The possessed or, The devils
could have expected. In a word, it was a day of wonderful coincidences.
To begin with, when Stepan Trofimovitch and I arrived at Varvara
Petrovna's at twelve o'clock punctually, the time she had fixed, we did
not find her at home; she had not yet come back from church. My poor
friend was so disposed, or, more accurately speaking, so indisposed that
this circumstance crushed him at once; he sank almost helpless into
an arm-chair in the drawing-room. I suggested a glass of water; but in
spite of his pallor and the trembling of his hands, he refused it
with dignity. His get-up for the occasion was, by the way, extremely
recherché: a shirt of batiste and embroidered, almost fit for a ball, a
white tie, a new hat in his hand, new straw-coloured gloves, and even a
suspicion of scent. We had hardly sat down when Shatov was shown in by
the butler, obviously also by official invitation. Stepan Trofimovitch
was rising to shake hands with him, but Shatov, after looking
attentively at us both, turned away into a corner, and sat down there
without even nodding to us. Stepan Trofimovitch looked at me in dismay
again.
We sat like this for some minutes longer in complete silence. Stepan
Trofimovitch suddenly began whispering something to me very quickly,
but I could not catch it; and indeed, he was so agitated himself that he
broke off without finishing. The butler came in once more, ostensibly to
set something straight on the table, more probably to take a look at us.
Shatov suddenly addressed him with a loud question:
"Alexey Yegorytch, do you know whether Darya Pavlovna has gone with
her?"
"Varvara Petrovna was pleased to drive to the cathedral alone, and Darya
Pavlovna was pleased to remain in her room upstairs, being indisposed,"
Alexey Yegorytch announced formally and reprovingly.
My poor friend again stole a hurried and agitated glance at me, so
that at last I turned away from him. Suddenly a carriage rumbled at the
entrance, and some commotion at a distance in the house made us aware
of the lady's return. We all leapt up from our easy chairs, but again
a surprise awaited us; we heard the noise of many footsteps, so our
hostess must have returned not alone, and this certainly was rather
strange, since she had fixed that time herself. Finally, we heard some
one come in with strange rapidity as though running, in a way that
Varvara Petrovna could not have come in. And, all at once she almost
flew into the room, panting and extremely agitated. After her a little
later and much more quickly Lizaveta Nikolaevna came in, and with her,
hand in hand, Marya Timofyevna Lebyadkin! If I had seen this in my
dreams, even then I should not have believed it.
To explain their utterly unexpected appearance, I must go back an
hour and describe more in detail an extraordinary adventure which had
befallen Varvara Petrovna in church.
In the first place almost the whole town, that is, of course, all of the
upper stratum of society, were assembled in the cathedral. It was known
that the governor's wife was to make her appearance there for the
first time since her arrival amongst us. I must mention that there were
already rumours that she was a free-thinker, and a follower of "the new
principles." All the ladies were also aware that she would be dressed
with magnificence and extraordinary elegance. And so the costumes of our
ladies were elaborate and gorgeous for the occasion.
Only Varvara Petrovna was modestly dressed in black as she always was,
and had been for the last four years. She had taken her usual place in
church in the first row on the left, and a footman in livery had put
down a velvet cushion for her to kneel on; everything in fact, had been
as usual. But it was noticed, too, that all through the service she
prayed with extreme fervour. It was even asserted afterwards when people
recalled it, that she had had tears in her eyes. The service was over at
last, and our chief priest, Father Pavel, came out to deliver a solemn
sermon. We liked his sermons and thought very highly of them. We used
even to try to persuade him to print them, but he never could make up
his mind to. On this occasion the sermon was a particularly long one.
And behold, during the sermon a lady drove up to the church in an old
fashioned hired droshky, that is, one in which the lady could only sit
sideways, holding on to the driver's sash, shaking at every jolt like a
blade of grass in the breeze. Such droshkys are still to be seen in our
town. Stopping at the corner of the cathedral--for there were a number
of carriages, and mounted police too, at the gates--the lady sprang out
of the droshky and handed the driver four kopecks in silver.
"Isn't it enough, Vanya?" she cried, seeing his grimace. "It's all I've
got," she added plaintively.
"Well, there, bless you. I took you without fixing the price," said the
driver with a hopeless gesture, and looking at her he added as though
reflecting:
"And it would be a sin to take advantage of you too."
Then, thrusting his leather purse into his bosom, he touched up his
horse and drove off, followed by the jeers of the drivers standing near.
Jeers, and wonder too, followed the lady as she made her way to the
cathedral gates, between the carriages and the footmen waiting for
their masters to come out. And indeed, there certainly was something
extraordinary and surprising to every one in such a person's suddenly
appearing in the street among people. She was painfully thin and she
limped, she was heavily powdered and rouged; her long neck was quite
bare, she had neither kerchief nor pelisse; she had nothing on but an
old dark dress in spite of the cold and windy, though bright, September
day. She was bareheaded, and her hair was twisted up into a tiny knot,
and on the right side of it was stuck an artificial rose, such as are
used to dedicate cherubs sold in Palm week. I had noticed just such a
one with a wreath of paper roses in a corner under the ikons when I was
at Marya Timofyevna's the day before. To put a finishing-touch to it,
though the lady walked with modestly downcast eyes there was a sly and
merry smile on her face. If she had lingered a moment longer, she would
perhaps not have been allowed to enter the cathedral. But she succeeded
in slipping by, and entering the building, gradually pressed forward.
