UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES (r- f )- aV \ '■ ■ih.\ RUDIN : A ROMANCE A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES THE WORKS OF IVAN TURGENIEFF RUDIN: A ROMANCE A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES PHANTOMS AND OTHER STORIES TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD PRrS-TED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS WILLEY BOOK COMPANY NEW YORK 57077 CoPTHionT, 1903, BT CHARLES SCRIBNERS SONS Printed in the United States of America ^\ CONTENTS PAGE RUDIN: A Romance 1 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES 229 RUDIN: A ROMANCE (1855) RUDIN: A ROMANCE IT was a calm summer morning. The sun al- ready stood quite high in the heavens, but the meadows were still glittering with dew; the re- cently awakened valleys breathed forth perfumed freshness, and in the forest, still damp and noise- less, the little early birds were singing blithely. On the crest of a sloping hill, covered from top to bottom with rye which had just burst into bloom, a tiny hamlet was visible. Along the nar- row countrv road, in the direction of this hamlet, was walking a young woman, clad in a white cotton gown, a round straw hat, and with a para- sol in her hand. A groom followed her at a distance. She was walking in a leisurely way, and seemed to be enjoying her stroll. Hound about, over the tall, waving rye, with a soft rustle, flowed long waves, shifting from a silvery-green to a red- dish hue. High aloft, the larks were carolling The young woman was walking from her own village, large enougli to contain a church, which RUDIN she owned, and wliicli was distant not more than a verst from the hamlet whither she was directing her way; her name was Alexandra Pavlovna Li'pin. She was a widow, childless and fairly wealthy, and she lived with her hrother, retired captain of cavalry, Sergyei Pavlitch Volyntzeff. He was not married, and managed her property. Alexandra Pavlovna reached the hamlet, halted at the outermost cottage, a very aged and lowly hut, and calling up her groom, she ordered him to enter it and inquire after the health of the house- wife. He speedily returned, accompanied by a decrepit peasant with a white beard. *' Well, what news? " inquired Alexandra Pav- lovna. " She is still alive, . . . . " said the old man. "May I enter?" *' Why do you ask? Certainly." Alexandra Pavlovna entered the cottage. It %vas cramped, and stifling and smoky inside. Some one was tossing about and moaning on the oven-bench. Alexandra Pavlovna gazed about her and descried, in the semi-darkness, the yellow and wrinkled head of an old woman bound up in a checked kerchief. Completely covered, even her chest, by a heavy peasant coat, she breathed with difficulty, feebly throwing apart her scraggy arms. Alexandra Pavlovna stepped up to the old woman and touched her fingers to the latter's brow .... it was fairly blazing with heat. 4 RUDIX "How dost thou feel, Matryona?" she in- quired, bending over the oven-bench. "O-okli!" moaned the old woman, as she stared at Alexandra Pavlovna. " Badly, badly, mv own! ]Mv hour of death has arrived, dear little dove! " " God is merciful, INIatryona; perhaps thou wilt recover. Hast thou taken the medicine which I sent thee ? " The old woman moaned painfully, but did not reply. She had not fully heard the question. " She took it," said the old man, who was stand- ing by the door. Alexandra Pavlovna turned to him: " Is there no one with her except thee? " she asked. " There is a little girl, — her grandchild, — but she is always going oif. She cannot sit still; she 's such a fidgety creature. She 's too lazy even to give her grandmother a drink of water. And I am old ; what can I do ! " " Would it not be well to bring her to me — to my hospital? " " No! why to a hospital? she will die anyway. She has lived long enough; evidently that is pleasing to God. She will never leave the oven- bench. What 's the use of taking her to a hos- pital ? As soon as you try to lift her up she will le. " Okh ! " groaned the sick woman, " beautiful lady, don't desert my orphan; our master and mistress are far awav, but thou — " 5 RUDIN The old woman fell silent. She had talked beyond her strenf>th. " Don't worry," said Alexandra Pavlovna; " everything shall be done. Here, I have brought thee some tea and some sugar. Drink some, if thou feelest like it Of course, you have a samovar? " she added, glancing at the old man. " A samovar did you say? We have no samo- var, but I can get one." " Then get it, or I will send my own. And give your granddaughter orders not to absent herself. Tell her that it is a shame." The old man made no answer, but took the package of tea and sugar in both hands. " Well, good-bj^e, Matryona! " said Alexandra Pavlovna. " I will come again to see thee, but thou must not get despondent, and thou must take thy medicine regularly " The old woman raised her hand and stretched it toward Alexandra Pavlovna. " Give me thy hand, my lady," she whispered. Alexandra Pavlovna did not give her her hand, but bent over and kissed her on the brow. " See to it," she said to the old man as she took her departure, " that you give her the medicine, without fail, as it is prescribed. And give her tea to drink " Again the old man made no reply, and merely bowed. Alexandra Pavlovna heaved a sigh of relief 6 RUDIN when she found herself in the open air. She opened her parasol and was on the point of set- ting out homeward, when, all of a sudden, round the corner of the wretched cottage, seated in a low-hung racing-drozhky, drove a man of thirty, clad in an old overcoat of grey variegated woollen homespun, with a cap of the same. On perceiv- ing Alexandra Pavlovna he immediately drew up his horse and tvu-ned his face toward her. Eroad, devoid of rosiness, with small, pale-grey eves and a whitish moustache, it was in harmony with the hue of his clothing. " Good morning," he said, with a lazy smile; "' permit me to inquire what you are doing here? " " I have been visiting a sick woman And whence come you, JNIikhailo Mikhailitch? " The man who was named JNIikhailo INIikhai- litch looked her straight in the eye, and laughed again. " You do well," he went on, " in visiting the sick ; only would n't it be better to take her to the hospital? " " She is too weak; she cannot be touched." " And you do not intend to abolish your hospital? " "AboHsh it? Why!" " Oh, because." "What a strange idea! What put that into your head ? " " Well, you are always consorting with ^Ime. 7 RUDIN T.asunsky, and, a])i)airntly, you arc under her inllucnce. And, accordino' to lier, hospitals, schools — all that sort of thing — arc nonsense, useless inventions. Benevolence nnist be per- sonal, culture ditto; 't is all a matter of soul .... tliat \s the way she expresses herself, it appears. Whose tune is she singing, I 'd like to know? " Alexandra Pavlovna biu'st out laughing. " Darya INIikhailovna is a clever woman; I am very fond of her, and I respect her ; but she may be mistaken, and I do not believe every word she utters." " And it 's a splendid thing you don't," re- torted ^Mikhailo :Mikhailitch, still omitting to de- scend from his drozhkv; "because she hasn't much faith in her own words. But I am very glad to have met you." " Why so? " " A pretty question ! As if it were not always pleasant to meet you! To-day you are just as fresh and charming as this morning itself." Again Alexandra Pavlovna began to laugh. " What are you laughing at? " " How can you ask? If you could only see with what a languid and chilly mien you uttered your compliment! I am surprised that you did not vawn over the last word." " With a chilly mien! .... You always want fire; but fire is of no use. It flares up, creates a smoke, and dies out." 8 RIJDIN "And it warms," Alexandra Pavlovna caught him up. " Yes . . . and it burns." " Well, what if it does! There 's no harm in that. Anything is better than . . . ." " Well, I 'm going to see whether you will say that after you have once been well burned," ^Mikhailo Mikhailitch interrupted her with vexa- tion, and slapped the reins on his horse's back. "Good-bye!" "Mikhailo :Mikliailitch, wait!" cried Alexan- dra Pavlovna. " When are you coming to see usf " To-morrow; remember me to your brother." And the drozhky rolled off. Alexandra Pavlovna gazed after ^likhailo ]Mikhailitch. "What a meal-sack!" she said to herself. And, in fact, bent double, covered with dust, his cap on the nape of his neck, with tufts of yellow hair sticking out from under it, he did resemble a huge flour-sack. Alexandra Pavlovna quietly wended her way homeward. She walked on witli eyes bent on the ground. The trampling of a horse's hoofs close by made her })ause and raise her liead. Her brother was coming toward her on horseback; alongside him walked a young man of sliort stat- ure in a lightweight coat thrown open on the breast, a light tie, and a light grey hat, with a 9 RtJDIN slender cane in his hand. He had ab'cady long" been smiling at Alexandra Pavlovna, although he saw that she was walking along buried in thought, taking no notice of anything, and as soon as she halted he went up to her and joyfully, almost tenderly, exclaimed: " Good morning, Alexandra Pavlovna, good morning! " "Ah! Konstantin Diomiditch, good morn- ing! " she replied. " You are coming from Darya JNIikhailovna's? " " Exactly so, ma'am, exactlj'^ so, ma'am," re- sponded the young man, with a beaming covm- tenance ; " from Darya Mikhailovna's. Darya JNIikhailovna has sent me to you, ma'am; I pre- ferred to go on foot It is such a magnifi- cent morning, and the distance is only four versts. I arrive — you are not at home, ma'am. Your brother tells me that you have walked to Semyo- novko, and he was on his way to the fields, so I walked along with him, ma'am, to meet you. Yes, ma'am. How pleasant it is! " The young man spoke Russian with purity and correctness, but with a foreign accent, although it was difficult to determine with precisely what accent. There was something Asiatic about his features. A long nose with a hump, large mo- tionless, goggle-eyes, thick red lips, a retreating brow, hair black as pitch, — all these things in him betokened an Oriental origin; but the young 10 RUDIN man's surname was Pandalevsky, and he called Odessa his native place, although he had been reared somewhere in White Russia at the expense of a wealthy and benevolent widow. Another widow had obtained a position for him in the gov- ernment service. As a rule, middle-aged ladies were very fond of playing the part of protector to Konstantin Diomiditch ; he understood how to render himself agreeable to them, to insinuate himself into their favour. He was at present liv- ing in the house of the wealthy Darya JNIikhai- lovna Lasunsky, in the capacity of an adopted son, or a visitor. He was very endearing in his manners, very obliging; susceptible and secretly sensual, he possessed an agreeable voice, played quite well on the piano, and had a habit, when he was talking with any one, of fairly riveting his eyes on him. He dressed with great neatness, and wore his clothing an extremely long time, shaved his broad chin with care, and made every hair on his head lie in its appointed place. Alexandra Pavlovna listened to his speech to the very end, then turned to her brother. " I keep meeting people to-day: just now I had a chat with Lezhnyoff ." "Ah! with him? Was he on his way some- where? " " Yes; and just imagine, in a racing-drozhky, in some sort of a Hnen bag, all covered with dust. What an eccentric fellow he is! " 11 R0DIN " Yes, possibly; only he 's a splendid man." " Wlio is tliat — Mr. Lezhnyoff ? " inquired Pandalevsky, as tliough in surprise. " Yes, ]\Iikliailo Mikhailiteli Lezhnyoff," re- plied A'olynt/elf. " But farewell, sister; it is time for me to ride to the fields; they are sowing thv buckwheat. Mr. Pandalevskv will escort thee home." And Yolyntzeff started his horse into a trot. "With the greatest pleasure!" exclaimed Konstantin Diomiditch, and offered Alexandra Pavlovna his arm. She gave him hers, and both turned into the road which led to her home-farm. Apparently it afforded Konstantin Diomiditch great satisfaction to walk arm in arm with Alex- andra Pavlovna. He stalked along with minc- ing steps, smiled, and his Oriental eyes even be- came suffused with moisture, which, however, not infrequently M^as the case with him; it cost Konstantin Diomiditch no effort whatever to be overcome with emotion and to shed tears. And who would not have found it pleasant to walk arm in arm with a pretty, young, and graceful woman? Of Alexandra Pavlovna the whole of .... Government unanimously said that she was charming; and .... Government was not mistaken. Her straight little nose alone, with its almost imperceptibly tilted tip, was enough to 12 RUDIN drive anv mortal out of his senses, not to mention her velvety-brown eyes, her ruddy-golden hair, the dimples in her plump cheeks, and other beauties. But the best thing of all about her was the expression of her lovely face : trustful, good- natured, and gentle, it touched and attracted. Alexandra Pavlovna's glance and laugh were those of a child; the ladies thought her rather simple-minded Could anything further be desired? " Darya INIikhailovna sent you to me, you said? " she asked Pandalevsky. " Yes, ma'am, she sent me, ma'am," he replied, pronouncing the letter s like an English tli} " They desired me and commanded me, without fail, urgently to request you to do them the hon- our to dine with them to-day. . . . They" (when Pandalevsky spoke of a third person, especially of a lady, he strictly kept to the plural number) — " they are expecting a new guest with whom they wish, without fail, to make you acquainted." "Who is it?" " A certain MufFel, a baron, a gentleman of the Bedchamber from Petersburg. Darya Mi- khaflovna made his acquaintance not long ago at Prince Giirin's, and expresses herself with re- ^ This /f is a respectful addition at the end of a word, representingf muhiryvyii (Madam), like tlie abbreviated "ma'am ": or, in the case of address to men, of gamtdnr, sir. Pandal<'vsky also nses the third person phiral of the verbs and pronouns, with the same object: that of showing ingratiating? respect. — Thanslatoh. 1.3 KUDIjN oarcl to him in the most laudatory terms, as an amiahlc and cultured young man. The Baron also occupies himself with literature, or, to speak more accurately .... akh, what a charming" hutterlly! permit me to call your attention to it .... to speak more accurately, with political economy. He has written an article about some very interesting question, and he wishes to submit it to the judgment of Darya INIikhailovna." " An article on political economy? " *' From the point of view of the language, ma'am, Alexandra Pavlovna, from the point of ^iew of the language, ma'am. I think you are aware that Darya Mikhailovna is an expert in that direction, ma'am. Zhukovsky was wont to take counsel with her, and my benefactor who resides in Odessa, the venerable Roksolan Me- diarovitch Ksandryka, all-worthy in good deeds .... surely, the name of that person is known to vou? " " I have never so much as heard it." " You have not heard of such a man? Amaz- ing! What I set out to say was, that Roksolan ^Slediarovitch has always entertained a very high opinion of Darya Mikhailovna's information concerning the Russian language." " But is not that Baron a jjedant? " asked Alexandra Pavlovna. " Not in the least, ma'am. Darya Mikhai- lovna declares that, on the contrary, the man of 14 RUDIN the world is immediately perceptible in him. He talked about Beethoven with such eloquence that even the old Prince experienced raptures I should have liked to hear it, I confess ; for that is in my line. Permit me to offer you this beau- tiful wild flower." Alexandra Pavlovna took the flower, and after proceeding a few paces dropped it in the road Her house was distant a couple of Iiundred paces, not more. Recently erected and whitewashed, it peeped with an air of welcome from amid the dense verdure of ancient lindens and maples with its broad, bright windows. " And so, ma'am, what do you bid me report to Darya Mikhaflovna," began Pandalevsky, slightly nettled at the fate meted out to his flower; "will you come to dinner? She invites you and your brother." " Yes, we will certainly come. And how is Natasha? " " Natalya Alexyeevna, thank God, is well, ma'am. But we have already passed the turn to Darya Mikhailovna's estate. Allow me to make my adieux." Alexandra Pavlovna stopped. — " And will you not come in?" she asked, in an undecided tone. " I should be lieartily glad, ma'am, to do so, but I am afraid of being late. 13arya Mikliai- lovna wishes to hear a new Etude by Tlialberg; 15 KUDIN so I must prepare myself and practise it. More^ over, 1 must confess 1 have some doubts as to wliether my conversation would afford you any pleasiu'e." "Yes, indeed .... why not?" .... Pandalevsky sighed, and dropped his eyes ex- pressively. " Farewell for the present, Alexandra Pav- lovna! " he said, after a brief pause, bowed, and retreated a pace. Alexandra Pavlovna turned and went home. Konstantin Diomiditch also wended his way homeward. All sweetness instantly vanished from his countenance; a self-confident, almost harsh expression made its appearance thereon. Even the gait of Konstantin Diomiditch under- went a change; he now took longer strides, and trod more heavily. Pie had traversed a couple of versts, flourishing his cane in a free-and-easy manner, when, all of a sudden, he again began to smirk ; he had caught sight, by the roadside, of a young, tolerably comely peasant lass, who was driving the calves out of the oats. Konstantin Diomiditch, as warily as a cat, approached the girl and entered into conversation with her. At first she made no answer, then flushed up and began to laugh, and at last covered her lips with her sleeve, turned away, and said: " Go along, master, really . . . ." RUDIN Konstantin Diomiditch menaced her with his finger and ordered her to bring him some corn- flowers. " What dost thou want with corn-flowers? art thou going to weave wreaths? " retorted the girl; " come now, go along, I mean it . . . ." " Hearken, my amiable little beauty," began Konstantin Diomiditch .... " Come now, be ofl* with you," the girl inter- rupted him; "yonder come the young gentle- men." Konstantin Diomiditch glanced round. In fact, Vanya and Petya, the sons of Darya Mi- khailovna, were running along the road; they were followed by their teacher, Basistoff, a young man twentj^-two years of age, who had only just finished his studies. Basistoff* was a well-grown young fellow, with a foolish face, a large nose, huge teeth, and pig's eyes, homely and awkward, but kind, honourable and upright. He was carelessly dressed, wore his hair long, — not out of foppishness, but out of laziness, — was fond of eating, fond of sleeping, but also fond of a good book, a heated argument, and hated Pan- (lalevsky with all his soul. Diirya IVIikhaflovna's children adored Basis- toff, and also feared him not a little; he was on i'ltiniatc terms with all the other members of the Iiouscbold, which did not particularly please the 17 RUDIN mistress of the house, descant as she might on the tlienie tliat no such thing as prejudices existed for her. "Good morning, my dears!" began Kon- stantin Dioniiditch; " how early you have set out for your walk to-day! But I," he added, address- ing Basistoff, " went out long ago; my passion is to enjoy nature." " We saw how you were enjoying nature," muttered Basistoff. " You are a materialist; God only knows what you were thinking just now. I know you! " Pandalevsky, when he conversed with Basis- toff or persons like him, became somewhat irri- tated, and pronounced the letter s quite clearly, even with a slight hiss. " You don't mean to say that you were inquir- ing your way of that girl, do you? " remarked Basistoff, rolling his eyes to right and left. He felt that Pandalevsky was staring him straight in the face, and this was extremely dis- agreeable to him. " I repeat, you are a materialist, and nothing else. You insist on beholding only the prosaic side in everything. ..." "Children!" Basistoff suddenly issued his command, " do you see the silver willow yonder in the meadow ; let 's see which of you will run to it the more quickly .... one, two three!" 18 RUDIX And the boys set off, at the top of their speed, for the willow-tree. BasistofF flew after them. "Peasant!" thought Pandalevsky; "he is spoiling those horrid boys A regular peasant! " And, casting a glance of satisfaction over his own neat and elegant little figure, Konstantin Diomiditch tapped the sleeve of his coat with his wide-spread fingers a couple of times, shook his collar, and went his way. On reaching his own room he donned an old dressing-gown, and with anxious countenance seated himself at the piano. II The house of Darya IMikliailovna Lasiinsky was considered to be almost the leading one in the Government of ... . A vast stone structure, erected after drawings by Rastrelli in the taste of the past century, it rose majestically on the crest of a hill, at whose foot flowed one of the chief rivers of central Russia. Darja Mikhai- lovna herself was a distinguished and wealthy noblewoman, the widow of a privy councillor. Althouoh Pandalevsky was wont to narrate of her that she knew all Europe, and that Europe also knew her, yet Europe knew very little about her. Even in Petersburg she did not play a prominent part; on the other hand, in Moscow every one knew her and frequented her house. She belonged to the highest society, and bore the reputation of being a rather peculiar woman, not particularly amiable, but extremely clever. In her youth she had been very handsome. Poets had written verses to her, the young men had fallen in love with her, men of importance had dangled in her train. But since that time twenty- five or thirty years had elapsed, and not a trace of her former charms remained. " Is it possible," every one who beheld her only for the first time 20 RUDIN involuntarily asked himself — " is it possible that that gaunt, sallow, sharp-nosed, though not yet elderly woman ever was a beauty? Can she be the one about whom the lyres tinkled? " . . . . And every one was amazed within himself at the mu- tability of all things earthly. Pandalevsky, it is true, thought that Darya ]Mikhailovna's magnifi- cent eyes had been marvellously well preserved; but then, that same Pandalevsky asserted that all Europe knew her. Darya ]\likhailovna came every summer to her country place with her children (she had only three: a daughter, Natalya, aged seventeen, and two sons, respectively ten and nine years of age) and kept open house — that is to sa}^ she received men visitors, especially bachelors; country ladies she could not endure. In consequence, she caught it from those same ladies. Darya JNIikhailovna, according to them, was both proud and immoral, and a frightful tyrant; but the principal thing was — she permitted herself such freedom of speech that it was downright shocking. As a matter of fact, Darya JNIikhailovna was not fond of putting any restraint on herself in the country, and in the free simplicity of her demeanour there was perceptible a slight tinge of the scorn of the fashionable dame from the capital toward the decidedly uncultured and petty persons who sur- rounded her She behaved to her town ac- quaintances, also, in a very free-and-easy, even ?1 RUDIX scoffing manner, but there was not a trace of scorn. By the way, reader, have you noticed that a person who is unusually absent-minded in the society of his inferiors never is absent-minded with persons of a higher standing? Why is this? However, sucli questions lead to nothing. When Konstantin Diomiditch, having at last learned the Thalberg Etude by heart, descended from his clean and cheerfid little chamber to the drawing-room, he found the entire domestic cir- cle already assembled there. The salon had al- ready begun. The mistress of the house had set- tled herself on a broad coucli, with her feet tucked up under her, and was twirling a new French pamphlet in her hands ; by the window, over their embroidery-frames, sat, on one side, the daughter of Darya JNIikhailovna, and, on the other. Mile. Boncourt, the governess, a dried-up old spinster, sixty years of age, with scratch-wig of black hair under a motley-hued cap, and cotton-wool in her ears; in the corner near the door BasistofF had taken up his post, and was reading a news- paper; beside him, Vanya and Petya were play- ing at draughts; and leaning against the stove, with his arms folded behind his back, stood a gentleman short of stature, with rumpled grey hair, a swarthy face, and shifty little black eyes — a certain Afrikan Semyonitch Pigasoff. A strange man was this ISIr. PigasoiF. Em- '^ 22 RUDIN bittered toward ever\i:hing and everybody, es- pecially toward women, he scolded from morn- ing until night, sometimes very pertinently, sometimes quite stupidly, but always with enjoyment. His irritation went to the point of childishness; his laugh, the sound of his voice, his whole being, seemed permeated with gall. Darya ^Nlikhailovna gladly welcomed Pigasoif ; he di- verted her with his sallies. They really were rather amusing. It was a passion with him to exaggerate eveiy thing. For example: no mat- ter what calamity was mentioned in his presence, —whether he was told that a village had been set on fire by the lightning, or that a peasant had chopped his hand off with an axe, — on each oc- casion he inquired with concentrated exaspera- tion, " And what is her name? " — that is to say, what was the name of the woman who was the origin of the catastrophe; because, according to his conviction, a woman is the cause of every mis- fortune, and all that is necessary is to investigate the matter thoroughh'. One day he flung him- self on his knees before a lady with whom he was barely acquainted and who was pressing her hos- pitality upon him, and began tearfully, but with fury depicted on his countenance, to entreat her to spare him, that lie was guilty of no offence toward her, and never would be. On one occa- sion a horse ran away down hill witli one of Darva Mikhaflovna's laundresses, hurled her into 23 RUDIN a ditch, and came near killin.ittle Russian lan- guage exist? I once asked a Little Russian to translate the following phrase — the first one that came into mv head: 'Grammar is the art of read- ing and writing correctly.' Do you know how he translated it? ' Khrammyr ais the aiert of ryead- ing ynd wryaiting corrayctly.' .... Is that a language, in your opinion, — an independent lan- guage? Why, sooner than agree to that, I 'm ready to let my best friend pound me up in a mortar. ..." Basistoff w^as on the point of retorting. " Let him alone," said Darya JNIikhailovna. " Surely you know that you will hear nothing but paradoxes from him." Pigasoff smiled sarcastically. A lackey en- tered and announced the arrival of Alexandra Pavlovna and her brother. Darya JVlikliailovna rose to welcome her guests. " How do you do, Alexandrine! " she said, as she advanced to meet her. " How clever of you to come! .... How do you do, Sergyei Pavlitch!" 34 RUDIX VolyntzefF shook Darya ^Nlikliailovna's hand, and went up to Xatalya Alexyeevna. " And how about that Baron, your new ac- quaintance — is he coming to-day ? " inquired Pigasoff. " Yes, he is coming." " He 's a great philosopher; they say he fairly squirts Hegel." Darya ]Mikhailovna made no answer, seated Alexandra Pavlovna on the couch, and placed herself beside her. " Philosophy," went on PigasoiF, " is the highest point of view. That will be the death of me also; those highest points of view. And what can be seen above them? If you want to buy a horse, you would n't inspect it from a watch-tower, would you? " " That Baron was to bring you some article or other, was he not ? " asked Alexandra Pavlovna. " Yes," replied Darya JNIikhailovna, with ex- aggerated carelessness; " an article about the re- lations between trade and industry in Russia. . . . But have no fears; we will not read it here I did not invite you for that. Le harori est aiissi aimahle que savant. And he talks Russian so well! C'est tin vrai torrent . . . .il vous entraine." " He talks Russian so well," remarked Piga- soff, " tliat he deserves to be praised in French." " Grumble on, Afrikan Semyonitch, grimible 35 RUDIN on. It suits your dishevelled hair admirahly. But wliy does not he come? Do you know, mes- sieurs et mesdames? " added Darya INIikhailovna, glancing around her. " Let us go into the gar- den. . . . There is still an hour before dinner, and the weather is splendid. ..." The whole company rose and went into the garden. Darya jNIikhailovna's garden extended clear to the river. It contained many ancient linden ave- nues, with golden shadows and fragrant with emerald openings at the ends, many arbours of acacias and lilacs. Volyntzeff, with Natalya and Mile. Boncourt, betook themselves to the densest thickets of the garden. Volyntzeff walked by the side of Na- talya and maintained silence. Mile. Boncourt followed at a little distance. " AVhat have 3^ou been doing to-day? " in- quired Volyntzeff at last, twisting the tips of his very handsome, dark chestnut moustache. His features greatly resembled those of his sister; but their expression had less vivacity and life, and his handsome, caressing eyes had a somewhat melancholy look. " Why, nothing," replied Natalya. " I have been listening to Pigasoff scold, embroidering on canvas, and reading." " And what have you been reading? " 36 RUDIN " I was reading .... the ' History of the Cru- sades,' " said Xatalya, with some hesitation. VolyntzefF looked at her. "All!" he ejaculated at last; "that must be interesting." He broke off a branch and began to twirl it in the air. They walked on another twenty paces. " \^Tio 's that Baron with whom your mama has become acquainted? " Volyntzeff put another question. " A gentleman of the Imperial Bedchamber, a newcomer; maman praises him highly." " Your mama is capable of being carried away by her feelings." " That proves that she is still very young in heart," remarked Xatalya. " Yes. I shall soon send you your horse. It is almost trained. I want to have it set out on a gallop on the instant, and I shall accomplish that." " Merci! .... But I feel ashamed. You are training it yourself .... they say that is very diffi- cult," " In order to afford you the slightest gratifi- cation, you know, Xatalya Alexyeevna, I am ready .... I .... tf) do more than sucli trifles." Volyntzeff stopped short. X'atalya cast a friendly glance at him, and again said, " Merci!" 37 57077 IIUDIN " You know," went on Sergyei Pavlitch after a prolonged pause, " that there is nothing. . . . liut why do 1 say this? Surely you know it all I " At that moment a bell rang in the house. "^LJi! la cloche du diner!" cried Mile. Bon- court; " rentrons." " i^uel dommage! " said the old Frenchwoman to herself, as she mounted the steps of the bal- cony behind VolyntzefF and Natalya; "quel dommage que ce channant garfon ait si peu de ressources dans la conversation " Which may be translated into Russian thus: " Thou art very nice, my dear fellow, but rather a sorry figure." The Baron did not arrive for dinner. They waited half an hour for him. The conversation at table flagged. Sergyei Pavlitch did nothing but gaze at Natalya, beside whom he sat, and diligently pour water into her glass. Panda- levsky vainly endeavoured to interest his neigh- bour, Alexandra Pavlovna; he was all bubbling with sweetness, but she almost yawned in his face. Basistoff rolled little balls of bread and thought nothing; even PigasofF held his peace, and when Darya JNIikhailovna observed to him that he was very far from amiable to-day, he replied crustily: "When am I ever amiable? That 's not my business. . . . And, with a bitter laugh, he added : " Wait a bit. You see, I 'm kvas, 38 RUDIX du prostoi' Russian kvas ; but there 's your Gen- tleman of the Bedchamber. ..." "Bravo!" exclamied Darya jNIikhailovna. *' PigasofF is jealous — jealous in anticipation!" But PigasofF made her no reply, and only cast sidelong glances. Seven o'clock struck, and all again assembled in the drawing-room. " Evidently he is not coming," said Darya ISIikhailovna. But lo! the rumble of an equipage resounded, a small tarantas" drove up to the door, and a few moments later a footman entered the drawing- room and presented a letter on a silver salver to Darya ^likhailovna. She ran her eye over it to the end, and, turning to the lackey, in- quired : " And where is the gentleman who brought this letter? " " He is sitting in his carriage, madam. Do vou command that he shall be received, madam?" " Ask him in." The footman left the room. "Just imagine — how vexatious!" went on Darya ^likhailovna; " tlie Baron has received orders to return at once to Petersburg. lie has 1 Plain kvas is n sort of small beer, made by pniiriiitc water on sour, black rye bread, or the rye meal, lettinj? it ferment, and flavouring with raisins, straw, watermelon-juice, etc. — TnANsi,*iv>!;. 2 The Russian postinj; earria^re; sprinpless, shaped like a barrel split len;ftliwise, filled witli straw or hay. Sometimes there is a seat, sometimes not.— TRANSiJkron. 39 RUDIN sent nic liis article by a certain Mr. Riklin, his friend. The Baron wished to introduce him to me — he praised him highly. But how annoy- ing this is! I was in hopes that the Baron would spend some time here." " Dmitry Nikolaevitch Rudin," announced tlic footman. Ill There entered a man of thirty-five, tall, some- what romid-shouldered, curly-haired, swarthy of complexion, with an irregular but expressive and clever face, with a faint gleam in the quick, dark blue eyes, a straight, broad nose, and finely chiselled lips. His garments were not new, and were too tight for him, as though he had out- grown them. He walked briskly up to Darya jNIikhailovna, made her a brief inclination, told her that he had long wished to have the honour of being pre- sented to her, and that his friend the Baron greatly regretted that he was unable to take leave of her in person. The shrill tone of Riidin's voice did not cor- respond to his stature and his broad chest. " Be seated. . . I am very glad," said Darya IMikhaflovna, and, after introducing him to the entire company, she inquired whether he be- longed in the neighbourhood or had just arrived. " My estate is in the T . . . Government," re- plied Rudin, Iiolding liis hat on his knees. " I have not been here long. I came liither on busi- ness, and have settled down, for the time being, in your county town." 4.1 RUDIN "At Avliose house?" " Tlie doctor's. He was an old comrade of mine in the university." " xVh! at the doctor's. . . People speak highly of liim. They say he understands his business. And have you known the Baron long? " " 1 met him last winter in INIoscow, and now I have just been spending about a week with him." " He is a very clever man — the Baron." " Yes, madam." Darya ^likhailovna sniffed at a knot in her pocket-handkerchief which was saturated with eau de Cologne. " Are you in the service? " she inquired. "Who? I, madam?" " Yes." " No. . . I am on the retired list." A brief pause ensued. The general conversa- tion was resumed. " Permit me to be so curious as to inquire," began PigasofF, addressing Rudin, " are you acquainted with the contents of the article which the Baron has sent?" " I am." " That article deals with the relations of trade .... or no, what 's its name? — of in- dustry to trade in our fatherland. . . I believe that was the way you were pleased to express it, Darya Mikhailovna? " 42 RUDIN " Yes, it does deal with that . . ." said Darya ^likhailovna, and laid her hand on her brow. " I am, of course, a poor judge of such mat- ters," went on Pigasoff; "but I must confess that the very title of the article strikes me as ex- tremely .... how can I say it most delicately? . . . extremely obscure and confused." " Why does it seem so to you? " PigasofF grinned, and cast a fleeting glance at Darya ]Mikhailovna. " And is it clear to you? " he said, again turn- ing his foxy little face toward Rudin. "Tome? Yes." "H'm! . . . Of course you must know best about that." "Have you a headache?" Alexandra Pav- lovna inquired of Darya INIikhailovna. " Xo. It 's a wav I have . . . c'est nerveux" " Permit me to inquire," began Pigasoff again, in his thin, nasal voice — " your acquain- tance, ]Mr. Baron MufFel ... I believe that is his name f " Yes, exactly." " Does jNIr. Baron Muff el make political econ- omy his special study, or does he merely devote to that interesting science the hours of leisure which are left in tlic midst of worldly amuse- ments and the duties of the service? " Rudin stared intently at I'igasoff. " The Baron is a dilettante in this matter," 4.8 RUDIN he replied, flushing shghtly; "but his article contains much that is both just and original." " 1 cannot dispute your statement, as 1 know nothing of the article. . . But I will venture to inquire whether the composition of your friend Baron ^lufFel does not, in all probability, stick more closely to general arguments than to facts?" " It contains both facts and arguments founded on facts." "Just so, sir; just so, sir. I must inform you that, in mj^ opinion .... and I may be al- lowed, on occasion, to say a word of my own: I spent three years in Dorpat .... all these so-called general arguments, hypotheses, sys- tems .... excuse me, I am a rustic, I blurt the truth straight out . . . are of no earthly use. The whole thing is mere reasoning, and serves only to mystify people. Hand over your facts, gentle- men, and that 's all we ask of you." "Really!" retorted Rudin. "Well, but the meaning of the facts should be set forth? " " General arguments," pursued Pigasoff ; " those general arguments, surveys, deductions, will be the death of me. That whole business is founded on so-called convictions; everybody prates about his convictions and demands respect for them to boot." And Pigasoff brandished his clenched fist in the air. Pandalevsky smiled. 44 RUDIN "Very fine, indeed!" remarked Rudin; "so, according to you, there are no such things as convictions? " " Xo — and they don't exist." " That is your conviction? " 1 es. " How can you say that there are none? There 's one for you, the veiy first thing." All the persons in the room smiled and ex- changed glances. " But permit me, permit me," PigasofF was beginning. . . . But Darya ^Nlikhailovna clapped her hands, cried, "Bravo, bravo, PigasofF is vanquished!" and quietly took Rudin's hat from his hands. "Wait a bit before you rejoice, madam; you '11 have plenty of time," put in Pigasoff , with vexation. " It is not enough to utter a keen word, with an air of superiority; one must prove, refute. . . . We have digressed from the subject under discussion." " Very well," remarked Riidin, coldly; " it is a very simple matter. You do not believe in the advantage of general arguments, you do not believe in convictions. ..." " I do not believe in them. I do not. I do not ])elieve in anytliing! " " Very good. You are a sceptic." " T see no necessity for using so learned a word. TTowevcr . . . . " 45 RUDIN " Do not keep interrupting continually! " in- terposed Diirya INIikhailovna. "Bite him, Towser, bite himl" said Panda- levskv to himself, at that moment, and grinned to the full extent of his mouth. " Tliat word expresses my thought," con- tinued Riidin. " You understand it ; then why not use it? You do not believe in anything. . . . Then why believe in facts? " "Why? that's excellent! Facts are definite things; everybod}^ knows what facts are. . . I judge them by experience, by my own instinct." " But may not your instinct be deceiving you? Your instinct tells you that the sun goes round the earth .... or, perhaps, you do not agree with Copernicus? You do not believe him, either?" Again a smile flitted across all faces, and the eyes of all present were riveted on Rudin. " Come, he 's not a stupid man," thought each one. " You are pleased to do nothing but jest," began Pigasoff. " Of course it is very original, but it does not suit the subject." " In what I have said so far," retorted Rudin, " there has been, unfortunately, but too little that is original. All that has been known for a very long time, and has been said a thousand times. The question is. . . . " " What? " inquired PigasofF, not without im- pertinence. 46 RUDIN In a dispute he was wont first to jeer at his opponent, then he became rude, and, finally, sulked and retreated into silence. " This," went on Riidin. " I must confess that I cannot help feeling sincere pity when clever people attack, in my presence. . . " "Systems?" interrupted PigasofF. " Yes, if you like, call it systems. Why does that word alarm you so? Every system is founded upon knowledge of the fundamental laws — the j^rinciples of life. . . " " But it is impossible to know them, to dis- cover them . . . good gracious!" " Pardon me. Of course they are not ac- cessible to every one, and it is natural to man to err. But you will, in all probability, agree with me that, for example, Xewton discovered at least a few of those fundamental laws. He was a genius, let us admit that; but the discoveries of geniuses are great precisely because they become the property of all men. The effort to discover general principles in partial phenomena is one of the radical properties of the human mind, and the whole of our civilisation " " So that 's what you 're after! " interrupted PigasofF, in a drawling tone. " I am a prac- tical niaii, and I do not enter into, and have IK) wish to enter into, all tliose meta])liysical subtleties. . . " "Very good! That depends on your will. 47 RUDIN jBut observe that your very desire to be a prac- tical man is, in its way, a system, a theory. ..." " CiviHsation, you say!" put in Pigasoff; " a pretty thing you 've taken it into your head to surprise us with! Who cares for it, that much- lauded civihsation! I wouldn't give a copper fartliing for vour civilisation!" " But how improperly you are arguing, Afri- kan Semyonitch!" remarked Darya Mikhai- lovna, inwardly delighted to the last degree with the composure and elegant courtesy of her new acquaintance. " C'esi un lioinme comme il faut/' she thought, casting a glance of approv- ing attention at Riidin's face. " I must attract him by friendly treatment." She mentally ut- tered these last words in Russian. " I will not undertake to defend civilisation," went on Rudin, after a brief pause ; " it does not stand in need of my protection. You do not love it . . . every one has his own taste. INIoreover, that would lead us too far. Permit me merely to remind you of an ancient adage: 'Jupiter, thou waxest wroth; therefore, thou art in the wrong.' What I wished to say was that all these attacks upon systems, upon general arguments, and so forth, are particularly vexatious because, together with the systems, people reject know- ledge in general, science and faith therein, con- sequently, also, faith in themselves, in their powers. But people need that faith; they can- 48 RtJDIN not live on impressions alone, it is a sin for them to fear thought and not to believe it. Scepti- cism has always been distinguished by sterility and impotence. ..." " All that is mere words! " muttered Pigasoff. " Possibly. But permit me to call your atten- tion to the fact that by saying, ' All that is mere words ! ' we frequently desire to rid ourselves of the necessity of saying an}i:hing more perti- nent than mere words." "What do you mean, sir?" asked Pigasoff, and screwed up his eyes. " You have understood what I meant to saj^ to you," retorted Riidin, with involuntary but instantaneously repressed impatience. " I re- peat, if a man hsfc no strong principle in which he believes, no ground whereon he stands firmly, how can he understand the details, the signifi- cance, the future of his nation? How can he know what he ought to do himself if .... " " Honour to whom honour is due! " said Piga- soff abruptly, bowed, and retired to one side, without looking at any one. Rudin looked at him, laughed slightly, and fell silent, " Aha! he has beaten a retreat! " said Darya ISrikhaflovna. " Do not disturb yourself, l^mi- try. . . . Excuse me," she added, with an affable smile, " what is your patronymic? " " Xikolaitch." 49 RUDIN " Do not disturb yourself, my dear Dmitn^ Nikolaitc'h. lie has not deceived any of us. He Avants to pretend that he does not wish to argue any more He is conscious that he cannot argue witli you. But you liad better take a seat nearer to us and we will have a chat." Rudin moved his chair closer. " How is it that we have not made acquain- tance before? " went on Darya Mikhailovna. *' I am amazed! . . . Have you read this book? C'est de Tocqueville, vans savez" And Darva jNIikhailovna handed Rudin the French pamphlet. Rudin took the thin little book in his hand, turned over a few pages, and, laying it on the table again, replied that he had not read that particular work of INI. Tocqueville, but had often meditated on the subject which the latter dealt with therein. A conversation arose. At first Rudin seemed to waver, seemed unable to make up his mind to speak out, could not hit upon words, but at last he warmed up and began to talk. At the end of a quarter of an hour his voice alone resounded in the room. All present clustered in a circle around him. Pigasoff alone remained at a distance in the corner near the fireplace. Rudin talked clev- erly, fervently, judiciously; he displayed much learning, much reading. No one had expected 50 RUDIN to find in him a man of great parts. . . He was so ordinarily dressed, so few rumours about him j had been in circulation. It struck them all as| strange and incomprehensible that such a clever/ person could suddenly make his appearance in country parts. All the more did he surprise and, we may say, enchant them all, beginning with Darya ]Mikhailovna. . . . She was proud of her discovery, and began to plan ahead how she would introduce Rudin to society. In her first impressions there was much that was childish, despite her years. Alexandra Pavlovna, to tell the truth, understood very little of all that Rudin said, but she was greatly amazed and delighted; her brother, also, was astonished. Pandalevsky watched Darya Mikhailovna and waxed envious. Pigasoff said to himself, ' I '11 give five hundred rubles, and I '11 get a still better nightingale! ' . . . But Basistoff and Xatalya were the most dum- founded of all. Basistoff was almost deprived of breath; he sat the whole time with gaping mouth and eyes protruding from their sockets, and listened, listened as he had never listened to any one since he was born, while Xatalya's face became overspread with a brilliant crimson hue, and her gaze, immovably riveted upon Rudin, both darkened and slione radiantly. . . " Wliat magnificent eyes he has!" Volyntzeff whis})ered to her. *' Yes, they are nice." 51 RUDIN " Only it 's a pity that his hands are large and red." Natiilya made no reply. Tea was served. The conversation became HKn-e general, but from the mere suddenness with which all fell silent the moment Riidin opened his mouth, one could judge of the strength of the impression he had produced. All of a sudden Darva ^likliailovna was seized with a whim to tease PigasofF. She approached him, and said in an undertone, " Why do you remain silent, and merely smile maliciously? Just make an ef- fort, grapple with him again," and, without aM^aiting his reply, she beckoned Riidin up with her hand. " There is still one thing which you do not know about him," she said to him, pointing at PigasofF; "he is a terrible woman-hater, he is incessantly attacking women; please turn him into the paths of truth." Riidin looked at PigasofF .... involuntarily looked down on him: he was the taller by two heads. PigasofF almost curled up with wrath, and his sallow face became pallid. " Darya INIikhailovna is mistaken," he began in an unsteady voice. " I do not attack women alone. I am not very fond of the human race as a whole." " What can have given you such a poor opin- ion of it? " asked Rudin. !^'2 RUDIX Pigasoff looked him straight in the eye. " Probably the study of my own heart, in which I discoyer, day by day, more trash. I judge of others by myself. Perhaps that is un- just, and I am a great deal worse than other men; but what am I to do? 