Chapter C: Hagberg Wright (5)

Women do not wish, and do not understand how to be intelligent. When the sun shines on them, when the heavens smile on them, they pull down the blinds.... Everything is only play, amusement, and a joke to them. Not one them of knows how to raise herself to the height of a serious feeling.... Flirts, who don't deserve that a man with a soul should waste his time and lose his heart for them.... Well did Heine say ... And what a bitter truth Byron wrote ... and Montesquieu, that great jurist.... Mimotchka finally gave up trying to understand altogether. Great men's names always bewildered her. Her lips trembled, she would have liked to cry. And why does he scream at her here so, where so many people are passing, and when she cannot say anything for fear she will burst into tears?

Taking advantage of a momentary silence, Mimotchka got up and said:

"I think it is time for me to go home." He bowed coldly and politely. "Aren't you going to see me home?"

"If you desire it."

And they came down the mountain. He played with his stick; Mimotchka looked on the ground, and Rex walked lazily after them, wagging his tail, and wondering they were not tired of such stupid talk.

"When are you going to Kislovodsk?" asked Valerian Nicolaevitch.

"To-morrow. And you?" and Mimotchka looked up at him with the tenderest, most beseeching look.

"I am not going there at all."

There was a silence.

"Why are you in such a hurry to get home?" began Mimotchka again.

"I am not going home. I think I already told you that the baroness had asked me to come and stay at their place.... The baron is an old school friend of mine, and I shall be glad to see him again! And she is such a charming woman too...."

And again they went on in silence. Mimotchka was struggling with herself, not knowing whether to ask him to come to Kislovodsk or not. If she asks him what reason shall she give for asking him to come, and how will he take it? And if she doesn't ask him he won't come. No, she will ask him, she will ask him. But still she was undecided, and said:

"I wish you would say some verses to me."

"Some verses? Certainly." He plucked a flower from the wayside and began declaiming:

"Elle était belle, si la nuit
Qui dort dans la sombre chapelle," ...

and so on. When he had pronounced the last words with great effect, they had reached the door of the house, where mamma was waiting dinner for Mimotchka, but still she did not ask him to come, to Kislovodsk. She remarked that it was yet early, and that very likely Vava hadn't returned, so they might as well take another turn. Valerian Nicolaevitch offered her his arm, and they went on a little further, then they came back and passed the house on the other side of the way. After a little while Mimotchka spoke, and when they stopped at the door for the third time, and mamma had warmed up the soup on the kerosene stove for the second time, everything that was necessary had been said. He had promised to come to Kislovodsk for a month (that is, for the whole time that she would be there), and she had promised to go out riding with him the first evening they were there. Why did he so hold to it? Well, anyhow it didn't matter? They had made it up.

Both Vava and Mimotchka had passed the time so agreeably at Jeleznovodsk, and liked it so much, that when they came to Kislovodsk they refused to admire anything, but stood out that Jeleznovodsk was a great deal nicer. Vava said that Jeleznovodsk was dark, green, and warm, while Kislovodsk was light, blue, and cold; and Mimotchka said she had a crooked looking-glass, and that her bed was a great deal harder than the one at Jeleznovodsk. Besides this, there were a good many of their Petersburg acquaintances at Kislovodsk--Princess X---,

with her daughter and niece, General Baraeff, a friend of Spiridon Ivanovitch's, and others besides.... Now they would get sick of them and their gossip, and good-bye to the freedom of Jeleznovodsk!

However, Vava and Mimotchka were soon reassured on that score. The princess seemed hardly to move from her place at the card-table, her daughter had captured a little _aide-de-camp_ with the object of leading him to the altar, her cousin was romantically and hopelessly in love with a very pale and very interesting gentleman, whose wife had run away from him, and who was making a cure at Kislovodsk, while General Baraeff was incessantly after a pretty widow, with whom he intended to go for a trip across the Caucasus. In fact, they all seemed quite taken up with themselves and their own amusements. The young princess and her cousin met Mimotchka and Vava very amiably and with transports of friendliness, but it was clear that they had not the slightest intention of profiting by their society, and were only anxious not to be interfered with in their walks and excursions. And both Mimotchka and Vava breathed freely again. The latter's entire circle of friends had assembled at Kislovodsk, excepting the student, who had gone with the Morozoffs to the Crimea. Vava welcomed them joyfully, and the day after their arrival the whole party undertook the ascent of the Krestoff mountain, the view from which so delighted Vava that in two or three days' time she began to like Kislovodsk better than Jeleznovodsk. And it really was better. Here there were silvery birch-trees, murmuring mountain streams, and, above all, the wonderful pure air, intoxicating and invigorating all who breathed it. And then, here there was more variety, it was more Eastern, more Caucasian.

Mamma accepted with pleasure the princess's offer to occupy the fourth place at her card-table, the former player having left for the Crimea. Vint was one of mamma's passions, and was a great deal more interesting than picquet with the bilious, irritable dignitary from Petersburg.

