Sonya Svetilovitch was badly shaken by the hard, cruel events of that
night in the woods. She fell ill, and remained two weeks in an
unconscious state. It was feared that she would die. But she was a
strong girl and conquered her illness.
Scenes from that nightmarish occasion passed before the poor girl in
her heavy delirium. Grey, ferocious demons, with dim, tinny eyes, came
to her, taunted her, and acted without reason. There was no place in
which to hide from the hideous frenzy.
Deep oppression reigned in the Svetilovitch house. Sonya’s mother
wept, and bewailed her lot. Sonya’s father spoke of the matter warmly
and eloquently, with gesticulations, to his friends in his study--and
inevitably got into a state of indignation. Sonya’s little brothers
discussed plans of vengeance. Fräulein Berta, the governess of Sonya’s
younger sister, made censorious remarks about barbarous Russia.
All the acquaintances of the Svetilovitches were also indignant. But
their indignation assumed only platonic forms. Perhaps it was
impossible for it to have been otherwise. To be sure, all the more or
less independent people in town paid the Svetilovitches visits of
sympathy. Even the liberal Inspector of Taxes came. He was a patient
of Doctor Svetilovitch’s, and came during the reception hour to
express his interest; incidentally he asked advice about his physical
indispositions and paid no fee--in view of its being a visit of
sympathy.
Sonya’s father, Doctor Sergey Lvovitch Svetilovitch, was a member of
the Constitutional Democratic Party; among his own he was regarded as
belonging to the extreme left wing. Like his friend Rameyev, who was a
Cadet of more moderate views, he was a member of the local committee.
Doctor Svetilovitch thought he ought to protest against the improper
actions of the police. He lodged complaints with the Governor and the
District Attorney, and wrote circumstantial petitions to both--his
chief concern being that no offending expression of any sort should
enter into them.
Doctor Svetilovitch was an extremely correct and loyal man. Other
people around him, if placed in unusual circumstances, might lose
their presence of mind and forget their principles; others around him,
friends or enemies, might act incorrectly and illegally; but Doctor
Svetilovitch always remained faithful to himself. No circumstance, no
earthly or heavenly power, could swerve him from the path which he
acknowledged as the only true one, in so far as it conformed to
Constitutional Democratic principles. The problem of expedience of
conduct concerned Doctor Svetilovitch but little. The important thing
was to be correct in principle. He always placed, however, the
responsibility for the result this procedure achieved upon the
shoulders of those who wished to follow along other lines. That was
why Doctor Svetilovitch enjoyed extraordinary respect in his own
party. Great weight was attached to his opinions, and in the matter of
tactics his declarations were indisputable.
Several days after Doctor Svetilovitch presented his petition he had a
call from an inspector of the police, who handed him, with a request
for a receipt, a grey, rough paper impressed at the upper left-hand
corner with the stamp of the Skorodozh governing authorities, together
with a packet from the District Attorney. This last contained a white
solid-looking page of foolscap folded in four, handsomely engraved
with the District Attorney’s seal. Both the grey rough paper and the
solid-looking page of foolscap contained approximately in the same
words the answers to the complaints of Doctor Svetilovitch. These
informed Doctor Svetilovitch that a very careful investigation had
been made in connexion with his complaints; in conclusion, it was
affirmed that Doctor Svetilovitch’s evidence as to the illegal actions
of the police, and as to the subjection of the girls caught in the
woods to blows, was not borne out by facts.
At last Sonya began to improve. The members of the family and
acquaintances tried not to recall the sad incident of that night
before Sonya. Only indifferent and pleasant matters were mentioned in
the poor girl’s presence in order to divert her. A number of visitors
were invited one evening for this purpose. Some were asked by letter,
others by Doctor Svetilovitch in person. He visited the Rameyevs and
Trirodov in his carriage, which was harnessed to a pair of stout
ponies.
In inviting Trirodov, Doctor Svetilovitch asked him to read something
from his own work at the gathering, something that would not make
Sonya unpleasantly reminiscent. Trirodov agreed to this quite
heartily, although he usually avoided reading his own work anywhere.
As Trirodov was preparing to leave his house that evening and was
putting on a coloured tie, Kirsha said to him with his usual gravity:
“I should not go to the Svetilovitches’ to-night if I were you. It
would be much wiser to remain at home.”
Trirodov, not all astonished by this unexpected advice, smiled and
asked:
“Why shouldn’t I go?”
Kirsha held his father’s hand and said sadly:
“There have been many detectives of late poking their noses about
here. What can they want here? It’s almost certain they will make a
search of Svetilovitch’s house to-night--I have a presentiment.”
“That’s nothing,” said Trirodov with a smile, “we have got used to
everything. But, dear Kirsha, you are very inquisitive--you look in
everywhere, even where you shouldn’t.”
“My eyes see, and my ears hear,” replied Kirsha, “is that my fault?”
