Chapter C: Hagberg Wright (3)

Mimotchka lies on the opposite sofa, gracefully resting her pretty head on her hand. She likes lying there, and thinks it a great deal nicer than in her own bed at home. There, when she had suffered so much from sleeplessness, she had been surrounded by such absolute stillness and silence from without, that she had felt all in a disturbance and tumult within. Everything in her had seemed to tremble, beat, knock, and shake. What exhaustion and what torments she had endured! But here, on the contrary, here all the noise and disturbance are from without, and that is what acts beneficially on her. She likes the whistling and ringing, the shaking and swaying of the sofa, the noise of the wheels, the jarring of the window-panes, and the rattling of the cinders in the ashpan. All these chaotic sounds soothe her and lull her to sleep. She enjoys lying there, and thinks about her new dresses. What hat shall she wear with her _mousse_ gown? She is taking five hats with her, but none of them quite suits with the _mousse_ gown; perhaps the blue flowers might be taken out of the black hat, and pale pink flowers and _mousse_ ribbon put in instead. And Mimotchka thinks over the hat. But what is really perfect, indisputably perfect, is--her riding-habit. She has never had a bodice in her life that fits her like that. It's a dream! When the riding-habit had been brought home from Tedeschi's and Spiridon Ivanovitch had seen the bill, he had grumbled at the expense, and she had cried. How stupid she had been! What was there to cry about when the bodice fitted so divinely? But who would she ride with? Variashski would be there. She liked him very much. He was so tall and had such a good figure. He had said, "I will see that you are not dull." Perhaps they would be neighbours. They would become better acquainted. It doesn't matter about his being a doctor. He has his rank of general,[10] just the same as Spiridon Ivanovitch. They would get intimate and ride together. No doubt he rides Well. He ...

[10] In Russia, as in Germany and Austria, the civil service is divided into ranks like the military service.

And Mimotchka, closing her eyes, clearly sees the figure of Doctor Variashski; by degrees the figure begins to look at her from the back of the velvet sofa, from the looking-glass door, from the shaking windows, covered with their blue blinds, and from the ceiling with its glimmering, shaded light. And either the influence of her doctor's image, or her confidence in him, but anyhow something makes Mimotchka fall asleep, fall asleep without chloral or valerian, and she sees in her dreams the figure of Doctor Variashski.

Vava is more wakeful than any of them. She has no desire to sleep. She would like even now to be standing at the open window, inhaling the night breezes and watching how thicket after thicket vanishes, how the lights gradually appear in the open, and how the stars are beginning to shine in the heavens. But she had given her word of honour to be obedient, and so her aunt had hardly hinted that it was time to go to sleep when Vava at once climbed up into her bed. Now she is sorry to be lying down here. She finds it stuffy and dull; besides which she has to lie very quiet so as not to wake mamma and Mimotchka. Vava is glad that she is going to the Caucasus, and chiefly glad to be going alone; for Vava considers that she is going alone. She knows that mamma and Katia will be so taken up with Mimotchka and her comforts that they will not have any time left for her. She will be free. And for her that is the chief thing: to be free and in the open air the whole day long. What happiness!

There she will walk about the mountains and the forests without any French or English governess at her side to poison her pleasure. It will be warm there, it will be a beautiful place: there will be mountains, verdure, and sunshine.... There will be fresh people, fresh acquaintances. Perhaps there she will at last see and get to know those great and good people whom she so longs and so looks forward to meeting with. People like Washington, Cromwell, William Tell, Joan of Arc, or the mother of the Gracchi.... It is impossible that such people should not exist. If they were to be found in history it proved that they really had existed, and so such people must still exist. Only she has not met them. But that was because it had so happened. And she will yet meet with them, because she so wishes, so longs to become acquainted with them, to live in their intimacy, to learn of them, to raise herself to their level.... She will never believe that the whole world is only inhabited by people like her family's acquaintances. Oh! those acquaintances! How can anyone live in such a senseless, stupid fashion! If they were not sometimes roused from their apathy by avarice, envy, and vanity they would probably go to sleep altogether, and never wake again. And the majority of those she knows lead this sort of life, such a mean, empty, aimless, senseless existence. This is how her mother, sister, and aunts live.... They laugh at her, they call her odd, queer, and fantastic because she longs for something different, for something nobler and worthier. She understands that she must seem unbearable to them, but she cannot consider herself to blame.... Her father--he is not like all the rest; he, the darling, is good. He is clever and kind, and how kind he is to her! If it were not for him she would most likely have run away long ago. Her father is a splendid man! But still he is afraid.... Yes, he is afraid of his wife and her sisters, and gives way to them. Why?... He almost seems to want to make himself appear like one of them, and when he does show the best side of his nature he does it in a joking sort of way, as if he were laughing at himself and excusing himself to them. Why? Who does he give way to, who is he afraid of? Why not make them do as he chooses and follow him? How different it would all be if people were only bold, firm, and strong!... But those whom she knows are all alike--

"They are ashamed to own their love, they thrust
thought aside,
And are ready to barter their free will ...

