Part 6

But suddenly, amidst this ill-favoured, nondescript crowd, there came into the room, from the town entrance, an elegantly dressed man of about thirty-five, whose appearance attracted general attention. He was followed by an enormous black retriever and a porter carrying a handsome portmanteau and a railway rug strapped up and fastened with beautiful new straps. The young man came to the table at which Vava and Mimotchka were seated, carelessly paid the porter, carelessly ordered something to eat for himself and something for his dog of the insinuating waiter, sat down to the table, and, without dropping his eyeglass, rapidly glanced at Vava and Mimotchka, then took off his eyeglass and again, but this time more fixedly and attentively, looked at Mimotchka.

She had never expected to meet such a fine gentleman in that stuffy, dingy waiting-room, amongst all those deformities, and was sorry that she had not taken more pains to freshen and beautify herself. Vava began, openly and rather loudly, admiring the dog, while Mimotchka examined the dog's master's pale face, with its beautiful dark eyes, and all the details of his perfect toilet.

Mamma, who had been rushing about settling Katia, came back, panting from the heat and fatigue, and sat down by the side of them. Breakfast was brought to the ladies; Mimotchka unwillingly put up her veil: she thought she must be looking awful; but she was mistaken, and of this she was at once assured by a glance from the black eyes that rested so admiringly on her. Mimotchka felt more cheerful than she had for a long time, and from that moment her journey appeared to her in a perfectly different light. It was certainly rather a bore, but still it was something fresh, and a change from the monotonous, everyday Petersburg life.

Mamma began talking, and so he learned that her name Was Mimotchka, and that she was going to the Caucasus. And he? Where is he going? Perhaps also to the springs?... He is pale, and something in his look at the corners of his mouth tells of weariness, if not of suffering.... And he is thin, his cheeks are even rather sunken.... Poor fellow, he is ill too, he also suffers.... And he is so handsome, so handsome.... And what eyes! His breakfast was now also brought to him and he began eating, while Mimotchka, secretly continued her observations. Everything about him--his way of eating and sitting, and the way his hair was done, and his dress--showed a man belonging to good society.

Meanwhile Vava had already stroked the dog and was about to give him half her chicken, but mamma looked at her so imploringly, that she sent away the dog and assumed her most decorous and sedate expression. The Newfoundland, turning about round her, and offended at her sudden indifference, went up to the pug and tried to make acquaintance. But when Monitchka awoke and saw such a monster near her, she was horribly frightened, trembled all over her little body, and began to growl and bark furiously. The young man called off the Newfoundland, and the ladies found out that the dog's name was Rex. Then they all went on with their breakfast; but Mimotchka felt as if something had brought her nearer to the young man--very likely the fact of their sharing the same table, the same outspread tablecloth, on which stood a plate of bread and a decanter of water also for them both in common, or else because they were both so young, so handsome and elegant, and so different from all the countrified landowners and dishevelled, tumbled--looking provincials, with their cigarettes in their mouths, who surrounded them. They breakfasted, and their eyes often met and said something to each other. He had large, dark eyes; she had eyes like a Madonna.

Mimotchka got brighter and brighter. The fatigue and slight headache, the clinking of glasses, the scraping of feet, and the talk of the motley crowd, all this was something new, the beginning of something.... And the time till the departure of the train flew by imperceptibly.

The ladies took their places in the ladies' compartment, and he got into the next carriage, so that Mimotchka had only to look out at the window to see him also looking out of his window.

And now again the train flies on, flies through the green steppes with their many-coloured spring flowers. In the ladies' compartment, besides our ladies, there was a lady from Moscow, with whom mamma at once made acquaintance. The lady, although she came from Moscow, knew half Petersburg, and mamma and she soon found that they had many friends and even relations in common. The lady had been in the Caucasus and was able to give mamma a great deal of valuable information about hotels, lodgings, laundresses, &c. And mamma, in her turn, told her all about Mimotchka's illness, about her fainting fits and sleeplessness, while the Moscow lady, glancing at Mimotchka, who was now looking quite rosy and bright, and laughing and chattering like a child with Vava, did not know whether mamma was making fun of her or not.

At every station _he_ got out and walked up and down in front of their carriage, looking at Mimotchka, who either gazed at the sky or the station. And how this shortened the journey! Now he had taken off his hat and wore a travelling cap, which suited him even better. Vava soon noticed his ways and said to Mimotchka--

"The Adonis seems to be airing himself for your benefit. What stupid shoes he wears!"

