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Rapid, too, was the change in my position, that is to say in the position in which I had been placed for a few days against my own will…. No sort of will was found among Ivan Matveitch’s papers, not a line written for my benefit. At once every one seemed in haste to avoid me…. I am not speaking of Mr. Ratsch… every one else, too, was angry with me, and tried to show their anger, as though I had deceived them.

One Sunday after matins, in which he invariably officiated at the altar, Semyon Matveitch sent for me. Till that day I had seen him by glimpses, and he seemed not to have noticed me. He received me in his study, standing at the window. He was wearing an official uniform with two stars. I stood still, near the door; my heart was beating violently from fear and from another feeling, vague as yet, but still oppressive. ‘I wish to see you, young lady,’ began Semyon Matveitch, glancing first at my feet, and then suddenly into my eyes. The look was like a slap in the face. ‘I wished to see you to inform you of my decision, and to assure you of my unhesitating inclination to be of service to you.’ He raised his voice. ‘Claims, of course, you have none, but as… my brother’s reader you may always reckon on my… my consideration. I am… of course convinced of your good sense and of your principles. Mr. Ratsch, your stepfather, has already received from me the necessary instructions. To which I must add that your attractive exterior seems to me a pledge of the excellence of your sentiments.’ Semyon Matveitch went off into a thin chuckle, while I… I was not offended exactly… but I suddenly felt very sorry for myself… and at that moment I fully realised how utterly forsaken and alone I was. Semyon Matveitch went with short, firm steps to the table, took a roll of notes out of the drawer, and putting it in my hand, he added: ‘Here is a small sum from me for pocket-money. I won’t forget you in future, my pretty; but good-bye for the present, and be a good girl.’ I took the roll mechanically: I should have taken anything he had offered me, and going back to my own room, a long while I wept, sitting on my bed. I did not notice that I had dropped the roll of notes on the floor. Mr. Ratsch found it and picked it up, and, asking me what I meant to do with it, kept it for himself.

An important change had taken place in his fortunes too in those days. After a few conversations with Semyon Matveitch, he became a great favourite, and soon after received the position of head steward. From that time dates his cheerfulness, that eternal laugh of his; at first it was an effort to adapt himself to his patron… in the end it became a habit. It was then, too, that he became a Russian patriot. Semyon Matveitch was an admirer of everything national, he called himself ‘a true Russian bear,’ and ridiculed the European dress, which he wore however. He sent away to a remote village a cook, on whose training Ivan Matveitch had spent vast sums: he sent him away because he had not known how to prepare pickled giblets.

Semyon Matveitch used to stand at the altar and join in the responses with the deacons, and when the serf-girls were brought together to dance and sing choruses, he would join in their songs too, and beat time with his feet, and pinch their cheeks…. But he soon went back to Petersburg, leaving my stepfather practically in complete control of the whole property.

Bitter days began for me…. My one consolation was music, and I gave myself up to it with my whole soul. Fortunately Mr. Ratsch was very fully occupied, but he took every opportunity to make me feel his hostility; as he had promised, he ‘did not forget’ my refusal. He ill-treated me, made me copy his long and lying reports to Semyon Matveitch, and correct for him the mistakes in spelling. I was forced to obey him absolutely, and I did obey him. He announced that he meant to tame me, to make me as soft as silk. ‘What do you mean by those mutinous eyes?’ he shouted sometimes at dinner, drinking his beer, and slapping the table with his hand. ‘You think, maybe, you’re as silent as a sheep, so you must be all right…. Oh, no! You’ll please look at me like a sheep too!’ My position became a torture, insufferable,… my heart was growing bitter. Something dangerous began more and more frequently to stir within it. I passed nights without sleep and without a light, thinking, thinking incessantly; and in the darkness without and the gloom within, a fearful determination began to shape itself. The arrival of Semyon Matveitch gave another turn to my thoughts.