Sonia. A Russian story

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Contents

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I. AN EXPERIMENT 21

■ II. A mother’s sacrifice 30

Chapter I. An Experiment

ANTED — A Tutor for the summer months, by VV a family in the country. For particulars, address Madame La Generale Gor^line, at the Tvershdiay Maison Mialof, Moscow.^^

Why not?” said Boris Gr4bof to himself, as he folded the journal in which he had just read this advertisement. ^^Why not this as well as another? And since there must always be a first time, why not to-day as^well as to-morrow ? ” He rose, put on his light spring overcoat, and went out to try his fate.

He certainly could not have been accused of too much eagerness in this act; he walked on with an indifferent air. La Tverskaia was a long distance off; to reach it, he was compelled to pass through the Chinese district — that most picturesque bazar of Moscow — resem-

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bling more a Byzantine town of the middle ages than a portion of a nineteenth century capital. The young man lingered at every corner, using the slightest possible excuse for delay ; but destiny furnished none of sufficient consequence, and he reached General Gor^line’s without having found any pretext for turning back.

As the outer door swung open, a Swiss in a green uniform, considerably the worse for w^ear, profusely trimmed with tarnished gold lace, emerged from a small niche in the vestibule. A strong odor of soup, a mixture of cabbage and dried mushrooms, exhaled from this apparition.

“What do you want?” he asked, in a tone of impertinent familiarity, as he examined the young man from head to foot.

“ What do I want ? ” replied Gr4bof, in a tone that was a precise repetition of the man’s. “ I want to see Madame La G4n4rale Gor4line ? ”

“Ah ! you come for the place then? You are a tutor, I suppose. Very well, you may go up.”

“ Where is ^ up,’ if you please?”

“ The fourth floor. A good many young students have been here these last two days, but they have not suited ! ”

“This is certainly encouraging and agreeable,” murmured Gr^bof, as he climbed, not without some difficulty, the last two flight of stairs — stairs as steep as a ladder in a granary — particularly in comparison with the lower ones, which were as comfortable as if they had been built for an archbishop. “A Swiss who meddles with the business of the family, and stairs that are as difficult to climb as the

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masts of a ship at sea are not pleasant things to begin with ! Pshaw ! I shall not suit either, but the first step will have been taken at all events.’^

He stopped, for he was on the upper floor, and stood before a door that was draped with faded hangings, and was decorated with a copper plate on which was engraved the name of Stepane PHrovitch GorelinCf and rang the bell. No one came. After waiting a considerable length of time, he, in an atrocious humor, was about to sound another and more vigorous peal, when he heard the hurried steps of a servant, who stopped evidently to fasten the last buttons of his livery coat, then threw open the door, and Boris found himself before a' little man of a half frightened aspect.

Madame La G^n^rale Gor^line ? asked Gr^bof, glancing at the shabby clothes of the servant, which were white on every seam and ragged at every button-hole.

The establishment had no attractions for our hero, and he was sorely tempted to turn his back upon it.

Madame is at home,’^ replied the little man, in a flurried tone. You came for the place I suppose, sir !

Yes, for the place,’^ said Boris, half angrily. seems to me that all of you know my business better than I do myself !

The little man, frightened half out of his senses, drew back hastily, and answered in an apologetic tone:

“ Madame gave orders that any one who came for the place should be admitted. Walk in, sir.”

Boris found himself in a salon furnished in wine-colored velvet. The hangings had suffered cruelly from the

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ravages of moths, the paper was soiled and torn in spots, the wood of the sofas and arm-chairs were scratched and had long since parted with its varnish, and the worn and shabby carpet, which covered only a portion of the parquet, showed by its irregularity of pattern that it had been repaired, and the oldest pieces cut out.

A full-length portrait of G4n4ral Gor^line, with all his decorations, and with cannons in the background, ornamented the wall on the left. On the right, half barricaded by a table covered with albums, hung another portrait, also full-length, and equally worthless in point of execution, but of which the original must have been possessed of remarkable beauty.

