She at once made friends with the steward’s wife, and on the very day of the removal drank tea with her and with the steward beneath the laburnums, discussing arrangements. A club was soon established beneath the laburnums, consisting of Matrena Filimonovna, the steward’s wife, the village elder, and the office clerk; and by means of this club the troubles began gradually to subside, so that in a week’s time everything had really ‘shaped itself’. The roof was mended, a scullery-maid — a relative of the elder’s — was engaged, hens were bought, the cows gave enough milk, the garden was fenced in, a mangle was made by the carpenter, hooks were put into the wardrobes, which no longer opened at their own sweet will; an ironing board covered with coarse cloth lay across the arm of a chair and a chest of drawers in the maid’s room, and the smell of hot irons soon pervaded the room.
‘There, you see! And you were quite in despair!’ said Matrena Filimonovna, pointing to the board.
Even a bathing-house was constructed out of straw-plaited screens. Lily started bathing, and at least part of Dolly’s expectations were fulfilled, if not that of a quiet, at least that of a comfortable, country life. Dolly could not be quiet with six children, of whom one would fall ill, another be in danger of falling ill, a third be in want of something, a fourth show symptoms of something bad in his disposition, etc., etc. Very, very rare were the short intervals of quiet. But these cares and anxieties were the only kind of happiness possible for Dolly. Had it not been for them she would have been left to her thoughts about the husband who did not love her. Besides, painful as were for a mother the fear of illness, and sorrow at the appearance of evil tendencies in her children, those children were already beginning to repay her care by affording her small joys. These joys were so trifling as to be as imperceptible as grains of gold among the sand, and in moments of depression she saw nothing but the sand; yet there were brighter moments when she felt nothing but joy, saw nothing but the gold.
Now in the country solitude she grew more often aware of these joys. Often when watching her children she made great efforts to convince herself that she was mistaken, that being their mother she was not impartial; and yet she could not help telling herself that they were charming children, all the six, each in his or her own way, all of them such as are rarely to be met with; and she was happy in them and proud of them.
Chapter 8
AT the end of May, when the house was more or less in order, Dolly received from her husband an answer to her letter of complaint. He wrote asking her to forgive his not having seen to everything, and saying that he would come as soon as possible. That possibility, however, had not been fulfilled, and up to the beginning of June Dolly was still living without him in the country.
On the Sunday before St Peter’s Day Dolly took all her children to Communion. When talking intimately with her mother and sister Dolly often astonished them by her freedom of thought on religious matters. She had a strange religion of her own, firmly believing in the transmigration of souls, and not caring about Church dogmas. But in her family she fulfilled (not merely to set an example, but with her whole heart) all that the Church demanded, and was very uneasy because for about a year the children had not received Communion. So now, with the entire approval of Matrena Filimonovna, she resolved that this ceremony should be performed.
Several days previously she decided how all the children should be dressed. New frocks were made, old ones altered, hems and frills let down, buttons sewn on, and ribbons got ready. One of the frocks, which the English governess had undertaken to alter, was the cause of much bad blood. The governess put the bodice darts in the wrong places, cut out the arm-holes too big, and nearly spoilt the dress. It fitted so tight round Tanya’s shoulders that it was painful to see her; but Matrena Filimonovna was inspired to insert wedge-shaped pieces and to make a fichu to cover the defect. The frock was put right, but it very nearly caused a quarrel with the governess. However, in the morning everything was right; and toward nine o’clock — the hour till which the priest had been asked to defer mass — the children, beaming with joy, stood in all their finery by the carriage at the porch, waiting for their mother.
Instead of the restive Raven, the steward’s Brownie had been harnessed to the carriage on Matrena Filimonovna’s authority, and Dolly, who had been detained by the cares of her own toilet, came out in a white muslin dress and took her seat in the carriage.
Dolly, somewhat excited, had dressed and done her hair with care. At one time she used to dress for her own sake, in order to look well and be attractive; later on as she grew older dressing became less and less agreeable to her, because it made the loss of her good, looks more apparent; but now it again gave her pleasure and excited her. She was not dressing for her own sake, not for her own beauty, but in order, as the mother of all those charming children, not to spoil the general effect. She gave her mirror a last glance and was satisfied with herself. She looked well: not in the way she had wished to look when going to a ball, but well for the object she had in view at present.
There was no one in church except peasants, innkeepers and their womenfolk; but Dolly saw, or thought she saw, the rapture produced in them by her children and herself. The children were not only beautiful in their fine clothes but were also very sweet in their behaviour. It’s true Alesha did not stand very well: he kept turning round to see the back of his jacket; but nevertheless he was wonderfully sweet. Tanya stood like a grown-up person and looked after the little ones. Little Lily was charming in her naïve wonder at everything around, and it was difficult to repress a smile when, having swallowed the bread and wine, she said in English, ‘More, please!’
On the way home the children were very quiet, feeling that something solemn had taken place.
At home also all went well, only at lunch Grisha began whistling and — what was still worse — would not obey the governess and had to go without his pudding. Dolly would not have sanctioned any punishment on such a day had she been present, but she was obliged to support the governess and so confirmed the sentence that Grisha was not to have pudding. This rather spoilt the general joyfulness.
Grisha cried and said he was being punished although it was Nikolenka that had whistled, and that he was not crying about the pudding (he didn’t mind that!) but because of the injustice. This was too sad, and Dolly decided to speak to the governess and get her to forgive Grisha, and went off to find her. But as she was passing through the dancing-room she saw a scene which filled her heart with such joy that tears came to her eyes and she pardoned the little culprit herself.
The little fellow was sitting on the ledge of the corner window of the dancing-room, and beside him stood Tanya with a plate. On the plea of giving her dolls some dinner she had obtained leave from the governess to take her plateful of pudding to the nursery, but had brought it to her brother instead. Still crying over the injustice done him, he ate the pudding, muttering between sobs: ‘Eat some yourself … let us both eat … together!’
Tanya, affected first by pity for Grisha and then by the consciousness of her own virtuous action, also had tears in her eyes, but did not decline to eat her share of the pudding.
When they saw their mother they were frightened, but glancing at her face they knew they were acting rightly and, with their mouths full of pudding, began to laugh and wipe their smiling lips with their hands, smearing their beaming faces with tears and jam.
‘Dear me! Your nice white frock! Tanya! … Grisha!’ cried their mother, trying to save the frock, but smiling a blissful, rapturous smile.
The new clothes were taken off, the little girls had their overalls and the boys their old jackets, and orders were given to harness (to the steward’s chagrin) his Brownie again, to take the whole family mushroom-hunting, and later to the bathing-house. The sound of rapturous squealing filled the nursery, and did not cease till they started on their drive.
They gathered a basketful of mushrooms; even Lily found one. Previously Miss Hull used to find one and point it out to her; but this time Lily herself found a fine big one and there was a general shout of