Read Ebook: Mimi's Marriage by Veselitskaia Lidiia Ivanovna Wright C T Hagberg Charles Theodore Hagberg Translator

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Ebook has 566 lines and 46934 words, and 12 pages

And so, having finished, or half finished, her studies, Mimotchka returns home a grown-up young lady, and wears long dresses.

Meanwhile mamma, having passed through the hard school of life, and knowing that her daughter will not eternally remain a butterfly, fluttering over the fields, is already occupied with the question of how to settle Mimotchka advantageously in life. Mamma dreams of finding a husband for Mimotchka, rich, in society, and in the Government service, with a title, if possible, and of good family. Mimotchka must make a brilliant marriage. All her education had been conducted with that object. Otherwise what would have been the use of paying extravagant sums to dancing and writing masters, what would have been the use of taking the girl abroad and of sending her to Mdlle. Dudu's classes? Only think what it had all cost! Yes, Mimotchka's parents could indeed say that they had spared no expense for the education and instruction of their only daughter.

Mimotchka knows all the best shops in Petersburg; perhaps even she knows the best shops in Paris, London, and Vienna besides; she knows how to spend money, knows how to dress, and how to behave in society. Now a husband must be found for her who can give her full opportunity of displaying her acquirements in all their splendour, who can surround her with becoming surroundings, and be worthy of receiving from mamma's hands that hothouse flower and plant it in the soil of married life.

Mimotchka expects it herself. She still dreams of love and of Maurice, but, all the same, she knows that the chief thing is--money: that without a carriage, without becoming surroundings, and without toilettes, she would not care about love.

... How artful young men are nowadays! How difficult it is to bring them to the point! Oh, if only Maurice had been amongst them, he would have prized Mimotchka; he would have chosen her without looking into poor papa's purse. But only try and find such a young man!

And meanwhile time flies.... The poor girl is already obliged to take quinine and iron. These intoxicating balls, these sleepless nights--all this tires her out.

And so, reader, imagine the moment when Mimotchka, her first freshness past, begins to get thin and lose her beauty; the doctor, a friend of the family, who is tired of prescribing arsenic, iron, and pepsine gratis, orders the young lady to some foreign watering-place; there is no money to be got anywhere; the dress-makers refuse to make even the simplest travelling dress on credit.... Then imagine how it would be if, at such a moment, unpleasant in itself, some catastrophe were to happen: supposing one of the parents were to fall dangerously ill, or the father be dismissed in disgrace from the service in consequence of the discovery of some unlawful transactions; or supposing he were to die, leaving his family a small pension and unpaid debts.... It matters little what it is exactly that happens.... But there is nothing to guarantee that such things will not happen.

The position of the poor women was in all respects terrible. There was literally not a copeck in the house. Mamma tore her hair and anathematised the faithless, good-for-nothing bridegroom. The aunts comforted and condoled with her, but among themselves they could not help rather blaming poor mamma.

"Of course Annette's position is awful," said Aunt Mary, "but one can't but say that she herself is to blame. What was the use of ordering such a trousseau when they were already so badly off? There is nothing to eat in the house, and Mimotchka has linen like a princess! And into whose eyes did they expect to throw dust by it?"

"Yes, of course, they themselves are to blame," agreed Aunt Sophy, "but, all the same, I am sorry for poor Mimotchka. She has been so spoilt; and who knows what yet awaits her in the future! It may end by her having to go out as a governess."

"I gave them a hundred roubles to-day," said Aunt Julia, in conclusion, "but I can't give every day. If I were only to count up all I have already given ..."

Mimotchka sulked, was capricious, and longed for some change, some way out of her present position. Mamma also longed for some way out of their difficulties, and spent her nights in prayers, tears, and dreams, either of a fresh bridegroom appearing as a deliverer, or of an unexpected inheritance, or of winning the great lottery prize of two hundred thousand roubles.

So what can be expected to happen in the life of a poor girl of nineteen? To marry a young man, as poor as herself, let us say, but honest, energetic, and loving, worthy of all love and respect, but possessing neither houses, nor lands, nor shares, nor bonds, nor having any other sources of income besides his work.... To love such a man, to become his wife, friend, and helpmate, to lay her pretty head on his shoulder, to rest her soft little hand trustingly on his strong arm, and walk with him through life's way, brightening and cheering that way for him by her love and caresses?... To bring into the worker's modest abode her beauty, her youth, and grace, to forget herself in her care for her beloved, and in her turn to become the object of another's thoughts and care and the crown of another's life?...

