She offered him her hand; he took it, hardly knowing what he was doing.
“I thank you. Now go. Say that you must hurry to get the horses ready for the drive.”
Again he blinked his eyes. She turned to the notes and began to finish singing the “Troïka.” It was a pity that there were no good judges of singing there; it was charming to hear her; indeed, it was rare that one heard so much expression put into music. Really, there was too much feeling; it was not artistic.
In a moment Marya Alekséyevna came in, and the cook followed her with a waiter containing coffee and lunch. Mikhaïl Ivanuitch, instead of taking the lunch, retreated to the door.
“Where are you going, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch?”
“I am in a hurry, Marya Alekséyevna, to give orders about the horses.”
“Da! you have ample time, Mikaïl Ivanuitch.” But Mikhaïl Ivanuitch was already behind the door.
Marya Alekséyevna dashed from the reception room into the parlor with uplifted fists. “What have you done, you confounded Viérka. Ha?” But the confounded Viérka was no longer in the parlor; her mother hastened after her to her room, but the door of Viérotchka’s room was locked. The mother pressed with all the strength of her body to break open the door, but the door did not yield, and Viérka said: “If you try to break open the door, I shall open the window and call for help. I will not give myself into your hands alive.”
Marya Alekséyevna’s anger lasted long, but she did not break open the door; finally, she got tired of shouting. Then Viérotchka said: “Mámenka, hitherto I simply have not loved you; but since last night, I pity you; you have had much sorrow, and that has made you what you are. Hitherto I have not talked with you, but now I want to talk; but only when you have got over being angry. We will talk kindly, as we never have before.”
Of course, Marya Alekséyevna did not take these words much to heart; but weary nerves demand rest, and Marya Alekséyevna began to reason whether it would not be better to compromise with her daughter before she, the miserable creature, gets entirely out of her hands. “Besides, without her, nothing can be done; we can’t marry her to Mishka, the fool, unless she’s here to marry him, can we? Besides, I don’t know yet what she has told him; they squeezed each other’s hands; what does that signify?”
And thus the weary Marya Alekséyevna was reasoning between ferocity and cunningness, when suddenly the bell rang. It was Julie and Serge.
IV
“Serge, does her mother speak French?” were Julie’s first words when she awoke.
“I don’t know; so you have not put that idea out of your head yet?”
“No, I have not.”
And after taking into consideration all that they had seen in the theatre, they decided that in all probability this young girl’s mother did not speak French. So Julie took Serge along with her as interpreter. At all events, such was his fate, and he would have had to go even if Viérotchka’s mother had been the Cardinal Mezzofanti;4 and he did not complain of his fate, but went everywhere with Julie, as though he were maid of honor to some heroine! Julie got up late, but on the way she stopped at Wickman’s, and then, though it was not on her way, she went to four other stores because she needed certain articles. It was in this way that Mikhaïl Ivanuitch had ample time to explain himself, Marya Alekséyevna had ample time to get enraged and to get calmed down, before Julie and Serge came from the Liteinaïa bridge to the Gorokhovaïa Street.
“But what excuse have we for coming here? Fy, what miserable stairs! I never saw such even in Paris!”
“It’s all the same; make up an excuse. Her mother keeps a sort of a pawn shop. Take off your brooch! Hold on! here’s a better one: she gives piano lessons. Let’s say that you have a niece.”
Matrióna for the first time in her life was ashamed of her smashed cheekbone when she saw Serge’s uniform, and especially Julie’s magnificence; she had never before met face to face with a woman of such importance. Marya Alekséyevna was in such a state of wonder and indescribable surprise when Matrióna announced that Colonel N⸺ N⸺ with his spouse had done themselves the honor of calling! especially those words “with his spouse”!
The gossip that permeated into the circle where Marya Alekséyevna moved, affected exclusively the class of civilians, but the gossip about genuine aristocrats died away in the air before it reached halfway down to Marya Alekséyevna; therefore she accepted in the full legal interpretation of the thought the words husband and wife, as Serge and Julie called each other, in accordance with the Parisian fashion. Marya Alekséyevna quickly composed herself and hastened down to meet them.
Serge said that he was very glad of the chance that he had had the evening before, etc., that his wife had a niece, etc., that his wife did not speak Russian, and therefore he was interpreter.
“Yes, I may be grateful to my Creator,” said Marya Alekséyevna; “Viérotchka has a great talent for teaching the piano, and I should count it a great piece of luck if she were to visit such a house as yours. Only my little teacher is not very well just now.”
Marya Alekséyevna spoke particularly loud, so that Viérotchka might hear and understand the approaching truce. She herself in her admiration, as it were, devoured her visitors with her eyes.
“I don’t know whether she’s got the strength to come out and give you a proof of her skill on the piano.—Viérotchka, my love, can