The regular features looked as if they were carved from ivory, and the delicate coloring of the complexion was like that of a Bengal rose that has paled under a summer sun. The expression of this portrait was like that of most portraits — a smile of utter vacancy.

If that is Madame Gor^line,’^ said Boris to himself, as he examined it, ‘^she has certainly been in her day a very beautiful woman, and ought to retain some traces of beauty.”

A rustle of silk was heard. Boris turned; Madame Gor^line had entered the room. She bowed slightly to the young man, and took a seat just- under her own portrait.

This habit, adopted in her youth to demonstrate that the likeness was not a flattered one,” had become fatal with the lapse of time. The teeth were discolored, the nose had grown red and pointed, and a mechanical, bitter sort of smile had taken the place of the commonplace sweetness of the picture.

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There is not much beauty left there!’’ thought Boris, while Madame Gor^line pointed to a chair, and uttered, in French, the conventional, ‘^Be seated, sir.”

You wish to pass the summer with us?” said the lady, very sweetly.

Boris bowed in acquiescence.

“ Let me tell you how matters are,” she continued.

You would be required to teach my little boy, Eugene. He is eleven, and is really a very nice lad. I do not say this, I assure you, merely because I am . his mother, but every one says the same; all our neighbors in the country simply worship him. I wish to send him to school in the autumn, and the summer must be spent in preparing him for his examination in sciences and languages — ^you speak French?”

Yes, madame.”

^^And German?”

Not very well ; but I can teach it perfectly.”

^^And Latin and Greek?”

Those are not necessary, madame, for the primary class in our schools,” answered Boris, repressing a smile; for the interview was becoming amusing; ^‘but I am equally at home in those two languages. I have devoted much time to them for the three past years at the university.”

Madame GorGine thawed more and more. ^'You see,” she said, ‘^a teacher must be well founded on every subject if he is to be subjected to the incessant questions of children — intelligent children, I mean, of course. It is literally true, sir, that even I am sometimes nonplussed by the questions asked by my sou. I always answer them.

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to be sure, for it is essential to preserve one^s prestige ; but, however, you know yourself what children are”

Indeed I do not!^^ answered Boris, somewhat curtly.

^^Ah, indeed! I conclude, then, this is the first time that you have sought a tutor’s place for the summer? ” Yes, madame, this is the first time.”

“Ah I and yet you have been for three years at the university?”

“Yes, madame.”

“It is very singular — ”

She stopped as she encountered the somewhat haughty eyes of the young man, and dared not continue her crossexamination.

“ It is most singular,” she resumed, after a second of silence, “that you have never cared to pass a summer in a family ; still, so far as I am concerned, this would prove no obstacle — in fact, quite the contrary; you would be for my son more of a companion than a master, and that is what I desire.”

“I shall remember these words,” said Boris to himself.

“ We pass our summer near Smolensk, where I have an estate. We leave town on the 14th of May — that is to say, a week from Tuesday. You can accompany us if you choose, or can follow a day or two later; there is a diligence which brings you within ten versts of us. You will have much leisure, for Eugene is still so young that four hours of study are enough for him. You can ride and drive. We have a river, where there is good bathing in warm weather. Of course you will be regarded as a member of the family,” continued the lady with a beaming smile, the effect of which was, however, rendered less charming by the teeth it displayed.

^‘How delightful ! and how extremely convenient it all appears!” said Boris, continuing his soliloquy; but he was amused, nevertheless.

“As to the salary,” resumed Madame La G4n4rale, becoming more austere in manner, “ I give twenty roubles per month for three months — that is to say, sixty roubles for the summer.”

These last words seemed to distress her, for she stopped short and examined her cambric handkerchief, which was sadly torn near the embroidered cipher.

“I cannot accept less than a hundred roubles, madame, for the three months,” answered Boris, in a polite but very firm tone.

