Volodin went punctually to the Adamenkos to give his lessons. His hopes
that the young woman would invite him to take coffee were not realised.
Each time he came he was taken straight to the little shanty used for
carpentry. Misha usually stood in his linen apron at the joiner's
bench, having got ready what was necessary for the lesson. He did
obediently but unwillingly all that Volodin told him to do. In order to
work less, Misha tried to drag Volodin into conversation, but Volodin
wished to work conscientiously and refused to comply.
"Mishenka," he would say, "you had better do your work for a couple of
hours and then, if you like, we can have a talk. Then as much as you
like, but now not a bit--business before everything."
Misha sighed lightly and went on with his work, but at the end of the
lesson he had no desire to talk: he said he had no time and that he had
much home work to do.
Sometimes Nadezhda came to the lesson to see how Misha was getting
along. Misha noticed--and made use of the fact--that in her presence
Volodin could much more easily be lured into conversation. When
Nadezhda saw that Misha was not working she immediately said to him:
"Misha, don't be lazy!"
And when she left she said to Volodin:
"I'm sorry that I've interrupted. If you give him a little leeway he
gets very lazy."
At the beginning Volodin was mortified by Nadezhda's behaviour; then
he thought that she hesitated to ask him to take coffee in case there
should be gossip. Then he thought that she need not have come to look
on at the lessons at all and yet she came--was it because she liked
to see him? So Volodin reasoned to his advantage from the fact that
Nadezhda from the very first had eagerly agreed that he should give
lessons and had not stopped to bargain. He was encouraged in these
suppositions by Peredonov and Varvara.
"It is clear that she's in love with you," said Peredonov.
"And what better fiancé could she have?" added Varvara.
Volodin tried to look modest and felt pleased with his prospects.
Once Peredonov said to him:
"You're a fiancé and yet you wear that shabby tie!"
"I'm not her fiancé yet, Ardasha," said Volodin soberly, nevertheless
trembling with pleasure. "But I can easily get a new tie."
"Buy yourself one with a pattern in it," advised Peredonov. "So that it
will be clear that love is burning within you."
"Better get a red one," said Varvara, "and the fancier the better. And
a tie-pin. You can buy a tie-pin cheaply and with a stone too--it will
be quite _chic_."
Peredonov thought that possibly Volodin had not enough money. Or he
might think of economising and buy a simple black one. And that would
be fatal, thought Peredonov: Adamenko is a fashionable girl and if
he should come to propose to her in any kind of a tie she might be
offended and reject him. Peredonov said:
"Only don't buy a cheap one. Pavloushka, you've won from me enough
money to pay for a tie. How much do I owe you? I think it's one rouble
forty kopecks, isn't it?"
"You're quite right about the forty kopecks," said Volodin with a wry
smile, "only it's not one rouble but two."
Peredonov knew himself that it was two roubles, but it was more
pleasant to pay only one. He said:
"You're a liar! What two roubles?"
"Varvara Dmitrievna's my witness," said Volodin.
"You'd better pay, Ardalyon Borisitch," said Varvara, "since you
lost--and I remember that it was two forty."
Peredonov thought that as Varvara was interceding for Volodin, that
meant that she was going over to his side. He frowned, produced the
money from his purse and said:
"All right, let it be two forty--it won't ruin me. You're a poor man,
Pavloushka. Well, here it is."
Volodin took the money, counted it, then assumed an offended expression
and bent down his thick forehead, stuck out his lower lip and said in a
bleating, cracked voice:
"Ardalyon Borisitch, you happen to be in debt to me and therefore
you've got to pay, and that I happen to be poor has nothing to do with
the matter. I haven't yet come down to begging my bread off anyone, and
as you know the only poor devil is the one that hasn't any bread to
eat, and as I eat bread, and butter with it, that means I'm not poor."
And he became mollified and at the same time blushed with joy to think
that he had answered so cleverly, and twisted his lips into a smile.