'T is a habit! " " I understand you and sympathise with you," returned Riidin. " What noble soul has not ex- perienced the thirst for self -depreciation? But one must not remain in that helpless position." " I humbly thank you for issuing a certificate of nobility to my soul," retorted Pigasoff; " but my position is all right, it is n't a bad one, so that eyen if there is any issue from it — why, I don't care! I shall not seek it." " But that means — pardon the expression — that you give the preference to the satisfaction of your self-loye oyer your desire to be and to live in the truth. ..." " ]SIost certainly! " exclaimed Pigasoff; " self- love I can understand, and you, I hope, under- stand it, and every one understands it; but the truth — what is truth? Where is it, that truth? " " You are repeating yourself, I warn you,'* remarked Darya Mikhailovna. Pigasoff hunched his shoulders. " Where's the harm in that? I ask; where is truth? Even the philosophers do not know what it is. Kant says, ' This is it ' ; but Hegel says, ' Xo, you are mistaken; this is it. -3 > ?> RUDIN *' But do you know what Hegel says about it?" asked Rudiii, without raising his voice. " I repeat," went on Pigiisoff, who was now in a rase, " that 1 cannot understand what is truth. In my opinion, it does not exist in the world at all — that is to say, the word exists, but the thing itself does not." "Fie! Fie!" cried Darya Mikhailovna. " Are n't you ashamed to say that, you old sin- ner! There is no truth? After that, what is there in the world to live for? " " WhJ^ I think, Darya INIikhailovna," re- torted Pigasoff , with irritation, " that, in any case, vou would find it easier to live in the world without truth than without your cook, Stepan, who is such a master-hand at making beef broth ! And tell me, for mercy's sake, what do you want of truth? Why, you cannot make a mob-cap out of it ! " " A jest is not an answer," remarked Darya ]\likhailovna; "especially when it runs into as- persion." . . . " I do not know what the truth is like, but, as a matter of fact, evidently it puts your eyes out," muttered Pigasoff, and stepped aside in wrath. But Rudin began to talk about self-love, and talked very sensibly. He demonstrated that man without self-love is a cipher, that self-love is the lever of Archimedes, wherewith the earth may be moved from its place, but that, at the 54 RUDIX same time, only he deserves the appellation of man \\4io miderstands how to control his self- love as a rider controls his horse, who sacrifices his personality to the general welfare " Selfishness," he wound up, " is suicide. The selfish man withers up like an isolated, sterile tree; but self-love, in its quality of an effective effort toward perfection, is the origin of every- thing great. . . Yes! a man must break the obsti- nate egoism of his individuality in order to give it a right to announce its meaning ! " "Cannot you lend me a pencil?" Pigasoff asked Basistoff. BasistofF did not immediately understand what Pigasoff had asked him. " What do you want of a pencil? " he said at last. " I want to write down, at least, that last phrase of Mr. Rudin's. If I don't write it down, I shall certainly forget it! And you must ad- mit that such a phrase is equivalent to taking all the tricks in the game." " There are things at which it is a sin to laugh and sneer, Afrikan Semyonitch! " said BasistofF, with heat, and turned his back on Pigasoff. In the meanwhile, Rudin had stepped up to Natalya. She rose; her face expressed per- plexity. Volyntzeff, wlio was sitting beside her, rose also. " I sec a pianoforte," said Kndin, softly and 55 RUDIN affably, like a prince on liis travels. " Do not you play on it? " " Yes, 1 play," said Natalya; "but not very well. Konstantin Dioniiditcb, yonder, plays much better than 1 do." Pandalevsky thrust forward his face and showed his teeth. " You have no reason to say that, Natalya Alexyeevna; j^ou play quite as well as I do." " Do you know Schubert's ' Erlkonig ' ? " in- quired lludin. "He does, he does!" interposed Darya Mi- khailovna. " Sit down, Constaiitin. . . And you love music, Dmitry Nikolaitch?" Rudin merely bent his head slightly, and passed his hand over his hair, as though prepar- ing to listen. . . . Pandalevsky began to play. Natalya stood by the piano, directly opposite Riidin. At the first sound his face assumed a very beautiful expression. His dark blue eyes slowly roved about, now and then halting on Na- talya. Pandalevsky finished. Rudin said nothing, and walked to the open window. A fragrant mist lay in a soft veil over the park; the near-by trees breathed forth a slumberous coolness. The stars glowed softly. The summer night lulled itself and soothed. Rudin gazed out into the obscure park and turned round. " This music and this night," he said, " have 50 RUDIX reminded me of my student days in Germanj^ — our reunions, our serenades. . . " " And have you been in Germany? " asked Darya ]Mikhailovna. " I spent a year at Heidelberg and about a year in Berlin." " And did you dress in student fashion? I am told that they dress rather peculiarly there." " In Heidelberg I wore big boots with spurs, and a braided hussar jacket, and my hair grew down to my shoulders. ... In Berlin the students dress like everybody else." " Do tell us sometliing about j'-our student life?" said Alexandra Pavlovna. Rudin began to narrate. He was not quite successful in his narration. His descriptions lacked colour. He did not understand how to excite laughter. However, Riidin speedily ])assed from stories of his foreign adventures to general reflections upon the significance of learning and science, upon the universities and university life in general. In broad, bold out- lines, he sketched a vast picture. All listened to liirri with profound attention. He talked in a masterly manner, fascinatingly, not quite clearlv . . . but tliis very lack of clearness im- ])arted a certain charm to his speech. The abimdance of his thouglits ])revented Ru- din from expressing liimself definitely and ac- curately. Images followed images; compari- 57 RUDIN sons, iiow unexpectedly daring, again strikingly faithful, succeeded each other. His impatient improvisation breathed forth not the conceited refinement of an experienced chatterer, but in- spiration. He did not seek his words; they came obediently and freely of their own accord to his lips, and every word seemed to pour forth straight from his soul, glowing with all the fire of conviction. Riidin possessed what is almost the highest mystery — the music of eloquence. He understood how, b}" thrumming upon one of the heart's chords, to make it emit a troubled sound and set all the others to quivering. Any given hearer might not be able to imderstand precisely w'hat the speech was about; but his breast heaved high, some curtains or other parted before his eyes, something radiant blazed up in front of him. All of Rudin's thoughts seemed to be directed toward the future; this imparted to them an im- petuous, youthful character Standing at the window, looking at no one in particular, he talked on; and, inspired by the universal sym- pathy and attention, by the proximity of young women, by the beauty of the night, carried away by the flood of his own sensations, he rose to eloquence, to poetry. . . The very sound of his voice, concentrated and quiet, heightened the spell; it seemed as though something lofty, un- expected by himself, were being uttered by his 08 RUDIN mouth. . . Rudin spoke about that which gives eternal significance to the temporal life of man. " I remember a Scandinavian legend," he \. said in conclusion; "a king is sitting with his warriors in a long, dark shed, around the fire. It is night — winter. All at once a tiny bird flies in through one open door and flies out through another. The king remarks that the bird is like man in the world : he has flown in from the dark- ness, and he flies forth into the darkness, and has not remained long in the warmth and the light. . . . ' King,' returns the oldest of his war- riors, ' the bird will not get lost in the darkness, and will find its nest.' . . . Exactlv so, our life is swift and trivial ; but everything great is effected through the agency of men. The consciousness that one is the tool of those higher powers ought to requite a man for all other joys; in death it- self he will find his life, his nest. ..." Rudin paused, and lowered his eyes with a smile of involuntary confusion. " Vous ctes tin poete" said Darya Mikhai- lovna, in a low voice. And they all inwardly agreed with her, — all, with the exception of PigasofF. Without wait- ing for the end of Rudin's speech, he had quietly taken his hat, and as he departed he liad re- marked in a wratliful whisper to Pandalevsky, who stood near the door: " No! I 'm going to the fools." .50 RUDIN But no one detained him or noticed his ab sence. The servants brought in the supper, and half an hour hiter all had driven or walked away. Diirva Mikhailovna requested Rudin to stay overnight. Alexandra Pavlovna, as she was re- turning home in the carriage with her brother, several times began to exclaim and to admire Ru- din's remarkable mind. Volyntzeff agreed with her, but remarked that he had sometimes ex- pressed himself rather obscurely . . . that is to say, not quite intelligibly, he added, being desirous, probably, of making his own thought clear; but his face clouded over, and his gaze, riveted upon one corner of the carriage, seemed to have be- come more melancholy than ever. Pandalevsky, as he prepared himself for bed and took off his silk-embroidered suspenders, said aloud, " A very adroit man! " and all of a sudden, witli a stern glance at his youthful valet, ordered him to leave the room. Basistoff did not sleep all night long, and did not undress until morning dawned; he wrote at a letter to a comrade of his in Moscow, while Natalya, al- though she undressed and got into bed, did not sleep for a single minute, and did not even close her eyes. With her head resting on her hand, she stared intently into darkness; her pulse beat feverishly, and her breast heaved, from time to time, with a heavy sigh. 60 IV The next morning, Rudin had just finished dressing when a man-servant presented himself from Darva ]Mikhailovna, with an invitation to be so good as to come to her boudoir and drink tea with her. Riidin found her alone. She bade him good morning in a very amiable manner, inquired whether he had passed a good night, poured him out a cup of tea with her own hands, even asked M-hether there was enough sugar, of- fered him a cigarette, and twice repeated that she was surprised that she had not made his ac- quaintance long before. Rudin made a move- ment to seat himself at some distance ; but Darya ^likhailovna pointed to a softly stuffed imtc which stood beside her arm-chair, and, bending slightly in liis direction, began to question him concerning his family, his plans and projects. Diirya ^likhai'lovna talked carelessly, listened abstractedly; but Rudin understood quite well that she was paying court to him, almost cajoling him. Not for nothing had she arranged this ma- tutinal meeting, not for nothing had she gowned lierself simply ])ut elegantly, a la ISfadame Re- camier! However, Darya Mlkhailovna soon 61 IIUDIN ceased to question him; she began to tell him about herself, about her youth, about the people with wliom she was ae(iuainte(l. Rudin listened with sympathy to her idle prattle, although, strange to say, no matter what person Darya Mikhailovna talked about, she still remained constantly in the foreground, — she alone, — and the other individual somehow crept away and vanished. On the other hand, Rudin learned in detail precisely what Darya ^likhailovna had said to such and such a noted dignitary, w^hat in- fluence she had exerted upon such and such a famous poet. Judging from Darya Mikhai- lovna's stories, one might have thought that all the celebrated people of the last quarter of a cen- tury had dreamed of nothing else but how to try and see her, how to gain her favour. She talked about them simply, without especial raptures and praises, as of members of her own family, callinff some of them eccentrics. She talked about them, and, like a costly setting round a jewel, their names were ranged in a brilliant bor- der around the chief name — around Darya Mikhailovna. . . . But Rudin listened as he smoked his cigarette, and maintained silence, only now and then inter- jecting small remarks into the discourse of the loquacious lady. He knew how to talk and was fond of talking himself; he w^as not only strong at conducting a conversation, but he knew how to 32 RUDIN listen also. Every one whom he did not alarm at the start unbosomed himself confidentially in his presence, so readily and approvingly did he follow the thread of the other person's narrative. There was much good nature in him, — that spe- cial sort of good nature wherewith people who are accustomed to feel themselves su4ierior to others are filled. In argument he rarely gave his adversary a chance to have his say, and over- whelmed him with his impetuous and passionate dialectics. Darya ]\Iikhailovna explained herself in Rus- sian. She liked to show off her proficiency in her native language, although Gallicisms and small French words often occurred in her speech. She deliberately employed ordinary, vernacular terms, but not always with success. Riidin's ear was not offended by the strange medley of lan- guage on the lips of Darya ^Nlikhailovna, and the probability is that he lacked the ear for that. Darya ^likhailovna became fatigued at last, and, leaning her head against the cushion at the back of her chair, she fixed her eyes on Riidin and relapsed into silence. " I understand now," began Rudin in a delib- erate tone — " I understand why you come to the country every summer. Tliis repose is indis- pensa})le for you; tlie rustic tran(]uillity, after the life of the capital, refreshes and strengthens 63 RUUIN you. I am convinced tliat you must be pro- foundly sensitive to the beauties of nature." Diirya JSlikliailovna cast a sidelong glance at Kiidin. " Nature . . . yes . . . yes, of course. . . I am awfully fond of it; but you know, Dnn'try Niko- laitch, that one cannot get along in the country without people. And there is hardly any one here. Pigasoff is the cleverest man in these parts." " The choleric old fellow of last evening? " in- quired Rudin. " Yes, that man. . . . However, in the country, even he is useful — if only to raise a laugh now and then." " He is far from a stupid man," returned Riidin; " but he is on the wrong road. I do not know whether you agree with me, Darya Mikhai- lovna, but in negation — in complete and univer- sal negation — there is no blessing. Deny every- thing, and you may easily pass for a clever person; that is a familiar bait. Good-natured people are ready to conclude on the spot that you stand higher than the thing you deny. And this is frequently untrue. In the first place, a flaw may be discovered in everji:hing; and, in the second place, even if you are stating a fact, you are only the worse off; your mind, directed only toward negation, becomes poverty-stricken, withers away. By satisfying your self-love you deprive yourself of the true joys of contempla- 64 RUDIN tion ; life — the essence of life — escapes from your petty and sjDlenetic observation, and you will end by snarling and exciting laughter. Only he who loves has a right to censure, to chide." "Voila M — /•. P'lgdsoff entcrre! " remarked Darya ]Mikhailovna. " What a master-hand you are at defining a man ! However, Pigasoff , in all probability, did not understand you. He loves only his own person." " And reviles it, with the object of having a right to revile others," chimed in Rudin. Darya ^Slikhailovna laughed. " ' He judges the sound ' — how is it the prov- erb runs . . . . ' he judges the sound by the sick.' By the way, what do you think of the Baron? " "Of the Baron? He is a nice man, with a kind heart, and well informed .... but he lacks force of character . . . and all his life long he will remain half a learned man, half a man of the world — that is to say, a dilettante ; that is to sav, to express it point-blank — nothing. . . . But 't is a pity! " " I am of that opinion myself," replied Darya JNIikhailovna. " 1 have read his article. . . Entre noiifi . . . ccla a asficz pen de fond " " Whom else have you in tlie neighbourhood? " iiH|nired Rudin, after a pause. Djirya Mikhai'lovna flicked the aslics from her tiny, straw-covered cigarette with her little finger. 05 RUDIN " Why, there is hardly any one else. Mme. Lipin, Alexandra Pavlovna, whom you saw yesterday; she is very ehanning — but that is all. Ilcr brother is also a very fine man — un parfait honnctc hommc. Prince Garin you know. That is all. There are two or three other neighbours, but they count for absolutely nothing. Either they are capricious — their airs are dreadful — or they are shy, or else they are unduly free and easy. I do not receive ladies, as you know. There is still one other neighbour, a very cultured, even a learned man, they say, but a frightfully ec- centric person — fantastic. Alexandrine knows him, and, apparently, is not indifferent to him. . . There, now, you ought to study her, Dmitry Xikolaitch; she is a lovely creature; all she needs is to be developed a little. She must be devel- oped, without fail! " " She is very sympathetic," remarked Riidin. " A perfect child, Dmitry Nikolaitch, a real child. She was married — mais c'est tout comjne. ... If I had been a man I would have fallen in love with no other sort of women." "Reallv?" " Absolutely. Such women, at all events, are fresh, and freshness cannot be counter- feited." "And everything else can?" inquired Rudin, and laughed, which very rarely happened with him. When he laughed his face assumed a 66 RUDIN strange, almost senile, expression, his eyes grew small, his nose wrinkled up. . . " And who is the man whom you called an eccentric, and to whom ^Ime. Lipin is not in- different? " he asked. " A certain LezhnyofF, ^Nlikhailo ^Mikhailitch, a landed proprietor of this neighbourhood." Rudin was surprised, and raised his head. "Lezhnvoff, Mikhailo Mikhailitch? " he asked; " is he a neighbour of yours? " " Yes. And do you know him? " Riidin did not reply for a space. " I used to know him before .... long ago. He is a wealthy man, I believe? " he added, pluck- ing at the fringe of the arm-chair with his hand. " Yes, he is wealthy, although he dresses hor^ ribly, and drives about in a racing-gig, like a clerk. I would have liked to attract him to my house ; he is clever, thev say, and I have a matter of business to settle with him You are aware, of course, that I manage my own estate." Rudin inclined his head. " Yes, I do it myself," went on Darya Mikhai- lovna. " I do not introduce any foreign non- sense ; I hold to my own way, — the Russian way, — and matters, as you see, appear to proceed not altogether badly," she added, with a circular movement of her hand. " I have always been convinced," remarked 67 RUDIN Uruliii, courteously, " of the extreme injustice of those people who tleny that women have prac- tical sense." Diirya Mikhailovna smiled pleasantly. " Vou are very condescending," she said; " hut \\hat in the world was it that I wanted to say? What were we talking about? Yes! About Lezhnyoff. I have business with him in regard to our boundary lines. I have in- vited him to my house several times, and I am even expecting him to-day; but he does not come, God knows why ... he is such a queer fellow^! " The portiere was gently parted, and the but- ler entered, a man of lofty stature, grey-haired and bald, clad in a black dress-suit, a white neck- tie, and a w^hite waistcoat. " What dost thou want? " inquired Darya IMikhailovna, and, turning slightly toward Ru- din, she added in an undertone, " n'est ce pas, comme il ressemhle a Canning? " " ISIikliailo ^likhailitch Lezhnyoff has ar- rived," announced the butler. " Do you com- mand that he be received? " " Akli, good heavens!" cried Darya Mikliai- lovna; " speak of the devil! Ask him in." The butler withdrew. "He's such a queer fellow; he has come at last, but inopportunely. He has interrupted our chat." 08 RUDIX Riidin rose from his seat, but Darva ^Nlikhai- lovna stopped him. " Where are you going? We can talk in your presence. And I wish to have you define him, as you did PigasofF. Wlien you speak — vous gravez comme avec tin hurin. Stay." Riidin was about to say something, but changed his mind and remained. ^likliailo ]MikIiaihtch, with whom the reader is already acquainted, entered the boudoir. He wore the same grey surtout, in his hands he held the same old cap. He bowed with com- posure to Darya ^Nlikhailovna, and approached the tea-table. " At last you have done us the honour to come to us. Monsieur LezhnyofF!" said Darya Mikhai- lovna. " Pray take a seat. You are acquainted, I hear," she continued, pointing to Rudin. Lezhnyoif glanced at Rudin, and smiled in a rather singular manner. " I do know iMr. Rudin," he said, with a slight inclination. " We were at the university together," re- marked Rudin, in a low tone, and dropped his eyes. " And we met afterward," said Lezhnyoff, coldly. Darya Mikhailovna stared at both of them in considerable surprise, and invited Lezhnyoff to be seated. 69 RUDIN " You wished to see me," he began, " about the survey^ " " Yes, about the survey; but I wanted to see you anyway. For we are near neighbours, and ahiiost related to each other." " I am very much obhged to j''ou," returned I^ezhnyofF; " but, so far as the boundary-line is concerned, yoiu' manager and I have settled that matter definitely ; I agree to all his propositions." " I knew that." " Only he told me that, without a personal interview with you, the papers could not be signed." "Yes; I have established that rule. By the way, permit me to ask, — I believe all your peas- ants are on quit-rent, are they not? " " Just so." " And you are taking charge of the boundary- line matter yourself? That is praiseworthy." LezhnyoiF made no reply for a moment. " So I have presented myself for the personal interview," he said. Darya ^likhailovna laughed, " I see that you have presented yourself. You say that in a tone as though. . . You must have been extremely unwilling to come to me." " I go nowhere," returned Lezhnyoff, phleg- maticallv. " Nowhere? But you go to Alexandra Pav- lovna's?" 70 RUDIX " I have known her brother for a long time.'* " Her brother! However, I force no one. . . . But, pardon me, ]MikIiailo jNIikliaihtch, I am older than you and may lecture you a little ; what makes vou avoid society like a solitary wolf? Or » */ ^ is it my house, in particular, that does not please you? Am I displeasing to you? " " I do not know you, Darya ^Nlikhailovna, and therefore you cannot be displeasing to me. Your house is very fine; but I will confess to you frankly that I do not like to stand on ceremony, and I do not j^ossess a decent dress-suit; I have no gloves; and, moreover, I do not belong to your circle in society." " By birth, by education, you do belong to it, ^Nlikhailo ]Mikliailitch! — vous etes des notres." " Set birth and education aside, Darya INIikliai- lovna! That is not the point. . . " " A man should live with men, Mikhailo Mikhailitch! AVhat pleasure do you find in sit- ting, like Diogenes, in a cask? " " In the first place, he was very comfortable there; and, in the second place, how do you know that I do not live with men? " Darya ^Slikhailovna bit her lip. " That is another matter. All that is left for me to do is to regret that I was not considered worthy to fall into the number of people with whom you consort." " ^Monsieur Lezhnyoff," interposed Ri'idin, 71 RUDIN " appears to exaggerate a very laiulable senti- ment — love of liberty." lAV-hnyoil' made no reply, and merely glanced at Ki'idin. A brief pause ensued. " So then, madam," began Lezbnyoff, rising, " I may regard our affair as completed, and tell your manager to send me the documents." " You may . . . although, I must confess, you are so unamiable . . . that I ought to refuse." " But, you see, this survey is far more advan- tageous for you than for me." Darya ]Mikhailovna shrugged her shoulders. " You are not willing even to breakfast with me? " she asked. " I thank you sincerely. I never breakfast, and I am in haste to get home." Darya JNIikhailovna rose. " I will not detain you," she said, as she walked to the window. " I dare not detain you." LezhnyofF began to take leave. ^ *' Good-bye, Monsieur Lezhnyoff ! Pardon me for having disturbed you." " Not at all, I assure you," returned Lezh- nyofF, and withdrew. " What do you think of that? " inquired Da- rya Mikhailovna of Rudin. " I had heard that he was an eccentric person, but this passes all bounds." " He is suffering from the same malady as Pigasoff ," said Rudin— " from a desire to be 72 RUDIX original. PigasofF feigns to be a jNIephisto- pheles, this one a cynic. In all this there is much egotism, much self-conceit, and little truth, little love. You see, there is a calculation, of a sort, in this also ; a man has donned a mask of in- difference and laziness, saying to himself: ' Per- chance, some one will think, " There 's that man — how many talents he has wasted ! " ' But when you come to look more closely, he possesses no talents at all!" " Et de deux! " said Darya ^Mildiailovna. " You are a terrible man at definitions. One can- not hide from you." " Do you think so? " . . . said Riidin. " How- ever," he went on, " to tell the truth, I ought not to talk about LezhnyofF; I loved him, — loved him as a friend, — but later on, in consequence of various misunderstandings. . . " " You quarrelled? " " No. But we parted — and parted, appar- ently, forever." " Exactly so. I noticed that during the whole of his visit you did not seem to be quite your- self. . . But 1 am very gratefid to you for this morning. I have passed the time in an extremely agreeable manner. But I must not abuse your kindness. I will release you until breakfast, and will go and attend to business myself. My secre- tary — you have seen him — Coiistaiitin, c'cst liii qui est man secretaire — must be already waiting 7;i RUDIN for me. I recommend him to your favour; he is a very fine, very ohhging young man, and is in perfect raptures over you. Farewell for a Avliile, chcr Dmitry Nikolaitch! How grateful I am to tlie Earon for having introduced you to me! " And Darya INIikliailovna offered her hand to Kudin. He first pressed it, then raised it to his lips, and went out into the music-room, and from the music-room to the verandah. On the verandah he encountered Natalya. 74 Darya ^Mikhailo^^^a's daughter, Natalya Alexyeevna, might not strike one as pleasing at first sight. She had not yet completed her growth, was thin and swarthy, and held herself in rather a stooping attitude. But her features were beautiful and regular, although too large for a girl of seventeen. Especially fine was her pure and smooth forehead above slender brows which seemed to have been broken apart in the middle. She spoke little, but listened and looked attentively, almost insistently, as though she wished to account to herself for everything. She often remained motionless, witli drooping hands, and meditated; on her countenance, at siicli times, the inward travail of thought was. expressed. A barely perceptible smile made its ai)pearance of a sudden on her lips and van- ished ; her large, dark eyes were slowly raised. . . . " Quavez-vous? " Mile. Boncourt would ask lier, and would begin to cliide her, saying that it was not j^i'oper for a young girl to meditate and assume an air of abstraction. But Na- talya was not a])stracted; on the contrary, she studied diligently; she read and worked will- 75 KUDIN ingly. She felt deeply and strongly, but se- cretly; even in her ehildhood she had rarely cried, and now she rarely even sighed, and only turned slightly pale when anything annoyed her. Her mother considered her a good-tem- pered, sensible young girl, called her, jestingly, "Man huunctc homme de /die" but enter- tained none too high an opinion as to her mental abilities. " ]My Natasha, fortunately, is cold," she was wont to say; "she does not take after me . . so much the better. She will be happy." Darya ^Mikhailovna was in error. However, very few mothers imderstand their daughters. Natalya loved Darya JNIildiailovna, and did not entirely trust her. " Thou hast nothing to hide from me," Darya Mikhailovna once said to her, " otherwise thou wouldst hide it; apparently, thou thinkest for thyself. ..." Natalya looked her mother in the eye, and said to herself: " Why shouldn't one think for herself? " When Rudin met her on the verandah she had gone into the house, in company with Mile. Bon- court, to put on her hat and go into the garden. Her morning occupations were already finished. They had ceased to treat Natalya like a little girl; for a long time past Mile. Boncourt had not given her any lessons in mythology and geography, but Natalya was bound to read his- 76 RUDIN torical books and other edifying works every morning in her presence. Darya IMikliailovna selected them, apparently in consonance with a special system of her own. As a matter of fact, she simply handed over to Xatalya everything which the French bookseller in Petersburg sent her, with the exception, of course, of the novels of Dumas fils, and Co. These novels Darya ]Mikliailovna read herself. ]Mlle. Boncourt glared through her spectacles with particular severity and acidity when Xatalya was perusing historical books. According to the ideas of the old Frenchwoman, all history was filled with un- permissible things, although she herself, for some reason or other, was acquainted with Cambyses alone among the great men of antiquity; and, among those of recent times, only with Louis XIV and Napoleon, whom she could not abide. But Xatalya also read books whose very exist- ence ]Mlle. Boncourt did not suspect: she knew the whole of Pushkin by heart. . . . Xatalya blushed slightly on encountering Rii- din. " Are you going for a stroll? " he asked her. " Yes. We are going into the garden." " ]\Iay I go with you? " Xattilya glanced at Mile. Boncourt. " Main ccrtahicmcnt, monsieur, avec plaisu'/* the old spinster made haste to say. Riidin took his hat and went witli them. 77 RUDIN xVt first Natiilya felt awkward at walking by the side of Uutliii on one path; afterwards she was more at her ease. He began to question her with regard to her oeeupations, and as to how she liked the eountry. She replied, not without timidity, but without that hurried bashfulness M-hieh is frecpiently passed off and mistaken for jnodestv. Her heart beat fast. "You do not get bored in the country?" in- quired Rudin, taking her in with a sidelong glance. " How can one be bored in the country? I am very glad that we are here. I am very happy here." " You are happy! . . . That is a great word. However, that is comprehensible: you are young." Rudin uttered this last word in a rather strange manner, not precisely as though he envied Na- tasha, nor yet precisely as though he pitied her. " Yes! Youth! " he added. " The whole aim of science is consciously to attain to that which is bestowed gratuitously." Natalya gazed attentively at Riidin; she did not understand him. " I have spent this whole morning conversing with your mother," he went on ; " she is a re- markable woman. I understand why all our poets have prized her friendship. And are you fond of poetry? " he added, after a brief silence. RUDIN " He is putting me through an examination," thought Xatalya, and said: "Yes, I am very fond of it." " Poetry is the language of the gods. I my- self love verses. But there is no poetry in or- dinary verses; it is disseminated everywhere, it is all around us Look at these trees, at this skv — from every direction emanate life and beauty; and where life and beauty are, there poetry is also." " Let us sit down here, on this bench," he con- tinued. " That 's right. Somehow or other, it seems to me that when you shall have got ac- customed to me " (and he looked into her face M'ith a smile), " we shall become friends. What do you think? " " He is treating me like a little girl," thought Xatalya again, and, not knowing what to say, she asked him whether he intended to remain long in the country. " All the summer, the autumn, and perhaps the n inter also. As you know, I am far from being a wealthy man; my affairs are in disorder, and, moreover, I am tired of roaming about from place to place. It is time to rest." Natiilya was surprised. " Is it possible that you think it is time for you to rest? " she asked him timidly. Kudin turned his face toward Natalya. " What do you mean by that? " 79 RUDIN " I mean to say," slie returned, with some coii' fusion, " that others may rest; but you . . . you ought to toil, to try to be of use. Who, if not you. . . ." " I thank you for your flattering opinion," Kudin interrupted her. " It is easy to say .... ' to be of use.' " (He passed his hand across his face.) "To be of use!" he repeated. "Even if I bore within me a firm conviction how I might be of use, — even if I had faith in my powers, — where am I to find sincere, sympathetic souls?" And Rudin waved his hand in so hopeless a manner, and drooped his head so sorrowfully, that Natalya involuntarily asked herself: — Was it really his rapturous speeches, breathing forth hope, which she had listened to on the preceding evening ? " But no," he added, suddenly shaking his long mane; "this is nonsense, and you are right. I thank you, Xatalya Alexyeevna, I thank you sincerely." (Natalya decidedly did not knov/ what he was thanking her for. ) " That one word of yours has recalled me to my duty, has pointed out to me my path Yes, I must act. I must not hide my talent, if I possess it; I must not waste my powers in empty chatter, useless chatter, in mere words. . . ." And his words flowed forth in a stream. He talked very finely, fervently, convincingly, about 80 RUDIN the disgrace of cowardice and laziness, about the indispensability of doing deeds. He showered reproaches on himself, demonstrated that to ar- gue beforehand about what one wants to do is as injurious as to stick a pin into a fruit over- flowing with juice, — that this was only a vain waste of powers and of juices. He declared that there is no noble thought which does not win sympathy, that only those people remain misunderstood who either do not know them- selves what they wish or are not worth under- standing. He talked for a long time, and wound up by thanking Xatalya Alexyeevna once more, and quite unexpectedly pressed her hand, saying: " You are a very beautiful, noble being! " This liberty startled ]Mlle. Boncourt, who, in spite of her forty years' residence in Russia, un- derstood Russian with difficulty, and merely ad- mired the beautiful swiftness and fluency of the language in Riidin's mouth. However, in her eyes he was something in the nature of a virtuoso or an artist; and from that sort of people, ac- cording to her ideas, it was imjwssible to demand the observance of decorum. She rose, and, abruptly adjusting her go^vTi, announced to Xatalya that it was time to go home, that IMovsicur Volinsoff (that was what she called Volyntzeff ) was intending to come for breakfast. 81 RUDIN *' Yes, and there he is! " she added, glancing down one of the avenues wliich led to the house. In fact, A^)lyntzeft' made his appearance a short distance away. He approached with an undecided gait, bowed to them all wliile still at a distance, and, address- ing Xatalya with a pained expression on his face, he said: " Ah! Are you taking a stroll? " " Yes," replied Natasha, " we are just going home." " Ah! " ejaculated VolyntzefF. " Well, let us start." And they all set off for the house. "How is your sister's health?" Rudin asked VohhitzefF, in a rather peculiarly caressing voice. He had been very amiable to him on the preceding evening also. " I am obliged to you. She is well. Perhaps she will come hither to-day I think you were discussing something when I came up." " Yes. Xatalya Alexyeevna and I had been having a chat. She said a word to me which has had a powerful effect upon me." . . . Volyntzeff did not inquire what the word was, and all returned, in profound silence, to the house of Darva Mikhailovna. Before dinner the salon was formed again. But Pigasoff did not come. Rudin did not ap- 82 RUDIN pear to advantage ; he kept making Pandalevsky play selections from Beethoven. VolyntzeiF maintained silence and stared at the floor. Xa- talya clung persistently to her mother's side, now immersed in thought, now devoting herself to her work. BasistofF never took his eyes from Riidin, in the momentarj'- expectation that the latter would say something clever. Three hours passed thus, rather monotonously. Alexandra Pavlovna did not come to dinner, and Volyntzeif , as soon as they rose from table, immediately or- dered his calash to be brought round, and slipped away without taking leave of any one. He felt heavy at heart. He had long loved Xatalya, and was always on the verge of making her an offer of marriage She favoured him, — but her heart remained calm ; he perceived that clearly. He had no hope of inspiring in her a more tender sentiment, and was only awaiting the moment when she should become thoroughly accustomed to him — should draw nearer to him. What could have perturbed him? What change had he observed during those two days? Xatalya had treated him exactly as hereto- fore AVhether his soul was choked with the thought that, perhaps, he did not understand Xatalya's character at all, that she was more alien to him than he had imagined, whether jealousy had awakened within bim, whether he felt a dim fore- 83 RUDIN boding of something evil, .... at all events, he sutlVrcd. argue with himself as he might. \\'hen he entered his sister's house, LezhnyofF was sitting with her. " ^^'hat made you come home so early? " asked Alexandra Pavlovna. " Because — I was bored." "Is Kudin there?" " Yes." Volyntzeif flung aside his cap and sat down. Alexandra Pavlovna turned to him with vivacity : " Please, Seryozha, help me to convince this obstinate man " (she pointed at LezhnyofF) " that Riidin is remarkably clever and eloquent." Volyntzeff muttered something. " Why, I 'm not disputing your statement in the least," began Lezhnyoff . " I have no doubt whatever as to JNIr. Rudin's cleverness and elo- quence; all I say is that I do not like him." " And do you mean to sav that vou have seen him? " asked Volyntzeff. " I saw him this morning at Darya Mikhai- lovna's. You see, he is now her grand vizier. The time will come when she will part with him, — Pandalevsky is the only one with whom she will not part, — but he is reigning at present. Saw him? Of course I did! There he sat, and she pointed me out to him. ' Look, my dear sir,' says she, ' see what eccentric fellows we grow here.' I 'm not a stud-horse — I 'm not accus- 84 RUDIN tomed to be trotted out on show, so I took and marched off." " But why wast thou at her house? " " About the survey of the boundarv-hne ; but that 's nonsense. She simply wanted to have a look at my physiognomy. She 's a fine lady — every one knows what that means! " " His superiority offends you. That 's what 's the matter," said Alexandra Pavlovna, M^ith ar- dour. " That is what you cannot pardon him. But I am convinced that, in addition to his mind, he must also have an excellent heart. Just look at his eyes when he . . . ." " ' Of lofty uprightness he prates,' " . . . . in- terposed Lezhnyoff. " You will provoke me, and I shall begin to cry. I regret, from my soul, that I did not go to Darya Mikhailovna's, and remained here with you. You are not worthy of it. Do stop teasing me," she added, in a plaintive voice. " You had better tell me about his youth." " About Riidin's voutli? " " Yes, certainly. You know, you told me that you knew him well, and had been acquainted with liim for a long time." Lezhnyoff rose and paced the room. " Yes," he began; " I do know him well. You want me to tell you about his youth? Very well. He was born in T . . . ., of poor parents of tlie landed gentry class. His father soon died. He was left alone with his mother. She was an ex- 85 RUDIX treniely kind-hearted woman, and was perfectly inl'atuated witli liini; she subsisted on nothing but dried oatmeal, and used all tlie little money she possessed on him. He received his education in Moscow, first at the expense of some uncle or other, and later on, when he was grown and got his feathers, at the expense of a certain wealthy petty prince with whom he had sniffed up some sort of understanding .... well, pardon me, I will not do it again! .... with whom he had made friends. Then he entered the university. I knew him at the university, and became very intimate with him. Concerning our manner of life together at that epoch I will speak with you at some future time. At present I cannot. Then he went abroad " Lezhnyoff continued to stride up and down the room ; Alexandra Pavlovna followed him with her eyes. " From abroad," he went on, " Riidin wrote to his mother very rarely, and never visited her but once, for about ten days The old woman died in his absence — in the arms of strangers; but until the verv moment of her death she never took her ej'-es from his portrait. I used to call on her when I lived in T She was a good woman, and extremely hospitable. She loved her Mitya passionately. Gentlemen of the Petchorin ^ 1 The hero of L^rraontofTs famous novel: "A Hero of Our Times." — Tkanslatou. 86 RUDIX school will tell you that we always love those who themselves possess very little capacity for loving; but it seems to me that all mothers love their children, especially those who are absent. Then I met Rudin abroad. There a gentlewo- man had tacked herself on to him — one of our Russian women, a sort of blue-stocking, no longer either young or pretty, as is fitting for a blue- stocking. He bothered about with her for quite a lonsf time, and then abandoned her, or, no ... . what am I saying? .... pardon me! — she aban- doned him. And then I dropped him. That is all." Lezhnyoff relapsed into silence, passed his hand across his brow, and sank into an arm-chair as though fatigued. " Do you know what, ^Mikliailo ^Mikhailitch? " began Alexandra Pavlovna. " I perceive that you are a malicious man; really, you are no bet- ter than PigasofF. I am convinced that every- thing you have said is true, that you have invented nothing, and yet in what an unfavourable light you have represented it all! That poor old woman, her devotion, her lonely death! That lady! .... What is the use of all that? .... Do you know that it is ])ossible to depict the life of the best of men in such colours, and, without adding anything, observe, that any one would be horrified! Really, that also is calumny, in its way." 87 RUDIX Lezhnyoff rose, and again began to pace the room. " I had not the slightest desire to make you feel horrified, Alexandra Piivlovna," he said at last. " I am not a calumniator. However," he added, after a little reflection, " there really is a certain amount of truth in what you say. I have not calumniated Rudin; but — who knows? — perhaps he has succeeded in effecting a change in himself since then; j)erha2:)s I have been unjust toward him." " Ah! There, you see! .... So now promise me that you will renew your acquaintance with him, that you will learn to know him well, and then you shall tell me your definitive opinion of him." " So be it. . . . But why are you silent, Ser- gyei Pavlitch? " VolyntzefF started and raised his head, as though he had been awakened from sleep. " What is there for me to say? I do not know him. And, besides, my head aches to-day." " Thou really art rather pale to-day," re- marked Alexandra Pavlovna; " art thou well? " " jNIy head aches," repeated Volyntzeff , and left the room. Alexandra Pavlovna and Lezhnyoff gazed af- ter him and exchanged a glance, but said nothing to each other. What was going on in Volyn- tzeff 's heart was no secret either to him or to her. 88 VI JSIoRE than two months elapsed. During the whole course of that time Rudin hardly left Da- rya ^Nlikliailovna's house. She could not get along without him. It had become a necessity for her to talk to him about herself, to listen to his argu- ments. One day he made an attempt to depart, on the pretext that all his money was exhausted. She gave him five hundred rubles. He also bor- rowed a couple of hundred rubles from Volyn- tzefF. Pigasoff called upon Darya ^Nlikhailovna much more rarely than before. Riidin over- whelmed him with his presence. However, Piga- soff was not the only one to experience this sense of being overwhelmed. " I don't like that clever fellow," he was wont to say; "he expresses himself unnaturally — for all the world like a personage in a Russian novel. He will say ' I,' and pause with emotion ' I,' says he, ' I . . . .' He always uses such long \\'ords. If you sneeze, he will immediately begin to demonstrate to you precisely why you sneezed and why you did not cough If lie praises you, it 's exactly as tlioiigh he were promoting you in rank He will begin to revile him- 89 RUDIN self, and will besmear himself with mud. Well, voii think to yourself, now he will not look at God's daylight. Not a bit of it; he will even get jolly, as though he had been treating himself to bitter vodka." Pandalevsky was afraid of Riidin, and courted him cautiously. VolyntzefF found himself on strange terms with him. Rudin called him a knight, and lauded him to his face and behind his back ; but Volyntzeff could not bring himself to like Rudin, and on every occasion experienced an involuntary impatience and vexation when the latter undertook, in his presence, to discuss his merits. " Is n't he laughing at me? " he thought, and his heart stirred witliin him with animosity. Volyntzeff tried to master his feelings, but he was jealous of him and Natalya. And Rudin himself, although he always greeted Volyntzeff noisily, although he called him a knight and borrowed money from him, could hardly be said to be well disposed toward him. It would be difficult to define precisely what these two men felt when, as they shook each other's hands in friendly wise, they gazed into each other's eyes BasistofF continued to worship at Riidin's shrine, and to catch every word of his on the fly. Rudin paid very little attention to him. It happened, once, that he spent a whole morning with him, discussed with him the most important 00 RUDIX world-questions and -problems, and aroused in him the most lively enthusiasm; but then he dropped him It was obvious that in words only did he seek pure and devoted souls. With LezhnyofF, who had begun to frequent Darya Mikliailovna's house, Riidin did not even enter into argument, and seemed to shun him. Lezh- nyofF also treated him coldly, and had not yet pronounced a definitive opinion about him, which greatly disturbed Alexandra Pavlovna. She bowed down before Rudin; but she also trusted Lezhnvoff . Every one in Darva ^Nlikliailovna's » »' * house submitted to Rudin's whims; his slightest wish was fulfilled. The order of the daily occu- pations depended upon him. Not a single partie de plaisir was made up without him. However, lie was not very fond of all sorts of sudden trips and projects, and took part in them as adults take part in children's games, with affable and somewhat bored benevolence. On the other hand, he entered into everything: he discussed with Darya Mikliailovna the arrangements about the estate, the rearing of children, management of property, business affairs in general; he listened to her suggestions, was not annoyed even by de- tails, proposed reforms and innovations. Darya ]\Iikhailovna went into raptures over them, — in words, — and there it ended. In the matter of managing her estate she stuck to the counsels of her steward, an elderly, one-eyed little Russian, 91 RUDIN a good-natured and crafty knave. " Old things are fat, young things are lean," he was wont to say, grinning composedly, and hlinking his single eye. With the exception of Darya ^likhailovna her- self, Riidin chatted with no one so often or so long as with Natalya. He gave her hooks on the sly, confided to her his plans, read her the first pages of his projected articles and works. The sense of them frequently remained inaccessihle to Natalya. But Rudin did not appear to trouhle liimself much about her understanding him, so long as she listened to him. His intimacy with Natalya was not quite to the taste of Darya Mikhailovna. But, she thought, let her chatter with him in the country. She amuses him, like a little girl. There 's no great harm in it, and she will grow cleverer In Petersburg I will change all that. . . . Darya Mikhailovna was mistaken. Natalya did not prattle like a little girl with Rudin; she eagerly drank in his speeches; she tried to pene- trate their meaning; she submitted all her thoughts, her doubts, to his judgment: he was her mentor, her guide. So far, only her head was seething .... but a young head does not seethe long alone. What sweet moments did Natalya live through when, in the park on a bench, in the light, transparent shadows of an ash-tree, Rudin would begin to read aloud to her Goethe's 92 RUDIN " Faust," Hoffmann, or the Letters of Bettina, or Xovalis, pausing constantly and explaining that which seemed obscure to her! She spoke,' German badly, like nearly all of our young la-' dies, but understood it well, and Riidin was com- i pletely immersed in German poetry, in the Ger- man romantic and philosophical world, and drew her after him into those interdicted regions. Xovel, very beautiful, did they lie outspread be- fore her attentive gaze; from the pages of the book which Rudin held in his hands wondrous images, new, brilliant thoughts, fairly poured forth in tinkling streams into her soul and into her heart, agitated by the noble joy of grand sensations; the sacred spark of ecstasy quietly flashed up and grew into a blaze. . . . " Tell me, Dmitry Nikolaitch," she began one day, as she sat at the window over her embroidery- frame; " you will go to Petersburg for the win- ter, will you not? " " I do not know," replied Rudin, dropping upon his knees the book whose pages he was turn- ing over. " If I collect the means, I shall go." He spoke languidly; he felt weary, and had remained indolent since the morning. " It seems to me that you cannot fail to find the means? " Rudin shook his head. " So it seems to you! " And he glanced significantly aside. 