The Diary of a Superfluous Man and Other Stories Part 7

"Stop!" yelled Ivan Andreevitch.--"Yuditch, for the last time I say to thee, I entreat thee, Yuditch, confess."

"I cannot," moaned Yuditch.

"Then seize him, the old sycophant!... Flog him to death! On my head be it!" thundered the maddened old man. The torture began....

Suddenly the door flew open, and Vasily entered. He was almost paler than his father, his hands trembled, his upper lip was raised and disclosed a row of white, even teeth.

"I am guilty," he said in a dull but steady voice.--"I took the money."

The men stopped short.

"Thou! what?! thou, Vaska! without the consent of Yuditch?"

"No!"--said Yuditch:--"with my consent. I myself gave the key to Vasily Ivanovitch. Dear little father, Vasily Ivanovitch! why have you deigned to trouble yourself?"

"So that 's who the thief is!"--shouted Ivan Andreevitch.--"Thanks, Vasily, thanks! But I shall not spare thee, Yuditch, all the same. Why didst not thou confess all to me at once? Hey, there, you! why have you stopped? or do you no longer recognise my authority? And I 'll settle with you, my dear little dove!" he added, turning to Vasily.

The men were on the point of setting to work again on Yuditch.

"Don't touch him!" whispered Vasily through his teeth. The servants did not heed him.--"Back!" he shouted, and hurled himself upon them.... They staggered back.

"Ah! a rebel!"--moaned Ivan Andreevitch, and raising his cane, he advanced on his son.

Vasily leaped aside, grasped the hilt of his sword, and bared it half-way. All began to tremble. Anna Pavlovna, attracted by the noise, frightened and pale, made her appearance in the doorway.

Ivan Andreevitch's face underwent a frightful change. He staggered, dropped his cane, and fell heavily into an arm-chair, covering his face with both hands. No one stirred; all stood as though rooted to the spot, not excepting even Vasily. He convulsively gripped the steel hilt of his sword, his eyes flashed with a morose, evil gleam....

"Go away all ... begone,"--said Ivan Andreevitch in a low voice, without removing his hands from his face.

The whole throng withdrew. Vasily halted on the threshold, then suddenly tossed his head, embraced Yuditch, kissed his mother's hand ... and two hours later he was no longer in the village. He had departed for Petersburg.

On the evening of that day, Yuditch was sitting on the porch of the house-serfs' cottage. The servants swarmed around him, pitied him, and bitterly blamed the master.

"Stop, my lads," he said to them at last;--"enough of that .... why do you abuse him? I don't believe that he, our dear little father, is pleased himself with his desperate deed...."

As a result of this affair, Vasily never saw his parents again. Ivan Andreevitch died without him, probably with such grief at his heart as may G.o.d spare any of us from experiencing. In the meantime, Vasily Ivanovitch went out in society, made merry after his own fashion, and squandered money. How he obtained the money, I cannot say with certainty. He procured for himself a French servant, a clever and intelligent young fellow, a certain Boursier. This man became pa.s.sionately attached to him, and aided him in all his numerous performances. I have no intention of narrating to you in detail all the pranks of my great-uncle; he distinguished himself by such unbounded audacity, such snaky tact, such incredible cold-bloodedness, such adroit and subtle wit, that, I must confess, I can understand the limitless power of that unprincipled man over the most n.o.ble souls....

Soon after his father's death, Vasily Ivanovitch, notwithstanding all his tact, was challenged to a duel by an outraged husband. He fought, severely wounded his antagonist, and was forced to quit the capital: he was ordered to reside permanently on his hereditary estate. Vasily Ivanovitch was thirty years of age. You can easily imagine, gentlemen, with what feelings this man, who had become accustomed to the brilliant life of the capital, journeyed to his native place. They say that, on the road, he frequently got out of his kibitka, flung himself face down on the snow, and wept. No one in Lutchinovko recognised the former jolly, amiable Vasily Ivanovitch. He spoke to no one, he went off hunting from morning until night, with visible impatience endured the timid caresses of his mother, and jeered pitilessly at his brothers, and at their wives (both of them were already married)....

