'Then is it really impossible for you to live at your country place?'

He gave a sigh.

'Quite impossible. It's, so to say, not my own now.'

'Why, how so?'

'Well, a good fellow there--a neighbour--is in possession... a bill of exchange.'

Poor Piotr Petrovitch pa.s.sed his hand over his face, thought a minute, and shook his head.

'Well?'... I must own, though,' he added after a brief silence, 'I can't blame anybody; it's my own fault. I was fond of cutting a dash, I am fond of cutting a dash, d.a.m.n my soul!'

'You had a jolly life in the country?' I asked him.

'I had, sir,' he responded emphatically, looking me straight in the face, 'twelve harriers--harriers, I can tell you, such as you don't very often see.' (The last words he uttered in a drawl with great significance.) 'A grey hare they'd double upon in no time. After the red fox--they were devils, regular serpents. And I could boast of my greyhounds too. It's all a thing of the past now, I've no reason to lie.

I used to go out shooting too. I had a dog called the Countess, a wonderful setter, with a first-rate scent--she took everything.

Sometimes I'd go to a marsh and call "Seek." If she refused, you might go with a dozen dogs, and you'd find nothing. But when she was after anything, it was a sight to see her. And in the house so well-bred. If you gave her bread with your left hand and said, "A Jew's tasted it,"

she wouldn't touch it; but give it with your right and say, "The young lady's had some," and she'd take it and eat it at once. I had a pup of hers--capital pup he was, and I meant to bring him with me to Moscow, but a friend asked me for him, together with a gun; he said, "In Moscow you'll have other things to think of." I gave him the pup and the gun; and so, you know, it stayed there.'

'But you might go shooting in Moscow.'

'No, what would be the use? I didn't know when to pull myself up, so now I must grin and bear it.

But there, kindly tell me rather about the living in Moscow--is it dear?'

'No, not very.'

'Not very.... And tell me, please, are there any gypsies in Moscow?'

'What sort of gypsies?'

'Why, such as hang about fairs?'

'Yes, there are in Moscow....'

'Well, that's good news. I like gypsies, d.a.m.n my soul! I like 'em....'

And there was a gleam of reckless merriment in Piotr Petrovitch's eyes.

But suddenly he turned round on the bench, then seemed to ponder, dropped his eyes, and held out his empty gla.s.s to me.

'Give me some of your rum,' he said.'

'But the tea's all finished.'

'Never mind, as it is, without tea... Ah--h!' Karataev laid his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on the table. I looked at him without speaking, and although I was expecting the sentimental exclamations, possibly even the tears of which the inebriate are so lavish, yet when he raised his head, I was, I must own, impressed by the profoundly mournful expression of his face.

'What's wrong with you?'

'Nothing.... I was thinking of old times. An anecdote that... I would tell it you, but I am ashamed to trouble you....'

'What nonsense!'

'Yes,' he went on with a sigh:--'there are cases... like mine, for instance. Well, if you like, I will tell you. Though really I don't know....'

'Do tell me, dear Piotr Petrovitch.'

'Very well, though it's a... Well, do you see,' he began; 'but, upon my word, I don't know.'

'Come, that's enough, dear Piotr Petrovitch.'

'All right. This, then, was what befel me, so to say. I used to live in the country... All of a sudden, I took a fancy to a girl. Ah, what a girl she was!... handsome, clever, and so good and sweet! Her name was Matrona. But she wasn't a lady--that is, you understand, she was a serf, simply a serf-girl. And not my girl; she belonged to someone else--that was the trouble. Well, so I loved her--it's really an incident that one can hardly... well, and she loved me, too. And so Matrona began begging me to buy her off from her mistress; and, indeed, the thought had crossed my mind too.... But her mistress was a rich, dreadful old body; she lived about twelve miles from me. Well, so one fine day, as the saying is, I ordered my team of three horses to be harnessed abreast to the droshky--in the centre I'd a first-rate goer, an extraordinary Asiatic horse, for that reason called Lampurdos--I dressed myself in my best, and went off to Matrona's mistress. I arrived; it was a big house with wings and a garden.... Matrona was waiting for me at the bend of the road; she tried to say a word to me, but she could only kiss her hand and turn away. Well, so I went into the hall and asked if the mistress were at home?... And a tall footman says to me: "What name shall I say?" I answered, "Say, brother, Squire Karataev has called on a matter of business." The footman walked away; I waited by myself and thought, "I wonder how it'll be? I daresay the old beast'll screw out a fearful price, for all she's so rich. Five hundred roubles she'll ask, I shouldn't be surprised." Well, at last the footman returned, saying, "If you please, walk up." I followed him into the drawing-room. A little yellowish old woman sat in an armchair blinking. "What do you want?" To begin with, you know, I thought it necessary to say how glad I was to make her acquaintance.... "You are making a mistake; I am not the mistress here; I'm a relation of hers.... What do you want?" I remarked upon that, "I had to speak to the mistress herself." "Marya Ilyinishna is not receiving to-day; she is unwell.... What do you want?" There's nothing for it, I thought to myself; so I explained my position to her.

