"It will pa.s.s off, aunty; give me time."
"It will pa.s.s off, but when? O Lord G.o.d, my Master! is it possible that thou didst love him so? why, he is an old man, Lizotchka. Well, I do not dispute that he is a good man, he does not bite; but what does that signify? we are all good people: the world is large, there will always be plenty of that sort."
"I tell you, that it will all pa.s.s off, it is all over already."
"Listen, Lizotchka, to what I have to say to thee,"--said Marfa Timofeevna, suddenly, making Liza sit down beside her on the bed, and adjusting now her hair, now her kerchief.--"It only seems to you, while it is fresh, that your grief is beyond remedy. Ekh, my darling, for death alone there is no remedy! Only say to thyself: "I won"t give in--so there now!" and afterward thou wilt be amazed thyself--how soon, how well, it will pa.s.s off. Only have patience."
"Aunty,"--replied Liza:--"it is already past, all is over already."
"Past--over--forsooth! Why, even thy little nose has grown pointed, and thou sayest: "It is over--it is over!""
"Yes, it is over, aunty, if you will only help me,"--cried Liza, with sudden animation, and threw herself on Marfa Timofeevna"s neck.--"Dear aunty, be my friend, help me; do not be angry, understand me."
"Why, what is this, what is this, my mother? Don"t frighten me, please; I shall scream in another minute; don"t look at me like that: tell me quickly what thou meanest?"
"I ... I want ..." Liza hid her face in Marfa Timofeevna"s bosom.... "I want to enter a convent,"--she said, in a dull tone.
The old woman fairly leaped on the bed.
"Cross thyself, my mother, Lizotchka; come to thy senses: G.o.d be with thee, what dost thou mean?"--she stammered at last: "lie down, my darling, sleep a little: this comes from lack of sleep, my dear."
Liza raised her head, her cheeks were burning.
"No, aunty,"--she articulated, "do not speak like that. I have made up my mind, I have prayed, I have asked counsel of G.o.d; all is ended, my life with you is ended. Such a lesson is not in vain; and it is not the first time I have thought of this. Happiness was not suited to me; even when I cherished hopes of happiness, my heart was always heavy. I know everything, my own sins and the sins of others, and how papa acquired his wealth; I know everything. All that must be atoned for by prayer--atoned for by prayer. I am sorry for all of you--I am sorry for mamma, for Lyenotchka; but there is no help for it; I feel that I cannot live here; I have already taken leave of everything, I have made my reverence to everything in the house for the last time; something is calling me hence; I am weary; I want to shut myself up forever. Do not hold me back, do not dissuade me; help me, or I will go away alone."
Marfa Timofeevna listened in terror to her niece.
"She is ill, she is raving,"--she thought:--"I must send for a doctor; but for which? Gedeonovsky was praising some one the other day; he"s always lying,--but, perhaps, he told the truth that time." But when she became convinced that Liza was not ill, and was not raving, when to all her objections Liza steadfastly made one and the same reply, Marfa Timofeevna became seriously frightened and grieved.--"But thou dost not know, my darling,"--she began to try to prevail upon her;--"what sort of a life they lead in convents! Why, my own one, they will feed thee with green hemp-oil; they will put on thee coa.r.s.e, awfully coa.r.s.e linen; they will make thee go about cold; thou canst not endure all that, Lizotchka.
All that is the traces of Agafya in thee; it was she who led thee astray. Why, she began by living her life, living a gay life; do thou live thy life also. Let me, at least, die in peace, and then do what thou wilt. And who ever heard of any one going into a convent, all on account of such a goat"s beard--the Lord forgive me!--on account of a man? Come, if thy heart is so heavy, go away on a journey, pray to a saint, have a prayer-service said, but don"t put the black cowl on thy head, my dear little father, my dear little mother...."
And Marfa Timofeevna began to weep bitterly.
Liza comforted her, wiped away her tears, but remained inflexible. In her despair, Marfa Timofeevna tried to resort to threats: she would tell Liza"s mother everything; but even that was of no avail. Only as a concession to the old woman"s urgent entreaties, did Liza consent to defer the fulfilment of her intention for six months; in return, Marfa Timofeevna was compelled to give her her word that she would help her, and obtain the permission of Marya Dmitrievna if, at the end of six months, she had not changed her mind.
With the advent of the first cold weather, Varvara Pavlovna, despite her promise to shut herself up in the depths of the country, after providing herself with money, removed to Petersburg, where she hired a modest but pretty apartment, which had been found for her by Panshin, who had quitted the Government of O * * * before her. During the latter part of his sojourn in O * * * he had completely fallen out of favour with Marya Dmitrievna; he had suddenly ceased to call upon her and hardly ever quitted Lavriki. Varvara Pavlovna had enslaved him, precisely that,--enslaved him; no other word will express her unlimited, irrevocable, irresponsible power over him.