98 RUDIN Natiilya was on the point of saying something, but restrained herself. " Look," began Riidin, and pointed with his liand out of tlie window; "you see that apple- tree? It has broken down with the weight and multitude of its own fruit. It is the true em- blem of genius." .... *' It broke because it had no support," replied Natalya. " I understand you, Natalya Alexyeevna; but it is not so easy for a man to find that support." " It seems to me that the sympathy of others .... in any case, isolation . . . ." Natalya became slightly entangled, and blushed. " And what shall you do in the country during the winter? " she hastily added. " What shall I do? I shall complete my great article, you know, about the tragic in life and in art, — I narrated to you the plan of it day be- fore yesterday, — and I shall send it to you." " And you will print it? " " No." " Why not? For whom shall you toil? " " How about toiling for you? " Natalya dropped her eyes. " That is beyond me, Dmitry Nikolaitch! " " Permit me to ask, what is the article about ? " modestly inquired BasistofF, who was sitting at a distance. 94 RUDIX " About the tragic in life and in art," repeated Rudin. " And ^Ir. BasistofF here shall read it also. However, I have not quite got the funda- mental thought into shape yet. I have not yet rendered sufficiently clear to myself the tragic significance of love." Riidin gladly and frequently talked of love. At first, at the word " love " Mile. Boncourt started and pricked up her ears, like an aged regimental horse who hears a bugle, but later on she got used to it, and only pursed up her lips and took snufF at intervals. " It seems to me," remarked Natalya, timidly, " that the tragic thing about love is unhappy love." " Not at all," returned Rudin; " that is, rather, the comic side of love That question must be posed in an entirely different manner .... one must go down deeper Love! "he con- tinued, "everything about it is a mystery: how it comes, how it develops, how it disappears. Xow it makes its appearance suddenly, indubita- bly, joyous as the day; again it smoulders like fire under the ashes, and makes its way like a flame in the soul, when everything is already de- stroyed; now it creeps into the heart, like a ser- pent; again, it suddenly slips out of it Yes, yes; it is a weighty question. Yes, and who loves in our (hiy, wlio dares to love? " And Ru(hn rchij)sed into meditation. 95 RUDIN *' Why have we not seen Sergyei Pavlitch this lonj>' tiiiici' "' lie suddenlv asked. Xatiilya Hushed up, and bent her head over her einbroidery-franie. " I do not know," she whispered. " What an extremely fine and noble man he is!" remarked lliidin, rising. "He is one of the very best specimens of the genuine Russian nobleman." .... . ^Ille. Boncourt gazed at him askance with her little French eyes. Rudin strolled about the room. " Have you observed," he asked, making a sharp turn on his heels, " that on the oak — and the oak is a sturdy tree — the old leaves fall off only when the young ones begin to force their way through ? " " Yes," replied Natalya, slowly; " I have ob- served it." " Exactly the same thing takes place with the old love in a strong heart; it is already dead, but it still hangs on; only another, a new love, can dislodge it." Natalya made no reply. " What does this mean? " she thought. Rudin stood still, shook his hair, and withdrew. And Natalya went to her own room. For a long time she sat in perplexity on her little bed ; for a long time she meditated on Rudin's last words, and suddenly clasped her hands and fell 96 RUDIX to weeping. What she was Aveeping about God only knows. She did not know herself why her tears had flowed forth so suddenly. She wiped them away, but they streamed down afresh, like water from a spring which has long been ac- cumulating. On that same day a conversation about Rudin took place, also,- between Alexandra Pavlovna and I^ezhnyofF. At first he maintained an ob- stinate silence, but she was determined to obtain a categorical answer. " I see," she said, " that you do not like Dmitry Xikolaitch any more than before. I have delib- erately refrained from interrogating you hith- erto; but now you have had an opportunity to convince yourself whether any change has taken place in liim, and I wish to know why you do not like him." " Verv well," retorted LezhnvofF, with his wonted coolness; " if you cannot endure the pres- ent state of things; only, see here, you must not get angry." . . . " Come, begin, begin." " And you must let me say my say to the end." " A^'ery well, very well; begin." " Well, tlien, ma'am," began LezhnyofF, sink- ing down slowly on the divan. " I must inform vou that I reallv do not like Rudin. He is a clever man." 97 RtJDIN "I should think so!" " He is a strikingly clever man, although, in reality, frivolous." . . . " It is easy to say that! " " Although, in reality, frivolous," repeated LezhnyofF; "but that's no harm; we are all frivolous people. I do not even blame him for being a despot in soul, lazy, not very well in- formed." . . . Alexandra Pavlovna clasped her hands. "Not very well informed! Riidin!" she ex- claimed. " Xot very well informed," repeated Lezh- nyofF, in precisely the same tone as before; " he is fond of living at the expense of others, he is playing a part, and so forth .... all that is in the common order of things. But the ugly thing about it is that he is as cold as ice." "He, that fiery spirit, cold!" interrupted Alexandra Pavlovna. " Yes, cold as ice, and he knows it and pre- tends to be fiery. The bad part of it is," con- tinued I^ezhnyoiF, gradually becoming animated, " that he is playing a dangerous game, — not dan- gerous for himself, of course; he would not stake a kopek or a hair on a card himself, but others stake their souls." . . . " Of whom — of what are you talking? I do not imderstand you," said Alexandra Pavlovna. " The bad point is that he is not honest; for 08 RUDIX he is a clever man. He must know the worth of his own words; but he utters them as tliough they cost him something. He is eloquent, there is no disputing that; only his eloquence is not Russian. Yes, and, in conclusion, it is pardon- able for a youth to talk eloquently, but at his age it is disgraceful to take pleasure in the sound of his own speeches. It is disgraceful to show off!" " It seems to me, jNIikhailo ^likliailitch, that for the hearer it makes no difference whether one shows off or not. . . ." " Pardon me, Alexandra Pavlovna, it does make a difference. One person will say a word to me and it will pierce me through and through ; another person will say the same word, or one even more eloquent, and I will not care a jot about it. Why is it thus? " " That is to say, you will not care a jot," inter- rupted Alexandra Pavlovna. " Yes, I will not care a jot," retorted Lezh- nyoff. " I will not even prick up my ears, al- though, perhaps, I do possess large ears. The' fact is that Rudin's words remain mere words,' and they never will become deeds; and, in the meanwhile, those same words may agitate, may ruin a young heart." " But of wliom — of whom are you speaking, Mikliailo Mil^haihtch?" Lezhnyoff paused. 90 RUDIN " You wish to know of whom I am speaking? Of Xatiilya Alexyeevna." Alexan(h'a ravk)vna was disturbed for a mo- ment, but immediately kiughed. " Good gracious! " she began, " what strange ideas you always have! Natalya is still a child; and, after all, if there should be anything in it, can you possibly suppose that Darya Mikhai- lovna . . . ." " Darya Mikhailovna, in the first place, is an egoist, and lives for herself; and, in the second place, she is so confident of her skill in rearing children that it would never enter her head to feel uneasy about them. Fie! How can that be! One moment, one majestic glance, and all will be reduced to servile obedience. That 's the idea of that lady, who imagines that she is a female Maecenas, and a clever person, and God knows what besides; w^hile, as a matter of fact, she is nothing but a horrid, worldly old woman. And Natalya is not a baby; believe me, she meditates more frequently and more profoundly than you and I do. And she — that honest, passionate, and fiery nature — must needs run up against such an actor, such a flirt ! But that is the way things go." " A flirt! Is it he that you are calling a flirt? " " Of course it is he Come, now, tell me yourself, Alexandra Pavlovna, what sort of part is he playing at Darya aNIikhaflovna's? To be an idol, an oracle in a house, to meddle with the )00 RUDIX arrangements, in the family scandals and gos- sip — is that worthy of a man? " Alexandra Pavlovna gazed into Lezhnyoff's face with amazement. " I do not recognise you, ]Mikhailo ^Nlikhai- litch," she said. " You have grown crimson; you are agitated. Really, there must be something else concealed under this." .... "Well, and so there is! Just tell a woman \ something according to your conviction, and she will not rest easy until she devises some petty, irrelevant cause or other which makes j'ou talk in precisely that way and not otherwise." Alexandra Pavlovna waxed angry. " Bravo, Monsieur Lezhnvoff ! You are be- ginning to attack women to match ]\Ir. PigasofF ; but, say what you please, however penetrating you may be, all the same it is difficult for me to believe that you can have understood everybody and ever\i:hing in so brief a space of time. It seems to me that you are mistaken. According to you, Rudin is a sort of Tartuffe." " The point is that lie is not even Tartuffe. Tartuffe at least knew what he was aiming at; ])ut that fellow, with all his cleverness . . . ." " What of him? What of him? Finish your sentence, vou unjust, hateful man!" T.c/hnyoff rose. " T.isten, Alexandra Pavlovna," he began; " it is you who are unjust. It is not I. You are 101 RUDIN vexed with me for my harsh judgment of Rudin; 1 have a right to speak sharply ahoiit him. It is possible that 1 have purehased that right at any- thinu" but a small cost. I know him well ; we lived together for a long time. Remember that I promised to narrate to you some time the story of our life in ISIoscow. Evidently it must be done now. But will you have the patience to hear me out?" " Speak, speak! " " Well, at vour service." Lezhnyoff began to pace the room with de- liberate strides, halting from time to time and bending his head forward. " Perhaps you know," he began, " and perhaps you do not know, that I was early left an orphan, and already in my seventeenth year I had no older person in authority over me. I lived in my aunt's house in Moscow, and did what I pleased. I was rather a frivolous and selfish youngster, was fond of showing off and of bragging. On entering the university, I behaved like a school- boy, and soon got into a row. I will not tell you about that; it is not worth while. I lied, and lied in a pretty odious way The matter was brought to light ; I was convicted and disgraced. .... I lost my self-control, and cried like a child. This took place in the rooms of one of my acquaintances, in the presence of many comrades. All began to laugh loudly at me— all, with the 102 RUDIX exception of one student, who, take note, had been more indignant at me than the rest so long as I was stubborn and would not confess my lie. Whether he felt sorry for me, or for w4iat reason, at all events he put his arm in mine and led me to his own quarters." "That was Rudin?" asked Alexandra Pav- lovna. " Xo; it was not Rudin It was a man; he is dead now .... it was a remarkable man. His name was Pokorsky. I am not able to de- scribe him in a few words, but if one once begins to talk about him he does not care to talk about any one else. Pokorsky lived in a small, low- ceiled chamber, in the upper story of a tiny, an- cient wooden house. He was very poor, and eked out his slender means, after a fashion, by giving lessons. There were times when he could not treat a guest even to a cup of tea, and his only couch was so broken down that it resembled a boat. But, in spite of these inconveniences, a great number of persons visited him. Every one loved him; he drew hearts to him. You will not ])eneve how sweet and merrv it was to sit in his poverty-stricken little chamber. At his quarters I made acquaintance with Riidin. He had al- ready dropped his petty prince." " AVhat was there so peculiar about that Po- korsky?" asked Alexandra Pavlovna. " How sliall I explain it to you? Poetry and 103 RUDIN I truth — those were what attracted every one to him. Tliouo-li possessed of a clear, broad mind, he was as amiable and amusing as a child. To this day, the sound of his lim])i(l laughter rings in my ears; and, at the same time, he " Blazed like the midnight taper Before the shrine of good . . . That was the way one half -crazy and most charm- ing poet of our circle expressed himself about him." " But how did he talk? " Alexandra Pavlovna put another question. " He talked well when he was in the right mood, but not astonishingly. Even then, Riidin was twenty times more eloquent than he." LezhnyofF halted and folded his arms. " Pokorsky and Riidin did not resemble each other. There was a great deal more brilliancy and crash about Riidin, and, if you like, more enthusiasm. He appeared to be far more gifted than Pokorsky, but, as a matter of fact, he was a wretched creature in comparison with him. Rii- din could develop any idea in a superior manner; he argued in a masterly way, but his ideas did not have their birth in his own head; he took them from others, especially from Pokorsky. In as- pect, Pokorsky was quiet and gentle, even weak, was madly fond of women and of going on 104 RUDIX sprees, and allowed no one to affront him. Riidin appeared to be full of fire, boldness, life: but in his soul he was cold, and almost timid, until his self-love was wounded; then he became raving mad. He tried in every way to conquer people for himself, but he conquered them in the name of general principles and ideas, and really exercised a powerful influence on many. No one loved him, it is true ; I was the only one, perhaps, who became attached to him. Thev endured his yoke. . . . All surrendered themselves to Po- korsky of their own accord. On the other hand, Rudin never refused to talk and argue with the first person who came to hand He had not read any too many books, but, at all events, many more than Pokorsky had, and than all the rest of us had ; he had, in addition, a sj^stematic mind, a vast memorv, and vou know that that takes effect on young people. ' Hey there, give me deduc- tions, sum totals, no matter if they are incorrect, only give me totals! ' A thoroughly conscientious man is not suited to that. Try to tell young peo- ple that you cannot give them the whole truth, be- cause you yourself are not in possession of it, and the young people will not even listen to you But neither can you deceive them. It is indis- pensable that you yourself should at least half believe that yon are in possession of the truth. ' .... That is why Riidin acted so powerfully on us follows. You sec, T just told you tliat he 10.5 i RUDIX had read a little, hut he had read philosophical hooks, and iiis head was so constructed tliat from what he had read he immediately extracted all the generalities, grasped the very root of the mat- ter, and then traced straight, brilliant lines of thought from it in all directions, and threw open spiritual perspectives. Our circle then consisted, to speak the honest truth, of boys. Philosophy, art, science, life itself, were all mere words to us, if you like, — even illusory, — very beautiful, but scattered, isolated conceptions. We did not re- cognise any common bond between these concep- tions, any common law of the universe. We felt none, although we talked about it in an obscure way, and endeavoured to form an idea of it In listening to Riidin, it seemed to us, for the first time, that we had grasped that common bond, that the curtain had at last been lifted. Let us admit that he did not utter his own ideas. What of that ? Yet harmonious order was installed in all we knew, all the scattered facts suddenly became united, ranged themselves in order, waxed great y before our eyes, like a building. Everything shone brightly, spirit breathed everywhere. . . . Nothing remained senseless, fortuitous; in every- thing an intelligent necessity and beauty were expressed, everything acquired a clear and, at the same time, mysterious significance; every separate phenomenon of life rang out in har- monious accord ; and we ourselves, with a certain lOG RUDIN holy fear of adoration, with sweet quaking at the heart, felt ourselves to be living vessels of the eternal truth, its instruments, bound to some- thing grand You do not find all this ri- diculous? " "Not in the least!" replied Alexandra Pav- lovna, slowly. "Why do you think so? I do not entirely comprehend you, but I do not find it ridiculous." " Of course we have succeeded in gaining sense since those days," went on Lezhnyoff ; " all that may now strike us as childish But, I re- peat it, we were then indebted to Rudin for a great deal. Pokorsky was incomparably, indis- putably above him ; but he sometimes felt slothful, and held his peace. He was a nervous, sickly man ; on the other hand, when he did unfold his wings — my God! whither did he not soar! Into the very deptlis and azure of heaven ! But in Ru- din, in that handsome and stately young fellow, there was a lot of pettiness; he even indulged in gossip; he liad a passion for meddling with every- tliing, defining and explaining everything. His bustling activity never ceased .... a political nature, ma'am. I am speaking of liini as I knew him then. 15ut, unhap])ily, he has not changed. On the other liand, he lias not altered liis be- liefs .... in thirty years! .... Not every one can say that of liimself." " Sit down," said .^Vlexandra Pavlovna, " wliy 107 RUDIN do you stalk back and forth in the room like a penduliini^ " " 1 feci better so," replied Lczbnyoff . " Well, ma'am, when I got into Pokorsky's set, I nmst inform you, Alexandra Pavlovna, I was com- pletely regenerated: 1 became humble, I asked questions, I studied, I worshipped — in a word, it was exactly as though I had entered some temple or other. Yes; and, in fact, when I recall our meetings — well, by heavens! there was a great deal that was good, even touching, about them. Just imagine for yourself: five or six young fel- lows have gathered together; one tallow candle is burning, very bad tea is served, and with it an- cient — very ancient — rusks; and you ought to have seen all our faces, you ought to have heard our speeches! In every man's eyes there is rap- ture, his cheeks flame, his heart beats, and we talk about God, about truth, about the future of mankind, about poetry. We sometimes talk non- sense, we wax enthusiastic over trifles; but where 's the harm in that? .... Pokorsky sits, with his feet tucked up, with his pale cheek propped on his hand; but his eyes fairly flash. Riidin stands in the middle of the room, and talks, — talks most beautifully, — precisely like the young Demosthenes before the roaring sea; the dishevelled poet, Subbotin, gives vent, from time to time, and as though in his sleep, to abrupt ex- 108 RUDIX clamations; a student of forty, the son of the German pastor Seheller, who bore among us the reputation of a profound thinker, thanks to his everlasting silence, which was never broken by anything whatever, holds his peace somehow in a peculiarly solemn way; even the jolly Shstchitoff, the Aristoj^hanes of our assemblies, is quiet and merely grins; two or three novices are listening witli triump}\ant enjoyment And the night flies on softly and smoothly, as on wings. And now the grey morning begins to appear and we disperse, moved, cheerful, honest, sober (liquor was not even mentioned among us then), with a certain agreeable languor in the soul .... and we even gaze at the stars in a confiding sort of way, as though they had become nearer and more comprehensible Ekh! that was a glorious time, and I am not willing to believe that it was wasted. And it was not wasted — it was not wasted, even for those whom life ren- dered commonplace later on How many times has it been mv lot to encounter such men, mv former comrades! It seems as though a man had ])ecome a perfect wild beast, but no sooner do you mention Pokorsky's name in his presence than all the remnants of nobility begin to stir within him, just as though you had uncorked a forgotten phial of perfume in a dark, dirty room " 109 RUDIN Lezhnvoff ceased; his colourless face had be- come Ihislied. " l?iit why? When did j'Oii quarrel with Ru- din? " said Alexandra Pavlovna, gazing at LezhnyofF in surprise. " I did not quarrel with him, but I parted from him when I came to know him definitively abroad. But I might have quarrelled with him even in ^Moscow. He played me a nasty trick even then." " What was it?'" " It was this: I . . . . how shall I express it to you? .... it does not suit my figure .... but I was always greatly inclined to fall in love." " You? " " Yes, I. It is strange, is it not? Neverthe- less, so it is Well, ma'am, so at that time I fell in love with a very charming young girl. .... But why do you look at me in that way? I might tell you a far more surprising thing about myself." " What is that thing, permit me to ask? " " Well, it was this sort of thing. In those ]Moscow days, I used to go to nocturnal rendez- vous .... with whom do you suppose? .... with a young linden-tree at the end of my garden. I embraced its slender, shapely bole, and it seemed to me that I was embracing all nature, and my heart swelled and melted, as though, in actual fact, all nature were merged in it That 's the sort of fellow I used to be! ... . But what 110 RUDIN of that? Perhaps you think that I did not write verses? I did, ma'am, and even composed a whole drama in imitation of ' jNlanfred.' Among the acting personages there was a spectre with blood on its breast, — and not its own blood either, ob- serve, but the blood of mankind in general Yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am; pray be not amazed. .... But I began to tell you about my love. I had made the acquaintance of a certain young girl. . . ." " And you ceased to go to the tryst with the linden-tree?" asked Alexandra Pavlovna. " I did. The girl was a very amiable and very pretty creature, with clear, merry little eyes and a ringing voice." " You describe well," remarked Alexandra Pavlovna, with a smile. " And vou are a very severe critic," retorted Lezhnyoff . " Well, ma'am, this young girl lived with her old father But I will not enter into details. I will merely tell you that the girl was, in reality, extremely amiable — she was for- ever pouring out three or four glasses of tea for you, when you had asked for only lialf a glass. .... On the third day after I had first met her I was already aglow, and on the seventh day I could contain myself no longer and made a clean ])reast of it all to Riidin. It is impossible for a young man in love not to bab})le, and I confessed the whole thing to lludin. I was then com])letely 111 RUDIN under his influence, and that influence I will say, without circumlocution, was hcncficial in many respects. He was the flrst one wlio did not scorn me, who ruhhed the corners off me. I loved Po- korsky passionately, and felt a certain awe of his spiritual purity; but I stood nearer to Rudin. On learning of my love, he went into indescribable raptures ; he congratulated me, embraced me, and immediately set to work to instruct me, to explain to me the full importance of my new situation. I pricked up my ears Well, you already know how he can talk. His words had a remark- able effect on me. I suddenly conceived an amaz- ing respect for myself; I assumed a serious as- pect, and ceased to laugh. I remember that I even began to walk more cautiously, as though I had in my bosom a vessel filled with precious liquid which I was afraid of spilling I was very happy; the more so, as I was openly favoured. Rudin expressed a desire to make the acquaintance of the object of my affections; and I myself almost insisted on introducing him." " Well, I see — I see now what the point is," interrupted Alexandra Pavlovna. " Rudin robbed you of the object of your affections, and you have not been able to forgive him for that to this day I will wager that I am not mistaken." " And you would lose your wager, Alexandra Pavlovna. You are mistaken. Rudin did not 112 RUDIN rob me of the object of mj" affections, and he did not try to do so ; but, nevertheless, he ruined my happiness, — although, judging the matter coolly, I am now ready to express my thanks to him for that. But at that time I nearly went crazy. Rudin had not the slightest desire to in- jure me. On the contrary. But, as a consequence of his cursed habit of pinning down every move- ment in life — in his own life and in that of others — with a word, as one does a butterfly with a pin, he undertook to explain to both of us our selves, our relations, how we ought to behave; despoti- cally made us render him an account of our feel- ings and thoughts; praised us, reproved us, even entered into correspondence with us. Just imag- ine! .... ^Vell, he completely disconcerted us. I would hardly have married my young lady at that time (I had enough common sense left in me for that ) , but at least she and I might have passed a few glorious months together, after the fashion of Paul and Virginia; and then misun- derstandings would have arisen, and all sorts of strained relations, — all sorts of nonsense would liave come along, in short. It ended thus — that one fine morning Rudin argued himself into the conviction tliat it was his most sacred duty, as a friend, to inform the old father of everything, — and he did it." "You don't say so!" exclaimed Alexandra Pavlovna. Mr. RUBIN " Yes, and observe that he did it with my con- sent—that 's the remarkable tiling about it! ... . 1 rememlMjr to this day what a chaos I carried alM)ut then in my head; everything was simply whirling round and presenting itself as though in a camera-obscura ; white appeared to be black, and black white; falsehood seemed truth, and fantasy seemed duty Eh! Even now I am ashamed to recall it. As for Rudin, he was not cast down .... not a bit of it; he used to soar along, like a swallow over a pond, through all sorts of misunderstandings and complica- tions." " And so you parted from j^our young girl? " inquired Alexandra Pavlovna, ingenuously in- clining her head on one side and elevating her eyebrows. " I did ... . and did it in a bad way, with insulting awkwardness, publicly, and that with- out any necessity for publicity. ... I wept myself, and she wept, and the devil knows what took place Some sort of a Gordian knot had got tied, and it was necessary to cut it, — and it hurt. But ever}i;hing in the world settles itself for the best. She married a fine man, and is thriving now. . . ." " But confess, you cannot yet pardon Rii- din . . . . ," Alexandra Pavlovna began. "Not a bit of it!" ... . interrupted Lezh- nyoff . " I cried like a child when I saw him off 111 RUDIN on his way abroad. But, to tell the truth, the seed was planted in my soul at that time. And when I met him afterward abroad, .... well, I had grown older then, .... Rudin appeared to me in his true light." " What, precisely, was it that you discovered in him? " " Why, everything which I have been saying to you for about an hour past. But enough of him. I only wished to prove to you that if I judge him severely, it is not because I do not know him As for Natalya Alexyeevna, I shall waste no superfluous words on her; but do vou direct vour attention to your brother." " To my brother! What do you mean? " " Why, look at him. Do you notice nothing? " Alexandra Pavlovna dropped her eyes. "You are right," she said; "it is quite true .... for some time past .... my brother has not been like himself. But is it possible that you think . . . ." " IIusli ! I think he is coming this way," ejacu- lated Lezhnyoff, in a whisper. " But Xatalya is not a child, l)elieve me, although, unfortunately, she is as inexperienced as a child. You will see, that young girl will astonish us all." " In what way? " " In this wav .... do vou know tliat it is precisely that sort of girls who drown themselves, take poison, and so forth? Never mind if she is 1]5 KUDIN quiet; lier passions are strong, and her charac- ter — is the same, 61, 61! " " Well, it strikes me that you are dropping into poetry. To such a phlegmatic man as you 1 appear like a volcano, I suppose." " Well, no! " replied I^ezhnyofF, with a smile. " And as for character, — you have no character at all, thank God!" " What sort of impertinence is this? " " This? It is the greatest compliment, I as- sure you. . . ." VolyntzefF entered and looked suspiciously at Lezhnyoff and his sister. He had grown thin of late. Both of them began to talk to him, but he hardly smiled in response to their jests, and looked — as Pigasoff had once expressed himself concerning him — like a sorrowful hare. But, probably, there never yet has existed in the world a man who, at least once in his life, has not looked still worse than that. Voh^ntzefF felt that Na- talya 'vvas receding from him, and, along with her, it seemed that the earth was slipping out from under his feet. ■Jlfi VII The next day was Sunday, and Xatalya rose late. On the previous day she had been very taciturn until evening, being secretly ashamed of her tears, and she had slept very badly. As she sat, half dressed, before her little piano, she now struck chords which were barely audible in order not to awaken ^Nllle. Boncourt, now leaned her brow against the cold keys and remained motion- less for a long time. She kept thinking all the while, not of Riidin himself, but of some word which he had uttered, and was completely ab- sorbed in her meditation. From time to time, VolyntzefF recurred to her mind. She knew that he loved her. But her thought instantly deserted him She felt a strange agitation. In the morning she hastily dressed herself, went down- stairs, and, after bidding her mother good morn- ing, seized advantage of an opportunity and went off alone into the garden. . . . The day was a hot, briglit, radiant day, in spite of showers at intervals. Athwart the blue sky low-hanging, smoke-coloured clouds floated swimmingly witli- out concealing the sun, and from time to time dropped upon the fields abundant streams of a 117 RUDIX sudden and momentary downpour. The large, glittering' drops showered down swiftly, with a certain sharp sound, like diamonds; the sun sparkled through the fine meshes of their net- work; the grass, shortly hefore agitated by the breeze, did not stir, thirstily drinking in the moisture; the soaked trees languidly trembled through all their little leaves; the birds did not cease singing, and it was a joy to hear their volu- ble chirping in the fresh rustle and murmur of the passing rain. The blazing roads smoked, and became somewhat streaked under the sharp blows of the frequent sprinklings. 15 ut now the thun- der-cloud passed over, a little breeze began to flutter its wings, the grass began to be suffused with hues of emerald and gold, .... the leaves of the trees, clinging one to another, became transparent. A powerful odour arose every- where around The sky had almost completely cleared when Natalya went into the garden. It breathed forth freshness and tranquillity — that gentle and happy tranquillity which reacts upon the heart of man with the sweet languor of mysterious sym- pathy and undefined desires Natalya walked along the edge of the pond, down the long avenue of silvery poplars. Sud- denly, in front of her, as though from the earth, Rudin started up. She became confused. He gazed into her face. 118 RUDIN " You are alone? " he asked. "Yes, I am alone," replied Xatalya; "but I came out only for a minute. .... I must go back to the house." " I will accompany you." And he walked by her side. " You seem to be sad i " he said. " I? . . . . And I was about to remark to you that you seem to be out of sorts." " Perhaps I am that way sometimes. It is more excusable in me than in you." " Why? Do you think that I have nothing to feel sad about? " " At your age one must enjoy life." Xatalya advanced several paces in silence. "Dmitry Nikolaitch!" she said. "What?" " Do you remember .... do you remember the comparison which you made yesterday? You remember .... about the oak? " " Well, yes; I remember it. What of it? " Xatalya cast a stealthy glance at Rudin. " Why did you .... what did you mean to sav bv that comparison ? " Rudin bowed his head, and fixed his eyes on the distance. "Xatalya Alexyeevna!" he began, with that repressed and significant expression peculiar to him, which always made the hearer think that liiidin was not uttering the tenth part of that lit) RUDIN whicli was oppressing his soul. — '* Natalya Alex- yccvna! you may have observed that I speak very httle of my past. There are some strings wliich 1 do not touch at all. INIy heart .... what need is there for any one to know what has taken place in it? To expose that on show has always seemed to me a sacrilege. But with you 1 am frank: you arouse my confidence I cannot conceal from you that I have lived and suffered like every one else When and how? It is not worth while to talk about that; but my heart has experienced many joys and many sorrows." Riidin paused for a little. " What I said to you yesterday," he went on, " may be, in some degree, applied to me — to my present position. But, again, this is not worth mentioning. That side of my life has already van- ished. All that remains for me now is to drag myself along the sultry, dusty road, from post- ing-station to station, in a jolting peasant's cart When I shall arrive, and whether I shall arrive, — God knows Let us, rather, talk about you." " Is it possible, Dmitry Nikolaitch," Natalya interrupted him, " that you expect nothing from life?" " Oh, no! I expect a great deal — but not for myself Activity, the bliss of activity, I shall never renounce; but I have renounced en- 120 RUDIN joyment. My hopes, my dreams, and my own personal happiness have nothing in common. Love " (at this word he shrugged his shoulders) — " love is not for me. I .... am not worthy of it. The woman who loves has a right to demand everything from a man, and I can no longer give everything. ^Moreover, pleasing is an affair of youth; I am too old. How should I turn other people's heads? God grant that I may keep my own on my shoulders! " "I understand," said Xatalya; "he who is v/ striving toward a grand goal must no longer think of himself; hut is not a woman capable of valuing such a man? It seems to me, on the contrary, that a woman will sooner turn her back on an egoist. All young men — those youths, ac- cording to you, are egoists — all are engrossed only with themselves, even w^hen thev love. Be- lieve me, a woman is not only capable of under- standing self-sacrifice: she herself understands / how to sacrifice herself." Xatalya's cheeks flushed slightly, and her eyes sparkled. Until her acquaintance with Rudin, she would never have uttered such a long speech and with such fervour. " You have more than once heard my opinion as to the vocation of women," returned Rudin, with a condescending smile. " You know that, in my opinion, Jeanne d'Arc alone could have saved France But that is not the point. I 121 RUDIX wanted to have a talk with you. You are stand- inli a calamity had befallen her since the preceding day. The anguish of ill-defined forebodings began to torment Rudin. In order to distract his thoughts in some manner, he busied himself with Basistoff, chatted a great deal with him, and found in him an ardent, vivacious young fellow with enthusiastic hopes and a faith as yet unshaken. Toward evening, Darya ISIikhailovna showed herself for a couple of hours in the draw- ing-ioom. She treated Rudin amiably, but held herself, in some sort, akx)f, and smiled and frowned by turns, talked through her nose, and chiefly in hints She fairly reeked with the atmosphere of the court lady. Of late she had, as it were, grown rather cool toward Rudin. " What enigma is this? " he said to himself, as he gazed askance at her, with her head erect and even thrown backward. He had not long to wait for the solution of this enigma. On his way to his room, at mid- night, he passed along a dark corridor. Suddenly some one thrust a note into his hand. He glanced round. A young girl — Natalya's maid, it seemed to him — was retreating. He reached his room, dismissed his man, opened the note, and read the following lines traced by Natalya's hand: " Come to-morrow morning, not later than seven o'clock, to Avdiukh's pond, beliind the oak forest. No other time is possible This will be our last meeting; 142 RUDIN ever^-thing will be at an end if. . . . Come. We must reach a decision " P.S. — If I do not come it will mean that we shall not meet again ; in that case I shall let you know." Rudin became thoughtful, turned the note about in his hands, laid it under his pillow, un- dressed, got into bed but did not soon fall asleep, slept lightly, and it was not yet five o'clock when he awoke. IX Avdiukh's pond, beside which Natalya had fixed the meeting with Riidin, had long since ceased to be a pond. Thirty years before the dam had given way, and since that time it had been aban- doned. Only from the flat, even bottom of the ravine, formerly covered with greasy slime, and from the remains of the dam, could it be divined that a pond had once existed there. There had, also, once been a farm-house there. It had long since disappeared. Two huge pine-trees called it to remembrance; the wind was forever rustling and humming in their lofty, sparse verdure. Mysterious rumours were in circulation among the country-people about a terrible crime which was said to have been perpetrated at their base. It was even asserted that neither of them would fall without causing the death of some one; that a third pine had once stood there in former days, which had fallen during a tempest and had crushed a little girl. The whole locality round about the ancient pond was regarded as ac- cursed : empty and bare, but obscure and gloomy even on a sunny day, it seemed still more ob- scure and gloomy from the vicinity of the de- 7 44 RtJDIN crepit oak forest, which had long since died out and dried up. The sparse grey skeletons of the vast trees rose aloft like melancholy spectres above the low undergrowth of bushes. It was painful to look at them; they seemed like mali- cious old men who had met together and were plotting something evil. A narrow, barely indi- cated path wound about on one side. Xo one passed Avdiukli's pond without special necessity. Xatalva had deliberately selected this isolated place. It was not more than half a verst distant from Darya Mikhailovna's house. The sun had long been up when Riidin arrived at Avdiiikh's pond; but it was not a cheerful morning. Dense clouds of a milky hue covered the whole heavens; the wind, whistling and moan- ing, was driving them swiftly onward. Riidin be- gan to pace to and fro along the dam, wliich was covered with adliesive burdock and blackened net- tles. These meetings, these new sensations, en- grossed yet also agitated him, especially after the note of the night before. He perceived that a catastrophe was a]i])roacliing, and he M^as secretly ])ertvH*bed in spirit, altliough no one would have thf)nght so on o])serving the concentrated de- cision wherewith he folded liis arms upon his breast and rolled his eyes about. Pigasoff had once observed, cjuite justly, concerning hini, that his head was incessantly nodding about, like that of a Chinese idol. But from the liead alone, no 145 RUDIN matter how powerful it may be, it is difficult for a man to find out what is taking place within him- self liiidin — clever, penetrating Rudin — was not in a position to say with certainty whether he reallv loved Natalya, whether he were suffer- ing, whether he would suffer on parting with her. Why, without pretending to be a Love- lace, — one must render him that justice, — had he led astray a poor young girl? Why was he wait- ing for her with secret trepidation? To this there is but one answer: No one is so easily carried away as the unimpassioned people. He walked on the dam, but Natalya hastened toward him, straight across the meadow, on the damp grass. " INIy lady! My lady! you will wet your feet," said her maid Masha, who could hardly keep up with her. Natalya paid no heed to her, and ran on with- out looking back. " Akli, if only no one sees us! " Masha kept re- peating. " And 't is a wonder how we got out of the house. If only mam'zell does not wake up ! . . . . Luckily, it is n't far And there he is already — waiting," she added, sud- denly catching sight of Rudin's stately form, standing in a picturesque attitude on the dam. " Only, he oughtn't to stand so on the mound; he ought to have descended into the ravine." Natalya halted. 146 RUDIN " Wait here, ]Masha, by the pine-trees," she said, and descended to the pond. Riidin approached her, and stopped short in amazement. Never yet had he beheld such an expression on her face. Her brows were con- tracted, her hps were tightly compressed, her eyes gazed straight forward, and sternly. " Dmitry Xikolaitch," she began, " we have no time to lose. I have come for five min- utes. I must tell you that mama knows all. ]SIr. Pandalevsky was watching us day before yesterday, and has told her about our meeting. He always has been a spy for mama. Last night she summoned me to her." " My God! " exclaimed Rudin. " This is ter- rible! .... What did vour mother say to you? " " She was not angry with me ; she did not scold me — she only upbraided me for my giddiness." "Is that all?" "Yes; and she announced to me that she would rather see me dead than your wife." "Can she have said that?" " Yes; and she added tliat you yourself were not in the least desirous of marrying me; that you had only been paying court to me idly, out of ennui, and that she had not expected this of you; that, moreover, she herself was to bhime for having jKi-niitted me to see so much of you .... tliat she liad had confidence in my good sense, — that 1 had greatly astonished 147 RtJDIN her .... and I do not remember all she said to me." Natalya uttered all this in a certain even, al- most toneless voice. " And you, Natiilya Alexyeevna, what reply did you make to her?" asked Riidin. " AVhat reply did I make to her? " repeated Natalya " What do you mean to do now? " "My God! My God!" returned Rudin. " This is cruel! So soon! .... such a sudden blow! .... And your mother went into such a rage? " Yes yes, she will not hear of you." " This is dreadful! So there is no hope? " " None whatever." "Why are we so unhappy! That abominable Pandalevsky! .... You ask me, Natalya Alex- yeevna, what I intend to do? My head is in a whirl — I can make no plans I am conscious only of my misfortune. ... I am amazed that you can preserve your coolness!" " Do you think I find it easy? " said Natalya. Riidin began to pace the dam. Natalya never took her eyes from him. " Your mother did not question you? " he said at last. " She did ask me whether I loved you." "Well .... and you?" Natalya remained silent for a little. " I did not tell a falsehood." 148 RUDIX Rudin took her hand. " Always, in everything, noble and magnani- mous! Oh, the heart of a young girl is pure gold! But did vour mother really announce to you so decisively her will in regard to the possibility of our marriage?" "Yes, decisively. I have already told you; she is convinced that you yourself are not think- ing of marrying me." " So she regards me as a deceiver! How have I deserved this? " And Riidin clutched at his head. "Dmitry Xikolaitch," said Natalya, "we are wasting time to no purpose. Remember, - we are seeing each other for the last time. I have not come hither to weep, to complain — you see, I am not weeping — I came for / advice." " But what advice can I give you, Xatalya Alexyeevna? " " What advice? You are a man. I am accus- tomed to trust you, I shall trust you to the end. Tell me, wluit are vour intentions? " " My intentions? Your mother will, in all pro])al)ility, turn me out of the house." " Possibly. She announced to me yesterday that I must break off accjuaintance with you. .... But you do not answer my question." "What question?" " What do you tliink we ougiit to do now? " 149 RUDIN " What ought we to do? " returned Hiidin. j " Submit, of course." "Submit!" repeated Natalya, slowly, and I her lips paled. " SuJ)mit_tQ_iate," went on Rudin. " What is there to do? 1 know but too well how bitter, painful, intolerable it is; but judge for your- self, Natalya Alexyeevna. I am poor. ... I can work, it is true; but even were 1 a wealthy man, would you be capable of enduring the enforced rupture with your family, the wrath of your mo- ther? .... No, Natalya Alexyeevna; that is not to ' be thought of. Obviously, we are not fated to J live together, and the happiness of which I I dreamed is not for me! " Natalya suddenly covered her face with her hands, and fell to weeping. Riidin approached her. "Natalya Alexyeevna! Dear Natalya!" he began, with fervour. " Do not weep, for God's sake! Do not torture me; cheer up." Natalya raised her head. " You tell me to cheer up," she began, and her ^ eyes flashed through her tears. " I am not weep- ing over that which you suppose That does not pain me; what pains me is, that I have been deceived in you What! I come to you for advice, and at what a moment! — and your first word is — ' Submit.' Submit! .... So that is the way you apply to practice your explanations of \ freedom, of sacrifices A\'hich. ..." 