On the fourth day after their arrival Mimotchka put on a white dress and a red hat and went with Vava to the park. They both still drank koumiss, and went to the koumiss establishment to drink it. Passing through the colonnade they met Valerian Nicolaevitch, but a transformed Valerian Nicolaevitch! In a Tcherkesk costume, wearing a _beshmet,_[22] a _papaha,_ and with daggers stuck in his belt. And what a splendid _djigit_[23] he made! Tall, well built, and black browed! It was a surprise for Mimotchka. Rex walked majestically after his master.

[22] _Beshmet,_ a Tartar tunic; _papaha,_ a high sheepskin cap.

[23] _Djigit,_ a Circassian rider who performs feats of horsemanship.

"Isn't it odd?" said Valerian Nicolaevitch to the ladies as he greeted them; "I always bring this costume with me, but at the beginning of the season at Jeleznovodsk I haven't the courage to put it on. But here I already venture to wear the national dress, and all the more so because I am almost always on horseback. The environs are so lovely! Have you been anywhere yet?"

"Nowhere. With whom should I go?"

"How glad I am! The environs are so beautiful! And I so much wanted to show you my favourite places myself. Then shall we go for a ride to-day?"

"Let us go. Have you spoken about the horses?"

"Of course I have. Our horses are here, so we shall not have to look about for fresh ones. Osman came on with them yesterday."

When they had drunk their koumiss, Mimotchka and Vava carried off Valerian Nicolaevitch to speak to mamma, who was playing cards out of doors. Mamma was delighted to see him, and introduced him to the princess, who examined him through her eyeglass when he had moved from their table, and also thought him handsomer than the hussar Anutin.

And Valerian Nicolaevitch and Mimotchka went on to the end of the principal walk, losing Vava, who met some of her friends, on the way. Mimotchka was radiant. It was as if there had never been any quarrel between them; they were again on the old, pleasant, friendly footing. Mimotchka herself had hardly expected she would be so glad of it. Yes, he was more necessary to her than anyone. Life did not seem the same thing to her with him as with others. And he was so bright, so contented, so glad. Why was he glad? Because he was with her, of course. Was not that the reason why she was so glad! So glad, so glad! Ah, how happy she was!

After dinner Mimotchka lay down to rest a little. But she could not sleep, only lay there and rejoiced at his having come. How could she possibly sleep now? It rested her only to think of him. Could the presence, the vicinity of any other person bring such joy, such light into her life? Well, now he is here. And again they will be together amongst a crowd of strangers. That is all she wants. To be together, and to be young and lovely for him and through him. Because, for instance, the reason why she looks so well to-day is that he has come. The joy of it beautifies her. Oh, how she loves him! She never, never felt so before. And the chief thing is that there is nothing wrong in it. How can that be wrong which awakens the best part of her soul? She fears nothing, nothing.... Is it possible that she really loves him? Well, what if she does? She cannot hold back her heart nor stop it; how it beats!... Of course he will never know. She will never allow him to, and he would never permit himself ... What does it matter if she loves him? The purest and most honourable Woman may be carried away by her feelings.... And in spite of it she may have the strength to remain honest.... They are going out riding, and again there will be a whole evening for them together, they two alone! How beautiful! How beautiful!

Then she began to dress.... Never in her life had her toilet been so successful. Her hair seemed to arrange itself on her head, the buttoned-up habit bodice set like a glove, and when Mimotchka, having scented her handkerchief and taken her riding-whip from Katia's hands, threw a last glance at herself in the mirror, there looked out at her from it such an angelic, poetical little face, with shining eyes and a happy smile, that she almost blew a kiss to her own image. The horses were already brought round. He was seated on horseback, and talking to mamma through the window.

"Please, Valerian Nicolaevitch, do see that she doesn't ride too fast and too far. Any over fatigue is so bad for her, and she has got so venturesome and careless lately.... After all it's not long since her recovery. Do look after her. I give her into your charge."

"Be quite easy, Anna Arcadievna."

Mimotchka came down the steps and sprang lightly into the saddle; she smiled up at mamma and rode off beside Valerian Nicolaevitch, with Osman following a little behind them. And mamma looked after them and thought to herself: "What a fine-looking couple they make! If we lived in Arcadia instead of Petersburg that would have been the sort of husband to have. Still, everything is for the best. A man like that wouldn't have married her, but would have looked out for money, and after marriage would only have amused himself and deceived her.... Les beaux maris ne sont pas les meilleurs.... And you can always find as many admirers as you like, but a husband like Spiridon Ivanovitch is not picked up every day." ...

And mamma meditatively returned to her _coiffure,_ for she was going to see the princess. But where has Vava gone? "Where's your young lady?" she asked Katia.

"She was here a minute ago."

"A minute ago! I ask you where she is _now?_ What are you thinking of, pray? What do you receive wages for from Julia Arcadievna? You were told not to leave your young lady alone for a minute. Go and find her directly!"

Katia listened submissively to mamma, and after she had put together Mimotchka's scattered petticoats and hairpins, she did her hair, scented herself with Mimotchka's eau de toilette, put on a little grey jacket and a hat with a wing at the side, and hurried off to the park, where, at the end of a shady walk, she met David Georgevitch, who was Waiting for her, and who had already presented her with a Caucasian brooch and two turquoise rings.

