Nejdanov took her hands and pressed them against his breast.
“I am happy, Mariana, to begin this new life with you! You will be my guiding star, my support, my strength — ”
“Dear, darling Aliosha! But stop — we must wash and tidy ourselves a little. I will go into my room... and you... stay here. I won’t be a minute — ”
Mariana went into the other room and shut the door. A minute later she opened it half - way and, putting her head through, said: “Isn’t Solomin nice!” Then she shut the door again and the key turned in the lock.
Nejdanov went up to the window and looked out into the garden... One old, very old, apple tree particularly attracted his attention. He shook himself, stretched, opened his portmanteau, but took nothing out of it; he became lost in thought...
A quarter of an hour later Mariana returned with a beaming, freshly - washed face, brimming over with gaiety, and a few minutes later Tatiana, Pavel’s wife, appeared with the samovar, tea things, rolls, and cream.
In striking contrast to her gipsy - like husband she was a typical Russian — buxom, with masses of flaxen hair, which she wore in a thick plait twisted round a horn comb. She had coarse though pleasant features, good - natured grey eyes, and was dressed in a very neat though somewhat faded print dress. Her hands were clean and well - shaped, though large. She bowed composedly, greeted them in a firm, clear accent without any sing - song about it, and set to work arranging the tea things.
Mariana went up to her.
“Let me help you, Tatiana. Only give me a napkin.”
“Don’t bother, miss, we are used to it. Vassily Fedotitch told me to. If you want anything please let us know. We shall be delighted to do anything we can.”
“Please don’t call me miss, Tatiana. I am dressed like a lady, but I am... I am quite — ”
Tatiana’s penetrating glance disconcerted Mariana; she ceased.
“And what are you then?” Tatiana asked in her steady voice.
“If you really want to know... I am certainly a lady by birth. But I want to get rid of all that. I want to become like all simple women.”
“Oh, I see! You want to become simplified, like so many do nowadays.”
“What did you say, Tatiana? To become simplified?”
“Yes, that’s a word that has sprung up among us. To become simplified means to be like the common people. Teaching the people is all very well in its way, but it must be a difficult task, very difficult! I hope you’ll get on.”
“To become simplified!” Mariana repeated. “Do you hear, Aliosha, you and I have now become simplified!”
“Is he your husband or your brother?” Tatiana asked, carefully washing the cups with her large, skilful hands as she looked from one to the other with a kindly smile.
“No,” Mariana replied; “he is neither my husband nor my brother.”
Tatiana raised her head.
“Then you are just living together freely? That also happens very often now. At one time it was to be met with only among nonconformists, but nowadays other folks do it too. Where there is God’s blessing you can live in peace without the priest’s aid. We have some living like that at the factory. Not the worst of folk either.”
“What nice words you use, Tatiana! ‘Living together freely’... I like that. I’ll tell you what I want to ask of you, Tatiana. I want to make or buy a dress, something like yours, only a little plainer. Then I want shoes and stockings and a kerchief — everything like you have. I’ve got some money.”
“That’s quite easy, miss... There, there, don’t be cross. I won’t call you miss if you don’t like it. But what am I to call you?”
“Call me Mariana.”
“And what is your father’s Christian name?”
“Why do you want my father’s name? Call me simply Mariana, as I call you Tatiana.”
“I don’t like to somehow. You had better tell me.”
“As you like. My father’s name was Vikent. And what was your father’s?
“He was called Osip.”
“Then I shall call you Tatiana Osipovna.”
“And I’ll call you Mariana Vikentievna. That will be splendid.”
“Won’t you take a cup of tea with us, Tatiana Osipovna?”
“For once I will, Mariana Vikentievna, although Egoritch will scold me afterwards.”
“Who is Egoritch?”
“Pavel, my husband.”
“Sit down, Tatiana Osipovna.”
“Thank you, Mariana Vikentievna.”
Tatiana sat down and began sipping her tea and nibbling pieces of sugar. She kept turning the lump of sugar round in her fingers, screwing up her eye on the side on which she bit it. Mariana entered into conversation with her and she replied quite at her ease, asked questions in her turn, and volunteered various pieces of information. She simply worshipped Solomin and put her husband only second to him. She did not, however, care for the factory life.
“It’s neither town nor country here. I wouldn’t stop an hour if it were not for Vassily Fedotitch!”
Mariana listened to her attentively, while Nejdanov, sitting a little to one side, watched her and wondered at her interest. For Mariana it was all so new, but it seemed to him that he had seen crowds of women like Tatiana and spoken to them hundreds of times.
“Do you know, Tatiana Osipovna?” Mariana began at last; “you think that we want to teach the people, but we want to serve them.”
“Serve them? Teach them; that’s the best thing you can do for them. Look at me, for instance. When I married Egoritch I didn’t so much as know how to read and write. Now I’ve learned, thanks to Vassily Fedotitch. He didn’t teach me himself, he paid an old man to do it. It was he who taught me. You see I’m still young, although I’m grown up.”
Mariana was silent.
“I wanted to learn some sort of trade, Tatiana Osipovna,” Mariana began; “we must talk about that later on. I’m not good at sewing, but if I could learn to cook, then I could go out as a cook.”
