It was after nine o’clock when we arrived in Mishino. The village was small and poor and lay in a kind of hole about three versts off the main road. Six or seven smoke-blackened huts, leaning crazily and barely covered with grimy thatching, greeted all arrivals with sullen enmity. For a quarter of a verst around not a green bush nor patch of garden was to be seen. A solitary willow drooped sleepily over a greenish puddle which passed for a pond. Such a new home was hardly likely to put Tatyana Ivanovna in a cheerful mood.

  The master’s abode was a newly erected long, narrow, hastily thatched log hut with six windows in a row. The former clerk turned landowner was just beginning to set himself up in the running of his estate. The courtyard had not yet been fenced off, although work had been started at one end of the house on a wattle fence to which shrivelled walnut leaves still clung. Close by stood Obnoskin’s tarantass. Our arrival came like a bolt out of the blue for the runaways. Cries and the sound of weeping issued from an open window.

  In the hallway, we encountered a barefooted boy who swung around and darted away from us like a shot. In the very first room we entered we saw Tatyana Ivanovna seated on a long chintz-upholstered divan, her eyes stained with tears. On seeing us she cried out and buried her face in her hands. Next to her stood Obnoskin, pitifully frightened, and so embarrassed that he rushed forward to shake our hands as if overjoyed at our arrival. A corner of a woman’s dress was visible through the crack of a slightly open door; someone was standing on the other side eavesdropping and spying on us through a peephole. There was no sign of the owners of the house, but they were probably just hiding.

  ‘There she is, our bird of passage! Won’t help to hide your face now!’ Mr Bakhcheyev exclaimed, waddling into the room after us.

  ‘Contain yourself, Stepan Alekseyich! This is most unbecoming. The only person who has the right to speak is Yegor Ilyich, the rest of us have no say here,’ Mizinchikov remarked brusquely.

  Uncle measured Bakhcheyev with a stern glance and, pretending not to notice Obnoskin, who had rushed forward to shake his hand, approached Tatyana Ivanovna as she sat, still hiding her face, and addressed her in soft tones full of sincere and courteous concern.

  ‘Tatyana Ivanovna, we all love and respect you so much that we decided to come ourselves to enquire about your intentions. Would you be so good as to come back with us to Stepanchikovo? It’s Ilyusha’s name-day. Mother is impatiently awaiting you and I’m sure Sashenka and Nastenka have not stopped crying for you all morning …’

  Tatyana Ivanovna meekly raised her head, looked at him through her fingers and, weeping bitterly, flung her arms around his neck.

  ‘Oh do, do take me from here quickly!’ she said, sobbing, ‘quickly, as quickly as possible!’

  ‘Look at her turning tail after all that!’ Bakhcheyev hissed, nudging me in the ribs.

  ‘So the game is up,’ Uncle said curtly to Obnoskin, hardly looking at him. ‘Tatyana Ivanovna, your hand. We’re going!’

  There was a rustling noise behind the door as it creaked and opened a little wider.

  ‘Now suppose we look at it another way,’ Obnoskin remarked, anxiously eyeing the widening gap in the doorway, ‘then you must admit, Yegor Ilyich … your behaviour in my house … and you wouldn’t even acknowledge my greeting, Yegor Ilyich …’

  ‘Your behaviour in my house, sir, was contemptible!’ Uncle replied, looking sternly at Obnoskin, ‘and this is not your house anyway. You heard: Tatyana Ivanovna does not wish to stay here a minute longer. What more do you want? Don’t say a word — you hear me, not another word, please! I want to avoid all unnecessary explanations — which would be to your advantage too.’

  But at this point Obnoskin broke down completely and went on to utter the most unexpected nonsense.

  ‘Don’t despise me, Yegor Ilyich,’ he began in a half-whisper, on the brink of tears of shame and still casting anxious glances at the door, evidently afraid that he might be overheard, ‘it wasn’t my idea at all, it was Mother’s. I wasn’t doing it for any personal gain, Yegor Ilyich; it just happened that way. Of course, I did expect some gain, Yegor Ilyich … but my intentions were honourable, Yegor Ilyich; I would have used the capital for the good … I would have helped the poor. I also wanted to contribute towards the modern educational movement, I was even hoping to establish a university scholarship … that’s how I was planning to use my wealth, Yegor Ilyich; there’s nothing more to it than that, Yegor Ilyich …’

  We all suddenly felt highly embarrassed. Even Mizinchikov blushed and averted his face; as for Uncle, his confusion became so intense that he was completely lost for words.

  ‘Now, come, come!’ he said at last. ‘Calm down, Pavel Semyonych. Can’t be helped! It could happen to anyone … Look here, come and have dinner with us, my friend … I’m really glad, glad …’

  But Mr Bakhcheyev reacted otherwise.

  ‘Endow a scholarship!’ he roared in rage, ‘a likely story! You’d sell your grandmother given half a chance, I bet! … Get yourself a decent pair of trousers before you talk of scholarships, you miserable little rag-and-tatter man! Fancy yourself a lover, do you! Now where would she be now, I wonder, your mother, hiding, is she? I’ll be damned if she’s not sitting there behind those curtains or she’s crept under the bed in holy terror!’

