Part 10

Both Vava and Mimotchka had passed the time so agreeably at Jeleznovodsk, and liked it so much, that when they came to Kislovodsk they refused to admire anything, but stood out that Jeleznovodsk was a great deal nicer. Vava said that Jeleznovodsk was dark, green, and warm, while Kislovodsk was light, blue, and cold; and Mimotchka said she had a crooked looking-glass, and that her bed was a great deal harder than the one at Jeleznovodsk. Besides this, there were a good many of their Petersburg acquaintances at Kislovodsk--Princess X---,

with her daughter and niece, General Baraeff, a friend of Spiridon Ivanovitch's, and others besides.... Now they would get sick of them and their gossip, and good-bye to the freedom of Jeleznovodsk!

However, Vava and Mimotchka were soon reassured on that score. The princess seemed hardly to move from her place at the card-table, her daughter had captured a little _aide-de-camp_ with the object of leading him to the altar, her cousin was romantically and hopelessly in love with a very pale and very interesting gentleman, whose wife had run away from him, and who was making a cure at Kislovodsk, while General Baraeff was incessantly after a pretty widow, with whom he intended to go for a trip across the Caucasus. In fact, they all seemed quite taken up with themselves and their own amusements. The young princess and her cousin met Mimotchka and Vava very amiably and with transports of friendliness, but it was clear that they had not the slightest intention of profiting by their society, and were only anxious not to be interfered with in their walks and excursions. And both Mimotchka and Vava breathed freely again. The latter's entire circle of friends had assembled at Kislovodsk, excepting the student, who had gone with the Morozoffs to the Crimea. Vava welcomed them joyfully, and the day after their arrival the whole party undertook the ascent of the Krestoff mountain, the view from which so delighted Vava that in two or three days' time she began to like Kislovodsk better than Jeleznovodsk. And it really was better. Here there were silvery birch-trees, murmuring mountain streams, and, above all, the wonderful pure air, intoxicating and invigorating all who breathed it. And then, here there was more variety, it was more Eastern, more Caucasian.

Mamma accepted with pleasure the princess's offer to occupy the fourth place at her card-table, the former player having left for the Crimea. Vint was one of mamma's passions, and was a great deal more interesting than picquet with the bilious, irritable dignitary from Petersburg.

On the fourth day after their arrival Mimotchka put on a white dress and a red hat and went with Vava to the park. They both still drank koumiss, and went to the koumiss establishment to drink it. Passing through the colonnade they met Valerian Nicolaevitch, but a transformed Valerian Nicolaevitch! In a Tcherkesk costume, wearing a _beshmet,_[22] a _papaha,_ and with daggers stuck in his belt. And what a splendid _djigit_[23] he made! Tall, well built, and black browed! It was a surprise for Mimotchka. Rex walked majestically after his master.

[22] _Beshmet,_ a Tartar tunic; _papaha,_ a high sheepskin cap.

[23] _Djigit,_ a Circassian rider who performs feats of horsemanship.

"Isn't it odd?" said Valerian Nicolaevitch to the ladies as he greeted them; "I always bring this costume with me, but at the beginning of the season at Jeleznovodsk I haven't the courage to put it on. But here I already venture to wear the national dress, and all the more so because I am almost always on horseback. The environs are so lovely! Have you been anywhere yet?"

"Nowhere. With whom should I go?"

"How glad I am! The environs are so beautiful! And I so much wanted to show you my favourite places myself. Then shall we go for a ride to-day?"

"Let us go. Have you spoken about the horses?"

"Of course I have. Our horses are here, so we shall not have to look about for fresh ones. Osman came on with them yesterday."

When they had drunk their koumiss, Mimotchka and Vava carried off Valerian Nicolaevitch to speak to mamma, who was playing cards out of doors. Mamma was delighted to see him, and introduced him to the princess, who examined him through her eyeglass when he had moved from their table, and also thought him handsomer than the hussar Anutin.

