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forced to blush and turn away.

In short, it was a terrible trial to me to have anything to do with him.

XVIII. THE MAIDSERVANTS' ROOM

I BEGAN to feel more and more lonely, until my chief solace lay in

solitary reflection and observation. Of the favourite subject of

my reflections I shall speak in the next chapter. The scene where I

indulged in them was, for preference, the maidservants' room, where

a plot suitable for a novel was in progress--a plot which touched and

engrossed me to the highest degree. The heroine of the romance was, of

course, Masha. She was in love with Basil, who had known her before she

had become a servant in our house, and who had promised to marry her

some day. Unfortunately, fate, which had separated them five years ago,

and afterwards reunited them in Grandmamma's abode, next proceeded to

interpose an obstacle between them in the shape of Masha's uncle, our

man Nicola, who would not hear of his niece marrying that "uneducated

and unbearable fellow," as he called Basil. One effect of the obstacle

had been to make the otherwise slightly cool and indifferent Basil fall

as passionately in love with Masha as it is possible for a man to be

who is only a servant and a tailor, wears a red shirt, and has his hair

pomaded. Although his methods of expressing his affection were odd (for

instance, whenever he met Masha he always endeavoured to inflict upon

her some bodily pain, either by pinching her, giving her a slap with his

open hand, or squeezing her so hard that she could scarcely breathe),

that affection was sincere enough, and he proved it by the fact that,

from the moment when Nicola refused him his niece's hand, his grief led

him to drinking, and to frequenting taverns, until he proved so

unruly that more than once he had to be sent to undergo a humiliating

chastisement at the police-station.

Nevertheless, these faults of his and their consequences only served to

elevate him in Masha's eyes, and to increase her love for him. Whenever

he was in the hands of the police, she would sit crying the whole day,

and complain to Gasha of her hard fate (Gasha played an active part

in the affairs of these unfortunate lovers). Then, regardless of her

uncle's anger and blows, she would stealthily make her way to the

police-station, there to visit and console her swain.

Excuse me, reader, for introducing you to such company. Nevertheless, if

the cords of love and compassion have not wholly snapped in your soul,

you will find, even in that maidservants' room, something which may

cause them to vibrate again.

So, whether you please to follow me or not, I will return to the alcove

on the staircase whence I was able to observe all that passed in that

room. From my post I could see the stove-couch, with, upon it, an iron,

an old cap-stand with its peg bent crooked, a wash-tub, and a basin.

There, too, was the window, with, in fine disorder before it, a piece

of black wax, some fragments of silk, a half-eaten cucumber, a box of

sweets, and so on. There, too, was the large table at which SHE used

to sit in the pink cotton dress which I admired so much and the

blue handkerchief which always caught my attention so. She would be

sewing-though interrupting her work at intervals to scratch her head

a little, to bite the end of her thread, or to snuff the candle--and I

would think to myself: "Why was she not born a lady--she with her blue

eyes, beautiful fair hair, and magnificent bust? How splendid she would

look if she were sitting in a drawing-room and dressed in a cap with

pink ribbons and a silk gown--not one like Mimi's, but one like the gown

which I saw the other day on the Tverski Boulevard!" Yes, she would work

at the embroidery-frame, and I would sit and look at her in the mirror,

and be ready to do whatsoever she wanted--to help her on with her mantle

or to hand her food. As for Basil's drunken face and horrid figure in

the scanty coat with the red shirt showing beneath it, well, in his

every gesture, in his every movement of his back, I seemed always to see

signs of the humiliating chastisements which he had undergone.

"Ah, Basil! AGAIN?" cried Masha on one occasion as she stuck her needle

into the pincushion, but without looking up at the person who was

entering.

"What is the good of a man like HIM?" was Basil's first remark.

"Yes. If only he would say something DECISIVE! But I am powerless in the

matter--I am all at odds and ends, and through his fault, too."

"Will you have some tea?" put in Madesha (another servant).

"No, thank you.--But why does he hate me so, that old thief of an uncle

of yours? Why? Is it because of the clothes I wear, or of my height,

or of my walk, or what? Well, damn and confound him!" finished Basil,

snapping his fingers.

"We must be patient," said Masha, threading her needle.

"You are so--"

"It is my nerves that won't stand it, that's all."

At this moment the door of Grandmamma's room banged, and Gasha's angry

voice could be heard as she came up the stairs.

"There!" she muttered with a gesture of her hands. "Try to please people

when even they themselves do not know what they want, and it is a cursed

life--sheer hard labour, and nothing else! If only a certain thing would

happen!--though God forgive me for thinking it!"

"Good evening, Agatha Michaelovna," said Basil, rising to greet her.

"You here?" she answered brusquely as she stared at him, "That is not

very much to your credit. What do you come here for? Is the maids' room

a proper place for men?"

"I wanted to see how you were," said Basil soothingly.

"I shall soon be breathing my last--THAT'S how I am!" cried Gasha, still

greatly incensed.

Basil laughed.

"Oh, there's nothing to laugh at when I say that I shall soon be dead.

But that's how it will be, all the same. Just look at the drunkard!

Marry her, would he? The fool! Come, get out of here!" and, with a stamp

of her foot on the floor, Gasha retreated to her own room, and banged

the door behind her until the window rattled again. For a while she

could be heard scolding at everything, flinging dresses and other things

about, and pulling the ears of her favourite cat. Then the door opened

again, and puss, mewing pitifully, was flung forth by the tail.

"I had better come another time for tea," said Basil in a whisper--"at

some better time for our meeting."

"No, no!" put in Madesha. "I'll go and fetch the urn at once."

"I mean to put an end to things soon," went on Basil, seating himself

beside Masha as soon as ever Madesha had left the room. "I had much

better go straight to the Countess, and say 'so-and-so' or I will throw

up my situation and go off into the world. Oh dear, oh dear!"

"And am I to remain here?"

"Ah, there's the difficulty--that's what I feel so badly about, You have

been my sweetheart so long, you see. Ah, dear me!"

"Why don't you bring me your shirts to wash, Basil?" asked Masha after a

pause, during which she had been inspecting his wrist-bands.

At this moment Grandmamma's bell rang, and Gasha issued from her room

again.

"What do you want with her, you impudent fellow?" she cried as she