“Alekséi Petróvitch,” said Viéra Petróvitch once, while she was at the Mertsálofs, “I have a favor that I want to ask of you. Natasha is already on my side. My sewing union is becoming a lyceum for all possible knowledge. Be one of its professors.”
“Well, what shall I teach? Latin or Greek or logic or rhetoric?” said Alekséi Petróvitch, laughing. “My specialty would not be very interesting, according to your opinion, and the opinion of another man whom you know.”
“Yes, you are needed, just because you are a specialist. You must serve as the buckler of morality and the special direction of our science.”
“That’s true. I see that without me there would be no morality. Give me a professorship.”
“For instance, Russian history or international history.”
“Capital! But I will read this subject up, and I shall be taken as a specialist. Excellent! Two occupations—to be a professor and a buckler.”
Natalia Andréyevna, Lopukhóf, two or three students, and Viéra Pavlovna herself were the other professors, as they called themselves in jest.
Together with the course of instructions, they also arranged for amusements. They had evening parties; they had picnics out of town—at first rarely, but afterwards, when they had more money, more frequently; they took boxes at the theatre. During the third winter they took ten places in the parquet circle during the Italian opera.
How delightful, how exciting this was to Viéra Pavlovna! there was much labor and care, and she also had disappointments. The misfortune that befell one of the best girls in the union powerfully affected not her alone, but the whole shop. Sáshenka Pribuitkova, one of the three girls whom Viéra Pavlovna herself found, was very handsome, and was very modest. She was engaged to a good and kind young man, who was a tchinovnik. Once, as she was walking on the street rather late, some gentleman accosted her. She hastened her steps. He followed her, and caught her by the arm. She snatched herself away from him and started to run; but by the motion of pulling away her arm, she hit his chest, and on the pavement was heard the ring of the polite gentleman’s watch. The polite gentleman caught Sáshenka with perfect self-possession, and with a feeling of legal right, and cried out, “Robbery! police!” Two policemen came and took Sáshenka to the station-house. Meantime, nothing was known in the shop as to what had become of her, and they could not imagine where she could be lost. On the fourth day a kind soldier, attached to the station-house, brought Viéra Pavlovna a note from Sáshenka. Lopukhóf immediately went off to see about it. He was treated insultingly; he gave them back in their own coin, and went off to Serge. Serge and Julie had gone out of town to a great picnic, and did not come back for two days. Two hours after his return, one of the officials begged Sáshenka’s pardon, and went to beg her bridegroom’s pardon into the bargain. But he could not find the young man. The bridegroom had been to see Sáshenka the evening before at the station, and having learned from the policemen who were placed in charge of her the name of the dandy (frant), went to him, and challenged him to a duel. Before he was challenged, the dandy apologized for his mistake in a very insulting tone; but after he had received the challenge, he burst into a peal of laughter. The tchinovnik said, “Here, then, you will not refuse this challenge,” and slapped him in the face; the dandy seized a stick; the tchinovnik hit him in the chest; the dandy fell to the ground, and his servants hurried to the noise. The barin was picked up dead; he had been knocked violently to the floor, and struck his cheek on the sharp corner of a table. The tchinovnik was put in prison, a criminal suit was instituted, and no end could be foreseen to this case. What was the result? There was no result; only, from that time, it was sad to look at Sáshenka. The shop had several other experiences; not criminal like this, but likewise not very gay. Very ordinary occurrences, such as cause girls long tears, and young or middle-aged men not long but pleasant recreation. Viéra Pavlovna knew that, according to the existing ideas and conditions, such occurrences were unavoidable; that young girls could not be kept in perfect safety, either by their own care or by that exercised by others. It is just the same way as it used to be in old times, in regard to smallpox, before people learned to get rid of it. Now, whoever suffers from smallpox, is himself to blame, and much more, those near to him; but once it was otherwise: no one was to blame except the miserable weather or the wretched town or village; for the person suffering from smallpox probably carried the contagion by not putting himself into quarantine, until he got well. The same thing is true now of these stories. Some time in the future people may get rid of this kind of smallpox also. Means have been found for it; but people are not yet ready to adopt it, just as it took a long time, a very long time, for people to be willing to adopt preventatives against the smallpox. Viéra Pavlovna knew that this miserable weather was to be found mainly in cities and towns, and it gets victims even from the most careful hands: but this is a very poor consolation, when you know only that “I am not to blame, my dear, for your
