IV
“Serge, does her mother speak French?” were Julie’s first words when she awoke.
“I don’t know; so you have not put that idea out of your head yet?”
“No, I have not.”
And after taking into consideration all that they had seen in the theatre, they decided that in all probability this young girl’s mother did not speak French. So Julie took Serge along with her as interpreter. At all events, such was his fate, and he would have had to go even if Viérotchka’s mother had been the Cardinal Mezzofanti; and he did not complain of his fate, but went everywhere with Julie, as though he were maid of honor to some heroine! Julie got up late, but on the way she stopped at Wickman’s, and then, though it was not on her way, she went to four other stores because she needed certain articles. It was in this way that Mikhaïl Ivanuitch had ample time to explain himself, Marya Alekséyevna had ample time to get enraged and to get calmed down, before Julie and Serge came from the Liteinaïa bridge to the Gorokhovaïa Street.
“But what excuse have we for coming here? Fy, what miserable stairs! I never saw such even in Paris!”
“It’s all the same; make up an excuse. Her mother keeps a sort of a pawn shop. Take off your brooch! Hold on! here’s a better one: she gives piano lessons. Let’s say that you have a niece.”
Matrióna for the first time in her life was ashamed of her smashed cheekbone when she saw Serge’s uniform, and especially Julie’s magnificence; she had never before met face to face with a woman of such importance. Marya Alekséyevna was in such a state of wonder and indescribable surprise when Matrióna announced that Colonel N⸺ N⸺ with his spouse had done themselves the honor of calling! especially those words “with his spouse”!
The gossip that permeated into the circle where Marya Alekséyevna moved, affected exclusively the class of civilians, but the gossip about genuine aristocrats died away in the air before it reached halfway down to Marya Alekséyevna; therefore she accepted in the full legal interpretation of the thought the words husband and wife, as Serge and Julie called each other, in accordance with the Parisian fashion. Marya Alekséyevna quickly composed herself and hastened down to meet them.
Serge said that he was very glad of the chance that he had had the evening before, etc., that his wife had a niece, etc., that his wife did not speak Russian, and therefore he was interpreter.
“Yes, I may be grateful to my Creator,” said Marya Alekséyevna; “Viérotchka has a great talent for teaching the piano, and I should count it a great piece of luck if she were to visit such a house as yours. Only my little teacher is not very well just now.”
Marya Alekséyevna spoke particularly loud, so that Viérotchka might hear and understand the approaching truce. She herself in her admiration, as it were, devoured her visitors with her eyes.
“I don’t know whether she’s got the strength to come out and give you a proof of her skill on the piano.—Viérotchka, my love, can you come out or not? Only some strangers—there won’t be a scene—why won’t you come out?”
Viérotchka opened the door, glanced at Serge, and turned crimson with shame and anger. Even unobservant eyes could not have failed to take notice of this, and Julie’s eyes were sharper, if that were possible, than even Marya Alekséyevna’s. The French woman began without beating around the bush:—
“My dear child, you are surprised and indignant to see a man in whose presence you were so much offended last night, and who probably himself gave you some reason for offence. My husband is thoughtless; but for all that, he is far better than the rest of the lazy young fellows. Please forgive him for my sake; I came to you with good intentions. The lessons for my niece was only a pretence; but it is necessary to keep it up for a while. Please play us something—something quite short; then you and I will go to your room, and we’ll talk the matter over. Listen to me, my child.”
Can this be the same Julie who is so well known among the aristocratic young bloods of Petersburg? Can this be the same Julie who plays such tricks as make even devil-may-care young fellows blush? No, it is a princess to whose ears a rough word never came!
Viérotchka sat down to show her skill on the piano. Julie stood behind her; Serge engaged himself in conversation with Marya Alekséyevna, with the view of finding out what the relationship was between her and Storeshnikof. In the course of a few minutes Julie stopped Viérotchka, put her arm around her waist, walked with her up and down the parlor, then went with her to her room. Serge explained that his wife was satisfied with Viérotchka’s playing, but wanted to speak with her because it was necessary also to know the teacher’s character, etc., and he continued to talk with Marya Alekséyevna about Storeshnikof. All this was excellent, but Marya Alekséyevna found reason for greater suspicion and vigilance.
“My dear child,” said Julie, as she entered Viérotchka’s room, “your mother is a very bad woman. But in order that I may know what to say to you, I beg of you to tell me how and why you went to the theatre last night. I know all about it already from my husband, but from your story I shall learn your character. Don’t be afraid of me.” And when she had heard Viérotchka’s account, she continued:—
“Yes, one can speak plainly with you; you have character.” And in very careful, delicate terms she told the story of the wager that had been made the evening before; whereupon Viérotchka told her about the invitation to go to ride.
