Dowd Siobhan - The London Eye Mystery 32 page

money. She stared at the gold eye-glass which Pyotr Petrovitch held

in his left hand and at the massive and extremely handsome ring with a

yellow stone on his middle finger. But suddenly she looked away and, not

knowing where to turn, ended by staring Pyotr Petrovitch again straight

in the face. After a pause of still greater dignity he continued.

"I chanced yesterday in passing to exchange a couple of words with

Katerina Ivanovna, poor woman. That was sufficient to enable me to

ascertain that she is in a position--preternatural, if one may so

express it."

"Yes... preternatural..." Sonia hurriedly assented.

"Or it would be simpler and more comprehensible to say, ill."

"Yes, simpler and more comprehen... yes, ill."

"Quite so. So then from a feeling of humanity and so to speak

compassion, I should be glad to be of service to her in any way,

foreseeing her unfortunate position. I believe the whole of this

poverty-stricken family depends now entirely on you?"

"Allow me to ask," Sonia rose to her feet, "did you say something to her

yesterday of the possibility of a pension? Because she told me you had

undertaken to get her one. Was that true?"

"Not in the slightest, and indeed it's an absurdity! I merely hinted at

her obtaining temporary assistance as the widow of an official who had

died in the service--if only she has patronage... but apparently your

late parent had not served his full term and had not indeed been in the

service at all of late. In fact, if there could be any hope, it would be

very ephemeral, because there would be no claim for assistance in

that case, far from it.... And she is dreaming of a pension already,

he-he-he!... A go-ahead lady!"

"Yes, she is. For she is credulous and good-hearted, and she believes

everything from the goodness of her heart and... and... and she is like

that... yes... You must excuse her," said Sonia, and again she got up to

go.

"But you haven't heard what I have to say."

"No, I haven't heard," muttered Sonia.

"Then sit down." She was terribly confused; she sat down again a third

time.

"Seeing her position with her unfortunate little ones, I should be glad,

as I have said before, so far as lies in my power, to be of service,

that is, so far as is in my power, not more. One might for instance get

up a subscription for her, or a lottery, something of the sort, such as

is always arranged in such cases by friends or even outsiders desirous

of assisting people. It was of that I intended to speak to you; it might

be done."

"Yes, yes... God will repay you for it," faltered Sonia, gazing intently

at Pyotr Petrovitch.

"It might be, but we will talk of it later. We might begin it to-day, we

will talk it over this evening and lay the foundation so to speak. Come

to me at seven o'clock. Mr. Lebeziatnikov, I hope, will assist us. But

there is one circumstance of which I ought to warn you beforehand and

for which I venture to trouble you, Sofya Semyonovna, to come here. In

my opinion money cannot be, indeed it's unsafe to put it into Katerina

Ivanovna's own hands. The dinner to-day is a proof of that. Though she

has not, so to speak, a crust of bread for to-morrow and... well, boots

or shoes, or anything; she has bought to-day Jamaica rum, and even,

I believe, Madeira and... and coffee. I saw it as I passed through.

To-morrow it will all fall upon you again, they won't have a crust of

bread. It's absurd, really, and so, to my thinking, a subscription ought

to be raised so that the unhappy widow should not know of the money, but

only you, for instance. Am I right?"

"I don't know... this is only to-day, once in her life.... She was

so anxious to do honour, to celebrate the memory.... And she is very

sensible... but just as you think and I shall be very, very... they will

all be... and God will reward... and the orphans..."

Sonia burst into tears.

"Very well, then, keep it in mind; and now will you accept for the

benefit of your relation the small sum that I am able to spare, from me

personally. I am very anxious that my name should not be mentioned in

connection with it. Here... having so to speak anxieties of my own, I

cannot do more..."

And Pyotr Petrovitch held out to Sonia a ten-rouble note carefully

unfolded. Sonia took it, flushed crimson, jumped up, muttered something

and began taking leave. Pyotr Petrovitch accompanied her ceremoniously

to the door. She got out of the room at last, agitated and distressed,

and returned to Katerina Ivanovna, overwhelmed with confusion.

All this time Lebeziatnikov had stood at the window or walked about the

room, anxious not to interrupt the conversation; when Sonia had gone he

walked up to Pyotr Petrovitch and solemnly held out his hand.

"I heard and _saw_ everything," he said, laying stress on the last verb.

"That is honourable, I mean to say, it's humane! You wanted to avoid

gratitude, I saw! And although I cannot, I confess, in principle

sympathise with private charity, for it not only fails to eradicate the

evil but even promotes it, yet I must admit that I saw your action with

pleasure--yes, yes, I like it."

