Demons

object was perfectly clear, though apart from the above-mentioned facts it contained no conclusions. Varvara Petrovna did not think long, made her mind up instantly, got ready, took her ward Dasha (Shatov's sister) with her, and in the middle of April went off to Paris and then to Switzerland. She returned alone in July, having left Dasha with the Drozdovs; the Drozdovs themselves, according to the news she brought, promised to come to us at the end of August.

The Drozdovs were also landowners of our province, but the duties of General Ivan Ivanovich (a former friend of Varvara Petrovna's and a colleague of her husband's) constantly prevented them from ever visiting their magnificent estate. After the general's death, which occurred last year, the inconsolable Praskovya Ivanovna went abroad with her daughter, with the intention among other things of trying the grape cure, which she planned to undergo at Vernex-Montreux in the latter half of the summer. On her return to the fatherland she intended to settle in our province for good. She had a big house in town, which for many years had stood empty with its windows boarded up. They were rich people. Praskovya Ivanovna, Mrs. Tushin by her first marriage, was also, like her school friend Varvara Petrovna, the daughter of an old-time tax farmer and had also married with a very large dowry. The retired cavalry captain Tushin was himself a man of means and of some ability. At his death he bequeathed a goodly capital to his seven-year-old and only daughter Liza. Now that Lizaveta Nikolaevna was about twenty-two, her own money could safely be reckoned at no less then 200,000 roubles, to say nothing of the fortune that would come to her in time from her mother, who had no children from her second marriage. Varvara Petrovna was apparently quite pleased with her trip. In her opinion, she had managed to come to a satisfactory understanding with Praskovya Ivanovna, and immediately upon her arrival she told everything to Stepan Trofimovich; she was even quite expansive with him, something which had not happened to her in a long time.

'Hurrah!' Stepan Trofimovich cried and snapped his fingers.

He was perfectly delighted, the more so as he had spent the whole time of separation from his friend being extremely dejected. She had not even said a proper good-bye to him as she was leaving, and did not mention any of her plans to 'that old woman,' fearing, perhaps, that he might blurt something out. She was angry with him then for the loss of a considerable sum at cards, which had suddenly been discovered. But while still in Switzerland she had felt in her heart that her abandoned friend should be rewarded on her return, the more so as she had long been treating him severely. The abrupt and mysterious separation struck and tormented the timid heart of Stepan Trofimovich, and, as if by design, other perplexities also came along at the same time.

He suffered over a certain rather considerable and long-standing financial obligation, which could by no means be met without Varvara Petrovna's help. Moreover, in May of this year came the end of our kindly, mild Ivan Osipovich's term as governor; he was replaced, and not without some unpleasantness. Then, in Varvara Petrovna's absence, the entrance of our new superior, Andrei Antonovich von Lembke, also took place; with that there at once began to be a noticeable change in the attitude of almost all our provincial society towards Varvara Petrovna, and, consequently, towards Stepan Trofimovich as well. At least he had already managed to gather a few unpleasant though valuable observations and, it seems, had grown very timid on his own without Varvara Petrovna. He had an alarming suspicion that the new governor had already received reports on him as a dangerous man. He learned positively that some of our ladies intended to stop calling on Varvara Petrovna. It was said repeatedly of the future governor's wife (who was expected here only in the autumn) that though she was, one heard, a haughty woman, at least she was a real aristocrat, not like 'our wretched Varvara Petrovna.' Everyone knew from somewhere, certainly and with details, that the new governor's wife and Varvara Petrovna had already met once in society and had parted in enmity, so that the mere reminder of Mrs. von Lembke supposedly produced a morbid impression on Varvara Petrovna. Varvara Petrovna's bright and victorious look, the contemptuous indifference with which she heard about the opinions of our ladies and the agitation in society, resurrected the fallen spirits of timid Stepan Trofimovich and cheered him up at once. With a special joyfully fawning humor he began to elaborate upon the new governor's arrival.

'You undoubtedly know, excellente amie, ' he spoke, drawing the words out fashionably and coquettishly, 'what is meant by a Russian administrator, generally speaking, and what is meant by a new Russian administrator—that is, newly baked, newly installed... Ces interminables mots russes! ^[ix]... But it is unlikely that you can have learned in practice what administrative rapture means and what sort of thing it is!'

'Administrative rapture? I have no idea.'

'That is... Vous savez, chez nous... En un mot,^[x] set some utter nonentity to selling some paltry railroad tickets, and this nonentity will at once decide he has the right to look at you like Jupiter when you come to buy a ticket, pour vous montrer son pouvoir,^[xi] 'Come,' he thinks, 'I'll show my power over you...' And it reaches the point of administrative rapture with them ... En un mot, I've just read that some beadle in one of our churches abroad—mais c'est tres curieux^[xii]—chased out, I mean literally chased out of the church, a wonderful English family, les dames charmantes, just before the start of the Lenten service—vous savez ces chants et le livre de Job^[xiii]—on the sole pretext that 'it is not in order for foreigners to hang about in Russian churches and they should come at the proper time...' and he sent them all into a faint... This beadle was in a fit of administrative rapture et il a montre son pouvoir^[xiv]. . .'

'Abbreviate if you can, Stepan Trofimovich.'

'Mr. von Lembke is now touring the province. En un mot, this Andrei Antonovich, though he is a Russian German of Orthodox faith and even—I will grant him that—a remarkably handsome man, of the forty-year-old sort ...'

'Where did you get that he's a handsome man? He has sheep's eyes.'

'In the highest degree. But, very well, I yield to the opinion of our ladies...'

'Let's move on, Stepan Trofimovich, I beg you! By the way, since when have you been wearing a red necktie?'

'I... only today...'

'And do you take your exercise? Do you go for a four-mile walk every day, as the doctor prescribed?'

'Not... not always.'

'Just as I thought! I felt it even in Switzerland!' she cried irritably. 'You are now going to walk not four but six miles a day! You've gone terribly to seed, terribly, ter-ri-bly! You're not just old, you're decrepit ... I was struck when I saw you today, in spite of your red necktie ... quelle idee rouge! ^[xv] Go on about von Lembke, if there really is anything to say, but let it end somewhere, I beg you, I'm tired.'