The young Spartan’s legs shook under him when
Mihalevitch conducted him into the rather shabbily
furnished drawing-room of the Korobyins, and presented
him to them. But his overwhelming feeling of timidity
soon disappeared. In the general the good-nature
innate in all Russians was intensified by that special
kind of geniality which is peculiar to all people
who have done something disgraceful; the general’s
lady was as it were overlooked by every one; and as
for Varvara Pavlovna, she was so self-possessed and
easily cordial that every one at once felt at home
in her presence; besides, about all her fascinating
person, her smiling eyes, her faultlessly sloping
shoulders and rosy-tinged white hands, her light and
yet languid movements, the very sound of her voice,
slow and sweet, there was an impalpable, subtle charm,
like a faint perfume, voluptuous, tender, soft, though
still modest, something which is hard to translate
into words, but which moved and kindled—and
timidity! was not the feeing it kindled. Lavretsky
turned the conversation on the theater, on the performance
of the previous day; she at once began herself to
discuss Motchalov, and did not confine herself to sighs
and interjections only, but uttered a few true observations
full of feminine insight in regard to his acting.
Mihalevitch spoke about music; she sat down without
ceremony to the piano, and very correctly played some
of Chopin’s mazurkas, which were then just coming
into fashion. Dinner-time came; Lavretsky would
have gone away, but they made him stay: at dinner
the general regaled him with excellent Lafitte, which
the general’s lackey hurried off in a street-sledge
to Dupre’s to fetch. Late in the evening
Lavretsky returned home; for a long while he sat without
undressing, covering his eyes with his hands in the
stupefaction of enchantment. It seemed to him
that now for the first time he understood what made
life worth living; all his previous assumptions, all
his plans, all that rubbish and nonsense had vanished
into nothing! at once; all his soul was absorbed in
one feeling, in one desire—in the desire
of happiness, of possession, of love, the sweet love
of a woman. From that day he began to go often
to the Korobyins. Six months later he spoke to
Varvara Pavlovna, and offered her his hand. His
offer was accepted; the general had long before, almost
on the eve of Lavretsky’s first visit, inquired
of Mihalevitch how many serfs Lavretsky owned; and
indeed Varvara Pavlovna, who through the whole time
of the young man’s courtship, and even at the
very moment of his declaration, had preserved her
customary composure and clearness of mind—Varvara
Pavlovna too was very well aware that her suitor was
a wealthy man; and Kalliopa Karlovna thought “meine
Tochter macht eine schone Partie,” and bought
herself a new cap.
Chapter XV
Copyrights
A House of Gentlefolk from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.