About ten o'clock in the morning, on the day after that of which
we have already spoken, Lavretsky was going up the steps of the
Kalitines' house, when he met Liza with her bonnet and gloves on.
"Where are you going?" he asked her.
"To church. To-day is Sunday."
"And so you go to church?"
Liza looked at him in silent wonder.
"I beg your pardon," said Lavretsky. "I--I did not mean to say that.
I came to take leave of you. I shall start for my country-house in
another hour."
"That isn't far from here, is it?" asked Liza.
"About five-and-twenty versts."
At this moment Lenochka appeared at the door, accompanied by a
maid-servant.
"Mind you don't forget us," said Liza, and went down the steps.
"Don't forget me either. By the way," he continued, "you are going to
church; say a prayer for me too, while you are there."
Liza stopped and turned towards him.
"Very well," she said, looking him full in the face. "I will pray for
you, too. Come, Lenochka."
Lavretsky found Maria Dmitrievna alone in the drawing-room, which was
redolent of Eau de Cologne and peppermint. Her head ached, she said,
and she had spent a restless night.
She received him with her usual languid amiability, and by degrees
began to talk.
"Tell me," she asked him, "is not Vladimir Nikolaevich a very
agreeable young man?"
"Who is Vladimir Nikolaevich?"
"Why Panshine, you know, who was here yesterday. He was immensely
delighted with you. Between ourselves I may mention, _mon cher
cousin_, that he is perfectly infatuated with my Liza. Well, he is of
good family, he is getting on capitally in the service, he is clever,
and besides he is a chamberlain; and if such be the will of God--I,
for my part, as a mother, shall be glad of it. It is certainly a great
responsibility; most certainly the happiness of children depends upon
their parents. But this much must be allowed. Up to the present time,
whether well or ill, I have done every thing myself, and entirely by
myself. I have brought up my children and taught them every thing
myself--and now I have just written to Maclame Bulous for a
governess--"
Maria Dmitrievna launched out into a description of her cares, her
efforts, her maternal feelings. Lavretsky listened to her in silence,
and twirled his hat in his hands. His cold, unsympathetic look at last
disconcerted the talkative lady.
"And what do you think of Liza?" she asked.
"Lizaveta Mikhailovna is an exceedingly handsome girl," replied
Lavretsky. Then he got up, said good-bye, and went to pay Marfa
Timofeevna a visit. Maria Dmitrievna looked after him with an
expression of dissatisfaction, and thought to herself, "What a bear!
what a moujik! Well, now I understand why his wife couldn't remain
faithful to him."
Marfa Timofeevna was sitting in her room, surrounded by her court.
This consisted of five beings, almost equally dear to her heart--an
educated bullfinch, to which she had taken an affection because it
could no longer whistle or draw water, and which was afflicted with a
swollen neck; a quiet and exceedingly timid little dog, called Roska;
a bad-tempered cat, named Matros; a dark-complexioned, lively little
girl of nine, with very large eyes and a sharp nose, whose name was
Shurochka[A]; and an elderly lady of about fifty-five, who wore a
white cap and a short, cinnamon-colored _katsaveika_[B] over a dark
gown, and whose name was Nastasia Carpovna Ogarkof.
[Footnote A: One of the many diminutives of Alexandrina.]
[Footnote B: A kind of jacket worn by women.]
Shurochka was a fatherless and motherless girl, whose relations
belonged to the lowest class of the bourgeoisie. Marfa Timofeevna had
adopted her, as well as Roska, out of pity. She had found both the dog
and the girl out in the streets. Both of them were thin and cold; the
autumn rain had drenched them both. No one ever claimed Roska, and as
to Shurochka, she was even gladly given up to Marfa Timofeevna by her
uncle, a drunken shoemaker, who never had enough to eat himself, and
could still less provide food for his niece, whom he used to hit over
the head with his last.
As to Nastasia Carpovna, Marfa Timofeevna had made acquaintance with
her on a pilgrimage, in a monastery. She went up to that old lady in
church one day,--Nastasia Carpovna had pleased Marfa Timofeevna by
praying as the latter lady said, "in very good taste"--began to talk
to her, and invited her home to a cup of tea. From that day she parted
with her no more. Nastasia Carpovna, whose father had belonged to the
class of poor gentry, was a widow without children. She was a woman of
a very sweet and happy disposition; she had a round head, grey hair,
and soft, white hands. Her face also was soft, and her features,
including a somewhat comical snub nose, were heavy, but pleasant. She
worshipped Marfa Timofeevna, who loved her dearly, although she teased
her greatly about her susceptible heart. Nastasia Carpovna had a
weakness for all young men, and never could help blushing like a girl
at the most innocent joke. Her whole property consisted of twelve
hundred paper roubles.[A] She lived at Marfa Timofeevna's expense, but
on a footing of perfect equality with her. Marfa Timofeevna could not
have endured any thing like servility.
