Our removal to St. Petersburg, a week in Moscow, visits to his relatives
and to my own, settling ourselves in our new apartment, the journey, the
new city, the new faces, all seemed to me like a dream. All was so
novel, so changeful, so gay, all was so brightened for me by his
presence, by his love, that the placid country life appeared to me
something very far off, a sort of unreal thing. To my great surprise,
instead of the arrogant pride, the coldness, I had expected to
encounter, I was welcomed by all (not only by our relatives, but by
strangers,) with such cordiality that it seemed as if they had no
thought of anything but me, and as if one and all had been longing for
my arrival to complete their own happiness. Contrary to my
anticipations, in the circles of society, even in those which seemed to
me most select, I discovered many friends and connections of my husband
whom he had never mentioned to me, and it often struck me as strange and
disagreeable to hear him utter severe strictures upon some of these
persons who seemed to me so good. I could not understand why he treated
them so coldly, or why he tried to avoid some acquaintances whose
intimacy I thought rather flattering. I thought that the more one knew
of nice people, the better it was, and all these were nice people.
"Let us see how we shall arrange things," he had said to me before we
left the country: "here, we are little Croesuses, and there we shall be
far from rich; so we cannot remain in the city longer than Easter, and
we cannot go much into society, or we shall find ourselves embarrassed;
and I would not like you...."
"Why go into society?" I had answered; "we will only visit our
relatives, go to the theatre and opera, and to hear any good music, and
even before Easter we can be at home again in the country."
But scarcely were we in St. Petersburg than all these fine plans were
forgotten. I had been suddenly thrown into a world so new, so happy, so
many delights had surrounded me, so many objects of heretofore unknown
interest were offered to me, that all in a moment, as it were, and
without being conscious of it, I disavowed all my past, I upset all the
plans formerly arranged. Until now there had been nothing but play; as
to life itself, it had not yet begun; but here it was now, the real, the
true,--and what will it be in the future? thought I. The anxieties, the
fits of depression, which came upon me in the country, disappeared
suddenly as if by enchantment. My love for my husband became calmer,
and, on the other hand, it never occurred to me, in this new life, to
think that he was loving me less than formerly. Indeed, it was not
possible for me to doubt this love; each thought was instantly
understood by him, each sentiment shared, each wish gratified. His
unalterable serenity had vanished, here, or perhaps it had only ceased
to cause me any irritation. I even felt that besides his old love for me
he seemed now to find some new charm in me. Often, after a visit, after
I had made some new acquaintance, or after an evening at home, when,
with secret misgiving lest I should commit some blunder, I had been
performing the duties of hostess, he would say to me:
"Well, my little girl! bravo! well done, indeed!"
This would fill me with delight.
A short time after our arrival he wrote to his mother, and, as he handed
me the letter to let me add a few words, he said I must not read what he
had written; I laughingly persisted in seeing it, and read:
"You would not recognize Katia, I hardly recognize her myself. Where
could she have acquired this lovely and graceful ease of manner, this
affability, this fascination, this sweet, unconscious tact? And still
always so simple, so gentle, so full of kindness. Every one is delighted
with her; and as for me, I am never tired of admiring her, and, if that
were possible, would be more in love with her than ever."
"This, then, is what I am?" I thought. And it gave me so much pleasure
and gratification that I felt as if I loved him more than ever. My
success with all our acquaintances was a thing absolutely unexpected by
me. On all sides I was told: here, that I had particularly pleased my
uncle, there, that an aunt was raving over me; by this one, that there
was not a woman in all St. Petersburg like me; by that one, that if I
chose there would not be a woman in society so sought after as myself.
There was one cousin of my husband especially, Princess D., a lady of
high rank and fashion, no longer young, who announced that she had
fallen in love with me at first sight, and who did more than any one
else to turn my head with flattering attentions. When, for the first
time, this cousin proposed to me to go to a ball, and broached the
subject to my husband, he turned towards me with an almost imperceptible
smile, and mischievous glance, and asked if I wanted to go. I nodded,
and felt my face flush.
"One would say, a little culprit, confessing a wish," he said, laughing
good-humoredly.
"You told me we must not go into company, and that you would not like
it," I responded, smiling also, and giving him an entreating glance.
"If you wish it very much, we will go."
"Indeed, I would rather...."
"Do you wish it, wish it very much?" he repeated.
I made no answer.
