Part 3

Perhaps Mimotchka might give lessons, _courir le cachet?_ But lessons in what--French? She has read Ponson-du-Terrail and Co., read both Belot and Malot, read Octave Feuillet, but of grammar she has only the most confused ideas, and a knowledge of grammar is required in a teacher. And then to give lessons--that again means going about the streets alone and risking to be taken for Heaven knows what.... Poor Mimotchka is so pretty and feminine that, if she has not a proper companion with her and a footman walking behind her, she might be taken for goodness knows what!

Mimotchka neither knows how to sew nor cut out; she has never been taught to; and anyhow she could not become a dressmaker! She only knows how to cut out lamp-shades and do crochet. But then doing crochet does not bring in much.

In fact, all this talk of woman's work and woman's independence shows itself to be pure nonsense. And why argue about it when woman's calling and duties are plainly shown to her both by God and nature. She is to be a wife and a mother, the companion of man, from whose rib she was created for that purpose. Therefore, Mimotchka, wait, look out and secure a bridegroom--of course one that can be depended upon, and who has means. There is the third prospect for you, the third (and, it would seem, the only possible) way out for you from your present position.

There are some husbands predestinated by Fate itself for girls like Mimotchka, for girls who are poor, but have been spoilt, brought up in luxury, and are unaccustomed to privations. There are two classes of such husbands--either rich old bachelors, who have wasted their strength, health, intellect, and senses in a stormily spent youth, wasted everything except their too easily got money, and have tried every sensation that this money can give them, except that of possessing for their "very own" an innocent young wife, to purchase which, however, it is never too late; or else there are old bachelors in the contrary position to the first, who have begun their life and career in want and privation, timid, calculating, having been obliged to deny themselves everything in youth, and having at last scraped together the desired capital by fair means or foul, and attained the longed-for rank, position, period, and age which will enable them to contract a marriage with a young and pretty girl.

Heaven was not deaf to mamma's prayers, but sent her Spiridon Ivanovitch. Through the aunts and friends the marriage was settled and interviews arranged--of course everything being conducted in the most correct manner.

Spiridon Ivanovitch may be stupid or clever, good or bad; he may be pleasing or unpleasing, ugly or handsome--all these are unimportant details; what is important and beyond a doubt is, that he is a man of substantial means, elderly, capable, and reliable; he is also bald and wrinkled, suffers from a catarrh and rheumatism, and perhaps gout besides....

Is it really possible to marry him? Mamma stands up for Spiridon Ivanovitch. Mimotchka, believe mamma; she has more experience than you; she knows what life is. But what do you know about it? From novels?... "La vie n'est pas un roman," they tell you, and you will soon be convinced yourself that they are right.

And so Mimotchka submits. She gives her consent, coquettishly laughing at Spiridon Ivanovitch and victoriously tapping on the ground with the point of her little shoe, under the heel of which she is determined to keep her future husband.

V

The marriage was arranged in the following manner. Aunt Julia, between visiting, vint,[6] and the opera, somehow heard of Spiridon Ivanovitch and managed to get acquainted with him. When she was quite sure that his estate in the Government of Koursk was not mortgaged, but yielded a good income, and also that Spiridon Ivanovitch himself had not any serious entanglement (if you don't count a dancer, who was no longer very young, to whom he was only attached from habit, and by whom he had four rather pretty children), then Aunt Julia gave mamma to understand that she had something in view suitable for Mimotchka.

[6] Vint, a game at cards in the style of whist, but much more complicated, and played a great deal in Russia.

Mamma went at once to the monastery of St. Sergius and had a Te Deum sung.

Soon afterwards Aunt Julia sent out invitations to her friends for a dance. Mamma was told beforehand that Spiridon Ivanovitch would be there. Mimotchka had a charming _toilette crême_ made for her, which was worthy of being described in the pages of some "chronique de l'élégance." The toilette was very successful, and was much appreciated by all those present at the party. It was the first time Mimotchka had been out anywhere that winter; her mourning was only just over. The talk about her unexpectedly broken-off marriage and the mean way in which her _fiancé_ had behaved was unceasing, and went from mouth to mouth with additions and embellishments. In consequence of this, or perhaps simply because Mimotchka was particularly well dressed that evening, she anyhow attracted more attention than usual. She was universally admired and complimented. She danced more than any of the others, was unusually animated, and really was the queen of the evening.

