with walking, for owing to his corpulence he had quite lost the habit of exercise.
“Drive on full speed,” Mizintchikov shouted to the coachman.
“What are you doing? Stop!” my uncle cried out as the carriage dashed on.
Mizintchikov was not out in his reckoning, the desired result followed at once.
“Stop! Stop!” we heard a despairing wail behind us. “Stop, you ruffian! Stop, you cut-throat...”
The fat man came into sight at last, half dead with exhaustion, with drops of sweat on his brow, untying his cravat and taking off his cap. Silently and gloomily he got into the carriage, and this time I gave him my seat; he was not anyway sitting directly opposite Tatyana Ivanovna, who all through this scene had been gushing with laughter and clapping her hands. She could not look gravely at Stepan Alexyevitch all the rest of the journey. He for his part sat without uttering a single word all the way home, staring intently at the hind wheel of the carriage.
It was midday when we got back to Stepantchikovo. I went straight to my lodge, where Gavrila immediately made his appearance with tea. I flew to question the old man, but my uncle walked in almost on his heels and promptly sent him away.
Chapter 2 — New Developments
“I have come to you for a minute, dear boy,” he began, “I was in haste to tell you.... I have heard all about everything. None of them have even been to mass to-day, except Ilyusha, Sasha and Nastenka. They tell me mamma has been in convulsions. They have been rubbing her, it was all they could do to bring her to by rubbing. Now it has been settled for us all to go together to Foma, and I have been summoned. Only I don’t know whether to congratulate Foma on the name- day or not—it’s an important point! And in fact how are they going to take this whole episode? It’s awful, Seryozha, I foresee it...
“On the contrary, uncle,” I hastened in my turn to reply, “everything is settling itself splendidly. You see you can’t marry Tatyana Ivanovna now—that’s a great deal in itself. I wanted to make that clear to you on our way.”
“Oh, yes, my dear boy. But that’s not the point; there is the hand of Providence in it no doubt, as you say, but I wasn’t thinking of that... Poor Tatyana Ivanovna! What adventures happen to her, though!... Obnoskin’s a scoundrel, a scoundrel! Though why do I call him ‘a scoundrel’? Shouldn’t I have been doing the same if I married her?... But that, again, is not what I have come about... Did you hear what that wretch Anfisa Petrovna shouted about Nastenka this morning?”
“Yes, uncle. Haven’t you realised now that you must make haste?”
“Certainly, at all costs!” answered my uncle. “It is a solemn moment. Only there is one thing, dear boy, which we did not think of, but I was thinking of it afterwards all night. Will she marry me, that’s the point?”
“Mercy on us, uncle! After she told you herself that she loves you...”
“But, my dear boy, you know she also said at once that nothing would induce her to many me.”
“Oh, uncle, that’s only words; besides, circumstances are different to-day.”
“Do you think so? No, Sergey, my boy, it’s a delicate business, dreadfully delicate! H’m... But do you know, though I was worrying, yet my heart was somehow aching with happiness all night. Well, good-bye, I must fly. They are waiting for me; I am late as it is. I only ran in to have a word with you. Oh, my God!” he cried, coming back, “I have forgotten what is most important! Do you know what? I have written to him, to Foma!”
“When?”
“In the night, and in the morning, at daybreak, I sent the letter by Vidoplyasov. I put it all before him on two sheets of paper, I told him everything truthfully and frankly, in short that I ought, that is, absolutely must—do you understand— make Nastenka an offer. I besought him not to say a word about our meeting in the garden, and I have appealed to all the generosity of his heart to help me with mamma. I wrote a poor letter, of course, my boy, but I wrote it from my heart and, so to say, watered it with my tears....”
“Well? No answer?”
“So far no; only this morning when we were getting ready to set off, I met him in the hall in night attire, in slippers and nightcap—he sleeps in a nightcap—he had come out of his room. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t even glance at me. I peeped up into his face, not a sign.”
“Uncle, don’t rely on him; he’ll play you some dirty trick.”
“No, no, my boy, don’t say so!” cried my uncle, gesticulating. “I am sure of him. Besides, you know, it’s my last hope. He will understand, he’ll appreciate it. He’s peevish, he’s capricious, I don’t deny it; but when it comes to a question of nobility, then he shines out like a pearl... Yes, like a pearl. You think all that, Sergey, because you have never seen him yet when he is most noble... but, my God! if he really does spread abroad my secret of yesterday, then... I don’t know what will happen then, Sergey! What will be left me in the world that I can believe in? But no, he cannot be such a scoundrel. I am not worth the sole of his shoe. Don’t shake your head, my boy; it’s true—I am not.”
“Yegor Ilyitch! Your mamma is anxious about you.” We hear from below the unpleasant voice of Miss Perepelitsyn, who had probably succeeded in hearing the whole of our conversation from the open window. “They are looking for you all over the house, and cannot find you.”
“Oh, dear, I am late! How dreadful!” cried my uncle in a fluster. “My dear boy, for goodness’ sake dress and come too. Why, it was just for that I ran in, so that we might go together.... I fly, I fly! Anna Nilovna, I fly!”
When I was left alone, I recalled my meeting with Nastenka that morning and was very glad I had not told my uncle of it; I should have upset him even more. I foresaw a great storm, and could not imagine how my uncle would arrange his plans and make an offer to Nastenka. I repeat: in spite of my faith in his honour, I could not help feeling doubtful of his success.
However, I had to make haste. I considered myself bound to assist him, and at once began dressing; but as I wanted to be as well-dressed as possible, I was not very quick in spite of my haste. Mizintchikov walked in.
“I have come for you,” he said. “Yegor Ilyitch begs you to come at once.”
“Let us go!”
I was quite ready, we set off.
“What news there?” I asked on the way.
“They are all in Foma’s room, the whole party,” answered Mizintchikov. “Foma is not in bad humour, but he is somewhat pensive and doesn’t say much, just mutters through his teeth. He even kissed Ilyusha, which of course delighted Yegor Ilyitch. He announced beforehand through Miss Perepelitsyn that they were not to congratulate him on the nameday, and that he had only wanted to test them... Though the old lady keeps sniffing her smelling-salts, she is calm because Foma is calm. Of our adventure no one drops a hint, it is as though it had never happened; they hold their tongues because Foma holds his. He hasn’t let anyone in all the morning, though. While we were away the old lady implored him by all the saints to come that she might consult him, and indeed she hobbled down to the door herself; but he locked himself in and answered that he was praying for the human race, or something of the sort. He has got something up his sleeve, one can see that from his face. But as Yegor Ilyitch is incapable of seeing
