Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky (74 page)

“Good heavens, what nonsense! I do assure you you are in error from the very first step — from the first and most important step! Understand, that I do not care to make a martyr of myself for some unknown reason! Know, also, that I shall not marry anyone at all; I shall remain a maid. You have bitten my head off for the last two years because I would not marry. Well, you must accept the fact, and make the best of it; that’s all I can say, and so it shall be!”

“But Zina, darling — my Zina, don’t be so cross before you have heard me out! What a hot-headed little person you are, to be sure! Let me show you the matter from my point of view, and you’ll agree with me — you really will! The prince will live a year — two at most; and surely it is better to be a young widow than a decayed old maid! Not to mention the fact that you will be a princess — free, rich, independent! I dare say you look with contempt upon all these calculations — founded upon his death; but I am a mother, and what mother will blame me for my foresight?

“And if you, my angel of kindness, are unwilling to marry, even now, out of tenderness for that wretched boy’s feelings, oh, think, think how, by marrying this prince, you will rejoice his heart and soothe and comfort his soul! For if he has a single particle of commonsense, he must understand that jealousy of this old man were
too
absurd —
too
ridiculous! He will understand that you marry him — for money, for convenience; that stern necessity compels you to it!

“And lastly, he will understand that — that, — well I simply wish to say, that, upon the prince’s death, you will be at liberty to marry whomsoever you please.”

“That’s a truly simple arrangement! All I have to do is to marry this prince, rob him of his money, and then count upon his death in order to marry my lover! You are a clever arithmetician, mamma; you do your sums and get your totals nicely. You wish to seduce me by offering me this! Oh, I understand you, mamma — I understand you well! You cannot resist the expression of your noble sentiments and exalted ideas, even in the manufacture of a nasty business. Why can’t you say simply and straightforwardly, ‘Zina, this is a dirty affair, but it will pay us, so please agree with me?’ at all events, that would be candid and frank on your part.”

“But, my dear child, why,
why
look at it from this point of view? Why look at it under the light of suspicion as
deceit
, and low cunning, and covetousness? You consider my calculations as meanness, as deceit; but, by all that is good and true, where is the meanness? Show me the deceit. Look at yourself in the glass: you are so beautiful, that a kingdom would be a fair price for you! And suddenly you, you, the possessor of this divine beauty, sacrifice yourself, in order to soothe the last years of an old man’s life! You would be like a beautiful star, shedding your light over the evening of his days. You would be like the fresh green ivy, twining in and about his old age; not the stinging nettle that this wretched woman at his place is, fastening herself upon him, and thirstily sucking his blood! Surely his money, his rank are not worthy of being put in the scales beside
you
? Where is the meanness of it; where is the deceit of all this? You don’t know what you are saying, Zina.”

“I suppose they
are
worthy of being weighed against me, if I am to marry a cripple for them! No, mother, however you look at it, it is deceit, and you can’t get out of
that
!”

“On the contrary, my dear child, I can look at it from a high, almost from an exalted — nay, Christian — point of view. You, yourself, told me once, in a fit of temporary insanity of some sort, that you wished to be a sister of charity. You had suffered; you said your heart could love no more. If, then, you cannot love, turn your thoughts to the higher aspect of the case. This poor old man has also suffered — he is unhappy. I have known him, and felt the deepest sympathy towards him — akin to love, — for many a year. Be his friend, his daughter, be his plaything, even, if you like; but warm his old heart, and you are doing a good work — a virtuous, kind, noble work of love.

“He may be funny to look at; don’t think of that. He’s but half a man — pity him! You are a Christian girl — do whatever is right by him; and this will be medicine for your own heart-wounds; employment, action, all this will heal you too, and where is the deceit here? But you do not believe me. Perhaps you think that I am deceiving myself when I thus talk of duty and of action. You think that I, a woman of the world, have no right to good feeling and the promptings of duty and virtue. Very well, do not trust me, if you like: insult me, do what you please to your poor mother; but you will have to admit that her words carry the stamp of good sense, — they are saving words! Imagine that someone else is talking to you, not I. Shut your eyes, and fancy that some invisible being is speaking. What is worrying you is the idea that all this is for money — a sort of sale or purchase. Very well, then
refuse
the money, if it is so loathsome to your eyes. Leave just as much as is absolutely necessary for yourself, and give the rest to the poor. Help
him
, if you like, the poor fellow who lies there a-dying!”

