LITMIR.BIZ

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probability this ballad reminded you of old times; very likely it reminded you of that very vicomtesse with whom you used once to sing, and of whom you were speaking to-day; well, and then, when you went up for your nap and lay down, thinking of the delightful impressions made upon you by the ballad and all, you dreamed that you were in love and made an offer of marriage to the lady who had inspired you with that feeling.”

      Maria Alexandrovna was struck dumb by this display of barefaced audacity.

      “Why, ye — yes, my boy, yes, of course; that’s exactly how it really wa — as!” cried the prince, in an ecstasy of delight. “Of course it was the de — lightful impressions that caused me to dream it. I certainly re — member the song; and then I went away and dreamed about my pro — posal, and that I really wished to marry! The viscountess was there too. How beautifully you have unravelled the diffi — culty, my dear boy. Well, now I am quite convinced that it was all a dream. Maria Alex — androvna! I assure you, you are under a delu — usion: it was a dream. I should not think of trifling with your feelings otherwise.”

      “Oh, indeed! Now I perceive very clearly whom we have to thank for making this dirty mess of our affairs!” cried Maria Alexandrovna, beside herself with rage, and turning to Mosgliakoff: “You are the man, sir — the dishonest person. It is you who stirred up this mud! It is you that puzzled an unhappy old idiot into this eccentric behaviour, because you yourself were rejected! But we shall be quits, my friend, for this offence! You shall pay, you shall pay! Wait a bit, my dishonest friend; wait a bit!”

      “Maria Alexandrovna!” cried Mosgliakoff, blushing in his turn until he looked as red as a boiled lobster, “your words are so, so —— to such an extent — I really don’t know how to express my opinion of you. No lady would ever permit herself to — to — . At all events I am but protecting my relative. You must allow that to allure an old man like this is, is —— .”

      “Quite so, quite so; allure,” began the prince, trying to hide himself behind Mosgliakoff.

      “Afanassy Matveyevitch!” cried Maria Alexandrovna, in unnatural tones; “do you hear, sir, how these people are shaming and insulting me? Have you quite exempted yourself from all the responsibilities of a man? Or are you actually a — a wooden block, instead of the father of a family? What do you stand blinking there for? eh! Any other husband would have wiped out such an insult to his family with the blood of the offender long ago.”

      “Wife!” began Afanassy, solemnly, delighted, and proud to find that a need for him had sprung up for once in his life. “Wife, are you quite certain, now, that you did not dream all this? You might so easily have fallen asleep and dreamed it, and then muddled it all up with what really happened, you know, and so — —”

      But Afanassy Matveyevitch was never destined to complete his ingenious, but unlucky guess.

      Up to this moment the guests had all restrained themselves, and had managed, cleverly enough, to keep up an appearance of solid and judicial interest in the proceedings. But at the first sound, almost, of Afanassy’s voice, a burst of uncontrollable laughter rose like a tempest from all parts of the room.

      Maria Alexandrovna, forgetting all the laws of propriety in her fury, tried to rush at her unlucky consort; but she was held back by force, or, doubtless, she would have scratched out that gentleman’s eyes.

      Natalia Dimitrievna took advantage of the occasion to add a little, if only a little, drop more of poison to the bitter cup.

      “But, dear Maria Alexandrovna,” she said, in the sweetest honied tones, “perhaps it may be that it really was so, as your husband suggests, and that you are actually under a strange delusion?”

      “How! What was a delusion?” cried Maria Alexandrovna, not quite catching the remark.

      “Why, my dear Maria, I was saying, mightn’t it have been so, dear, after all? These sort of things do happen sometimes, you know!”

      “What sort of things do happen, eh? What are you trying to do with me? What am I to make of you?”

      “Why, perhaps, dear, you really did dream it all!”

      “What? dream it! I dreamed it? And you dare suggest such a thing to me — straight to my face?”

      “Oh, why not? Perhaps it really was the case,” observed Felisata Michaelovna.

      “Ye — yes, quite so, very likely it act — ually was the case,” muttered the old prince.

      “He, too — gracious Heaven!” cried poor Maria Alexandrovna, wringing her hands.

      “Dear me, how you do worry yourself, Maria Alexandrovna. You should remember that dreams are sent us by a good Providence. If Providence so wills it, there is no more to be said. Providence gives the word, and we can neither weep nor be angry at its dictum.”

      “Quite so, quite so. We can’t be a — angry about it,” observed the prince.

      “Look here; do you take me for a lunatic, or not?” said Maria Alexandrovna. She spoke with difficulty, so dreadfully was she panting with fury. It was more than flesh and blood could stand. She hurriedly grasped a chair, and fell fainting into it. There was a scene of great excitement.

      “She has fainted in obedience to the laws of propriety!” observed Natalia Dimitrievna to Mrs. Antipova. But at this moment — at this moment when the general bewilderment and confusion had reached its height, and when the scene was strained to the last possible point of excitement, another actor suddenly stepped to the front; one who had been silent hitherto, but who immediately threw quite a different complexion on the scene.

      CHAPTER XIV.

       Table of Contents

       Zenaida, or Zina Afanassievna, was an individual of an extremely romantic turn of mind.

      I don’t know whether it really was that she had read too much of “that fool Shakespeare,” with her “little tutor fellow,” as Maria Alexandrovna insisted; but, at all events she was very romantic. However, never, in all her experience of Mordasoff life, had Zina before made such an ultra-romantic, or perhaps I might call it heroic, display as on the occasion of the sally which I am now about to describe.

      Pale, and with resolution in her eyes, yet almost trembling with agitation, and wonderfully beautiful in her anger and scorn, she stepped to the front.

      Gazing around at all, defiantly, she approached her mother in the midst of the sudden silence which had fallen on all present. Her mother roused herself from her swoon at the first indication of a projected movement on Zina’s part, and she now opened her eyes.

      “Mamma!” cried Zina, “why should we deceive anyone? Why befoul ourselves with more lies? Everything is so foul already that surely it is not worth while to bemean ourselves any further by attempting to gloss over the filth!”

      “Zina, Zina! what are you thinking of? Do recollect yourself!” cried Maria Alexandrovna, frightened out of her wits, and jumping briskly up from her chair.

      “I told you, mamma — I told you before, that I should not be able to last out the length of this shameful and ignominious business!” continued Zina. “Surely we need no further bemean and befoul ourselves! I will take it all on myself, mamma. I am the basest of all, for lending myself, of my own free will, to this abominable intrigue! You are my mother; you love me, I know, and you wished to arrange matters for my happiness, as you thought best, and according to your lights. Your conduct, therefore, is pardonable; but mine! oh, no! never, never!”

      “Zina, Zina! surely you are not going to tell the whole story? Oh! woe, woe! I felt that the knife would pierce my heart!”

      “Yes, mamma, I shall tell all; I am disgraced, you — we all of us are disgraced — —”

      “Zina, you are exaggerating! you are beside yourself; and you don’t know what

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