Mascha

“ But without criticising her cousin's charms, Mascha only calls out enthusiastically and childishly: "Oh, Anna, how lovely you look--oh, how lovely! What a shame that I am not old enough to wear black!"
"Do not act as if you had never seen a well-dressed woman before," Anna whispers to her impatiently. "You behave like a village girl."
And Mascha blushes and lowers her head. During this skirmish between the two cousins, Madame Jeliagin has welcomed Bärenburg in the most friendly manner; now Anna stretches out her hand with the manner of an empress conferring a favor. ”

“ Through the plashing of the waves which sob at the feet of the old palace is heard the creaking of an approaching gondola. Mascha listens. In her solitary life a visit is an event and seldom a pleasant one. The gondola stops. A rough, deep voice speaks a few words below. Mascha starts up. Is it possible? Surely not; it is a foolish fancy which deceives her. A heavy, awkward step approaches the door. "Father!" cries Mascha, and throws herself on his breast. ”

“ Natascha had on an embroidered white dress in honor of his arrival. Mascha declared that she recognized him; at any rate, she displayed the utmost friendliness. When he took her in his arms she passed her tiny hands caressingly over his rough, wrinkled cheeks, and the old man rejoiced in the fresh young bud, and could not kiss her enough.
But the family reunion was not so happy and cheerful as Mascha had dreamed. A weight lay on all. Lensky, who formerly had never felt the slightest fatigue from travelling, was to-day so weary that his hands trembled. ”

“ It is very hard to get skulls," replies Sophie, vexedly.
But Nita does not notice that. She has taken Mascha in her arms, and caresses her like a mother who would calm an excited child. "So, dear heart, the ugly thing is gone. You can open your pretty eyes. Poor little soul!"
"Fräulein von Sankjéwitch is very good to you," now calls a young man's voice.
Nita looks up and perceives Nikolai. Evidently the little beauty is his sister. He bows, and turning to Mascha once more, he says: "And now tell Fräulein von Sankjéwitch that you are sorry to have been so ill-bred." ”

“ All at once she shudders, springs up. "What is it, Mascha?" he asks, lovingly, holding her back by the hand.
"I heard a window open--there in the house in the rear; people see me from there. I--I want to go back to the house. I cannot bear it, father," whimpers she. She wishes to free herself from him by force. Then there is a ring of the door-bell. Mascha stands still. Who is it? Is not that Nita who asks for her?
Yes! The door leading into the garden opens; Nita enters, pale, weary, but with beaming eyes. She catches the child in her arms. "Maschenka," whispers she, "all is well. ”

“ Mascha nods defiantly.
"You are very inexperienced, my little Mascha," says Anna. "You always have such a hostile manner to me that it is unusually hard for me to--h-m! how shall I express myself?--give you the enlightenment which in a certain manner, as your relative, I owe you. You do not know men as I do, dear child."
"Have you had very sad experience in this direction, poor Anna?" sighs Mascha, compassionately.
"I have had no experience, but I have observed," says Anna. "Bärenburg is a man from whom one must guard one's self. ”

“ Mascha loses patience. "Don't cough incessantly; open your mouth and speak!" calls out she, and the energetic little person stamps her foot violently.
"Do not be so angry," says Nikolai, good-naturedly. Then he takes his sister's hand in his, and looking down at her very lovingly, he says: "Yes, Mascha, I am dissatisfied with you; you have guessed rightly. Every one who really loves you must be dissatisfied with the imprudent self-will which you showed by your yesterday's prank."
"H-m! were you dissatisfied?" asks Maschenka, turning to her father, defiantly. ”

“ The words ring through Mascha's soul. And if her own mother still lived, as if she could confess what tormented her! It is not possible! There must be a mistake somewhere. He cannot be so bad; no man can be so bad! ”

“ Sitting at table with Liustig and Boris Soliviof—the proprietor of the confectioner’s shop, who had admitted me—I watched Mascha’s face as she chatted and drew tea from the shining samovar. In repose, its expression was one of infinite gentleness; yet in a moment, at a word regarding the revolutionary movement, it would change: the rosy, child-like lips would meet, the fair cheeks glow, the delicate nostrils dilate, and the eyes would flame with an enthusiasm begotten of wrong and long suffering. ”

