Raisky and Tushin had been talking all the evening, and for the first
time in their lives observed one another closely, with the result that
both felt a desire for a closer acquaintance. Tushin asked Raisky to be
his guest for a week, to have a look at the forest, the steam-saw, and
the timber industry. Raisky accepted, and the next day they crossed the
river together in Tushin’s boat.
Vera’s name did not cross their lips. Each was conscious that the other
knew his secret. Raisky in any case had learned of Tushin’s offer, of
his behaviour on that occasion, and of his part in the whole drama from
Vera herself. His jealous prejudices had instantly vanished, and he felt
nothing but esteem and sympathy for Tushin. As he studied the
personality of Vera’s friend, as his fancy did him its usual service of
putting the object, not in itself a romantic one, in the best light, he
admired Tushin’s simplicity and frankness.
After a week spent at “Smoke,” after seeing him at home, in the factory,
in field and forest, after talking through the night with him by the
flickering light of the fire, he understood how Vera’s eye and heart
should have recognised the simple completeness of the man and placed
Tushin side by side with Tatiana Markovna and her sister in her
affections. Raisky himself was attracted to this simple, gentle and yet
strong personality, and would like to have stayed longer at “Smoke,” but
Tatiana Markovna wrote asking him to return without delay as his
presence was necessary at Malinovka.
Tushin offered to drive with him, for company’s sake, as he said; in
reality he wanted to know why Tatiana Markovna had sent for Raisky,
whether there was a new turn in Vera’s affairs, or any service to be
rendered her. He remembered uncomfortably his meeting with Mark, and how
unwillingly he had said that he was going away. Tushin wondered
anxiously whether he had kept his promise, whether he was annoying Vera
in any way.
When Raisky reached Malinovka he hurried straight to Vera. While his
impressions were still fresh, he drew in vivid colours a full length
portrait of Tushin, describing his surroundings and his activities with
sympathetic appreciation.
Vera sighed, perhaps for sorrow that she did not love Tushin more and
differently.
Raisky would have gone on talking about his visit if he had not had a
message from his aunt that she would like to see him immediately. He
asked Vera if she knew why he had been sent for.
“I know something is wrong, but she has not told me, and I don’t like to
ask. Indeed, I fear....”
She broke off, and at that moment Tushin sent in word to know if she
would receive him. She assented.
When Raisky entered her room, Tatiana Markovna dismissed Pashutka and
locked the door. She looked worried and old, and her appearance
terrified Raisky.
“Has something disagreeable happened?” he asked, sitting down opposite
her.
“What is done is done,” she said sadly.
“I am sitting on needles, Grandmother. Tell me quickly.”
“That old thief Tychkov has had his revenge on us both. He wormed out a
tale about me from a crazy old woman, but this has had no special
results, for people are indifferent to the past, and in any case I stand
with one foot in the grave, and don’t care about myself, but Vera--”
“What about Vera, Grandmother?”
“Her secret has ceased to be a secret. Rumours are going about the town.
At first I did not understand why on Sunday at church, the
Vice-governor’s wife asked me twice after Vera’s health, and why two other
ladies listened curiously for my answers. I looked round, and read on
every face the same question, what was the matter with Vera? I said she
had been ill, but was better again. Then there were further questions,
and I extricated myself with difficulty. The real misfortune, thank God,
is concealed. I learned from Tiet Nikonich yesterday, that the gossip is
on the wrong track. Ivan Ivanovich is suspected. Do you remember that on
Marfinka’s birthday he said not a word, but sat there like a mute, until
Vera came in, when he suddenly woke up. The guests, of course, noticed
it. In any case it has long been no secret that he loves Vera, and he
has no arts of concealment. People said that they vanished into the
garden, that Vera went later to the old house and Tushin drove away. Do
you know what he came for?”
Raisky nodded.
“Vera and Tushin are coupled together in everybody’s mouth.”
“You said that Tychkov had dragged me in too.”
“Paulina Karpovna did that. She went out to find you in the evening when
you were out late with Vera. You said something to her, apparently in
jest, which she understood in her own way, and she has involved you.
They say she had alienated you from Vera, with whom you were supposed to
be in love, and she keeps on repeating that she dragged you from the
precipice. What had you to do with her, and what is the tale about Vera?
