Varvara had no knowledge of Peredonov's trip. She passed an extremely
distressing night.
When Peredonov returned to town in the morning he did not go home, but
asked to be driven to church--it was time for Mass. It seemed dangerous
to him now not to go to church often--they might inform against him if
he did not.
At the church gate he met a pleasant-looking schoolboy, with a rosy,
ingenuous face and innocent blue eyes. Peredonov said to him:
"Hullo there, Mashenka, hullo, girlie!"
Misha Koudryavtsev flushed painfully. Peredonov often teased him by
calling him "Mashenka"--Misha did not understand why and could not make
up his mind to complain. A number of his companions, stupid youngsters
elbowing each other, laughed at Peredonov's words. They too liked to
tease Misha.
The church, dedicated to the prophet Elias, an old structure built
in the days of Tsar Mikhail, stood in the square, facing the school.
For this reason, on church holidays, at Mass and for Vespers, the
schoolboys had to gather here and to stand in rows on the left by the
chapel of St. Catherine the Martyr, while behind them stood one of the
assistant masters in order to keep discipline. Here also in a row,
nearer the centre of the church, stood the form masters, as well as the
inspector and the Head-Master, with their families. It was usual for
nearly all the orthodox schoolboys to gather here, except the few who
were permitted to attend their parish churches with their parents.
The choir of schoolboys sang well, and for this reason the church was
attended by merchants of the First Guild, officials and the families
of landed gentry. There were only a few of the common folk--especially
since, in conformity with the Head-Master's wish, Mass was celebrated
there later than in other churches.
Peredonov stood in his usual place, from which he could see all the
members of the choir. Screwing up his eyes, he looked at them and
thought that they were standing out of their places. If he had been
inspector he would have pulled them up. There was, for example, a
smooth-faced boy, named Kramarenko, a small, thin, fidgety youngster
who was constantly turning this way and that way, whispering,
smiling--and there was no one to keep him in order. It seemed to be no
one's affair.
"What confusion!" thought Peredonov. "These choir-boys are all
good-for-nothings. That dark youngster there has a fine, clear
soprano--so he thinks he can whisper and grin in church."
And Peredonov frowned.
At his side stood a late-comer, the inspector of the National Schools,
Sergey Potapovitch Bogdanov, an oldish man with a brown, stupid face,
who always looked as if he wanted to explain to somebody something
which he could never make head or tail of himself. No one was easier to
frighten or to astonish than Bogdanov: no sooner did he hear anything
new or disquieting than his forehead would become wrinkled from his
inward, painful efforts and from his mouth would issue a string of
incoherent and perplexed exclamations.
Peredonov bent towards him and said in a whisper:
"One of your schoolmistresses walks about in a red shirt!"
Bogdanov was alarmed. His white Adam's apple twitched with fear under
his chin.
"What do you say?" he whispered hoarsely. "Who is she?"
"The loud-voiced, fat one--I don't know what her name is," whispered
Peredonov.
"The loud-voiced one, the loud-voiced one," repeated Bogdanov in a
confused way, "that must be Skobotchkina. Yes?"
"Yes, that must be the one," declared Peredonov.
"Well! Good heavens! Who'd have thought that!" exclaimed Bogdanov.
"Skobotchkina in a red shirt! Well! Did you see it with your own eyes?"
"Yes, I saw her, and they tell me she goes into school like that. And
sometimes even worse; she puts on a sarafan[1] and walks about like a
common girl."
"You don't say so! I must look into it! We can't have that! We can't
have that! She'll have to be dismissed, dismissed, I say," babbled on
Bogdanov. "She was always like that."
Mass was over. As they were leaving the church, Peredonov said to
Kramarenko:
"Here, you whippety-snippet! Why were you grinning in church? Just
wait, I shall tell your father!"
Kramarenko looked at Peredonov in astonishment and ran past him without
speaking. He belonged to that number of pupils who thought Peredonov
coarse, stupid and unjust, and who therefore disliked and despised
him. The majority of the pupils thought similarly. Peredonov imagined
that these were the boys who had been prejudiced against him by the
Head-Master, if not personally, at least through his sons.
Peredonov was approached on the other side of the fence by Volodin. He
was chuckling happily, and his face was as cheerful as if it were his
birthday; he wore a bowler hat and carried his cane in the fashionable
way.
"I've something to tell you, Ardalyon Borisitch," he said gleefully.
"I've managed to persuade Cherepnin, and very soon he's going to smear
Marta's gate with tar!"
Peredonov said nothing for a moment. He seemed to be considering
something, and then suddenly burst into his usual morose laughter.
Volodin at once ceased grinning, assumed a sober look, straightened his
bowler hat, looked at the sky, swung his stick and said:
"It's a fine day, but it looks as if it will rain this evening. Well,
let it rain; I shall spend the evening at the future inspector's house."
"I can't waste any time at home now," said Peredonov, "I've got more
important affairs to attend to in town."
Volodin looked as if he comprehended, though he really had no idea what
business Peredonov had to attend to. Peredonov determined that he must,
without fail, make several visits. Yesterday's chance meeting with the
Lieutenant-Colonel had suggested to him an idea which now seemed to him
very important: to make the rounds of all important personages of the
town to assure them of his loyalty. If he should succeed, then, in an
emergency, Peredonov would find defenders in the town who would testify
to the correctness of his attitude.
"Where are you going, Ardalyon Borisitch?" asked Volodin, seeing that
Peredonov was turning off from the path by which he usually went back
from church. "Aren't you going home?"
