“Izvoshchik!”
“Where do you want to go, lady?” Where did she want to go? she heard her daughter say, “To Karavannaïa Street”; but her daughter turned to the left down the Nevsky. Where does she want to go?
“I want to overtake her yonder, that beast!”
“To ketch someone? Speak sense; where do you want to go? How can I go without any directions? And you hain’t given me any idea.”
Marya Alekséyevna entirely lost control of herself, and she began to berate the izvoshchik.
“You are drunk, baruina; that’s all there is of it,” said the izvoshchik, and left her. Marya Alekséyevna ran after him, still scolding, and she shouted at the other izvoshchiks, and she dashed in all directions for some time, and she gesticulated with her hands, and then she went back under the colonnade, and she kicked and she acted like a mad woman; and around her were gathered half a dozen rude fellows, who had been peddling various articles around the columns of the Gostinui Dvor. The fellows were laughing at her, and they exchanged among themselves words of more or less unfavorable character, and they praised her ironically, and they offered her their advice to be calm.
“Ay! da! baruina! how early you managed to get full! lively baruina!”
“Baruina! ah! baruina! buy half a dozen lemons of me; they are good to take when you’re tipsy; I’ll let thee have them cheap.”
“Baruina! ah! baruina! don’t listen to him; a lemon won’t do you the least good; but go and take a nap.”
“Baruina! ah! baruina! you’re a good hand at scolding; let’s get up a scolding match, and see who’ll beat!”
Marya Alekséyevna, not knowing at all what she was about, boxed the ears of one of the nearest of her interlocutors—a fellow of seventeen, who, not without grace, was stretching out his tongue at her; his hat flew off, and his hair was right at hand. Marya Alekséyevna got her fingers into it. This act roused the rest of her interlocutors into a state of indescribable enthusiasm.
“Ay! baruina! give it to him!” Others shouted:—
“Fyedka! give it back to her in small change!”
But the majority of the interlocutors were on Marya Alekséyevna’s side.
“How can Fyedka stand up to her?”
“Give it to him, baruina! knock Fyedka down! He deserves it, the rascal.”
A good many spectators had now collected besides the interlocutors, both izvoshchiks, and the clerks of the shops, and the passersby. Marya Alekséyevna, as though coming to her senses, and with a final mechanical motion pushing away Fyedka’s head, started across the street. The enthusiastic praises of her interlocutors accompanied her.
She saw that she was on the way home after she had passed the doors of the “School of Pages”; she took an izvoshchik and reached home in safety. Finding Feódor at the door, she gave him a beating; she rushed to the cupboard; she pounded Matrióna, who came out to see what made the noise; again she rushed to the cupboard; she dashed to Viérotchka’s room, then she rushed back again to the cupboard; once more she dashed to Viérotchka’s room, and remained there a long time; then she made a tour of all the rooms, scolding, but finding no one on whom to lay her hands. Feódor had run to the rear stairs; Matrióna, who was looking through the crack of Viérotchka’s room, frightened out of her wits, ran back when she saw that Marya Alekséyevna was getting up. She lost her head, and could not find her way to the kitchen, but found herself instead under Marya Alekséyevna’s bed, where she remained in safety until she was called out under a flag of truce.
Whether it was a long or short period that she was scolding and shouting as she walked through the empty rooms, Marya Alekséyevna could never tell; but it must have been long, because when Pavel Konstantinuitch came from his office, he also had a dose both materially and ideally from Marya Alekséyevna. But as everything must come to an end, Marya Alekséyevna cried out, “Matrióna, let us have dinner!” Matrióna saw that the storm was ended; she crept out from under the bed and got dinner.
At dinner Marya Alekséyevna did not scold at all, but she only growled without any intentions of attacking; but only for her own satisfaction; and afterwards she did not take a nap, but sat down alone and did not speak, but was growling. Then she stopped growling and became absolutely silent; finally she cried out:—
“Matrióna! wake the barin, and tell him to come to me!”
Matrióna, who, while expecting orders, did not dare to go into the dining-room or anywhere else, fulfilled the command. Pavel Konstantinuitch appeared.
“Go to the khozyáïka and tell her that our daughter has married that devil because you wished her to. Tell her, ‘It was against my wife’s will.’ Tell her that you did so, so as to please her ladyship, because you saw that it was not her ladyship’s wish. Tell her, ‘My wife was alone to blame, and I only carried out your ladyship’s will.’ Tell her, ‘I myself brought them together.’ Do you understand or not?”
“I understand you, Marya Alekséyevna. You are very wise in your plan.”
“Well then, go along with you! Even if she is eating her dinner, don’t mind; call her right out! Bring her from the dinner-table! so long as she does not know the real truth.”
The assurance of Pavel Konstantinuitch’s words was so impressive that the khozyáïka would have believed him even if he had not possessed the gift of a persuasive tongue. But the impressiveness of this gift was so great that the khozyáïka would have forgiven Pavel Konstantinuitch, even
