“Yes, dear prince, you must look after your health. There are such good doctors abroad; and — besides, the mere change of life, what will not that alone do for you! You must desert your dear Donchanovo, if only for a time!”
“C — certainly, certainly! I’ve long meant to do it. I’m going to try hy — hydropathy!”
“Hydropathy?”
“Yes. I’ve tried it once before: I was abroad, you know, and they persuaded me to try drinking the wa — waters. There wasn’t anything the matter with me, but I agreed, just out of deli — delicacy for their feelings; and I did seem to feel easier, somehow. So I drank, and drank, and dra — ank up a whole waterfall; and I assure you if I hadn’t fallen ill just then I should have been quite well, th — thanks to the water! But, I confess, you’ve frightened me so about these ma — maladies and things, I feel quite put out. I’ll come back d — directly!”
“Why, prince, where are you off to?” asked Maria Alexandrovna in surprise.
“Directly, directly. I’m just going to note down an i — idea!”
“What sort of idea?” cried Paul, bursting with laughter.
Maria Alexandrovna lost all patience.
“I cannot understand what you find to laugh at!” she cried, as the old man disappeared; “to laugh at an honourable old man, and turn every word of his into ridicule — presuming on his angelic good nature. I assure you I blushed for you, Paul Alexandrovitch! Why, what do you see in him to laugh at? I never saw anything funny about him!”
“Well, I laugh because he does not recognise people, and talks such nonsense!”
“That’s simply the result of his sad life, of his dreadful five years’ captivity, under the guardianship of that she-devil! You should pity, not laugh at him! He did not even know me; you saw it yourself. I tell you it’s a crying shame; he must be saved, at all costs! I recommend him to go abroad so that he may get out of the clutches of that — beast of a woman!”
“Do you know what — we must find him a wife!” cried Paul.
“Oh, Mr. Mosgliakoff, you are too bad; you really are too bad!”
“No, no, Maria Alexandrovna; I assure you, this time I’m speaking in all seriousness. Why not marry him off? Isn’t it rather a brilliant idea? What harm can marriage do him? On the contrary, he is in that position that such a step alone can save him! In the first place, he will get rid of that fox of a woman; and, secondly, he may find some girl, or better still some widow — kind, good, wise and gentle, and poor, who will look after him as his own daughter would, and who will be sensible of the honour he does her in making her his wife! And what could be better for the old fellow than to have such a person about him, rather than the — woman he has now? Of course she must be nice-looking, for uncle appreciates good looks; didn’t you observe how he stared at Miss Zina?”
“But how will you find him such a bride?” asked Nastasia Petrovna, who had listened intently to Paul’s suggestion.
“What a question! Why, you yourself, if you pleased! and why not, pray? In the first place, you are good-looking, you are a widow, you are generous, you are poor (at least I don’t think you are very rich). Then you are a very reasonable woman: you’ll learn to love him, and take good care of him; you’ll send that other woman to the deuce, and take your husband abroad, where you will feed him on pudding and lollipops till the moment of his quitting this wicked world, which will be in about a year, or in a couple of months perhaps. After that, you emerge a princess, a rich widow, and, as a prize for your goodness to the old gentleman, you’ll marry a fine young marquis, or a governor-general, or somebody of the sort! There — that’s a pretty enough prospect, isn’t it?”
“Tfu! Goodness me! I should fall in love with him at once, out of pure gratitude, if he only proposed to me!” said the widow, with her black eyes all ablaze; “but, of course, it’s all nonsense!”
“Nonsense, is it? Shall I make it sound sense, then, for you? Ask me prettily, and if I don’t make you his betrothed by this evening, you may cut my little finger off! Why, there’s nothing in the world easier than to talk uncle into anything you please! He’ll only say, ‘Ye — yes, ye — yes,’ just as you heard him now! We’ll marry him so that he doesn’t know anything about it, if you like? We’ll deceive him and marry him, if you please! Any way you like, it can be done! Why, it’s for his own good; it’s out of pity for himself! Don’t you think, seriously, Nastasia Petrovna, that you had better put on some smart clothes in any case?”
