_ Chapter XV
Anna Vassilyevna, as the reader knows already, liked staying at home;
but at times she manifested, quite unexpectedly, an irresistible longing
for something out of the common, some extraordinary _partie du
plaisir_, and the more troublesome the _partie du plaisir_ was, the
more preparations and arrangements it required, and the greater Anna
Vassilyevna's own agitation over it, the more pleasure it gave her. If
this mood came upon her in winter, she would order two or three boxes
to be taken side by side, and, inviting all her acquaintances, would set
off to the theatre or even to a masquerade; in summer she would drive
for a trip out of town to some spot as far off as possible. The next day
she would complain of a headache, groan and keep her bed; but within two
months the same craving for something 'out of the common' would break
out in her again. That was just what happened now. Some one chanced
to refer to the beautiful scenery of Tsaritsino before her, and Anna
Vassilyevna suddenly announced an intention of driving to Tsaritsino the
day after tomorrow. The household was thrown into a state of bustle;
a messenger galloped off to Moscow for Nikolai Artemyevitch; with him
galloped the butler to buy wines, pies, and all sorts of provisions;
Shubin was commissioned to hire an open carriage--the coach alone was
not enough--and to order relays of horses to be ready; a page was
twice despatched to Bersenyev and Insarov with two different notes of
invitation, written by Zoya, the first in Russian, the second in French;
Anna Vassilyevna herself was busy over the dresses of the young ladies
for the expedition. Meanwhile the _partie du plaisir_ was very near
coming to grief. Nikolai Artemyevitch arrived from Moscow in a sour,
ill-natured, _frondeurish_ frame of mind. He was still sulky with
Augustina Christianovna; and when he heard what the plan was, he flatly
declared that he would not go; that to go trotting from Kuntsovo to
Moscow and from Moscow to Tsaritsino, and then from Tsaritsino again to
Moscow, from Moscow again to Kuntsovo, was a piece of folly; and, 'in
fact,' he added, 'let them first prove to my satisfaction, that one can
be merrier on one spot of the globe than another spot, and I will
go.' This, of course, no one could prove to his satisfaction, and Anna
Vassilyevna was ready to throw up the _partie du plaisir_ for lack of a
solid escort; but she recollected Uvar Ivanovitch, and in her distress
she sent to his room for him, saying: 'a drowning man catches at
straws.' They waked him up; he came down, listened in silence to Anna
Vassilyevna's proposition, and, to the general astonishment, with a
flourish of his fingers, he consented to go. Anna Vassilyevna kissed
him on the cheek, and called him a darling; Nikolai Artemyevitch smiled
contemptuously and said: _quelle bourde!_ (he liked on occasions to make
use of a 'smart' French word); and the following morning the coach and
the open carriage, well-packed, rolled out of the Stahovs' court-yard.
In the coach were the ladies, a maid, and Bersenyev; Insarov was seated
on the box; and in the open carriage were Uvar Ivanovitch and Shubin.
Uvar Ivanovitch had himself beckoned Shubin to him; he knew that
he would tease him the whole way, but there existed a queer sort of
attachment, marked by abusive candour, between the 'primeval force' and
the young artist. On this occasion, however, Shubin left his fat friend
in peace; he was absent-minded, silent, and gentle.
The sun stood high in a cloudless blue sky when the carriage drove up to
the ruins of Tsaritsino Castle, which looked gloomy and menacing, even
at mid-day. The whole party stepped out on to the grass, and at once
made a move towards the garden. In front went Elena and Zoya with
Insarov; Anna Vassilyevna, with an expression of perfect happiness on
her face, walked behind them, leaning on the arm of Uvar Ivanovitch. He
waddled along panting, his new straw hat cut his forehead, and his feet
twinged in his boots, but he was content; Shubin and Bersenyev brought
up the rear. 'We will form the reserve, my dear boy, like veterans,'
whispered Shubin to Bersenyev. 'Bulgaria's in it now!' he added,
indicating Elena with his eyebrows.
