A Russian Gentleman

ot. At sunrise my grandfather awoke. It was hot in his bedroom; for the room was not large, and, though the window with its narrow old-fashioned sash was raised as high as i

ceal the fact that I like the shrill high note and even the bite of the mosquito; for it reminds me of sleepless nights in high summer on the banks of the Boogoorooslan, where the bushes grew thick and green

smiled again. You could never be sure about Stepan Mihailovitch. It might have been expected that such forcible language would have been followed up by a blow in the ribs from the blackthorn staff which always stood by his bed, or a kick, or even a salutation in the form of a stool. But no: my grandfather had laughed on opening his eyes, and he

violence. My grandmother got more than one beating over the coarse linen, but she continued to supply him with it till at last her husband got used to it. He resorted once to extreme measures: he took an axe and chopped up all his objectionable shirts on the threshold of his room, while my grandm

atisfaction on crab-shells and other refuse from the table which that unsophisticated household deposited close to the steps. Cows and sheep also looked in, and it was inevitable that these visitors should leave uncleanly tokens behind them. But to this my grandfather did not object in the least. On the contrary, he looked with pleasure at the fine beasts, taking them as a certain indication that his peasants were doing well. The loud cracking of the herdsman's long whip soon evicted the trespassers. Now the servants began to stir. The stout groom, Spiridon-known even in advanced old age as "little Spirka"-led out, one after another, three colts, two bays and one brown. He tied them to a post, rubbed them down, and exercised them at the end of a long halter, while my grandfather admired their paces and also admired in fancy the stock he hoped to raise from them-a dream which he realised

s wife affectionately and called her "Arisha"; he never kissed her hand, but sometimes gave her his to kiss as a sign of favour. Arina Vassilyevna, in her pleasure, looked quite young and pretty; one forgot her stout awkward figure. She brought a stool at once and sat down on the stoop beside my grandfather, which she never ventured to do unless he was in a very good humour. "Come, Arisha, let us have a cup of tea together before it gets hot," said Stepan Mihailovitch; "it was a stifling night, but I slept so sound that I have forgotten all my dreams. How did you sleep?" This question was a signal mark of favour, and my grandmother replied at once that, when Stepan Mihailovitch had a good night, she of course had one too, but that Tanyusha17 was restless all night. Tanyusha was the youngest daughter and, as often happens, her father's favourite. He was vexed to hear this account of her, and ordered that she was not to be called but to sleep on till she woke. She had been called at the same time as her sisters Alexandra and Elizabeth, and was dressed already; but no one ventured to mention this fact. She made haste to undress, got back into bed, and had the shutters drawn. She could not get to sleep, but she lay in the dark for two hours; and her father was pleased that Tanyusha had

had bare feet and nothing on but his shirt, with a red woollen belt, from which hung a key and a copper comb. On a similar occasion on the previous day, he had worn no hat; but this had been disapproved of, and he now wore some head-gear which he had woven out of broad strips of bast.19 My grandfather made merry over this "sunbonnet." Then he put on his own cap and long coat of unbleached home-made cloth, pla

sting the goodness of the work: any spot of ground that had not been properly ploughed and harrowed gave the light car a jolt; and, when my grandfather was not in a good humour, he stuck a twig or a stick in the ground at the place, sent for the bailiff if he was not present, and settled accounts with him on the spot. But to-day all went well: his wheels may have encountered such obstacles, but he took no notice of them. His next point was the hay-fields, where he admired the tall thick steppe-grass which

, without visiting his own room. I should mention that my grandfather had a rule: at whatever hour, early or late, he returned from the fields, dinner must be on the table, and Heaven help the women, if they did not notice him coming and failed to serve the meal in time! There were occasions when such neglect gave rise to sad consequences; but, on this happy day, everything went without a hitch. Behind my grandfather's chair stood a stout lad, holding a birch-bough with the leaves on, to drive away the flies. The hottest weather will not make a true Russian refuse cabbage-soup, and my grandfather supped his with a wooden spoon, because silver would have burnt hi

ather's dressing-gown and nightcap were lying on a chair near the half-open door of his room. Tanaichonok put them on and sat down on the stoop, while Mazan went off to the cellar with a jug and wakened the old housekeeper, who like every soul in the house was fast asleep. He said his master was awake and wanted an iced tankard at once. She was surprised at his waking so soon; but Mazan then pointed to the figure in the dressing-gown and nightcap sitting on the stoop. The beer was drawn at once and ice added; and Mazan went quickly back with his prize. The cronies shared the jug between them and then replaced the garments. An hour later their master awoke in excellent humour, and his first words were, "Iced beer!" This frightened the rascals; and, when Tanaichonok hurried off to the cellar, the housekeep

the bedding and pillows. He thought he would like a little taste of luxury; so down he lay on his master's bed and fell asleep. My grandfather himself came upon him sound asleep, and only laughed! He did, indeed, give the man one good rap with his staff; but that was nothing-he only did it in order to see how frightened Mazan would be. Worse tricks than these were played upon Stepan Mihailovitch in his time. During his absence from home, his cousin and ward, Prask

the curd on it was yellow, my grandfather proposed that the whole party should make an expedition to the mill. The plan was received with joy; and Alexandra and Tatyana, who were fond of angling, took fishing-rods with them. Two cars were brought round in a minute. Stepan Mihailovitch and his wife took their seats on one, and placed between them their one boy,21 the precious scion of their ancient and noble line; while the other carried the three daughters, with a boy to dig for worms on the mill-dam and bait their hooks for the young ladies. When they reache

e worn." "A little you call it!"-said my grandfather, not at all vexed: "but for my coming, the wheel would have snapped this very night!" "I am sorry I did not notice it, Stepan Mihailovitch." "Well, never mind! Bring a new wheel, and take the worn cog off the other; and mind the new cog is neither thicker nor thinner than the rest; the whole secret lies in that." The new wheel, fitted and tested beforehand, was fixed at once and greased with tar; and the current was turned on by degrees, also by my grandfather's instructions; at once the stone began to hum and grind smoothly and evenly, with no stumbling or knocking. The visitors went next to the pounding-machine, where my grandfather took a handful of millet from the mortar. He blew the chaff away and said to the man who had brought the grain to the mill, a Mordvinian and an old acquaintance: "Have a care,

ttle brother in the other. As Stepan Mihailovitch had expected, the bailiff was waiting for him by the stoop, and some peasants and their wives were there with him; they had got a hint from the bailiff, who knew already that his master was in the right mood, and now seized the opportunity to state some exceptional needs or prefer some exceptional requests. Not one of them was disappointed. To one my grandfather gave corn, and forgave an old debt which the man could have paid; another was allowed to marry his son before the winter24 and to a girl of their own choosing; he gave leave to a soldier's wife,25 who was to be turned out of the village for misconduct, to go on living with her father; and so on. Nor was that all: strong home-made spirits were offered to each of them, in a silver cup which held more than a

heaven grew darker; hour by hour, the stars flashed brighter, and the cries of the night birds grew louder, as if they were becoming more familiar with man; the clack of the mill sounded nearer in the misty damp of the night air.

IHAIL MAXIMOVI

andfather's cousin, Praskovya Ivanovna Bagroff. This story begins about 1760, earlier than the time

d at first with her grandmother, Mme. Baktéyeff; then she paid a long visit to Bagrovo; and finally Stepan Mihailovitch took her to his house as a permanent inmate. He was quite as fond of his orphan cousin as of his daughters and was very affectionate to her in his own way. But she was too young, too babyish, one might say, to appreciate her cousin's love and tenderness, which never took the form of spoiling, while, under her grandmother's roof, where she had spent some time, she had grown accustomed to indulgence. So it is not surprising that she grew tired of Bagrovo and wished to go back to old Mme. Baktéyeff. Praskovya Ivanovna, though she was not beautiful, had regular features and fine

o have heard as a child debates on this point between my grandmother and her daughters. Entering the Army at fifteen, he had served in a regiment of high reputation in those days and had risen to the rank of major. He did not often come home on leave, and he had little reason to come, because the serfs-about 150 in all-who formed his property, owned little land and were scattered about. As a matter of course

cousin, Mihail

d

for you and my worthy c

e honour t

e proverbs-"A young man must sow his wild oats," and "It's no crime in a man to drink," and "The man who drinks and keeps his head, Scores two points, it must be said." So Kurolyessoff had not a positively bad reputation; on the contrary many people thought highly of him. Insinuating and courteous in his address, and respectful to all persons of rank and position, he was a welcome guest in every house. As he was a near neighbour of the Baktéyeff family, and indeed a distant connexion, he soon managed to make his way into their good graces; they took a great liking to him and sounded his praises everywhere. At first he had no special object, but was merely following his invariable rule-to make himself agreeable to persons of rank and wealth; but later, when he met in their house Praskovya Ivanovna, lively, laughing, and rich, and looking quite old enough to be married, he formed a plan of marrying her himself and getting her wealth into his hands. With this definite object in view, he redoubled his attentions to her grandmother

at there was some knavery underneath. There were other objections. My grandfather's own life was very strict, and the reports of the Major's peccadilloes which had casually come to his ear, though many people treated them lightly enough, filled his honest breast with disgust; and, though he was himself capable of furious anger, he hated deliberate unkindness and cold cruelty. For all these reasons his reception of his guest was cool and dry, though Kurolyessoff talked in a sensible practical way on all subjects and especially the management of land. Praskovya Ivanovna had now come to live with my grandfather; and, when the Major began, on the strength of their old acquaintance, to pay her compliments which she accepted with pleasure, his host's head bent a little to one side, his eyebrows met, and he shot a look at his guest which was hardly hospitable. Arina Vassilyevna, on the contrary, and her daughters, had been

an end. Then he proposed a desperate scheme-to induce Praskovya Ivanovna to elope with him, and to get married in the nearest church; but her relations would not hear of such a scandalous expedient, and Kurolyessoff went back to his regiment. The ways of Providence are past finding out, and we cannot judge why it came about that this nefarious scheme was crowned with success. Six months later, Mme. Baktéyeff heard one day that Stepan Mihailovitch was called away to some distance by very important business and would not return for some time. His destination and errand I do not know; but it was some distant place, Astrakhan or Moscow, an

asha; she launched out into praise of the suitor, and said, "There is nothing I wish so much as to see the poor little orphan comfortably settled in my lifetime; I am sure she will be happy. I feel that I have not long to live, and therefore I should like to hurry on the business." Arina Vassilyevna, on her side, entirely approved of the plan but expressed doubts whether Stepan Mihailovitch would consent: "Heaven knows why," she said, "but he took a strong dislike to that delightful Kurolyessoff." Arina Vassilyevna's elder daughters were summoned to a council presided over

pecial messenger was despatched to Bagrovo, with a letter from Mme. Kurmysheff to Arina Vassilyevna; the lady wrote that her mother was desperately ill and wished to see her grand-daughter and give her her blessing; she therefore asked that Parasha might be sent, with an escort. She also wrote that Stepan Mihailovitch would certainly have sent the child to see the last of her grandmother, and could not possibly resent this infraction of his commands. The letter was clearly intended to be shown by Arina Vassilyevna, in order to protect herself from her husband's displeasure. True to her promise and reassured by this letter, Arina Vassilyevna made her preparations at once and took Parasha herself to the place where the grandmother was supposed to be dying; she stayed there a week and returned home charmed by the politeness of Kurolyessoff and also by some presents which he had brought from Moscow for her, and for her daughters as well. Praskovya Ivanovna was very happy: her grandmother took a sudden turn for the better; that fairy godmother, the Major, had brought her a number of presents and toys from Moscow and stayed in the house continuously. He flattered her in every possible way, and soon took her fancy so completely, th

ts. Arina Vassilyevna sighed and shed tears over this letter, and was puzzled how to act. The young couple soon came to pay her a visit. Parasha seemed perfectly happy and cheerful, though some of her childish gaiety had gone. Her husband seemed happy too, and at the same time so composed and sensible that his clever arguments had power to lull Arina Vassilyevna's fears to rest. He proved to her convincingly that her husband's wrath must all fall upon the grandmother: "And she," said he, "owing to that dangerous illness-though now, thank God! she is better-had a perfect right not to wait for the consent of Stepan Mihailovitch; she knew that he would be slow in giving it, though of course he must have given it in time. It was impossible for her to delay, owing to her critical condition, and it would have been hard for her to die without seeing her orphan grand-daughter settled in life; her place could not be filled even by a brother, far less by a mere cousin." Many soothing assurances of this kind were forthcomi

twice as hot, when he heard the name of the bridegroom. He was proceeding to settle accounts with his wife on the spot, when she and all her daughters fell at his feet and showed him Mme. Baktéyeff's letter; thus she had time to convince him that she knew nothing about it and had been deceived herself. The fury of Stepan Mihailovitch was now diverted to Mme. Baktéyeff; he ordered fresh horses to be ready, rested two hours, and then galloped straight off to her house. The battle royal that took place between the two may be imagined. The old lady stood his first torrent of unmeasured abuse without flinching; then she drew herself up, grew hot in her turn, and delivered her own attack upon my grandfather. "How dare you make this furious assault on me,"

etending that you were dying! Kurolyessoff has bewitched you and your daughter

is attack very coolly, and showed him with no hesitation the certificate of affinity, the signatures of the grandmother, the bride, and the witnesses, and also the baptismal certificate which alleged that Praskovya Ivanovna was seventeen. This was a fresh blow to my grandfather, for it deprived him of all hope of breaking the hateful marriage; and it increased enormously his anger against his wife and daughters. I shall not dwell upon his behaviour when he got home: it would be too painful and repulsive. Thirty years later, my aunts

husband, to Bagrovo; and, as a matter of course, she came at once. The reports were true: one year of marriage had wrought such a change in Praskovya Ivanovna, that Stepan Mihailovitch could hardly believe it. It was puzzling also, that she now showed towards her cousin a kind of love and gratitude which she had never felt in her girlhood, and was still less likely, one would think, to feel after her marriage. In his eyes, which filled with tears when they met, did she read how much love was concealed under that harsh exterior and that arbitrary violence? Had she any dark foreboding of the future, or did she dimly realise that here was her one support and s

house; he said that her place was now elsewhere, and soon sent her back to her husband. At parting, he said: "If you are as well satisfied with your husband a year hence, and if he behaves as well to you as he does now, I shall be reconciled to him." A year later, as he knew that Kurolyessoff was behaving well and paying the utmost attention to the management of his wife's property, and found his cousin, when he saw her, looking healthy and happy and cheerful, Stepan Mihailovitch told her to bring her husband with her to Bagrovo. He received Kurolyessoff cordially, frankly confessed his former doubts, and ended by promising to treat him as a kinsman and friend, on condition of continued good conduct. The guest behaved very cleverly: he was less furtive and less insinuating than he used to be, but just as respectful, attentive, and t

eadfast perseverance in the execution of his schemes. The property had been mismanaged previously: the land had been injured by neglect, and the peasants brought in very little income, not because there was no market for their grain, but because they were spoilt and lazy, and had too little land; and another difficulty was that some of them belonged to three different owners-Mme. Baktéyeff and her daughter as well as Praskovya Ivanovna. Kurolyessoff began by transferring some of the peasants to new ground, while he sold the old land at a good profit. He bought about 20,000 acres of steppe in the Government of

r to behold. The house was situated on the slope of a hill, from which more than twenty excellent springs came bubbling out. The house and the hill stood in the centre of an orchard, very large and productive, stocked with apple-trees and cherry-trees of every possible sort. The internal arrangements-the service and cooking, the horses and carriages-were luxurious and substantial. There was a constant succession of visitors at Choorassovo, either country neighbours, of whom there were a good many, or people from Simbirsk; they ate and drank, took walks and played cards, sang and talked, and were generally noisy and merry. Kurolyessoff dressed his wife up like a doll, anticipated all her wishes, and entertained her from morning till night, that is, when he happened to be at home. In short, after a few years, he had attained such a position all round, that good people admired him and bad people envied him. Nor did he forget the claims of religion: in place of an old tumbledown wooden erection, he built a new church of stone and equipped it splendidly; he even formed an excellent choir out of the household servants.

