“You will marry, or I will curse you; and as for my possessions, as true as God is holy, I will sell them and squander the money, and not leave you a farthing. I will give you three days to think about the matter; and in the meantime, don’t show yourself in my sight.”
Alexei knew that when his father once took an idea into his head, a nail even would not drive it out, as Taras Skotinin[7] says in the comedy. But Alexei took after his father, and was just as head-strong as he was. He went to his room and began to reflect upon the limits of paternal authority; Then his thoughts reverted to Lizaveta Gregorievna, to his father’s solemn vow to make him a beggar, and last of all to Akoulina. For the first time he saw clearly that he was passionately in love with her; the romantic idea of marrying a peasant girl and of living by the labour of their hands came into his head, and the more he thought of such a decisive step, the more reasonable did it seem to him. For some time the interviews in the wood had ceased on account of the rainy weather. He wrote to Akoulina a letter in his most legible handwriting, informing her of the misfortune that threatened them, and offering her his hand. He took the letter at once to the post-office in the wood, and then went to bed, well satisfied with himself.
The next day Alexei, still firm in his resolution, rode over early in the morning to visit Mouromsky, in order to explain matters frankly to him. He hoped to excite his generosity and win him over to his side.
“Is Gregory Ivanovitch at home?” asked he, stopping his horse in front of the steps of the Priloutchina mansion.
“No,” replied the servant; “Gregory Ivanovitch rode out early this morning, and has not yet returned.”
“How annoying!” thought Alexei.... “Is Lizaveta Gregorievna at home, then?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Alexei sprang from his horse, gave the reins to the lackey, and entered without being announced.
“Everything is now going to be decided,” thought he, directing his steps towards the parlour: “I will explain everything to Lizaveta herself.”
He entered ... and then stood still as if petrified! Liza ... no ... Akoulina, dear, dark-haired Akoulina, no longer in a sarafan, but in a white morning robe, was sitting in front of the window, reading his letter; she was so occupied that she had not heard him enter.