After leaving Kislovodsk, Valerian Nicolaevitch and Mimotchka rode along the country road. Sometimes they went along slowly and sometimes galloped. (Valerian Nicolaevitch only rode at the kind of pace that pleased Mimotchka; _he_ was not like Variashksi!) At the first pause he began talking about horses, and told Mimotchka what kind of horses he had at Kieff and what kind on his estate. Afterwards, crossing the fords, they remembered Petchorin and Princess Mary,[24] and he talked about Lermontoff and literature.... It was just the same to Mimotchka on what subject she kept silence as long as she could listen to him. Then he began to speak of nature. And she, did she care about nature? Oh yes! (Mimotchka forgot that she had previously only cared about nature somewhere round a bandstand.) It seemed to her then that she loved and always had loved nature. Didn't she like cantering over this green steppe, that waved about like a sea? Didn't she admire the delicate outline of the chain of mountains that bordered the horizon? Oh yes, she loves nature. She had not known anything about it before. In Petersburg and Paris you only see nature in pictures at exhibitions....

[24] The hero and heroine of a novel, by Lermontoff, called a _Hero of our Times,_ and in which the scene laid in the Caucasus.

In the midst of their peaceful chat they met a carriage in which were seated General Baraeff and the widow. The general bowed amiably to Mimotchka, who nodded to him in return. Valerian Nicolaevitch began making fun of the general.

"It's Baraeff, a friend of my husband's," said Mimotchka.

When she mentioned her husband a shadow always passed over Valerian Nicolaevitch's face. Mimotchka was already aware of this, and was sorry she had mentioned him so _mal à propos._ They became silent, and pushed on their horses as if the recollection of poor Spiridon Ivanovitch obliged them to hasten to the object of their excursion.

"Where are we going to-day?" asked Mimotchka, when the horses got tired and fell back into a walking pace.

"We are going to-day to the 'Castle of Love and Treachery.'"

"A castle? Is there really a castle there?"

"No, there is no castle whatever; but there are rocks, very picturesquely situated rocks.... It's a lovely spot.... And there is a legend connected with the rocks. If it won't bore you to listen, I will tell you the legend."

"On the contrary, I should very much like to hear it."

"Well then, listen. A certain merchant had a daughter--of course she was young and beautiful."

"Why 'of course'?"

"Because otherwise she would not be worth talking about. Well, this daughter loved a youth, also young and beautiful. The young people loved each other as it is only possible to love under such a sun and amidst such scenery. (Probably you won't understand this, mais passons.) Well, the young people loved each other, but, as is generally the case, fate and circumstances were against them. The father of the girl rejected the suit of the enamoured youth, who was poor, and found another bridegroom for his daughter, a rich merchant like himself. The young people tried to overcome his objections, but he was inexorable; so they decided to die. One beautiful morning they came to these rocks--you will see them directly-stood at the edge of the abyss, so as to throw themselves down and be dashed to pieces on the stones, and said good-bye to each other--good-bye to life, to light, and to nature. 'Throw yourself down!' said the girl, 'and I will after you.' He smiled at her, threw himself into the gulf below, and was killed. And she ..."

"And she?"

"She went back home and married the rich merchant!"

"Oh, what an ..."

"Artful one, wasn't she? She married the merchant and the rocks kept the secret of his love and her treachery. Look--they are already visible, do you see? More to the left.... But we can go down there below." ...

"Then you have been here before?" ...

"Oh, more than once! But never in such charming company." ...

"What's that? un compliment?"

"No, I am not joking. Do you know, I love these rocks, this wild, picturesque spot, where every pathway, every stone awakens in me so many feelings and thoughts that have nothing in common with my dull, grey, everyday life.... And whenever I was here before, I always thought how beautiful it would be to come with some charming, poetical creature--in fact, to come as I have come to-day. And when I go home I shall say, 'Now let thy servant depart in peace!'" ...

The idea passed through Mimotchka's head: "Is he going to allow himself to?" ... But no, he had already begun talking again about the horses. Then they were both silent. They had to get down below by a steep, narrow path. Osman rode on in front, to show the way.

It had got dark. The moon had not yet made her appearance.

"This doesn't look much like a moonlight night. You said there would be a moon."

"Wait a little, only wait. There will be a moon."

"But we shan't see anything down there."

Mimotchka began to get alarmed at the darkness.

"Why shan't we see anything? Don't you see the rocks? How beautiful that pass is! And the moon will come out directly."

"Yes, but while we are waiting for the moon it will get late, and when shall we get back?"

"Late? What does it matter if it is late? It will be as light as day for us to ride back when the moon is up. You are not going anywhere this evening, are you?"

"No, I am not going anywhere, but mamma will be uneasy."