So far I have said nothing to you, I believe, about Olga Ivanovna. She had been brought to Lutchinovko as an infant at the breast; she had almost died on the way. Olga Ivanovna had been reared, as the saying is, in the fear of G.o.d and of her parents.... It must be confessed that Ivan Andreevitch and Anna Pavlovna both treated her like a daughter. But there was concealed in her a feeble spark of that fire which blazed so brightly in the soul of Vasily Ivanovitch. In the meantime, while Ivan Andreevitch's own children did not dare to indulge in conjectures concerning the strange, speechless quarrel between their parents, Olga, from her earliest years had been disturbed and pained by the position of Anna Pavlovna. Like Vasily, she loved independence; all oppression revolted her. She had attached herself to her benefactress with all the powers of her soul; she hated old Lutchinoff, and more than once, as she sat at table, she had fixed upon him such sombre glances, that even the man who was serving the viands felt frightened. Ivan Andreevitch did not notice all those glances, because, in general, he paid no attention whatever to his family.

At first, Anna Pavlovna endeavoured to exterminate this hatred in her--but several bold questions on Olga's part forced her to complete silence. Ivan Andreevitch's children adored Olga, and the old woman loved her also, although with rather a cold affection.

Prolonged sorrow had crushed all cheerfulness, all strong feeling, in this poor woman; nothing so clearly proves Vasily's bewitching amiability as the fact that he made even his mother love him ardently.

Effusions of tenderness on the part of children was not in the spirit of that age, and therefore it is not surprising that Olga did not venture to display her devotion, although she always kissed Anna Pavlovna's hand with particular respect in the evening, when she bade her good-night.

She was barely able to read and write. Twenty years later, Russian girls began to read novels in the style of the "Adventures of Marquis G***,"--"Fanfan and Lolotte,"--of "Alexyei; or, The Cot in the Forest";--they began to learn to play on the clavichord and to sing romances in the style of the following, once very familiar song:

"Men in the light Cling to us like flies"--and so forth.

But in the '70s (Olga Ivanovna was born in the year 1757), our rustic beauties had no conception of all these accomplishments. It would be difficult for us now to picture to ourselves a young Russian girl of good birth of that epoch. We can, it is true, judge from our grandmothers as to the degree of education of n.o.ble gentlewomen in the times of Katherine II; but how is one to distinguish that which was inculcated in them in the course of their long life, from that which they were in the days of their youth?

Olga Ivanovna spoke a little French, but with a strong Russian accent; in her day, there was no thought of such a thing as the _emigres_.[19]

In a word, with all her good qualities, she was, nevertheless, a decided _savage_, and, probably, in the simplicity of her heart, she more than once administered chastis.e.m.e.nt with her own hands to some unlucky maid....

Some time before Vasily Ivanovitch's arrival, Olga Ivanovna had been betrothed to a neighbour,--Pavel Afanasievitch Rogatchyoff, an extremely good-natured and honourable man. Nature had forgotten to endow him with gall. His own servants did not obey him; they sometimes all went off, from the first to the last of them, and left poor Rogatchyoff without any dinner ... but nothing could disturb the tranquillity of his soul.

He had been distinguished, even from his childhood, by his obesity and sluggishness; he had never served anywhere, and he was fond of going to church and singing in the choir. Look at that good-natured, round face, gentlemen; gaze at that tranquil, brilliant smile .... does not it make you feel cheerful yourselves? Once in a while his father had driven over to Lutchinovko, and had brought with him, on festival days, his Pavlusha, whom the little Lutchinoffs tormented in every possible way.

Pavlusha grew up, began to go to Ivan Andreevitch's of his own accord, fell in love with Olga Ivanovna, and offered her his hand and his heart--not to her personally, but to her benefactors. Her benefactors gave their consent. They never even thought of asking Olga Ivanovna whether she liked Rogatchyoff. At that epoch,--as our grandmothers used to say,--"such luxuries were not in fashion." But Olga speedily got used to her betrothed: it was impossible not to grow attached to that gentle, indulgent being.

Rogatchyoff had received no education whatsoever; all he could say in French was "bonzhour"--and in secret he even regarded that word as improper. And some jester had also taught him the following, which professed to be a French song: "Sonetchka, Sonetchka! Que voulez-vous de moi--I adore you--mais je ne peux pas."... He was always humming this song in an undertone when he felt in good spirits. His father also was a man of indescribably kind disposition; he was forever going about in a long nankeen coat, and no matter what was said to him, he a.s.sented to everything with a smile.

