The Daughter of the Commandant
Page 4
CHAPTER IV.
THE DUEL.
Several weeks passed, during which my life in Fort Belogorsk became notmerely endurable, but even pleasant. I was received like one of thefamily in the household of the Commandant. The husband and wife wereexcellent people. Ivan Kouzmitch, who had been a child of the regiment,had become an officer, and was a simple, uneducated man, but good andtrue. His wife led him completely, which, by the way, very well suitedhis natural laziness.
It was Vassilissa Igorofna who directed all military business as shedid that of her household, and commanded in the little fort as she didin her house. Marya Ivanofna soon ceased being shy, and we became betteracquainted. I found her a warm-hearted and sensible girl. By degrees Ibecame attached to this honest family, even to Iwan Ignatiitch, theone-eyed lieutenant, whom Chvabrine accused of secret intrigue withVassilissa Igorofna, an accusation which had not even a shadow ofprobability. But that did not matter to Chvabrine.
I became an officer. My work did not weigh heavily upon me. In thisheaven-blest fort there was no drill to do, no guard to mount, norreview to pass. Sometimes the Commandant instructed his soldiers for hisown pleasure. But he had not yet succeeded in teaching them to knowtheir right hand from their left. Chvabrine had some French books; Itook to reading, and I acquired a taste for literature. In the morning Iused to read, and I tried my hand at translations, sometimes even atcompositions in verse. Nearly every day I dined at the Commandant's,where I usually passed the rest of the day. In the evening, FatherGarasim used to drop in, accompanied by his wife, Akoulina, who was thesturdiest gossip of the neighbourhood. It is scarcely necessary to saythat every day we met, Chvabrine and I. Still hour by hour hisconversation pleased me less. His everlasting jokes about theCommandant's family, and, above all, his witty remarks upon MaryaIvanofna, displeased me very much. I had no other society but that ofthis family within the little fort, but I did not want any other.
In spite of all the prophecies, the Bashkirs did not revolt. Peacereigned around our little fort. But this peace was suddenly troubled bywar within.
I have already said I dabbled a little in literature. My attempts weretolerable for the time, and Soumarokoff[43] himself did justice to themmany years later. One day I happened to write a little song whichpleased me. It is well-known that under colour of asking advice, authorswillingly seek a benevolent listener; I copied out my little song, andtook it to Chvabrine, the only person in the fort who could appreciate apoetical work.
After a short preface, I drew my manuscript from my pocket, and read tohim the following verses:[44]
"By waging war with thoughts of love I try to forget my beauty; Alas! by flight from Masha, I hope my freedom to regain!
"But the eyes which enslaved me are ever before me. My soul have they troubled and ruined my rest.
"Oh! Masha, who knowest my sorrows, Seeing me in this miserable plight, Take pity on thy captive."
"What do you think of that?" I said to Chvabrine, expecting praise as atribute due to me. But to my great displeasure Chvabrine, who usuallyshowed kindness, told me flatly my song was worth nothing.
"Why?" I asked, trying to hide my vexation.
"Because such verses," replied he, "are only worthy of my masterTrediakofski,[45] and, indeed, remind me very much of his little eroticcouplets."
He took the MSS. from my hand and began unmercifully criticizing eachverse, each word, cutting me up in the most spiteful way. That was toomuch for me; I snatched the MSS. out of his hands, and declared thatnever, no never, would I ever again show him one of my compositions.Chvabrine did not laugh the less at this threat.