"She won't be uneasy, because she knows you are with me. And why think of going back when it is so beautiful here? But women never do understand how to enjoy the present moment. I pity them! Then you don't care for it here? I thought you were more sensitive to the beauties of nature.... Look at these rocks, at that sky, at those stars.... Do you remember those lines of Musset--

'J'aime! voilà le mot que la nature entière
Crie au vent qui l'emporte, à l'oiseau qui le suit!
Sombre et dernier soupir que poussera la terre
Quand elle tombera dans l'éternelle nuit;
Oh! vous le murmurez dans vos sphères sacrées,
Etoiles du matin, ce mot triste et charmant!
La plus faible de vous, quand Dieu vous a crées,
A voulu traverser les plaines éthérées,
Pour chercher le soleil, son immortel amant.
Elle s'est élancée au sein des nuits profondes.
Mais une autre l'aimait elle-meme; et les mondes
Se sont mis en voyage autour du firmament.'

How beautiful they are, aren't they? I am sorry I can't see your face. I should like to know if you look as you always do."

"And how do I always look?"

"Cold, severe.... Like a general's wife."

"A general's wife? Naturally, I look what I am."

"Don't calumniate yourself. You are a woman. You should look like a woman, such a woman as stood there on the top of those rocks, wavering between sacrifice and treachery."

"But I don't in the least wish to resemble her."

"Why?"

"Because she behaved odiously."

"Perfidiously, yes, but she acted like a woman, a weak, false woman. And that is what pleases me. I like weakness in women. I don't care about strong-minded women-heroines. Let those who will sing their praises, I shall never be among their admirers. Strength of mind is as little suited to a woman as physical strength. A woman should be all weakness, all love, all tenderness. Let her weakness make her false. What does it matter as long as she is charming!... But you, how would you have acted in her place? Imagine that you are in love with someone--well, say, for instance, with me. I hope that such a supposition made in joke won't offend you. Imagine, then, that you are in love with me, here, now, as you are, in your present position."

"In my present position?... I think that if I were in love with you, I should endeavour that you should never find it out."

"And why so?"

"Because I am married, I am not free."

"La belle raison!"

"Comment, ce n'est pas une raison?... What would you say if your wife.."

At the mention of Spiridon Ivanovitch, Valerian Nicolaevitch had frowned; at the mention of his wife a bored, weary expression overspread his countenance. Mimotchka knew the expression well, and she always rejoiced at it. Although she had heard from the baroness that his wife was a charming woman, still it was more agreeable to her to think that she was dull, unsuited to him, and as little wanted as Spiridon Ivanovitch himself. If he were happy with her, he would not come away from her, and would not have such a pale, weary looking face and sunken cheeks, would he?... No; he was probably unhappy and suffering, and only did not complain because he was too proud. Poor dear!...

Meanwhile they had got down to the pass, and Valerian Nicolaevitch proposed to Mimotchka to dismount and walk to a place from where he considered the view of the rocks to be even finer. Osman led away the horses, and they made their way over the stones by the side of a murmuring mountain stream. A high, perpendicular rock rose behind them like a menacing wall. It seemed to Mimotchka as if she were descending into the bowels of the earth, or as if she were at the bottom of a deep well. The steppe across which they had galloped was so high above her head, and the sky, on which the long-expected moon had at last appeared, illuminating the rocks and their picturesque verdure, seemed so far off.

"Well, how do you like it?" ...

"C'est féerique," murmured Mimotchka "c'est féerique!" And what stillness, what utter stillness! No; decidedly she is somewhere not on the earth. And for an instant, for the last time, the disquieting thought came into Mimotchka's head. Had she done right to come here? He had asked her to come, but perhaps he would have had a better opinion of her if she had not come. But, no; what nonsense! What harm is there? Everybody comes here to admire nature, and she has also come to admire nature. It's no use to come to the Caucasus and not visit its picturesque parts. Otherwise afterwards, when she looks at photographs, she will find that she has not seen anything. Why doesn't Vava ride on horseback? She might have come with them. And what harm is there in her having come here alone with him? If she were to have gone with him to some restaurant now, that would have been dreadful! (But of course she would never have gone with him.) And they have only come here to admire nature. Yes, and besides, after all, they have the Tartar groom with them. Somewhere in the distance she can hear a horse neighing; those are their horses and Osman.

And, having quieted her conscience by such reflections, Mimotchka repeated, "C'est féerique!" ... And she sincerely admired the picturesque rocks, and Valerian Nicolaevitch sincerely admired her.

"You are not tired?" asked he, spreading out his cloak upon the ground. "Sit down; I am sorry that I have already told you the legend about the poor youth who was killed here. I ought to have told you it now, here, in view of the rocks.... Well, I must tell you something else."

Decidedly Mimotchka was no longer on earth. It was impossible that that could be the same moon that shone on Spiridon Ivanovitch and baby. That was somewhere far away, but this was quite a different moon so benignly protecting them. And what a soft, languorous, magic light she sheds over that little corner where they are alone together and so far from the crowds of people, from the noise and the world....

How quiet it is, how quiet!... What moments of full, perfect, unalloyed happiness! If one could only fall asleep here, die, and never awake again, never come back to life. And he was with her, near her, and gazing at her as her humble, faithful slave, as her devoted friend.

