They had grown into the habit of taking their early tea together.
The morning after their conversation in the fields, Orloff appeared
in his wife's room with a gloomy, disturbed expression on his face.
Felizata had been ill. Matrona was alone in the room, and received her
husband with a radiant smile. She was surprised, however, on seeing his
expression, and inquired anxiously--"What is the matter then? are you
ill?..
"I have nothing the matter with me," he replied dryly, sitting down on
a chair, and drawing towards him the cup of tea which she had poured
out.
"What has happened then?" ... Matrona waited for an answer.
"I have not slept at all, I have been thinking all the night We were
really much too silly yesterday, much too weak with one another. I am
ashamed of it now; that sort of thing leads to no good.... Women profit
by such weak moments to get the better of their husbands. But don't you
imagine you will succeed in that way.... You won't get over me....
That is all I wanted to say to you!"
He repeated all this with a certain emphasis, but without looking at
her. She, on the contrary, never took her eyes off him.
"You are sorry then that you were yesterday so good and so kind to me?"
she asked in a low voice, whilst her lips trembled painfully. "You
regret then that you kissed and caressed me? It is terrible for me to
hear this, very terrible.... Your words cut me to the heart What do you
want to do then? Am I already a burden to you?... Don't you care for me
any more?"
She looked at him searchingly as she spoke these words, and her voice
was bitter and defiant "I did not mean that," said Grigori confusedly.
"I only spoke in a general way.... We lived together in our cellar
... you know yourself what a life it was! Already the recollection of
it even, pains me.... Now we have crept out into the light, and ... I
feel half frightened.... The change all took place so quickly.... I
seem to be a stranger to myself ... and you also seem to be changed....
What-does it all mean?... What will happen next?"
"What will happen next? That's as God wills, Grischka!" said Matrona in
a serious tone. "I only beg this of you; don't regret that you were so
kind to me yesterday."
"All right ... say no more about it!" Grigori interrupted her in the
same gloomy voice. "You see, I have slept over it, and I feel sure
there is no good to be got out of that sort of thing. Our former life
was indeed thorny, but our present one is not full of roses.... Though
I don't drink, nor fight, nor beat you ... still there is...."
Matrona laughed hysterically. "You have no time for such things now!"
"I could soon find time if I wanted to go in for that sort of thing,"
said Orloff, smiling. "But, somehow, I don't understand why, I don't
want to do so. Besides.... I don't know.... I feel so queer somehow or
other...."
He shook his head slowly, and stared fixedly before him.
"God only knows what's the matter with you," said Matrona, sighing
deeply. "You get on very well here, even if you have plenty of work.
The doctors all like you, and you behave so well ... What's the matter
with you then? tell me ... It seems to me you are too restless."
"That's it ... I am too restless!... For I was thinking the whole night
of what Peter Ivanovitch, the student, said lately. He says that all
men are equals.... Well--am I not a man like any other? ... And yet
this Doctor Wasschtschenko, for example, is better than I am, and Peter
Ivanovitch is better, and many others also. I can see for myself that
I am not their equal.... I can feel that I am not worthy to hand them a
glass of water. They cured Mischka Ussoff, and they rejoiced at doing
so ... and I cannot understand that. I cannot see what reason there
is for rejoicing at a man's recovering from illness!... Life is often
worse than cholera pains, if you look facts straight in the face. They
know that as well as I do, and yet they rejoice.... I should like to be
able to feel the same sort of joy as they do; but I cannot, for, as I
have already said, I can't see any cause for rejoicing...."
"It is because they feel pity for mankind," Matrona interrupted. "And
such pity!... It's just the same on the women's side of the Infirmary.
If one of the patients gets better ... good heavens, what a fuss is
made about her!... When the time comes for her to leave they help her
with advice, and give her medicine and money.... I am often moved to
tears when I see it.... They are indeed good people, and are filled
with compassion."
"You talk of shedding tears, but it only makes me wonder ... fills me
with astonishment!..."
He shrugged his shoulders, and rubbed his forehead, looking all the
time at his wife with a puzzled expression.
Suddenly she began to talk eagerly and rapidly, striving to prove to
him that mankind indeed deserved to be treated pitifully. Leaning
forward, and looking tenderly into his face, she talked long and
earnestly, about mankind, and the heavy burden of life it was called on
to bear. He, however, only watched her, thinking to himself--"Just see
how they can talk when they like, these women! Where on earth did she
get all these words from?"
