A Nobleman's Nest Part 18

For a long time Lavretzky did not speak: he felt that he could not control himself; he perceived clearly, that Varvara Pavlovna was not in the least afraid of him, but was a.s.suming the air of being on the very verge of falling into a swoon.

"Listen, madam,"--he began, at last, breathing heavily at times, grinding his teeth:--"there is no necessity for our dissembling with each other; I do not believe in your repentance; and even if it were genuine, it is impossible for me to become reconciled to you, to live with you again."

Varvara Pavlovna compressed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "This is disgust,"--she thought:--"of course! I am no longer even a woman to him."

"It is impossible,"--repeated Lavretzky, and b.u.t.toned up his coat to the throat.--"I do not know why you have taken it into your head to come hither: probably, you have no money left."

"Alas! you are insulting me,"--whispered Varvara Pavlovna.

"However that may be,--you are, unhappily, my wife, nevertheless. I cannot turn you out ... and this is what I have to propose to you. You may set out, this very day, if you like, for Lavriki, and live there; the house is good, as you know; you will receive all that is necessary, in addition to your allowance.... Do you agree?"

Varvara Pavlovna raised her embroidered handkerchief to her eyes.

"I have already told you,"--she said, her lips twitching nervously:--"that I shall agree to anything whatever you may see fit to do with me: on this occasion, nothing is left for me to do, except to ask you: will you permit me, at least, to thank you for your magnanimity?"

"No grat.i.tude, I beg of you; it is better so,"--hastily returned Lavretzky.--"Accordingly,"--he went on, approaching the door:--"I may count upon...."

"To-morrow I shall be at Lavriki,"--said Varvara Pavlovna, respectfully rising from her seat.--"But, Feodor Ivanitch" (she no longer called him Theodore)....

"What do you want?"

"I know that I have, as yet, in no way earned my forgiveness; may I hope, at least, in time...."

"Ekh, Varvara Pavlovna,"--Lavretzky interrupted her:--"you are a clever woman, and as I am not a fool, I know that that is quite unnecessary for you. And I forgave you long ago; but there was always a gulf between us."

"I shall know how to submit,"--replied Varvara Pavlovna, and bowed her head. "I have not forgotten my fault; I should not be surprised to learn that you were even delighted at the news of my death,"--she added gently, pointing slightly with her hand at the copy of the newspaper which lay on the table, forgotten by Lavretzky.

Feodor Ivanitch shuddered: the feuilleton was marked with a pencil.

Varvara Pavlovna gazed at him with still greater humility. She was very pretty at that moment. Her grey Paris gown gracefully clothed her willowy form, which was almost that of a girl of seventeen; her slender, delicate neck encircled with a white collar, her bosom which rose and fell evenly, her arms devoid of bracelets and rings,--her whole figure, from her shining hair to the tip of her barely revealed little boot, was so elegant....

Lavretzky swept an angry glance over her, came near exclaiming: "Brava!"

came near smiting her in the temple with his fist--and left the room. An hour later, he had already set out for Vasilievskoe, and two hours later, Varvara Pavlovna gave orders that the best carriage in town should be engaged, donned a simple straw hat with a black veil, and a modest mantle, entrusted Ada to Justine, and set out for the Kalitins: from the inquiries inst.i.tuted by her servant she had learned that her husband was in the habit of going to them every day.

x.x.xVIII

The day of the arrival of Lavretzky's wife in town of O * * *, a cheerless day for him, was also a painful day for Liza. She had not succeeded in going down-stairs and bidding her mother "good morning,"

before the trampling of a horse's hoofs resounded under the window, and with secret terror she beheld Panshin riding into the yard: "He has presented himself thus early for a definitive explanation,"--she thought--and she was not mistaken; after spending a while in the drawing-room, he suggested that she should go with him into the garden, and demanded her decision as to his fate. Liza summoned up her courage, and informed him that she could not be his wife. He listened to her to the end, as he stood with his side toward her, and his hat pulled down on his brows; courteously, but in an altered tone, he asked her: was that her last word, and had he, in any way, given her cause for such a change in her ideas? then he pressed his hand to his eyes, sighed briefly and abruptly, and removed his hand from his face.

"I have not wished to follow the beaten path,"--he said, in a dull voice,--"I have wished to find my companion after the inclination of the heart; but, evidently, that was not destined to be. Farewell, dream!"--He bowed profoundly to Liza, and returned to the house.

She hoped that he would immediately take his departure; but he went into Marya Dmitrievna's boudoir, and sat with her for about an hour. As he went away, he said to Liza: "_Votre mere vous appelle; adieu a jamais_ ..." mounted his horse, and set off from the very porch at full gallop.

Liza went in to Marya Dmitrievna, and found her in tears: Panshin had communicated to her his misfortune.