150 RUDIN Her voice broke. " But, Xatalya Alexyeevna," began the dis- concerted Riidin, " remember .... I do not renounce my words .... only. ..." " You asked me," she went on, with renewed force, " what answer I made to my mother when she declared to me that she would sooner consent to my death than to my marriage with you. I answered her that I would sooner die than marry any one else But you say, ' Submit ' ! So she was right ; you really have been making sport of me, through the lack of something to do, because you were bored. ..." " I swear to you, Xatalya Alexyeevna, .... I assure you. ..." repeated Rudin. But she did not listen to him. " Why did not you stop me? Why did you yourself. . . . Or did you not anticipate any obstacles? I am ashamed to speak of this — but, you see, everything is at an end now." " You must calm yourself, Natalya Alex- yeevna," Rudin began. " We must consider to- gether what means. ..." " You liave talked so often of self-sacrifice," / she interrupted ; " but, do you know, if you had said to me to-day, just now, ' I love thee, but I cannot marry thee; I cannot answer for tlie fu- ture. Give me thy hand and follow me ' — do you know that I would have gone with you; do you know that I had made uj) my mind to everything? But, in truth, it is a long way from words to -f 151 RUDIN 4^ deeds, and you have lost courage now, just as you did day before yesterday, at dinner, in the ^ presence of A'olyntzeff." Tlie colour flew to Rudin's face. Natalya's unexpected enthusiasm had astounded him; but her last words had stung his self-love. " You are too much irritated now, Natalya Alexyeevna," he began. " You cannot under- stand how cruelly you are wounding me. I H hope that, in time, you will do me justice; you will understand what it has cost me to reject that happiness wliich, as you yoin-self have said, im- posed upon me no obligations. Your peace of mind is more precious to me than anything in the world, and I should be the vilest of men if I could make up my mind to take advantage of . . . ." " Perhaps, perhaps," interrupted Natalya; " perhaps you are right; I do not know what I am saying. But hitherto I have trusted you, I have believed your every word. . . Henceforth, be so good as to weigh your words, do not utter them to the winds. When I told you that I loved you, I knew what that word meant: I was ready for anything. . . . Now, all that re- mains for me to do, is to thank you for the les- son — and to bid you f areweJl ! " " Stop, for God's sake, Natalya Alexyeevna, I entreat you. I do not deserve your scorn, I \ swear to you that I do not. Put yourself in 1.52 RUDIN my position. I am responsible for you to my- self also. If I did not love you with devoted affection — yes, my God! I would, myself, have immediately proposed to you to elope with me. . . Sooner or later, your mother would for- give us . . . and then ... But before thinking of my own happiness . . ." He paused. Xatalya's gaze, fixed straight upon him, confused him. " You are trying to prove to me that you are an honest man, Dmitry Nikolaitch! " she said: — " I do not doubt it. You are not capable of act- ing from calculation; but did I wish to convince myself of that, was it for that that I came hither. . . ." " I did not expect, Xatalya Alexyeevna . . . ." "All! There you have made a slip of the tongue! Yes, you did not expect all this — you did not know me. Do not disturb yourself .... you do not love me, and I force myself on no one. " I do love you! " exclaimed Rudin. "Possiblv; but how do vou love me! I re- ineniber all your words, Dmitry Nikolaitch. Remember, you said to me: ' witiiout complete '^ e(juality, there is no love. . You are too high for me, we are not mates. ... I am rightly pun- ished. Occupations more worthy of you are awaiting you. I shall not forget this day. . . , Farewell ..." V 153 RUDIN " Natiilya Alexyeevna, you are going? Can we part tlius? " lie stretched out his arms toward her. She halted. His heseeching voice, it seemed, had made her waver. "No," she said at last: — "I feel that some- thing within me is hroken. . . I came hither, I talked with you, in a sort of fever; I must re- cover my senses. You yourself have said that tliis must not he, and it shall not be. My God, when I came hither, I mentally bade farewell to my home, to my past, — and what then? whom have I encountered here? a cowardly man. . . . And how did you know that I would be not capable of enduring the separation from my family? ' Your mother does not con- sent . . . this is terrible! ' That is all that I have heard from you. Is this you, is this you, Rudin? No! farewell. . . . Akh! if he had loved me, I should have felt it now, at this mo- \ment. . . No, no, farew^ell!" .... She turned swiftlv round, and ran to Masha, who had long since begun to be uneasy, and to make signs to her. "It is you who have lost courage, not I!" Rudin shouted after Natalya. She no longer paid any attention to him, and hastened, across the field, in the direction of home. She reached her own bed-chamber in safety; but no sooner had she crossed the thresh- 154 RUDIN old, than her forces deserted her, and she fell senseless into ]Masha's arms. But Rudin remained for a long time standing on the dam. At last he started, reached the path with short strides, and walked quietly along it. He was greatly mortified . . . and embittered. " Is that the sort of girl she is? " he said to him- self. "At eighteen yeai's of age! .... No, -' I did not know her. . . . She is a remarkable girl. What strength of will! .... She is right; she is worthy of a different sort of love from that which I felt for her .... Felt? . . ." he asked himself. "Is it possible that I no longer feel love? So this is how it was all bound to end ! How pitiful and insignificant / I was in her presence! " The light rumble of a racing-gig caused Ru- din to raise his eyes. Lezhnyoff was driving toward him, with Iris inevitable trotter. Rudin made him a silent bow, and, as though struck by a sudden thought, turned aside from the road, and walked swiftly in the direction of Darya ]Mikhaik)vna's house. I^ezhnyoff allowed him to depart, gazed after him, and after a brief reflection, also turned his iiorse round — and drove back to VolyntzefF, witli whom he had spent the night. He found him asleep; gave orders that lie was not to be wakened, and while waiting for tea, seated him- self on the balcony, and smoked his pipe. 155 X VoLYNTZEFF I'ose about ten o'clock, and on hear- ing that LezhnyofF was sitting on his balcony, was greatly amazed, and gave orders that he should be invited to his room. "What has happened?" he inquired of him. " Surely, thou didst intend to drive home?" " Yes, I did, but I met INIr. Riidin. . . He was walking alone in the fields, and his face was so disturbed. I took and came back." " Thou hast returned, because thou hast met Rudin? " " That is, to tell the truth, I do not know my- self why I turned back; probably, because I re- called thee to mind; I wanted to sit a while with thee ; and I shall get home in good season " VolyntzefF smiled haughtily. " Yes, it is impossible to think of Riidin now, without also thinking of me .... Servant!" he shouted loudly, — " give us some tea." The friends began to drink tea. Lezhnyoff undertook to talk about farming, about a new method of roofing storehouses with paper. . . . Suddenly, Volyntzeff sprang from his chair, and brought his fist down on the table, with so much force, that the cups and saucers rattled. 156 RUDIN "No!" he exclaimed: — "It is beyond my power to endure this any longer! I will chal- lenge that clever man, and let him shoot me, or I will try to lodg-e a bullet in his learned fore- head! " " What ails thee, what ails thee, for heaven's sake!" muttered Lezhnyoff: — "how canst thou yell so ! I have dropped my pipe ! . . . . What 's the matter with thee ? " " The matter is, that I cannot listen to his name with indifference: all the blood in my body fairly boils." " Enough of that, brother, enough of that! art not thou ashamed of thyself! " returned Lezhnyoff, picking his pipe up from the floor. "Drop it!— Devil take him!" " He has insulted me," went on Volyntzeif , striding about the room. . . " yes! he has in- sulted me. Thou must agree to that. At first, I did not have command of myself: he stunned me; and who could have expected that? But I '11 show him that he cannot jest with me. 1 '11 shoot him down like a partridge, the cursed philosopher! " " Much wilt thou gain by that, certainly! I am not speaking of thy sister now. Of course, thou art tempest-tossed with ])as.si()n . . . how can one expect thee to think of thy sister! And so far as the other person is concerned, thinkest 157 RUDIN thou that, by killing tlie philosopher, thou wilt set thine own affairs right?" Volyntzeff flung himself into an easy chair. " Then I '11 go off somewhere! For her my heart is overwhelmed with anguish; I simply cannot find a place anywhere." " Thou wilt go off . . . that is quite another matter! I agree to that. And dost thou know what I would like to propose to thee. Let us go together — to the Caucasus, or simply to Little Russia, to eat dumplings. That 's splendid, my dear fellow! " "Yes; but with whom shall we leave my sister? " " And why should not Alexandra Pavlovna go with us? By heavens, that 's a capital expedi- ent. As for looking after her — I '11 undertake to do that! She shall not want for anything; if she takes a fancy, I will arrange a serenade under her window every evening; I '11 scent the postilions with eau de cologne, I '11 stick flowers all along the roads. And thou and I, brother, will simply begin life over again; we'll enjoy ourselves so, we '11 come back with such fat paunches, that no love whatever will pierce us! " " Thou art always jesting, Misha! " " I 'm not jesting at all. That was a brilliant thought that occurred to thee." "No! nonsense!" cried Volyntzeff again; — " I want to fight, to fight with him! "... 158 RUDIX "'What, again! Well, brother, thou certainly hast the blind staggers to-day!" . . . A man-sen-ant entered with a letter in his hand. "From whom?" inquired LezhnyofF. " From Riidin, Dmitry Xikolaevitch. The Lasunskys' man brought it." "From Riidin?" repeated Volyntzeff: — "to whom? " " To you, sir." " To me? . . . give it here." VolvntzeiF seized the letter, hastily broke the seal, and began to read. LezhnyofF watched him attentively: a strange, almost joyful sur- prise was depicted on Volyntzeff's face; he dropped his hands. " What is it? " asked Lezhnyoff. " Read it," said Volyntzeff in a low voice, and handed him the letter. Lezhnyoff began to read. This is what Rudin had written : " Dear Sir, Sergyei Pavlovitch ! " To-day I leave Darya Mikhaflovna's house, and I leave it forever. This will, probably, surprise you, especially after what took place yesterday. I cannot explain to you precisely what causes me to act thus ; but it seems to me that, for some reason or other, I ought to inform you of my departure. You do not like me, and you even regard me as a bad man. I have no in- 159 RUDIN * tcntioii of" justil'vin^' iiiyscli": time will justify inc. In my o{)inii)Ji, it is both unworthy and useless for a man to demonstrate to a prejudiced person the injustice of his prejudice. He who wishes to understand nie, will pardon me, and he who will not, or cannot understand — that person's accusations do not affect me. I have been mistaken in you. In my eyes, you will remain, as here- tofore, a noble and honourable man ; but I had supposed that you would know how to stand on a higher level than the sphere in which you have grown up .... I was in error. What is to be done.'' It is not the first, and it will not be the last time. I repeat to you : I am going away. I wish you happiness. You must agree with me, that that wish is thoroughly disinterested, and I hope, that you will now be happy. Perhaps, in the course of time, j^ou will change your opinion about me. Whether we shall ever meet again, I know not, but, in any case, ( I remain, yours with sincere respect — " D. R." " P.S. I will send you the two hundred rubles which I owe you, as soon as I reach my own home, in the country, in the Government of T * * * I will also re- quest you not to mention this letter in the presence of Darya Mikhailovna. " P.P.S. One last, but important request: as I am now going away, I trust that you will not mention my visit to you, in Natalya Alexyeevna's presence. . » " Well, what hast thou to say? " inquired Vol- yntzeff', as soon as LezhnyofF had finished the letter. " ^^^lat is there to say!" returned Lezh- 160 RUDIX nyofF, — "exclaim, in Oriental fashion: 'Allah! Allah ! ' and thrust your finger into your mouth with amazement — that is all that one can do. He is going away .... Well! ^Nlay his path be as smooth as a table-cloth ! But here 's the curi- ous part of it: he regarded it as his duty, to write you this letter, and he presented himself to you, from a sense of duty It is duty at every step, with these gentlemen,— and duty," added LezhnyofF, pointing, with a grin, to the postscript. "And what phrases he gets off!" exclaimed Volyntzeff. — " ' He has been mistaken in me: he expected that I would stand on a higher level than the sphere. . .' What nonsense, oh. Lord! it's worse than poetry!" Lezhnyoff made no reply ; only his eye smiled. Volyntzeff rose. " I wish to go to Darya ^Nlikhailovna's," said he: — " I want to find out what all tliis means . . . ." " Wait, brotlier: give him a chance to take himself off. ^Vhat 's the use of thy coming into collision with him again? He 's going to vanish, you see, and what more dost thou want? Better lie down and take a nap; for thou hast been tossing from side to side all niglit long. But now, tliy affairs are mending . . . ." " From what dost thou draw that conclu- sion? 101 RUDIN ** Why, it seems so to me. Really, it will be better to take a nap ; and I will go to thy sisteiv and sit with her." " I have not the slightest desire to sleep. Why should I sleep? I had better go and survey the field," said Volyntzeff, adjusting the skirts of his coat. " All right, go along, my dear fellow, go along, survey the field." . . . And LezhnyofF betook himself to Alexandra Pavlovna's part of the house. He found her in the drawing-room. She greeted him amiably. She was always delighted at his arrival; but her face remained sad. Rudin's visit of the day before had disquieted her. " Do you come from my brother? " she asked Lezhnyoff : — " how is he to-day? " " All right, he is going to survey the field." Alexandra Pavlovna said nothing for a while. " Tell me, please," she began, attentively in- specting the border of her handkerchief: — " do not you know, why . . . ." " Riidin came?" interpolated Lezhnyoff: — " Yes, I know: he came to say farewell." Alexandra Pavlovna raised her head. "What — to say farewell?" "Yes. Haven't you heard? He is leaving Darya INIikhailovna's." " He is leaving? " " Forever : at all events, so he says." 162 RUDIN " But, good gracious, how am I tc under- stand that, after all that . . . ." " But that 's another matter! It is impossible to understand it, but so it is. Something must have happened there. He drew the chord too tight — and it broke." " Mikhailo ^likiiailitch! " began Alexandra Pavlovna: — " I understand nothing; it seems to me, that you are laughing at me " " But I am not, God is my witness. ... I tell you, that he is going away, and he has even announced it by letter to his acquaintances. It 's not a bad thing, if j^ou like, from certain points of view; but his departure has prevented the realisation of one astonishing enterprise, which your brother and I had begun to discuss." " What is that? What enterprise? " " Why, this. I suggested to your brother to go away, for diversion, to travel, and to take you with him. I took it upon myself to attend upon you . . ." " Very fine, indeed ! " exclaimed Alexandra Pavlovna: — " I can imagine how you would at- tend upon me. You would starve me to death." " You say that, Alexandra Pavlovna, because you do not know me. You think that I am a perfect })oo})y, or some sort of a wooden thing; but are you aware, that I am capable of melting like sugar, of spending whole days on my knees? " RUDIN " I must confess, I should like to see that! " Lezhnyoft* suddenly rose. — " Then marry me, Alexandra Pavlovna, and you shall see it all." Alexandra Pavlovna blushed to her very ears. " AVhat do you mean, JNIikliailo JNIikhailitch? " she repeated, in confusion. " Why, what I said," replied Lezhnyoff : — *' what has already been on the tip of my tongue a thousand times. I have blurted it out at last, and you may act as you see fit. But, in order not to embarrass you, I will withdraw now. If you will be my wife ... I will retire. If it is not repulsive to you, only have me called : I shall understand. . ." Alexandra Pavlovna tried to detain Lezh- nyoff, but he briskly left the room, and went into the garden, without his hat, where he leaned his arms on the wicket-gate, and began to stare off somewhere in the distance. " jNIikhailo INIikhailitch ! " rang out the maid's voice behind him: — "Please come to my lady. She has ordered me to simimon you." Mikhailo Mikhailitch turned round, took the maid's head in his hands, to her great amaze- ment, kissed her on the brow, and went to Alex- andra Pavlovna. Ifi4i XI Ox reaching home, immediately after his en- counter with LezhnyofF, Rudin locked himself up in his chamber and wrote two letters: — one to A^olyntzeff (which is already known to the reader), and the other to Natalya. He sat for a long time over this second letter, crossed out and re-wrote a great deal of it, and after care- fully copying it on a thin sheet of note-paper, folded it into as small a compass as possible, and placed it in his pocket. With sorrow in his face, he walked back and forth several times through the room, sat down in an arm-chair near the win- dow, and propped himself on his elbows; the tears started softly out upon his eyelashes. . . He rose, buttoned his coat to the throat, sum- moned a man-servant, and ordered him to in- quire of Darya ^likhailovna, whether she could see him. The man speedily returned and announced, tliat Darya Mikhailovna had given commands that he should be invited to come to her. Kudin went to licr. She received him in lier ])()ud()ir, as on the first occasion, two months previously. But this time, RUDIN she was not alone; Pandalevsky was sitting by her side, modest, fresh, neat and full of emotion, as usual. Darya INIikhailovna greeted Riidin with amia- bility, and Riidin saluted her amiably, but, at the first glance into the faces of both, a per- son of any experience whatever, would have un- derstood, that something unpleasant had taken place between them, even if it had not been put into words. Rudin knew that Darya Mikhai- lovna was angry with him. Darya Mikhailovna suspected that he was already informed of every- thing. Pandalevsky's denunciation had disturbed her greatly. Worldly pride had begun to stir within her. Rudin, poor, without official rank, and, so far, an unknown man, had dared to make an ap- pointment for a meeting with her daughter — the daughter of Darya Mikhailovna Lasunsky! ! ! " Let us admit that he is clever, that he is a genius!" she had said: — "Yet, what does that prove? After this, any man may hope to become my son-in-law? " " For a long time, I could not believe my eyes," Pandalevsky had interpolated. " I am amazed that he should not know his place ! " Darya Mikhailovna had been extremely agi- tated, and she had made Natalya smart for it. She invited Rudin to take a seat. He sat down, but no longer in the manner of the for- 166 RUDIN mer Rudin, almost as though he were the masterv^ of the house, not even hke a close acquaintance, but like a visitor, and not even like an intimate visitor. All this had been accomplished in one instant. . . . Just so does water become con- verted into firm ice. " I have come to you, Darya Mikliailovna! " began Riidin : — "to thank you once more for your hospitality. I have received news to-day from my little country place, and must go thither this very day, without fail." Darya Mikhailovna gazed intently at Rudin. " He has forestalled me; it must be, that he divines the truth," she thought. " He is reliev- ing me of a painful explanation; so much the better! Long live the clever people!" "Really?" she said aloud. "Akh! how dis- agreeable! Well, what is to be done? I shall hope to see you next winter in INfoscow. We shall soon leave here ourselves." " I do not know, Darya iNIikhailovna, whether T sliall manage to be in Moscow; but if my means admit of tliat, I shall regard it as my duty to call upon you." " Aha, my good fellow! " thought Panda- levsky in his turn: "it wasn't so very long ago that thou wcrt })hiying the master here, and now see liow thou art forced to express thyself!" " So you have received unsatisfactory news 167 RUDIN from your village? " he said, with his habitual drawl. " Yes," returned Kudin curtly. "A bad harvest, perhaps?" " Xo .... something else. . . Believe me, Diirya ^likhailovna," added Hudin: — " 1 shall never forget the time I have spent in your house." " And I, Dmitry Nikolaitch, shall always re- call with pleasure my acquaintance with you. . . . When do you set out? " " To-day, after dinner." " So soon! . . . Well, I wish you a prosper- ous journey. But, in case your affairs do not detain you, perhaps j^ou will still find us here." " It is hardly likely that I shall have time," replied Rudin and rose. " Pardon me," he added: — " I cannot repay my debt to you at the I^ resent moment; but as soon as I reach my estate . . . ." "Stop, Dmitry Nikolaitch!" Darya Mikhai- lovna interrupted him: — "aren't you ashamed of yourself! . . . But what time is it? " she asked. Pandalevsky pulled a gold enamelled watch from his waistcoat pocket, and looked at it, cau- tiously, leaning his rosy cheek upon his firm, white collar. " Thirty-three minutes past two," he said. " It is time to dress," remarked Darya Mi- khailovna. " Farewell for the present, Dmitry Nikolaitch!" 168 RUDIN Rudin rose. The whole conversation between him and Darya ^Mikhailovna had borne a pecu- har imprint. In this fashion do actors rehearse their parts, in this fashion do diplomats at con- ferences exchange phrases which have been agreed ujDon in advance. . . Rudin left the room. He knew now, by expe- rience, how society people do not even cast aside, but simply drop a man, who has become unne- cessary to them: like a glove, after a ball, like the wrapper from confects, like a ticket in a so- ciety lottery, which has not drawn a prize. He hastily packed his things, and began im- patiently to await the moment of departure. Every one in the household was greatly sur- prised, on learning his intention; people even stared at him in astonishment. BasistofF did not hide his grief. Xatalya openly shunned Ru- din. She tried to avoid meeting his gaze; nev- ertheless, he succeeded in thrusting his letter into her hand. After dinner, Darya Mikhai- lovna once more repeated, that she hoj^ed to see him again before their departure for Moscow, but Rudin made her no reply. Pandalevsky ad- dressed him more frequently than any one else. More than once, Rudin felt strongly inclined to fling hinisc'lf upon liim, and cleave open his blooming, rosy face. Mile. ]5oncourt cast fre- (juent glances at lit'idin, with a crafty and strange expression in her eyes; that sort of ex- pression can sometimes be seen in aged, very in- 109 RUDIN telligent setter dogs. ..." Ehe! " she appeared to be saying to herself: — " you 've caught it now ! At last, six o'clock struck, and Rudin's taran- tas was brought round to the door. He began hastily to take leave of them all. His spirit was in a very evil 2:)light. He had not anticipated that he would make his exit from that house after this fashion: it was as though he were being expelled. ..." How has all this come to pass! and what need was there for me to hurry? How- ever, it 's all the same in the end " — that is what he w^as thinking, as he bowed on all sides, with a constrained smile. For the last time, he looked at Natalya, and his heart was stirred within him: her eyes were fixed upon him in sorrowful, fare- well reproach. He ran briskly down the steps, and sprang into his tarantas. EasistofF had offered to es- cort him to the railway station, and took his seat beside him. " Do you remember," began Rudin, as soon as the tarantas had emerged from the courtyard upon the broad road, bordered with fir-trees: — " do you remember what Don Quixote said to his squire, when he emerged from the Duchess's palace? ' Liberty,' said he, ' my friend Sancho, is one of man's most precious possessions, and happy is he on whom heaven hath bestowed a morsel of bread, who is not compelled to be in- 170 RUDIN debted for it to any one ! ' What Don Quixote felt then, I feel now God grant, my good BasistofF, that you may some day experi- ence this feeling! " BasistofF squeezed Rudin's hand, and the heart of the honest young fellow beat violently in his deeply aiFected breast. Riidin discoursed all the way to the railway station, on the dignity of man, on the significance of genuine freedom, — discoursed fervently, nobly and justly — and when the moment of parting came, Basistoff could endure it no longer, flung himself on his neck, and burst out sobbing. Tears streamed down Rudin's face also; but he did not weep be- cause he was parting with BasistofF, and his tears were the tears of self-love. Xatalya went to her own room and read Ru- din's letter. " My dear Natalya Alexyeevna — " he had written to her — " I have decided to go away. There is no other issue for me. I have decided to go away, before I am told, in plain terms, to begone. With my departure, all misunderstandings will come to an end ; and it is hardly likely that any one will pity me. What else could I ex- pect? . . . All this is so; but why should I write to you ? " I uiM parting from you, j)r()l)ably forever, and it would be too bitter to leave you a iiuinory of myself still worse than that which I iiurit. Tiiat is why I am writing to yuu. I do not wish tit her to defend myself, in RUDIN or to blame an}- one except inj'self: I wisli, so far as possible, to explain myself The events of the last few days have been so unexpected, so sudden. . . . " Our meeting of to-day will serve mc as a memorable lesson. Yes, you are right : I did not know you, but I thought I knew you ! In the course of my life, I have had to deal with all sorts of people, I have been closely acquainted with many women and young girls ; but when I met you, I met, for the fii'st time, a perfectly honour- able and upright soul. I was not accustomed to this, and I did not know how to appreciate you. I felt drawn towards you, from the very first day of our acquaintance — you may have noticed it. I passed hours and hours in your societ}"^, and yet I did not learn to know you ; I hardly even tried to know you .... and I could im- agine that I had fallen in love with you ! ! For that sin I am now punished. ^ " Once before, I loved a woman, and she loved me. . . . My feeling for her was complicated, as was hers for me ; but, as she herself was not simple, it was fitting. The truth did not make itself felt by me then: I did not recognise it, and now, when it stood before me, I recognised it, at last, but too late. . . . The past cannot be brought back. , . . Our lives might have been merged in one — and they will never be merged. How can I prove to you, that I might have loved you with real love — with the love of the heart, not of the imagination — when I myself do not know whether I am \ capable or not of such a love! " Nature has endowed me with much — that I know, and I will not assume an air of modesty to you, out of false shame, especially now, in moments so bitter, so 172 RUDIX shameful for me. . . . Yes, nature has given me much;v^ but I shall die, without having done an^'thing worthy of my powers, without having left behind me a single beneficent trace. All my wealth will perish in vain; I shall behold no fruits from my seeds. I lack ... I my- self cannot say precisely what is lacking in me. . . What I lack is, in all probability, that without which it is as impossible to move the hearts of men, as it is to subdue the hearts of women ; and sovereignty over minds alone is both uncertain and useless. Strange, almost comic is m}' fate : I surrender the whole of myself, eagerly, com- pletely — and cannot surrender myself. I shall end by sacrificing myself for some nonsense or other, in which I shall not even believe. . . ]\Iy God ! the idea of being still engaged, at the age of thirty-five, in preparing to ^ do something! ... v " I shall never again speak out my sentiments to any one — this is my dying confession. " But enough about me. I wish to speak about you, to give you a few counsels : I am fit for nothing else .... you are still young, but no matter how long you may live, always follow the intuitions of your heart, do not surrender yourself to your own mind, nor to the mind of any one else. Believe me, tlie more simple, the more restricted the circle in which life flows on, the better; the important point docs not lie in seeking out new sides of it, but in having all its transitions accomplished in their proper season. ' Blessed is he, who has been young from his youth ' . . But I observe, tliat these counsels apply much more to me, than they do to you. " I will confess to you, Natalya Alexycevna, that I am very heavy at heart. I liave never deceived myself, 173 RUDIN as to the clinracter of the feehng which I inspired in Durva Mikhailovna; but I hoped, that I had found, at least a temporary harbour. . . . Now, once more, I must roam about the world. ^Vhat will compensate to me for your conversation, your presence, your attentive, and intelligent gaze.'' ... I myself am to blame; but you nuist agree with me, that fate has seemed deliberately to mock at us. A week ago, I hardly suspected that I loved you. . Day before yesterday evening, in the gar- den, I heard, for the first time, from you . . . but why recall to you that which you then said — and now, to-day, I am going away, going away in disgrace, after a cruel explanation with 3'ou, and bearing with me not the slightest hope. . . And even yet, you do not know to what an extent I am to blame towards you. . . There is in me a certain stupid frankness, a certain loquacity. . . . But why speak of that? I am going away forever." (Here Rudin had an idea of recounting to Natalya his visit to Volyntzeff , but changed his mind, and erased all that passage, but added the second postscript to his letter to Volyntzeff). " I shall remain alone on earth, in order to devote my- self, as you said to me this morning, with a cruel sneer, to occupations more suited to me. Alas ! if I could really devote myself to those occupations, conquer my indolence at last But no! I shall remain the same incomplete creature as I have been hitherto. . . . At the very first obstacle — I am completely scattered to the winds ; the affair with you has demonstrated that to me. If I had, at least, but offered my love as a sacrifice 174 RUDIN to my future occupation, to my vocation ; but I was simply frightened at the responsibility, which had fallen upon me, and therefore, in very truth, I am unworthy of you. I am not worthy of your wresting yourself out of your sphere for me. . . And, after all, perhaps it is ill for the best. Perhaps I shall emerge from this trial purer and stronger. " I wish you the fulness of happiness. Farewell ! Think of me, now and then. I hope that you will yet hear of me. " RtjDIN." Natalya dropped Rudin's letter on her lap, and sat for a long time motionless, with her eyes riveted on the floor. This letter, more clearly than all possible arguments, proved to her how thoroughly in the right she had been when, on parting from Rudin that morning, she had in- voluntarily exclaimed, that he did not love her! But she felt none the more at ease for that. She sat motionless; it seemed to her, as though some sort of dark waves were closing in, without a j)lash, above her head, and she was sinking to the bottom, growing stiff and dumb as she went. Every one finds the first disillusionment painful ; but for the sincere soul, which does not wish to de- ceive itself, which is alien to frivolity and exag- geration, it is almost beyond endurance. Na- talya recalled her cbildbood, when, during her evening strolls, she was always striving to go in the direction of the bi-ight rim of the sky, 175 RUDIN thither wliere the glow of sunset burned, and not toward tlie dark. Life now stood dark before her, and she had turned her back on the lioht. . . . Tears sprang to Natalya's eyes. Tears are not always beneficent. They are consoling and healing, when, after having, for a long time, seethed in the breast, they flow at last — first vio- lently, then more and more gently, more sweetly ; they dissolve the dumb torture of grief. . . . But if they be cold tears which flow sparingly: the woe which lies like a heavy, immovable burden on the heart, crushes them out, drop by drop; they are devoid of consolation, and they bring no relief. Want weeps with such tears as these, and he has not yet been unhappy who has not shed them. Natalya made acquaintance with them on that day. Two hours elapsed, TsTatalya mustered her courage, rose, wiped her eyes, lighted a candle, burned Riidin's letter to the end in its flame, and flung the ashes out of the window. Then she opened Pushkin at haphazard, and read the first lines which met her eye (she often told her fortune in this manner with him). This is what turned up: He who hath felt, that man doth trouble The wraith of days forever gone. . <^ For there is no witchery more, . . . Him doth memory's serpent, Him doth repentance gnaw. . . . • 176 )> I RUDIN She stood, and gazed at herself in the mirror, with a cold smile, and after making a small movement with her head, downwards from above, she went to the drawing-room. Darya jNIikliailovna, as soon as she saw her, bade her come into her boudoir, seated her bv her side, tapped her affectionately on the cheek, and in the meantime, peered attentively, almost cu- riously, into her eves. Darva 3Iikhailovna felt a secret perjDlexity: for the first time it had en- tered her head, that, in reality, she did not know her own daughter. On hearing from Panda- levsky about her meeting with Rudin, she had felt not so much incensed as amazed, that sen- sible Xatalya could make up her mind to such a step. But when she had summoned her to her, and had undertaken to scold her — not in the least as might have been expected from a Euro- pean woman, but in a decidedly shrill and inele- gant manner — Natalya's firm replies, the decision of her glances and movements, had disconcerted* even alarmed, Darya JNIikliailovna. Rudin's abrupt and not entirely comprehensi- ble departure, had removed a great weiglit from Iier heart; but she had expected tears, hysterical attacks. . . . Xatalya's outward composure again IjufHed lier. " Well, my child," began Darya Mikhailovna; — " how art thou to-day? " Natiilya looked at her mother. " He has gone, you know, the object of your 177 IIUUIN ali'ections. Dost thou not know, why he made ready so hastily ? " " ^Nlama! " began Natalya, in a (|uiet voice: — " I pledge thee my word, that if thou thyself wilt not mention his name, thou wilt never hear anything from me." " So thou acknowledgest, that thou wert to blame toward me? " Natalya drooped her head, and repeated: " Thou wilt never hear anything from me." "Well, see that I do not!" returned Darya Mikliailovna, with a smile. " I believe thee. But day before yesterday, dost thou remember how. . . . Well, I will not do it again. It is ended, settled and buried. Is n't it? Here now, I recognise thee again ; but I was pretty nearly at an utter loss. Come, kiss me, my wise one! "... Natalya raised Darya INIikhailovna's hand to her lips, and Darya IMikhailovna kissed her on her bowed head. " Always heed my counsels, do not forget that thou art a Lasunsky and my daughter," she added: — "and thou wilt be happy. And now go- Natalya withdrew in silence. Darya Mikhai- lovna gazed after her, and thought: " She takes after me — she also will fall in love: mais aura moins d'ahandon'' And Darya Mikhailovna immersed herself in memories of the past .... of the distant past .... 178 RUDIX Then she ordered ]Mlle. Boncourt to be sum- moned, and sat for a long time with her, the two locked in together. On dismissing her, she called in Pandalevsky. She insisted upon know- ing the real cause of Rudin's departure . . . but Pandalevsky completely reassured her. That was part of his business. On the following day Volvntzeff came with his sister to dinner. Darva iSIikhailovna was always very amiable to him, and on this occasion, she treated him in a particularly caressing manner. It was intolerably painful to Xatalya: but Vol- vntzeff was so respectful, talked to her so tim- idly, that she could not but thank him in her soul. The day passed quietly, in a rather tiresome way, but all, on separating, felt that they had got back into their ordinary rut ; and this means a great deal, a very great deal. Yes, all had got back into their former rut .... all, except Xatalya. When, at last, she was alone, she dragged herself, with difficulty, to her bed, and weary, broken, fell face down upon the i)ill()ws. living seemed to her so bit- ter, and repulsive, and insipid, she felt so ashamed of herself, of her love, of her sorrow, that, at that moment, she would, probably, have consented to die. . . . Many ])ainful days still lay before her, many sleepless nights, of tortur- ing agitation, but she was young — life was only 179 RUDIN just beginning for her, and sooner or later, life asserts itself. \\'liatever blow has been dealt to a man, on the very same day, or on tlie next day at latest — pardon the vulgarity of the compari- son — he will begin to eat, and there you have the first consolation Natalya suffered tortures, she Avas suffering for the first time. . . But first sufferings, like first love, are not repeated, — and God be thanked for that! XII About two j'ears have elapsed. The first daj's of ^lay had arrived. On the balcony of her house sat Alexandra Pavlovna, only no longer Lipin but Lezhnvoff ; it was more than a vear since she had married Mikliailo jNIikhailitch. As in the past, she was charming, but had grown stout of late. In front of the balcony, from which steps led into the garden, a nurse was walking, holding in her arms a baby, in a little white cloak, and with a white pompon on its hat. Alexandra Pavlovna kept glancing at it. The baby was not crying, but was sucking its thumb with dignity, and staring about it. The worthy son of Mikliailo JNIikhailitch was already asserting itself in him. Beside Alexandra Pavlovna, on the balcon}^ sat our old accjuaintance, PigasofF. lie has grown noticea])ly grey, since we parted from him, has become bent and thin, and hisses when he talks; the hissing imparts still more venom to his speeches. . . His spite has not diminished with the years, but his witticisms have lost tlieir point, and he repeats himself more frequently than of yore. Mikhailo Mikhailitch was not at 181 RUDIN home; they were expecting him for tea. The sun liad already set. In the place where it had gone down, a strip of pale-gold, of lemon colour, stretched along the horizon; in the opposite quarter, there were two streaks: one, the lower, blue, the other, the higher up, brilliant purple. Light clouds were melting into the zenith. Everything foreboded steady weather. All at once, PigasofF broke out laughing. " What are you laughing at, Afrikan Sem- yonitch?" inquired Alexandra Pavlovna. " Oh, because . . . Yesterday, I heard a peasant say to his wife — she, the fool, was chat- tering : — ' Don't squeak ! ' . . . That pleased me greatly. Don't squeak! Yes, and as a matter of fact, what can a woman argue about? You know, that I never talk about present company. Our elders were wiser than we. In their fairy- tales, the beauty sits at the window, on her brow is a star, but she never utters a sound. That 's the way it ought to be. But otherwise, judge for yourself: day before yesterday, the wife of our marshal of the nobility, as good as fired a pistol into my brains: she said to me, that she did not like my tendency! Tendency! Come now, would n't it be better for her, and for every- body, if somehow, by some beneficent arrange- ment of nature, she could have suddenly been deprived of the use of her tongue? " " You are just the same as ever, Afrikan 182 RUDIN Semyonitch: you are always attacking us poor women. . . . Do you know, that really is a misfortune, in its way. I am sorry for you." "A misfortune? What are you pleased to mean by that i In the first place, in my opinion, there are only three misfortunes in the world: to live in cold lodgings in the winter, to wear tight boots in summer, and to spend the night in a room where a baby is screaming, which cannot be put to sleep with Persian powder; and, in the second place, I have become the most peaceable of men now. You might even use me as a model in a copy-book! I behave in such a moral way. " You do behave well, there 's no denying it! Xot longer ago than yesterday evening, Elena Antonovna complained of you to me." "You don't say so, ma'am! And what did she tell you, permit me to inquire? " " She told me, that during the whole course of the morning, the only reply you had made to her fiuestions, was, 'What, ma'am? what, ma'am?' and that in such a squeaking voice, to boot." PigasofF broke into a laugh. " And that was a fine idea, you must agree, Alexandra Pavlovna .... hey?" " Remarka])ly! How can you be so impolite to a woman, Afrikan Semyonitch?" "What? Is Elena Antonovna a woman, in your opinion? " 183 RUDIN " What is slie, then, in yours? " " A ch'vini, good gracious, a common drum, the sort that is tluiniped with sticks." . . " Akh, yes!" interrupted Alexandra Pav- lovna, wishing to change the conversation; — " I am told that you are to be congratulated?" "On what?" " On the ending of your law-suit. The Gh- novsky meadows remain your property." " Yes, they do," returned Pigasoff gloomily. " You have been trying to accomplish this for years, and now you seem to be dissatisfied." " I will inform you, Alexandra Pavlovna," said Pigasoff deliberately: — "that nothing can be w^orse and more offensive than happiness which comes too late. It cannot afford you any satisfaction, and, on the other hand, it deprives you of a precious right, — the right to scold and to curse fate. Yes, madam, belated happiness is a bitter and offensive thing." Alexandra Pavlovna merely shrugged her shoulders. " Nurse," she began: — " I think it is time to put INIisha to bed. Bring him hither." And Alexandra Pavlovna busied herself with her son, while Pigasoff took himself off, growl- ing, to another corner of the balcony. All at once, Mikhailo Mikhailitch made his appearance, in his racing-gig, a short distance off, on the road which skirted the garden. In 184 RUDTX front of his horse ran two huge yard-dogs: one yellow, the other grey; he had lately provided himself with them. They were incessantly fight- ing, and dwelt in inseparable friendship. An aged mastiff emerged from the gate to meet them, opened his mouth, as though preparing to ])ark, and wound up by yawning and returning, wagging his tail in a friendly way. " Look, Sasha, — " shouted LezhnyofF from afar to his wife; — " see whom I am bringing to thee." . . . Alexandra Pavlovna did not, on the instant, recognise the man, who was sitting with his back to her husband. " Ah! ]Mr. Basistoff ! " she cried, at last. " 'T is he, 't is he," replied LezhnyofF:—" and what splendid news he has brought. Just wait, thou wilt hear directly." And he drove into the yard. A few moments later, he made his appearance with Basistoff on the balcony. "Hurrah!" he exclaimed, and embraced his wife. — " Seryozha is going to be married!" "To whom?" asked Alexandra Pavlovna, with agitation. " To Xatalya, of course. . . . Our friend, here, has brouglit the news from ^Moscow, and there is a letter for thee. . . Dost thou hear, IVIi- shnk! " he added, catching his son in his arms; — "thine uncle is to be married! . . . Ekh, what 185 RUDIN villainous apathy! he does nothing but blink his eyes ! " He is sleepy," remarked the nurse. " Yes, madam," said Basistoff, approaching Alexandra Pavlovna: — "I have arrived from ^Moscow to-day, with a commission from Darya ^likhailovna — to audit tlie account? of the es- tate. And here is the letter." Alexandra Pavlovna hastily broke the seal of her brother's letter. It consisted of a few lines. In his first transport of joy, he informed his sis- ter, that he had offered himself to Natalya, had received her consent and Darya Mikhailovna's, and promised to write further with the first post, and, though absent, he embraced and kissed them all. It was evident that he had written under a sort of spell. Tea was served, and Basistoff was made to sit down. He was pelted with a hail of questions. Every one, even PigasofF, was delighted at the news he had brought. " Tell me, please," said LezhnyofF, among other things: — " Rumours have reached us con- cerning a certain ^Ir. Kortchagin, — of course, it was nonsense? " (Kortchagin was a handsome young man — a society lion, extremely inflated with pride and importance: he bore himself in a remarkably ma- jestic manner, as though he were not a live man, 186 RUDIX but his own statue, erected by public subscrip- tion. ) " Well, no, it 's not entirely nonsense," re- turned Basistoff, with a smile. " Darya ^li- khailovna favoured him ffreatlv; but Xatalva Alexyeevna would not hear to him." " Yes, and I know him," interpolated Piga- sofF: " he *s a double-flowered blockliead, a thun- dering blockhead .... good gracious! Why, if all people were like him, it would be necessary to demand a lot of money, before one would con- sent to live . . . upon my word! " "Perhaps so," replied Basistoff: — "but he plays a far from insignificant part in society." " Well, that makes no difference! " exclaimed Alexandra Pavlovna: — " I want to have nothing to do with him! Akh, how glad I am for my brother! . . . And is Xatalya cheerful, happy?" " Yes, madam, — she is composed, as usual — you know her, of course — but, apparently, she is contented." The evening passed in pleasant and vivacious conversation. They sat down to supper. " Yes, by the way," inquired LezlinyofF of Basistoff, as he poured him out some claret: — "do you know wliere Ri'idin is?" " I do not know for certain, at present. He\ came to Moscow last winter, for a short time, \ then he went off to Simbirsk with a family; he I 187 RtJDIN N» and I corresponded for a time: in his last letter, he informed me, that he was leaving Simhirsk — he did not say whither he was going — and since i tlien, 1 liave heard nothing ahont him." ''He won't get lost!" interpolated PigasofF: — " he 's sitting somewhere, and preaching. That gentleman will always find two or three worshippers, who will listen to him, with gaping mouths, and lend him money. You '11 see, he '11 end hy dying somewhere in Tzarevokokoshaisk, or in Tchukhlom, in the arms of a very aged spinster, in a wig, who will think of him as the greatest genius in the world. . ." " You express yourself very harshly with re- gard to him," remarked Basistoff in an under- tone, and with displeasure. " I 'm not in the least liarsh ! " — retorted Piga- soff : — " but perfectly just! In my opinion, he 's nothing more than a lickspittle. I had forgotten to tell you," he continued, addressing Lezh- nyofF: — "you see, I made the acquaintance of that Terlakhoff, with whom Riidin went abroad. I should think I did! I should think I did! You cannot imagine what he told me about him — it was enough to make you die with laughing, sim- ply ! It is a notable fact, that all Rudin's friends and followers become, in time, his enemies." " I beg that you will except me from the num- ber of those friends," interrupted Basistoif, hotly. 