"Say to her, my good fellow, that I cannot at present ..." began Feodor Ivanitch.

"She ordered me to entreat you urgently,"--went on the lackey:--"she ordered me to say, that she is at home."

"But have the visitors gone?"--asked Lavretzky.

"Yes, sir,"--returned the lackey, and grinned.

Lavretzky shrugged his shoulders, and followed him.

XLIII

Marya Dmitrievna was sitting alone, in her boudoir, in a sofa-chair, and sniffing eau de Cologne; a gla.s.s of orange-flower water was standing beside her, on a small table. She was excited, and seemed to be timorous.

Lavretzky entered.

"You wished to see me,"--he said, saluting her coldly.

"Yes,"--returned Marya Dmitrievna, and drank a little of the water. "I heard that you went straight up-stairs to aunty; I gave orders that you should be requested to come to me: I must have a talk with you. Sit down, if you please."--Marya Dmitrievna took breath.--"You know,"--she went on:--"that your wife has arrived?"

"That fact is known to me,"--said Lavretzky.

"Well, yes,--that is, I meant to say, she came to me, and I received her; that is what I wish to have an explanation about with you now, Feodor Ivanitch. I, thank G.o.d, have won universal respect, I may say, and I would not do anything improper for all the world. Although I foresaw that it would be disagreeable to you, still, I could not make up my mind to refuse her, Feodor Ivanitch; she is my relative--through you: put yourself in my place--what right had I to turn her out of my house?--You agree with me?"

"There is no necessity for your agitating yourself, Marya Dmitrievna,"--returned Lavretzky: "you have behaved very well indeed; I am not in the least angry. I have not the slightest intention of depriving Varvara Pavlovna of the right to see her acquaintances; I only refrained from entering your apartments to-day because I wished to avoid meeting her,--that was all."

"Akh, how delighted I am to hear that from you, Feodor Ivanitch,"--exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna:--"however, I always expected this from your n.o.ble sentiments. But that I should feel agitated, is not wonderful: I am a woman and a mother. And your wife ... of course, I cannot judge between her and you--I told her so myself; but she is such an amiable lady, that she cannot cause anything but pleasure."

Lavretzky laughed, and played with his hat.

"And this is what I wished to say to you, Feodor Ivanitch,"--went on Marya Dmitrievna, moving a little nearer to him:--"if you had only seen how modestly, how respectfully she behaves!--Really, it is touching. But if you had heard how she speaks of you! 'I am wholly culpable with regard to him,' she says; 'I did not know how to appreciate him,' she says; 'he is an angel,' she says, 'not a man.' Truly, she did say that, 'an angel.'

She is so penitent.... I never beheld such penitence, I give you my word!"

"Well, Marya Dmitrievna,"--said Lavretzky:--"permit me to ask you a question: I am told that Varvara Pavlovna has been singing for you; did she sing during her repentance--or how?"...

"Akh, aren't you ashamed to talk like that! She sang and played merely with the object of giving me pleasure, because I begged, almost commanded her to do so. I perceive that she is distressed--so distressed, I wonder how I can divert her. And I had heard that she had such a fine talent.--Upon my word, Feodor Ivanitch, she is a completely crushed, overwhelmed woman--ask Sergyei Petrovitch if she is not, _tout a fait_,--what have you to say to that?"

Lavretzky simply shrugged his shoulders.

"And then, what a little angel that Ada of your is, what a darling!--How pretty she is, how clever! how well she talks French; and she understands Russian--she called me _tyotenka_ [aunty]. And do you know, as for being shy, like nearly all children of her age,--there is no shyness about her.

She is awfully like you, Feodor Ivanitch. Her eyes, her brows ... well, she's you all over again, your perfect image. I am not very fond of such small children, I must confess; but I have simply lost my heart to your little daughter."

"Marya Dmitrievna,"--exclaimed Lavretzky, suddenly:--"allow me to ask you why you are pleased to say all this to me?"

"Why?"--again Marya Dmitrievna sniffed at her eau de Cologne, and sipped her water:--"I say it, Feodor Ivanitch, because ... you see, I am a relative, I take the closest interest in you.... I know that you have the very kindest of hearts. Hearken to me, _mon cousin_,--I am a woman of experience, and I am not talking at random: forgive, forgive your wife."--Marya Dmitrievna's eyes suddenly filled with tears.--"Reflect: youth, inexperience ... well, perhaps, a bad example--she had not the sort of a mother who might have put her on the right road. Forgive her, Feodor Ivanitch; she has been sufficiently punished."

Tears trickled down Marya Dmitrievna's cheeks; she did not wipe them away: she loved to weep. Lavretzky sat as on hot coals. "My G.o.d,"--he thought,--"what sort of torture, what sort of a day has fallen to my lot!"

"You do not answer,"--began Marya Dmitrievna again:--"what am I to understand by that?--is it possible that you can be so cruel? No, I will not believe that. I feel that my words have convinced you. Feodor Ivanitch, G.o.d will reward you for your kindness of heart, and you will now receive your wife from my hands...."

