She held in her hand a small volume of Púshkin; but during her reading she never once glanced at it…. She was obviously frightened; the little book shook slightly in her fingers. Arátoff also observed the expression of dejection which now overspread her stern features. The first line: "I write to you … what would you more?" she uttered with extreme simplicity, almost ingenuously,—stretching both arms out in front of her with an ingenuous, sincere, helpless gesture. Then she began to hurry a little; but beginning with the line: "Another! Nay! to none on earth could I have given e'er my heart!" she regained her self-possession, and grew animated; and when she reached the words: "All, all life hath been a pledge of faithful meeting thus with thee,"—her hitherto rather dull voice rang out enthusiastically and boldly, and her eyes riveted themselves on Arátoff with a boldness and directness to match. She went on with the same enthusiasm, and only toward the close did her voice again fall, and in it and in her face her previous dejection was again depicted. She made a complete muddle, as the saying is, of the last four lines,—the little volume of Púshkin suddenly slipped from her hands, and she beat a hasty retreat.
The audience set to applauding and recalling her in desperate fashion…. One theological student,—a Little Russian,—among others, bellowed so loudly: "Muíluitch! Muíluitch!"[58] that his neighbour politely and sympathetically begged him to "spare himself, as a future proto-deacon!"[59] But Arátoff immediately rose and betook himself to the entrance. Kupfer overtook him….
"Good gracious, whither art thou going?" he yelled:—"I'll introduce thee to Clara if thou wishest—shall I?"
"No, thanks," hastily replied Arátoff, and set off homeward almost at a run.
V
Strange emotions, which were not clear even to himself, agitated him. In reality, Clara's recitation had not altogether pleased him either … altogether he could not tell precisely why. It had troubled him, that recitation, it had seemed to him harsh, unmelodious…. Somehow it seemed to have broken something within him, to have exerted some sort of violence. And those importunate, persistent, almost insolent glances—what had caused them? What did they signify?
Arátoff's modesty did permit him even a momentary thought that he might have pleased that strange young girl, that he might have inspired her with a sentiment akin to love, to passion!… And he had imagined to himself quite otherwise that as yet unknown woman, that young girl, to whom he would surrender himself wholly, and who would love him, become his bride, his wife…. He rarely dreamed of this: he was chaste both in body and soul;—but the pure image which rose up in his imagination at such times was evoked under another form,—the form of his dead mother, whom he barely remembered, though he cherished her portrait like a sacred treasure. That portrait had been painted in water-colours, in a rather inartistic manner, by a friendly neighbour, but the likeness was striking, as every one averred. The woman, the young girl, whom as yet he did not so much as venture to expect, must possess just such a tender profile, just such kind, bright eyes, just such silky hair, just such a smile, just such a clear understanding….
But this was a black-visaged, swarthy creature, with coarse hair, and a moustache on her lip; she must certainly be bad-tempered, giddy…. "A gipsy" (Arátoff could not devise a worse expression)—what was she to him?
And in the meantime, Arátoff was unable to banish from his mind that black-visaged gipsy, whose singing and recitation and even whose personal appearance were disagreeable to him. He was perplexed, he was angry with himself. Not long before this he had read Walter Scott's romance "Saint Ronan's Well" (there was a complete edition of Walter Scott's works in the library of his father, who revered the English romance-writer as a serious, almost a learned author). The heroine of that romance is named Clara Mowbray. A poet of the '40's, Krásoff, wrote a poem about her, which wound up with the words:
"Unhappy Clara! foolish Clara!
Unhappy Clara Mowbray!"