Resting on a seat, giddy from the last _tour de valse,_ slightly out of breath and blushing a tender carnation, she felt approving glances directed at her from all sides, and the knowledge of her success made her look even prettier.

Spiridon Ivanovitch had been playing at cards; but before supper he came towards the dancing-room and stood at the door watching the dancers. He admired Mimotchka very much. That evening he was in luck and in good spirits. With the freedom of an old bachelor he loudly and openly praised the grace and loveliness of this charming doll, and even said that if he could only throw off some fifteen years from his shoulders he would make her an offer at once.

Mamma, who had been watching over Spiridon Ivanovitch the whole evening, caught these unguarded words, and her heart beat with a joyful hope.

During the mazourka,[7] Mimotchka, by Aunt Julia's advice, chose Spiridon Ivanovitch, who was still standing at the door, and crossed the room with him amidst general enthusiasm. Every one smiled as they looked at them: either at pretty Mimotchka's fancy in choosing such an old and unattractive partner, or at Spiridon Ivanovitch's venturing to dance at his age, with his rank and with his asthma, and without knowing how, or finally because Aunt Julia's guests had guessed her intentions and greeted the couple as future bride and bridegroom--be this as it may, anyhow everyone smiled and rejoiced as they looked at them. The stout Spiridon Ivanovitch, perspiring and puffing like a steam-engine, smiled himself, and the ethereal Mimotchka also smiled.

[7] The mazourka has figures, like a cotillion.

At supper they were seated side by side. The amiable Spiridon Ivanovitch, having frankly and rather nervously warned Aunt Julia that he was quite unaccustomed to the society of "respectable" women, and especially of innocent young girls, sat by Mimotchka's side and continued to gaze admiringly at her, playfully and most respectfully paid his addresses to her, was in fact quite taken up with her, and almost talked baby language so as to fall into the right tone and make himself understood.

Excited by the dancing and the champagne she had drunk, besides being very flattered by the attentions and admiration of this ridiculous stout man with the fringed epaulets,[8] Mimotchka became quite lively, flushed, and talked a great deal more than usual.

[8] Only Russian officers of staff rank wear fringed epaulets.

She told Spiridon Ivanovitch that she loved dancing, and that she had passed a very dull winter last year, because she had not gone out on account of her mourning for her papa; so that now she did so enjoy dancing again!... Then Mimotchka told him that she also loved little dogs, and that she had had such a darling of a dog, such a tiny, tiny little thing; its name was "Fanfreluche," and it had died! Mimotchka had cried a whole week. It had been the greatest sorrow of her life. She did so love that dog! And now Aunt Mary had given her another dog. It was a little larger, but also a darling, and she called it "Turlurette." ... And it could already stand on its hind legs!...

Spiridon Ivanovitch proposed the health of "Turlurette." ... Mimotchka laughed, coquetted, drank her champagne, clinking glasses with Spiridon Ivanovitch, and, her bright eyes sparkling, openly declared that she had never, never enjoyed herself so much!

And mamma looked at them from the other end of the table and was quite touched.

The next morning mamma, all in a flutter, came to see Aunt Julia and talk things over. They talked of the estates in the Government of Koursk, of the dancer and her children, and of Spiridon Ivanovitch's behaviour of the previous evening. It was decided to make a serious attack on him. Aunt Julia generously promised to help, and she managed the affair so cleverly that in some two or three weeks' time the unfortunate Spiridon Ivanovitch was caught and bound, and it only remained for him to fix the day of the wedding.

