A House of Gentlefolk Part 18

And, calling her twice an ungrateful girl, Marya Dmitrievna dismissed her.

She went to her own room. But she had not had time to recover from her interviews with Panshin and her mother before another storm broke over head, and this time from a quarter from which she would least have expected it. Marfa Timofyevna came into her room, and at once slammed the door after her. The old lady's face was pale, her cap was awry, her eyes were flashing, and her hands and lips were trembling. Lisa was astonished; she had never before seen her sensible and reasonable aunt in such a condition.

"A pretty thing, miss," Marfa Timofyevna began in a shaking and broken whisper, "a pretty thing! Who taught you such ways, I should like to know, miss?... Give me some water; I can't speak."

"Calm yourself, auntie, what is the matter?" said Lisa, giving her a gla.s.s of water. "Why, I thought you did not think much of Mr. Panshin yourself."

Marfa Timofyevna pushed away the gla.s.s.

"I can't drink; I shall knock my last teeth out if I try to. What's Panshin to do with it? Why bring Panshin in? You had better tell me who has taught you to make appointments at night--eh? miss?"

Lisa turned pale.

"Now, please, don't try to deny it," pursued Marfa Timofyevna; "Shurotchka herself saw it all and told me. I have had to forbid her chattering, but she is not a liar."

"I don't deny it, auntie," Lisa uttered scarcely audibly.

"Ah, ah! That's it, is it, miss; you made an appointment with him, that old sinner, who seems so meek?"

"No."

"How then?"

"I went down into the drawing-room for a book; he was in the garden--and he called me."

"And you went? A pretty thing! So you love him, eh?"

"I love him," answered Lisa softly.

"Merciful Heavens! She loves him!" Marfa Timofyevna s.n.a.t.c.hed off her cap. "She loves a married man! Ah! she loves him."

"He told me"...began Lisa.

"What has he told you, the scoundrel, eh?"

"He told me that his wife was dead."

Marfa Timofyevna crossed herself. "Peace be with her," she muttered; "she was a vain hussy, G.o.d forgive her. So, then, he's a widower, I suppose. And he's losing no time, I see. He has buried one wife and now he's after another. He's a nice person: only let me tell you one thing, niece; in my day, when I was young, harm came to young girls from such goings on. Don't be angry with me, my girl, only fools are angry at the truth. I have given orders not to admit him to-day. I love him, but I shall never forgive him for this. Upon my word, a widower! Give me some water. But as for your sending Panshin about his business, I think you're a first-rate girl for that. Only don't you go sitting of nights with any animals of that sort; don't break my old heart, or else you'll see I'm not all fondness--I can bite too... a widower!"

Marfa Timofyevna went off, and Lisa sat down in a corner and began to cry. There was bitterness in her soul. She had not deserved such humiliation. Love had proved no happiness to her: she was weeping for a second time since yesterday evening. This new unexpected feeling had only just arisen in her heart, and already what a heavy price she had paid for it, how coa.r.s.ely had strange hands touched her sacred secret.

She felt ashamed, and bitter, and sick; but she had no doubt and no dread--and Lavretsky was dearer to her than ever. She had hesitated while she did not understand herself; but after that meeting, after that kiss--she could hesitate no more: she knew that she loved, and now she loved honestly and seriously, she was bound firmly for all her life, and she did not fear reproaches. She felt that by no violence could they break that bond.

Chapter x.x.xIX

Marya Dmitrievna was much agitated when she received the announcement of the arrival of Varvara Pavlovna Lavretsky, she did not even know whether to receive her; she was afraid of giving offence to Fedor Ivanitch. At last curiosity prevailed. "Why," she reflected, "she too is a relation,"

and, taking up her position in an arm-chair, she said to the footman, "Show her in." A few moments pa.s.sed; the door opened, Varvara Pavlovna swiftly and with scarcely audible steps, approached Marya Dmitrievna, and not allowing her to rise from her chair, bent almost on her knees before her.

"I thank you, dear aunt," she began in a soft voice full of emotion, speaking Russian; "I thank you; I did not hope for such condescension on your part; you are an angel of goodness."

As she uttered these words Varvara Pavlovna quite unexpectedly took possession of one of Marya Dmitrievna's hands, and pressing it lightly in her pale lavender gloves, she raised it in a fawning way to her full rosy lips. Marya Dmitrievna quite lost her head, seeing such a handsome and charmingly dressed woman almost at her feet. She did not know where she was. And she tried to withdraw her hand, while, at the same time, she was inclined to make her sit down, and to say something affectionate to her. She ended by raising Varvara Pavlovna and kissing her on her smooth perfumed brow.

Varvara Pavlovna was completely overcome by this kiss.

"How do you do, bonjour," said Marya Dmitrievna. "Of course I did not expect... but, of course, I am glad to see you. You understand, my dear, it's not for me to judge between man and wife"...

"My husband is in the right in everything," Varvara Pavlovna interposed; "I alone am to blame."

"That is a very praiseworthy feeling" rejoined Marya Dmitrievna, "very.

Have you been here long? Have you seen him? But sit down, please."

"I arrived yesterday," answered Varvara Pavlovna, sitting down meekly.

"I have seen Fedor Ivanitch; I have talked with him."

"Ah! Well, and how was he?"

"I was afraid my sudden arrival would provoke his anger," continued Varvara Pavlovna, "but he did not refuse to see me."

"That is to say, he did not... Yes, yes, I understand," commented Marya Dmitrievna. "He is only a little rough on the surface, but his heart is soft."

"Fedor Ivanitch has not forgiven me; he would not hear me. But he was so good as to a.s.sign me Lavriky as a place of residence."

"Ah! a splendid estate!"

"I am setting off there to-morrow in fulfilment of his wish; but I esteemed it a duty to visit you first."

"I am very, very much obliged to you, my dear. Relations ought never to forget one another. And do you know I am surprised how well you speak Russian. C'est etonnant."

Varvara Pavlovna sighed.

"I have been too long abroad, Marya Dmitrievna, I know that; but my heart has always been Russian, and I have not forgotten my country."

"Ah, ah; that is good. Fedor Ivanitch did not, however, expect you at all. Yes; you may trust my experience, la patri avant tout. Ah, show me, if you please-what a charming mantle you have."

"Do you like it?" Varvara Pavlovna slipped it quickly off her shoulders; "it is a very simple little thing from Madame Baudran."

"One can see it at once. From Madame Baudran? How sweet, and what taste!

I am sure you have brought a number of fascinating things with you. If I could only see them."

"All my things are at your service, dearest auntie. If you permit, I can show some patterns to your maid. I have a woman with me from Paris--a wonderfully clever dressmaker."

"You are very good, my dear. But, really, I am ashamed"...

"Ashamed!" repeated Varvara Pavlovna reproachfully. "If you want to make me happy, dispose of me as if I were your property."

Marya Dmitrievna was completely melted.