And for the first time in her life Mimotchka no longer thought if she was looking pretty or not, nor how she was dressed, nor what her aunts would say of her. She felt somehow strange, as if she were neither asleep nor awake. She had never experienced anything like it before. And her breathing was oppressed. For some moments she was afraid she was going to faint.

A stone fell and they both started. He drew still nearer to her. Were you frightened? Is that really him? Yes; those are his eyes shining. How pale he is! And how pale the moon is! What is it all--a dream or a reality? And Mimotchka, wishing to break through this fearful, oppressive silence and to get the better of the numbness overpowering her, repeated again, "C'est féerique, c'est féerique!"

And really there was something fairy-like, something extraordinary about the evening. And the most extraordinary thing of all was that Valerian Nicolaevitch took Mimotchka into his arms and kissed her--kissed her eyes, her lips, and her hair. How did it happen? How could he allow himself to, and how could she permit it?... Oh, "Castle of Love and Treachery!" Then he told her, in a caressing whisper, that it must have happened. Well, of course, once it had happened, probably it must have happened. But anyhow they must go home now quick, quick!... And when he put her into the saddle, he said to her, "My darling! My beautiful darling!" ... And she, helplessly putting her hair straight, said, "Il fait tard, il fait tard!" But she looked more radiantly beautiful than Spiridon Ivanovitch had ever seen her look, in spite of the fact of his commanding a division and having a whole division under his supervision.

They must ride back fast, very fast; but Mimotchka had somehow lost her riding-whip on the mountain. Osman and Valerian Nicolaevitch ran back to find it. They found the whip, and all three set off furiously across the steppe, now flooded by the moonlight.

The lights of Kislovodsk were shining when they rode up the long alley of poplars. From the chief hotel came the sounds of a waltz. Mamma was looking out for her daughter, sitting at the open window and getting uneasy.

"Here you are at last!" said she. "I was getting afraid that something had happened to you, that you had been attacked.... Well, what? Are you tired?" ...

"Yes; we hurried back so."

"Come in, Valerian Nicolaevitch, come in and have some tea."

Valerian Nicolaevitch thanked her, but refused. He had promised to go to a party somewhere. And when he had helped Mimotchka down from the saddle, he came to the gate with her, and whispered to her, "À demain!" and, with a look and a pressure of the hand, thanked her for going with him.

When she came in, Mimotchka refused tea and all refreshment, but went straight into her own room and hurriedly began undressing. She did not want to see anyone; and having put out the candle, she laid her radiant face on the pillow. How had it happened? She had no feeling either of repentance or of shame. She only felt happy and peaceful. This--fall, this--terrible step; it was a stain that could not be effaced; it was--a sin, she thought to herself; but how easy it had been to commit it! Maintenant c'est fini, elle est une femme perdue! And her husband?... But she mustn't think about it--no, she must not; better think about _him:_ Val! Val!... And Mimotchka went off to sleep soundly and tranquilly, as only happy people with a pure and easy conscience sleep.

In the morning they met under the verandah of the Kursaal. There was only a month left before they returned to Petersburg, and how much there was to talk over, how much for them to say to each other. They had to tell each other how they had fallen in love at sight, at their very first meeting, even then, at Rostoff.... Un coup de foudre!... How afterwards they had remembered each other, looked out for each other, and been jealous of each other, until they met again and became acquainted.... And how everything had happened as it must have done. They had to tell each other that they had always waited for each other, that they had foreseen this, and now were bound to each other for all eternity. Oui, c'est pour la vie, c'est pour la vie!... And principally they had to arrange about the time and place of their meetings.

He lived alone, and by taking proper precautions Mimotchka might come to his rooms. This would be the most convenient way. He would not have proposed it to her if there had been any risk, for Mimotchka's honour and good name were above all things dear to him. And Mimotchka, having reconnoitred and assured herself that "Maman ne se doute de rien," and that she and Princess X---- and all their circle were completely taken with the hussar Anutin and his intended bride, was tranquillised, and, taking all due precautions, came to his rooms.

How she enjoyed being there! Everything that surrounded him and that he used bore the stamp of his exquisite taste. Mimotchka turned over his letter-case, his albums, and looked at the portraits of his wife and children.... His wife was a great deal too handsome, and excited her jealousy, but Valerian Nicolaevitch pacified her: "Handsome?... Yes; she is handsome, but that is not sufficient. Une femme doit plaire. That is the chief thing." His wife was not suited to him. A cold, lifeless beauty; a soulless creature, a blue-stocking, a second Lady Byron.... She was a mother, only a mother, not a woman to love. She lived for the children, and expected him to do the same. It was absurd. The children would live and enjoy life themselves some day. And meanwhile he wishes to enjoy his life. Another life will not be granted to him. He must live, live....

And he kissed Mimotchka, kissed her eyes, and said, "Let me drink of this sea!"

Mimotchka was not aware before that there was a sea in her eyes.

Having got over her jealousy, Mimotchka hid the photograph of his wife further on in the book, so that it should not meet her eyes, and went on turning over his things.

