But he had already clasped her in his arms!…
He picked her up and, lifting her as though she were a child, carried her to his chair, sat her down and fell to his knees in front of her. He kissed her hands, her feet; he could not stop, could not stop feasting his eyes on her as if to confirm that she really was back with him, for him to gaze at and listen to – his daughter, his Natasha! Anna Andreyevna, tears streaming down her face, flung her arms round Natasha and, pressing her daughter’s head against her bosom, remained perfectly still in this embrace, incapable of uttering a single word.
“My darling!… My love!… My joy!…” Ikhmenev rambled with excitement as he held Natasha’s hand and, like a lover, gazed into her pale, thin, but delightful face and into her eyes, which were glistening with tears. “My joy, my child!” he repeated at intervals, gazing at her in unrestrained rapture. “What, what is it I heard about her having gone thin?” he said turning to us with a fleeting, almost childlike smile, still kneeling before her. “She’s thin all right, pale too, but just look how pretty! Even better than she was before, yes, better!” he added, coming to an involuntary halt under the weight of his emotions – joyful and sad, enough to rend the heart.
“Stand up, father! Please stand up,” Natasha said, “I too want to kiss you…”
“Oh my darling! Did you hear that, did you, Anna? How well she put it,” and he put an arm around her convulsively.
“No, Natasha, I have to lie at your feet now till my heart tells me you’ve forgiven me, because I no longer deserve your forgiveness! I rejected and damned you, did you hear that, Natasha, I damned you – and that I could have done it!… And you, you, Natasha – how could you believe that I cursed you? You did, didn’t you? You shouldn’t have! You simply shouldn’t have believed it! You cruel thing! Why didn’t you come to me? You knew you’d be welcome!… Oh, Natasha, don’t you remember how I loved you before – and now, all this time I have loved you twice, a thousand times as much! I loved you with all my heart and soul! I’d have sacrificed my heart for you, I’d have torn it out bleeding and laid it at your feet!… Oh my joy.”
“Why don’t you kiss me then, you cruel man, on my lips, on my face, like Mother kisses me?” Natasha exclaimed in an unsteady, weak voice suffused with tears of joy.
“And on your dear eyes too! Your dear eyes! Remember, like in days gone by,” Ikhmenev went on, releasing his daughter from a long and ardent embrace. “Oh, Natasha! Did you ever dream of us! I dreamt of you nearly every night, and you came to me every night, and I cried over you, and once, when you were still small, remember, you came to me – you were only ten at the time and just starting to learn the piano – you came in a short dress, with your pretty little shoes and rosy arms – she had such rosy little arms then, do you remember, Anna, dear? – she came, sat on my knees and put her arms around me… And you, you, you wicked little girl! You could imagine that I had cursed you, that I wouldn’t have you back if you came to me?… You know, I… listen, Natasha – I often used to go to you – Mother didn’t know about it, no one knew. Sometimes I’d stand under your windows, or wait for hours on end somewhere on the pavement at your house gate in the hope of catching a glimpse of you from the distance when you came out! And in the evening you often had a candle burning in the window. Natasha, the number of times I came just to look at that candle of yours, just to see your shadow in the window and to bless you for the night. And did you give me your blessing for the night? Did you spare me a thought? Did your little heart tell you I was there at your window? And in the winter nights the number of times I used to mount your stairs and stand on the dark landing, listening at your door for the sound of your voice, your laughter! Me, curse you? Do you realize, I went to you the other evening to tell you I forgave you, and only turned back at your door… Oh, Natasha!”
He stood up, lifted her out of the chair a little and hugged her to his chest with all his strength.
“She is here again, next to my heart!” he exclaimed. “I thank you, oh God, for everything, everything, for your wrath and for your mercy!… For your sun too, which has now cast its light on us after the storm! I thank you for this moment of joy! No matter that we are humiliated, no matter that we are insulted, but we are together again – and let, let the proud and the arrogant people who have humiliated and insulted us gloat over their triumph! Let them cast stones at us! Have no fear, Natasha… We shall go hand in hand, and I shall say to them, ‘This is my dearly beloved daughter, my daughter without sin whom you have humiliated and insulted, but whom I love and bless for ever and ever!…’”
“Vanya! Vanya!…” Natasha said in a weak voice, reaching out towards me from her father’s embrace.
Oh! Never shall I forget that she thought of me and called out to me at that moment.
“But where’s Nelly?” Ikhmenev asked, looking around.
“Oh my, where is she indeed?” Anna Andreyevna exclaimed. “My poppet! That we should have just left her!”
But she was not in the room; she had slipped into the bedroom unnoticed. Everyone went there. Nelly was standing in the corner, behind the door, hiding from us in alarm.
“Nelly, what’s wrong, my dear child!” Ikhmenev exclaimed, wishing to put his arm around her. But she only gave him an odd, sidelong glance.
“Mummy, where’s Mummy?” she mouthed inconsolably. “Where, where’s my mummy?” she called out once more, stretching out her trembling arms towards us, and suddenly a terrifying cry broke from her breast; her features distorted convulsively and she fell to the floor in a terrible fit…