* * * * *
At last Peredonov and Volodin decided to go and fix up the match. They
arranged themselves very elaborately and they had a solemn and more
than usually stupid look. Peredonov put on a white stock. Volodin a
vivid red tie with green stripes. Peredonov argued thus:
"As I am to do the match-making, mine is a sober role. I must live up
to it. So I must wear a white tie, and you, the lover, should show your
flaming feelings."
With intense solemnity Peredonov and Volodin seated themselves in
the Adamenkos' drawing-room. Peredonov sat on a sofa and Volodin in
an arm-chair. Nadezhda looked at her visitors in astonishment. The
visitors talked about the weather and various bits of news, with the
look of people who had come upon a delicate affair and did not know how
to approach it. At last Peredonov coughed, frowned and began:
"Nadezhda Vassilyevna, we've come on business."
"On business," said Volodin, making a significant face; and he
protruded his lips.
"It's about him," said Peredonov, and pointed at Volodin with his
forefinger.
"It's about me," echoed Volodin, and pointed his own forefinger at his
breast.
Nadezhda smiled.
"Please go on," she said.
"I'm going to speak for him," said Peredonov. "He's bashful, he can't
make up his mind to do it himself. He's a worthy, non-drinking, good
man. He does not earn much, but that's nothing. Everyone needs a
different thing--one needs money, another needs a man. Well, why don't
you say something?" He turned to Volodin, "Say something!"
Volodin lowered his head and spoke in a trembling voice, like a
bleating ram:
"It's true I don't earn high wages. But I shall always have my crumb of
bread. It's true that I didn't go to a university, but I live as may
God grant everyone to do. But I don't know anything against myself--and
besides, let everyone judge for himself. But I, well, I'm satisfied
with myself."
He spread out his arms, lowered his forehead as if he were about to
butt and grew silent.
"And so, as you see," said Peredonov, "he's a young man. And he
shouldn't live like this. He ought to marry. In any case the married
man is always better off."
"And if his wife suits him, what can be better?" added Volodin.
"And you," continued Peredonov, "are a girl. You also ought to marry."
From behind the door there came a slight rustle, abrupt smothered
sounds, as though someone were breathing or laughing with a closed
mouth. Nadezhda looked sternly in the direction of the door and said
coldly:
"You are too concerned about me," with an annoying emphasis on the word
"too."
"You don't want a rich husband," said Peredonov, "you're rich yourself.
You need someone to love you and gratify you in everything. And you
know him, you could understand him. He's not indifferent to you and
perhaps you're not indifferent to him either. So you see I have the
merchant and you have the goods. That is, you are the goods yourself."
Nadezhda blushed and bit her lip to keep from laughing. The same sounds
continued behind the door. Volodin bashfully lowered his eyes. It
seemed to him that his affair was going well.
"What goods?" asked Nadezhda cautiously. "Pardon me, I don't
understand."
"What do you mean, 'you don't understand'?" asked Peredonov
incredulously. "Well, I'll tell you straight. Pavel Vassilyevitch has
come to ask for your hand and heart. I ask on his behalf."
Behind the door something fell to the floor and rolled and snorted and
panted. Nadezhda, growing red with suppressed laughter, looked at her
visitors. Volodin's proposal seemed to her a ridiculous impertinence.
"Yes," said Volodin, "Nadezhda Vassilyevna, I've come to ask for your
hand and heart."
He grew red and rose from his chair--his foot awkwardly rumpled the
carpet--bowed and quickly sat down again. Then he got up again, put his
hand on his heart and said as he looked tenderly at the girl:
"Nadezhda Vassilyevna, permit me to say a few words! As I have loved
you for some time you surely will not say 'no' to me?"
He threw himself forward and let himself down on one knee before
Nadezhda and kissed her hand.
"Nadezhda Vassilyevna, believe me! I swear to you!" he exclaimed, and
lifted his hand high in the air and with a wild swing hit himself full
on the chest so that the sound re-echoed through the room.
"What's the matter with you! Please get up," said Nadezhda in
embarrassment. "Why are you doing this?"