Valerian Nicolaevitch had forty neckties and forty pairs of socks, and for each necktie there were socks to match. And what a lot of _breloques,_ pins, and rings besides, which he varied, also selecting them to match the neckties. In general, he was rather a dandy, but Mimotchka liked it. She looked over and arranged the forty neckties in a rosewood box, separating one necktie from the other with a sachet of his favourite perfume, "Cherry-blossom." And she told him which neckties she liked, and which she didn't like, and which he was to wear the next day. And one necktie she called the necktie of "Love and Treachery." That was her favourite. Occasionally, chiefly on the days she received letters from Spiridon Ivanovitch, Mimotchka had a fit of the "blue devils," as she called it, and she reproached herself for her guilt towards her husband. "Je suis une femme perdue," she said. "Anyhow, I have wronged him, injured him.... And he has in nowise deserved it. And what will happen if he gets to know? He will kill me or turn me out of the house ... Enfin je suis une femme perdue. And you yourself must despise me. Yes, you despise me, Val; I see you do." ...

"What a child you are!" And he tried to convince her that there was nothing to despise her for. "On vit comme on peut. Look at the people we know; look at Marie Petrovna; look at Marie Lvovna!" ...

Mimotchka reflected and remembered. Certainly, there was both Marie Petrovna and Marie Lvovna. And Nettie, above all! But then, on the other hand, there was Anna Vassilievna, and Aunt Julia, and mamma. No, there were still some honest, good women, not like her. Otherwise, why such harsh, pitiless judgments, why so much hypocrisy in the world?... Valerian Nicolaevitch explained it all to her.

"Don't you see, people suffer and bear too much because they don't seize the moments of happiness that fall to their share."

"Oh yes, people do suffer."

And she told him all about Spiridon Ivanovitch, and how dull it was for her with him. She was rather afraid that Val would despise her for having an old husband--he had so thundered against mercenary love. But no, it did not disturb him at all. In general, since the ride to the "Castle of Love and Treachery," his feelings towards Spiridon Ivanovitch had quite changed. He did not even frown when Mimotchka mentioned his name, but, on the contrary, he endeavoured to instil into her that with such a husband she could lead a very pleasant, easy life. Only she must be wise. And he proceeded to give her some advice.

In the winter he would come to Petersburg. His wife would remain at Kieff with the children, and they would spend a beautiful winter together. Only there must be no imprudences. He praised Mimotchka because while she was here she had behaved so rightly, so quietly, and so naturally. Neither her mamma, who loved her so tenderly, nor that sharp girl, Vava, had noticed anything whatever. That was as it should be: yes, just as it should be. They loved one another, and they must set up a wall between themselves and the world. Their secret was the wall behind which they could love each other boldly and fully. They must hide their happiness like a treasure, like something precious.

"L'amourette que l'on ébruite
Est un rosier déraciné."

Let people try and guess if they chose to, let them suspect what they liked, but don't let them know anything.

Mimotchka told him how she came to marry, how everybody had persuaded her to, and how she could never have made up her mind to it by herself. Valerian Nicolaevitch did not understand why. It was wise, and she had acted very rightly. Money was not the last thing in life; if it was not happiness, at any rate it was the key to happiness. Only, these last four years she had not understood how to arrange her life. She herself had made it dull. Everything depends on ourselves.

But up till now she had not cared for anyone. She had never loved before, and if she had not met him, Val, here, she would never have known the happiness of love. But now, c'est pour la vie, n'est-ce-pas?

"Oui, c'est pour la vie!"

He himself seemed to be deeply unhappy in his family life. His wife was a cold, hard pedant, who was incapable of responding to the transports of his ardent soul. She was _une femelle;_ yes, that was the word. Why had he married her?... It was a long story. Some day he would tell it to Mimotchka, afterwards, but meanwhile ... "Let me drink of this sea!" ... And he kissed her eyes.

For the first two weeks he told Mimotchka that he should certainly come to Petersburg, and they talked about the delightful evenings they would spend together at theatres and concerts. They would meet every day. But as the time of separation drew near these plans somewhat changed.

He received a business letter from Kieff. It appeared he would hardly be able to get away to Petersburg. An affair was impending, an important, complicated lawsuit, with the particulars of which he made Mimotchka acquainted. He was to defend a celebrated thief, a regular scoundrel.

"But why defend a scoundrel?" asked Mimotchka; "then you don't think him guilty?"

"I am convinced of his guilt!"

"And you would defend him _quand meme?_"

"Every man has a right to a defence. It's easy enough to acquit an innocent man. His innocence itself speaks for him. But to pardon a guilty man, to turn to him indulgently and mercifully, as a Christian should turn to his brother, whoever he is, much intelligence and much knowledge of the human heart is required. Christ did not judge, Christ justified all, and for this very reason, and to awaken in the juries' hearts that divine spark which exists in everyone of us ..."

"But surely they won't acquit him?"

"Perhaps they will."

"What, a good-for-nothing fellow like that! I would transport him with hard labour. And because of him we shan't see each other any more. How I hate him! And yet you are going to defend him." ... And Mimotchka began to cry.

