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A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
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 E. A. BRAYLEY HODGETTS 
 
 i-UTHOR OF ' ROUND ABOUT ARMENIA,' ' IN THE TRACK OF THE RUSSIAN 
 FAMINF.,' ETC, 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN MACQUEEN 
 
 HASTINGS HOUSE, NORFOLK ST., STRAND 
 1897 
 

 GIFT OF 
 
 '^i^s., .y^^.v^.^lr; 
 
 :) 
 

 8'J 
 
 
 At midnight an angel flew down from the sky, 
 
 And softly he sang floating by, 
 
 While the moon, and the stars, and the clouds in array 
 
 Gave ear to his pure, holy lay. 
 
 He sang of the pleasures of souls without sin, 
 Who dwelt the grand Heavens within ; 
 Of God, the Almighty, he sang, and his praise 
 Was not hypocritical phrase. 
 
 The soul of a child in his arms carried he, 
 To struggle and swim in life's sea ; 
 And the melody holy did enter its ear. 
 Remaining to memory dear. 
 
 And long in the world did it suffer and pine, 
 That child with a spirit divine ; 
 But the sad songs of earth could not wipe away 
 The memory sweet of that lay. 
 
 Lermontoff. 
 
 (Sef to music by Rubinstein.) 
 
 r/4 
 
 
CON TEN TS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 
 PACK 
 
 I.— Olga, . . . . 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 II.— Father and Son, 
 
 
 
 IS 
 
 III.— The Tutor, 
 
 
 
 25 
 
 IV. — Reconnoitring, 
 
 
 
 31 
 
 v.— Agraphia, 
 
 
 
 45 
 
 VI.— In the Garden, 
 
 
 
 54 
 
 VII.— Proudsorin, 
 
 
 
 64 
 
 VIIL— The Course of Events, 
 
 
 
 73 
 
 IX.— A Scene, 
 
 
 
 8i 
 
 X.— Departure, 
 
 
 
 88 
 
 XL— The Ouspenskis, 
 
 
 
 99 
 
 XII.— A Coterie, 
 
 
 
 III 
 
 XIII.— The World, . 
 
 
 
 122 
 
 XIV.— LiSSENKO, 
 
 
 
 135 
 
 XV.— An Experience, 
 
 
 
 146 
 
 XVI.— The Nurse's Story, . 
 
 
 
 • 159 
 
 XVII.— Consequences, . 
 
 
 
 . 172 
 
 XVIII.— Retreat, 
 
 
 
 184 
 
 XIX.— The University Ball, 
 
 
 
 . 195 
 
 XX. — Nihilism ON Horseback, 
 
 
 
 . 206 
 
 XXL— The Promise of Spring, 
 
 
 
 . 216 
 
 vii. 
 
 
 
 
Vlll. 
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XXII.— SOKOLNIKI, . . ... 228 
 
 XXIII.-Vassilieff, 
 
 
 
 238 
 
 XXIV.—' Strelna,' 
 
 
 
 249 
 
 XXV.— Run to Earth, . 
 
 
 
 261 
 
 XX YI. —Enterprise, 
 
 
 
 272 
 
 XXVII.— By Appointment, 
 
 
 
 283 
 
 CXVIII.-Treachery, 
 
 
 
 296 
 
 XXIX.— The Dawn of a New Day, 
 
 
 
 307 
 
 XXX.— Good-bye ! 
 
 
 
 • 319 
 
 XXXI. —Conclusion, 
 
 
 . 
 
 • 330 
 
A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 PART I 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OLGA 
 
 It was a splendid morning ; one of those heavy, 
 Russian summer mornings when all the world 
 seems hushed and still, no living creature moves, 
 no leaf stirs. The clear blue sky relieves the 
 scenery and hallows it, and the extreme heat 
 and quiet fill the soul with a strange sense of 
 awe and reverence. 
 
 In Prince Obolenski's garden a female form 
 lay stretched upon the grass, her large black 
 eyes staring into the sky. She was day-dream- 
 ing, 'smoking the heavens,' as the Russians say. 
 
 Her luxuriant dark hair fell over her shoulder 
 
 A 
 
2 'A I^USSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 in- a. sir.'glo thick pldit, caressed her snow-white 
 neck, and meandered lovingly over her figure. 
 She was dressed in the becoming Russian national 
 costume — a crimson skirt and a white blouse, with 
 puffed sleeves which did not reach the elbow, but 
 exposed to view the beautiful symmetry of her 
 arm. 
 
 Round her neck, which was partly bared, were 
 hung strings of pearls and corals. Her mouth was 
 round and full, and her nose almost Grecian in 
 outline. Her eyebrows, but slightly curved, be- 
 trayed both humour and temper, and that mouth, 
 which looked so good-natured and childlike, could 
 curl sarcastically or be firmly knit in anger. The 
 striking thing about the face was that it showed 
 strong character blended with a gentleness almost 
 angelic. This was Princess Olga, Prince Obo- 
 lenski's daughter. She had grown up a wild 
 flower, uncared for and neglected. Both her 
 parents still regarded her as a child, although 
 she was over seventeen, and as they were very 
 charming, easy-going, self-indulgent people they 
 allowed her to run wild. She would often get 
 up early in the morning and ramble into the 
 adjacent pine forest, not to return, perhaps, 
 until the evening. Here she would pour out 
 her heart in song. If hungry, she w^ould pick 
 
OLGA 3 
 
 a few wild berries, and could thus have sub- 
 sisted for days. She led a sort of Robinson 
 Crusoe life in the summer, fearing nought and 
 dreading no man, and in the winter, during the 
 long evenings, she would pore over the books 
 in her father's library. That worthy nobleman, 
 indeed, was not much given to literary pursuits, 
 but her grandfather had passed for a wit in his 
 day, and had collected a few books of rather 
 an amusing than instructive character; that is, 
 they were not dull. There were some choice 
 French, German and English classics, a few 
 good translations, and all the works of Pushkin, 
 Lermontoff, Kriloff, Karamzin and even Tour- 
 guenieff, not to mention Balzac and Dumas, 
 Fielding and Heine. The present owner of 
 these literary treasures held them in but slight 
 esteem, and occasionally felt considerable mis- 
 givings when he found his daughter buried in 
 them. But his was a comfortable sort of mind 
 which could shake off, with the greatest ease, 
 all feelings of responsibility. 
 
 Brought up on such mental pabulum, Olga 
 was a strange mixture of childishness and 
 wisdom, of sentimentality and commonsense 
 Her imagination had been awakened, and she 
 had already a vague longing tor the advent of 
 
4 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 romance in her somewhat monotonous, though 
 happy, life. 
 
 As she lay thus on the grass she suddenly 
 began to sing one of those plaintive Russian 
 love-songs which seem to palpitate with despair 
 and passion. 
 
 'Midst valleys large and beautiful, 
 
 On a plain so green and wide. 
 There stands and grows a tree of oak 
 
 In the splendour of his pride. 
 
 The oak is tall and powerful, 
 
 But stands alone, poor tree ; 
 Alone, alone, unfortunate ! 
 
 Like a sentry standeth he ! 
 
 When burns and glows the noon-day sun. 
 
 For shade now seek his side ; 
 When tempests roar and fierce winds rage, 
 
 From rain whom shall he hide ? 
 
 No bushes green are growing near. 
 
 No ivy round him twines. 
 No stalwart fir trees stand in sight, 
 
 Alone the poor tree pines ! 
 
 Oh ! it is sad, is solitude, 
 
 E'en for a greenwood tree ; 
 And oh ! how lonely for a youth 
 
 Without his love to be ! 
 
 When she had finished singing she roused her- 
 self, sprang up and walked towards the house. 
 
OLGA 5 
 
 On her way she was met by a splendid Russian 
 mastiff, who bounded up to her, smiling benevol- 
 ently, for dogs can smile. He rubbed his head 
 against her dress, looked into her face and barked. 
 Olga took hold of his head by both ears, shook 
 him, and burst out laughing. 
 
 ' Barboss ! ' she cried ; ' Barboss, old fellow, 
 how are you ? Why have you not come before ? 
 Have you been sleeping, you lazy rogue ? ' 
 
 Barboss looked foolish and winked apologeti- 
 cally. He was a smypathetic brute, and Olga's 
 faithful friend and companion. He had watched 
 the development of her character, and understood 
 her better than anyone in the house. Olga now 
 took him to the river and gave him his bath by 
 throwing a stick into the water, which he proudly 
 fetched out and affectionately placed at her feet. 
 This was a regular morning's duty. He then 
 tried to rub his wet head against her skirt and 
 to dirty her with his paws. But this Olga would 
 not allow. She ran back to the house, followed 
 by Barboss barking. When she arrived at the 
 verandah, which looked into the flower garden, 
 she found the breakfast-table already laid. The 
 samovar or tea-urn was singing its song of homely 
 comfort, hot rolls, a huge cold pie, and combs of 
 honey stood on the table, and things had a 
 
6 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 generally appetising appearance, which Olga 
 thoroughly appreciated. 
 
 A venerable servant, cleanly shaven and inno- 
 cent of whiskers, was bringing in a tray with tea 
 things. On seeing Olga he made a low bow and 
 nearly dropped his tray. 
 
 'Good morning, Ivan. Are we going to have 
 breakfast soon ? Is Mamma coming. I am dread- 
 fully hungry ! ' 
 
 Ivan replied, he thought the Prince and Princess 
 would come instantly, and then solemnly shook 
 his finger at Barboss, who had attempted to steal 
 a hot roll. After pottering about a little, Ivan, 
 whose face betrayed that he was bubbling over 
 with some important news, suddenly said in a 
 deferential voice, — 
 
 ' Have you heard, Olga Michaelovna, that 
 Alexander Michaelovitch is to have a teacher? 
 I heard it from master this morning, and I think 
 it is high time. The young master behaves 
 dreadfully. He is very wild. But I hope they 
 won't have a German or any outlandish fellow for 
 him. Those Germans are so cunning.' 
 
 Olga, who was sitting on the balustrade of the 
 verandah gnawing the crust of a piece of black 
 bread, looked up in surprise. 
 
 ' What ! Is Sasha going to have a teacher ? 
 
OLGA 7 
 
 Why, he will scratch the poor fellows eyes out 
 before he is an hour in the house ! ' 
 
 ' It is quite time for the young master to learn, 
 Olga Michaelovna ; he is a gentleman, he ought 
 to be educated and not grow up into an ignorant 
 old fool like myself. Why, he is nearly fifteen. 
 He will be a man before we know it, and will 
 have to go out into the world, and it would never 
 do for a prince to be uneducated.' 
 
 ' Poor Sasha ! Do you recollect the French 
 governess, Ivan, and how he ill-treated her? 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! But, Ivan, if Sasha will be a man 
 soon, then surely I must be a woman already, eh ? ' 
 
 'And are you not a lady, Olga Michaelovna? 
 Do you not do what you like? Have you not 
 got your own way?' 
 
 ' No, Ivan, I am treated like a child. I ought 
 to be taken to town, to go to balls and theatres, 
 and to see society, to begin life.' 
 
 ' Ough ! Olga Michaelovna, what do you want 
 with theatres and balls? The theatres are not 
 worth seeing, and balls are dangerous places to 
 go to. Ladies often catch cold at these same 
 balls and die, or else, the Lord have mercy upon 
 us ! ' he said, crossing himself piously, * they 
 fall in love there, and then they get married, 
 and that is just as bad. Then they make 
 
8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 themselves miserable by putting on fine dresses 
 in which they feel uncomfortable. Pah ! Don't 
 you ever go to balls, Olga Michaelovna. It is 
 an old man who says it.' 
 
 * Oh ! but then, Ivan, they wear the fine dresses 
 to make themselves look beautiful, and to make 
 everybody admire them,' and Olga smiled archly. 
 
 'You do not want fine dresses, Olga Michael- 
 ovna,' said Ivan. * You are a beauty as you are, 
 a real Russian beauty, without any of those 
 foreign fal lals. No, Olga Michaelovna, you do 
 not want to go to town. Why should you go 
 to town? Life is sad in town. In town there 
 are no nightingales to sing to you, no fields 
 and forests to walk in. No, don't go, Olga 
 Michaelovna. And then, if they take you to 
 town they will marry you to some fine gentleman, 
 who will play cards all day and come home 
 drunk at night. No, remain where you are, 
 Olga Michaelovna; you are much better here, 
 with your family. Besides, what should we do 
 without you, Olga Michaelovna?' 
 
 'You are an old idiot, Ivan. You do not want 
 me to go into a convent, do you? Or do you 
 want me to die an old maid, sour faced and bad 
 tempered, like Aunt Vera?' 
 
 Ivan smiled kindly and compassionately. 
 
OLGA 9 
 
 ' Well, well,' he said, * please God you will go 
 to town, and see all the fine officers in their nice 
 uniforms, and go to theatres, and wear fine dresses, 
 and get married to a dandy, and then remember 
 what the old fool, Ivan, said.' 
 
 And with these words Ivan went off to announce 
 that breakfast was on the table. He was an old 
 cynic, Ivan, and had seen a great deal of the 
 world as his master's valet in the days of yore, 
 when that master was young and flighty. His 
 opinions had, therefore, been arrived at by ex- 
 perience and observation. 
 
 Olga was soon joined by her stately father, 
 Prince Obolenski, a neat-looking, grey-haired, 
 moustachioless man, with keen eyes, fine teeth, 
 white whiskers and full red lips. Olga jumped 
 off the balustrade and kissed his hand, while he 
 saluted her on the forehead. 
 
 ' Have you had a pleasant walk this morning? ' 
 he asked kindly, and as though he was talking to 
 a little child. ' Have you gathered any wild straw- 
 berries, eh ? You know fruit is gold in the morn- 
 ing, silver in the day and lead in the evening.' 
 
 'And which metal is the least indigestible, 
 Papa?' 
 
 * Ha ! ha ! not bad, my child. Well, where have 
 you been ? ' he asked somewhat absently. 
 
10 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Olga related, like an obedient child, her very un- 
 eventful morning's walk, at which he exclaimed, — 
 
 ' How charming ! I am sorry I was so lazy 
 this morning and did not come with you.' The 
 prince had never got up early in his life. ' Ah ! 
 Barboss ! How do you do, Barboss ! ' he con- 
 tinued, turning his attention to the dog and 
 stroking him. Dogs are great snobs, and Barboss 
 looked quite deferential and pleased while his 
 master bestowed the crumbs, as it were, of his 
 attention. The prince then softly hummed a tune 
 and walked up and down the verandah, looking 
 intensely pleased with himself and conscious 
 of having done his duty. 
 
 At length the princess made her appearance, 
 and, as it was nearly eleven o'clock by this time, 
 the family sat down to breakfast at once without 
 waiting for Sasha. 
 
 The princess was a handsome woman, dark, 
 rather tall and decidedly stout, with remnants of 
 beauty still lingering on her slightly passe face. 
 
 ' Where is Sasha, ma chere ? Ivan, tell Alex- 
 ander Michaelovitch to come to breakfast. With 
 regard to Sasha, ma chere amie^ we must come to 
 some definite decision about him. His education 
 must be taken in hand. You will perhaps 
 recollect that I was talking about a teacher for 
 
OLGA II 
 
 him the other day. You see, Sasha has ceased 
 to be a child. Since he thrashed that unfortunate 
 French governess, whom you were so jealous of, 
 it has been quite clear that he must have a man 
 to look after him. Letting him run wild as he 
 does will not do. There is not a whole pane 
 of glass in the hothouse ; all our windows are 
 periodically smashed ; the house looks as though 
 an invading army had bivouacked in it. In short, 
 it is time that something was done. And then, 
 look at his manners ! I am really ashamed of 
 him when anybody comes to see us. The other 
 day he turned Verishockin's hat into a footstool 
 and ruined it. I am positively ashamed of him ! ' 
 
 ' I am afraid this is all your fault. Prince. 
 Why did you not check him at an earlier age? 
 But, after all, his tricks are harm.less and natural.' 
 
 ' Very well, ma chere, be it so. I merely 
 wanted to ask your advice. I have just had 
 a letter from a friend at Moscow recommend- 
 ing me a young student who has finished his 
 studies. He is going to read a Httle, and would 
 like a place as a tutor with a quiet family in 
 the country. I am assured that he is of most 
 irreproachable morals and, moreover, hideously 
 ugly. Don't you think this is the very man 
 we want ? ' 
 
12 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * All I can say is that I hate and abominate 
 tutors, and why you should wish to fill the 
 house with ugly, vulgar Russian students I can- 
 not understand. An elegant Frenchman, or a 
 handsome Italian, would be much more likely 
 to refine and polish our darling Sasha. Never- 
 theless, Michel^ I know you mean to have your 
 way, so I must leave this matter to your 
 superior tact' 
 
 ' Well, there is a great deal in what you say. 
 But you must remember that Russians are 
 much cheaper than Italians and Frenchmen, 
 less dangerous to the tranquillity of the house- 
 hold, though I dare say that does not influence 
 you at all, and, moreover, much more useful. 
 If Sasha is to make his studies in Russia, and 
 enter the service of his country, he will find a 
 Russian tutor of more advantage to him, I fancy, 
 than a foreigner.' 
 
 At the present day it is no longer requisite to 
 use such arguments as the above. Russians have 
 ceased to despise their own country ; but at 
 the period we are writing of, 187 — , the cry 
 of Russia for the Russians was only just be- 
 ginning to be raised. 
 
 Just at this juncture in the conversation a 
 sort of Indian war-whoop was raised, and the 
 
OLGA 13 
 
 form of Sasha could be seen running along the 
 garden. He was a fair-haired, blue-eyed curly- 
 headed, young rascal, who quickly went through 
 the ceremony of salutation with his parents and 
 then settled down with a will to his food. 
 
 ' Why did you scream like that ? ' asked his 
 father, sternly. But the youth did not heed the 
 question. His mind was given entirely to more 
 important matters. He reached out his hand 
 for a larger piece of pie and nearly upset the 
 boiling tea-urn over his mother. Prince Obo- 
 lenski shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' Quelles manieres I ' he exclaimed as he 
 glanced at his wife. 
 
 Olga had been sitting with her elbows on the 
 table, listening attentively to the conversation. At 
 length she said, as she saw an opportunity, — 
 
 ' Papa, when do you think of taking me to 
 Moscow ? ' 
 
 Princess Obolenski glared at her in amaze- 
 ment, the prince looked grave and pompous. 
 
 *We must think about that, Olenka, there is 
 plenty of time yet. Why, Olenka, you are but 
 a child still!' 
 
 Olga opened wide her expressive black eyes. 
 
 ' I am not a child any more. Papa. I don't 
 care for childish things. I am quite grown up, 
 
14 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 and seventeen years of age. I am not in the 
 least childish, Papa ! ' 
 
 The prince smiled good-naturedly. 
 
 * Well,' he said, ' we must think about it' 
 Princess Obolenski tossed her head con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 'What a charming child!' she exclaimed. 
 ' How respectful to her parents.' 
 
 * I have grown tired of this place in the 
 country/ Olga continued. ' I vv-ant to go among 
 people and to see the world.' 
 
 * I am afraid you are a very empty-headed, 
 vain, frivolous girl, Olga/ Princess Obolenski 
 said. 'Have we done breakfast, Michel? Then 
 I can go,' and she majestically swept into the 
 house. Sasha seized as much pie as he could 
 carry, and disappeared only to turn up again 
 at luncheon. 
 
 When they were left alone Olga went up to 
 her father, coaxingly. 
 
 *Now, tell me, Papa, do you think I can go 
 to town next winter?' 
 
 ' Next winter ! Dear me, how impatient you 
 are ! Don't you know that all that is very ex- 
 pensive? However, I will think about it,' and 
 Prince Obolenski retired to his study to write 
 for the student. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 FATHER AND SON 
 
 The estates of Prince Michel Obolenski were 
 situated in the province or government of 
 Riazan. Once upon a time they had been a 
 source of wealth and power, but the eman- 
 cipation of the peasantry had changed all that, 
 and, in common with many of his fellows, 
 Prince Obolenski had seen his income, though 
 not inconsiderable even now, reduced to but 
 a fraction of its former proportions. His mansion, 
 a comfortable wooden building, was old and 
 stood in need of repair; his park and gardens 
 were neglected, grass grew in the pathways, 
 and flowers were scarce. His stables, his out- 
 houses and offices, everything bore evidence 
 of the heavy hand of time and of decay. 
 
 Perhaps Prince Obolenski himself was a little 
 out of repair also, and suffered from the pre- 
 vailing epidemic. There was a time when he 
 had been a dashing officer of the Guards, but 
 things had changed with him since then. 
 
 15 
 
1 6 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 In one particular, however, Prince Michel 
 Obolenski had not changed. He had always 
 been a practical man of the world, and such 
 he had remained. Never had he been dis- 
 tinguished for generosity of sentiment. He 
 was always strictly correct and a staunch utili- 
 tarian. ' The greatest good for the greatest 
 number' was his creed, and the greatest 
 number was number one. Thus he made few 
 friends and no enemies. Yet he was self- 
 indulgent and lazy, for he had a constitutional 
 aversion to anything faintly resembling work. 
 His father, who had made his way in the world 
 as a man of taste and refinement, was surprised 
 to find that his son despised the accomplish- 
 ments and studies which ' make for culture.' 
 He positively had no 'tastes.' In their stead 
 he cherished and studied to observe one solemn 
 and sacred principle, which was a sort of load- 
 star to his life ; it was the beautiful sentiment 
 of obedience to authority. For, being of 
 rather a philosophical turn of mind, he had 
 early arrived at the conclusion that authority 
 and force were interchangeable terms, and 
 hence that it was well to submit to them with 
 a good grace. So he applied this maxim to 
 life. Even at school he never quarrelled 
 
FATHER AND SON 17 
 
 with boys older or bigger than himself, be- 
 haved respectfully to his master and was quite 
 a favourite. As he grew older, however, he 
 developed a certain cynical humour, and saw 
 only the comic side of things. He also im- 
 bibed certain theories of political economy, 
 especially as to the distribution of wealth 
 and the division of labour. Easy-going and 
 indolent, he had been accustomed to be waited 
 on from childhood, and to regard the hardships 
 and difficulties of life as outside his province. 
 So he considered that the fitness of things and 
 the laws of political economy demaiided that 
 the peasants should bear all the pain and 
 privation, and the gentry should enjoy all 
 the pleasures and comforts of this sublunary 
 world ; as he belonged to the second category 
 he approved of this wise and beneficent 
 arrangement with all his heart. His exertions 
 in the acquisition of learning were in accord- 
 ance with his philosophical opinions, from 
 which it became evident that his destiny did 
 not lie in the learned walks of life ; indeed 
 he was not even able to matriculate for the 
 university. So his father put him into the 
 Guards, for in those days the military profession 
 was a little less scientific than it is in our times. 
 
 B 
 
i8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Launched into the world, he soon became 
 popular, and his character gradually took more 
 definite shape and colour. He took kindly 
 to the many amusements which the gay 
 capital afforded, although, even in his pleasures, 
 he avoided exertion. Riding, skating and 
 dancing he abhorred, but the comfortable 
 ease, the indolent excitement, of the card- 
 table had an irresistible fascination for him. In 
 this sort of harmless play his youthful days 
 were passed, until he found it difficult to render 
 a satisfactory account of his debts to his 
 father, who spent his declining years in 
 retirement on his estate devising plans for 
 the amelioration of mankind, which never came 
 to fruition. Notwithstanding his lofty ideals 
 the father did not reward the trouble his 
 son had taken in writing to him by paying 
 his debts, and so the money-lenders fore- 
 closed and the young man had to go through 
 the melancholy process of selling his furniture 
 and pictures and little objets cTart^ and to 
 leave the service a trifle damaged in reputation. 
 
 Still, young men will be young men, and 
 his errors were speedily pardoned and a more 
 lucrative career found for him. His father's 
 influence procured him a post in one of the 
 
FATHER AND SON 19 
 
 numerous branches of the Russian Civil Service, 
 the officials of which constitute the bulk of the 
 population of St Petersburg. This new pro- 
 fession was admirably adapted to develop the 
 young prince's sterling qualities. His respect 
 for authority, his political economy, all these 
 things were simply invaluable to him. His 
 superiors liked him ; indeed, his partiality for 
 cards was a great recommendation. He had 
 had a severe lesson, and had grown cautious, 
 playing with more tact, and losing only to 
 his superiors, but taking care to win from his 
 colleagues. This was the period of his glory 
 and zenith, and an anecdote is recorded of 
 him at this time which, if true, reflects great 
 credit on his genius. 
 
 An important commission was sitting, the 
 collection of evidence and preparation of 
 material for which threw much extra work 
 upon his department. 
 
 Although it was not absolutely necessary 
 for the officials to put in extra time, it was 
 considered convenient to do so. For the work 
 of the commission thus received additional im- 
 portance and the officials themselves additional 
 pay. But to have done any work would have 
 been absolutely unpatriotic. So Prince Obo- 
 
20 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 lenski's resourceful genius came to the rescue. 
 He organised card parties, and, to prevent de- 
 tection and annoyance, invented a pack of his 
 own, composed of tables of statistics, population 
 returns, official reports, etc. Thus the game 
 could proceed comfortably, and the names of 
 the cards could be called out without exciting 
 the least suspicion. But upon a certain day it so 
 happened that the chief of the department, having 
 over-stayed his hours, overheard the gentlemen 
 at their game in the following hot argument, — 
 
 'When I played my population returns of 
 Tula, you should have followed with the births 
 and deaths, for you must have known that 
 Ivanoff had the agricultural statistics.' 
 
 'Yes,' said another voice, 'but you should 
 have played your spirit licences when you saw 
 me put down the report of the Governor-general 
 of Tula.' 
 
 ' Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! ' cried a third voice, 
 ' Never mind ; we cannot recall the past. 
 Let us have a fresh game ! Will you cut ? 
 Thank you. Kieff is trumps.' 
 
 The chiefs curiosity was awakened, he 
 cautiously opened his door so that nobody 
 could hear him, and noiselessly concealed him- 
 self behind a desk, watching the game with 
 
FATHER AND SON 21 
 
 the greatest interest and bated breath. But 
 one of the inexperienced young men trumped 
 his partner's trick ; flesh and blood could not 
 stand it. His patience forsook the great pillar 
 of the department ; in a moment of self-forget- 
 fulness he jumped forward indignantly, and 
 rebuked the foolish youth who had committed 
 so great a mistake. At first the gentlemen 
 were all dumbfounded, but when the chief ex- 
 pressed a wish to join the game himself, and to 
 show these boys how to play, they took heart 
 of grace and spent a very pleasant evening. 
 From that day forth the chief found it was 
 absolutely incumbent upon him to superintend 
 the labours of his young gentlemen personally, 
 and the fame of Prince Obolenski spread. 
 
 He never neglected any of those opportunities 
 of enriching himself at his country's expense 
 w^hich used to present themselves so frequently 
 in those good old times, until at last even his 
 father was won over. That nobleman gradually 
 began better to understand his son and the 
 advantages of political economy. The world we 
 live in is a sort of kaleidoscope of progress, in 
 which philosophies and theories are constantly 
 'evolving' and changing. The Whig of a genera- 
 tion ago is a Tory to-day ; the pious Vicar of 
 
22 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Bray, who was a devout Roman Catholic in the 
 days of Queen Mary, became an ardent Anglican, 
 from conviction, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. 
 The times had changed, but his religion had not 
 really altered. Old Prince Obolenski had fondly 
 hoped that his son would have followed in his 
 own footsteps, have become noted for his learn- 
 ing and his wit, and have lived to attain high 
 distinctions. But the young man struck out a 
 totally different line, which at first displeased, 
 and then puzzled, the father, who at last, however, 
 acknowledged that means may change, it is the 
 end which remains eternal. So he died contented, 
 without seeing the emancipation of the serfs 
 effected, but glad to think that his Conservative 
 son would safeguard the interests of his house, 
 and protect it from the effects of that very 
 reform which he, as a Liberal, had always 
 ardently advocated. Not many years before 
 this event the son had entered the state of 
 holy matrimony on strictly utilitarian principles. 
 The father had married on the old - fashioned 
 romantic plan. He had fallen passionately in 
 love with a wealthy young lady, who recipro- 
 cated his sentiments. They lived happily to- 
 gether for a month, then followed two years of 
 utter wretchedness, storm and stress, which were 
 
FATHER AND SON 23 
 
 succeeded by the usual calm. They lived side 
 by side, yet not together, quietly, indifferently, 
 without any feeling of love, jealousy or hatred, 
 nothing but supreme contempt. They spoke in 
 most affectionate terms, called each other en- 
 dearing names, never quarrelled, but avoided 
 each other's society as much as possible. 
 
 Prince Michel, on the other hand, had no 
 illusions about his marriage. The lady was 
 stout, young, inexperienced and rich. She pro- 
 fessed no sentimental regard for him, but her 
 mother had pointed out the desirability of the 
 match, and told her how certain gossips had 
 coupled her daughter's name with that of a 
 young officer of Hussars, an indiscreet and 
 penniless cavalier who was much too often at 
 the house. The daughter saw the justice of 
 her mother's remarks; the officer received his 
 conge^ and Prince Michel obtained a very 
 handsome young wife, with a large waist and a 
 larger fortune, which he immediately proceeded 
 to spend in St Petersburg, leaving his wife to 
 be consoled by the Hussar, who opportunely 
 returned, and thus all parties were made happy. 
 
 Prince Michel Obolenski had now retired from 
 the service, covered with honours, orders and 
 distinctions, and was trying hard, by dint of 
 
24 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 great economy, to retrieve his fortunes. He 
 still managed to spend his winters very com- 
 fortably in Moscow, but he had long since 
 decided that the state of his exchecquer could 
 not permit him the extravagance of taking his 
 wife and family with him. 
 
 Although he was always complaining of hard 
 times and the desperate state of his affairs, his 
 friends shrewdly suspected that he was really 
 pretty well off. It was even hinted that he 
 secretly indulged in acts of munificent charity, 
 but, curiously enough, he generally selected for 
 the exercise of this Christian virtue persons of 
 whom strait-laced Pharisees would have hardly 
 approved : the bright and not over-particular 
 stars of the ballet, the brilliant though some- 
 what husky nightingales of the variety stage, 
 and many a refugee from France. 
 
 On one occasion, and on one occasion only, 
 did his indulgent wife remonstrate with him, 
 and that was when he returned from escorting 
 to Moscow the French governess, to whom re- 
 ference has been made. Then, indeed, Princess 
 Obolenski made him a scene in the very hall 
 of his own house as he entered. But he only 
 said blandly, ^Pas devant les domestiques, ma 
 chere!' and locked himself up in his study. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE TUTOR 
 
 Not many weeks after the conversation recorded 
 in our first chapter, the student, whom Prince 
 Obolenski had mentioned, duly put in his 
 appearance. He was a tall, thin, sallow-com- 
 plexioned young man, with eager grey eyes 
 and long nondescript hair. Notwithstanding a 
 certain air of humility, and even awkward shy- 
 ness, there was something haughty, proud and 
 perhaps even contemptuous about him. He 
 looked as though he spent his days poring over 
 books, and valued but little the world and its 
 vanities. 
 
 Prince Obolenski received him with that be- 
 nign and condescending cordiality which Russian 
 gentlemen always assume towards their inferiors. 
 The student at once began to look ill at ease 
 and shy. This greatly pleased the prince, who 
 liked his subordinates to feel awkward in his 
 presence. It was a grateful tribute to his exalted 
 
26 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 position, and showed that he inspired them with 
 awe. 
 
 * Oh ! ah ! yes. You are Monsieur Proudsorin ? 
 Let me welcome you to Volkovo. Pray be 
 seated. I hope we shall be good friends, and 
 that you will be happy and comfortable with us.' 
 
 This, M. Proudsorin felt, he never could be, so 
 he bowed awkwardly and coughed. 
 
 ' Extremely sympathetic young man,' thought 
 the prince as he told Ivan to fetch Sasha. 
 
 It was easier to order Ivan to fetch Sasha 
 than to find him. For the hopeful scion of the 
 house of Obolenski was seated upon the roof of 
 a shed, whither he had climbed for refuge, and 
 was amusing himself by throwing stones at some 
 peasant children who were running away from 
 him ; and it cost Ivan some time and trouble 
 to get him down and bring him before his 
 austere parent. 
 
 That gentleman was in the meantime cross- 
 examining M. Proudsorin. 
 
 ' You were in the faculty of law I hear. Have 
 you formed any plans for the future?* 
 
 ' I have made my plans,' Proudsorin replied, 
 somewhat stiffly. 
 
 ' Oh ! indeed ! And er — what er — career do 
 you intend to embrace ? ' 
 
THE TUTOR 27 
 
 * I am afraid I cannot tell you. All that will 
 depend upon circumstances.' 
 
 ' Yes, I see. But did you not say you had 
 made your plans ? ' 
 
 ' I did say so.' With these words Proudsorin 
 seemed to get more stiff and rigid than ever, and 
 his piercing grey eyes, which he had hitherto 
 kept humbly fixed upon the ground, flashed like 
 steel full in Prince Obolenski's face. 
 
 ' Strange fellow, this,' thought Prince Obolenski, 
 feeling quite uncomfortable. 
 
 But now Sasha made his appearance, and his 
 father introduced him. 
 
 ' This is my son, your pupil ; Sasha, this is 
 your tutor. I beg you to love and esteem one 
 another. "^ Sasha ! Ne fais pas des grimaces ! ' 
 
 The master and pupil mutually took stock of 
 each other, like men about to engage in combat, 
 who first measure each other's strength. A cold 
 smile of conscious power played on Proudsorin's 
 lips as he walked towards the youth to shake 
 his hand, saying politely, that he was pleased to 
 make his acquaintance. Sasha instinctively felt 
 that he would not have it all his own way with 
 his master, ard put his hands sulkily behind 
 him. 
 
 * The Russian form of introduction. 
 
28 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Proudsorin's smile grew stronger and sweeter, 
 and without more ado he proceeded to elicit from 
 Sasha various curious pieces of information, such 
 as that the Red Sea was full of red herrings, that 
 Robinson Crusoe was the discoverer of America, 
 and brought back from that country india-rubber 
 goloshes, etc. 
 
 Prince Obolenski was delighted with his new 
 acquisition, and went off to tell his wife what a 
 treasure he was. 
 
 ' The student has arrived,' he said to the 
 princess. ' He is a charming, sympathetic young 
 man. Deliciously ugly and perhaps somewhat 
 bashful and awkward ; but such a scholar ! He 
 is already examining Sasha ! ' 
 
 ' Poor Sasha ! He is so delicate. I hope your 
 ogre will not kill him with work.' 
 
 At luncheon Proudsorin was introduced to the 
 princess, and took his seat silently at table. The 
 princess eyed him with haughty superciliousness. 
 
 *When you were at the Moscow University, 
 Monsieur, did you know Count Souellskoy ? He 
 studied in Moscow, Prince, did he not ? ' 
 
 * Yes,' said the prince, ' he was in the philolo- 
 gical faculty. Monsieur Proudsorin, I understand, 
 was in the faculty of jurisprudence, so he could 
 hardly have met him, I think.' 
 
THE TUTOR 29 
 
 Proudsorin quietly attended to his luncheon, 
 without taking any notice of the question. 
 
 ' Did you know him, Monsieur ? He was a 
 charming young man ; such excellent manners ! ' 
 
 Proudsorin looked up from his plate and gave 
 the princess the benefit of his cold, steel grey eyes. 
 
 * No, Madam,' he answered quietly, ' I had not 
 the honour.' 
 
 The princess looked over to her husband 
 and shrugged her shoulders, the prince solemnly 
 stroked his whiskers, and nothing more was said 
 during luncheon. 
 
 Olga, who sat opposite him, was much interested 
 in the student. He was totally different from any- 
 body she had seen. 
 
 When luncheon was over, Proudsorin wanted to 
 know whether he was to commence his lessons at 
 once ; but Prince Obolenski was of opinion that 
 Monsieur had better rest that day. 
 
 ' Sasha can take you out and show you the neigh- 
 bourhood ; it is a perfect miniature Switzerland.' 
 
 Russian scenery is invariably flat and uninter- 
 esting, but Russians never fail to liken the par- 
 ticular tract of land which they possess themselves 
 either to Italy or Switzerland ; it is a pleasant 
 trait in a national character not otherwise addicted 
 to optimism. 
 
30 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 When Sasha and Proudsorin had gone, the 
 princess lifted her eyes to the heavens, folded her 
 hands and piously ejaculated, ^ Mon Dieul' 
 
 ' Strange sort of man this Proudsorin ; quite a 
 character,' said the prince, pleasantly. 
 * A character ! A horror, you mean ! ' 
 ' I thought he looked very interesting and 
 clever,' said Olga, timidly. 
 
 The princess looked at Olga, and then shot a 
 meaning glance at her husband. 
 
 ' You see ! I am afraid, mon cher Michel, that 
 you will have cause to regret the introduction of 
 this person into the house. He has already 
 become interesting, we find.' 
 
 ' Well, I think Olga is right. He certainly 
 looks interesting and clever. But I think, if 
 he is too severe, and I am afraid he seems to 
 be rather a martinet, we must pack him off, 
 especially if we find his influence is having a 
 bad effect on Sasha. For the present, any change 
 ih Sasha must be for the better.' 
 
 While the prince and his better-half were thus 
 discussing, somewhat imprudently, the demerits of 
 the new arrival in the presence of Olga, Proud- 
 sorin and his pupil had started on a ramble 
 through the country. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 RECONNOITRING 
 
 The nearest village to Prince Obolenski's estate, 
 the village of Volkovo, had previously belonged 
 to that nobleman. But a generation ago its 
 peasants had been his serfs. It was an average 
 Russian village, with only one pot-house. The 
 peasants' fields were fairly fertile, notwithstanding 
 the primitive agricultural methods employed, and 
 the peasants themselves were fairly well fed. 
 
 The village consisted of little log huts, generally 
 of but one room, and covered with a thatched 
 roof There were no traces of pretty little gardens, 
 no aesthetic creepers, no ornamentation of any 
 kind, such as meet the eye in the villages of merry 
 England and other countries. They were simply 
 wretched little hovels. 
 
 The high road leading through the village was 
 rutted, unmacadamised, and partly overgrown 
 with grass ; for it was absurdly broad — so broad 
 
 31 
 
32 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 that the little huts, planted in an odd, irregular, 
 scattered sort of way, seemed lost in its vastness. 
 The narrow rivulet of ruts, which ran along the 
 middle of it, made it look even broader than it 
 was. 
 
 The village presented an appearance of abject 
 poverty. The peasants of Russia, for the most 
 part, live merely to exist. All their energy, the 
 work of their whole lives, is devoted to the end 
 of paying the taxes of the State, and of procuring 
 sufficient food to keep themselves and their 
 families alive ; for, Russia being a land of 
 peasants, the peasants have to keep up the 
 expenses of the Empire, although they get little 
 in return. 
 
 In the centre of the village was the dwelling of 
 the starosta — the elder or mayor — and the gin-shop 
 stood by its side. This institution, the only one 
 for which the peasant cares, could be easily dis- 
 tinguished by the bush of birch wood which hung 
 over the entrance. It was a hovel like the others, 
 and had a door that hung half open upon the 
 upper hinge, the lower one having given way. 
 Behind the counter were ranged, on shelves, the 
 short-necked, square-shaped bottles, containing the 
 intoxicating liquid. It is called innocently, 
 * vodka ' — dear little water. The walls were orna- 
 
RECONNOITRING 33 
 
 mented with curious-coloured pictures of historical 
 events, battles, incidents from the lives of saints, 
 and portraits of members of the imperial family. 
 
 It is to such places of recreation that the peasant 
 comes to drown his misery and to seek oblivion. 
 Other relaxation he has none. 
 
 The scenery round about Volkovo was not 
 bad, though it hardly justified Prince Obolenski's 
 glowing eulogy. On a rising ground in front, 
 behold the church — looking, for all the world, 
 like a cruet-stand, the towers on either side, ter- 
 minating in globular domes, resemble pepper 
 boxes, the belfry, surmounted by a golden cross 
 rising out of a crescent, would do for the handle. 
 It is a gorgeous, quaint-looking thing, this church, 
 and appears to have been built of gilt ginger- 
 bread and sugar-plums, A pretty little river 
 meanders noiselessly along and disappears into 
 a forest. Behind, as far as the eye can reach, 
 are cornfields and meadow-land, and on the right 
 are beautiful linden trees, forming a delicious 
 park round the residence of the prince. 
 
 During their walk through this park to the 
 village Proudsorin succeeded in eliciting from 
 Sasha a few general ideas. 
 
 ' What would you like to be, Sasha ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' A gentleman, of course ? ' 
 
34 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' Not an officer, not a scholar ? Don't you want 
 to benefit your country in any way ? ' 
 
 ' I dare say I should not mind being an officer 
 and wearing a handsome uniform; but I had 
 much rather be a gentleman and do nothing at all' 
 
 * A gentleman's life is not all play, Sasha.' 
 
 * It is not very hard work. Look at papa ! He 
 goes to Moscow and Petersburg ; he plays cards, 
 enjoys himself, does what he likes, and asks 
 nobody any questions.' 
 
 Proudsorin felt the justice of the boy's re- 
 marks, and the hopelessness of inspiring him 
 with a sense of duty. Nevertheless, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 ' You must recollect that your father has served 
 his country. He has worked very hard, and is 
 entitled to rest. Besides, he is still a Member of 
 the Senate.' 
 
 But Sasha had got tired of this conversation ; 
 the subject was getting stale. He felt rising in 
 him a decided contempt for Proudsorin, which 
 was taking the place of the fear with which he 
 had at first inspired him. Proudsorin had lost 
 dignity in his eyes by placing himself upon the 
 same intellectual level with Sasha, who had been 
 accustomed to be either bullied or petted, but 
 who had never been treated as a rational being. 
 
RECONNOITRING 35 
 
 * Do you like the peasants ? ' said Proudsorin, 
 who saw that he was boring Sasha. 
 
 ' Papa says they work, and grow corn and 
 that. But then, he says they are lazy and get 
 drunk, and are very stupid. Mamma can't bear 
 them. She says they are dirty rogues.' 
 
 'Do you like them?' 
 
 ' No ! I like to see them when they are drunk : 
 they are very funny then.' 
 
 ' If you hate them because they are lazy, I 
 suppose you will work hard yourself to show them 
 a good example ? ' 
 
 At this remark Sasha's contempt got quite the 
 better of his latent fear. He flared up, and said 
 scornfully, — 
 
 ' I show them an example ! What for ? I work 
 to please them ! Why, I am a gentleman ; I need 
 not work. You don't want me to go into the 
 fields and plough and reap ? ' 
 
 Proudsorin felt it was difficult to argue with 
 this form of reasoning. 
 
 ' Sasha, you hate the peasants because they are 
 lazy ; but they know^ no better. You, who ought 
 to know better, are lazy also. Are you not much 
 vvorse than a peasant ? ' 
 
 * What ! You compare me to a peasant ! How 
 can you insult me like that ? I am a gentleman, 
 
S6 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 not a peasant, and I have nothing to do with those 
 nasty, stupid people.' 
 
 At this moment they came across a little 
 peasant boy who was running towards the 
 village. Sasha, by way of showing his disdain, 
 picked up a stone, and ran after the boy until 
 he got near enough to throw it at him. The 
 stone hit its mark, and the little boy, who had 
 been struck on the head, commenced to cry, and 
 quickened his pace. Sasha stooped down to pick 
 up another stone, but suddenly found himself 
 pinioned. Proudsorin had overtaken him, and 
 had tightly gripped both his hands, so tightly 
 that the tears started from Sasha's eyes. Proud- 
 sorin glared at him. Pale as the student was, he 
 now looked livid ; his eyes seemed to have sunk 
 deeper into his sockets ; his firmly-pressed lips 
 and knit brows showed that he was exercising 
 all his self-control in order to restrain his rage. 
 He shook Sasha as though he had been a common 
 peasant boy, and muttered between his teeth, — 
 
 'If I see you doing that again I will break 
 every bone in your body.' 
 
 Sasha's respect for Proudsorin instantly returned. 
 He burst into tears ; the brutality and pride were 
 all shaken out of him, and he implored Proudsorin 
 to let him go. 
 
RECONNOITRING 37 
 
 ' And this,' thought Proudsorin, ' this is nobiHty.' 
 
 When they reached the village Proudsorin 
 suggested that they should go into one of the 
 huts and have strawberries and cream. This 
 proposal rejoiced the heart of Sahsa, and they 
 consequently entered the nearest hut. 
 
 Kindly received by the buxom housewife, who 
 wore a blue print skirt over a white shirt, and had 
 a red handkerchief round her head, they sat down 
 to a refreshing repast But Proudsorin soon re- 
 gretted that he had brought his young cub into 
 the peasant's humble home, for there are numerous 
 ceremonies to be observed by those who wish to 
 be on visiting terms with the Russian peasantry, 
 and these little points of etiquette Sasha absolutely 
 ignored. 
 
 No Russian dwelling of any description is safe 
 from the importunate visits of the evil one, unless 
 it is previously blessed, and unless it is also pro- 
 tected by the presence of a sacred ikon, which 
 always hangs in a corner. The ceremony of bles- 
 sing a dwelling and hanging up a picture is en- 
 forced by the Greek Church, and is performed very 
 solemnly by the parish priest for a fee. In the 
 huts of the peasantry the sacred picture is hung in 
 the corner over the table, round which benches are 
 ranged. The corner seat, under the ikon, is the 
 
38 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 seat of honour, and is generally occupied by the 
 head of the family, the other members being 
 ranged in order of precedence. 
 
 The usual etiquette on entering a Russian hut 
 is to take off one's cap, turn towards the ikon, 
 cross oneself, and then piously bless, in the name 
 of God, the assembled company. 
 
 Sasha did none of these things, but coolly 
 walked up to the head of the table and sat 
 down under the sacred picture. Being the son 
 of the prince, of course he was treated with be- 
 coming respect, and politeness was not expected 
 of him, but Proudsorin felt ashamed of him, and 
 apologised nevertheless. 
 
 The interior of a peasant's hut is perhaps 
 worthy of description. It consists of one room, 
 which is a sort of cobbler's stall, being bed- 
 room and parlour and all. As we have seen, 
 one corner is relegated to the sacred picture, 
 and may be called the dining-corner. Another 
 corner is the toilet and general washing-corner; 
 here stands a tub, with slops, over it hangs, 
 suspended from a string, an earthen pitcher full 
 of water. It is at this tub that the peasant 
 performs his ablutions, by pouring a little of 
 the water in the earthen pitcher into his hands 
 and then dabbing it over his face. At the 
 
RECONNOITRING 39 
 
 back of the hut, and facing the door, is the 
 stove, an enormous brick structure, which rises 
 from the floor to the roof, and which has ledges 
 and shelves all round it, forming lofts, upon 
 which the family sleep ; sometimes they get 
 into the stove itself and sleep there. 
 
 Soon a good-humoured peasant, with a droll 
 expression of countenance, honest blue eyes 
 and good-humoured, sunburnt features, which be- 
 trayed a great deal of commonsense and much 
 shrewdness, entered. There was a genuine, 
 natural courtesy in his manner and a native 
 dignity as he bade Proudsorin and the young 
 prince welcome and sat down beside them, but 
 not until he had^been invited so to do by the 
 former. 
 
