immensely relieved.
'I too am so-rry, Wo-lo-da,' I said, taking his hand. Yet he only looked
at me with an expression as though he could not understand why there
should be tears in my eyes.
VI. MASHA
None of the changes produced in my conception of things were so striking
as the one which led me to cease to see in one of our chambermaids a
mere servant of the female sex, but, on the contrary, a WOMAN upon whom
depended, to a certain extent, my peace of mind and happiness. From the
time of my earliest recollection I can remember Masha an inmate of our
house, yet never until the occurrence of which I am going to speak--an
occurrence which entirely altered my impression of her--had I bestowed
the smallest attention upon her. She was twenty-five years old, while I
was but fourteen. Also, she was very beautiful. But I hesitate to give a
further description of her lest my imagination should once more picture
the bewitching, though deceptive, conception of her which filled my mind
during the period of my passion. To be frank, I will only say that she
was extraordinarily handsome, magnificently developed, and a woman--as
also that I was but fourteen.
At one of those moments when, lesson-book in hand, I would pace the
room, and try to keep strictly to one particular crack in the floor as I
hummed a fragment of some tune or repeated some vague formula--in
short, at one of those moments when the mind leaves off thinking and the
imagination gains the upper hand and yearns for new impressions--I left
the schoolroom, and turned, with no definite purpose in view, towards
the head of the staircase.
Somebody in slippers was ascending the second flight of stairs. Of
course I felt curious to see who it was, but the footsteps ceased
abruptly, and then I heard Masha's voice say:
'Go away! What nonsense! What would Maria Ivanovna think if she were to
come now?'
'Oh, but she will not come,' answered Woloda's voice in a whisper.
'Well, go away, you silly boy,' and Masha came running up, and fled past
me.
I cannot describe the way in which this discovery confounded me.
Nevertheless the feeling of amazement soon gave place to a kind of
sympathy with Woloda's conduct. I found myself wondering less at the
conduct itself than at his ability to behave so agreeably. Also, I found
myself involuntarily desiring to imitate him.
Sometimes I would pace the landing for an hour at a time, with no other
thought in my head than to watch for movements from above. Yet, although
I longed beyond all things to do as Woloda had done, I could not bring
myself to the point. At other times, filled with a sense of envious
jealousy, I would conceal myself behind a door and listen to the sounds
which came from the maidservants' room, until the thought would occur to
my mind, 'How if I were to go in now and, like Woloda, kiss Masha? What
should I say when she asked me--ME with the huge nose and the tuft on
the top of my head--what I wanted?' Sometimes, too, I could hear her
saying to Woloda,
'That serves you right! Go away! Nicolas Petrovitch never comes in here
with such nonsense.' Alas! she did not know that Nicolas Petrovitch was
sitting on the staircase just below and feeling that he would give all
he possessed to be in 'that bold fellow Woloda's' place! I was shy by
nature, and rendered worse in that respect by a consciousness of my own
ugliness. I am certain that nothing so much influences the development
of a man as his exterior--though the exterior itself less than his
belief in its plainness or beauty.
Yet I was too conceited altogether to resign myself to
