NATALIA SAVISHNA
In days gone by there used to run about the seignorial courtyard
of the country-house at Chabarovska a girl called Natashka. She
always wore a cotton dress, went barefooted, and was rosy, plump,
and gay. It was at the request and entreaties of her father, the
clarionet player Savi, that my grandfather had "taken her
upstairs"--that is to say, made her one of his wife's female
servants. As chamber-maid, Natashka so distinguished herself by
her zeal and amiable temper that when Mamma arrived as a baby and
required a nurse Natashka was honoured with the charge of her. In
this new office the girl earned still further praises and rewards
for her activity, trustworthiness, and devotion to her young
mistress. Soon, however, the powdered head and buckled shoes of
the young and active footman Foka (who had frequent opportunities
of courting her, since they were in the same service) captivated
her unsophisticated, but loving, heart. At last she ventured to
go and ask my grandfather if she might marry Foka, but her master
took the request in bad part, flew into a passion, and punished
poor Natashka by exiling her to a farm which he owned in a remote
quarter of the Steppes. At length, when she had been gone six
months and nobody could be found to replace her, she was recalled
to her former duties. Returned, and with her dress in rags, she
fell at Grandpapa's feet, and besought him to restore her his
favour and kindness, and to forget the folly of which she had
been guilty--folly which, she assured him, should never recur
again. And she kept her word.
From that time forth she called herself, not Natashka, but
Natalia Savishna, and took to wearing a cap, All the love in her
heart was now bestowed upon her young charge. When Mamma had a
governess appointed for her education, Natalia was awarded the
keys as housekeeper, and henceforth had the linen and provisions
under her care. These new duties she fulfilled with equal
fidelity and zeal. She lived only for her master's advantage.
Everything in which she could detect fraud, extravagance, or
waste she endeavoured to remedy to the best of her power. When
Mamma married and wished in some way to reward Natalia Savishna
for her twenty years of care and labour, she sent for her and,
voicing in the tenderest terms her attachment and love, presented
her with a stamped charter of her (Natalia's) freedom, [It will
be remembered that this was in the days of serfdom] telling her
at the same time that, whether she continued to serve in the
household or not, she should always receive an annual pension Of
300 roubles. Natalia listened in silence to this. Then, taking
the document in her hands and regarding it with a frown, she
muttered something between her teeth, and darted from the room,
slamming the door behind her. Not understanding the reason for
such strange conduct, Mamma followed her presently to her room,
and found her sitting with streaming eyes on her trunk, crushing
her pocket-handkerchief between her fingers, and looking
mournfully at the remains of the document, which was lying torn to
pieces on the floor.
"What is the matter, dear Natalia Savishna?" said Mamma, taking
her hand.
"Nothing, ma'am," she replied; "only--only I must have
displeased you somehow, since you wish to dismiss me from the
house. Well, I will go."
She withdrew her hand and, with difficulty restraining her tears,
rose to leave the room, but Mamma stopped her, and they wept a
while in one another's arms.
Ever since I can remember anything I can remember Natalia
Savishna and her love and tenderness; yet only now have I learnt
to appreciate them at their full value. In early days it never
occurred to me to think what a rare and wonderful being this old
domestic was. Not only did she never talk, but she seemed never
even to think, of herself. Her whole life was compounded of love
and self-sacrifice. Yet so used was I to her affection and
singleness of heart that I could not picture things otherwise. I
never thought of thanking her, or of asking myself, "Is she also
happy? Is she also contented?" Often on some pretext or another
I would leave my lessons and run to her room, where, sitting
down, I would begin to muse aloud as though she were not there.
She was forever mending something, or tidying the shelves which
lined her room, or marking linen, so that she took no heed of the
nonsense which I talked--how that I meant to become a general, to
marry a beautiful woman, to buy a chestnut horse, to, build
myself a house of glass, to invite Karl Ivanitch's relatives to
come and visit me from Saxony, and so forth; to all of which she
would only reply, "Yes, my love, yes." Then, on my rising, and
preparing to go, she would open a blue trunk which had pasted on
the inside of its lid a coloured picture of a hussar which had
once adorned a pomade bottle and a sketch made by Woloda, and
take from it a fumigation pastille, which she would light and
shake for my benefit, saying:
"These, dear, are the pastilles which your grandfather (now in
Heaven) brought back from Otchakov after fighting against the
Turks." Then she would add with a sigh: "But this is nearly the
last one."
The trunks which filled her room seemed to contain almost
everything in the world. Whenever anything was wanted, people
said, "Oh, go and ask Natalia Savishna for it," and, sure
enough, it was seldom that she did not produce the object
required and say, "See what comes of taking care of everything!"
Her trunks contained thousands of things which nobody in the
house but herself would have thought of preserving.
Once I lost my temper with her. This was how it happened.
One day after luncheon I poured myself out a glass of kvass, and
then dropped the decanter, and so stained the tablecloth.
"Go and call Natalia, that she may come and see what her darling
has done," said Mamma.
Natalia arrived, and shook her head at me when she saw the damage
I had done; but Mamma whispered something in her car, threw a
look at myself, and then left the room.
I was just skipping away, in the sprightliest mood possible, when
Natalia darted out upon me from behind the door with the
tablecloth in her hand, and, catching hold of me, rubbed my
face hard with the stained part of it, repeating, "Don't thou go
and spoil tablecloths any more!"
I struggled hard, and roared with temper.
"What?" I said to myself as I fled to the drawing-room in a
mist of tears, "To think that Natalia Savishna-just plain
Natalia-should say 'THOU' to me and rub my face with a wet
tablecloth as though I were a mere servant-boy! It is
abominable!"
Seeing my fury, Natalia departed, while I continued to strut
about and plan how to punish the bold woman for her offence. Yet
not more than a few moments had passed when Natalia returned and,
stealing to my side, began to comfort me,
"Hush, then, my love. Do not cry. Forgive me my rudeness. It was
wrong of me. You WILL pardon me, my darling, will you not? There,
there, that's a dear," and she took from her handkerchief a
cornet of pink paper containing two little cakes and a grape, and
offered it me with a trembling hand. I could not look the kind
old woman in the face, but, turning aside, took the paper, while
my tears flowed the faster--though from love and shame now, not
from anger.
