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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..79a5545 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55024 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55024) diff --git a/old/55024-8.txt b/old/55024-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7e0e56c..0000000 --- a/old/55024-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7019 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen of Spades and other stories, by -Alexander Pushkin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Queen of Spades and other stories - -Author: Alexander Pushkin - -Translator: Mrs Sutherland Edwards - -Release Date: July 1, 2017 [EBook #55024] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN OF SPADES, OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -Images generously made available by the Internet Archive. - - - - - -THE QUEEN OF SPADES - -AND OTHER STORIES. - -BY - -ALEXANDER PUSHKIN. - -TRANSLATED BY - -MRS. SUTHERLAND EDWARDS. - -_BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED._ - -LONDON: - -CROOME & CO., - -322, UPPER STREET, N. - -1892 - - - - -CONTENTS - - BIOGRAPHY OF PUSHKIN - THE QUEEN OF SPADES - THE PISTOL SHOT - THE SNOWSTORM - THE UNDERTAKER - THE POSTMASTER - THE LADY RUSTIC - KIRDJALI - THE HISTORY OF THE VILLAGE OF GOROHINA - PETER THE GREAT'S NEGRO - THE GYPSIES - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - "THE OLD MAGICIAN CAME AT ONCE" - "SEATED BEFORE HER LOOKING GLASS" - "PAUL AND LISAVETA" - "THERE SHE SHED TEARS" - "SHE TORE IT INTO A HUNDRED PIECES" - "A FOOTMAN IN A GREASY DRESSING GOWN" - "A STRANGE MAN HAD APPEARED" - "ONE GLANCE SHOWED HER THAT HE WAS NOT THERE" - "HERMANN STARTED AND FELL BACKWARDS" - "HE SAW BEFORE HIM A QUEEN OF SPADES" - "THE OFFICER SEIZED A BRASS CANDLESTICK" - "HERE IS A MEMENTO OF OUR DUEL" - "WE CLUTCHED OUR SWORDS" - "HIS LIFE AT LAST WAS IN MY HANDS" - "SILVIO! _YOU_ KNEW SILVIO?" - "MASHA THREW HERSELF AT HIS FEET" - "THE LOVERS MET IN THE PINE WOOD" - "SHE BURST INTO TEARS" - "A TIME OF GLORY AND DELIGHT" - "IN THE IVY BOWER" - - - - -PUSHKIN. - - -Alexander Sergueievitch Pushkin came of a noble family, so ancient that -it was traced back to that Alexander Nevsky who, in the thirteenth -century, gained a great victory over the Swedes upon the ice of the -River Neva, in token whereof he was surnamed "Nevsky" of the Neva. - -His mother, Nadejda Ossipovna Hannibal, was the grand-daughter of -Abraham Petrovitch Hannibal, Peter the Great's famous negro. His -father, Surguei Lvovitch Pushkin, was a frivolous man of pleasure. - -The poet was born on the 26th of May, 1799, at Moscow. He was an -awkward and a silent child. He was educated by French tutors. A poor -scholar, he read with eagerness whatever he could get in his father's -library, chiefly the works of French authors. His brother states -that at eleven years old Pushkin knew French literature by heart. -This cannot, of course, be taken literally; but it shows under what -influence he grew up. In October, 1811, he entered the Lyceum of -Tsarskoe Selo. Among the students a society was soon formed, whose -members were united by friendship and by a taste for literature. They -brought out several periodicals, in which tales and poems formed the -chief features. Of this society (the late Prince Gortchakoff belonged -to it) Pushkin was the leading spirit. His first printed poem appeared -in the _Messenger of Europe_ in 1814. At a public competition in 1815, -at which the veteran poet Derjavin was present, Pushkin read his -"Memories of Tsarskoe Selo." This poem, which contains many beautiful -passages, so delighted Derjavin, that he wished to embrace the young -author; but Pushkin fled in confusion from the hall. - -In June, 1817, Pushkin's free and careless student life ended. After -finishing his course at the Lyceum he went to St. Petersburg, and, -though he entered thoroughly into the dissipated pleasures of its -turbulent youth, he still clung to the intellectual society of such men -as Jukovsky and Karamsin, men occupied in literature, whose friendship -he valued very highly. - -At that time society was much disturbed. Political clubs were -everywhere being formed. In every drawing-room new views were freely -and openly advanced; and in these discussions the satire and brilliant -verse of Pushkin attracted general attention. These at last brought -him into great danger. But Karamsin came to his rescue, and managed -to get him an appointment at Ekaterinoslavl, in the office of the -Chief Inspector of the Southern Settlements. There he remained till -1824, travelling from place to place, first with the Raevskys to the -Caucasus, and thence again with them through the Crimea. This journey -gave him materials for his "Prisoner of the Caucasus," and "Fountain of -Bachtchisarai." Both poems reveal the influence of Byron. - -Towards the end of 1820 he went to Bessarabia with his chief, who had -just been appointed viceroy of the province. Once, on account of some -quarrel, this person, Insoff by name, sent Pushkin to Ismail. There the -poet joined a band of gypsies and remained with them for some time in -the Steppes. In 1823 he went to Odessa, having been transferred to the -office of the new governor-general, Count Vorontsoff, who succeeded -Insoff. - -Here he wrote part of "Evguenie Onegin," a sort of Russian "Don Juan," -full of sublime passages and varied by satire and bitter scorn. This -work has lately been formed the subject of a very successful opera -by Tchaikovski, who took from Pushkin's poems a story now known and -admired by every educated Russian. - -The poet, however, did not get on with his new chief. A scathing -epigram upon Vorontsoff led the count to ask for Pushkin's removal from -Odessa, "where," he said, "excessive flattery had turned the young -maids head." - -Pushkin had to resign; and early in August, 1824, he was sent into -retirement to live under the supervision of the local authorities at -Michailovskoe, a village belonging to his father in the province of -Pskoff. Here the elder Pushkin kept a petty watch over his son, whom he -regarded as a perverted nature and, indeed, a kind of monster. - -In October, however, the father left Michailovskoe, and the poet -remained alone with Arina Rodionovna, an old woman who had nursed -him in childhood, and whose tales had first inspired him with a love -of Russian popular poetry. At Michailovskoe, Pushkin continued his -"Evguenie Onegin," finished "The Gypsies," and wrote the drama of -"Boris Godunoff." Here he lived more than two years--years of seclusion -following a long period of town life and dissipation. - -These two years spent in the simple, pleasant company of country -neighbours proved a turning point in his career. Now for the first time -he had leisure to look about him, to meditate, and to rest. - -He had come into the country with a passionate love for everything -that showed the feeling or fancy of the Russian peasant. His taste -for popular poetry was insatiable. He listened to his old nurse's -stories, collected and noted down songs, studied the habits and customs -of Russian villages, and began a serious study of Russian history. -All this helped greatly to develop the popular side of his genius. He -afterwards relinquished his earlier models of the romantic school, and -sought a simpler, truer inspiration in the pages of Shakespeare. - -Writing to a friend, Bashkin says that he has brought up from the -country to Moscow the two last cantos of "Evguenie Onegin," ready for -the press, a poem called "The Little House at Kolomna," and several -dramatic scenes, including "The Miser Knight," "Mozart and Salieri," -"The Beast during the Plague" and "The Commander's Statue." - -"Besides that," he goes on to say, "I have written about thirty short -poems, Nor is that, all, I have also (a great secret) written some -prose--five short tales." - -Fortunately for him, Pushkin was living in the country, when, in -December, 1825, the insurrection and military revolt against the -Emperor Nicholas, who had just ascended the throne, broke out at St. -Petersburg. - -Pushkin was affiliated to the secret society, with Pestle and Ryleieff -at its head, which had organised the rebellion; and, on receiving -a summons from his confederates, he started for the capital. So, -at least, says Alexander Herzen in his curious "Development of -Revolutionary Ideas in Russia." On leaving his country house, Pushkin -met three ill omens. First a hare crossed his path, next he saw a -priest, and, finally, he met a funeral. He went on, however, towards -Moscow, and there learned that the insurrection had been crushed. The -five principal leaders were executed, and whole families were exiled to -Siberia. - -In September, 1826, the Emperor Nicholas had an interview with Pushkin -at Moscow. Pushkin replied simply and frankly to all the Tsar's -questions, and the latter at last promised in future to be himself sole -censor of the poet's works. - -Pushkin remained at Moscow till about the end of the winter of 1827, -when he was allowed to go to St. Petersburg. There he afterwards -chiefly resided, returning sometimes to the country to work, usually in -autumn, when his power of production, he said, was strongest. - -In the summer of 1829 Pushkin visited the Army of the Caucasus then -operating against the Turks. He describes his experiences in his -"Journey to Erzeroum." - -On the 18th of February, 1831, he married Natalia Nikolaevna -Gontcharova, and soon afterwards received a Foreign Office appointment -with a salary of 5,000 roubles. - -In August, 1833, meaning to write a novel on the Pugatcheff -Insurrection, Pushkin paid a short visit to Kazan and Orenburg to -acquaint himself with the locality and collect materials. But his tale, -"The Captain's Daughter," appeared considerably later. - -Pushkin and his wife were invited to the court balls, and the Emperor -was very gracious and attentive to the poet. - -This roused the jealousy of the court nobles, though in descent -Pushkin was not inferior to many of them. The studied hauteur of these -personages caused the poet much irritation, and led him to waste much -energy on petty struggles for social precedence. He was, moreover, -constantly in lack of means to meet the expenses attending his -position. Partly on this account he undertook, in 1836, the editorship -of the _Contemporary Review_, and continued it until his death. In -the four numbers issued under his care, Pushkin published original -articles, besides the translations then so much in vogue. - -All the publications of that time were made to serve the personal aims -of their editor. It was useless to seek in them impartiality. Pushkin's -criticism, however, were independent, and for this reason they made -a deep impression. On starting his Review he had taken great care -to entrust the criticism to a small circle of the most accomplished -writers. - -Pushkin's correspondence throws full light on his character, and -reveals it as frank, sincere, and independent. His letters show that he -had original ideas on literature, on contemporary politics, on social -and domestic relations, and, in short, on every subject. These views -were always clear and independent of party. - -During his later years the poet felt a longing for the country. As -early as 1835 he petitioned for some years' leave in order that he -might retire from the capital. In his last poem, "To my Wife," he says -how weary he is of noisy town existence and how he longs for rest. - -At the end of 1836 scandals were circulated at St. Petersburg about -his wife. Dantès von Heckeeren, an officer in the Horse Guards, began -openly to pay her attention. Pushkin and many of his friends received -anonymous letters maliciously hinting at Dantès success. Dantès's -father, a dissipated old man, threw oil upon the flames. Meeting Madame -Pushkin in society, he did his best to make her quarrel with, and leave -her husband. - -All this being repeated to Pushkin, greatly incensed him. He challenged -young Heckeeren, but the latter made an offer to Madame Pushkin's -sister, and married her. This did little to mend matters. Pushkin -withdrew the challenge, but nursed his hatred for Dantès, and would not -receive him in his house. - -Meanwhile the scandal grew, and the two Heckeerens continued their -persecution of Madame Pushkin. In society, Dantès was said to have -married the sister-in-law only to pay court to the wife. Pushkin, -always convinced of his wife's innocence, showed for her the -tenderest consideration. He wrote, however, a very insulting letter -to old Heckeeren after which a duel between Pushkin and the son -became inevitable. It was fought on the banks of the Black Elver, -near the commandant of St. Petersburg's summer residence. After it -Dantès Heckeeren, no longer able to remain in Russia, resigned his -commission and went to France, where he took up politics, and, as Baron -d'Heckeeren, was known as a senator in the Second Empire. - -Pushkin was already wounded in the body when he fired at Dantès, and -hit the arm with which Dantès had guarded his breast. - -"At six o'clock in the afternoon," writes Jukovsky, to the poet's -father, "Alexander was brought home in a hopeless condition by -Lieutenant--Colonel Dansasse, the old schoolfellow who had acted as his -second. The butler carried him from the carriage into the house. - -"It grieves you, my friend," said Pushkin, "to see me thus?" Then he -asked for clean linen. While he was undressing, Madame Pushkin, not -knowing what had happened, wished to come in. But her husband called -out loudly, "_N'entrez pas, il y a du monde chez moi._" He was afraid -of alarming her. She was not admitted till he was already lying on the -couch. - -"How happy I am," were his first words to her; "I am still alive, with -you by my side. Be comforted, you are not to blame. I know it was not -your fault." Meanwhile he did not let her know that his wound was -serious. Doctors were sent for--Scholtz and Sadler came. Pushkin asked -everyone to leave the room. - -"I am in a bad way," he said, holding out his hand to Scholtz. After -examining him Sadler went off to fetch the necessary instruments. Left -alone with Scholtz, Pushkin inquired what he thought of his condition. - -"Tell me candidly." - -"You are in danger." - -"Say, rather, that I am dying." - -"It is my duty not to conceal from you even that," replied Scholtz. -"But we shall have the opinion of the other doctors who have been sent -for." - -"_Je vous remercie; vous avez agi en honnête homme envers moi,_" said -Pushkin; adding after a pause, "_Il faut que j'arrange ma maison_." - -"Do you wish to see any of your family?" asked Scholtz. - -"Farewell, my friends," said Pushkin, looking towards his books. - -Whether at that moment he was taking leave of animate or inanimate -friends I know not. After another pause, he said: - -"Do you think I shall not last another hour?" - -"No. But I thought you might like to see some of your friends." - -He asked for several. When Spaski (another doctor) came near and tried -to give him hope, Pushkin waved his hand in dissent, and from that -moment apparently ceased to think about himself. All his anxiety was -for his wife. By this time Prince and Princess Viasemsky, Turgueneff, -Count Vielgorsky, and myself had come. Princess Viasemsky was with the -wife, who, in terrible distress, glided like a spectre in and out of -the room where her husband lay. He was on a couch with his back to the -window and door, and unable to see her; though every time she entered -or merely stood in the doorway he was conscious of it. - -"Is my wife here?" he asked; "take her away." He was afraid to let her -come near him lest she should be pained by his sufferings, though he -bore them with wonderful fortitude. - -"What is my wife doing?" he asked once of Spaski. "She, poor thing, is -suffering innocently. Society will devour her!" - -"I have been in thirty battles," said Dr. Arendt; "and I have seen -many men die, but very few like him." - -It was strange how in those last hours of his existence he seemed to -have changed. The storm which only a few hours before had raged so -fiercely in him had disappeared, leaving no trace behind. In the midst -of his suffering he recollected that he had the day before received an -invitation to attend the funeral of one of Gretcheff's sons. - -"If you see Gretcheff," he said to Spaski, "give him my kind regards, -and tell him how sincerely I sympathise with him in his affliction." - -Asked to confess and to receive the sacrament, Pushkin assented gladly. -It was settled that the priest should be invited to come in the morning. - -At midnight, Dr. Arendt came from the palace, where he had been to -inform the Emperor. His Majesty was at the theatre, and Arendt left -instructions that on his return the Emperor should be told what had -occurred. About midnight a mounted messenger arrived for Arendt. The -Emperor desired him to go at once to Pushkin, and read to him an -autograph letter which the messenger brought. He was then to hasten to -the palace and report upon Pushkin's condition. - -"I shall not go to bed; I shall wait up for you," wrote the Emperor -Nicholas. "And bring back my letter." - -The note was as follows: - -"If it will be the will of God that we shall not meet again, I send -you my pardon, and advise you to receive the last Christian rites. As -to your wife and children, they need cause you no anxiety. I take them -under my own protection." - -The dying man immediately complied with the Emperor's wish. A priest -was sent for from the nearest church. Pushkin confessed and received -the sacrament with great reverence. When Arendt read the Emperor's -letter to him, Pushkin took hold of it and kissed it again and again. - -"Give me the letter; I wish to die with it. The letter; where is the -letter?" he called out to Arendt, who was unable to leave it with him, -but tried to pacify him by promising to ask the Emperor's permission to -bring it back again. - -At five in the morning the patient's anguish grew overpowering. The -sufferer began to groan, and Arendt was again sent for. But all efforts -to soothe the pain were futile. Had his wife heard his cries I am -sure she must have gone mad; she could never have borne the agony. -At the first great cry of pain the Princess Viasemsky, who was in -the room, rushed towards her, fearing the effect. But Madame Pushkin -lay motionless on a sofa close to the door which separated her from -her husband's death-bed. According to both Spaski and Arendt the -dying man stifled his cries at the moment of supreme anguish, and -only groaned in fear lest his wife might hear him and suffer. To the -last Pushkin's mind remained clear and his memory fresh. Before the -next great paroxysm he asked for a paper in his own writing and had -it burnt. Then he dictated to Dansasse a list of some debts, but this -exertion prostrated him. When, between the paroxysms, some bread sop -was brought, he said to Spaski: - -"My wife! call my wife. Let her give it me." - -She entered, dropped on her knees by his side, and after lifting a -couple of spoonfuls to his mouth, leant her cheek against his. He -caressed and patted her head. - -"Come, come," he said, "I am all right. Thank God, all is going on -well. Go now." - -His calm expression of face and steady voice deceived the poor wife. -She came out of his room bright with hope. He asked for his children. -They were brought in half asleep: He blessed each one, making the sign -of the cross, and placing his hand on their head; then he motioned to -have them taken away. Afterwards he asked for his friends who were -present. I then approached and took his hand, which was already cold, -and inquired if I should give any message to the Emperor. - -"Say that I am sorry I am leaving him. I should have been devoted to -him." - -On the 29th of January, at three in the afternoon, after two days of -excruciating pain, Pushkin died. His death was regarded throughout -Russia as a public calamity. In St. Petersburg disturbances were -feared. It was thought that the people might lynch Heckeeren and his -son. A secret funeral was arranged. The body was carried into the -church late at night in the presence of some friends and relations; -and in the neighbouring courtyards piquets were stationed. After the -service the corpse was despatched to the province of Pskoff, and -was buried in the monastery of the Assumption at Sviatogorsk, near -Pushkin's property at Michailovskoe. The Emperor gave about 150,000 -roubles to pay his debts and to bring out a complete edition of his -works, besides granting a liberal pension to the widow. - -On the 6th of June, 1880, was solemnly unveiled at Moscow a statue of -Pushkin, erected by voluntary subscriptions from all parts of Russia. - -Pushkin was slim and of middle height; in childhood his hair was fair -and curly, but afterwards it turned dark brown. His eyes were light -blue, his smile satirical, but good-natured and pleasant; his clever, -expressive face bore evidence of his African descent, as did his quick -and passionate nature. He was irritable, but kind and full of feeling; -his conversation sparkled with wit and good humour, and his memory was -prodigious. Pushkin, it has already been said, was of ancient lineage, -but no Russian is sufficiently well-born to marry into the Imperial -family, and when quite recently the Grand Duke Michael, grandson of -the Emperor Nicholas, married without permission the granddaughter -of Pushkin, he caused the liveliest dissatisfaction in the highest -quarters. The bride may console herself by the reflection that her -grandfather was, in the words of Gogol, "a rare phenomenon; a writer -who gave to his country poems so admirable that they attracted the -attention of the whole civilised world; a poet who won respect and -love for the language, for the living Russian types, the customs, and -national character of Russia. Such a writer is indeed a rarity." - - - - -THE QUEEN OF SPADES. - - -CHAPTER I. - - -There was a card party at the rooms of Narumoff, a lieutenant in the -Horse Guards. A long winter night had passed unnoticed, and it was five -o'clock in the morning when supper was served. The winners sat down to -table with an excellent appetite; the losers let their plates remain -empty before them. Little by little, however, with the assistance of -the champagne, the conversation became animated, and was shared by all. - -"How did you get on this evening, Surin?" said the host to one of his -friends. - -"Oh, I lost, as usual. I really have no luck. I play _mirandole_. You -know that I keep cool. Nothing moves me; I never change my play, and -yet I always lose." - -"Do you mean to say that all the evening you did not once back the red? -Your firmness of character surprises me." - -"What do you think of Hermann?" said one of the party, pointing to a -young Engineer officer. - -"That fellow never made a bet or touched a card in his life, and yet he -watches us playing until five in the morning." - -"It interests me," said Hermann; "but I am not disposed to risk the -necessary in view of the superfluous." - -"Hermann is a German, and economical; that is the whole of the secret," -cried Tomski. "But what is really astonishing is the Countess Anna -Fedotovna!" - -"How so?" asked several voices. - -"Have you not remarked," said Tomski, "that she never plays?" - -"Yes," said Narumoff, "a woman of eighty, who never touches a card; -that is indeed something extraordinary!" - -"You do not know why?" - -"No; is there a reason for it?" - -"Just listen. My grandmother, you know, some sixty years ago, went to -Paris, and became the rage there. People ran after her in the streets, -and called her the 'Muscovite Venus.' Richelieu made love to her, and -my grandmother makes out that, by her rigorous demeanour, she almost -drove him to suicide. In those days women used to play at faro. One -evening at the court she lost, on _parole,_ to the Duke of Orleans, -a very considerable sum. When she got home, my grandmother removed -her beauty spots, took off her hoops, and in this tragic costume went -to my grandfather, told him of her misfortune, and asked him for the -money she had to pay. My grandfather, now no more, was, so to say, his -wife's steward. He feared her like fire; but the sum she named made him -leap into the air. He flew into a rage, made a brief calculation, and -proved to my grandmother that in six months she had got through half a -million rubles. He told her plainly that he had no villages to sell in -Paris, his domains being situated in the neighbourhood of Moscow and -of Saratoff; and finally refused point blank. You may imagine the fury -of my grandmother. She boxed his ears, and passed the night in another -room. - -[Illustration: "THE OLD MAGICIAN CAME AT ONCE."] - -"The next day she returned to the charge. For the first time in her -life, she condescended to arguments and explanations. In vain did she -try to prove to her husband that there were debts and debts, and that -she could not treat a prince of the blood like her coachmaker. - -"All this eloquence was lost. My grandfather was inflexible. My -grandmother did not know where to turn. Happily she was acquainted with -a man who was very celebrated at this time. You have heard of the Count -of St. Germain, about whom so many marvellous stories were told. You -know that he passed for a sort of Wandering Jew, and that he was said -to possess an elixir of life and the philosopher's stone. - -"Some people laughed at him as a charlatan. Casanova, in his memoirs, -says that he was a spy. However that may be, in spite of the mystery of -his life, St. Germain was much sought after in good society, and was -really an agreeable man. Even to this day my grandmother has preserved -a genuine affection for him, and she becomes quite angry when anyone -speaks of him with disrespect. - -"It occurred to her that he might be able to advance the sum of which -she was in need, and she wrote a note begging him to call. The old -magician came at once, and found her plunged in the deepest despair. -In two or three words she told him everything; related to him her -misfortune and the cruelty of her husband, adding that she had no hope -except in his friendship and his obliging disposition. - -"'Madam,' said St. Germain, after a few moments' reflection, 'I could -easily advance you the money you want, but I am sure that you would -have no rest until you had repaid me, and I do not want to get you out -of one trouble in order to place you in another. There is another way -of settling the matter. You must regain the money you have lost.' - -"'But, my dear friend,' answered my grandmother, 'I have already told -you that I have nothing left.' - -"'That does not matter,' answered St. Germain. 'Listen to me, and I -will explain.' - -"He then communicated to her a secret which any of you would, I am -sure, give a good deal to possess." - -All the young officers gave their full attention. Tomski stopped to -light his Turkish pipe, swallowed a mouthful of smoke, and then went on. - -"That very evening my grandmother went to Versailles to play at the -Queen's table. The Duke of Orleans held the bank. My grandmother -invented a little story by way of excuse for not having paid her debt, -and then sat down at the table, and began to stake. She took three -cards. She won with the first; doubled her stake on the second, and won -again; doubled on the third, and still won." - -"Mere luck!" said one of the young officers. - -"What a tale!" cried Hermann. - -"Were the cards marked?" said a third. - -"I don't think so," replied Tom ski, gravely. - -"And you mean to say," exclaimed Narumoff, "that you have a grandmother -who knows the names of three winning cards, and you have never made her -tell them to you?" - -"That is the very deuce of it," answered Tomski. "She had three sons, -of whom my father was one; all three were determined gamblers, and not -one of them was able to extract her secret from her, though it would -have been of immense advantage to them, and to me also. Listen to what -my uncle told me about it, Count Ivan Ilitch, and he told me on his -word of honour. - -"Tchaplitzki--the one you remember who died in poverty after devouring -millions--lost one day, when he was a young man, to Zoritch about three -hundred thousand roubles. He was in despair. My grandmother, who had no -mercy for the extravagance of young men, made an exception--I do not -know why--in favour of Tchaplitzki. She gave him three cards, telling -him to play them one after the other, and exacting from him at the same -time his word of honour that he would never afterwards touch a card as -long as he lived. Accordingly Tchaplitzki went to Zoritch and asked for -his revenge. On the first card he staked fifty thousands rubles. He -won, doubled the stake, and won again. Continuing his system he ended -by gaining more than he had lost. - -"But it is six o'clock! It is really time to go to bed." - -Everyone emptied his glass and the party broke up. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -The old Countess Anna Fedotovna was in her dressing-room, seated before -her looking-glass. Three maids were in attendance. One held her pot of -rouge, another a box of black pins, a third an enormous lace cap, with -flaming ribbons. The Countess had no longer the slightest pretence to -beauty, but she preserved all the habits of her youth. She dressed in -the style of fifty years before, and gave as much time and attention to -her toilet as a fashionable beauty of the last century. Her companion -was working at a frame in a corner of the window. - -[Illustrated: "SEATED BEFORE HER LOOKING-GLASS."] - -"Good morning, grandmother," said the young officer, as he entered the -dressing-room. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Lise. Grandmother, I have -come to ask you a favour." - -"What is it, Paul?" - -"I want to introduce to you one of my friends, and to ask you to give -him an invitation to your ball." - -"Bring him to the ball and introduce him to me there. Did you go -yesterday to the Princess's?" - -"Certainly. It was delightful! We danced until five o'clock in the -morning. Mademoiselle Eletzki was charming." - -"My dear nephew, you are really not difficult to please. As to beauty, -you should have seen her grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna. But -she must be very old the Princess Daria Petrovna!" - -"How do you mean old?" cried Tomski thoughtlessly; "she died seven -years ago." - -The young lady who acted as companion raised her head and made a sign -to the officer, who then remembered that it was an understood thing to -conceal from the Princess the death of any of her contemporaries. He -bit his lips. The Countess, however, was not in any way disturbed on -hearing that her old friend was no longer in this world. - -"Dead!" she said, "and I never knew it! We were maids of honour in -the same year, and when we were presented, the Empress'"--and the -old Countess related for the hundredth time an anecdote of her young -days. "Paul," she said, as she finished her story, "help me to get up. -Lisaveta, where is my snuff-box?" - -And, followed by the three maids, she went behind a great screen to -finish her toilet. Tomski was now alone with the companion. - -"Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to madame?" asked Lisaveta. - -"Narumoff. Do you know him?" - -"No. Is he in the army?" - -"Yes." - -"In the Engineers?" - -"No, in the Horse Guards. Why did you think he was in the Engineers?" - -The young lady smiled, but made no answer. - -"Paul," cried the Countess from behind the screen, "send me a new -novel; no matter what. Only see that it is not in the style of the -present day." - -"What style would you like, grandmother?" - -"A novel in which the hero strangles neither his father nor his mother, -and in which no one gets drowned. Nothing frightens me so much as the -idea of getting drowned." - -[Illustration: PAUL AND LISAVETA.] - -"But how is it possible to find you such a book? Do you want it in -Russian?" - -"Are there any novels in Russian? However, send me something or other. -You won't forget?" - -"I will not forget, grandmother. I am in a great hurry. Good-bye, -Lisaveta. What made you fancy Narumoff was in the Engineers?" and -Tomski took his departure. - -Lisaveta, left alone, took out her embroidery, and sat down close to -the window. Immediately afterwards, in the street, at the corner of a -neighbouring house, appeared a young officer. The sight of him made the -companion blush to her ears. She lowered her head, and almost concealed -it in the canvas. At this moment the Counters returned, fully dressed. - -"Lisaveta," she said "have the horses put in; we will go out for a -drive." - -Lisaveta rose from her chair, and began to arrange her embroidery. - -"Well, my dear child, are you deaf? Go and tell them to put the horses -in at once." - -"I am going," replied the young lady, as she went out into the -ante-chamber. - -A servant now came in, bringing some books from Prince Paul -Alexandrovitch. - -"Say I am much obliged to him. Lisaveta! Lisaveta! Where has she run -off to?" - -"I was going to dress." - -"We have plenty of time, my dear. Sit down, take the first volume, and -read to me." - -The companion took the book and read a few lines. - -"Louder," said the Countess. "What is the matter with you? Have you a -cold? Wait a moment; bring me that stool. A little closer; that will -do." - -Lisaveta read two pages of the book. - -"Throw that stupid book away," said the Countess. "What nonsense! Send -it back to Prince Paul, and tell him I am much obliged to him; and the -carriage, is it never coming? - -"Here it is," replied Lisaveta, going to the window. - -"And now you are not dressed. Why do you always keep 'me waiting? It is -intolerable." - -Lisaveta ran to her room. She had scarcely been there two minutes when -the Countess rang with all her might. Her maids rushed in at one door -and her valet at the other. - -"You do not seem to hear me when I ring," she cried. "Go and tell -Lisaveta that I am waiting for her." - -At this moment Lisaveta entered, wearing a new walking dress and a -fashionable bonnet. - -"At last, miss," cried the Countess. "But what is that you have got on? -and why? For whom are you dressing? What sort of weather is it? Quite -stormy, I believe." - -"No, your Excellency," said the valet; "it is exceedingly fine." - -"What do you know about it? Open the ventilator. Just what I told you! -A frightful wind, and as icy as can be. Unharness the horses. Lisaveta, -my child, we will not go out to-day. It was scarcely worth while to -dress so much." - -"What an existence!" said the companion to herself. - -Lisaveta Ivanovna was, in fact, a most unhappy creature. "The bread of -the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his staircase hard to climb." -But who can tell the torments of a poor little companion attached to -an old lady of quality? The Countess had all the caprices of a woman -spoilt by the world. She was avaricious and egotistical, and thought -all the more of herself now that she had ceased to play an active part -in society. She never missed a ball, and she dressed and painted in the -style of a bygone age. She remained in a corner of the room, where she -seemed to have been placed expressly to serve as a scarecrow. Every -one on coming in went to her and made her a low bow, but this ceremony -once at an end no one spoke a word to her. She received the whole city -at her house, observing the strictest etiquette, and never failing to -give to everyone his or her proper name. Her innumerable servants, -growing pale and fat in the ante-chamber, did absolutely as they liked, -so that that the house was pillaged as if its owner were really dead. -Lisaveta passed her life in continual torture. If she made tea she was -reproached with wasting the sugar. If she read a novel to the Countess -she was held responsible for all the absurdities of the author. If she -went out with the noble lady for a walk or drive, it was she who was to -blame if the weather was bad or the pavement muddy. Her salary, more -than modest, was never punctually paid, and she was expected to dress -"like every one else," that is to say, like very few people indeed. -When she went into society her position was sad. Everyone knew her; no -one paid her any attention. At a ball she sometimes danced, but only -when a _vis-à-vis_ was wanted. Women would come up to her, take her by -the arm, and lead her out of the room if their dress required attending -to. She had her portion of self-respect, and felt deeply the misery -of her position. She looked with impatience for a liberator to break -her chain. But the young men, prudent in the midst of their affected -giddiness, took care not to honour her with their attentions, though -Lisaveta Ivanovna was a hundred times prettier than the shameless or -stupid girls whom they surrounded with their homage. More than once -she slunk away from the splendour of the drawing-room to shut herself -up alone in her little bed-room, furnished with an old screen and a -pieced carpet, a chest of drawers, a small looking-glass, and a wooden -bedstead. There she shed tears at her ease by the light of a tallow -candle in a tin candlestick. - -One morning--it was two days after the party at Narumoff's, and a -week before the scene we have just sketched--Lisaveta was sitting at -her embroidery before the window, when, looking carelessly into the -street, she saw an officer, in the uniform of the Engineers, standing -motionless with his eyes fixed upon her. She lowered her head, and -applied herself to her work more attentively than ever. Five minutes -afterwards she locked mechanically into the street, and the officer was -still in the same place. Not being in the habit of exchanging glances -with young men who passed by her window, she remained with her eyes -fixed on her work for nearly two hours, until she was told that lunch -was ready. She got up to put her embroidery away, and while doing so, -looked into the street, and saw the officer still in the same place. -This seemed to her very strange. After lunch she went to the window -with a certain emotion, but the officer of Engineers was no longer in -the street. - -[Illustration: "THERE SHE SHED TEARS."] - -She thought no more of him. But two days afterwards, just as she was -getting into the carriage with the Countess, she saw him once more, -standing straight before the door. His face was half concealed by a fur -collar, but his black eyes sparkled beneath his helmet. Lisaveta was -afraid, without knowing why, and she trembled as she took her seat in -the carriage. - -On returning home, she rushed with a beating heart towards the -window. The officer was in his habitual place, with his eyes fixed -ardently upon her. She at once withdrew, burning at the same time with -curiosity, and moved by a strange feeling which she now experienced for -the first time. - -No day now passed but the young officer showed himself beneath the -window. Before long a dumb acquaintance was established between them. -Sitting at her work she felt his presence, and when she raised her head -she looked at him for a long time every day. The young man seemed full -of gratitude for these innocent favours. - -She observed, with the deep and rapid perceptions of youth, that a -sudden redness covered the officer's pale cheeks as soon as their eyes -met. After about a week she would smile at seeing him for the first -time. - -When Tomski asked his grandmother's permission to present one of his -friends, the heart of the poor young girl beat strongly, and when she -heard that it was Narumoff, she bitterly repented having compromised -her secret by letting it out to a giddy young man like Paul. - -Hermann was the son of a German settled in Russia, from whom he had -inherited a small sum of money. Firmly resolved to preserve his -independence, he had made it a principle not to touch his private -income. He lived on his pay, and did not allow himself the slightest -luxury. He was not very communicative; and his reserve rendered it -difficult for his comrades to amuse themselves at his expense. - -Under an assumed calm he concealed strong passions and a -highly-imaginative disposition. But he was always master of himself, -and kept himself free from the ordinary faults of young men. Thus, a -gambler by temperament, he never touched a card, feeling, as he himself -said, that his position did not allow him to "risk the necessary in -view of the superfluous." Yet he would pass entire nights before a -card-table, watching with feverish anxiety the rapid changes of the -game. The anecdote of Count St. Germaines three cards had struck his -imagination, and he did nothing but think of it all that night. - -"If," he said to himself next day as he was walking along the streets -of St. Petersburg, "if she would only tell me her secret--if she would -only name the three winning cards! I must get presented to her, that I -may pay my court and gain her confidence. Yes! And she is eighty-seven! -She may die this week--to-morrow perhaps. But after all, is there a -word of truth in the story? No! Economy, Temperance, Work; these are -my three winning cards. With them I can double my capital; increase it -tenfold. They alone can ensure my independence and prosperity." - -Dreaming in this way as he walked along, his attention was attracted by -a house built in an antiquated style of architecture. The street was -full of carriages, which passed one by one before the old house, now -brilliantly illuminated. As the people stepped out of the carriages -Hermann saw now the little feet of a young woman, now the military boot -of a general. Then came a clocked stocking; then, again, a diplomatic -pump. Fur-lined cloaks and coats passed in procession before a gigantic -porter. - -Hermann stopped. "Who lives here?" he said to a watchman in his box. - -"The Countess Anna Fedotovna." It was Tomski's grandmother. - -Hermann started. The story of the three cards came once more upon his -imagination. He walked to and fro before the house, thinking of the -woman to whom it belonged, of her wealth and her mysterious power. At -last he returned to his den. But for some time he could not get to -sleep; and when at last sleep came upon him, he saw, dancing before -his eyes, cards, a green table, and heaps of rubles and bank-notes. -He saw himself doubling stake after stake, always winning, and then -filling his pockets with piles of coin, and stuffing his pocket-book -with countless bank-notes. When he awoke, he sighed to find that his -treasures were but creations of a disordered fancy; and, to drive such -thoughts from him, he went out for a walk. But he had not gone far when -he found himself once more before the house of the Countess. He seemed -to have been attracted there by some irresistible force. He stopped, -and looked up at the windows. There he saw a girl's head with beautiful -black hair, leaning gracefully over a book or an embroidery-frame. The -head was lifted, and he saw a fresh complexion and black eyes. - -This moment decided his fate. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Lisaveta was just taking off her shawl and her bonnet, when the -Countess sent for her. She had had the horses put in again. - -While two footmen were helping the old lady into the carriage, Lisaveta -saw the young officer at her side. She felt him take her by the hand, -lost her head, and found, when the young officer had walked away, that -he had left a paper between her fingers. She hastily concealed it in -her glove. - -During the whole of the drive she neither saw nor heard. When they were -in the carriage together the Countess was in the habit of questioning -Lisaveta perpetually. - -"Who is that man that bowed to us? What is the name of this bridge? -What is there written on that signboard?" - -Lisaveta now gave the most absurd answers, and was accordingly scolded -by the Countess. - -"What is the matter with you, my child?" she asked. "What are you -thinking about? Or do you really not hear me? I speak distinctly -enough, however, and I have not yet lost my head, have I?" - -Lisaveta was not listening. When she got back to the house, she ran to -her room, locked the door, and took the scrap of paper from her glove. -It was not sealed, and it was impossible, therefore, not to read it. -The letter contained protestations of love. It was tender, respectful, -and translated word for word from a German novel. But Lisaveta did -not read German, and she was quite delighted. She was, however, -much embarrassed. For the first time in her life she had a secret. -Correspond with a young man! The idea of such a thing frightened her. -How imprudent she had been! She had reproached herself, but knew not -now what to do. - -Cease to do her work at the window, and by persistent coldness try and -disgust the _young_ officer? Send him back his letter? Answer him in -a firm, decided manner? What line of conduct was she to pursue? She -had no friend, no one to advise her. She at last decided to send an -answer. She sat down at her little table, took pen and paper, and began -to think. More than once she wrote a sentence and then tore up the -paper. What she had written seemed too stiff, or else it was wanting in -reserve. At last, after much trouble, she succeeded in composing a few -lines which seemed to meet the case. - -"I believe," she wrote, "that your intentions are those of an -honourable man, and that you would not wish to offend me by any -thoughtless conduct. But you must understand that our acquaintance -cannot begin in this way. I return your letter, and trust that you will -not give me cause to regret my imprudence." - -Next day, as soon as Hermann made his appearance, Lisaveta left her -embroidery, and went into the drawing-room, opened the ventilator, and -threw her letter into the street, making sure that the young officer -would pick it up. - -[Illustration: SHE TORE IT INTO A HUNDRED PIECES.] - -Hermann, in fact, at once saw it, and picking it up, entered a -confectioner's shop in order to read it. Finding nothing discouraging -in it, he went home sufficiently pleased with the first step in his -love adventure. - -Some days afterwards, a young person with lively eyes called to see -Miss Lisaveta, on the part of a milliner. Lisaveta wondered what she -could want, and suspected, as she received her, some secret intention. -She was much surprised, however, when she recognised, on the letter -that was now handed to her, the writing of Hermann. - -"You make a mistake," she said; "this letter is not for me." - -"I beg your pardon," said the milliner, with a slight smile; "be kind -enough to read it." - -Lisaveta glanced at it. Hermann was asking for an appointment. - -"Impossible!" she cried, alarmed both at the boldness of the request, -and at the manner in which it was made. "This letter is not for me," -she repeated; and she tore it into a hundred pieces. - -"If the letter was not for you, why did you tear it up? You should have -given it me back, that I might take it to the person it was meant for." - -"True," said Lisaveta, quite disconcerted. - -"But bring me no more letters, and tell the person who gave you this -one that he ought to blush for his conduct." - -Hermann, however, was not a man to give up what he had once undertaken. -Every day Lisaveta received a fresh letter from him, sent now in one -way, now in another. They were no longer translated from the German. -Hermann wrote under the influence of a commanding passion, and spoke a -language which was his own. Lisaveta could not hold out against such -torrents of eloquence. She received the letters, kept them, and at last -answered them. Every day her answers were longer and more affectionate, -until at last she threw out of the window a letter couched as follows:-- - -"This evening there is a ball at the Embassy. The Countess will be -there. We shall remain until two in the morning. You may manage to -see me alone. As soon as the Countess leaves home, that is to say -towards eleven o'clock, the servants are sure to go out, and there -will be no one left but the porter, who will be sure to be asleep in -his box. Enter as soon as it strikes eleven, and go upstairs as fast -as possible. If you find anyone in the ante-chamber, ask whether the -Countess is at home, and you will be told that she is out, and, in -that case, you must resign yourself, and go away. In all probability, -however, you will meet no one. The Countess's women are together in a -distant room. When you are once in the ante-chamber, turn to the left, -and walk straight on, until you reach the Countess's bedroom. There, -behind a large screen, you will see two doors. The one on the right -leads to a dark room. The one on the left leads to a corridor, at the -end of which is a little winding staircase, which leads to my parlour." - -At, ten o'clock Hermann was already on duty before the Countess's door. -It was a frightful night. The winds had been unloosed, and the snow was -falling in large flakes; the lamps gave an uncertain light; the streets -were deserted; from time to time passed a sledge, drawn by a wretched -hack, on the look-out for a fare. Covered by a thick overcoat, Hermann -felt neither the wind nor the snow. At last the Countesses carriage -drew up. He saw two huge footmen come forward and take beneath the arms -a dilapidated spectre, and place it on the cushions well wrapped up in -an enormous fur cloak. Immediately afterwards, in a cloak of lighter -make, her head crowned with natural flowers, came Lisaveta, who sprang -into the carriage like a dart. The door was closed, and the carriage -rolled on softly over the snow. - -The porter closed the street door, and soon the windows of the first -floor became dark. Silence reigned throughout the house. Hermann walked -backwards and forwards; then coming to a lamp he looked at his watch. -It was twenty minutes to eleven. Leaning against the lamp-post, his -eyes fixed on the long hand of his watch, he counted impatiently the -minutes which had yet to pass. At eleven o'clock precisely Hermann -walked up the steps, pushed open the street door, and went into the -vestibule, which was well lighted. As it happened the porter was not -there. With a firm and rapid step he rushed up the staircase and -reached the ante-chamber. There, before a lamp, a footman was sleeping, -stretched out in a dirty greasy dressing-gown. Hermann passed quickly -before him and crossed the dining-room and the drawing-room, where -there was no light. But the lamp of the ante-chamber helped him to see. -At last he reached the Countess's bedroom. Before a screen covered with -old icons (sacred pictures) a golden lamp was burning. Gilt arm-chairs, -sofas of faded colours, furnished with soft cushions, were arranged -symmetrically along the walls, which were hung with China silk. He -saw two large portraits painted by Madame le Brun. One represented a -man of forty, stout and full coloured, dressed in a light green coat, -with a decoration on his breast. The second portrait was that of an -elegant young woman, with an aquiline nose, powdered hair rolled back -on the temples, and with a rose over her ear. Everywhere might be seen -shepherds and shepherdesses in Dresden china, with vases of all shapes, -clocks by Leroy, work-baskets, fans, and all the thousand playthings -for the use of ladies of fashion, discovered in the last century, at -the time of Montgolfier's balloons and Mesmer's animal magnetism. - -[Illustration: "A FOOTMAN IN A GREASY DRESSING GOWN."] - -Hermann passed behind the screen, which concealed a little iron -bedstead. He saw the two doors; the one on the right leading to the -dark room, the one on the left to the corridor. He opened the latter, -saw the staircase which led to the poor little companion's parlour, and -then, closing this door, went into the dark room. - -The time passed slowly. Everything was quiet in the house. The -drawing-room clock struck midnight, and again there was silence. -Hermann was standing up, leaning against the stove, in which there was -no fire. He was calm; but his heart beat with quick pulsations, like -that of a man determined to brave all dangers he might have to meet, -because he knows them to be inevitable. He heard one o'clock strike; -then two; and soon afterwards the distant roll of a carriage. He now, -in spite of himself, experienced some emotion. The carriage approached -rapidly and stopped. There was at once a great noise of servants -running about the staircases, and a confusion of voices. Suddenly the -rooms were all lit up, and the Countess's three antiquated maids came -at once into the bed-room. At last appeared the Countess herself. - -The walking mummy sank into a large Voltaire arm-chair. Hermann looked -through the crack in the door; he saw Lisaveta pass close to him, and -heard her hurried step as she went up the little winding staircase. -For a moment he felt something like remorse; but it soon passed off, -and his heart was once more of stone. - -[Illustration: "A STRANGE MAN HAD APPEARED."] - -The Countess began to undress before a looking-glass. Her head-dress of -roses was taken off, and her powdered wig separated from her own hair, -which was very short and quite white. Pins fell in showers around -her. At last she was in her dressing-gown and night cap, and in this -costume, more suitable to her age, was less hideous than before. - -Like most old people, the Countess was tormented by sleeplessness. She -had her armchair rolled towards one of the windows, and told her maids -to leave her. The lights were put out, and the room was lighted only by -the lamp which burned before the holy images. The Countess, sallow and -wrinkled, balanced herself gently from right to left. In her dull eyes -could be read an utter absence of thought; and as she moved from side -to side, one might have said that she did so not by any action of the -will, but through some secret mechanism. - -Suddenly this death's-head assumed a new expression; the lips ceased to -tremble, and the eyes became alive. A strange man had appeared before -the Countess! - -It was Hermann. - -"Do not be alarmed, madam," said Hermann, in a low voice, but very -distinctly. "For the love of Heaven, do not be alarmed. I do not wish -to do you the slightest harm; on the contrary, I come to implore a -favour of you." - -The old woman looked at him in silence, as if she did not understand. -Thinking she was deaf, he leaned towards her ear and repeated what he -had said; but the Countess still remained silent. - -"You can ensure the happiness of my whole life, and without its costing -you a farthing. I know that you can name to me three cards----" - -The Countess now understood what he required. - -"It was a joke," she interrupted. "I swear to you it was only a joke." - -"No, madam," replied Hermann in an angry tone. "Remember Tchaplitzki, -and how you enabled him to win." - -The Countess was agitated. For a moment her features expressed strong -emotion; but they soon resumed their former dulness. - -"Cannot you name to me," said Hermann, "three winning cards?" - -The Countess remained silent. "Why keep this secret for your -great-grandchildren," he continued. "They are rich enough without; -they do not know the value of money. Of what profit would your three -cards be to them? They are debauchees. The man who cannot keep his -inheritance will die in want, though he had the science of demons at -his command. I am a steady man. I know the value of money. Your three -cards will not be lost upon me. Come!" - -He stopped tremblingly, awaiting a reply. The Countess did not utter a -word. Hermann went upon his knees. - -"If your heart has ever known the passion of love; if you can remember -its sweet ecstasies; if you Pave ever been touched by the cry of a -newborn babe; if any human feeling has ever caused your heart to beat, -I entreat you by the love of a husband, a lover, a mother, by all -that is sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Tell me your secret! -Reflect! You are old; you Pave not long to live! Remember that the -happiness of a man is in your hands; that not only myself, but my -children and my grandchildren will bless your memory as a saint." - -The old Countess answered not a word. - -Hermann rose, and drew a pistol from his pocket. - -"Hag!" he exclaimed, "I will make you speak." - -At the sight of the pistol the Countess for the second time showed -agitation. Her head shook violently she stretched out her hands as if -to put the weapon aside. Then suddenly she fell back motionless. - -"Come, don't be childish!" said Hermann. "I adjure you for the last -time; will you name the three cards?" - -The Countess did not answer. Hermann saw that she was dead! - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -Lisaveta was sitting in her room, still in her ball dress, lost in -the deepest meditation. On her return to the house, she had sent away -her maid, and had gone upstairs to her room, trembling at the idea of -finding Hermann there; desiring, indeed, _not_ to find him. One glance -showed her that he was not there, and she gave thanks to Providence -that he had missed the appointment. She sat down pensively, without -thinking of taking off her cloak, and allowed to pass through her -memory all the circumstances of the intrigue which had begun such a -short time back, and had already advanced so far. Scarcely three weeks -had passed since she had first seen the young officer from her window, -and already she had written to him, and he had succeeded in inducing -her to make an appointment. She knew his name, and that was all. She -had received a quantity of letters from him, but he had never spoken to -her; she did not know the sound of his voice, and until that evening, -strangely enough, she had never heard him spoken of. - -[Illustration: "ONE GLANCE SHOWED HER THAT HE WAS NOT THERE."] - -But that very evening Tomski, fancying he had noticed that the young -Princess Pauline, to whom he had been paying assiduous court, was -flirting, contrary to her custom, with, another man, had wished to -revenge himself by making a show of indifference. With this noble -object he had invited Lisaveta to take part in an interminable mazurka; -but he teased her immensely about her partiality for Engineer officers, -and pretending all the time to know much more than he really did, -hazarded purely in fun a few guesses which were so happy that Lisaveta -thought her secret must have been discovered. - -"But who tells you all this?" she said with a smile. "A friend of the -very officer you know, a most original man." - -"And who is this man that is so original?" - -"His name is Hermann." - -She answered nothing, but her hands and feet seemed to be of ice. - -"Hermann is a hero of romance," continued Tomski. "He has the profile -of Napoleon, and the soul of Mephistopheles. I believe he has at least -three crimes on his conscience.... But how pale you are!" - -"I have a bad headache. But what did this Mr. Hermann tell you? Is not -that his name?" - -"Hermann is very much displeased with his friend, with the Engineer -officer who has made your acquaintance. He says that in his place he -would behave very differently. But I am quite sure that Hermann himself -has designs upon you. At least, he seems to listen with remarkable -interest to all that his friend tells him about you." - -"And where has he seen me?" - -"Perhaps in church, perhaps in the street; heaven knows where." - -At this moment three ladies came forward according to the custom of -the mazurka, and asked Tomski to choose between "forgetfulness and -regret."[1] - -[1] The figures and fashions of the mazurka are reproduced in -the cotillon of Western Europe.--TRANSLATOR.] - -And the conversation which had so painfully excited the curiosity of -Lisaveta came to an end. - -The lady who, in virtue of the infidelities permitted by the mazurka, -had just been chosen by Tom ski, was the Princess Pauline. During the -rapid evolutions which the figure obliged them to make, there was a -grand explanation between them, until at last he conducted her to a -chair, and returned to his partner. - -But Tomski could now think no more, either of Hermann or Lisaveta, and -he tried in vain to resume the conversation. But the mazurka was coming -to an end, and immediately afterwards the old Countess rose to go. - -Tomski's mysterious phrases were nothing more than the usual platitudes -of the mazurka, but they had made a deep impression upon the heart of -the poor little companion. The portrait sketched by Tomski had struck -her as very exact; and with her romantic ideas, she saw in the rather -ordinary countenance of her adorer something to fear and admire. She -was now sitting down with her cloak off, with bare shoulders; her head, -crowned with flowers, falling forward from fatigue, when suddenly the -door opened and Hermann entered. She shuddered. - -"Where were you?" she said, trembling all over. - -"In the Countess's bedroom. I have just left her," replied Hermann. -"She is dead." - -"Great Heavens! What are you saying?" - -"I am afraid," he said, "that I am the cause of her death." - -Lisaveta looked at him in consternation, and remembered Tomski's words: -"He has at least three crimes on his conscience." - -Hermann sat down by the window, and told everything. The young girl -listened with terror. - -So those letters so full of passion, those burning expressions, this -daring obstinate pursuit--all this had been inspired by anything but -love! Money alone had inflamed the man's soul. She, who had nothing -but a heart to offer, how could she make him happy? Poor child! she -had been the blind instrument of a robber, of the murderer of her old -benefactress. She wept bitterly in the agony of her repentance. Hermann -watched her in silence; but neither the tears of the unhappy girl, nor -her beauty, rendered more touching by her grief, could move his heart -of iron. He had no remorse in thinking of the Countess's death. One -sole thought distressed him--the irreparable loss of the secret which -was to have made his fortune. - -"You are a monster!" said Lisaveta, after a long silence. - -"I did not mean to kill her," replied Hermann coldly. "My pistol was -not loaded." - -They remained for some time without speaking, without looking at one -another. The day was breaking, and Lisaveta put out her candle. She -wiped her eyes, drowned in tears, and raised them towards Hermann. He -was standing close to the window, his arms crossed, with a frown on -his forehead. In this attitude he reminded her involuntarily of the -portrait of Napoleon. The resemblance overwhelmed her. - -"How am I to get you away?" she said at last. "I thought you might go -out by the back stairs. But it would be necessary to go through the -Countess's bedroom, and I am too frightened." - -"Tell me how to get to the staircase, and I will go alone." - -She went to a drawer, took out a key, which she handed to Hermann, and -gave him the necessary instructions. Hermann took her icy hand, kissed -her on the forehead, and departed. - -He went down the staircase, and entered the Countess's bedroom. She was -seated quite stiff in her armchair; but her features were in no way -contracted. He stopped for a moment, and gazed into her face as if to -make sure of the terrible reality. Then he entered the dark room, and, -feeling behind the tapestry, found the little door which, opened on -to a staircase. As he went down it, strange ideas came into his head. -"Going down this staircase," he said to himself, "some sixty years ago, -at about this time, may have been seen some man in an embroidered coat -with powdered wig, pressing to his breast a cocked hat: some gallant -who has long been buried; and now the heart of his aged mistress has -ceased to beat." - -At the end of the staircase he found another door, which his key -opened, and he found himself in the corridor which led to the street. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Three days after this fatal night, at nine o'clock in the morning, -Hermann entered the convent where the last respects were to be paid -to the mortal remains of the old Countess. He felt no remorse, though -he could not deny to himself that he was the poor woman's assassin. -Having no religion, he was, as usual in such cases, very superstitious; -believing that the dead Countess might exercise a malignant influence -on his life, he thought to appease her spirit by attending her funeral. - -The church was full of people, and it was difficult to get in. The -body had been placed on a rich catafalque, beneath a canopy of velvet. -The Countess was reposing in an open coffin, her hands joined on her -breast, with a dress of white satin, and head-dress of lace. Around -the catafalque the family was assembled, the servants in black caftans -with a knot of ribbons on the shoulder, exhibiting the colours of -the Countesses coat of arms. Each of them held a wax candle in his -hand. The relations, in deep mourning--children grandchildren, and -great-grandchildren--were all present; but none of them wept. - -To have shed tears would have looked like affectation. The Countess was -so old that her death could have taken no one by surprise, and she had -long been looked upon as already out of the world. The funeral sermon -was delivered by a celebrated preacher. In a few simple, touching -phrases he painted the final departure of the just, who had passed -long years of contrite preparation, for a Christian end. The service -concluded in the midst of respectful silence. Then the relations went -towards the defunct to take a last farewell After them, in a long -procession, all who had been, invited to the ceremony bowed, for the -last time, to her who for so many years had been a scarecrow at their -entertainments. Finally came the Countess's household; among them was -remarked an old governess, of the same age as the deceased, supported -by two woman. She had not strength enough to kneel down, but tears -flowed from her eyes, as she kissed the hand of her old mistress. - -In his turn Hermann advanced towards the coffin. He knelt down for a -moment on the flagstones, which were strewed with branches of yew. Then -he rose, as pale as death, and walked up the steps of the catafalque. -He bowed his head. But suddenly the dead woman seemed to be staring at -him; and with a mocking look she opened and shut one eye. Hermann by -a sudden movement started and fell backwards. Several persons hurried -towards him. At the same moment, close to the church door, Lisaveta -fainted. - -Throughout the day Hermann suffered from a strange indisposition. In a -quiet restaurant, where he took his meals, he, contrary to his habit, -drank a great deal of wine, with the object of stupefying himself. But -the wine had no effect but to excite his imagination, and give fresh -activity to the ideas with which he was preoccupied. - -He went home earlier than usual, lay down with his clothes on upon -the bed, and fell into a leaden sleep. When he woke up it was night, -and the room was lighted up by the rays of the moon. He looked at his -watch; it was a quarter to three. He could sleep no more. He sat up on -the bed and thought of the old Countess. At this moment someone in -the street passed the window, looked into the room, and then went on. -Hermann scarcely noticed it; but in another minute he heard the door of -the ante-chamber open. He thought, that his orderly, drunk as usual, -was returning from some nocturnal excursion; but the step was one to -which he was not accustomed. Somebody seemed to be softly walking over -the floor in slippers. - -[Illustration: "HERMANN STARTED AND FELL BACKWARDS."] - -The door opened, and a woman, dressed entirely in white, entered the -bedroom. Hermann thought it must be his old nurse, and he asked himself -what she could want at that time of night. - -But the woman in white, crossing the room with a rapid step, was now at -the foot of his bed, and Hermann recognised the Countess. - -"I come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice. "I am forced -to grant your prayer. Three, seven, ace, will win, if played one after -the other; but you must not play more than one card in twenty-four -hours, and afterwards, as long as you live, you must never touch a -card again. I forgive you my death on condition of your marrying my -companion, Lisaveta Ivanovna." - -With these words she walked towards the door, and gliding with her -slippers over the floor, disappeared. Hermann heard the door of the -ante-chamber open, and soon afterwards saw a white figure pass along -the street. It stopped for a moment before his window, as if to look -at him. - -Hermann remained, for some time astounded. Then he got up and went into -the next room. His orderly, drunk as usual, was asleep on the floor. He -had much difficulty in waking him, and then could not obtain from him -the least explanation. The door of the ante-chamber was locked. - -Hermann went back to his bedroom, and wrote down all the details of his -vision. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world, than in -the physical two bodies can occupy the same place at the same time; and -"Three, seven, ace" soon drove away Hermann's recollection of the old -Countess's last moments. "Three, seven, ace" were now in his head to -the exclusion of everything else. - -They followed him in his dreams, and appeared to him under strange -forms. Threes seemed to be spread before him like magnolias, sevens -took the form of Gothic doors, and aces became gigantic spiders. - -His thoughts concentrated themselves on one single point. How was he -to profit by the secret so dearly purchased? What if he applied for -leave to travel? At Paris, he said to himself, he would find some -gambling-house where, with his three cards, he could at once make his -fortune. - -Chance soon came to his assistance. There was at Moscow a society of -rich gamblers, presided over by the celebrated Tchekalinski, who had -passed all his life playing at cards, and had amassed millions. For -while he lost silver only, he gained bank-notes. His magnificent house, -his excellent kitchen, his cordial manners, had brought him numerous -friends and secured for him general esteem. - -When he came to St. Petersburg, the young men of the capital filled -his rooms, forsaking balls for his card-parties, and preferring the -emotions of gambling to the fascinations of flirting. Hermann was taken -to Tchekalinski by Narumoff. They passed through a long suite of rooms, -full of the most attentive, obsequious servants. The place was crowded. -Generals and high officials were playing at whist; young men were -stretched out on the sofas, eating ices and smoking long pipes. In the -principal room at the head of a long table, around which were assembled -a score of players, the master of the house held a faro bank. - -He was a man of about sixty, with a sweet and noble expression of -face, and hair white as snow. On his full, florid countenance might -be read good humour and benevolence. His eyes shone with a perpetual -smile. Narumoff introduced Hermann. Tchekalinski took him by the hand, -told him that he was glad to see him, that no one stood on ceremony -in his house; and then went on dealing. The deal occupied some time, -and stakes were made on more than thirty cards. Tchekalinski waited -patiently to allow the winners time to double their stakes, paid what -he had lost, listened politely to all observations, and, more politely -still, put straight the corners of cards, when in a fit of absence some -one had taken the liberty of turning them down. At last when the game -was at an end, Tchekalinski collected the cards, shuffled them again, -had them cut, and then dealt anew. - -"Will you allow me to take a card?" said Hermann, stretching out his -arm above a fat man who occupied nearly the whole of one side of the -table. Tchekalinski, with a gracious smile, bowed in consent. Naroumoff -complimented Hermann, with a laugh, on the cessation of the austerity -by which his conduct had hitherto been marked, and wished him all kinds -of happiness on the occasion of his first appearance in the character -of a gambler. - -"There!" said Hermann, after writing some figures on the back of his -card. - -"How much?" asked the banker, half closing his eyes. "Excuse me, I -cannot see." - -"Forty-seven thousand rubles," said Hermann. - -Everyone's eyes were directed toward the new player. - -"He has lost his head," thought Harumoff. - -"Allow me to point out to you," said Tchekalinski, with his eternal -smile, "that you are playing rather high. We never put down here, as a -first stake, more than a hundred and seventy-five rubles." - -"Very well," said Hermann; "but do you accept my stake or not?" - -Tchekalinski bowed in token of acceptation. "I only wish to point out -to you," he said, "that although I am perfectly sure of my friends, -I can only play against ready money. I am quite convinced that your -word is as good as gold; but to keep up the rules of the game, and to -facilitate calculations, I should be obliged to you if you would put -the money on your card." - -Hermann took a bank-note from his pocket and handed it to Tchekalinski, -who, after examining it with a glance, placed it on Hermann's card. - -Then he began to deal. He turned up on the right a ten, and on the left -a three. - -"I win," said Hermann, exhibiting his three. - -A murmur of astonishment ran through the assembly. The banker knitted -his eyebrows, but speedily his face resumed its everlasting smile. - -"Shall I settle at once?" he asked. - -"If you will be kind enough to do so," said Hermann. - -Tchekalinski took a bundle of bank-notes from his pocket-book, and -paid. Hermann pocketed His winnings and left the table. - -Narumoff was lost in astonishment. Hermann drank a glass of lemonade -and went home. - -The next evening he returned to the house. Tchekalinski again held the -bank. Hermann went to the table, and this time the players hastened to -make room for him. Tchekalinski received him with a most gracious bow. -Hermann waited, took a card, and staked on it his forty-seven thousand -roubles, together with the like sum which he had gained the evening -before. - -Tchekalinski began to deal. He turned up on the right a knave, and on -the left a seven. - -Hermann exhibited a seven. - -There was a general exclamation. Tchekalinski was evidently ill at -ease, but he counted out the ninety-four thousand roubles to Hermann, -who took them in the calmest manner, rose from, the table, and went -away. - -[Illustration: "HE SAW BEFORE HIM A QUEEN OF SPADES."] - -The next evening, at the accustomed hour, he again appeared. Everyone -was expecting him. Generals and high officials had left their whist to -watch this extraordinary play. The young officers had quitted their -sofas, and even the servants of the house pressed round the table. - -When Hermann took his seat, the other players ceased to stake, so -impatient were they to see him have it out with the banker, who, still -smiling, watched the approach of his antagonist and prepared to meet -him. Each of them untied at the same time a pack of cards. Tchekalinski -shuffled, and Hermann cut. Then the latter took up a card and covered -it with a heap of banknotes. It was like the preliminaries of a duel. A -deep silence reigned through the room. - -Tchekalinski took up the cards with trembling hands and dealt. On one -side he put down a queen and on the other side an ace. - -"Ace wins," said Hermann. - -"No. Queen loses," said Tchekalinski. - -Hermann looked. Instead of ace, he saw a queen of spades before him. He -could not trust his eyes! And now as he gazed, in fascination, on the -fatal card, he fancied that he saw the queen of spades open and then -close her eye, while at the same time she gave a mocking smile. He felt -a thrill of nameless horror. The queen of spades resembled the dead -Countess! - -Hermann is now at the Obukhoff Asylum, room No. 17 a hopeless madman! -He answers no questions which we put to him. Only he mumbles to himself -without cessation, "Three, seven, ace; three, seven, _queen_!" - - - - -THE PISTOL SHOT. - - -CHAPTER I. - - -We were stationed at the little village of Z. The life of an officer -in the army is well known. Drill and the riding school in the morning; -dinner with the colonel or at the Jewish restaurant; and in the evening -punch and cards. - -At Z. nobody kept open house, and there was no girl that anyone could -think of marrying. We used to meet at each other's rooms, where we -never saw anything but one another's uniforms. There was only one man -among us who did not belong to the regiment. He was about thirty-five, -and, of course, we looked upon him as an old fellow. He had the -advantage of experience, and his habitual gloom, stern features, and -his sharp tongue gave him great influence over his juniors. He was -surrounded by a certain mystery. His looks were Russian, but his name -was foreign. He had served in the Hussars, and with credit. No one -knew what had induced him to retire and settle in this out of the way -little village, where he lived in mingled poverty and extravagance. He -always went on foot, and wore a shabby black coat. But he was always -ready to receive any of our officers; and though his dinners, cooked by -a retired soldier, never consisted of more than two or three dishes, -champagne flowed at them like water. His income, or how he got it, no -one knew, and no one ventured to ask. He had a few books on military -subjects and a few novels, which he willingly lent and never asked to -have returned. But, on the other hand, he never returned the books he -himself borrowed. - -His principal recreation was pistol-shooting. The walls of his room -were riddled with bullets-a perfect honeycomb. A rich collection of -pistols was the only thing luxurious in his modestly furnished villa. -His skill as a shot was quite prodigious. If he had undertaken to -shoot a pear off some one's cap not a man in our regiment would have -hesitated to act as target. Our conversation often turned on duelling; -Silvio, so I will call him, never joined in it. When asked if he had -ever fought, he answered curtly, "Yes." But he gave no particulars, and -it was evident that he disliked such questions. We concluded that the -memory of some unhappy victim of his terrible skill preyed heavily upon -his conscience. None of us could ever have suspected him of cowardice. -There are men whose look alone is enough to repel such a suspicion. - -An unexpected incident fairly astonished us. One afternoon about ten -officers were dining with Silvio. They drank as usual, that is to say, -a great deal. After dinner we asked our host to make a pool. For a long -time he refused on the ground that he seldom played. At last he ordered -cards to be brought in. With half a hundred gold pieces on the table we -sat round him, and the game began. It was Silvio's habit not to speak -when playing. He never disputed or explained. If an adversary made a -mistake Silvio without a word chalked it down against him. Knowing his -way we always let him have it. - -But among us on this occasion was an officer who had but lately joined. -While playing he absent-mindedly scored a point too much. Silvio took -the chalk and corrected the score in his own fashion. The officer, -supposing him to have made a mistake, began to explain. Silvio went -on dealing in silence. The officer, losing patience, took the brush -and rubbed out what he thought was wrong. Silvio took the chalk and -recorrected it. The officer, heated with wine and play, and irritated -by the laughter of the company, thought himself aggrieved, and, in a -fit of passion, seized a brass candlestick and threw it at Silvio, who -only just managed to avoid the missile. Great was our confusion. Silvio -got up, white with rage, and said, with sparkling eyes-- - -"Sir! have the goodness to withdraw, and you may thank God that this -has happened in my own house." - -We could have no doubt as to the consequences, and we already looked -upon our new comrade as a dead man. He withdrew saying that he was -ready to give satisfaction for his offence in any way desired. - -The game went on for a few minutes; but feeling that our host was upset -we gradually left off playing and dispersed, each to his own quarters. -At the riding school next day we were already asking one another -whether the young lieutenant was still alive, when he appeared among -us. We asked him the same question, and were told that he had not yet -heard from Silvio. We were astonished. We went to Silvio's and found -him in the court-yard popping bullet after bullet into an ace which he -had gummed to the gate. He received us as usual, but made no allusion -to what had happened on the previous evening. - -Three days passed and the lieutenant was still alive. "Can it be -possible," we asked one another in astonishment, "that Silvio will not -fight?" - -Silvio did not fight. He accepted a flimsy apology, and became -reconciled to the man who had insulted him. This lowered him greatly -in the opinion of the young men, who, placing bravery above all the -other human virtues and regarding it as an excuse for every imaginable -vice, were ready to overlook anything sooner than a lack of courage. -However, little by little, all was forgotten, and Silvio regained his -former influence. I alone could not renew my friendship with him. -Being naturally romantic I had surpassed the rest in my attachment -to the man whose life was an enigma, and who seemed to me a hero of -some mysterious story. He liked me, and with me alone did he drop his -sarcastic tone and converse simply and most agreeably on many subjects. -But after this unlucky evening the thought that his honour was -tarnished, and that it remained so by his own choice, never left me; -and this prevented any renewal of our former intimacy. I was ashamed to -look at him. Silvio was too sharp and experienced not to notice this -and guess the reason. It seemed to vex him, for I observed that once or -twice he hinted at an explanation; but I wanted none, and Silvio gave -me up. Thenceforth I only met him in the presence of other friends, and -our confidential talks were at an end. - -The busy occupants of the capital have no idea of the emotions so -frequently experienced by residents in the country and in country -towns; as, for instance, in awaiting the arrival of the post. On -Tuesdays and Fridays the bureau of the regimental staff was crammed -with officers. Some were expecting money, others letters or newspapers. -The letters were mostly opened on the spot, and the news freely -interchanged, the office meanwhile presenting a most lively appearance. - -Silvio's letters used to be addressed to our regiment, and he usually -called for them himself. On one occasion, a letter having been handed -to him, I saw him break the seal and, with a look of great impatience, -read the contents. His eyes sparkled. The other officers, each engaged -with his own letters, did not notice anything. - -"Gentlemen," said Silvio, "circumstances demand my immediate departure. -I leave tonight, and I hope you will not refuse to dine with me for the -last time. I shall expect you, too," he added, "turning towards me, -without fail." With these words he hurriedly left, and we agreed to -meet at Silvio's. - -I went to Silvio's at the appointed time and found nearly the whole -regiment with him. His things were already packed. Nothing remained -but the bare shot-marked walls. We sat down to table. The host was in -excellent spirits, and his liveliness communicated itself to the rest -of the company. Corks popped every moment. Bottles fizzed and tumblers -foamed incessantly, and we, with much warmth, wished our departing -friend a pleasant journey and every happiness. The evening was far -advanced when we rose from table. During the search for hats, Silvio -wished everybody goodbye. Then, taking me by the hand, as I was on the -point of leaving, he said in a low voice: - -"I want to speak to you." - -I stopped behind. - -The guests had gone and we were left alone. - -Sitting down opposite one another we lighted our pipes. Silvio was much -agitated, no traces of his former gaiety remained. Deadly pale, with -sparkling eyes, and a thick smoke issuing from his mouth, he looked -like a demon. Several minutes passed before he broke silence. - -"Perhaps we shall never meet again," he said. "Before saying goodbye I -want to have a few words with you. You may have remarked that I care -little for the opinion of others. But I like you, and should be sorry -to leave you under a wrong impression." - -He paused, and began refilling his pipe. I looked down and was silent. - -"You thought it odd," he continued, "that I did not require -satisfaction from that drunken maniac. You will grant, however, that -being entitled to the choice of weapons I had his life more or less in -my hands. I might attribute my tolerance to generosity, but I will not -deceive you; if I could have chastised him without the least risk to -myself, without the slightest danger to my own life, then I would on no -account have forgiven him." - -[Illustration: "HERE IS A MEMENTO OF OUR DUEL."] - -I looked at Silvio with surprise. Such a confession completely upset -me. Silvio continued: - -"Precisely so, I had no right to endanger my life. Six years ago I -received a slap in the face and my enemy still lives." - -My curiosity was greatly excited. - -"Did you not fight him?" I inquired. "Circumstances probably separated -you?" - -"I did fight him," replied Silvio, "and here is a memento of our duel." - -He rose and took from a cardboard box a red cap with a gold tassel and -gold braid. - -"My disposition is well known to you. I have been accustomed to be -first in everything. Prom my youth this has been my passion. In my -time dissipation was the fashion, and I was the most dissipated man -in the army. We used to boast of our drunkenness. I beat at drinking -the celebrated Burtsoff, of whom Davidoff has sung in his poems. Duels -in our regiment were of daily occurrence. I took part in all of them, -either as second or as principal. My comrades adored me, while the -commanders of the regiment, who were constantly being changed, looked -upon me as an incurable evil. - -"I was calmly, or rather boisterously, enjoying my reputation when -a certain young man joined our regiment. He was rich, and came of -a distinguished family--I will not name him. Never in my life did -I meet with so brilliant, so fortunate a fellow!--young, clever, -handsome, with the wildest spirits, the most reckless bravery, bearing -a celebrated name, possessing funds of which he did not know the -amount, but which were inexhaustible. You may imagine the effect he -was sure to produce among us. My leadership was shaken. Dazzled by -my reputation he began by seeking my friendship. But I received him -coldly; at which, without the least sign of regret, he kept aloof from -me. - -[Illustration: "WE CLUTCHED OUR SWORDS."] - -"I took a dislike to him. His success in the regiment and in the -society of women brought me to despair. I tried to pick a quarrel with -him. To my epigrams he replied with epigrams which always seemed to me -more pointed and more piercing than my own, and which were certainly -much livelier; for while he joked I was raving. - -"Finally, at a ball at the house of a Polish landed proprietor, seeing -him receive marked attention from all the ladies, and especially from -the lady of the house, who had formerly been on very friendly terms -with me, I whispered some low insult in his ear. He flew into a passion -and gave me a slap on the cheek. We clutched our swords, the ladies -fainted, we were separated, and the same night we drove out to fight. - -"It was nearly daybreak. I was standing at the appointed spot with my -three seconds. How impatiently I awaited my opponent! The spring sun -had risen and it was growing hot. At last I saw him in the distance. He -was on foot, accompanied by only one second. We advanced to meet him. -He approached, holding in his hand his regimental cap filled full of -black cherries. - -"The seconds measured twelve paces. It was for me to fire first. But -my excitement was so great that I could not depend upon the certainty -of my hand, and, in order to give myself time to get calm, I ceded the -first shot to my adversary. He would not accept it, and we decided to -cast lots. - -"The number fell to him; constant favourite of fortune that he was! He -aimed and put a bullet through my cap. - -"It was now my turn. His life at last was in my hands. I looked at him -eagerly, trying to detect if only some faint shadow of uneasiness. But -he stood beneath my pistol picking out ripe cherries from his cap and -spitting out the stones, some of which fell near me. His indifference -enraged me. 'What is the use,' thought I, 'of depriving him of life, -when he sets no value upon it.' As this savage thought flitted through -my brain I lowered the pistol. - -"'You don't seem to be ready for death,' I said, 'you are eating your -breakfast, and I don't want to interfere with you.' - -"'You don't interfere with me in the least,' he replied. 'Be good -enough to fire; or don't fire if you prefer it; the shot remains with -you, and I shall be at your service at any moment.' - -"I turned to the seconds, informing them that I had no intention of -firing that day, and with this the duel ended. I resigned my commission -and retired to this little place. Since then not a single day has -passed that I have not thought of my revenge; and now the hour has -arrived." - -[Illustration: "HIS LIFE AT LAST WAS IN MY HANDS."] - -Silvio took from his pocket the letter he had received that morning, -and handed it to me to read. Someone (it seemed to be his business -agent) wrote to him from Moscow, that a certain individual was soon to -be married to a young and beautiful girl. - -"You guess," said Silvio, "who the certain individual is. I am starting -for Moscow. Me shall see whether he will be as indifferent now as he -was some time ago, when in presence of death he ate cherries!" - -With these words Silvio rose, threw his cap upon the floor, and began -pacing up and down the room like a tiger in his cage. I remained -silent. Strange contending feelings agitated me. - -The servant entered and announced that the horses were ready. Silvio -grasped my hand tightly. He got into the _telega_, in which lay two -trunks--one containing his pistols, the other some personal effects. We -wished good-bye a second time, and the horses galloped off. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Many years passed, and family circumstances obliged me to settle in the -poor little village of H. Engaged in farming, I sighed in secret for my -former merry, careless existence. Most difficult of all I found it to -pass in solitude the spring and winter evenings. Until the dinner hour -I somehow occupied the time, talking to the _starosta_, driving round -to see how the work went on, or visiting the new buildings. But as soon -as evening began to draw in, I was at a loss what to do with myself. My -books in various bookcases, cupboards, and storerooms I knew by heart. -The housekeeper, Kurilovna, related to me all the stories she could -remember. The songs of the peasant women made me melancholy. I tried -cherry brandy, but that gave me the headache. I must confess, however, -that I had some fear of becoming a drunkard from _ennui_, the saddest -kind of drunkenness imaginable, of which I had seen many examples in -our district. - -I had no near neighbours with the exception of two or three melancholy -ones, whose conversation consisted mostly of hiccups and sighs. -Solitude was preferable to that. Finally I decided to go to bed as -early as possible, and to dine as late as possible, thus shortening the -evening and lengthening the day; and I found this plan a good one. - -Pour versts from my place was a large estate belonging to Count B.; -but the steward alone lived there. The Countess had visited her domain -once only, just after her marriage, and she then only lived there about -a month. However, in the second spring of my retirement, there was a -report that the Countess, with her husband, would come to spend the -summer on her estate; and they arrived at the beginning of June. - -The advent of a rich neighbour is an important event for residents in -the country. The landowners and the people of their household talk of -it for a couple of months beforehand, and for three years afterwards. -As far as I was concerned, I must confess, the expected arrival of -a young and beautiful neighbour affected me strongly. I burned with -impatience to see her; and the first Sunday after her arrival I started -for the village, in order to present myself to the Count and Countess -as their near neighbour and humble servant. - -The footman showed me into the Count's study, while he went to -inform him of my arrival. The spacious room was furnished in a most -luxurious manner. Against the walls stood enclosed bookshelves well -furnished with books, and surmounted by bronze busts. Over the marble -mantelpiece was a large mirror. The floor was covered with green -cloth, over which were spread rugs and carpets. - -Having got unaccustomed to luxury in my own poor little corner, and not -having beheld the wealth of other people for a long while, I was awed; -and I awaited the Count with a sort of fear, just as a petitioner from -the provinces awaits in an ante-room the arrival of the minister. The -doors opened, and a man about thirty-two, and very handsome, entered -the apartment. The Count approached me with a frank and friendly look. -I tried to be self-possessed, and began to introduce myself, but he -forestalled me. - -We sat down. His easy and agreeable, conversation soon dissipated my -nervous timidity. I was already passing into my usual manner, when -suddenly the Countess entered, and I became more confused than ever. -She was, indeed, beautiful. The Count presented me. I was anxious to -appear at ease, but the more I tried to assume an air of unrestraint, -the more awkward I felt myself becoming. They, in order to give me time -to recover myself and get accustomed to my new acquaintances, conversed -with one another, treating me in good neighbourly fashion without -ceremony. Meanwhile, I walked about the room, examining the books and -pictures. In pictures I am no _connoisseur_; but one of the Count's -attracted my particular notice. It represented a view in Switzerland -was not, however, struck by the painting, but by the fact that it was -shot through by two bullets, one planted just on the top of the other. - -"A good shot," I remarked, turning to the Count. - -"Yes," he replied, "a very remarkable shot." - -"Do you shoot well?" he added. - -"Tolerably," I answered, rejoicing that the conversation had turned -at last on a subject which interested me.' "At a distance of thirty -paces I do not miss a card; I mean, of course, with a pistol that I am -accustomed to." - -"Really?" said the Countess, with a look of great interest. "'And you, -my dear, could you hit a card at thirty paces?" - -"Some day," replied the Count, "we will try. In my own time I did not -shoot badly. But it is four years now since I held a pistol in my hand." - -"Oh," I replied, "in that case, I bet, Count, that you will not hit a -card even at twenty paces. The pistol demands daily practice. I know -that from experience. In our regiment I was reckoned one of the bests -shots. Once I happened not to take a pistol in hand for a whole month; -I had sent my own to the gunsmith's. Well, what do you think, Count? -The first time I began again to shoot I four times running missed -a bottle at twenty paces. The captain of our company, who was a wit, -happened to be present, and he said to me: 'Your hand, my friend, -refuses to raise itself against the bottle! No, Count, you must not -neglect to practise, or you will soon lose all skill. The best shot I -ever knew used to shoot every day, and at least three times every day, -before dinner. This was as much his habit as the preliminary glass of -vodka." - -[Illustration: "SILVIO! _YOU_ KNEW SILVIO?"] - -The Count and Countess seemed pleased that I had begun to talk. - -"And what sort of a shot was he?" asked the Count. - -"This sort, Count. If he saw a fly settle on the wall--you smile, -Countess, but I assure you it is a fact. When he saw the fly, he would -call out, 'Kuska, my pistol!' Kuska brought him the loaded pistol. A -crack, and the fly was crushed into the wall!" - -"That is astonishing!" said the Count. "And what was his name?" - -"Silvio was his name." - -"Silvio!" exclaimed the Count, starting from his seat. "_You_ knew -Silvio?" - -"How could I fail to know him? We were comrades; he was received at our -mess like a brother officer. It is now about five years since I last -had tidings of him. Then you, Count, also knew him?" - -"I knew him very well. Did he never tell you of one very extraordinary -incident in his life?" - -"Do you mean the slap in the face, Count, that he received from -a blackguard at a ball?" "He did not tell you the name of this -blackguard?" - -"No, Count, he did not. Forgive me," I added, guessing the truth, -"forgive me--I did not--could it really have been you?" - -"It was myself," replied the Count, greatly agitated. "And the shots in -the picture are a memento of our last meeting." - -"Oh, my dear," said the Countess, "for God's sake do not relate it! It -frightens me to think of it." - -"No," replied the Count; "I must tell him all. He knows how I insulted -his friend. He shall also know how Silvio revenged himself." - -The Count pushed a chair towards me, and with the liveliest interest I -listened to the following story:-- - -"Five years ago," began the Count, "I got married. The honeymoon I -spent here, in this village. To this house I am indebted for the -happiest moments of my life, and for one of its saddest remembrances. - -"One afternoon we went out riding together. My wife's horse became -restive. She was frightened, got off the horse, handed the reins over -to me; and walked home. I rode on before her. In the yard I saw a -travelling carriage, and I was told that in my study sat a man who -would not give his name, but simply said that he wanted to see me on -business. I entered the study, and saw in the darkness a man, dusty and -unshaven. He stood there, by the fireplace. I approached him, trying to -recollect his face. - -"'You don't remember me, Count?' he said, in a tremulous voice. - -"'Silvio!' I cried, and I confess I felt that my hair was standing on -end. - -"'Exactly so,' he added. 'You owe me a shot; I have come to claim it. -Are you ready?' - -"A pistol protruded from his side pocket. - -"I measured twelve paces, and stood there in that corner, begging him -to fire quickly, before my wife came in. - -"He hesitated, and asked for a light. Candles were brought in. I locked -the doors, gave orders that no one should enter, and again called upon -him to fire. He took out his pistol and aimed. - -"I counted the seconds.... I thought of her ... A terrible moment -passed! Then Silvio lowered his hand. - -"'I only regret,' he said, that the pistol is not loaded with -cherry-stones. My bullet is heavy; and it always seems to me that an -affair of this kind is net a duel, but a murder. I am not accustomed -to aim at unarmed men. Let us begin again from the beginning. Let us -cast lots as to who shall fire first.' - -"My head went round. I think I objected. Finally, however, we loaded -another pistol and rolled up two pieces of paper. These he placed -inside his cap; the one through which, at our first meeting, I had put -the bullet. I again drew the lucky number. - -"'Count, you have the devil's luck,' he said, with a smile which I -shall never forget. - -"I don't know what I was about, or how it happened that he succeeded in -inducing me. But I fired and hit that picture." - -The Count pointed with his finger to the picture with the shot-marks -His face had become red with agitation. The Countess was whiter than -her own handkerchief; and I could not restrain an exclamation. - -"I fired," continued the Count, "and, thank Heaven, missed. Then -Silvio--at this moment he was really terrible--then Silvio raised his -pistol to take aim at me. - -"Suddenly the door flew open, Masha rushed into the room. She threw -herself upon my neck with a loud shriek. Her presence restored to -me-all my courage. - -"'My dear,' I said to her, 'don't you see that we are only joking? How -frightened you look! Go and drink a glass of water and then come back; -I will introduce you to an old friend and comrade.' - -Masha was still in doubt. - -[Illustration: "MASHA THREW HERSELF AT HIS FEET"] - -"'Tell me; is my husband speaking the truth?' she asked, turning to the -terrible Silvio. 'Is it true that you are only joking?' - -"'He is always joking. Countess,' Silvio replied. 'He once in a joke -gave me a slap in the face; in joke he put a bullet through this cap -while I was wearing it; and in joke, too, he missed me when he fired -just now. And now _I_ have a fancy for a joke.' - -"With these words he raised his pistol as if to shoot me down before -her eyes." - -Masha threw herself at his feet. - -'Rise, Masha! For shame!' I cried, in my passion. 'And you, sir, cease -to amuse yourself at the expense of an unhappy woman. Will you fire or -not?' - -"'I will not,' replied Silvio. 'I am satisfied. I have witnessed your -agitation--your terror. I forced you to fire at me. That is enough; you -will remember me. I leave you to your conscience.' - -"He was now about to go; but he stopped at the door, looked round -at the picture which my shot had passed through, fired at it almost -without taking aim, and disappeared. - -"My wife had sunk down fainting. The servants had not ventured to stop -Silvio, whom they looked upon with terror. He passed out to the steps, -called his coachman, and before I could collect myself drove off." - -The Count was silent. I had now heard the end of the story of which -the beginning had long before surprised me. The hero of it I never saw -again. I heard, however, that Silvio, during the rising of Alexander -Ipsilanti, commanded a detach of insurgents and was killed in action. - - - - -THE SNOWSTORM. - - -Towards the end of 1811, at a memorable period for Russians, lived -on his own domain of Nenaradova the kind-hearted Gravril R. He was -celebrated in the whole district for his hospitality and his genial -character. Neighbours constantly visited him to have something to eat -and drink, and to play at five-copeck boston with his wife, Praskovia. -Some, too, went to have a look at their daughter, Maria; a tall pale -girl of seventeen. She was an heiress, and they desired her either for -themselves or for their sons. - -Maria had been brought up on French novels, and consequently was in -love. The object of her affection was a poor ensign in the army, who -was now at home in his small village on leave of absence. As a matter -of course, the young man reciprocated Maria's passion. But the parents -of his beloved, noticing their mutual attachment, forbade their -daughter even to think of him, while they received him worse than an -ex-assize judge. - -[Illustration: "THE LOVERS MET IN THE PINE WOOD."] - -Our lovers corresponded, and met alone daily in the pine wood or by -the old roadway chapel. There they vowed everlasting love, inveighed -against fate, and exchanged various suggestions. Writing and talking in -this way, they quite naturally reached the following conclusion:-- - -If we cannot exist apart from each other, and if the tyranny of -hard-hearted parents throws obstacles in the way of our happiness, then -can we not manage without them? - -Of course, this happy idea originated in the mind of the young man; but -it pleased the romantic imagination of Maria immensely. - -Winter set in and put a stop to their meetings. But their -correspondence became all the more active. Vladimir begged Maria in -every letter to give herself up to him that they might get married -secretly, hide for a while, and then throw themselves at the feet of -the parents, who would of course in the end be touched by their heroic -constancy and say to them, "Children, come to our arms!" - -Maria hesitated a long while, and out of many different plans proposed, -that of flight was for a time rejected. At last, however, she -consented. On the appointed day she was to decline supper, and retire -to her room under the plea of a headache. She and her maid, who was in -the secret, were then to go out into the garden by the back stairs, -and beyond the garden they would find a sledge ready for them, would -get into it and drive a distance of five miles from Nenaradova, to the -village of Jadrino, straight to the church, where Vladimir would be -waiting for them. - -On the eve of the decisive day, Maria did not sleep all night; she was -packing and tying up linen and dresses. She wrote, moreover, a long -letter to a friend of hers, a sentimental young lady; and another to -her parents. Of the latter, she took leave in the most touching terms. -She excused the step she was taking by reason of the unconquerable -power of love, and wound up by declaring that she should consider it -the happiest moment of her life when she was allowed to throw herself -at the feet of her dearest parents. Sealing both letters with a Toula -seal, on which were engraven two flaming hearts with an appropriate -inscription, she at last threw herself upon her bed before daybreak -and dozed off, though even then she was awake tied from one moment -to another by terrible thoughts. First it seemed to her that at the -moment of entering the sledge in order to go and get married her father -stopped her, and with cruel rapidity dragged her over the snow and -threw her into a dark bottomless cellar, down which she fell headlong -with an indescribable sinking of the heart. Then she saw Vladimir, -lying on the grass, pale and bleeding; with his dying breath he -implored her to make haste and marry him. Other hideous and senseless -visions floated before her one after another. Finally she rose paler -than usual, and with, a real headache. - -[Illustration: "SHE BURST INTO TEARS."] - -Both her father and her mother remarked her indisposition. Their -tender anxiety and constant inquiries, "What is the matter with you, -Masha--are you ill?" cut her to the heart. She tried to pacify them and -to appear cheerful; but she could not. Evening set in. The idea that -she was passing the day for the last time in the midst of her family -oppressed her. In her secret heart she took leave of everybody, of -everything which surrounded her. - -Supper was served; her heart beat violently. In a trembling voice she -declared that she did not want any supper, and wished her father and -mother good-night. They kissed her, and as usual blessed her; and she -nearly wept. - -Reaching her own room she threw herself into an easy chair and burst -into tears. Her maid begged her to be calm and take courage. Everything -was ready. In half-an-hour Masha would leave for ever her parents' -house, her own room, her peaceful life as a young girl. - -Out of doors the snow was falling, the wind howling. The shutters -rattled and shook. In everything she seemed to recognise omens and -threats. - -Soon the whole home was quiet and asleep. Masha wrapped herself in a -shawl, put on a warm cloak, and with a box in her hand passed out on -to the back staircase. The maid carried two bundles after her. They -descended into the garden. The snowstorm raged: a strong wind blew -against them as if trying to stop the young culprit. With difficulty -they reached the end of the garden. In the road a sledge awaited them. - -The horses from cold would not stand still. Vladimir's coachman was -walking to and fro in front of them, trying to quiet them. He helped -the young lady and her maid to their seats, and packing away the -bundles and the dressing-case took up the reins, and the horses flew -forward into the darkness of the night. - - * * * * * - -Having entrusted the young lady to the care of fate and of Tereshka the -coachman, let us return to the young lover. - -Vladimir had spent the whole day in driving. In the morning he had -called on the Jadrino priest, and, with difficulty, came to terms with -him. Then he went to seek for witnesses from amongst the neighbouring -gentry. The first on whom he called was a former cornet of horse, -Dravin by name, a man in his forties, who consented at once. The -adventure, he declared, reminded him of old times and of his larks -when he was in the Hussars. He persuaded Vladimir to stop to dinner -with him, assuring him that there would be no difficulty in getting -the other two witnesses. Indeed, immediately after dinner in came -the surveyor Schmidt, with a moustache and spurs, and the son of a -captain-magistrate, a boy of sixteen, who had recently entered the -Uhlans. They not only accepted Vladimir's proposal, but even swore that -they were ready to sacrifice their lives for him. Vladimir embraced -them with delight, and drove off to get everything ready. - -It had long been dark. Vladimir despatched his trustworthy Tereshka -to Nenaradova with his two-horsed sledge, and with appropriate -instructions for the occasion. For himself he ordered the small sledge -with one horse, and started alone without a coachman for Jadrino, where -Maria ought to arrive in a couple of hours. He knew the road, and the -drive would only occupy twenty minutes. - -But Vladimir had scarcely passed from the enclosure into the open field -when the wind rose, and soon there was a driving snowstorm so heavy and -so severe that he could not see. In a moment the road was covered with -snow. All landmarks disappeared in the murky yellow darkness, through -which fell white flakes of snow. Sky and earth became merged into one. -Vladimir, in the midst of the field, tried in vain to get to the road. -The horse walked on at random, and every moment stepped either into -deep snow or into a rut, so that the sledge was constantly upsetting. -Vladimir tried at least not to lose the right direction; but it seemed -to him that more than half an hour had passed, and he had not yet -reached the Jadrino wood. Another ten minutes passed, and still the -wood was invisible. Vladimir drove across fields intersected by deep -ditches. The snowstorm did not abate, and the sky did not clear. The -horse was getting tired and the perspiration rolled from him like hail, -in spite of the fact that every moment his legs were disappearing in -the snow. - -At last Vladimir found that he was going in the wrong direction. He -stopped; began to reflect, recollect, and consider; till at last he -became convinced that he ought to have turned to the right. He did so -now. His horse could scarcely drag along. But he had been more than -an hour on the road, and Jadrino could not now be far. He drove and -drove, but there was no getting out of the field. Still snow-drifts and -ditches. Every moment the sledge was upset, and every moment Vladimir -had to raise it up. - -Time was slipping by, and Vladimir grew seriously anxious. At last in -the distance some dark object could be seen. - -Vladimir turned in its direction, and as he drew near found it was a -wood. - -"Thank Heaven," he thought, "I am now near the end." - -He drove by the side of the wood, hoping to come at once upon the -familiar road, or, if not, to pass round the wood. Jadrino was situated -immediately behind it. - -He soon found the road, and passed into the darkness of the wood, now -stripped by the winter. The wind could not rage here; the road was -smooth, the horse picked up courage, and Vladimir was comforted. - -He drove and drove, but still Jadrino was not to be seen; there was no -end to the wood. Then to his horror he discovered that he had got into -a strange wood. He was in despair. He whipped his horse, and the poor -animal started off at a trot. But it soon got tired, and in a quarter -of an hour, in spite of all poor Vladimir's efforts, could only crawl. - -Gradually the trees became thinner, and Vladimir drove out of the wood, -but Jadrino was not to be seen. It must have been about midnight. -Tears gushed from the young man's eyes. He drove on at random; and now -the weather abated, the clouds dispersed, and before him was a wide -stretch of plain, covered with a white billowy carpet. The night was -comparatively clear, and he could see a small village a short distance -off, which consisted of four or five cottages. Vladimir drove towards -it. At the first door he jumped out of the sledge, ran up to the -window, and tapped. After a few minutes a wooden, shutter was raised, -and an old man stuck out his grey beard. - -"What do you want?" - -"How far is Jadrino?" - -"How far is Jadrino?" - -"Yes, yes! Is it far?" - -"Not far; about ten miles." - -At this answer Vladimir clutched hold of his hair, and stood -motionless, like a man condemned to death. - -"Where do you come from?" added the man. Vladimir had not the courage -to reply. - -"My man," he said, "can you procure me horses to Jadrino?" - -"We have no horses," answered the peasant. - -"Could I find a guide? I will pay him any sum he likes." - -"Stop!" said the old man, dropping the shutter; "I will send my son out -to you; he will conduct you." - -Vladimir waited. Scarcely a minute had passed when he again knocked. -The shutter was lifted and a beard was seen. - -"What do you want?" - -"What about your son?" - -"He'll come out directly: he is putting on his boots. Are you cold? -Come in and warm yourself." - -"Thanks! Send out your son quickly." - -The gate creaked; a youth came out with a cudgel, and walked on in -front, at one time pointing out the road, at another looking for it in -a mass of drifted snow. - -"What o'clock is it?" Vladimir asked him. - -"It will soon be daylight," replied the young-peasant. Vladimir spoke -not another word. - -The cocks were crowing, and it was light when they reached Jadrino. The -church was closed. Vladimir paid the guide, and drove into the yard of -the priest's house. In the yard his two-horsed sledge was not to be -seen. What news awaited him? - - * * * * * - -But let us return to the kind proprietors of Nenaradova, and see what -is going on there. - -Nothing. - -The old people awoke, and went into the sitting-room, Gavril in a -night-cap and flannel jacket, Praskovia in a wadded dressing-gown. The -samovar was brought in, and, Gavril sent the little maid to ask Maria -how she was and how she had slept. The little maid returned, saying -that her young lady had slept badly, but that she was better now, and -that she would come into the sitting-room in a moment. And indeed the -door opened, and Maria came in and wished her papa and mamma good -morning. - -"How is your head-ache, Masha?" (familiar for Mary) inquired Gavril. - -"Better, papa; answered Masha. - -"The fumes from the stoves must have given you your head-ache," -remarked Praskovia. - -"Perhaps so, mamma," replied Masha. - -The day passed well enough, but in the night Masha was taken ill. A -doctor was sent for from town. He came towards evening and found the -patient delirious. Soon she was in a severe fever, and in a fortnight -the poor patient was on the brink of the grave. - -No member of the family knew anything of the flight from home. The -letters written by Masha the evening before had been burnt; and the -maid, fearing the wrath of the master and mistress, had not breathed -a word. The priest, the ex-cornet, the big moustached surveyor, -and the little lancer were equally discreet, and with good reason. -Tereshka, the coachman, never said too much, not even in his drink. -Thus the secret was kept better than it might have been by half a dozen -conspirators. - -But Maria herself, in the course of her long fever, let out her secret, -nevertheless, her words were so disconnected that her mother, who never -left her bedside, could only make out from them that her daughter -was desperately in love with Vladimir, and that probably love was -the cause of her illness. She consulted her husband and some of her -neighbours, and at last it was decided unanimously that the fate of -Maria ought not to be interfered with, that a woman must not ride away -from the man she is destined to marry, that poverty is no crime, that -a woman has to live not with money but with a man, and so on. Moral -proverbs are wonderfully useful on such occasions, when we can invent -little or nothing in our own justification. - -Meanwhile the young lady began to recover. Vladimir had not been seen -for a long time in the house of Gravril, so frightened had he been by -his previous reception. It was now resolved to send and announce to -him the good news which he could scarcely expect: the consent of her -parents to his marriage with Maria. - -But what was the astonishment of the proprietors of Nenaradova when, -in answer to their invitation, they received an insane reply. Vladimir -informed them he could never set foot in their house, and begged them -to forget an unhappy man whose only hope now was in death. A few days -afterwards they heard that Vladimir had left the place and joined the -army. - -A long time passed before they ventured to tell Masha, who was now -recovering. She never mentioned Vladimir. Some months later, however, -finding his name in the list of those who had distinguished themselves -and been severely wounded at Borodino, she fainted, and it was feared -that the fever might return. But, Heaven be thanked! the fainting fit -had no bad results. - - * * * * * - -Maria experienced yet another sorrow. Her father died, leaving her the -heiress of all his property. But the inheritance could not console her. -She shared sincerely the affliction of her mother, and vowed she would -never leave her. - -Suitors clustered round the charming heiress; but she gave no one the -slightest hope. Her mother sometimes tried to persuade her to choose a -companion in life; but Maria shook her head, and grew pensive. - -Vladimir no longer existed. He had died at Moscow on the eve of the -arrival of the French. His memory was held sacred by Maria, and she -treasured up everything that would remind her of him; books he had -read, drawings which he had made; songs he had sung, and the pieces of -poetry which he had copied out for her. - -The neighbours, hearing all this, wondered at her fidelity, and awaited -with curiosity the arrival of the hero who must in the end triumph over -the melancholy constancy of this virgin Artemis. - -Meanwhile, the war had been brought to a glorious conclusion, and our -armies were returning from abroad. The people ran to meet them. The -music played, by the regimental bands consisted of war songs, "Vive -Henri-Quatre," Tirolese waltzes and airs from Joconde. Nourished on -the atmosphere of winter, officers who had started on the campaign -mere striplings returned grown men, and covered with decorations. The -soldiers conversed gaily among themselves, mingling German and French -words every moment in their speech. A time never to be forgotten--a -time of glory and delight! How quickly beat the Russian heart at -the words, "Native land!" How sweet the tears of meeting! With what -unanimity did we combine feelings of national pride with love for the -Tsar! And for him, what a moment! - -The women--our Russian women--were splendid then. Their usual coldness -disappeared. Their delight was really intoxicating when, meeting the -conquerors, they cried, "Hurrah!" And they threw up their caps in the -air. - -Who of the officers of that period does not own that to the Russian -women he was indebted for his best and most valued reward? During this -brilliant period Maria was living with her mother in retirement, and -neither of them saw how, in both the capitals, the returning troops -were welcomed. But in the districts and villages the general enthusiasm -was, perhaps, even greater. - -[Illustration: "A TIME OF GLORY AND DELIGHT."] - -In these places the appearance of an officer became for him a veritable -triumph. The accepted lover in plain clothes fared badly by his side. - -We have already said that, in spite of her coldness, Maria was -still, as before, surrounded by suitors. But all had to fall in the -rear when there arrived at her castle the wounded young colonel -of Hussars--Burmin by name--with the order of St. George in his -button-hole, and an interesting pallor on his face. He was about -twenty-six. He had come home on leave to his estates, which were close -to Maria's villa. Maria paid him such attention as none of the others -received. In his presence her habitual gloom disappeared. It could not -be said that she flirted with him. But a poet, observing her behaviour, -might have asked, "S' amor non è, che dunque?" - -Burmin was really a very agreeable young man. He possessed just the -kind of sense that pleased women: a sense of what is suitable and -becoming. He had no affectation, and was carelessly satirical. His -manner towards Maria was simple and easy. He seemed to be of a quiet -and modest disposition; but rumour said that he had at one time been -terribly wild. This, however, did not harm him in the opinion of Maria, -who (like all other young ladies) excused, with pleasure, vagaries -which were the result of impulsiveness and daring. - -But above all--more than his love-making, more than his pleasant talk, -more than his interesting pallor, more even than his bandaged arm--the -silence of the young Hussar excited her curiosity and her imagination. -She could not help confessing to herself that he pleased her very much. -Probably he too, with his acuteness and his experience, had seen that -he interested her. How was it, then, that up to this moment she had -not seen him at her feet; had not received from him any declaration -whatever? And wherefore did she not encourage him with more attention, -and, according to circumstances, even with tenderness? Had she a secret -of her own which would account for her behaviour? - -At last, Burmin fell into such deep meditation, and his black eyes -rested with such fire upon Maria, that the decisive moment seemed very -near. The neighbours spoke of the marriage as an accomplished fact, and -kind Praskovia rejoiced that her daughter had at last found for herself -a worthy mate. - -The lady was sitting alone once in the drawing-room, laying out -grande-patience, when Burmin entered the room, and at once inquired for -Maria. - -"She is in the garden," replied the old lady: "go to her, and I will -wait for you here." Burmin went, and the old lady made the sign of the -cross and thought, "Perhaps the affair will be settled to-day!" - -Burmin found Maria in the ivy-bower beside the pond, with a book in -her hands, and wearing a white dress--a veritable heroine of romance. -After the first inquiries, Maria purposely let the conversation drop; -increasing by these means the mutual embarrassment, from which it was -only possible to escape by means of a sudden and positive declaration. - -It happened thus. Burmin, feeling the awkwardness of his position, -informed Maria that he had long sought an opportunity of opening his -heart to her, and that he begged for a moment's attention. Maria closed -the book and lowered her eyes, as a sign that she was listening. - -"I love you," said Burmin, "I love you passionately!" Maria blushed, -and bent her head still lower. - -"I have behaved imprudently, yielding as I have done to the seductive -pleasure of seeing and hearing you daily." Maria recollected the first -letter of St. Preux in 'La Nouvelle Héloïse.' - -"It is too late now to resist my fate. The remembrance of you, your -dear incomparable image, must from to-day be at once the torment and -the consolation of my existence. I have now a grave duty to perform, -a terrible secret to disclose, which will place between us an -insurmountable barrier." - -[Illustration: "IN THE IVY BOWER."] - -"It has always existed!" interrupted Maria; "I could never have been -your wife." - -"I know," he replied quickly; "I know that you once loved. But death -and three years of mourning may have worked some change. Dear, kind -Maria, do not try to deprive me of my last consolation; the idea that -you might have consented to make me happy if----. Don't speak, for -God's sake don't speak--you torture me. Yes, I know, I feel that you -could have been mine, but--I am the most miserable of beings--I am -already married!" - -Maria looked at him in astonishment. - -"I am married," continued Burmin; "I have been married more than three -years, and do not know who my wife is, or where she is, or whether I -shall ever see her again." - -"What are you saying?" exclaimed Maria; "how strange! Pray continue." - -"In the beginning of 1812," said Burmin, a I was hurrying on to -Wilna, where my regiment was stationed. Arriving one evening late -at a station, I ordered, the horses to be got ready quickly, when -suddenly a fearful snowstorm broke out. Both station master and drivers -advised me to wait till it was over. I listened to their advice, but -an unaccountable restlessness took possession of me, just as though -someone was pushing me on. Meanwhile, the snowstorm did not abate. I -could bear it no longer, and again ordered the horses, and started in -the midst of the storm. The driver took it into his head to drive along -the river, which would shorten the distance by three miles. The banks -were covered with snowdrifts; the driver missed the turning which would -have brought us out on to the road, and we turned up in an unknown -place. The storm never ceased. I could discern a light, and told the -driver to make for it. We entered a village, and found that the light -proceeded from a wooden church. The church was open. Outside the -railings stood several sledges, and people passing in and out through -the porch. - -"'Here! here!' cried several voices. I told the coachman to drive up. - -"'Where have you dawdled?' said someone to me. 