Part 26 (2/2)

For a long time Marfa Timofeevna looked at her in silence, then she quietly knelt down before her, and began, still quite silently, to kiss her hands--first one, and then the other.

Liza bent forwards and reddened--then she began to cry; but she did not make her aunt rise, nor did she withdraw her hands from her. She felt that she had no right to withdraw them--had no right to prevent the old lady from expressing her sorrow, her sympathy--from asking to be pardoned for what had taken place the day before. And Marfa Timofeevna could not sufficiently kiss those poor, pale, nerveless hands; while silent tears poured down from her eyes and from Liza's too. And the cat, Matros, purred in the large chair by the side of the stocking and the ball of worsted; the long, thin flame of the little lamp feebly wavered in front of the holy picture; and in the next room, just the other side of the door, stood Nastasia Carpovna, and furtively wiped her eyes with a check pocket-handkerchief, rolled up into a sort of ball.

x.x.xVIII.

Down-stairs, meanwhile, the game of preference went on. Maria Dmitrievna was winning, and was in a very good humor. A servant entered and announced Pans.h.i.+ne's arrival. Maria Dmitrievna let fall her cards, and fidgeted in her chair. Varvara Pavlovna looked at her with a half-smile, and then turned her eyes towards the door.

Pans.h.i.+ne appeared in a black dress-coat, b.u.t.toned all the way up, and wearing a high English s.h.i.+rt-collar. ”It was painful for me to obey; but, you see, I have come;” that was what was expressed by his serious face, evidently just shaved for the occasion.

”Why, Valdemar!” exclaimed Maria Dmitrievna, ”you used always to come in without being announced.”

Pans.h.i.+ne made no other reply than a look, and bowed politely to Maria Dmitrievna, but did not kiss her hand. She introduced him to Varvara Pavlovna. He drew back a pace, bowed to her with the same politeness and with an added expression of respectful grace, and then took a seat at the card-table. The game soon came to an end. Pans.h.i.+ne asked after Lizaveta Mikhailovna, and expressed his regret at hearing that she was not quite well. Then he began to converse with Varvara Pavlovna, weighing every word carefully and emphasizing it distinctly in true diplomatic style, and, when she spoke, respectfully hearing her answers to the end. But the seriousness of his diplomatic tone produced no effect upon Varvara Pavlovna, who would have nothing to do with it. On the contrary, she looked him full in the face with a sort of smiling earnestness, and in talking with him seemed thoroughly at her ease, while her delicate nostrils lightly quivered, as though with suppressed laughter.

Maria Dmitrievna began to extol Varvara's cleverness. Pans.h.i.+ne bent his head politely, as far as his s.h.i.+rt-collar permitted him, declared that he had already been convinced of the exceptional nature of her talents, and all but brought round the conversation to the subject of Metternich himself. Varvara Pavlovna half-closed her velvety eyes, and, having said in a low voice, ”But you are an artist also, _un confrere_,” added still lower, ”_Venez_!” and made a sign with her head in the direction of the piano. This single word, ”_Venez_!” so abruptly spoken, utterly changed Pans.h.i.+ne's appearance, as if by magic, in a single moment. His care-worn air disappeared, he began to smile, he became animated, he unb.u.t.toned his coat, and, saying ”I am an artist! Not at all; but you, I hear, are an artist indeed,” he followed Varvara Pavlovna to the piano.

”Tell him to sing the romance, 'How the moon floats,'” exclaimed Maria Dmitrievna.

”You sing?” asked Varvara Pavlovna, looking at him with a bright and rapid glance. ”Sit down there.”

Pans.h.i.+ne began to excuse himself.

”Sit down,” she repeated, tapping the back of the chair in a determined manner.

He sat down, coughed, pulled up his s.h.i.+rt-collar, and sang his romance.

”_Charmant_,” said Varvara Pavlovna. ”You sing admirably--_vous avez du style_. Sing it again.”

She went round to the other side of the piano, and placed herself exactly opposite Pans.h.i.+ne. He repeated his romance, giving a melodramatic variation to his voice. Varvara looked at him steadily, resting her elbows on the piano, with her white hands on a level with her lips. The song ended, ”_Charmant! Charmante idee_,” she said, with the quiet confidence of a connoisseur. ”Tell me, have you written anything for a woman's voice--a mezzo-soprano?”

”I scarcely write anything,” answered Pans.h.i.+ne. ”I do so only now and then--between business hours. But do you sing?”

”Oh yes! do sing us something,” said Maria Dmitrievna.

Varvara Pavlovna tossed her head, and pushed her hair back from her flushed cheeks. Then, addressing Pans.h.i.+ne, she said--

”Our voices ought to go well together. Let us sing a duet. Do you know '_Son geloso_,' or '_La ci darem_,' or '_Mira la bianca luna_?'”

”I used to sing '_Mira la bianca luna_,'” answered Pans.h.i.+ne; but it was a long time ago. I have forgotten it now.”

”Never mind, we will hum it over first by way of experiment. Let me come there.”

Varvara Pavlovna sat down to the piano. Pans.h.i.+ne stood by her side.

They hummed over the duet, Varvara Pavlovna correcting him several times; then they sang it out loud, and afterwards repeated it twice--”_Mira la bianca lu-u-una_.” Varvara's voice had lost its freshness, but she managed it with great skill. At first Pans.h.i.+ne was nervous, and sang rather false, but afterwards he experienced an artistic glow; and, if he did not sing faultlessly, at all events he shrugged his shoulders, swayed his body to and fro, and from time to time lifted his hand aloft, like a genuine vocalist.

Varvara Pavlovna afterwards played two or three little pieces by Thalberg, and coquettishly chanted a French song. Maria Dmitrievna did not know how to express her delight, and several times she felt inclined to send for Liza. Gedeonovsky, too, could not find words worthy of the occasion, and could only shake his head. Suddenly, however, and quite unexpectedly, he yawned, and only just contrived to hide his mouth with his hand.

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