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But in spite of all Vassily Ivanovitch's tact, Rogatchov dimly felt that he, Olga's betrothed and future husband, had somehow become as it were an outsider to her... but in the boundless goodness of his heart, he was afraid of wounding her by reproaches, though he sincerely loved her and prized her affection.
Poor Pavel Afanasievitch fell dead: Lutchinov's sword stabbed him to the heart... The door gave way; old Rogatchov burst into the summerhouse, but Vassily had already jumped out of window... Two hours later he went into Olga Ivanovna's room... She rushed in terror to meet him... He bowed to her in silence; took out his sword and pierced Pavel Afanasievitch's portrait in the place of the heart.
And this gentleman, to whom I have not the honour of being related, is a certain Pavel Afanasiitch Rogatchov, serving nowhere, as far as I'm aware.... Kindly take note of the hole in his breast, just on the spot where the heart should be.
He took all this trouble, not so much from sympathy for Olga Ivanovna, as from a natural bent and liking for bustle and agitation.... Besides, he was beginning to be sick of Olga Ivanovna, and more than once after a violent outbreak of passion for her, he would look at her, as he sometimes did at Rogatchov. Lutchinov always remained a riddle to every one.
But all at once the door opened, and the old nurse, Efimovna, utterly distracted, broke into the room, fell on her knees before Rogatchov, and clasped his legs.... 'My little master! she wailed, 'my nursling... what is it you are about? Will you be the death of us poor wretches, your honour? Sure, he'll kill you, darling!
In those days, in the words of my grandmother, 'such refinements were not the thing. Olga soon got used to her betrothed, however; it was impossible not to feel fond of such a gentle and amiable creature. Rogatchov had received no education whatever; his French consisted of the one word bonjour, and he secretly considered even that word improper.
Vassily turned back quickly, snatched her hand, whispered in her ear, 'Rely on me, and don't betray us, and at once withdrew.... 'Bourcier! he called, running swiftly down the stairs, 'Bourcier! A quarter of an hour later he was sitting in his carriage with his valet. That day the elder Rogatchov was not at home. He had gone to the district town to buy cloth for the liveries of his servants.
'I won't marry her, whispered Rogatchov, and he shut his eyes, and shook all over. Afanasey Lukitch began banging at the door of the summerhouse. 'You won't? shouted Vassily. Rogatchov shook his head. 'Well, damn you, then!
Eroshka came in, and trembling, gave Rogatchov a wretched old sword in a torn leather scabbard. In those days all noblemen wore swords with powder, but in the steppes they only put on powder twice a year. Eroshka moved away to the door and burst out crying. Pavel Afanasievitch pushed him out of the room.
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