'The bride has fainted; -the priest does not know what to do: we were on the point of going -back. Make haste and get out!' - -"I got out of the sledge in silence, and stepped into the church, -which was dimly lighted with two or three tapers. A girl was sitting -in a dark corner on a bench; and another girl was rubbing her temples. -'Thank God,' said the latter, 'you have come at last! You have nearly -been the death of the young lady.' - -"The old priest approached me; saying, - -"'Shall I begin?' - -"'Begin--begin, reverend father,' I replied, absently. - -"The young lady was raised up. I thought her rather pretty. Oh, wild, -unpardonable frivolity! I placed myself by her side at the altar. The -priest hurried on. - -"Three men and the maid supported the bride, and occupied themselves -with her alone. We were married! - -"'Kiss your wife,' said the priest. - -"My wife turned her pale face towards me. I was going to kiss her, when -she exclaimed, 'Oh! it is not he--not he!' and fell back insensible. - -"The witnesses stared at me. I turned round and left the church without -any attempt being made to stop me, threw myself into the sledge, and -cried, 'Away!'" - -"What!" exclaimed Maria. "And you don't know what became of your -unhappy wife?" - -"I do not," replied Burmin; "neither do I know the name of the village -where I was married, nor that of the station from which I started. -At that time I thought so little of my wicked joke that, on driving -away from the church, I fell asleep, and never woke till early the -next morning, after reaching the third station. The servant who was -with me died during the campaign, so that I have now no hope of ever -discovering the unhappy woman on whom I played such a cruel trick, and -who is now so cruelly avenged." - -"Great heavens!" cried Maria, seizing his hand. "Then it was you, and -you do not recognise me?" Burmin turned pale--and threw himself at her -feet. - - - - -THE UNDERTAKER. - - -The last remaining goods of the undertaker, Adrian Prohoroff, were -piled on the hearse, and the gaunt pair, for the fourth time, dragged -the vehicle along from the Basmannaia to the Nikitskaia, whither the -undertaker had flitted with all his household. Closing the shop, he -nailed to the gates an announcement that the house was to be sold or -let, and then started on foot for his new abode. Approaching the small -yellow house which had long attracted his fancy and which he at last -bought at a high price, the old undertaker was surprised to find that -his heart did not rejoice. Crossing the strange threshold, he found -disorder inside his new abode, and sighed for the decrepit hovel, where -for eighteen years everything had been kept in the most perfect order. -He began scolding both his daughters and the servant for being so slow, -and proceeded to help them himself. Order was speedily established. -The case with the holy pictures, the cupboard with the crockery, the -table, sofa, and bedstead, took up their appropriate corners in the -back room. In the kitchen and parlour was placed the master's stock -in trade, that is to say, coffins of every colour and of all sizes; -likewise wardrobes containing mourning hats, mantles, and funeral -torches. Over the gate hung a signboard representing a corpulent cupid -holding a reversed torch in his hand, with the following inscription: -"Here coffins are sold, covered, plain, or painted. They are also let -out on hire, and old ones are repaired." - -The daughters had retired to their own room, Adrian went over his -residence, sat down by the window, and ordered the samovar to be got -ready. - -The enlightened reader is aware that both Shakespeare and Walter Scott -have represented their gravediggers as lively jocular people, for the -sake, no doubt, of a strong contrast. But respect for truth prevents me -from following their example; and I must confess that the disposition -of our undertaker corresponded closely with his melancholy trade. -Adrian Prohoroff: was usually pensive and gloomy. He only broke silence -to scold his daughters when he found them idle, looking out of window -at the passers by, or asking too exorbitant prices for his products -from those who had the misfortune (sometimes the pleasure) to require -them. Sitting by the window drinking his seventh cup of tea, according -to his custom, Adrian was wrapped in the saddest thoughts. He was -thinking of the pouring rain, which a week before had met the funeral -of a retired brigadier at the turnpike gate, causing many mantles to -shrink and many hats to contract. He foresaw inevitable outlay, his -existing supply of funeral apparel being in such a sad condition. But -he hoped to make good the loss from the funeral of the old shopwoman, -Tiruhina, who had been at the point of death for the last year. -Tiruhina, however, was dying at Basgulai, and Prohoroff was afraid that -her heirs, in spite of their promise to him, might be too lazy to send -so far, preferring to strike a bargain with the nearest contractor. - -These reflections were interrupted unexpectedly by three freemason -knocks at the door. "Who is there?" enquired the undertaker. The door -opened and a man, in whom at a glance might be recognised a German -artisan, entered the room, and with a cheery look approached the -undertaker. - -"Pardon me, my dear neighbour," he said, with the accent which even now -we Russians never hear without a smile; "Pardon me for disturbing you; -I wanted to make your acquaintance at once. I am a bootmaker, my name -is Gottlieb Schultz, I live in the next street--in that little house -opposite your windows. To morrow I celebrate my silver wedding, and I -want you and your daughters to dine with me in a friendly way." - -The invitation was accepted. The undertaker asked the bootmaker to sit -down and have a cup of tea, and thanks to Gottlieb Schultz's frank -disposition, they were soon talking in a friendly way. - -"How does your business get on?" enquired Adrian. - -"Oh, oh," replied Schultz, "one way and another I have no reason to -complain. Though, of course, my goods are not like yours. A living man -can do without boots, but a corpse cannot do without a coffin." - -"Perfectly true," said Adrian, "still, if a living man has nothing to -buy boots with he goes barefooted, whereas the destitute corpse gets -his coffin sometimes for nothing." - -Their conversation continued in this style for some time, until at last -the bootmaker rose and took leave of the undertaker, repeating his -invitation. - -Next day, punctually at twelve o'clock, the undertaker and his -daughters passed out at the gate of their newly-bought house, and -proceeded to their neighbours. I do not intend to describe Adrian's -Russian caftan nor the European dress of Akulina or Daria, contrary -though this be to the custom of fiction-writers of the present day. -I don't, however, think it superfluous to mention that both, maidens -wore yellow bonnets and scarlet shoes, which they only did on great -occasions. - -The bootmaker's small lodging was filled with guests, principally -German artisans, their wives, and assistants. Of Russian officials -there was only one watchman, the Finn Yurko, who had managed, in spite -of his humble position, to gain the special favour of his chief. He had -also performed the functions of postman for about twenty-five years, -serving truly and faithfully the people of Pogorelsk. The fire which, -in the year 1812, consumed the capital, burnt at the same time his -humble sentry box. But no sooner had the enemy fled, when in its place -appeared a small, new, grey sentry box, with tiny white columns of -Doric architecture, and Yurko resumed his patrol in front of it with -battle-axe on shoulder, and in the civic armour of the police uniform. - -He was well known to the greater portion of the German residents near -the Nikitski Gates, some of whom had occasionally even passed the night -from Sunday until Monday in Yurko's box. - -Adrian promptly made friends with a man of whom, sooner or later, he -might have need, and as the guests were just then going in to dinner -they sat down together. - -Mr. and Mrs. Schultz and their daughter, the seventeen-year-old -Lotchen, while dining with their guests, attended to their wants and -assisted the cook to wait upon them. Beer flowed. Yurko ate for four, -and Adrian did not fall short of him, though his daughters stood upon -ceremony. - -The conversation, which was in German, grew louder every hour. - -Suddenly the host called for the attention of the company, and opening -a pitch-covered bottle, exclaimed loudly in Russian: - -"The health of my good Louisa!" - -The imitation champagne frothed. The host kissed tenderly the fresh -face of his forty-year old spouse and the guests drank vociferously the -health of good Louisa. - -"The health of my dear guests!" cried the host opening the second -bottle. The guests thanked him and emptied their glasses. Then -one toast followed another. The health of each guest was proposed -separately; then the health of Moscow and of about a dozen German -towns. They drank the health of the guilds in general, and afterwards -of each one separately; The health of the foremen and of the workmen. -Adrian drank with a will and became so lively, that he himself proposed -some jocular toast. - -Suddenly one of the guests, a stout baker, raised his glass and -exclaimed: - -"The health of our customers!" - -This toast like all the others was drunk joyfully and unanimously. The -guests nodded to each other; the tailor to the bootmaker, the bootmaker -to the tailor; the baker to them both and all to the baker. - -Yurko in the midst of this bowing called out as he turned towards his -neighbour: - -"Now then! My friend, drink to the health of your corpses." - -Everybody laughed except the undertaker, who felt himself affronted and -frowned. No one noticed this; and the guests went on drinking till the -bells began to ring for evening service, when they all rose from the -table. - -The party had broken up late and most of the guests were very -hilarious. The stout baker, with the bookbinder, whose face looked as -if it were bound in red morocco, led Yurko by the arms to his sentry -box, thus putting in practice the proverb, "One good turns deserves -another." - -The undertaker went home drunk and angry. - -"How, indeed," he exclaimed aloud. "Is my trade worse than any other? -Is an undertaker own brother to the executioner? What have the infidels -to laugh at? Is an undertaker a hypocritical buffoon? I should have -liked to invite them to a housewarming; to give them a grand spread. -But no; that shall not be! I will ask my customers instead; my orthodox -corpses." - -"What!" exclaimed the servant, who at that moment was taking off the -undertaker's boots. "What is that, sir, you are saying? Make the sign -of the cross! Invite corpses to your housewarming! How awful!" - -"I will certainly invite them," persisted Adrian, "and not later than -for to-morrow. Honour me, my benefactors, with your company to-morrow -evening at a feast; I will offer you what God has given me." - -With these words the undertaker retired to bed, and was soon snoring. - -It was still dark when Adrian awoke. The shopkeeper, Triuhina, had died -in the night, and her steward had sent a special messenger on horseback -to inform Adrian of the fact. The undertaker gave him a _grivenik_ [a -silver fourpenny bit] for his trouble, to buy _vodka_ with; dressed -hurriedly, took an _isvoshchik_, and drove off to Rasgulai. At the gate -of the dead woman's house the police were already standing, and dealers -in mourning goods were hovering around, like ravens who have scented -a corpse. The defunct was lying in state on the table, yellow like -wax, but not yet disfigured by decomposition. Hear her, in a crowd, -were relations, friends, and domestics. All the windows were open; -wax tapers were burning; and the clergy were reading prayers. Adrian -went up to the nephew, a young shopman in a fashionable _surtout_, -and informed him that the coffin, tapers, pall, and the funeral -paraphernalia in general would promptly arrive. The heir thanked him in -an absent manner, saying that he would not bargain about the price, but -leave it all to his conscience. The undertaker, as usual, vowed that -his charges should be moderate, exchanged significant glances with the -steward, and left to make the necessary preparations. - -The whole day was spent in travelling from Rasgulai to the Nikitski -Grates and back again. Towards evening everything was settled, and -he started home on foot after discharging his hired _isvoshchik._ It -was a moonlight night, and the undertaker got safely to the Nikitski -Grates. At Yosnessenia he met our acquaintance, Yurko, who, recognising -the undertaker, wished him good-night. It was late. The undertaker was -close to his house when he thought he saw some one approach the gates, -open the wicket, and go in. - -"What does it mean?" thought Adrian. "Who can be wanting me again? Is -it a burglar, or can my foolish girls have lovers coming after them? -There is no telling," and the undertaker was on the point of calling -his friend Yurko to his assistance, when some one else came up to the -wicket and was about to enter, but seeing the master of the house run -towards him, he stopped, and took off his three cornered hat. His face -seemed familiar to Adrian, but in his hurry he had not been able to -see it properly. - -"You want me?" said Adrian, out of breath. "Walk in, if you please." - -"Don't stand on ceremony, my friend," replied the other, in a hollow -voice, "go first, and show your guest the way." - -Adrian had no time to waste on formality. The gate was open, and he -went up to the steps followed by the other. Adrian heard people walking -about in his rooms. - -"What the devil is this?" he wondered, and he hastened to see. But -now his legs seemed to be giving way. The room was full of corpses. -The moon, shining through the windows, lit up their yellow and blue -faces, sunken mouths, dim, half-closed eyes, and protruding noses. To -his horror, Adrian recognised in them people he had buried, and in -the guest who came in with him, the brigadier who had been interred -during a pouring rain. They all, ladies and gentlemen, surrounded the -undertaker, bowing and greeting him affably, except one poor fellow -lately buried gratis, who, ashamed of his rags, kept at a distance in -a corner of the room. The others were all decently clad; the female -corpses in caps and ribbons, the soldiers and officials in their -uniforms, but with unshaven beards; and the tradespeople in their best -caftans. - -"Prohoroff," said the brigadier, speaking on behalf of all the -company, "we have all risen to profit by your invitation. Only those -have stopped at home who were quite unable to do otherwise; who have -crumbled away and have nothing left but bare bones. Even among those -there was one who could not resist--he wanted so much to come." - -At this moment a diminutive skeleton pushed his way through the -crowd and approached Adrian. His death's head grinned affably at the -undertaker. Shreds of green and red cloth and of rotten linen hung on -him as on a pole; while the bones of his feet clattered inside his -heavy boots like pestles in mortars. - -"You do not recognise me, Prohoroff?" said the skeleton. "Don't -you remember the retired, sergeant in the guards, Peter Petrovitch -Kurilkin, him to whom you in the year 1799 sold your first coffin, and -of deal instead of oak?" With these words the corpse stretched out his -long arms to embrace him. But Adrian collecting his strength, shrieked, -and pushed him away. Peter Petrovitch staggered, fell over, and -crumbled to pieces. There was a murmur of indignation among the company -of corpses. All stood up for the honour of their companion, threatening -and abusing Adrian till the poor man, deafened by their shrieks and -quite overcome, lost his senses and fell unconscious among the bones of -the retired sergeant of the guard. - -The sun had been shining for sometime upon the bed on which the -undertaker lay, when he at last opened his eyes and saw the servant -lighting the _samovar._ With horror he recalled all the incidents of -the previous day. Triuchin, the brigadier, and the sergeant, Kurilkin, -passed dimly before his imagination. He waited in silence for the -servant to speak and tell him what had occurred during the night. - -"How you have slept, Adrian Prohorovitch!" said Aksima, handing him his -dressing-gown. "Your neighbour the tailor called, also the watchman, to -say that to-day was Turko's namesday; but you were so fast asleep that -we did not disturb you." - -"Did anyone come from the late Triuhina?" - -"The late? Is she dead, then?" - -"What a fool! Didn't you help me yesterday to make arrangements for her -funeral?" - -"Oh, my _batiushka!_ [little father] are you mad, or are you still -suffering from last night's drink? You were feasting all day at the -German's. You came home drunk, threw yourself on the bed, and and have -slept till now, when the bells have stopped ringing for Mass." - -"Really!" exclaimed the undertaker, delighted at the explanation. - -"Of course," replied the servant. - -"Well, if that is the case, let us have tea quickly, and call my -daughters." - - - - -THE POSTMASTER. - - -Who has not cursed the Postmaster; who has not quarrelled with him? -Who, in a moment of anger, has not demanded the fatal hook to write his -ineffectual complaint against extortion, rudeness, and unpunctuality? -Who does not consider him a human monster, equal only to our extinct -attorney, or, at least, to the brigands of the Murom Woods? Let us, -however, be just and place ourselves in his position, and, perhaps, -we shall judge him less severely. What is a Postmaster? A real martyr -of the 14th class (i.e., of nobility), only protected by his _tchin_ -(rank) from personal violence; and that not always. I appeal to the -conscience of my readers. What is the position of this dictator, as -Prince Yiasemsky jokingly calls him? Is it not really that of a galley -slave? No rest for him day or night. All the irritation accumulated -in the course of a dull journey by the traveller is vented upon the -Postmaster. If the weather is intolerable, the road wretched, the -driver obstinate, or the horses intractable--the Postmaster is to -blame. Entering his humble abode, the traveller looks upon him as his -enemy, and the Postmaster is lucky if he gets rid of his uninvited -guest soon. But should there happen to be no horses! Heavens! what -abuse, what threats are showered upon his head! Through rain and mud -he is obliged to seek them, so that during a storm, or in the winter -frosts, he is often glad to take refuge in the cold passage in order -to snatch a few moments of repose and to escape from the shrieking and -pushing of irritated guests. - -If a general arrives, the trembling Postmaster supplies him with -the two last remaining _troiki_ (team of three horses abreast), of -which one _troika_ ought, perhaps, to have been reserved for the -diligence. The general drives on without even a word of thanks. Five -minutes later the Postmaster hears--a bell! and the guard throws down -his travelling certificate on the table before him! Let us realize -all this, and, instead of anger, we shall feel sincere pity for the -Postmaster. A few words more. In the course of twenty years I have -travelled all over Russia, and know nearly all the mail routes. I have -made the acquaintance of several generations of drivers. There are few -postmasters whom I do not know personally, and few with whom I have -not had dealings. My curious collection of travelling experiences I -hope shortly to publish. At present I will only say that, as a class, -the Postmaster is presented to the public in a false light. This -much-libelled personage is generally a peaceful, obliging, sociable, -modest man, and not too fond of money. From his conversation (which -the travelling gentry very wrongly despise) much interesting and -instructive information may be acquired. As far as I am concerned, I -profess that I prefer his talk to that of some _tchinovnik_ (official) -of the 6th class, travelling for the Government. - -It may easily be guessed that I have some friends among the honourable -class of postmasters. Indeed, the memory of one of them is very dear -to me. Circumstances at one time brought us together, and it is of him -that I now intend to tell my dear readers. - -In the May of 1816 I chanced to be passing through the Government of -----, along a road now no longer existing. I held a small rank, and -was travelling with relays of three horses while paying only for two. -Consequently the Postmaster stood upon no ceremony with me, but I -had often to take from him by force what I considered to be mine by -right. Being young and passionate, I was indignant at the meanness and, -cowardice of the Postmaster when he handed over the _troika_ prepared -for me to some official gentleman of higher rank. - -It also took me a long time to get over the offence, when a servant, -fond of making distinctions, missed me when waiting at the governor's -table. Now the one and the other appear to me to be quite in the -natural course of things. Indeed, what would become of us, if, instead -of the convenient rule that rank gives precedence to rank, the rule -were to be reversed, and mind made to give precedence to mind? What -disputes would arise! Besides, to whom would the attendants first hand -the dishes? But to return to my story. - -The day was hot. About three versts from the station it began to spit, -and a minute afterwards there was a pouring rain, and I was soon -drenched to the skin. Arriving at the station, my first care was to -change my clothes, and then I asked for a cup of tea. - -"Hi! Dunia!" called out the Postmaster, "Prepare the _samovar_ and -fetch some cream." - -In obedience to this command, a girl of fourteen appeared from behind -the partition, and ran out into the passage. I was struck by her beauty. - -"Is that your daughter?" I inquired of the Postmaster. - -"Yes," he answered, with a look of gratified pride, "and such a good, -clever girl, just like her late mother." Then, while he took note of my -travelling certificate, I occupied the time in examining the pictures -which decorated the walls of his humble abode. They were illustrations -of the story of the Prodigal Son. In the firsts a venerable old man -in a skull cap and dressing gown, is wishing good-bye to the restless -youth who naturally receives his blessing and a bag of money. In -another, the dissipated life of the young man is painted in glaring -colours; he is sitting at a table surrounded by false friends and -shameless women. In the next picture, the ruined youth in his shirt -sleeves and a three-corned hat, is taking care of some swine while -sharing their food. His face expresses deep sorrow and contrition. -Finally, there was the representation of his return to his father. -The kind old man, in the same cap and dressing gown, runs out to meet -him; the prodigal son falls on his knees before him; in the distance, -the cook is killing the fatted calf, and the eldest son is asking the -servants the reason of all this rejoicing. At the foot of each picture -I read some appropriate German verses. I remember them all distinctly, -as well as some pots of balsams, the bed with the speckled curtains, -and many other characteristic surroundings. I can see the stationmaster -at this moment; a man about fifty years of age, fresh and strong, in a -long green coat, with three medals on faded ribbons. - -I had scarcely time to settle with my old driver when Dunia returned -with the _samovar_. The little coquette saw at a second glance the -impression she had produced upon me. She lowered her large, blue eyes. -I spoke to her, and she replied confidently, like a girl accustomed to -society. I offered a glass of punch to her father, to Dunia I handed a -cup of tea. Then we all three fell into easy conversation, as if we had -known each other all our lives. - -The horses had been waiting a long while, but I was loth to part from -the Postmaster and his daughter. At last I took leave of them, the -father wishing me a pleasant journey, while the daughter saw me to the -_telega_. In the corridor I stopped and asked permission to kiss her. -Dunia consented. I can remember a great many kisses since then, but -none which left such a lasting, such a delightful impression. - -Several years passed, when circumstances brought me back to the same -tract, to the very same places. I recollected the old Postmasters -daughter, and rejoiced at the prospect of seeing her again. - -"But," I thought, "perhaps the old Postmaster has been changed, and -Dunia may be already married." The idea that one or the other might -be dead also passed through my mind, and I approached the station of ----- with sad presentiments. The horses drew up at the small station -house. I entered the waiting-room, and instantly recognised the -pictures representing the story of the Prodigal Son. The table and the -bed stood in their old places, but the flowers on the window sills had -disappeared, while all the surroundings showed neglect and decay. - -The Postmaster was asleep under his great-coat, but my arrival awoke -him and he rose. It was certainly Simeon Virin, but how aged! While he -was preparing to make a copy of my travelling certificate, I looked at -his grey hairs, and the deep wrinkles in his long, unshaven face, his -bent back, and I was amazed to see how three or four years had managed -to change a strong, middle-aged man into a frail, old one. - -"Do you recognise me?" I asked him, "we are old friends." - -"May be," he replied, gloomily, "this is a highway, and many travellers -have passed through here." - -"Is your Dunia well?" I added. The old man frowned. - -"Heaven knows," he answered. - -"Apparently, she is married," I said. - -The old man pretended not to hear my question, and in a low voice went -on reading my travelling certificate. I ceased my inquiries and ordered -hot water. - -My curiosity was becoming painful, and I hoped that the punch would -loosen the tongue of my old friend. I was not mistaken; the old man -did not refuse the proffered tumbler. I noticed that the rum dispelled -his gloom. At the second glass he became talkative, remembered, or at -any rate looked as if he remembered, me, and I heard the story, which -at the time interested me and even affected me much. - -"So you knew my Dunia?" he began. "But, then, who did not? Oh, Dunia, -Dunia! What a beautiful girl you were! You were admired and praised -by every traveller. No one had a word to say against her. The ladies -gave her presents--one a handkerchief, another a pair of earrings. The -gentlemen stopped on purpose, as if to dine or to take supper, but -really only to take a longer look at her. However rough a man might be, -he became subdued in her presence and spoke graciously to me. Will you -believe me, sir? Couriers and special messengers would talk to her for -half-an-hour at the time. She was the support of the house. She kept -everything in order, did everything and looked after everything. While -I, the old fool that I was, could not see enough of her, or pet her -sufficiently. How I loved her! How I indulged my child! Surely her life -was a happy one? But, no! fate is not to be avoided." - -Then he began to tell me his sorrow in detail. Three years before, -one winter evening, while the Postmaster was ruling a new book, his -daughter in the next partition was busy making herself a dress, when -a _troika_ drove up and a traveller, wearing a Circassian hat and a -long military overcoat, and muffled in a shawl, entered the room and -demanded horses. - -The horses were all out. Hearing this, the traveller had raised his -voice and his whip, when Dunia, accustomed to such scenes, rushed out -from behind the partition and inquired pleasantly whether he would not -like something to eat? Her appearance produced the usual effect. The -passenger's rage subsided, he agreed to wait for horses, and ordered -some supper. He took off his wet hat, unloosed the shawl, and divested -himself of his long overcoat. - -The traveller was a tall, young hussar with a small black moustache. -He settled down comfortably at the Postmaster's and began a lively, -conversation with him and his daughter. Supper was served. Meanwhile, -the horses returned and the Postmaster ordered them instantly, without -being fed, to be harnessed to the traveller's _kibitka._ But returning -to the room, he found the young man senseless on the bench where he lay -in a faint. Such a headache had attacked him that it was impossible for -him to continue his journey. What was to be done? The Postmaster gave -up his own bed to him; and it was arranged that if the patient was not -better the next morning to send to C------ for the doctor. - -Next day the hussar was worse. His servant rode to the town to fetch -the doctor. Dunia bound up his head with a handkerchief moistened -in vinegar, and sat down with her needlework by his bedside. In the -presence of the Postmaster the invalid groaned and scarcely said a word. - -Nevertheless, he drank two cups of coffee and, still groaning, ordered -a good dinner. Dunia never left him. Every time he asked for a drink -Dunia handed him the jug of lemonade prepared by herself. After -moistening his lips, the patient each time he returned the jug gave her -hand a gentle pressure in token of gratitude. - -Towards dinner time the doctor arrived. He felt the patient's pulse, -spoke to him in German and in Russian, declared that all he required -was rest, and said that in a couple of days he would be able to start -on his journey. The hussar handed him twenty-five rubles for his visit, -and gave him an invitation to dinner, which the doctor accepted. They -both ate with a good appetite, and drank a bottle of wine between them. -Then, very pleased with one another, they separated. - -Another day passed, and the hussar had quite recovered. He became very -lively, incessantly joking, first with Dunia, then with the Postmaster, -whistling tunes, conversing with the passengers, copying their -travelling certificates into the station book, and so ingratiating -himself that on the third day the good Postmaster regretted parting -with his dear lodger. - -It was Sunday, and Dunia was getting ready to attend mass. The hussar's -_kibitka_ was at the door. He took leave of the Postmaster, after -recompensing him handsomely for his board and lodging, wished Dunia -good-bye, and proposed to drop her at the church, which was situated at -the other end of the village. Dunia hesitated. - -"What are you afraid of?" asked her father. "His nobility is not a -wolf. He won't eat you. Drive with him as far as the church." - -Dunia got into the carriage by the side of the hussar. The servant -jumped on the coach box, the coachman gave a whistle, and the horses -went off at a gallop. - -The poor Postmaster could not understand how he came to allow his Dunia -to drive off with the hussar; how he could have been so blind, and what -had become of his senses. Before half-an-hour had passed his heart -misgave him. It ached, and he became so uneasy that he could bear the -situation no longer, and started for the church himself. Approaching -the church, he saw that the people were already dispersing. But Dunia -was neither in the churchyard nor at the entrance. He hurried into -the church; the priest was just leaving the altar, the clerk was -extinguishing the tapers, two old women were still praying in a corner; -but Dunia was nowhere to be seen. The poor father could scarcely summon -courage to ask the clerk if she had been to mass. The clerk replied -that she had not. The Postmaster returned home neither dead nor alive. -He had only one hope left; that Dunia in the flightiness of her youth -had, perhaps, resolved to drive as far as the next station, where her -godmother lived. In patient agitation he awaited the return of the -_troika_ with which he had allowed her to drive off, but the driver did -not come back. At last, towards night, he arrived alone and tipsy, with -the fatal news that Dunia had gone on with the hussar. - -The old man succumbed to his misfortune, and took to his bed, the same -bed where, the day before, the young impostor had lain. Recalling all -the circumstances, the Postmaster understood now that the hussar's -illness had been shammed. The poor fellow sickened with severe fever, -he was removed to C------, and in his place another man was temporarily -appointed. The same doctor who had visited the hussar attended him. He -assured the Postmaster that the young man had been perfectly well, that -he had from the first had suspicions of his evil intentions, but that -he had kept silent for fear of his whip. - -Whether the German doctor spoke the truth, or was anxious only to prove -his great penetration, his assurance brought no consolation to the poor -patient. As soon as he was beginning to recover from his illness, the -old Postmaster asked his superior postmaster of the town of C------ for -two months' leave of absence, and without saying a word to anyone, he -started off on foot to look for his daughter. - -From the station book he discovered that Captain Minsky had left -Smolensk for Petersburg. The coachman who drove him said that Dunia had -wept all the way, though she seemed to be going of her own free will. - -"Perhaps," thought the station master, "I shall bring back my strayed -lamb." With this idea he reached St. Petersburg, and stopped with the -Ismailovsky regiment, in the quarters of a non-commissioned officer, -his old comrade in arms. Beginning his search he soon found out that -Captain Minsky was in Petersburg, living at Demuth's Hotel. The -Postmaster determined to see him. - -Early in the morning he went to Minsky's antechamber, and asked to -have his nobility informed that an old soldier wished to see him. The -military attendant, in the act of cleaning a boot on a boot-tree, -informed him that his master was asleep, and never received anyone -before eleven o'clock. The Postmaster left to return at the appointed -time. Minsky came out to him in his dressing gown and red skull cap. - -"Well, my friend, what do you want?" he inquired. - -The old maids heart boiled, tears started to his eyes, and in a -trembling voice he could only say, "Your nobility; be divinely -merciful!" - -Minsky glanced quickly at him, flushed, and seizing him by the hand, -led him into his study and locked the door. - -"Your nobility!" continued the old man, "what has fallen from the cart -is lost; give me back, at any rate, my Dunia. Let her go. Do not ruin -her entirely." - -"What is done cannot be undone," replied the young man, in extreme -confusion. "I am guilty before you, and ready to ask your pardon. But -do not imagine that I could neglect Dunia. She shall be happy, I give -you my word of honour. Why do you want her? She loves me; she has -forsaken her former existence. Neither you nor she can forget what has -happened." Then, pushing something up his sleeve, he opened the door, -and the Postmaster found himself, he knew not how, in the street. - -He stood long motionless, at last catching sight of a roll of papers -inside his cuff, he pulled them out and unrolled several crumpled-up -fifty ruble notes. His eyes again filled with tears, tears of -indignation! He crushed the notes into a ball, threw them on the -ground, and, stamping on them with his heel, walked away. After a few -steps he stopped, reflected a moment, and turned back. - -But the notes were gone. A well-dressed young man, who had observed -him, ran towards an _isvoshtchick_, got in hurriedly, and called to the -driver to be "off." - -The Postmaster did not pursue him. He had resolved to return home to -his post-house; but before doing so he wished to see his poor Dunia -once more. With this view, a couple of days afterwards he returned to -Minsky's lodgings. But the military servant told him roughly that his -master received nobody, pushed him out of the antechamber, and slammed -the door in his face. The Postmaster stood and stood, and at last went -away. - -That same day, in the evening, he was walking along the Leteinaia, -having been to service at the Church of the All Saints, when a smart -_drojki_ flew past him, and in it the Postmaster recognised Minsky. -The _drojki_ stopped in front of a three-storeyed house at the very -entrance, and the hussar ran up the steps. A happy thought occurred to -the Postmaster. He retraced his steps. - -"Whose horses are these?" he inquired of the coachman. "Don't they -belong to Minsky?" - -"Exactly so," replied the coachman. "Why do you ask?" - -"Why! your master told me to deliver a note for him to his Dunia, and I -have forgotten where his Dunia lives." - -"She lives here on the second floor; but you are too late, my friend, -with your note; he is there himself now." - -"No matter," answered the Postmaster, who had an undefinable sensation -at his heart. "Thanks for your information; I shall be able to manage -my business." With these words he ascended the steps. - -The door was locked; he rang. There were several seconds of painful -delay. Then the key jingled, and the door opened. - -"Does Avdotia Simeonovna live here?" he inquired. - -"She does," replied the young maid-servant, "What do you want with her?" - -The Postmaster did not reply, but walked on. - -"You must not, must not," she called after him; "Avdotia Simeonovna has -visitors." But the Postmaster, without listening, went on. The first -two rooms were dark. In the third there was a light. He approached the -open door and stopped. In the room, which was beautifully furnished, -sat Minsky in deep thought. Dunia, dressed in all the splendour of -the latest fashion, sat on the arm of his easy chair, like a rider -on an English side saddle. She was looking tenderly at Minsky, while -twisting his black locks round her glittering fingers. Poor Postmaster! -His daughter had never before seemed so beautiful to him. In spite of -himself, he stood admiring her. - -"Who is there?" she asked, without raising her head. - -He was silent. - -Receiving no reply Dunia looked up, and with a cry she fell on the -carpet. - -Minsky, in alarm, rushed to pick her up, when suddenly seeing the old -Postmaster in the doorway, he left Dunia and approached him, trembling -with rage. - -"What do you want?" he inquired, clenching his teeth. "Why do you steal -after me everywhere, like a burglar? Or do you want to murder me? -Begone!" and with a strong hand he seized the old man by the scruff of -the neck and pushed him down the stairs. - -The old man went back to his rooms. His friend advised him to take -proceedings, but the Postmaster reflected, waved his hand, and decided -to give the matter up. Two days afterwards he left Petersburg for his -station and resumed his duties. - -"This is the third year," he concluded, "that I am living without my -Dunia; and I have had no tidings whatever of her. Whether she is alive -or not God knows. Many tilings happen. She is not the first, nor the -last, whom a wandering blackguard has _enticed_ away, kept for a time, -and then dropped. There are many such young fools in Petersburg to-day, -in satins and velvets, and to-morrow you see them sweeping the streets -in the company of drunkards in rags. When I think sometimes that Dunia, -too, may end in the same way, then, in spite of myself, I sin, and wish -her in her grave." - -Such was the story of my friend, the old Postmaster, the story more -than once interrupted by tears, which he wiped away picturesquely -with the flap of his coat like the faithful Terentieff in Dmitrieff's -beautiful ballad. The tears were partly caused by punch, of which he -had consumed five tumblers in the course of his narrative. But whatever -their origin, I was deeply affected by them. After parting with him, it -was long before I could forget the old Postmaster, and I thought long -of poor Dunia. - -Lately, again passing through the small place of ------, I remembered -my friend. I heard that the station over which he ruled had been done -away with. To my inquiry, "Is the Postmaster alive?" no one could give -a satisfactory answer. Having resolved to pay a visit to the familiar -place, I hired horses of my own, and started for the village of N----. - -It was autumn. Grey clouds covered the sky; a cold wind blew from the -close reaped fields, carrying with it the brown and yellow leaves -of the trees which it met. I arrived in the village at sunset, and -stopped at the station house. In the passage (where once Dunia had -kissed me) a stout woman met me; and to my inquiries, replied that the -old Postmaster had died about a year before; that a brewer occupied -his house; and that she was the wife of that brewer. I regretted my -fruitless journey, and my seven roubles of useless expense. - -"Of what did he die?" I asked the brewer's wife. - -"Of drink," she answered. - -"And where is he buried?" - -"Beyond the village, by the side of his late wife." - -"Could someone take me to his grave?" - -"Certainly! Hi, Vanka! cease playing with the cat and take this -gentleman to the cemetery, and show him the Postmaster's grave." - -At these words, a ragged boy, with red hair and a squint, ran towards -me to lead the way. - -"Did you know the poor man?" I asked him, on the road. - -"How should I not know him? He taught me to make whistles. When (may -he be in heaven!) we met him coming from the tavern, _we_ used to run -after him calling, 'Daddy! daddy! some nuts,' and he gave us nuts. He -idled most of his time away with, us." - -"And do the travellers ever speak of him?" - -"There are few travellers now-a-days, unless the assize judge turns up; -and he is too busy to think of the dead. But a lady, passing through -last summer, did ask after the old Postmaster, and she went to his -grave." - -"What was the ladylike?" I inquired curiously. - -"A beautiful lady," answered the boy. "She travelled in a coach with -six horses, three beautiful little children, a nurse, and a little -black dog; and when she heard that the old Postmaster was dead, she -wept, and told the children to keep quiet while she went to the -cemetery. I offered to show her the way, but the lady said, 'I know -the way,' and she gave me a silver _piatak_ (twopence) ... such a kind -lady!" - -We reached the cemetery. It was a bare place unenclosed, marked with -wooden crosses and unshaded by a single tree. Never before had I seen -such a melancholy cemetery. - -"Here is the grave of the old Postmaster," said the boy to me, as he -pointed to a heap of sand into which had been stuck a black cross with -a brass _icon_ (image). - -"Did the lady come here?" I asked. - -"She did," replied Vanka. "I saw her from a distance. She lay down -here, and remained lying down for a long while. Then she went into the -village and saw the priest. She gave him some money and drove off. To -me she gave a silver _piatak._ She was a splendid lady!" - -And I also gave the boy a silver _piatak,_ regretting neither the -journey nor the seven roubles that it had cost me. - - - - -THE LADY RUSTIC. - - -In one of our distant provinces was the estate of Ivan Petrovitch -Berestoff. As a youth he served in the guards, but having left the -army early in 1797 he retired to his country seat and there remained. -He married a wife from among the poor nobility, and when she died in -childbed he happened to be detained on farming business in one of his -distant fields. His daily occupations soon brought him consolation. He -built a house on his own plan, set up his own cloth factory, became his -own auditor and accountant, and began to think himself the cleverest -fellow in the whole district. The neighbours who used to come to him -upon a visit and bring their families and dogs took good care not to -contradict him. His work-a-day dress was a short coat of velveteen; -on holidays he wore a frock-coat of cloth from his own factory. His -accounts took most of his time, and he read nothing but the _Senatorial -News_. On the whole, though he was considered proud, he was not -disliked. The only person who could never get on with him was his -nearest neighbour, Grigori Ivanovitch Muromsky. A true Russian _barin,_ -he had squandered in Moscow a large part of his estate, and having lost -his wife as well as his money he had retired to his sole remaining -property, and there continued his extragavance but in a different way. -He set up an English garden on which he spent nearly all the income he -had left. His grooms wore English liveries. An English governess taught -his daughter. He farmed his land upon the English system. But foreign -farming grows no Russian corn. - -So, in spite of his retirement, the income of Grigori Ivanovitch did -not increase. Even in the country he had a faculty for making new -debts. But he was no fool, people said, for was he not the first -landowner in all that province to mortgage his property to the -government--a process then generally believed to be one of great -complexity and risk? Among his detractors Berestoff, a thorough hater -of innovation, was the most severe. In speaking of his neighbour's -Anglo-mania he could scarcely keep his feelings under control, and -missed no opportunity for criticism. To some compliment from a visitor -to his estate he would answer, with a knowing smile: - -"Yes, my farming is not like that of Grigori Ivanovitch. I can't afford -to ruin my land on the English system, but I am satisfied to escape -starvation on the Russian." - -Obliging neighbours reported these and other jokes to Grigori, with -additions and commentaries of their own. The Anglo-maniac was as -irritable as a journalist under this criticism, and wrathfully referred -to his critic as a bumpkin and a bear. - -Relations were thus strained when Berestoff's son came home. Having -finished his university career, he wanted to go into the army; but his -father objected. For the civil service young Berestoff had no taste. -Neither would yield, so young Alexis took up the life of a country -gentleman, and to be ready for emergencies cultivated a moustache. He -was really a handsome fellow, and it would indeed have been a pity -never to pinch his fine figure into a military uniform, and instead -of displaying his broad shoulders on horseback to round them over an -office desk. Ever foremost in the hunting-field, and a straight rider, -it was quite clear, declared the neighbours, that he could never make -a good official. The shy young ladies glanced and the bold stared at -him in admiration; but he took no notice of them, and each could only -attribute his indifference to some prior attachment. In fact, there was -in private circulation, copied from an envelope in his handwriting, -this address: - - A. N. P., - Care of Akulina Petrovna Kurotchkina, - Opposite Alexeieff Monastery. - -Those readers who have not seen our country life can hardly realize the -charm of these provincial girls. Breathing pure air under the shadow -of their apple trees, their only knowledge of the world is drawn from -books. In solitude and unrestrained, their feelings and their passions -develop early to a degree unknown to the busier beauties of our towns. -For them the tinkling of a bell is an event, a drive into the nearest -town an epoch, and a chance visit a long, sometimes an everlasting -remembrance. At their oddities he may laugh who will, but superficial -sneers cannot impair their real merits--their individuality, which, so -says Jean Paul, is a necessary element of greatness. The women in large -towns may be better educated, but the levelling influence of the world -soon makes all women as much alike as their own head-dresses. - -Let not this be regarded as condemnation. Still as an ancient writer -says _nota nostra manet._ - -It may be imagined what an impression Alexis made on our country -misses. He was the first gloomy and disenchanted hero they had ever -beheld; the first who ever spoke to them of vanished joys and blighted -past. Besides, he wore a black ring with a death's head on it. All this -was quite a new thing in that province, and the young ladies all went -crazy. - -But she in whose thoughts he dwelt most deeply was Lisa, or, as the old -Anglo-maniac called her, Betty, the daughter of Grigori Ivanovitch. -Their fathers did not visit, so she had never seen Alexis, who was -the sole topic of conversation among her young neighbours. She was -just seventeen, with dark eyes lighting up her pretty face. An only, -and consequently a spoilt child, full of life and mischief, she was -the delight of her father, and the distraction of her governess, Miss -Jackson, a prim spinster in the forties, who powdered her face and -blackened her eyebrows, read Pamela twice a year, drew a salary of -2,000 rubles, and was nearly bored to death in barbarous Russia. - -Lisa's maid Nastia was older, but quite as flighty as her mistress, who -was very fond of her, and had her as confidante in all her secrets and -as fellow-conspirator in her mischief. - -In fact, no leading lady played half such an important part in French -tragedy as was played by Nastia in the village. - -Said Nastia, while dressing her young lady: - -"May I go to-day and visit a friend?" - -"Yes. Where?" - -"To the Berestoff's. It is the cook's namesday. He called yesterday to -ask us to dinner." - -"Then," said Lisa, "the masters quarrel and the servants entertain one -another." - -"And what does that matter to us?" said Nastia. "I belong to you and -not to your father. You have not quarrelled with young Berestoff yet. -Let the old people fight if they please." - -"Nastia! try and see Alexei Berestoff. Come back and tell me all about -him." - -Nastia promised; Lisa spent the whole day impatiently waiting for her. -In the evening she returned. - -"Well, Lisaveta Grigorievna!" she said, as she entered the room. - -"I have seen young Berestoff. I had a good look at him. We spent the -whole day together." - -"How so? tell me all about it." - -"Certainly? We started, I and Anissia----" - -"Yes, yes, I know! What then?" - -"I would rather tell you in proper order. We were just in time for -dinner; the room was quite full. There were the Zaharievskys, the -steward's wife and daughters, the Shlupinskys----" - -"Yes, yes! And Berestoff?" - -"Wait a bit. We sat down to dinner. The steward's wife had the seat of -honour; I sat next to her, and her daughters were huffy; but what do I -care!" - -"Oh, Nastia! How tiresome you are with these everlasting details!" - -"How impatient you are! Well, then we rose from table--we had been -sitting for about three hours and it was a splendid dinner-party, -blue, red and striped creams--then we went into the garden to play at -kiss-in-the-ring when the young gentleman appeared." - -"Well, is it true? Is he so handsome?" - -"Wonderfully handsome! I may say beautiful. Tall, stately, with a -lovely colour." - -"Really! I thought his face was pale. Well, how did he strike you--Was -he melancholy and thoughtful?" - -"Oh, no! I never saw such a mad fellow. He took it into his head to -join us at kiss-in-the-ring." "He played at kiss-in-the-ring! It is -impossible." - -"No, it's very possible; and what more do you think? When he caught any -one he kissed her." "Of course you may tell lies if you like, Nastia." - -"As you please, miss, only I am not lying. I could scarcely get away -from him. Indeed he spent the whole day with us." - -"Why do people say then that he is in love and looks at nobody?" - -"I am sure I don't know, miss. He looked too much at me and Tania too, -the steward's daughter, and at Pasha too. In fact, he neglected nobody. -He is such a wild fellow!" - -"This is surprising; and what do the servants say about him?" - -"They say he is a splendid gentleman--so kind, so lively! He has only -one fault: he is too fond of the girls. But I don't think that is such -a great fault. He will get steadier in time." - -"How I should like to see him," said Lisa, with a sigh. - -"And why can't you? Tugilovo is only a mile off. Take a walk in that -direction, or a ride, and you are sure to meet him. He shoulders his -gun and goes shooting every morning." - -"No, it would never do. He would think I was running after him. -Besides, our fathers have quarrelled, so he and I could hardly set up -a friendship. Oh, Nastia! I know what I'll do. I will dress up like a -peasant." - -"That will do. Put on a coarse chemise and a _sarafan_, and set out -boldly for Tugilovo. Berestoff will never miss you I promise you." - -"I can talk like a peasant splendidly. Oh, Nastia, dear Nastia, what -a happy thought!" and Lisa went to bed resolved to carry out her -plan. Next day she made her preparations. She went to the market for -some coarse linen, some dark blue stuff, and some brass buttons, and -out of these Nastia and she cut a chemise and a _sarafan._ All the -maid-servants were set down to sew, and by evening everything was -ready. - -As she tried on her new costume before the glass, Lisa said to herself -that she had never looked so nice. Then she began to rehearse her -meeting with Alexis. First she gave him a low bow as she passed along, -then she continued to nod her head like a mandarin. Next she addressed -him in a peasant _patois,_ simpering and shyly hiding her face behind -her sleeve. Nastia gave the performance her full approval. But there -was one difficulty. She tried to cross the yard barefooted, but the -grass stalks pricked her tender feet and the gravel caused intolerable -pain. Nastia again came to the rescue. - -She took the measure of Lisa's foot and hurried across the fields to -the herdsman Trophim, of whom she ordered a pair of bark shoes. - -The next morning before daylight Lisa awoke. The whole household was -still asleep. Nastia was at the gate waiting for the herdsman; soon -the sound of his horn drew near, and the village herd straggled past -the Manor gates. After them came Trophim, who, as he passed, handed to -Nastia a little pair of speckled bark shoes, and received a ruble. - -Lisa, who had quietly donned her peasant dress, whispered to Nastia -her last instructions about Miss Jackson; then she went through the -kitchen, out of the back door, into the open field, then she began to -run. - -Dawn was breaking, and the rows of golden clouds stood like courtiers -waiting for their monarch. The clear sky, the fresh morning air, the -dew, the breeze and singing of the birds filled Lisa's heart with -child-like joy. - -Fearing to meet with some acquaintance, she did nor walk but flew. As -she drew near the wood where lay the boundary of her father's property -she slackened her pace. It was here she was to meet Alexis. Her heart -beat violently, she knew not why. The terrors of our youthful escapades -are their chief charm. - -Lisa stepped forward into the darkness of the wood; its hollow -echoes bade her welcome. Her buoyant spirits gradually gave place to -meditation. She thought--but who shall truly tell the thoughts of sweet -seventeen in a wood, alone, at six o'clock on a spring morning? - -And as she walked in meditation under the shade of lofty trees, -suddenly a beautiful pointer began to bark at her. Lisa cried out with -fear, and at the same moment a voice exclaimed, "_Tout beau Shogar, -ici,_" and a young sportsman stepped from behind the bushes. "Don't be -afraid, my dear, he won't bite." - -Lisa had already recovered from her fright, and instantly took -advantage of the situation. - -"It's all very well, sir," she said, with assumed timidity and shyness, -_"I_ am afraid of him, he seems such a savage creature, and may fly at -me again." - -Alexis, whom the reader has already recognised, looked steadily at the -young peasant. "I will escort you, if you are afraid; will you allow me -to walk by your side?" - -"Who is to prevent you?" replied Lisa. "A freeman can do as he likes, -and the road is public!" - -"Where do you come from?" - -"From Prilutchina; I am the daughter of Yassili, the blacksmith, and I -am looking for mushrooms." She was carrying a basket suspended from her -shoulders by a cord. - -"And you, _barin_; are you from Tugilovo?" - -"Exactly, I am the young gentleman's valet" (he wished to equalize -their ranks). But Lisa looked at him and laughed. - -"Ah! you are lying," she said. "I am not a fool. I see you are the -master himself." - -"What makes you think so?" - -"Everything." - -"Still----?" - -"How can one help it. You are not dressed like a servant. You speak -differently. You even call your dog in a foreign tongue." - -Lisa charmed him more and more every moment. Accustomed to be -unceremonious with pretty country girls, he tried to kiss her, but -Lisa jumped aside, and suddenly assumed so distant and severe an air -that though it amused him he did not attempt any further familiarities. - -"If you wish to remain friends," she said, with dignity, "do not forget -yourself." - -"Who has taught you this wisdom?" asked Alexis, with a laugh. "Can -it be my little friend Nastia, your mistress's maid? So this is how -civilization spreads." - -Lisa felt she had almost betrayed herself, and said, "Do you think I -have never been up to the Manor House? I have seen and heard more than -you think. Still, chattering here with you won't get me mushrooms. You -go that way, _barin_; I'll go the other, begging your pardon;" and Lisa -made as if to depart, but Alexis held her by the hand. - -"What is your name, my dear?" - -"Akulina," she said, struggling to get her fingers free. "Let me go, -_barin,_ it is time for me to be home." - -"Well, my friend Akulina, I shall certainly call on your father, -Yassili, the blacksmith." - -"For the Lord's sake don't do that. If they knew at home I had been -talking here alone with the young _barin,_ I should catch it. My father -would beat me within an inch of my life." - - -"Well, I must see you again." - -"I will come again some other day for mushrooms." - -"When?" - -"To-morrow, if you like." - -"My dear Akulina, I would kiss you if I dared. To-morrow, then, at the -same time; that is a bargain." - -"All right." - -"You will not play me false?" - -"No." - -"Swear it." - -"By the Holy Friday, then, I will come." - -The young couple parted. Lisa ran out of the wood across the fields, -stole into the garden, and rushed headlong into the farmyard, where -Nastia was waiting for her. Then she changed her dress, answering at -random the impatient questions of her _confidante_, and went into the -dining-room to find the cloth laid and breakfast ready. Miss Jackson, -freshly powdered and Jaced, until she looked like a wine glass, was -cutting thin slices of bread and butter. Her father complimented Lisa -on her early walk. - -"There is no healthier habit," he remarked, "than to rise at daybreak." -He quoted from the English papers several cases of longevity, adding -that all centenarians had abstained from spirits, and made it a -practice to rise at daybreak winter and summer. Lisa did not prove -an attentive listener. She was repeating in her mind the details of -her morning's interview, and as she recalled Akulina's conversation -with the young sportsman her conscience smote her. In vain she assured -herself that the bounds of decorum had not been passed. This joke, she -argued, could have no evil consequences, but conscience would not be -quieted. What most disturbed her was her promise to repeat the meeting. -She half decided not to keep her word, but then Alexis, tired of -waiting, might go to seek the blacksmiths daughter in the village and -find the real Akulina--a stout, pockmarked girl--and so discover the -hoax. Alarmed at this she determined to re-enact the part of Akulina. -Alexis was enchanted. All day he thought about his new acquaintance -and at night he dreamt of her. It was scarcely dawn when he was up and -dressed. Without waiting even to load his gun he set out followed by -the faithful Shogar, and ran to the meeting place. Half an hour passed -in undeniable delay. At last he caught a glimpse of a blue _sarafan_ -among the bushes and rushed to meet dear Akulina. She smiled to see his -eagerness; but he saw traces of anxiety and melancholy on her face. He -asked her the cause, and she at last confessed. She had been flighty -and was very sorry for it. She had meant not to keep her promise, and -this meeting at any rate must be the last. She begged him not to seek -to continue an acquaintance which could have no good end. All this, -of course, was said in peasant dialect; but the thought and feeling -struck Alexis as unusual in a peasant. In eloquent words he urged -her to abandon this cruel resolution. She should have no reason for -repentance; he would obey her in everything, if only she would not rob -him of his one happiness and let him see her alone three times or even -only twice a week. He spoke with passion, and at the moment he was -really in love. Lisa listened to him in silence. - -"Promise," she said, "to seek no other meetings with me but those which -I myself appoint." - -He was about to swear by the Holy Friday when she stopped him with a -smile. - -"I do not want you to swear. Your word is enough." - -Then together they wandered talking in the wood, till Lisa said: - -"It is time." - -They parted; and Alexis was left to wonder how in two meetings a simple -rustic had gained such influence over him. There was a freshness and -novelty about it all that charmed him, and though the conditions -she imposed were irksome, the thought of breaking his promise never -even entered his mind. After all, in spite of his fatal ring and the -mysterious correspondence, Alexis was a kind and affectionate youth, -with a pure heart still capable of innocent enjoyment. Did I consult -only my own wishes I should dwell at length on the meetings of these -young people, their growing love, their mutual trust, and all they did -and all they said. But my pleasure I know would not be shared by the -majority of my readers; so for their sake I will omit them. I will -only say that in a brief two months Alexis was already madly in love, -and Lisa, though more reticent than he was, not indifferent. Happy -in the present they took little thought for the future. Visions of -indissoluble ties flitted not seldom through the minds of both. But -neither mentioned them. For Alexis, however strong his attachment to -Akulina, could not forget the social distance that was between them, -while Lisa, knowing the enmity between their fathers, dared not count -on their becoming reconciled. Besides, her vanity was stimulated by the -vague romantic hope of at last seeing the lord of Tugilovo at the feet -of the daughter of a village blacksmith. Suddenly something happened -which came near to change the course of their true love. One of those -cold bright mornings so common in our Russian autumns Ivan Berestoff -came a-riding. For all emergencies he brought with him six pointers -and a dozen beaters. That same morning Grigori Muromsky, tempted by -the fine weather, saddled his English mare and came trotting through -his agricultural estates. Nearing the wood he came upon his neighbour -proudly seated in the saddle wearing his fur-lined overcoat. Ivan -Berestoff was waiting for the hare which the beaters were driving with -discordant noises out of the brushwood. If Muromsky could have foreseen -this meeting he would have avoided it. But finding himself suddenly -within pistol-shot there was no escape. Like a cultivated European -gentleman, Muromsky rode up to and addressed his enemy politely. -Berestoff answered with the grace of a chained bear dancing to the -order of his keeper. At this moment out shot the hare and scudded -across the field. Berestoff and his groom shouted to loose the dogs, -and started after them full speed. Muromsky's mare took fright and -bolted. Her rider, who often boasted of his horsemanship, gave her -her head and chuckled inwardly over this opportunity of escaping a -disagreeable companion. But the mare coming at a gallop to an unseen -ditch swerved. Muromsky lost his seat, fell rather heavily on the -frozen ground, and lay there cursing the animal, which, sobered by the -loss of her master, stopped at once. Berestoff galloped to the rescue, -asking if Muromsky was hurt. Meanwhile the groom led up the culprit by -the bridle. Berestoff helped Muromsky into the saddle and then invited -him to his house. Peeling himself under an obligation Muromsky could -not refuse, and so Berestoff returned in glory, having killed the hare -and bringing home with him his adversary wounded and almost a prisoner -of war. - -At breakfast the neighbours fell into rather friendly conversation; -Muromsky asked Berestoff to lend him a droshky, confessing that his -fall made it too painful for him to ride back. Berestoff accompanied -him to the outer gate, and before the leavetaking was over Muromsky -Pad obtained from him a promise to come and bring Alexis to a friendly -dinner at Prelutchina next day. So this old enmity which seemed before -so deeply rooted was on the point of ending because the little mare had -taken fright. - -Lisa ran to meet Per father on his return. - -"What has happened, papa?" she asked in astonishment. "Why are you -limping? Where is the mare? Whose droshki is this?" - -"My dear, you will never guess;"--and then he told Per. - -Lisa could not believe Per ears. Before she Pad time to collect herself -she heard that to-morrow both the Berestoffs would come to dinner. - -"What do you say?" she exclaimed, turning pale. "The Berestoffs, father -and son! Dine with us to-morrow! No, papa, you can do as you please, I -certainly do not appear." - -"Why? Are you mad? Since when have you become so shy? Have you imbibed -hereditary hatred like a heroine of romance? Come, don't be afoot." - -"No, papa, nothing on earth shall induce me to meet the Berestoffs." - -Her father shrugged his shoulders, and left off arguing. He knew he -could not prevail with her by opposition, so he went to bed after his -memorable ride. Lisa, too, went to her room, and summoned Nastia. -Long did they discuss the coming visit. What will Alexis think on -recognising in the cultivated young lady his Akulina? What opinion will -he form as to her behaviour and her sense? On the other hand, Lisa was -very curious to see how such an unexpected meeting would affect him. -Then an idea struck her. She told it to Nastia, and with rejoicing they -determined to carry it into effect. - -Next morning at breakfast Muromsky asked his daughter whether she still -meant to hide from the Berestoffs. - -"Papa," she answered, "I will receive them if you wish it, on one -condition. However I may appear before them, whatever I may do, you -must promise me not to be angry, and you must show no surprise or -disapproval." - -"At your tricks again!" exclaimed Muromsky, laughing. "Well, well, I -consent; do as you please, my black-eyed mischief." With these words -he kissed her forehead, and Lisa ran off to make her preparations. - -Punctually at two, six horses, drawing the home-made carriage, drove -into the courtyard, and skirted the circle of green turf that formed -its centre. - -Old Berestoff, helped by two of Muromsky's servants in livery, mounted -the steps. His son followed immediately on horseback, and the two -together entered the dining-room, where the table was already laid. - -Muromsky gave his guests a cordial welcome, and proposing a tour of -inspection of the garden and live stock before dinner, led them along -his well-swept gravel paths. - -Old Berestoff secretly deplored the time and trouble wasted on such a -useless whim as this Anglo-mania, but politeness forbade him to express -his feelings. - -His son shared neither the disapproval of the careful farmer, nor the -enthusiasm of the complacent Anglo-maniac. He impatiently awaited the -appearance of his hosts daughter, of whom he had often heard; for, -though his heart as we know was no longer free, a young and unknown -beauty might still claim his interest. - -When they had come back and were all seated in the drawing-room, -the old men talked over bygone days, re-telling the stories of the -mess-room, while Alexis considered what attitude he should assume -towards Lisa. He decided upon a cold preoccupation as most suitable, -and arranged accordingly. - -The door opened, he turned his head round with indifference--with such -proud indifference--that the heart of the most hardened coquette must -have quivered. Unfortunately there came in not Lisa but elderly Miss -Jackson, whitened, laced in, with downcast eyes and her little curtsey, -and Alexis' magnificent military movement failed. Before he could -reassemble his scattered forces the door opened again and this time -entered Lisa. All rose, Muromsky began the introductions, but suddenly -stopped and bit his lip. Lisa, his dark Lisa, was painted white up -to her ears, and pencilled worse than Miss Jackson herself. She wore -false fair ringlets, puffed out like a Louis XIV. wig; her sleeves _à -l'imbécille_ extended like the hoops of Madame de Pompadour. Her figure -was laced in like a letter X, and all those of her mother's diamonds -which had escaped the pawnbroker sparkled on her fingers, neck, and -ears. Alexis could not discover in this ridiculous young lady his -Akulina. His father kissed her hand, and he, much to his annoyance, -had to do the same. As he touched her little white fingers they seemed -to tremble. He noticed, too, a tiny foot intentionally displayed and -shod in the most coquettish of shoes. This reconciled him a little to -the rest of her attire. The white paint and black pencilling--to tell -the truth--in his simplicity he did not notice at first, nor indeed -afterwards. - -Grigori Muromsky, remembering his promise, tried not to show surprise; -for the rest, he was so much amused at his daughter's mischief, that -he could scarcely keep his countenance. For the prim Englishwoman, -however, it was no laughing matter. She guessed that the white and -black paint had been abstracted from her drawer, and a red patch of -indignation shone through the artificial whiteness of her face. Flaming -glances shot from her eyes at the young rogue, who, reserving all -explanation for the future, pretended not to notice them. They sat down -to table, Alexis continuing his performance as an absent-minded pensive -man. Lisa was all affectation. She minced her words, drawled, and would -speak only in French. Her father glanced at her from time to time, -unable to divine her object, but he thought it all a great joke. The -Englishwoman fumed, but said nothing. Ivan Berestoff alone felt at his -ease. He ate for two, drank his fill, and as the meal went on became -more and more friendly, and laughed louder and louder. - -At last they rose from the table. The guests departed and Muromsky gave -vent to his mirth and curiosity. - -"What made you play such tricks upon them?" he inquired. "Do you know, -Lisa, that white paint really becomes you? I do not wish to pry into -the secrets of a lady's toilet, but if I were you I should always -paint, not too much, of course, but a little." - -Lisa was delighted with her success. She kissed her father, promised -to consider his suggestion, and ran off to propitiate the enraged Miss -Jackson, whom she could scarcely prevail upon to open the door and hear -her excuses. - -Lisa was ashamed, she said, to show herself before the visitors--such a -blackamoor. She had not dared to ask; she knew dear kind Miss Jackson -would forgive her. - -Miss Jackson, persuaded that her pupil had not meant to ridicule her, -became pacified, kissed Lisa, and in token of forgiveness presented her -with a little pot of English white, which the latter, with expressions -of deep gratitude, accepted. - -Next morning, as the reader will have guessed, Lisa hastened to the -meeting in the wood. - -"You were yesterday at our master's, sir?" she began to Alexis. "What -did you think of our young lady?" - -Alexis answered that he had not observed her. - -"That is a pity." - -"Why?" - -"Because I wanted to ask you if what they say is true." - -"What do they say?" - -"That I resemble our young lady; do you think so?" - -"What nonsense, she is a deformity beside you!" - -"Oh! _barin,_ it is a sin of you to say so. Our young lady is so fair, -so elegant! How can I vie with her?" - -Alexis vowed that she was prettier than all imaginable fair young -ladies, and to appease her thoroughly, began describing her young lady -so funnily that Lisa burst into a hearty laugh. - -"Still," she said, with a sigh, "though she may be ridiculous, yet by -her side I am an illiterate fool." - -"Well, that _is_ a thing to worry yourself about. If you like I will -teach you to read at once." - -"Are you in earnest, shall I really try?" - -"If you like, my darling, we will begin at once." - -They sat down. Alexis produced a pencil and note-book, and Akulina -proved astonishingly quick in learning the alphabet. Alexis wondered at -her intelligence. At their next meeting she wished to learn to write. -The pencil at first would not obey her, but in a few minutes she could -trace the letters pretty well. - -"How wonderfully we get on, faster than by the Lancaster method." - -Indeed, at the third lesson Akulina could read words of even three -syllables, and the intelligent remarks with which she interrupted the -lessons fairly astonished Alexis. As for writing she covered a whole -page with aphorisms, taken from the story she had been reading. A week -passed and they had begun a correspondence. Their post-office was the -trunk of an old oak, and Nastia secretly played the part of postman. -Thither Alexis would bring his letters, written in a large round hand, -and there he found the letters of his beloved scrawled on coarse blue -paper. Akulina's style was evidently improving, and her mind clearly -was developing under cultivation. - -Meanwhile the new-made acquaintance between Berestoff and Muromsky -grew stronger, soon it became friendship. Muromsky often reflected -that on the death of old Berestoff his property would come to Alexis, -who would then be one of the richest landowners in that province. Why -should he not marry Lisa? Old Berestoff, on the other hand, though he -looked on his neighbour as a lunatic, did not deny that he possessed -many excellent qualities, among them a certain cleverness. Muromsky -was related to Count Pronsky, a distinguished and influential man. -The count might be very useful to Alexis, and Muromsky (so thought -Berestoff) would probably be glad to marry his daughter so well. Both -the old men pondered all this so thoroughly that at last they broached -the subject, confabulated, embraced, and severally began a plan of -campaign. Muromsky foresaw one difficulty--how to persuade his Betty to -make the better acquaintance of Alexis, whom she had never seen since -the memorable dinner. They hardly seemed to suit each other well. At -any rate Alexis had not renewed his visit to Prelutchina. Whenever old -Berestoff called Lisa made a point of retreating to her own room. - -"But," thought Muromsky, "if Alexis called every day Betty could not -help falling in love with him. That is the way to manage it. Time will -settle everything." - -Berestoff troubled himself less about his plans. That same evening -he called his son into his study, lit his pipe, and, after a short -silence, began: - -"You have not spoken about the army lately, Alexis. Has the Hussar -uniform lost its attraction for you?" - -"No, father," he replied respectfully. "I know you do not wish me to -join the Hussars. It is my duty to consult your wishes." - -"I am pleased to find you such an obedient son, still I do not wish -to force your inclinations. I will not insist upon your entering the -Civil Service at once; and in the meantime I mean to marry you." - -"To whom, father?" exclaimed his astonished son. - -"To Lisa Muromskaia; she is good enough for any one, isn't she?" - -"Father, I did not think of marrying just yet." - -"Perhaps not, but I have thought about it for you." - -"As you please, but I don't care about Lisa Muromskaia at all." - -"You will care about her afterwards. You will get used to her, and you -will learn to love her." - -"I feel I could not make her happy." - -"You need not trouble yourself about that. All you have to do is to -respect the wishes of your father." - -"I do not wish to marry, and I won't." - -"You shall marry or I will curse you; and, by Heaven, I will sell and -squander my property, and not leave you a farthing! I will give you -three days for reflection, and, in the meanwhile, do not dare to show -your face in my presence." - -Alexis knew that when his father took a thing into his head nothing -could knock it out again; but then Alexis was as obstinate as his -father. He went to his room and there reflected upon the limits of -parental authority, on Lisa Muromskaia, his father's threat to make him -a beggar, and finally he thought of Akulina. - -For the first time he clearly saw how much he loved her. The romantic -idea of marrying a peasant girl and working for a living came into his -mind; and the more he thought of it, the more he approved it. Their -meetings in the wood had been stopped of late by the wet weather. - -He wrote to Akulina in the roundest hand and the maddest style, telling -her of his impending ruin, and asking her to be his wife. He took -the letter at once to the tree trunk, dropped it in, and went much -satisfied with himself to bed. - -Next morning, firm in resolution, he started early to call on Muromsky -and explain the situation. He meant to win him over by appealing to his -generosity. - -"Is Mr. Muromsky at home?" he asked reining up his horse at the porch. - -"No, sir, Mr. Muromsky went out early this morning." - -How provoking, thought Alexis. - -"Well, is Miss Lisa at home?" - -"Yes, sir." - -And throwing the reins to the footman, Alexis leapt from his horse and -entered unannounced. - -"It will soon be over," he thought, going towards the drawing-room. -"I will explain to Miss Muromsky herself." He entered ... and was -transfixed. Lisa!... no, Akulina, dear, dark Akulina, wearing no -_sarafan_ but a white morning frock, sat by the window reading his -letter. So intent was she upon it that she did not hear him enter. -Alexis could not repress a cry of delight. Lisa started, raised her -hand, cried out, and attempted to run away. He rushed to stop her. -"Akulina! Akulina!" Lisa tried to free herself. - -"_Mais laissez moi donc, Monsieur! mais êtes vous fou?_" she repeated, -turning away. - -"Akulina! my darling Akulina!" he repeated, kissing her hand. - -Miss Jackson, who was an eye-witness of this scene, knew not what to -think. The door opened and Grigori Muromsky entered. - -"Ah!" cried he, "you seem to have settled things between you."... - -The reader will excuse me the unnecessary trouble of winding up. - - - - -KIRDJALI. - - -Kirdjali was by birth a Bulgarian. - -Kirdjali, in Turkish, means a bold fellow, a knight-errant. - -Kirdjali with his depredations brought terror upon the whole of -Moldavia. To give some idea of him I will relate one of his exploits. -One night he and the Arnout Michailaki fell together upon a Bulgarian -village. They set fire to it from both ends and went from hut to hut, -Kirdjali killing, while Michailaki carried off the plunder. Both cried, -"Kirdjali! Kirdjali!" and the whole village ran. - -When Alexander Ipsilanti proclaimed the insurrection and began raising -his army, Kirdjali brought him several of his old followers. They -knew little of the real object of the _hetairi._ But war presented an -opportunity for getting rich at the expense of the Turks, and perhaps -of the Moldavians too. - -Alexander Ipsilanti was personally brave, but he was wanting in -the qualities necessary for playing the part he had with such eager -recklessness assumed. He did not know how to manage the people under -his command. They had neither respect for him nor confidence. - -After the unfortunate battle, when the flower of Greek youth fell, -Jordaki Olimbisti advised him to retire, and himself took his place. -Ipsilanti escaped to the frontiers of Austria, whence he sent his -curse to the people whom he now stigmatised as mutineers, cowards, and -blackguards. These cowards and blackguards mostly perished within the -walls of the monastery of Seke, or on the banks of the Pruth, defending -themselves desperately against a foe ten times their number. - -Kirdjali belonged to the detachment commanded by George Cantacuzène, of -whom might be repeated what has already been said of Ipsilanti. - -On the eve of the battle near Skuliana, Cantacuzène asked permission -of the Russian authorities to enter their quarters. The band was left -without a commander. But Kirdjali, Sophianos, Cantagoni, and others had -no need of a commander. - -The battle of Skuliana seems not to have been described by any one in -all its pathetic truth. Just imagine seven hundred Arnouts, Albanians, -Greeks, Bulgarians, and every kind of rabble, with no notion of -military art, retreating within sight of fifteen thousand Turkish -cavalry. The band kept close to the banks of the Pruth, placing in -front two tiny cannons, found at Jassy, in the courtyard of the -Hospodar, and which had formerly been used for firing salutes on -festive occasions. - -The Turks would have been glad to use their cartridges, but dared not -without permission from the Russian authorities; for the shots would -have been sure to fly over to our banks. The commander of the Russian -military post (now dead), though he had been forty years in the army, -had never heard the whistle of a bullet; but he was fated to hear it -now. Several bullets buzzed passed his ears. The old man got very angry -and began to swear at Ohotsky, major of one of the infantry battalions. -The major, not knowing what to do, ran towards the river, on the other -side of which some insurgent cavalry were capering about. He shook his -finger at them, on which they turned round and galloped along, with -the whole Turkish army after them. The major who had shaken his finger -was called Hortchevsky. I don't know what became of him. The next day, -however, the Turks attacked the Arnouts. Hot daring to use cartridges -or cannon balls, they resolved, contrary to their custom, to employ -cold steel. The battle was fierce. The combatants slashed and stabbed -one another. - -The Turks were seen with lances, which, hitherto they had never -possessed, and these lances were Russian. Our Nekrassoff refugees were -fighting in their ranks. The _hetairi,_ thanks to the permission of our -Emperor, were allowed to cross the Pruth and seek the protection of our -garrison. They began to cross the river, Cantagoni and Sophianos being -the last to quit the Turkish bank; Kirdjali, wounded the day before, -was already lying in Russian quarters. Sophianos was killed. Cantagoni, -a very stout man, was wounded with a spear in his stomach. With one -hand he raised his sword, with the other he seized the enemy's spear, -pushed it deeper into himself, and by that means was able to reach his -murderer with his own sword, when they fell together. - -All was over. The Turks remained victorious, Moldavia was cleared of -insurgents. About six hundred Arnouts were scattered over Bessarabia. -Unable to obtain the means of subsistence, they still felt grateful -to Russia for her protection. They led an idle though not a dissolute -life. They could be seen in coffee-houses of half Turkish Bessarabia, -with long pipes in their mouths sipping thick coffee out of small cups. -Their figured Zouave jackets and red slippers with pointed toes were -beginning to look shabby. But they still wore their tufted scull-cap -on one side of the head; and daggers and pistols still protruded -from beneath, their broad girdles. No one complained of them. It -was impossible to imagine that these poor, peaceable fellows were -the celebrated pikemen of Moldavia, the followers of the ferocious -Kirdjali, and that he himself had been one of them. - -The Pasha governing Jassy heard of all this, and, on the basis of -treaty rights, requested the Russian authorities to deliver up the -brigand. The police made inquiries, and found that Kirdjali really was -at Kishineff. They captured him in the house of a runaway monk in the -evening, while he was at supper, sitting in the twilight with seven -comrades. - -Kirdjali was arraigned. He did not attempt to conceal the truth. He -owned he was Kirdjali. - -"But," he added, "since I crossed the Pruth, I have not touched a -hair of property that did not belong to me, nor have I cheated the -meanest gipsy. To the Turks, the Moldavians, and the Walachians I am -certainly a brigand, but to the Russians a guest. When Sophianos, after -exhausting all his cartridges, came over here, he collected buttons -from the uniforms, nails, watch-chains, and nobs from the daggers for -the final discharge, and I myself handed him twenty _beshléks_ to fire -off, leaving myself without money. God is my witness that I, Kirdjali, -lived by charity. Why then do the Russians now hand me over to my -enemies?" - -After that Kirdjali was silent, and quietly awaited his fate. It was -soon announced to him. The authorities, not thinking themselves hound -to look upon brigandage from its romantic side, and admitting the -justice of the Turkish demand, ordered Kirdjali to be given up that he -might be sent to Jassy. - -A man of brains and feeling, at that time young and unknown, but -now occupying an important post, gave me a graphic description of -Kirdjali's departure. - -"At the gates of the prison," he said, "stood a hired _karutsa._ -Perhaps you don't know what a _karutsa_ is? It is a low -basket-carriage, to which quite recently used to be harnessed six or -eight miserable screws. A Moldavian, with a moustache and a sheepskin -hat, sitting astride one of the horses, cried out and cracked his whip -every moment, and his wretched little beasts went on at a sharp trot. -If one of them began to lag, then he unharnessed it with terrific -cursing and left it on the road, not caring what became of it. On the -return journey he was sure to find them in the same place, calmly -grazing on the steppes. Frequently a traveller starting from a station -with eight horses would arrive at the next with a pair only. It was -so about fifteen years ago. Now in Russianized Bessarabia, Russian -harness and Russian _telegas_ (carts) have been adopted. - -"Such a _karutsa_ as I have described stood at the gate of the jail in -1821, towards the end of September. Jewesses with their sleeves hanging -down and with flapping slippers, Arnouts in ragged but picturesque -costumes, stately Moldavian women with black-eyed children in their -arms, surrounded the _harutsa._ The men maintained silence. The women -were excited, as if expecting something to happen. - -"The gates opened, and several police officers stepped into the street, -followed by two soldiers leading Kirdjali in chains. - -"He looked about thirty. The features of his dark face were regular and -austere. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and seemed to possess great -physical strength. He wore a variegated turban on the side of his head, -and a broad sash round his slender waist. A dolman of thick, dark blue -cloth, the wide plaits of his over-shirt falling just above the knees, -and a pair of handsome slippers completed his dress. His bearing was -calm and haughty. - -"One of the officials, a red-faced old man in a faded uniform, with -three buttons hanging loose, a pair of lead spectacles which pinched -a crimson knob doing duty for a nose, unrolled a paper, and stooping, -began to read in the Moldavian tongue. From time to time he glanced -haughtily at the handcuffed Kirdjali, to whom apparently the document -referred. Kirdjali listened attentively. The official finished his -reading, folded the paper, and called out sternly to the people, -ordering them to make way for the _karutsa_ to drive up. Then Kirdjali, -turning towards him, said a few words in Moldavian; his voice trembled, -his countenance changed, he burst into tears, and fell at the feet of -the police officer, with a clanking of his chains. The police officer, -in alarm, started back; the soldiers were going to raise Kirdjali, but -he got up of his own accord, gathered up his chains, and stepping into -the _harutsa_, cried _egaida!'_ - -"The gens d'armes got in by his side, the Moldavian cracked his whip, -and the _karutsa_ rolled away. - -"What was Kirdjali saying to you? inquired a young official of the -police officer. - -"He asked me," replied the officer, smiling, "to take care of his -wife and child, who live a short distance from Kilia, in a Bulgarian -village; he is afraid they might suffer through him. The rabble are so -ignorant!'" - -The young official's story affected me greatly. I was sorry for poor -Kirdjali. For a long while I knew nothing of his fate. Many years -afterwards I met the young official. We began talking of old times. - -"How about your friend Kirdjali?" I asked. "Do you know what became of -him?" - -"Of course I do," he replied, and he told me the following. - -After being brought to Jassy, Kirdjali was taken before the Pasha, -who condemned him to be impaled. The execution was postponed till -some feast day. Meanwhile he was put in confinement. The prisoner was -guarded by seven Turks--common people, and at the bottom of their -hearts brigands like himself. They respected him and listened with -the eagerness of true orientals to his wonderful stories. Between the -guards and their prisoner a close friendship sprang up. On one occasion -Kirdjali said to them: - -"Brothers! My hour is near. No one can escape his doom. I shall soon -part from you, and I should like to leave you something in remembrance -of me." The Turks opened their ears. - -"Brothers;" added Kirdjali, "three years back, when I was engaged in -brigandage with the late Mihailaki, we buried in the Steppes, not far -from Jassy, a kettle with some coins in it. Seemingly, neither he nor -I will ever possess that treasure. So be it; take it to yourselves and -divide it amicably." - -The Turks nearly went crazy. They began considering how they could find -the spot so vaguely indicated. They thought and thought, and at last -decided that Kirdjali must himself show them. - -Night set in. The Turks took off the fetters that weighed upon the -prisoner's feet, hound his hands with a rope, and taking him with them, -started for the Steppes. Kirdjali led them, going in a straight line -from one mound to another. They walked about for some time. At last -Kirdjali stopped close to a broad stone, measured a dozen steps to the -south, stamped, and said, "Here." - -The Turks arranged themselves for work. Four took out their daggers and -began digging the earth, while three remained on guard. Kirdjali sat -down on the stone, and looked on. - -"Well, now, shall you be long?" he inquired; "have you found it?" - -"Not yet," replied the Turks, and they worked away till the -perspiration rolled like hail from them. - -Kirdjali grew impatient. - -"What people!" he exclaimed; "they can't even dig decently. Why, I -should have found it in two minutes. Children! Untie my hands, and give -me a dagger." - -The Turks reflected, and began to consult with one another. - -"Why not?" they concluded. "We will release his hands, and give him a -dagger. What can it matter? He is only one, while we are seven." - -And the Turks unbound his bands and gave him a dagger. - -At last Kirdjali was free and armed. What must have been his -sensations. He began digging rapidly, the guard assisting. Suddenly he -thrust his dagger into one of them, leaving the blade sticking in the -man's breast; he snatched from his girdle a couple of pistols. - -The remaining six, seeing Kirdjali armed with two pistols, ran away. - -Kirdjali is now carrying on his brigandage near Jassy. Not long ago -he wrote to the Hospodar, demanding from him five thousand louis, and -threatening, in the event of the money not being paid, to set fire to -Jassy, and to reach the Hospodar himself. The five thousand louis were -forwarded to him. - -A fine fellow Kirdjali! - - - - -THE HISTORY OF THE VILLAGE OF GOROHINA. - - -Of all professions that of a man of letters has always seemed to me -most enviable. - -My parents, respectable but humble folk, had been brought up in the old -fashion. They never read anything; and beyond an alphabet (bought for -me), an almanack, and the latest letter-writer, they had no books in -the house. - -The letter-writer had long provided me with entertainment. I knew it by -heart, yet daily found in it fresh beauties; and next to General N----, -to whom my father had been _aide-de-camp,_ Kurganoff, its author, was, -in my estimation, one of the greatest men. I questioned everyone about -him; but unhappily no one could gratify my curiosity. Nobody knew him -personally. To all my questioning the reply was that Kurganoff was the -author of the latest letter-writer, but that I knew already. He was -wrapped in darkness and mystery like some ancient demi-god. At times -I doubted even his existence. His name was perhaps an invention, the -legend about him an empty myth awaiting the investigation of some -new Niebuhr. Nevertheless he dogged my imagination. I tried to give -some form to this very personage, and finally decided that he must be -like the land-judge, Koriuchkin, a little old man with a red nose and -glittering eyes. - -In 1812 I was taken to Moscow and placed at a boarding school belonging -to Karl Ivanovitch Meyer. There I stayed only some three months, -because the school broke up in anticipation of the enemy's coming. I -returned to the country. - - * * * * * - -This epoch of my life was to me so important that I shall dilate upon -it, apologizing beforehand if I trespass upon the good nature of the -reader. - -It was a dull autumn day. On reaching the station whence I must turn -off to Gorohina (that was the name of our village) I engaged horses, -and drove off by the country road. Though naturally calm, so impatient -was I to revisit the scenes where I had passed the best years of my -life, that I kept urging the driver to quicken speed with alternate -promises of vodka and threats of chastisement. How much easier it was -to belabour him than to unloose my purse. I own I struck him twice or -thrice, a thing I had never done in my life before. I don't know why, -but I had a great liking for drivers as a class. - -The driver urged his troika to a quicker pace, but to me it seemed that -public-driver-like he coaxed the horses and waved his whip but at the -same time tightened the reins. At last I caught sight of Gorohina wood, -and in ten minutes more we drove into the courtyard of the manor house. - -My heart beat violently. I looked round with unwonted emotion. For -eight years I had not seen Gorohina. The little birches which I had -seen planted near the palings had now grown into tall branching trees. -The courtyard, once adorned with three regular flower beds divided by -broad gravel paths, was now an unmown meadow, the grazing land of a red -cow. - -My britchka stopped at the front door. My servant went to open it, but -it was fastened; yet the shutters were open, and the house seemed to be -inhabited. A woman emerging from a servant's hut asked what I wanted. -Hearing the master had arrived, she ran back into the hut, and soon -I had all the inhabitants of the courtyard around me. I was deeply -touched to see the known and unknown faces, and I greeted each with a -friendly kiss. - -The boys my playmates had grown to men. The girls who used to squat -upon the floor and run with such alacrity on errands were married -women. The men wept. To the women I said unceremoniously: - -"How you have aged." And they answered sadly: - -"And you, little father, how plain you have grown." - -They led me towards the back entrance; I was met by my old -wet-nurse, by whom I was welcomed back with sobs and tears, like the -much-suffering Ulysses. They hastened to heat the bath. The cook, who -in his long holiday had grown a beard, offered to cook my dinner or -supper, for it was growing dark. The rooms hitherto occupied by my -nurse and my late mother's maids were at once got ready for me. Thus I -found myself in the humble home of my parents, and fell asleep in that -room where three-and-twenty years before I had been born. - -Some three weeks passed in business of various kinds. I was engaged -with land judges, presidents, and every imaginable official of the -province. Finally I got possession of my inheritance. I was contented: -but soon the dulness of inaction began to torment me. I was not -yet acquainted with my kind and venerable neighbour N---- Domestic -occupations were altogether strange to me. The conversation of my -nurse, whom I promoted to the rank of housekeeper, consisted of fifteen -family anecdotes. I found them very interesting, but as she always -related them in the same way she soon became for me another Niebuhr -letter-writer, in which I knew precisely on what page every particular -line occurred. That worthy book I found in the storeroom among a -quantity of rubbish sadly dilapidated. I brought it out into the light -and began to read it; but Kurganoff had lost his charm. I read him -through once more and never after opened him again. - -In this extremity it struck me: - -"Why not write myself?" The reader has been already told that I was -educated on copper money. Besides, to become an author seemed so -difficult, so unattainable, that the idea of writing quite frightened -me at first. Dare I hope ever to be numbered amongst writers, when my -ardent wish even to meet one had not yet been gratified? This reminds -me of something which I shall tell to show my unbounded enthusiasm for -my native literature. - -In 1820, while yet an ensign, I chanced to be on government business at -Petersburg. I stayed a week; and although I had not one acquaintance -in he place, I passed the time very pleasantly. I went daily to the -theatre, modestly to the fourth row in the gallery. I learnt the -names of all the actors and fell passionately in love with B----. She -had played one Sunday with great artistic feeling as Eulalie in _Hass -und Reue_ (in English _The Stranger._) In the morning, on my way from -headquarters, I would call at a small confectioner's, drink a cup of -chocolate, and read a literary journal. One day, while thus deep in an -article "by Goodintention, some one in a pea-green greatcoat suddenly -approached and gently withdrew the _Hamburg Gazette_ from under my -newspaper. I was so occupied that I did not look up. The stranger -ordered a steak and sat down facing me. I went on reading without -noticing him. - -Meanwhile he finished his luncheon, scolded the waiter for some -carelessness, drank half a bottle of wine, and left. Two young men were -also lunching. - -"Do you know who that was?" inquired one of them. - -"That was Goodintention ... the writer." - -"The writer!" I exclaimed involuntarily, and leaving the article unread -and the cup of chocolate undrunk, I hastily paid my reckoning, and -without waiting for the change rushed into the street. Looking round I -descried in the distance the pea-green coat and dashed along the Nevsky -Prospect almost at a run. When I had gone several steps I felt myself -stopped by some one, and looking back I found I had been noticed by an -officer of the guards. I; ought not to have knocked against him on the -pavement, but rather to have stopped and saluted. After this reprimand -I was more careful. Unluckily I met an officer every moment, and every -moment I had to stop, while the author got farther and farther away. -Never before had my soldier's overcoat proved so irksome, never had -epaulettes appeared so enviable. At last near the Annitchkin Bridge I -came up with the pea-green greatcoat. - -"May I inquire," I said, saluting, "are you Mr. Goodintention, whose -excellent article I have had the pleasure of reading in the _Zealous -Enlightener?_" - -"Not at all," he replied. "I am not a writer but a lawyer. But I know -Goodintention very well. A quarter of an hour ago I passed him at the -Police Bridge." In this way my respect for Russian letters cost me -80 kopecks of change, an official reprimand, and a narrow escape of -arrest, and all in vain. - -In spite of all the protest of my reason, the audacious thought of -becoming a writer kept recurring. At last, unable longer to resist it, -I made a thick copy book and resolved to fill it somehow. All kinds -of poems (humble prose did not yet enter into my reckoning) were in -turn considered and approved. I decided to write an epic furnished on -Russian history. I was not long in finding a hero. I chose Rurik, and I -set to work. - -I had acquired a certain aptitude for rhymes, by copying those in -manuscript which used to circulate among our officers, such as the -criticism on the Moscow Boulevards, the Presnensky Ponds, and the -Dangerous Neighbour. In spite of that my poem progressed slowly, -and at the third verse I dropped it. I concluded that the epic was -not my style, and began _Rurik_, _a Tragedy._ The tragedy halted. I -turned it into a ballad, but the ballad hardly seemed to do. At last -I had a happy thought. I began and succeeded in finishing an ode to a -portrait of Rurik. Despite the inauspicious character of such a title, -particularly for a young bard's first work, I yet felt that I had not -been born a poet, and after this first attempt desisted. These essays -in authorship gave me so great a taste for writing that I could now no -longer abstain from paper and ink. I could descend to prose. But at -first I wished to avoid the preliminary construction of a plot and the -connection of parts. I resolved to write detached thoughts without any -connection or order, just as they struck me. Unfortunately the thoughts -would not come, and in the course of two whole days the only thought -that struck me was the following: - -He who disobeys reason and yields to the inclination of his passions -often goes wrong and ends by repenting when it is too late. - -This though no doubt true enough was not original. - -Abandoning aphorism I took to tales; but being too unpractised in -arranging incidents I selected such remarkable occurrences as I had -heard of at various times and tried to ornament the truth by a lively -style and the flowers of my own imagination. Composing these tales -little by little, I formed my style and learnt to express myself -correctly, pleasantly, and freely. My stock was soon exhausted, and I -again began to seek a subject. - -To abandon these childish anecdotes of doubtful authenticity, and -narrate real and great events instead, was an idea by which I had long -been haunted. - -To be the judge, the observer, and the prophet of ages and of peoples -seemed to me a most attainable object of ambition to a writer. What -history could I write--I with my pitiable education? Where was I not -forestalled by highly cultivated and conscientious men? What history -had they left unexhausted. Should I write a universal history? But was -there not already the immortal work of Abbé Millot. A national history -of Russia, what could I say after Tatishtcheff Bolitin and Golikoff? -And was it for me to burrow amongst records and to penetrate the -occult meaning of a dead language--for me who could never master the -Slavonian alphabet? Why not try a history on a smaller scale?--for -instance, the history of our town! But even here how very numerous -and insuperable seemed the obstacles--a journey to the town, a visit -to the governor and the bishop, permission to examine the archives, -the monastery, the cellars, and so on. The history of our town would -have been easier; but it could interest neither the philosopher nor -the artist, and afford but little opening for eloquence. The only -noteworthy record in its annals relates to a terrible fire ten years -ago which burnt the bazaar and the courts of justice. An accident -settled my doubts. A woman hanging linen in a loft found an old -basket full of shavings, dust, and books. The whole household knew my -passion for reading. My housekeeper while I sat over my paper gnawing -my pen and meditating on the experience of country prophets entered -triumphantly dragging a basket into my room, and bringing joyfully -"books! books!" - -Books! I repeated in delight as I rushed to the basket. Actually a pile -of them with covers of green and of blue paper. It was a collection of -old almanacks. My ardour was cooled by the discovery, still they were -books, and I generously rewarded her pains with half a silver ruble. - -When she had gone I began to examine my almanacks; I soon became -absorbed. They formed a complete series from 1744 to 1799 including -exactly 55 years. The blue sheets of paper usually bound in the -almanacks were covered with old-fashioned handwriting. Skimming these -lines I noticed with surprise that besides remarks on the weather -and accounts they contained scraps of historical information about -the village of Gorohina. Among these valuable documents I began my -researches, and soon found that they presented a full history of my -native place for nearly a century, in chronological order, besides an -exhaustive store of economical, statistical, meteorological, and other -learned information. Thenceforth the study of these documents took up -my time, for I perceived that from them a stately, instructive, and -interesting history could be made. As I became sufficiently acquainted -with these valuable notes, I began to search for new sources of -information about the village of Gorohina, and I soon became astonished -at the wealth of material. After devoting six months to a preliminary -study of them, I at last began the long wished for work; and by God's -grace completed the same on the 3rd of November, 1827. To-day, like a -fellow-historian, whose name I do not recollect, having finished my -hard task, I lay down my pen and sadly walk into my garden to meditate -upon my performance. It seems even to me that now the history of -Gorohina is finished I am no longer wanted in the world. My task is -ended; and it is time for me to die. - - * * * * * - -I add a list of the sources whence I drew the history of Gorohina. - -I. A collection of ancient almanacks in fifty fifty--five parts. Of -these the first twenty are covered with an old-fashioned writing; -much abbreviated. The manuscript is that of my grandfather; Andrei -Stepanovitch Belkin; and is remarkably clear and concise. For example: -4th of May. Snow. - -Trishka for his impertinence beaten. 6th. The red cow died. Senka for -drunkenness beaten. 8th. A fine day. 9th. Rain and snow. Trishka for -drunkenness beaten.... and so on without comment. 11th. The weather -fine, first snow; hunted three hares. The remaining thirty-five parts -were in various hands mostly commercial with or without abbreviations, -usually profuse; disjointed; and incorrectly written. Here and there a -feminine handwriting appeared. In these years occurred my grandfather's -notes about his wife Bupraxic Aleksevna; others written by her and -others by the steward Grobovitsky. - -II. The notes of the Gorohina church clerk. This curious manuscript -was discovered by me at the house of my priest; who has married the -daughter of the writer. The first earlier sheets had been torn out and -used by the priests children for making kites. One of these had fallen -in the middle of my yard. I picked it up? and was about to restore it -to the children when I noticed that it was written on. From the first -lines I saw that the kite was made out of some one's journal. Luckily I -was in time to save the rest. These journals, which I got for a measure -of oats, are remarkable for depth of thought and dignity of expression. - -III. Oral legends. I despised no source of information, but I am -specially indebted for much of this to Agrafena Tryphonovna, the mother -of Avdei the starosta and reputed mistress of the steward Grobovitsky. - -IV. Registry reports with remarks by the former _starosta_ on the -morality and condition of the peasants. - -"31st October, 1830. Fabulous Times. The Starosta Tryphon." - -The foundation of Gorohina and the history of its original inhabitants -are lost in obscurity. Dark legend tells how that Gorohina was once a -large and wealthy village, that all its inhabitants were rich, that -the obrok (the land proprietor's tithes) was collected once a year and -carted off in loads no one knew to whom. At that time everything was -bought cheap and sold dear. There were no stewards, and the elders -dealt fairly by all. The inhabitants worked little and lived merrily. -The shepherds as they watched their flocks wore boots. We must not be -deceived by this charming picture. The notion of a golden age is common -to all nations, and only proves that as people are never contented with -the present, and derive from experience small hope for the future, -they adorn the irrevocable past with all the hues of fancy. What is -certain, however, is that the village of Gorohina from ancient times -has belonged to the distinguished race of Belkins. But these ancestors -of mine had many other estates, and paid but little attention to this -remote village. Gorohina paid small tithe and was managed by elders -elected by the people in common council. - -At that early period the inheritance of the Belkins was broken up, and -fell in value. The impoverished grandchildren of the rich grandsire, -unable to give up their luxurious habits, required from an estate now -only producing one tenth of its former revenue the full income of -former times. Threats followed threats. The starosta read them out in -common council. The elders declaimed, the commune agitated, and the -masters, instead of the double tithes, received tiresome excuses and -humble complaints written on dirty paper and sealed with a _polushka_ -(less than a farthing). - -A sombre cloud hung over Gorohina; but no one heeded it. In the last -year of Tryphon's power, the last of the starostas chosen by the -people, the day of the church festival, when the whole population -either crowded noisily round the house of entertainment (the -public-house) or wandered through the streets embracing one another -or loudly singing the songs of Arhip the Bald, there drove into the -courtyard a covered hired _britchka_ drawn by a couple of half-dead -screws, with a ragged Jew upon the box. From the britchka a head in a -cap looked out and seemed to peer curiously at the merry-making crowd. -The inhabitants greeted the carriage with laughter and rude jokes. -With the flaps of their coats turned up the madmen mocked the Jewish -driver, shouting in doggrell rhyme, "Jew, Jew, eat a pig's ear." But -how great was their astonishment (wrote the clerk) when the carriage -stopped in the middle of the village and the occupant jumped out, and -in an authoritative voice called for the starosta Tryphon. This officer -was in the house of pleasure, whence two elders led him forth holding -him under the arms. The stranger looked at him sternly, handed him a -letter, and told him to read it at once. The starostas of Gorohina -were in the habit of never reading anything themselves. The rural -clerk Avdei was sent for. He was found asleep under a hedge and was -brought before the stranger. But either from the sudden fright or from -a sad fore-boding, the words distinctly written in the letter appeared -to him in a mist, and he could not read them. The stranger sent the -starosta Tryphon and the rural clerk Avdei with terrible curses to -bed, postponing the reading of the letter till the morrow and entered -the office hut, whither the Jew carried his small trunk. The people -of Gorohina looked in amazement at this unusual incident, but the -carriage, the stranger, and the Jew were quickly forgotten. They ended -their day with noise and merriment, and Gorohina went to sleep without -presentiments of the future. - -At sunrise the inhabitants were awakened with knockings at the windows -and a call to a meeting of the commune. The citizens one after the -other appeared in the courtyard round the office hut, which served as -a council ground. Their eyes were dim and red, their faces swollen; -yawning and scratching their heads, they stared at the man with the -cap, in an old blue caftan, standing pompously on the steps of the -office hut, while they tried to recollect his features, which they -seemed to have seen some time or another. - -The starosta and his clerk Avdei stood by his side, bareheaded, with -the same expression of dejection and sorrow. - -"Are all here?" inquired the stranger. - -"Are all here?" repeated the starosta. - -"The whole hundred," replied the citizens, when, the starosta informed -them that he had received a letter from the master, and, directed the -clerk to read it aloud to the commune. Avdei stepped forward and read -as follows: - -N.B. This alarming document, which he kept carefully shut up in the -icon-case, together with other memorandum of his authority over the -people of Gorohina, I copied at the house of Tryphon, our starosta. - - "TRYPHON IVANOFF, - - "The bearer of this letter, my agent.... is going to my patrimony, - the village of Gorohina, to assume the management of it. Directly he - arrives assemble the peasants and make known to them their master's - wishes; namely, that they are to obey my agent as they would myself, - and attend to his orders without demur; otherwise he is empowered to - treat them with great severity. I have been forced to take this step - by their shameless disobedience and your, Tryphon Ivanoff, roguish - indulgence. - - "(Signed) NIKOLAI _N...._ - -Then the agent, with his legs extended like an X and his arms akimbo -like a phitab, addressed to them the following pithy speech: "See that -you are not too troublesome, or I will certainly beat the folly out -of your heads quicker than the fumes of yesterday's drink." There -were no longer any fumes left in the head of any man of Gorohina. All -were dumbfounded, hung their noses, and dispersed in fear to their own -houses. The agent seized the reins of government, called for the list -of peasants, divided them into rich and poor, and began to carry into -effect his political system, which deserves particular description. It -was founded upon the following maxims: That the richer a peasant, the -more fractious he grows, and the poorer, the quieter. - -Consequently, like a good Christian, I cared most for the peace of the -estate. - -First, the deficits were distributed among the rich peasants, and were -exacted from them with the greatest severity. Second, the defaulting -or idle hands were forthwith set to plough, and if their labour proved -insufficient according to his standard, he assigned them as workmen -to the other peasants, who paid him for this a voluntary tax. The men -given as bondsmen, on the other hand, possessed the right of redeeming -themselves by paying, besides their deficit, a double annual tithe. All -the communal obligations were thrown upon the rich peasants. But the -recruiting arrangements were the masterpiece of the avaricious ruler, -for by turns all the rich peasants bought themselves off, till at last -the choice fell upon either the blackguard or the ruined one. - -Communal assemblies were abolished. The tithes were collected in small -sums and all the year round. The peasants, it seems, did not pay very -much more than before, but they could not earn or save enough to pay. -In three years Gorohina was quite pauperised. Gorohina quieted down; -the bazaar was empty, the songs of Arhip the Bald were unsung, one -half the men were ploughing in the fields, the other half serving -them as bond labourers. The children went begging, and the day of the -church fête became, according to the historian, not a day of joy and -exultation, but an annual mourning and commemoration of sorrow. - -FROM A GOROHINA ANNALIST. - -The accursed steward put Anton Timofeieff into irons, but the old man -Timofei bought his son's freedom for one hundred rubles. The steward -then put the irons on Petrusha Gremeieff, who likewise was ransomed -by his father for sixty-eight rubles. The accursed one then wanted to -handcuff Lech Tarassoff, but he escaped into the woods, to the regret -of the steward, who vented his rage in words; but sent to town in place -of Lech Tarassoff Vanka the drunkard, and gave him for a soldier as a -substitute. - - - - -PETER THE GREAT'S NEGRO. - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Amongst the young men sent abroad by Peter the Great to acquire the -information necessary for a civilised country was his godson Ibrahim -the negro. He was educated in a Parisian military school, passed out -as a captain of the artillery, distinguished himself in the Spanish -war, and when seriously wounded returned to Paris. In the midst of his -enormous labours the emperor never ceased to ask after his favourite, -of whose progress and good conduct the accounts were always favourable. -Peter was exceedingly pleased with him, and frequently invited him to -Russia; but Ibrahim was in no hurry. He excused himself; either his -wound, or his wish to complete his education, or want of money, served -as the pretext; and Peter complied with his wishes, begged him to take -care of his health, thanked him for his assiduity in study, and though -exceedingly economical himself was lavish to his _protégé,_ and sent -together with gold pieces fatherly advice and warning. - -Judging by all historical accounts, the flightiness, madness, and -luxury of the French of that period were unequalled. The latter years -of Louis XIV.'s reign, memorable for the strict piety, dignity, -and propriety of the court, have left no traces behind. The Duke -of Orleans, in whom many brilliant qualities united with vice of -every kind, unfortunately did not possess an atom of hypocrisy. The -orgies of the Palais Royal were no secret in Paris; the example was -infectious. At that time Law made his appearance. To the love of money -was united the thirst for pleasure and amusement. Estates dwindled, -morals perished, Frenchmen laughed and discussed, while the kingdom -crumbled to the jovial tunes of satirical vaudevilles. Meanwhile -society presented a most uninteresting picture. Culture and the -craving for amusement united all classes. Riches, amiability, renown, -accomplishments, even eccentricity, whatever nourished curiosity or -promised entertainment, was received with equal pleasure. Literature, -learning, and philosophy left the seclusion of the study to appear in -the great world and minister to fashion, the ruler of opinions. Women -reigned, but no longer exacted adoration. Superficial politeness took -the place of profound respect. The escapades of the Duke de Richelieu, -the Alcibiades of modern Athens, belong to history and display the -morals of that period: - - "Temps Fortune, marqué par la licence, - Ou la folie, agitant son grelot, - D'un pied leger parcourt toute la France, - Ou nul mortel ne daigne être dévot, - Ou l'on fait tout excepté pénitence." - -Ibrahim's arrival, his appearance, culture, and native wit, attracted -general attention in Paris. All the ladies fought for a visit from -the Tsar's negro. More than once was he invited to the Regent's merry -evenings; he was present at the suppers enlivened by the youth of -Voltaire and the age of Shollier, the conversations of Montesquieu -and Fontenelle. Not a ball, not a fête, not one first representation -did he miss; and he gave himself up to the general whirl with all the -passion of his youth and nature. But the idea of exchanging these -entertainments, these brilliant pleasures for the simplicity of the St. -Petersburg Court was not all that Ibrahim dreaded. Other and stronger -ties bound him to Paris. The young African was in love. No longer in -the first bloom of youth, the Countess L. was still celebrated for -her beauty. At seventeen, on leaving the convent, she was married to -a man for whom she had not learnt to feel the love which ultimately -he showed no care to win. Rumour assigned her lovers, but through -the leniency of society she still enjoyed a good repute; for nothing -ridiculous or scandalous could be brought against her. Her house was -the most fashionable, a centre of the best society in Paris. Ibrahim -was introduced by young G. de Merville, who was regarded generally -as her latest lover; an impression which he tried by every means to -strengthen. The Countess received Ibrahim with civility, but without -particular attention. He was flattered. Usually the young negro was -regarded with wonder, surrounded and overwhelmed with attention -and questions; and this curiosity, though veiled by a display of -friendliness, offended his vanity. - -The delightful attention of women, almost the sole aim of our -exertions, not only gave him no pleas are, but even ailed him with -bitterness and wrath. He felt that he was for them a species of rare -animal, a strange peculiar creature, accidentally brought into a -world with which he had naught in common. He even envied those whom -no one noticed, and deemed their insignificance a blessing. The idea -that nature had not formed him for tender passion robbed him of all -self-assertion and conceit, and added a rare charm to his manner -towards women. His conversation was simple and dignified. He pleased -the Countess L., who was tired of the formal pleasantries and pointed -innuendoes of French, wit. - -Ibrahim visited her often. Little by little she grew used to the young -negro's looks, and even began to find something agreeable in that early -head, so black amid the powdered wigs that thronged her drawing-room -(Ibrahim had been wounded in the head and wore a bandage in the place -of a wig). He was twenty-seven, tall and well built, and more than one -beauty glanced at him with feelings more flattering to him than mere -curiosity. But Ibraham either did not observe them or thought their -notice merely coquetry. But when his gaze met that of the Countess his -mistrust vanished. Her eyes expressed so much kindness, her manner to -him was so simple, so easy, that it was impossible to suspect her of -the least coquetry or insincerity. - -Though no thought of love entered his mind, to see the Countess daily -had become a necessity. He tried to meet her everywhere, and every -meeting seemed a godsend. The Countess guessed his feelings before he -did so himself. There is no doubt that a love which hopes nothing and -asks nothing touches the female heart more surely than all the arts of -the experienced. When Ibrahim was near, the Countess followed all his -movements, listened to all his words. Without him she became pensive, -and fell into her usual abstraction. Merville was first to notice their -mutual attraction, and congratulated Ibrahim. Nothing inflames love -like approving comments of outsiders. Love is blind, and putting no -trust in itself clings eagerly to every support. - -Merville's words roused Ibrahim. Hope suddenly dawned upon his soul; -he fell madly in love. In vain the Countess, alarmed by the vehemence -of his passion, wished to meet him with friendly warnings and sage -counsels; but she herself was growing weak. - -Nothing escapes the eye of the vigilant world. The Countess's new -attachment soon became known. Some ladies wondered at her choice; -many found him very ordinary. Some laughed; others considered her -inexcusably imprudent. In the first intoxication of their passion -Ibrahim and the Countess noticed nothing, but soon the jokes of the -men, the sarcasms of the women, began to reach them. Ibrahim's formal -and cold manner had hitherto guarded him from such attacks; he bore -them with impatience, and knew not how to retaliate. The Countess, -accustomed to the respect of society, could not calmly endure to see -herself an object of ridicule and scandal. She complained to Ibrahim -either with tears or bitter reproaches; then she begged him not to -take her part, nor ruin her completely by useless disturbance. - -Fresh circumstances complicated her position still more: results of her -imprudent love began to show themselves. The Countess in distress told -Ibrahim. Consolation, advice, suggestions were in turn exhausted and -rejected. She foresaw her inevitable ruin, and in despair awaited it. -Immediately the Countesses condition became known, reports circulated -with renewed vigour. Sensitive women exclaimed in horror; the men made -bets whether she would bear a white or a black child. Epigrams poured -in about her husband, who alone in all Paris suspected nothing. The -fatal moment approached, the Countess was in a terrible state. Ibrahim -called every day. He saw her strength of mind and body gradually -failing. Her tears and terror increased momentarily. At last she felt -the first throes. Measures were taken hurriedly. Means were found to -get the Count out of the way. The doctor arrived. Two days previous -to this a poor woman had been persuaded to resign into the hands of -strangers her new-born infant, for which a messenger was sent. - -Ibrahim remained in the study next the bedroom where the unhappy -Countess lay, scarcely daring to breathe; he heard muffled groans, the -maidservants whispers, and the doctor's directions. She suffered long. -Each groan lacerated Ibrahim's heart, and every silent pause filled -him with dread; suddenly he heard the weak cry of a child, and unable -to control his delight rushed into the Countess's room. A black infant -lay on the bed at her feet. Ibrahim approached it. His heart throbbed -violently. He blessed his son with a trembling hand. The Countess with -a faint smile stretched towards him a feeble hand, but the doctor, -fearing too much excitement for his patient, dragged Ibrahim away from -her bedside. The new-born babe was laid in a covered basket and carried -out by a secret staircase. The other child was brought in, and its -cradle placed in the bedroom. Ibrahim left feeling a trifle calmer. The -Count was expected. He returned late, heard of the happy confinement -of his wife, and was much pleased. Thus the public, which expected -a great scandal, was disappointed, and forced to be satisfied with -backbiting. Everything fell back into its usual routine. But Ibrahim -felt that his life must undergo a change, and that his intimacy must -sooner or later become known to Count L. In which case, whatever might -ensue, the Countess's ruin was inevitable. Ibrahim loved and was loved -with passion; but the Countess was wilful and flighty; and this was -not her first love. Disgust and hatred might in her heart replace -the tenderest feelings. Ibrahim already foresaw the time of her -indifference. Hitherto he had not known jealousy, but now with horror -he anticipated, it. Convinced that the anguish of a separation would be -less painful, he resolved to break off this luckless connection, quit -Paris, and return to Russia, whither Peter and a dull sense of duty had -long been calling him. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Days and months passed, and love-sick Ibrahim could not resolve to -leave the woman he had wronged. The Countess from hour to hour grew -more attached to him. Their son was being brought up in a distant -province; social scandal was subsiding, and the lovers began to enjoy -greater tranquillity, in silence remembering the past storm and trying -not to think of the future. - -One day Ibrahim was standing at the Duke of Orleans' door. The Duke -passing him, stopped, handed him a letter, and bade him read it at his -leisure. It was a letter from Peter I. The Tsar, guessing the real -cause of his absence, wrote to the Hake that he in no way desired to -compel Ibrahim, and left it to his free will to return to Russia or -not; but that in any case he should never forsake his foster-child. -This letter touched Ibrahim to the heart. From that moment his decision -was made. Next day he announced to the Regent his intention to start -immediately for Russia. - -"Consider the step you are about to take," replied the Duke. "Russia is -not your home. I don't think you will ever have a chance of seeing your -torrid Africa, and your long residence in France has made you equally -a stranger to the climate and the semi-barbarous life of Russia. You -were not born one of Peter's subjects. Take my advice, profit by his -generous permission, stay in France, for which you have already shed -your blood, and be convinced that here your services and talents will -not be left without their due reward." - -Ibrahim thanked the Duke sincerely, but remained firm in his resolve. - -"I regret it," replied the Regent; "but on the whole you may be right." - -He promised to let him retire and wrote to inform the Tsar. - -Ibrahim was soon ready for the journey. On the eve of his departure -he passed the evening as usual at the Countess L's. She knew nothing. -Ibrahim had not the courage to tell her. The Countess was calm and -cheerful. She several times called him to her and joked about -his pensiveness. After supper everybody had gone, leaving in the -drawing-room only the Countess, her husband, and Ibrahim. The unhappy -man would have given the world to be left alone with her; but Count L. -seemed to be settled so comfortably near the grate that it appeared -hopeless to wait to see him out of the room. All three remained silent. - -_"Bonne nuit!