Mamma was beside herself with joy. At first she had perhaps hoped for something more brilliant; but now, in their terrible, hopeless position, after all the trouble and unpleasantness with the first _fiancé,_ Spiridon Ivanovitch appeared to her a treasure such as she had hardly-hoped to find. Yes, and looking at it seriously, what more could you desire in a _fiancé?_ He was a general, rich, and seemed to be a kind man besides.... There was the dancer and her children! Well, but it was really impossible for everything to be so entirely free from annoyance and irritation. As long as he did not ruin himself over that family, Mimotchka had really nothing to do with the matter and need not pay any attention to it.

Both mamma and Mimotchka quite wore themselves out over the trousseau. The bridegroom hurried on the wedding, and it was impossible to keep so highly respected a man waiting as if he were a mere boy! Besides, mamma had had too much worry with the first _fiancé_ not to wish to strike while the iron was hot.

The chief things in the trousseau--the linen, furs, and silver--were already there. The princess's coronet only had to be taken off. But some of the dresses had to be altered, and some new ones made besides. In the sixteen months' interval between the two _fiancés_ fashion had made rapid strides. The aunts and uncles consulted together and made Mimotchka fresh presents. And Spiridon Ivanovitch was no niggard in his presents either. Everything went on swimmingly. Mamma exulted. Mimotchka took the arsenic prescribed for her, drank pyro-phosphorous iron water, tried on her new dresses, received congratulations, opened jewel cases and boxes from the leading Petersburg jewellers, and was delighted with the diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds that were sent to her by Spiridon Ivanovitch.

Everybody rejoiced; everybody congratulated her heartily, sincerely, and truly--wished her everything good, and repeated in chorus, "Thank God, thank God!"

VI

And so not only the day, but the hour of the wedding is fixed....

Mimotchka's _coiffure_ is finished. Gustave is sent out of the room while Mimotchka puts on her wedding dress, with its garlands and bouquets of orange blossoms and its long train of thick white _faille_ lined with Lyons satin, a wonderful dress ordered from Mdme. Lesserteur. Mimotchka surveys herself rather anxiously in the looking-glass. The bodice fits exquisitely.

It only remains to pin on the veil and wreath, Monsieur Gustave's services are again in requisition. He has to be hurried. It appears that the best man has already arrived. Yes, yes; he really has come. ... The bridegroom is already in the church.... It's time!

Directly, directly, Mimotchka will be ready directly. I look at her and involuntarily some emotion takes possession of me, involuntarily my thoughts run on, and I see the lit-up church, where the crowd of festively attired relations and friends are chatting and looking about them while they wait for the bride. I see the stout Spiridon Ivanovitch, resplendent with orders, his bald head shining, and wearing a new pair of fringed epaulets. Now there is a movement in the crowd, the talk ceases, all the heads are turned round. From the choir come the strains of a solemn chant, and Mimotchka appears at the threshold of the church. Uncle Theodore, wearing the ribbon of the White Eagle,[9] gives her his arm and leads her up along the soft carpet. How pretty she is! I vow that the orange blossoms and cloud of white tulle never adorned a lovelier and more charming head.

"Approach, approach, thou pure dove." ...[10]

But do you know what you are going to, poor dove? Think, Mimotchka; won't you stop before it is too late?...

Why?... And what is the good of thinking about it? Every one does it. Some time or other the step must be taken. It seems it must. And how can one escape from it?...

[9] One of the highest Russian orders.

[10] The opening words of the hymn sung in the marriage service when the bride enters the church.

But you're pale, Mimotchka; you lower your eyelashes, and the wax taper trembles in your little hand.... Are you afraid? Are you ashamed?

No; only nervous and ill at ease.... In the church it seems cold.... Or does the bodice press?... Something feels strange, unpleasant.... And then how every one stares!...

But my thoughts are wandering. Mimotchka is not yet even in the church. She is still in her room, standing before the large mirror; she cannot tear herself away from the contemplation of herself in her new dress.

Her toilet is finished. The veil and wreath are unusually becoming to the bride, and so everyone tells her; but Mimotchka no longer smiles her usual, unchanging smile. She is a little agitated. On her cheek there is a pink spot, her hand slightly trembles as she draws on her glove. Why does she feel so cold?