But still it is impossible that there should not be any genuine people in the world. Only she has not met with them. Perhaps there are hardly any in their circle. But still the world is wide, and somewhere there are simple, honest, labour-loving, healthy people; energetic, disinterested, large-minded men; tender, self-denying, patient women....

Of course Vava will get to know such people. They will teach her, and will explain away all her doubts. She has so many doubts! She had had an idea of writing to Count Leo Tolstoy, but she was ashamed to. And afterwards, when she heard that one of her friends had written to him, she didn't like it at all, and was very glad that she had not carried out her idea. As if every little beetle could venture to trouble such a sun I No, you must think out things for yourself, and make yourself worthy of the friendship of great and good people. And she will try to; yes, she will try....

She thinks that just there where she is going, where there are mountains and eagles, where nature itself is wonderful, there she will find these great and good people. There everything will be beautiful. There will be no affectations, no empty talk; her mother will not be there, with her cold inimical glance, nor her brother with his joking and mocking, nor her sister, that living fashion-plate.... But suddenly finding herself judging her relations, Vava, as usual, is horrified at her own wickedness and malice, and at once begins praying earnestly to God, that He would forgive her all her sins, both the sin of judging her relations and the terrible sin of not loving her mother; that He would somehow help her to bear everything and prepare her for life; that He would sustain her and not forsake her, and would give her strength and health both of soul and body. And with prayer on her lips and in her thoughts, thin, black-haired Vava goes to sleep on her perch above mamma, who is snoring regularly, and pale, ethereal Mimotchka.

On the third day the ladies arrived safely at Rostoff, where they had to change carriages. In spite of the comfort with which they had travelled, they were very tired. And both Vava and Mimotchka, seated at the table awaiting the breakfast they had ordered, looked so out of sorts and depressed that it was not difficult to recognise in them patients for Jeleznovodsk. Mimotchka was so tired that she had not even strength to raise her smelling-salts to her nose. And leaning against the wall, she gazed apathetically at the row of bottles with their gaudy tickets ranged in front of her. The pug lay by her side, and, its tongue hanging out of its mouth, breathed hard. Vava also no longer looked out for Washington or the mother of the Gracchi among the crowd. ... Her head ached, her temples throbbed, and she could hardly see out of her eyes, besides which, instead of Washington and the mother of the Gracchi, she saw close to her on one side a lady with a shaking head, whom she recognised from seeing in Dr. Merjeffsky's waiting-room, and on the other, a boy with St. Vitus's dance, who alternately put out his tongue and made strange contortions with his body.

In fact, the majority of the public were already talking of the proximity of the waters, this pool of Siloam towards which the sick and suffering flock from all parts of Russia.... Pale, hysterical ladies, paralytics, yellow-faced, gloomy-looking patients for Essentouki, invalids of every kind and description from Piatigorsk, all these moved or sat about in the dusty, grimy waiting-room, resting and eating while they waited for the train.

Now someone was brought in, carried on a stretcher. Mimotchka closed her eyes. Good heavens! is it possible that they will have to bear the sight of such horrors the whole summer? Better die at once than continue this dreadful journey.

But suddenly, amidst this ill-favoured, nondescript crowd, there came into the room, from the town entrance, an elegantly dressed man of about thirty-five, whose appearance attracted general attention. He was followed by an enormous black retriever and a porter carrying a handsome portmanteau and a railway rug strapped up and fastened with beautiful new straps. The young man came to the table at which Vava and Mimotchka were seated, carelessly paid the porter, carelessly ordered something to eat for himself and something for his dog of the insinuating waiter, sat down to the table, and, without dropping his eyeglass, rapidly glanced at Vava and Mimotchka, then took off his eyeglass and again, but this time more fixedly and attentively, looked at Mimotchka.

She had never expected to meet such a fine gentleman in that stuffy, dingy waiting-room, amongst all those deformities, and was sorry that she had not taken more pains to freshen and beautify herself. Vava began, openly and rather loudly, admiring the dog, while Mimotchka examined the dog's master's pale face, with its beautiful dark eyes, and all the details of his perfect toilet.

Mamma, who had been rushing about settling Katia, came back, panting from the heat and fatigue, and sat down by the side of them. Breakfast was brought to the ladies; Mimotchka unwillingly put up her veil: she thought she must be looking awful; but she was mistaken, and of this she was at once assured by a glance from the black eyes that rested so admiringly on her. Mimotchka felt more cheerful than she had for a long time, and from that moment her journey appeared to her in a perfectly different light. It was certainly rather a bore, but still it was something fresh, and a change from the monotonous, everyday Petersburg life.

Mamma began talking, and so he learned that her name Was Mimotchka, and that she was going to the Caucasus. And he? Where is he going? Perhaps also to the springs?... He is pale, and something in his look at the corners of his mouth tells of weariness, if not of suffering.... And he is thin, his cheeks are even rather sunken.... Poor fellow, he is ill too, he also suffers.... And he is so handsome, so handsome.... And what eyes! His breakfast was now also brought to him and he began eating, while Mimotchka, secretly continued her observations. Everything about him--his way of eating and sitting, and the way his hair was done, and his dress--showed a man belonging to good society.

