“I don’t understand,” Ovcharov replied, preoccupied with a matter of his own.
And this matter was, indeed, rather odd. Like Ovcharov, Katerina Petrovna Repekhova-Dolgovskaya was a dyed-in-the-wool Muscovite, and she had known him since his student days, when she had been, as they say, frisant la quarantaine.1 Then, as now, no one ever saw her husband at home. He held an honorary and purely titular position having to do with a Moscow almshouse. He lived at his club, where he passed the time at the lotto table. Katerina Petrovna was seen as an abandoned woman, but this did not make her interesting as it does many other women. Neither flirted with nor pitied, she very much wanted to be both. But she was ugly and must not have been sufficiently eloquent in lamenting her fate or sufficiently skilled at finding helpers to interest Moscow society in her woes.
She went out often and was well provided for. Thanks to her husband’s name, she was not at the bottom of the drawing-room hierarchy. But that was not enough for Katerina Petrovna. From the age of thirty, despite her efforts to the contrary, she was placed among the ranks of venerable ladies. Along with many other lackluster personalities, in obedience to fashion, she moved from circle to circle as fashion dictated, always keeping up with generally held opinions. When the time came, she joined those eager to submit to the yoke placed on Moscow society by a new representative of the St. Petersburg authorities.2 She acknowledged the delights of this yoke, spent a fortune on the privilege of being in the presence of the powerful, sought friendship, sought, without any necessity, the most lowly of those who were close to the powerful, and fawned over the powerful to the point of indulging their every whim. She appeared to be enjoying life as much as everyone else, but this appearance belied a secret sorrow. Katerina Petrovna was tormented by frustrated pride. Katerina Petrovna could not compel people to talk about her—talk about her in any way at all. Nobody said anything about her. She was invisible. Visitors to her salon did nothing but yawn.
But suddenly her life changed dramatically. Lotto was shut down in the clubs, and one fine morning Mr. Repekhov-Dolgovsky found himself back home. He fell ill and did not eat for three days. Katerina Petrovna surrounded him with the most tender attention and finally, for the first time in her life, there started to be a little talk about her. She was triumphant. In her mind, she had succeeded in proving that a woman like her—although she might not be capable of summoning an illicit passion—could at least restore a wayward lawful passion, which is even harder. This triumph, however, was not trouble-free. Despite the care lavished on him, Mr. Repekhov-Dolgovsky did not attain a healthy state of mind. He languished and was overcome by hypochondria. Finally, he reached such a state that he allowed himself to be taken away for fresh air without the slightest resistance. Katerina Petrovna took him to the country. There, over the course of three years, she gave birth to two children—the first after many years of marriage. Katerina Petrovna was inexpressibly happy.
Utterly convinced that her spouse was just as inexpressibly happy as she and desiring to tether him to the family hearth for good, she did not allow his attention to stray from their little ones for a second. The little ones slept in their bedroom, and half the responsibilities involved in their care were assigned to Mr. Repekhov-Dolgovsky. The entire process of feeding and caring for the babies was carried out before his eyes.
The couple’s family life appeared to have gained a firm footing when one day, upon awakening to the particularly resonant squeaking of the children, Mr. Repekhov-Dolgovsky suddenly had a thought. He ran off to play preferans at a neighbor’s.3 Less than a week later man and wife were living in separate worlds back in Moscow. He took up permanent residence at the card table, she, at home.
Katerina Petrovna was devastated. Looking around, she could see that everyone had forgotten her, and to live for the children alone was not enough. Katerina Petrovna thought and thought and finally, for the first time in her life, reason tactfully suggested exactly how she could ease her grief. She stoically accepted the designation “most venerable” and with incredible effort renewed her acquaintances and chose her craft. She entered the field of high-society matchmaking. In other words, she took upon herself the role of helper to ladies whose hobby it was to arrange (and, in some cases, disarrange) marriages. Katerina Petrovna was used to perform lowly errands, and she bustled about zealously, not noticing the pitiable nature of her role. At first she conducted her business rather timidly, then a bit more forcefully, until, finally, Katerina Petrovna came into her own. She had succeeded: they were talking about her, they were asking her advice, they were even kissing her hand. And by the end of some four years, everyone knew Katerina Petrovna.
