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Updated: May 2, 2025
He got home, and sat for a whole hour without moving from his chair, without even smoking his pipe. At last he took out a sheet of greyish paper, mended a pen, and after long deliberation wrote the following letter. 'DEAR MADAM, VASSILISSA TIMOFYEVNA! Being naturally a most inoffensive person, how could I have occasioned you annoyance?
If I have really been to blame in my conduct to you, then I must tell you: the hints of Mr. Bublitsyn were responsible for this, which was what I never expected. Anyway, I must humbly beg you not to be angry with me. I am a sensitive man, and any kindness I am most sensible of and grateful for. Do not be angry with me, Vassilissa Timofyevna, I beg you most humbly.
'Come, grumbled Onisim. 'Oh, what's that to you, Onisim Sergeitch? 'Oh, come, I tell you. 'Well, Vassilissa brought out at last, 'he's ... a gentleman. Of course ... I ... and besides; he ... you know yourself ... 'Of course I do, Onisim observed solemnly. 'Of course you're aware, to be sure, Onisim Sergeitch. ... Vassilissa was obviously becoming agitated.
'Vassilissa, you say, begs me not to come? 'Just so, your honour. When your honour came in to-day, and said what you did, that you didn't wish, you said, to visit us any more, I felt relieved, sir, that I did; thinks I, Well, thank God, how nicely it's all come about! But for that, I should have had hard work to bring my tongue to say it.... Be so good, sir.
An insolent proclamation from Pugatchéf, inviting us to surrender on peril of death, and the treachery of our Cossacks and of Chvabrine, who went over at once to the rebels, only made the commandant and his wife more resolute. "The scoundrel!" cried Vassilissa. "He has the impudence to invite us to lay our flag at his feet, and he doesn't know we have been forty years in the service!"
Vassilissa was sitting in the shop singing. There came a knock at the little pane. Vassilissa got up, went to the window, uttered a little shriek, giggled, and began whispering with some one. On going back to her place, she sighed, and then fell to singing louder than ever. 'Who was that you were talking to? Pyetushkov asked her. Vassilissa went on singing carelessly. 'Vassilissa, do you hear?
'You sit down here, Vassilissa, he said to her, 'and I'll sit here. I want to have a little talk with you. Vassilissa sat down. 'Tell me, Vassilissa, can you write? 'Write? 'Yes, write? 'No, I can't. 'What about reading? 'I can't read either. 'Then who read you my letter? 'The deacon. Pyetushkov paused. 'But would you like to learn to read and write?
See, Vassilissa, he has sketched you and me, like life! When Tiet Nikonich comes, hide yourself and make a sketch of him, and next day we will send it him, and it can hang on the study wall. What a boy you are! And you play as well as the French emigre who used to live with your Aunt. Only it is impossible to talk to you about the farm; you are still too young."
'Ivan Afanasiitch, mercy on us! wailed Onisim. 'To be sure. To be sure I will, replied Pyetushkov with a vague wave of his hand. 'I'll have mercy on you, and forgive you. I forgive every one, I forgive you, and Vassilissa I forgive, and every one, every one.
"So that you shall not forget my blessing," she went on, feeling in her pocket "You have given me two dresses, Grandmother, but who decorated my room so magnificently?" "Your fiance and Paulina Karpovna sent the things yesterday, and kept them out of your sight. Vassilissa and Pashutka hung the garlands up at daybreak. The dresses are part of your trousseau, and there are more to follow."
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