"You, yourself, also have a pitiful heart," she said. "I have heard
you say you would like to destroy the cholera if only you had strength
enough. Why then should you want to destroy it? According to what you
have just said it does more good than harm. As far as you are concerned
it does you no harm--quite the reverse.... Have you not been better off
since we had cholera in the town?"
Orloff burst out laughing.
"That's true! that's true! It has certainly been all the better for me
that the cholera came t Devil take it! The people are dying all around
like flies, and I am all the better off because of it!... Ha!... ha!...
ha!... That's the way of the world! It's enough to drive one mad to
think about it!"
He rose from his chair, and went off to his work; still laughing. As he
went along the corridor the thought crossed his mind again, that it was
certainly a pity no one could hear Matrona's wise talk.
"How cleverly she said it all!... Though she is only a woman, yet she
speaks quite sensibly!"
He started work, still under the impression of this pleasant thought;
though the moans and groans of the patients fell on his ears the moment
he entered the ward.
Every day the world of his sensations enlarged, and at the same time
there grew within him the need of expressing what he thought and felt
It is true he was not yet in a position to formulate all that was
going on within him, and give clear expression to it, for the greater
part of his impressions and thoughts he was not yet able to understand
himself. More especially was he pained by the consciousness that he
was not able, like other people; to rejoice over the good fortune
and well-being of others. There grew within him, however, daily
the desire to do something great, something out of the common, and
thereby attract the attention of the whole world. His position in the
Infirmary seemed to him to be an awkward one; he felt himself to be
between two stools. The doctors and medical students stood above him,
the attendants beneath him; he was not the equal of either. A feeling
of loneliness came over him, and it appeared to him as if fate, in
order to make a sport of him, had tom him away from his own place,
and were whirling him about like a feather in the wind. He felt pity
for himself, and sought out his wife in order that she might console
him. This he did often against his will, for he had an idea that his
candid outspokenness might lower him in the eyes of Matrona. But he
continued to confide in her all the same. He would go to her usually
in a dark, angry or cynical mood, and would leave her feeling consoled
and comforted. Matrona knew just the right words to use. She had no
great command of language, and her words, to some, might have appeared
weak, but they were inspired by conviction, and Grigori observed with
surprise that she obtained more and more influence over his inner life,
that his thoughts turned increasingly towards her, and that he felt
more constantly the need of opening his heart to her.
Matrona also quickly realized what she had become to him, and tried
constantly to strengthen her growing influence over him. Without
her being conscious of it herself, her busy useful life in the
Infirmary had sensibly increased her own self-respect It was not in
her disposition to reflect over the past or to grumble about things,
but when she thought of her former life in the dark cellar, of its
narrow round of cares, of her husband and of her trade, she, in spite
of herself, could not help contrasting that past with her present
condition; and the dim pictures of her former existence melted into an
ever more and more distant and misty background. The authorities at the
Infirmary valued her because of her quickness and willingness, and
every one behaved kindly to her. Being treated as a human being was
such a new experience to her, that her spirits rose, and her enjoyment
of life was heightened.
Once, when she was on night duty, the stout lady doctor began to
question her about her former life. Matrona told her everything quite
openly, and without constraint; then she ceased suddenly, and smiled a
curious sort of smile.
"Why do you smile?" asked the lady doctor.
"I can't help smiling when I think how bitter my life was.... You will
scarcely believe me, but I had no notion then how sad and bitter it
was.... It is only now that I begin to understand."
This looking back on her past life roused a new feeling in Matrona's
breast against her husband. She cared for Grigori as much as ever,
and showed him all the tenderness of a loving wife; but it appeared
to her at the same time that Grigori was guilty toward her. Sometimes
when talking to him she would adopt almost a protective tone, for his
constant restlessness made her feel sorry for him. Now and then a doubt
arose in her mind as to whether it would ever be possible to lead a
quiet, peaceful life with him, though she still held steadfastly to the
belief that Grigori would, in the end, settle down, and throw off his
despondency.
According to the ordinary course of events they ought gradually to
have grown accustomed to each other, and reconciled to their every-day
life in common. They were both young, strong and industrious, and many
in a similar position would have been contented to go on from day to
day, leading the grey, cheerless life of the ordinary worker--the life
of poverty, alternating with starvation--their energies completely
absorbed in the task of providing their daily bread. But this ordinary
existence was rendered impossible by the unrest which Grigori carried
in his heart, and which prevented him from reconciling his inmost soul
with the monotony of a daily task.