Meanwhile Vava had already stroked the dog and was about to give him half her chicken, but mamma looked at her so imploringly, that she sent away the dog and assumed her most decorous and sedate expression. The Newfoundland, turning about round her, and offended at her sudden indifference, went up to the pug and tried to make acquaintance. But when Monitchka awoke and saw such a monster near her, she was horribly frightened, trembled all over her little body, and began to growl and bark furiously. The young man called off the Newfoundland, and the ladies found out that the dog's name was Rex. Then they all went on with their breakfast; but Mimotchka felt as if something had brought her nearer to the young man--very likely the fact of their sharing the same table, the same outspread tablecloth, on which stood a plate of bread and a decanter of water also for them both in common, or else because they were both so young, so handsome and elegant, and so different from all the countrified landowners and dishevelled, tumbled--looking provincials, with their cigarettes in their mouths, who surrounded them. They breakfasted, and their eyes often met and said something to each other. He had large, dark eyes; she had eyes like a Madonna.

Mimotchka got brighter and brighter. The fatigue and slight headache, the clinking of glasses, the scraping of feet, and the talk of the motley crowd, all this was something new, the beginning of something.... And the time till the departure of the train flew by imperceptibly.

The ladies took their places in the ladies' compartment, and he got into the next carriage, so that Mimotchka had only to look out at the window to see him also looking out of his window.

And now again the train flies on, flies through the green steppes with their many-coloured spring flowers. In the ladies' compartment, besides our ladies, there was a lady from Moscow, with whom mamma at once made acquaintance. The lady, although she came from Moscow, knew half Petersburg, and mamma and she soon found that they had many friends and even relations in common. The lady had been in the Caucasus and was able to give mamma a great deal of valuable information about hotels, lodgings, laundresses, &c. And mamma, in her turn, told her all about Mimotchka's illness, about her fainting fits and sleeplessness, while the Moscow lady, glancing at Mimotchka, who was now looking quite rosy and bright, and laughing and chattering like a child with Vava, did not know whether mamma was making fun of her or not.

At every station _he_ got out and walked up and down in front of their carriage, looking at Mimotchka, who either gazed at the sky or the station. And how this shortened the journey! Now he had taken off his hat and wore a travelling cap, which suited him even better. Vava soon noticed his ways and said to Mimotchka--

"The Adonis seems to be airing himself for your benefit. What stupid shoes he wears!"

Mimotchka took his part, saying that the shoes were all right, and that she had seen some just like them worn by a French actor at his benefit; very likely they were the fashion....

When the evening drew near Vava went off to her favourite post at the open window to see the sunset.... And standing there, watching the rosy and lilac clouds changing their shape with every moment, and the wide, green steppe, Vava felt arise within her a feeling which often took possession of her, a flood of love towards God and man. She would have liked to enfold the whole world, the whole of mankind, in her embrace as brothers and give them light and warmth; she longed to do great deeds, to sacrifice herself, to accomplish some good work, not narrow, like that beaten track with the rails laid down, but wide, unlimited, boundless as the steppe, as the heavens, as the sea, as joy, even as love itself!... The pale young moon already detached itself against the darkening sky. The sun had disappeared. With its setting the steppe had changed and was now covered with floating shadows. The world of spirits, the world of dreams awoke. Vava watched the young moon and called to mind the books about spiritualism she had lately read. Is there any truth in it or not? How do souls live after they are separated from their bodies? Where are they? Why and how do they live? Do they see us? Do they pity us? Do our sufferings seem so small to them? Life and death.... How many mysteries, how many enigmas there are in nature! Is there anyone who knows everything, everything, or even a great deal, like Goethe's Faust did? And is it well to know so much, to understand everything, to see everything, to find the key to all mysteries, or is it better to be as she is and not know anything, but to feel a sense of happiness due only to her youth, to her heart overflowing with love, to the beauty of the steppe and the young moon?...

Mamma and the lady from Moscow went on talking incessantly. They could not quite recollect who Mdme. Verevkine's daughter by her first marriage, the one who had been previously engaged to Mestchersky, the brother-in-law of a mutual lady friend of theirs, had married.... Mimotchka did not remember either.... And Vava did not know.... Then mamma began enumerating to the lady all the things she was taking with her. Mamma was of the opinion that if you went abroad you need take very little with you, because abroad you could get everything everywhere. But in Russia, and especially in the provinces, it was impossible to get anything anywhere; so that you had to set out well provided. Mimotchka sat at the open window, looked at the young moon, and also indulged in dreams. Who could _he_ be? Who is he? Whereto and wherefore is he travelling? She had noticed that he wore a wedding-ring.[11] Why does he look at her so? Has she taken his fancy?... How? By her beauty? But she has so gone off lately. Still she looks interesting to-day. She saw her reflection in the glass opposite and was astonished at herself. There is something in the expression of her eyes and about her complexion that beautifies her. Well, so much the better. Let him walk up and down if he likes, she will not prevent him. She does not respond to his glances, only perhaps very slightly and quite involuntarily. Anyhow there is no harm in it.... Where can he be going? And who is he? And Mimotchka gazed at the new moon, and the sparks flew past her like a golden rain, and the wind played with her fair curls. Mamma wanted to put up the window, but Mimotchka said it was too early yet and would be stuffy in the carriage.