 The average Russian peasant is an easily 
 satisfied and fairly contented individual. He has 
 no morbid cravings for analysis or critical in- 
 vestigations into the fitness of things. He takes 
 the world as he finds it, and is glad if he is left 
 in peace to worry on and keep himself and 
 family in food. Of course this is due to his ex- 
 treme ignorance. So ignorant is he that he will 
 actually bribe the very officials he pays for to 
 leave him alone. But then we must remember 
 that nineteenth-century thought has as yet 
 
40 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 scarcely reached him. Philanthropists and 
 scientists do not come to harangue him ; no men, 
 with missions or with views, ever solicit his vote. 
 Although he is scarcely so blind to aesthetics and 
 the beautiful as not to admire the magnificence 
 of the rich, when he gets a chance of seeing it, 
 he has no insane desire to ape them, and loves 
 the squalor and dirt of his little hut which, to 
 him, comfortably smells of being lived in. Of 
 course, he has his cares, especially in bad times, 
 and he is so stupid that he does not quite 
 understand the advantages of paying taxes and 
 of being governed ; nay, it is even possible that 
 he would prefer not to be governed at all. 
 
 'Have you just come from Moscow, sir?' the 
 peasant asked politely. ' Moscow is very far 
 from here. I suppose you came by railway. I 
 have seen a railway,' he added proudly. 'What 
 do you think, sir : where is life easier — in the 
 country or in town ? ' 
 
 ' Life is easy everywhere for those who are 
 rich, but the poor find it just as hard in town as 
 in the country,' Proudsorin replied sententiously. 
 
 * You are quite right, sir,' the peasant an- 
 swered reflectively. ' Life is hard everywhere 
 for our brothers the peasants, and gentlemen 
 are well and happy wherever they go.* 
 
RECONNOITRING 41 
 
 ' Yes/ said Proudsorin, ' and that is the in- 
 justice of Hfe. You are badly treated. You 
 have to grow the corn and till the land ; you 
 are the man who feeds us all. You should be 
 the most cared for. But the lazy gentleman 
 is the happy man, and you have to work and 
 suffer. Never mind ; great changes are at hand.' 
 
 The peasant looked up in surprise and stared 
 hard at Proudsorin. 
 
 ' What changes ? Is the little father, the 
 Emperor, going to help and do something for 
 us?' 
 
 ' I will tell you what changes are going to take 
 place. Land will be divided equally among all. 
 Nobody will have more money than anyone 
 else. There will be no more starving, no 
 poverty, no misery. There will be no priests 
 to give money to, no police to worry you, no 
 gentlemen to work for ; all will be equal, and 
 all will be happy.' 
 
 ' Well,' the peasant said, ' we have expected 
 that the gentlemen would have to give us back 
 our land ; for, you see, when the Emperor made 
 us free he did not give us all the land that be- 
 longed to us. We got a little, but the gentle- 
 men took the bulk. But how we are going 
 to become equal and do without priests I don't 
 
42 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 know. Besides , the gentlemen must remain. 
 What are they to do ? ' 
 
 ' They will have to learn to do something/ 
 Proudsorin replied, smiling grimly. 
 
 ' Is the little father going to do this soon ? * 
 
 *The little father is not going to do it at all. 
 You will have to do it yourselves.' 
 
 ' How can that be ? I am a stupid, foolish 
 peasant. I don't understand you.' 
 
 ' You must do it yourselves. You have only 
 to unite and insist upon having your way, and 
 you will have it. There are more peasants in 
 Russia than gentlemen. You have only to make 
 up your minds to get what is your due, and 
 you will get it. You are strong and powerful. 
 You have only to raise your arms and strike, 
 and you can get what you want.' 
 
 At these words the simple-minded peasant 
 woman, who was listening, crossed herself and 
 said, — 
 
 ' The Lord preserve us ! Why, that would 
 mean rebellion. We should all be shot for 
 doing such a thing.' 
 
 Sasha was busily engaged eating strawberries 
 and cream, and paid no attention to what was 
 going on. 
 
 The peasant smiled and said, — 
 
RECONNOITRING 43 
 
 ' What you say is true. There are many of 
 us, and we could do what we Hked if we could 
 unite. But we are so stupid ; we are uneducated. 
 How are we to unite ? How are we to become 
 equal? Why, we cannot even agree in our 
 village here.' 
 
 Proudsorin would have liked to have stayed 
 to argue with this intelligent peasant, but he 
 felt it was unwise to talk too much in the pres- 
 ence of Sasha; besides, it was getting time to 
 go. So he rose and said, — 
 
 ' I am coming to see you again, and to talk 
 to you, and explain how it can be done ; but 
 now I must go. Here is some money ; good- 
 bye,' and Proudsorin and Sasha left the humble 
 peasant's hut. 
 
 When they had gone, the peasant turned round 
 to his wife and laughed. 
 
 ' What fools these gentlemen are ! He must 
 be mad this one. A gentleman never under- 
 stands anything, never talks sense ! Ha, ha, 
 ha ! We are all going to be equal ! Look here, 
 Akoulina, give me that money and let me go 
 and drink the madman's health.' 
 
 ' Anything else, you silly fool. I want the 
 money for the children.' 
 
 And so poor Proudsorin's humble tip became 
 
44 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 the cause of an undignified and unedifying quarrel 
 among these simple people in whose hearts he 
 wished to implant the principles of universal 
 brotherhood and equality. 
 
 Happily for his peace of mind, Proudsorin 
 little suspected what was going on, and went 
 back to the prince's mansion congratulating 
 himself upon his afternoon's experience. For 
 Proudsorin was a man with a mission ; a man 
 who intended to set the world right, and to 
 change the existing order of things. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 AGRAPHIA 
 
 That evening, at dinner, a neighbour dropped 
 in, and Proudsorin had an opportunity of hearing 
 the opinions of the gentry on the peasantry. 
 During the discussion which followed, into which 
 the tutor was dragged almost against his will, 
 Olga kept her eyes fixed upon the new member 
 of the family. He seemed to fascinate and 
 puzzle her. She could not understand him as 
 she could the neighbours and occasional visitors : 
 these were all easy to read, their characters 
 were not complex but seemed to be writ large 
 on their features. This man, however, was 
 different. There was a strange look of reserved 
 force and dignity about him which impressed 
 her. 
 
 After dinner she sang a simple popular song, 
 and then Prince Obolenski, with the princess 
 and their visitor addressed themselves to the 
 
 D 
 
46 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 serious business of the evening — that of playing 
 cards. Proudsorin was invited to join them, 
 but excused himself and retired to his room, 
 while Olga ran off to her old nurse, Agraphia, 
 with whom she generally spent the evenings. 
 To her she at once began to talk of the new 
 arrival, whose personality was uppermost in her 
 mind. Of course, living as she did in the 
 seclusion of a Russian village, every new face, 
 every new acquaintance was an event of import- 
 ance, calculated to enlarge her horizon and to 
 help her to understand a little more of that 
 mysterious thing called life, for which, as we 
 have seen, she had a vague and undefined 
 longing. 
 
 Agraphia was one of those old servants who 
 are only met with in countries where some 
 vestiges of patriarchal life still remain. She 
 regarded the Obolenski family as her own, and 
 treated Olga more like her daughter than her 
 mistress, and Olga fully reciprocated the tender 
 and affectionate regard of this valued servant, 
 and felt more at ease with her than with her 
 own mother. Indeed, she had but little reason 
 to show much affection for the princess, and 
 still less opportunity. That lady's time was so 
 thoroughly occupied with French novels and 
 
AGRAPHIA 47 
 
 cards and sleep that she had no leisure for 
 the society of her daughter. Her son she 
 perhaps rather liked, but even of him she did 
 not see much. And so Olga had come to look 
 upon Agraphia as her friend and confidant, 
 her companion and counsellor. 
 
 Agraphia was tall and thin, with kind, affection- 
 ate grey eyes. She was always dressed in black, 
 and wore a neat little black-silk skull cap on 
 her head, under which her carefully-parted and 
 smoothly-brushed white hair shone with a silvery 
 lustre. When she moved it was with a noise- 
 less graciousness, like a benevolent fairy in a 
 room where children are sleeping. Everything 
 she did, every gesture, had a nobility and 
 gentleness about it. She had a singularly regular 
 face, with a perfectly straight nose, and the most 
 beautiful teeth, notwithstanding her age. She 
 had been very beautiful in her youth, and Ivan, 
 who remembered her in those days, used to 
 say that hers had been a remarkable life, and 
 then he would shut his eyes and shake his 
 head, and not another word could be got out 
 of him. 
 
 Agraphia listened to Olga's description of 
 the student with interest, and then said, — 
 
 * But why do you look so sad, Olenka ? ' 
 
48 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' I have been listening to that student, and 
 somehow he has such strange eyes, and such a 
 peculiar voice, and he says such strange things that 
 make me think ; he quite made my flesh creep.' 
 
 ' What has he been talking about, my angel ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, about the peasants, and how poor and 
 wretched they are, and how we live upon them, 
 and how they are miserable so that we may 
 be comfortable. Of course, he did not say so 
 in so many words, but that is what he meant. 
 Papa did not agree with him, and whenever 
 Papa disagreed with him he seemed to smile 
 inwardly and to be saying to himself, " Oh ! 
 how stupid these people are ! " And somehow I 
 felt they must be stupid, and that he was clever ; 
 and of course that was very wrong. But then 
 all he said was quite true. It is quite true that 
 the peasants are very miserable, and that we 
 have all we want. I have often wondered, 
 Agraphia, how that is. It does not seem just, 
 does it ? ' 
 
 ' My darling, you have no right to say that 
 anything is just or unjust. We all have troubles, 
 and nobody is happy. You will have troubles, 
 too, my poor little dove, when you get older; 
 but I pray to God that you may not be foolish, 
 but bear patiently. We must all bear, bear 
 
AGRAPHIA 49 
 
 and pray. But what do students know about 
 peasants? All they know about is their books 
 and their studies : they know nothing about 
 other things.' 
 
 ' I wonder whether he is a good man or 
 a bad man ? ' 
 
 ' Shall I lay cards on him Olenka ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, do ! I wish you would/ said Olga, 
 delighted. 
 
 ' You know it is not right to lay cards ; 
 but I know you want me to do so.' 
 
 Olga did not altogether believe in cards 
 and fortune-telling, but still she had a sort of 
 sneaking weakness for all these superstitions. 
 She had been brought up in an atmosphere 
 of folklore, and though she had grown out 
 of it, still she felt, like many other people 
 older and wiser than herself, that there might 
 be something in it. 
 
 Agraphia went to a cupboard and produced 
 an old and soiled pack of cards. 
 
 ' Is he dark or fair ? ' 
 
 'Well, he is neither one nor the other.' 
 
 ' Then we will make him the king of hearts, 
 and Agraphia laid the king of hearts upon 
 the table and began shuffling her cards, 
 mumbling some weird magic spell as she sat 
 
50 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 crouching over the table. At last the cards 
 had been shuffled nine times ; the spell was 
 complete, and they were now placed in a 
 pretty pattern round the king of hearts. 
 While she was going through this performance 
 Agraphia manifested the most rapt attention, 
 and the expression of her face kept continually 
 changing with every fresh card she laid down. 
 ' What is that ace of spades on his heart 
 for ? ' Olga asked anxiously. 
 
 * He is a man of sorrow, darling,' Agraphia 
 replied. ' He has many cares and troubles. 
 He knows many bad people. Ah ! there is the 
 knave of spades at his feet ! He is a false 
 man, Olenka! Beware of him. He will do 
 mischief if he can ! ' 
 
 Olga shuddered. 
 
 * Who is that queen of clubs by his side ? ' 
 she asked. Agraphia looked at the card 
 and frowned. Olga was dark, and consequently 
 a queen of clubs. 
 
 ' I don't know,' she said ; * some woman 
 
 or other. Take care Olga ! Don't have too 
 
 much to do with him. He is dangerous.' 
 
 ' How do you mean, Agraphenka ? ' 
 
 ' I mean he is not a clean - handed man. 
 
 Men are all bad. But who is he? Only 
 
AGRAPHIA 51 
 
 a poor student ! No, he cannot do you any 
 harm. But be careful, Olenka ! ' 
 
 Olga looked at her nurse scornfully and 
 drew herself up. 
 
 'What do you mean, Agraphia Ikonorovna ? ' 
 she said. ' I am quite able to take care of 
 myself Why should I be afraid of him ? 
 Pah!' 
 
 ' Very well, my dear, very well ! They all 
 say that. The moth does not fear the candle 
 until it has burnt its wings ; but then it is 
 too late, my child ! The chickens do not 
 fear the hawk until he has pounced upon 
 them and carried them off; but then it is too late, 
 my darling. The little mice run about and 
 play ; but when the old cat has caught them it 
 is too late to run away, my poor little Olenka ! ' 
 
 ' What nonsense ! What should I be afraid of? ' 
 
 ' You know, my little Olenka, what you 
 have to be afraid of I have told you what 
 the dangers of the world are. Your mother 
 has not taught you. Do not despise the counsels 
 of poor old Agraphia. I know the world. I 
 have lived as much and seen and suffered 
 as much as most people, and I tell you men 
 are bad ! Beware of them, my tiny dove, 
 my young eagle, my darling ! ' 
 
52 A RUSSIAN V/ILD FLOWER 
 
 *01ga looked at Agraphia somewhat 
 haughtily with the self-conscious superiority 
 of her youth. Suddenly her expression 
 changed, her face lit up. 
 
 'When do you think I shall be sent to 
 town ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' What do you want to go to town for ? ' 
 
 ' To see the world, to begin life, to be a 
 woman ! ' 
 
 'Ah! they are all like that. They all 
 want to be women, to go to balls and to 
 shine and be admired. They read stupid 
 novels and they get vain, and then they pine 
 for pomps and gaieties. But when they have 
 gone through it all, and have become old 
 women, do not they wish they were children 
 again ! How they long to be innocent and 
 happy ! ' 
 
 ' But we cannot remain children for ever, 
 Agraphia. We were born to live, to go into 
 the world, to work and to do good. Oh ! I 
 want to act, to do something ; I am tired of 
 this life of eating and drinking and sleeping.' 
 
 ' When you go to town will you take your 
 old Agraphia with you ? ' 
 
 * Of course, I shall,' said Olga, covering her 
 with kisses. ' How could I live without you } ' 
 
AGRAPHIA 53 
 
 ' Then I will guard you as the apple of my 
 eye, and teach you to avenge our sex. I have 
 lived, Olga ! ' 
 
 For a moment her old face fired up, the 
 passions and sufferings that had lain dormant 
 so many years seemed to awaken within and 
 clamour for vengeance ; but when she looked 
 into Olga's tender, black eyes, all the wildness 
 seemed to be subdued. 
 
 ' No, Olga,' she said sweetly, ' you will be 
 happy. You are a wise and good child. You 
 will marry a kind husband, who will love and 
 respect you. But shun that student as the 
 plague ; fear him. Soon you will go to Moscow 
 and to balls, and you will be happy and get 
 married.' 
 
 ' Shall I really. Do the cards say so ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind the cards, my darling ; I know 
 you will be good and happy.' 
 
 When Olga returned to the drawing-room 
 she found her father and mother and the guest 
 still playing the national game of 'Vint' on the 
 verandah. 
 
 The evening was calm and beautiful, and so 
 she sauntered out into the garden to wonder 
 over the future. Olga spent her days in per- 
 petual wonder. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 IN THE GARDEN 
 
 Olga walked along the paths of her father's 
 immense wilderness of a garden. The paths 
 were flanked by dark and solemn bushes, black 
 and silent in the still night. Now and again a 
 leaf would quiver, a bat or moth fly across her 
 path. Here and there she would meet a tall, 
 grim tree keeping solitary watch while minor 
 vegetation slumbered. 
 
 Surrounded by darkness and silence, her soul 
 was filled with a sort of mystic dread. She 
 pondered over Agraphia's warnings and shuddered. 
 
 But, hark ! What was that ? Were those 
 footsteps behind her? She looked round and 
 stopped to listen, but could hear nothing. It 
 must have been a dog or a cat, or perhaps the 
 echo of her own. She went on. After a little 
 while she heard the same noise, again she 
 looked round, but could see nothing. H^r 
 
 54 
 
IN THE GARDEN 55 
 
 nerves, unstrung by the cards probably, had 
 made her over sensitive. As she continued her 
 walk she was seized with a sudden fear as of 
 approaching danger, which seemed to drive her 
 on, and behind she could distinctly hear foot- 
 steps. She was in her father's garden ; why 
 should she be afraid ? Nobody could harm 
 her, and she did not believe in ghosts. Still a 
 mysterious dread seemed to hang over Tier. 
 She sat down on a seat to calm herself, and 
 her thoughts went back to Proudsorin. Why 
 should she shun him ? But there were the 
 footsteps again, this time accompanied by a 
 rustling of leaves. While she was looking 
 round to see who was coming, she heard a 
 voice behind her saying, — 
 
 * I hope I am not disturbing pleasant reflections?' 
 She turned round quickly and saw Proud- 
 sorin standing beside her. He stood there like 
 an apparition — the man she was to dread, the 
 man she was to shun as the plague ! Her first 
 impulse was to run away; but there was some- 
 thing about Proudsorin that made her stay, a 
 kind of magnetism. 
 
 ' Do not let me interrupt your pleasant thoughts. 
 I was taking a stroll. You have a magnificent 
 garden, and the evening is beautiful.' 
 
56 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' It is beautiful/ she replied gently, and looked 
 up into his strong self-reliant face, fascinated by 
 his gaze. 
 
 ' I suppose you were thinking of the life in 
 Moscow which is in store for you, for I think I 
 heard you say at table that you intended spend- 
 ing the winter there, and for the first time.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Olga, blushing, and the flush on 
 her cheek was just discernible in that starlight 
 night ; ' yes, I hope I am going. I want to go 
 very much.' 
 
 ' Do you think there is anything especially 
 pleasing and attractive about town life ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I am old enough to begin the world. I 
 want to go into society. I want to breathe the 
 air of grown-up men and women, and hear the 
 opinions and views of others. I want to learn 
 and to know the reasons of things.' 
 
 ' Do you want to study scientific facts, or do you 
 want to understand social phenomena ? ' and a 
 gentle, indulgent, half-sarcastic smile played upon 
 Proudsorin's lips. 
 
 ' I want to know why there is so much injustice 
 in the world. I want to know what I have done to 
 deserve to be born rich, and why those poor 
 peasants, whom you were talking about, were 
 born wretched and miserable. I want to learn 
 
IN THE GARDEN 57 
 
 to help them and do something for them. In 
 what respect am I better than they? Why does 
 God permit these things ? ' 
 
 '■ Do you believe in a God, then ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I do.' 
 
 'Then you believe in all the wonder-working 
 pictures, in the miraculous relics, in the super- 
 stitions of the peasants and the follies of the 
 priests? Shall I tell you why there is injustice 
 in the land, princess? It is because the strong 
 have robbed and subdued the weak, and have in- 
 vented all this nonsense about holy virgins and 
 impotent saints, and rewards and punishments 
 in another life, of which we can know nothing, 
 in order to keep them in subjection.' 
 
 Olga flared up. Proudsorin looked like an evil 
 spirit, livid and uncanny. 
 
 ' But who ? ' cried Olga, ' has made these trees ? 
 Who has created this world ? Who has created 
 man ; and what becomes of us when we die?' 
 
 ' Science has not yet satisfactorily explained the 
 beginning of this little ball of meteoric dust which 
 we call the world. It has rolled and rolled and 
 rolled, like countless other similar specks, and it 
 has got bigger and bigger, and perhaps some day 
 it will drop into the sun from which, may be, it 
 originally proceeded. Man is probably descended 
 
58 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 from monkeys, or some now extinct animal, and 
 when he dies he will be eaten up by worms, who 
 will be eaten in their turn, and so the great kitchen 
 or workshop of nature goes on. Nothing is wasted, 
 because nothing can get away.' 
 
 ' I see you are a materialist,' said Olga, sadly. 
 
 ' I believe in what can be proved. I cannot 
 believe in things that are contrary to reason. If 
 there is a God, why does he play at hide-and-seek 
 with me ? And if we have souls, how is it that 
 the dissecting knife has not discovered them ? ' 
 
 ' Still you think something should be done for 
 the peasants ? ' she asked. 
 
 * Certainly ; but not only for the peasants. All 
 classes require emancipation from tyranny and 
 superstition, from the slavery of ignorance and 
 custom. Think of the ridiculous lives we all 
 lead. Everybody is afraid of everybody else. 
 The father's hand is against the son, the wife 
 regards her husband as her enemy. Everybody 
 is deceiving his fellows and is striving after some 
 vain thing which will give him neither satisfaction 
 nor comfort, and nobody is happy. The shams of 
 society are eating us up. Why should millions of 
 men be prevented from earning a living because 
 one emperor is afraid of another? Why should 
 the people of one country fly at the throats of 
 
IN THE GARDEN 59 
 
 those of another, with whom they have no personal 
 quarrel ? Why do people waste their substance 
 in entertaining others they do not even care for? 
 Why do women marry men they hate ? Why is 
 there so much humbug, so much false sentiment, 
 so much superstition, so much wickedness? 
 Because we have not the courage to be honest 
 and natural ; because what we call civilisation 
 is false and artificial. We must tear it up by 
 the roots and destroy it.' 
 
 ' And what is to take its place.' 
 
 ' The test of everything is its usefulness, and 
 useless things are false. Take, for instance, the 
 legal profession. What is the use of a lawyer? 
 His business is to set people by the ears. He 
 thrives on other men's misfortunes. He is a 
 parasite, a vulture. He has made law a technical 
 and complicated science and abolished justice. 
 Clearly, then, he is a noxious animal and should 
 be destroyed. Take, on the other hand, the 
 labourer. He is the most useful and the most 
 valuable member of society. But our selfish 
 rulers oppress and degrade him. Let us cut them 
 down and show them that the bee is a nobler 
 insect than the butterfly, the ox a grander animal 
 than the tiger. From classes let us turn to 
 customs. What is the use of marriage ? Do 
 
6o A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 you think laws and vows will bind a man to a 
 woman he has ceased to love ? On the contrary, 
 men and women hate each other often for no 
 other reason than that they cannot be separated. 
 But a man's love for a woman will not be any 
 the weaker because she can leave him when she 
 likes. Marriage is therefore useless and artificial. 
 Then take the laws of property. What are they 
 but the barbarous expression of the greediness 
 of an artificial aristocracy? Would there be any 
 thieves if there were no property? Would there 
 be privation if the rich could not tyrannise over 
 and starve their weaker fellowbeings, the poor? 
 In a natural state of society there would be no 
 property, consequently there would be no dis- 
 honesty, no thieves, no laws, no police ! ' 
 
 Olga was dazed and bewildered. There was 
 only one thing that she felt she could grasp. 
 What was to take the place of civilisation ? 
 What order of things was to succeed the present, for 
 some order she felt there must be, and that question 
 he had not answered. She repeated it timidly. 
 
 ' What did the world do before it had civilisa- 
 tion ! It lived happily and contentedly. Have 
 you not read,' he said, with a sickly smile, 'of 
 the Golden Age ? Let us but do away with what 
 is false, and truth will assert itself 
 
IN THE GARDEN 6i 
 
 * But how are you going to do away with this 
 civilisation which you hate ? ' 
 
 ' By making everybody see that it is false, and 
 by calling upon all honest people to unite. We 
 must shake society to its foundations, and turn 
 it over and over, until not a stone is left stand- 
 ing. We must, if need be, use violence and the 
 sword.' 
 
 * That means a revolution.' 
 
 '■ Yes,' Proudsorin replied grimly. ' Society has 
 grown too fat, it wants bleeding ; it should be 
 bled like a pig.' 
 
 In the meantime, Olga's feminine mind had 
 clutched a tangible, practical fact. 
 
 'But if we are to return to the Golden Age, 
 how are we to prevent ourselves from drifting 
 back to shams? The Golden Age did not 
 last for ever, and was followed by wars and 
 tyranny.' 
 
 * You have, I see, not studied history in vain. 
 You are quite right. The world moves by revolu- 
 tion. It revolves round the sun, and turns from 
 light to darkness, from summer to winter. The 
 history of man is subject to the same laws. If 
 by revolution we shall do away with tyranny, 
 tyranny and falsity will assuredly creep over us 
 again, until we once more throw them off And 
 
 E 
 
62 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 so the world rolls on, one revolution succeeding 
 another.' 
 
 ' Then what is the use of doing anything.' 
 
 ' The present is more important to us than the 
 future. That is the business of generations to 
 come. We want our Golden Age now. But 1 
 must apologise, princess ; it is getting late. I must 
 go back, for I have some letters to write.' 
 
 With these words he made a stately bow and 
 departed, leaving Olga to digest his crude theories. 
 
 Although her first feeling towards all he had 
 said was one of repugnance, yet he had interested 
 her. He was a strange man, with wonderful, 
 original ideas that made her think. There was, 
 she felt, much truth in what he had said, much 
 also that was noble and generous ; but every view 
 he had expressed was perverted and spoilt by 
 a curious twist in his mode of thought. His 
 mind was warped. And then he started from 
 false premises. No God ! How horrible ! That 
 peasants lived wretched and miserable lives was 
 true ; but was that a reason for killing everybody 
 else? Yet that was what his doctrine amounted 
 to. 
 
 Pondering thus, she returned to the verandah. 
 Her parents were still playing ' Vint ' with their 
 guest, oblivious of the misery round them, and 
 
IN THE GARDEN 63 
 
 little dreaming what problems Olga had been 
 discussing, or with whom. They did not seem 
 to fulfil any useful purpose. Their lives did not 
 appear to be of any importance. What would 
 it matter if their career of card-playing and eating 
 and drinking were to be cut short. Two useless 
 lives the less : that was all. And she herself. 
 What use was she ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! my little astronomer, it is time for bed and 
 sleep ! ' said her father. Yes, that was the end 
 of her useless day ! 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 PROUDSORIN 
 
 When Proudsorin returned to his room, he 
 looked pleased and happy. He felt that he 
 had been sowing seed in fruitful ground, and 
 that his day had not been wasted. His eyes 
 twinkled with a merry self-satisfaction as he 
 muttered, 'Charming girl! charming girl!' 
 
 He sat down at his table, seized pen and 
 paper, and commenced writing to his friend. 
 He wrote long and grew excited ; the colour 
 came and went as his pen ran faster and faster 
 over the smooth paper. Occasionally his eyes 
 flashed with a feverish brilliancy. He wrote 
 as follows : — 
 
 'At last I am at Volkovo, and at last I find 
 time to pen you a few lines. There is not 
 much hope of work, there is not much prospect 
 of success in this aristocratic nest. The worm 
 
 64 
 
PROUDSORIN 65 
 
 of indolence and self-contentment has eaten 
 its way too far into the flesh of the poor people 
 here to make me sanguine. 
 
 ' Oh ! how stupid our peasants are ! Nothing 
 can make them understand. They will not 
 see the truth. However one may explain, how- 
 ever one may teach, they will remain slothful 
 and ignorant, contented with their wretched 
 lot. They worship their Emperor, they respect 
 the gentry, they admire everything and they 
 understand — nothing. 
 
 'Sometimes I despair of success, and fear 
 that this poor country of ours will become a 
 slave to capital, like the Western States of 
 Europe. Sometimes it seems to me to be 
 inevitable that Russia will be engulfed in that 
 middle-class Liberalism which has ruined Eng- 
 land and France. 
 
 ' Sometimes I doubt the possibility of a revolu- 
 tion on our phlegmatic soil. But these moments 
 of weakness are transient. Does not history move 
 by revolution ? Is not every new development 
 achieved by revolution ? Then why despair ? 
 
 * With the mechanical precision with which 
 the ripe apple falls to the ground, with the 
 certainty with which a decaying corpse rots 
 and is decomposed, our civilisation must detach 
 
66 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 itself from the tree of Russian life and crumble 
 to dust. 
 
 *If we believe in scientific facts we must 
 believe in the inexorable scientific laws which 
 govern social organisms. As our enemies believe 
 in their foolish civilisation, so will we believe 
 in the the glorious revolution. 
 
 'We have reason on our side, they but a 
 fictitious power. Poor fools ! What will they 
 say when the illusion is dispelled ! What will 
 their forms and phrases and sentiments and 
 laws avail against the irresistible, crushing 
 brute force of matter? 
 
 * Real power resides only in the people. Ah ! 
 if they could but be made to feel their strength 
 they would soon see that they are the masters 
 of the situation ! 
 
 * But enough ! I must send you an account 
 of this place. 
 
 * I do not yet despair of the peasants. They 
 are dense, but they are honest, and reason is 
 on my side. They must see, they must be 
 converted ! If they can believe that two and 
 two make four they will believe us. 
 
 'But I have made a conquest, a delicious 
 conquest ! The people I am staying with are 
 soon summed up. 
 
PROUDSORIN 67 
 
 * Father — an old official, stupid, ignorant, con- 
 ceited, dishonest — a thorough fool. 
 
 ' Mother — an antiquated coquette, tries to be 
 a great lady and fails ; uninteresting — old 
 frump — bad French — thorough fool. 
 
 ' Son — red haired, knows nothing, no ideas, 
 no interests — empty headed — a thorough fool. 
 
 ' This latter is my promising pupil ! Much 
 good I shall do him ! 
 
 ' But there is another member of the family, 
 the daughter. She is by no means a thorough 
 fool. She is very pretty, very clever, very 
 innocent, very interesting. I am going to 
 convert her ! I am breaking ground gently. 
 Perhaps when I have to come back I shall 
 have converted her sufficiently to induce her 
 to join us, and in my company ! All this is 
 sanguine. But you see I am not idle ! How 
 1 would enjoy making these aristocrats feel 
 that they are after all only human beings like 
 the rest of us !' 
 
 Here the letter ended. Had Proudsorin fallen 
 in love with Olga ? Pooh ! How utterly absurd ! 
 Love ! Why Proudsorin made it his boast that 
 he loved nobody. Love was one of those foolish 
 phrases which he desired to banish from the 
 
6S A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 dictionary. What is love? Has anybody ever 
 caught it, measured it, analysed it? What is 
 the love of God but superstitious fear? What 
 is the love of country but selfish ambition ? 
 Our love of woman, of our parents, of our 
 friends, are but forms of selfishness. When we 
 give alms our heart over-flows with pride and 
 self-admiration, and we are pleased to think 
 ourselves so good and great, and others so 
 miserable and wretched. Charity is only con- 
 ventional sentiment. What man has ever per- 
 formed a purely disinterested action, without 
 hope of reward or advantage in this world or 
 some other? If there be such a man, he is a 
 fool and ridiculous. 
 
 With such opinions, Proudsorin would have 
 scorned the idea of love. It had been de- 
 liberately invented, along with others of the 
 same sentimental species, by designing plun- 
 derers, to the end that mankind might be kept 
 in bondage by them ; and for the surer accom- 
 plishment of this purpose priestcraft was called 
 into being. 
 
 Then why had he taken such an interest in 
 Olga ? What did he want ? Her money ? The 
 prestige of her name ? or merely her beauty ? 
 
 Proudsorin was no Epicurean. He was Spartan 
 
PROUDSORIN 69 
 
 in his contempt for luxury, and monastic in his 
 austerity. He laughed at classicism and chivalry 
 alike. But he believed in natural selection, and 
 he thought that Olga was particularly fitted to 
 become his help-mate. To arrive so rapidly at 
 such a conclusion was perilously near what less 
 superior persons would have called love at first 
 sight. 
 
 But Proudsorin wanted a help-mate. It was 
 a perfectly natural desire. A solitary life was 
 rather a ' one-horse affair.' Besides, there were 
 other considerations. Her influence would be of 
 great value to his party, so would her money, 
 and so would her splendid character. For he 
 had made up his mind that she had a fine 
 character. 
 
 Proudsorin was the son of a priest, a village 
 priest, and had from his earliest days been 
 familiar with abject poverty and hardship. He 
 had early shown great aptitude for his studies, 
 and had obtained a scholarship at a public 
 school, and thence had worked his way to the 
 university, where also he had won an exhibi- 
 tion with a stipend attached to it, Here the 
 iron of poverty entered his soul. Here he met 
 well-to-do and well educated young men ; here 
 he caught a glimpse of the paradise of youth — in- 
 
70 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 tellectual conversation, supper-parties and various 
 dissipations. But his nrieans permitted him 
 no more than a glimpse, and hence the purse- 
 proud patricians, whose intellectual equal and 
 even superior he felt himself to be, slighted 
 him, and made him feel ashamed of his thread- 
 bare coat and the virtues bred of necessity. 
 
 As his education progressed, his intellect was 
 able to take in a wider horizon. The world 
 opened out before him, and laid bare its in- 
 justices and abuses ; and underneath his pity 
 for the grievances of others there burned his 
 indignation at the treatment he himself ex- 
 perienced. His soul became animated by two 
 ruling principles, which were so blended that 
 he himself could not have distinguished them. 
 One was an earnest desire to help his fellow- 
 men in their weary struggle for existence, the 
 other was a vindictive determination to avenge 
 his own poverty. He found sympathisers among 
 his poorer fellow-students, oppressed and exas- 
 perated like himself, by an artificial civilisation. 
 But those whose duty it was to soothe his 
 angry spirit, to direct his energies into proper 
 channels, and to show him the way of ad- 
 vancement and culture — his professors — kept 
 aloof, and shunned the malignant and dangerous 
 
FROUDSORIN 71 
 
 student who was predestined to Nihilism and 
 revolt. 
 
 The transition from admiration to contempt 
 is but short. Proudsorin, who had thought 
 himself a philanthropist, was fast becoming a 
 cynic. From being constructive he became de- 
 structive. The restless and ambitious spirit in 
 him, infuriated by the neglect and contempt he 
 experienced, and the callousness and indiffer- 
 ence of others to the abuses existing in his 
 country, sought to destroy where it was unable 
 to help. From henceforth his only belief was 
 in a revolution — a thorough revolution, not a 
 mere change of government, but a social, in- 
 tellectual and moral revolution. He found many 
 disciples of this creed and joined them. In 
 other words, he became a Nihilist. 
 
 Too impatient to bide his time, fretting against 
 the bit of political and social convention, he 
 preferred to be an Ishmaelite, as so many others 
 have done. 
 
 He cultivated a strong unbending will, and 
 despised all the softer qualities of the soul. 
 Sentiment and poetry were effeminate and de- 
 bilitating. Robust strength, brute force, was 
 what he adored. Yet in his very admiration 
 of force there was a certain element of senti- 
 
72 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 mental weakness. It was morbid and hysterical. 
 The genuine brute has no sentiment about his 
 brutality. The truly strong man knows that 
 force is not everything. 
 
 Nevertheless, Proudsorin was strong in many 
 respects, perhaps stronger than he suspected by 
 the very reason of this unconscious strain of 
 sentiment. His certainly was a character that 
 made its influence felt on men of ripe age and 
 mature judgment ; indeed, there was an almost 
 irresistible fascination about him. But for an 
 inexperienced, ingenuous girl Proudsorin's com- 
 pany was even dangerous. 
 
 Agraphia had been well inspired when she 
 warned the young princess to shun him as the 
 plague. Unfortunately such warnings are not 
 always greatly heeded. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE COURSE OF EVENTS 
 
 The next day Proudsorin commenced to make 
 Sasha's life a burden to him. Princess Obo- 
 lenski watched the educational progress of her 
 boy with anxious solicitude and anything but 
 approval. The prince, however, was thoroughly 
 satisfied. Proudsorin was stern, repulsive and 
 unobtrusive. He did not thrust his pupil's de- 
 linquencies on the prince, but rather corrected 
 them himself, and yet he was not the sort of 
 man to usurp the place of father in the boy's 
 heart. 
 
 Agraphia laid cards with anxious regularity 
 night after night, but they never prognosticated 
 his speedy departure. Meanwhile the queen of 
 clubs fell but too frequently by his side, and 
 Agraphia trembled for her little one. She dis- 
 liked and dreaded that gloomy man, but knew 
 not how to protect her darling. 
 
 73 
 
74 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' God will guard her ! ' she would say as she 
 crossed herself piously. 
 
 Ivan did not like him either. ' Queer bird 
 that/ he used to say ; ' more like a Turk than a 
 Christian ! See how thin Alexander Michaelo- 
 vitch is getting ! It is wicked ! ' 
 
 Not even Barboss, Olga's faithful friend, good- 
 tempered and well-behaved as he generally was, 
 could stand him ; he always growled sotto voce 
 when Proudsorin approached him. 
 
 But Proudsorin himself was quite indifferent 
 to the hostility he awakened. He paid frequent 
 visits to the villages, and tried hard to make 
 himself popular with the peasants. He exerted 
 all his powers of argument and persuasion, but 
 could leave no lasting impression. The poor 
 gentleman was evidently not quite right in his 
 head they thought. He was treated civilly and 
 laughed at when his back was turned. His 
 convincing arguments and powerful anathemas 
 were received with outward acquiescence and an 
 interchange of nods and winks. There was no 
 footing to be gained in the minds of these 
 simple, ignorant men. But he was not to be 
 disheartened, and nothing would shake his faith 
 in himself and the cause he had espoused. 
 
 If he made but little progress with the peasants, 
 
r 
 
 THE COURSE OE EVENTS 75 
 
 he at least succeeded in arousing the curiosity of 
 Olga. He lent her books and taught her the 
 alphabet of his creed. He awakened her mind 
 and taught her to think critically. 
 
 Of course this involved his seeing and talking 
 with her frequently, and being much in her 
 society. Had Proudsorin been less cautious 
 and careful these meetings would have attracted 
 attention and given rise to suspicion. But he 
 was discreet. He had set to work with a pur- 
 pose ; he was not merely drifting. Not even 
 the vigilant Ivan could detect anything unusual 
 or confidential in the relations between Princess 
 Olga Michaelovna and that Turk, though he had 
 been entreated to keep his eyes open by the 
 anxious Agraphia, who distrusted human nature 
 and placed much faith in cards. 
 
 Perhaps Agraphia was right ; for Olga had 
 gradually come to the conclusion that Proud- 
 sorin's mission was to reform society, and that 
 all he required to strengthen him in his work 
 and sanctify it was religion. This was not in 
 itself a dangerous conclusion, but for the fact 
 that she was beginning to feel it might be her 
 duty to convert him, and this feeling was coupled 
 with a sense of her own inadequacy to the task, 
 which distressed her. Probably this was the 
 
76 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 reason why her old joyous childishness was 
 leaving her, why she was often sad and pre- 
 occupied — Agraphia noticed all these things — and 
 why she was silent and ill at ease in Proud- 
 sorin's company. 
 
 Strangely enough Proudsorin himself often felt 
 bashful and awkward when he was alone with 
 this simple-minded girl of seventeen. When her 
 eyes met his and she dropped them to the 
 ground with a blush and a certain air of em- 
 barrassment, he would feel quite shy and uncom- 
 fortable. He would not know what to say, or 
 what to do ; a tremor would come over him, 
 his self-possession and calmness of mind would 
 forsake him, and he would feel like a little 
 child. It was a most extraordinary phenomenon 
 and he could not understand it. Clearly his 
 nerves were out of order. He also experienced 
 a feeling of restlessness when he was away from 
 Olga. Sometimes, when teaching his pupil, the 
 form of Olga would present itself to his imagina- 
 tion, and he would instantly forget all about 
 Roman kings and rule of three, and feel quite 
 childishly and idiotically happy. 
 
 One day Princess Obolenski gave a picnic. A 
 large number of people were invited to lunch, 
 and to proceed afterwards in troykas^ or carriages 
 
THE COURSE OF EVENTS 77 
 
 drawn by three horses, to a glen (called the 
 Devil's Hollow) of a neighbouring forest. Russians 
 are large-hearted people, generously disposed, 
 and not unkind even to tutors, so Proudsorin 
 was made one of the party. 
 
 A picnic is as uncomfortable in Russia as in 
 England. Dresses are spoiled, rheumatism con- 
 tracted, trousers ruined ; in short, there is no 
 difference. 
 
 When Princess Obolenski's guests had drunk 
 their tea on the grass, camped round a white 
 tablecloth, they strolled about the magnificent 
 forest, and had soon sorted themselves in couples, 
 as is the custom at picnics. 
 
 Proudsorin, whose soul was not attuned to 
 frivolous levity while there were still peasants to 
 convert, moodily sauntered off by himself to 
 meditate upon the wrongs of the oppressed, 
 among whom he also counted himself. 
 
 By the purest accident he came upon Olga 
 sitting alone and melancholy in a shady, secluded 
 spot, which she knew by heart. He was sur- 
 prised to find the beautiful daughter of a princely 
 house alone and unattended by admirers. He 
 was in a strange mood. He could not himself 
 account for his behaviour, but he then and there 
 made her a declaration. The cold-hearted, hard- 
 
 F 
 
78 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 headed, scoffing Nihilist fell on his knees and 
 poured his love into her ear. 
 
 ' You are not happy here/ he said, * surrounded 
 by foolish and frivolous people, living vain and 
 empty lives. Accept me, elope with me, and we 
 will devote ourselves to the cause of the poor, 
 we will work for the oppressed. I know I have 
 not much to offer ; you have been used to luxury 
 and ease, I am poor and needy. But I can 
 work. I have arms and strength ; and oh ! Olga 
 Michaelovna, I love you, I love you deeply, 
 passionately, tenderly ! I love you with my 
 whole being. I have never loved anything or 
 anybody before. My life is yours.' 
 
 Proudsorin's fine eyes glowed with passion. 
 
 Olga felt afraid of him, afraid of his face, which 
 looked as though he could devour her, afraid of 
 his earnestness, and she was frightened by the 
 suddenness of the proposal. She did not know 
 what to say. It was an absolutely novel situa- 
 tion, and, although no girl objects in her heart 
 of hearts to being proposed to, she felt all the 
 responsibility of her position. She was interested 
 in Proudsorin, she even admired him, but she had 
 not made up her mind whether she would cast in 
 her lot with his ; perhaps she had not seriously 
 considered the question, for she felt that she 
 
THE COURSE OF EVENTS 79 
 
 must reserve her judgment about all things, and 
 especially about men, until she had lived the life 
 of town, and seen something of the world. So 
 she answered, — 
 
 ' I have known you for so very short a time 
 — and — I am very young still — Papa says I am 
 only a child — and — and — ' 
 
 * Oh ! love me ! love me ! my own sweet Olga ! 
 Do not reject me ! I was a lonely, miserable man 
 until I saw you. You have brightened my life. 
 And without you, I feel it, life would be unbear- 
 able now. Love me ! oh ! love me ! ' 
 
 He pleaded piteously, almost sobbing. Sud- 
 denly a change came over his face, a fierce light 
 shone in his eye, he jumped up from the ground 
 and attempted to seize her in his arms. It was 
 a momentary spasm. She recoiled before him. 
 He felt the mistake he had made almost before 
 he had committed it. But he had lost all self- 
 control. 
 
 Before he had time to think, he felt himself 
 suddenly pinned by the collar, and saw the faith- 
 ful Barboss with his teeth at his throat. Barboss 
 held him firmly, and shook and shook him again, 
 until Olga called him off, and ran away with him, 
 laughing at the unromantic ending of a trying 
 experience. Her laughter was more nervous re- 
 
8o A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 action than ridicule, but Proudsorin felt himself 
 considerably humiliated, and kept aloof for the 
 rest of that day. 
 
 The drive home was enjoyable. The young 
 men and maidens of the party filled the air with 
 their tuneful voices, which sounded well to the 
 accompaniment of the bells on the horses. It 
 had grown late, and the rich harvest moon 
 shone from the deep blue sky, the trees looked 
 mysterious and solemn, the wide-stretching corn- 
 fields desolate and lonely, and Proudsorin felt 
 miserable and wretched. The gaiety of his com- 
 panions jarred, on his nerves. What right had 
 they to be happy when he was sad ? These 
 light-hearted superficial aristocrats irritated him ! 
 But nobody knew of his sorrows, and no one 
 cared for them ! 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 A SCENE 
 
 Olga was naturally very much upset and 
 worried by the episode recorded in our last 
 chapter, and spent a restless night. To be ex- 
 posed to the repetition of such annoyance was 
 not pleasant. At the same time, she did not 
 feel quite as angry with Proudsorin as perhaps 
 she ought to have felt. After all, the incident 
 had introduced that spice of romance into her 
 life for which she had had certain vague and 
 undefinable longings, and although Proudsorin 
 was not quite her ideal, he was a strangely 
 fascinating person ; besides, there was at least 
 nothing vulgar or common about him. 
 
 She made a confidante of Agraphia, her nurse, 
 for there was no one else whom she could con- 
 fide in ; but Agraphia only warned her against 
 the student, and bade her shun him. This was 
 hard, for he was interesting to talk to. 
 
 Pondering over the problem which had been 
 8i 
 
82 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 thus involuntarily thrust upon her, she went 
 out the following morning to draw inspiration 
 from the glorious air, and collect her thoughts. 
 She was quite surprised at meeting Proudsorin 
 in the garden. 
 
 He approached her, looking awkward and 
 sheepish, and said, with his eyes to the 
 ground, — 
 
 ' I wish to ask your forgiveness for the 
 rudeness I was guilty of yesterday. My feel- 
 ings were too strong for me, and I could not 
 master them. You are not angry with me? 
 You will forgive me ? We are friends, are we 
 not?' 
 
 Such an appeal from Proudsorin was touch- 
 ing. Olga was moved by its genuine sound 
 and by the apparent remorse which prompted 
 it. Compassionately she replied, — 
 
 ' We were never enemies. I forgive you with 
 all my heart,' and she simply and grandly 
 stretched out her hand with a queenly dignity. 
 The gesture was free from coquetry and intended 
 as a token of friendship, and of friendship only. 
 
 But Proudsorin, who was little versed in the 
 tactics of the drawing-room, misinterpreted her 
 speech, and passionately seized her hand and 
 covered it with kisses. 
 
A SCENE 83 
 
 Olga's face flushed to an angry red, which 
 he again misinterpreted, and she tried to with- 
 draw her hand quickly, but he would not let 
 it go. 
 
 ' Olga ! ' he exclaimed, * may I hope?' 
 
 ' I am sorry, M. Proudsorin, that you should 
 be under the impression that 1 have given you 
 any reason to believe that I — that I — ' 
 
 ' But will you not let me hope ? When I 
 go back to my work in Moscow I shall have 
 courage and strength to persevere, if I can 
 think that here, in Volkovo, there is one who 
 cherishes at least an interest for me. The one 
 person in the world whom I love, is you, Olga. 
 I love you madly. I cannot help it. I have 
 fought against it, but it is no use fighting, 
 implore you take compassion on me. I am an 
 outcast, a miserable, lonely wanderer on the 
 face of the globe. I have my duty before me, 
 my work, my task, but pleasure and happiness 
 have been banished from my side since child- 
 hood. I saw you, you took an interest in my 
 ideas, and you have awakened a new feeling 
 within me, a happiness I had not dreamed of 
 Oh ! do not plunge me into despair, back into 
 the horrible loveless life of the past ! ' 
 
 Olga burst into tears. 
 
84 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * If you believe in the truth of the opinions 
 I hold, why will you not join the army of 
 workers ? We are poor and few, but we are 
 faithful and true, and we shall persevere and 
 prosper. The great revolution is imminent; it 
 will be glorious to be on our side. Oh ! love 
 me, and I shall endeavour to be worthy of 
 your love ! ' 
 
 'What have I done,' Olga exclaimed through 
 her tears, 'that you should thus persecute me? 
 What right have you to suppose that I love 
 you? What reason have you to think that I 
 care for you in any other way than as a 
 friend ? ' 
 
 ' With your gentle ways and sweet spirit 
 you have enchanted me, and under the spell of 
 that enchantment I am not responsible for what 
 I do. I am unable to think; I can only tell 
 you that I love you. Take pity on me. Do 
 not be cruel. Do not turn me away ! At 
 least give me hope ! ' and he sank down on 
 his knees before her and clasped her feet in 
 his arms. 
 