Volodin rose and with an injured expression on his face returned to his
seat. There he pressed both his hands on his chest and again exclaimed:
"Nadezhda Vassilyevna, do believe me! Until death, from all my soul."
"I'm sorry," said Nadezhda, "but I really can't. I must bring up my
brother--even now he's crying behind the door."
"Bring up your brother," said Volodin, protruding an offended lip. "I
fail to see why that should prevent it."
"No, in any case it concerns him," said Nadezhda, rising hurriedly. "He
must be asked. Just wait."
She quickly ran from the drawing-room, rustling with her bright yellow
dress, caught Misha by the shoulder behind the door and ran with him
to his room; as she stood there by the door panting with running and
suppressed laughter, she said in a breathless voice:
"It's quite useless to ask you not to listen behind doors. Must I
really be very stern with you?"
Misha, catching her by the waist, with his head against her, laughed
and shook with his efforts to suppress his laughter. She pushed Misha
into his room, sat down on a chair near the door and began to laugh.
"Did you hear what he's thinking of, your Pavel Vassilyevitch?" she
said. "Come with me into the drawing-room and don't you dare to laugh.
I will ask you in their presence and don't you dare say 'yes.' Do you
understand?"
"Oo-hoo," blurted out Misha, and stuck a corner of his handkerchief in
his mouth to stop his laughing, but with little success.
"Cover your face with your handkerchief when you want to laugh," his
sister advised him, and led him by his shoulder into the drawing-room.
There she placed him in an arm-chair and sat down on a chair at his
side. Volodin looked offended and lowered his head like a little ram.
"You see," she said, pointing at her brother, "I've barely dried his
tears, poor boy! I have to be a mother to him, and he has a sudden idea
that I'm going to leave him."
Misha covered his face with his handkerchief. His whole body shook. In
order to hide his laughter he uttered a protracted moan:
"Oo-oo-oo."
Nadezhda embraced him, pinched his hand secretly and said:
"Well, stop crying, my dear, stop crying."
Misha for a moment unexpectedly felt touched and tears came into his
eyes. He lowered his handkerchief and looked angrily at his sister.
"The youngster might suddenly get into a fit," thought Peredonov, "and
begin to bite; human spit, they say, is poisonous."
He moved closer to Volodin, so that in case of danger he could hide
behind him. Nadezhda said to her brother:
"Pavel Vassilyevitch asks for my hand."
"Hand and heart," corrected Peredonov.
"And heart," added Volodin modestly but with dignity.
Misha covered his face with his handkerchief and choking with
suppressed laughter said:
"No, don't marry him. What would become of me?"
Volodin, hurt but agitated, said in a trembling voice:
"I'm surprised, Nadezhda Vassilyevna, that you are asking your brother,
who is besides quite a child. Even if he were a grown-up young man
you might speak for yourself. But at your asking him now, Nadezhda
Vassilyevna, I am not only surprised but shocked."
"To ask little boys seems ridiculous to me," said Peredonov gravely.
"Whom have I to ask? It's all the same to my aunt, and as I'm
responsible for his upbringing how can I marry you. Perhaps you would
treat him harshly. Isn't it so, Mishka, that you're afraid of his
harshness?"
"No, Nadya," said Misha, looking out with one eye from behind his
handkerchief. "I'm not afraid of his harshness. Why should I? But I am
afraid that Pavel Vassilyevitch would spoil me and not allow you to put
me in the corner."
"Believe me, Nadezhda Vassilyevna," said Volodin, pressing his hands
to his heart, "I won't spoil Mishenka. I always think: 'Why should
a boy be spoiled?' He's well fed, well dressed, well shod, as for
spoiling--no! I too can put him into the corner and not spoil him at
all. I can do even more. As you're a girl, that is, a young lady, it's
a little inconvenient to you, but I could easily birch him."
"He's not only going to put me into a corner," said Misha whimpering,
having again covered his face with his handkerchief, "but he'll even
birch me! No, that doesn't suit me. No, Nadya, don't you dare to marry
him."
