“What a quick temper you have, Kátya. You are worse than I,” says Viéra Pavlovna. “It is good that your father has something; it is very good.”
“Yes, Viérotchka; it is good. I have less anxiety for my son.” (You see, she has a son.)
“However, Kátya, I don’t know what you make me think of. We will always live quietly and peacefully, won’t we?”
Katerina Vasílyevna makes no reply.
“Yes, Kátya; say yes for my sake.”
Katerina Vasílyevna laughs.
“It does not depend on my yes or no; and so for your satisfaction, I will say yes, we will always live peacefully.”
And indeed they all live peacefully. They live harmoniously and cordially and quietly and happily and gayly and actively. But it does not follow from this that my story is at end. All four of them are as yet young, active; and if their lives are arranged harmoniously and cordially, beautifully and solidly, still it has not ceased to be interesting: far from it; and I have a good many things yet to tell about them; and I vouch for it that the continuation of my story about them will be much more interesting than what I have related till now.
XXIII
They live gayly and cordially; they work and they rest; they enjoy life; and look forward to the future if not without thought, yet with a firm and substantial assurance that the further they go, the better it will be. Thus passed with them the time of the third year and last year; and thus the present year is passing, and the winter of the present year is almost passed; the snow has begun to melt, and Viéra Pavlovna inquired, “There will be one more frosty day yet, won’t there, so that we can have another winter picnic?”
And nobody could answer her; but one day passes after another, growing warmer and warmer, and every day the probability of a winter picnic grew less. But lo! at last, when hope was lost, a snowstorm came such as we have in midwinter, without warmth, but with a fine gentle frost: the sky became bright. “It will be a splendid evening—picnic! the picnic—hurry up; don’t stop for the rest—a little one without formality.”
Two sleighs dashed away that evening. One was filled with talk and jokes, but the other was really beyond control. As soon as they left town, they sang with all their voices, and this was what they sang:—
“From the gate the maiden went,
From the gate of maple bent,
Hurried from the new-made gate,
With its new-made checkered grate.
‘Angry is my bátiushka.
Has no mercy on his daughter;
Will not let me wander late,
With the young lad gayly wait;
Yet I do not heed my sire,
But will sport to heart’s content.’ ”113
The idea of singing such a song! Is that all? Some of the time they go slow and drop a quarter of a verst behind, and then suddenly they catch up with the others, and race; they dash by with shouts and screams of laughter, and after they have passed them, they fling snowballs at the gay but not riotous sleigh. The more decorous sleighful, after two or three such insults, determined to defend themselves. They let the riotous sleigh get ahead of them, they collected handfuls of new-fallen snow as secretly as possible, so that the riotous sleigh might not discover them. When the riotous sleigh slowed up again and fell behind, the decorous sleigh was creeping along stealthily, and gave no sign that they had procured weapons; and when the riotous sleigh bore down upon them again with shouts and shrieks, the decorous sleigh offered most unexpectedly a brave defence. But what does this mean? The riotous sleigh turns out to the right, even across gutters; they don’t care for anything; they dash by a distance of a few rods.114 “Yes, she must have suspected something; she has taken the reins herself; she is standing up and driving,” says the decorous sleigh. “No, no, we’ll catch up with them and pay them back.” It is a desperate race. Will they overtake them or not? “We shall,” says the decorous sleigh with enthusiasm. “No,” it cries in despair; then, with new enthusiasm says, “Yes, we shall.”
“They are gaining on us,” says the riotous sleigh in despair. “They won’t catch up with us,” it says in enthusiasm. “Will they catch us or not?”
In the decorous sleigh were seated the Kirsánofs and Beaumonts; in the riotous sleigh were four young men and one lady, and it was she who was the ringleader in the riotous sleigh.
“Your health, mesdames and messieurs. We are very glad to see you again,” she says from the platform of the factory stairs.—“Gentlemen, help the ladies out of the sleighs,” she adds, addressing her companions.
Hurry up! hurry up into the parlors! The cold has reddened all their cheeks.
“How do you do, you dear old man?”115
“He isn’t an old man at all, Katerina Vasílyevna. What made you tell me that he was old? He will be flirting with me next thing. Will you do it, you dear little old man?” asks the lady of the riotous sleigh.
“I will,” says Pólozof, delighted because she gently caressed his gray whiskers.
“Children, will you let him flirt with me?”
“Of course we will,” says one of the young men.
“No, no!” say the three others.
But why is the lady of the riotous sleigh dressed all in black? Is it mourning or caprice?
“O dear me, I am tired!” she said, throwing herself on the Turkish divan which occupied the whole length of the side of the parlor. “Children, more cushions! Not for me alone, but I think the other ladies are tired.”
“Yes; you have tired us all out!” says Katerina Vasílyevna.
“The race with you over the rough road broke me all up!” says Viéra Pavlovna.
“It was a good thing that there was only one more visit to
