IX
“Nu! how was it?” asked Marya Alekséyevna, as her husband came back.
“Elegant, mátushka; she knew all about it, and she says, ‘How did you dare?’ and I says, ‘We don’t dare, your ladyship, and Viérotchka has already refused him.’ ”
“What? What? You said such nonsense as that, you ass?”
“Marya Alekséyevna—”
“You ass! you villain! you have killed me! you have cut my throat! Take that!”—The husband received a slap. “And take that!” Another slap. “That’s the way to teach you, durak!” She seized him by the hair and began to drag him about the room. The lesson continued for some time, for Storeshnikof, after his mother’s long lecture and pauses, came running into the room, and found Marya Alekséyevna still in the full heat of instruction.
“You ass! you did not even fasten the door—and what a state strangers find us in! You ought to be ashamed to be such a hog [svinya]!” That was all that Marya Alekséyevna found to say.
“Where is Viéra Pavlovna? I must see Viéra Pavlovna! Immediately! Is it true that she refuses me?”
The circumstances were so embarrassing that Marya Alekséyevna could only motion with her hand. The very same thing happened to Napoleon after the Battle of Waterloo, when Marshal Grouchy proved to be stupid like Pavel Konstantinuitch, and La Fayette was bold like Viérotchka; Napoleon was fighting, fighting—doing, accomplishing all the miracles in his art—but it was without avail, and he could only motion with his hand, and say, “I give it all up; let everyone do as he pleases, with himself and with me.”
“Viéra Pavlovna, do you refuse my hand?”
“Judge for yourself; how can I not refuse it?”
“Viéra Pavlovna, I have cruelly offended you; I am to blame; I am worthy of being hung; but I cannot bear your refusal,” etc., etc.
Viérotchka listened to him for several minutes; finally—it was time to put an end to it—this was hard:—
“No, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch, this is enough! Stop! I cannot consent.”
“Well, if that must be so, I beg one favor; you feel just now too keenly how I offended you; don’t give me your answer yet; allow me time to win your forgiveness! I seem to you low, vile; but look, maybe I shall grow to be better; I will use all my strength to become a better man; help me! Don’t push me away now! Give me time! I will obey you in everything that you may ask; you shall see how humble I am; maybe you will see that there is some good in me; only give me time!”
“I am sorry for you,” said Viérotchka; “I see the sincerity of your love.” (Viérotchka, this is not love at all; it is only a mixture of different grades of depravity and meanness: love is something quite different; because a man finds it disagreeable to be refused by a women, that man is not necessarily in love with her; that is not love at all; but Viérotchka does not know this yet and she is touched.) “You want me not to give my answer yet—very good; but I warn you that the postponement will lead to nothing. I shall never give you any other answer than the one that you have just received.”
“I shall deserve—I shall deserve another answer; you will be my salvation!” He grasped her hand and began to kiss it.
Marya Alekséyevna came into the room, and in the stress of her emotion was going to bless her dear children without further formality—that is, without Pavel Konstantinuitch—then to call him, and have them solemnly blessed. Storeshnikof demolished one-half of her joy by explaining to her that Viéra Pavlovna, although she had not as yet consented, did not absolutely refuse, but merely postponed the answer. This was bad; but still it was good compared to what she had expected.
Storeshnikof went home in triumph. Again the threat about the estate came upon the scene, and again Anna Petrovna fell in a swoon.
