The Jew and Other Stories eBook

Lutchkov and Kister remained at Mr. Perekatov’s till the evening.  Something new and unknown was passing in Masha’s soul; a dreamy perplexity was reflected more than once in her face.  She moved somehow more slowly, she did not flush on meeting her mother’s eyes—­on the contrary, she seemed to seek them, as though she would question her.  During the whole evening, Lutchkov paid her a sort of awkward attention; but even this awkwardness gratified her innocent vanity.  When they had both taken leave, with a promise to come again in a few days, she quietly went off to her own room, and for a long while, as it were, in bewilderment she looked about her.  Nenila Makarievna came to her, kissed and embraced her as usual.  Masha opened her lips, tried to say something—­and did not utter a word.  She wanted to confess—–­she did not know what.  Her soul was gently wandering in dreams.  On the little table by her bedside the flower Lutchkov had picked lay in water in a clean glass.  Masha, already in bed, sat up cautiously, leaned on her elbow, and her maiden lips softly touched the fresh white petals....

‘Well,’ Kister questioned his friend next day, ’do you like the Perekatovs?  Was I right? eh?  Tell me.’

Lutchkov did not answer.

‘No, do tell me, do tell me!’

‘Really, I don’t know.’

‘Nonsense, come now!’

‘That... what’s her name...  Mashenka’s all right; not bad-looking.’

‘There, you see...’ said Kister—­and he said no more.

Five days later Lutchkov of his own accord suggested that they should call on the Perekatovs.

Alone he would not have gone to see them; in Fyodor Fedoritch’s absence he would have had to keep up a conversation, and that he could not do, and as far as possible avoided.

On the second visit of the two friends, Masha was much more at her ease.  She was by now secretly glad that she had not disturbed her mamma by an uninvited avowal.  Before dinner, Avdey had offered to try a young horse, not yet broken in, and, in spite of its frantic rearing, he mastered it completely.  In the evening he thawed, and fell into joking and laughing—­and though he soon pulled himself up, yet he had succeeded in making a momentary unpleasant impression on Masha.  She could not yet be sure herself what the feeling exactly was that Lutchkov excited in her, but everything she did not like in him she set down to the influence of misfortune, of loneliness.

V

The friends began to pay frequent visits to the Perekatovs’.  Kister’s position became more and more painful.  He did not regret his action... no, but he desired at least to cut short the time of his trial.  His devotion to Masha increased daily; she too felt warmly towards him; but to be nothing more than a go-between, a confidant, a friend even—­it’s a dreary, thankless business!  Coldly idealistic people talk a great deal about the sacredness of suffering,