The following day pa.s.sed rather languidly. Rain fell from early morning; Lemm cast furtive glances from beneath his eyebrows, and pursed up his lips more and more tightly, as though he had vowed to himself never to open them again. On lying down to sleep, Lavretzky had taken to bed with him a whole pile of French newspapers, which had already been lying on his table for two weeks, with their wrappers unbroken. He set to work idly to strip off the wrappers, and glance through the columns of the papers, which, however, contained nothing new. He was on the point of throwing them aside,--when, all of a sudden, he sprang out of bed as though he had been stung. In the feuilleton of one of the papers, M'sieu Jules, already known to us, imparted to his readers "a sad bit of news": "The charming, bewitching native of Moscow," he wrote, "one of the queens of fashion, the ornament of Parisian salons, Madame de Lavretzki, had died almost instantaneously,--and this news, unhappily only too true, had only just reached him, M. Jules. He was,"--he continued,--"he might say, a friend of the deceased...."

Lavretzky dressed himself, went out into the garden, and until morning dawned, he paced back and forth in one and the same alley.

XXVIII

On the following morning, at tea, Lemm requested Lavretzky to furnish him with horses, that he might return to town. "It is time that I should set about my work,--that is to say, my lessons," remarked the old man:--"but here I am only wasting time in vain." Lavretzky did not immediately reply to him: he seemed preoccupied. "Very well,"--he said at last;--"I will accompany you myself."--Without any aid from the servants, grunting and fuming, Lemm packed his small trunk, and tore up and burned several sheets of music-paper. The horses were brought round. As he emerged from his study, Lavretzky thrust into his pocket the newspaper of the day before.

During the entire journey, Lemm and Lavretzky had very little to say to each other: each of them was engrossed with his own thoughts, and each was delighted that the other did not disturb him. And they parted rather coldly,--which, by the way, frequently happens between friends in Russia.

Lavretzky drove the old man to his tiny house: the latter alighted, got out his trunk, and without offering his hand to his friend (he held his trunk in front of his chest with both hands), without even looking at him,--he said in Russian: "Good-bye, sir!"--"Good-bye,"--repeated Lavretzky, and ordered his coachman to drive him to his own lodgings. (He had hired a lodging in the town of O * * * in case he might require it.) After writing several letters and dining in haste, Lavretzky took his way to the Kalitins. In their drawing-room he found no one but Panshin, who informed him that Marya Dmitrievna would be down directly, and immediately entered into conversation with him, with the most cordial amiability. Up to that day, Panshin had treated Lavretzky, not exactly in a patronizing way, yet condescendingly; but Liza, in telling Panshin about her jaunt of the day before, had expressed herself to the effect that Lavretzky was a very fine and clever man; that was enough: the "very fine" man must be captivated. Panshin began with compliments to Lavretzky, with descriptions of the raptures with which, according to his statement, Marya Dmitrievna's whole family had expressed themselves about Vasilievskoe, and then, according to his wont, pa.s.sing adroitly to himself, he began to talk about his own occupations, his views of life, of the world, of the government service;--he said a couple of words about the future of Russia, about the proper way of keeping the governors in hand; thereupon, merrily jeered at himself, and added, that, among other things, he had been commissioned in Petersburg--"_de populariser l'idee du cadastre_." He talked for quite a long time, with careless self-confidence solving all difficulties, and juggling with the most weighty administrative and political questions, as a sleight-of-hand performer juggles with his b.a.l.l.s. The expressions: "This is what I would do, if I were the government"; "You, as a clever man, will immediately agree with me"--were never absent from his tongue. Lavretzky listened coldly to Panshin's idle chatter: he did not like this handsome, clever, and unconstrainedly elegant man, with his brilliant smile, courteous voice, and searching eyes. Panshin speedily divined, with the swift comprehension of other people's sentiments which was peculiar to him, that he was not affording his interlocutor any particular pleasure, and made his escape, under a plausible pretext, deciding in his own mind that Lavretzky might be a very fine man, but that he was not sympathetic, was "_aigri_," and, "_en somme_," rather ridiculous.--Marya Dmitrievna made her appearance accompanied by Gedeonovsky; then Marfa Timofeevna entered with Liza; after them followed the other members of the household; then came that lover of music, Mme. Byelenitzyn, a small, thin lady, with an almost childish, fatigued and handsome little face, in a rustling black gown, with a motley-hued fan, and heavy gold bracelets; her husband also came, a rosy-cheeked, plump man, with huge feet and hands, with white eyelashes, and an impa.s.sive smile on his thick lips; in company his wife never spoke to him, but at home, in moments of tenderness, she was wont to call him "her little pig"; Panshin returned: the rooms became very full of people and very noisy. Such a throng of people was not to Lavretzky's liking; Mme. Byelenitzyn particularly enraged him by constantly staring at him through her lorgnette. He would have withdrawn at once, had it not been for Liza: he wished to say two words to her in private, but for a long time he was not able to seize a convenient moment, and contented himself with watching her in secret joy; never had her face seemed to him more n.o.ble and charming. She appeared to great advantage from the proximity of Mme. Byelenitzyn. The latter was incessantly fidgeting about on her chair, shrugging her narrow little shoulders, laughing, in an enervated way, and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up her eyes, then suddenly opening them very wide. Liza sat quietly, her gaze was direct, and she did not laugh at all.

