That’s my opinion of her! Look at her, especially when she’s sitting alone, deep in thought: it’s something predestined, foredoomed, accursed! She’s capable of all the horrors of life and passion…she…she…but who’s that calling me?” I suddenly exclaimed. “Who’s shouting? I heard somebody shout ‘Alexei Ivanovich!’ in Russian. A woman’s voice, listen, listen!”
At that moment we were approaching our hotel. We had left the café long ago, almost without noticing it.
“I heard a woman shout, but I don’t know who she’s calling; it was in Russian. Now I can see where it’s coming from,” Mr. Astley was pointing, “it’s that woman shouting, the one sitting in a big armchair and who has just been carried up to the porch by so many footmen. They’re carrying her suitcases behind her; that means the train has just arrived.”
“But why is she calling me? She’s shouting again; look, she’s waving to us.”
“I see that she’s waving,” said Mr. Astley.
“Alexei Ivanovich! Alexei Ivanovich! Ah, Lord, what a dolt!” desperate cries came from the porch of the hotel.
We almost ran to the entrance. I reached the landing and…my arms dropped in amazement, and my feet became rooted to the stone.
Chapter IX
ON THE UPPER LANDING of the wide hotel porch, carried up the steps in a chair and surrounded by manservants and maidservants and the numerous, obsequious hotel staff, in the presence of the manager himself, who had come out to meet the exalted guest arriving with so much flurry and noise, with her own servants and with so many suitcases and valises, sat—grandmother!
Yes, it was she herself, formidable and rich, seventy-five years old, Antonida Vassilyevna Tarassevichev, a landowner and a Moscow grande dame, la baboulinka, about whom telegrams were sent and received, who was dying and did not die, and who suddenly, herself, in person, appeared like fresh snow on our heads.
She appeared, though she couldn’t walk, carried in an armchair as she had always been for the last five years, but, as was her custom, brisk, perky, self-satisfied, straight-backed, shouting loudly and commandingly, scolding everybody—well, exactly as I had had the honor of seeing her twice since the time I was taken into the general’s household as a tutor.
Naturally, I stood before her dumbstruck with amazement. But she had made me out with her lynx eyes from a hundred paces away, as they carried her up in her chair, had recognized me and called me by my name and patronymic—which, as was her custom, she had also memorized once and for all.
“And she’s the one they expected to see in a coffin, buried, and having left an inheritance,” flitted through my mind, “yet she’ll outlive us all and the whole hotel! But, God, what will become of all our people now, what will become of the general! She’ll stand the whole hotel on its ear!”
“Well, what are you doing, dearie, standing in front of me with your eyes popping out!” grandmother went on yelling at me. “You don’t know how to bow and greet a body, eh? Or you’ve grown proud and don’t want to? Or maybe you don’t recognize me? You hear, Potapych,” she turned to a gray-haired old man in a tailcoat and white tie and with a pink bald spot, her butler, who had accompanied her on her journey, “you hear, he doesn’t recognize me! They’ve got me buried! They send one telegram after another: is she dead or not? I know everything! And here, you see, I’m as alive as can be!”
“Good heavens, Antonida Vassilyevna, why would I wish you ill?” I answered cheerfully, coming to my senses. “I was only surprised…And how not marvel at such an unexpected…”
“But what’s so surprising for you? I got on the train and came. It’s a quiet ride, no jolts. You’ve been for a walk, have you?”
“Yes, I strolled to the vauxhall.”
“It’s nice here,” said grandmother, looking around, “warm, and there’s a wealth of trees. I like that. Are our people at home? The general?”
“Oh, yes! at this hour they’re probably all at home.”
“So they’ve established a schedule here and all the ceremonies? Setting the tone. I’ve heard they keep a carriage, les seigneurs russes!*23 Blew all their money and went abroad! Is Praskovya9 with him?”
“Yes, Polina Alexandrovna, too.”
“And the little Frenchman? Well, I’ll see them all for myself, Alexei Ivanovich, show me the way straight to him. Do you find it nice here?”
“So so, Antonida Vassilyevna.”
“And you, Potapych, tell that dolt of a manager to give me comfortable quarters, nice ones, not too high up, and carry my things there at once. Why is everybody in a rush to carry me? Why are they getting at me? Eh, what slaves! Who’s that with you?” she turned to me again.
