And so his offer was accepted, but under certain conditions. In the
first place, Lavretsky must immediately leave the university. Who
could think of marrying a student? And what an extraordinary idea,
a landed proprietor, a rich man, at twenty-six years of age, to be
taking lessons like a schoolboy! In the second place, Varvara Pavlovna
was to take upon herself the trouble of ordering and buying her
trousseau. She even chose the presents the bridegroom was to give.
She had very good taste, and a great deal of common sense, and she
possessed a great liking for comfort, and no small skill in getting
herself that comfort. Lavretsky was particularly struck by this talent
when, immediately after the wedding, he and his wife set off for
Lavriki, travelling in a convenient carriage which she had chosen
herself. How carefully all their surroundings had been meditated over
by Varvara Pavlovna! what prescience she had shown in providing them!
What charming travelling contrivances made their appearance in
the various convenient corners! what delicious toilet boxes! what
excellent coffee machines! and how gracefully did Varvara Pavlovna
herself make the coffee in the morning! But it must be confessed that
Lavretsky was little fitted for critical observation just then. He
revelled in his happiness, he was intoxicated by his good fortune, he
abandoned himself to it like a child--he was, indeed, as innocent as a
child, this young Hercules. Not in vain did a charmed influence attach
itself to the whole presence of his young wife; not in vain did she
promise to the imagination a secret treasure of unknown delights. She
was even better than her promise.
When she arrived at Lavriki, which was in the very hottest part of the
summer, the house seemed to her sombre and in bad order, the servants
antiquated and ridiculous; but she did not think it necessary to say
a word about this to her husband. If she had intended to settle at
Lavriki, she would have altered every thing there, beginning of course
with the house; but the idea of staying in that out-of-the-way corner
never, even for an instant, came into her mind. She merely lodged
in it, as she would have done in a tent, putting up with all its
discomforts in the sweetest manner, and laughing at them pleasantly.
When Marfa Timofeevna came to see her old pupil, she produced a
favorable impression on Varvara Pavlovna. But Varvara was not at all
to the old lady's liking. Nor did the young mistress of the house get
on comfortably with Glafira Petrovna. She herself would have been
content to leave Glafira in peace, but the general was anxious to get
his hand into the management of his son-in-law's affairs. To see after
the property of so near a relative, he said, was an occupation that
even a general might adopt without disgrace. It is possible that Pavel
Petrovich would not have disdained to occupy himself with the affairs
of even an utter stranger.
Varvara Pavlovna carried out her plan of attack very skillfully.
Although never putting herself forward, but being to all appearance
thoroughly immersed in the bliss of the honeymoon, in the quiet life
of the country, in music, and in books, she little by little worked
upon Glafira, until that lady, one morning, burst into Lavretsky's
study like a maniac, flung her bunch of keys on the table, and
announced that she could no longer look after the affairs of the
household, and that she did not wish to remain on the estate. As
Lavretsky had been fitly prepared for the scene, he immediately gave
his consent to her departure. This Glafira Petrovna had not expected.
"Good," she said, and her brow grew dark. "I see that I am not wanted
here. I know that I am expelled hence, driven away from the family
nest. But, nephew, remember my words--nowhere will you be able to
build you a nest; your lot will be to wander about without ceasing.
There is my parting legacy to you." That same day she went off to her
own little property: a week later General Korobine arrived, and, with
a pleasantly subdued air, took the whole management of the estate into
his own hands.
In September Varvara Pavlovna carried off her husband to St.
Petersburg. There the young couple spent two winters--migrating in
the summer to Tsarskoe Selo. They lived in handsome, bright,
admirably-furnished apartments; they made numerous acquaintances in
the upper and even the highest circles of society; they went out a
great deal and received frequently, giving very charming musical
parties and dances. Varvara Pavlovna attracted visitors as a light
does moths.
Such a distracting life did not greatly please Fedor Ivanich. His
wife wanted him to enter the service; but, partly in deference to his
father's memory, partly in accordance with his own ideas, he would
not do so, though he remained in St. Petersburg to please his wife.