_" at last said the Countess. - -Ibrahim's heart sank and he suddenly experienced all the horrors of -parting. He stood motionless. - -"_Bonne nuit, messieurs,_" repeated the Countess. - -Still he did not move. At last his eyes became dim, his head went -round, and he could scarcely get out of the room. - -Arriving at home, almost mad, he wrote as follows: - -"I am going, dearest Leonora, to leave you for ever. I write because I -have not the strength to tell you otherwise. Our happiness could not -continue; I have enjoyed it against the will of destiny and nature. -You must in time have ceased to love me. The enchantment must have -vanished. This idea has always haunted me, even when I seemed to -forget all, when at your feet I was intoxicated by your passionate -self-abnegation, by your boundless tenderness. The thoughtless world -mercilessly persecute that which in theory it permits. Sooner or later -its cold irony would have vanquished you, and cowed your passionate -soul, till finally you would have been ashamed of your love. - -"What, then, would have become of me? - -"Better to die; better to leave you before that terrible moment. Your -happiness to me is more precious than all; you could not enjoy it, -while the gaze of society was fixed upon us. Remember all you have -endured, your wounded pride, the torture of fear; the terrible birth -of our son. Think; ought I any longer to subject you to such fears and -dangers? Why should I endeavour to unite the fate of so tender, so -beautiful a creature with the miserable life of a negro, a pitiable -object scarce worthy of the name of man? - -"Forgive me, Leonora; dear and only friend. In leaving you, I leave -the first and last joy of my heart. I have no fatherland nor kin. I go -to Russia, where my utter solitude will be my joy. Serious pursuits -to which from henceforth I devote myself, if they do not silence must -at any rate distract painful recollections of the days of rapture. -Farewell, Leonora! I tear myself away from this letter, as if from your -embrace. Farewell, be happy, and think sometimes of the poor negro, of -your faithful Ibrahim." - -The same night he started for Russia. The journey did not seem as -terrible as he had expected. His imagination triumphed over fact. The -further he got from Paris the nearer and more vivid seemed to him all -the objects he was leaving for ever. - -Imperceptibly he reached the Russian frontier. Autumn had already set -in, but the hired relays, notwithstanding the badness of the roads, -brought him with the swiftness of the wind, and on the seventeenth -morning he arrived at Krasnoe Selo, through which at that time passed -the high road. - -There remained twenty-eight versts' journey to St. Petersburg. While -the horses were being changed Ibrahim entered the posting-house. In a -corner a tall man, in a green caftan and a clay pipe in his mouth, sat -leaning against the table reading the _Hamburg Gazette_. Hearing some -one enter he raised his head. - -"Oh, Ibrahim!" he exclaimed, rising from the bench. "How do you do, -godson?" - -Ibrahim recognised Peter, and in his delight rushed at him, but stopped -respectfully. The monarch approached, put his arms round him, and -kissed him on the forehead. - -"I was told of your coming," said Peter, "and drove off to meet you. I -Pave been waiting for you here since yesterday." - -Ibrahim could not find words to express his gratitude. - -"Tell them," added the Tsar, "to let your carriage follow us, while you -get in by my side and drive to my place." - -The Tsar's calèche was announced; he and Ibrahim got in and started at -a gallop. In an hour and a half they reached St. Petersburg. Ibrahim -looked with interest at the new-born city, which had sprung up by the -will of the Tsar. The bare banks, the canals without quays, the wooden -bridges, everywhere bore witness to the recent triumph of human will -over the elements. The houses seemed to have been hurriedly built. -The whole town contained nothing magnificent but the Neva, not yet -decorated with its granite framework, but already covered with ships -of war and merchantmen. The Tsar's calèche drew up at the palace, -_i.e._ at the Tsaritsa's garden. On the door-steps Peter was met by a -woman about thirty-five, handsome, and dressed in the latest Parisian -fashion. Peter kissed her, and, taking Ibrahim by the hand, said: - -"Katinka, do you recognise my godson? I beg you to love and welcome him -as before." - -Catherine turned on him her black searching eyes, and graciously held -out her hand. Two young beauties, tall and shapely, and fresh as roses, -stood behind her and respectfully approached Peter. - -"Lisa," he said to one, "do you remember the little negro who stole -apples from me at Oranienburgh to give to you? Here he is, I introduce -him to you." - -The grand duchess laughed and blushed. They went into the dining-room. -In expectation of the Tsar the table had been laid. Peter, having -invited Ibrahim, sat down with all his family to dinner. During dinner -the Tsar talked to him on different topics, inquiring about the Spanish -war, the internal affairs of Prance and the Regent, whom he liked, -though he found in his conduct much to blame. Ibrahim displayed an -accurate and observant mind. Peter was much pleased with his answers; -remembering some incidents of Ibrahim's childhood, he related them with -such good-humoured merriment that no one could have suspected this kind -and hospitable host to be the hero of Poltava, the mighty and terrible -reformer of Russia. - -After dinner the Tsar, according to the Russian custom, retired to -rest. Ibrahim remained with the empress and the grand duchesses. He -tried to satisfy their curiosity, described Parisian life, their fêtes -and capricious fashions. In the mean-while, some of the emperor's -suite assembled in the palace. Ibrahim recognised the magnificent -Prince Menshikoff, who, seeing the negro conversing with Catherine, -cast him a scornful glance; Prince Jacob Dolgoruki, Peter's stern -counsellor; the learned Bruce, known among the people as the Russian -Paustus; young Bagusinski, his former companion, and others who had -come to the Tsar to bring reports and receive instructions. In a couple -of hours the Tsar came out. - -"Let us see," he said to Ibrahim, "if you remember your old duties. -Get a slate and follow me." Peter locked himself in the carpenter's -room and was engaged with state affairs. He worked alternately with -Bruce, Prince Dolgoruki, General Police-master Devière, and dictated -to Ibrahim several ukases and decisions. Ibrahim was struck by the -rapidity and firmness of his decision, the strength and the pliability -of his intellect, and the variety of his occupations. When his work -was ended Peter took out a pocket book to compare the notes and see if -he had got through all he had meant to do that day. Then quitting the -carpenter's workroom he said to Ibrahim: - -"It is late; I dare say you are tired, sleep the night here, as in the -old time; to-morrow I will wake you." - -Ibrahim, left alone, could hardly realise that he was again at St. -Petersburg, in the presence of the great man; near whom, not yet -aware of his great worth, he had spent his childhood. It was almost -with regret that he confessed to himself that the Countess L. for the -first time since they parted had not been his sole thought throughout -the day. He saw that in the new mode of life awaiting him, work and -continual activity might revive his soul, exhausted by passion, -indolence, and secret sorrow. The idea of being the great man's -assistant, and with him influencing the fate of a mighty people, awoke -in him for the first time the noble feeling of ambition. In this humour -he lay down upon the camp bed prepared for him,--and then the usual -dreams carried him back to distant Paris, to the arms of his dear -countess. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Next morning, according to his promise, Peter woke Ibrahim and greeted -him as lieutenant-captain of the Preobrajensky regiment, in which he -himself was captain. The courtiers flocked round Ibrahim, each one in -his own way trying to welcome the new favourite. - -The haughty Prince Menshikoff gave him a friendly grasp of the hand. -Sheremetieff inquired after his own Parisian friend, and Golovin asked -him to dinner. Others followed his example, so that Ibrahim received -invitations for at least a whole month. - -His life was now passed in regular but active occupation; consequently -he was not dull. Prom day to day he became more attached to the Tsar, -and grew better able to appreciate his lofty character. The thoughts -of a great man are a most interesting study. Ibrahim saw Peter in the -Senate debating with Buturlin and Dolgoruki, discussing important -questions in the Admiralty, fostering the Russian navy,--in his -leisure, with Theophan, Gavril, Bujinski, and Kopievitch, examining -translations from foreign publications, or visiting a factory, an -artizan's workshop, or the study of some learned man. Russia became -to Ibrahim one vast workshop, where machinery alone moved, where each -workman under ordered rules is occupied with his own task. - -He felt that he too must work at his own bench, and tried to regret -as little as possible the amusements of his Parisian life. But if -was hander to forget a dearer memory. Often he thought of Countess -L., her just indignation, her tears, and grief. At times a terrible -thought oppressed him: the distractions of society: new ties: another -favourite. He shuddered; jealousy began to rage in his African blood, -and burning tears were ready to flow down his swarthy face. - -One morning he was sitting in his study amid official documents, when -he heard himself loudly greeted in French. Turning quickly round he was -embraced with joyous exclamations by young Korsakoff, whom he had left -in Paris in the whirl of the great world. - -"I have only just arrived," said Korsakoff "and came straight to you. -All our Parisian friends desire to be remembered to you, and regret -your absence. The Countess L. requested me to invite you without fail, -and here is her letter for you." - -Ibrahim seized it eagerly, and was looking at the familiar writing on -the envelope, scarcely believing his own eyes. - -"How glad I am," added Korsakoff, "that you have not been bored to -death in this barbarous Petersburg. How do they manage here? What do -they do? Who is your tailor? Have they started an opera?" - -Ibrahim absently replied that the Tsar was probably at that moment at -work in the shipping dock. - -Korsakoff laughed. - -"I see," he said, "you are preoccupied, and don't want me just now. -Another time we will have a good talk; I am off to present my respects -to his Majesty." With these words he turned on his heel, and hurried -out of the room. - -Left alone Ibrahim quickly opened the letter. The countess complained -tenderly, reproached him with falseness and inconstancy. - -"You used to say," she wrote, "that my happiness was more to you than -all the world. Ibrahim, if this were true, could you have left me in -the state to which the sudden news of your departure brought me. You -were afraid I might detain you. Be assured that, in spite of my love, -I should have known how to sacrifice it for your good and to what you -deem your duty." - -The countess ended with passionate assurances of love, begging him to -write, if only occasionally, and even if there were no hope that they -would ever meet again. - -Ibrahim read and re-read this letter twenty times, rapturously kissing -those precious lines. Burning with impatience for news about the -countess, he set out for the Admiralty, hoping to find his friend still -there, when the door opened, and Korsakoff re-entered. He had seen the -Tsar, and he seemed as usual perfectly self-satisfied. - -"Between ourselves," he said to Ibrahim, "the Tsar is a most -extraordinary man. Fancy! I found him in a sort of linen vest on the -mast of a new ship, whither I had to scramble with my dispatches. I -stood on a rope ladder, and had not room enough to make a proper bow. -I lost my presence of mind for the first time in all my life. However, -the Tsar, when he had read my papers, looked at me from head to foot. -Ho doubt he was agreeably impressed by my good taste and splendid -attire. At any rate he smiled, and invited me to the assembly today. -But I am a perfect stranger in Petersburg. For my six years' absence I -have quite forgotten the local customs. Please be my mentor; call for -me on your way, and introduce me." - -Ibrahim promised, and hastened to turn the conversation on the subject -that most interested him. - -"How was the Countess L.?" - -"The countess? At first she was naturally most unhappy at your -departure; then, of course by degrees, she grew reconciled, and took -to herself another lover--who do you think? The lanky Marquis R. Why -do you open those African eyes of yours? Does this appear to you so -strange? Don't you know that enduring grief is not in human nature, -particularly in a woman. Meditate duly upon that while I go and rest -after my journey, and don't forget to call for me on your way." - -What terrible thoughts crowded Ibrahim's soul? Jealousy? Rage? -Despair?--Ho!--but a deep, crushing sorrow. - -He murmured to himself. I foresaw it, it was bound to happen. Then he -opened the countess's letter, read it over again, hung his head, and -wept bitterly. Long did he weep. Those tears relieved him. He looked -at his watch and found that it was time to start. Gladly would he have -stayed away, but the party was an affair of duty, and the Tsar was -strict in exacting the attendance of those attached to him. - -He dressed and started to fetch Korsakoff. Korsakoff was sitting in his -dressing gown, reading a French book. - -"So early?" he exclaimed, seeing Ibrahim. - -"Excuse me," the other replied, "it's already half-past five, we shall -be late; make haste and dress, and let us go." - -Korsakoff hurriedly rang the bell with all his might; the servants -hurried in, and he began hastily to dress. His French valet handed him -slippers with red heels, light blue velvet breeches, a pink kaftan -embroidered with spangles. In the antechamber his wig was hurriedly -powdered and brought in; Korsakoff pushed into it his closely cropped -head, asked for his sword and gloves, turned ten times before the -glass, and announced to Ibrahim that he was ready. The footmen handed -them their bearskin overcoats, and they drove off to the Winter Palace. - -Korsakoff smothered Ibrahim with questions. - -Who was the belle of St. Petersburg. Which man was considered the -best dancer? and which dance was the most fashionable? Ibrahim very -reluctantly gratified his curiosity. Meanwhile they reached the -palace. A number of long sledges, old carriages, and gilded coaches -stood on the lawn. Near the steps were crowded coachmen in livery and -moustaches, outriders glittering with tinsel, with feathers and maces, -hussars, pages and awkward footmen carrying their masters' furcoats -and muffs, a following indispensable according to the notions of the -gentry of that period. At sight of Ibrahim a general murmur ran. "The -negro, the negro, the Tzar's negro!" He hurriedly led Korsakoff through -this motley crowd. The Court footman opened wide the doors; and they -entered a large room. Korsakoff was dumb with astonishment. In this big -hall, lighted up with tallow candles dimly burning amidst clouds of -tobacco smoke, sat magnates with blue ribbons across their shoulders, -ambassadors, foreign merchants, officers of the guards in their green -uniform, shipbuilders in jackets and striped trousers, all moving to -and fro in crowds to the unceasing sound of sacred music. The ladies -sat near to the walls;--the young attired in all the splendour of -fashion. Gold and silver shone upon their gowns; from the midst of wide -crinolines their slender figures rose like flower stalks. Diamonds -glittered in their ears, in their long curls, and round their neck. -They turned gaily to the right and left awaiting the gentlemen and the -dancing. - -Elderly ladies tried cunningly to combine the new style of dress with -the vanished past; caps were modelled on the small sable hat of the -Tsaritsa Natalia Kirilovna, and gowns and mantles somehow recalled the -sarafan and dushegreika (short jacket without sleeves). They seemed -to share rather with wonder than enjoyment in these new imported -amusements, and glanced angrily at the wives and daughters of the Dutch -skippers, who in cotton skirts and red jackets knitted their stockings -and sat laughing and talking quite at ease amongst themselves. Seeing -the fresh arrivals, a servant approached with beer and tumblers on a -tray. Korsakoff in bewilderment whispered to Ibrahim. - -"Que diable est ce que tout cela?" Ibrahim could not repress a smile. -The empress and the grand duchess, radiant in their own beauty and -their attire, walked through the rows of guests, talking affably to -them. The emperor was in another room, Korsakoff, wishing to show -himself to him, with difficulty pushed his way through the ever-moving -crowd. Sitting in that room were mostly foreigners solemnly smoking -their clay pipes and drinking from their earthen jugs. On the tables -were bottles of beer and wine, leather pouches with tobacco, tumblers -of punch, and a few draught-boards. At one of these was Peter playing -draughts with a broad-shouldered English skipper. They solemnly saluted -one another with gulps of tobacco smoke, and the Tsar was so engrossed -by an unexpected move of his opponent that he did not notice Korsakoff, -in spite of the latter's contortions. At that moment a stout gentleman -with a large bouquet on his breast rushed in, announced in a loud voice -that dancing had begun, and instantly retired. He was followed by a -large number of the guests, including Korsakoff among the rest. - -The unexpected sight surprised him. Along the whole length of the -hall, to the sound of the most doleful music, the ladies and gentlemen -stood in two rows face to face. The gentlemen bowed low; the ladies -curtsied lower still, first to their _vis-à-vis_, then to the right, -then to the left; again to their _vis-à-vis_, then to the right, and -so on. Korsakoff, gazing at this fantastic pastime, opened his eyes -and bit his lips. The curtsying and bowing went on for about half an -hour. At last they ended, and the stout gentleman with the bouquet -announced that the dances of ceremony were ended, and ordered the band -to play a minuet. Korsakoff was delighted, and made ready to show -off. Among the young ladies was one whom he particularly admired. She -was about sixteen, dressed richly but with taste, and sat next an -elderly gentleman of dignified and stern appearance. Korsakoff rushed -up to her and begged the honour of a dance. The young beauty was -disconcerted, and seemed to be at a loss what to say. The man sitting -next her frowned more than before. Korsakoff awaited her reply, when -the gentleman with the bouquet approached, led him to the middle of the -hall, and said pompously: - -"Dear sip, you have done wrong. In the first place, you approached this -young person without first rendering her the three requisite salutes, -and secondly, you took upon yourself the right of choosing her, whereas -in the minuet that privilege is hers and not the gentleman's. For this -you must undergo severe punishment, that is you must drain the goblet -of the Great Eagle." - -Korsakoff from hour to hour grew more astonished. In a moment the -guests surrounded him, loudly demanding instant compliance with the -law. Peter, hearing the laughter and loud talk, came from the next -room, being very fond of witnessing such punishments. The crowd divided -before him and he stepped into the centre, where stood the accused with -the master of the ceremonies before him holding an enormous cup full -of malmsey wine. He was earnestly persuading the culprit to submit -willingly to the law. - -"Aha!" said Peter, seeing Korsakoff, "you are caught, brother. Drink, -monsieur, and no wry faces." - -There was nothing for it. The poor dandy, without stopping, drained the -goblet and returned it to the master of the ceremonies. - -"Hark, Korsakoff," said Peter, "your breeches are of velvet, the like -even I don't wear, who am much richer than you. That is extravagance, -take care I do not quarrel with you." - -After this rebuke Korsakoff wished to leave the circle, but staggered -and nearly fell, to the great delight of the emperor and the merry -company. This incident not only did not mar the harmony nor interest of -the principal entertainment, but on the contrary enlivened it. - -The gentlemen began to scrape and bow, and the ladies to curtsy and -knock their little heels together with great diligence, no longer -keeping time to the music. Korsakoff could not share in the general -merriment. By her father Gavril Afanassievitch Rjevski's orders, the -lady whom Korsakoff had chosen approached Ibrahim, and, dropping her -eyes, timidly held out her hand to him. Ibrahim danced the minuet with -her and led her back to her seat, then went in search of Korsakoff, -led him out of the hall, placed him in the carriage, and drove him -home. At the beginning of the journey Korsakoff mumbled, "Curses upon -the soiree and the goblet of the Great Eagle," but he soon fell into -a deep sleep. He knew not how he got home, undressed, and was put to -bed, and he awoke next day with a headache, and a dim remembrance of -the scraping, curtseying, and tobacco smoke, the gentleman with the -enormous bouquet, and the mighty goblet of the Great Eagle. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - _(Verse from "Ruslan and Ludmila.")_ - - "Our forefathers were leisurely souls, - Right leisurely did they dine, - And they ladled slow from their silver bowls - The foaming beer and wine." - - -I must introduce you, gracious reader, to Gavril Afanassievitch -Rjevski. He came of an ancient noble race, owned vast estates, was -hospitable, loved falconry, had an enormous retinue, and was, in a -word, a good old Russian gentleman. In his own words he could not bear -anything foreign, and in his home he tried to maintain the customs of -the good old days he loved so well. His daughter was seventeen. In -childhood she had lost her mother, and she had been brought up in the -old-fashioned way, amid a crowd of governesses, nurses, companions, and -children from the servants' hall. She could embroider in gold and was -illiterate. Her father, in spite of his dislike to all things foreign, -could not oppose her wish to learn German dances from a captive Swedish -officer living in their house. This worthy dancing master was about -fifty; his right foot had been shot through at the battle of Narva, -and therefore it was not very active at minuets and courantes; but -the left was very dexterous and agile in the more difficult steps. -His young pupil did credit to his teaching. Natalia Gavrilovna was -celebrated at these soirees for her dancing, which was partly the cause -of Korsakoff's proceedings. He came next morning to apologise to Gavril -Afanassievitch. But the young dandy's manner and fine dress displeased -the proud _barin_ who nicknamed him the French monkey. - -It was a holiday. Gavril Afanassievitch expected a number of friends -and relations. In the ancient hall a long table was being laid. The -guests were arriving with their wives and daughters, who had at last -been released from their domestic prison by the order and by the -example of the Tsar. Natalia Gavrilovna handed round a silver tray -laden with golden cups, and each guest, as he drained one, regretted -that the kiss which accompanied it on such occasions in olden times was -out of fashion. - -They sat down to table. In the place of honour next the host sat his -father-in-law, Prince Boris Alexeievitch Lykoff, a boyar in his -seventieth year. The other guests were placed in order of descent, and -thus recalling the happy times of precedence by office, sat down, men -on one side, women on the other. At the end of the table, the companion -in the old-fashioned dress, a dwarf,--a thirty-year-old infant, -affected and wrinkled,--and the captive dancing master in a shabby dark -blue uniform, took their accustomed seats. The table, covered with a -great number of dishes, was surrounded by numerous and busy servants, -distinguishable among whom was the butler, with severe mien, big -stomach, and pompous immobility. The first few moments of dinner were -devoted entirely to the dishes of our time-honoured Russian cookery. -The rattle of plates and the activity of spoons produced a general -taciturnity. - -At last the host, perceiving that the time had come for entertaining -the guests with agreeable conversation, turned and asked: - -"Where, then, is Ekimovna? Let her be summoned!" - -Several attendants were about to rush off in different directions, -when an old woman, painted white and pink, decorated with flowers and -tinsel, in a silk damask gown with a low neck, entered, singing and -dancing. Her advent occasioned general delight. - -"Good-day to you, Ekimovna?" said Prince Lykoff. "How are you getting -on?" - -"Well and healthily, gossip; all night dancing, my suitors awaiting." - -"Where have you been, fool?" asked the host. - -"Dressing, gossip, to receive the dear guests, on the Lord's festival, -by order of the Tsar, by command of the master, to the derision of the -world in the German style." - -At these words there was a loud burst of laughter, and the jester took -her place behind the host's chair. - -"And folly talks foolishly, and sometimes tells the truth in her -folly," said Tatiana Afanassievna, eldest sister of the host, and much -respected by him. "Naturally the present style of dress must seem -ridiculous to everybody. When you, my friends, have shaved your beards -and put on a short coat, it is of course no use talking of women's -rags; but really it is a pity the sarafan, the maiden's ribbons, and -the povoinik [a head-dress] should be discarded. It is really sad and -comic to see the beauties of to-day, their hair frizzed like flax, -greased and covered with French powder, the waist laced in so tight -that it seems on the point of snapping--their bodies encased in hoops, -so that they have to go sideways through a carriage door. They stoop; -they can neither stand, sit, nor breathe--real martyrs, my poor dears." - -"Dear mother Tatiana Afanassievna!" said Kirila Petrovitch, formerly a -_voievod_ at Riasan, where he acquired 3,000 serfs and a young wife, -neither by strictly honourable means. "But my wife may dress as she -likes as long as she does not order new gowns every month and throw -away the previous ones, while still quite perfectly new. Formerly the -granddaughter included in her dowry the grandmother's sarafan; but -now you see the mistress in a gown to-day and to-morrow it is on the -maid. What is to be done? Nothing but ruin confronts the Russian noble. -Very sad!" he said, with a sigh, looking at his Maria Ilienitchna, who -seemed to like neither his praise of olden times nor his disparagement -of the latest fashions. The rest of the ladies shared her displeasure, -but they said nothing, for modesty was in those days still deemed -essential in young women. - -"And who is to blame?" asked Gravril Afanassievitch, frothing a mug of -_kissli shtchi_ (sort of lemonade). "Is it not our own fault? The young -women play the fool and we encourage them." - -"What can we do? We cannot help ourselves," replied Kirila Petrovitch. -"A man would gladly shut his wife up in the house, but she is summoned -with beating of drums to attend the assemblies. The husband follows -the whip, but the wife runs after dress. Oh, those assemblies! The Lord -has sent them upon us to punish us for our sins." - -Maria Ilienitchna sat on needles; her tongue itched. At last she could -bear it no longer, and turning to her husband inquired with a little -acid smile what he found to object to in the assemblies. - -"This is what I find to object to," replied the irritated husband. -Since they began, husbands cannot manage their wives; wives have -forgotten the teaching of the apostles--that a wife shall reverence her -husband. They trouble themselves not about their domestic affairs, but -about new apparel. They consider not how to please the husband, but -how to attract the officers. And is it becoming, madam, for a Russian -lady--wife or maid--to hobnob with German tobacconists and with their -workmen? Who ever heard of dancing till night and talking with young -men? If they were relatives, all well and good--but with strangers and -with men they do not know." - -"I would say a word, but there is a wolf near," said Gavril -Afanassievitch, with a frown. "I confess these assemblies are not to my -taste; at any moment you may jostle against a drunken man, or perhaps -be made drunk yourself to amuse others. Then there is the danger -that some blackguard may be up to mischief with your daughter; the -modern young men are so spoilt, it is disgraceful. Take for instance -the son of the late Evgraff Sergueievitch Korsakoff; who at the last -assembly made such a fuss about Natasha, that he brought the blood into -my cheeks. Next day he coolly drives up to my gate. I was wondering -whether it could be Prince Alexander Danilovitch. No such luck. Ivan -Evgrafovitch! He would not stop at the gate and take the trouble to -walk up to the door, it is not likely! Korsakoff rushed in, bowing -and scraping, and chattered at such a rate, the Lord preserve us! The -fool Ekimovna mimics him most comically; by-the-bye, fool, give us the -foreign monkey." - -Foolish Ekimovna seized the cover off a dish, tucked it under her arm -like a hat, and began wriggling, scraping with her feet, and bowing -in all directions, saying _monsieur_, _mademoiselle_, _assemblée_, -_pardon_. General and prolonged laughter again showed the delight of -the guests. - -"Exactly like Korsakoff," said old Prince Lykoff, wiping away his tears -of laughter when the noise had gradually subsided. "It must be owned, -however, he is not the first nor the last who has come from foreign -parts to holy Russia a buffoon. What do our children learn abroad? To -scrape their feet, to chatter the Lord knows what lingo, not to respect -their elders, and to dangle after other men's wives. Of all the young -people who have been educated abroad (the Lord forgive me) the Tzar's -negro most resembles a man." - -"Oh, prince!" said Tatiana Afanassievna. I have--I have seen him close. -What a frightful muzzle he has. I was quite frightened of him." - -"Certainly," added Gavril Afanassievitch. "He is a steady, decent man, -not a brother of the whirlwind. Who is it that has just driven through -the gate into the courtyard? Surely it is never that foreign monkey -again? What are you animals doing?" he exclaimed, turning towards the -servants. "Run and keep him out, and never let him in again." - -"Old beard, are you dreaming?" foolish Ekimovna interrupted. "Are you -blind? It is the royal sledge. The Tsar has come." - -Gavril Afanassievitch rose hurriedly from the table. Everybody rushed -to the windows; and positively saw the emperor ascending the steps -leaning on the arm of his orderly. There was a great commotion. The -host rushed to meet Peter; the servants flew hither and thither as if -mad; the guests were alarmed, and some wondered how they might escape. -Suddenly the thunder voice of Peter resounded in the hall. All was -silence as the Tsar entered, accompanied by his host, in a flutter of -joy. - -"How do you do, ladies and gentlemen?" said Peter gaily. - -All made obeisance. The Tsar's sharp eyes sought in this crowd -the host's young daughter. He beckoned to her. Natalia Gavrilovna -approached rather boldly, but blushed not only to her ears but to her -shoulders. - -"You grow prettier every hour," said the Tsar, and according to his -custom kissed her on the head. Then turning to the guests he exclaimed: - -"Why, I have interrupted you! You were dining? I beg you will sit down -again, and to me, Gavril Afanassievitch, give some aniseed vodka." - -The host rushed at the stately butler, snatched from him a tray, -and himself filling a small golden goblet, handed it to the Tsar. -Peter drank it, ate a piece of bread, and again invited the guests -to continue their dinner. All resumed their seats but the dwarf and -the companion, who did not dare to remain at the table honoured by -the presence of the monarch. Peter sat down beside the host and asked -for some shtchee (a cabbage soup). The Tsar's orderly handed him a -wooden spoon inlaid with ivory, a knife and fork with green bone -handles--Peter never used any others but his own. The dinner table -conversation, which a moment before had been boisterously merry, -ended by being forced and scanty. The host from respect and delight -ate nothing; the guests, too, became ceremonious and listened with -reverence to the Tsar as he discussed in German the campaign of 1701 -with the captive Swede. - -The fool, Ekimovna, several times interrogated by the monarch, replied -with a sort of cold timidity, which, by-the-bye, did not in the least -prove her natural folly. - -At last the dinner ended. The monarch rose, and after him all the -guests. - -"Gavril Afanassievitch!" he said, addressing the host. "I want a word -with you alone." Taking his arm, he led him into the drawing-room and -locked the door. The guests remaining in the dining-room whispered -about the unexpected visit, and fearing to intrude, dispersed speedily -without expressing to their host the usual after-dinner thanks. His -father-in-law, daughter, and sister accompanied each in silence to the -door, and remained alone in the dining-room awaiting his Majesty's -departure. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Half an hour later the door opened and Peter came out. With a solemn -bow to the treble salute from Prince Lykoff, Tatiana Afanassievna, and -Natasha, he passed out into the lobby. The host handed him his long -red overcoat, conducted him to the sledge, and on the door steps again -thanked him for the honour he had done him. - -Peter drove off. - -Returning to the dining-room, Gavril Afanassievitch seemed much -troubled; angrily bade the servants clear the table, sent Natasha to -her apartments, and informed his sister and father-in-law that he must -talk with them. He led them into the bedroom, where he usually took his -after-dinner nap. The old Prince lay down upon the oak bed; Tatiana -Afanassievna sat down upon the ancient damask easy chair, and drew the -footstool towards her; Gavril Afanassievitch locked all the doors and -sat down at Prince Lykoffs feet. In a low voice he began: - -"The Tzar had a reason for coming here to-day. Guess what it was." - -"How can we know, dear brother?" replied Tatiana Afanassievna. - -"Has he commanded you to a voievod?" asked his father-in-law. It is -time he did so long ago. Or he has proposed a mission to you? Why not? -Not always clerks. Important people are sometimes sent to foreign -monarchs. - -"No," replied his son-in-law, scowling. "I am a man of the old pattern; -our services are not required in the present day, though perhaps an -Orthodox Russian nobleman is superior to modern upstarts, pancake -hawkers, and Mussulmen. But that is a different matter." - -"Then what was it, brother?" asked Tatiana Afanassievna crossing, -herself. - -"The maiden is ready for marriage, the bridegroom must be in keeping -with the proposer. God grant them love and discretion; of honour there -is plenty." - -"On whose behalf then does the Tzar propose?" - -"Hum, whose? indeed!" exclaimed Gavril Afanassievitch. "Whose! That is -just the point." - -"Whose?" repeated Prince Lykoff half dozing already. - -"Guess," said Gavril Afanassievitch. - -"Dear brother," replied the old lady, "how can we guess? There are many -gentlemen at court. Any one of them would be delighted to marry your -Natasha. Is it Dolgoruki?" - -"No, not Dolgoruki." - -"The Lord be with him, he is so haughty. Shein? Troekuroff?" - -"Neither of them." - -"I don't care for them either. They are flighty and too German. Then it -is Miloslavsky?" - -"No, not he." - -"God be with him, he is rich and stupid. Who then? Is it Eletsky, Lvof? -It cannot be Ragusinski? Well, I cannot imagine. Then whom does the -Tzar wish Natasha to marry?" - -"The Negro Ibrahim." - -The old lady exclaimed and threw up her arms. Prince Lykoff raised -his head from the pillows, and in astonishment repeated: "The negro -Ibrahim?" - -"Dear brother!" said the old lady in a voice full of tears. "Do not -destroy your darling daughter, do not deliver Natashinka into the claws -of the black devil." - -"But how then?" replied Gavril Afanassievitch, "refuse the Tzar, who in -return promises us his protection to me and all our house." - -"What!" exclaimed the old Prince, who was wide awake now. "Natasha, my -granddaughter, to be married to a bought negro?" - -"He's of good birth," said Gavril Afanassievitch, "he is the son of a -negro Sultan. He was not taken prisoner by the Mussulmen but sold at -Constantinople. Our ambassador bought him and presented him to Peter. -The negro's eldest brother came to Russia with a handsome ransom -and----" - -"We have the legend of Bova Koroleviteh and Eruslana Lasarevitch." - -"Gavril Afanassievitch," added the old lady, "tell us rather how you -replied to the Tzar's proposal." - -"I said that he was in authority over us, and that it was our duty to -submit to him in everything." - -At that moment a noise was heard behind the door. Gavril Afanassievitch -went to open it, but something obstructed; he gave a hard push, -the door opened, and he beheld Natasha unconscious lying on the -blood-smeared floor. - -Her heart misgave her when the Tzar was closeted with her father. A -sort of presentiment whispered to her that the matter concerned her; -and when Gavril Afanassievitch bade her to retire, while he conferred -with her aunt and grandfather, she could not resist feminine curiosity, -crawled quietly through the back rooms to the bedroom door, and missed -no word of their terrible conversation. When she heard her father's -last sentence, the poor girl fainted, and falling, struck her head -against the metal-bound chest which held her dowry. - -The servants rushed in, lifted Natasha, carried her to her own suite -of apartments, and laid her upon her bed. After a little she came to -and opened her eyes, but recognised neither father nor aunt. Fever -set in; in her delirium she spoke of marriage and the Tzar's negro, -and suddenly cried in a plaintive and piercing voice: "Valerian, dear -Valerian, my life, save me: There they are, there they are." - -Tatiana Afanassievna glanced anxiously at her brother, who turned -white, bit his lip, and left the room in silence. He returned to the -old Prince, who, unable to mount the stairs, had remained below. - -"How is Natasha?" he asked. - -"Poorly," replied the sad father; "worse than I thought: in her -delirium she raves about Valerian." - -"Who is this Valerian?" inquired the anxious old man. "Can it be the -orphan son of the musketeer whom you brought up in your house?" - -"The same, to my sorrow!" replied Gavril Afanassievitch. "His father -saved my life during the insurrection, and the devil induced me to take -home the accursed young wolf. Two years ago, at his own request, he -was drafted into the army. Natasha cried at parting with him, while he -stood as if turned to stone. I thought it suspicious, and spoke to my -sister about it. But Natasha has never mentioned him since; and nothing -has been heard of him. I hoped she had forgotten him, but it seems not. -I have decided; she shall marry the negro." - -Prince Lykoff did not contradict him; it would have been useless. He -returned home. Tatiana Afanassievna remained by Natasha's bedside. -Gavril Afanassievitch, after sending for the doctor, locked himself in -his own room, and in his house all was still and sad. This unexpected -proposal of marriage surprised Ibrahim, at any rate, quite as much as -it surprised Gavril Afanassievitch. It happened thus. - -Peter, while busy at work with Ibrahim, said to him: - -"I have remarked, my friend, that you are low-spirited; tell me frankly -what it is you want."' - -Ibrahim assured the Tsar that he was contented with his lot, and wished -for nothing better. - -"Good," said the monarch; "if you are sad without a cause, then I know -how to cheer you." - -At the conclusion of their work, Peter inquired of Ibrahim: - -"Do you admire the young lady with whom you danced the minuet at the -last ball?" - -"Sire, she is very nice, and seems a modest, amiable girl." - -"Then you shall make her more intimate acquaintance. Should you like to -marry her?" - -"I, sire?" - -"Listen, Ibrahim; you are a lonely man, without birth or clan, a -stranger to everybody but myself. If I were to die to-day what would -become of you to-morrow, my poor negro? You must get settled while -there is yet time, find support in new ties, connect yourself with the -Russian nobility." - -"Sire, I am contented with you; the protection and favour of your -Majesty. God grant I may not survive my Tsar and benefactor. I desire -nothing more, and even if I had any views of matrimony, would the -young girl or her relations consent? My personal appearance----" - -"Your personal appearance? What nonsense! How, are you not a fine -fellow? A young girl must obey her parent's wishes; but we will see -what old Gavril Rjevski will say when I go myself as your matchmaker." - -With these words the Tsar ordered his sledge, and left Ibrahim wrapped -in deep meditation. - -"Marry," thought the African; "and why not? Surely I am not destined to -pass my life alone, and never know the greatest happiness and the most -sacred duties of manhood, simply because I was born in the torrid zone? -I cannot hope to be loved; what a childish thought! Is it possible to -believe in love? Can it exist in the frivolous heart of woman? The Tsar -is right; I must assure my own future. Marriage with young Rjevski will -unite me to the haughty Russian nobility, and I shall cease to be a -stranger in my new country. From my wife I shall not require love; I -shall content myself with her fidelity and friendship." - -Ibrahim wished to work according to his custom, but his imagination was -too excited. He left the papers, and went out to stroll along the banks -of the Neva. Suddenly he heard Peter's voice, looked round, and saw -the Tsar, who had dismissed his sledge and was following "him with a -lively countenance. - -"It is all settled, my friend," said Peter, taking him by the arm; "I -have betrothed you. Tomorrow, call upon your father-in-law, but be -careful to honour the pride of the _boyar_; leave your sledge at the -gates, and go across the yard on foot, talk to him of his honours and -distinction, and he will be delighted with you. And now," he added, -shaking his cudgel, "take me to the rogue Danileitch, with whom I must -have an interview about his latest pranks." - -Ibrahim thanked Peter most sincerely for his fatherly care, accompanied -him as far as the magnificent mansion of Prince Menshikoff, and -returned home. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Gently burnt the hanging lamp before the glass case, wherein glittered -the gold and silver frames of the ancestral _icons._ The flickering -light lit faintly the curtained bed, and the table strewn with labelled -phials. Near the fireplace sat a servant at her spinning wheel, and -only the light sound of her distaff broke the silence. - -"Who is there?" asked a weak voice. The maid rose instantly, approached -the bed, and quietly raised the curtain. - -"Will it soon be dawn?" asked Natalia. - -"It is already noon," replied the maid. - -"Oh, heavens! and why is it so dark?" - -"The shutters are closed, miss." - -"Then let me dress quickly." - -"You must not, miss; the doctor forbids it." - -"Am I ill then? How long?" - -"Nearly a fortnight now." - -"Is it really so? And it seems to me but last night that I went to bed." - -Natasha was silent; she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. -Something had happened to her, what it was she could not remember. The -maid stood before her, awaiting her orders. At that moment a muffled -sound was heard below. - -"What is it?" asked the patient. - -"The masters have finished dinner," answered the attendant; "they are -rising from table. Tatiana Afanassievna will be here directly." - -Natasha seemed pleased, she waved her feeble hand. The maid dropped the -curtain and resumed her seat at the spinning wheel. - -A few minutes after, a head, covered with a broad white cap with dark -ribbons, peeped through the door and asked in a low voice: - -"How is Natasha?" - -"How do you do, auntie?" said the invalid gently, and Tatiana -Afanassievna hurried towards her. - -"The young lady is conscious," said the maid, cautiously moving up -an easy chair. With tears in her eyes the old lady kissed the pale -languid face of her niece, and sat down beside her. Immediately after -her came the German doctor in a black caftan and learned wig. He -counted Natalia's pulse, and told them first in Latin, then in Russian, -that the crisis was over. He asked for paper and ink, wrote a new -prescription, and departed. The old lady rose, kissed Natalia again, -and at once went down with the good news to Gavril Afanassievitch. - -In the drawing-room in full uniform, with sword and hat in hand, sat -the royal negro, talking respectfully with Gavril Afanassievitch. -Korsakoff, stretched full length upon a downy couch, reclined, -listening to their conversation while he teased the greyhound. Tired of -this occupation, he approached a mirror, the usual refuge of the idle, -and in it saw Tatiana Afanassievna behind the door making unperceived -signs to her brother. - -"You are wanted, Gavril Afanassievitch," said Korsakoff to him, -interrupting Ibrahim. - -Gavril Afanassievitch instantly went to his sister, closing the door -behind him. - -"I am astonished at your patience," said Korsakoff to Ibrahim. "A whole -hour have you been listening to ravings about the ancient descent -of the Lykoffs and the Rjevskis, and have even added your own moral -observations. In your place _j'aurais planté la_ the old liar and -all his race, including Natalia Gavrilovna, who is only affected and -shamming illness, _une petite santé._ Tell me truly, is it possible -that you are in love with that little _mijaurée?_" - -"No," replied Ibrahim, "I am of course marrying, not from love, but -from consideration, and that only if she has no actual dislike for me." -"Listen, Ibrahim," said Korsakoff, "for once take my advice; really I -am wiser than I look. Give up this silly idea--don't marry. It seems -to me that your chosen bride has no particular liking for you. Don't -many things happen in this world? For instance: of course I am not bad -looking, but it has happened to me to deceive husbands who were really -not a whit my inferior. Yourself too.... you remember our Parisian -friend Count L.? A woman's fidelity cannot be counted on. Happy is -he who can bear the change with equanimity. But you! with "your -passionate, brooding, and suspicious nature, with your flat nose, thick -lips, is it with these that you propose to rush into all the dangers of -matrimony?" - -"Thank you for your friendly advice," said Ibrahim, coldly; "you know -the proverb: 'it is not your duty to rock other folk's children.'" - -"Take care, Ibrahim," replied Korsakoff, smiling, "that it does not -fall to your lot to illustrate that proverb literally later on." - -The conversation in the next room waxed hot. - -"You will kill her," the old lady was saying; "she cannot bear the -sight of him." - -"But just consider," replied her obstinate brother. "For a fortnight -now he has been calling as her accepted bridegroom, and hitherto has -not seen his bride. He might think at last that her illness is simply -an invention, and that we are seeking only to gain time in order to get -rid of him. Besides, what will the Tsar say? He has already sent three -times to ask after Natasha. Do as you please, but I do not intend to -fall out with him." - -"My God!" exclaimed Tatiana Afanassievna; "how will she bear it? At any -rate, let me prepare her for this." - -Gavril Afanassievitch consented, and returned to the drawing-room. - -"Thank God!" he said to Ibrahim; "the crisis is over. Natalia is much -better. I do not like to leave our dear guest, Mr. Korsakoff, here -alone> or I would take you upstairs to get a glimpse of your bride." - -Korsakoff congratulated Gavril Afanassievitch, begged them not to put -themselves out on his account, assured them that he was obliged to go, -and rushed into the lobby, whither be refused to allow his host to -follow him. - -Meanwhile, Tatiana Afanassievna hastened to prepare the invalid for the -arrival of her terrible visitor. Entering the apartments, she sat down -breathless by the bedside and took Natalia by the hand. But before she -had time to say a word, the door opened. - -"Who has come in?" Natasha asked. - -The old lady felt faint, Gavril Afanassievitch drew back the curtain, -looked coldly at the patient, and inquired how she was. The sick girl -tried to smile but could not. Her father's stern gaze startled her, and -fear overcame her. She fancied some one stood at the head of her bed. -With an effort she raised her head and instantly recognised the Tsar's -negro. At that moment she remembered all, and all the horror of the -future presented itself before her. But exhausted nature could receive -no further perceptible shock. Natasha dropped her head back on the -pillow and closed her eyes, her heart within her gave sickly throbs. -Tatiana Afanassievna signed to her brother that the patient wanted to -go to sleep, and everybody left the apartments quietly. The maid alone -remained and resumed her seat. - -The unhappy beauty opened her eyes, and seeing no one by her bedside, -called the maid and sent her for the dwarf. But at that moment an old, -round creature, like a ball, rolled up to her bed. Tie Swallow (so -the dwarf was nicknamed) had rushed as fast as her short legs would -carry her up the stairs after Gavril Afanassievitch and Ibrahim, and -hid behind the door. Natasha saw her and sent the maid away. The dwarf -sat down on a stool by the bedside Never had so small a body contained -so active a soul. She interfered in everything, knew everything, and -exerted herself about everything. With cunning penetration she knew how -to gain the affection of her masters, and the envy of all the household -over which she wielded autocratic sway. Gavril Afanassievitch listened -to her tales, complaints, and petty requests. Tatiana Afanassievna -asked her opinion every moment and took her advice, while Natasha's -affection for her was unbounded. She confided to her all the thoughts, -all the impulses of her sixteen-year-old heart. - -"Do you know, Swallow," she said, "my father is going to marry me to -the negro." The dwarf sighed deeply, and her wrinkled face became more -wrinkled. - -"Is there no hope?" added Natasha. "Do you think my father will not -have compassion upon me?" - -The dwarf shook her cap. - -"Won't grandfather intercede for me, or my aunt." - -"No, miss, the negro during your illness managed to bewitch everybody. -Master is mad about him, the prince dreams of him alone, and Tatiana -Afanassievna says it is a pity he is a negro, otherwise we could not -wish for a better bridegroom." - -"My God, my God!" sobbed poor Natasha. - -"Don't grieve, dear beauty," said the dwarf, kissing her feeble -hand. "If you must marry the negro, at any rate you will be your own -mistress. Now it is not as it was in olden times; husbands no longer -imprison their wives; the negro is said to be rich, the house will be -like a full cup--you'll live merrily." - -"Poor Valerian," said Natasha, but so low, that the dwarf only guessed -but did not hear the words. - -"That is just it, miss," she said mysteriously, lowering her voice; "if -you thought less of the sharpshooter's orphan you would not rave of him -in your delirium, and your father would not be angry." - -"What!" inquired Natasha, in alarm; "I raved about Valerian? My father -heard? My father was angry?" - -"That is the misfortune," replied the dwarf. "Now, if you ask him not -to marry you to the negro, he will think Valerian is the cause. There -is nothing to be done, you had better submit, and what is to be will -be." - -Natasha made no reply. The notion that the secret of her heart was -known to her father had a powerful effect upon her mind. One hope only -was left to her--that she might die before the completion of this -hateful marriage. This idea comforted her. With a weak and sad heart -she resigned herself to her fate. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -In Gavril Afanassievitch's house opening from the hall on the right was -a a narrow room with one window. In it stood a simple bed covered with -a blanket. Before the bed stood a small table of pine wood, on which a -tallow candle burnt, and a book of music lay open. On the wall hung an -old blue uniform and its contemporary, a three-cornered hat; above it -nailed to the wall with three nails hung a picture representing Charles -XII. on horseback. The notes of a flute sounded through this humble -abode. The captive dancing-master, its solitary occupant, in a skull -cap and cotton dressing-gown, was enlivening the dulness of a winter's -evening practising some strange Swedish, marches. After devoting two -whole hours to this exercise the Swede took his flute to pieces, packed -it in a box, and began to undress. - - - - -THE GYPSIES, - -NARRATIVE AND DRAMATIC POEM. - - -A noisy band of gypsies are wandering through. Bessarabia. To-day they -will pitch their ragged tents on the banks of the river. Sweet as -freedom is their nights rest, peaceful their slumber. - -Between the cart wheels, half screened by rugs, burns a fire around -which the family is preparing supper. In the open fields graze the -horses, and behind the tents a tame bears lies free. In the heart of -the desert all is movement with the preparations for the morning's -march, with the songs of the women, the cries of the children, and the -sound of the itinerant anvil. But soon upon the wandering band falls -the silence of sleep, and the stillness of the desert is broken only by -the barking of the dogs and the neighing of the horses. - -The fires are everywhere extinguished, all is calm; the moon shines -solitary in the sky, shedding its light over the silent camp. - -In one of the tents is an old man who does not sleep, but remains -seated by the embers, warming himself by their last glow. He gazes -into the distant steppes, which are now wrapped in the mists of night. -His youthful daughter has wandered into the distant plains. She is -accustomed to her wild freedom; she will return. But night wears on, -and the moon in the distant clouds is about to set. Zemphira tarries, -and the old man's supper is getting cold. But here she comes, and, -following on her footsteps, a youth, a stranger to the old gypsy. - -"Father," says the maiden, "I bring a guest; I found him beyond the -tombs in the steppes, and I have invited him to the camp for the night. -He wishes to become a gypsy like us. He is a fugitive from the law. But -I will be his companion. He is ready to follow wherever I lead." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "I am glad. Stay in the shelter of our camp till -morning, or longer it thou wilt. I am-ready to share with thee both -bread and roof. Be one of us. Make trial of our life; of our wandering, -poverty, and freedom. To-morrow, at daybreak, in one van, we will go -together. Choose thy trade: forge iron, or sing songs, leading the bear -from village to village." - -_Aleko:_ "I will remain." - -_Zemphira_: "He is mine; who shall take him from me? But it is late.... -the young moon has set, the fields are hidden in darkness, and sleep -overpowers me." - -Day breaks. The old man moves softly about the silent camp. - -"Wake, Zemphira, the sun is rising; awake, my guest. 'Tis time, tis -time! Leave, my children, the couch of slothfulness." - -Noisily the clustering crowd expands; the tents are struck; the vans -are ready to start. All is movement, and the horde advances over the -desert. - -Asses with paniers full of sportive children lead the way; husbands, -brothers, wives, daughters, young and old, follow in their wake. What -shouting and confusion! Gypsy songs are mingled with the growling -of the bear, impatiently gnawing at his chain. What a motley of -bright-coloured rags! The naked children! The aged men! Dogs bark and -howl, the bagpipes drone, the carts creak. All is so poor, so wild, -so disorderly, but full of the life and movement ever absent from our -dead, slothful, idle life, monotonous as the songs of slaves. - -The youth gazes disheartened over the desert plain. The secret cause of -his sadness he admits not even to himself. By his side is the dark-eyed -Zemphira. Now he is a free inhabitant of the world, and radiant above -him shines the sun in midday glory. Why, then, does the youth's heart -tremble--what secret sorrow preys upon him? - -God's little bird knows neither care nor labour, Why should it strive -to build a lasting nest? The night is long, but a branch suffices for -its sleeping place. When the sun comes in his glory, birdie hears the -voice of God, flutters his plumage, and sings his song. After spring, -Nature's fairest time, comes hot summer. Late autumn follows, bringing -mist and cold. Poor men and women are sad and dismal. To distant lands, -to warmer climes beyond the blue sea, flies birdie to the spring. Like -a little careless bird is the wandering exile. For him there is no -abiding nest, no home! Every road is his; at each stopping-place is his -night's lodging. Waking at dawn, he leaves his day at God's disposal, -and the toil of life disturbs not his calm, indolent heart. At times, -glory's enchantment, like a distant star, attracts his gaze; or sudden -visions of luxury and pleasure float before him. Sometimes above his -solitary head growls the thunder, and beneath the thunder, as beneath a -peaceful sky, he sleeps serene. And thus he lives, ignoring the power -of blind treacherous Fate. But once, oh God! how passion played with -his obedient soul! How it raged in his tormented breast! Is it long, -and for how long, that it has left him calm? It will rage again; let -him but wait! - -_Zemphira_: "Friend, tell me, dost thou not regret what thou hast left -for ever?" - -_Aleko_: "What have I left?" - -_Zemphira:_ "Thou knowest; thy people, thy cities." - -_Aleko:_ "Regret? If thou knewest, if thou could'st imagine the -confinement of our stifling towns! There people crowded behind walls -never breathe the cool breeze of the morning, nor the breath of -spring-scented meadows. They are ashamed to love, and chase away the -thought. They traffic with liberty, bow their heads to idols, and beg -for money and chains. What have I left? The excitement of treason, the -prejudged sentence, the mob's mad persecution or splendid infamy." - -_Zemphira:_ "But there thou hadst magnificent palaces, many coloured -carpets, entertainments, and loud revels; and the maiden's dresses are -so rich!" - -_Aleko:_ "What is there to please in our noisy towns? The genuine -love, no veritable joy. The maidens. How much dost thou surpass them, -without their rich apparel, their pearls, or their necklaces! Be true, -my gentle friend! My sole wish is to share with thee love, leisure, and -this self-sought exile." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Thou lovest us, though born amongst the rich.. But -freedom is not always agreeable to those used to luxury. We have a -legend:-- - -"Once a king banished a man from the South to live amongst us--I once -knew but have forgotten his difficult name--though old in years he was -youthful, passionate, and simple-hearted. He had a wondrous gift of -song, with a voice like running waters. Everyone liked him. He dwelt -on the banks of the Danube, harming no one, but pleasing many with his -stories. He was helpless, weak, and timid as a child. Strangers brought -him game and fish caught in nets. When the rapid river froze and -winter storms raged high, they clad the saintly old man in soft warm -furs. But he could never be inured to the hardships of a poor man's -life. He wandered about pale and thin, declaring that an offended God -was chastening him for some crime. He waited, hoping for deliverance, -and full of sad regret. The wretched man wandered on the banks of the -Danube shedding bitter tears, as he remembered his distant home, and, -dying, he desired that his unhappy bones should be carried to the -South. Even in death the stranger to these parts could find no rest." - -_Aleko:_ "Such is thy children's fate, O Borne, O world-famed Empire! -Singer of love, singer of the gods, say what is glory? The echo from -the tomb, the voice of praise continued from generation to generation, -or a tale told by a gypsy in his smoky tent?" - - * * * * * - -Two years passed. The peaceful gypsy band still wanders, finding -everywhere rest and hospitality. Scorning the fetters of civilisation, -Aleko is free, like them; without regret or care he leads a wandering -life. He is unchanged, unchanged the gypsy band. Forgetful of his past, -he has grown used to a gypsy life. He loves sleeping under their tents, -the delight of perpetual idleness, and their poor but sonorous tongue. -The bear, a deserter from his native haunts, is now a shaggy guest -within his tent. In the villages along the deserted route that passes -in front of some Moldavian dwelling, the bear dances clumsily before -a timid crowd and growls and gnaws his tiresome chain. Leaning on his -staff the old man lazily strikes the tambourine; Aleko, singing, leads -the bear; Zemphira makes the round of the villagers, collecting their -voluntary gifts; when night sets in all three prepare the corn they -have not reaped, the old man sleeps, and all is still.... The tent is -quiet and dark. - -In the spring the old man is warming his numbed blood; at a cradle his -daughter sings of love. Aleko listens, and turns pale. - -_Zemphira_: "Old husband, cruel husband, cut me, burn me, I am firm, -and fear neither knife nor fire. I hate thee, despise thee; I love -another, and loving him will die." - -_Aleko:_ "Silence, thy singing annoys me. I dislike wild songs." - -_Zemphira:_ "Dislike them? And what do I care! I am singing for myself. -Cut me, burn me, I will not complain. Old husband, cruel husband, thou -shalt not discover him. He is fresher than the spring, warmer than -the summer-day. How young and bold he is! How much he loves me! How I -caressed him in the stillness of the night! How we laughed together at -thy white hair." - -_Aleko:_ "Silence, Zemphira. Enough!" - -_Zemphira:_ "Then thou hast understood my song." - -_Aleko:_ "Zemphira!" - -_Zemphira_: "Be angry if thou wilt.... the song is about thee." (_She -retires singing_, "_Old husband, &c._") - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Yes, I remember; that song was made in my time, and -has long been sung for folk's amusement. Marioula used; as we wandered -over the Kagula Steppes, to sing it in the winter nights. The memory of -past years grows fainter hourly, but that song impressed me deeply." -. . . . . . . . . . . All is still. It is night, and the moon casts a -sheen over the blue of the southern sky. Zemphira has awakened the old -man. - -"Oh, father! Aleko is terrible; listen to him! In his heavy sleep he -groans and sobs." - -_The Old Gypsy_: "Do not disturb him, keep quiet. I have heard a -Russian saying that at this time, at midnight, the house spirit often -oppresses a sleeper's breathing, and before dawn quits him again. Stay -with me." - -_Zemphira:_ "Father, he murmurs Zemphira!" - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "He seeks thee even in his sleep. Thou art dearer to -him than all the world." - -_Zemphira_: "I care no longer for his love; I am weary, my heart wants -freedom. I have already--But hush! dost thou hear? He repeats another -name." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Whose name?" - -_Zemphira:_ "Dost thou not hear? The hoarse groan, the savage grinding -of his teeth! How terrible! I will rouse him." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "No, don't chase away the night spirit; it will leave -him of its own accord!" - -_Zemphira:_ "He has turned, and raised himself; he calls me, he is -awake. I will go to him. Good night, and sleep." - -_Aleko:_ "Where hast thou been?" - -_Zemphira:_ "With my father. Some spirit has oppressed thee. In sleep -thy soul has suffered tortures. Thou didst frighten me; grinding thy -teeth and calling out to me." - -_Aleko:_ "I dreamt of thee, and saw as if between us.... I had horrible -thoughts." - -_Zemphira:_ "Put no faith in treacherous dreams." - -_Aleko:_ "Alas! I believe in nothing Neither in dreams, nor in sweet -assurances, nor in thy heart." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Young madman. Why dost thou sigh so often? We here -are free. The sky is clean, the women famous for their beauty. Weep -not. Grief will destroy thee." - -_Aleko:_ "Father! she loves me no more." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Be comforted, friend. She is but a child. Thy sadness -is unreasonable. Thou lovest anxiously and earnestly, but a woman's -heart loves playfully. Behold, through the distant vault the full moon -wanders free, throwing her light equally over all the world. First -she peeps into one cloud, lights it brilliantly, and then glides to -another, making to each a rapid visit. Who shall point out to her one -spot in the heavens and say, 'There shalt thou stay'? Who to the young -girl's heart shall say, 'Love only once and change not'? Be pacified." - -_Aleko:_ "How she loved me! How tenderly she leant upon me in the -silent desert when we were together in the hours of night! Full of -child-like gaiety, how often, with her pleasant prattle or intoxicating -caress, has she in an instant chased away my gloom! And now, Zemphira -is false! My Zemphira is cold!" - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Listen, and I will tell thee a story about myself. -Long, long ago, before the Danube was threatened by the Muscovite (thou -seest, Aleko, I speak of an ancient sorrow), at a time when we feared -the Sultan who, through Boodjak Pasha, ruled the country from the lofty -towers of Ackerman. I was young then, and my bosom throbbed with the -passion of youth. My curly locks were not streaked with white. Among -the young beauties there was one.... To whom I turned as to the sun, -till at last I called her mine. Alas! like a falling star, my youth -swiftly sped. Still briefer was our love. Marioula loved me but one -year." - -"One day, by the waters of Kagula, we encountered a strange band of -gypsies, who pitched their tents near ours at the foot of the hill. -Two nights we passed together. On the third, they left, and Marioula -forsook her little daughter and followed them. I slept peacefully. -Day broke, and I awoke; my companion was not there. I searched, I -called--no trace remained. Zemphira cried, I wept too! From that moment -I became indifferent to all womankind. Never since has my gaze sought -amongst them a new companion. My dreary hours I have spent alone." - -_Aleko:_ "What! Didst thou not instantly pursue the ingrate and her -paramour, to plunge thy dagger in their false hearts?" - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Why should I? Youth is freer than the birds. Who can -restrain love? Everyone has his turn of happiness. Once fled, it will -never return." - -_Aleko:_ "No, I am different. Without a struggle never would I yield -my rights. At least, I would enjoy revenge. Ah, no! Even if I were to -find my enemy lying asleep over the abyss of the sea, I declare that -even then my foot should not spare him, but should unflinchingly kick -the helpless villain into the depths of the ocean, and mock his sudden -terrible awakening with a savage laugh of exultation. Long would his -fall resound a sweet and merry echo in my ears." . . . . . . . _A Young -Gypsy_: "One kiss, just one more embrace." - -_Zemphira:_ "My husband is jealous and angry. I must go!" - -_The Young Gypsy_: "Once more.... a longer one.... at parting." - -_Zemphira:_ "Good-bye. Here he comes." - -_The Young Gypsy:_ "Tell me. When shall we meet again?" - -_Zemphira:_ "To-night, when the moon rises over the hill beyond the -tombs." - -_The Young Gypsy:_ "She is deceiving me; she will not come." - -_Zemphira_: "Run--there he is! I will be there, beloved!" - -Aleko sleeps, and in his mind dim visions play. With a cry he wakes in -the dark, and, stretching out his jealous arm, clutches with a startled -hand the cold bed. His companion is far away..... Trembling he sits up -and listens.... All is quiet! Fear comes upon him. He shivers, then -grows hot. Rising from his bed, he leaves the tent, and, terribly -pale, wanders round the vans. All is silent, the fields are still, -and it is dark. The moon has risen in a mist, and the twinkling stars -are scarcely seen. But on the dewy grass slight footprints can be -discovered, leading to the tombs. With hurried tread he follows on the -path made by the ill-omened footmarks. - -In the distance, on the road side, a tomb shines white before him. -Carried along by his hesitating feet, full of dread presentiment, -his lips quivering, his knees trembling ... he proceeds ... when -suddenly ... can it be a dream? Suddenly he perceives two shadows close -together, and hears two voices whispering over the desecrated grave. - -_The First Voice_: "'Tis time." - -_The Second Voice_: "Wait." - -_The First Voice_: "'Tis time, my love." - -_The Second Voice_: "No, no! We will wait till morning." - -_The First Voice_: "'Tis late already." - -_The Second Voice_ "How timidly thou lovest! One moment more." - -_The First Voice_: "Thou wilt destroy me!" - -_The Second Voice_: "One moment!" - -_The First Voice_: "If my husband wakes and I am not----" - -_Aleko:_ "I am awake. Whither are you going? Don't hurry; you both are -well here--by the grave." - -_Zemphira_: "Run, run, my friend." - -_Aleko:_ "Stop! Whither goest thou, my beautiful youth? Lie there!" -(_He plunges his knife into him._) - -_Zemphira:_ "Aleko!" - -_The Young Gypsy:_ "I am dying!" - -_Zemphira:_ "Aleko, thou wouldst kill him! Look, thou art covered with -blood! Oh, what hast thou done?" - -_Aleko:_ "Nothing; thou canst now enjoy his love." - -_Zemphira:_ "Enough, I do not fear thee! Thy threats I despise, and thy -deed of murder I curse." - -_Aleko:_ "Then die thyself!" - -_Zemphira:_ "I die, loving him." . . . . . . . From the east the -light of day is shining. Beyond the hill Aleko, besmeared with blood, -sits on the grave-stone, knife in hand. Two corpses lie before him. -The murderer's face is terrible. An excited crowd of timid gypsies -surrounds him. A grave is being dug. A procession of sorrowing women -approaches, and each in turn kisses the eyes of the dead. The old -father sits apart, staring at his dead daughter in dumb despair. The -corpses are then raised, and into the cold bosom of the earth the young -couple are lowered. From a distance Aleko looks on. When they are -buried, and the last handful of earth thrown over them, without a word -he slowly rolls from off the stone on to the grass. Then the old man -approaches him, and says: - -"Leave us, proud man. We area wild people and have no laws. We neither -torture nor execute. We exact neither tears nor blood, but with a -murderer we cannot live. Thou art not born to our wild life. Thou -wouldst have freedom for thyself alone. The sight of thee would be -intolerable to us; we are a timid, gentle folk. Thou art fierce and -bold. Depart, then; forgive us, and peace be with thee!" - -He ended, and with great clamour all the wandering band arose, and at -once quitted the ill-fated camp and quickly vanished into the distant -desert tract. But one van, covered with old rugs, remained in the fatal -plain standing alone. - -So, at the coming of winter and its morning mists, a flock of belated -cranes rise from a field loudly shrieking and flying to the distant -South, while one sad bird, struck by a fatal shot, with wounded -drooping wing, remains behind. Evening came. By the melancholy van no -fire was lighted; and no one slept beneath its covering of rugs that -night. - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen of Spades and other stories, by -Alexander Pushkin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN OF SPADES, OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 55024-8.txt or 55024-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/2/55024/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Queen of Spades and other stories - -Author: Alexander Pushkin - -Translator: Mrs Sutherland Edwards - -Release Date: July 1, 2017 [EBook #55024] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN OF SPADES, OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -Images generously made available by the Internet Archive. - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.png" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<h1>THE QUEEN OF SPADES</h1> - -<h2>AND OTHER STORIES.</h2> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h2>ALEXANDER PUSHKIN.</h2> - -<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4> - -<h4>MRS. SUTHERLAND EDWARDS.</h4> - -<h4><i>BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED.</i></h4> - -<h5>LONDON:</h5> - -<h5>CROOME & CO.,</h5> - -<h5>322, UPPER STREET, N.</h5> - -<h5>1892</h5> - - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%; font-size: 0.8em;">CONTENTS</p> - - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;margin-left: 10%;"> -BIOGRAPHY OF PUSHKIN <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></span><br /> -THE QUEEN OF SPADES <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_17"> 17</a></span><br /> -THE PISTOL SHOT <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_70"> 70</a></span><br /> -THE SNOWSTORM <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_97"> 97</a></span><br /> -THE UNDERTAKER <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></span><br /> -THE POSTMASTER <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></span><br /> -THE LADY RUSTIC <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></span><br /> -KIRDJALI <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></span><br /> -THE HISTORY OF THE VILLAGE OF GOROHINA <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></span><br /> -PETER THE GREAT'S NEGRO <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></span><br /> -THE GYPSIES <span class="linenum"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></span><br /> -</p> - - -<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 10%; font-size: 0.8em;">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 10%;"> -"THE OLD MAGICIAN CAME AT ONCE" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades001">19</a></span><br /> -"SEATED BEFORE HER LOOKING GLASS" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades002">24</a></span><br /> -"PAUL AND LISAVETA" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades003">27</a></span><br /> -"THERE SHE SHED TEARS" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades004">33</a></span><br /> -"SHE TORE IT INTO A HUNDRED PIECES" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades005">40</a></span><br /> -"A FOOTMAN IN A GREASY DRESSING GOWN" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades006">45</a></span><br /> -"A STRANGE MAN HAD APPEARED" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades007">47</a></span><br /> -"ONE GLANCE SHOWED HER THAT HE WAS NOT THERE" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades_008">52</a></span><br /> -"HERMANN STARTED AND FELL BACKWARDS" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades009">60</a></span><br /> -"HE SAW BEFORE HIM A QUEEN OF SPADES" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades010">67</a></span><br /> -"THE OFFICER SEIZED A BRASS CANDLESTICK" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades011">73</a></span><br /> -"HERE IS A MEMENTO OF OUR DUEL" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades012">78</a></span><br /> -"WE CLUTCHED OUR SWORDS" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades013">80</a></span><br /> -"HIS LIFE AT LAST WAS IN MY HANDS" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades014">83</a></span><br /> -"SILVIO! <i>YOU</i> KNEW SILVIO?" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades015">89</a></span><br /> -"MASHA THREW HERSELF AT HIS FEET" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades016">94</a></span><br /> -"THE LOVERS MET IN THE PINE WOOD" <span class="linenum"> <a href="#spades017">98</a></span><br /> -"SHE BURST INTO TEARS" <span class="linenum"><a href="#spades018">101</a></span><br /> -"A TIME OF GLORY AND DELIGHT" <span class="linenum"><a href="#spades019">113</a></span><br /> -"IN THE IVY BOWER" <span class="linenum"><a href="#spades020">117</a></span><br /> -</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h4><a name="PUSHKIN" id="PUSHKIN">PUSHKIN.</a></h4> - - -<p>Alexander Sergueievitch Pushkin came of a noble family, so ancient that -it was traced back to that Alexander Nevsky who, in the thirteenth -century, gained a great victory over the Swedes upon the ice of the -River Neva, in token whereof he was surnamed "Nevsky" of the Neva.</p> - -<p>His mother, Nadejda Ossipovna Hannibal, was the grand-daughter of -Abraham Petrovitch Hannibal, Peter the Great's famous negro. His -father, Surguei Lvovitch Pushkin, was a frivolous man of pleasure.</p> - -<p>The poet was born on the 26th of May, 1799, at Moscow. He was an -awkward and a silent child. He was educated by French tutors. A poor -scholar, he read with eagerness whatever he could get in his father's -library, chiefly the works of French authors. His brother states -that at eleven years old Pushkin knew French literature by heart. -This cannot, of course, be taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> literally; but it shows under what -influence he grew up. In October, 1811, he entered the Lyceum of -Tsarskoe Selo. Among the students a society was soon formed, whose -members were united by friendship and by a taste for literature. They -brought out several periodicals, in which tales and poems formed the -chief features. Of this society (the late Prince Gortchakoff belonged -to it) Pushkin was the leading spirit. His first printed poem appeared -in the <i>Messenger of Europe</i> in 1814. At a public competition in 1815, -at which the veteran poet Derjavin was present, Pushkin read his -"Memories of Tsarskoe Selo." This poem, which contains many beautiful -passages, so delighted Derjavin, that he wished to embrace the young -author; but Pushkin fled in confusion from the hall.</p> - -<p>In June, 1817, Pushkin's free and careless student life ended. After -finishing his course at the Lyceum he went to St. Petersburg, and, -though he entered thoroughly into the dissipated pleasures of its -turbulent youth, he still clung to the intellectual society of such men -as Jukovsky and Karamsin, men occupied in literature, whose friendship -he valued very highly.</p> - -<p>At that time society was much disturbed. Political clubs were -everywhere being formed. In every drawing-room new views were freely -and openly advanced; and in these discussions the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> satire and brilliant -verse of Pushkin attracted general attention. These at last brought -him into great danger. But Karamsin came to his rescue, and managed -to get him an appointment at Ekaterinoslavl, in the office of the -Chief Inspector of the Southern Settlements. There he remained till -1824, travelling from place to place, first with the Raevskys to the -Caucasus, and thence again with them through the Crimea. This journey -gave him materials for his "Prisoner of the Caucasus," and "Fountain of -Bachtchisarai." Both poems reveal the influence of Byron.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of 1820 he went to Bessarabia with his chief, who had -just been appointed viceroy of the province. Once, on account of some -quarrel, this person, Insoff by name, sent Pushkin to Ismail. There the -poet joined a band of gypsies and remained with them for some time in -the Steppes. In 1823 he went to Odessa, having been transferred to the -office of the new governor-general, Count Vorontsoff, who succeeded -Insoff.</p> - -<p>Here he wrote part of "Evguenie Onegin," a sort of Russian "Don Juan," -full of sublime passages and varied by satire and bitter scorn. This -work has lately been formed the subject of a very successful opera -by Tchaikovski, who took from Pushkin's poems a story now known and -admired by every educated Russian.</p> - -<p>The poet, however, did not get on with his new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> chief. A scathing -epigram upon Vorontsoff led the count to ask for Pushkin's removal from -Odessa, "where," he said, "excessive flattery had turned the young -maids head."</p> - -<p>Pushkin had to resign; and early in August, 1824, he was sent into -retirement to live under the supervision of the local authorities at -Michailovskoe, a village belonging to his father in the province of -Pskoff. Here the elder Pushkin kept a petty watch over his son, whom he -regarded as a perverted nature and, indeed, a kind of monster.</p> - -<p>In October, however, the father left Michailovskoe, and the poet -remained alone with Arina Rodionovna, an old woman who had nursed -him in childhood, and whose tales had first inspired him with a love -of Russian popular poetry. At Michailovskoe, Pushkin continued his -"Evguenie Onegin," finished "The Gypsies," and wrote the drama of -"Boris Godunoff." Here he lived more than two years—years of seclusion -following a long period of town life and dissipation.</p> - -<p>These two years spent in the simple, pleasant company of country -neighbours proved a turning point in his career. Now for the first time -he had leisure to look about him, to meditate, and to rest.</p> - -<p>He had come into the country with a passionate love for everything -that showed the feeling or fancy of the Russian peasant. His taste -for popular poetry was insatiable. He listened to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> old nurse's -stories, collected and noted down songs, studied the habits and customs -of Russian villages, and began a serious study of Russian history. -All this helped greatly to develop the popular side of his genius. He -afterwards relinquished his earlier models of the romantic school, and -sought a simpler, truer inspiration in the pages of Shakespeare.</p> - -<p>Writing to a friend, Bashkin says that he has brought up from the -country to Moscow the two last cantos of "Evguenie Onegin," ready for -the press, a poem called "The Little House at Kolomna," and several -dramatic scenes, including "The Miser Knight," "Mozart and Salieri," -"The Beast during the Plague" and "The Commander's Statue."</p> - -<p>"Besides that," he goes on to say, "I have written about thirty short -poems, Nor is that, all, I have also (a great secret) written some -prose—five short tales."</p> - -<p>Fortunately for him, Pushkin was living in the country, when, in -December, 1825, the insurrection and military revolt against the -Emperor Nicholas, who had just ascended the throne, broke out at St. -Petersburg.</p> - -<p>Pushkin was affiliated to the secret society, with Pestle and Ryleieff -at its head, which had organised the rebellion; and, on receiving -a summons from his confederates, he started for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> capital. So, -at least, says Alexander Herzen in his curious "Development of -Revolutionary Ideas in Russia." On leaving his country house, Pushkin -met three ill omens. First a hare crossed his path, next he saw a -priest, and, finally, he met a funeral. He went on, however, towards -Moscow, and there learned that the insurrection had been crushed. The -five principal leaders were executed, and whole families were exiled to -Siberia.</p> - -<p>In September, 1826, the Emperor Nicholas had an interview with Pushkin -at Moscow. Pushkin replied simply and frankly to all the Tsar's -questions, and the latter at last promised in future to be himself sole -censor of the poet's works.</p> - -<p>Pushkin remained at Moscow till about the end of the winter of 1827, -when he was allowed to go to St. Petersburg. There he afterwards -chiefly resided, returning sometimes to the country to work, usually in -autumn, when his power of production, he said, was strongest.</p> - -<p>In the summer of 1829 Pushkin visited the Army of the Caucasus then -operating against the Turks. He describes his experiences in his -"Journey to Erzeroum."</p> - -<p>On the 18th of February, 1831, he married Natalia Nikolaevna -Gontcharova, and soon afterwards received a Foreign Office appointment -with a salary of 5,000 roubles.</p> - -<p>In August, 1833, meaning to write a novel on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> the Pugatcheff -Insurrection, Pushkin paid a short visit to Kazan and Orenburg to -acquaint himself with the locality and collect materials. But his tale, -"The Captain's Daughter," appeared considerably later.</p> - -<p>Pushkin and his wife were invited to the court balls, and the Emperor -was very gracious and attentive to the poet.</p> - -<p>This roused the jealousy of the court nobles, though in descent -Pushkin was not inferior to many of them. The studied hauteur of these -personages caused the poet much irritation, and led him to waste much -energy on petty struggles for social precedence. He was, moreover, -constantly in lack of means to meet the expenses attending his -position. Partly on this account he undertook, in 1836, the editorship -of the <i>Contemporary Review</i>, and continued it until his death. In -the four numbers issued under his care, Pushkin published original -articles, besides the translations then so much in vogue.</p> - -<p>All the publications of that time were made to serve the personal aims -of their editor. It was useless to seek in them impartiality. Pushkin's -criticism, however, were independent, and for this reason they made -a deep impression. On starting his Review he had taken great care -to entrust the criticism to a small circle of the most accomplished -writers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<p>Pushkin's correspondence throws full light on his character, and -reveals it as frank, sincere, and independent. His letters show that he -had original ideas on literature, on contemporary politics, on social -and domestic relations, and, in short, on every subject. These views -were always clear and independent of party.</p> - -<p>During his later years the poet felt a longing for the country. As -early as 1835 he petitioned for some years' leave in order that he -might retire from the capital. In his last poem, "To my Wife," he says -how weary he is of noisy town existence and how he longs for rest.</p> - -<p>At the end of 1836 scandals were circulated at St. Petersburg about -his wife. Dantès von Heckeeren, an officer in the Horse Guards, began -openly to pay her attention. Pushkin and many of his friends received -anonymous letters maliciously hinting at Dantès success. Dantès's -father, a dissipated old man, threw oil upon the flames. Meeting Madame -Pushkin in society, he did his best to make her quarrel with, and leave -her husband.</p> - -<p>All this being repeated to Pushkin, greatly incensed him. He challenged -young Heckeeren, but the latter made an offer to Madame Pushkin's -sister, and married her. This did little to mend matters. Pushkin -withdrew the challenge, but nursed his hatred for Dantès, and would not -receive him in his house.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> - -<p>Meanwhile the scandal grew, and the two Heckeerens continued their -persecution of Madame Pushkin. In society, Dantès was said to have -married the sister-in-law only to pay court to the wife. Pushkin, -always convinced of his wife's innocence, showed for her the -tenderest consideration. He wrote, however, a very insulting letter -to old Heckeeren after which a duel between Pushkin and the son -became inevitable. It was fought on the banks of the Black Elver, -near the commandant of St. Petersburg's summer residence. After it -Dantès Heckeeren, no longer able to remain in Russia, resigned his -commission and went to France, where he took up politics, and, as Baron -d'Heckeeren, was known as a senator in the Second Empire.</p> - -<p>Pushkin was already wounded in the body when he fired at Dantès, and -hit the arm with which Dantès had guarded his breast.</p> - -<p>"At six o'clock in the afternoon," writes Jukovsky, to the poet's -father, "Alexander was brought home in a hopeless condition by -Lieutenant—Colonel Dansasse, the old schoolfellow who had acted as his -second. The butler carried him from the carriage into the house.</p> - -<p>"It grieves you, my friend," said Pushkin, "to see me thus?" Then he -asked for clean linen. While he was undressing, Madame Pushkin, not -knowing what had happened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> wished to come in. But her husband called -out loudly, "<i>N'entrez pas, il y a du monde chez moi.</i>" He was afraid -of alarming her. She was not admitted till he was already lying on the -couch.</p> - -<p>"How happy I am," were his first words to her; "I am still alive, with -you by my side. Be comforted, you are not to blame. I know it was not -your fault." Meanwhile he did not let her know that his wound was -serious. Doctors were sent for—Scholtz and Sadler came. Pushkin asked -everyone to leave the room.</p> - -<p>"I am in a bad way," he said, holding out his hand to Scholtz. After -examining him Sadler went off to fetch the necessary instruments. Left -alone with Scholtz, Pushkin inquired what he thought of his condition.</p> - -<p>"Tell me candidly."</p> - -<p>"You are in danger."</p> - -<p>"Say, rather, that I am dying."</p> - -<p>"It is my duty not to conceal from you even that," replied Scholtz. -"But we shall have the opinion of the other doctors who have been sent -for."</p> - -<p>"<i>Je vous remercie; vous avez agi en honnête homme envers moi,</i>" said -Pushkin; adding after a pause, "<i>Il faut que j'arrange ma maison</i>."</p> - -<p>"Do you wish to see any of your family?" asked Scholtz.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Farewell, my friends," said Pushkin, looking towards his books.</p> - -<p>Whether at that moment he was taking leave of animate or inanimate -friends I know not. After another pause, he said:</p> - -<p>"Do you think I shall not last another hour?"</p> - -<p>"No. But I thought you might like to see some of your friends."</p> - -<p>He asked for several. When Spaski (another doctor) came near and tried -to give him hope, Pushkin waved his hand in dissent, and from that -moment apparently ceased to think about himself. All his anxiety was -for his wife. By this time Prince and Princess Viasemsky, Turgueneff, -Count Vielgorsky, and myself had come. Princess Viasemsky was with the -wife, who, in terrible distress, glided like a spectre in and out of -the room where her husband lay. He was on a couch with his back to the -window and door, and unable to see her; though every time she entered -or merely stood in the doorway he was conscious of it.</p> - -<p>"Is my wife here?" he asked; "take her away." He was afraid to let her -come near him lest she should be pained by his sufferings, though he -bore them with wonderful fortitude.</p> - -<p>"What is my wife doing?" he asked once of Spaski. "She, poor thing, is -suffering innocently. Society will devour her!"</p> - -<p>"I have been in thirty battles," said Dr. Arendt;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> "and I have seen -many men die, but very few like him."</p> - -<p>It was strange how in those last hours of his existence he seemed to -have changed. The storm which only a few hours before had raged so -fiercely in him had disappeared, leaving no trace behind. In the midst -of his suffering he recollected that he had the day before received an -invitation to attend the funeral of one of Gretcheff's sons.</p> - -<p>"If you see Gretcheff," he said to Spaski, "give him my kind regards, -and tell him how sincerely I sympathise with him in his affliction."</p> - -<p>Asked to confess and to receive the sacrament, Pushkin assented gladly. -It was settled that the priest should be invited to come in the morning.</p> - -<p>At midnight, Dr. Arendt came from the palace, where he had been to -inform the Emperor. His Majesty was at the theatre, and Arendt left -instructions that on his return the Emperor should be told what had -occurred. About midnight a mounted messenger arrived for Arendt. The -Emperor desired him to go at once to Pushkin, and read to him an -autograph letter which the messenger brought. He was then to hasten to -the palace and report upon Pushkin's condition.</p> - -<p>"I shall not go to bed; I shall wait up for you," wrote the Emperor -Nicholas. "And bring back my letter."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> - -<p>The note was as follows:</p> - -<p>"If it will be the will of God that we shall not meet again, I send -you my pardon, and advise you to receive the last Christian rites. As -to your wife and children, they need cause you no anxiety. I take them -under my own protection."</p> - -<p>The dying man immediately complied with the Emperor's wish. A priest -was sent for from the nearest church. Pushkin confessed and received -the sacrament with great reverence. When Arendt read the Emperor's -letter to him, Pushkin took hold of it and kissed it again and again.</p> - -<p>"Give me the letter; I wish to die with it. The letter; where is the -letter?" he called out to Arendt, who was unable to leave it with him, -but tried to pacify him by promising to ask the Emperor's permission to -bring it back again.</p> - -<p>At five in the morning the patient's anguish grew overpowering. The -sufferer began to groan, and Arendt was again sent for. But all efforts -to soothe the pain were futile. Had his wife heard his cries I am -sure she must have gone mad; she could never have borne the agony. -At the first great cry of pain the Princess Viasemsky, who was in -the room, rushed towards her, fearing the effect. But Madame Pushkin -lay motionless on a sofa close to the door which separated her from -her husband's death-bed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> According to both Spaski and Arendt the -dying man stifled his cries at the moment of supreme anguish, and -only groaned in fear lest his wife might hear him and suffer. To the -last Pushkin's mind remained clear and his memory fresh. Before the -next great paroxysm he asked for a paper in his own writing and had -it burnt. Then he dictated to Dansasse a list of some debts, but this -exertion prostrated him. When, between the paroxysms, some bread sop -was brought, he said to Spaski:</p> - -<p>"My wife! call my wife. Let her give it me."</p> - -<p>She entered, dropped on her knees by his side, and after lifting a -couple of spoonfuls to his mouth, leant her cheek against his. He -caressed and patted her head.</p> - -<p>"Come, come," he said, "I am all right. Thank God, all is going on -well. Go now."</p> - -<p>His calm expression of face and steady voice deceived the poor wife. -She came out of his room bright with hope. He asked for his children. -They were brought in half asleep: He blessed each one, making the sign -of the cross, and placing his hand on their head; then he motioned to -have them taken away. Afterwards he asked for his friends who were -present. I then approached and took his hand, which was already cold, -and inquired if I should give any message to the Emperor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Say that I am sorry I am leaving him. I should have been devoted to -him."</p> - -<p>On the 29th of January, at three in the afternoon, after two days of -excruciating pain, Pushkin died. His death was regarded throughout -Russia as a public calamity. In St. Petersburg disturbances were -feared. It was thought that the people might lynch Heckeeren and his -son. A secret funeral was arranged. The body was carried into the -church late at night in the presence of some friends and relations; -and in the neighbouring courtyards piquets were stationed. After the -service the corpse was despatched to the province of Pskoff, and -was buried in the monastery of the Assumption at Sviatogorsk, near -Pushkin's property at Michailovskoe. The Emperor gave about 150,000 -roubles to pay his debts and to bring out a complete edition of his -works, besides granting a liberal pension to the widow.</p> - -<p>On the 6th of June, 1880, was solemnly unveiled at Moscow a statue of -Pushkin, erected by voluntary subscriptions from all parts of Russia.</p> - -<p>Pushkin was slim and of middle height; in childhood his hair was fair -and curly, but afterwards it turned dark brown. His eyes were light -blue, his smile satirical, but good-natured and pleasant; his clever, -expressive face bore evidence of his African descent, as did his quick -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> passionate nature. He was irritable, but kind and full of feeling; -his conversation sparkled with wit and good humour, and his memory was -prodigious. Pushkin, it has already been said, was of ancient lineage, -but no Russian is sufficiently well-born to marry into the Imperial -family, and when quite recently the Grand Duke Michael, grandson of -the Emperor Nicholas, married without permission the granddaughter -of Pushkin, he caused the liveliest dissatisfaction in the highest -quarters. The bride may console herself by the reflection that her -grandfather was, in the words of Gogol, "a rare phenomenon; a writer -who gave to his country poems so admirable that they attracted the -attention of the whole civilised world; a poet who won respect and -love for the language, for the living Russian types, the customs, and -national character of Russia. Such a writer is indeed a rarity."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3>THE QUEEN OF SPADES.</h3> - -<hr /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> - - -<p>There was a card party at the rooms of Narumoff, a lieutenant in the -Horse Guards. A long winter night had passed unnoticed, and it was five -o'clock in the morning when supper was served. The winners sat down to -table with an excellent appetite; the losers let their plates remain -empty before them. Little by little, however, with the assistance of -the champagne, the conversation became animated, and was shared by all.</p> - -<p>"How did you get on this evening, Surin?" said the host to one of his -friends.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I lost, as usual. I really have no luck. I play <i>mirandole</i>. You -know that I keep cool. Nothing moves me; I never change my play, and -yet I always lose."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say that all the evening you did not once back the red? -Your firmness of character surprises me."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What do you think of Hermann?" said one of the party, pointing to a -young Engineer officer.</p> - -<p>"That fellow never made a bet or touched a card in his life, and yet he -watches us playing until five in the morning."</p> - -<p>"It interests me," said Hermann; "but I am not disposed to risk the -necessary in view of the superfluous."</p> - -<p>"Hermann is a German, and economical; that is the whole of the secret," -cried Tomski. "But what is really astonishing is the Countess Anna -Fedotovna!"</p> - -<p>"How so?" asked several voices.</p> - -<p>"Have you not remarked," said Tomski, "that she never plays?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Narumoff, "a woman of eighty, who never touches a card; -that is indeed something extraordinary!"</p> - -<p>"You do not know why?"</p> - -<p>"No; is there a reason for it?"</p> - -<p>"Just listen. My grandmother, you know, some sixty years ago, went to -Paris, and became the rage there. People ran after her in the streets, -and called her the 'Muscovite Venus.' Richelieu made love to her, and -my grandmother makes out that, by her rigorous demeanour, she almost -drove him to suicide. In those days women used to play at faro. One -evening at the court she lost, on <i>parole,</i> to the Duke of Orleans,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> -a very considerable sum. When she got home, my grandmother removed -her beauty spots, took off her hoops, and in this tragic costume went -to my grandfather, told him of her misfortune, and asked him for the -money she had to pay. My grandfather, now no more, was, so to say, his -wife's steward. He feared her like fire; but the sum she named made him -leap into the air. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> flew into a rage, made a brief calculation, and -proved to my grandmother that in six months she had got through half a -million rubles. He told her plainly that he had no villages to sell in -Paris, his domains being situated in the neighbourhood of Moscow and -of Saratoff; and finally refused point blank. You may imagine the fury -of my grandmother. She boxed his ears, and passed the night in another -room.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades001"></a> -<img src="images/spades_001.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"THE OLD MAGICIAN CAME AT ONCE."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>"The next day she returned to the charge. For the first time in her -life, she condescended to arguments and explanations. In vain did she -try to prove to her husband that there were debts and debts, and that -she could not treat a prince of the blood like her coachmaker.</p> - -<p>"All this eloquence was lost. My grandfather was inflexible. My -grandmother did not know where to turn. Happily she was acquainted with -a man who was very celebrated at this time. You have heard of the Count -of St. Germain, about whom so many marvellous stories were told. You -know that he passed for a sort of Wandering Jew, and that he was said -to possess an elixir of life and the philosopher's stone.</p> - -<p>"Some people laughed at him as a charlatan. Casanova, in his memoirs, -says that he was a spy. However that may be, in spite of the mystery of -his life, St. Germain was much sought after in good society, and was -really an agreeable man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> Even to this day my grandmother has preserved -a genuine affection for him, and she becomes quite angry when anyone -speaks of him with disrespect.</p> - -<p>"It occurred to her that he might be able to advance the sum of which -she was in need, and she wrote a note begging him to call. The old -magician came at once, and found her plunged in the deepest despair. -In two or three words she told him everything; related to him her -misfortune and the cruelty of her husband, adding that she had no hope -except in his friendship and his obliging disposition.</p> - -<p>"'Madam,' said St. Germain, after a few moments' reflection, 'I could -easily advance you the money you want, but I am sure that you would -have no rest until you had repaid me, and I do not want to get you out -of one trouble in order to place you in another. There is another way -of settling the matter. You must regain the money you have lost.'</p> - -<p>"'But, my dear friend,' answered my grandmother, 'I have already told -you that I have nothing left.'</p> - -<p>"'That does not matter,' answered St. Germain. 'Listen to me, and I -will explain.'</p> - -<p>"He then communicated to her a secret which any of you would, I am -sure, give a good deal to possess."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> - -<p>All the young officers gave their full attention. Tomski stopped to -light his Turkish pipe, swallowed a mouthful of smoke, and then went on.</p> - -<p>"That very evening my grandmother went to Versailles to play at the -Queen's table. The Duke of Orleans held the bank. My grandmother -invented a little story by way of excuse for not having paid her debt, -and then sat down at the table, and began to stake. She took three -cards. She won with the first; doubled her stake on the second, and won -again; doubled on the third, and still won."</p> - -<p>"Mere luck!" said one of the young officers.</p> - -<p>"What a tale!" cried Hermann.</p> - -<p>"Were the cards marked?" said a third.</p> - -<p>"I don't think so," replied Tom ski, gravely.</p> - -<p>"And you mean to say," exclaimed Narumoff, "that you have a grandmother -who knows the names of three winning cards, and you have never made her -tell them to you?"</p> - -<p>"That is the very deuce of it," answered Tomski. "She had three sons, -of whom my father was one; all three were determined gamblers, and not -one of them was able to extract her secret from her, though it would -have been of immense advantage to them, and to me also. Listen to what -my uncle told me about it, Count Ivan Ilitch, and he told me on his -word of honour.</p> - -<p>"Tchaplitzki—the one you remember who died<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> in poverty after devouring -millions—lost one day, when he was a young man, to Zoritch about three -hundred thousand roubles. He was in despair. My grandmother, who had no -mercy for the extravagance of young men, made an exception—I do not -know why—in favour of Tchaplitzki. She gave him three cards, telling -him to play them one after the other, and exacting from him at the same -time his word of honour that he would never afterwards touch a card as -long as he lived. Accordingly Tchaplitzki went to Zoritch and asked for -his revenge. On the first card he staked fifty thousands rubles. He -won, doubled the stake, and won again. Continuing his system he ended -by gaining more than he had lost.</p> - -<p>"But it is six o'clock! It is really time to go to bed."</p> - -<p>Everyone emptied his glass and the party broke up.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> - - -<p>The old Countess Anna Fedotovna was in her dressing-room, seated before -her looking-glass. Three maids were in attendance. One held her pot of -rouge, another a box of black pins, a third<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> an enormous lace cap, with -flaming ribbons. The Countess had no longer the slightest pretence to -beauty, but she preserved all the habits of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> youth. She dressed in -the style of fifty years before, and gave as much time and attention to -her toilet as a fashionable beauty of the last century. Her companion -was working at a frame in a corner of the window.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades002"></a> -<img src="images/spades_002.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"SEATED BEFORE HER LOOKING-GLASS."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>"Good morning, grandmother," said the young officer, as he entered the -dressing-room. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Lise. Grandmother, I have -come to ask you a favour."</p> - -<p>"What is it, Paul?"</p> - -<p>"I want to introduce to you one of my friends, and to ask you to give -him an invitation to your ball."</p> - -<p>"Bring him to the ball and introduce him to me there. Did you go -yesterday to the Princess's?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. It was delightful! We danced until five o'clock in the -morning. Mademoiselle Eletzki was charming."</p> - -<p>"My dear nephew, you are really not difficult to please. As to beauty, -you should have seen her grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna. But -she must be very old the Princess Daria Petrovna!"</p> - -<p>"How do you mean old?" cried Tomski thoughtlessly; "she died seven -years ago."</p> - -<p>The young lady who acted as companion raised her head and made a sign -to the officer, who then remembered that it was an understood thing to -conceal from the Princess the death of any of her contemporaries. He -bit his lips. The Countess,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> however, was not in any way disturbed on -hearing that her old friend was no longer in this world.</p> - -<p>"Dead!" she said, "and I never knew it! We were maids of honour in -the same year, and when we were presented, the Empress'"—and the -old Countess related for the hundredth time an anecdote of her young -days. "Paul," she said, as she finished her story, "help me to get up. -Lisaveta, where is my snuff-box?"</p> - -<p>And, followed by the three maids, she went behind a great screen to -finish her toilet. Tomski was now alone with the companion.</p> - -<p>"Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to madame?" asked Lisaveta.</p> - -<p>"Narumoff. Do you know him?"</p> - -<p>"No. Is he in the army?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"In the Engineers?"</p> - -<p>"No, in the Horse Guards. Why did you think he was in the Engineers?"</p> - -<p>The young lady smiled, but made no answer.</p> - -<p>"Paul," cried the Countess from behind the screen, "send me a new -novel; no matter what. Only see that it is not in the style of the -present day."</p> - -<p>"What style would you like, grandmother?"</p> - -<p>"A novel in which the hero strangles neither his father nor his mother, -and in which no one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a><br /><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> gets drowned. Nothing frightens me so much as the -idea of getting drowned."</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades003"></a> -<img src="images/spades_003.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">PAUL AND LISAVETA.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>"But how is it possible to find you such a book? Do you want it in -Russian?"</p> - -<p>"Are there any novels in Russian? However, send me something or other. -You won't forget?"</p> - -<p>"I will not forget, grandmother. I am in a great hurry. Good-bye, -Lisaveta. What made you fancy Narumoff was in the Engineers?" and -Tomski took his departure.</p> - -<p>Lisaveta, left alone, took out her embroidery, and sat down close to -the window. Immediately afterwards, in the street, at the corner of a -neighbouring house, appeared a young officer. The sight of him made the -companion blush to her ears. She lowered her head, and almost concealed -it in the canvas. At this moment the Counters returned, fully dressed.</p> - -<p>"Lisaveta," she said "have the horses put in; we will go out for a -drive."</p> - -<p>Lisaveta rose from her chair, and began to arrange her embroidery.</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear child, are you deaf? Go and tell them to put the horses -in at once."</p> - -<p>"I am going," replied the young lady, as she went out into the -ante-chamber.</p> - -<p>A servant now came in, bringing some books from Prince Paul -Alexandrovitch.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Say I am much obliged to him. Lisaveta! Lisaveta! Where has she run -off to?"</p> - -<p>"I was going to dress."</p> - -<p>"We have plenty of time, my dear. Sit down, take the first volume, and -read to me."</p> - -<p>The companion took the book and read a few lines.</p> - -<p>"Louder," said the Countess. "What is the matter with you? Have you a -cold? Wait a moment; bring me that stool. A little closer; that will -do."</p> - -<p>Lisaveta read two pages of the book.</p> - -<p>"Throw that stupid book away," said the Countess. "What nonsense! Send -it back to Prince Paul, and tell him I am much obliged to him; and the -carriage, is it never coming?</p> - -<p>"Here it is," replied Lisaveta, going to the window.</p> - -<p>"And now you are not dressed. Why do you always keep 'me waiting? It is -intolerable."</p> - -<p>Lisaveta ran to her room. She had scarcely been there two minutes when -the Countess rang with all her might. Her maids rushed in at one door -and her valet at the other.</p> - -<p>"You do not seem to hear me when I ring," she cried. "Go and tell -Lisaveta that I am waiting for her."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<p>At this moment Lisaveta entered, wearing a new walking dress and a -fashionable bonnet.</p> - -<p>"At last, miss," cried the Countess. "But what is that you have got on? -and why? For whom are you dressing? What sort of weather is it? Quite -stormy, I believe."</p> - -<p>"No, your Excellency," said the valet; "it is exceedingly fine."</p> - -<p>"What do you know about it? Open the ventilator. Just what I told you! -A frightful wind, and as icy as can be. Unharness the horses. Lisaveta, -my child, we will not go out to-day. It was scarcely worth while to -dress so much."</p> - -<p>"What an existence!" said the companion to herself.</p> - -<p>Lisaveta Ivanovna was, in fact, a most unhappy creature. "The bread of -the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his staircase hard to climb." -But who can tell the torments of a poor little companion attached to -an old lady of quality? The Countess had all the caprices of a woman -spoilt by the world. She was avaricious and egotistical, and thought -all the more of herself now that she had ceased to play an active part -in society. She never missed a ball, and she dressed and painted in the -style of a bygone age. She remained in a corner of the room, where she -seemed to have been placed expressly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> to serve as a scarecrow. Every -one on coming in went to her and made her a low bow, but this ceremony -once at an end no one spoke a word to her. She received the whole city -at her house, observing the strictest etiquette, and never failing to -give to everyone his or her proper name. Her innumerable servants, -growing pale and fat in the ante-chamber, did absolutely as they liked, -so that that the house was pillaged as if its owner were really dead. -Lisaveta passed her life in continual torture. If she made tea she was -reproached with wasting the sugar. If she read a novel to the Countess -she was held responsible for all the absurdities of the author. If she -went out with the noble lady for a walk or drive, it was she who was to -blame if the weather was bad or the pavement muddy. Her salary, more -than modest, was never punctually paid, and she was expected to dress -"like every one else," that is to say, like very few people indeed. -When she went into society her position was sad. Everyone knew her; no -one paid her any attention. At a ball she sometimes danced, but only -when a <i>vis-à-vis</i> was wanted. Women would come up to her, take her by -the arm, and lead her out of the room if their dress required attending -to. She had her portion of self-respect, and felt deeply the misery -of her position. She looked with impatience for a liberator to break -her chain. But the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> men, prudent in the midst of their affected -giddiness, took care not to honour her with their attentions, though -Lisaveta Ivanovna was a hundred times prettier than the shameless or -stupid girls whom they surrounded with their homage. More than once -she slunk away from the splendour of the drawing-room to shut herself -up alone in her little bed-room, furnished with an old screen and a -pieced carpet, a chest of drawers, a small looking-glass, and a wooden -bedstead. There she shed tears at her ease by the light of a tallow -candle in a tin candlestick.</p> - -<p>One morning—it was two days after the party at Narumoff's, and a -week before the scene we have just sketched—Lisaveta was sitting at -her embroidery before the window, when, looking carelessly into the -street, she saw an officer, in the uniform of the Engineers, standing -motionless with his eyes fixed upon her. She lowered her head, and -applied herself to her work more attentively than ever. Five minutes -afterwards she locked mechanically into the street, and the officer was -still in the same place. Not being in the habit of exchanging glances -with young men who passed by her window, she remained with her eyes -fixed on her work for nearly two hours, until she was told that lunch -was ready. She got up to put her embroidery away, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> while doing so, -looked into the street, and saw the officer still in the same place. -This seemed to her very strange. After lunch she went to the window -with a certain emotion, but the officer of Engineers was no longer in -the street.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades004"></a> -<img src="images/spades_004.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"THERE SHE SHED TEARS."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<p>She thought no more of him. But two days afterwards, just as she was -getting into the carriage with the Countess, she saw him once more, -standing straight before the door. His face was half concealed by a fur -collar, but his black eyes sparkled beneath his helmet. Lisaveta was -afraid, without knowing why, and she trembled as she took her seat in -the carriage.</p> - -<p>On returning home, she rushed with a beating heart towards the -window. The officer was in his habitual place, with his eyes fixed -ardently upon her. She at once withdrew, burning at the same time with -curiosity, and moved by a strange feeling which she now experienced for -the first time.</p> - -<p>No day now passed but the young officer showed himself beneath the -window. Before long a dumb acquaintance was established between them. -Sitting at her work she felt his presence, and when she raised her head -she looked at him for a long time every day. The young man seemed full -of gratitude for these innocent favours.</p> - -<p>She observed, with the deep and rapid perceptions of youth, that a -sudden redness covered the officer's pale cheeks as soon as their eyes -met. After about a week she would smile at seeing him for the first -time.</p> - -<p>When Tomski asked his grandmother's permission to present one of his -friends, the heart of the poor young girl beat strongly, and when she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -heard that it was Narumoff, she bitterly repented having compromised -her secret by letting it out to a giddy young man like Paul.</p> - -<p>Hermann was the son of a German settled in Russia, from whom he had -inherited a small sum of money. Firmly resolved to preserve his -independence, he had made it a principle not to touch his private -income. He lived on his pay, and did not allow himself the slightest -luxury. He was not very communicative; and his reserve rendered it -difficult for his comrades to amuse themselves at his expense.</p> - -<p>Under an assumed calm he concealed strong passions and a -highly-imaginative disposition. But he was always master of himself, -and kept himself free from the ordinary faults of young men. Thus, a -gambler by temperament, he never touched a card, feeling, as he himself -said, that his position did not allow him to "risk the necessary in -view of the superfluous." Yet he would pass entire nights before a -card-table, watching with feverish anxiety the rapid changes of the -game. The anecdote of Count St. Germaines three cards had struck his -imagination, and he did nothing but think of it all that night.</p> - -<p>"If," he said to himself next day as he was walking along the streets -of St. Petersburg, "if she would only tell me her secret—if she would -only name the three winning cards! I must get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> presented to her, that I -may pay my court and gain her confidence. Yes! And she is eighty-seven! -She may die this week—to-morrow perhaps. But after all, is there a -word of truth in the story? No! Economy, Temperance, Work; these are -my three winning cards. With them I can double my capital; increase it -tenfold. They alone can ensure my independence and prosperity."</p> - -<p>Dreaming in this way as he walked along, his attention was attracted by -a house built in an antiquated style of architecture. The street was -full of carriages, which passed one by one before the old house, now -brilliantly illuminated. As the people stepped out of the carriages -Hermann saw now the little feet of a young woman, now the military boot -of a general. Then came a clocked stocking; then, again, a diplomatic -pump. Fur-lined cloaks and coats passed in procession before a gigantic -porter.</p> - -<p>Hermann stopped. "Who lives here?" he said to a watchman in his box.</p> - -<p>"The Countess Anna Fedotovna." It was Tomski's grandmother.</p> - -<p>Hermann started. The story of the three cards came once more upon his -imagination. He walked to and fro before the house, thinking of the -woman to whom it belonged, of her wealth and her mysterious power. At -last he returned to his den. But for some time he could not get to -sleep; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> when at last sleep came upon him, he saw, dancing before -his eyes, cards, a green table, and heaps of rubles and bank-notes. -He saw himself doubling stake after stake, always winning, and then -filling his pockets with piles of coin, and stuffing his pocket-book -with countless bank-notes. When he awoke, he sighed to find that his -treasures were but creations of a disordered fancy; and, to drive such -thoughts from him, he went out for a walk. But he had not gone far when -he found himself once more before the house of the Countess. He seemed -to have been attracted there by some irresistible force. He stopped, -and looked up at the windows. There he saw a girl's head with beautiful -black hair, leaning gracefully over a book or an embroidery-frame. The -head was lifted, and he saw a fresh complexion and black eyes.</p> - -<p>This moment decided his fate.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER III.</h4> - - -<p>Lisaveta was just taking off her shawl and her bonnet, when the -Countess sent for her. She had had the horses put in again.</p> - -<p>While two footmen were helping the old lady into the carriage, Lisaveta -saw the young officer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> at her side. She felt him take her by the hand, -lost her head, and found, when the young officer had walked away, that -he had left a paper between her fingers. She hastily concealed it in -her glove.</p> - -<p>During the whole of the drive she neither saw nor heard. When they were -in the carriage together the Countess was in the habit of questioning -Lisaveta perpetually.</p> - -<p>"Who is that man that bowed to us? What is the name of this bridge? -What is there written on that signboard?"</p> - -<p>Lisaveta now gave the most absurd answers, and was accordingly scolded -by the Countess.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you, my child?" she asked. "What are you -thinking about? Or do you really not hear me? I speak distinctly -enough, however, and I have not yet lost my head, have I?"</p> - -<p>Lisaveta was not listening. When she got back to the house, she ran to -her room, locked the door, and took the scrap of paper from her glove. -It was not sealed, and it was impossible, therefore, not to read it. -The letter contained protestations of love. It was tender, respectful, -and translated word for word from a German novel. But Lisaveta did -not read German, and she was quite delighted. She was, however, -much embarrassed. For the first time in her life she had a secret.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> -Correspond with a young man! The idea of such a thing frightened her. -How imprudent she had been! She had reproached herself, but knew not -now what to do.</p> - -<p>Cease to do her work at the window, and by persistent coldness try and -disgust the <i>young</i> officer? Send him back his letter? Answer him in -a firm, decided manner? What line of conduct was she to pursue? She -had no friend, no one to advise her. She at last decided to send an -answer. She sat down at her little table, took pen and paper, and began -to think. More than once she wrote a sentence and then tore up the -paper. What she had written seemed too stiff, or else it was wanting in -reserve. At last, after much trouble, she succeeded in composing a few -lines which seemed to meet the case.</p> - -<p>"I believe," she wrote, "that your intentions are those of an -honourable man, and that you would not wish to offend me by any -thoughtless conduct. But you must understand that our acquaintance -cannot begin in this way. I return your letter, and trust that you will -not give me cause to regret my imprudence."</p> - -<p>Next day, as soon as Hermann made his appearance, Lisaveta left her -embroidery, and went into the drawing-room, opened the ventilator, and -threw her letter into the street, making sure that the young officer -would pick it up.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades005"></a> -<img src="images/spades_005.jpg" width="400" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">SHE TORE IT INTO A HUNDRED PIECES.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> - -<p>Hermann, in fact, at once saw it, and picking it up, entered a -confectioner's shop in order to read it. Finding nothing discouraging -in it, he went home sufficiently pleased with the first step in his -love adventure.</p> - -<p>Some days afterwards, a young person with lively eyes called to see -Miss Lisaveta, on the part of a milliner. Lisaveta wondered what she -could want, and suspected, as she received her, some secret intention. -She was much surprised, however, when she recognised, on the letter -that was now handed to her, the writing of Hermann.