One wedding in particular promoted her ascent. Entirely on her own, she managed to get a cadet—the master of two hundred souls who had been caught up in a bit of mischief—for a hunchbacked damsel of princely family. Before the cadet realized what was happening, he was married, and Katerina Petrovna grew by 20 percent in Moscow’s esteem. Playing such a valuable role in society, being allowed into families to the point of intimité¸ even becoming privy to family secrets, and adding to her designation of “most venerable” the additional label of “most useful” of women, Katerina Petrovna began to live happily. Meanwhile, her children were growing and additional titles were showered on the tender mother. She was called “an enlightened woman of high moral standards.” Apparently, that was enough for her.
Ovcharov had known Katerina Petrovna through all the periods of her life. He went to visit her and even sat through her evening gatherings. Why? Lord only knows. Ovcharov never had any business with Katerina Petrovna. He did not praise her, but he went. The fifty-year-old hostess, the growing children—the aged and the underage—the atmosphere of matchmaking all around: rather dull, one would think. Ovcharov did indeed find it dull, but he nevertheless went.
Given all this, Katerina Petrovna’s behavior now seemed all the stranger to him. It smacked of ingratitude. “People like me are not to be slighted,” he thought, and rightly so. “Or is there something else afoot here? It would be a fine fancy for someone with a face like Katerina Petrovna’s, and at her age! However, I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
As soon as Olenka left, he wrote a note. “Comment m’ordonnerez vous d’interpréter, Madame?…”4
But that was not quite right. “She might get ideas,” Ovcharov thought and took a new sheet of paper.
“Kind Madame, Katerina Petrovna…”
But that too was torn up. Finally, he managed to complete a note.
Erast Sergeyevich Ovcharov most humbly requests the most venerable and kind Katerina Petrovna to explain to him why she so ungraciously saw fit to fail to remember him this morning when he had the pleasure of seeing her carriage in the village of Snetki at the home of Madame Chulkova.
E. Ovcharov.
The message was sent by courier, and on that same day Ovcharov himself prepared to go into town. The confused state of affairs at Beryozovka meant that he would have to exert himself in various offices, visit various officials, and perform many other such dreary tasks. Ovcharov set off in a state of despair at the thought that several days without whey might delay his return to health by Lord knows how long.
1. French: Approaching her forties.
2. This is presumably a reference to Count Arseny Zakrevsky (1783–1865), who served as governor-general of Moscow from 1848 to 1859 and had a reputation as a petty tyrant and reactionary.
3. Preferans was an extremely popular card game played for money among the Russian upper classes during the nineteenth century.
4. French: How would you have me interpret, Madame?
While Ovcharov was distressed by the prospect of future unpleasantness, Nastasya Ivanovna was overtaken by such misfortune in the present that, had it not been for her iron constitution and the fact that she was noblewoman of so humble a domain as the village of Snetki, physicians would surely have ordered her to undergo a three-year course of treatment.
“Mama, y
ou won’t believe the trick they’ve played on us,” Olenka exclaimed as she flew into the parlor an hour after her meeting with Ovcharov, her face flushed with anger. “Have you heard? It’s beyond anything!”
Nastasya Ivanovna was sitting alone on the couch in the parlor like a guest, her hands folded in her lap as she gazed blankly ahead. She herself looked beyond anything. She looked lost.
“Enough of your nonsense,” she replied quietly, under her breath. “I’ve already got more than I can deal with.”
“What do you mean, nonsense? Listen to me.”
“Listen to what? Don’t shout, for the love of God: the doors aren’t made of stone. What should we do about Anna Ilinishna? What should we do, Olenka?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“There’s nothing you can say. I’m sitting here like a madwoman. Where have you been? You’ve missed it all. I’m all alone here losing my mind. So, this is how we’ll be living now. For a whole hour I’ve been at her door pounding like a pestle, but she won’t open.”
“What for?”
