I got up very early. All through the night I kept waking up almost every half-hour to approach my poor visitor and look at her carefully. She had a fever and was slightly delirious. But towards the morning she fell into a deep sleep. A good sign, I thought, but having woken up in the morning, I decided, while the poor child was still asleep, to fetch the doctor. I knew one, a good-natured old bachelor, who had from time immemorial been living with his German housekeeper on Vladimirsky Square. It was to him that I went. He promised to be at my place by ten o’clock. It was eight when I arrived at his house. I was dying to drop in on Masloboyev’s on the way but I thought better of it. He would probably still be asleep after the day before, and besides, Yelena could easily wake up and take fright on finding herself alone in my room. In her feverish state she might well not remember how she got there.
She woke just as I was entering the room. I approached her and enquired gently how she was feeling. She did not reply, but looked at me long and intently with her dark, expressive eyes. The look in her eyes told me that she probably understood and recollected everything. She did not answer, perhaps from habit. Yesterday, just like the day she came to see me, she would not say a single word in response to a number of my questions, but would merely fix me with a long, stubborn gaze, in which, together with consternation and wild curiosity, there was some kind of a strange expression of pride. Now I noticed a hardness in her look and, it seemed, even mistrust. I put my hand on her forehead to feel if she had a fever, but without a word and in complete silence, she brushed it aside with her own thin hand and turned away from me to face the wall. I drew away so as not to disturb her.
I had a large brass tea kettle. I had been using it from way back instead of a samovar and to boil water in. The caretaker kept me stocked up with firewood, delivering at least a five days’ supply at a time. I lit a fire in the stove, fetched some water and put the kettle on. On the table I arranged my tea service. Yelena turned towards me and kept watching everything with curiosity. I asked if she wanted anything. But she again turned away from me without a word.
“Why should she be angry with me?” I thought. “Strange girl.”
My old doctor arrived as promised at ten o’clock. He examined the patient with his wonted German thoroughness and reassured me enormously by saying that though there was some feverishness, she was in no imminent danger. He added that she was probably suffering from another, chronic condition, something like an irregular heartbeat, but that that would require detailed investigation, whereas for the time being she was out of danger. He prescribed a mixture and some kind of powders, more as a matter of form than necessity, and immediately began to question how she came to be with me. At the same time he kept looking round my room with great bemusement. The old fellow was an awful chatterbox.
Yelena, however, astonished him; she withdrew her hand from his when he was checking her pulse and didn’t want to show him her tongue. She wouldn’t answer any of his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on his enormous Cross of the St Stanislas Order* that dangled about his neck.
“She probably has a bad headache,” the old man observed. “Have you noticed the way she looks?”
I didn’t think it necessary to tell him about Yelena and got out of it by saying it was a long story.
“Contact me if necessary,” he said as he was leaving. “As for now there’s no danger.”
I decided to stay with Yelena the whole of that day and, as far as possible, not to leave her on her own until she had fully recovered. But knowing that Natasha and Anna Andreyevna might get anxious as they waited for me in vain, I decided to contact at least Natasha by post, to say I wasn’t coming that day. I couldn’t very well write to Anna Andreyevna. She had strictly asked me not to do so after I had on one occasion posted her a message during Natasha’s illness. “Nikolai Sergeich frets every time he sees a letter from you,” she said to me. “He’s dying, bless him, to know what’s in it, but can’t bring himself to ask. Just moans and groans all day long. Besides, a letter would only make me crave for more. What’s the good of a dozen or so lines! I get the urge to go into details, and what with you not being around!…” That was why I wrote only to Natasha and posted the letter on my way to the chemist’s with the prescription.
In the meantime Yelena had fallen asleep again. In her sleep she occasionally groaned and shuddered a little. The doctor was right – she had a severe headache. Sometimes she would utter a stifled cry and wake up. Every now and again she cast me a pained look as though my attention was particularly burdensome to her. I have to admit this hurt me very much.
At eleven o’clock Masloboyev arrived. He was preoccupied and somehow distracted; he dropped in only for a minute and was in a great hurry.
“Well, my dear fellow, I knew you wouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury,” he remarked, looking around, “but honestly I didn’t expect to find you in such a shoebox. You call this a room! Well, that’s as may be, but the main trouble is all these incidental matters only keep you away from your work. I was thinking about this just yesterday on our way to Bubnova’s. You see, old fellow, by nature and by social position I belong to the class of people who themselves contribute nothing useful, but lecture others that they should. Now listen – I might drop in on you tomorrow or the day after; and as for you, be sure you come to see me Sunday morning. By that time I’m hoping everything will be settled with this little girl here. While we’re at it, I’ll have a good chat with you, because the time’s come for you to be taken in hand seriously. You can’t go on living like this. I only mentioned it yesterday, now I’m going to spell it out. And tell me another thing: what’s so bad about you borrowing some money from me for a time?…”
“Steady on!” I interrupted him. “You’d better tell me instead how it all ended there yesterday.”
