Sasha left home after lunch and did not return at the appointed time,
at seven; Kokovkina was worried:
"May God preserve him from meeting one of his masters in the street at
a forbidden time! He'll be punished and I shall feel uncomfortable,"
she thought. Quiet boys always lived at her house and did not wander
about at night. Kokovkina went to look for Sasha. Where else could he
be except at the Routilovs'.
As ill luck would have it, Liudmilla that evening had forgotten to lock
the door. Kokovkina entered, and what did she see? Sasha stood before
the mirror in a woman's dress, waving a fan. Liudmilla was laughing and
arranging ribbons at his brightly-coloured belt.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Kokovkina in horror. "What's this? I was
worried and came to look for him, and here he is acting a comedy. What
a disgrace for him to dress himself in a skirt. And aren't you ashamed,
Liudmilla Platonovna?"
Liudmilla was for a moment very embarrassed because of the suddenness
of the thing, but soon recovered herself. She embraced Kokovkina with a
laugh, sat her in a chair and invented an explanation:
"We are going to have a play at home--I shall be a boy and he'll be a
girl and it'll be very amusing."
Sasha stood flushed and terrified, with tears in his eyes.
"What nonsense!" said Kokovkina angrily, "he ought to be studying his
lessons and not waste his time play-acting. What will you think of
next! Dress yourself at once, Aleksandr, and march home with me."
Liudmilla laughed loudly and gaily and kissed Kokovkina--and the old
woman thought that the happy girl was very child-like, and that Sasha
obediently carried out all her whims. Liudmilla's laughter, at this
moment, showed this to be only a simple childish prank, for which
they would only have to be lectured a little. And Kokovkina grumbled,
assuming an angry face, but her feelings were already calmed down.
Sasha quickly redressed himself behind the screen, where Liudmilla's
bed stood. Kokovkina took him off, and scolded him all the way home.
Sasha felt ashamed and frightened and did not attempt to justify
himself.
"And what will happen at home?" he thought timidly. At home, Kokovkina
treated him sternly for the first time: she ordered him to get down on
his knees. But Sasha had barely been in that position for a few moments
when Kokovkina, softened by his repentant face and silent tears,
released him. She said grumblingly:
"What a little lady-killer, you are! Your perfumes can be smelt a mile
off!"
Sasha gracefully bent over and kissed her hand--and the courtesy of the
punished boy touched her even more.
* * * * *
In the meantime a storm was gathering over Sasha. Varvara and Grushina
composed and sent to Khripatch an anonymous letter to the effect that
the schoolboy, Pilnikov, had been fascinated by the Routilov girl,
that he spent whole evenings with her rather questionably. Khripatch
collected a recent conversation. One evening at the house of the
Marshal of the Nobility someone had thrown out an insinuation--which no
one had taken up--about a girl who was in love with a schoolboy. The
conversation had immediately passed to other subjects: in Khripatch's
presence, everyone, acting on the unwritten law of people accustomed
to good society, considered this an extremely awkward theme for
discussion, and they assumed that this topic was not to be mentioned
in the presence of women and that the rumour itself was trivial and
very unlikely. Khripatch, of course, had noticed this but he was not
so naive as to ask anyone. He was fully confident that he would know
all about it soon, that all information came of itself in one way or
another, but always in good season. Well, here was a letter which
contained the expected information.
Khripatch did not for a moment believe that Pilnikov was guilty, and
that his relations with Liudmilla were improper.
"This," he thought, "is one of Peredonov's stupid inventions and is
nourished by Grushina's envy and spitefulness. But this letter shows
that certain undesirable rumours are current, which might cast a
reflection on the good name of the _gymnasia_ entrusted to me. And
therefore measures must be taken."
First of all Khripatch invited Kokovkina to discuss with him the
circumstances which had helped to give rise to these rumours.
Kokovkina already knew what was the trouble. She had been informed
even more bluntly than the Head-Master. Grushina had waited for her in
the street, entered into conversation, and told her that Liudmilla had
already managed to corrupt Sasha. Kokovkina was dumbfounded. When she
got home she showered reproaches upon Sasha. She was all the more vexed
because this had happened almost before her eyes, and because Sasha
had gone to the Routilovs' with her knowledge. Sasha pretended not to
understand anything and he asked:
"What have I done wrong?"
