They sat down to table.
“Now, here we must drink a health to Pavel Konstantinuitch. Let us drink it with this. Ale—it’s just the same thing as beer, not any stronger than beer. Try it, Marya Alekséyevna.”
“If, as you say, it’s beer, why, there’s no reason not to drink beer.”
(“Gospodi (Heavens)! what a lot of bottles! Akh! how silly I am. That’s the way she got to be so friendly!”)
(“What a cunning rascal he is! He himself don’t drink. He only touches his ale with his lips! But what excellent ale! It tastes better nor kvass, and it’s strong; its got a very good strength. When I get her married off to Mishka, I’ll give up vodka and drink nothing but ale. Nu! this fellow’ll never loose his head in drink! If he’d only give in to it, the villain! But then, it’s for my advantage! I reckon if he wanted to drink tea, he’d drink enough!) You’d ought to drink some yourself, Dmitri Sergéitch.”
“Eh! in my day we used to drink a good deal, Marya Alekséyevna. I drank enough to last a long time. When I had no luck, and no money, I used to get drunk; but now I have enough to do, and enough money, I don’t need wine; I feel gay enough without it.”
And so the entire dinner passed off. They bring on the confectioner’s pirog.
“My dear Matrióna Stepanóvna, what goes well with this?”
“I’ll bring it right in, Dmitri Sergéitch;” and Matrióna hurries back with a bottle of champagne.
“Viéra Pavlovna, you and I have not taken anything yet; now let us drink ‘to the health of my bride and your bridegroom!’ ”
“What does he mean? Does he really mean that?” thinks Viérotchka.
“May God grant your bride and Viérotchka’s bridegroom all happiness,” says Marya Alekséyevna; “and to us old folks may He grant to see Viérotchka’s wedding right soon!”
“Never you fear; you won’t have long to wait, Marya Alekséyevna.—Isn’t that so, Viéra Pavlovna? Da!”
“Does he really mean what he says?” thinks Viérotchka.
“Certainly [da]! Viéra Pavlovna; of course she means to marry him! Just say ‘yes.’ ”
“Yes,” says Viérotchka.
“That’s right, Viéra Pavlovna; why should you keep your mámenka waiting and doubting? ‘Yes,’ and that settles it. And now we must drink another toast to Viéra Pavlovna’s approaching wedding. Drink it, Viéra Pavlovna; don’t be afraid! it will be all right. Let us clink glasses ‘to your approaching nuptials!’ ”
They clink glasses.
“God grant it! God grant it! [daï Bog! daï Bog!] Thank you, Viérotchka; you make happy, Viérotchka, in my old age,” says Marya Alekséyevna, wiping away her tears. The English ale and the maraschino had brought her into a sentimental state of mind.
“Daï Bog! daï Bog!” echoed Pavel Konstantinuitch.
“How pleased we are with you, Dmitri Sergéitch,” says Marya Alekséyevna after dinner was over; “yes, indeed we are pleased. You have been our guest and yet you have treated us! Well, we can well say that you have given us a holiday’s entertainment!” Her eyes had a far pleasanter expression than the impudent one that they generally wore.
Not everything results as cleverly as it is cleverly planned. Lopukhóf had not dared to hope for such a result when he bought the wine; he only intended to give Marya Alekséyevna a bribe, so that he might not lose her good will by having invited himself to stay to dinner. Would she have drunk so much before a stranger, even though they had common sympathies, unless she trusted him? But is there anyone whom she would trust! And in fact she herself had not intended to yield so soon to the temptation. She meant to postpone her main share in the enjoyment of the good things till after tea. But every human being has his weakness; she could have withstood the vodka and other familiar drinks, but ale and other attractions of the sort led her astray through inexperience.
The dinner passed off in very formal and baronial style, and therefore Marya Alekséyevna ordered Matrióna to set on the samovar, as is customary after baronial dinners. But only she herself and Lopukhóf availed themselves of this luxury. Viérotchka declared that she didn’t want any tea, and she went right to her room. Pavel Konstantinuitch, like an ignorant boor, went off to take his nap, as he always did after dinner. Dmitri Sergéitch drank deliberately, and when he had finished one cup, he asked for another. Here Marya Alekséyevna began to feel a bit queer; she excused herself by saying that she had not been well since early morning; the guest begged her not to stand on ceremony and she left him to himself. He drank a second cup and a third, and took a nap in his chair; must have dozed some time, “like our golden one [zoloto],” as Matrióna expressed; and the golden one was already snoring. It must have been her snoring that wakened Dmitri Sergéitch, after Matrióna went into the kitchen for good and all, taking with her the samovar and the cups.
XVIII
“Forgive me, Viéra Pavlovna,” said Lopukhóf, coming into her room. How gently he speaks, and his voice trembles; but at dinner he spoke loud, and he did not call her my dear, but Viéra Pavlovna. “Forgive me for having been impertinent. You know what I said: yes, a husband and wife cannot be separated. Then you are free.”
He took her hand and kissed it.
“My dearest, you saw that I wept when you came in; it was out of joy.”
Lopukhóf kissed her hand; many times he kissed her hand.
“Here, my dearest, you are freeing me from the cellar; how clever and kind you are. How did you happen to think about it?”
“It was when we first danced together, that I thought about it.”
“My dearest, I thought then that you were kind. You are giving
