persons who had been companions from childhood, there existed between
Woloda and Katenka a relation which differentiated them from us, and
united them mysteriously to one another.
XXI. KATENKA AND LUBOTSHKA
Katenka was now sixteen years old--quite a grown-up girl; and although
at that age the angular figures, the bashfulness, and the gaucherie
peculiar to girls passing from childhood to youth usually replace the
comely freshness and graceful, half-developed bloom of childhood, she
had in no way altered. Still the blue eyes with their merry glance were
hers, the well-shaped nose with firm nostrils and almost forming a line
with the forehead, the little mouth with its charming smile, the dimples
in the rosy cheeks, and the small white hands. To her, the epithet of
"girl," pure and simple, was pre-eminently applicable, for in her the
only new features were a new and "young-lady-like" arrangement of her
thick flaxen hair and a youthful bosom--the latter an addition which at
once caused her great joy and made her very bashful.
Although Lubotshka and she had grown up together and received the same
education, they were totally unlike one another. Lubotshka was not tall,
and the rickets from which she had suffered had shaped her feet in goose
fashion and made her figure very bad. The only pretty feature in her
face was her eyes, which were indeed wonderful, being large and black,
and instinct with such an extremely pleasing expression of mingled
gravity and naivete that she was bound to attract attention. In
everything she was simple and natural, so that, whereas Katenka always
looked as though she were trying to be like some one else, Lubotshka
looked people straight in the face, and sometimes fixed them so long
with her splendid black eyes that she got blamed for doing what was
thought to be improper. Katenka, on the contrary, always cast her
eyelids down, blinked, and pretended that she was short-sighted, though
I knew very well that her sight was excellent. Lubotshka hated being
shown off before strangers, and when a visitor offered to kiss her she
invariably grew cross, and said that she hated "affection"; whereas,
when strangers were present, Katenka was always particularly endearing
to Mimi, and loved to walk about the room arm in arm with another girl.
Likewise, though Lubotshka was a terrible giggler, and sometimes ran
about the room in convulsions of gesticulating laughter, Katenka always
covered her mouth with her hands or her pocket-handkerchief when she
wanted to laugh. Lubotshka, again, loved to have grown-up men to talk
to, and said that some day she meant to marry a hussar, but Katenka
always pretended that all men were horrid, and that she never meant to
marry any one of them, while as soon as a male visitor addressed her she
changed completely, as though she were nervous of something. Likewise,
Lubotshka was continually at loggerheads with Mimi because the latter
wanted her to have her stays so tight that she could not breathe or eat
or drink in comfort, while Katenka, on the contrary, would often insert
her finger into her waistband to show how loose it was, and always ate
very little. Lubotshka liked to draw heads; Katenka only flowers and
butterflies. The former could play Field's concertos and Beethoven's
sonatas excellently, whereas the latter indulged in variations and
waltzes, retarded the time, and used the pedals continuously--not to
mention the fact that, before she began, she invariably struck three
chords in arpeggio.
Nevertheless, in those days I thought Katenka much the grander person of
the two, and liked her the best.
XXII. PAPA
Papa had been in a particularly good humour ever since Woloda had passed
into the University, and came much oftener to dine with Grandmamma.
However, I knew from Nicola that he had won a great deal lately.
Occasionally, he would come and sit with us in the evening before going
to the club. He used to sit down to the piano and bid us group ourselves
around him, after which he would beat time with his thin boots (he
detested heels, and never wore them), and make us sing gipsy songs. At
such times you should have seen the quaint enthusiasm of his beloved
Lubotshka, who adored him!
Sometimes, again, he would come to the schoolroom and listen with a
grave face as I said my lessons; yet by the few words which he would let
drop when correcting me, I could see that he knew even less about the
subject than I did. Not infrequently, too, he would wink at us and make
secret signs when Grandmamma was beginning to scold us and find fault
with us all round. "So much for us children!" he would say. On
the whole, however, the impossible pinnacle upon which my childish
imagination had placed him had undergone a certain abasement. I still
kissed his large white hand with a certain feeling of love and respect,
but I also allowed myself to think about him and to criticise his
behaviour until involuntarily thoughts occurred to me which alarmed me
by their presence. Never shall I forget one incident in particular which
awakened thoughts of this kind, and caused me intense astonishment. Late
one evening, he entered the drawing-room in his black dress-coat and
white waistcoat, to take Woloda (who was still dressing in his bedroom)
to a ball. Grandmamma was also in her bedroom, but had given orders
that, before setting out, Woloda was to come and say goodbye to her (it
was her invariable custom to inspect him before he went to a ball, and
to bless him and direct him as to his behaviour). The room where we were
was lighted by a solitary lamp. Mimi and Katenka were walking up
and down, and Lubotshka was playing Field's Second Concerto (Mamma's
favourite piece) at the piano. Never was there such a family likeness as
between Mamma and my sister--not so much in the face or the stature as
in the hands, the walk, the voice, the favourite expressions, and,
above all, the way of playing the piano and the whole demeanour at the
instrument. Lubotshka always arranged her dress when sitting down just
as Mamma had done, as well as turned the leaves like her, tapped her
fingers angrily and said "Dear me!" whenever a difficult passage did not
go smoothly, and, in particular, played with the delicacy and exquisite
purity of touch which in those days caused the execution of Field's
music to be known characteristically as "jeu perle" and to lie beyond
comparison with the humbug of our modern virtuosi.
Papa entered the room with short, soft steps, and approached Lubotshka.
On seeing him she stopped playing.
"No, go on, Luba, go on," he said as he forced her to sit down again.
She went on playing, while Papa, his head on his hand, sat near her for
a while. Then suddenly he gave his shoulders a shrug, and, rising, began
to pace the room. Every time that he approached the piano he halted
for a moment and looked fixedly at Lubotshka. By his walk and his
every movement, I could see that he was greatly agitated. Once, when he
stopped behind Lubotshka, he kissed her black hair, and then, wheeling
quickly round, resumed his pacing. The piece finished, Lubotshka went up
to him and said, "Was it well played?" whereupon, without answering, he
took her head in his two hands, and kissed her forehead and eyes with
such tenderness as I had never before seen him display.