“A hundred silver roubles to prepare a small boy for school ! Really, sir, the duties demanded of you are so trivial, and your time will be nearly all at your own disposal.”

“ I care not if my duties are trivial or not, madame,” interrupted Boris, calmly, “ but I assure you that it is impossible for me to accept less than the hundred roubles I ”

The lady was silent, and evidently embarrassed. Boris pleased her ; his modesty and dignified bearing impressed her most favorably; while a certain vague sense of his superiority which would permit her to say to her friends, I have with me a man of the most extraordinary talents,” tempted her to yield ; “ but one hundred roubles,” she said to herself, “ one hundred roubles are a great deal of money.”

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I regret, madame,” said Boris, rising, that we cannot come to an understanding.’^

He said this in French, with an accent that had so little of the Muscovite intonation that the lady placed her hand on his arm to detain him.

This is really your final decision ? ” she said.

I never bargain, madame,” he answered, with some little disgust.

^‘Really, but it is an enormous sum! Since you insist upon it, I must yield, I presume.” (She had had a happy thought.) “As you will have so many unoccupied hours, you would, I imagine, be willing to give my daughter some lessons in French. She left school last year, and I am afraid is losing much of what she learned. Lydie ! ” she called.

“ Mamma I ” replied a fresh young voice.

“Come here!”

The door opened, and Boris saw the original of the portrait that had once resembled Madame La Gen^rale ; but this was a brilliant, smiling original : a little haughty in bearing, proud of her beauty, and sure of her empire. It was Mademoiselle Lydie Goreline.

“ Lydie, my child,” said her mother, “ this is — I beg your pardon, sir, but I do not yet know your name ? — ”

“ Grebof — Boris Ivanovitch.”

“This is Boris Ivanovitch, who will pass the summer with us in the country, and who will help you with your French.”

The young girl cast a half-pouting, half-pleased look at Grebof — pleased, without doubt, at having such a good-

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looking preceptor (for Boris was a very handsome fellow), and pouting at the idea of resuming her studies.

“Come and dine with us Sunday, Boris Ivanovitch; you will then make my husband’s acquaintance, and can see my Eugene. He is out walking just now : it is a pity, I should have liked you to see him ; but Sunday will do.”

Boris now rose, notwithstanding the entreaties of Madame La G^n^rale to prolong his stay, and with a profound bow left the room. The little frightened servant helped him on with his overcoat ; and, as he stood in the anteroom, the young man heard Lydie say to her mother, in the most decided tones :

“I will not, mamma — I will not! I hate French, and loathe a French grammar, and I will never touch one again ! ”

“Listen, dear,” said Madame Gordline: “this young man has made most exorbitant terms, and he must be thoroughly utilized.”

“I won’t utilize him, then!” replied Miss Lydie.

The door closed, and Gr^bof heard no more. As he went out, the Swiss in the shabby livery appeared again.

“Well, sir, is that you?”

“Yes, my good fellow, it is I!” answered Boris, laughing good-naturedly ; “ and everything is settled.”

“ The G^n^ral will be thankful enough,” said the Swiss ; “ all this commotion did not suit him.”

“ The G^n^ral ? Ah I yes, I understand ; in fact, I had forgotten that there was such a person,” muttered Boris, in a low voice. “ Everything is for the best, to be sure ; but these are droll servants, upon my word!”

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CHAPTER II. A mother’s sacrifice

AS Boris walked through the streets on his way to his rooms, he was conscious of a feeling of unaccountable depression.

“ It is because I have sold myself into bondage ! ” he muttered, and this thought disturbed him more than he would have believed possible. ‘^The chains do not threaten to be very heavy ; and after all,” he continued, “ three months is no time at all — and then one hundred roubles means to me, that I shall not be compelled to give lessons next winter, but shall have plenty of leisure to prepare myself for my future career.”

In order to get rid of this melancholy impression, he went into the Kremlin gardens, and climbed the hill. He panted for fresh air ; the walls of the wine-colored salon still seemed to stifle and weigh him down.

