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“T TNCLE,” I said, “at last I have got you.”

vJ “My dear boy, I was rushing to you myself. Here, I will just finish with Vidoplyasov, and then we can talk to our hearts’ content. I have a great deal to tell you.”

“What, Vidoplyasov now! Oh, get rid of him, uncle.”

“Only another five or ten minutes, Sergey, and I shall be entirely at your disposal. You see, it’s important.”

“Oh, no doubt, it is his foolishness,” I said, with vexation.

“What can I say to you, my dear? The man has certainly found a time to worry me with his nonsense! Yes, my good Grigory, couldn’t you find some other time for your complaints? Why, what can I do for you? You might have compassion even on me, my good boy. Why, I am, so to say, worn out by you all, devoured alive, body and soul! They are too much for me, Sergey!” And my uncle made a gesture of the profoundest misery with both hands.

“But what business can be so important that you can’t leave it? And, uncle, I do so want …”

“Oh, my dear boy, as it is they keep crying out that I take no trouble over my servants’ morals! Very likely he will complain of me tomorrow that I wouldn’t listen to him, and then ..,” and my uncle waved his hand in despair again.

“Well, then, make haste and finish with him! Perhaps I can help you; let us go up the steps. What is it? What does he want?” I said as we went into the room.

“Well, you see, my dear, he doesn’t like his own surname, and asks leave to change it. What do you think of that?”

“His surname! What do you mean? … Well, uncle, before I hear what he has to say himself, allow me to remark that it is only in your household such queer things can happen,” I said, flinging up my hands in amazement.

“Oh, my dear boy, I might fling up my hands like you, but that’s no good,” my uncle said with vexation. “Come, talk to him yourself, you have a try. He has been worrying me for two months past. …”

“It’s not a respectable surname,” Vidoplyasov observed.

“But why is it not respectable?” I asked him in surprise.

“Oh, because it suggests all sorts of abomination.”

“But why abomination? And how can you change it? Does anyone change his surname?”

“Well, really, sir, do other people have such surnames?”

“I agree that your surname is a somewhat strange one,” I went on, in complete bewilderment; “but there is no help for it now, you know. Your father had the same surname, I suj> pose, didn’t he?”

“That is precisely so that through my parent I have in that way had to suffer all my life, inasmuch as I am destined by my name to accept many jeers and to endure many sorrows,” answered Vidoplyasov.

“I bet, uncle, that Foma Fomitch has a hand in thisl” I cried with vexation.

“Oh, no, my boy; oh, no, you are mistaken. Foma certainly has befriended him. He has taken him to be his secretary, that’s the whole of his duty. Well, of course he has developed him, has filled him with noble sentiments, so that he is even in some ways cultivated… . You see, I will tell you all about it. …”

“That is true,” Vidoplyasov interrupted, “that Foma Fomitch is my true benefactor, and being a true benefactor to me, he has brought me to understand my insignificance, what a worm I am upon the earth, so that through his honour I have for the first time learned to comprehend my destiny.”

“There you see, Seryozha, there you see what it all means,” my uncle went on, growing flustered as he always did. “He lived at first in Moscow, almost from childhood, in the service of a teacher of calligraphy. You should see how he has learned to write from him, and he illuminates in colours and gold with cupids round, you know — in fact he is an artist, you know. Ilyusha has lessons from him; I pay him a rouble and a half a lesson. Foma himself fixed on a rouble and a half. He goes to three gentlemen’s houses in the neighbourhood; they pay him too. You see how he is dressed! What’s more, he writes poetry.”

“Poetry! That’s the last straw!”

