CHAPTER XV
One evening a thunderstorm was brewing. The black clouds lay entrenchedbeyond the Volga, and the air was as hot and moist as in a bath-house.Here and there over the fields and roads rose pillars of dust.
In the house Tatiana Markovna sent her household hurrying to close thestove pipes, the doors and the windows. She was not only afraid of athunderstorm herself, but she was not pleased if her fear was not sharedby everybody else--that would be freethinking. So at each flash oflightning everyone must make the sign of the Cross, on pain of beingthought a blockhead. She chased Egorka from the ante-room into theservants' room, because during the approach of the storm he would notstop giggling with the maids.
The storm approached majestically, with the dull distant noise of thethunder, with a storm of sand, when suddenly there was a flash oflightning over the village and a sharp clap of thunder.
Disregarding the passionate warnings of his aunt, Raisky took his capand umbrella and hurried into the park, anxious to see the landscapeunder the shadow of the storm, to find new ideas for his drawings, andto observe his own emotions. He descended the cliff, and passed throughthe undergrowth by a winding, hardly perceptible path. The rain fell bybucketfuls, one flash of lightning followed another, the thunder rolled,and the whole prospect was veiled in mist and cloud. He soon regrettedhis intention. His soaked umbrella did not protect him from the rain,which whipped his face and poured down on his clothes, and his feet sankankle-deep in the muddy ground. He was continually knocking against andstumbling over unevennesses in the ground or tree stumps, treading inholes and pools. He was obliged to stand still until a flash oflightning lighted up a few yards of the path. He knew that not far awaylay a ruined arbour, dating from the time when the precipice formed partof the garden. Not long before he had seen it in the thicket, but now itwas indiscoverable, however much he would have preferred to observe thestorm from its shelter. And since he did not wish to retrace thehorrible path by which he had come, he resolved to make his way to thenearest carriage road, to climb over the twisted hedge and to reach thevillage.
He could hardly drag his soaked boots free of the mud and weeds, and hewas dazzled by the lightning and nearly deafened by the noise. Heconfessed that he might as well have admired the storm from the shelterof the house. In the end he struck the fence, but when he tried to leapover it he slipped and fell in the ditch. With difficulty he draggedhimself out and clambered over. There was little traffic on the steepand dangerous ridge, used for the most part as a short cut by emptyone-horse carriages with their quiet beasts.
He closed his dripping umbrella, and put it under his arm. Dazzled bythe lightning, slipping every minute, he toiled painfully up the slope,and when he reached the summit he heard close by the noise of wheels,the neighing of horses and the cry of the coachman. He stood on one sideand pressed himself against the fence to allow the passage of thecarriage, since the road was very narrow. In a flash of lightning Raiskysaw before him a char-a-banc with several persons in it, drawn by twowell-kept, apparently magnificent horses. In the light of another flashhe was amazed to recognise Vera.
"Vera," he cried loudly.
The carriage stood still.
"Who is there? Is it you, cousin, in this weather?"
"And you?"
"I am hurrying home."
"So do I want to. I came down the precipice, and lost my way in thebushes.
"Who is driving you? Is there room for me."
"Plenty of room," said a masculine voice. "Give me your hand to get up."Raisky gave his hand, and was hauled up by a strong arm. Next to Verasat Marina, and the two, huddled together like wet chickens, were tryingto protect themselves from the drenching rain by the leather covering.
"Who is with you?" asked Raisky in a low voice. "Whose horses are these,and who is driving?"
"Ivan Ivanovich."
"I don't know him."
"The Forester," whispered Vera, and he would have repeated her words ifshe had not nudged him to keep silence. "Later," she said.
He remembered the talk with his aunt, her praises of the Forester, herhints of his being a good match. This then was the hero of the romance,the Forester. He tried to get a look at him, but only saw an ordinaryhat with a wide brim, and a tall, broad-shouldered figure wrapped in arain coat.
The Forester handled the reins skilfully as he drove up the steep hill,cracked his whip, whistled, held the horses' heads with a firm hand whenthey threatened to shy at a flash of lightning, and turned round tothose sheltered in the body of the vehicle.
"How do you feel, Vera Vassilievna," he inquired anxiously. "Are youvery cold and wet?"
"I am quite comfortable, Ivan Ivanovich; the rain does not catch me."
"You must take my raincoat. God forbid that you should take cold. Ishould never forgive myself all my life for having driven you."
"You weary me with your friendly anxiety. Don't bother about anythingbut your horses."
"As you please," replied Ivan Ivanovich with hasty obedience, turning tohis horses, and he cast only an occasional anxious glance towards Vera.
They drove past the village to the door of the new house. Ivan Ivanovichjumped down and hammered on the door with his riding whip. Handing overthe care of his horses to Prokor, Tarasska and Egorka, who hurried upfor the purpose, he stood by the steps, took Vera in his arms, andcarried her carefully and respectfully, like a precious burden, throughthe ranks of wide-eyed lackeys and maid-servants bearing lights, to thedivan in the hall.