The old lady heard me out. "Matrona! what Matrona?"

'"Matrona Fedorovna, Kulik's daughter."

'"Fedor Kulik's daughter.... But how did you come to know her?" "By chance." "And is she aware of your intention?" "Yes." The old lady was silent for a minute. Then, "Ah, I'll let her know it, the worthless hussy!" she said. I was astounded, I must confess. "What ever for? upon my word!... I'm ready to pay a good sum, if you will be so good as to name it."'

'The old hag positively hissed at me. "A surprising idea you've concocted there; as though we needed your money!... I'll teach her, I'll show her!... I'll beat the folly out of her!" The old lady choked with spitefulness. "Wasn't she well off with us, pray?... Ah, she's a little devil! G.o.d forgive my transgressions!" I fired up, I'll confess. "What are you threatening the poor girl for? How is she to blame?" The old lady crossed herself. "Ah, Lord have mercy on me, do you suppose I'd..."

"But she's not yours, you know!" "Well, Marya Ilyinishna knows best about that; it's not your business, my good sir; but I'll show that chit of a Matrona whose serf she is." I'll confess, I almost fell on the d.a.m.ned old woman, but I thought of Matrona, and my hands dropped. I was more frightened than I can tell you; I began entreating the old lady.

"Take what you like," I said. "But what use is she to you?" "I like her, good ma'am; put yourself in my position.... Allow me to kiss your little hand." And I positively kissed the wretch's hand! "Well," mumbled the old witch, "I'll tell Marya Ilyinishna--it's for her to decide; you come back in a couple of days." I went home in great uneasiness. I began to suspect that I'd managed the thing badly; that I'd been wrong in letting her notice my state of mind, but I thought of that too late. Two days after, I went to see the mistress. I was shown into a boudoir.

There were heaps of flowers and splendid furniture; the lady herself was sitting in a wonderful easy-chair, with her head lolling back on a cushion; and the same relation was sitting there too, and some young lady, with white eyebrows and a mouth all awry, in a green gown--a companion, most likely. The old lady said through her nose, "Please be seated." I sat down. She began questioning me as to how old I was, and where I'd been in the service, and what I meant to do, and all that very condescendingly and solemnly. I answered minutely. The old lady took a handkerchief off the table, flourished it, fanning herself.... "Katerina Karpovna informed me," says she, "of your scheme; she informed me of it; but I make it my rule," says she, "not to allow my people to leave my service. It is improper, and quite unsuitable in a well-ordered house; it is not good order. I have already given my orders," says she. "There will be no need for you to trouble yourself further," says she. "Oh, no trouble, really.... But can it be, Matrona Fedorovna is so necessary to you?" "No," says she, "she is not necessary." "Then why won't you part with her to me?" "Because I don't choose to; I don't choose--and that's all about it. I've already," says she, "given my orders: she is being sent to a village in the steppes." I was thunderstruck. The old lady said a couple of words in French to the young lady in green; she went out. "I am," says she, "a woman of strict principles, and my health is delicate; I can't stand being worried. You are still young, and I'm an old woman, and ent.i.tled to give you advice. Wouldn't it be better for you to settle down, get married; to look out a good match; wealthy brides are few, but a poor girl, of the highest moral character, could be found." I stared, do you know, at the old lady, and didn't understand what she was driving at; I could hear she was talking about marriage, but the village in the steppes was ringing in my ears all the while. Get married!... what the devil!...'

Here he suddenly stopped in his story and looked at me.

'You're not married, I suppose?'

'No.'

'There, of course, I could see it. I couldn't stand it. "But, upon my word, ma'am, what on earth are you talking about? How does marriage come in? I simply want to know from you whether you will part with your serf-girl Matrona or not?" The old lady began sighing and groaning. "Ah, he's worrying me! ah, send him away! ah!" The relation flew to her, and began scolding me, while the lady kept on moaning: "What have I done to deserve it?... I suppose I'm not mistress in my own house? Ah! ah!" I s.n.a.t.c.hed my hat, and ran out of the house like a madman.

