I
It is well known how situations like the above would end in former times: a fine young girl, belonging to a low family, an insignificant man who is to become her husband under compulsion, who is detestable to her, who when left to himself, being already a mean man, would constantly grow meaner, but joined to her, comes under her influence, and little by little begins to resemble a man, of no especial account, to be sure, not very good, but, on the other hand, not very bad. The girl at first declares that she will not marry him; but gradually getting accustomed to having him under her command, and being convinced that out of two such evils as such a husband and such a family as her own, the husband would be the less evil, makes her admirer happy. At first it is detestable to her when she finds that she can make her husband happy without loving him; but her husband is obedient—“patience makes love,”—and she becomes an ordinary fine lady, that is, a woman who, excellent naturally, gets reconciled to meanness, and living on the earth only vegetates (literally, obscures the heaven with smoke). Such used to be the way, in old times, with nice young girls, such used to be the way with nice young men, all of whom became excellent people, but lived on earth in such a way as to obscure the heaven. Such used to be the way in former times, because excellent people were very few; the harvest of them, apparently, was so small in old times that there was not one to a ten-acre lot, and no one can live a century as a single man or a single woman without fading away! And thus they either used to fade away or reconcile themselves to meanness.
But nowadays it happens more and more frequently that things take a different turn: respectable people get acquainted with each other. Yes, and how can this help happening more and more often when the number of respectable people increases with every new year? And, in time, this will be a very ordinary occurrence, and, indeed, the time will come when nothing else will happen, because all people will be decent. Then it will be very good!
Good it was for Viérotchka also. Therefore, with her permission, I will relate to you the story of her life, since, so far as I know, she is one of the first women whose life was established in this good way. First occurrences have a historical interest. The first swallow is regarded with great interest by the natives of the North.
The occurrences by means of which Viérotchka’s life began to improve were somewhat in this order: It was necessary to get Viérotchka’s little brother ready for the gymnasium. Her father asked his colleagues if they knew of a cheap tutor. One of his colleagues recommended to him the medical student Lopukhóf.
Lopukhóf gave five or six lessons to his new pupil before he and Viérotchka met. He used to sit with Feódor in one room of the apartment, she in another, in her own room. It was getting time for the examinations at the medical school, and so he changed the lesson hours from morning till the evening, because in the morning he had to do his own studying, and when it came evening, he found the whole family at tea.
On the sofa were sitting his acquaintances—the father, the mother of the pupil; behind the mother, on a chair, the pupil was sitting, and somewhat farther, a person whom he did not know, a tall, well-proportioned young girl, rather slender, with black hair—“thick, handsome hair!”—with black eyes—“her eyes are handsome, yes, very handsome”—with the Southern type of face—“as though she were a Malo-Russian, or rather even a Caucasian type; that’s nothing, a very handsome face, but somewhat reserved; but that’s not Southern. Her health is good; there would not be as many of us doctors if people were like her. Yes, healthy red cheeks and a good broad chest, she’ll never make the acquaintance of the stethoscope. When she enters society she will create a great effect. However, it does not interest me.”
And she looked up at the tutor as he came in. The student was no longer young, a man of medium size or possibly taller than the average, with dark auburn hair, with regular and even handsome features, with a proud and courageous expression; “not bad-looking; he must be kind, but he’s too solemn.”
She did not add to her thoughts the epilogue, “it does not interest me,” because it did not occur to her to ask herself whether she would be interested in him or not. Why should she be, when Feódor told her so much about him that she was weary of hearing? “He is kind, sister, but he is not sociable. And I told him, sister, that you were a beauty, and, sister, he said, ‘What of that?’ And I told him, sister, ‘that everybody falls in love with pretty girls’; and he said, ‘All stupid people fall in love’; and I said ‘Don’t you like them?’ and he said, ‘I have no time.’ And, sister, I said to him, ‘Don’t you want to get acquainted with Viérotchka?’ and he said, ‘I have a good many acquaintances beside her.’ ”
All this Feódor rattled off immediately after the first lesson, and afterwards he kept saying much the same thing with various additions: “And I told him today, sister, that ‘everybody looks at you whenever you go anywhere,’ and, sister, he said, ‘Well, that’s good’; and I said to him, ‘Don’t you want to see her?’ and he said, ‘I shall have time enough to see her.’ ” And then again: “I told him, sister, ‘what little hands you had,’ and, sister, he said, ‘You want to chatter; haven’t you got anything better to chatter about?’ ”
And the tutor learned from Feódor everything that was worth knowing about his sister; he tried to stop Feódor’s chattering about family affairs, but how can you stop a nine-year-old child from chattering to you about everything unless you threaten him? After he has said five words you succeed in stopping him, but then it is too late; because children begin without any preface, getting the very essence of the thing; and among all sorts of disclosures relating to his family affairs the tutor heard such disjointed sentences as these: “My sister is going to marry a rich man”; “and mámenka says that the bridegroom is a stupid”; “and how mámenka flatters him”; “and mámenka says, ‘sister caught him cute’ ”; “and mámenka says, ‘I am cute, but Viérotchka is cuter’ ”; “and mámenka says, ‘we are going to fire the bridegroom’s mother out of the house’ ”; and so forth.
Naturally, when the young people got such ideas of each other, they had no great desire to become acquainted. However, so far, we know only this much: that it was natural on Viérotchka’s part; she had not reached that stage of development that she had any desire of “defeating savages,” or of “taming such a bear”; nay, she was still far from it; she was glad that she was left in peace; she was like a crushed and tortured man, who has the good fortune to fall in such a way that the broken arm is undisturbed and the pain in the side is not felt, and who fears to move lest the pain in all his joints should return. Why should she care to form new acquaintances, and especially with young men?
Yes, such is Viérotchka. Nu! but he? He is like a savage, to judge him by Feódor’s description, and his head is full of books and anatomical preparations, such as fill the soul of a medical student with the keenest delight and furnish him the richest pabulum. Or perhaps Feódor misrepresented him?