Kokovkina was at a loss for a moment.
"What wrong? Don't you know yourself? Didn't I find you in a skirt not
long ago? Have you forgotten, you shameless boy?"
"Yes, but what was especially wrong with that? And didn't you punish me
for it? It wasn't as if I'd stolen the skirt!"
"Hark how he talks!" said Kokovkina in a distraught way. "I punished
you, but not enough apparently."
"Well, punish me again," said Sasha defiantly, with the look of a
person unjustly treated. "You forgave me yourself, and now it wasn't
enough. I didn't ask you to forgive me--I would have knelt all the
evening. And what's the good of scolding me all the time?"
"Yes, and everyone in town is talking about you and your
Liudmillotchka."
"And what are they saying?" asked Sasha in an innocently inquisitive
tone of voice.
Kokovkina was again at a loss.
"It's clear enough what they're saying! You know perfectly well what
might be said of you. Very little that's good, you may be sure. You're
up to mischief with your Liudmillotchka--that's what they're saying."
"Well, I won't get up to mischief again," Sasha promised as calmly as
if the conversation concerned a game of "touch."
He assumed an expression of innocence, but his heart was heavy.
He asked Kokovkina what they were saying and was afraid that he
would hear it was something unpleasant. What could they be saying?
Liudmillotchka's room faced the garden; it could not be seen from the
street. Besides, Liudmillotchka always lowered the blinds. And if
anyone had looked in, what could they say? Perhaps something annoying
and insulting. Or perhaps they were only saying that he often went
there.
And here on the next day Kokovkina received an invitation to go and see
the Head-Master. The old woman was distraught. She did not even mention
it to Sasha, but at the appointed time went quickly on her errand.
Khripatch kindly and gently informed her of the anonymous letter he had
received. She began to cry.
"Be calm, we're not accusing you of anything," said Khripatch. "We
know you too well. Of course, you'll have to look after him a little
more rigorously. But I want you to tell me now what actually has taken
place."
Kokovkina came home with more reproaches for Sasha.
"I shall write to your aunt," she said, crying.
"I haven't done anything. Let Aunt come, I'm not afraid," said Sasha,
and he began to cry also.
The next day Khripatch asked Sasha to come and see him and asked him
dryly and sternly:
"I would like to know what sort of an acquaintance you have been
cultivating in the town."
Sasha looked at the Head-Master with deceptive innocence and tranquil
eyes.
"What sort of an acquaintance?" he said. "Olga Vassilyevna knows that I
only go to my companions and to the Routilovs."
"Yes, precisely," continued Khripatch. "What do you do at the
Routilovs?"
"Nothing in particular," replied Sasha with the same innocent look, "we
mostly read. The Routilov sisters are fond of poetry. And I'm always
home at seven o'clock."
"Perhaps not always?" asked Khripatch, fixing on Sasha a glance which
he tried to make piercing.
"Yes, I was late once," said Sasha with the calm frankness of an
innocent boy. "And Olga Vassilyevna gave it to me. But after that I
wasn't late again."
Khripatch was silent. Sasha's calm answers left him rather nonplussed.
In any case it would be necessary to give him a reprimand, but
how and for what? He was afraid that he might suggest to the boy
unwholesome thoughts which--so Khripatch believed--he had not had
before; or that he might offend the boy; but he wanted to remove any
unpleasantness which might in the future come from this acquaintance.
Khripatch thought that an educator's business was a very difficult
and responsible matter, especially if you have the honour of
being the head of an educational establishment. This difficult,
responsible business of an educator! This banal definition gave wings
to Khripatch's almost drooping thoughts. He began to talk quickly,
precisely and uninterestingly. Sasha caught only a phrase here and
there:
"Your first duty as a pupil is to learn ... you should not be attracted
by society however pleasant and irreproachable ... in any case I should
say that the society of boys of your own age would be preferable ...
you must keep high your own reputation and that of your educational
institution.... Finally, I may say candidly that I have reasons to
suppose that your relations with young ladies have a character of great
freedom unpermissible at your age, and altogether not in accordance
with generally accepted rules of propriety."