“Nothing much to tell, it ended in a most civil fashion, mission accomplished, you understand? But I must be off. I only dropped in for a minute to inform you that I’m pressed for time and have more important fish to fry. And incidentally, are you going to place her somewhere or keep her with you? That needs to be thought through and settled.”
“I’m not sure yet, and as matter of fact I was going to ask for your advice. For instance, I wonder on what basis would I keep her at my place?”
“Heh, that’s easy, as a servant girl if you like…”
“Please keep your voice down. She may be ill, but she’s fully alert, and when she saw you, I noticed she appeared to shudder. She seems to remember what happened yesterday…”
Here I told him about her character and everything that I had observed about her. Masloboyev listened with interest. I added that I might place her with some people I knew, and I told him a little about the old couple. To my surprise, he already knew Natasha’s story in part, and when I questioned him replied, “I heard about it some time ago in connection with another case. I did tell you, I knew Prince Valkovsky, didn’t I? It’s good you’re thinking of packing her off to the old people. Else she’d only be in your way. One other thing – she’ll need some papers. Don’t worry about that – leave it to me. Bye, come and see me soon. What is she doing, is she asleep?”
“Looks like it,” I replied.
But no sooner had he left than Yelena called me.
“Who was that?” she asked. Her voice shook, but she still regarded me with the same intent and somehow supercilious gaze. That’s the only way I can put it.
I mentioned Masloboyev’s name and added that it was precisely because of him that we had managed to get her out of Bubnova’s clutches, and that Bubnova was very afraid of him. Her cheeks suddenly flushed crimson, probably as her memories flooded back.
“And she is never going to come here, is she?” Yelena asked, looking at me inquisitively.
I hastened to reassure her. She went silent, took my hand in her burning little fingers, but cast it aside immediately, as though shocked at what she had done. “Was she really so repelled by me?” I thought to myself. “It’s just her way, or… or the poor child has seen so much grief, she no longer trusts anyone in the world.”
At the appointed hour I went to get the medicine, and at the same time called in at a hostelry I knew, where I occasionally used to have my meals and was allowed credit. Before I left home I took a saucepan with me and bought a portion of chicken broth for Yelena. But she didn’t want to eat and the soup was left standing in the oven.
Having given her the medicine, I sat down to work. I thought she had fallen asleep, but when I happened to glance in her direction, I suddenly noticed that she had raised her head and was watching me intently as I wrote. I pretended I hadn’t noticed her.
Finally she fell fast asleep – and, to my extreme delight, calmly, without thrashing about or groaning. I was plunged into thought; Natasha, not knowing what had happened, might not only be angry with me for not visiting her today, but would most likely be upset at my neglecting her, especially at a time when she probably needed me most. She might easily have got into some difficulties, or have some matter for me to attend to, and I was simply not at hand.
As regards Anna Andreyevna, I had no idea how I would justify myself to her the next day. I thought and thought and suddenly decided to go and see them both. In all I was likely to be away two hours at the most. As for Yelena, she was asleep and wouldn’t hear me go. I jumped to my feet, slung my coat on, took my cap, but just as I was about to leave, Yelena suddenly called me. I was astonished – had she only been pretending to be asleep?
Incidentally, I might add that, though Yelena was apparently reluctant to speak to me, these fairly frequent attempts to catch my attention, this need to turn to me with all her problems, were proof enough to the contrary and, I must admit, I found this rather gratifying.
“Where do you want to send me?” she asked, as I approached her. She had a habit of asking me questions straight out, for which I was quite unprepared. On this occasion it took me quite a while to realize what she meant.
“Just now you were telling your visitor you wanted to place me with some people. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
I leant across to her – she was all hot and flushed again; she seemed to be once more in a critical state. I began to comfort and console her; I assured her that if she wanted to stay with me, I’d never send her anywhere. While saying this, I took off my cap and coat. I was not prepared to leave her on her own in that condition.
“No, you must go!” she said, realizing immediately that I had decided to stay. “I’m sleepy. I’ll soon fall asleep.”
“But how are you going to manage on your own?…” I said anxiously. “Of course, I should be back in a couple of hours or so…”
“Well, off you go then. If I was to be ill for a whole year, you wouldn’t want to be stuck indoors for a whole year, would you?” and she made as if to smile and looked somehow oddly at me, as though struggling to call forth some emotion of gratitude from the bottom of her heart. The poor thing! Her gentle, loving nature was all too evident, in spite of all her unsociability and apparent animosity.
