Liza gasped and clasped her hands to her chest.
“He hit my mother! My mother!”
Her hatred for Boris and her pity for her mother caused the room to swim before her eyes and brought on a loud ringing in her ears. Liza clutched at the voile.
Meanwhile, Natalia Vladimirovna was speaking rapidly, her eyes flashing.
“I can’t… I can’t live without him.”
Her hair fell over her face and she brushed it aside impatiently.
“He wants money. But where am I supposed to get it from? And it’s never enough.”
“You have to leave him, Natasha. Otherwise you’re finished.”
“Finished.” She shook her head and her hair fell over her face again. “So be it. Let it be the end. I’m finished either with him or without him. I realized that today, when he hit me. You know, it made me love him more.”
The doorbell rang again, quite suddenly and insistently.
“Surely, it can’t be Boris! He wouldn’t dare!”
Liza opened the door.
In front of her stood Bunny. Rain was streaming off his bowler straight onto his crumpled, sodden coat. Through the steamy lenses of his pince-nez, his eyes—round and blue, like porcelain—fixed her with an unhinged stare.
He moved his lips.
“Is Natasha… Natalia Vladimirovna at home?” he pronounced with some difficulty.
“Yes. But I think she’s unwell. What are you doing still standing outside in the rain! Come in, I’ll go and ask.”
Bunny waved his hand dismissively and remained where he was.
“Call her. Tell her it’s urgent.”
“I will. But please come in. This rain… You’ll catch a chill.”
“Tell her it’s urgent,” he repeated and then closed his eyes as he leant his whole body against the rain-soaked wall, as if he were suddenly deathly tired.
Liza ran into the bedroom without knocking.
“Natasha, Bunny is out there in the rain. He’s gone mad, he’s scaring me.”
Natalia Vladimirovna shrugged her shoulders in irritation.
“What does he want now? Go, send him away, Tanya. Tell him that I’m ill, that I have a fever.”
Liza was now alone with her mother. She wanted to get on her knees, to kiss the small, naked feet that were swinging off the bed so helplessly, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she silently held and stroked her mother’s cold hand.
“What is it, Liza darling?” Natalia Vladimirovna asked absent-mindedly.
Liza wanted to reply, to tell her everything, but Solntseva was already walking back into the room.
“You must go to him. He’s gone completely mad. He’s just standing there in the rain. God only knows what he’s capable of.”
“Are you saying that I must go?”
“I’m afraid you must.”
Natalia Vladimirovna obediently got to her feet, picked her hat up off the floor and put it on without even bothering to look in the mirror. Then she sat down in the chair and put on her stockings.
“He’s in such a state. He gave me the fright of my life,” Solntseva was saying.
Natalia Vladimirovna silently threw on her fur coat and tucked her hair under her hat.
“Goodbye, Tanya. Goodbye, Liza darling.”
On the threshold she paused.
“Oh, how tired I am!”
Liza hugged her mother and, quite unexpectedly, surprising even herself, made the sign of the cross over her.
“What was that? What was that for?” Natalia Vladimirovna said with surprise, before walking through to the hallway and wrapping the coat around herself. “Happy now? Got what you needed?” she said, in quite a different, angry tone.
Bunny firmly held her by the arm, as if afraid that she would run away.
“The taxi is waiting.”
She handed him her umbrella.
“Hold this.”
They descended the wet steps into the wet garden. Bunny was carefully holding the umbrella in his outstretched arm, slipping and sliding on the sodden earth, but all the while maintaining his balance like a tightrope walker. They climbed into the taxi.
“Don’t sit so close to me. You’re all wet.”
Natalia Vladimirovna hid her face in her thick fur collar. Bunny was silent. They pulled up to a small hotel with a flashing sign. She raised an eyebrow.
“What on earth is this? Where have you taken me?”
“Let’s go.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Some sort of hideaway.”
She waited with unconcealed disgust while Bunny made arrangements with the receptionist.