[11] Russian married men wear wedding-rings as well as women.

It was quite dark, and Vava, mamma, and the lady from Moscow were already asleep when Mimotchka put her head out of the window for the last time. The station was like all the other stations. A little two-storied wooden house, with a bell attached to it, and with lit-up windows, from which, behind the pots of geraniums and balsams, the station-master's untidy wife in a pink cotton dress looked out. The flickering light of the lamp lit up the dark platform, on which the motionless figures of the peasants stood staring stupidly at the train; the gendarme also stood motionless; the guard went past the carriage. Some one greeted the station-master. Ah, there he is! He isn't asleep yet. He again passed close to the carriage in which Mimotchka was seated, and this time he came so near and looked into her eyes so expressively that Mimotchka got frightened and pulled up the window. And the train sped along further. Mimotchka lay down to sleep, but she was disturbed and felt dissatisfied with herself, with him, and with everybody. Why did he look at her in that manner? It was impertinent.... How could he dare to? what did he take her for? She admitted /that she herself was perhaps rather to blame; but why shouldn't she amuse herself a little on the journey? Of course in Petersburg she would never have allowed herself to do anything of the kind. How he looked at her, how he looked at her, to be sure! But anyhow he had beautiful eyes! She thought she had never seen such eyes. Well, now, enough of him--better forget all about him. Nobody will ever be the wiser, and he does not know who she is. To-morrow they will go off in different directions, and perhaps never see each other again.... It's time to go to sleep.

And Mimotchka turned the cushion and covered herself over with the wrapper. But the sofa was uncomfortable, and the carriage felt stuffy and smelt of smoke and coal. In vain she sniffed at her _sel de vinaigre_ and counted out some drops of valerian--she only fell asleep when the carriage blinds began to whiten with the coming dawn.

And now at last the long journey is over. Vava is already gazing at the mountains, which the lady from Moscow names to her: Beshtau, Razvalka, and Jeleznaia.

The guard collects the tickets. The hand-baggage is strapped up. Mimotchka yawns; she has slept badly, and is not in good spirits. She feels as if she would like to die. The train stops at the station of the Mineral Waters, Which is buried in a garden full of white acacias.

Good heavens, what a lot of passengers are getting out here! Will there be carriages enough? And how sweet the white acacia smells! What a sky! What fresh, pure air! Mamma hastily bids good-bye to the lady from Moscow, who is going on further, and loads three porters with the hand-baggage. Vava tries to make herself useful, finds Katia, and looks after the things; Mimotchka envelops herself in a thick veil and goes into the ladies' room. She feels very out of sorts, and still thinks she would like to die. She is aching all over, and tears of weakness almost choke her. She is rather ashamed of yesterday's exchange of glances. Only think, a son age, dans sa position!... And besides, who knows who and what he is? She really had not seen him thoroughly well. It was all the darkness and her imagination. Perhaps he had been boasting in the carriage, although he has really nothing to boast about. And after all she does not care! And Mimotchka, without turning her head, crosses the room where the people are sitting and drinking tea; but even without looking she sees that he is differently dressed. And how pale he looks; he is really not nearly as handsome as she had thought yesterday.... Of course it was all owing to the darkness and her imagination.

A carriage is found and brought up, the things are put in it, and the ladies and Katia take their places inside.

"All right, drive on!"

The carriage rolls on through the green steppe and over the soft country road. In the heavens the larks are carolling. Other carriages overtake our ladies. Here is the lady with the shaking head and there is the boy with the St. Vitus's dance.... And here, passing all the others, another carriage flies along, in which _he_ is seated, _he_ "l'homme au chien," as Mimotchka calls him. He is wearing another hat, the third since yesterday, and at his feet, stretched out full length, lies the beautiful Newfoundland dog.

They follow him and then turn to the right. Why? Then they will not be together, they won't meet? Then their acquaintance has really come to an end? Where is he going? Mimotchka will not on any account inquire. Perhaps mamma will help her. Precisely so; mamma asks the driver:

"Where does that road lead to?"

"To Piatigorsk."

"Then we shall not pass by Piatigorsk?"

"And Jeleznovodsk--is it yet in sight?" asks Vava.

"There it is."

And the driver points with his whip to a little white hamlet nestling at the foot of the green mountain.

Presently the carriage enters a green grove of oaks and birch-trees. They all inhale the pure morning air delightedly. Vava throws back her head and looks for the larks in the sky....

Mamma sympathises with her; mamma also loves nature, loves forests and groves. Mimotchka doesn't understand it. She only likes trees round where the music plays, and then only when they stand in tubs and are kept in nice order, and no spiders, chrysalides, or other nasty things fall off them. At length, after passing the post-office, the carriage stops at the entrance of Mitroff's Hotel. Thank God, they have arrived!

"What a funny little place Jeleznovodsk is!" says Mimotchka. "Quite a country village!"

Three weeks have passed. Mimotchka had not felt dull. Mimotchka had improved in looks and was blooming. One day followed another in accordance with the regular, fixed _régime._ At seven o'clock Mimotchka and Vava got up, and at eight they were already at the morning music, where they drank the waters and walked up and down till breakfast-time. Afterwards a bath, then middle-day dinner, and again waters and more walking up and down, and again music and waters and walking up and down, and so on until the evening, when they went to bed tired out and slept like dead men.

