A Reckless Character, and Other Stories Part 17

At the time of which we are speaking, there was in Moscow a certain widow, a Georgian Princess,--a person of ill-defined standing and almost a suspicious character. She was about forty years of age; in her youth she had, probably, bloomed with that peculiar oriental beauty, which so quickly fades; now she powdered and painted herself, and dyed her hair a yellow hue. Various, not altogether favourable, and not quite definite, rumours were in circulation about her; no one had known her husband--and in no one city had she lived for any length of time. She had neither children nor property; but she lived on a lavish scale,--on credit or otherwise. She held a salon, as the saying is, and received a decidedly mixed company--chiefly composed of young men. Her whole establishment, beginning with her own toilette, furniture, and table, and ending with her equipage and staff of servants, bore a certain stamp of inferiority, artificiality, transitoriness ... but neither the Princess herself nor her guests, apparently, demanded anything better. The Princess was reputed to be fond of music and literature, to be a patroness of actors and artists; and she really did take an interest in these "questions,"

even to an enthusiastic degree--and even to a pitch of rapture which was not altogether simulated. She indubitably did possess the aesthetic chord. Moreover, she was very accessible, amiable, devoid of pretensions, of affectation, and--a fact which many did not suspect--in reality extremely kind, tender-hearted and obliging.... Rare qualities, and therefore all the more precious, precisely in individuals of that stamp.

"A frivolous woman!" one clever person said concerning her, "and she will infallibly get into paradise! For she forgives everything--and everything will be forgiven her!"--It was also said concerning her that when she disappeared from any town, she always left behind her as many creditors as persons whom she had loaded with benefits. A soft heart can be pressed in any direction you like.

Kupfer, as was to be expected, was a visitor at her house, and became very intimate with her ... altogether too intimate, so malicious tongues a.s.serted. But he always spoke of her not only in a friendly manner, but also with respect; he lauded her as a woman of gold--interpret that as you please!--and was a firm believer in her love for art, and in her comprehension of art!--So then, one day after dinner, at the Aratoffs', after having discussed the Princess and her evening gatherings, he began to urge Yakoff to break in upon his life of an anchorite for once, and permit him, Kupfer, to introduce him to his friend. At first Yakoff would not hear to anything of the sort.

"Why, what idea hast thou got into thy head?" exclaimed Kupfer at last.

"What sort of a presentation is in question? I shall simply take thee, just as thou art now sitting there, in thy frock-coat, and conduct thee to her evening. They do not stand on ceremony in the least there, brother! Here now, thou art learned, and thou art fond of music" (there actually was in Aratoff's study a small piano, on which he occasionally struck a few chords in diminished sevenths)--"and in her house there is any quant.i.ty of that sort of thing!... And there thou wilt meet sympathetic people, without any airs! And, in conclusion, it is not right that at thy age, with thy personal appearance" (Aratoff dropped his eyes and waved his hand)--"yes, yes, with thy personal appearance, thou shouldst shun society, the world, in this manner! I'm not going to take thee to call on generals, seest thou! Moreover, I don't know any generals myself!... Don't be stubborn, my dear fellow! Morality is a good thing, a thing worthy of respect.... But why give thyself up to asceticism? a.s.suredly, thou art not preparing to become a monk!"

Aratoff continued, nevertheless, to resist; but Platonida Ivanovna unexpectedly came to Kupfer's a.s.sistance. Although she did not quite understand the meaning of the word "asceticism," still she also thought that it would not be a bad idea for Yashenka to divert himself, to take a look at people,--and show himself.--"The more so," she added, "that I have confidence in Feodor Feodoritch! He will not take thee to any bad place!..."

"I'll restore him to thee in all his pristine purity!" cried Kupfer, at whom Platonida Ivanovna, in spite of her confidence, kept casting uneasy glances; Aratoff blushed to his very ears--but he ceased to object.

It ended in Kupfer taking him, on the following day, to the Princess's evening a.s.sembly. But Aratoff did not remain there long. In the first place, he found at her house about twenty guests, men and women, who were, presumably, sympathetic, but who were strangers to him, nevertheless; and this embarra.s.sed him, although he was obliged to talk very little: but he feared this most of all. In the second place, he did not like the hostess herself, although she welcomed him very cordially and unaffectedly. Everything about her displeased him; her painted face, and her churned-up curls, and her hoa.r.s.ely-mellifluous voice, her shrill laugh, her way of rolling up her eyes, her too _decollete_ bodice--and those plump, shiny fingers with a mult.i.tude of rings!... Slinking off into a corner, he now swiftly ran his eyes over the faces of all the guests, as though he did not even distinguish one from another; again he stared persistently at his own feet. But when, at last, an artist who had just come to town, with a drink-sodden countenance, extremely long hair, and a bit of gla.s.s under his puckered brow, seated himself at the piano, and bringing down his hands on the keys and his feet on the pedals, with a flourish, began to bang out a fantasia by Liszt on a Wagnerian theme, Aratoff could stand it no longer, and slipped away, bearing in his soul a confused and oppressive impression, athwart which, nevertheless, there pierced something which he did not understand, but which was significant and even agitating.