Sasha began to cry. He felt distressed that anyone could think and talk
of dear Liudmillotchka as of a person with whom you could take improper
liberties.
"Upon my word, there was nothing wrong," he assured the Head-Master.
"We only read, went for walks and played--well, we ran sometimes--we
did nothing else."
Khripatch slapped him on the back and said in a dry voice which he
tried to make hearty:
"Listen, Pilnikov...."
(Why shouldn't he sometimes call this boy Sasha! Was it because it was
not official and there was, as yet, no ministerial circular?)
"I believe you when you say that nothing wrong has happened, but all
the same you had better put an end to your frequent visits. Believe me,
it would be better. I speak to you not only as your schoolmaster and
official head, but also as your friend."
Nothing remained for Sasha to do but to make his bow, to thank
the Head-Master, and to obey. And Sasha from this time on went to
Liudmilla's only for five or ten minutes at a time--but still he tried
to go every day. It vexed him to be able to make only such short
visits and he vented his annoyance on Liudmilla herself. He often
called her now "Liudmillka," "silly fool," "Balaam's ass," and he even
struck her. But Liudmilla only laughed at it all.
* * * * *
The report spread about town that the actors of the local theatre were
going to organise a masked ball at the Club House, with prizes for
the best man's and the best woman's costumes. There were exaggerated
rumours about the prize. It was said that the best-dressed lady would
receive a cow and the best-dressed man a bicycle. These rumours
excited the town people. Each one was eager to win--the prizes were
so considerable. The costumes were prepared in haste. No expense was
spared. People hid their costumes even from their nearest friends
so that their brilliant idea might not be stolen. When the printed
announcement of the masked ball appeared--huge bills, pasted on fences
and sent out to important tradesmen--it turned out that they were not
giving a cow and a bicycle but only a fan to the lady and an album to
the man. This vexed and disenchanted those who had been preparing for
the ball. They began to grumble. They said:
"It's a waste of money."
"It's simply ridiculous--such prizes."
"They ought to have let us know at once."
"It's only in our town that the public can be treated like this."
Nevertheless all the preparations went on: it wasn't much of a prize,
but still it would be flattering to win it.
The amount of the prize did not interest either Darya or Liudmilla.
Much they wanted a cow! What a rarity a fan was! And who was going
to award the prizes? We know what taste these judges have! But both
sisters were captivated by the idea of sending Sasha to the masked ball
in a woman's dress, to fool the whole town and to arrange so that the
lady's prize should go to him. Valeria tired to look as if she agreed
to it. It was Liudmillotchka's little friend, he was not coming to see
her, but she could not decide to quarrel with her two elder sisters.
She only said with a contemptuous smile:
"He won't dare."
"Well," said Darya, "we shall dress him up so that no one will
recognise him."
And when the sisters told Sasha about their project and Liudmillotchka
said to him: "We will dress you up as a girl," Sasha jumped up and down
and shouted with joy. He was delighted with the idea, especially as no
one would know--it would be fine to fool everyone.
They decided at once that they would dress Sasha as a Geisha. The
sisters kept their idea in the strictest secrecy and did not even tell
Larissa or their brother. Liudmilla herself made the costume from the
design on the label of Korilopsis: it was a long full dress of yellow
silk on red velvet; she sewed a bright pattern on the dress, consisting
of large flowers of fantastic shape. The girls made a fan out of thin
Japanese paper, with figures, on bamboo sticks, and a parasol out
of thin rose silk with a bamboo handle. They bought rose coloured
stockings and wooden slippers with little ridges underneath. The artist
Liudmilla painted a Geisha mask: it was a yellowish but agreeable
thin face, with a slight motionless smile, oblique eyes and a small,
narrow mouth. They had only to get the wig from Peterburg---black, with
smooth, arranged hair.