Paul’s enthusiasm amounted by now to something like madness, while the widow’s mouth watered at his idea, in spite of her better judgment.
“I know, I know I look horridly untidy!” she said. “I go about anyhow, nowadays! There’s nothing to dress for. Do I really look like a regular cook?”
All this time Maria Alexandrovna sat still, with a strange expression on her face. I shall not be far wrong if I say that she listened to Paul’s wild suggestion with a look of terror, almost: she was confused and startled; at last she recollected herself, and spoke.
“All this is very nice, of course; but at the same time it is utter nonsense, and perfectly out of the question!” she observed cuttingly.
“Why, why, my good Maria Alexandrovna? Why is it such nonsense, or why out of the question?”
“For many reasons; and, principally because you are, as the prince is also, a guest in my house; and I cannot permit anyone to forget their respect towards my establishment! I shall consider your words as a joke, Paul Alexandrovitch, and nothing more! Here comes the prince — thank goodness!”
“Here I am!” cried the old man as he entered. “It’s a wo — wonderful thing how many good ideas of all s — sorts I’m having to-day! and another day I may spend the whole of it without a single one! As — tonishing? not one all day!”
“Probably the result of your accident, to-day, uncle! Your nerves got shaken up, you see, and — —”
“Ye — yes, I think so, I think so too; and I look on the accident as pro — fitable, on the whole; and therefore I’m going to excuse the coachman. I don’t think it was an at — tempt on my life, after all, do you? Besides, he was punished a little while a — go, when his beard was sh — shaved off!”
“Beard shaved off? Why, uncle, his beard is as big as a German state!”
“Ye — yes, a German state, you are very happy in your ex — pressions, my boy! but it’s a fa — false one. Fancy what happened: I sent for a price-current for false hair and beards, and found advertisements for splendid ser — vants’ and coachmen’s beards, very cheap — extraordinarily so! I sent for one, and it certainly was a be — auty. But when we wanted to clap it on the coachman, we found he had one of his own t — twice as big; so I thought, shall I cut off his, or let him wear it, and send this one b — back? and I decided to shave his off, and let him wear the f — false one!”
“On the theory that art is higher than nature, I suppose uncle?”
“Yes, yes! Just so — and I assure you, when we cut off his beard he suffered as much as though we were depriving him of all he held most dear! But we must be go — going, my boy!”
“But I hope, dear prince, that you will only call upon the governor!” cried Maria Alexandrovna, in great agitation. “You are mine now, Prince; you belong to my family for the whole of this day! Of course I will say nothing about the society of this place. Perhaps you are thinking of paying Anna Nicolaevna a visit? I will not say a word to dissuade you; but at the same time I am quite convinced that — time will show! Remember one thing, dear Prince, that I am your sister, your nurse, your guardian for to-day at least, and oh! — I tremble for you. You don’t know these people, Prince, as I do! You don’t know them fully: but time will teach you all you do not know.”
“Trust me, Maria Alexandrovna!” said Paul, “it shall all be exactly as I have promised you!”
“Oh — but you’re such a weathercock! I can never trust you! I shall wait for you at dinner time, Prince; we dine early. How sorry I am tha
t my husband happens to be in the country on such an occasion! How happy he would have been to see you! He esteems you so highly, Prince; he is so sincerely attached to you!”
“Your husband? dear me! So you have a h — husband, too!” observed the old man.
“Oh, prince, prince! how forgetful you are! Why, you have quite, quite forgotten the past! My husband, Afanassy Matveyevitch, surely you must remember him? He is in the country: but you have seen him thousands of times before! Don’t you remember — Afanassy Matveyevitch!”
“Afanassy Matveyevitch. Dear me! — and in the co — country! how very charming! So you have a husband! dear me, I remember a vaudeville very like that, something about —
“The husband’s here,
And his wife at Tvere.”
Charming, charming — such a good rhyme too; and it’s a most ri — diculous story! Charming, charming; the wife’s away, you know, at Jaroslaf or Tv —— or somewhere, and the husband is —— is —— Dear me! I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what we were talking about! Yes, yes — we must be going, my boy! Au revoir, madame; adieu, ma charmante demoiselle” he added, turning to Zina, and putting the ends of her fingers to his lips.
