Sherlock Holmes in Russia

‘That poor coachman. It was such an unexpected gift. He threw himself at the count’s feet. But at this moment the train drew into the station. We bought tickets, handed in our luggage and got into a separate compartment. We travelled for two, maybe two and a half days. The count calmed down at once and became gentle and cheerful. In this way, we arrived in Kharkov. We put up in a hotel for two days, at the end of which the count announced to me that I was enrolled in a really good boarding school where he would take me. The next day he took me to Madam Beckman’s boarding school, where he bade me farewell, asking me to behave and study well, so that he shouldn’t have to blush for me. And then he left. Nobody knew where. I didn’t see him till I was in the seventh grade. Nobody visited me. I had no relatives. During school holidays I stayed with one of my schoolmates. The count paid the school fees meticulously. He sent me affectionate letters and so much pocket money I was thought to be one of the richest pupils in the school. Up until the fifth grade I thought he was my father. But once, suddenly, when I was already in the fifth grade, he revealed in a letter what I have told you about my origins. Except he added that, God grant, my fate would soon be changed and I would find my real parents. He also enclosed his portrait. The letter disturbed me considerably and I wept over it night after night. I was astounded by the thought that the count, in effect, was a total stranger where I was concerned. We southern girls develop too early and it was possible that even then I began to think as a woman. But at the time, I was not aware of it. I kept on looking at the portrait the count had sent me. The count was a very handsome man. Another two years passed. I was a good student and already in the seventh grade. Once, I was summoned to reception. There was the count! My first instinct was to throw myself round his neck, but suddenly it came to me, he is a man and a stranger. I stopped in confusion. But he looked at me in rapture, as if astonished by what he saw before him. Even then I understood that glance. After that, his visits became more frequent. He behaved like a relative, and yet, like a stranger also. At Christmas he came to fetch me and we went to Paris. We travelled about for a month and he brought me back. I finished seventh grade. Some decision had to be made as to what to do with me. The count avoided his own estate and never even mentioned it. As for me, I was at a loss; what was I to do? But just before I graduated, my fate was decided. After the final exam, I was allowed leave. I remember that day as if it were now … we took a picnic basket and went out into the country. In a little forest glade we spread a carpet, lit a fire, and cheerfully set about preparing lunch. After lunch, seeing that there was just the two of us, the count sat down beside me and said seriously, “I have to talk to you, Irra.” My heart began to beat faster and, involuntarily, I dropped my eyes. He began, “I don’t want to keep you in a state of uncertainty, Irra. Soon we have to part forever.” I screamed and fell unconscious. When I opened my eyes, the count was bending over me. Oh! His eyes gazed at me with such silent love, that everything within me began to quiver with joy. I threw my arms round his neck and covered him with kisses, begging him not to leave me, swearing I was ready for anything! He asked very solemnly, “Do you love me, Irra?” “Yes,” I said. “And I love you too,” he said passionately. “That means we will be man and wife. But so that you shouldn’t reproach me in the future, I must tell you everything and the reasons why I wanted to part from you. I am being dishonourable. First, I should have returned you to your parents. Nor am I as good as you think I am. I have one sin on my conscience, a very considerable one—” But here I placed my hand over his mouth and asked him never to bring such matters up again. In the end, we decided to get married first and then, some time, to visit my parents. “Believe me, there is nothing mercenary in my seeking to marry you,” said the count to me. I burst out laughing. Two months later we were wed and lived happily in total harmony. That’s the story of my life. Not long before his death, the count got a letter from somewhere. It plunged him into such a fit of anxiety that for some time he went about as if he had been driven mad. Then suddenly he announced that he had to go to Kazan to sell the house and estate. “Whatever happens to me, don’t worry,” he said to me on parting, “Whatever happens will be for the best.” And away he went. That’s all I can tell you, Mr Holmes.’

The countess fell silent and large tears appeared in her eyes.

VI