III
And so, having finished, or half finished, her studies, Mimotchka returns home a grown-up young lady, and wears long dresses.
Life meets her with a smile of welcome. Mimotchka begins to "go out." She dances and amuses herself.... Balls are succeeded by theatres, theatres by concerts, picnics, and assaults-at-arms.... In the intervals reading, chocolat mignon, and dreams of Maurice.
Meanwhile mamma, having passed through the hard school of life, and knowing that her daughter will not eternally remain a butterfly, fluttering over the fields, is already occupied with the question of how to settle Mimotchka advantageously in life. Mamma dreams of finding a husband for Mimotchka, rich, in society, and in the Government service, with a title, if possible, and of good family. Mimotchka must make a brilliant marriage. All her education had been conducted with that object. Otherwise what would have been the use of paying extravagant sums to dancing and writing masters, what would have been the use of taking the girl abroad and of sending her to Mdlle. Dudu's classes? Only think what it had all cost! Yes, Mimotchka's parents could indeed say that they had spared no expense for the education and instruction of their only daughter.
Mimotchka knows all the best shops in Petersburg; perhaps even she knows the best shops in Paris, London, and Vienna besides; she knows how to spend money, knows how to dress, and how to behave in society. Now a husband must be found for her who can give her full opportunity of displaying her acquirements in all their splendour, who can surround her with becoming surroundings, and be worthy of receiving from mamma's hands that hothouse flower and plant it in the soil of married life.
Mimotchka expects it herself. She still dreams of love and of Maurice, but, all the same, she knows that the chief thing is—money: that without a carriage, without becoming surroundings, and without toilettes, she would not care about love.
Mimotchka knows that she is une demoiselle à marier, but she also knows that she is still young, that she is quite a "child," and as she is "a child" she waltzes, smiles, and plays with her fan and her innocent eyes.
... How artful young men are nowadays! How difficult it is to bring them to the point! Oh, if only Maurice had been amongst them, he would have prized Mimotchka; he would have chosen her without looking into poor papa's purse. But only try and find such a young man!
And meanwhile time flies.... The poor girl is already obliged to take quinine and iron. These intoxicating balls, these sleepless nights—all this tires her out.
And so, reader, imagine the moment when Mimotchka, her first freshness past, begins to get thin and lose her beauty; the doctor, a friend of the family, who is tired of prescribing arsenic, iron, and pepsine gratis, orders the young lady to some foreign watering-place; there is no money to be got anywhere; the dress-makers refuse to make even the simplest travelling dress on credit.... Then imagine how it would be if, at such a moment, unpleasant in itself, some catastrophe were to happen: supposing one of the parents were to fall dangerously ill, or the father be dismissed in disgrace from the service in consequence of the discovery of some unlawful transactions; or supposing he were to die, leaving his family a small pension and unpaid debts.... It matters little what it is exactly that happens.... But there is nothing to guarantee that such things will not happen.
In our Mimotchka's life the catastrophe was her poor papa's death. He died, leaving his wife a pension and debts, the sum of which had latterly considerably increased on account of the expenses of the trousseau. Mamma simply did not know what to do with the creditors, who seemed to creep out of every crevice. The faithless fiancé had broken off the marriage, and, having bought Mimotchka's furniture for a mere song, had relapsed into complete silence. Indirectly, a little later on, mamma heard a rumour that he was going to marry the daughter of the Governor of N——.
The position of the poor women was in all respects terrible. There was literally not a copeck in the house. Mamma tore her hair and anathematised the faithless, good-for-nothing bridegroom. The aunts comforted and condoled with her, but among themselves they could not help rather blaming poor mamma.
"Of course Annette's position is awful," said Aunt Mary, "but one can't but say that she herself is to blame. What was the use of ordering such a trousseau when they were already so badly off? There is nothing to eat in the house, and Mimotchka has linen like a princess! And into whose eyes did they expect to throw dust by it?"
"Yes, of course, they themselves are to blame," agreed Aunt Sophy, "but, all the same, I am sorry for poor Mimotchka. She has been so spoilt; and who knows what yet awaits her in the future! It may end by her having to go out as a governess."
"I gave them a hundred roubles to-day," said Aunt Julia, in conclusion, "but I can't give every day. If I were only to count up all I have already given ..."
Mimotchka's personal wants were but little affected; as before, she had everything necessary for her toilet, her silk stockings, her chocolate and French novels. But the irritatingly dejected aspect of mamma, her tearful explanations with the aunts, the scenes with the sharp French fournisseurs, demanding more and more money, could not fail to make a disagreeable impression on the young girl.
And Mimotchka was sulky and capricious. She refused to take her iron because she had been told it spoiled the teeth, and purposely refused to eat the underdone rump-steak ordered for her, purposely ate nothing but chocolat praliné. She gave up reading novels, gave up doing crochet, gave up washing and combing her dog and teasing it—in a word, she threw aside all her usual occupations and—sulked. Now Mimotchka lay on the sofa for whole days together, her arms supporting her head, or stood looking aimlessly out of the window. On account of her mourning she did not go out. She was so dull! Mimotchka was sorry that her marriage had been broken off. Not that she had particularly cared for her fiancé, oh no! She had liked many of her other dancers a great deal better.... And besides, she had been told that he was "a good-for-nothing fellow," which she could not but repeat because she Was accustomed to believe her mamma and aunts in everything. But, good-for-nothing fellow or not, she was sorry that she was not married. If you only knew how sick she was of all these reproaches, questions, and condolences!... Sick of all her girlish pink and white frocks, of her little gold cross and the string of pearls round her neck.... How near had been the married woman's little caps, diamonds, and velvet dresses, and the freedom from mamma's guardianship, and how suddenly it had all flown away, all fallen into ruins!
Mimotchka sulked, was capricious, and longed for some change, some way out of her present position. Mamma also longed for some way out of their difficulties, and spent her nights in prayers, tears, and dreams, either of a fresh bridegroom appearing as a deliverer, or of an unexpected inheritance, or of winning the great lottery prize of two hundred thousand roubles.