All those around her are agitated too. The maid Douniasha makes faces as she gulps down her tears. Lulushka or Turlurette yelps and barks, offended because she is turned off Mimotchka's train. They all surround the bride, looking at her from all sides, arranging her dress, her veil, giving her her gloves, scent....

It's time, Mimotchka, time! Go into the drawing-room now for your mother to bless you before you leave. The bridegroom is already in church.... Make haste; they are waiting for you....

Look round for the last time on your young girl's room, look at your pretty pink room, in which you ate _chocolat mignon_ and read French novels, and bid farewell to it! You will never come back here. What awaits you in the new life?

Mamma blesses Mimotchka, and sheds a few tears as she embraces and kisses her pale daughter. "You don't feel unwell, Mimi?"

"No, no, not at all...."

Mimotchka goes down the stairs. At the entrance on the pavement there already stands a group of curious, gaping spectators: the weeping housemaid Douniasha, the cook, the neighbour's servants, and some outsiders....

Aunt Julia, the little boy who is to carry the icon,[11] and the bride take their places in the carriage. The footman slams the door and jumps up on the box. The carriage fast disappears down the street.

[11] A little boy, generally a relative or the child of an intimate friend, carries an icon in the bridal procession.

Good-bye, Mimotchka, be happy!

You perhaps expected, Mimotchka, that I should follow you to the church, and further and further.... No, there are spectators enough at your wedding without me. Only look at that motley collection of people, whom the police are allowing to crowd on to the broad pavement of the Liteynaia, the whole length of the long line of carriages. Look at the seamstresses, housemaids" gossiping women, young and old, gazing open-mouthed as they go on their way, with bundles or bandboxes in their hands; they have not strength to resist the temptation of stopping to admire your uncle's orders and epaulets, your aunts' light, elegant toilettes, and above all they long to catch a glimpse of you, Mimotchka--you, the chief person in all this pageant.

They are waiting for you.... Do you see how they stand on tiptoe, how they crane their necks at your approach? Perhaps they have heard about you; perhaps one of those old gossips is even now giving the rest the most trustworthy or untrustworthy information about you; perhaps, looking at you, they exchange pitying remarks of the kind of those overheard and caught up from them by the great author of _Anna Karénina._

"Isn't she a sweet pretty bride, decked out like a lamb for the sacrifice! But, say what you like, we women are sorry for our sister!"

MIMOTCHKA AT THE SPRINGS

Mimotchka is getting thin, Mimotchka looks pale, Mimotchka is dull....

Mamma is anxious and fusses; Spiridon Ivanovitch grunts and frowns; baby is tiresome and roars....

Such, in its general features, is Mimotchka's life--and yet it had seemed to begin so well!

Directly after the wedding the young couple went abroad. The doctor had long advised Spiridon Ivanovitch to take a course of waters, and even before meeting his bride he had intended to pass the summer abroad. His unexpected marriage had not changed previous plans, and, having obtained three months' leave, Spiridon Ivanovitch started with his young wife for Vichy.

They travelled with every possible comfort, and Spiridon Ivanovitch was so careful and attentive during the journey, that Mimotchka was obliged to own that it was much nicer and pleasanter travelling with him than with mamma. However, in spite of it all, on their arrival in Paris she was so tired out, and above all so enervated, so enervated, that she cried the whole day long, and even thought she would like to kill herself, because it seemed to her that she cared for nothing in life. Paris was so dark, so gloomy, horrible, and disgusting.... The sun never shone, and the rain poured and poured.... And she cried and cried.... The tears certainly rather troubled Spiridon Ivanovitch, but after all what could he do?... The rain--what rain it was to be sure! But it was God's will.... And he only drummed on the table with his fingers and swore at the servants.

But when the young people arrived at Vichy, where the comfortable rooms, that had been ordered beforehand and had a balcony overlooking the crowded boulevard, were awaiting them, when they had dined both savourily and satisfactorily in these bright, cheerful rooms, and when, above all, they had unpacked their trunks and bags, then again everything looked nice and bright. Mimotchka saw that, in spite of everything, life was still endurable and might even be very pleasant. She wiped away her tears and occupied herself in hanging up her new dresses.