 ' So, sir, this is the way you gvwQ your 
 lessons ! You seem to forget that I engaged 
 you to teach my son, and not my daughter ! ' 
 
 The voice was that of Prince Obolenski, 
 
A SCENE 85 
 
 and at the first sound of it Olga had jumped on 
 one side ; and Proudsorin sprung to his feet and in 
 an instant, turned round ready to face the storm. 
 Prince Obolenski was an easy-going gentleman, as 
 we have seen, but he was formidable when roused. 
 
 ' How came you into that position ? ' he said. 
 ' What right have you to address my daughter, 
 my daughter, sir, in that manner?' 
 
 ' Your daughter, sir,' Proudsorin retorted, 
 ' is the daughter of a corrupt official, of a lazy 
 money-grubber, without ambition and without 
 ideals. I am an honest man, and neither your 
 daughter nor you yourself need be ashamed 
 of me. I can make her more honourable 
 proposals than the vile and empty-headed 
 officers that swarm the garrison town, than 
 the thick - brained idiots who live in the neigh- 
 bourhood, or the foresworn, depraved and 
 vitiated aristocrats who lick the hands of their 
 official superiors in St Petersburg or Moscow. 
 / am an honest man, and you have no right 
 to be ashamed of me ! ' 
 
 Saying these words, or rather emitting them, 
 for they came like a volley, Proudsorin drew 
 himself up to his full height and eyed Prince 
 Obolenski with an air of contemptuous superiority. 
 The prince was beside himself with rage. 
 
86 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' You beggar ! you ragged pauper ! How- 
 dare you speak like that to me ? A few years 
 ago I could have had you flogged at my door, 
 and down the village, like a vagabond, you 
 infamous little insect ! Get out of my sight ! 
 Be off with you ! Don't darken my door 
 again, you beast ! ' 
 
 He was going too far, and Proudsorin made 
 a threatening movement, which took the 
 prince's breath away. There is no knowing 
 what might not have happened if Olga had 
 not screamed and fainted. Proudsorin instantly 
 caught her in his arms and kept her there. 
 
 ' Do not excite yourself,' said Proudsorin, 
 with withering scorn, ' but go and call your 
 servants ! ' 
 
 Prince Obolenski felt that this was sound 
 advice, but he did not think it was safe to 
 leave his daughter alone with this vulgar and 
 unprincipled person, so he called for Ivan 
 at the top of his voice. That discreet body- 
 servant was not far off, and instantly came 
 running up and assisted Proudsorin in carrying 
 Olga home. 
 
 * And now, ' Prince Obolenski exclaimed, 
 w^hen Olga had been safely placed upon a 
 sofa on the verandah, ' now be off, before 
 
A SCENE 87 
 
 you are turned out of the house. Go and pack 
 up your things and leave this house. What 
 are you waiting for ? Leave it instantly ! 
 If you do. not go at once, I will send for 
 the district police to remove you by force.' 
 
 Proudsorin laughed haughtily. 
 
 ' I don't wish to remain here,' he said. 
 * Have the goodness to pay me what you owe 
 me and I shall take my departure at once.' 
 
 Prince Obolenski thrust his hand into his 
 coat pocket and pulled out a note-book, from 
 which he hurriedly took a bundle of roubles, 
 which he counted over and handed to Proudsorin. 
 
 ' There,' he said, ' is your filthy money,' — 
 it was literally filthy — ' now go ! ' 
 
 Proudsorin took the notes, counted them 
 over, made the prince a ceremonious bow, 
 and quitted his presence. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 DEPARTURE 
 
 Proudsorin went to his room to pack his 
 few things into his modest box. Before 
 leaving, he sat down and scribbled a note to 
 his friend in Moscow. 
 
 ' I am coming back,' he wrote. * The air of 
 this aristocratic nest is bad for my health. 
 The climate of Volkovo disagrees with me. 
 I am a fool ! I trusted in a woman and 
 believed in her, and I have met the fate 
 I deserved. — I have been laughed at ! She 
 coquetted with me, humbled me to the dust, 
 and then scorned me. And I love that woman. 
 I who thought I could never be such a fool ! 
 I would have endured anything for her sake. 
 
 ' There is no happiness in the world, nothing 
 but pain and toil ! That I should ever have 
 so far forgotten myself and my creed as to 
 believe in woman ! How could a pampered 
 
DEPARTURE 89 
 
 aristocratic toy rise to noble ideas ? I was 
 foolish to expect it, and I have reaped the 
 due reward of my folly. But I will not 
 reproach her. She could not help it ; it is 
 in the blood. It was all my fault, and I 
 have only myself to blame. 
 
 * Her vile father has discovered my secret 
 passion. Caught me kneeling at her feet ! Just 
 imagine me kneeling ! And I am leaving 
 to-day. I have had no success with the 
 peasants, and am altogether despondent' 
 
 This private letter, the outpouring of a 
 bitter and disappointed spirit, shows what 
 Proudsorin suffered at this rude interruption 
 to his idyll, the only one he had ever had. 
 Was it his pride, his vanity, or his heart 
 that suffered most ? It is difficult to say ; 
 probably they all three suffered equally. 
 We are too prone to imagine that men 
 like Proudsorin have no sentiments. Besides 
 being in love, and knowing the hopelessness 
 of his passion, he despised himself for falling 
 so easy a victim, and running counter to his 
 tenets. 
 
 Love was the amusement of milksops and 
 degenerate aristocrats; it could have no place 
 in the creed of an austere iconoclast. 
 
90 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 'What a fool I am!' he said to himself; 
 ' and then why am I poor and needy, and 
 why is that little girl rich and noble ? Ugh ! 
 It is all wrong ! All false ! But a day of 
 reckoning will come, the revolution is ap- 
 proaching. I think I can hear it rumbling 
 in the air ! ' 
 
 Perhaps it was illogical for Proudsorin to wish 
 to bathe his country in blood because a young 
 lady of seventeen had rejected him. But thus 
 men of this stamp always reason. Their will 
 is the supreme law, everything must give way 
 to it. Nevertheless, they are little more than 
 microbes on this terrestrial globe ; they are, after 
 all, as helpless as the rest of the human insects ; 
 and though they may kick to their heart's 
 content against the iron bars of circumstances, 
 they cannot get out of their cages, they can- 
 not change the immutable laws of fate, do 
 what they will. 
 
 So Proudsorin had to pack himself off, having 
 accomplished nothing, only added one more to 
 the many tortures which he had to endure. 
 
 He found a one-horse, springless tarantass 
 waiting to drive him to the nearest railway 
 station, for Prince Obolenski, although he could 
 lose his temper, never forgot what was due to 
 
DEPARTURE 91 
 
 his dignity, and would not have suffered any 
 inmate of his house to be turned out neck 
 and crop without the means of getting away. 
 
 Sasha was beaming with delight as he bid 
 his tutor farewell. This was another form which 
 had to be observed, but neither the prince nor 
 the princess showed themselves. Ivan, however, 
 stood guard to see that Sasha did not come 
 to any harm, and to watch the tutor safely 
 off the premises. 
 
 When he was gone, Ivan crossed himself 
 devoutly, and said, ' Peace be with you ! Go 
 in God's name ! ' Then he turned away and 
 m.uttered, ' Thank God ! At last we are rid 
 of that Turk ! ' 
 
 When he had got some little distance from 
 the house, Proudsorin turned round to see if 
 a trace of Olga could be discovered, and he 
 thought he saw a white handkerchief waving 
 from a window. It might have been Sasha 
 offering a last insult, but he thought he could 
 discern a female form, and he preferred to think 
 it was Olga. So he waved his handkerchief in 
 reply. She was not cruel, he pondered, and 
 it was kind of her to at least wave a farewell. 
 
 As he drove through the village he met several 
 peasants, who stood, cap in hand, and wished 
 
92 A J^USSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 him God speed on his journey. But the moment 
 he had driven by they nudged each other and 
 said, with a laugh, ' There goes the madman.' 
 
 Yes, there he went, and he felt that his 
 departure was melancholy and undignified. And 
 yet he arrived with such high hopes ! 
 
 'But why should I despair? Who can tell 
 the future ? We may meet again. Who knows ? 
 Ah ! What nonsense ! ' 
 
 And so he travelled along the high road to 
 the station, too deeply immersed in thought to 
 note the humours of the way. There were the 
 usual caravans of peasants' carts, avoiding the 
 macadamised road the peasants' paid to main- 
 tain, and driving by the side of it along a 
 double rivulet of ruts, probably to save the metals. 
 He could hear the peasants singing in monoton- 
 ous tones as they trudged by the sides of their 
 wiry, bony, little horses, upon whom they occasion- 
 ally, lavished such expletives as, ' Noo Tyelyonok ! ' 
 which, being interpreted, is nothing more terrible 
 than 'Now then, little calf!' But what he did 
 feel was his isolation. He seemed to belong 
 nowhere. The aristocrat drove him from his 
 door, the peasant eyed him askance, and there 
 was no place for him in the work-a-day world. 
 His business was to upheave, to destroy. But 
 
DEPARTURE 
 
 93 
 
 in order to upheave you must be able to take 
 hold, and you cannot destroy without possessing 
 the means of destruction ! It was a hot and 
 dusty day, and the heat and the dust and the 
 jolting of the springless tarantass, and the gloomi- 
 ness of his thoughts, made him feel hopelessly 
 despondent. But, nevertheless, he did not mean 
 to succumb. He would persevere and succeed. 
 
 When Ivan was able to report to Prince 
 Obolenski that the tutor had safely left the 
 house, that nobleman gave a sigh of relief 
 and then proceeded to his wife's boudoir, where 
 the princess spent the best part of the day 
 smoking cigarettes and reading French novels 
 or playing at patience. 
 
 ' I have turned that student out of the house, 
 princess.' 
 
 ' Well, after what happened, I should hope so,' 
 she replied, with dignity. 
 
 ' Yes ; besides, I am afraid he is a dangerous 
 character. I hear strange stories about him. He 
 has been trying to enlighten the peasants,' 
 
 * Ah ! One of these new Nihilists that Tour- 
 guenicff has discovered. You had better put the 
 police on his track.' 
 
 ' I do not want to make myself ridiculous. We 
 G 
 
94 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 are living in strange times. Everybody seems to 
 be more or less of a Nihilist to-day. It is a fashion 
 and will die out. Still, I am glad he has gone.' 
 
 ' But what have you come to tell me ? ' said 
 the princess, who knew her husband, and knew 
 he had not taken this trouble without an object. 
 'Well, I have thought that perhaps it would 
 be well if you were once in a way, by way of a 
 change, to discharge your maternal duties, and 
 talk to Olga for half-an-hour about les convenances. 
 You should tell her that elopements and romantic 
 affairs are bad form, and that tutors are not de- 
 sirable husbands, and so on.' 
 
 ' What a bore ! ' said the charming princess. 
 'Can't you do it? ' 
 
 ' I admit it is rather a bore to have to talk 
 about these things, but I am afraid it must be 
 done, and I do not see how I can do it so well 
 as you. You see, you are her mother, and then, 
 you have such tact,' he said, with a smile that 
 was capable of two interpretations. ' Besides, you 
 have experience ; you can speak with authority.' 
 ' I see, you wish me to do the dirty work, as 
 usual. Is there anything else you wish me to 
 do?' 
 
 ' You have a wonderful penetration. Yes, there 
 is something else.' 
 
DEPARTURE 95 
 
 'Ah! I thought there was. What is it?' 
 
 ' I wish to ask you whether you would very 
 much object to writing a letter to the Ouspenskis ? 
 They are cousins, or something of that sort, and 
 very charming people, and I don't think you have 
 written to them for some time.' 
 
 ' Well ? That is not all.' 
 
 ' No, it is not. You see, the Ouspenskis are 
 in the best society in Moscow. They are rich : 
 they are always very kind to me.' 
 
 • Especially Madame Ouspenski, I suppose.' 
 
 ' Yes ; and I think a little attention would be 
 graceful. They have a son, too, a very charming 
 fellow.' 
 
 ' I think I begin to understand.' 
 
 ' You see, princess, Olga wants a change ; she 
 wants a little amusement. She is lonely, and all 
 day she sings sentimental songs that drive me 
 mad. I think, perhaps, if we were to let her 
 have a winter in Moscow it might give her other 
 ideas.' 
 
 ' What ? This is to be her punishment for flirt- 
 ing with the tutor. Really, it is too ridiculous ! ' 
 
 * Well, you see, she is a very pretty girl, which, 
 of course, you cannot admit. Mothers never think 
 their daughters good-looking so long as they are 
 beautiful themselves ; but if she insists on falling in 
 
96 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 love and turning people's heads, why, there is 
 no knowing whom she will not run away with. 
 Nobody is safe, not even old Ivan, when a girl 
 like Olga is desperate ; and there is positively 
 nothing that a woman's vanity is not capable 
 of/ 
 
 'She would have to be very vain and very 
 desperate indeed to elope with poor Ivan,' said 
 the princess, smiling. 
 
 * Well, it is clear to me that she is thirsting 
 for admiration, and when a woman thirsts for 
 admiration, as you know very well, princess, she 
 must have it, at all costs. Now, I think we do 
 not want to have any mistakes made, do we ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said the princess, pensively. ' But I am 
 not disposed to make a martyr of myself, and 
 run up to Moscow and play the part of the de- 
 signing Mamma, and make myself odious to 
 everybody.' 
 
 'You could not make yourself odious if you 
 tried. But why should you not ask Madame 
 Ouspenski to invite Olga ? ' 
 
 ' Now, I understand. Very well, I will do so.' 
 
 Prince Obolenski kissed her hand and left hen 
 He had been so diplomatic, because he had had 
 some fear that Princess Obolenski might have 
 wished to accompany her daughter, and that 
 
DEPARTURE 97 
 
 would have been expensive, and would have, 
 perhaps, interfered somewhat with his own amuse- 
 ments. But the princess preferred staying at 
 Volkovo for reasons that he little suspected, and 
 would have cared for less, had he known them ; 
 as he himself used to say, he was too civilised to 
 be jealous. 
 
 So Olga received her lecture, and bore it as 
 meekly as she could, and learned, some weeks 
 later, that her distant cousin, Mme. Ouspenski, 
 had invited her to spend the winter in Moscow 
 as her guest, and that the invitation had been 
 accepted. Her vanity was aglow ! Was it vanity ? 
 Much that we attribute to vanity is often but a 
 thirst for knowledge and action. Everybody 
 wants to live, everybody wants to do something 
 or other. Everybody who has a conscience, must 
 feel that he or she has been born for some 
 purpose, for the fulfilment of some useful end. 
 This irresistible longing to know and do, is 
 regarded by the world as wickedness in young 
 men, as vanity in girls. Of that kind of vanity 
 Olga had her share, and especially did she 
 want to study the problems of life, as presented 
 to her by Proudsorin, by the light of her ex- 
 perience, and to know what her attitude towards 
 them should be. 
 
98 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Many people would call this frame of mind 
 morbid. That is a question for abstract discus- 
 sion. But it exists in England, and it is common 
 in Russia. 
 
PART II 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE OUSPENSKIS 
 
 In due course of time Olga found herself embarked, 
 in the company of her faithful Agraphia, on her 
 journey, and comfortably ensconced in a luxurious 
 railway carriage which was to carry her to that 
 life which she thirsted for, and of which Moscow 
 was the symbol. Her father accompanied her to 
 the station, and Ivan wept copiously at the 
 thought that his young mistress was to be 
 sacrificed on the shrine of fashion like so many 
 others. But her mother was quite indifferent, 
 and Sasha evinced no signs of emotion. Her 
 father kissed her as he wished her good-bye, 
 while his eyes, which were unused to such demon- 
 strations, glistened with tears. A bell rang, the 
 locomotive whistled, and Olga was whisked off. 
 
 The scenery was flat and uninteresting ; the pace 
 was the pace that kills, by reason of its slowness 
 but at length, after many hours' weary travel, they 
 
 99 
 
loo A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 arrived at the white-stoned, gold-tipped Moscow, 
 the ancient capital, with whose name are bound 
 up, in the Russian imagination, countless historical 
 associations. 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski was waiting for them. She 
 was a tall, stately and elegant person, with much 
 dignity, much charm of manner and perfect taste. 
 Although dressed with the greatest simplicity, she 
 had an unmistakable air of distinction and refine- 
 ment. She had had little difficulty in identifying 
 Olga, although she had never seen her before, 
 and entered the carriage in which she was, went 
 straight up to her, asked whether she was not 
 Princess Olga Obolenski, and then kissed her, 
 telling her her name. There was no fussiness 
 about her ; she did not ask after all the members 
 of the family, as is the custom in the country, but 
 she gently led Olga out of the railway carriage 
 and introduced her to her daughter, Alexandrine — 
 a tall, graceful, but haughty-looking young lady, 
 who had a general appearance of being much 
 fatigued with the effort of living. She made a 
 desperate attempt at a friendly demonstration, but 
 it was a failure. 
 
 ' I am so glad to come to Moscow, and it is so 
 kind of you to have me,' said Olga, in her frank 
 and unconstrained manner. 
 
THE OUSFENSA'JB loi 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski smiled bGnevoientiy;^j?iti> toc^. 
 stock of Olga. She rather liked the girl, she 
 thought ; she was more than pretty, and she was 
 not sauvage, but was charmingly simple and 
 natural, always a sign of good breeding. De- 
 cidedly, she thought, Olga would be a credit to 
 her salon. 
 
 ' I suppose you have lived all your life in the 
 country?' said Alexandrine, with conscious 
 superiority. 
 
 ' Yes, indeed, I am quite a little country 
 mouse ! ' 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski smiled again ; it was clear 
 that Olga had conversation. She would be an 
 acquisition. 
 
 ' It must have been very dull,' said Alexandrine, 
 patronisingly. ' No shops, no theatres, no balls, 
 no society to speak of, I suppose.' 
 
 * None at all,' said Olga, laughing, ' My prin- 
 cipal companion was my dog — poor Barboss — and 
 my only entertainment the library.' 
 
 • Poor child ! ' said Mme. Ouspenski. ' Well, 
 we must make up for lost time.' 
 
 They now left the station and found a handsome 
 landau waiting for them. 
 
 'Unfortunately,' said Mme. Ouspenski, 'neither 
 my husband nor one of my sons was able to 
 
I02 A J^mSIAJV WILD FLOWER 
 
 -ac^^mpciny me", s'o ' there is no one to help us 
 into the carnage but the footman. I prefer a 
 footman, he does it so much better ! ' 
 
 Two magnificent barbs were harnessed to the 
 carriage. The coachman was a superbly stout 
 person in a dark blue caftan^ a small beaver hat 
 like a beef-eater's, and with a venerable silver- 
 grey beard. He looked more like a priest than a 
 Jehu. The footman had the appearance of a 
 general officer in undress uniform. He wore a 
 kepi of dark gray, trimmed with crimson, and 
 a military cloak, with a cape of the same colour, 
 trimmed with crimson braid and lined with pale- 
 grey silk. 
 
 The carriage had the most luxurious springs, 
 and Olga thoroughly enjoyed her drive. It had 
 grown late ; the streets were illuminated by count- 
 less lanterns, and soon Olga got into the Tvers- 
 kaya, the Piccadilly of Moscow, and saw that long 
 perspective of lights and brilliant shops. 
 
 To be seen to advantage, Moscow should be 
 viewed at sunset from those southern heights — the 
 Sparrow Hills — from whence Napoleon first cast 
 eyes on it. From here, the gilt cupolas of its 
 churches, its numerous ponds and gardens, its 
 bright green roofs and the green circle of boule- 
 vards which surround it, the haughty Kremlin 
 
THE OUSPENSKIS 103 
 
 and Imperial Palace on a hill in the midst — all 
 these give it an air of Oriental splendour in the 
 glow of the setting sun, which is reflected by 
 all the churches and ponds till the eyes are 
 dazzled with the scene. 
 
 But Olga approached the town of her im- 
 agination through back streets and slums little 
 calculated to inspire her with admiration. It 
 w^as not until she had left these sordid sur- 
 roundings behind that she had began to feel 
 that she was indeed in the ancient capital of 
 a great nation. 
 
 Moscow is a curious mixture of Paris and 
 Byzantium. Here are Italian villas, in beauti- 
 ful gardens ; there classical palaces, with severe 
 colonnades and gates and screens and wings ; 
 and there enormous caravanserais, with countless 
 storeys ; and beside them funny little wooden 
 cottages — tumble - down, plastered, ramshackle 
 buildings. Some of the streets have shops 
 that not even London could rival ; and the 
 life of Moscow is more real, more genuine and, 
 in many respects, more brilliant than that of 
 the artificial capital — the mouldering, decaying 
 St Petersburg — which seems to be yearly sink- 
 ing, inch by inch, into the morass upon which 
 it is built. 
 
I04 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 The Ouspenskis lived in a modern palace on 
 the fashionable Pretchistenka. It was lofty, but 
 had only two storeys. The windows were of 
 plate-glass ; the arms of the Ouspenskis, in 
 stucco, adorned the pediment. The door was 
 opened by a stately porter who looked like a 
 pensioned field-marshal. The hall was marble. 
 Looking-glasses abounded, a crimson velvet 
 carpet ran up the marble staircase, the balus- 
 trade of which was gilt. 
 
 All this magnificence was enhanced by the 
 lighted gas lamps which the shortened days 
 had rendered necessary. Olga had not antici- 
 pated so much grandeur. 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski herself showed her to her 
 luxurious room, and told her to come down as 
 soon as she was ready, or she would be late 
 for dinner. 
 
 When Prince Obolenski determined to place 
 Olga under Mme. Ouspenski's protection he 
 only gave another instance of that sagacity 
 and wordly wisdom which had distinguished 
 him through life. 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski was an active leader of 
 Moscow society ; indeed, her husband considered 
 her too active. But she was, nevertheless, with- 
 out reproach, the breath of scandal had never 
 
THE OUSPENSKIS 105 
 
 touched her, and her salon was pure and free 
 from taint. To have the entree to her house 
 was a privilege. She was the mother of a 
 family which was a credit to her. She was a 
 brilliant woman of the world, though in days 
 gone by her admirers had reproached her with 
 a coldness of disposition, which was the only 
 explanation they could find for her virtue ; 
 and she was one of the social leaders of that 
 Slavophil movement of which the heir-apparent 
 to the throne- -afterwards Alexander III. — was 
 the recognised head. General Ouspenski, her 
 husband, who had served his country with dis- 
 tinction, was a man of great wealth and great 
 simplicty of mind and life. He was not a 
 genius, but he admired his wife, and was 
 even interested in her Slavophil views, the great 
 mission of the Russian people to regenerate the 
 world. There was one subject upon which he 
 did not agree with his wife, and that was the 
 subject of domestic expenditure. But she knew 
 how to manage him, and, besides, had a hand- 
 some fortune of her own. Perhaps General 
 Ouspenski had just a slight contempt for views 
 and theories, and was of a somewhat practical 
 turn of mind, for he was every inch a soldier ; 
 but he knew perfectly well that civilians had 
 
io6 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 not that plain commonsense which soldiers have, 
 and so he was indulgent. 
 
 Miss Ouspenski was not so amiable. She 
 was an only daughter, and spoilt and petted 
 by her parents as well as by the world. Many 
 people considered her 'unsympathetic/ and attri- 
 buted her stiff haughtiness of manner to the 
 sinister influence of a prim English governess 
 to whom her education had been confided, and 
 who had had somewhat provincial ideas of what 
 was ' lady-like.' 
 
 Of the two brothers, one — Vladimir — was a 
 civil servant and an enthusiast, pale and thin, 
 with the manners of a young lady ; the other — 
 Nicholas — was a genial officer of Hussars. 
 
 Before reaching Mme. Ouspenski's cosy little 
 drawing-room, where the family was assembled, 
 Olga had to pass through the stately ball- 
 room and the splendid reception-rooms, which 
 looked vast and palatial. 
 
 General Ouspenski rose to greet her. His 
 uniform set off his manly figure, and his shin- 
 ing, bald forehead, clear blue eyes and white 
 moustache, gave him an air of courtly, military 
 benevolence. 
 
 Vladimir was a tall and sickly young man, 
 with a bilious complexion and effeminate hands. 
 
THE OUSPENSKIS 107 
 
 Nicholas, who was in full uniform, scarlet 
 tights and hessians, and a gold-laced jacket, 
 seemed bent on captivating the new arrival. 
 His face generally wore an easy, careless ex- 
 pression, which suited his curly golden hair, 
 his fair moustache, full red lips and fresh com- 
 plexion. Though not tall, his figure was per- 
 fectly proportioned. 
 
 After a few preliminaries the general asked 
 her, — 
 
 ' And how do you like country life ? ' 
 
 ' Not at all,' she answered frankly. She felt 
 quite at home already. 
 
 'We must try to make you like town better,' 
 said the general, kindly. 
 
 During dinner the family talked incessantly. 
 
 * Have you heard the last news from Herze- 
 govina?' asked Vladimir, who was a member 
 of the Slavophil Committee and of the Red 
 Cross Society. * Do you take an interest in 
 Bulgaria?' 
 
 ' I think Olga takes a greater interest in her 
 dinner than in politics,' said Mme. Ouspenski, 
 good naturedly, for she did not think the country 
 cousin knew much about the questions that were 
 agitating Russia at the time. 
 
 Olga was not conscious of eating to excess, 
 
io8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 but at once imagined that her appetite was too 
 vigorous for refined town life, so she said the 
 journey had made her hungry. Alexandrine in- 
 stantly said she envied her. 
 
 ' Travelling always makes me unwell/ she said. 
 ' I have to rest a day before I can eat a morsel 
 after a railway journey.' 
 
 'That is because you eat bon-bons all the 
 way,' Nicholas interposed, who was already be- 
 ginning to look upon Olga as his property. 
 
 In the course of the dinner Olga was speedily 
 put au courant of the Bulgarian atrocities and 
 the extraordinary volunteer movement, the wicked- 
 ness of England, the splendid speeches of Mr 
 Gladstone and the impending war. 
 
 'You should join our Red Cross Society,' said 
 Vladimir. ' Mamma is on the committee.' 
 
 * Yes, but don't become a nurse and run off 
 to Servia to nurse the wounded, as so many 
 of our young ladies have done,' Nicholas ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 ' Don't put such foolish ideas into her head,' 
 said Mme. Ouspenski, laughing. 
 
 * Oh ! I should so much like to do that, to be 
 of use ! ' Olga exclaimed. 
 
 Alexandrine looked mildly shocked. 
 
 * You will be much more useful here, helping 
 
THE OUSPENSKIS 109 
 
 to collect money,' said Mme. Ouspenski, who was 
 rather alarmed. 
 
 *Yes/ said Vladimir, Sve want young ladies 
 to go about collecting alms in society. We 
 want to awaken Russia to a sense of her duty, 
 for it is clearly her duty to deliver Bulgaria 
 from Turkey.' 
 
 * Why don't we do it ? ' Olga asked naively. 
 
 * Because we are afraid,' said Nicholas. ' We 
 are afraid of ourselves, afraid of Europe, afraid 
 of everything.' 
 
 ' But if it is our duty, we should do our duty. 
 Why don't we openly declare war and defeat 
 the Turks and settle the question ? God will 
 not forsake us if we do right.' 
 
 ' Brava ! What an excellent politician you 
 make,' the general exclaimed. 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski thought it necessary to educate 
 Olga a little on the subject. 
 
 ' There are many reasons against our declaring 
 war. The emperor does not wish it. That is 
 one reason — ' 
 
 'And that is an all-sufficient one,' the general 
 interrupted. 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski now proceeded to explain 
 some of the tenets of the Slavophil faith, and 
 Olga involuntarily compared inwardly these views 
 
 H 
 
no A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 with those of Proudsorin, the one fanaticism 
 with the other. 
 
 ' What a noble idea ! But have we not other 
 duties to perform first ? ' she exclaimed. 
 
 ' What other duties .? ' asked Vladimir, severely. 
 
 'Should we not perfect ourselves first before 
 perfecting others? Look at our poor and our 
 miserable peasants. Should we not do some- 
 thing for them ? ' 
 
 * Why, you are a regular Nihilist,' said Mme. 
 Ouspenski, laughing. 
 
 ' I think you are confusing political with social 
 questions. We were speaking of our political 
 mission, not our social duties. These are dis- 
 tinct subjects,' and Vladimir looked extremely 
 wise, and smiled with bland politeness. 
 
 ' Yes, but charity begins at home,' said Olga. 
 
 *Well, we do enough charity, don't we, Alex- 
 andrine? said Mme Ouspenski, with a sigh. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 A COTERIE 
 
 After dinner several people dropped in, some 
 of them lions. There was Professor Sophistinoff, 
 the promising young philosopher, whose very 
 original views have since startled Russia not 
 a little. Then there was Mr Placid Smith, an 
 English globe-trotter, known to be perpetrating 
 a book on Russia. There was old Professor 
 Gloubokoff, the national historian of the Lap- 
 landers, renowned for the punctuality with 
 which annually he produced a new volume of 
 his history and his wife increased the popula- 
 tion, alternately by a boy and a girl ; and 
 generally respected for the soundness of his 
 views. There was also the charming and senti- 
 mental Countess von Wiesen, whose intellect 
 was not impaired by her phenomenal size. 
 The dreamy and sylph-like character of her 
 ideas was in strange contrast to her substantial 
 
112 A RUSSIAJ'T WILD FLOWER 
 
 frame. She was an ardent admirer of Goethe 
 and had published a volume of poems in which 
 she had striven to imitate Shelley. Yet another 
 lion did Mme. Ouspenski's saloti contain that 
 evening, it was the terrible little hunchback, 
 Russalkin, the proprietor and editor of the 
 Slavyanski Vestnik, the man who had created 
 the Bulgarian question, and whose hatred of 
 England was only equalled by his admiration 
 for English public schools. There were, besides 
 these lions, a few ladies of fashion, some men 
 of the world, and one musician. 
 
 The conversation interested Olga. 
 
 ' I see those foolish boys at St Petersburg 
 have again made themselves ridiculous,' re- 
 marked General Ouspenski, alluding to a recent 
 demonstration by the students, for Nihilism 
 was then in its infancy. ' I suppose they will 
 be whipped and sent to bed, and we shall hear 
 no more of them.' 
 
 ' 1 am afraid we shall,' said Russalkin. ' Our 
 system of education is wrong, and we shall 
 have to pay for it.' 
 
 ' You are quite right,' said Sophistinoff, ' the 
 western schools of thought introduced into our 
 universities are beginning to tell. The growth 
 of materialism amongst our young men is 
 
A COTERIE 
 
 113 
 
 subverting all true Slavonic ideas. Unless we 
 have a strong reaction, it is impossible to say 
 what will happen.' 
 
 * But what are we to return to ? ' asked the 
 Countess von Wiesen. ' Not to barbarism, 
 surely?' 
 
 * We must develop the Slavonic idea,' said 
 Sophistinoff, ' for western civilisation is played 
 out. I am only afraid that we shall not arrive 
 at our ideal without having to wade through a 
 revolution. To avoid a revolution we should 
 flee the snares of western philosophy.' 
 
 ' But we are indebted to Germany for ideal- 
 ism, to France for our elegance, to England 
 for comfort,' she continued, with a graceful in- 
 clination of the head to Mr Smith. 'We get 
 our science from Germany, our artistic feeling 
 from France, and England teaches us practical 
 utilitarianism.' 
 
 ' The practical utilitarianism of England, 
 Countess,' Sophistinoff replied, in sugared 
 accents, ' is the spirit of cynicism and greed, 
 and France is a syren who beguiles us with 
 her graceful arts in order to lure us to our 
 moral death. England has exploded meta- 
 physics and holds the lofty philosophy of India 
 in bondage ; she has produced a Clive and a 
 
114 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Darwin ; and France, materialist and pleasure- 
 loving France, has contributed a Voltaire and 
 a revolution towards our destruction.' 
 
 * A Balzac and a Comte,' said somebody. 
 'What do you say to Germany?' asked 
 
 Professor Gloubokoff. 
 
 * Germany, sir ? ' said Sophistinoff, sweetly, 
 ' Germany is the representative of conceit and 
 pedantry. Germany has given us philosophies 
 and technical terms which lead to the confusion 
 of thought. Germany's real mission is to 
 destroy. The Germans have destroyed ancient 
 and modern Rome ; they have produced a 
 Schwarz and a Luther, a Schopenhauer and a 
 Strauss ! * 
 
 ' Yet they have such excellent doctors ! ' 
 said an inconsequential baroness, who loved 
 Wiesbaden, but nobody paid any attention to 
 her. 
 
 ' No ! ' Sophistinoff exclaimed, growing politely 
 eloquent, 'the only salvation for mankind is 
 to be found in the Slavonic idea.' 
 
 Mr Placid Smith had been much interested 
 in Professor Sophistinoff 's eloquence, and now 
 asked, with the air of a scientific explorer, — 
 
 * But what is the Slavonic idea ? ' 
 
 * It means a fostering and development of 
 
A COTERIE 115 
 
 our peculiar form of civilisation,' said Professor 
 Sophistinoff, authoritatively. 
 
 ' Oh, I see,' Mr Smith replied, as though he 
 understood him perfectly. 
 
 *At the present day,' Sophistinoff continued, 
 ' the world is governed by three moral forces : 
 Mahomedanism, western civilisation, and the 
 Slavonic idea. I leave out heathendom, be- 
 cause that is not a moral force. Mahomed- 
 anism is defunct, and western civilisation is 
 moribund. There is nothing but the Slavonic 
 idea left. The Slavonic race is young and 
 vigorous. Here we have all the elements of 
 true civilisation. No pauperism, a pure land 
 system, personal government, no fictions, no 
 shams, no parliament, no feudalism, a democratic 
 autocracy. You can see at a glance that the 
 future must belong to us. You will recognise 
 that it must be the destiny of our race to 
 deliver the East from her Philistine conquerors- 
 pardon the expression — to revivify the glorious 
 philosophy of Buddhism, and regenerate it. 
 There can be no question that the Slavonic 
 idea will ultimately overcome western fallacies 
 and introduce true civilisation throughout the 
 world.' 
 
 ' You are quite right,' said Mr Russalkin, 
 
ii6 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' that is its ultimate destiny. But we must 
 move by stages. The first step to be taken 
 towards the fulfilment of our destiny, and this 
 should be the great aim of our politicians, is 
 the union of all Slavonic nations into a homo- 
 geneous whole under one ruler. When we 
 have accomplished that, we shall be able to 
 shed our civilising light over the rest of the 
 world. But to accomplish this union we must 
 have Constantinople, and turn the decomposing 
 Mahomedan carcase out of Europe.' 
 
 ' Constantinople, the capital of Byzantium, was 
 the cradle of the Orthodox Faith,' said Mme. 
 Ouspenski, 'and it is through that alone that 
 the salvation of mankind can come. We must 
 have Constantinople.' 
 
 Sophistinoff was silent, a cloud of melan- 
 choly passed over his features. How was it 
 possible to talk of the Greek Church, of Chris- 
 tianity, in the same breath with Buddhism and 
 the glorious mysticism of the East ? He felt 
 he had been casting his priceless pearls before 
 unappreciating swine. 
 
 But Mr Placid Smith had listened with some 
 concern. 
 
 'You will excuse me, I hope,' he said, 'if I 
 venture to differ from you as regards the de- 
 
A COTERIE 117 
 
 cadence of western civilisation. Being an 
 Englishman, perhaps I am prejudiced, but I 
 cannot think that civilisation is effete. On 
 the contrary, it seems to me to be showing, 
 year by year, signs of increasing vitality.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I daresay,' said Sophistinoff, indul- 
 gently, *that this appears to be the case to 
 you. But believe me, that ever since the 
 French Revolution, nay, ever since the Re- 
 formation, Western Europe has been declining. 
 All the essential features of European civilisa- 
 tion are gradually perishing. Where is your 
 feudalism? Where is your chivalry? Your 
 religion, your form of government, your family 
 life, they have all disappeared. Of Christianity 
 nothing but forms are left. Instead of govern- 
 ment you have organised anarchy. Ideas of 
 equality have undermined your aristocracy. 
 Your society is rotten in every part. No, 
 my dear sir, Europe is doomed ! To the im- 
 partial mind there can be no doubt about it. 
 Why ! your own eminent men confess it ! 
 What says Carlyle? Is not your Ruskin al- 
 ready weeping over you ? ' 
 
 * But surely,' said the Countess von Wiesen, 
 * Europe has at present the best of the argu- 
 ment. It has given us literature and science 
 
ii8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 and political economy, and the great mechanical 
 inventions.' 
 
 'My dear countess, the literature of to-day 
 is sordid and grovelling. True literature, true 
 poetry, and grandeur of thought has come from 
 the East. Read the Vedas ; they are true 
 literature. Surely Rabelais and Zola are not 
 literature! As for the mechanical inventions, 
 they are a sort of modern tower of Babel, and 
 they will prove our ruin. We are trying to 
 deceive ourselves that we can live without 
 work, that we can invent machines to do our 
 work for us. But what has been the effect of 
 the introduction of machinery? It has been 
 the means of enriching the few at the expense 
 of the many, and it has turned all trade into 
 confusion. Political economy, which is but the 
 handmaiden of selfish capitalists, has helped to 
 bring this confusion about. Political economy, 
 countess, is not a science at all, it is the religion 
 of selfishness.' 
 
 Olga listened to all this with bewildered as- 
 tonishment. What it meant she could not 
 exactly say, but she felt at least that she was 
 among intellectual people, and it was interest- 
 ing to hear how far Proudsorin's views were 
 those of society. At least she was able to per- 
 
A COTERIE 119 
 
 ceive that the reactionary Slavophilism of Pro- 
 fessor Sophistinoff, interlarded as it was with 
 mysticism and verbiage, was not very far re- 
 moved from the drastic anarchism of the Nihilist. 
 They both hated the present complicated order 
 of things, and both wished to return to a more 
 primitive and a more honest state of society. 
 She quietly subsided into a corner and listened 
 to the conversation of the giants. Mr Smith 
 tried to convince the professor that England 
 was not effete. Countess von Weisen talked 
 Weltschmerz and Wahlverwandtschaften on the 
 sofa, while Mme. Ouspenski urged upon Russal- 
 kin the importance of taking Constantinople. 
 
 Olga's rapid mind quickly passed these 
 theories in review, and felt intuitively that they 
 were but phantasies of the brain. To her femi- 
 nine common sense there was at least some 
 practical benevolence in Proudsorin's views, 
 whereas all these people were but sentimen- 
 talists. They cared more for their theories 
 than for the countless groaning multitude of 
 fellow-beings who were suffering and toiling, and 
 perhaps starving, at that very moment. What 
 did the masses care about Constantinople? Its 
 conquest would not give them bread. The 
 ultimate triumph of the Slavonic idea would 
 
120 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 make no difference to them, the Hterature of 
 the Vedas and the self-effacement of Buddhism 
 were poor substitutes for food and clothing. 
 The masses were content to leave other 
 nations in peace, so long as they themselves 
 had the wherewithal to live. Yet it was upon 
 the masses that the work of the world de- 
 pended. It was the toil of the masses which 
 made life possible to the intellectual epicures 
 assembled in that drawing-room, who seemed 
 to be completely oblivious of their existence. 
 The only subject of real interest to mankind 
 was the well-being of humanity, practical philan- 
 thropy in some shape or other. But that was 
 too vulgar and too sordid a consideration for 
 these intellectual giants. 
 
 While she was thus listening and wondering, 
 Nicholas seated himself on a chair by her side, 
 and said, — 
 
 * I am afraid you found the conversation at 
 dinner rather a bore.' 
 
 There was a complacent self-satisfied look 
 about this young man which Olga thought in- 
 sufferable. He was much too conscious of his 
 personal advantages and took it too much for 
 granted that all young ladies must find his 
 society pleasant Olga absolutely resented his 
 
A COTERIE 121 
 
 assuming that she was bored by serious talk, 
 and so she said, — 
 
 'You must think me very frivolous.' 
 
 'You would be a very exceptional person 
 if you were not. All these people here are 
 serious because amusement has been denied 
 them. They are either old or fat or ugly. 
 Now it would be unnatural for you to be 
 serious.' 
 
 ' Thank you. I do not think I am very 
 serious. But I like to listen to serious people.' 
 
 ' And not to the frivolous. That is a snub.' 
 
 'You do not mean to say that you are 
 frivolous ? ' said Olga, innocently. 
 
 Poor Nicholas looked uncomfortable. 
 
 ' Oh ! no ! ' he said, ' I am tremendously 
 serious, very much in earnest, especially when 
 in such charming society. I couldn't help it.' 
 
 ' What an insufferable coxcomb ! ' thought 
 Olga. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE WORLD 
 
 Olga was now fairly launched into the world. 
 Such as it is, we must accept it ; it is perhaps 
 not an unpleasant place so long as we are 
 content to play our humble parts in it with 
 modesty, and can remain onlookers ^t the 
 comedies and tragedies of others without 
 jealousy, without any infusion of our own 
 personal feelings. But it is only the cold- 
 blooded who can thus keep aloof, and find 
 even in the misfortunes of their friends food for 
 amusement. It is not given to humanity to get 
 outside itself, and all attempts to do so have 
 been failures. We cannot escape the pleasure 
 and pain. We may indeed think them unequally 
 distributed, but we cannot avoid either the one 
 or the other. Hence we are involuntarily drawn 
 into the vortex of life, like the molecules we 
 are ; we are tormented by conflicting passions, 
 
THE WORLD 123 
 
 emotions and impulses. We can indeed choose 
 between the good and the bad, and endeavour 
 to the best of our ability to do justice, love 
 virtue, and walk uprightly ; but lest we should 
 fancy ourselves gods, we are constantly re- 
 minded that our origins are low, base, animal, 
 of the earth, earthy and perhaps of the ape 
 apish. Human nature is contagious, and not 
 even the philosopher can keep himself disin- 
 fected. We cannot even do away with snob- 
 bishness nor keep ourselves untainted from 
 vulgarity, which pervades the social atmosphere 
 and attacks all. 
 
 One of the first accomplishments that Olga 
 had to learn was riding. It was the fashion 
 to go to a riding-school kept by a certain Herr 
 Schultze, and there to ride about while the band 
 played and a number of admiring friends stood 
 or sat in the gallery and killed the afternoon 
 with conversation. Before she could take part 
 in this ceremonial rite, or pleasure, she had 
 to take lessons. Of course Nicholas person- 
 ally superintended the riding. He introduced 
 Olga to Herr Schultze, and made Alexandrine 
 play gooseberry. Herr Schultze was a person- 
 age and a favourite. His handsome features 
 and well set up figure had won him many 
 
124 ^ RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 conquests. He was a German cavalry man, 
 who had modelled himself upon the English 
 species of the equestrian 'toff/ and dressed 
 very much like a London omnibus driver, 
 hence he was immensely respected. 
 
 He soon made friends with Olga after the 
 manner of his kind, and she, who was a born 
 horsewoman, was delighted with her lesson. 
 
 As she drove back with her friends from 
 the Moscow Tattersall, for so it was ambitiously 
 called, to the Boulevards, Olga started at the 
 sight of a familiar face. In a large, broad- 
 brimmed, soft felt hat, walking slowly down the 
 street, apparently absorbed in thought, was 
 Proudsorin. Suddenly he lifted up his eyes 
 and recognised Olga, but as though she was 
 some curious animal rather than a human be- 
 ing whom he knew, and then he instantly 
 turned his eyes to the ground again. 
 
 * What a strange man ! What a romantic 
 face ! How interesting he looks ! ' said Alex- 
 andrine, after the carriage had passed him. 
 
 'Some poor student, I daresay,' said Nicholas, 
 'dreaming of the future most likely,' and the 
 carriage turned into another street and Proudsorin's 
 form was lost to view. 
 
 But when they drove up at their door and 
 
THE WORLD 125 
 
 alighted from the carriage, a droshka passed 
 them containing a cadaverous figure in a 
 felt hat 
 
 * What a curious coincidence ! ' said the ob- 
 servant Alexandrine. ' That is the very same 
 man whom we saw in the Bronnaya ! One 
 of us has made an impression. It must be 
 you. He looked at us hard.' 
 
 Having had her first ride, Olga was soon 
 to go to her first ball, and for this purpose 
 Mme. Ouspenski judiciously placed her under 
 the hands of Mme. Celestine. The result was 
 electrifying, and Alexandrine felt envious. 
 
 When the day arrived and she appeared 
 arrayed for conquest, the general and his two 
 sons were dazzled, and Nicholas especially was 
 most profuse in his compliments. 
 
 But somehow Nicholas's attentions rather 
 bored Olga. She felt that there was a large 
 share of conceit in his admiration. He seemed 
 to say, ' You know I do not say this sort 
 of thing to everyone ; you ought to feel very 
 much flattered at having the handsomest man 
 in Moscow for your admirer.' This was not 
 the way in which Olga fancied she would 
 like to be wooed and won. 
 
 T'ne ball they were going to was being given 
 I 
 
126 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 by the Nevielski's. Prince Nevielski has since 
 filled several important posts, and has even 
 fallen into disgrace ; but in those days he was 
 chiefly remarkable for his whiskers and his 
 marvellous knack of making himself disagree- 
 able — an accomplishment to which he owed 
 principally his rapid promotion and subsequent 
 retirement. He was one of those people whose 
 life was an enigma. Nobody knew what he 
 lived on. Beside his official salary, which was 
 small, he had nothing but debts, and yet he 
 inhabited a palace, gave balls and parties 
 drove splendid horses, and had for his wife 
 the most fashionable and most elegant woman 
 in Moscow. The princess was one of those 
 who charm without beauty, and amuse with- 
 out wit. She was neither pretty nor clever, 
 but she was graceful and interesting, and had 
 that peculiar something which is as far removed 
 from mere ordinary good breeding as a good 
 oil painting is from a photograph. She pos- 
 sessed to perfection the art of society. When 
 she entered a room she seemed to bring with 
 her an atmosphere of her own, of elegance and 
 refinement. Dark and tall, and thin to trans- 
 parency almost, she was alternately languid 
 and sprightly, and always natural. Curious 
 
THE WORLD 127 
 
 stories were told of her. It was said that 
 she once fitted up a chapel in her house and 
 caused it to be draped in black instead of 
 having it gilded and gorgeously decorated, as 
 is the custom in Russia, and that here she 
 spent her days for a long period, praying for 
 forgiveness for her sins. At other times she 
 was currently reported to have gone about 
 disguised as a man, to have smoked cigars, and 
 to have done all manner of extraordinary things. 
 For the present she was in the zenith of her 
 glory as queen of fashionable Moscow, and the 
 proud and haughty old nobility of Russia's 
 ancient capital flocked to her salons. 
 
 Olga was completely dazzled by the splendour 
 of the ball. The enormous reception-rooms, of 
 which there were six en suite, the light, the 
 mirrors, the gold and the flowers, the ball-room 
 in which the gala uniforms of cflicers, the severe 
 simplicity of the civilians, and the jewels and 
 elegant toilettes of the ladies, formed a sort of 
 bewildering kaleidoscope — all this made Olga 
 feel giddy. But in the whirl of the valse, the 
 rattle of the polka, the complications of the 
 quadrille, she soon forgot her timidity, and all 
 her partners voted her charming. Alexandrine 
 might well be envious. 
 
128 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 As they drove home, for even balls have an end, 
 Mme. Ouspenski remarked pleasantly, — 
 
 'Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, Olga. I 
 think your debut was a decided success. Your 
 country life has not made you shy. You certainly 
 had the lion's share of admiration.' 
 
 Nicholas, who was sitting opposite to her, felt 
 despondent and jealous, but admired her more 
 than ever, as she sat before him, radiant with 
 pleasure, flushed with conquest, and more beautiful 
 than ever in her soft fur cloak. 
 
 An officer of his regiment, a dangerous lady- 
 killer, Lissenko by name, had been more than 
 ordinarily attentive, and had been treated par- 
 ticularly graciously, he thought. His watchful 
 heart had taken alarm. 
 