</p> - -<p>"You make a mistake," she said; "this letter is not for me."</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon," said the milliner, with a slight smile; "be kind -enough to read it."</p> - -<p>Lisaveta glanced at it. Hermann was asking for an appointment.</p> - -<p>"Impossible!" she cried, alarmed both at the boldness of the request, -and at the manner in which it was made. "This letter is not for me," -she repeated; and she tore it into a hundred pieces.</p> - -<p>"If the letter was not for you, why did you tear it up? You should have -given it me back, that I might take it to the person it was meant for."</p> - -<p>"True," said Lisaveta, quite disconcerted.</p> - -<p>"But bring me no more letters, and tell the person who gave you this -one that he ought to blush for his conduct."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> - -<p>Hermann, however, was not a man to give up what he had once undertaken. -Every day Lisaveta received a fresh letter from him, sent now in one -way, now in another. They were no longer translated from the German. -Hermann wrote under the influence of a commanding passion, and spoke a -language which was his own. Lisaveta could not hold out against such -torrents of eloquence. She received the letters, kept them, and at last -answered them. Every day her answers were longer and more affectionate, -until at last she threw out of the window a letter couched as follows:—</p> - -<p>"This evening there is a ball at the Embassy. The Countess will be -there. We shall remain until two in the morning. You may manage to -see me alone. As soon as the Countess leaves home, that is to say -towards eleven o'clock, the servants are sure to go out, and there -will be no one left but the porter, who will be sure to be asleep in -his box. Enter as soon as it strikes eleven, and go upstairs as fast -as possible. If you find anyone in the ante-chamber, ask whether the -Countess is at home, and you will be told that she is out, and, in -that case, you must resign yourself, and go away. In all probability, -however, you will meet no one. The Countess's women are together in a -distant room. When you are once in the ante-chamber, turn to the left, -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> walk straight on, until you reach the Countess's bedroom. There, -behind a large screen, you will see two doors. The one on the right -leads to a dark room. The one on the left leads to a corridor, at the -end of which is a little winding staircase, which leads to my parlour."</p> - -<p>At, ten o'clock Hermann was already on duty before the Countess's door. -It was a frightful night. The winds had been unloosed, and the snow was -falling in large flakes; the lamps gave an uncertain light; the streets -were deserted; from time to time passed a sledge, drawn by a wretched -hack, on the look-out for a fare. Covered by a thick overcoat, Hermann -felt neither the wind nor the snow. At last the Countesses carriage -drew up. He saw two huge footmen come forward and take beneath the arms -a dilapidated spectre, and place it on the cushions well wrapped up in -an enormous fur cloak. Immediately afterwards, in a cloak of lighter -make, her head crowned with natural flowers, came Lisaveta, who sprang -into the carriage like a dart. The door was closed, and the carriage -rolled on softly over the snow.</p> - -<p>The porter closed the street door, and soon the windows of the first -floor became dark. Silence reigned throughout the house. Hermann walked -backwards and forwards; then coming to a lamp he looked at his watch. -It was twenty minutes to eleven. Leaning against the lamp-post, his -eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> fixed on the long hand of his watch, he counted impatiently the -minutes which had yet to pass. At eleven o'clock precisely Hermann -walked up the steps, pushed open the street door, and went into the -vestibule, which was well lighted. As it happened the porter was not -there. With a firm and rapid step he rushed up the staircase and -reached the ante-chamber. There, before a lamp, a footman was sleeping, -stretched out in a dirty greasy dressing-gown. Hermann passed quickly -before him and crossed the dining-room and the drawing-room, where -there was no light. But the lamp of the ante-chamber helped him to see. -At last he reached the Countess's bedroom. Before a screen covered with -old icons (sacred pictures) a golden lamp was burning. Gilt arm-chairs, -sofas of faded colours, furnished with soft cushions, were arranged -symmetrically along the walls, which were hung with China silk. He -saw two large portraits painted by Madame le Brun. One represented a -man of forty, stout and full coloured, dressed in a light green coat, -with a decoration on his breast. The second portrait was that of an -elegant young woman, with an aquiline nose, powdered hair rolled back -on the temples, and with a rose over her ear. Everywhere might be seen -shepherds and shepherdesses in Dresden china, with vases of all shapes, -clocks by Leroy, work-baskets, fans, and all the thousand playthings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> -for the use of ladies of fashion, discovered in the last century, at -the time of Montgolfier's balloons and Mesmer's animal magnetism.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades006"></a> -<img src="images/spades_006.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"A FOOTMAN IN A GREASY DRESSING GOWN."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> - -<p>Hermann passed behind the screen, which concealed a little iron -bedstead. He saw the two doors; the one on the right leading to the -dark room, the one on the left to the corridor. He opened the latter, -saw the staircase which led to the poor little companion's parlour, and -then, closing this door, went into the dark room.</p> - -<p>The time passed slowly. Everything was quiet in the house. The -drawing-room clock struck midnight, and again there was silence. -Hermann was standing up, leaning against the stove, in which there was -no fire. He was calm; but his heart beat with quick pulsations, like -that of a man determined to brave all dangers he might have to meet, -because he knows them to be inevitable. He heard one o'clock strike; -then two; and soon afterwards the distant roll of a carriage. He now, -in spite of himself, experienced some emotion. The carriage approached -rapidly and stopped. There was at once a great noise of servants -running about the staircases, and a confusion of voices. Suddenly the -rooms were all lit up, and the Countess's three antiquated maids came -at once into the bed-room. At last appeared the Countess herself.</p> - -<p>The walking mummy sank into a large Voltaire arm-chair. Hermann looked -through the crack in the door; he saw Lisaveta pass close to him, and -heard her hurried step as she went up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> little winding staircase. -For a moment he felt something like remorse; but it soon passed off, -and his heart was once more of stone.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="spades007"></a> -<img src="images/spades_007.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"A STRANGE MAN HAD APPEARED."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The Countess began to undress before a looking-glass. Her head-dress of -roses was taken off, and her powdered wig separated from her own hair,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> -which was very short and quite white. Pins fell in showers around -her. At last she was in her dressing-gown and night cap, and in this -costume, more suitable to her age, was less hideous than before.</p> - -<p>Like most old people, the Countess was tormented by sleeplessness. She -had her armchair rolled towards one of the windows, and told her maids -to leave her. The lights were put out, and the room was lighted only by -the lamp which burned before the holy images. The Countess, sallow and -wrinkled, balanced herself gently from right to left. In her dull eyes -could be read an utter absence of thought; and as she moved from side -to side, one might have said that she did so not by any action of the -will, but through some secret mechanism.</p> - -<p>Suddenly this death's-head assumed a new expression; the lips ceased to -tremble, and the eyes became alive. A strange man had appeared before -the Countess!</p> - -<p>It was Hermann.</p> - -<p>"Do not be alarmed, madam," said Hermann, in a low voice, but very -distinctly. "For the love of Heaven, do not be alarmed. I do not wish -to do you the slightest harm; on the contrary, I come to implore a -favour of you."</p> - -<p>The old woman looked at him in silence, as if she did not understand. -Thinking she was deaf,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> he leaned towards her ear and repeated what he -had said; but the Countess still remained silent.</p> - -<p>"You can ensure the happiness of my whole life, and without its costing -you a farthing. I know that you can name to me three cards——"</p> - -<p>The Countess now understood what he required.</p> - -<p>"It was a joke," she interrupted. "I swear to you it was only a joke."</p> - -<p>"No, madam," replied Hermann in an angry tone. "Remember Tchaplitzki, -and how you enabled him to win."</p> - -<p>The Countess was agitated. For a moment her features expressed strong -emotion; but they soon resumed their former dulness.</p> - -<p>"Cannot you name to me," said Hermann, "three winning cards?"</p> - -<p>The Countess remained silent. "Why keep this secret for your -great-grandchildren," he continued. "They are rich enough without; -they do not know the value of money. Of what profit would your three -cards be to them? They are debauchees. The man who cannot keep his -inheritance will die in want, though he had the science of demons at -his command. I am a steady man. I know the value of money. Your three -cards will not be lost upon me. Come!"</p> - -<p>He stopped tremblingly, awaiting a reply. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> Countess did not utter a -word. Hermann went upon his knees.</p> - -<p>"If your heart has ever known the passion of love; if you can remember -its sweet ecstasies; if you Pave ever been touched by the cry of a -newborn babe; if any human feeling has ever caused your heart to beat, -I entreat you by the love of a husband, a lover, a mother, by all -that is sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Tell me your secret! -Reflect! You are old; you Pave not long to live! Remember that the -happiness of a man is in your hands; that not only myself, but my -children and my grandchildren will bless your memory as a saint."</p> - -<p>The old Countess answered not a word.</p> - -<p>Hermann rose, and drew a pistol from his pocket.</p> - -<p>"Hag!" he exclaimed, "I will make you speak."</p> - -<p>At the sight of the pistol the Countess for the second time showed -agitation. Her head shook violently she stretched out her hands as if -to put the weapon aside. Then suddenly she fell back motionless.</p> - -<p>"Come, don't be childish!" said Hermann. "I adjure you for the last -time; will you name the three cards?"</p> - -<p>The Countess did not answer. Hermann saw that she was dead!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4> - - -<p>Lisaveta was sitting in her room, still in her ball dress, lost in -the deepest meditation. On her return to the house, she had sent away -her maid, and had gone upstairs to her room, trembling at the idea of -finding Hermann there; desiring, indeed, <i>not</i> to find him. One glance -showed her that he was not there, and she gave thanks to Providence -that he had missed the appointment. She sat down pensively, without -thinking of taking off her cloak, and allowed to pass through her -memory all the circumstances of the intrigue which had begun such a -short time back, and had already advanced so far. Scarcely three weeks -had passed since she had first seen the young officer from her window, -and already she had written to him, and he had succeeded in inducing -her to make an appointment. She knew his name, and that was all. She -had received a quantity of letters from him, but he had never spoken to -her; she did not know the sound of his voice, and until that evening, -strangely enough, she had never heard him spoken of.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> -<a id="spades_008"></a> -<img src="images/spades_008.jpg" width="300" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"ONE GLANCE SHOWED HER THAT HE WAS NOT THERE."</p> -</div> - -<p>But that very evening Tomski, fancying he had noticed that the young -Princess Pauline, to whom he had been paying assiduous court, was -flirting,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> contrary to her custom, with, another man, had wished to -revenge himself by making a show of indifference. With this noble -object he had invited Lisaveta to take part in an interminable mazurka; -but he teased her immensely about her partiality for Engineer officers, -and pretending all the time to know much more than he really did, -hazarded purely in fun a few guesses which were so happy that Lisaveta -thought her secret must have been discovered.</p> - -<p>"But who tells you all this?" she said with a smile. "A friend of the -very officer you know, a most original man."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And who is this man that is so original?"</p> - -<p>"His name is Hermann."</p> - -<p>She answered nothing, but her hands and feet seemed to be of ice.</p> - -<p>"Hermann is a hero of romance," continued Tomski. "He has the profile -of Napoleon, and the soul of Mephistopheles. I believe he has at least -three crimes on his conscience.... But how pale you are!"</p> - -<p>"I have a bad headache. But what did this Mr. Hermann tell you? Is not -that his name?"</p> - -<p>"Hermann is very much displeased with his friend, with the Engineer -officer who has made your acquaintance. He says that in his place he -would behave very differently. But I am quite sure that Hermann himself -has designs upon you. At least, he seems to listen with remarkable -interest to all that his friend tells him about you."</p> - -<p>"And where has he seen me?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps in church, perhaps in the street; heaven knows where."</p> - -<p>At this moment three ladies came forward according to the custom of -the mazurka, and asked Tomski to choose between "forgetfulness and -regret."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>And the conversation which had so painfully excited the curiosity of -Lisaveta came to an end.</p> - -<p>The lady who, in virtue of the infidelities permitted by the mazurka, -had just been chosen by Tom ski, was the Princess Pauline. During the -rapid evolutions which the figure obliged them to make, there was a -grand explanation between them, until at last he conducted her to a -chair, and returned to his partner.</p> - -<p>But Tomski could now think no more, either of Hermann or Lisaveta, and -he tried in vain to resume the conversation. But the mazurka was coming -to an end, and immediately afterwards the old Countess rose to go.</p> - -<p>Tomski's mysterious phrases were nothing more than the usual platitudes -of the mazurka, but they had made a deep impression upon the heart of -the poor little companion. The portrait sketched by Tomski had struck -her as very exact; and with her romantic ideas, she saw in the rather -ordinary countenance of her adorer something to fear and admire. She -was now sitting down with her cloak off, with bare shoulders; her head, -crowned with flowers, falling forward from fatigue, when suddenly the -door opened and Hermann entered. She shuddered.</p> - -<p>"Where were you?" she said, trembling all over.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> - -<p>"In the Countess's bedroom. I have just left her," replied Hermann. -"She is dead."</p> - -<p>"Great Heavens! What are you saying?"</p> - -<p>"I am afraid," he said, "that I am the cause of her death."</p> - -<p>Lisaveta looked at him in consternation, and remembered Tomski's words: -"He has at least three crimes on his conscience."</p> - -<p>Hermann sat down by the window, and told everything. The young girl -listened with terror.</p> - -<p>So those letters so full of passion, those burning expressions, this -daring obstinate pursuit—all this had been inspired by anything but -love! Money alone had inflamed the man's soul. She, who had nothing -but a heart to offer, how could she make him happy? Poor child! she -had been the blind instrument of a robber, of the murderer of her old -benefactress. She wept bitterly in the agony of her repentance. Hermann -watched her in silence; but neither the tears of the unhappy girl, nor -her beauty, rendered more touching by her grief, could move his heart -of iron. He had no remorse in thinking of the Countess's death. One -sole thought distressed him—the irreparable loss of the secret which -was to have made his fortune.</p> - -<p>"You are a monster!" said Lisaveta, after a long silence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I did not mean to kill her," replied Hermann coldly. "My pistol was -not loaded."</p> - -<p>They remained for some time without speaking, without looking at one -another. The day was breaking, and Lisaveta put out her candle. She -wiped her eyes, drowned in tears, and raised them towards Hermann. He -was standing close to the window, his arms crossed, with a frown on -his forehead. In this attitude he reminded her involuntarily of the -portrait of Napoleon. The resemblance overwhelmed her.</p> - -<p>"How am I to get you away?" she said at last. "I thought you might go -out by the back stairs. But it would be necessary to go through the -Countess's bedroom, and I am too frightened."</p> - -<p>"Tell me how to get to the staircase, and I will go alone."</p> - -<p>She went to a drawer, took out a key, which she handed to Hermann, and -gave him the necessary instructions. Hermann took her icy hand, kissed -her on the forehead, and departed.</p> - -<p>He went down the staircase, and entered the Countess's bedroom. She was -seated quite stiff in her armchair; but her features were in no way -contracted. He stopped for a moment, and gazed into her face as if to -make sure of the terrible reality. Then he entered the dark room, and, -feeling behind the tapestry, found the little door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> which, opened on -to a staircase. As he went down it, strange ideas came into his head. -"Going down this staircase," he said to himself, "some sixty years ago, -at about this time, may have been seen some man in an embroidered coat -with powdered wig, pressing to his breast a cocked hat: some gallant -who has long been buried; and now the heart of his aged mistress has -ceased to beat."</p> - -<p>At the end of the staircase he found another door, which his key -opened, and he found himself in the corridor which led to the street.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The figures and fashions of the mazurka are reproduced in -the cotillon of Western Europe.—<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">TRANSLATOR.</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> - - -<p>Three days after this fatal night, at nine o'clock in the morning, -Hermann entered the convent where the last respects were to be paid -to the mortal remains of the old Countess. He felt no remorse, though -he could not deny to himself that he was the poor woman's assassin. -Having no religion, he was, as usual in such cases, very superstitious; -believing that the dead Countess might exercise a malignant influence -on his life, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> thought to appease her spirit by attending her funeral.</p> - -<p>The church was full of people, and it was difficult to get in. The -body had been placed on a rich catafalque, beneath a canopy of velvet. -The Countess was reposing in an open coffin, her hands joined on her -breast, with a dress of white satin, and head-dress of lace. Around -the catafalque the family was assembled, the servants in black caftans -with a knot of ribbons on the shoulder, exhibiting the colours of -the Countesses coat of arms. Each of them held a wax candle in his -hand. The relations, in deep mourning—children grandchildren, and -great-grandchildren—were all present; but none of them wept.</p> - -<p>To have shed tears would have looked like affectation. The Countess was -so old that her death could have taken no one by surprise, and she had -long been looked upon as already out of the world. The funeral sermon -was delivered by a celebrated preacher. In a few simple, touching -phrases he painted the final departure of the just, who had passed -long years of contrite preparation, for a Christian end. The service -concluded in the midst of respectful silence. Then the relations went -towards the defunct to take a last farewell After them, in a long -procession, all who had been, invited to the ceremony bowed, for the -last time, to her who for so many years had been a scarecrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> at their -entertainments. Finally came the Countess's household; among them was -remarked an old governess, of the same age as the deceased, supported -by two woman. She had not strength enough to kneel down, but tears -flowed from her eyes, as she kissed the hand of her old mistress.</p> - -<p>In his turn Hermann advanced towards the coffin. He knelt down for a -moment on the flagstones, which were strewed with branches of yew. Then -he rose, as pale as death, and walked up the steps of the catafalque. -He bowed his head. But suddenly the dead woman seemed to be staring at -him; and with a mocking look she opened and shut one eye. Hermann by -a sudden movement started and fell backwards. Several persons hurried -towards him. At the same moment, close to the church door, Lisaveta -fainted.</p> - -<p>Throughout the day Hermann suffered from a strange indisposition. In a -quiet restaurant, where he took his meals, he, contrary to his habit, -drank a great deal of wine, with the object of stupefying himself. But -the wine had no effect but to excite his imagination, and give fresh -activity to the ideas with which he was preoccupied.</p> - -<p>He went home earlier than usual, lay down with his clothes on upon -the bed, and fell into a leaden sleep. When he woke up it was night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -and the room was lighted up by the rays of the moon. He looked at his -watch; it was a quarter to three. He could sleep no more. He sat up on -the bed and thought of the old Countess. At this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> moment someone in -the street passed the window, looked into the room, and then went on. -Hermann scarcely noticed it; but in another minute he heard the door of -the ante-chamber open. He thought, that his orderly, drunk as usual, -was returning from some nocturnal excursion; but the step was one to -which he was not accustomed. Somebody seemed to be softly walking over -the floor in slippers.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades009"></a> -<img src="images/spades_009.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"HERMANN STARTED AND FELL BACKWARDS."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The door opened, and a woman, dressed entirely in white, entered the -bedroom. Hermann thought it must be his old nurse, and he asked himself -what she could want at that time of night.</p> - -<p>But the woman in white, crossing the room with a rapid step, was now at -the foot of his bed, and Hermann recognised the Countess.</p> - -<p>"I come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice. "I am forced -to grant your prayer. Three, seven, ace, will win, if played one after -the other; but you must not play more than one card in twenty-four -hours, and afterwards, as long as you live, you must never touch a -card again. I forgive you my death on condition of your marrying my -companion, Lisaveta Ivanovna."</p> - -<p>With these words she walked towards the door, and gliding with her -slippers over the floor, disappeared. Hermann heard the door of the -ante-chamber open, and soon afterwards saw a white figure pass along -the street. It stopped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> for a moment before his window, as if to look -at him.</p> - -<p>Hermann remained, for some time astounded. Then he got up and went into -the next room. His orderly, drunk as usual, was asleep on the floor. He -had much difficulty in waking him, and then could not obtain from him -the least explanation. The door of the ante-chamber was locked.</p> - -<p>Hermann went back to his bedroom, and wrote down all the details of his -vision.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4> - - -<p>Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world, than in -the physical two bodies can occupy the same place at the same time; and -"Three, seven, ace" soon drove away Hermann's recollection of the old -Countess's last moments. "Three, seven, ace" were now in his head to -the exclusion of everything else.</p> - -<p>They followed him in his dreams, and appeared to him under strange -forms. Threes seemed to be spread before him like magnolias, sevens -took the form of Gothic doors, and aces became gigantic spiders.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - -<p>His thoughts concentrated themselves on one single point. How was he -to profit by the secret so dearly purchased? What if he applied for -leave to travel? At Paris, he said to himself, he would find some -gambling-house where, with his three cards, he could at once make his -fortune.</p> - -<p>Chance soon came to his assistance. There was at Moscow a society of -rich gamblers, presided over by the celebrated Tchekalinski, who had -passed all his life playing at cards, and had amassed millions. For -while he lost silver only, he gained bank-notes. His magnificent house, -his excellent kitchen, his cordial manners, had brought him numerous -friends and secured for him general esteem.</p> - -<p>When he came to St. Petersburg, the young men of the capital filled -his rooms, forsaking balls for his card-parties, and preferring the -emotions of gambling to the fascinations of flirting. Hermann was taken -to Tchekalinski by Narumoff. They passed through a long suite of rooms, -full of the most attentive, obsequious servants. The place was crowded. -Generals and high officials were playing at whist; young men were -stretched out on the sofas, eating ices and smoking long pipes. In the -principal room at the head of a long table, around which were assembled -a score of players, the master of the house held a faro bank.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<p>He was a man of about sixty, with a sweet and noble expression of -face, and hair white as snow. On his full, florid countenance might -be read good humour and benevolence. His eyes shone with a perpetual -smile. Narumoff introduced Hermann. Tchekalinski took him by the hand, -told him that he was glad to see him, that no one stood on ceremony -in his house; and then went on dealing. The deal occupied some time, -and stakes were made on more than thirty cards. Tchekalinski waited -patiently to allow the winners time to double their stakes, paid what -he had lost, listened politely to all observations, and, more politely -still, put straight the corners of cards, when in a fit of absence some -one had taken the liberty of turning them down. At last when the game -was at an end, Tchekalinski collected the cards, shuffled them again, -had them cut, and then dealt anew.</p> - -<p>"Will you allow me to take a card?" said Hermann, stretching out his -arm above a fat man who occupied nearly the whole of one side of the -table. Tchekalinski, with a gracious smile, bowed in consent. Naroumoff -complimented Hermann, with a laugh, on the cessation of the austerity -by which his conduct had hitherto been marked, and wished him all kinds -of happiness on the occasion of his first appearance in the character -of a gambler.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There!" said Hermann, after writing some figures on the back of his -card.</p> - -<p>"How much?" asked the banker, half closing his eyes. "Excuse me, I -cannot see."</p> - -<p>"Forty-seven thousand rubles," said Hermann.</p> - -<p>Everyone's eyes were directed toward the new player.</p> - -<p>"He has lost his head," thought Harumoff.</p> - -<p>"Allow me to point out to you," said Tchekalinski, with his eternal -smile, "that you are playing rather high. We never put down here, as a -first stake, more than a hundred and seventy-five rubles."</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Hermann; "but do you accept my stake or not?"</p> - -<p>Tchekalinski bowed in token of acceptation. "I only wish to point out -to you," he said, "that although I am perfectly sure of my friends, -I can only play against ready money. I am quite convinced that your -word is as good as gold; but to keep up the rules of the game, and to -facilitate calculations, I should be obliged to you if you would put -the money on your card."</p> - -<p>Hermann took a bank-note from his pocket and handed it to Tchekalinski, -who, after examining it with a glance, placed it on Hermann's card.</p> - -<p>Then he began to deal. He turned up on the right a ten, and on the left -a three.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I win," said Hermann, exhibiting his three.</p> - -<p>A murmur of astonishment ran through the assembly. The banker knitted -his eyebrows, but speedily his face resumed its everlasting smile.</p> - -<p>"Shall I settle at once?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"If you will be kind enough to do so," said Hermann.</p> - -<p>Tchekalinski took a bundle of bank-notes from his pocket-book, and -paid. Hermann pocketed His winnings and left the table.</p> - -<p>Narumoff was lost in astonishment. Hermann drank a glass of lemonade -and went home.</p> - -<p>The next evening he returned to the house. Tchekalinski again held the -bank. Hermann went to the table, and this time the players hastened to -make room for him. Tchekalinski received him with a most gracious bow. -Hermann waited, took a card, and staked on it his forty-seven thousand -roubles, together with the like sum which he had gained the evening -before.</p> - -<p>Tchekalinski began to deal. He turned up on the right a knave, and on -the left a seven.</p> - -<p>Hermann exhibited a seven.</p> - -<p>There was a general exclamation. Tchekalinski was evidently ill at -ease, but he counted out the ninety-four thousand roubles to Hermann, -who took them in the calmest manner, rose from, the table, and went -away.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="spades010"></a> -<img src="images/spades_010.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"HE SAW BEFORE HIM A QUEEN OF SPADES."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The next evening, at the accustomed hour, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a><br /><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> again appeared. Everyone -was expecting him. Generals and high officials had left their whist to -watch this extraordinary play. The young officers had quitted their -sofas, and even the servants of the house pressed round the table.</p> - -<p>When Hermann took his seat, the other players ceased to stake, so -impatient were they to see him have it out with the banker, who, still -smiling, watched the approach of his antagonist and prepared to meet -him. Each of them untied at the same time a pack of cards. Tchekalinski -shuffled, and Hermann cut. Then the latter took up a card and covered -it with a heap of banknotes. It was like the preliminaries of a duel. A -deep silence reigned through the room.</p> - -<p>Tchekalinski took up the cards with trembling hands and dealt. On one -side he put down a queen and on the other side an ace.</p> - -<p>"Ace wins," said Hermann.</p> - -<p>"No. Queen loses," said Tchekalinski.</p> - -<p>Hermann looked. Instead of ace, he saw a queen of spades before him. He -could not trust his eyes! And now as he gazed, in fascination, on the -fatal card, he fancied that he saw the queen of spades open and then -close her eye, while at the same time she gave a mocking smile. He felt -a thrill of nameless horror. The queen of spades resembled the dead -Countess!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> - -<p>Hermann is now at the Obukhoff Asylum, room No. 17 a hopeless madman! -He answers no questions which we put to him. Only he mumbles to himself -without cessation, "Three, seven, ace; three, seven, <i>queen</i>!"</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/spades_000.jpg" width="300" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4><a name="THE_PISTOL_SHOT" id="THE_PISTOL_SHOT">THE PISTOL SHOT.</a></h4> - - -<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4> - - -<p>We were stationed at the little village of Z. The life of an officer -in the army is well known. Drill and the riding school in the morning; -dinner with the colonel or at the Jewish restaurant; and in the evening -punch and cards.</p> - -<p>At Z. nobody kept open house, and there was no girl that anyone could -think of marrying. We used to meet at each other's rooms, where we -never saw anything but one another's uniforms. There was only one man -among us who did not belong to the regiment. He was about thirty-five, -and, of course, we looked upon him as an old fellow. He had the -advantage of experience, and his habitual gloom, stern features, and -his sharp tongue gave him great influence over his juniors. He was -surrounded by a certain mystery. His looks were Russian, but his name -was foreign. He had served in the Hussars, and with credit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> No one -knew what had induced him to retire and settle in this out of the way -little village, where he lived in mingled poverty and extravagance. He -always went on foot, and wore a shabby black coat. But he was always -ready to receive any of our officers; and though his dinners, cooked by -a retired soldier, never consisted of more than two or three dishes, -champagne flowed at them like water. His income, or how he got it, no -one knew, and no one ventured to ask. He had a few books on military -subjects and a few novels, which he willingly lent and never asked to -have returned. But, on the other hand, he never returned the books he -himself borrowed.</p> - -<p>His principal recreation was pistol-shooting. The walls of his room -were riddled with bullets-a perfect honeycomb. A rich collection of -pistols was the only thing luxurious in his modestly furnished villa. -His skill as a shot was quite prodigious. If he had undertaken to -shoot a pear off some one's cap not a man in our regiment would have -hesitated to act as target. Our conversation often turned on duelling; -Silvio, so I will call him, never joined in it. When asked if he had -ever fought, he answered curtly, "Yes." But he gave no particulars, and -it was evident that he disliked such questions. We concluded that the -memory of some unhappy victim of his terrible skill preyed heavily upon -his conscience.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> None of us could ever have suspected him of cowardice. -There are men whose look alone is enough to repel such a suspicion.</p> - -<p>An unexpected incident fairly astonished us. One afternoon about ten -officers were dining with Silvio. They drank as usual, that is to say, -a great deal. After dinner we asked our host to make a pool. For a long -time he refused on the ground that he seldom played. At last he ordered -cards to be brought in. With half a hundred gold pieces on the table we -sat round him, and the game began. It was Silvio's habit not to speak -when playing. He never disputed or explained. If an adversary made a -mistake Silvio without a word chalked it down against him. Knowing his -way we always let him have it.</p> - -<p>But among us on this occasion was an officer who had but lately joined. -While playing he absent-mindedly scored a point too much. Silvio took -the chalk and corrected the score in his own fashion. The officer, -supposing him to have made a mistake, began to explain. Silvio went -on dealing in silence. The officer, losing patience, took the brush -and rubbed out what he thought was wrong. Silvio took the chalk and -recorrected it. The officer, heated with wine and play, and irritated -by the laughter of the company, thought himself aggrieved, and, in a -fit of passion, seized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> a brass candlestick and threw it at Silvio, who -only just managed to avoid the missile. Great was our confusion. Silvio -got up, white with rage, and said, with sparkling eyes—</p> - -<p>"Sir! have the goodness to withdraw, and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> may thank God that this -has happened in my own house."</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="spades011"></a> -<img src="images/spades_011.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"THE OFFICER SEIZED A BRASS CANDLESTICK."</p> -</div> - -<p>We could have no doubt as to the consequences, and we already looked -upon our new comrade as a dead man. He withdrew saying that he was -ready to give satisfaction for his offence in any way desired.</p> - -<p>The game went on for a few minutes; but feeling that our host was upset -we gradually left off playing and dispersed, each to his own quarters. -At the riding school next day we were already asking one another -whether the young lieutenant was still alive, when he appeared among -us. We asked him the same question, and were told that he had not yet -heard from Silvio. We were astonished. We went to Silvio's and found -him in the court-yard popping bullet after bullet into an ace which he -had gummed to the gate. He received us as usual, but made no allusion -to what had happened on the previous evening.</p> - -<p>Three days passed and the lieutenant was still alive. "Can it be -possible," we asked one another in astonishment, "that Silvio will not -fight?"</p> - -<p>Silvio did not fight. He accepted a flimsy apology, and became -reconciled to the man who had insulted him. This lowered him greatly -in the opinion of the young men, who, placing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> bravery above all the -other human virtues and regarding it as an excuse for every imaginable -vice, were ready to overlook anything sooner than a lack of courage. -However, little by little, all was forgotten, and Silvio regained his -former influence. I alone could not renew my friendship with him. -Being naturally romantic I had surpassed the rest in my attachment -to the man whose life was an enigma, and who seemed to me a hero of -some mysterious story. He liked me, and with me alone did he drop his -sarcastic tone and converse simply and most agreeably on many subjects. -But after this unlucky evening the thought that his honour was -tarnished, and that it remained so by his own choice, never left me; -and this prevented any renewal of our former intimacy. I was ashamed to -look at him. Silvio was too sharp and experienced not to notice this -and guess the reason. It seemed to vex him, for I observed that once or -twice he hinted at an explanation; but I wanted none, and Silvio gave -me up. Thenceforth I only met him in the presence of other friends, and -our confidential talks were at an end.</p> - -<p>The busy occupants of the capital have no idea of the emotions so -frequently experienced by residents in the country and in country -towns; as, for instance, in awaiting the arrival of the post. On -Tuesdays and Fridays the bureau of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> regimental staff was crammed -with officers. Some were expecting money, others letters or newspapers. -The letters were mostly opened on the spot, and the news freely -interchanged, the office meanwhile presenting a most lively appearance.</p> - -<p>Silvio's letters used to be addressed to our regiment, and he usually -called for them himself. On one occasion, a letter having been handed -to him, I saw him break the seal and, with a look of great impatience, -read the contents. His eyes sparkled. The other officers, each engaged -with his own letters, did not notice anything.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," said Silvio, "circumstances demand my immediate departure. -I leave tonight, and I hope you will not refuse to dine with me for the -last time. I shall expect you, too," he added, "turning towards me, -without fail." With these words he hurriedly left, and we agreed to -meet at Silvio's.</p> - -<p>I went to Silvio's at the appointed time and found nearly the whole -regiment with him. His things were already packed. Nothing remained -but the bare shot-marked walls. We sat down to table. The host was in -excellent spirits, and his liveliness communicated itself to the rest -of the company. Corks popped every moment. Bottles fizzed and tumblers -foamed incessantly, and we, with much warmth, wished our departing -friend a pleasant journey and every happiness. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> evening was far -advanced when we rose from table. During the search for hats, Silvio -wished everybody goodbye. Then, taking me by the hand, as I was on the -point of leaving, he said in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"I want to speak to you."</p> - -<p>I stopped behind.</p> - -<p>The guests had gone and we were left alone.</p> - -<p>Sitting down opposite one another we lighted our pipes. Silvio was much -agitated, no traces of his former gaiety remained. Deadly pale, with -sparkling eyes, and a thick smoke issuing from his mouth, he looked -like a demon. Several minutes passed before he broke silence.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps we shall never meet again," he said. "Before saying goodbye I -want to have a few words with you. You may have remarked that I care -little for the opinion of others. But I like you, and should be sorry -to leave you under a wrong impression."</p> - -<p>He paused, and began refilling his pipe. I looked down and was silent.</p> - -<p>"You thought it odd," he continued, "that I did not require -satisfaction from that drunken maniac. You will grant, however, that -being entitled to the choice of weapons I had his life more or less in -my hands. I might attribute my tolerance to generosity, but I will not -deceive you; if I could have chastised him without the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> least risk to -myself, without the slightest danger to my own life, then I would on no -account have forgiven him."</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="spades012"></a> -<img src="images/spades_012.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"HERE IS A MEMENTO OF OUR DUEL."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>I looked at Silvio with surprise. Such a confession completely upset -me. Silvio continued:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Precisely so, I had no right to endanger my life. Six years ago I -received a slap in the face and my enemy still lives."</p> - -<p>My curiosity was greatly excited.</p> - -<p>"Did you not fight him?" I inquired. "Circumstances probably separated -you?"</p> - -<p>"I did fight him," replied Silvio, "and here is a memento of our duel."</p> - -<p>He rose and took from a cardboard box a red cap with a gold tassel and -gold braid.</p> - -<p>"My disposition is well known to you. I have been accustomed to be -first in everything. Prom my youth this has been my passion. In my -time dissipation was the fashion, and I was the most dissipated man -in the army. We used to boast of our drunkenness. I beat at drinking -the celebrated Burtsoff, of whom Davidoff has sung in his poems. Duels -in our regiment were of daily occurrence. I took part in all of them, -either as second or as principal. My comrades adored me, while the -commanders of the regiment, who were constantly being changed, looked -upon me as an incurable evil.</p> - -<p>"I was calmly, or rather boisterously, enjoying my reputation when -a certain young man joined our regiment. He was rich, and came of -a distinguished family—I will not name him. Never in my life did -I meet with so brilliant, so fortunate a fellow!—young, clever, -handsome, with the wildest spirits, the most reckless bravery, bearing -a celebrated name, possessing funds of which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a><br /><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> did not know the -amount, but which were inexhaustible. You may imagine the effect he -was sure to produce among us. My leadership was shaken. Dazzled by -my reputation he began by seeking my friendship. But I received him -coldly; at which, without the least sign of regret, he kept aloof from -me.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades013"></a> -<img src="images/spades_013.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"WE CLUTCHED OUR SWORDS."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>"I took a dislike to him. His success in the regiment and in the -society of women brought me to despair. I tried to pick a quarrel with -him. To my epigrams he replied with epigrams which always seemed to me -more pointed and more piercing than my own, and which were certainly -much livelier; for while he joked I was raving.</p> - -<p>"Finally, at a ball at the house of a Polish landed proprietor, seeing -him receive marked attention from all the ladies, and especially from -the lady of the house, who had formerly been on very friendly terms -with me, I whispered some low insult in his ear. He flew into a passion -and gave me a slap on the cheek. We clutched our swords, the ladies -fainted, we were separated, and the same night we drove out to fight.</p> - -<p>"It was nearly daybreak. I was standing at the appointed spot with my -three seconds. How impatiently I awaited my opponent! The spring sun -had risen and it was growing hot. At last I saw him in the distance. He -was on foot, accompanied by only one second. We advanced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> to meet him. -He approached, holding in his hand his regimental cap filled full of -black cherries.</p> - -<p>"The seconds measured twelve paces. It was for me to fire first. But -my excitement was so great that I could not depend upon the certainty -of my hand, and, in order to give myself time to get calm, I ceded the -first shot to my adversary. He would not accept it, and we decided to -cast lots.</p> - -<p>"The number fell to him; constant favourite of fortune that he was! He -aimed and put a bullet through my cap.</p> - -<p>"It was now my turn. His life at last was in my hands. I looked at him -eagerly, trying to detect if only some faint shadow of uneasiness. But -he stood beneath my pistol picking out ripe cherries from his cap and -spitting out the stones, some of which fell near me. His indifference -enraged me. 'What is the use,' thought I, 'of depriving him of life, -when he sets no value upon it.' As this savage thought flitted through -my brain I lowered the pistol.</p> - -<p>"'You don't seem to be ready for death,' I said, 'you are eating your -breakfast, and I don't want to interfere with you.'</p> - -<p>"'You don't interfere with me in the least,' he replied. 'Be good -enough to fire; or don't fire if you prefer it; the shot remains with -you, and I shall be at your service at any moment.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I turned to the seconds, informing them that I had no intention of -firing that day, and with this the duel ended. I resigned my commission -and retired to this little place. Since then not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> single day has -passed that I have not thought of my revenge; and now the hour has -arrived."</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="spades014"></a> -<img src="images/spades_014.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"HIS LIFE AT LAST WAS IN MY HANDS."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>Silvio took from his pocket the letter he had received that morning, -and handed it to me to read. Someone (it seemed to be his business -agent) wrote to him from Moscow, that a certain individual was soon to -be married to a young and beautiful girl.</p> - -<p>"You guess," said Silvio, "who the certain individual is. I am starting -for Moscow. Me shall see whether he will be as indifferent now as he -was some time ago, when in presence of death he ate cherries!"</p> - -<p>With these words Silvio rose, threw his cap upon the floor, and began -pacing up and down the room like a tiger in his cage. I remained -silent. Strange contending feelings agitated me.</p> - -<p>The servant entered and announced that the horses were ready. Silvio -grasped my hand tightly. He got into the <i>telega</i>, in which lay two -trunks—one containing his pistols, the other some personal effects. We -wished good-bye a second time, and the horses galloped off.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> - - -<p>Many years passed, and family circumstances obliged me to settle in the -poor little village of H. Engaged in farming, I sighed in secret for my -former merry, careless existence. Most difficult of all I found it to -pass in solitude the spring and winter evenings. Until the dinner hour -I somehow occupied the time, talking to the <i>starosta</i>, driving round -to see how the work went on, or visiting the new buildings. But as soon -as evening began to draw in, I was at a loss what to do with myself. My -books in various bookcases, cupboards, and storerooms I knew by heart. -The housekeeper, Kurilovna, related to me all the stories she could -remember. The songs of the peasant women made me melancholy. I tried -cherry brandy, but that gave me the headache. I must confess, however, -that I had some fear of becoming a drunkard from <i>ennui</i>, the saddest -kind of drunkenness imaginable, of which I had seen many examples in -our district.</p> - -<p>I had no near neighbours with the exception of two or three melancholy -ones, whose conversation consisted mostly of hiccups and sighs. -Solitude was preferable to that. Finally I decided to go to bed as -early as possible, and to dine as late as possible, thus shortening the -evening and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> lengthening the day; and I found this plan a good one.</p> - -<p>Pour versts from my place was a large estate belonging to Count B.; -but the steward alone lived there. The Countess had visited her domain -once only, just after her marriage, and she then only lived there about -a month. However, in the second spring of my retirement, there was a -report that the Countess, with her husband, would come to spend the -summer on her estate; and they arrived at the beginning of June.</p> - -<p>The advent of a rich neighbour is an important event for residents in -the country. The landowners and the people of their household talk of -it for a couple of months beforehand, and for three years afterwards. -As far as I was concerned, I must confess, the expected arrival of -a young and beautiful neighbour affected me strongly. I burned with -impatience to see her; and the first Sunday after her arrival I started -for the village, in order to present myself to the Count and Countess -as their near neighbour and humble servant.</p> - -<p>The footman showed me into the Count's study, while he went to -inform him of my arrival. The spacious room was furnished in a most -luxurious manner. Against the walls stood enclosed bookshelves well -furnished with books, and surmounted by bronze busts. Over the marble -mantelpiece<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> was a large mirror. The floor was covered with green -cloth, over which were spread rugs and carpets.</p> - -<p>Having got unaccustomed to luxury in my own poor little corner, and not -having beheld the wealth of other people for a long while, I was awed; -and I awaited the Count with a sort of fear, just as a petitioner from -the provinces awaits in an ante-room the arrival of the minister. The -doors opened, and a man about thirty-two, and very handsome, entered -the apartment. The Count approached me with a frank and friendly look. -I tried to be self-possessed, and began to introduce myself, but he -forestalled me.</p> - -<p>We sat down. His easy and agreeable, conversation soon dissipated my -nervous timidity. I was already passing into my usual manner, when -suddenly the Countess entered, and I became more confused than ever. -She was, indeed, beautiful. The Count presented me. I was anxious to -appear at ease, but the more I tried to assume an air of unrestraint, -the more awkward I felt myself becoming. They, in order to give me time -to recover myself and get accustomed to my new acquaintances, conversed -with one another, treating me in good neighbourly fashion without -ceremony. Meanwhile, I walked about the room, examining the books and -pictures. In pictures I am no <i>connoisseur</i>; but one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> Count's -attracted my particular notice. It represented a view in Switzerland -was not, however, struck by the painting, but by the fact that it was -shot through by two bullets, one planted just on the top of the other.</p> - -<p>"A good shot," I remarked, turning to the Count.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he replied, "a very remarkable shot."</p> - -<p>"Do you shoot well?" he added.</p> - -<p>"Tolerably," I answered, rejoicing that the conversation had turned -at last on a subject which interested me.' "At a distance of thirty -paces I do not miss a card; I mean, of course, with a pistol that I am -accustomed to."</p> - -<p>"Really?" said the Countess, with a look of great interest. "'And you, -my dear, could you hit a card at thirty paces?"</p> - -<p>"Some day," replied the Count, "we will try. In my own time I did not -shoot badly. But it is four years now since I held a pistol in my hand."</p> - -<p>"Oh," I replied, "in that case, I bet, Count, that you will not hit a -card even at twenty paces. The pistol demands daily practice. I know -that from experience. In our regiment I was reckoned one of the bests -shots. Once I happened not to take a pistol in hand for a whole month; -I had sent my own to the gunsmith's. Well, what do you think, Count? -The first time I began again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a><br /><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> to shoot I four times running missed -a bottle at twenty paces. The captain of our company, who was a wit, -happened to be present, and he said to me: 'Your hand, my friend, -refuses to raise itself against the bottle! No, Count, you must not -neglect to practise, or you will soon lose all skill. The best shot I -ever knew used to shoot every day, and at least three times every day, -before dinner. This was as much his habit as the preliminary glass of -vodka."</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="spades015"></a> -<img src="images/spades_015.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"SILVIO! <i>YOU</i> KNEW SILVIO?"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The Count and Countess seemed pleased that I had begun to talk.</p> - -<p>"And what sort of a shot was he?" asked the Count.</p> - -<p>"This sort, Count. If he saw a fly settle on the wall—you smile, -Countess, but I assure you it is a fact. When he saw the fly, he would -call out, 'Kuska, my pistol!' Kuska brought him the loaded pistol. A -crack, and the fly was crushed into the wall!"</p> - -<p>"That is astonishing!" said the Count. "And what was his name?"</p> - -<p>"Silvio was his name."</p> - -<p>"Silvio!" exclaimed the Count, starting from his seat. "<i>You</i> knew -Silvio?"</p> - -<p>"How could I fail to know him? We were comrades; he was received at our -mess like a brother officer. It is now about five years since I last -had tidings of him. Then you, Count, also knew him?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I knew him very well. Did he never tell you of one very extraordinary -incident in his life?"</p> - -<p>"Do you mean the slap in the face, Count, that he received from -a blackguard at a ball?" "He did not tell you the name of this -blackguard?"</p> - -<p>"No, Count, he did not. Forgive me," I added, guessing the truth, -"forgive me—I did not—could it really have been you?"</p> - -<p>"It was myself," replied the Count, greatly agitated. "And the shots in -the picture are a memento of our last meeting."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear," said the Countess, "for God's sake do not relate it! It -frightens me to think of it."</p> - -<p>"No," replied the Count; "I must tell him all. He knows how I insulted -his friend. He shall also know how Silvio revenged himself."</p> - -<p>The Count pushed a chair towards me, and with the liveliest interest I -listened to the following story:—</p> - -<p>"Five years ago," began the Count, "I got married. The honeymoon I -spent here, in this village. To this house I am indebted for the -happiest moments of my life, and for one of its saddest remembrances.</p> - -<p>"One afternoon we went out riding together. My wife's horse became -restive. She was frightened, got off the horse, handed the reins over -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> me; and walked home. I rode on before her. In the yard I saw a -travelling carriage, and I was told that in my study sat a man who -would not give his name, but simply said that he wanted to see me on -business. I entered the study, and saw in the darkness a man, dusty and -unshaven. He stood there, by the fireplace. I approached him, trying to -recollect his face.</p> - -<p>"'You don't remember me, Count?' he said, in a tremulous voice.</p> - -<p>"'Silvio!' I cried, and I confess I felt that my hair was standing on -end.</p> - -<p>"'Exactly so,' he added. 'You owe me a shot; I have come to claim it. -Are you ready?'</p> - -<p>"A pistol protruded from his side pocket.</p> - -<p>"I measured twelve paces, and stood there in that corner, begging him -to fire quickly, before my wife came in.</p> - -<p>"He hesitated, and asked for a light. Candles were brought in. I locked -the doors, gave orders that no one should enter, and again called upon -him to fire. He took out his pistol and aimed.</p> - -<p>"I counted the seconds.... I thought of her ... A terrible moment -passed! Then Silvio lowered his hand.</p> - -<p>"'I only regret,' he said, that the pistol is not loaded with -cherry-stones. My bullet is heavy; and it always seems to me that an -affair of this kind is net a duel, but a murder. I am not accustomed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> -to aim at unarmed men. Let us begin again from the beginning. Let us -cast lots as to who shall fire first.'</p> - -<p>"My head went round. I think I objected. Finally, however, we loaded -another pistol and rolled up two pieces of paper. These he placed -inside his cap; the one through which, at our first meeting, I had put -the bullet. I again drew the lucky number.</p> - -<p>"'Count, you have the devil's luck,' he said, with a smile which I -shall never forget.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what I was about, or how it happened that he succeeded in -inducing me. But I fired and hit that picture."</p> - -<p>The Count pointed with his finger to the picture with the shot-marks -His face had become red with agitation. The Countess was whiter than -her own handkerchief; and I could not restrain an exclamation.</p> - -<p>"I fired," continued the Count, "and, thank Heaven, missed. Then -Silvio—at this moment he was really terrible—then Silvio raised his -pistol to take aim at me.</p> - -<p>"Suddenly the door flew open, Masha rushed into the room. She threw -herself upon my neck with a loud shriek. Her presence restored to -me-all my courage.</p> - -<p>"'My dear,' I said to her, 'don't you see that we are only joking? How -frightened you look!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> Go and drink a glass of water and then come back; -I will introduce you to an old friend and comrade.'</p> - -<p>Masha was still in doubt.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades016"></a> -<img src="images/spades_016.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"MASHA THREW HERSELF AT HIS FEET"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<p>"'Tell me; is my husband speaking the truth?' she asked, turning to the -terrible Silvio. 'Is it true that you are only joking?'</p> - -<p>"'He is always joking. Countess,' Silvio replied. 'He once in a joke -gave me a slap in the face; in joke he put a bullet through this cap -while I was wearing it; and in joke, too, he missed me when he fired -just now. And now <i>I</i> have a fancy for a joke.'</p> - -<p>"With these words he raised his pistol as if to shoot me down before -her eyes."</p> - -<p>Masha threw herself at his feet.</p> - -<p>'Rise, Masha! For shame!' I cried, in my passion. 'And you, sir, cease -to amuse yourself at the expense of an unhappy woman. Will you fire or -not?'</p> - -<p>"'I will not,' replied Silvio. 'I am satisfied. I have witnessed your -agitation—your terror. I forced you to fire at me. That is enough; you -will remember me. I leave you to your conscience.'</p> - -<p>"He was now about to go; but he stopped at the door, looked round -at the picture which my shot had passed through, fired at it almost -without taking aim, and disappeared.</p> - -<p>"My wife had sunk down fainting. The servants had not ventured to stop -Silvio, whom they looked upon with terror. He passed out to the steps, -called his coachman, and before I could collect myself drove off."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Count was silent. I had now heard the end of the story of which -the beginning had long before surprised me. The hero of it I never saw -again. I heard, however, that Silvio, during the rising of Alexander -Ipsilanti, commanded a detach of insurgents and was killed in action.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="THE_SNOWSTORM" id="THE_SNOWSTORM">THE SNOWSTORM.</a></h3> - - -<p>Towards the end of 1811, at a memorable period for Russians, lived -on his own domain of Nenaradova the kind-hearted Gravril R. He was -celebrated in the whole district for his hospitality and his genial -character. Neighbours constantly visited him to have something to eat -and drink, and to play at five-copeck boston with his wife, Praskovia. -Some, too, went to have a look at their daughter, Maria; a tall pale -girl of seventeen. She was an heiress, and they desired her either for -themselves or for their sons.</p> - -<p>Maria had been brought up on French novels, and consequently was in -love. The object of her affection was a poor ensign in the army, who -was now at home in his small village on leave of absence. As a matter -of course, the young man reciprocated Maria's passion. But the parents -of his beloved, noticing their mutual attachment, forbade their -daughter even to think of him, while they received him worse than an -ex-assize judge.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades017"></a> -<img src="images/spades_017.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"THE LOVERS MET IN THE PINE WOOD."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>Our lovers corresponded, and met alone daily in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a><br /><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> the pine wood or by -the old roadway chapel. There they vowed everlasting love, inveighed -against fate, and exchanged various suggestions. Writing and talking in -this way, they quite naturally reached the following conclusion:—</p> - -<p>If we cannot exist apart from each other, and if the tyranny of -hard-hearted parents throws obstacles in the way of our happiness, then -can we not manage without them?</p> - -<p>Of course, this happy idea originated in the mind of the young man; but -it pleased the romantic imagination of Maria immensely.</p> - -<p>Winter set in and put a stop to their meetings. But their -correspondence became all the more active. Vladimir begged Maria in -every letter to give herself up to him that they might get married -secretly, hide for a while, and then throw themselves at the feet of -the parents, who would of course in the end be touched by their heroic -constancy and say to them, "Children, come to our arms!"</p> - -<p>Maria hesitated a long while, and out of many different plans proposed, -that of flight was for a time rejected. At last, however, she -consented. On the appointed day she was to decline supper, and retire -to her room under the plea of a headache. She and her maid, who was in -the secret, were then to go out into the garden by the back stairs, -and beyond the garden they would find a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> sledge ready for them, would -get into it and drive a distance of five miles from Nenaradova, to the -village of Jadrino, straight to the church, where Vladimir would be -waiting for them.</p> - -<p>On the eve of the decisive day, Maria did not sleep all night; she was -packing and tying up linen and dresses. She wrote, moreover, a long -letter to a friend of hers, a sentimental young lady; and another to -her parents. Of the latter, she took leave in the most touching terms. -She excused the step she was taking by reason of the unconquerable -power of love, and wound up by declaring that she should consider it -the happiest moment of her life when she was allowed to throw herself -at the feet of her dearest parents. Sealing both letters with a Toula -seal, on which were engraven two flaming hearts with an appropriate -inscription, she at last threw herself upon her bed before daybreak -and dozed off, though even then she was awake tied from one moment -to another by terrible thoughts. First it seemed to her that at the -moment of entering the sledge in order to go and get married her father -stopped her, and with cruel rapidity dragged her over the snow and -threw her into a dark bottomless cellar, down which she fell headlong -with an indescribable sinking of the heart. Then she saw Vladimir, -lying on the grass, pale and bleeding; with his dying breath he -implored her to make haste and marry him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> Other hideous and senseless -visions floated before her one after another. Finally she rose paler -than usual, and with, a real headache.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades018"></a> -<img src="images/spades_018.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"SHE BURST INTO TEARS."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> - -<p>Both her father and her mother remarked her indisposition. Their -tender anxiety and constant inquiries, "What is the matter with you, -Masha—are you ill?" cut her to the heart. She tried to pacify them and -to appear cheerful; but she could not. Evening set in. The idea that -she was passing the day for the last time in the midst of her family -oppressed her. In her secret heart she took leave of everybody, of -everything which surrounded her.</p> - -<p>Supper was served; her heart beat violently. In a trembling voice she -declared that she did not want any supper, and wished her father and -mother good-night. They kissed her, and as usual blessed her; and she -nearly wept.</p> - -<p>Reaching her own room she threw herself into an easy chair and burst -into tears. Her maid begged her to be calm and take courage. Everything -was ready. In half-an-hour Masha would leave for ever her parents' -house, her own room, her peaceful life as a young girl.</p> - -<p>Out of doors the snow was falling, the wind howling. The shutters -rattled and shook. In everything she seemed to recognise omens and -threats.</p> - -<p>Soon the whole home was quiet and asleep. Masha wrapped herself in a -shawl, put on a warm cloak, and with a box in her hand passed out on -to the back staircase. The maid carried two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> bundles after her. They -descended into the garden. The snowstorm raged: a strong wind blew -against them as if trying to stop the young culprit. With difficulty -they reached the end of the garden. In the road a sledge awaited them.</p> - -<p>The horses from cold would not stand still. Vladimir's coachman was -walking to and fro in front of them, trying to quiet them. He helped -the young lady and her maid to their seats, and packing away the -bundles and the dressing-case took up the reins, and the horses flew -forward into the darkness of the night.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Having entrusted the young lady to the care of fate and of Tereshka the -coachman, let us return to the young lover.</p> - -<p>Vladimir had spent the whole day in driving. In the morning he had -called on the Jadrino priest, and, with difficulty, came to terms with -him. Then he went to seek for witnesses from amongst the neighbouring -gentry. The first on whom he called was a former cornet of horse, -Dravin by name, a man in his forties, who consented at once. The -adventure, he declared, reminded him of old times and of his larks -when he was in the Hussars. He persuaded Vladimir to stop to dinner -with him, assuring him that there would be no difficulty in getting -the other two witnesses. Indeed, immediately after dinner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> in came -the surveyor Schmidt, with a moustache and spurs, and the son of a -captain-magistrate, a boy of sixteen, who had recently entered the -Uhlans. They not only accepted Vladimir's proposal, but even swore that -they were ready to sacrifice their lives for him. Vladimir embraced -them with delight, and drove off to get everything ready.</p> - -<p>It had long been dark. Vladimir despatched his trustworthy Tereshka -to Nenaradova with his two-horsed sledge, and with appropriate -instructions for the occasion. For himself he ordered the small sledge -with one horse, and started alone without a coachman for Jadrino, where -Maria ought to arrive in a couple of hours. He knew the road, and the -drive would only occupy twenty minutes.</p> - -<p>But Vladimir had scarcely passed from the enclosure into the open field -when the wind rose, and soon there was a driving snowstorm so heavy and -so severe that he could not see. In a moment the road was covered with -snow. All landmarks disappeared in the murky yellow darkness, through -which fell white flakes of snow. Sky and earth became merged into one. -Vladimir, in the midst of the field, tried in vain to get to the road. -The horse walked on at random, and every moment stepped either into -deep snow or into a rut, so that the sledge was constantly upsetting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> -Vladimir tried at least not to lose the right direction; but it seemed -to him that more than half an hour had passed, and he had not yet -reached the Jadrino wood. Another ten minutes passed, and still the -wood was invisible. Vladimir drove across fields intersected by deep -ditches. The snowstorm did not abate, and the sky did not clear. The -horse was getting tired and the perspiration rolled from him like hail, -in spite of the fact that every moment his legs were disappearing in -the snow.</p> - -<p>At last Vladimir found that he was going in the wrong direction. He -stopped; began to reflect, recollect, and consider; till at last he -became convinced that he ought to have turned to the right. He did so -now. His horse could scarcely drag along. But he had been more than -an hour on the road, and Jadrino could not now be far. He drove and -drove, but there was no getting out of the field. Still snow-drifts and -ditches. Every moment the sledge was upset, and every moment Vladimir -had to raise it up.</p> - -<p>Time was slipping by, and Vladimir grew seriously anxious. At last in -the distance some dark object could be seen.</p> - -<p>Vladimir turned in its direction, and as he drew near found it was a -wood.</p> - -<p>"Thank Heaven," he thought, "I am now near the end."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> - -<p>He drove by the side of the wood, hoping to come at once upon the -familiar road, or, if not, to pass round the wood. Jadrino was situated -immediately behind it.</p> - -<p>He soon found the road, and passed into the darkness of the wood, now -stripped by the winter. The wind could not rage here; the road was -smooth, the horse picked up courage, and Vladimir was comforted.</p> - -<p>He drove and drove, but still Jadrino was not to be seen; there was no -end to the wood. Then to his horror he discovered that he had got into -a strange wood. He was in despair. He whipped his horse, and the poor -animal started off at a trot. But it soon got tired, and in a quarter -of an hour, in spite of all poor Vladimir's efforts, could only crawl.</p> - -<p>Gradually the trees became thinner, and Vladimir drove out of the wood, -but Jadrino was not to be seen. It must have been about midnight. -Tears gushed from the young man's eyes. He drove on at random; and now -the weather abated, the clouds dispersed, and before him was a wide -stretch of plain, covered with a white billowy carpet. The night was -comparatively clear, and he could see a small village a short distance -off, which consisted of four or five cottages. Vladimir drove towards -it. At the first door he jumped out of the sledge, ran up to the -window, and tapped.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> After a few minutes a wooden, shutter was raised, -and an old man stuck out his grey beard.</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"How far is Jadrino?"</p> - -<p>"How far is Jadrino?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes! Is it far?"</p> - -<p>"Not far; about ten miles."</p> - -<p>At this answer Vladimir clutched hold of his hair, and stood -motionless, like a man condemned to death.</p> - -<p>"Where do you come from?" added the man. Vladimir had not the courage -to reply.</p> - -<p>"My man," he said, "can you procure me horses to Jadrino?"</p> - -<p>"We have no horses," answered the peasant.</p> - -<p>"Could I find a guide? I will pay him any sum he likes."</p> - -<p>"Stop!" said the old man, dropping the shutter; "I will send my son out -to you; he will conduct you."</p> - -<p>Vladimir waited. Scarcely a minute had passed when he again knocked. -The shutter was lifted and a beard was seen.</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"What about your son?"</p> - -<p>"He'll come out directly: he is putting on his boots. Are you cold? -Come in and warm yourself."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Thanks! Send out your son quickly."</p> - -<p>The gate creaked; a youth came out with a cudgel, and walked on in -front, at one time pointing out the road, at another looking for it in -a mass of drifted snow.</p> - -<p>"What o'clock is it?" Vladimir asked him.</p> - -<p>"It will soon be daylight," replied the young-peasant. Vladimir spoke -not another word.</p> - -<p>The cocks were crowing, and it was light when they reached Jadrino. The -church was closed. Vladimir paid the guide, and drove into the yard of -the priest's house. In the yard his two-horsed sledge was not to be -seen. What news awaited him?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But let us return to the kind proprietors of Nenaradova, and see what -is going on there.</p> - -<p>Nothing.</p> - -<p>The old people awoke, and went into the sitting-room, Gavril in a -night-cap and flannel jacket, Praskovia in a wadded dressing-gown. The -samovar was brought in, and, Gavril sent the little maid to ask Maria -how she was and how she had slept. The little maid returned, saying -that her young lady had slept badly, but that she was better now, and -that she would come into the sitting-room in a moment. And indeed the -door opened, and Maria came in and wished her papa and mamma good -morning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How is your head-ache, Masha?" (familiar for Mary) inquired Gavril.</p> - -<p>"Better, papa; answered Masha.</p> - -<p>"The fumes from the stoves must have given you your head-ache," -remarked Praskovia.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps so, mamma," replied Masha.</p> - -<p>The day passed well enough, but in the night Masha was taken ill. A -doctor was sent for from town. He came towards evening and found the -patient delirious. Soon she was in a severe fever, and in a fortnight -the poor patient was on the brink of the grave.</p> - -<p>No member of the family knew anything of the flight from home. The -letters written by Masha the evening before had been burnt; and the -maid, fearing the wrath of the master and mistress, had not breathed -a word. The priest, the ex-cornet, the big moustached surveyor, -and the little lancer were equally discreet, and with good reason. -Tereshka, the coachman, never said too much, not even in his drink. -Thus the secret was kept better than it might have been by half a dozen -conspirators.</p> - -<p>But Maria herself, in the course of her long fever, let out her secret, -nevertheless, her words were so disconnected that her mother, who never -left her bedside, could only make out from them that her daughter -was desperately in love with Vladimir, and that probably love was -the cause<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> of her illness. She consulted her husband and some of her -neighbours, and at last it was decided unanimously that the fate of -Maria ought not to be interfered with, that a woman must not ride away -from the man she is destined to marry, that poverty is no crime, that -a woman has to live not with money but with a man, and so on. Moral -proverbs are wonderfully useful on such occasions, when we can invent -little or nothing in our own justification.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the young lady began to recover. Vladimir had not been seen -for a long time in the house of Gravril, so frightened had he been by -his previous reception. It was now resolved to send and announce to -him the good news which he could scarcely expect: the consent of her -parents to his marriage with Maria.</p> - -<p>But what was the astonishment of the proprietors of Nenaradova when, -in answer to their invitation, they received an insane reply. Vladimir -informed them he could never set foot in their house, and begged them -to forget an unhappy man whose only hope now was in death. A few days -afterwards they heard that Vladimir had left the place and joined the -army.</p> - -<p>A long time passed before they ventured to tell Masha, who was now -recovering. She never mentioned Vladimir. Some months later, however, -finding his name in the list of those who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> distinguished themselves -and been severely wounded at Borodino, she fainted, and it was feared -that the fever might return. But, Heaven be thanked! the fainting fit -had no bad results.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Maria experienced yet another sorrow. Her father died, leaving her the -heiress of all his property. But the inheritance could not console her. -She shared sincerely the affliction of her mother, and vowed she would -never leave her.</p> - -<p>Suitors clustered round the charming heiress; but she gave no one the -slightest hope. Her mother sometimes tried to persuade her to choose a -companion in life; but Maria shook her head, and grew pensive.</p> - -<p>Vladimir no longer existed. He had died at Moscow on the eve of the -arrival of the French. His memory was held sacred by Maria, and she -treasured up everything that would remind her of him; books he had -read, drawings which he had made; songs he had sung, and the pieces of -poetry which he had copied out for her.</p> - -<p>The neighbours, hearing all this, wondered at her fidelity, and awaited -with curiosity the arrival of the hero who must in the end triumph over -the melancholy constancy of this virgin Artemis.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the war had been brought to a glorious conclusion, and our -armies were returning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> from abroad. The people ran to meet them. The -music played, by the regimental bands consisted of war songs, "Vive -Henri-Quatre," Tirolese waltzes and airs from Joconde. Nourished on -the atmosphere of winter, officers who had started on the campaign -mere striplings returned grown men, and covered with decorations. The -soldiers conversed gaily among themselves, mingling German and French -words every moment in their speech. A time never to be forgotten—a -time of glory and delight! How quickly beat the Russian heart at -the words, "Native land!" How sweet the tears of meeting! With what -unanimity did we combine feelings of national pride with love for the -Tsar! And for him, what a moment!</p> - -<p>The women—our Russian women—were splendid then. Their usual coldness -disappeared. Their delight was really intoxicating when, meeting the -conquerors, they cried, "Hurrah!" And they threw up their caps in the -air.</p> - -<p>Who of the officers of that period does not own that to the Russian -women he was indebted for his best and most valued reward? During this -brilliant period Maria was living with her mother in retirement, and -neither of them saw how, in both the capitals, the returning troops -were welcomed. But in the districts and villages the general enthusiasm -was, perhaps, even greater.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="spades019"></a> -<img src="images/spades_019.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"A TIME OF GLORY AND DELIGHT."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> - -<p>In these places the appearance of an officer became for him a veritable -triumph. The accepted lover in plain clothes fared badly by his side.</p> - -<p>We have already said that, in spite of her coldness, Maria was -still, as before, surrounded by suitors. But all had to fall in the -rear when there arrived at her castle the wounded young colonel -of Hussars—Burmin by name—with the order of St. George in his -button-hole, and an interesting pallor on his face. He was about -twenty-six. He had come home on leave to his estates, which were close -to Maria's villa. Maria paid him such attention as none of the others -received. In his presence her habitual gloom disappeared. It could not -be said that she flirted with him. But a poet, observing her behaviour, -might have asked, "S' amor non è, che dunque?"</p> - -<p>Burmin was really a very agreeable young man. He possessed just the -kind of sense that pleased women: a sense of what is suitable and -becoming. He had no affectation, and was carelessly satirical. His -manner towards Maria was simple and easy. He seemed to be of a quiet -and modest disposition; but rumour said that he had at one time been -terribly wild. This, however, did not harm him in the opinion of Maria, -who (like all other young ladies) excused, with pleasure, vagaries -which were the result of impulsiveness and daring.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> - -<p>But above all—more than his love-making, more than his pleasant talk, -more than his interesting pallor, more even than his bandaged arm—the -silence of the young Hussar excited her curiosity and her imagination. -She could not help confessing to herself that he pleased her very much. -Probably he too, with his acuteness and his experience, had seen that -he interested her. How was it, then, that up to this moment she had -not seen him at her feet; had not received from him any declaration -whatever? And wherefore did she not encourage him with more attention, -and, according to circumstances, even with tenderness? Had she a secret -of her own which would account for her behaviour?</p> - -<p>At last, Burmin fell into such deep meditation, and his black eyes -rested with such fire upon Maria, that the decisive moment seemed very -near. The neighbours spoke of the marriage as an accomplished fact, and -kind Praskovia rejoiced that her daughter had at last found for herself -a worthy mate.</p> - -<p>The lady was sitting alone once in the drawing-room, laying out -grande-patience, when Burmin entered the room, and at once inquired for -Maria.</p> - -<p>"She is in the garden," replied the old lady: "go to her, and I will -wait for you here." Burmin went, and the old lady made the sign of the -cross<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> and thought, "Perhaps the affair will be settled to-day!"</p> - -<p>Burmin found Maria in the ivy-bower beside the pond, with a book in -her hands, and wearing a white dress—a veritable heroine of romance. -After the first inquiries, Maria purposely let the conversation drop; -increasing by these means the mutual embarrassment, from which it was -only possible to escape by means of a sudden and positive declaration.</p> - -<p>It happened thus. Burmin, feeling the awkwardness of his position, -informed Maria that he had long sought an opportunity of opening his -heart to her, and that he begged for a moment's attention. Maria closed -the book and lowered her eyes, as a sign that she was listening.</p> - -<p>"I love you," said Burmin, "I love you passionately!" Maria blushed, -and bent her head still lower.</p> - -<p>"I have behaved imprudently, yielding as I have done to the seductive -pleasure of seeing and hearing you daily." Maria recollected the first -letter of St. Preux in 'La Nouvelle Héloïse.'</p> - -<p>"It is too late now to resist my fate. The remembrance of you, your -dear incomparable image, must from to-day be at once the torment and -the consolation of my existence. I have now a grave duty to perform, -a terrible secret to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a><br /><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> disclose, which will place between us an -insurmountable barrier."</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> -<a id="spades020"></a> -<img src="images/spades_020.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="capt">"IN THE IVY BOWER."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>"It has always existed!" interrupted Maria; "I could never have been -your wife."</p> - -<p>"I know," he replied quickly; "I know that you once loved. But death -and three years of mourning may have worked some change. Dear, kind -Maria, do not try to deprive me of my last consolation; the idea that -you might have consented to make me happy if——. Don't speak, for -God's sake don't speak—you torture me. Yes, I know, I feel that you -could have been mine, but—I am the most miserable of beings—I am -already married!"</p> - -<p>Maria looked at him in astonishment.</p> - -<p>"I am married," continued Burmin; "I have been married more than three -years, and do not know who my wife is, or where she is, or whether I -shall ever see her again."</p> - -<p>"What are you saying?" exclaimed Maria; "how strange! Pray continue."</p> - -<p>"In the beginning of 1812," said Burmin, "I was hurrying on to -Wilna, where my regiment was stationed. Arriving one evening late -at a station, I ordered, the horses to be got ready quickly, when -suddenly a fearful snowstorm broke out. Both station master and drivers -advised me to wait till it was over. I listened to their advice, but -an unaccountable restlessness took possession<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> of me, just as though -someone was pushing me on. Meanwhile, the snowstorm did not abate. I -could bear it no longer, and again ordered the horses, and started in -the midst of the storm. The driver took it into his head to drive along -the river, which would shorten the distance by three miles. The banks -were covered with snowdrifts; the driver missed the turning which would -have brought us out on to the road, and we turned up in an unknown -place. The storm never ceased. I could discern a light, and told the -driver to make for it. We entered a village, and found that the light -proceeded from a wooden church. The church was open. Outside the -railings stood several sledges, and people passing in and out through -the porch."</p> - -<p>"'Here! here!' cried several voices. I told the coachman to drive up."</p> - -<p>"'Where have you dawdled?' said someone to me. 'The bride has fainted; -the priest does not know what to do: we were on the point of going -back. Make haste and get out!'"</p> - -<p>"I got out of the sledge in silence, and stepped into the church, -which was dimly lighted with two or three tapers. A girl was sitting -in a dark corner on a bench; and another girl was rubbing her temples. -'Thank God,' said the latter, 'you have come at last! You have nearly -been the death of the young lady.'"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The old priest approached me; saying,</p> - -<p>"'Shall I begin?'"</p> - -<p>"'Begin—begin, reverend father,' I replied, absently."</p> - -<p>"The young lady was raised up. I thought her rather pretty. Oh, wild, -unpardonable frivolity! I placed myself by her side at the altar. The -priest hurried on."</p> - -<p>"Three men and the maid supported the bride, and occupied themselves -with her alone. We were married!"</p> - -<p>"'Kiss your wife,' said the priest."</p> - -<p>"My wife turned her pale face towards me. I was going to kiss her, when -she exclaimed, 'Oh! it is not he—not he!' and fell back insensible."</p> - -<p>"The witnesses stared at me. I turned round and left the church without -any attempt being made to stop me, threw myself into the sledge, and -cried, 'Away!'"</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed Maria. "And you don't know what became of your -unhappy wife?"</p> - -<p>"I do not," replied Burmin; "neither do I know the name of the village -where I was married, nor that of the station from which I started. -At that time I thought so little of my wicked joke that, on driving -away from the church, I fell asleep, and never woke till early the -next morning, after reaching the third station. The servant who was -with me died during the campaign, so that I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> now no hope of ever -discovering the unhappy woman on whom I played such a cruel trick, and -who is now so cruelly avenged."</p> - -<p>"Great heavens!" cried Maria, seizing his hand. "Then it was you, and -you do not recognise me?" Burmin turned pale—and threw himself at her -feet.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> -<img src="images/spades_021.jpg" width="425" alt="" /> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="THE_UNDERTAKER" id="THE_UNDERTAKER">THE UNDERTAKER.</a></h3> - - -<p>The last remaining goods of the undertaker, Adrian Prohoroff, were -piled on the hearse, and the gaunt pair, for the fourth time, dragged -the vehicle along from the Basmannaia to the Nikitskaia, whither the -undertaker had flitted with all his household. Closing the shop, he -nailed to the gates an announcement that the house was to be sold or -let, and then started on foot for his new abode. Approaching the small -yellow house which had long attracted his fancy and which he at last -bought at a high price, the old undertaker was surprised to find that -his heart did not rejoice. Crossing the strange threshold, he found -disorder inside his new abode, and sighed for the decrepit hovel, where -for eighteen years everything had been kept in the most perfect order. -He began scolding both his daughters and the servant for being so slow, -and proceeded to help them himself. Order was speedily established. -The case with the holy pictures, the cupboard with the crockery, the -table, sofa, and bedstead, took up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> their appropriate corners in the -back room. In the kitchen and parlour was placed the master's stock -in trade, that is to say, coffins of every colour and of all sizes; -likewise wardrobes containing mourning hats, mantles, and funeral -torches. Over the gate hung a signboard representing a corpulent cupid -holding a reversed torch in his hand, with the following inscription: -"Here coffins are sold, covered, plain, or painted. They are also let -out on hire, and old ones are repaired."</p> - -<p>The daughters had retired to their own room, Adrian went over his -residence, sat down by the window, and ordered the samovar to be got -ready.</p> - -<p>The enlightened reader is aware that both Shakespeare and Walter Scott -have represented their gravediggers as lively jocular people, for the -sake, no doubt, of a strong contrast. But respect for truth prevents me -from following their example; and I must confess that the disposition -of our undertaker corresponded closely with his melancholy trade. -Adrian Prohoroff: was usually pensive and gloomy. He only broke silence -to scold his daughters when he found them idle, looking out of window -at the passers by, or asking too exorbitant prices for his products -from those who had the misfortune (sometimes the pleasure) to require -them. Sitting by the window drinking his seventh cup of tea, according -to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> custom, Adrian was wrapped in the saddest thoughts. He was -thinking of the pouring rain, which a week before had met the funeral -of a retired brigadier at the turnpike gate, causing many mantles to -shrink and many hats to contract. He foresaw inevitable outlay, his -existing supply of funeral apparel being in such a sad condition. But -he hoped to make good the loss from the funeral of the old shopwoman, -Tiruhina, who had been at the point of death for the last year. -Tiruhina, however, was dying at Basgulai, and Prohoroff was afraid that -her heirs, in spite of their promise to him, might be too lazy to send -so far, preferring to strike a bargain with the nearest contractor.</p> - -<p>These reflections were interrupted unexpectedly by three freemason -knocks at the door. "Who is there?" enquired the undertaker. The door -opened and a man, in whom at a glance might be recognised a German -artisan, entered the room, and with a cheery look approached the -undertaker.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, my dear neighbour," he said, with the accent which even now -we Russians never hear without a smile; "Pardon me for disturbing you; -I wanted to make your acquaintance at once. I am a bootmaker, my name -is Gottlieb Schultz, I live in the next street—in that little house -opposite your windows. To morrow I celebrate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> my silver wedding, and I -want you and your daughters to dine with me in a friendly way."</p> - -<p>The invitation was accepted. The undertaker asked the bootmaker to sit -down and have a cup of tea, and thanks to Gottlieb Schultz's frank -disposition, they were soon talking in a friendly way.</p> - -<p>"How does your business get on?" enquired Adrian.</p> - -<p>"Oh, oh," replied Schultz, "one way and another I have no reason to -complain. Though, of course, my goods are not like yours. A living man -can do without boots, but a corpse cannot do without a coffin."</p> - -<p>"Perfectly true," said Adrian, "still, if a living man has nothing to -buy boots with he goes barefooted, whereas the destitute corpse gets -his coffin sometimes for nothing."</p> - -<p>Their conversation continued in this style for some time, until at last -the bootmaker rose and took leave of the undertaker, repeating his -invitation.</p> - -<p>Next day, punctually at twelve o'clock, the undertaker and his -daughters passed out at the gate of their newly-bought house, and -proceeded to their neighbours. I do not intend to describe Adrian's -Russian caftan nor the European dress of Akulina or Daria, contrary -though this be to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> custom of fiction-writers of the present day. -I don't, however, think it superfluous to mention that both, maidens -wore yellow bonnets and scarlet shoes, which they only did on great -occasions.</p> - -<p>The bootmaker's small lodging was filled with guests, principally -German artisans, their wives, and assistants. Of Russian officials -there was only one watchman, the Finn Yurko, who had managed, in spite -of his humble position, to gain the special favour of his chief. He had -also performed the functions of postman for about twenty-five years, -serving truly and faithfully the people of Pogorelsk. The fire which, -in the year 1812, consumed the capital, burnt at the same time his -humble sentry box. But no sooner had the enemy fled, when in its place -appeared a small, new, grey sentry box, with tiny white columns of -Doric architecture, and Yurko resumed his patrol in front of it with -battle-axe on shoulder, and in the civic armour of the police uniform.</p> - -<p>He was well known to the greater portion of the German residents near -the Nikitski Gates, some of whom had occasionally even passed the night -from Sunday until Monday in Yurko's box.</p> - -<p>Adrian promptly made friends with a man of whom, sooner or later, he -might have need, and as the guests were just then going in to dinner -they sat down together.</p> - -<p>Mr. and Mrs. Schultz and their daughter, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> seventeen-year-old -Lotchen, while dining with their guests, attended to their wants and -assisted the cook to wait upon them. Beer flowed. Yurko ate for four, -and Adrian did not fall short of him, though his daughters stood upon -ceremony.</p> - -<p>The conversation, which was in German, grew louder every hour.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the host called for the attention of the company, and opening -a pitch-covered bottle, exclaimed loudly in Russian:</p> - -<p>"The health of my good Louisa!"</p> - -<p>The imitation champagne frothed. The host kissed tenderly the fresh -face of his forty-year old spouse and the guests drank vociferously the -health of good Louisa.</p> - -<p>"The health of my dear guests!" cried the host opening the second -bottle. The guests thanked him and emptied their glasses. Then -one toast followed another. The health of each guest was proposed -separately; then the health of Moscow and of about a dozen German -towns. They drank the health of the guilds in general, and afterwards -of each one separately; The health of the foremen and of the workmen. -Adrian drank with a will and became so lively, that he himself proposed -some jocular toast.</p> - -<p>Suddenly one of the guests, a stout baker, raised his glass and -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>"The health of our customers!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> - -<p>This toast like all the others was drunk joyfully and unanimously. The -guests nodded to each other; the tailor to the bootmaker, the bootmaker -to the tailor; the baker to them both and all to the baker.</p> - -<p>Yurko in the midst of this bowing called out as he turned towards his -neighbour:</p> - -<p>"Now then! My friend, drink to the health of your corpses."</p> - -<p>Everybody laughed except the undertaker, who felt himself affronted and -frowned. No one noticed this; and the guests went on drinking till the -bells began to ring for evening service, when they all rose from the -table.</p> - -<p>The party had broken up late and most of the guests were very -hilarious. The stout baker, with the bookbinder, whose face looked as -if it were bound in red morocco, led Yurko by the arms to his sentry -box, thus putting in practice the proverb, "One good turns deserves -another."</p> - -<p>The undertaker went home drunk and angry.</p> - -<p>"How, indeed," he exclaimed aloud. "Is my trade worse than any other? -Is an undertaker own brother to the executioner? What have the infidels -to laugh at? Is an undertaker a hypocritical buffoon? I should have -liked to invite them to a housewarming; to give them a grand spread. -But no; that shall not be! I will ask my customers instead; my orthodox -corpses."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed the servant, who at that moment was taking off the -undertaker's boots. "What is that, sir, you are saying? Make the sign -of the cross! Invite corpses to your housewarming! How awful!"</p> - -<p>"I will certainly invite them," persisted Adrian, "and not later than -for to-morrow. Honour me, my benefactors, with your company to-morrow -evening at a feast; I will offer you what God has given me."</p> - -<p>With these words the undertaker retired to bed, and was soon snoring.</p> - -<p>It was still dark when Adrian awoke. The shopkeeper, Triuhina, had died -in the night, and her steward had sent a special messenger on horseback -to inform Adrian of the fact. The undertaker gave him a <i>grivenik</i> [a -silver fourpenny bit] for his trouble, to buy <i>vodka</i> with; dressed -hurriedly, took an <i>isvoshchik</i>, and drove off to Rasgulai. At the gate -of the dead woman's house the police were already standing, and dealers -in mourning goods were hovering around, like ravens who have scented -a corpse. The defunct was lying in state on the table, yellow like -wax, but not yet disfigured by decomposition. Hear her, in a crowd, -were relations, friends, and domestics. All the windows were open; -wax tapers were burning; and the clergy were reading prayers. Adrian -went up to the nephew, a young shopman in a fashionable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> <i>surtout</i>, -and informed him that the coffin, tapers, pall, and the funeral -paraphernalia in general would promptly arrive. The heir thanked him in -an absent manner, saying that he would not bargain about the price, but -leave it all to his conscience. The undertaker, as usual, vowed that -his charges should be moderate, exchanged significant glances with the -steward, and left to make the necessary preparations.</p> - -<p>The whole day was spent in travelling from Rasgulai to the Nikitski -Grates and back again. Towards evening everything was settled, and -he started home on foot after discharging his hired <i>isvoshchik.</i> It -was a moonlight night, and the undertaker got safely to the Nikitski -Grates. At Yosnessenia he met our acquaintance, Yurko, who, recognising -the undertaker, wished him good-night. It was late. The undertaker was -close to his house when he thought he saw some one approach the gates, -open the wicket, and go in.</p> - -<p>"What does it mean?" thought Adrian. "Who can be wanting me again? Is -it a burglar, or can my foolish girls have lovers coming after them? -There is no telling," and the undertaker was on the point of calling -his friend Yurko to his assistance, when some one else came up to the -wicket and was about to enter, but seeing the master of the house run -towards him, he stopped, and took off his three cornered hat. His face -seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> familiar to Adrian, but in his hurry he had not been able to -see it properly.</p> - -<p>"You want me?" said Adrian, out of breath. "Walk in, if you please."</p> - -<p>"Don't stand on ceremony, my friend," replied the other, in a hollow -voice, "go first, and show your guest the way."</p> - -<p>Adrian had no time to waste on formality. The gate was open, and he -went up to the steps followed by the other. Adrian heard people walking -about in his rooms.</p> - -<p>"What the devil is this?" he wondered, and he hastened to see. But -now his legs seemed to be giving way. The room was full of corpses. -The moon, shining through the windows, lit up their yellow and blue -faces, sunken mouths, dim, half-closed eyes, and protruding noses. To -his horror, Adrian recognised in them people he had buried, and in -the guest who came in with him, the brigadier who had been interred -during a pouring rain. They all, ladies and gentlemen, surrounded the -undertaker, bowing and greeting him affably, except one poor fellow -lately buried gratis, who, ashamed of his rags, kept at a distance in -a corner of the room. The others were all decently clad; the female -corpses in caps and ribbons, the soldiers and officials in their -uniforms, but with unshaven beards; and the tradespeople in their best -caftans.</p> - -<p>"Prohoroff," said the brigadier, speaking on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> behalf of all the -company, "we have all risen to profit by your invitation. Only those -have stopped at home who were quite unable to do otherwise; who have -crumbled away and have nothing left but bare bones. Even among those -there was one who could not resist—he wanted so much to come."</p> - -<p>At this moment a diminutive skeleton pushed his way through the -crowd and approached Adrian. His death's head grinned affably at the -undertaker. Shreds of green and red cloth and of rotten linen hung on -him as on a pole; while the bones of his feet clattered inside his -heavy boots like pestles in mortars.</p> - -<p>"You do not recognise me, Prohoroff?" said the skeleton. "Don't -you remember the retired, sergeant in the guards, Peter Petrovitch -Kurilkin, him to whom you in the year 1799 sold your first coffin, and -of deal instead of oak?" With these words the corpse stretched out his -long arms to embrace him. But Adrian collecting his strength, shrieked, -and pushed him away. Peter Petrovitch staggered, fell over, and -crumbled to pieces. There was a murmur of indignation among the company -of corpses. All stood up for the honour of their companion, threatening -and abusing Adrian till the poor man, deafened by their shrieks and -quite overcome, lost his senses and fell unconscious among the bones of -the retired sergeant of the guard.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> - -<p>The sun had been shining for sometime upon the bed on which the -undertaker lay, when he at last opened his eyes and saw the servant -lighting the <i>samovar.</i> With horror he recalled all the incidents of -the previous day. Triuchin, the brigadier, and the sergeant, Kurilkin, -passed dimly before his imagination. He waited in silence for the -servant to speak and tell him what had occurred during the night.</p> - -<p>"How you have slept, Adrian Prohorovitch!" said Aksima, handing him his -dressing-gown. "Your neighbour the tailor called, also the watchman, to -say that to-day was Turko's namesday; but you were so fast asleep that -we did not disturb you."</p> - -<p>"Did anyone come from the late Triuhina?"</p> - -<p>"The late? Is she dead, then?"</p> - -<p>"What a fool! Didn't you help me yesterday to make arrangements for her -funeral?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, my <i>batiushka!</i> [little father] are you mad, or are you still -suffering from last night's drink? You were feasting all day at the -German's. You came home drunk, threw yourself on the bed, and and have -slept till now, when the bells have stopped ringing for Mass."</p> - -<p>"Really!" exclaimed the undertaker, delighted at the explanation.</p> - -<p>"Of course," replied the servant.</p> - -<p>"Well, if that is the case, let us have tea quickly, and call my -daughters."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="THE_POSTMASTER" id="THE_POSTMASTER">THE POSTMASTER.</a></h3> - - -<p>Who has not cursed the Postmaster; who has not quarrelled with him? -Who, in a moment of anger, has not demanded the fatal hook to write his -ineffectual complaint against extortion, rudeness, and unpunctuality? -Who does not consider him a human monster, equal only to our extinct -attorney, or, at least, to the brigands of the Murom Woods? Let us, -however, be just and place ourselves in his position, and, perhaps, -we shall judge him less severely. What is a Postmaster? A real martyr -of the 14th class (i.e., of nobility), only protected by his <i>tchin</i> -(rank) from personal violence; and that not always. I appeal to the -conscience of my readers. What is the position of this dictator, as -Prince Yiasemsky jokingly calls him? Is it not really that of a galley -slave? No rest for him day or night. All the irritation accumulated -in the course of a dull journey by the traveller is vented upon the -Postmaster. If the weather is intolerable, the road wretched, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> -driver obstinate, or the horses intractable—the Postmaster is to -blame. Entering his humble abode, the traveller looks upon him as his -enemy, and the Postmaster is lucky if he gets rid of his uninvited -guest soon. But should there happen to be no horses! Heavens! what -abuse, what threats are showered upon his head! Through rain and mud -he is obliged to seek them, so that during a storm, or in the winter -frosts, he is often glad to take refuge in the cold passage in order -to snatch a few moments of repose and to escape from the shrieking and -pushing of irritated guests.</p> - -<p>If a general arrives, the trembling Postmaster supplies him with -the two last remaining <i>troiki</i> (team of three horses abreast), of -which one <i>troika</i> ought, perhaps, to have been reserved for the -diligence. The general drives on without even a word of thanks. Five -minutes later the Postmaster hears—a bell! and the guard throws down -his travelling certificate on the table before him! Let us realize -all this, and, instead of anger, we shall feel sincere pity for the -Postmaster. A few words more. In the course of twenty years I have -travelled all over Russia, and know nearly all the mail routes. I have -made the acquaintance of several generations of drivers. There are few -postmasters whom I do not know personally, and few with whom I have -not had dealings. My curious collection of travelling experiences I -hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> shortly to publish. At present I will only say that, as a class, -the Postmaster is presented to the public in a false light. This -much-libelled personage is generally a peaceful, obliging, sociable, -modest man, and not too fond of money. From his conversation (which -the travelling gentry very wrongly despise) much interesting and -instructive information may be acquired. As far as I am concerned, I -profess that I prefer his talk to that of some <i>tchinovnik</i> (official) -of the 6th class, travelling for the Government.</p> - -<p>It may easily be guessed that I have some friends among the honourable -class of postmasters. Indeed, the memory of one of them is very dear -to me. Circumstances at one time brought us together, and it is of him -that I now intend to tell my dear readers.</p> - -<p>In the May of 1816 I chanced to be passing through the Government of -----, along a road now no longer existing. I held a small rank, and -was travelling with relays of three horses while paying only for two. -Consequently the Postmaster stood upon no ceremony with me, but I -had often to take from him by force what I considered to be mine by -right. Being young and passionate, I was indignant at the meanness and, -cowardice of the Postmaster when he handed over the <i>troika</i> prepared -for me to some official gentleman of higher rank.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> - -<p>It also took me a long time to get over the offence, when a servant, -fond of making distinctions, missed me when waiting at the governor's -table. Now the one and the other appear to me to be quite in the -natural course of things. Indeed, what would become of us, if, instead -of the convenient rule that rank gives precedence to rank, the rule -were to be reversed, and mind made to give precedence to mind? What -disputes would arise! Besides, to whom would the attendants first hand -the dishes? But to return to my story.</p> - -<p>The day was hot. About three versts from the station it began to spit, -and a minute afterwards there was a pouring rain, and I was soon -drenched to the skin. Arriving at the station, my first care was to -change my clothes, and then I asked for a cup of tea.</p> - -<p>"Hi! Dunia!" called out the Postmaster, "Prepare the <i>samovar</i> and -fetch some cream."</p> - -<p>In obedience to this command, a girl of fourteen appeared from behind -the partition, and ran out into the passage. I was struck by her beauty.</p> - -<p>"Is that your daughter?" I inquired of the Postmaster.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he answered, with a look of gratified pride, "and such a good, -clever girl, just like her late mother." Then, while he took note of my -travelling certificate, I occupied the time in examining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> the pictures -which decorated the walls of his humble abode. They were illustrations -of the story of the Prodigal Son. In the firsts a venerable old man -in a skull cap and dressing gown, is wishing good-bye to the restless -youth who naturally receives his blessing and a bag of money. In -another, the dissipated life of the young man is painted in glaring -colours; he is sitting at a table surrounded by false friends and -shameless women. In the next picture, the ruined youth in his shirt -sleeves and a three-corned hat, is taking care of some swine while -sharing their food. His face expresses deep sorrow and contrition. -Finally, there was the representation of his return to his father. -The kind old man, in the same cap and dressing gown, runs out to meet -him; the prodigal son falls on his knees before him; in the distance, -the cook is killing the fatted calf, and the eldest son is asking the -servants the reason of all this rejoicing. At the foot of each picture -I read some appropriate German verses. I remember them all distinctly, -as well as some pots of balsams, the bed with the speckled curtains, -and many other characteristic surroundings. I can see the stationmaster -at this moment; a man about fifty years of age, fresh and strong, in a -long green coat, with three medals on faded ribbons.</p> - -<p>I had scarcely time to settle with my old driver when Dunia returned -with the <i>samovar</i>. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> little coquette saw at a second glance the -impression she had produced upon me. She lowered her large, blue eyes. -I spoke to her, and she replied confidently, like a girl accustomed to -society. I offered a glass of punch to her father, to Dunia I handed a -cup of tea. Then we all three fell into easy conversation, as if we had -known each other all our lives.</p> - -<p>The horses had been waiting a long while, but I was loth to part from -the Postmaster and his daughter. At last I took leave of them, the -father wishing me a pleasant journey, while the daughter saw me to the -<i>telega</i>. In the corridor I stopped and asked permission to kiss her. -Dunia consented. I can remember a great many kisses since then, but -none which left such a lasting, such a delightful impression.</p> - -<p>Several years passed, when circumstances brought me back to the same -tract, to the very same places. I recollected the old Postmasters -daughter, and rejoiced at the prospect of seeing her again.</p> - -<p>"But," I thought, "perhaps the old Postmaster has been changed, and -Dunia may be already married." The idea that one or the other might -be dead also passed through my mind, and I approached the station of ----- with sad presentiments. The horses drew up at the small station -house. I entered the waiting-room, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> instantly recognised the -pictures representing the story of the Prodigal Son. The table and the -bed stood in their old places, but the flowers on the window sills had -disappeared, while all the surroundings showed neglect and decay.</p> - -<p>The Postmaster was asleep under his great-coat, but my arrival awoke -him and he rose. It was certainly Simeon Virin, but how aged! While he -was preparing to make a copy of my travelling certificate, I looked at -his grey hairs, and the deep wrinkles in his long, unshaven face, his -bent back, and I was amazed to see how three or four years had managed -to change a strong, middle-aged man into a frail, old one.</p> - -<p>"Do you recognise me?" I asked him, "we are old friends."</p> - -<p>"May be," he replied, gloomily, "this is a highway, and many travellers -have passed through here."</p> - -<p>"Is your Dunia well?" I added. The old man frowned.</p> - -<p>"Heaven knows," he answered.</p> - -<p>"Apparently, she is married," I said.</p> - -<p>The old man pretended not to hear my question, and in a low voice went -on reading my travelling certificate. I ceased my inquiries and ordered -hot water.</p> - -<p>My curiosity was becoming painful, and I hoped that the punch would -loosen the tongue of my old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> friend. I was not mistaken; the old man -did not refuse the proffered tumbler. I noticed that the rum dispelled -his gloom. At the second glass he became talkative, remembered, or at -any rate looked as if he remembered, me, and I heard the story, which -at the time interested me and even affected me much.</p> - -<p>"So you knew my Dunia?" he began. "But, then, who did not? Oh, Dunia, -Dunia! What a beautiful girl you were! You were admired and praised -by every traveller. No one had a word to say against her. The ladies -gave her presents—one a handkerchief, another a pair of earrings. The -gentlemen stopped on purpose, as if to dine or to take supper, but -really only to take a longer look at her. However rough a man might be, -he became subdued in her presence and spoke graciously to me. Will you -believe me, sir? Couriers and special messengers would talk to her for -half-an-hour at the time. She was the support of the house. She kept -everything in order, did everything and looked after everything. While -I, the old fool that I was, could not see enough of her, or pet her -sufficiently. How I loved her! How I indulged my child! Surely her life -was a happy one? But, no! fate is not to be avoided."</p> - -<p>Then he began to tell me his sorrow in detail. Three years before, -one winter evening, while the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> Postmaster was ruling a new book, his -daughter in the next partition was busy making herself a dress, when -a <i>troika</i> drove up and a traveller, wearing a Circassian hat and a -long military overcoat, and muffled in a shawl, entered the room and -demanded horses.</p> - -<p>The horses were all out. Hearing this, the traveller had raised his -voice and his whip, when Dunia, accustomed to such scenes, rushed out -from behind the partition and inquired pleasantly whether he would not -like something to eat? Her appearance produced the usual effect. The -passenger's rage subsided, he agreed to wait for horses, and ordered -some supper. He took off his wet hat, unloosed the shawl, and divested -himself of his long overcoat.</p> - -<p>The traveller was a tall, young hussar with a small black moustache. -He settled down comfortably at the Postmaster's and began a lively, -conversation with him and his daughter. Supper was served. Meanwhile, -the horses returned and the Postmaster ordered them instantly, without -being fed, to be harnessed to the traveller's <i>kibitka.</i> But returning -to the room, he found the young man senseless on the bench where he lay -in a faint. Such a headache had attacked him that it was impossible for -him to continue his journey. What was to be done? The Postmaster gave -up his own bed to him; and it was arranged that if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> the patient was not -better the next morning to send to C——— for the doctor.</p> - -<p>Next day the hussar was worse. His servant rode to the town to fetch -the doctor. Dunia bound up his head with a handkerchief moistened -in vinegar, and sat down with her needlework by his bedside. In the -presence of the Postmaster the invalid groaned and scarcely said a word.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he drank two cups of coffee and, still groaning, ordered -a good dinner. Dunia never left him. Every time he asked for a drink -Dunia handed him the jug of lemonade prepared by herself. After -moistening his lips, the patient each time he returned the jug gave her -hand a gentle pressure in token of gratitude.</p> - -<p>Towards dinner time the doctor arrived. He felt the patient's pulse, -spoke to him in German and in Russian, declared that all he required -was rest, and said that in a couple of days he would be able to start -on his journey. The hussar handed him twenty-five rubles for his visit, -and gave him an invitation to dinner, which the doctor accepted. They -both ate with a good appetite, and drank a bottle of wine between them. -Then, very pleased with one another, they separated.</p> - -<p>Another day passed, and the hussar had quite recovered. He became very -lively, incessantly joking, first with Dunia, then with the Postmaster, -whistling tunes, conversing with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> passengers, copying their -travelling certificates into the station book, and so ingratiating -himself that on the third day the good Postmaster regretted parting -with his dear lodger.</p> - -<p>It was Sunday, and Dunia was getting ready to attend mass. The hussar's -<i>kibitka</i> was at the door. He took leave of the Postmaster, after -recompensing him handsomely for his board and lodging, wished Dunia -good-bye, and proposed to drop her at the church, which was situated at -the other end of the village. Dunia hesitated.</p> - -<p>"What are you afraid of?" asked her father. "His nobility is not a -wolf. He won't eat you. Drive with him as far as the church."</p> - -<p>Dunia got into the carriage by the side of the hussar. The servant -jumped on the coach box, the coachman gave a whistle, and the horses -went off at a gallop.</p> - -<p>The poor Postmaster could not understand how he came to allow his Dunia -to drive off with the hussar; how he could have been so blind, and what -had become of his senses. Before half-an-hour had passed his heart -misgave him. It ached, and he became so uneasy that he could bear the -situation no longer, and started for the church himself. Approaching -the church, he saw that the people were already dispersing. But Dunia -was neither in the churchyard nor at the entrance. He hurried into -the church; the priest was just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> leaving the altar, the clerk was -extinguishing the tapers, two old women were still praying in a corner; -but Dunia was nowhere to be seen. The poor father could scarcely summon -courage to ask the clerk if she had been to mass. The clerk replied -that she had not. The Postmaster returned home neither dead nor alive. -He had only one hope left; that Dunia in the flightiness of her youth -had, perhaps, resolved to drive as far as the next station, where her -godmother lived. In patient agitation he awaited the return of the -<i>troika</i> with which he had allowed her to drive off, but the driver did -not come back. At last, towards night, he arrived alone and tipsy, with -the fatal news that Dunia had gone on with the hussar.</p> - -<p>The old man succumbed to his misfortune, and took to his bed, the same -bed where, the day before, the young impostor had lain. Recalling all -the circumstances, the Postmaster understood now that the hussar's -illness had been shammed. The poor fellow sickened with severe fever, -he was removed to C———, and in his place another man was temporarily -appointed. The same doctor who had visited the hussar attended him. He -assured the Postmaster that the young man had been perfectly well, that -he had from the first had suspicions of his evil intentions, but that -he had kept silent for fear of his whip.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> - -<p>Whether the German doctor spoke the truth, or was anxious only to prove -his great penetration, his assurance brought no consolation to the poor -patient. As soon as he was beginning to recover from his illness, the -old Postmaster asked his superior postmaster of the town of C——— for -two months' leave of absence, and without saying a word to anyone, he -started off on foot to look for his daughter.</p> - -<p>From the station book he discovered that Captain Minsky had left -Smolensk for Petersburg. The coachman who drove him said that Dunia had -wept all the way, though she seemed to be going of her own free will.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," thought the station master, "I shall bring back my strayed -lamb." With this idea he reached St. Petersburg, and stopped with the -Ismailovsky regiment, in the quarters of a non-commissioned officer, -his old comrade in arms. Beginning his search he soon found out that -Captain Minsky was in Petersburg, living at Demuth's Hotel. The -Postmaster determined to see him.</p> - -<p>Early in the morning he went to Minsky's antechamber, and asked to -have his nobility informed that an old soldier wished to see him. The -military attendant, in the act of cleaning a boot on a boot-tree, -informed him that his master was asleep, and never received anyone -before eleven o'clock. The Postmaster left to return at the appointed -time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> Minsky came out to him in his dressing gown and red skull cap.</p> - -<p>"Well, my friend, what do you want?" he inquired.</p> - -<p>The old maids heart boiled, tears started to his eyes, and in a -trembling voice he could only say, "Your nobility; be divinely -merciful!"</p> - -<p>Minsky glanced quickly at him, flushed, and seizing him by the hand, -led him into his study and locked the door.</p> - -<p>"Your nobility!" continued the old man, "what has fallen from the cart -is lost; give me back, at any rate, my Dunia. Let her go. Do not ruin -her entirely."</p> - -<p>"What is done cannot be undone," replied the young man, in extreme -confusion. "I am guilty before you, and ready to ask your pardon. But -do not imagine that I could neglect Dunia. She shall be happy, I give -you my word of honour. Why do you want her? She loves me; she has -forsaken her former existence. Neither you nor she can forget what has -happened." Then, pushing something up his sleeve, he opened the door, -and the Postmaster found himself, he knew not how, in the street.</p> - -<p>He stood long motionless, at last catching sight of a roll of papers -inside his cuff, he pulled them out and unrolled several crumpled-up -fifty ruble notes. His eyes again filled with tears, tears of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -indignation! He crushed the notes into a ball, threw them on the -ground, and, stamping on them with his heel, walked away. After a few -steps he stopped, reflected a moment, and turned back.</p> - -<p>But the notes were gone. A well-dressed young man, who had observed -him, ran towards an <i>isvoshtchick</i>, got in hurriedly, and called to the -driver to be "off."