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The widow Milovidoff’s house proved to be in fact just as Kupfer had described it; and the widow herself really did resemble one of Ostrovsky’s women of the merchant class, although she was of official rank; her husband had been a Collegiate Assessor.[64] Not without some difficulty did Aratoff, after having preliminarily excused himself for his boldness, and the strangeness of his visit, make the speech which he had prepared, to the effect that he wished to collect all the necessary information concerning the gifted actress who had perished at such an early age; that he was actuated not by idle curiosity, but by a profound sympathy for her talent, of which he was a worshipper (he said exactly that–“a worshipper”); that, in conclusion, it would be a sin to leave the public in ignorance of the loss it had sustained,–and why its hopes had not been realized!

FOOTNOTE: [
64]
The eighth from the top in the Table of Ranks won
by service to the state, which Peter the Great instituted.
A sufficiently high grade in that table confers hereditary
nobility; the lower grades carry only personal nobility.
–TRANSLATOR.

Madame Milovidoff did not interrupt Aratoff; it is hardly probable that she understood very clearly what this strange visitor was saying to her, and she merely swelled a little with pride, and opened her eyes widely at him on perceiving that he had a peaceable aspect, and was decently clad, and was not some sort of swindler … and was not asking for any money.

“Are you saying that about Katya?” she asked, as soon as Aratoff ceased speaking.

“Exactly so … about your daughter.”

“And you have come from Moscow for that purpose?”

“Yes, from Moscow.”

“Merely for that?”

“Merely for that.”

Madame Milovidoff suddenly took fright.–“Why, you–are an author? Do you write in the newspapers?”

“No, I am not an author,–and up to the present time, I have never written for the newspapers.”

The widow bent her head. She was perplexed.

“Consequently … it is for your own pleasure?” she suddenly inquired. Aratoff did not immediately hit upon the proper answer.

“Out of sympathy, out of reverence for talent,” he said at last.

The word “reverence” pleased Madame Milovidoff. “Very well!” she ejaculated with a sigh…. “Although I am her mother, and grieved very greatly over her…. It was such a catastrophe, you know!… Still, I must say, that she was always a crazy sort of girl, and ended up in the same way! Such a disgrace…. Judge for yourself: what sort of a thing is that for a mother? We may be thankful that they even buried her in Christian fashion….” Madame Milovidoff crossed herself.–“From the time she was a small child she submitted to no one,–she abandoned the paternal roof … and finally, it is enough to say that she became an actress! Every one knows that I did not turn her out of the house; for I loved her! For I am her mother, all the same! She did not have to live with strangers,–and beg alms!…” Here the widow melted into tears.–“But if you, sir,” she began afresh, wiping her eyes with the ends of her kerchief, “really have that intention, and if you will not concoct anything dishonourable about us,–but if, on the contrary, you wish to show us a favour,–then you had better talk with my other daughter. She will tell you everything better than I can….” “Annotchka!” called Madame Milovidoff:–“Annotchka, come hither! There’s some gentleman or other from Moscow who wants to talk about Katya!”

There was a crash in the adjoining room, but no one appeared.–“Annotchka!” cried the widow again–“Anna Semyonovna! come hither, I tell thee!”

The door opened softly and on the threshold appeared a girl no longer young, of sickly aspect, and homely, but with very gentle and sorrowful eyes. Aratoff rose from his seat to greet her, and introduced himself, at the same time mentioning his friend Kupfer.–“Ah! Feodor Feodoritch!” ejaculated the girl softly, as she softly sank down on a chair.