188 RUDIX "Well, you — that's another matter! We are not talking about you." " But what was it that TerlakhofF told you? " inquired Alexandra Pavlovna. " ^^'hy, he told me a great deal: I cannot re- call all of it. But the very best anecdote of all that happened to Rudin, is this. Uninterrupt- edly developing himself (that sort of gentleman always develops: others, for example, simply sleep, or eat — but they find themselves in the moment of development of sleeping or of eat- ing; isn't that so, Mr. BasistofF? "— BasistofF made no reply). . . "And so, constantly devel- oping, Rudin arrived, by the road of philoso- phy, at the argument, that he ought to fall in love. " He began to look up an object, who should be worthy of such a remarkable syllogism. For- tune smiled u])on him. He made the acquain- tance of a French woman, a very pretty little milliner. The affair took place in a German town, on the Rliine, ])lease to note. He began to call on her, to carry her various books, to talk to her about Xature and Hegel. Can j^ou imagine the situation of the milliner? She took liim for an astronomer. But, you know, he 's a fairly good-looking young fellow; well, he was a foreigner, a Russian, and he caught her fancy. So, at last, he appointed a tryst, and a very po- etical tr^'st: in a gondola, on the river. The 189 RUDIN French woman consented; she dressed herself in her best, and set oif with him in the gondola. Thus they rowed about for a couple of hours. And how do you think he spent all that time? He kept stroking the French woman on the head, gazing meditatively at the sky, and repeat- ing, several times, that he felt a paternal affec- tion for her. Tlie French woman returned home in a rage, and told the whole thing herself, after- wards, to Terlaklioff . That 's the sort of gen- tleman he is ! " And Pigasoff laughed. " You are an old cynic! " remarked Alexan- dra Pavlovna, with vexation : — " and I am more and more convinced that even those who revile Riidin, can say nothing bad of him." " Nothing bad? Upon my word! and how about his forever living at the expense of other people, his borrowing? . . . JNIikhailo Mikhai- litch, he certainly must have borrowed money from you? " "See here, Afrikan Semyonitch!" began Lezhnyoff , and his face assumed a serious ex- pression: — " listen to me: you know, and my wife knows, that I have not felt particularly well disposed toward Rudin of late years, and that I have even frequently condemned him. Never- theless " (Lezhnyoff poured champagne into the glasses), " this is what I propose to you: we have just drunk the health of our dear brother 190 RUDIX and his affianced bride; I now propose to you that we shall drink the health of Dmitry Riidin!" Alexandra Pavlovna and Pigasoff stared at Lezhnyoff with amazement, but BasistofF gave a great start, flushed crimson with delight, and opened his eyes wide. " I know him well," pursued Lezhnyoff: — " his defects are well known to me. They are the more aj^parent, because he, himself, is not a petty man." " Rudin has the temperament of a genius," interpolated BasistofF. " There is some genius in him, I admit," re- \/^ turned Lezhnyoff; — " but as for temperament .... Therein lies his whole misfortune, that I there is no temperament whatever about him. . . . Ikit that is not the point. I wish to speak of that which is good and rare in him. lie has enthusi-\ asm ; and that, believe me, for a phlegmatic man, is the most precious quality of all in our day. We have all become intolerably reasonable and languid: we have fallen asleep, we have con- gealed, and we owe thanks to any man who will, even for an instant, move us and warm us up! \ It is high time! Dost thou remember, Siisha, how 1 once was talking to thee about him, and re- proached him with coldness? I was both right and wrong then. That cohhiess is in his blood — he is not to blame for that — but not in his ^ 191 ' I RUDIN head. He is not an actor, as I termed him, he is not a deceiver, nor a rogue; he lives at other people's expense not like an intriguer, but like a child. . . . Yes, he really will die some- where in poverty and need; but can one hurl a stone at him for that? He will do nothing him- self, precisely because he has no temperament, no blood ; but who has a right to say, that he will not be, has not already been, of use? that his words have not sown many good seeds in young souls, to whom nature has not denied, as it has to him, the power of action, the capacity for carrying out their own projects? Yes, I myself, I was the first to undergo all that experience on myself. . . Sasha knows what Rudin was to me in my youth. I remember, that I, also, asserted that Rudin's words could not affect people; but I was talk- ing then about people like myself, at my pres- ent age, of people already elderly and broken by life. A single false tone in a speech — and all its harmony has vanished for us; but in a young man, happily, the ear is not yet so highly developed, not so spoiled. If the essence of what he hears seems fine to him, what cares he for the tone! He will find the right tone within himself." "Bravo! bravo!" exclaimed Basistoff: — "how justly that was said! As far as Rudin's influence is concerned, I swear to you, that that man not only understood how to shake you to 192 RUDIX ^ the depths, he moved you from your place, he did not let vou halt, he converted vou from the very foundations, he set you on fire! " "Do you hear that!" went on Lezhnyoff, turning to PigasofF: — " what more proof do you need? You attack philosophy; in speaking of it, vou cannot find words sufficientlv scornful. I do not favour it much mvself, and understand very littlfe ahout it: but our j^rincipal misfor- tunes do not arise from philosophy! The artful "^ devices and ravings of philosophy will never get inoculated into the Russian: he possesses too much sound sense for that; but attacks upon every aspiration toward the truth and know- ledge, under the name of philosophy, cannot be permitted. Riidin's misfortvme consists in the fact, that he does not know Russia, and that, really, is a great misfortune. Russia can get along without any one of us, but no one can get i along ^vithout her. Woe to him who thinks so, i twofold woe to him who really does get along (; without her. Cosmopolitanism is nonsense, the | cosmo])oh*te is a cipher, worse than a cipher; out- side of nationality, there is neither art, nor truth, nor life, there is nothing. AVithout physiognomy, / there is not even an ideal face; only a common-! place face is possible without ])hysiognomy. But \ I will say it again, that is not Riidin's fault: it is his fate, a bitter and heavy fate, for which we tv'ill not blame him. It would lead us very far 193 % / RUDIN afield, if we were to undertake to examine into the question — why do Kudins make their appear- ance among us. But let us be grateful to him for what good there is in him. That is easier than it is to be unjust to him, and we have been unjust to him. It is not our business to punish him and it is not necessary: he has punished himself far more harshly than he has deserved. . . And God grant, that imliappiness has expelled all evil from liim, and left in him only what is fine! I drink to the health of Riidin! I drink to the health of the comrade of my best years, I drink to youth, to its hopes, to its aspirations, to its truthfulness and honesty, to everything which made our hearts beat high at the age of twenty, and anything bet- ter than that we have not known and we never shall know in life. . . I drink to thee, O golden age, I drink to the health of Riidin ! " All clinked glasses with LezhnyofF. Basistoff , in his fervour, came near smashing his glass, and drained it off at one draught, while Alexandra Pavlovna pressed Lezhnyoff 's hand. " I did not suspect you, Mikhailo Mikhailitch, of being so eloquent," remarked PigasoiF: — " you are fairly the equal of ]Mr. Riidin himself; it even penetrated me." " I am not in the least eloquent," replied Lezh- nyoff, not without vexation; — "and I think it would be difficult to penetrate you. However, enough of Riidin ; let us talk of something else. . . 194 RUDIX What .... what the deuce is his name? . . . Is Pandalevsky still living at Darya oMikhail- ovna's? " he added, turning to Basistoff. " Of course he is still with her! She has pro- cured a very good position for him." Lezhnyoff grinned. " There 's a fellow who will not die in povertjs vou mav bet on that." Supper came to an end. The guests separated. "\ATien she was left alone with her husband, Al- exandra Pavlovna looked into his face with a smile. " How fine thou wert to-day, jNIisha," she said, caressing his brow with her hand, — " how clev- erly and nobly thou didst speak! But confess, that thou wert a little carried away in favour of Rudin, just as, formerly, thou wert carried away against him." " One does not strike a man who is down .... but I was afraid, then, that he might turn thy head." " No," answered Alexandra Pavlovna ingenu- ously : — " he always seemed to me too learned. I was afraid of him, and did not know what to say in his i)resence. But PigasofF sneered at him quite maliciously to-day, did n't he? " " PigasofF! " said Lezhnyoff. " That is ex- actly why I stood up so hotly for Riidiii, because l*igasoflf' was there. He dares to call Rudin a lickspittle! But in my opinion, his role, the role 195 RUDIN of a Pigtisoff , is a hundred times worse. He is in independent circumstanees, he jeers at every- body, and how he chngs to the (Hstinguished and the rich! Do you know, that that Pigasoff, who reviles everything and everybody with so much rancour, and attacks phik)sophy and women, — do you know, that he, when he was in the service, took bribes, and did other things of that sort? All! And that is precisely the reason! " "Is it possible?" exclaimed Alexandra Pav- lovna. " I did not expect that in the least! .... Listen, ^Misha," she added, after a brief silence : — " I want to ask thee something." . . . "What is it?" " What dost thou think? Will my brother be happy with Natalya? " " How can I tell . . . there is every proba- bility that he will. . . She will command — there 's no use in making a secret of that between ourselves — she is cleverer than he ; but he 's a splendid fellow, and loves her with all his soul. What more woidd you have? Why, here are we — we love each other and are happy, are n t we f Alexandra Pavlovna smiled, and pressed JNIi- khailo INIikhailitch's hand. On that same day, when all that we have nar- rated took place in Alexandra Pavlovna's house, — in one of the distant governments of 196 RUDIX Russia, a wretched basket kibitka^ was jogging along, in the very sultriest part of the day, on the highway, drawn by a troika^ of peasants' horses. On the box, with his legs braced slantwise against the whiffletree, towered up a miserable, grey- haired peasant in a tattered coat, who incessantly jerked at the rope reins, and flourished his small whip; and in the kibitka, on a lean trunk, sat a man of lofty stature, in a foraging cap, and an old, dusty cloak. It was Rudin. He sat with drooping head, and with the visor of his cap pulled down over his eyes. The uneven jolts of the kibitka tossed him from side to side ; he seemed entirely insensible, as though in a doze. At last lie straightened himself up. " When shall we reach the station? " he asked the peasant, who was sitting on the box. " Why, dear little father," replied the peasant, and tugged more vigorously than ever at the reins: — "when we get up the hill, there will be two versts left, not more. . . Come, thou beast! use thy brains. ... I '11 use them for thee! " he added in a shrill voice, and began to lash the off horse. " It seems to me, that thou drivest very badly," lemarkcd Rudin: — "we have been dragging along ever since early morning, and cannot reach * A team nf three horses abreast: the middle horse, a trotter, is between tlie shafts, ronneeted by a wooden areh over his head. The side hf)rses, nttaelicd by traces, fjallop, with heads bent downward ?nd baekward. h'ihiUa, a covered travellinjjc waj^jfon. — Thansi.atoh. 197 RUDIN our destination. Thou hudst better sing some- thing." " Why, what's to be done, dear Httle father! tlie horses, as you see for yourself, are starved to death . . . and tlien again, there 's the heat. And we can't sing: we're not a postihon. . . . You snipe, hey there, you snipe," the peasant suddenly exclaimed, addressing a passer-by in a grey smock and patched bast slippers: — "get out of the way, snipe! " " A pretty sort of coachman thou art! " mut- tered the wayfarer after him, and halted. " Vile little ^Moscow bone! " he added, in a voice filled with censure, shook his head, and hobbled onward. " What art thou about? " put in the wretched little peasant, with pauses, pulling at the shaft- horse: — " Akh, thou art a sly one! truly, a sly one. . . ." The exhausted nags finally managed to crawl to the posting-station. Rudin got out of the ki- bitka, paid the peasant (who did not salute him, and who turned the money over in his palm for a long time — which meant, that he had not re- ceived enough for liquor) , and himself carried his trunk into the posting-house room. One of my acquaintances, who has roamed a great deal about Russia in his time, once made the remark, that if on the walls of the station- room hang pictures representing scenes from the " Prisoner of the Caucasus," or Russian Gener- 198 RUDIX als, then one can promptly procure horses; but if the pictures present the Hfe of the well-known gambler, Georges de Germanic, then the trav- eller need not hope for a speedy departure: he will have an opportunity to admire the curled crest, the white, open-breasted waistcoat, and the extremely tight and short trousers of the gambler in his youth, and his fanatical physiognomy when he, now already an old man, slays his own son, with a chair brandished aloft, in a hovel with a steep roof. In the room which Rudin entered, hung precisely these pictures from " Thirty Years, or the Life of a Gambler." At his shout, the superintendent made his appearance, sleepy (by the way — has anyone ever beheld a superin- tendent who was not sleepy ? ) , and, without even awaiting Rudin's question, announced, in a lan- guid voice, that there were no horses. " How can you tell that there are no horses," said Rudin: — "when you do not even know whither I am going? I came hither with peasant horses." " We have no horses for any direction," replied the superintendent. " But whither are you gomgf " To * * * sk." " There are no horses," repeated the superin- tendent, and left the room. Rudin, in irritation, stepped to the window, and flung his caj) on the table. lie had not changed 190 RUDIN miicli, but liad grown sallow during the last two years; silver threads gleamed here and there among his curls, and his eyes, which were still very liandsome, seemed, somehow, to have grown dull; tiny wrinkles, the traces of bitter and agitating emotions, lay around his mouth, on his cheeks, and on his temples. His clothing was threadbare and old, and no linen was anywhere visible. Evidently, the time of his bloom was past: as the gardeners express it, he had gone to seed. He set about reading the inscriptions on the walls .... the familiar diversion of bored trav- ellers .... when, all of a sudden, the door squeaked, and the superintendent entered. " There are no horses for * * * sk, and there will not be any for a good while," he began, " but there are some going back to * * * off." "To ***off?" said Riidin. "But, good heavens, that is not on my road at all. I am on my way to Penza, but * * * off lies in the direc- tion of TambofF, I think." " What of that? Then you can cross over from TambofF, or, if not, you can turn off from * * * off , somehow or other." Riidin reflected. "Well, all right," he said at last:— "order them to harness the horses. It 's all the same to me; I will go to Tamboff." The horses were soon brought round. Riidin 200 RUDIX carried out his trunk, got into the peasant cart, seated himself, drooped his head as before. There was something helpless and sadly submissive in his bent figure. . . . And the troika crawled along at a leisurely trot, spasmodically jingling its bells. 201 EPILOGUE (Several more years have elapsed.) IT was a chill, autumnal day. A travelling ca- lash drove up to the porch of the chief inn in the Government capital S * * * ; from it, slightly stretching and yawning, alighted a gen- tleman, who was not yet elderly, but who had already succeeded in acquiring that corpulence of body which it has become the custom to desig- nate as respectable. Ascending the stairs to the second storey, he halted at the entrance to a broad corridor, and seeing no one in front of him, he asked for a room, in a loud voice. A door somewhere banged, a long lackey sprang out from behind a small screen, and advanced with a brisk, sidelong gait, flashing through the half- dark corridor with his shining back and tucked-up sleeves. On entering his room, the newcomer immediatelv threw off his overcoat and scarf, seated himself on the divan, and resting his closed fists on his knees, first took a look around him, then gave orders that his servant should be called. The lackey made an evasive movement, and van- ished. The traveller was no other than Lezh- 202 RUDIX nyofF. The recruiting had called him forth from his country estate to S * * *. LezhnvofF's servant, a curlv-headed and rosy- cheeked young fellow, with a sky-blue girdle, and soft felt boots, entered the room. " Well, here now, brother, we have arrived," went on Lezhnyoflf : — " but thou wert in constant fear lest the tire should fly off the wheel." " We have arrived! " returned the servant, try- ing to smile, through the upturned collar of his overcoat; — " but why that tire did n't fly off". . . ." " Is there no one here? " sang out a voice in the corridor. Lezhnyoff* started, and began to listen. "Hey, there! Who's there?" repeated the voice. Lezhnyoff rose, went to the door, and hastily opened it. Before him stood a man of lofty stature, al- most completely grey and bent, in an old vel- \eteen coat with bronze buttons. Lezhnyoff in- stantly recognised him. " Rudin! " he exclaimed with emotion. Riidin turned round. He could not distinguish tlie features of I^ezhnyoff , who was standing with his back to the light, and he gazed at him in per- j)lexity. " Don't vou know me? " said Lezhnyoff. " Mikliailo Mikhailitcli! " cried Rudin, and stretched out his liand, but was smitten with con- 203 KUDIN fusion, and was on the point of drawing it back again. Lezlinyoif hastily grasped it in both of his. " Come in, come in to my rooml " he said to Riidin, and led him in. " How you have changed! " ejaculated Lezh- nyofF, after a pause, and involuntarily lowering his voice. "Yes, they tell me so!" returned Riidin, as his gaze roamed about the room. " It is the years. , , But here are you — the same as ever. How is Alexandra .... your wife? " " Thanks, — she is well. But how do you chance to be here? " " I ? It would take a long time to tell the story. To tell the truth, I came hither quite by accident. I was looking up an acquaintance. However, I am very glad. . ." " Where are you going to dine? " "I? I don't know. In some eating-house or other. I must leave here to-day." " You must? " Rudin smiled significantly. " Yes, sir, I must. I am being sent home, to my country estate, for residence." " Dine with me." Rudin, for the first time, looked Lezhnyoff straight in the eye. " You are proposing that I should dine with you? " he said. 204 RUDIX " Yes, Riidin, in our old way, in comradely fashion. Will you? I had not expected to en- counter you, and God knows when we shall see each other again. You and I must not part thus!" " Very well, I accept." LezhnvofF shook Rudin by the hand, called the servant, ordered dinner, and gave orders that a bottle of champagne should be put on the ice. During the dinner, Lezhnyoff and Rudin, as though by common consent, talked constantly of their student days, recalled many things, many persons — both dead and living. At first, Rudin was reluctant to talk, but he drank several glasses of wine, and his blood began to warm up. At last, the lackey carried out the last dish. Lezh- nyofF rose, locked the door, and returning to the table, seated himself directly opposite Riidin, and quietly rested his chin on both hands. " Well, now," he began: — " tell me everything that has happened to you, since I saw you last." Rudin looked at liCzhnyoff . " My God! — " Lezhnyoif said to liimself once more — " how he has changed, poor fellow! " Riidin's features had undergone little change, especially since we saw him at the posting-station, although the stamp of approaching old age had already become im])rinted on them; but their ex- prcssioTi had become different. His eyes had an- 205 RUDIN other look ; in all his being, in his movements, now leisurely, now incoherently abrupt, and in his chilled, as it were, broken speech, weariness spoke, a secret and quiet grief, very different from that semi-assunicd sadness, of whicli he had been wont to make a display, as youth in general does while full of hope and of confident self-love. Tell you everything that has happened to / me? " he said. " I cannot tell you all, and it is not worth the while. . . I have worn myself out greatly, I have wandered not with the body alone, I have roamed with the soul also. In what and in whom have I not been disenchanted, mv God! with whom have I not come in contact! Yes, with whom!" repeated Rudin, observing that Lezhnyoff w^as looking into his face with a certain special sympathy. " How many times have not my own words become repulsive to me — I am not speaking of them in my own mouth, but on the lips of people who shared my views! How many times have not I passed from the ir- ritability of a baby, to the dull insensibility of a horse, which no longer twitches its tail when it is cut with the whip. . . How many times have not I rejoiced, hoped, grown hostile and humbled my- self in vain ! How many times have I soared with the flight of a falcon — and returned crawling, like a snail, whose shell has been crushed! . . » Where have I not been, by what roads have I not wandered! . . . And the roads are some- ^ 20G RUDIN times dirty," added Rudin, and slightly turned aside. " You know, "he went on. . . . " See here," LezhnyofF interrupted him; — " once on a time, we used to call each other ' thou ' . . . . Wouldst thou like it ? let us re- sume our old habit. . . Let 's drink to thou! " Riidin started, half rose, and in his ej'-es flashed something which words cannot express. "Let us drink!" said he: — "I thank thee, brother, let us drink! " LezhnyofF and Riidin drank oiF a glass. " Thou knowest," began Riidin once more, with emphasis on 'thou' and with a smile: — "there is some sort of a worm within me, which gnaws me, and swallows, and will give me no peace to the end. It brings me into contact with people — at first, they yield to my influence, and later on ... . Riidin waved his hand in the air. " Since I parted from you . . . from thee, I Iiave experienced and learned much. ... I be- gan to live, I undertook something new twenty times — and liere I am! — tliou seest! " " Thou liadst no staying power," remarked / Lezhnyoff*, as tliough to liimself. " How canst thou say, that 1 liad no staying "V- power! . . . 1 have never known liow to construct anything; yes, and 't is difficult to construct, brother, when there is no ground under one's feet, wlien one is com])elled to create one's own -^ 207 RUDIN ^foundation! I will not describe to thee all my peregrinations, that is, properly speaking, all my failures. 1 will give thee two or three instances . . . tliose incidents in my life when, apparently, success was smiling on me, when I had begun to liave hopes of success, — which is not quite the same thing. . . ." Rudin tossed back his grey hair, already thin, M'ith the same movement of the hand wherewith, in days gone by, he had been wont to throw aside his thick, dark curls. " Well, listen," he began. " In Moscow, I became connected with a decidedly peculiar gen- tleman. He was very wealthy, and owned exten- sive estates; he was not in government service. His chief, his sole passion, was a love for science, for science in general. Up to this moment, I cannot comprehend how that passion made its appearance in him! It was as suitable for him as a saddle is for a cow. By dint of exertion alone did he keep himself on the heights of mind, and he hardly knew how to talk, but merely rolled his eyes expressively, and shook his head signifi- cantly. I have never met, my dear fellow, any one less gifted and poorer by nature than he was. . . In the Government of Smolensk, there are spots where there is sand — and nothing else, save here and there grass, which not a single ani- mal will eat. He did easily nothing, everything regularly crawled away from him as far as possi- 208 RUDIX ble: he was crazy over making everji:hing easy difficult. Had it depended on his management, people would have eaten with their heels, indeed thev would. He worked, wrote and read inde- f atigably. He courted science with a certain ob- stinate persistency, with strange patience ; his self- love was huge, and he had a character of iron. He lived alone, and bore the reputation of an eccentric. I made his acquaintance .... well, and he liked me. I must confess, that I soon saw through him; but his zeal touched me. More-i/ over, he possessed such great means, so much good could be done through him, so much real service could be rendered. . . I settled down in his house, and, at last, went off with him to his country place. My plans, brother, were vast: I dreamed of various improvements, innovations " " As at Mme. Lasiinskv's, thou wilt remem- her," remarked LezhnyoiF, with a good-natured smile. " The idea! there, I knew in my own soul, that nothing would come of my words; but in this case . . . a totally different field opened out before me. . . I took with me agronomical books . . . it is true, . . that I had never read a single one of them through to the end .... well, and I set to work. At first, things did not go just as T had expected: but afterwards, they did seem to be moving. ^Ty new friend continued to hold his tongue, and to look on ; lie did not interfere with 200 RUDIN nie, — that is to say, to a certain degree he did not interfere with nie. He accepted my sugges- tions, and carried them out, but obstinately, stiffly, with secret distrust, and gave everything a turn of his own. He set es2)ecial value on every thought of his own. He would climb up it, with an effort, as a lady-bug crawls up a blade of grass; and he would sit and sit on it, as though he were pluming his wings, and getting ready to fly — and, all of a sudden, he would tumble down, and then crawl up again. . . Be not sur- prised at all these comparisons: they fairly seethed in my soul even then. Well, so I strug- gled along in that way for two years. Matters were progressing badly, despite all my pains. I began to grow weary, my friend bored me, I began to say caustic things to him, he smothered me, like a feather-bed; his distrust passed into dull irritation, an unpleasant feeling took pos- session of both of us, we could no longer con- verse about anything; he was underhandedly but incessantly trying to prove to me, that he was not submitting to my influence, my arrangements were either distorted or entirely set aside I noticed, at last, that I stood toward Mr. Landed Proprietor in the quality of a hanger-on in the department of mental exercises. It was bitter for me to waste my time and strength in vain, it was bitter to feel that I had again and again been deceived in my expectations. I knew 210 RUDIX very well what I should lose by going away ; but I could not conquer myself, and one day, as the result of a painful and exciting scene, of which I was a witness, and which showed me my friend from an altogether too unfavourable side, I quar- relled with him definitively and went away, aban- doning the gentleman-pedant moulded of com- mon prairie flour, with an admixture of German molasses " " That is to say, thou didst fling away thy bit of daily bread," remarked Lezhnyoff, and laid both hands on Rudin's shoulders. " Yes, and found myself again light and naked in empty space. ' Fly whithersoever thou wilt,' said I . . . Ekh, let's have a drink!" " To thy health! " said Lezhnyoff, rising and kissing Rudin on the brow. — " To thy health, and in memory of Pokorsky. . . . He, also, knew how to remain poor." " There 's number one, for you, of my pere- grinations," began Rudin, after a little. — " Shall I go on? " " Go on, pray." "Ekh! but I don't feel like talking. I am wear}% I tell thee, brother. . . Well, however, so be it. After knocking about in various places — by the way, I might tell tliee how I came near getting the post of secretary to a well-intentioned dignitary, and what came of it; but that would take us too far. . . . After knocking about in 211 RUDIN various places, I decided, at last, to become .... don't laugli, please ... a man of business, a practical man. It happened in tliis way: I got connected with a certain .... perhaps thou hast heard of him .... with a certain Kur- byeeff . . . . no? " " No, I have not heard of him. But, good gra- cious, Ri'idin, how is it, that, with thy intelligence, thou didst not guess that it was no business of thine to be ... . pardon the pun ... a man of business? " " I know, brother, that it is not; besides, in what does it consist? .... But if thou hadst only seen KurbyeefF! Please do not imagine that he was a sort of empty babbler. People used to say that I was eloquent, in days gone by. But, in V comparison with him, I count for nothing. He was wonderfully learned, well informed, with a head, brother, a creative head, in matters of in- dustry and commercial enterprises. His brain was fairly swarming witli tlie boldest, the most unexpected projects. He and I joined company, and decided to use our forces for a matter of public benefit " "What was it, may I ask?" Riidin dropped his eyes. " Thou wilt laugh." " Why? Xo, I will not laugh." ** We decided to convert one of the rivers in the 212 RUDIX Government of K * * * into a navigable stream," said Riidin, with an awkward smile. " You don't say so! Then that Kurbyeeff must have been a capitalist? " " He was poorer than myself," returned Ru- din, and softly hung his grey head. LezhnyofF burst out laughing, but suddenly stopped, and took Riidin's hand. " Forgive me, brother, pray do," he said to him: — " but I did not, in the least, expect that. Well, and so that enterprise of yours remained on paper? " " Not altogether. There was a beginning of fulfilment. We hired labourers .... well, and they set to work. But then we encountered di- vers obstacles. In the first place, the proprietors of mills would not understand us, and, in addi- tion to that, we could not deal with the water without machinery', and we had not the money for machinery. Six months we lived in earth huts. Kurbyeeff subsisted on bread alone, and T did not eat my fill either. However, I do not regret that: nature is wonderful there. We struggled and struggled, exhorted the merchants, wrote letters and circulars. It ended in my spending my last co])])er on that pi'oject." "Well!"' remarked I.ezhnyofF:— " I do not think it was difliciilt to spend your last copper." " It was not diflicult, exactly so." 213 RUDIN Ri'ulin stared out of the window. " But the project, by heaven, was not a bad one, and niiglit have produced enormous profits." "And what became of Kurbyeeff?" inquired LezhnyofF. " Of him? He is in Siberia now, he has turned gold-miner. And thou wilt see, he will acquire a competence. He will not go to the wall." " Possibly; but thou wilt certainly not acquire a competence." " I? What is to be done! However, I know: I always have been an empty man in thine eyes." " Thou? Hush, brother! There was a time, really, when only thy dark sides were ap- parent to my eye; but now, believe me, I have learned to value thee. Thou wilt not acquire a fortune. . . Yes, and for that I love thee .... upon my w ord ! " Riidin smiled faintly. "Really?" "I respect thee for that!" repeated Lezh- nyoff ; — " dost thou understand me? " Both remained silent for a space. "Well, shall we proceed to number three ? " asked Rudin. " Do me that favour." " At your service. Number three, and the last. I have only just got rid of that number. But am not I boring thee? " " Go on, go on." 214 RUDIN " Well, you see," began Riidin: — " one day I was meditating at leisure. . . I have always had plenty of leisure — and I thought : I have consid- erable knowledge, my desires are good .... see here, thou surely wilt not deny that my desires are good? " "I should think not!" " On all other points, I have suffered more or less defeat . . . wh}^ should not I turn ped- agogue, or, to put it more simplj^ t^acli^r . . . rather than live thus in vain. . ." Rudin paused and sighed. " Rather than live in vain, would it not be bet- ter to endeavour to communicate to others what I know: perchance, they will derive some benefit from my knowledge. JNIy capacities are not ordi- nary, in short, I am a master of language. . . So I determined to devote myself to this new business. I had a good deal of trouble in finding a place; I did not wish to give private lessons; there was nothing for me to do in the lower schools. At last, I succeeded in obtaining the\ post of lecturer in the gymnasium here." y " Lecturer — on what? " asked Lezhnyoff. *' Lecturer on Russian literature. I will tell thee tliis, — never have I undertaken a single af- fair with so much zeal as in this case. The thouglit of acting on youth inspired me. Three weeks did I spend over the composition of my first lecture." 215 RUDIN "Hast thou not got it with thee?" inquired Lezhnyoff. " No; it got lost somewhere. It turned out quite well, and pleased people. I seem to beliold, now, the faces of my auditors, — kind, young- faces, with an expression of open-hearted atten- tion, even of amazement. I mounted the tribune, read my lecture in a fever; I thought there was enough of it to last more than an hour, and in twenty minutes I had finished it. The inspector was sitting there — a dry old man, in silver- mounted spectacles, and a short wig, — he inclined his head in mv direction from time to time. When I had finished, and had sprung from my chair, he said to me : ' Very good, sir, only a trifle high-flown, rather obscure, and, moreover, there was very little said about the subject itself.' But the gymnasium pupils gazed after me with re- spect .... really they did. That 's the pre- cious thing about young people. I delivered my second lecture from manuscript, and the third in the same way . . . and after that, I began to improvise." "And wert successful?" inquired Lezhnyoff. " I was very successful. I imparted to my hearers everything that was in my soul. Among them there were three or four lads, who were reallv remarkable; the rest did not understand me well. However, I must admit, that even those who did understand me sometimes disconcerted 216 RUDIX me by their questions. But I did not become de- spondent. As for loving me, they all did that. But then an intrigue was begun against me . . . .y' or no! there was no intrigue whatever; but I, sim- ply, had got out of my sphere. I embarrassed the others, and they embarrassed me. I lectured to the gymnasium lads, in a manner different from that in which students are always lectured to; my hearers carried but little away from my lectures; ... I was but badly acquainted with facts myself. Moreover, I did not content my- self with the circle of action which had been pre- scribed for me .... thou knowest that that is my weakness. I wanted radical reforms, and I\ give thee my word of honour, that these reforms were practical and easy. I hoped to carry them) out through the director, upon whom I at first liad some influence. His wife helped me. I have met very few such women in the course of my life, brother. She was nearly forty years of age; but she believed in good, she loved everything that was excellent, like a young girl of fifteen, and was not afraid to speak out her convictions before any one whatsoever. I shall never forget her no})le enthusiasm and purity. By her advice, I began to write out a plan. . . But at this point \ was undermined, my rej)utation was ])lackcned to her. T was particularly injured by the teacher of mathematics, a sharj), ])ilious little man, who })clieved in nothing, after the fashion of PigasofF, 217 RUDIN only nnic'li more active than he. . . . By the way, what lias become of Pigasoff, is he still alive (" " " Yes, and just imagine, he has married a wo- man of the petty burgher class, who beats him, they say." " And serve him right! And is Natalya Alex- yeevna well? " 1 es. " Is she happy? " 1 es. Rudin said nothing for a while. " What the deuce was I talking about? .... oh, yes! about the teacher of mathematics. He conceived a hatred for me ; he compared my lec- tures to fireworks, he caught up on the fly every expression that was not entirely clear, he once even contradicted me about some monument or other of the XV century . . . but the chief point was, that he suspected my intentions; my last soap-bubble hit against him, as against a pin, and broke. The inspector, with whom I had not got on from the first, stirred up the director against me; a row ensued; I would not yield, I waxed an- gry, the matter was brought to the knowledge of the authorities ; I was forced to resign. I did not stop there, I tried to prove that they could not treat me like that .... but they can treat me as they please ... I am now compelled to leave this place." 218 KUDIN A silence followed. Both friends sat with drooping heads. Rudin was the first to speak. "Yes, brother," he began: — "now I can say with KoltzofF: ' Whither hast thou led me, hounded me, O my youth, that no longer have I where to set my foot ! ' . . . And, nevertheless, am I good for nothing, is there really no work for me on earth '. I have frequently put that question to myself, and, strive as I might to humble my- self in my own eyes, I nevertheless could not but be conscious of powers within myself, which are not given to all men ! Then why do these powers remain sterile? And here is another thing: dost thou remember, when thou and I were abroad, I was self-conceited and false. . . . The fact was, that I had not then comprehended what I wished, I intoxicated myself with words, and believed in phantoms ; but now, I give thee my word of hon- our, I can declare aloud, in the presence of all the world, everything which I desire. I posi- tively have nothing to conceal: I am thoroughly, and in the most essential meaning of the word, a well-meaning man; I abase myself, I wish to adapt myself to circumstances, I wish for little, I wish to attain to a proximate goal, I wish to be of even the shglitcst use. Xo! I cannot succeed! W'liat is tbe meaning of tliis? Wliat is it that [)revents my living and being active like other ^ people? ... That is tlic only thing I dream of / 219 RUDIN now. But no sooner do I emerge into a definite position, no sooner do 1 halt at a fixed point, than fate fairly thrusts me off to a distance. ... I have begun to fear it — my fate. . . . Why is all thisl" Solve this riddle for me! " "Riddle!" repeated LezhnyofF. "Yes, it is true. Thou hast always been a riddle for me also. Even in thy youth, when, after some petty sally or other, thou wouldst suddenly begin to talk in such a way that the heart quivered, and then wouldst begin again .... well, thou knowest what I mean to say . . . even then, I did not un- derstand thee: that was precisely the reason why I ceased to love thee — there was so much power in thee, so much indefatigable aspiration toward the ideal. . . ." "Words, nothing but words! there were no deeds! " broke in Riidin. " There were no deeds! What deeds. . . ." " What deeds? To support a blind peasant woman and all her family by my labours, as Prya- zhentzoff did, thou wilt remember. , . . There 's a deed for thee." ^ " Yes; but a good word is a deed also." Riidin gazed in silence at Lezhnyoff, and slowly shook his head. Lezhnyoff tried to find something to say, and passed his hand over his face. "And so, thou art going to thy estate?" he asked, at last. 220 RUDIN " Yes." " But hast thou still an estate belonging to thee?" " There is something of that sort left yonder. Two souls and a half. There is a corner wherein to die. Perchance, thou art thinking, at this mo- ment : ' And even now, he could not get along without flowery phrases!' Plu'ases, in point of-/' fact, have been my undoing; they have devoured me to the very end, I have not been able to rid myself of them. But what I have just said is not a mere phrase. These white locks, these wrinkles, are not phrases, brother; these ragged elbows are not plirases. Thou hast always been stern with me, and thou wert just; but this is no time for sternness, when everything is already at an end, and tliere is no more oil in the lamp, and the lamp itself is shattered, and the wick is on the very verge of smoking itself out Death, bro-/ ther, must reconcile, at last " LezhnyofF sprang to his feet. " Rudin! " he exclaimed, " why dost thou say this to me? How have I deserved this from thee? What sort of a judge, and what sort of a man sliould I be, if, at the sight of thy hollow cheeks and wrinkles, the word ' phrases ' could enter my mind? Dost thou wish to know what I think of thee? Ver\'' well! I tliink: here is a man . . . with his capacities, what might not he attain to, what earthly benefits might not he now possess, if 221 RUDIN he only willed it ! . . . . but I meet him hungry, without a shelter " " I arouse thy pity/' said Rudin in a dull voice. " No, there thou art mistaken. Thou inspirest me with respect — that 's M^hat I mean. Who pre- vented thy spending years and years with that landed proprietor, thy friend, who, I am fully convinced, if thou hadst but been willing to knuckle under to him, would have given thee a secure position? Why couldst thou not live in harmony at the gymnasium, why — O strange man! — with whatever designs thou didst begin a thing, hast thou, in every case, inevitably wound up by sacrificing thy personal interests, hast not struck root in evil soil, however rich it might be? " " I was born a rolling stone," continued Rudin with a melancholy smile. " I cannot stop my- self." " That is true; but the reason why thou canst not stop thyself is not, that in thee lives a worm, as thou hast said to me at the beginning of this conversation. . . 'T is not a worm that lives in thee, 't is not the spirit of idle uneasiness, — it is the fire of love for the truth, it burns within thee, and it is evident, despite all thy talk, that it burns in thee more powerfully than in many who do not even regard themselves as egoists, but, in all probability, call thee an intriguer. Yes, I \ would have been the first, had I been in thy place, 222 RUDIN to have forced that worm, long ago, to hold its ^ peace within me, and I would have reconciled myself to everything; but in thee there has not even been an access of bile, and thou, I am con- vinced of it, art ready this very day, this very mo- ment, to set about some new undertaking, like a young lad. " " No, brother, I am weary now," said Rudin. " I have had enough." " Weary! Any one else would have died long ago. Thou sayest that death reconciles ; but does not life reconcile, thinkest thou? He who has lived long, and has not become lenient towards others, does not deserve leniency himself. And who can say, that he does not stand in need of leniency ? Thou hast done what thou couldst, thou hast striven as long as thou wert able. . . . What more can be demanded? Our roads have lain apart . . . ." " Thou art an entirely different man from me, brother," interposed Rudin, with a sigh. " Our roads have lain apart," pursued Lezh- nyoff : — " perliaps, that is precisely the reason wliy, tliaiiks to my position, to my cold blood, and to other fortunate circumstances, nothing lias prevented my becoming a stay-at-home, and remaining a si)ectator, with arms folded; but thou hast been forced to go forth into the field, with sleeves stripped up, to toil and work. Our roads have lain apart . . . but observe, how near we 223 J J i RUDIN are to each other. For we talk ahiiost an iden- tical language, we understand each other at half a hint; we grew up on the same sentiments. Not many of us are left now, hrother ; for thou and I are the last of the JNIohicansI We might get an- gry, even quarrel, in the olden years, when we had a great deal of life ahead of us; but now, when the tln'ong is thinning around us, when the new generations are swee^^ing past us, to goals which are not our goals, we must cling fast to each other. Let us clink glasses, brother, and let us sing, as of old: ' Gaudeamus igitur!'" The friends touched glasses, and sang in deeply moved, real Russian voices out of tune, the ancient student song. ^ " So, now thou art going to thy village," began LezhnyofF again. " I do not think thou wilt re- main there long, and I cannot imagine how, where and when thou wilt wind up. . . But re- member this : whatever may happen to thee, thou hast always a place, there is always a nest, where thou mayest take refuge. That is my house .... dost thou hear me, old fellow? Thought also has its invalid soldiers: they must have an asylum." Riidin rose. " I thank thee, brother," he went on. " I thank thee ! I will not forget this of thee. Only, I am not worthy of an asylum. I have ruined my Qwn__ life, and I have not served thought as I should have done." " ^ 224 RUDIN " Hush! " continued Lezhnyoff. " Every one . remains what nature made him, and nothing more can be demanded of him ! Thou hast called thy- self the AVandering Jew. . . . And how dost thou know, perhaps thou also must wander eter- nally thus, perhaps thou wilt, thereb}^ fulfil a higher destination, of which thou thyself knowest nothing: not for nothing has the wisdom of the people declared, that we all go as God / wills." " Art thou going? " went on Lezhnyoff, per- ceiving that Rudin was picking up his cap. " Wilt thou not spend the night here? " " I am going! farewell. Thanks. . . But I shall end badly." " God only knows about that. . . Thou art de- termined to go? " " Yes. Good-bye. Bear me no ill-will." " Well, and do thou bear me no ill-will . . . and do not forget what I have told thee. Good- bye " The friends embraced. Budin swiftly left the room. I^ezhnyofF paced up and down the room for a long time, halted in front of the window, re- flected, muttered, in an undertone: "Poor fel- low! " and seating himself at the table, began to write a letter to his wife. Outside, the wind rose, and howled with an ominous roar, beating heavily and spitefully 225 RUniN against the rattling window-panes. The long, autumnal night closed in. It is well with him, who, on such nights is sitting under the shelter of a house, who has a warm nook. . . And may the Lord help all shelterless wanderers! At the sultry noonday of July 26, 1848, in Paris, when the insurrection of the " national working- men " had been almost suppressed, in one of the narrow alleys of the Faubourg Saint Antoine a battalion of the line captured a barricade. It had already been shattered by several cannon- shots; those of its defenders who remained alive, had abandoned it, and were thinking only of their safety, when, all of a sudden, on its very crest, upon the crushed body of an overturned omnibus, there appeared a tall man in an old coat, girt about with a red scarf, and with a straw hat on his grey, dishevelled locks. In one hand he grasped a red flag, in the other, a curved, dull sword, and shouted something in a strained, shrill voice, as he scrambled upwards and waved the flag and the sword. A sharpshooter of Vincennes took aim at him, — and fired. . . . The tall man dropped the flag, and fell face downward, like a sack, exactly as though he were bowing down to some one's feet. . . . The bullet had passed straight through his heart. " Tiens! " said one of the fleeing insurgents to another: " On vient de tuer le Polonais." 226 " B'lgrcl " replied the latter, and both flung themselves into the cellar of a house, aJl of whose shutters were closed, and its walls streaked with t|n,e traces of bullets and cannon-balls. That " Polonais " was — Dmitry Rudin. END '121 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES (1870) A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES SIX of US were assembled one winter evening at the house of an old comrade of university days. A discussion arose about Shakespeare, about his types, about the profundity and fidelity with which they have been delineated from the very inmost recesses of human " nature." We particularly admired their vivid truth, their everyday character; each of us enumerated the Hamlets, the Othellos, the Falstaifs, even the Richard the Thirds and the Macbeths — (these last, it is true, only as possibilities) — with whom he had happened to come in contact. " And I, gentlemen," — exclaimed our host, a man already elderly, — " have known a King Lear! " " What do you mean? " " Precisely that. If you like, I will tell you the story." " Pray do." And our friend immediately began his nar- rative. 