She had thought Yudushka would do for her, but now she perceived her mistake.
"The old, rotten stump, how he got round me!" ran through her mind.
"Wouldn't it be fine now to live with a real lover, young and handsome?
He would hug me and kiss me and whisper caressing words in my ear.
The old scarecrow, how did he ever tempt me?
The Pogorelka lady must have a lover, I'm sure.
That's why she gathered up her skirts and sailed away so rapidly.
And I must sit here, in a jail, chained to that old man."
Of course, some time passed before Yevpraksia mutinied openly; but once on the road of revolt she did not halt.
A storm was brewing within her, and her hatred grew each minute. Yudushka, for his part, remained in ignorance of her state of mind.
Yevpraksia began with general complaints, such as "he has spoiled my life." Then came comparisons.
"In Mazulina," she reflected, "Pelageyushka lives with her master as a housekeeper. She never does a stroke of work, and wears silk dresses.
She sits in a cosy little room doing bead embroidery.
How I hate you now, you old fright; How I hate you, I hate you!" she wound up with a cry.
In addition to this, the main cause of irritation, there was another one, one that was valuable because it could serve as a good occasion for the declaration of war against Yudushka.
It was her confinement and the disappearance of her son Volodya.
At the time of the child's removal Yevpraksia had been rather indifferent.
Porfiry Vladimirych had curtly announced that the baby had been entrusted to reliable people, and he presented her with a new shawl by way of solace.
Then life resumed its course, and Yevpraksia plunged into the mire of household affairs with greater industry than before, as if to atone for her unsuccessful motherhood.
But whether the mother feeling continued to smoulder in her, or whether it was merely a whim, at any rate, the memory of Volodka came back to her, and at the precise moment when Yevpraksia felt the breath of freedom and it began to dawn upon her that there existed another life different from that at Golovliovo.
The occasion was too good not to be taken advantage of.
"To think of what the scoundrel has done!" she reflected, trying consciously to work herself into a rage. "He has robbed me of my own child. Just as one drowns a pup in the pond."
Little by little the thought filled her mind completely.
She came to believe that she had always longed for her child passionately. Her hatred of Porfiry Vladimirych fed on this new and rapidly growing obsession.
"At least, I should have had something to amuse me now.
Volodya, Volodyushka! My dear little son!
Where are you now? He must have shipped you to some wretched peasant woman.
God curse them, the damned gentry.
They bring children in the world and then throw them like pups into a ditch, and no one takes them to account.
It would have been better for me to cut my throat than to allow that shameless old brute to outrage me."
Her hatred was now ripe. She felt a desire to vex and pester him and spoil life for him. War began, the most unbearable of wars, squabbles and provocations, and petty pricking.
It was the only form of warfare that could have subdued Porfiry Vladimirych.
_____ CHAPTER II
One morning when Porfiry Vladimirych was sitting at tea, he was unpleasantly surprised.
He was discharging masses of verbal pus, while Yevpraksia, with a saucer of tea in her hand and a piece of sugar between her teeth, was listening in silence, snorting from time to time.
Warm, fresh-baked bread had been served, and he had just begun to develop a theory of his own to the effect that there are two kinds of bread, visible bread which we eat and thereby sustain our bodies, and the invisible, spiritual bread of which we partake for the good of our soul. Suddenly Yevpraksia broke in upon his discourse most unceremoniously.
"People say Palageyushka lives so well at Mazulino," she began, turning her entire body round to the window and swinging her crossed feet with impudent nonchalance.
Yudushka was somewhat startled by the unexpected remark, but attributed no peculiar importance to it.
"In case we don't eat visible bread for a long time," he went on, "we feel bodily hunger; and if we don't partake of the spiritual bread for some length of time——"
"I say, Palageyushka certainly lives well at Mazulino," Yevpraksia interrupted again.
Porfiry Vladimirych, somewhat startled, looked at her in amazement, but refrained from scolding, evidently smelling a rat.
"If Palageyushka has a fine life, let her," he replied meekly.
"Her master," Yevpraksia kept on provokingly, "makes it nice and easy for her, he does not compel her to work, and dresses her in silk."
Yudushka's amazement grew.
Yevpraksia's words were so preposterous that he was taken completely by surprise.
"A different dress every day, one to-day, one to-morrow, and another for holidays.
She drives to church in a four-horse carriage. She goes first, and the master follows.
When the priest sees her carriage, he has the bells rung.
Then she sits in her own room.
If her master wishes to spend some time with her, she receives him in her room. And her maid entertains her, or she does bead embroidery."