“Now do you suppose he wanted to deceive your mother, or were they both in a conspiracy against you?”
Viérotchka began to aver with much warmth that her mother was not such a bad woman as to be in a conspiracy.
“It won’t take me long to find out,” said Julie. “You stay here; you are not needed there.” Julie returned to the parlor.
“Serge, he has invited this woman and her daughter to take a ride this evening. Tell her about last night’s supper.”
“Your daughter is agreeable to my wife; now it is necessary to see about her terms; in all probability we shall not have any trouble on that score. But allow me to finish our talk about our mutual friend. You give him very high praise, but are you aware of the way that he talks about his relationship to your family? For example, do you know why he invited us last evening to your box?”
In Marya Alekséyevna’s eyes there gleamed, instead of a look of anxious inquiry, the thought, “Then it is so!”
“I am not a gossip,” she replied with dissatisfaction. “I myself do not carry tattle around, and I don’t listen much to the tattle of others.” This was said not without sarcasm, in spite of all her admiration of her visitor. “There are always a good many little things that young people talk about among themselves; there is no need of bothering with them.”
“Very good; well then, do you call this also gossip?” He began to tell the story of the supper. Marya Alekséyevna did not let him finish; as soon as he said the first word about the wager, she leaped to her feet and cried out in wrath, entirely forgetting the importance of her guests:—
“Now what sort of tricks are these! Akh! the villain! Akh! the murderer! Now I see why he invited us to go a-driving! He wanted to get me out of the way so as to ruin a defenceless young girl! Akh! the beastly man!” and so she went on. Then she began to thank her guests for salvation of her life and her daughter’s honor. “And so that was what you were driving at, bátiushka; I suspicioned it at the very first, that you did not come without some good reason; lessons is lessons, but I saw that you had some other game; but I did not think that was the reason; I thought that you had some other bride for him, that you wanted to take him away from us; I have been unjust to you, poor sinner that I am; be generous and forgive me! You have done me such a great favor that I shall never forget it as long as I live.” And thus she went on pouring out curses, blessings, excuses, in a disorderly torrent.
Julie did not listen long to this endless speech, the meaning of which was plain to her from the tone of her voice, and from her gestures. While Marya Alekséyevna was speaking the very first words, the French woman got up and returned to Viérotchka’s room.
“No, your mother was not his accomplice, and now she is very indignant with him. But I know such people as your mother very well. They can’t long hold out in their dislike of people who have money. She will soon be on the lookout for a husband for you again, and what will be the end of it all, God knows. At all events, it will be very hard for you. At first she will leave you in peace; but I tell you it will not last long. What are you going to do now? Have you any relatives in Petersburg?”
“No.”
“That is too bad. Have you a lover?”
Viérotchka did not know how to answer this; she only opened her eyes in wonder.
“Forgive me, forgive me; I might have known that, but so much the worse. Of course, then you have no one to protect you. What can be done? Now listen; I am not what I seemed to you at first. I am not his wife; we only live together. I am known in all Petersburg as a very bad woman, but I am an honest woman. To visit me would cost you your reputation; it is sufficiently risky for you that I have called at your rooms only once, and to call upon you a second time would be sure ruin. Meantime it is necessary for me to see you again, and probably more than once; that is, if you have any confidence in me. Yes? Then what time can I see you tomorrow?”
“About twelve o’clock,” said Viérotchka. This was rather too early for Julie, but all right; she would give orders to be called at that time, and she would meet Viérotchka at the Gostinui Dvor, opposite the Nevsky Prospekt. This place is not so much frequented as the others; it will be easier to find each other, and no one knows Julie there.
“Yes, and here is another lucky thought; give me a piece of paper; I’ll write a note to that contemptible fellow, and so get him into my power.” Julie wrote, “Monsieur Storeshnikof, you are now in all probability in great embarrassment; if you wish to get out of it, come to my house at seven o’clock. M. le Tellier.”
“Now, goodbye.”
Julie offered her hand, but Viérotchka threw herself on her neck, kissed her, wept, and kissed her again, and Julie was still less able to bear it; she shed tears still more abundantly than Viérotchka; the feeling that she was doing a noble deed gave her such happiness and pride that it was very touching; she went into ecstasies, she kept on speaking, always with tears and kisses, and finally she ended with an exclamation:—
“My friend! my dear child! may God spare you from knowing what I am feeling now, when, for the first time in many years, pure lips touch mine. Die, but don’t give a kiss without love!”