The young man whom we have just introduced to our readers was
called Vladimir Nikolaevich Panshine. He occupied a post at St.
Petersburg--one devoted to business of a special character--in the
Ministry of the Interior. He had come to O. about certain affairs of
a temporary nature, and was placed there at the disposal of the
governor, General Zonnenberg, to whom he was distantly related.
Panshine's father, a retired cavalry officer,[A] who used to be well
known among card-players, was a man of a worn face, with weak eyes,
and a nervous contraction about the lips. Throughout his life he
always revolved in a distinguished circle, frequenting the English
Clubs[B] of both capitals, and being generally considered a man
of ability and a pleasant companion, though not a person to be
confidently depended upon. In spite of all his ability, he was almost
always just on the verge of ruin, and he ultimately left but a small
and embarrassed property to his only son. About that son's education,
however, he had, after his own fashion, taken great pains.
[Footnote A: A _Shtabs-Rotmistr_, the second captain in a cavalry
regiment.]
[Footnote B: Fashionable clubs having nothing English about them but
their name.]
The young Vladimir Nikolaevich spoke excellent French, good English,
and bad German. That is just as it should be. Properly brought-up
people should of course be ashamed to speak German really well; but
to throw out a German word now and then, and generally on facetious
topics--that is allowable; "_c'est même très chic_," as the Petersburg
Parisians say. Moreover, by the time Vladimir Nikolaevich was fifteen,
he already knew how to enter any drawing-room whatsoever without
becoming nervous, how to move about it in an agreeable manner, and how
to take his leave exactly at the right moment.
The elder Panshine made a number of useful connections for his son;
while shuffling the cards between two rubbers, or after a lucky "Great
Schlemm,"[A] he never lost the opportunity of saying a word about
his young "Volodka" to some important personage, a lover of games of
skill. On his part, Vladimir Nikolaevich, during the period of his
stay at the university, which he left with the rank of "effective
student,"[B] made acquaintance with several young people of
distinction, and gained access into the best houses. He was cordially
received everywhere, for he was very good looking, easy in manner,
amusing, always in good health, and ready for every thing. Where he
was obliged, he was respectful; where he could, he was overbearing.
Altogether, an excellent companion, _un charmant garçon_. The Promised
Land lay before him. Panshine soon fathomed the secret of worldly
wisdom, and succeeded in inspiring himself with a genuine respect
for its laws. He knew how to invest trifles with a half-ironical
importance, and to behave with the air of one who treats all
serious matters as trifles. He danced admirably; he dressed like an
Englishman. In a short time he had gained the reputation of being one
of the pleasantest and most adroit young men in St. Petersburg.
[Footnote A: "A bumper."]
[Footnote B: A degree a little inferior to that of Bachelor of Arts.]
Panshine really was very adroit--not less so than his father had been.
And besides this, he was endowed with no small talent; nothing was too
difficult for him. He sang pleasantly, drew confidently, could write
poetry, and acted remarkably well.
He was now only in his twenty eighth year, but he was already a
Chamberlain, and he had arrived at a highly respectable rank in the
service. He had thorough confidence in himself, in his intellect,
and in his sagacity. He went onwards under full sail, boldly and
cheerfully; the stream of his life flowed smoothly along. He was
accustomed to please every one, old and young alike; and he imagined
that he thoroughly understood his fellow-creatures, especially
women--that he was intimately acquainted with all their ordinary
weaknesses.
As one who was no stranger to Art, he felt within him a certain
enthusiasm, a glow, a rapture, in consequence of which he claimed for
himself various exemptions from ordinary rules. He led a somewhat
irregular life, he made acquaintance with people who were not received
into society, and in general he behaved in an unconventional and
unceremonious manner. But in his heart of hearts he was cold and
astute; and even in the midst of his most extravagant rioting, his
keen hazel eye watched and took note of every thing. It was impossible
for this daring and unconventional youth ever quite to forget himself,
or to be thoroughly carried away. It should be mentioned to his
credit, by the way, that he never boasted of his victories. To Maria
Dmitrievna's house he had obtained access as soon as he arrived in
O., and he soon made himself thoroughly at home in it. As to Maria
Dmitrievna herself, she thought there was nobody in the world to be
compared with him.
Panshine bowed in an engaging manner to all the occupants of the room;
shook hands with Maria Dmitrievna and Elizaveta Mikhailovna, lightly
tapped Gedeonovsky on the shoulder, and, turning on his heels, took
Lenochka's head between his hands and kissed her on the forehead.
"Are not you afraid to ride such a vicious horse?" asked Maria
Dmitrievna.
"I beg your pardon, it is perfectly quiet. No, but I will tell you
what I really am afraid of. I am afraid of playing at preference with
Sergius Petrovich. Yesterday, at the Bielenitsines', he won all the
money I had with me."
Gedeonovsky laughed a thin and cringing laugh; he wanted to gain the
good graces of the brilliant young official from St. Petersburg, the
governor's favorite. In his conversations with Maria Dmitrievna, he
frequently spoke of Panshine's remarkable faculties. "Why, really now,
how can one help praising him?" he used to reason. "The young man is
a success in the highest circles of society, and at the same time he
does his work in the most perfect manner, and he isn't the least bit
proud." And indeed, even at St. Petersburg, Panshine was looked upon
as an efficient public servant; the work "burnt under his hands;" he
spoke of it jestingly, as a man of the world should, who does not
attach any special importance to his employment; but he was a "doer."