Raisky followed, wet and dirty, without once removing his eyes from them.
The Forester went back into the ante-room, made himself as respectableas he could, shook himself, pushed his fingers through his hair, anddemanded a brush.
Meanwhile Tatiana Markovna bade Vera welcome and reproached her forventuring on such a journey; she must change her clothes throughout andin a few moments the samovar would be brought in, and supper served.
"Quick, quick, Grandmother!" said Vera, rubbing herself affectionatelyagainst her. "Let us have tea, soup, roast and wine. Ivan Ivanovich ishungry." She knew how to quiet her aunt's anxiety.
"That's splendid. It shall be served in a minute. Where is IvanIvanovich?"
"I am making myself a bit decent," cried a voice from the ante-room.
Egor, Yakob and Stepan hummed round the Forester as if he had been agood horse. Then he entered the hall and respectfully kissed the handsof Tatiana Markovna, and of Marfinka, who had only just decided to getout of bed, where she had hidden herself for fear of the storm.
"It is not necessary, Marfinka," said her aunt, "to hide from the storm.You should pray to God, and will not then be struck."
"I am not afraid of thunder and lightning, of which the peasants areusually the victims, but it makes me nervous," replied Marfinka.
Raisky, with the water still dripping off him, stood in the windowwatching the guest. Ivan Ivanovich Tushin was a tall, broad-shoulderedman of thirty-eight, with strongly-marked features, a dark, thick beard,and large grey rather timid eyes, and hands disproportionately large,with broad nails. He wore a grey coat and a high-buttoned vest, with abroad turned-down home-spun collar. He was a fine man, but with markedsimplicity, not to put a fine point on it in his glance and his manners.Raisky wondered jealously whether he was Vera's hero. Why not? Womenlike these tall men with open faces and highly developed muscularstrength. But Vera--
"And you, Borushka," cried Tatiana Markovna suddenly, clapping her hands."Look at your clothes. Egorka and the rest of you! Where are you? Thereis a pool on the floor round you, Borushka. You will be ill. Vera wasdriving home, but there was no reason for you to go out into the storm.Go and change your clothes, Borushka, and have some rum in your tea.Ivan Ivanovich, you ought to go with him. Are you acquainted? My nephewBoris Raisky--Ivan Ivanovich Tushin."
"We have already made acquaintance," said Tushin, with a bow. "We pickedup your nephew on the way. Many thanks, I need nothing, but you, BorisPavlovich, ought to change."
/> "You must forgive an old woman for telling you you are all half mad. Noanimal leaves his hole in weather like this. Yakob, shut the shutterscloser. Fancy crossing the Volga in weather like this."
"My carriage is solid, and has a cover. Vera Vassilievna sat as dry asif she were in a room."
"But in this terrible storm."
"Only old women are afraid of a storm."
"I'm much obliged."
"I beg your pardon," said Tushin in embarrassment. "It slipped from mytongue. I meant ordinary women."
"God will forgive you," laughed Tatiana Markovna. "It won't indeed hurtyou, but Vera! Were you not afraid?"
"One does not think of fear with Ivan Ivanovich."
"If Ivan Ivanovich went bear-hunting, would you go with him?"
"Yes, Grandmother. Take me with you sometimes, Ivan Ivanovich."
"With pleasure, Vera Vassilievna, in winter. You have only to command."
"That is just like her, not to mind what her Grandmother thinks."
"I was joking, Grandmother."
"I know you would be equal to it. Had you no scruples about hinderingIvan Ivanovich; this distance...."
"It is my fault. As soon as I heard from Natalie Ivanovna that VeraVassilievna wanted to come home, I asked for the pleasure," he saidlooking at Vera with a mixed air of modesty and respect.
"A nice pleasure in this weather."
"It was lighter while we were driving, and Vera Vassilievna was notafraid."
"Is Anna Ivanovna well?"
"Thank you. She sends her kindest regards, and has sent you somepreserves, also some peaches out of the orangery, and mushrooms. Theyare in the char-a-banc."
"It is very good of her. We have no peaches. I have put aside for hersome of the tea that Borushka brought with him."
"Many thanks."
"How could you let your horses climb the hill in such weather? Were theyterrified by the storm?"
"My horses obey me like dogs. Should I have driven Vera Vassilievna ifthere were any danger?"
"You are a good friend," interrupted Vera. "I have absolute trust bothin you, and in your horses."
At this moment Raisky returned, having changed his clothes. He hadnoticed the glance which Vera gave Tushin, and had heard her last remark.
"Thank you, Vera Vassilievna," answered Tushin. "Don't forget what youhave just said. If you ever need anything, if...."
"If there is another such raging storm," said Tatiana Markovna.
"Any storm," added Tushin firmly.
"There are other storms in life," said Tatiana Markovna with a sigh.
"Whatever they are, if they break on you, Vera Vassilievna, seek refugein the forest over the Volga, where lives a bear who will serve you, asthe fairytale tells."
