Novels, Tales, Journeys полностью

The reader has probably guessed that Kirila Petrovich’s daughter, of whom we have as yet said only a few words, is the heroine of our story. In the period we are describing, she was seventeen years old and her beauty was in full bloom. Her father loved her to distraction, but treated her with his own special willfulness, now trying to cater to her slightest whims, then frightening her with severe and sometimes cruel treatment. Assured of her affection, he could never gain her confidence. She was used to concealing her feelings and thoughts from him, because she could never know for certain how they would be received. She had no friends and grew up in solitude. The neighbors’ wives and daughters rarely visited Kirila Petrovich, whose habitual conversation and amusements called for the camaraderie of men and not the presence of ladies. Rarely did our beauty appear among the guests feasting at Kirila Petrovich’s. An enormous library, consisting for the most part of works by eighteenth-century French writers, was put at her disposal. Her father, who never read anything except The Perfect Cook, could not guide her in the choice of books, and Masha, having leafed through works of various sorts, quite naturally settled on novels. It was thus that she completed her education, begun previously under the guidance of Mam’selle Mimi, to whom Kirila Petrovich had shown great confidence and benevolence, and whom he had finally been forced to send quietly to another estate, once the consequences of his friendship became too obvious. Mam’selle Mimi left quite a pleasant memory behind her. She was a good girl and never misused the influence she obviously had over Kirila Petrovich, differing in this from other confidantes, who were replaced every minute. Kirila Petrovich himself seemed to have liked her more than the others, and a dark-eyed boy, a scamp of about nine, recalling Mam’selle Mimi’s southern features, was brought up in the house and recognized as his son, though many barefoot children, as like him as two drops of water, ran around outside his windows and were considered serfs. For his little Sasha, Kirila Petrovich invited a French tutor from Moscow, who arrived in Pokrovskoe during the events we are now describing.

Kirila Petrovich liked this tutor for his pleasant appearance and simple manners. He presented Kirila Petrovich with his references and a letter from one of Troekurov’s relations, with whom he had lived for four years as a tutor. Kirila Petrovich looked through it all and was displeased only by his Frenchman’s youth—not that he considered this agreeable drawback incompatible with the patience and experience so necessary to the unfortunate position of tutor, but he had doubts of his own, which he decided at once to explain to him. For that he ordered Masha to be sent to him (Kirila Petrovich did not speak French, and she served as his interpreter).

“Come here, Masha. Tell this moosieu that, so be it, I’ll take him; only provided that he not dare to go chasing after my girls, otherwise I’ll show the son of a dog…Translate that for him, Masha.”

Masha blushed and, turning to the tutor, told him in French that her father hoped for his modesty and proper behavior.

The Frenchman bowed and replied that he hoped to earn respect, even if favor were denied him.

Masha translated his reply word for word.

“All right, all right,” said Kirila Petrovich. “He has no need of favor or respect. His business is to look after Sasha and teach him grammar and geography. Translate that for him.”

Marya softened her father’s crude expressions in her translation, and Kirila Petrovich sent his Frenchman off to the wing, where a room had been assigned to him.

Masha, having been brought up with aristocratic prejudices, paid no attention to the young Frenchman. For her a tutor was a sort of servant or artisan, and servants or artisans did not seem like men to her. Nor did she notice the impression she had made on M. Desforges, his confusion, his trembling, his altered voice. After that, for several days in a row she met him rather often, without paying any greater attention to him. In an unexpected way, she acquired a completely new idea of him.