“He would never accept my help!” muttered Zina, as though to herself.

“He would not, but his mother would!” said Maria Alexandrovna. “She would take it, and keep her secret. You sold your ear-rings, a present from your aunt, half a year or so ago, and helped her;
I
know all about it! I know, too, that the woman washes linen in order to support her unfortunate son!”

“He will soon be where he requires no more help!”

“I know, I understand your hints.” Maria Alexandrovna sighed a real sigh. “They say he is in a consumption, and must die.

“But
who
says so?

“I asked the doctor the other day, because, having a tender heart, Zina, I felt interested in the poor fellow. The doctor said that he was convinced the malady was
not
consumption; that it was dangerous, no doubt, but still
not
consumption, only some severe affection of the lungs. Ask him yourself! He certainly told me that under different conditions — change of climate and of his style of living, — the sick man might well recover. He said — and I have read it too, somewhere, that off Spain there is a wonderful island, called Malaga — I think it was Malaga; anyhow, the name was like some wine, where, not only ordinary sufferers from chest maladies, but even consumptive patients, recover entirely, solely by virtue of the climate, and that sick people go there on purpose to be cured.

“Oh, but Spain — the Alhambra alone — and the lemons, and the riding on mules. All this is enough in itself to impress a poetical nature. You think he would not accept your help, your money — for such a journey? Very well — deceit is permissible where it may save a man’s life.

“Give him hope, too! Promise him your love; promise to marry him when you are a widow! Anything in the world can be said with care and tact! Your own mother would not counsel you to an ignoble deed, Zina. You will do as I say, to save this boy’s life; and with this object, everything is permissible! You will revive his hope; he will himself begin to think of his health, and listen to what the doctor says to him. He will do his best to resuscitate his dead happiness; and if he gets well again, even if you never marry him, you will have saved him — raised him from the dead!

“I can look at him with some sympathy. I admit I can, now! Perhaps sorrow has changed him for the better; and I say frankly, if he should be worthy of you when you become a widow, marry him, by all means! You will be rich then, and independent. You can not only cure him, but, having done so, you can give him position in the world — a career! Your marriage to him will then be possible and pardonable, not, as now, an absolute impossibility!

“For what would become of both of you were you to be capable of such madness
now
? Universal contempt, beggary; smacking little boys, which is part of his duty; the reading of Shakespeare; perpetual, hopeless life in Mordasoff; and lastly his certain death, which will undoubtedly take place before long unless he is taken away from here!

“While, if you resuscitate him — if you raise him from the dead, as it were, you raise him to a good, useful, and virtuous life! He may then enter public life — make himself rank, and a name! At the least, even if he must die, he will die happy, at peace with himself, in your arms — for he will be by then assured of your love and forgiveness of the past, and lying beneath the scent of myrtles and lemons, beneath the tropical sky of the South. Oh, Zina, all this is within your grasp, and all — all is
gain
. Yes, and all to be had by merely marrying this prince.”

Maria Alexandrovna broke off, and for several minutes there was silence; not a word was said on either side: Zina was in a state of indescribable agitation. I say indescribable because I will not attempt to describe Zina’s feelings: I cannot guess at them; but I
think
that Maria Alexandrovna had found the road to her heart.

Not knowing how her words had sped with her daughter, Maria Alexandrovna now began to work her busy brain to imagine and prepare herself for every possible humour that Zina might prove to be in; but at last she concluded that she had happened upon the right track after all. Her rude hand had touched the sorest place in Zina’s heart, but her crude and absurd sentimental twaddle had not blinded her daughter. “However, that doesn’t matter” — thought the mother. “All I care to do is to make her
think
; I wish my ideas to stick!” So she reflected, and she gained her end; the effect was made — the arrow reached the mark. Zina had listened hungrily as her mother spoke; her cheeks were burning, her breast heaved.