And Valerian Nicolaevitch and Mimotchka went on to the end of the principal walk, losing Vava, who met some of her friends, on the way. Mimotchka was radiant. It was as if there had never been any quarrel between them; they were again on the old, pleasant, friendly footing. Mimotchka herself had hardly expected she would be so glad of it. Yes, he was more necessary to her than anyone. Life did not seem the same thing to her with him as with others. And he was so bright, so contented, so glad. Why was he glad? Because he was with her, of course. Was not that the reason why she was so glad! So glad, so glad! Ah, how happy she was!

After dinner Mimotchka lay down to rest a little. But she could not sleep, only lay there and rejoiced at his having come. How could she possibly sleep now? It rested her only to think of him. Could the presence, the vicinity of any other person bring such joy, such light into her life? Well, now he is here. And again they will be together amongst a crowd of strangers. That is all she wants. To be together, and to be young and lovely for him and through him. Because, for instance, the reason why she looks so well to-day is that he has come. The joy of it beautifies her. Oh, how she loves him! She never, never felt so before. And the chief thing is that there is nothing wrong in it. How can that be wrong which awakens the best part of her soul? She fears nothing, nothing.... Is it possible that she really loves him? Well, what if she does? She cannot hold back her heart nor stop it; how it beats!... Of course he will never know. She will never allow him to, and he would never permit himself ... What does it matter if she loves him? The purest and most honourable Woman may be carried away by her feelings.... And in spite of it she may have the strength to remain honest.... They are going out riding, and again there will be a whole evening for them together, they two alone! How beautiful! How beautiful!

Then she began to dress.... Never in her life had her toilet been so successful. Her hair seemed to arrange itself on her head, the buttoned-up habit bodice set like a glove, and when Mimotchka, having scented her handkerchief and taken her riding-whip from Katia's hands, threw a last glance at herself in the mirror, there looked out at her from it such an angelic, poetical little face, with shining eyes and a happy smile, that she almost blew a kiss to her own image. The horses were already brought round. He was seated on horseback, and talking to mamma through the window.

"Please, Valerian Nicolaevitch, do see that she doesn't ride too fast and too far. Any over fatigue is so bad for her, and she has got so venturesome and careless lately.... After all it's not long since her recovery. Do look after her. I give her into your charge."

"Be quite easy, Anna Arcadievna."

Mimotchka came down the steps and sprang lightly into the saddle; she smiled up at mamma and rode off beside Valerian Nicolaevitch, with Osman following a little behind them. And mamma looked after them and thought to herself: "What a fine-looking couple they make! If we lived in Arcadia instead of Petersburg that would have been the sort of husband to have. Still, everything is for the best. A man like that wouldn't have married her, but would have looked out for money, and after marriage would only have amused himself and deceived her.... Les beaux maris ne sont pas les meilleurs.... And you can always find as many admirers as you like, but a husband like Spiridon Ivanovitch is not picked up every day." ...

And mamma meditatively returned to her _coiffure,_ for she was going to see the princess. But where has Vava gone? "Where's your young lady?" she asked Katia.

"She was here a minute ago."

"A minute ago! I ask you where she is _now?_ What are you thinking of, pray? What do you receive wages for from Julia Arcadievna? You were told not to leave your young lady alone for a minute. Go and find her directly!"

Katia listened submissively to mamma, and after she had put together Mimotchka's scattered petticoats and hairpins, she did her hair, scented herself with Mimotchka's eau de toilette, put on a little grey jacket and a hat with a wing at the side, and hurried off to the park, where, at the end of a shady walk, she met David Georgevitch, who was Waiting for her, and who had already presented her with a Caucasian brooch and two turquoise rings.

After leaving Kislovodsk, Valerian Nicolaevitch and Mimotchka rode along the country road. Sometimes they went along slowly and sometimes galloped. (Valerian Nicolaevitch only rode at the kind of pace that pleased Mimotchka; _he_ was not like Variashksi!) At the first pause he began talking about horses, and told Mimotchka what kind of horses he had at Kieff and what kind on his estate. Afterwards, crossing the fords, they remembered Petchorin and Princess Mary,[24] and he talked about Lermontoff and literature.... It was just the same to Mimotchka on what subject she kept silence as long as she could listen to him. Then he began to speak of nature. And she, did she care about nature? Oh yes! (Mimotchka forgot that she had previously only cared about nature somewhere round a bandstand.) It seemed to her then that she loved and always had loved nature. Didn't she like cantering over this green steppe, that waved about like a sea? Didn't she admire the delicate outline of the chain of mountains that bordered the horizon? Oh yes, she loves nature. She had not known anything about it before. In Petersburg and Paris you only see nature in pictures at exhibitions....

