“Just look here, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch. This French I almost understand by myself. This word gostinaïa [meaning drawing-room], of course, it must be a book about manners, ain’t it? but the German one I don’t understand.”
“No, Marya Alekséyevna, that word is not gostinaïa, but destinée, fate.”
“What kind of a fate? Is it a novel that’s called so, or is it a sort of oracle or fortune book.”
“We will quickly find out, Marya Alekséyevna, from the book itself.”
Mikhaïl Ivanuitch turned several of the leaves.
“It seems to speak mostly about series and things; I guess it is a scientific book.”
“About serious things? That is good!”
“No, series.”
“What! series? Oh yes, banknotes. Then it’s something about managing money!”
“Yes, that’s it, Marya Alekséyevna.”
“Nu! what’s the German one?”
Mikhaïl Ivanuitch read slowly:—
“ ‘Concerning Religion; works of Ludwig.’ Oh, yes, Ludwig the Fourteenth, Marya Alekséyevna; this is the work of Louis XIV. He was a French king, Marya Alekséyevna, the father of the king in whose place Napoleon is reigning now.”
“Then it must be a theological work?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“That is good, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch; yes, indeed, I knew it! Dmitri Sergéitch is a reliable young man; still one must keep his eyes sharp on any young man.”
“Of course he has no bad intentions in his mind, but, for all that, I am extremely grateful to you, Marya Alekséyevna, for keeping your eyes open.”
“One’s got to do so; I am on the watch, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch; it’s a mother’s duty to keep her daughter straight, and I pledge you my honor as far as Viérotchka is concerned. But there’s one thing occurs to me, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch. What belief did that French king hold?”
“Catholic, naturally!”
“Then, don’t he try to convert folks into the papistry?”
“I don’t think so, Marya Alekséyevna; if he had been a Catholic bishop, then, of course, he would have tried to make converts; but a king would not spend his time that way. As a wise ruler and politician he’d simply teach virtue.”
“What else?”
Marya Alekséyevna could not help seeing that Mikhaïl Ivanuitch, with all his narrow mind, argued the case very skilfully; but for all that she cleared up the matter with perfect satisfaction. Two or three days later she suddenly said to Lopukhóf, while playing with him rather than with Mikhaïl Ivanuitch:—
“Tell me, Dmitri Sergéitch; I want to ask you something. The father of the last French king, the very man in whose shoes the present Napoleon is reigning, did he make folks git converted into the religion of the Pope?”
“No, he did not, Marya Alekséyevna.”
“Is the Pope’s religion good, Dmitri Sergéitch?”
“No, it is not, Marya Alekséyevna. I play seven of diamonds.”
“I just asked out of curiosity, Dmitri Sergéitch, being as I’m an ignorant woman, and it is interesting to know. You are taking a good many tricks, Dmitri Sergéitch.”
“It can’t be helped, Marya Alekséyevna. We are taught at the medical school to play cards well. A doctor must know how to take tricks.”
Lopukhóf is puzzled to this day to know why Marya Alekséyevna wanted to know whether Philippe Egalité ordered folks to be baptized in the religion of the Pope.
Well, how, after all this, could it be wondered at that Marya Alekséyevna stopped wearying herself by perpetual supervision? He keeps his eyes where they should be, his face has shown no amorous susceptibilities; he gives her theological books to read; that ought to be enough. But no, Marya Alekséyevna was not satisfied; but she even managed to put him to a test, as though she had studied the logic which I have learned by heart, and which says, “the observations of phenomena must be made by means of experiments, carried on in a skilful plan, if one would have the most thorough penetration into the secrets of such relations”; and she so managed to bring about this trial, as though she had read Sakson’s grammar, which tells how Hamlet was tempted by Ophelia in the grove.
VIII
The Temptation of Hamlet
One day at tea, Marya Alekséyevna said that she had a headache; after serving the tea, and locking up the sugarbowl she went away and retired. Viéra and Lopukhóf remained sitting in the tearoom, which adjoined the bedroom where Marya Alekséyevna had gone.
After a few minutes she sent a message by Feódor: “Tell your sister that their talk keeps me from going to sleep; let ’em go somewhere else so as not to bother me. Say it politely, so as not to offend Dmitri Sergéitch; you see what good care he takes of you.” Feódor went and told what his mother wanted.
“Let us go to my room, Dmitri Sergéitch; it is away from mother’s bedroom, and we shall not be disturbed.”
Of course this was what Marya Alekséyevna expected. At the end of a quarter of an hour she crept in her stocking feet up to the door of Viérotchka’s room. The door was ajar; between the door and the jamb was a splendid crack: Marya Alekséyevna applied her eyes to it and strained her ears.
This was the sight that she saw:—
In Viérotchka’s rooms were two windows; between them stood a writing-table. Viérotchka was sitting near one window, knitting a woollen chest-protector for her father, religiously fulfilling Marya Alekséyevna’s command. At the other window, at the other end of the table, Lopukhóf was sitting: he was leaning with one elbow on the table; he had a cigar in his hand; his other hand was thrust in his pocket; the distance between Viérotchka and him was not less than two arshíns (4.6 feet). Viérotchka was looking most of the time at her knitting; Lopukhóf was looking most of the