“What do you mean, what for? Ninny! Ever since Katerina Petrovna left, I can’t get a word out of her. She stuck her head out, slammed the door, and locked herself in. I tried this, I tried that. You can hear walking, rustling—but no answer. Do you hear that? Do you hear that? Cousin dear!” Nastasya Ivanovna rose for a moment. “Cousin dear!”
“Let her stew! Where are you going?” Olenka demanded, grabbing hold of her mother’s dress.
“Good Lord! Don’t shout; she can hear everything. Let’s go—I’ll tell you what happened.”
“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Olenka persisted as the dazed Nastasya Ivanovna led the way up to her daughter’s attic bedroom. “It’s her choice if she wants to sit there. She’s sure to come out eventually, and you’ll have plenty of time for kisses.”
“What are you talking about? She’s packing her bag—I heard her taking it out.”
“Don’t count on it! She’ll be with us for a thousand years.”
“And how could Katerina Petrovna insult her like that, and in my home? It would be another matter if she’d pretended not to know her in someone else’s house, but now it’s all on my head. How could she? Anna Ilinishna might think that I said something against her, or you…But as God is my witness…”
“No need to take oaths on my account! Oh, how funny you are, Mama. You weren’t about to break down in tears just now, were you? No, your Anna Ilinishna won’t be going anywhere, I’m telling you! She’ll be here for a hundred years. She has nowhere else to go. She’s been cast off on us.”
“Cast off by whom? What nonsense are you spouting?”
“Well, you needn’t listen if you don’t want to. Stop rushing about and sit down. Auntie has been cast off on us. Katerina Petrovna’s servants were just telling ours about it. Don’t look at me like that; I’m telling the truth. Katerina Petrovna saw Auntie’s Princess Maria Sergeyevna in Moscow before she left, then she also visited her here in the country. When the princess returns from abroad, she won’t be taking Auntie back. They had a quarrel when they were in Moscow, but she kept quiet about it since she didn’t know how to get rid of her. Auntie did some sort of mischief, and also there was a squabble about money. Maria Sergeyevna doesn’t want her around anymore. That’s what Katerina Petrovna was told—that she didn’t want such a two-faced woman, an intriguer and thief, around. A thief—yes: she was sneaking money from the princess.”
“And you’re not ashamed to believe all sorts of rubbish, you sinful child?” her mother scolded.
“Have it your way.”
Olenka assumed a hurt expression, but kept glancing at Nastasya Ivanovna who, despite her objections, was quite frightened by the prospect of having Anna Ilinishna as a permanent resident in her home.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we put our heads together and came up with a way to get rid of her?” Olenka suggested, noticing her mother’s fright and smiling. “Leave it to me, I know just how…”
“Oh, what are you talking about?”
“Well, that’s fine, that’s splendid! There’ll be no life for us in our own home! The two of you can have the house to yourselves, a little love nest. I’m leaving. I’ll move to town, to Uncle Pavel Yefimich’s house. I’ll take the wagon right now and leave.”
“Olenka!”
“For pity’s sake! Take a look at yourself, what they’ve done to you. First of all, Erast Sergeyich has managed to drive you to your wits’ end all on his own.”
“None of it’s his fault.”
“Very well, it’s not his fault. Still, because of him, you’re at your wits’ end. But this one! A fine guest! Why has she been in a pique ever since Ovcharov moved in? Why? We put up with all this—lower ourselves, fawn over her—no thank you! That’s what you get for your hospitality. She slammed the door in your face in your own home—and why not? Princesses don’t want anything more to do with her, and someone has to take the blame!”
“What am I to do, Olenka?” Nastasya Ivanovna pleaded.
Her tone was so pitiable that Olenka softened. She felt sorry for her mother. But a minute later she began giggling again, and suddenly the whole affair seemed so ridiculous to her that she was overcome by laughter.
“Well, Mama, don’t you whimper,” she said, kissing Nastasya Ivanovna. “We’ll get her out of here somehow. She’ll leave of her own accord. See how she’s moaning and groaning? What kind of a life is it for her here in Snetki? Are you really suitable company for her?”