From the time of Pavel Afanasievitch's betrothal both the Rogatchyoffs--father and son--began to bustle about frightfully; they made over their house, they built on various "galleries," they chatted in friendly wise with the workmen, they treated them to vodka. They did not manage to finish all the additional building by winter--so they deferred the wedding until the summer; in the summer, Ivan Andreevitch died--and the wedding was postponed until the following spring; in the winter, Vasily Ivanovitch arrived. Rogatchyoff was introduced to him; Vasily received him coldly and carelessly, and in the course of time, frightened him to such a degree by his arrogant treatment that poor Rogatchyoff quivered like a leaf at his mere appearance, maintained silence, and smiled constrainedly. Vasily once came near driving him off for good--by offering to bet with him that he, Rogatchyoff, was unable to stop smiling. Poor Pavel Afanasievitch almost wept with confusion, but--'t is an actual fact!--the smile, the very stupid, constrained smile, would not quit his face! And Vasily slowly toyed with the ends of his neckcloth, and stared at him in quite too scornful a manner.

Pavel Afanasievitch's father also learned of Vasily's arrival, and a few days later--for the sake of "the greater solemnity"--he set out for Lutchinovko with the intention of "congratulating the amiable visitor on his arrival in his native parts." Afanasy Lukitch was renowned throughout the whole countryside for his eloquence--that is to say, for his ability to utter, without hesitation, a rather long and cunningly-concocted speech, with a slight admixture of bookish words.

Alas! on this occasion he did not maintain his reputation; he became confused much worse than his son, Pavel Afanasievitch. He stammered out something very unintelligible, and, although he had never touched vodka in his life, having this time, "by way of countenance," drunk a small gla.s.sful (he had found Vasily at luncheon), he had endeavoured, at least, to clear his throat with a certain amount of independence, and had not produced the smallest sound. As he set out for home, Pavel Afanasievitch whispered to his parent: "Well, dear little father?"

Afanasy Lukitch replied to him with irritation, also in a whisper: "Don't mention it!"

The Rogatchyoffs began to come more rarely to Lutchinovko. But they were not the only ones whom Vasily intimidated: he aroused in his brothers, in their wives, even in Anna Pavlovna herself, a painful and involuntary sense of discomfort .... they began to avoid him in all possible ways.

Vasily could not help noticing this, but, apparently, he had no intention of altering his behaviour to them, when, all of a sudden, at the beginning of the spring, he again revealed himself as the same amiable, charming man they had previously known him to be....

The first revelation of this sudden change was on the occasion of Vasily's unexpected call on the Rogatchyoffs. Afanasy Lukitch, in particular, was thoroughly daunted by the sight of Lutchinoff's calash, but his fear very speedily vanished. Never had Vasily been more amiable and merry. He linked his arm in the arm of young Rogatchyoff, walked out with him to inspect the buildings, chatted with the carpenters, gave them advice, himself made a few notches with the axe, ordered them to show him Afanasy Lukitch's stud-horses, himself drove them at the end of a rope--and altogether, by his cordial amiability, reduced the kind-hearted steppe-dwellers to such a condition that they both repeatedly embraced him. At home, also, Vasily turned all heads for a few days as of yore: he devised various amusing games, he procured musicians, invited in the neighbours of both s.e.xes, narrated the t.i.ttle-tattle of the town to the old ladies in the most diverting manner, paid some court to the young women, invented unheard-of amus.e.m.e.nts, fireworks, and so forth:--in a word, he enlivened everything and everybody. The sad, gloomy house of the Lutchinoffs was suddenly converted into a noisy, brilliant, enchanting sort of dwelling, of which the whole countryside talked.--This sudden change amazed many, delighted all, and various rumours got into circulation; the knowing ones said that some hidden trouble had, up to that time, been afflicting Vasily Ivanovitch, that the possibility of returning to the capital had presented itself to him.... But no one divined the true cause of Vasily Ivanovitch's regeneration.

Olga Ivanovna, gentlemen, was very far from being uncomely.--But her beauty consisted rather in remarkable softness and freshness of person, in a tranquil charm of movement, than in strict regularity of features.

Nature had endowed her with a certain independence; her education--she had been reared an orphan--had developed in her caution and firmness.

Olga did not belong to the category of quiet and languid young gentlewomen; but one feeling alone had fully ripened in her: hatred for her benefactor. However, other and more womanly pa.s.sions also could flame up in Olga Ivanovna's soul with unusual, unhealthy force .... but there was in her none of that proud coldness, nor that compact strength of soul, nor that selfish concentration, without which every pa.s.sion speedily vanishes.--The first outbursts of such half-active, half-pa.s.sive souls are sometimes remarkably violent; but they very soon undergo a change, especially when it becomes a question of the ruthless application of accepted principles; they fear the consequences.... And, yet, gentlemen, I must confess to you frankly: women of that sort produce upon me a very strong impression....