Doctor Variashski, who had arrived at Jeleznovodsk a couple of days before them, met them very amiably; he recommended them apartments, he found them a man-cook, and he also recommended them a doctor for Vava, a specialist for nervous illnesses. He advised Mimotchka to ride on horseback, and offered to accompany her himself on her rides.

And all this was the more agreeable to mamma, because she believed in Variashski as firmly as she did in the Almighty!

And how conscientiously Mimotchka followed out her cure! Mamma watched it so strictly, that if at the spring they accidentally poured out a little more than half a tumbler of water for Mimotchka, she made them throw it all away and fill it up again.... As if it were possible to allow it! If you made a cure you must do it properly. The waters were not to be trifled with....

And this conscientious cure greatly benefited Mimotchka. She had a pretty colour in her cheeks and her eyes shone brighter and more joyfully.... She did not get tired so soon, and both slept and ate better.

From the second evening after their arrival our ladies showed themselves daily at the music, where they at once attracted attention by the elegance of their toilettes and general appearance. Mamma found the society dreadful. The ladies looked like bakers' or farmers' wives, and the men were even worse. There was hardly any one from Petersburg, and nobody at all whom they knew. At first mamma only exchanged salutes with Variashski and an old maiden lady from Petersburg, who was there for the third summer with her brother, who had lost the use of his legs. The old maid felt quite at home, and seemed to think herself superior to everyone, for she held herself very proudly. She knew all the doctors, their wives, their histories, and their gossip.... And although in mamma's eyes the doctors' wives were as bad as the bakers' and farmers' wives, still she examined them with some interest through her eyeglass while listening to Mdlle. Kossovitch's tales.

Vava sat stiffly and obediently by mamma's side, but still kept a lookout for Washington and William Tell, in case they should be passing among the crowd, and, not finding them, amused herself Watching the games of the children playing in the circle round them.

Mimotchka smiled up at Doctor Variashski while she looked out for _him,_ l'homme au chien. But he was not there.

He only showed himself at the music two weeks after their arrival, when Mimotchka had already left off expecting him and had almost forgotten him. And he appeared in the society of the most dreadful ladies. Beside the bakers' wives and the doctors' wives and all the other provincials, there were also actresses at the springs. There was almost the entire company from the Kieff theatre. Among the actresses there was a certain Mdlle. Lenskaia, a very pretty light comedy actress, and with her her sister, who was not an actress, but who was also decidedly pretty. Both sisters were always showily dressed, and wore very light colours; they were always very lively and always surrounded by men. Every new arrival at Jeleznovodsk followed in their train for the first few days, but afterwards, when he had settled down and looked about, he generally found other acquaintances and hardly even bowed to the sisters; but still as there were fresh arrivals every day, they were never left without cavaliers. Well, it was with them that he appeared at the music. He was giving his arm to the eldest Lenskaia (not the actress), who was smiling more gaily than ever and showing her beautiful white teeth. They were followed by the younger Lenskaia and an actress named Morozoff, surrounded by a crowd of young men. In front of them all walked Rex. His master was again quite differently dressed, and wore a light suit and a hat with a white veil round it, but there was still the same _cachet_ of elegance about him. Vava called the dog loudly by its name, which made _him_ look round and recognise the ladies. But he only glanced at them rapidly and then immediately began whispering something to his companion. Then the whole party seated themselves in a semi-circle close by Mimotchka, to whom it was extremely unpleasant.

What sort of a man could he be to find pleasure in such society?... From the very first Mimotchka had thought Mdlle. Lenskaia's sister perfectly disgusting. She is pretty, certainly; but what a creature!... And what horrid-looking eyes she has--so watery and with ugly, dark circles round them. And her hands are not good. And how vulgarly she dresses! what a mixture of colours! And Rex lies at her feet, and she strokes his head with her ungloved hand, and laughs and beams with pleasure because _he_ is evidently saying something flattering, amiable, and agreeable to her.

Mimotchka felt hurt. She was sitting there alone near mamma and Mdlle. Kossovitch, who went on talking. Vava had gone off with a new acquaintance to her gymnastics. Variashski was not at the music; nor were there any officers of her husband's division there. And she had to sit alone and look at the mountains she was so tired of and at that improper set of people.

That evening she returned home in very low spirits; she even felt ready to cry. No doubt she had over-walked herself that day, or else it was the "reaction."

By the morning, however, her vexation had passed. It even seemed to her ridiculous to have so taken to heart the indifference of a man who was a perfect stranger to her. She doesn't want anyone. Is she looking out for an admirer? Good gracious, if she only liked, ... why she could have the whole division at her feet, and not only officers either, but others besides. Isn't she pretty? At any rate she is as good-looking as those actresses in their many-coloured dresses.

And what does she care about them? what does it all matter to her? She has come here for her cure. She likes being here alone without Spiridon Ivanovitch and without baby. She feels as if she were a girl again, a free, young creature. She knows that her toilettes are the best here, and that she herself is prettier than anyone. She can read it in the glances of the men and women she meets.... And that is all she requires.