"The greatest harm is not in the world, society, itself," he went on;
"it is unsatisfied worldly aspirations that are so evil, so unhealthful.
Certainly we must go,--and we will go," he concluded, unhesitatingly.
"To tell you the truth," I replied, "there is nothing in the world I
long for so much as to go to this ball!"
We went to it, and my delight was far beyond all my anticipations. At
this ball, even more than before, it seemed to me that I was the centre
around which everything was revolving; that it was for me alone that
this splendid room was in a blaze of light, that the music was sounding,
that the gay throng was gathering in ecstasy before me. All, from the
hair-dresser and my maid to the dancers, and even the stately old
gentlemen who slowly walked about through the rooms, watching the
younger people, seemed to me to be either implying or telling me in
downright speech that they were wild about me. The impression which I
produced at this ball, and which my cousin proudly confided to me, was
summed up in the general verdict that I was not the least in the world
like other women, and that there was about me some peculiar quality
which recalled the simplicity and charm of the country. This success
flattered me so much that I frankly owned to my husband how I longed to
go to at least two or three of the balls to be given in the course of
the winter, "in order," I said, despite a sharp little whisper from my
conscience, "that I may be satiated, once for all!"
My husband willingly consented to this, and at first accompanied me,
with evident pride and pleasure in my success, apparently forgetting or
disavowing what he had formerly decided on principle.
But after awhile I could see that he was bored, and growing tired of the
life we were leading. However, this was not yet clear enough to my eyes
for me to understand the full significance of the grave, watchful look
he sometimes directed towards me, even if I noticed the look at all. I
was so intoxicated by this love which I seemed so suddenly to have
aroused in all these strangers, by this perfume of elegance, pleasure,
and novelty, which I here breathed for the first time; by the apparent
removal of what had hitherto, as it were, held me down, namely, the
moral weight of my husband; it was so sweet to me, not only to walk
through this new world on a level with him, but to find the place given
me there even higher than his, and yet to love him with all the more
strength and independence than before; that I could not understand that
he looked on with displeasure at my utter delight in this worldly
existence.
I felt a new thrill of pride and deep satisfaction, when upon entering a
ball-room, all eyes would turn towards me; and when he, as if disdaining
to parade before the multitude his rights of proprietorship, would
quietly and at once leave my side and go off to be lost in the mass of
black coats.
"Only wait!" I often thought, as my eyes sought him out at the end of
the room, and rested on his face, dimly seen from the distance between
us, but sometimes with a very weary look upon it; "wait! when we are at
home again you shall see and know for whom I have been glad to be so
beautiful and so brilliant, you shall know whom I love far, far above
all around me this evening." It seemed to me, very sincerely, that my
delight in my successes was only for his sake, and also because they
enabled me to sacrifice even themselves for him. "One thing alone," I
thought, "might be a danger to me in this life in the world: that is,
that one of the men I meet here might conceive a passion for me, and my
husband might grow jealous of him; but he had such confidence in me, he
appeared to be so calm and indifferent, and all these young men seemed
in my eyes so empty in comparison with him, that this peril, the only
one, as I thought, with which social life could threaten me, had no
terrors at all. Still, the attentions I received from so many persons in
society gave me such pleasure, such a sense of satisfied self-love that
I rather felt as if there was some merit in my very love for my husband,
while at the same time it seemed to impress upon my relation to him
greater ease and freedom.
"I noticed how very animated your manner was, while you were talking to
N. N.," I said to him, one evening, upon our return from a ball; and I
shook my finger at him as I named a well-known lady of St. Petersburg
with whom he had spent part of the evening. I only meant to tease him a
little, for he was silent, and had a wearied look.
"Ah, why say such a thing? And for you to say it, Katia!" he exclaimed,
frowning, and pressing his lips together as if in physical pain. "That
is not like you,--not becoming your position, or mine. Leave such
speeches to others; bad jests of that kind might entirely do away with
our good understanding,--and I still hope that this good understanding
may return."
I felt confused, and was silent.
"Will it return, Katia? What do you think?" he asked.
"It is not changed,--it will never change," I said, and then I firmly
believed my assertion.
"May God grant it!" he exclaimed, "but it is time we were going back to
the country."