</p> - -<p>The Postmaster did not pursue him. He had resolved to return home to -his post-house; but before doing so he wished to see his poor Dunia -once more. With this view, a couple of days afterwards he returned to -Minsky's lodgings. But the military servant told him roughly that his -master received nobody, pushed him out of the antechamber, and slammed -the door in his face. The Postmaster stood and stood, and at last went -away.</p> - -<p>That same day, in the evening, he was walking along the Leteinaia, -having been to service at the Church of the All Saints, when a smart -<i>drojki</i> flew past him, and in it the Postmaster recognised Minsky. -The <i>drojki</i> stopped in front of a three-storeyed house at the very -entrance, and the hussar ran up the steps. A happy thought occurred to -the Postmaster. He retraced his steps.</p> - -<p>"Whose horses are these?" he inquired of the coachman. "Don't they -belong to Minsky?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Exactly so," replied the coachman. "Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>"Why! your master told me to deliver a note for him to his Dunia, and I -have forgotten where his Dunia lives."</p> - -<p>"She lives here on the second floor; but you are too late, my friend, -with your note; he is there himself now."</p> - -<p>"No matter," answered the Postmaster, who had an undefinable sensation -at his heart. "Thanks for your information; I shall be able to manage -my business." With these words he ascended the steps.</p> - -<p>The door was locked; he rang. There were several seconds of painful -delay. Then the key jingled, and the door opened.</p> - -<p>"Does Avdotia Simeonovna live here?" he inquired.</p> - -<p>"She does," replied the young maid-servant, "What do you want with her?"</p> - -<p>The Postmaster did not reply, but walked on.</p> - -<p>"You must not, must not," she called after him; "Avdotia Simeonovna has -visitors." But the Postmaster, without listening, went on. The first -two rooms were dark. In the third there was a light. He approached the -open door and stopped. In the room, which was beautifully furnished, -sat Minsky in deep thought. Dunia, dressed in all the splendour of -the latest fashion, sat on the arm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> of his easy chair, like a rider -on an English side saddle. She was looking tenderly at Minsky, while -twisting his black locks round her glittering fingers. Poor Postmaster! -His daughter had never before seemed so beautiful to him. In spite of -himself, he stood admiring her.</p> - -<p>"Who is there?" she asked, without raising her head.</p> - -<p>He was silent.</p> - -<p>Receiving no reply Dunia looked up, and with a cry she fell on the -carpet.</p> - -<p>Minsky, in alarm, rushed to pick her up, when suddenly seeing the old -Postmaster in the doorway, he left Dunia and approached him, trembling -with rage.</p> - -<p>"What do you want?" he inquired, clenching his teeth. "Why do you steal -after me everywhere, like a burglar? Or do you want to murder me? -Begone!" and with a strong hand he seized the old man by the scruff of -the neck and pushed him down the stairs.</p> - -<p>The old man went back to his rooms. His friend advised him to take -proceedings, but the Postmaster reflected, waved his hand, and decided -to give the matter up. Two days afterwards he left Petersburg for his -station and resumed his duties.</p> - -<p>"This is the third year," he concluded, "that I am living without my -Dunia; and I have had no tidings whatever of her. Whether she is alive -or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> not God knows. Many tilings happen. She is not the first, nor the -last, whom a wandering blackguard has <i>enticed</i> away, kept for a time, -and then dropped. There are many such young fools in Petersburg to-day, -in satins and velvets, and to-morrow you see them sweeping the streets -in the company of drunkards in rags. When I think sometimes that Dunia, -too, may end in the same way, then, in spite of myself, I sin, and wish -her in her grave."</p> - -<p>Such was the story of my friend, the old Postmaster, the story more -than once interrupted by tears, which he wiped away picturesquely -with the flap of his coat like the faithful Terentieff in Dmitrieff's -beautiful ballad. The tears were partly caused by punch, of which he -had consumed five tumblers in the course of his narrative. But whatever -their origin, I was deeply affected by them. After parting with him, it -was long before I could forget the old Postmaster, and I thought long -of poor Dunia.</p> - -<p>Lately, again passing through the small place of ———, I remembered -my friend. I heard that the station over which he ruled had been done -away with. To my inquiry, "Is the Postmaster alive?" no one could give -a satisfactory answer. Having resolved to pay a visit to the familiar -place, I hired horses of my own, and started for the village of N——.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was autumn. Grey clouds covered the sky; a cold wind blew from the -close reaped fields, carrying with it the brown and yellow leaves -of the trees which it met. I arrived in the village at sunset, and -stopped at the station house. In the passage (where once Dunia had -kissed me) a stout woman met me; and to my inquiries, replied that the -old Postmaster had died about a year before; that a brewer occupied -his house; and that she was the wife of that brewer. I regretted my -fruitless journey, and my seven roubles of useless expense.</p> - -<p>"Of what did he die?" I asked the brewer's wife.</p> - -<p>"Of drink," she answered.</p> - -<p>"And where is he buried?"</p> - -<p>"Beyond the village, by the side of his late wife."</p> - -<p>"Could someone take me to his grave?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly! Hi, Vanka! cease playing with the cat and take this -gentleman to the cemetery, and show him the Postmaster's grave."</p> - -<p>At these words, a ragged boy, with red hair and a squint, ran towards -me to lead the way.</p> - -<p>"Did you know the poor man?" I asked him, on the road.</p> - -<p>"How should I not know him? He taught me to make whistles. When (may -he be in heaven!) we met him coming from the tavern, <i>we</i> used to run -after him calling, 'Daddy! daddy! some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> nuts,' and he gave us nuts. He -idled most of his time away with, us."</p> - -<p>"And do the travellers ever speak of him?"</p> - -<p>"There are few travellers now-a-days, unless the assize judge turns up; -and he is too busy to think of the dead. But a lady, passing through -last summer, did ask after the old Postmaster, and she went to his -grave."</p> - -<p>"What was the ladylike?" I inquired curiously.</p> - -<p>"A beautiful lady," answered the boy. "She travelled in a coach with -six horses, three beautiful little children, a nurse, and a little -black dog; and when she heard that the old Postmaster was dead, she -wept, and told the children to keep quiet while she went to the -cemetery. I offered to show her the way, but the lady said, 'I know -the way,' and she gave me a silver <i>piatak</i> (twopence) ... such a kind -lady!"</p> - -<p>We reached the cemetery. It was a bare place unenclosed, marked with -wooden crosses and unshaded by a single tree. Never before had I seen -such a melancholy cemetery.</p> - -<p>"Here is the grave of the old Postmaster," said the boy to me, as he -pointed to a heap of sand into which had been stuck a black cross with -a brass <i>icon</i> (image).</p> - -<p>"Did the lady come here?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"She did," replied Vanka. "I saw her from a distance. She lay down -here, and remained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> lying down for a long while. Then she went into the -village and saw the priest. She gave him some money and drove off. To -me she gave a silver <i>piatak.</i> She was a splendid lady!"</p> - -<p>And I also gave the boy a silver <i>piatak,</i> regretting neither the -journey nor the seven roubles that it had cost me.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="THE_LADY_RUSTIC" id="THE_LADY_RUSTIC">THE LADY RUSTIC.</a></h3> - - -<p>In one of our distant provinces was the estate of Ivan Petrovitch -Berestoff. As a youth he served in the guards, but having left the -army early in 1797 he retired to his country seat and there remained. -He married a wife from among the poor nobility, and when she died in -childbed he happened to be detained on farming business in one of his -distant fields. His daily occupations soon brought him consolation. He -built a house on his own plan, set up his own cloth factory, became his -own auditor and accountant, and began to think himself the cleverest -fellow in the whole district. The neighbours who used to come to him -upon a visit and bring their families and dogs took good care not to -contradict him. His work-a-day dress was a short coat of velveteen; -on holidays he wore a frock-coat of cloth from his own factory. His -accounts took most of his time, and he read nothing but the <i>Senatorial -News</i>. On the whole, though he was considered proud, he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> not -disliked. The only person who could never get on with him was his -nearest neighbour, Grigori Ivanovitch Muromsky. A true Russian <i>barin,</i> -he had squandered in Moscow a large part of his estate, and having lost -his wife as well as his money he had retired to his sole remaining -property, and there continued his extragavance but in a different way. -He set up an English garden on which he spent nearly all the income he -had left. His grooms wore English liveries. An English governess taught -his daughter. He farmed his land upon the English system. But foreign -farming grows no Russian corn.</p> - -<p>So, in spite of his retirement, the income of Grigori Ivanovitch did -not increase. Even in the country he had a faculty for making new -debts. But he was no fool, people said, for was he not the first -landowner in all that province to mortgage his property to the -government—a process then generally believed to be one of great -complexity and risk? Among his detractors Berestoff, a thorough hater -of innovation, was the most severe. In speaking of his neighbour's -Anglo-mania he could scarcely keep his feelings under control, and -missed no opportunity for criticism. To some compliment from a visitor -to his estate he would answer, with a knowing smile:</p> - -<p>"Yes, my farming is not like that of Grigori Ivanovitch. I can't afford -to ruin my land on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> English system, but I am satisfied to escape -starvation on the Russian."</p> - -<p>Obliging neighbours reported these and other jokes to Grigori, with -additions and commentaries of their own. The Anglo-maniac was as -irritable as a journalist under this criticism, and wrathfully referred -to his critic as a bumpkin and a bear.</p> - -<p>Relations were thus strained when Berestoff's son came home. Having -finished his university career, he wanted to go into the army; but his -father objected. For the civil service young Berestoff had no taste. -Neither would yield, so young Alexis took up the life of a country -gentleman, and to be ready for emergencies cultivated a moustache. He -was really a handsome fellow, and it would indeed have been a pity -never to pinch his fine figure into a military uniform, and instead -of displaying his broad shoulders on horseback to round them over an -office desk. Ever foremost in the hunting-field, and a straight rider, -it was quite clear, declared the neighbours, that he could never make -a good official. The shy young ladies glanced and the bold stared at -him in admiration; but he took no notice of them, and each could only -attribute his indifference to some prior attachment. In fact, there was -in private circulation, copied from an envelope in his handwriting, -this address:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -A. N. P.,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Care of Akulina Petrovna Kurotchkina,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Opposite Alexeieff Monastery.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Those readers who have not seen our country life can hardly realize the -charm of these provincial girls. Breathing pure air under the shadow -of their apple trees, their only knowledge of the world is drawn from -books. In solitude and unrestrained, their feelings and their passions -develop early to a degree unknown to the busier beauties of our towns. -For them the tinkling of a bell is an event, a drive into the nearest -town an epoch, and a chance visit a long, sometimes an everlasting -remembrance. At their oddities he may laugh who will, but superficial -sneers cannot impair their real merits—their individuality, which, so -says Jean Paul, is a necessary element of greatness. The women in large -towns may be better educated, but the levelling influence of the world -soon makes all women as much alike as their own head-dresses.</p> - -<p>Let not this be regarded as condemnation. Still as an ancient writer -says <i>nota nostra manet.</i></p> - -<p>It may be imagined what an impression Alexis made on our country -misses. He was the first gloomy and disenchanted hero they had ever -beheld; the first who ever spoke to them of vanished joys and blighted -past. Besides, he wore a black ring with a death's head on it. All this -was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> quite a new thing in that province, and the young ladies all went -crazy.</p> - -<p>But she in whose thoughts he dwelt most deeply was Lisa, or, as the old -Anglo-maniac called her, Betty, the daughter of Grigori Ivanovitch. -Their fathers did not visit, so she had never seen Alexis, who was -the sole topic of conversation among her young neighbours. She was -just seventeen, with dark eyes lighting up her pretty face. An only, -and consequently a spoilt child, full of life and mischief, she was -the delight of her father, and the distraction of her governess, Miss -Jackson, a prim spinster in the forties, who powdered her face and -blackened her eyebrows, read Pamela twice a year, drew a salary of -2,000 rubles, and was nearly bored to death in barbarous Russia.</p> - -<p>Lisa's maid Nastia was older, but quite as flighty as her mistress, who -was very fond of her, and had her as confidante in all her secrets and -as fellow-conspirator in her mischief.</p> - -<p>In fact, no leading lady played half such an important part in French -tragedy as was played by Nastia in the village.</p> - -<p>Said Nastia, while dressing her young lady:</p> - -<p>"May I go to-day and visit a friend?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Where?"</p> - -<p>"To the Berestoff's. It is the cook's namesday. He called yesterday to -ask us to dinner."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Then," said Lisa, "the masters quarrel and the servants entertain one -another."</p> - -<p>"And what does that matter to us?" said Nastia. "I belong to you and -not to your father. You have not quarrelled with young Berestoff yet. -Let the old people fight if they please."</p> - -<p>"Nastia! try and see Alexei Berestoff. Come back and tell me all about -him."</p> - -<p>Nastia promised; Lisa spent the whole day impatiently waiting for her. -In the evening she returned.</p> - -<p>"Well, Lisaveta Grigorievna!" she said, as she entered the room.</p> - -<p>"I have seen young Berestoff. I had a good look at him. We spent the -whole day together."</p> - -<p>"How so? tell me all about it."</p> - -<p>"Certainly? We started, I and Anissia——"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, I know! What then?"</p> - -<p>"I would rather tell you in proper order. We were just in time for -dinner; the room was quite full. There were the Zaharievskys, the -steward's wife and daughters, the Shlupinskys——"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes! And Berestoff?"</p> - -<p>"Wait a bit. We sat down to dinner. The steward's wife had the seat of -honour; I sat next to her, and her daughters were huffy; but what do I -care!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Nastia! How tiresome you are with these everlasting details!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How impatient you are! Well, then we rose from table—we had been -sitting for about three hours and it was a splendid dinner-party, -blue, red and striped creams—then we went into the garden to play at -kiss-in-the-ring when the young gentleman appeared."</p> - -<p>"Well, is it true? Is he so handsome?"</p> - -<p>"Wonderfully handsome! I may say beautiful. Tall, stately, with a -lovely colour."</p> - -<p>"Really! I thought his face was pale. Well, how did he strike you—Was -he melancholy and thoughtful?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no! I never saw such a mad fellow. He took it into his head to -join us at kiss-in-the-ring." "He played at kiss-in-the-ring! It is -impossible."</p> - -<p>"No, it's very possible; and what more do you think? When he caught any -one he kissed her." "Of course you may tell lies if you like, Nastia."</p> - -<p>"As you please, miss, only I am not lying. I could scarcely get away -from him. Indeed he spent the whole day with us."</p> - -<p>"Why do people say then that he is in love and looks at nobody?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure I don't know, miss. He looked too much at me and Tania too, -the steward's daughter, and at Pasha too. In fact, he neglected nobody. -He is such a wild fellow!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - -<p>"This is surprising; and what do the servants say about him?"</p> - -<p>"They say he is a splendid gentleman—so kind, so lively! He has only -one fault: he is too fond of the girls. But I don't think that is such -a great fault. He will get steadier in time."</p> - -<p>"How I should like to see him," said Lisa, with a sigh.</p> - -<p>"And why can't you? Tugilovo is only a mile off. Take a walk in that -direction, or a ride, and you are sure to meet him. He shoulders his -gun and goes shooting every morning."</p> - -<p>"No, it would never do. He would think I was running after him. -Besides, our fathers have quarrelled, so he and I could hardly set up -a friendship. Oh, Nastia! I know what I'll do. I will dress up like a -peasant."</p> - -<p>"That will do. Put on a coarse chemise and a <i>sarafan</i>, and set out -boldly for Tugilovo. Berestoff will never miss you I promise you."</p> - -<p>"I can talk like a peasant splendidly. Oh, Nastia, dear Nastia, what -a happy thought!" and Lisa went to bed resolved to carry out her -plan. Next day she made her preparations. She went to the market for -some coarse linen, some dark blue stuff, and some brass buttons, and -out of these Nastia and she cut a chemise and a <i>sarafan.</i> All the -maid-servants were set down to sew, and by evening everything was -ready.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> - -<p>As she tried on her new costume before the glass, Lisa said to herself -that she had never looked so nice. Then she began to rehearse her -meeting with Alexis. First she gave him a low bow as she passed along, -then she continued to nod her head like a mandarin. Next she addressed -him in a peasant <i>patois,</i> simpering and shyly hiding her face behind -her sleeve. Nastia gave the performance her full approval. But there -was one difficulty. She tried to cross the yard barefooted, but the -grass stalks pricked her tender feet and the gravel caused intolerable -pain. Nastia again came to the rescue.</p> - -<p>She took the measure of Lisa's foot and hurried across the fields to -the herdsman Trophim, of whom she ordered a pair of bark shoes.</p> - -<p>The next morning before daylight Lisa awoke. The whole household was -still asleep. Nastia was at the gate waiting for the herdsman; soon -the sound of his horn drew near, and the village herd straggled past -the Manor gates. After them came Trophim, who, as he passed, handed to -Nastia a little pair of speckled bark shoes, and received a ruble.</p> - -<p>Lisa, who had quietly donned her peasant dress, whispered to Nastia -her last instructions about Miss Jackson; then she went through the -kitchen, out of the back door, into the open field, then she began to -run.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> - -<p>Dawn was breaking, and the rows of golden clouds stood like courtiers -waiting for their monarch. The clear sky, the fresh morning air, the -dew, the breeze and singing of the birds filled Lisa's heart with -child-like joy.</p> - -<p>Fearing to meet with some acquaintance, she did nor walk but flew. As -she drew near the wood where lay the boundary of her father's property -she slackened her pace. It was here she was to meet Alexis. Her heart -beat violently, she knew not why. The terrors of our youthful escapades -are their chief charm.</p> - -<p>Lisa stepped forward into the darkness of the wood; its hollow -echoes bade her welcome. Her buoyant spirits gradually gave place to -meditation. She thought—but who shall truly tell the thoughts of sweet -seventeen in a wood, alone, at six o'clock on a spring morning?</p> - -<p>And as she walked in meditation under the shade of lofty trees, -suddenly a beautiful pointer began to bark at her. Lisa cried out with -fear, and at the same moment a voice exclaimed, "<i>Tout beau Shogar, -ici,</i>" and a young sportsman stepped from behind the bushes. "Don't be -afraid, my dear, he won't bite."</p> - -<p>Lisa had already recovered from her fright, and instantly took -advantage of the situation.</p> - -<p>"It's all very well, sir," she said, with assumed timidity and shyness, -<i>"I</i> am afraid of him, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> seems such a savage creature, and may fly at -me again."</p> - -<p>Alexis, whom the reader has already recognised, looked steadily at the -young peasant. "I will escort you, if you are afraid; will you allow me -to walk by your side?"</p> - -<p>"Who is to prevent you?" replied Lisa. "A freeman can do as he likes, -and the road is public!"</p> - -<p>"Where do you come from?"</p> - -<p>"From Prilutchina; I am the daughter of Yassili, the blacksmith, and I -am looking for mushrooms." She was carrying a basket suspended from her -shoulders by a cord.</p> - -<p>"And you, <i>barin</i>; are you from Tugilovo?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly, I am the young gentleman's valet" (he wished to equalize -their ranks). But Lisa looked at him and laughed.</p> - -<p>"Ah! you are lying," she said. "I am not a fool. I see you are the -master himself."</p> - -<p>"What makes you think so?"</p> - -<p>"Everything."</p> - -<p>"Still——?"</p> - -<p>"How can one help it. You are not dressed like a servant. You speak -differently. You even call your dog in a foreign tongue."</p> - -<p>Lisa charmed him more and more every moment. Accustomed to be -unceremonious with pretty country girls, he tried to kiss her, but -Lisa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> jumped aside, and suddenly assumed so distant and severe an air -that though it amused him he did not attempt any further familiarities.</p> - -<p>"If you wish to remain friends," she said, with dignity, "do not forget -yourself."</p> - -<p>"Who has taught you this wisdom?" asked Alexis, with a laugh. "Can -it be my little friend Nastia, your mistress's maid? So this is how -civilization spreads."</p> - -<p>Lisa felt she had almost betrayed herself, and said, "Do you think I -have never been up to the Manor House? I have seen and heard more than -you think. Still, chattering here with you won't get me mushrooms. You -go that way, <i>barin</i>; I'll go the other, begging your pardon;" and Lisa -made as if to depart, but Alexis held her by the hand.</p> - -<p>"What is your name, my dear?"</p> - -<p>"Akulina," she said, struggling to get her fingers free. "Let me go, -<i>barin,</i> it is time for me to be home."</p> - -<p>"Well, my friend Akulina, I shall certainly call on your father, -Yassili, the blacksmith."</p> - -<p>"For the Lord's sake don't do that. If they knew at home I had been -talking here alone with the young <i>barin,</i> I should catch it. My father -would beat me within an inch of my life."</p> - - -<p>"Well, I must see you again."</p> - -<p>"I will come again some other day for mushrooms."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> - -<p>"When?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow, if you like."</p> - -<p>"My dear Akulina, I would kiss you if I dared. To-morrow, then, at the -same time; that is a bargain."</p> - -<p>"All right."</p> - -<p>"You will not play me false?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Swear it."</p> - -<p>"By the Holy Friday, then, I will come."</p> - -<p>The young couple parted. Lisa ran out of the wood across the fields, -stole into the garden, and rushed headlong into the farmyard, where -Nastia was waiting for her. Then she changed her dress, answering at -random the impatient questions of her <i>confidante</i>, and went into the -dining-room to find the cloth laid and breakfast ready. Miss Jackson, -freshly powdered and Jaced, until she looked like a wine glass, was -cutting thin slices of bread and butter. Her father complimented Lisa -on her early walk.</p> - -<p>"There is no healthier habit," he remarked, "than to rise at daybreak." -He quoted from the English papers several cases of longevity, adding -that all centenarians had abstained from spirits, and made it a -practice to rise at daybreak winter and summer. Lisa did not prove -an attentive listener. She was repeating in her mind the details of -her morning's interview, and as she recalled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> Akulina's conversation -with the young sportsman her conscience smote her. In vain she assured -herself that the bounds of decorum had not been passed. This joke, she -argued, could have no evil consequences, but conscience would not be -quieted. What most disturbed her was her promise to repeat the meeting. -She half decided not to keep her word, but then Alexis, tired of -waiting, might go to seek the blacksmiths daughter in the village and -find the real Akulina—a stout, pockmarked girl—and so discover the -hoax. Alarmed at this she determined to re-enact the part of Akulina. -Alexis was enchanted. All day he thought about his new acquaintance -and at night he dreamt of her. It was scarcely dawn when he was up and -dressed. Without waiting even to load his gun he set out followed by -the faithful Shogar, and ran to the meeting place. Half an hour passed -in undeniable delay. At last he caught a glimpse of a blue <i>sarafan</i> -among the bushes and rushed to meet dear Akulina. She smiled to see his -eagerness; but he saw traces of anxiety and melancholy on her face. He -asked her the cause, and she at last confessed. She had been flighty -and was very sorry for it. She had meant not to keep her promise, and -this meeting at any rate must be the last. She begged him not to seek -to continue an acquaintance which could have no good end. All this, -of course, was said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> in peasant dialect; but the thought and feeling -struck Alexis as unusual in a peasant. In eloquent words he urged -her to abandon this cruel resolution. She should have no reason for -repentance; he would obey her in everything, if only she would not rob -him of his one happiness and let him see her alone three times or even -only twice a week. He spoke with passion, and at the moment he was -really in love. Lisa listened to him in silence.</p> - -<p>"Promise," she said, "to seek no other meetings with me but those which -I myself appoint."</p> - -<p>He was about to swear by the Holy Friday when she stopped him with a -smile.</p> - -<p>"I do not want you to swear. Your word is enough."</p> - -<p>Then together they wandered talking in the wood, till Lisa said:</p> - -<p>"It is time."</p> - -<p>They parted; and Alexis was left to wonder how in two meetings a simple -rustic had gained such influence over him. There was a freshness and -novelty about it all that charmed him, and though the conditions -she imposed were irksome, the thought of breaking his promise never -even entered his mind. After all, in spite of his fatal ring and the -mysterious correspondence, Alexis was a kind and affectionate youth, -with a pure heart still capable of innocent enjoyment. Did I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> consult -only my own wishes I should dwell at length on the meetings of these -young people, their growing love, their mutual trust, and all they did -and all they said. But my pleasure I know would not be shared by the -majority of my readers; so for their sake I will omit them. I will -only say that in a brief two months Alexis was already madly in love, -and Lisa, though more reticent than he was, not indifferent. Happy -in the present they took little thought for the future. Visions of -indissoluble ties flitted not seldom through the minds of both. But -neither mentioned them. For Alexis, however strong his attachment to -Akulina, could not forget the social distance that was between them, -while Lisa, knowing the enmity between their fathers, dared not count -on their becoming reconciled. Besides, her vanity was stimulated by the -vague romantic hope of at last seeing the lord of Tugilovo at the feet -of the daughter of a village blacksmith. Suddenly something happened -which came near to change the course of their true love. One of those -cold bright mornings so common in our Russian autumns Ivan Berestoff -came a-riding. For all emergencies he brought with him six pointers -and a dozen beaters. That same morning Grigori Muromsky, tempted by -the fine weather, saddled his English mare and came trotting through -his agricultural estates. Nearing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> wood he came upon his neighbour -proudly seated in the saddle wearing his fur-lined overcoat. Ivan -Berestoff was waiting for the hare which the beaters were driving with -discordant noises out of the brushwood. If Muromsky could have foreseen -this meeting he would have avoided it. But finding himself suddenly -within pistol-shot there was no escape. Like a cultivated European -gentleman, Muromsky rode up to and addressed his enemy politely. -Berestoff answered with the grace of a chained bear dancing to the -order of his keeper. At this moment out shot the hare and scudded -across the field. Berestoff and his groom shouted to loose the dogs, -and started after them full speed. Muromsky's mare took fright and -bolted. Her rider, who often boasted of his horsemanship, gave her -her head and chuckled inwardly over this opportunity of escaping a -disagreeable companion. But the mare coming at a gallop to an unseen -ditch swerved. Muromsky lost his seat, fell rather heavily on the -frozen ground, and lay there cursing the animal, which, sobered by the -loss of her master, stopped at once. Berestoff galloped to the rescue, -asking if Muromsky was hurt. Meanwhile the groom led up the culprit by -the bridle. Berestoff helped Muromsky into the saddle and then invited -him to his house. Peeling himself under an obligation Muromsky could -not refuse, and so Berestoff returned in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> glory, having killed the hare -and bringing home with him his adversary wounded and almost a prisoner -of war.</p> - -<p>At breakfast the neighbours fell into rather friendly conversation; -Muromsky asked Berestoff to lend him a droshky, confessing that his -fall made it too painful for him to ride back. Berestoff accompanied -him to the outer gate, and before the leavetaking was over Muromsky -Pad obtained from him a promise to come and bring Alexis to a friendly -dinner at Prelutchina next day. So this old enmity which seemed before -so deeply rooted was on the point of ending because the little mare had -taken fright.</p> - -<p>Lisa ran to meet Per father on his return.</p> - -<p>"What has happened, papa?" she asked in astonishment. "Why are you -limping? Where is the mare? Whose droshki is this?"</p> - -<p>"My dear, you will never guess;"—and then he told Per.</p> - -<p>Lisa could not believe Per ears. Before she Pad time to collect herself -she heard that to-morrow both the Berestoffs would come to dinner.</p> - -<p>"What do you say?" she exclaimed, turning pale. "The Berestoffs, father -and son! Dine with us to-morrow! No, papa, you can do as you please, I -certainly do not appear."</p> - -<p>"Why? Are you mad? Since when have you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> become so shy? Have you imbibed -hereditary hatred like a heroine of romance? Come, don't be afoot."</p> - -<p>"No, papa, nothing on earth shall induce me to meet the Berestoffs."</p> - -<p>Her father shrugged his shoulders, and left off arguing. He knew he -could not prevail with her by opposition, so he went to bed after his -memorable ride. Lisa, too, went to her room, and summoned Nastia. -Long did they discuss the coming visit. What will Alexis think on -recognising in the cultivated young lady his Akulina? What opinion will -he form as to her behaviour and her sense? On the other hand, Lisa was -very curious to see how such an unexpected meeting would affect him. -Then an idea struck her. She told it to Nastia, and with rejoicing they -determined to carry it into effect.</p> - -<p>Next morning at breakfast Muromsky asked his daughter whether she still -meant to hide from the Berestoffs.</p> - -<p>"Papa," she answered, "I will receive them if you wish it, on one -condition. However I may appear before them, whatever I may do, you -must promise me not to be angry, and you must show no surprise or -disapproval."</p> - -<p>"At your tricks again!" exclaimed Muromsky, laughing. "Well, well, I -consent; do as you please, my black-eyed mischief."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> With these words -he kissed her forehead, and Lisa ran off to make her preparations.</p> - -<p>Punctually at two, six horses, drawing the home-made carriage, drove -into the courtyard, and skirted the circle of green turf that formed -its centre.</p> - -<p>Old Berestoff, helped by two of Muromsky's servants in livery, mounted -the steps. His son followed immediately on horseback, and the two -together entered the dining-room, where the table was already laid.</p> - -<p>Muromsky gave his guests a cordial welcome, and proposing a tour of -inspection of the garden and live stock before dinner, led them along -his well-swept gravel paths.</p> - -<p>Old Berestoff secretly deplored the time and trouble wasted on such a -useless whim as this Anglo-mania, but politeness forbade him to express -his feelings.</p> - -<p>His son shared neither the disapproval of the careful farmer, nor the -enthusiasm of the complacent Anglo-maniac. He impatiently awaited the -appearance of his hosts daughter, of whom he had often heard; for, -though his heart as we know was no longer free, a young and unknown -beauty might still claim his interest.</p> - -<p>When they had come back and were all seated in the drawing-room, -the old men talked over bygone days, re-telling the stories of the -mess-room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> while Alexis considered what attitude he should assume -towards Lisa. He decided upon a cold preoccupation as most suitable, -and arranged accordingly.</p> - -<p>The door opened, he turned his head round with indifference—with such -proud indifference—that the heart of the most hardened coquette must -have quivered. Unfortunately there came in not Lisa but elderly Miss -Jackson, whitened, laced in, with downcast eyes and her little curtsey, -and Alexis' magnificent military movement failed. Before he could -reassemble his scattered forces the door opened again and this time -entered Lisa. All rose, Muromsky began the introductions, but suddenly -stopped and bit his lip. Lisa, his dark Lisa, was painted white up -to her ears, and pencilled worse than Miss Jackson herself. She wore -false fair ringlets, puffed out like a Louis XIV. wig; her sleeves <i>à -l'imbécille</i> extended like the hoops of Madame de Pompadour. Her figure -was laced in like a letter X, and all those of her mother's diamonds -which had escaped the pawnbroker sparkled on her fingers, neck, and -ears. Alexis could not discover in this ridiculous young lady his -Akulina. His father kissed her hand, and he, much to his annoyance, -had to do the same. As he touched her little white fingers they seemed -to tremble. He noticed, too, a tiny foot intentionally displayed and -shod in the most coquettish of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> shoes. This reconciled him a little to -the rest of her attire. The white paint and black pencilling—to tell -the truth—in his simplicity he did not notice at first, nor indeed -afterwards.</p> - -<p>Grigori Muromsky, remembering his promise, tried not to show surprise; -for the rest, he was so much amused at his daughter's mischief, that -he could scarcely keep his countenance. For the prim Englishwoman, -however, it was no laughing matter. She guessed that the white and -black paint had been abstracted from her drawer, and a red patch of -indignation shone through the artificial whiteness of her face. Flaming -glances shot from her eyes at the young rogue, who, reserving all -explanation for the future, pretended not to notice them. They sat down -to table, Alexis continuing his performance as an absent-minded pensive -man. Lisa was all affectation. She minced her words, drawled, and would -speak only in French. Her father glanced at her from time to time, -unable to divine her object, but he thought it all a great joke. The -Englishwoman fumed, but said nothing. Ivan Berestoff alone felt at his -ease. He ate for two, drank his fill, and as the meal went on became -more and more friendly, and laughed louder and louder.</p> - -<p>At last they rose from the table. The guests departed and Muromsky gave -vent to his mirth and curiosity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What made you play such tricks upon them?" he inquired. "Do you know, -Lisa, that white paint really becomes you? I do not wish to pry into -the secrets of a lady's toilet, but if I were you I should always -paint, not too much, of course, but a little."</p> - -<p>Lisa was delighted with her success. She kissed her father, promised -to consider his suggestion, and ran off to propitiate the enraged Miss -Jackson, whom she could scarcely prevail upon to open the door and hear -her excuses.</p> - -<p>Lisa was ashamed, she said, to show herself before the visitors—such a -blackamoor. She had not dared to ask; she knew dear kind Miss Jackson -would forgive her.</p> - -<p>Miss Jackson, persuaded that her pupil had not meant to ridicule her, -became pacified, kissed Lisa, and in token of forgiveness presented her -with a little pot of English white, which the latter, with expressions -of deep gratitude, accepted.</p> - -<p>Next morning, as the reader will have guessed, Lisa hastened to the -meeting in the wood.</p> - -<p>"You were yesterday at our master's, sir?" she began to Alexis. "What -did you think of our young lady?"</p> - -<p>Alexis answered that he had not observed her.</p> - -<p>"That is a pity."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Because I wanted to ask you if what they say is true."</p> - -<p>"What do they say?"</p> - -<p>"That I resemble our young lady; do you think so?"</p> - -<p>"What nonsense, she is a deformity beside you!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! <i>barin,</i> it is a sin of you to say so. Our young lady is so fair, -so elegant! How can I vie with her?"</p> - -<p>Alexis vowed that she was prettier than all imaginable fair young -ladies, and to appease her thoroughly, began describing her young lady -so funnily that Lisa burst into a hearty laugh.</p> - -<p>"Still," she said, with a sigh, "though she may be ridiculous, yet by -her side I am an illiterate fool."</p> - -<p>"Well, that <i>is</i> a thing to worry yourself about. If you like I will -teach you to read at once."</p> - -<p>"Are you in earnest, shall I really try?"</p> - -<p>"If you like, my darling, we will begin at once."</p> - -<p>They sat down. Alexis produced a pencil and note-book, and Akulina -proved astonishingly quick in learning the alphabet. Alexis wondered at -her intelligence. At their next meeting she wished to learn to write. -The pencil at first would not obey her, but in a few minutes she could -trace the letters pretty well.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How wonderfully we get on, faster than by the Lancaster method."</p> - -<p>Indeed, at the third lesson Akulina could read words of even three -syllables, and the intelligent remarks with which she interrupted the -lessons fairly astonished Alexis. As for writing she covered a whole -page with aphorisms, taken from the story she had been reading. A week -passed and they had begun a correspondence. Their post-office was the -trunk of an old oak, and Nastia secretly played the part of postman. -Thither Alexis would bring his letters, written in a large round hand, -and there he found the letters of his beloved scrawled on coarse blue -paper. Akulina's style was evidently improving, and her mind clearly -was developing under cultivation.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the new-made acquaintance between Berestoff and Muromsky -grew stronger, soon it became friendship. Muromsky often reflected -that on the death of old Berestoff his property would come to Alexis, -who would then be one of the richest landowners in that province. Why -should he not marry Lisa? Old Berestoff, on the other hand, though he -looked on his neighbour as a lunatic, did not deny that he possessed -many excellent qualities, among them a certain cleverness. Muromsky -was related to Count Pronsky, a distinguished and influential man. -The count might be very useful to Alexis, and Muromsky<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> (so thought -Berestoff) would probably be glad to marry his daughter so well. Both -the old men pondered all this so thoroughly that at last they broached -the subject, confabulated, embraced, and severally began a plan of -campaign. Muromsky foresaw one difficulty—how to persuade his Betty to -make the better acquaintance of Alexis, whom she had never seen since -the memorable dinner. They hardly seemed to suit each other well. At -any rate Alexis had not renewed his visit to Prelutchina. Whenever old -Berestoff called Lisa made a point of retreating to her own room.</p> - -<p>"But," thought Muromsky, "if Alexis called every day Betty could not -help falling in love with him. That is the way to manage it. Time will -settle everything."</p> - -<p>Berestoff troubled himself less about his plans. That same evening -he called his son into his study, lit his pipe, and, after a short -silence, began:</p> - -<p>"You have not spoken about the army lately, Alexis. Has the Hussar -uniform lost its attraction for you?"</p> - -<p>"No, father," he replied respectfully. "I know you do not wish me to -join the Hussars. It is my duty to consult your wishes."</p> - -<p>"I am pleased to find you such an obedient son, still I do not wish -to force your inclinations.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> I will not insist upon your entering the -Civil Service at once; and in the meantime I mean to marry you."</p> - -<p>"To whom, father?" exclaimed his astonished son.</p> - -<p>"To Lisa Muromskaia; she is good enough for any one, isn't she?"</p> - -<p>"Father, I did not think of marrying just yet."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not, but I have thought about it for you."</p> - -<p>"As you please, but I don't care about Lisa Muromskaia at all."</p> - -<p>"You will care about her afterwards. You will get used to her, and you -will learn to love her."</p> - -<p>"I feel I could not make her happy."</p> - -<p>"You need not trouble yourself about that. All you have to do is to -respect the wishes of your father."</p> - -<p>"I do not wish to marry, and I won't."</p> - -<p>"You shall marry or I will curse you; and, by Heaven, I will sell and -squander my property, and not leave you a farthing! I will give you -three days for reflection, and, in the meanwhile, do not dare to show -your face in my presence."</p> - -<p>Alexis knew that when his father took a thing into his head nothing -could knock it out again; but then Alexis was as obstinate as his -father.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> He went to his room and there reflected upon the limits of -parental authority, on Lisa Muromskaia, his father's threat to make him -a beggar, and finally he thought of Akulina.</p> - -<p>For the first time he clearly saw how much he loved her. The romantic -idea of marrying a peasant girl and working for a living came into his -mind; and the more he thought of it, the more he approved it. Their -meetings in the wood had been stopped of late by the wet weather.</p> - -<p>He wrote to Akulina in the roundest hand and the maddest style, telling -her of his impending ruin, and asking her to be his wife. He took -the letter at once to the tree trunk, dropped it in, and went much -satisfied with himself to bed.</p> - -<p>Next morning, firm in resolution, he started early to call on Muromsky -and explain the situation. He meant to win him over by appealing to his -generosity.</p> - -<p>"Is Mr. Muromsky at home?" he asked reining up his horse at the porch.</p> - -<p>"No, sir, Mr. Muromsky went out early this morning."</p> - -<p>How provoking, thought Alexis.</p> - -<p>"Well, is Miss Lisa at home?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>And throwing the reins to the footman, Alexis leapt from his horse and -entered unannounced.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It will soon be over," he thought, going towards the drawing-room. -"I will explain to Miss Muromsky herself." He entered ... and was -transfixed. Lisa!... no, Akulina, dear, dark Akulina, wearing no -<i>sarafan</i> but a white morning frock, sat by the window reading his -letter. So intent was she upon it that she did not hear him enter. -Alexis could not repress a cry of delight. Lisa started, raised her -hand, cried out, and attempted to run away. He rushed to stop her. -"Akulina! Akulina!" Lisa tried to free herself.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mais laissez moi donc, Monsieur! mais êtes vous fou?</i>" she repeated, -turning away.</p> - -<p>"Akulina! my darling Akulina!" he repeated, kissing her hand.</p> - -<p>Miss Jackson, who was an eye-witness of this scene, knew not what to -think. The door opened and Grigori Muromsky entered.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" cried he, "you seem to have settled things between you."...</p> - -<p>The reader will excuse me the unnecessary trouble of winding up.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="KIRDJALI" id="KIRDJALI">KIRDJALI.</a></h3> - - -<p>Kirdjali was by birth a Bulgarian.</p> - -<p>Kirdjali, in Turkish, means a bold fellow, a knight-errant.</p> - -<p>Kirdjali with his depredations brought terror upon the whole of -Moldavia. To give some idea of him I will relate one of his exploits. -One night he and the Arnout Michailaki fell together upon a Bulgarian -village. They set fire to it from both ends and went from hut to hut, -Kirdjali killing, while Michailaki carried off the plunder. Both cried, -"Kirdjali! Kirdjali!" and the whole village ran.</p> - -<p>When Alexander Ipsilanti proclaimed the insurrection and began raising -his army, Kirdjali brought him several of his old followers. They -knew little of the real object of the <i>hetairi.</i> But war presented an -opportunity for getting rich at the expense of the Turks, and perhaps -of the Moldavians too.</p> - -<p>Alexander Ipsilanti was personally brave, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> he was wanting in -the qualities necessary for playing the part he had with such eager -recklessness assumed. He did not know how to manage the people under -his command. They had neither respect for him nor confidence.</p> - -<p>After the unfortunate battle, when the flower of Greek youth fell, -Jordaki Olimbisti advised him to retire, and himself took his place. -Ipsilanti escaped to the frontiers of Austria, whence he sent his -curse to the people whom he now stigmatised as mutineers, cowards, and -blackguards. These cowards and blackguards mostly perished within the -walls of the monastery of Seke, or on the banks of the Pruth, defending -themselves desperately against a foe ten times their number.</p> - -<p>Kirdjali belonged to the detachment commanded by George Cantacuzène, of -whom might be repeated what has already been said of Ipsilanti.</p> - -<p>On the eve of the battle near Skuliana, Cantacuzène asked permission -of the Russian authorities to enter their quarters. The band was left -without a commander. But Kirdjali, Sophianos, Cantagoni, and others had -no need of a commander.</p> - -<p>The battle of Skuliana seems not to have been described by any one in -all its pathetic truth. Just imagine seven hundred Arnouts, Albanians, -Greeks, Bulgarians, and every kind of rabble, with no notion of -military art, retreating within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> sight of fifteen thousand Turkish -cavalry. The band kept close to the banks of the Pruth, placing in -front two tiny cannons, found at Jassy, in the courtyard of the -Hospodar, and which had formerly been used for firing salutes on -festive occasions.</p> - -<p>The Turks would have been glad to use their cartridges, but dared not -without permission from the Russian authorities; for the shots would -have been sure to fly over to our banks. The commander of the Russian -military post (now dead), though he had been forty years in the army, -had never heard the whistle of a bullet; but he was fated to hear it -now. Several bullets buzzed passed his ears. The old man got very angry -and began to swear at Ohotsky, major of one of the infantry battalions. -The major, not knowing what to do, ran towards the river, on the other -side of which some insurgent cavalry were capering about. He shook his -finger at them, on which they turned round and galloped along, with -the whole Turkish army after them. The major who had shaken his finger -was called Hortchevsky. I don't know what became of him. The next day, -however, the Turks attacked the Arnouts. Hot daring to use cartridges -or cannon balls, they resolved, contrary to their custom, to employ -cold steel. The battle was fierce. The combatants slashed and stabbed -one another.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Turks were seen with lances, which, hitherto they had never -possessed, and these lances were Russian. Our Nekrassoff refugees were -fighting in their ranks. The <i>hetairi,</i> thanks to the permission of our -Emperor, were allowed to cross the Pruth and seek the protection of our -garrison. They began to cross the river, Cantagoni and Sophianos being -the last to quit the Turkish bank; Kirdjali, wounded the day before, -was already lying in Russian quarters. Sophianos was killed. Cantagoni, -a very stout man, was wounded with a spear in his stomach. With one -hand he raised his sword, with the other he seized the enemy's spear, -pushed it deeper into himself, and by that means was able to reach his -murderer with his own sword, when they fell together.</p> - -<p>All was over. The Turks remained victorious, Moldavia was cleared of -insurgents. About six hundred Arnouts were scattered over Bessarabia. -Unable to obtain the means of subsistence, they still felt grateful -to Russia for her protection. They led an idle though not a dissolute -life. They could be seen in coffee-houses of half Turkish Bessarabia, -with long pipes in their mouths sipping thick coffee out of small cups. -Their figured Zouave jackets and red slippers with pointed toes were -beginning to look shabby. But they still wore their tufted scull-cap -on one side of the head; and daggers and pistols still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> protruded -from beneath, their broad girdles. No one complained of them. It -was impossible to imagine that these poor, peaceable fellows were -the celebrated pikemen of Moldavia, the followers of the ferocious -Kirdjali, and that he himself had been one of them.</p> - -<p>The Pasha governing Jassy heard of all this, and, on the basis of -treaty rights, requested the Russian authorities to deliver up the -brigand. The police made inquiries, and found that Kirdjali really was -at Kishineff. They captured him in the house of a runaway monk in the -evening, while he was at supper, sitting in the twilight with seven -comrades.</p> - -<p>Kirdjali was arraigned. He did not attempt to conceal the truth. He -owned he was Kirdjali.</p> - -<p>"But," he added, "since I crossed the Pruth, I have not touched a -hair of property that did not belong to me, nor have I cheated the -meanest gipsy. To the Turks, the Moldavians, and the Walachians I am -certainly a brigand, but to the Russians a guest. When Sophianos, after -exhausting all his cartridges, came over here, he collected buttons -from the uniforms, nails, watch-chains, and nobs from the daggers for -the final discharge, and I myself handed him twenty <i>beshléks</i> to fire -off, leaving myself without money. God is my witness that I, Kirdjali, -lived by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> charity. Why then do the Russians now hand me over to my -enemies?"</p> - -<p>After that Kirdjali was silent, and quietly awaited his fate. It was -soon announced to him. The authorities, not thinking themselves hound -to look upon brigandage from its romantic side, and admitting the -justice of the Turkish demand, ordered Kirdjali to be given up that he -might be sent to Jassy.</p> - -<p>A man of brains and feeling, at that time young and unknown, but -now occupying an important post, gave me a graphic description of -Kirdjali's departure.</p> - -<p>"At the gates of the prison," he said, "stood a hired <i>karutsa.</i> -Perhaps you don't know what a <i>karutsa</i> is? It is a low -basket-carriage, to which quite recently used to be harnessed six or -eight miserable screws. A Moldavian, with a moustache and a sheepskin -hat, sitting astride one of the horses, cried out and cracked his whip -every moment, and his wretched little beasts went on at a sharp trot. -If one of them began to lag, then he unharnessed it with terrific -cursing and left it on the road, not caring what became of it. On the -return journey he was sure to find them in the same place, calmly -grazing on the steppes. Frequently a traveller starting from a station -with eight horses would arrive at the next with a pair only. It was -so about fifteen years ago. Now in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> Russianized Bessarabia, Russian -harness and Russian <i>telegas</i> (carts) have been adopted.</p> - -<p>"Such a <i>karutsa</i> as I have described stood at the gate of the jail in -1821, towards the end of September. Jewesses with their sleeves hanging -down and with flapping slippers, Arnouts in ragged but picturesque -costumes, stately Moldavian women with black-eyed children in their -arms, surrounded the <i>harutsa.</i> The men maintained silence. The women -were excited, as if expecting something to happen.</p> - -<p>"The gates opened, and several police officers stepped into the street, -followed by two soldiers leading Kirdjali in chains.</p> - -<p>"He looked about thirty. The features of his dark face were regular and -austere. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and seemed to possess great -physical strength. He wore a variegated turban on the side of his head, -and a broad sash round his slender waist. A dolman of thick, dark blue -cloth, the wide plaits of his over-shirt falling just above the knees, -and a pair of handsome slippers completed his dress. His bearing was -calm and haughty.</p> - -<p>"One of the officials, a red-faced old man in a faded uniform, with -three buttons hanging loose, a pair of lead spectacles which pinched -a crimson knob doing duty for a nose, unrolled a paper, and stooping, -began to read in the Moldavian tongue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> From time to time he glanced -haughtily at the handcuffed Kirdjali, to whom apparently the document -referred. Kirdjali listened attentively. The official finished his -reading, folded the paper, and called out sternly to the people, -ordering them to make way for the <i>karutsa</i> to drive up. Then Kirdjali, -turning towards him, said a few words in Moldavian; his voice trembled, -his countenance changed, he burst into tears, and fell at the feet of -the police officer, with a clanking of his chains. The police officer, -in alarm, started back; the soldiers were going to raise Kirdjali, but -he got up of his own accord, gathered up his chains, and stepping into -the <i>harutsa</i>, cried <i>egaida!'</i></p> - -<p>"The gens d'armes got in by his side, the Moldavian cracked his whip, -and the <i>karutsa</i> rolled away.</p> - -<p>"What was Kirdjali saying to you? inquired a young official of the -police officer.</p> - -<p>"He asked me," replied the officer, smiling, "to take care of his -wife and child, who live a short distance from Kilia, in a Bulgarian -village; he is afraid they might suffer through him. The rabble are so -ignorant!'"</p> - -<p>The young official's story affected me greatly. I was sorry for poor -Kirdjali. For a long while I knew nothing of his fate. Many years -afterwards I met the young official. We began talking of old times.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How about your friend Kirdjali?" I asked. "Do you know what became of -him?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I do," he replied, and he told me the following.</p> - -<p>After being brought to Jassy, Kirdjali was taken before the Pasha, -who condemned him to be impaled. The execution was postponed till -some feast day. Meanwhile he was put in confinement. The prisoner was -guarded by seven Turks—common people, and at the bottom of their -hearts brigands like himself. They respected him and listened with -the eagerness of true orientals to his wonderful stories. Between the -guards and their prisoner a close friendship sprang up. On one occasion -Kirdjali said to them:</p> - -<p>"Brothers! My hour is near. No one can escape his doom. I shall soon -part from you, and I should like to leave you something in remembrance -of me." The Turks opened their ears.</p> - -<p>"Brothers;" added Kirdjali, "three years back, when I was engaged in -brigandage with the late Mihailaki, we buried in the Steppes, not far -from Jassy, a kettle with some coins in it. Seemingly, neither he nor -I will ever possess that treasure. So be it; take it to yourselves and -divide it amicably."</p> - -<p>The Turks nearly went crazy. They began considering how they could find -the spot so vaguely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> indicated. They thought and thought, and at last -decided that Kirdjali must himself show them.</p> - -<p>Night set in. The Turks took off the fetters that weighed upon the -prisoner's feet, hound his hands with a rope, and taking him with them, -started for the Steppes. Kirdjali led them, going in a straight line -from one mound to another. They walked about for some time. At last -Kirdjali stopped close to a broad stone, measured a dozen steps to the -south, stamped, and said, "Here."</p> - -<p>The Turks arranged themselves for work. Four took out their daggers and -began digging the earth, while three remained on guard. Kirdjali sat -down on the stone, and looked on.</p> - -<p>"Well, now, shall you be long?" he inquired; "have you found it?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet," replied the Turks, and they worked away till the -perspiration rolled like hail from them.</p> - -<p>Kirdjali grew impatient.</p> - -<p>"What people!" he exclaimed; "they can't even dig decently. Why, I -should have found it in two minutes. Children! Untie my hands, and give -me a dagger."</p> - -<p>The Turks reflected, and began to consult with one another.</p> - -<p>"Why not?" they concluded. "We will release his hands, and give him a -dagger. What can it matter? He is only one, while we are seven."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> - -<p>And the Turks unbound his bands and gave him a dagger.</p> - -<p>At last Kirdjali was free and armed. What must have been his -sensations. He began digging rapidly, the guard assisting. Suddenly he -thrust his dagger into one of them, leaving the blade sticking in the -man's breast; he snatched from his girdle a couple of pistols.</p> - -<p>The remaining six, seeing Kirdjali armed with two pistols, ran away.</p> - -<p>Kirdjali is now carrying on his brigandage near Jassy. Not long ago -he wrote to the Hospodar, demanding from him five thousand louis, and -threatening, in the event of the money not being paid, to set fire to -Jassy, and to reach the Hospodar himself. The five thousand louis were -forwarded to him.</p> - -<p>A fine fellow Kirdjali!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3>THE HISTORY OF THE VILLAGE OF GOROHINA.</h3> - - -<p>Of all professions that of a man of letters has always seemed to me -most enviable.</p> - -<p>My parents, respectable but humble folk, had been brought up in the old -fashion. They never read anything; and beyond an alphabet (bought for -me), an almanack, and the latest letter-writer, they had no books in -the house.</p> - -<p>The letter-writer had long provided me with entertainment. I knew it by -heart, yet daily found in it fresh beauties; and next to General N——, -to whom my father had been <i>aide-de-camp,</i> Kurganoff, its author, was, -in my estimation, one of the greatest men. I questioned everyone about -him; but unhappily no one could gratify my curiosity. Nobody knew him -personally. To all my questioning the reply was that Kurganoff was the -author of the latest letter-writer, but that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> knew already. He was -wrapped in darkness and mystery like some ancient demi-god. At times -I doubted even his existence. His name was perhaps an invention, the -legend about him an empty myth awaiting the investigation of some -new Niebuhr. Nevertheless he dogged my imagination. I tried to give -some form to this very personage, and finally decided that he must be -like the land-judge, Koriuchkin, a little old man with a red nose and -glittering eyes.</p> - -<p>In 1812 I was taken to Moscow and placed at a boarding school belonging -to Karl Ivanovitch Meyer. There I stayed only some three months, -because the school broke up in anticipation of the enemy's coming. I -returned to the country.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This epoch of my life was to me so important that I shall dilate upon -it, apologizing beforehand if I trespass upon the good nature of the -reader.</p> - -<p>It was a dull autumn day. On reaching the station whence I must turn -off to Gorohina (that was the name of our village) I engaged horses, -and drove off by the country road. Though naturally calm, so impatient -was I to revisit the scenes where I had passed the best years of my -life, that I kept urging the driver to quicken speed with alternate -promises of vodka and threats of chastisement. How much easier it was -to belabour him than to unloose my purse.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> I own I struck him twice or -thrice, a thing I had never done in my life before. I don't know why, -but I had a great liking for drivers as a class.</p> - -<p>The driver urged his troika to a quicker pace, but to me it seemed that -public-driver-like he coaxed the horses and waved his whip but at the -same time tightened the reins. At last I caught sight of Gorohina wood, -and in ten minutes more we drove into the courtyard of the manor house.</p> - -<p>My heart beat violently. I looked round with unwonted emotion. For -eight years I had not seen Gorohina. The little birches which I had -seen planted near the palings had now grown into tall branching trees. -The courtyard, once adorned with three regular flower beds divided by -broad gravel paths, was now an unmown meadow, the grazing land of a red -cow.</p> - -<p>My britchka stopped at the front door. My servant went to open it, but -it was fastened; yet the shutters were open, and the house seemed to be -inhabited. A woman emerging from a servant's hut asked what I wanted. -Hearing the master had arrived, she ran back into the hut, and soon -I had all the inhabitants of the courtyard around me. I was deeply -touched to see the known and unknown faces, and I greeted each with a -friendly kiss.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> - -<p>The boys my playmates had grown to men. The girls who used to squat -upon the floor and run with such alacrity on errands were married -women. The men wept. To the women I said unceremoniously:</p> - -<p>"How you have aged." And they answered sadly:</p> - -<p>"And you, little father, how plain you have grown."</p> - -<p>They led me towards the back entrance; I was met by my old -wet-nurse, by whom I was welcomed back with sobs and tears, like the -much-suffering Ulysses. They hastened to heat the bath. The cook, who -in his long holiday had grown a beard, offered to cook my dinner or -supper, for it was growing dark. The rooms hitherto occupied by my -nurse and my late mother's maids were at once got ready for me. Thus I -found myself in the humble home of my parents, and fell asleep in that -room where three-and-twenty years before I had been born.</p> - -<p>Some three weeks passed in business of various kinds. I was engaged -with land judges, presidents, and every imaginable official of the -province. Finally I got possession of my inheritance. I was contented: -but soon the dulness of inaction began to torment me. I was not -yet acquainted with my kind and venerable neighbour N—— Domestic -occupations were altogether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> strange to me. The conversation of my -nurse, whom I promoted to the rank of housekeeper, consisted of fifteen -family anecdotes. I found them very interesting, but as she always -related them in the same way she soon became for me another Niebuhr -letter-writer, in which I knew precisely on what page every particular -line occurred. That worthy book I found in the storeroom among a -quantity of rubbish sadly dilapidated. I brought it out into the light -and began to read it; but Kurganoff had lost his charm. I read him -through once more and never after opened him again.</p> - -<p>In this extremity it struck me:</p> - -<p>"Why not write myself?" The reader has been already told that I was -educated on copper money. Besides, to become an author seemed so -difficult, so unattainable, that the idea of writing quite frightened -me at first. Dare I hope ever to be numbered amongst writers, when my -ardent wish even to meet one had not yet been gratified? This reminds -me of something which I shall tell to show my unbounded enthusiasm for -my native literature.</p> - -<p>In 1820, while yet an ensign, I chanced to be on government business at -Petersburg. I stayed a week; and although I had not one acquaintance -in he place, I passed the time very pleasantly. I went daily to the -theatre, modestly to the fourth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> row in the gallery. I learnt the -names of all the actors and fell passionately in love with B——. She -had played one Sunday with great artistic feeling as Eulalie in <i>Hass -und Reue</i> (in English <i>The Stranger.</i>) In the morning, on my way from -headquarters, I would call at a small confectioner's, drink a cup of -chocolate, and read a literary journal. One day, while thus deep in an -article "by Goodintention, some one in a pea-green greatcoat suddenly -approached and gently withdrew the <i>Hamburg Gazette</i> from under my -newspaper. I was so occupied that I did not look up. The stranger -ordered a steak and sat down facing me. I went on reading without -noticing him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile he finished his luncheon, scolded the waiter for some -carelessness, drank half a bottle of wine, and left. Two young men were -also lunching.</p> - -<p>"Do you know who that was?" inquired one of them.</p> - -<p>"That was Goodintention ... the writer."</p> - -<p>"The writer!" I exclaimed involuntarily, and leaving the article unread -and the cup of chocolate undrunk, I hastily paid my reckoning, and -without waiting for the change rushed into the street. Looking round I -descried in the distance the pea-green coat and dashed along the Nevsky -Prospect almost at a run. When I had gone several steps I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> felt myself -stopped by some one, and looking back I found I had been noticed by an -officer of the guards. I; ought not to have knocked against him on the -pavement, but rather to have stopped and saluted. After this reprimand -I was more careful. Unluckily I met an officer every moment, and every -moment I had to stop, while the author got farther and farther away. -Never before had my soldier's overcoat proved so irksome, never had -epaulettes appeared so enviable. At last near the Annitchkin Bridge I -came up with the pea-green greatcoat.</p> - -<p>"May I inquire," I said, saluting, "are you Mr. Goodintention, whose -excellent article I have had the pleasure of reading in the <i>Zealous -Enlightener?</i>"</p> - -<p>"Not at all," he replied. "I am not a writer but a lawyer. But I know -Goodintention very well. A quarter of an hour ago I passed him at the -Police Bridge." In this way my respect for Russian letters cost me -80 kopecks of change, an official reprimand, and a narrow escape of -arrest, and all in vain.</p> - -<p>In spite of all the protest of my reason, the audacious thought of -becoming a writer kept recurring. At last, unable longer to resist it, -I made a thick copy book and resolved to fill it somehow. All kinds -of poems (humble prose did not yet enter into my reckoning) were in -turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> considered and approved. I decided to write an epic furnished on -Russian history. I was not long in finding a hero. I chose Rurik, and I -set to work.</p> - -<p>I had acquired a certain aptitude for rhymes, by copying those in -manuscript which used to circulate among our officers, such as the -criticism on the Moscow Boulevards, the Presnensky Ponds, and the -Dangerous Neighbour. In spite of that my poem progressed slowly, -and at the third verse I dropped it. I concluded that the epic was -not my style, and began <i>Rurik</i>, <i>a Tragedy.</i> The tragedy halted. I -turned it into a ballad, but the ballad hardly seemed to do. At last -I had a happy thought. I began and succeeded in finishing an ode to a -portrait of Rurik. Despite the inauspicious character of such a title, -particularly for a young bard's first work, I yet felt that I had not -been born a poet, and after this first attempt desisted. These essays -in authorship gave me so great a taste for writing that I could now no -longer abstain from paper and ink. I could descend to prose. But at -first I wished to avoid the preliminary construction of a plot and the -connection of parts. I resolved to write detached thoughts without any -connection or order, just as they struck me. Unfortunately the thoughts -would not come, and in the course of two whole days the only thought -that struck me was the following:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> - -<p>He who disobeys reason and yields to the inclination of his passions -often goes wrong and ends by repenting when it is too late.</p> - -<p>This though no doubt true enough was not original.</p> - -<p>Abandoning aphorism I took to tales; but being too unpractised in -arranging incidents I selected such remarkable occurrences as I had -heard of at various times and tried to ornament the truth by a lively -style and the flowers of my own imagination. Composing these tales -little by little, I formed my style and learnt to express myself -correctly, pleasantly, and freely. My stock was soon exhausted, and I -again began to seek a subject.</p> - -<p>To abandon these childish anecdotes of doubtful authenticity, and -narrate real and great events instead, was an idea by which I had long -been haunted.</p> - -<p>To be the judge, the observer, and the prophet of ages and of peoples -seemed to me a most attainable object of ambition to a writer. What -history could I write—I with my pitiable education? Where was I not -forestalled by highly cultivated and conscientious men? What history -had they left unexhausted. Should I write a universal history? But was -there not already the immortal work of Abbé Millot. A national history -of Russia, what could I say after Tatishtcheff Bolitin and Golikoff? -And was it for me to burrow amongst records and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> to penetrate the -occult meaning of a dead language—for me who could never master the -Slavonian alphabet? Why not try a history on a smaller scale?—for -instance, the history of our town! But even here how very numerous -and insuperable seemed the obstacles—a journey to the town, a visit -to the governor and the bishop, permission to examine the archives, -the monastery, the cellars, and so on. The history of our town would -have been easier; but it could interest neither the philosopher nor -the artist, and afford but little opening for eloquence. The only -noteworthy record in its annals relates to a terrible fire ten years -ago which burnt the bazaar and the courts of justice. An accident -settled my doubts. A woman hanging linen in a loft found an old -basket full of shavings, dust, and books. The whole household knew my -passion for reading. My housekeeper while I sat over my paper gnawing -my pen and meditating on the experience of country prophets entered -triumphantly dragging a basket into my room, and bringing joyfully -"books! books!"</p> - -<p>Books! I repeated in delight as I rushed to the basket. Actually a pile -of them with covers of green and of blue paper. It was a collection of -old almanacks. My ardour was cooled by the discovery, still they were -books, and I generously rewarded her pains with half a silver ruble.</p> - -<p>When she had gone I began to examine my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> almanacks; I soon became -absorbed. They formed a complete series from 1744 to 1799 including -exactly 55 years. The blue sheets of paper usually bound in the -almanacks were covered with old-fashioned handwriting. Skimming these -lines I noticed with surprise that besides remarks on the weather -and accounts they contained scraps of historical information about -the village of Gorohina. Among these valuable documents I began my -researches, and soon found that they presented a full history of my -native place for nearly a century, in chronological order, besides an -exhaustive store of economical, statistical, meteorological, and other -learned information. Thenceforth the study of these documents took up -my time, for I perceived that from them a stately, instructive, and -interesting history could be made. As I became sufficiently acquainted -with these valuable notes, I began to search for new sources of -information about the village of Gorohina, and I soon became astonished -at the wealth of material. After devoting six months to a preliminary -study of them, I at last began the long wished for work; and by God's -grace completed the same on the 3rd of November, 1827. To-day, like a -fellow-historian, whose name I do not recollect, having finished my -hard task, I lay down my pen and sadly walk into my garden to meditate -upon my performance. It seems even to me that now the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> history of -Gorohina is finished I am no longer wanted in the world. My task is -ended; and it is time for me to die.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I add a list of the sources whence I drew the history of Gorohina.</p> - -<p>I. A collection of ancient almanacks in fifty fifty—five parts. Of -these the first twenty are covered with an old-fashioned writing; -much abbreviated. The manuscript is that of my grandfather; Andrei -Stepanovitch Belkin; and is remarkably clear and concise. For example: -4th of May. Snow.</p> - -<p>Trishka for his impertinence beaten. 6th. The red cow died. Senka for -drunkenness beaten. 8th. A fine day. 9th. Rain and snow. Trishka for -drunkenness beaten.... and so on without comment. 11th. The weather -fine, first snow; hunted three hares. The remaining thirty-five parts -were in various hands mostly commercial with or without abbreviations, -usually profuse; disjointed; and incorrectly written. Here and there a -feminine handwriting appeared. In these years occurred my grandfather's -notes about his wife Bupraxic Aleksevna; others written by her and -others by the steward Grobovitsky.</p> - -<p>II. The notes of the Gorohina church clerk. This curious manuscript -was discovered by me at the house of my priest; who has married the -daughter of the writer. The first earlier sheets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> had been torn out and -used by the priests children for making kites. One of these had fallen -in the middle of my yard. I picked it up? and was about to restore it -to the children when I noticed that it was written on. From the first -lines I saw that the kite was made out of some one's journal. Luckily I -was in time to save the rest. These journals, which I got for a measure -of oats, are remarkable for depth of thought and dignity of expression.</p> - -<p>III. Oral legends. I despised no source of information, but I am -specially indebted for much of this to Agrafena Tryphonovna, the mother -of Avdei the starosta and reputed mistress of the steward Grobovitsky.</p> - -<p>IV. Registry reports with remarks by the former <i>starosta</i> on the -morality and condition of the peasants.</p> - -<p>"31st October, 1830. Fabulous Times. The Starosta Tryphon."</p> - -<p>The foundation of Gorohina and the history of its original inhabitants -are lost in obscurity. Dark legend tells how that Gorohina was once a -large and wealthy village, that all its inhabitants were rich, that -the obrok (the land proprietor's tithes) was collected once a year and -carted off in loads no one knew to whom. At that time everything was -bought cheap and sold dear. There were no stewards, and the elders -dealt fairly by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> all. The inhabitants worked little and lived merrily. -The shepherds as they watched their flocks wore boots. We must not be -deceived by this charming picture. The notion of a golden age is common -to all nations, and only proves that as people are never contented with -the present, and derive from experience small hope for the future, -they adorn the irrevocable past with all the hues of fancy. What is -certain, however, is that the village of Gorohina from ancient times -has belonged to the distinguished race of Belkins. But these ancestors -of mine had many other estates, and paid but little attention to this -remote village. Gorohina paid small tithe and was managed by elders -elected by the people in common council.</p> - -<p>At that early period the inheritance of the Belkins was broken up, and -fell in value. The impoverished grandchildren of the rich grandsire, -unable to give up their luxurious habits, required from an estate now -only producing one tenth of its former revenue the full income of -former times. Threats followed threats. The starosta read them out in -common council. The elders declaimed, the commune agitated, and the -masters, instead of the double tithes, received tiresome excuses and -humble complaints written on dirty paper and sealed with a <i>polushka</i> -(less than a farthing).</p> - -<p>A sombre cloud hung over Gorohina; but no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> one heeded it. In the last -year of Tryphon's power, the last of the starostas chosen by the -people, the day of the church festival, when the whole population -either crowded noisily round the house of entertainment (the -public-house) or wandered through the streets embracing one another -or loudly singing the songs of Arhip the Bald, there drove into the -courtyard a covered hired <i>britchka</i> drawn by a couple of half-dead -screws, with a ragged Jew upon the box. From the britchka a head in a -cap looked out and seemed to peer curiously at the merry-making crowd. -The inhabitants greeted the carriage with laughter and rude jokes. -With the flaps of their coats turned up the madmen mocked the Jewish -driver, shouting in doggrell rhyme, "Jew, Jew, eat a pig's ear." But -how great was their astonishment (wrote the clerk) when the carriage -stopped in the middle of the village and the occupant jumped out, and -in an authoritative voice called for the starosta Tryphon. This officer -was in the house of pleasure, whence two elders led him forth holding -him under the arms. The stranger looked at him sternly, handed him a -letter, and told him to read it at once. The starostas of Gorohina -were in the habit of never reading anything themselves. The rural -clerk Avdei was sent for. He was found asleep under a hedge and was -brought before the stranger. But either from the sudden fright or from -a sad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> fore-boding, the words distinctly written in the letter appeared -to him in a mist, and he could not read them. The stranger sent the -starosta Tryphon and the rural clerk Avdei with terrible curses to -bed, postponing the reading of the letter till the morrow and entered -the office hut, whither the Jew carried his small trunk. The people -of Gorohina looked in amazement at this unusual incident, but the -carriage, the stranger, and the Jew were quickly forgotten. They ended -their day with noise and merriment, and Gorohina went to sleep without -presentiments of the future.</p> - -<p>At sunrise the inhabitants were awakened with knockings at the windows -and a call to a meeting of the commune. The citizens one after the -other appeared in the courtyard round the office hut, which served as -a council ground. Their eyes were dim and red, their faces swollen; -yawning and scratching their heads, they stared at the man with the -cap, in an old blue caftan, standing pompously on the steps of the -office hut, while they tried to recollect his features, which they -seemed to have seen some time or another.</p> - -<p>The starosta and his clerk Avdei stood by his side, bareheaded, with -the same expression of dejection and sorrow.</p> - -<p>"Are all here?" inquired the stranger.</p> - -<p>"Are all here?" repeated the starosta.</p> - -<p>"The whole hundred," replied the citizens,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> when, the starosta informed -them that he had received a letter from the master, and, directed the -clerk to read it aloud to the commune. Avdei stepped forward and read -as follows:</p> - -<p>N.B. This alarming document, which he kept carefully shut up in the -icon-case, together with other memorandum of his authority over the -people of Gorohina, I copied at the house of Tryphon, our starosta.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">"TRYPHON IVANOFF,</p> - -<p>"The bearer of this letter, my agent.... is going to my patrimony, -the village of Gorohina, to assume the management of it. Directly he -arrives assemble the peasants and make known to them their master's -wishes; namely, that they are to obey my agent as they would myself, -and attend to his orders without demur; otherwise he is empowered to -treat them with great severity. I have been forced to take this step -by their shameless disobedience and your, Tryphon Ivanoff, roguish -indulgence.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">"(Signed) NIKOLAI <i>N....</i></p></blockquote> - -<p>Then the agent, with his legs extended like an X and his arms akimbo -like a phitab, addressed to them the following pithy speech: "See that -you are not too troublesome, or I will certainly beat the folly out -of your heads quicker than the fumes of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> yesterday's drink." There -were no longer any fumes left in the head of any man of Gorohina. All -were dumbfounded, hung their noses, and dispersed in fear to their own -houses. The agent seized the reins of government, called for the list -of peasants, divided them into rich and poor, and began to carry into -effect his political system, which deserves particular description. It -was founded upon the following maxims: That the richer a peasant, the -more fractious he grows, and the poorer, the quieter.</p> - -<p>Consequently, like a good Christian, I cared most for the peace of the -estate.</p> - -<p>First, the deficits were distributed among the rich peasants, and were -exacted from them with the greatest severity. Second, the defaulting -or idle hands were forthwith set to plough, and if their labour proved -insufficient according to his standard, he assigned them as workmen -to the other peasants, who paid him for this a voluntary tax. The men -given as bondsmen, on the other hand, possessed the right of redeeming -themselves by paying, besides their deficit, a double annual tithe. All -the communal obligations were thrown upon the rich peasants. But the -recruiting arrangements were the masterpiece of the avaricious ruler, -for by turns all the rich peasants bought themselves off, till at last -the choice fell upon either the blackguard or the ruined one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - -<p>Communal assemblies were abolished. The tithes were collected in small -sums and all the year round. The peasants, it seems, did not pay very -much more than before, but they could not earn or save enough to pay. -In three years Gorohina was quite pauperised. Gorohina quieted down; -the bazaar was empty, the songs of Arhip the Bald were unsung, one -half the men were ploughing in the fields, the other half serving -them as bond labourers. The children went begging, and the day of the -church fête became, according to the historian, not a day of joy and -exultation, but an annual mourning and commemoration of sorrow.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FROM A GOROHINA ANNALIST.</p> - -<p>The accursed steward put Anton Timofeieff into irons, but the old man -Timofei bought his son's freedom for one hundred rubles. The steward -then put the irons on Petrusha Gremeieff, who likewise was ransomed -by his father for sixty-eight rubles. The accursed one then wanted to -handcuff Lech Tarassoff, but he escaped into the woods, to the regret -of the steward, who vented his rage in words; but sent to town in place -of Lech Tarassoff Vanka the drunkard, and gave him for a soldier as a -substitute.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="PETER_THE_GREATS_NEGRO" id="PETER_THE_GREATS_NEGRO">PETER THE GREAT'S NEGRO.</a></h3> - - -<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4> - - -<p>Amongst the young men sent abroad by Peter the Great to acquire the -information necessary for a civilised country was his godson Ibrahim -the negro. He was educated in a Parisian military school, passed out -as a captain of the artillery, distinguished himself in the Spanish -war, and when seriously wounded returned to Paris. In the midst of his -enormous labours the emperor never ceased to ask after his favourite, -of whose progress and good conduct the accounts were always favourable. -Peter was exceedingly pleased with him, and frequently invited him to -Russia; but Ibrahim was in no hurry. He excused himself; either his -wound, or his wish to complete his education, or want of money, served -as the pretext; and Peter complied with his wishes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> begged him to take -care of his health, thanked him for his assiduity in study, and though -exceedingly economical himself was lavish to his <i>protégé,</i> and sent -together with gold pieces fatherly advice and warning.</p> - -<p>Judging by all historical accounts, the flightiness, madness, and -luxury of the French of that period were unequalled. The latter years -of Louis XIV.'s reign, memorable for the strict piety, dignity, -and propriety of the court, have left no traces behind. The Duke -of Orleans, in whom many brilliant qualities united with vice of -every kind, unfortunately did not possess an atom of hypocrisy. The -orgies of the Palais Royal were no secret in Paris; the example was -infectious. At that time Law made his appearance. To the love of money -was united the thirst for pleasure and amusement. Estates dwindled, -morals perished, Frenchmen laughed and discussed, while the kingdom -crumbled to the jovial tunes of satirical vaudevilles. Meanwhile -society presented a most uninteresting picture. Culture and the -craving for amusement united all classes. Riches, amiability, renown, -accomplishments, even eccentricity, whatever nourished curiosity or -promised entertainment, was received with equal pleasure. Literature, -learning, and philosophy left the seclusion of the study to appear in -the great world and minister to fashion, the ruler of opinions. Women -reigned,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> but no longer exacted adoration. Superficial politeness took -the place of profound respect. The escapades of the Duke de Richelieu, -the Alcibiades of modern Athens, belong to history and display the -morals of that period:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Temps Fortune, marqué par la licence,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ou la folie, agitant son grelot,</span><br /> -D'un pied leger parcourt toute la France,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ou nul mortel ne daigne être dévot,</span><br /> -Ou l'on fait tout excepté pénitence."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Ibrahim's arrival, his appearance, culture, and native wit, attracted -general attention in Paris. All the ladies fought for a visit from -the Tsar's negro. More than once was he invited to the Regent's merry -evenings; he was present at the suppers enlivened by the youth of -Voltaire and the age of Shollier, the conversations of Montesquieu -and Fontenelle. Not a ball, not a fête, not one first representation -did he miss; and he gave himself up to the general whirl with all the -passion of his youth and nature. But the idea of exchanging these -entertainments, these brilliant pleasures for the simplicity of the St. -Petersburg Court was not all that Ibrahim dreaded. Other and stronger -ties bound him to Paris. The young African was in love. No longer in -the first bloom of youth, the Countess L. was still celebrated for -her beauty. At seventeen, on leaving the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> convent, she was married to -a man for whom she had not learnt to feel the love which ultimately -he showed no care to win. Rumour assigned her lovers, but through -the leniency of society she still enjoyed a good repute; for nothing -ridiculous or scandalous could be brought against her. Her house was -the most fashionable, a centre of the best society in Paris. Ibrahim -was introduced by young G. de Merville, who was regarded generally -as her latest lover; an impression which he tried by every means to -strengthen. The Countess received Ibrahim with civility, but without -particular attention. He was flattered. Usually the young negro was -regarded with wonder, surrounded and overwhelmed with attention -and questions; and this curiosity, though veiled by a display of -friendliness, offended his vanity.</p> - -<p>The delightful attention of women, almost the sole aim of our -exertions, not only gave him no pleas are, but even ailed him with -bitterness and wrath. He felt that he was for them a species of rare -animal, a strange peculiar creature, accidentally brought into a -world with which he had naught in common. He even envied those whom -no one noticed, and deemed their insignificance a blessing. The idea -that nature had not formed him for tender passion robbed him of all -self-assertion and conceit, and added a rare charm to his manner -towards women. His conversation was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> simple and dignified. He pleased -the Countess L., who was tired of the formal pleasantries and pointed -innuendoes of French, wit.</p> - -<p>Ibrahim visited her often. Little by little she grew used to the young -negro's looks, and even began to find something agreeable in that early -head, so black amid the powdered wigs that thronged her drawing-room -(Ibrahim had been wounded in the head and wore a bandage in the place -of a wig). He was twenty-seven, tall and well built, and more than one -beauty glanced at him with feelings more flattering to him than mere -curiosity. But Ibraham either did not observe them or thought their -notice merely coquetry. But when his gaze met that of the Countess his -mistrust vanished. Her eyes expressed so much kindness, her manner to -him was so simple, so easy, that it was impossible to suspect her of -the least coquetry or insincerity.</p> - -<p>Though no thought of love entered his mind, to see the Countess daily -had become a necessity. He tried to meet her everywhere, and every -meeting seemed a godsend. The Countess guessed his feelings before he -did so himself. There is no doubt that a love which hopes nothing and -asks nothing touches the female heart more surely than all the arts of -the experienced. When Ibrahim was near, the Countess followed all his -movements,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> listened to all his words. Without him she became pensive, -and fell into her usual abstraction. Merville was first to notice their -mutual attraction, and congratulated Ibrahim. Nothing inflames love -like approving comments of outsiders. Love is blind, and putting no -trust in itself clings eagerly to every support.</p> - -<p>Merville's words roused Ibrahim. Hope suddenly dawned upon his soul; -he fell madly in love. In vain the Countess, alarmed by the vehemence -of his passion, wished to meet him with friendly warnings and sage -counsels; but she herself was growing weak.</p> - -<p>Nothing escapes the eye of the vigilant world. The Countess's new -attachment soon became known. Some ladies wondered at her choice; -many found him very ordinary. Some laughed; others considered her -inexcusably imprudent. In the first intoxication of their passion -Ibrahim and the Countess noticed nothing, but soon the jokes of the -men, the sarcasms of the women, began to reach them. Ibrahim's formal -and cold manner had hitherto guarded him from such attacks; he bore -them with impatience, and knew not how to retaliate. The Countess, -accustomed to the respect of society, could not calmly endure to see -herself an object of ridicule and scandal. She complained to Ibrahim -either with tears or bitter reproaches; then she begged him not to -take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> her part, nor ruin her completely by useless disturbance.</p> - -<p>Fresh circumstances complicated her position still more: results of her -imprudent love began to show themselves. The Countess in distress told -Ibrahim. Consolation, advice, suggestions were in turn exhausted and -rejected. She foresaw her inevitable ruin, and in despair awaited it. -Immediately the Countesses condition became known, reports circulated -with renewed vigour. Sensitive women exclaimed in horror; the men made -bets whether she would bear a white or a black child. Epigrams poured -in about her husband, who alone in all Paris suspected nothing. The -fatal moment approached, the Countess was in a terrible state. Ibrahim -called every day. He saw her strength of mind and body gradually -failing. Her tears and terror increased momentarily. At last she felt -the first throes. Measures were taken hurriedly. Means were found to -get the Count out of the way. The doctor arrived. Two days previous -to this a poor woman had been persuaded to resign into the hands of -strangers her new-born infant, for which a messenger was sent.</p> - -<p>Ibrahim remained in the study next the bedroom where the unhappy -Countess lay, scarcely daring to breathe; he heard muffled groans, the -maidservants whispers, and the doctor's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> directions. She suffered long. -Each groan lacerated Ibrahim's heart, and every silent pause filled -him with dread; suddenly he heard the weak cry of a child, and unable -to control his delight rushed into the Countess's room. A black infant -lay on the bed at her feet. Ibrahim approached it. His heart throbbed -violently. He blessed his son with a trembling hand. The Countess with -a faint smile stretched towards him a feeble hand, but the doctor, -fearing too much excitement for his patient, dragged Ibrahim away from -her bedside. The new-born babe was laid in a covered basket and carried -out by a secret staircase. The other child was brought in, and its -cradle placed in the bedroom. Ibrahim left feeling a trifle calmer. The -Count was expected. He returned late, heard of the happy confinement -of his wife, and was much pleased. Thus the public, which expected -a great scandal, was disappointed, and forced to be satisfied with -backbiting. Everything fell back into its usual routine. But Ibrahim -felt that his life must undergo a change, and that his intimacy must -sooner or later become known to Count L. In which case, whatever might -ensue, the Countess's ruin was inevitable. Ibrahim loved and was loved -with passion; but the Countess was wilful and flighty; and this was -not her first love. Disgust and hatred might in her heart replace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> -the tenderest feelings. Ibrahim already foresaw the time of her -indifference. Hitherto he had not known jealousy, but now with horror -he anticipated, it. Convinced that the anguish of a separation would be -less painful, he resolved to break off this luckless connection, quit -Paris, and return to Russia, whither Peter and a dull sense of duty had -long been calling him.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> - - -<p>Days and months passed, and love-sick Ibrahim could not resolve to -leave the woman he had wronged. The Countess from hour to hour grew -more attached to him. Their son was being brought up in a distant -province; social scandal was subsiding, and the lovers began to enjoy -greater tranquillity, in silence remembering the past storm and trying -not to think of the future.</p> - -<p>One day Ibrahim was standing at the Duke of Orleans' door. The Duke -passing him, stopped, handed him a letter, and bade him read it at his -leisure. It was a letter from Peter I. The Tsar, guessing the real -cause of his absence, wrote to the Hake that he in no way desired to -compel Ibrahim, and left it to his free will to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> return to Russia or -not; but that in any case he should never forsake his foster-child. -This letter touched Ibrahim to the heart. From that moment his decision -was made. Next day he announced to the Regent his intention to start -immediately for Russia.</p> - -<p>"Consider the step you are about to take," replied the Duke. "Russia is -not your home. I don't think you will ever have a chance of seeing your -torrid Africa, and your long residence in France has made you equally -a stranger to the climate and the semi-barbarous life of Russia. You -were not born one of Peter's subjects. Take my advice, profit by his -generous permission, stay in France, for which you have already shed -your blood, and be convinced that here your services and talents will -not be left without their due reward."</p> - -<p>Ibrahim thanked the Duke sincerely, but remained firm in his resolve.</p> - -<p>"I regret it," replied the Regent; "but on the whole you may be right."</p> - -<p>He promised to let him retire and wrote to inform the Tsar.</p> - -<p>Ibrahim was soon ready for the journey. On the eve of his departure -he passed the evening as usual at the Countess L's. She knew nothing. -Ibrahim had not the courage to tell her. The Countess was calm and -cheerful. She several<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> times called him to her and joked about -his pensiveness. After supper everybody had gone, leaving in the -drawing-room only the Countess, her husband, and Ibrahim. The unhappy -man would have given the world to be left alone with her; but Count L. -seemed to be settled so comfortably near the grate that it appeared -hopeless to wait to see him out of the room. All three remained silent.</p> - -<p><i>"Bonne nuit!</i>" at last said the Countess.</p> - -<p>Ibrahim's heart sank and he suddenly experienced all the horrors of -parting. He stood motionless.</p> - -<p>"<i>Bonne nuit, messieurs,</i>" repeated the Countess.</p> - -<p>Still he did not move. At last his eyes became dim, his head went -round, and he could scarcely get out of the room.</p> - -<p>Arriving at home, almost mad, he wrote as follows:</p> - -<p>"I am going, dearest Leonora, to leave you for ever. I write because I -have not the strength to tell you otherwise. Our happiness could not -continue; I have enjoyed it against the will of destiny and nature. -You must in time have ceased to love me. The enchantment must have -vanished. This idea has always haunted me, even when I seemed to -forget all, when at your feet I was intoxicated by your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> passionate -self-abnegation, by your boundless tenderness. The thoughtless world -mercilessly persecute that which in theory it permits. Sooner or later -its cold irony would have vanquished you, and cowed your passionate -soul, till finally you would have been ashamed of your love.</p> - -<p>"What, then, would have become of me?</p> - -<p>"Better to die; better to leave you before that terrible moment. Your -happiness to me is more precious than all; you could not enjoy it, -while the gaze of society was fixed upon us. Remember all you have -endured, your wounded pride, the torture of fear; the terrible birth -of our son. Think; ought I any longer to subject you to such fears and -dangers? Why should I endeavour to unite the fate of so tender, so -beautiful a creature with the miserable life of a negro, a pitiable -object scarce worthy of the name of man?</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, Leonora; dear and only friend. In leaving you, I leave -the first and last joy of my heart. I have no fatherland nor kin. I go -to Russia, where my utter solitude will be my joy. Serious pursuits -to which from henceforth I devote myself, if they do not silence must -at any rate distract painful recollections of the days of rapture. -Farewell, Leonora! I tear myself away from this letter, as if from your -embrace. Farewell, be happy, and think sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> of the poor negro, of -your faithful Ibrahim."</p> - -<p>The same night he started for Russia. The journey did not seem as -terrible as he had expected. His imagination triumphed over fact. The -further he got from Paris the nearer and more vivid seemed to him all -the objects he was leaving for ever.</p> - -<p>Imperceptibly he reached the Russian frontier. Autumn had already set -in, but the hired relays, notwithstanding the badness of the roads, -brought him with the swiftness of the wind, and on the seventeenth -morning he arrived at Krasnoe Selo, through which at that time passed -the high road.</p> - -<p>There remained twenty-eight versts' journey to St. Petersburg. While -the horses were being changed Ibrahim entered the posting-house. In a -corner a tall man, in a green caftan and a clay pipe in his mouth, sat -leaning against the table reading the <i>Hamburg Gazette</i>. Hearing some -one enter he raised his head.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Ibrahim!" he exclaimed, rising from the bench. "How do you do, -godson?"</p> - -<p>Ibrahim recognised Peter, and in his delight rushed at him, but stopped -respectfully. The monarch approached, put his arms round him, and -kissed him on the forehead.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I was told of your coming," said Peter, "and drove off to meet you. I -Pave been waiting for you here since yesterday."</p> - -<p>Ibrahim could not find words to express his gratitude.</p> - -<p>"Tell them," added the Tsar, "to let your carriage follow us, while you -get in by my side and drive to my place."</p> - -<p>The Tsar's calèche was announced; he and Ibrahim got in and started at -a gallop. In an hour and a half they reached St. Petersburg. Ibrahim -looked with interest at the new-born city, which had sprung up by the -will of the Tsar. The bare banks, the canals without quays, the wooden -bridges, everywhere bore witness to the recent triumph of human will -over the elements. The houses seemed to have been hurriedly built. -The whole town contained nothing magnificent but the Neva, not yet -decorated with its granite framework, but already covered with ships -of war and merchantmen. The Tsar's calèche drew up at the palace, -<i>i.e.</i> at the Tsaritsa's garden. On the door-steps Peter was met by a -woman about thirty-five, handsome, and dressed in the latest Parisian -fashion. Peter kissed her, and, taking Ibrahim by the hand, said:</p> - -<p>"Katinka, do you recognise my godson? I beg you to love and welcome him -as before."</p> - -<p>Catherine turned on him her black searching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> eyes, and graciously held -out her hand. Two young beauties, tall and shapely, and fresh as roses, -stood behind her and respectfully approached Peter.</p> - -<p>"Lisa," he said to one, "do you remember the little negro who stole -apples from me at Oranienburgh to give to you? Here he is, I introduce -him to you."</p> - -<p>The grand duchess laughed and blushed. They went into the dining-room. -In expectation of the Tsar the table had been laid. Peter, having -invited Ibrahim, sat down with all his family to dinner. During dinner -the Tsar talked to him on different topics, inquiring about the Spanish -war, the internal affairs of Prance and the Regent, whom he liked, -though he found in his conduct much to blame. Ibrahim displayed an -accurate and observant mind. Peter was much pleased with his answers; -remembering some incidents of Ibrahim's childhood, he related them with -such good-humoured merriment that no one could have suspected this kind -and hospitable host to be the hero of Poltava, the mighty and terrible -reformer of Russia.</p> - -<p>After dinner the Tsar, according to the Russian custom, retired to -rest. Ibrahim remained with the empress and the grand duchesses. He -tried to satisfy their curiosity, described Parisian life, their fêtes -and capricious fashions. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> mean-while, some of the emperor's -suite assembled in the palace. Ibrahim recognised the magnificent -Prince Menshikoff, who, seeing the negro conversing with Catherine, -cast him a scornful glance; Prince Jacob Dolgoruki, Peter's stern -counsellor; the learned Bruce, known among the people as the Russian -Paustus; young Bagusinski, his former companion, and others who had -come to the Tsar to bring reports and receive instructions. In a couple -of hours the Tsar came out.</p> - -<p>"Let us see," he said to Ibrahim, "if you remember your old duties. -Get a slate and follow me." Peter locked himself in the carpenter's -room and was engaged with state affairs. He worked alternately with -Bruce, Prince Dolgoruki, General Police-master Devière, and dictated -to Ibrahim several ukases and decisions. Ibrahim was struck by the -rapidity and firmness of his decision, the strength and the pliability -of his intellect, and the variety of his occupations. When his work -was ended Peter took out a pocket book to compare the notes and see if -he had got through all he had meant to do that day. Then quitting the -carpenter's workroom he said to Ibrahim:</p> - -<p>"It is late; I dare say you are tired, sleep the night here, as in the -old time; to-morrow I will wake you."</p> - -<p>Ibrahim, left alone, could hardly realise that he was again at St. -Petersburg, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> presence of the great man; near whom, not yet -aware of his great worth, he had spent his childhood. It was almost -with regret that he confessed to himself that the Countess L. for the -first time since they parted had not been his sole thought throughout -the day. He saw that in the new mode of life awaiting him, work and -continual activity might revive his soul, exhausted by passion, -indolence, and secret sorrow. The idea of being the great man's -assistant, and with him influencing the fate of a mighty people, awoke -in him for the first time the noble feeling of ambition. In this humour -he lay down upon the camp bed prepared for him,—and then the usual -dreams carried him back to distant Paris, to the arms of his dear -countess.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER III.</h4> - - -<p>Next morning, according to his promise, Peter woke Ibrahim and greeted -him as lieutenant-captain of the Preobrajensky regiment, in which he -himself was captain. The courtiers flocked round Ibrahim, each one in -his own way trying to welcome the new favourite.</p> - -<p>The haughty Prince Menshikoff gave him a friendly grasp of the hand. -Sheremetieff inquired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> after his own Parisian friend, and Golovin asked -him to dinner. Others followed his example, so that Ibrahim received -invitations for at least a whole month.</p> - -<p>His life was now passed in regular but active occupation; consequently -he was not dull. Prom day to day he became more attached to the Tsar, -and grew better able to appreciate his lofty character. The thoughts -of a great man are a most interesting study. Ibrahim saw Peter in the -Senate debating with Buturlin and Dolgoruki, discussing important -questions in the Admiralty, fostering the Russian navy,—in his -leisure, with Theophan, Gavril, Bujinski, and Kopievitch, examining -translations from foreign publications, or visiting a factory, an -artizan's workshop, or the study of some learned man. Russia became -to Ibrahim one vast workshop, where machinery alone moved, where each -workman under ordered rules is occupied with his own task.</p> - -<p>He felt that he too must work at his own bench, and tried to regret -as little as possible the amusements of his Parisian life. But if -was hander to forget a dearer memory. Often he thought of Countess -L., her just indignation, her tears, and grief. At times a terrible -thought oppressed him: the distractions of society: new ties: another -favourite. He shuddered; jealousy began to rage in his African blood, -and burning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> tears were ready to flow down his swarthy face.</p> - -<p>One morning he was sitting in his study amid official documents, when -he heard himself loudly greeted in French. Turning quickly round he was -embraced with joyous exclamations by young Korsakoff, whom he had left -in Paris in the whirl of the great world.</p> - -<p>"I have only just arrived," said Korsakoff "and came straight to you. -All our Parisian friends desire to be remembered to you, and regret -your absence. The Countess L. requested me to invite you without fail, -and here is her letter for you."</p> - -<p>Ibrahim seized it eagerly, and was looking at the familiar writing on -the envelope, scarcely believing his own eyes.</p> - -<p>"How glad I am," added Korsakoff, "that you have not been bored to -death in this barbarous Petersburg. How do they manage here? What do -they do? Who is your tailor? Have they started an opera?"</p> - -<p>Ibrahim absently replied that the Tsar was probably at that moment at -work in the shipping dock.</p> - -<p>Korsakoff laughed.</p> - -<p>"I see," he said, "you are preoccupied, and don't want me just now. -Another time we will have a good talk; I am off to present my respects<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> -to his Majesty." With these words he turned on his heel, and hurried -out of the room.</p> - -<p>Left alone Ibrahim quickly opened the letter. The countess complained -tenderly, reproached him with falseness and inconstancy.</p> - -<p>"You used to say," she wrote, "that my happiness was more to you than -all the world. Ibrahim, if this were true, could you have left me in -the state to which the sudden news of your departure brought me. You -were afraid I might detain you. Be assured that, in spite of my love, -I should have known how to sacrifice it for your good and to what you -deem your duty."</p> - -<p>The countess ended with passionate assurances of love, begging him to -write, if only occasionally, and even if there were no hope that they -would ever meet again.</p> - -<p>Ibrahim read and re-read this letter twenty times, rapturously kissing -those precious lines. Burning with impatience for news about the -countess, he set out for the Admiralty, hoping to find his friend still -there, when the door opened, and Korsakoff re-entered. He had seen the -Tsar, and he seemed as usual perfectly self-satisfied.</p> - -<p>"Between ourselves," he said to Ibrahim, "the Tsar is a most -extraordinary man. Fancy! I found him in a sort of linen vest on the -mast of a new ship, whither I had to scramble with my dispatches.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> I -stood on a rope ladder, and had not room enough to make a proper bow. -I lost my presence of mind for the first time in all my life. However, -the Tsar, when he had read my papers, looked at me from head to foot. -Ho doubt he was agreeably impressed by my good taste and splendid -attire. At any rate he smiled, and invited me to the assembly today. -But I am a perfect stranger in Petersburg. For my six years' absence I -have quite forgotten the local customs. Please be my mentor; call for -me on your way, and introduce me."</p> - -<p>Ibrahim promised, and hastened to turn the conversation on the subject -that most interested him.</p> - -<p>"How was the Countess L.?"</p> - -<p>"The countess? At first she was naturally most unhappy at your -departure; then, of course by degrees, she grew reconciled, and took -to herself another lover—who do you think? The lanky Marquis R. Why -do you open those African eyes of yours? Does this appear to you so -strange? Don't you know that enduring grief is not in human nature, -particularly in a woman. Meditate duly upon that while I go and rest -after my journey, and don't forget to call for me on your way."</p> - -<p>What terrible thoughts crowded Ibrahim's soul? Jealousy? Rage? -Despair?—Ho!—but a deep, crushing sorrow.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p>He murmured to himself. I foresaw it, it was bound to happen. Then he -opened the countess's letter, read it over again, hung his head, and -wept bitterly. Long did he weep. Those tears relieved him. He looked -at his watch and found that it was time to start. Gladly would he have -stayed away, but the party was an affair of duty, and the Tsar was -strict in exacting the attendance of those attached to him.</p> - -<p>He dressed and started to fetch Korsakoff. Korsakoff was sitting in his -dressing gown, reading a French book.</p> - -<p>"So early?" he exclaimed, seeing Ibrahim.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me," the other replied, "it's already half-past five, we shall -be late; make haste and dress, and let us go."</p> - -<p>Korsakoff hurriedly rang the bell with all his might; the servants -hurried in, and he began hastily to dress. His French valet handed him -slippers with red heels, light blue velvet breeches, a pink kaftan -embroidered with spangles. In the antechamber his wig was hurriedly -powdered and brought in; Korsakoff pushed into it his closely cropped -head, asked for his sword and gloves, turned ten times before the -glass, and announced to Ibrahim that he was ready. The footmen handed -them their bearskin overcoats, and they drove off to the Winter Palace.</p> - -<p>Korsakoff smothered Ibrahim with questions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> - -<p>Who was the belle of St. Petersburg. Which man was considered the -best dancer? and which dance was the most fashionable? Ibrahim very -reluctantly gratified his curiosity. Meanwhile they reached the -palace. A number of long sledges, old carriages, and gilded coaches -stood on the lawn. Near the steps were crowded coachmen in livery and -moustaches, outriders glittering with tinsel, with feathers and maces, -hussars, pages and awkward footmen carrying their masters' furcoats -and muffs, a following indispensable according to the notions of the -gentry of that period. At sight of Ibrahim a general murmur ran. "The -negro, the negro, the Tzar's negro!" He hurriedly led Korsakoff through -this motley crowd. The Court footman opened wide the doors; and they -entered a large room. Korsakoff was dumb with astonishment. In this big -hall, lighted up with tallow candles dimly burning amidst clouds of -tobacco smoke, sat magnates with blue ribbons across their shoulders, -ambassadors, foreign merchants, officers of the guards in their green -uniform, shipbuilders in jackets and striped trousers, all moving to -and fro in crowds to the unceasing sound of sacred music. The ladies -sat near to the walls;—the young attired in all the splendour of -fashion. Gold and silver shone upon their gowns; from the midst of wide -crinolines their slender figures rose like flower stalks. Diamonds -glittered in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> ears, in their long curls, and round their neck. -They turned gaily to the right and left awaiting the gentlemen and the -dancing.</p> - -<p>Elderly ladies tried cunningly to combine the new style of dress with -the vanished past; caps were modelled on the small sable hat of the -Tsaritsa Natalia Kirilovna, and gowns and mantles somehow recalled the -sarafan and dushegreika (short jacket without sleeves). They seemed -to share rather with wonder than enjoyment in these new imported -amusements, and glanced angrily at the wives and daughters of the Dutch -skippers, who in cotton skirts and red jackets knitted their stockings -and sat laughing and talking quite at ease amongst themselves. Seeing -the fresh arrivals, a servant approached with beer and tumblers on a -tray. Korsakoff in bewilderment whispered to Ibrahim.</p> - -<p>"Que diable est ce que tout cela?" Ibrahim could not repress a smile. -The empress and the grand duchess, radiant in their own beauty and -their attire, walked through the rows of guests, talking affably to -them. The emperor was in another room, Korsakoff, wishing to show -himself to him, with difficulty pushed his way through the ever-moving -crowd. Sitting in that room were mostly foreigners solemnly smoking -their clay pipes and drinking from their earthen jugs. On the tables -were bottles of beer and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> wine, leather pouches with tobacco, tumblers -of punch, and a few draught-boards. At one of these was Peter playing -draughts with a broad-shouldered English skipper. They solemnly saluted -one another with gulps of tobacco smoke, and the Tsar was so engrossed -by an unexpected move of his opponent that he did not notice Korsakoff, -in spite of the latter's contortions. At that moment a stout gentleman -with a large bouquet on his breast rushed in, announced in a loud voice -that dancing had begun, and instantly retired. He was followed by a -large number of the guests, including Korsakoff among the rest.</p> - -<p>The unexpected sight surprised him. Along the whole length of the -hall, to the sound of the most doleful music, the ladies and gentlemen -stood in two rows face to face. The gentlemen bowed low; the ladies -curtsied lower still, first to their <i>vis-à-vis</i>, then to the right, -then to the left; again to their <i>vis-à-vis</i>, then to the right, and -so on. Korsakoff, gazing at this fantastic pastime, opened his eyes -and bit his lips. The curtsying and bowing went on for about half an -hour. At last they ended, and the stout gentleman with the bouquet -announced that the dances of ceremony were ended, and ordered the band -to play a minuet. Korsakoff was delighted, and made ready to show -off. Among the young ladies was one whom he particularly admired. She -was about sixteen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> dressed richly but with taste, and sat next an -elderly gentleman of dignified and stern appearance. Korsakoff rushed -up to her and begged the honour of a dance. The young beauty was -disconcerted, and seemed to be at a loss what to say. The man sitting -next her frowned more than before. Korsakoff awaited her reply, when -the gentleman with the bouquet approached, led him to the middle of the -hall, and said pompously:</p> - -<p>"Dear sip, you have done wrong. In the first place, you approached this -young person without first rendering her the three requisite salutes, -and secondly, you took upon yourself the right of choosing her, whereas -in the minuet that privilege is hers and not the gentleman's. For this -you must undergo severe punishment, that is you must drain the goblet -of the Great Eagle."</p> - -<p>Korsakoff from hour to hour grew more astonished. In a moment the -guests surrounded him, loudly demanding instant compliance with the -law. Peter, hearing the laughter and loud talk, came from the next -room, being very fond of witnessing such punishments. The crowd divided -before him and he stepped into the centre, where stood the accused with -the master of the ceremonies before him holding an enormous cup full -of malmsey wine. He was earnestly persuading the culprit to submit -willingly to the law.</p> - -<p>"Aha!" said Peter, seeing Korsakoff, "you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> are caught, brother. Drink, -monsieur, and no wry faces."</p> - -<p>There was nothing for it. The poor dandy, without stopping, drained the -goblet and returned it to the master of the ceremonies.</p> - -<p>"Hark, Korsakoff," said Peter, "your breeches are of velvet, the like -even I don't wear, who am much richer than you. That is extravagance, -take care I do not quarrel with you."</p> - -<p>After this rebuke Korsakoff wished to leave the circle, but staggered -and nearly fell, to the great delight of the emperor and the merry -company. This incident not only did not mar the harmony nor interest of -the principal entertainment, but on the contrary enlivened it.</p> - -<p>The gentlemen began to scrape and bow, and the ladies to curtsy and -knock their little heels together with great diligence, no longer -keeping time to the music. Korsakoff could not share in the general -merriment. By her father Gavril Afanassievitch Rjevski's orders, the -lady whom Korsakoff had chosen approached Ibrahim, and, dropping her -eyes, timidly held out her hand to him. Ibrahim danced the minuet with -her and led her back to her seat, then went in search of Korsakoff, -led him out of the hall, placed him in the carriage, and drove him -home. At the beginning of the journey Korsakoff mumbled, "Curses upon -the soiree and the goblet of the Great Eagle," but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> he soon fell into -a deep sleep. He knew not how he got home, undressed, and was put to -bed, and he awoke next day with a headache, and a dim remembrance of -the scraping, curtseying, and tobacco smoke, the gentleman with the -enormous bouquet, and the mighty goblet of the Great Eagle.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4> - - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -<i>(Verse from "Ruslan and Ludmila.")</i><br /> -<br /> -"Our forefathers were leisurely souls,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Right leisurely did they dine,</span><br /> -And they ladled slow from their silver bowls<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The foaming beer and wine."</span><br /> -</p> - - -<p>I must introduce you, gracious reader, to Gavril Afanassievitch -Rjevski. He came of an ancient noble race, owned vast estates, was -hospitable, loved falconry, had an enormous retinue, and was, in a -word, a good old Russian gentleman. In his own words he could not bear -anything foreign, and in his home he tried to maintain the customs of -the good old days he loved so well. His daughter was seventeen. In -childhood she had lost her mother, and she had been brought up in the -old-fashioned way, amid a crowd of governesses, nurses, companions, and -children from the servants' hall. She could embroider in gold and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> -illiterate. Her father, in spite of his dislike to all things foreign, -could not oppose her wish to learn German dances from a captive Swedish -officer living in their house. This worthy dancing master was about -fifty; his right foot had been shot through at the battle of Narva, -and therefore it was not very active at minuets and courantes; but -the left was very dexterous and agile in the more difficult steps. -His young pupil did credit to his teaching. Natalia Gavrilovna was -celebrated at these soirees for her dancing, which was partly the cause -of Korsakoff's proceedings. He came next morning to apologise to Gavril -Afanassievitch. But the young dandy's manner and fine dress displeased -the proud <i>barin</i> who nicknamed him the French monkey.</p> - -<p>It was a holiday. Gavril Afanassievitch expected a number of friends -and relations. In the ancient hall a long table was being laid. The -guests were arriving with their wives and daughters, who had at last -been released from their domestic prison by the order and by the -example of the Tsar. Natalia Gavrilovna handed round a silver tray -laden with golden cups, and each guest, as he drained one, regretted -that the kiss which accompanied it on such occasions in olden times was -out of fashion.