“No.”
“That is too bad. Have you a lover?”
Viérotchka did not know how to answer this; she only opened her eyes in wonder.
“Forgive me, forgive me; I might have known that, but so much the worse. Of course, then you have no one to protect you. What can be done? Now listen; I am not what I seemed to you at first. I am not his wife; we only live together. I am known in all Petersburg as a very bad woman, but I am an honest woman. To visit me would cost you your reputation; it is sufficiently risky for you that I have called at your rooms only once, and to call upon you a second time would be sure ruin. Meantime it is necessary for me to see you again, and probably more than once; that is, if you have any confidence in me. Yes? Then what time can I see you tomorrow?”
“About twelve o’clock,” said Viérotchka. This was rather too early for Julie, but all right; she would give orders to be called at that time, and she would meet Viérotchka at the Gostinui Dvor,5 opposite the Nevsky Prospekt. This place is not so much frequented as the others; it will be easier to find each other, and no one knows Julie there.
“Yes, and here is another lucky thought; give me a piece of paper; I’ll write a note to that contemptible fellow, and so get him into my power.” Julie wrote, “Monsieur Storeshnikof, you are now in all probability in great embarrassment; if you wish to get out of it, come to my house at seven o’clock. M. le Tellier.”
“Now, goodbye.”
Julie offered her hand, but Viérotchka threw herself on her neck, kissed her, wept, and kissed her again, and Julie was still less able to bear it; she shed tears still more abundantly than Viérotchka; the feeling that she was doing a noble deed gave her such happiness and pride that it was very touching; she went into ecstasies, she kept on speaking, always with tears and kisses, and finally she ended with an exclamation:—
“My friend! my dear child! may God spare you from knowing what I am feeling now, when, for the first time in many years, pure lips touch mine. Die, but don’t give a kiss without love!”
V
Storeshnikof’s plan was not so murderous as Marya Alekséyevna supposed; she in her own style put it in a too brutal form, but the spirit of the thing she interpreted aright. Storeshnikof’s idea was to bring the two ladies a little later in the evening to the restaurant where the supper was going to be; of course, they would be hungry and cold, and it would be necessary for them to get warm, and have a cup of tea. He would have a little opium put into Marya Alekséyevna’s teacup or wineglass; Viérotchka would be frightened to see her mother lose consciousness; he would take Viérotchka into the room where the supper was going on, and then his bet would be won; what the final result would be, he would leave to chance. Maybe Viérotchka in her perplexity would not understand the matter, and would agree to remain in the strange company, but even if she remained but a little while, it would not make any difference; it would be excused because she had only just entered upon that adventurous course of life, and naturally felt a bit of awkwardness at first. Then afterwards he would buy Marya Alekséyevna off with a little money, after which he would have nothing more to do with her.
But now what was he to do? He cursed his boastfulness before his friends, his faint-heartedness when met by Viérotchka’s unexpected and abrupt resistance; he wished that the earth would open and swallow him. Now what was he to do? While his mind was in such disorder and despair, a letter from Julie brought healing balm to his wound; a ray of hope shone into the impenetrable darkness; a solid road opened through the quagmire under the feet of the sinking man. “Oh! she can; she is the cleverest woman; she can bring anything about! She is the noblest of women!”
At ten minutes before seven he was standing before her door. “She is waiting for you, and gave orders to have you admitted.”
How majestically she is sitting! how stern she looks! She scarcely bends her head in reply to his bow: “I am very glad to see you; take a seat.”
Not a muscle moved in her face. “It will be a good scolding [literally, head-washing], I suppose; no matter, scold away, only save me.”
“Monsieur Storeshnik,” she began in a cold, slow way, “you know my opinion of the matter in regard to which we have come together now, and which, of course, I see no need of characterizing again. I have seen that young lady whom you were talking about last night; I have heard about your visit to them today; consequently, I know all about everything, and I am very glad, because it saves me from asking you any questions. Your position is perfectly clear, not only to you, but to me.”
“Lord! I’d rather she would scold,” thought the victim.
“It seems to me,” she went on, “that you cannot get out of it without somebody’s help, and that you cannot expect anybody to help you successfully but me. If you have anything to say in your defence, I will listen.” “And so,” after a pause, “you, as well as