“Poetry, my dear boy, poetry. And don’t imagine I am joking; real poetry, so to say, versifications, and so well composed, you know, on all sorts of subjects. He’ll describe any subject you like in a poem. It’s a real talent! On mamma’s nameday he concocted such a harangue that we listened with our mouths open; there was something from mythology in it, and the Muses flying about, so that indeed, you know, one could see the … what do you call it? … polish of form — in fact it was perfectly in rhyme. Foma corrected it. Well, I have nothing against that, and indeed I am quite pleased. Let him compose, as long as he doesn’t get into mischief. You see, Grigory, my boy, I speak to you like a father. Foma heard of it, looked at his poetry, encouraged him, and chose him as his reader and copyist — in fact he has educated him. It is true, as he says, that Foma has been a benefactor to him. Well, and so, you know, he has begun to have gentlemanly and romantic sentiments, and a feeling of independence — Foma explained it all to me, but I have really forgotten; only I must own that I wanted, apart from Foma, to give him his freedom. I feel somehow ashamed, you know! … but Foma opposes that and says that he finds him useful, that he likes him; and what’s more he says: ‘It’s a great honour to me, as his master, to have poets among my own servants; that that’s how some barons somewhere used to live, and that it is living en grand.’ Well, en grand so be it, then! I have begun to respect him, my boy — you understand… . Only goodness knows how he is behaving! The worst of it is that since he has taken to poetry he has become so stuck-up with the rest of the servants that he won’t speak to them. Don’t you take offence, Grigory, I am speaking to you like a father. Last winter, he promised to marry a serf girl here, Matryona, and a very nice girl she is, honest, hardworking and merry. But now it is ‘No, I won’t’. That’s all about it, he has given her up. Whether it is that he has grown conceited, or has planned first to make a name and then to seek a match in some other place.”

“More through the advice of Foma Fomitch,” observed Vidoplyasov, “seeing that his honour is my true well-wisher.”

“Oh, of course Foma Fomitch has a hand in everything,” I could not help exclaiming.

“Ough, my dear boy, that’s not it!” my uncle interrupted me hurriedly. “Only, you see, now he has no peace. She’s a bold, quarrelsome girl, she has set them all against him, they mimic him, bait him, even the serf boys look upon him as a buffoon… .”

“It’s chiefly owing to Matryona,” observed Vidoplyasov; “for Matryona’s a real fool, and being a real fool, she’s a woman of unbridled character. Through her I have come in this manner to endure such prolonged sufferings.”

“Ough, Grigory, my boy, I have talked to you already/’ my uncle went on, looking reproachfully at Vidoplyasov. “You see, Sergey, they have made up some horrid rhyme on his surname. He comes to me and complains, asks whether he cannot somehow change his surname, says that he has long been upset at its ugly sound. …”

“It’s an undignified name,” Vidoplyasov put in.

“Come, you be quiet, Grigory! Foma approved of it too … that is, he did not approve exactly, but, you see, this was his idea: that in case he were to publish his poems — and Foma has a project of his doing so — such a surname perhaps might be a drawback, mightn’t it?”

“So he wants to publish his verses, uncle?”

“Yes, my boy. It’s settled already — at my expense, and on the title-page will be put, ‘the serf of so-and-so’, and in the preface, the author’s thanks to Foma for his education. It’s dedicated to Foma. Foma is writing the prelace himself. Well, so just fancy if on the title-page there stands, ‘The Poems of Vidoplyasov’.”

“The Plaints of Vidoplyasov,” Vidoplyasov corrected.

“There, you see, plaints too! Well, Vidoplyasov is no use for a surname, it positively revolts the delicacy of one’s feelings, so Foma says. And all these critics, they say, are such fellows for picking holes and jeering; Brambeus, for instance… . They don’t stick at anything, you know! They will make a laughingstock of him for his surname alone; they’ll tickle your sides for you till you can do nothing but scratch them, won’t they? What I say is, put any surname you like on your poems — a pseudonym it’s called, isn’t it? I don’t remember; some word ending in nym. ‘But no,’ he says; ‘give the order to the whole servants’ hall to call me by a new name hereafter, for ever, so that I may have a genteel surname to suit my talent.’”