“Come back to dinner, — to dinner, prince! don’t forget to come back here quick!” cried Maria Alexandrovna after them as they went out; “be back to dinner!”
CHAPTER V.
“Nastasia Petrovna, I think you had better go and see what is doing in the kitchen!” observed Maria Alexandrovna, as she returned from seeing the prince off. “I’m sure that rascal Nikitka will spoil the dinner! Probably he’s drunk already!” The widow obeyed.
As the latter left the room, she glanced suspiciously at Maria Alexandrovna, and observed that the latter was in a high state of agitation. Therefore, instead of going to look after Nikitka, she went through the “Salon,” along the passage to her own room, and through that to a dark box-room, where the old clothes of the establishment and such things were stored. There she approached the locked door on tiptoe; and stifling her breath, she bent to the keyhole, through which she peeped, and settled herself to listen intently. This door, which was always kept shut, was one of the three doors communicating with the room where Maria Alexandrovna and Zina were now left alone. Maria Alexandrovna always considered Nastasia an untrustworthy sort of woman, although extremely silly into the bargain. Of course she had suspected the widow — more than once — of eavesdropping; but it so happened that at the moment Madame Moskaleva was too agitated and excited to think of the usual precautions.
She was sitting in her arm-chair and gazing at Zina. Zina felt that her mother was looking at her, and was conscious of an unpleasant sensation at her heart.
“Zina!”
Zina slowly turned her head towards the speaker, and lifted her splendid dark eyes to hers.
“Zina, I wish to speak to you on a most important matter!”
Zina adopted an attentive air, and sat still with folded hands, waiting for light. In her face there was an expression of annoyance as well as irony, which she did her best to hide.
“I wish to ask you first, Zina, what you thought of that Mosgliakoff, to-day?”
“You have known my opinion of him for a long time!” replied Zina, surlily.
“Yes, yes, of course! but I think he is getting just a little too troublesome, with his continual bothering you—”
“Oh, but he says he is in love with me, in which case his importunity is pardonable!”
“Strange! You used not to be so ready to find his offences pardonable; you used to fly out at him if ever I mentioned his name!”
“Strange, too, that you always defended him, and were so very anxious that I should marry him! — and now you are the first to attack him!”
“Yes; I don’t deny, Zina, that I did wish, then, to see you married to Mosgliakoff! It was painful to me to witness your continual grief, your sufferings, which I can well realize — whatever you may think to the contrary! — and which deprived me of my rest at night! I determined at last that there was but one great change of life that would ever save you from the sorrows of the past, and that change was matrimony! We are not rich; we cannot afford to go abroad. All the asses in the place prick their long ears, and wonder that you should be unmarried at twenty-three years old; and they must needs invent all sorts of stories to account for the fact! As if I would marry you to one of our wretched little town councillors, or to Ivan Ivanovitch, the family lawyer! There are no husbands for you in this place, Zina! Of course Paul Mosgliakoff is a silly sort of a fellow, but he is better than these people here: he is fairly born, at least, and he has 150 serfs and landed property, all of which is better than living by bribes and corruption, and goodness knows what jobbery besides, as these do! and that is why I allowed my eyes to rest on him. But I give you my solemn word, I never had any real sympathy for him! and if Providence has sent you someone better now, oh, my dear girl, how fortunate that you have not given your word to Mosgliakoff! You didn’t tell him anything for certain to-day, did you, Zina?”
“What is the use of beating about the bush, when the whole thing lies in a couple of words?” said Zina, with some show of annoyance.
“Beating about the bush, Zina? Is that the way to speak to your mother? But what am I? You have long ceased to trust to your poor mother! You have long looked upon me as your enemy, and not as your mother at all!”
“Oh, come mother! you and I are beyond quarrelling about an expression! Surely we understand one another by now? It is about time we did, anyhow!”
“But you offend me, my child! you will not believe that I am ready to devote all, all I can give, in order to establish your destiny on a safe and happy footing!”
Zina looked angrily and sarcastically at her mother.
“Would not you like to marry me to this old prince, now, in order to establish my destiny on a safe and happy footing?”