"Yes, I'm going home," answered Peredonov, "but I don't like to go
along that street now."
"Why?"
"There's a lot of _durman_[2] growing there, and the smell's very
strong. I'm very much affected by it--it stupefies me. My nerves are on
edge just now. I seem to have nothing but worries."
Volodin's face once more assumed a comprehending and sympathetic
expression.
On the way Peredonov pulled off some thistle-heads and put them in his
pocket.
"What do you want those thistle-heads for?" asked Volodin with a grin.
"For the cat," answered Peredonov gruffly.
"Are you going to stick them in its fur?" asked Volodin.
"Yes."
Volodin sniggered.
"Don't begin without me," he cried.
Peredonov asked him to come in at once, but Volodin declared that he
had an appointment: he suddenly felt that it wasn't the right thing not
to have appointments; Peredonov's words about his affairs had inspired
him with the idea that it would be well for him to visit the Adamenko
girl on his own, and to tell her that he had some new, splendid
drawings which needed framing--perhaps she would like to look at them.
"In any case," thought Volodin, "Nadezhda Vassilyevna will ask me to
have a cup of coffee."
And so that was what Volodin did. He suddenly invented another scheme:
he proposed to Nadezhda Vassilyevna that her brother should take up
carpentry. Nadezhda Vassilyevna imagined that Volodin was in need of
money, and she immediately consented. They agreed to work for two hours
three times a week, for which Volodin was to get thirty roubles a
month. Volodin was in raptures--here was some cash and the possibility
of frequent meetings with Nadezhda Vassilyevna.
Peredonov returned home gloomy as usual. Varvara, pale from her
sleepless night, grumbled:
"You might have told me yesterday that you weren't coming home."
Peredonov provoked her by saying maliciously that he had been on a trip
with Marta. Varvara was silent. She held the Princess's letter in her
hand. It was a forged letter, but still----.
She said to him at luncheon, with a meaning smile:
"While you were gadding about with Marfushka, I received an answer from
the Princess."
"I didn't know you wrote to her." Peredonov's face lighted up with a
gleam of dull expectation.
"Well, that's good! Didn't you yourself tell me to write?"
"Well, what did she say?" asked Peredonov with some agitation.
"Here's the letter--read it for yourself."
Varvara fumbled for a long time in her pockets and finally found the
letter and gave it to Peredonov. He stopped eating and grabbed the
letter eagerly. He read it and was overjoyed. Here at last was a clear
and definite promise. At the moment no doubts entered his mind. He
quickly finished his luncheon and went out to show the letter to his
acquaintances and friends.
With a grim animation he entered Vershina's garden. Vershina, as
nearly always, was standing at the gate smoking. She was very pleased:
formerly, she had to lure him in, now he came in himself. Vershina
thought:
"That comes of his going on a trip with Marta; he spent some time with
her and now he's come again. I wonder if he means to propose to her?"
Peredonov disillusioned her immediately by showing her the letter.
"You kept disbelieving it," he said, "and here the Princess has
written. Read that and see for yourself."
Vershina looked incredulously at the letter, quickly blew tobacco smoke
on it several times running, made a wry smile and asked quietly and
quickly:
"But where's the envelope?"
Peredonov suddenly felt alarmed. He suspected that Varvara was trying
to deceive him and had written the letter herself. He must get the
envelope from her at once.
"I don't know," he said, "I must ask."
He said good-bye to Vershina and went quickly back to his own house.
It was absolutely necessary for him to assure himself as soon as
possible of the source of the letter--the sudden doubt tormented him.
Vershina, standing at the gate, looked after him with her wry smile,
rapidly puffing out cigarette smoke, as if she were trying to finish
the cigarette like a tiresome lesson.
Peredonov came running home with a frightened and tormented face, and
while yet in the passage he shouted in a voice hoarse with agitation:
"Varvara! Where's the envelope?"
"What envelope?" asked Varvara in a trembling voice.
She looked at Peredonov insolently and would have flushed had she not
been already rouged.
"The envelope, from the Princess, of the letter you gave me to-day,"
explained Peredonov, with a look half-frightened, half-malignant.
Varvara gave a forced laugh.
"I burnt it. What good was it to me?" she said. "Why should I keep it?
I'm not making a collection of envelopes. You can't get any money for
envelopes. You can only get money for empty bottles at a pub."
Peredonov walked gloomily about the rooms and growled:
"There are all sorts of Princesses--we know that. Perhaps this Princess
lives here."
Varvara pretended not to understand his suspicions, but yet trembled
violently.
When, towards evening, Peredonov strolled past Vershina's cottage, she
stopped him.
"Have you found the envelope?" she asked.
"Vara tells me she burnt it."
Vershina laughed, and the white, thin clouds of tobacco smoke wavered
before her in the quiet, cool air.
"It's strange," she said, "that your cousin is so careless. Here's an
important letter--and no envelope! You might have been able to tell
from the post-mark when it was sent and where from."
Peredonov was extremely irritated. In vain Vershina invited him
into the garden; in vain she promised to look in the cards for
him--Peredonov left.
Nevertheless, he showed the letter to his friends and boasted. And his
friends believed him.
But Peredonov did not know whether to believe or not. At all events, he
decided to begin on Tuesday his round of visits to important personages
in the town to strengthen his position. He decided not to begin on
Monday, as it was an unlucky day.
[1] Sarafan, national peasant-woman's costume.
[2] See note above. Search for: thorn apple or datura.