[Footnote A: About _£50_.]
"Ah, Fedia!" she began, as soon as she saw him
"You didn't see my family last night. Please to admire them now; we
are all met together for tea. This is our second, our feast-day tea.
You may embrace us all. Only Shurochka wouldn't let you, and the cat
would scratch you. Is it to-day you go?"
"Yes," said Lavretsky, sitting down on a low chair. "I have just taken
leave of Maria Dmitrievna. I saw Lizaveta Mikhailovna too."
"Call her Liza, my dear. Why should she be Mikhailovna for you? But do
sit still, or you will break Shurochka's chair."
"She was on her way to church," continued Lavretsky. "Is she seriously
inclined?"
"Yes, Fedia, very much so. More than you or I, Fedia."
"And do you mean to say you are not seriously inclined?" lisped
Nastasia Carpovna. "If you have not gone to the early mass to-day, you
will go to the later one."
"Not a bit of it. Thou shalt go alone. I've grown lazy, my mother,"
answered Marfa Timofeevna. "I am spoiling myself terribly with tea
drinking."
She said _thou_ to Nastasia Carpovna, although she lived on a footing
of equality with her--but it was not for nothing that she was a
Pestof. Three Pestofs occur in the Sinodik[A] of Ivan the Terrible.
Marfa Timofeevna was perfectly well aware of the fact.
[Footnote A: "_I.e._, in the list of the nobles of his time, in the
sixteenth century.]
"Tell me, please," Lavretsky began again. "Maria Dmitrievna was
talking to me just now about that--what's his name?--Panshine. What
sort of a man is he?"
"Good Lord! what a chatter-box she is!" grumbled Marfa Timofeevna.
"I've no doubt she has communicated to you as a secret that he hangs
about here as a suitor. She might have been contented to 'Whisper
about it with her _popovich_[A] But no, it seems that is not enough
for her. And yet there is nothing settled so far, thank God! but she's
always chattering."
[Footnote A: The priest's son. _i.e._, Gedeonovsky.]
"Why do you say 'Thank God?'" asked Lavretsky.
"Why, because this fine young man doesn't please me. And what is there
in the matter to be delighted about, I should like to know?"
"Doesn't he please you?"
"No; he can't fascinate every one. It's enough for him that Nastasia
Carpovna here is in love with him."
The poor widow was terribly disconcerted.
"How can you say so, Marfa Timofeevna? Do not you fear God?" she
exclaimed, and a blush instantly suffused her face and neck.
"And certainly the rogue knows how to fascinate her," broke in Marfa
Timofeevna. "He has given her a snuff-box. Fedia, ask her for a pinch
of snuff. You will see what a splendid snuff-box it is. There is
a hussar on horseback on the lid. You had much better not try to
exculpate yourself, my mother."
Nastasia Carpovna could only wave her hands with a deprecatory air.
"Well, but about Liza?" asked Lavretsky. "Is he indifferent to her?"
"She seems to like him--and as to the rest, God knows. Another
person's heart, you know, is a dark forest, and more especially a
young girl's. Look at Shurochka there! Come and analyze her's. Why has
she been hiding herself, but not going away, ever since you came in?"
Shurochka burst into a laugh she was unable to stifle, and ran out of
the room. Lavretsky also rose from his seat.
"Yes," he said slowly; "one cannot fathom a girl's heart."
As he was going to take leave.
"Well; shall we see you soon?" asked Marfa Timofeevna.
"Perhaps, aunt. It's no great distance to where I'm going."
"Yes; you're going, no doubt, to Vasilievskoe. You won't live at
Lavriki. Well, that's your affair. Only go and kneel down at your
mother's grave, and your grandmother's, too, while you are there. You
have picked up all kinds of wisdom abroad there, and perhaps, who can
tell, they may feel, even in their graves, that you have come to visit
them. And don't forget, Fedia, to have a service said for Glafira
Petrovna, too. Here is a rouble for you. Take it, take it please; it
is I who wish to have the service performed for her. I didn't love
her while she lived, but it must be confessed that she was a girl of
character. She was clever. And then she didn't hurt you. And now go,
and God be with you--else I shall tire you."
And Marfa Timofeevna embraced her nephew.
"And Liza shall not marry Panshine; don't make yourself uneasy about
that. He isn't the sort of man she deserves for a husband."
"But I am not in the least uneasy about it," remarked Lavretsky as he
retired.