothers would never give their consent to such a
union. Salme struggled long against her love, and love burns more
fiercely in the hearts of women of Asia. At last, as is the rule in such
cases, Mahomet was defeated, and Salme made up her mind to elope with
her lover, meaning to be baptised first and then married. The commander
of Timasheff's regiment was General Mansuroff, a universal favourite and
the kindest of men, who gained distinction afterwards when he crossed
"The Devil's Bridge" in the Alps with Suvoroff. He had lately married
for love himself, and he knew and sympathised with Timasheff's
enterprise, and promised to take the lovers under his protection. One
dark, rainy night Salme sallied forth from her father's house, and found
Timasheff waiting for her in a wood close by with a pair of
saddle-horses; they had to gallop about 100 _versts_ to reach Ufa. Salme
was a skilful rider; every ten or fifteen _versts_ they found fresh
horses, guarded by soldiers of Timasheff's regiment; he was very popular
with his men. Thus the fugitives flew along "on the wings of love," as a
poet of that day would infallibly have said. Meanwhile Salme's absence
was quickly noticed: her passion for Timasheff had long been suspected,
and a strict watch was kept over her movements. A band of armed Tatars
assembled instantly, and followed the enraged father[51] and brothers in
furious pursuit of the lovers, uttering fierce shouts and threats of
vengeance. They took the right track and would probably have captured
the fugitives--at any rate blood would have been spilt, because a number
of soldiers, eagerly interested in the affair, were posted at different
points along the road--had not the pursuit been delayed by a stratagem.
The bridge over a deep and dangerous river was broken down behind the
lovers; and the Tatars were forced to swim across, and thus lost some
two hours. Even so, the boat which carried Timasheff and Salme across
the Byelaya under the walls of Ufa, had hardly reached mid-stream, when
the old Tatar galloped up to the bank, attended by his sons and half of
his faithful company; the other half had stopped when their horses fell
dead under them. A whole regiment of Russian soldiers were in possession
of all the punts and ferry-boats, on the pretence of crossing to the
town. The unhappy father gnashed his teeth in fury, cursed his daughter,
and rode off home. Half dead with weariness and fear, Salme was placed
in a carriage and taken to the house of Timasheff's mother. The affair
now assumed a legal and official character: here was a Mahometan woman
asking of her own free will to be received into the Christian Church,
and the authorities of the town took her under their protection,
informed the _mufti_, who lived at Ufa and was always called "the Tatar
bishop," of all that had passed, and called upon him to stop the injured
family or any other Mahometans from all attempts to recover by violence
a person who had deliberately preferred the Christian faith. In a few
days the clergy prepared the convert to receive the sacraments of
baptism and unction. The rite was celebrated with great pomp in the
Cathedral: Salme was christened Seraphima, and immediately afterwards,
without leaving the church, the young lovers were married. All Ufa was
interested in the affair. The young people and all the men naturally
stood up for the beautiful Salme; but the women, some of whom, perhaps,
had personal reasons for disappointment, judged her conduct severely.
Very few stretched out the hand of sincere friendship to the convert,
whom her husband's station admitted to the inner circle of Ufa society.
The young couple had no warmer sympathisers than Sofya Nikolayevna and
Alexyei Stepanitch; and they were actively assisted by the wife of
General Mansuroff, an amiable young woman whose maiden name was
Bulgakoff. Before long the Timasheffs had a firm footing in their new
sphere. The bride's education was taken in hand; she had much natural
ability, and soon became a success in society, where she aroused both
sympathy and envy, due in some degree to her beauty and the peculiarity
of her position. Sofya Nikolayevna kept up a steady friendship with
Seraphima Timasheff till death divided them. To the general regret, Mme.
Timasheff died of consumption three years after her marriage. She left
two sons; her husband nearly went out of his mind with grief; he left
the Army, gave up his life to the care of his children, and never
married again. It was currently reported, though I cannot vouch for the
truth of the reports, that her illness and death were due to secret
pining after the kinsfolk she had abandoned and remorse for her change
of religion.
[51] Another version of the story tells that the mother led the pursuit.
(_Author's note_.)
