Contrary to myself: 3 chapter

The loss of position, the habitual way of life from birth, environment, severely affected Pavel Nikolaevich. He began to fade away quickly and soon fell down under the sudden onslaught of smallpox.
Fearing to infect the children, Maria Alexandrovna, at the time of her father’s illness, settled them in the priest’s house, and she devotedly looked after her beloved husband, although she herself risked catching the infection. The countess remained faithful to her duty and love.
      He burned quickly, in just two weeks, as if a soul, exhausted by privations and torments of conscience, did not want to linger in the body. On the last day before his death, the count ordered his wife to call his son, Alexander, to his bed. Although Maria Alexandrovna was afraid that the young man might become infected with a dangerous disease, she did not dare to refuse the last request to the dying spouse.
      Soon, a tall, dark-haired young man, pale with grief, crossed the threshold of the house and cautiously approached his father's bed. Alexander barely recognized him: this sallow, mottled face with deep wrinkles, covered with ulcers, sunken cheeks, a pointed nose could not belong to his father! Earl Buturlin has always been known as a handsome and beloved lady, his mischievous smile and deep, thrilling voice conquered more than one female heart, and his wife was worth many nights of pain and jealousy.
      But now on the bed lay a decrepit old man with matted hair, which had once been the color of the raven wing, and now had become dull gray, and their eyes were cloudy, half-closed by trembling eyelids. How could a father have changed so much in just two weeks that his son had not seen him ?!
      If the young man had any insane hope in his soul that his father would be able to recover, she immediately evaporated at the first glance cast at the patient. That was the end ...
Alexander frantically swallowed a lump that rolled to his throat and clenched his fists in impotent rage on a damned fate, which deprived him of his usual life, and now deprives his father, the main support of their family.
      How will he be left alone now? Mother and little sisters will be in his care, he, Alexander, from now on will become the head of the Buturlin family. But he was only sixteen years old just five months ago! Will he be able to? Will he be able to protect his family instead of his father?
After all, the count leaves him alone with poverty, without inheritance, without livelihood, without all that could help him to his feet! He will have to achieve everything himself, from scratch ... No one will help him, now he is an ordinary tradesman, without a title, without connections, a beggar and no one needs ...
      Now the young man felt so helpless, as if he was as much as Olenka, the youngest sister, just wanted to cry in a childish way and buried her face in her mother’s hem so that they felt sorry for him and stroked his head, comforting him.
However, innate pride did not allow him to behave like a child! By a desperate effort of will, young Alexander nevertheless managed to force himself to calm the storm in his heart and sit on the edge of his father's bed. He must listen to the last will of his father, this is his filial duty.
“Father,” Alexander carefully touched the patient by the shoulder, remembering that mother ordered not to touch the open areas of the count's body so as not to become infected. - It's me ... I came!

The earl's cloudy eyes, once sapphire blue, slowly opened. He was convinced that in front of him was really his son and again closed his eyelids, gathering his strength to talk.

“Sasha ...” came his quiet, weak voice, “You must promise me ...”

“Yes, father, anything!” - trying to restrain sobbing tearing out, the young man answered.

“Take care of your mother and sisters ... you are now left alone with them ... the last of the Buturlin family ...”

“I promise ...” Alexander whispered, clenching his fists so that his joints turned white.

“And yet ...” - the Earl hardly took a breath, words were given to him with great difficulty, “Promise ... to return our family a good name ... and position ...”

“I promise ...” the young man repeated, watching in desperation, as his father's face gradually turns pale more and more.

      Now he was ready to promise his father anything, just to postpone at least a little inexorable course of time, robbing him of his dear creature.

“Promise ...” the count continued faintly, “Promise revenge on this traitor ... Vyazemsky ... he alone is to blame ... swear ...

These were the last words of the dying. He tried to take another sigh, but could no longer - the count's body twitched convulsively and stretched out on the bed.

- I swear! - the son cried out, as if trying to shout to the deceased father. “I swear to you, father!”