231 ]My entire childhood, and my early youth, up to the age of twenty, he began, — I spent in the country, on the estate of my mother, a wealthy landowner of the * * * Government. Perhaps the most clear-cut impression of that already distant epoch, which remains in my memory, is the figure of our nearest neighbour, a certain Martyn Pe- trovitch KharlofF. And it would be difficult indeed to erase that impression: I have never, in all the course of my life since then, encountered anything like KharlofF. Picture to yourselves a man of gigantic stature! On his huge trunk sat a monstrous head, somewhat awry, and with- out the slightest trace of a neck: above it rose a regular hay-cock of tangled, yellowish grey hair, starting almost from his bristling eyebrows. On the broad expanse of his bluish, as it were flayed face jutted forth a robust, wen-like nose, dimin- utive blue eyes glared arrogantly, and a mouth gaped, equally tiny, but crooked and cracked, of the same colour as the rest of the face. The voice emitted from this mouth, although hoarse, was extremely powerful and sibilant Its sound reminded the hearer of the clatter of iron 232 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES bars which are being transported in a cart along a bad pavement — and Kharloflf talked as though he were shouting at some one on the other side of a broad chasm, in a high wind. It was difficult to say precisely what Kharloff 's face expressed, so vast was it. . . . It could not be taken in with a single glance! But it was not disagreeable — a certain majesty was even discernible in it, only it was prodigious and remarkable. And what hands he had — regular pillows! what fingers, what feet! I remember, that I could not gaze without alarm at ^Nlartyn Petrovitch's back, two arshins ^ in length, at his shoulders, which re- sembled millstones; but his ears, in particular amazed me ! regular kalatches " they were, with all the folds and turns: his cheeks fairly thrust them up on both sides. ]\Iartyn Petrovitch wore — both winter and summer — a coat, tightly fitted to his figure, of green cloth, girt with a narrow Tcherkessian belt of leather, and oiled boots; I never saw a neckerchief on him, and what was there for him to tie a neckerchief about? He ])reathed slowlv and heavilv, like an ox, but he walked noiselessly. One miglit have supposed that, when he happened to find liimself in a room, he lived in constant terror of smashing and over- turning everytliing, and therefore moved from place to place cautiously, chiefly sideways, as * An arslifn is twcnty-ei^fht inches. —Tkansi.ator. 2 A favourite hot whcaten roll of pccuhar siiapc. — Thanslatoh. 233 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES though by stealth. He was possessed of genu- inely hereulean strength, and in conse(juence en- joyed great respect in the neighbourhood: our people, down to the present day, worship epic lieroes. Legends were even invented about him : it was narrated, that he had once encountered a bear in the woods, and almost vanquished him; that having caught a strange peasant among his beehives, he flung him, together with his cart and horse, over the wattled fence, and other things of the same sort. KharlofF himself never bragged of his strength. " If I have a blessed right hand," — he was accustomed to say, — " it is because such is the will of God!" — He was proud: only, he was not proud of his strength, but of his station, of his good birth, of his brains. " Our family is Vshedish " (he always pro- nounced Swedish in that manner), "descended from the Vshede Kharlus," he asserted: — " dur- ing the reign of Prince Ivan Vasilievitch the Blind — (just think of that!) he came to Russia; and that Vshede Kharlus did not want to be a Finnish Count — but he wanted to be a Russian noble, and he inscribed himself in the Golden Book.^ So that 's where we Kharloffs come from! .... And, for the same reason, all we Kharloffs are born with fair hair, with light eyes, and with clear skins! because we are snow-men! " "But, Martyn Petrovitch,"— I tried to re- * The official genealogy. — Tuanslatoh. 234 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES tort, — " Ivan Vasilievitch the Blind never existed at all, but there was an Ivan Vasilievitch the Terrible. The Blind was the appellation of a certain Prince Vasily Vasilievitch." ^ "Go on with thine idle chatter! "—KharlofF I answered me calmly: — " if I say it, it was so! " Once upon a time, my mother took it into her head to praise Kharloff , to his face, for his really remarkable disinterestedness. " Ekli, Natalva Xikolaevna! " — he said, almost angrily, — " a pretty thing you have found to praise me for! We gentle born cannot be other- wise: let no low-born rapscallion, bee-keeper, or dependent dare to tliink ill of us ! I am KharlofF, yonder is the place whence I derive my de- scent " (here he pointed with his finger to some place very high above him — to the ceil- ing), — "and the idea that there should not be lionour in me! Why, how is that possible? " On another occasion a dignitary who was the guest of my mother, took it into his head to make fun of ]Martyn Petrovitch. The latter again be- gan to talk a])out the Vshede Kharlus wlio had come to Russia "In the days of Tzar Pea?"" — interrupted the dignitary. " Xo, not in the days of Tzar Pea, — biit in ' laterally: The Dark, 14-25-1462. He was the first Grand Prince crowned at Moscow. —Thavsi.atoh. 2 Kf)iiival«'nt to "Kin); David," or any other absurdly remote an- cestor. — 1 H A N SI, ATOK. 235 A KING LEAK OF THE STEPPES the clays of Grand Prince Ivan Vasilievitch the Bh'nd.'' " Why, I had supposed," — went on the digni- tary, — " that your race was much more ancient, and went back even to antechhivian times, when there were mastodons and megalotheriums " These learned terms were totally unknown to INIartyn Petrovitch; but he understood that the dignitary was ridiculing him. " Perhaps it does," — he burst out, — " our race is really very ancient: at the time when my an- cestor arrived in jNIoscow, they say that a fool, the equal of your Excellency, dwelt there, and only one such fool is born in a thousand years." The dignitary flew into a rage, but Kharloff threw back his head, thrust out his chin, snorted, and took himself off. Two days later, he made his appearance again. ]My mother began to reprove him. " Read him the lesson, madam," — inter- rupted Kharloff: — "don't dash forward head- long, inquire, first of all, with whom you are deal- ing. He 's very young still, he needs teaching." The dignitary was nearly of the same age as Kharloff; but that giant had acquired the habit of looking upon everybody as a stripling. He had the greatest confidence in himself, and feared absolutely no one. " Can they do anything to me? Where in the world is there such another man " — he was wont to ask, and suddenly he would burst into a curt, but deafening laugh. 236 II ]My mother was very fastidious about her ac- quaintances, but she received Kharloff with par- ticular cordiahty, and overlooked many things in him: five and twentv vears before, he had saved her life, by holding her carriage on the brink of a deep abyss, into which the horses had already fallen. The traces and breech-straps gave way, but even then INIartyn Petrovitch did not let go of the wheel which he had seized in his grasp — al- though the blood spurted from beneath his finger- nails. ]My mother even arranged his marriage: she gave him to wife an orphan girl of seventeen, who had been reared in her house: he was over forty at the time. Martyn Petrovitch's wife was weak in health, — it was said that he had carried her into his house on his palms, — and she did not long survive the wedding; but she bore him two daughters. Even after her death, my mother continued to show her good-will to Martyn Petro- vitch: she got the eldest daughter into one of the Government }x)arding-schools, then she found her a husband — and already had her eye on another for the second dauglitcr. Kharloff was an excel- lent farmer, his little estate consisted of about 237 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES three hundred desyatinas,' and he had added to it s(Hne^vllat ; and as for the way in whieli his serfs obeyed liim, — it simply is useless to discuss it! Owing to his obesity, Kharloff hardly ever went on foot : he was too heavy. He rode about every- where in a low racing-drozhky, and drove the horse himself, a raw-boned mare thirty years old, with the scar of a wound on her shoulder: that wound she had received in the battle of Borodino, as the mount of the quartermaster in the Cheva- lier Guards regiment. This horse constantly limped, on all four feet simultaneously, it seemed : she could not go at a walk, but meandered along at a jog-trot, with a skip and a jump; she ate mugwort and wormwood from the grass strips between the cultivated fields, a thing w^hich I have never observed any other horse do. I remember that I always w^ondered how that half -alive horse could draw about such a frightful burden. I dare not repeat how many puds ^ our neighbour w^eighed. Behind jMartyn Petrovitch in the rac- ing-gig his swarthy little page, Maxim, took his place. Cuddling his whole body and face up against his master, and bracing his bare feet against the hind axle of the drozhky, he seemed a tiny leaf, or a worm, which was leaning against the gigantic carcass that towered up in front of him. This same page, once a week, shaved Mar- * A desyatina is 2.70 acres. —Tbanslatob. 2 A pud is 36 pounds. — Translatoe. 238 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES tyn Petrovitch. For the accomplishment of this operation, he stood on the table, so they said : some jesters asserted, that he was forced to run around his master's chin. KharlofF was not fond of stay- ing at home for long at a time, and, therefore, he was quite frequently to be seen driving about in his inevitable equipage,^ with the reins in one hand (the other, he deftly, with elbow crooked out, propped on his knee), with a tiny, old cap of military shape on the very apex of his head. He gazed alertly about him with his little, bear-like eves, shouted in stentorian tones at all the peasants, petty burghers, and merchants whom he met: he launched strong epitliets at the priests, whom he was very far from loving, and one day, as he came alongside me, (I had gone out for a stroll with my gun) , he began to halloo so vociferously at a hare which was lying by the roadside, that the moaning and din stuck in my ears until evening. ^ The racinjf-drozhky, used also for rough work in the country, con- sists of a board, with or without a cushion, attached without springs to four small wheels, all of the same size. The driver sits astride the board, with his feet braced against the shafts. —Translator. 239 Ill JNIy mother, as I have already said, was wont to give JMartyn Petrovitch a cordial welcome; she knew what profound respect he cherished for her. '•' She 's a gentlewoman! a lady! one of our own sort! " — was the way in which he was accus- tomed to refer to her. He called her his bene- factress, and she looked upon him as a devoted giant, who would not have hesitated to defend her single-handed against a whole horde of peas- ants: — and, although not even the possibility of such a clash was apprehended, still, according to my mother's views, in the absence of a husband (she had been early widowed), such a defender as JNIartyn Petrovitch was not to be despised. JMoreover, he was an upright man, he fawned on no one, he did not borrow money, he did not drink liquor — and neither was he stupid, al- though he had received no education whatever. My mother trusted JNIartyn Petrovitch. When she took it into her head to make her last will and testament, she summoned him as a witness, and he drove home for the express purpose of get- ting the circular, iron spectacles, without which he was unable to write; and with these spectacles 240 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES on his nose, he barelv contrived, in the course of a quarter of an hour, panting and puffing, to jot down his rank, name, patronymic, and surname, and, withal, he made his letters huge, square, with flourishes and tails; and having completed his la- bour, he announced that he was weary, and that writing was, for him, as hard work as catching fleas. Yes, my mother respected him .... but he was not allowed any further than the dining-room in oiir house. A very strong odour emanated from him: he reeked of the earth, of forest thickets, of marsh mire. " A regular forest-demon! " my old nurse averred. At dinner, a special table was placed in the corner for ]\Iartyn Petrovitch — and he was not offended at this — he knew that it was awkward for others to sit beside him — and more- over, he himself could eat in greater comfort ; and he ate as, I supjwse, no one has eaten since the days of Polyphemus. By way of precaution, a pot of buckwheat groats, containing about six pounds, was always provided for him at the very beginning of the dinner: " otherwise, thou wilt certainly eat me out of house and home!" — my mother used to say. " Exactly, madam, I shall eat you out of house and home! " ^lartyn Petro- vitch would answer, with a grin. My motlier loved to listen to his arguments on any point of domestic management ; but she could not endure his voice very long. " ^Vcll, good heavens!" — she would exclaim: 241 A KlXc; LKAK OF THE STEPPES — " you ou^lit U) get cured of that, I think! you lunc completely deafened nie. What a trumpet! " " Xatiilya Nikolaevna — Benefactress!" — Mar- tyn Petrovitch generally replied: — " I have no control over my throat. And what medicine could I take? — please to judge for yourself. I had better hold my peace for a bit." As a matter of fact, I don't suppose that any medicine could have penetrated JNIartyn Petro- vitch. He had never been ill. He could not narrate, and did not like to do so. " Asthma is caused b}' long speeches," he re- marked reprovingly. Only when he was got upon the subject of the war of 1812, (he had served in the militia, and had received a bronze medal, which he wore with the ribbon of the Order of St. Vladimir on festive occasions), when he was interrogated about the French, did he impart a few anecdotes, although he kept asserting, at the same time, that no genuine Frenchmen had come to Russia; but that, impelled by hunger, marauders had made an incursion, and that he had administerli- ter. Skipping lightly to the drozhky, he respect- fully supported his father-in-law hy the elbow, as he alighted — and even made a motion with one hand, as though he were about to grasp tlie gi- gantic foot, which the latter, bending his body forward, threw over the seat with a flourish; — then he aided me to alight from my horse. " Anna! " — shouted KharlofF: — " Natalya Nikoliievna's little son has been so good as to visit us ; we must entertain him. And where 's Evliimpiushka? " (The eldest daughter was named Anna — the yoimger, Evlampiya.) " She 's not at home; she has gone to the fields for corn-flowers," — replied Anna, making her appearance at a tiny w^indow by the door. " Are there any curds? " asked KharlofF. Yes. " And is there cream? " Ihere is. " Well, fetch them to the table, and, meanwhile, I '11 show him my study. — Please come this way — this way," lie added, turning to me, and beckon- ing me on with his forefinger. In his own house, he did not address me as " thou " ; the master of the house must be polite. He led me along a corridor. — " Here 's where I live," — he 250 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES said, stepping sideways across the threshold of a broad doorway, — " and here's my study. Please enter." This study proved to be a large room, unplas- tered and almost empty ; along the walls, on nails driven in at irregular intervals, hung two Kazak riding-whips, a rusty three-cornered hat, a single- barrelled gun, a sword, a strange sort of horse- collar with metal discs, and the picture repre- senting the candle attacked by the winds ; in one corner stood a wooden couch, covered with a mot- ley-hued rug. Hundreds of flies were buzzing thickly close to the ceiling ; but the room was cool ; only, it smelled particularly strong of the pecu- liar forest odour which accompanied JNIartyn Petrovitch everywhere. "Well, isn't my study nice?" — KharlofF asked me. 44 'XT ' " Very nice. " See, I have a horse-collar from Holland hanging up yonder," — went on KharlofF, again relapsing into "thou." — "A splendid collar! I bought it of a Jew. Just take a good look at it ! " " It 's a good collar." " The most practical sort! Just smell of it. . . . What dost thou think of that for leather? " — I smelled the collar; there was an odour of rancid oil, nothing more. " Come, sit down — yonder, on that little chair, be my guest," said KharlofF, and dropped down 251 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES liinisclf on tlie couch, and, as though he were dozing, closed his eyes, and even snored. I stared at liini in silence, and could not recover from my amazement: he was a mountain — and that's all there was to he said! Suddenly he started up. " Anna! " — he shouted, and therewith his huge paunch rose and fell, like a wave of the sea: — "what art thou ahout? Hurry up! Didst not thou hear me? " " Everything is ready, dear father; pray come," — resounded his daughter's voice. I inwardly marvelled at the celerity with which iNIartyn Petrovitch's orders had been ex- ecuted, and followed him to the dining-room, where, on the table, spread with a red table-cloth with white patterns, the luncheon stood ready: curds, cream, wheat bread, even powdered sugar with ginger. While I was vanquishing the curds, INIartyn Petrovitch, after affectionately growl- ing: — " Eat, my little friend, eat, my dear little dove, despise not our rustic viands," — seated him- self once more in the corner, and once more seemed to fall into a doze! In front of me, mo- tionless, with downcast eyes, stood Anna JVIar- tynovna, and through the window I could see her husband walking my cob up and down in the yard, wiping off the chain of the snaffle with his own hands. 252 VII ^Iy mother did not like Kharloff' s oldest daugh- ter; she called her a haughty chit. Anna ISIar- tynovna almost never came to call on us, and in my mother's presence she bore herself staidly and coldly, although she was indebted to her for having received her education in the boarding- school and got married, and on the wedding day had received from her a thousand rubles, and a yellow Turkish shawl, — somewhat worn, it is true. She was a woman of medium stature, thin, very vivacious and quick its her movements, with tliick, reddish-blonde hair, a handsome, dark-com- plexioned face, and narrow, pale-blue eyes; she had a thin, straight nose, her lips were thin also, and her chin was " spike-shaped." Any one, to look at her, would certainly have thought: " Well, you 're a clever — and an ill-tempered woman ! " And yet, there was something attractive about her; even the dark moles, scattered like grains of buckwlieat over her face, were becoming to her, and augmented the feeling which slie evoked. Thnisting her hands under her kerchief, she stealthily insi)ecte(l me from a])ove (I was sitting, she was stan(Hng) ; a mahcious smile liovered over 25^ A KING LEAR OF TIIK STEPPES her lips, and over her cheeks, uiuler the shadow of her lony: eyelashes. " Okh, thou spoiled little gentleman ! " that smile seemed to be saying. Every time she drew a breath, her nostrils dilated slightly — that, also, was rather strange ; but, nevertheless, it seemed to me, that if Anna JNIartynovna would only fall in love with me, or merely wish to kiss me with her thin, hard lips, — I would leap up to the ceiling with rapture. I knew that she was very stern and exacting, that the peasant matrons and maids feared her like fire, — but what of that! Anna INIartynovna mysteriously excited my imagina- tion. However, I was only fifteen years old at that time, — and at that age! Again INIartyn Petrovitch started up. — "Anna!" — he shouted: — "thou hadst better jingle the piano Young gentlemen like that." I glanced round: a pitiful similitude of a piano stood in the room. " Very well, father," — replied Anna Mar- tynovna. — " Only, what shall I play to him? It will not interest him." " Then why wert thou taught in the j^msion? "^ ' " I Ve forgotten it all completely .... and the strings are broken." Anna ^lartynovna's little voice was very pleas- ant, resonant and plaintive, as it were . . . . . such a voice as birds of prey have. 254 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Well," — said Martyn Petrovitch, and be- came thoughtful. — " Well," — he began again, — *' would n't you like to inspect the threshing-floor, to satisfy your interest? Volodka will show you the way. — Hey, Volodka!" — he shouted to his son-in-law, who was still walking my horse up and down the yard,—" here, escort this gentleman to the threshing-floor, . . . and, in general, .... show him my farm. But I must have a nap! Ta-ta ! Good luck to vou ! " He left the room, and I followed him. Anna ]Martvnovna immediately began to clear the table, briskly and with a vexed sort of manner. On the threshold, I turned and bowed to her: but she appeared not to notice my salute, only she smiled again, and more maliciously than before. I took my horse from Kharl6ff"s son-in-law, and led it by the bridle. He and I went to the threshing-floor, — but as we found nothing par- ticularly curious about it, and as he could not pre- suppose any special love for farming in me, a young lad, we returned through the garden to the highway. 2bf> VIII I WAS well acquainted with Kharloff's son-in- law: his name was Sletkin, Vladimir Vasilievitch ; he was an orphan, the son of a petty official, my mother's attorney, and she had reared him. At first he had been placed in the county school, then he had entered the " office of patrimonial estates," then he had been inscribed in the service, in the department of government warehouses, and, finally, he had been married to the daughter of JNIartvn Petrovitch. ]\Iv mother called him the little Jew, and, as a matter of fact, with his crisp curls, his black, eternally moist eyes, like stewed prunes, his hawk-like nose and wide, red mouth, he did recall the Hebrew type ; only, his skin was white, and, altogether, he was a very good-look- ing fellow. He was of an obliging disposition, if only his own personal profit were not concerned. If that were the case, he immediately became frantic with greed, he even went as far as tears: he was ready to beg all day long for the sake of a rag, to recall a promise once given a hundred times, waxing indignant and shrieking shrilly if it were not immediately fulfilled. He loved to lounge across the fields with his gun ; and when he 250 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES succeeded in bagging a hare or a duck, he put his booty into his hunting-pouch with a pecuhar feel- ing, saying the while: "Well, now frolic away, thou shalt not escape ! Xow thou shalt serve me! " \ " That 's a nice little nag of yours," — he said, in his lisping voice, as he helped me to get into the saddle: — "I wish I had just such a horse! But where am I to get it! 1 have no such luck. You might ask your mamma .... remind her " " But has she made you a promise? " " If she only had! Xo; but I thought, that in her benignity " " You had better apply to jNIartyn Petrovitch." "To ^Nlartyn Petrovitch!" repeated Sletkin, in a slow drawl. " In his eves, I am of about as much consequence as that insignificant page Maxim. He keeps us under his thumb, and we never have even a peep at a reward from him for all our labours." "Reallv?" "Yes, God is mv witness. When he says: 'My word is sacred!' — well, it's just like cut- ting you off with an axe. You may implore and implore, — it has no result. And there is Anna ^Slartynovna, my wife, slie has no such advantage in his eves as Evhimpiya ]\Iartvnovna. " Akh, good heavens!" he suddenly inter- rupted himself, and wrung liis liands in despair. *' Look: what is that? Some scoundrel has cut a 257 A KIXC T.EAK OF THE STEPPES whole hali'-ciolith ' of oats — of our oats. What do you think of that? A pretty world this I Thieves! thieves! You see, people actually speak the truth when they say, there 's no trusting Es'kovo, Bes'kovo, Erino, Byelino! " (These were the names of the four neighhouring vil- lages. ) " Akh, akh ! Just think of it ! Here 's a loss of a ruble and a lialf — or, perhaps, even of two rubles! " Something akin to sobs was audible in Sletkin's voice. I touched my horse's side, and rode away from him. Sletkin's exclamations had not yet ceased to reacli my ear when, suddenly, at a turn in the road, I came upon that same second daughter of Kharloff, Evlampiya, who, according to Anna INIartynovna's statement, had gone to the fields for corn-flowers. A thick wreath of those flowers encircled her head. We exchanged a silent greet- ing. Evlampiya, also, was very pretty, quite as good-looking as her sister, but in another style. She was tall and stout; everything about her was large : her head, and her feet, and her hands, and her snow-white teeth, and especially her eyes, which were prominent, languishing, dark- blue, like glass beads; everything about her was monumental, even (not for nothing was she the daughter of Martyn Petrovitch), but handsome Evidently, she did not know what to do with her 1 An "eighth" Is equal to 11.55 pecks. — Tea nslatoh. 258 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES thick, flaxen hair, and had wound it thrice round her head. Her mouth was charming, fresh as a rose, of a deep-crimson colour, and when she spoke, the centre of her upper hp was lifted in a verj^ pretty way. But in the gaze of her huge eyes there was something wild and almost harsh. " A free lance, Kazak blood," — that was the way INIartyn Petrovitch expressed himself about her. I was afraid of her. . . . That imposing beauty reminded me of her father. I rode on a little further, and heard her begin to sing, in an even, powerful, rather sharp, regu- lar peasant voice: then she suddenly ceased. I glanced round, and from the summit of the hill I descried her, standing by the side of Khar- lofF's son-in-law, in front of the eighth of rye wliich had been reaped. Tlie man was flourishing his hands and pointing, but she did not move. The sun illumined her tall figure, and the wreath of corn-flowers on her head gleamed blue. 259 IX I THINK I have already told you, gentle'.nen, that my mother had provided a husband for this sec- ond daughter of KharlofF also. He was one of the poorest of our neighbours, a retired army ISIajor, Gavrilo Feduliteh Zhitkoff, a man no longer young, and, as he himself expressed it, not devoid of licentiousness, and, as though it were a recommendation: "beaten and broken." He barely knew how to read and write, was stupid, but cherished a secret hope of obtaining the posi- tion of manager to my mother, for he felt himself to be possessed of " executive " ability. " As for the rest, sir, knocking out the peasants' teeth — I understand that to perfection," — he was wont to say, almost gnashing his own teeth: — " because I got used to it," — he explained, — " in my former vocation, you know." Had ZhitkofF been less stupid, he would have understood, that the post of manager to my mother was precisely the one which he had no chance whatever of obtaining, since to that end it would be necessary to super- sede our actual manager, a certain Kvitzmsky, a Pole of strong and active character, in whom my mother had entire confidence. ZhitkofF had a 200 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES long, horse face, all overgrown with dusty-blond hair — even his cheeks up to his eyes were covered ; even in the most severe cold weather, it was be- dewed with copious perspiration, like dewdrops. At the sight of my mother, he immediately drew himself up in military stjde, his head began to tremble with zeal, his huge hands lightly tapped his hips, and his whole figure seemed to be crying aloud: " Command me! .... and I will fly headlong! " ]My mother was under no illusions as to his cajiacity, which, nevertheless, did not pre- vent her making eff'orts to marry him to Ev- lampiya. " Only, wilt thou be able to get along with her. my father? " she asked him one day. Zhitkoff indulged in a self-satisfied smile. " Goodness me, Xatalva Xikolaevna! I have kept a whole company in order, they toed the mark, and what 's this, ma'am? An insignificant affair, I spit upon it." " A company of soldiers is one thing, my good man, and a well-born young girl, a wife, is quite another," remarked my mother, with displeasure. " Good heavens, ma'am! Natalya Niko- laevna!" cried Zhitkoff again. "I can under- stand all tliat very well. In short: a young lady is a tender creature! " " Well! " — my mother decided at last, — " Ev- liimpiya will not let herself be affronted." 2G1 X One day — this took place in the month of June, and evening was drawing on — a footman an- nounced the arrival of ^lartyn Petrovitch. ^ly mother was astonished: We had not seen him for more than a week, but he had never called on us so late. " Something has happened! " she exclaimed in an undertone. Martyn Petrovitch's face, when he presented himself in the room, and immedi- ately dropped into a chair beside the door, wore such an unusual expression, it was so pensive and even pale, that my mother involuntarily repeated her exclamation aloud. Martyn Petrovitch fixed his little eyes upon her, remained silent, sighed heavily, again relapsed into silence, and an- nounced, at last, that he had come about a matter of business . . . which . . . was of a nature, that in consequence Having muttered these incoherent words, he suddenly rose and left the room. My mother rang the bell, ordered the lackey who entered to bring ^Martyn Petrovitch back immediately, but the latter had already succeeded in mounting his drozhky and driving off. On the following morning, my mother, who 262 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES had been equally amazed and alarmed by Martyn Petrovitch's strange behaviour, and the expres- sion of his face, was on the point of sending a messenger for him, when he himself again ap- peared before her. This time, he seemed to be more composed. " Tell me, batiushka,^ tell me," — exclaimed my mother, as soon as she caught sight of him, — " what has happened to you? I really thought yesterday : ' O Lord ! ' I thought, — ' has n't our old neighbour gone out of his mind? ' " " I have not gone crazy, madam," rej^lied ]Mar- tyn Petrovitch: — " I 'm not that sort of a man. But I must take counsel with you." "What about?" " Only, I 'm in doubt, whether the same will be agreeable to j^ou " " Speak, speak, father, and as simply as possi- ble. Don't agitate me! why this the same? Speak simply. Have you got another fit of melan- choly? " KharlofF contracted his brows. " Xo, not of melancholy — I have that at the time of the new moon; but permit me to ask you, madam, what you think about death? " My mother was alarmed. " About what? " " About death. Can death spare any one whomsoever in this world?" ^ The penuine Russian form of address, literally, "dear little fatluT. "—!":! A Nsi.ATou. 2^)3 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Wluit other (lueer thing is tliis, that thou hast taken into thy head, my father;' Tliou, for in- stance, although thou wert horn a giant — there will he an end to thee also." "There will! okh, there will!" chimed in Khavloff, and cast down his eyes. " There has hai)pened to me a vision in my sleep " V ^ said slowly, at last. . . " What art thou saying? " — my mother inter- rupted him. " A vision in my sleep," he repeated. " I 'm a seer of visions, you know." "Thou?" "Yes. I! But didn't you know that?"— KharloiF heaved a sigh. " Well, then .... I lay down a bit, madam, more than a week ago, just before the beginning of the Peter fast! * I lay dow^n after dinner, to rest a bit, — well, — and I fell asleep ! and I saw something, as- though it were a black colt, come running into the room, and up to me. And that colt began to prance about, and show its teeth. The colt was as black as a beetle." Kharloff ceased speaking. " Well? " — said my mother. " And that same colt suddenly w^heels round, kicks me on the left elbow, right on the very ' The fast which precedes the day of St. Peter and St. Paul, June 29 (N. S. July 13): it varies in length, according to the date of Easter, —Tk A xsi.ATOR. 264 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES crazy -bone! .... I awoke! and lo and behold, that arm would n't work, neither would the left leg. Well, thinks I, 't is paralysis ; but I kneaded it well, and it got into action again: only, the creeps kept coursing through my limbs for a long time, and are still doing so. Whenever I open my palm, they just begin to run.up and down." " Why, ]\Iartyn Petrovitch, thou must have been lying on thine arm, I 'm sure." " Xo, madam, please not to say that! 'T is a forewarning to me of my death, that is to say." "Well, there he goes again!" — began my mother. " 'T is a forewarning! As much as to say: * Prepare thyself, man ! ' And therefore, madam, this is what I have to announce to you, without the slightest delay. Xot wishing," — said Kharloff, with a sudden shout, — " that that same death, should catch me, the servant of God, unawares, this is what I have decided upon in my own mind: that I must divide up my property now, during my lifetime, between my two daughters, Anna and Evlampiya, as the Lord God shall put in my soul to do." Martyn Petrovitch paused, groaned, and added: — " Without the least delay." " Well, wliat tlien? Tliat is a good act," — re- marked my mother: — " only, I think that thou art making liaste witliout a cause." " And, as I desire, in this matter," — went on 2().> A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES Kliarloff, elevating his voice to a still louder pitch, — " to observe the proper order and legality, 1 most respectfully rc(iuest your young son, Dmitry Semyonovitch, and impose it upon my relative Bytchkoff as a direct duty — to be present at the consummation of the formal deed, and in- duction into possession of my two daughters,. Anna, married, and Evlampiya, spinster; which is to be put in effect the day after to-morrow, at twelve o'clock, noon, at my own estate of Es'kovo, also known as Koziulkino, assisted by the con- stituted authorities and officials, who have already been invited." 3Iartyn Petrovitch barely managed to finish this si^eech, which he had, obviously, committed to memory, and which was broken by numerous gasps. ... It seemed as though there were a lack of air in his chest : his face, which had grown pallid, crimsoned once more, and he wiped the perspiration from it several times. " And hast thou had the deed of partition drawn up already? " asked my mother. " When didst thou find the time for that? " " I did okh! Without a bite or a sup " " Didst thou write it thyself? " " Volodka .... okh! helped me." " And hast thou presented thy petition? " " Yes, and the court has confirmed it, and the district judge has received his instructions, and 26G A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES a special commission of the county court .... okli! . . . has been designated to be present." ]My mother laughed. " I perceive, ^Nlartyn Petrovitch, that thou hast already taken all the proper measures, — and how promptly! That means, that thou hast not spared money? " " No, I have not, madam." " Indeed thou hast not ! But thou sayest that thou desirest to take counsel with me. Very well, ]Mitenka may go, and I will let Souvenir go with him, and I will tell Kvitzinsky. . . But hast thou not invited Gavrilo Fedulitch? " . ^ " Gavrilo Fedulitch .... :Mr. ZliitkofF . . . . has also been .... notified .... by me. In liis quality of betrothed it is proper that he should be." It was evident that ]Martyn Petrovitch had ex- hausted his entire store of eloquence. JNIoreover, it had always seemed to me, that, somehow or other, he was not quite well-disposed toward the bridegroom ^^•hom my mother had picked out; perhaps he had expected a more advantageous match for his Evlampiya. He rose from his chair, and made a bow and a scrape. — "Thanks for your consent!" " Where art thou going? " — asked my motlier. " Sit down; I will order refreshments to be serv^ed." " ]Mucli obhged," replied Kharloff . " But I cannot Okh! I must go home." 267 A KINC; LEAR OF THE STEPPES He retreated, and was on the point of sliding sideways tlirougli the door, according to his wont. . . " Stop, stop," — went on my mother, — " is it possible that thou art surrendering thy whole j)r()perty, without reserve, to thy daughters?" " Of course, without reserve." " Well, and thou thyself .... where wilt thou live? " KharlofF even flourished his hands at this. "What do you mean by asking where? In my own house, as I have lived hitherto .... so I shall henceforth. What change can there be? " " And hast thou so much confidence in thy daughters and in thy son-in-law? " "Is it about Volodka that you are pleased to speak? About that rag? Why, I can shove him about anywhere, hither and yon. . . What power has he? And they, my daughters, that is to say, will furnish me with food, drink, shoes and clothing until I die Good gracious ! that 's their first obligation! But I shall not long offend their eyes. Death is not far off, behind the moun- tains — but close, behind my shoulders." " Death is in the power of the Lord God," — re- marked my mother, — " but that is their duty, it is true. Only, thou must pardon me, Martyn Pe- trovitch; thy eldest daughter, Anna, is well known to be a haughty chit, — well, — and thy sec- ond has the look of a wolf " 268 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Xatalya Xikolaevna!" — broke in Kharloff, " what are you saying? — that they .... ]My daughters .... That I . . . . Ai'e they going to renounce obedience? ^A^'hv, thev never would dream of such a thing! .... Offer resistance? To whom? To their parent? — Dare they? And would it take long to curse them? They have passed their life in trembling, and in submis- sion, — and all of a sudden! O Lord!" Kharloff cleared his throat: he had grown hoarse. " Well, very good, very good," — my mother hastened to soothe him: — " Only, I do not under- stand, nevertheless, why thou hast taken it into thy head to share the property between them now. In any case, it would have come to them after thy death. I suppose thy fit of melancholy is the cause of all this." "Eh, matushka,"^ returned Kharloff, not with- out irritation, — " you 're just wound up to say melancholy ! Possibly, a higher power is acting in this matter, but vou call it melancholy! And so, madam, I liave taken it into my head, that I want to settle this personally, while I am in the land of the living, — who is to possess what, — and let the one whom I sliall reward with anything hold possession of the same, and feel gratitude, and fulfil it, and regard that which her father and ^ Literally, "dear little mother:" the f?enuine Russian address for women of all ranks. — Tkansi-atou. 209 A KING LExVR OF THE STEPPES benefactor lias imposed upon her as a great nierev " » Again Kharloff's voice broke. " Come, enongh, my father, enough of that," — my mother interrupted him; "or the black colt will straightway make his appearance." " Okh, Natiilya Nikolaevna, don't talk to me about him:" — groaned KharlofF. "It was my death that came for me. I beg your forgiveness. And I shall have the honour to expect you, my little gentleman, the day after to-morrow! " ]Martyn PetnSvitch left the room; my mother looked after him, and shook her head signifi- cantly. " No good will come of this," — she whis- pered;— "no good will come of it. Plast thou noticed," she said, turning to me: — "while he talked, he kept screwing up his eyes, as though to avoid the sun ; thou must know that is a bad sign. When such a man feels heavy at heart, a calamity is threatening him. (tO the day after to-morrow with Vikenty Osipoviteh and Souvenir." 270 XI Ox the appointed day, our big, four-seated, family carriage, drawn by six dark bay horses, with the chief " royal coachman," fat, grey- bearded Alexyeitch, on the box, rolled smoothly uj) to the porch of our house. The importance of the deed which KharlofF was about to under- take, the solemnity with which he had invited us, liad had their effect upon my mother. She her- self had given orders to have precisely this extra- ordinary equipage harnessed up, and had com- manded Souvenir and me to array ourselves in festive attire: evidently, she wished to show re- spect for her " protege." As for Kvitzinsky, — he always ^^'ent about in a dress-suit and a white neckcloth. Souvenir chattered like a magpie the Vv'holc way, giggled, discussed the question as to whether his dear brother would offer him any- thing, and then and there dubbed him an idol and a spectre. At last, Kvitzinsky, a morose, bilious man, could endure it no longer. " What pos- sesses you," — he said, with his clear-cut, Polish accent, — " to jabber such nonsense constantly? And is n't it possible to sit still, without any of that balderdash, — ' which is of no use to any- 271 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES IkkIv ' ? (his favourite expression). " Well, im- inc jutly," — muttered Souvenir, with displeasure, and riveted his squint-eyes on the window. A (juarter of an hour had not elapsed, the smoothly- trotting horses had hardly begun to perspire under tlie slender straps of the new harness, when KharlofF's manor-house came in sight. Through the gates, which stood open, our carriage rolled up to the courtyard; the tiny jockey, whose legs hardly reached half-way down the horse's body, boimded for the last time in his soft saddle with a youthful yell, old Alexyeitch's elbows simulta- neously spread out and rose, a faint " tprrrrr " (whoa!) w^as audible, and we came to a halt. The dogs did not greet us with barks, the little brats of the house-serfs, in long shirts slightly open over their big bellies, had also disappeared somew^here. KharlofF's son-in-law was waiting for us on the threshold. I remember, that I was particularly struck with the small birch-trees which were stuck up on each side of the porch, as on Trinity day.' " The Solemnity of Solem- nities! "^ sang Souvenir through his nose, as he alighted first from the carriage. And, in fact, solemnity was discernible in everything. Khar- loff's son-in-law wore a plush neckcloth, with a ^ It is customary to decorate churches and houses with birch-trees on that Sunday, which corresponds, in a way, to Whit-Sunday: the following day, "the Day of the S[)irit," being the actual Pentecost festival, though the celebration is on "Trinity day," — Translator. 2 A quotation from the Easter hymns. — Tuanslator. 272 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES satin bow, and a remarkably tight-fitting dress- suit ; and the hair of ^Nlaxim, who was popping up from behind his back, was drenched with home- made beer to such a degree, that it was even drip- ping with it. We entered the drawing-room, and beheld ]Martyn Petrovitch, towering up immova- bly, — precisely that, towering up, — in the middle of the room. I do not know what were the feel- ings of Souvenir and Kvitzinsky at the sight of his colossal figure, but I experienced something akin to reverence. jMartyn Petrovitch had garbed himself in a grey jacket, with a black standing collar, which must have been his militia uniform in the year '12; the bronze medal was visible on his breast, the sword hung by his side; he had laid his left hand on the hilt, his right hand rested on a table covered with red clotli. Two sheets of paj^er covered with writing lay on that same table. KharlofF did not move, did not even pant; and what dignity was expressed in his mien, what confidence in himself, in his unbounded and indubitable power! He barely greeted us with a nod, and saying hoarsely: " Pray be seated!" he pointed the index-finger of his left hand in the direction of a row of cliairs. Against the right wall of the drawing-room stood both of KharlofF's daugliters, in their Sunday attire: Anna in a changeable gown of green and lilac, with a girdle of yellow silk; Evlainpiya in a pink gown, with flame-coloured ribbons. Beside them 273 xV KING LExVR OF THE STEPPES stood Zhitkuir, in a now unilorni, with his custo- mary expression of stupid, greedy expectation in his eyes, and with an unusually large amount of perspiration on his hairy face. Against the left ^vall of the drawing-room sat the priest, in a threadbare snuff-coloured cassock — an old man, Avith stiff, dark-brown hair. This hair, his dull eyes, and his large, shrivelled hands, which seemed to be a burden to himself, and lay, like heaps, on his knees, and his oiled boots, which peeped forth from beneath his cassock, — all bore witness to his toilsome, cheerless life: his parish was very poor. By his side sat the chief of the rural police, a fat, pale, dirty little gentle- man, with plump, short hands and feet, black eyes, black, clipped moustache, and a constant, pitiful though cheery smile on his face: he had the reputation of being a great bribe-taker, and even tyrant, as the expression ran in those days: but not only the landed proprietors, but the peas- ants also had got used to him, and were fond of him. Pie was gazing about in a very free-and- easy and somewhat mocking manner: it was plain, that this whole " procedure " amused him. In reality, he was interested only in the impend- ing luncheon with vodka. On the other hand, the pettifogging lawyer who sat beside him, a gaunt man with a long face, and narrow side-whiskers running from his ear to his nose, as they were worn under Alexander I, took a soul-felt interest in 27i A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES Martyn Petrovitcli's arrangements, and never re- moved from him his large, serious eyes ; extremely strained attention and sympathy made him keep constantly moving and twisting his lips, but he did not open them. Souvenir took a seat by him, and entered into a whispered conversation with him, having preliminarily informed me, that he was the leading Freemason of the district. A .special commission of the county court consists, as every one knows, of the chief of rural police, a la"v\yer and the commissary of police; but either there was no commissary, or else he kept himself in the background to such a degree that I did not observe him; however, he w^ent in our district by the nickname of " the non-existent," just as there are some called " the non-rememberers." I sat down next to Souvenir, Kvitzinsky next to me. On the face of the practical Pole there was de- picted manifest vexation at the " useless to an}^- body " trip, at the vain loss of time " Just like a fine lady! the freaks of these Russian gen- try! " he seemed to be wliispering to himself .... " These Russians are altogether too much for me!" •275 XII When we were all seated, JNIartyn Petrovitch ele- vated his shoulders, grunted, looked at us one after the other with his little bear-like eyes, and, sighing- noisily, began thus: " Dear sirs! I have invited you hither for the following cause. I am getting old, dear sirs, in- firmities are beginning to overcome me. ... I have already had a forewarning, the hour of death, like a thief in the night, is approach- ing. ... Is n't that right, batiushka," ^ he said, addressing the priest. The jDriest was startled. " Yes, yes," he mum- bled, wagging his little chin. " And therefore," — f)^^'^^^^ Marty n Petro- vitch, suddenly raising his voice, — " not wishing that that same death should overtake me una- wares, I have settled in my own mind . . . ." Martyn Petrovitch repeated, word for word, the phrases which he had uttered at my mother's house, two days before. " In virtue of this my de- cision," he vociferated still more loudly, " this deed " (he smote the documents which were lying on the table) " has been drawn up by me, and ^ Batiushka, the general address to a man in any station of life, is specifically the title of the clergy.— Thanslatoh. 270 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES the powers that be have been invited hither. As to what my said will consists of, the points follow. I have finished my reign, let there be an end of me! ]Martyn Petrovitch placed his round iron spec- tacles on his nose, took from the table one of the sheets of writing, and began: " A deed of partition of the property of retired bavonet-vimker^ and hereditarv noble, ^lartyn Kharloff, drawn up by himself in full and sound mind, and according to his own good judgment, and wherein are accurately specified what usufructs are placed at the disposal of his two daughters, Anna and Evlampiya — make a reverence!" (they made a reverence) — "are placed at their disposal, and in what manner the house-serfs and the other property and the poul- try are to be divided between the said daughters. And thereto I set mv hand in confirmation! " " He wants to read that document of his " — whispered the chief of police, with his perpetual smile, to Kvitzinsky, — " because of the beauty of its style, but the legal document is drawn up in proper form, without all those flourislies." Souvenir began to giggle " In consonance with my will! " — put in Khar- loff; the chief of police's comment had not es- caped liis attention. 1 An ol(l-fasliioiic-(l rank in llii; artillery, between sergeant and lieulc-nant.