[24] The hero and heroine of a novel, by Lermontoff, called a _Hero of our Times,_ and in which the scene laid in the Caucasus.

In the midst of their peaceful chat they met a carriage in which were seated General Baraeff and the widow. The general bowed amiably to Mimotchka, who nodded to him in return. Valerian Nicolaevitch began making fun of the general.

"It's Baraeff, a friend of my husband's," said Mimotchka.

When she mentioned her husband a shadow always passed over Valerian Nicolaevitch's face. Mimotchka was already aware of this, and was sorry she had mentioned him so _mal à propos._ They became silent, and pushed on their horses as if the recollection of poor Spiridon Ivanovitch obliged them to hasten to the object of their excursion.

"Where are we going to-day?" asked Mimotchka, when the horses got tired and fell back into a walking pace.

"We are going to-day to the 'Castle of Love and Treachery.'"

"A castle? Is there really a castle there?"

"No, there is no castle whatever; but there are rocks, very picturesquely situated rocks.... It's a lovely spot.... And there is a legend connected with the rocks. If it won't bore you to listen, I will tell you the legend."

"On the contrary, I should very much like to hear it."

"Well then, listen. A certain merchant had a daughter--of course she was young and beautiful."

"Why 'of course'?"

"Because otherwise she would not be worth talking about. Well, this daughter loved a youth, also young and beautiful. The young people loved each other as it is only possible to love under such a sun and amidst such scenery. (Probably you won't understand this, mais passons.) Well, the young people loved each other, but, as is generally the case, fate and circumstances were against them. The father of the girl rejected the suit of the enamoured youth, who was poor, and found another bridegroom for his daughter, a rich merchant like himself. The young people tried to overcome his objections, but he was inexorable; so they decided to die. One beautiful morning they came to these rocks--you will see them directly-stood at the edge of the abyss, so as to throw themselves down and be dashed to pieces on the stones, and said good-bye to each other--good-bye to life, to light, and to nature. 'Throw yourself down!' said the girl, 'and I will after you.' He smiled at her, threw himself into the gulf below, and was killed. And she ..."

"And she?"

"She went back home and married the rich merchant!"

"Oh, what an ..."

"Artful one, wasn't she? She married the merchant and the rocks kept the secret of his love and her treachery. Look--they are already visible, do you see? More to the left.... But we can go down there below." ...

"Then you have been here before?" ...

"Oh, more than once! But never in such charming company." ...

"What's that? un compliment?"

"No, I am not joking. Do you know, I love these rocks, this wild, picturesque spot, where every pathway, every stone awakens in me so many feelings and thoughts that have nothing in common with my dull, grey, everyday life.... And whenever I was here before, I always thought how beautiful it would be to come with some charming, poetical creature--in fact, to come as I have come to-day. And when I go home I shall say, 'Now let thy servant depart in peace!'" ...

The idea passed through Mimotchka's head: "Is he going to allow himself to?" ... But no, he had already begun talking again about the horses. Then they were both silent. They had to get down below by a steep, narrow path. Osman rode on in front, to show the way.

It had got dark. The moon had not yet made her appearance.

"This doesn't look much like a moonlight night. You said there would be a moon."

"Wait a little, only wait. There will be a moon."

"But we shan't see anything down there."

Mimotchka began to get alarmed at the darkness.

"Why shan't we see anything? Don't you see the rocks? How beautiful that pass is! And the moon will come out directly."

"Yes, but while we are waiting for the moon it will get late, and when shall we get back?"

"Late? What does it matter if it is late? It will be as light as day for us to ride back when the moon is up. You are not going anywhere this evening, are you?"

"No, I am not going anywhere, but mamma will be uneasy."