"That's all nonsense," muttered Pyotr Petrovitch, somewhat disconcerted,

looking carefully at Lebeziatnikov.

"No, it's not nonsense! A man who has suffered distress and annoyance as

you did yesterday and who yet can sympathise with the misery of others,

such a man... even though he is making a social mistake--is still

deserving of respect! I did not expect it indeed of you, Pyotr

Petrovitch, especially as according to your ideas... oh, what a drawback

your ideas are to you! How distressed you are for instance by your

ill-luck yesterday," cried the simple-hearted Lebeziatnikov, who felt

a return of affection for Pyotr Petrovitch. "And, what do you want with

marriage, with _legal_ marriage, my dear, noble Pyotr Petrovitch? Why do

you cling to this _legality_ of marriage? Well, you may beat me if you

like, but I am glad, positively glad it hasn't come off, that you are

free, that you are not quite lost for humanity.... you see, I've spoken

my mind!"

"Because I don't want in your free marriage to be made a fool of and

to bring up another man's children, that's why I want legal marriage,"

Luzhin replied in order to make some answer.

He seemed preoccupied by something.

"Children? You referred to children," Lebeziatnikov started off like

a warhorse at the trumpet call. "Children are a social question and a

question of first importance, I agree; but the question of children has

another solution. Some refuse to have children altogether, because they

suggest the institution of the family. We'll speak of children later,

but now as to the question of honour, I confess that's my weak point.

That horrid, military, Pushkin expression is unthinkable in the

dictionary of the future. What does it mean indeed? It's nonsense,

there will be no deception in a free marriage! That is only the natural

consequence of a legal marriage, so to say, its corrective, a protest.

So that indeed it's not humiliating... and if I ever, to suppose an

absurdity, were to be legally married, I should be positively glad of

it. I should say to my wife: 'My dear, hitherto I have loved you, now

I respect you, for you've shown you can protest!' You laugh! That's

because you are of incapable of getting away from prejudices. Confound

it all! I understand now where the unpleasantness is of being deceived

in a legal marriage, but it's simply a despicable consequence of a

despicable position in which both are humiliated. When the deception is

open, as in a free marriage, then it does not exist, it's unthinkable.

Your wife will only prove how she respects you by considering you

incapable of opposing her happiness and avenging yourself on her for

her new husband. Damn it all! I sometimes dream if I were to be married,

pfoo! I mean if I were to marry, legally or not, it's just the same,

I should present my wife with a lover if she had not found one for

herself. 'My dear,' I should say, 'I love you, but even more than that I

desire you to respect me. See!' Am I not right?"

Pyotr Petrovitch sniggered as he listened, but without much merriment.

He hardly heard it indeed. He was preoccupied with something else and

even Lebeziatnikov at last noticed it. Pyotr Petrovitch seemed excited

and rubbed his hands. Lebeziatnikov remembered all this and reflected

upon it afterwards.

CHAPTER II

It would be difficult to explain exactly what could have originated the

idea of that senseless dinner in Katerina Ivanovna's disordered brain.

Nearly ten of the twenty roubles, given by Raskolnikov for Marmeladov's

funeral, were wasted upon it. Possibly Katerina Ivanovna felt obliged to

honour the memory of the deceased "suitably," that all the lodgers,

and still more Amalia Ivanovna, might know "that he was in no way their

inferior, and perhaps very much their superior," and that no one had the

right "to turn up his nose at him." Perhaps the chief element was that

peculiar "poor man's pride," which compels many poor people to spend

their last savings on some traditional social ceremony, simply in order

to do "like other people," and not to "be looked down upon." It is very

probable, too, that Katerina Ivanovna longed on this occasion, at

the moment when she seemed to be abandoned by everyone, to show those

"wretched contemptible lodgers" that she knew "how to do things, how

to entertain" and that she had been brought up "in a genteel, she might

almost say aristocratic colonel's family" and had not been meant for

sweeping floors and washing the children's rags at night. Even the

poorest and most broken-spirited people are sometimes liable to these

paroxysms of pride and vanity which take the form of an irresistible

nervous craving. And Katerina Ivanovna was not broken-spirited; she

might have been killed by circumstance, but her spirit could not have

been broken, that is, she could not have been intimidated, her will

could not be crushed. Moreover Sonia had said with good reason that her

mind was unhinged. She could not be said to be insane, but for a year

past she had been so harassed that her mind might well be overstrained.

