In vain did fancy endeavor to imagine angels with silvery wings. From behind those angels peeped inexorably the legions of Kukishevs, Lyulkins, Zabvennys, Popkovs. Lord! Was all lost? Even the ability to deceive and beguile herself? Had that been lost forever in the night revels, in wine, and in debauchery?
Yet that past had to be killed somehow, so as not to poison her blood and rend her heart.
It had to be crushed, utterly annihilated. How strange and ruthless was that which had happened!
It was impossible even to conceive of some future, of some door by which to escape from the situation, of anything at all that might occur to change things.
Nothing could occur.
And what was even more unbearable was the fact that to all intents and purposes she was already dead, with the outward signs of life yet present.
She should have ended it then, along with Lubinka. Somehow she had remained alive.
How was it that the mass of shame which had come upon her then from all sides had not crushed her?
And what an insignificant worm she must have been to have crept out from underneath that heap of heavy stones piled up on top of her!
She groaned in agony, and ran about the sitting-room, trying to kill the burning memories.
Before her eyes swam familiar images, the Duchess of Herolstein shaking a pelisse, Clairette Angot in her wedding gown with a slit in front up to her waist-line, Fair Helen with slits in front, behind and at the sides. Nothing but obscenity and nakedness. That was what her life had consisted of.
Could all that possibly have occurred?
About seven o'clock the house came to life again.
The sounds of the preparations for tea were heard, and at last came the voice of Porfiry Vladimirych.
Uncle and niece sat down at the tea table and exchanged remarks about the day just ended; but the daily happenings were scanty and so the conversation was brief.
Having taken tea and kissed Anninka on the forehead, Yudushka crept back into his den, while Anninka went into Yevpraksia's room to play cards.
At eleven o'clock the debauchery began.
Having ascertained that Porfiry Vladimirych was fast asleep, Yevpraksia set the table with various country corned meats and a bottle of vodka.
Now came meaningless and obscene songs, strumming on the guitar, and Anninka drinking between the songs and the shameless talk.
At first she drank after Kukishev's manner, coolly, with a "Lord bless us" to each glass, but then she gradually sank into gloom and began to moan and curse.
Yevpraksia looked at her and pitied her:
"As I look at you, lady," she said, "I am so sorry for you, so sorry."
"Drink with me and you won't be sorry," Anninka retorted.
"No, how can I?
They nearly chased me out of the clergy estate because of your uncle, and now if I become——"
"Well, then it can't be helped.
Let me sing you The Mustache."
She strummed the guitar again, and again came the cry, "I-akh! I-okh!"
Late at night sleep would suddenly overtake her, obliterating her past and allaying her sufferings for a few hours.
The next day, broken down, half-insane, she would again creep out from beneath the deadening load of sleep and live anew.
One of those vile nights when Anninka was singing her filthy songs to Yevpraksia, Yudushka's pale face, ghastly and harassed, appeared in the doorway.
His lips were quivering, his sunken eyes looked like sightless cavities by the light of the candle. His hands were folded for prayer.
For a few seconds he stood in front of the dumfounded women, and then slowly faced round and passed out.
_____ CHAPTER IV
There are families that are weighed down by an inevitable fate.
They are frequent among that portion of the nobility which once lived idle, useless, and uninfluential, under the wing of serfdom in all parts of Russia and is now passing its last days helpless and unprotected in dilapidated manor-houses.
In the life of these wretched families both success and failure come unexpectedly and as if by sheer accident.
Sometimes it happens that a shower of good luck, as it were, suddenly comes streaming down on such a family.
The ruined cornet and his wife, peacefully fading away in an out-of-the-way village, will suddenly be blessed with a brood of young people, strong, clean, alert, pushing, adaptable to the new conditions of life—the boys as well as the girls—in a word, "knowing ones."
The boys pass examinations with flying colors and even establish connections and procure patrons while still at school.
In the nick of time they exhibit their modesty ("j'aime cette modestie" their superiors say about them), and in the nick of time they show that they can be independent ("j'aime cette independance!") They quickly scent the direction from which the wind blows, but they never burn their bridges, so that retreat is free and easy.
These successful makers of our modern history begin with obsequious cringing, and almost invariably end with perfidy.
As to the girls, they, too, in their line, contribute to the regeneration of the family, that is, they all marry successfully and then exhibit so much tact in the art of dressing that they experience no difficulty in gaining prominent places in so-called society.
From this combination of circumstances, success fairly pours down upon the impoverished family.
The first successful members who struggle through courageously, bring up another clean generation, which is still better off because the main paths have not only been broken but also well trodden.
Other generations succeed until at last a family comes that has no preliminary struggles and deems it has an inborn right to lifelong rejoicing.
Lately, on account of a modern demand for so-called "new men" resulting from the gradual degeneration of the old men, there have been frequent instances of successful families.
Even in earlier days a comet would now and then make its appearance on the horizon, but it was a rare occurrence, the reason being that, first, there were no cracks in the wall surrounding that blissful region over the gateway to which is inscribed:
"Here pies are eaten daily," and, secondly, because in order to penetrate into that region, one had to have genuine ability.
But now quite a number of cracks have appeared and the matter of penetration is considerably simplified, since great merits are no longer demanded of the newcomer, but only "newness" and nothing else.