Perhaps you had been in her confidence for a long time, and you both
kept silence with me--this is what your freedom has brought you to.” She
sighed.
“That silly old bird got off too easily,” said Raisky, clenching his
fists. “To-morrow I will have it out with her.”
“You have found someone whom you can call to account. What is the use of
reproaching her? She is ridiculous, and no one cares what she says. But
the old chatterbox Tychkov has established that on Marfinka’s birthday,
Vera and Tushin had a long conversation in the avenue, that the day
before she stayed out far into the night, and was subsequently ill, and
he has put his own construction on Paulina Karpovna’s tale. He is
trumpeting it in the town that it was not with you, but with Tushin that
she was walking about at night. Then to crown all a drunken old woman
made revelations about me. Tychkov has extracted everything....”
Tatiana’s eyes dropped, and her face flushed for a moment.
“That is another story,” said Raisky seriously, striding up and down the
room. “The lesson you gave him was not sufficient. I will try a
repetition of it.”
“What do you mean? God forbid that you should. You will try to prove
that the tale is not true, which is not difficult; it is only necessary
to know where Ivan Ivanovich spent the evening before Marfinka’s
birthday. Supposing he was in his forest, then people will ask who was
with Vera in the park. The Kritzki woman saw you at the top of the
precipice, and Vera was--”
“What is to be done?” asked Raisky in fear for Vera.
“God’s judgments are put in the mouths of men,” whispered Tatiana
Markovna sadly, “and they must not be despised. We must humble ourselves,
and our cup is apparently not yet full.”
Conscious of the difficulties of their position, both were silent.
Vera’s retired way of life, Tushin’s devotion to her, her independence
of her aunt’s authority, were familiar and accustomed facts. But
Raisky’s attentions to her wrapped this simple situation in an
uncertainty, which Paulina Karpovna had noticed, and had naturally not
kept to herself. It was not only Tatiana Markovna who had marked out
Tushin as Vera’s probable husband. The town expected two great events,
Marfinka’s marriage with Vikentev which was about to take place, and, in
no distant future, Tushin’s marriage with Vera. Then suddenly there were
these incomprehensible, unexpected happenings. On her sister’s birthday
Vera appeared among the guests only for a moment, hardly spoke to anyone,
then vanished into the garden with Tushin, and afterwards to the old
house, while Tushin left without even saying good-bye to his hostess.
Paulina Markovna had related how Raisky, on the eve of the family
festival, had gone out for a walk with Vera.
Following on this Vera had fallen ill, then Tatiana Markovna, no one was
admitted to the house, Raisky wandered about like one possessed, and the
doctors gave no definite report.
There was no word or sign of a wedding. Why had Tushin not made his
offer, and if he made it, why was it not accepted? People surmised that
Raisky had entrapped Vera; if so, why did he not marry her. They were
determined to know who was wrong and who was right, and to give judgment
accordingly. Both Tatiana Markovna and Raisky were conscious of all this,
and feared the verdict for Vera’s sake.
“Grandmother,” said Raisky at last, “you must tell Ivan Ivanovich this
yourself, and be guided by what he says. I know his character now, and
am confident that he will decide on the right course. He loves Vera, and
cares more for what happens to her than to himself. He came over the
Volga with me because your letter to me made him anxious about Vera.
When you have talked this over with him, I will go to Paulina Karpovna,
and perhaps see Tychkov as well.”
“I am determined you shall not meet Tychkov.”
“I must,” replied Raisky.
“I will not have it, Boris. No good can come of it. I will follow your
advice and speak to Ivan Ivanovich; then we will see whether you need go
to Paulina Karpovna. Ask Ivan Ivanovich to come here, but say not a word
to Vera. She has heard nothing so far, and God grant that she never
will.”
Raisky went to Vera, and his place with Tatiana Markovna was taken by
Tushin.
Tatiana Markovna could not disguise her agitation when Ivan Ivanovich
entered her room. He made his bow in silence.
“How did you find Vera?” she asked, after a pause.
“She seemed to be well and calm.”
“God grant that she is! But how much trouble all this has caused you,”
she added in a low voice, trying to avoid his eyes.
“What does that matter, if Vera Vassilievna has peace.”