(At these words, the narrator tossed off a gla.s.s of water at one draught.--"Nonsense! nonsense!"--I thought, as I looked at his round chin:--"on you, my dear friend, no one in the world produces 'a very strong impression.'") ...

Piotr Feodorovitch went on:

Gentlemen, I believe in blood, in race. There was more blood in Olga Ivanovna, than, for example, in her nominal sister--Natalya. How did that "blood" show itself?--you ask me.--Why, in everything; in the outline of her hands and of her lips, in the sound of her voice, in her glance, in her walk, in the way she dressed her hair,--in the folds of her gown, in short. In all these trifles there was a certain hidden something, although I must admit that that .... how shall I express it?.... that distinction which had fallen to the lot of Olga Ivanovna would not have attracted the attention of Vasily if he had met her in Petersburg. But in the country, in the wilds, she not only excited his attention,--but even, altogether, was the sole cause of the change of which I have just spoken.

Judge for yourselves: Vasily Ivanovitch was fond of enjoying life; he could not help being bored in the country; his brothers were kind-hearted fellows, but extremely limited in mind; he had nothing in common with them. His sister Natalya and her husband had had four children in the s.p.a.ce of three years; between her and Vasily lay a whole abyss... Anna Pavlovna went to church, prayed, fasted, and prepared herself for death. There remained only Olga, a rosy, timid, charming young girl... At first Vasily did not notice her ... and who would turn his attention on an adopted child, an orphan, a foundling?.... One day, at the very beginning of spring, he was walking through the garden, and with his cane switching off the heads of the chicory, those stupid yellow flowers which make their appearance in such abundance first of all, in the meadows as yet hardly green.--He was strolling in the garden in front of the house, raised his head--and beheld Olga Ivanovna.--She was sitting with her side to the window, and gazing pensively at a striped kitten, which, purring and blinking, had cuddled down on her lap, and with great satisfaction was presenting its little nose to the spring sunshine, already fairly brilliant. Olga Ivanovna wore a white morning-gown with short sleeves; her bare, faintly-rosy, as yet not fully-developed shoulders and arms breathed forth freshness and health; a small cap discreetly confined her thick, soft, silky locks; her face was slightly flushed; she had not been long awake. Her slender, supple neck was bent forward so charmingly; her unconfined form reposed so engagingly and modestly that Vasily Ivanovitch (a great connoisseur!) involuntarily halted and took a look. It suddenly came into his head that Olga Ivanovna ought not to be left in her pristine ignorance, that in time she might turn out to be a very charming and very amiable woman.

He crept up to the window, raised himself on tiptoe, and imprinted a silent kiss on Olga Ivanovna's smooth, white arm, a little below the elbow.--Olga screamed and sprang to her feet, the kitten elevated its tail, and leaped into the garden; Vasily Ivanovitch detained her with his hand.... Olga blushed all over, to her very ears; he began to jest at her fright .... invited her to walk with him; but suddenly Olga Ivanovna noticed the negligence of her attire--"more swiftly than the swift-footed doe," she slipped into the next room.

That same day, Vasily set off for the Rogatchyoffs'. He suddenly grew gay, and brightened up in spirit. Vasily did not fall in love with Olga, no!--one must not trifle with the word love.... He had found for himself an occupation, he had set himself a task, and was rejoicing with the joy of an active man. He never even called to mind the fact that she was his mother's adopted child, the betrothed of another man; he did not deceive himself for a single instant; he was very well aware that she could not be his wife.... Perhaps pa.s.sion was his excuse--not a lofty, not a n.o.ble pa.s.sion, 't is true, but, nevertheless, a tolerably strong and torturing pa.s.sion. Of course he did not fall in love like a child; he did not surrender himself to unbounded raptures; he knew well what he wanted and what he was aiming at.

Vasily Ivanovitch possessed to perfection the ability to win the favour of others, even of those who were prejudiced or timid. Olga speedily ceased to shun him. Vasily Ivanovitch introduced her into a new world.