In the pleasant, well-appointed drawing-room of the Svetilovitches, in
the lifeless light of three electric globes with lustrous bronze
fittings, the green-blue upholsterings of the Empire furniture seemed
illusively beautiful. The dark curves of the grand piano were
gleaming. Albums were lying on a little table under the leaves of a
palm. The portrait of an old man with a long, white moustache smiled
down youthfully and cheerfully from its place on the wall above the
sofa. The visitors gathered in the midst of these attractive
surroundings, as if there were nothing to mar them. They spoke a great
deal, with much heat and eloquence.
Most of the visitors were local Cadets. Among those present were three
physicians, one engineer, two legal advocates, the editor of a local
progressive newspaper, a justice of the peace, a notary, three
gymnasia instructors, and a priest. Nearly all came accompanied by
women and girls. There were also several students, college girls, and
grownup schoolboys from the higher gymnasia classes.
The young priest, Nikolai Matveyevitch Zakrasin, who sympathized with
the Cadets, gave lessons in Trirodov’s school. He was considered a
great freethinker among his colleagues, the priests. The town clergy
looked askance at him. And the Diocesan Bishop was not well disposed
towards him.
Father Zakrasin had completed a course in the ecclesiastical academy.
He spoke rather well, wrote something, and collaborated not only in
religious but also in worldly periodicals. He had wavy, dense, not
over-long hair. His grey eyes smiled amiably and cheerfully. His
priestly attire always appeared new and neat. His manners were
restrained and gentle. He did not at all resemble the average Russian
priest; Father Zakrasin seemed more like a Catholic prelate who had
let his beard grow and had put on a golden pectoral cross. Father
Zakrasin’s house was bright, neat, and cheerful. The walls were
decorated with engravings, scenes from sacred history. His study
contained several cases of books. It was evident from their selection
that Father Zakrasin’s interests were very broad. In general he liked
that which was certain, convincing, and rational.
His wife, Susanna Kirillovna, a good-looking, plump, and calm woman,
who was wholly convinced of the justice of the Cadets’ cause, was now
sitting quietly on the sofa in the Svetilovitch drawing-room, and
expounding truths. Notwithstanding her Constitutional Democratic
convictions, she was a real priest’s spouse, a housewifely,
loquacious, timorous creature.
Priest Zakrasin’s sister, Irina Matveyevna, or Irinushka as every one
called her, was a parish-school girl who had been won over to the
cause by the priest’s wife; she was young, rosy, and slender, and
greatly resembled her brother. She got excited so often and so
intensely that she constantly had to be appeased by the elders, who
regarded her youthful impetuosity with benevolent amusement.
Rameyev was there with both his daughters, the Matov brothers, and
Miss Harrison. Trirodov was there also.
There was almost a spirit of gaiety. They talked on various
subjects--on politics, on literature, on local matters, etc. Sonya’s
mother sat in the drawing-room and discussed women’s rights and the
works of Knut Hamsun. Sonya’s mother liked this writer intensely, and
loved to tell about her meeting with him abroad. There was an
autographed portrait of Knut Hamsun upon her table and it was the
object of much pride for the whole Svetilovitch family.
At the tea-table in the small neighbouring room, which was called the
“buffet,” Sonya--surrounded by young people--was pouring out tea. In
Doctor Svetilovitch’s study they spoke of the recent unrest in near-by
villages. There were incendiary fires on various estates and farms
belonging to the landed gentry. There were several cases in which the
bread granaries belonging to certain hoarders were broken into.
Sonya’s mother was asked to play something. She refused a long time,
but finally, with evident pleasure, went to the grand piano, and
played a selection from Grieg. Then the notary took his turn at the
instrument. Irinushka, blushing furiously, sang with much expression
the new popular song to his accompaniment:
_Once I loved a learned student,
I admit I wasn’t prudent;
On the day I married him
The village feasted to the brim.
Vodka every one was drinking,
All were doing loud thinking--
How to make the masters toil,
And amongst us share their soil.
Suddenly there came a copper
Right into our hut a-flopper!
“I’ll send you both to Sakhalin[22]
For raising this rebellious din.”
“Well, my dear one, quick, get ready,
Mind that you walk ‘long there steady,
For your charming words, my sweet,
A gaol is waiting you to greet.”
Do you think I was agitated?
No, not me--I was most elated.
Then the muzhiks stepped right in
And chucked him out on the green._
This song was an illustration appropriate to the discussions on
village tendencies. It achieved a great success. Irinushka was
profusely praised and thanked for it. Irinushka blushed, and regretted
that she knew no other songs of the same kind.
Then Trirodov read his story of a beautiful and exultant love. He read
simply and calmly, not as actors read. He finished reading and in the
cold polite praises he felt how remote he was from all these people.
Once more, as it frequently had happened before, there stirred in his
soul the thought: “Why do I come to see these people?”
“There is so little in common between them and me,” thought Trirodov.
Only Elisaveta’s smile and word consoled him.
Afterwards there was dancing--then card-playing. It was as always, as
everywhere.