Lavretzky pa.s.sed the winter in Moscow, but in the spring of the following year the news reached him that Liza had entered the B * * *
convent, in one of the most remote corners of Russia.
EPILOGUE
Eight years have pa.s.sed. Spring has come again.... But first, let us say a few words about the fate of Mikhalevitch, Panshin, Mme. Lavretzky--and take our leave of them. Mikhalevitch, after long peregrinations, has finally hit upon his real vocation: he has obtained the post of head inspector in a government inst.i.tution. He is very well satisfied with his lot, and his pupils "adore" him, although they mimic him. Panshin has advanced greatly in rank, and already has a directorship in view; he walks with his back somewhat bent: it must be the cross of the Order of Vladimir, which has been conferred upon him, that drags him forward. The official in him has, decidedly, carried the day over the artist; his still youthful face has turned quite yellow, his hair has grown thin, and he no longer sings or draws, but secretly occupies himself with literature: he has written a little comedy, in the nature of "a proverb,"--and, as every one who writes nowadays "shows up" some one or something, he has shown up in it a coquette, and he reads it surrept.i.tiously to two or three ladies who are favourably disposed toward him. But he has not married, although many fine opportunities of so doing have presented themselves: for this Varvara Pavlovna is responsible. As for her, she lives uninterruptedly in Paris, as of yore: Feodor Ivanitch has given her a bill of exchange on himself, and bought himself free from her,--from the possibility of a second, unexpected invasion. She has grown old and fat, but it is still pretty and elegant. Every person has his own ideal: Varvara Pavlovna has found hers--in the dramatic productions of Dumas fils. She a.s.siduously frequents the theatre where consumptive and sentimental ladies of the frail cla.s.s are put on the stage; to be Mme. Doche seems to her the very apex of human felicity; one day, she declared that she desired no better lot for her daughter. It is to be hoped that fate will deliver Mademoiselle Ada from such felicity: from a rosy, plump child, she has turned into a weak-chested, pale-faced young girl; her nerves are already deranged. The number of Varvara Pavlovna"s admirers has decreased; but they have not transferred their allegiance: she will, in all probability, retain several of them to the end of her life. The most ardent of them, of late, has been a certain Zakurdalo-Skubrnikoff, one of the retired dandies of the Guards, a man of eight and thirty, of remarkably robust build. The Frenchmen who frequent Mme. Lavretzky"s salon call him "_le gros taureau de l"Ukrane_"; Varvara Pavlovna never invites him to her fashionable evening gatherings, but he enjoys her favour in the fullest measure.
So ... eight years have pa.s.sed. Again the sky is breathing forth the beaming happiness of spring; again it is smiling upon the earth and upon men; again, beneath its caress, everything has burst into blossom, into love and song. The town of O * * * has undergone very little change in the course of those eight years; but Marya Dmitrievna"s house seems to have grown young: its recently painted walls shine as in welcome, and the panes of the open windows are crimsoning and glittering in the rays of the setting sun. Through these windows, out upon the street, are wafted the sounds of ringing young voices, of incessant laughter; the whole house seems bubbling with life, and overflowing the brim with merriment. The mistress of the house herself has long since gone to her grave: Marya Dmitrievna died two years after Liza"s profession as a nun; and Marfa Timofeevna did not long survive her niece; they rest side by side in the town cemetery. Nastasya Karpovna, also, is dead; the faithful old woman went, every week, for the s.p.a.ce of several years, to pray over the ashes of her friend.... Her time came, and her bones also were laid in the damp earth. But Marya Dmitrievna"s house has not pa.s.sed into the hands of strangers, has not left her family; the nest has not been destroyed: Lyenotchka, who has become a stately, beautiful young girl, and her betrothed, a fair-haired officer of hussars; Marya Dmitrievna"s son, who has just been married in Petersburg, and has come with his young wife to spend the spring in O * * *; his wife"s sister, an Inst.i.tute-girl of sixteen, with brilliantly scarlet cheeks and clear eyes; Schurotchka, who has also grown up and become pretty--these are the young folks who are making the walls of the Kalitin house re-echo with laughter and chatter.
Everything about it has been changed, everything has been brought into accord with the new inhabitants. Beardless young house-servants, who grin and jest, have taken the places of the former sedate old servitors; where overgrown Roska was wont to stroll, two setters are chasing madly about, and leaping over the divans; the stable has been filled with clean-limbed amblers, high-spirited shaft-horses, fiery trace-horses with braided manes, and riding-horses from the Don; the hours for breakfast, dinner, and supper have become mixed up and confused; according to the expression of the neighbours, "an unprecedented state of affairs" has been established.
