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I found out later that Michel had felt an aversion for Mr. Ratsch from his very first meeting with him. Mr. Ratsch tried to ingratiate himself with him too, but becoming convinced of the uselessness of his efforts, promptly took up himself an attitude of hostility to him, and not only did not disguise it from Semyon Matveitch, but, on the contrary, lost no opportunity of showing it, expressing, at the same time, his regret that he had been so unlucky as to displease the young heir. Mr. Ratsch had carefully studied Semyon Matveitch’s character; his calculations did not lead him astray. ‘This man’s devotion to me admits of no doubt, for the very reason that after I am gone he will be ruined; my heir cannot endure him.’… This idea grew and strengthened in the old man’s head. They say all persons in power, as they grow old, are readily caught by that bait, the bait of exclusive personal devotion….

Semyon Matveitch had good reason to call Mr. Ratsch his Araktcheev…. He might well have called him another name too. ‘You’re not one to make difficulties,’ he used to say to him. He had begun in this condescendingly familiar tone with him from the very first, and my stepfather would gaze fondly at Semyon Matveitch, let his head droop deprecatingly on one side, and laugh with good-humoured simplicity, as though to say, ‘Here I am, entirely in your hands.’

Ah, I feel my hands shaking, and my heart’s thumping against the table on which I write at this moment. It’s terrible for me to recall those days, and my blood boils…. But I will tell everything to the end… to the end!

A new element had come into Mr. Ratsch’s treatment of me during my brief period of favour. He began to be deferential to me, to be respectfully familiar with me, as though I had grown sensible, and become more on a level with him. ‘You’ve done with your airs and graces,’ he said to me one day, as we were going back from the big house to the lodge. ‘Quite right too! All those fine principles and delicate sentiments–moral precepts in fact–are not for us, young lady, they’re not for poor folks.’

When I had fallen out of favour, and Michel did not think it necessary to disguise his contempt for Mr. Ratsch and his sympathy with me, the latter suddenly redoubled his severity with me; he was continually following me about, as though I were capable of any crime, and must be sharply looked after. ‘You mind what I say,’ he shouted, bursting without knocking into my room, in muddy boots and with his cap on his head; ‘I won’t put up with such goings on! I won’t stand your stuck-up airs! You’re not going to impose on me. I’ll break your proud spirit.’

And accordingly, one morning he informed me that the decree had gone forth from Semyon Matveitch that I was not to appear at the dinner-table for the future without special invitation…. I don’t know how all this would have ended if it had not been for an event which was the final turning-point of my destiny….

Michel was passionately fond of horses. He took it into his head to break in a young horse, which went well for a while, then began kicking and flung him out of the sledge…. He was brought home unconscious, with a broken arm and bruises on his chest. His father was panic-stricken; he sent for the best doctors from the town. They did a great deal for Michel; but he had to lie down for a month. He did not play cards, the doctor forbade him to talk, and it was awkward for him to read, holding the book up in one hand all the while. It ended by Semyon Matveitch sending me in to his son, in my old capacity of reader.