Lavretzky involuntarily rose from his chair; Marya Dmitrievna also rose, and stepping briskly behind a screen, led forth Varvara Pavlovna.

Pale, half-fainting, with eyes cast down, she seemed to have renounced every thought, every impulse of her own--to have placed herself wholly in the hands of Marya Dmitrievna.

Lavretzky retreated a pace.

"You were here?"--he exclaimed.

"Do not blame her,"--said Marya Dmitrievna, hastily;--"she did not wish to remain on any account whatever, but I ordered her to stay, and placed her there behind the screen. She a.s.sured me that it would only make you more angry; but I would not listen to her; I know you better than she does. Receive your wife from my hands; go, Varya, be not afraid, fall at your husband's feet" (she tugged at her hand)--"and my blessing on you!..."

"Wait, Marya Dmitrievna,"--Lavretzky interrupted her, in a dull, but quivering voice:--"you are, probably, fond of sentimental scenes,"

(Lavretzky was not mistaken: Marya Dmitrievna had retained from her boarding-school days a pa.s.sion for a certain theatricalness); "they amuse you; but others suffer from them. However, I will not discuss the matter with you; in _this_ scene you are not the princ.i.p.al actor. What do _you_ want of me, madam?"--he added, addressing his wife. "Have not I done for you all that I could? Do not retort, that you have not plotted this meeting; I shall not believe you,--and you know that I cannot believe you. What, then, do you want? You are clever,--you never do anything without an object. You must understand that I am not capable of living with you as I used to live; not because I am angry with you, but because I have become a different man. I told you that on the day after your return, and you yourself, at that moment, acquiesced with me in your own soul. But you wish to reinstate yourself in public opinion; it is not enough for you to live in my house, you want to live under one roof with me,--is not that the truth?"

"I want you to forgive me,"--said Varvara Pavlovna, without raising her eyes.

"She wants you to forgive her,"--repeated Marya Dmitrievna.

"And not for my own sake, but for Ada's,"--whispered Varvara Pavlovna.

"Not for her sake, but for Ada's,"--repeated Marya Dmitrievna.

"Very good. You wish that?"--e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lavretzky, with an effort. "As you like, I agree to that."

Varvara Pavlovna cast a swift glance at him, and Marya Dmitrievna cried out:--"Well, G.o.d be praised"--and again tugged at Varvara Pavlovna's hand. "Now receive from me...."

"Wait, I tell you,"--Lavretzky interrupted her. "I consent to live with you, Varvara Pavlovna,"--he continued:--"That is to say, I will take you to Lavriki, and I will live with you as long as my strength holds out, and then I shall go away,--and return now and then. You see, I do not wish to deceive you; but do not demand anything more. You yourself would smile, were I to comply with the desire of your respected relative, and press you to my heart, and a.s.sure you that ... there had been no past, that the felled tree could burst into blossom once more. But I perceive that I must submit. You will not understand that word; ... it matters not. I repeat, I will live with you ... or, no, I cannot promise that ... I will join you, I will regard you again as my wife...."

"But give her your hand on that, at least,"--said Marya Dmitrievna, whose tears were long since dried up.

"Up to the present moment, I have not deceived Varvara Pavlovna,"--returned Lavretzky;--"she will believe me as it is. I will take her to Lavriki;--and recollect, Varvara Pavlovna: our compact will be regarded as broken just as soon as you leave that place. And now, permit me to withdraw."

He bowed to both ladies, and hastily quitted the room.

"You are not taking her with you,"--called Marya Dmitrievna after him.... "Let him alone,"--Varvara Pavlovna whispered to her, and immediately threw her arms round her, began to utter thanks, to kiss her hands, and to call her her saviour.

Marya Dmitrievna accepted her caresses with condescension; but in her secret soul she was pleased neither with Lavretzky nor with Varvara Pavlovna, nor with the whole scene which she had planned. There had turned out to be very little sentimentality; Varvara Pavlovna, in her opinion, should have flung herself at her husband's feet.

"How was it that you did not understand me?"--she commented:--"why, I told you: 'fall at his feet.'"

"It was better thus, dear aunty; do not disturb yourself--everything is all right,"--insisted Varvara Pavlovna.

"Well, and he is as cold as ice,"--remarked Marya Dmitrievna. "Even if you did not weep, why, I fairly overflowed before him. He means to shut you up in Lavriki. The idea,--and you cannot even come to see me! All men are unfeeling,"--she said, in conclusion, and shook her head significantly.

"On the other hand, women know how to value kindness and magnanimity,"--said Varvara Pavlovna, and softly dropping on her knees before Marya Dmitrievna, she embraced the latter's corpulent form with her arms, and pressed her face against her. That face wore a quiet smile, but Marya Dmitrievna's tears were flowing again.

And Lavretzky went home, locked himself up in his valet's room, flung himself on the divan, and lay there until the morning.