These events did nothing to arrest the quick flight of time. The day
came when Sofya Nikolayevna was forbidden to go out to parties, or even
to take drives in the country. In fine weather she walked up and down
the garden for half an hour twice a day; if it was wet, she opened all
the doors in the house and followed the same routine under cover. It is
probable that all this seclusion and strict regimen did more harm than
good; yet my opinion is contradicted by the facts, for Sofya Nikolayevna
was in perfect health. Alexyei Stepanitch found it necessary to let the
doctors have their way; for he was constantly receiving instructions
from his father to watch over his wife like the apple of his eye. Her
friends also, and especially the doctors who felt a strong personal
attachment for her, kept such a close watch on Sofya Nikolayevna that
she could neither take a step nor swallow a morsel or drink a drop
without their permission. As Avenarius had to leave the town on some
official business, it fell on Klauss, who was the other leading lady's
doctor at Ufa, to undertake the personal supervision of her health.
Klauss was a German, a very kind man, clever and well-educated, but
singularly grotesque in his appearance. Though he was still of middle
age, he wore a bright yellow wig; and people asked where he could have
got human hair of a colour never beheld on any human head; his eyebrows
also were yellowish, and so were the whites of his small brown eyes; but
his face, which was round and rather small, was as red as burning coal.
His habits in society were very odd: though he liked kissing the hands
of ladies, he would never allow himself to be kissed on the cheek,
maintaining that it was a gross breach of manners on the part of a man
to permit such a greeting. He had a great fondness for small children
which he showed in this way: he took the child on his knees, placed its
hand on the palm of his own left hand and stroked it for hours at a time
with his right hand. His special favourites he constantly addressed as
"Monster!" or "Turk!"--and Sofya Nikolayevna naturally came in for her
share of these endearments.[52]
[52] Klauss became lecturer on midwifery in the Foundling Hospital at
Moscow in 1791, and died in 1821 after the conscientious discharge
of his duties for thirty years. He never left off the yellow wig.
He was an enthusiastic and well-known numismatist. (_Author's
note._)
Owing to his intimacy with the young Bagroffs, Klauss knew all about
Stepan Mihailovitch--his eager desire for a grandson, and the impatience
with which he was awaiting the event. As Klauss wrote Russian well, he
wrote out a forecast, for whose accuracy he vouched, in a distinct
handwriting for the old man's benefit: he foretold that Sofya
Nikolayevna would give birth to a son between the 15th and 22nd of
September. When the forecast was sent to Stepan Mihailovitch, "German
liar!" was his only comment; but in his heart he believed it; for his
excitement and joy could be seen in his face and heard in every word he
spoke. About this time, our old acquaintance, Afrosinya Andreyevna, paid
him a visit at Bagrovo. He let her see more than others of his main
anxiety, that he might have another grand-daughter; and she told him
that, when passing through Moscow, she had gone to Trinity Church there,
to say her prayers to St. Sergius; and there she heard that some
well-known lady, the mother of several daughters, had taken a vow that
if her next child was a boy, it should be christened Serghei; and she
did give birth to a son before the year was out. Stepan Mihailovitch
said nothing at the time; but he wrote a letter himself to his son and
daughter-in-law by the next post, expressing his desire that they should
say prayers in church to St. Sergius the Wonder-worker, and take a vow
to call their child Serghei if it were a boy. In explanation of his wish
he added: "There has never yet been a Serghei in the Bagroff family."
These instructions were carried out to the letter. Sofya Nikolayevna
spared no pains to provide everything that a careful mother could think
of for her expected child; above all, an admirable foster-mother was
found at Kasimofka, one of the villages that had belonged to her father.
Marya Vassilyevna, a peasant woman, had every qualification for her
office that one could wish for; and she was perfectly willing to
undertake the duty, and moved to Ufa in good time, bringing her own
infant with her.
The crisis was now approaching. By this time Sofya Nikolayevna was
forbidden to walk. Catherine Chichagoff was kept to her own house by
ill-health, and no other visitors were admitted. But Mme. Cheprunoff was
constantly with her cousin, never leaving her except to see her own
beloved little boy, Andrusha. Klauss came to breakfast every morning,
and again for tea, which he drank with rum in it, in the evening; then
he played cards with husband and wife; and, as the stakes were too small
to buy cards with, the prudent German procured some used packs which he
brought with him. Reading sometimes took the place of cards, and Klauss
was present on these occasions. Alexyei Stepanitch, who had gained some
experience and skill in the art, was the regular reader; and sometimes
Klauss brought a German book and translated it aloud, which gave
pleasure to his hearers, especially to Sofya Nikolayevna, who wished to
get some knowledge, if only a smattering, of German literature.