“I bet that you consented, uncle. …”

“I did, Seryozha, my boy, to avoid quarrelling with them; let them do as they like. You see, at that time there was a misunderstanding between Foma and me. So since then it has come to a new surname every week, and he keeps choosing such dainty ones as Oleandrov, Tulipov… . Only think, Grigory, at first you asked to be called ‘Vyerny’ (i.e. true, faithful)—’Grigory Vyerny’; afterwards you didn’t like the name yourself because some simpleton found a rhyme to it, ‘skverny’ (i.e. nasty, horrid). You complained, and the fellow was punished. You were a fortnight thinking of a new name — what a selection you had! — at last you made up your mind and came to be asked to be called ‘Ulanov’. Come, tell me, my boy, could anything be sillier than ‘Ulanov’? I agreed to that too, and gave instructions a second time about changing your surname to Ulanov. It was simply to get rid of him,” added my uncle, turning to me. “You spoilt all the walls, all the window-sills in the arbour scribbling ‘Ulanov’ in pencil, they have had to paint it since. You wasted a whole quire of good paper on signing your name ‘Ulanov’. At last that was a failure too, they found a rhyme for you: ‘Bolvanov’ (i.e. fool, blockhead). He didn’t want to be a blockhead, so the name must be changed again! What did you choose next? I have forgotten.”

“Tantsev,” answered Vidoplyasov. “If I am destined through my surname to be connected with dancing, it would be more dignified in the foreign form: ‘Tantsev’.”

“Oh, yes, ‘Tantsev’. I agreed to that too, Sergey. Only they found a rhyme to that which I don’t like to repeat. To-day he comes forward again, he has thought of something new. I bet he has got some new surname. Have you, Grigory? Confess!”

“I have truly been meaning for a long time to lay at your feet a new name, a genteel one.”

“What is it?”

“Essbouquetov.”

“Aren’t you ashamed, really ashamed, Grigory? A surname off a pomatum pot! And you call yourself a clever man. How many days he must have been thinking about it! Why, that’s what is written on scent-bottles.”

“Upon my word, uncle,” I said in a half-whisper, “why, he is simply a fool, a perfect fool.”

“It can’t be helped,” my uncle answered, also in a whisper. “They declare all round that he is clever, and that all this is due to the working of noble qualities. …”

“But for goodness’ sake, get rid of him!”

“Listen, Grigory! I have really no time, my boy,” my uncle began in something of an imploring tone, as though he were afraid even of Vidoplyasov. “Come, judge for yourself, how can I attend to your complaints now? You say that they have insulted you in some way again. Come, I give you my word that tomorrow I will go into it all; and now go, and God be with you… . Stay! What is Foma Fomitch doing?”

“He has lain down to rest. He told me that if I was asked about him, I was to say that he is at prayer, that he intends to be praying a long time tonight.”

“H’m! Well, you can go, you can go, my boy! You see, Seryozha, he is always with Foma, so that I am actually afraid of him. And that’s why the servants don’t like him, because he is always telling tales to Foma. Now he has gone away, and very likely tomorrow he will have spun some fine yarn about something! I’ve made it all right, my boy, and feel at peace now. … I was in haste to get to ycm. Now at last I am with you again,” he brought out with feeling, pressing my hand. “And you know I thought, my dear, that you were desperately angry with me, and would be sure to slip off. I sent them to keep an eye on you. But now, thank God I And this afternoon, Gavrila, what a to-do! and Falaley, and you, and one thing after another! Well, thank God! thank God! At last we can talk to our hearts’ content. I will open my heart to you. You mustn’t go away, Seryozha; you are all I have, you and Korovkin. …”

“But excuse me, uncle, how have you put things right, and what have I to expect here after what has happened? I must own my head’s going round.”

“And do you suppose that mine isn’t? It has been waltzing round for the last six months, my head has, my boy! But, thank God, everything is settled now. In the first place, they have forgiven me, completely forgiven me, on certain conditions of course; but now I am scarcely afraid of anything. Sashenka has been forgiven too. Ah, Sasha, Sasha, this afternoon … a passionate little heart! She went a little too far, but she has a heart of gold! I am proud of that girl, Seryozha. May the blessing of God be with her for ever. You too have been forgiven, and even — do yon know — you can do just what you like; you can go all over the house and into the garden, and even among the guests. In fact, you can do just as you like; but only on one condition, that you will say nothing tomorrow in the presence of mamma or Forna — that’s an absolute condition, that is literally not half a word, I have promised for you already — but will only listen to what your elders … that is, I mean, what others may say. They say that you are young. Don’t you be offended, Seryozha; you know you really are young… . That’s what Anna Nilovna says. …”

Of course I was very young, and showed it at once by boiling over with indignation at such insulting conditions.

