The Queen of Spades, and other stories
some coarse linen, some dark blue stuff, and some brass buttons, and
out of these Nastia and she cut a chemise and a _sarafan._ All the
maid-servants were set down to sew, and by evening everything was
ready.
As she tried on her new costume before the glass, Lisa said to herself
that she had never looked so nice. Then she began to rehearse her
meeting with Alexis. First she gave him a low bow as she passed along,
then she continued to nod her head like a mandarin. Next she addressed
him in a peasant _patois,_ simpering and shyly hiding her face behind
her sleeve. Nastia gave the performance her full approval. But there
was one difficulty. She tried to cross the yard barefooted, but the
grass stalks pricked her tender feet and the gravel caused intolerable
pain. Nastia again came to the rescue.
She took the measure of Lisa's foot and hurried across the fields to
the herdsman Trophim, of whom she ordered a pair of bark shoes.
The next morning before daylight Lisa awoke. The whole household was
still asleep. Nastia was at the gate waiting for the herdsman; soon
the sound of his horn drew near, and the village herd straggled past
the Manor gates. After them came Trophim, who, as he passed, handed to
Nastia a little pair of speckled bark shoes, and received a ruble.
Lisa, who had quietly donned her peasant dress, whispered to Nastia
her last instructions about Miss Jackson; then she went through the
kitchen, out of the back door, into the open field, then she began to
run.
Dawn was breaking, and the rows of golden clouds stood like courtiers
waiting for their monarch. The clear sky, the fresh morning air, the
dew, the breeze and singing of the birds filled Lisa's heart with
child-like joy.
Fearing to meet with some acquaintance, she did nor walk but flew. As
she drew near the wood where lay the boundary of her father's property
she slackened her pace. It was here she was to meet Alexis. Her heart
beat violently, she knew not why. The terrors of our youthful escapades
are their chief charm.
Lisa stepped forward into the darkness of the wood; its hollow
echoes bade her welcome. Her buoyant spirits gradually gave place to
meditation. She thought--but who shall truly tell the thoughts of sweet
seventeen in a wood, alone, at six o'clock on a spring morning?
And as she walked in meditation under the shade of lofty trees,
suddenly a beautiful pointer began to bark at her. Lisa cried out with
fear, and at the same moment a voice exclaimed, "_Tout beau Shogar,
ici,_" and a young sportsman stepped from behind the bushes. "Don't be
afraid, my dear, he won't bite."
Lisa had already recovered from her fright, and instantly took
advantage of the situation.
"It's all very well, sir," she said, with assumed timidity and shyness,
_"I_ am afraid of him, he seems such a savage creature, and may fly at
me again."
Alexis, whom the reader has already recognised, looked steadily at the
young peasant. "I will escort you, if you are afraid; will you allow me
to walk by your side?"
"Who is to prevent you?" replied Lisa. "A freeman can do as he likes,
and the road is public!"
"Where do you come from?"
"From Prilutchina; I am the daughter of Yassili, the blacksmith, and I
am looking for mushrooms." She was carrying a basket suspended from her
shoulders by a cord.
"And you, _barin_; are you from Tugilovo?"
"Exactly, I am the young gentleman's valet" (he wished to equalize
their ranks). But Lisa looked at him and laughed.
"Ah! you are lying," she said. "I am not a fool. I see you are the
master himself."
"What makes you think so?"
"Everything."
"Still----?"
"How can one help it. You are not dressed like a servant. You speak
differently. You even call your dog in a foreign tongue."
Lisa charmed him more and more every moment. Accustomed to be
unceremonious with pretty country girls, he tried to kiss her, but
Lisa jumped aside, and suddenly assumed so distant and severe an air
that though it amused him he did not attempt any further familiarities.
"If you wish to remain friends," she said, with dignity, "do not forget
yourself."
"Who has taught you this wisdom?" asked Alexis, with a laugh. "Can
it be my little friend Nastia, your mistress's maid? So this is how
civilization spreads."
Lisa felt she had almost betrayed herself, and said, "Do you think I
have never been up to the Manor House? I have seen and heard more than
you think. Still, chattering here with you won't get me mushrooms. You
go that way, _barin_; I'll go the other, begging your pardon;" and Lisa
made as if to depart, but Alexis held her by the hand.
"What is your name, my dear?"
"Akulina," she said, struggling to get her fingers free. "Let me go,
_barin,_ it is time for me to be home."
"Well, my friend Akulina, I shall certainly call on your father,
Yassili, the blacksmith."
"For the Lord's sake don't do that. If they knew at home I had been
talking here alone with the young _barin,_ I should catch it. My father
would beat me within an inch of my life."
"Well, I must see you again."
"I will come again some other day for mushrooms."
"When?"
"To-morrow, if you like."
"My dear Akulina, I would kiss you if I dared. To-morrow, then, at the
same time; that is a bargain."
"All right."
"You will not play me false?"
"No."
"Swear it."
"By the Holy Friday, then, I will come."
The young couple parted. Lisa ran out of the wood across the fields,
stole into the garden, and rushed headlong into the farmyard, where
Nastia was waiting for her. Then she changed her dress, answering at
random the impatient questions of her _confidante_, and went into the
dining-room to find the cloth laid and breakfast ready. Miss Jackson,
freshly powdered and Jaced, until she looked like a wine glass, was
cutting thin slices of bread and butter. Her father complimented Lisa
on her early walk.
