some reminiscences-第7章

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help　me；　and；　for　the　most　part；　had　been　standing　attentive　but



unnecessary　at　the　door　of　the　room。　　I　did　not　want　him　in　the



least；　but　I　did　not　like　to　tell　him　to　go　away。　　He　was　a　young



fellow；　certainly　more　than　ten　years　younger　than　myself；　I　had



not　beenI　won't　say　in　that　place　but　within　sixty　miles　of　it；



ever　since　the　year　'67；　yet　his　guileless　physiognomy　of　the



open　peasant　type　seemed　strangely　familiar。　　It　was　quite



possible　that　he　might　have　been　a　descendant；　a　son　or　even　a



grandson；　of　the　servants　whose　friendly　faces　had　been　familiar



to　me　in　my　early　childhood。　　As　a　matter　of　fact　he　had　no　such



claim　on　my　consideration。　　He　was　the　product　of　some　village



near　by　and　was　there　on　his　promotion；　having　learned　the



service　in　one　or　two　houses　as　pantry…boy。　　I　know　this　because



I　asked　the　worthy　V　next　day。　　I　might　well　have　spared　the



question。　　I　discovered　before　long　that　all　the　faces　about　the



house　and　all　the　faces　in　the　village：　　the　grave　faces　with



long　moustaches　of　the　heads　of　families；　the　downy　faces　of　the



young　men；　the　faces　of　the　little　fair…haired　children；　the



handsome；　tanned；　wide…browed　faces　of　the　mothers　seen　at　the



doors　of　the　huts　were　as　familiar　to　me　as　though　I　had　known



them　all　from　childhood；　and　my　childhood　were　a　matter　of　the



day　before　yesterday。







The　tinkle　of　the　traveller's　bels；　after　growing　louder；　had



faded　away　quickly；　and　the　tumult　of　barking　dogs　in　the　village



had　calmed　down　at　last。　　My　uncle；　lounging　in　the　corner　of　a



small　couch；　smoked　his　long　Turkish　chibouk　in　silence。







〃This　is　an　extremely　nice　writing…table　you　have　got　for　my



room；〃　I　remarked。







〃It　is　really　your　property；〃　he　said；　keeping　his　eyes　on　me；



with　an　interested　and　wistful　expression　as　he　had　done　ever



since　I　had　entered　the　house。　　〃Forty　years　ago　your　mother　used



to　write　at　this　very　table。　In　our　house　in　Oratow　it　stood　in



the　little　sitting…room　which；　by　a　tacit　arrangement；　was　given



up　to　the　girlsI　mean　to　your　mother　and　her　sister　who　died　so



young。　　It　was　a　present　to　them　jointly　from　our　uncle　Nicholas



B。　when　your　mother　was　seventeen　and　your　aunt　two　years



younger。　　She　was　a　very　dear；　delightful　girl；　that　aunt　of



yours；　of　whom　I　suppose　you　know　nothing　more　than　the　name。



She　did　not　shine　so　much　by　personal　beauty　and　a　cultivated



mind；　in　which　your　mother　was　far　superior。　　It　was　her　good



sense；　the　admirable　sweetness　of　her　nature；　her　exceptional



facility　and　ease　in　daily　relations　that　endeared　her　to



everybody。　　Her　death　was　a　terrible　grief　and　a　serious　moral



loss　for　us　all。　　Had　she　lived　she　would　have　brought　the



greatest　blessings　to　the　house　it　would　have　been　her　lot　to



enter；　as　wife；　mother　and　mistress　of　a　household。　　She　would



have　created　round　herself　an　atmosphere　of　peace　and　content



which　only　those　who　can　love　unselfishly　are　able　to　evoke。



Your　motherof　far　greater　beauty；　exceptionally　distinguished



in　person；　manner　and　intellecthad　a　less　easy　disposition。



