it or not as you please. There--that’sall.”
“Only, of course that’s not nearly your worst action,” said the actress,with evident dislike in her face.
“That was a psychological phenomenon, not an action,” remarked Totski.
“And what about the maid?” asked Nastasia Philipovna, with undisguisedcontempt.
“Oh, she was turned out next day, of course. It’s a very stricthousehold, there!”
“And you allowed it?”
“I should think so, rather! I was not going to return and confessnext day,” laughed Ferdishenko, who seemed a little surprised at thedisagreeable impression which his story had made on all parties.
“How mean you were!” said Nastasia.
“Bah! you wish to hear a man tell of his worst actions, and you expectthe story to come out goody-goody! One’s worst actions always are mean.We shall see what the general has to say for himself now. All is notgold that glitters, you know; and because a man keeps his carriage heneed not be specially virtuous, I assure you, all sorts of people keepcarriages. And by what means?”
In a word, Ferdishenko was very angry and rapidly forgetting himself;his whole face was drawn with passion. Strange as it may appear, he hadexpected much better success for his story. These little errors of tasteon Ferdishenko’s part occurred very frequently. Nastasia trembled withrage, and looked fixedly at him, whereupon he relapsed into alarmedsilence. He realized that he had gone a little too far.
“Had we not better end this game?” asked Totski.
“It’s my turn, but I plead exemption,” said Ptitsin.
“You don’t care to oblige us?” asked Nastasia.
“I cannot, I assure you. I confess I do not understand how anyone canplay this game.”
“Then, general, it’s your turn,” continued Nastasia Philipovna, “and ifyou refuse, the whole game will fall through, which will disappoint mevery much, for I was looking forward to relating a certain ‘page of myown life.’ I am only waiting for you and Afanasy Ivanovitch to have yourturns, for I require the support of your example,” she added, smiling.
“Oh, if you put it in that way,” cried the general, excitedly, “I’mready to tell the whole story of my life, but I must confess that Iprepared a little story in anticipation of my turn.”
Nastasia smiled amiably at him; but evidently her depression andirritability were increasing with every moment. Totski was dreadfullyalarmed to hear her promise a revelation out of her own life.
“I, like everyone else,” began the general, “have committed certain notaltogether graceful actions, so to speak, during the course of my life.But the strangest thing of all in my case is, that I should consider thelittle anecdote which I am now about to give you as a confession ofthe worst of my ‘bad actions.’ It is thirty-five years since it allhappened, and yet I cannot to this very day recall the circumstanceswithout, as it were, a sudden pang at the heart.
“It was a silly affair--I was an ensign at the time. You knowensigns--their blood is boiling water, their circumstances generallypenurious. Well, I had a servant Nikifor who used to do everything forme in my quarters, economized and managed for me, and even laid hands onanything he could find (belonging to other people), in order to augmentour household goods; but a faithful, honest fellow all the same.
“I was strict, but just by nature. At that time we were stationed ina small town. I was quartered at an old widow’s house, a lieutenant’swidow of eighty years of age. She lived in a wretched little woodenhouse, and had not even a servant, so poor was she.
“Her relations had all died off--her husband was dead and buried fortyyears since; and a niece, who had lived with her and bullied her up tothree years ago, was dead too; so that she was quite alone.
“Well, I was precious dull with her, especially as she was so childishthat there was nothing to be got out of her. Eventually, she stole afowl of mine; the business is a mystery to this day; but it could havebeen no one but herself. I requested to be quartered somewhere else,and was shifted to the other end of the town, to the house of a merchantwith a large family, and a long beard, as I remember him. Nikifor and Iwere delighted to go; but the old lady was not pleased at our departure.
“Well, a day or two afterwards, when I returned from drill, Nikiforsays to me: ‘We oughtn’t to have left our tureen with the old lady, I’venothing to serve the soup in.’
“I asked how it came about that the tureen had been left. Nikiforexplained that the old lady refused to give it up, because, she said,we had broken her bowl, and she must have our tureen in place of it; shehad declared that I had so arranged the matter with herself.