“Listen, uncle,” I cried, almost breathless. “Tell me one thing and set my mind at rest: am I really in a madhouse or not?”

“There you are, my boy, criticising at once! You can’t be patient,” my uncle answered, in distress. “It’s not a madhouse at all, it’s nothing but over-hastiness on both sides. But you must consider, my boy, how you have behaved yourself. You remember what a sousing you gave him — a man, so to say, of venerable years?”

“Such men have no venerable years, uncle.”

“Oh, there, my boy, you go too far! That’s really freethinking. I have nothing against rational freethinking myself, my boy, but really that is beyond the mark; you really surprise me, Sergey.”

“Don’t be angry, uncle. I beg pardon, but I only beg your pardon. As for your Foma Fomitch …”

“There, now, it is your! Oh, Sergey, my boy, don’t judge him too harshly; he is a misanthropical man and nothing more, morbid! You musn’t judge him too severely. But he is a high-minded man; in fact, he is simply the most high-minded of men! Why, you saw it yourself just now; he was simply glorious. And as for the tricks he plays sometimes, it is no use noticing it. Why, it happens to everyone.”

“On the contrary, uncle, it happens to nobody.”

“Ough, he keeps on at the same thing! There is not much good nature in you, Seryozha; you don’t know how to forgive… .”

“Oh, all right, uncle, all right! Let us leave that. Tell me, have you seen Nastasya Yevgrafovna?”

“Oh, my dear, the whole bother has been about her. I tell you what, Seryozha, and first, what is most important: we’ve all decided to congratulate him tomorrow on his birthday — Foma, I mean — for tomorrow really is his birthday. Sashenka is a good girl, but she is mistaken; so we will go, the whole tribe of us, rather earlv, before mass. Ilyusha will recite some verses to him which will be like oil on his heart — in fact, it will flatter him. Oh, if only you, Seryozha, would congratulate him with us! He would perhaps forgive you altogether. How splendid it would be if you were reconciled! Forget your wrongs, Seryozha; you insulted him too, you know … he is a most worthy man… .”

“Uncle! uncle!” I cried, losing all patience, “I want to talk of what is important, and you. … Do you know, I s\y again, what is happening to Nastasya Yevgrafovna?”

“Why, what is the matter, my boy? Why are you shouting? All the trouble has arisen over her, though indeed it arose some time ago. I did not want to tell you about it before, so as not to frighten you, for they wanted simply to turn her out, and they insisted on my sending her away too. You can imagine my position… . Oh, well, thank (iod, all that is set right now. They thought, you see — I will confess it all to you — that I was in love with her myself, and wanted to marry her; that I was, in short, rushing to ruin, and that really would be rushing to my rum, they have explained it s> to me. And so, to save me, they meant to turn her out. It was mamma’s doing, and most of all Anna Nilovna’s. Foma si\s nothing so tar. But now I have convinced them all that they are wrong, and I must confess I have told them already that you are making Nastenka a formal proposal and that is what \ou have come for. Well, that has pacificd them to some extent, and now she will remain, though not altogether; that is, so far only on probation. Still, she will remain. And indeed \ou have risen in general esteem since I told her you were courting her. Anyway, mamma seems pacified. Only Anna Nilovna goes on grumbling! I really don’t know what to think of to satisfy her. And what is it she really wants, Anna Nilovna?”

“Uncle, you are greatly in eiror’ Why, do you know that Nastasya Yevgrafovna is going away tomorrow if she has not gone away already? Do you know that her father came to-day on purpose to take her away? That it’s all a settled thing, that she told me of it to-day herself, and in con< luMon asked me to give you her greetings? Do vou Lno.v that or not?”