"She won't be uneasy, because she knows you are with me. And why think of going back when it is so beautiful here? But women never do understand how to enjoy the present moment. I pity them! Then you don't care for it here? I thought you were more sensitive to the beauties of nature.... Look at these rocks, at that sky, at those stars.... Do you remember those lines of Musset--

'J'aime! voilà le mot que la nature entière Crie au vent qui l'emporte, à l'oiseau qui le suit! Sombre et dernier soupir que poussera la terre Quand elle tombera dans l'éternelle nuit; Oh! vous le murmurez dans vos sphères sacrées, Etoiles du matin, ce mot triste et charmant! La plus faible de vous, quand Dieu vous a crées, A voulu traverser les plaines éthérées, Pour chercher le soleil, son immortel amant. Elle s'est élancée au sein des nuits profondes. Mais une autre l'aimait elle-meme; et les mondes Se sont mis en voyage autour du firmament.'

How beautiful they are, aren't they? I am sorry I can't see your face. I should like to know if you look as you always do."

"And how do I always look?"

"Cold, severe.... Like a general's wife."

"A general's wife? Naturally, I look what I am."

"Don't calumniate yourself. You are a woman. You should look like a woman, such a woman as stood there on the top of those rocks, wavering between sacrifice and treachery."

"But I don't in the least wish to resemble her."

"Why?"

"Because she behaved odiously."

"Perfidiously, yes, but she acted like a woman, a weak, false woman. And that is what pleases me. I like weakness in women. I don't care about strong-minded women-heroines. Let those who will sing their praises, I shall never be among their admirers. Strength of mind is as little suited to a woman as physical strength. A woman should be all weakness, all love, all tenderness. Let her weakness make her false. What does it matter as long as she is charming!... But you, how would you have acted in her place? Imagine that you are in love with someone--well, say, for instance, with me. I hope that such a supposition made in joke won't offend you. Imagine, then, that you are in love with me, here, now, as you are, in your present position."

"In my present position?... I think that if I were in love with you, I should endeavour that you should never find it out."

"And why so?"

"Because I am married, I am not free."

"La belle raison!"

"Comment, ce n'est pas une raison?... What would you say if your wife.."

At the mention of Spiridon Ivanovitch, Valerian Nicolaevitch had frowned; at the mention of his wife a bored, weary expression overspread his countenance. Mimotchka knew the expression well, and she always rejoiced at it. Although she had heard from the baroness that his wife was a charming woman, still it was more agreeable to her to think that she was dull, unsuited to him, and as little wanted as Spiridon Ivanovitch himself. If he were happy with her, he would not come away from her, and would not have such a pale, weary looking face and sunken cheeks, would he?... No; he was probably unhappy and suffering, and only did not complain because he was too proud. Poor dear!...

Meanwhile they had got down to the pass, and Valerian Nicolaevitch proposed to Mimotchka to dismount and walk to a place from where he considered the view of the rocks to be even finer. Osman led away the horses, and they made their way over the stones by the side of a murmuring mountain stream. A high, perpendicular rock rose behind them like a menacing wall. It seemed to Mimotchka as if she were descending into the bowels of the earth, or as if she were at the bottom of a deep well. The steppe across which they had galloped was so high above her head, and the sky, on which the long-expected moon had at last appeared, illuminating the rocks and their picturesque verdure, seemed so far off.

"Well, how do you like it?" ...

"C'est féerique," murmured Mimotchka "c'est féerique!" And what stillness, what utter stillness! No; decidedly she is somewhere not on the earth. And for an instant, for the last time, the disquieting thought came into Mimotchka's head. Had she done right to come here? He had asked her to come, but perhaps he would have had a better opinion of her if she had not come. But, no; what nonsense! What harm is there? Everybody comes here to admire nature, and she has also come to admire nature. It's no use to come to the Caucasus and not visit its picturesque parts. Otherwise afterwards, when she looks at photographs, she will find that she has not seen anything. Why doesn't Vava ride on horseback? She might have come with them. And what harm is there in her having come here alone with him? If she were to have gone with him to some restaurant now, that would have been dreadful! (But of course she would never have gone with him.) And they have only come here to admire nature. Yes, and besides, after all, they have the Tartar groom with them. Somewhere in the distance she can hear a horse neighing; those are their horses and Osman.