Marya Alekséyevna was absolutely at a loss to know what to think about Viérotchka. Her daughter spoke as though she were entirely opposed to her intentions. But the result proved that her daughter put an end to all the embarrassment, which had seemed too much for Marya Alekséyevna to manage. If one judged by the course of the affair, then it would look as though Viérotchka wanted the same thing that Marya Alekséyevna wanted; but, as an educated and wily creature, she elaborates her material in a different way. But, if this is so, why should she not say to Marya Alekséyevna, “Mátushka, I desire the same thing that you do; be at ease”? or else she must be so angry at her mother, that she wants to do the very same thing that they are both anxious to bring about, by herself, without her mother’s cooperation. But her willingness to postpone the answer is perfectly comprehensible to Marya Alekséyevna. She wants to give her future husband a thoroughly good schooling, so that he should not dare to breathe without her, and so as to extort Anna Petrovna’s submission. Apparently she is even more cunning than Marya Alekséyevna herself. Whenever Marya Alekséyevna thought about this, her thoughts brought her to this view. But her eyes and ears always testified against it. And meantime how to act if this view is false, if her daughter is not really going to marry Storeshnikof? She is such a wild creature that it is impossible to know how to tame her. But, in all probability, the good-for-nothing Viérka does not want to marry; such is doubtless the case. Marya Alekséyevna’s common sense was really too strong to be deceived by her own wily reasoning about Viérotchka being a cunning intriguer. “But this vile young girl is managing everything in such a way that, when she does marry (and the deuce knows what she has in mind; maybe this very thing!), at all events, she will evidently be the complete mistress over her husband and his mother, and over the whole household; and so, what is left for her? Only to wait and see—nothing else is possible! Just now Viérka does not want to do this; but she will make up her mind for the joke of the thing, and she will want it. Well, besides, we can use moral suasion. Only leave it to time! But now we must wait till that time shall come.”
Marya Alekséyevna waited. But how charming to her was the thought, refuted by her common sense, that Viérka was bringing the affair to a marriage! Everything but Viérotchka’s words and actions corroborated this thought. The future husband was a “silken one”; the future husband’s mother struggled about three weeks, but her son defeated her by using his threat in regard to the estate, and she began to grow more reasonable. She expressed the desire to make Viérotchka’s acquaintance. Viérotchka did not go to see her. At the first moment Marya Alekséyevna thought that if she were in Viérotchka’s place she should have acted more wisely, that she should have gone; but on thinking the matter over, she came to the conclusion that not to go was the wiser course. Oh, what a cunning creature! And, in fact, in a couple of weeks Anna Petrovna herself called, under the pretext that she wanted to look at the arrangement of the new apartment. She was cool and caustically polite. Viérotchka, after listening to two or three of her biting remarks, went to her room. Before she left, it did not occur to Marya Alekséyevna that it was necessary to leave; she thought that it was necessary to answer biting remarks with biting remarks. But when Viérotchka left, Marya Alekséyevna quickly reasoned, “Yes, that was the best move of all; let her son pay her in her own coin—that’s the best way.” At the end of two weeks Anna Petrovna called again, and gave no excuses for her call. She simply said that she came to make them a call, and she said nothing sarcastic in Viérotchka’s presence.
Time passed on. The prospective husband made Viérotchka presents; they were made through Marya Alekséyevna, and of course remained in her possession, like Anna Petrovna’s watch. However, not all of them remained with her; some of the cheapest of them she gave to Viérotchka, saying that they were things that had remained in pawn unredeemed. It was necessary for the prospective husband to see some of his gifts worn by the bride! He saw them and grew more confident that he should get Viérotchka’s consent; otherwise, she would not have accepted his presents. But why does she put off her answer? He himself perceived—and Marya Alekséyevna told him—the reason. “She is waiting till Anna Petrovna gets entirely reconciled.” And he, with redoubled energy, pulled on the line whereto his mother was hooked—an occupation that gave him much satisfaction.
Thus Viérotchka was left in peace; they looked into her eyes. This canine deference was detestable to her; she tried to be with her mother as little as possible. Her mother ceased to have the courage to enter her room, and when Viérotchka was sitting there, and this was the larger part of the day, she was not disturbed. Mikhaïl Ivanuitch was occasionally allowed to enter her room. He was as obedient to her as a child. She told him to read; he read with great energy, as though to get ready for an examination. He derived very little instruction from his reading, but still he got some good from it. She tried to help him shine in conversation. Conversations came easier to him than books; and he made some progress, very slow, very trifling, but all the same he progressed. He began to treat his mother with more respect than before; began to prefer keeping her under the bridle than on the hook.
Thus passed three or four months. There was a reconciliation, there was peace; but every day a storm threatened, and Viérotchka’s heart was dying within her at the horrible anticipation—if not today, then tomorrow Mikhaïl Ivanuitch or Marya Alekséyevna would demand of her the answer. They will not wait a whole century.
If I were to want to make an effective collision, I should give to this situation a crackling conclusion; but such did not occur. If I wanted to allure by uncertainty, I should not say now that nothing of the kind happened; but I am writing without any subterfuges, and I therefore will anticipate and say there will be no crackling collision; the situation will be untied without storms, without thunder or lightning.