</p> - -<p>They sat down to table. In the place of honour next the host sat his -father-in-law, Prince<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> Boris Alexeievitch Lykoff, a boyar in his -seventieth year. The other guests were placed in order of descent, and -thus recalling the happy times of precedence by office, sat down, men -on one side, women on the other. At the end of the table, the companion -in the old-fashioned dress, a dwarf,—a thirty-year-old infant, -affected and wrinkled,—and the captive dancing master in a shabby dark -blue uniform, took their accustomed seats. The table, covered with a -great number of dishes, was surrounded by numerous and busy servants, -distinguishable among whom was the butler, with severe mien, big -stomach, and pompous immobility. The first few moments of dinner were -devoted entirely to the dishes of our time-honoured Russian cookery. -The rattle of plates and the activity of spoons produced a general -taciturnity.</p> - -<p>At last the host, perceiving that the time had come for entertaining -the guests with agreeable conversation, turned and asked:</p> - -<p>"Where, then, is Ekimovna? Let her be summoned!"</p> - -<p>Several attendants were about to rush off in different directions, -when an old woman, painted white and pink, decorated with flowers and -tinsel, in a silk damask gown with a low neck, entered, singing and -dancing. Her advent occasioned general delight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Good-day to you, Ekimovna?" said Prince Lykoff. "How are you getting -on?"</p> - -<p>"Well and healthily, gossip; all night dancing, my suitors awaiting."</p> - -<p>"Where have you been, fool?" asked the host.</p> - -<p>"Dressing, gossip, to receive the dear guests, on the Lord's festival, -by order of the Tsar, by command of the master, to the derision of the -world in the German style."</p> - -<p>At these words there was a loud burst of laughter, and the jester took -her place behind the host's chair.</p> - -<p>"And folly talks foolishly, and sometimes tells the truth in her -folly," said Tatiana Afanassievna, eldest sister of the host, and much -respected by him. "Naturally the present style of dress must seem -ridiculous to everybody. When you, my friends, have shaved your beards -and put on a short coat, it is of course no use talking of women's -rags; but really it is a pity the sarafan, the maiden's ribbons, and -the povoinik [a head-dress] should be discarded. It is really sad and -comic to see the beauties of to-day, their hair frizzed like flax, -greased and covered with French powder, the waist laced in so tight -that it seems on the point of snapping—their bodies encased in hoops, -so that they have to go sideways through a carriage door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> They stoop; -they can neither stand, sit, nor breathe—real martyrs, my poor dears."</p> - -<p>"Dear mother Tatiana Afanassievna!" said Kirila Petrovitch, formerly a -<i>voievod</i> at Riasan, where he acquired 3,000 serfs and a young wife, -neither by strictly honourable means. "But my wife may dress as she -likes as long as she does not order new gowns every month and throw -away the previous ones, while still quite perfectly new. Formerly the -granddaughter included in her dowry the grandmother's sarafan; but -now you see the mistress in a gown to-day and to-morrow it is on the -maid. What is to be done? Nothing but ruin confronts the Russian noble. -Very sad!" he said, with a sigh, looking at his Maria Ilienitchna, who -seemed to like neither his praise of olden times nor his disparagement -of the latest fashions. The rest of the ladies shared her displeasure, -but they said nothing, for modesty was in those days still deemed -essential in young women.</p> - -<p>"And who is to blame?" asked Gravril Afanassievitch, frothing a mug of -<i>kissli shtchi</i> (sort of lemonade). "Is it not our own fault? The young -women play the fool and we encourage them."</p> - -<p>"What can we do? We cannot help ourselves," replied Kirila Petrovitch. -"A man would gladly shut his wife up in the house, but she is summoned -with beating of drums to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> attend the assemblies. The husband follows -the whip, but the wife runs after dress. Oh, those assemblies! The Lord -has sent them upon us to punish us for our sins."</p> - -<p>Maria Ilienitchna sat on needles; her tongue itched. At last she could -bear it no longer, and turning to her husband inquired with a little -acid smile what he found to object to in the assemblies.</p> - -<p>"This is what I find to object to," replied the irritated husband. -Since they began, husbands cannot manage their wives; wives have -forgotten the teaching of the apostles—that a wife shall reverence her -husband. They trouble themselves not about their domestic affairs, but -about new apparel. They consider not how to please the husband, but -how to attract the officers. And is it becoming, madam, for a Russian -lady—wife or maid—to hobnob with German tobacconists and with their -workmen? Who ever heard of dancing till night and talking with young -men? If they were relatives, all well and good—but with strangers and -with men they do not know."</p> - -<p>"I would say a word, but there is a wolf near," said Gavril -Afanassievitch, with a frown. "I confess these assemblies are not to my -taste; at any moment you may jostle against a drunken man, or perhaps -be made drunk yourself to amuse others. Then there is the danger -that some blackguard may be up to mischief with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> your daughter; the -modern young men are so spoilt, it is disgraceful. Take for instance -the son of the late Evgraff Sergueievitch Korsakoff; who at the last -assembly made such a fuss about Natasha, that he brought the blood into -my cheeks. Next day he coolly drives up to my gate. I was wondering -whether it could be Prince Alexander Danilovitch. No such luck. Ivan -Evgrafovitch! He would not stop at the gate and take the trouble to -walk up to the door, it is not likely! Korsakoff rushed in, bowing -and scraping, and chattered at such a rate, the Lord preserve us! The -fool Ekimovna mimics him most comically; by-the-bye, fool, give us the -foreign monkey."</p> - -<p>Foolish Ekimovna seized the cover off a dish, tucked it under her arm -like a hat, and began wriggling, scraping with her feet, and bowing -in all directions, saying <i>monsieur</i>, <i>mademoiselle</i>, <i>assemblée</i>, -<i>pardon</i>. General and prolonged laughter again showed the delight of -the guests.</p> - -<p>"Exactly like Korsakoff," said old Prince Lykoff, wiping away his tears -of laughter when the noise had gradually subsided. "It must be owned, -however, he is not the first nor the last who has come from foreign -parts to holy Russia a buffoon. What do our children learn abroad? To -scrape their feet, to chatter the Lord knows what lingo, not to respect -their elders, and to dangle after other men's wives. Of all the young -people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> who have been educated abroad (the Lord forgive me) the Tzar's -negro most resembles a man."</p> - -<p>"Oh, prince!" said Tatiana Afanassievna. I have—I have seen him close. -What a frightful muzzle he has. I was quite frightened of him."</p> - -<p>"Certainly," added Gavril Afanassievitch. "He is a steady, decent man, -not a brother of the whirlwind. Who is it that has just driven through -the gate into the courtyard? Surely it is never that foreign monkey -again? What are you animals doing?" he exclaimed, turning towards the -servants. "Run and keep him out, and never let him in again."</p> - -<p>"Old beard, are you dreaming?" foolish Ekimovna interrupted. "Are you -blind? It is the royal sledge. The Tsar has come."</p> - -<p>Gavril Afanassievitch rose hurriedly from the table. Everybody rushed -to the windows; and positively saw the emperor ascending the steps -leaning on the arm of his orderly. There was a great commotion. The -host rushed to meet Peter; the servants flew hither and thither as if -mad; the guests were alarmed, and some wondered how they might escape. -Suddenly the thunder voice of Peter resounded in the hall. All was -silence as the Tsar entered, accompanied by his host, in a flutter of -joy.</p> - -<p>"How do you do, ladies and gentlemen?" said Peter gaily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<p>All made obeisance. The Tsar's sharp eyes sought in this crowd -the host's young daughter. He beckoned to her. Natalia Gavrilovna -approached rather boldly, but blushed not only to her ears but to her -shoulders.</p> - -<p>"You grow prettier every hour," said the Tsar, and according to his -custom kissed her on the head. Then turning to the guests he exclaimed:</p> - -<p>"Why, I have interrupted you! You were dining? I beg you will sit down -again, and to me, Gavril Afanassievitch, give some aniseed vodka."</p> - -<p>The host rushed at the stately butler, snatched from him a tray, -and himself filling a small golden goblet, handed it to the Tsar. -Peter drank it, ate a piece of bread, and again invited the guests -to continue their dinner. All resumed their seats but the dwarf and -the companion, who did not dare to remain at the table honoured by -the presence of the monarch. Peter sat down beside the host and asked -for some shtchee (a cabbage soup). The Tsar's orderly handed him a -wooden spoon inlaid with ivory, a knife and fork with green bone -handles—Peter never used any others but his own. The dinner table -conversation, which a moment before had been boisterously merry, -ended by being forced and scanty. The host from respect and delight -ate nothing; the guests, too, became ceremonious and listened with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> -reverence to the Tsar as he discussed in German the campaign of 1701 -with the captive Swede.</p> - -<p>The fool, Ekimovna, several times interrogated by the monarch, replied -with a sort of cold timidity, which, by-the-bye, did not in the least -prove her natural folly.</p> - -<p>At last the dinner ended. The monarch rose, and after him all the -guests.</p> - -<p>"Gavril Afanassievitch!" he said, addressing the host. "I want a word -with you alone." Taking his arm, he led him into the drawing-room and -locked the door. The guests remaining in the dining-room whispered -about the unexpected visit, and fearing to intrude, dispersed speedily -without expressing to their host the usual after-dinner thanks. His -father-in-law, daughter, and sister accompanied each in silence to the -door, and remained alone in the dining-room awaiting his Majesty's -departure.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4> - - -<p>Half an hour later the door opened and Peter came out. With a solemn -bow to the treble salute from Prince Lykoff, Tatiana Afanassievna, and -Natasha, he passed out into the lobby. The host<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> handed him his long -red overcoat, conducted him to the sledge, and on the door steps again -thanked him for the honour he had done him.</p> - -<p>Peter drove off.</p> - -<p>Returning to the dining-room, Gavril Afanassievitch seemed much -troubled; angrily bade the servants clear the table, sent Natasha to -her apartments, and informed his sister and father-in-law that he must -talk with them. He led them into the bedroom, where he usually took his -after-dinner nap. The old Prince lay down upon the oak bed; Tatiana -Afanassievna sat down upon the ancient damask easy chair, and drew the -footstool towards her; Gavril Afanassievitch locked all the doors and -sat down at Prince Lykoffs feet. In a low voice he began:</p> - -<p>"The Tzar had a reason for coming here to-day. Guess what it was."</p> - -<p>"How can we know, dear brother?" replied Tatiana Afanassievna.</p> - -<p>"Has he commanded you to a voievod?" asked his father-in-law. It is -time he did so long ago. Or he has proposed a mission to you? Why not? -Not always clerks. Important people are sometimes sent to foreign -monarchs.</p> - -<p>"No," replied his son-in-law, scowling. "I am a man of the old pattern; -our services are not required in the present day, though perhaps an -Orthodox Russian nobleman is superior to modern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> upstarts, pancake -hawkers, and Mussulmen. But that is a different matter."</p> - -<p>"Then what was it, brother?" asked Tatiana Afanassievna crossing, -herself.</p> - -<p>"The maiden is ready for marriage, the bridegroom must be in keeping -with the proposer. God grant them love and discretion; of honour there -is plenty."</p> - -<p>"On whose behalf then does the Tzar propose?"</p> - -<p>"Hum, whose? indeed!" exclaimed Gavril Afanassievitch. "Whose! That is -just the point."</p> - -<p>"Whose?" repeated Prince Lykoff half dozing already.</p> - -<p>"Guess," said Gavril Afanassievitch.</p> - -<p>"Dear brother," replied the old lady, "how can we guess? There are many -gentlemen at court. Any one of them would be delighted to marry your -Natasha. Is it Dolgoruki?"</p> - -<p>"No, not Dolgoruki."</p> - -<p>"The Lord be with him, he is so haughty. Shein? Troekuroff?"</p> - -<p>"Neither of them."</p> - -<p>"I don't care for them either. They are flighty and too German. Then it -is Miloslavsky?"</p> - -<p>"No, not he."</p> - -<p>"God be with him, he is rich and stupid. Who then? Is it Eletsky, Lvof? -It cannot be Ragusinski? Well, I cannot imagine. Then whom does the -Tzar wish Natasha to marry?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The Negro Ibrahim."</p> - -<p>The old lady exclaimed and threw up her arms. Prince Lykoff raised -his head from the pillows, and in astonishment repeated: "The negro -Ibrahim?"</p> - -<p>"Dear brother!" said the old lady in a voice full of tears. "Do not -destroy your darling daughter, do not deliver Natashinka into the claws -of the black devil."</p> - -<p>"But how then?" replied Gavril Afanassievitch, "refuse the Tzar, who in -return promises us his protection to me and all our house."</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed the old Prince, who was wide awake now. "Natasha, my -granddaughter, to be married to a bought negro?"</p> - -<p>"He's of good birth," said Gavril Afanassievitch, "he is the son of a -negro Sultan. He was not taken prisoner by the Mussulmen but sold at -Constantinople. Our ambassador bought him and presented him to Peter. -The negro's eldest brother came to Russia with a handsome ransom -and——"</p> - -<p>"We have the legend of Bova Koroleviteh and Eruslana Lasarevitch."</p> - -<p>"Gavril Afanassievitch," added the old lady, "tell us rather how you -replied to the Tzar's proposal."</p> - -<p>"I said that he was in authority over us, and that it was our duty to -submit to him in everything."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<p>At that moment a noise was heard behind the door. Gavril Afanassievitch -went to open it, but something obstructed; he gave a hard push, -the door opened, and he beheld Natasha unconscious lying on the -blood-smeared floor.</p> - -<p>Her heart misgave her when the Tzar was closeted with her father. A -sort of presentiment whispered to her that the matter concerned her; -and when Gavril Afanassievitch bade her to retire, while he conferred -with her aunt and grandfather, she could not resist feminine curiosity, -crawled quietly through the back rooms to the bedroom door, and missed -no word of their terrible conversation. When she heard her father's -last sentence, the poor girl fainted, and falling, struck her head -against the metal-bound chest which held her dowry.</p> - -<p>The servants rushed in, lifted Natasha, carried her to her own suite -of apartments, and laid her upon her bed. After a little she came to -and opened her eyes, but recognised neither father nor aunt. Fever -set in; in her delirium she spoke of marriage and the Tzar's negro, -and suddenly cried in a plaintive and piercing voice: "Valerian, dear -Valerian, my life, save me: There they are, there they are."</p> - -<p>Tatiana Afanassievna glanced anxiously at her brother, who turned -white, bit his lip, and left the room in silence. He returned to the -old Prince,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> who, unable to mount the stairs, had remained below.</p> - -<p>"How is Natasha?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Poorly," replied the sad father; "worse than I thought: in her -delirium she raves about Valerian."</p> - -<p>"Who is this Valerian?" inquired the anxious old man. "Can it be the -orphan son of the musketeer whom you brought up in your house?"</p> - -<p>"The same, to my sorrow!" replied Gavril Afanassievitch. "His father -saved my life during the insurrection, and the devil induced me to take -home the accursed young wolf. Two years ago, at his own request, he -was drafted into the army. Natasha cried at parting with him, while he -stood as if turned to stone. I thought it suspicious, and spoke to my -sister about it. But Natasha has never mentioned him since; and nothing -has been heard of him. I hoped she had forgotten him, but it seems not. -I have decided; she shall marry the negro."</p> - -<p>Prince Lykoff did not contradict him; it would have been useless. He -returned home. Tatiana Afanassievna remained by Natasha's bedside. -Gavril Afanassievitch, after sending for the doctor, locked himself in -his own room, and in his house all was still and sad. This unexpected -proposal of marriage surprised Ibrahim, at any rate, quite as much as -it surprised Gavril Afanassievitch. It happened thus.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> - -<p>Peter, while busy at work with Ibrahim, said to him:</p> - -<p>"I have remarked, my friend, that you are low-spirited; tell me frankly -what it is you want."'</p> - -<p>Ibrahim assured the Tsar that he was contented with his lot, and wished -for nothing better.</p> - -<p>"Good," said the monarch; "if you are sad without a cause, then I know -how to cheer you."</p> - -<p>At the conclusion of their work, Peter inquired of Ibrahim:</p> - -<p>"Do you admire the young lady with whom you danced the minuet at the -last ball?"</p> - -<p>"Sire, she is very nice, and seems a modest, amiable girl."</p> - -<p>"Then you shall make her more intimate acquaintance. Should you like to -marry her?"</p> - -<p>"I, sire?"</p> - -<p>"Listen, Ibrahim; you are a lonely man, without birth or clan, a -stranger to everybody but myself. If I were to die to-day what would -become of you to-morrow, my poor negro? You must get settled while -there is yet time, find support in new ties, connect yourself with the -Russian nobility."</p> - -<p>"Sire, I am contented with you; the protection and favour of your -Majesty. God grant I may not survive my Tsar and benefactor. I desire -nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> more, and even if I had any views of matrimony, would the -young girl or her relations consent? My personal appearance——"</p> - -<p>"Your personal appearance? What nonsense! How, are you not a fine -fellow? A young girl must obey her parent's wishes; but we will see -what old Gavril Rjevski will say when I go myself as your matchmaker."</p> - -<p>With these words the Tsar ordered his sledge, and left Ibrahim wrapped -in deep meditation.</p> - -<p>"Marry," thought the African; "and why not? Surely I am not destined to -pass my life alone, and never know the greatest happiness and the most -sacred duties of manhood, simply because I was born in the torrid zone? -I cannot hope to be loved; what a childish thought! Is it possible to -believe in love? Can it exist in the frivolous heart of woman? The Tsar -is right; I must assure my own future. Marriage with young Rjevski will -unite me to the haughty Russian nobility, and I shall cease to be a -stranger in my new country. From my wife I shall not require love; I -shall content myself with her fidelity and friendship."</p> - -<p>Ibrahim wished to work according to his custom, but his imagination was -too excited. He left the papers, and went out to stroll along the banks -of the Neva. Suddenly he heard Peter's voice, looked round, and saw -the Tsar, who had dismissed his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> sledge and was following "him with a -lively countenance.</p> - -<p>"It is all settled, my friend," said Peter, taking him by the arm; "I -have betrothed you. Tomorrow, call upon your father-in-law, but be -careful to honour the pride of the <i>boyar</i>; leave your sledge at the -gates, and go across the yard on foot, talk to him of his honours and -distinction, and he will be delighted with you. And now," he added, -shaking his cudgel, "take me to the rogue Danileitch, with whom I must -have an interview about his latest pranks."</p> - -<p>Ibrahim thanked Peter most sincerely for his fatherly care, accompanied -him as far as the magnificent mansion of Prince Menshikoff, and -returned home.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h4> - - -<p>Gently burnt the hanging lamp before the glass case, wherein glittered -the gold and silver frames of the ancestral <i>icons.</i> The flickering -light lit faintly the curtained bed, and the table strewn with labelled -phials. Near the fireplace sat a servant at her spinning wheel, and -only the light sound of her distaff broke the silence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Who is there?" asked a weak voice. The maid rose instantly, approached -the bed, and quietly raised the curtain.</p> - -<p>"Will it soon be dawn?" asked Natalia.</p> - -<p>"It is already noon," replied the maid.</p> - -<p>"Oh, heavens! and why is it so dark?"</p> - -<p>"The shutters are closed, miss."</p> - -<p>"Then let me dress quickly."</p> - -<p>"You must not, miss; the doctor forbids it."</p> - -<p>"Am I ill then? How long?"</p> - -<p>"Nearly a fortnight now."</p> - -<p>"Is it really so? And it seems to me but last night that I went to bed."</p> - -<p>Natasha was silent; she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. -Something had happened to her, what it was she could not remember. The -maid stood before her, awaiting her orders. At that moment a muffled -sound was heard below.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" asked the patient.</p> - -<p>"The masters have finished dinner," answered the attendant; "they are -rising from table. Tatiana Afanassievna will be here directly."</p> - -<p>Natasha seemed pleased, she waved her feeble hand. The maid dropped the -curtain and resumed her seat at the spinning wheel.</p> - -<p>A few minutes after, a head, covered with a broad white cap with dark -ribbons, peeped through the door and asked in a low voice:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How is Natasha?"</p> - -<p>"How do you do, auntie?" said the invalid gently, and Tatiana -Afanassievna hurried towards her.</p> - -<p>"The young lady is conscious," said the maid, cautiously moving up -an easy chair. With tears in her eyes the old lady kissed the pale -languid face of her niece, and sat down beside her. Immediately after -her came the German doctor in a black caftan and learned wig. He -counted Natalia's pulse, and told them first in Latin, then in Russian, -that the crisis was over. He asked for paper and ink, wrote a new -prescription, and departed. The old lady rose, kissed Natalia again, -and at once went down with the good news to Gavril Afanassievitch.</p> - -<p>In the drawing-room in full uniform, with sword and hat in hand, sat -the royal negro, talking respectfully with Gavril Afanassievitch. -Korsakoff, stretched full length upon a downy couch, reclined, -listening to their conversation while he teased the greyhound. Tired of -this occupation, he approached a mirror, the usual refuge of the idle, -and in it saw Tatiana Afanassievna behind the door making unperceived -signs to her brother.</p> - -<p>"You are wanted, Gavril Afanassievitch," said Korsakoff to him, -interrupting Ibrahim.</p> - -<p>Gavril Afanassievitch instantly went to his sister, closing the door -behind him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am astonished at your patience," said Korsakoff to Ibrahim. "A whole -hour have you been listening to ravings about the ancient descent -of the Lykoffs and the Rjevskis, and have even added your own moral -observations. In your place <i>j'aurais planté la</i> the old liar and -all his race, including Natalia Gavrilovna, who is only affected and -shamming illness, <i>une petite santé.</i> Tell me truly, is it possible -that you are in love with that little <i>mijaurée?</i>"</p> - -<p>"No," replied Ibrahim, "I am of course marrying, not from love, but -from consideration, and that only if she has no actual dislike for me." -"Listen, Ibrahim," said Korsakoff, "for once take my advice; really I -am wiser than I look. Give up this silly idea—don't marry. It seems -to me that your chosen bride has no particular liking for you. Don't -many things happen in this world? For instance: of course I am not bad -looking, but it has happened to me to deceive husbands who were really -not a whit my inferior. Yourself too.... you remember our Parisian -friend Count L.? A woman's fidelity cannot be counted on. Happy is -he who can bear the change with equanimity. But you! with "your -passionate, brooding, and suspicious nature, with your flat nose, thick -lips, is it with these that you propose to rush into all the dangers of -matrimony?"</p> - -<p>"Thank you for your friendly advice," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> Ibrahim, coldly; "you know -the proverb: 'it is not your duty to rock other folk's children.'"</p> - -<p>"Take care, Ibrahim," replied Korsakoff, smiling, "that it does not -fall to your lot to illustrate that proverb literally later on."</p> - -<p>The conversation in the next room waxed hot.</p> - -<p>"You will kill her," the old lady was saying; "she cannot bear the -sight of him."</p> - -<p>"But just consider," replied her obstinate brother. "For a fortnight -now he has been calling as her accepted bridegroom, and hitherto has -not seen his bride. He might think at last that her illness is simply -an invention, and that we are seeking only to gain time in order to get -rid of him. Besides, what will the Tsar say? He has already sent three -times to ask after Natasha. Do as you please, but I do not intend to -fall out with him."</p> - -<p>"My God!" exclaimed Tatiana Afanassievna; "how will she bear it? At any -rate, let me prepare her for this."</p> - -<p>Gavril Afanassievitch consented, and returned to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>"Thank God!" he said to Ibrahim; "the crisis is over. Natalia is much -better. I do not like to leave our dear guest, Mr. Korsakoff, here -alone> or I would take you upstairs to get a glimpse of your bride."</p> - -<p>Korsakoff congratulated Gavril Afanassievitch,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> begged them not to put -themselves out on his account, assured them that he was obliged to go, -and rushed into the lobby, whither be refused to allow his host to -follow him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Tatiana Afanassievna hastened to prepare the invalid for the -arrival of her terrible visitor. Entering the apartments, she sat down -breathless by the bedside and took Natalia by the hand. But before she -had time to say a word, the door opened.</p> - -<p>"Who has come in?" Natasha asked.</p> - -<p>The old lady felt faint, Gavril Afanassievitch drew back the curtain, -looked coldly at the patient, and inquired how she was. The sick girl -tried to smile but could not. Her father's stern gaze startled her, and -fear overcame her. She fancied some one stood at the head of her bed. -With an effort she raised her head and instantly recognised the Tsar's -negro. At that moment she remembered all, and all the horror of the -future presented itself before her. But exhausted nature could receive -no further perceptible shock. Natasha dropped her head back on the -pillow and closed her eyes, her heart within her gave sickly throbs. -Tatiana Afanassievna signed to her brother that the patient wanted to -go to sleep, and everybody left the apartments quietly. The maid alone -remained and resumed her seat.</p> - -<p>The unhappy beauty opened her eyes, and seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> no one by her bedside, -called the maid and sent her for the dwarf. But at that moment an old, -round creature, like a ball, rolled up to her bed. Tie Swallow (so -the dwarf was nicknamed) had rushed as fast as her short legs would -carry her up the stairs after Gavril Afanassievitch and Ibrahim, and -hid behind the door. Natasha saw her and sent the maid away. The dwarf -sat down on a stool by the bedside Never had so small a body contained -so active a soul. She interfered in everything, knew everything, and -exerted herself about everything. With cunning penetration she knew how -to gain the affection of her masters, and the envy of all the household -over which she wielded autocratic sway. Gavril Afanassievitch listened -to her tales, complaints, and petty requests. Tatiana Afanassievna -asked her opinion every moment and took her advice, while Natasha's -affection for her was unbounded. She confided to her all the thoughts, -all the impulses of her sixteen-year-old heart.</p> - -<p>"Do you know, Swallow," she said, "my father is going to marry me to -the negro." The dwarf sighed deeply, and her wrinkled face became more -wrinkled.</p> - -<p>"Is there no hope?" added Natasha. "Do you think my father will not -have compassion upon me?"</p> - -<p>The dwarf shook her cap.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Won't grandfather intercede for me, or my aunt."</p> - -<p>"No, miss, the negro during your illness managed to bewitch everybody. -Master is mad about him, the prince dreams of him alone, and Tatiana -Afanassievna says it is a pity he is a negro, otherwise we could not -wish for a better bridegroom."</p> - -<p>"My God, my God!" sobbed poor Natasha.</p> - -<p>"Don't grieve, dear beauty," said the dwarf, kissing her feeble -hand. "If you must marry the negro, at any rate you will be your own -mistress. Now it is not as it was in olden times; husbands no longer -imprison their wives; the negro is said to be rich, the house will be -like a full cup—you'll live merrily."</p> - -<p>"Poor Valerian," said Natasha, but so low, that the dwarf only guessed -but did not hear the words.</p> - -<p>"That is just it, miss," she said mysteriously, lowering her voice; "if -you thought less of the sharpshooter's orphan you would not rave of him -in your delirium, and your father would not be angry."</p> - -<p>"What!" inquired Natasha, in alarm; "I raved about Valerian? My father -heard? My father was angry?"</p> - -<p>"That is the misfortune," replied the dwarf. "Now, if you ask him not -to marry you to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> negro, he will think Valerian is the cause. There -is nothing to be done, you had better submit, and what is to be will -be."</p> - -<p>Natasha made no reply. The notion that the secret of her heart was -known to her father had a powerful effect upon her mind. One hope only -was left to her—that she might die before the completion of this -hateful marriage. This idea comforted her. With a weak and sad heart -she resigned herself to her fate.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> - - -<p>In Gavril Afanassievitch's house opening from the hall on the right was -a a narrow room with one window. In it stood a simple bed covered with -a blanket. Before the bed stood a small table of pine wood, on which a -tallow candle burnt, and a book of music lay open. On the wall hung an -old blue uniform and its contemporary, a three-cornered hat; above it -nailed to the wall with three nails hung a picture representing Charles -XII. on horseback. The notes of a flute sounded through this humble -abode. The captive dancing-master, its solitary occupant, in a skull -cap and cotton<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> dressing-gown, was enlivening the dulness of a winter's -evening practising some strange Swedish, marches. After devoting two -whole hours to this exercise the Swede took his flute to pieces, packed -it in a box, and began to undress.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h3><a name="THE_GYPSIES" id="THE_GYPSIES">THE GYPSIES,</a></h3> - -<h5>NARRATIVE AND DRAMATIC POEM.</h5> - - -<p>A noisy band of gypsies are wandering through. Bessarabia. To-day they -will pitch their ragged tents on the banks of the river. Sweet as -freedom is their nights rest, peaceful their slumber.</p> - -<p>Between the cart wheels, half screened by rugs, burns a fire around -which the family is preparing supper. In the open fields graze the -horses, and behind the tents a tame bears lies free. In the heart of -the desert all is movement with the preparations for the morning's -march, with the songs of the women, the cries of the children, and the -sound of the itinerant anvil. But soon upon the wandering band falls -the silence of sleep, and the stillness of the desert is broken only by -the barking of the dogs and the neighing of the horses.</p> - -<p>The fires are everywhere extinguished, all is calm; the moon shines -solitary in the sky, shedding its light over the silent camp.</p> - -<p>In one of the tents is an old man who does not sleep, but remains -seated by the embers, warming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> himself by their last glow. He gazes -into the distant steppes, which are now wrapped in the mists of night. -His youthful daughter has wandered into the distant plains. She is -accustomed to her wild freedom; she will return. But night wears on, -and the moon in the distant clouds is about to set. Zemphira tarries, -and the old man's supper is getting cold. But here she comes, and, -following on her footsteps, a youth, a stranger to the old gypsy.</p> - -<p>"Father," says the maiden, "I bring a guest; I found him beyond the -tombs in the steppes, and I have invited him to the camp for the night. -He wishes to become a gypsy like us. He is a fugitive from the law. But -I will be his companion. He is ready to follow wherever I lead."</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "I am glad. Stay in the shelter of our camp till -morning, or longer it thou wilt. I am-ready to share with thee both -bread and roof. Be one of us. Make trial of our life; of our wandering, -poverty, and freedom. To-morrow, at daybreak, in one van, we will go -together. Choose thy trade: forge iron, or sing songs, leading the bear -from village to village."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "I will remain."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira</i>: "He is mine; who shall take him from me? But it is late.... -the young moon has set, the fields are hidden in darkness, and sleep -overpowers me."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<p>Day breaks. The old man moves softly about the silent camp.</p> - -<p>"Wake, Zemphira, the sun is rising; awake, my guest. 'Tis time, tis -time! Leave, my children, the couch of slothfulness."</p> - -<p>Noisily the clustering crowd expands; the tents are struck; the vans -are ready to start. All is movement, and the horde advances over the -desert.</p> - -<p>Asses with paniers full of sportive children lead the way; husbands, -brothers, wives, daughters, young and old, follow in their wake. What -shouting and confusion! Gypsy songs are mingled with the growling -of the bear, impatiently gnawing at his chain. What a motley of -bright-coloured rags! The naked children! The aged men! Dogs bark and -howl, the bagpipes drone, the carts creak. All is so poor, so wild, -so disorderly, but full of the life and movement ever absent from our -dead, slothful, idle life, monotonous as the songs of slaves.</p> - -<p>The youth gazes disheartened over the desert plain. The secret cause of -his sadness he admits not even to himself. By his side is the dark-eyed -Zemphira. Now he is a free inhabitant of the world, and radiant above -him shines the sun in midday glory. Why, then, does the youth's heart -tremble—what secret sorrow preys upon him?</p> - -<p>God's little bird knows neither care nor labour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> Why should it strive -to build a lasting nest? The night is long, but a branch suffices for -its sleeping place. When the sun comes in his glory, birdie hears the -voice of God, flutters his plumage, and sings his song. After spring, -Nature's fairest time, comes hot summer. Late autumn follows, bringing -mist and cold. Poor men and women are sad and dismal. To distant lands, -to warmer climes beyond the blue sea, flies birdie to the spring. Like -a little careless bird is the wandering exile. For him there is no -abiding nest, no home! Every road is his; at each stopping-place is his -night's lodging. Waking at dawn, he leaves his day at God's disposal, -and the toil of life disturbs not his calm, indolent heart. At times, -glory's enchantment, like a distant star, attracts his gaze; or sudden -visions of luxury and pleasure float before him. Sometimes above his -solitary head growls the thunder, and beneath the thunder, as beneath a -peaceful sky, he sleeps serene. And thus he lives, ignoring the power -of blind treacherous Fate. But once, oh God! how passion played with -his obedient soul! How it raged in his tormented breast! Is it long, -and for how long, that it has left him calm? It will rage again; let -him but wait!</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira</i>: "Friend, tell me, dost thou not regret what thou hast left -for ever?"</p> - -<p><i>Aleko</i>: "What have I left?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Thou knowest; thy people, thy cities."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Regret? If thou knewest, if thou could'st imagine the -confinement of our stifling towns! There people crowded behind walls -never breathe the cool breeze of the morning, nor the breath of -spring-scented meadows. They are ashamed to love, and chase away the -thought. They traffic with liberty, bow their heads to idols, and beg -for money and chains. What have I left? The excitement of treason, the -prejudged sentence, the mob's mad persecution or splendid infamy."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "But there thou hadst magnificent palaces, many coloured -carpets, entertainments, and loud revels; and the maiden's dresses are -so rich!"</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "What is there to please in our noisy towns? The genuine -love, no veritable joy. The maidens. How much dost thou surpass them, -without their rich apparel, their pearls, or their necklaces! Be true, -my gentle friend! My sole wish is to share with thee love, leisure, and -this self-sought exile."</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "Thou lovest us, though born amongst the rich.. But -freedom is not always agreeable to those used to luxury. We have a -legend:—</p> - -<p>"Once a king banished a man from the South to live amongst us—I once -knew but have forgotten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> his difficult name—though old in years he was -youthful, passionate, and simple-hearted. He had a wondrous gift of -song, with a voice like running waters. Everyone liked him. He dwelt -on the banks of the Danube, harming no one, but pleasing many with his -stories. He was helpless, weak, and timid as a child. Strangers brought -him game and fish caught in nets. When the rapid river froze and -winter storms raged high, they clad the saintly old man in soft warm -furs. But he could never be inured to the hardships of a poor man's -life. He wandered about pale and thin, declaring that an offended God -was chastening him for some crime. He waited, hoping for deliverance, -and full of sad regret. The wretched man wandered on the banks of the -Danube shedding bitter tears, as he remembered his distant home, and, -dying, he desired that his unhappy bones should be carried to the -South. Even in death the stranger to these parts could find no rest."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Such is thy children's fate, O Borne, O world-famed Empire! -Singer of love, singer of the gods, say what is glory? The echo from -the tomb, the voice of praise continued from generation to generation, -or a tale told by a gypsy in his smoky tent?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Two years passed. The peaceful gypsy band<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> still wanders, finding -everywhere rest and hospitality. Scorning the fetters of civilisation, -Aleko is free, like them; without regret or care he leads a wandering -life. He is unchanged, unchanged the gypsy band. Forgetful of his past, -he has grown used to a gypsy life. He loves sleeping under their tents, -the delight of perpetual idleness, and their poor but sonorous tongue. -The bear, a deserter from his native haunts, is now a shaggy guest -within his tent. In the villages along the deserted route that passes -in front of some Moldavian dwelling, the bear dances clumsily before -a timid crowd and growls and gnaws his tiresome chain. Leaning on his -staff the old man lazily strikes the tambourine; Aleko, singing, leads -the bear; Zemphira makes the round of the villagers, collecting their -voluntary gifts; when night sets in all three prepare the corn they -have not reaped, the old man sleeps, and all is still.... The tent is -quiet and dark.</p> - -<p>In the spring the old man is warming his numbed blood; at a cradle his -daughter sings of love. Aleko listens, and turns pale.</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira</i>: "Old husband, cruel husband, cut me, burn me, I am firm, -and fear neither knife nor fire. I hate thee, despise thee; I love -another, and loving him will die."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Silence, thy singing annoys me. I dislike wild songs."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Dislike them? And what do I care! I am singing for myself. -Cut me, burn me, I will not complain. Old husband, cruel husband, thou -shalt not discover him. He is fresher than the spring, warmer than -the summer-day. How young and bold he is! How much he loves me! How I -caressed him in the stillness of the night! How we laughed together at -thy white hair."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Silence, Zemphira. Enough!"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Then thou hast understood my song."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Zemphira!"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira</i>: "Be angry if thou wilt.... the song is about thee." (<i>She -retires singing</i>, "<i>Old husband, &c.</i>")</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "Yes, I remember; that song was made in my time, and -has long been sung for folk's amusement. Marioula used; as we wandered -over the Kagula Steppes, to sing it in the winter nights. The memory of -past years grows fainter hourly, but that song impressed me deeply." -. . . . . . . . . . . All is still. It is night, and the moon casts a -sheen over the blue of the southern sky. Zemphira has awakened the old -man.</p> - -<p>"Oh, father! Aleko is terrible; listen to him! In his heavy sleep he -groans and sobs."</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy</i>: "Do not disturb him, keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> quiet. I have heard a -Russian saying that at this time, at midnight, the house spirit often -oppresses a sleeper's breathing, and before dawn quits him again. Stay -with me."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Father, he murmurs Zemphira!"</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "He seeks thee even in his sleep. Thou art dearer to -him than all the world."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira</i>: "I care no longer for his love; I am weary, my heart wants -freedom. I have already—But hush! dost thou hear? He repeats another -name."</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "Whose name?"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Dost thou not hear? The hoarse groan, the savage grinding -of his teeth! How terrible! I will rouse him."</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "No, don't chase away the night spirit; it will leave -him of its own accord!"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "He has turned, and raised himself; he calls me, he is -awake. I will go to him. Good night, and sleep."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Where hast thou been?"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "With my father. Some spirit has oppressed thee. In sleep -thy soul has suffered tortures. Thou didst frighten me; grinding thy -teeth and calling out to me."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "I dreamt of thee, and saw as if between us.... I had horrible -thoughts."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Put no faith in treacherous dreams."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Alas! I believe in nothing Neither in dreams, nor in sweet -assurances, nor in thy heart."</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "Young madman. Why dost thou sigh so often? We here -are free. The sky is clean, the women famous for their beauty. Weep -not. Grief will destroy thee."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Father! she loves me no more."</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "Be comforted, friend. She is but a child. Thy sadness -is unreasonable. Thou lovest anxiously and earnestly, but a woman's -heart loves playfully. Behold, through the distant vault the full moon -wanders free, throwing her light equally over all the world. First -she peeps into one cloud, lights it brilliantly, and then glides to -another, making to each a rapid visit. Who shall point out to her one -spot in the heavens and say, 'There shalt thou stay'? Who to the young -girl's heart shall say, 'Love only once and change not'? Be pacified."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "How she loved me! How tenderly she leant upon me in the -silent desert when we were together in the hours of night! Full of -child-like gaiety, how often, with her pleasant prattle or intoxicating -caress, has she in an instant chased away my gloom! And now, Zemphira -is false! My Zemphira is cold!"</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "Listen, and I will tell thee a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> story about myself. -Long, long ago, before the Danube was threatened by the Muscovite (thou -seest, Aleko, I speak of an ancient sorrow), at a time when we feared -the Sultan who, through Boodjak Pasha, ruled the country from the lofty -towers of Ackerman. I was young then, and my bosom throbbed with the -passion of youth. My curly locks were not streaked with white. Among -the young beauties there was one.... To whom I turned as to the sun, -till at last I called her mine. Alas! like a falling star, my youth -swiftly sped. Still briefer was our love. Marioula loved me but one -year."</p> - -<p>"One day, by the waters of Kagula, we encountered a strange band of -gypsies, who pitched their tents near ours at the foot of the hill. -Two nights we passed together. On the third, they left, and Marioula -forsook her little daughter and followed them. I slept peacefully. -Day broke, and I awoke; my companion was not there. I searched, I -called—no trace remained. Zemphira cried, I wept too! From that moment -I became indifferent to all womankind. Never since has my gaze sought -amongst them a new companion. My dreary hours I have spent alone."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "What! Didst thou not instantly pursue the ingrate and her -paramour, to plunge thy dagger in their false hearts?"</p> - -<p><i>The Old Gypsy:</i> "Why should I? Youth is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> freer than the birds. Who can -restrain love? Everyone has his turn of happiness. Once fled, it will -never return."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "No, I am different. Without a struggle never would I yield -my rights. At least, I would enjoy revenge. Ah, no! Even if I were to -find my enemy lying asleep over the abyss of the sea, I declare that -even then my foot should not spare him, but should unflinchingly kick -the helpless villain into the depths of the ocean, and mock his sudden -terrible awakening with a savage laugh of exultation. Long would his -fall resound a sweet and merry echo in my ears." . . . . . . . <i>A Young -Gypsy</i>: "One kiss, just one more embrace."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "My husband is jealous and angry. I must go!"</p> - -<p><i>The Young Gypsy</i>: "Once more.... a longer one.... at parting."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Good-bye. Here he comes."</p> - -<p><i>The Young Gypsy:</i> "Tell me. When shall we meet again?"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "To-night, when the moon rises over the hill beyond the -tombs."</p> - -<p><i>The Young Gypsy:</i> "She is deceiving me; she will not come."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Zemphira</i>: "Run—there he is! I will be there, beloved!"</p> - -<p>Aleko sleeps, and in his mind dim visions play. With a cry he wakes in -the dark, and, stretching out his jealous arm, clutches with a startled -hand the cold bed. His companion is far away..... Trembling he sits up -and listens.... All is quiet! Fear comes upon him. He shivers, then -grows hot. Rising from his bed, he leaves the tent, and, terribly -pale, wanders round the vans. All is silent, the fields are still, -and it is dark. The moon has risen in a mist, and the twinkling stars -are scarcely seen. But on the dewy grass slight footprints can be -discovered, leading to the tombs. With hurried tread he follows on the -path made by the ill-omened footmarks.</p> - -<p>In the distance, on the road side, a tomb shines white before him. -Carried along by his hesitating feet, full of dread presentiment, -his lips quivering, his knees trembling ... he proceeds ... when -suddenly ... can it be a dream? Suddenly he perceives two shadows close -together, and hears two voices whispering over the desecrated grave.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p> -<i>The First Voice</i>: "'Tis time."<br /> -<i>The Second Voice</i>: "Wait."<br /> -<i>The First Voice</i>: "'Tis time, my love."<br /> -<i>The Second Voice</i>: "No, no! We will wait till morning."<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span><i>The First Voice</i>: "'Tis late already."<br /> -<i>The Second Voice</i> "How timidly thou lovest! One moment more."<br /> -<i>The First Voice</i>: "Thou wilt destroy me!"<br /> -<i>The Second Voice</i>: "One moment!"<br /> -<i>The First Voice</i>: "If my husband wakes and I am not——"<br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "I am awake. Whither are you going? Don't hurry; you both are -well here—by the grave."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira</i>: "Run, run, my friend."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Stop! Whither goest thou, my beautiful youth? Lie there!" -(<i>He plunges his knife into him.</i>)</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Aleko!"</p> - -<p><i>The Young Gypsy:</i> "I am dying!"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Aleko, thou wouldst kill him! Look, thou art covered with -blood! Oh, what hast thou done?"</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Nothing; thou canst now enjoy his love."</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "Enough, I do not fear thee! Thy threats I despise, and thy -deed of murder I curse."</p> - -<p><i>Aleko:</i> "Then die thyself!"</p> - -<p><i>Zemphira:</i> "I die, loving him." . . . . . . . From the east the -light of day is shining. Beyond the hill Aleko, besmeared with blood, -sits on the grave-stone, knife in hand. Two corpses lie before him. -The murderer's face is terrible. An excited crowd of timid gypsies -surrounds him. A grave is being dug. A procession of sorrowing women -approaches, and each in turn kisses the eyes of the dead. The old -father sits apart, staring at his dead daughter in dumb despair. The -corpses are then raised, and into the cold bosom of the earth the young -couple are lowered. From a distance Aleko looks on. When they are -buried, and the last handful of earth thrown over them, without a word -he slowly rolls from off the stone on to the grass. Then the old man -approaches him, and says:</p> - -<p>"Leave us, proud man. We area wild people and have no laws. We neither -torture nor execute. We exact neither tears nor blood, but with a -murderer we cannot live. Thou art not born to our wild life. Thou -wouldst have freedom for thyself alone. The sight of thee would be -intolerable to us; we are a timid, gentle folk. Thou art fierce and -bold. Depart, then; forgive us, and peace be with thee!"</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>He ended, and with great clamour all the wandering band arose, and at -once quitted the ill-fated camp and quickly vanished into the distant -desert tract. But one van, covered with old rugs, remained in the fatal -plain standing alone.</p> - -<p>So, at the coming of winter and its morning mists, a flock of belated -cranes rise from a field loudly shrieking and flying to the distant -South, while one sad bird, struck by a fatal shot, with wounded -drooping wing, remains behind. Evening came. By the melancholy van no -fire was lighted; and no one slept beneath its covering of rugs that -night.</p> - - -<h4>THE END.</h4> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen of Spades and other stories, by -Alexander Pushkin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN OF SPADES, OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 55024-h.htm or 55024-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/2/55024/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Queen of Spades and other stories - -Author: Alexander Pushkin - -Translator: Mrs Sutherland Edwards - -Release Date: July 1, 2017 [EBook #55024] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN OF SPADES, OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -Images generously made available by the Internet Archive. - - - - - -THE QUEEN OF SPADES - -AND OTHER STORIES. - -BY - -ALEXANDER PUSHKIN. - -TRANSLATED BY - -MRS. SUTHERLAND EDWARDS. - -_BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED._ - -LONDON: - -CROOME & CO., - -322, UPPER STREET, N. - -1892 - - - - -CONTENTS - - BIOGRAPHY OF PUSHKIN - THE QUEEN OF SPADES - THE PISTOL SHOT - THE SNOWSTORM - THE UNDERTAKER - THE POSTMASTER - THE LADY RUSTIC - KIRDJALI - THE HISTORY OF THE VILLAGE OF GOROHINA - PETER THE GREAT'S NEGRO - THE GYPSIES - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - "THE OLD MAGICIAN CAME AT ONCE" - "SEATED BEFORE HER LOOKING GLASS" - "PAUL AND LISAVETA" - "THERE SHE SHED TEARS" - "SHE TORE IT INTO A HUNDRED PIECES" - "A FOOTMAN IN A GREASY DRESSING GOWN" - "A STRANGE MAN HAD APPEARED" - "ONE GLANCE SHOWED HER THAT HE WAS NOT THERE" - "HERMANN STARTED AND FELL BACKWARDS" - "HE SAW BEFORE HIM A QUEEN OF SPADES" - "THE OFFICER SEIZED A BRASS CANDLESTICK" - "HERE IS A MEMENTO OF OUR DUEL" - "WE CLUTCHED OUR SWORDS" - "HIS LIFE AT LAST WAS IN MY HANDS" - "SILVIO! _YOU_ KNEW SILVIO?" - "MASHA THREW HERSELF AT HIS FEET" - "THE LOVERS MET IN THE PINE WOOD" - "SHE BURST INTO TEARS" - "A TIME OF GLORY AND DELIGHT" - "IN THE IVY BOWER" - - - - -PUSHKIN. - - -Alexander Sergueievitch Pushkin came of a noble family, so ancient that -it was traced back to that Alexander Nevsky who, in the thirteenth -century, gained a great victory over the Swedes upon the ice of the -River Neva, in token whereof he was surnamed "Nevsky" of the Neva. - -His mother, Nadejda Ossipovna Hannibal, was the grand-daughter of -Abraham Petrovitch Hannibal, Peter the Great's famous negro. His -father, Surguei Lvovitch Pushkin, was a frivolous man of pleasure. - -The poet was born on the 26th of May, 1799, at Moscow. He was an -awkward and a silent child. He was educated by French tutors. A poor -scholar, he read with eagerness whatever he could get in his father's -library, chiefly the works of French authors. His brother states -that at eleven years old Pushkin knew French literature by heart. -This cannot, of course, be taken literally; but it shows under what -influence he grew up. In October, 1811, he entered the Lyceum of -Tsarskoe Selo. Among the students a society was soon formed, whose -members were united by friendship and by a taste for literature. They -brought out several periodicals, in which tales and poems formed the -chief features. Of this society (the late Prince Gortchakoff belonged -to it) Pushkin was the leading spirit. His first printed poem appeared -in the _Messenger of Europe_ in 1814. At a public competition in 1815, -at which the veteran poet Derjavin was present, Pushkin read his -"Memories of Tsarskoe Selo." This poem, which contains many beautiful -passages, so delighted Derjavin, that he wished to embrace the young -author; but Pushkin fled in confusion from the hall. - -In June, 1817, Pushkin's free and careless student life ended. After -finishing his course at the Lyceum he went to St. Petersburg, and, -though he entered thoroughly into the dissipated pleasures of its -turbulent youth, he still clung to the intellectual society of such men -as Jukovsky and Karamsin, men occupied in literature, whose friendship -he valued very highly. - -At that time society was much disturbed. Political clubs were -everywhere being formed. In every drawing-room new views were freely -and openly advanced; and in these discussions the satire and brilliant -verse of Pushkin attracted general attention. These at last brought -him into great danger. But Karamsin came to his rescue, and managed -to get him an appointment at Ekaterinoslavl, in the office of the -Chief Inspector of the Southern Settlements. There he remained till -1824, travelling from place to place, first with the Raevskys to the -Caucasus, and thence again with them through the Crimea. This journey -gave him materials for his "Prisoner of the Caucasus," and "Fountain of -Bachtchisarai." Both poems reveal the influence of Byron. - -Towards the end of 1820 he went to Bessarabia with his chief, who had -just been appointed viceroy of the province. Once, on account of some -quarrel, this person, Insoff by name, sent Pushkin to Ismail. There the -poet joined a band of gypsies and remained with them for some time in -the Steppes. In 1823 he went to Odessa, having been transferred to the -office of the new governor-general, Count Vorontsoff, who succeeded -Insoff. - -Here he wrote part of "Evguenie Onegin," a sort of Russian "Don Juan," -full of sublime passages and varied by satire and bitter scorn. This -work has lately been formed the subject of a very successful opera -by Tchaikovski, who took from Pushkin's poems a story now known and -admired by every educated Russian. - -The poet, however, did not get on with his new chief. A scathing -epigram upon Vorontsoff led the count to ask for Pushkin's removal from -Odessa, "where," he said, "excessive flattery had turned the young -maids head." - -Pushkin had to resign; and early in August, 1824, he was sent into -retirement to live under the supervision of the local authorities at -Michailovskoe, a village belonging to his father in the province of -Pskoff. Here the elder Pushkin kept a petty watch over his son, whom he -regarded as a perverted nature and, indeed, a kind of monster. - -In October, however, the father left Michailovskoe, and the poet -remained alone with Arina Rodionovna, an old woman who had nursed -him in childhood, and whose tales had first inspired him with a love -of Russian popular poetry. At Michailovskoe, Pushkin continued his -"Evguenie Onegin," finished "The Gypsies," and wrote the drama of -"Boris Godunoff." Here he lived more than two years--years of seclusion -following a long period of town life and dissipation. - -These two years spent in the simple, pleasant company of country -neighbours proved a turning point in his career. Now for the first time -he had leisure to look about him, to meditate, and to rest. - -He had come into the country with a passionate love for everything -that showed the feeling or fancy of the Russian peasant. His taste -for popular poetry was insatiable. He listened to his old nurse's -stories, collected and noted down songs, studied the habits and customs -of Russian villages, and began a serious study of Russian history. -All this helped greatly to develop the popular side of his genius. He -afterwards relinquished his earlier models of the romantic school, and -sought a simpler, truer inspiration in the pages of Shakespeare. - -Writing to a friend, Bashkin says that he has brought up from the -country to Moscow the two last cantos of "Evguenie Onegin," ready for -the press, a poem called "The Little House at Kolomna," and several -dramatic scenes, including "The Miser Knight," "Mozart and Salieri," -"The Beast during the Plague" and "The Commander's Statue." - -"Besides that," he goes on to say, "I have written about thirty short -poems, Nor is that, all, I have also (a great secret) written some -prose--five short tales." - -Fortunately for him, Pushkin was living in the country, when, in -December, 1825, the insurrection and military revolt against the -Emperor Nicholas, who had just ascended the throne, broke out at St. -Petersburg. - -Pushkin was affiliated to the secret society, with Pestle and Ryleieff -at its head, which had organised the rebellion; and, on receiving -a summons from his confederates, he started for the capital. So, -at least, says Alexander Herzen in his curious "Development of -Revolutionary Ideas in Russia." On leaving his country house, Pushkin -met three ill omens. First a hare crossed his path, next he saw a -priest, and, finally, he met a funeral. He went on, however, towards -Moscow, and there learned that the insurrection had been crushed. The -five principal leaders were executed, and whole families were exiled to -Siberia. - -In September, 1826, the Emperor Nicholas had an interview with Pushkin -at Moscow. Pushkin replied simply and frankly to all the Tsar's -questions, and the latter at last promised in future to be himself sole -censor of the poet's works. - -Pushkin remained at Moscow till about the end of the winter of 1827, -when he was allowed to go to St. Petersburg. There he afterwards -chiefly resided, returning sometimes to the country to work, usually in -autumn, when his power of production, he said, was strongest. - -In the summer of 1829 Pushkin visited the Army of the Caucasus then -operating against the Turks. He describes his experiences in his -"Journey to Erzeroum." - -On the 18th of February, 1831, he married Natalia Nikolaevna -Gontcharova, and soon afterwards received a Foreign Office appointment -with a salary of 5,000 roubles. - -In August, 1833, meaning to write a novel on the Pugatcheff -Insurrection, Pushkin paid a short visit to Kazan and Orenburg to -acquaint himself with the locality and collect materials. But his tale, -"The Captain's Daughter," appeared considerably later. - -Pushkin and his wife were invited to the court balls, and the Emperor -was very gracious and attentive to the poet. - -This roused the jealousy of the court nobles, though in descent -Pushkin was not inferior to many of them. The studied hauteur of these -personages caused the poet much irritation, and led him to waste much -energy on petty struggles for social precedence. He was, moreover, -constantly in lack of means to meet the expenses attending his -position. Partly on this account he undertook, in 1836, the editorship -of the _Contemporary Review_, and continued it until his death. In -the four numbers issued under his care, Pushkin published original -articles, besides the translations then so much in vogue. - -All the publications of that time were made to serve the personal aims -of their editor. It was useless to seek in them impartiality. Pushkin's -criticism, however, were independent, and for this reason they made -a deep impression. On starting his Review he had taken great care -to entrust the criticism to a small circle of the most accomplished -writers. - -Pushkin's correspondence throws full light on his character, and -reveals it as frank, sincere, and independent. His letters show that he -had original ideas on literature, on contemporary politics, on social -and domestic relations, and, in short, on every subject. These views -were always clear and independent of party. - -During his later years the poet felt a longing for the country. As -early as 1835 he petitioned for some years' leave in order that he -might retire from the capital. In his last poem, "To my Wife," he says -how weary he is of noisy town existence and how he longs for rest. - -At the end of 1836 scandals were circulated at St. Petersburg about -his wife. Dantes von Heckeeren, an officer in the Horse Guards, began -openly to pay her attention. Pushkin and many of his friends received -anonymous letters maliciously hinting at Dantes success. Dantes's -father, a dissipated old man, threw oil upon the flames. Meeting Madame -Pushkin in society, he did his best to make her quarrel with, and leave -her husband. - -All this being repeated to Pushkin, greatly incensed him. He challenged -young Heckeeren, but the latter made an offer to Madame Pushkin's -sister, and married her. This did little to mend matters. Pushkin -withdrew the challenge, but nursed his hatred for Dantes, and would not -receive him in his house. - -Meanwhile the scandal grew, and the two Heckeerens continued their -persecution of Madame Pushkin. In society, Dantes was said to have -married the sister-in-law only to pay court to the wife. Pushkin, -always convinced of his wife's innocence, showed for her the -tenderest consideration. He wrote, however, a very insulting letter -to old Heckeeren after which a duel between Pushkin and the son -became inevitable. It was fought on the banks of the Black Elver, -near the commandant of St. Petersburg's summer residence. After it -Dantes Heckeeren, no longer able to remain in Russia, resigned his -commission and went to France, where he took up politics, and, as Baron -d'Heckeeren, was known as a senator in the Second Empire. - -Pushkin was already wounded in the body when he fired at Dantes, and -hit the arm with which Dantes had guarded his breast. - -"At six o'clock in the afternoon," writes Jukovsky, to the poet's -father, "Alexander was brought home in a hopeless condition by -Lieutenant--Colonel Dansasse, the old schoolfellow who had acted as his -second. The butler carried him from the carriage into the house. - -"It grieves you, my friend," said Pushkin, "to see me thus?" Then he -asked for clean linen. While he was undressing, Madame Pushkin, not -knowing what had happened, wished to come in. But her husband called -out loudly, "_N'entrez pas, il y a du monde chez moi._" He was afraid -of alarming her. She was not admitted till he was already lying on the -couch. - -"How happy I am," were his first words to her; "I am still alive, with -you by my side. Be comforted, you are not to blame. I know it was not -your fault." Meanwhile he did not let her know that his wound was -serious. Doctors were sent for--Scholtz and Sadler came. Pushkin asked -everyone to leave the room. - -"I am in a bad way," he said, holding out his hand to Scholtz. After -examining him Sadler went off to fetch the necessary instruments. Left -alone with Scholtz, Pushkin inquired what he thought of his condition. - -"Tell me candidly." - -"You are in danger." - -"Say, rather, that I am dying." - -"It is my duty not to conceal from you even that," replied Scholtz. -"But we shall have the opinion of the other doctors who have been sent -for." - -"_Je vous remercie; vous avez agi en honnete homme envers moi,_" said -Pushkin; adding after a pause, "_Il faut que j'arrange ma maison_." - -"Do you wish to see any of your family?" asked Scholtz. - -"Farewell, my friends," said Pushkin, looking towards his books. - -Whether at that moment he was taking leave of animate or inanimate -friends I know not. After another pause, he said: - -"Do you think I shall not last another hour?" - -"No. But I thought you might like to see some of your friends." - -He asked for several. When Spaski (another doctor) came near and tried -to give him hope, Pushkin waved his hand in dissent, and from that -moment apparently ceased to think about himself. All his anxiety was -for his wife. By this time Prince and Princess Viasemsky, Turgueneff, -Count Vielgorsky, and myself had come. Princess Viasemsky was with the -wife, who, in terrible distress, glided like a spectre in and out of -the room where her husband lay. He was on a couch with his back to the -window and door, and unable to see her; though every time she entered -or merely stood in the doorway he was conscious of it. - -"Is my wife here?" he asked; "take her away." He was afraid to let her -come near him lest she should be pained by his sufferings, though he -bore them with wonderful fortitude. - -"What is my wife doing?" he asked once of Spaski. "She, poor thing, is -suffering innocently. Society will devour her!" - -"I have been in thirty battles," said Dr. Arendt; "and I have seen -many men die, but very few like him." - -It was strange how in those last hours of his existence he seemed to -have changed. The storm which only a few hours before had raged so -fiercely in him had disappeared, leaving no trace behind. In the midst -of his suffering he recollected that he had the day before received an -invitation to attend the funeral of one of Gretcheff's sons. - -"If you see Gretcheff," he said to Spaski, "give him my kind regards, -and tell him how sincerely I sympathise with him in his affliction." - -Asked to confess and to receive the sacrament, Pushkin assented gladly. -It was settled that the priest should be invited to come in the morning. - -At midnight, Dr. Arendt came from the palace, where he had been to -inform the Emperor. His Majesty was at the theatre, and Arendt left -instructions that on his return the Emperor should be told what had -occurred. About midnight a mounted messenger arrived for Arendt. The -Emperor desired him to go at once to Pushkin, and read to him an -autograph letter which the messenger brought. He was then to hasten to -the palace and report upon Pushkin's condition. - -"I shall not go to bed; I shall wait up for you," wrote the Emperor -Nicholas. "And bring back my letter." - -The note was as follows: - -"If it will be the will of God that we shall not meet again, I send -you my pardon, and advise you to receive the last Christian rites. As -to your wife and children, they need cause you no anxiety. I take them -under my own protection." - -The dying man immediately complied with the Emperor's wish. A priest -was sent for from the nearest church. Pushkin confessed and received -the sacrament with great reverence. When Arendt read the Emperor's -letter to him, Pushkin took hold of it and kissed it again and again. - -"Give me the letter; I wish to die with it. The letter; where is the -letter?" he called out to Arendt, who was unable to leave it with him, -but tried to pacify him by promising to ask the Emperor's permission to -bring it back again. - -At five in the morning the patient's anguish grew overpowering. The -sufferer began to groan, and Arendt was again sent for. But all efforts -to soothe the pain were futile. Had his wife heard his cries I am -sure she must have gone mad; she could never have borne the agony. -At the first great cry of pain the Princess Viasemsky, who was in -the room, rushed towards her, fearing the effect. But Madame Pushkin -lay motionless on a sofa close to the door which separated her from -her husband's death-bed. According to both Spaski and Arendt the -dying man stifled his cries at the moment of supreme anguish, and -only groaned in fear lest his wife might hear him and suffer. To the -last Pushkin's mind remained clear and his memory fresh. Before the -next great paroxysm he asked for a paper in his own writing and had -it burnt. Then he dictated to Dansasse a list of some debts, but this -exertion prostrated him. When, between the paroxysms, some bread sop -was brought, he said to Spaski: - -"My wife! call my wife. Let her give it me." - -She entered, dropped on her knees by his side, and after lifting a -couple of spoonfuls to his mouth, leant her cheek against his. He -caressed and patted her head. - -"Come, come," he said, "I am all right. Thank God, all is going on -well. Go now." - -His calm expression of face and steady voice deceived the poor wife. -She came out of his room bright with hope. He asked for his children. -They were brought in half asleep: He blessed each one, making the sign -of the cross, and placing his hand on their head; then he motioned to -have them taken away. Afterwards he asked for his friends who were -present. I then approached and took his hand, which was already cold, -and inquired if I should give any message to the Emperor. - -"Say that I am sorry I am leaving him. I should have been devoted to -him." - -On the 29th of January, at three in the afternoon, after two days of -excruciating pain, Pushkin died. His death was regarded throughout -Russia as a public calamity. In St. Petersburg disturbances were -feared. It was thought that the people might lynch Heckeeren and his -son. A secret funeral was arranged. The body was carried into the -church late at night in the presence of some friends and relations; -and in the neighbouring courtyards piquets were stationed. After the -service the corpse was despatched to the province of Pskoff, and -was buried in the monastery of the Assumption at Sviatogorsk, near -Pushkin's property at Michailovskoe. The Emperor gave about 150,000 -roubles to pay his debts and to bring out a complete edition of his -works, besides granting a liberal pension to the widow. - -On the 6th of June, 1880, was solemnly unveiled at Moscow a statue of -Pushkin, erected by voluntary subscriptions from all parts of Russia. - -Pushkin was slim and of middle height; in childhood his hair was fair -and curly, but afterwards it turned dark brown. His eyes were light -blue, his smile satirical, but good-natured and pleasant; his clever, -expressive face bore evidence of his African descent, as did his quick -and passionate nature. He was irritable, but kind and full of feeling; -his conversation sparkled with wit and good humour, and his memory was -prodigious. Pushkin, it has already been said, was of ancient lineage, -but no Russian is sufficiently well-born to marry into the Imperial -family, and when quite recently the Grand Duke Michael, grandson of -the Emperor Nicholas, married without permission the granddaughter -of Pushkin, he caused the liveliest dissatisfaction in the highest -quarters. The bride may console herself by the reflection that her -grandfather was, in the words of Gogol, "a rare phenomenon; a writer -who gave to his country poems so admirable that they attracted the -attention of the whole civilised world; a poet who won respect and -love for the language, for the living Russian types, the customs, and -national character of Russia. Such a writer is indeed a rarity." - - - - -THE QUEEN OF SPADES. - - -CHAPTER I. - - -There was a card party at the rooms of Narumoff, a lieutenant in the -Horse Guards. A long winter night had passed unnoticed, and it was five -o'clock in the morning when supper was served. The winners sat down to -table with an excellent appetite; the losers let their plates remain -empty before them. Little by little, however, with the assistance of -the champagne, the conversation became animated, and was shared by all. - -"How did you get on this evening, Surin?" said the host to one of his -friends. - -"Oh, I lost, as usual. I really have no luck. I play _mirandole_. You -know that I keep cool. Nothing moves me; I never change my play, and -yet I always lose." - -"Do you mean to say that all the evening you did not once back the red? -Your firmness of character surprises me." - -"What do you think of Hermann?" said one of the party, pointing to a -young Engineer officer. - -"That fellow never made a bet or touched a card in his life, and yet he -watches us playing until five in the morning." - -"It interests me," said Hermann; "but I am not disposed to risk the -necessary in view of the superfluous." - -"Hermann is a German, and economical; that is the whole of the secret," -cried Tomski. "But what is really astonishing is the Countess Anna -Fedotovna!" - -"How so?" asked several voices. - -"Have you not remarked," said Tomski, "that she never plays?" - -"Yes," said Narumoff, "a woman of eighty, who never touches a card; -that is indeed something extraordinary!" - -"You do not know why?" - -"No; is there a reason for it?" - -"Just listen. My grandmother, you know, some sixty years ago, went to -Paris, and became the rage there. People ran after her in the streets, -and called her the 'Muscovite Venus.' Richelieu made love to her, and -my grandmother makes out that, by her rigorous demeanour, she almost -drove him to suicide. In those days women used to play at faro. One -evening at the court she lost, on _parole,_ to the Duke of Orleans, -a very considerable sum. When she got home, my grandmother removed -her beauty spots, took off her hoops, and in this tragic costume went -to my grandfather, told him of her misfortune, and asked him for the -money she had to pay. My grandfather, now no more, was, so to say, his -wife's steward. He feared her like fire; but the sum she named made him -leap into the air. He flew into a rage, made a brief calculation, and -proved to my grandmother that in six months she had got through half a -million rubles. He told her plainly that he had no villages to sell in -Paris, his domains being situated in the neighbourhood of Moscow and -of Saratoff; and finally refused point blank. You may imagine the fury -of my grandmother. She boxed his ears, and passed the night in another -room. - -[Illustration: "THE OLD MAGICIAN CAME AT ONCE."] - -"The next day she returned to the charge. For the first time in her -life, she condescended to arguments and explanations. In vain did she -try to prove to her husband that there were debts and debts, and that -she could not treat a prince of the blood like her coachmaker. - -"All this eloquence was lost. My grandfather was inflexible. My -grandmother did not know where to turn. Happily she was acquainted with -a man who was very celebrated at this time. You have heard of the Count -of St. Germain, about whom so many marvellous stories were told. You -know that he passed for a sort of Wandering Jew, and that he was said -to possess an elixir of life and the philosopher's stone. - -"Some people laughed at him as a charlatan. Casanova, in his memoirs, -says that he was a spy. However that may be, in spite of the mystery of -his life, St. Germain was much sought after in good society, and was -really an agreeable man. Even to this day my grandmother has preserved -a genuine affection for him, and she becomes quite angry when anyone -speaks of him with disrespect. - -"It occurred to her that he might be able to advance the sum of which -she was in need, and she wrote a note begging him to call. The old -magician came at once, and found her plunged in the deepest despair. -In two or three words she told him everything; related to him her -misfortune and the cruelty of her husband, adding that she had no hope -except in his friendship and his obliging disposition. - -"'Madam,' said St. Germain, after a few moments' reflection, 'I could -easily advance you the money you want, but I am sure that you would -have no rest until you had repaid me, and I do not want to get you out -of one trouble in order to place you in another. There is another way -of settling the matter. You must regain the money you have lost.' - -"'But, my dear friend,' answered my grandmother, 'I have already told -you that I have nothing left.' - -"'That does not matter,' answered St. Germain. 'Listen to me, and I -will explain.' - -"He then communicated to her a secret which any of you would, I am -sure, give a good deal to possess." - -All the young officers gave their full attention. Tomski stopped to -light his Turkish pipe, swallowed a mouthful of smoke, and then went on. - -"That very evening my grandmother went to Versailles to play at the -Queen's table. The Duke of Orleans held the bank. My grandmother -invented a little story by way of excuse for not having paid her debt, -and then sat down at the table, and began to stake. She took three -cards. She won with the first; doubled her stake on the second, and won -again; doubled on the third, and still won." - -"Mere luck!" said one of the young officers. - -"What a tale!" cried Hermann. - -"Were the cards marked?" said a third. - -"I don't think so," replied Tom ski, gravely. - -"And you mean to say," exclaimed Narumoff, "that you have a grandmother -who knows the names of three winning cards, and you have never made her -tell them to you?" - -"That is the very deuce of it," answered Tomski. "She had three sons, -of whom my father was one; all three were determined gamblers, and not -one of them was able to extract her secret from her, though it would -have been of immense advantage to them, and to me also. Listen to what -my uncle told me about it, Count Ivan Ilitch, and he told me on his -word of honour. - -"Tchaplitzki--the one you remember who died in poverty after devouring -millions--lost one day, when he was a young man, to Zoritch about three -hundred thousand roubles. He was in despair. My grandmother, who had no -mercy for the extravagance of young men, made an exception--I do not -know why--in favour of Tchaplitzki. She gave him three cards, telling -him to play them one after the other, and exacting from him at the same -time his word of honour that he would never afterwards touch a card as -long as he lived. Accordingly Tchaplitzki went to Zoritch and asked for -his revenge. On the first card he staked fifty thousands rubles. He -won, doubled the stake, and won again. Continuing his system he ended -by gaining more than he had lost. - -"But it is six o'clock! It is really time to go to bed." - -Everyone emptied his glass and the party broke up. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -The old Countess Anna Fedotovna was in her dressing-room, seated before -her looking-glass. Three maids were in attendance. One held her pot of -rouge, another a box of black pins, a third an enormous lace cap, with -flaming ribbons. The Countess had no longer the slightest pretence to -beauty, but she preserved all the habits of her youth. She dressed in -the style of fifty years before, and gave as much time and attention to -her toilet as a fashionable beauty of the last century. Her companion -was working at a frame in a corner of the window. - -[Illustrated: "SEATED BEFORE HER LOOKING-GLASS."] - -"Good morning, grandmother," said the young officer, as he entered the -dressing-room. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Lise. Grandmother, I have -come to ask you a favour." - -"What is it, Paul?" - -"I want to introduce to you one of my friends, and to ask you to give -him an invitation to your ball." - -"Bring him to the ball and introduce him to me there. Did you go -yesterday to the Princess's?" - -"Certainly. It was delightful! We danced until five o'clock in the -morning. Mademoiselle Eletzki was charming." - -"My dear nephew, you are really not difficult to please. As to beauty, -you should have seen her grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna. But -she must be very old the Princess Daria Petrovna!" - -"How do you mean old?" cried Tomski thoughtlessly; "she died seven -years ago." - -The young lady who acted as companion raised her head and made a sign -to the officer, who then remembered that it was an understood thing to -conceal from the Princess the death of any of her contemporaries. He -bit his lips. The Countess, however, was not in any way disturbed on -hearing that her old friend was no longer in this world. - -"Dead!" she said, "and I never knew it! We were maids of honour in -the same year, and when we were presented, the Empress'"--and the -old Countess related for the hundredth time an anecdote of her young -days. "Paul," she said, as she finished her story, "help me to get up. -Lisaveta, where is my snuff-box?" - -And, followed by the three maids, she went behind a great screen to -finish her toilet. Tomski was now alone with the companion. - -"Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to madame?" asked Lisaveta. - -"Narumoff. Do you know him?" - -"No. Is he in the army?" - -"Yes." - -"In the Engineers?" - -"No, in the Horse Guards. Why did you think he was in the Engineers?" - -The young lady smiled, but made no answer. - -"Paul," cried the Countess from behind the screen, "send me a new -novel; no matter what. Only see that it is not in the style of the -present day." - -"What style would you like, grandmother?" - -"A novel in which the hero strangles neither his father nor his mother, -and in which no one gets drowned. Nothing frightens me so much as the -idea of getting drowned." - -[Illustration: PAUL AND LISAVETA.] - -"But how is it possible to find you such a book? Do you want it in -Russian?" - -"Are there any novels in Russian? However, send me something or other. -You won't forget?" - -"I will not forget, grandmother. I am in a great hurry. Good-bye, -Lisaveta. What made you fancy Narumoff was in the Engineers?" and -Tomski took his departure. - -Lisaveta, left alone, took out her embroidery, and sat down close to -the window. Immediately afterwards, in the street, at the corner of a -neighbouring house, appeared a young officer. The sight of him made the -companion blush to her ears. She lowered her head, and almost concealed -it in the canvas. At this moment the Counters returned, fully dressed. - -"Lisaveta," she said "have the horses put in; we will go out for a -drive." - -Lisaveta rose from her chair, and began to arrange her embroidery. - -"Well, my dear child, are you deaf? Go and tell them to put the horses -in at once." - -"I am going," replied the young lady, as she went out into the -ante-chamber. - -A servant now came in, bringing some books from Prince Paul -Alexandrovitch. - -"Say I am much obliged to him. Lisaveta! Lisaveta! Where has she run -off to?" - -"I was going to dress." - -"We have plenty of time, my dear. Sit down, take the first volume, and -read to me." - -The companion took the book and read a few lines. - -"Louder," said the Countess. "What is the matter with you? Have you a -cold? Wait a moment; bring me that stool. A little closer; that will -do." - -Lisaveta read two pages of the book. - -"Throw that stupid book away," said the Countess. "What nonsense! Send -it back to Prince Paul, and tell him I am much obliged to him; and the -carriage, is it never coming? - -"Here it is," replied Lisaveta, going to the window. - -"And now you are not dressed. Why do you always keep 'me waiting? It is -intolerable." - -Lisaveta ran to her room. She had scarcely been there two minutes when -the Countess rang with all her might. Her maids rushed in at one door -and her valet at the other. - -"You do not seem to hear me when I ring," she cried. "Go and tell -Lisaveta that I am waiting for her." - -At this moment Lisaveta entered, wearing a new walking dress and a -fashionable bonnet. - -"At last, miss," cried the Countess. "But what is that you have got on? -and why? For whom are you dressing? What sort of weather is it? Quite -stormy, I believe." - -"No, your Excellency," said the valet; "it is exceedingly fine." - -"What do you know about it? Open the ventilator. Just what I told you! -A frightful wind, and as icy as can be. Unharness the horses. Lisaveta, -my child, we will not go out to-day. It was scarcely worth while to -dress so much." - -"What an existence!" said the companion to herself. - -Lisaveta Ivanovna was, in fact, a most unhappy creature. "The bread of -the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his staircase hard to climb." -But who can tell the torments of a poor little companion attached to -an old lady of quality? The Countess had all the caprices of a woman -spoilt by the world. She was avaricious and egotistical, and thought -all the more of herself now that she had ceased to play an active part -in society. She never missed a ball, and she dressed and painted in the -style of a bygone age. She remained in a corner of the room, where she -seemed to have been placed expressly to serve as a scarecrow. Every -one on coming in went to her and made her a low bow, but this ceremony -once at an end no one spoke a word to her. She received the whole city -at her house, observing the strictest etiquette, and never failing to -give to everyone his or her proper name. Her innumerable servants, -growing pale and fat in the ante-chamber, did absolutely as they liked, -so that that the house was pillaged as if its owner were really dead. -Lisaveta passed her life in continual torture. If she made tea she was -reproached with wasting the sugar. If she read a novel to the Countess -she was held responsible for all the absurdities of the author. If she -went out with the noble lady for a walk or drive, it was she who was to -blame if the weather was bad or the pavement muddy. Her salary, more -than modest, was never punctually paid, and she was expected to dress -"like every one else," that is to say, like very few people indeed. -When she went into society her position was sad. Everyone knew her; no -one paid her any attention. At a ball she sometimes danced, but only -when a _vis-a-vis_ was wanted. Women would come up to her, take her by -the arm, and lead her out of the room if their dress required attending -to. She had her portion of self-respect, and felt deeply the misery -of her position. She looked with impatience for a liberator to break -her chain. But the young men, prudent in the midst of their affected -giddiness, took care not to honour her with their attentions, though -Lisaveta Ivanovna was a hundred times prettier than the shameless or -stupid girls whom they surrounded with their homage. More than once -she slunk away from the splendour of the drawing-room to shut herself -up alone in her little bed-room, furnished with an old screen and a -pieced carpet, a chest of drawers, a small looking-glass, and a wooden -bedstead. There she shed tears at her ease by the light of a tallow -candle in a tin candlestick. - -One morning--it was two days after the party at Narumoff's, and a -week before the scene we have just sketched--Lisaveta was sitting at -her embroidery before the window, when, looking carelessly into the -street, she saw an officer, in the uniform of the Engineers, standing -motionless with his eyes fixed upon her. She lowered her head, and -applied herself to her work more attentively than ever. Five minutes -afterwards she locked mechanically into the street, and the officer was -still in the same place. Not being in the habit of exchanging glances -with young men who passed by her window, she remained with her eyes -fixed on her work for nearly two hours, until she was told that lunch -was ready. She got up to put her embroidery away, and while doing so, -looked into the street, and saw the officer still in the same place. -This seemed to her very strange. After lunch she went to the window -with a certain emotion, but the officer of Engineers was no longer in -the street. - -[Illustration: "THERE SHE SHED TEARS."] - -She thought no more of him. But two days afterwards, just as she was -getting into the carriage with the Countess, she saw him once more, -standing straight before the door. His face was half concealed by a fur -collar, but his black eyes sparkled beneath his helmet. Lisaveta was -afraid, without knowing why, and she trembled as she took her seat in -the carriage. - -On returning home, she rushed with a beating heart towards the -window. The officer was in his habitual place, with his eyes fixed -ardently upon her. She at once withdrew, burning at the same time with -curiosity, and moved by a strange feeling which she now experienced for -the first time. - -No day now passed but the young officer showed himself beneath the -window. Before long a dumb acquaintance was established between them. -Sitting at her work she felt his presence, and when she raised her head -she looked at him for a long time every day. The young man seemed full -of gratitude for these innocent favours. - -She observed, with the deep and rapid perceptions of youth, that a -sudden redness covered the officer's pale cheeks as soon as their eyes -met. After about a week she would smile at seeing him for the first -time. - -When Tomski asked his grandmother's permission to present one of his -friends, the heart of the poor young girl beat strongly, and when she -heard that it was Narumoff, she bitterly repented having compromised -her secret by letting it out to a giddy young man like Paul. - -Hermann was the son of a German settled in Russia, from whom he had -inherited a small sum of money. Firmly resolved to preserve his -independence, he had made it a principle not to touch his private -income. He lived on his pay, and did not allow himself the slightest -luxury. He was not very communicative; and his reserve rendered it -difficult for his comrades to amuse themselves at his expense. - -Under an assumed calm he concealed strong passions and a -highly-imaginative disposition. But he was always master of himself, -and kept himself free from the ordinary faults of young men. Thus, a -gambler by temperament, he never touched a card, feeling, as he himself -said, that his position did not allow him to "risk the necessary in -view of the superfluous." Yet he would pass entire nights before a -card-table, watching with feverish anxiety the rapid changes of the -game. The anecdote of Count St. Germaines three cards had struck his -imagination, and he did nothing but think of it all that night. - -"If," he said to himself next day as he was walking along the streets -of St. Petersburg, "if she would only tell me her secret--if she would -only name the three winning cards! I must get presented to her, that I -may pay my court and gain her confidence. Yes! And she is eighty-seven! -She may die this week--to-morrow perhaps. But after all, is there a -word of truth in the story? No! Economy, Temperance, Work; these are -my three winning cards. With them I can double my capital; increase it -tenfold. They alone can ensure my independence and prosperity." - -Dreaming in this way as he walked along, his attention was attracted by -a house built in an antiquated style of architecture. The street was -full of carriages, which passed one by one before the old house, now -brilliantly illuminated. As the people stepped out of the carriages -Hermann saw now the little feet of a young woman, now the military boot -of a general. Then came a clocked stocking; then, again, a diplomatic -pump. Fur-lined cloaks and coats passed in procession before a gigantic -porter. - -Hermann stopped. "Who lives here?" he said to a watchman in his box. - -"The Countess Anna Fedotovna." It was Tomski's grandmother. - -Hermann started. The story of the three cards came once more upon his -imagination. He walked to and fro before the house, thinking of the -woman to whom it belonged, of her wealth and her mysterious power. At -last he returned to his den. But for some time he could not get to -sleep; and when at last sleep came upon him, he saw, dancing before -his eyes, cards, a green table, and heaps of rubles and bank-notes. -He saw himself doubling stake after stake, always winning, and then -filling his pockets with piles of coin, and stuffing his pocket-book -with countless bank-notes. When he awoke, he sighed to find that his -treasures were but creations of a disordered fancy; and, to drive such -thoughts from him, he went out for a walk. But he had not gone far when -he found himself once more before the house of the Countess. He seemed -to have been attracted there by some irresistible force. He stopped, -and looked up at the windows. There he saw a girl's head with beautiful -black hair, leaning gracefully over a book or an embroidery-frame. The -head was lifted, and he saw a fresh complexion and black eyes. - -This moment decided his fate. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Lisaveta was just taking off her shawl and her bonnet, when the -Countess sent for her. She had had the horses put in again. - -While two footmen were helping the old lady into the carriage, Lisaveta -saw the young officer at her side. She felt him take her by the hand, -lost her head, and found, when the young officer had walked away, that -he had left a paper between her fingers. She hastily concealed it in -her glove. - -During the whole of the drive she neither saw nor heard. When they were -in the carriage together the Countess was in the habit of questioning -Lisaveta perpetually. - -"Who is that man that bowed to us? What is the name of this bridge? -What is there written on that signboard?" - -Lisaveta now gave the most absurd answers, and was accordingly scolded -by the Countess. - -"What is the matter with you, my child?" she asked. "What are you -thinking about? Or do you really not hear me? I speak distinctly -enough, however, and I have not yet lost my head, have I?" - -Lisaveta was not listening. When she got back to the house, she ran to -her room, locked the door, and took the scrap of paper from her glove. -It was not sealed, and it was impossible, therefore, not to read it. -The letter contained protestations of love. It was tender, respectful, -and translated word for word from a German novel. But Lisaveta did -not read German, and she was quite delighted. She was, however, -much embarrassed. For the first time in her life she had a secret. -Correspond with a young man! The idea of such a thing frightened her. -How imprudent she had been! She had reproached herself, but knew not -now what to do. - -Cease to do her work at the window, and by persistent coldness try and -disgust the _young_ officer? Send him back his letter? Answer him in -a firm, decided manner? What line of conduct was she to pursue? She -had no friend, no one to advise her. She at last decided to send an -answer. She sat down at her little table, took pen and paper, and began -to think. More than once she wrote a sentence and then tore up the -paper. What she had written seemed too stiff, or else it was wanting in -reserve. At last, after much trouble, she succeeded in composing a few -lines which seemed to meet the case. - -"I believe," she wrote, "that your intentions are those of an -honourable man, and that you would not wish to offend me by any -thoughtless conduct. But you must understand that our acquaintance -cannot begin in this way. I return your letter, and trust that you will -not give me cause to regret my imprudence." - -Next day, as soon as Hermann made his appearance, Lisaveta left her -embroidery, and went into the drawing-room, opened the ventilator, and -threw her letter into the street, making sure that the young officer -would pick it up. - -[Illustration: SHE TORE IT INTO A HUNDRED PIECES.] - -Hermann, in fact, at once saw it, and picking it up, entered a -confectioner's shop in order to read it. Finding nothing discouraging -in it, he went home sufficiently pleased with the first step in his -love adventure. - -Some days afterwards, a young person with lively eyes called to see -Miss Lisaveta, on the part of a milliner. Lisaveta wondered what she -could want, and suspected, as she received her, some secret intention. -She was much surprised, however, when she recognised, on the letter -that was now handed to her, the writing of Hermann. - -"You make a mistake," she said; "this letter is not for me." - -"I beg your pardon," said the milliner, with a slight smile; "be kind -enough to read it." - -Lisaveta glanced at it. Hermann was asking for an appointment. - -"Impossible!" she cried, alarmed both at the boldness of the request, -and at the manner in which it was made. "This letter is not for me," -she repeated; and she tore it into a hundred pieces. - -"If the letter was not for you, why did you tear it up? You should have -given it me back, that I might take it to the person it was meant for." - -"True," said Lisaveta, quite disconcerted. - -"But bring me no more letters, and tell the person who gave you this -one that he ought to blush for his conduct." - -Hermann, however, was not a man to give up what he had once undertaken. -Every day Lisaveta received a fresh letter from him, sent now in one -way, now in another. They were no longer translated from the German. -Hermann wrote under the influence of a commanding passion, and spoke a -language which was his own. Lisaveta could not hold out against such -torrents of eloquence. She received the letters, kept them, and at last -answered them. Every day her answers were longer and more affectionate, -until at last she threw out of the window a letter couched as follows:-- - -"This evening there is a ball at the Embassy. The Countess will be -there. We shall remain until two in the morning. You may manage to -see me alone. As soon as the Countess leaves home, that is to say -towards eleven o'clock, the servants are sure to go out, and there -will be no one left but the porter, who will be sure to be asleep in -his box. Enter as soon as it strikes eleven, and go upstairs as fast -as possible. If you find anyone in the ante-chamber, ask whether the -Countess is at home, and you will be told that she is out, and, in -that case, you must resign yourself, and go away. In all probability, -however, you will meet no one. The Countess's women are together in a -distant room. When you are once in the ante-chamber, turn to the left, -and walk straight on, until you reach the Countess's bedroom. There, -behind a large screen, you will see two doors. The one on the right -leads to a dark room. The one on the left leads to a corridor, at the -end of which is a little winding staircase, which leads to my parlour." - -At, ten o'clock Hermann was already on duty before the Countess's door. -It was a frightful night. The winds had been unloosed, and the snow was -falling in large flakes; the lamps gave an uncertain light; the streets -were deserted; from time to time passed a sledge, drawn by a wretched -hack, on the look-out for a fare. Covered by a thick overcoat, Hermann -felt neither the wind nor the snow. At last the Countesses carriage -drew up. He saw two huge footmen come forward and take beneath the arms -a dilapidated spectre, and place it on the cushions well wrapped up in -an enormous fur cloak. Immediately afterwards, in a cloak of lighter -make, her head crowned with natural flowers, came Lisaveta, who sprang -into the carriage like a dart. The door was closed, and the carriage -rolled on softly over the snow. - -The porter closed the street door, and soon the windows of the first -floor became dark. Silence reigned throughout the house. Hermann walked -backwards and forwards; then coming to a lamp he looked at his watch. -It was twenty minutes to eleven. Leaning against the lamp-post, his -eyes fixed on the long hand of his watch, he counted impatiently the -minutes which had yet to pass. At eleven o'clock precisely Hermann -walked up the steps, pushed open the street door, and went into the -vestibule, which was well lighted. As it happened the porter was not -there. With a firm and rapid step he rushed up the staircase and -reached the ante-chamber. There, before a lamp, a footman was sleeping, -stretched out in a dirty greasy dressing-gown. Hermann passed quickly -before him and crossed the dining-room and the drawing-room, where -there was no light. But the lamp of the ante-chamber helped him to see. -At last he reached the Countess's bedroom. Before a screen covered with -old icons (sacred pictures) a golden lamp was burning. Gilt arm-chairs, -sofas of faded colours, furnished with soft cushions, were arranged -symmetrically along the walls, which were hung with China silk. He -saw two large portraits painted by Madame le Brun. One represented a -man of forty, stout and full coloured, dressed in a light green coat, -with a decoration on his breast. The second portrait was that of an -elegant young woman, with an aquiline nose, powdered hair rolled back -on the temples, and with a rose over her ear. Everywhere might be seen -shepherds and shepherdesses in Dresden china, with vases of all shapes, -clocks by Leroy, work-baskets, fans, and all the thousand playthings -for the use of ladies of fashion, discovered in the last century, at -the time of Montgolfier's balloons and Mesmer's animal magnetism. - -[Illustration: "A FOOTMAN IN A GREASY DRESSING GOWN."] - -Hermann passed behind the screen, which concealed a little iron -bedstead. He saw the two doors; the one on the right leading to the -dark room, the one on the left to the corridor. He opened the latter, -saw the staircase which led to the poor little companion's parlour, and -then, closing this door, went into the dark room. - -The time passed slowly. Everything was quiet in the house. The -drawing-room clock struck midnight, and again there was silence. -Hermann was standing up, leaning against the stove, in which there was -no fire. He was calm; but his heart beat with quick pulsations, like -that of a man determined to brave all dangers he might have to meet, -because he knows them to be inevitable. He heard one o'clock strike; -then two; and soon afterwards the distant roll of a carriage. He now, -in spite of himself, experienced some emotion. The carriage approached -rapidly and stopped. There was at once a great noise of servants -running about the staircases, and a confusion of voices. Suddenly the -rooms were all lit up, and the Countess's three antiquated maids came -at once into the bed-room. At last appeared the Countess herself. - -The walking mummy sank into a large Voltaire arm-chair. Hermann looked -through the crack in the door; he saw Lisaveta pass close to him, and -heard her hurried step as she went up the little winding staircase. -For a moment he felt something like remorse; but it soon passed off, -and his heart was once more of stone. - -[Illustration: "A STRANGE MAN HAD APPEARED."] - -The Countess began to undress before a looking-glass. Her head-dress of -roses was taken off, and her powdered wig separated from her own hair, -which was very short and quite white. Pins fell in showers around -her. At last she was in her dressing-gown and night cap, and in this -costume, more suitable to her age, was less hideous than before. - -Like most old people, the Countess was tormented by sleeplessness. She -had her armchair rolled towards one of the windows, and told her maids -to leave her. The lights were put out, and the room was lighted only by -the lamp which burned before the holy images. The Countess, sallow and -wrinkled, balanced herself gently from right to left. In her dull eyes -could be read an utter absence of thought; and as she moved from side -to side, one might have said that she did so not by any action of the -will, but through some secret mechanism. - -Suddenly this death's-head assumed a new expression; the lips ceased to -tremble, and the eyes became alive. A strange man had appeared before -the Countess! - -It was Hermann. - -"Do not be alarmed, madam," said Hermann, in a low voice, but very -distinctly. "For the love of Heaven, do not be alarmed. I do not wish -to do you the slightest harm; on the contrary, I come to implore a -favour of you." - -The old woman looked at him in silence, as if she did not understand. -Thinking she was deaf, he leaned towards her ear and repeated what he -had said; but the Countess still remained silent. - -"You can ensure the happiness of my whole life, and without its costing -you a farthing. I know that you can name to me three cards----" - -The Countess now understood what he required. - -"It was a joke," she interrupted. "I swear to you it was only a joke." - -"No, madam," replied Hermann in an angry tone. "Remember Tchaplitzki, -and how you enabled him to win." - -The Countess was agitated. For a moment her features expressed strong -emotion; but they soon resumed their former dulness. - -"Cannot you name to me," said Hermann, "three winning cards?" - -The Countess remained silent. "Why keep this secret for your -great-grandchildren," he continued. "They are rich enough without; -they do not know the value of money. Of what profit would your three -cards be to them? They are debauchees. The man who cannot keep his -inheritance will die in want, though he had the science of demons at -his command. I am a steady man. I know the value of money. Your three -cards will not be lost upon me. Come!" - -He stopped tremblingly, awaiting a reply. The Countess did not utter a -word. Hermann went upon his knees. - -"If your heart has ever known the passion of love; if you can remember -its sweet ecstasies; if you Pave ever been touched by the cry of a -newborn babe; if any human feeling has ever caused your heart to beat, -I entreat you by the love of a husband, a lover, a mother, by all -that is sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Tell me your secret! -Reflect! You are old; you Pave not long to live! Remember that the -happiness of a man is in your hands; that not only myself, but my -children and my grandchildren will bless your memory as a saint." - -The old Countess answered not a word. - -Hermann rose, and drew a pistol from his pocket. - -"Hag!" he exclaimed, "I will make you speak." - -At the sight of the pistol the Countess for the second time showed -agitation. Her head shook violently she stretched out her hands as if -to put the weapon aside. Then suddenly she fell back motionless. - -"Come, don't be childish!" said Hermann. "I adjure you for the last -time; will you name the three cards?" - -The Countess did not answer. Hermann saw that she was dead! - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -Lisaveta was sitting in her room, still in her ball dress, lost in -the deepest meditation. On her return to the house, she had sent away -her maid, and had gone upstairs to her room, trembling at the idea of -finding Hermann there; desiring, indeed, _not_ to find him. One glance -showed her that he was not there, and she gave thanks to Providence -that he had missed the appointment. She sat down pensively, without -thinking of taking off her cloak, and allowed to pass through her -memory all the circumstances of the intrigue which had begun such a -short time back, and had already advanced so far. Scarcely three weeks -had passed since she had first seen the young officer from her window, -and already she had written to him, and he had succeeded in inducing -her to make an appointment. She knew his name, and that was all. She -had received a quantity of letters from him, but he had never spoken to -her; she did not know the sound of his voice, and until that evening, -strangely enough, she had never heard him spoken of. - -[Illustration: "ONE GLANCE SHOWED HER THAT HE WAS NOT THERE."] - -But that very evening Tomski, fancying he had noticed that the young -Princess Pauline, to whom he had been paying assiduous court, was -flirting, contrary to her custom, with, another man, had wished to -revenge himself by making a show of indifference. With this noble -object he had invited Lisaveta to take part in an interminable mazurka; -but he teased her immensely about her partiality for Engineer officers, -and pretending all the time to know much more than he really did, -hazarded purely in fun a few guesses which were so happy that Lisaveta -thought her secret must have been discovered. - -"But who tells you all this?" she said with a smile. "A friend of the -very officer you know, a most original man." - -"And who is this man that is so original?" - -"His name is Hermann." - -She answered nothing, but her hands and feet seemed to be of ice. - -"Hermann is a hero of romance," continued Tomski. "He has the profile -of Napoleon, and the soul of Mephistopheles. I believe he has at least -three crimes on his conscience.... But how pale you are!" - -"I have a bad headache. But what did this Mr. Hermann tell you? Is not -that his name?" - -"Hermann is very much displeased with his friend, with the Engineer -officer who has made your acquaintance. He says that in his place he -would behave very differently. But I am quite sure that Hermann himself -has designs upon you. At least, he seems to listen with remarkable -interest to all that his friend tells him about you." - -"And where has he seen me?" - -"Perhaps in church, perhaps in the street; heaven knows where." - -At this moment three ladies came forward according to the custom of -the mazurka, and asked Tomski to choose between "forgetfulness and -regret."[1] - -[1] The figures and fashions of the mazurka are reproduced in -the cotillon of Western Europe.--TRANSLATOR.] - -And the conversation which had so painfully excited the curiosity of -Lisaveta came to an end. - -The lady who, in virtue of the infidelities permitted by the mazurka, -had just been chosen by Tom ski, was the Princess Pauline. During the -rapid evolutions which the figure obliged them to make, there was a -grand explanation between them, until at last he conducted her to a -chair, and returned to his partner. - -But Tomski could now think no more, either of Hermann or Lisaveta, and -he tried in vain to resume the conversation. But the mazurka was coming -to an end, and immediately afterwards the old Countess rose to go. - -Tomski's mysterious phrases were nothing more than the usual platitudes -of the mazurka, but they had made a deep impression upon the heart of -the poor little companion. The portrait sketched by Tomski had struck -her as very exact; and with her romantic ideas, she saw in the rather -ordinary countenance of her adorer something to fear and admire. She -was now sitting down with her cloak off, with bare shoulders; her head, -crowned with flowers, falling forward from fatigue, when suddenly the -door opened and Hermann entered. She shuddered. - -"Where were you?" she said, trembling all over. - -"In the Countess's bedroom. I have just left her," replied Hermann. -"She is dead." - -"Great Heavens! What are you saying?" - -"I am afraid," he said, "that I am the cause of her death." - -Lisaveta looked at him in consternation, and remembered Tomski's words: -"He has at least three crimes on his conscience." - -Hermann sat down by the window, and told everything. The young girl -listened with terror. - -So those letters so full of passion, those burning expressions, this -daring obstinate pursuit--all this had been inspired by anything but -love! Money alone had inflamed the man's soul. She, who had nothing -but a heart to offer, how could she make him happy? Poor child! she -had been the blind instrument of a robber, of the murderer of her old -benefactress. She wept bitterly in the agony of her repentance. Hermann -watched her in silence; but neither the tears of the unhappy girl, nor -her beauty, rendered more touching by her grief, could move his heart -of iron. He had no remorse in thinking of the Countess's death. One -sole thought distressed him--the irreparable loss of the secret which -was to have made his fortune. - -"You are a monster!" said Lisaveta, after a long silence. - -"I did not mean to kill her," replied Hermann coldly. "My pistol was -not loaded." - -They remained for some time without speaking, without looking at one -another. The day was breaking, and Lisaveta put out her candle. She -wiped her eyes, drowned in tears, and raised them towards Hermann. He -was standing close to the window, his arms crossed, with a frown on -his forehead. In this attitude he reminded her involuntarily of the -portrait of Napoleon. The resemblance overwhelmed her. - -"How am I to get you away?" she said at last. "I thought you might go -out by the back stairs. But it would be necessary to go through the -Countess's bedroom, and I am too frightened." - -"Tell me how to get to the staircase, and I will go alone." - -She went to a drawer, took out a key, which she handed to Hermann, and -gave him the necessary instructions. Hermann took her icy hand, kissed -her on the forehead, and departed. - -He went down the staircase, and entered the Countess's bedroom. She was -seated quite stiff in her armchair; but her features were in no way -contracted. He stopped for a moment, and gazed into her face as if to -make sure of the terrible reality. Then he entered the dark room, and, -feeling behind the tapestry, found the little door which, opened on -to a staircase. As he went down it, strange ideas came into his head. -"Going down this staircase," he said to himself, "some sixty years ago, -at about this time, may have been seen some man in an embroidered coat -with powdered wig, pressing to his breast a cocked hat: some gallant -who has long been buried; and now the heart of his aged mistress has -ceased to beat." - -At the end of the staircase he found another door, which his key -opened, and he found himself in the corridor which led to the street. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Three days after this fatal night, at nine o'clock in the morning, -Hermann entered the convent where the last respects were to be paid -to the mortal remains of the old Countess. He felt no remorse, though -he could not deny to himself that he was the poor woman's assassin. -Having no religion, he was, as usual in such cases, very superstitious; -believing that the dead Countess might exercise a malignant influence -on his life, he thought to appease her spirit by attending her funeral. - -The church was full of people, and it was difficult to get in. The -body had been placed on a rich catafalque, beneath a canopy of velvet. -The Countess was reposing in an open coffin, her hands joined on her -breast, with a dress of white satin, and head-dress of lace. Around -the catafalque the family was assembled, the servants in black caftans -with a knot of ribbons on the shoulder, exhibiting the colours of -the Countesses coat of arms. Each of them held a wax candle in his -hand. The relations, in deep mourning--children grandchildren, and -great-grandchildren--were all present; but none of them wept. - -To have shed tears would have looked like affectation. The Countess was -so old that her death could have taken no one by surprise, and she had -long been looked upon as already out of the world. The funeral sermon -was delivered by a celebrated preacher. In a few simple, touching -phrases he painted the final departure of the just, who had passed -long years of contrite preparation, for a Christian end. The service -concluded in the midst of respectful silence. Then the relations went -towards the defunct to take a last farewell After them, in a long -procession, all who had been, invited to the ceremony bowed, for the -last time, to her who for so many years had been a scarecrow at their -entertainments. Finally came the Countess's household; among them was -remarked an old governess, of the same age as the deceased, supported -by two woman. She had not strength enough to kneel down, but tears -flowed from her eyes, as she kissed the hand of her old mistress. - -In his turn Hermann advanced towards the coffin. He knelt down for a -moment on the flagstones, which were strewed with branches of yew. Then -he rose, as pale as death, and walked up the steps of the catafalque. -He bowed his head. But suddenly the dead woman seemed to be staring at -him; and with a mocking look she opened and shut one eye. Hermann by -a sudden movement started and fell backwards. Several persons hurried -towards him. At the same moment, close to the church door, Lisaveta -fainted. - -Throughout the day Hermann suffered from a strange indisposition. In a -quiet restaurant, where he took his meals, he, contrary to his habit, -drank a great deal of wine, with the object of stupefying himself. But -the wine had no effect but to excite his imagination, and give fresh -activity to the ideas with which he was preoccupied. - -He went home earlier than usual, lay down with his clothes on upon -the bed, and fell into a leaden sleep. When he woke up it was night, -and the room was lighted up by the rays of the moon. He looked at his -watch; it was a quarter to three. He could sleep no more. He sat up on -the bed and thought of the old Countess. At this moment someone in -the street passed the window, looked into the room, and then went on. -Hermann scarcely noticed it; but in another minute he heard the door of -the ante-chamber open. He thought, that his orderly, drunk as usual, -was returning from some nocturnal excursion; but the step was one to -which he was not accustomed. Somebody seemed to be softly walking over -the floor in slippers. - -[Illustration: "HERMANN STARTED AND FELL BACKWARDS."] - -The door opened, and a woman, dressed entirely in white, entered the -bedroom. Hermann thought it must be his old nurse, and he asked himself -what she could want at that time of night. - -But the woman in white, crossing the room with a rapid step, was now at -the foot of his bed, and Hermann recognised the Countess. - -"I come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice. "I am forced -to grant your prayer. Three, seven, ace, will win, if played one after -the other; but you must not play more than one card in twenty-four -hours, and afterwards, as long as you live, you must never touch a -card again. I forgive you my death on condition of your marrying my -companion, Lisaveta Ivanovna." - -With these words she walked towards the door, and gliding with her -slippers over the floor, disappeared. Hermann heard the door of the -ante-chamber open, and soon afterwards saw a white figure pass along -the street. It stopped for a moment before his window, as if to look -at him. - -Hermann remained, for some time astounded. Then he got up and went into -the next room. His orderly, drunk as usual, was asleep on the floor. He -had much difficulty in waking him, and then could not obtain from him -the least explanation. The door of the ante-chamber was locked. - -Hermann went back to his bedroom, and wrote down all the details of his -vision. