contented with his fate?… What! would you care to change places with him? Remember your mother; how infinitely little she asked of life, and what a life fell to her lot. You were only bragging it seems when you said to Panshin that you had come back to Russia to cultivate the soil; you have come back to dangle after young girls in your old age. Directly the news of your freedom came, you threw up everything, forgot everything; you ran like a boy after a butterfly.»….
The image of Lisa continually presented itself in the midst of his broodings. He drove it away with an effort together with another importunate figure, other serenely wily, beautiful, hated features. Old Anton noticed that the master was not himself: after sighing several times outside the door and several times in the doorway, he made up his mind to go up to him, and advised him to take a hot drink of something. Lavretsky swore at him; ordered him out; afterwards he begged his pardon, but that only made Anton still more sorrowful. Lavretsky could not stay in the drawing-room; it seemed to him that his great-grandfather Andrey, was looking contemptuously from the canvas at his feeble descendant. «Bah: you swim in shallow water,» the distorted lips seemed to be saying. «Is it possible,» he thought, «that I cannot master myself, that I am going to give in to this… nonsense?» (Those who are badly wounded in war always call their wounds «nonsense.» If man did not deceive himself, he could not live on earth.) «Am I really a boy? Ah, well; I saw quite close, I almost held in my hands the possibility of happiness for my whole life; yes, in the lottery too—turn the wheel a little and the beggar perhaps would be a rich man. If it does not happen, then it does not—and it’s all over. I will set to work, with my teeth clenched, and make myself be quiet; it’s as well, it’s not the first time I have had to hold myself in. And why have I run away, why am I stopping here sticking my head in a bush, like an ostrich? A fearful thing to face trouble… nonsense! Anton,» he called aloud, «order the coach to be brought round at once. Yes,» he thought again, «I must grin and bear it, I must keep myself well in hand.»
With such reasonings Lavretsky tried to ease his pain; but it was deep and intense; and even Apraxya who had outlived all emotion as well as intelligence shook her head and followed him mournfully with her eyes, as he took his seat in the coach to drive to the town. The horses galloped away; he sat upright and motionless, and looked fixedly at the road before him.
Chapter XLII
Lisa had written to Lavretsky the day before, to tell him to come in the evening; but he first went home to his lodgings. He found neither his wife nor his daughter at home; from the servants he learned that she had gone with the child to the Kalitins’. This information astounded and maddened him. «Varvara Pavlovna has made up her mind not to let me live at all, it seems,» he thought with a passion of hatred in his heart. He began to walk up and down, and his hands and feet were constantly knocking up against child’s toys, books and feminine belongings; he called Justine and told her to clear away all this «litter.» «Oui, monsieur,» she said with a grimace, and began to set the room in order, stooping gracefully, and letting Lavretsky feel in every movement that she regarded him as an unpolished bear.
He looked with aversion at her faded, but still «piquante,» ironical, Parisian face, at her white elbow-sleeves, her silk apron, and little light cap. He sent her away at last, and after long hesitation (as Varvara Pavlovna still did not return) he decided to go to the Kalitins’—not to see Marya Dmitrievna (he would not for anything in the world have gone into that drawing-room, the room where his wife was), but to go up to Marfa Timofyevna’s. He remembered that the back staircase from the servants’ entrance led straight to her apartment. He acted on this plan; fortune favoured him; he met Shurotchka in the court-yard; she conducted him up to Marfa Timofyevna’s. He found her, contrary to her usual habit, alone; she was sitting without a cap in a corner, bent, and her arms crossed over her breast. The old lady was much upset on seeing Lavretsky, she got up quickly and began to move to and fro in the room as if she were looking for her cap.
«Ah, it’s you,» she began, fidgeting about and avoiding meeting his eyes, «well, how do you do? Well, well, what’s to be done! Where were you yesterday? Well, she has come, so there, there! Well, it must… one way or another.»
Lavretsky dropped into a chair.
«Well, sit down, sit down,» the old lady went on. «Did you come straight up-stairs? Well, there, of course. So… you came to see me? Thanks.»
The old lady was silent for a little; Lavretsky did not know what to say to her; but she understood him.