“ And Lensky says, half vexed, half laughingly: "My daughter looks like a grown girl; really, she is, I believe, twelve years old at the most."
"Papa!" says Mascha, blushing hotly. "I did not know that it was to be Count Bärenburg when I was vexed."
"So, and that alters the case," laughs Bärenburg.
"It seems so," replies Nikolai.
But Mascha, observing that they are making merry over her naïveté, suddenly becomes very dignified and says: "It stands to reason that a man who has saved my brother's life should not be a mere casual acquaintance to me." ”

“ All have a pleasant word for Mascha, tease Lensky with some ancient reminiscence, and Mascha is pleased with their charm, with the gay mood which they have brought with them, with the great respect which they show her father. Sonia comes, but not Nita. It is a great disappointment for Nikolai. He has not yet ceased to inquire of Sophie for her friend's health, when a large, stout, handsome, painted blonde enters, a woman with too bare shoulders and too long train, a woman the sight of whom has the effect of the Medusa's head upon all the other women. ”

“ Mascha's cheeks burn with shame; she looks to the right and left, shyly and anxiously, expecting something terrible. She would like to hold the people's ears, or call to them: "Wait, have patience with him, he will surely come to himself." Before they know it, he has finished the sonata.
A moderate applause accompanies his exit. One shows him the consideration due to a celebrity. Mascha breathes freely, as after a danger passed through. All at once the hushed hand-clapping breaks forth afresh, becomes importunate, immoderate, supported by loud cries of "Bravo!" ”

“ Do not reproach yourself, even if I should die for you; it seems to me beautiful to be able to surrender my life for you. But Mascha, my angel, my treasure, do not grudge me one more happy moment before I die. Maschenka, my darling, my love--one kiss! ”

“ Your wreath must be white as my wings, and like a crown, so round and firm, a crown of thorns concealed under roses; that is the bridal wreath, thus we bind it for you poor mortals in heaven. I will bring you one from above, and will break out all the thorns for you, my treasure, my darling!" And her mother wished to spread out her wings and ascend, but she could not, her wings were broken. And she looked at Mascha with such large, helpless, sad, deathly, frightened eyes, and then turned away.
"Mother!" cries Mascha, in her sleep; "mother!" She awoke. ”

“ The sunbeam which wakes Mascha every morning lies broad and full on the carpet in her bedroom, creeps caressingly on her pillow, strokes her round white cheeks, but she sleeps soundly and sweetly, like a very young child who sleeps heavily after a great grief.
There is a knock at her door, first gentle, then louder. "Maschenka, my little dove, it is I," calls a dear, well-known voice. She does not hear. Softly Lensky turns the knob, hesitates a moment on the sill. He approaches the little white bed; there she lies sleeping so innocently, so peacefully. ”

“ But our Mascha is not frivolous; she is given to exaggeration, tender, romantic. And, between ourselves, life is so common, so boundlessly common and dirty, that it seldom affords a temptation to a truly exalted nature. ”

“ Subsequent inquiries I made fully confirmed Mascha’s solution of the mystery. It had fallen to Paul Shiryàlov’s lot to encompass the death of General Martianoff, but prompted by vengeance Pouzàtov—one of the most desperate of the Terrorists—had entered the room and assassinated the Chief of Secret Police while I was absent delivering the letter in the Avenue de l’Opéra. ”

“ He is quite indifferent to her, she persuades herself--quite, however little she can understand him. Who could? How can one say such feeling words to a girl, look at her with such tender enthusiasm, kiss her hand as he had kissed Mascha's, and then suddenly disappear, and for eight long days let nothing be heard of him? ”

“ The light of a hanging lamp falls over a table on which stand the picturesque remnants of a recently left, abundant dessert.
Suddenly a great confusion and even a painful shame overcome Mascha. Perhaps it is all not true! How can one lunch so gayly if one is in mortal danger? Shyly she turns to the door; she would like to escape. Then Bärenburg enters the room.
"Fräulein--you!" comes from his lips. But even in his startled surprise he speaks softly, evidently from prudence.
She stammers something; her voice is so choked with shame and excitement that he scarcely understands her. ”