"Why hast thou killed me? Why hast thou killed me?"--in this wise did the mortified widow begin her complaints.--"Whom else didst thou want? What!

is not he a suitable husband for thee? A Junior Gentleman of the Emperor's Bedchamber! not _interessant_! He might marry any Maid of Honour he chose in Petersburg. And I--I had been hoping so! And hast thou changed long toward him? What has sent this cloud drifting hither--it did not come of itself! Can it be that ninny? A pretty counsellor thou hast found!

"And he, my dear one,"--pursued Marya Dmitrievna:--"how respectful, how attentive, even in his own grief! He has promised not to abandon me. Akh, I shall not survive this! Akh, I have got a deadly headache. Send Palasha to me. Thou wilt be the death of me, if thou dost not change thy mind,--dost thou hear?" And calling her an ingrate a couple of times, Marya Dmitrievna sent Liza away.

She went to her own room. But before she had time to recover her breath from her explanation with Panshin and her mother, another thunderstorm broke over her, and this time from a quarter whence she had least expected it. Marfa Timofeevna entered her room, and immediately slammed the door behind her. The old woman's face was pale, her cap was awry, her eyes were flashing, her hands and lips were trembling. Liza was amazed: never before had she seen her sensible and reasonable aunt in such a state.

"Very fine, madam,"--began Marfa Timofeevna, in a tremulous and broken whisper: "very fine indeed! From whom hast thou learned this, my mother?... Give me water; I cannot speak."

"Calm yourself, aunty; what is the matter with you?"--said Liza, giving her a gla.s.s of water.--"Why, you yourself did not favour Mr. Panshin."

Marfa Timofeevna set down the gla.s.s.

"I cannot drink: I shall knock out my last remaining teeth. What dost thou mean by Panshin? What has Panshin to do with it? Do thou tell me, rather, who taught thee to appoint rendezvous by night--hey? my mother?"

Liza turned pale.

"Please do not think of excusing thyself,"--continued Marfa Timofeevna.--"Schurotchka herself saw all, and told me. I have forbidden her to chatter, but she does not lie."

"I have made no excuses, aunty,"--said Liza, in a barely audible voice.

"Ah, ah! Now, see here, my mother; didst thou appoint a meeting with him, with that old sinner, that quiet man?"

"No."

"Then how did it come about?"

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

"And thou wentest? Very fine. And thou lovest him, dost thou not?"

"I do,"--replied Liza, in a tranquil voice.

"Gracious heavens! she loves him!"--Marfa Timofeevna tore off her cap.--"She loves a married man! Hey? she loves!"

"He told me,"--began Liza....

"What did he tell thee, the darling, wha-at was it?"

"He told me that his wife was dead."

Marfa Timofeevna crossed herself.--"The kingdom of heaven be hers,"--she whispered:--"she was a frivolous woman--G.o.d forgive her. So that's how it is: then he's a widower. Yes, I see that he is equal to anything. He killed off his first wife, and now he's after another. Thou art a sly one, art thou not? Only, this is what I have to say to thee, niece: in my time, when I was young, girls were severely punished for such capers. Thou must not be angry with me, my mother; only fools get angry at the truth. I have given orders that he is not to be admitted to-day. I am fond of him, but I shall never forgive him for this. A widower, forsooth! Give me some water.... But thou art my brave girl, for sending Panshin off with a long face; only, do not sit out nights with that goat's breed,--with men,--do not grieve me, an old woman! For I am not always amiable--I know how to bite, also!... A widower!"

Marfa Timofeevna departed, but Liza sat down in the corner and began to cry. She felt bitter in soul; she had not deserved such humiliation. Her love had not announced its presence by cheerfulness; this was the second time she had wept since the night before. That new, unexpected feeling had barely come to life in her heart when she had had to pay so heavily for it, when strange hands had roughly touched her private secret! She felt ashamed, and pained, and bitter: but there was neither doubt nor terror in her,--and Lavretzky became all the dearer to her. She had hesitated as long as she did not understand herself; but after that meeting--she could hesitate no longer; she knew that she loved,--and had fallen in love honourably, not jestingly, she had become strongly attached, for her whole life; she felt that force could not break that bond.

x.x.xIX

Marya Dmitrievna was greatly perturbed when the arrival of Varvara Pavlovna was announced to her; she did not even know whether to receive her; she was afraid of offending Feodor Ivanitch. At last, curiosity carried the day. "What of it?"--she said to herself,--"why, she is a relative also,"--and seating herself in her arm-chair, she said to the lackey: "Ask her in!" Several minutes elapsed; the door opened, Varvara Pavlovna approached Marya Dmitrievna swiftly, with barely audible footsteps, and, without giving her a chance to rise from her chair, almost went down on her knees before her.