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Updated: June 18, 2025
"That is spoken like my daughter," said the general, embracing her. "Farewell, Vaninka; I do not ask if you love him. You have both done your duty, and I have nothing more to exact." With these words, he rose and left the room. Annouschka was in the corridor; the general signed to her that she might go in again, and went on his way. At the door of his room he found Gregory waiting for him.
"Have you nothing to say in reply?" asked the general. "Nothing, father; but I have a favour to ask of you." "What is it?" "I do not wish to marry until I am twenty years old." "Why not?" "I have taken a vow to that effect." "But if circumstances demanded the breaking of this vow, and made the celebration of this marriage imperatively necessary?" "What circumstances?" asked Vaninka.
Luck had served Vaninka wonderfully in prompting her to say that Foedor had already gone; for not only did the general feel no surprise when he did not appear, but his very absence was a proof of his daughter's innocence. As for Vaninka, she remained out of her room till it was time to dress. A week before, she had been at the Court entertainment with Foedor.
Vaninka stood motionless, her arms crossed, brilliantly lit up by the flames, while her attendant prayed. The fire did not last long: the house was wooden, with the crevices filled with oakum, like all those of Russian peasants, so that the flames, creeping out at the four corners, soon made great headway, and, fanned by the wind, spread rapidly to all parts of the building.
Seeing the young man, she uttered a cry, and, turning to the general, said, "Father, it is Foedor"; and the expression of her voice left no doubt of the sentiment which inspired it. "Foedor!" cried the general, springing forward and holding out his arms. Foedor did not know whether to throw himself at the feet of Vaninka or into the arms of her father.
I will do everything you wish me to do. Do you not grant me a thousand times more than I dared hope, and if your father refuses me, do I not know myself that you are sharing my grief?" cried Foedor. "Yes; but that will not happen, I hope," said Vaninka, holding out her hand to the young officer, who kissed it passionately.
Vaninka, since the day when the letter came, was sadder and more melancholy than ever. Vainly from time to time the general tried to make her more hopeful. Vaninka only shook her head and withdrew. The general ceased to speak, of Foedor. But it was not the same among the household.
Like all the women of distinction in her nation, Vaninka was a good musician, and spoke French, Italian, German, and English equally well. Her features had developed in harmony with her character. Vaninka was beautiful, but her beauty was perhaps a little too decided.
This lady, instead of suppressing her pupil's scornful propensities, had encouraged them, by filling her head with those aristocratic ideas which have made the English aristocracy the proudest in the world. Amongst the different studies to which Vaninka devoted herself, there was one in which she was specially interested, and that one was, if one may so call it, the science of her own rank.
The two women uttered a loud cry: the chest was now a coffin; the young officer, stifled for want of air, lay dead within. For a long time the two women hoped it was only a swoon. Annouschka sprinkled his face with water; Vaninka put salts to his nose. All was in vain.
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