The Diary of a Superfluous Man, and Other Stories

Olga turned deadly pale; her limbs gave way beneath her.

"Don't be frightened, don't be frightened," – Vasíly kept repeating: – "rely on me; I will not forsake thee … I will arrange everything … trust in me."

The poor woman gazed at him with love … yes, with love, and with profound, though hopeless devotion.

"I will arrange everything, everything," – said Vasíly to her at parting … and for the last time kissed her ice-cold hands.

Olga Ivánovna had just risen from her bed on the following morning, when her door opened … and Anna Pávlovna made her appearance on the threshold. She was supported by Vasíly. Silently she made her way to an arm-chair, and silently seated herself. Vasíly stood beside her. He seemed composed; his brows were contracted, and his lips were slightly parted. Anna Pávlovna, pale, indignant, wrathful, tried to speak, but her voice failed her. Olga Ivánovna with terror, took in, in a single glance, her benefactress and her lover; she felt a frightful sinking at the heart … with a shriek she fell down on her knees in the middle of the room and covered her face with her hands…

"So it is true … it is true?" whispered Anna Pávlovna, and bent toward her… "Answer!" – she went on harshly, seizing Olga by the arm.

"Mamma!" rang out Vasíly's brazen voice, – "you promised me not to insult her."

"I won't … come, confess … confess … is it true? Is it true?"

"Mamma … remember!.." said Vasíly, slowly.

That one word shook Anna Pávlovna violently. She leaned against the back of her chair, and fell to sobbing.

Olga Ivánovna softly raised her head and attempted to fling herself at the old woman's feet, but Vasíly restrained her, raised her up, and seated her in another arm-chair. Anna Pávlovna continued to weep and whisper incoherent words…

"Listen, mamma," – began Vasíly. "Don't be so overwhelmed! This calamity can still be alleviated… If Rogatchyóff …"

Olga Ivánovna shuddered and straightened herself up.

"If Rogatchyóff," – pursued Vasíly, with a significant glance at Olga Ivánovna, – "has imagined that he can with impunity disgrace an honourable family …"

Olga Ivánovna was terrified.

"In my house," – moaned Anna Pávlovna.

"Calm yourself, mamma. He has taken advantage of her inexperience, of her youth, he … did you wish to say something?" – he added, perceiving that Olga was trying to get at him.

Olga Ivánovna fell back in her chair.

"I shall go at once to Rogatchyóff. I shall force him to wed her this very day. Be assured, I shall not permit him to jeer at us…"

"But … Vasíly Ivánovitch … you …" whispered Olga.

He stared long and coldly at her. She relapsed into silence.

"Mamma, give me your word not to disturb her until my arrival. See – she is barely alive. Yes, and you require rest yourself. Trust to me: I answer for everything; in any case, await my return. I repeat to you – do not kill her, nor yourself – rely upon me."

He walked to the door, and paused.

"Mamma," – he said: "come with me. Leave her alone, I beg of you."

Anna Pávlovna rose, went to the holy picture, made a reverence to the floor, and softly followed her son. Olga Ivánovna followed her silently and immovably with her eyes. Vasíly hastily came back, seized her hand, whispered in her ear: "Trust to me, and do not betray us," – and immediately withdrew…

"Boursier!" he shouted, as he ran swiftly down the stairs. – "Boursier!"

A quarter of an hour later he was seated in his calash with his servant.

Old Rogatchyóff was not at home that day. He had gone to the county town, to buy seersucker for kaftans to clothe his retainers. Pável Afanásievitch was sitting in his study, and inspecting a collection of faded butterflies. Elevating his eyebrows, and thrusting forth his lips, he was cautiously turning about with a pin the large wings of the "nocturnal sphinx," when suddenly, he felt a small but heavy hand on his shoulder. He glanced round – before him stood Vasíly.

"Good morning, Vasíly Ivánovitch," – said he, not without some surprise.

Vasíly looked at him and sat down in front of him on a chair.

Pável Afanásievitch was about to smile … but glanced at Vasíly, relaxed, opened his mouth, and clasped his hands.

"Come, tell me, Pável Afanásievitch," – began Vasíly, suddenly: – "do you intend to have the wedding soon?"

"I?.. soon … of course… I, so far as I am concerned … however, that is as you and your sister choose… I, for my part, am ready to-morrow, if you like."

"Very good, very good. You are a very impatient man, Pável Afanásievitch."

"How so, sir?"

"Listen," – added Vasíly Ivánovitch, rising to his feet: – "I know everything; you understand me, and I order you to marry Olga without delay, to-morrow."

"But excuse me, excuse me," – returned Rogatchyóff, without rising from his seat; – "you order me? I myself have sought the hand of Olga Ivánovna, and there is no need to order me. I must confess, Vasíly Ivánovitch, somehow, I don't understand you…"

"Thou dost not understand?"

"No, really, I don't understand, sir."

"Wilt thou give me thy word to marry her to-morrow?"

"Why, good gracious, Vasíly Ivánovitch … have n't you yourself repeatedly postponed our marriage? If it had not been for you, it would have taken place long ago. And even now I have no idea of refusing. But what is the meaning of your threats, of your urgent demands?"

Pável Afanásievitch wiped the perspiration from his face.

"Wilt thou give me thy word? Speak! Yes, or no?" – repeated Vasíly with pauses between his words.

"Certainly … I give it, sir, but …"

"Good. Remember… And she has confessed everything."

"Who has confessed?"

"Olga Ivánovna."

"But what has she confessed?"

"Why do you dissimulate with me, Pável Afanásievitch? Surely, I 'm not a stranger to you."

"How am I dissimulating? I don't understand you, I don't understand you, positively I don't understand you. What could Olga Ivánovna confess?"