Annouschka again opened the chest, and Vaninka, without shedding a tear,
without breathing a sigh, with the profound and death-like calm of
despair, leant down towards Foedor and took off a plain ring which the
young man had on his finger, placed it on her own, between two
magnificent rings, then kissing him on the brow, she said, “Goodbye, my
betrothed.”
At this moment she heard steps approaching. It was a groom of the
chambers coming from the general to ask if she were ready. Annouschka
let the lid of the chest fall, and Vaninka going herself to open the
door, followed the messenger, who walked before her, lighting the way.
Such was her trust in her foster-sister that she left her to accomplish
the dark and terrible task with which she had burdened herself.
A minute later, Annouschka saw the carriage containing the general and
his daughter leave by the main gate of the hotel.
She let half an hour go by, and then went down to look for Ivan. She
found him drinking with Gregory, with whom the general had kept his
word, and who had received the same day one thousand roubles and his
liberty. Fortunately, the revellers were only beginning their
rejoicings, and Ivan in consequence was sober enough for his sister to
entrust her secret to him without hesitation.
Ivan followed Annouschka into the chamber of her mistress. There she
reminded him of all that Vaninka, haughty but generous, had allowed his
sister to do for him. The, few glasses of brandy Ivan had already
swallowed had predisposed him to gratitude (the drunkenness of the
Russian is essentially tender). Ivan protested his devotion so warmly
that Annouschka hesitated no longer, and, raising the lid of the chest,
showed him the corpse of Foedor. At this terrible sight Ivan remained an
instant motionless, but he soon began to calculate how much money and
how many benefits the possession of such a secret would bring him. He
swore by the most solemn oaths never to betray his mistress, and
offered, as Annouschka had hoped, to dispose of the body of the
unfortunate aide-decamp.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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