This was the only occasion upon which he spoke to me in this way, and
the rest of the time it seemed to me that everything was going on as
delightfully for him as for me,--and as for me, oh! I was so
light-hearted, so joyous! If occasionally I happened to notice that he
was wearied, I would console myself by reflecting how long, for his
sake, I had been wearied in the country; if our relations seemed to be
undergoing some little alteration, I thought how speedily they would
resume their old charm when we should find ourselves again alone, in the
summer, at our own Nikolski.
Thus the winter sped away without my realizing it; and Easter came, and,
despite all our resolutions we were still in St. Petersburg.
The Sunday following, however, we were really ready to go, everything
was packed, my husband had made his final purchases of flowers, gifts,
things of all kinds which were needed for the country, and was in one of
his happiest, most affectionate moods. Shortly before we were to start,
we had an unexpected visit from our cousin, who came to beg us to
postpone our departure one week, so that we might attend a reception
given by Countess R. on Saturday. She reminded me that I had already
received several invitations from Countess R., which had been declined,
and told me that Prince M., then in St. Petersburg, had, at the last
ball, expressed a desire to make my acquaintance, that it was with this
object in view that he purposed attending this reception, and that he
was saying everywhere that I was the loveliest woman in Russia. The
whole city would be there,--in one word, I must go! It would be nothing
without me.
My husband was at the other end of the room, talking to some one.
"So you will certainly come, Katia?" said my cousin.
"We meant to leave for the country, day after to-morrow," I replied,
doubtfully, as I glanced at my husband. Our eyes met, and he turned away
abruptly.
"I will persuade him to stay," said my cousin, "and on Saturday we will
turn all heads,--won't we?"
"Our plans would be disarranged, all our packing is done," I objected
feebly, beginning to waver.
"Perhaps she had better go to-day, at once, to pay her respects to the
prince!" observed my husband from his end of the room, with some
irritation, and in a dictatorial tone I had never heard from him before.
"Why, he is getting jealous; I see it for the first time!" exclaimed our
cousin, ironically. "It is not for the prince alone, Sergius
Mikaïlovitch, but for all of us, that I want her. That is why Countess
R. is so urgent."
"It depends upon herself," returned my husband, coldly, as he left the
room.
I had seen that he was much more agitated than usual; this troubled me,
and I would not give a decided answer to my cousin. As soon as she was
gone, I went to look for my husband. He was thoughtfully walking up and
down his chamber, and neither saw nor heard me, as I stole softly in on
tiptoe.
"He is picturing to himself his dear Nikolski," thought I, watching him,
"he is thinking about his morning coffee in that light drawing-room, his
fields, his peasants, his evenings at home, and his secret little night
suppers! Yes," I decided, in my own mind, "I would give all the balls in
the world, and the flatteries of every prince in the universe, to have
again his bright joyousness and his loving caresses!"
I was about telling him that I was not going to the reception, that I no
longer cared to go, when he suddenly glanced behind him. At the sight of
me, his brow darkened, and the dreamy gentleness of his countenance
changed entirely. The well-known look came to his face, the look of
penetrating wisdom and patronizing calmness. He would not let me see in
him simple human nature: he must remain for me the demi-god upon his
pedestal!
"What is it, my love?" he enquired, turning towards me with quiet
carelessness.
I did not answer. I resented his hiding himself from me, his not
allowing me to see him as I best loved him.
"So you wish to go to this reception, on Saturday?" he continued.
"I did wish to go," I replied, "but it did not suit you. And then, too,
the packing is done," I added.
Never had he looked at me so coldly, never spoken so coldly.
"I shall not leave before Tuesday, and I will order the packing to be
undone," he said; "we will not go until you choose. Do me the favor to
go to this entertainment. I shall not leave the city."
As was his habit when excited, he went on walking about the room with
quick, irregular steps, and did not look at me.
"Most decidedly, I do not understand you," I said, putting myself in his
way, and following him with my eyes. "Why do you speak to me in such a
singular manner? I am quite ready to sacrifice this pleasure to you, and
you, with sarcasm you have never before shown, you require that I shall
go!"
"Come! come! You _sacrifice_ yourself" (he laid strong emphasis on the
word), "and I, I _sacrifice_ myself also! Combat of generosity! There, I
hope, is what may be called 'family happiness'!"
This was the first time I had ever heard from his lips words so hard and
satirical. His satire did not touch, and his hardness did not frighten
me, but they became contagious. Was it really he, always so opposed to
any debating between us, always so simple and straightforward, who was
speaking to me thus? And why? Just because I had offered to sacrifice
myself to his pleasure, which was really the supreme thing in my eyes;
just because, at this moment, with the thought, came the comprehension
of how much I loved him. Our characters were reversed; it was he who had
lost all frankness and simplicity, and I who had found them.
