The old man looked at her in perplexity.
“Yes, more wicked than I am, because you won’t forgive your daughter. You want to forget her altogether and take another child. How can you forget your own child?
How can you love me?
Whenever you look at me you’ll remember I’m a stranger and that you had a daughter of your own whom you’d forgotten, for you’re a cruel man.
And I don’t want to live with cruel people. I won’t! I won’t!”
Nellie gave a sob and glanced at me.
“The day after tomorrow is Easter; all the people will be kissing and embracing one another, they all make peace, they all forgive one another ... I know.... But you ... only you . . . ugh, cruel man!
Go away!”
She melted into tears.
She must have made up that speech beforehand and have learnt it by heart in case my old friend should ask her again.
My old friend was affected and he turned pale.
His face betrayed the pain he was feeling.
“And why, why does everybody make such a fuss over me?
I won’t have it, I won’t have it!” Nellie cried suddenly, in a sort of frenzy. “I’ll go and beg in the street.”
“Nellie, what’s the matter?
Nellie, darling,” I cried involuntarily, but my exclamation only added fuel to the flames,
“Yes, I’d better go into the street and beg. I won’t stay here!” she shrieked sobbing.
“My mother begged in the street too, and when she was dying she said to me, ‘Better be poor and beg in the street than . . .’ ‘It’s not shameful to beg. I beg of all, and that’s not the same as begging from one. To beg of one is shameful, but it’s not shameful to beg of all’; that’s what one beggargirl said to me. I’m little, I’ve no means of earning money.
I’ll ask from all.
I won’t! I won’t! I’m wicked, I’m wickeder than anyone. See how wicked I am!”
And suddenly Nellie quite unexpectedly seized a cup from the table and threw it on the floor.
“There, now it’s broken,” she added, looking at me with a sort of defiant triumph.
“There are only two cups,” she added, “I’ll break the other ... and then how will you drink your tea?”
She seemed as though possessed by fury, and seemed to get enjoyment from that fury, as though she were conscious that it was shameful and wrong, and at the same time were spurring herself on to further violence.
“She’s ill, Vanya, that’s what it is,” said the old man, “or ... or I don’t understand the child.
Goodbye!”
He took his cap and shook hands with me.
He seemed crushed. Nellie had insulted him horribly. Everything was in a turmoil within me.
“You had no pity on him, Nellie!” I cried when we were left alone. “And aren’t you ashamed? Aren’t you ashamed No, you’re not a good girl! You really are wicked!” And just as I was, without my hat, I ran after the old man, I wanted to escort him to the gate, and to say at least a few words to comfort him.
As I ran down the staircase I was haunted by Nellie’s face, which had turned terribly white at my reproaches.
I quickly overtook my old friend.
“The poor girl has been illtreated, and has sorrow of her own, believe me, Ivan, and I began to tell her of mine,” he said with a bitter smile.
“I touched upon her sore place.
They say that the wellfed cannot understand the hungry, but I would add that the hungry do not always understand the hungry.
Well, goodbye!”
I would have spoken of something else; but the old man waved me off.
“Don’t try to comfort me. You’d much better look out that your girl doesn’t run away from you. She looks like it,” he added with a sort of exasperation, and he walked away from me with rapid steps, brandishing his stick and tapping it on the pavement.
He had no idea of being a prophet.
What were my feelings when, on returning to my room, I found, to my horror, that Nellie had vanished again!
I rushed into the passage, looked for her on the stairs, called her name, even knocked at the neighbours’ doors and inquired about her. I could not and would not believe that she had run away again.
And how could she have run away?
There was only one gateway to the buildings; she must have slipped by us when I was talking to my old friend.
But I soon reflected, to my great distress, that she might first have hidden somewhere on the stairs till I had gone back, and then have slipped off so that I should not meet her.
In any case she could not have gone far.
In great anxiety I rushed off to search for her again, leaving my rooms unfastened in case she should return.
First of all I went to the Masloboevs’.
I did not find either of them at home.
Leaving a note for them in which I informed them of this fresh calamity, and begging them if Nellie came to let me know at once, I went to the doctor’s. He was not at home either. The servant told me that there had been no visit since that of the day before.
What was to be done?
I set off for Mme. Bubnov’s and learnt from my friend, the coffinmaker’s wife, that her landlady had for some reason been detained at the policestation for the last two days; and Nellie had not been seen there since that day.