In a couple of years she might marry again, some duke, perhaps, or a general, maybe a Governor; their own Governor was a widower, and very fond of the ladies! Then she would be the first lady of their province! Why, the very thought of such a thing would be intolerable: in fact, this rumour of Zina's marriage with the prince aroused more irritation in Mordasoff than any other piece of gossip within the memory of man!
People told each other that it was a sin and a shame, that the prince was crazy, that the old man was being deceived, caught, robbed – anything you like; that the prince must be saved from the bloodthirsty talons he had floundered into; that the thing was simply robbery, immorality. And why were any others worse than Zina? Why should not somebody else marry the prince?
Maria Alexandrovna only guessed at all this at present – but that was quite enough. She knew that the whole town would rise up and use all and every means to defeat her ends. Why, they had tried to “confiscate” the prince already; she would have to retrieve him by force, and if she should succeed in luring or forcing him back now, she could not keep him tied to her apron-strings for ever. Again, what was to prevent this whole troop of Mordasoff gossips from coming en masse to her salon, under such a plausible plea, too, that she would not be able to turn them out. She knew well that if kicked out of the door these good people would get in at the window – a thing which had actually happened before now at Mordasoff.
In a word, there was not an hour, not a moment to be lost; and meanwhile things were not even begun. A brilliant idea now struck Maria Alexandrovna. We shall hear what this idea was in its proper place, meanwhile I will only state that my heroine dashed through the streets of Mordasoff, looking like a threatening storm-cloud as she swept along full of the stern and implacable resolve that the prince should come back if she had to drag him, and fight for him; and that all Mordasoff might fall in ruins but she should have her way!
Her first move was successful – it could not have been more so.
She chanced to meet the prince in the street, and carried him off to dinner with her.
If my reader wishes to know how this feat was accomplished with such a circle of enemies about and around her, and how she managed to make such a fool of Mrs. Antipova, then I must be allowed to point out that such a question is an insult to Maria Alexandrovna. As if she were not capable of outwitting any Antipova that ever breathed!
She simply “arrested” the prince at her rival's very door, as he alighted there with Mosgliakoff, in spite of the latter's terror of a scandal, and in spite of everything else; and she popped the old man into the carriage beside her. Of course the prince made very little resistance, and as usual, forgot all about the episode in a couple of minutes, and was as happy as possible.
At dinner he was hilarious to a degree; he made jokes and fun, and told stories which had no ends, or which he tacked on to ends belonging to other stories, without remarking the fact.
He had had three glasses of champagne at lunch at Natalie Dimitrievna's. He now took more wine, and his old head whirled with it. Maria Alexandrovna plied him well. The dinner was very good: the mistress of the house kept the company alive with most bewitching airs and manners, – at least so it should have been, but all excepting herself and the prince were terribly dull on this occasion. Zina sat silent and grave. Mosgliakoff was clearly off his feed: he was very thoughtful; and as this was unusual Maria Alexandrovna was considerably anxious about him. The widow looked cross and cunning; she continually made mysterious signs to Mosgliakoff on the sly; but the latter took no notice of them.
If the mistress herself had not been so amiable and bewitching, the dinner party might have been mistaken for a lunch at a funeral!
Meanwhile Maria Alexandrovna's condition of mind was in reality excited and agitated to a terrible degree. Zina alone terrified her by her tragic look and tearful eyes. And there was another difficulty – for that accursed Mosgliakoff would probably sit about and get in the way of business! One could not well set about it with him in the room!
So, Maria Alexandrovna rose from the table in some agitation.
But what was her amazement, her joyful surprise, when Mosgliakoff came up to her after dinner, of his own accord, and suddenly and most unexpectedly informed her that he must – to his infinite regret – leave the house on important business for a short while.
“Why, where are you going to?” she asked, with great show of regret.
“Well, you see,” began Mosgliakoff, rather disconcerted and uncomfortable, “I have to —may I come to you for advice?”
“What is it – what is it?”
“Why, you see, my godfather Borodueff – you know the man; I met him in the street to-day, and he is dreadfully angry with me, says I am grown so proud, that though I have been in Mordasoff three times I have never shown my nose inside his doors. He asked me to come in for a cup of tea at five – it's four now. He has no children, you know, – and he is worth a million of roubles —more, they say; and if I marry Zina – you see, – and he's seventy years old now!”
“Why, my good boy, of course, of course! – what are you thinking of? You must not neglect that sort of thing – go at once, of course! I thought you looked preoccupied at dinner. You ought to have gone this morning and shewn him that you cared for him, and so on. Oh, you boys, you boys!” cried Maria Alexandrovna with difficulty concealing her joy.
“Thanks, thanks, Maria Alexandrovna! you've made a man of me again! I declare I quite feared telling you – for I know you didn't think much of the connection. – He is a common sort of old fellow, I know! So good-bye – my respects to Zina, and apologies – I must be off, of course I shall be back soon!”
“Good-bye – take my blessing with you; say something polite to the old man for me; I have long changed my opinion of him; I have grown to like the real old Russian style of the man. Au revoir, mon ami, au revoir!”
“Well, it is a mercy that the devil has carried him off, out of the way!” she reflected, flushing with joy as Paul took his departure out of the room. But Paul had only just reached the hall and was putting on his fur coat when to him appeared – goodness knows whence – the widow, Nastasia Petrovna. She had been waiting for him.
“Where are you going to?” she asked, holding him by the arm.
“To my godfather Borodueff's – a rich old fellow; I want him to leave me money. Excuse me – I'm in rather a hurry!”
Mosgliakoff was in a capital humour!
“Oh! then say good-bye to your betrothed!” remarked the widow, cuttingly.
“And why ‘good-bye’?”
“Why; you think she's yours already, do you? and they are going to marry her to the prince! I heard them say so myself!”
“To the prince? Oh, come now, Nastasia Petrovna!”
“Oh, it's not a case of 'come now' at all! Would you like to see and hear it for yourself? Put down your coat, and come along here, – this way!”
“Excuse me, Nastasia Petrovna, but I don't understand what you are driving at!”
“Oh! you'll understand fast enough if you just bend down here and listen! The comedy is probably just beginning!”
“What comedy?”
“Hush! don't talk so loud! The comedy of humbugging you. This morning, when you went away with the prince, Maria Alexandrovna spent a whole hour talking Zina over into marrying the old man! She told her that nothing was easier than to lure the prince into marrying her; and all sorts of other things that were enough to make one sick! Zina agreed. You should have heard the pretty way in which you were spoken of! They think you simply a fool! Zina said plump out that she would never marry you! Listen now, listen!”
“Why – why – it would be most godless cunning,” Paul stammered, looking sheepishly into Nastasia's eyes.
“Well,