VIII
How could Matrióna help trembling when the whole trouble arose through her? As soon as she called Viérotchka to her pápenka and mámenka, she immediately ran off to tell the wife of the khozyáïka’s cook how “your barin is courting our baruishna”; they called the youngest of the khozyáïka’s chambermaids, and began to blame her for her unfriendliness in not having told them anything about it before. The youngest chambermaid could not understand what the secret was that they blamed her for not telling: she had never concealed anything. They told her when she said, “I have not concealed anything,” that they were sorry for reproaching her for concealing anything. She ran off to tell the news to the oldest of the chambermaids; the oldest of the chambermaids said, “Of course, he has done this without his mother’s knowledge, because I have not heard anything, and I must know everything that Anna Petrovna knows,” and she went off to tell the whole story to the baruina; such was the mischief caused by Matrióna! “My confounded little tongue has made me a great deal of bother,” she thought. “Marya Alekséyevna will find out who let the cat out of the bag.” But it happened that Marya Alekséyevna forgot to ask who told of it.
Anna Petrovna could not say anything else but akh and okh: twice she fell in a swoon, even while she was alone with the senior chambermaid. Of course, she was greatly shocked, and she summoned her son. The son appeared.
“Michel, is it true what I have heard?” in a tone of indignant suffering.
“What have you heard, maman?”
“That you have offered yourself to this—to this—to this—to the daughter of our manager!”
“I have, maman.”
“Without asking your mother’s consent?”
“I intended to ask your consent after I had obtained hers.”
“I presume that you were surer of her consent than of mine!”
“Maman, it is the fashion nowadays to get the girl’s consent first, and to speak to relations afterwards.”
“Is that your fashion? Maybe it is also your fashion for the sons of good families to marry God knows whom, and for the mothers to consent to it?”
“But, maman, she is not ‘a God-knows-whom’; when you come to know her you will approve of my choice.”
“ ‘When I know her!’ I shall never know her! ‘I approve of your choice’! I forbid any thought of this choice! Do you hear? I forbid it!”
“Maman, this is not the fashion nowadays; I am not a little boy to be led around by the hand by you. I know myself where I am going.”
“Akh!” Anna Petrovna shut her eyes.
Mikhaïl Ivanuitch had to yield before Marya Alekséyevna, to Julie, to Viérotchka, because they were women of sense and strong character; but here, as far as sense was concerned, the battle was drawn, and if the mother was stronger by reason of her character, still the son felt solid ground under his feet; he had stood in awe of his mother hitherto through habit, but they both remembered very well that in reality the khozyáïka was not the khozyáïka, but only the mother of the khozyáïn; and again that the khozyáïka’s son is in reality not the khozyáïka’s son, but the khozyáïn. And therefore the khozyáïka hesitated to use the decided word “forbid”; she prolonged the conversation, hoping to defeat her son and get him tired out before a genuine battle was fought. But the son had gone to such lengths that it was impossible to withdraw, and he was compelled by the necessity of the case to fight it out.
“Maman, I assure you that a better daughter you could not have.”
“You torment! your mother’s murderer!”
“Maman, let us reason about it coolly. Sooner or later I shall have to get married, and a married man must have greater expenses than a bachelor. I could, of course, marry such a woman that all the income of the estate would have to be spent on my establishment. But she will be a dutiful daughter, and we could live with you just as I always have.”
“Torment! my murderer! get out of my sight!”
“Maman, don’t be angry; I am not in the least to blame!”
“Marry such a wench, and not to blame!”
“Now, maman, I am going to leave you. I do not want you to call her such names in my presence.”
“My murderer!”
Anna Petrovna fell in a swoon, and Michel went off, satisfied with the courageous way in which he had carried out the first scene, which was the most important of all.
Seeing that her son was gone, Anna Petrovna recovered from her swoon. Her son has absolutely escaped from her power! In response to her “I forbid” he explains that the house is his! Anna Petrovna thought and thought; she poured out her grief before the senior chambermaid, who in these circumstances shared absolutely in the khozyáïka’s feelings of contempt for the manager’s daughter; she consulted with her and sent for the manager.
“Hitherto I have been very well satisfied with you, Pavel Konstantinuitch; but now these intrigues, in which possibly you have had no share, may compel me to quarrel with you.”
“Your ladyship, I am not to blame in the slightest degree, ’fore God!”
“I knew long ago that Michel was hanging around your daughter. I did not put a stop to it, because a young man cannot live without recreation. I am willing to make allowances for the mischief of young men, but I cannot endure that my family should be degraded. How did your daughter dare to think of entertaining such an ambition?”
