CHAPTER XVI

Not only Raisky, but Tatiana Markovna gave up her att.i.tude of acquiescence, and secretly began to watch Vera narrowly. Tatiana Markovna became thoughtful, she even neglected the affairs of the house and farm, left the keys lying on the table, did not speak to Savili, kept no accounts, and did not drive out into the fields. She grew melancholy as she sought in vain how she might seek from Vera a frank avowal, or find means to avert misfortune.

Vera in love, in an ecstasy! It seemed to her more than small-pox or measles, worse even than brain fever. And with whom was she in love? G.o.d grant that it were Ivan Ivanovich. If Vera were married to him, she herself would die in peace. But her feminine instinct told her that whatever deep affection the Forester cherished for Vera, it was reciprocated by nothing more than friendship.

Who then was the man? Of the neighbouring landowners there was only Tushin whom she saw and knew anything of. The young men in the town, the officers and councillors, had long since given up any hope of being received into her favour.

She looked keenly and suspiciously at Vera when she came to dinner or tea, and tried to follow her into the garden, but as soon as Vera was aware of her aunt's presence she quickened her steps and vanished into the distance.

"Spirited away like a ghost!" said Tatiana Markovna to Raisky. "I wanted to follow her, but where, with my old limbs? She flits like a bird into the woods, into the bushes, over the precipice."

Raisky went immediately into the park, where he met Yakob, and asked him if he had seen the young lady.

"I saw Vera Va.s.silievna just now by the chapel."

"What was she doing there?"

"Praying."

Raisky went to the chapel, wondering to himself how she had come to take refuge in prayer. On the left there lay in the meadow between the park and the road, a lonely, weather-beaten, half-ruined wooden chapel, adorned with a picture of the Christ, a Byzantine painting in a bronze frame. The ikon had grown dark with age, the paint had been cracked in many places, so that the Christ face was hardly recognisable, but the eyelids were still plainly discernible, and the eyes looked out dreamily on the worshippers; the folded hands were also preserved.

Raisky advanced noiselessly over the gra.s.s. Vera was standing with her back to him, her face turned towards the ikon, unconscious of his approach. On the gra.s.s by the chapel lay her straw hat and sunshade. Her hands did not make the sign of the Cross, her lips uttered no prayers, her whole body appeared motionless, as if she hardly breathed; her whole being was at prayer.

Involuntarily Raisky too held his breath. Is she begging for happiness, or is she confiding her sorrow to the Crucified?

Suddenly she awoke from her prayer, turned and started when she caught sight of Raisky.

"What are you doing here?" she said severely.

"Yakob met me and said you were here; so I came. Grandmother...."

"Since you mention Grandmother, I will point out that she has been watching me for some time. Do you know the reason?" she asked, looking straight into his eyes.

"I think she always does."

"No, it was not her idea to watch me. Tell me without concealing anything, have you communicated to her your suppositions about love and a letter written on blue paper?"

"I think not of the letter."

"Then of love. I must know what you said?"

"We were speaking of you. Grandmother has her own questionings as to why you are so serious one moment and so gay the next. I said (it is a long time ago) that perhaps you were in love."

"And Grandmother?"

"She was terrified."

"Why?"

"Chiefly because of your evident excitement."

"Grandmother's peace of mind is dear to me; dearer, perhaps, than you think."

"She told me herself that she believed in your boundless love for her."

"Thank G.o.d! I am grateful to you for repeating this to me. Go to Grandmother and destroy this curiosity of hers about my being in love, in ecstasy. It cannot be difficult for you, and you will fulfil my wishes if you love me."

"What would I not do to prove it to you. Later in the evening...."

"No, this minute. When I come to dinner her eyes are to look on me as before, do you understand?"

"Well, I will go!" promised Raisky, but did not stir.

"Make haste!"

"And you?"

For answer she pointed in the direction of the house.

"One word more," she said, detaining him. "You must never, never talk about me to Grandmother, do you understand?"

"Agreed, sister."

She motioned him to be gone, and when turning into an avenue he looked round for a moment, she had vanished. She had, as Grandmother said, disappeared like a ghost. A moment later there was the report of a gun from the precipice. Raisky wondered who was playing tricks there, and went towards the house.

Vera appeared punctually at the midday meal. Keenly as he looked at her, Raisky could observe no change in her. Tatiana Markovna glanced at him once or twice in inquiry, but was visibly rea.s.sured when she saw no signs of anything unusual. Raisky had executed Vera's commission, and had alleviated her acutest anxiety, but it was impossible to rea.s.sure her completely.

Tatiana Markovna was saddened and wounded by the lack of confidence shown her by Vera, her niece, her daughter, her dearest child, entrusted to her care by her mother. Terror overcame her. She lay awake anxiously through the night, she questioned Marina, sent Marfinka to find out what Vera was doing, but without result. Suddenly there occurred to her what seemed to her a good plan; as she put it to Raisky, she would make use of allegory. She remembered that she possessed a moral tale which she had read and wept over in her own youth. Its theme was the disastrous consequences which followed on pa.s.sion and disobedience to parents. A young man and a girl loved one another, and met against the will of their parents. She stood on the balcony beckoning and talking to him, and they wrote one another long epistles. Others intervened, the young girl lost her reputation, and the young man was sent to some vague place in America by his father.

Like many others Tatiana Markovna pinned her faith to the printed word, especially when the reading was of an edifying character. So she took her talisman from the shelf, where it lay hidden under a pile of rubbish, and laid it on the table near her work basket. At dinner she declared to the two sisters her desire that they should read aloud to her on alternate evenings, especially in bad weather, since she could not read very much on account of her eyes. Generally speaking, she was not an enthusiastic reader, and only liked to listen when Tiet Nikonich read aloud to her on agricultural matters or hygiene, or about distressing occurrences of murder or arson.

Vera said nothing, but Marfinka asked immediately whether the book had a happy ending.

"What sort of book is it?" inquired Raisky, picking up the book and glancing at a page here and there. "What old rubbish have you discovered, Grandmother. I expect you read it when you were in love with Tiet Nikonich."

"Don't be foolish, Boris Pavlovich. You are not asked to read."

Raisky took his departure, and the room was left to the reading party.

Vera was unendurably bored, but she never refused a.s.sent to any definitely expressed wish of her aunt's. At last, after three or four evenings, the point was reached where the lovers exchanged their vows.

The tale was faultlessly moral and horribly dull. Vera hardly listened.

At each word of love her aunt looked at her to see whether she was touched, whether she blushed or turned pale, but Vera merely yawned.

On the last evening when only a few chapters were left, Raisky stayed in the room when the table was cleared and the reading began. Vikentev, too, was present. He could not sit quiet, but jumped up from time to time, ran to Marfinka, and begged to be allowed to take his share in the reading. When they gave him the book he inserted long tirades of his own in the novel, or read with a different voice suited to each character.

He made the heroine lisp in a mournful whisper, the hero speak with his own natural voice, so that Marfinka blushed and looked angrily at him, and the stern father spoke with the voice of Niel Andreevich. At last Tatiana Markovna took the book from him with an intimation to him to behave reasonably, whereupon he continued his studies in character-mimicry for Marfinka's benefit behind her back. When Marfinka betrayed him he was requested to go into the garden until supper time and the reading went on without him. The catastrophe of the tale approached at last, and when the last word was read and the book shut there was silence.

"What stupid nonsense," said Raisky at length, and Marfinka wiped away a tear.