'Perhaps,' he continued, 'you will blame me for being so warmly attached to a girl of low position; I don't mean to justify myself exactly, either... but so it came to pa.s.s!... Would you believe it, I had no rest by day or by night.... I was in torment! Besides, I thought, "I have ruined the poor girl!" At times I thought that she was herding geese in a smock, and being ill-treated by her mistress's orders, and the bailiff, a peasant in tarred boots, reviling her with foul abuse. I positively fell into a cold sweat. Well, I could not stand it. I found out what village she had been sent to, mounted my horse, and set off. I only got there the evening of the next day. Evidently they hadn't expected such a proceeding on my part, and had given no order in regard to me. I went straight to the bailiff as though I were a neighbour; I go into the yard and look around; there was Matrona sitting on the steps leaning on her elbow. She was on the point of crying out, but I held up my finger and pointed outside, towards the open country. I went into the hut; I chatted away a bit to the bailiff, told him ten thousand lies, seized the right moment, and went out to Matrona. She, poor girl, fairly hung round my neck. She was pale and thin, my poor darling! I kept saying to her, do you know: "There, it's all right, Matrona; it's all right, don't cry," and my own tears simply flowed and flowed.... Well, at last though, I was ashamed, I said to her: "Matrona, tears are no help in trouble, but we must act, as they say, resolutely; you must run away with me; that's how we must act." Matrona fairly swooned away....

"How can it be! I shall be ruined; they will be the death of me altogether." "You silly! who will find you?" "They will find me; they will be sure to find me. Thank you, Piotr Petrovitch--I shall never forget your kindness; but now you must leave me; such is my fate, it seems." "Ah, Matrona, Matrona, I thought you were a girl of character!"

And, indeed, she had a great deal of character.... She had a heart, a heart of gold! "Why should you be left here? It makes no difference; things can't be worse. Come, tell me--you've felt the bailiff's fists, eh?" Matrona fairly crimsoned, and her lips trembled. "But there'll be no living for my family on my account." "Why, your family now--will they send them for soldiers?" "Yes; they'll send my brother for a soldier."

"And your father?" "Oh, they won't send father; he's the only good tailor among us."

'"There, you see; and it won't kill your brother." Would you believe it, I'd hard work to persuade her; she even brought forward a notion that I might have to answer for it. "But that's not your affair," said I....

However, I did carry her off... not that time, but another; one night I came with a light cart, and carried her off.'

'You carried her off?'

'Yes... Well, so she lived in my house. It was a little house, and I'd few servants. My people, I will tell you frankly, respected me; they wouldn't have betrayed me for any reward. I began to be as happy as a prince. Matrona rested and recovered, and I grew devoted to her....

And what a girl she was! It seemed to come by nature! She could sing, and dance, and play the guitar!... I didn't show her to my neighbours; I was afraid they'd gossip! But there was one fellow, my bosom friend, Gornostaev, Panteley--you don't know him? He was simply crazy about her; he'd kiss her hand as though she were a lady; he would, really. And I must tell you, Gornostaev was not like me; he was a cultivated man, had read all Pushkin; sometimes, he'd talk to Matrona and me so that we p.r.i.c.ked up our ears to listen. He taught her to write; such a queer chap he was! And how I dressed her--better than the governor's wife, really; I had a pelisse made her of crimson velvet, edged with fur...

Ah! how that pelisse suited her! It was made by a Moscow madame in a new fashion, with a waist. And what a wonderful creature Matrona was!

Sometimes she'd fall to musing, and sit for hours together looking at the ground, without stirring a muscle; and I'd sit too, and look at her, and could never gaze enough, just as if I were seeing her for the first time.... Then she would smile, and my heart would give a jump as though someone were tickling me. Or else she'd suddenly fall to laughing, joking, dancing; she would embrace me so warmly, so pa.s.sionately, that my head went round. From morning to evening I thought of nothing but how I could please her. And would you believe it? I gave her presents simply to see how pleased she would be, the darling! all blushing with delight! How she would try on my present; how she would come back with her new possession on, and kiss me! Her father, Kulik, got wind of it, somehow; the old man came to see us, and how he wept.... In that way we lived for five months, and I should have been glad to live with her for ever, but for my cursed ill-luck!'

Piotr Petrovitch stopped.

'What was it happened?' I asked him sympathetically. He waved his hand.