"There is no healthier habit," he remarked, "than to rise at daybreak."
He quoted from the English papers several cases of longevity, adding
that all centenarians had abstained from spirits, and made it a
practice to rise at daybreak winter and summer. Lisa did not prove
an attentive listener. She was repeating in her mind the details of
her morning's interview, and as she recalled Akulina's conversation
with the young sportsman her conscience smote her. In vain she assured
herself that the bounds of decorum had not been passed. This joke, she
argued, could have no evil consequences, but conscience would not be
quieted. What most disturbed her was her promise to repeat the meeting.
She half decided not to keep her word, but then Alexis, tired of
waiting, might go to seek the blacksmiths daughter in the village and
find the real Akulina--a stout, pockmarked girl--and so discover the
hoax. Alarmed at this she determined to re-enact the part of Akulina.
Alexis was enchanted. All day he thought about his new acquaintance
and at night he dreamt of her. It was scarcely dawn when he was up and
dressed. Without waiting even to load his gun he set out followed by
the faithful Shogar, and ran to the meeting place. Half an hour passed
in undeniable delay. At last he caught a glimpse of a blue _sarafan_
among the bushes and rushed to meet dear Akulina. She smiled to see his
eagerness; but he saw traces of anxiety and melancholy on her face. He
asked her the cause, and she at last confessed. She had been flighty
and was very sorry for it. She had meant not to keep her promise, and
this meeting at any rate must be the last. She begged him not to seek
to continue an acquaintance which could have no good end. All this,
of course, was said in peasant dialect; but the thought and feeling
struck Alexis as unusual in a peasant. In eloquent words he urged
her to abandon this cruel resolution. She should have no reason for
repentance; he would obey her in everything, if only she would not rob
him of his one happiness and let him see her alone three times or even
only twice a week. He spoke with passion, and at the moment he was
really in love. Lisa listened to him in silence.
"Promise," she said, "to seek no other meetings with me but those which
I myself appoint."
He was about to swear by the Holy Friday when she stopped him with a
smile.
"I do not want you to swear. Your word is enough."
Then together they wandered talking in the wood, till Lisa said:
"It is time."
They parted; and Alexis was left to wonder how in two meetings a simple
rustic had gained such influence over him. There was a freshness and
novelty about it all that charmed him, and though the conditions
she imposed were irksome, the thought of breaking his promise never
even entered his mind. After all, in spite of his fatal ring and the
mysterious correspondence, Alexis was a kind and affectionate youth,
with a pure heart still capable of innocent enjoyment. Did I consult
only my own wishes I should dwell at length on the meetings of these
young people, their growing love, their mutual trust, and all they did
and all they said. But my pleasure I know would not be shared by the
majority of my readers; so for their sake I will omit them. I will
only say that in a brief two months Alexis was already madly in love,
and Lisa, though more reticent than he was, not indifferent. Happy
in the present they took little thought for the future. Visions of
indissoluble ties flitted not seldom through the minds of both. But
neither mentioned them. For Alexis, however strong his attachment to
Akulina, could not forget the social distance that was between them,
while Lisa, knowing the enmity between their fathers, dared not count
on their becoming reconciled. Besides, her vanity was stimulated by the
vague romantic hope of at last seeing the lord of Tugilovo at the feet
of the daughter of a village blacksmith. Suddenly something happened
which came near to change the course of their true love. One of those
cold bright mornings so common in our Russian autumns Ivan Berestoff
came a-riding. For all emergencies he brought with him six pointers
and a dozen beaters. That same morning Grigori Muromsky, tempted by
the fine weather, saddled his English mare and came trotting through
his agricultural estates. Nearing the wood he came upon his neighbour
proudly seated in the saddle wearing his fur-lined overcoat. Ivan
Berestoff was waiting for the hare which the beaters were driving with
discordant noises out of the brushwood. If Muromsky could have foreseen
this meeting he would have avoided it. But finding himself suddenly
within pistol-shot there was no escape. Like a cultivated European
gentleman, Muromsky rode up to and addressed his enemy politely.
Berestoff answered with the grace of a chained bear dancing to the
order of his keeper. At this moment out shot the hare and scudded
across the field. Berestoff and his groom shouted to loose the dogs,
and started after them full speed. Muromsky's mare took fright and
bolted. Her rider, who often boasted of his horsemanship, gave her
her head and chuckled inwardly over this opportunity of escaping a
disagreeable companion. But the mare coming at a gallop to an unseen
ditch swerved. Muromsky lost his seat, fell rather heavily on the
frozen ground, and lay there cursing the animal, which, sobered by the
loss of her master, stopped at once. Berestoff galloped to the rescue,
asking if Muromsky was hurt. Meanwhile the groom led up the culprit by
the bridle. Berestoff helped Muromsky into the saddle and then invited
him to his house. Peeling himself under an obligation Muromsky could
not refuse, and so Berestoff returned in glory, having killed the hare
and bringing home with him his adversary wounded and almost a prisoner
of war.
At breakfast the neighbours fell into rather friendly conversation;