 Mme. Ouspenski Vv'as right; Olga had made a 
 hit, and speedily became the fashion. Her father, 
 on coming to town, was agreeably surprised to find 
 her so much run after. But Alexandrine shook 
 her head, and gave her mother to understand that 
 Olga was much too forward, and was fast develop- 
 ing into a regular flirt. Perhaps there was some 
 truth in this opinion. Olga was not indifferent to 
 admiration. It is possible that she accepted the 
 tribute of flattery with too little reserve. She was 
 inexperienced, and the world was new to her. 
 
THE WORLD 129 
 
 Moreover, her rustic freshness and energy were 
 not to be worn off in a few weeks. 
 
 In Russia it is not easy for a girl to steer clear 
 of the rocks and shallows that surround her 
 course. If she be bright and intelligent, the 
 meaningless stiffness and prudishness of the 
 'correct' ones will disgust her. On the other 
 hand, the lively vivacity and abandon of the 
 more emancipated species are not safe to 
 imitate; it is so difficult to know whither 
 they will lead. Of course, every moth that 
 flutters round a candle does not get burnt, but 
 many of them singe their wings, and Russian 
 candles are made of such treacherous stuff! 
 
 While Olga conceived a sincere and honest con- 
 tempt for young ladies of the Alexandrine type, 
 she made a friend of the eccentric Princess 
 Nevielski, who was not the kind of woman a 
 wise and prudent mother would have selected 
 as the best possible companion for her daughter. 
 Olga had a deep respect for Mme. Ouspenski, 
 but there was just a spice of imperiousness in 
 that great lady's manner which Olga did not 
 quite relish. But Princess Nevielski was sym- 
 pathetic and charming, and treated her new 
 friend like an equal in intelligence and discre- 
 tion. So, at least, Olga believed, although it is 
 
I30 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 only fair to Princess Nevielski to say that she 
 always respected her innocence and freshness. 
 
 Olga was a true woman, and hence she could 
 not help being a coquette. A young and inex- 
 perienced girl naturally feels amused to find 
 about half-a-dozen men dying for love of her. 
 The idea seems so ridiculous. It is not until 
 Cupid knocks at her own heart that a well- 
 balanced female mind takes a different view. 
 
 Russian society is like all other society, full 
 of contradictions. In Russia, as in other countries, 
 men take great trouble to marry wives whom 
 they afterwards neglect. But they are at least 
 modest and tactful when they are at home. 
 Still they are very seldom at home, and their 
 wives must be entertained. Hence arises con- 
 fusion. Nevertheless, or possibly for this very 
 reason, Russian women exercise an enormous 
 influence, and have done more than the women 
 of any other country for the social emancipation 
 of their sex. Whereas the typical Russian is 
 rather indolent and self-indulgent, Russia has 
 produced women of phenomenal energy and in- 
 telligence. Where there is no freedom of the 
 Press, and no freedom of speech, a lady's salon 
 is rapidly converted into a sort of debating 
 club, and the hostess becomes the president. 
 
THE WORLD 131 
 
 While Olga was basking in the sunshine of 
 flattery, and was drifting down the swift waters 
 of dissipation which inevitably lead to boredom, 
 Nicholas Ouspenski's passion grew day by day, 
 and with it grew also his jealousy. For it 
 seemed to him that she saw much too much 
 of Lissenko, his brother officer, and that he was 
 becoming a dangerous rival. Olga had never 
 given Nicholas the slightest encouragement, but 
 this did not signify. Although he had no con- 
 ceivable right to be jealous, he had, by some 
 process of reasoning or other, come to regard 
 her as his property, and to resent her talking 
 to anybody else. 
 
 One afternoon, when they were alone together, 
 Nicholas took occasion to warn Olga against 
 Lissenko. 
 
 ' I am fortunate in finding you alone, with no 
 other company than your thoughts. Who was 
 the happy object of them ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I was thinking of you, of course,' Olga replied, 
 with a scarcely perceptible tone of sarcasm. 
 
 ' Not of Lissenko ? ' Nicholas inquired. 
 
 ' Why do you so incessantly worry me about 
 Lissenko? Don't you wish me to think of him? 
 Assuming that I was thinking of him, what 
 then ? ' 
 
132 A J^USSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * Then/ said Nicholas, ' I should say things were 
 growing serious. It is dangerous for young ladies 
 to be always thinking of the same person.' 
 
 ' I suppose men would like to control the 
 thoughts of women as well as their acts ; they 
 are such tyrants. But you are too ridiculous. 
 You seem to think me in love with every man 
 I talk to. Why do you dislike Lissenko so? 
 What have you to say against him?' 
 
 'Oh, nothing. He is very charming, is he not? 
 Very handsome and fascinating ? ' 
 
 * Well, I must confess I think he is very nice/ 
 At this answer Nicholas forgot his studied 
 
 languor — rage got the better of him. 
 
 ' He is unscrupulous and deceitful. I assure 
 you solemnly, upon my honour, that he is a most 
 dangerous person. Do not trust him ! I warn 
 you against him. He is a brother officer of mine, 
 and I know all about him. I would not speak 
 as I do unless I had reasons.' 
 
 ' And what are your reasons, pray ? ' 
 
 * I cannot state them to you. I must, in honour, 
 be silent. It is enough if I tell you that he is a 
 man whom you, whom every good woman, should 
 shun. He is a man to whom nothing is holy, 
 nothing sacred.' 
 
 ' You are not at liberty to state your reasons, 
 
THE WORLD 133 
 
 but you arc at liberty, it seems, to stab in the 
 dark, to malign and slander your comrade by 
 vague innuendo behind his back. It is very 
 manly and very chivalrous of you.' 
 
 Olga looked superb as her haughty eyes flashed 
 indignantly upon Nicholas. That young man was 
 not particularly remarkable for prudence. He was 
 inflamed by her passionate beauty, and losing all 
 rational control over his feelings, then and there 
 did the most injudicious thing which in the cir- 
 cumstances could well have been conceived. He 
 threw himself at her feet and declared his passion. 
 He urged the earnestness and honesty of his 
 affection, assured her he had never before loved 
 anybody, and entreated her to accept his hand 
 and heart. 
 
 But Olga was angry and impatient. She hardly 
 gave him time to make his declaration before she 
 turned upon him with a look of scorn, and said 
 coldly, — 
 
 ' So this is your reason ! This is why you 
 slander Lissenko, because you want to monopo- 
 lise me yourself! Really, your egotism is refresh- 
 ing. I admire your brutal frankness, but I think 
 your methods are scarcely those of a soldier and 
 a gentleman.' 
 
 ' I swear to you before God that what I said of 
 
134 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Lissenko was said honestly and truthfully. How 
 can I hold my peace, loving you as I do?' 
 
 Olga smiled sarcastically. 
 
 ' You are a very clever comedian, M. 
 Ouspenski, but I have to leave you now. Good 
 afternoon.' 
 
 ' And is that all you have to say to me ? ' 
 
 '■ I would not take the trouble to tell you what 
 I think of you,' and with these words she swept 
 out of the room. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 L I S S E N K O 
 
 Nicholas, left to himself, was in no enviable 
 frame of mind. He cursed himself for his 
 stupidity, and he also felt considerably humiliated. 
 He — the Adonis of Moscow — had been rejected, 
 and rejected with scorn ! Nicholas had spoken 
 truthfully when he had said that Olga was the 
 first woman he had loved. Young, and petted in 
 society, he had been too much of a soldier to be 
 fascinated by the inane beauties of the drawing- 
 room. As a dashing cavalry officer, he had led 
 the life which a Hussar was expected to lead, 
 and had not fled the attractions of the ballet. 
 By ladies of a certain world, that half of which 
 the other half professes not to know how it lives, 
 he had been spoilt, but he had never taken these 
 ladies otherwise than they themselves desired to 
 be taken, and had never been fool enough to lose 
 his heart to them. He was an honest, simple- 
 
 135 
 
136 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 hearted sort of fellow, very manly, somewhat 
 conceited, and not very clever. But he had yet 
 to learn that he was not irresistible. Hitherto, 
 he had so considered himself, for he had never 
 taken the trouble to try to conquer, and his hand- 
 some appearance and wealthy parents had made 
 him the object of countless attentions. 
 
 It would be interesting to speculate what 
 qualities will secure a woman's affections, if a 
 handsome person and a goodly competence will 
 not do it. Fortunately for the men, however, 
 beauty is not absolutely indispensable. Women 
 will love them even for their ugliness. Some 
 are loved for their brains, others for their char- 
 acter, some for their stupidity, some for their im- 
 pudence, some for their strength, and some even 
 for their delicate health. The objects of women's 
 love are as different as the characters of women 
 themselves. Hence, if Nicholas had but reflected, 
 he need not have felt humiliated. But he was 
 in no mood for consolation ; he was in love. He 
 therefore rushed off to barracks to dine at 
 the mess and forget his griefs amongst his 
 comrades. 
 
 Nicholas was a great favourite in his regiment, 
 for he had all the qualities of good fellowship, 
 and his dejected appearance caused a sympathetic 
 
LISSENKO 
 
 137 
 
 concern among his brother officers, who did all 
 they could to amuse him. 
 
 While they were all chatting away pleasantly, 
 the hated rival, Lissenko, joined them. He was 
 a tall and graceful being, with a remarkably 
 fine complexion, fair hair which had an appear- 
 ance of being powdered, jet-black eyebrows and 
 moustaches, and strangely fascinating deep blue 
 eyes. He was thin, elegant, and scented. His 
 nose was long and straight,, with a sort of im- 
 pertinent point at the end which seemed to 
 indicate rebellion against its own classical 
 severity. The chin was sharp, dimpled and curled 
 up. There was a satanic smile perpetually play- 
 ing upon his features, and this, together with the 
 peculiar shape of his eyebrows and his reputation 
 as a tempter of Marguerites, had earned him the 
 nickname of Mephistopheles. 
 
 Lissenko was popular with men as much as 
 with women. His sympathies were wide, his 
 popularity unbounded. In conversation he seemed 
 to merge his identity in others, and yet he was 
 known to be absolutely selfish at heart ; but no 
 one expected him to be other than selfish. It 
 was for his very selfishness, charming and un- 
 obtrusive as it was, that he was respected. He 
 possessed every accomplishment, and prided him- 
 
138 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 self upon being the most finished and most 
 successful Don Juan in the service. 
 
 He greeted Nicholas with more than his usual 
 charm of manner, and then, seeing how little his 
 overtures were relished, said self-complacently, — 
 
 * How sad you are, Ouspenski ! I have not 
 seen you looking so melancholy for years.' 
 
 ' I, melancholy ! Nonsense ! I am happy ! and 
 particularly pleased to see you.' Nicholas spoke 
 with an insolence which seemed to mildly sur- 
 prise Lissenko. 
 
 ' Glad you should be so pleased to see me ; 
 delighted, I am sure.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Nicholas, still more insolently, 'I 
 am so delighted to be able to tell you that I 
 do not like the shape of your nose, and should 
 like to alter it.' 
 
 Everybody laughed. Lissenko's nose was in- 
 deed impertinent, but to tell a man in Russia 
 that you do not like his nose is a time-honoured 
 formal method of insulting and challenging him. 
 In the intimate family circle of a regimental 
 mess such a direct and uncalled-for provocation 
 could only be treated as a joke, and hence 
 Lissenko laughed even more heartily than the 
 others ; a little artificially, perhaps, for the re- 
 mark had nettled him. Perhaps Lissenko knew 
 
LISSENKO 139 
 
 for what reason Nicholas had made this dead 
 set at him, and he said abruptly, without any 
 rhyme or reason, — 
 
 ' What a charming girl that little Princess 
 Obolenski of yours is ! Exquisite ! Such wicked 
 black eyes, and such wicked little ways. A 
 delicious little sinner ! ' 
 
 ' You will oblige me, Lissenko, by keeping 
 your remarks about Princess Obolenski to your- 
 self Let us return to the subject of your nose. 
 It interests you personally much more.' 
 
 ' Pardon me, Ouspenski, but your young friend 
 is much more interesting to me than my poor 
 nose, which has been so unfortunate as to meet 
 with your disapprobation. Besides, why should 
 I not talk of her ? All Moscow talks of her. 
 She is the greatest flirt in town, and her name 
 is public property already. One would think 
 you had some title to be her champion. Per- 
 haps you have a right. In that case, it will 
 gratify you to know that I shall this very night 
 become entitled to relieve you of the onerous 
 duty of defending her reputation.' 
 
 Every word Lissenko uttered was like a sharp 
 blade to Nicholas. He could scarcely control 
 himself With a desperate effort he managed to 
 say calmly, — 
 
I40 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * Will you recall those words ? ' 
 
 ' Most certainly not. An officer never recalls 
 his words, but abides by them. I have said 
 nothing but the truth.' 
 
 ' You are a coward and a liar/ Nicholas 
 thundered out. 
 
 ' Those words I will force you to recall. Those 
 words I will force you to make me a public 
 apology for.' 
 
 * The only apology I shall make is this,' and 
 before his brother officers could stop him, Nicholas 
 sprang forward and gave Lissenko a swinging 
 box on the ear which caused that officer to reel. 
 
 Lissenko turned the colour of lead, and, throw- 
 ing Nicholas a venomous glance, he left the 
 room saying, * You shall hear from me, sir ! ' 
 
 Nicholas would have rushed after him in his 
 mad jealousy, but was forcibly held back. He 
 lost no time, however, and as soon as he had 
 sufficiently recovered his self-control, he sent 
 his seconds after Lissenko, insisting that the 
 meeting should take place that very night. To 
 this Lissenko would not agree, but it suited 
 him to appoint the following morning for the 
 time of the encounter, and with this compromise 
 the seconds were satisfied, although Nicholas 
 was in despair at the bare idea of the possibility 
 
LISSENKO 141 
 
 of his rival eloping that night with Olga and 
 thus escaping him. He had been thus precipitate 
 on this very account. But he had to submit to 
 the guidance of his seconds, and he was at least 
 comforted by the consideration that, if Lissenko 
 were to elope without meeting him, Lissenko 
 would be a ruined man. His melancholy now 
 gave way to boundless exultation. Either he 
 or Lissenko would die to-morrow morning. This 
 consoling thought filled him with joy. 
 
 He took occasion to see Olga in the evening, 
 just as she was going off to the Princess Neviel- 
 ski's, for that lady was giving her second ball that 
 night. He came up to her and said, — 
 
 'You are going? Good-bye! Tell me I am 
 forgiven.' 
 
 ' I did not know that you required forgiveness,' 
 she replied, with a bright and even friendly smile 
 as she took his profferred hand and sailed away 
 She looked radiant and happy. She was going 
 to meet Lissenko. Horrid thought ! 
 
 If Nicholas was in a state bordering on madness 
 and waiting for the morrow with the impatience 
 with which the lover awaits his wedding-day, 
 Lissenko showed no outward signs to betray 
 that anything exceptional had occurred. He 
 behaved with that cynical and graceful ease 
 
142 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 which had become a second nature to him. 
 He invited his seconds to dinner at the Hermitage, 
 perhaps the best restaurant in the world, and 
 was as amusing and entertaining as they ^could 
 wish. Whatever emotions he might conceal in 
 his bosom, his manner was absolutely careless 
 and indifferent. 
 
 That night he also went to Princess Nevielski's 
 ball. 
 
 Moscow was in a state of ferment. The 
 Emperor had come down in order to make 
 his famous speech to the town council. He had 
 made it that day, but as yet its tenour was not 
 known. All Russia was on tip-toe of expectation 
 for some public statement which should give 
 an index to the Emperor's mind. The hopes 
 inspired by Mr Gladstone's campaign in England 
 against the Bulgarian atrocities and the * unspeak- 
 able Turk/ had been dashed to the ground by 
 the Mansion House speech of the Prime Minister. 
 The Continent also seemed to regard Russian 
 interference in the East with jealousy and appre- 
 hension. Prince Bismarck had expressed the 
 sentiments of his country when he declared that 
 the shirt was nearer to the skin than the coat, 
 and that Austria's interests were dearer than 
 those of Russia, and that the Eastern Question 
 
LISSENKO 143 
 
 was not worth the bones of a single Pomeranian 
 grenadier. Notwithstanding the cordial friendship 
 which existed between the veteran German 
 Emperor and the Tzar, it was doubted whether 
 those ties of affection and blood would be strong 
 enough to prevent a rupture in the event of 
 war. It was felt that, should Russia take the 
 field on behalf of her persecuted Slavonic brethren, 
 Austria and England would form a coalition with 
 Turkey to resist the advance of Russia and 
 preserve Constantinople for the Sultan. With 
 Germany maintaining an attitude of strict neu- 
 trality, and, if anything, supporting Austria ; with 
 France too weak for her revenge, and not even 
 strong enough to invade Egypt and Tunis, the 
 isolation of Russia would be complete. 
 
 Such was the outlook on the eve of the Russo- 
 Turkish war, and yet the chief fear of what we 
 must call public opinion, was that the government 
 might allow prudential considerations to prevail. 
 The country was never more fanatically warlike. 
 Russian society seemed to think the Powers were 
 \\\ duty bound to maintain order in the Sultan's 
 dominions, and if Western Europe neglected its 
 duty Russia would not cravenly stand by and 
 see her brethren in faith and race wantonly 
 massacred. Of the diplomatic intrigues which 
 
144 ^ RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 had led to and were behind this chivalrous 
 position the public knew nothing. They were as 
 ignorant of them as Mr Gladstone himself. 
 
 When Olga arrived at Princess Nevielski's, she 
 found the assembled guests in animated conver- 
 sation. The princess herself, surrounded by a 
 crowd of both sexes, was listening to an old 
 gentleman with snow-white beard and hair, a 
 member of the town council, who was giving 
 them a version of the Emperor's speech. It 
 was the venerable Aksakoff, one of the founders 
 of Slavophilism. 
 
 As Olga approached the group, the following 
 words greeted her ears, — 
 
 'The sovereign then said,' she could hear 
 Aksakoff say, ' that, if the Powers would not 
 assist him in the cause of justice, he would act 
 independently.' 
 
 * Hurrah ! ' resounded through the room, 
 ' Hurrah ! ' 
 
 Olga felt that peculiar electric thrill which 
 people experience when they join an enthusiastic 
 crowd. It is a sort of magnetic current which 
 passes through every unit of a mob, and com- 
 municates the enthusiasm of one or two to all; 
 and it is a very curious and a very remarkable 
 phenomenon. A Russian nobleman, who had 
 
LISSENKO 145 
 
 absolutely no sympathy with the democracy 
 and who was in Paris during the days of the 
 Commune, confessed that, on one occasion, as 
 he was driving through the streets, he was so 
 carried away by the sounds of the Marseillaise, 
 thundered forth from the throats of a mob of 
 Communards, that he was irresistibly drawn to 
 join them, and marched along with them, singing 
 'Down with tyranny,' and feeling absolutely 
 feverish with excitement. 
 
 At that moment Olga could have rushed into 
 the fire, faced death in a thousand forms for her 
 country. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 AN EXPERIENCE 
 
 ' You are shouting with the mob, princess. 
 Patriotism is a magnificent sentiment, and it 
 is glorious to feel oneself carried away by a 
 current of sentiment, by an irresistible magnetic 
 force ; it is a splendid sensation, is it not ? ' 
 
 Lissenko had approached Olga, and addressed 
 her in these words. Olga turned round, her 
 eyes still glistening with excitement. 
 
 * I am so pleased,' she said. ' Have you heard 
 the Emperor's speech ? We are going to be 
 honest and brave. We are going to punish Turkey 
 openly, and in the face of all Europe ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' Lissenko replied carelessly, * so I have 
 heard, and I am surprised we have not done it 
 already. What is Europe? Austria and Eng- 
 land are merely ciphers, and Germany cannot 
 move for fear of France.' 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, 
 146 
 
AN EXPERIENCE 147 
 
 and Olga was soon whirling round the room, 
 clasped in his arms, to the tune of a voluptuous 
 valse. 
 
 They made the tour of the ball-room several 
 times, and then Lissenko led Olga into a little 
 boudoir, where they could be quite alone. 
 
 ' Why do you leave the ball-room ? ' Olga 
 asked. 
 
 ' Have you forgotten your promise, princess ? 
 You promised to listen to me this evening/ 
 
 ' Did I ? ' was Olga's reply, but she had had 
 too little practice in the art of flirtation to be 
 able to conceal her emotion. 'What did you 
 want to tell me, M. Lissenko?' she inquired, 
 after a short pause. Lissenko had been gazing 
 at her in mute admiration. 
 
 ' I wanted to tell you,' he said softly, ' that 
 I love you.' 
 
 ' Is that all ? ' said Olga, with a desperate 
 effort to appear careless. She was not going 
 to surrender the citadel so easily as that. 
 
 ' That is all,' said Lissenko, with suppressed 
 passion. ' What more could I, what more can 
 any man, say ? I love you, princess, with my 
 whole heart and soul. I cannot live on with- 
 out you. Tell mc that you will accept my 
 love,' and he gently took her hand in his and 
 
148 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 covered it with kisses before she had time to 
 pull it back. She looked flushed and angry as 
 she disengaged it from his embraces. 
 
 *Am I not worthy of an answer?' he said 
 softly, and the melodious tones of his subdued 
 voice seemed to penetrate into her very heart. 
 
 ' You are too impetuous,' she replied, turning 
 away her head. ' I cannot answer you off- 
 hand like this. You must give me time for 
 consideration.' 
 
 ' How long ? * 
 
 'A week at least.' 
 
 He again seized her hand and kissed it. She 
 offered him no resistance. He then whispered 
 in her ear, — 
 
 ' Why wait ? Why hesitate ? Say yes at once, 
 and make me happy. Life is so short and so 
 full of uncertainties, why should we wait a week ? 
 Elope with me now — this minute. Of the pre- 
 sent we are sure, who can answer for the 
 future ? From the beautiful valley of Chamounix 
 we shall always have time to write home and 
 arrange with your parents, and with the world. 
 Why waste time? Let us fly to-night, and 
 pursue happiness while it is within our reach.' 
 
 Olga listened with fear and amazement visibly 
 expressed on her grand features ; but these 
 
AN EXPERIENCE 149 
 
 emotions speedily gave way to haughty indig- 
 nation. With a queenly dignity she answered 
 coldly, — 
 
 ' Is this an honourable proposal you are mak- 
 ing to me? I fancy your imagination is running 
 away with you. Why should we fly in the night 
 like thieves ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! You will waste the precious days ! 
 W^ho knows how long we have to live. Death 
 may be at my door to-morrow before the hour 
 of noon has struck. What do we care for 
 society or the world? I love you, and you — 
 yes, I know you love me also. What more 
 do we require? When two beings are united 
 by the holy ties of love, what other bonds do 
 they require ? I love you. Fly with me to- 
 night If you refuse, I may be dead to-morrow.' 
 
 ' You are talking nonsense ; take me back to 
 the ball-room.' 
 
 * If you wish it, 1 must obey ; but you are 
 jeopardising my life.' 
 
 * What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I mean that I have to-morrow to vindicate 
 the honour of one whom I hold dear. But if 
 you love me and will fly with me to-night, 
 what do I care for slanders and for my vain, 
 paltry honour ? ' 
 
I50 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * You are going to fight a duel ? ' 
 
 'You have guessed the truth. I shall have 
 to-morrow to meet the man who has slandered 
 a person whom I love and who is defence- 
 less. Perhaps I shall be summoned before the 
 tribunal of Almighty God to answer for my 
 sins. I have a presentiment that I shall be 
 killed.' 
 
 Olga looked concerned. 
 
 ' How foolish ! How senseless ! How foolhardy ! ' 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 ' If you were a man, and heard the woman 
 you loved and adored made the subject of 
 calumnies and slander, of ribald jests and boast- 
 ful buffoonery, would you sit tamely by without 
 offering to defend her honour ? ' 
 
 *Then there are other ladies besides myself 
 for whom you nourish tender feelings ? ' 
 
 ' No — you — you are the sole mistress of my 
 heart. It is because I love you so that I 
 cannot bear to hear you lightly spoken of.' 
 
 ' And who is it that has dared to slander me ? ' 
 she inquired, with dignity. 
 
 'It is a brother officer of mine ; but I had 
 rather not mention his name. Fly with me, 
 now — at once ! Let us leave this nest of back- 
 biters and scandalmongers. 
 
AN EXPERIENCE 1 5 1 
 
 'You cannot mean Nicholas Ouspenski?' 
 
 * It is useless for me to conceal anything from 
 you. I cannot deny it.' 
 
 Olga sank bank in the sofa, covered her face in 
 her hands, and sobbed out, — 
 
 ' This is horrible ! ' 
 
 ' What a fool I am ! ' said Lissenko ; * but I 
 will leave you. Do not distress yourself. What 
 signifies my life compared to your happiness. 
 I will fire in the air. Good-bye. Do not quite 
 forget me,' and with these words he rose to 
 
 go. 
 
 Olga scrutinised him carefully. He bore her 
 
 gaze unflinchingly. To her at that moment he 
 
 seemed a hero. She suddenly rose and said, — 
 
 ' You are right ! Take me away ! Let 
 us go ! ' 
 
 Lissenko embraced her passionately, and in 
 a few minutes they were driving over the 
 frozen snow in the moonlit night. Lissenko's 
 arm encircling her waist, and the fine snow- 
 dust thrown up by the horse's feet flying into 
 her face. The horse went like the wind. The 
 air seemed to cut her face like a knife. She 
 never forgot that drive. 
 
 They did not drive very far before they 
 stopped. 
 
152 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 *What have we stopped for?' Olga asked. 
 
 ' We must alight here,' said Lissenko. ' It 
 is' late. Here we can have some supper and 
 rest for the night, and to-morrow morning 
 I shall be ready to escort you across the 
 frontier.* 
 
 *You promise you will not go and fight 
 that duel?' 
 
 * Of course, I will not risk my life now 
 that you are going to share that life with me.' 
 
 They got out and Lissenko rang the bell, 
 the door opened and Olga went in. 
 As soon as she and Lissenko had entered, 
 the door closed of itself. They ascended a 
 thickly carpeted staircase. No servants appeared. 
 They went along a carpeted corridor till they 
 came to an open door. Through this Lissenko 
 led her. She found herself in a handsomely 
 furnished room, in the centre of which stood 
 a table laid for two. 
 
 ' I do not like this place,' said Olga. 
 
 'Well, it is not perhaps the best of all 
 places in the world. But here at least we 
 are to ourselves. Nobody has seen us come in. 
 No blabbing tongues can betray us. Nobody 
 will intrude upon us.' So saying, Lissenko 
 locked the door. ' Your bed-chamber is in 
 
AN EXPERIENCE 153 
 
 the next room. Now we will sit down and 
 have supper. See how simply that is 
 managed. I open this little cupboard, and 
 behold the supper is there awaiting us. Is 
 it not charming ? Like fairyland ! ' 
 
 'Take me away,' said Olga, with a shudder. 
 ' Take me somewhere else.' 
 
 ' Why do you dislike these rooms, Olga } ' 
 asked Lissenko, putting his arm fondly round 
 her. 
 
 ' They are mysterious and uncanny. There 
 is an unholy atmosphere about them. Oh ! 
 Lissenko ! if you love me, as you say, take 
 me out of this place,' and Olga sat down and 
 wept. 
 
 Lissenko sat down by her side and tried 
 to soothe her, but nothing would do. She 
 had looked round the room and satisfied 
 herself of its character. She longed to get 
 away. In the meantime Lissenko kept cooing 
 in her ear, — 
 
 * What is there to make you afraid ? Whom 
 do you fear ? Are you afraid of me — of me, 
 who would lay down my life for you ? Let 
 us be happy. Let us throw off the fetters 
 of society and give ourselves to each other, 
 to happiness and bliss. With these words he 
 
154 ^ RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 imprinted a kiss on Olga's cheek. * How 
 beautiful you are ! ' he added in a whisper, 
 as he looked at her passionately. His two 
 eyes seemed to burn her. 
 
 By this time she had regained her com- 
 posure and had dried her tears, but she was 
 still in an extremely nervous and excited 
 state. She tore herself away from his 
 embraces and sprang towards the other end 
 of the room. 
 
 ' Tell me,' she said, * where we are ? ' 
 
 ' Where do you suppose, but at the Rocker de 
 Cancale ? There is no other place in Moscow 
 like this.' 
 
 The answer came like a blow, shattering all 
 her illusions. The Rocker de Cancale was an 
 infamous place which has since been closed 
 by the police ; it was celebrated, and its fame 
 had reached even her young ears. It was 
 now quite clear to her that she had been 
 entrapped. The story of Nicholas and the duel 
 was a mere invention, fabricated to work 
 upon her feelings, and this handsome, noble- 
 looking Lissenko was simply a contemptible, 
 cowardly scoundrel. He smiled as he seemed 
 to be reading her thoughts, and rose and 
 drew his chair to the table. 
 
AN EXPERIENCE 155 
 
 * Come ! ' he said genially, ' let us have 
 some supper. A little champagne will do us 
 both good after our drive.' 
 
 ' I will not drink a drop nor eat a morsel. 
 You must take me back to Princess Nevielski's 
 at once.' 
 
 ' My dear Olga, that is quite impossible. 
 What would people say ? It is too late now. 
 The die is cast and you must now be mine; 
 retreat is impossible. Let us forget, then, all 
 those stupid proprieties and shams of the 
 world, and be happy.' 
 
 ' Never w^ith you ! ' and Olga rushed to the 
 door, but Lissenko was too quick for her. He 
 had anticipated her movement and had put 
 the key in his pocket. 
 
 Olga was beside herself with rage. She 
 looked beautiful, like an infuriated goddess, as 
 she stood there in her ball dress, with her 
 bare arms and shoulders and her magnificent 
 figure. Lissenko resembled a satyr. 
 
 * You dare not keep me here against my 
 will,' she screamed. ' I will force you to set 
 me free. I will ring. I will scream. I will 
 call the people. I will smash the window and 
 jump out into the street ! ' 
 
 ' It will avail you nothing. The people are 
 
156 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 accustomed to such scenes, and won't come, 
 and the windows look into the courtyard. 
 Come, Olga, sit down and make the best of 
 the situation.' 
 
 Lissenko had been plying himself with cham- 
 pagne and was getting impatient; so was Olga. 
 She flew about the room like a bird in its cage, 
 and finally, unable to contain herself any longer, 
 she jumped unexpectedly upon Lissenko and dug 
 her hands into his throat until she nearly throttled 
 him. Lissenko, taken unawares, was unable to 
 offer any resistance ; his face was rapidly getting 
 blue ; she had thrust her clenched fists into the 
 collar of his uniform and was pressing her 
 diamond rings against his windpipe. 'Give me 
 the key of the door, at once ! ' she screamed, as 
 she shook him off his chair and threw him on 
 the floor. With the agility of a panther she 
 seized a large and pointed carving-knife which 
 was lying on the table, and, throwing herself 
 with her whole weight upon Lissenko's chest, 
 she held the knife at his throat. 
 
 ' If you do not let me have the key of the door 
 at once, I will murder you.' 
 
 Lissenko was completely unnerved by so un- 
 expected an attack. When he saw the carving- 
 knife gleam in the air, and actually felt its 
 
AN EXPERIENCE 
 
 157 
 
 sharp point at his throat, he threw the key on 
 the floor and yelled for mercy. The whole 
 thing had been so sudden that he had not had 
 time to collect his thoughts. Olga sprang to- 
 wards the key, hastily unlocked the door, and 
 rushed out into the passage. She ran downstairs 
 as she was, and would have rushed into the street 
 had not Lissenko come after her with her furs 
 in his arms. He wrapped them round her and 
 escorted her to his sledge. 
 
 ' Do not dare to accompany me,' she cried. 
 ' Drive me at once to Princess Nevielski's,' she 
 said to the coachman. 
 
 And that was the last Lissenko saw of Princess 
 Olga Obolenski. 
 
 The ball was still going on when Olga returned 
 to Princess Nevielski's, and she went at once in 
 search of Mme. Ouspenski, who was in the card- 
 room playing cards with her father, and asked 
 to be taken home, pleading a bad headache. 
 
 ' How ill she looks ! ' said Mme. Ouspenski in 
 alarm, and then, turning to Prince Obolenski, she 
 added, ' I am afraid your little country mouse, as 
 she calls herself, has been having too much town 
 dissipation. I will take her home immediately.' 
 
 Two hours later Olga was comfortably in bed, 
 with Agraphia tenderly nursing her. 
 
 L 
 
158 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * My angel, my sweet one ! what has happened ? ' 
 Agraphia asked her anxiously when they were 
 alone. Olga put her head on her nurse's shoulder 
 and, in a voice drowned in tears, told her her 
 adventure. 
 
 ' Ah ! you must beware of men, my little dove ! ' 
 said Agraphia when Olga had finished ; ' do not 
 trust them. They are all deceitful. Let mo 
 tell you my own story; you have never heard 
 it, but it is well that you should hear it now. It 
 will show you what men are. But I have told it 
 to nobody, and you must keep it secret.' 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE nurse's story 
 
 ' I NEVER knew my father, and I can only suspect 
 who my mother was,' Agraphia began. ' I was an 
 orphan, and I was brought up in a peasant's hut 
 in Volkovo, but strange stories were told about me 
 in the village, and people used to hint mysteri- 
 ously that my mother had been a lady. But 
 these were idle stories — perhaps they were true, 
 perhaps not. However, I was proud and passion- 
 ate as a girl, and how I have suffered for it ! God 
 has been merciful and has punished me in this 
 world for my sins ! 
 
 'Well, they say I was a very pretty child, and 
 that I had very winning ways and fine eyes, and 
 could make myself very pleasant when I chose. 
 Alas ! those days are gone now ! One day, when 
 I was about twelve years old, your grandfather 
 met me in the village street. He stopped me 
 and spoke to me, and asked mc who I was, and 
 
 159 
 
i6o A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 I told him innocently that I was an orphan, and 
 it seems I quite won his heart, for he took me 
 home and told the housekeeper to teach me to 
 be a servant. She took me by the hand and 
 led me to your grandmother. 
 
 * When I was brought before her, I do not know 
 why it was, but I felt more nervous and shy 
 than I had ever felt before, and my heart beat 
 violently. 
 
 'She looked at me intently without speaking 
 for some time. She was sitting on an arm-chair 
 on the verandah ; the garden was much better 
 kept in those days than it is now, and there were 
 rose bushes close to the verandah railings. The 
 roses smelt so sweet and soft ! Ah ! I shall 
 never forget that day ! At last your grand- 
 mother spoke. " Who are you ? " she said. " Who 
 are your father and mother?" 
 
 * And I dropped her as pretty a curtsey as I 
 could, and told her I had no father and mother, 
 and told her who had brought me up. Then she 
 burst into tears, and kissed me tenderly and said, 
 " This is God's doing ! This is the finger of 
 Providence ! Do not be astonished, child ! " she 
 said ; " you look so like someone I knew years 
 ago that you have awakened sweet memories in 
 my mind." 
 
THE NURSE 'S STOR V 1 6 1 
 
 ' From that time I was always kindly and affec- 
 tionately treated. Your grandmother became very 
 fond of me ; she taught me to read and write, and 
 took me to town, and even sent me to school. 
 And when I grew old enough, she made me her 
 companion, and I was always near her. The 
 servants used to say that she could not have 
 been kinder to me if she had been my mother, 
 and then they would giggle. 
 
 ' Now, your grandmother, Olga, was a great 
 lady. She used to go to St Petersburg and to 
 Paris, and gave many parties, and was always 
 surrounded by admirers. I am afraid she rather 
 neglected your father. But she was very beauti- 
 ful, and she had a wonderful charm of manner, 
 and a most elegant figure. There was a fascina- 
 tion about her, something melancholy and dreamy 
 and wild and terrible. Still she could be as 
 bright and happy and playful as a child. She 
 was full of caprices and moods, never the same 
 for two days together. She was a wonderful 
 woman. But your grandfather did not care for 
 her ; he was indifferent. He liked a country life 
 and never accompanied his wife to town, and it 
 was said that he preferred the society of fat and 
 comely peasant women to that of his elegant 
 and romantic wife. Still he was proud of her, 
 
i62 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 as a man might be proud of a gorgeous palace, 
 which he liked to show off to his friends, but 
 did not care to inhabit. He was proud of 
 her beauty and her wit, and her social suc- 
 cesses, and he was a generous and indulgent 
 husband. 
 
 * I learned many things that I ought not to 
 have known anything about before I was quite 
 sixteen. Your grandmother was a clever woman, 
 and managed her affairs with discretion. There 
 was never any scandal, no noise, no scenes. Her 
 life glided luxuriously and softly on, and her in- 
 trigues glided gently and imperceptibly with it. 
 
 ' Thus time passed, and I lived very happily. 
 I was more of a friend than a servant to your 
 grandmother. And when she received her guests, 
 I was often allowed to be present, and I was 
 always at her parties. I was better looking then 
 than I am now, and your grandmother was proud 
 of me, and dressed me well. I had all the men 
 at my feet. They used to talk to me and turn 
 my head, and they used to bring me boxes of 
 sweetmeats, and make me Christmas presents, 
 and especially did they bring me chocolate eggs 
 at Easter so as to get kisses out of me. All this 
 used to amuse your grandmother. I was very 
 proud and vain in those days, and my haughty 
 
THE NURSE 'S STOR V 1 6^ 
 
 ways used to divert her. Nevertheless I Hked 
 the society of men, and preferred it to that of 
 women. Men were much cleverer and more 
 amusing to talk to. I used to think women 
 stupid and uninteresting. Women are foolish, 
 but men are knaves, and the society of knaves 
 is more dangerous than that of fools ; but I was 
 young. 
 
 ' Among those men there was one whom I liked 
 better than the rest. But he did not pay me 
 much attention. He was an officer, a cuirassier 
 of the guards, very tall and dark. His eyes were 
 such merry, dancing eyes, so piercing, so \vicked ! 
 When I think of him now, I forget how old I am. 
 He was very tall, Olenka, and very strong and 
 powerful, but his tread was so light, and he carried 
 himself so gracefully, you might almost have thought 
 he was but a light and lithesome page. When he 
 smiled, his beautiful white teeth peeped out between 
 his bright red lips, over which hung a small, crisp, 
 curly, black moustache. He was charming ! And 
 so proud ! Heigh ho ! I like to look back upon 
 that mad, wicked, happy time ! Your grandmother 
 was very fond of him, and admired him hugely. 
 But he was, so I thought, at least, rather cool 
 towards her. He was a man who had seen very 
 much of the world, and I rather fancy that con- 
 
i64 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 quests were beginning to bore him. He was full 
 of schemes and high ambitions, and was always 
 going to do something or other. For the rest, 
 he was delightful, and had the most fascinating 
 ways. Yes, and I loved that man, Olenka; it is 
 no use pretending I did not. I loved him, and 
 I have never loved anyone else ! It was foolish, 
 it was madness, but girls of sixteen do not calcu- 
 late. Those eyes of his pierced my heart, and I 
 determined that he should be mine, come what 
 may. I would make him love me. I never re- 
 flected, I never thought of the consequences. And 
 I made him love me ! Shall I tell you how I 
 attracted him to me, how I forced him to take 
 notice of me, how I interested him ? I could not 
 if I would. But I succeeded. 
 
 '"What a wonderfully pretty girl that is of 
 yours," I once overheard him say to your grand- 
 mother. 
 
 *"Yes, she is not bad," your grandmother re- 
 plied; "but be good, she is only a child, you 
 know." 
 
 '"Yes, only a child, but already very difficult 
 to please." * 
 
 *"Then you have been trying to please her?" 
 
 '"As much as I try to please every member 
 of your charming household." 
 
THE NURSE'S STORY 165 
 
 ' She made no answer, but turned away and 
 spoke to somebody else. A cloud came over 
 her brow for an instant, and went as quickly 
 as it had appeared. The next morning she 
 was particularly sweet to me, and kissed and 
 caressed me more tenderly than usual. 
 
 ' " How pretty you are to-day, child," she said, 
 and then she tried to get me to talk about 
 Count Droginoff — that was his name — but I 
 had not lived in your grandmother's house in 
 vain, and she could not get anything out of me. 
 
 ' From that day forward I felt that she 
 watched me, and that she ceased to look upon 
 me merely as a pretty child, but regarded me 
 as a possibly dangerous rival. But I did not 
 care. I had gained my object — I had got 
 Count Droginoff to take an interest in me. 
 
 ' One night when she was giving a grand 
 party at which a young attache to the English 
 Embassy was present — a handsome new arrival, 
 to whom your grandmother appeared to have 
 taken a great fancy — I was standing alone in 
 a small boudoir, thinking. Count Droginoff 
 came up to me and^said, — 
 
 ' " You are looking sad and pensive to-night. 
 Has anything happened to ruffle the easy course 
 of your happy life ? " 
 
1 66 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * " How do you know that my life is happy ? " 
 I retorted. "And if it was not, what interest 
 would that have for you?" 
 
 ' " Everything that relates to you interests 
 me deeply," he answered solemnly. 
 
 '"If that were true, you would long since 
 haye discovered that my life is far from being 
 a happy one." 
 
 * He took my hand into his and looked at 
 me so tenderly and compassionately that I 
 felt the tears starting to my eyes. 
 
 '"Tell me your troubles," he said, "and 
 perhaps I may be able to relieve them. Believe 
 me that nothing would give me more pleasure 
 than to be able to do something for you. I 
 am speaking seriously, not in terms of empty 
 flattery. I would lay down my life to give 
 you a moment's happiness." His voice was 
 tremulous. 
 
 '"And by so doing, you would kill me also," 
 I rejoined softly. " Come, shall I sing you a 
 song?" and I took him to the piano at which 
 your grandmother used to play, and sat down 
 and touched the keys and played him a little 
 romance about a lonely orphan who pined 
 neglected with a secret love. 
 
 * " Now," I said when I had finished, " I have 
 
THE NURSE 'S STOR Y 167 
 
 told you my trouble, let us join the happy 
 throng." 
 
 " No, let us remain here. I want to talk to 
 you, I have so much to say to you." 
 
 '"What will Princess Obolenski say if she 
 finds us here together?" 
 
 * " Never fear. She is well employed. The 
 young Englishman with the eye-glass has taken 
 up all her attention." 
 
 ' " Aha ! So, to console yourself, you have con- 
 descended to talk to me. Thank you, Count 
 Droginofif." 
 
 ' He smiled and answered, — 
 ' " You forget that there are other charming 
 women in St Petersburg besides yourself and 
 Princess Obolenski." 
 
 ' But at this moment our conversation was inter- 
 rupted. Princess Obolenski and her latest victim 
 entered the room. It was as much as I could do to 
 prevent myself from fainting into the count's arms. 
 ' " I hope I have not spoilt an agreeable tcte- 
 d-tete" your grandmother said sweetly. 
 
 ' The count was equal to the occasion. So 
 perfectly did he play his part, that I myself 
 began to suspect that he had but flirted with 
 me to while away the time until the real 
 queen of his heart arrived. 
 
i68 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * " How pale you look, my poor little child ! " 
 she exclaimed. "You are tired. Why, it is 
 two o'clock ! you had better go to bed ! " 
 
 • I kissed her hand, she embraced me affec- 
 tionately, and I went to bed, but I could not 
 sleep. I lay awake all that night thinking of 
 the count. Your grandmother nevertheless con- 
 tinued to treat me with great kindness. 
 
 'One day when she had gone out and left 
 me alone, Count Droginoff called to see me. 
 He made me a declaration and proposed elope- 
 ment. I told him there was a gulf between us, 
 but he would not listen to me, but went on his 
 knees and implored me to be gracious to him.' 
 
 'At that moment the door opened and your 
 grandmother came in, white with passion. She 
 laughed when she saw the count on his knees 
 before me, and exclaimed, — 
 
 ' " I had not expected this of you, count. It 
 is really very wrong of you to turn the poor 
 little girl's head. Can you leave nobody alone? 
 Is not even this child to be spared by your 
 insatiable vanity?" 
 
 'The count rose, looking indignant. He 
 answered sternly, — 
 
 * " It is not my custom to turn people's heads. 
 When I do so I am sorry for it." 
 
THE NURSE'S STORY 169 
 
 ' Your grandmother only looked at him with 
 a look that I shall never forget, it was so full 
 of sadness, love and entreaty. 
 
 "'I am sorry," he continued, " that you should 
 be so angry at my paying my respects to this 
 young lady." 
 
 '"Count, I implore you, leave this house. 
 How can you ? Spare that poor child ! You 
 are a monster ! " and she cried and fainted. 
 When she came to herself, she sobbed out, 
 " Oh ! the brute, the brute ! " and continued 
 weeping. 
 
 * The count seemed very much distressed, and 
 left us. As soon as he was gone your grand- 
 mother made a fearful scene, and vowed 
 she would send me back to Volkovo. You 
 can imagine my feelings. The threat was too 
 much for me. I knew that your grandmother 
 meant what she said, and I could not bear to 
 be separated from Count Droginoff, and so, 
 like the foolish girl I was, I yielded to his 
 importunities, and finally ran away with him. 
 
 ' We went to Switzerland, and from thence 
 to Italy. The first month was one of unalloyed 
 bliss — I thought of nothing and was entirely 
 happy. Then I began to feel uneasy He 
 had promised to marry me, but he seemed in 
 
lyo A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 no hurry to fulfil his promise, and finally he 
 confessed that he was married already, although 
 separated from his wife. This was a terrible 
 blow. He protested that he would never for- 
 sake me, and he soothed me, but I never got 
 over it. I grew despondent and moody, till 
 at last I wearied him, and I began to dis- 
 cover that if I wished to retain his affec- 
 tions I must keep him amused. This was 
 humiliating. I began to lose my self-respect, 
 and that made me all the more melancholy. 
 I sobbed and moaned when I was alone, but 
 that was not the way to make myself cheer- 
 ful. Then I discovered that an actress at 
 Naples had fascinated him, and I felt that he 
 was gradually slipping from me. At last he 
 took me back to St Petersburg and established 
 me in a small flat. But I had him watched, 
 and I found out that the actress from Naples 
 had come also. I did not see him often, and I 
 was very, very wretched. One day I could 
 not bear it any longer. I went to the apart- 
 ments of the Italian woman, which I had found 
 out, and I forced my way in. He was there. 
 I made a scene. He was very angry, and took 
 me home ; he threw a thousand roubles on the 
 table and left me, and I never saw him again. 
 
THE NURSE 'S STOR Y 171 
 
 I felt like a wild beast. 1 vowed vengeance. 
 I told him I would murder the woman — I do 
 not know what I did not say. But the next 
 morning the police came and took me off as 
 an escaped serf to your grandmother. 
 
 ' When she saw me she smiled and said, — 
 
 '"You see it is dangerous for kittens to try to 
 rival the lioness," and she sent me off to the country. 
 Still she was merciful, and I was not flogged. 
 
 ' At Volkovo your grandfather took a fancy 
 to me and wanted to make me his mistress, but 
 I would not consent ; so, by way of revenge, 
 he married me to a drunken peasant who led 
 me a dreadful life, for he was very jealous of me. 
 
 ' Fortunately he did not live long, and your 
 grandmiOther found me a better husband. Your 
 father was always kind to me, and when you 
 were born he put you under my care, and since 
 then my life has flowed on gently and calmly.' 
 
 * My poor Agraphia,' said Olga, ' how you 
 have suffered.' 
 
 'Yes, my darling; but if you will take warn- 
 ing by me I shall not have suffered in vain. 
 Do not trust the men.' 
 
 * No, I will not, Agraphenka.' 
 