Then they sent for a doctor. And there came a dark-eyed young Frenchman, good-looking and chatty. And how he spoke French--gracious heavens, how he spoke! What a doctor! Everyone, everyone all round, beginning with the grey-haired landlady, and ending with Joseph, the _concierge's_ fourteen-year-old son, every one was so amiable, elegant, attentive, and lively.... It seemed to Mimotchka as if she had come to her native land. The chemist, to whom the young people went, directly after their arrival, for some rhubarb and magnesia, was as like as two peas to the _jeune premier_ of the Théâtre Michel, so that Mimotchka quite blushed when Spiridon Ivanovitch, having got his magnesia, began to inquire of the young man about some further remedies.... And the postman was very like the well-known _coiffeur_ from the Bolshaia Konushenaia....

Spiridon Ivanovitch set about his cure without delay and with great zeal. He liked being doctored and understood all about it. Not satisfied with the punctilious fulfilment of his own doctor's prescriptions, he secretly consulted other doctors, consulted the invalids with whom he made acquaintance at the baths and springs, consulted the chemist and other tradespeople, bought heaps of medical works, pamphlets, and manuals, bought medicinal wines and medicines advertised in the papers, discovered that he had some fresh malady every day, and expounded the symptoms of his illness to his doctor so significantly and with so many details, that the young Frenchman, while listening to him with profound and polite attention, could not help glancing stealthily and with tender commiseration at pretty pale Mimotchka, and twirling the end of his silky moustaches, said to her in a look, "Poor little thing! and so pretty!" ...

Spiridon Ivanovitch decided that Mimotchka should make a cure for anæmia and nerves. Mamma had asked him so much about it! So Mimotchka drank the "source Mesdames" and took baths, and Walked up and down in the park. But, as her cure was less complicated and serious than Spiridon Ivanovitch's cure, she still had a good deal of spare time, which she employed in watching the people and in looking at her new dresses. And as both these occupations were very congenial to her tastes, she was not dull. The season was one of the most successful and most brilliant. At the waters there was Strauss, there was Patti; there was an English royal personage with his wife; there were American millionaires with their daughters, and lots of cocottes and aristocrats besides.... There were no end of stories about and two or three scandals.... The weather was lovely and warm, perhaps even too warm. But what walks there were, what riding parties in the evening on the shores of the Allier, what concerts and dances in the evening at the Casino! Of course Mimotchka did not make any acquaintances--society is so mixed at watering-places!--but still, without knowing anyone, it was amusing to look at other people's toilettes and watch others' intrigues. Altogether she Was very much amused. And in answer to her cousin Zina and her friends, the three sisters Poltavsteff, who asked her if she was happy, Mimotchka wrote: "So happy, so happy.... Jamais je ne me suis tant amusée qu'à Vichy. Figurez-vous ..." and so on.

Time flew on quickly and imperceptibly. Spiridon Ivanovitch's cure was finished. He had got thinner, but felt brisker and healthier. Mimotchka was blooming, and had grown even prettier in the pure air of the South of France. One month's leave yet remained. Spiridon Ivanovitch asked his wife to decide where they should spend this last month--in Italy, Switzerland, or Paris?... Doctor Souly's pamphlet recommends some quiet corner in Switzerland for an after-cure, but Mimotchka preferred Paris. Spiridon Ivanovitch willingly submitted to this decision, and, having liberally paid the landlady, the dark-eyed doctor, and others, the young people packed up their baggage and went back to Paris, where the honeymoon really began. Just at that time Spiridon Ivanovitch received a good round sum from his tenants, and Mimotchka was in a state of perfect bliss, buying right and left everything that took her fancy. Oh, her honeymoon!... They stayed at an expensive and very good hotel. In the morning the general got up first and read the Russian and French newspapers while he drank his coffee, but Mimotchka lay in bed a long time after. Then she got up when she liked, and without hurrying began her toilet. Every day she had a new kind of soap, new kinds of scents, toilet waters and pomatums. And what stockings, boots, and garters she bought herself!... Oh, her honeymoon!...