The hostess sat down to play cards with Marfa Timofeevna, Mme.

Byelenitzyn, and Gedeonovsky, who played very slowly, was constantly making mistakes, blinking his eyes, and mopping his face with his handkerchief. Panshin a.s.sumed a melancholy mien, expressed himself with brevity, with great significance and mournfulness,--for all the world like an artist who has not had his say,--but despite the entreaties of Mme.

Byelenitzyn, who was having a violent flirtation with him, he would not consent to sing his romance: Lavretzky embarra.s.sed him. Feodor Ivanitch also said little; the peculiar expression of his face had startled Liza, as soon as he entered the room: she immediately felt that he had something to communicate to her, but, without herself knowing why, she was afraid to interrogate him. At last, as she pa.s.sed into the hall to pour tea, she involuntarily turned her head in his direction. He immediately followed her.

"What is the matter with you?"--she said, as she placed the teapot on the samovar.

"Have you noticed it?"

"You are not the same to-day as I have seen you heretofore."

Lavretzky bent over the table.

"I wanted,"--he began,--"to tell you a certain piece of news, but now it is not possible.--However, read what is marked with pencil in this feuilleton,"--he added, giving her the copy of the newspaper which he had brought with him.--"I beg that you will keep this secret; I will call on you to-morrow morning."

Liza was surprised.... Panshin made his appearance on the threshold of the door: she put the newspaper in her pocket.

"Have you read Obermann, Lizaveta Mikhailovna?"--Panshin asked her meditatively.

Liza gave him a superficial answer, left the hall, and went up-stairs.

Lavretzky returned to the drawing-room, and approached the card-table.

Marfa Timofeevna, with her cap-ribbons untied, and red in the face, began to complain to him about her partner, Gedeonovsky, who, according to her, did not know how to lead.

"Evidently,"--she said,--"playing cards is quite a different thing from inventing fibs."

Her partner continued to blink and mop his face. Liza entered the drawing-room, and seated herself in a corner; Lavretzky looked at her, she looked at him,--and something like dread fell upon them both. He read surprise and a sort of secret reproach in her face. Long as he might to talk to her, he could not do it; to remain in the same room with her, a guest among strangers, was painful to him: he decided to go away. As he took leave of her, he managed to repeat that he would come on the morrow, and he added that he trusted in her friendship.

"Come,"--she replied, with the same amazement on her face.

Panshin brightened up after Lavretzky's departure; he began to give advice to Gedeonovsky, banteringly paid court to Mme. Byelenitzyn, and, at last, sang his romance. But he talked with Liza and gazed at her as before: significantly and rather sadly.

And again, Lavretzky did not sleep all night long. He did not feel sad, he was not excited, he had grown altogether calm; but he could not sleep.

He did not even recall the past; he simply gazed at his life: his heart beat strongly and evenly, the hours flew past, but he did not even think of sleeping. At times, only, did the thought come to the surface in his mind: "But that is not true, it is all nonsense,"--and he paused, lowered his head, and began again to gaze at his life.

[11] A combination of music-room, ball-room, play-room, also used for all sorts of purposes, in all well-to-do Russian houses.--Translator.

XXIX

Marya Dmitrievna did not receive Lavretzky with any excess of cordiality, when he presented himself on the following day. "Well, you are making yourself pretty free of the house,"--she said to herself.

Personally, he did not greatly please her, and, in addition, Panshin, under whose influence she was, had sung his praises in a very sly and careless manner on the preceding evening. As she did not look upon him in the light of a guest, and did not consider it necessary to trouble herself about a relative almost a member of the family, half an hour had not elapsed before he was strolling down an alley in the garden with Liza. Lyenotchka and Schurotchka were frolicking a short distance away, among the flower-beds.

Liza was composed, as usual, but paler than usual. She took from her pocket and handed to Lavretzky the sheet of newspaper, folded small.

"This is dreadful!"--said she.

Lavretzky made no reply.

"But perhaps it is not yet true,"--added Liza.

"That is why I asked you not to mention it to any one."

Liza walked on a little way.

"Tell me,"--she began:--"you are not grieved? Not in the least?"

"I do not know myself what my feelings are,"--replied Lavretzky.

"But, a.s.suredly, you used to love her?"

"Yes, I did."

"Very much?"

"Very much."

"And you are not grieved by her death?"

"It is not now that she has died to me."

"What you say is sinful.... Do not be angry with me. You call me your friend: a friend may say anything. To tell the truth, I feel terrified.... Your face was so malign yesterday.... Do you remember, how you were complaining of her, not long ago?--and perhaps, already, at that very time, she was no longer alive. This is terrible. It is exactly as though it had been sent to you as a chastis.e.m.e.nt."

Lavretzky laughed bitterly.

"Do you think so?... At all events, I am free now."

Liza gave a slight start.

"Stop, do not talk like that. Of what use to you is your freedom? You must not think about that now, but about forgiveness...."

"I forgave her long ago,"--interrupted Lavretzky, with a wave of the hand.

"No, not that,"--returned Liza, and blushed. "You did not understand me rightly. You must take means to obtain forgiveness...."