 And thus talking, Olga soon fell placidly to 
 sleep in her nurse's arms. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 CONSEQUENCES 
 
 Next morning at breakfast Olga's health was 
 the general topic of conversation. Mme. Ous- 
 penski expressed herself much concerned, and 
 talked about sending for the doctor. The general 
 was of opinion that Olga had had too much excite- 
 ment and dissipation, and Alexandrine said, — 
 
 * Of course the change from country life to 
 town air must be trying at first, but you will 
 get used to it.' 
 
 'To-day,' Mme. Ouspenski decreed, *you must 
 have perfect rest, and stay at home. We are 
 all going out, so that you will be quite by your- 
 self, with no one to disturb you. A day of 
 absolute calm will be an excellent restorative. 
 You have over-fatigued yourself, and your nerves 
 are a little shaken. If you do not feel better to- 
 morrow, we must have the doctor to see you.' 
 
 It was useless for Olga to protest that she 
 172 
 
CONSEQ UENCES 1 7 3 
 
 was feeling quite well. The idea of spending 
 the day indoors did not particularly please her, 
 and the possible advent of a doctor, who would 
 probably make her take some stupid and nasty 
 medicine, quite terrified her. But it was wisest to 
 submit ; resistance would be useless. So she bore 
 the solicitude of her friends with resignation. 
 
 The great subject of interest, however, was 
 the emperor's speech, which Vladimir read out 
 aloud from the papers. 
 
 ' Then we may expect war,' said Mme. Ous- 
 penski. ' I am afraid Nicholas will be ordered 
 off Where is Nicholas? Will you see where 
 Nicolai Constantinovitch is, man?' she said to 
 the servant. 
 
 In Russia, footmen are always addressed by the 
 generic term of ' man,' and endeavour, by their 
 dignified bearing, to justify the appellation. 
 
 But Nicholas had left exceptionally early that 
 morning, and no one knew whither he had 
 gone. 
 
 Olga shuddered when she heard the announce- 
 ment, and began to wonder whether there had 
 after all been some truth in Lissenko's story. 
 Last night's adventure had seemed, viewed in 
 the light of a bright winter's morning, like a 
 horrid unreality, a hysterical dream ; the de- 
 
 M 
 
174 -4 RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 parture of Nicholas brought it all back to her 
 with terrifying distinctness. 
 
 * Oh, Olga ! ' said Mme. Ouspenski, ' I have 
 news for you. You must keep very quiet to- 
 day and get quite well, and to-morrow evening 
 I will take you to the governor's ball, and you 
 shall be presented to the emperor.' 
 
 And with this treat in store for her, Olga was 
 left to herself for the morning. She retired to 
 Mme. Ouspenski's boudoir, and took up a book 
 in order to try to read. But she could not 
 concentrate her mind on anything. Her thoughts 
 flew back to her short experience of fashionable 
 life, her foolishness and her narrow escape. She 
 upbraided herself for having placed any trust 
 or faith in Lissenko, who now appeared to her 
 in repulsive colours. Nevertheless, it was just 
 possible that there might be some truth in the 
 duel story, that that insufferably conceited cox- 
 comb, Nicholas, might have insolently talked of 
 her in the barrack-room, and that Lissenko had 
 resented this. Still it was difficult to believe 
 Lissenko capable of any heroic action, although 
 there was always the possibility of his not being, 
 after all, the unprincipled villain he seemed. 
 But there was no occasion for that impetuous 
 flight if he had meant honourably by her. He 
 
CONSEQUENCES 175 
 
 could have solicited her hand in due form, and 
 there was no obvious reason why he should not 
 have been accepted. If the duel story was true, 
 that, of course, altered the whole case, but even 
 then it would have been more noble of him to 
 have laid down his life in the defence of her 
 good name than to have tried to sacrifice her 
 reputation to his passion. She could not, there- 
 fore, bring herself to believe the duel story. 
 Besides, much as she disliked Nicholas, she always 
 felt that, however objectionable and conceited he 
 might be, his faults were more those of the head 
 than of the heart, and that he was a gentleman 
 and a man of honour. It was sad to find her 
 idol shattered ; it seemed impossible to restore 
 him to his place. Not even the ardour of passion, 
 which imparts to Slavonic races an impetuosity 
 scarcely credible in the well-ordered surround- 
 ings of English domesticity, could supply an 
 adequate excuse for Lissenko's wild behaviour. 
 There was nothing for it but to remove him 
 from his pedestal, and cast his image from her 
 into the outer darkness of oblivion. Perhaps 
 her wounded vanity suffered more than her 
 heart. But she could, at least, console herself 
 with many comforting reflections. For one 
 thing, she had gone through a trying ordeal, 
 
176 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 and had come out of it unscathed and un- 
 shaken, strengthened rather than weakened. For 
 the consciousness of having overcome, and the 
 knowledge that dangers have been safely 
 weathered and lie behind us, give us strength 
 and courage and a delicious, gentle sensation 
 of peacefulness — the calm which succeeds the 
 storm. And then it had been an experience. 
 She who had wanted to see life, who had 
 thirsted for the fierce excitement of mingling 
 with her fellow-beings, and feeling, as it were, 
 the waters and eddies of the river of life 
 actually carrying her along ; she, who had 
 longed for real contact with the world, had 
 certainly no right to complain. She had, in- 
 deed, been seeing life. At the very thought 
 of it her blood tingled with excitement even 
 now. A more stirring adventure she could 
 scarcely have imagined. As far as ' life ' was 
 concerned, she certainly was in the thick of 
 it. Politics, wars, the great questions that 
 move empires, were her daily bread, so to 
 speak, and she was able to approach them in 
 their actual gorgeous setting, served up in 
 gold and diamonds, as it were ; she was in 
 the heart of that great world which fondly 
 believes it governs the universe, which con- 
 
CONSEQ UENCES 1 7 7 
 
 sidcrs itself the sun of the social system. 
 And now she had seen another side of that 
 ever-fascinating kaleidoscope called life. She 
 had seen with her own eyes something of 
 human passion. But although her adventure 
 had given her a secret satisfaction, which she 
 hardly dared to confess even to herself, it had 
 produced another effect which she could not 
 refuse to recognise. It had disgusted her with 
 society. She was disenchanted, sobered and 
 saddened. Safe again in the comfortably up- 
 holstered dovecote of respectability, she could 
 not look back at the precipice over which she 
 had so very nearly fallen without a shudder. 
 As she now looked upon the motley crowd 
 of fashionable pleasure-seekers, with the con- 
 sciousness of her recent danger still upon her, 
 and Agraphia's pathetic story ringing in her 
 ears, she was seized with a feeling of repug- 
 nance and contempt for the whole crowd. 
 Society she now regarded as a vain and 
 empty mummery, the men and women moving 
 in it seemed unreal and false — mere dolls 
 stuffed with sawdust. Society was a huge, 
 gigantic paradox, an unconscious swindle. Re- 
 vealed before her, as though by magic, she saw 
 the hollowness of social phrases, the h}-pocrisy 
 
178 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 of conventional usages, the meanlnglessness of 
 family ties. Life was a sham. Men and 
 women went about the world masquerading. 
 Everybody was trying to deceive everybody 
 else, and nobody really believed anyone. Here 
 Proudsorin's views were comprehensible, here 
 Nihilism seemed the only true faith ; it was 
 virtually already the accepted creed ; to believe 
 in nothing was the only possible form of belief 
 in a. world of nothingness and nonentities. 
 
 While Olga was thus reviewing her impres- 
 sions, congratulating herself upon her escape and 
 enjoying the luxury of meditation, the ' man ' 
 announced a visitor. It was a Captain Ivanoff, 
 a comrade of Nicholas's. He looked pale and 
 nervous as he entered the room. 
 
 ' Perhaps it is as well/ he said awkwardly, 
 
 * that neither Mme. Ouspenski nor the general 
 should be in. You will no doubt convey the 
 communication I have to make more delicately 
 than a rough soldier like myself could hope to do.' 
 
 ' What is the matter ? ' said Olga in alarm ; 
 
 * nothing serious, I hope.* 
 
 ' I am afraid it is serious, yet I do not think 
 there is cause for anxiety. Nicholas Ouspenski 
 has had a bad accident.' 
 
 * Well, proceed.' 
 
CONSEQ UENCES 1 79 
 
 ' I am afraid that is difficult,' said Captain 
 Ivanofif, uneasily pulling his moustache. ' There 
 has been a bad accident/ 
 
 ' You mean to say there has been a duel.' 
 
 * You are remarkably accurate. It is quite so. 
 There — there has been a duel.' 
 
 ' And Nicholas was wounded. Is the other 
 man, Lissenko, also wounded?' 
 
 ' I am amazed at your penetration. The — the 
 other man, I am sorry to say, is well.' 
 
 * What was the duel about ? ' 
 
 ' Of course there was a woman at the bottom 
 of it. You will pardon me for putting things 
 plainly. Liss — I mean the other man — said 
 something about a lady whom Nicholas — er — 
 respected, and Nicholas did not like what the 
 other man said, and, I am really very sorry, 
 but he was — I mean he is a very hot-tempered 
 young man, and he struck the other man, and 
 then he did not wait to be challenged, but sent 
 a challenge, and they fought this morning, and 
 Nicholas is badly wounded.' 
 
 * Where is he ? ' said Olga, excited beyond 
 measure. 'Where is he? Take me to him at 
 once.' 
 
 Captain Ivanoff wiped the beads of perspiration 
 from his brow. 
 
i8o A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * I am afraid I can't. You see he is very 
 badly wounded ; I am afraid he will never be 
 the same man again. He is unconscious. Oh ! 
 how am I to tell you ? ' and the gallant captain's 
 voice faltered and the tears stood in his eyes. 
 * Be prepared for the worst. Nicholas is dead ! 
 He was shot through the heart' 
 
 ' Nicholas Ouspenski dead ! Oh, God ! ' 
 ' I am very sorry to cause you so much dis- 
 tress, but — but — he died bravely and nobly. The 
 whole business was most honourable and fair. 
 I was his second. He met his death like a 
 soldier.' 
 
 ' And you saw him shot — shot in cold blood — 
 and could stand by without trying to save him, 
 without trying to bring his murderer to justice ? ' 
 
 * But he was not murdered. It was a duel, 
 an affair of honour. I could do nothing. I 
 cannot tell you how I feel it. He was the 
 best friend I had,' and Captain Ivanoff wiped 
 a tear from his eye under pretence of blowing 
 his nose. 
 
 Then there had been some truth in Lissenko's 
 story after all, only he had ingeniously perverted it. 
 
 * I have a letter,' the captain said, ' for Princess 
 Olga Obolenski. Can you tell me how to find 
 her?' 
 
CONSEQUENCES i8i 
 
 ' I am Princess Olga Obolenski.' 
 
 Captain Ivanoff, who did not frequent ball- 
 rooms and parties, being a confirmed bachelor, 
 looked at her in amazement, and handed her the 
 letter. * I have another for his mother.' 
 
 Olga took them both. ' What has become of 
 Lissenko?' she asked. 
 
 'I think he has fled.' 
 
 At this moment the door opened and Mme. 
 Ouspenski burst in, indignant to hear that Olga 
 was receiving the addresses of a strange officer 
 of Hussars in her sanctum of respectability. But 
 Olga did not give her time to speak. 
 
 * Nicholas is dead,' she screamed hysterically ; 
 * this letter will tell you all ! ' And so saying she 
 left the room. 
 
 Olga rushed upstairs, tore open her letter, and 
 read the last words of Nicholas to her. They 
 were full of passionate adoration and were in- 
 stinct with manliness. Too late she discovered 
 the honest heart that had been concealed under 
 a self-sufficient and foppish exterior. But even 
 in her sorrow over this wasted young life, she 
 felt that she could never have loved him, how- 
 ever she may have learned to like and respect 
 him. It was even doubtful whether he had 
 really loved her, or whether he was not merely 
 
i82 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 another victim of the shams of this world. 
 There was nothing real in it anywhere. So 
 false and artificial was this society that even 
 human life had only a conventional, a theatrical 
 value. Nevertheless, Olga was profoundly touched 
 as she read his farewell lines, and wept to think 
 that his last thought was of her, of her who 
 did not love him. It was a truly tragic end. 
 
 We will pass over the scene which ensued in 
 the Ouspenski household when the sad news 
 became generally known. The body was im- 
 mediately brought to the house and laid in 
 state in the room of him who had once animated 
 it. The general was inconsolable. Nicholas had 
 been his favourite child. 
 
 Olga, who knew herself to be the cause of 
 all this misery, and who accused herself of hav- 
 ing blighted the happiness of the family, could 
 not bear to meet the sorrow-stricken faces of 
 her hosts, who seemed to mutely reproach her 
 for her heartlessness. She determined to leave 
 a roof the hospitality of which she felt she had 
 forfeited every right to enjoy, and so she wrote 
 a letter to her father, acquainting him with the 
 sad event and praying him to take her away. 
 
 It was a delicate matter for Prince Obolenski 
 to arrange, but the Ouspenskis understood her 
 
CONSEQUENCES 183 
 
 feelings, and were grateful. So she was taken 
 off and put with a cousin of her father's, Mme. 
 Dobroff. She took a last farewell of Nicholas, 
 and kissed his pale corpse, and left the fashion- 
 able Ouspenskis with ideas very different from 
 those with which she had first come under their 
 roof The golden veil of the illusions of youth 
 had been lifted from her eyes for a brief space, 
 and she had had a glimpse of the grim realities 
 of life. A kind of terror seemed to lay hold 
 of her, as she thought of the enormities com- 
 mitted in the name of love and honour. Neither 
 life nor virtue were safe in this terrible society. 
 The barbarities of savages paled before the re- 
 finements of civilisation. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 RETREAT 
 
 Prince Obolenski's tact, so rarely at fault, had 
 shown itself equal even to his present difficult 
 position. He had recognised that after recent 
 unfortunate circumstances it would not have 
 been decent for Olga to continue her life of 
 gaiety and pleasure; the proprieties demanded 
 a short period, at least, of retreat, not to say 
 mourning. To send his daughter back to the 
 country would not have been advisable. In 
 the first place, it would have put her under a 
 stigma ; it would, to a certain extent, have 
 looked like a punitive measure, implying banish- 
 ment and disgrace. The mauvaises langues of 
 Moscow might have wagged, and the prince 
 hated scandal. But there was a second reason. 
 Prince Obolenski, mindful whose blood ran in 
 his daughter's veins, did not consider that, after 
 a nip, or whiff, as it were, of the pleasures of 
 
 elegant society, she would be able to bring 
 
 184 
 
RETREAT 185 
 
 herself to settle down quietly to a humdrum 
 country life. She would be bored to death if 
 she submitted with docility, but he knew her, 
 or, perhaps, himself, too well to suppose for a 
 moment that she would be submissive, and he 
 shuddered when he thought what form her revolt 
 might take, or to what indiscretions her ennui 
 might drive her. If all parents were but as 
 prudent and worldly-wise, much family trouble 
 might possibly be avoided. But generally 
 parents have exaggerated ideas about their 
 own children, and hesitate to apply to them 
 the teachings of homely common-sense. Never- 
 theless, in spite of the blind stupidity of indi- 
 viduals, the great universal social organism grows 
 and moves on in harmonious progress. There is, 
 after all, much less wretchedness in this para- 
 doxical world of ours, where the good and the 
 evil seem to be perpetually balancing each 
 other, than the superficial observer would suppose 
 or the doctrinaire logician concede. As we float 
 down the stream of life, we can indeed prevent 
 ourselves from sinking, but we cannot materially 
 alter our course. Call it luck, or call it fate, 
 or humbly and piously worship it as Providence, 
 whatever it may be, the mysterious force which 
 controls the opportunities and brings about the 
 
i86 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 circumstances of our lives is stronger than we. 
 Thus Prince Obolenski might be as prudent and 
 tactful as he pleased, he was impotent to avert 
 from Olga those experiences and trials which 
 the growth and development of her character 
 needed. 
 
 He placed her, as we have said, with Mme. 
 Dobroff, and he selected that good lady to be 
 Olga's guardian on account of her great reputation 
 for piety. Indeed, Mme. DobrofTs house was 
 a kind of lay convent into which men certainly 
 were admitted, but where they were regarded 
 with due suspicion. Olga was now, so to speak, 
 *in retreat.' 
 
 Mme. Dobroff held in the world of piety and 
 benevolence a position somewhat analogous to 
 that of Mme. Ouspenski in general society. 
 She was a leader. Her wealth was great, and 
 her position, as president of numerous charitable 
 institutions, gave her influence and dignity. 
 She had passed the halcyon age of forty, 
 but still possessed the graces and elegances 
 which help to compel adoration and respect. 
 She could not forget that she had been a 
 beauty, and she consequently retained an air 
 of classic purity and grandeur; she seemed to 
 breathe and move in an atmosphere of her own, 
 
RETREAT 187 
 
 too rarefied for ordinary vulgar mortals, and the 
 consciousness of her superiority bred a con- 
 descension of manner which had something regal 
 and saintly in it. She loved and worshipped 
 herself with insatiable vanity, and her self-esteem 
 was nourished and stimulated by a crowd of 
 dependents, whose sole mission in life was to 
 flatter and admire her. 
 
 Among other things, she was the lady-patroness 
 of a foundation school for girls, and when she 
 appeared in the capacious class-rooms of this 
 institution, the pupils fell on their knees and 
 almost worshipped her. She used to hold out 
 her hand to be kissed, and glide through the 
 place like a sort of divinity. The poor lady's 
 head had been so completely turned, and she 
 was so conscious of her own preternatural 
 goodness and perfection, that honest and right- 
 minded people could with difficulty hold converse 
 with her. 
 
 Yet she was no recluse, but loved society. On 
 certain days she held a kind of court, at which 
 young men and maidens, old men and women, 
 and even children attended. On these occasions 
 she was ' discovered sitting,' as the play-books 
 have it, in an arm-chair, which did duty for a 
 throne, one of her little feet placed on a footstool 
 
i88 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 and coquettishly peeping out under the austere 
 black silk dress in which her elegant figure was 
 draped. Her matchless white hands, ornamented 
 at the wrists with ruffles of white lace, were 
 meekly crossed upon her lap, the right one being 
 every now and again extended to new arrivals, 
 who always kissed it with reverence. Here tea 
 was sipped, and religion, tempered by scandal, 
 formed the topic of conversation. Just then 
 Spiritualism and the persecuted Bulgarians were 
 much in vogue. The scandal, however, was per- 
 manent, and particularly venomous, as it always 
 is when coming from the lips of meritorious 
 persons. 
 
 Besides these receptions Mme. Dobroff also 
 gave morning audiences to those who sought her 
 bounty or her patronage. People had to wait 
 in a sort of ante-room for their turn, which 
 sometimes never came. Waiting here was gener- 
 ally a terrible ordeal. Few human beings really 
 enjoy humbling themselves in the dust, but to 
 have to wait half-an-hour before you are admitted 
 into the presence of the great personage, with 
 nothing to do but to speculate upon the proba- 
 bilities of your success, must be anxious, especially 
 as so much may depend upon that interview of 
 a few minutes. 
 
RETREAT 189 
 
 In short, Mme. Dobroff was a model of religion 
 and perfection, charitable and punctilious in the 
 performance of her religious duties ; fasting during 
 Lent and on Fridays, communicating and con- 
 fessing her sins, and revered by the clergy, who 
 admired her virtues and appreciated her alms 
 and oblations. Evil-minded people had indeed 
 hinted that she hid behind an exalted austerity 
 a too susceptible heart, and was not indifferent 
 to the flatteries and adulation of the opposite 
 sex, but these were base insinuations. She cer- 
 tainly mothered several interesting young men 
 and sometimes married them off, but to misin- 
 terpret such acts of kindliness vrould be un- 
 charitable. 
 
 Into this hot-bed of piety, without preparation 
 or warning, was Olga suddenly cast by her tact- 
 ful papa. Hitherto her religious training had 
 been somewhat neglected. Of doctrine she knew 
 next to nothing, and perhaps her faith in a Divine 
 Ruler and Creator was all the more living for 
 being simple and not complicated with incom- 
 prehensible mysteries and dogmas. In short her 
 Christianity had remained pure and undcfiled by 
 the traditions of men, who too frequently make 
 the law of God of none effect. To her, God was 
 everywhere. When she beheld the glorious sun- 
 
 N 
 
iQo A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 shine, when she was happy, or when she was 
 sorrowful, when she saw a good deed done, or 
 observed the happiness of others, she always felt 
 her heart attuned to praise the Giver of all 
 good gifts, 'for Whose pleasure we are and were 
 created.' 
 
 Thus her life, though clogged with the frail 
 longings, disappointments and heart-burnings of 
 human nature, had on the whole been a happy 
 and harmonious psalm. Hers had been the 
 religion of life and generous impulse, not that of 
 the soured devotee. Perhaps latterly, during her 
 short period of frivolity and dissipation, the still, 
 small voice of conscience had been drowned by 
 the louder noises of the world, and it might be 
 that the shock which the coarser side of her 
 nature had just received had drawn her mind to 
 religion. 
 
 If this was the case, those who cavil at the 
 ways of Providence, or who rather prefer to ignore 
 it altogether and to believe in chance, may think 
 it was rather unfortunate that it was at this 
 juncture that she should have revealed to her 
 the worldly side of religion. Certainly she was 
 quite unprepared for the new experience. Her 
 home life had been free and face to face with 
 nature, and the Ouspenski household, with its 
 
RETREAT 191 
 
 aristocratic ejitourage^ was still less calculated to 
 instruct her in the religion of the world. But 
 the religion in which Mine. Dobroff believed was 
 essentially a temporal and sacerdotal one ; it was 
 that of ' the church militant here on earth,' and 
 had little to do with heaven. 
 
 By degrees, however, Olga began to see the 
 true inwardness of Mme. Dobroff's religion, 
 which consisted in the worship of herself in 
 lieu of the Deity. Of course it was not Chris- 
 tianity which was to blame for the hypocrisy 
 of its votary, but people are often apt to mis- 
 take the shadow for the substance. 
 
 It was to be feared that such confusion 
 might arise in the mind of Olga and cause 
 her much affliction and anguish ; but we are 
 advancing matters. 
 
 For the present all was fair and bright. 
 Mme. Dobroff received Olga with melting sweet- 
 ness. Olga was petted and was kissed and 
 made much of, and a beatific smile played 
 on Mme. Dobroff's interesting mouth, a smile 
 supposed to be indicative of an exceptionally 
 charitable disposition within. 
 
 Prince Obolenski seemed to overflow with 
 rapture. Mme. Dobroff was charming ; she was 
 an angel. 
 
192 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Mme. Dobroff was receiving Olga back into 
 the fold, as it were, as though she were a sort 
 of prodigal daughter. Her charitable imagina- 
 tion had put two and two together, and she 
 had instinctively connected in her own mind 
 Nicholas's duel with some indiscretion of Olga's ; 
 and though she was right in the main, she 
 had allowed herself mentally to exaggerate 
 grossly the circumstances of the case, which 
 were only known to Olga. 
 
 As the day on which Olga arrived happened 
 to be one of the numerous fast-days with 
 which Russia is blessed, Mme. Dobroff com- 
 menced the religious discipline at once, and 
 so to her dismay Olga found that the dinner, 
 to which her father had not been invited, con- 
 sisted exclusively of inaigre chaii'e. In the 
 Russian kitchen meals for fasts are prepared 
 with seed oil instead of butter. Neither Prince 
 Obolenski nor the princess had ever affected 
 fasts, which the nobles of Russia do not usually 
 observe very closely, and Olga was incapable 
 of swallowing the nauseous, evil-smelling dishes. 
 
 'You eat nothing, my dear,' said Mme. 
 Dobroff 
 
 ' I am afraid I cannot eat seed oil,' poor Olga 
 replied reluctantly, afraid of giving offence. 
 
RETREAT 193 
 
 Mme. Dobroff was shocked — she stared at 
 Olga in amazement. 
 
 'Do you never fast?' she inquired in horror- 
 stricken tones. 
 
 ' No, never/ Olga answered calmly but diffi- 
 dently. 
 
 ' My poor child ! No wonder — ' But here 
 she regained self-control to stop, while Olga 
 looked up in surprise. The companion and 
 secretary, a humble, fat and spectacled person, did 
 not say a word, but looked indescribably sad. 
 
 'You must learn to subdue the rebellious flesh, 
 my dear ; you must fast, and mortify the flesh in 
 its carnal affections. As Our Lord and Saviour 
 suffered for our sins, so must you, my child, 
 strive to imitate Him by fasting and prayer.' 
 
 Olga had indeed learned that the church 
 had appointed certain days and seasons for 
 fasting, but though she had herself fasted in 
 a fashion, she had never suspected that she 
 was imitating Christ, and she had never been 
 told that the oil was a necessary part of the 
 observance. Anxious to please her new men- 
 trix she tried to swallow the nasty stuff, but 
 the flesh was weak and, moreover, rebellious ; 
 and thus the first experiment in religious dis- 
 cipline proved a failure. 
 
194 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 But the religious side of Olga's education 
 was now to commence in earnest. Pedagogues 
 have maintained that childhood is the best 
 age for training, and that it is very difficult 
 to remodel the character when once maturity 
 is reached. This view may be true or false, 
 but to Olga it seemed correct in the main. 
 Fasting, church-going (in Russian places of wor- 
 ship the congregation have to stand), improv- 
 ing conversation, the society of priests and 
 pious men and women — all these things, Olga 
 thought, had either come too late or too early 
 in her life, and they did not find favour with 
 her. At home she had of course gone to 
 church like everybody else, but she had not 
 spent her life there. 
 
 Of course the idea of being presented to the 
 emperor was given up, and there was an end 
 to the butterfly existence which she had lately 
 been leading. Olga herself felt that, after the 
 sad experience she had gone through, a certain 
 amount of retirement was only decent. 
 
 How long Olga would have lived on in this 
 pious fashion it is impossible to say, had not 
 what people call an accident changed the course 
 of her life. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY BALL 
 
 One of the great features of the Moscow season 
 is, or used to be, the University ball. The 
 students of the University, in those days, at least, 
 were wont to give at the Nobles' Club an annual 
 ball for the benefit of the poorer members of the 
 fraternity. To this ball it was the fashion for 
 everybody to go, and both Mme. Dobroff and 
 Olga meant to attend. 
 
 Olga rather looked forward to it. She would 
 there see a more motley assembly than she had 
 yet beheld, and she was rather curious to know 
 whether there were many Proudsorins in the 
 world, or whether he was original and unique. 
 But the University ball was always held at the 
 end of January, and, in the meantime, Olga had 
 to spend her days monotonously, with no greater 
 excitement by way of variety than a drive, a visit 
 to Princess Nevielski, for she would not give up 
 her friend, or her riding lesson. The Ouspenskis, 
 of course, saw nobody, and so Olga was rather 
 
 195 
 
196 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 lonely. During Christmas she did not go out. 
 Much regret was expressed at her retirenfient ; 
 but in the world, to be out of sight is to be out 
 of mind, and so she was not much missed. With 
 the exception of Agraphia and Princess Nevielski, 
 no woman knew the true story of the duel between 
 Lissenko and Nicholas, and it is much to Princess 
 Nevielski's credit that she kept her secret, and 
 did not even communicate it in confidence to her 
 dearest friends — if she had any. After all, she 
 must have had a finer character than people gave 
 her credit for ; few women would have been capable 
 of such heroism. 
 
 At last the time arrived, and Mme. Dobrofif and 
 Olga started for the ball. The Nobles' Club is 
 a fine building, with splendid saloons, and would 
 be creditable to London, surpassing in magnifi- 
 cence anything of the sort that we possess. 
 
 Olga was pleased at meeting many friends. 
 She was soon dancing to her heart's content. 
 
 The assembly was indeed a motley one. There 
 were ladies present of every description ; some 
 dressed with elegance and taste, some loud and 
 vulgar, some shabby, and some not dressed at 
 all, but in ordinary walking costume. The men, 
 too, offered an amusing spectacle. Every variety 
 of uniform was represented, and almost every 
 
THE UNIVERSITY BALL 197 
 
 rank. The civilians were mostly in evening 
 dress, but what strange garments some of those 
 dress-coats were ! Many were in morning dress. 
 Here was a splendid opportunity for studying 
 the effects of unwonted combinations of colours. 
 The ladies of the Russian merchant class suc- 
 ceeded in blending red, yellow, blue, green and 
 purple in one costume. The well-dressed portion 
 of the company showed to all the more advan- 
 tage for the violence of the contrast. But the 
 shabby ones were not ashamed, and enjoyed 
 themselves perhaps better than the others. Many 
 of them had pawned what valuables they pos- 
 sessed to put in an appearance and purchase 
 such refreshment as they loved. For it must 
 be admitted that Russian students are not all 
 sober, and some of them were already much the 
 better for frequent draughts of vodka. As the 
 evening wore on, their number increased, until 
 at last there remained to testify that a ball was 
 going on, but a mass of reeling, tumbling, pros- 
 trate individuals of both sexes scattered over the 
 floors of the saloons. Of course Olga did not 
 stay to witness this finale. It was understood 
 that all decent persons should be gone by twelve. 
 Until then no candid observer could have detected 
 anything extraordinary. But after twelve the 
 
198 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 bonds were loosened, respectability hied herself 
 away, and the orgy began. Notwithstanding the 
 mixedness of the company, there were no brawls. 
 The patrician and the plebeian, the reactionary 
 and the Nihilist, met here on neutral ground. 
 Everybody knew his place and kept it. Those 
 who do not belong to the magic circles of 
 'society' must put up with what they can get. 
 Our civilisation is of so complex a nature that 
 it can bestow its advantages only on the few; 
 the many have to view the reverse of the medal, 
 and are requested to keep it to themselves. 
 
 Olga enjoyed the scene hugely. The dancing 
 was so exquisitely amusing that nothing could 
 transcend it. We English used to have an idea 
 that all foreigners danced to perfection, and that 
 elegance and deceitfulness were the inbred qualities 
 of every denizen of the Continent. We are at last 
 discovering our mistake ; but when shall we admit 
 that the Russians are, at least, as awkward and as 
 honest as ourselves? Not till we have seen a 
 Russian public ball. 
 
 Although there was much variety and con- 
 fusion, it was patent that everybody was doing 
 his best and was pleased with the result. Some 
 of the ladies displayed a waddling gracefulness 
 beyond imitation, and when in the crush and 
 
THE UNIVERSITY BALL 199 
 
 heat of the battle they were untowardly upset, 
 they rose again with smiling self-complacency 
 and resumed the business of the evening, their 
 countenances shining with benevolence and per- 
 spiration. During the square dances, too, it was 
 amusing to watch the different sets. Here the 
 correct and languid nobles, there the fussy and 
 bustling merchants, and then the clumsy, awkward, 
 bungling students. 
 
 But if Olga watched the others, she also danced 
 herself, and Mme. Dobroff speedily discovered 
 that her duties as chaperon would not be onerous. 
 After her long retirement, a whiff of dissipation 
 was delicious. Yet Olga was not quite at her 
 ease. There was something on her mind that 
 made her anxious. Would she meet Proudsorin ? 
 The prospect of such a meeting could not but 
 cause her some perturbation. What would he 
 say ? How should she behave ? She felt it 
 would be awkward, and yet she secretly longed 
 to see him again, after her experience of the 
 world. She wondered whether he would still 
 appear as remarkable in her eyes as ever, or 
 whether he would seem commonplace and even 
 ludicrous. Was he an original person, or only 
 a type cast in a common mould ? There cer- 
 tainly were many young men at that ball who 
 
20O A RUSSIAN V/ILD FLOWER 
 
 had an air of resembling him, but she thought 
 they lacked his fire, and his haughty contempt 
 of conventionality. The more she looked about 
 her, the more Olga felt that he could be no 
 ordinary man who seemed to stand thus by 
 himself, and the more her uneasiness increased. 
 
 Among the heroes of the ball was Herr 
 Schultze, the proud possessor of the Moscow 
 Tattersall. In stand-up collar fitting tightly round 
 his neck, his face nearly purple, in faultless 
 evening garments, with step elastic and with 
 form erect — there was Herr Schultze. 
 
 ' May I have the pleasure of a tour with you, 
 princess?' Olga heard a voice behind her say. 
 She turned round and saw her riding-master. 
 There was a modest grace in his attitude, and 
 a supplicating look upon his face. She could 
 not refuse him. 
 
 ' An old friend of yours, princess, is here, and 
 wishes to have the pleasure of a dance, but does 
 not know how you will receive him.' 
 
 * An old friend of mine ! How ridiculous of 
 him to be afraid of me ! What is his name ? ' 
 
 ' His name is Proudsorin,' Herr Schultze replied, 
 as he watched the effect of his answer. But Olga 
 had guessed who he was, and had also learned by 
 this time to hide her feelings. 
 
THE UNIVERSITY BALL 201 
 
 ' M. Proudsorin ! Oh ! yes ! Of course, I recol- 
 lect him very well ; he was my brother's tutor. I 
 shall be very pleased to dance with him. What 
 can have made him so bashful ? ' 
 
 Later on, the meeting she had so much dreaded 
 actually took place. He had not altered in the 
 least, but in her the change was great, and she felt 
 it. Her brief experience of life had made almost 
 a different person of her. He was in evening 
 dress, and his appearance, in a conventional white 
 tie and shirt-front, seemed to accord so ill with 
 the opinions she had heard him express that it 
 almost provoked her to smile. 
 
 ' Then you have not forgotten me, princess ? ' 
 
 ' No, as you see, I have not forgotten you. Nor 
 is it likely that I should forget you so soon. It 
 is only a few months since I saw you last, Mon- 
 sieur Proudsorin.' 
 
 ' No ! Only a few months,' he answered 
 moodily. * And how do you like society ? Does 
 the air of Moscow, the atmosphere of hypocrisy, 
 agree with you ? ' 
 
 As he put the question he looked into her face 
 in that cold, cynical way of his which she remem- 
 bered so well, and which had puzzled her so at 
 Volkovo. Yet he could ill-conceal his pleasure 
 at seeing her again. Many feelings were struggling 
 
202 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 in his breast, to some of which he would probably 
 have been ashamed to give a name. He had 
 half-expected to find Olga a proud and haughty 
 beauty, icy and sarcastic, who would ignore him 
 and laugh at his folly. He was vexed with him- 
 self for playing the love-sick idiot, and making 
 himself the laughing-stock, as he had half hoped 
 he would, of the stuck-up dandies by whom she 
 would be surrounded. But she had actually 
 permitted him to dance with her. This gracious- 
 ness while it pleased, yet nearly maddened him. 
 He had proposed to himself to watch from some 
 obscure corner, with cynical satisfaction and 
 malignant joy, the beauty, whom he had once 
 admired, flirting with dandies and fashionable 
 milk-sops, herself as heartless, frivolous and hypo- 
 critical as the society in which she moved. He had 
 promised himself an evening of luxurious misery, of 
 gloating over his own wretchedness, and he was 
 disappointed. His savage spirit was baulked 
 of its feast. But the bitterness could not be dis- 
 pelled at a moment's notice. 
 
 Olga answered him evasively. 
 
 * I have been too short a time in town,' she said, ' to 
 have formed an opinion on the social atmosphere.' 
 
 ' But you have not been too short a time to 
 learn to conceal your thoughts.' 
 
THE UNIVERSITY BALL 203 
 
 ' How do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I mean that you have learned that cleverest 
 trick of society, the art of appearing frank and 
 ingenuous when you are really dissimulating. 
 Ah ! It is impossible to touch pitch without 
 being defiled ! ' 
 
 ' And you, M. Proudsorin, have, since I last 
 saw you, learned the still more subtle art of 
 paying compliments without appearing to do so.' 
 
 ' If it flatters you to be thought a hypocrite, 
 you are welcome to the compliment.' 
 
 * How little you understand us ! Every woman 
 is ambitious of deceiving others and acting a part 
 successfully.' This was one of Princess Neviel- 
 ski's maxims at second hand. 
 
 ' Have you found that out already .'' You have 
 indeed made greater progress than I thought. I 
 hope you are pleased with your discovery ? ' 
 
 ' Do you really ? From my recollection of 
 you, which may be inaccurate, I should have 
 thought the very reverse.' 
 
 He looked at her sadly. 
 
 ' I have tried to forget the past,' he said, 
 'but have not succeeded. Those days I spent 
 at Volkovo will remain for ever indelibly im- 
 pressed upon my memory. And have you 
 solved those problems of right and wrong that 
 
204 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 were troubling you then, or have you brushed 
 them impatiently aside ? ' 
 
 'No, I have not solved them,' she answered 
 sadly ; * and the more I see of life the more I 
 fear I never shall.' 
 
 * May I ask what you propose to do ? Pardon 
 me, but at one time I had great hopes of you. 
 I thought you would perhaps some day set 
 an example of usefulness and duty to the 
 idle, giddy throng. Are you going to lead a 
 useful life, or are you content to leave society 
 as you find it? Do you mean merely to 
 enjoy and waste your days in frivolity and 
 pleasure ? ' 
 
 ' Hardly ; at least I hope not ; but what 
 should 1 do? How can I change things? And 
 even if I were to try, I fear I should not know 
 how to set about it, or what was the right 
 thing. I am sensible of my duty as a Christian 
 and a citizen, but I must live and learn.' 
 
 ' Wise, very wise, for one so young ! But 
 you must, at least, have discovered that society 
 is false, and the present order of things wrong, 
 and therefore wicked. Are you going to sit 
 down and allow your moral sense to be 
 corroded by the corruption which surrounds 
 us ? Or have you the courage and the 
 
THE UNIVERSITY BALL 205 
 
 humanity to isolate yourself from the infection 
 and to help to stamp out the disease ? ' 
 
 Every word Proudsorin said came home to 
 her. She looked down not knowing how to 
 answer him. At last her native pride prevailed. 
 
 ' I shall try to do my duty, and whatever 
 course my duty points to I will follow it,' she 
 replied. 
 
 * If you concede that society is false and 
 wrong, your duty can only point in one 
 direction. You must help to change it, to 
 destroy the false so as to make way for the 
 true. You must contribute your mite for the 
 good of humanity. You must help to accelerate 
 the revolution.' 
 
 ' The revolution ? You must explain yourself 
 more fully. But we have been dancing rather 
 too long. Perhaps an opportunity may present 
 itself upon some other occasion.' 
 
 O 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 NIHILISM ON HORSEBACK 
 
 While thinking over her conversation with 
 Proudsorin, Olga asked herself that night why 
 after all she need be an exception to the rest? 
 Why should she not live peacefully and com- 
 fortably as other people did, without troubling 
 herself with difficult problems of right and 
 wrong? She had been born in a sphere of life 
 in which it was possible to do so ! But con- 
 science whispered that this was not an honest 
 frame of mind. Others might do as they 
 pleased — that was their affair; but her business 
 was with herself. The indifference of others 
 was no excuse ; it was but an additional reason 
 why she should set them an example. But 
 what to do? Was Proudsorin a safe mentor? 
 
 His advice had been to 'accelerate the re- 
 volution.' The acquaintance Olga had made 
 with history had been of the most distant and 
 formal kind, but from the inanimate array of 
 
 musty dates the blood-stained figures of 1793 
 
 206 
 
NIHILISM ON HORSEBACK 207 
 
 stood out in lurid relief. Was that the kind of 
 revolution Proudsorin advocated ? She shuddered 
 at the bare idea. What a dreadful fate for 
 Russia ! Nevertheless it was clear that the world 
 was all wrong. Society was rotten, injustice was 
 right, and misery and suffering predominated. 
 
 We are taught at the present day to gauge 
 happiness by wealth alone. Poverty is not 
 permitted to make any pretensions to felicity. 
 Whether the view be correct or not, we who 
 live in the nineteenth century must not, pre- 
 sume to question it. Possibly there may be 
 something that gold cannot purchase, but we 
 moderns would have some difficulty in finding 
 it. Besides, it is generally accepted to-day 
 that the things money cannot buy are not 
 worth having ; and who would be courageous 
 enough to stand up amongst us and preach 
 self-sacrifice and unselfishness ? The clergy do so 
 in the pulpit, but then they are paid for it. 
 
 Through the medium of this modern atmo- 
 sphere Olga was compelled to look — we cannot 
 see things with other eyes than those of our 
 own time. Consequently she pitied the Russian 
 peasant, and assuredly he deserved ', her pit}-; 
 nevertheless he has a contented mind, and that 
 is more than can be said of the rich. 
 
2o8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 If the rich would but regard their riches as 
 something they held in trust for the benefit 
 of the poor, and would act up to the teachings 
 of the Christian religion which they so respect- 
 ably profess, there would perhaps be less 
 languor among the upper and less misery 
 among the lower classes, and possibly there 
 might then be no occasion for a revolution. 
 
 It was probably with thoughts like these 
 that Olga comforted herself 
 
 When she next went to Herr Schultze's 
 establishment for her usual riding lesson, 
 attended by Agraphia, she was surprised, 
 though half prepared, to find Proudsorin there. 
 He greeted her with deferential politeness. To 
 her it seemed a trifle indelicate that he should 
 thus follow up his success. But he considered 
 it his duty to strike while the iron was hot. 
 
 While Olga's horse was getting ready, Proud- 
 sorin, who was far less composed than he 
 seemed, paid her some unmeaning compli- 
 ment. 
 
 ' I am afraid you are getting as conven- 
 tional as the rest of us,' she said gaily, as 
 she mounted her steed. 
 
 She had acquired a graceful seat, and looked in 
 the right place when she was in the saddle. 
 
NIHILISM ON HORSEBACK 209 
 
 Proudsorin looked on and admired, while 
 nervously puffing a cigarette. That girl was 
 beyond his reach. She was beautiful, clever, 
 but unattainable. A deep chasm separated 
 him from her. It was most tantalising. He 
 cursed himself for a fool, and felt inclined to 
 go off at once and straightway put an end to 
 his miserable life. 
 
 ' Now you are looking like yourself again,' 
 she cried as she rode past him. ' Now you 
 are not conventional.' 
 
 ' No, I am not conventional. Sometimes I 
 wish I were.' 
 
 'Is my bad example so catching? I am 
 afraid I am demoralising you,' and with these 
 words she trotted off. 
 
 Demoralising him ! If falling in love was 
 demoralising, then indeed he had lost his 
 integrity. Yes, she was demoralising him. He 
 was becoming a mere woman's plaything. He 
 would pull himself together and be a man. He 
 threw away his cigarette and commenced pacing 
 the visitors' stand. 
 
 ' Now that I have had my ride, I am going to 
 sit down and rest, and you must tell me all you 
 left unsaid the other evening.' With these words 
 Olga accosted him when her lesson was over. 
 
2IO A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * What ! Here in this riding-school ? ' 
 'Where else do you suppose?' 
 
 * Well, what did you wish to know ? ' 
 
 * Have you forgotten that you advised me 
 to accelerate the revolution ? ' she asked half 
 mockingly. It was well that there was no 
 one there to hear her besides Proudsorin. How 
 people would have stared ! 
 
 ' Yes, I did.' 
 
 'But you did not tell me what you meant* 
 Do you intend to murder the emperor, guillo- 
 tine my father and kill everybody, as they 
 did in France? Or is this revolution of yours 
 a quiet and peaceful thing ? ' 
 
 She looked so provokingly charming as she 
 asked him these momentous questions that he 
 involuntarily smiled. 
 
 ' Revolutions,' he answered, * are seldom dis- 
 tinguished for quiet and peacefulness. They 
 are not usually made with rose-water. But we 
 need not imitate the French. We have done 
 too much of that. We must prepare the people 
 to assert themselves ; we must make them think. 
 As soon as they have learned that they are 
 really all-powerful and can do what they will' 
 they will find the means of making their power 
 felt, and getting what they want themselves. 
 
NIHILISM ON HORSEBA CK 211 
 
 All we have to do is to educate them. When 
 that has been done, the present artificial order 
 of society will vanish, but not without an ex- 
 plosion. No great things can be accomplished 
 without a struggle. The reconstruction of society 
 cannot be effected by a few kind words. To 
 shake it to its foundations an earthquake of 
 terrific force will be needed. In other words, 
 the past will have to be wiped out and human- 
 ity will have to begin anew. But just as the 
 hidden subterranean forces of nature mysteri- 
 ously prepare the irruption of a volcano, the 
 minds of the people must be prepared before 
 an upheaval can be brought about. The ideas 
 which are in the air are caught up by minds 
 especially susceptible to them, and are by 
 them disseminated until they germinate and 
 bring forth fruit. It is an inevitable law of 
 nature.' 
 
 * And is there no other way of relieving 
 distress? Cannot the poor be helped without 
 being incited to rebellion ? ' 
 
 * Only they are helped who help themselves. 
 The people must be taught to help themselves. 
 That is the only radical method. Already 
 there are numbers of men and women devot- 
 ing themselves to the awakening of the people. 
 
212 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 If you wish to help you must become one of 
 their number. In other words, you must join 
 the revolutionary propaganda.' 
 
 Olga looked serious. 
 
 'You mean/ she said, 'that I must leave my 
 friends and relations, and devote my life entirely 
 to this object?' 
 
 ' Yes, that is precisely what I mean.' 
 
 When Olga had bidden him farewell and 
 was on her way home she got a curtain lecture 
 from Agraphia for having had anything to say 
 to the student ; nevertheless this was far from 
 being her last meeting with Proudsorin. The 
 riding-school became a regular place of assig- 
 nation. The next time they met she asked 
 him, — 
 
 'Why must I join the revolutionary propa- 
 ganda ? Why may I not do good and even 
 help to educate the people without actually leav- 
 ing house and home?' 
 
 ' Because, if you wish to do a thing at all, it is 
 best to do it well. You cannot serve two masters. 
 But there are such people. There are men 
 and women who half belong to us and half to 
 the mammon of unrighteousness. Their experi- 
 ment will prove a failure. Besides, there are all 
 important reasons why you should join our ranks. 
 
NIHILISM ON HORSEBA CK 213 
 
 In the first place, you would be able to be 
 of greater use. You have talents and other 
 priceless advantages which would make you a 
 most valuable soldier in our army. And in the 
 second place, with us you will be safe. We can 
 and do protect each other. No spy dare betray 
 us. Our vengeance is sure, quick, and terrible. 
 If you but dabble in revolution you run great 
 risks, for the blood-hounds of the police will 
 pounce upon you ; they are ever eager to give 
 proofs of their vigilance, and to show something 
 for the money which is wasted on them. It 
 is the half-hearted and the turn-coats who are 
 sacrificed. No one dares to denounce the brave.' 
 Thus slowly and step by step was Olga 
 being drawn into Proudsorin's meshes, alternately 
 flattered and frightened, with the hideous reali- 
 ties of life only too vividly before her, her 
 noble and impulsive soul thirsting to improve 
 a world so sadly out of joint. She felt herself 
 gradually slipping into sympathy with Nihilism 
 and revolution. It was yet necessary to 
 destroy her belief in a supernatural religion. 
 But even that was not difficult. Proudsorin's 
 magnetic influence was upon her, and he 
 could apparently make her do what he liked. 
 Yet strange to say the more his intellectual 
 
214 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 influence grew, the less she seemed to like 
 the man. Of love towards him she did not feel 
 the faintest spark. He seemed to paralyze all her 
 human affections and to fill her with a sort of 
 cold Roman patriotism, a hard, fanatical sense 
 of duty. The warmth of love was absent. 
 
 He lent her Buchner's Force and Matter. 
 She read it with terror. The world stood un- 
 veiled before her — a mass of soulless matter. 
 * Dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return.' 
 These solemn words now assumed a fresh mean- 
 ing and greeted her wherever she turned. These 
 poor, honest, struggling peasants, these suffering 
 millions of Holy Russia, were they to die in 
 their servitude and anguish without any here- 
 after? Were material pleasures the only enjoy- 
 ments we could hope for ? And the martyrs and 
 saints, had they suffered in vain? Were the 
 struggle for life and the survival of the fittest the 
 only watchwords? If that was so, as indeed 
 it seemed to be, then why should suffering 
 continue? Let us be up and doing, let us 
 gather our roses while we may ! 
 