However, he soon found out that no one objected to his isolating
himself, that it was not without an object that his study had been
made the quietest and the most comfortable in the whole city, that his
attentive wife was ever ready to encourage him in isolating himself;
and from that time all went well. He again began to occupy himself
with his as yet, as he thought, unfinished education. He entered upon
anew course of reading; he even began the study of English. It was
curious to see his powerful, broad-shouldered figure constantly
bending over his writing-table, his full, ruddy, bearded face,
half-hidden by the leaves of a dictionary or a copy-book. His mornings
were always spent over his work; later in the day he sat down to an
excellent dinner--for Varvara Pavlovna always managed her household
affairs admirably; and in the evening he entered an enchanted,
perfumed, brilliant world, all peopled by young and joyous beings, the
central point of their world being that extremely attentive manager of
the household, his wife.
She made him happy with a son; but the poor child did not live long.
It died in the spring; and in the summer, in accordance with the
advice of the doctors, Lavretsky and his wife went the round of the
foreign watering-places. Distraction was absolutely necessary for her
after such a misfortune; and, besides, her health demanded a warmer
climate. That summer and autumn they spent in Germany and Switzerland;
and in the winter, as might be expected, they went to Paris.
In Paris Varvara Pavlovna bloomed like a rose; and there, just as
quickly and as skilfully as she had done in St. Petersburg, she learnt
how to build herself a snug little nest. She procured a very pretty
set of apartments in one of the quiet but fashionable streets, she
made her husband such a dressing-gown as he had never worn before; she
secured an elegant lady's maid, an excellent cook, and an energetic
footman; and she provided herself with an exquisite carriage, and a
charming cabinet piano. Before a week was over she could already cross
a street, put on a shawl, open a parasol, and wear gloves, as well as
the most pure-blooded of Parisian women.
She soon made acquaintances also. At first only Russians used to
come to her house; then Frenchmen began to show themselves--amiable
bachelors, of polished manners, exquisite in demeanor, and bearing
high-sounding names. They all talked a great deal and very fast,
they bowed gracefully, their eyes twinkled pleasantly. All of them
possessed teeth which gleamed white between rosy lips; and how
beautifully they smiled! Each of them brought his friends; and before
long _La belle Madame de Lavretski_ became well known from the
_Chausée d' Antin_ to the _Rue de Lille_. At that time--it was in
1836--the race of _feuilletonists_ and journalists, which now swarms
everywhere, numerous as the ants one sees when a hole is made in an
ant-hill, had not yet succeeded in multiplying in numbers. Still,
there used to appear in Varvara Pavlovna's drawing-room a certain M.
Jules, a gentleman who bore a very bad character, whose appearance
was unprepossessing, and whose manner was at once insolent and
cringing--like that of all duellists and people who have been
horsewhipped. Varvara disliked this M. Jules very much; but she
received him because he wrote in several newspapers, and used to be
constantly mentioning her, calling her sometimes Madame de L ... tski,
sometimes Madame de * * *, _cette grande dame Russe si distinguée, qui
demeure rue de P----_, and describing to the whole world, that is to
say to some few hundreds of subscribers, who had nothing whatever to
do with Madame de L ... tski, how loveable and charming was that lady,
_une vraie française par l'esprit_,--the French have no higher
praise than this,--what an extraordinary musician she was, and how
wonderfully she waltzed. (Varvara Pavlovna did really waltz so as to
allure all hearts to the skirt of her light, floating robe.) In fact,
he spread her fame abroad throughout the world; and this we know,
whatever people may say, is pleasant.
Mademoiselle Mars had by that time quitted the stage, and Mademoiselle
Rachel had not yet appeared there; but for all that Varvara Pavlovna
none the less assiduously attended the theatres. She went into
raptures about Italian music, and laughed over the ruins of Odry,
yawned in a becoming manner at the legitimate drama, and cried at the
sight of Madame Dorval's acting in some ultra-melodramatic piece.
Above all, Liszt played at her house twice, and was so gracious, so
unaffected! It was charming!
Amid such pleasurable sensations passed the winter, at the end of
which Varvara Pavlovna was even presented at Court. As for Fedor
Ivanovich, he was not exactly bored, but life began to weigh heavily
on his shoulders at times--heavily because of its very emptiness. He
read the papers, he listened to the lectures at the _Sorbonne_ and
the _College de France_, he followed the debates in the Chambers,
he occupied himself in translating a famous scientific work on
irrigation. "I am not wasting my time," he thought; "all this is of
use; but next winter I really must return to Russia, and betake myself
to active business." It would be hard to say if he had any clear idea
of what were the special characteristics of that business, and only
Heaven could tell whether he was likely to succeed in getting back to
Russia in the winter. In the meanwhile he was intending to go with his
wife to Baden. But an unexpected occurrence upset all his plans.