Mimotchka took his part, saying that the shoes were all right, and that she had seen some just like them worn by a French actor at his benefit; very likely they were the fashion....

When the evening drew near Vava went off to her favourite post at the open window to see the sunset.... And standing there, watching the rosy and lilac clouds changing their shape with every moment, and the wide, green steppe, Vava felt arise within her a feeling which often took possession of her, a flood of love towards God and man. She would have liked to enfold the whole world, the whole of mankind, in her embrace as brothers and give them light and warmth; she longed to do great deeds, to sacrifice herself, to accomplish some good work, not narrow, like that beaten track with the rails laid down, but wide, unlimited, boundless as the steppe, as the heavens, as the sea, as joy, even as love itself!... The pale young moon already detached itself against the darkening sky. The sun had disappeared. With its setting the steppe had changed and was now covered with floating shadows. The world of spirits, the world of dreams awoke. Vava watched the young moon and called to mind the books about spiritualism she had lately read. Is there any truth in it or not? How do souls live after they are separated from their bodies? Where are they? Why and how do they live? Do they see us? Do they pity us? Do our sufferings seem so small to them? Life and death.... How many mysteries, how many enigmas there are in nature! Is there anyone who knows everything, everything, or even a great deal, like Goethe's Faust did? And is it well to know so much, to understand everything, to see everything, to find the key to all mysteries, or is it better to be as she is and not know anything, but to feel a sense of happiness due only to her youth, to her heart overflowing with love, to the beauty of the steppe and the young moon?...

Mamma and the lady from Moscow went on talking incessantly. They could not quite recollect who Mdme. Verevkine's daughter by her first marriage, the one who had been previously engaged to Mestchersky, the brother-in-law of a mutual lady friend of theirs, had married.... Mimotchka did not remember either.... And Vava did not know.... Then mamma began enumerating to the lady all the things she was taking with her. Mamma was of the opinion that if you went abroad you need take very little with you, because abroad you could get everything everywhere. But in Russia, and especially in the provinces, it was impossible to get anything anywhere; so that you had to set out well provided. Mimotchka sat at the open window, looked at the young moon, and also indulged in dreams. Who could _he_ be? Who is he? Whereto and wherefore is he travelling? She had noticed that he wore a wedding-ring.[11] Why does he look at her so? Has she taken his fancy?... How? By her beauty? But she has so gone off lately. Still she looks interesting to-day. She saw her reflection in the glass opposite and was astonished at herself. There is something in the expression of her eyes and about her complexion that beautifies her. Well, so much the better. Let him walk up and down if he likes, she will not prevent him. She does not respond to his glances, only perhaps very slightly and quite involuntarily. Anyhow there is no harm in it.... Where can he be going? And who is he? And Mimotchka gazed at the new moon, and the sparks flew past her like a golden rain, and the wind played with her fair curls. Mamma wanted to put up the window, but Mimotchka said it was too early yet and would be stuffy in the carriage.

[11] Russian married men wear wedding-rings as well as women.

It was quite dark, and Vava, mamma, and the lady from Moscow were already asleep when Mimotchka put her head out of the window for the last time. The station was like all the other stations. A little two-storied wooden house, with a bell attached to it, and with lit-up windows, from which, behind the pots of geraniums and balsams, the station-master's untidy wife in a pink cotton dress looked out. The flickering light of the lamp lit up the dark platform, on which the motionless figures of the peasants stood staring stupidly at the train; the gendarme also stood motionless; the guard went past the carriage. Some one greeted the station-master. Ah, there he is! He isn't asleep yet. He again passed close to the carriage in which Mimotchka was seated, and this time he came so near and looked into her eyes so expressively that Mimotchka got frightened and pulled up the window. And the train sped along further. Mimotchka lay down to sleep, but she was disturbed and felt dissatisfied with herself, with him, and with everybody. Why did he look at her in that manner? It was impertinent.... How could he dare to? what did he take her for? She admitted /that she herself was perhaps rather to blame; but why shouldn't she amuse herself a little on the journey? Of course in Petersburg she would never have allowed herself to do anything of the kind. How he looked at her, how he looked at her, to be sure! But anyhow he had beautiful eyes! She thought she had never seen such eyes. Well, now, enough of him--better forget all about him. Nobody will ever be the wiser, and he does not know who she is. To-morrow they will go off in different directions, and perhaps never see each other again.... It's time to go to sleep.

And Mimotchka turned the cushion and covered herself over with the wrapper. But the sofa was uncomfortable, and the carriage felt stuffy and smelt of smoke and coal. In vain she sniffed at her _sel de vinaigre_ and counted out some drops of valerian--she only fell asleep when the carriage blinds began to whiten with the coming dawn.

