Part 30

"I do,"--replied Liza, in a tranquil voice.

"Gracious heavens! she loves him!"--Márfa Timoféevna tore off her cap.--"She loves a married man! Hey? she loves!"

"He told me,"--began Liza....

"What did he tell thee, the darling, wha-at was it?"

"He told me that his wife was dead."

Márfa Timoféevna crossed herself.--"The kingdom of heaven be hers,"--she whispered:--"she was a frivolous woman--God forgive her. So that's how it is: then he's a widower. Yes, I see that he is equal to anything. He killed off his first wife, and now he's after another. Thou art a sly one, art thou not? Only, this is what I have to say to thee, niece: in my time, when I was young, girls were severely punished for such capers. Thou must not be angry with me, my mother; only fools get angry at the truth. I have given orders that he is not to be admitted to-day. I am fond of him, but I shall never forgive him for this. A widower, forsooth! Give me some water.... But thou art my brave girl, for sending Panshín off with a long face; only, do not sit out nights with that goat's breed,--with men,--do not grieve me, an old woman! For I am not always amiable--I know how to bite, also!... A widower!"

Márfa Timoféevna departed, but Liza sat down in the corner and began to cry. She felt bitter in soul; she had not deserved such humiliation. Her love had not announced its presence by cheerfulness; this was the second time she had wept since the night before. That new, unexpected feeling had barely come to life in her heart when she had had to pay so heavily for it, when strange hands had roughly touched her private secret! She felt ashamed, and pained, and bitter: but there was neither doubt nor terror in her,--and Lavrétzky became all the dearer to her. She had hesitated as long as she did not understand herself; but after that meeting--she could hesitate no longer; she knew that she loved,--and had fallen in love honourably, not jestingly, she had become strongly attached, for her whole life; she felt that force could not break that bond.

XXXIX

Márya Dmítrievna was greatly perturbed when the arrival of Varvára Pávlovna was announced to her; she did not even know whether to receive her; she was afraid of offending Feódor Ivánitch. At last, curiosity carried the day. "What of it?"--she said to herself,--"why, she is a relative also,"--and seating herself in her arm-chair, she said to the lackey: "Ask her in!" Several minutes elapsed; the door opened, Varvára Pávlovna approached Márya Dmítrievna swiftly, with barely audible footsteps, and, without giving her a chance to rise from her chair, almost went down on her knees before her.

"Thank you, aunty,"--she began in a touched and gentle voice, in Russian: "thank you! I had not hoped for such condescension on your part; you are as kind as an angel."

As she uttered these words, Varvára Pávlovna unexpectedly took possession of one of Márya Dmítrievna's hands, and pressing it lightly in her pale-lilac gloves, obsequiously raised it to her full, rosy lips. Márya Dmítrievna completely lost her head, on beholding such a beautiful, charmingly-dressed woman, almost on her knees at her feet; she did not know what to do: she did not wish to withdraw her hand, she wished to give her a seat, and to say something amiable to her; she ended by rising, and kissing Varvára Pávlovna on her smooth, fragrant brow. Varvára Pávlovna was perfectly dumfounded by this kiss.

"Good morning,--bon jour,"--said Márya Dmítrievna:--"of course, I had no idea, ... however, of course, I am delighted to see you. You understand, my dear,--it is not for me to sit in judgment between wife and husband."

"My husband is wholly in the right,"--Varvára Pávlovna interrupted her:--"I alone am to blame."

"That is a very praiseworthy sentiment,"--returned Márya Dmítrievna:--"very. Have you been here long? Have you seen him? But sit down, pray."

"I arrived yesterday,"--replied Varvára Pávlovna, meekly seating herself on a chair; "I have seen Feódor Ivánitch, I have talked with him."

"Ah! Well, and how does he take it?"

"I was afraid that my sudden arrival would arouse his wrath,"--went on Varvára Pávlovna:--"but he did not deprive me of his presence."

"That is to say, he did not.... Yes, yes, I understand,"--ejaculated Márya Dmítrievna.--"He is only rather rough in appearance, but his heart is soft."

"Feódor Ivánitch has not forgiven me; he would not listen to me.... But he was so kind as to appoint Lavríki for my place of residence."

"Ah! A very fine estate!"

"I set out thither to-morrow, in compliance with his will; but I considered it my duty to call on you first."

"I am very, very grateful to you, my dear. One must never forget one's relatives. And, do you know, I am astonished that you speak Russian so well. C'est étonnant!"

Varvára Pávlovna sighed.

"I have spent too much time abroad, Márya Dmítrievna, I know that; but my heart has always been Russian, and I have not forgotten my native land."

"Exactly so, exactly so; that is the best of all. Feódor Ivánitch, however, did not in the least expect you.... Yes; believe my experience; la patrie avant tout. Akh, please show me,--what a charming mantle that is you have on!"

"Do you like it?"--Varvára Pávlovna promptly dropped it from her shoulders.--"It is a very simple thing, from Madame Baudran."

"That is instantly perceptible. From Madame Baudran.... How charming, and what taste! I am convinced that you have brought with you a mass of the most entrancing things. I should like to look them over."

"My entire toilette is at your service, my dearest aunt. If you will permit, I can give your maid some points. I have a maid-servant from Paris,--a wonderful seamstress."