The weather was glorious. Everything around was flowering, humming,
singing; in the distance shone the waters of the lakes; a light-hearted
holiday mood took possession of all. 'Oh, how beautiful; oh, how
beautiful!' Anna Vassilyevna repeated incessantly; Uvar Ivanovitch
kept nodding his head approvingly in response to her enthusiastic
exclamations, and once even articulated: 'To be sure! to be sure!' From
time to time Elena exchanged a few words with Insarov; Zoya held the
brim of her large hat with two fingers while her little feet, shod in
light grey shoes with rounded toes, peeped coquettishly out from under
her pink barege dress; she kept looking to each side and then behind
her. 'Hey!' cried Shubin suddenly in a low voice, 'Zoya Nikitishna is
on the lookout, it seems. I will go to her. Elena Nikolaevna despises me
now, while you, Andrei Petrovitch, she esteems, which comes to the same
thing. I am going; I'm tired of being glum. I should advise you, my dear
fellow, to do some botanising; that's the best thing you could hit on in
your position; it might be useful, too, from a scientific point of
view. Farewell!' Shubin ran up to Zoya, offered her his arm, and saying:
'_Ihre Hand, Madame_' caught hold of her hand, and pushed on ahead with
her. Elena stopped, called to Bersenyev, and also took his arm,
but continued talking to Insarov. She asked him the words for
lily-of-the-valley, clover, oak, lime, and so on in his language...
'Bulgaria's in it!' thought poor Andrei Petrovitch.
Suddenly a shriek was heard in front; every one looked up. Shubin's
cigar-case fell into a bush, flung by Zoya's hand. 'Wait a minute, I'll
pay you out!' he shouted, as he crept into the bushes; he found his
cigar-case, and was returning to Zoya; but he had hardly reached her
side when again his cigar-case was sent flying across the road. Five
times this trick was repeated, he kept laughing and threatening her, but
Zoya only smiled slyly and drew herself together, like a little cat.
At last he snatched her fingers, and squeezed them so tightly that
she shrieked, and for a long time afterwards breathed on her hand,
pretending to be angry, while he murmured something in her ears.
'Mischievous things, young people,' Anna Vassilyevna observed gaily to
Uvar Ivanovitch.
He flourished his fingers in reply.
'What a girl Zoya Nikitishna is!' said Bersenyev to Elena.
'And Shubin? What of him?' she answered.
Meanwhile the whole party went into the arbour, well known as Pleasant
View arbour, and stopped to admire the view of the Tsaritsino lakes.
They stretched one behind the other for several miles, overshadowed by
thick woods. The bright green grass, which covered the hill sloping
down to the largest lake, gave the water itself an extraordinarily vivid
emerald colour. Even at the water's edge not a ripple stirred the
smooth surface. One might fancy it a solid mass of glass lying heavy and
shining in a huge font; the sky seemed to drop into its depths, while
the leafy trees gazed motionless into its transparent bosom. All were
absorbed in long and silent admiration of the view; even Shubin was
still; even Zoya was impressed. At last, all with one mind, began to
wish to go upon the water. Shubin, Insarov, and Bersenyev raced each
other over the grass. They succeeded in finding a large painted boat
and two boatmen, and beckoned to the ladies. The ladies stepped into
the boat; Uvar Ivanovitch cautiously lowered himself into it after
them. Great was the mirth while he got in and took his seat. 'Look out,
master, don't drown us,' observed one of the boatmen, a snubnosed
young fellow in a gay print shirt. 'Get along, you swell!' said Uvar
Ivanovitch. The boat pushed off. The young men took up the oars, but
Insarov was the oniy one of them who could row. Shubin suggested that
they should sing some Russian song in chorus, and struck up: 'Down
the river Volga'... Bersenyev, Zoya, and even Anna Vassilyevna, joined
in--Insarov could not sing--but they did not keep together; at the third
verse the singers were all wrong. Only Bersenyev tried to go on in
the bass, 'Nothing on the waves is seen,' but he, too, was soon in
difficulties. The boatmen looked at one another and grinned in silence.
'Eh?' said Shubin, turning to them, 'the gentlefolks can't sing, you
say?' The boy in the print shirt only shook his head. 'Wait a little
snubnose,' retorted Shubin, 'we will show you. Zoya Nikitishna, sing us
_Le lac_ of Niedermeyer. Stop rowing!' The wet oars stood still, lifted
in the air like wings, and their splash died away with a tuneful drip;
the boat drifted on a little, then stood still, rocking lightly on the
water like a swan. Zoya affected to refuse at first.... '_Allons_' said
Anna Vassilyevna genially.... Zoya took off her hat and began to sing:
'_O lac, l'annee a peine a fini sa carriere_!'