  ‘Stepan, Stepan!’ Uncle yelled.

  Obnoskin blushed deeply and was about to protest; but before he had time to open his mouth, the door flew open and the enraged Anfisa Petrovna, red in the face and eyes flashing, burst into the room.

  ‘What’s all this?’ she exploded. ‘What’s going on? Yegor Ilyich, how dare you intrude into this peaceful house with your band of ruffians, and terrorize ladies, and order everybody about! … This is intolerable! I’ve not yet taken leave of my senses, thank God, Yegor Ilyich! And you, you dim-wit!’ she continued to rail, carrying the attack against her son. ‘Why don’t you stop snivelling and stand up for yourself! Your mother is being insulted in her own house and all you can do is gape and gawk! Call yourself a decent young man after this! You’re just a chicken-hearted cissy!’

  Gone were yesterday’s airs and graces and even the lorgnette had been dispensed with. Anfisa Petrovna now appeared in her true colours. She was a veritable fury, a fury unmasked.

  The moment Uncle saw her, he grabbed Tatyana Ivanovna under her arm and made for the door; but Anfisa Petrovna immediately barred the way.

  ‘No, you shan’t get away that easily, Yegor Ilyich!’ she ranted on. ‘What right have you to take Tatyana Ivanovna away by force? It makes you mad to know she has escaped the vicious snares you’ve been setting for her with the help of your Mamma and that idiotic Foma Fomich of yours! You’d love to be married to her yourself, out of sheer greed! We in this house haven’t sunk that low, thank you very much! Tatyana Ivanovna realized there was a plot in your house to ruin her and she put all her trust in Pavlusha. She herself begged him, yes she did, to rescue her from your snares; she was forced to flee your house in the dead of night — yes, that’s what you drove her to! Isn’t that correct, Tatyana Ivanovna? Of course it is, so how dare you and your mob disturb the peace of noble gentlefolk in their own house and use force to abduct a virtuous lady, in spite of her tears and screams? I shan’t allow it! I shan’t allow it! I’m not mad! … Tatyana Ivanovna will stay here because that’s what she wants! Come along, Tatyana Ivanovna, they’re not worth listening to: they’re your enemies, not your friends! Don’t be afraid, come along! I’ll see them out immediately!’

  ‘No, no!’ Tatyana Ivanovna cried, overcome with fear. ‘I don’t want to, I don’t want to! Him — a husband! I don’t want to marry your son! I don’t want him for my husband!’

  ‘You “don’t want to”!’ Anfisa Petrovna shrieked, choking with anger. ‘You “don’t want to”? You agreed to come and now you don’t want to! Pray tell me then, what right had you to deceive us? Pray tell me, how dare you make promises, foist yourself upon him, run away with him in the dead of night, embarrass us and put us to all sorts of expense? My son may have lost a splendid match because of you! He may have lost tens of thousands in dowry because of you! … No, you’ll pay for this, you’ll have to pay up now! We’ve evidence against you: you ran away at night …’

  But we did not stop to listen to the end of this tirade. With Uncle in the middle, we all moved in a tight phalanx straight at Anfisa Petrovna and out onto the porch. The calash was drawn up immediately.

  ‘Only blackguards and scoundrels would do such a thing!’ yelled Anfisa Petrovna from the landing, completely beside herself. ‘I’ll sue you! You’ll pay for this! … You’re going to a house of ill repute, Tatyana Ivanovna! You can’t possibly marry Yegor Ilyich; he keeps a mistress under your very nose, yes, the governess! …’

  Uncle shuddered and went pale. He bit his lip and hurriedly helped Tatyana Ivanovna to her seat. I approached from the other side of the calash and was waiting for my turn to get in when Obnoskin suddenly appeared alongside, clutching at my hand.

  ‘At least permit me to seek your friendship!’ he said and squeezed my hand hard with a look of desperation on his face.

  ‘What do you mean, friendship?’ I said, one foot already resting on the treadboard of the calash.

  ‘Just so. I recognized a most educated man in you yesterday. Don’t judge me too hard … My mother led me on. I’ve nothing to do with all this. I’m more inclined towards literature — I assure you; all this is Mother’s doing …’

  ‘I believe you, I believe you,’ I said. ‘Good-bye!’

  We took our seats and the horses moved off at a gallop, Anfisa Petrovna still ranting and raving after us. Strange faces suddenly appeared in all the windows and stared at us with wild curiosity.

  There were now five of us in the calash; but later Mizinchikov climbed onto the box, vacating his seat for Mr Bakhcheyev, who found himself sitting directly opposite Tatyana Ivanovna. Tatyana Ivanovna was very pleased that we had taken her away but she still continued to cry. Uncle tried to comfort her as best he could. He himself was sad and pensive; Anfisa Petrovna’s virulent remarks regarding Nastenka had clearly cut him to the quick. But our return journey would have ended quite peacefully had it not been for Mr Bakhcheyev.