III

Kupfer came on the following day to dinner; but he did not enlarge upon the preceding evening, he did not even reproach Aratoff for his hasty flight, and merely expressed regret that he had not waited for supper, at which champagne had been served! (of Nizhegorod[54] fabrication, we may remark in parenthesis).

Kupfer probably understood that he had made a mistake in trying to rouse his friend, and that Aratoff was a man who positively was not adapted to that sort of society and manner of life. On his side, Aratoff also did not allude to the Princess or to the night before. Platonida Ivanovna did not know whether to rejoice at the failure of this first attempt or to regret it. She decided, at last, that Yasha's health might suffer from such expeditions, and regained her complacency. Kupfer went away directly after dinner, and did not show himself again for a whole week. And that not because he was sulking at Aratoff for the failure of his introduction,--the good-natured fellow was incapable of such a thing,--but he had, evidently, found some occupation which engrossed all his time, all his thoughts;--for thereafter he rarely came to the Aratoffs', wore an abstracted aspect, and soon vanished.... Aratoff continued to live on as before; but some hitch, if we may so express ourselves, had secured lodgment in his soul. He still recalled something or other, without himself being quite aware what it was precisely,--and that "something" referred to the evening which he had spent at the Princess's house. Nevertheless, he had not the slightest desire to return to it; and society, a section of which he had inspected in her house, repelled him more than ever. Thus pa.s.sed six weeks.

And lo! one morning, Kupfer again presented himself to him, this time with a somewhat embarra.s.sed visage.

"I know," he began, with a forced laugh, "that thy visit that evening was not to thy taste; but I hope that thou wilt consent to my proposal nevertheless ... and wilt not refuse my request."

"What art thou talking about?" inquired Aratoff.

"See here," pursued Kupfer, becoming more and more animated; "there exists here a certain society of amateurs and artists, which from time to time organises readings, concerts, even theatrical representations, for philanthropic objects...."

"And the Princess takes part?" interrupted Aratoff.

"The Princess always takes part in good works--but that is of no consequence. We have got up a literary and musical morning ... and at that performance thou mayest hear a young girl ... a remarkable young girl!--We do not quite know, as yet, whether she will turn out a Rachel or a Viardot ... for she sings splendidly, and declaims and acts.... She has talent of the first cla.s.s, my dear fellow! I am not exaggerating.--So here now ... wilt not thou take a ticket?--Five rubles if thou wishest the first row."

"And where did this wonderful young girl come from?" asked Aratoff.

Kupfer grinned.--"That I cannot say.... Of late she has found an asylum with the Princess. The Princess, as thou knowest, is a patron of all such people.... And it is probable that thou sawest her that evening."

Aratoff started inwardly, faintly ... but made no answer.

"She has even acted somewhere in country districts," went on Kupfer, "and, on the whole, she was created for the theatre. Thou shalt see for thyself!"

"Is her name Clara?" asked Aratoff.

"Yes, Clara...."

"Clara!" interrupted Aratoff again.--"It cannot be!"

"Why not?--Clara it is, ... Clara Militch; that is not her real name ...

but that is what she is called. She is to sing a romance by Glinka ...

and one by Tchaikovsky, and then she will recite the letter from 'Evgeny Onyegin'[55]--Come now! Wilt thou take a ticket?"

"But when is it to be?"

"To-morrow ... to-morrow, at half-past one, in a private hall, on Ostozhyonka Street.... I will come for thee. A ticket at five rubles?...

Here it is.... No, this is a three-ruble ticket.--Here it is.--And here is the affiche.[56]--I am one of the managers."

Aratoff reflected. Platonida Ivanovna entered the room at that moment and, glancing at his face, was suddenly seized with agitation.--"Yasha,"

she exclaimed, "what ails thee? Why art thou so excited? Feodor Feodorovitch, what hast thou been saying to him?"

But Aratoff did not give his friend a chance to answer his aunt's question, and hastily seizing the ticket which was held out to him, he ordered Platonida Ivanovna to give Kupfer five rubles on the instant.

She was amazed, and began to blink her eyes.... Nevertheless, she handed Kupfer the money in silence. Yashenka had shouted at her in a very severe manner.

"She's a marvel of marvels, I tell thee!" cried Kupfer, darting toward the door.--"Expect me to-morrow!"

"Has she black eyes?" called Aratoff after him.

"As black as coal!" merrily roared Kupfer, and disappeared.

Aratoff went off to his own room, while Platonida Ivanovna remained rooted to the spot, repeating: "Help, Lord! Lord, help!"

IV

The large hall in a private house on Ostozhyonka Street was already half filled with spectators when Aratoff and Kupfer arrived. Theatrical representations were sometimes given in that hall, but on this occasion neither stage-scenery nor curtain were visible. Those who had organised the "morning" had confined themselves to erecting a platform at one end, placing thereon a piano and a couple of music-racks, a few chairs, a table with a carafe of water and a gla.s.s, and hanging a curtain of red cloth over the door which led to the room set apart for the artists. In the first row the Princess was already seated, clad in a bright green gown; Aratoff placed himself at some distance from her, after barely exchanging a bow with her. The audience was what is called motley; it consisted chiefly of young men from various inst.i.tutions of learning.