Her small, but pure voice, seemed to dart over the surface of the lake;
every word echoed far off in the woods; it sounded as though some one
were singing there, too, in a distinct, but mysterious and unearthly
voice. When Zoya finished, a loud bravo was heard from an arbour
near the bank, from which emerged several red-faced Germans who were
picnicking at Tsaritsino. Several of them had their coats off, their
ties, and even their waistcoats; and they shouted '_bis!_' with such
unmannerly insistence that Anna Vassilyevna told the boatmen to row as
quickly as possible to the other end of the lake. But before the boat
reached the bank, Uvar Ivanovitch once more succeeded in surprising his
friends; having noticed that in one part of the wood the echo repeated
every sound with peculiar distinctness, he suddenly began to call like a
quail. At first every one was startled, but they listened directly with
real pleasure, especially as Uvar Ivanovitch imitated the quail's cry
with great correctness. Spurred on by this, he tried mewing like a
cat; but this did not go off so well; and after one more quail-call, he
looked at them all and stopped. Shubin threw himself on him to kiss him;
he pushed him off. At that instant the boat touched the bank, and all
the party got out and went on shore.
Meanwhile the coachman, with the groom and the maid, had brought the
baskets out of the coach, and made dinner ready on the grass under the
old lime-trees. They sat down round the outspread tablecloth, and fell
upon the pies and other dainties. They all had excellent appetites,
while Anna Vassilyevna, with unflagging hospitality, kept urging the
guests to eat more, assuring them that nothing was more wholesome than
eating in the open air. She even encouraged Uvar Ivanovitch with such
assurances. 'Don't trouble about me!' he grunted with his mouth full.
'Such a lovely day is a God-send, indeed!' she repeated constantly.
One would not have known her; she seemed fully twenty years younger.
Bersenyev said as much to her. 'Yes, yes.' she said; 'I could hold my
own with any one in my day.' Shubin attached himself to Zoya, and kept
pouring her out wine; she refused it, he pressed her, and finished by
drinking the glass himself, and again pressing her to take another; he
also declared that he longed to lay his head on her knee; she would on
no account permit him 'such a liberty.' Elena seemed the most serious of
the party, but in her heart there was a wonderful sense of peace, such
as she had not known for long. She felt filled with boundless goodwill
and kindness, and wanted to keep not only Insarov, but Bersenyev too,
always at her side.... Andrei Petrovitch dimly understood what this
meant, and secretly he sighed.
The hours flew by; the evening was coming on. Anna Vassilyevna suddenly
took alarm. 'Ah, my dear friends, how late it is!' she cried. 'All
good things must have an end; it's time to go home.' She began bustling
about, and they all hastened to get up and walk towards the castle,
where the carriages were. As they walked past the lakes, they stopped
to admire Tsaritsino for the last time. The landscape on all sides
was glowing with the vivid hues of early evening; the sky was red, the
leaves were flashing with changing colours as they stirred in the rising
wind; the distant waters shone in liquid gold; the reddish turrets and
arbours scattered about the garden stood out sharply against the dark
green of the trees. 'Farewell, Tsaritsino, we shall not forget to-day's
excursion!' observed Anna Vassilyevna.... But at that instant, and as
though in confirmation of her words, a strange incident occurred, which
certainly was not likely to be forgotten.
This was what happened. Anna Vassilyevna had hardly sent her farewell
greeting to Tsaritsino, when suddenly, a few paces from her, behind
a high bush of lilac, were heard confused exclamations, shouts, and
laughter; and a whole mob of disorderly men, the same devotees of song
who had so energetically applauded Zoya, burst out on the path. These
musical gentlemen seemed excessively elevated. They stopped at the sight
of the ladies; but one of them, a man of immense height, with a bull
neck and a bull's goggle eyes, separated from his companions, and,
bowing clumsily and staggering unsteadily in his gait, approached Anna
Vassilyevna, who was petrified with alarm.
'_Bonzhoor, madame_,' he said thickly, 'how are you?'
Anna Vassilyevna started back.