“This baseness on her part of course aroused my young blood to feverheat; I jumped up, and away I flew.
“I arrived at the old woman’s house beside myself. She was sitting ina corner all alone, leaning her face on her hand. I fell on her like aclap of thunder. ‘You old wretch!’ I yelled and all that sort of thing,in real Russian style. Well, when I began cursing at her, a strangething happened. I looked at her, and she stared back with her eyesstarting out of her head, but she did not say a word. She seemed tosway about as she sat, and looked and looked at me in the strangestway. Well, I soon stopped swearing and looked closer at her, asked herquestions, but not a word could I get out of her. The flies were buzzingabout the room and only this sound broke the silence; the sun wassetting outside; I didn’t know what to make of it, so I went away.
“Before I reached home I was met and summoned to the major’s, so that itwas some while before I actually got there. When I came in, Nikifor metme. ‘Have you heard, sir, that our old lady is dead?’ ‘_dead_, when?’ ‘Oh,an hour and a half ago.’ That meant nothing more nor less than that shewas dying at the moment when I pounced on her and began abusing her.
“This produced a great effect upon me. I used to dream of the poor oldwoman at nights. I really am not superstitious, but two days after, Iwent to her funeral, and as time went on I thought more and more abouther. I said to myself, ‘This woman, this human being, lived to a greatage. She had children, a husband and family, friends and relations; herhousehold was busy and cheerful; she was surrounded by smiling faces;and then suddenly they are gone, and she is left alone like a solitaryfly... like a fly, cursed with the burden of her age. At last, God callsher to Himself. At sunset, on a lovely summer’s evening, my little oldwoman passes away--a thought, you will notice, which offers much foodfor reflection--and behold! instead of tears and prayers to start heron her last journey, she has insults and jeers from a young ensign, whostands before her with his hands in his pockets, making a terrible rowabout a soup tureen!’ Of course I was to blame, and even now that I havetime to look back at it calmly, I pity the poor old thing no less.I repeat that I wonder at myself, for after all I was not reallyresponsible. Why did she take it into her head to die at that moment?But the more I thought of it, the more I felt the weight of it upon mymind; and I never got quite rid of the impression until I put a coupleof old women into an almshouse and kept them there at my own expense.There, that’s all. I repeat I dare say I have committed many a grievoussin in my day; but I cannot help always looking back upon this as theworst action I have ever perpetrated.”
“H’m! and instead of a bad action, your excellency has detailed one ofyour noblest deeds,” said Ferdishenko. “Ferdishenko is ‘done.’”
“Dear me, general,” said Nastasia Philipovna, absently, “I really neverimagined you had such a good heart.”
The general laughed with great satisfaction, and applied himself oncemore to the champagne.
It was now Totski’s turn, and his story was awaited with greatcuriosity--while all eyes turned on Nastasia Philipovna, as thoughanticipating that his revelation must be connected somehow with her.Nastasia, during the whole of his story, pulled at the lace trimming ofher sleeve, and never once glanced at the speaker. Totski was a handsomeman, rather stout, with a very polite and dignified manner. He wasalways well dressed, and his linen was exquisite. He h
ad plump whitehands, and wore a magnificent diamond ring on one finger.
“What simplifies the duty before me considerably, in my opinion,” hebegan, “is that I am bound to recall and relate the very worst action ofmy life. In such circumstances there can, of course, be no doubt. One’sconscience very soon informs one what is the proper narrative to tell. Iadmit, that among the many silly and thoughtless actions of my life, thememory of one comes prominently forward and reminds me that it lay longlike a stone on my heart. Some twenty years since, I paid a visit toPlaton Ordintzeff at his country-house. He had just been elected marshalof the nobility, and had come there with his young wife for the winterholidays. Anfisa Alexeyevna’s birthday came off just then, too, andthere were two balls arranged. At that time Dumas-fils’ beautiful work,_La Dame aux Camélias_--a novel which I consider imperishable--had justcome into fashion. In the provinces all the ladies were in raptures overit, those who had read it, at least. Camellias were all the fashion.Everyone inquired for them, everybody wanted them; and a grand lot ofcamellias are to be got in a
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