She, too, tried to avoid looking at anyone.
“How do you know?” the old man asked sharply, as impulsive as a child, though he seemed ashamed of his impatience.
“I know,” Nellie answered jerkily. “He would not receive mother, and … turned her away….”
I saw that Nikolay Sergeyitch was on the point of saying something, making some reply such as that the father had good reason not to receive her, but he glanced at us and was silent.
“Why, where were you living when your grandfather wouldn’t receive you?” asked Anna Andreyevna, who showed a sudden obstinacy and desire to continue the conversation on that subject.
“When we arrived we were a long while looking for grandfather,” answered Nellie; “but we couldn’t find him anyhow. Mother told me then that grandfather had once been very rich, and meant to build a factory, but that now he was very poor because the man that mother went away with had taken all grandfather’s money from her and wouldn’t give it back. She told me that herself.”
“Hm!” responded the old man.
“And she told me, too,” Nellie went on, growing more and more earnest, and seeming anxious to answer Nikolay Sergeyitch, though she addressed Anna Andreyevna, “she told me that grandfather was very angry with her, and that she had behaved very wrongly to him; and that she had no one in the whole world but grandfather. And when she told me this she cried. ‘He will never forgive me,’ she said when first we arrived, but perhaps he will see you and love you, and for your sake he will forgive me,’ Mother was very fond of me, and she always used to kiss me when she said this, and she was very much afraid of going to grandfather. She taught me to pray for grandfather, she used to pray herself, and she told me a great deal of how she used to live in old days with grandfather, and how grandfather used to love her above everything. She used to play the piano to him and read to him in the evening, and grandfather used to kiss her and give her lots of presents. He used to give her everything; so that one day they had a quarrel on mother’s nameday, because grandfather thought mother didn’t know what present he was going to give her, and mother had found out long before. Mother wanted earrings, and grandfather tried to deceive her and told her it was going to be a brooch, not earrings; and when he gave her the earrings and saw that mother knew that it was going to be earrings and not a brooch, he was angry that mother had found out and wouldn’t speak to her for half the day, but afterwards he came of his own accord to kiss her and ask her forgiveness.”
Nellie was carried away by her story, and there was a flush on her pale, wan little cheek. It was evident that more than once in their corner in the basement the mother had talked to her little Nellie of her happy days in the past, embracing and kissing the little girl who was all that was left to her in life, and weeping over her, never suspecting what a powerful effect these stories had on the frail child’s morbidly sensitive and prematurely developed feelings.
But Nellie seemed suddenly to check herself. She looked mistrustfully around and was mute again. The old man frowned and drummed on the table again. A tear glistened in Anna Andreyevna’s eye, and she silently wiped it away with her handkerchief.
“Mother came here very ill,” Nellie went on in a low voice. Her chest was very bad. We were looking for grandfather a long time and we couldn’t find him; and we took a corner in an underground room.”
“A corner, an invalid!” cried Anna Andreyevna.
“Yes…a corner…,” answered Nellie. “Mother was poor. Mother told me,” she added with growing earnestness, “that it’s no sin to be poor, but it’s a sin to be rich and insult people, and that God was punishing her.”
“It was in Vassilyevsky Island you lodged? At Mme. Bubnov’s, wasn’t it?” the old man asked, turning to me, trying to throw a note of unconcern into his question. He spoke as though he felt it awkward to remain sitting silent.
“No, not there. At first it was in Myestchansky Street,” Nellie answered. “It was very dark and damp there,” she added after a pause, “and mother got very ill there, though she was still walking about then. I used to wash the clothes for her, and she used to cry. There used to be an old woman living there, too, the widow of a captain; and there was a retired clerk, and he always came in drunk and made a noise every night. I was dreadfully afraid of him. Mother used to take me into her bed and hug me, and she trembled all over herself while he used to shout and swear. Once he tried to beat the captain’s widow, and she was a very old lady and walked with a stick. Mother was sorry for her, and she stood up for her; the man hit mother, too, and I hit him….”
Nellie stopped. The memory agitated her; her eyes were blazing.
“Good heavens!” cried Anna Andreyevna, entirely absorbed in the story and keeping her eyes fastened upon Nellie, who addressed her principally.
“Then mother went away from there,” Nellie went on, “and took me with her. That was in the daytime. We were walking about the streets till it was quite evening, and mother was walking about and crying all the time, and holding my hand. I was very tired. We had nothing to eat that day. And mother kept talking to herself and saying to me: ‘Be poor, Nellie, and when I die don’t listen to anyone or anything. Don’t go to anyone, be alone and poor, and work, and if you can’t get work beg alms, don’t go to him.’ It was dusk when we crossed a big street; suddenly mother cried out, ‘Azorka! Azorka!’ And a big dog, whose hair had all come off, ran up to mother, whining and jumping up to her. And mother was frightened; she turned pale, cried out, and fell on her knees before a tall old man, who walked with a stick, looking at the ground. And the tall old man was grandfather, and he was so thin and in such poor clothes. That was the first time I saw grandfather. Grandfather was very much frightened, too, and turned very pale, and when he saw mother kneeling before him and embracing his feet he tore himself away, pushed mother off, struck the pavement with his stick, and walked quickly away from us. Azorka stayed behind and kept whining and licking mother, and then ran after grandfather and took him by his coat-tail and tried to pull him back. And grandfather hit him with his stick. Azorka was going to run back to us, but grandfather called to him; he ran after grandfather and kept whining. And mother lay as though she were dead; a crowd came round and the police came. I kept calling out and trying to get mother up. She got up, looked round her, and followed me. I led her home. People looked at us a long while and kept shaking their heads.”
Nellie stopped to take breath and make a fresh effort. She was very pale, but there was a gleam of determination in her eyes. It was evident that she had made up her mind at last to tell all. There was something defiant about her at this moment.
“Well,” observed Nikolay Sergeyitch in an unsteady voice, with a sort of irritable harshness. “Well, your mother had injured her father, and he had reason to repulse her.”
“Mother told me that, too,” Nellie retorted sharply; “and as she walked home she kept saying ‘That’s your grandfather, Nellie, and I sinned against him; and he cursed me, and that’s why God has punished me.’ And all that evening and all the next day she kept saying this. And she talked as though she didn’t know what she was saying….”
The old man remained silent.
“And how was it you moved into another lodging? “ asked Anna Andreyevna, still crying quietly.
“That night mother fell ill, and the captain’s widow found her a lodging at Mme. Bubnov’s, and two days later we moved, and the captain’s widow with us; and after we’d moved mother was quite ill and in bed for three weeks, and I looked after her. All our money had gone, and we were helped by the captain’s widow and Ivan Alexandritch.”
“The