My uncle stood blankly facing me with his mouth open. I fancied that he shuddered, and a moan broke from his lips.

Without loss of time I ha^tuud to describe to him all my conversation with Nastenka, my attempt to pay her my addresses, her resolute refusal, her anger with my uncle for having summoned me. I explained that she was hoping by her departure to save him fiom mairying Tatyana Ivanovna. In fact I concealed nothing from him; indeed I purposely exaggerated everything that was unpleasant in my story. I wanted to impress my uncle so as to wring some resolute step out of him, and I really did impress him. He cried out and clutched at his head.

“Where is she, don’t you know? Where is she now?” he brought out at last, turning pale with alarm. “And I, like a fool came here quite easy in my mind, I thought everything had been set right,” he added in despair.

“I don’t know where she is now; only when the uproar was beginning she went to you: she meant to proclaim all this aloud, before them all. Most likely they would not let her go in.”

“No, indeed! What might she not have done! Ah, the hotheaded proud little thing! And what is she going to? What is she going to? And you, you are a pretty fellow. Why, what did she refuse you for? It’s nonsense! You ought to have made her like you. Why doesn’t she like you? For God’s sake, answer, why are you standing there?”

“Have mercy on me, uncle! How can you ask such questions?”

“But you know this is impossible! You must marry her, you must. What did I bring you from Petersburg for? You must make her happy! Now they will drive her away, but when she is your wife, my own niece, they won’t drive her away. If not, what has she to go to? What will become of her? To be a governess. Why, that is simply senseless nonsense, being a governess. While she is looking for a place, what is she going to live upon at home? Her old father has got nine to keep; they go hungry themselves. She won’t take a farthing from me, you know, if she goes away through this disgusting gossip; she won’t, nor will her father. And to go away like this — it is awful! It will cause a scandal — I know. And her salary has been paid for a long time in advance for necessities at home; you know she is their breadwinner. Why, supposing I do recommend her as a governess, and find an honest and honourable family… . But where the devil is one to find them, honourable, really honourable people? Well, granting that there are many — indeed it’s a blasphemy to doubt it, but, my dear boy, you see it’s risky — can one rely on people? Besides, anyone poor is suspicious, and apt to fancy he is being forced to pay for food and kindness with humiliation! They will insult her; she is proud, and then … and what then? And what if some scoundrelly seducer turns up? She would spurn him, I know she would, but yet he would insult her, the scoundrel! And some discredit, some slur, some suspicion may be cast upon her all the same, and then… . My head is going round! Ah, my God!”

“Uncle, forgive me for one question,” I said solemnly. “Don’t be angry with me; understand that your answer to this question may decide much. Indeed, I have a right in a way to demand an answer from you, uncle!”

“What, what it is? What question?”

“Tell me as in God’s presence, openly and directly; don’t you feel that you are a little in love with Nastasya Yevgrafovna yourself and would like to marrv her? Just think; that is why she is being turned away from here.”

My uncle made a vigorous gesture of the most violent impatience.

“I? In love? With her? Whv, they have all gone off their heads, or are in a conspiracy against me. And why did I write to you to come if not to prove to them that they were all off their heads? Why am I making a match lor her with you? I? In love? With her? They are all crazy, that’s all about it!”

“But if it is so, uncle, do allow me to speak freely. I declare to you solemnly that I see absolutely nothing against the suggestion. On the contrary, you would make her happy, if only you love her and — and — God grant it may be so. And God give you love and good counsel!”