And, having quieted her conscience by such reflections, Mimotchka repeated, "C'est féerique!" ... And she sincerely admired the picturesque rocks, and Valerian Nicolaevitch sincerely admired her.

"You are not tired?" asked he, spreading out his cloak upon the ground. "Sit down; I am sorry that I have already told you the legend about the poor youth who was killed here. I ought to have told you it now, here, in view of the rocks.... Well, I must tell you something else."

Decidedly Mimotchka was no longer on earth. It was impossible that that could be the same moon that shone on Spiridon Ivanovitch and baby. That was somewhere far away, but this was quite a different moon so benignly protecting them. And what a soft, languorous, magic light she sheds over that little corner where they are alone together and so far from the crowds of people, from the noise and the world....

How quiet it is, how quiet!... What moments of full, perfect, unalloyed happiness! If one could only fall asleep here, die, and never awake again, never come back to life. And he was with her, near her, and gazing at her as her humble, faithful slave, as her devoted friend.

And for the first time in her life Mimotchka no longer thought if she was looking pretty or not, nor how she was dressed, nor what her aunts would say of her. She felt somehow strange, as if she were neither asleep nor awake. She had never experienced anything like it before. And her breathing was oppressed. For some moments she was afraid she was going to faint.

A stone fell and they both started. He drew still nearer to her. Were you frightened? Is that really him? Yes; those are his eyes shining. How pale he is! And how pale the moon is! What is it all--a dream or a reality? And Mimotchka, wishing to break through this fearful, oppressive silence and to get the better of the numbness overpowering her, repeated again, "C'est féerique, c'est féerique!"

And really there was something fairy-like, something extraordinary about the evening. And the most extraordinary thing of all was that Valerian Nicolaevitch took Mimotchka into his arms and kissed her--kissed her eyes, her lips, and her hair. How did it happen? How could he allow himself to, and how could she permit it?... Oh, "Castle of Love and Treachery!" Then he told her, in a caressing whisper, that it must have happened. Well, of course, once it had happened, probably it must have happened. But anyhow they must go home now quick, quick!... And when he put her into the saddle, he said to her, "My darling! My beautiful darling!" ... And she, helplessly putting her hair straight, said, "Il fait tard, il fait tard!" But she looked more radiantly beautiful than Spiridon Ivanovitch had ever seen her look, in spite of the fact of his commanding a division and having a whole division under his supervision.

They must ride back fast, very fast; but Mimotchka had somehow lost her riding-whip on the mountain. Osman and Valerian Nicolaevitch ran back to find it. They found the whip, and all three set off furiously across the steppe, now flooded by the moonlight.

The lights of Kislovodsk were shining when they rode up the long alley of poplars. From the chief hotel came the sounds of a waltz. Mamma was looking out for her daughter, sitting at the open window and getting uneasy.

"Here you are at last!" said she. "I was getting afraid that something had happened to you, that you had been attacked.... Well, what? Are you tired?" ...

"Yes; we hurried back so."

"Come in, Valerian Nicolaevitch, come in and have some tea."

Valerian Nicolaevitch thanked her, but refused. He had promised to go to a party somewhere. And when he had helped Mimotchka down from the saddle, he came to the gate with her, and whispered to her, "À demain!" and, with a look and a pressure of the hand, thanked her for going with him.

When she came in, Mimotchka refused tea and all refreshment, but went straight into her own room and hurriedly began undressing. She did not want to see anyone; and having put out the candle, she laid her radiant face on the pillow. How had it happened? She had no feeling either of repentance or of shame. She only felt happy and peaceful. This--fall, this--terrible step; it was a stain that could not be effaced; it was--a sin, she thought to herself; but how easy it had been to commit it! Maintenant c'est fini, elle est une femme perdue! And her husband?... But she mustn't think about it--no, she must not; better think about _him:_ Val! Val!... And Mimotchka went off to sleep soundly and tranquilly, as only happy people with a pure and easy conscience sleep.