Two days had passed, and Raisky had had small opportunity of seeing
Vera alone, though she came to dinner and to tea, and spoke of ordinary
things. Raisky turned once more to his novel, or rather to the plan of
it. He visited Leonti, and did not neglect the Governor and other
friends. But in order to keep watch on Vera he wandered about the park
and the garden. Two days were now gone, he thought, since he sat on the
bench by the precipice, but there were still five days of danger.
Marfinka’s birthday lay two days’ ahead, and on that day Vera would
hardly leave the family circle. On the next Marfinka was to go with her
fiancé and his mother to Kolchino, and Vera would not be likely to leave
Tatiana Markovna alone. By that time the week would be over and the
threatening clouds dispersed.
After dinner Vera asked him to come over to her in the evening, as she
wished him to undertake a commission for her. When he arrived she
suggested a walk, and, as she chose the direction of the fields he
realised that she wished to go to the chapel, and took the field path
accordingly.
As she crossed the threshold, she looked up at the thoughtful face of
the Christ.
“You have sought more powerful aid than mine,” said Raisky. “Moreover,
you will not now go there without me.”
She nodded in assent. She seemed to be seeking strength, sympathy and
support from the glance of the Crucified, but His eyes kept their
expression of quiet thought and detachment.
When she turned her eyes from the picture she reiterated, “I will not
go.” Raisky read on her face neither prayer nor desire; it wore an
expression of weariness, indifference and submission.
He suggested that they should return, and reminded her that she had a
commission for him.
“Will you take the bouquet-holder that I chose the other week for
Marfinka’s birthday to the goldsmith?” she said, handing him her purse.
“I gave him some pearls to set in it, and her name should be engraved.
And could you be up as early as eight o’clock on her birthday?”
“Of course. If necessary, I can stay up all night!”
“I have already spoken to the gardener, who owns the big orangery. Would
you choose me a nice bouquet and send it to me. I have confidence in
your taste.”
“Your confidence in me makes progress, Vera,” he laughed. “You already
trust my taste and my honour.”
“I would have seen to all this myself,” she went on, “but I have not the
strength.”
Next day Raisky took the bouquet holder, and discussed the arrangement
of the flowers with the gardener. He himself bought for Marfinka an
elegant watch and chain, with two hundred roubles which he borrowed from
Tiet Nikonich, for Tatiana Markovna would not have given him so much
money for the purpose, and would have betrayed the secret. In Tiet
Nikonich’s room he found a dressing table decked with muslin and lace,
with a mirror encased in a china frame of flowers and Cupids, a
beautiful specimen of Sèvres work.
“Where did you get this treasure?” cried Raisky, who could not take his
eyes from the thing. “What a lovely piece!”
“It is my gift for Marfa Vassilievna,” said Tiet Nikonich with his kind
smile. “I am glad it pleases you, for you are a connoisseur. Your liking
for it assures me that the dear birthday child will appreciate it as a
wedding gift. She is a lovely girl, just like these roses. The Cupids
will smile when they see her charming face in the mirror. Please don’t
tell Tatiana Markovna of my secret.”
“This beautiful piece must have cost over two thousand roubles, and you
cannot possibly have bought it here.”
“My Grandfather gave five thousand roubles for it, and it was part of my
Mother’s house-furnishing and until now it stood in her bedroom, left
untouched in my birth-place. I had it brought here last month, and to
make sure it should not be broken, six men carried it in alternate
shifts for the whole hundred and fifty versts. I had a new muslin cover
made, but the lace is old; you will notice how yellow it is. Ladies like
these things, although they don’t matter to us.”
“What will Grandmother say?”
“There will be a storm. I do feel rather uneasy about it, but perhaps
she will forgive me. I may tell you, Boris Pavlovich, that I love both
the girls, as if they were my own daughters. I held them on my knee as
babies, and with Tatiana Markovna gave them their first lessons. I tell
you in confidence that I have also arranged a wedding present for Vera
Vassilievna which I hope she will like when the time comes.” He showed
Raisky a magnificent antique silver dinner service of fine workmanship
for twelve persons. “I may confess to you, as you are her cousin, that
in agreement with Tatiana Markovna I have a splendid and a rich marriage
in view for her, for whom nothing can be too good. The finest
_partie_ in this neighbourhood,” he said in a confidential tone,
“is Ivan Ivanovich Tushin, who is absolutely devoted to her, as he well
may be.”
Raisky repressed a sigh and went home where he found Vikentev and his
mother, who had arrived for Marfinka’s birthday, with Paulina Karpovna
and other guests from the town, who stayed until nearly seven o’clock.
Tatiana Markovna and Marfa Egorovna carried on an interminable
conversation about Marfinka’s trousseau and house furnishing. The lovers
went into the garden, and from there to the village. Vikentev carrying a
parcel which he threw in the air and caught again as he walked. Marfinka
entered every house, said good-bye to the women, and caressed the
children. In two cases she washed the children’s faces, she distributed
calico for shirts and dresses, and told two elder children to whom she
presented shoes that it was time they gave up paddling in the puddles.
“God reward you, our lovely mistress, Angel of God!” cried the women in
every yard as she bade them farewell for a fortnight.