'Why wouldn't you,' continued the giant in vile Russian, 'sing again
when our party shouted _bis_, and bravo?'
'Yes, why?' came from the ranks of his comrades.
Insarov was about to step forward, but Shubin stopped him, and himself
screened Anna Vassilyevna.
'Allow me,' he began, 'honoured stranger, to express to you the
heartfelt amazement, into which you have thrown all of us by your
conduct. You belong, as far as I can judge, to the Saxon branch of the
Caucasian race; consequently we are bound to assume your acquaintance
with the customs of society, yet you address a lady to whom you have not
been introduced. I assure you that I individually should be delighted
another time to make your acquaintance, since I observe in you a
phenomenal development of the muscles, biceps, triceps and deltoid, so
that, as a sculptor, I should esteem it a genuine happiness to have you
for a model; but on this occasion kindly leave us alone.'
The 'honoured stranger' listened to Shubin's speech, his head held
contemptuously on one side and his arms akimbo.
'I don't understand what you say,' he commented at last. 'Do you suppose
I'm a cobbler or a watchmaker? Hey! I'm an officer, an official, so
there.'
'I don't doubt that----' Shubin was beginning.
'What I say is,' continued the stranger, putting him aside with his
powerful arm, like a twig out of the path--'why didn't you sing again
when we shouted _bis_? And I'll go away directly, this minute, only I
tell you what I want, this fraulein, not that madam, no, not her, but
this one or that one (he pointed to Elena and Zoya) must give me _einen
Kuss_, as we say in German, a kiss, in fact; eh? That's not much to
ask.'
'_Einen Kuss_, that's not much,' came again from the ranks of his
companions, '_Ih! der Stakramenter!_' cried one tipsy German, bursting
with laughter.
Zoya clutched at Insarov's arm, but he broke away from her, and stood
directly facing the insolent giant.
'You will please to move off,' he said in a voice not loud but sharp.
The German gave a heavy laugh, 'Move off? Well, I like that. Can't I
walk where I please? Move off? Why should I move off?'
'Because you have dared to annoy a lady,' said Insarov, and suddenly he
turned white, 'because you're drunk.'
'Eh? me drunk? Hear what he says. _Horen Sie das, Herr Provisor_? I'm an
officer, and he dares... Now I demand _satisfaction_. _Einen Kuss will
ich_.'
'If you come another step nearer----' began Insarov.
'Well? What then'
'I'll throw you in the water!'
'In the water? _Herr Je_! Is that all? Well, let us see that, that would
be very curious, too.'
The officer lifted his fists and moved forward, but suddenly something
extraordinary happened. He uttered an exclamation, his whole bulky
person staggered, rose from the ground, his legs kicking in the air, and
before the ladies had time to shriek, before any one had time to realise
how it had happened, the officer's massive figure went plop with a heavy
splash, and at once disappeared under the eddying water.
'Oh!' screamed the ladies with one voice. '_Mein Gott_!' was heard from
the other side. An instant passed... and a round head, all plastered
over with wet hair, showed above water, it was blowing bubbles, this
head; and floundering with two hands just at its very lips. 'He will be
drowned, save him! save him!' cried Anna Vassilyevna to Insarov, who was
standing with his legs apart on the bank, breathing heavily.
'He will swim out,' he answered with contemptuous and unsympathetic
indifference. 'Let us go on,' he added, taking Anna Vassilyevna by the
arm. 'Come, Uvar Ivanovitch, Elena Nikolaevna.'
'A--a--o--o' was heard at that instant, the plaint of the hapless German
who had managed to get hold of the rushes on the bank.
They all followed Insarov, and had to pass close by the party. But,
deprived of their leader, the rowdies were subdued and did not utter
a word; but one, the boldest of them, muttered, shaking his head
menacingly: 'All right... we shall see though... after that'; but one of
the others even took his hat off. Insarov struck them as formidable,
and rightly so; something evil, something dangerous could be seen in his
face. The Germans hastened to pull out their comrade, who, directly he
had his feet on dry ground, broke into tearful abuse and shouted after
the 'Russian scoundrels,' that he would make a complaint, that he would
go to Count Von Kizerits himself, and so on.
But the 'Russian scoundrels' paid no attention to his vociferations, and
hurried on as fast as they could to the castle. They were all silent, as
they walked through the garden, though Anna Vassilyevna sighed a little.
