A Nobleman's Nest Part 19

"Thank you, aunty,"--she began in a touched and gentle voice, in Russian: "thank you! I had not hoped for such condescension on your part; you are as kind as an angel."

As she uttered these words, Varvara Pavlovna unexpectedly took possession of one of Marya Dmitrievna's hands, and pressing it lightly in her pale-lilac gloves, obsequiously raised it to her full, rosy lips.

Marya Dmitrievna completely lost her head, on beholding such a beautiful, charmingly-dressed woman, almost on her knees at her feet; she did not know what to do: she did not wish to withdraw her hand, she wished to give her a seat, and to say something amiable to her; she ended by rising, and kissing Varvara Pavlovna on her smooth, fragrant brow.

Varvara Pavlovna was perfectly dumfounded by this kiss.

"Good morning,--_bon jour_,"--said Marya Dmitrievna:--"of course, I had no idea, ... however, of course, I am delighted to see you. You understand, my dear,--it is not for me to sit in judgment between wife and husband."

"My husband is wholly in the right,"--Varvara Pavlovna interrupted her:--"I alone am to blame."

"That is a very praiseworthy sentiment,"--returned Marya Dmitrievna:--"very. Have you been here long? Have you seen him? But sit down, pray."

"I arrived yesterday,"--replied Varvara Pavlovna, meekly seating herself on a chair; "I have seen Feodor Ivanitch, I have talked with him."

"Ah! Well, and how does he take it?"

"I was afraid that my sudden arrival would arouse his wrath,"--went on Varvara Pavlovna:--"but he did not deprive me of his presence."

"That is to say, he did not.... Yes, yes, I understand,"--e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Marya Dmitrievna.--"He is only rather rough in appearance, but his heart is soft."

"Feodor Ivanitch has not forgiven me; he would not listen to me.... But he was so kind as to appoint Lavriki for my place of residence."

"Ah! A very fine estate!"

"I set out thither to-morrow, in compliance with his will; but I considered it my duty to call on you first."

"I am very, very grateful to you, my dear. One must never forget one's relatives. And, do you know, I am astonished that you speak Russian so well. _C'est etonnant!_"

Varvara Pavlovna sighed.

"I have spent too much time abroad, Marya Dmitrievna, I know that; but my heart has always been Russian, and I have not forgotten my native land."

"Exactly so, exactly so; that is the best of all. Feodor Ivanitch, however, did not in the least expect you.... Yes; believe my experience; _la patrie avant tout_. Akh, please show me,--what a charming mantle that is you have on!"

"Do you like it?"--Varvara Pavlovna promptly dropped it from her shoulders.--"It is a very simple thing, from Madame Baudran."

"That is instantly perceptible. From Madame Baudran.... How charming, and what taste! I am convinced that you have brought with you a ma.s.s of the most entrancing things. I should like to look them over."

"My entire toilette is at your service, my dearest aunt. If you will permit, I can give your maid some points. I have a maid-servant from Paris,--a wonderful seamstress."

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

"Ashamed! ..." repeated Varvara Pavlovna, reproachfully.--"If you wish to make me happy,--command me, as though I belonged to you."

Marya Dmitrievna thawed.

"_Vous etes charmante_," she said.--"But why do not you take off your bonnet, your gloves?"

"What? You permit?"--asked Varvara Pavlovna, clasping her hands, as though with emotion.

"Of course; for you will dine with us, I hope. I ... I will introduce you to my daughter."--Marya Dmitrievna became slightly confused. "Well!

here goes!"--she said to herself.--"She is not quite well to-day."

"Oh, _ma tante_, how kind you are!"--exclaimed Varvara Pavlovna, and raised her handkerchief to her eyes.

A page announced the arrival of Gedeonovsky. The old chatterbox entered, made his bows, and smiled. Marya Dmitrievna presented him to her visitor. He came near being discomfited at first; but Varvara Pavlovna treated him with such coquettish respect, that his ears began to burn, and fibs, scandals, amiable remarks trickled out of his mouth like honey.

Varvara Pavlovna listened to him with a repressed smile, and became rather talkative herself. She modestly talked about Paris, about her travels, about Baden; twice she made Marya Dmitrievna laugh, and on each occasion she heaved another little sigh, as though she were mentally reproaching herself for her ill-timed mirth; she asked permission to bring Ada; removing her gloves, she showed, with her smooth hands washed with soap _a la guimauve_, how and where flounces, ruches, lace, and knots of ribbon were worn; she promised to bring a phial of the new English perfume, Victoria's Essence, and rejoiced like a child when Marya Dmitrievna consented to accept it as a gift; she wept at the remembrance of the feeling she had experienced when, for the first time, she had heard the Russian bells;--"so profoundly did they stagger my very heart,"--she said.

At that moment, Liza entered.