— TuA.ssi.ATOH. A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES " It does agree in all points," — replied the lat- ter, hastily and eheerily; — "only, the form, you know, ^lartyn Petroviteh, cannot possibly be dispensed with. And superfluous details are eliminated. For the court cannot possibly enter into particulars as to piebald cows and Turkish drakes." " Come hither, thou! " — yelled KharlofF to his son-in-law, who had followed us into the room, and had stopped near the door, with an obse- quious air. He immediately ran to his father-in- law. "Here, take, read! It's difficult for me! Only, look out, don't gabble! Read so that all the gentlemen jjresent may penetrate the mean- ing." Sletkin took the sheet of paper with both hands, and began to read the deed of partition tremblingly, but intelligibly, with taste and feel- ing. Therein was defined, with the greatest ac- curacy, precisely w'hat was allotted to Anna, and what to Evlampiya, and in what manner they were to share. Kharloff , from time to time, broke in on the reading with the words: — " Hearest thou, Anna, that is for thee, for thy zeal! " — or: *' I present that to thee, Evlampiushka! " — and both sisters bowed, Anna with her whole body to the waist, Evlampiya with her head only. Kharloff surveyed them with sombre pomposity. " The manor-house " — the new wing, he assigned 278 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES to Evlampiya, " as being the j'-oungest daughter, according to custom from time immemorial"; the voice of the reader cracked and quivered as he articulated these words so unpleasant for him- self: but ZhitkofF licked his lips. Evlampiya cast a sidelong glance at him : had I been in ZhitkoiFs place, I should not have liked tliat glance. ]Martyn Petrovitch reserved to himself the right to live in the chambers at present occupied by him, and stipulated for himself, under the appel- lation of " privy purse," full support " with nat- ural provisions " and ten rubles in cash per month for shoes and clothing. Kharloff insisted on reading the concluding clause in the deed of par- tition himself. " And this my parental will," — it ran, — " my daughters are to hold sacred and inviolate, as though it were my last will and testament; for, after God, I am their father and their head, and am not bound to render account to any one, neither have I rendered it; and if they shall ful- fil my will, then shall my parental blessing be with them, but if they shall not fulfil mv will, which God forbid, then shall my parental and ir- revocable curse overtake them, now and unto ages of ages, amen!" 7\liarl(W elevated the sheet of paper liigh above his licad. Anna in- stantly dro])pcd briskly on licr knees,' and thiim])cd the floor with her brow; her lH]s])and followed her with a similar somersault. " Well, 271) A KIXC; l.ExUi OF THE STEPPES and what art thou about?" — Kharloff said to Evhimpiya. She flushed crimson all over, and also made a reverence to the earth : Zhitkoif bent liis whole body forward. "Sign!" — exclaimed Kharloff, pointing his fln'rinncd I'roni ear to ear. " They won't let him enter the house. ' You 're not wanted,' say they; ' turn your shafts the other way,' say they. I 've told you how it is: Sletkin manages them all." " But what does the bride say to that? " " Evlampiya JNIartynovna, you mean? Ekh, master, I 'd like to tell you but you 're young — that 's what it is. There have been such goings-on, that i .... i .... i! Eh! but I think Diiinka is making a point." In fact, my dog had halted, as though rooted to the spot, in front of a spreading oak bush in which terminated a narrow ravine that came out on the road. Prokofy and I ran to the dog; a woodcock rose from the bush. We both fired at it, and missed it ; the woodcock changed its place ; we followed it. The soup w^as already on the table when I got home. iNIy mother reprimanded me: " What 's this? " — she said with displeasure, — " thou hast made us wait dinner for thee on the very first day." I presented her with the wood- cock which I had shot; she did not even look at them. In addition to her. Souvenir, Kvitzinsky, and ZhitkofF were in the room. The retired INIajor had hidden himself in a corner, — precisely like a naughty sch(X)l-boy; the expression of his face revealed a mixture of perturbation and vexa- tion; his eyes were red One might even 300 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES have supposed that he had been weeping re- cently. ]Mv mother continued to be out of tern- per; it cost me no great effort to divine that my late arrival had nothing to do with the matter. During dinner, she spoke hardly at all; from time to time, the Major cast pitiful glances at her, but he ate heartily, nevertheless; Souvenir trembled; Kvitzinsky preserved his customary intrepidity of demeanour. " Vikenty Osipitch," said my mother, address- ing him; — "I request that to-morrow you will send the equipage for ]Martyn Petrovitch, as I Iiave learned that he has no longer one of his own; and give orders that he is to be told, that lie is to come without fail, that I wish to see him." Kvitzinsky wanted to make some reply, but re- frained. " And give Sletkin to understand," — went on mv mother, — " that I command him to come to me Do you hear? I com .... mand!" " There, that 's precisely .... what that scoundrel needs " began Zliitkoff in an undertone; but my mother cast such a scornful look at him, that he immediately turned away, and fell silent. "Do you hear? I command!" — repeated my mother. " I obc}', ma'am," — said Kvitzinsky, submis- sively, but with dignity. " ^lartvn Petrovitch won't come!" — whis- A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES ])cre(l Souvenir to me, as we left the dining-room together after dinner. " Just see, what he has become! It 's incredible ! — I think — that no mat- ter what is said to him, — he does n't understand a single thing. Yes! They 've squeezed the ad- der with pitchforks! " And Souvenir broke into his quavering laugh. i502 XVII Sou^'ENiR^s prediction proved correct. Martyn Petrovitch would not come to my mother. She was displeased at this, and sent him a note; he sent back to her a quarter of a sheet of paper, on which, in big letters, the following words were written: " Indeed, by heaven, I cannot. Shame would kill me. Let me perish. Thanks. Don't worry. KharlofF oSIartynko." Sletkin came, but not on the dav on which mv mother had " commanded " him to present himself, but a whole day later. My mother gave orders that he should be conducted to her boudoir God knows what their conversation was about, but it lasted a very short time only: not more than a quarter of an hour. Sletkin came out of my mo- tlier's room, all red in the face, and with such a viciously-evil and impudent expression of counte- nance, that on encountering liim in the drawing- nK)m, I was dumfounded, and Souvenir, who was ski])ping about there, did not finish the laugh which he had begun. My mother also emerged from her boudoir all red in the face, and an- nounced, in the hearing of all, that Mr. Sletkin, A KING LEAH OF THE STEPPES henceforth, would not be admitted to her house on any i)rctext wluitsoever; and that if INIartyn Petrovitch's dau«4hters should take it into their heads to present themselves — they were quite brazen-faced enough foi- that, — they, also, were to be sent about their business. At dinner, she suddenly exclaimed: — "What a wretched little Jew ! And it was I who dragged him out of the gutter by his ears, it was I who made somebody of him, he is indebted to me for everything, everything — and he dares to tell me, that I have no right to intermeddle with their affairs! — that iNIartyn Petrovitch is a fool — and it is impossible to indulge him in his caprices! Indulge! Did you ever hear the like? Akh, he 's an ungrateful young cub! A dirty little Jew!" — Major Zliit- kofF, who was also among the diners, imagined that now God himself had bidden him take ad- vantage of the opportunity, and put in his word . . . but my mother immediately snubbed him. " Well, and thou art a nice person, also, my father! " — said she. " Thou wert not able to get along with the girl, and yet thou art an officer! Thou hast commanded a company! I can im- agine how it obeyed thee! And thou hadst aspi- rations to become my agent! A pretty agent thou wouldst have made! " Kvitzinsky, who sat at the end of the table, smiled to himself, not without malevolent delight, while poor Zhitkoff merely wagged his mous- 304 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES tache, and elevated his eyebrows, and buried the whole of his hairy face in his napkin. After dinner, he went out on the porch to smoke his pipe, according to his habit, — and he seemed to me so pitiful and forlorn an object, that although I did not like him, I joined him. " How did it come about, Gavrilo Fediilitch," I began, without any circumlocution—" that your affair with Evlampiya iSIartynovna suffered shipwreck? I had supposed that you were mar- ried long ago." The retired ]Major cast a dejected glance at me. " The sly snake," — he began, with mournful care pronouncing every letter of every word, — " has poisoned me with her sting, and has turned all my liopes in life to dust! And I would like to tell you, Dmitry Semyonovitch, all her viper- ous deeds, but I 'm afraid of angering your mo- ther! " (" You 're still very young " — Prokofy's expression flashed through my mind.) " So be it. . . ."— ZliitkofF quacked. " Endure it ... . endure it ... . nothing else remains to be done! " (He smote himself on the chest with his clenched fist.) "Be patient, faithful old soldier, endure! I have served the Tzar with fidelity and tnith . . . uncomplain- ingly yes! I have not spared my sweat and blood, but now what have I come to! Hud this thing happened in the regiment — and had the 30.5 A KIXC; LKAK OF TllK STEPPES matter depended upon me," — he went on after a brief })aiise, j)ulling away convulsively at his clierry-wood tehihouk, — " I 'd liave given it to liini 1 'd liave had him Hogged with the flat of tlie sword, in three relays . . . that is, until he tumbled over " Zhitkoff took the })ipe from his mouth, and riveted his gaze on space, as though inwardly ad- miring the picture which he had conjured up. Souvenir ran up, and began to jeer at the INIajor. I stepped aside from them — and made up my mind that I would see Martyn Petrovitch, at M'hatever cost My childish curiosity was strongly piqued. 306 XVIII Ox the following day, I again set out with my gun and dog, but without Prokofy, for the Es'- kovo grove. The day turned out to be magnifi- cent. I think there are no such days anywiiere in September, except in Russia. Such silence reigned, tliat one could hear a rabbit leaping over the dry leaves a hundred paces off, and a broken twig first faintly catching on other twigs, and at last falling on the soft grass — falling for good and all: never to stir again all the while it is rotting. The air, neither warm nor cool, but only fragrant, rather acrid, just pinched the eyes and cheeks agreeably; slender as a thread of silk, with a white little ball in the centre, a long spider's- web floated along and cauglit on the barrel of my gun, stretcliing straight upward in the air — an infallible sign of warm weather. The sun shone, ])ut as mildly as though it were the moon. Wood- cock turned u]) (juite fretjuently; but I paid no particular attention to them: I knew that the grove extended almost to the very manor-house of Kharloff, to the very wattled fence of his garden — and wended my steps in that direction — al- though I could not imagine how I was going to 307 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES make my way into the house itself, and even felt douhtfiil as to whether 1 ought so much as to try to enter there, as my motlier was wroth with the new owners. Living human sounds surprised me in the far distance. 1 began to listen. . . . Some one was walking through the copse .... straight toward me. " But thou mightest have said so . o . ." — a feminine voice became audible. "Oh, you may talk!" interrupted another voice, — a man's. " Dost thou suppose everything can be done at once? " I knew the voices. Glimpses of a woman's sky-blue gown were visible through the thinning nut-bushes; alongside it, a dark kaftan showed itself. Another moment — and Sletkin and Ev- lampiya emerged into the glade five paces from me. They suddenly became confused. Evlampiya instantly retreated into the bushes. Sletkin re- flected — and advanced to meet me. On his face there was no longer visible even a trace of that servile submissiveness with which, four months previously, he had walked up and down the yard of the KharlofF house, polishing the chain of my horse's bridle; but neither could I read in it that impudent defiance, — the defiance wherew^ith that face had so astounded me on the preceding day, on the threshold of my mother's boudoir. As of 308 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES yore, it was white and comely, but appeared to be more solid and broader. " Well, have you shot many woodcock? " — ^lie asked me, raising his cap, smirking, and passing his hand over his black curls. " You are hunting in our gro\"e You are welcome! We do not hinder. . . On the contrary!" " I have killed nothing to-day," — said I, reply- ing to his first question: " and I shall leave your grove immediately." Sletkin hastily replaced his cap. " Good gra- cious! why? We are not driving you out — and we are even very glad. . . . Here 's Evlampiya Martynovna, who will say the same. Evlampiya ^Martynovna, please come hither! Where have you hidden yourself? " Evlampiya's head made its appearance from behind the bushes; but she did not come to us. She had become still handsomer of late — and seemed to have grown taller and stouter. " I must confess," — went on Sletkin, — " that it is even very agreeable for me to have ' met ' you. Although you are still young — yet you al- ready possess genuine good sense. Your mother ^vas pleased to be angry with me yesterday — she would n't listen to any reasons from me, but I say to you, as I would say it in the presence of (Un] : I am not in the sliglitest degree to blame. It is impossible to treat ^lartyn Pctrovitch other- wise: he has fallen into utter childisliness. It is A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES impossible for us to comply with all his caprices, — good gracious! And we show him all due re- spect! Ask Evliimpiya ]Mai*tynovna here if we don't!" Evliimpiya did not stir; her habitual scornful smile hovered over her lips — and her beautiful eyes had an unfriendly gaze. " But, Vladimir Vasilitch, why did you sell INIartyn Petrovitch's horse?" (That horse trou- bled me particularly by being in a peasant's pos- session.) " Why did we sell his horse? But, mercy on me, what was it good for? It merely devoured hay, without earning it. But with the peasant, it can still till the earth. But all ^lartyn Petrovitch has to do, if he takes it into his head to go anywhere, is to ask us. We don't refuse him an equipage. On days when no work is going on, with the greatest pleasure!" "Vladimir Vasilievitch ! "— said Evlampiya, in a low tone, as though calling him away, and still not (juitting her place. She was twisting several stalks of plantain in her fingers, and had cut off their heads by beating them against each other. " And here 's another thing, about the page Maximka,"— went on Sletkin :— " Martyn Pe- trovitch complains, and w^ants to know why we have taken him away from him and apprenticed him. But, please judge for yourself: what would 310 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES he have done with ^Slartyn Petrovitch? Spent his time in idleness ; that "s all. And serve prop- erly he cannot, because of his stupidity and his youth. But now we have apprenticed him to the saddler. He '11 come out a good workman — and will bring profit to himself, and will pay us quit-rent. And in our little household, that is an important point, sir ! In our little household, no- thing must be neglected! " " And this is the man whom IMartyn Petrovitch called a rag! " — I thought. " But who reads to Martyn Petrovitch now?" — I inquired. " But what is there to read? There was one book, — but, luckily, it has disappeared some- where or other. . . And what does he want of reading at his age! " " But who shaves him? " — I asked another ({uestion. Sletkin smiled approvingly, as though in re- sponse to an amusing jest. " Why, no one. At first, he used to singe it off with a candle, but now he lets it grow. And that 's fine ! " "Vladimir Vasilievitch ! " — repeated Evlam- piya, importunately. " Hey — Vladimir Vasi- lievitch! " Sletkin made a sign to her with his hand. " Martyn Petrovitch is shod, clothed, and fed, just as we are ourselves; what more does he want? Tie himself has declared, that he desires nothing more in the world, except to care for his soul. He 311 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES iiiight take into consideration tlie fact, that — any- way — everything is ours now, not his. He says, also, that we do not pay him his allowance; but we don't always have money ourselves; and what does he need it for, when he has everything pro- vided for him? But we treat him as a relative should be treated : I 'm speaking the truth to vou. The rooms, for instance, in which he re- sides, — how much we need them ! Without them, we simply have n't space enough to turn round in; but we don't mind — we endure it. We are even thinking of how we may afford him diver- sion. For instance, I bought him some fish-hooks as a present on St. Peter's day, sple-endid hooks, real English: expensive hooks! so that he might catch fish. There are carp in our pond. He might sit and fish ! If he were to sit there for an hour or two, there 'd be material for supper ready to hand. It 's a most dignified occupation for old men! " "Vladimir Vasilievitch ! " — said Evlampiya for the third time, in a decisive tone, and flung away the plantain-stalks which she had been twirhng in her fingers. "I'm going!" Her ej^es met mine. " I 'm going away, Vladimir Vasilievitch ! " she repeated, and disappeared be- hind the bushes. " I '11 be there directly, Evlampiya Marty- novna, I'll come directly!" — shouted Sletkin. " Martyn Petrovitch himself now approves of 312 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES us," — he continued, again addressing me. " At first, he really did take offence; and he even grumbled, until he came to understand, you know: he was, if you will please to remember, a hot-tempered, stubborn man — awfully so! Well, and now he has become perfectly quiet. Because, he has perceived that it is for his advantage. Your mamma — and oh, my God! how she did fall foul of me. . . . Of course, a lady prizes her power just as much as ]Martyn Petrovitch used to prize his; well now, come in and see for yourself — and seize the opportunity to say a word. I am very sensible of Xatalya Xiko- laevna's benefits; but we must live also, never- theless! " " But why was ZliitkofF dismissed? " — I asked. " Fedulitch, you mean? That big lubber? " Sletkin shrugged his shoulders. " Why, mercy on us, of what use could he be ? He had spent all his life as a soldier, and then took it into his head to busy himself with farming. ' I can administer chastisement to the peasants,' says he. ' Because I 'm accustomed to strike men in the face.' He can't do anything, sir. One must understand the proper way even to strike a man in the face. But Evlampiya Martynovna herself dismissed him. He 's a wholly unsuitable man. Our whole prop- erty would have vanislied with him around! " "A-oo!" — rang out Evlampiya's resonant voice. 313 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Iniincdlutcly'. iininediatcly! " — responded Slctkin. lie offered me his hand. 1 shook it, thougli nnwillinoly. " (n)O(l-bye, Dmitry Semyonitch,"^ — said Slet- kin, disphiying all his white teeth. " Shoot as many woodcock as you please; they are birds of passage, they belong to no one in particular; but if you should come upon a hare, — you will be so good as to spare it; that's our property. Yes, and one thing more! do you happen to have a female pup from your bitch? We should be very glad if you would give it to us! " " A-oo! " — rang out Evlampiya's voice again. "A-oo! a-oo!" — responded Sletkin, and rushed into the bushes. 314 XIX I REJViEMBER, that wlieii I was left alone, I was occupied with the thought: how came it, that KharlofF had not struck Sletkin in such a way " that only a wet blot would remain on the spot where he had been?" — and how came it, that Sletkin had not been afraid of such a fate? Evi- dently, Martyn Petrovitch really had become " quiet," I said to myself — and my desire to be- take myself to Es'kovo, and get at least a peep with one eye at that colossus, whom I could not possibly picture to myself as intimidated and sub- missive, grew stronger than ever. I had already reached the edge of the woods, when suddenly, from beneath my very feet, a large woodcock darted forth, with a vehement whirring of its wings, and flew headlong into the recesses of the grove. I took aim; my gun missed fire. I was very much vexed: the bird was a fine one, and I made up my mind to try and see whether I could not raise it again. I walked in the direction of its flight — and after proceeding for a couple of hundred paces, I espied on a small grass-plot, beneath a spreading birch-tree — not the wood- cock, — but that same Mr. Sletkin. lie was 315 A KIXC; LKAR Ol" THE STEPPES Ivino- (in his back, with both hands clasped under his head, — and was staring up at the sky with a contented smile, as he dangled iiis left leg, which was thrown over his right knee. He did not per- ceive my advance. Evlampiya was strolling about the glade, w^ith downcast eyes, a few paces i'rom him ; she seemed to be hunting for something in the grass — mushrooms, perhaps, — now and then bending down, stretching out her hand, — and was singing in a low voice. I came to an in- stantaneous standstill, and began to listen. At first, 1 could not understand what it w^as that she was singing, but afterward I distinctly recog- nised the following familiar lines of an ancient ballad : " Come thou, storm-cloud, come, Kill, kill batiushka-father-in-law. Strike thou, lightning, strike matushka-mothcr-in-law, But I myself will slay the youthful wife."^ Evlampiya sang louder and louder: she pro- longed the concluding words with particular force. Sletkin continued to lie on his back and laugh, and she seemed to be constantly circling round him. " What a girl thou art! " — he said at last. " And w^hat queer ideas thou dost get into thy head!" 1 Only the second and third lines rhyme in the original. — Tbanslatoh. 316 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES "What dost thou mean by that?" — asked Evlampiya. Sletkin raised his head a Httle. " What do I mean? What remarks are those that thou art making?" " Thou knowest well enough, Volodya, that one can't omit words from a song," replied Ev- lampiya, as she turned round, and caught sight of me. We both uttered an exclamation simulta- neously, and both fled in opposite directions. I hastily made my way out of the grove, and traversing a narrow glade, found myself in front of the KharlofF garden. 317 XX I HAD had no time to reflect on what I had seen, — neither was there any reason why I should do so. I remembered only the expression, " love- spell," which 1 had been recently made acquainted with, and whose significance had greatly amazed me. I walked along the wattled fence of the gar- den, and a few moments later, from behind the silver-poplars (they had not lost a single leaf, as yet, and spread luxuriantly), I saw Martyn Pe- trovitch's yard and house. The whole garden appeared to me to have been cleaned and spruced up: everywhere traces of constant and strict su- pervision were visible. Anna Martynovna made her appearance on the porch, and screwing up her pale-blue eyes, she gazed long in the direction of the grove. " Hast thou seen thy master? " — she asked of a peasant who was passing through the yard. " Vladimir Vasilitch? " — replied the man, plucking his cap from his head. " I think he went to the grove." " I know that he was in the grove. Has n't he returned? Hast not thou seen him? " " I have n't seen him . . . no." The peasant continued to stand capless in front of Anna IMartA'novna. 318 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Well, go along," — said she. " Or, no . . . stay . . . Where is ^Martyn Petrovitch? Dost thou know? " " Why, ]Martyn Petrovitch," — replied the peasant in a singsong tone, raising his right and his left hand alternately, as though pointing at something, — " is sitting yonder, by the pond, with a fishing-rod. He 's catching fish, I sup- pose. God knows!" "Good! . . . Go thy way," — repeated Anna ]Mart3^novna, — "and pick up that wheel; thou seest it is lying around." The peasant flew to execute her command, and slie stood for a few moments longer on the porch, and still kept gazing in the direction of the grove. Then she silently shook her fist, and slowly went into the house. " Aksiiitka! " — rang out her im- perious voice indoors. Anna Martynovna wore a wrathful aspect, and seemed to compress in a peculiarly firm manner her lips, which were thin enough already. She was carelessly dressed, and a lock of dishevelled hair fell on her shoulder. But notwithstandino- the slatternliness of her attire, notwithstanding her ire, she seemed to me as attractive as ever, and it would have afforded me great pleasure to kiss the slender hand, that also seemed somehow malicious, with which, a couple of times, she swept back that dishevelled lock in anger. 310 XXI " Can it be possible tliat Martyn Petrovitch has actually turned fisherman? " I asked myself, as I wended my way to the pond, which lay on the further side of the garden. I stepped upon the dam, and glanced here and there. . . . JNIartyn Petrovitch was nowhere to be seen. I strolled along one of the shores of the pond, — and, at last, almost at the very end of it, in a tiny bay, among the flat, broken stalks of the rusty weeds, I espied a vast, grayish crag I took a closer look: it was KharlofF. Hatless, dishevelled, in a crash kaftan split at the seams, with his legs tucked up under him, he was sitting motionless on the bare earth; so motionless did he sit, that a sandpiper, at my approach, broke from the dried mud a couple of paces from him, and flew away, flap- ping its little wings and whistling, across the wa- tery expanse. It must have been, that no one had stirred in its vicinity for a long time, or fright- ened it. Kharl6ff*'s whole figure was unusual to such a degree, that no sooner did my dog catch sight of him, than it stopped abruptly, planted its legs, dropped its tail between its legs, and set up a howl. He barely turned his head, and fixed 32. A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES his wild eyes on my dog. His beard had changed him greatly, although short, but it was thick, and curled in white whorls, like Persian lambskin. In his right hand lay the end of a fishing-rod; the other end rocked feebly on the water. jNIy heart involuntarily contracted with pain; but I plucked up my courage, went to him, and bade him good-morning. He winked slowly, as though he had just waked up. " What are you doing here, JNIartyn Petro- vitch," — I began, — "are you catching fish?" " Yes fish,' — he replied, in a hoarse voice, and jerked his rod upward; from its end dangled a fragment of line, about two feet in length, devoid of a hook. " Your line is broken," — I remarked, and then I perceived, that ^Nlartyn Petrovitch had neither bait-can nor worms beside him And what fishing could there be in September, anyway? " Is it broken? " — he said, and passed his hand over his face. " But it makes no difference." Again he flung out his line. " Are you Xatalya Xikolaevna's son? " — he asked, after a couple of minutes, during which I had })een scrutinising liim, not without secret amazement. Although he had grown very thin, he still seemed a giant; but in what rags he was clad, and liow neglected he was! " Yes," — I replied, — " I am the son of Na- tiilya Xikoliievna 15 * * * " 321 A KING I.EAR OF THE STEPPES "Is she well r' " iSIy mother is well. She was very much pained by your refusal," I added; "she did not in the least expect that you would not wish to go to lier." ]\Iartyn Petrovitch dropped his head. "And hast thou been there?" he asked, nodding his head to one side. "Where?" " Yonder, at the manor-house. Hast thou been? Go away. What hast thou to do here? Go away. There 's no use in talking to me. I don't like it." He stopped. " Thou wouldst like to play all the time with thy gun. When I was of thy age, I used to run that same road. Only, I had a father .... but I revered him, so I did ! — not like the folks of the present day. JNIy father used to thrash me with a long whip — and that settled it ! I stopped play- ing! Therefore, I respected him . . . Phew! . . . 1 es Again Kharloff ceased speaking. " And thou must not stay here," — he began again. " Go to the manor-house. The house- keeping is splendidly run there now. Vo- lodka . . . ." He hesitated for a moment. " That Volodka of mine is a great hand at all sorts of things. A fine fellow! but what a beast he is, too! " 322 "A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES I did not know what to say; Martyn Petro- vitch spoke very calmly. "And just look at my daughters! You re- member that I had daughters, 1 suppose. They are also clever managers. But I am getting old, brother; I have stepped aside. To rest, thou knowest " "A pretty sort of rest!" — I said to myself, casting a glance around me. " ]Martyn Petro- vitch!" — I said aloud. "You must, positively, come to us." Kharloff glanced at me. " Go away, brother; that 's my answer." " Do not grieve my mother; do come." "Go thy way, brother; go thy way," — reit- erated KharlofF. " Why dost thou care to talk to me?" "If you have no equipage, mamma will send you hers." "Go away!" " But really now, Martyn Petrovitch! " Again KharlofF hung his head — and it seemed to me, that liis cheeks, which had grown dark as though covered with earth, flushed slightly. " I mean it ; do come," — I went on. " Why do vou sit here? Whv do vou torture yourself? " " WHiat dost tliou mean by torturing myself? " he faltered. " Precisely that — torturing thyself! " — I re- peated. 323 A KING I.KAK OF THE STEPPES Kharloif maintained silence, and seemed to be absorbed in tbouglit. Encouraged by bis silence, I decided to be frank, to act in a straigbtforward, open manner. (Do not forget, tbat I was only fifteen years old.) " INIartyn Petrovitch " — I began, seating my- self by bis side: — " you see, 1 know everytbing, absolutely everytbing! I know bow your son-in- law^ treats you — witb tbe consent of your daugbters, of course. And now you are in sucb a position . . . But wby get low-spirited?" Kbarloff persisted in bis silence, and merely dropped bis rod ; and I — wbat a wise fellow, wbat a pbilosopber I felt myself to be! " Of course," — I began again, — " you acted incautiously, in surrendering everytbing to your daugbters. That was very magnanimous on your part . . . and I sball not reproach you for it. It is far too rare a trait in our days! But if your daughters are so ungrateful — then you ought to display scorn . . . precisely that — scorn . . . but not get cast down ..,.." "Let me alone!" — whispered Kbarloff, sud- denly gnashing bis teeth, and his eyes, which were riveted on the pond, sparkled wrathfully " Go away! " " But, Martvn Petrovitch . . . ." " Go away, I tell thee ... if thou dost not, I '11 kill thee!" 324 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES I had moved up quite close to him; but at his last words, I invokmtarily sprang to my feeto " What was that you said, ]Martyn Petrovitch? " " I '11 kill thee,'l tell thee: begone! "—With a fierce groan and roar, his voice forced itself from IvharlofF's breast, but he did not turn his head, and went on wrathfully staring straight in front of him. " I '11 take and flino; thee and all thy foolish advice into the water. That will teach thee not to bother old folks, thou green strip- ling! " "He has gone mad!" flashed through my mind. I looked at him more intently, and was com- pletely dumfounded. ^Martyn Petrovitch was weeping! Tear after tear trickled from his eye- lashes upon his cheeks .... and his face had assumed a thoroughly savage expression " Begone! " — he shouted once more, — " or I '11 kill tliee, by God! so that it won't become a habit with others! " His whole ])ody twitclied to one side, as it were, and sliowed his teeth in a snarl, like a wild boar; I seized my gun, and set off on a run. ]My dog followed me, ])arking. It was frightened also. On reaching home, I did not, of course, hint to my mother, by so much as a word, what I liad seen; but when I met Souvenir, I — the devil knows why — told him all. That repulsive man was so dchghted at my narrative, and burst 32o A KING LEAH OF THE STEPPES into sucli a sqiieiiliiig laugh, and even leaped up and down, that I came near giving liini a thrash- ing. "Ekh! Wouldn't I have liked to see "—he kept repeating, choking with laughter, — " how tliat idol, tlie ' Vshede ' Kharlus, has crawled into the mud, and sits there . . ." " Go to liim at the pond, if you are so curious." " Yes; but what if he should kill me? " I was very tired of Souvenir, and repented of my ill-judged loquacity. . . . Zliitkoff, to whom he communicated my story, looked at the matter in a somewhat different light. " We shall have to appeal to the police," — he said decisively, — " and, possibly, it will be neces- sary to send for a detachment of soldiers." His presentiment as to the military detachment did not come to pass, — but something remarkable really did happen. •jf 28 XXII Ix the middle of October, three weeks after my meeting with ^lartyn Petrovitch, I was standing at the window of my chamber, in the second storey of our house, and, thinking of nothing at all, was staring dejectedly into the yard, and at the highway which ran on the other side of it. This was the fifth day that the weather had been disgusting: one could not even think of such a thing as hunting. Every living thing had taken to cover ; even the sparrows had become mute, and the daws had long since disappeared. The wind was alternately howling dully and whistling in gusts: the low-hanging sky, without a chink of light, had passed over from a disagreeable white colour to a leaden and still more ominous hue, — and the rain, which had been pouring, j^ouring down pitilessly and incessantly, suddenly became heavier, more slanting, — and dashed against the window-panes with a shriek. The trees were all storm-tossed, and had turned a sort of grey: it seemed as though everything had been stripped from them, — and then, all of a sudden, tlie wind would begin to harry them again. Everywhere stood puddles dioked with dead leaves; large bub- bles, constantly breaking and forming again, 327 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES skipped and glided across them. The mire in the load was too deep to wade through; the cold penetratetl my chamber, beneath my clothing, into my very bones ; an involuntary shiver coursed over my body — and into what an evil plight did mv soul fall! Precisely that — evil, not melan- choly. It seemed as though there would never be any more sun, or brightness, or beauty in the world; only that mire and slime, and grey mois- ture, and acrid wetness — and the wind would shriek and howd forever! So, then, I was stand- ing, in a thoughtful sort of way, at the window — and I remember : a sudden darkness descended, a blue gloom, — although by the clock it was only twelve. All at once, it seemed to me that a bear was dashing across our yard, — from the gate to the porch! Xot on all fours, it is true, but such as they are depicted when they rear up on their hind paws. I did not believe my eyes. And even if I had not beheld a bear, at anv rate it w^as some- thing huge, black, shaggy. . . . Before I had time to consider what it might be, a wild shriek suddenly rang out down-stairs. It seemed as though something unexpected, something dread- ful had forced itself into our house. A bustle arose, a running to and fro I briskly descended the stairs, and ran into the dining-room. . . . In the door of the drawing-room, with her face toward me, stood my mother, as though 328 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES rooted to the spot ; behind her several frightened women's faces were visible; the butler, two foot- men, and a page, with mouths wide open from amazement, had crammed themselves into the door leading into the anteroom; and in the mid- dle of the dining-room, covered with mud, di- shevelled, tattered, wet, — so wet that steam rose around him, and the water ran in streams across the floor, — knelt, swaying heavily to and fro, and apparently swooning, that same monster who had dashed across the yard in my sight ! But who was that monster? Kharlofl"! I approached from one side, and beheld — not his face, — but his head, M'hich he had clasped in his hands, all plastered with mud as it was. He was breathing heavily, convulsively: there was even a gurgling in his chest — and the only point which could be clearly discerned in all that dark, bespattered mass was the tiny, wildly roving whites of his ej^es. He Mas frightful! I called to mind the dignitary M'hom he had once taken up short for comparing him to a mastodon. As a matter of fact, pre- cisely such must have been the aspect of an ante- dihivian animal whicli had just escaped from anotlier and more powerful wild beast that had attacked him in the midst of the everlasting and primeval marshes. " Martvn Petrovitch! " — exclaimed my mother at last, and wrung Iier hands. " Is it thou! Oh, t merciful J^ord (iod!" 321) A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES " 'T is I .... I ..." a broken voice made itself heard, apparently expelling every sound with an eifort and pain* " Okh! 'T is II " " But what ails thee, good Lord I " " Natiilya Nikoliiv . « . . . na . . . . I have fled to you .... straight from home, on foo . . . ot." " In this mud! But thou hast not the sem- blance of a man. Rise, sit down at least And you," — she said, addressing the maids, — " run for towels, as quickly as you can. And isn't there some dry clothing?" — she asked the butler. The butler signalled with his hands, as much as to say, — where is anything to be found of that size? — " However, I can bring a coverlet," — he said: — " or there is a new horse-cloth." "Come, get up, get up, Martyn Petrovitch; sit down," — repeated my mother. " They have driven me out, madam," — moaned Kharloff , suddenly — and he threw back his head, and thrust his hands out in front of him. " They have turned me out, Natalya Niko- laevna! My own daughters, from my own home . . , ." My mother cried out : " What sayest thou? They have turned thee out ! What a sin ! what a sin ! " — ( She crossed herself) — "Only rise, Martyn Petrovitch, for pity's sake." A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES Two maids entered with towels, and stood in front of KharlofF. It was evident that they could not even imagine where they were to begin on such a mass of mud. " They have turned me out, madam; they have turned me out! " — Khar- lofF kept repeating the while. The butler re- turned with a large woollen coverlet, and also halted in perplexity. Souvenir's head was thrust through the door, then vanished. " Martyn Petrovitch, rise! rise! sit down! and tell me all about it, in its proper order," — com- manded my mother, in a tone of decision. Kharloff half rose to his feet. . . . The butler attempted to aid him, but merely soiled his hands,, and shaking his fingers, he retreated to the door. Waddling and reeling, KharlofF made his way to a chair, and sat down. The maids again ap- proached him with the towels, but he waved them aside with a gesture, and refused the coverlet also. And my mother also ceased to insist: evi- dently, to dry KharlofF was an impossibility; only his tracks on the floor were hastily wiped "P HfM XXIII " How did they come to turn thee out? " — my mother asked KharlofF, as soon as he had some- what recovered his hreath. "JNIadam! Xatalya Nikolaevna!" — he began, in a constrained voice, — and again I was struck l)y the uneasy roving of his eyes, — " I will tell you the truth : 1 myself am to blame most of all." "Precisely so; thou wouldst not listen to me," — said my mother, sinking into an arm-chair, / and lightly waving in front of her nose her per- fumed handkerchief: the stench from Kharloif was excessive .... the odour is not so strong in a forest swamp. ^' Okh, not therein lay my error, madam, but in pride. Pride has ruined me, just as it did King Nebuchadnezzar. I thought: the Lord God has not been unkind to me in the matter of brains ; if I have made up my mind about a thing, that means that it must be right. . . . But in that case the terror of death seized upon me. . . . I went astray completely! Says I to myself, I '11 show my power and my will for the last time! I '11 reward them — and thev must feel sensible of it to the grave " (Suddenly Kharloff 332 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES quivered all over. . . .) "They've driven me out of the house, like a cur ! That 's their grati- tude for you! " " But how did it come about," — mv mother was beginning again " They took my page ]Maxim away from me," — KharlofF interrupted her (his eyes continued to rove, he held both hands under his chin, with locked fingers) — " they took away my equipage, they cut off my monthly allowance, they did not pay me the stipulated stipend, — they docked me all round, — still I held my peace, still I bore it patiently! And the reason I bore it patiently .... okh! . . . was again that pride of mine I So that my enemies might not be able to say: See, now, the old fool repents! And you, also, madam, forewarned me : ' Don't bite your own nose off,' you said, — so I bore it patiently. . . . Only, to-day I go to my room — and it is already occupied — and they had flung my bed out into the store-room ! ' Thou mayest sleep there,' said they : ' we endure thee out of charity, anyway : we need thy rooms for the housekeeping,' they said. And who is it that says that to me! Volodka Slet- kin, that scoundrel, that dir " Kharloff's voice broke. "But thy daughters? What about them?" — asked my motlier. " ]}ut I contimied to ])c j)atieiit,"' — KharlofT pursued his narrative: — " it was bitter, bitter to 3a3 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES me, so it was, and inortil'yiiig to nie. ... I did not i'cv\ like looking at Ciod's world! That is why 1 would not come to you, niatushka — be- cause of that same mortification, of shame! For 5^ou see, my matushka, 1 tried eyerything: wheed- ling and threatening; and 1 exhorted them, and what not all besides! 1 bowed down before them .... so " ( KharloiF showed how he had bowed.) " And all in yain! And still I bore it patiently! At the start, in the early days of it, I did not have such thoughts. I said to myself, I '11 give them a sound thrashing, I '11 pitch them all out, so that not a seed of them shall remain. ... I '11 teach them! Well, but, later on, I— I submitted! This cross has been sent to me, I thought; it signifies that I must prepare myself for death. And all of a sudden, to-day, I 'm treated like a dog! And wdio did it? Volodka! And as you were good enough to inquire about my daughters, — why, have they any will of their own? They are Volodka's slaves! Yes!" ^ly mother was amazed. " I can understand that as regards Anna; she is his wife. But why does thy second " " Evlampiya, you mean? She's worse than Anna! She has surrendered herself utterly into Volodka's hands. And that 's the reason, too, why she refused your soldier. At his, Volodka's command. Anna — evidently — ought to feel in- jured, and, in fact, she cannot bear her sister — but 334 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES she submits! He has bewitched her, the accursed fellow! And then, you see, it must be pleasant for her, for Anna, to think, ' Here art thou, Ev- lampiya, who wert always such a proud creature, and now just see what thou hast come to! ' . . . . . . . . okh, okh! MyGod, mvGod!" ^ly mother cast a perturbed glance at me. I withdrew a little to one side, by way of precau- tion, lest I should be sent out of the room. " I am very sorry, ^lartyn Petrovitch," — she began; — "that my former nursling should have caused you pain, and should have turned out to be so bad a man; but I was deceived in him, you see. . . . Who could have expected that from him!" " Madam," — groaned KharlofF, and smote his breast, — " I cannot endure the ingratitude of my daughters. I cannot, madam! You see, I gave up ever}i;hing to them, everything! And more- over, mv conscience has tormented me. Manv things . . . okh! . . . many things have I pon- ered, as I sat by the pond, and fished! ' If thou Iiadst but done any good to any one in thy life! ' 1 meditated: — * given to the poor, set the serfs at liberty, perhaps, because they had been eternally preyed upon! Surely, thou art responsible for them in the sight of God ! Then their tears would be poured out for thee! But what is their lot now: the pit was deep under my rule — why should I conceal my sin — but now its bottom 835 A KING LEAK OF THE STEPPES cannot be seen ! ' All these sins have 1 taken upon my soul, 1 have saerilieed my conscience for my children, and by way of reward they scorn me! They have kicked me out of the house, like a dog! " " Stop thinking about it, Martyn Petrovitch," remarked my mother. " And when he said to me, that Volodka of yours," — resumed KharlofF, with fresh vigour, — " when he said to me, that I could no longer dwell in my chamber, — and I had set every beam of that chamber in place with my own hands, — when he told me that, — God knows what came over me then! My head got confused, a knife seemed to cut my heart. . . . Well! It was a choice between cutting his throat and rushing out of the house! And so I fled to you, my benefactress, Natalya Nikolaevna .... And •where was I to lay my head ? And it was raining, and muddy .... I think I must have fallen down a score of times! And now .... in this horrible condition .,..." Kharloff surveyed himself with a glance, and fidgeted about on his chair, as though he were preparing to rise. " Enough, enough, JNIartyn Petrovitch," said my mother, hastily, " where is the harm in that? Thou hast soiled the floor? That is of no conse- quence whatever! But this is the proposition which I have to make to thee. Listen ! Thou shalt 336 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES now be conducted to a private room, thou shalt have a clean bed — thou art to undress and wash thyself, then lie down and sleep " " ^Matushka, Xatalva Xikolaevna! I can't sleep! " — said KharlofF, mournfully. " It seems as though hammers were beating in my brain I For, like a useless weed, I . . . ." " Lie down, sleep," — repeated my mother, in- sistently. " And then we will give thee tea — well, and we will discuss matters with thee. Be not cast down, my old friend! If thou hast been turned out of thv house, thou wilt always find a refjige in mine. . . . For, seest thou, I have not forgotten that thou savedst my life." " Mv benefactress!" moaned Kharloff, and covered his face with his hands. " Do you save me now! " This appeal moved my mother almost to tears. " I am ready and glad to aid thee, IMartyn Petro- vitch, in every way that is within my power; but thou must promise me, that thou wilt obey me in future, and banish from thy mind all unkind thoughts." KharlofF removed his hands from his face. " If necessary," lie said, " I can even forgive!" jNIy mother nodded approvingly. " I am de- lighted to see tliat tliou art in such a truly Chris- tian frame of mind, Martvn Petrovitch; but we will talk of that liereafter. In the meanwhile, put thyself in order,- — and, chief of all, sleep. 337 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES Coiithict Martyii Petrovitch to tlie green study of thv deceased master," — said my mother, ad- dressing the hutler, — " and whatever he asks for, give it to him on the instant! Ciive orders that his clothing shall he dried and cleaned — and ask the housekeeper for whatever linen is required — dost hear ? " " I ohey," — replied the hutler. " And when he wakes up, order the tailor to take his measure; and his heard must be shaved. Xot immediately, but later on." " I obey," — repeated the butler. " Marty n Petrovitch, — be so good . . ." KharloiF rose, looked at my mother, started to approach her, but halted, made her a bow to the girdle, crossed himself thrice before the holy image, ^ and fol- lowed the butler. I slipped out of the room in his wake. ' It is customary to have an ikona, or holy image (picture). Id dining-rooms and bedrooms.