"You are so changed," said I, sighing. "Of what am I guilty in your
eyes? It is not this reception, but some old sin, which you are casting
up against me in your heart. Why not use more sincerity? You were not
afraid of it with me, once. Speak out,--what have you against me?"
"No matter what he may say," I thought, quickly running over the events
of the season in my mind, "there is not one thing that he has a right to
reproach me with, this whole winter."
I went and stood in the middle of the room, so that he would be obliged
to pass near me, and I looked at him. I said to myself: "He will come
close to me, he will put his arms around me and kiss me, and that will
be the end of it all;" this thought darted into my head, and it even
cost me something to let it end so, without my proving to him that he
was in the wrong. But he stood still at the end of the room, and,
looking in my face:
"You still do not understand me?" he said.
"No."
"Yet ... how can I tell you?... I am appalled, for the first time, I am
appalled at what I see--what I cannot but see." He stopped, evidently
frightened at the rough tone of his voice.
"What do you mean?" I demanded, indignant tears filling my eyes.
"I am appalled that, knowing the prince's comments on your beauty, you
should, after that, be so ready and willing to run after him, forgetting
your husband, yourself, your own dignity as a woman,--and then for you
not to understand what your husband has to feel in your stead, since you
yourself have not this sense of your own dignity!--far from it, you come
and declare to your husband that you will _sacrifice_ yourself, which is
equivalent to saying, 'To please His Highness would be my greatest
happiness, but I will _sacrifice_ it.'"
The more he said, the more the sound of his own voice excited him, and
the harder, more cutting and violent, became his voice. I had never
seen, and had never expected to see him thus; the blood surged to my
heart; I was frightened, but yet, at the same time, a sense of unmerited
disgrace and offended self-love aroused me, and I keenly longed to take
some vengeance on him.
"I have long expected this outbreak," said I, "speak, speak!"
"I do not know what you may have expected," he went on, "but I might
have anticipated still worse things, from seeing you day by day steeped
in this slime, this idleness, this luxury, this senseless society; and I
did anticipate.... I did anticipate this that to-day covers me with
shame, and sinks me in misery such as I have never experienced; shame
for myself, when your dear friend, prying and fumbling about in my heart
with her unclean fingers, spoke of my jealousy,--and jealousy of whom?
Of a man whom neither you nor I have ever seen! And you, as if
purposely, you will not understand me, you 'will sacrifice' to
me,--whom? Great God!... Shame on your degradation! Sacrifice!" he
repeated once more.
"Ah, this then is what is meant by the husband's authority," I thought.
"To insult and humiliate his wife, who is not guilty of the very least
thing in the world! Here then are 'marital rights;'--but I, for one,
will never submit to them!"
"Well, I sacrifice _nothing_ to you, then," I returned, feeling my
nostrils dilate, and my face grow bloodless. "I will go to the reception
on Saturday. I most certainly will go!"
"And God give you pleasure in it! Only--all is ended between us!" he
exclaimed, in an uncontrollable transport of rage. "At least you shall
not make a martyr of me any longer. I was a fool who...."
But his lips trembled, and he made a visible effort not to finish what
he had begun to say.
At this moment I was afraid of him and I hated him. I longed to say a
great many more things to him, and to avenge myself for all his insults;
but if I had so much as opened my lips, my tears could no longer have
been restrained, and I would have felt my dignity compromised before
him. I left the room, without a word. But scarcely was I beyond the
sound of his footsteps when I was suddenly seized with terror at the
thought of what we had done. It seemed to me horrible that, perhaps for
life, this bond, which constituted all my happiness, was destroyed, and
my impulse was to return at once. But would his passion have subsided
sufficiently for him to comprehend me, if, without a word, I should hold
out my hand to him, and look into his eyes? Would he comprehend my
generosity? Suppose he should regard my sincere sorrow as dissimulation?
Or should consider my voluntary right-doing as repentance, and receive
me on that score? Or grant me pardon, with proud tranquillity? And why,
when I have loved him so much, oh, _why_ should he have insulted me so?
