‘Won’t father have pity on me?’
The dwarf shook her head, on which she wore a little mob-cap.
‘Won’t grandfather or auntie intercede for me?’
‘No, miss, while you were ill the negro succeeded in bewitching every one. The master raves about him, the prince can talk of no one else, and Tatiana Afanassyevna keeps saying: “’Tis a pity he’s a negro, as a better suitor we could not wish for”.’
‘O God, O God!’ moaned poor Natasha.
‘Do not grieve, my pretty one,’ said the dwarf, kissing her listless hand. ‘Even if you are to marry the negro, you will still have your liberty. Things aren’t what they used to be in the old days: husbands no longer keep their wives under lock and key. They say the negro is rich: your house will have everything you can think of, and you will be living in clover.’
‘Poor Valerianl’ said Natasha, but so softly that the dwarf could only guess at the words which she did not hear.
‘That’s just it, miss,’ she said, mysteriously lowering her voice. ‘If you had thought less about that boy you would not have talked about him when you were delirious, and your father would not have been angered.’
‘What?’ cried Natasha in alarm. ‘I talked about Valerian? Father heard? He was angry?’
‘That’s just the trouble,’ replied the dwarf. ‘If you ask your father now not to marry you to the negro he will think it is because of Valerian. There is no help for it: submit to your father’s will, and what is to be will be.’
Natasha made no answer. The thought that her heart’s secret was known to her father disturbed her deeply. One hope alone remained: to die before the odious marriage. The idea comforted her. Weak and sad at heart, she resigned herself to her fate.
7
IN Gavril Afanassyevich’s house, to the right of the entrance-hall, was a small room with one tiny window. A plain bed covered with a blanket of baize stood in this room; in front of the bed there was a deal table on which a tallow candle was burning and some music lay open. An old blue uniform and an equally old three-cornered hat hung on the wall below a rough woodcut of Charles XII On horseback, secured with three nails. Sounds of a flute came from this humble habitation. Its solitary occupant, the captive dancing-master, in a night-cap and a cotton dressing-gown, sought to relieve the tedium of a winter evening by playing some old Swedish marches. Having devoted two whole hours to this exercise, the Swede took his flute to pieces, placed it in its case and began to undress….
Dubrovsky
1
SEVERAL years ago Kiril Petrovich Troyekurov, a Russian gentleman of the old school, was living on one of his country estates. His wealth, distinguished birth and connexions gave him great influence in the province where his property was situated. His neighbours were ready to humour his smallest whim; the officials of the province trembled at his name. Kiril Petrovich accepted all these marks of servility as his rightful due. His house was always full of guests prepared to provide amusement for his lordship’s leisure and join in his noisy and sometimes boisterous mirth. No one dared refuse his invitations or fail on certain special days to put in an appearance at Pokrovskoe to pay their respects to him. In his domestic habits Kiril Petrovich manifested all the vices of a man of no education. Completely spoiled by circumstances, he allowed full rein to every impulse of his passionate temperament, and to every caprice of his somewhat limited intellect. He was immensely hospitable, and in spite of a wonderful constitution two or three times a week he suffered from having eaten too much, and every evening was slightly the worse for liquor.
Very few of the serf-girls of his household escaped the amorous attentions of this elderly man of fifty. Moreover, in one of the wings of the house lived sixteen maid-servants engaged in fine sewing, as befitted their sex. The windows of this wing were protected by wooden bars, the doors were kept locked, and Kiril Petrovich held the keys. At appointed hours the young recluses went out for a walk in the garden under the surveillance of two old women. Every now and then Kiril Petrovich would marry some of them off, and new-comers took their place.
1 comment