She continued to drink the water conscientiously, occupied herself with her toilettes and her appearance, and when she met him (he had now settled at Jeleznovodsk) she looked at him with no more interest than if he were a lamp-post. But, without paying the least attention to him, she always saw how he was dressed, who he was with, what humour he was in, and how he looked at her....

Vava, in the meantime, was in the seventh heaven. She went out alone. Mamma had not actually given her permission, but she winked at it. In the morning Vava went with Mimotchka to the music, but as soon as Doctor Variashski, or one of the officers of Spiridon Ivanovitch's division came up, Vava fled, and in a few minutes she was somewhere in the forest, in the thickly wooded paths or high up among the rocks, over which she clambered like a goat. She had her favourite corners for every hour of the day. She knew from where there was the best view of the sunset, where it was coolest at midday, and where it was warmest in the early morning.... Vava was not afraid of snakes, nor of the great tarantula spiders; she pushed her way through the heart of the forest, through the thick, high grass and nettles of the steppe, and came home with her shoes torn to pieces, her face and hands covered with scratches, burrs and grass sticking to her hair, and earwigs and caterpillars on her clothes and on her dress.... Katia, by mamma's order, had to dress her afresh and put her to rights, and Vava said laughingly that she only thoroughly enjoyed those walks which bore witness of her communion with nature. The mornings Vava generally spent up in the mountains. There, before you came to the top, was a little plateau, overgrown with wild hollyhocks and filbert bushes, where Vava lay among the grass or sat on a stone and gazed at Mount Beshtau, at the blue valleys, and at little Jeleznovodsk nestling under the mountains, with its clean white houses, and the gold cross shining on its church, and from where you could even hear the cocks crowing and the dogs barking.... And on the left, from the tufts of green trees, came the sounds of the orchestra playing the waltz "Bygone Days." There they were going round, those invalids that Vava knew so well, strolling about and meeting and greeting and looking at each other. Vava looked around her and thought that here also there was bustle and music. A chorus of crickets chirped the waltzes; the ants worked on busily and anxiously just like the doctors with their prey or without it.... And the lady-birds, beetles, caterpillars, butterflies and bees were the public. Vava thought it much nicer to be at this music than at the music below. Here she could lie on the grass and she was so happy, so happy! The sun warmed her chilly body, and in her soul there was such peace and joy as she had never known at home. Here she was with God I And she experienced a full sense of blessedness without anything to mar it. From afar she even loved her mother. When she thought of her she pictured her in the most sympathetic colours.... Active, judicious, careful, although severe.... And Vava dreamt of a time when they would understand each other better and become friends, and Vava would show that there really was some good in her ...? Her brother would marry and leave his family, her sister would also marry, although Zina always said that she Would only marry a man with a title.... Still somebody with a title might perhaps be found ... And Vava would remain at home alone with her father and mother.... Then most likely life would be easier for her and everything would come right. And meanwhile she is quite content to be here. She does not feel either lonely or unhappy. The sun's caresses warm her, the wood is full of sounds of life, the bees hum on "the white acacia, bending beneath the weight of its flowers.... The butterflies circle in the air.... And Vava is so happy, that she feels with all her soul that there is no creature on God's earth entirely forsaken, forgotten, and miserable.... And, lying on the grass, she looks at the heavens, while over her head a great eagle soars calmly up, as if carrying on his broad wings her dreams, her hopes, and her faith in her God.

Although mamma winked at these solitary walks of Vava's, in reality they very much troubled her. Even putting aside snakes and mad dogs, there was no knowing where she might lose herself or who she might meet.... In the mountains musicians roamed about and beggars as well.... So that mamma was partly glad when Vava made some friends and acquaintances for herself. And although these acquaintances were not such as she would have chosen for herself or Mimotchka, anyhow it Was better than Vava's being alone. First of all, at the gymnastics, Vava made acquaintance with some children, then with their nurses, governesses, and relations, and before three weeks had elapsed she was united in bonds of the tenderest friendship with a young girl who had just finished her studies as pupil in the institution,[12] with a youth, the brother of the young girl, with a governess, with a little Moscow doctor and his wife, and with a student, the tutor of the actress Morozoffs ten-year-old boy.

[12] Government establishments for the education of young girls, daughters of gentlemen.

They formed a little circle of their own, walked together, made excursions in the mountains and environs, lent each other books, talked and argued.... Vava was in ecstasies over her new acquaintances. Of course they were not quite Washingtons, but still they were thoroughly nice, good people, and how different from her Petersburg acquaintances! They did not ridicule anyone, were not proud of anything, they were severe to themselves and indulgent to others, they did not talk scandal, but occupied themselves with their own affairs.... They not only thought as she did about everything, but they had ideas and views of their own besides, which were new to her and awoke a host of fresh thoughts in her. This overjoyed her. Now she heard and read about all kinds of things--and there was somebody for her to share her impressions with too.

They were delightful people, and ever so much better than she was.... She was particularly fond of the governess: she was so intelligent, so patient and just.... Vava was not worth her little finger.