"What a child you are!" said Valerian Nicolaevitch, and kissed her eyes.

"Then we shan't see each other any more?"

"What can we do?... Fate is jealous." ...

And when, three days before their departure, Mimotchka cried bitterly on his shoulder, he stroked her hair and said rather absently:

"What can we do? We must submit. We were happy.... Fate is jealous.... Voyons, du courage.... We must look the inevitable in the face.... Let us be thankful to Providence for these bright moments. You are still so young....

"You will know new feelings And choose new friends.'"

"Jamais, jamais.... How can you talk like that! Don't you care if I get to love someone else? Tu ne m'as jamais aimée!... Oh, Val, Val!"

"Enfant! voyons, ne pleurez donc pas.... What does it matter? I have had the spring flowers, someone else will have the fruits.... Don't look so terrified!... Je connais la vie, voilà tout!... You're not angry with me?... No!... Let me kiss your eyes! How I love kissing them I ... Fate willed it otherwise.... We have gathered the flowers."

And then came a verse from Heine and a verse from Fett.

"I shall not forget you; no, never, and do you remember too,

'Rappelle-toi, lorsque l'aurore craintive.'" ...

But Mimotchka only went on crying quietly and silently, shaking her head and kissing his hands, while her copious tears dropped like hail on the necktie of "Love and Treachery."

Then they exchanged turquoise rings. Mimotchka had her photograph done for him in her riding-habit, on the same horse on which she had ridden to the "Castle of Love and Treachery," and he had his done for her in his Tcherkesk costume. They had very much wished to visit the "Castle" again, but somehow something always hindered their doing so....

Meanwhile mamma was already packing up and scolding Katia, who seemed bereft of her senses, forgetting orders, letting things drop out of her hands, and packing heavy garments on the top of light ones.

Vava tied up the copybooks containing her impressions of her travels and her projects of a home for destitute children, and wrote down the addresses of her Caucasian friends.

And Katia, on her knees before the open trunk, spread tissue paper over Mimotchka's plush jacket, and from time to time big tears dropped on the jacket and on the linen laid over it. Oh, those Caucasian turquoises!...

Early in the morning a travelling carriage stood at the door of Baranoffsky's apartments. Vava shook hands warmly with her friends, who had come to say good-bye to her. She had very much improved during the summer, had got sunburnt, stouter, and stronger. She had spent a lovely summer here, and how sorry she was to part from those blue mountains, from those walks and little paths in the wood, and from her good friends! Ah, how sorry, how sorry! And Vava, forgetting all about her mother's strictness and home regulations, and her previous unsuccessful attempts to introduce her friends, invited them all--yes, all--to come and see her--please--be sure to--as soon as any one of them came to Petersburg! She would be so happy!... "Don't forget, No. 5 Millionnaia, apartment 2.... Please do be sure to come!"

Mimotchka came out in a travelling hat, in a waterproof, with a travelling bag on her arm, and muffled up in a thick gauze veil. She was calm and composed. She had cried away all her tears the day before.

Valerian Nicolaevitch was kind enough to offer to accompany them on horseback as far as Essentouki. He was in his Tcherkesk costume, leaning picturesquely on his saddle, and humming a song of Kapri's, "I remember the blissful meetings." ...

Katia ran out with bandboxes in her hands, weeping and panting.... Mamma stared at her in amazement. Everything was put in, everything was in its place. The ladies took their seats and the carriage drove off from Kislovodsk.

They said good-bye at Essentouki. Valerian Nicolaevitch kissed mamma's hand, and she expressed the hope that he would come and see them in Petersburg. Vava also invited him to come and see her. She was so sorry that everything Caucasian was leaving her. Mimotchka was silent, but gazed at him mournfully.

And the carriage drove on further in the direction of the station.

It was a grey, dull-looking morning, and a thick, fine rain beat against the windows when the ladies woke up as they neared Petersburg.

Rain, rain, rain.... A melancholy grey sky.... The villas round Petersburg with their fir-tree plantations; the muddy, swampy roads with the ditches at the edge and the thickly-grown bracken pass before them ..., Moss, bilberry bushes, marsh and fog....

Here are the well-known market-gardens with the cabbages, and the barracks, and the platform of the Petersburg railway station; the rain has stopped and the sun is shining on the wet platform.

There is Spiridon Ivanovitch's orderly and there is Aunt Julia's footman.

And here stands Spiridon Ivanovitch himself, resplendent, like a peony, in his crimson-lined overcoat.... Mamma joyfully taps on the window-pane to him. He has seen them, seen them and recognised them!

Mimotchka's heart sinks. How old he looks, and what a stranger he seems to her, what a stranger!... She wishes the train would not stop, but would go on further and further and carry her away past.... But the train slackens speed, it stops. They must get out.

Here's Mdme. Lambert with Zina, and, oh my goodness, here's baby with his nurse! He has come to meet his mamma! How he has grown, how he has improved, and how sunburnt he has got, dear little mite! And just look, he isn't a bit shy; he smiles, he says, "how-do-you-do" to them all, stretches out his lips to be kissed by his mother and grandmother and Vava.... And he salutes, yes, he has learnt how to make a military salute, putting up his little hand to his head and saying, "I wish you good health!" Oh, what a darling!