Arriving on the esplanade covered with churches, which crowns the Kremlin, he put his arms on the parapet and looked at the superb panorama that was spread out before him. Countless domes and towers, of every form and color, were seen above thick masses of trees and roofs of houses. A bright ray of sunshine rested on the enormous gilded cupola of the Saint Sauveur. At his feet the river glittered like a narrow steel ribbon, and further off* lay a mass of green hills, one lapping over the other, and nearer were

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the various monasteries, amid newly planted fields and wcTods of the tenderest, freshest spring foliage.

The swallows uttered joyous cries as they flew around the old towers, and hope revived in the heart of the young man. A gust of wind stole his hat ; he caught it with a laugh, and like all conquerors, all poets, and many another beside, whose names are unknown to fame, cried aloud :

“ I shall make a place for myself yet in this world — the future is mine ! ”

Saluting with a triumphant gesture the city, which was as yet ignorant of his existence, he turned away, and with a rapid step sought his rooms, where he at once seated himself, and wrote as follows to his mother:

Dearest Mother : — I told you that I had decided to take a situation for the summer, that I might lay aside sufficient money to enable me to work without hindrance next winter. I have found a family where I shall have a certain portion of the day to myself, and at the same time earn a hundred roubles with much ease. I am sure that you, in thinking how useful this sum will be to me, will agree in thinking my step a wise one; nevertheless, as you very well know, I should have infinitely preferred to pass the summer with you in my native village

Here Boris stopped writing. This native village, with its peasants’ homes, the great swing on the green, that always caught in the branches of the birch trees, if it was pushed too high, and which then scattered on the turf and in the clear brook showers of their perfumed petals ; the

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songs of the children in their red skirts on fete-days, and the old blind horse that was always pulled to the left if he was wanted to go to the right, and the superannuated Drozhkij in which his mother visited the remote corners of their estate ; all these beloved familiar scenes and things, passed before his eyes in a moment, and Boris laid his head on his folded arms while an unwonted moisture filled his eyes.

For the first time for twenty years he would not this summer see that dear home. And who could tell what was in store for him in this other dwelling-place where he had promised to take up his abode, and where he slx)uld feel, in all probability, like a chained and imprisoned animal.

He started to his feet, and took two steps toward the door, ready to give up his engagement. But battling bravely against this weakness, he returned to the table, and again resumed his pen —

— with you in my native village, where I fear the days will be long for you without me. But, you know, my beloved mother, that our modest means entails certain sacrifices upon both of us. You have deprived yourself of many things for me, and it is my part now to take care of myself — as many a college student of my years has done without a thought of hardship. Nevertheless, the sacrifice would be I fear, impossible for me to make, did I not intend to see you before the Christmas vacation. I shall visit you, rest assured, before the beginning of the university term. Write to me, dearest and best of mothers

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— tell me that you approve of my resolution, for if my absence grieves you too much, I will renounce the project.^^

Having added a few words more, he sealed his letter and addressed it to Varvara Petrovna, in the town of Gribova, District of Kostroma.

The following Sunday came the reply. This most excellent of women loved her son 4oo tenderly to throw any obstacle in his path. She had wept much on reading his letter, but not a tear had stained the paper. The Holy Saints, before whose Images she knelt morning and night, alone knew the pangs her resolution had cost her.

But try and come to me this autumn,^’ she said, for I am growing old, my son ; and I have not yet grown accustomed to seeing so little of you !

Boris read between the lines and well knew all that was concealed in this simple request. He pressed the letter to his lips, and went to dine with Madame Gor^line.

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CHAPTEE III.

LYDIE.

ADEMOISELLE LYDIE had probably taken a

-LV-L violent dislike to the student on account of the French grammar, for she did not make her appearance at the family dinner. She had chosen this day to pay a visit to one of her friends, and at four o’clock sent word that she should remain to dinner. Madame Gor^line was highly displeased, and her husband, as usual, was the chosen victim of her ill-humor.

