CHAPTER X.
Although Alexis did not expect to find letters from home, as he had returned from his hunting expedition earlier than he anticipated, still, on his arrival at Yakutsk, he went to the office where they were to be deposited, if any had come. To his great joy he there found two letters, and on looking at them, recognised the hand-writing of his father upon one, and that of Kathinka on the other. His heart beat quick, as he hurried home to read them alone; in his room. With mingled feelings of hope and fear—of pleasure that he could thus hold communion with his dearest friends—of pain that he was separated from them by thousands of miles—he broke the seal of that which was superscribed with his father’s hand, and read as follows:
“Tobolsk, —— 18—.
“My dear Alexis,—I embrace a good opportunity to send you letters, and thus to advise you of the state of things here. You will first desire to know how it is with Kathinka and me. We get on more comfortably than I could have hoped. Your sister excites my admiration every day of her life. She is, in the first place, cheerful under circumstances which might naturally beget gloom in the heart of a young lady, brought up in the centre of fashion, surrounded with every luxury, and accustomed to all the soft speeches that beauty could excite, or flattery devise. She is industrious, though bred up in the habit of doing nothing for herself, and of having her slightest wish attended to by the servants. She is humble, though she has been taught from infancy to remember that aristocratic blood flows in her veins. She is patient, though of a quick and sanguine temper.
“Now, my dear son, it is worthy of serious inquiry, what it is that can produce such a beautiful miracle—that can so transform a frail mortal, and raise a woman almost to the level of angels? You will say it is filial love—filial piety—a daughter’s affection for an unhappy father. But you would thus give only half the answer. The affection of a daughter is, indeed, a lovely thing; it is, among other human feelings, like the rose among flowers—the very queen of the race: but it is still more charming when it is exalted by religion. Kathinka derives from this source an inspiration which exalts her beyond the powers of accident. She has never but one question to ask—‘What is my duty?’—and when the answer is given, her decision is made. And she follows her duty with such a bright gleam about her, as to make all happy who are near. That sour, solemn, martyr-like air, with which some good people do their duty, and which makes them, all the time, very disagreeable, is never to be seen in your sister.
“And, what is strange to tell, her health seems rather to be improved by her activity and her toil; and, what is still more strange, her beauty is actually heightened since she has tasted sorrow and been made acquainted with grief. The calico frock is really more becoming to her than the velvet and gold gown, which she wore at the famous ‘Liberty ball,’ at Warsaw, and which you admired so much.
“All these things are very gratifying; yet they have their drawbacks. In spite of our poverty and retirement, we find it impossible to screen ourselves wholly from society. I am too feeble—too insignificant—to be cared for; but Kathinka is much sought after, and even courted. Krusenstern, the commander of the castle, is exceedingly kind to both her and me; and his lady has been her most munificent patron. She has bought the little tasteful products of Kathinka’s nimble needle, and paid her most amply for them. In this way we are provided with the means of support.
“It galls me to think that I am thus reduced to dependence upon enemies—upon Russians—upon those who are the authors of all my own and my country’s sorrows; but it is best, perhaps, that it should be so—for often the only way in which God can truly soften the hard heart, is to afflict it in that way which is most bitter. Pride must fall, for it is inconsistent with true penitence; it is an idol set up in the heart in opposition to the true God. We must cease to worship the first—we must pull it down from its pedestal, before we can kneel truly and devoutly to the last.
“Kathinka will tell you all the little details of news. I am bad at that, for my memory fails fast: and, my dear boy—I may as well say it frankly, that I think my days are fast drawing to a close. I have no special disease—but it seems to me that my heart beats feebly, and that the last sands of life are near running out. It may be otherwise—yet so I feel. It is for this reason that I have had some reluctance in giving my consent to a plan for your returning home in a Russian vessel, which is offered to you.
“A young Russian officer, a relative of the princess Lodoiska, by the name of Suvarrow, is going to Okotsk, at the western extremity of Siberia, where he will enter a Russian ship of war, that is to be there; he will take command of a corp of marines on board, and will return home in her. Krusenstern has offered you a passage home in her; and as Suvarrow is a fine fellow, and, I suspect, is disposed to become your brother-in-law, if Kathinka will consent—nothing could be more pleasant or beneficial to you. You will see a good deal of the world, learn the manners and customs of various people, at whose harbors you will touch, and make agreeable, and, perhaps, useful acquaintances on board the ship. These are advantages not to be lightly rejected; and, therefore, if you so decide and accept the offer, I shall not oppose your choice. Indeed, the only thing that makes me waver in my advice, is my fear that I shall not live, and that Kathinka will be left here without a protector. And even if this happens, she is well qualified to take care of herself, for she has a vigor and energy only surpassed by her discretion. After all, the voyage from Okotsk to St. Petersburgh, in Russia, is but a year’s sail, though it requires a passage almost quite around the globe. At all events, even if you do not go with Suvarrow, you can hardly get home in less than a year—so that the time of your absence will not constitute a material objection. Therefore, go, if you prefer it.