“Room twenty-five, on the third floor. The lift isn’t working.”
“That’s the last thing I need! Oh, never mind. All I want is for this to be over.”
She wrapped the coat more tightly around herself and quickly climbed the stairs. Bunny ran after her, breathing heavily.
On the landing he stopped to catch his breath.
“This is it.”
The receptionist started briskly removing the piqué cover from the bed.
“No,” Bunny waved his hand at him. “You may go.”
The key clicked in the lock. Bunny turned to face Natalia Vladimirovna.
“Now,” he said.
She stood before him in her black fur coat, looking tired and miserable. Stray strands of hair had fallen down from under her hat. She stared at him. The look in her eyes was malign and indifferent. A contemptuous smirk played on her pale unpainted lips.
“Now?” she said with disgust.
“Oh! She’s unattractive… How could I have failed to realize this before?” The sudden thought crossed his mind. “This unattractive woman has caused me so much suffering, and now she’ll be the end of me. She’s unattractive.” He wanted to hold on to this thought as if it were a lifebuoy. “She’s unattractive and this means that I needn’t have suffered and I needn’t…”
He stared at her intensely, hungrily. She was unattractive and that meant that he was free. He could unlock the door and walk out and never think of her again. He was free, because she was unattractive.
“Well then?” she said. “Are we going to stand here in silence? Is this what you dragged me here for?”
The sound of her harsh, angry voice made Bunny’s heart tremble in that familiar slavish way.
Free? No, he wasn’t free. She might be unattractive, yes, but that didn’t change anything. He had to go through with it. He remembered that he had made his mind up back at the restaurant. And now he had to go through with it.
With his stiff, disobedient fingers, he unbuttoned his coat and reached into his pocket.
“I’m going to kill you!” he screamed shrilly, pointing the revolver at her.
She didn’t move a muscle. She stared at him in surprise, but there was no fear in her eyes.
“Go on, then. Kill me,” she said quite quietly. “Kill me!”
She threw open her coat and lifted up her face, so he could take aim.
If she had been frightened, if she had stretched her arms out to him, if she had made a single step back, he would have fired. But she stood motionless.
“Practically point-blank,” he thought dimly, “right into her heart. And then into mine.”
But his hand was trembling and his fingers grew soft and weak.
He hung his head. The revolver fell to the floor with a thud.
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely.
“You can’t? A pity…” She sank into a chair. The coat hung limply off her skinny shoulders. Her hands, still dressed in white gloves, rested wearily on her knees. They hadn’t bothered to switch on the lights when they walked in, and now the room was very dark. She leant against the wall and closed her eyes. Her pale face was miserable.
“Natasha,” he called out to her. “Natasha.”
“What?” she said, without opening her eyes.
“Natasha, Natasha…” His shoulders trembled as tears str
eamed from under his pince-nez. “Forgive me. Forgive me, Natasha… I love you so much… Forgive me. I’m so unhappy…”
She stretched out a gloved hand.
“I’m not angry. I’m unhappy too…”
He didn’t take her hand.
“No… No,” he whispered, wiping away the tears with his hand. “No, wait. I don’t want this. I want you to be happy.”
She shook her head.
“How can I be happy?”
He hurriedly took out his chequebook. His tears obscured his vision.
“What am I doing?” The frightened thought occurred to him. “Oh, what does it matter! In an hour from now, I’ll have shot myself.”
He was already holding the pen.
“Twenty thousand. No, no, the whole thirty-five.” He wiped his eyes and carefully wrote out the number on the cheque.
Now it was all over. He couldn’t go on after this. This was the end.
She was still sitting there. It was as if she had forgotten all about him.
“Natasha,” he called plaintively. “Natasha, here, take this.”
She looked at the piece of paper glowing white in his hand, quite surprised. Then she took it and, leaning over it, studied it attentively.
Her white-gloved hands trembled. Her eyebrows rode up her forehead. In the dark, her eyes shone brightly.
