Part 11

Márya Dmítrievna launched out into a description of her toils, her efforts, and her maternal feelings. Lavrétzky listened to her in silence, and twirled his hat in his hands. His cold, heavy gaze disconcerted the loquacious lady.

"And how do you like Liza?"--she asked.

"Lizavéta Mikhaílovna is an extremely beautiful girl,"--replied Lavrétzky, rose, bowed, and went to Márfa Timoféevna. Márya Dmítrievna gazed after him with displeasure, and said to herself: "What a dolt, what a peasant! Well, now I understand why his wife could not remain faithful to him."

Márfa Timoféevna was sitting in her own room, surrounded by her suite. It consisted of five beings, almost equally near to her heart: a fat-jowled trained bullfinch, which she loved because he had ceased to whistle and draw water; a tiny, very timorous and peaceable dog, Róska; an angry cat Matrós (Sailor); a black-visaged nimble little girl of nine, with huge eyes and a sharp little nose, who was named Schúrotchka; and an elderly woman, fifty years of age, in a white cap, and a light brown, bob-tailed jacket over a dark gown, by name Nastásya Kárpovna Ogárkoff. Schúrotchka was of the petty burgher class, a full orphan. Márfa Timoféevna had taken charge of her out of pity, as she had of Róska: she had picked up both the dog and the girl in the street; both were thin and hungry, both were being drenched by the autumnal rain, no one had hunted up Róska, and Schúrotchka's uncle, a drunken shoemaker, who had not enough to eat himself, and who did not feed his niece, though he beat her over the head with his last, gladly surrendered her to Márfa Timoféevna. With Nastásya Kárpovna, Márfa Timoféevna had made acquaintance on a pilgrimage, in a monastery; she herself had gone up to her in church (Márfa Timoféevna liked her because, to use her own words, "she prayed tastily"), had herself begun the conversation, and had invited her to come to her for a cup of tea. From that day forth, she had never parted with her. Nastásya Kárpovna was a woman of the merriest and gentlest disposition, a childless widow, member of a poverty-stricken family of the petty nobility; she had a round, grey head, soft white hands, a soft face, with large, kindly features, and a rather ridiculous snub nose; she fairly worshipped Márfa Timoféevna, and the latter loved her greatly, although she jeered at her tender heart: Nastásya Kárpovna felt a weakness for all young people, and involuntarily blushed like a girl at the most innocent jest. Her entire capital consisted of twelve hundred paper rubles; she lived at the expense of Márfa Timoféevna, but on equal terms with her: Márfa Timoféevna would not have tolerated servility.

"Ah, Fédya!" she began, as soon as she caught sight of him:--"last night, thou didst not see my family: admire it. We are all assembled for tea; this is our second, feast-day tea. Thou mayest pet all: only Schúrotchka will not allow thee, and the cat scratches. Art thou going away to-day?"

"Yes,"--Lavrétzky seated himself on a narrow little chair.--"I have already said farewell to Márya Dmítrievna. I have also seen Lizavéta Mikhaílovna."

"Call her Liza, my father,--why should she be Mikhaílovna to thee! And sit still, or thou wilt break Schúrotchka's chair."

"She has gone to church,"--pursued Lavrétzky. "Is she pious?"

"Yes, Fédya,--very. More than thou and I, Fédya."

"But are not you pious?"--remarked Nastásya Kárpovna, in a whisper. "And to-day: you did not get to the early Liturgy, but you will go to the later one."

"Not a bit of it--thou wilt go alone: I am lazy, my mother,"--retorted Márfa Timoféevna,--"I am pampering myself greatly with my tea."--She called Nastásya thou, although she lived on equal terms with her,--she was not a Péstoff for nothing: three Péstoffs are recorded with distinction in the Book of Remembrance of Iván Vasílievitch, the Terrible; Márfa Timoféevna knew it.

"Tell me, please,"--began Lavrétzky again:--"Márya Dmítrievna has just been talking about that ... what's his name ... Pánshin. What sort of a person is he?"

"What a chatterbox, the Lord forgive her!"--grumbled Márfa Timoféevna:--"I suppose she imparted to you, as a secret, what a fine suitor has turned up. She might do her whispering with her priest's son; but no, that is not enough for her. But there's nothing in it, as yet, and thank God for that! but she's babbling already."

"Why 'thank God'?"--asked Lavrétzky.

"Why, because the young fellow does not please me; and what is there to rejoice about?"

"He does not please you?"

"Yes, he cannot fascinate everybody. It's enough that Nastásya Kárpovna here should be in love with him."

The poor widow was thoroughly startled.

"What makes you say that, Márfa Timoféevna? You do not fear God!"--she exclaimed, and a blush instantly suffused her face and neck.

"And he certainly knows the rogue,"--Márfa Timoféevna interrupted her:--"he knows how to captivate her: he presented her with a snuff-box. Fédya, ask her to give thee a pinch of snuff; thou wilt see what a splendid snuff-box it is: on the lid is depicted a hussar on horseback. Thou hadst better not defend thyself, my mother."

Nastásya Kárpovna merely repelled the suggestion with a wave of her hands.

"Well,"--inquired Lavrétzky,--"and is Liza not indifferent to him?"

"Apparently, she likes him,--however, the Lord only knows. Another man's soul, thou knowest, is a dark forest, much more the soul of a young girl. Now, there's Schúrotchka's soul--try to dissect that! Why has she been hiding herself, and yet does not go away, ever since thou camest?"

Schúrotchka snorted with suppressed laughter and ran out of the room, and Lavrétzky rose from his seat.

"Yes,"--he said slowly:--"a maiden's soul is not to be divined."

He began to take leave.

"Well? Shall we see thee again soon?"--asked Márfa Timoféevna.

"That's as it may happen, aunty; it is not far off."