“What are you talking about? She’s refusing to come out.”
“She’ll come out. But for heaven’s sake, please don’t beg her. Hold your head high, please.”
“It’s true!” Nastasya Ivanovna replied. “What a calamity. I’ve done her no wrong! I’ve shown her nothing but affection and favors! You can only put up with so much! I have my pride, too, if it’s come to this. Well, she can stay in there as long as she likes. I’ll show her I’m not to be trifled with…Oh, that Anna Ilinishna!”
“Head high, please, head high!” Olenka repeated, laughing wholeheartedly.
Nastasya Ivanovna really was infused with courage. All morning she attended to her duties with the air of someone best not crossed. When supper was served, she did, however, knock on the door.
“Come to eat, please, Anna Ilinishna.”
“I won’t,” came a voice from within.
“If you won’t, that’s as you please. Olenka, sit down. It’s to us to offer, God has provided,” Nastasya Ivanovna pronounced, her face crimson as she ladled herself a full bowl of Lenten cabbage soup.
It was the same when tea was served in the evening, except that Nastasya Ivanovna was even prouder and her anger was closer to the boiling point. She now had Aksinya Mikhailovna knock on the door to announce tea rather than doing it herself.
“I’m a gentlewoman too,” Nastasya Ivanovna muttered, although she did wait for the response.
The response was: “I don’t want any.”
“Very well, then. We’ll see who gives way first.”
And Nastasya Ivanovna opened the samovar spigot with such energy that the teapot overflowed.
Olenka was exceptionally cheerful and loudly related all sorts of trifles with the clear intention that her cheerfulness be heard through the door. So passed teatime; and the evening, since Ovcharov was gone, was spent out of doors for the first time in a long while. Despite the fact that they did not promise any fruit this year, Nastasya Ivanovna was glad to gaze on her pear and apple trees, which she had not seen for some time.
“It’s sad somehow. Dear Erast Sergeyich is not around,” Nastasya Ivanovna remarked, looking over at his locked abode.
“Why do you love Erast Sergeyich so, Mama?” Olenka asked, smiling.
Nastasya Ivanovna thought for a moment.
“I just do, although he doesn’t love me.” She issued a melancholy sigh. “He’s a smart man, Olenka. And it’s also th
at he reminds me of my youth. And of the days when father and mother were alive, and my Nikolai Demyanych. You don’t remember your father, Olenka. Ah, what a man he was! From the day he was born, never was a contrary word heard from him, to say nothing of foul language! I can only hope that you’ll someday be as happy as your mother was. Today Katerina Petrovna brought up the subject of a match for you. To tell the truth, the whole day’s been topsy-turvy. With Anna Ilinishna, the affairs of my own flesh and blood have gone right out of my head.”
“A match for me!” Olenka responded. “Probably the only reason Katerina Petrovna is going to the trouble is that he’s her protégé—what a benefactor! What do I care that her protégé has a position in the treasury office in Moscow! Does that mean I have to marry him? That’s news to me!”
“My Lord, what a little rapscallion you are!” Nastasya Ivanovna exclaimed. “What a lot of chatter! Your mother can’t get a word in edgewise!”
“There’s nothing to say. I need to have another look at him. When she brought him here last year, I barely caught a glimpse, and you yourself said then that I was too young. What’s it to me if Katerina Petrovna set him up in our treasury office and he manages all her affairs so well? What do her affairs have to do with me?”
“Well, there you go chattering again!” Nastasya Ivanovna chided her, but not angrily. “And I can’t make head or tail of a thing you say.”
“You understand everything perfectly well and you won’t force me into anything against my will—I know that,” Olenka replied. “And please—let’s stop talking about all these ninnies.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Nastasya Ivanovna responded meekly, and, more to the point, distractedly. Her thoughts had again strayed. “Anna Ilinishna hasn’t eaten anything today, has she, Olenka?”
“What?”
“I should find out somehow.”
“There you go again!”
“Very well, I won’t. She doesn’t deserve it,” Nastasya Ivanovna asserted with renewed indignation.
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