The later stages of consumption are apt, doctors tell us, to affect the

intellect.

There was no great variety of wines, nor was there Madeira; but wine

there was. There was vodka, rum and Lisbon wine, all of the poorest

quality but in sufficient quantity. Besides the traditional rice and

honey, there were three or four dishes, one of which consisted of

pancakes, all prepared in Amalia Ivanovna's kitchen. Two samovars were

boiling, that tea and punch might be offered after dinner. Katerina

Ivanovna had herself seen to purchasing the provisions, with the help

of one of the lodgers, an unfortunate little Pole who had somehow been

stranded at Madame Lippevechsel's. He promptly put himself at Katerina

Ivanovna's disposal and had been all that morning and all the day before

running about as fast as his legs could carry him, and very anxious

that everyone should be aware of it. For every trifle he ran to Katerina

Ivanovna, even hunting her out at the bazaar, at every instant called

her "_Pani_." She was heartily sick of him before the end, though

she had declared at first that she could not have got on without this

"serviceable and magnanimous man." It was one of Katerina Ivanovna's

characteristics to paint everyone she met in the most glowing colours.

Her praises were so exaggerated as sometimes to be embarrassing; she

would invent various circumstances to the credit of her new acquaintance

and quite genuinely believe in their reality. Then all of a sudden she

would be disillusioned and would rudely and contemptuously repulse the

person she had only a few hours before been literally adoring. She

was naturally of a gay, lively and peace-loving disposition, but from

continual failures and misfortunes she had come to desire so _keenly_

that all should live in peace and joy and should not _dare_ to break the

peace, that the slightest jar, the smallest disaster reduced her almost

to frenzy, and she would pass in an instant from the brightest hopes and

fancies to cursing her fate and raving, and knocking her head against

the wall.

Amalia Ivanovna, too, suddenly acquired extraordinary importance in

Katerina Ivanovna's eyes and was treated by her with extraordinary

respect, probably only because Amalia Ivanovna had thrown herself heart

and soul into the preparations. She had undertaken to lay the table,

to provide the linen, crockery, etc., and to cook the dishes in her

kitchen, and Katerina Ivanovna had left it all in her hands and gone

herself to the cemetery. Everything had been well done. Even the

table-cloth was nearly clean; the crockery, knives, forks and glasses

were, of course, of all shapes and patterns, lent by different lodgers,

but the table was properly laid at the time fixed, and Amalia Ivanovna,

feeling she had done her work well, had put on a black silk dress and

a cap with new mourning ribbons and met the returning party with some

pride. This pride, though justifiable, displeased Katerina Ivanovna for

some reason: "as though the table could not have been laid except by

Amalia Ivanovna!" She disliked the cap with new ribbons, too. "Could she

be stuck up, the stupid German, because she was mistress of the house,

and had consented as a favour to help her poor lodgers! As a favour!

Fancy that! Katerina Ivanovna's father who had been a colonel and almost

a governor had sometimes had the table set for forty persons, and then

anyone like Amalia Ivanovna, or rather Ludwigovna, would not have been

allowed into the kitchen."

Katerina Ivanovna, however, put off expressing her feelings for the

time and contented herself with treating her coldly, though she decided

inwardly that she would certainly have to put Amalia Ivanovna down

and set her in her proper place, for goodness only knew what she was

fancying herself. Katerina Ivanovna was irritated too by the fact that

hardly any of the lodgers invited had come to the funeral, except

the Pole who had just managed to run into the cemetery, while to the

memorial dinner the poorest and most insignificant of them had turned

up, the wretched creatures, many of them not quite sober. The older

and more respectable of them all, as if by common consent, stayed away.

Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin, for instance, who might be said to be the most

respectable of all the lodgers, did not appear, though Katerina Ivanovna

had the evening before told all the world, that is Amalia Ivanovna,

Polenka, Sonia and the Pole, that he was the most generous,

noble-hearted man with a large property and vast connections, who had

been a friend of her first husband's, and a guest in her father's

house, and that he had promised to use all his influence to secure her

a considerable pension. It must be noted that when Katerina Ivanovna

exalted anyone's connections and fortune, it was without any ulterior

motive, quite disinterestedly, for the mere pleasure of adding to

the consequence of the person praised. Probably "taking his cue" from

Luzhin, "that contemptible wretch Lebeziatnikov had not turned up

either. What did he fancy himself? He was only asked out of kindness

and because he was sharing the same room with Pyotr Petrovitch and was a

friend of his, so that it would have been awkward not to invite him."