“Bunny! Oh, my dear Bunny! Thank you! As it happens, I’m desperate for money.”
Her voice rang out with happiness.
“Thank you, Bunny dear!”
She smiled at him and he fancied that he saw her pale, translucent face glow gently in the darkness.
He felt a pinprick to his heart. Quite unexpectedly, he remembered his childhood in Kovno and how a lit lamp would be brought through to the bedroom behind the watchmaker’s shop. Not like the lamps these days, but a real kerosene lamp, with elegant, feminine curves—a beautiful lamp. And how a soft, magical glow would emanate through the matt white cover. And there was nothing on earth more beautiful than this lamp.
His whole body trembled.
“Natasha, I’m giving you my blood. I’m giving you my life, Natasha. Do you know where this money is from? It’s someone else’s money. It’s the oil company’s money,” he whispered, afraid.
“Someone else’s? Then take it back.” She took the cheque out of her handbag. “Take it, tear it up.”
“Keep it, keep it. It’s yours, don’t argue.”
He peeled off his wet coat and threw his bowler down onto the table.
“Natasha, I want you to be happy. Smile again, please. Smile for me.”
He got on his knees in front of her and slowly, with a painful tenderness, kissed her feet.
“Like a toad that’s been tortured—pricked with pins all over—and that someone has finally given a drop of water to,” she thought. And she closed her eyes in pity and disgust.
VIII
LIZA HAD BEEN LEFT standing in the hallway. She hadn’t had time to speak to Mama. Never mind. It was actually better this way. She’d think everything over and then, when Mama came back…
“Mama, Mama, my Mama,” she laughed out loud and ran into the drawing room. “My Mama.” Not “Natasha”, not “her” as Kolya and she would always refer to their mother. No. “Mama.”
Why shouldn’t Liza be able to make her happy? Mama has no idea. She still thinks that Liza is a child. But Liza is a grown-up now and will sacrifice her life for Mama. That’s right—her whole life. She just wants Mama to be happy.
Liza paced about the room excitedly.
“Boris. But he won’t get in the way. He’s stupid and unkind.” She—Liza—would banish him.
At eleven, Nikolai arrived home.
“What are you doing here, Liza, curled up like an orphaned hedgehog? Go to bed.”
Liza silently went upstairs to her room and lay down on the divan, covering herself with a shawl.
She had to wait up for Mama. Mama would be home soon.
But Natalia Vladimirovna still hadn’t made it back by one o’clock. Liza fell asleep, fully dressed.
The next morning she awoke late, with a headache. As soon as she remembered the previous night, she ran downstairs. The maid was fussing about, irritably moving chairs around.
“Dasha, is Natalia Vladimirovna at home?”
The maid drew a sharp breath through her nose.
“Oh, she’s home all right. But she’s not alone.”
Liza could barely breathe from anxiety.
“Who’s with her? Bunny?”
“No, no. It’s Boris… Boris Alexeyevich.”
Dasha hunched her shoulders disdainfully, turned and set about dusting the sideboard.
“Is she awake?” Liza asked quietly.
“They’ve had coffee. And I’ve already been out to get him some ham.”
She would have to wait. Liza sat down in her usual armchair in the drawing room.
She mustn’t judge Mama. Poor Mama… She needed pity. Pity and love. Love from the bottom of her heart.
She could hear laughter from the bedroom. That hateful Boris was saying:
“Yes, that was a good call. A very good call. Well done you! I can depend on you!”
How strange. How everything had changed. Even yesterday morning, she had been utterly indifferent to Boris, whereas now she could strangle him with her bare hands. She stretched her arms out in front of her. This is how she’d strangle him. And she’d enjoy it too. The bedroom door flew open. Natalia Vladimirovna rushed into the drawing room, wearing a rose housecoat and treading with a new, light, happy gait. A smiling Boris followed her, the collar of his blazer turned up.
“Liza darling!” Natalia Vladimirovna cried gaily, embracing her daughter. “Have you heard the news? I’m leaving for Nice this evening.”