thers with drink and terrorised them all. The small landowners and inferior officials went in terror of their lives: if any dared to act or speak against him, they were seized in broad daylight and imprisoned in cellars or corn-kilns, where they were fed on bread and water and suffered the pangs of cold and hunger; and some were unmercifully flogged with an instrument called a "cat." Kurolyessoff had a special fancy for this implement, which was merely a leather whip with seven tails and knots at the end of each tail. They remained for some time after

who felt a strong desire to pay the Major out for his contemptuous treatment of them, by disclosing the truth; but, apart from the fear they could not help feeling, which would probably not have deterred them, there was another obstacle which prevented the fulfilment of their kind intentions. It was simply impossible to bring any tales against her husband to Praskovya Ivanovna. She was clever, keen-sighted, and determined; and, as soon as she detected any hidden innuendo to the detriment of Kurolyessoff, she knitted her dark eyebrows and said in her downright way that any offence of the kind would be punished by perpetual exclusion from her house. As the natural result of such a significant warning, nobody ventured to interfere in what was not their business. There were two servants in the house, a favourite attendant of her late father's and her own old nurse, whom she specially favoured, though they were not admitted to such close intimacy as old servants often were in those days; but they too were powerless. To them it was a matter of life and death that their mistress should know the real truth about her husband; for they had near relations who were personal attendants of Kurolyessoff's and were suffering beyond endurance from their master's cruelty. At last they determined to tell the whole story to their mistress. They chose a time when she was alone, a

organising his wife's estates, he deserved to be called the most far-seeing, practical, and watchful of agents. To all the infinitely various and troublesome business, involved in removing peasants and settling them down in distant holdings, he gave his personal and unremitting attention. He kept constantly in view one object only, the well-being of his dependants. He could spend money where it was needed; he saw that it came to hand at the right time and in the right quantity; he anticipated all the wants and requirements of the set

lingly and boldly. If any man offended Kurolyessoff by the slightest independence in word or action-if, for example, he failed to turn up when invited to one of their drunken revels-the gang set off at once at a sign from their master, seized the culprit either secretly or openly wherever they found him, and brought him back to Parashino, where he was treated with insult and chained up in a cellar underground or flogged by their master's orders. Kurolyessoff was a man of taste: he liked good horses, and he liked good pictures-he thought them good at least-to adorn his walls. If anything of the kind took his fancy in a neighbour's house or in any house where he happened to be, he at once proposed an exchange; in case of a refusal, he would sometimes, if he was in a good humour, offer money; but, if this also was refused, he gave warning that he would take it and give nothing for it. And he did actually turn up with his gang a short time after, pack up whatever he wanted, and carry it off. Complaints were made, and the p

ted; and any one who dared to refuse was first flogged, and then tied to a tree or a post, though it might be raining or freezing at the time. Of more revolting acts of violence I say nothing. One day he was driving in this state of mind through a village, and, as he passed a threshing-floor, noticed a woman of remarkable beauty. "Stop!" he called out. "Petrushka, what do you think of that woman?" "She's uncommonly pretty," said Petrushka. "Would you like to marry her?" "How can I marry another man's wife?" asked Petrushka with a grin on his face. "I'll show you how! Seize her, my lads, and put her in the carriage beside me!" They did so; the woman was taken straight to the pa

had, some time or other, been flogged within an inch of his life, and some of them many times. It is remarkable that, when Kurolyessoff got violently angry, which seldom happened, he did not use violence; but, when he had got hold of a man and intended to torture him for his own amusement, he would say in a quiet and even affectionate tone: "Well, my good friend Grigóri Kuzmitch,"-Grishka28 being his usual name-"it can't be helped; come, and I will settle accounts with you." Thus he would speak to his head-groom, who for some unknown reason was put to the torture more often than others. "Scratch him up a bit with the cat," said the master with a smile, and then the torture went on for hours, while the master drank tea with brandy in it, smoked his pipe, and from time to time passed jests on his victim till unconsciousness supervened. Trustworthy witnesses have assured me that only one expedient proved successful in saving life after such an ordeal: the lacerated body of the victim was wrapped up in sheepskins taken warm from the animals' backs as soon as they were slaughtered. Kurolye

at other seasons she spent her time with her visitors and became a great lover of cards. Suddenly she received, by post or special messenger, a letter from an old lady for whom she had great respect, a distant relation of her husband's. This letter gave a full description of Kurolyessoff's life, and ended in this way, that it would be sinful not to open the eyes of the mistress of a thousand serfs, when they were suffering such monstrous

isure to think over what she was doing. She used to say herself that she had formed no plan of action whatever; she merely wished to see with her own eyes and find out for certain what her husband was doing and how he lived. She did not entirely trust the letter from his kinswoman, who lived at a distance and might have been deceived by false reports; and she did not choose to question her old nurse at Choorassovo. The thought of danger never entered her head: her husband had always been so gentle and res

e her to see Ivan Onufrieff; she had heard that he was still living. She found him in a dying state, lying in a cow-byre in the backyard. He was too weak to tell her anything; but his brother, Alexyéi, a mere lad, who had been flogged only the day before, crawled somehow from his pallet, fell on his knees, and told her what had befallen his brother and himself and others as well. Praskovya Ivanovna's heart swelled with pity and horror. She felt that she also was to blame, and she formed a firm resolve to put an end to the crimes and atrocities of Kurolyessoff. She thought there would be no difficulty. She gave strict orders that her presence should be kept secret. Then, as she heard that the smaller house, which had been built some years before, but, from some caprice of her husband's, never furnished, contained one habitable room unoccupied by the workmen, she went off, intending to pass the remainder of the night there and to speak next morning to her husband when he was sober. But the secret of her arrival was not strictly kept. The report reached the ear of one of the most desperate of Kurolyessoff's gang, and he, moved b

er again, and never to set foot on any of her lands; if he refused, she would petition the Governor of the province, and reveal all his crimes; and his fate would be Siberia and penal servitude. Kurolyessoff was taken by surprise; he foamed at the mouth with rage and anger. "So that is the way you talk to me, my beauty! Then I shall change my tune too!" roared the infuriated ruffian. "You shall not leave Parashino till you sign a document transferring all your estates to me; if you refuse, I shall shut you up in a cellar and starve you to death." Then he caught up a stick from a corner of the room, felled his wife to the floor with his first blows, and went on beating her till she lost her senses. Next he ordered some of his trusted servants to carry their mistress to a stone cellar, which he locked with a huge padlock and put the key in his pocket. He was a formidable figure when he appeared before the assembled household; he had summoned them all, in order to discover the culprit who had led his mistress to the cow-byre; but the man had already sought safety in flight, accompanied by the coachman and manservant who had come from Choorassovo. The fugitives were pursued at once. Kurolyessof

to him at first; but the rumours grew steadily. The womankind at Bagrovo knew of them; and Arina Vassilyevna ventured at last to tell her husband that Kurolyessoff was leading a terribly wicked life. He would not believe it. He said: "Once you believe what people say, you will soon accuse your neighbour of robbing a church! I know what the Baktéyeff servants were like-thieves and shirkers, to a man! And my cousin's serfs too got spoilt, with no master to look after them. It's not surprising if they're terrified of honest work and decent order. Friend Mihail may have gone to work too fast: what of that? they'll learn to bear it. As to his drinking-if he takes a glass after his work, a man's none the worse for that, provided he doesn't neglect his business. There are beastly things a man shouldn't do; but there, I fancy, they're lying. You women are too fond of listening to gossip." For a long time after this, Stepan Mihailovitch heard nothing more of the rumours. At last, some Bagroff serfs, who had been transferred from the Government of Simbirsk to Parashino together with the serfs of the Baktéyeff family, came to visit their relations at New Bagrovo and told terrible stories of their master. Arina Vassilyevna again appealed to her husband, and begged that he would himself question one of these men who was now at Bagrovo; he was an old man with an established character for speaking the truth; and Stepan Miha

they were full of sympathy for their master's passionate despair, and cried with one voice that they would go on foot, if need be, to the rescue of Praskovya Ivanovna. In a short time three cars, drawn by teams of spirited horses from the stables of Bagrovo, and carrying a dozen men chosen for strength and courage, were galloping along the road to Parashino. The party included the fugitives from Parashino, and were armed with guns and swords, pikes and pitchforks. Later in the day two more cars followed to reinforce Stepan Mihailovitch; the men were armed in the same way; the horses were the best the peasants could produce. By the evening of the second day, the vanguard was within seven versts of Parashino. They fed the jaded horses, and in the first light of the summer dawn dashed into the wide courtyard and drove straight up to the cellar. It was close to the rooms occupied by Kurolyessoff. Stepan Mihailovitch jumped out and began to beat his fist against the wooden door of the cellar. A voice faintly asked, "Who is there?" My grandfather r

ners? is it possible that he was unaware of it or absent at the time?" No: the liberation of Praskovya Ivanovna took pl

pan Mihailovitch and the guns pointing straight at the windows. "But where are all our fellows?" asked Kurolyessoff. "Some are asleep, and others are hiding," said the man; but this was not true; for the drunken rabble was mustering near the outside steps. Kurolyessoff thought a moment; then with a gesture of despair h

tout heart and fearless courage of Stepan Mihailovitch, and he knew that he himself was in the wrong; and t

d him not to take vengeance on Kurolyessoff. She said positively that, on reflection, she had decided not to bring shame on her husband, or to stain the name which she must continue to bear throughout her life. She added that she now repented of the words which had burst from her lips at her first interview with Kurolyessoff at Parashino, and that nothing would induce her to make a complaint to the Governor against him. Yet she considered it her duty to rescue her serfs from his cruelty, and therefore intended to cancel the document which gave him authority over her estates. She asked Stepan Mihailovitch to take over the management himself, and also to write to Kurolyessoff demanding the document and stating that, if he refused to give it up, she would take legal steps to cancel it. She asked Stepan Mi

a Ivanovna added her signature, and a special messenger was despatched with it to Parashino. But, while they were considering and wondering and writing at Bagrovo,

r own feelings, they all supposed she would welcome the news, and told her at once. But, to the surprise of every one, she was utterly prostrated by it and became ill again; and, when her strength got the better of the illness, her depression and wretchedness were extreme: for some weeks she wept from m

on she asked: "Please tell me, aunt, why you took on so after your husband's death. In your place, I should have said a prayer for his soul, and felt quite cheerful." "You are a little fool, my dear," answered Praskov

o, in order to attend a memorial service at Kurolyessoff's grave. To the general surprise, she dropped no tear at Parashino or during the sad ceremony; but one may imagine how much this effort

n irruption from Stepan Mihailovitch with the sheriff at his back; but week followed week, and no one came. Kurolyessoff was as drunken and violent as ever: every one of his retainers he flogged till they were half-dead, for having betrayed him, not sparing even the sober man who had wakened him on the night of the rescue; and he boasted that Praskovya Ivanovna had given up to him the title-deeds of her estates. It was past the power of human endurance; and the future seemed hopeless.32 Two of the scoundrels, who had been favourites, and, strangely enough, two who had suffered less than the rest from hi