Among those who failed to appear were "the genteel lady and her

old-maidish daughter," who had only been lodgers in the house for the

last fortnight, but had several times complained of the noise and uproar

in Katerina Ivanovna's room, especially when Marmeladov had come

back drunk. Katerina Ivanovna heard this from Amalia Ivanovna who,

quarrelling with Katerina Ivanovna, and threatening to turn the whole

family out of doors, had shouted at her that they "were not worth the

foot" of the honourable lodgers whom they were disturbing. Katerina

Ivanovna determined now to invite this lady and her daughter, "whose

foot she was not worth," and who had turned away haughtily when she

casually met them, so that they might know that "she was more noble in

her thoughts and feelings and did not harbour malice," and might see

that she was not accustomed to her way of living. She had proposed to

make this clear to them at dinner with allusions to her late father's

governorship, and also at the same time to hint that it was exceedingly

stupid of them to turn away on meeting her. The fat colonel-major (he

was really a discharged officer of low rank) was also absent, but it

appeared that he had been "not himself" for the last two days. The party

consisted of the Pole, a wretched looking clerk with a spotty face and

a greasy coat, who had not a word to say for himself, and smelt

abominably, a deaf and almost blind old man who had once been in the

post office and who had been from immemorial ages maintained by someone

at Amalia Ivanovna's.

A retired clerk of the commissariat department came, too; he was

drunk, had a loud and most unseemly laugh and only fancy--was without

a waistcoat! One of the visitors sat straight down to the table without

even greeting Katerina Ivanovna. Finally one person having no suit

appeared in his dressing-gown, but this was too much, and the efforts of

Amalia Ivanovna and the Pole succeeded in removing him. The Pole brought

with him, however, two other Poles who did not live at Amalia Ivanovna's

and whom no one had seen here before. All this irritated Katerina

Ivanovna intensely. "For whom had they made all these preparations

then?" To make room for the visitors the children had not even been laid

for at the table; but the two little ones were sitting on a bench in the

furthest corner with their dinner laid on a box, while Polenka as a big

girl had to look after them, feed them, and keep their noses wiped like

well-bred children's.

Katerina Ivanovna, in fact, could hardly help meeting her guests with

increased dignity, and even haughtiness. She stared at some of them with

special severity, and loftily invited them to take their seats. Rushing

to the conclusion that Amalia Ivanovna must be responsible for those who

were absent, she began treating her with extreme nonchalance, which the

latter promptly observed and resented. Such a beginning was no good omen

for the end. All were seated at last.

Raskolnikov came in almost at the moment of their return from the

cemetery. Katerina Ivanovna was greatly delighted to see him, in the

first place, because he was the one "educated visitor, and, as everyone

knew, was in two years to take a professorship in the university," and

secondly because he immediately and respectfully apologised for having

been unable to be at the funeral. She positively pounced upon him, and

made him sit on her left hand (Amalia Ivanovna was on her right). In

spite of her continual anxiety that the dishes should be passed round

correctly and that everyone should taste them, in spite of the agonising

cough which interrupted her every minute and seemed to have grown worse

during the last few days, she hastened to pour out in a half whisper to

Raskolnikov all her suppressed feelings and her just indignation at

the failure of the dinner, interspersing her remarks with lively and

uncontrollable laughter at the expense of her visitors and especially of

her landlady.

"It's all that cuckoo's fault! You know whom I mean? Her, her!" Katerina

Ivanovna nodded towards the landlady. "Look at her, she's making round

eyes, she feels that we are talking about her and can't understand.

Pfoo, the owl! Ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.) And what does she put on that

cap for? (Cough-cough-cough.) Have you noticed that she wants everyone

to consider that she is patronising me and doing me an honour by being

here? I asked her like a sensible woman to invite people, especially

those who knew my late husband, and look at the set of fools she has

brought! The sweeps! Look at that one with the spotty face. And those

wretched Poles, ha-ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.) Not one of them has ever

poked his nose in here, I've never set eyes on them. What have they come

here for, I ask you? There they sit in a row. Hey, _pan_!" she cried

suddenly to one of them, "have you tasted the pancakes? Take some more!

Have some beer! Won't you have some vodka? Look, he's jumped up and is

making his bows, they must be quite starved, poor things. Never mind,

let them eat! They don't make a noise, anyway, though I'm really afraid

for our landlady's silver spoons... Amalia Ivanovna!" she addressed her

suddenly, almost aloud, "if your spoons should happen to be stolen,

I won't be responsible, I warn you! Ha-ha-ha!" She laughed turning to

Raskolnikov, and again nodding towards the landlady, in high glee at her

sally. "She didn't understand, she didn't understand again! Look how

she sits with her mouth open! An owl, a real owl! An owl in new ribbons,

ha-ha-ha!"