“Your ladyship, she has not dared to entertain any such ambition. She is a modest girl; we have brought her up respectably.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Your ladyship, she would never dare to do anything against your will.”
Anna Petrovna did not believe her ears. Can it be possible that this good news is true?
“You must be aware what my will is. I cannot consent to such an unnatural and, I may say, disreputable marriage.”
“We are sensible of that, your ladyship, and Viérotchka feels it also. She said so; ‘I do not dare to offend her ladyship,’ were her very words.”
“How could that be?”
“It happened, your ladyship, that Mikhaïl Ivanuitch named his intentions to my wife, and my wife told him that she could not give him an answer till to-morry mornin’, and my wife and me intended, your ladyship, to call on you and tell you all about it, because, bein’ as it was late, we did not dare to disturb your ladyship. And when Mikhaïl Ivanuitch went, we told Viérotchka, and she said, ‘I perfectly agree with you, pápenka and mámenka, that it is not to be dreamed of.’ ”
“Is she such a sensible and honest girl?”
“Certainly, your ladyship, she is a virtuous girl.”
“Well, I am very glad that we can remain friends with you. I will pay you for this. I am even now ready to pay you for this. On the front stairs, where the tailor lives, the apartment on the second floor is vacant, isn’t it?”
“It will be vacant in three days, your ladyship.”
“Take it for yourself. You may spend a hundred rubles to have it put in order, and I will add to your salary two hundred and forty rubles a year.”
“Allow me to kiss your ladyship’s little hand!”
“Very well, that will do.—Tatiana!” The senior chambermaid came in. “Find me my blue velvet cloak. I want to give this to your wife. It cost me one hundred and fifty rubles [really eighty-five!] I have only worn it twice [in reality, more than twenty times]. And this I give to your daughter.” Anna Petrovna handed the manager a lady’s small watch. “I paid three hundred rubles” (in reality one hundred and twenty) “for it. I can make presents, and I shall not forget you in the future either. I make allowances for the mischief of young men.”
After dismissing the manager, Anna Petrovna again summoned Tatiana: “Ask Mikhaïl Ivanuitch to come to me—or, no, it’s better, I will go him myself.” She was afraid that her messenger would tell the news to her son’s valet, and the valet would tell her son what news the manager brought, and the bouquet would vanish, and not make the impression on her son’s nose as if it were fresh from the wine of her own words!
Mikhaïl Ivanuitch was lying down, and not without some satisfaction, was twisting his mustache: “Now, what has brought her here? I have no smelling-salts for fainting-fits!” he thought, getting up when his mother entered. But he saw in her face a scornful triumph.
She sat down; she said: “Sit down, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch, and we will have a talk.” And she looked at him for a long time with a smile; at last she continued: “I am very well content, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch; guess why I am content.”
“I do not know what to guess, maman; you are so strange—”
“You will see that there is nothing strange at all; think away, and perhaps you will guess!”
Again a long pause. He is lost in perplexity; she is enjoying her triumph.
“You cannot guess; I will tell you. It is very simple and natural; if you had a spark of noble feeling, you would have guessed it. Your mistress”—in the former talk Anna Petrovna had to tack ship, but now she had no reason to tack; the means of defeating her was taken away from her opponent—“Your mistress—don’t you answer me back, Mikhaïl Ivanuitch—you yourself have boasted everywhere that she was your mistress—this creature of low origin, of low training, of low behavior—even this contemptible creature—”
“Maman, I am not willing to hear such expressions about the girl who is to be my wife.”
“I should not have used them, if I had thought that she was going to be your wife. And I began with the intention of explaining to you that this was not to be, and why it was not to be. Allow me to finish. Then you may freely reproach me for these expressions, which will then be out of place according to your idea; but now allow me to finish. I wish to say that your mistress, this nameless creature, untrained, mannerless, feelingless—even she puts you to shame, even she understands all the shamelessness of your intentions—”
“What? what is that? Speak, maman!”
“You yourself are hindering me. I was going to say that even she—do you hear?—even she!—could understand and appreciate my feelings; even she when she learned from her mother about your offer, sent her father to tell me, that she would not put herself in opposition to my will and would not degrade our family by her polluted name.”
“Maman, you are deceiving me!”
“Fortunately for me and you, no! She says that—”
But Mikhaïl Ivanuitch was no longer in the room; he had already put on his army coat.
“Hold him, Piotr! hold him!” cried Anna Petrovna. Piotr opened wide his mouth at such an extraordinary command, but Mikhaïl Ivanuitch was already running down the front doorsteps.