Praskovya Ivanovna's man of business and the chief agent on all her estates, and enjoyed her full confidence. Under the name of "Mihailushka" he was known to all and sundry in the Governments of Simbirsk and Orenburg. He was a man of remarkable ability; though he made a large fortune, he l

he advantage of many of his arrangements. His cruelty they had forgotten, and they had felt it less than his personal attendants; but they remembered his power of distinguishing guilt and innocence, the honest workman and the shirker; they rememb

thirty-"and rich and used to something different. You should go back to Choorassovo, and enjoy your fine house and splendid garden and the springs. You have plenty of kind neighbours there, rich people who live a gay life. It is possible that God will send you better fortune in a second venture; you won't want for offers." Praskovya Ivanovna put off her departure from day to day-so hard did she find it to part from the cousin who had saved her life and been her benefactor from her childhood. At last the day was fixed. Early on the previous morning, she came out to join Stepan Mihailovitch, who was sitting on his stoop and thinking sad thoughts. She kissed and embraced him; the tears came to her eyes as she said: "I feel all your love for me, and I love and respect you like a daughter. God sees my gratitude; but I wish that men should see it too. Will you

ft Bagrovo and began her own i

HE MARRIAGE OF

rinking to his heart's content, and dressing with no regard to the weather, though he sometimes suffered for this neglect. Little by little, his keen clear eye became clouded and his great voice lost its power; his fits of anger were rarer, but so were his bright and happy moods. His elder daughters had all married, and the oldest had been dead some time, leaving a daughter of three years old. Aksinya,34 the second, had lost one husband and married again; Elizabeth, a clever but arrogant woman, had somehow married a General Yerlykin, who was old and poor and given to drinking; and Alexandra had found herself a husband in Ivan Karatayeff, well-born, young, and rich, but a passionate lover of the Bashkirs and their wandering life-a true Bashkir himself in mind and body. The youngest daughter, Tanyusha, had not married. The only son35 was now twenty-six, a handsome youth with a complexion of lilies

s summer, and the chapel windows were open. Suddenly, a voice in the street outside struck up a popular song. The general rushed to the window: three subalterns were walking along the street, and one of them was singing. He ordered them under arrest and sentenced each of them to 300 lashes. My unfortunate father, who was not singing but merely walking with his friends, pleaded his noble birth; but the general said with a sneer, "A noble is bound to show special respect to divine service"; and then the brute himself looked on till the last stripe was inflicted on the innocent youth. This took place in a room next the chapel, where the solemn singing of the choir could be distinctly heard; and the tyran

parents at Bagrovo, 240 versts away. His life was quite uneventful. Quiet, bashful, and unassuming, this young heir to

he maids' room, wear the coarsest clothes, and carry the slops out of the children's nursery. She kept her oath to the letter: after two or three years, Sonitchka was living with the servants and clothed like a scullion, and she scrubbed and cleaned the nursery which was now inhabited by two half-sisters. But what was the father doing? He had once loved her dearly; but now for whole months he never saw her; and when he did meet her going about in rags, he turned away with a sigh, wiped away a furtive tear, and made off as soon as possible. It is the way of many elderly men who have married again and are dominated by young wives. As I do not know exactly the ways and methods by which Mme. Zubin attained her object, I shall not speak of them; nor shall I dwell upon the cruelties and sufferings inflicted upon the bereaved girl, with her sensitive temper and strong will; nothing was spared her, not even the most humiliating punishments and beatings for imaginary offences. I shall only say, that the stepdaughter was not far from suicide, and was only saved from it by a miracle. It happened thus. When she had decided to put an end to an intolerable existence, the poor child wished to say her last prayer before an image of Our Lady of Smolensk, the image with which her mother on her deathbed had blessed her. She fell on her knees in her garret before the ikon, and, with floods of bitter tears, pressed her face on the dirt-stained floor. Suffering deprived her of consciousness for some minutes; when she recovered and got up, she saw the ca

n developed into a grown woman, a mother to the children, and the manager of the household. She even discharged public duties; for, owing to her father's illness, she received all heads of departments, officials, and private citizens; she discussed matters with them, wrote letters and official documents, and at last became the real manager of the business in her father's office. Sofya Nikolayevna nursed her father with anxious care and tenderness; she looked after her three brothers and two sisters, and even took trouble about the education of the elder children. Her own brothers, Serghéi and Alexander, were now boys of twelve and ten; and she contrived to find teachers for them-a kind old Frenchman called Villemer, whom fortune had somehow stranded at Ufa, and a half-educated Little Russian who had been exiled to the town for an attempted fraud. She availed herself of the opportunity to study with her brothers, and worked so hard that she could soon understand a French book or conversation and e

by the novelty and beauty of the district, invariably made the young lady's acquaintance and left written testimony of their admiration for her beauty and wit. It is true that her position in society and her home helped her, and served, one might say, as a pedestal for the statue; but the statue itself was a noble figure. I remember especially the verses of Count Manteuffel, a traveller; he sent them to Sofya Nikolayevna with a most respectful letter in

es a year, her father insisted on her going out to balls in the houses of the leading people, and she yielded to his earnest entreaties and put in a short appearance at the ball. She wore fine dresses and was an excellent dancer in the fashion of the time. When she had gone through a Polish mi

ion grew steadily. His calls were so regular and so prolonged-though he hardly opened his mouth-that they soon attracted general notice; and it is probable that the first person to notice them was the young hostess herself. Rapturous looks, flaming cheeks, helpless confusion-these are the symbols by which love has always spoken. A frank passion has been an object of ridicule from time immemorial, and all Ufa laughed at Alexyéi Stepanitch. He was humble and shy and as bashful as a country girl; and his only reply to all jests and allusions to the subject was to blush the colour of a peony. But Sofya Nikolayevna, so cold and even snubbing in her manner to her fash

been in love with her, but not one has ever dared to ask the question. You're a handsome lad, certainly, well-born and fairly well-off, and you will be rich in course of time-everybody knows that; but then you're a plain country fellow, no scholar or man of the world, and you're terribly bashful in society." Alexyéi Stepanitch was aware of all this himself; but love had entirely confused his brain, and a voice whispered in his ear day and night that Sofya Nikolayevna would accept him. Though the young man's hopes seemed to her unfounded, Mme. Alakayeff consented to go to Sofya Nikolayevna's house, where, without making any allusion to his wishes, she would turn the conversation on to him and take note of all that was said. She started at once, and Alexyéi Stepanitch remained in the house till she should come back. She was absent for some time, and the lover became so distressed and despondent that he began to cry and then fell asleep, tired out, with his head leaning against the window. When the old lady came back, she wakened him and said with a cheerful air: "Well, Alexyéi Stepanitch, there is really something in it! When I began to speak about you, and was rather hard upon you, Sofya Nikolayevna took up the cudgels in earnest on your behalf, and ended by saying that she was sure you were very kind and modest and gentle, and respectful

glad to see him, but they were puzzled by the time of his visit and looked at him inquiringly. His sisters-who lived near Bagrovo and came there in hot haste on a summons from their mother-kissed their brother and made much of him, but kept on smiling for some reason. The youngest sister, Tatyana, was his favourite, an

pt, of course, her father, round her little finger. She set one of her brother's servants to spy on his master, and made him report to her every detail concerning his love-affair and his life at Ufa; and she found a female friend in the town, who first rummaged and ferreted abou

r own feather; but Sofya Nikolayevna was worse than anything they could imagine. Alexandra summoned her sister Elizabeth and hurried to Bagrovo, to communicate to her mother and sisters-of course, with suitable embellishments-all the information she had received of her brother's goings on. They believed every word she said, and their opinion of Sofya Nikolayevna was to the following effect. In the first place, the Zubin girl-this was her regular name in the secret meetings of the family council-was of mean birth: her grandfather had been a Ural Cossack, and her mother, Vyera Ivanovna Kandalintsoff, had belonged to the merchant class; the alliance was therefore a degradation to an ancient and noble family. In the second place, the Zubin girl was a mere pauper: if her father died or was dismissed from his post, she would depend on charity for her bread, and all her brothers and sisters would be a stone round her husband's neck. Thirdly, the Zubin girl was proud and fashionable, a crafty adventuress who was accustomed to lord it over the town of Ufa; and she would turn up her nose with no ceremony at plain people living in the country, however long th

anitch; she was, of course, to represent Sofya Nikolayevna in the most unfavourable light. Alexandra spent a long time coaching this lady in what she was to say and how she was to say it. When she had learnt it as well as she could, Mme. Lupenevsky turned up at Bagrovo and had dinner there; after dinner, hosts and guests slept for three hours and then assembl

and, if I don't laugh at it, it's because I'm bored by your stories." "O uncle, uncle," she began, "you're quite in the dark about my dear cousin, Alexyéi Stepanitch. He's a perfect wreck: the witch of Ufa, the daughter of a great man there, Governor or Commander-in-Chief, I don't know which, has used devilish arts to fascinate him. She's a perfect beauty, they say, and has captivated all the men, young and old; she has bewitched them with magic herbs, and they all run after her. And my poor cousin, Alexyéi Stepanitch, is so bad that he can neither eat nor drink nor sleep. He's constantly sitting beside her, he can't take his eyes off her, he just looks and sighs; and at night he's always walking past her house, carrying a gun and a sword and keeping guard over her. They say that the Zubin girl is very sweet upon him; of course he's handsome and

when Arina Vassilyevna and her daughters were about to take a silent farewell of Stepan Mihailovitch, he stopped them and said: "Well, Arisha, what do you think about it? Though that stupid Flona added plenty of lies, yet it seems to me there is truth in the story too. The boy's letters have been quite different of late. The thing needs some looking into. The best plan would be to summon Alosha here; we shall learn all the truth from him." At this point Alexandra offered to send a special messenger to Ufa to find out the truth through a relation of her husband's: "She is a very honest woman," she said, "and nothing would make her tell a lie." Her father agreed not to send for his son till the fresh report arrived. Alexandra started at once for her own house, which was not more than 30 ver

im courage. He threw himself at his father's feet and repeated the whole story, omitting no details and keeping nothing back. Stepan Mihailovitch listened with patience and attention. When one of the family appeared in the distance and evidently meant to come and say "good morning," he waved his blackthorn staff with a significant gesture, and then nobody, not even Aksyutka with the tea, dared approach before he summoned them. Though his son's story was ill-arranged, confused, long, and unconvincing, yet Stepan Mihailovitch with his clear head made out the gist of the matter. But unfortunately he did not and could not approve of it. Of the romantic side of love he had small appreciation, and his masculine pride was offended by his son's susceptibility, which seemed to him degrading weakness in a man and a sign of worthlessness; and yet at the same time he saw that Sofya Nikolayevna was not in the least to blame, and that all the evil he had heard about her was merely malicious falsehood, due to the ill will of his own womankind. After a little reflection, he said, with no sign of anger, even affectionately, but firmly: "Listen to me, Alexyéi! You are just at the time of life when a pretty girl may easily take a man's fancy. In that there is no harm whatever; but I see that you have gone too far, and that does not do. I don't blame Sofya Nikolayevna in the least; she seems to me a very worthy girl; but she's not a good match for you, and she won't suit us. In the first place, her nobility dates from yesterday, while you are the descendant of an ancient and noble line. Then she is accustomed to town life, highly educated, and independent; since her stepmother died she has ruled a household; and, though poor herself, she is used to luxury; but we are plain country people, and you know yourself how we live. And you ought to know your own character; you're too compliant. But her cleverness is the chief objec

last he got perfectly well; his face filled out and got back the healthy colour which it had lost for more than a year; he went out fishing and shooting quails, ate and drank heartily, and was in good spirits. His parents felt more joy than they could express, and were convinced that the illness had expelled all former thoughts and feelings from his head and heart. And perhaps this would really have been the case if they had taken him away from Ufa, kept him a whole year at home, and found a pretty girl for him to marry. But their fears were lulled to rest by his present condition, and they sent him back to the same place and the same duties after six months. This settled his fate once for all. The old passion revived and blazed up with far greater power. I do not know whether love came back to his heart all at once or by degrees; I only know that he went seldom at first to the Zubins' house, and then oftener, and at last as often as he could. I know also that his old friend, Mme. Alakayeff, continued her visits to Sofya Nikolayevna, sounding her cautiously as to her sentiments and bringing back favourable reports, which confirmed her own hope that the proud beauty was not indifferent to her humble worshipper. A few months after Alexyéi Stepanitch had returned to Ufa, a letter from him suddenly arrived at Bagrovo, in which he declared to his parents, with his usual affection and respect, but also with a firmness not characteristic of him, that he loved Sofya Nikolayevna more than his own life and could not live without her; he had hopes of her acce

oor prospects, and the shifts they had to practise at home to make ends meet. The old man listened sadly, with his hands on his knees, and his head, now turning white, bent down over his breast. Suddenly the door opened; and Ivan, a tall, handsome lad, wearing a travelling jacket, entered the room with a quick step and delivered a letter which he had brought from the post-town 25 versts away. The stir among the party showed that the letter was eagerly expected. "From Alosha?" asked the old man quickly and uneasily. "From my brother," answered Tanyusha, who had gone to meet Ivan, taken the letter quickly from him, and looked at the address. "You have lost no time, and I thank you. A dram for Ivan! Then go and have your din

I cannot go against your will; I submit to it, but I cannot long drag the burden of my life without my ad

to her senses. At once, Arina Vassilyevna threw herself at her husband's feet, raising the cry of mourning for the dead; and her daughters followed her example. Taking no notice of the storm-signals on his brow, and quite forgetting that she herself had egged him on to disappoint his son, she cried at the top of her voice: "Batyushka Stepan Mihailovitch! have pity and do not be the death of your own child, our only son! Give Alosha leave to marry! If anything happens to him, I will not live one hour longer!" The old man never stirred. A

gn of anger; on the contrary, he was quieter and more cheerful than he had been in the morning, and made a hearty meal. Arina Vassilyevna had to harden her heart and suit her conversation to his mood; she dared not even sigh, far less ask questions; in vain she tried to guess what was passing through her husband's mind; the little chestnut-brown eyes in her fat face might ask what questions they pleased, but the dark-blue eyes of Stepan Mihailovitch, for all thei

rand or where you are going. Put the young brown horse in the shafts, and the roarer abreast of him. Take six bushels of oats with you and a loaf of bread. Ask the housekeeper for two roubles in copper for your expenses. See that all is ready when my letter is written, and don't lose