 It was an unfortunate time for Olga to resist 
 unbelief. Her experience of Mme. Dobroff had 
 sickened her with religion. That lady's house was 
 not one in which a girl of Olga's honesty and 
 
NIHILISM ON HORSEBA CK 215 
 
 shrewdness could learn piety and reverence. The 
 doubts which now assailed her were not to be met 
 by fasts and holy pictures and platitudes. Here 
 were simple scientific facts put before her in 
 plain, unvarnished language, and they refused 
 to be pooh-poohed. How was a girl of eighteen 
 to meet an argument like this, for instance? 
 
 ' Nothing but the changes which we perceive 
 in matter by means of our senses could ever 
 give us any notion as to the existence of powers 
 which we qualify by the name of force. Any 
 knowledge of them by other means is impossible. 
 What are the philosophical consequences of 
 this simple and natural truth? That those who 
 talk of a creative power, which is said to have 
 produced the world out of itself, or out of 
 nothing, are ignorant of the first and most simple 
 principle, founded on experience and the con- 
 templation of nature. How could a power have 
 existed not manifested in material substance^ 
 but governing it arbitrarily according to in- 
 dividual views ? ' {Force and Matter, by Biichner). 
 
 She saw with dismay how, one after another, 
 the cherished beliefs of her childhood were 
 being overthrown. Her vague, sentimental piety 
 was not sufficiently robust to fight and demolish 
 such unimpassioned logic. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE PROMISE OF SPRING 
 
 In her despair she turned to her friend, Princess 
 Nevielski, for counsel and help. The princess 
 was just then experiencing one of her relapses ; 
 she had but recently recovered from a violent 
 attack of piety, and was in no mood for 
 theological disputations. At that particular stage 
 she was suffering from nervous prostration, or 
 boredom. 
 
 ' Ah ! my child ! ' she exclaimed when Olga 
 had unpacked her little budget of griefs, ' have 
 they pulled your idols down also? Cannot 
 even you be protected from this dreadful 
 atheism ? It is horrible ! ' 
 
 * I do not know how to answer. I want you 
 
 to be my friend and help me. I have been 
 
 reading Buchner's Force and Matter, and it has 
 
 left me miserable. I do not know what to 
 
 believe and what not to believe; I hardly 
 
 know whether I believe in anything.' 
 
 ' My poor, dear child ! What made you read 
 216 
 
THE PROMISE OF SPRING 217 
 
 such horrid books? They ahvays make one 
 miserable. Oh ! what I have suffered from 
 them ! But you will get over it, my dear ; it 
 is a disease, and it must run its course, but 
 you will get over it, and feel all right and 
 comfortable again.' 
 
 * Shall I ? Do you really think so ? Do 
 you believe ? Oh ! tell me your reasons ; prove 
 to me that God exists ! Save me from these 
 cruel doubts ! ' 
 
 * Religion, my child, is a matter of feeling, 
 not of reason. There are things in this world,' 
 Princess Nevielski said with a pretty shrug of 
 her sylph-like shoulders ' which cannot be ex- 
 plained. We must take the world as we find 
 it, and pray to God to give us faith. It is 
 no use bothering our heads with matters we 
 cannot understand. We must have faith and 
 believe ! ' 
 
 Have faith and believe — it sounded so easy. 
 But how could she prop up her temple of 
 belief when the foundation had been washed 
 away ? 
 
 ' I cannot honestly believe. Now that these 
 doubts have arisen, I must answer them. I 
 must satisfy myself of the truth of religion.' 
 
 * That is impossible Olga, and quite un- 
 
2i8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 necessary. Why will you take everything so 
 very seriously? Look at me, I really do not 
 know whether I believe in anything or not. 
 But I do not worry about it. When I feel 
 religious, I go to church and say my prayers; 
 when I feel sceptical I do not. That is all. 
 You see that I live and am happy notwith- 
 standing. Why should we fret ourselves? W^e 
 have enough trouble without that. You see 
 I am always merry, and enjoy myself as well 
 as I can,' and Princess Nevielski smiled one of 
 her deliciously sweet smiles and patted Olga's 
 hand. 
 
 But Olga could not take the problems of 
 life so lightly. She stared fixedly at her 
 friend for some time, and then, without warn- 
 ing, she burst into tears. She was distinctly 
 trying. 
 
 'My poor child! What is the matter? I 
 am afraid you are unwell. Your nerves are 
 overwrought ! ' 
 
 Her nerves ! Olga wiped her tears and took 
 leave of her friend. There was no help to be 
 got from her. 
 
 Shortly afterwards a young man called to pay 
 his respects to Princess Nevielski. 
 
 ' You look depressed, princess ! ' he exclaimed. 
 
THE PROMISE OF SPRING 219 
 
 ' Has tlie world dared to spoil you a little less 
 than usual ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! I have had a visitor ! A foolish child ! 
 Such a bore ! Fancy, she made me a scene and 
 wept, because, forsooth, she had lost her faith 
 in God ! Ha, ha, ha ! I wish people would keep 
 their religious doubts to themselves, and not worry 
 their friends with them ! ' 
 
 ' A most indefensible proceeding ! Shocking 
 bad taste indeed ! She should be glad she is 
 in the fashion, and not cry over it like a baby. 
 People are so foolish and inconsiderate ! ' 
 
 Olga returned home disconsolate. At dinner 
 Mme. Dobroff noticed how pale and sad she was 
 looking, and began to hope that her religious 
 training was bearing fruit. That evening, being 
 Saturday, they went to church. 
 
 Olga entered the house of God with palpitat- 
 ing heart. She intended to pray for faith, to 
 entreat Heaven to give her wisdom to overcome 
 this foolish atheism. But on the very thresh- 
 old her courage failed her. She had meant to 
 have said as she crossed herself, ' Lord, I believe! 
 Help Thou mine unbelief!' but she felt that she 
 could not honestly do so. 
 
 The church was gorgeous. It was a large, 
 vaulted building, profusely decorated, with marble 
 
2 20 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 columns and quantities of gilding. The floor, 
 however, was paved with granite flag-stones, and 
 the congregation stood. The walls were hung 
 with pictures of saints in golden frames, and 
 with a curious kind of moulded gilt shield over 
 them, only the heads and hands of the paintings 
 exposed, the rest of the picture being hammered 
 out on this shield, and the golden halo radiating 
 with Byzantine splendour in the shape of an 
 actual crown. The church was splendidly illumi- 
 nated with wax candles. The choir, which was 
 situated to the right of the eastern gate, was 
 composed of little boys in black cloaks, and a 
 few unshaven and unkempt-looking men, one of 
 whom possessed a magnificent bellowing bass 
 voice, indispensable in the conduct of the * ortho- 
 dox ' service. They sang superbly. The priests, 
 with their hair falling down on their shoulders 
 in imitation of the Saviour, intoned the prayers, 
 the choir chiming in with the response ' Gospodyi 
 po milluay ' — * Lord have mercy upon us ! ' Mean- 
 while the congregation kept coming in, and in- 
 dividual worshippers kept moving about. Many 
 joined in the responses, all crossed themselves at 
 every invocation of mercy, and invariably with 
 three fingers, to signify that they did so in the 
 name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. 
 
THE PROMISE OF SPRING 221 
 
 Occasionally the worshippers hustled each other, 
 in their endeavour to get near the picture of 
 some particular saint, in order to plant a lighted 
 taper in one of the infinite number of little 
 candlesticks attached to the frame. 
 
 Sometimes the throng was too great, the saint 
 to be propitiated could not be reached, and in 
 those cases the taper was passed on from hand 
 to hand, the petitioner who offered it anxiously- 
 watching its progress until it finally reached its 
 destination. These tapers are a great source of 
 revenue to the church. 
 
 But it happens, not infrequently, that mistakes 
 are made. On this evening a rough and simple 
 soldier, who had been following his taper with 
 his eyes, suddenly shouted out at the top of his 
 voice in the middle of the service, — 
 
 ' Hullo there ! To what fool are you giving 
 
 my taper ! I told you to offer it to Sergius, and 
 you have put it before that stupid old John ! ' 
 
 This explosion created some commotion amongst 
 a part of the congregation, and did not fail to 
 shock poor Olga, who was striving hard to pray. 
 But she could not. The glory had departed from 
 the temple. Like a terrible demon at her side 
 tempting her, Doubt seemed to whisper in her ear, — 
 
 'It is no use. What can prayers avail ? 
 P 
 
222 A RUSSIAN- WILD FLOWER 
 
 There is no God in Heaven to hear you ; you 
 are wasting your energy ; the whole thing is a 
 meaningless, foolish mummery!' 
 
 The service failed to appeal to her as of yore. 
 The splendid singing called forth no response. 
 The golden gates had been thrown open, the 
 priests in their robes of cloth of gold were 
 kneeling round the altar, while the smoke of 
 the incense ascended to the vaulted roof from 
 golden censers, and filled the church with its 
 heavy vapour. The congregation lay prostrate 
 in awe-stricken adoration. But no feeling of 
 reverence entered her heart. Her spirit would 
 not humble itself before the sanctuary. Those 
 priests were dolls ; they had ceased to be animate 
 beings in her eyes ; they had no more soul than 
 the robes they wore, and the air they breathed. 
 They were an accident, a fortuitous combination 
 of atoms. Disperse those atoms, let those bodies 
 be devoured by worms, or burnt to ashes by the 
 flames, their identity would be lost. Should one 
 of those priests be eaten up by a tiger, he would 
 become part of that tiger, the essence of his being 
 would be dissolved. 
 
 In a frantic effort to get rid of these thoughts 
 she had thrown herself upon her knees, covered 
 her face with her hands, and implored God, if 
 
THE PROMISE OF SPRING 223 
 
 He really existed, to have compassion upon her, 
 and to restore her faith. But in vain. She rose 
 up, cold and shivering, sick and pale. She felt 
 there was no hope. She must look the truth in 
 the face. We were but walking, breathing, sen- 
 tient automata, mere dust, and like the grass 
 that perisheth. The accidental result of a 
 curious phenomenon, the offspring of protoplasm 
 and evolution. There was no Heaven, no God, 
 no immortality ; there was nothing — nothing but 
 force and matter ! Horrible materialism ! 
 
 She looked round in her agony at her fellow 
 worshippers, who seemed so curiously oblivious 
 of the doubts which tortured her. She looked 
 at them to see whether she could detect upon 
 their faces any symptoms of the malady she was 
 herself suffering from. But no, they all seemed 
 perfectly at peace with themselves, devout and 
 pious. Suddenly she descried, standing at a 
 great distance, but in such a position as to enable 
 him to get a full view of her, the inscrutable, 
 mysterious form of Proudsorin. There he stood, 
 like Mephistopheles watching the ruin of Mar- 
 guerite, gloating over the mischief he had made ! 
 
 It is only fair to Proudsorin to say that no- 
 thing was farther from his thoughts. He had 
 been in the habit of sneaking into church un- 
 
224 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 observed and taking his stand in some obscure 
 corner where he could gaze upon the woman 
 who had taken such complete possession of his 
 imagination and his heart. He thoroughly de- 
 spised himself for it, and felt like a miserable, 
 contemptible thief as he stole in and out of the 
 House of God. Not for worlds would he have 
 spoken to her, and he always trembled lest she 
 should espy and recognise him, for to him there 
 seemed to be something mean and indelicate in 
 thus intruding upon her devotions. But he saw 
 her so rarely, and he wanted to see her so 
 much, and so he suffered himself to steal in, 
 and hated himself for doing so. Strong-minded 
 men are for ever afraid of appearing weak, but 
 for all that they are but human. 
 
 As soon as Proudsorin found himself discovered 
 he disappeared, and Olga wondered whether she 
 had really seen him, or whether his presence had 
 been a figment of her imagination. She continued 
 to go to church, but she never saw him there 
 again. She also gave up all attempts to pray, 
 for she found it useless. Poor Agraphia won- 
 dered what had come over her little dove, for 
 she could plainly see a change, and she rightly 
 attributed the alteration to the sinister influence 
 of that malignant student. But she had the 
 
THE PROMISE OF SPRING 225 
 
 calm, patient wisdom which comes of faith in 
 God, and knowledge of the troubles that wilful- 
 ness entails. She was not going to pit herself 
 against Providence. She remained Olga's friend 
 and guardian angel as long as she was permitted, 
 but she would not do anything to thwart her. 
 To have endeavoured to prevent Proudsorin's 
 meetings with Olga would have been a simple 
 matter. Agraphia needed but to have mentioned 
 to Mme. Dobroff or Prince Obolenski how Olga 
 spent her time at the riding-school, and the 
 riding - lessons would have been discontinued. 
 How could Proudsorin have found means to 
 meet Olga then ? But Agraphia had not lived in 
 vain, and knew, perhaps from experience, that 
 where there was a will there was a way ; she knew 
 Olga also, and moreover she knew the prince. 
 
 Of making mischief Agraphia was incapable ; 
 she dreaded tittle-tattling and all forms of tale- 
 bearing, and, like all Russians, she was essen- 
 tially a fatalist. If things were left to God 
 they would come right. To interfere violently 
 and energetically in the course of events, and 
 thus to fly in the face of Providence, seemed 
 impious and wicked. 
 
 Thus weeks and months sped on ; Olga con- 
 tinued her riding-lessons, and Proudsorin pursued 
 
226 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 his proselytising mission. Spring was at the 
 door, the Easter holidays were coming on, the 
 Russian army was concentrated on the Danube, 
 waiting to cross, and the Russian people were 
 more than usually hopeful. There was some- 
 thing in the air. The indescribable lightness 
 and life-giving freshness of spring seemed to 
 have invaded the political atmosphere as well 
 as the physical. People were on the tip-toe 
 of expectation. The cultured classes were full 
 of hope. Russia was going to war to liberate 
 Bulgaria ; it was illogical to suppose that the 
 emperor was going to shed the blood of his 
 subjects in order to obtain for Bulgaria the 
 liberty he refused his own people. Whatever 
 might be the outcome of the war, one thing 
 was considered certain — it would be the means 
 of ushering in a constitution for the Russian 
 people. These hopes have not been justified, 
 and he would be rash who would to-day pre- 
 dict the date of the opening of the first session 
 of the first Russian Parliament. 
 
 It was just at that time when all sorts of 
 rumours were in the air that Moscow society 
 was startled by the news that the daughter of 
 Prince Obolenski, who had been staying with 
 Mme. Dobrofif, had mysteriously disappeared 
 
THE PROMISE OF SPRING 227 
 
 with her nurse, and had left no trace behind 
 her ! The poHce were set in motion, Prince 
 Obolenski was introduced by the prefect to 
 at least twenty-four mysterious damsels of pre- 
 possessing appearance, and of ages varying from 
 sixteen to thirty, but was unable to identify his 
 daughter am.ongst them. Nor could Agraphia 
 be found. They had simply vanished into air. 
 
 Prince Obolenski was seriously annoyed. He at 
 last realised that the possession of a daughter w^as a 
 grave responsibility. As far as such a thing could be 
 predicated of him, he loved his daughter, and her loss 
 was a heavy blow, which he could not bear with the 
 same equanimity shown by his wife. But there was 
 nothing to be done. Olga could not be found. 
 
 At first society was very shocked and very 
 sympathetic, but the sympathy was of short 
 duration. Her disappearance was a nine days' 
 wonder, and soon forgotten in the bustle and 
 excitement of the war. By the time that every- 
 body was going to the country for the summer the 
 incident was no more talked about — it was closed. 
 Prince Obolenski was half-inclined to put on 
 mourning and say masses for Olga's soul, but 
 his wife dissuaded him, and assured him that 
 some day or other his daughter would return 
 to them like a bad shilling. 
 
PART III 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 S O K O L N I K I 
 
 To the north-east of Moscow there lies a large 
 pine-forest, studded with villas, where the indus- 
 trious Russian merchant spends his summer 
 months. The forest is Sokolniki, and, in the 
 days of the old Tzars of Muscovy, centuries ago, 
 it used to be a favourite place for the imperial 
 sport of hawking. Literally, Sokolniki means 
 ' The Falconers,' for here they lived. Later, the 
 great Tzar, Piotr Veliki, Peter the Great, spent 
 his tempestuous youth in riotous living on the 
 borders of what has to-day become a respectable 
 middle-class paradise. 
 
 Wherever there is civilisation, life is complicated 
 and beset with conventions. So civilised beings 
 may not live in Moscow during the summer. 
 Those people who do not possess that white 
 elephant, an estate, reside in the environs of the 
 town. In consequence of these summer migra- 
 tions, the villages in the vicinity of the larger 
 
 228 
 
SOKOLNIKI 229 
 
 towns of Russia flourish exceedingly. The 
 squah'd peasant hovel has been largely super- 
 seded by colonies of Italian villas and Swiss 
 cottages, uninhabitable in the winter, and called 
 by the generic name of ' datchia.' These 
 * datchias ' are more beautiful to the eye than 
 comfortable. The English practical mind has 
 long since discovered that two removals are as 
 bad as one fire. But as most Russian houses 
 are built of wood, their inhabitants are used to 
 fires, and are consequently not afraid of the two 
 annual movings to which custom subjects them. 
 
 The suburb of Sokolniki is the most salubrious, 
 though not the most picturesque, of the summer 
 resorts of Moscow. Hither consumptive ladies and 
 delicate children are sent to inhale the sweet frag- 
 rance of the stately pines. The forest is provided 
 with a fashionable centre called, ungeometrically, 
 the Round Point. On summer evenings a mili- 
 tary band here pours forth its dulcet strains, from 
 under a Chinese pagoda, and young men and 
 maidens dance to the brazen melody deep into 
 the giddy night, with the starry heavens above 
 them, and a detachment of stalwart gciis ifaiDics 
 for protection. Round the fringes of the forest, 
 and even in its very midst, datchias have sprung 
 up, and fashion has ruthlessly invaded the idyllic 
 
230 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 neighbourhood, and converted it into a theatre for 
 the barbaric display of purse-proud vulgarity. 
 
 Originally datchia-life was intended to be simple 
 and pastoral — an abortive attempt to obey Rous- 
 seau's teachings, and to return to a state of nature. 
 When living in a datchia the uncorrupted Russian 
 casts aside conventionality, and goes about in 
 nankeen, and even in his shirt sleeves. The wife 
 of his bosom discards her expensive bonnets 
 and wears no covermg to her head, while the 
 children play about without shoes or stockings. 
 Neighbours are neighbourly, young men fall in 
 love as simply as village swains, and young ladies 
 practice the arts and imitate the costume of vil- 
 lage coquettes. Thus, though somewhat insipid 
 perhaps, datchia life has its charms. 
 
 Sokolniki is blessed with a river — a small, 
 bashful, retiring river — which ripples modestly 
 along under the shadow of protecting trees, 
 midst sympathetic wild flowers and waving 
 grass. It seems as though the Yausa, on its way 
 to Moscow, where it resembles a filthy gutter, 
 was trj^ing its hardest to keep itself pure and 
 unspotted from the world. Before reaching Sokol- 
 niki, at the little village of Bogorodski, where 
 the taint of fashion has not spread, the Yausa 
 assumes almost magnificent proportions, gener- 
 
SOKOLXIKI 231 
 
 ously affording depth and opportunity for 
 bathers ; for Bogorodski is still the resort of 
 students and the poorer portions of Bohemian 
 mankind. But, as if astonished at its own 
 audacity, as soon it has passed this fortunate 
 villasre, the Yausa rushes into a forest and hides 
 itself in secluded groves and the intricate mazes 
 of a sylvan labyrinth. 
 
 Burns has sententiously observed that man's 
 ' inhumanity to man makes countless thousands 
 mourn. But what of man's inhumanity to 
 nature? The poor little Yausa, in its endeavour 
 to flee from the vulgar herd, has run into their 
 very arms. Enterprising builders have constructed 
 villas on its banks, and have made a bourgeois 
 paradise out of a wild and noble forest. 
 Neatly-sanded walks have replaced the old, 
 rugged footpaths, and lead to artificial flower 
 gardens and grotesque datchias, consisting prin- 
 cipally of verandahs. The gardens are peopled 
 with children ; on the verandahs sit prosperous 
 papas and mammas, uncles and aunts, sipping 
 weak, innocuous tea. The casual wayfarer thus 
 finds himself unexpectedly thrust upon the 
 privacy of some ruralising ruffian. 
 
 The wayfarer will probably pursue his journey 
 with downcast eyes until he crosses the rustic 
 
232 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 bridge, neatly upholstered with the bark of trees, 
 and looks upon the gentle river, with its water- 
 lilies and gnats. He hears the plash of oars, 
 mingled with the strains of a guitar and the 
 melodious sound of human voices. Presently a 
 large, punt-shaped boat glides into sight round 
 a curve in the river. The boat is covered with 
 leaves and wild flowers, and occupied by youths 
 and girls, the latter dressed like idealised peasants, 
 singing one of Tchaikovski's romances. 
 
 The wayfarer, if he be human, will throw them 
 an admiring glance as he passes on. 
 
 Had his business or his inclination taken him 
 hither on a certain day in the early part of the 
 June of 1877, he would have met two young men 
 gaily returning from their afternoon bath. 
 
 One of these was a well-proportioned, strapping 
 fellow, with a good-humoured, honest countenance, 
 curly chestnut hair, a crisp, brown beard and 
 laughing eyes. His name was Vassilieff. His 
 companion was short, thin, pale and delicate. A 
 sickly little beard did not improve his appearance. 
 This was Goloobotchkin. He was a genius, in 
 whom lay dormant and undeveloped many great 
 capabilities. So, at least, said his friends. His 
 enemies maintained spitefully that the only 
 capacity he had shown as yet was one for liquor. 
 
SOKOLNIKI 233 
 
 and that this was enormous. But Goloobotchkin 
 did not allow such venomous slanders to trouble 
 his peace of mind. Pie was at present studying 
 music and trying to master the double bass. 
 Little Goloobotchkin was always doing something 
 ambitious. The bath had taken a considerable 
 portion of his vital energy out of him, and the 
 exquisitely high-strung, incipient genius was 
 somewhat limp. 
 
 ' I tell you, she was beautiful/ he said, in languid 
 accents. ^Sie war scJmiund ivtmderbar ! Imagine, 
 Vassilieff, a woman of eighteen summers, with a 
 tall and graceful figure, with lustrous, large, black 
 eyes and lovely black hair, and such a mouth ! 
 Ah ! she was beautiful ! ' 
 
 ' You are too sentimental, Goloobotchkin ; you 
 are always in love with somebody. There are 
 plenty of girls who would answer your description. 
 Every girl must be eighteen at some tim.e or other, 
 and some of them never grow older. Black hair 
 and graceful figures are as plentiful as black- 
 berries.' 
 
 * You have no imagination, no sensibility ; you 
 are a mere brute ! Why can't you worship beauty 
 as I do? Make the beautiful the religion of 
 your life, and you will become a happier and a 
 nobler man.' 
 
234 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Vassilieff eyed his companion mockingly. 
 
 ' It does not seem to be a very filling religion, 
 this worship of beauty, to judge by the appearance 
 of its votaries.' 
 
 ' No devotee is fat. I am too zealous and too 
 nervous to be fat. You are a comfortable man. 
 You are blest with a calm, cold temperament. 
 Probably you will end your days as a grandfather, 
 surrounded by sycophantic grandchildren, on 
 whom you will lavish your affection and your 
 sweetmeats, and attended by a toothless, brainless 
 old wife, loving and greasy, swimming in her 
 ow^n fat, and melting at every word you say. 
 No religion could possibly make you thin. The 
 more you fasted the fatter you would get, for your 
 appetite is omnivorous and you have a cast-iron 
 digestion. Nothing could ruin it, not even seed- 
 oil.' 
 
 ' Stop there ; we will draw the line at that' 
 
 * So be it, then. Let us admit, for the sake of 
 argument, that even your stupendous stomach 
 has its limitations. But do not run away with 
 the idea that refinement and an artistic taste must 
 needs lead to biliousness and indigestion. On 
 the contrary, they ennoble and make one dis- 
 criminate. If you would but worship at the shrine 
 of art, you would be happier, grander, wiser — more 
 
SOKOLNIKI 235 
 
 glorious and complete. Oh ! let me entreat you 
 to worship the beautiful ! ' 
 
 ' But I do so. I love music, I can enjoy poetry, 
 I even like the Italian Opera — really, honestly 
 like it ! What more do you want ? ' 
 
 ' Bah ! You are a Goth, a Vandal ! You have 
 no artistic impulses, no delicacy of feeling. You 
 are a coarse, brutal, intellectual debauchee. You 
 have so bemused your head vv'ith business and 
 ideas, and political economy, and all such unprofit- 
 able bestiality that you have no soul left, there is 
 no room in your bosom for the exalted ecstasies 
 of refined epicureanism.' 
 
 * Well, what do you want me to do ? ' asked 
 Vassilieff, laughing. 
 
 ' I want you to be sympathetic. I want you 
 to fall in love with the beauty that I have dis- 
 covered. I want you to be enraptured with her, 
 to go mad with admiration of her, to live, to be 
 a man — to feel exquisitely, in short.' 
 
 Vassilieff laughed still more. 
 
 ' Would not that be unfortunate ? Might it not 
 lead to jealousy, and a quarrel between us? 
 Surely that would be a pity. Is not friendship 
 worth more than a pair of black eyes ? ' 
 
 ' Pooh ! / fear you as a rival ? How absurd ! 
 And how odiously practical ! It is this that I 
 
236 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 complain of in you. You never seem able to 
 throw the bridle of your reason loose round the 
 neck of your fancy, and to allow it to carry you 
 where it will. You are for ever impiously peering 
 into the future, weighing the consequences of your 
 actions, the moral right and wrong. I am afraid I 
 shall never be able to make anything of you. I 
 shall have to give you up in despair ! ' 
 
 Vassilieff laughed more cheerily than ever. 
 
 ' Well, we must unearth this Bogorodski beauty 
 of yours, and find out all about her. But beware 
 lest I carry her off under your very nose — if she 
 is worth the trouble, that is. For I am tired of 
 your discoveries. If she is like the ten thousand 
 others in whom you have detected beauty, I shall 
 be disgusted. This is the last time. It is strange 
 that you, who make such pretensions to refinement 
 and artistic feeling should have so perverted a 
 taste ! ' 
 
 ' It is you, my friend, whose taste is barbaric 
 and uneducated. I can discover beauties which 
 your coarse eyes cannot even see. But how can 
 a great big elephant like you be expected to 
 admire the delicate flowers a butterfly delights in ? ' 
 
 ' You a butterfly ! You are more like a clumsy 
 moth, perpetually burning its wings at greasy 
 candles ! ' 
 
SOKOLNIKI 237 
 
 Goloobotchkin hung his head dejectedly. 
 
 'Well, and if I have been unfortunate, I have 
 at least preserved the freshness of my heart 
 through all my troubles, and I have felt, Vassilieff, 
 and suffered. I have felt deeply!' 
 
 * You have felt hungry at dinner-time, especially 
 when there was no dinner. You have suffered 
 in the morning for nocturnal dissipations, and 
 you have sometimes felt deeply into your pockets 
 to find that you abhorred a vacuum as much as 
 nature. Oh ! Goloobotchkin, you are an incor- 
 rigible humbug ! ' 
 
 * Well, I have felt a great many things in my 
 time, but to-day I feel like spending the evening 
 in Petrofifski Park, and hearing gipsies sing at 
 Strelna.' 
 
 ' That is an excellent and sensible feeling, most 
 refined and exquisite devotee of the beautiful, and 
 we will presently proceed to indulge it.' With 
 these words they entered Vassilieff's datchia. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 VASSILIEFF 
 
 Platon Ivanovitch Vassilieff was a wealthy 
 merchant and manufacturer, a millionaire in roubles, 
 and an only son whose father and mother were 
 both dead. He was a lonely orphan with only one 
 living relative, an old aunt, who worshipped him, 
 and whom he used piously to visit from time to 
 time. She was a simple-minded, old-fashioned 
 lady, who held foreign ways and manners in 
 supreme contempt, and lived a frugal, unpretentious 
 life, notwithstanding her great wealth. Vassilieff 
 himself enjoyed an income from his factory and 
 business, beyond what his father had amassed, of 
 a clear hundred thousand roubles, or about ten 
 thousand pounds, a year. 
 
 Nobody will therefore have difficulty in believing 
 that Vassilieff was extremely popular. He was 
 indeed universally beloved and esteemed by both 
 sexes. Mammas who had marriageable daughters 
 looked upon him with the fond and longing eyes 
 of prospective mothers-in-law. Young men who 
 had a taste for pleasure and preferred to indulge 
 23S 
 
VASSILIEFF 239 
 
 it at other people's expense, held him in sincere 
 and affectionate regard. And serious men of 
 business, and those parasitic individuals who are 
 so indispensable in the commercial world — the men 
 who live on schemes and projects — esteemed and 
 reverenced him. But Vassilieff was a very clear- 
 headed young man of twenty-five or so, who kept 
 cool, and was not easily made a fool of. And yet 
 he was not happy 
 
 He had received an exceptional education. His 
 father had been a man of alarmingly unsettled 
 principles and views — almost a Liberal, in fact, 
 and an advocate of progress and all that kind 
 of nonsense. This father had frequently as- 
 tounded his friends and relations by taking 
 occasional trips abroad, and had even learned 
 the German language. But he had always 
 remained a very thorough and patriotic Russian, 
 and this patriotic feeling had given rise to an 
 internal mental conflict, which was the reason 
 why he was so unsettled in his views. For he 
 could never quite make up his mind whether 
 to subscribe to all the new ideas, and adopt in 
 bulk, as it were, all the new-fangled foreign 
 notions of the day, or whether to remain true 
 to the time-honoured traditions and usages of 
 his forefathers, and abide by the result. This 
 
240 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 want of clearness and precision was due to a 
 defective education ; for he had not really been 
 educated at all, but had had to educate him- 
 self. He had therefore determined that his son 
 should not be placed at the same disadvantage, 
 and so he informed his wife that Platosha should 
 become a scholar. His fat and meek-minded 
 spouse gently acquiesced, and so Platosha be- 
 came, in very fact, a scholar. But the old man 
 was practical even in the education of his son. 
 All the artful devices those foreigners had in- 
 vented Platosha was to have at his fingers' ends, 
 and especially the tricks of those devils, the 
 English, who were the cleverest fellows in the 
 world. But Latin and Greek, philosophy and 
 literature, attracted Ivan Pafnootitch but little. 
 All that was conceited nonsense, unprofitable 
 and vain, only calculated to put foolish ideas 
 into the heads of young fellows, and spoil them 
 for business. He w^anted his son to grow up 
 a healthy, honest, God-fearing Russian citizen, 
 and not a vaporous dreamer. Consequently he 
 was first sent to a German commercial school, 
 and then put into an English engineer's work- 
 shop; all this on the advice of certain German 
 and English commercial friends. By way of com- 
 pleting the work thus commenced, he was allowed 
 
VASSILIEFF 241 
 
 to ' study ' for six months in Paris. After such a 
 curriculum Platosha returned to Moscow, with a 
 confused conglomeration of ideas, and hopelessly- 
 unfitted for his father's business. But this old 
 Ivan Pafnootitch did not mind. He himself 
 taught him his business mysteries. Still, Platon 
 had learned enough to discover speedily that his 
 father's methods were old-fashioned and clumsy, 
 and with the impetuosity of youth was for re- 
 forming them altogether. Even for this his 
 parent was prepared. He secretly chuckled with 
 pride at the learning of his son, but was too 
 cautious and too crafty to allow him any scope. 
 
 ' Let him see how the old machine works,' he 
 would say. ' Let the young greenhorn gain ex- 
 perience ! When I am dead and gone he can 
 try his new-fangled dodges, and make a fool of 
 himself as much as he likes.' 
 
 This may strike some as an illogical attitude 
 to adopt ; nevertheless, there was a good deal of 
 wisdom in it ; besides, do not all fathers treat 
 their sons after the same manner? 
 
 When Platon returned from abroad he found 
 his mother dead and gone. His father had felt 
 her loss deeply. Platon had now grown a tall, 
 manly, well-behaved young fellow, and old Ivan 
 Pafnootitch had some difficulty in concealing the 
 
242 A JiUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 secret pleasure and satisfaction he gave him. 
 But it would never do to spoil the boy. Yet 
 he felt that his time was coming, that he would 
 not survive his spouse many years, and that he 
 could trust his son to perpetuate the traditions 
 of his business with dignity and honour. 
 
 * You see,' he would say to his cronies, * I liave 
 grown my youngster, licked my cub into shape, 
 and it is time to lay this parcel of old bones 
 by the side of my baba (old woman), and join 
 her in Abraham's bosom — God be merciful ! ' and 
 he would cross himself devoutly. 
 
 * God give you grace, Ivan Pafnootitch ! ' they 
 would invariably reply. 'You have many years 
 of Hfe before you yet. Mark our words, you will 
 see us through, and under the turf yet. You will 
 marry again, and grow another grenadier like this 
 one, and you will live to dance at your grand- 
 daughters' weddings. Get out, Ivan Pafnootitch, 
 you are not going to die yet awhile.' 
 
 But Ivan Pafnootitch would only stroke his 
 venerable beard and shake his head. 
 
 * Ah ! well ! ' he would say. ' As God decrees ! 
 As it pleases Him, so will it be ! ' 
 
 Nevertheless, Ivan Pafnootitch did not grow 
 younger and did not marry again. He grew 
 more pious and thoughtful from day to day, and 
 
VASSILIEFF 243 
 
 the only thing he desired before his death was to 
 see his son married. Indeed, this was the great 
 object of his heart. He had himself married late in 
 life, and had always regretted it ; but he was much 
 too prudent to press the question with his son. 
 
 Platon was, in fact, sowing his wild oats just 
 then, and showed but little inclination towards 
 matrimony. 
 
 During his stay in foreign capitals he had been 
 very much his own master, and though not too 
 liberally furnished with filthy lucre by his wise 
 parent, he had had enough to enjoy himself 
 moderately. Of course he had had to work 
 fairly hard, and there had not been too much 
 time for dissipation. He had consequently been 
 as steady as could reasonably be expected. But 
 now things were altered. Platon Ivanovitch had 
 attained to man's estate, and his father prudently 
 allowed him more money. Fitted out for life's 
 journey with simple views and honest principles, 
 Platon had, indeed, never regarded pleasure as the 
 only legitimate object of his existence, neverthe- 
 less he had tasted the poisoned chalice, but had 
 not drained it deeply enough to discover its bitter 
 flavour. Yet some people thought Ivan Pafnootitch 
 was too indulgent a father, and made it their 
 business to acquaint him with some of Platon's 
 
244 A J^USSIAJV WILD FLOWER 
 
 little indiscretions. But the good old man turned 
 a deaf ear to these idle tales. He knew perfectly 
 well that his son was no saint ; he did not expect 
 him to be one, but he kept him within what he 
 considered reasonable bounds, and did not put his 
 paternal authority to too severe a strain, lest it 
 should suddenly snap and be set aside. 
 
 'Well, well,' he would say to the mischievous 
 tale-bearers, 'he is rather frisky, but a young 
 horse, if it has any spirit, is bound to kick a bit 
 before it gets used to the shafts. He will quiet 
 down presently. Young blood, young blood will 
 have its fling. Better now than later. Presently 
 he will marry and settle down, and be as quiet as 
 a cab-horse.' 
 
 There was much common-sense in Ivan Pafnoo- 
 titch's view, but time went on and Platon did not 
 settle down and marry. The truth is, Platon had 
 had glimpses of divine and glorious beings in Paris 
 and London who had spoilt him for the hum- 
 drum society of the homely, good-natured, fat and 
 vacuous daughters of the Moscow merchants. In 
 the company of cultured young men Platon found 
 relaxation from his work, and enjoyed himself after 
 the manner of his kind. 
 
 At last his indulgent old father died and left 
 Platon an orphan. Platon deeply loved and 
 
VASSILIEFF 245 
 
 revered his father, and felt his loss keenly, the 
 more so as he had not been able to gratify 
 that parent's dearest wish and marry some 
 stolid millionaire's stolid daughter. But being 
 thus suddenly left alone aroused him to his 
 responsibilities. He felt that life was not a 
 thing to play with, but involved serious and 
 solemn duties. He examined his past, and 
 found it wanting. Everyone, at some time or 
 other of his life, asks himself whether there is 
 not a reason for his own entity, whether he 
 may not have a mission to fulfil or special 
 duties to perform, whether he was not destined 
 to be of use. Conscience whispers in his ear, 
 ' You are an ego, you possess an interior mysteri- 
 ous being, to be developed and educated. Be- 
 ware how you treat it, lest you defile the holy 
 of holies in your nature ! You have talents, 
 you have power, you have potentialities. Beware 
 how you use them ! They must have been 
 given you for some purpose. Are you devoting 
 them to that purpose ? ' With some this awaken- 
 ing of the slumbering conscience is less acutely 
 felt than with others ; to some it comes earlier, 
 to others later ; but they must be perverted in- 
 deed to whom it never comes at all. 
 
 When Platen's time came to turn from the 
 
246 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 husks of a life of pleasure, and to take the 
 world seriously, he suddenly discovered that his 
 mental equipment was deficient. So he started 
 once more on his travels to complete his 
 education. He studied the relations of capital 
 and labour, he mastered the details of political 
 economy, he made himself acquainted with the 
 philosophies and social ethics of this our day, 
 and he became weary and heart-sick. There 
 was no hope in the modern creeds, in the evolu- 
 tion which leadeth to destruction, in the socialism 
 which would fix and crystallise society for ever. 
 The world refused to recognise the existence of 
 anything that could not be weighed or measured, 
 seen or felt, dissected or chemically analysed. 
 But Platon could not simply say to himself, 
 ' I have never seen God, therefore there is no 
 God.' There was something in him which would 
 not suffer him thus to thrust aside a question 
 of such vital importance. Besides, history did 
 not bear out the modern view. In past ages 
 mankind had always believed in something. 
 Through all the variations of divergent creeds, 
 the central idea of a Divine Creator, and of 
 duty to Him, could be traced. It was a funda- 
 mental idea at the root of human life. Where 
 there is smoke, there must be fire. Platon studied 
 
VASSILIEFF 247 
 
 philosophy. He worked his way through Spin- 
 oza, Kant, Hegel and Swedenborg, and returned 
 to his original simplicity of mind. He saw that 
 the salvation of mankind was not to be worked 
 out by theorising, and resolved honestly and 
 simply to do his duty. He therefore returned 
 home to set about minding his own business 
 with a will. He decided that he would do more 
 good by leading a life of usefulness, than by 
 trying to understand matters that were too 
 high for him. 
 
 So he returned to Moscow, a simple-minded, 
 God-fearing Russian, resolved to do his duty, 
 and to lead the life of a good and useful citizen. 
 But a good citizen should be a patriarch and 
 rear up for his country healthy children, to be- 
 come honest men and women, and good subjects. 
 Yet Platon did not marry. But he worked hard 
 at his business and studied in his library, where 
 Shakespeare and Goethe, Byron and Moliere, 
 found a place with Stuart Mill and Herbert 
 Spencer, and many a book of philosophy and 
 science. 
 
 But if Platon took a more serious view of 
 life, it is to be feared that he did not practise 
 the austerity which he preached to himself 
 For his was a large-hearted, expansive Russian 
 
248 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 nature, and he loved to entertain his friends, 
 and was genial and hospitable. 
 
 Nevertheless he was growing tired of his 
 bachelorhood, and though he always had friends 
 staying with him, and led a very active life, 
 he would occasionally feel a vague yearning 
 for domesticity and would even reproach him- 
 self for not having as yet fallen in love. 
 
 He was always telling his aunt that he was 
 preparing himself for marriage. But he was 
 beginning rather to lose hope of ever meeting 
 that other half of himself, that ideal for which 
 he was in search. Still cynicism had not yet 
 eaten its way into his heart, and he was a 
 remarkably fresh, healthy and honest young man, 
 not yet ruined by pernicious freedom. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 S T R E L X A 
 
 On the verandah of Vassilieffs datchia sat a 
 third young man awaiting the two we have 
 just described. This was Alyesha, a plutocratic 
 dandy who had dropped in to dinner, and was 
 going to be one of the party that evening. 
 
 Petroffski Park is the Bois de Boulogne of 
 Moscow ; here the lioness and the hyena fiercely 
 struggle for their prey, and the hyena manages 
 to thrive and prosper, notwithstanding the jealous 
 rivalry and active competition of the nobler 
 animal. 
 
 The park is close to the summer camp of 
 
 the garrison, which ensures a goodly supply of 
 
 officers. Prettily-laid-out carriage-drives abound, 
 
 and in the evening the plutocracy turn out with 
 
 their womenkind in silks and satins, and fearfully 
 
 and wonderfully made bonnets. The promcnaders 
 
 may be broadly divided into two categories — those 
 
 who delight in being seen, and those who go to 
 
 see — the quizzed and the quizzing. 
 
 Numerous cafes chantants, El Dorados, Chateaux 
 249 
 
250 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 de Fleurs, etc., line the drives, but it was not 
 for such places that Platon and his friends were 
 bound. They were going to Strelna, to hear 
 the gipsies sing. But they first drove through 
 the park to exchange salutations with their 
 friends and to survey the motley crowd. 
 
 There were generals and officials with their 
 wives, looking sedate and respectable. There 
 were a few fashionable beauties, birds of passage, 
 who had taken Moscow on their way from one 
 country place to another. There were the re- 
 presentatives of the foreign colony, shopkeepers 
 principally, in elegant English carriages, with 
 horses harnessed in the English fashion, and 
 with liveried, not Russian, coachmen. Among 
 these the German element predominated. They 
 seemed to look down upon the inferior Russian 
 clay with haughty contempt. Who knows for 
 what reasons they have left their native climes? 
 Perhaps their pride was due to their altered cir- 
 cumstances and their unaccustomed respectability. 
 But by far the most amusing objects were the 
 Russian merchants of minor magnitude, with their 
 gorgeously-attired spouses in white satin bonnets 
 with pink roses, and in bright green dresses. 
 They themselves wore green gloves and wonder- 
 ful ties. The typical Russian merchant's pride 
 
STRELNA 251 
 
 is to have the fattest horses, the fattest coach- 
 nian, and the fattest wife in the world, he him- 
 self being often the fattest of all. Then there 
 were the parasitic ladies from Paris and Vienna, 
 in smart victorias, the most tastefully and cer- 
 tainly the most quietly dressed. 
 
 The curious observer would have found much 
 to entertain him. He would have seen the fat 
 and clumsy Russian paying court to some elegant 
 Frenchwoman with the grace of a Polar bear. 
 He would have seen the staid, respectable pater- 
 familias, solemn and decorous with his family, 
 and longing to get away from it ; the angry 
 mamma, like an avenging Nemesis, discovering her 
 son in company of which he was ashamed, who 
 was vainly pretending not to see her, and look- 
 ing miserable and awkward. He would have 
 seen dignity and impudence side by side, vulgarity 
 and refinement, life both high and low; and 
 amidst all this he would have heard the crash 
 of the trumpets and the roll of the drums of 
 the inevitable military band, and he would 
 have sniffed a vaguely festive atmosphere per- 
 fumed with cigars and patchouli, and tempered 
 by dust. Behind the cafes cJiantants he would 
 have heard the cracking of fireworks, occasionally 
 followed by the ascent of sparks, rockets, Roman 
 
252 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 candles and Catherine's wheels, and he would 
 have contrasted all this with the majestic trees, 
 sombre and contemptuous, which seemed to frown 
 scornfully upon the follies and frippery of the 
 little human creatures beneath them. 
 
 Supposing he had turned away in disgust from 
 the artificial scene, and sought refuge from the 
 vulgar throng in the bushes close at hand, he 
 would have been assailed by old women begging 
 him to patronise their tea-table, and behind 
 these skirmishers he would have seen rows of 
 tables covered with neat tablecloths, at which 
 simple folk were enjoying their harmless tea in 
 the cool of the evening. 
 
 Having driven round the park to see who was 
 there Platon and his friends turned into the 
 highroad again, and passing the quaint imperial 
 chateau where Napoleon stayed while Moscow 
 was burning, they drove straight to ' Strelna,' the 
 Ultima Thule of the dissipated Muscovite. 
 
 * Strelna ' is a huge restaurant frequented by 
 gipsies. The public dining-saloon has at its back 
 a stage where variety entertainments are given, 
 but during the summer tables are laid on the 
 enormous verandah, and the artistes and gipsies 
 come and sing and dance to their patrons in 
 their very midst. After each *turn' the hat is 
 
STRELNA 253 
 
 sent round, and the sums collected are always 
 considerable. 
 
 On alighting from their carriage the happy 
 trio mounted the spacious verandah and languidly 
 inspected the company to see whether they could 
 find a friend amongst them. Presently Goloo- 
 botchkin's eye alighted on a solitary, smart-look- 
 ing gentleman, with violet eyes and brown 
 whiskers. The three at once advanced towards 
 him, and joyful greetings were interchanged. It 
 was our friend Herr Schultze, the ubiquitous. 
 Vassilieff scarcely knew him, Goloobotchkin did 
 so but slightly, and to Alyesha he was a celebrity, 
 merely a personage. But notwithstanding their 
 very slight acquaintance, such is the charming ex- 
 pansiveness of Russian youth, that, being solitary, 
 he was instantly invited to join their party. 
 
 A private room was taken, a tabor of gipsies 
 engaged, and a pleasant supper ordered. Presently 
 the champagne corks began to fly, and that flow 
 of soul commenced which so rarely attends the 
 more sober feasts of reason. 
 
 The band of gipsies or tabor of Tsiganes con- 
 sisted of three men and about half-a-dozen 
 women. 
 
 They are the favourite entertainers of \\\<^ jcujicsse 
 
 don'e of Russia, and they have worked sad havoc 
 
 R 
 
254 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 amongst them. Whether they are of Persian 
 origin, like the Parsees, whether they are de- 
 scendants of some Indian tribe, or whether they 
 can claim Ishmael for their progenitor, they will 
 probably continue to puzzle us for all time. 
 There, at any rate, they are very Persian in type, 
 and possessing a beautiful oriental national 
 costume, resembling that of the Armenians. 
 Their women have strangely weird but melodi- 
 ous voices and lustrous eyes, and have a tem- 
 perament which is a strange mixture of cold 
 calculation and wild impetuosity. Though they 
 lead a life of adventure and publicity, they have 
 the purest reputation. Neither love nor money 
 will lead them to their ruin, and the ardent 
 youth who falls a victim to their blandishments 
 must either marry them or stifle his passion. 
 And to marry a gipsy is an expensive amuse- 
 ment, for she must be purchased from her tabor 
 before her family will let her go. 
 
 A story is told of a Russian prince who thought 
 he would be one too many for the gipsies. He 
 had fallen desperately in love with one of these 
 houris, and, finding all other means of no avail, 
 promised to marry her, and to pay her tabor a 
 thousand pounds for the privilege. He arranged 
 that the girl should be brought to the garden 
 
STRELNA 255 
 
 gate of his palace upon a certain night by her 
 brother, when the sum promised should be paid 
 over to him in exchange for the charming 
 Tziganka. At the appointed hour she was duly 
 delivered, but the brother, instead of a thousand 
 pounds, received a tip of ten shillings, and was 
 sent about his business. But even when in his 
 own clutches, and, to speak in the language of 
 melodrama, 'on board the lugger,' the girl was 
 not his. The prince had to marry her before 
 she would listen to him, and so the Tziganka 
 whom the prince thought to dupe and ruin 
 became a great princess. 
 
 After supper, Platon and his companions threw 
 themselves back on their comfortable chairs, lighted 
 their cigarettes, and prepared to enjoy the gipsy 
 entertainment with oriental indolence. 
 