From the morning, from the very moment when, chilled with terror, she had perused Lavretzky's note, Liza had been preparing herself to meet his wife; she had a presentiment that she should see her, by way of punishment to her own criminal hopes, as she called them. She had made up her mind not to shun her. The sudden crisis in her fate had shaken her to the very foundations; in the course of about two hours her face had grown haggard; but she did not shed a tear. "It serves me right!"--she said to herself, with difficulty and agitation suppressing in her soul certain bitter, spiteful impulses, which alarmed even herself:--"Come, I must go down!"--she thought, as soon as she heard of Mme. Lavretzky's arrival, and she went.... For a long time she stood outside the door of the drawing-room, before she could bring herself to open it; with the thought: "I am to blame toward her,"--she crossed the threshold, and forced herself to look at her, forced herself to smile. Varvara Pavlovna advanced to meet her as soon as she saw her, and made a slight but nevertheless respectful inclination before her.--"Allow me to introduce myself,"--she began, in an insinuating voice:--"your _maman_ is so indulgent toward me, that I hope you will also be ... kind." The expression on Varvara Pavlovna's face, as she uttered this last word, her sly smile, her cold and at the same time soft glance, the movement of her arms and shoulders, her very gown, her whole being, aroused in Liza such a feeling of repulsion, that she could make her no answer, and with an effort she offered her hand. "This young lady despises me,"--thought Varvara Pavlovna, as she warmly pressed Liza's cold fingers, and, turning to Marya Dmitrievna, she said in an undertone: "_Mais elle est delicieuse!_" Liza flushed faintly, insult was audible to her in this exclamation; but she made up her mind not to trust her impressions, and seated herself by the window, at her embroidery-frame. Even there, Varvara Pavlovna did not leave her in peace: she went up to her, began to praise her taste, her art.... Liza's heart beat violently and painfully, she could hardly control herself, she could hardly sit still on her chair. It seemed to her that Varvara Pavlovna knew everything, and, secretly triumphing, was jeering at her. Fortunately for her, Gedeonovsky entered into conversation with Varvara Pavlovna, and distracted her attention. Liza bent over her embroidery-frame, and stealthily watched her. "_He_ loved that woman,"--she said to herself.

But she immediately banished from her head the thought of Lavretzky: she was afraid of losing control over herself, she felt that her head was softly whirling. Marya Dmitrievna began to talk about music.

"I have heard, my dear,"--she began:--"that you are a wonderful performer."

"It is a long time since I have played,"--replied Varvara Pavlovna, as she seated herself, in a leisurely manner, at the piano, and ran her fingers in a dashing way over the keys.--"Would you like to have me play?"

"Pray do."

Varvara Pavlovna played a brilliant and difficult etude of Herz in a masterly style. She had a great deal of strength and execution.

"A sylph!"--exclaimed Gedeonovsky.

"Remarkable!"--a.s.sented Marya Dmitrievna.--"Well, Varvara Pavlovna, I must confess,"--she said, calling her, for the first time, by her name:--"you have amazed me; you might even give concerts. We have an old musician here, a German, an eccentric fellow, very learned; he gives Liza lessons; he will simply go out of his mind over you."

"Lizaveta Mikhailovna is also a musician?"--inquired Varvara Pavlovna, turning her head slightly in her direction.

"Yes, she plays quite well, and loves music; but what does that signify, in comparison with you? But there is a young man here; you ought to make his acquaintance. He is--an artist in soul, and composes very prettily.

He is the only one who can fully appreciate you."

"A young man?"--said Varvara Pavlovna.--"Who is he? Some poor fellow?"

"Good gracious,--he's our chief cavalier, and not among us only--_et a Petersbourg_. A Junior Gentleman of the Bedchamber, received in the best society. You certainly must have heard of him,--Panshin, Vladimir Nikolaitch. He is here on a government commission ... a future Minister, upon my word!"

"And an artist?"

"An artist in soul, and such a charming fellow. You shall see him. He has been at my house very frequently of late; I have invited him for this evening; I hope that he will come,"--added Marya Dmitrievna, with a gentle sigh and a sidelong bitter smile.

Liza understood the significance of that smile; but she cared nothing for it.

"And is he young?"--repeated Varvara Pavlovna, lightly modulating from one key to another.

"He is eight and twenty--and of the most happy personal appearance. _Un jeune homme accompli_, upon my word."

"A model young man, one may say,"--remarked Gedeonovsky.

Varvara Pavlovna suddenly began to play a noisy Strauss waltz, which started with such a mighty and rapid trill as made even Gedeonovsky start; in the very middle of the waltz, she abruptly changed into a mournful motif, and wound up with the aria from "Lucia": "Fra poco."...

She had reflected that merry music was not compatible with her situation.

The aria from "Lucia," with emphasis on the sentimental notes, greatly affected Marya Dmitrievna.