Podgorin smiled at her and the girls and thought it strange that this healthy, young, intelligent woman, essentially such a strong and complex organism, could waste all her energy, all her strength, on such uncomplicated trivial work as running a home which was well managed anyway.
‘Perhaps she knows best,’ he thought. ‘But it’s so boring, so stupid!’
Before he had time to groan
A bear came and knocked him prone,
Sergey Sergeich said, snapping his fingers.
They finished their supper. Tatyana and Varvara made Podgorin sit down on a sofa in the drawing-room and, in hushed voices, talked about business again.
‘We must save Sergey Sergeich,’ Varvara said, ‘it’s our moral duty. He has his weaknesses, he’s not thrifty, he doesn’t put anything away for a rainy day, but that’s only because he’s so kind and generous. He’s just a child, really. Give him a million and within a month there’d be nothing left, he’d have given it all away.’
‘Yes, that’s so true,’ Tatyana said and tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I’ve had a hard time with him, but I must admit he’s a wonderful person.’
Both Tatyana and Varvara couldn’t help indulging in a little cruelty, telling Podgorin reproachfully, ‘Your generation, though, Misha, isn’t up to much!’
‘What’s all this talk about generations?’ Podgorin wondered. ‘Surely Sergey Sergeich’s no more than six years older than me?’
‘Life’s not easy,’ Varvara sighed. ‘You’re always threatened with losses of some kind. First they want to take your estate away from you, or someone near and dear falls ill and you’re afraid he might die. And so it goes on, day after day. But what can one do, my friends? We must submit to a Higher Power without complaining, we must remember that nothing in this world is accidental, everything has its final purpose. Now you, Misha, know little of life, you haven’t suffered much and you’ll laugh at me. Go ahead and laugh, but I’m going to tell you what I think. When I was passing through a stage of deepest anxiety I experienced second sight on several occasions and this completely transformed my outlook. Now I know that nothing is contingent, everything that happens in life is necessary.’
How different this Varvara was, grey-haired now, and corseted, with her fashionable long-sleeved dress – this Varvara twisting a cigarette between long, thin, trembling fingers – this Varvara so prone to mysticism – this Varvara with such a lifeless, monotonous voice. How different she was from Varvara the medical student, that cheerful, boisterous, adventurous girl with the red hair!
‘Where has it all vanished to?’ Podgorin wondered, bored with listening to her. ‘Sing us a song, Va,’ he asked to put a stop to that conversation about second sight. ‘You used to have a lovely voice.’
‘That’s all long ago, Misha.’
‘Well, recite some more Nekrasov.’
‘I’ve forgotten it all. Those lines I recited just now I happened to remember.’
Despite the corset and long sleeves she was obviously short of money and had difficulty making ends meet at that factory beyond Tula. It was obvious she’d been overworking. That heavy, monotonous work, that perpetual interfering with other people’s business and worrying about them – all this had taken its toll and had aged her. As he looked at that sad face whose freshness had faded, Podgorin concluded that in reality it was she who needed help, not Kuzminki or that Sergey Sergeich she was fussing about so much.
Higher education, being a doctor, didn’t seem to have had any effect on the woman in her. Just like Tatyana, she loved weddings, births, christenings, interminable conversations about children. She loved spine-chilling stories with happy endings. In newspapers she only read articles about fires, floods and important ceremonies. She longed for Podgorin to propose to Nadezhda – she would have shed tears of emotion if that were to happen.
He didn’t know whether it was by chance or Varvara’s doing, but Podgorin found himself alone with Nadezhda. However, the mere suspicion that he was being watched, that they wanted something from him, disturbed and inhibited him. In Nadezhda’s company he felt as if they had both been put in a cage together.
‘Let’s go into the garden,’ she said.
They went out – he feeling discontented and annoyed that he didn’t know what to say, she overjoyed, proud to be near him, and obviously delighted that he was going to spend another three days with them. And perhaps she was filled with sweet fancies and hopes. He didn’t know if she loved him, but he did know that she had grown used to him, that she had long been attached to him, that she considered him her teacher, that she was now experiencing the same kind of feelings as her sister Tatyana once had: all she could think of was love, of marrying as soon as possible and having a husband, children, her own place. She had still preserved that readiness for friendship which is usually so strong in children and it was highly probable that she felt for Podgorin and respected him as a friend and that she wasn’t in love with him, but with her dreams of a husband and children.
‘It’s getting dark,’ he said.
‘Yes, the moon rises late now.’
They kept to the same path, near the house. Podgorin didn’t want to go deep into the garden – it was dark there and he would have to take Nadezhda by the arm and stay very close to her. Shadows were moving on the terrace and he felt that Tatyana and Varvara were watching him.
‘I must ask your advice,’ Nadezhda said, stopping. ‘If Kuzminki is sold, Sergey Sergeich will leave and get a job and there’s no doubt that our lives will be completely changed. I shan’t go with my sister, we’ll part, because I don’t want to be a burden on her family. I’ll take a job somewhere in Moscow. I’ll earn some money and help Tatyana and her husband. You will give me some advice, won’t you?’
Quite unaccustomed to any kind of hard work, now she was inspired at the thought of an independent, working life and making plans for the future – this was written all over her face. A life where she would be working and helping others struck her as so beautifully poetic. When he saw that pale face and dark eyebrows so close he remembered what an intelligent, keen pupil she had been, with such fine qualities, a joy to teach. Now she probably wasn’t simply a young lady in search of a husband, but an intelligent, decent girl, gentle and soft-hearted, who could be moulded like wax into anything one wished. In the right surroundings she might become a truly wonderful woman!
‘Well, why don’t I marry her then?’ Podgorin thought. But he immediately took fright at this idea and went off towards the house. Tatyana was sitting at the grand piano in the drawing-room and her playing conjured up bright pictures of the past, when people had played, sung and danced in that room until late at night, with the windows open and birds singing too in the garden and beyond the river. Podgorin cheered up, became playful, danced with Nadezhda and Varvara, and then sang. He was hampered by a corn on one foot and asked if he could wear Sergey Sergeich’s slippers. Strangely, he felt at home, like one of the family, and the thought ‘a typical brother-in-law’ flashed through his mind. His spirits rose even higher. Looking at him the others livened up and grew cheerful, as if they had recaptured their youth. Everyone’s face was radiant with hope: Kuzminki was saved! It was all so very simple in fact. They only had to think of a plan, rummage around in law books, or see that Podgorin married Nadezhda. And that little romance was going well, by all appearances. Pink, happy, her eyes brimming with tears in anticipation of something quite out of the ordinary, Nadezhda whirled round in the dance and her white dress billowed, revealing her small pretty legs in flesh-coloured stockings. Absolutely delighted, Varvara took Podgorin’s arm and told him quietly and meaningly, ‘Misha, don’t run away from happiness. Grasp it while you can. If you wait too long you’ll be running when it’s too late to catch it.’