LITMIR.BIZ

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Natalia Dimitrievna.

      “But—goodness gracious, Sophia Petrovna!” cried the hostess, flushing with annoyance; “what is it all about? Do show a little common sense!”

      “Oh, don't bother about me, Maria Alexandrovna, thank you! I know all about it—oh, dear me, yes!—I know all about it!” cried Sophia Petrovna, in her shrill squeaky voice, from among the crowd of guests who now surrounded her, and who seemed to derive immense satisfaction from this unexpected scene. “Oh, yes, I know all about it, I assure you! Your friend Nastasia came over and told me all! You got hold of the old prince, made him drunk and persuaded him to make an offer of marriage to your daughter Zina—whom nobody else will marry; and I daresay you suppose you are going to be a very great lady, indeed—a sort of duchess in lace and jewellery. Tfu! Don't flatter yourself; you may not be aware that I, too, am a colonel's lady! and if you don't care to ask me to your betrothal parties, you needn't: I scorn and despise you and your parties too! I've seen honester women than you, you know! I have dined at Countess Zalichvatsky's; a chief commissioner proposed for my hand! A lot I care for your invitations. Tfu!”

      “Look here, Sophia Petrovna,” said Maria Alexandrovna, beside herself with rage; “I assure you that people do not indulge in this sort of sally at respectable houses; especially in the condition you are now in! And let me tell you that if you do not immediately relieve me of your presence and eloquence, I shall be obliged to take the matter into my own hands!”

      “Oh, I know—you'll get your people to turn me out! Don't trouble yourself—I know the way out! Good-bye,—marry your daughter to whom you please, for all I care. And as for you, Natalia Dimitrievna, I will thank you not to laugh at me! I may not have been asked here, but at all events I did not dance a can-can for the prince's benefit. What may you be laughing at, Mrs. Antipova? I suppose you haven't heard that your great friend Lushiloff has broken his leg?—he has just been taken home. Tfu! Good-bye, Maria Alexandrovna—good luck to you! Tfu!”

      Sophia Petrovna now disappeared. All the guests laughed; Maria Alexandrovna was in a state of indescribable fury.

      “I think the good lady must have been drinking!” said Natalia Dimitrievna, sweetly.

      “But what audacity!”

      “Quelle abominable femme!”

      “What a raving lunatic!”

      “But really, what excessively improper things she says!”

      “Yes, but what could she have meant by a 'betrothal party?' What sort of a betrothal party is this?” asked Felisata Michaelovna innocently.

      “It is too bad—too bad!” Maria Alexandrovna burst out at last. “It is just such abominable women as this that sow nonsensical rumours about! it is not the fact that there are such women about, Felisata Michaelovna, that is so surprising; the astonishing part of the matter is that ladies can be found who support and encourage them, and believe their abominable tales, and——”

      “The prince, the prince!” cried all the guests at once.

      “Oh, oh, here he is—the dear, dear prince!”

      “Well, thank goodness, we shall hear all the particulars now!” murmured Felisata Michaelovna to her neighbour.

Chapter 13

      The prince entered and smiled benignly around.

      All the agitation which his conversation with Mosgliakoff, a quarter of an hour since, had aroused in his chicken-heart vanished at the sight of the ladies.

      Those gentle creatures received him with chirps and exclamations of joy. Ladies always petted our old friend the prince, and were—as a rule—wonderfully familiar with him. He had a way of amusing them with his own individuality which was astonishing! Only this morning Felisata Michaelovna had announced that she would sit on his knee with the greatest pleasure, if he liked; “because he was such a dear old pet of an old man!”

      Maria Alexandrovna fastened her eyes on him, to read—if she could—if it were but the slightest indication of his state of mind, and to get a possible idea for a way out of this horribly critical position. But there was nothing to be made of his face; it was just as before—just as ever it was!

      “Ah—h! here's the prince at last!” cried several voices. “Oh, Prince, how we have waited and waited for you!”

      “With impatience, Prince, with impatience!” another chorus took up the strain.

      “Dear me, how very flat—tering!” said the old man, settling himself near the tea-table.

      The ladies immediately surrounded him. There only remained Natalia Dimitrievna and Mrs. Antipova with the hostess. Afanassy stood and smiled with great courtesy.

      Mosgliakoff also smiled as he gazed defiantly at Zina, who, without taking the slightest notice of him, took a chair near her father, and sat down at the fireside.

      “Prince, do tell us—is it true that you are about to leave us so soon?” asked Felisata Michaelovna.

      “Yes, yes, mesdames; I am going abroad almost im—mediately!”

      “Abroad, Prince, abroad? Why, what can have caused you to take such a step as that?” cried several ladies at once.

      “Yes—yes, abroad,” said the prince; “and do you know it is principally for the sake of the new i—deas——”

      “How, new ideas? what new ideas—what does he mean?” the astonished ladies asked of one another.

      “Ye—yes. Quite so—new ideas!” repeated the prince with an air of deep conviction, “everybody goes abroad now for new ideas, and I'm going too, to see if I can pick any up.”

      Up to this moment Maria Alexandrovna had listened to the conversation observantly; but it now struck her that the prince had entirely forgotten her existence—which would not do!

      “Allow me, Prince, to introduce my husband, Afanassy Matveyevitch. He hastened up from our country seat so soon as ever he heard of your arrival in our house.”

      Afanassy, under the impression that he was being praised, smiled amiably and beamed all over.

      “Very happy, very happy—Afanassy Mat—veyevitch!” said the prince. “Wait a moment: your name reminds me of something, Afanassy Mat—veyevitch; ye—yes, you are the man down at the village! Charming, charm—ing! Very glad, I'm sure. Do you remember, my boy,” (to Paul) “the nice little rhyme we fitted out to him? What was it?”

      “Oh, I know, prince,” said Felisata Michaelovna—

      “‘When the husband's away

      The wife will play!”

      “Wasn't that it? We had it last year at the theatre.”

      “Yes, yes, quite so, ye—yes, ‘the wife will play!’ That's it: charming, charming. So you are that ve—ry man? Dear me, I'm very glad, I'm sure,” said the prince, stretching out his hand, but not rising from his chair. “Dear me, and how is your health, my dear sir?”

      “H'm!”

      “Oh, he's quite well, thank you, prince, quite well,” answered Maria Alexandrovna quickly.

      “Ye—yes, I see he is—he looks it! And are you still at the vill—age? Dear me, very pleased, I'm sure; why, how red he looks, and he's always laugh—ing.”

      Afanassy smiled and bowed, and even “scraped,” as the prince spoke, but at the last observation he suddenly, and without warning or apparent reason, burst into loud fits of laughter.

      The ladies were delighted. Zina flushed up, and with flashing eyes darted a look at her mother, who, in her turn, was boiling over with rage.

      It was time to change the conversation.

      “Did

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