Father Sergius [21]
Don't speak about me, or say who I am. I have revealed myself only to you. No one knows where I have gone to. It must be so.'
'Oh, but I have told my daughter.'
'Well, ask her not to mention it.'
And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after a sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles.
When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup and gruel which Lukerya brought him.
'How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?' asked Sergius. 'Can I speak to you now?'
'How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have missed one of my lessons. That can wait . . . I had always been planning to go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.'
'Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a confession made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man, I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome, vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than everyone else, is at least worse than most very bad people.'
Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling pityingly, and said:
'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?'
'No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a deceiver.'
'My God! How is that?' exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.
'But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to teach me.'
'What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always make fun of me?'
'Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.'
'I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly . . .'
'How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?'
'It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way. Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just got married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my jealousy, which I could not restrain.'
'I heard that he drank . . .'
'Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember how I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!'
And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the remembrance.
Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka's husband used to beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent veins behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half auburn, he seemed to see just how it had occurred.
'Then I was left with two children and no means at all.'
'But you had an estate!'
'Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how to earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent all we had. I taught the children and improved my own education a little. And then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth form, and God took him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law. And--well, he is well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.'
'Mamma!'--her daughter's voice interrupted her--'Take Mitya! I can't be in two places at once.'
Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room, stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl with his little hands.
'Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief was a kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his position.'
'What is the matter with him?'
'Neurasthenia--it is a dreadful complaint.
'Oh, but I have told my daughter.'
'Well, ask her not to mention it.'
And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after a sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles.
When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup and gruel which Lukerya brought him.
'How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?' asked Sergius. 'Can I speak to you now?'
'How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have missed one of my lessons. That can wait . . . I had always been planning to go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.'
'Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a confession made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man, I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome, vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than everyone else, is at least worse than most very bad people.'
Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling pityingly, and said:
'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?'
'No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a deceiver.'
'My God! How is that?' exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.
'But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to teach me.'
'What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always make fun of me?'
'Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.'
'I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly . . .'
'How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?'
'It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way. Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just got married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my jealousy, which I could not restrain.'
'I heard that he drank . . .'
'Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember how I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!'
And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the remembrance.
Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka's husband used to beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent veins behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half auburn, he seemed to see just how it had occurred.
'Then I was left with two children and no means at all.'
'But you had an estate!'
'Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how to earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent all we had. I taught the children and improved my own education a little. And then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth form, and God took him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law. And--well, he is well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.'
'Mamma!'--her daughter's voice interrupted her--'Take Mitya! I can't be in two places at once.'
Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room, stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl with his little hands.
'Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief was a kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his position.'
'What is the matter with him?'
'Neurasthenia--it is a dreadful complaint.