It would be difficult to imagine a smaller being, or a more active and philosophic a person than G^n^ral Gor^- line.

Accustomed to the impossibility of opening his lips in the presence of his better half, he had adopted early in his married life the part of silence wffien with her. But he made amends for this when he found a good listener.

Intolerant toward others — in words be it understood — almost as much so as his wife was toward him, he announced his opinions, solid and full-grown — almost as if they were of bronze, like his cannons; but these opinions were forgotten by himself as soon as uttered, and if his own arguments were presented the next day, he demolished them to powder with the ease and directness of a shell thrown into a fort.

This charming child” of Madame Goreline’s — her

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Engine — was a boy much like other boys, neither more nor less intelligent, but deliciously impertinent toward his father ; as any one who heard the manner in w’hich Madame Gor^line addressed her husband, in the presence of her children, might easily suppose would be the case.

The dinner, scanty and pretentious, was precisely that indicated by the wine-colored salon. There was one fish, delicate and well-cooked, but insufficient in quantity for the number of guests, of whom two or three had but a crumb or two floating in the mayonnaise dressing. The salad was made of rancid oil and watery vinegar, a domestic fabrication, and so on to the end.

The mistress of the house overwhelmed Boris with attentions and dainty morsels. Eugene, somewhat intimidated by the presence of the new-comer, behaved in the most satisfactory manner ; and the G4n4ral was so much absorbed that he did not open his mouth after the first and only four words.

Delighted to see you ! -

The other guests — four or five — dull and. uninteresting, had begun a discussion on the respective merits of different races of cows.

Boris was bored to death. His face told this perhaps, for Madame Gordline cut short a very elaborate description of their summer home.

They went back to the salon to take their coffee. Boris was thinking how he should escape without appearing to be guilty of a rudeness, when suddenly the door was thrown widely open, Lydie appeared, rosy and smiling, dressed in white, with wide blue ribbons, and

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carrying in her hand a bunch of white lilacs. Boris, struck with the radiant beauty of the girl, examined her with more attention than he had previously done. This she at once detected, and rewarded him with a most gracious bow and smile, wherein a close observer might have read far more than met the eye.

How early you have returned ! exclaimed her mother. ^'At what hour, pray, did you dine ? ’’

am sure I donT know,” answered Lydie, seating herself just opposite Boris ; but I was tired, and I left as soon as we rose from the table.”

I am glad you were away ! ” cried Eugene, for we had more cake ! ”

Madame Goreline cast reproving glances at this terrible Eugene ; but they were quite thrown away, for he began again ;

If you had been at the table, there would not have been enough cake to go round, for father took two pieces ! ”

Madame Goreline concealed her anger under an explosion of forced laughter. But Lydie, evidently annoyed at the turn taken by the conversation, addressed herself to Boris in her sweetest tone :

“Shall you go with us next Tuesday, sir?” she asked.

“ I cannot yet say.”

“ But you must decide at once, Boris Ivanovitch,” said Madame Gor61ine. “ If you come we shall take the carriage and the caleche ; if not, I shall take the carriage alone, and send my maid by the diligence — ”

“And we four go in the carriage ? ” interrupted Lydie. “ No, indeed, mamma, I will not go in the carriage with

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papa, who smokes all day, and with Eugene, who kicks everybody in the most persistent fashion/’

“Which do you prefer that I should do?” asked Boris of his hostess.

“ Why, if you come, I can put you and Eugene in the caliche, and take my maid in with us.”

Lydie made a slight indefinable gesture.

“ Come ! Mr. Boris,” she said, “ it is delightful to travel in a caravan, and besides we shall pass the night at one of the stations — ”

“ ISTo,” interrupted her mother, “ this time we shall not stop.”

“Ah ! well — that is better still. I delight in travelling at night, when the dew is falling and the ground is fresh and damp.”