But when they reached the carriages and stood still, they broke into
an irrepressible, irresistible fit of Homeric laughter. First Shubin
exploded, shrieking as if he were mad, Bersenyev followed with his
gurgling guffaw, then Zoya fell into thin tinkling little trills, Anna
Vassilyevna too suddenly broke down, Elena could not help smiling, and
even Insarov at last could not resist it. But the loudest, longest, most
persistent laugh was Uvar Ivanovitch's; he laughed till his sides ached,
till he choked and panted. He would calm down a little, then would
murmur through his tears: 'I--thought--what's that splash--and
there--he--went plop.' And with the last word, forced out with
convulsive effort, his whole frame was shaking with another burst of
laughter. Zoya made him worse. 'I saw his legs,' she said, 'kicking in
the air.' 'Yes, yes,' gasped Uvar Ivanovitch, 'his legs, his legs--and
then splash!--there he plopped in!'
'And how did Mr. Insarov manage it? why the German was three times his
size?' said Zoya.
'I'll tell you,' answered Uvar Ivanovitch, rubbing his eyes, 'I saw;
with one arm about his waist, he tripped him up, and he went plop! I
heard--a splash--there he went.'
Long after the carriages had started, long after the castle of
Tsaritsino was out of sight, Uvar Ivanovitch was still unable to regain
his composure. Shubin, who was again with him in the carriage, began to
cry shame on him at last.
Insarov felt ashamed. He sat in the coach facing Elena (Bersenyev had
taken his seat on the box), and he said nothing; she too was silent. He
thought that she was condemning his action; but she did not condemn him.
She had been scared at the first minute; then the expression of his face
had impressed her; afterwards she pondered on it all. It was not quite
clear to her what the nature of her reflections was. The emotion she had
felt during the day had passed away; that she realised; but its
place had been taken by another feeling which she did not yet fully
understand. The _partie de plaisir_ had been prolonged too late;
insensibly evening passed into night. The carriage rolled swiftly along,
now beside ripening cornfields, where the air was heavy and fragrant
with the smell of wheat; now beside wide meadows, from which a sudden
wave of freshness blew lightly in the face. The sky seemed to lie
like smoke over the horizon. At last the moon rose, dark and red. Anna
Vassilyevna was dozing; Zoya had poked her head out of window and was
staring at the road. It occurred to Elena at last that she had not
spoken to Insarov for more than an hour. She turned to him with a
trifling question; he at once answered her, delighted. Dim sounds began
stirring indistinctly in the air, as though thousands of voices were
talking in the distance; Moscow was coming to meet them. Lights twinkled
afar off; they grew more and more frequent; at last there was the
grating of the cobbles under their wheels. Anna Vassilyevna awoke, every
one in the carriage began talking, though no one could hear what was
said; everything was drowned in the rattle of the cobbles under the two
carriages, and the hoofs of the eight horses. Long and wearisome seemed
the journey from Moscow to Kuntsovo; all the party were asleep or
silent, leaning with their heads pressed into their respective
corners; Elena did not close her eyes; she kept them fixed on Insarov's
dimly-outlined figure. A mood of sadness had come upon Shubin; the
breeze was blowing into his eyes and irritating him; he retired into the
collar of his cloak and was on the point of tears. Uvar Ivanovitch was
snoring blissfully, rocking from side to side. The carriages came to a
standstill at last. Two men-servants lifted Anna Vassilyevna out of
the carriage; she was all to pieces, and at parting from her fellow
travellers, announced that she was 'nearly dead'; they began thanking
her, but she only repeated, 'nearly dead.' Elena for the first time
pressed Insarov's hand at parting, and for a long while she sat at her
window before undressing; Shubin seized an opportunity to whisper to
Bersenyev:
'There, isn't he a hero; he can pitch drunken Germans into the river!'
'While you didn't even do that,' retorted Bersenyev, and he started
homewards with Insarov.
The dawn was already showing in the sky when the two friends reached
their lodging. The sun had not yet risen, but already the chill of
daybreak was in the air, a grey dew covered the grass, and the first
larks were trilling high, high up in the shadowy infinity of air, whence
like a solitary eye looked out the great, last star. _