Читать книгу The Precipice - Иван Александрович Гончаров - Страница 11

“‘Oh Volga, proudest of rivers,

Stem thy hurrying flood;

Oh Volga, hearken, hearken,

To the ringing song of the poet,

The unknown, whose life thou hast spared.’”

“Don’t be vexed with me, Borushka,” cried Tatiana Markovna, “but I think you are mad. What have you done with the papers I sent you? Have you brought them?”

“Where are they?” she continued, as he shook his head.

“Granny, I tore up all the accounts, and I swear I will do the same with these if you worry me with them.”

He seized the paper, but she snatched them away, exclaiming, “You dare to tear up my accounts.”

He laughed, suddenly embraced her, and kissed her lips as he had done when he was a child. She shook herself free and wiped her mouth.

“I toil till midnight, adding up and writing down every kopek, and he tears up my work. That is why you never wrote about money matters, gave any orders, made any preparations, or did anything of the kind. Did you never think of your estate?”

“Not at all, Granny. I forgot all about it. If I thought at all I thought of these rooms in which lives the only woman who loves me and is loved by me, you alone in the whole world. And now,” he said, turning to Marfinka, “I want to win my sisters too.”

His aunt took off her spectacles and gazed at him.

“In all my days I have never seen anything like it,” she said. “Here the only person with no roots like that is Markushka.”

“What sort of person is this Markushka. Leonti Koslov writes about him. How is Leonti, Granny? I must look him up.”

“How should he be? He crouches in one spot with a book, and his wife in another. But he does not even see what goes on under his nose, and can any good come from his friendship with this Markushka. Only the other day your friend came here to complain that that Markushka was destroying books from your library. You know, don’t you, that the library from the old house has been installed in Koslov’s house?”

Raisky hummed an air from “Il Barbiere.”

“You are an extraordinary man,” cried his aunt angrily. “Why did you come at all? Do talk sensibly.”

“I came to see you, Granny, to live here for a little while, to breathe freely, to look out over the Volga, to write, to draw....”

“But the estate? If you are not tired we will drive out into the field, to look at the sowing of the winter-corn.”

“Later on, Granny.”

“Will you take over the management of the estate?”

“No, Granny, I will not.” “Who then is to look after it? I am old and can no longer do all the work. Do you wish me to put the estate into strange hands?”

“Farm it yourself, Granny, so long as you take any pleasure in it.”

“And if I die?”

“Then leave everything as it is.”

Tatiana Markovna looked at the portrait of Raisky’s mother, for a long time she looked at the languishing eyes, the melancholy smile.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I honour the memory of the departed, but hers is the fault. She kept you by her side, talked to you, played the piano, read out of books and wept as she did so. And this is the result. Singing and painting. Now tell me, Borushka,” she went on in her ordinary tone, “what is to become of the house, of the linen, the silver, the diamonds? Shall you order them to be given to the peasants?”

“Do I possess diamonds and silver?”

“How often have I told you so? From your mother you have inherited all these things; what is to be done with them. I will show you the inventory of them.”

“Don’t do that, for Heaven’s sake. I can believe they are mine. And so I can dispose of them as I please?”

“Of course; you are the proprietor. We live here as your guests, though we do not eat your bread. See here are my receipts and expenditure,” she said, thrusting towards another big ledger which he waved away.

“But I believe all you say, Granny,” he said. “Send for a clerk and tell him to make out a deed, by which I give the house, the land, and all that belongs to it to my dear cousins, Veroshka and Marfinka, as dowry.” The old lady wrinkled her brow, and waited impatiently till he should finish speaking. “So long as you live, dear Granny,” he continued, “the estate naturally remains under your control; the peasants must have their freedom....”

“Never,” interrupted his aunt, “Veroshka and Marfinka are not beggars—each of them has her fifty thousand roubles—and after my death three times that sum, perhaps more. All I have is for my little girls, and, thank God, I am not a pauper. I have a corner of my own, a bit of land, and a roof to cover them. One would think you were a millionaire. You make gifts; you will have this, and you won’t have that. Here, Marfinka! where have you hidden yourself?”

“Directly!” cried Marfinka’s clear voice from a neighbouring room. Happy, gay, smiling and frank, she fluttered into the room, looked hesitatingly, first at Raisky, then at her aunt, who was nearly beside herself.

“Your cousin, Marfinka, is pleased to present you with a house, silver, and lace. You are, he thinks, a beggared, dowerless girl. Make a curtsey, thank your benefactor, kiss his hand—Well?”

Marfinka, who did not know what to say, squeezed herself flat against the stove and looked at her two relatives. Her aunt pushed papers and books on one side, crossed her hands over her breast, and looked out of the window, while Raisky sat down beside Marfinka, and took her hand.

“Would you like to go away from here, Marfinka, into a strange house, perhaps in an altogether different district?”

“God forbid! How could such a thing happen. Who ever imagined such nonsense?”

“Granny,” laughed Raisky.

Happily “Granny” had not heard the words. Marfinka was embarrassed, and looked out of the window.

“Here I have everything I want, the lovely flowers in the garden, the birds. Who would look after the birds? I will never go away from here, never!”

“But Granny wants to go and take you with her.”

“Granny! Where? Why?” she asked her aunt in her caressing, coaxing way.

“Don’t tease me,” said Tatiana Markovna.

“Marfinka, you don’t want to leave home?” asked Boris.

“Not for anything in the world. How could such a thing be?”

“What would Veroshka say about it?”

“She would never be separated from the old house.”

“She loves the old house?”

“Yes. She is only happy when she is here. If she were taken away from it she would die. We both should.”

“That matter is settled then, little sister. You two, Veroshka and you, will accept the gift from me, won’t you?”

“I will if Veroshka agrees.”

