THE COMPLETE WORKS OF FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY. Федор Достоевский
told her Masloboev’s name, and said that it was by his help I got her away from Mme. Bubnov’s, and that Mme. Bubnov was very much afraid of him. Her cheeks suddenly flushed fiery red, probably at the recollection of the past.
“And she will never come here?” asked Elena, with a searching look at me.
I made haste to reassure her. She remained silent, and was taking my hand in her burning fingers, but she dropped it again at once as though recollecting herself.
“It cannot be that she really feels such an aversion for me,” I thought. “It’s her manner, or else … or else the poor little thing has had so much trouble that she mistrusts everyone.”
At the hour fixed I went out to fetch the medicine, and at the same time went into a restaurant where they knew me and gave me credit. I took a pot with me, and brought back some chicken broth for Elena. But she would not eat, and the soup remained for the time on the stove.
I gave her her medicine and sat down to my work. I though she was asleep, but chancing to look round at her I saw that she had raised her head, and was intently watching me write. I pretended not to notice her.
At last she really did fall asleep, and to my great delight she slept quietly without delirium or moaning. I fell into a reverie Natasha, not knowing what was the matter, might well be angry with me for not coming to-day, would be sure, indeed, I reflected to be hurt at my neglect, just when, perhaps, she needed me most.
She might at this moment have special worries, perhaps some service to ask of me, and I was staying away as though expressly.
As for Anna Andreyevna, I was completely at a loss as to how I should excuse myself to her next day. I thought it over and suddenly made up my mind to run round to both of them. I should only be absent about two hours. Elena was asleep and would not hear me go out. I jumped up, took my coat and cap but just as I was going out Elena called me. I was surprised. Could she have been pretending to be asleep?
I may remark in parenthesis that, though Elena made a show of not wanting to speak to me, these rather frequent appeals this desire to apply to me in every difficulty, showed a contrary feeling, and I confess it really pleased me.
“Where do you mean to send me?” she asked when I went up to her.
She generally asked her questions all of a sudden, when I did not expect them. This time I did not take in her meaning at first.
“You were telling your friend just now that you meant to place me in some household. I don’t want to go.”
I bent down to her; she was hot all over, another attack of fever had come on. I began trying to soothe and pacify her assuring her that if she cared to remain with me I would not send her away anywhere. Saying this, I took off my coat and cap I could not bring myself to leave her alone in such a condition.
“No, go,” she said, realizing at once that I was meaning to stay. “I’m sleepy; I shall go to sleep directly.”
“But how will you get on alone?” I said, uncertainly. “Though I’d be sure to be back in two hours’ time….”
“Well, go then. Suppose I’m ill for a whole year, you can’t stay at home all the time.”
And she tried to smile, and looked strangely at me as though struggling with some kindly feeling stirring in her heart. Poor little thing! Her gentle, tender heart showed itself in glimpses in spite of her aloofness and evident mistrust.
First I ran round to Anna Andreyevna. She was waiting for me with feverish impatience and she greeted me with reproaches; she was in terrible anxiety. Nikolay Sergeyitch had gone out immediately after dinner, and she did not know where. I had a presentiment that she had not been able to resist telling him everything in hints, of course, as she always did. She practically admitted it herself, telling me that she could not resist sharing such joyful tidings with him, but that Nikolay Sergeyitch had become, to use her expression, “blacker than night, that he had said nothing. He wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t even answer my questions, and suddenly after dinner had got ready and gone out.”
When she told me this Anna Andreyevna was almost trembling with dismay, and besought me to stay with her until Nikolay Sergeyitch came back. I excused myself and told her almost flatly that perhaps I should not come next day either, and that I had really hurried to her now to tell her so; this time we almost quarrelled. She shed tears, reproached me harshly and bitterly, and only when I was just going out at the door she suddenly threw herself on my neck, held me tight in both arms and told me not to be angry with a lonely creature like her, and not to resent her words.
Contrary to my expectations, I found Natasha again alone. And, strange to say, it seemed to me that she was by no means so pleased to see me as she had been the day before and on other occasions; as though I were in the way or somehow annoying her. When I asked whether Alyosha had been there that day she answered:
“Of course he has, but he didn’t stay long. He promised to look in this evening,” she went on, hesitating.
And yesterday evening, was he here?”
“N-no. He was detained,” she added quickly. “Well, Vanya, how are things going with you?”
I saw that she wanted to stave off our conversation and begin a fresh subject. I looked at her more intently. She was evidently upset. But noticing that I was glancing at her and watching her closely, she looked at me rapidly and, as it were, wrathfully and with such intensity that her eyes seemed to blaze at me. “She is miserable again,” I thought, “but she doesn’t want to speak to me about it.”
In answer to her question about my work I told her the whole story of Elena in full detail. She was extremely interested and even impressed by my story.
“Good heavens! And you could leave her alone, and ill! she cried.
I told her that I had meant not to come at all that day, but that I was afraid she would be angry with me and that she might be in need of me.
“Need,” she said to herself as though pondering. “Perhaps I do need you, Vanya, but that had better be another time. Have you been to my people?”
I told her.
“Yes, God only knows how my father will take the news. Though what is there to take after all? …”
“What is there to take?” I repeated. “A transformation like this!”
“I don’t know about that…. Where can he have gone again? That time before, you thought he was coming to me. Do you know, Vanya, come to me tomorrow if you can. I shall tell you something perhaps…. Only I’m ashamed to trouble you. But now you’d better be going home to your visitor. I expect it’s two hours since you came out.”
“Yes, it is. Goodbye, Natasha. Well, and how was Alyosha with you to-day?”
“Oh, Alyosha. All right…. I wonder at your curiosity.”
“Goodbye for now, my friend.”
“Goodbye.”
She gave me her hand carelessly and turned away from my last, farewell look. I went out somewhat surprised. “She has plenty to think about, though,” I thought. “It’s no jesting matter. Tomorrow she’ll be the first to tell me all about it.”
I went home sorrowful, and was dreadfully shocked as soon as I opened the door. By now it was dark. I could make out Elena sitting on the sofa, her head sunk on her breast as though plunged in deep thought. She didn’t even glance at me. She seemed lost to everything. I went up to her. She was muttering something to herself. “Isn’t she delirious?” I thought.
“Elena, my, dear, what’s the matter?” I asked, sitting beside her and putting my arm round her.
“I want to go away…. I’d better go to her,” she said, not raising her head to look at me.
“Where? To whom?” I asked in surprise.
“To her. To Bubnov.