“This is Mr. Astley,” I replied.
“Who is this Mr. Astley?”
“A traveler, my good acquaintance; he also knows the general.”
“An Englishman. That’s why he’s staring at me and doesn’t unclench his teeth. I like Englishmen, though. Well, drag me upstairs, straight to their place; where are they?”
Grandmother was carried; I walked ahead up the wide hotel stairway. Our procession was very impressive. Everyone who came our way stopped and looked at us all eyes. Our hotel was considered the best, the most expensive, and the most aristocratic at the spa.
On the stairs and in the corridors one always met magnificent ladies and important Englishmen. Many made inquiries downstairs of the manager, who, for his own part, was deeply impressed.
He, of course, replied to all who asked that this was an important foreign lady, une russe, une comtesse, grande dame, and that she would occupy the same suite which a week before had been occupied by la grande duchesse de N. Grandmother’s commanding and imperious figure, borne up in her chair, was the cause of the main effect.
Each time she met a new person, she at once measured him with a curious gaze, and she loudly questioned me about them all. Grandmother belonged to a large breed, and though she never got up from her chair, one could tell, looking at her, that she was quite tall. She held her back straight as a board, and did not recline in the chair.
Her big gray head, with its large and sharp features, was held erect; her glance was somehow even haughty and defiant; and one could see that her gaze and gestures were perfectly natural. Despite her seventy-five years, her face was quite fresh, and even her teeth had not suffered much. She was dressed in a black silk gown and a white bonnet.
“She interests me greatly,” Mr. Astley whispered to me, going up the stairs beside me.
“She knows about the telegrams,” I thought, “she’s also been informed about des Grieux, but it seems she still knows little about Mlle Blanche.” I immediately communicated this to Mr. Astley.
Sinful man! My first surprise had no sooner passed, than I rejoiced terribly at the thunderbolt we were about to produce at the general’s. It was as if something was egging me on, and I led the way extremely cheerfully.
Our people were quartered on the second floor. I made no announcement, did not even knock at the door, but simply thrust it open, and grandmother was carried in in triumph. As if on purpose, they were all gathered in the general’s study. It was twelve o’clock, and they seemed to be planning an excursion—some were going in carriages, others on horseback, the entire company; besides that, other acquaintances had been invited.
Besides the general, Polina with the children, their nanny, there were in the study: des Grieux, Mlle Blanche, again in a riding habit, her mother Mme la veuve Cominges, the little prince, and also some learned traveler, a German, whom I saw with them for the first time. The chair with grandmother was set down right in the middle of the study, three paces from the general. God, I’ll never forget this impression! Before we came in, the general had been telling some story, and des Grieux had been correcting him.
It should be noted that for two or three days Mlle Blanche and des Grieux had for some reason been paying much court to the little prince—à la barbe du pauvre général,*24 and the company was tuned, though perhaps artificially, to the most merry and cordially familial pitch.
At the sight of grandmother, the general was suddenly dumbfounded, opened his mouth, and stopped in the middle of a phrase. He stared at her, his eyes popping, as though spellbound by a basilisk’s gaze. Grandmother also looked at him silently, fixedly—but what a triumphant, defiant, and mocking gaze it was! They stared at each other like that for a whole ten seconds, amid the profound silence of everyone around them.
Des Grieux was petrified at first, but soon an extraordinary uneasiness flashed in his face. Mlle Blanche raised her eyebrows, opened her mouth, and gazed wildly at grandmother. The prince and the scholar contemplated the whole picture in deep perplexity. Polina’s gaze expressed great astonishment and perplexity, but suddenly she turned white as a sheet; a moment later the blood quickly rushed to her face and suffused her cheeks.
Yes, this was a catastrophe for them all! The only thing I did was shift my eyes from grandmother to everyone around and back. Mr. Astley stood to one side, as was his custom, calmly and decorously.
“Well, here I am! Instead of a telegram!” grandmother burst out at last, breaking the silence. “What, you didn’t expect me?”
“Antonida Vassilyevna…auntie…but how on earth…” the unfortunate general murmured. If grandmother hadn’t begun speaking for a few
