“No, mámenka! I told you long ago, that I would not kiss your hand. And now let me go. I tell you the truth; I feel very bad.”
Akh! how angry grew Marya Alekséyevna’s eyes once again! But she controlled herself, and said gently, “Go on, go to bed.”
It took Viérotchka a long time to undress, because she was lost in thought. First she took off her bracelet, and sat long with it in her hand; then she removed her earrings, and forgot herself again. At last she remembered that she was very tired. She could not even stand before the looking-glass, but threw herself into the chair in utter weariness. She sat there some time before it came over her that she must undress as quickly as possible; but she had hardly taken off her dress and laid down, before Marya Alekséyevna came into the room with a waiter, whereon stood her father’s great cup and a pile of toasted bread.
“Take some, Viérotchka; here, take some, for health’s sake! I myself have brought it to you. You see your mother looks out for you. I was sitting and thinking, ‘How is it that Viérotchka went to bed without tea?’ While I was drinking I was full of thought. And here I have brought it. Take it, my dear daughter [moya dotchka mílaïa].”
Her mother’s voice sounded strange to Viérotchka; but in reality, it was soft and kind; it had never been so before. She looked at her mother with amazement. Marya Alekséyevna’s cheeks were fiery red, and her eyes were unsteady.
“Take it. I’ll sit down and look at you. When you have finished this cup, I will bring you another.”
The tea, which was half-filled with delicious, thick cream, awakened Viérotchka’s appetite. She lifted herself on her elbow, and began to drink.
“How delicious tea is when it is fresh and strong, and when it has lots of sugar and cream! Perfectly delicious! It is not like tea that has been drawn once, and is made with one little mean bit of sugar, and tastes like medicine. When I have money of my own, I shall always drink such tea as this is. Thank you, mámenka.”
“Don’t go to sleep yet; I will bring you another one.” She came back with a second cup of the same excellent tea. “Drink it, and I will stay with you.” She said nothing for a moment, and then suddenly she began to speak in a strange way, sometimes so fast that her words could not be understood, and the next minute drawling.
“Now, Viérotchka, you have thanked me. It’s a long time since I have had any thanks from you. You think that I am cross. Yes, I am cross. But it is impossible not to be cross. But I am weak, Viérotchka! After three punches, of course I feel weak! And think how old I am. Da! and you have shaken my nerves, Viérotchka; you pained me greatly; and so I felt weak. And my life is a hard one, Viérotchka! I don’t want you to live such a life. Be a rich woman! Think of the suffering that I have gone through, Viérotchka, a‑a‑a‑and just think of it! You cannot remember how me and your father used to live before he was manager. Poor, a‑a‑a‑and oh, how poor! and then I was honest, Viérotchka! Now I am not honest. No, I shall not take a sin on my soul, I will not tell you a lie, I will not say that I am honest now. But what’s the use? That time is all past. Viérotchka, you are educated and I am not educated, but I know everything that is wrote in your books; there it is wrote that one ought not to treat anybody as I was treated. ‘You,’ they say, ‘are dishonest.’ Now here’s your father, for example; he’s your father, but he was not Nádinka’s father. He’s a poor soul, yet he dared then to pick my eyes to reproach me. Nu, then the ill temper got the best of me, and I say that, judged by your standard, I ain’t a good woman; but then I be as I be. Nádinka was born. Nu, what of that? Supposing she was born? Who taught me to do such things? How did your father get his place? My sin was much less than his. And they took her away from me, and they put her into the Foundling House; and it was impossible to find out what became of her, and so I never saw her, and I don’t know whether she is among the livin’ or not. Faith, how could she be alive! Nu, at the present time I should not have cared so much, but then it wa’n’t so easy, and my temper got the best of me. Nu, and so I became cross. And since then everything has gone all right. Who got the situation for your father, fool that he is? I got it for him. And who got him promoted to be a manager? I did; and so we began to live comfortably. And why? Because I lost my temper and my good name! This I know. It’s written in your books, Viérotchka, that it’s only the wicked and ill-tempered who get along in this world; and that is gospel truth, Viérotchka! Now your father has lots of money, Viérotchka; and it was through me that he got it. And I too have money, and probably more than he has—all through my exertions. I shall have bread enough for my last years. And your father, fool that he is, has begun to respect me, and he has to toe the line. I scold him well. But before, he used to treat me mean. And why was it? I