Heads of departments like such subordinates; he himself never doubted
that in time, supposing he really wished it, he would be a Minister.
"You are so good as to say that I won your money," said Gedeonovsky;
"but who won fifteen roubles from me last week? And besides--"
"Ah, rogue, rogue!" interrupted Panshine, in a pleasant tone, but with
an air of indifference bordering on contempt, and then, without paying
him any further attention, he accosted Liza.
"I cannot get the overture to Oberon here," he began. "Madame
Bielenitsine boasted that she had a complete collection of classical
music; but in reality she has nothing but polkas and waltzes. However,
I have already written to Moscow, and you shall have the overture in a
week."
"By the way," he continued, "I wrote a new romance yesterday; the
words are mine as well as the music. Would you like me to sing it to
you? Madame Bielenitsine thought it very pretty, but her judgment is
not worth much. I want to know your opinion of it. But, after all, I
think I had better sing it by-and-by."
"Why by-and-by?" exclaimed Maria Dmitrievna, "why not now?"
"To hear is to obey," answered Panshine, with a sweet and serene
smile, which came and went quickly; and then, having pushed a chair up
to the piano, he sat down, struck a few chords, and began to sing the
following romance, pronouncing the words very distinctly
Amid pale clouds, above the earth,
The moon rides high,
And o'er the sea a magic light
Pours from the sky.
My Spirit's waves, as towards the moon,
Towards thee, love, flow:
Its waters stirred by thee alone
In weal or woe.
My heart replete with love that grieves
But yields no cry,
I suffer--cold as yonder moon
Thou passest by.
Panshine sang the second stanza with more than usual expression and
feeling; in the stormy accompaniment might be heard the rolling of the
waves. After the words, "I suffer!" he breathed a light sigh, and with
downcast eyes let his voice die gradually away. When he had finished;
Liza praised the air, Maria Dmitrievna said, "Charming!" and
Gedeonovsky exclaimed, "Enchanting!--the words and the music are
equally enchanting!" Lenochka kept her eyes fixed on the singer
with childish reverence. In a word, the composition of the young
_dilettante_ delighted all who were in the room. But outside the
drawing-room door, in the vestibule, there stood, looking on the
floor, an old man who had just come into the house, to whom, judging
from the expression of his face and the movements of his shoulders,
Panshine's romance, though really pretty, did not afford much
pleasure. After waiting a little, and having dusted his boots with
a coarse handkerchief, he suddenly squeezed up his eyes, morosely
compressed his lips, gave his already curved back an extra bend, and
slowly entered the drawing-room.
"Ah! Christophor Fedorovich, how do you do?" Panshine was the first to
exclaim, as he jumped up quickly from his chair. "I didn't suspect you
were there. I wouldn't for any thing have ventured to sing my romance
before you. I know you are no admirer of the light style in music."
"I didn't hear it," said the new-comer, in imperfect Russian. Then,
having bowed to all the party, he stood still in an awkward attitude
in the middle of the room.
"I suppose, Monsieur Lemm," said Maria Dmitrievna, "you have come to
give Liza a music lesson."
"No; not Lizaveta Mikhailovna, but Elena Miknailovna."
"Oh, indeed! very good. Lenochka, go up-stairs with Monsieur Lemm."
The old man was about to follow the little girl, when Panshine stopped
him.
"Don't go away when the lesson is over, Christopher Fedorovich," he
said. "Lizaveta Mikhailovna and I are going to play a duet--one of
Beethoven's sonatas."
The old man muttered something to himself, but Panshine continued in
German, pronouncing the words very badly--
"Lizaveta Mikhailovna has shown me the sacred cantata which you have
dedicated to her--a very beautiful piece! I beg you will not suppose
I am unable to appreciate serious music. Quite the reverse. It is
sometimes tedious; but, on the other hand, it is extremely edifying."
The old man blushed to the ears, cast a side glance at Liza, and went
hastily out of the room.
Maria Dmitrievna asked Panshine to repeat his romance; but he declared
that he did not like to offend the ears of the scientific German,
and proposed to Liza to begin Beethoven's sonata. On this, Maria
Dmitrievna sighed, and, on her part, proposed a stroll in the garden
to Gedeonovsky.
"I want to have a little more chat with you," she said, "about our
poor Fedia, and to ask for your advice."
Gedeonovsky smiled and bowed, took up with two fingers his hat, on the
brim of which his gloves were neatly laid out, and retired with Maria
Dmitrievna.
Panshine and Eliza remained in the room. She fetched the sonata, and
spread it out. Both sat down to the piano in silence. From up-stairs
there came the feeble sound of scales, played by Lenochka's uncertain
fingers.
* * * * *
_Note to p_. 36.
It is possible that M. Panshine may have been inspired by Heine's
verses:--
Wie des Mondes Abbild zittert
In den wilden Meereswogen,
Und er selber still und sicher
Wandelt an dem Himmelshogen.
Also wandelst du, Geliebte,
Still und sicher, und es zittert
Nur dein Abbild mir im Herzen,
Weil mein eignes Herz erschüttert.