Of her home and mother Vava never spoke to her new acquaintances. She would have thought it mean to complain or to try and interest them in her troubles. But, judging from their general opinions and other examples, she saw that from their point of view she was right in not liking the kind of life her family led and in wishing for something different. But for the present she must submit and wait, and afterwards she would be able to arrange her life as she wanted to.

And, thinking of how, some day in the future, she would arrange her life, Vava was particularly fascinated by one idea. She had found her mission, imagined a work after her own heart, found an object in life that was really worthy, interesting, and absorbing.

She could never live as Zina lived. If she had possessed some talent she would have lived for that, but she had no talents whatever, so this is what she would do. As soon as she was twenty-five, and everyone could see that she was going to be an old maid, then she would ask to be given her own money. And with this money she would open a home for children who had been forsaken by their parents. And she would take into her home all the poor, forsaken, lost, destitute children.... She would take care of them and she would have many, many children, first a hundred, then two hundred, and so on, more and more. And she herself would bathe and dry them, and dress them, and put them to bed, and teach them to walk and talk, read and think, love and forgive....

In her imagination Vava already saw her rooms, full of children's cots of dazzling whiteness, and in them the children, pretty, little, tender, helpless children.... They went to sleep, they awoke and smiled, and screamed, and cried, and called her "Mamma!" And she loved them all, every one of them.... Some were healthy, handsome, and lively, and she was justly proud of them; others, poor, weakly, and crippled, and she was tender and pitiful to them.... And she loved all of them, yes, all.... Then they grew up and their characters developed. They helped her to educate the little ones as they came in. They laboured and studied and developed.... And now they became the Gracchi and the William Tells that she had been looking for.... And they entered upon life's work while she, old and grey, followed after them ready to bless or console....

If only she could soon be twenty-five! She would reach that age some day. Mimotchka had already reached it. And meanwhile she must study and prepare herself, and above all, correct herself and attain a proper equilibrium of mind. With her character it would be difficult. But what of that? She would strive hard with herself. And then the work itself would give her strength. She would have helpers too. She would take into her home young girls, portionless, good young girls, and make them so happy that they would not feel their position irksome. Then she would take old women, like those that go into almshouses, old and poor. They could be the nurses. She did not want any Swedish gymnastics or English _bonnes;_ everything would be on the simplest footing, without any pretensions or nonsense. And then, and then....

And her castles in the air so inspirited Vava that she got stronger every day, and wrote her mother the most affectionate and respectful letters, and was so attentive to her aunt that the good lady became really attached to her, and often said, "Décidément Julie est une personne de beaucoup d'esprit, mais elle manque de cœur."

At first Doctor Variashski had paid Mimotchka a great deal of attention. He walked with her, sat by her at the music, rode on horseback with her, and came to tea with them several times, but he soon got tired of it. Mamma wearied him with her perpetual chatter, besides which Mimotchka herself was so unamusing and difficult to get on with.

She, on her side, was quite disillusioned with the doctor, whom she had liked so much at first. Mimotchka was spoilt and pampered, and accustomed to everything being done for her happiness and pleasure, while the doctor was dreadfully selfish and only thought of himself. For instance, he rode on horseback with her, and trotted the whole time (because it was good for his health). And what a state she was in, poor thing! And once, too, when she had only just drank her koumiss, her habit bodice felt so tight, and she endured such dreadful torments that she even cried when she got home. And mamma, while rubbing her side and counting out fifteen drops of valerian for her to take, thought, "What pigs those men are" (mamma sometimes used rather vulgar expressions to herself). "They go galloping on for their own pleasure, and never remember that the poor thing isn't strong. And he a doctor, too!"

But what made mamma more indignant then anything with Doctor Variashski, was that she heard he was completely captivated by the charms of his neighbour and patient, Mdme. Tchereshneff. Mdme. Tchereshneff was a widow of thirty-four, who had come to the springs with her son, a boy of six, and his nurse. She occupied rooms next door to Variashski, and their balconies touched. She wore pretty toilettes, and in general was interesting and elegant-looking. All this mamma learnt from Mdlle. Kossovitch.

Soon she was able to assure herself with her own eyes of the truth of this information. Variashski walked with Mdme. Tchereshneff, he rode with her and went out shooting eagles with her (yes, she went out shooting--that showed what sort of woman she was!), he went to tea with her, played with her boy, in fact, they were hardly ever apart. This made our ladies very, very much cooler towards Variashski. Of course mamma did not in the least wish him to compromise her daughter in the way he was compromising Mdme. Tchereshneff. But then he would never dare to. Mimotchka and Mdme. Tchereshneff were two quite different people. Mimotchka might have admirers, but she must not be talked about. And then to allow a doctor to pay you attention too, a man to whom you would give ten roubles for a visit, and who you could dismiss like a hairdresser. Mamma was really surprised at Mdme. Tchereshneff!... If only Mimotchka had liked, of course, she could have found something better.... Yes, if only she had wished it, the whole division would have been at her feet.... And princes besides! But, a doctor.... A man whom you paid for his visits!... And mamma had thought him such a serious, respectable man!... Certainly he was no longer very young. And to spend whole days at Mdme. Tchereshneff's; _à son âge!_ ... It was evidently true what Doctor Shavronski said about Variashski's going out in a fez and with a pipe in his mouth, followed by a train of eight ladies, who were all in love with him.... What things one does hear and see!... And Doctor Variashski's proceedings so cooled mamma's and Mimotchka's feelings towards him that it was positively decided to pay him a hundred roubles and not a hundred and fifty. Mamma had even ceased believing in him as if he were the Almighty.