But, allow me.... You say that he has not any other sources of income besides his own personal work. Let us suppose that your young man works very hard--let us suppose even hard enough for Mimotchka not to have to dress like a poor creature in an old-fashioned gown. But if he were to die--in what position would she be left? If he were an elderly man, he might, at least, leave her a pension; but a young man, say, what can he leave her? Children, most likely.... What is to become of her with these unfortunate children, who inherit neither houses nor lands, who inherit nothing but work? I agree that work is in itself a capital, by the interest of which Mimotchka can profit as long as it is in her husband's hands, but if her husband were to die and the capital pass into Mimotchka's own hands, I doubt if she would be satisfied with such an inheritance.

In short, Mimotchka, any one poor is unsuited to you. Yes, and mamma would never allow you to "bring beggars into the world," as she expresses it.... And mamma has experience and knows what she says. She knows what it is to live on small means!

Another prospect: to give up all hope of marrying and to reconcile herself to the idea of becoming a useless old maid.

But supposing that she gives up the idea of marrying. How is she to live in that case? how exist if, which God forbid, her mamma were to die and there would be nobody left to look after Mimotchka's toilettes and her meals, nobody to sell and pawn things, to send away creditors, to borrow and tearfully squeeze money out of relations and friends? Mimotchka is such a child. She would be lost by herself.... Live by her work? earn her own living? become a lady-doctor, clerk, or book-keeper?... But Mimotchka has been educated with quite different ideas!...

As for medicine, we had better not mention it at all. At the mere thought, the mere recollection of Mimotchka's innocent-looking, downcast eyes, I could not bring myself to suggest such an improper occupation to her as the study of anatomy. And her nerves!... Do you know, Mimotchka is such a little coward that, every night before going to sleep, she takes a lighted candle and looks under the bed, the armchairs, and tables, so as to make quite sure that there is no Rocambole, Jack Sheppard, or dreadful beggar hidden there. She even looks in the ventilators of the stove.... She is so afraid, so afraid of everything! How could you ever accustom her to the sight of suffering, of blood, and of death?

Mimotchka neither knows how to sew nor cut out; she has never been taught to; and anyhow she could not become a dressmaker! She only knows how to cut out lamp-shades and do crochet. But then doing crochet does not bring in much.

In fact, all this talk of woman's work and woman's independence shows itself to be pure nonsense. And why argue about it when woman's calling and duties are plainly shown to her both by God and nature. She is to be a wife and a mother, the companion of man, from whose rib she was created for that purpose. Therefore, Mimotchka, wait, look out and secure a bridegroom--of course one that can be depended upon, and who has means. There is the third prospect for you, the third way out for you from your present position.

There are some husbands predestinated by Fate itself for girls like Mimotchka, for girls who are poor, but have been spoilt, brought up in luxury, and are unaccustomed to privations. There are two classes of such husbands--either rich old bachelors, who have wasted their strength, health, intellect, and senses in a stormily spent youth, wasted everything except their too easily got money, and have tried every sensation that this money can give them, except that of possessing for their "very own" an innocent young wife, to purchase which, however, it is never too late; or else there are old bachelors in the contrary position to the first, who have begun their life and career in want and privation, timid, calculating, having been obliged to deny themselves everything in youth, and having at last scraped together the desired capital by fair means or foul, and attained the longed-for rank, position, period, and age which will enable them to contract a marriage with a young and pretty girl.

Heaven was not deaf to mamma's prayers, but sent her Spiridon Ivanovitch. Through the aunts and friends the marriage was settled and interviews arranged--of course everything being conducted in the most correct manner.

Spiridon Ivanovitch may be stupid or clever, good or bad; he may be pleasing or unpleasing, ugly or handsome--all these are unimportant details; what is important and beyond a doubt is, that he is a man of substantial means, elderly, capable, and reliable; he is also bald and wrinkled, suffers from a catarrh and rheumatism, and perhaps gout besides....

Is it really possible to marry him? Mamma stands up for Spiridon Ivanovitch. Mimotchka, believe mamma; she has more experience than you; she knows what life is. But what do you know about it? From novels?... "La vie n'est pas un roman," they tell you, and you will soon be convinced yourself that they are right.

And so Mimotchka submits. She gives her consent, coquettishly laughing at Spiridon Ivanovitch and victoriously tapping on the ground with the point of her little shoe, under the heel of which she is determined to keep her future husband.

The marriage was arranged in the following manner. Aunt Julia, between visiting, vint, and the opera, somehow heard of Spiridon Ivanovitch and managed to get acquainted with him. When she was quite sure that his estate in the Government of Koursk was not mortgaged, but yielded a good income, and also that Spiridon Ivanovitch himself had not any serious entanglement , then Aunt Julia gave mamma to understand that she had something in view suitable for Mimotchka.

Vint, a game at cards in the style of whist, but much more complicated, and played a great deal in Russia.

Mamma went at once to the monastery of St. Sergius and had a Te Deum sung.