“She was beginning to recover, and I too felt happier, so long as our
distress was concealed.” Tushin started as if he had been shot. “Ivan
Ivanovich,” continued Tatiana Markovna, “there is all sorts of gossip in
the town. Borushka and I in a moment of anger tore the mask from that
hypocrite Tychkov--you have no doubt heard the story. Such an outburst
ill fitted my years, but he had been blowing his own trumpet so
abominably that it was unendurable. Now he, in his turn, is tearing the
mask from us.”
“From you? I don’t understand.”
“When he gossipped about me, no one took any heed, for I am already
counted with my fathers. But with Vera it is different, and they have
dragged your name into the affair.”
“Mine? with Vera Vassilievna’s? Please tell me what the talk is.”
When Tatiana Markovna had told the story he asked what she wished him to
do.
“You must clear yourself,” she said. “You have been beyond reproach all
your life, and must be again. As soon as Marfinka’s wedding is over I
shall settle on my estate at Novosselovo for good. You should make haste
to inform Tychkov that you were not in the town on the day before
Marfinka’s fête-day, and consequently could not have been at the
precipice.”
“It ought to be done differently.”
“Do just as you like, Ivan Ivanovich. But what else can you say?”
“I would rather not meet Tychkov. He may have heard through others that
I certainly was in the town; I was spending a couple of days with a
friend. I shall spread it about that I did visit the precipice on that
evening with Vera Vassilievna, although that is not the case. I might
add that I had offered her my hand and had met with a refusal, by which
you, Tatiana Markovna, who gave me your approval, were aggrieved; that
Vera Vassilievna felt bitterly the breach of our friendship. One might
even speak of a distant hope ... of a promise....”
“People will not be kept quiet by that, for a promise cannot always
remain a promise.”
“It will be forgotten, Tatiana Markovna, especially if you, as you say,
leave the neighbourhood. If it is not forgotten, and you and Vera
Vassilievna are further disturbed, it is still possible,” he added in a
low tone, “to accept my proposal.”
“Ivan Ivanovich,” said Tatiana Markovna reproachfully, “do you think
Vera and I are capable of such a thing? Are we to avail ourselves of
your past affection and your generosity merely to still malicious gossip,
to stifle talk for which there is a basis of truth. Neither you nor Vera
would find happiness in that way.”
“There is no question of generosity, Tatiana Markovna. If a forest
stands in one’s way, it must be hewn down; bold men see no barrier in
the sea, and hew their way through the rock itself. Here there is no
obstacle of forest, sea, or rock. I am bridging the precipice, and my
feet will not tremble when I cross the bridge. Give me Vera Vassilievna.
No devil should disturb my happiness or her peace of mind, if she lived
to be a hundred. She will be my Tsaritsa, and in the peace that reigns
in my forest will forget all that now oppresses her. You don’t yet
understand me!”
“I do,” whispered Tatiana Markovna tearfully, “but the decision does not
lie with me.”
He passed his hands across his eyes and through his thick hair, then
seized her hands.
“Forgive me, I forgot the important point. It is not mountain, forest or
sea, but an insurmountable obstacle that confronts me--Vera Vassilievna
is not willing. She looks forward to a happier future than I can offer
her. You sent for me to let me know of the gossip there is going about,
in the view that it must be painful, didn’t you? Do not let it disturb
either yourself or Vera Vassilievna, but take her away, so that no word
of it penetrates to her ears. In the meantime I will spread in the town
the account we have discussed. That man,” he could not bring Mark’s name
over his lips, “leaves the town to-morrow or the day after, and all will
be forgotten. As for me, since it is decided that Vera Vassilievna is
not to be my wife, it does not matter whether I die or live.”
Tatiana Markovna, pale and trembling, interrupted him.
“She will be your wife,” she said, “when she has learnt to forget. I
understand for the first time how you love Vera.”
“Do not lure me on with false hopes, for I am not a boy. Who can give me
security that Vera Vassilievna will ever....”
“I give you that security.”
His eyes shone with gratitude as he took her hand. Tatiana Markovna felt
that she had gone too far, and had promised more than she could perform.
She withdrew her hand, and said soothingly: “She is still very unhappy,
and would not understand at present. First of all she must be left
alone.”
“I will wait and hope,” he said in a low tone. “If only I might, like
Vikentev, call you Grandmother.”
She signed to him to leave her. When he had gone she dropped on to her
chair, and covered her face with her handkerchief.