Kislovodsk was preparing for the season. The prices in the hotels had already gone up in expectation of the invalids who were making cures in other places and had to come on here to finish off, and for a rest after the strictness of the _régime._

"Kislovodsk," says Lermontoff, "is the scene of the _dénouement_ of all the love stories begun at the foot of Beshtau, Mashouka, and Jeleznaia."

Here, in general, accounts are wound up, intrigues unravelled, and deceptions unmasked; doctors count over their fees, and the invalids prove their newly acquired health; in a word, here, in the Narzan-laden atmosphere, the grand finale of the watering season is played out.

Kislovodsk was preparing for the season. And meanwhile, in the other stations, all kinds of love affairs were beginning and developing, and would be wound up at Kislovodsk. Widows suffering from _ennui,_ wives separated from their husbands, dissatisfied wives, giddy, volatile, sentimental old maids, and would-be brides--all these swarmed and crowded at the Jeleznovodsk springs, and, having drawn from them fresh health and courage, threw out lines and nets right and left. And fishes, both large and small, nibbled and were entangled in them.

And so the day came when Doctor Ivanoff's first three patients migrated from Jeleznovodsk to Kislovodsk, and Doctor Grazianski's seven patients moved over from Piatigorsk to Jeleznovodsk, where the season was at its full height. The invalids had got better, they had made acquaintance with each other, and were well amused as they let themselves be drawn into the usual idle, though frivolously busy, watering-place life. The evenings got darker, the stars brighter, and the storms more frequent.

Mimotchka was not dull. She had got even prettier, and was looking blooming. She hadn't any flirtation going on, oh no! Did her heart beat too calmly, or was all around her unworthy of passion? Neither one nor the other. Simply she was too well brought up for any deviation from the path of duty. And although all around her, under her very eyes, couples met, smiled, and flirted, although she was surrounded by an atmosphere of love-making, Mimotchka was perfectly cool and calm. What were all these bakers' and farmers' wives to her? What did she care about all these people that swarmed and crawled on the grass under the sun's rays like beetles and grasshoppers? They might live as they liked, she would live as she "ought." And, proud in the knowledge of her irreproachableness and inaccessibility, Mimotchka, young, fresh, and pretty, tripped lightly and gracefully through the green alleys, without paying the slightest attention either to the approving and admiring glances directed at her, or to the meetings with _him,_ with

_l'homme au chien_ (although he had grown ever so much handsomer!).

No, Mimotchka had not the least shade of a flirtation, and, together with mamma, made fun of their neighbour on the adjoining balcony, a young widow from Smolensk, who, although she was still wearing mourning, said to her acquaintances, "Yes, I am not against a flirtation, only I don't want to take the initiative." And when, soon after, a young officer of the line[13] took to visiting her, mamma called him "the officer with the initiative." And what a nuisance he was to them! He spat and coughed and smoked cigarette after cigarette, and the worst possible cigarettes too, while the widow, in a languishing voice, sang about

"The night, and love, and the moon."

[13] Officers of the line rank lower in social position than officers of the guards.

Mamma used to listen to their conversations; the balconies were only divided by a canvas partition.

"Haven't you anything to read to me?" asked the widow; "it's so dull. Lend me some book, only not a love story, please.... Are there any such books?"

"Of course there are. Have you read any of Gleb Ouspensky's[14] books?"

"Gleb? No. Are they good?"

"Well, you must read them. I'll bring them to you."

"Bring them; yes, do bring them."

And they read Gleb Ouspensky together, afterwards they read Schopenhauer. And mamma, sitting with her work on her own balcony, laughed to herself, thinking, "Read on, read on; evidently, tout chemin mène à Rome."

[14] A realistic author, who chiefly wrote sketches of peasant life.

When the officer was tired of reading he put the book down on the table and lit a cigarette.

"How true, how true it all is!" said the widow, gazing pensively towards Beshtau. "I look on life just as Schopenhauer does. There is nothing that can bear being analysed without being dispersed like smoke. Truly, life is not worth living."

"Yes, certainly life is a pretty considerable muddle. But still, for all that, why not try and live without analysing and reflecting about everything?"

"No, once you know that life is worthless, it's not worth while living."

"No, it's worth trying just for the sake of being convinced."

"But if you know beforehand it's not worth while?"

"But why isn't it worth while? Why, Schopenhauer himself went through it all before writing about it."

"But then, what sort of a life did he live? Well, yes, he found out that everything is falsehood, fancy, and vanity, that we deceive ourselves. And we all come to the same conclusion. Is it worth while wasting strength to come to a result already known, even though it be only known from books?"

"Well, you take a very high-flown view. I look on things much more simply."

"Why are we wasting the time in talking? Go oh reading, go on!" ...