Princess Anna Chechevinski for the last time looked at the home of her
girlhood, over which the St. Petersburg twilight was descending.
Defying the commands of her mother, the traditions of her family, she
had decided to elope with the man of her choice. With a last word of
farewell to her maid, she wrapped her cloak round her and disappeared
into the darkness.
The maid's fate had been a strange one. In one of the districts beyond
the Volga lived a noble, a bachelor, luxuriously, caring only for his
own amusement. He fished, hunted, and petted the pretty little
daughter of his housekeeper, one of his serfs, whom he vaguely
intended to set free. He passed hours playing with the pretty child,
and even had an old French governess come to give her lessons. She
taught little Natasha to dance, to play the piano, to put on the airs
and graces of a little lady. So the years passed, and the old nobleman
obeyed the girl's every whim, and his serfs bowed before her and
kissed her hands. Gracefully and willfully she queened it over the
whole household.
Then one fine day the old noble took thought and died. He had
forgotten to liberate his housekeeper and her daughter, and, as he was
a bachelor, his estate went to his next of kin, the elder Princess
Chechevinski. Between the brother and sister a cordial hatred had
existed, and they had not seen one another for years.
Coming to take possession of the estate, Princess Chechevinski carried
things with a high hand. She ordered the housekeeper to the cow house,
and carried off the girl Natasha, as her daughter's maid, to St.
Petersburg, from the first hour letting her feel the lash of her
bitter tongue and despotic will. Natasha had tried in vain to dry her
mother's tears. With growing anger and sorrow she watched the old
house as they drove away, and looking at the old princess she said to
herself, "I hate her! I hate her! I will never forgive her!"
Princess Anna, bidding her maid good-by, disappeared into the night.
The next morning the old princess learned of the flight. Already ill,
she fell fainting to the floor, and for a long time her condition was
critical. She regained consciousness, tried to find words to express
her anger, and again swooned away. Day and night, three women watched
over her, her son's old nurse, her maid, and Natasha, who took turns
in waiting on her. Things continued thus for forty-eight hours.
Finally, on the night of the third day she came to herself. It was
Natasha's watch.
"And you knew? You knew she was going?" the old princess asked her
fiercely.
The girl started, unable at first to collect her thoughts, and looked
up frightened. The dim flicker of the night light lit her pale face
and golden hair, and fell also on the grim, emaciated face of the old
princess, whose eyes glittered feverishly under her thick brows.
"You knew my daughter was going to run away?" repeated the old woman,
fixing her keen eyes on Natasha's face, trying to raise herself from
among the lace-fringed pillows.
"I knew," the girl answered in a half whisper, lowering her eyes in
confusion, and trying to throw off her first impression of terror.
"Why did you not tell me before?" the old woman continued, even more
fiercely.
Natasha had now recovered her composure, and raising her eyes with an
expression of innocent distress, she answered:
"Princess Anna hid everything from me also, until the very last. How
dare I tell you? Would you have believed me? It was not my business,
your excellency!"
The old princess shook her head, smiling bitterly and incredulously.
"Snake!" she hissed fiercely, looking at the girl; and then she added
quickly:
"Did any of the others know?"
"No one but myself!" answered Natasha.
"Never dare to speak of her again! Never dare!" cried the old
princess, and once more she sank back unconscious on the pillows.
About noon the next day she again came to herself, and ordered her son
to be called. He came in quietly, and affectionately approached his
mother.
The princess dismissed her maid, and remained alone with her son.
"You have no longer a sister!" she cried, turning to her son, with the
nervous spasm which returned each time she spoke of her daughter. "She
is dead for us! She has disgraced us! I curse her! You, you alone are
my heir!"
At these words the young prince pricked up his ears and bent even more
attentively toward his mother. The news of his sole heirship was so
pleasant and unexpected that he did not even think of asking how his
sister had disgraced them, and only said with a deep sigh:
"Oh, mamma, she was always opposed to you. She never loved you!"
"I shall make a will in your favor," continued the princess, telling
him as briefly as possible of Princess Anna's flight. "Yes, in your
favor--only on one condition: that you will never recognize your
sister. That is my last wish!"
"Your wish is sacred to me," murmured her son, tenderly kissing her
hand. He had always been jealous and envious of his sister, and was
besides in immediate need of money.
The princess signed her will that same day, to the no small
satisfaction of her dear son, who, in his heart, was wondering how
soon his beloved parent would pass away, so that he might get his eyes
on her long-hoarded wealth.