He imported a clavichord for her, gave her music lessons (he played very fairly himself on the flute), he read books to her, he had long talks with her.... The poor young steppe-girl's head was turned; Vasily had completely subjugated her. He knew how to talk to her about that which, hitherto, had been foreign to her, and to talk in a language which she understood. Olga gradually brought herself to express all her feelings to him; he helped her, suggested to her the words which she could not find; he did not startle her; he now repressed, now encouraged her impulses.... Vasily occupied himself with her education not out of a disinterested desire to awaken and develop her abilities; he simply wanted to bring her somewhat closer to him, and he knew, moreover, that it is easier to attract an inexperienced, shy, but vain young girl by the mind than by the heart. Even if Olga had been a remarkable being, Vasily could not possibly have observed it, because he treated her like a child; but you already know, gentlemen, that there was nothing noteworthy about Olga.

Vasily strove, as much as possible, to work on her imagination, and often of an evening she would leave him with such a whirl of new images, words, and thoughts in her head, that she was unable to get to sleep until dawn, and sighing sadly, she pressed her burning cheeks against her cold pillows; or she rose and went to the window, and gazed timorously and eagerly into the far-away gloom. Vasily filled every moment of her life; she could not think of any one else. She soon ceased to take any notice of Rogatchyoff. Vasily, being a shrewd and clever man, did not speak to Olga in his presence; but he either confused him to the verge of tears, or got up some boisterous game, a stroll in the evening, a rowing-party on the river by night with lanterns and music,--in a word, he did not give Pavel Afanasievitch a chance to recover his ground. But, despite all Vasily Ivanovitch's cleverness, Rogatchyoff was dimly conscious that he, the betrothed and the future husband of Olga, had become, as it were, a stranger to her .... but, in his infinite good-heartedness, he was afraid of wounding her by a reproach, although he really loved her and prized her affection. When he was alone with her, he did not know what to talk about, and merely endeavoured to serve her in every possible way. Two months pa.s.sed.

Every trace of independence, of will, disappeared in Olga; the weak and taciturn Rogatchyoff could not serve her as a prop; she did not even try to resist the fascination, and with a sinking heart she gave herself unconditionally to Vasily....

Olga Ivanovna, it is probable, then learned the joys of love; but not for long. Although Vasily--for the lack of any other occupation--not only did not discard her, but even became attached to her, and petted her, yet Olga lost herself to such a degree that she did not find bliss even in love, and nevertheless she was unable to tear herself away from Vasily. She began to be afraid of everything, she did not dare to think; she talked of nothing; she ceased to read; she became a prey to melancholy. Sometimes Vasily succeeded in drawing her after him, and making her forget everybody and everything; but on the following day he found her pale and silent, with cold hands, with a senseless smile on her lips....

A decidedly difficult time began for Vasily; but no difficulties could daunt him. He concentrated himself completely, like an expert gambler.

He could not count upon Olga Ivanovna in the slightest degree; she was incessantly betraying herself, paling, and blushing and weeping ... her new role was beyond her strength. Vasily toiled for two; in his boisterous and noisy joy only an experienced observer could have detected a feverish tenseness; he played with his brothers, his sisters, the Rogatchyoffs, the neighbours, both men and women,--as though they had been p.a.w.ns; he was eternally on the alert, he never allowed a single glance, a single movement to escape him, although he appeared to be the most care-free of mortals; every morning he entered into battle, and every evening he celebrated a victory. He was not in the least oppressed by this strange activity; he slept four hours a day, he ate very little, and was healthy, fresh, and gay. In the meantime, the wedding-day was approaching; Vasily succeeded in convincing Pavel Afanasievitch himself of the necessity of a postponement; then he despatched him to Moscow to make some purchases, and himself entered into correspondence with his Petersburg friends. He exerted himself not so much out of compa.s.sion for Olga Ivanovna, as out of a desire and love for fuss and bustle.... Moreover, he had begun to grow tired of Olga Ivanovna, and more than once already, after a fierce outburst of pa.s.sion, he had looked at her as he had been wont to look at Rogatchyoff. Lutchinoff always remained a puzzle to every one; in the very coldness of his implacable spirit you felt conscious of the presence of a strange, almost southern flame, and in the maddest heat of pa.s.sion, cold emanated from that man.--In the presence of others, he upheld Olga Ivanovna as before; but when he was alone with her, he played with her as a cat plays with a mouse--he either terrified her with sophisms, or he exhibited heavy and vicious tedium, or, in conclusion, he threw himself at her feet again, swept her away, as a whirlwind sweeps a chip .... and he was not then pretending to be in love ... but really was swooning with it himself...