The Russian Short Story Megapack. Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ accordance with the fashion of seventy years before, and made as long and as careful a toilette as she would have done sixty years previously. Near the window, at an embroidery frame, sat a young lady, her ward.

      “Good morning, grandmamma,” said a young officer, entering the room. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Lise. Grandmamma, I want to ask you something.”

      “What is it, Paul?”

      “I want you to let me introduce one of my friends to you, and to allow me to bring him to the ball on Friday.”

      “Bring him direct to the ball and introduce him to me there. Were you at B——’s yesterday?”

      “Yes; everything went off very pleasantly, and dancing was kept up until five o’clock. How charming Yeletzkaya was!”

      “But, my dear, what is there charming about her? Isn’t she like her grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna? By the way, she must be very old, the Princess Daria Petrovna.”

      “How do you mean, old?” cried Tomsky thoughtlessly; “she died seven years ago.”

      The young lady raised her head and made a sign to the young officer. He then remembered that the old Countess was never to be informed of the death of any of her contemporaries, and he bit his lips. But the old Countess heard the news with the greatest indifference.

      “Dead!” said she; “and I did not know it. We were appointed maids of honour at the same time, and when we were presented to the Empress…”

      And the Countess for the hundredth time related to her grandson one of her anecdotes.

      “Come, Paul,” said she, when she had finished her story, “help me to get up. Lizanka, where is my snuff-box?”

      And the Countess with her three maids went behind a screen to finish her toilette. Tomsky was left alone with the young lady.

      “Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to the Countess?” asked Lizaveta Ivanovna in a whisper.

      “Narumov. Do you know him?”

      “No. Is he a soldier or a civilian?”

      “A soldier.”

      “Is he in the Engineers?”

      “No, in the Cavalry. What made you think that he was in the Engineers?”

      The young lady smiled, but made no reply.

      “Paul,” cried the Countess from behind the screen, “send me some new novel, only pray don’t let it be one of the present day style.”

      “What do you mean, grandmother?”

      “That is, a novel, in which the hero strangles neither his father nor his mother, and in which there are no drowned bodies. I have a great horror of drowned persons.”

      “There are no such novels nowadays. Would you like a Russian one?”

      “Are there any Russian novels? Send me one, my dear, pray send me one!”

      “Good-bye, grandmother: I am in a hurry… Good-bye, Lizaveta Ivanovna. What made you think that Narumov was in the Engineers?”

      And Tomsky left the boudoir.

      Lizaveta Ivanovna was left alone: she laid aside her work and began to look out of the window. A few moments afterwards, at a corner house on the other side of the street, a young officer appeared. A deep blush covered her cheeks; she took up her work again and bent her head down over the frame. At the same moment the Countess returned completely dressed.

      “Order the carriage, Lizaveta,” said she; “we will go out for a drive.”

      Lizaveta arose from the frame and began to arrange her work.

      “What is the matter with you, my child, are you deaf?” cried the Countess. “Order the carriage to be got ready at once.”

      “I will do so this moment,” replied the young lady, hastening into the ante-room.

      A servant entered and gave the Countess some books from Prince Paul Aleksandrovich.

      “Tell him that I am much obliged to him,” said the Countess. “Lizaveta! Lizaveta! Where are you running to?”

      “I am going to dress.”

      “There is plenty of time, my dear. Sit down here. Open the first volume and read to me aloud.”

      Her companion took the book and read a few lines.

      “Louder,” said the Countess. “What is the matter with you, my child? Have you lost your voice? Wait—give me that footstool—a little nearer—that will do.”

      Lizaveta read two more pages. The Countess yawned.

      “Put the book down,” said she: “what a lot of nonsense! Send it back to Prince Paul with my thanks… But where is the carriage?”

      “The carriage is ready,” said Lizaveta, looking out into the street.

      “How is it that you are not dressed?” said the Countess: “I must always wait for you. It is intolerable, my dear!”

      Liza hastened to her room. She had not been there two minutes, before the Countess began to ring with all her might. The three waiting-maids came running in at one door and the valet at another.

      “How is it that you cannot hear me when I ring for you?” said the Countess. “Tell Lizaveta Ivanovna that I am waiting for her.”

      Lizaveta returned with her hat and cloak on.

      “At last you are here!” said the Countess. “But why such an elaborate toilette? Whom do you intend to captivate? What sort of weather is it? It seems rather windy.”

      “No, your Ladyship, it is very calm,” replied the valet.

      “You never think of what you are talking about. Open the window. So it is: windy and bitterly cold. Unharness the horses. Lizaveta, we won’t go out—there was no need for you to deck yourself like that.”

      “What a life is mine!” thought Lizaveta Ivanovna.

      And, in truth, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a very unfortunate creature. “The bread of the stranger is bitter,” says Dante, “and his staircase hard to climb.” But who can know what the bitterness of dependence is so well as the poor companion of an old lady of quality? The Countess A—— had by no means a bad heart, bat she was capricious, like a woman who had been spoilt by the world, as well as being avaricious and egotistical, like all old people who have seen their best days, and whose thoughts are with the past and not the present. She participated in all the vanities of the great world, went to balls, where she sat in a corner, painted and dressed in old-fashioned style, like a deformed but indispensable ornament of the ball-room; all the guests on entering approached her and made a profound bow, as if in accordance with a set ceremony, but after that nobody took any further notice of her. She received the whole town at her house, and observed the strictest etiquette, although she could no longer recognise СКАЧАТЬ