Leo Tolstoy Archive
Written: 1856
Source: Text from TheAnarchistLibrary.org
Transcription/Markup: Andy Carloff
Online Source: RevoltLib.com; 2021
Having heard that the hussar officer was the son of Count fedor Turbin, Anna Fedorovna was all in a flutter.
“Oh, dear me! The darling boy! ... Daniel, run quickly and say your mistress asks them to her house!” she began, jumping up and hurrying with quick steps to the servants’ room. “Lizzie! Ustyushka! ... Your room must be got ready, Lisa, you can move into your uncle’s room. And you, brother, you won’t mind sleeping in the drawing-room, will you? It’s only for one night.”
“I don’t mind, sister. I can sleep on the floor.”
“He must be handsome if he’s like his father. Only to have a look at him, the darling.... You must have a good look at him, Lisa! The father was handsome.... Where are you taking that table to? Leave it here,” said Anna Fedorovna, bustling about. “Bring two beds — take one from the foreman’s — and get the crystal candlestick, the one my brother gave me on my birthday — it’s on the what-not — and put a stearine candle in it.”
At last everything was ready. In spite of her mother’s interference Lisa arranged the room for the two officers her own way. She took out clean bed-clothes scented with mignonette, made the beds, had candles and a bottle of water placed on a small table near by, fumigated the servants’ room with scented paper, and moved her own little bed into her uncle’s room. Anna Fedorovna quieted down a little, settled in her own place, and even took up the cards again, but instead of laying them out she leaned her plump elbow on the table and grew thoughtful.
“Ah, time, time, how it flies!” she whispered to herself. “Is it so long ago? It is as if I could see him now. Ah, he was a madcap!...” and tears came into her eyes. “And now there’s Lizzie ... but still, she’s not what I was at her age — she’s a nice girl but she’s not like that ...”
“Lisa, you should put on your mousseline-de-laine dress for the evening.”
“Why, mother, you are not going to ask them in to see us? Better not,” said Lisa, unable to master her excitement at the thought of meeting the officers. “Better not, mama!”
And really her desire to see them was less strong than her fear of the agitating joy she imagined awaited her.
“Maybe they themselves will wish to make our acquaintance, Lizzie!” said Anna Fedorovna, stroking her head and thinking, “No, her hair is not what mine was at her age.... Oh, Lizzie, how I should like you to ...” And she ready did very earnestly desire something for her daughter. But she could not imagine a marriage with the count, and she could not desire for her daughter relations such as she had had with the father; but still she did desire something very much. She may have longed to relive in the soul of her daughter what she had experienced with him who was dead.
The old cavalryman was also somewhat excited by the arrival of the count. He locked himself into his room and emerged a quarter of an hour later in a Hungarian jacket and pale-blue trousers, and entered the room prepared for the visitors with the bashfully pleased expression of a girl who puts on a ball-dress for the first time in her life.
“I’ll have a look at the hussars of today, sister! The late count was indeed a true hussar. “I’ll see, I’ll see!”
The officers had already reached the room assigned to them through the back entrance.
“There, you see! Isn’t this better than that hut with the cockroaches?” said the count, lying down as he was, in his dusty boots, on the bed that had been prepared for him.
“Of course it’s better; but still, to be indebted to the proprietress ... ”
“Oh, what nonsense! One must be practical in all things. They’re awfully pleased, I’m sure ... Eh, you there!” he cried. “Ask for something to hang over this window, or it will be drafty in the night.”
At this moment the old man came in to make the officers’ acquaintance. Of course, though he did it with a slight blush, he did not omit to say that he and the old count had been comrades, that he had enjoyed the count’s favor, and he even added that he had more than once been under obligations to the deceased. What obligations he referred to, whether it was the count’s omission to repay the hundred rubles he had borrowed, or his throwing him into a snow-heap, or swearing at him, the old man quite omitted to explain. The young count was very polite to the old cavalryman and thanked him for the night’s lodging.
“You must excuse us if it is not luxurious, Count,” (he very nearly said “your Excellency,” so unaccustomed had he become to conversing with important persons), “my sister’s house is so small. But we’ll hang something up there directly and it will be all right,” added the old man, and on the plea of seeing about a curtain, but mainly because he was in a hurry to give an account of the officers, he bowed and left the room.
The pretty Ustyushka came in with her mistress’s shawl to cover the window, and besides, the mistress had told her to ask if the gentlemen would not like some tea.
The pleasant surrounds seemed to have a good influence on the count’s spirits. He smiled merrily, joked with Ustyushka in such a way that she even called him a scamp, asked whether her young lady was pretty, and in answer to her question whether they would have any tea he said she might bring them some tea, but the chief thing was that, their own supper not being ready yet, perhaps they might have some vodka and something to eat, and some sherry if there was any.
The uncle was in raptures over the young count’s politeness and praised the new generation of officers to the skies, saying that the present men were incomparable superior to the former generation.
Anna Fedorovna did not agree — no one could be superior to Count Fedor Ivanych Turbin — and at last she grew seriously angry and dryly remarked, “The one who has last stroked you, brother, is always the best.... Of course people are cleverer nowadays, but Count Fedor Ivanych danced the ecossaise in such a way and was so amiable that everybody lost their heads about him, though he paid attention to no one but me. So you see, there were good people in the old days too.”
Here came the news of the demand for vodka, light refreshments, and sherry.
“There now, brother, you never do the right thing; you should have ordered supper,” began Anna Fedorovna. “Lisa, see to it, dear!”
Lisa ran to the larder to get some pickled mushrooms and fresh butter, and the cook was ordered to make rissoles.
“But how about sherry? Have you any left, brother?”
“No, sister, I never had any.”
“How’s that? Why, what is it you take with your tea?”
“That’s rum, Anna Fedorovna.”
“Isn’t it all the same? Give me some of that — it’s all the same. But wouldn’t it after all be best to ask them in here, brother? You know all about it — I don’t think they would take offense.”
The cavalryman declared he would warrant that the count was too good- natured to refuse and that he would certainly fetch them. Anna Fedorovna went and put on a silk dress and a new cap for some reason, but Lisa was so busy that she had no time to change her pink gingham dress with the wide sleeves. Besides, she was terribly excited; she felt as if something wonderful was awaiting her and as if a low black cloud hung over her soul. It seemed to her that this handsome hussar count must be a perfectly new, incomprehensible, but beautiful being. His character, his habits, his speech must all be so unusual, so different from anything she had ever met. All he thinks or says must be wise and right; all he does must be honorable; his whole appearance must be beautiful. She never doubted that. Had he asked not merely for refreshments and sherry but for a bath of sage-brandy and perfume, she would not have been surprised and would not have blamed him but would have been firmly convinced that it was right and necessary.
The count at once agreed when the cavalryman informed them of his sister’s wish. He brushed his hair, put on his uniform, and took his cigar-case.
“Come along,” he said to Polozov.
“Really it would be better not to go,” answered the cornet. “Ils feront des frais pour nous recevoir.” [Footnote: They will be putting themselves to expense on our account.]
“Nonsense, they will be only too happy! Besides, I have made some inquiries: there is a pretty daughter.... Come along!” said the count, speaking in French.
“Je vous en prie, messieurs!” [Footnote: If you please, gentlemen.] said the cavalryman, merely to make the officers feel that he also knew French and had understood what they had said.