And now at last the long journey is over. Vava is already gazing at the mountains, which the lady from Moscow names to her: Beshtau, Razvalka, and Jeleznaia.

The guard collects the tickets. The hand-baggage is strapped up. Mimotchka yawns; she has slept badly, and is not in good spirits. She feels as if she would like to die. The train stops at the station of the Mineral Waters, Which is buried in a garden full of white acacias.

Good heavens, what a lot of passengers are getting out here! Will there be carriages enough? And how sweet the white acacia smells! What a sky! What fresh, pure air! Mamma hastily bids good-bye to the lady from Moscow, who is going on further, and loads three porters with the hand-baggage. Vava tries to make herself useful, finds Katia, and looks after the things; Mimotchka envelops herself in a thick veil and goes into the ladies' room. She feels very out of sorts, and still thinks she would like to die. She is aching all over, and tears of weakness almost choke her. She is rather ashamed of yesterday's exchange of glances. Only think, a son age, dans sa position!... And besides, who knows who and what he is? She really had not seen him thoroughly well. It was all the darkness and her imagination. Perhaps he had been boasting in the carriage, although he has really nothing to boast about. And after all she does not care! And Mimotchka, without turning her head, crosses the room where the people are sitting and drinking tea; but even without looking she sees that he is differently dressed. And how pale he looks; he is really not nearly as handsome as she had thought yesterday.... Of course it was all owing to the darkness and her imagination.

A carriage is found and brought up, the things are put in it, and the ladies and Katia take their places inside.

"All right, drive on!"

The carriage rolls on through the green steppe and over the soft country road. In the heavens the larks are carolling. Other carriages overtake our ladies. Here is the lady with the shaking head and there is the boy with the St. Vitus's dance.... And here, passing all the others, another carriage flies along, in which _he_ is seated, _he_ "l'homme au chien," as Mimotchka calls him. He is wearing another hat, the third since yesterday, and at his feet, stretched out full length, lies the beautiful Newfoundland dog.

They follow him and then turn to the right. Why? Then they will not be together, they won't meet? Then their acquaintance has really come to an end? Where is he going? Mimotchka will not on any account inquire. Perhaps mamma will help her. Precisely so; mamma asks the driver:

"Where does that road lead to?"

"To Piatigorsk."

"Then we shall not pass by Piatigorsk?"

"And Jeleznovodsk--is it yet in sight?" asks Vava.

"There it is."

And the driver points with his whip to a little white hamlet nestling at the foot of the green mountain.

Presently the carriage enters a green grove of oaks and birch-trees. They all inhale the pure morning air delightedly. Vava throws back her head and looks for the larks in the sky....

Mamma sympathises with her; mamma also loves nature, loves forests and groves. Mimotchka doesn't understand it. She only likes trees round where the music plays, and then only when they stand in tubs and are kept in nice order, and no spiders, chrysalides, or other nasty things fall off them. At length, after passing the post-office, the carriage stops at the entrance of Mitroff's Hotel. Thank God, they have arrived!

"What a funny little place Jeleznovodsk is!" says Mimotchka. "Quite a country village!"

Three weeks have passed. Mimotchka had not felt dull. Mimotchka had improved in looks and was blooming. One day followed another in accordance with the regular, fixed _régime._ At seven o'clock Mimotchka and Vava got up, and at eight they were already at the morning music, where they drank the waters and walked up and down till breakfast-time. Afterwards a bath, then middle-day dinner, and again waters and more walking up and down, and again music and waters and walking up and down, and so on until the evening, when they went to bed tired out and slept like dead men.

Doctor Variashski, who had arrived at Jeleznovodsk a couple of days before them, met them very amiably; he recommended them apartments, he found them a man-cook, and he also recommended them a doctor for Vava, a specialist for nervous illnesses. He advised Mimotchka to ride on horseback, and offered to accompany her himself on her rides.

And all this was the more agreeable to mamma, because she believed in Variashski as firmly as she did in the Almighty!

And how conscientiously Mimotchka followed out her cure! Mamma watched it so strictly, that if at the spring they accidentally poured out a little more than half a tumbler of water for Mimotchka, she made them throw it all away and fill it up again.... As if it were possible to allow it! If you made a cure you must do it properly. The waters were not to be trifled with....

And this conscientious cure greatly benefited Mimotchka. She had a pretty colour in her cheeks and her eyes shone brighter and more joyfully.... She did not get tired so soon, and both slept and ate better.