First I dashed over to Anna Andreyevna’s. She had been waiting for me in feverish excitement and greeted me with a host of reprimands, which only served to emphasize her own state of utmost agitation. Nikolai Sergeich had left the house straight after dinner, but where to – no one knew. I had a feeling the old lady had not been able to resist and had told him everything – but, as was her wont, by innuendo. In fact, she admitted as much to me, saying she’d been unable to resist sharing with him such happy tidings, but that Nikolai Sergeich, to quote her own words, “went as dark as a storm cloud, wouldn’t say a thing, not even to reply to my questions, and after dinner suddenly got ready and was off…” While recounting this, Anna Andreyevna was fairly shaking with fright and implored me to stay with her and wait for Nikolai Sergeich to return. I managed to extricate myself from such a commitment and told her, almost sharply, that I might not even come the next day, and as a matter of fact that was precisely what I had popped in to warn her about. On this occasion it nearly came to a quarrel between us. She burst into tears, said some very harsh and bitter words to me, and it was not until I was just about to leave that she flung her arms around my neck, hugged me tightly, begged me not to be too hard on her – “orphan” woman that she was – and not take offence at what she had said.
Contrary to expectation, I found Natasha on her own again, and – strange to say – on this occasion it seemed she was not at all as pleased to see me as she had been the day before – or, for that matter, at other times. It was as though I had done her a bad turn or upset her plans. In answer to my question whether Alyosha had been to see her, she replied that of course he had, but not for long. “He promised to come tonight,” she added, as though as an afterthought.
“And what about last night?”
“N-no. He got held up,” she added hastily. “Well then, Vanya, how are things with you?”
I could see she was anxious to drop the subject and talk about something else. I took a good look at her; she was clearly upset. However, noticing that I was watching her closely and with interest, she cast me a sudden and, it seemed, angry glance, fairly scolding me with her eyes. “She’s wretched again,” I thought, “only she doesn’t want to tell me about it.”
In reply to her question about how things were with me, I told her Yelena’s story in every detail. She found it fascinating and was somewhat surprised.
“My God! How could you leave her on her own in her state!” she exclaimed.
I explained that I had a mind not to come to her at all that day, but thought she would have been be angry with me if I hadn’t, and that there might just be something that needed doing.
“Something that needed doing?” she repeated to herself, turning something over in her mind. “It just so happens there is, Vanya, but best some other time. Have you seen my parents?”
I told her everything.
“Yes. God only knows how father will take all this news. Anyway, what’s all the fuss?…”
“Fuss?” I asked. “With such a turn of events!”
“Come, come… so where could he have gone this time? Previously you all thought he’d gone to see me. Look, Vanya, if you can make it, pop in to see me tomorrow. It’s just possible I will have something to tell you… Only I’m embarrassed to keep bothering you. As for now, why don’t you go home to your young friend? It must surely be about two hours since you left the house.”
“You’re right. Goodbye, Natasha. Well, and what did Alyosha have to say for himself today?”
“Not Alyosha again! Nothing much… I wonder you should even ask.”
“Au revoir, my darling.”
“Goodbye.” She shook my hand somewhat casually and averted her face to avoid the farewell eye contact with me. I left her place somewhat puzzled. “On second thoughts,” I argued, “she’s got enough on her mind. It’s no laughing matter. Come tomorrow, though, she’ll be the first to tell me everything.”
I returned home in low spirits and, as I opened the door, was overcome with astonishment. It was already dark. I could make out that Yelena was sitting on the settee, her head hung down on her chest as though lost in deep thought. She didn’t even look up at me, as though in a brown study. I approached her; she was whispering something to herself. “Is she raving?” the thought crossed my mind.
“Yelena, my darling girl, what’s the matter with you?” I asked, sitting down beside her and putting my arm around her.
“I don’t want to stay here… I’d rather go to her,” she said without raising her head.
“Where? To whom?” I asked in surprise.
“To her, to Bubnova. She keeps saying I owe her loads of money and that she buried Mummy at her own expense… I don’t want her to blame Mummy, I want to work at her place and pay her everything back… Then I’ll go and leave her myself. But now I’m going back to her again.”
“Calm down, Yelena, you can’t go to her,” I said. “She’ll torture you to death. She’ll finish you off…”
“Let her, let her torture me,” Yelena echoed with ardour. “I shan’t be the first. Others who are better than me haven’t got it any easier. That’s what a beggar woman in the street told me once. I’m poor and I want to stay poor. I’ll be poor all my life – that’s how my mother wanted it when she was dying. I’ll work… I don’t want to wear this dress…”
“I’ll buy you a different one tomorrow, first thing. I’ll get you your books too. You’ll stay with me. I shan’t let anyone take you away, unless you yourself decide to go. Calm down…”
“I’ll go and get a job.”
“All right, all right! Just settle down, lie down, have a little nap!”
But the poor girl burst into tears. Little by little her tears turned to sobbing. I didn’t know what to do with her; I kept bringing her water, mopping her brow and head… Finally she collapsed on the settee in complete exhaustion, and was again overcome by a feverish fit of shaking. I tucked her in whatever came to hand, and she fell into a restless sleep, constantly tossing and turning and waking up with a start. Though I hadn’t walked much at all that day, I was nevertheless terribly tired and decided to lie down myself as early as possible. My head was buzzing with cares and worries. I had a feeling I would have lots of problems with this girl. But what worried me most was Natasha and her circumstances. As I recall now, I had rarely been so depressed in spirits as when falling asleep that hapless night.