Time was needed to fit the costume and Sasha could only come in
snatches and not every day. But they managed it. Sasha ran off at
night by way of the window, when Kokovkina was asleep. It went off
successfully.
Varvara also was preparing for the masked ball. She brought a stupid
looking mask, and she didn't worry about costume--she dressed herself
as a cook. She hung a skimmer at her waist and put a white cap on her
head, her arms were bare to the elbow and very heavily rouged--a cook
straight from the hearth--and the costume was ready. If she got the
prize, so much the better; if she didn't, she could get on without it.
Grushina dressed herself as Diana. Varvara laughed and asked:
"Are you going to put on a collar?"
"Why a collar?" asked Grushina in astonishment.
"I thought you were going to dress up as the dog, Dianka," explained
Varvara.
"What a notion!" replied Grushina with a laugh, "not Dianka, but the
Goddess, Diana."
Varvara and Grushina dressed for the ball at Grushina's house.
Grushina's costume was excessively scanty: bare arms and shoulders,
bare neck, bare chest, her legs bare to the knee, light slippers, and
a light dress of linen with a red border against the white flesh--it
was quite a short dress, but broad with many folds. Varvara said with a
smile:
"You aren't over-dressed!"
Grushina replied with a vulgar wink:
"It'll attract the boys!"
"But why so many folds?" asked Varvara.
"I can fill them with sweets for my devilkins," explained Grushina.
All of Grushina that was so boldly displayed was handsome--but what
contradictions. On her skin were flea-bites, her manners were coarse
and her talk was insufferably banal. Once more abused bodily beauty!
* * * * *
Peredonov thought that the masked ball was planned on purpose to trap
him. But he went, not in costume but in a frock coat, to see for
himself how plots are devised.
* * * * *
The thought of the masked ball delighted Sasha for many days. But
later, doubts began to assail him. How could he get away from home,
especially now after these recent annoyances. It would be a calamity if
it were found out at the _gymnasia_ and he would be expelled.
One of the form masters, a young man so liberal that he could not call
the cat "Vaska," but called it "the cat Vassily," had recently made a
significant observation to Sasha when he gave out the marks.
"Look here, Pilnikov, you'll have to pay more attention to your work."
"But I haven't any twos," said Sasha indifferently.
His heart fell--what would he say next? No, nothing. He was silent and
only looked sternly at Sasha.
On the day of the masked ball Sasha felt that he would not have the
courage to go. It was terrible. There was only one thing, the costume
was ready at the Routilovs'--should it all be for nothing? And should
all the plans and dreams be in vain? And Liudmillotchka would cry. No,
he must go.
His recently acquired habit of dissembling aided Sasha from betraying
his agitation before Kokovkina. Luckily, the old woman went to bed
early. And Sasha also went to bed early--to keep away suspicion he put
his upper clothes on a chair near the door and placed his boots just
outside the door.
There was nothing for him to do now but to go--which was the most
difficult part of the matter. He had only to follow the same path as
when he went to have his costume fitted. Sasha put on a light summer
blouse--it hung in the wardrobe in his room--and light house shoes and
he carefully crept out of the window into the street, choosing a moment
when there were no footsteps or voices in hearing. A small drizzle was
falling. It was muddy, cold and dark. Every moment Sasha was afraid
he would be recognised. He took off his cap and shoes, threw them
back into his room, turned up his trousers, and ran, jumping over the
pavements, slippery with rain. It was difficult to see a face in the
dark, especially of someone running, and whoever met him would think
he was an ordinary boy sent on an errand.
* * * * *
Valeria and Liudmilla had made for themselves unoriginal but artistic
costumes; Liudmilla dressed herself as a gipsy, Valeria as a Spanish
woman. Liudmilla wore bright red rags of silk and velvet, while the
thin, frail Valeria wore black silk and lace, and had a black lace fan
in her hand. Darya did not make herself a new costume, she kept last
year's, that of a Turkish woman. She said:
"It isn't worth while making a new one!"
When Sasha arrived all three girls began to dress him. The wig worried
Sasha most of all.
"Suppose it should come off?" he kept repeating timorously.
At last they strengthened the wig with ribbons tied under the chin.