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world, than in -the physical two bodies can occupy the same place at the same time; and -"Three, seven, ace" soon drove away Hermann's recollection of the old -Countess's last moments. "Three, seven, ace" were now in his head to -the exclusion of everything else. - -They followed him in his dreams, and appeared to him under strange -forms. Threes seemed to be spread before him like magnolias, sevens -took the form of Gothic doors, and aces became gigantic spiders. - -His thoughts concentrated themselves on one single point. How was he -to profit by the secret so dearly purchased? What if he applied for -leave to travel? At Paris, he said to himself, he would find some -gambling-house where, with his three cards, he could at once make his -fortune. - -Chance soon came to his assistance. There was at Moscow a society of -rich gamblers, presided over by the celebrated Tchekalinski, who had -passed all his life playing at cards, and had amassed millions. For -while he lost silver only, he gained bank-notes. His magnificent house, -his excellent kitchen, his cordial manners, had brought him numerous -friends and secured for him general esteem. - -When he came to St. Petersburg, the young men of the capital filled -his rooms, forsaking balls for his card-parties, and preferring the -emotions of gambling to the fascinations of flirting. Hermann was taken -to Tchekalinski by Narumoff. They passed through a long suite of rooms, -full of the most attentive, obsequious servants. The place was crowded. -Generals and high officials were playing at whist; young men were -stretched out on the sofas, eating ices and smoking long pipes. In the -principal room at the head of a long table, around which were assembled -a score of players, the master of the house held a faro bank. - -He was a man of about sixty, with a sweet and noble expression of -face, and hair white as snow. On his full, florid countenance might -be read good humour and benevolence. His eyes shone with a perpetual -smile. Narumoff introduced Hermann. Tchekalinski took him by the hand, -told him that he was glad to see him, that no one stood on ceremony -in his house; and then went on dealing. The deal occupied some time, -and stakes were made on more than thirty cards. Tchekalinski waited -patiently to allow the winners time to double their stakes, paid what -he had lost, listened politely to all observations, and, more politely -still, put straight the corners of cards, when in a fit of absence some -one had taken the liberty of turning them down. At last when the game -was at an end, Tchekalinski collected the cards, shuffled them again, -had them cut, and then dealt anew. - -"Will you allow me to take a card?" said Hermann, stretching out his -arm above a fat man who occupied nearly the whole of one side of the -table. Tchekalinski, with a gracious smile, bowed in consent. Naroumoff -complimented Hermann, with a laugh, on the cessation of the austerity -by which his conduct had hitherto been marked, and wished him all kinds -of happiness on the occasion of his first appearance in the character -of a gambler. - -"There!" said Hermann, after writing some figures on the back of his -card. - -"How much?" asked the banker, half closing his eyes. "Excuse me, I -cannot see." - -"Forty-seven thousand rubles," said Hermann. - -Everyone's eyes were directed toward the new player. - -"He has lost his head," thought Harumoff. - -"Allow me to point out to you," said Tchekalinski, with his eternal -smile, "that you are playing rather high. We never put down here, as a -first stake, more than a hundred and seventy-five rubles." - -"Very well," said Hermann; "but do you accept my stake or not?" - -Tchekalinski bowed in token of acceptation. "I only wish to point out -to you," he said, "that although I am perfectly sure of my friends, -I can only play against ready money. I am quite convinced that your -word is as good as gold; but to keep up the rules of the game, and to -facilitate calculations, I should be obliged to you if you would put -the money on your card." - -Hermann took a bank-note from his pocket and handed it to Tchekalinski, -who, after examining it with a glance, placed it on Hermann's card. - -Then he began to deal. He turned up on the right a ten, and on the left -a three. - -"I win," said Hermann, exhibiting his three. - -A murmur of astonishment ran through the assembly. The banker knitted -his eyebrows, but speedily his face resumed its everlasting smile. - -"Shall I settle at once?" he asked. - -"If you will be kind enough to do so," said Hermann. - -Tchekalinski took a bundle of bank-notes from his pocket-book, and -paid. Hermann pocketed His winnings and left the table. - -Narumoff was lost in astonishment. Hermann drank a glass of lemonade -and went home. - -The next evening he returned to the house. Tchekalinski again held the -bank. Hermann went to the table, and this time the players hastened to -make room for him. Tchekalinski received him with a most gracious bow. -Hermann waited, took a card, and staked on it his forty-seven thousand -roubles, together with the like sum which he had gained the evening -before. - -Tchekalinski began to deal. He turned up on the right a knave, and on -the left a seven. - -Hermann exhibited a seven. - -There was a general exclamation. Tchekalinski was evidently ill at -ease, but he counted out the ninety-four thousand roubles to Hermann, -who took them in the calmest manner, rose from, the table, and went -away. - -[Illustration: "HE SAW BEFORE HIM A QUEEN OF SPADES."] - -The next evening, at the accustomed hour, he again appeared. Everyone -was expecting him. Generals and high officials had left their whist to -watch this extraordinary play. The young officers had quitted their -sofas, and even the servants of the house pressed round the table. - -When Hermann took his seat, the other players ceased to stake, so -impatient were they to see him have it out with the banker, who, still -smiling, watched the approach of his antagonist and prepared to meet -him. Each of them untied at the same time a pack of cards. Tchekalinski -shuffled, and Hermann cut. Then the latter took up a card and covered -it with a heap of banknotes. It was like the preliminaries of a duel. A -deep silence reigned through the room. - -Tchekalinski took up the cards with trembling hands and dealt. On one -side he put down a queen and on the other side an ace. - -"Ace wins," said Hermann. - -"No. Queen loses," said Tchekalinski. - -Hermann looked. Instead of ace, he saw a queen of spades before him. He -could not trust his eyes! And now as he gazed, in fascination, on the -fatal card, he fancied that he saw the queen of spades open and then -close her eye, while at the same time she gave a mocking smile. He felt -a thrill of nameless horror. The queen of spades resembled the dead -Countess! - -Hermann is now at the Obukhoff Asylum, room No. 17 a hopeless madman! -He answers no questions which we put to him. Only he mumbles to himself -without cessation, "Three, seven, ace; three, seven, _queen_!" - - - - -THE PISTOL SHOT. - - -CHAPTER I. - - -We were stationed at the little village of Z. The life of an officer -in the army is well known. Drill and the riding school in the morning; -dinner with the colonel or at the Jewish restaurant; and in the evening -punch and cards. - -At Z. nobody kept open house, and there was no girl that anyone could -think of marrying. We used to meet at each other's rooms, where we -never saw anything but one another's uniforms. There was only one man -among us who did not belong to the regiment. He was about thirty-five, -and, of course, we looked upon him as an old fellow. He had the -advantage of experience, and his habitual gloom, stern features, and -his sharp tongue gave him great influence over his juniors. He was -surrounded by a certain mystery. His looks were Russian, but his name -was foreign. He had served in the Hussars, and with credit. No one -knew what had induced him to retire and settle in this out of the way -little village, where he lived in mingled poverty and extravagance. He -always went on foot, and wore a shabby black coat. But he was always -ready to receive any of our officers; and though his dinners, cooked by -a retired soldier, never consisted of more than two or three dishes, -champagne flowed at them like water. His income, or how he got it, no -one knew, and no one ventured to ask. He had a few books on military -subjects and a few novels, which he willingly lent and never asked to -have returned. But, on the other hand, he never returned the books he -himself borrowed. - -His principal recreation was pistol-shooting. The walls of his room -were riddled with bullets-a perfect honeycomb. A rich collection of -pistols was the only thing luxurious in his modestly furnished villa. -His skill as a shot was quite prodigious. If he had undertaken to -shoot a pear off some one's cap not a man in our regiment would have -hesitated to act as target. Our conversation often turned on duelling; -Silvio, so I will call him, never joined in it. When asked if he had -ever fought, he answered curtly, "Yes." But he gave no particulars, and -it was evident that he disliked such questions. We concluded that the -memory of some unhappy victim of his terrible skill preyed heavily upon -his conscience. None of us could ever have suspected him of cowardice. -There are men whose look alone is enough to repel such a suspicion. - -An unexpected incident fairly astonished us. One afternoon about ten -officers were dining with Silvio. They drank as usual, that is to say, -a great deal. After dinner we asked our host to make a pool. For a long -time he refused on the ground that he seldom played. At last he ordered -cards to be brought in. With half a hundred gold pieces on the table we -sat round him, and the game began. It was Silvio's habit not to speak -when playing. He never disputed or explained. If an adversary made a -mistake Silvio without a word chalked it down against him. Knowing his -way we always let him have it. - -But among us on this occasion was an officer who had but lately joined. -While playing he absent-mindedly scored a point too much. Silvio took -the chalk and corrected the score in his own fashion. The officer, -supposing him to have made a mistake, began to explain. Silvio went -on dealing in silence. The officer, losing patience, took the brush -and rubbed out what he thought was wrong. Silvio took the chalk and -recorrected it. The officer, heated with wine and play, and irritated -by the laughter of the company, thought himself aggrieved, and, in a -fit of passion, seized a brass candlestick and threw it at Silvio, who -only just managed to avoid the missile. Great was our confusion. Silvio -got up, white with rage, and said, with sparkling eyes-- - -"Sir! have the goodness to withdraw, and you may thank God that this -has happened in my own house." - -We could have no doubt as to the consequences, and we already looked -upon our new comrade as a dead man. He withdrew saying that he was -ready to give satisfaction for his offence in any way desired. - -The game went on for a few minutes; but feeling that our host was upset -we gradually left off playing and dispersed, each to his own quarters. -At the riding school next day we were already asking one another -whether the young lieutenant was still alive, when he appeared among -us. We asked him the same question, and were told that he had not yet -heard from Silvio. We were astonished. We went to Silvio's and found -him in the court-yard popping bullet after bullet into an ace which he -had gummed to the gate. He received us as usual, but made no allusion -to what had happened on the previous evening. - -Three days passed and the lieutenant was still alive. "Can it be -possible," we asked one another in astonishment, "that Silvio will not -fight?" - -Silvio did not fight. He accepted a flimsy apology, and became -reconciled to the man who had insulted him. This lowered him greatly -in the opinion of the young men, who, placing bravery above all the -other human virtues and regarding it as an excuse for every imaginable -vice, were ready to overlook anything sooner than a lack of courage. -However, little by little, all was forgotten, and Silvio regained his -former influence. I alone could not renew my friendship with him. -Being naturally romantic I had surpassed the rest in my attachment -to the man whose life was an enigma, and who seemed to me a hero of -some mysterious story. He liked me, and with me alone did he drop his -sarcastic tone and converse simply and most agreeably on many subjects. -But after this unlucky evening the thought that his honour was -tarnished, and that it remained so by his own choice, never left me; -and this prevented any renewal of our former intimacy. I was ashamed to -look at him. Silvio was too sharp and experienced not to notice this -and guess the reason. It seemed to vex him, for I observed that once or -twice he hinted at an explanation; but I wanted none, and Silvio gave -me up. Thenceforth I only met him in the presence of other friends, and -our confidential talks were at an end. - -The busy occupants of the capital have no idea of the emotions so -frequently experienced by residents in the country and in country -towns; as, for instance, in awaiting the arrival of the post. On -Tuesdays and Fridays the bureau of the regimental staff was crammed -with officers. Some were expecting money, others letters or newspapers. -The letters were mostly opened on the spot, and the news freely -interchanged, the office meanwhile presenting a most lively appearance. - -Silvio's letters used to be addressed to our regiment, and he usually -called for them himself. On one occasion, a letter having been handed -to him, I saw him break the seal and, with a look of great impatience, -read the contents. His eyes sparkled. The other officers, each engaged -with his own letters, did not notice anything. - -"Gentlemen," said Silvio, "circumstances demand my immediate departure. -I leave tonight, and I hope you will not refuse to dine with me for the -last time. I shall expect you, too," he added, "turning towards me, -without fail." With these words he hurriedly left, and we agreed to -meet at Silvio's. - -I went to Silvio's at the appointed time and found nearly the whole -regiment with him. His things were already packed. Nothing remained -but the bare shot-marked walls. We sat down to table. The host was in -excellent spirits, and his liveliness communicated itself to the rest -of the company. Corks popped every moment. Bottles fizzed and tumblers -foamed incessantly, and we, with much warmth, wished our departing -friend a pleasant journey and every happiness. The evening was far -advanced when we rose from table. During the search for hats, Silvio -wished everybody goodbye. Then, taking me by the hand, as I was on the -point of leaving, he said in a low voice: - -"I want to speak to you." - -I stopped behind. - -The guests had gone and we were left alone. - -Sitting down opposite one another we lighted our pipes. Silvio was much -agitated, no traces of his former gaiety remained. Deadly pale, with -sparkling eyes, and a thick smoke issuing from his mouth, he looked -like a demon. Several minutes passed before he broke silence. - -"Perhaps we shall never meet again," he said. "Before saying goodbye I -want to have a few words with you. You may have remarked that I care -little for the opinion of others. But I like you, and should be sorry -to leave you under a wrong impression." - -He paused, and began refilling his pipe. I looked down and was silent. - -"You thought it odd," he continued, "that I did not require -satisfaction from that drunken maniac. You will grant, however, that -being entitled to the choice of weapons I had his life more or less in -my hands. I might attribute my tolerance to generosity, but I will not -deceive you; if I could have chastised him without the least risk to -myself, without the slightest danger to my own life, then I would on no -account have forgiven him." - -[Illustration: "HERE IS A MEMENTO OF OUR DUEL."] - -I looked at Silvio with surprise. Such a confession completely upset -me. Silvio continued: - -"Precisely so, I had no right to endanger my life. Six years ago I -received a slap in the face and my enemy still lives." - -My curiosity was greatly excited. - -"Did you not fight him?" I inquired. "Circumstances probably separated -you?" - -"I did fight him," replied Silvio, "and here is a memento of our duel." - -He rose and took from a cardboard box a red cap with a gold tassel and -gold braid. - -"My disposition is well known to you. I have been accustomed to be -first in everything. Prom my youth this has been my passion. In my -time dissipation was the fashion, and I was the most dissipated man -in the army. We used to boast of our drunkenness. I beat at drinking -the celebrated Burtsoff, of whom Davidoff has sung in his poems. Duels -in our regiment were of daily occurrence. I took part in all of them, -either as second or as principal. My comrades adored me, while the -commanders of the regiment, who were constantly being changed, looked -upon me as an incurable evil. - -"I was calmly, or rather boisterously, enjoying my reputation when -a certain young man joined our regiment. He was rich, and came of -a distinguished family--I will not name him. Never in my life did -I meet with so brilliant, so fortunate a fellow!--young, clever, -handsome, with the wildest spirits, the most reckless bravery, bearing -a celebrated name, possessing funds of which he did not know the -amount, but which were inexhaustible. You may imagine the effect he -was sure to produce among us. My leadership was shaken. Dazzled by -my reputation he began by seeking my friendship. But I received him -coldly; at which, without the least sign of regret, he kept aloof from -me. - -[Illustration: "WE CLUTCHED OUR SWORDS."] - -"I took a dislike to him. His success in the regiment and in the -society of women brought me to despair. I tried to pick a quarrel with -him. To my epigrams he replied with epigrams which always seemed to me -more pointed and more piercing than my own, and which were certainly -much livelier; for while he joked I was raving. - -"Finally, at a ball at the house of a Polish landed proprietor, seeing -him receive marked attention from all the ladies, and especially from -the lady of the house, who had formerly been on very friendly terms -with me, I whispered some low insult in his ear. He flew into a passion -and gave me a slap on the cheek. We clutched our swords, the ladies -fainted, we were separated, and the same night we drove out to fight. - -"It was nearly daybreak. I was standing at the appointed spot with my -three seconds. How impatiently I awaited my opponent! The spring sun -had risen and it was growing hot. At last I saw him in the distance. He -was on foot, accompanied by only one second. We advanced to meet him. -He approached, holding in his hand his regimental cap filled full of -black cherries. - -"The seconds measured twelve paces. It was for me to fire first. But -my excitement was so great that I could not depend upon the certainty -of my hand, and, in order to give myself time to get calm, I ceded the -first shot to my adversary. He would not accept it, and we decided to -cast lots. - -"The number fell to him; constant favourite of fortune that he was! He -aimed and put a bullet through my cap. - -"It was now my turn. His life at last was in my hands. I looked at him -eagerly, trying to detect if only some faint shadow of uneasiness. But -he stood beneath my pistol picking out ripe cherries from his cap and -spitting out the stones, some of which fell near me. His indifference -enraged me. 'What is the use,' thought I, 'of depriving him of life, -when he sets no value upon it.' As this savage thought flitted through -my brain I lowered the pistol. - -"'You don't seem to be ready for death,' I said, 'you are eating your -breakfast, and I don't want to interfere with you.' - -"'You don't interfere with me in the least,' he replied. 'Be good -enough to fire; or don't fire if you prefer it; the shot remains with -you, and I shall be at your service at any moment.' - -"I turned to the seconds, informing them that I had no intention of -firing that day, and with this the duel ended. I resigned my commission -and retired to this little place. Since then not a single day has -passed that I have not thought of my revenge; and now the hour has -arrived." - -[Illustration: "HIS LIFE AT LAST WAS IN MY HANDS."] - -Silvio took from his pocket the letter he had received that morning, -and handed it to me to read. Someone (it seemed to be his business -agent) wrote to him from Moscow, that a certain individual was soon to -be married to a young and beautiful girl. - -"You guess," said Silvio, "who the certain individual is. I am starting -for Moscow. Me shall see whether he will be as indifferent now as he -was some time ago, when in presence of death he ate cherries!" - -With these words Silvio rose, threw his cap upon the floor, and began -pacing up and down the room like a tiger in his cage. I remained -silent. Strange contending feelings agitated me. - -The servant entered and announced that the horses were ready. Silvio -grasped my hand tightly. He got into the _telega_, in which lay two -trunks--one containing his pistols, the other some personal effects. We -wished good-bye a second time, and the horses galloped off. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Many years passed, and family circumstances obliged me to settle in the -poor little village of H. Engaged in farming, I sighed in secret for my -former merry, careless existence. Most difficult of all I found it to -pass in solitude the spring and winter evenings. Until the dinner hour -I somehow occupied the time, talking to the _starosta_, driving round -to see how the work went on, or visiting the new buildings. But as soon -as evening began to draw in, I was at a loss what to do with myself. My -books in various bookcases, cupboards, and storerooms I knew by heart. -The housekeeper, Kurilovna, related to me all the stories she could -remember. The songs of the peasant women made me melancholy. I tried -cherry brandy, but that gave me the headache. I must confess, however, -that I had some fear of becoming a drunkard from _ennui_, the saddest -kind of drunkenness imaginable, of which I had seen many examples in -our district. - -I had no near neighbours with the exception of two or three melancholy -ones, whose conversation consisted mostly of hiccups and sighs. -Solitude was preferable to that. Finally I decided to go to bed as -early as possible, and to dine as late as possible, thus shortening the -evening and lengthening the day; and I found this plan a good one. - -Pour versts from my place was a large estate belonging to Count B.; -but the steward alone lived there. The Countess had visited her domain -once only, just after her marriage, and she then only lived there about -a month. However, in the second spring of my retirement, there was a -report that the Countess, with her husband, would come to spend the -summer on her estate; and they arrived at the beginning of June. - -The advent of a rich neighbour is an important event for residents in -the country. The landowners and the people of their household talk of -it for a couple of months beforehand, and for three years afterwards. -As far as I was concerned, I must confess, the expected arrival of -a young and beautiful neighbour affected me strongly. I burned with -impatience to see her; and the first Sunday after her arrival I started -for the village, in order to present myself to the Count and Countess -as their near neighbour and humble servant. - -The footman showed me into the Count's study, while he went to -inform him of my arrival. The spacious room was furnished in a most -luxurious manner. Against the walls stood enclosed bookshelves well -furnished with books, and surmounted by bronze busts. Over the marble -mantelpiece was a large mirror. The floor was covered with green -cloth, over which were spread rugs and carpets. - -Having got unaccustomed to luxury in my own poor little corner, and not -having beheld the wealth of other people for a long while, I was awed; -and I awaited the Count with a sort of fear, just as a petitioner from -the provinces awaits in an ante-room the arrival of the minister. The -doors opened, and a man about thirty-two, and very handsome, entered -the apartment. The Count approached me with a frank and friendly look. -I tried to be self-possessed, and began to introduce myself, but he -forestalled me. - -We sat down. His easy and agreeable, conversation soon dissipated my -nervous timidity. I was already passing into my usual manner, when -suddenly the Countess entered, and I became more confused than ever. -She was, indeed, beautiful. The Count presented me. I was anxious to -appear at ease, but the more I tried to assume an air of unrestraint, -the more awkward I felt myself becoming. They, in order to give me time -to recover myself and get accustomed to my new acquaintances, conversed -with one another, treating me in good neighbourly fashion without -ceremony. Meanwhile, I walked about the room, examining the books and -pictures. In pictures I am no _connoisseur_; but one of the Count's -attracted my particular notice. It represented a view in Switzerland -was not, however, struck by the painting, but by the fact that it was -shot through by two bullets, one planted just on the top of the other. - -"A good shot," I remarked, turning to the Count. - -"Yes," he replied, "a very remarkable shot." - -"Do you shoot well?" he added. - -"Tolerably," I answered, rejoicing that the conversation had turned -at last on a subject which interested me.' "At a distance of thirty -paces I do not miss a card; I mean, of course, with a pistol that I am -accustomed to." - -"Really?" said the Countess, with a look of great interest. "'And you, -my dear, could you hit a card at thirty paces?" - -"Some day," replied the Count, "we will try. In my own time I did not -shoot badly. But it is four years now since I held a pistol in my hand." - -"Oh," I replied, "in that case, I bet, Count, that you will not hit a -card even at twenty paces. The pistol demands daily practice. I know -that from experience. In our regiment I was reckoned one of the bests -shots. Once I happened not to take a pistol in hand for a whole month; -I had sent my own to the gunsmith's. Well, what do you think, Count? -The first time I began again to shoot I four times running missed -a bottle at twenty paces. The captain of our company, who was a wit, -happened to be present, and he said to me: 'Your hand, my friend, -refuses to raise itself against the bottle! No, Count, you must not -neglect to practise, or you will soon lose all skill. The best shot I -ever knew used to shoot every day, and at least three times every day, -before dinner. This was as much his habit as the preliminary glass of -vodka." - -[Illustration: "SILVIO! _YOU_ KNEW SILVIO?"] - -The Count and Countess seemed pleased that I had begun to talk. - -"And what sort of a shot was he?" asked the Count. - -"This sort, Count. If he saw a fly settle on the wall--you smile, -Countess, but I assure you it is a fact. When he saw the fly, he would -call out, 'Kuska, my pistol!' Kuska brought him the loaded pistol. A -crack, and the fly was crushed into the wall!" - -"That is astonishing!" said the Count. "And what was his name?" - -"Silvio was his name." - -"Silvio!" exclaimed the Count, starting from his seat. "_You_ knew -Silvio?" - -"How could I fail to know him? We were comrades; he was received at our -mess like a brother officer. It is now about five years since I last -had tidings of him. Then you, Count, also knew him?" - -"I knew him very well. Did he never tell you of one very extraordinary -incident in his life?" - -"Do you mean the slap in the face, Count, that he received from -a blackguard at a ball?" "He did not tell you the name of this -blackguard?" - -"No, Count, he did not. Forgive me," I added, guessing the truth, -"forgive me--I did not--could it really have been you?" - -"It was myself," replied the Count, greatly agitated. "And the shots in -the picture are a memento of our last meeting." - -"Oh, my dear," said the Countess, "for God's sake do not relate it! It -frightens me to think of it." - -"No," replied the Count; "I must tell him all. He knows how I insulted -his friend. He shall also know how Silvio revenged himself." - -The Count pushed a chair towards me, and with the liveliest interest I -listened to the following story:-- - -"Five years ago," began the Count, "I got married. The honeymoon I -spent here, in this village. To this house I am indebted for the -happiest moments of my life, and for one of its saddest remembrances. - -"One afternoon we went out riding together. My wife's horse became -restive. She was frightened, got off the horse, handed the reins over -to me; and walked home. I rode on before her. In the yard I saw a -travelling carriage, and I was told that in my study sat a man who -would not give his name, but simply said that he wanted to see me on -business. I entered the study, and saw in the darkness a man, dusty and -unshaven. He stood there, by the fireplace. I approached him, trying to -recollect his face. - -"'You don't remember me, Count?' he said, in a tremulous voice. - -"'Silvio!' I cried, and I confess I felt that my hair was standing on -end. - -"'Exactly so,' he added. 'You owe me a shot; I have come to claim it. -Are you ready?' - -"A pistol protruded from his side pocket. - -"I measured twelve paces, and stood there in that corner, begging him -to fire quickly, before my wife came in. - -"He hesitated, and asked for a light. Candles were brought in. I locked -the doors, gave orders that no one should enter, and again called upon -him to fire. He took out his pistol and aimed. - -"I counted the seconds.... I thought of her ... A terrible moment -passed! Then Silvio lowered his hand. - -"'I only regret,' he said, that the pistol is not loaded with -cherry-stones. My bullet is heavy; and it always seems to me that an -affair of this kind is net a duel, but a murder. I am not accustomed -to aim at unarmed men. Let us begin again from the beginning. Let us -cast lots as to who shall fire first.' - -"My head went round. I think I objected. Finally, however, we loaded -another pistol and rolled up two pieces of paper. These he placed -inside his cap; the one through which, at our first meeting, I had put -the bullet. I again drew the lucky number. - -"'Count, you have the devil's luck,' he said, with a smile which I -shall never forget. - -"I don't know what I was about, or how it happened that he succeeded in -inducing me. But I fired and hit that picture." - -The Count pointed with his finger to the picture with the shot-marks -His face had become red with agitation. The Countess was whiter than -her own handkerchief; and I could not restrain an exclamation. - -"I fired," continued the Count, "and, thank Heaven, missed. Then -Silvio--at this moment he was really terrible--then Silvio raised his -pistol to take aim at me. - -"Suddenly the door flew open, Masha rushed into the room. She threw -herself upon my neck with a loud shriek. Her presence restored to -me-all my courage. - -"'My dear,' I said to her, 'don't you see that we are only joking? How -frightened you look! Go and drink a glass of water and then come back; -I will introduce you to an old friend and comrade.' - -Masha was still in doubt. - -[Illustration: "MASHA THREW HERSELF AT HIS FEET"] - -"'Tell me; is my husband speaking the truth?' she asked, turning to the -terrible Silvio. 'Is it true that you are only joking?' - -"'He is always joking. Countess,' Silvio replied. 'He once in a joke -gave me a slap in the face; in joke he put a bullet through this cap -while I was wearing it; and in joke, too, he missed me when he fired -just now. And now _I_ have a fancy for a joke.' - -"With these words he raised his pistol as if to shoot me down before -her eyes." - -Masha threw herself at his feet. - -'Rise, Masha! For shame!' I cried, in my passion. 'And you, sir, cease -to amuse yourself at the expense of an unhappy woman. Will you fire or -not?' - -"'I will not,' replied Silvio. 'I am satisfied. I have witnessed your -agitation--your terror. I forced you to fire at me. That is enough; you -will remember me. I leave you to your conscience.' - -"He was now about to go; but he stopped at the door, looked round -at the picture which my shot had passed through, fired at it almost -without taking aim, and disappeared. - -"My wife had sunk down fainting. The servants had not ventured to stop -Silvio, whom they looked upon with terror. He passed out to the steps, -called his coachman, and before I could collect myself drove off." - -The Count was silent. I had now heard the end of the story of which -the beginning had long before surprised me. The hero of it I never saw -again. I heard, however, that Silvio, during the rising of Alexander -Ipsilanti, commanded a detach of insurgents and was killed in action. - - - - -THE SNOWSTORM. - - -Towards the end of 1811, at a memorable period for Russians, lived -on his own domain of Nenaradova the kind-hearted Gravril R. He was -celebrated in the whole district for his hospitality and his genial -character. Neighbours constantly visited him to have something to eat -and drink, and to play at five-copeck boston with his wife, Praskovia. -Some, too, went to have a look at their daughter, Maria; a tall pale -girl of seventeen. She was an heiress, and they desired her either for -themselves or for their sons. - -Maria had been brought up on French novels, and consequently was in -love. The object of her affection was a poor ensign in the army, who -was now at home in his small village on leave of absence. As a matter -of course, the young man reciprocated Maria's passion. But the parents -of his beloved, noticing their mutual attachment, forbade their -daughter even to think of him, while they received him worse than an -ex-assize judge. - -[Illustration: "THE LOVERS MET IN THE PINE WOOD."] - -Our lovers corresponded, and met alone daily in the pine wood or by -the old roadway chapel. There they vowed everlasting love, inveighed -against fate, and exchanged various suggestions. Writing and talking in -this way, they quite naturally reached the following conclusion:-- - -If we cannot exist apart from each other, and if the tyranny of -hard-hearted parents throws obstacles in the way of our happiness, then -can we not manage without them? - -Of course, this happy idea originated in the mind of the young man; but -it pleased the romantic imagination of Maria immensely. - -Winter set in and put a stop to their meetings. But their -correspondence became all the more active. Vladimir begged Maria in -every letter to give herself up to him that they might get married -secretly, hide for a while, and then throw themselves at the feet of -the parents, who would of course in the end be touched by their heroic -constancy and say to them, "Children, come to our arms!" - -Maria hesitated a long while, and out of many different plans proposed, -that of flight was for a time rejected. At last, however, she -consented. On the appointed day she was to decline supper, and retire -to her room under the plea of a headache. She and her maid, who was in -the secret, were then to go out into the garden by the back stairs, -and beyond the garden they would find a sledge ready for them, would -get into it and drive a distance of five miles from Nenaradova, to the -village of Jadrino, straight to the church, where Vladimir would be -waiting for them. - -On the eve of the decisive day, Maria did not sleep all night; she was -packing and tying up linen and dresses. She wrote, moreover, a long -letter to a friend of hers, a sentimental young lady; and another to -her parents. Of the latter, she took leave in the most touching terms. -She excused the step she was taking by reason of the unconquerable -power of love, and wound up by declaring that she should consider it -the happiest moment of her life when she was allowed to throw herself -at the feet of her dearest parents. Sealing both letters with a Toula -seal, on which were engraven two flaming hearts with an appropriate -inscription, she at last threw herself upon her bed before daybreak -and dozed off, though even then she was awake tied from one moment -to another by terrible thoughts. First it seemed to her that at the -moment of entering the sledge in order to go and get married her father -stopped her, and with cruel rapidity dragged her over the snow and -threw her into a dark bottomless cellar, down which she fell headlong -with an indescribable sinking of the heart. Then she saw Vladimir, -lying on the grass, pale and bleeding; with his dying breath he -implored her to make haste and marry him. Other hideous and senseless -visions floated before her one after another. Finally she rose paler -than usual, and with, a real headache. - -[Illustration: "SHE BURST INTO TEARS."] - -Both her father and her mother remarked her indisposition. Their -tender anxiety and constant inquiries, "What is the matter with you, -Masha--are you ill?" cut her to the heart. She tried to pacify them and -to appear cheerful; but she could not. Evening set in. The idea that -she was passing the day for the last time in the midst of her family -oppressed her. In her secret heart she took leave of everybody, of -everything which surrounded her. - -Supper was served; her heart beat violently. In a trembling voice she -declared that she did not want any supper, and wished her father and -mother good-night. They kissed her, and as usual blessed her; and she -nearly wept. - -Reaching her own room she threw herself into an easy chair and burst -into tears. Her maid begged her to be calm and take courage. Everything -was ready. In half-an-hour Masha would leave for ever her parents' -house, her own room, her peaceful life as a young girl. - -Out of doors the snow was falling, the wind howling. The shutters -rattled and shook. In everything she seemed to recognise omens and -threats. - -Soon the whole home was quiet and asleep. Masha wrapped herself in a -shawl, put on a warm cloak, and with a box in her hand passed out on -to the back staircase. The maid carried two bundles after her. They -descended into the garden. The snowstorm raged: a strong wind blew -against them as if trying to stop the young culprit. With difficulty -they reached the end of the garden. In the road a sledge awaited them. - -The horses from cold would not stand still. Vladimir's coachman was -walking to and fro in front of them, trying to quiet them. He helped -the young lady and her maid to their seats, and packing away the -bundles and the dressing-case took up the reins, and the horses flew -forward into the darkness of the night. - - * * * * * - -Having entrusted the young lady to the care of fate and of Tereshka the -coachman, let us return to the young lover. - -Vladimir had spent the whole day in driving. In the morning he had -called on the Jadrino priest, and, with difficulty, came to terms with -him. Then he went to seek for witnesses from amongst the neighbouring -gentry. The first on whom he called was a former cornet of horse, -Dravin by name, a man in his forties, who consented at once. The -adventure, he declared, reminded him of old times and of his larks -when he was in the Hussars. He persuaded Vladimir to stop to dinner -with him, assuring him that there would be no difficulty in getting -the other two witnesses. Indeed, immediately after dinner in came -the surveyor Schmidt, with a moustache and spurs, and the son of a -captain-magistrate, a boy of sixteen, who had recently entered the -Uhlans. They not only accepted Vladimir's proposal, but even swore that -they were ready to sacrifice their lives for him. Vladimir embraced -them with delight, and drove off to get everything ready. - -It had long been dark. Vladimir despatched his trustworthy Tereshka -to Nenaradova with his two-horsed sledge, and with appropriate -instructions for the occasion. For himself he ordered the small sledge -with one horse, and started alone without a coachman for Jadrino, where -Maria ought to arrive in a couple of hours. He knew the road, and the -drive would only occupy twenty minutes. - -But Vladimir had scarcely passed from the enclosure into the open field -when the wind rose, and soon there was a driving snowstorm so heavy and -so severe that he could not see. In a moment the road was covered with -snow. All landmarks disappeared in the murky yellow darkness, through -which fell white flakes of snow. Sky and earth became merged into one. -Vladimir, in the midst of the field, tried in vain to get to the road. -The horse walked on at random, and every moment stepped either into -deep snow or into a rut, so that the sledge was constantly upsetting. -Vladimir tried at least not to lose the right direction; but it seemed -to him that more than half an hour had passed, and he had not yet -reached the Jadrino wood. Another ten minutes passed, and still the -wood was invisible. Vladimir drove across fields intersected by deep -ditches. The snowstorm did not abate, and the sky did not clear. The -horse was getting tired and the perspiration rolled from him like hail, -in spite of the fact that every moment his legs were disappearing in -the snow. - -At last Vladimir found that he was going in the wrong direction. He -stopped; began to reflect, recollect, and consider; till at last he -became convinced that he ought to have turned to the right. He did so -now. His horse could scarcely drag along. But he had been more than -an hour on the road, and Jadrino could not now be far. He drove and -drove, but there was no getting out of the field. Still snow-drifts and -ditches. Every moment the sledge was upset, and every moment Vladimir -had to raise it up. - -Time was slipping by, and Vladimir grew seriously anxious. At last in -the distance some dark object could be seen. - -Vladimir turned in its direction, and as he drew near found it was a -wood. - -"Thank Heaven," he thought, "I am now near the end." - -He drove by the side of the wood, hoping to come at once upon the -familiar road, or, if not, to pass round the wood. Jadrino was situated -immediately behind it. - -He soon found the road, and passed into the darkness of the wood, now -stripped by the winter. The wind could not rage here; the road was -smooth, the horse picked up courage, and Vladimir was comforted. - -He drove and drove, but still Jadrino was not to be seen; there was no -end to the wood. Then to his horror he discovered that he had got into -a strange wood. He was in despair. He whipped his horse, and the poor -animal started off at a trot. But it soon got tired, and in a quarter -of an hour, in spite of all poor Vladimir's efforts, could only crawl. - -Gradually the trees became thinner, and Vladimir drove out of the wood, -but Jadrino was not to be seen. It must have been about midnight. -Tears gushed from the young man's eyes. He drove on at random; and now -the weather abated, the clouds dispersed, and before him was a wide -stretch of plain, covered with a white billowy carpet. The night was -comparatively clear, and he could see a small village a short distance -off, which consisted of four or five cottages. Vladimir drove towards -it. At the first door he jumped out of the sledge, ran up to the -window, and tapped. After a few minutes a wooden, shutter was raised, -and an old man stuck out his grey beard. - -"What do you want?" - -"How far is Jadrino?" - -"How far is Jadrino?" - -"Yes, yes! Is it far?" - -"Not far; about ten miles." - -At this answer Vladimir clutched hold of his hair, and stood -motionless, like a man condemned to death. - -"Where do you come from?" added the man. Vladimir had not the courage -to reply. - -"My man," he said, "can you procure me horses to Jadrino?" - -"We have no horses," answered the peasant. - -"Could I find a guide? I will pay him any sum he likes." - -"Stop!" said the old man, dropping the shutter; "I will send my son out -to you; he will conduct you." - -Vladimir waited. Scarcely a minute had passed when he again knocked. -The shutter was lifted and a beard was seen. - -"What do you want?" - -"What about your son?" - -"He'll come out directly: he is putting on his boots. Are you cold? -Come in and warm yourself." - -"Thanks! Send out your son quickly." - -The gate creaked; a youth came out with a cudgel, and walked on in -front, at one time pointing out the road, at another looking for it in -a mass of drifted snow. - -"What o'clock is it?" Vladimir asked him. - -"It will soon be daylight," replied the young-peasant. Vladimir spoke -not another word. - -The cocks were crowing, and it was light when they reached Jadrino. The -church was closed. Vladimir paid the guide, and drove into the yard of -the priest's house. In the yard his two-horsed sledge was not to be -seen. What news awaited him? - - * * * * * - -But let us return to the kind proprietors of Nenaradova, and see what -is going on there. - -Nothing. - -The old people awoke, and went into the sitting-room, Gavril in a -night-cap and flannel jacket, Praskovia in a wadded dressing-gown. The -samovar was brought in, and, Gavril sent the little maid to ask Maria -how she was and how she had slept. The little maid returned, saying -that her young lady had slept badly, but that she was better now, and -that she would come into the sitting-room in a moment. And indeed the -door opened, and Maria came in and wished her papa and mamma good -morning. - -"How is your head-ache, Masha?" (familiar for Mary) inquired Gavril. - -"Better, papa; answered Masha. - -"The fumes from the stoves must have given you your head-ache," -remarked Praskovia. - -"Perhaps so, mamma," replied Masha. - -The day passed well enough, but in the night Masha was taken ill. A -doctor was sent for from town. He came towards evening and found the -patient delirious. Soon she was in a severe fever, and in a fortnight -the poor patient was on the brink of the grave. - -No member of the family knew anything of the flight from home. The -letters written by Masha the evening before had been burnt; and the -maid, fearing the wrath of the master and mistress, had not breathed -a word. The priest, the ex-cornet, the big moustached surveyor, -and the little lancer were equally discreet, and with good reason. -Tereshka, the coachman, never said too much, not even in his drink. -Thus the secret was kept better than it might have been by half a dozen -conspirators. - -But Maria herself, in the course of her long fever, let out her secret, -nevertheless, her words were so disconnected that her mother, who never -left her bedside, could only make out from them that her daughter -was desperately in love with Vladimir, and that probably love was -the cause of her illness. She consulted her husband and some of her -neighbours, and at last it was decided unanimously that the fate of -Maria ought not to be interfered with, that a woman must not ride away -from the man she is destined to marry, that poverty is no crime, that -a woman has to live not with money but with a man, and so on. Moral -proverbs are wonderfully useful on such occasions, when we can invent -little or nothing in our own justification. - -Meanwhile the young lady began to recover. Vladimir had not been seen -for a long time in the house of Gravril, so frightened had he been by -his previous reception. It was now resolved to send and announce to -him the good news which he could scarcely expect: the consent of her -parents to his marriage with Maria. - -But what was the astonishment of the proprietors of Nenaradova when, -in answer to their invitation, they received an insane reply. Vladimir -informed them he could never set foot in their house, and begged them -to forget an unhappy man whose only hope now was in death. A few days -afterwards they heard that Vladimir had left the place and joined the -army. - -A long time passed before they ventured to tell Masha, who was now -recovering. She never mentioned Vladimir. Some months later, however, -finding his name in the list of those who had distinguished themselves -and been severely wounded at Borodino, she fainted, and it was feared -that the fever might return. But, Heaven be thanked! the fainting fit -had no bad results. - - * * * * * - -Maria experienced yet another sorrow. Her father died, leaving her the -heiress of all his property. But the inheritance could not console her. -She shared sincerely the affliction of her mother, and vowed she would -never leave her. - -Suitors clustered round the charming heiress; but she gave no one the -slightest hope. Her mother sometimes tried to persuade her to choose a -companion in life; but Maria shook her head, and grew pensive. - -Vladimir no longer existed. He had died at Moscow on the eve of the -arrival of the French. His memory was held sacred by Maria, and she -treasured up everything that would remind her of him; books he had -read, drawings which he had made; songs he had sung, and the pieces of -poetry which he had copied out for her. - -The neighbours, hearing all this, wondered at her fidelity, and awaited -with curiosity the arrival of the hero who must in the end triumph over -the melancholy constancy of this virgin Artemis. - -Meanwhile, the war had been brought to a glorious conclusion, and our -armies were returning from abroad. The people ran to meet them. The -music played, by the regimental bands consisted of war songs, "Vive -Henri-Quatre," Tirolese waltzes and airs from Joconde. Nourished on -the atmosphere of winter, officers who had started on the campaign -mere striplings returned grown men, and covered with decorations. The -soldiers conversed gaily among themselves, mingling German and French -words every moment in their speech. A time never to be forgotten--a -time of glory and delight! How quickly beat the Russian heart at -the words, "Native land!" How sweet the tears of meeting! With what -unanimity did we combine feelings of national pride with love for the -Tsar! And for him, what a moment! - -The women--our Russian women--were splendid then. Their usual coldness -disappeared. Their delight was really intoxicating when, meeting the -conquerors, they cried, "Hurrah!" And they threw up their caps in the -air. - -Who of the officers of that period does not own that to the Russian -women he was indebted for his best and most valued reward? During this -brilliant period Maria was living with her mother in retirement, and -neither of them saw how, in both the capitals, the returning troops -were welcomed. But in the districts and villages the general enthusiasm -was, perhaps, even greater. - -[Illustration: "A TIME OF GLORY AND DELIGHT."] - -In these places the appearance of an officer became for him a veritable -triumph. The accepted lover in plain clothes fared badly by his side. - -We have already said that, in spite of her coldness, Maria was -still, as before, surrounded by suitors. But all had to fall in the -rear when there arrived at her castle the wounded young colonel -of Hussars--Burmin by name--with the order of St. George in his -button-hole, and an interesting pallor on his face. He was about -twenty-six. He had come home on leave to his estates, which were close -to Maria's villa. Maria paid him such attention as none of the others -received. In his presence her habitual gloom disappeared. It could not -be said that she flirted with him. But a poet, observing her behaviour, -might have asked, "S' amor non e, che dunque?" - -Burmin was really a very agreeable young man. He possessed just the -kind of sense that pleased women: a sense of what is suitable and -becoming. He had no affectation, and was carelessly satirical. His -manner towards Maria was simple and easy. He seemed to be of a quiet -and modest disposition; but rumour said that he had at one time been -terribly wild. This, however, did not harm him in the opinion of Maria, -who (like all other young ladies) excused, with pleasure, vagaries -which were the result of impulsiveness and daring. - -But above all--more than his love-making, more than his pleasant talk, -more than his interesting pallor, more even than his bandaged arm--the -silence of the young Hussar excited her curiosity and her imagination. -She could not help confessing to herself that he pleased her very much. -Probably he too, with his acuteness and his experience, had seen that -he interested her. How was it, then, that up to this moment she had -not seen him at her feet; had not received from him any declaration -whatever? And wherefore did she not encourage him with more attention, -and, according to circumstances, even with tenderness? Had she a secret -of her own which would account for her behaviour? - -At last, Burmin fell into such deep meditation, and his black eyes -rested with such fire upon Maria, that the decisive moment seemed very -near. The neighbours spoke of the marriage as an accomplished fact, and -kind Praskovia rejoiced that her daughter had at last found for herself -a worthy mate. - -The lady was sitting alone once in the drawing-room, laying out -grande-patience, when Burmin entered the room, and at once inquired for -Maria. - -"She is in the garden," replied the old lady: "go to her, and I will -wait for you here." Burmin went, and the old lady made the sign of the -cross and thought, "Perhaps the affair will be settled to-day!" - -Burmin found Maria in the ivy-bower beside the pond, with a book in -her hands, and wearing a white dress--a veritable heroine of romance. -After the first inquiries, Maria purposely let the conversation drop; -increasing by these means the mutual embarrassment, from which it was -only possible to escape by means of a sudden and positive declaration. - -It happened thus. Burmin, feeling the awkwardness of his position, -informed Maria that he had long sought an opportunity of opening his -heart to her, and that he begged for a moment's attention. Maria closed -the book and lowered her eyes, as a sign that she was listening. - -"I love you," said Burmin, "I love you passionately!" Maria blushed, -and bent her head still lower. - -"I have behaved imprudently, yielding as I have done to the seductive -pleasure of seeing and hearing you daily." Maria recollected the first -letter of St. Preux in 'La Nouvelle Heloise.' - -"It is too late now to resist my fate. The remembrance of you, your -dear incomparable image, must from to-day be at once the torment and -the consolation of my existence. I have now a grave duty to perform, -a terrible secret to disclose, which will place between us an -insurmountable barrier." - -[Illustration: "IN THE IVY BOWER."] - -"It has always existed!" interrupted Maria; "I could never have been -your wife." - -"I know," he replied quickly; "I know that you once loved. But death -and three years of mourning may have worked some change. Dear, kind -Maria, do not try to deprive me of my last consolation; the idea that -you might have consented to make me happy if----. Don't speak, for -God's sake don't speak--you torture me. Yes, I know, I feel that you -could have been mine, but--I am the most miserable of beings--I am -already married!" - -Maria looked at him in astonishment. - -"I am married," continued Burmin; "I have been married more than three -years, and do not know who my wife is, or where she is, or whether I -shall ever see her again." - -"What are you saying?" exclaimed Maria; "how strange! Pray continue." - -"In the beginning of 1812," said Burmin, a I was hurrying on to -Wilna, where my regiment was stationed. Arriving one evening late -at a station, I ordered, the horses to be got ready quickly, when -suddenly a fearful snowstorm broke out. Both station master and drivers -advised me to wait till it was over. I listened to their advice, but -an unaccountable restlessness took possession of me, just as though -someone was pushing me on. Meanwhile, the snowstorm did not abate. I -could bear it no longer, and again ordered the horses, and started in -the midst of the storm. The driver took it into his head to drive along -the river, which would shorten the distance by three miles. The banks -were covered with snowdrifts; the driver missed the turning which would -have brought us out on to the road, and we turned up in an unknown -place. The storm never ceased. I could discern a light, and told the -driver to make for it. We entered a village, and found that the light -proceeded from a wooden church. The church was open. Outside the -railings stood several sledges, and people passing in and out through -the porch. - -"'Here! here!' cried several voices. I told the coachman to drive up. - -"'Where have you dawdled?' said someone to me. 'The bride has fainted; -the priest does not know what to do: we were on the point of going -back. Make haste and get out!' - -"I got out of the sledge in silence, and stepped into the church, -which was dimly lighted with two or three tapers. A girl was sitting -in a dark corner on a bench; and another girl was rubbing her temples. -'Thank God,' said the latter, 'you have come at last! You have nearly -been the death of the young lady.' - -"The old priest approached me; saying, - -"'Shall I begin?' - -"'Begin--begin, reverend father,' I replied, absently. - -"The young lady was raised up. I thought her rather pretty. Oh, wild, -unpardonable frivolity! I placed myself by her side at the altar. The -priest hurried on. - -"Three men and the maid supported the bride, and occupied themselves -with her alone. We were married! - -"'Kiss your wife,' said the priest. - -"My wife turned her pale face towards me. I was going to kiss her, when -she exclaimed, 'Oh! it is not he--not he!' and fell back insensible. - -"The witnesses stared at me. I turned round and left the church without -any attempt being made to stop me, threw myself into the sledge, and -cried, 'Away!'" - -"What!" exclaimed Maria. "And you don't know what became of your -unhappy wife?" - -"I do not," replied Burmin; "neither do I know the name of the village -where I was married, nor that of the station from which I started. -At that time I thought so little of my wicked joke that, on driving -away from the church, I fell asleep, and never woke till early the -next morning, after reaching the third station. The servant who was -with me died during the campaign, so that I have now no hope of ever -discovering the unhappy woman on whom I played such a cruel trick, and -who is now so cruelly avenged." - -"Great heavens!" cried Maria, seizing his hand. "Then it was you, and -you do not recognise me?" Burmin turned pale--and threw himself at her -feet. - - - - -THE UNDERTAKER. - - -The last remaining goods of the undertaker, Adrian Prohoroff, were -piled on the hearse, and the gaunt pair, for the fourth time, dragged -the vehicle along from the Basmannaia to the Nikitskaia, whither the -undertaker had flitted with all his household. Closing the shop, he -nailed to the gates an announcement that the house was to be sold or -let, and then started on foot for his new abode. Approaching the small -yellow house which had long attracted his fancy and which he at last -bought at a high price, the old undertaker was surprised to find that -his heart did not rejoice. Crossing the strange threshold, he found -disorder inside his new abode, and sighed for the decrepit hovel, where -for eighteen years everything had been kept in the most perfect order. -He began scolding both his daughters and the servant for being so slow, -and proceeded to help them himself. Order was speedily established. -The case with the holy pictures, the cupboard with the crockery, the -table, sofa, and bedstead, took up their appropriate corners in the -back room. In the kitchen and parlour was placed the master's stock -in trade, that is to say, coffins of every colour and of all sizes; -likewise wardrobes containing mourning hats, mantles, and funeral -torches. Over the gate hung a signboard representing a corpulent cupid -holding a reversed torch in his hand, with the following inscription: -"Here coffins are sold, covered, plain, or painted. They are also let -out on hire, and old ones are repaired." - -The daughters had retired to their own room, Adrian went over his -residence, sat down by the window, and ordered the samovar to be got -ready. - -The enlightened reader is aware that both Shakespeare and Walter Scott -have represented their gravediggers as lively jocular people, for the -sake, no doubt, of a strong contrast. But respect for truth prevents me -from following their example; and I must confess that the disposition -of our undertaker corresponded closely with his melancholy trade. -Adrian Prohoroff: was usually pensive and gloomy. He only broke silence -to scold his daughters when he found them idle, looking out of window -at the passers by, or asking too exorbitant prices for his products -from those who had the misfortune (sometimes the pleasure) to require -them. Sitting by the window drinking his seventh cup of tea, according -to his custom, Adrian was wrapped in the saddest thoughts. He was -thinking of the pouring rain, which a week before had met the funeral -of a retired brigadier at the turnpike gate, causing many mantles to -shrink and many hats to contract. He foresaw inevitable outlay, his -existing supply of funeral apparel being in such a sad condition. But -he hoped to make good the loss from the funeral of the old shopwoman, -Tiruhina, who had been at the point of death for the last year. -Tiruhina, however, was dying at Basgulai, and Prohoroff was afraid that -her heirs, in spite of their promise to him, might be too lazy to send -so far, preferring to strike a bargain with the nearest contractor. - -These reflections were interrupted unexpectedly by three freemason -knocks at the door. "Who is there?" enquired the undertaker. The door -opened and a man, in whom at a glance might be recognised a German -artisan, entered the room, and with a cheery look approached the -undertaker. - -"Pardon me, my dear neighbour," he said, with the accent which even now -we Russians never hear without a smile; "Pardon me for disturbing you; -I wanted to make your acquaintance at once. I am a bootmaker, my name -is Gottlieb Schultz, I live in the next street--in that little house -opposite your windows. To morrow I celebrate my silver wedding, and I -want you and your daughters to dine with me in a friendly way." - -The invitation was accepted. The undertaker asked the bootmaker to sit -down and have a cup of tea, and thanks to Gottlieb Schultz's frank -disposition, they were soon talking in a friendly way. - -"How does your business get on?" enquired Adrian. - -"Oh, oh," replied Schultz, "one way and another I have no reason to -complain. Though, of course, my goods are not like yours. A living man -can do without boots, but a corpse cannot do without a coffin." - -"Perfectly true," said Adrian, "still, if a living man has nothing to -buy boots with he goes barefooted, whereas the destitute corpse gets -his coffin sometimes for nothing." - -Their conversation continued in this style for some time, until at last -the bootmaker rose and took leave of the undertaker, repeating his -invitation. - -Next day, punctually at twelve o'clock, the undertaker and his -daughters passed out at the gate of their newly-bought house, and -proceeded to their neighbours. I do not intend to describe Adrian's -Russian caftan nor the European dress of Akulina or Daria, contrary -though this be to the custom of fiction-writers of the present day. -I don't, however, think it superfluous to mention that both, maidens -wore yellow bonnets and scarlet shoes, which they only did on great -occasions. - -The bootmaker's small lodging was filled with guests, principally -German artisans, their wives, and assistants. Of Russian officials -there was only one watchman, the Finn Yurko, who had managed, in spite -of his humble position, to gain the special favour of his chief. He had -also performed the functions of postman for about twenty-five years, -serving truly and faithfully the people of Pogorelsk. The fire which, -in the year 1812, consumed the capital, burnt at the same time his -humble sentry box. But no sooner had the enemy fled, when in its place -appeared a small, new, grey sentry box, with tiny white columns of -Doric architecture, and Yurko resumed his patrol in front of it with -battle-axe on shoulder, and in the civic armour of the police uniform. - -He was well known to the greater portion of the German residents near -the Nikitski Gates, some of whom had occasionally even passed the night -from Sunday until Monday in Yurko's box. - -Adrian promptly made friends with a man of whom, sooner or later, he -might have need, and as the guests were just then going in to dinner -they sat down together. - -Mr. and Mrs. Schultz and their daughter, the seventeen-year-old -Lotchen, while dining with their guests, attended to their wants and -assisted the cook to wait upon them. Beer flowed. Yurko ate for four, -and Adrian did not fall short of him, though his daughters stood upon -ceremony. - -The conversation, which was in German, grew louder every hour. - -Suddenly the host called for the attention of the company, and opening -a pitch-covered bottle, exclaimed loudly in Russian: - -"The health of my good Louisa!" - -The imitation champagne frothed. The host kissed tenderly the fresh -face of his forty-year old spouse and the guests drank vociferously the -health of good Louisa. - -"The health of my dear guests!" cried the host opening the second -bottle. The guests thanked him and emptied their glasses. Then -one toast followed another. The health of each guest was proposed -separately; then the health of Moscow and of about a dozen German -towns. They drank the health of the guilds in general, and afterwards -of each one separately; The health of the foremen and of the workmen. -Adrian drank with a will and became so lively, that he himself proposed -some jocular toast. - -Suddenly one of the guests, a stout baker, raised his glass and -exclaimed: - -"The health of our customers!" - -This toast like all the others was drunk joyfully and unanimously. The -guests nodded to each other; the tailor to the bootmaker, the bootmaker -to the tailor; the baker to them both and all to the baker. - -Yurko in the midst of this bowing called out as he turned towards his -neighbour: - -"Now then! My friend, drink to the health of your corpses." - -Everybody laughed except the undertaker, who felt himself affronted and -frowned. No one noticed this; and the guests went on drinking till the -bells began to ring for evening service, when they all rose from the -table. - -The party had broken up late and most of the guests were very -hilarious. The stout baker, with the bookbinder, whose face looked as -if it were bound in red morocco, led Yurko by the arms to his sentry -box, thus putting in practice the proverb, "One good turns deserves -another." - -The undertaker went home drunk and angry. - -"How, indeed," he exclaimed aloud. "Is my trade worse than any other? -Is an undertaker own brother to the executioner? What have the infidels -to laugh at? Is an undertaker a hypocritical buffoon? I should have -liked to invite them to a housewarming; to give them a grand spread. -But no; that shall not be! I will ask my customers instead; my orthodox -corpses." - -"What!" exclaimed the servant, who at that moment was taking off the -undertaker's boots. "What is that, sir, you are saying? Make the sign -of the cross! Invite corpses to your housewarming! How awful!" - -"I will certainly invite them," persisted Adrian, "and not later than -for to-morrow. Honour me, my benefactors, with your company to-morrow -evening at a feast; I will offer you what God has given me." - -With these words the undertaker retired to bed, and was soon snoring. - -It was still dark when Adrian awoke. The shopkeeper, Triuhina, had died -in the night, and her steward had sent a special messenger on horseback -to inform Adrian of the fact. The undertaker gave him a _grivenik_ [a -silver fourpenny bit] for his trouble, to buy _vodka_ with; dressed -hurriedly, took an _isvoshchik_, and drove off to Rasgulai. At the gate -of the dead woman's house the police were already standing, and dealers -in mourning goods were hovering around, like ravens who have scented -a corpse. The defunct was lying in state on the table, yellow like -wax, but not yet disfigured by decomposition. Hear her, in a crowd, -were relations, friends, and domestics. All the windows were open; -wax tapers were burning; and the clergy were reading prayers. Adrian -went up to the nephew, a young shopman in a fashionable _surtout_, -and informed him that the coffin, tapers, pall, and the funeral -paraphernalia in general would promptly arrive. The heir thanked him in -an absent manner, saying that he would not bargain about the price, but -leave it all to his conscience. The undertaker, as usual, vowed that -his charges should be moderate, exchanged significant glances with the -steward, and left to make the necessary preparations. - -The whole day was spent in travelling from Rasgulai to the Nikitski -Grates and back again. Towards evening everything was settled, and -he started home on foot after discharging his hired _isvoshchik._ It -was a moonlight night, and the undertaker got safely to the Nikitski -Grates. At Yosnessenia he met our acquaintance, Yurko, who, recognising -the undertaker, wished him good-night. It was late. The undertaker was -close to his house when he thought he saw some one approach the gates, -open the wicket, and go in. - -"What does it mean?" thought Adrian. "Who can be wanting me again? Is -it a burglar, or can my foolish girls have lovers coming after them? -There is no telling," and the undertaker was on the point of calling -his friend Yurko to his assistance, when some one else came up to the -wicket and was about to enter, but seeing the master of the house run -towards him, he stopped, and took off his three cornered hat. His face -seemed familiar to Adrian, but in his hurry he had not been able to -see it properly. - -"You want me?" said Adrian, out of breath. "Walk in, if you please." - -"Don't stand on ceremony, my friend," replied the other, in a hollow -voice, "go first, and show your guest the way." - -Adrian had no time to waste on formality. The gate was open, and he -went up to the steps followed by the other. Adrian heard people walking -about in his rooms. - -"What the devil is this?" he wondered, and he hastened to see. But -now his legs seemed to be giving way. The room was full of corpses. -The moon, shining through the windows, lit up their yellow and blue -faces, sunken mouths, dim, half-closed eyes, and protruding noses. To -his horror, Adrian recognised in them people he had buried, and in -the guest who came in with him, the brigadier who had been interred -during a pouring rain. They all, ladies and gentlemen, surrounded the -undertaker, bowing and greeting him affably, except one poor fellow -lately buried gratis, who, ashamed of his rags, kept at a distance in -a corner of the room. The others were all decently clad; the female -corpses in caps and ribbons, the soldiers and officials in their -uniforms, but with unshaven beards; and the tradespeople in their best -caftans. - -"Prohoroff," said the brigadier, speaking on behalf of all the -company, "we have all risen to profit by your invitation. Only those -have stopped at home who were quite unable to do otherwise; who have -crumbled away and have nothing left but bare bones. Even among those -there was one who could not resist--he wanted so much to come." - -At this moment a diminutive skeleton pushed his way through the -crowd and approached Adrian. His death's head grinned affably at the -undertaker. Shreds of green and red cloth and of rotten linen hung on -him as on a pole; while the bones of his feet clattered inside his -heavy boots like pestles in mortars. - -"You do not recognise me, Prohoroff?" said the skeleton. "Don't -you remember the retired, sergeant in the guards, Peter Petrovitch -Kurilkin, him to whom you in the year 1799 sold your first coffin, and -of deal instead of oak?" With these words the corpse stretched out his -long arms to embrace him. But Adrian collecting his strength, shrieked, -and pushed him away. Peter Petrovitch staggered, fell over, and -crumbled to pieces. There was a murmur of indignation among the company -of corpses. All stood up for the honour of their companion, threatening -and abusing Adrian till the poor man, deafened by their shrieks and -quite overcome, lost his senses and fell unconscious among the bones of -the retired sergeant of the guard. - -The sun had been shining for sometime upon the bed on which the -undertaker lay, when he at last opened his eyes and saw the servant -lighting the _samovar._ With horror he recalled all the incidents of -the previous day. Triuchin, the brigadier, and the sergeant, Kurilkin, -passed dimly before his imagination. He waited in silence for the -servant to speak and tell him what had occurred during the night. - -"How you have slept, Adrian Prohorovitch!" said Aksima, handing him his -dressing-gown. "Your neighbour the tailor called, also the watchman, to -say that to-day was Turko's namesday; but you were so fast asleep that -we did not disturb you." - -"Did anyone come from the late Triuhina?" - -"The late? Is she dead, then?" - -"What a fool! Didn't you help me yesterday to make arrangements for her -funeral?" - -"Oh, my _batiushka!_ [little father] are you mad, or are you still -suffering from last night's drink? You were feasting all day at the -German's. You came home drunk, threw yourself on the bed, and and have -slept till now, when the bells have stopped ringing for Mass." - -"Really!" exclaimed the undertaker, delighted at the explanation. - -"Of course," replied the servant. - -"Well, if that is the case, let us have tea quickly, and call my -daughters." - - - - -THE POSTMASTER. - - -Who has not cursed the Postmaster; who has not quarrelled with him? -Who, in a moment of anger, has not demanded the fatal hook to write his -ineffectual complaint against extortion, rudeness, and unpunctuality? -Who does not consider him a human monster, equal only to our extinct -attorney, or, at least, to the brigands of the Murom Woods? Let us, -however, be just and place ourselves in his position, and, perhaps, -we shall judge him less severely. What is a Postmaster? A real martyr -of the 14th class (i.e., of nobility), only protected by his _tchin_ -(rank) from personal violence; and that not always. I appeal to the -conscience of my readers. What is the position of this dictator, as -Prince Yiasemsky jokingly calls him? Is it not really that of a galley -slave? No rest for him day or night. All the irritation accumulated -in the course of a dull journey by the traveller is vented upon the -Postmaster. If the weather is intolerable, the road wretched, the -driver obstinate, or the horses intractable--the Postmaster is to -blame. Entering his humble abode, the traveller looks upon him as his -enemy, and the Postmaster is lucky if he gets rid of his uninvited -guest soon. But should there happen to be no horses! Heavens! what -abuse, what threats are showered upon his head! Through rain and mud -he is obliged to seek them, so that during a storm, or in the winter -frosts, he is often glad to take refuge in the cold passage in order -to snatch a few moments of repose and to escape from the shrieking and -pushing of irritated guests. - -If a general arrives, the trembling Postmaster supplies him with -the two last remaining _troiki_ (team of three horses abreast), of -which one _troika_ ought, perhaps, to have been reserved for the -diligence. The general drives on without even a word of thanks. Five -minutes later the Postmaster hears--a bell! and the guard throws down -his travelling certificate on the table before him! Let us realize -all this, and, instead of anger, we shall feel sincere pity for the -Postmaster. A few words more. In the course of twenty years I have -travelled all over Russia, and know nearly all the mail routes. I have -made the acquaintance of several generations of drivers. There are few -postmasters whom I do not know personally, and few with whom I have -not had dealings. My curious collection of travelling experiences I -hope shortly to publish. At present I will only say that, as a class, -the Postmaster is presented to the public in a false light. This -much-libelled personage is generally a peaceful, obliging, sociable, -modest man, and not too fond of money. From his conversation (which -the travelling gentry very wrongly despise) much interesting and -instructive information may be acquired. As far as I am concerned, I -profess that I prefer his talk to that of some _tchinovnik_ (official) -of the 6th class, travelling for the Government. - -It may easily be guessed that I have some friends among the honourable -class of postmasters. Indeed, the memory of one of them is very dear -to me. Circumstances at one time brought us together, and it is of him -that I now intend to tell my dear readers. - -In the May of 1816 I chanced to be passing through the Government of -----, along a road now no longer existing. I held a small rank, and -was travelling with relays of three horses while paying only for two. -Consequently the Postmaster stood upon no ceremony with me, but I -had often to take from him by force what I considered to be mine by -right. Being young and passionate, I was indignant at the meanness and, -cowardice of the Postmaster when he handed over the _troika_ prepared -for me to some official gentleman of higher rank. - -It also took me a long time to get over the offence, when a servant, -fond of making distinctions, missed me when waiting at the governor's -table. Now the one and the other appear to me to be quite in the -natural course of things. Indeed, what would become of us, if, instead -of the convenient rule that rank gives precedence to rank, the rule -were to be reversed, and mind made to give precedence to mind? What -disputes would arise! Besides, to whom would the attendants first hand -the dishes? But to return to my story. - -The day was hot. About three versts from the station it began to spit, -and a minute afterwards there was a pouring rain, and I was soon -drenched to the skin. Arriving at the station, my first care was to -change my clothes, and then I asked for a cup of tea. - -"Hi! Dunia!" called out the Postmaster, "Prepare the _samovar_ and -fetch some cream." - -In obedience to this command, a girl of fourteen appeared from behind -the partition, and ran out into the passage. I was struck by her beauty. - -"Is that your daughter?" I inquired of the Postmaster. - -"Yes," he answered, with a look of gratified pride, "and such a good, -clever girl, just like her late mother." Then, while he took note of my -travelling certificate, I occupied the time in examining the pictures -which decorated the walls of his humble abode. They were illustrations -of the story of the Prodigal Son. In the firsts a venerable old man -in a skull cap and dressing gown, is wishing good-bye to the restless -youth who naturally receives his blessing and a bag of money. In -another, the dissipated life of the young man is painted in glaring -colours; he is sitting at a table surrounded by false friends and -shameless women. In the next picture, the ruined youth in his shirt -sleeves and a three-corned hat, is taking care of some swine while -sharing their food. His face expresses deep sorrow and contrition. -Finally, there was the representation of his return to his father. -The kind old man, in the same cap and dressing gown, runs out to meet -him; the prodigal son falls on his knees before him; in the distance, -the cook is killing the fatted calf, and the eldest son is asking the -servants the reason of all this rejoicing. At the foot of each picture -I read some appropriate German verses. I remember them all distinctly, -as well as some pots of balsams, the bed with the speckled curtains, -and many other characteristic surroundings. I can see the stationmaster -at this moment; a man about fifty years of age, fresh and strong, in a -long green coat, with three medals on faded ribbons. - -I had scarcely time to settle with my old driver when Dunia returned -with the _samovar_. The little coquette saw at a second glance the -impression she had produced upon me. She lowered her large, blue eyes. -I spoke to her, and she replied confidently, like a girl accustomed to -society. I offered a glass of punch to her father, to Dunia I handed a -cup of tea. Then we all three fell into easy conversation, as if we had -known each other all our lives. - -The horses had been waiting a long while, but I was loth to part from -the Postmaster and his daughter. At last I took leave of them, the -father wishing me a pleasant journey, while the daughter saw me to the -_telega_. In the corridor I stopped and asked permission to kiss her. -Dunia consented. I can remember a great many kisses since then, but -none which left such a lasting, such a delightful impression. - -Several years passed, when circumstances brought me back to the same -tract, to the very same places. I recollected the old Postmasters -daughter, and rejoiced at the prospect of seeing her again. - -"But," I thought, "perhaps the old Postmaster has been changed, and -Dunia may be already married." The idea that one or the other might -be dead also passed through my mind, and I approached the station of ----- with sad presentiments. The horses drew up at the small station -house. I entered the waiting-room, and instantly recognised the -pictures representing the story of the Prodigal Son. The table and the -bed stood in their old places, but the flowers on the window sills had -disappeared, while all the surroundings showed neglect and decay. - -The Postmaster was asleep under his great-coat, but my arrival awoke -him and he rose. It was certainly Simeon Virin, but how aged! While he -was preparing to make a copy of my travelling certificate, I looked at -his grey hairs, and the deep wrinkles in his long, unshaven face, his -bent back, and I was amazed to see how three or four years had managed -to change a strong, middle-aged man into a frail, old one. - -"Do you recognise me?" I asked him, "we are old friends." - -"May be," he replied, gloomily, "this is a highway, and many travellers -have passed through here." - -"Is your Dunia well?" I added. The old man frowned. - -"Heaven knows," he answered. - -"Apparently, she is married," I said. - -The old man pretended not to hear my question, and in a low voice went -on reading my travelling certificate. I ceased my inquiries and ordered -hot water. - -My curiosity was becoming painful, and I hoped that the punch would -loosen the tongue of my old friend. I was not mistaken; the old man -did not refuse the proffered tumbler. I noticed that the rum dispelled -his gloom. At the second glass he became talkative, remembered, or at -any rate looked as if he remembered, me, and I heard the story, which -at the time interested me and even affected me much. - -"So you knew my Dunia?" he began. "But, then, who did not? Oh, Dunia, -Dunia! What a beautiful girl you were! You were admired and praised -by every traveller. No one had a word to say against her. The ladies -gave her presents--one a handkerchief, another a pair of earrings. The -gentlemen stopped on purpose, as if to dine or to take supper, but -really only to take a longer look at her. However rough a man might be, -he became subdued in her presence and spoke graciously to me. Will you -believe me, sir? Couriers and special messengers would talk to her for -half-an-hour at the time. She was the support of the house. She kept -everything in order, did everything and looked after everything. While -I, the old fool that I was, could not see enough of her, or pet her -sufficiently. How I loved her! How I indulged my child! Surely her life -was a happy one? But, no! fate is not to be avoided." - -Then he began to tell me his sorrow in detail. Three years before, -one winter evening, while the Postmaster was ruling a new book, his -daughter in the next partition was busy making herself a dress, when -a _troika_ drove up and a traveller, wearing a Circassian hat and a -long military overcoat, and muffled in a shawl, entered the room and -demanded horses. - -The horses were all out. Hearing this, the traveller had raised his -voice and his whip, when Dunia, accustomed to such scenes, rushed out -from behind the partition and inquired pleasantly whether he would not -like something to eat? Her appearance produced the usual effect. The -passenger's rage subsided, he agreed to wait for horses, and ordered -some supper. He took off his wet hat, unloosed the shawl, and divested -himself of his long overcoat. - -The traveller was a tall, young hussar with a small black moustache. -He settled down comfortably at the Postmaster's and began a lively, -conversation with him and his daughter. Supper was served. Meanwhile, -the horses returned and the Postmaster ordered them instantly, without -being fed, to be harnessed to the traveller's _kibitka._ But returning -to the room, he found the young man senseless on the bench where he lay -in a faint. Such a headache had attacked him that it was impossible for -him to continue his journey. What was to be done? The Postmaster gave -up his own bed to him; and it was arranged that if the patient was not -better the next morning to send to C------ for the doctor. - -Next day the hussar was worse. His servant rode to the town to fetch -the doctor. Dunia bound up his head with a handkerchief moistened -in vinegar, and sat down with her needlework by his bedside. In the -presence of the Postmaster the invalid groaned and scarcely said a word. - -Nevertheless, he drank two cups of coffee and, still groaning, ordered -a good dinner. Dunia never left him. Every time he asked for a drink -Dunia handed him the jug of lemonade prepared by herself. After -moistening his lips, the patient each time he returned the jug gave her -hand a gentle pressure in token of gratitude. - -Towards dinner time the doctor arrived. He felt the patient's pulse, -spoke to him in German and in Russian, declared that all he required -was rest, and said that in a couple of days he would be able to start -on his journey. The hussar handed him twenty-five rubles for his visit, -and gave him an invitation to dinner, which the doctor accepted. They -both ate with a good appetite, and drank a bottle of wine between them. -Then, very pleased with one another, they separated. - -Another day passed, and the hussar had quite recovered. He became very -lively, incessantly joking, first with Dunia, then with the Postmaster, -whistling tunes, conversing with the passengers, copying their -travelling certificates into the station book, and so ingratiating -himself that on the third day the good Postmaster regretted parting -with his dear lodger. - -It was Sunday, and Dunia was getting ready to attend mass. The hussar's -_kibitka_ was at the door. He took leave of the Postmaster, after -recompensing him handsomely for his board and lodging, wished Dunia -good-bye, and proposed to drop her at the church, which was situated at -the other end of the village. Dunia hesitated. - -"What are you afraid of?" asked her father. "His nobility is not a -wolf. He won't eat you. Drive with him as far as the church." - -Dunia got into the carriage by the side of the hussar. The servant -jumped on the coach box, the coachman gave a whistle, and the horses -went off at a gallop. - -The poor Postmaster could not understand how he came to allow his Dunia -to drive off with the hussar; how he could have been so blind, and what -had become of his senses. Before half-an-hour had passed his heart -misgave him. It ached, and he became so uneasy that he could bear the -situation no longer, and started for the church himself. Approaching -the church, he saw that the people were already dispersing. But Dunia -was neither in the churchyard nor at the entrance. He hurried into -the church; the priest was just leaving the altar, the clerk was -extinguishing the tapers, two old women were still praying in a corner; -but Dunia was nowhere to be seen. The poor father could scarcely summon -courage to ask the clerk if she had been to mass. The clerk replied -that she had not. The Postmaster returned home neither dead nor alive. -He had only one hope left; that Dunia in the flightiness of her youth -had, perhaps, resolved to drive as far as the next station, where her -godmother lived. In patient agitation he awaited the return of the -_troika_ with which he had allowed her to drive off, but the driver did -not come back. At last, towards night, he arrived alone and tipsy, with -the fatal news that Dunia had gone on with the hussar. - -The old man succumbed to his misfortune, and took to his bed, the same -bed where, the day before, the young impostor had lain. Recalling all -the circumstances, the Postmaster understood now that the hussar's -illness had been shammed. The poor fellow sickened with severe fever, -he was removed to C------, and in his place another man was temporarily -appointed. The same doctor who had visited the hussar attended him. He -assured the Postmaster that the young man had been perfectly well, that -he had from the first had suspicions of his evil intentions, but that -he had kept silent for fear of his whip. - -Whether the German doctor spoke the truth, or was anxious only to prove -his great penetration, his assurance brought no consolation to the poor -patient. As soon as he was beginning to recover from his illness, the -old Postmaster asked his superior postmaster of the town of C------ for -two months' leave of absence, and without saying a word to anyone, he -started off on foot to look for his daughter. - -From the station book he discovered that Captain Minsky had left -Smolensk for Petersburg. The coachman who drove him said that Dunia had -wept all the way, though she seemed to be going of her own free will. - -"Perhaps," thought the station master, "I shall bring back my strayed -lamb." With this idea he reached St. Petersburg, and stopped with the -Ismailovsky regiment, in the quarters of a non-commissioned officer, -his old comrade in arms. Beginning his search he soon found out that -Captain Minsky was in Petersburg, living at Demuth's Hotel. The -Postmaster determined to see him. - -Early in the morning he went to Minsky's antechamber, and asked to -have his nobility informed that an old soldier wished to see him. The -military attendant, in the act of cleaning a boot on a boot-tree, -informed him that his master was asleep, and never received anyone -before eleven o'clock. The Postmaster left to return at the appointed -time. Minsky came out to him in his dressing gown and red skull cap. - -"Well, my friend, what do you want?" he inquired. - -The old maids heart boiled, tears started to his eyes, and in a -trembling voice he could only say, "Your nobility; be divinely -merciful!" - -Minsky glanced quickly at him, flushed, and seizing him by the hand, -led him into his study and locked the door. - -"Your nobility!" continued the old man, "what has fallen from the cart -is lost; give me back, at any rate, my Dunia. Let her go. Do not ruin -her entirely." - -"What is done cannot be undone," replied the young man, in extreme -confusion. "I am guilty before you, and ready to ask your pardon. But -do not imagine that I could neglect Dunia. She shall be happy, I give -you my word of honour. Why do you want her? She loves me; she has -forsaken her former existence. Neither you nor she can forget what has -happened." Then, pushing something up his sleeve, he opened the door, -and the Postmaster found himself, he knew not how, in the street. - -He stood long motionless, at last catching sight of a roll of papers -inside his cuff, he pulled them out and unrolled several crumpled-up -fifty ruble notes. His eyes again filled with tears, tears of -indignation! He crushed the notes into a ball, threw them on the -ground, and, stamping on them with his heel, walked away. After a few -steps he stopped, reflected a moment, and turned back. - -But the notes were gone. A well-dressed young man, who had observed -him, ran towards an _isvoshtchick_, got in hurriedly, and called to the -driver to be "off." - -The Postmaster did not pursue him. He had resolved to return home to -his post-house; but before doing so he wished to see his poor Dunia -once more. With this view, a couple of days afterwards he returned to -Minsky's lodgings. But the military servant told him roughly that his -master received nobody, pushed him out of the antechamber, and slammed -the door in his face. The Postmaster stood and stood, and at last went -away. - -That same day, in the evening, he was walking along the Leteinaia, -having been to service at the Church of the All Saints, when a smart -_drojki_ flew past him, and in it the Postmaster recognised Minsky. -The _drojki_ stopped in front of a three-storeyed house at the very -entrance, and the hussar ran up the steps. A happy thought occurred to -the Postmaster. He retraced his steps. - -"Whose horses are these?" he inquired of the coachman. "Don't they -belong to Minsky?" - -"Exactly so," replied the coachman. "Why do you ask?" - -"Why! your master told me to deliver a note for him to his Dunia, and I -have forgotten where his Dunia lives." - -"She lives here on the second floor; but you are too late, my friend, -with your note; he is there himself now." - -"No matter," answered the Postmaster, who had an undefinable sensation -at his heart. "Thanks for your information; I shall be able to manage -my business." With these words he ascended the steps. - -The door was locked; he rang. There were several seconds of painful -delay. Then the key jingled, and the door opened. - -"Does Avdotia Simeonovna live here?" he inquired. - -"She does," replied the young maid-servant, "What do you want with her?" - -The Postmaster did not reply, but walked on. - -"You must not, must not," she called after him; "Avdotia Simeonovna has -visitors." But the Postmaster, without listening, went on. The first -two rooms were dark. In the third there was a light. He approached the -open door and stopped. In the room, which was beautifully furnished, -sat Minsky in deep thought. Dunia, dressed in all the splendour of -the latest fashion, sat on the arm of his easy chair, like a rider -on an English side saddle. She was looking tenderly at Minsky, while -twisting his black locks round her glittering fingers. Poor Postmaster! -His daughter had never before seemed so beautiful to him. In spite of -himself, he stood admiring her. - -"Who is there?" she asked, without raising her head. - -He was silent. - -Receiving no reply Dunia looked up, and with a cry she fell on the -carpet. - -Minsky, in alarm, rushed to pick her up, when suddenly seeing the old -Postmaster in the doorway, he left Dunia and approached him, trembling -with rage. - -"What do you want?" he inquired, clenching his teeth. "Why do you steal -after me everywhere, like a burglar? Or do you want to murder me? -Begone!" and with a strong hand he seized the old man by the scruff of -the neck and pushed him down the stairs. - -The old man went back to his rooms. His friend advised him to take -proceedings, but the Postmaster reflected, waved his hand, and decided -to give the matter up. Two days afterwards he left Petersburg for his -station and resumed his duties. - -"This is the third year," he concluded, "that I am living without my -Dunia; and I have had no tidings whatever of her. Whether she is alive -or not God knows. Many tilings happen. She is not the first, nor the -last, whom a wandering blackguard has _enticed_ away, kept for a time, -and then dropped. There are many such young fools in Petersburg to-day, -in satins and velvets, and to-morrow you see them sweeping the streets -in the company of drunkards in rags. When I think sometimes that Dunia, -too, may end in the same way, then, in spite of myself, I sin, and wish -her in her grave." - -Such was the story of my friend, the old Postmaster, the story more -than once interrupted by tears, which he wiped away picturesquely -with the flap of his coat like the faithful Terentieff in Dmitrieff's -beautiful ballad. The tears were partly caused by punch, of which he -had consumed five tumblers in the course of his narrative. But whatever -their origin, I was deeply affected by them. After parting with him, it -was long before I could forget the old Postmaster, and I thought long -of poor Dunia. - -Lately, again passing through the small place of ------, I remembered -my friend. I heard that the station over which he ruled had been done -away with. To my inquiry, "Is the Postmaster alive?" no one could give -a satisfactory answer. Having resolved to pay a visit to the familiar -place, I hired horses of my own, and started for the village of N----. - -It was autumn. Grey clouds covered the sky; a cold wind blew from the -close reaped fields, carrying with it the brown and yellow leaves -of the trees which it met. I arrived in the village at sunset, and -stopped at the station house. In the passage (where once Dunia had -kissed me) a stout woman met me; and to my inquiries, replied that the -old Postmaster had died about a year before; that a brewer occupied -his house; and that she was the wife of that brewer. I regretted my -fruitless journey, and my seven roubles of useless expense. - -"Of what did he die?" I asked the brewer's wife. - -"Of drink," she answered. - -"And where is he buried?" - -"Beyond the village, by the side of his late wife." - -"Could someone take me to his grave?" - -"Certainly! Hi, Vanka! cease playing with the cat and take this -gentleman to the cemetery, and show him the Postmaster's grave." - -At these words, a ragged boy, with red hair and a squint, ran towards -me to lead the way. - -"Did you know the poor man?" I asked him, on the road. - -"How should I not know him? He taught me to make whistles. When (may -he be in heaven!) we met him coming from the tavern, _we_ used to run -after him calling, 'Daddy! daddy! some nuts,' and he gave us nuts. He -idled most of his time away with, us." - -"And do the travellers ever speak of him?" - -"There are few travellers now-a-days, unless the assize judge turns up; -and he is too busy to think of the dead. But a lady, passing through -last summer, did ask after the old Postmaster, and she went to his -grave." - -"What was the ladylike?" I inquired curiously. - -"A beautiful lady," answered the boy. "She travelled in a coach with -six horses, three beautiful little children, a nurse, and a little -black dog; and when she heard that the old Postmaster was dead, she -wept, and told the children to keep quiet while she went to the -cemetery. I offered to show her the way, but the lady said, 'I know -the way,' and she gave me a silver _piatak_ (twopence) ... such a kind -lady!" - -We reached the cemetery. It was a bare place unenclosed, marked with -wooden crosses and unshaded by a single tree. Never before had I seen -such a melancholy cemetery. - -"Here is the grave of the old Postmaster," said the boy to me, as he -pointed to a heap of sand into which had been stuck a black cross with -a brass _icon_ (image). - -"Did the lady come here?" I asked. - -"She did," replied Vanka. "I saw her from a distance. She lay down -here, and remained lying down for a long while. Then she went into the -village and saw the priest. She gave him some money and drove off. To -me she gave a silver _piatak._ She was a splendid lady!" - -And I also gave the boy a silver _piatak,_ regretting neither the -journey nor the seven roubles that it had cost me. - - - - -THE LADY RUSTIC. - - -In one of our distant provinces was the estate of Ivan Petrovitch -Berestoff. As a youth he served in the guards, but having left the -army early in 1797 he retired to his country seat and there remained. -He married a wife from among the poor nobility, and when she died in -childbed he happened to be detained on farming business in one of his -distant fields. His daily occupations soon brought him consolation. He -built a house on his own plan, set up his own cloth factory, became his -own auditor and accountant, and began to think himself the cleverest -fellow in the whole district. The neighbours who used to come to him -upon a visit and bring their families and dogs took good care not to -contradict him. His work-a-day dress was a short coat of velveteen; -on holidays he wore a frock-coat of cloth from his own factory. His -accounts took most of his time, and he read nothing but the _Senatorial -News_. On the whole, though he was considered proud, he was not -disliked. The only person who could never get on with him was his -nearest neighbour, Grigori Ivanovitch Muromsky. A true Russian _barin,_ -he had squandered in Moscow a large part of his estate, and having lost -his wife as well as his money he had retired to his sole remaining -property, and there continued his extragavance but in a different way. -He set up an English garden on which he spent nearly all the income he -had left. His grooms wore English liveries. An English governess taught -his daughter. He farmed his land upon the English system. But foreign -farming grows no Russian corn. - -So, in spite of his retirement, the income of Grigori Ivanovitch did -not increase. Even in the country he had a faculty for making new -debts. But he was no fool, people said, for was he not the first -landowner in all that province to mortgage his property to the -government--a process then generally believed to be one of great -complexity and risk? Among his detractors Berestoff, a thorough hater -of innovation, was the most severe. In speaking of his neighbour's -Anglo-mania he could scarcely keep his feelings under control, and -missed no opportunity for criticism. To some compliment from a visitor -to his estate he would answer, with a knowing smile: - -"Yes, my farming is not like that of Grigori Ivanovitch. I can't afford -to ruin my land on the English system, but I am satisfied to escape -starvation on the Russian." - -Obliging neighbours reported these and other jokes to Grigori, with -additions and commentaries of their own. The Anglo-maniac was as -irritable as a journalist under this criticism, and wrathfully referred -to his critic as a bumpkin and a bear. - -Relations were thus strained when Berestoff's son came home. Having -finished his university career, he wanted to go into the army; but his -father objected. For the civil service young Berestoff had no taste. -Neither would yield, so young Alexis took up the life of a country -gentleman, and to be ready for emergencies cultivated a moustache. He -was really a handsome fellow, and it would indeed have been a pity -never to pinch his fine figure into a military uniform, and instead -of displaying his broad shoulders on horseback to round them over an -office desk. Ever foremost in the hunting-field, and a straight rider, -it was quite clear, declared the neighbours, that he could never make -a good official. The shy young ladies glanced and the bold stared at -him in admiration; but he took no notice of them, and each could only -attribute his indifference to some prior attachment. In fact, there was -in private circulation, copied from an envelope in his handwriting, -this address: - - A. N. P., - Care of Akulina Petrovna Kurotchkina, - Opposite Alexeieff Monastery. - -Those readers who have not seen our country life can hardly realize the -charm of these provincial girls. Breathing pure air under the shadow -of their apple trees, their only knowledge of the world is drawn from -books. In solitude and unrestrained, their feelings and their passions -develop early to a degree unknown to the busier beauties of our towns. -For them the tinkling of a bell is an event, a drive into the nearest -town an epoch, and a chance visit a long, sometimes an everlasting -remembrance. At their oddities he may laugh who will, but superficial -sneers cannot impair their real merits--their individuality, which, so -says Jean Paul, is a necessary element of greatness. The women in large -towns may be better educated, but the levelling influence of the world -soon makes all women as much alike as their own head-dresses. - -Let not this be regarded as condemnation. Still as an ancient writer -says _nota nostra manet._ - -It may be imagined what an impression Alexis made on our country -misses. He was the first gloomy and disenchanted hero they had ever -beheld; the first who ever spoke to them of vanished joys and blighted -past. Besides, he wore a black ring with a death's head on it. All this -was quite a new thing in that province, and the young ladies all went -crazy. - -But she in whose thoughts he dwelt most deeply was Lisa, or, as the old -Anglo-maniac called her, Betty, the daughter of Grigori Ivanovitch. -Their fathers did not visit, so she had never seen Alexis, who was -the sole topic of conversation among her young neighbours. She was -just seventeen, with dark eyes lighting up her pretty face. An only, -and consequently a spoilt child, full of life and mischief, she was -the delight of her father, and the distraction of her governess, Miss -Jackson, a prim spinster in the forties, who powdered her face and -blackened her eyebrows, read Pamela twice a year, drew a salary of -2,000 rubles, and was nearly bored to death in barbarous Russia. - -Lisa's maid Nastia was older, but quite as flighty as her mistress, who -was very fond of her, and had her as confidante in all her secrets and -as fellow-conspirator in her mischief. - -In fact, no leading lady played half such an important part in French -tragedy as was played by Nastia in the village. - -Said Nastia, while dressing her young lady: - -"May I go to-day and visit a friend?" - -"Yes. Where?" - -"To the Berestoff's. It is the cook's namesday. He called yesterday to -ask us to dinner." - -"Then," said Lisa, "the masters quarrel and the servants entertain one -another." - -"And what does that matter to us?" said Nastia. "I belong to you and -not to your father. You have not quarrelled with young Berestoff yet. -Let the old people fight if they please." - -"Nastia! try and see Alexei Berestoff. Come back and tell me all about -him." - -Nastia promised; Lisa spent the whole day impatiently waiting for her. -In the evening she returned. - -"Well, Lisaveta Grigorievna!" she said, as she entered the room. - -"I have seen young Berestoff. I had a good look at him. We spent the -whole day together." - -"How so? tell me all about it." - -"Certainly? We started, I and Anissia----" - -"Yes, yes, I know! What then?" - -"I would rather tell you in proper order. We were just in time for -dinner; the room was quite full. There were the Zaharievskys, the -steward's wife and daughters, the Shlupinskys----" - -"Yes, yes! And Berestoff?" - -"Wait a bit. We sat down to dinner. The steward's wife had the seat of -honour; I sat next to her, and her daughters were huffy; but what do I -care!" - -"Oh, Nastia! How tiresome you are with these everlasting details!" - -"How impatient you are! Well, then we rose from table--we had been -sitting for about three hours and it was a splendid dinner-party, -blue, red and striped creams--then we went into the garden to play at -kiss-in-the-ring when the young gentleman appeared." - -"Well, is it true? Is he so handsome?" - -"Wonderfully handsome! I may say beautiful. Tall, stately, with a -lovely colour." - -"Really! I thought his face was pale. Well, how did he strike you--Was -he melancholy and thoughtful?" - -"Oh, no! I never saw such a mad fellow. He took it into his head to -join us at kiss-in-the-ring." "He played at kiss-in-the-ring! It is -impossible." - -"No, it's very possible; and what more do you think? When he caught any -one he kissed her." "Of course you may tell lies if you like, Nastia." - -"As you please, miss, only I am not lying. I could scarcely get away -from him. Indeed he spent the whole day with us." - -"Why do people say then that he is in love and looks at nobody?" - -"I am sure I don't know, miss. He looked too much at me and Tania too, -the steward's daughter, and at Pasha too. In fact, he neglected nobody. -He is such a wild fellow!" - -"This is surprising; and what do the servants say about him?" - -"They say he is a splendid gentleman--so kind, so lively! He has only -one fault: he is too fond of the girls. But I don't think that is such -a great fault. He will get steadier in time." - -"How I should like to see him," said Lisa, with a sigh. - -"And why can't you? Tugilovo is only a mile off. Take a walk in that -direction, or a ride, and you are sure to meet him. He shoulders his -gun and goes shooting every morning." - -"No, it would never do. He would think I was running after him. -Besides, our fathers have quarrelled, so he and I could hardly set up -a friendship. Oh, Nastia! I know what I'll do. I will dress up like a -peasant." - -"That will do. Put on a coarse chemise and a _sarafan_, and set out -boldly for Tugilovo. Berestoff will never miss you I promise you." - -"I can talk like a peasant splendidly. Oh, Nastia, dear Nastia, what -a happy thought!" and Lisa went to bed resolved to carry out her -plan. Next day she made her preparations. She went to the market for -some coarse linen, some dark blue stuff, and some brass buttons, and -out of these Nastia and she cut a chemise and a _sarafan._ All the -maid-servants were set down to sew, and by evening everything was -ready. - -As she tried on her new costume before the glass, Lisa said to herself -that she had never looked so nice. Then she began to rehearse her -meeting with Alexis. First she gave him a low bow as she passed along, -then she continued to nod her head like a mandarin. Next she addressed -him in a peasant _patois,_ simpering and shyly hiding her face behind -her sleeve. Nastia gave the performance her full approval. But there -was one difficulty. She tried to cross the yard barefooted, but the -grass stalks pricked her tender feet and the gravel caused intolerable -pain. Nastia again came to the rescue. - -She took the measure of Lisa's foot and hurried across the fields to -the herdsman Trophim, of whom she ordered a pair of bark shoes. - -The next morning before daylight Lisa awoke. The whole household was -still asleep. Nastia was at the gate waiting for the herdsman; soon -the sound of his horn drew near, and the village herd straggled past -the Manor gates. After them came Trophim, who, as he passed, handed to -Nastia a little pair of speckled bark shoes, and received a ruble. - -Lisa, who had quietly donned her peasant dress, whispered to Nastia -her last instructions about Miss Jackson; then she went through the -kitchen, out of the back door, into the open field, then she began to -run. - -Dawn was breaking, and the rows of golden clouds stood like courtiers -waiting for their monarch. The clear sky, the fresh morning air, the -dew, the breeze and singing of the birds filled Lisa's heart with -child-like joy. - -Fearing to meet with some acquaintance, she did nor walk but flew. As -she drew near the wood where lay the boundary of her father's property -she slackened her pace. It was here she was to meet Alexis. Her heart -beat violently, she knew not why. The terrors of our youthful escapades -are their chief charm. - -Lisa stepped forward into the darkness of the wood; its hollow -echoes bade her welcome. Her buoyant spirits gradually gave place to -meditation. She thought--but who shall truly tell the thoughts of sweet -seventeen in a wood, alone, at six o'clock on a spring morning? - -And as she walked in meditation under the shade of lofty trees, -suddenly a beautiful pointer began to bark at her. Lisa cried out with -fear, and at the same moment a voice exclaimed, "_Tout beau Shogar, -ici,_" and a young sportsman stepped from behind the bushes. "Don't be -afraid, my dear, he won't bite." - -Lisa had already recovered from her fright, and instantly took -advantage of the situation. - -"It's all very well, sir," she said, with assumed timidity and shyness, -_"I_ am afraid of him, he seems such a savage creature, and may fly at -me again." - -Alexis, whom the reader has already recognised, looked steadily at the -young peasant. "I will escort you, if you are afraid; will you allow me -to walk by your side?" - -"Who is to prevent you?" replied Lisa. "A freeman can do as he likes, -and the road is public!" - -"Where do you come from?" - -"From Prilutchina; I am the daughter of Yassili, the blacksmith, and I -am looking for mushrooms." She was carrying a basket suspended from her -shoulders by a cord. - -"And you, _barin_; are you from Tugilovo?" - -"Exactly, I am the young gentleman's valet" (he wished to equalize -their ranks). But Lisa looked at him and laughed. - -"Ah! you are lying," she said. "I am not a fool. I see you are the -master himself." - -"What makes you think so?" - -"Everything." - -"Still----?" - -"How can one help it. You are not dressed like a servant. You speak -differently. You even call your dog in a foreign tongue." - -Lisa charmed him more and more every moment. Accustomed to be -unceremonious with pretty country girls, he tried to kiss her, but -Lisa jumped aside, and suddenly assumed so distant and severe an air -that though it amused him he did not attempt any further familiarities. - -"If you wish to remain friends," she said, with dignity, "do not forget -yourself." - -"Who has taught you this wisdom?" asked Alexis, with a laugh. "Can -it be my little friend Nastia, your mistress's maid? So this is how -civilization spreads." - -Lisa felt she had almost betrayed herself, and said, "Do you think I -have never been up to the Manor House? I have seen and heard more than -you think. Still, chattering here with you won't get me mushrooms. You -go that way, _barin_; I'll go the other, begging your pardon;" and Lisa -made as if to depart, but Alexis held her by the hand. - -"What is your name, my dear?" - -"Akulina," she said, struggling to get her fingers free. "Let me go, -_barin,_ it is time for me to be home." - -"Well, my friend Akulina, I shall certainly call on your father, -Yassili, the blacksmith." - -"For the Lord's sake don't do that. If they knew at home I had been -talking here alone with the young _barin,_ I should catch it. My father -would beat me within an inch of my life." - - -"Well, I must see you again." - -"I will come again some other day for mushrooms." - -"When?" - -"To-morrow, if you like." - -"My dear Akulina, I would kiss you if I dared. To-morrow, then, at the -same time; that is a bargain." - -"All right." - -"You will not play me false?" - -"No." - -"Swear it." - -"By the Holy Friday, then, I will come." - -The young couple parted. Lisa ran out of the wood across the fields, -stole into the garden, and rushed headlong into the farmyard, where -Nastia was waiting for her. Then she changed her dress, answering at -random the impatient questions of her _confidante_, and went into the -dining-room to find the cloth laid and breakfast ready. Miss Jackson, -freshly powdered and Jaced, until she looked like a wine glass, was -cutting thin slices of bread and butter. Her father complimented Lisa -on her early walk. - -"There is no healthier habit," he remarked, "than to rise at daybreak." -He quoted from the English papers several cases of longevity, adding -that all centenarians had abstained from spirits, and made it a -practice to rise at daybreak winter and summer. Lisa did not prove -an attentive listener. She was repeating in her mind the details of -her morning's interview, and as she recalled Akulina's conversation -with the young sportsman her conscience smote her. In vain she assured -herself that the bounds of decorum had not been passed. This joke, she -argued, could have no evil consequences, but conscience would not be -quieted. What most disturbed her was her promise to repeat the meeting. -She half decided not to keep her word, but then Alexis, tired of -waiting, might go to seek the blacksmiths daughter in the village and -find the real Akulina--a stout, pockmarked girl--and so discover the -hoax. Alarmed at this she determined to re-enact the part of Akulina. -Alexis was enchanted. All day he thought about his new acquaintance -and at night he dreamt of her. It was scarcely dawn when he was up and -dressed. Without waiting even to load his gun he set out followed by -the faithful Shogar, and ran to the meeting place. Half an hour passed -in undeniable delay. At last he caught a glimpse of a blue _sarafan_ -among the bushes and rushed to meet dear Akulina. She smiled to see his -eagerness; but he saw traces of anxiety and melancholy on her face. He -asked her the cause, and she at last confessed. She had been flighty -and was very sorry for it. She had meant not to keep her promise, and -this meeting at any rate must be the last. She begged him not to seek -to continue an acquaintance which could have no good end. All this, -of course, was said in peasant dialect; but the thought and feeling -struck Alexis as unusual in a peasant. In eloquent words he urged -her to abandon this cruel resolution. She should have no reason for -repentance; he would obey her in everything, if only she would not rob -him of his one happiness and let him see her alone three times or even -only twice a week. He spoke with passion, and at the moment he was -really in love. Lisa listened to him in silence. - -"Promise," she said, "to seek no other meetings with me but those which -I myself appoint." - -He was about to swear by the Holy Friday when she stopped him with a -smile. - -"I do not want you to swear. Your word is enough." - -Then together they wandered talking in the wood, till Lisa said: - -"It is time." - -They parted; and Alexis was left to wonder how in two meetings a simple -rustic had gained such influence over him. There was a freshness and -novelty about it all that charmed him, and though the conditions -she imposed were irksome, the thought of breaking his promise never -even entered his mind. After all, in spite of his fatal ring and the -mysterious correspondence, Alexis was a kind and affectionate youth, -with a pure heart still capable of innocent enjoyment. Did I consult -only my own wishes I should dwell at length on the meetings of these -young people, their growing love, their mutual trust, and all they did -and all they said. But my pleasure I know would not be shared by the -majority of my readers; so for their sake I will omit them. I will -only say that in a brief two months Alexis was already madly in love, -and Lisa, though more reticent than he was, not indifferent. Happy -in the present they took little thought for the future. Visions of -indissoluble ties flitted not seldom through the minds of both. But -neither mentioned them. For Alexis, however strong his attachment to -Akulina, could not forget the social distance that was between them, -while Lisa, knowing the enmity between their fathers, dared not count -on their becoming reconciled. Besides, her vanity was stimulated by the -vague romantic hope of at last seeing the lord of Tugilovo at the feet -of the daughter of a village blacksmith. Suddenly something happened -which came near to change the course of their true love. One of those -cold bright mornings so common in our Russian autumns Ivan Berestoff -came a-riding. For all emergencies he brought with him six pointers -and a dozen beaters. That same morning Grigori Muromsky, tempted by -the fine weather, saddled his English mare and came trotting through -his agricultural estates. Nearing the wood he came upon his neighbour -proudly seated in the saddle wearing his fur-lined overcoat. Ivan -Berestoff was waiting for the hare which the beaters were driving with -discordant noises out of the brushwood. If Muromsky could have foreseen -this meeting he would have avoided it. But finding himself suddenly -within pistol-shot there was no escape. Like a cultivated European -gentleman, Muromsky rode up to and addressed his enemy politely. -Berestoff answered with the grace of a chained bear dancing to the -order of his keeper. At this moment out shot the hare and scudded -across the field. Berestoff and his groom shouted to loose the dogs, -and started after them full speed. Muromsky's mare took fright and -bolted. Her rider, who often boasted of his horsemanship, gave her -her head and chuckled inwardly over this opportunity of escaping a -disagreeable companion. But the mare coming at a gallop to an unseen -ditch swerved. Muromsky lost his seat, fell rather heavily on the -frozen ground, and lay there cursing the animal, which, sobered by the -loss of her master, stopped at once. Berestoff galloped to the rescue, -asking if Muromsky was hurt. Meanwhile the groom led up the culprit by -the bridle. Berestoff helped Muromsky into the saddle and then invited -him to his house. Peeling himself under an obligation Muromsky could -not refuse, and so Berestoff returned in glory, having killed the hare -and bringing home with him his adversary wounded and almost a prisoner -of war. - -At breakfast the neighbours fell into rather friendly conversation; -Muromsky asked Berestoff to lend him a droshky, confessing that his -fall made it too painful for him to ride back. Berestoff accompanied -him to the outer gate, and before the leavetaking was over Muromsky -Pad obtained from him a promise to come and bring Alexis to a friendly -dinner at Prelutchina next day. So this old enmity which seemed before -so deeply rooted was on the point of ending because the little mare had -taken fright. - -Lisa ran to meet Per father on his return. - -"What has happened, papa?" she asked in astonishment. "Why are you -limping? Where is the mare? Whose droshki is this?" - -"My dear, you will never guess;"--and then he told Per. - -Lisa could not believe Per ears. Before she Pad time to collect herself -she heard that to-morrow both the Berestoffs would come to dinner. - -"What do you say?" she exclaimed, turning pale. "The Berestoffs, father -and son! Dine with us to-morrow! No, papa, you can do as you please, I -certainly do not appear." - -"Why? Are you mad? Since when have you become so shy? Have you imbibed -hereditary hatred like a heroine of romance? Come, don't be afoot." - -"No, papa, nothing on earth shall induce me to meet the Berestoffs." - -Her father shrugged his shoulders, and left off arguing. He knew he -could not prevail with her by opposition, so he went to bed after his -memorable ride. Lisa, too, went to her room, and summoned Nastia. -Long did they discuss the coming visit. What will Alexis think on -recognising in the cultivated young lady his Akulina? What opinion will -he form as to her behaviour and her sense? On the other hand, Lisa was -very curious to see how such an unexpected meeting would affect him. -Then an idea struck her. She told it to Nastia, and with rejoicing they -determined to carry it into effect. - -Next morning at breakfast Muromsky asked his daughter whether she still -meant to hide from the Berestoffs. - -"Papa," she answered, "I will receive them if you wish it, on one -condition. However I may appear before them, whatever I may do, you -must promise me not to be angry, and you must show no surprise or -disapproval." - -"At your tricks again!" exclaimed Muromsky, laughing. "Well, well, I -consent; do as you please, my black-eyed mischief." With these words -he kissed her forehead, and Lisa ran off to make her preparations. - -Punctually at two, six horses, drawing the home-made carriage, drove -into the courtyard, and skirted the circle of green turf that formed -its centre. - -Old Berestoff, helped by two of Muromsky's servants in livery, mounted -the steps. His son followed immediately on horseback, and the two -together entered the dining-room, where the table was already laid. - -Muromsky gave his guests a cordial welcome, and proposing a tour of -inspection of the garden and live stock before dinner, led them along -his well-swept gravel paths. - -Old Berestoff secretly deplored the time and trouble wasted on such a -useless whim as this Anglo-mania, but politeness forbade him to express -his feelings. - -His son shared neither the disapproval of the careful farmer, nor the -enthusiasm of the complacent Anglo-maniac. He impatiently awaited the -appearance of his hosts daughter, of whom he had often heard; for, -though his heart as we know was no longer free, a young and unknown -beauty might still claim his interest. - -When they had come back and were all seated in the drawing-room, -the old men talked over bygone days, re-telling the stories of the -mess-room, while Alexis considered what attitude he should assume -towards Lisa. He decided upon a cold preoccupation as most suitable, -and arranged accordingly. - -The door opened, he turned his head round with indifference--with such -proud indifference--that the heart of the most hardened coquette must -have quivered. Unfortunately there came in not Lisa but elderly Miss -Jackson, whitened, laced in, with downcast eyes and her little curtsey, -and Alexis' magnificent military movement failed. Before he could -reassemble his scattered forces the door opened again and this time -entered Lisa. All rose, Muromsky began the introductions, but suddenly -stopped and bit his lip. Lisa, his dark Lisa, was painted white up -to her ears, and pencilled worse than Miss Jackson herself. She wore -false fair ringlets, puffed out like a Louis XIV. wig; her sleeves _a -l'imbecille_ extended like the hoops of Madame de Pompadour. Her figure -was laced in like a letter X, and all those of her mother's diamonds -which had escaped the pawnbroker sparkled on her fingers, neck, and -ears. Alexis could not discover in this ridiculous young lady his -Akulina. His father kissed her hand, and he, much to his annoyance, -had to do the same. As he touched her little white fingers they seemed -to tremble. He noticed, too, a tiny foot intentionally displayed and -shod in the most coquettish of shoes. This reconciled him a little to -the rest of her attire. The white paint and black pencilling--to tell -the truth--in his simplicity he did not notice at first, nor indeed -afterwards. - -Grigori Muromsky, remembering his promise, tried not to show surprise; -for the rest, he was so much amused at his daughter's mischief, that -he could scarcely keep his countenance. For the prim Englishwoman, -however, it was no laughing matter. She guessed that the white and -black paint had been abstracted from her drawer, and a red patch of -indignation shone through the artificial whiteness of her face. Flaming -glances shot from her eyes at the young rogue, who, reserving all -explanation for the future, pretended not to notice them. They sat down -to table, Alexis continuing his performance as an absent-minded pensive -man. Lisa was all affectation. She minced her words, drawled, and would -speak only in French. Her father glanced at her from time to time, -unable to divine her object, but he thought it all a great joke. The -Englishwoman fumed, but said nothing. Ivan Berestoff alone felt at his -ease. He ate for two, drank his fill, and as the meal went on became -more and more friendly, and laughed louder and louder. - -At last they rose from the table. The guests departed and Muromsky gave -vent to his mirth and curiosity. - -"What made you play such tricks upon them?" he inquired. "Do you know, -Lisa, that white paint really becomes you? I do not wish to pry into -the secrets of a lady's toilet, but if I were you I should always -paint, not too much, of course, but a little." - -Lisa was delighted with her success. She kissed her father, promised -to consider his suggestion, and ran off to propitiate the enraged Miss -Jackson, whom she could scarcely prevail upon to open the door and hear -her excuses. - -Lisa was ashamed, she said, to show herself before the visitors--such a -blackamoor. She had not dared to ask; she knew dear kind Miss Jackson -would forgive her. - -Miss Jackson, persuaded that her pupil had not meant to ridicule her, -became pacified, kissed Lisa, and in token of forgiveness presented her -with a little pot of English white, which the latter, with expressions -of deep gratitude, accepted. - -Next morning, as the reader will have guessed, Lisa hastened to the -meeting in the wood. - -"You were yesterday at our master's, sir?" she began to Alexis. "What -did you think of our young lady?" - -Alexis answered that he had not observed her. - -"That is a pity." - -"Why?" - -"Because I wanted to ask you if what they say is true." - -"What do they say?" - -"That I resemble our young lady; do you think so?" - -"What nonsense, she is a deformity beside you!" - -"Oh! _barin,_ it is a sin of you to say so. Our young lady is so fair, -so elegant! How can I vie with her?" - -Alexis vowed that she was prettier than all imaginable fair young -ladies, and to appease her thoroughly, began describing her young lady -so funnily that Lisa burst into a hearty laugh. - -"Still," she said, with a sigh, "though she may be ridiculous, yet by -her side I am an illiterate fool." - -"Well, that _is_ a thing to worry yourself about. If you like I will -teach you to read at once." - -"Are you in earnest, shall I really try?" - -"If you like, my darling, we will begin at once." - -They sat down. Alexis produced a pencil and note-book, and Akulina -proved astonishingly quick in learning the alphabet. Alexis wondered at -her intelligence. At their next meeting she wished to learn to write. -The pencil at first would not obey her, but in a few minutes she could -trace the letters pretty well. - -"How wonderfully we get on, faster than by the Lancaster method." - -Indeed, at the third lesson Akulina could read words of even three -syllables, and the intelligent remarks with which she interrupted the -lessons fairly astonished Alexis. As for writing she covered a whole -page with aphorisms, taken from the story she had been reading. A week -passed and they had begun a correspondence. Their post-office was the -trunk of an old oak, and Nastia secretly played the part of postman. -Thither Alexis would bring his letters, written in a large round hand, -and there he found the letters of his beloved scrawled on coarse blue -paper. Akulina's style was evidently improving, and her mind clearly -was developing under cultivation. - -Meanwhile the new-made acquaintance between Berestoff and Muromsky -grew stronger, soon it became friendship. Muromsky often reflected -that on the death of old Berestoff his property would come to Alexis, -who would then be one of the richest landowners in that province. Why -should he not marry Lisa? Old Berestoff, on the other hand, though he -looked on his neighbour as a lunatic, did not deny that he possessed -many excellent qualities, among them a certain cleverness. Muromsky -was related to Count Pronsky, a distinguished and influential man. -The count might be very useful to Alexis, and Muromsky (so thought -Berestoff) would probably be glad to marry his daughter so well. Both -the old men pondered all this so thoroughly that at last they broached -the subject, confabulated, embraced, and severally began a plan of -campaign. Muromsky foresaw one difficulty--how to persuade his Betty to -make the better acquaintance of Alexis, whom she had never seen since -the memorable dinner. They hardly seemed to suit each other well. At -any rate Alexis had not renewed his visit to Prelutchina. Whenever old -Berestoff called Lisa made a point of retreating to her own room. - -"But," thought Muromsky, "if Alexis called every day Betty could not -help falling in love with him. That is the way to manage it. Time will -settle everything." - -Berestoff troubled himself less about his plans. That same evening -he called his son into his study, lit his pipe, and, after a short -silence, began: - -"You have not spoken about the army lately, Alexis. Has the Hussar -uniform lost its attraction for you?" - -"No, father," he replied respectfully. "I know you do not wish me to -join the Hussars. It is my duty to consult your wishes." - -"I am pleased to find you such an obedient son, still I do not wish -to force your inclinations. I will not insist upon your entering the -Civil Service at once; and in the meantime I mean to marry you." - -"To whom, father?" exclaimed his astonished son. - -"To Lisa Muromskaia; she is good enough for any one, isn't she?" - -"Father, I did not think of marrying just yet." - -"Perhaps not, but I have thought about it for you." - -"As you please, but I don't care about Lisa Muromskaia at all." - -"You will care about her afterwards. You will get used to her, and you -will learn to love her." - -"I feel I could not make her happy." - -"You need not trouble yourself about that. All you have to do is to -respect the wishes of your father." - -"I do not wish to marry, and I won't." - -"You shall marry or I will curse you; and, by Heaven, I will sell and -squander my property, and not leave you a farthing! I will give you -three days for reflection, and, in the meanwhile, do not dare to show -your face in my presence." - -Alexis knew that when his father took a thing into his head nothing -could knock it out again; but then Alexis was as obstinate as his -father. He went to his room and there reflected upon the limits of -parental authority, on Lisa Muromskaia, his father's threat to make him -a beggar, and finally he thought of Akulina. - -For the first time he clearly saw how much he loved her. The romantic -idea of marrying a peasant girl and working for a living came into his -mind; and the more he thought of it, the more he approved it. Their -meetings in the wood had been stopped of late by the wet weather. - -He wrote to Akulina in the roundest hand and the maddest style, telling -her of his impending ruin, and asking her to be his wife. He took -the letter at once to the tree trunk, dropped it in, and went much -satisfied with himself to bed. - -Next morning, firm in resolution, he started early to call on Muromsky -and explain the situation. He meant to win him over by appealing to his -generosity. - -"Is Mr. Muromsky at home?" he asked reining up his horse at the porch. - -"No, sir, Mr. Muromsky went out early this morning." - -How provoking, thought Alexis. - -"Well, is Miss Lisa at home?" - -"Yes, sir." - -And throwing the reins to the footman, Alexis leapt from his horse and -entered unannounced. - -"It will soon be over," he thought, going towards the drawing-room. -"I will explain to Miss Muromsky herself." He entered ... and was -transfixed. Lisa!... no, Akulina, dear, dark Akulina, wearing no -_sarafan_ but a white morning frock, sat by the window reading his -letter. So intent was she upon it that she did not hear him enter. -Alexis could not repress a cry of delight. Lisa started, raised her -hand, cried out, and attempted to run away. He rushed to stop her. -"Akulina! Akulina!" Lisa tried to free herself. - -"_Mais laissez moi donc, Monsieur! mais etes vous fou?