Boris thought of the thick woods, musical with the songs of nightingales, that he passed through on his way to his mother’s house, and his heart ached.

“You will come with us, will you not? Besides,” the girl added, dropping her voice, “ it is by no means certain that Eugene will be your companion all the journey.”

Boris looked at her in some doubt, not quite sure of what she meant.

“ You shall have papa for a portion of the day,” she continued, with a gay little laugh. “ Mamma, it is all settled ; Mr. Boris will go with us ! ”

As indeed he did. And the cunning Lydie, who being a thoroughly spoiled child, always compassed her own ends, arranged matters so well, that she was his companion in the large caliche, sometimes alone and sometimes with her little brother, for the greater part of the journey

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Chapter IV. Lessons

T he window was open; the flickering shadow of the lindens played over the copy-book lying on the table; the hum and whirr of insects filled the garden; and the wide lake sent golden arrows of light into the eyes of Boris as he dictated to his charming pupil, who had really become wonderfully submissive. The great room in which he gave his lessons w'as cool and almost damp, notwithstanding the warmth of the June weather. Mademoiselle Lydie had placed that day a white rose in her chestnut hair, whose rippling, capricious waves took a golden tint in the light. One rebellious curl almost concealed the flower which peeped out occasionally at some dainty movement of the pretty head bowed over the copy-book.

“The flowers that we have gathered to-day dictated the young man, “ will be faded to-morrow — from the verb faner — now how will you write the past participle, mademoiselle?^^

As he mechanically asked thii^ question, Boris looked at the white rose which was so near his hand.

It was a month since he left Moscow, and he was no longer his own master. An irresistible force had swept away all his outposts and left him without protection. Until then love had seemed to him like a glorious dream.

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the realization of which was afar off in the future ; and now he had learned that there was neither light nor warmth, hope nor joy, save in the eyes of this young girl.

He loved her with all his soul — as only a youth of his years can love — with a love that perhaps was not of any great depth or lasting duration, but by which Boris was now completely absorbed.

Lydie, you are writing with your nose ! cried Madame Goreline, who at this moment passed the open door.

Lydie started, and then went to close the door with an air of ill-humor, but returned laughing. Boris was very pale. The voice of Madame Gor^line was heard in the distance scolding the gardener. Lydie had reseated herself, taken her pen, and prepared to write. She repeated the last words, ^Haded to-morrow!’^

^^Give me your book,” said Boris, in a constrained tone.

Not yet : dictate some verses as you did the other day,” answered Lydie, clasping her book in both hands.

Boris drew toward him a volume of selections.

^^No, not that: it is stupid. Dictate to me that poem — ^Spring Time in the Alps,’ you know ! ”

Still silent, Boris took the small yellow volume and opened it at hap-hazard. Lydie drew it away and chose a page.

“ Here ! ” she said, pushing the volume toward the young man.

He began to read. He sought to impart to his voice a

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tone of indifference ; but the impassioned melody of the poem, which is absolutely intoxicating, took him entirely off his feet. He suddenly stopped, for he felt that he was conquered.

^^Your book?’^ he said, and he could not utter one other syllable.

Lydie, without lifting her eyes, laid the book before him. He was dizzy; for a month he had seen her, coquettish and gay, indifferent and cruel by turns, but so completely and adorably beautiful, that he found each day his lesson more difficult to give. Gathering all his courage' he drew the copy-book nearer.

I beg your pardon,^^ said Lydie, in a tone so low that he heard it with difficulty ; and she laid her hand on the page.

Their hands met. Boris grasped the slender fingers, which fluttered a little in his hold, but were not withdrawn. He endeavored to meet her eyes, but her face was turned aside, and he could see only her throat and one rosy ear suffused with blushes. He felt as if he w^ere no longer on earth as he lifted the girks hand to his lips. She started and made a futile attempt to take it away.

Lydie, I love you ! I love you more than life itself!