Son Al

ur permission to marry Sofya Nikolayevna Zubin, if

r fa

an Ba

etter from the master, but his destination was unknown. She did not venture to join her husband at once: she waited an hour or so, and appeared when he had finished his tea and was chatting with Aksyutka, the maid, who had been plain as a child and was now still plainer in middle life. "Well, what did they wake you for?" said Stepan Mihailovitch, holding out his hand to his wife. "I dare say you had a bad night." Arina Vassilyevna kis

coldly and strangely; and this did not escape him. Elizabeth expressed no satisfaction whatever, but merely respectful submission to her father's will; but Tanyusha, who took her brother's letter quite seriously, rejoiced with all her heart. Elizabeth was not alarmed even at first by her brother's threat; she shed tears and interceded for him, merely because it would not look well to act differently from her mother and youngest sister. She wrote at once to Alexandra, who was furious when she h

was quite out of keeping with the character of Alexyéi Stepanitch, his view of life, and the circle of ideas in which he had been born and brought up. However that may be, when he had launched the fatal letter, he became greatly agitated and was soon laid up with fever. His friend and confidante, Mme. Alakayeff, knew nothing of the letter; she came to see him daily and soon perceived that his illness and his love-affair were not enough to account for his excessive agitation. She was sitting beside him one day, knitting a stocking and talking about trifles, in order to amuse the invalid and distract his mind from his hopeless passion; he was lying on the sofa, with his hands behind his head, looking out of the window. Suddenly he turned as white as a sheet. A cart with a pair of horses had turned off the street into the courtyard, and he recognised the horses and Tanaichonok. He sprang to his feet, cried out, "

own side made the marriage seem remote and impossible, they had been sanguine as to the feelings of the lady; but now a doubt seized on Mme. Alakayeff. When she recalled and examined all the favourable signs, she felt that perhaps she had attached more importance to them than they deserved; and, like a sensible woman, she made haste to moderate the young man's confid

f his financial position and prospects; she told the facts about his family, not forgetting to state that he had received by letter yesterday his parents' blessing and their full consent to seek the hand of a lady so worthy and highly respected as Sofya Nikolayevna; she added, that the young man had caught a fe

: without confusion and without any of the affectation and pr

did not expect; it seemed more natural to fear opposition on the part of my father. Later I saw that Alexyéi Stepanitch had revived his former feeling for me; and now I suppose that he has been able to induce his father and mother to consent. But you must admit yourself, my dear lady, that the matter now assumes quite a new aspect. To enter a family where one is not welcome, is too great a risk. Certainly, my father would not oppose my choice; but can I venture to conceal the truth from him? If he were to learn that an obscure country squir

young man. He did not think it promising, but she

would leave behind him six orphans, the children of his two marriages, and separate guardians would have to be appointed. The three youngest would go to their grandmother, Mme. Rychkoff; their mother's fortune consisted of a small estate of fifty serfs. Sofya Nikolayevna's own brothers were at a boarding-school in Moscow; she would be left absolutely alone, without even distant relations to take her under their roof. In short, she had no where to lay her head. To face poverty and want, to live on the charity of strangers and in complete dependence upon strangers-such a fate might distress any one; but to a girl who had lived in comfort and held a high position in society, a girl proud by nature and flattered by general attention and popularity, a girl who had experienced all the burden of dependence and then all the charm of authority-such a change might well seem intolerable. And here was a young man, good-looking, honest, modest, the heir of an ancient line and an only son, whose father possessed 180 serfs and who was himself to inherit wealth from an aunt; and this young man worshipped her and offered her his hand and heart. At first sight, hesitation seemed out of the question. But, on the other hand, they were ill-matched in mind and tempera

high, and fell on her knees before the image of Our Lady of Smolensk, who had once before by a miracle lightened her darkness and pointed out to her the path of life. For a long time she prayed, and her hot tears fell. But by degrees she felt a kind of relief, a measure of strength, a power of resolve, though she did not know yet what her resolve would be; and even this feeling helped her. She went downstairs to look at her father in his sle

her father while he lived, and that she would not live in the country. She wished to live in a town, in Ufa, for choice, where she was acquainted with many worthy and cultivated people, and hoped to enjoy their society after her marriage. She ended by saying that she would like to see her husband in the public service and holding a position in the town, which, if not brilliant, should at least secure deference and respect. To all these conditions and anticipations of a wife's rights, Alexyéi Stepanitch replied, with abject humility, that her will was law to him, and

too. Orson would love her still better, if that were possible, in gratitude for his transformation. This vision took hold of her eager imagination; and she parted very graciously from her adorer, promising to talk the matter over with her father and communicate the result through Mme. Alakayeff. Alexyéi Stepanitch was "swimming in bliss"-to use an expression of that day. That evening Sofya Nikolayevna again had recourse to prayer, and prayed for a long time with great mental strain and fervour. She was exhausted when she went to sleep; and she had a dream which she interpreted, as people often do, as a confirmation of her purpose. Men are clever enough to interpret anything according to their desires. This dream I forget; but I remember that it was capable, with much more probability and much less forcing, of the opposite interpretation. Next morning Sofya Nikolayevna lost no time in telling her f

he humblest of his subordinates? Might he not treat it as insolence, and thunder out: "How dared you think of my daughter? Are you a fit match for her? Off with him to prison and to judgment!" However wild these notions may appear, they did really pass through the young man's head; and he often told the story afterwards himself. Plucking up his spirits and encouraged by Mme. Alakayeff, he put on his uniform which hung loosely on his limbs from loss of flesh, and set off to wait on the great man. With his three-cornered hat under his arm, and clutching his troublesome sword in a trembling hand, he entered M. Zubin's s

cial usage requires that they should write to me personally on the subject; and I cannot give you a positive answer till I receive a letter to that effect." Alexyéi Stepanitch got up repeatedly, bowed, and sat down again. He agreed to everything and promised to write that very day to his parents. In half an hour the invalid said that he was tired-which was perfectly true-and dismissed the young man rather drily. The moment he left, Sofya Nikolayevna entered her father's study; he was lying with closed eyes, and his face expressed weariness and also anxiety. Hearing his daughter's approach, he threw an imploring glance at her, pressed his hands to his breast, and ejaculated: "Is it possible, Sonitchka, that you intend to marry him!"

ther would not give a positive answer. The fulfilment of this simple request gave some trouble to the old people at Bagrovo. They were no hands at composition, and, for want of previous experience, had no idea how to set about it, while they were exceedingly loath to commit themselves before the Governor's Deputy and their future rel

g there. Her presence made all the difference. She could make him talk and knew what he could talk about, so as to display to advantage his natural good sense, high principle, and goodness of heart. M. Zubin was obviously pleased: he spoke kindly to the young man and invited him to come to the house as often as he could. When they were alone, the old man embraced his daugh

ignorance always hates refinement; he warned her not to rely on the promises of a lover; for these as a rule are not kept after marriage, and Alexyéi Stepanitch, even if he wished, would not have the power to keep them. To all this sage advice, drawn directly from the experience of life, she had an answer of surprising adroitness; and at the same time she depicted in such lively colours the advantages of marrying a man who, if he lacked energy and refinement, was at least kind-hearted, honourable, loving, and no fool, that her father was carried away by her confidence and gave his full consent. She clasped her f

s bliss no words can describe: Sofya Nikolayevna, even in extreme old age, used to speak of his joy at that moment. He threw himself at M. Zubin's feet and kissed his hands, cried and sobbed like a child,

ally with her suitor, and seemed perfectly happy and content with her choice. The pair were soon summoned into M. Zubin's study, and the betrothal took place there before a few witnesses. While the priest read the prayers, the old man shed tears; when the rite was over, he told the bridegroom to kiss the bride and embraced them both himself with a great effort; then he gazed earnestly at Alexyéi Stepanitch and said, "Love her always as you do now; God is giving you such a treasure ..." and then he broke down. The engaged couple and the witnesses returned to the drawing-room, where all the men embraced the bridegroom and kissed the bride's hand, while all the ladies embraced the bride and had their hands kissed by the bridegroom. When this fuss was over, the pair were made to sit on a sofa side by side,

e newest fashion; silver had to be ordered from Moscow, and some dresses and presents; the other dresses, curtains for the state bed, and a sumptuous black-brown fur cloak which cost 500 roubles then and could not be bought now for 5000-all these were made in Kazan; a quantity of table-linen and Holland sheets were also pr

e distinct handwriting, and read it through twice himself. "Well, she's a clever girl," he said, "and I make sure she has a warm heart." This enraged the family, but they had the sense to keep silent. Alexandra alone could not restrain herself: her gooseberry eyes flashed with rage as she said: "She can write a fine letter, father, I admit; but all is not gold that glitters." The old man scowled at her and said in his da

s, sensible Daugh

e for you. And when, by God's blessing, we meet, we shall love you still better; and you w

anitch, who had heard a great deal of M. Anitchkoff as a wit, took it into his head to adopt an elaborate style. Therefore he had recourse to some novel of the day, and filled two sides with phrases which, under other circumstances, would have made Sofya Nikolayevna laugh outright; as it was, the blood rushed to her face, and then the tears poured from her eyes. When she grew calmer, she wondered how she was to get out of such an awkward situation. She did not wonder long, however. She wrote a rough draft of a letter herself, and then said to her betrothed, that, not being in the habit of writin

sked only 800 roubles, but Mme. Alakayeff stated the necessary sum at 1500. The old people replied that they had not got such a sum; they sent him all they had-300 roubles, and suggested that, if the other 500 were necessary, he should borrow them; but they promised to send him a team of four horses with a coachman and postilion, and

ndependence, that her courage and firmness in the execution of her purpose were more than once severely shaken. More than once, in despair, she took the engagement-ring off her finger, laid it before the image of Our Lady of Smolensk, and prayed with tears that her feeble intelligence might be enlightened by divine wisdom. As we know already, she was accustomed to act thus at each crisis in her life. When she had prayed, she felt braver and calmer. Interpreting this feeling as heavenly guidance, she would put her r

s a present to her maid; and he thought of driving to the church in an old shandrydan without springs, which would have made all the town laugh; and so on. The things were not of importance in themselves; but it would have tried Sofya Nikolayevna too hard to see her bridegroom the laughing-stock of Ufa society. All such things were put right by Mme. Alakayeff, or rather by the bride herself, for the two women discussed every point together. Sofya Nikolayevna told her lover in time, that he must not think of giving her a present fo

rse, declined the invitation. They had lived so long in their country solitude that town and town society seemed to them something strange and formidable. None of the daughters wished to go either; but Ste

en cordial to them at first; but when she saw that all her efforts were vain, and that the better she treated them the worse they treated her, she retired behind a wall of cold civility. But this did not protect her from those mean hints and innuendoes which it is impossible not to understand and not to resent, though it is awkward to do either, because you lay yourself open to the retort-"If the cap

he did not suspect their man?uvres. Allusions to the young lady's pride, to the poverty which she hid under jewels and fine clothes, to her caprices and his meek submission to them, were dinned into his ears all day long. Much passed unnoticed, but much also went straight to the mark and made him thoughtful and vaguely uneasy. All their attacks, whether secret or open, were accompanied by a pretence of sympathy and sisterly affection. "What makes you look so worn, my dear boy?" Elizabeth would ask; "Sofya Nikolayevna wears you out with all her commissions. You've just got back from the other end of the town, tired and hungry, and off you run again, without eating a morsel, to dance attendance on her. As your sisters, we can't help being sorry for you"; and then sham tears, or at least some play with the pocket-handkerchief, completed the crafty sentence. Then Alexandra would make a furious entry into the conversation. "No, my dear, I really cannot stand it! I know

fail to provide her with detailed information. Her impulsive nature made her unwilling to let things drag on. She reasoned justly, that she ought not to give time for the sisters' influence to take root at leisure, that she must open her lover's eyes and put the strength of his character and affection to a decisive test. If they proved too weak, it was better to part before marriage

Don't defend yourself, or deny it; that would not be honourable on your part. I know that you love me still, but you are afraid to show it; you fear your sisters, and that is why you are depressed and even avoid opportunities of being alone with me. You know yourself that all this is quite true. Well, then, tell me, how can I hope that your love will stand firm? It is a strange kind of love that turns coward and hides, because your sisters disapprove of your bride, as you knew they did long ago. Suppose your parents disapprove of me and turn up their noses at me? What then? Then you will really cease to love me. No, Alexyéi Stepanitch, honourable men do not behave so to the woman they love. The knowledge that your sisters disliked me should have made you twice as attentive and twice as devoted in their presence; and then they would not have dared to utter a syllable; but you have suffered them to use insulting language in your presence. I know just how they speak to you. From all this I c

usual malicious jests, he flew into such a rage and attacked them with such fury that they were frightened. The wrath of a gentle patient man is a formidable thing. Among other things he told his sisters that, if they ventured to say another insulting word about his bride or about himself, he would instantly move to other lodgings, from which, as well as from M. Zubin's house, they would be excluded; and he would write to his father and tell him the whole story. That was enough. Alexandra had a clear recollection of her father's warning-"Keep your tongue quiet, and don't stir up the rest of the family!" Sh

look at his face without pain; but she had the firmness to support the test she had imposed. The agitation and pity which she felt were a surprise to herself. She felt that she did really love this simple, modest young man, who was absolutely devoted to her and would not have hesitated to put an end to his existence if she made up her mind to refuse him. At last the two long days were over. Early on the third day Alexyéi Stepanitch sat in the drawing-room, waiting for his mistress to appear. The door opened softly, and in she came, more beautiful, more charming than ever. She was smiling, and her eyes expres

the statement-that a great change took place in Alexyéi Stepanitch, and even a complete transformation. I am very willing to believe it; but I have a proof that his proficiency in social etiquette left something to be desired. I know that he made his bride very angry the day before the marriage, and that her vehemence left a strong and painful impression on his mind. It happened in the following way. Two ladies were calling on Sofya Nikolayevna when a servant brought in a paper parcel and handed it to his mistress, with the explanation that Alexyéi Stepanitch had sent it by his coachman and wished her at once to make a cap for his sister Alexandra. Her lover had left her half an hour before without saying one word about this commission, and Sofya Nikolayevna was exceedingly annoyed. The ladies, who were of some importance, had supposed at first that the parcel contained a present from the bridegroom; and now they did not try to conceal their amusement. Sofya Nikolayevna lost patience: she ordered the parcel to be returned, with a message that Alexyéi Stepanitch had better apply to a milliner; it was no doubt a mistake to have brought the thing to her. The explanation was quite simple. On going home, he had found his sister in a great difficulty, because the milliner, who had engaged

be in an ecstasy of joy on the day when he led her to the altar; and here he was, looking demure and even depressed! She expressed her feelings, and that made matters worse. Of course, he assured her that he considered himself the happiest man in the world, and so on; but the pompous and t

realised afresh all the difficulty of the tremendous task she had undertaken-the reformation and regeneration of a man of twenty-seven. Her whole life-and it might be long-must be spent with a husband whom she loved indeed but could not entirely respect; there would be constant collision between utterly different ideas and opposite qualities, and they would often misunderstand one another. Doubts of success, doubts of her own strength, doubts of her power to command the qualities of firmness and calmness so foreign to her nature-these rose before her for the first time in their appalling truth, and she shrank back in terror. But what could she do? If she broke off the marriage at the eleventh hour, what would be the consequences? It would be a terrible blow to her dy