  Having taken his seat opposite Tatyana Ivanovna, he seemed to lose control of himself; he fretted and fumed, he fidgeted about, he flushed crimson and rolled his eyes ominously; especially when Uncle attempted to comfort Tatyana Ivanovna, the fat man would lose all restraint and begin to growl like an incensed bulldog. At last Tatyana Ivanovna became aware of the extraordinary state of mind of her fellow-passenger and she began to scrutinize him closely; with a glance and a smile at us she suddenly picked up her parasol and daintily tapped Mr Bakhcheyev on the shoulder.

  ‘Madman!’ she said with exquisite playfulness, and immediately hid her face behind her fan.

  This prank was the last straw.

  ‘Wha-a-t?’ the fat man yelled. ‘What was that, madam? So I’m to be got at too now, am I?’

  ‘Madman! madman!’ Tatyana Ivanovna repeated and suddenly burst out laughing and clapped her hands with glee.

  ‘Stop!’ Bakhcheyev called out to the coachman. ‘Stop!’

  We stopped. Bakhcheyev opened the door and hurriedly began to clamber out of the calash.

  ‘What’s come over you, Stepan Alekseyich? Where are you off to?’ Uncle exclaimed in astonishment.

  ‘I’ve had enough!’ the fat man replied, quivering with indignation. ‘To hell with everything! I’m too old, madam, to play at lovey-dovey. I’d much rather die a slow death on the roadside! Good-bye, madame, comment vous portez-vous!’

  And he indeed stalked off. The calash crawled behind him.

  ‘Stepan Alekseyich!’ Uncle called out, finally losing his patience. ‘Stop fooling, that’s enough, get in! We must be home!’

  ‘Get away from me!’ Stepan Alekseyich brought out, breathless with walking, for which his stoutness had rendered him totally unfit.

  ‘Go on, as fast as you can!’ Mizinchikov called out to the coachman.

  ‘What’s this, hey, stop!’ Uncle exclaimed, but the calash had already shot full speed ahead. Mizinchikov was not mistaken: the desired effect followed immediately.

  ‘Stop! Stop!’ a voice full of desperation resounded in our rear. ‘Stop, you bandit! Wait, you cut-throat, you! …’

  At last the fat man was allowed to catch up with us, exhausted and completely out of breath, his face dripping with perspiration; he had loosened his necktie and taken off his cap. Sullenly and without uttering a word, he got back into the calash. This time I offered him my seat so that at least he would not be obliged to sit face to face with Tatyana Ivanovna, who for the remainder of the journey continued to roll with laughter and clap her hands heartily, quite unable to keep a straight face every time she looked at Stepan Alekseyich. The latter, for his part, said not a word and all the way to the house kept stolidly staring at the rear wheel as it performed its revolutions.

  It was midday when we pulled into Stepanchikovo. I went straight to my room and Gavrila immediately brought me tea. I anxiously began to ply the old man with questions, but he was closely followed by Uncle who at once sent him out of the room.

  2

  News

  ‘Ionly popped in for a minute, my boy,’ he rattled on in haste, ‘to tell you the news … I’ve found out everything. None of them has even been to mass today, except Ilyusha, Sasha and Nastenka. They say Mamma has had her convulsions again. They rubbed and massaged her and only just managed to revive her. Everyone’s now been called to assemble before Foma, and I’m supposed to be there too. I wish I knew whether Foma wants me to congratulate him on his name-day or not — it’s most important! And how will they take all this business this morning? It’s dreadful, Seryozha, I fear the worst …’

  ‘On the contrary, Uncle,’ I replied just as hastily, ‘everything is turning out all right. There’s no question of your having to marry Tatyana Ivanovna now — that alone is worth something! I wanted to tell you that when we were on our way back here.’

  ‘That’s all very well, my boy. But there’s more to it than meets the eye; the hand of the Almighty is in all this, of course, as you rightly say, but that’s not what I meant … Poor Tatyana Ivanovna! The things that happen to her! … But Obnoskin, what a villain! Still, who am I to say “villain”? If I married her, wouldn’t I be just as bad? … But that’s not what I came to talk about … Did you hear what that harpy Anfisa was shouting about Nastenka!’

  ‘I did, Uncle. Do you see now there’s no time to waste?’

  ‘Absolutely — come what may!’ Uncle replied. ‘The moment of truth is upon us. There’s only one thing we didn’t think of yesterday, and afterwards it kept me awake all night: will she accept me or not — that’s the question!’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Uncle! She told you herself she was in love with you!’

  ‘But, my boy, she immediately added: “I’ll never marry you.”’

  ‘Oh, Uncle! She wasn’t serious about that; besides, the situation is different today.’

  ‘You think so? No, my dear Sergey, this is a delicate matter, a frightfully delicate matter! Hm! … You know, even though I was sad, I couldn’t help feeling really thrilled all night! … Well, good-bye, I must fly. They’re waiting; I’m late as it is. I only dropped in for a little natter. Oh, my God!’ he exclaimed, turning back. ‘I’ve forgotten the main thing — I’ve written Foma a letter!’