But it took a long time before they had their effect. Katerina Vasílyevna, at first after Sólovtsof left, was neither melancholy nor sorrowfully inclined, and even before that she had been cool to him; and she accepted so calmly her father’s advice to look out for him, that consequently when, after two months, she began to grow despondent, what could make her father think that Sólovtsof was at the bottom of it, when he had forgotten all about him?
“It seems to me you’re under the weather, Kátya.”
“No; it’s nothing—nothing; it’ll pass.”
In a week or two the old man was already asking, “Are you ill, Kátya?”
“No, not at all.”
Two weeks later the old man said, “You must see the doctor, Kátya.”
Kátya begins to consult the doctor; and the old man is entirely at ease because the doctor finds no cause of alarm. “It is only a weakness, some exhaustion”; and he very sensibly ascribed it to weariness, arising from Katerina’s style of life the past winter. Every night she had been up at parties till two or three, or even five o’clock, in the morning. “This exhaustion will pass.” But it did not pass; it rather increased.
Why did not Katerina Vasílyevna tell her father? She was convinced that this would have been in vain. Her father had told her before very firmly, and he does not speak unmeaning words. He does not like to express opinions about people without being sure of what he says; and he will never consent to her marrying a man whom he considers to be bad.
And so Katerina Vasílyevna kept on dreaming and dreaming while reading Sólovtsof’s humble and hopeless letters; and after half a year’s such reading, she was within half a step of consumption. And not by a single word could her father perceive that her disease originated from a matter in which he was partly to blame; his daughter had been as tender towards him as before.
“Is there anything that isn’t to your mind?”
“Nothing, papa.”
And it is evident that there is nothing; she is only out of spirits, but this is from her weakness, from illness. And the doctor declares that it is the result of her illness. But what is the cause of the illness? As soon as the doctor regarded the illness as trifling, he contented himself with laying the blame on dances and corsets; but when he saw that it was getting dangerous, then appeared his “innutrition of the nerves—atrophia nervorum.”
V
But if the practising Big Wigs agreed that Mademoiselle Pólozova’s atrophia nervorum, which had been developed by a weakening mode of life, with the natural inclination towards dreaminess and melancholy, then not much was left for Kirsánof to study in the sick girl in order to see that her decline in strength originated from some mental causes. Before the consultation, the attending physician explained to him all the relations which she had had; family sorrows there were none; father and daughter are very dear to each other; at the same time the father does not know the reason of the illness, because the attending physician does not know it. But it is evident that the girl must have a strong character, if she has been able to conceal so long the illness itself, and has not given her father a single chance to conjecture the cause. A strong character was also evident by the quiet tone of her answers during the consultation. She shows no sign of irritability; she firmly endures her lot. Kirsánof saw that such a girl deserved attention. Can’t something be done for her? Interference seemed to him essential; of course the thing will be revealed some time, but won’t it be too late? Consumption is very near at hand, and then no care can help it. And so he wrestled with the patient for two hours; and he succeeded in conquering her suspicion; he learned the secret; and he obtained her permission to speak about it with her father.
The old man was startled when he heard from Kirsánof that the cause of his daughter’s illness was love for Sólovtsof. How is this? Kátya accepted so coolly at that time his advice to beware of him; she remained so indifferent after he ceased to call upon them: how then is she dying of love for him? Yes, and is it even possible for people to die of love? Such exaltations could not appear likely to a person who was accustomed to lead an exclusively practical life, and to look upon everything with cool reason. Kirsánof had a tough subject in him; he kept repeating, “It’s a child’s fancy tormenting her, but soon forgotten.” Kirsánof explained and explained; finally he told him plainly, “It is just because she is a child that she does not forget it, and is dying.” Pólozof was persuaded and convinced, but instead of concession, he pounded the table with his fist, and said in a tone of concentrated decision, “If she is to die, let her die; it is better than for her to be unhappy: it would be easier for both her and me!” The very same words he had said to his daughter six months before. Katerina Vasílyevna was not mistaken in thinking that it was idle to talk with him.
“But what makes you so stubborn? I am perfectly convinced that he is a bad man; but is he