"Well, do you hear? I decidedly can't," said Nadezhda.
"It seems very strange to me, Nadezhda Vassilyevna, that you're acting
in this way," said Volodin. "I come to you with all my affections and
one might even say with fiery feelings, and you give your brother as an
excuse. If you now give your brother as an excuse, another might give
her sister, a third her nephew, or perhaps some other relative, and so
no one would marry--so that the whole human race would come to an end."
"Don't worry about that, Pavel Vassilyevitch," said Nadezhda, "the
world is not threatened yet by such a possibility. I don't want to
marry without Misha's consent, and he, as you have heard, is not
willing. Besides, as it's clear that you have promised to beat him
straight away, you might also beat me."
"Please, Nadezhda Vassilyevna, surely you don't think that I would
permit myself such a disgraceful action," exclaimed Volodin desperately.
Nadezhda smiled.
"And I myself have no desire to marry," she said.
"Perhaps you think of entering a nunnery?" asked Volodin in an offended
voice.
"More likely you'll join the Tolstoyan sect," corrected Peredonov, "and
manure the fields."
"Why should I go anywhere?" asked Nadezhda coldly, as she rose from her
seat. "I'm perfectly well off here."
Volodin rose also, protruded his lips in a hurt way and said:
"Since Mishenka feels this way towards me and you are on his side, then
I suppose I'd better stop the lessons, for how can I go to the lessons
if Mishenka behaves towards me in this way?"
"Why not?" asked Nadezhda. "That's quite another affair."
Peredonov thought he ought to make yet another effort to prevail upon
the young woman: perhaps she would consent.
He said to her gloomily:
"You'd better think it over well, Nadezhda Vassilyevna--why should you
do it post-haste? He's a good man. He's my friend."
"No," said Nadezhda. "What is there to think about? I thank Pavel
Vassilyevitch very much for the honour, but I really can't."
Peredonov looked angrily at Volodin and rose. He thought that Volodin
was a fool, he couldn't make the young woman fall in love with him.
Volodin stood beside his chair with lowered head. He asked
reproachfully:
"So that means it's all over, Nadezhda Vassilyevna? Ah! If so," said he
waving his hand, "then may God be good to you, Nadezhda Vassilyevna. It
means that is my miserable fate. Ah! A youth loved a maiden and she did
not love him. God sees all! Ah, well, I'll grieve and that's all."
"You're rejecting a good man and you don't know what sort you may get,"
persisted Peredonov.
"Ah!" exclaimed Volodin once more and turned to the door.
But suddenly he decided to be magnanimous and returned to shake hands
with the young woman and even with the juvenile offender Misha.
* * * * *
In the street Peredonov grumbled angrily. All the way Volodin
complained bleatingly in an offended voice.
"Why did you give up your lessons?" growled Peredonov. "You must be a
rich man!"
"Ardalyon Borisitch, I only said that if this is so I ought to give
them up, and she said to me that I needn't give them up, and as I
replied nothing then it follows that she begged me to continue. And
now it all depends upon me--if I like, I'll refuse; if I like, I'll
continue them."
"Why should you refuse?" said Peredonov. "Keep on going as if nothing
had happened."
"Let him at least get something out of this--he'll have less cause for
envy," thought Peredonov.
Peredonov felt terribly depressed. Volodin was not yet settled. "If
I don't keep a look-out on him he may begin plotting with Varvara.
Besides, it's possible that Adamenko will have a grudge against me for
trying to marry her to Volodin. She has relatives in Peterburg; she
might write to them and hurt my chances."
The weather was unpleasant. The sky was cloudy; the crows flew about
cawing. They cawed above Peredonov's head, as if they taunted him and
foreboded new and worse disappointments. Peredonov wrapped his scarf
round his neck and thought that in such weather it was easy to catch
cold.
"What sort of flowers are those, Pavloushka?" he asked as he pointed
out to Volodin some small yellow flowers by a garden fence.