on his way to church, had to pass right under the drawing-room windows, and Sofya Nikolayevna saw him drive past in the English carriage drawn by the four fine horses bred at Bagrovo; he had his head out and was looking up at the open windows; she smiled and nodded. Next came the bridegroom's sisters with Mme. Alakayeff, and all the men who were escorting him to church. She did not wish to keep him waiting, and insisted, in spite of various hindrances, that they should start at once. Sofya Nikolayevna was calm and composed when she entered the church; she gave her arm cheerfully and smilingly to the bridegroom; but she was vexed to see that his face still wore the same sad expression; and it was generally remarked that they both looke

ithout pleasure; and every one said, "What a handsome couple!" A week later, they prepared for a visit to Bagrovo; the bridegroom's si

t out of place, and therefore hastened their departure. On arriving at Bagrovo, they determined to do nothing rash and to hide their hostility towards Sofya Nikolayevna from their father; but to their mother and two sisters they described the marriage and events at Ufa in such a way as to fill their minds with a strong prejudice against the bride; and they did not forget to mention their brother's threats an

the point than the women are." Karatayeff, disregarding a signal from his wife, burst out with enthusiasm: "I do assure you, batyushka, that such another dazzler"-he always used this phrase of a beautiful woman-"as brother Alexyéi has bagged is not to be found in the whole world. A look from her is as good as a shilling. And her cleverness! it's past all telling. But there's one thing, batyushka: she's proud; she can't stand a joke. When you t

bedroom, one corner of which overlooked the garden and the clear waters of the Boogoorooslan with its green bushes and loud nightingales. Tanyusha was very unwilling to move to the bath-house, but there was no other place: all her sisters were put up in the house, and Karatayeff and Yerlykin slept in the hayloft. The day before the visitors' arrival brought their state-bed and bed-hangings and curtains for the windows, and with them a man who knew how to put everything up properly. Tanyusha's room was

halt. Sofya Nikolayevna had probably never seen people of this tribe close at hand; and therefore the dress of the women and the uncommonly tall stout girls-their white shifts embroidered with red wool, their black woollen girdles, and the silver coins and little bells which hung from their heads over their breasts and backs-was very interesting to her. But, when she heard them all break out into joyful greetings and compliments and good wishes, childish enough and expressed i

ovitch was clean-shaved and wore an old-fashioned frock-coat and a stock round his neck. Husband and wife stood on the top step; and he held in his hands an ikon representing the Presentation of the Virgin, while she carried a loaf of bread and a silver salt-cellar. Their daughters and two sons-in-law were grouped round them. The carriage drove up to the steps. The young couple got out, knelt down before the old people, and received their blessing; then they exchanged embraces with each member of the family. H

od: we acknowledge t

THE YOUNG COU

-law. He began by asking about her father's health, and expressed sincere regret on hearing that he grew weaker daily: "In that case, my dear," he said, "I must not keep you too long at Bagrovo." It need not be said that the bride was at no loss for words: she was not merely polite, but cordial and eager to make a good impression. Arina Vassilyevna, naturally a very simple woman, took her tone from her husband, as far as her intelligence and her dread of disobeying her daughters would let her. She was friendly to her son's wife and had taken a real liking to her at first sight; but the others were silent, and it was not hard to guess their feelings from their faces. After half an hour the bride whispered to her husband, who rose at once and went to the bedroom which had been specially prepared for them, near the drawing-room. Stepan Mihailovitch looked on with surprise; but the bride's lively talk engaged his attention, and he was so much interested by it that he was startled when presently the folding doors of the bedroom opened and his son came in, holding a large silver salver so loaded with presents for the family that it actually bent under their weight. Sofya Nikolayevna sprang to her feet; she took from the salver and presented to her father-in-law a piece of fine English broadcloth, and a waistcoat of watered silk, richly laced with gold

ayeff dared not open his mouth in the presence of Stepan Mihailovitch except to answer a question, and went no further than repeating the last words of other people's remarks. If they said: "The hay crop will be good, if we get no rain," or "The rye made a good start till that sudden frost came"-Karatayeff came in like an echo, "if we get no rain," "till the frost came"; and his repetitions were sometimes ill-timed. As the hosts had not thought of procuring sparkling wine from Ufa, the health of the bride and bridegroom was drunk in strawberry wine, three years old and as thick as oil, which diffused about the room the delicious perfume of the wild strawberry. Mazan, with long boots smelling of tar on his feet, and wearing a long coat which

came to an end. Sofya Nikolayevna, unlike the rest, had found this rustic feast very wearisome, but she had done her best to enliven it by cheerful conversation. When they rose from table, his son and daughters kissed their father's hand, and Sofya Nikolayevna tried to do so too, but the old man embraced and kissed her instead. It was the second time this had happened, and Sofya Nikolayev

e too would be none the worse of a rest after their journey"; then he went off to his own room, escorted by his son and daughter-in-law. "This is my den, my dear," said the old man cheerfully; "sit down and be my guest. As your husband knows, it was an exception for me to sit in the drawing-room with you all, with this bearing-rein on, as well," and he pointed to his stock: "and in future, i

t one of the party even lay down to sleep that afternoon. Poor Sofya Nikolayevna was their theme, and her sisters-in-law simply tore her to pieces; they were enraged beyond all bounds by their father's evident partiality for her. But there was one kind heart there-Aksinya, the eldest sister, who was now a widow for the second time; she stood up for Sofya Nikolayevna and

of the rapid river, and began at once to speak to her husband of his relations. She discussed their reception. "I like your father so much," she went on, "and I could see at the first glance that he liked me; perhaps your mother liked me, but she seemed afraid to show it. Aksinya seems the kindest of them, but she is afraid of something too. Oh, I understand it all perfectly; I know in what quarter the damp wood is smouldering. I did not miss a single word or a single glance; I know what I am bound to expect. God will judge your sisters, Elizabeth and Alexandra!" But Alexyéi Stepanitch was hardly listening to her words. The fresh shade, the green of the boughs bending over the stream, the low ripple of the running water, the fish jumping, his adored wife sitting beside him with one arm round his waist-in such surroundings how was it possible to find fault or make objections or express discontent? How was it possible even to take in what was said? And in fact Alexyéi Stepanitch did not take in what his young wife was saying to him: he was so happy that nothing but silence and oblivion of the world around him could serve as a full expression of his intoxicating bliss. But Sofya Nikolayevna went on: she said a great deal, with warmth and feeling; and then she noticed that her husband was not listening and was nearly asleep. She sprang up at once, and then followed a scene of conflict and mutual misunderstanding,

she had been his own daughter. "Now then, Alosha," he said, "take your wife's arm and lead her round to greet the people; they are all anxious to see her and kiss the hand of their young mistress. Let us start!" He went in front himself; then came Alexyéi Stepanitch, leading his wife, and last, at a little distance, Arina Vassilyevna with her daughters and their husbands. The sisters-in-law, except Aksinya, found it hard to restrain their wrath. The signs of growing affection on their father's part, his mention of Sofya Nikolayevna as "the young mistress," the triumph of this hated intruder, her beauty and pretty clothes, her ready easy tongue, her charming respect and affection for her father-in-law-all these things rankled in their jealous bosoms. They felt at once that they had sunk in importance. "It matters less to us," whispered Alexandra; "we are severed branches; but I can't look at Tanyusha without crying. She is nothing now in the household but Sofya Nikolayevna's maid. And you, mother-no one will respect you any more: the servants will all look to her for orders." Her voice shook, and the tears gathered in her round rolling eyes. Meanwhile Stepan Mihailovitch had got to the outdoor servants and was calling the peasants to come nearer: "Why don't you all stand together? You all belong to the same family. Well," he went on, "here you see your young mistress; the young master you know already. When the time comes, serve them as faithfully and zealously as you have served me and Arina Vassilyevna, and you will earn their love and favour." All the people bowed to the ground. The bride, unaccustomed to such demonstrations, felt disconcerted, not knowing where to go or what to do. Noticing this, her father-in-law said: "Don't be frightened! Their heads may bend, but they won't come off. Well, my friends, first kiss your young mistress's hand, and then drink to he

red out tea. Then Sofya Nikolayevna asked leave of her father-in-law to sit beside him, and he consented with obvious satisfaction. She sprang up from the table, carried her half-finished cup of tea to the stoop, and sat down beside the old man. He caressed her and ordered a mat to be put down for her, that she might not spoil her dress. Then they began a lively, cheerful talk; but at the tea-table angry looks and even whispers were exchanged, in spite of the presence of the young husband. He could not help noticing this, and his spirits, which had not been high before, fell yet lower. Suddenly the old man's loud voice rang out: "Come a

she first saw him, she was frightened by his rough exterior; but she soon read in his intelligent eyes and kindly smile, and heard in his voice, that this old man had a tender heart which beat kindly to her, that he was ready to love her and would love her. Knowing from the first that all her hopes depended upon him, she had firmly resolved to gain his love by all means; but now she had learnt to love him herself, and her deliberate plan coincided with the impulse of her heart. In this respect Sofya Nikolayevna was satisfied with herself: she saw that she had reached her goal at once. But she was distressed by the thought that by her impetuosity she had hurt her kind husband. She waited impatiently for him, but, as if to spite her, he did not return. Had she known where he was, she would have hurried off in search of him long ago. She longed to throw herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness with tears, and to remove the last trace of dissatisfaction from his mind by a torrent of loving words and caresses. But Alexyéi Stepanitch still did not return; and the happy moment, when she was penitent and loving and filled with a passionate desire to atone for her fault, went by to no purpose. An impulse soon passes, and Sofya Nikolayevna first grew alarmed and then angry at her husband's long absence. When he came in at last, looking rather upset and distressed, instead of rushing into his arms and begging to be forgiven, his wife called out to him in an excited and somewhat irritated voice, as soon as he crossed the threshold: "Where on earth have you been? Why did you leave me alone? I am quite worn out with waiting for you two whole hours!" "I sa

ather, and begged him to be perfectly frank with her: frankness, she said, was essential between them. Her husband was soothed and comforted; and in the fullness of his heart he told her all he had determined to keep secret at all costs, lest he should make a quarrel between his wife and his sisters. He lay down and went to sleep at once, but Sofya Ni

. All her actions were as quick and neat as if she had done nothing else all her life. The old man was pleased, as he watched that young and pretty figure so unlike what he was accustomed to, and those busy active fingers. The tea was made strong, and served exactly as he liked it: that is, the teapot, covered with a napkin, was placed on the top of the samovar; his cup was filled close up to the brim; Sofya Nikolayevna handed it without spilling a single drop in the saucer; and the fragrant beverage was so hot that it burnt his lips. The old man took his cup and tasted the tea. With surprise and pleasure he said: "I declare you are a witch: you know all my tastes and fancies. Well, if you make yourself as pleasant to your husband, he will be a happy man." He generally drank his tea alone, and the family did not begin theirs till he had finished; but this morning, when he had got his second cup, he told his daughter-in-law to pour one out for herself and drink it sitting beside him. "I never drink more than two, but I will take a third cup to-day; the tea tastes better somehow," he said in the kindest of tones. And indeed, the pleasure which Sofya Nikolayevna felt in her occupation was so visible on her expressive face that it could not but communicate itself to the susceptible nature of Stepan Mihailovitch; and his spirits rose unusually high. He made her take a second cup and eat a scone, of the kind for which the ovens at Bagrovo were long famous. The tea was cleared away, and a conversation began, most lively and animated, most frank and affectionate. Sofya Nikolayevna gave free course to her eager feelings; she talked easily and charmingly; her conquest of the old man was complete. In the middle of their talk he suddenly asked, "What of your husband? Is he asleep?" "Alexyéi was waking when I left him," she said quickly; "but I told him to sleep on." The old man frowned severely and was silent. After a moment's reflexion, he spoke, not angrily but seriously. "Listen to me, my dear little daughter-in-law; you are so clever that I can tell you the truth without beating about the bush. I don't like to keep a thing on my mind. If you take my advice-well and good; if you don't-well, you are not my daughter and can please yourself. I don't like

it was taken to mean that he did not wish to see any one. She only came out now because her husband had told Mazan to summon all the family. There was no trace of tears on Sofya Nikolayevna's face; and she greeted the newcomers with more than

go to Aksinya's house next day. Aksinya herself went home that afternoon, accompanied by her sister Elizabeth, who was to help her in entertaining the gue

initiated her into the past and present history of her new relations; and his whole description was so simple and true, so frank and lifelike, that she realised it as few could have done, and was charmed by it. Never in her life had she met his equal. Her own father was intelligent and kind, emotional and unselfish; but at the same time he was weak, falling in with the prevailing tone of his surroundings, and bearing the stamp of the evasive time-serving official who had worked his way up from a clerk's stool to the position of Governor's Deputy. Here she saw before h

ter Elizabeth. As the old man was lying down to rest as usual, he said, "Well, Arisha, I think God has given us a splendid daughter-in-law; it would be a sin not to take her to our hearts." "True indeed, Stepan Mihailovitch," she answered; "if you approve of Sofya Nikolayevna, of c

e apt to do, she transferred to her handsome young husband some part of the merits she had found in his father, and loved him more than ever. He listened with surprise and pleasure to the enthusiasm of his beautiful wife, and said to himself, "Thank God that my father and she have become such friends! There will be no further trouble." He kissed her hands, and said that he was the happiest man on all the earth, and she a peerless goddess before whom all should bo

e weed grew round it in an untidy way; but the stones did their work thoroughly well. He liked to show off his mill, and now displayed it in detail to his daughter-in-law, taking pleasure in her utter ignorance and astonishment, which sometimes turned to fear, when he suddenly turned on a strong current of water upon all the four wheels, till the machinery began to move and swing and rattle, the stones to whirl round, creaking and whizzing, and the building, filled with flour-dust, to quiver and shake under foot. All this was an entire novelty to Sofya Nikolayevna, and she did not like it at all, though out of politeness she asked many questions and expressed surprise and admiration at everything. He was much pleased, and kept her there a long time. When the pair went out upon the dam, where Alexyéi Stepanitch and his sisters were fishing, they were hailed with laughter by the anglers: they were both covered with flour. Stepan Mihailovitch was accustomed to this; besides he had given a shake and a brush to his clothes on leaving the mill; but Sofya Nikolayevna had no suspicion that she was so completely and artistically powdered. When he looked at her, her father-in-law himself laughed heartily; and she laughed more than any one, and was very merry, regretting only that she had no looking-glass to