And grandmamma smothers baby with kisses, and tears of pride and tenderness rise to her eyes, when baby, drawing himself up straight in front of her, says to her, "I wish you good health, your excellency!" And Spiridon Ivanovitch enfolds Mimotchka in his ample embrace.

A week after their arrival they were all assembled at Aunt Julia's. She was in a state of great jubiliation. Her son Vova was engaged, and his _fiancée_ was in every way most suitable. She was both wealthy and well connected.... The engagement was not yet formally announced, but the affair was quite settled. The _fiancée_ was not pretty and she was no longer very young, but she was over head and ears in love with Vova. Aunt Julia liked her very much, and in speaking to her sisters of the young lady she said: "Elle n'est pas futile."

Aunt Julia thanked mamma very warmly for her care of Vava. Not to speak of Vava's having much improved physically, she had also morally changed, for the better; she was more self-controlled, gentler, and more obedient. And so she was given a separate room all to herself, where she could sleep, write, and study without Mdme. Lambert.

"Well, so altogether you had a pleasant trip?" says Aunt Julia in conclusion.

"Delightful, delightful. I am so glad Variashski sent us there."

"But how much prettier Mimotchka has grown! Why, she is simply unrecognisable."

"It's striking!" says Aunt Mary. "Next summer I shall go to Kislovodsk to get young and beautiful again."

Mimotchka smiles modestly and composedly.

"And that Netty!" says Aunt Sophy. "Haven't you heard what a scandal there was?"

"No, what is it? Zina wrote something or other about it, but we could not make out what she meant."

"She is separated from her husband, and has now disappeared from Petersburg and gone off to Paris, where she changes her lovers as often as her gloves. It's awful! She always did behave like a fool. Just before her husband had to go to sea her conscience began to get uneasy. If it had only kept quiet until he came back! No, she goes to confession and tells everything to the priest, this and that, and says she has committed a sin against her husband. The priest directly says: 'And does your husband know of it? 'No,' she says. 'Well then, don't tell him of it.' And he explained to her why she was to keep silence, that as she had sinned, she must suffer, but that he must not suffer for it."

"They always say that," puts in Aunt Mary thoughtlessly, and meeting Aunt Julia's inquiring gaze, she adds, "I have heard of many such cases where the priests said that."

"Well she comes straight home from confession and says to her husband, 'I went to the priest and told him all about my sin.' 'What sin?' And there it was. What!... Scenes and explanations. He wants to shoot himself and she wants to shoot herself. He wants to kill her, to kill the other man, to kill himself. _... A la fin des fins_ he goes to sea, and she, after throwing all the children on the old Poltavsteffs' hands, goes off to her beloved and sets about getting a divorce. After two months the other man cannot stand her any longer and runs away from her. She takes poison, the doctors save her life, and then she goes off to Paris. She has been there now already three weeks, and there are very very ugly rumours about her." ...

"Oh, how sorry I am far the old Poltavsteffs!" says mamma: "how dreadful it is for them!"

"I said a long time ago that she was in a dangerous way," says Aunt Julia.

Mimotchka nods her head affirmatively.

"Well, _à propos_ of love affairs," says Aunt Sophy, "is it true that in the Caucasus, at the springs, there is so much flirting going on?"

"Ah, don't mention it!" answers mamma, smiling. "What things we saw and what things we heard! And Variashski, too, just imagine!" ...

"And wasn't there anyone after Mimi? Est-ce qu'il y a eu quelqu'un pour te faire la cour?... Et personne ne t'a donné dans l'œil?" ...

"Quelle idée, ma tante!... Why, there was no one there. At least, there were many sympathetic, agreeable people, but nobody of that sort." ...

And Mimotchka, smiling her old Petersburg smile, shakes her head in denial.

"And is nature really so beautiful there?" asks Aunt Julia; "Vava goes into ecstasies about the mountains."

"But they didn't see anything," said Spiridon Ivanovitch regretfully. "How was it you never went to Bermamout? Why, I wrote and told you to go. To be at Kislovodsk and not go to Bermamout! Oh, you!... you were among the real mountains and never went to see them."

"But there was no one to go with," said Mimotchka, defending herself. "The X---- 's had left before our arrival, and somehow we three never managed it alone. I really did so try to go and see everything."

"Yes, it must be very lovely there," says Aunt Mary, looking through the stereoscope at some views of the Caucasus that Vava had brought back. "How beautiful this is! What is it?"

"This?" says Mimotchka, bending over Aunt Mary to look through the stereoscope. "This is the 'Castle of Love and Treachery.' They are rocks that look like a castle, and that is what they are called."

"And is it really as beautiful? Did you go there?"

"Yes, I went there on horseback.... It's very beautiful, especially by moon-light--c'est féerique."

End of Project Gutenberg's Mimi's Marriage, by Lidia Ivanovna Veselitskaya