Tatiana became thoughtful.
“Why a cook? Only rich people and merchants keep cooks; the poor do their own cooking. And to cook at a mess for workmen... why you couldn’t do that!”
“But I could live in a rich man’s house and get to know poor people. How else can I get to know them? I shall not always have such an opportunity as I have with you.”
Tatiana turned her empty cup upside down on the saucer.
“It’s a difficult matter,” she said at last with a sigh, “and can’t be settled so easily. I’ll do what I can, but I’m not very clever. We must talk it over with Egoritch. He’s clever if you like! Reads all sorts of books and has everything at his fingers’ ends.” At this point she glanced at Mariana who was rolling up a cigarette.
“You’ll excuse me, Mariana Vikentievna, but if you really want to become simplified you must give that up.” She pointed to the cigarette. “If you want to be a cook, that would never do. Everyone would see at once that you are a lady.”
Mariana threw the cigarette out of the window.
“I won’t smoke any more... It’s quite easy to give that up. Women of the people don’t smoke, so I suppose I ought not to.”
“That’s quite true, Mariana Vikentievna. Our men indulge in it, but not the women. And here’s Vassily Fedotitch coming to see you. Those are his steps. You ask him. He’ll arrange everything for you in the best possible way.”
Solomin’s voice was heard at the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Come in, come in!” Mariana called out.
“It’s an English habit of mine,” Solomin observed as he came in. “Well, and how are you getting on? Not homesick yet, eh? I see you’re having tea with Tatiana. You listen to her, she’s a sensible person. My employer is coming today. It’s rather a nuisance. He’s staying to dinner. But it can’t be helped. He’s the master.”
“What sort of a man is he?” Nejdanov asked, coming out of his corner.
&
nbsp; “Oh, he’s not bad... knows what he’s about. One of the new generation. He’s very polite, wears cuffs, and has his eyes about him no less than the old sort. He would skin a flint with his own hands and say, ‘Turn to this side a little, please... there is still a living spot here... I must clean it!’ He’s nice enough to me, because I’m necessary to him. I just looked in to say that I may not get a chance of seeing you again today. Dinner will be brought to you here, and please don’t show yourselves in the yard. Do you think the Sipiagins will make a search for you, Mariana? Will they make a hunt?”
“I don’t think so,” Mariana replied.
“And I think they will,” Nejdanov remarked.
“It doesn’t matter either way,” Solomin continued. “You must be a little careful at first, but in a short time you can do as you like.”
“Yes; only there’s one thing,” Nejdanov observed, “Markelov must know where I am; he must be informed.”
“But why?”
“I am afraid it must be done — for the cause. He must always know my whereabouts. I’ve given my word. But he’s quite safe, you know!”
“Very well. We can send Pavel.”
“And will my clothes be ready for me?”
“Your special costume you mean? Why, of course... the same masquerade. It’s not expensive at any rate. Goodbye. You must be tired. Come, Tatiana.”
Mariana and Nejdanov were left alone again.
XXVIII
FIRST they clasped each other’s hands, then Mariana offered to help him tidy his room. She immediately began unpacking his portmanteau and bag, declining his offer of help on the ground that she must get used to work and wished to do it all herself. She hung his clothes on nails which she discovered in the table drawer and knocked into the wall with the back of a hairbrush for want of a hammer. Then she arranged his linen in a little old chest of drawers standing in between the two windows.
“What is this?” she asked suddenly. “Why, it’s a revolver. Is it loaded? What do you want it for?”
“It is not loaded... but you had better give it to me. You want to know why I have it? How can one get on without a revolver in our calling?”
She laughed and went on with her work, shaking each thing out separately and beating it with her hand; she even stood two pairs of boots under the sofa; the few books, packet of papers, and tiny copy - book of verses she placed triumphantly upon a three - cornered table, calling it a writing and work table, while the other, a round one, she called a dining and tea table. Then she took up the copy - book of verses in both hands and, raising it on a level with her face, looked over the edge at Nejdanov and said with a smile:
“We will read this together when we have some time to spare, won’t we?
“Give it to me! I’ll burn it!” Nejdanov burst out. “That’s all it’s fit for!
“Then why did you take it with you? No, I won’t let you burn it. However, authors are always threatening to burn their things, but they never do. I will put it in my room.”
Nejdanov was just about to protest when Mariana rushed into the next room with the copy - book and came back without it.
She sat down beside him, but instantly got up again. “You have not yet been in my room; would you like to see it? It’s quite as nice as yours. Come and look.”
Nejdanov rose and followed her. Her room, as she called it, was somewhat smaller than his, but the furniture was altogether smarter and newer. Some flowers in a crystal vase stood on the window - sill and there was an iron bedstead in a corner.
“Isn’t Solomin a darling!” Mariana exclaimed. “But we mustn’t get too spoiled. I don’t suppose we shall often have rooms like these. Do you know what I’ve been thinking? It would be rather nice if we could get a place together so that we need not part! It will probably be difficult,” she added after a pause; “but we must think of it. But all the same, you won’t go back to St. Petersburg, will you?