I did not go back to him, but into my own room, where I sat for a long
time, crying, recalling with terror every word of our conversation,
mentally substituting other words for those we had used, adding
different and better ones, then reminding myself again, with a mingled
sense of fright and outraged feeling, of all that had taken place. When
I came down to tea, in the evening, and in the presence of C., who was
making us a visit, met my husband again, I was aware that from this day
forward there must be an open gulf between us. C. asked me when we were
going to leave the city. I could not answer her.
"On Tuesday," replied my husband, "we are staying for Countess R's
reception. You are going, no doubt?" he continued, turning to me.
I was frightened at the sound of his voice, although it seemed quite as
usual, and glanced at my husband. His eyes were fixed on me, with a hard
ironical look, his tone was measured, cold.
"Yes," I replied.
Later, when we were alone, he approached me, and holding out his hand:
"Forget, I entreat you, what I said to you."
I took his hand, a faint smile came to my trembling lips, and the tears
started to my eyes; but he quickly drew it away and, as if fearing a
sentimental scene, went and sat down in an arm-chair at some distance
from me. "Is it possible that he still believes himself right?" thought
I; and I had on my lips a cordial explanation, and a request not to go
to the reception.
"I must write to mamma that we have postponed our departure," said he,
"or she will be uneasy."
"And when do you intend to leave?" I asked.
"On the Tuesday after the reception."
"I hope this is not on my account," said I, looking into his eyes, but
they only looked back into mine without telling me anything, as if they
were held far from me by some secret force. All at once, his face
appeared to me old and disagreeable.
We went to the reception, and seemingly our relations were again cordial
and affectionate, but in reality they were quite unlike what they had
been in the past.
At the reception I was sitting in the midst of a circle of ladies, when
the prince approached me, so that I was obliged to stand up and speak
to him. As I did so, my eyes involuntarily sought my husband; I saw him
look at me, from the other end of the room, and then turn away. Such a
rush of shame and sorrow came over me, that I felt almost ill, and I
knew that my face and neck grew scarlet under the eyes of the prince.
But I had to stand and listen to what he was saying to me, all the while
feeling him scrutinize me keenly from head to foot. Our conversation was
not long, there was not room near me for him to sit down, and he could
not help seeing how ill at ease I was with him. We talked of the last
ball, where I was to spend the summer, _etc._ Upon leaving me he
expressed a wish to make my husband's acquaintance, and in a little
while I saw them meet, at the other end of the room, and begin to talk
with each other. The prince must have made some remark concerning me,
for I saw him smile and glance in my direction.
My husband's face flushed darkly, he bowed, and was the first to
conclude the interview. I felt my color rise, also, for I was mortified
to think what opinion the prince must have formed of me, and more
especially of Sergius. It seemed to me that every one must have observed
my embarrassment while I was talking with the prince, and also his very
singular manner; "God knows," said I to myself, "what interpretation may
be put upon it; could any one happen to know of my wrangle with my
husband?" My cousin took me home, and on the way we were talking about
him. I could not resist telling her all that had passed between us in
regard to this unfortunate reception. She soothed me by assurances that
it was only one of those frequent quarrels, which signify nothing at all
and leave no result behind them; and in explaining my husband's
character from her point of view, she spoke of him as extremely reserved
and proud. I agreed with her, and it seemed to me that, after this, I
comprehended his character more clearly and much more calmly.
But afterwards, when we were again alone together, this judgment of mine
with regard to him appeared to me a real crime, which weighed upon my
conscience, and I felt that the gulf between us was widening more and
more.
From this day on, our life and our mutual relations suffered a complete
change. Being alone together was no longer a delight to us. There were
subjects to be avoided, and it was easier for us to talk to each other
in the presence of a third person. If in the course of conversation any
allusion chanced to be made, either to life in the country, or to balls,
dazzling wild-fire seemed to dance before our eyes and make us afraid to
look at each other; I knew that his embarrassment was as great as my
own; we both realized how far asunder we were thrust by that dividing
gulf, and dreaded drawing nearer. I was persuaded that he was passionate
and proud, and that I must be very careful not to run against his weak
points. And, on his part, he was convinced that I could not exist
outside of the life of the world, that a home in the country did not
suit me at all, and that he must resign himself to this unhappy
predilection. Therefore we both shunned any direct conversation upon
such subjects, and each erroneously judged the other. We had long
ceased to be respectively, in each other's eyes, the most perfect beings
in this world; on the contrary, we were beginning to compare each other
with those around us, and to measure with secret appreciation our own
characters.