Russian Literature – Children Books – Russian Poetry – Ivan Turgenev – Clara Mílitch – Contents
< < < Chapter XI
Chapter XIII > > >
XII
No sooner had he arrived in that town and engaged a room at the hotel, than he dashed off in search of the widow Milovídoff’s house. During the whole course of his journey he had been in a sort of stupor, which, nevertheless, did not in the least prevent his taking all proper measures,—transferring himself at Nizhni Nóvgorod from the railway to the steamer, eating at the stations, and so forth. As before, he was convinced that everything would be cleared up there, and accordingly he banished from his thoughts all memories and speculations, contenting himself with one thing,—the mental preparation of the speech in which he was to set forth to Clara Mílitch’s family the real reason of his trip.—And now, at last, he had attained to the goal of his yearning, and ordered the servant to announce him. He was admitted—with surprise and alarm—but he was admitted.
The widow Milovídoff’s house proved to be in fact just as Kupfer had described it; and the widow herself really did resemble one of Ostróvsky’s women of the merchant class, although she was of official rank; her husband had been a Collegiate Assessor.[64] Not without some difficulty did Arátoff, after having preliminarily excused himself for his boldness, and the strangeness of his visit, make the speech which he had prepared, to the effect that he wished to collect all the necessary information concerning the gifted actress who had perished at such an early age; that he was actuated not by idle curiosity, but by a profound sympathy for her talent, of which he was a worshipper (he said exactly that—”a worshipper”); that, in conclusion, it would be a sin to leave the public in ignorance of the loss it had sustained,—and why its hopes had not been realized!
Madame Milovídoff did not interrupt Arátoff; it is hardly probable that she understood very clearly what this strange visitor was saying to her, and she merely swelled a little with pride, and opened her eyes widely at him on perceiving that he had a peaceable aspect, and was decently clad, and was not some sort of swindler … and was not asking for any money.
“Are you saying that about Kátya?” she asked, as soon as Arátoff ceased speaking.
“Exactly so … about your daughter.”
“And you have come from Moscow for that purpose?”
“Yes, from Moscow.”
“Merely for that?”
“Merely for that.”
Madame Milovídoff suddenly took fright.—”Why, you—are an author? Do you write in the newspapers?”
“No, I am not an author,—and up to the present time, I have never written for the newspapers.”
The widow bent her head. She was perplexed.
“Consequently … it is for your own pleasure?” she suddenly inquired.
Arátoff did not immediately hit upon the proper answer.
“Out of sympathy, out of reverence for talent,” he said at last.
The word “reverence” pleased Madame Milovídoff. “Very well!” she ejaculated with a sigh…. “Although I am her mother, and grieved very greatly over her…. It was such a catastrophe, you know!… Still, I must say, that she was always a crazy sort of girl, and ended up in the same way! Such a disgrace…. Judge for yourself: what sort of a thing is that for a mother? We may be thankful that they even buried her in Christian fashion….” Madame Milovídoff crossed herself.—”From the time she was a small child she submitted to no one,—she abandoned the paternal roof … and finally, it is enough to say that she became an actress! Every one knows that I did not turn her out of the house; for I loved her! For I am her mother, all the same! She did not have to live with strangers,—and beg alms!…” Here the widow melted into tears.—”But if you, sir,” she began afresh, wiping her eyes with the ends of her kerchief, “really have that intention, and if you will not concoct anything dishonourable about us,—but if, on the contrary, you wish to show us a favour,—then you had better talk with my other daughter. She will tell you everything better than I can….” “Ánnotchka!” called Madame Milovídoff:—”Ánnotchka, come hither! There’s some gentleman or other from Moscow who wants to talk about Kátya!”
There was a crash in the adjoining room, but no one appeared.—”Ánnotchka!” cried the widow again—”Anna Semyónovna! come hither, I tell thee!”
The door opened softly and on the threshold appeared a girl no longer young, of sickly aspect, and homely, but with very gentle and sorrowful eyes. Arátoff rose from his seat to greet her, and introduced himself, at the same time mentioning his friend Kupfer.—”Ah! Feódor Feódoritch!” ejaculated the girl softly, as she softly sank down on a chair.
“Come, now, talk with the gentleman,” said Madame Milovídoff, rising ponderously from her seat: “He has taken the trouble to come expressly from Moscow,—he wishes to collect information about Kátya. But you must excuse me, sir,” she added, turning to Arátoff…. “I shall go away, to attend to domestic affairs. You can have a good explanation with Ánnotchka—she will tell you about the theatre … and all that sort of thing. She’s my clever, well-educated girl: she speaks French and reads books quite equal to her dead sister. And she educated her sister, I may say…. She was the elder—well, and so she taught her.”
Madame Milovídoff withdrew. When Arátoff was left alone with Anna Semyónovna he repeated his speech; but from the first glance he understood that he had to deal with a girl who really was cultured, not with a merchant’s daughter,—and so he enlarged somewhat, and employed different expressions;—and toward the end he became agitated, flushed, and felt conscious that his heart was beating hard. Anna Semyónovna listened to him in silence, with her hands folded; the sad smile did not leave her face … bitter woe which had not ceased to cause pain, was expressed in that smile.
“Did you know my sister?” she asked Arátoff.
“No; properly speaking, I did not know her,” he replied. “I saw and heard your sister once … but all that was needed was to hear and see your sister once, in order to….”
“Do you mean to write her biography?” Anna put another question.
Arátoff had not expected that word; nevertheless, he immediately answered “Why not?” But the chief point was that he wished to acquaint the public….
Anna stopped him with a gesture of her hand.
“To what end? The public caused her much grief without that; and Kátya had only just begun to live. But if you yourself” (Anna looked at him and again smiled that same sad smile, only now it was more cordial … apparently she was thinking: “Yes, thou dost inspire me with confidence”) … “if you yourself cherish such sympathy for her, then permit me to request that you come to us this evening … after dinner. I cannot now … so suddenly…. I will collect my forces…. I will make an effort…. Akh, I loved her too greatly!”
Anna turned away; she was on the point of bursting into sobs.
Arátoff rose alertly from his chair, thanked her for her proposal, said that he would come without fail … without fail! and went away, bearing in his soul an impression of a quiet voice, of gentle and sorrowful eyes—and burning with the languor of anticipation.
[64] The eighth from the top in the Table of Ranks won by service to the state, which Peter the Great instituted. A sufficiently high grade in that table confers hereditary nobility; the lower grades carry only personal nobility.—TRANSLATOR.
< < < Chapter XI
Chapter XIII > > >
Russian Literature – Children Books – Russian Poetry – Ivan Turgenev – Clara Mílitch – Contents
Copyright holders – Public Domain Book
| If you liked this site, subscribe , put likes, write comments! Share on social networks Check out Our Latest Posts |
© 2023 Akirill.com – All Rights Reserved
AKirill, Learn, apprenez, translation, traduction, livres bilingues, bilingual books 