“What should I do in St. Petersburg? Attend lectures at the university or give lessons? That’s no use to me now.”
“We must ask Solomin,” Mariana observed. “He will know best.”
They went back to the other room and sat down beside each other again. They praised Solomin, Tatiana, Pavel; spoke of the Sipiagins and how their former life had receded from them far into the distance, as if enveloped in a mist; then they clasped each other’s hand again, exchanged tender glances; wondered what class they had better go among first, and how to behave so that people should not suspect them.
Nejdanov declared that the less they thought about that, and the more naturally they behaved, the better.
“Of course! We want to become simple, as Tatiana says.”
“I didn’t mean it in that sense,” Nejdanov began; “I meant that we must not be self - conscious.”
Mariana suddenly burst out laughing.
“Do you remember, Aliosha, how I said that we had both become simplified?”
Nejdanov also laughed, repeated “simplified,” and began musing. Mariana too became pensive.
“Aliosha!” she exclaimed.
“What is it?”
“It seems to me that we are both a little uncomfortable. Young — des nouveaux maries,” she explained, “when away on their honeymoon no doubt feel as we do. They are happy... all is well with them — but they feel uncomfortable.”
Nejdanov gave a forced smile.
“You know very well, Mariana, that we are not young in that sense.”
Mariana rose from her chair and stood before him.
“That depends on yourself.”
“How?”
“Aliosha, you know, dear, that when you tell me, as a man of honour... and I will believe you because I know you are honourable; when you tell me that you love me with that love... the love that gives one person the right over another’s life, when you tell me that — I am yours.”
Nejdanov blushed and turned away a little.
“When I tell you that...
“Yes, then! But you see, Aliosha, you don’t say that to me now... Oh yes, Aliosha, you are truly an honourable man. Enough of this! Let us talk of more serious things.”
“But I do love you, Mariana!”
“I don’t doubt that... and shall wait. But there, I have not quite finished arranging your writing table. Here is something wrapped up, something hard.”
Nejdanov sprang up from his chair.
“Don’t touch that, Mariana... Leave it alone, please!”
Mariana looked at him over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows in amazement.
Is it a mystery? A secret? Have you a secret?
“Yes... yes...” Nejdanov stammered out, and added by way of explanation, “it’s a portrait.”
The word escaped him unawares. The packet Mariana held in her hand was her own portrait, which Markelov had given Nejdanov.
“A portrait?” she drawled out. “Is it a woman’s?”
She handed him the packet, which he took so clumsily that it slipped out of his hand and fell open.
“Why... it’s my portrait!” Mariana exclaimed quickly. “I suppose I may look at my own portrait.” She took it out of Nejdanov’s hand.
“Did you do it?”
“No... I didn’t.”
“Who then? Markelov?”
“Yes, you’ve guessed right.”
“Then how did it come to be in your possession?”
“He gave it to me.”
“When?”
Nejdanov told her when and under what circumstances. While he was speaking Mariana glanced from him to the portrait. The same thought flashed across both their minds. “If HE were in this room, then HE would have the right to demand...” But neither Mariana nor Nejdanov gave expression to this thought in words, perhaps because each was conscious what was in the other’s mind.
Mariana quietly wrapped the portrait up again in its paper and put it on the table.
“What a good man he is!” she murmured. “I wonder where he is now?”
“Why, at home of course. Tomorrow or the day after I must go and see him about some books and pamphlets. He promised to give me some, but evidently forgot to do so before I left.”
“And do you think, Aliosha, that when he gave you this portrait he renounced everything... absolutely everything?”
“I think so.”
“Do you think you will find him at home?”
“Of course.”
“Ah!” Mariana lowered her eyes and dropped her hands at her sides. “But here comes Tatiana with our dinner,” she exclaimed suddenly. “Isn’t she a dear!”
Tatiana appeared with the knives and forks, serviettes, plates and dishes. While laying the table she related all the news about the factory. “The master came from Moscow by rail and started running from floor to floor like a madman. Of course he doesn’t understand anything and does it only for show — to set an example so to speak. Vassily Fedotitch treats him like a child. The master wanted to make some unpleasantness, but Vassily Fedotitch soon shut him up. ‘I’ll throw it up this minute,’ he said, so he soon began to sing small. They are having dinner now. The master brought someone with him. A Moscow swell who does nothing but admire everything. He must be very rich, I think, by the way he holds his tongue and shakes his head. And so stout, very stout! A real swell! No wonder there’s a saying that ‘Moscow lies at the foot of Russia and everything rolls down to her.’“
“How you notice everything!” Mariana exclaimed.
“Yes, I do rather,” Tatiana observed. “Well, here is your dinner. Come and have it and I’ll sit and look at you for a little while.”
Mariana and Nejdanov sat down to table, whilst Tatiana sat down on the window - sill and rested her cheek in her hand.
“I watch you...” she observed. “And what dear, young, tender creatures you are. You’re so nice to look at that it quite makes my heart ache. Ah, my dear! You are taking a heavier burden on your shoulders than you can bear. It’s people like you that the tsar’s folk are ready to put into prison.”
A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1 Page 117