“Is this a serious undertaking, Mr. Beaumont? It seems to me merely a recreation; perhaps I may be mistaken; maybe you will call me a materialist.”
“Do you expect such a reproach from a man belonging to a nation whose sole aim and thought, as everyone asserts, is dollars?”
“Those are idle words, but I really fear to express my opinion; it may seem analogous to what the obskurants are agitating about the uselessness of education.”
“Now I see,”109 thought Beaumont; “has she really come to that? This is getting interesting.—I myself am an obskurant,” said he; “I am in favor of the illiterate colored people against their civilized owners in the Southern States. Excuse me; I am drawn away by my American prejudices; but I am very curious to know your opinion.”
“It is very prosaic, Mr. Beaumont, but life brought me to it. It seems to me that the thing that I am doing is too one-sided; and that side to which it is directed is not the most important side, if those who want to do good to the people want really to do the best for them; this is what I think: give men bread, and they themselves will get education. It is necessary to begin with bread; otherwise, we are simply wasting our time.”
“Then why don’t you begin where you ought to begin?” asked Beaumont, in a somewhat excited manner. “It is possible that I know instances at home in America,” he added.
“I told you that I was alone, and what can I do? I don’t know how to begin; and if I did know, what chance have I? A girl is tied in every way. I am not independent even in my own room. What can I do in my room? Lay a book down on the table, and teach children how to read. Where can I go alone by myself? Whom can I see alone? What action can I take by myself?”
“It seems to me that you represent me as a despot, Kátya,” said her father. “I am not to blame in this case, and have not been since you taught me my lesson.”
“Papa, I am still blushing for that; I was only a child then. No, papa, you are kind; you don’t restrain me; it is society that restrains. Is it true, Mr. Beaumont, that a girl in America is freer in her actions?”
“Yes; we have that to be proud of. To be sure, we are far from being what we ought to be; but still, what a comparison between us and you Europeans! All that you have been told about the emancipation of women there, is true.”
“Papa, let us go to America, as soon as Mr. Beaumont has bought your factory,” said Katerina Vasílyevna, gayly. “There I should accomplish something. Akh! how happy I should be!”
“One can find something to do in Petersburg,” said Beaumont.
“I should like to see it.”
Beaumont hesitated two or three seconds. “Why did I come here?” he asked himself; “who would be better to find out for me?—Haven’t you heard? An experiment has been tried of putting into practice the principles of political economy, which have recently been established; do you know them?”
“Yes, I have read about them. It must be very interesting and profitable; and I can take a part in them. Where can I find them?”
“It was established by a Mrs. Kirsánova.”
“Who is she? Is her husband a doctor?”
“Do you know him? And didn’t he tell you about this experiment?”
“I knew him long before he was married. I was very ill; he called on us several times, and saved me. Akh! what a fine man he is! Is she like him?”
But how could she get acquainted with Mrs. Kirsánova? Will Beaumont give Katerina Vasílyevna a letter to Mrs. Kirsánova? No; the Kirsánofs had never even heard his name, but no introduction is necessary. Mrs. Kirsánova will certainly be glad to meet such sympathy. Her address can easily be found where Kirsánof is employed.
XII
It thus came about that Miss Pólozova became acquainted with Viéra Pavlovna. She went to see her the very next morning; and Beaumont was so much interested, that he came back in the evening to find out how Katerina Vasílyevna liked her new acquaintance and the new enterprise.
Katerina Vasílyevna was greatly inspired. Her melancholy had entirely disappeared; her dreaminess had given way to enthusiasm. She eagerly related to Beaumont—and she had already told her father, but once telling of it was not enough—what she had seen that morning, and there seemed to be no end to her story; yes, now her heart was full. She had found a lively enterprise. Beaumont listened to her attentively; but can one be satisfied with listening only? And she said, almost with vexation, “Mr. Beaumont, I am disappointed in you. Does it have so little effect on you, that it only interests you, and nothing more?”
“Katerina Vasílyevna, you forget that I have seen all this at home in America; some of the details may be interesting to me; but the enterprise itself is too familiar to me. Only the people who carry it on with such success are of interest to me, while to you the thing is a novelty. For instance, what can you tell me about Madame Kirsánova?”
“Akh! Bozhe moï! Of course I liked her very much indeed. She was so lovely in describing everything to me.”
“You told me that before.”
“What else do you want? What more can I tell you? What attention could I give to her when I had such a novel thing before my eyes?”
“That is so,” said Beaumont; “I understand we entirely forget about persons when we are interested in things; however, can’t you tell me something else about Madame Kirsánova?”
Katerina Vasílyevna tried to gather all her recollections about Viéra Pavlovna, but she could only bring back