infernal temper and cruel tongue. She saw perfectly that all was lost and all her forebodings realised: that her father was taken in the toils and infatuated with the adventuress, and there was nothing to be done now except to dismiss the pair to Ufa

ead, or perching on the guide-posts and filling the air with their notes. Alexyéi Stepanitch was very sorry that he had not taken his gun. In those days the steppe was alive with birds of every kind, and the sound of their myriad voices was so attractive to him, and indeed absorbed his attention so completely, that his ears were generally deaf to the lively and clever conversation of his wife. She soon noticed this and became thoughtful; her high spirits gave place to displeasure, and she began to talk to her maid, Parasha, who was with them in the coach. After crossing a district of high level land, they arrived at their destination exactly at noon. The little wooden house, an even greater contrast than Bagrovo to the houses of Ufa, stood on the flat bank of the Little Kinel, divided from it only by a kitchen-garden containing a few sunflowers and young vegetables and rows of peele

r husband's rank. But that simple soul held out against her clever, cunning sister: to all her urgent admonitions her answer was short and plain: "Do as you please at Bagrovo; you may hate and abuse Sofya Nikolayevna, but I like her; she has always been polite and kind to me, and therefore I intend to make her and my brother happy in my house." And she carried out her purpose with sincere affection and satisfaction, showing every attention to her sister-in-law and pressing her good things on both guests. But the proud Elizabeth and even her husband-though he drank so much towards evening that he had to be shut up in an empty bath-house-were much colder and more distant in their behaviour than at Bagrovo. Sofya Nikolayevna took no notice of them, and was charming to her hostess and the children. After dinner the party rested for a little and then went out for a walk by the riv

ls; how he could gaze with delight at the tiresome steppe with its stupid snipe; and, above all, how he could desert his wife for hours for the sake of a fishing-rod and those bream which smelt so damp and disgusting! So she felt almost

reached Bagrovo before they were expected. But preparations were making for dinner, and Alexandra had had time to say: "Poor papa will have to wait for dinner to-day; but how can you expect town-people to get up so early several days running?" The old man saw through this perfectly. He astonished them all by saying very good-humouredly, "Well, never mind; we can wait for our guests." This caused a sensation, because Stepan Mihailovitch had never in his life sat down to dinner later than twelve o'clock, though sometimes, when he felt hungry, he had it earlier, and the slight

fine mares with foals at foot, and hoped she would have good fortune with their stock. Sofya Nikolayevna was much pleased by the foals, and liked to watch them as they started and bounded and then nuzzled against their mothers; and she expressed much gratitude for the gift. Then Stepan Mihailovitch gave strict orders to his head groom, Spirka: "See," he said, "that special care is taken of Sofya Nikolayevna's mares; and we shall put a special mark on the foals by splitting one ear rather lower; and later we must make a brand with the young mistress's name on it." Then he turned to her: "

nch. As the road was little used and heavy for the horses, they halted half-way for two hours in the open field, and reached Karatayevka about tea-time. The house was infinitely worse than Aksinya's: the small dark windows caught the eye at once; the floors were uneven, riddled with rat-holes, and so dirty as to defy soap and water. Sofya Nikolayevna felt fear and disgust as she entered this inhospitable and repulsive dwelling. Alexandra was haughty in her reception of them; she was profuse in sarcastic apologies of this kind: "We are glad to see our guests and bid them welcome; my brother, I know, will not be critical, but I doubt if Sofya Nikolayevna will deign to enter our poor house after her father's grand mansion at Ufa. Of course we are poor people, with no official rank; living on our own property, we have no lucrative salaries to maintain us." But Sofya Nikolayevna gave as good as she got: she replied that the way people lived depended as much on their tastes as on their money, and that it was all one to her where her husband's relations lived and how they lived. When supper was over, the young couple were shown to their bedroom, which was the so-called drawing-room. As soon as the candle was out, a great disturbance began in the room; the pattering and noise increased, and swarms of rats soon assailed them with such boldne

existence. Most of his summer was spent in visiting wandering Bashkir tribes, and drinking koumiss every day till he was intoxicated; he spoke the Bashkir language like a native; he rode on horseback whole days without dismounting, and had become as bow-legged as a Bashkir; he had their skill with the bow and could smash an egg at long range with the best of them. All the rest of the year he spent in a kind of lumber-room warmed by a stove, near the house-door; he wore a skin coat, and kept the little window always open even in the hardest frosts; and there he remained all day with his head stuck out of the window, humming Bashkir songs and taking a sip now and then of

at the door, they said "good-bye" at once and started. The hostess kissed her sister-in-law on both cheeks and on the shoulders, and

buse. Alexyéi Stepanitch, a straightforward and kindly man himself, could not believe that there was any intention on the part of his sister: attributing what had happened to mere carelessness, he was hurt by his wife's violent language which was really inexcusable under any provocation. The young husband was angry for the first time with his young wife: saying that she should be ashamed to speak so, he turned from her and was silent. Such was their state of mind when t

overed after the marriage, and he was banished to Ufa. His wife soon died. Within a year he consoled himself and fell in love with Katherine Myortvavo, who was attracted by his gay and amiable temper, his intelligence and acquirements; his face was so very plain that it could exercise no attraction. She was no longer a girl and had too strong a character to be controlled by her mother and brothers: they let her marry Chichagoff, and he was pardoned soon afterwards but not allowed to leave the Government of Ufa. Sofya Nikolayevna liked him for two reasons: because he was the husband of her dearest friend, and perhaps still more for his own cleverness and wide information. Mme. Myortvavo had just settled to leave Ufa and live

rner of the carriage and either fell asleep or pretended to. They reached Bagrovo two hours before dinner. Stepan Mihailovitch was obviously pleased to see his daughter-in-law again, and even said that he had missed her. "My dear," he added; "you really must not stay here too long, or I shan't be able to let you go; as it is, I shall miss you, likely enough." He made her give him a minute account of their expedition. He praised Mme. Myortvavo whom he knew well, and said that he would send her an invitation ne

old man: he had only been there once, long ago, and had heard nothing of the kind. But here Arina Vassilyevna unsuspiciously joined in, in spite of the warning signs of her daughter Elizabeth; she suffered for it afterwards, poor lady, at the hands of her daughters. "O yes, yes, batyushka Stepan Mihailovitch!" she cried; "the rats there are perfec

ionately in love with her kind young husband. She blamed herself severely: she ought to have foreseen everything and been prepared for everything. She knew that Alexyéi Stepanitch would not hesitate to die for her, but she knew also that she ought not to demand of him what he could not give-a tender and constant observation, and a full comprehension of all the trifling occurrences that might give her pain. And this was hard for her, with her hot blood and sensitive nerves, her eager, excitable brain and impressionable nature. Such were the poor woman's thoughts and feelings as she walked up and down her room waiting for her husband; his mother had stopped him on his way there after dinner and asked him to come to her bedroom. The minutes seemed to her like hours. The thought that he was loitering on purpose, fearing a scene and unwilling to be alone with her; the thought, that without relieving her heart of its many troubles and without a reconciliation with her husband, she would see him again in the presence of her enemies and must play a part the whole evening-this thought oppressed her heart and threw her into a fever. Suddenly the door opened, and Alexyéi Stepanitch walked in. There was no hesitation in his movements; he was no longer timid and sad, but fearless and even displeased. He began at once to reproach her for co

in the drawing-room, and I never thought of putting curtains to their bed. I was so busy and so glad to see them that it slipped my memory." "You were so glad to see them! Do you expect me to believe that? How did you dare to act so to your brother and to me? How did you dare to bring shame on your father in his old age?" The affair would perhaps have gone no further than angry words and loud threats and possibly a rap from his fist; but Alexandra, stung by the thought that she was suffering on account of Sofya Nikolayevna, and hoping that the storm would still blow over, forgot that any sort of answer was a new offence. She could not resist saying, "I am punished for nothing on her account." A fresh and terrible fit of rage seized Stepan Mihailovitch, that rage which invariably ended in painful and shocking violence. Words of fury were on the point of rushing from his lips, when Arina Vassilyevna, with her daughters Aksinya and Tanyusha, ran into the room and fell at the old man's feet, with tears and cries; they had been standing outside the door and had seen what was coming. Karatayeff had been st

rovo. Soon after dinner two clouds of intense blackness had met in the zenith and long remained there motionless, emitting from time to time flashes of lightning and shaking the air with peals of thunder. At last the rain came down in

ep up a conversation were unsuccessful. The absence of the father and of one daughter puzzled Sofya Nikolayevna beyond endurance: she invented some pretext for going to her own room, where she summoned Parasha and got to the bottom of the mystery. They knew all about it in the maids' room: not only had Mazan and Tanaichonok been listening all the time, but the old lady and her daughter were in the habit of keeping nothing back from their waiting-women. Thus Parasha was able to give her mistress an exact and detailed report. Sofya Nikolayevna was much disturbed. She had never expected such alarming consequences; she heartily regretted having told her father-in-law about the wretched rats; and she was sincerely sorry for Alexandra. She went back to the drawing-room and asked leave to visit the invalid, but was told she was asleep. During her absence, Alexyéi Stepanitch had heard the whole story. After a hasty supper they separated to their rooms at ten o'clock. When alone with her husband, Sofy

enign darkness of night which gives light to the eye of our mind, the stillness, and then sleep, which calms the passions of men and rains down blessings upon them-all these did their kindly office. Early next day he summoned Arina Vassilyevna and gave her his instructions to convey to his daughters-they were intended mainly for Alexandra, but in part also for Elizabeth-that Sofya Nikolayevna was not to know of any unpleasantness, and they were to behave accordingly. In a short time the

pose, being entirely sincere, acted like a spell on others. In this case, she laid herself out to calm the agitation of her father-in-law, for whom she had conceived a warm affection, and who had championed her cause at the cost of his peace of mind and at the risk of his health; and she wished to relieve her husband and his family, who had been terrified and assailed owing to her slip of the tongue. Her imagination and feelings were so completely mastered by this purpose that she exercised a kind of magical power ove

airian. He lived at home without taking any part in the life of the family, and reserved to himself complete freedom in the gratification of his somewhat Epicurean tastes and habits. Though she had heard of him, Sofya Nikolayevna had never seen him, because he had only recently removed to Orenburg from his public office at Petersburg. She was surprised to find in him a man possessed of intelligence and culture according to the standards of the time, and dressed like a gentleman living in the capital. She was pleased with him at first; but he soon began to show off before such an attractive visitor, and then his profanity and the shameless immorality of his family life made her feel a disgust for him which she never afterwards got over. His

uch a passion for his daughter-in-law, kissing her repeatedly, claiming that they were kindred spirits, and lavishing terms of affection upon her. Contrary to custom, the whole family went out again to the stoop after supper, and spent a long time

ol and could not raise a glass of wine to his lips without a shudder; but he was seized four times a year with a sudden and irresistible craving for spirits. If the attempt was made to keep drink from him, he became a most pitiable and wretched object, talking constantly and weeping, and begging abjectly for the poison; and if it was still refused, he became frantic and even capable of attempts at suicide. Sofya Nikolayevna, who had heard the whole story, was e

an believed that all these sights were interesting and agreeable to her; but in fact she positively disliked them all. Her sole support was in the thought that she would soon leave Bagrovo and would do her best never to set eyes on it again. If any one had told her that sh

er guest was Afrosinya Andréyevna (her surname, which was never used, I forget), a spare little old lady and a great talker; she had a small estate near Bagrovo. She was fam

ongratulate her on the festival; and then Her Majesty was so very kind and condescending as to say: 'How are you, Afrosinya Andréyevna? How is your suit going? Why don't you come to see me of an evening and bring your knitting with you? We could chat together and pass the time pleasantly.' Of course I never missed an evening after that. I got to know the people about the court, and every one in the palace without a single exception knew me and liked me. Suppose a royal footman was sent anywhere, to buy something it might be, he never failed to look in at my house and tell me all about it. As a matter of course, I always offered him a glass of something good; I kept a bottle of whisky in the cupboard on purpose. I was sitting by my window one evening

d listening to the harmless fabrications and fictions of simple people, who were innocently carried away by the vividness of their imagination till they actually came to believe in their own incredible romancing. He liked talking to Afrosinya Andréyevna, not only a