“Listen, mother,” she said at last, with decision; though the sudden pallor of her face showed clearly what the decision had cost her. “Listen mother — —” But at this moment a sudden noise in the entrance hall, and a shrill female voice, asking for Maria Alexandrovna, interrupted Zina, while her mother jumped up from her chair.

“Oh! the devil fly away with this magpie of a woman!” cried the latter furiously. “Why, I nearly drove her out by force only a fortnight ago!” she added, almost in despair. “I can’t, I can’t receive her now. Zina, this question is too important to be put off: she must have news for me or she never would have dared to come. I won’t receive the old —— Oh!
how
glad I am to see you, dear Sophia Petrovna. What lucky chance brought
you
to see me? What a
charming
surprise!” said Maria Alexandrovna, advancing to receive her guest.

Zina escaped out of the room.

CHAPTER VI.

Mrs. Colonel Tarpuchin, or Sophia Petrovna, was only morally like a magpie; she was more akin to the sparrow tribe, viewed physically. She was a little bit of a woman of fifty summers or so, with lively eyes, and yellow patches all over her face. On her little wizened body and spare limbs she wore a black silk dress, which was perpetually on the rustle: for this little woman could never sit still for an instant.

This was the most inveterate and bitterest scandal-monger in the town. She took her stand on the fact that she was a Colonel’s wife, though she often fought with her husband, the Colonel, and scratched his face handsomely on such occasions.

Add to this, that it was her custom to drink four glasses of “vodki” at lunch, or earlier, and four more in the evening; and that she hated Mrs. Antipova to madness.

“I’ve just come in for a minute,
mon ange
,” she panted; “it’s no use sitting down — no time! I wanted to let you know what’s going on, simply that the whole town has gone mad over this prince. Our ‘beauties,’ you know what I mean! are all after him, fishing for him, pulling him about, giving him champagne — you would not believe it!
would
you now? How on earth you could ever have let him out of the house, I can’t understand! Are you aware that he’s at Natalia Dimitrievna’s at this moment?”

“At
Natalia Dimitrievna’s
?” cried Maria Alexandrovna jumping up. “Why, he was only going to see the Governor, and then call in for one moment at the Antipova’s!”

“Oh, yes, just for one moment — of course! Well, catch him if you can, there! That’s all I can say. He found the Governor ‘out,’ and went on to Mrs. Antipova’s, where he has promised to dine. There Natalia caught him — she is never away from Mrs. Antipova nowadays, — and persuaded him to come away with her to lunch. So there’s your prince! catch him if you can!”

“But how — Mosgliakoff’s with him — he promised—”

“Mosgliakoff, indeed, — why, he’s gone too! and they’ll be playing at cards and clearing him out before he knows where he is! And the things Natalia is saying, too — out loud if you please! She’s telling the prince to his face that you,
you
have got hold of him with certain views —
vous comprenez
?”

“She calmly tells him this to his face! Of course he doesn’t understand a word of it, and simply sits there like a soaked cat, and says ‘Ye — yes!’ And would you believe it, she has trotted out her Sonia — a girl of fifteen, in a dress down to her knees — my word on it? Then she has sent for that little orphan — Masha; she’s in a short dress too, — why, I swear it doesn’t reach her knees. I looked at it carefully through my pince-nez! She’s stuck red caps with some sort of feathers in them on their heads, and set them to dance some silly dance to the piano accompaniment for the prince’s benefit! You know his little weakness as to our sex, — well, you can imagine him staring at them through his glass and saying, ‘
Charmant!
— What figures!’ Tfu! They’ve turned the place into a music hall! Call that a dance! I was at school at Madame Jarne’s, I know, and there were plenty of princesses and countesses there with me, too; and I know I danced before senators and councillors, and earned their applause, too: but as for this dance — it’s a low can-can, and nothing more! I simply
burned
with shame, — I couldn’t stand it, and came out.”