Here her laugh turned again to an insufferable fit of coughing that

lasted five minutes. Drops of perspiration stood out on her forehead

and her handkerchief was stained with blood. She showed Raskolnikov

the blood in silence, and as soon as she could get her breath began

whispering to him again with extreme animation and a hectic flush on her

cheeks.

"Do you know, I gave her the most delicate instructions, so to speak,

for inviting that lady and her daughter, you understand of whom I am

speaking? It needed the utmost delicacy, the greatest nicety, but she

has managed things so that that fool, that conceited baggage, that

provincial nonentity, simply because she is the widow of a major, and

has come to try and get a pension and to fray out her skirts in the

government offices, because at fifty she paints her face (everybody

knows it)... a creature like that did not think fit to come, and has

not even answered the invitation, which the most ordinary good manners

required! I can't understand why Pyotr Petrovitch has not come? But

where's Sonia? Where has she gone? Ah, there she is at last! what is it,

Sonia, where have you been? It's odd that even at your father's funeral

you should be so unpunctual. Rodion Romanovitch, make room for her

beside you. That's your place, Sonia... take what you like. Have some of

the cold entree with jelly, that's the best. They'll bring the pancakes

directly. Have they given the children some? Polenka, have you got

everything? (Cough-cough-cough.) That's all right. Be a good girl, Lida,

and, Kolya, don't fidget with your feet; sit like a little gentleman.

What are you saying, Sonia?"

Sonia hastened to give her Pyotr Petrovitch's apologies, trying to

speak loud enough for everyone to hear and carefully choosing the most

respectful phrases which she attributed to Pyotr Petrovitch. She added

that Pyotr Petrovitch had particularly told her to say that, as soon as

he possibly could, he would come immediately to discuss _business_ alone

with her and to consider what could be done for her, etc., etc.

Sonia knew that this would comfort Katerina Ivanovna, would flatter her

and gratify her pride. She sat down beside Raskolnikov; she made him a

hurried bow, glancing curiously at him. But for the rest of the time

she seemed to avoid looking at him or speaking to him. She seemed

absent-minded, though she kept looking at Katerina Ivanovna, trying

to please her. Neither she nor Katerina Ivanovna had been able to get

mourning; Sonia was wearing dark brown, and Katerina Ivanovna had on her

only dress, a dark striped cotton one.

The message from Pyotr Petrovitch was very successful. Listening to

Sonia with dignity, Katerina Ivanovna inquired with equal dignity how

Pyotr Petrovitch was, then at once whispered almost aloud to

Raskolnikov that it certainly would have been strange for a man of

Pyotr Petrovitch's position and standing to find himself in such

"extraordinary company," in spite of his devotion to her family and his

old friendship with her father.

"That's why I am so grateful to you, Rodion Romanovitch, that you have

not disdained my hospitality, even in such surroundings," she added

almost aloud. "But I am sure that it was only your special affection for

my poor husband that has made you keep your promise."

Then once more with pride and dignity she scanned her visitors, and

suddenly inquired aloud across the table of the deaf man: "Wouldn't he

have some more meat, and had he been given some wine?" The old man made

no answer and for a long while could not understand what he was asked,

though his neighbours amused themselves by poking and shaking him. He

simply gazed about him with his mouth open, which only increased the

general mirth.

"What an imbecile! Look, look! Why was he brought? But as to Pyotr

Petrovitch, I always had confidence in him," Katerina Ivanovna

continued, "and, of course, he is not like..." with an extremely stern

face she addressed Amalia Ivanovna so sharply and loudly that the latter

was quite disconcerted, "not like your dressed up draggletails whom

my father would not have taken as cooks into his kitchen, and my late

husband would have done them honour if he had invited them in the

goodness of his heart."

"Yes, he was fond of drink, he was fond of it, he did drink!" cried the

commissariat clerk, gulping down his twelfth glass of vodka.

"My late husband certainly had that weakness, and everyone knows

it," Katerina Ivanovna attacked him at once, "but he was a kind and

honourable man, who loved and respected his family. The worst of it was

his good nature made him trust all sorts of disreputable people, and he

drank with fellows who were not worth the sole of his shoe. Would you

believe it, Rodion Romanovitch, they found a gingerbread cock in his

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 683