At ten o’clock the big bell in the village church began to sound for
Mass. Tatiana Markovna’s household was full of stir and bustle. The
horses were being harnessed to the calèche and to an old fashioned
carriage. The coachmen, already drunk, donned their new dark blue
caftans, and their hair shone with grease. The women servants made a gay
picture in their many coloured cotton dresses, head and neck kerchiefs,
and the maids employed in the house diffused a scent of cloves within a
ten yards radius. The cooks had donned their white caps in the early
morning, and had been incessantly busy in the preparation of the
breakfast, dinner and supper to be served to the family and their guests,
the kitchen, and the servants the visitors brought with them.
Tatiana Markovna had begun to make her toilet at eight o’clock, as soon
as she had given her orders; she descended to the hall to greet her
guests with the reserved dignity of a great lady, and the gentle smile
of a happy mother and a hospitable hostess. She had set a small simple
cap on her grey hair; the light brown silk dress that Raisky had brought
from St. Petersburg suited her well, and round her neck she wore
beautiful old lace; the Turkish shawl lay on the arm-chair in her room.
Now she was preparing to drive to Mass, and walked slowly up and down
the hall with crossed hands, awaiting the assembly of the household. She
hardly noticed the bustle around her, as the servants went hither and
thither, sweeping the carpets, cleaning the lamps, dusting the mirrors,
and taking the covers from the furniture. She went first to one window
and then to the other, looking out meditatively on the road, the garden
and the courtyards.
Vikentev’s mother was dressed in pearl grey with dark lace trimmings.
Vikentev himself had been in his dress coat and white gloves from eight
o’clock onwards.
Tatiana Markovna’s pride and joy knew no bounds when Marfinka appeared,
radiating gaiety from her bright eyes. While she slept the walls of her
two rooms had been decorated with flowers and garlands. She was going to
put on her simple blouse when she woke, but instead there lay on the
chair by her bed a morning gown of lace and muslin with pink ribbons.
She had not had time to give vent to her admiration when she saw on two
other chairs two lovely dresses, one pink and one blue, for her to make
her choice for the gala day.
She jumped up, and threw on her new morning gown without waiting to put
on her stockings, and when she approached her mirror she found a new
surprise in the gifts that lay on her toilet table. She did not know
which to look at, or which to take up.
First she opened a lovely rosewood casket which contained a complete
dressing set, flasks, combs, brushes and endless trifles in glass and
silver, with a card bearing the name of her future Mama. Beside it lay
cases of different sizes. She threw a quick glance in the mirror,
smoothed back her abundant hair from her eyes, seized all the cases in a
heap, and sat down on the bed to look at them. She hesitated to open
them, and finally began with the smallest, which contained an emerald
ring, which she hastily put on her finger. A larger case held earrings
which she inserted in her ears and admired in the glass from the bed.
There were massive gold bracelets, set with rubies and diamonds, which
she also put on. Last of all she opened the largest case, and looked
astonished and dazzled at its splendid contents: a chain of strung
diamonds, twenty-one to match her years. The accompanying card said:
“With this gift I confide to you another, a costly one, my best of
friends--myself. Take care of him. Your lover, Vikentev.”
She laughed, looked round, kissed the card, blushed, sprang from the bed
and laid the case in her cupboard, in the box where she kept her bonbons.
There was still another case on the table, containing Raisky’s gift of a
watch, whose enamel cover bore her monogram, and its chain.
She looked at it with wide eyes, threw another glance at the other gifts
and the garlanded walls, then threw herself on a chair and wept hot
tears of joy. “Oh, God!” she sobbed happily. “Why does everyone love me
so. I do no good to anyone, and never shall.”
And so, undressed, without shoes and stockings, but adorned with rings,
bracelets, diamond earrings, she tearfully sought her aunt, who caressed
and kissed her darling when she heard the cause of her tears.
“God loves you, Marfinka, because you love others, because all who see
you are infected by your happiness.”
Marfinka dried her tears.
“Nikolai Andreevich loves me, but he is my fiancé; so does his Mama, but
so does my cousin, Boris Pavlovich, and what am I to him?”
“The same as you are to everyone. No one can look at you and not be
happy; you are modest, pure and good, obedient to your Grandmother.
Spendthrift,” she murmured in an aside, to hide her pleasure. “Such a
costly gift! You shall hear of this, Borushka!”