“Agreed, dear sister. You are not so proud as Granny,” he said, as he kissed her forehead.

“What is agreed?” suddenly grumbled Tatiana Markovna. “You have accepted? Who told you you might accept? Grandmother will never permit you to live at a stranger’s expense. Be so kind, Boris Pavlovich, as to take over books, accounts, inventories and sales. I am not your paid servant.” She pushed papers and books towards him.

“Granny!”

“Granny! My name is Tatiana Markovna Berezhkov.” She stood up, and opened the door into the servants’ room. “Send Savili here.”

A quarter of an hour later, a peasant of almost forty-five years of age opened the door with a casual greeting. He was strongly-built, big boned, and was robust, without being fat. His eyes with their overhanging brows and wide heavy lids, wasted no idle glances; he neither spoke an unnecessary word, nor made a superfluous gesture.

“The proprietor is here,” said Tatiana Markovna, indicating Raisky. “You must now make your reports to him. He intends to administer the estate himself.”

Savili looked askance at Raisky.

“At your orders,” he said stiffly, slowly raising his eyes. “What orders are you pleased to give?” he asked, lowering his eyes again. Raisky thought for a moment before he replied:

“Do you know an official who could draw up a document for the transfer of the estate?”

“Gavril Ivanov Meshetshnikov draws up the papers we require,” he said.

“Send for him.”

As Savili bowed, and slowly retired, Raisky followed him with his eyes.

“An anxious rascal,” was his comment.

“How should he be other than anxious,” said his aunt, “when he is tied to a wife like Marina Antipovna? Do you remember Antip? Well, she is his daughter. But for his marriage he is a treasure. He does my important business, sells the corn, and collects the money. He is honest and practical, but fate deals her blows where she will, and every man must bear his own burden. But what idea have you in your head now? Are you beside yourself?”

“Something must be done. I am going away, and you will not administer the estate, so some arrangement must be made.”

“And is that your reason for going? I thought you were now going to take over the management of your estate. You have done enough gadding about. Why not marry and settle here?”

She was visibly struggling with herself. It had never entered her head to give up the administration; she would not have known what to do with herself. Her idea had been to alarm Raisky, and he was taking her seriously.

“What is to be done?” she said. “I will see after the estate as long as I have the strength to do so. How else should you live, you strange creature?”

“I receive two thousand roubles from my other estate, and that is a sufficient income. I want to work, to draw, to write, to travel for a little; and for that purpose I might mortgage or sell the other estate.”

“God bless you, Borushka, what next? Are you so near beggary? You talk of drawing, writing, alienating your land; next it will be giving lessons or school teaching. Instead of arriving with four horses and a travelling carriage you sneak in, without a servant, in a miserable kibitka, you, a Raisky. Look at the old house, at the portraits of your ancestors, and take shame to yourself. Shame, Borushka! How splendid it would have been if you had come epauletted like Sergei Ivanovich, and had married a wife with a dowry of three thousand souls.”

Raisky burst out laughing.

“Why laugh? I am speaking seriously when I tell you what a joy it would have been for your Grandmother. Then you would have wanted the lace and the silver, and not be flinging it away.”

“But as I am not marrying, I don’t need these things. Therefore it is settled that Veroshka and Marfinka shall have them.”

“Your decision is final?”

“It is final. And it is further settled that if you do not like this arrangement, everything passes into the hands of strangers. You have my word for it.”

“Your word for it,” cried his aunt. “You are a lost man. Where have you lived, and what have you done. Tell me, for Heaven’s sake, what your purpose in life is, and what you really are?”

“What I am, Grandmother? The unhappiest of men!” He leaned his head back on the cushion as he spoke.

“Never say such a thing,” she interrupted. “Fate hears and exacts the penalty, and you will one day be unhappy. Either be content or feign content.”

She looked anxiously round, as if Fate were already standing at her shoulder.

Raisky rose from the divan.

“Let us be reconciled,” he said. “Agree to keep this little corner of God’s earth under your protection.”

“It is an estate, not a ‘corner.’”

“Resign yourself to my gift of this old stuff to the dear girls. A lonely man like me has no use for it, but they will be mistresses of a house. If you don’t agree, I will present it to the school....”

“The school-children! Those rascals who steal our apples, shall not have it.”

“Come to the point, Granny! You don’t really want to leave this nest in your old age.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see. Give them the lace on their wedding-day. I can do nothing with you; talk to Tiet Nikonich who is coming to dinner.” And she wondered what would come of such strangeness.

Raisky took his cap to go out, and Marfinka went with him. She showed him the park, her own garden, the vegetable and flower gardens, and the arbours. When they came to the precipice she looked anxiously over the edge, and drew back with a shudder. Raisky looked down on the Volga, which was in flood, and had overflowed into the meadows. In the distance were ships which appeared to be motionless, and above hung heaped banks of cloud. Marfinka drew closer to Raisky, and looked down indifferently on the familiar picture.

“Come down!” he said suddenly, and seized her hand.

“No, I am afraid,” she answered trembling, and drew back.

“I won’t let you fall. Do you think I can’t take care of you?”

“Not at all, but I am afraid. Veroshka has no fear, but goes down alone, even in the dusk. Although a murderer lies buried there, she is not afraid.”

“Try, shut your eyes, and give me your hand. You will see how carefully I take you down.”

Marfinka half closed her eyes, but she had hardly taken his hand and made one step, when she found herself standing on the edge of the precipice. Shuddering she withdrew her hand.

“I would not go down for anything in the world,” she cried as she ran back. “Where are you going to!”

No answer reached her. She approached the edge and looked timidly over. She saw how the bushes were bent noisily aside, as Raisky sprang down, step by step. How horrible! she thought as she returned to the house.