“You’re going to Nice?” Liza was shocked.
“Yes! Oh, I’m so happy! What a pity that I can’t take you with us.”
“You’re leaving this evening?” Liza repeated. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes blinked again and again. “But what about me?”
Boris was studying her carefully with his bold black eyes.
“Like two cockroaches,” thought Liza with disgust and turned away from him.
“Listen, Natasha,” Boris said, while fixing his parting, “let’s take her with us, she’s such a pretty little thing!”
Slowly, he stretched out his arm, and slowly, he brushed her blonde hair.
“Charming! Still a child and yet—already a woman. Charming!”
Liza shook her head angrily.
“Oh!” He drew back his fingers and laughed. “A cub! She’ll bite! Let’s take her, Natasha, really. It’ll be more fun.”
Natalia Vladimirovna frowned.
“Stop it, Boris, Liza needs to study.” She looked at her daughter coldly. “Why aren’t you at school?”
Liza blushed again.
“I have a headache.”
Natalia Vladimirovna felt her forehead.
“It’s nothing. You don’t have a fever. You should be ashamed of your laziness.”
Upset, Liza bit her lip.
“I can still go.”
“Of course you must go. You and Kolya shall see me off at the railway station this evening. Well, goodbye.”
And she kissed her distractedly.
IX
IN THE HALLWAY, Liza put on her coat and picked up her satchel, which she had left there the previous day. She didn’t have the right books, but it didn’t matter. She just wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
She walked down the street with her head hanging. Mama had never spoken to her like that before—coldly, almost hostilely. She had been hoping, dreaming… But now Mama was leaving that very evening. That meant that she wouldn’t have time to explain. That meant that everything was lost.
Natalia Vladimirovna returned home just one hour before her departure. Liza rushed towards her.
“Oh, Liza darling, there is so much to do bef
ore I leave.” She put down an armful of bags on the table. “Are my clothes packed? These must be packed, too. Help me, Liza darling, Dasha is utterly useless.”
“I can help,” said Boris.
Natalia Vladimirovna smiled at him lovingly.
“You? You can’t help with anything, you’ll only get in the way.”
Liza was on her knees, kneeling over the wide-open suitcase. Natalia Vladimirovna was passing her bags and issuing instructions.
“Borya’s yellow shoes can go at the bottom, they don’t crease. Careful with the dress. You need to fold the blazer in half. It’s so obvious that you’ve never been married!”
Boris sat in the chair, his legs outstretched. His feet almost touched Liza’s shoes. His neatly coiffured head was inclined to one side; he was smoking and smiling.
“How could I have failed to notice that you have such a lovely little cousin? I’ve seen her countless times before, but never truly noticed her!”
Natalia Vladimirovna suddenly grew angry.
“Tuck your legs away, Boris. Am I supposed to keep jumping over them? Liza, you’re going to crease everything like that. I’ll do it myself. Go to your room.”
“I’ve been really careful, I promise nothing will get creased. I’m almost done.”
“No, go. I’ll do it myself.”
Liza got up.
“What about dinner?”
“We’ve eaten already. Go and get dressed, we’ll be leaving for the station shortly. Is Kolya at home?”
“Yes.”
“Call him down.”
Liza left the room. She sat down on the stairs and rested her head on her lap.
“That’s it. That’s it. There wasn’t time. It’s all been for nothing. Now, I won’t be able to say anything to her.”
“Kolya,” she called, without straying from her step. “Kolya, come down. Natasha is leaving.” She quickly wiped her face with her hand. “I can’t cry. If that horrible man sees, he’ll laugh, and then Mama will be angry. Why is she getting angry? She never used to get angry.”
Natalia Vladimirovna put on her travelling coat.
“Kolya, you’re all grown-up now, and ever so clever.” She stroked his head. “I’m going away for a month, so I’m leaving you money for housekeeping. Here, take it. Now, be sure not to lose it!”
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