Though it was half-way through the sermon, and the dense crowd that
filled the cathedral was listening to it with absorbed and silent
attention, yet several pairs of eyes glanced with curiosity and
amazement at the new-comer. She sank on to the floor, bowed her painted
face down to it, lay there a long time, unmistakably weeping; but
raising her head again and getting up from her knees, she soon
recovered, and was diverted. Gaily and with evident and intense
enjoyment she let her eyes rove over the faces, and over the walls
of the cathedral. She looked with particular curiosity at some of the
ladies, even standing on tip-toe to look at them, and even laughed once
or twice, giggling strangely. But the sermon was over, and they brought
out the cross. The governor's wife was the first to go up to the cross,
but she stopped short two steps from it, evidently wishing to make way
for Varvara Petrovna, who, on her side, moved towards it quite directly
as though she noticed no one in front of her. There was an obvious and,
in its way, clever malice implied in this extraordinary act of deference
on the part of the governor's wife; every one felt this; Varvara
Petrovna must have felt it too; but she went on as before, apparently
noticing no one, and with the same unfaltering air of dignity kissed the
cross, and at once turned to leave the cathedral. A footman in livery
cleared the way for her, though every one stepped back spontaneously to
let her pass. But just as she was going out, in the porch the closely
packed mass of people blocked the way for a moment. Varvara Petrovna
stood still, and suddenly a strange, extraordinary creature, the woman
with the paper rose on her head, squeezed through the people, and
fell on her knees before her. Varvara Petrovna, who was not easily
disconcerted, especially in public, looked at her sternly and with
dignity.
I hasten to observe here, as briefly as possible, that though Varvara
Petrovna had become, it was said, excessively careful and even stingy,
yet sometimes she was not sparing of money, especially for benevolent
objects. She was a member of a charitable society in the capital. In
the last famine year she had sent five hundred roubles to the chief
committee for the relief of the sufferers, and people talked of it in
the town. Moreover, just before the appointment of the new governor, she
had been on the very point of founding a local committee of ladies to
assist the poorest mothers in the town and in the province. She
was severely censured among us for ambition; but Varvara Petrovna's
well-known strenuousness and, at the same time, her persistence nearly
triumphed over all obstacles. The society was almost formed, and the
original idea embraced a wider and wider scope in the enthusiastic mind
of the foundress. She was already dreaming of founding a similar society
in Moscow, and the gradual expansion of its influence over all the
provinces of Russia. And now, with the sudden change of governor,
everything was at a standstill; and the new governor's wife had, it was
said, already uttered in society some biting, and, what was worse, apt
and sensible remarks about the impracticability of the fundamental idea
of such a committee, which was, with additions of course, repeated to
Varvara Petrovna. God alone knows the secrets of men's hearts; but I
imagine that Varvara Petrovna stood still now at the very cathedral
gates positively with a certain pleasure, knowing that the governor's
wife and, after her, all the congregation, would have to pass by
immediately, and "let her see for herself how little I care what
she thinks, and what pointed things she says about the vanity of my
benevolence. So much for all of you!"
"What is it my dear? What are you asking?" said Varvara Petrovna,
looking more attentively at the kneeling woman before her, who gazed at
her with a fearfully panic-stricken, shame-faced, but almost reverent
expression, and suddenly broke into the same strange giggle.
"What does she want? Who is she?"
Varvara Petrovna bent an imperious and inquiring gaze on all around her.
Every one was silent.
"You are unhappy? You are in need of help?"
"I am in need.... I have come..." faltered the "unhappy" creature, in a
voice broken with emotion. "I have come only to kiss your hand...."
Again she giggled. With the childish look with which little children
caress someone, begging for a favour, she stretched forward to seize
Varvara Petrovna's hand, but, as though panic-stricken, drew her hands
back.
"Is that all you have come for?" said Varvara Petrovna, with a
compassionate smile; but at once she drew her mother-of-pearl purse out
of her pocket, took out a ten-rouble note and gave it to the unknown.
The latter took it. Varvara Petrovna was much interested and evidently
did not look upon her as an ordinary low-class beggar.
"I say, she gave her ten roubles!" someone said in the crowd.
"Let me kiss your hand," faltered the unknown, holding tight in the
fingers of her left hand the corner of the ten-rouble note, which
fluttered in the draught. Varvara Petrovna frowned slightly, and with
a serious, almost severe, face held out her hand. The cripple kissed it
with reverence. Her grateful eyes shone with positive ecstasy. At that
moment the governor's wife came up, and a whole crowd of ladies and high
officials flocked after her. The governor's wife was forced to stand
still for a moment in the crush; many people stopped.