Being　more　brilliantly　gifted　she　also　expected　more　from　life。



At　that　trying　time　especially；　we　were　greatly　concerned　about



her　state。　　Suffering　in　her　health　from　the　shock　of　her



father's　death　（she　was　alone　in　the　house　with　him　when　he　died



suddenly）；　she　was　torn　by　the　inward　struggle　between　her　love



for　the　man　whom　she　was　to　marry　in　the　end　and　her　knowledge　of



her　dead　father's　declared　objection　to　that　match。　　Unable　to



bring　herself　to　disregard　that　cherished　memory　and　that



judgment　she　had　always　respected　and　trusted；　and；　on　the　other



hand；　feeling　the　impossibility　to　resist　a　sentiment　so　deep　and



so　true；　she　could　not　have　been　expected　to　preserve　her　mental



and　moral　balance。　　At　war　with　herself；　she　could　not　give　to



others　that　feeling　of　peace　which　was　not　her　own。　　It　was　only



later；　when　united　at　last　with　the　man　of　her　choice　that　she



developed　those　uncommon　gifts　of　mind　and　heart　which　compelled



the　respect　and　admiration　even　of　our　foes。　　Meeting　with　calm



fortitude　the　cruel　trials　of　a　life　reflecting　all　the　national



and　social　misfortunes　of　the　community；　she　realised　the　highest



conceptions　of　duty　as　a　wife；　a　mother　and　a　patriot；　sharing



the　exile　of　her　husband　and　representing　nobly　the　ideal　of



Polish　womanhood。　　Our　Uncle　Nicholas　was　not　a　man　very



accessible　to　feelings　of　affection。　　Apart　from　his　worship　for



Napoleon　the　Great；　he　loved　really；　I　believe；　only　three　people



in　the　world：　　his　motheryour　great…grandmother；　whom　you　have



seen　but　cannot　possibly　remember；　his　brother；　our　father；　in



whose　house　he　lived　for　so　many　years；　and　of　all　of　us；　his



nephews　and　nieces　grown　up　round　him；　your　mother　alone。　　The



modest；　lovable　qualities　of　the　youngest　sister　he　did　not　seem



able　to　see。　　It　was　I　who　felt　most　profoundly　this　unexpected



stroke　of　death　falling　upon　the　family　less　than　a　year　after　I



had　become　its　head。　　It　was　terribly　unexpected。　　Driving　home



one　wintry　afternoon　to　keep　me　company　in　our　empty　house；　where



I　had　to　remain　permanently　administering　the　estate　and



attending　to　the　complicated　affairs（the　girls　took　it　in　turn



week　and　week　about）driving；　as　I　said；　from　the　house　of　the



Countess　Tekla　Potochka；　where　our　invalid　mother　was　staying



then　to　be　near　a　doctor；　they　lost　the　road　and　got　stuck　in　a



snowdrift。　　She　was　alone　with　the　coachman　and　old　Valery；　the



personal　servant　of　our　late　father。　　Impatient　of　delay　while



they　were　trying　to　dig　themselves　out；　she　jumped　out　of　the



sledge　and　went　to　look　for　the　road　herself。　　All　this　happened



in　'51；　not　ten　miles　from　the　house　in　which　we　are　sitting　now。



The　road　was　soon　found；　but　snow　had　begun　to　fall　thickly



again；　and　they　were　four　more　hours　getting　home。　　Both　the　men



took　off　their　sheepskin…lined　great…coats　and　used　all　their　own



rugs　to　wrap　her　up　against　the　cold；　notwithstanding　her



protests；　positive　orders　and　even　struggles；　as　Valery



afterwards　related　to　me。　　'How　could　I；'　he　remonstrated　with



her；　'go　to　meet　the　blessed　soul　of　my　late　master　if　I　let　any



harm　come　to　you　while　there's　a　spark　of　life　left　in　my　body？'