"That's _liutiki_,[1] Ardasha," said Volodin sadly. Peredonov recalled
that many such flowers grew in his own garden, and what a terrible
name they had! Perhaps they were poisonous. One day Varvara would
take a handful of them and boil them instead of tea, and would poison
him--then when the inspector's certificate arrived, she would poison
him and make Volodin take his place. Perhaps they had already agreed
upon it. It was not for nothing that he knew the name of this flower.
In the meantime Volodin was saying:
"Let God be her judge! Why did she humiliate me? She's waiting for an
aristocrat and it doesn't occur to her that there are all sorts of
aristocrats--she might be miserable with one of them; but a simple,
good man might make her happy. And now I'll go to church and put a
candle for her health and pray: May God give her a drunken husband, who
will beat her, who will squander her money and leave her penniless in
the world. Then she will remember me, but it will be too late. She will
dry her tears with her hand and say, 'What a fool I was to reject Pavel
Vassilyevitch. There's no one to direct me now. He was a good man!'"
Touched by his own words, a few tears came into Volodin's eyes and he
wiped them from his sheepish, bulging eyes with his hands.
"You'd better break some of her windows one night," advised Peredonov.
"Well, God be with her," said Volodin sadly. "I might be caught. No,
and what a miserable little boy that is! O Lord, what have I done to
him that he should think of harming me? Haven't I tried hard for him,
and look what mischief he's done me! What do you think of such an
infant; what will become of him? Tell me."
"Yes," said Peredonov savagely, "you couldn't even manage the little
boy. Oh, you lover!"
"Well, what of that?" said Volodin. "Of course I'm a lover. I'll find
another. She needn't think that I'll grieve for her."
"Oh, you lover," Peredonov continued to taunt him. "And he put a new
tie on! How can a chap like you expect to be a gentleman? Lover!"
"Well, I'm the lover and you're the match-maker, Ardasha," argued
Volodin. "You yourself aroused hopes in me and couldn't fulfil them.
Oh, you matchmaker!"
And they began zealously to taunt one another and to argue as if they
were discussing some important business matter.
* * * * *
Nadezhda escorted her visitors to the door and returned to the
drawing-room. Misha was lying on the sofa laughing. His sister pulled
him off the sofa by his shoulders and said:
"But you have forgotten that you oughtn't to listen behind doors."
She lifted her hands and made as if to cross her little fingers at an
angle, a sign for him to go into the corner, but suddenly burst out
laughing, and the little fingers did not come together. Misha threw
himself towards her. They embraced and laughed for a long time.
"All the same," she said, "you ought to go in the corner for listening."
"You ought to let me off," said Misha. "I saved you from that
bridegroom, so you ought to be grateful."
"Who saved whom? You heard how they were talking of giving you a
birching. Now go into the corner."
"Well, I'd better kneel here," said Misha.
He lowered himself on to his knees at his sister's feet and laid his
head in her lap. She caressed him and tickled him. Misha laughed,
scrabbling with his knees on the floor. Suddenly his sister pushed him
from her and sat down on the sofa. Misha remained alone. He stayed
awhile on his knees, and looked questioningly at his sister. She seated
herself more comfortably and picked up a book as if to read, but
watched her brother over it.
"Well, I'm tired now," he said plaintively.
"I'm not keeping you there, you put yourself there," answered Nadezhda,
smiling over her book.
"Well, I've been punished, let me go, please," entreated Misha.
"Did I put you on your knees?" said Nadezhda in a voice of assumed
indifference. "Why do you bother me?"
"I'll not get up until you've forgiven me."
Nadezhda burst out laughing, put the book aside, and taking hold of
Misha's shoulders, pulled him to her. He gave a squeal and threw
himself into her arms exclaiming:
"Pavloushka's bride!"
[1] _Liutiki,_ a sort of buttercup. The word "liuti" means "cruel,
ferocious, violent," which gives the point of Peredonov's reflection.