“Grandmother! As if Boris Pavlovich could have guessed it. I have wanted
a little enamelled watch like this for a long time.”
“You haven’t asked your Grandmother why she gives you nothing?”
Marfinka shut her mouth with a kiss.
“Grandmother,” she said, “love me always, if you want to make me happy.”
“With my love I will give you my enduring gift,” she said, making the
sign of the cross over Marfinka. “So that you shall not forget my
blessing,” she went on, feeling in her pocket--“You have given me two
dresses, Grandmother, but who decorated my room so magnificently?”
“Your fiancé and Paulina Karpovna sent the things yesterday, and kept
them out of your sight. Vassilissa and Pashutka hung the garlands up at
daybreak. The dresses are part of your trousseau, and there are more to
follow.” Then taking from its case a gold cross with four large diamonds
she hung it round the girl’s neck, and gave her a plain, simple bracelet
with the inscription: “From Grandmother to her Grandchild,” and with the
name and the date.
Marfinka kissed her aunt’s hand, and nearly wept once more.
“All that Grandmother has, and she has many things, will be divided
between you and Veroshka. Now make haste.”
“How lovely you are to-day, Grandmother. Cousin is right. Tiet Nikonich
will fall in love with you.”
“Nonsense, chatterbox. Go to Veroshka, and tell her not to be late for
Mass. I would have gone myself, but am afraid of the steps.”
“Directly, Grandmother,” cried Marfinka, and hastened to change her
dress.
Vera lay unconscious for half an hour before she came to herself. The
cold wind that streamed through the open window fell on her face, and
she sat up to look around her. Then she rose, shut the window, walked
unsteadily to the bed, sank down on it, and drawing the cover over
herself, lay motionless.
Overpowered with weakness she fell into a deep sleep, with her hair
loose over the pillow. She slept heavily for about three hours until she
was awakened by the noise in the courtyard, the many voices, the
creaking of wheels and the sound of bells. She opened her eyes, looked
round, and listened.
There was a light knock at the door, but Vera did not stir. There was a
louder knock, but she remained motionless. At the third she got up,
glanced in the glass, and was terrified by the sight of her own face.
She pushed her hair into order, threw a shawl over her shoulders, picked
up Marfinka’s bouquet from the floor, and laid it on the table. There
was another knock and she opened the door. Marfinka, gay and lovely,
gleaming like a rainbow in her pretty clothes, flew into the room. When
she saw her sister she stood still in amazement.
“What is the matter with you, Veroshka? Aren’t you well?”
“Not quite. I offer you my congratulations.”
The sisters kissed one another.
“How lovely you are, and how beautifully dressed!” said Vera, making a
faint attempt to smile. Her lips framed one, but her eyes were like the
eyes of a corpse that no one has remembered to close. But she felt she
must control herself, and hastened to present Marfinka with the bouquet.
“What a lovely bouquet! And what is this?” asked Marfinka as she felt a
hard substance, and discovered the holder set with her name and the
pearls. “You, too, Veroshka! How is it you all love me so? I love you
all, how I love you! But how and when you found out that I did, I cannot
think.”
Vera was not capable of answering, but she caressed Marfinka’s shoulder
affectionately.
“I must sit down,” she said. “I have slept badly through the night.”
“Grandmother calls you to Mass.”
“I cannot, darling. Tell her I am unwell, and cannot leave the house
to-day.”
“What! you are not coming?”
“I shall stay in bed. Perhaps I caught cold yesterday. Tell
Grandmother.”
“We will come to you.”
“You would only disturb me.”
“Then we shall send everything over. Ah, Veroshka, people have sent me
so many presents, and flowers and bonbons. I must show them to you,” and
she ran over a list of them.
“Yes, show me everything; perhaps I will come later,” said Vera absently.
“Another bouquet?” asked Marfinka, pointing to the one that lay on the
floor. “For whom? How lovely!”
“For you too,” said Vera, turning paler. She picked a ribbon hastily
from a drawer and fastened the bouquet with it. Then she kissed her
sister, and sank down on the divan.
“You are really ill. How pale you are! Shall I tell Grandmother, and let
her send for the doctor? How sad that it should be on my birthday. The
day is spoiled for me!”
“It will pass. Don’t say a word to Grandmother. Don’t frighten her.
Leave me now, for I must rest.”
At last Marfinka went. Vera shut the door after her, and lay down on the
divan.