“Yes, I thought that my own brain and will were self-sufficing, that I was wiser than you all.”
“You are wiser than I and have more learning,” said Tatiana Markovna, breathing more freely. “God has given you a clear understanding, but you have not my experience.”
Vera thought that she had more experience also, but she merely said, “Take me away from here. There is no Vera any longer. I want to be your Marfinka. Take me away from this old house over there to you.”
The two heads rested side by side on the pillow. They lay in a close embrace and fell asleep.
CHAPTER XXX
Vera rose the next morning pale and exhausted, but without any fever. She had wept out her malady on her grandmother’s breast. The doctor professed himself satisfied, and said she should stay in her room for a few days. Everything in the house went on as before. There were no festivities in honour of Vera’s name day, as she had expressed a wish that there should be none. Neither Marfinka nor the Vikentevs came; a messenger was sent to Kolchino with the announcement that Vera Vassilievna was unwell and was keeping her room. Tushin sent his congratulations in a respectful note, asking for permission to come and see her. Her reply was that he should wait a little until she was better. Under the pretext of Vera’s illness, callers who came from the town to present their congratulations were not admitted. Only the servants celebrated the occasion in their own way; the maids appeared in their gay dresses, and the coachmen and the lackeys got drunk.
Vera and her aunt developed a new relationship. Tatiana Markovna’s consideration for Vera was by no means assumed, but her kindness did not make Vera’s heart lighter. What she had expected and wished was severe judgment, a penance, perhaps exile for half a year or a year to Tatiana Markovna’s distant estate, where she would gradually win back her peace of mind or at any rate forget, if it was true, as Raisky said, that time extinguishes all impressions. “I see,” thought Vera, “that Grandmother suffers inexpressibly. Grief has changed her altogether; her figure is bowed and her face more deeply furrowed. Perhaps she is only sparing me now because her heart has opened itself to pity. She cannot bear to punish me, now that I am ill and repentant.” Vera had lost her pride, her self-respect and her dignity, and if once these flowers are taken out of the crown which adorns the head of man, his doom is at hand. She tried to pray and could not, for she had nothing to pray for, and could only bow her head in humility.
Raisky came into much closer relation with his aunt and Vera. His naturalness and genuine affection, the friendly intimacy of his conversation, his straightforwardness, his talkative humour, and the gleaming play of his fancy were a distraction and a consolation to both of them. He often drew a laugh from them, but he tried in vain to distract them from the grief which hung like a cloud over them both and over the whole house. He himself was sad when he saw that neither his esteem nor Tatiana Markovna’s kindness could give back to poor Vera her courage, her pride, her confidence and her strength of will.