From the second evening after their arrival our ladies showed themselves daily at the music, where they at once attracted attention by the elegance of their toilettes and general appearance. Mamma found the society dreadful. The ladies looked like bakers' or farmers' wives, and the men were even worse. There was hardly any one from Petersburg, and nobody at all whom they knew. At first mamma only exchanged salutes with Variashski and an old maiden lady from Petersburg, who was there for the third summer with her brother, who had lost the use of his legs. The old maid felt quite at home, and seemed to think herself superior to everyone, for she held herself very proudly. She knew all the doctors, their wives, their histories, and their gossip.... And although in mamma's eyes the doctors' wives were as bad as the bakers' and farmers' wives, still she examined them with some interest through her eyeglass while listening to Mdlle. Kossovitch's tales.

Vava sat stiffly and obediently by mamma's side, but still kept a lookout for Washington and William Tell, in case they should be passing among the crowd, and, not finding them, amused herself Watching the games of the children playing in the circle round them.

Mimotchka smiled up at Doctor Variashski while she looked out for _him,_ l'homme au chien. But he was not there.

He only showed himself at the music two weeks after their arrival, when Mimotchka had already left off expecting him and had almost forgotten him. And he appeared in the society of the most dreadful ladies. Beside the bakers' wives and the doctors' wives and all the other provincials, there were also actresses at the springs. There was almost the entire company from the Kieff theatre. Among the actresses there was a certain Mdlle. Lenskaia, a very pretty light comedy actress, and with her her sister, who was not an actress, but who was also decidedly pretty. Both sisters were always showily dressed, and wore very light colours; they were always very lively and always surrounded by men. Every new arrival at Jeleznovodsk followed in their train for the first few days, but afterwards, when he had settled down and looked about, he generally found other acquaintances and hardly even bowed to the sisters; but still as there were fresh arrivals every day, they were never left without cavaliers. Well, it was with them that he appeared at the music. He was giving his arm to the eldest Lenskaia (not the actress), who was smiling more gaily than ever and showing her beautiful white teeth. They were followed by the younger Lenskaia and an actress named Morozoff, surrounded by a crowd of young men. In front of them all walked Rex. His master was again quite differently dressed, and wore a light suit and a hat with a white veil round it, but there was still the same _cachet_ of elegance about him. Vava called the dog loudly by its name, which made _him_ look round and recognise the ladies. But he only glanced at them rapidly and then immediately began whispering something to his companion. Then the whole party seated themselves in a semi-circle close by Mimotchka, to whom it was extremely unpleasant.

What sort of a man could he be to find pleasure in such society?... From the very first Mimotchka had thought Mdlle. Lenskaia's sister perfectly disgusting. She is pretty, certainly; but what a creature!... And what horrid-looking eyes she has--so watery and with ugly, dark circles round them. And her hands are not good. And how vulgarly she dresses! what a mixture of colours! And Rex lies at her feet, and she strokes his head with her ungloved hand, and laughs and beams with pleasure because _he_ is evidently saying something flattering, amiable, and agreeable to her.

Mimotchka felt hurt. She was sitting there alone near mamma and Mdlle. Kossovitch, who went on talking. Vava had gone off with a new acquaintance to her gymnastics. Variashski was not at the music; nor were there any officers of her husband's division there. And she had to sit alone and look at the mountains she was so tired of and at that improper set of people.

That evening she returned home in very low spirits; she even felt ready to cry. No doubt she had over-walked herself that day, or else it was the "reaction."

By the morning, however, her vexation had passed. It even seemed to her ridiculous to have so taken to heart the indifference of a man who was a perfect stranger to her. She doesn't want anyone. Is she looking out for an admirer? Good gracious, if she only liked, ... why she could have the whole division at her feet, and not only officers either, but others besides. Isn't she pretty? At any rate she is as good-looking as those actresses in their many-coloured dresses.

And what does she care about them? what does it all matter to her? She has come here for her cure. She likes being here alone without Spiridon Ivanovitch and without baby. She feels as if she were a girl again, a free, young creature. She knows that her toilettes are the best here, and that she herself is prettier than anyone. She can read it in the glances of the men and women she meets.... And that is all she requires.

She continued to drink the water conscientiously, occupied herself with her toilettes and her appearance, and when she met him (he had now settled at Jeleznovodsk) she looked at him with no more interest than if he were a lamp-post. But, without paying the least attention to him, she always saw how he was dressed, who he was with, what humour he was in, and how he looked at her....