On the evening of which we are speaking, the inhabitants of the Kalitin house (the oldest of them, Lyenotchka"s betrothed, was only four and twenty) were engaged in a far from complicated, but, judging from their vigorous laughter, a very amusing game: they were running through the rooms, and catching each other; the dogs, also, were running and barking, and the canaries which hung in cages in front of the windows vied with each other in singing at the tops of their voices, increasing the uproar of ringing volleys of noise with their furious chirping. While this deafening diversion was at its very height, a mud-stained tarantas drove up to the gate, and a man of forty-five, clad in travelling garb, descended from it, and stopped short in amazement. He stood motionless for some time, swept an attentive glance over the house, pa.s.sed through the gate into the yard, and slowly ascended the steps. There was no one in the anteroom to receive him; but the door of the "hall" flew wide open; through it, all flushed, bounced Schurotchka, and instantly, in pursuit of her, with ringing laughter, rushed the whole youthful band.
She came to a sudden halt and fell silent at the sight of the stranger; but the clear eyes fastened upon him were as caressing as ever, the fresh faces did not cease to smile. Marya Dmitrievna"s son stepped up to the visitor, and courteously asked him what he wished.
"I am Lavretzky,"--said the visitor.
A vigorous shout rang out in response--and not because all these young people were so extremely delighted at the arrival of the distant, almost forgotten relative, but simply because they were ready to make an uproar and rejoice on every convenient opportunity. They immediately surrounded Lavretzky: Lyenotchka, in the quality of an old acquaintance, was the first to introduce herself, and to a.s.sure him that, in another moment, she certainly would have recognised him, and then she presented all the rest of the company, calling each one of them, including her betrothed, by his pet name. The whole throng moved through the dining-room to the drawing-room. The hangings in both rooms were different, but the furniture remained the same; Lavretzky recognised the piano; even the same embroidery-frame was standing in the window, in the same position--and almost with the same unfinished bit of embroidery as eight years previously. They made him sit down in a comfortable easy-chair; all seated themselves decorously around him. Questions, exclamations, stories showered down without cessation.
"But it is a long time since we have seen you,"--remarked Lyenotchka, ingenuously:--"and we have not seen Varvara Pavlovna either."
"I should think so!"--interposed her brother, hurriedly. "I carried thee off to Petersburg, but Feodor Ivanitch lived in the country all the time."
"Yes, and mamma has died since, you know."
"And Marfa Timofeevna,"--said Schurotchka.
"And Nastasya Karpovna,"--rejoined Lyenotchka.--"And M"sieu Lemm...."
"What? And is Lemm dead also?"--asked Lavretzky.
"Yes,"--replied young Kalitin:--"he went away from here to Odessa--they say that some one decoyed him thither; and there he died."
"You do not know--whether he left any music behind him?"
"I don"t know,--it is hardly probable."
All fell silent, and exchanged glances. A cloud of sadness had descended upon all the young faces.
"And Matroska is alive,"--suddenly remarked Lyenotchka.
"And Gedeonovsky is alive,"--added her brother.
At the name of Gedeonovsky a vigorous peal of laughter rang out in unison.
"Yes, he is alive, and lies just as he always did,"--went on Marya Dmitrievna"s son:--"and just imagine, that naughty child there" (and he pointed at his wife"s sister, the Inst.i.tute-girl) "put pepper in his snuff-box yesterday."
"How he did sneeze!" exclaimed Lyenotehka:--and again a peal of irrepressible laughter rang out.
"We received news of Liza recently,"--said young Kalitin,--and again everything grew still round about:--"things are well with her,--her health is now improving somewhat."
"Is she still in the same convent?"--asked Lavretzky, not without an effort.
"Yes, still in the same place."
"Does she write to you?"
"No, never; the news reaches us through other people."--A sudden, profound silence ensued. "The angel of silence has flown past," all said to themselves.
"Would not you like to go into the garden?"--Kalitin turned to Lavretzky:--"it is very pretty now, although we have rather neglected it."
Lavretzky went out into the garden, and the first thing that struck his eyes was the bench on which he had once spent with Liza a few happy moments, never to be repeated; it had grown black and crooked; but he recognised it, and his soul was seized by that feeling which has no peer in sweetness and in sorrow,--the feeling of living grief for vanished youth, for happiness which it once possessed. In company with the young people, he strolled through the alleys: the linden-trees had not grown much older and taller during the last eight years, but their shade had become more dense; on the other hand, all the shrubs had sprung upward, the raspberry-bushes had waxed strong, the hazel copse had become entirely impenetrable, and everywhere there was an odour of thickets, forest, gra.s.s, and lilacs.