“ As if electrified, Bärenburg rises and goes up to the piano. He has a great love for good music. The A minor rondo is his express favorite. In this composition of universal sadness, in which the purest artist soul which ever came down to us from heaven weeps over the frivolity of an entire century, Mascha's still immature but always tender and delicately shaded mastery is especially noticeable. ”

“ Mascha raised it from the pillows. It looked very charming in its white night-dress, with its delicate blond head where one could yet see the skin under the golden-brown curls.
"Give grandpa a kiss, Natascha--that is, if you are not afraid of a wet little mouth, papa," said Mascha.
"She is very large for her age," said Lensky, after he had taken the child, who did not show the slightest fear of him, in his arms.
"I believe you," replies Mascha, proudly. "But give her to the nurse. She will bore you, and, besides, she must be dressed." ”

“ I know her better than you, for I have had more opportunity to observe her, and I tell you it is really dangerous to leave Mascha with people who will trouble themselves as little about her as the Jeliagins."
"You exaggerate, you exaggerate," grumbled Lensky. "Besides, how can I help it? Shall I shut up my song-bird in a cage, in a convent or a boarding-school? I tried it. She would not bear it. What shall I do with her?"
"Take her with you," says Nikolai.
"With me! That is impossible," bursts out Lensky--"impossible! What can a widower do with a grown daughter?" ”

“ A moment before, Lensky felt an almost uncontrollable desire to throw something at Anna's head, but Mascha's burst of rage has a subduing effect on his own excitement. Not for anything in the world would he have his daughter appear to disadvantage.
"But, Maschenka," says he, gently, laying his hand on hers, "collect yourself. Anna does not mean badly. In the end it is quite indifferent whether an insignificant little thing like you has a black or a white neckband on. Restrain yourself, my little dove. ”

“ Mascha has wiped the tears from her eyes; she looks at Nita touchingly, thankfully; then smiling, with the tender roguishness which adds so much to the charm of her little personality, she says: "I am not sorry. You would not have been so kind to me if I had been polite, would you?" And with that she lays her arm somewhat shyly around Nita's neck and presses her soft lips to the young artist's smooth cheeks. "I was beside myself," says she. "Ah! I am so afraid of death! If only there was no dying!" ”

“ He closes it carefully, draws the portière over it, only that Mascha may not hear anything else offensive. Then he goes up to her bed again, and notices that she is glowing with fever. He passes his hand over her cheeks; she clutches his hand, presses it first to her mouth, and then holds it before her eyes.
"Shall I put out the light?" he asks, gently.
She nods. Then he sits by her in the dark. Ever stronger he has the feeling as if the despotic yoke of a misfortune to which he must bow because he is powerless against it, were weighing down upon him. ”

“ Before the house still stands the visitor's cab. Ever more restlessly Mascha wrings her poor little white hands; ever more reproachfully every unkind word that she has said to him comes back to her memory; her heart grows heavier. Oh! if she could only see him, at least beg his forgiveness before he dies! No, he shall not die; she cannot let it happen. Colia's farewell words come to her mind: "If you should ever be in any embarrassment, go to Fräulein von Sankjéwitch."
Yes, she will speak with her; Nita is his cousin, she knows his affairs; Nita will advise, will help. ”

“ I kiss and embrace you.
"Your faithful brother,
"Colia."
"Is there nothing but unpleasantness in the world?" sighs Mascha, upon receiving this note. "But still, what use to torment one's self?"
After she has devoted perhaps fifteen minutes to the deepest sorrow, she runs singing about the house, and makes gay little jokes.
Now it is evening, and they stand in the vestibule and await the carriage--Anna and aunt; Anna with her regal bearing and carelessly trailing draperies; Barbara with her nervous anxiety and scant, short dress. ”

“ After the dust and heat of the August day Mascha, Bounakoff, and myself were sitting at dinner in the beautiful Gardens of Catherinenhoff. With the sunset a cool wind had sprung up from the Neva, rendering Andrejeff’s Restaurant an exceedingly pleasant retreat under the clear sky and brilliant stars. At one of the small al fresco tables we were in the full enjoyment of our meal. It was a band night, and those who have visited the Russian capital know how upon such occasions the Gardens are illuminated and the tables filled by a fashionable throng of men and women. ”