Do not wed her, gallant youth;
Hear my warning words.117
“Still more nonsense, children, and maybe this is also nonsense. You can fall in love, you can wed, but it must be only through choice, and without deceiving yourselves, children. I am going to sing to you how I married. It is an old romance, but I am also old. I am sitting on the balcony of our castle, Dalton, for I am Scotch; I am beautiful and pale. Further down is the forest and the river Bringal. To the balcony slowly, stealthily, comes my lover; he is poor, and I am rich; I am the daughter of a baron and a lord, but I love him dearly, and I am singing to him—
How beauteous Bringal’s rugged shore.
Its forests green and tall!
My love and I, we love it more—
Because I know he hides there in the daytime, and every day he changes his retreat—
Than e’en my father’s hall.
However, the father’s hall is not so lovely in reality. And so I sing to him, ‘I am going with thee.’ What do you suppose he answers me?”
Woulds’t thou be willing, maiden, tell,
To lose their rank and race?
Because I was high born.
But ere thou yieldest, weigh it well,
What fate thou hast to face!
“ ‘Art thou a huntsman?’ I ask. ‘No.’ ‘A poacher?’ ‘You have almost guessed,’ said he;
When we, the sons of night, have met,
—because you know that all of us, children, mesdames and messieurs, are very wicked people—
We take a solemn vow.
What once we were we must forget,
Forget what we are now.
“He sings, ‘I guessed it long ago.’ I say, ‘Thou art a brigand.’ Well, it is true; he is a brigand. Yes, he is a brigand. Well, gentlemen, he says, ‘Don’t you see I am a poor match for you?
O maiden, I was born for strife,
In forests dark I wend.’
“Absolutely true; dark forests; so he says, ‘Don’t go with me.’
How terrible will be my life!
Because in the dark forests are wild beasts.
How pitiful my end!
“That is not true, children; it will not be pitiful. But then, he and I have thought, and he has thought, and still I answer as before:—
How beauteous Bringal’s rugged shore.
Its forests green and tall!
My love and I, we love it more
Than e’en my father’s hall.
“In reality, it was so. Consequently, I must not be sorry. I was told what to expect. Thus you can marry and love, children, without deceit, and know how to make your choice.
The moon climbs the sky
Serenely and brightly.
The soldier lad knightly
To the battle must hie.
His gun is loaded all with care;
And to him says the maiden fair,
My dearest, with courage
Go forth e’en to die.118
“With such girls as that you can fall in love, and such you can marry.”
(“Forget what I told you, Sasha; listen to her,” whispers Viéra Pavlovna, and presses her husband’s hand, “Why didn’t I tell thee this? now I shall tell thee,” whispers Katerina Vasílyevna.)
“I allow you to love such, and I bless you, my children.
My dearest, with courage
Go forth e’en to die!
“I have had a perfectly lovely time with you; and where there is enjoyment, you must have something to drink.
Hey! my little alehouse maiden.
Pour me out the mead and wine!
“Mead is simply because you can’t lose a word out of the song. Is there any champagne left? is there? Capital! open the bottle.
Hey! my little alehouse maiden.
Pour me out the mead and wine!
So that gay and joyous feelings
May fill full this heart of mine.
“Who is the ‘alehouse maiden’? I am the ‘alehouse maiden.’
Black as night the maiden’s brows are,
Bright as steel her heel!”119
She jumped up, rubbed her forehead with her hand and pounded with her heels.
“I have found it out already! Mesdames and messieurs, and you dear little old man, and you, children, help yourselves; your little heads should be gay and happy.”
“To the shinkárka’s health! to the shinkárka’s health!”
“Thank you; I drink to my health, and again she flew to the piano and sang:—
May sorrow vanish in dust!
And it will vanish.
And to our hearts reborn,
Come endless joy like morn!
And it will be so! This is sure.
Gloomy fear shall pass away
Like the shades when sun brings day;
Light and warmth and fragrance rare
Drive out darkness and despair.
Faint corruption’s odor grows;
Strong the fragrance of the rose.”
Part VI
Change of Scenes
“Let us start,” said the lady in mourning; but now she was no longer in mourning; a bright pink dress, a pink hat, a white mantilla, and a handsome bouquet. She was not alone, but with Mosolof. Mosolof and Nikítin were sitting on the front seat of the carriage; on the coachman’s box was a third youth, and next the lady was a man of thirty years. How old was the lady? Was she only twenty, as she said, and not twenty-five? but this is a matter of conscience if she exaggerates.
“Yes, my dear, I have waited for this day more than two years. When I first got acquainted with him (she indicated Nikítin with her eyes), I only anticipated; but I cannot say that I expected it. It was only a hope; but soon came assurance.”
“Excuse me, excuse me,” says the reader, and not alone the sapient reader, but every reader, growing more and more astonished as he thinks it over. “For more than two years since she got acquainted with Nikítin!”
“Yes,” I say.
“She got acquainted with Nikítin at the same time that she got acquainted with the Kirsánofs and Beaumonts on that sleighing picnic which took place at the end of this winter?”
“Absolutely true,” I say.
“What does it all mean? Do you tell about things taking place
