Vera pressed her hand in silence.
“Nikolai Andreevich, do you know what she is?”
“An angel,” answered Vikentev as promptly as a soldier answers his officer.
“An angel,” mimicked Vera laughing, and pointing to a butterfly hovering over a flower. “There is an angel. But if you even touch him the colour of his wings will be spoiled, and he will perhaps even lose a wing. You must spoil her, love and caress her, and God forbid that you ever wound her. If you ever do,” she threatened, smiling, “you will have to reckon with me.”
Within a week of this happy occasion the house was restored to its ordinary routine. Marfa Egorovna drove back to Kolchino, but Vikentev became a daily visitor, and almost a member of the family. He and Marfinka no longer jumped and ran like children, though they occasionally had a lively dispute, half in jest, half in earnest. They sang and read together, and the pure, fresh poetry of youth, plain for all to read, welled up in their frank, unspoiled hearts.
The wedding being fixed for the autumn, preparations for Marfinka’s house-furnishing and trousseau were being gradually pushed forward. From the cupboards of the house were brought old lace, silver and gold plate, glass, linen, furs, pearls, diamonds and all sorts of treasures, to be divided by Tatiana Markovna with Jew-like exactness into two equal shares, with the aid of jewellers, workers in gold, and others.
“That is yours, Vera, and there is Marfinka’s share. You are not to receive a pearl or on ounce more than the other. See for yourselves.”
Vera pushed pearls and diamonds into a heap with a declaration that she needed very little. This only angered Tatiana Markovna, who began the work of division all over again. Raisky sent to his former guardian for the diamonds and silver that had been his mother’s portion, and bestowed these also on the sisters, but his aunt hid the treasure in the depths of her coffers.
“You will want them yourself.” she said, “on the day when you take it into your head to marry.”
The estate with all that belonged to it he had made over in the names of the sisters, a gift for which each of them thanked him after her fashion. Tatiana Markovna wrinkled her forehead, and looked askance at him, but she could not long maintain this attitude, and ended by embracing him.