Part 50 (2/2)
”Jennie.”
”Yes, yes, thank you! I recall it now. She died? But from what?”
”She hanged herself ... yesterday morning, during the doctor's inspection...”
The eyes of the artiste, so listless, seemingly faded, suddenly opened, and, as through a miracle, grew animated and became s.h.i.+ning and green, just like her emeralds; and in them were reflected curiosity, fear and aversion.
”Oh, my G.o.d! Such a dear, so original, handsome, so fiery ... Oh, the poor, poor soul! ... And the reason for this was? ...”
”You know ... the disease. She told you.”
”Yes, yes ... I remember, I remember ... But to hang one's self! ...
What horror! ... Why, I advised her to treat herself then. Medicine works miracles now. I myself know several people who absolutely ...
well, absolutely cured themselves. Everybody in society knows this and receives them ... Ah, the poor little thing, the poor little thing! ...”
”And so I've come to you, Ellena Victorovna. I wouldn't have dared to disturb you, but I seem to be in a forest, and have no one to turn to.
You were so kind then, so touchingly attentive, so tender to us ... I need only your advice and, perhaps, a little of your influence, your protection...”
”Oh, please, my dear! ... All I can do, I will ... Oh, my poor head!
And then this horrible news. Tell me, in what way can I be of a.s.sistance to you?”
”To confess, I don't know even myself yet,” answered Tamara. ”You see, they carried her away to an anatomical theatre ... But until they had made the protocol, until they made the journey--then the time for receiving had gone by also--in general I think that they have not had a chance to dissect her yet ... I'd like, if it's only possible, that she should not be touched. To-day is Sunday; perhaps they'll postpone it until to-morrow, and in the meanwhile something may be done for her...”
”I can't tell you, dear ... Wait! ... Haven't I some friend among the professors, in the medical world? ... I will look later in my memo-books. Perhaps we will succeed in doing something.”
”Besides that,” continued Tamara, ”I want to bury her ... At my expense ... I was attached to her with all my heart during her life.”
”I will help you with pleasure in this, materially...”
”No, no! ... A thousand thanks! ... I'll do everything myself. I would not hesitate to have recourse to your kind heart, but this ... --you will understand me-- ... this is something in the nature of a vow, that a person gives to one's self and to the memory of a friend. The main difficulty is in how we may manage to bury her with Christian rites.
She was, it seems, an unbeliever, or believed altogether poorly. And it's only by chance that I, also, will cross my forehead. But I don't want them to bury her just like a dog, somewhere beyond the enclosure of the cemetery; in silence, without words, without singing ... I don't know, will they permit burying her properly--with choristers, with priests? For that reason I'm asking you to a.s.sist me with your advice.
Or, perhaps, you will direct me somewhere? ...”
Now the artiste had little by little become interested and was already beginning to forget about her fatigue, and migraine, and the consumptive heroine dying in the fourth act. She was already picturing the role of an intercessor, the beautiful figure of genius merciful to a fallen woman. This was original, extravagant, and at the same time so theatrically touching! Rovinskaya, like many of her confreres, did not let one day pa.s.s by--and, if it were possible, she would not have let pa.s.s even one hour--without standing out from the crowd, without compelling people to talk about her: to-day she would partic.i.p.ate in a pseudo-patriotic manifestation, while to-morrow she would read from a platform, for the benefit of revolutionaries exiled to Siberia, inciting verses, full of fire and vengeance. She loved to sell flowers at carnivals, in riding academies; and to sell champagne at large b.a.l.l.s. She would think up her little bon mots beforehand, which on the morrow would be caught up by the whole town. She desired that everywhere and always the crowd should look only at her, repeat her name, love her Egyptian, green eyes, her rapacious and sensuous mouth; her emeralds on the slender and nervous hands.
”I can't grasp it all properly at once,” said she after a silence. ”But if a person wants anything hard, he will attain it, and I want to fulfill your wish with all my soul. Stay, stay! ... I think a glorious thought is coming into my head ... For then, on that evening, if I mistake not, there was with us, beside the baroness and me...”
”I don't know them ... One of them walked out of the cabinet later than all of you. He kissed Jennie's hand and said, that if she should ever need him, he was always at her service; and gave her his card, but asked her not to show it to any strangers. But later all this pa.s.sed off somehow and was forgotten. In some way I never found the time to ask Jennie who this man was; while yesterday I searched for the card but couldn't find it...”
”Allow me, allow me! ... I have recalled it!” the artiste suddenly became animated. ”Aha!” exclaimed she, rapidly getting off the ottoman.
”It was Ryazanov... Yes, yes, yes... The advocate Ernst Andreievich Ryazanov. We will arrange everything right away. That's a splendid thought!”
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