 One of the men played a stringed instrument 
 not unlike a mandoline, and the youngest and 
 prettiest of the Tzigankas sang the following 
 doggerels to a wild, weird tune : — 
 
 ' The moon in tlie clouds has gone hiding, 
 No more in the sky will it roll, 
 Then give me your hand, let me press it 
 Quite close to my heart, oh I my soul I 
 
 What to us is the world and its follies ? 
 What care we for friend or for foe .? 
 So long as our hearts are but burning 
 With a mutual, passionate glow ? ' 
 
256 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 At the end of each verse the whole band joined 
 in a wild, monotonous chorus of ' Ta lay, la la lay, 
 la la lay lie, tra la la la la, la la lay,' and com- 
 menced beating their tambourines, while the 
 singer performed a curious quivering dance, in 
 which she moved every muscle in her body, her 
 shoulders, arms and head, and kept circling 
 gracefully within an extraordinarily small and 
 circumscribed space, while she appeared to 
 be shivering all over. In this quaint dance 
 she was joined by the mandoline player, who 
 kept turning round like an automaton, and 
 continually bobbing down on the floor. Occa- 
 sionally the dancers gave a shrill scream of 
 delight as they waved their arms and coloured 
 'kerchiefs. 
 
 Goloobotchkin, who had been imbibing deeply 
 and worshipping the true and the beautiful with 
 his usual devotion, exclaimed rapturously, — 
 
 ' Is she not divine ! Oh ! Platosha ! She is 
 beautiful ! ' 
 
 Everybody laughed. People always laughed 
 at whatever Goloobotchkin said. 
 
 * Is she more lovely than the Bogorodski 
 beauty?' Platon inquired. 
 
 * How can you compare the two ? It is like 
 comparing Heine with Goethe, or Chopin with 
 
STRELNA 2 SI 
 
 Beethoven — both are exquisite of their kind. 
 You will never be an artist.' 
 
 The gipsies, having pledged their hosts in 
 champagne, now sang another of their wild and 
 passionate airs. 
 
 ' I love you truly. Oh ! believe me 
 When a Tziganka plights her word 
 She gives up all she values dearly, 
 Her friends, her life, to serve her lord ! 
 
 Rye-bread her dinner and her supper, 
 A glowing kiss for all her pains ; 
 Give her your love — that she will treasure, 
 For gipsy blood boils in her veins !' 
 
 The same sort of dance and chorus followed 
 each verse of this song also. 
 
 * What devotion ! ' cried Goloobotchkin, pathetic- 
 ally. 
 
 'Yes, but I am afraid Tzigankas have sadly 
 deteriorated since the happy days when that 
 song was new,' Alyesha cynically remarked. 
 
 The gipsies now sat down and proceeded to 
 ogle, and flirt and talk nonsense, as such people do. 
 
 ' Who is this Bogorodski beauty of yours ? ' 
 Herr Schultze asked slyly. 
 
 ' Oh ! She is a new discovery of Goloo- 
 botchkin's. We have not seen her yet. With 
 him the last woman he sees is always more 
 beautiful than all the others,' Platon replied. 
 
258 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 'You do not understand, coarse-grained Philis- 
 tine,' said Goloobotchkin, 'that to the artistic 
 temperament faithfulness is as impossible as bad 
 taste. Life is an apprenticeship, a perpetual 
 education. Every new fancy, every fresh experi- 
 ence, helps it on ; it is but another step in our 
 Wilhelm Meister-like progress from the cradle 
 to the grave.' 
 
 ' He must have been reading Browning ! ' 
 Platon exclaimed. 
 
 * I know him not. I hate your prudish, un- 
 sympathetic English. I am a Hegelian. I 
 drink to the true and the beautiful. Long life 
 to you, my lovely goddess. Oh ! charming 
 Tziganka ! how can you compare her, Platon, 
 to that stupid Fifine at the Fair of your un- 
 intelligible Browning ? ' 
 
 The gipsy took the proffered wine-glass, and, 
 still holding it in her hand, swept him a courtesy, 
 and then drained it at a draught. 
 
 'That is something like,' cried Herr Schultze. 
 ' Will you have one with me ? ' 
 
 And she did, and would have drunk them 
 all under the table if they had put her to the 
 test. 
 
 Herr Schultze, whose curiosity had apparently 
 been excited, returned to the subject of the 
 
STRELNA 259 
 
 Bogorodski beauty and again tried to obtain 
 some particulars of her. 
 
 Goloobotchkin described her with his usual 
 exaggeration, and concluded by saying, — 
 
 ' She is superb, magnificent, and haughty 
 withal, and she lives at Bogorodski. We are 
 going to unearth her. She seems to associate 
 with unkempt men who look like Nihilist 
 students, but she is too beautiful to be a 
 Nihilist herself. She does not wear spectacles, 
 she has not got her hair cropped short, and 
 she dresses like an angel — not a wealthy angel.' 
 
 ' What were the students like ? ' 
 
 ' One of them was a typical Lucifer — a robber- 
 captain in the shabby dress of the nineteenth 
 century, a villain, a tragedy-king, a noble, 
 impecunious, grand-souled, disagreeable-looking 
 man, with terrible, piercing, grey eyes, heavy, 
 dark eyebrows, and a vicious beard.' 
 
 * I wonder whether they are friends of mine ? ' 
 said Herr Schultze, reflectively. ' In that case 
 I could introduce you.' 
 
 ' That would be splendid ! ' Goloobotchkin ex- 
 claimed joyfully. 
 
 ' But how are we to find out ? It is no use 
 introducing you to the wrong people, is it ? ' 
 
 * No,' Platon replied ; ' that would be an un- 
 
26o A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 fortunate thing. Suppose you come and dine 
 with us to-morrow at my datchia. We can then 
 make a pilgrimage to Bogorodski, and if the 
 modern Venus ventures out and proves to be 
 indeed a friend of yours, you could introduce 
 us. You would really be doing a charity, for 
 Goloobotchkin will give me no rest until I 
 have got to know her.' 
 
 Herr Schultze accepted the invitation with 
 alacrity, and the party broke up. 
 
 * Strange man that Schultze,' said Platon. 
 ' He seems to know everybody, and everybody's 
 business seems to be his. I wonder why he is 
 so eager to introduce us to these people ? ' 
 
 ' It is you who are a strange being, always 
 bothering your head about things that have 
 nothing to do with you. What does it matter? 
 If he introduces us, that is all we want. What 
 his object may be is not our business; we need 
 only congratulate ourselves upon the fact that 
 there is so much harmony between our object 
 and his.' Goloobotchkin was a philosopher. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 RUN TO EARTH 
 
 The next day Platon felt more than usually 
 disgusted with himself and his empty, soulless 
 life. He was subject to these fits of depres- 
 sion and moral nausea. His existence, and 
 the round of dissipation and so-called pleasure 
 which it entailed, and from which he seemed 
 as little able to escape as a squirrel from its 
 cage, would on these occasions appear brutish, 
 foolish and even disgraceful. These attacks 
 had lately become more frequent, more acute 
 and of longer duration, than formerly, and the 
 reaction, when it came, did not seem to bring 
 the relief it did of yore. But his attack to-day 
 was the most violent he had as yet experienced, 
 and almost amounted to remorse. He was 
 consequently ill-tempered and snappish at his 
 office, contrary to his custom, and so much 
 was this the case, that his business acquaint- 
 ances noticed it and wondered whether the 
 house of Vassilieff was feeling the prevalent 
 
 depression in trade, whether bankruptcy was 
 
 261 
 
262 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 staring it in the face, or whether Vassilieff 
 himself had allowed his extravagances to lead 
 him to the verge of ruin. When Platon 
 returned home and stepped on the verandah 
 of his datchia he found Goloobotchkin reclin- 
 ing lazily upon a sofa, reading Heine's Buck 
 der Lieder. He inwardly cursed him. Goloo- 
 botchkin took in the state of his friend's mind 
 with a corner of his eye, for he had the in- 
 stincts of a parasite and an inborn tact. He 
 knew in a moment that his patron was suffer- 
 ing from one of his ' serious ' attacks which, 
 although transient, had to be striven against 
 manfully, for they might at any time take 
 an alarming turn and involve the utter collapse 
 of his own happy days and the idle life which 
 suited him so well. 
 
 Goloobotchkin was one of those individuals 
 who reap where others have sown, and who 
 have solved the difficult problem of living on 
 nothing. That at least was his income. 
 People who did not know his ability nor 
 fathom the depth of his character were puzzled 
 to account for his continued existence. Not- 
 withstanding his boastfully doing nothing, his 
 possessing nothing, he nevertheless wanted no- 
 thing, but lived and starved not, and lived 
 
RUN TO EARTH 263 
 
 sumptuously, too, on the fat of the land. Yet, 
 although he had generally contrived to enjoy 
 the fruits of other men's labours, there had 
 nevertheless been periods in his chequered career 
 which could only be described as critical periods, 
 when life had looked desolate and cheerless and 
 starvation had seemed so near that he had actu- 
 ally contemplated working for his living ; but a 
 kind fate had always somehow or other rescued 
 him at the eleventh hour and spared him the 
 indignity. Some good Samaritan had invari- 
 ably turned up in the very nick of time. The 
 Russians are a hospitable people, and have 
 consequently hosts of dependents hanging on 
 to the skirts of their garments. They like to 
 have their houses full of guests, and so the 
 Goloobotchkins are numerous and prolific. They 
 supply a want that is much felt, and keep their 
 patrons in good humour, nor need one go as 
 far east as Moscow or St Petersburg for speci- 
 mens of the nineteenth century jester in Europe. 
 The genus occurs in every civilised country. 
 
 How Goloobotchkin was educated, where he 
 picked up his knowledge of German, whether 
 he had ever studied at Heidelberg as he pre- 
 tended, how old he was, whether he had really 
 been wealthy at some previous period of his 
 
264 ^ RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 history, and had forfeited his estates by writ- 
 ing revolutionary poetry, over all these questions 
 the veil of mystery will probably for ever hang. 
 At what precise epoch in his eventful life he 
 had met Vassilieff, Platon himself had possibly 
 forgotten. There he was, a useless, meaning- 
 less, frivolous piece of humanity, very com- 
 fortable and very happy, and not to be lightly 
 got rid of 
 
 'Well, Platon, is business bad? Or hath 
 the zeal of thine house eaten thee up?' 
 
 It is to be feared that Platon's reply was 
 neither amiable nor edifying. He growled out 
 something not unlike an oath. 
 
 'Why, brave Platosha? Why art thou cast 
 down?' and Goloobotchkin began an impromptu 
 imitation of an old Russian metrical legend 
 as follows : — 
 
 ' Why hangs the Vassilieff 's head down on his breast .'' 
 Why rests his tongue silent in his mouth ? 
 Why dance not those eyes with their wild delight ? 
 What has happened to damp the spirits of Platon Ivano- 
 vitch ? ' 
 
 ' I am disgusted with myself and with my 
 life. Its aimlessness and emptiness annoy me. 
 Surely there are better things to do than to 
 listen to meretricious gipsies at Strelna ! ' 
 
 'Of course there are, but you do not do 
 
RUN TO EARTH 265 
 
 them. Listen to me, Vassilieff. You are young: 
 I do not wish to flatter you, but you are good- 
 looking ; you are wealthy and able to gratify 
 every whim and fancy, and yet you do not 
 fall in love. Platon, you are an enigma. I am 
 but a poor devil, and not much at that, but I 
 have fallen in love at least fifty times, and so 
 I am always happy. My dear fellow, you are 
 sickening because your heart is whole. You 
 are at the age for love, now or never. Platosha, 
 you must fall in love, or you will go melan- 
 choly mad.' 
 
 ' Perhaps the remedy is worse than the dis- 
 ease. Well, to-night we will make a pilgrimage 
 to Bogorodski, and see what your beauty is 
 like. I cannot fall in love with the tame 
 geese, the fat daughters of the fat merchants, 
 my social equals, and I would never conde- 
 scend to run after an aristocrat, heartless and 
 frivolous, who would worship my money-bags 
 and despise my honest parentage.' 
 
 * You are incorrigibly heavy and serious. 
 Who wants you to fall in love with a fat, 
 money-grubbing, plutocratic person ? And as 
 for the aristocrat — what does it matter whether 
 she despises your parents who, let us hope, 
 are now suffering eternal torments for their 
 
266 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 sordid lives, so long as she loves you, Platosha? 
 Find a pretty girl and fall in love with her, 
 and the devil take the future. But one thing 
 let me warn you against — it is a thing serious 
 people like yourself are apt to do, and to 
 regret ever afterwards — do not marry ! ' 
 
 ' Goloobotchkin, you are talking nonsense.' 
 
 'Platon, I always do. You are quite serious 
 enough for both of us.' 
 
 Herr Schultze and Alyesha were both punc- 
 tual, and, after a good dinner, although Bog- 
 orodski was some distance, the exploring party 
 proceeded on foot on their adventurous quest. 
 
 The evening was splendid. The setting 
 sun gilded the tops of the trees with a glorious 
 halo, and threw a rich glow over grass and 
 flowers. The blue sky was mellowed by the 
 sunset, and as the party stepped out of the 
 forest and crossed the Jouravli Polye or Field 
 of Storks, they could catch glimpses of the 
 dust of Moscow hanging like a mantle on 
 the horizon. It was good to be away from 
 town and in the open air where there was 
 room to breathe. The heat had been intense 
 that day. 
 
 Goloobotchkin had succeeded, by dint of 
 talking irresponsible nonsense, in restoring the 
 
RUN TO EARTH 267 
 
 hard-working, earnest-minded Vassilieff to good 
 humour. 
 
 As the party crossed the peaceful Yausa near 
 Bogorodski they could see the happy natives 
 of both sexes bathing with paradisaic simplicity, 
 as is the innocent custom in Russian villages. 
 Presently they reached the wood of Bogo- 
 rodski iself, which was wild and rude and had the 
 air of being far from human habitation, but the 
 number of promenaders rather destroyed the 
 illusion. In a secluded spot was the indispens- 
 able bandstand, and here were to be heard 
 the strident brazen instruments. Close at hand 
 were the usual rustic tea-tables, w^ell patronised 
 by happy and vulgar families with innumerable 
 children. 
 
 ' I am beginning to have my doubts regard- 
 ing the success of our expedition,' said Vas- 
 silieff ' I am afraid Goloobotchkin is making a 
 fool of us. Let us take tea here under the 
 trees. The beauty is just as likely to pass 
 here as anywhere else, and if she does not we 
 shall at least have the tea to console us.' 
 
 'What!' exclaimed Goloobotchkin, 'sit down 
 here? Think of the spiders and grubs, the 
 decoction of blue-bottles, snails and old birch 
 brooms which they call tea ! Think of the 
 
268 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 vulgarity of the thing. Are we to squat down 
 like so many pigs and perspire in the com- 
 pany of those Jews, Armenians and needy 
 Bohemians? No, thank you.' 
 
 *Very well then, we won't quarrel about it. 
 Let us sit down on one of these benches.' 
 
 * No,' said Alyesha. * Let us walk about 
 and we shall have a better chance of spotting 
 the beauty.' 
 
 They walked round and round the band- 
 stand till they were tired. Every fairly good- 
 looking girl they saw, and even a great many 
 ugly ones, they questioned Goloobotchkin about 
 until he very nearly lost his temper and de- 
 clared impatiently, — 
 
 ' I tell you that girl was a beauty ! We have 
 not yet met a single decent-looking woman.' 
 
 Finally they grew tired and despondent. 
 They had walked up and down for half-an- 
 hour but Goloobotchkin's beauty was not 
 discernible. 
 
 ' I told you I did not believe we should have 
 any success,' said Platon. 'Goloobotchkin is 
 such an untrustworthy person. I propose we 
 sit down to rest in some secluded spot, and 
 then go back home. It is no use tiring our- 
 selves out.' 
 
RUN TO EARTH 269 
 
 ' You are incapable of great things,' said 
 Goloobotchkin, dejectedly. ' You lack the in- 
 finite capacity of taking pains which is the 
 distinctive characteristic of genius. Well, I wash 
 my hands of you. Give up the game by all 
 means. We will sit down and efface our- 
 selves.' 
 
 ' There is a nice comfortable seat,' said Herr 
 Schultze, pointing to one under a tree after 
 they had walked some distance. 
 
 They followed Herr Schultze's lead, and as 
 they approached the seat they became aware 
 of another upon which they could see two 
 figures — that of a man and a woman. As they 
 drew nearer, the woman looked up. She was 
 very simply dressed, but with a certain distinc- 
 tion. She was pale and seemed sorrowful' 
 but there was something exquisitely noble and 
 gracious in her face, which presented the most 
 regular features, a commanding, Juno-like mouth, 
 a firm, round chin, lustrous black eyes, and jet- 
 black hair. She was the purest type of a 
 brunette. Vassilieff was instantly struck by her 
 appearance, and both Alyesha and Goloobotch- 
 kin gazed on her with respectful admiration, a 
 homage to which she seemed both accustomed 
 and indifferent. When they had passed her 
 
 S 
 
2 70 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 a sufficient distance to be out of ear-shot, Platen 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ' Now that was a beautiful person if you like. 
 If Goloobotchkin's beauty were like her, then 
 indeed I would for once admit that he had 
 good taste. But his Venus will turn out to be 
 a yellow-faced, green-eyed hoyden, if indeed she 
 have an existence outside his imagination.' 
 
 'Which one? Where?' asked Herr Schultze, 
 looking the other way. 
 
 ' Not over there, you stupid ; we have just 
 passed her,' said Goloobotchkin, pettishly. 'And 
 so you approve, Platosha. Did you not re- 
 cognise her by my description ? ' Goloobotchkin 
 was really quivering with excitement and spoke 
 n a subdued tone of voice. 
 
 ' What nonsense ! ' said Platon ; ' it is the first 
 really pretty girl we have met, and so he 
 promptly claims her as his discovery.' 
 
 ' I assure you solemnly it is she,' Goloobotch- 
 kin exclaimed, placing his hand impressively upon 
 his heart. Herr Schultze looked round, but he 
 turned his face back again promptly, and said 
 carelessly, — 
 
 ' I am afraid, gentlemen, I have given you 
 false hopes. I do not know the lady.' 
 
 * Now we will sit down,' said Goloobotchkin. 
 
RUN TO EARTH 271 
 
 * Here we can, ourselves unobserved, observe 
 her.' 
 
 They sat down upon the seat he pointed to ; 
 it was the one Herr Schultze had originally 
 proposed. 
 
 ' What a villainous - looking ruffian the man 
 with her was,' said Vassilieff. 
 
 * Was he ? ' Herr Schultze inquired. ' I scarcely 
 noticed him. The girl is pretty.' 
 
 Presently the couple passed them at a little 
 distance, the man walking so as to shield her 
 from their gaze. He was indeed a forbidding 
 and fierce sort of person, and as he passed 
 Herr Schultze he shot that gentleman a glance 
 which seemed to make him wince, for the re- 
 doubtable riding-master, instead of returning the 
 stare, quickly looked away in as unconcerned a 
 manner as he could assume. Vassilieff noticed 
 it at the time. 
 
 ' Shall we allow them law enough and then 
 give chase? What a splendid creature!' Vas- 
 silieff exclaimed. 
 
 Herr Schultze adopted the suggestion with 
 evident satisfaction, and they sauntered after 
 the couple and tracked them to a small datchia 
 in the village. Having thus achieved their 
 object, they returned home. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ENTERPRISE 
 
 * At last, Platon, my friend, you have approved 
 my taste/ said Goloobotchkin over the tea and 
 lemon which took the place of breakfast in the 
 morning. 
 
 * A magnificent person, Goloobotchkin — fit to 
 be a queen ; and married, I dare say, to that 
 ruffian, that robber captain.' 
 
 'Let us hope he is only her husband. It 
 would be dreadful if he were her brother ! ' 
 
 ' I will tell you what it is — I am desperately 
 in love with her already, and I only hope she 
 is what she should be.' 
 
 ' I congratulate you, Platon, on the rapidity 
 with which you have capitulated. You are 
 certain to find her an excellent remedy against 
 the blues, only let me entreat you not to 
 bother your stupid head with all sort of morbid 
 speculations about her status. Take short views 
 of life and be happy.' 
 
 ' Well, I am going to try to achieve happiness, 
 272 
 
ENTERPRISE 273 
 
 that Will-o'-the-wisp, but I must get to know her. 
 I mean to set to work about that this very day.' 
 And Vassilieff was as good as his word. That 
 day he left his office rather earlier than 
 usual and went straight to Bogorodski. The 
 datchia to which he had tracked the beautiful 
 stranger looked empty and desolate, and some- 
 how he lacked the courage to enter boldly 
 and make himself known ; he preferred to 
 hang about the adjacent wood and hope that 
 luck might favour him. Nothing is supposed 
 to be more dangerous or more foolish than 
 drifting. Platon drifted gently along until he 
 suddenly found himself brought face to face 
 with the very person he was in search of But 
 strange to say, so unexpected and so fortunate 
 a chance did not seem to afford him the pleasure 
 he had anticipated. On the contrary, he suddenly 
 felt that he was an intruder and had no right 
 to be where he was. The girl was seated on the 
 trunk of a tree, rapt in thought. The soft and 
 aromatic fragrance peculiar to pine forests seemed 
 to be appropriate to her stately, melancholy 
 grace. As he approached she raised her head 
 and looked at him with an air of speculative 
 interest, as though he were some scientific 
 curiosity which she had not yet studied, but 
 
2 74 A RUSSIAN WILD FLO TVER 
 
 which had only just come within the sphere of 
 her observation — a new fact among a multitude 
 of others. There was no embarrassment, no 
 maidenly confusion in her countenance, which 
 seemed even more singularly beautiful than 
 on the previous evening. She was looking at 
 him with the cold, emotionless and perhaps 
 somewhat haughty eye of the philosopher, and 
 yet she was obviously scarcely out of her teens. 
 Platon vaguely felt as though he had known 
 her for years. She seemed to have haunted 
 him in his dreams. The face was quite familiar ; 
 he seemed to have seen it, and tried to call 
 to mind where he had first gazed on it. But 
 his efforts of memory were futile ; he had in 
 fact never actually seen her before last night, 
 and he was conscious that this was the case, 
 still the sight of her was like that of meeting 
 a long-lost friend, someone he had been vainly 
 trying to find. His courage took to its heels, 
 and the redoubtable Vassilieff, the millionaire, 
 was little Platosha again, childish and shy — it 
 was a strange transformation. He pulled him- 
 self together, and in his determination to fight 
 against his bashfulness was guilty of an act 
 of awkward rudeness — he complacently sat down 
 upon the trunk beside the young lady. But 
 
ENTERPRISE 275 
 
 he did not disconcert her. She simply rose 
 languidly from her seat and sauntered leisurely 
 in the direction of the datchia. Vassilieff gave 
 her time to get away some distance, and then 
 rose and followed her. The path she had 
 chosen led out of the wood into the highroad 
 called the ' Prospect/ which lay between Sokolniki 
 and Bogorodski. It was lined with villas, and 
 was of course more frequented than the wood. 
 As soon as she had reached the Prospect she 
 quickened her steps and started walking at a 
 rapid pace. Vassilieff, following sheepishly, ad- 
 mired the grace of her movements. Suddenly 
 his eyes encountered an empty droshka or cab 
 slowly crawling towards Sokolniki. As soon as 
 he saw the young lady, the isvostchik, or driver, 
 took off his quaint beef-eater's hat to her. The 
 lady stopped him, got into the conveyance and 
 drove off. Vassilieff was baffled and felt annoyed, 
 but he nevertheless continued walking in the 
 direction of Bogorodski. x^fter a few minutes 
 the droshka returned empty, having deposited 
 its fare at her destination. An idea struck 
 Vassilieff; he hailed the cab. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' said the isvostchik, 
 ' but I cannot drive to Bogorodski again. I 
 have to get back ! ' 
 
276 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' I don't want to go to Bogorodski. I want 
 to get back to Sokolniki myself.' 
 
 * All right, sir ! ' said the driver. 
 
 ' Did you know that lady whom you drove 
 to Bogorodski just now ? ' asked Vassilieff as 
 soon as he had got seated in the droskha. 
 
 * Did I know her, barin?' — (Russian equivalent for 
 sir).' 'Of course I did. Who does not know her ? ' 
 
 Vassilieffs heart misgave him. 
 
 * Is she a celebrity, then ? An actress or 
 anything of that sort, eh ? ' he inquired. 
 
 ' An actress ! No, barin, she is no actress ! 
 That was Olga Michaelovna, the schoolmistress, 
 who does so much good among the poor about 
 here.' 
 
 * Oh ! a schoolmistress is she ? Has she been 
 about here long?' 
 
 * No, barin, she has not been here long, but 
 all our brothers, the poor, know her. I know 
 her because I always drive her — that is, mostly. 
 I am going to drive her to town to-morrow. 
 She is a lady, you know, sir, and only teaches 
 for amusement.' 
 
 * Indeed ! ' said Vassilieff, in some perturbation, 
 for a plan was rapidly forming in his bewildered 
 brain. * I say,' he said suddenly, ' do you want 
 to earn some money ? ' 
 
ENTERPRISE 277 
 
 The isvostchik turned ' his head round and 
 grinned. 
 
 ' I know,' he said, ' I have done it before, but 
 not with this one. You want me to give her 
 a letter ? I will do it if you like, barin, but 
 I am afraid she will never drive with me again. 
 She is a very stern lady in those matters. She 
 has nothing to say to the male sex.' 
 
 'What is your name?' asked Vassilieff, laughing. 
 
 * Valerian, barin.' 
 
 ' Well, then. Valerian, I do not want you to 
 give her any letters, or any foolishness of that 
 kind. I want to give you a holiday to-morrow. 
 Valerian ! ' 
 
 * What do you mean, barin ? Who is to drive 
 the barishnya ' — (young lady) — ' to town, then ? ' 
 
 ' I will. Look here. Valerian, I want to be 
 an isvostchik for to-morrow. I will give you 
 a holiday, and drive the barishnya about my- 
 self.' 
 
 ' Cross yourself, barin ; you are being tempted 
 of the devil.' 
 
 ' No, no. Valerian, I am no scamp. Drive 
 over there to the left — there, that way — now to 
 the right — that's it — that is my datchia. I have 
 fallen in love with that barishnya, and want to 
 know her. I will pay you well for it. You 
 
278 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 know I am Platon Ivanovitch Vassilieff, the 
 cotton-spinner.' 
 
 Valerian took off his hat respectfully, and 
 bowed as Vassilieff alighted. 
 
 ' I know your name and your factory well, 
 Platon Ivanovitch ; but why do you want to 
 ruin a poor cabman? Leave my cab alone, 
 Platon Ivanovitch. If I lend it to you, the 
 police will find it out, and I shall get punished. ' 
 
 'We will take off the number, Valerian,' said 
 Vassilieff, gaily, for whom obstacles existed only 
 to be overcome. 
 
 Finally, after much haggling and much argu- 
 ment, Vassilieff succeeded in overcoming the 
 scruples of Valerian, who adroitly availed him- 
 self of them as a means of getting better terms. 
 
 The next morning the sordid and money- 
 grabbing Vassilieff, as Goloobotchkin liked to 
 call him, did not go to his money-grubbing office, 
 but, attired in the humble garb of an isvostchik, 
 and with trembling heart, he drove to the datchia 
 of Olga Michaelovna, to take her to town. On 
 his way it struck him that she might possibly 
 recognise him, notwithstanding his disguise, as 
 the man who had behaved so rudely to her the 
 day before, and might send him empty away. 
 That would be distinctly unpleasant. But he 
 
ENTERPRISE 279 
 
 determined to trust to his luck and his impudence 
 and to brazen it out. 
 
 When Olga Michaelovna descended the steps 
 of her datchia, she was surprised to find another 
 cabman in the place of her old acquaintance 
 Valerian. 
 
 * How is this ? Where is Valerian ? ' 
 
 ' He was summoned by the police this morn- 
 ing, your honour ; we do not know what it is 
 about. Some think it is because he is wanted 
 to go and thrash the Turks, others say he has 
 got into some trouble. God is merciful ! But as 
 Valerian did not wish to disappoint your honour, 
 he has sent me instead.' 
 
 When Vassilieff mentioned the word police 
 he thought he noticed a look of anxiety come 
 over Olga Michaelovna's face, and something 
 like an involuntary shudder. So far she had 
 not recognised him. She got into his droshka 
 and directed him whither to drive her. Platon 
 was so overjoyed at his luck that the hopeless- 
 ness of the situation did not strike him for at 
 least a quarter of a mile of the journey. Then 
 at last it dawned upon him that although the 
 object of his quest was indeed seated safely be- 
 hind him, he was as far as ever from getting on 
 terms of familiar acquaintance with her. When 
 
28o A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 the first flush of triumphant exultation was over, 
 he felt that there was still a wide gulf between 
 him and her, and how to bridge it was a 
 problem he vainly puzzled his head to solve. 
 
 But he was soon helped out of his embarrass- 
 ment. * How much do you generally earn a 
 day ? ' he suddenly heard his fare inquire, and 
 now he almost wished she had not spoken. 
 What was he to answer? If he were to say 
 that his earnings amounted on an average to 
 about thirty pounds a day, she would stare. 
 He scratched his head and assumed that ex- 
 pression of hopeless stupidity which the Russian 
 peasant invariably puts on when he is about to 
 tell a thumping lie. 
 
 ' How am I to say, your honour ? I get 
 enough to live on, thank God ! Sometimes I 
 make more, and sometimes less, and sometimes 
 I do not make anything at all. It all depends 
 upon the sort of fare I begin with. If my first 
 fare has a light hand, then I am sure to have 
 a lucky day, but if his hand should be heavy 
 I might as well have stayed at home.' 
 
 With these words of profound wisdom, Platon 
 endeavoured to evade his interlocutor, knowing 
 well, as he did, the superstitions of cabmen 
 and their race. But she was not to be put off. 
 
ENTERPRISE 281 
 
 'Well, now, what do you earn on good days, 
 for instance?' she asked. 
 
 'Sometimes I earn three roubles a day, some- 
 times five, and sometimes I am grateful if I can 
 earn one.' (A rouble is about two shillings.) 
 
 ' Poor fellow ! And what are your expenses ? ' 
 
 This was another awkward question. 
 
 ' That depends upon what I earn, you see, 
 your honour. First, there's the horse, that has 
 to be fed ; then the wife wants money, and the 
 little children must not be forcrotten. And then 
 there is the lodging. Sometimes I do not know 
 how to manage it at all, God knows ! I work as 
 hard as I can, and I don't drink — not a drop. I 
 never touch wine of any kind, so help me God ! ' 
 
 ' Dear ! dear ! dear ! And there are so many 
 rich men who do not know what to do with their 
 money, and waste it, and you, poor fellovv-, have 
 to slave all day, and cannot make enough to 
 live on even then ! ' 
 
 Platon, who had been congratulating himself 
 upon his success so far, did not quite relish 
 this last speech. For some reason or other it 
 made him feel uncomfortable. Was his charm- 
 ing fare a Nihilist? Dreadful thought! 
 
 Olga Michaelovna directed him to drive her 
 to a part of the town which was far from 
 
282 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 fashionable, and then dismissed him. Before 
 leaving him she said, — 
 
 'Come and see me this evening. I should 
 like to talk to you; ask for Olga Michaelovna.' 
 Platon could scarcely contain himself 
 ' At what time may I come, your honour ? ' 
 ' Oh, any time you like. Come after your 
 work — nine o'clock, if that will suit you. Here,' 
 and she held out her hand to pay him his fare. 
 But what was her surprise when the rude, 
 uneducated isvostchik politely took off his hat 
 and drove off at a furious rate without taking 
 the money. He drove off to Valerian and 
 rewarded him handsomely, and then returned 
 home to divest himself of the garments to which 
 he was so little used, and to tell Goloobotchkin 
 of his adventure and his success. That evening 
 he was going to see the Bogorodski beauty 
 by appointment. Goloobotchkin roared with 
 laughter. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 BY APPOINTMENT 
 
 ' I AM beginning to think she is a Nihilist,' 
 Vassilieff exclaimed after dinner, as he was pre- 
 paring himself for his expedition and steadying 
 his nerves with a final liqueur. 
 
 ' I should not be surprised/ said Goloobotchkin, 
 thoughtfully. ' But why meet troubles half-way ? 
 If she is, you must bring her back to a proper 
 way of thinking. Above all things, you great 
 big stupid, you must not allow her to convert 
 yoti and get you into trouble.' 
 
 'There is no fear of that,' Vassilieff replied 
 stoutly, and with a cheery smile. ' We have all 
 been Nihilists in our time. It is a disease of 
 childhood, and I have got over it long ago.' 
 
 With these words he gaily started on his 
 journey, but it was with a palpitating heart 
 and a giddy sensation at the head that he 
 ascended the wooden steps of the humble 
 Bogorodski datchia and rang the bell with a 
 tremulous hand. 
 
 How would his audacity be received ? What 
 2S3 
 
284 ^ RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 would be his fate? Would he succeed in ob- 
 taining admission, and would he be promptly 
 turned out of the house for his impudence, as 
 he deserved to be? He was not given much 
 time to torment himself with these questions, 
 for the door was speedily opened by a tall and 
 gaunt old woman, who eyed him suspiciously 
 and asked him what he wanted. 
 
 ' Is Olga Michaelovna in ? ' he asked. ' She 
 told me to come and see her this evening.' 
 
 ' Did she ? ' said the old woman. ' Well, come 
 in, we crave your graciousness,' a formal, old- 
 fashioned Russian form of invitation. 
 
 Astounded and dazed, Vassilieff walked into the 
 room into which he was ushered, with the blind 
 courage with which a soldier charges a battery. 
 
 *To what circumstance am I indebted for the 
 honour of this visit ? ' he heard the soft, musical 
 voice of Olga Michaelovna say. 
 
 Covered with confusion, Vassilieff looked at the 
 calm and collected features of the young lady, and 
 made her a formal bow ; but as soon as his eyes 
 met hers, his conscience-stricken face betrayed him, 
 and the blood mantled to his brow. Olga Michael- 
 ovna recognised immediately the man who had so 
 impudently sat down beside her the day before. 
 She looked angry, amazed and formidable. 
 
B V APPOINTMENT 285 
 
 ' Sir, I have not the honour of knowing you. 
 This is an unwarrantable intrusion. I must ask you 
 to leave the house instantly. I will call my servant 
 to show you out,' and she rose to leave the room. 
 
 Vassilieff felt that unless he said or did some- 
 thing all would be lost. 
 
 * Do not send me away, Olga Michaelovna ; you 
 yourself asked me to call. I come by appoint- 
 ment, your honour ! ' he said, suddenly assuming 
 the gruff tones with which he had simulated the 
 isvostchik's voice that morning. 
 
 Olga Michaelovna looked at him intently for a 
 few seconds and then could not refrain from laugh- 
 ing — the comicality of the situation was irresistible. 
 But she soon grew serious again, and even sterner 
 than before, as she looked at him once more in- 
 quiringly. He stood her gaze meekly but unflinch- 
 ingly, and he looked so thoroughly honest and 
 unsophisticated that Olga Michaelovna motioned 
 him to take a seat. 
 
 * Who are you ? ' she inquired. 
 
 Platon hesitated for a moment, but seeing that his 
 delay in replying was producing a bad impression, 
 he took out his card-case and handed her a card. 
 
 * I am Platon Ivanovitch Vassilieff, merchant 
 and manufacturer, at your service.' 
 
 Olga Michaelovna seemed surprised. 
 T 
 
286 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * What ! ' she exclaimed. * Not the millionaire ? ' 
 ' The very same.' 
 
 * Ah ! that accounts for your insolence ! ' Then 
 she continued, in an indifferent tone, but watching 
 his face carefully, * Have you known Herr Schultze 
 long ? ' 
 
 It was Platon's turn to be surprised now. She 
 remembered that evening, then. 
 
 * No, not long. But I did not know you knew 
 him. He at least does not know you.' 
 
 * You are either a very naif yo\ing man or very 
 much the reverse. And when may I expect a 
 visit from my father ? ' 
 
 'Your father? I have not the pleasure of his 
 acquaintance, but I wish I knew him ! ' Platon 
 now felt that it was absolutely necessary for him 
 to explain all the circumstances of his seeing^and 
 falling in love with Olga Michaelovna, and his 
 determination to make her acquaintance. When 
 he had finished the lady said wearily, — 
 
 'And so you have fallen in love with me, like 
 so many others. I assure you it is a most fatal 
 thing,' she said, jestingly ; ' everybody who pays 
 court to me seems to be unfortunate, and then, 
 you know, I have no heart, and no time, besides, 
 for such nonsense.' 
 
 *01ga Michaelovna, permit me at least to see 
 
B V APPOINTMENT 287 
 
 you occasionally. I cannot tell you what that 
 means to me. It gives me life and hope. I feel 
 myself irresistibly drawn towards you. I am 
 sure that we are fated to become friends.' 
 
 He was not awkward nor objectionable ; there 
 was nothing vulgar or rakish about his appearance. 
 His manners were deferential and gentlemanly, but, 
 above all, he looked so transparently honest that 
 Olga Michaelovna felt constrained to tolerate him. 
 
 ' Well,' she said, ' so be it, then ; let us be friends. 
 You may be of some use. If you are indeed the 
 millionaire you can be of great use. But what 
 matters who you are ? I have your number 
 already,' she added, with a charming smile. 
 
 ' How can I be of use ? You have only to 
 command.' 
 
 ' Your money may be of use,' she replied coldly. 
 ' I try to do a little good, and to help the poor. 
 But this is a strange way of striking up an ac- 
 quaintance. You see a lady, you feel irresistibly 
 drawn towards her. You insult her; then you 
 masquerade as a cabman, and then you force 
 your way into her house. Do you often feel 
 irresistibly drawn towards people?' 
 
 Platon assured her in the most solemn manner 
 possible that she was the first lady who had ever 
 inspired him with any regard. 
 
288 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' And supposing the kindred spirit should turn 
 out to be married ? ' 
 
 Platon looked indescribably miserable, and was 
 going to make some reply, but his countenance 
 had reassured the lady, who said, — 
 
 ' Do not alarm yourself. I am neither married, 
 nor engaged, nor yet a widow. And so you 
 are a cabman ? ' she continued, gaily. ' I had 
 intended to give you your fare, but now I shall 
 bestow the money upon some more deserving 
 person.' 
 
 Platon bowed mutely. 
 
 ' So you earn about three roubles a day ? ' 
 
 ' Those are about the average takings,' he replied, 
 with a smile. 
 
 ' Of a cabman ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, of a cabman ? ' 
 
 ' Is it not a wretched pittance ! ' 
 
 ' Well, you see, the people manage to live upon 
 it ; their wants are few, and the market value of 
 labour is low.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I see. You are a heartless political 
 economist! You look at everything from the 
 market-value point of view ! ' she exclaimed 
 bitterly ; * but what,' she added, ' can one expect 
 from a manufacturer and a millionaire ? ' 
 
 ' You are quite right. As a manufacturer I 
 
B V APPOINTMENT 289 
 
 cannot afford to ignore the hard and unalterable 
 laws of political economy. To do so would mean 
 ruin. But I do not think that I always apply 
 these very rigidly in individual cases. Never- 
 theless, a factory is not a benevolent institution.' 
 
 * No, it is not ; but it ought to be. After all, 
 humanity should be the first consideration — every- 
 thing else is of no consequence. What does 
 trade signify? And as for your own paltry 
 interests, they are absolutely of no importance.' 
 
 * That is perfectly true. But is it not conceiv- 
 able that in some circumstance they might become 
 important ? Supposing,' he said awkwardly, ' I 
 were to get married, would they not become of 
 importance to my family ? ' 
 
 Olga Michaelovna laughed with amusement at 
 his unsophisticated simplicity. 
 
 'I see,' she cried, 'you are an incorrigible indi- 
 vidualist. Tell me, have you ever felt irresistibly 
 drawn towards your own workmen ? There is 
 no kindred spirit there. You have nothing in 
 common with them.' 
 
 ' I am afraid not. When I think of them, they 
 make me unspeakably wretched. Their lives 
 seem to be an endless round of drudgery and 
 drink. It is impossible to do anything for them.' 
 
 ' Have you ever tried ? I suppose you simply 
 
290 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 regard them as a factor in the accumulation of 
 your own weahh — so much labour — ^just as you 
 regard your machinery, only you are more careful 
 of that, for it is more expensive. I dare say you 
 even bestow more thought and affection upon 
 your horses than upon these mere human labour- 
 producing slaves.' 
 
 Vassiliefif, who had hitherto regarded himself as 
 rather a benevolent and public-spirited person, was 
 quite ashamed and crestfallen as he hunted up 
 in his mind for some proofs of his philanthropy. 
 
 * I have tried to improve their condition as much 
 as I could. I have established schools for their 
 children, I have a free dispensary, I have endeav- 
 oured to infuse into them a spirit of emulation by 
 introducing piece-work. I maintain a priest to 
 look after their spiritual welfare. They have a 
 free library and a savings-bank, and I have tried 
 to raise their standard of living. But it is all 
 of no use. It is hopeless. One factory cannot 
 reform the entire people, and it is from the people 
 that I have to draw my supply of labour.' 
 
 ' I do not think much of your efforts. You 
 have tried to introduce among these people the 
 terrible element of competition, and you have 
 endeavoured to darken their minds with super- 
 stition. These poor creatures want bread and 
 
B V APPOINTMENT 291 
 
 you give them stones in the shape of piece-work 
 and priests, and savings-banks, when they have 
 nothing to save.' 
 
 ' No, they spend all their earnings in drink. But 
 emulation is an excellent thing. The struggle for 
 life, upon which scientists base the progress of this 
 world, is but the prototype of that higher, nobler 
 struggle of the spirit — the battle between good 
 and evil, the spiritual fermentation which leads 
 to eternal progress.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I see ! You are a mystic. But we have 
 no evidence of this spiritual fermentation. It is a 
 figment of our superstitious imagination, and 
 invented by the strong in order to amuse the 
 weak. But the physical struggle, that is a reality, 
 and it is the bane of our order of society. You 
 say civilisation is based on it. So it is, but civilis- 
 ation itself is wrong, and should be done away 
 with. Can any order of society be more unjust 
 than one which condemns the majority of human 
 beings to slavery and privation, ignorance and 
 vice, while it reserves the comforts and luxuries, 
 the virtues and graces, to the iQ,\v ? ' 
 
 ' What you say is very beautiful, but it seems to 
 be the will of Providence that the many should 
 be needy. It has always been so — the ancients 
 had slavery, the moderns labour, but the poor have 
 
292 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 been always with us. You say civilisation is 
 wrong. Perhaps it is. But how are you to convince 
 mankind that they are mistaken ? What aim are 
 you to give them ? What are they to live for ? ' 
 
 *We are all wanting to live for something. It 
 is that which is so foolish. There is nothing worth 
 striving for, nothing worth living for except life. 
 Let us help others to live and live ourselves. All 
 ideas of wealth and property and religion are vain 
 and mischievous. You are simply preparing for 
 yourselves enemies who will one day rise up and 
 slay you.' 
 
 ' These views were mine once,' said Platon, ' but 
 they have vanished before the stern logic of facts. 
 What is to induce the rich to part with their 
 wealth if you deprive them of their religious ideals ? 
 How are you to make the poor honest and indus- 
 trious unless you give them a higher reason for it 
 than mere social expediency ? The battle of the 
 world is a school in which we are taught the means 
 of obtaining a victory over evil, over self. But 
 even religion has not proved a sufficient induce- 
 ment to many to persevere ; without it selfishness 
 would be the supreme law.' 
 
 ' Religion, as you admit, has failed to redeem 
 mankind. Let us try to live without it. Falsehood 
 can never be right' 
 
B V APPOINTMENT 
 
 293 
 
 'We cannot abolish religion. The experiment 
 has been repeatedly tried and has always failed. 
 Religion invariably reasserts itself. The human 
 race cannot do without it, and the nations who 
 reject, always disappear before those who have, 
 faith.' 
 
 * You are a hopeless mystic. But I was super- 
 stitious once, and I can sympathise with you. To 
 cast off the old beliefs is a hard wrench.' 
 
 * I have both cast them off and put them on 
 again. Both experiences are trying. But we 
 treasure what we have lost all the more after we 
 have found it again. Who knows perhaps you too 
 may return to the faith of your fathers ! ' 
 
 ' I fear not. My idols are hopelessly shattered. 
 Yet it was a sweet time, the old time of simple, 
 childish faith. But the veil has been lifted and 
 the hard realities of life must be bravely faced. 
 It is sad and dreary to believe in nothing, but life 
 is sad and dreary for every one, and it is better to 
 know the truth than to walk in a vain dream.' 
 
 * I am sure,' said Vassilieff, earnestly, * that a time 
 will come when you will take a less gloomy view 
 of life. You are honest and noble, Olga Michael- 
 ovna, and it is written that the pure in heart will 
 see God.' 
 
 With these words he rose to go, for it was getting 
 
294 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 late. Before leaving he asked permission to repeat 
 his visit. 
 
 * I should like to discuss these subjects with you 
 again, for they interest me deeply. Do not you 
 think I was right — have we not something in 
 common ? ' 
 
 Olga Michaelovna smiled graciously. 
 
 'You have already improved on acquaintance. 
 I certainly think it was a fortunate accident that 
 brought you here, for I may be able to persuade 
 you to do some good yet,' she said. 
 
 * I trust we have met under the guidance of a 
 power greater than accident, and in accordance 
 with laws higher than those which govern the 
 molecular attraction of material bodies,' Vassilieff 
 replied gravely. 
 
 * Have it as you wish,' she answered, laughing, ' I 
 suppose I must submit to the species of gravita- 
 tion called fate, for I do not believe in your ruling 
 power. I know you now and I must accept you as 
 an acquaintance. But, remember, should you ever 
 have reason to regret knowing me, you will have 
 only your own rashness to blame, and possibly 
 that feeling of being irresistibly drawn towards a 
 kindred spirit' She laughed prettily and her 
 eyes shone with a playful mockery. 
 
 * So be it, then,' he answered solemnly ; ' the 
 
B V APPOINTMENT 295 
 
 consequences of my rashness be upon my own 
 head.' 
 
 He bowed and took his departure, charmed, 
 intoxicated with the exquisite flavour of delicate 
 refinement about this girl, but convinced that she 
 was a Nihilist, and determined to bring her back 
 from her erring ways. 
 
 He had noticed the simple elegance and good 
 taste of her little home, and her strange question 
 about her father made him feel certain that she 
 had eloped from home like so many others in 
 those sad times, and that she was a lady both by 
 birth and education. Could he hope to win her 
 and carry her off? He felt very doubtful, but he 
 was fully resolved to try his utmost. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII I 
 
 TREACHERY 
 
 The reader has probably suspected that Olga 
 Michaelovna was no other than Princess Obolenski, 
 whose abrupt disappearance from Moscow had 
 caused so great a sensation. It was indeed the 
 wayward Olga to whom we were first introduced 
 under very different circumstances at Volkovo 
 
 She was living at Bogorodski with her 
 faithful Agraphia. All the necessary arrange- 
 ments for the concealment of her identity had 
 been left to Proudsorin. But although he re- 
 mained her friend and protector she had not 
 suffered him to become either her husband or 
 her lover. Their relations were such as frequently 
 existed in that strange period of wild enthusiasm 
 between Nihilists of both sexes. Poor Olga was 
 not happy under these new conditions. The 
 cold, atheistical creed she had embraced was 
 foreign to her generous and affectionate nature. 
 She was disillusioned, had stifled her feelings, 
 and was leading a sort of mechanical life. She 
 was more than ever disgusted with the world. 
 