. All the family wore their best bib and tucker, and even Stepan Mihailovitch was forced to smarten himself up. M. Chichagoff, who had a critical, satirical turn of mind, made fun with much effect of the motley assembly and especially of his friend Kalpinsky; he was talking all the time to his wife and to her inseparable companion, Sofya Nikolayevna, who sat together and apart from the rest. Sofya Nik

could hardly hold them all or support their weight. Cold dishes came first-smoked hams seasoned with garlic; next came green cabbage soup and crayfish soup, with forcemeat balls and rolls of different kinds; then fish-salad on ice, sturgeon kippered and sturgeon dried, and a dish heaped mountain-high with crayfish tails. Of entrées there were only two: salted quails aux choux, and stuffed ducks with a red sauce containing raisins, plums, peaches, and apricots. These en

and the meal went on for hours. The dishes were solid, substantial affairs, as we have seen, and there were plenty of them; and the servants also, both those of the house and those whom th

e, in his eagerness to save money. Yerlykin sat next to Chichagoff; unlike the rest of the party, he ate little and drank nothing but cold water; he never spoke, but looked gloomy and profound. The lady of the house had her daughters and nieces with other guests near her at table. The party next adjourned to the drawing-room, where there were two tables set out with sweetmeats. On one stood a round cabinet of Chinese porcelain resting on a round metal stand which was gilt and painted in bright colours. The cabinet contained a num

ery token of the stern old man's love for her-tokens often so slight that many would have missed them. Stepan Mihailovitch, who was thoroughly enjoying himself, tried to make Mme. Lupenevsky talk: pretending ignorance, he asked in a loud voice, "Well, Flona, what say you of my daughter-in-law?" The lady's enthusiasm had been raised to a higher pitch by the ale and strong waters she had been drinking. She declared most positively and solemnly that she had fallen in love at first sight with Sofya Nikolayevna, and rather preferred her to her own daughter, Lizanka; and that Alexyéi Stepanitch was the most fortunate of men. "It used to be quite another story," said the old man significantly; "don't change back again, my dear!" But now Sofya Nikolayevna, perhaps from a dislike for this topic, strongly urged her father-in-law to go and lie down, if only for a short time. He consented, and she went with him and drew his curtains with her own hand; he asked her to see to the entertainment of the party, and she hurried back,

a was poured out by Sofya Nikolayevna; there were rolls and scones and cream so thick that it had a golden tinge on it; and for all this some at least of the guests still found room. The Kalpinskys

ut interruption. As a matter of course, his wishes were carried out. Alexandra said "good-bye" to her sister-in-law as graciously as she could, and the sister-in-law said "good-bye" to her with unfeigned satisfaction. Her secret wish to spend some days without the hateful presence of Elizabeth and Alexandra had been divined by Stepan Mihailovitch; and she blessed him in her thoughts

hailovitch, and could understand how her husband came to be what he was. To some extent she realised that Alexyéi could not be entirely changed, and that the time was distant-perhaps it would never come-when misunderstandings between them would cease. But this last thought passed too lightly through her mind; and the old dream, that she could educate her husband over again and make a new man of him, took fresh hold of her eager imagination. What happens to most young wives in the course of life was happening now to Sofya Nikolayevn

or some useful advice; but, whenever he began, he could not find the right words for thoughts and feelings which he could not make clear even to himself; and he went no further than those trivial commonplaces which, for all their triviality, have been bequeathed to us by the practical wisdom of past generations and are verified by our own experience. His failure troubled him, and he said so frankly to his daughter-in-law. She was a clever woman, yet she failed to understand the thoughts which the old man was turning over in his brain, and the feeling hidden in his heart. To his son he said: "Your wife is very clever and very excitable. Her tongue will probably run away with her at times; if so, don't be weak with her: stop her at once, and make her see her mistake. Scold her, but forgive her at once; if she displeases you, don't b

a daughter. There was much talk on other subjects-their future life at Ufa, the husband's prospects in his profession, a

on his daughter-in-law. The carriage was already standing at the steps. When the party rose from table, they went to the drawing-room and sat there in silence for some minutes. Then Stepan Mihailovitch crossed himself and rose to his feet; the rest followed his example, said a prayer,45 and began their good-byes. All shed tears except Stepan Mihailovitch, and even he had hard work to refrain. He embraced his daughter-in-law and gave her his blessing; then he whispered in her ear, "Mind, I look forward to a little grandson." She blushed up to the ears and kissed his hands without speaking; and now he did not resist her doing so. All the outdoor servants and most of the peasants were standing by the steps. So

T V: LI

a soothing effect upon her mind; and she began to feel heartily glad that she had left Bagrovo. Her joy was too great to be concealed, though she realised that her husband would not like it. He, she thought, was sadder than he had any business to be. Some explanations might possibly have followed, but were fortunately prevented by the presence of Parasha. The carriage rolled quickly thr

casion-and the pair resumed their journey. Fortune was kind at this point to Sofya Nikolayevna: it proved impossible to get to the Yerlykins' house, and thus she was saved from a most tiresome and oppressive visit. A deep river on the way had to be crossed, and the bridge had rotted and collapsed. As it would take a long time to mend it, the young couple could keep straight on towards Ufa. As they got near the town, Sofya Nikolayevna could think of nothing but her sick father, who had not seen her for more than a fortnight; he had been left in the care of serva

ite bank, and an ancient warrior at their head, riding on a snow-white horse, and holding a spear in one hand and a Cross in the other. The cowardly band of outlaws were terrified by this vision and desisted from all their attempts; and they had done nothing when the news came that Pugatchoff was defeated. Of course they scattered at once. The revolt came to an end, and the scattered rabble were seized and brought to trial. Nikolai, who was one of these, was condemned to the gallows. I cannot vouch for the truth of this; but I have been assured that, after his trial at Ufa, the noose was actually round his neck, when M. Zubin claimed the privilege which he possessed as a landholder, pardoned his old favourite, and took him home, undertaking to be responsible himself for the criminal's behaviour. Nikolai seemed penitent and tried by zeal and devotion to atone for his crime. By degrees he contrived to get back into his master's confidence; and, when Sofya Nikolayevna, after her stepmother's death, took over the management of the household, she found Nikolai established as butler; he had been a favourite with her stepmother, and this now became a passport to her father's goodwill. Nikolai had been guilty of much insolence to his young mistress during her time of humiliation; but he was a very cunning fellow and quite realised his present position. He played the part of the repentant sinner, throwing all the guilt on the stepmother, and blaming h

him in some haste and confusion out of the room. Her father was by no means as pleased to see her as she expected; he made haste to tell her that Nikolai was not to blame: "It is at my urgent wish," he said, "that he sometimes takes a seat at my bedside." "It is a pity you do that, father," she said; "you will spoil him altogether and be forced to turn him off; I know him better t

nds of reasonable politeness; she relied upon his intelligence, and also believed that he knew her determined character and would not venture to drive her to extremities. But the malicious Asiatic-this was the servants' name for him-was convinced beforehand that he would conquer, and tried to provoke Sofya Nikolayevna into some passionate outburst. Long ago he had been able to instill into his master the belief that the young lady could not endure her father's faithful servant and would certainly try to turn him out of the house. The invalid was horrified by this prospect, and solemnly declared that he would prefer death to such a deprivation. Sofya Nikolayevna tried to hint to her father in very gentle and affectionate terms that Nikolai forgot himself in his behaviour to her husband and neglected to carry out her orders; it seemed to be his intention to provoke her to anger. But her father became agitated and refused to listen: he said that he was perfectly satisfied with Nikolai, and begged her not to t

the rest she seldom saw, and was content to exchange formal calls with them. Her husband was acquainted already with everybody in the town; but his wife's intimate

a constant theme of the old man's thoughts and wishes; it troubled his peace of mind and stuck in his head like a nail. On receiving the good news from his son, Stepan Mihailovitch was full of happy hopes and convinced that the child would infallibly be a boy. His fam

nge the marriage, you can have your pick of the young men. Go and dress yourself, and come back at once." Aksyutka went out surprised and delighted; and Stepan Mihailovitch summoned Little Ivan to his presence. We have heard something of this man already; he was now twenty-four years old, with a complexion of lilies and roses, a very fine young fellow, both tall and stout. At the time of Pugatchoff's revolt, when the master himself took refuge with his family at Astrakhan, Ivan's father had been left in charge of the serfs at Bagrovo; and it was generally supposed that his death was due to overwork and anxiety at that time. He left two sons, both called Ivan, and this one was known as Little Ivan, to distinguish him from his elder brother, who inherited his father's nickname of Weasel. Little Ivan appeared before his master, "like a leaf before the grass."47 Stepan Mihailovitch looked at him with admiration, and then said in a voice so kind that the lad's heart leaped for joy, "Ivan, I mean to give you a wife." "Your will is law, batyushka Stepan Mihailovitch," answered the man, devoted body and soul to his master. "Well, go and dress yourself in your best, and come back to me in less than no time." Ivan flew off to do his master's bidding. Aksyutka was the first to reappear; she had smoothed her red hair and greased it with oi

n with so little refinement of manner could give verbal expression to such tender and delicate solicitude as breathed through the whole of this letter. He begged her and commanded her to be careful of her health, and sent her much a

fered in mind also, because her relations with her father became daily more humiliating and the insolence of Nikolai more unbearable. Alexyéi Stepanitch, who saw no danger in his wife's constant sufferings, and was told that the symptoms were quite natural and would soon pass away, though he was sorry for his wife, was not excessively put out; and this was another cause of distress to Sofya Nikolayevna.

a moment by his insolence. But she recovered immediately, and without a word to him rushed to her father's room, where, choking with wrath and excitement, she repeated the insulting words which had been said almost to her face by his favourite. Nikolai came in at her heels and would not let her finish her story. Feigning tears and crossing himself, he solemnly swore, that it was mere slander, that he had never said anything of the sort, and that it was wicked of Sofya Nikolayevna to ruin an innocent man! "You hear what he says, Sonitchka," said the invalid in a peevish voice. This was too much for Sofya Nikolayevna: stung to the quick, she forgot her magnanimous self-restraint and forgot also that she might kill her father with fright. She raised her voice with su

e and the daughter's devotion and forgetfulness of all her wrongs. And then, when she married, she had chosen her husband with this in view, and had stipulated that she should not be parted from her father! A

d never lost presence of mind and power of judgment in the trying hours of life. It may seem strange that Alexyéi Stepanitch could give moral support to Sofya Nikolayevna; but, for all her exceptional intelligence and apparent strength of will, the effect of a sudden shock to her feelings was to make her lose courage and become utterly bewildered. As an honest chronicler of oral tradition, I am bound to add that she was too sensitive to the opinion of society and paid it too much deference, in spite of her own superiority to the people among whom she lived. What would be said by people at Ufa, and

ayevna, they did at least by degrees make it possible for her to understand what was said. He told her that she had always done her duty as a loving daughter, and that she must continue to do it by falling in with her father's wishes. It was probably no sudden decision: her father might have wished for a long time that they should live apart. For a sick and dying man it was difficult or even impossible to part from the regular attendant who nursed him so faithfully. Stepan Mihailovitch must be told the whole truth; but to acquaintances it would be enough to say that her father had always intended to set up the young couple in a house of their own during his lifetime. She would be able to visit her father twice a day and attend to him almost as much as

after your marriage you could not live under the same roof as Nikolai. You are not able to judge him coolly, and I don't blame you for it: he sinned deeply against you in old days, and, though you forgave him, you were unable to forget his conduct. I know that he does not behave properly to you even now; but you take an exaggerated view of it all." At this point Sofya Nikolayevna tried to break in, but he stopped her and said: "Wait and hear to the end what I have to say. Let us suppose that he is as guilty as you take him to be: that makes it all the more impossible for you to live in the same house with him; but I cannot face parting from him. Have pity on my helpless and suffering condition. I am no longer a man, but a lifeless corpse; you know that Nikolai has to move me in bed t

s a touching and pitiful sight. He had grown much weaker; missing his daughter and blaming himself for her illness, he had suffered much by her absence. Their meeting gave happiness to both, but it cost them tears. He was especially grieved to see her so terribly thin and so altered in looks; but this was due, not so much to grief and illness as to her condition. The features of some women look different and even ugly during pregnancy; and Sofya Nikolayevna was a case in point. In course of time things settled down and her relations with her father became easy; Nikolai never ventured to appear when she was present. There was just one person who could not reconcile himself to the thought that she had left a dying father to settle in a house of her own; and that wa

noff was devoted to her brilliant and distinguished kinswoman. She used to pay secret visits to Sofya Nikolayevna during the time when she was persecuted and humiliated by her stepmother; and Sofya Nikolayevna, when her time of triumph and influence came, became the avowed benefactress of Mme. Cheprunoff. When they were alone together, Sofya Nikolayevna lavished caresses upon her unselfish and devoted kinswoman; but, when other people were present, the one was the great lady and the other the poor protégée who sold cakes in the streets. This treatment did not offend Mme. Cheprunoff: on the contrary, she insisted on it. She loved and admired her beautiful cousin with all her heart, and looked on her as a superior being, and would never have forgiven herself if she had thrown a shadow on the brilliant position of Sofya Nik

entions were current. But Alexyéi Stepanitch had spoken the truth: the real reason came out before long. This was due chiefly to Nikolai, who boasted among his fr

long, and this charm could not last for ever. In spite of her bad health and small means, Sofya Nikolayevna's clever hands made her little house as dainty as a toy. Taste and care are a substitute for money; and many of their visitors thought the furnishing splendid. The hardest problem was to arrange about their servants. Sofya Nikolayevna had brought two servants as part of her portion-a man named Theodore and a black-eyed maid called Parasha; these

er Niza. The cottage where Yevséitch was living stood right on the bank of this pool; and every day as I came up I saw him leaning against the angle of the cottage and facing the rising sun. He was bent and decrepit, and his hair had turned perfectly white; pressing a long staff to his breast, he leaned upon it with the knotted fingers of both hands, and turned his sightless eyes towards the sun's rays. Though he could not see the light, he could feel its warmth, so pleasant in th

o follow (and Sofya Nikolayevna, thanks to her reading of medical works, was extraordinarily ingenious in discovering ominous symptoms); to endure her reproaches and constant demands for those trifling services which a man can seldom render-all this was wearisome enough. Sofya Nikolayevna saw what he felt, and was deeply hurt. If she had found him in general incapable of deep feeling and strong passion, she would have reconciled herself sooner to her situation. She used often to say herself, "A man cannot give you what he has not got"; and she would have recognised the truth of the saying and submitted to her fate. But the misfortune was that she remembered the depth and ardour of her husband's passion in the days of his courtship, and believed that he might have continued to love her in the same fashion, had not something occurred to cool his feelings. This unlucky notion by degrees took hold of her imagination, and her ingenuity soon discovered many reasons to account for this coolness and much evidence of its truth. As to reasons-there was the hostile influence of his family, her own ill-health, and, worst of all, her loss of beauty; for her looking-glass forced upon her the sad change in her appearance. Her proofs were these-that her husband was not disquieted by her danger, took insufficient notice of her condition, did not try to cheer and interest her, and, above all, found more pleasure in talking to oth

se of the other sensitive and morbid, if hers were jarred by what had no effect upon his? The Chichagoffs alone understood the causes of this uncomfortable situation; and, though they received no confidences from either husband or wif

r. She herself, and her husband still more, would have preferred a son; but, when the mother pressed the child to her heart, she thought no more of any distinction between boy and girl. A passion of m

favourite, Praskovya Ivanovna Kurolyessova. His vexation over this disappointment was a touching and amusing sight. Even his womankind derived a little secret amusement from it. His good sense told him that he had no business to be angry with any one, but for a few days he could not control his feelings-so hard was it for him to give up the hope, or rather the certainty, that a grandson would be born, to continue the famous line of Shimon. In the expectation of the happy news, he had kept his family tree on his bed, ready any day to enter his grandson's name; but now he ordered this document to be hidden out of sight. H