_" she repeated, -turning away. - -"Akulina! my darling Akulina!" he repeated, kissing her hand. - -Miss Jackson, who was an eye-witness of this scene, knew not what to -think. The door opened and Grigori Muromsky entered. - -"Ah!" cried he, "you seem to have settled things between you."... - -The reader will excuse me the unnecessary trouble of winding up. - - - - -KIRDJALI. - - -Kirdjali was by birth a Bulgarian. - -Kirdjali, in Turkish, means a bold fellow, a knight-errant. - -Kirdjali with his depredations brought terror upon the whole of -Moldavia. To give some idea of him I will relate one of his exploits. -One night he and the Arnout Michailaki fell together upon a Bulgarian -village. They set fire to it from both ends and went from hut to hut, -Kirdjali killing, while Michailaki carried off the plunder. Both cried, -"Kirdjali! Kirdjali!" and the whole village ran. - -When Alexander Ipsilanti proclaimed the insurrection and began raising -his army, Kirdjali brought him several of his old followers. They -knew little of the real object of the _hetairi._ But war presented an -opportunity for getting rich at the expense of the Turks, and perhaps -of the Moldavians too. - -Alexander Ipsilanti was personally brave, but he was wanting in -the qualities necessary for playing the part he had with such eager -recklessness assumed. He did not know how to manage the people under -his command. They had neither respect for him nor confidence. - -After the unfortunate battle, when the flower of Greek youth fell, -Jordaki Olimbisti advised him to retire, and himself took his place. -Ipsilanti escaped to the frontiers of Austria, whence he sent his -curse to the people whom he now stigmatised as mutineers, cowards, and -blackguards. These cowards and blackguards mostly perished within the -walls of the monastery of Seke, or on the banks of the Pruth, defending -themselves desperately against a foe ten times their number. - -Kirdjali belonged to the detachment commanded by George Cantacuzene, of -whom might be repeated what has already been said of Ipsilanti. - -On the eve of the battle near Skuliana, Cantacuzene asked permission -of the Russian authorities to enter their quarters. The band was left -without a commander. But Kirdjali, Sophianos, Cantagoni, and others had -no need of a commander. - -The battle of Skuliana seems not to have been described by any one in -all its pathetic truth. Just imagine seven hundred Arnouts, Albanians, -Greeks, Bulgarians, and every kind of rabble, with no notion of -military art, retreating within sight of fifteen thousand Turkish -cavalry. The band kept close to the banks of the Pruth, placing in -front two tiny cannons, found at Jassy, in the courtyard of the -Hospodar, and which had formerly been used for firing salutes on -festive occasions. - -The Turks would have been glad to use their cartridges, but dared not -without permission from the Russian authorities; for the shots would -have been sure to fly over to our banks. The commander of the Russian -military post (now dead), though he had been forty years in the army, -had never heard the whistle of a bullet; but he was fated to hear it -now. Several bullets buzzed passed his ears. The old man got very angry -and began to swear at Ohotsky, major of one of the infantry battalions. -The major, not knowing what to do, ran towards the river, on the other -side of which some insurgent cavalry were capering about. He shook his -finger at them, on which they turned round and galloped along, with -the whole Turkish army after them. The major who had shaken his finger -was called Hortchevsky. I don't know what became of him. The next day, -however, the Turks attacked the Arnouts. Hot daring to use cartridges -or cannon balls, they resolved, contrary to their custom, to employ -cold steel. The battle was fierce. The combatants slashed and stabbed -one another. - -The Turks were seen with lances, which, hitherto they had never -possessed, and these lances were Russian. Our Nekrassoff refugees were -fighting in their ranks. The _hetairi,_ thanks to the permission of our -Emperor, were allowed to cross the Pruth and seek the protection of our -garrison. They began to cross the river, Cantagoni and Sophianos being -the last to quit the Turkish bank; Kirdjali, wounded the day before, -was already lying in Russian quarters. Sophianos was killed. Cantagoni, -a very stout man, was wounded with a spear in his stomach. With one -hand he raised his sword, with the other he seized the enemy's spear, -pushed it deeper into himself, and by that means was able to reach his -murderer with his own sword, when they fell together. - -All was over. The Turks remained victorious, Moldavia was cleared of -insurgents. About six hundred Arnouts were scattered over Bessarabia. -Unable to obtain the means of subsistence, they still felt grateful -to Russia for her protection. They led an idle though not a dissolute -life. They could be seen in coffee-houses of half Turkish Bessarabia, -with long pipes in their mouths sipping thick coffee out of small cups. -Their figured Zouave jackets and red slippers with pointed toes were -beginning to look shabby. But they still wore their tufted scull-cap -on one side of the head; and daggers and pistols still protruded -from beneath, their broad girdles. No one complained of them. It -was impossible to imagine that these poor, peaceable fellows were -the celebrated pikemen of Moldavia, the followers of the ferocious -Kirdjali, and that he himself had been one of them. - -The Pasha governing Jassy heard of all this, and, on the basis of -treaty rights, requested the Russian authorities to deliver up the -brigand. The police made inquiries, and found that Kirdjali really was -at Kishineff. They captured him in the house of a runaway monk in the -evening, while he was at supper, sitting in the twilight with seven -comrades. - -Kirdjali was arraigned. He did not attempt to conceal the truth. He -owned he was Kirdjali. - -"But," he added, "since I crossed the Pruth, I have not touched a -hair of property that did not belong to me, nor have I cheated the -meanest gipsy. To the Turks, the Moldavians, and the Walachians I am -certainly a brigand, but to the Russians a guest. When Sophianos, after -exhausting all his cartridges, came over here, he collected buttons -from the uniforms, nails, watch-chains, and nobs from the daggers for -the final discharge, and I myself handed him twenty _beshleks_ to fire -off, leaving myself without money. God is my witness that I, Kirdjali, -lived by charity. Why then do the Russians now hand me over to my -enemies?" - -After that Kirdjali was silent, and quietly awaited his fate. It was -soon announced to him. The authorities, not thinking themselves hound -to look upon brigandage from its romantic side, and admitting the -justice of the Turkish demand, ordered Kirdjali to be given up that he -might be sent to Jassy. - -A man of brains and feeling, at that time young and unknown, but -now occupying an important post, gave me a graphic description of -Kirdjali's departure. - -"At the gates of the prison," he said, "stood a hired _karutsa._ -Perhaps you don't know what a _karutsa_ is? It is a low -basket-carriage, to which quite recently used to be harnessed six or -eight miserable screws. A Moldavian, with a moustache and a sheepskin -hat, sitting astride one of the horses, cried out and cracked his whip -every moment, and his wretched little beasts went on at a sharp trot. -If one of them began to lag, then he unharnessed it with terrific -cursing and left it on the road, not caring what became of it. On the -return journey he was sure to find them in the same place, calmly -grazing on the steppes. Frequently a traveller starting from a station -with eight horses would arrive at the next with a pair only. It was -so about fifteen years ago. Now in Russianized Bessarabia, Russian -harness and Russian _telegas_ (carts) have been adopted. - -"Such a _karutsa_ as I have described stood at the gate of the jail in -1821, towards the end of September. Jewesses with their sleeves hanging -down and with flapping slippers, Arnouts in ragged but picturesque -costumes, stately Moldavian women with black-eyed children in their -arms, surrounded the _harutsa._ The men maintained silence. The women -were excited, as if expecting something to happen. - -"The gates opened, and several police officers stepped into the street, -followed by two soldiers leading Kirdjali in chains. - -"He looked about thirty. The features of his dark face were regular and -austere. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and seemed to possess great -physical strength. He wore a variegated turban on the side of his head, -and a broad sash round his slender waist. A dolman of thick, dark blue -cloth, the wide plaits of his over-shirt falling just above the knees, -and a pair of handsome slippers completed his dress. His bearing was -calm and haughty. - -"One of the officials, a red-faced old man in a faded uniform, with -three buttons hanging loose, a pair of lead spectacles which pinched -a crimson knob doing duty for a nose, unrolled a paper, and stooping, -began to read in the Moldavian tongue. From time to time he glanced -haughtily at the handcuffed Kirdjali, to whom apparently the document -referred. Kirdjali listened attentively. The official finished his -reading, folded the paper, and called out sternly to the people, -ordering them to make way for the _karutsa_ to drive up. Then Kirdjali, -turning towards him, said a few words in Moldavian; his voice trembled, -his countenance changed, he burst into tears, and fell at the feet of -the police officer, with a clanking of his chains. The police officer, -in alarm, started back; the soldiers were going to raise Kirdjali, but -he got up of his own accord, gathered up his chains, and stepping into -the _harutsa_, cried _egaida!'_ - -"The gens d'armes got in by his side, the Moldavian cracked his whip, -and the _karutsa_ rolled away. - -"What was Kirdjali saying to you? inquired a young official of the -police officer. - -"He asked me," replied the officer, smiling, "to take care of his -wife and child, who live a short distance from Kilia, in a Bulgarian -village; he is afraid they might suffer through him. The rabble are so -ignorant!'" - -The young official's story affected me greatly. I was sorry for poor -Kirdjali. For a long while I knew nothing of his fate. Many years -afterwards I met the young official. We began talking of old times. - -"How about your friend Kirdjali?" I asked. "Do you know what became of -him?" - -"Of course I do," he replied, and he told me the following. - -After being brought to Jassy, Kirdjali was taken before the Pasha, -who condemned him to be impaled. The execution was postponed till -some feast day. Meanwhile he was put in confinement. The prisoner was -guarded by seven Turks--common people, and at the bottom of their -hearts brigands like himself. They respected him and listened with -the eagerness of true orientals to his wonderful stories. Between the -guards and their prisoner a close friendship sprang up. On one occasion -Kirdjali said to them: - -"Brothers! My hour is near. No one can escape his doom. I shall soon -part from you, and I should like to leave you something in remembrance -of me." The Turks opened their ears. - -"Brothers;" added Kirdjali, "three years back, when I was engaged in -brigandage with the late Mihailaki, we buried in the Steppes, not far -from Jassy, a kettle with some coins in it. Seemingly, neither he nor -I will ever possess that treasure. So be it; take it to yourselves and -divide it amicably." - -The Turks nearly went crazy. They began considering how they could find -the spot so vaguely indicated. They thought and thought, and at last -decided that Kirdjali must himself show them. - -Night set in. The Turks took off the fetters that weighed upon the -prisoner's feet, hound his hands with a rope, and taking him with them, -started for the Steppes. Kirdjali led them, going in a straight line -from one mound to another. They walked about for some time. At last -Kirdjali stopped close to a broad stone, measured a dozen steps to the -south, stamped, and said, "Here." - -The Turks arranged themselves for work. Four took out their daggers and -began digging the earth, while three remained on guard. Kirdjali sat -down on the stone, and looked on. - -"Well, now, shall you be long?" he inquired; "have you found it?" - -"Not yet," replied the Turks, and they worked away till the -perspiration rolled like hail from them. - -Kirdjali grew impatient. - -"What people!" he exclaimed; "they can't even dig decently. Why, I -should have found it in two minutes. Children! Untie my hands, and give -me a dagger." - -The Turks reflected, and began to consult with one another. - -"Why not?" they concluded. "We will release his hands, and give him a -dagger. What can it matter? He is only one, while we are seven." - -And the Turks unbound his bands and gave him a dagger. - -At last Kirdjali was free and armed. What must have been his -sensations. He began digging rapidly, the guard assisting. Suddenly he -thrust his dagger into one of them, leaving the blade sticking in the -man's breast; he snatched from his girdle a couple of pistols. - -The remaining six, seeing Kirdjali armed with two pistols, ran away. - -Kirdjali is now carrying on his brigandage near Jassy. Not long ago -he wrote to the Hospodar, demanding from him five thousand louis, and -threatening, in the event of the money not being paid, to set fire to -Jassy, and to reach the Hospodar himself. The five thousand louis were -forwarded to him. - -A fine fellow Kirdjali! - - - - -THE HISTORY OF THE VILLAGE OF GOROHINA. - - -Of all professions that of a man of letters has always seemed to me -most enviable. - -My parents, respectable but humble folk, had been brought up in the old -fashion. They never read anything; and beyond an alphabet (bought for -me), an almanack, and the latest letter-writer, they had no books in -the house. - -The letter-writer had long provided me with entertainment. I knew it by -heart, yet daily found in it fresh beauties; and next to General N----, -to whom my father had been _aide-de-camp,_ Kurganoff, its author, was, -in my estimation, one of the greatest men. I questioned everyone about -him; but unhappily no one could gratify my curiosity. Nobody knew him -personally. To all my questioning the reply was that Kurganoff was the -author of the latest letter-writer, but that I knew already. He was -wrapped in darkness and mystery like some ancient demi-god. At times -I doubted even his existence. His name was perhaps an invention, the -legend about him an empty myth awaiting the investigation of some -new Niebuhr. Nevertheless he dogged my imagination. I tried to give -some form to this very personage, and finally decided that he must be -like the land-judge, Koriuchkin, a little old man with a red nose and -glittering eyes. - -In 1812 I was taken to Moscow and placed at a boarding school belonging -to Karl Ivanovitch Meyer. There I stayed only some three months, -because the school broke up in anticipation of the enemy's coming. I -returned to the country. - - * * * * * - -This epoch of my life was to me so important that I shall dilate upon -it, apologizing beforehand if I trespass upon the good nature of the -reader. - -It was a dull autumn day. On reaching the station whence I must turn -off to Gorohina (that was the name of our village) I engaged horses, -and drove off by the country road. Though naturally calm, so impatient -was I to revisit the scenes where I had passed the best years of my -life, that I kept urging the driver to quicken speed with alternate -promises of vodka and threats of chastisement. How much easier it was -to belabour him than to unloose my purse. I own I struck him twice or -thrice, a thing I had never done in my life before. I don't know why, -but I had a great liking for drivers as a class. - -The driver urged his troika to a quicker pace, but to me it seemed that -public-driver-like he coaxed the horses and waved his whip but at the -same time tightened the reins. At last I caught sight of Gorohina wood, -and in ten minutes more we drove into the courtyard of the manor house. - -My heart beat violently. I looked round with unwonted emotion. For -eight years I had not seen Gorohina. The little birches which I had -seen planted near the palings had now grown into tall branching trees. -The courtyard, once adorned with three regular flower beds divided by -broad gravel paths, was now an unmown meadow, the grazing land of a red -cow. - -My britchka stopped at the front door. My servant went to open it, but -it was fastened; yet the shutters were open, and the house seemed to be -inhabited. A woman emerging from a servant's hut asked what I wanted. -Hearing the master had arrived, she ran back into the hut, and soon -I had all the inhabitants of the courtyard around me. I was deeply -touched to see the known and unknown faces, and I greeted each with a -friendly kiss. - -The boys my playmates had grown to men. The girls who used to squat -upon the floor and run with such alacrity on errands were married -women. The men wept. To the women I said unceremoniously: - -"How you have aged." And they answered sadly: - -"And you, little father, how plain you have grown." - -They led me towards the back entrance; I was met by my old -wet-nurse, by whom I was welcomed back with sobs and tears, like the -much-suffering Ulysses. They hastened to heat the bath. The cook, who -in his long holiday had grown a beard, offered to cook my dinner or -supper, for it was growing dark. The rooms hitherto occupied by my -nurse and my late mother's maids were at once got ready for me. Thus I -found myself in the humble home of my parents, and fell asleep in that -room where three-and-twenty years before I had been born. - -Some three weeks passed in business of various kinds. I was engaged -with land judges, presidents, and every imaginable official of the -province. Finally I got possession of my inheritance. I was contented: -but soon the dulness of inaction began to torment me. I was not -yet acquainted with my kind and venerable neighbour N---- Domestic -occupations were altogether strange to me. The conversation of my -nurse, whom I promoted to the rank of housekeeper, consisted of fifteen -family anecdotes. I found them very interesting, but as she always -related them in the same way she soon became for me another Niebuhr -letter-writer, in which I knew precisely on what page every particular -line occurred. That worthy book I found in the storeroom among a -quantity of rubbish sadly dilapidated. I brought it out into the light -and began to read it; but Kurganoff had lost his charm. I read him -through once more and never after opened him again. - -In this extremity it struck me: - -"Why not write myself?" The reader has been already told that I was -educated on copper money. Besides, to become an author seemed so -difficult, so unattainable, that the idea of writing quite frightened -me at first. Dare I hope ever to be numbered amongst writers, when my -ardent wish even to meet one had not yet been gratified? This reminds -me of something which I shall tell to show my unbounded enthusiasm for -my native literature. - -In 1820, while yet an ensign, I chanced to be on government business at -Petersburg. I stayed a week; and although I had not one acquaintance -in he place, I passed the time very pleasantly. I went daily to the -theatre, modestly to the fourth row in the gallery. I learnt the -names of all the actors and fell passionately in love with B----. She -had played one Sunday with great artistic feeling as Eulalie in _Hass -und Reue_ (in English _The Stranger._) In the morning, on my way from -headquarters, I would call at a small confectioner's, drink a cup of -chocolate, and read a literary journal. One day, while thus deep in an -article "by Goodintention, some one in a pea-green greatcoat suddenly -approached and gently withdrew the _Hamburg Gazette_ from under my -newspaper. I was so occupied that I did not look up. The stranger -ordered a steak and sat down facing me. I went on reading without -noticing him. - -Meanwhile he finished his luncheon, scolded the waiter for some -carelessness, drank half a bottle of wine, and left. Two young men were -also lunching. - -"Do you know who that was?" inquired one of them. - -"That was Goodintention ... the writer." - -"The writer!" I exclaimed involuntarily, and leaving the article unread -and the cup of chocolate undrunk, I hastily paid my reckoning, and -without waiting for the change rushed into the street. Looking round I -descried in the distance the pea-green coat and dashed along the Nevsky -Prospect almost at a run. When I had gone several steps I felt myself -stopped by some one, and looking back I found I had been noticed by an -officer of the guards. I; ought not to have knocked against him on the -pavement, but rather to have stopped and saluted. After this reprimand -I was more careful. Unluckily I met an officer every moment, and every -moment I had to stop, while the author got farther and farther away. -Never before had my soldier's overcoat proved so irksome, never had -epaulettes appeared so enviable. At last near the Annitchkin Bridge I -came up with the pea-green greatcoat. - -"May I inquire," I said, saluting, "are you Mr. Goodintention, whose -excellent article I have had the pleasure of reading in the _Zealous -Enlightener?_" - -"Not at all," he replied. "I am not a writer but a lawyer. But I know -Goodintention very well. A quarter of an hour ago I passed him at the -Police Bridge." In this way my respect for Russian letters cost me -80 kopecks of change, an official reprimand, and a narrow escape of -arrest, and all in vain. - -In spite of all the protest of my reason, the audacious thought of -becoming a writer kept recurring. At last, unable longer to resist it, -I made a thick copy book and resolved to fill it somehow. All kinds -of poems (humble prose did not yet enter into my reckoning) were in -turn considered and approved. I decided to write an epic furnished on -Russian history. I was not long in finding a hero. I chose Rurik, and I -set to work. - -I had acquired a certain aptitude for rhymes, by copying those in -manuscript which used to circulate among our officers, such as the -criticism on the Moscow Boulevards, the Presnensky Ponds, and the -Dangerous Neighbour. In spite of that my poem progressed slowly, -and at the third verse I dropped it. I concluded that the epic was -not my style, and began _Rurik_, _a Tragedy._ The tragedy halted. I -turned it into a ballad, but the ballad hardly seemed to do. At last -I had a happy thought. I began and succeeded in finishing an ode to a -portrait of Rurik. Despite the inauspicious character of such a title, -particularly for a young bard's first work, I yet felt that I had not -been born a poet, and after this first attempt desisted. These essays -in authorship gave me so great a taste for writing that I could now no -longer abstain from paper and ink. I could descend to prose. But at -first I wished to avoid the preliminary construction of a plot and the -connection of parts. I resolved to write detached thoughts without any -connection or order, just as they struck me. Unfortunately the thoughts -would not come, and in the course of two whole days the only thought -that struck me was the following: - -He who disobeys reason and yields to the inclination of his passions -often goes wrong and ends by repenting when it is too late. - -This though no doubt true enough was not original. - -Abandoning aphorism I took to tales; but being too unpractised in -arranging incidents I selected such remarkable occurrences as I had -heard of at various times and tried to ornament the truth by a lively -style and the flowers of my own imagination. Composing these tales -little by little, I formed my style and learnt to express myself -correctly, pleasantly, and freely. My stock was soon exhausted, and I -again began to seek a subject. - -To abandon these childish anecdotes of doubtful authenticity, and -narrate real and great events instead, was an idea by which I had long -been haunted. - -To be the judge, the observer, and the prophet of ages and of peoples -seemed to me a most attainable object of ambition to a writer. What -history could I write--I with my pitiable education? Where was I not -forestalled by highly cultivated and conscientious men? What history -had they left unexhausted. Should I write a universal history? But was -there not already the immortal work of Abbe Millot. A national history -of Russia, what could I say after Tatishtcheff Bolitin and Golikoff? -And was it for me to burrow amongst records and to penetrate the -occult meaning of a dead language--for me who could never master the -Slavonian alphabet? Why not try a history on a smaller scale?--for -instance, the history of our town! But even here how very numerous -and insuperable seemed the obstacles--a journey to the town, a visit -to the governor and the bishop, permission to examine the archives, -the monastery, the cellars, and so on. The history of our town would -have been easier; but it could interest neither the philosopher nor -the artist, and afford but little opening for eloquence. The only -noteworthy record in its annals relates to a terrible fire ten years -ago which burnt the bazaar and the courts of justice. An accident -settled my doubts. A woman hanging linen in a loft found an old -basket full of shavings, dust, and books. The whole household knew my -passion for reading. My housekeeper while I sat over my paper gnawing -my pen and meditating on the experience of country prophets entered -triumphantly dragging a basket into my room, and bringing joyfully -"books! books!" - -Books! I repeated in delight as I rushed to the basket. Actually a pile -of them with covers of green and of blue paper. It was a collection of -old almanacks. My ardour was cooled by the discovery, still they were -books, and I generously rewarded her pains with half a silver ruble. - -When she had gone I began to examine my almanacks; I soon became -absorbed. They formed a complete series from 1744 to 1799 including -exactly 55 years. The blue sheets of paper usually bound in the -almanacks were covered with old-fashioned handwriting. Skimming these -lines I noticed with surprise that besides remarks on the weather -and accounts they contained scraps of historical information about -the village of Gorohina. Among these valuable documents I began my -researches, and soon found that they presented a full history of my -native place for nearly a century, in chronological order, besides an -exhaustive store of economical, statistical, meteorological, and other -learned information. Thenceforth the study of these documents took up -my time, for I perceived that from them a stately, instructive, and -interesting history could be made. As I became sufficiently acquainted -with these valuable notes, I began to search for new sources of -information about the village of Gorohina, and I soon became astonished -at the wealth of material. After devoting six months to a preliminary -study of them, I at last began the long wished for work; and by God's -grace completed the same on the 3rd of November, 1827. To-day, like a -fellow-historian, whose name I do not recollect, having finished my -hard task, I lay down my pen and sadly walk into my garden to meditate -upon my performance. It seems even to me that now the history of -Gorohina is finished I am no longer wanted in the world. My task is -ended; and it is time for me to die. - - * * * * * - -I add a list of the sources whence I drew the history of Gorohina. - -I. A collection of ancient almanacks in fifty fifty--five parts. Of -these the first twenty are covered with an old-fashioned writing; -much abbreviated. The manuscript is that of my grandfather; Andrei -Stepanovitch Belkin; and is remarkably clear and concise. For example: -4th of May. Snow. - -Trishka for his impertinence beaten. 6th. The red cow died. Senka for -drunkenness beaten. 8th. A fine day. 9th. Rain and snow. Trishka for -drunkenness beaten.... and so on without comment. 11th. The weather -fine, first snow; hunted three hares. The remaining thirty-five parts -were in various hands mostly commercial with or without abbreviations, -usually profuse; disjointed; and incorrectly written. Here and there a -feminine handwriting appeared. In these years occurred my grandfather's -notes about his wife Bupraxic Aleksevna; others written by her and -others by the steward Grobovitsky. - -II. The notes of the Gorohina church clerk. This curious manuscript -was discovered by me at the house of my priest; who has married the -daughter of the writer. The first earlier sheets had been torn out and -used by the priests children for making kites. One of these had fallen -in the middle of my yard. I picked it up? and was about to restore it -to the children when I noticed that it was written on. From the first -lines I saw that the kite was made out of some one's journal. Luckily I -was in time to save the rest. These journals, which I got for a measure -of oats, are remarkable for depth of thought and dignity of expression. - -III. Oral legends. I despised no source of information, but I am -specially indebted for much of this to Agrafena Tryphonovna, the mother -of Avdei the starosta and reputed mistress of the steward Grobovitsky. - -IV. Registry reports with remarks by the former _starosta_ on the -morality and condition of the peasants. - -"31st October, 1830. Fabulous Times. The Starosta Tryphon." - -The foundation of Gorohina and the history of its original inhabitants -are lost in obscurity. Dark legend tells how that Gorohina was once a -large and wealthy village, that all its inhabitants were rich, that -the obrok (the land proprietor's tithes) was collected once a year and -carted off in loads no one knew to whom. At that time everything was -bought cheap and sold dear. There were no stewards, and the elders -dealt fairly by all. The inhabitants worked little and lived merrily. -The shepherds as they watched their flocks wore boots. We must not be -deceived by this charming picture. The notion of a golden age is common -to all nations, and only proves that as people are never contented with -the present, and derive from experience small hope for the future, -they adorn the irrevocable past with all the hues of fancy. What is -certain, however, is that the village of Gorohina from ancient times -has belonged to the distinguished race of Belkins. But these ancestors -of mine had many other estates, and paid but little attention to this -remote village. Gorohina paid small tithe and was managed by elders -elected by the people in common council. - -At that early period the inheritance of the Belkins was broken up, and -fell in value. The impoverished grandchildren of the rich grandsire, -unable to give up their luxurious habits, required from an estate now -only producing one tenth of its former revenue the full income of -former times. Threats followed threats. The starosta read them out in -common council. The elders declaimed, the commune agitated, and the -masters, instead of the double tithes, received tiresome excuses and -humble complaints written on dirty paper and sealed with a _polushka_ -(less than a farthing). - -A sombre cloud hung over Gorohina; but no one heeded it. In the last -year of Tryphon's power, the last of the starostas chosen by the -people, the day of the church festival, when the whole population -either crowded noisily round the house of entertainment (the -public-house) or wandered through the streets embracing one another -or loudly singing the songs of Arhip the Bald, there drove into the -courtyard a covered hired _britchka_ drawn by a couple of half-dead -screws, with a ragged Jew upon the box. From the britchka a head in a -cap looked out and seemed to peer curiously at the merry-making crowd. -The inhabitants greeted the carriage with laughter and rude jokes. -With the flaps of their coats turned up the madmen mocked the Jewish -driver, shouting in doggrell rhyme, "Jew, Jew, eat a pig's ear." But -how great was their astonishment (wrote the clerk) when the carriage -stopped in the middle of the village and the occupant jumped out, and -in an authoritative voice called for the starosta Tryphon. This officer -was in the house of pleasure, whence two elders led him forth holding -him under the arms. The stranger looked at him sternly, handed him a -letter, and told him to read it at once. The starostas of Gorohina -were in the habit of never reading anything themselves. The rural -clerk Avdei was sent for. He was found asleep under a hedge and was -brought before the stranger. But either from the sudden fright or from -a sad fore-boding, the words distinctly written in the letter appeared -to him in a mist, and he could not read them. The stranger sent the -starosta Tryphon and the rural clerk Avdei with terrible curses to -bed, postponing the reading of the letter till the morrow and entered -the office hut, whither the Jew carried his small trunk. The people -of Gorohina looked in amazement at this unusual incident, but the -carriage, the stranger, and the Jew were quickly forgotten. They ended -their day with noise and merriment, and Gorohina went to sleep without -presentiments of the future. - -At sunrise the inhabitants were awakened with knockings at the windows -and a call to a meeting of the commune. The citizens one after the -other appeared in the courtyard round the office hut, which served as -a council ground. Their eyes were dim and red, their faces swollen; -yawning and scratching their heads, they stared at the man with the -cap, in an old blue caftan, standing pompously on the steps of the -office hut, while they tried to recollect his features, which they -seemed to have seen some time or another. - -The starosta and his clerk Avdei stood by his side, bareheaded, with -the same expression of dejection and sorrow. - -"Are all here?" inquired the stranger. - -"Are all here?" repeated the starosta. - -"The whole hundred," replied the citizens, when, the starosta informed -them that he had received a letter from the master, and, directed the -clerk to read it aloud to the commune. Avdei stepped forward and read -as follows: - -N.B. This alarming document, which he kept carefully shut up in the -icon-case, together with other memorandum of his authority over the -people of Gorohina, I copied at the house of Tryphon, our starosta. - - "TRYPHON IVANOFF, - - "The bearer of this letter, my agent.... is going to my patrimony, - the village of Gorohina, to assume the management of it. Directly he - arrives assemble the peasants and make known to them their master's - wishes; namely, that they are to obey my agent as they would myself, - and attend to his orders without demur; otherwise he is empowered to - treat them with great severity. I have been forced to take this step - by their shameless disobedience and your, Tryphon Ivanoff, roguish - indulgence. - - "(Signed) NIKOLAI _N...._ - -Then the agent, with his legs extended like an X and his arms akimbo -like a phitab, addressed to them the following pithy speech: "See that -you are not too troublesome, or I will certainly beat the folly out -of your heads quicker than the fumes of yesterday's drink." There -were no longer any fumes left in the head of any man of Gorohina. All -were dumbfounded, hung their noses, and dispersed in fear to their own -houses. The agent seized the reins of government, called for the list -of peasants, divided them into rich and poor, and began to carry into -effect his political system, which deserves particular description. It -was founded upon the following maxims: That the richer a peasant, the -more fractious he grows, and the poorer, the quieter. - -Consequently, like a good Christian, I cared most for the peace of the -estate. - -First, the deficits were distributed among the rich peasants, and were -exacted from them with the greatest severity. Second, the defaulting -or idle hands were forthwith set to plough, and if their labour proved -insufficient according to his standard, he assigned them as workmen -to the other peasants, who paid him for this a voluntary tax. The men -given as bondsmen, on the other hand, possessed the right of redeeming -themselves by paying, besides their deficit, a double annual tithe. All -the communal obligations were thrown upon the rich peasants. But the -recruiting arrangements were the masterpiece of the avaricious ruler, -for by turns all the rich peasants bought themselves off, till at last -the choice fell upon either the blackguard or the ruined one. - -Communal assemblies were abolished. The tithes were collected in small -sums and all the year round. The peasants, it seems, did not pay very -much more than before, but they could not earn or save enough to pay. -In three years Gorohina was quite pauperised. Gorohina quieted down; -the bazaar was empty, the songs of Arhip the Bald were unsung, one -half the men were ploughing in the fields, the other half serving -them as bond labourers. The children went begging, and the day of the -church fete became, according to the historian, not a day of joy and -exultation, but an annual mourning and commemoration of sorrow. - -FROM A GOROHINA ANNALIST. - -The accursed steward put Anton Timofeieff into irons, but the old man -Timofei bought his son's freedom for one hundred rubles. The steward -then put the irons on Petrusha Gremeieff, who likewise was ransomed -by his father for sixty-eight rubles. The accursed one then wanted to -handcuff Lech Tarassoff, but he escaped into the woods, to the regret -of the steward, who vented his rage in words; but sent to town in place -of Lech Tarassoff Vanka the drunkard, and gave him for a soldier as a -substitute. - - - - -PETER THE GREAT'S NEGRO. - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Amongst the young men sent abroad by Peter the Great to acquire the -information necessary for a civilised country was his godson Ibrahim -the negro. He was educated in a Parisian military school, passed out -as a captain of the artillery, distinguished himself in the Spanish -war, and when seriously wounded returned to Paris. In the midst of his -enormous labours the emperor never ceased to ask after his favourite, -of whose progress and good conduct the accounts were always favourable. -Peter was exceedingly pleased with him, and frequently invited him to -Russia; but Ibrahim was in no hurry. He excused himself; either his -wound, or his wish to complete his education, or want of money, served -as the pretext; and Peter complied with his wishes, begged him to take -care of his health, thanked him for his assiduity in study, and though -exceedingly economical himself was lavish to his _protege,_ and sent -together with gold pieces fatherly advice and warning. - -Judging by all historical accounts, the flightiness, madness, and -luxury of the French of that period were unequalled. The latter years -of Louis XIV.'s reign, memorable for the strict piety, dignity, -and propriety of the court, have left no traces behind. The Duke -of Orleans, in whom many brilliant qualities united with vice of -every kind, unfortunately did not possess an atom of hypocrisy. The -orgies of the Palais Royal were no secret in Paris; the example was -infectious. At that time Law made his appearance. To the love of money -was united the thirst for pleasure and amusement. Estates dwindled, -morals perished, Frenchmen laughed and discussed, while the kingdom -crumbled to the jovial tunes of satirical vaudevilles. Meanwhile -society presented a most uninteresting picture. Culture and the -craving for amusement united all classes. Riches, amiability, renown, -accomplishments, even eccentricity, whatever nourished curiosity or -promised entertainment, was received with equal pleasure. Literature, -learning, and philosophy left the seclusion of the study to appear in -the great world and minister to fashion, the ruler of opinions. Women -reigned, but no longer exacted adoration. Superficial politeness took -the place of profound respect. The escapades of the Duke de Richelieu, -the Alcibiades of modern Athens, belong to history and display the -morals of that period: - - "Temps Fortune, marque par la licence, - Ou la folie, agitant son grelot, - D'un pied leger parcourt toute la France, - Ou nul mortel ne daigne etre devot, - Ou l'on fait tout excepte penitence." - -Ibrahim's arrival, his appearance, culture, and native wit, attracted -general attention in Paris. All the ladies fought for a visit from -the Tsar's negro. More than once was he invited to the Regent's merry -evenings; he was present at the suppers enlivened by the youth of -Voltaire and the age of Shollier, the conversations of Montesquieu -and Fontenelle. Not a ball, not a fete, not one first representation -did he miss; and he gave himself up to the general whirl with all the -passion of his youth and nature. But the idea of exchanging these -entertainments, these brilliant pleasures for the simplicity of the St. -Petersburg Court was not all that Ibrahim dreaded. Other and stronger -ties bound him to Paris. The young African was in love. No longer in -the first bloom of youth, the Countess L. was still celebrated for -her beauty. At seventeen, on leaving the convent, she was married to -a man for whom she had not learnt to feel the love which ultimately -he showed no care to win. Rumour assigned her lovers, but through -the leniency of society she still enjoyed a good repute; for nothing -ridiculous or scandalous could be brought against her. Her house was -the most fashionable, a centre of the best society in Paris. Ibrahim -was introduced by young G. de Merville, who was regarded generally -as her latest lover; an impression which he tried by every means to -strengthen. The Countess received Ibrahim with civility, but without -particular attention. He was flattered. Usually the young negro was -regarded with wonder, surrounded and overwhelmed with attention -and questions; and this curiosity, though veiled by a display of -friendliness, offended his vanity. - -The delightful attention of women, almost the sole aim of our -exertions, not only gave him no pleas are, but even ailed him with -bitterness and wrath. He felt that he was for them a species of rare -animal, a strange peculiar creature, accidentally brought into a -world with which he had naught in common. He even envied those whom -no one noticed, and deemed their insignificance a blessing. The idea -that nature had not formed him for tender passion robbed him of all -self-assertion and conceit, and added a rare charm to his manner -towards women. His conversation was simple and dignified. He pleased -the Countess L., who was tired of the formal pleasantries and pointed -innuendoes of French, wit. - -Ibrahim visited her often. Little by little she grew used to the young -negro's looks, and even began to find something agreeable in that early -head, so black amid the powdered wigs that thronged her drawing-room -(Ibrahim had been wounded in the head and wore a bandage in the place -of a wig). He was twenty-seven, tall and well built, and more than one -beauty glanced at him with feelings more flattering to him than mere -curiosity. But Ibraham either did not observe them or thought their -notice merely coquetry. But when his gaze met that of the Countess his -mistrust vanished. Her eyes expressed so much kindness, her manner to -him was so simple, so easy, that it was impossible to suspect her of -the least coquetry or insincerity. - -Though no thought of love entered his mind, to see the Countess daily -had become a necessity. He tried to meet her everywhere, and every -meeting seemed a godsend. The Countess guessed his feelings before he -did so himself. There is no doubt that a love which hopes nothing and -asks nothing touches the female heart more surely than all the arts of -the experienced. When Ibrahim was near, the Countess followed all his -movements, listened to all his words. Without him she became pensive, -and fell into her usual abstraction. Merville was first to notice their -mutual attraction, and congratulated Ibrahim. Nothing inflames love -like approving comments of outsiders. Love is blind, and putting no -trust in itself clings eagerly to every support. - -Merville's words roused Ibrahim. Hope suddenly dawned upon his soul; -he fell madly in love. In vain the Countess, alarmed by the vehemence -of his passion, wished to meet him with friendly warnings and sage -counsels; but she herself was growing weak. - -Nothing escapes the eye of the vigilant world. The Countess's new -attachment soon became known. Some ladies wondered at her choice; -many found him very ordinary. Some laughed; others considered her -inexcusably imprudent. In the first intoxication of their passion -Ibrahim and the Countess noticed nothing, but soon the jokes of the -men, the sarcasms of the women, began to reach them. Ibrahim's formal -and cold manner had hitherto guarded him from such attacks; he bore -them with impatience, and knew not how to retaliate. The Countess, -accustomed to the respect of society, could not calmly endure to see -herself an object of ridicule and scandal. She complained to Ibrahim -either with tears or bitter reproaches; then she begged him not to -take her part, nor ruin her completely by useless disturbance. - -Fresh circumstances complicated her position still more: results of her -imprudent love began to show themselves. The Countess in distress told -Ibrahim. Consolation, advice, suggestions were in turn exhausted and -rejected. She foresaw her inevitable ruin, and in despair awaited it. -Immediately the Countesses condition became known, reports circulated -with renewed vigour. Sensitive women exclaimed in horror; the men made -bets whether she would bear a white or a black child. Epigrams poured -in about her husband, who alone in all Paris suspected nothing. The -fatal moment approached, the Countess was in a terrible state. Ibrahim -called every day. He saw her strength of mind and body gradually -failing. Her tears and terror increased momentarily. At last she felt -the first throes. Measures were taken hurriedly. Means were found to -get the Count out of the way. The doctor arrived. Two days previous -to this a poor woman had been persuaded to resign into the hands of -strangers her new-born infant, for which a messenger was sent. - -Ibrahim remained in the study next the bedroom where the unhappy -Countess lay, scarcely daring to breathe; he heard muffled groans, the -maidservants whispers, and the doctor's directions. She suffered long. -Each groan lacerated Ibrahim's heart, and every silent pause filled -him with dread; suddenly he heard the weak cry of a child, and unable -to control his delight rushed into the Countess's room. A black infant -lay on the bed at her feet. Ibrahim approached it. His heart throbbed -violently. He blessed his son with a trembling hand. The Countess with -a faint smile stretched towards him a feeble hand, but the doctor, -fearing too much excitement for his patient, dragged Ibrahim away from -her bedside. The new-born babe was laid in a covered basket and carried -out by a secret staircase. The other child was brought in, and its -cradle placed in the bedroom. Ibrahim left feeling a trifle calmer. The -Count was expected. He returned late, heard of the happy confinement -of his wife, and was much pleased. Thus the public, which expected -a great scandal, was disappointed, and forced to be satisfied with -backbiting. Everything fell back into its usual routine. But Ibrahim -felt that his life must undergo a change, and that his intimacy must -sooner or later become known to Count L. In which case, whatever might -ensue, the Countess's ruin was inevitable. Ibrahim loved and was loved -with passion; but the Countess was wilful and flighty; and this was -not her first love. Disgust and hatred might in her heart replace -the tenderest feelings. Ibrahim already foresaw the time of her -indifference. Hitherto he had not known jealousy, but now with horror -he anticipated, it. Convinced that the anguish of a separation would be -less painful, he resolved to break off this luckless connection, quit -Paris, and return to Russia, whither Peter and a dull sense of duty had -long been calling him. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Days and months passed, and love-sick Ibrahim could not resolve to -leave the woman he had wronged. The Countess from hour to hour grew -more attached to him. Their son was being brought up in a distant -province; social scandal was subsiding, and the lovers began to enjoy -greater tranquillity, in silence remembering the past storm and trying -not to think of the future. - -One day Ibrahim was standing at the Duke of Orleans' door. The Duke -passing him, stopped, handed him a letter, and bade him read it at his -leisure. It was a letter from Peter I. The Tsar, guessing the real -cause of his absence, wrote to the Hake that he in no way desired to -compel Ibrahim, and left it to his free will to return to Russia or -not; but that in any case he should never forsake his foster-child. -This letter touched Ibrahim to the heart. From that moment his decision -was made. Next day he announced to the Regent his intention to start -immediately for Russia. - -"Consider the step you are about to take," replied the Duke. "Russia is -not your home. I don't think you will ever have a chance of seeing your -torrid Africa, and your long residence in France has made you equally -a stranger to the climate and the semi-barbarous life of Russia. You -were not born one of Peter's subjects. Take my advice, profit by his -generous permission, stay in France, for which you have already shed -your blood, and be convinced that here your services and talents will -not be left without their due reward." - -Ibrahim thanked the Duke sincerely, but remained firm in his resolve. - -"I regret it," replied the Regent; "but on the whole you may be right." - -He promised to let him retire and wrote to inform the Tsar. - -Ibrahim was soon ready for the journey. On the eve of his departure -he passed the evening as usual at the Countess L's. She knew nothing. -Ibrahim had not the courage to tell her. The Countess was calm and -cheerful. She several times called him to her and joked about -his pensiveness. After supper everybody had gone, leaving in the -drawing-room only the Countess, her husband, and Ibrahim. The unhappy -man would have given the world to be left alone with her; but Count L. -seemed to be settled so comfortably near the grate that it appeared -hopeless to wait to see him out of the room. All three remained silent. - -_"Bonne nuit!_" at last said the Countess. - -Ibrahim's heart sank and he suddenly experienced all the horrors of -parting. He stood motionless. - -"_Bonne nuit, messieurs,_" repeated the Countess. - -Still he did not move. At last his eyes became dim, his head went -round, and he could scarcely get out of the room. - -Arriving at home, almost mad, he wrote as follows: - -"I am going, dearest Leonora, to leave you for ever. I write because I -have not the strength to tell you otherwise. Our happiness could not -continue; I have enjoyed it against the will of destiny and nature. -You must in time have ceased to love me. The enchantment must have -vanished. This idea has always haunted me, even when I seemed to -forget all, when at your feet I was intoxicated by your passionate -self-abnegation, by your boundless tenderness. The thoughtless world -mercilessly persecute that which in theory it permits. Sooner or later -its cold irony would have vanquished you, and cowed your passionate -soul, till finally you would have been ashamed of your love. - -"What, then, would have become of me? - -"Better to die; better to leave you before that terrible moment. Your -happiness to me is more precious than all; you could not enjoy it, -while the gaze of society was fixed upon us. Remember all you have -endured, your wounded pride, the torture of fear; the terrible birth -of our son. Think; ought I any longer to subject you to such fears and -dangers? Why should I endeavour to unite the fate of so tender, so -beautiful a creature with the miserable life of a negro, a pitiable -object scarce worthy of the name of man? - -"Forgive me, Leonora; dear and only friend. In leaving you, I leave -the first and last joy of my heart. I have no fatherland nor kin. I go -to Russia, where my utter solitude will be my joy. Serious pursuits -to which from henceforth I devote myself, if they do not silence must -at any rate distract painful recollections of the days of rapture. -Farewell, Leonora! I tear myself away from this letter, as if from your -embrace. Farewell, be happy, and think sometimes of the poor negro, of -your faithful Ibrahim." - -The same night he started for Russia. The journey did not seem as -terrible as he had expected. His imagination triumphed over fact. The -further he got from Paris the nearer and more vivid seemed to him all -the objects he was leaving for ever. - -Imperceptibly he reached the Russian frontier. Autumn had already set -in, but the hired relays, notwithstanding the badness of the roads, -brought him with the swiftness of the wind, and on the seventeenth -morning he arrived at Krasnoe Selo, through which at that time passed -the high road. - -There remained twenty-eight versts' journey to St. Petersburg. While -the horses were being changed Ibrahim entered the posting-house. In a -corner a tall man, in a green caftan and a clay pipe in his mouth, sat -leaning against the table reading the _Hamburg Gazette_. Hearing some -one enter he raised his head. - -"Oh, Ibrahim!" he exclaimed, rising from the bench. "How do you do, -godson?" - -Ibrahim recognised Peter, and in his delight rushed at him, but stopped -respectfully. The monarch approached, put his arms round him, and -kissed him on the forehead. - -"I was told of your coming," said Peter, "and drove off to meet you. I -Pave been waiting for you here since yesterday." - -Ibrahim could not find words to express his gratitude. - -"Tell them," added the Tsar, "to let your carriage follow us, while you -get in by my side and drive to my place." - -The Tsar's caleche was announced; he and Ibrahim got in and started at -a gallop. In an hour and a half they reached St. Petersburg. Ibrahim -looked with interest at the new-born city, which had sprung up by the -will of the Tsar. The bare banks, the canals without quays, the wooden -bridges, everywhere bore witness to the recent triumph of human will -over the elements. The houses seemed to have been hurriedly built. -The whole town contained nothing magnificent but the Neva, not yet -decorated with its granite framework, but already covered with ships -of war and merchantmen. The Tsar's caleche drew up at the palace, -_i.e._ at the Tsaritsa's garden. On the door-steps Peter was met by a -woman about thirty-five, handsome, and dressed in the latest Parisian -fashion. Peter kissed her, and, taking Ibrahim by the hand, said: - -"Katinka, do you recognise my godson? I beg you to love and welcome him -as before." - -Catherine turned on him her black searching eyes, and graciously held -out her hand. Two young beauties, tall and shapely, and fresh as roses, -stood behind her and respectfully approached Peter. - -"Lisa," he said to one, "do you remember the little negro who stole -apples from me at Oranienburgh to give to you? Here he is, I introduce -him to you." - -The grand duchess laughed and blushed. They went into the dining-room. -In expectation of the Tsar the table had been laid. Peter, having -invited Ibrahim, sat down with all his family to dinner. During dinner -the Tsar talked to him on different topics, inquiring about the Spanish -war, the internal affairs of Prance and the Regent, whom he liked, -though he found in his conduct much to blame. Ibrahim displayed an -accurate and observant mind. Peter was much pleased with his answers; -remembering some incidents of Ibrahim's childhood, he related them with -such good-humoured merriment that no one could have suspected this kind -and hospitable host to be the hero of Poltava, the mighty and terrible -reformer of Russia. - -After dinner the Tsar, according to the Russian custom, retired to -rest. Ibrahim remained with the empress and the grand duchesses. He -tried to satisfy their curiosity, described Parisian life, their fetes -and capricious fashions. In the mean-while, some of the emperor's -suite assembled in the palace. Ibrahim recognised the magnificent -Prince Menshikoff, who, seeing the negro conversing with Catherine, -cast him a scornful glance; Prince Jacob Dolgoruki, Peter's stern -counsellor; the learned Bruce, known among the people as the Russian -Paustus; young Bagusinski, his former companion, and others who had -come to the Tsar to bring reports and receive instructions. In a couple -of hours the Tsar came out. - -"Let us see," he said to Ibrahim, "if you remember your old duties. -Get a slate and follow me." Peter locked himself in the carpenter's -room and was engaged with state affairs. He worked alternately with -Bruce, Prince Dolgoruki, General Police-master Deviere, and dictated -to Ibrahim several ukases and decisions. Ibrahim was struck by the -rapidity and firmness of his decision, the strength and the pliability -of his intellect, and the variety of his occupations. When his work -was ended Peter took out a pocket book to compare the notes and see if -he had got through all he had meant to do that day. Then quitting the -carpenter's workroom he said to Ibrahim: - -"It is late; I dare say you are tired, sleep the night here, as in the -old time; to-morrow I will wake you." - -Ibrahim, left alone, could hardly realise that he was again at St. -Petersburg, in the presence of the great man; near whom, not yet -aware of his great worth, he had spent his childhood. It was almost -with regret that he confessed to himself that the Countess L. for the -first time since they parted had not been his sole thought throughout -the day. He saw that in the new mode of life awaiting him, work and -continual activity might revive his soul, exhausted by passion, -indolence, and secret sorrow. The idea of being the great man's -assistant, and with him influencing the fate of a mighty people, awoke -in him for the first time the noble feeling of ambition. In this humour -he lay down upon the camp bed prepared for him,--and then the usual -dreams carried him back to distant Paris, to the arms of his dear -countess. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Next morning, according to his promise, Peter woke Ibrahim and greeted -him as lieutenant-captain of the Preobrajensky regiment, in which he -himself was captain. The courtiers flocked round Ibrahim, each one in -his own way trying to welcome the new favourite. - -The haughty Prince Menshikoff gave him a friendly grasp of the hand. -Sheremetieff inquired after his own Parisian friend, and Golovin asked -him to dinner. Others followed his example, so that Ibrahim received -invitations for at least a whole month. - -His life was now passed in regular but active occupation; consequently -he was not dull. Prom day to day he became more attached to the Tsar, -and grew better able to appreciate his lofty character. The thoughts -of a great man are a most interesting study. Ibrahim saw Peter in the -Senate debating with Buturlin and Dolgoruki, discussing important -questions in the Admiralty, fostering the Russian navy,--in his -leisure, with Theophan, Gavril, Bujinski, and Kopievitch, examining -translations from foreign publications, or visiting a factory, an -artizan's workshop, or the study of some learned man. Russia became -to Ibrahim one vast workshop, where machinery alone moved, where each -workman under ordered rules is occupied with his own task. - -He felt that he too must work at his own bench, and tried to regret -as little as possible the amusements of his Parisian life. But if -was hander to forget a dearer memory. Often he thought of Countess -L., her just indignation, her tears, and grief. At times a terrible -thought oppressed him: the distractions of society: new ties: another -favourite. He shuddered; jealousy began to rage in his African blood, -and burning tears were ready to flow down his swarthy face. - -One morning he was sitting in his study amid official documents, when -he heard himself loudly greeted in French. Turning quickly round he was -embraced with joyous exclamations by young Korsakoff, whom he had left -in Paris in the whirl of the great world. - -"I have only just arrived," said Korsakoff "and came straight to you. -All our Parisian friends desire to be remembered to you, and regret -your absence. The Countess L. requested me to invite you without fail, -and here is her letter for you." - -Ibrahim seized it eagerly, and was looking at the familiar writing on -the envelope, scarcely believing his own eyes. - -"How glad I am," added Korsakoff, "that you have not been bored to -death in this barbarous Petersburg. How do they manage here? What do -they do? Who is your tailor? Have they started an opera?" - -Ibrahim absently replied that the Tsar was probably at that moment at -work in the shipping dock. - -Korsakoff laughed. - -"I see," he said, "you are preoccupied, and don't want me just now. -Another time we will have a good talk; I am off to present my respects -to his Majesty." With these words he turned on his heel, and hurried -out of the room. - -Left alone Ibrahim quickly opened the letter. The countess complained -tenderly, reproached him with falseness and inconstancy. - -"You used to say," she wrote, "that my happiness was more to you than -all the world. Ibrahim, if this were true, could you have left me in -the state to which the sudden news of your departure brought me. You -were afraid I might detain you. Be assured that, in spite of my love, -I should have known how to sacrifice it for your good and to what you -deem your duty." - -The countess ended with passionate assurances of love, begging him to -write, if only occasionally, and even if there were no hope that they -would ever meet again. - -Ibrahim read and re-read this letter twenty times, rapturously kissing -those precious lines. Burning with impatience for news about the -countess, he set out for the Admiralty, hoping to find his friend still -there, when the door opened, and Korsakoff re-entered. He had seen the -Tsar, and he seemed as usual perfectly self-satisfied. - -"Between ourselves," he said to Ibrahim, "the Tsar is a most -extraordinary man. Fancy! I found him in a sort of linen vest on the -mast of a new ship, whither I had to scramble with my dispatches. I -stood on a rope ladder, and had not room enough to make a proper bow. -I lost my presence of mind for the first time in all my life. However, -the Tsar, when he had read my papers, looked at me from head to foot. -Ho doubt he was agreeably impressed by my good taste and splendid -attire. At any rate he smiled, and invited me to the assembly today. -But I am a perfect stranger in Petersburg. For my six years' absence I -have quite forgotten the local customs. Please be my mentor; call for -me on your way, and introduce me." - -Ibrahim promised, and hastened to turn the conversation on the subject -that most interested him. - -"How was the Countess L.?" - -"The countess? At first she was naturally most unhappy at your -departure; then, of course by degrees, she grew reconciled, and took -to herself another lover--who do you think? The lanky Marquis R. Why -do you open those African eyes of yours? Does this appear to you so -strange? Don't you know that enduring grief is not in human nature, -particularly in a woman. Meditate duly upon that while I go and rest -after my journey, and don't forget to call for me on your way." - -What terrible thoughts crowded Ibrahim's soul? Jealousy? Rage? -Despair?--Ho!--but a deep, crushing sorrow. - -He murmured to himself. I foresaw it, it was bound to happen. Then he -opened the countess's letter, read it over again, hung his head, and -wept bitterly. Long did he weep. Those tears relieved him. He looked -at his watch and found that it was time to start. Gladly would he have -stayed away, but the party was an affair of duty, and the Tsar was -strict in exacting the attendance of those attached to him. - -He dressed and started to fetch Korsakoff. Korsakoff was sitting in his -dressing gown, reading a French book. - -"So early?" he exclaimed, seeing Ibrahim. - -"Excuse me," the other replied, "it's already half-past five, we shall -be late; make haste and dress, and let us go." - -Korsakoff hurriedly rang the bell with all his might; the servants -hurried in, and he began hastily to dress. His French valet handed him -slippers with red heels, light blue velvet breeches, a pink kaftan -embroidered with spangles. In the antechamber his wig was hurriedly -powdered and brought in; Korsakoff pushed into it his closely cropped -head, asked for his sword and gloves, turned ten times before the -glass, and announced to Ibrahim that he was ready. The footmen handed -them their bearskin overcoats, and they drove off to the Winter Palace. - -Korsakoff smothered Ibrahim with questions. - -Who was the belle of St. Petersburg. Which man was considered the -best dancer? and which dance was the most fashionable? Ibrahim very -reluctantly gratified his curiosity. Meanwhile they reached the -palace. A number of long sledges, old carriages, and gilded coaches -stood on the lawn. Near the steps were crowded coachmen in livery and -moustaches, outriders glittering with tinsel, with feathers and maces, -hussars, pages and awkward footmen carrying their masters' furcoats -and muffs, a following indispensable according to the notions of the -gentry of that period. At sight of Ibrahim a general murmur ran. "The -negro, the negro, the Tzar's negro!" He hurriedly led Korsakoff through -this motley crowd. The Court footman opened wide the doors; and they -entered a large room. Korsakoff was dumb with astonishment. In this big -hall, lighted up with tallow candles dimly burning amidst clouds of -tobacco smoke, sat magnates with blue ribbons across their shoulders, -ambassadors, foreign merchants, officers of the guards in their green -uniform, shipbuilders in jackets and striped trousers, all moving to -and fro in crowds to the unceasing sound of sacred music. The ladies -sat near to the walls;--the young attired in all the splendour of -fashion. Gold and silver shone upon their gowns; from the midst of wide -crinolines their slender figures rose like flower stalks. Diamonds -glittered in their ears, in their long curls, and round their neck. -They turned gaily to the right and left awaiting the gentlemen and the -dancing. - -Elderly ladies tried cunningly to combine the new style of dress with -the vanished past; caps were modelled on the small sable hat of the -Tsaritsa Natalia Kirilovna, and gowns and mantles somehow recalled the -sarafan and dushegreika (short jacket without sleeves). They seemed -to share rather with wonder than enjoyment in these new imported -amusements, and glanced angrily at the wives and daughters of the Dutch -skippers, who in cotton skirts and red jackets knitted their stockings -and sat laughing and talking quite at ease amongst themselves. Seeing -the fresh arrivals, a servant approached with beer and tumblers on a -tray. Korsakoff in bewilderment whispered to Ibrahim. - -"Que diable est ce que tout cela?" Ibrahim could not repress a smile. -The empress and the grand duchess, radiant in their own beauty and -their attire, walked through the rows of guests, talking affably to -them. The emperor was in another room, Korsakoff, wishing to show -himself to him, with difficulty pushed his way through the ever-moving -crowd. Sitting in that room were mostly foreigners solemnly smoking -their clay pipes and drinking from their earthen jugs. On the tables -were bottles of beer and wine, leather pouches with tobacco, tumblers -of punch, and a few draught-boards. At one of these was Peter playing -draughts with a broad-shouldered English skipper. They solemnly saluted -one another with gulps of tobacco smoke, and the Tsar was so engrossed -by an unexpected move of his opponent that he did not notice Korsakoff, -in spite of the latter's contortions. At that moment a stout gentleman -with a large bouquet on his breast rushed in, announced in a loud voice -that dancing had begun, and instantly retired. He was followed by a -large number of the guests, including Korsakoff among the rest. - -The unexpected sight surprised him. Along the whole length of the -hall, to the sound of the most doleful music, the ladies and gentlemen -stood in two rows face to face. The gentlemen bowed low; the ladies -curtsied lower still, first to their _vis-a-vis_, then to the right, -then to the left; again to their _vis-a-vis_, then to the right, and -so on. Korsakoff, gazing at this fantastic pastime, opened his eyes -and bit his lips. The curtsying and bowing went on for about half an -hour. At last they ended, and the stout gentleman with the bouquet -announced that the dances of ceremony were ended, and ordered the band -to play a minuet. Korsakoff was delighted, and made ready to show -off. Among the young ladies was one whom he particularly admired. She -was about sixteen, dressed richly but with taste, and sat next an -elderly gentleman of dignified and stern appearance. Korsakoff rushed -up to her and begged the honour of a dance. The young beauty was -disconcerted, and seemed to be at a loss what to say. The man sitting -next her frowned more than before. Korsakoff awaited her reply, when -the gentleman with the bouquet approached, led him to the middle of the -hall, and said pompously: - -"Dear sip, you have done wrong. In the first place, you approached this -young person without first rendering her the three requisite salutes, -and secondly, you took upon yourself the right of choosing her, whereas -in the minuet that privilege is hers and not the gentleman's. For this -you must undergo severe punishment, that is you must drain the goblet -of the Great Eagle." - -Korsakoff from hour to hour grew more astonished. In a moment the -guests surrounded him, loudly demanding instant compliance with the -law. Peter, hearing the laughter and loud talk, came from the next -room, being very fond of witnessing such punishments. The crowd divided -before him and he stepped into the centre, where stood the accused with -the master of the ceremonies before him holding an enormous cup full -of malmsey wine. He was earnestly persuading the culprit to submit -willingly to the law. - -"Aha!" said Peter, seeing Korsakoff, "you are caught, brother. Drink, -monsieur, and no wry faces." - -There was nothing for it. The poor dandy, without stopping, drained the -goblet and returned it to the master of the ceremonies. - -"Hark, Korsakoff," said Peter, "your breeches are of velvet, the like -even I don't wear, who am much richer than you. That is extravagance, -take care I do not quarrel with you." - -After this rebuke Korsakoff wished to leave the circle, but staggered -and nearly fell, to the great delight of the emperor and the merry -company. This incident not only did not mar the harmony nor interest of -the principal entertainment, but on the contrary enlivened it. - -The gentlemen began to scrape and bow, and the ladies to curtsy and -knock their little heels together with great diligence, no longer -keeping time to the music. Korsakoff could not share in the general -merriment. By her father Gavril Afanassievitch Rjevski's orders, the -lady whom Korsakoff had chosen approached Ibrahim, and, dropping her -eyes, timidly held out her hand to him. Ibrahim danced the minuet with -her and led her back to her seat, then went in search of Korsakoff, -led him out of the hall, placed him in the carriage, and drove him -home. At the beginning of the journey Korsakoff mumbled, "Curses upon -the soiree and the goblet of the Great Eagle," but he soon fell into -a deep sleep. He knew not how he got home, undressed, and was put to -bed, and he awoke next day with a headache, and a dim remembrance of -the scraping, curtseying, and tobacco smoke, the gentleman with the -enormous bouquet, and the mighty goblet of the Great Eagle. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - _(Verse from "Ruslan and Ludmila.")_ - - "Our forefathers were leisurely souls, - Right leisurely did they dine, - And they ladled slow from their silver bowls - The foaming beer and wine." - - -I must introduce you, gracious reader, to Gavril Afanassievitch -Rjevski. He came of an ancient noble race, owned vast estates, was -hospitable, loved falconry, had an enormous retinue, and was, in a -word, a good old Russian gentleman. In his own words he could not bear -anything foreign, and in his home he tried to maintain the customs of -the good old days he loved so well. His daughter was seventeen. In -childhood she had lost her mother, and she had been brought up in the -old-fashioned way, amid a crowd of governesses, nurses, companions, and -children from the servants' hall. She could embroider in gold and was -illiterate. Her father, in spite of his dislike to all things foreign, -could not oppose her wish to learn German dances from a captive Swedish -officer living in their house. This worthy dancing master was about -fifty; his right foot had been shot through at the battle of Narva, -and therefore it was not very active at minuets and courantes; but -the left was very dexterous and agile in the more difficult steps. -His young pupil did credit to his teaching. Natalia Gavrilovna was -celebrated at these soirees for her dancing, which was partly the cause -of Korsakoff's proceedings. He came next morning to apologise to Gavril -Afanassievitch. But the young dandy's manner and fine dress displeased -the proud _barin_ who nicknamed him the French monkey. - -It was a holiday. Gavril Afanassievitch expected a number of friends -and relations. In the ancient hall a long table was being laid. The -guests were arriving with their wives and daughters, who had at last -been released from their domestic prison by the order and by the -example of the Tsar. Natalia Gavrilovna handed round a silver tray -laden with golden cups, and each guest, as he drained one, regretted -that the kiss which accompanied it on such occasions in olden times was -out of fashion. - -They sat down to table. In the place of honour next the host sat his -father-in-law, Prince Boris Alexeievitch Lykoff, a boyar in his -seventieth year. The other guests were placed in order of descent, and -thus recalling the happy times of precedence by office, sat down, men -on one side, women on the other. At the end of the table, the companion -in the old-fashioned dress, a dwarf,--a thirty-year-old infant, -affected and wrinkled,--and the captive dancing master in a shabby dark -blue uniform, took their accustomed seats. The table, covered with a -great number of dishes, was surrounded by numerous and busy servants, -distinguishable among whom was the butler, with severe mien, big -stomach, and pompous immobility. The first few moments of dinner were -devoted entirely to the dishes of our time-honoured Russian cookery. -The rattle of plates and the activity of spoons produced a general -taciturnity. - -At last the host, perceiving that the time had come for entertaining -the guests with agreeable conversation, turned and asked: - -"Where, then, is Ekimovna? Let her be summoned!" - -Several attendants were about to rush off in different directions, -when an old woman, painted white and pink, decorated with flowers and -tinsel, in a silk damask gown with a low neck, entered, singing and -dancing. Her advent occasioned general delight. - -"Good-day to you, Ekimovna?" said Prince Lykoff. "How are you getting -on?" - -"Well and healthily, gossip; all night dancing, my suitors awaiting." - -"Where have you been, fool?" asked the host. - -"Dressing, gossip, to receive the dear guests, on the Lord's festival, -by order of the Tsar, by command of the master, to the derision of the -world in the German style." - -At these words there was a loud burst of laughter, and the jester took -her place behind the host's chair. - -"And folly talks foolishly, and sometimes tells the truth in her -folly," said Tatiana Afanassievna, eldest sister of the host, and much -respected by him. "Naturally the present style of dress must seem -ridiculous to everybody. When you, my friends, have shaved your beards -and put on a short coat, it is of course no use talking of women's -rags; but really it is a pity the sarafan, the maiden's ribbons, and -the povoinik [a head-dress] should be discarded. It is really sad and -comic to see the beauties of to-day, their hair frizzed like flax, -greased and covered with French powder, the waist laced in so tight -that it seems on the point of snapping--their bodies encased in hoops, -so that they have to go sideways through a carriage door. They stoop; -they can neither stand, sit, nor breathe--real martyrs, my poor dears." - -"Dear mother Tatiana Afanassievna!" said Kirila Petrovitch, formerly a -_voievod_ at Riasan, where he acquired 3,000 serfs and a young wife, -neither by strictly honourable means. "But my wife may dress as she -likes as long as she does not order new gowns every month and throw -away the previous ones, while still quite perfectly new. Formerly the -granddaughter included in her dowry the grandmother's sarafan; but -now you see the mistress in a gown to-day and to-morrow it is on the -maid. What is to be done? Nothing but ruin confronts the Russian noble. -Very sad!" he said, with a sigh, looking at his Maria Ilienitchna, who -seemed to like neither his praise of olden times nor his disparagement -of the latest fashions. The rest of the ladies shared her displeasure, -but they said nothing, for modesty was in those days still deemed -essential in young women. - -"And who is to blame?" asked Gravril Afanassievitch, frothing a mug of -_kissli shtchi_ (sort of lemonade). "Is it not our own fault? The young -women play the fool and we encourage them." - -"What can we do? We cannot help ourselves," replied Kirila Petrovitch. -"A man would gladly shut his wife up in the house, but she is summoned -with beating of drums to attend the assemblies. The husband follows -the whip, but the wife runs after dress. Oh, those assemblies! The Lord -has sent them upon us to punish us for our sins." - -Maria Ilienitchna sat on needles; her tongue itched. At last she could -bear it no longer, and turning to her husband inquired with a little -acid smile what he found to object to in the assemblies. - -"This is what I find to object to," replied the irritated husband. -Since they began, husbands cannot manage their wives; wives have -forgotten the teaching of the apostles--that a wife shall reverence her -husband. They trouble themselves not about their domestic affairs, but -about new apparel. They consider not how to please the husband, but -how to attract the officers. And is it becoming, madam, for a Russian -lady--wife or maid--to hobnob with German tobacconists and with their -workmen? Who ever heard of dancing till night and talking with young -men? If they were relatives, all well and good--but with strangers and -with men they do not know." - -"I would say a word, but there is a wolf near," said Gavril -Afanassievitch, with a frown. "I confess these assemblies are not to my -taste; at any moment you may jostle against a drunken man, or perhaps -be made drunk yourself to amuse others. Then there is the danger -that some blackguard may be up to mischief with your daughter; the -modern young men are so spoilt, it is disgraceful. Take for instance -the son of the late Evgraff Sergueievitch Korsakoff; who at the last -assembly made such a fuss about Natasha, that he brought the blood into -my cheeks. Next day he coolly drives up to my gate. I was wondering -whether it could be Prince Alexander Danilovitch. No such luck. Ivan -Evgrafovitch! He would not stop at the gate and take the trouble to -walk up to the door, it is not likely! Korsakoff rushed in, bowing -and scraping, and chattered at such a rate, the Lord preserve us! The -fool Ekimovna mimics him most comically; by-the-bye, fool, give us the -foreign monkey." - -Foolish Ekimovna seized the cover off a dish, tucked it under her arm -like a hat, and began wriggling, scraping with her feet, and bowing -in all directions, saying _monsieur_, _mademoiselle_, _assemblee_, -_pardon_. General and prolonged laughter again showed the delight of -the guests. - -"Exactly like Korsakoff," said old Prince Lykoff, wiping away his tears -of laughter when the noise had gradually subsided. "It must be owned, -however, he is not the first nor the last who has come from foreign -parts to holy Russia a buffoon. What do our children learn abroad? To -scrape their feet, to chatter the Lord knows what lingo, not to respect -their elders, and to dangle after other men's wives. Of all the young -people who have been educated abroad (the Lord forgive me) the Tzar's -negro most resembles a man." - -"Oh, prince!" said Tatiana Afanassievna. I have--I have seen him close. -What a frightful muzzle he has. I was quite frightened of him." - -"Certainly," added Gavril Afanassievitch. "He is a steady, decent man, -not a brother of the whirlwind. Who is it that has just driven through -the gate into the courtyard? Surely it is never that foreign monkey -again? What are you animals doing?" he exclaimed, turning towards the -servants. "Run and keep him out, and never let him in again." - -"Old beard, are you dreaming?" foolish Ekimovna interrupted. "Are you -blind? It is the royal sledge. The Tsar has come." - -Gavril Afanassievitch rose hurriedly from the table. Everybody rushed -to the windows; and positively saw the emperor ascending the steps -leaning on the arm of his orderly. There was a great commotion. The -host rushed to meet Peter; the servants flew hither and thither as if -mad; the guests were alarmed, and some wondered how they might escape. -Suddenly the thunder voice of Peter resounded in the hall. All was -silence as the Tsar entered, accompanied by his host, in a flutter of -joy. - -"How do you do, ladies and gentlemen?" said Peter gaily. - -All made obeisance. The Tsar's sharp eyes sought in this crowd -the host's young daughter. He beckoned to her. Natalia Gavrilovna -approached rather boldly, but blushed not only to her ears but to her -shoulders. - -"You grow prettier every hour," said the Tsar, and according to his -custom kissed her on the head. Then turning to the guests he exclaimed: - -"Why, I have interrupted you! You were dining? I beg you will sit down -again, and to me, Gavril Afanassievitch, give some aniseed vodka." - -The host rushed at the stately butler, snatched from him a tray, -and himself filling a small golden goblet, handed it to the Tsar. -Peter drank it, ate a piece of bread, and again invited the guests -to continue their dinner. All resumed their seats but the dwarf and -the companion, who did not dare to remain at the table honoured by -the presence of the monarch. Peter sat down beside the host and asked -for some shtchee (a cabbage soup). The Tsar's orderly handed him a -wooden spoon inlaid with ivory, a knife and fork with green bone -handles--Peter never used any others but his own. The dinner table -conversation, which a moment before had been boisterously merry, -ended by being forced and scanty. The host from respect and delight -ate nothing; the guests, too, became ceremonious and listened with -reverence to the Tsar as he discussed in German the campaign of 1701 -with the captive Swede. - -The fool, Ekimovna, several times interrogated by the monarch, replied -with a sort of cold timidity, which, by-the-bye, did not in the least -prove her natural folly. - -At last the dinner ended. The monarch rose, and after him all the -guests. - -"Gavril Afanassievitch!" he said, addressing the host. "I want a word -with you alone." Taking his arm, he led him into the drawing-room and -locked the door. The guests remaining in the dining-room whispered -about the unexpected visit, and fearing to intrude, dispersed speedily -without expressing to their host the usual after-dinner thanks. His -father-in-law, daughter, and sister accompanied each in silence to the -door, and remained alone in the dining-room awaiting his Majesty's -departure. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Half an hour later the door opened and Peter came out. With a solemn -bow to the treble salute from Prince Lykoff, Tatiana Afanassievna, and -Natasha, he passed out into the lobby. The host handed him his long -red overcoat, conducted him to the sledge, and on the door steps again -thanked him for the honour he had done him. - -Peter drove off. - -Returning to the dining-room, Gavril Afanassievitch seemed much -troubled; angrily bade the servants clear the table, sent Natasha to -her apartments, and informed his sister and father-in-law that he must -talk with them. He led them into the bedroom, where he usually took his -after-dinner nap. The old Prince lay down upon the oak bed; Tatiana -Afanassievna sat down upon the ancient damask easy chair, and drew the -footstool towards her; Gavril Afanassievitch locked all the doors and -sat down at Prince Lykoffs feet. In a low voice he began: - -"The Tzar had a reason for coming here to-day. Guess what it was." - -"How can we know, dear brother?" replied Tatiana Afanassievna. - -"Has he commanded you to a voievod?" asked his father-in-law. It is -time he did so long ago. Or he has proposed a mission to you? Why not? -Not always clerks. Important people are sometimes sent to foreign -monarchs. - -"No," replied his son-in-law, scowling. "I am a man of the old pattern; -our services are not required in the present day, though perhaps an -Orthodox Russian nobleman is superior to modern upstarts, pancake -hawkers, and Mussulmen. But that is a different matter." - -"Then what was it, brother?" asked Tatiana Afanassievna crossing, -herself. - -"The maiden is ready for marriage, the bridegroom must be in keeping -with the proposer. God grant them love and discretion; of honour there -is plenty." - -"On whose behalf then does the Tzar propose?" - -"Hum, whose? indeed!" exclaimed Gavril Afanassievitch. "Whose! That is -just the point." - -"Whose?" repeated Prince Lykoff half dozing already. - -"Guess," said Gavril Afanassievitch. - -"Dear brother," replied the old lady, "how can we guess? There are many -gentlemen at court. Any one of them would be delighted to marry your -Natasha. Is it Dolgoruki?" - -"No, not Dolgoruki." - -"The Lord be with him, he is so haughty. Shein? Troekuroff?" - -"Neither of them." - -"I don't care for them either. They are flighty and too German. Then it -is Miloslavsky?" - -"No, not he." - -"God be with him, he is rich and stupid. Who then? Is it Eletsky, Lvof? -It cannot be Ragusinski? Well, I cannot imagine. Then whom does the -Tzar wish Natasha to marry?" - -"The Negro Ibrahim." - -The old lady exclaimed and threw up her arms. Prince Lykoff raised -his head from the pillows, and in astonishment repeated: "The negro -Ibrahim?" - -"Dear brother!" said the old lady in a voice full of tears. "Do not -destroy your darling daughter, do not deliver Natashinka into the claws -of the black devil." - -"But how then?" replied Gavril Afanassievitch, "refuse the Tzar, who in -return promises us his protection to me and all our house." - -"What!" exclaimed the old Prince, who was wide awake now. "Natasha, my -granddaughter, to be married to a bought negro?" - -"He's of good birth," said Gavril Afanassievitch, "he is the son of a -negro Sultan. He was not taken prisoner by the Mussulmen but sold at -Constantinople. Our ambassador bought him and presented him to Peter. -The negro's eldest brother came to Russia with a handsome ransom -and----" - -"We have the legend of Bova Koroleviteh and Eruslana Lasarevitch." - -"Gavril Afanassievitch," added the old lady, "tell us rather how you -replied to the Tzar's proposal." - -"I said that he was in authority over us, and that it was our duty to -submit to him in everything." - -At that moment a noise was heard behind the door. Gavril Afanassievitch -went to open it, but something obstructed; he gave a hard push, -the door opened, and he beheld Natasha unconscious lying on the -blood-smeared floor. - -Her heart misgave her when the Tzar was closeted with her father. A -sort of presentiment whispered to her that the matter concerned her; -and when Gavril Afanassievitch bade her to retire, while he conferred -with her aunt and grandfather, she could not resist feminine curiosity, -crawled quietly through the back rooms to the bedroom door, and missed -no word of their terrible conversation. When she heard her father's -last sentence, the poor girl fainted, and falling, struck her head -against the metal-bound chest which held her dowry. - -The servants rushed in, lifted Natasha, carried her to her own suite -of apartments, and laid her upon her bed. After a little she came to -and opened her eyes, but recognised neither father nor aunt. Fever -set in; in her delirium she spoke of marriage and the Tzar's negro, -and suddenly cried in a plaintive and piercing voice: "Valerian, dear -Valerian, my life, save me: There they are, there they are." - -Tatiana Afanassievna glanced anxiously at her brother, who turned -white, bit his lip, and left the room in silence. He returned to the -old Prince, who, unable to mount the stairs, had remained below. - -"How is Natasha?" he asked. - -"Poorly," replied the sad father; "worse than I thought: in her -delirium she raves about Valerian." - -"Who is this Valerian?" inquired the anxious old man. "Can it be the -orphan son of the musketeer whom you brought up in your house?" - -"The same, to my sorrow!" replied Gavril Afanassievitch. "His father -saved my life during the insurrection, and the devil induced me to take -home the accursed young wolf. Two years ago, at his own request, he -was drafted into the army. Natasha cried at parting with him, while he -stood as if turned to stone. I thought it suspicious, and spoke to my -sister about it. But Natasha has never mentioned him since; and nothing -has been heard of him. I hoped she had forgotten him, but it seems not. -I have decided; she shall marry the negro." - -Prince Lykoff did not contradict him; it would have been useless. He -returned home. Tatiana Afanassievna remained by Natasha's bedside. -Gavril Afanassievitch, after sending for the doctor, locked himself in -his own room, and in his house all was still and sad. This unexpected -proposal of marriage surprised Ibrahim, at any rate, quite as much as -it surprised Gavril Afanassievitch. It happened thus. - -Peter, while busy at work with Ibrahim, said to him: - -"I have remarked, my friend, that you are low-spirited; tell me frankly -what it is you want."' - -Ibrahim assured the Tsar that he was contented with his lot, and wished -for nothing better. - -"Good," said the monarch; "if you are sad without a cause, then I know -how to cheer you." - -At the conclusion of their work, Peter inquired of Ibrahim: - -"Do you admire the young lady with whom you danced the minuet at the -last ball?" - -"Sire, she is very nice, and seems a modest, amiable girl." - -"Then you shall make her more intimate acquaintance. Should you like to -marry her?" - -"I, sire?" - -"Listen, Ibrahim; you are a lonely man, without birth or clan, a -stranger to everybody but myself. If I were to die to-day what would -become of you to-morrow, my poor negro? You must get settled while -there is yet time, find support in new ties, connect yourself with the -Russian nobility." - -"Sire, I am contented with you; the protection and favour of your -Majesty. God grant I may not survive my Tsar and benefactor. I desire -nothing more, and even if I had any views of matrimony, would the -young girl or her relations consent? My personal appearance----" - -"Your personal appearance? What nonsense! How, are you not a fine -fellow? A young girl must obey her parent's wishes; but we will see -what old Gavril Rjevski will say when I go myself as your matchmaker." - -With these words the Tsar ordered his sledge, and left Ibrahim wrapped -in deep meditation. - -"Marry," thought the African; "and why not? Surely I am not destined to -pass my life alone, and never know the greatest happiness and the most -sacred duties of manhood, simply because I was born in the torrid zone? -I cannot hope to be loved; what a childish thought! Is it possible to -believe in love? Can it exist in the frivolous heart of woman? The Tsar -is right; I must assure my own future. Marriage with young Rjevski will -unite me to the haughty Russian nobility, and I shall cease to be a -stranger in my new country. From my wife I shall not require love; I -shall content myself with her fidelity and friendship." - -Ibrahim wished to work according to his custom, but his imagination was -too excited. He left the papers, and went out to stroll along the banks -of the Neva. Suddenly he heard Peter's voice, looked round, and saw -the Tsar, who had dismissed his sledge and was following "him with a -lively countenance. - -"It is all settled, my friend," said Peter, taking him by the arm; "I -have betrothed you. Tomorrow, call upon your father-in-law, but be -careful to honour the pride of the _boyar_; leave your sledge at the -gates, and go across the yard on foot, talk to him of his honours and -distinction, and he will be delighted with you. And now," he added, -shaking his cudgel, "take me to the rogue Danileitch, with whom I must -have an interview about his latest pranks." - -Ibrahim thanked Peter most sincerely for his fatherly care, accompanied -him as far as the magnificent mansion of Prince Menshikoff, and -returned home. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Gently burnt the hanging lamp before the glass case, wherein glittered -the gold and silver frames of the ancestral _icons._ The flickering -light lit faintly the curtained bed, and the table strewn with labelled -phials. Near the fireplace sat a servant at her spinning wheel, and -only the light sound of her distaff broke the silence. - -"Who is there?" asked a weak voice. The maid rose instantly, approached -the bed, and quietly raised the curtain. - -"Will it soon be dawn?" asked Natalia. - -"It is already noon," replied the maid. - -"Oh, heavens! and why is it so dark?" - -"The shutters are closed, miss." - -"Then let me dress quickly." - -"You must not, miss; the doctor forbids it." - -"Am I ill then? How long?" - -"Nearly a fortnight now." - -"Is it really so? And it seems to me but last night that I went to bed." - -Natasha was silent; she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. -Something had happened to her, what it was she could not remember. The -maid stood before her, awaiting her orders. At that moment a muffled -sound was heard below. - -"What is it?" asked the patient. - -"The masters have finished dinner," answered the attendant; "they are -rising from table. Tatiana Afanassievna will be here directly." - -Natasha seemed pleased, she waved her feeble hand. The maid dropped the -curtain and resumed her seat at the spinning wheel. - -A few minutes after, a head, covered with a broad white cap with dark -ribbons, peeped through the door and asked in a low voice: - -"How is Natasha?" - -"How do you do, auntie?" said the invalid gently, and Tatiana -Afanassievna hurried towards her. - -"The young lady is conscious," said the maid, cautiously moving up -an easy chair. With tears in her eyes the old lady kissed the pale -languid face of her niece, and sat down beside her. Immediately after -her came the German doctor in a black caftan and learned wig. He -counted Natalia's pulse, and told them first in Latin, then in Russian, -that the crisis was over. He asked for paper and ink, wrote a new -prescription, and departed. The old lady rose, kissed Natalia again, -and at once went down with the good news to Gavril Afanassievitch. - -In the drawing-room in full uniform, with sword and hat in hand, sat -the royal negro, talking respectfully with Gavril Afanassievitch. -Korsakoff, stretched full length upon a downy couch, reclined, -listening to their conversation while he teased the greyhound. Tired of -this occupation, he approached a mirror, the usual refuge of the idle, -and in it saw Tatiana Afanassievna behind the door making unperceived -signs to her brother. - -"You are wanted, Gavril Afanassievitch," said Korsakoff to him, -interrupting Ibrahim. - -Gavril Afanassievitch instantly went to his sister, closing the door -behind him. - -"I am astonished at your patience," said Korsakoff to Ibrahim. "A whole -hour have you been listening to ravings about the ancient descent -of the Lykoffs and the Rjevskis, and have even added your own moral -observations. In your place _j'aurais plante la_ the old liar and -all his race, including Natalia Gavrilovna, who is only affected and -shamming illness, _une petite sante._ Tell me truly, is it possible -that you are in love with that little _mijauree?_" - -"No," replied Ibrahim, "I am of course marrying, not from love, but -from consideration, and that only if she has no actual dislike for me." -"Listen, Ibrahim," said Korsakoff, "for once take my advice; really I -am wiser than I look. Give up this silly idea--don't marry. It seems -to me that your chosen bride has no particular liking for you. Don't -many things happen in this world? For instance: of course I am not bad -looking, but it has happened to me to deceive husbands who were really -not a whit my inferior. Yourself too.... you remember our Parisian -friend Count L.? A woman's fidelity cannot be counted on. Happy is -he who can bear the change with equanimity. But you! with "your -passionate, brooding, and suspicious nature, with your flat nose, thick -lips, is it with these that you propose to rush into all the dangers of -matrimony?" - -"Thank you for your friendly advice," said Ibrahim, coldly; "you know -the proverb: 'it is not your duty to rock other folk's children.'" - -"Take care, Ibrahim," replied Korsakoff, smiling, "that it does not -fall to your lot to illustrate that proverb literally later on." - -The conversation in the next room waxed hot. - -"You will kill her," the old lady was saying; "she cannot bear the -sight of him." - -"But just consider," replied her obstinate brother. "For a fortnight -now he has been calling as her accepted bridegroom, and hitherto has -not seen his bride. He might think at last that her illness is simply -an invention, and that we are seeking only to gain time in order to get -rid of him. Besides, what will the Tsar say? He has already sent three -times to ask after Natasha. Do as you please, but I do not intend to -fall out with him." - -"My God!" exclaimed Tatiana Afanassievna; "how will she bear it? At any -rate, let me prepare her for this." - -Gavril Afanassievitch consented, and returned to the drawing-room. - -"Thank God!" he said to Ibrahim; "the crisis is over. Natalia is much -better. I do not like to leave our dear guest, Mr. Korsakoff, here -alone> or I would take you upstairs to get a glimpse of your bride." - -Korsakoff congratulated Gavril Afanassievitch, begged them not to put -themselves out on his account, assured them that he was obliged to go, -and rushed into the lobby, whither be refused to allow his host to -follow him. - -Meanwhile, Tatiana Afanassievna hastened to prepare the invalid for the -arrival of her terrible visitor. Entering the apartments, she sat down -breathless by the bedside and took Natalia by the hand. But before she -had time to say a word, the door opened. - -"Who has come in?" Natasha asked. - -The old lady felt faint, Gavril Afanassievitch drew back the curtain, -looked coldly at the patient, and inquired how she was. The sick girl -tried to smile but could not. Her father's stern gaze startled her, and -fear overcame her. She fancied some one stood at the head of her bed. -With an effort she raised her head and instantly recognised the Tsar's -negro. At that moment she remembered all, and all the horror of the -future presented itself before her. But exhausted nature could receive -no further perceptible shock. Natasha dropped her head back on the -pillow and closed her eyes, her heart within her gave sickly throbs. -Tatiana Afanassievna signed to her brother that the patient wanted to -go to sleep, and everybody left the apartments quietly. The maid alone -remained and resumed her seat. - -The unhappy beauty opened her eyes, and seeing no one by her bedside, -called the maid and sent her for the dwarf. But at that moment an old, -round creature, like a ball, rolled up to her bed. Tie Swallow (so -the dwarf was nicknamed) had rushed as fast as her short legs would -carry her up the stairs after Gavril Afanassievitch and Ibrahim, and -hid behind the door. Natasha saw her and sent the maid away. The dwarf -sat down on a stool by the bedside Never had so small a body contained -so active a soul. She interfered in everything, knew everything, and -exerted herself about everything. With cunning penetration she knew how -to gain the affection of her masters, and the envy of all the household -over which she wielded autocratic sway. Gavril Afanassievitch listened -to her tales, complaints, and petty requests. Tatiana Afanassievna -asked her opinion every moment and took her advice, while Natasha's -affection for her was unbounded. She confided to her all the thoughts, -all the impulses of her sixteen-year-old heart. - -"Do you know, Swallow," she said, "my father is going to marry me to -the negro." The dwarf sighed deeply, and her wrinkled face became more -wrinkled. - -"Is there no hope?" added Natasha. "Do you think my father will not -have compassion upon me?" - -The dwarf shook her cap. - -"Won't grandfather intercede for me, or my aunt." - -"No, miss, the negro during your illness managed to bewitch everybody. -Master is mad about him, the prince dreams of him alone, and Tatiana -Afanassievna says it is a pity he is a negro, otherwise we could not -wish for a better bridegroom." - -"My God, my God!" sobbed poor Natasha. - -"Don't grieve, dear beauty," said the dwarf, kissing her feeble -hand. "If you must marry the negro, at any rate you will be your own -mistress. Now it is not as it was in olden times; husbands no longer -imprison their wives; the negro is said to be rich, the house will be -like a full cup--you'll live merrily." - -"Poor Valerian," said Natasha, but so low, that the dwarf only guessed -but did not hear the words. - -"That is just it, miss," she said mysteriously, lowering her voice; "if -you thought less of the sharpshooter's orphan you would not rave of him -in your delirium, and your father would not be angry." - -"What!" inquired Natasha, in alarm; "I raved about Valerian? My father -heard? My father was angry?" - -"That is the misfortune," replied the dwarf. "Now, if you ask him not -to marry you to the negro, he will think Valerian is the cause. There -is nothing to be done, you had better submit, and what is to be will -be." - -Natasha made no reply. The notion that the secret of her heart was -known to her father had a powerful effect upon her mind. One hope only -was left to her--that she might die before the completion of this -hateful marriage. This idea comforted her. With a weak and sad heart -she resigned herself to her fate. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -In Gavril Afanassievitch's house opening from the hall on the right was -a a narrow room with one window. In it stood a simple bed covered with -a blanket. Before the bed stood a small table of pine wood, on which a -tallow candle burnt, and a book of music lay open. On the wall hung an -old blue uniform and its contemporary, a three-cornered hat; above it -nailed to the wall with three nails hung a picture representing Charles -XII. on horseback. The notes of a flute sounded through this humble -abode. The captive dancing-master, its solitary occupant, in a skull -cap and cotton dressing-gown, was enlivening the dulness of a winter's -evening practising some strange Swedish, marches. After devoting two -whole hours to this exercise the Swede took his flute to pieces, packed -it in a box, and began to undress. - - - - -THE GYPSIES, - -NARRATIVE AND DRAMATIC POEM. - - -A noisy band of gypsies are wandering through. Bessarabia. To-day they -will pitch their ragged tents on the banks of the river. Sweet as -freedom is their nights rest, peaceful their slumber. - -Between the cart wheels, half screened by rugs, burns a fire around -which the family is preparing supper. In the open fields graze the -horses, and behind the tents a tame bears lies free. In the heart of -the desert all is movement with the preparations for the morning's -march, with the songs of the women, the cries of the children, and the -sound of the itinerant anvil. But soon upon the wandering band falls -the silence of sleep, and the stillness of the desert is broken only by -the barking of the dogs and the neighing of the horses. - -The fires are everywhere extinguished, all is calm; the moon shines -solitary in the sky, shedding its light over the silent camp. - -In one of the tents is an old man who does not sleep, but remains -seated by the embers, warming himself by their last glow. He gazes -into the distant steppes, which are now wrapped in the mists of night. -His youthful daughter has wandered into the distant plains. She is -accustomed to her wild freedom; she will return. But night wears on, -and the moon in the distant clouds is about to set. Zemphira tarries, -and the old man's supper is getting cold. But here she comes, and, -following on her footsteps, a youth, a stranger to the old gypsy. - -"Father," says the maiden, "I bring a guest; I found him beyond the -tombs in the steppes, and I have invited him to the camp for the night. -He wishes to become a gypsy like us. He is a fugitive from the law. But -I will be his companion. He is ready to follow wherever I lead." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "I am glad. Stay in the shelter of our camp till -morning, or longer it thou wilt. I am-ready to share with thee both -bread and roof. Be one of us. Make trial of our life; of our wandering, -poverty, and freedom. To-morrow, at daybreak, in one van, we will go -together. Choose thy trade: forge iron, or sing songs, leading the bear -from village to village." - -_Aleko:_ "I will remain." - -_Zemphira_: "He is mine; who shall take him from me? But it is late.... -the young moon has set, the fields are hidden in darkness, and sleep -overpowers me." - -Day breaks. The old man moves softly about the silent camp. - -"Wake, Zemphira, the sun is rising; awake, my guest. 'Tis time, tis -time! Leave, my children, the couch of slothfulness." - -Noisily the clustering crowd expands; the tents are struck; the vans -are ready to start. All is movement, and the horde advances over the -desert. - -Asses with paniers full of sportive children lead the way; husbands, -brothers, wives, daughters, young and old, follow in their wake. What -shouting and confusion! Gypsy songs are mingled with the growling -of the bear, impatiently gnawing at his chain. What a motley of -bright-coloured rags! The naked children! The aged men! Dogs bark and -howl, the bagpipes drone, the carts creak. All is so poor, so wild, -so disorderly, but full of the life and movement ever absent from our -dead, slothful, idle life, monotonous as the songs of slaves. - -The youth gazes disheartened over the desert plain. The secret cause of -his sadness he admits not even to himself. By his side is the dark-eyed -Zemphira. Now he is a free inhabitant of the world, and radiant above -him shines the sun in midday glory. Why, then, does the youth's heart -tremble--what secret sorrow preys upon him? - -God's little bird knows neither care nor labour, Why should it strive -to build a lasting nest? The night is long, but a branch suffices for -its sleeping place. When the sun comes in his glory, birdie hears the -voice of God, flutters his plumage, and sings his song. After spring, -Nature's fairest time, comes hot summer. Late autumn follows, bringing -mist and cold. Poor men and women are sad and dismal. To distant lands, -to warmer climes beyond the blue sea, flies birdie to the spring. Like -a little careless bird is the wandering exile. For him there is no -abiding nest, no home! Every road is his; at each stopping-place is his -night's lodging. Waking at dawn, he leaves his day at God's disposal, -and the toil of life disturbs not his calm, indolent heart. At times, -glory's enchantment, like a distant star, attracts his gaze; or sudden -visions of luxury and pleasure float before him. Sometimes above his -solitary head growls the thunder, and beneath the thunder, as beneath a -peaceful sky, he sleeps serene. And thus he lives, ignoring the power -of blind treacherous Fate. But once, oh God! how passion played with -his obedient soul! How it raged in his tormented breast! Is it long, -and for how long, that it has left him calm? It will rage again; let -him but wait! - -_Zemphira_: "Friend, tell me, dost thou not regret what thou hast left -for ever?" - -_Aleko_: "What have I left?" - -_Zemphira:_ "Thou knowest; thy people, thy cities." - -_Aleko:_ "Regret? If thou knewest, if thou could'st imagine the -confinement of our stifling towns! There people crowded behind walls -never breathe the cool breeze of the morning, nor the breath of -spring-scented meadows. They are ashamed to love, and chase away the -thought. They traffic with liberty, bow their heads to idols, and beg -for money and chains. What have I left? The excitement of treason, the -prejudged sentence, the mob's mad persecution or splendid infamy." - -_Zemphira:_ "But there thou hadst magnificent palaces, many coloured -carpets, entertainments, and loud revels; and the maiden's dresses are -so rich!" - -_Aleko:_ "What is there to please in our noisy towns? The genuine -love, no veritable joy. The maidens. How much dost thou surpass them, -without their rich apparel, their pearls, or their necklaces! Be true, -my gentle friend! My sole wish is to share with thee love, leisure, and -this self-sought exile." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Thou lovest us, though born amongst the rich.. But -freedom is not always agreeable to those used to luxury. We have a -legend:-- - -"Once a king banished a man from the South to live amongst us--I once -knew but have forgotten his difficult name--though old in years he was -youthful, passionate, and simple-hearted. He had a wondrous gift of -song, with a voice like running waters. Everyone liked him. He dwelt -on the banks of the Danube, harming no one, but pleasing many with his -stories. He was helpless, weak, and timid as a child. Strangers brought -him game and fish caught in nets. When the rapid river froze and -winter storms raged high, they clad the saintly old man in soft warm -furs. But he could never be inured to the hardships of a poor man's -life. He wandered about pale and thin, declaring that an offended God -was chastening him for some crime. He waited, hoping for deliverance, -and full of sad regret. The wretched man wandered on the banks of the -Danube shedding bitter tears, as he remembered his distant home, and, -dying, he desired that his unhappy bones should be carried to the -South. Even in death the stranger to these parts could find no rest." - -_Aleko:_ "Such is thy children's fate, O Borne, O world-famed Empire! -Singer of love, singer of the gods, say what is glory? The echo from -the tomb, the voice of praise continued from generation to generation, -or a tale told by a gypsy in his smoky tent?" - - * * * * * - -Two years passed. The peaceful gypsy band still wanders, finding -everywhere rest and hospitality. Scorning the fetters of civilisation, -Aleko is free, like them; without regret or care he leads a wandering -life. He is unchanged, unchanged the gypsy band. Forgetful of his past, -he has grown used to a gypsy life. He loves sleeping under their tents, -the delight of perpetual idleness, and their poor but sonorous tongue. -The bear, a deserter from his native haunts, is now a shaggy guest -within his tent. In the villages along the deserted route that passes -in front of some Moldavian dwelling, the bear dances clumsily before -a timid crowd and growls and gnaws his tiresome chain. Leaning on his -staff the old man lazily strikes the tambourine; Aleko, singing, leads -the bear; Zemphira makes the round of the villagers, collecting their -voluntary gifts; when night sets in all three prepare the corn they -have not reaped, the old man sleeps, and all is still.... The tent is -quiet and dark. - -In the spring the old man is warming his numbed blood; at a cradle his -daughter sings of love. Aleko listens, and turns pale. - -_Zemphira_: "Old husband, cruel husband, cut me, burn me, I am firm, -and fear neither knife nor fire. I hate thee, despise thee; I love -another, and loving him will die." - -_Aleko:_ "Silence, thy singing annoys me. I dislike wild songs." - -_Zemphira:_ "Dislike them? And what do I care! I am singing for myself. -Cut me, burn me, I will not complain. Old husband, cruel husband, thou -shalt not discover him. He is fresher than the spring, warmer than -the summer-day. How young and bold he is! How much he loves me! How I -caressed him in the stillness of the night! How we laughed together at -thy white hair." - -_Aleko:_ "Silence, Zemphira. Enough!" - -_Zemphira:_ "Then thou hast understood my song." - -_Aleko:_ "Zemphira!" - -_Zemphira_: "Be angry if thou wilt.... the song is about thee." (_She -retires singing_, "_Old husband, &c._") - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Yes, I remember; that song was made in my time, and -has long been sung for folk's amusement. Marioula used; as we wandered -over the Kagula Steppes, to sing it in the winter nights. The memory of -past years grows fainter hourly, but that song impressed me deeply." -. . . . . . . . . . . All is still. It is night, and the moon casts a -sheen over the blue of the southern sky. Zemphira has awakened the old -man. - -"Oh, father! Aleko is terrible; listen to him! In his heavy sleep he -groans and sobs." - -_The Old Gypsy_: "Do not disturb him, keep quiet. I have heard a -Russian saying that at this time, at midnight, the house spirit often -oppresses a sleeper's breathing, and before dawn quits him again. Stay -with me." - -_Zemphira:_ "Father, he murmurs Zemphira!" - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "He seeks thee even in his sleep. Thou art dearer to -him than all the world." - -_Zemphira_: "I care no longer for his love; I am weary, my heart wants -freedom. I have already--But hush! dost thou hear? He repeats another -name." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Whose name?" - -_Zemphira:_ "Dost thou not hear? The hoarse groan, the savage grinding -of his teeth! How terrible! I will rouse him." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "No, don't chase away the night spirit; it will leave -him of its own accord!" - -_Zemphira:_ "He has turned, and raised himself; he calls me, he is -awake. I will go to him. Good night, and sleep." - -_Aleko:_ "Where hast thou been?" - -_Zemphira:_ "With my father. Some spirit has oppressed thee. In sleep -thy soul has suffered tortures. Thou didst frighten me; grinding thy -teeth and calling out to me." - -_Aleko:_ "I dreamt of thee, and saw as if between us.... I had horrible -thoughts." - -_Zemphira:_ "Put no faith in treacherous dreams." - -_Aleko:_ "Alas! I believe in nothing Neither in dreams, nor in sweet -assurances, nor in thy heart." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Young madman. Why dost thou sigh so often? We here -are free. The sky is clean, the women famous for their beauty. Weep -not. Grief will destroy thee." - -_Aleko:_ "Father! she loves me no more." - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Be comforted, friend. She is but a child. Thy sadness -is unreasonable. Thou lovest anxiously and earnestly, but a woman's -heart loves playfully. Behold, through the distant vault the full moon -wanders free, throwing her light equally over all the world. First -she peeps into one cloud, lights it brilliantly, and then glides to -another, making to each a rapid visit. Who shall point out to her one -spot in the heavens and say, 'There shalt thou stay'? Who to the young -girl's heart shall say, 'Love only once and change not'? Be pacified." - -_Aleko:_ "How she loved me! How tenderly she leant upon me in the -silent desert when we were together in the hours of night! Full of -child-like gaiety, how often, with her pleasant prattle or intoxicating -caress, has she in an instant chased away my gloom! And now, Zemphira -is false! My Zemphira is cold!" - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Listen, and I will tell thee a story about myself. -Long, long ago, before the Danube was threatened by the Muscovite (thou -seest, Aleko, I speak of an ancient sorrow), at a time when we feared -the Sultan who, through Boodjak Pasha, ruled the country from the lofty -towers of Ackerman. I was young then, and my bosom throbbed with the -passion of youth. My curly locks were not streaked with white. Among -the young beauties there was one.... To whom I turned as to the sun, -till at last I called her mine. Alas! like a falling star, my youth -swiftly sped. Still briefer was our love. Marioula loved me but one -year." - -"One day, by the waters of Kagula, we encountered a strange band of -gypsies, who pitched their tents near ours at the foot of the hill. -Two nights we passed together. On the third, they left, and Marioula -forsook her little daughter and followed them. I slept peacefully. -Day broke, and I awoke; my companion was not there. I searched, I -called--no trace remained. Zemphira cried, I wept too! From that moment -I became indifferent to all womankind. Never since has my gaze sought -amongst them a new companion. My dreary hours I have spent alone." - -_Aleko:_ "What! Didst thou not instantly pursue the ingrate and her -paramour, to plunge thy dagger in their false hearts?" - -_The Old Gypsy:_ "Why should I? Youth is freer than the birds. Who can -restrain love? Everyone has his turn of happiness. Once fled, it will -never return." - -_Aleko:_ "No, I am different. Without a struggle never would I yield -my rights. At least, I would enjoy revenge. Ah, no! Even if I were to -find my enemy lying asleep over the abyss of the sea, I declare that -even then my foot should not spare him, but should unflinchingly kick -the helpless villain into the depths of the ocean, and mock his sudden -terrible awakening with a savage laugh of exultation. Long would his -fall resound a sweet and merry echo in my ears." . . . . . . . _A Young -Gypsy_: "One kiss, just one more embrace." - -_Zemphira:_ "My husband is jealous and angry. I must go!" - -_The Young Gypsy_: "Once more.... a longer one.... at parting." - -_Zemphira:_ "Good-bye. Here he comes." - -_The Young Gypsy:_ "Tell me. When shall we meet again?" - -_Zemphira:_ "To-night, when the moon rises over the hill beyond the -tombs." - -_The Young Gypsy:_ "She is deceiving me; she will not come." - -_Zemphira_: "Run--there he is! I will be there, beloved!" - -Aleko sleeps, and in his mind dim visions play. With a cry he wakes in -the dark, and, stretching out his jealous arm, clutches with a startled -hand the cold bed. His companion is far away..... Trembling he sits up -and listens.... All is quiet! Fear comes upon him. He shivers, then -grows hot. Rising from his bed, he leaves the tent, and, terribly -pale, wanders round the vans. All is silent, the fields are still, -and it is dark. The moon has risen in a mist, and the twinkling stars -are scarcely seen. But on the dewy grass slight footprints can be -discovered, leading to the tombs. With hurried tread he follows on the -path made by the ill-omened footmarks. - -In the distance, on the road side, a tomb shines white before him. -Carried along by his hesitating feet, full of dread presentiment, -his lips quivering, his knees trembling ... he proceeds ... when -suddenly ... can it be a dream? Suddenly he perceives two shadows close -together, and hears two voices whispering over the desecrated grave. - -_The First Voice_: "'Tis time." - -_The Second Voice_: "Wait." - -_The First Voice_: "'Tis time, my love." - -_The Second Voice_: "No, no! We will wait till morning." - -_The First Voice_: "'Tis late already." - -_The Second Voice_ "How timidly thou lovest! One moment more." - -_The First Voice_: "Thou wilt destroy me!" - -_The Second Voice_: "One moment!" - -_The First Voice_: "If my husband wakes and I am not----" - -_Aleko:_ "I am awake. Whither are you going? Don't hurry; you both are -well here--by the grave." - -_Zemphira_: "Run, run, my friend." - -_Aleko:_ "Stop! Whither goest thou, my beautiful youth? Lie there!" -(_He plunges his knife into him._) - -_Zemphira:_ "Aleko!" - -_The Young Gypsy:_ "I am dying!" - -_Zemphira:_ "Aleko, thou wouldst kill him! Look, thou art covered with -blood! Oh, what hast thou done?" - -_Aleko:_ "Nothing; thou canst now enjoy his love." - -_Zemphira:_ "Enough, I do not fear thee! Thy threats I despise, and thy -deed of murder I curse." - -_Aleko:_ "Then die thyself!" - -_Zemphira:_ "I die, loving him." . . . . . . . From the east the -light of day is shining. Beyond the hill Aleko, besmeared with blood, -sits on the grave-stone, knife in hand. Two corpses lie before him. -The murderer's face is terrible. An excited crowd of timid gypsies -surrounds him. A grave is being dug. A procession of sorrowing women -approaches, and each in turn kisses the eyes of the dead. The old -father sits apart, staring at his dead daughter in dumb despair. The -corpses are then raised, and into the cold bosom of the earth the young -couple are lowered. From a distance Aleko looks on. When they are -buried, and the last handful of earth thrown over them, without a word -he slowly rolls from off the stone on to the grass. Then the old man -approaches him, and says: - -"Leave us, proud man. We area wild people and have no laws. We neither -torture nor execute. We exact neither tears nor blood, but with a -murderer we cannot live. Thou art not born to our wild life. Thou -wouldst have freedom for thyself alone. The sight of thee would be -intolerable to us; we are a timid, gentle folk. Thou art fierce and -bold. Depart, then; forgive us, and peace be with thee!" - -He ended, and with great clamour all the wandering band arose, and at -once quitted the ill-fated camp and quickly vanished into the distant -desert tract. But one van, covered with old rugs, remained in the fatal -plain standing alone. - -So, at the coming of winter and its morning mists, a flock of belated -cranes rise from a field loudly shrieking and flying to the distant -South, while one sad bird, struck by a fatal shot, with wounded -drooping wing, remains behind. Evening came. By the melancholy van no -fire was lighted; and no one slept beneath its covering of rugs that -night. - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen of Spades and other stories, by -Alexander Pushkin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEEN OF SPADES, OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 55024.txt or 55024.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/2/55024/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version, also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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