Spiridon Ivanovitch had been playing at cards; but before supper he came towards the dancing-room and stood at the door watching the dancers. He admired Mimotchka very much. That evening he was in luck and in good spirits. With the freedom of an old bachelor he loudly and openly praised the grace and loveliness of this charming doll, and even said that if he could only throw off some fifteen years from his shoulders he would make her an offer at once.

Mamma, who had been watching over Spiridon Ivanovitch the whole evening, caught these unguarded words, and her heart beat with a joyful hope.

During the mazourka, Mimotchka, by Aunt Julia's advice, chose Spiridon Ivanovitch, who was still standing at the door, and crossed the room with him amidst general enthusiasm. Every one smiled as they looked at them: either at pretty Mimotchka's fancy in choosing such an old and unattractive partner, or at Spiridon Ivanovitch's venturing to dance at his age, with his rank and with his asthma, and without knowing how, or finally because Aunt Julia's guests had guessed her intentions and greeted the couple as future bride and bridegroom--be this as it may, anyhow everyone smiled and rejoiced as they looked at them. The stout Spiridon Ivanovitch, perspiring and puffing like a steam-engine, smiled himself, and the ethereal Mimotchka also smiled.

The mazourka has figures, like a cotillion.

At supper they were seated side by side. The amiable Spiridon Ivanovitch, having frankly and rather nervously warned Aunt Julia that he was quite unaccustomed to the society of "respectable" women, and especially of innocent young girls, sat by Mimotchka's side and continued to gaze admiringly at her, playfully and most respectfully paid his addresses to her, was in fact quite taken up with her, and almost talked baby language so as to fall into the right tone and make himself understood.

Excited by the dancing and the champagne she had drunk, besides being very flattered by the attentions and admiration of this ridiculous stout man with the fringed epaulets, Mimotchka became quite lively, flushed, and talked a great deal more than usual.

Only Russian officers of staff rank wear fringed epaulets.

She told Spiridon Ivanovitch that she loved dancing, and that she had passed a very dull winter last year, because she had not gone out on account of her mourning for her papa; so that now she did so enjoy dancing again!... Then Mimotchka told him that she also loved little dogs, and that she had had such a darling of a dog, such a tiny, tiny little thing; its name was "Fanfreluche," and it had died! Mimotchka had cried a whole week. It had been the greatest sorrow of her life. She did so love that dog! And now Aunt Mary had given her another dog. It was a little larger, but also a darling, and she called it "Turlurette." ... And it could already stand on its hind legs!...

Spiridon Ivanovitch proposed the health of "Turlurette." ... Mimotchka laughed, coquetted, drank her champagne, clinking glasses with Spiridon Ivanovitch, and, her bright eyes sparkling, openly declared that she had never, never enjoyed herself so much!

And mamma looked at them from the other end of the table and was quite touched.

The next morning mamma, all in a flutter, came to see Aunt Julia and talk things over. They talked of the estates in the Government of Koursk, of the dancer and her children, and of Spiridon Ivanovitch's behaviour of the previous evening. It was decided to make a serious attack on him. Aunt Julia generously promised to help, and she managed the affair so cleverly that in some two or three weeks' time the unfortunate Spiridon Ivanovitch was caught and bound, and it only remained for him to fix the day of the wedding.

Everybody rejoiced; everybody congratulated her heartily, sincerely, and truly--wished her everything good, and repeated in chorus, "Thank God, thank God!"

And so not only the day, but the hour of the wedding is fixed....

It only remains to pin on the veil and wreath, Monsieur Gustave's services are again in requisition. He has to be hurried. It appears that the best man has already arrived. Yes, yes; he really has come. ... The bridegroom is already in the church.... It's time!

Directly, directly, Mimotchka will be ready directly. I look at her and involuntarily some emotion takes possession of me, involuntarily my thoughts run on, and I see the lit-up church, where the crowd of festively attired relations and friends are chatting and looking about them while they wait for the bride. I see the stout Spiridon Ivanovitch, resplendent with orders, his bald head shining, and wearing a new pair of fringed epaulets. Now there is a movement in the crowd, the talk ceases, all the heads are turned round. From the choir come the strains of a solemn chant, and Mimotchka appears at the threshold of the church. Uncle Theodore, wearing the ribbon of the White Eagle, gives her his arm and leads her up along the soft carpet. How pretty she is! I vow that the orange blossoms and cloud of white tulle never adorned a lovelier and more charming head.

"Approach, approach, thou pure dove." ...

But do you know what you are going to, poor dove? Think, Mimotchka; won't you stop before it is too late?...

Why?... And what is the good of thinking about it? Every one does it. Some time or other the step must be taken. It seems it must. And how can one escape from it?...

One of the highest Russian orders.

The opening words of the hymn sung in the marriage service when the bride enters the church.

But you're pale, Mimotchka; you lower your eyelashes, and the wax taper trembles in your little hand.... Are you afraid? Are you ashamed?

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