“Broken-hearted and despairing, the starving moujiks filed slowly out of the warm, well-furnished room, and with revenge in their souls sought their own cheerless homes. I endeavoured to mediate on behalf of the poor wretches, but to my supplications my father turned a deaf ear. ‘No, I’ll teach the brutes a lesson,’ he said.
“He kept his word, for within a week the knout fell heavily upon the backs of some of the defaulters. These arbitrary acts nearly caused a revolt, but this was rapidly suppressed by my father, who caused the ringleaders, together with the starosta to receive publicly two hundred lashes, as a warning to all who tried to oppose his authority.
“The weeks passed, the snow disappeared, and spring came.
“My favourite spot was at the bottom of the lower garden, on a little bridge that was thrown over a small swamp. The view was extremely restricted, but very melancholy and pleasing. There was a small pond with overgrown banks, directly behind it was the dense pine forest, and drooping over the pond was an ancient birch clinging to the damp bank with its thick roots, and swaying its curling branches over the unruffled surface of the pool, which gave back the reflection of the drooping boughs and surrounding greenery.
“Seated one afternoon upon an old stump I was smoking, enjoying the bright sunshine and calm solitude, when suddenly I discovered an intruder. Leaning on the railing of the little bridge, with her profile towards me, and looking down into the water, was a young girl. She had evidently forgotten herself, and had no thought that she was being observed. Her large eyes were full of intent observation, of deep clear thought, her pose was unaffected, yet hers was the most beautiful face I had ever seen.
“A tall, graceful figure, well set off by her picturesque peasant dress, tiny hands, delicate and white, a clear, fresh complexion, deep violet eyes with long black lashes, wavy auburn hair, and small white teeth just visible between a pair of lips that seemed made alone for kisses, while her features had that sweet, half-sad expression that is the birth-gift of every Russian woman, rich or poor.
“I rose, and advancing, greeted her. She blushed deeply and appeared confused. Very soon, however, we were chatting in friendly manner, and she told me her name was Natiónka, and that she was the daughter of old Savischnoff, one of my father’s serfs.
“After an hour’s pleasant gossip I walked with her to her home, a small, lonely cottage in the heart of the forest, five versts along the road to Seniki. Had she been of noble birth she could not have treated me with more queenly reserve, and before I bade her good-bye we had arranged to meet on the morrow.
“From that time I waited for her daily in a secluded part of the forest, into which no one ever penetrated. As you may well guess I fell violently in love with her, even though she was but the daughter of a poor wood-cutter. We kept our secret, meeting clandestinely with only the chattering birds in the trees above as witnesses. As a token of affection I had given her a small heart-shaped locket of blue malachite set round with diamonds and containing my miniature. This she wore concealed in the breast of her dress.
“So four months passed—bright months, sunny months. I adored her with all my being, and she, in return, loved me passionately.”