s of body and mind had probably affected the child. The doctor would not allow her to nurse the child herself. Andréi Avenarius was the name of this doctor; he was a very clever, cultivated, and amiable man, an intimate friend of the young people and a daily visitor at their house. As soon as possible Sofya Nikolayevna took her baby to her father's house, hoping that it would please the invalid to see this mite, and that he would find in it a resemblance to his first wife. This resemblance was probably imaginary; for, in my opinion, it is impossible for a

in her heart that she would find the child ill. She left her husband perfectly free to spend his time as he liked. For some days he stopped at home; but his wife never stirred from the cradle and took no notice of him, except to turn him out of the little nursery, because she feared that twice-breathed air might hurt the baby. After this, he began to go out alone, till at last he went to some party every day; and he began to play cards to relieve his boredom. The Ufa ladies were amused at the sight of the deserted husband, and some of them flirted with him, saying that it was a charity to console the widower, and that Sofya Nikolayevna would thank them for it when she recovered from her maternal passion and reappeared in society. Sofya Nikolayevna did not hear of these good Samaritans till later; when she did, she was vexed. Mme. Cheprunoff, who came often to the house, watched Sofya Nikolayevna with astonishment, pity

denly. The cause of death was uncertain: it may have been too much care, or too much medicine, or too feeble a constitution; at any rate, the child succumbed, when four months old, to a very sligh

stion of her bodily strength was still alarming. For four days and nights she had neither eaten nor drunk, and now she could swallow no food nor medicine nor even water. Her condition was so critical that the doctors did not oppose her wish to make her confession and receive the sacraments. The performance of this Christian duty was beneficial to the patient: she slept for the first time, and, when she woke after two hours looking bright and happy, she told her husband that she had seen in her sleep a vision of Our Lady of Iberia, exactly as she was represented on the ikon of their parish church; and she believed that, if she could put her lips to this ikon, the Mother of God would surely have mercy on her. The image was brought from the church, and the priest read the service for the Visitation of the Sick. When the choir sang, "O mighty Mother of God, look down in mercy on my sore bodily suffering!"-all present fell on their knees and repeated the words of the pr

te danger but very ill, and that the doctors were baffled and prescribed a course of koumiss, he was exceedingly angry with the doctors: "Those bunglers murder our bodies," he said, "and defile our souls by making us swallow the drink of heathens. If a Russian is forbidden by his Church to eat horseflesh, then he has no b

hion tasted better, and was more effective; but Sofya Nikolayevna felt an unconquerable aversion to the horse-hide bag. When the doctor had laid down rules for the cure, he went back to Ufa, leaving Alexyéi Stepanitch, with Parasha and Annushka, in charge of the invalid. The air and the koumiss, of which small doses were taken at first; the daily drives with Alexyéi Stepanitch through the forest which surrounded the village-Yevséitch, who was now a favourite with Sofya Nikolayevna, acted as coachman; the woods, where the patient lay for whole hours in the cool shade on a leather mattress with pillows, breathing the fragrant air into her lungs, listening sometimes to an entertaining book, and often sinking into refreshing sleep-the whole life was so beneficial to Sofya Nikolayevna that in a fortnight she was able to get up and could walk about. When Avenarius came again he was delighted by the effect of the koumiss, and increased the doses; but, as the patient could not endure it in large quantities, he thought it necessary to prescribe vigorous exercise in the form of riding on horseback. For a Russian lady to ride was in those days a startling novelty: Alexyéi Stepanitch did not like it, and Sofya Nikolayevna herself was shocked by the notion. Their host's daughters presented an instructive example, for they constantly rode far and wide over the country on their Bashkir ponies; but Sofya Nikolayevna turned a deaf ear for long to all persuasions, and even to the entreaties of her husband, whom the doctor had speedily and completely convinced of the necessity of the exercise. At last the Chichagoffs came on a visit to Alkino, and Sofya

ar mountain streams round Alkino; and he went out sometimes to catch quails with a net. Theodore, Parasha's young husband, was a capital hand at this sport and could make pipes to decoy the birds. With sportsmen in general, netting for quails does not rank high; but really I do not know why they despise it. To lie on the fragrant meadow grass with your net hanging in front of you on the tall stalks; to hear the quails calling beside y

paid a third visit, he was entirely satisfied; and he had a perfect right to triumph; for he was the first to prescribe koumiss and directed t

ey were rash enough to mention in writing to him. His wife and daughters made use of this opportunity, and the sneering remarks, which they let fall on purpose in the course of conversation, worked him up to such a pitch that he wrote his son a rather offensive

ghter's wonderful recovery produced no sort of impression on him. All his earthly business was done, and all ties broke

andings, they passed unnoticed. When gold is in circulation, small change is of little importance. In exceptional circumstances and critical moments, nothing but gold passes; but the daily expenditure of uneventful life is mainly carried on with small change. Now Alexyéi Stepanitch, though he was not poor in gold, was often hard up for small change. When a man, if he sees distress and danger threatening the health and life of one whom he loves, himself suffers in every fibre of his being; when he forgets sleep and food and himself altogether; when the nerves are strung up and the moral nature uplifted-at such times there is no room for small exactions, no room for small services and attentio

urn to Ufa, this evil would probably have grown worse in the trivial, idle atmosphere of town life; but Sofya Nikolayevna's father was now actually dying, and his sad, suffering condition banished all other anxieties and monopolised his daughter's; thoughts and feelings. Obedient to the law of her moral nature, she gave herself up without reserves to her duty as a daughter. Thus the process which was unveiling every corner of their domestic life, was again brought to a standstill. Sofya Nikolayevna spent her days and nights with her father. Nikolai, as before, waited on his sick master,

d child might be a daughter, that Sofya Nikolayevna and the doctors between them might kill it too with too much love and too much medicine, and that the mother might lose her health over again; or perhaps Stepan Mihailovitch was like many other people, who deliberately prophesy calamities with a secret hope that fortune will reverse their prognostications. He pretended that he was not in the least glad, and said coolly: "No, no! I'm too old a bird to look at that chaff. When the

, and even happiness, at the moment of death. The face of the dying man lit up suddenly, and this expression remained long upon the features, though the eyes were shut and the body had grown cold. The funeral was a solemn and splendid ceremony. M. Zubin had once been very popular; but he had become forgotten by degrees, and sympathy for his suffering had become gradually we

brothers, who, before finishing their education at the Moscow boarding-school, were summoned to Petersburg to enter the Guards. I forgot to menti

essed in simple words his sympathy with her loss and his fear that she might again injure her own health by excess of grief, she sent a very reassuring letter in reply; and she did in fact attend carefully to her bodily health and composure of mind. A regular but not monotonous plan of life was laid down. The two doctors, Klauss-who was becoming very intimate with the Bagroffs-and Avenarius, made her go out every day before dinner, and sometimes on foot; and each evening they had an unceremonious party of pleasant people at home, or went out themselves, generally to the Chichagoffs' house. Mme. Chichagoff's brothers became great friends of the Bagroffs, especially the younger, Dm

l it was six versts across. The whole of this expanse could be clearly seen from the windows of the Bagroffs' little house; their orchard burst into leaf and flower, and the f

ider; every ten or fifteen versts they found fresh horses, guarded by soldiers of Timásheff's regiment; he was very popular with his men. Thus the fugitives flew along "on the wings of love," as a poet of that day would infallibly have said. Meanwhile Salmé's absence was quickly noticed: her passion for Timásheff had long been suspected, and a strict watch was kept over her movements. A band of armed Tatars assembled instantly, and followed the enraged father51 and brothers in furious pursuit of the lovers, uttering fierce shouts and threats of vengeance. They took the right track and would probably have captured the fugitives-at any rate blood would have been spilt, because a number of soldiers, eagerly interested in the affair, were posted at different points along the road-had not the pursuit been delayed by a stratagem. The bridge over a deep and dangerous river was broken down behind the lovers; and the Tatars were forced to swim across, and thus lost some two hours. Even so, the boat which carried Timásheff and Salmé across the Byélaya under the walls of Ufa, had hardly reached mid-stream, when the old Tatar galloped up to the bank, attended by his sons and half of his faithful company; the other half had stopped when their horses fell dead under them. A whole regiment of Russian soldiers were in possession of all the punts and ferry-boats, on the pretence of crossing to the town. The unhappy father gnashed his teeth in fury, cursed his daughter, and rode off home. Half dead with weariness and fear, Salmé was placed in a carriage and taken to the house of Timásheff's mother. The affair now assumed a legal and official character: here was a Mahometan woman asking of her own free will to be received into the Christian Church, and the authorities of the town took her under their protection, informed the mufti, who lived at Ufa and was always called "the Tatar bi

ds also, and especially the doctors who felt a strong personal attachment for her, kept such a close watch on Sofya Nikolayevna that she could neither take a step nor swallow a morsel or drink a drop without their permission. As Avenarius had to leave the town on some official business, it fell on Klauss, who was the other leading lady's doctor at Ufa, to undertake the personal supervision of her health. Klauss was a German, a very kind man, clever and well-educated, but singularly grotesque in his appearance. Though he was still of middle age, he wore a bright yellow wig; and people asked where he could have got human hair of a colour never beheld on any human head; his eyebrows also were yellowish, and

dréyevna, paid him a visit at Bagrovo. He let her see more than others of his main anxiety, that he might have another grand-daughter; and she told him that, when passing through Moscow, she had gone to Trinity Church there, to say her prayers to St. Sergius; and there she heard that some well-known lady, the mother of several daughters, had taken a vow that if her next child was a boy, it should be christened Serghéi; and she did give birth to a son before the year was out. Stepan Mihailovitch said nothing at the time; but he wrote a letter himself to his son and daughter-in-law by the next post, expressing his desire that they should say prayers in church to St. Sergi

kfast every morning, and again for tea, which he drank with rum in it, in the evening; then he played cards with husband and wife; and, as the stakes were too small to buy cards with, the prudent German procured some used packs which he brought with him. Reading sometimes took the place of cards, and Klauss was present on th

care of herself in all possible ways. Her mind and her thoughts were so entirely concentrated upon this one object that she noticed nothing else and was, apparently, quite satisfied with her husband, though it is probable that things happened which might have made her dissatisfied. The more Alexyéi Stepanitch got to know his wife, the more she surprised him. He was a man singularly unable to appreciate excessive display of feeling, or to sympathise with it, from whatever object it arose. Thus his wife's power of passionate devotion frightened him; he dreaded it, just as he used to dread his father's furious fits of anger. Excessive feeling always produces an unpl

vening; and if the doctor won 60 kopecks53 from his hosts, he was much pleased, and said that his driver would not cost him much that day. The 19th passed off with no change. On the 20th, when Klauss came in the morning, Sofya Nikolayevna stood at her bedroom door and greeted him with a curtsey. He got very angry: "Monster!" he said, "you are treating me abominably"; but he kissed as usual the hand she held out to him. "It is too bad, Alexyéi Stepanitch," he went on; "your wife is ruining me. Her baby ought to have been born on the 15th, and here she is, dropping curtseys on the 20th!" "Never mind, my dear fellow," said Alexyéi Stepanitch, patting him on the shoulder; "you must rob us at cards to-night. But the packs are nearly worn out." Klauss promised to bring a new pack; he lunched there, and, after sitting on till two o'clock, took his leave. He called again at six in the evening, punctual to the minute. Finding no one in the hall, or parlour, or drawing-room, he tried to get into the bedroom, but the door was locked; he knocked, and it was opened by Mme. Cheprunoff. The doctor went in and stood dumb with ast

gs straight, we meant to send for your Honour, but Sofya Nikolayevna said you would be here at once." The worthy man soon recovered from his vexation; tears of joy started to his eyes; he caught hold of the infant in his practised hands and began to examine it by the candle-light, turning it round and feeling it till it squalled loudly. Then he thrust a finger into its mouth, and, when the infant began to suck lustily, the doctor was pleased and called out, "How fine and healthy he is, the little Turk!" Sofy

e letter for his sister Aksinya, begging her to come as soon as possible and stand godmother to his son. Before the doctor had time to dry himself, the happy father embraced him till he nearly choked him; he had already exchanged

court. Some who never drank at other times now took a drop too much; and one of these was Yevséitch. They found it impossible to control him: he was always begging to go to his mistress's bedroom to see the

took leave of his happy host and hostess. He kissed the baby's hand, promised to call early the next morning, and went off to spend the night at his own house. As he passed through the court, he saw the dancing, and the sound of singing came from every window of the kitchen and servants' quarter. He stood still; and, though he was sor

parents lived in peace together during those halcyon days; a foster-mother was found for him who proved to be more devoted than most real mothers; he was the answer to prayers and

d of travelling was new, and Stepan Mihailovitch disapproved of it as a foolish waste of money and an unnecessary tax on the country people. He preferred to use his own horses; but the importance and solemnity of this occasion made him depart from his regular practice. Fortune did not keep him in suspense too long: on the 22nd of September, when

desk, snatched from it the family tree, took the pen from the ink-bottle, drew a line from the circle containing

and women, and your inward and outward life was not mere dull prose, but as interesting and instructive to us as we and our life in turn will be interesting and instructive to our descendants. You were actors in that mighty drama which mankind has played on this earth since time immemorial; you played your parts as conscientiously as others,

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re fascinating the more one reads and thinks about it. Aksakoff read a new and ecstatic meaning into things which are banal and tame t

in the ranks of the great masters of his nation by instinctively obeying the precept that men of letters should look in their own hearts an

slation of 'A Family History,' which carries on the narrative of Aksakoff's life and gives some account of his family. In

rare charm.

reader. Let us hope that the other portion of these memoirs will appear without d

le; for reminiscences, especially of childhood, do not usually have the sort of interest that a novel has, however vivid they may be.... The fact is, Aksakoff succeeded in solving perhaps the hardest problem in literature,-the problem of working a child's consciousness a

vised, it is good to be able to put the hand on one superlatively good book. Here is a refreshment for tired eyes and ti

richness and novelty.

EDWARD