 Wherever she turned she found the realities of life 
 
 296 
 
TREACHERY 297 
 
 so different from the imaginative ideals she 
 had formed at Volkovo. Even Nihilists were 
 not heroes, nor were the poor all honest. Sooner 
 or later in this pilgrimage of ours to the grave 
 we make the sad discovery — if we have the 
 courage to be honest, that is — that perfection 
 is not for mortal man. 
 
 Poor Olga had no faith in the future, no 
 pleasure in the present, and no regrets for the past. 
 It was a sad life to lead, a life which was only 
 made possible by dint of ceaseless work — work 
 which the friends of Proudsorin found for her 
 among the poor. She had got to such a stage 
 that, if she had but dared to confess it to herself, 
 she was beginning to lose faith in the efficacy of 
 the great panacea of anarchy, or even a social 
 revolution. But she probably was scarcely con- 
 scious that this was the state of her mind. 
 
 After hiding for about a month she had taken 
 a small datchia at Bogorodski and had lived a 
 secluded and unobserved life until the fateful 
 evening when she had recognised Herr Schultze 
 in the wood. The sight of him had caused her 
 no little uneasiness, for she feared he might betray 
 her whereabouts to her father, but it disconcerted 
 Proudsorin even more. 
 
 On the morning after his visit to Bogorodski, 
 
298 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 Herr Schultze was sitting in his little room sipping 
 his coffee, like a true son of the Fatherland, 
 and feeling somewhat like a mellow pear which 
 has been exposed to the rain, for he was a 
 hard liver. 
 
 ' Run to earth at last ! ' he muttered to himself. 
 ' I do not think the fellow noticed me. But even 
 if Proudsorin should try to put a spoke in my 
 wheel, I can take care of myself!' 
 
 These sentences was delivered in German and 
 accompanied by numerous * Donnerwetters ' and 
 similar expletives. 
 
 He had scarcely uttered this soliloquy when 
 his servant announced the very man he intended 
 to be on his guard against. Proudsorin's sudden 
 appearance did not seem to rejoice Herr Schultze, 
 but that gentleman did his best to assume a 
 careless and jovial manner. 
 
 * Ah ! my dear Proudsorin ! ' he exclaimed, 
 *so you have not forgotten me. I thought you 
 were dead and buried. But you are looking 
 extremely well. I am really delighted to see 
 you.' 
 
 ' I am living in the country,' Proudsorin replied, 
 'otherwise I would have taken an earlier oppor- 
 tunity of calling.' 
 
 * I know you would. Have you heard any thing 
 
TREACHERY 299 
 
 of that charming young lady whom you used to 
 flirt with at the riding-school, and who disap- 
 peared so mysteriously? What was her name?' 
 
 'You must mean Princess Obolenski,' said 
 Proudsorin, sternly. 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! That was the name ; I remember it 
 now. It is all very well for you to look so 
 solemn, but I am certain you know all about 
 her. Devilish pretty girl, and lots of money, no 
 doubt. Have the parents forgiven her and made 
 it all right ? Are you to be congraulated, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Look here, Herr Schultze, I have not come 
 here to bandy compliments with you. I have 
 come to see you on a matter of business, and 
 to warn you as a friend. You have been peril- 
 ously near getting yourself into difficulties 
 lately. Be careful of your conduct. What did 
 you come smelling me out at Bogorodski for? 
 What did you w^ant? Why did you pretend 
 not to see me last night? You know you saw 
 me perfectly.' 
 
 'The fact is, I was not quite sure that it 
 was you. Besides, I was not alone. Those 
 young men I was with were — ' 
 
 ' Were police spies,' broke in Proudsorin, 
 fiercely. 
 
 ' They were nothing of the kind. They were 
 
300 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 wealthy merchants living at Sokolniki with whom 
 I had been dining. We were having a stroll after 
 dinner.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes ! Just to aid your digestion. Now, 
 Herr Schultze, if you wish to preserve your ex- 
 cellent digestion do not interfere in my affairs. If 
 you move in this matter or try to make capital 
 out of it, your health will suffer. I have quite 
 enough evidence against you. But I have wanted 
 you and have used you. Beware how you behave 
 in the future. I have come here to give you 
 warning, that is all. Good-bye.' 
 
 Proudsorin rose, and left the room amidst the 
 protestations of Herr Schultze, who solemnly swore 
 that nothing was further from his thoughts than 
 to betray his friends. But no sooner had the 
 door closed upon Proudsorin's departing figure 
 than Herr Schultze's facial expression underwent 
 an entire change. He valorously shook his fist 
 at the inoffensive door and muttered, — 
 
 ' I am not going to be bullied out of a 
 thousand roubles by an idle threat. What do 
 I care for Proudsorin and the whole execu- 
 tive committee ? The executive committee ! — the 
 devil ! ' 
 
 Herr Schultze sallied out almost immediately 
 afterwards. He kept looking carefully about 
 
TREACHERY 301 
 
 him to see that he was not being followed, but 
 he had not walked far before an observant 
 spectator would have noticed a mysterious figure 
 in a cloak about a hundred paces behind him. 
 Whenever Herr Schultze looked round, and he 
 did so pretty often, this strange figure would slip 
 into a door-way or up a by-street, so as not to 
 be seen. Herr Schultze was apparently taking a 
 constitutional, and did not seem to have made 
 up his mind as to where he was going, for he 
 kept walking round and round the by-streets of 
 his neighbourhood until finally he sauntered to 
 the boulevard, and from thence seemed to drift 
 rather than to directly walk into the residence 
 of the Police Prefect, General Balvanoff. He 
 was instantly ushered into the general's presence, 
 for Herr Schultze was on terms of respectful 
 intimacy with him. 
 
 ' Ah ! Schultze ! What brings you here so 
 early? Sit down.' 
 
 * I have some news for your excellency. Do 
 you remember the mysterious disappearance of 
 Princess Obolenski this spring ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I do. The poor old prince, poor 
 old fool, thought I had only to put my hand 
 into my pocket to produce her. I think he 
 went quite mad about her, poor fellow ! Well, 
 
 U 
 
302 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 you don't mean to say you have found her, 
 eh?' 
 
 * I think I could put my hand on her, your 
 excellency ! ' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! I always thought you were at 
 the bottom of that affair, Schultze, and that 
 you would get her as soon as it was feasible. 
 You wanted a little money, I suppose, eh ? You 
 are a clever fellow, Schultze, and have been 
 very useful to us.' 
 
 Herr Schultze assumed an expression of ex- 
 treme modesty. 
 
 ' To produce her, your excellency, I should 
 have to unearth a whole nest of Nihilists.' 
 
 ' Clever fellow ! clever fellow ! ' 
 
 'That, your excellency is aware, is an ex- 
 pensive business. The reward offered by Prince 
 Obolenski is a thousand roubles, is it not ? ' 
 
 ' Quite right' 
 
 'But this Nihilist business is risky. I have 
 already received a warning from the executive 
 committee.' 
 
 'Well, you must not implicate me, you know,' 
 said General Balvanoff, nervously. 'A princess 
 is a prize they will not easily let slip. But 
 they will never dare to do you any harm.' 
 
 ' I do not know so much about that,' Herr 
 
TREACHERY 303 
 
 Schultze replied dubiously. ' Nihilists are 
 Nihilists, and desperate when roused. To them 
 nothing is sacred. Of course I shall not im- 
 plicate your excellency, but I must ask for 
 protection.' 
 
 ' I must see what we can do, Schultze ; of 
 course we must protect you. But we must not 
 arouse their suspicion.' 
 
 With a light heart and an easy conscience 
 Herr Schultze took his leave and retraced his 
 steps to the Moscow Tattersall to give his 
 usual riding-lessons. 
 
 Meanwhile the mysterious figure which had 
 tracked him to the Prefecture returned to Herr 
 Schultze's residence, and there did a curious 
 thing. The man, who revealed the austere 
 features of Proudsorin, took a piece of chalk 
 from his pocket and executed the design of a 
 neat little cross over Herr Schultze's door. It 
 was a trick a schoolboy might have played, 
 but it marked the riding-master's doom. 
 
 That evening there was revelry in the apart- 
 ments of Krackovitski, a doctor. In a large 
 though poorly furnished room was assembled a 
 company of young men and women, the latttr 
 with cropped hair and spectacles. Kracko- 
 vitski presided. He vras a big fat fellow of 
 
3o4 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 unprepossessing but distinctly jovial appearance. 
 He had a magnificent bass voice, and enter- 
 tained his guests with a song in imitation of 
 the sonorous chants of the Greek Church. 
 These people were Nihilists, but used, when 
 they met together, to drink and sing and play 
 cards, like ordinary dissipated students, so as 
 not to arouse the suspicion of servants and 
 landladies. For nobody knew who might be 
 spying about, and it was a common thing in 
 Moscow for the dvornik or house-porter to go 
 the rounds of the flats and ask the servants 
 what was going on inside. If the servants did 
 not know, they were made to find some pre- 
 text for going in to see. If the people were 
 drinking and gambling, the dvornik, whose busi- 
 ness it was to report all he knew to the police, 
 did not prosecute his inquiries further, but his 
 suspicions would have been aroused had he been 
 told that serious discussions were going on. He 
 would have wanted to know what they were 
 about, and there is no knowing what complica- 
 tions might not have arisen. Wise and practical 
 people therefore always pretended to be revel- 
 ling. It was much safer. The solemn chant 
 Krackovitski sang was sung monotonously and 
 solemnly, and the last word in each verse was 
 
TREACHERY 305 
 
 drawn out like the ' amen ' at the end of an 
 anthem. Although the song was Krackovitski's, 
 it was sung by the entire assembly, as though 
 they were a church choir. This was it : — 
 
 King Datid played the lyre 
 While singing folks to tire, 
 Such stupid nonsense dire, 
 
 Most unpar — don — a — bly. 
 
 We know in ages bygone, , 
 
 His Psalms to put the lie on, 
 How lived the King of Zion 
 So luxu — ri — ously. 
 
 He laughed at water gaily, 
 And drank his liquor halely, 
 Three gkllons swallowed daily, 
 Or appro — xi — mate — ly. 
 
 No priest of high election 
 
 To wine doth make objection ; 
 
 They all drink to perfection, 
 
 Most tre — men — do — ously. 
 
 For water men will sadden, 
 And tea their brains will madden, 
 But wine the heart doth gladden, 
 Oh I so glo — ri — ous — ly ! 
 
 While they were roaring out the words of this 
 favourite students' song Proudsorin entered, and 
 sat down next to Krackovitski. As soon as 
 the song was over he whispered something in 
 his ear. 
 
 Krackovitski knit his brows ominously. 
 
3o6 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' Have you proofs ? ' he asked. ' Are you pre- 
 pared to vouch for your facts?' 
 
 'The case is absolutely complete, as I told 
 you this morning.' 
 
 A fresh arrival now entered the room. He 
 looked uneasily about him, and after exchang- 
 ing greetings, said to Krackovitski, — 
 
 ' St Petersburg approves.' 
 
 'Good,' Krackovitski replied. He turned to 
 the company and inquired, ' We are all agreed 
 then ? ' 
 
 No one raised his voice. 
 
 ' We have not much time to lose,' Kracko- 
 vitski added in an under tone, then in a louder 
 voice he said, ' I drink to the health of our 
 absent friend ! ' 
 
 The toast was drunk in silence. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 
 
 After Platon had left her Olga remained up 
 thinking over her position. We occasionally, in 
 the course of our lives, get fits of thoughtfulness 
 during which we review our past and speculate 
 on our future. She was not in a cheerful mood. 
 What had once seemed to her a happy and 
 contented universe, ruled over by a beneficent 
 creator, appeared now to be peopled by a groan- 
 ing, pain-stricken, suffering multitude ; cursed was 
 the ground they lived on, and in the sweat of 
 their brow did they eat their bread. Injustice, 
 misery and tribulation confronted her wherever 
 she turned. The characteristics of the world she 
 lived in were wickedness, ignorance, superstition, 
 deceit and crime. Such was its present condition. 
 And the future ? Was there any hope ? Alas, 
 no ! No pleasure "and no happiness were to be 
 found on this earth, nought but work, sickness 
 and pain, and no rest but in the grave. Beyond 
 this world there was nothing, within it only 
 cruelty and misery. But where were her dreams, 
 that dedication of life to the service of humanity, 
 
 307 
 
3o8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 that regeneration of mankind to which Nihilism 
 had pointed ? That too had been found wanting ; 
 it was but a sham like everything else. Another 
 illusion had been dispelled. And Proudsorin, the 
 hero ? He had been unable to keep her en- 
 thusiasm aflame, and had fallen from his high 
 estate, a poor sorry creature. Yes, even Proud- 
 sorin had proved to be a humbug. There was 
 no solidity, no reality in his character. He was 
 a vapouring, gloomy dyspeptic, a victim of mental 
 indigestion, whose nobility of soul was nothing 
 but self-conceit and vanity. She pitied and 
 despised him ; she had once feared but she had 
 never loved him. She had divested his fine 
 phrases of their deceptive shimmer and discovered 
 them to be rotten inside, like the gilded nuts 
 which adorn the Christmas tree. Her life was 
 aimless, meaningless and sordid. Agraphia was 
 its only genuine factor. What should she have 
 done without this grand and simple old woman ? 
 Agraphia made no fine speeches, she made no 
 protestations of self-abnegation. But she slaved 
 when Olga did not see it. She was handy with 
 her needle, and she was a capital cook. The 
 house-keeping cost so ridiculously little that at 
 last Olga grew suspicious, and discovered that 
 the old woman was spending her own savings, 
 
THE DA WN OF A NE W DA Y 309 
 
 the little money she had hoarded up for years. 
 It was with great difficulty that Olga at last 
 obtained permission to help her in the house- 
 work. Proudsorin contributed to the expenses, 
 and they were able to make both ends meet ; 
 but it was a hard soul-destroying life. 
 
 Before all things Olga was a woman, and the 
 true woman cannot shut herself up in the prison 
 of her own despair, she must give course to the 
 well-spring of affection in her, and so she tried 
 to do good among the poor. But it was heart- 
 breaking work, for she had neither faith nor 
 hope in it. What was the use of it all ? She 
 was not a true Nihilist, and her chance meeting 
 with Vassilieff had suddenly awakened in her the 
 consciousness of the fact. 
 
 Who indeed are the true Nihilists ? Where 
 are they ? Nobody knows. Of all nations in the 
 world the Russians are perhaps the most vaguely 
 speculative. A new idea, an attractive sophism, 
 need but be put before them to be eagerly 
 snapped up. This is largely due to the intel- 
 lectual youthfulness of the country, the ignorance 
 of the masses, the consequent conceit of the 
 educated, and particularly to the prohibition of 
 a free discussion of all questions of vital interest. 
 To educated men and women who arc forbidden 
 
310 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 to think, and who are made to feel the crushing 
 effects of bureaucratic government, the absolute 
 negation of everything which that bureaucracy- 
 has maintained for the last two centuries is 
 a refreshing reaction, almost an intellectual 
 necessity. 
 
 The first Nihilist, if Byron's view be right, 
 was Cain. But, to trace effects to their immediate 
 causes, the true founder of Russian Nihilism was 
 Peter the Great, who set at defiance the historical 
 traditions of his country, imported his statesmen 
 wholesale from abroad, and effected the most 
 radical revolution that has ever been known. 
 By his high-handed methods he unsettled his 
 people, and gave Russia the impetus which will 
 inevitably send her rolling, through misery and 
 revolution perhaps, to a glorious freedom. 
 
 Of that glorious freedom, Olga, in her little 
 datchia at Bogorodski, could not even discern 
 the dawn. That evening as she sat thinking 
 over the past, over her strange meeting with 
 Vassilieff, over the insufficiency and emptiness 
 of her life, she began to question herself whether 
 after all the cause she had embraced was the 
 true one. Whether that strange sentient thing 
 we call consciousness, that imperative I within 
 her, which seemed to have a separate existence 
 
THE DA WN OF A NE W DAY 311 
 
 from her corporeal body, was really only the pro- 
 duct of her nervous organisation, an unsubstantial 
 phantom which would dissolve and perish when 
 her body was cold and lifeless. 
 
 While Olga was listening to the still small 
 voice within her, Vassilieff was pouring forth his 
 soul to Goloobotchkin. 
 
 Goloobotchkin had what he modestly called 
 his study in Platon's villa. It was a temple 
 devoted to the Muses, among whom a tenth 
 (unknown to the ancients) held an important 
 place: this was the Muse of Idleness. In this 
 study Goloobotchkin practiced his ravishing solos 
 on the double-bass. Here he wrote those 
 beautiful verses which were not to be published 
 until after his death, and which he would occa- 
 sionally recite to his intimate friends, though, 
 for the matter of that, all his friends were in- 
 timate. When he was in certain moods it was 
 dangerous to enter his study. These were his 
 moods of poetic inspiration, when he would be 
 discovered reclining on his couch, a cigarette in 
 his mouth and a pen in his hand, the floor strewn 
 with paper, and a small table in front of him, 
 looking all too slight and unsubstantial for the 
 weight of his genius. Nobody ever caught him 
 in the act of writing. lie toyed with his pro- 
 
312 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ductions and seemed to be gambolling in the 
 pasturages of his luxuriant fancy. The intruder 
 would be instantly pounced upon, and made to 
 listen to the recital of the exquisite literary gems. 
 The genius would watch him all the time to see 
 the effect of the grander passages, while the 
 victim would force a sickly smile of hypocritical 
 admiration to play upon his lips until they 
 quivered from the strain. 
 
 But Goloobotchkin was a versatile genius : he 
 was a painter and a musician as well as a poet. 
 Sometimes he would play his own compositions, 
 and sometimes he would be engaged in group- 
 ing his models ; for Goloobotchkin required 
 models. The subjects he generally chose for his 
 brush were classical. He was perpetually ar- 
 ranging groups of pretty girls attired in the 
 becoming garb of the three Graces, and would 
 then retreat and admire them. But unfortunately 
 models are made of course, vulgar, human clay, 
 and their souls did not respond to his artistic 
 raptures. Even models cannot stand in picturesque 
 poses for ever, and even models like to see some 
 work as the result of their trouble. But work 
 and drudgery are incompatible with the artistic 
 temperament, and Goloobotchkin made no pro- 
 gress with his pictures. Thus his artistic soul 
 
THE DA WN OF A NE W DAY 313 
 
 pined and languished in a cold Philistine world, 
 for the models would often leave him in a 
 huff. 
 
 It was into this study that Vassilieff had the 
 hardihood to burst on his return from his in- 
 terview with Olga. He there found Alyesha 
 seated composedly smoking a cigarette. 
 
 ' And what success attended you, Platon ? ' 
 Goloobotchkin asked languidly. 
 
 'Splendid success! You have guided me to 
 my star ! I am head over ears in love, madly 
 in love ! She is magnificent ! ' 
 
 * And so you are in love at last, really in love ! 
 And is this the effect it has on you ? Is it 
 possible that that ennobling and refining passion 
 can call forth such barbaric raptures? When 
 shall Russians become refined ? ' 
 
 ' Never, I hope,' Vassilieff rejoined, ' if refine- 
 ment means languor and sickly sentimentality. 
 Russians are a vigorous race ; long may their 
 hearts throb with manly emotions, may they 
 never succumb to false refinement ! ' 
 
 ' What nonsense you talk, Goloobotchkin,' said 
 Alyesha, wearily. 'We are always more or less 
 in love, sometimes with an actress, sometimes 
 with our neighbour's wife, and always with our- 
 selves. Man's normal condition is to be in love.' 
 
314 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' Let us talk of Olga/ said Goloobotchkin, * the 
 sweet charmer, the humanizing influence. Is she 
 a Nihilist?' 
 
 ' I am afraid so. She has very original ideas, 
 and she does not believe in anything. She is 
 a regular atheist. But she has excellent manners ; 
 the manners of a princess.' 
 
 * You have not wasted your time, I see. But 
 if she be an atheist, that looks bad in one so 
 young. Of course the superstitious beliefs of the 
 vulgar are degrading. But the religion of the 
 sentiments, the worship of beauty, the adoration 
 of nature, these it is horrible to be without. It 
 is only given to the cultured to possess that 
 higher aesthetic religion, but to have no kind of 
 religion at all must be sad.' 
 
 ' Go to the devil with your culture and 
 aestheticism ! Thank God she has nothing of that 
 about her. I am in love with the girl, Goloo- 
 botchkin, and I do not want my wife to be con- 
 ceited and disagreeable.' 
 
 * What ! Are you going to marry her, Platon ? 
 Do not make a fool of yourself, my dear fellow ! ' 
 said Goloobotchkin, in great alarm. 
 
 Goloobotchkin always feared that Platon's mar- 
 riage might mean banishmicnt to him. What is one 
 man's meat is too often another man's poison. 
 
THE DA WN OF A NE W DA V 315 
 
 * Then she is not the wife of the man with 
 the hang-dog expression ? ' Goloobotchkin in- 
 quired. 
 
 * No ; she told me she was not married.' 
 
 ' Only his mistress, I suppose. Fancy marrying 
 another man's mistress ! Platon, you are an 
 altruist ! ' 
 
 ' I don't think she is anybody's mistress,' Vas- 
 silieff replied sternly. 
 
 ' A regular knight of the Middle Ages ! I dare 
 say you are ready to break a lance in the vindica- 
 tion of her fair name already ? ' 
 
 ' Goloobotchkin is tiresome to-day,' said Alyesha. 
 ' Have you heard the news ? Schultze has been 
 murdered ! ' 
 
 ' What ? The gallant riding-master ? The 
 chap who dined here the other day and went to 
 Bogorodski with us? Surely not?' Vassilieff 
 was completely taken back. 
 
 ' That innocent, harmless, stupid man ? ' said 
 Goloobotchkin, in amazement. * Surely nobody 
 would take the trouble to murder him, he was 
 such a fool ! God always protects fools ! ' 
 
 ' Well, I heard it this afternoon at the club,' said 
 Alyesha. ' It is not in the papers yet, but I am 
 positive that it is true. He was found dead in 
 his bed this morning, with a dagger sticking in 
 
3i6 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 his body. A piece of paper was attached to the 
 dagger, with the words, " for treachery," written on 
 it, and a skull and cross-bones on it. It seems 
 that Schultze was in the pay of the police. That 
 is why he was so ubiquitous, and the belief is that 
 he has been done to death by the Nihilists. The 
 affair is most mysterious. There is no clue to the 
 murderers. His servant is an honest sort of fellow, 
 and no suspicion attaches to him.' 
 
 Vassilieff remembered Olga Michaelovna's sus- 
 picions, and her asking him when she might expect 
 a visit from her father ? He also called to mind 
 how anxious Herr Schultze had been to accompany 
 them to Bogorodski, and compared this with the 
 curious fact that although he had pretended not 
 to know her, the lady had clearly recognised him, 
 and had avoided him. Could she be implicated 
 in the murder? The thought was horrible. 
 
 *A11 these Nihilists should be hung in a row 
 along the principal streets,' said Alyesha, senten- 
 tiously. 
 
 ' I quite agree with you,' Goloobotchkin rejoined : 
 ' they are pestilent people. I have no sympathy 
 with them, for they possess neither refinement nor 
 taste, and their vulgar self-assertion is disgusting.' 
 
 ' Do not be one-sided,' Vassilieff answered. * We 
 may not approve of them or their creed, or the 
 
THE DA WN OF A NEW DAY 317 
 
 means they adopt, but nevertheless they are 
 heroes. They sacrifice their lives for their 
 opinions, and they are sowing the germs of 
 freedom amongst us.' 
 
 * All bosh,' said Alyesha. ' Why don't they go 
 about their business and do their work without 
 fuss, instead of worrying their heads about things 
 they do not understand ? We don't want free- 
 dom. What is the use of it ? What has it done 
 for other countries ? Produced revolution and 
 proletarianism. We are very comfortable as we 
 are, and the less politics we have the better.' 
 
 'Platon is half a Nihilist himself,' Goloobotchkin 
 exclaimed. * Poor Schultze ! Gone to his last rest ! 
 Poor fellow ! I wonder what fate awaits him — a 
 Turkish paradise, a classical elysium, or the 
 barbaric hell of the Middle Ages ? ' 
 
 The rumour proved to be correct. Herr Schultze 
 had met his fate in the gruesome manner reported. 
 Moscow, all Russia, was appalled at the act. 
 General Balvanoff, who knew more of the inner 
 history of the affair than his position of Police 
 Prefect would have led one to suppose, was par- 
 ticularly uneasy. Was his turn coming next ? 
 He set his cumbrous machinery going ; it worked 
 at high pressure, and audibly creaked under the 
 strain ; but the stupidity of the police has always 
 
 X 
 
3i8 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 been the salvation of the Nihilists. Nothing was 
 discovered. 
 
 Vassilieff, when he read the case in the papers 
 on the following morning, secretly determined to 
 call on Olga in the course of that day, in order to 
 satisfy his mind, as far as he could, whether she 
 had had any hand in the murder. It was not 
 pleasant to be in love with a murderess. But, 
 little as he suspected it, the murder of Herr 
 Schultze really heralded the dawn of a new day, 
 both for him and for Olga. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 GOO D-B Y E ! 
 
 Vassilieff had not left Olga long, and she had 
 been alone with her thoughts for scarcely a quarter 
 of an hour, when Proudsorin came in. He looked 
 tired and haggard, his eyes were feverish and rest- 
 less, and his lips were livid. He sat down in front 
 of Olga and stared at her vacantly. 
 
 ' And it is for her sake ! ' he murmured. ' Who 
 would have believed it ? That I should play the 
 fool to please a cold and heartless woman ! That 
 I should become a love-sick idiot ! ' 
 
 ' What is the matter with you, Proudsorin ? You 
 look so wild and strange. Are you ill? Where 
 have you been ? ' 
 
 'What do you care? If I were to tell you I 
 had been risking my life for you, you would mock 
 me. We men are cowards ! You turn up your 
 aristocratic nose at this plebeian dross. But what is 
 the good of talking ? You have no heart ! You are 
 as cold as marble, and as passionless as a rock.' 
 
 ' Proudsorin, you have been drinking again,' said 
 Olga, reproachfully and sadly. 
 
 319 
 
320 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' I must do something to lay the devil that is 
 tormenting me within. Ha ! ha ! Yes, I have 
 been drinking — drinking deep. It was a grand 
 draught, a sweet draught ! It is splendid to forget 
 oneself, and to do something. At last I have done 
 something. Hush ! I must not talk ! I must 
 not betray myself, or she will shrink from me. 
 You won't loathe me, will you? Kiss me, and 
 tell me you will not shrink from me. I did it for 
 your sake. Hush ! Not a word ! ' and he looked 
 round uneasily. 
 
 Olga rose to her feet and pointed to the door. 
 
 * Proudsorin,' she said, ' you are drunk. Go to 
 bed!' 
 
 Proudsorin looked at her with admiration. 
 
 ' How magnificent you are ! You are always 
 regal ! But do not spurn me. Kiss me before 
 I go ; it is the last time that I ask you.' 
 
 Olga remained impassive, and only repeated 
 haughtily, — 
 
 * Leave the room ! ' 
 
 He looked into those large black eyes, and 
 met her stony glance. He quailed before it, like 
 a whipped cur he slunk away. 
 
 Presently Olga heard him moaning in his room, 
 and then there was a thud as though something 
 had fallen. She ran to fetch Agraphia, and the 
 
GOOD-BYE 321 
 
 two women entered Proudsorin's chamber, to find 
 him lying prostrate on the ground, his face as pale 
 as death. With much difficulty they lifted him up, 
 undressed him and put him to bed. He was quite 
 unconscious, and only occasionally opened his eyes 
 and stared at them wildly. 
 
 ' Leave him in bed like that,' said Agraphia, 
 when they had, after much difficulty, got him 
 there ; * he will be all right to-morrow. My 
 husband used often to be in this condition when 
 he was drunk, but he always got right in the 
 morning. There is nothing the matter with him.' 
 
 Olga gave a sigh of relief, and retired with a 
 shudder. 
 
 The next morning, when Olga got up. Agraphia 
 told her that he was still fast asleep. Over her tea 
 and lemon she glanced at the paper, which she 
 always read every morning. Suddenly her eye 
 saw something that chained her attention. She 
 read with breathless interest. Then she jumped 
 up and rushed into the kitchen where Agraphia 
 was busy, and screamed, — 
 
 * Herr Schultze has been murdered ! Look, read ! ' 
 
 Agraphia read the graphic and sensational 
 account, and then put her finger to her lips 
 and said, — 
 
 'Hush! child!' 
 
322 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 ' Do you think he knows anything about it ? ' 
 Olga asked, pointing in the direction of Proud- 
 sorin's room. 
 
 But Agraphia only answered, — 
 
 ' Calm yourself, keep quiet. We can do nothing, 
 and we know nothing.' 
 
 Proudsorin's voice could now be heard calling 
 for Agraphia. With a gesture enjoining silence, 
 she hurried to his room, but soon returned, a 
 worried look on her face. 
 
 ' He wants to see the paper,' she said, ' and he 
 wants me to go and fetch Dr Krackovitski.' 
 
 ' I do not like to be left alone with him,' said 
 Olga, with a shudder. 
 
 *No; I shall send a cab for the doctor. I 
 suppose he must see the paper.' 
 
 While they were discussing there was a ring 
 at the bell. Olga trembled. ' I am so frightened,' 
 she said ; ' perhaps it is the police.' 
 
 But it turned out to be Krackovitski. 
 
 ' Is Mr Proudsorin at home ? ' Olga heard him 
 ask. ' I want to see him.' 
 
 He remained closeted for half-an-hour with his 
 patient. When he came out his face wore its 
 usual jovially malevolent expression. 
 
 Olga came forward to see him. 
 
 ' Our friend is not well,' he said pleasantly, ' but 
 
GOOD-BYE 323 
 
 we shall soon cure him. He has a bad fever, and 
 his temperature is all wrong. I think you must 
 let me take him away. He must be well cared for, 
 and he will be better in a hospital than here. A 
 trifling ague, if neglected,' he added, with a pleasant 
 smile, ' may end very badly. I am going to take 
 him away at once. And, by the way, if you have 
 any letters from him or from friends of his, I 
 should advise you to destroy them. There is 
 always a danger from infection ; besides, burnt 
 letters can tell no tales. Personally, I think a 
 little change of air would be beneficial to you 
 also. You look as though you required it.' 
 
 ' Am I to understand — ' 
 
 ' Dear Olga Michaelovna,' said Krackovitski, in- 
 terrupting her, 'pray understand nothing. The less 
 you understand the better. But if I might be per- 
 mitted to make a suggestion, I should advise you 
 to go back to Volkovo, and forget all about every- 
 thing. This kind of life does not suit you, I can 
 see ; as a doctor, it is my duty to recommend rest.' 
 
 Olga understood him. 
 
 ' I am afraid I have been the cause of a great 
 deal of trouble and mischief to no purpose.' 
 
 ' My dear young lady, do not worry yourself 
 about such matters. Believe me, I have given 
 you good advice ; act on it. Would you like to 
 
324 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 see Proudsorin before he goes? He is not 
 delirious, and I think he wishes to see you.' 
 
 With an anxious feeling at her heart, Olga 
 entered, with loathing, the chamber of the man 
 whom she had once regarded as her hero. 
 
 It was not a pleasant sight that greeted her. 
 Stretched upon his bed lay the form of Proudsorin, 
 livid and ghastly. His eyes were wild and de- 
 moniacal, his blue lips quivered. He looked like 
 a madman. 
 
 ' Olga ! Olga ! Cruel Olga ! I am dying. I 
 want to say good-bye. Krackovitski has told 
 me the worst. It is all over. I am going to 
 feed the worms. I am going to fertilize the 
 ground. Heaven? If I meet Schultze there I 
 shall kick him out. I am not going to sing 
 stupid psalms to a miserable Deity who is unable 
 to keep in order the ugly universe he has so 
 carelessly created. A Deity who has to be 
 flattered and toadied to by brainless angels 
 with useless wings at their shoulders. Ha ! ha ! 
 I hope they won't make an angel of me. It 
 must be very cold in Heaven, and then one is 
 not allowed even a sheepskin. No, I would rather 
 be a warm and jolly devil. But no, that is all 
 nonsense. Dust I am and to dust I shall return. 
 What was the cause of my existence ? Possibly a 
 
GOOD-BYE 325 
 
 potato, and a potato I may possibly become again. 
 There is no hereafter, no future ! No ! no ! only 
 an eternal present. I shall soon be dissolved, 
 distributed, and if God is going to come to judge 
 the quick and the dead, and wishes to judge me, 
 he had better make haste about it. Soon his in- 
 genuity will be powerless to put me together 
 again. Yes, I am happy to say, I die without 
 fear and without hope. Do I though? Do I 
 really believe in nothing? Of course I do. Yet 
 life is sweet. It is hard to be effaced. Good-bye, 
 Olga ! Will you not kiss me before I die ? No ! 
 Proud and haughty to the last ! Well, before 
 leaving, let me see — yes ! I want to give you some 
 advice. Go back to Volkovo, to your princely 
 father and princely mother, and forget all this. 
 In Volkovo you can do good among the peasantry ; 
 here you are wasted. Besides, you are a source of 
 danger. We can and do protect our friends, but 
 once at Volkovo you will be safe and will require 
 no protection. Then there is that eternal money 
 question. You cannot support yourself; besides, 
 there is no occasion for it. And now Krackovitski 
 will take me away. What is called my life must 
 not become extinct here. I am going to die in 
 some quiet place, without noise or fuss, like a dog. 
 I have been a fool. I have loved you, I love you 
 
326 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 now. To love is irrational, illogical, foolish, but I 
 could not help it. You have treated me as women 
 always treat the fools that love them. Forgive me 
 for taking you out of your aristocratic nest. It 
 was a mistake. I do not mean to say that you are 
 not fit to serve a great cause ; you are noble and 
 true-hearted, but you are proud and cold. You 
 cannot forget yourself for an abstraction. You are 
 not made of the clay they make fanatics and 
 martyrs of And after all, what does it matter? 
 Why should you be a martyr ? What is the use 
 of it all ? It is all nonsense. You are a sweet, 
 noble, beautiful woman, and that is enough. Go 
 back to Volkovo and live out your noble and 
 beautiful life according to your natural instincts, 
 for natural instincts are our destiny, and forget 
 this nightmare, Forget that you ever knew me.' 
 
 Olga was overcome with the manliness of 
 Proudsorin's farewell, and could not restrain her 
 tears. When he had finished speaking she took 
 his cold and livid hand in hers and kissed it. 
 
 ' And is it for my sake that you have sacrificed 
 your life ? Do not say so ! Forgive me, if I 
 have seemed harsh and cruel to you. I could 
 not help it. Love is not at our beck and call, 
 and I could not have given myself to you un- 
 less I could have given you my love also.' 
 
GOOD-BYE 327 
 
 * Olga, you are an honest and true woman. I 
 do not reproach you, it is myself that I blame for 
 having been a fool.' 
 
 'But you are not going to die. No, you will 
 live. Tell me, doctor, he won't die ! ' 
 
 ' We must all die,' said Krackovitski ; ' but I 
 do not think Proudsorin need die yet. There is 
 every reason to hope for his speedy recovery.' 
 
 ' He is lying to you,' said Proudsorin, quietly. 
 ' I am going to die. What is there to live for ? 
 I am not indispensable, so I can afford to con- 
 sult my own convenience.' 
 
 His meaning was but too clear. He intended 
 taking his life. Olga, when she had grasped 
 the purport of his words, suddenly grew pale, 
 put her hand to her heart and fainted away. 
 Krackovitski caught her in his arms and carried 
 her into her room, Proudsorin moaning mean- 
 while, — 
 
 ' I am a brute, a fool, I am not fit to live ! I 
 have killed her with my disgusting brutality ! ' 
 
 With the aid of Agraphia, Krackovitski speedily 
 succeeded in restoring Olga to consciousness. 
 Leaving her with her nurse he returned to Proud- 
 sorin's room. 
 
 ' We must make haste or the blood-hounds of 
 the police may get on our scent' 
 
328 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 * How is she ? Is she all right ? ' Proudsorin 
 asked nervously. 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! She is all right. She has a magnifi- 
 cent constitution,' Krackovitski replied somewhat 
 impatiently. Proudsorin now rose, and Kracko- 
 vitski proceeded to help him to dress. 
 
 ' I feel very weak,' said Proudsorin. ' I think 
 it is beginning to work.' 
 
 ' Very likely,' Krackovitski rejoined laconically. 
 * But make haste. It must not happen here.' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! That would never do ! I wonder 
 what will become of her ? ' 
 
 * Don't worry yourself about that. She will go 
 back home, depend on it.' 
 
 ' Be careful, Krackovitski, she is such a strange 
 girl. She is not like other women. You will 
 look after her, Krackovitski ; you promise me 
 that ? You will see she does not starve ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes. I promise, come along.' 
 
 * Yes, come along. Time is short. It must not 
 happen here.' 
 
 And Proudsorin staggered out of the front door 
 on Krackovitski's arm. It was noon, the heat 
 was oppressive, and there was nobody about. 
 Some distance off stood a carriage. Into this 
 Proudsorin managed to get. Krackovitski re- 
 turned to the datchia for the small valise which 
 
GOOD-BYE 329 
 
 contained all Froudsorin's effects. He carried 
 it to the carriage, which drove away rapidly in 
 the opposite direction to Moscow, towards Pok- 
 rofifski Razoomovski, where is the Agricultural 
 College, the students of which have ever been 
 noted for their wild and rebellious attitude to- 
 wards the ruling powers. 
 
 As they drove off, Krackovitski took a last 
 glance at the Bogorodski datchia, and as he 
 looked he saw the tall figure of a well-dressed 
 man go up the steps and ring the bell. 
 
 ' As to an Amurat an Amurat succeeds,' 
 Krackovitski muttered cynically to himself. 
 
 The figure was that of Vassilieff. He saw the 
 carriage, but paid little heed to it, beyond notic- 
 ing how rapidly it became enveloped in the dust 
 raised by the horses' hoofs. Presently it was 
 completely shrouded from view, until only a 
 cloud of dust remained, which gradually di- 
 minished until it became but a speck, and then 
 even that disappeared, leaving no trace behind it. 
 
 Thus Proudsorin passed out of Bogorodski and 
 of life, away into the mysterious unknown. Where 
 he went to, what became of his body, these things 
 arc mysteries. He simply vanished from off the 
 face of the earth. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 When Vassiliefif rang the bell of Olga's datchia 
 and was finally admitted, to learn that its mis- 
 tress was desolate and despondent, he very 
 unconventionally offered her the shelter of his 
 own home, which, of course, she indignantly 
 rejected. The matter was compromised by his 
 finding her a refuge under the roof of his good- 
 natured aunt, who at first regarded with 
 proper detestation the wicked opinions poor 
 Olga had embraced. But she had what neither 
 Olga's mother nor Madame Dobroff possessed, 
 namely, a heart, and her pity for the desolate 
 and forlorn condition of this beautiful and 
 amiable girl soon got the better of her sense 
 of the proprieties, and so she completely won 
 Olga's affections. She soon discovered the 
 sterling qualities of her character, and became 
 quite unreasonably impatient for Vassilieff to 
 marry her ; nevertheless, with the tact of a true 
 woman, she did not obtrude her secret hopes 
 upon the girl, and even humoured her in her 
 
 330 
 
CONCLUSION 331 
 
 attempts to earn a livelihood by giving lessons. 
 In these efforts Olga was materially assisted 
 by Vassilieff, who appointed her headmistress 
 to the school which he maintained in connection 
 with his factory. 
 
 Gradually he got her to take a less pessimistic 
 view of life. He insisted that science, by 
 showing nature to be governed by laws, con- 
 firmed the existence of the Deity ; and that 
 the old miraculous conception of the world was 
 really less consistent with a belief in an All- 
 Wise Ruler of the universe, than the present 
 orderly and scientific one. Materialism could 
 not explain anything; it was the science of 
 effects, not of causes. Sensation could not 
 account for consciousness and life. Inanimate 
 matter could not produce impressions. There 
 must be a soul to use the delicately adjusted 
 nerves and muscles with which we see and hear 
 and work, and by means of which we are able 
 to discern and use the objects which surround 
 us. To believe in a mysterious protoplasm is 
 quite as difficult and more illogical than to 
 accept simply the beliefs of our fathers, adapting 
 them to the altered conditions of the times. 
 For, after all, though truth was eternal, our con- 
 ception of it varied, just as the sun produced 
 
332 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 different colours in different plants. The super- 
 stitions of the Middle Ages were but incrusta- 
 tions, the inevitable expressions of human wick- 
 edness, prejudice, and imperfection, yet the truth 
 shone through, perhaps with a dim and obscure 
 light, nevertheless it was perceptible to all who 
 wished to see and had not been blinded. 
 
 And so Olga was gently led back to hope 
 and happiness; her heart lovingly responded 
 and opened out to him with fuller tenderness. 
 
 One bright September day, as they were 
 walking under the trees — which still retained 
 their rich brown foliage — of Petrovski Park, he 
 asked her the momentous question which he 
 had longed to ask ever since he had set eyes 
 on her. She trustingly placed her hand in his, 
 looked into his manly face, and then gently 
 nestled close to him. A glow of happiness 
 suffused his brow ; in the exaltation of the 
 moment, forgetful of where they were, he clasped 
 her in his arms. 
 
 The world and its troubles had ceased to 
 exist for them, but they were rudely brought 
 back to a consciousness of the mundane by the 
 loud barking of a dog. A large and ferocious 
 animal suddenly sprang upon them. To Vassi- 
 lieff's surprise, Olga, instead of being terrified, 
 
CONCLUSION 333 
 
 put her arms round the dog's neck, hugged him 
 affectionately, and cried, — 
 
 'Barboss! Barboss ! My dear old Barboss!' 
 
 The dog wagged his tail with ridiculous fury, 
 alternately barking and caressing her. Vassilieff 
 was completely dumbfounded. Recovered from 
 his fright, he burst out laughing. 
 
 But the group was now joined by an old 
 gentleman, who seemed to take a more irate 
 view of affairs, and shouted out in a voice 
 choking with passion, — 
 
 'And who the devil are you, sir? What the 
 devil are you doing with my daughter ? Do 
 you know, sir, that I am Prince Obolenski, and 
 that this young lady is a princess, and not to be 
 kissed in public places like a common grisette?' 
 
 Olga fortunately came to the rescue, for 
 Vassilieff was getting angry. 
 
 ' Papa, let me introduce you to my affianced 
 husband, Platon Ivanovitch Vassilieff.' 
 
 'The devil he is? Your affianced husband? 
 And have I nothing to say in the matter? 
 How am I to know whether he is a proper 
 person to marry you ? Who the devil are you. 
 Monsieur Vassilieff? ' 
 
 ' An honest man, sir,' Vassilieff replied proudly. 
 
 ' Oh ! there are many of these so-called 
 Y 
 
334 ^ RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 honest men running about loose in the world 
 who ought to be in the lock-up by rights.' 
 
 * Papa, I owe everything to him. If it were 
 not for him I should have starved.' 
 
 'And serve you right, you wicked girl, for 
 causing your parents so much grief,' said Prince 
 Obolenski, relenting somewhat. 'But who the 
 devil are you, Mr — What d'you — call 'em ? ' 
 
 'Surely you must have heard of the cotton- 
 spinner, Vassilieff, Papa?' 
 
 'What! Are you Vassilieff, the millionaire?' 
 
 'You have guessed my title, prince!' 
 
 ' My dear sir, I beg ten thousand pardons 
 for my rudeness. But you will understand and 
 forgive a parent's feelings. I am delighted to 
 make your acquaintance, sir. Will you give me 
 the pleasure of shaking you by the hand? 
 There, that's right. I am truly grateful to 
 you for having rescued my scapegrace daughter.' 
 
 'And now, may I hope to have your consent 
 prince?' said Vassilieff. 
 
 'Well, really, all this is so sudden. Olga 
 had better come home with me at once, and 
 then you can call, and, and — ' 
 
 Just as he was making this diplomatic speech, 
 a very much perfumed and rather highly-coloured 
 lady rustled past them in a silken dress and lace 
 
CONCLUSION 335 
 
 petticoats, which the curious could have observed, 
 for she had slightly raised them, gathering her 
 skirts in one hand, in order the better to display 
 a very handsome pair of lacquered boots, which 
 fitted closely round her shapely ankles. 
 
 As this lady passed the group she almost 
 imperceptibly nudged the prince, and then 
 turned her head with a little leer, showing a 
 set of very perfect teeth. 
 
 Prince Obolenski became visibly uneasy. 
 Vassilieff, who instantly recognised the lady 
 as a newly imported cafe cJiantant artiste, 
 gallantly came to the prince's rescue. 
 
 * I think, sir, that it would perhaps be as 
 well for your daughter to return, for the present 
 at least, to my aunt's house, where she is now 
 staying. When you have made arrangements 
 to receive her, she can always join you.' 
 
 *Oh! Is she staying with your aunt?' said 
 Prince Obolenski, much relieved, and pleased 
 to hear that the proprieties were being observed. 
 ' I am very glad that she is in such good hands. 
 To-morrow I will do myself the pleasure of 
 calling on the good lady and thanking her, 
 and then we shall talk over things.' With these 
 words he made a note of the aunt's address, 
 kissed his daughter, took leave of Vassilieff, and 
 
336 A RUSSIAN WILD FLOWER 
 
 hurried off in the direction which the artiste had 
 taken, who had left a trail of cJiypre behind her. 
 But Barboss refused to follow him. That saga- 
 cious animal remained glued to Olga's side. 
 
 When Platon and Olga, escorted by Barboss, 
 drove along the Chaussee on their homeward 
 journey, they overtook a one-horse victoria with 
 a princely coronet on the panel behind, in which 
 they beheld, comfortably seated, like a couple 
 of turtle doves, the prince and the perfumed 
 lady. The poor old gentleman was caught 
 unawares, but both Olga and Platon pretended 
 not to see him. Nevertheless he admired the 
 elegance of Platon's turn-out, and began to ask 
 himself whether after all a tactful millionaire 
 might not be a desirable son-in-law. 
 
 The next day he called upon the aunt and 
 found her living in a well-appointed house, where 
 Olga had every comfort and care, and he wisely 
 concluded to leave her there. Indeed it would 
 have puzzled him to have known what to do 
 with his daughter had he insisted on taking 
 her away. To have taken her to his own small 
 apartment would have been more than incon- 
 venient, and to have carried her off then and 
 there to Volkovo would have been a bore ; there 
 would have been scenes with the mother and 
 
CONCLUSION 337 
 
 all kinds of fatigues. Besides, Prince Obolenski 
 was not so sure that she would have stayed 
 there ; he did not want the scandal of a second 
 disappearance, and, moreover, he had reasons of 
 his own for not wishing to leave Moscow just 
 then. Into these we will not inquire. Suffice 
 it to say that Prince Obolenski, after a lengthy 
 interview with Platon, with whose house he was 
 charmed, finally acquiesced in the inevitable 
 and telegraphed the news to his wife. 
 
 So Princess Olga Obolenski married the tactful 
 millionaire, and she has not regretted it. She 
 is rehabilitated in society, for which she cares 
 little. Both she and her husband do much 
 good among the poor in a quiet and unosten- 
 tatious way. There are several little Vassilieffs 
 who look upon Agraphia as their own particular 
 property. Olga's mother has not forgiven her 
 daughter at heart, although she has made a 
 pretence of doing so. But the prince is charmed 
 with his son-in-law, who continues tactful and 
 convenient. Barboss is dead, but Sasha has 
 become a fine fellow and a gallant officer. 
 Goloobotchkin is still languishing in this 
 Philistine world, but is very fat and bald. 
 
 THE END 
 
Colston <S^ Company Ltd., Printers, Edinburgh- 
 
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