«Lisa… yes, Lisa was here just now,» pursued Marfa Timofyevna, tying and untying the tassels of her reticule. «She was not quite well. Shurotchka, where are you? Come here, my girl; why can’t you sit still a little? My head aches too. It must be the effect of the singing and music.»
«What singing, auntie?»
«Why, we have been having those—upon my word, what do you call them—duets here. And all in Italian: chi-chi—and cha-cha—like magpies for all the world with their long drawn-out notes as if they’d pull your very soul out. That’s Panshin, and your wife too. And how quickly everything was settled; just as though it were all among relations, without ceremony. However, one may well say, even a dog will try to find a home; and won’t be lost so long as folks don’t drive it out.»
«Still, I confess I did not expect this,» rejoined Lavretsky; «there must be great effrontery to do this.»
«No, my darling, it’s not effrontery, it’s calculation, God forgive her! They say you are sending her off to Lavriky; is it true?»
«Yes, I am giving up that property to Varvara Pavlovna.»
«Has she asked you for money?»
«Not yet.»
«Well, that won’t be long in coming. But I have only now got a look at you. Are you quite well?»
«Yes.»
«Shurotchka!» cried Marfa Timofyevna suddenly, «run and tell Lisaveta Mihalovna,—at least, no, ask her… is she down-stairs?»
«Yes.»
«Well, then; ask her where she put my book? she will know.»
«Very well.»
The old lady grew fidgety again and began opening a drawer in the chest. Lavretsky sat still without stirring in his place.
All at once light footsteps were heard on the stairs—and Lisa came in.
Lavretsky stood up and bowed; Lisa remained at the door.
«Lisa, Lisa, darling,» began Marfa Timofyevna eagerly, «where is my book? where did you put my book?»
«What book, auntie?»
«Why, goodness me, that book! But I didn’t call you though… There, it doesn’t matter. What are you doing down-stairs? Here Fedor Ivanitch has come. How is your head?»
«It’s nothing.»
«You keep saying it’s nothing. What have you going on down-stairs—music?»
«No—they are playing cards.»
«Well, she’s ready for anything. Shurotchka, I see you want a run in the garden—run along.»
«Oh, no, Marfa Timofyevna.»
«Don’t argue, if you please, run along. Nastasya Karpovna has gone out into the garden all by herself; you keep her company. You must treat the old with respect.»—Shurotchka departed—»But where is my cap? Where has it got to?»
«Let me look for it,» said Lisa.
«Sit down, sit down; I have still the use of my legs. It must be inside in my bedroom.»
And flinging a sidelong glance in Lavretsky’s direction, Marfa Timofyevna went out. She left the door open; but suddenly she came back to it and shut it.
Lisa leant back against her chair and quietly covered her face with her hands; Lavretsky remained where he was.
«This is how we were to meet again!» he brought out at last.
Lisa took her hands from her face.
«Yes,» she said faintly: «we were quickly punished.»
«Punished,» said Lavretsky…. «What had you done to be punished?»
Lisa raised her eyes to him. There was neither sorrow or disquiet expressed in them; they seemed smaller and dimmer. Her face was pale; and pale too her slightly parted lips.
Lavretsky’s heart shuddered for pity and love.
«You wrote to me; all is over,» he whispered, «yes, all is over—before it had begun.»
«We must forget all that,» Lisa brought out; «I am glad that you have come; I wanted to write to you, but it is better so. Only we must take advantage quickly of these minutes. It is left for both of us to do our duty. You, Fedor Ivanitch, must be reconciled with your wife.»
«Lisa!»
«I beg you to do so; by that alone can we expiate… all that has happened. You will think about it—and will not refuse me.»
«Lisa, for God’s sake,—you are asking what is impossible. I am ready to do everything you tell me; but to be reconciled to her now!… I consent to everything, I have forgotten everything; but I cannot force my heart…. Indeed, this is cruel!
«I do not even ask of you… what you say; do not live with her, if you cannot; but be reconciled,» replied Lisa and again she hid her eyes in her hand.—»remember your little girl; do it for my sake.»
«Very well,» Lavretsky muttered between his teeth: «I will do that, I suppose in that I