When　they　reached　home　at　last　the　poor　old　man　was　stiff　and



speechless　from　exposure；　and　the　coachman　was　in　not　much　better



plight；　though　he　had　the　strength　to　drive　round　to　the　stables



himself。　　To　my　reproaches　for　venturing　out　at　all　in　such



weather；　she　answered　characteristically　that　she　could　not　bear



the　thought　of　abandoning　me　to　my　cheerless　solitude。　　It　is



incomprehensible　how　it　was　that　she　was　allowed　to　start。　　I



suppose　it　had　to　be！　　She　made　light　of　the　cough　which　came　on



next　day；　but　shortly　afterwards　inflammation　of　the　lungs　set



in；　and　in　three　weeks　she　was　no　more！　　She　was　the　first　to　be



taken　away　of　the　young　generation　under　my　care。　　Behold　the



vanity　of　all　hopes　and　fears！　　I　was　the　most　frail　at　birth　of



all　the　children。　　For　years　I　remained　so　delicate　that　my



parents　had　but　little　hope　of　bringing　me　up；　and　yet　I　have



survived　five　brothers　and　two　sisters；　and　many　of　my



contemporaries；　I　have　outlived　my　wife　and　daughter　tooand



from　all　those　who　have　had　some　knowledge　at　least　of　these　old



times　you　alone　are　left。　　It　has　been　my　lot　to　lay　in　an　early



grave　many　honest　hearts；　many　brilliant　promises；　many　hopes



full　of　life。〃







He　got　up　brusquely；　sighed；　and　left　me；　saying：　　〃We　will　dine



in　half　an　hour。〃　　Without　moving　I　listened　to　his　quick　steps



resounding　on　the　waxed　floor　of　the　next　room；　traversing　the



ante…room　lined　with　bookshelves；　where　he　paused　to　put　his



chibouk　in　the　pipe…stand　before　passing　into　the　drawing…room



（these　were　all　en　suite）；　where　he　became　inaudible　on　the　thick



carpet。　　But　I　heard　the　door　of　his　study…bedroom　close。　　He　was



then　sixty…two　years　old　and　had　been　for　a　quarter　of　a　century



the　wisest；　the　firmest；　the　most　indulgent　of　guardians；



extending　over　me　a　paternal　care　and　affection；　a　moral　support



which　I　seemed　to　feel　always　near　me　in　the　most　distant　parts



of　the　earth。







As　to　Mr。　Nicholas　B。；　sub…lieutenant　of　1808；　lieutenant　of　1813



in　the　French　Army；　and　for　a　short　time　Officier　d'Ordonnance　of



Marshal　Marmont；　afterwards　Captain　in　the　2nd　Regiment　of



Mounted　Rifles　in　the　Polish　Armysuch　as　it　existed　up　to　1830



in　the　reduced　kingdom　established　by　the　Congress　of　ViennaI



must　say　that　from　all　that　more　distant　past；　known　to　me



traditionally　and　a　little　de　visu；　and　called　out　by　the　words



of　the　man　just　gone　away；　he　remains　the　most　incomplete　figure。



It　is　obvious　that　I　must　have　seen　him　in　'64；　for　it　is　certain



that　he　would　not　have　missed　the　opportunity　of　seeing　my　mother



for　what　he　must　have　known　would　be　the　last　time。　　From　my



early　boyhood　to　this　day；　if　I　try　to　call　up　his　image；　a　sort



of　mist　rises　before　my　eyes；　a　mist　in　which　I　perceive　vaguely



only　a　neatly　brushed　head　of　white　hair　（which　is　exceptional　in



the　case　of　the　B。　family；　where　it　is　the　rule　for　men　to　go



bald　in　a　becoming　manner；　before　thirty）　and　a　thin；　curved；



dignified　nose；　a　feature　in　strict　accordance　with　the　physical



tradition　of　the　B。　family。　　But　it　is　not　by　these　fragmentary



remains　of　perishable　mortality　that　he　lives　in　my　memory。　　I



knew；　at　a　very　early　age；　that　my　grand…uncle　Nicholas　B。　was　a



Knight　of　the　Legion　of　Honour　and　that　he　had　also　the　Polish



Cross　for　valour　Virtuti　Militari。　　The　knowledge　of　these



glorious　facts　inspired　in　me　an　admiring　veneration；　yet　it　is



not　that　sentiment；　strong　as　it　was；　which　resumes　for　me　the



force　and　the　significance　of　his　personality。　　It　is　overborne



by　another　and　complex　impression　of　awe；　compassion　and　horror。



Mr。　Nicholas　B。　remains　for　me　the　unfortunate　and　miserable　（but



heroic）　being　who　once　upon　a　time　had　eaten　a　dog。







It　is　a　good　forty　years　since　I　heard　the　tale；　and　the　effect



has　not　worn　off　yet。　　I　believe　this　is　the　very　first；　say；



realistic；　story　I　heard　in　my　life；　but　all　the　same　I　don't



know　why　I　should　have　been　so　frightfully　impressed。　　Of　course



I　know　what