"I will remember," returned Vera laughing. "If a sorcerer wants to carryme off, as in the fairy-tale, I will take refuge in the wood."
Raisky saw Tushin's glance of devotion and modest reserve, he heard hiswords, so quietly and modestly spoken, and thought the letter written onthe blue paper could be from no one else. He looked at Vera to see ifshe were moved or would relapse into a stony silence, but she showed nosign. Vera appeared to him in a new light. In her manner and her wordsto Tushin he saw simplicity, trust, gentleness and affection such as sheshowed to no one else, not even to her aunt or to Marfinka.
"She is on her guard with her Grandmother," he thought, "and takes noheed of Marfinka. But when she looks at Tushin, speaks to him, or givesher hand it is plain to see that they are friends."
The Forester, who had business to do in the town, stayed for three dayswith Tatiana Markovna, and for three days Raisky sought for the key tothis new character and to his place in Vera's heart.
They called Ivan Ivanovich the "Forester," because he lived on hisestate in the midst of the forest. He loved the forest, growing newtimber on the one hand and on the other allowing it to be cut down andloaded up on the Volga for sale. The several thousand _dessiatins_of surrounding forest were exceedingly well managed, and nothing waslacking; there was even a steam saw. He attended to everything himself,and in his spare time hunted and fished and amused himself with hisbachelor neighbours. From time to time he sought a change of scene, andthen arranged with his friends to drive in a three-horse carriage, drawnby fresh horses, forty versts away to the seat of a landed proprietor,where for three days the fun was fast enough. Then they returned, put upwith Tushin, or waked the sleepy town. In these festivals all classdistinctions were lost.
After this dissipation he would again remain lost to the world for threemonths in his forest home, see after the wood cutting, and go huntingwith two servants, and occasionally have to lie up with a wounded arm.The life suited him. He read works on agriculture and forestry, tookcounsel with his German assistant, an experienced forester, who wasnevertheless not allowed to be the master. All orders must come fromTushin himself, and were carried out by the help of two foremen and agang of hired labourers. In his spare time he liked to read Frenchnovels, the only distraction that he permitted himself. There wasnothing extraordinary in a retired life like this in the wide districtin which he lived.
Raisky learnt that Tushin saw Vera at the pope's house, that he wentthere expressly when he heard that Vera was a visitor. Vera herself toldhim so. She and Natalie Ivanovna, too, visited Tushin's property, knownas "Smoke," because far away from the hills could be seen the smokerising from the chimneys of the house in the depth of the forest.
Tushin lived with his spinster sister, Anna Ivanovna, to whom TatianaMarkovna was much attached. Tatiana Markovna was delighted when she cameto town. There was no one with whom she liked more to drink coffee, noone to whom she gave her confidence in the same degree; they shared thesame liking for household management, the same deep-rooted self-esteemand the same respect for family tradition.
Of Tushin himself there was little more to say than was revealed on afirst occasion; his character lay bare to the daylight, with no secret,no romantic side. He possessed more than plain good sense, for hisunderstanding did not derive from the brain alone, but from the heartand will. Men of his type, especially when they care nothing for thesuperfluous things of life, but keep their eyes fixed undeviatingly onthe necessary, do not make themselves noticed in the crowd and rarelyreach the front of the world's stage.
Raisky noticed in the Forester's behaviour towards Vera a constantadoration expressed by his glance and his voice, and sometimes by histimidity; on her side an equally constant confidence, frankness andaffection, nothing more. He did not surprise in her a single sign orgesture, a single word or glance that might have betrayed her. Tushinshowed pure esteem and a consistent readiness to serve her as her bear,and no more. Surely he was not the man who wrote the letter on the bluepaper.
After the Forester had taken his leave, the household fell back into itsregular routine. Vera seemed untroubled and in possession of a quiethappiness, and showed herself kind and affectionate to her aunt andMarfinka. Yet there were days when unrest suddenly came upon her, whenshe went hastily to her room in the old house, or descended theprecipice into the park, and displayed a gloomy resentment if Raisky orMarfinka ventured to disturb her solitude. After a short interval sheresumed an even, sympathetic temper, helped in the household, lookedover her aunt's accounts, and even paid visits to the ladies in the town.She discussed literary questions with Raisky, who realised from theopinions she expressed that her reading was wide and enticed her intothorough-going discussions. They read together, though not regularly.Sometimes a wild intoxication flared up in her, but it was adisconcerting merriment. One evening, when she suddenly left the room,Tatiana Markovna and Raisky exchanged a long questioning glance.
"What do you think of Vera?" she began. "She seems to have recoveredfrom her malady of the soul."
"I think it is more serious than before."
"What is the matter with you, Borushka? You can see how gay and friendlyshe has become."
"Is she like the Vera you have known. I fear that this is n
ot gladness,but rather agitation, even intoxication."
"You are right. She is changed."
"Don't you notice that she is ecstatic?"
"Ecstatic?" repeated Tatiana Markovna anxiously. "Why do you say that,especially just at night? I shan't sleep. The ecstasy of a young girlspells disaster."