Kupfer, in his quality of a manager, with a white ribbon on the lapel of his dress-coat, bustled and fussed about with all his might; the Princess was visibly excited, kept looking about her, launching smiles in all directions, and chatting with her neighbours ... there were only men in her immediate vicinity.

The first to make his appearance on the platform was a flute-player of consumptive aspect, who spat out ... that is to say, piped out a piece which was consumptive like himself. Two persons shouted "Bravo!" Then a fat gentleman in spectacles, very sedate and even grim of aspect, recited in a ba.s.s voice a sketch by Shtchedrin;[57] the audience applauded the sketch, not him.--Then the pianist, who was already known to Aratoff, presented himself, and pounded out the same Liszt fantasia; the pianist was favoured with a recall. He bowed, with his hand resting on the back of a chair, and after each bow he tossed back his hair exactly like Liszt! At last, after a decidedly long intermission, the red cloth over the door at the rear of the platform moved, was drawn widely apart, and Clara Militch made her appearance. The hall rang with applause. With unsteady steps she approached the front of the platform, came to a halt, and stood motionless, with her large, red, ungloved hands crossed in front of her, making no curtsey, neither bending her head nor smiling.

She was a girl of nineteen, tall, rather broad-shouldered, but well built. Her face was swarthy, partly Hebrew, partly Gipsy in type; her eyes were small and black beneath thick brows which almost met, her nose was straight, slightly up-turned, her lips were thin with a beautiful but sharp curve; she had a huge braid of black hair, which was heavy even to the eye, a low, impa.s.sive, stony brow, tiny ears ... her whole countenance was thoughtful, almost surly. A pa.s.sionate, self-willed nature,--not likely to be either kindly or even intelligent,--but gifted, was manifested by everything about her.

For a while she did not raise her eyes, but suddenly gave a start and sent her intent but not attentive glance, which seemed to be buried in herself, along the rows of spectators.

"What tragic eyes!" remarked a certain grey-haired fop, who sat behind Aratoff, with the face of a courtesan from Revel,--one of Moscow's well-known first-nighters and rounders. The fop was stupid and intended to utter a bit of nonsense ... but he had spoken the truth! Aratoff, who had never taken his eyes from Clara since she had made her appearance, only then recalled that he actually had seen her at the Princess's; and had not only seen her, but had even noticed that she had several times looked at him with particular intentness out of her dark, watchful eyes.

And on this occasion also ... or did he merely fancy that it was so?--on catching sight of him in the first row, she seemed to be delighted, seemed to blush--and again she gazed intently at him. Then, without turning round, she retreated a couple of paces in the direction of the piano, at which the accompanist, the long-haired foreigner, was already seated. She was to execute Glinka's romance, "As soon as I recognised thee...." She immediately began to sing, without altering the position of her hands and without glancing at the notes. Her voice was soft and resonant,--a contralto,--she p.r.o.nounced her words distinctly and forcibly, and sang monotonously, without shading but with strong expression.

"The la.s.s sings with conviction," remarked the same fop who sat behind Aratoff,--and again he spoke the truth.

Shouts of "Bis!" "Bravo!" resounded all about, but she merely darted a swift glance at Aratoff, who was neither shouting nor clapping,--he had not been particularly pleased by her singing,--made a slight bow and withdrew, without taking the arm of the hairy pianist which he had crooked out like a cracknel. She was recalled ... but it was some time before she made her appearance, advanced to the piano with the same uncertain tread as before, and after whispering a couple of words to her accompanist, who was obliged to get and place on the rack before him not the music he had prepared but something else,--she began Tchaikovsky's romance: "No, only he who hath felt the thirst of meeting".... This romance she sang in a different way from the first--in an undertone, as though she were weary ... and only in the line before the last, "He will understand how I have suffered,"--did a ringing, burning cry burst from her. The last line, "And how I suffer...." she almost whispered, sadly prolonging the final word. This romance produced a slighter impression on the audience than Glinka's; but there was a great deal of applause.... Kupfer, in particular, distinguished himself: he brought his hands together in a peculiar manner, in the form of a cask, when he clapped, thereby producing a remarkably sonorous noise. The Princess gave him a large, dishevelled bouquet, which he was to present to the songstress; but the latter did not appear to perceive Kupfer's bowed figure, and his hand outstretched with the bouquet, and she turned and withdrew, again without waiting for the pianist, who had sprung to his feet with still greater alacrity than before to escort her, and who, being thus left in the lurch, shook his hair as Liszt himself, in all probability, never shook his!

During the whole time she was singing Aratoff had been scanning Clara's face. It seemed to him that her eyes, athwart her contracted lashes, were again turned on him. But he was particularly struck by the impa.s.siveness of that face, that forehead, those brows, and only when she uttered her pa.s.sionate cry did he notice a row of white, closely-set teeth gleaming warmly from between her barely parted lips. Kupfer stepped up to him.