“But upon my word, what are you talking about?” cried my uncle, almost with horror. “I wonder how you can say such a thing coolly … and … you are altogether, my boy, in too great a hurry, I notice that characteristic in you! Why, aren’t you talking nonsense? How, pray, am I to marry her when I look upon her as a daughter and nothing else? It would be shameful for me, indeed, to look upon her in any other light; it would be a sin in fact! I am an old man, while she is a flower! Indeed, Foma made that clear to me in those very words. My heart glows with a father’s love for her, and here you talk of marriage! Maybe out of gratitude she would not refuse me, but you know she would despise me afterwards for taking advantage of her gratitude. I should spoil her life, I should lose her affection! And I would give mv soul for her, she is my beloved child! I love her just as I do Sasha, even more, I must own. Sasha is mv daughter by right, by law, but this one I have made my daughter bv love. I took her out of poverty, I have brought her up Katya, my lost angel, loved her; she left her to me as a daughter. I have given her a good education: she speaks French and plays the piano, she has read books and everything… . Such a sweet smile she has! Have you noticed it, Seryozha? As though she were laughing at one, but yet she is not laughing, but on the contrary, loving one… . You see I thought that you would come and make her an offer; they would be convinced that I had no intentions in regard to her, and would give over spreading these disgusting stories. She would remain with us then in peace, in comfort, and how happy we should be! You are both my children, both almost orphans, you have both grown up under my guardianship … I should have loved you so! I would have devoted my life to you; I would not part from you; I would follow you anywhere! Oh, how happy we might have been! And why are these people always so cross, always so angry, why do they hate each other? If only I could explain it all to them! If only I could make them see the whole truth! Ah, my God!”

“Yes, uncle, yes, that is all so; but, you see, she has refused me.”

“Refused you! Hm. … Do you know, I had a sort of presentiment that she would refuse you,” he said, musing. “But no!” he cried. “I don’t believe it. It’s impossible. In that case, all our plans are upset! But you must have begun injudiciously somehow, even offended her perhaps. Perhaps you tried your hand at paying compliments… . Tell me how it was again, Sergey.”

I repeated the whole story in full detail again. When I came to Nastenka’s hoping by her departure to save my uncle from Tatvana Ivanovna, he gave a bitter smile.

“Save me!” he said. “Save me till tomorrow morning… .”

“But you don’t mean to say that you are going to marry Tatyana Ivanovna!” I cried in alarm.

“How else could I have paid for Nastasya’s not being sent away tomorrow? Tomorrow I make the offer — the formal proposal.”

“And you have made up your mind to it, uncle?”

“What could I do, my boy, what could I do? It rends my heart, but I have made up my mind to it. The proposal will be tomorrow; they suggest that the wedding should be a quiet one, at home; it would certainly be better at home. You will perhaps be best man. I have already dropped a hint about you, so they won’t drive you away before then. There is no help for it, my boy. They say, ‘It’s a fortune for your children!’ Of course one would do anything for one’s children. One would turn head over heels, especially as really, perhaps, what they say is right. You know, I really ought to do something for my family. One can’t sit an idle drone for ever!”

“But, uncle, she is mad, you know!” I cried, forgetting myself, and there was a sickly pang at my heart.

“Oh, mad, is she now? She is not mad at all; it’s only, you know, that she has had trouble… . There is no help for it, my boy. Of course I should have been glad of one with sense… . Though, after all, some who have sense are no better! If only you knew what a kindhearted creature she is, noble-hearted!”

“But, my God! he is resigning himself to the thought of it already,” I said in despair.

“And what else is there to do? You know they are doing their utmost for my benefit, and, indeed, I felt beforehand that sooner or later they would force me to marry, that there is no getting out of it. So better now than make more quarrelling about it. I am telling you everything quite openly, Seryozha. In a way I am actually glad. I have made up my mind, somehow. Why, I came here with my mind almost at ease. It seems, it’s my fate. And the great thing to make up for it wras that Nastenka would stay on. You know I agreed on that condition. And now she wants to run away of herself! But that shall not be!” my uncle cried, stamping. “Listen, Sergey,” he added with a determined air; “wait for me here, don’t go away. I will come back to you in an instant.”

“Where are you off to, uncle?”

“Perhaps I shall see her, Sergey; it will all be cleared up, believe me that it will all be cleared up, and … and … you shall marry her, I give you my word of honour!” . My uncle went quickly out of the room, and turned not towards the house, but into the garden. I watched him from the window.