“I have not said a word about it; but, as you mention the fact, I will say that if you were to marry the prince it would be a very happy thing for you, and—”
“Oh! Well, I consider the idea utter nonsense!” cried the girl passionately. “Nonsense, humbug! and what’s more, I think you have a good deal too much poetical inspiration, mamma; you are a woman poet in the fullest sense of the term, and they call you by that name here! You are always full of projects; and the impracticability and absurdity of your ideas does not in the least discourage you. I felt, when the prince was sitting here, that you had that notion in your head. When Mosgliakoff was talking nonsense there about marrying the old man to somebody I read all your thoughts in your face. I am ready to bet any money that you are thinking of it now, and that you have come to me now about this very question! However, as your perpetual projects on my behalf are beginning to weary me to death, I must beg you not to say one word about it, not one word, mamma; do you hear me? not one word; and I beg you will remember what I say!” She was panting with rage.
“You are a child, Zina; a poor sorrow-worn, sick child!” said Maria Alexandrovna in tearful accents. “You speak to your poor mother disrespectfully; you wound me deeply, my dear; there is not another mother in the world who would have borne what I have to bear from you every day! But you are suffering, you are sick, you are sorrowful, and I am your mother, and, first of all, I am a Christian woman! I must bear it all, and forgive it. But one word, Zina: if I had really thought of the union you suggest, why would you consider it so impracticable and absurd? In my opinion, Mosgliakoff has never said a wiser thing than he did to-day, when he declared that marriage was what alone could save the prince, — not, of course, marriage with that slovenly slut, Nastasia; there he certainly did make a fool of himself!”
“Now look here, mamma; do you ask me this out of pure curiosity, or with design? Tell me the truth.”
“All I ask is, why does it appear to you to be so absurd?”
“Good heavens, mother, you’ll drive me wild! What a fate!” cried Zina, stamping her foot with impatie
nce. “I’ll tell you why, if you can’t see for yourself. Not to mention all the other evident absurdities of the plan, to take advantage of the weakened wits of a poor old man, and deceive him and marry him — an old cripple, in order to get hold of his money, — and then every day and every hour to wish for his death, is, in my opinion, not only nonsense, but so mean, so mean, mamma, that I — I can’t congratulate you on your brilliant idea; that’s all I can say!”
There was silence for one minute.
“Zina, do you remember all that happened two years ago?” asked Maria Alexandrovna of a sudden.
Zina trembled.
“Mamma!” she said, severely, “you promised me solemnly never to mention that again.”
“And I ask you now, as solemnly, my dear child, to allow me to break that promise, just once! I have never broken it before. Zina! the time has come for a full and clear understanding between us! These two years of silence have been terrible. We cannot go on like this. I am ready to pray you, on my knees, to let me speak. Listen, Zina, your own mother who bore you beseeches you, on her knees! And I promise you faithfully, Zina, and solemnly, on the word of an unhappy but adoring mother, that never, under any circumstances, not even to save my life, will I ever mention the subject again. This shall be the last time, but it is absolutely necessary!”
Maria Alexandrovna counted upon the effect of her words, and with reason:
“Speak, then!” said Zina, growing whiter every moment.
“Thank you, Zina! —— Two years ago there came to the house, to teach your little brother Mitya, since dead, a tutor — —”
“Why do you begin so solemnly, mamma? Why all this eloquence, all these quite unnecessary details, which are painful to me, and only too well known to both of us?” cried Zina with a sort of irritated disgust.
“Because, my dear child, I, your mother, felt in some degree bound to justify myself before you; and also because I wish to present this whole question to you from an entirely new point of view, and not from that mistaken position which you are accustomed to take up with regard to it; and because, lastly, I think you will thus better understand the conclusion at which I shall arrive upon the whole question. Do not think, dear child, that I wish to trifle with your heart! No, Zina, you will find in me a real mother; and perhaps, with tears streaming from your eyes, you will ask and beseech at my feet — at the feet of the ‘mean woman,’ as you have just called me, — yes, and pray for that reconciliation which you have rejected so long! That’s why I wish to recall all, Zina, all that has happened, from the very beginning; and without this I shall not speak at all!”
Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky Page 57