Day was just breaking. The town was still wrapped in sleep, and a low mist merged the city with the river. It was early autumn. There was peace everywhere but in my heart; there, the elements were raging, and life grappled with death for supremacy. “What shall I say to Yasha? What will our friends think of me? A prostitute!” pierced my mind poignantly. “No, that must never happen. Death is my only escape.”
I wandered about the streets for a while, until I found a grocer’s shop open, and I purchased there thirty kopek’s worth of essence of vinegar. Entering my lodging, I was met by the question:
“Where have you been? Maria Leontievna, where did you sleep last night?” My appearance in itself was enough to arouse suspicion. Without answering, I rushed into my room and locked the door. After offering my last prayers, I resolutely drank up all the poison, and was soon writhing in agony.
At the same time, about ten in the morning, Yasha was released from prison and given five hundred roubles for the establishment of a butcher’s shop. In high spirits, he made his way to my lodging, completely unaware of what had befallen me. It was only when he arrived at the house that he observed an unusual commotion. The door of my room had been broken in when my moans were heard. The poison had scorched my mouth and throat as if with a flame, and I was found unconscious on the floor, and only recovering my senses after I had been removed to the hospital. Around me stood Yasha, some nurses, and a physician who was pouring something down my throat. I could not speak, although I understood all that was going on in the room. I had lost so much blood, the doctor explained to Yasha, in reply to his anxious questions, that my recovery was very doubtful. “Only a person of unusually powerful constitution could emerge alive from such an ordeal,” he added.
For two weeks I hovered between life and death, suffering agonizing pains, writhing in breathless convulsions that choked my breathing. I was fed only on milk, introduced into my throat through a tube. For a month I was incapable of speech, at the end of which time I was out of danger, but I had to spend another month in the hospital before I regained my normal health.
Yasha could not, at first, understand the reason for my act. The Governor was so kind, so generous. He had not only commuted his sentence, but had given us five hundred roubles for a shop. Could there be anything more noble? He finally arrived at the conclusion that the trials of the last year had resulted in a temporary mental derangement, which was responsible for my attempt at suicide. I did not disillusion him, although I was tempted to do so whenever be praised the Governor.
Upon leaving the hospital, we opened the butcher’s shop and immediately began to do good business. For several months we led a peaceful life. Then, one afternoon, the Governor suddenly called at our shop, ostensibly to inquire how we were prospering. He stretched out his hand to me, but I turned away.
The Governor left, and Yasha raged at me for my inexplicable conduct. Had I gone mad? I must have, to be capable of refusing to greet our benefactor, the kindest of men! I was sullen and silent, but Yasha would not be satisfied. He demanded an explanation. There was nothing left for me to do but to make a clean breast of it, which I did.
The truth was such a shock to him that it threw him into convulsions. He struck me with something and felled me to the floor. His face turned chalk-white, the veins stood out on his temples, and he was trembling all over. He seemed utterly prostrated by the horror of this nightmare. The Governor’s liberality was now explained. The five hundred roubles, the commutation of his sentence, it had all been dearly paid for by his beloved.
My attempted suicide now appeared to him in its true light. He would take vengeance. He would kill the Governor, he swore, yes, he would murder that most despicable of villains. I hugged his feet and begged him not to attempt to carry out his threat. He paid no heed to my prayers, and talked of the hollowness of his life if he did not avenge me.