— Thanslator. 338 XXIV The butler conducted Kharloff to the green study, and immediately ran for the housekeeper, as there turned out to be no linen on the bed. Souvenir, who met us in the anteroom, and skipped into the study with us, instantly began, with writhing and laughter, to hover around Kharloff, who had halted in a brown study, in the middle of the room, with his arms and legs some- what extended. The water still continued to trickle from him. "The Vshede! The Vshede Kharlus!"— squeaked Souvenir, bending double, and hold- ing on to his sides. " Great founder of the fa- mous race of the Kharloff s, look upon thy de- scendant. Isn't he a sight? Canst recognise him? Ha, ha, ha! Your illustrious highness, al- low me to kiss your hand ! why do you wear black gloves? " I tried to stop Souvenir, but it was of no use. " He called me a parasite, a sluggard ! ' Thou hast no roof of thine own,' says he. But now, I ratlier think, he has become just such another parasite as sinful I! Martyn Petrovitch is just as much of a homeless tramp now as Souvenir! 330 A KINC; LEAK OF THE STEPPES He, also, will be supported by gifts! They will take the eriist of disearded bieail, wliieh the dog sniffed at and then went his way .... as much as to say — come now, eat it! lla-ha-ha! " Kharloff still stood motioidess, with drooping head, and arms and legs outstretched. " IVIartyn Kharloff, hereditary noble!" pur- sued Souvenir, shrilly. "What importance he has assumed, oh my, phew! 'Don't come near me,' says he; ' I '11 do you an injury! ' And when he, out of his great wisdom, began to give away and portion out his property — how he did crow! ' Gratitude ! ' he yells, ' gratitude ! ' But why did he insult me? Why did n't he give me some- thing? Possibly, I might have shown more feel- ing! And the best of it is, that I told the truth, that they w^ould turn him out, naked " " Souvenir! " I shouted; but Souvenir did not stop. Still Kharloff did not move : it seemed as though he had only just begun to realise how wet everything on him was, and was waiting to have everything taken off him. But the butler did not return. "And a warrior, to boot!" — began Souvenir again. " In the year '12 he saved his fatherland! he displayed his bravery ! That 's precisely the point: to strip the measly marauders of their breeches — that 's quite in our line ; but when a hussy stamps her foot at us, our own soul drops into our breeches " 340 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Souvenir! " — I cried a second time. Kharloff shot a sidelong glance at Souvenir; up to that moment, he had not even noticed his presence, to all appearances, and only my excla- mation had aroused his attention. "Look out, brother!" — he bellowed sullenly,) — " don't go skipping into a catastrophe! " Souvenir fairly rolled with laughter. " Oldi, how you frightened me, most respected brother! how terrible vou are, really now ! You had better comb your hair; otherwise, — which God for- bid, — it will dry, and it can't be washed out afterward; it will have to be mowed with a scythe." All at once. Souvenir waxed angry. " You 're looking consequential again ! A naked beggar, yet he puts on big airs! Where's your roof now ? You 'd better tell me ; you were al- ways bragging of it. ' I 've got a roof,' says he; but now thou art roofless! ' ]My roof is heredi- tary,' says he." (This expression had struck Souvenir's fancy.) "Mr. Bvtchkoif," said I. "What are you doing! Come to your senses! " But he continued to rattle on, and kept skipping and darting about close round Khar- loff And still the butler and the house- keeper did not come! I became alarmed. I be- gan to observe that KliarlcSiT , who, in the course of the conversation with my mother, had gradu- ally calmed down, and even, toward the end, had, 341 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES apparently, become reconciled to his fate, had again begun to grow excited; he was breathing more rapidly, he seemed suddenly to swell up under the ears, his fingers began to twitch, again his eyes began to roll about in the midst of the dark mask of his mud -begrimed face "Souvenir! Souvenir!" I cried. "Stop! I shall tell mamma." But Souvenir seemed possessed of a devil. " Yes, yes, my most respected ! " — he snarled again, — " just see in what subtle circumstances you and I now find ourselves! And your daugh- ters, with your son-in-law, Vladimir Vasilievitch, are laughing their fill at you under your roof! And 5^ou might, at least, have cursed them, ac- cording to your promise ! But you were n't equal even to that much ! And vou 're no match for Vladimir Vasilievitch, anyway! And you have called him Volodka, into the bargain! How is he Volodka ^ to you? He is Vladimir Vasilievitch, Mr. Sletkin, landed proprietor, a gentleman, — and as for thee — what art thou? " A fierce roar drowned Souvenir's speech. . . Kharloff had exploded. His fists clenched them- selves and rose aloft, his face turned blue, foam made its appearance on his chapped lips, he quiv- ered with rage. " Roof, sayest thou! " he thun- dered with his iron voice, — "a curse! sayest ^ Meaning, "dirty, miserable little Vladimir." The diminutive in ka almost always expresses contempt: hence the two forms used in this story at different points— F«/wZya and Fo^odA'a. — Translator. 342 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES thou Xo! I will not curse them Much tliey care for that! But the roof . . . . I "11 destroy their roof, and thev shall have no roof, any more than I have! They shall learn to know ^Nlartvn Kharloff ! ]Mv strength has not vanished vet! I '11 teach them to jeer at me! . . . They shall have no roof!" I was dumfounded; never in my life had I been witness to such boundless wrath. It was not a hvnnan being — but a fierce m ild beast which was ramping about in front of me! I w^as stunned .... but Souvenir, — crawled under the table in affright. "They shall have none!" — shouted KharlofF for the last time, and almost upsetting the house- keeper and butler, who entered at that moment, he rushed out of the house He dashed headlong through the yard, and disappeared be-= yond the gate. 343 XXV My mother was frightfully angry when the butler came, with troubled countenance, to an- nounce jNIartyn Petrovitch's new and sudden de- parture. He dared not conceal from her the cause of that departure: I was compelled to confirm his statements. " So it is all thy fault! " — shrieked my mother at Souvenir, who started to run forward like a hare, and even kissed her hand: — "thine abominable tongue is to blame for it all! " — " Good gracious! I '11 immejutly, immejutly , . . ." lisped Souvenir, stammering and jerking his elbows behind his back " ' Immejutly immejutly . . . .' — I know all about thy ' immejutly ' ! " repeated my mother, reproachfully, and sent him out of the room. Then she rang the bell, commanded that Kvitzinsky should be summoned, and gave him her orders: to set out without delay for Es'kovo in her equipage, hunt up Martyn Petrovitch, at any cost, and bring him back. " Don't present yourself before me without him!" — she said in conclusion. The grim-visaged Pole bowed si- lently, and withdrew. I returned to my own room, seated myself by 'M4s A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES the window again, and meditated long on what had taken place before my eyes. I was bewil- dered; I could not possibly understand why KharlofF, who had endured, almost without re- monstrance, the insult dealt him by the members of his household, had not been able to control himself, and had failed to endure the jeers and taunts of such an insignificant creature as Souve- nir. I did not then know what intolerable bit- terness may be contained, sometimes, in an empty reproach, even when it proceeds from con- temptible lips The hated name of Sletkin, uttered by Souvenir, had fallen like a spark in powder ; the sore spot had not been able to bear this last sting. About an hour elapsed. Our calash drove into the yard; but in it sat our steward alone. Yet my mother had said to him: "Do not present yourself without him!'' Kvitzinsky sprang has- tily from the carriage, and ran up the steps. His face wore a perturbed aspect, — a thing which hardly ever happened with him. I imme- diately went down-stairs, and followed on his heels into the drawing-room. "Well? have you brought him?" — asked my mother. " No," — replied Kvitzinsky, — " and I could not bring him." " Why so? did you see him? " " Yes." 345 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES " AVluit has hapi)ened to him? A stroke of apoplexy? " " Not at all; nothing has happened to him." " Then why have not you brought him? " " He is destroying his house." "What?" " He is standing on the roof of the new wing — and destroying it. Forty or more of the planks, I should say, have already flown off." (" They shall have no roof! " KharlofF's words recurred to my mind.) My mother stared at Kvitzinsky. " He is standing .... alone ... on the roof, and tearing it to pieces?" " Precisely so, madam. He is walking along the planking on the roof -tree, and breaking down on the right and the left. His strength is super- natural, as you know ! Well, and the roof, to tell the truth, is a miserable one: it is laid with gaps,^ it is nailed on with the thinnest sort of upper boards, two-and-a-quarter-inch nails." My mother glanced at me, as though to assure herself whether she had not, in some way, heard wrongly. " Thin boards with spaces," — she re- peated, evidently not understanding the mean- ing of a single one of these words 1 That is, when between every pair of planks an open space is left, covered over on top with another plank : such a roof is cheaper, but less durable. The thinnest upper boards are half a vershok in thick- ness, the ordinary board being three-quarters of a versh6k. (Th« vcrshdk is one and three-quarter inches.) — Author's Note. 34G A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Well, and what do you want ? " — she sai'd at last. " I am come for instructions. Without men to help, nothing can be done. The peasants there have all hidden themselves with fright." " And his daughters — what of them.' " " His daughters are all right. They are rush- ing about at random .... shrieking . . . But what good does that do .'^ " " And is Sletkin there?" " Yes, he 's there also. He 's yelling the worst of all — but he can do nothing." " And Martyn Petrovitch is standing on the roof.'" " Yes — on the roof . . . that is to say, in the garret, and is destroying the roof." " Yes, yes," — said my mother, — " the thin boards. . . ." Evidently, an unusual case had presented it- self. What was to be done.'* Send to town for the chief of the rural police — assemble the peasants ? Mv mother was utterlv at a loss. Zhitkoff, who had come to dinner, was equally at a loss. Truth to tell, he again made mention of his militarv command, but he offered no ad- vice, and only wore a submissive and devoted air. Kvitzinsky, perceiving that he would get no instruf^tions, announced to mv mother, witli the scornful respect peculiar to him, that if she 347 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES would permit him to take several of the stable- men, gardeners, and other house-serfs, he would make an efi'ort " Yes, yes," — my mother interrupted him, — " do make an effort, my dear Vikenty Osipiteh! Only, be quick about it, pray, and I will assume all the responsibility!" Kvitzinsky smiled frigidly. " Allow me to explain one thing to you in advance, madam: it is impossible to answer for the results, for Mr. I\ harloff 's strength is great, and so is his despair : he considers himself greatly wronged! " "Yes, yes," — assented my mother: — "and that abominable Souvenir is to blame for all! I shall never forgive him for this. Go, take men with you, proceed, Vikenty Osipiteh! " " Take as many ropes as possible, Mr. Man- ager, — and fire-hooks," — said Zhitkoff in his bass voice, — " and if you have a net, — it would n't be a bad thing to take that also. Now once upon a time, in our regiment " " Be so good as not to instruct me, my dear sir," — interrupted Kvitzinsky, with vexation: " I know what is required, without any sugges- tions from you." Zliitkoff took offence, and remarked that as he assumed that he also was bidden . . . " No, no," — interposed my mother. " Thou hadst better stay here. . . Vikenty Osipiteh will act alone. . , . Go, Vikenty Osipiteh!" 348 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES ZliitkofF was more angry than before, but Kvitzinsky bowed and left the room. I flew to the stable, hastily saddled my horse with my own hands, and set off at a gallop on the road to Es'koyo. 349 XXVI The rain had ceased; but the wmd was blowing with redoubled violence — straight in my face. Half way on my road, my saddle came near turning with me: the girth had loosened: I alighted, and set to dragging at the strap with mv teeth All at once, I heard some one calling me by name. . . Souvenir was running toward me over the grass. . " Well, little fa- ther," — he shouted at me, while still afar off, — "has curiosity conquered you? Well, you could n't help yourself. . . And I 'm going thither also, straight, on Kharloff 's tracks Why, you '11 never see such a sight again in all your lif e ! " " You want to admire the work of your hands," — I said indignantly, sprang on my horse, and set off again at a gallop; but the in- defatigable Souvenir did not leave me, and even shouted with laughter and writhed as he ran. And here, at last, was Es'kovo, here was the dam, — and yonder were the long wattled fence and the willows of the manor. . . I rode up to the gate, alighted, and tied my horse; and stood stock-still in amazement. ;>.)0 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES Of the front third of the roof, on the new wing of the mezzanine, only the skeleton remained, the shingles and sheathing-boards lay in form- less heaps upon the ground, on both sides of the wing. Admitting that the roof had been, ac- cording to Kvitzinsky's expression, a paltry one; nevertheless, the thing was incredible. On the planking of the loft, stirring up dust and rub- bish, a blackish-grey mass was moving about with climisy agility, and now shaking loose the remaining chimney, built of bricks (the other had already fallen), now ripping off a board, and hurling it down, now clutching at the very rafters themselves. It was Kharloff. He seemed to me then a perfect bear: his head, and his back, and his shoulders were those of a bear, and he planted his legs wide apart, without bend- ing the bottom of his feet, just as a bear does. The keen wind was blowing a gale around him on every side, lifting his matted hair; it was ter- rible to see, his naked body gleaming red through the rents in his tattered raiment: it was terrible to hear his fierce, hoarse muttering. The yard was filled with people: peasant women, dirty little boys, housemaids were ranged along the fence; a few peasant men had clustered together in a separate group at a distance. The old priest, whom I knew, was standing liatless on the steps of the other wing, and clas})ing a brass cross in both hands, silently and hopelessly raised it 351 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES aloft, from time to time, and seemed to be show- ing it to Kharloff. By the priest's side stood Ev- himpiya, and with her back propped against the wall, she gazed immovably at her father; Anna now thrust her head out of the little window, again she vanished, now she ran out into the j^ard, again she went back into the house; Slet- kin, all pale, sallow, in an old dressing-gown and a skull-cajj, with a single-barrelled gun in his hands, was running back and forth, with short / steps. He had become a thorough-going Jew,"^ \ as the expression is: he panted, and threatened, shook himself, took aim at KharlofF, then flung his gun on his shoulder, again took aim, shouted, wept. . . . On catching sight of me and Souve- nir, he fairly hurled himself at us. " Look, look, what is going on yonder! " — ^he squeaked, — "look! He has gone crazy, he has got into a fury .... and see what he is doing! I have sent for the police, — but no one comes! No one comes! If I were to shoot him, the law could not call me to account, because every man has a right to defend his property! And I will shoot! ... By God, I '11 shoot!" He ran toward the house. " Marty n Petrovitch, beware! If you don't come down, I '11 shoot! " " Shoot away! " — rang out a hoarse voice from the roof. " Shoot away! And meanwhile, here 's a gift for thee! " ^.52 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES A long board flew down from above — and turning a couple of times in the air, crashed to the ground directly at Sletkin's feet. The latter fairly leaped into the air, and KharlofF burst into a loud laugh. "Oh, Lord Jesus!" — faltered some one be- hind my back. I glanced round: it was Souvenir. " Ah!" I thought; "he has stopped laughing now!" Sletkin seized by the collar a peasant who stood near. " Come, climb up, climb up, climb up, you devils! " he yelled, shaking him with all his might — " save my property! " The peasant took a couple of steps, flung back liis head, waved his hands, shouted: " Hey! you! sir!" — stamped up and down a bit where he stood, and round about face. " A ladder! fetch a ladder! "—Sletkin shouted at the remaining peasants. "And where are we to get it?" — resounded in reply. " And even if there were a ladder," — re- marked one voice, in a leisurely way, — " who wants to climb up there? You must think we are fools! He 'd wring thy neck — in the twink- ling of an eye! " " He 'd kill him dVectly "—said one young, fair-haired fellow with a very evil face. "And why shouldn't he?" — chimed in the 353 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES rest. It seemed to me, that even had there been no self-evident danger, still the peasants would not willingly have obeyed the orders of their new master. They all but encouraged KharlofF — although he had surprised them. " Akh, you bandits! " groaned Sletkin, " I '11 give it to you all. . . ." But at this point the last chimney came down with a crash, and in the midst of clouds of yellow dust which arose for a moment, KharlofF, emit- ting a piercing yell, and raising his blood-stained hands aloft, turned his face toward us. Again Sletkin took aim at him. Evlampiya pulled him back by the elbow. " Don't meddle! " he vented his wrath fiercely on her. "And as for thee — don't dare!" — said she; — and her blue eyes flashed menacingly from beneath her knitted brows. " My father is de- \ stroying his own house. It 's his property." " Thou liest: it is ours! " "Thou sayest: 'it is ours:' — but I say 'tis his." Sletkin hissed with rage; Evlampiya fairly bored her eyes into his face. " Ah, how d' ye do! how d' ye do! my amiable daughter! " — thundered Kharloff from on hign. "Good-morning, Evlampiya Martynovna! How dost thou get along wn'th thy friend? — Do you kiss and fondle each other nicely? " 854 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES "Father!" — rang out Evlampiya's resonant voice. "What, dear daughter?" — replied Kharloff, and moved forward to the very brink of the wall. So far as could be seen, a strange grin had made its appearance on his face — a bright, cheery, and, precisely for that reason, peculiarly dread- ful grin jNIany years afterward, I saw exactly that same sort of grin on the face of a man condemned to death. " Stop, father; come down! " (Evlampiya did not call him " batiushka " — dear little father.) " We are guilty ; we will give thee back every- thing. Come down." " And why art thou making arrangements for us?" — put in Sletkin. Evlampiya merely contracted her brows still more. " I will restore to thee my portion — I will give thee everything. Stop; come down, father! Forgive us; forgive me! " Still KIiarlofF went on grinning. " Too late, my dear little dove," — said he, and every word of his had the ring of brass. " Thy stony soul has stirred too late! The ball has started to roll down hill — tliou canst not stop it now! And thou needst not look at me! I 'm a doomed man! Eook rather at thv Volodka: see what a beauty thou hast sought out for thyself! And look at thy viper of a sister: yonder she is sticking her foxy nose out of tlie window, yonder she is egg- 3.5."^ A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES ing her nice little husband on! No, my dear young madams ! You have wanted to deprive me of a roof — therefore I will not leave you one beam upon another! Witli my own hands I placed them, with my own hands I will destroy — just as I am, with my hands alone! See, I have not taken an axe! " He spat on both his palms, and again grasped the rafters. " Enough, father," — Evlampiya was saying in the meanwhile, and her voice, somehow, grew wonderfully caressing, — " forget the past. Come, believe me; thou hast always trusted me. Do come down ; come to my chamber, to my soft bed. I will dry thee, and warm thee ; I will bind up thy wounds, for thou hast flayed thy hands. Thou shalt live with me as though thou wert in Christ's bosom, eat sweetly, and sleep still more sweetly. Come, we have been to blame, well, and we have grown arrogant, we have sinned; come, forgive! " KharlofF shook his head. " Jabber away! As though I would believe you! You have killed belief within me ! You have killed everything ! I was an eagle — and made myself a worm for you and you — mean to crush the worm? Enough of that ! I loved thee, thou knowest it, — but now thou art not my daughter — and I am not thv father . . . I 'm a doomed man! Don't interfere! And as for thee, fire away, thou cow- 356 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES ard, woe-hero!" bellowed KharlofF suddenly at Sletkin. " Why dost thou keep taking aim? Hast thou called to mind the law: if he that has received a gift shall be guilty of an attempt on the life of the giver," — said KharlofF, pausing between the words, — " then the giver has a right to demand the return of everything? Ha, ha, — have no fear, thou man versed in law ! I shall not demand it — I shall finish it all myself. . . Here goes! " Father! " implored Evlampiya, for the last time. "Hold thy tongue!" " ^lartyn Petrovitch, brother, be magnani- mous, forgive! " — faltered Souvenir. " Father, darling! " /- " Silence, bitch ! "—yelled KharlofF. He did not even look at Souvenir — but merely spat in his direction. 3.57 XXVII At that moment, Kvitzinsky with his whole squad — in three peasant carts — made his appear- ance at the gate. The weary horses snorted, the men, one after another, sprang out into the mud. "Ehe!" shouted KharlofF, at the top of his voice. "An army, there it is, an army! They are setting in array a whole army against me. Very good! Only, I give you warning, that if any one comes hither to me on the roof — I '11 pitch him down head over heels! I 'm a surly host, I don't like untimely guests! So there, now!" He clutched the front pair of rafters in both hands, the so-called " legs " of the pediment, — and began to rock them to and fro violently. Hanging from the edge of the planking, he drew them after him, as it were, chanting in measured rhythm, stevedore fashion: "Heave-ho! heave- ho! ukh!" Sletkin ran to Kvitzinsky, and began to com- plain and to whimper. . . . The latter requested him " not to meddle," and proceeded to put in execution the plan which he had formed. He himself took up his stand in front of the house, and began by way of creating a diversion, to ex- 358 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES plain to Kharloff that what he was about was not a deed worthy of a nobleman "Heave-ho! heave-ho!" — chanted KhaiiofF. .... That Xatalya Xikolaevna was very much displeased with him, and had not expected this of him "Heave-ho! heave-ho! ukh!" — chanted Khar- loff; — and, in the meantime, Kvitzinsky had de- tailed four of the most robust and daring of the stablemen to the opposite side of the house, with the object of having them mount to the roof from behind. But the plan of attack did not escape Kharloif's notice; he suddenly abandoned the rafters, and ran nimbly to the rear part of the mezzanine. His aspect was so terrifying, that two stablemen, who had already succeeded in as- cending to tlie garret, instantly slid back to the ground by the water-spout, to the no small satis- faction and even laughter of the little boys of the house-servants. KharlofF shook his fist after them, and returning to the front portion of the house, he again seized hold of the rafters, and again began to rock tliem, again chanting, in stevedore style. Suddenly he stopped, and looked about him. . . " Maxi'muslika, friend! comrade!" he cried: " do I behold thee? " I glanced round In fact, Maxfmka, the page, had detached himself from tlie throng 3j9 A KIXC; LEAR OF THE STEPPES of peasants, and smirking and displaying his teeth in a grin, had stepped forward. His mas- ter, the saddler, had probahly allowed liim to return home for a brief visit. " Climb up here to me, Maximushka, my faith- ful servant," — went on KharlofF; — " we will together ward off the savage Tatar folk, the Lithuanian thieves!" INIaximka, still grinning, instantly climbed to the roof. . But he was seized and dragged back — God knows why — perhaps by way of example for the rest ; he could not have rendered much aid to JNIartyn Petrovitch. "Well, very good! All right!" — articulated KharlofF in a menacing voice, and again set to work at the rafters. " Vikenty Osipovitch! with your permission, I will shoot ! " — said Sletkin to Kvitzinsky ; — " you see, my gun is loaded with bird-shot, chiefly by way of frightening him." But before Kvitzinsky could answ^er him, the foremost pair of rafters, vigorously shaken by the iron hands of Kharloff, heeled over, cracked, and fell into the yard — and with them, being unable to hold himself back, fell Kharloff himself, and crashed heavily on the ground. All shuddered, cried out. . . Kharloff lay motionless, and against his back rested lengthwise the upper beam of the roof, the roof -tree, which had followed the fall- ing pediment. 360 XXVIII The people rushed to Kharloff, dragged the beam awav from him, turned hhn over on his back; his face was hfeless, there was blood about his mouth ; he was not breathing. " The spirit\ is knocked out of him," — muttered the peasants who had stepped forward. They ran to the well for water, they brought a whole bucketful, and drenched Kharloff' s head : the mud and dust left his face, but its lifeless aspect remained as be- fore. They dragged up a bench, placed it close against the wing, and with difficulty lifting ]\Iar- tyn Petrovitch's huge body, they placed it upon the bench, with his head leaning against the wall. The page ]Maximka approached, knelt down on one knee, and thrusting the other leg far out, supported the arm of his former master in a the- atrical sort of way. Evlampiya, pale as death itself, stood directly in front of her father, with her huge eves riveted immovablv on him. Anna and Sletkin did not come near. All maintained silence, all waited for something or other. At last, broken, throbbing sounds became audible in Kharl()f!"s tliroat — as thougli he were choking. . . . Tlien lie feebly moved one liand — the right one (Maximka was holding the left), opened one eye, — the right, — and slowly gazing 301 A KING LEAK OF THE STEPPES arouiul him, as though (h'link with some terrible sort of intoxication, lie groaned, — articulated, in- distinctly: — " I am in ... . iured " And then he added, as though after a brief re- flection : — " this is it ... . the bla . . . ack CO ... . olt!" The blood suddenly welled in a thick torrent from his mouth — his whole body quivered " It is the end! " I thought But again KharlcSfF opened one eye, — it was still the right one (the left eyelid did not move, any more than that of a corpse ) , — and fixing it on Evlampiya, he articulated, in a barely audible tone: " Well, daugh .... ter, I do not for " Kvitzinsky, with a sharp gesture, called up the priest, who was still standing on the steps of the wing. . . . The old man drew near, entangling his weak knees in his narrow cassock. But all at once, KharlofF's legs twitched in a horrible manner, and so did his trunk; athwart his face, from below upward, coursed a nervous convul- sion — and Evlampiya's face was distorted in precisely the same manner. Maximka began to cross himself. ... I was horrified, I ran to the gate, and leaned my breast against it, without glancing round. A minute later, a soft murmur broke from all the mouths behind me — and I understood that Martyn Petrovitch was dead. The roof -tree had broken the nape of his neck, and he had smashed in his breast himself, as was proved at the autopsy. S62 XXIX " What was it that he tried to say to her, as he was dying? " I asked myself, as I rode homeward on mv trotter; " ' I do not curse thee? ' or ' I do not for .... give thee? ' " ^ The rain was again pouring down, but I rode at a foot-pace, I wished to remain alone as long as possible, — I wished to give myself up to my meditations. Souvenir set off in one of the carts, which had arrived with Kvitzinsky. Young and giddy as I was at that period, yet the sudden, general change (not in minor details alone) which is al- ways evoked in all hearts by the unexpected or the expected (it makes no difference!) appear- ance of death, its solemnity, importance and righteousness — could not but impress me. And impressed I was .... but nevertheless, my perturbed, childish gaze immediately took note of many things: it noted how Sletkin flung his gun on one side, promptly and timidly, just as though it were a stolen article, how he and his wife both instantaneously became the object of a silent but universal avoidance, how a vacant space was ' The point here raiinot be made apparent in English. The half- tittfred word in Russian mijfht be either: pro . . klivijnm (curse) or pro. . */ieasant whom I recognised as one of Kharloff 's. " He was the master, of course," — replied the peasant: — "nevertheless .... thev wronged him!" At the grave, Evlampiya stood as though be- wildered, ^lusing, .... painful musing, tor- mented her. I noticed that she treated Sletkin, who spoke to her several times, as she had treated Zliitkoff — and much worse. A few days later, a rumour became current in our neighbourhood, that Evlampiya INIartynovna KharlofF had left the paternal home forever, abandoning to her sister and her brother-in-law all the property whicli liad fallen to her, and tak- ing with lier only a few hundred rubles " That Anna has, evidently, bought her free- dom!" — remarked mv mother: — " onlv, thou and I have unskilful liands!" — she added, ad- dressing Zhitkoff, with whom she was play- ing piquet — he had superseded Souvenir with licr. Zhitkoff cast a dejected glance at his 3G7 A KIXG I.EAR OF THE STEPPES hairy paws. . . " They certainly are unskilful! " he seemed to be saying to himself Soon after this, my mother and I removed our residence to JNIoscow, — and many years elapsed before I chanced to see the two daughters of Martyn Petrovitch again. 368 XXX But see them I did. I encountered Anna Mar- tynovna in the most commonplace fashion. While visiting our country-place, where I had not been for fifteen years, after the death of my mother, I received an invitation from the arbitrator — (at that time, all over Russia, the delimitation of the alternating strips of land belonging to proprie- tors and peasants was proceeding with a slow- ness which has not been forgotten to this day) — an invitation to come for consultation with the other owners of our country-side, to the estate of widow Anna Sletkin. The informa- tion that mv mother's " dirtv little Jew," with his little eyes like dried prunes, was no longer in the land of the living, did not cause me the slight- est grief, I admit; but I thought it would be in- teresting to have a look at his widow. She had tlie reputation, in our parts, of being a capital manager. And it was true : her estate and liome- farm, and even her house — (I cast an involun- tary glance at the roof; it was of iron), — all pro\'cd to be in superlative order, everything was accurately, neatly kept, and where it was neces- sary, things were painted — as tliough they had A KINCi I.KAU OF THE STEPPES belonged to a Gerinaii woman. Anna Mar- tynovna lieiself liad, of course, grown older; but tiiat peeuiiar gaunt and, as it were, malicious charm, wiiieh had formerly excited me, had not entirely left her. She was dressed in country fashion, but elegantly. She received us — not cordially, — that word did not suit her, — but cour- teously, and, on seeing me, the witness of that dreadful episode, she did not move a muscle. Not a syllable did she utter about my mother, nor about her father or her sister, nor even her hus- band, any more than if they had never existed.^ She had two daughters, both very pretty, well- built girls, with sweet little faces, and a merry, caressing look in their black eyes; she had also a son, who took somewhat after his father, but he also was a very fine little boy. During the progress of the discussion between the proprie- tors, Anna Martynovna bore herself calmly, with dignity, displaying neither special stubbornness nor special covetousness. But no one understood his advantages any better than she did hers, and no one understood how to set forth more con- vincingly and to defend all her rights. All the " laws which were applicable," even the minis- terial circulars, were well known to her; she said little, and that in a (]uiet voice, but every word bit the mark. It ended by our expressing our 1 Russian: "Exactly as though she had her mouth full of water."— TuANSLATOR. 370 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES assent to all her demands, and making such con- cessions, that there was nothing left for us to do but wonder at them. On the way home, some of the well-born landed proprietors even cursed themselves roundly; all groaned and shook their heads. " What a clever woman? " — said one. " A crafty rogue! " — interposed a second and less delicate proj^rietor: — " The bed is soft in the making, but hard to sleep on! " " Yes, and a miser, into the bargain ! " — added a third: — " "Would it have hurt her to give us a glass of vodka and a bit of caviar? " " AVhat do you expect from her? " — chimed in rashly a proprietor who had hitherto held his peace; — "who does not know that she poisoned her husband? " To my amazement, no one considered it neces- sary to refute this frightful accusation, which, assuredly, had no foundation! This surprised me the more, because, despite the objurgatory expressions which I have quoted, all felt respect for Anna ]Martynovna, not even excepting the indelicate proprietor. The arbitrator even waxed pathetic. " Put her on a throne," — he exclaimed, — " and slie 'd be a regular Semiramis or Kather- Ine II! The obedience of her peasants is exem- plary. . . The way she has reared her children is exemplary! What a head! What a brain!" -371 A KIXC; LEAH OF THE STEPPES Leaving Seniiramis and Katherine II out of the question, — there was no doubt that Anna iSIartynovna led a very happy life. The woman herself, her family, her whole surroundings, fairly reeked witli inward and outward content- ment, with the agreeable tran(|uillity of spiritual well-being. To what degree she was deserving of tliat happiness ... is another question. However, one puts such questions only in youth. Everything in tlie world, both good and bad, is /^ bestowed upon a man, not in accordance with his merits, but as the result of some unknown but logical laws, which I will not even take it upon myself to indicate, although it sometimes seems to me that I dimly discern them. XXXI I INQUIRED of the arbitrator concerning Evlam- piya iSlartynovna- — and learned that as soon as she had left her home she had vanished without a trace — and probably had long since " flown up on high." That was the way our arbitrator put it ... . but I am convinced that I have seen Evlampiya, that I have met her. And this is how it came about. About four years after my meeting with Anna Martvnovna, I settled down for the summer at Murino, a small village near Petersburg, well known to summer-villa residents of moderate means. The hunting was not bad around Mii- rino, at that ej^och,— and I went out with my gun nearly every day. I had a comrade, a cer- tain Vikuloff , a member of the petty burgher class — a good-natured and far from stupid young fellow, — but, as he was wont to say of himself, a man of completely " lost " conduct. Where and what had not that man been! No- thing could astonish him, he knew everything, — but he loved nothing excejjt hunting — and liquor. AVcll, one day lie and I were return- 373 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES ing to ^liiriiio, and we had to pass a certain house, which stood at the intersection of two roads, and was enclosed in a tall, close paling- fence. It was not the first time I had seen this house, and on every occasion it had aroused my curiosity; there was something mysterious, fast- locked, grimly-dumb, something which reminded the beholder of a prison or a hospital, about it. All that could be seen from the road was a steep roof, painted in a dark hue. In all the fence there was but one gate, and that appeared to be hermeticallv fastened ; no sound was ever audible behind it. Nevertheless, you felt that some one certainly dwelt in that house; it did not, in the least, present the aspect of an abandoned dwell- ing. On the contrary, everything about it was so durable, and firm, and stout, that it could have stood a siege. " What sort of a fortress is this ? " — I asked my companion. " Do you know? " Vikiiloff gave a sly wink. " A remarkable edifice, is n't it? The local chief of police gets a large income from it! " "How so?" " Why, because he does. You have heard, I suppose, about the dissenters called the Scour- gers — those who live without priests? " " Yes, I have heard of them." " Well, this is where their head-mother fives." " A woman? " 374 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES " Yes — the mother ; the Birthgiver of God, according to them." ^ " What do vou mean? " " Just what I 'm telhng you. Such a stern woman she is, they say. ... A regular female commander-in-chief! She rules over thousands! I 'd just like to take all those Birthgivers of God, and give it to them. . . . But what 's the use of saying anything! " He called up his Pegashka, a remarkable dog, with a splendid scent, but without the slight- est comprehension of pointing. VikiilofF was obliged to tie up its hind leg, to keep it from run- ning about wildly. His words sank into my memory. I used to go out of my way purposely, in order that I might pass the mysterious house. And lo, one day, suddenly, as I came opposite it, — wonderful to relate! the bolt thundered in the gate, the key squeaked in the lock, — then the gate itself opened gently — a powerful horse's head, with braided forelock, under a pattern-painted shaft- archi made its appearance, and out on the road, at a leisurely pace, rolled a small waggon of the sort in which drive little ladies of the fast set and tlie mistresses of merchants. On the leathern cusKon of the v/aggon, nearest to me, sat a man 'The Russian title of the Virgin is correctly translated thus, and all the peculiar Russian sects (almost without exception) have Ma- don»'%s — soi»« even Christs.— Tkansi.atou. 375 A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES of about tliiity years of age, of remarkably hand- some and benevolent appearance, in a neat black lon«4-coat, and with a black cap of military shape pulled low down upon his brow; he was driving, in a sedate way, the broad-backed horse, full- fed to bursting; and by the side of the man, on the other side of the waggon, sat a woman of lofty stature, straight as an arrow. A costly black shawl covered her head ; she was dressed in a short velvet sacque, olive in hue, and a dark- blue merino petticoat; her white hands» staidly folded on her lap, supported each other. The waggon turned into the road to the left, — and the woman was brought within two paces of me; she turned her head slightly, — and I recognised Evlampiya Kharloff . I recognised her instantly, — I did not hesitate for a single moment, — and, indeed, hesitation was impossible: such eyes as she had, — and especially such a curve of the lips, arrogant and sensual, — I have never beheld in any one else. Her face had grown longer and thinner, her skin had darkened, here and there wrinkles were visible; but the expression of that face in particular had undergone a change! It is difficult to convey in words to what a degree it had become self-confident, stern, haughty! It was not the simple composure of authority, — but the utter permeation of authority, which every feature breathed forth ; the careless glance which she dropped on me expressed a long-established, 376 A KIXG LEAR OF THE STEPPES ingrained habit of encountering only adoring, unquestioning submission. This woman — evi- dently — lived surrounded not by admirers, — but by slaves: obviously, she had even forgotten the time when any command or even wish of hers had not been instantlv fulfilled! I called her loudly by name and patronymic; she gave a barely perceptible start, cast another glance at me — not of alarm, — but of scornful indignation : as much as to say: " Who dares to disturb me? " — and barely opening her lips, she uttered an im- perious word. The man who sat beside her gave a start, dealt a flourishing blow with the reins to the horse, — which moved on with a brisk, large trot, — and the waggon disappeared. I have never met Evlampiya since. How the daughter of Martyn Petrovitch came to be the Birthgiver of God to the Scourgers — I cannot even imagine; but who knows — perhaps she was the founder of a sect, which will be called — or is even now called, by her name, — " the Evlampi- yevshtchina " ? All sorts of things come to pass. And this is what I had to tell you about my " King Lear of the Steppe," his family and his doings. The narrator ceased speaking — and we chatted a while, then went our ways. 377 PHANTOMS (1863) CONTENTS PAGE PHANTOMS: A FANTASY 1 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF 55 "FAUST": A STORY IN NINE LETTERS . . 127 AN EXCURSION TO THE FOREST BELT ... 203 ASYA 239 PHANTOMS (1863) PHANTOMS A FANTASY One instant . . . and the magic tale is o'er— And with the possible the soul is filled once more. A. Fet.i I COULD not get to sleep for a long time, and kept tossing incessantly from side to side. " ]May the devil take those table-tipping follies ! " — I thought: — "they only upset the nerves." — Drowsiness began to overpower me. . . Suddenly it seemed to me as though a chord had twanged faintly and lugubriously in the room. I raised my head. The moon was hanging low in the sky, and staring me straight in the eye. White as chalk its light lay on the floor. . . . The strange sound was clearly repeated. I leaned on my elbow. A slight alarm nipped at my heart. — One minute passed, then another. .... A cock crowed somewhere in the distance; still further away another answered. I dropped my head on my pillow. " Just see ^The pseudonym of Afandsy Afandsievitch Sh^nsbin (1820-1K92).— Tkanslatoh. 8 THANTOMS to what one can bring one's self," I began my re- flections again: — "my ears will begin to ring." A little later I fell asleep — or it seemed to me that I did. I had a remarkable dream. It seemed to me as thongh I were lying in my bedroom, in my bed, but I was not asleep, and could not close my eyes. ... I turned over. . . . The streak of moonlight on the floor softly began to rise up, to straighten itself, to become slightly rounded at the top. . . . Before me, transparent as mist, a white woman stood motionless. " Who art thou? " — I asked with an effort. The voice which replied was like the rustling of leaves.—" It is I .... I .... I .... I have come for thee." " For me ? But who art thou ? " " Come by night to the corner of the forest, where the old oak stands. I shall be there." I tried to get a good look at the features of the mysterious woman — and suddenly I gave an involuntary start: I felt a chill breath on me. And now I was no longer lying in my bed, but sitting on it — and there, where the spectre had seemed to stand, the moonlight lay in a long streak on the floor. II The day passed after a fashion. I remember that I tried to read, to work .... it came to no- 4 PHANTOMS thing. Night arrived. JNly heart beat violently within me, as though I were expecting something. I went to bed and turned my face to the wall. "Why didst thou not come? "—an audible whisper rang out in tlie room. I glanced round swiftly. It was she again .... the mysterious phan- tom. ^Motionless eyes in a motionless face, and a gaze full of grief. "Come!" — the whisper made itself heard again. " I will come," — I replied, with involuntary terror. The phantom quietly swayed forward, and became all mixed up, undulating lightly like smoke;— and the moonlight again lay white upon the polished floor. Ill I PASSED the day in a state of agitation. At sup- per I drank almost a whole bottle of wine, and started to go out on the porch ; but returned, and flung myself on my bed. oNIy blood was surging heavily through my veins. Again a sound made itself heard. ... I shud- dered, but did not look round. Suddenly I felt some one clasp me in a close embrace from behind, and whisper in my ear: " Come, come, come!" .... Trembling with fright I groaned: " I will come! "—and straightened myself up. 5 PHANTOMS The woman stood bending over me, close beside the head of my bed. She smiled faintly and van- islied. But I had succeeded in scrutinising her face. It seemed to me that I had seen her before; — but where? when? I rose late and roamed about the fields all day long, a])])roached the old oak- tree on the border of the forest, and made an at- tentive inspection of the surroundings. Toward evening I seated myself at an open window in my stud}^ The old housekeeper set a cup of tea before me — but I did not taste it. . . . . I kept wondering and asking myself: " Am not I losing my mind? " The sun had only just set— and not only did the sky grow red, but the whole air suddenly became suffused with an almost unnatural crimson; the leaves and grass,, as though covered with fresh varnish, did not stir; in their stony immobility, in the sharp bril- lianc}^ of their outlines, in that commingling of a strong glow and death-like tranquillity, there was something strange, enigmatical. A rather large grey bird flew up without any sound, and alighted on the very edge of the window. ... I looked at it — and it looked at me askance with its round, dark eye. " I wonder if she did not send thee in order to remind me?" — I thought. The bird immediately fluttered its soft wings, and flew away, as before, without any noise. I sat for a long time still at the window, but I no longer gave myself up to wonder: I seemed to 6 PHANTOMS have got into a charmed circle, and an irresisti- ble though quiet power was drawing me on, as the onrush of the torrent draws the boat while still far away from the falls. At last I gave a start. Tlie crimson had long since disappeared from the air, the hues had darkened, and the en- chanted silence had ceased. A breeze was begin- ning to flutter about, the moon stood out with ever-increasing distinctness in the sky which was turning darkly blue, — and soon the leaves on the trees began to gleam silver and black in its cold raj'S. My old woman entered my study with a lighted candle, but the draught from the window blew on it and extinguished the flame. I could endure it no longer; I sprang to my feet, banged my cap down on my head, and set out for the cor ner of the forest, for the aged oak. IV IMany years before, this oak had been struck by lightning; its crest had been shattered and had withered away, but it still retained life enough for several centuries. As I began to draw near to it, a dark cloud floated across the moon: it was very dark under its wide-spreading boughs. At first I did not notice anything peculiar; but I glanced to one side — and my heart sank within me; a white flgure was standing motionless beside 7 PHANTOMS a tall bush, between the oak-tree and the forest. JNIy hair rose slightly on my head; but I sum- moned my courage, and advanced toward the forest. Yes, it was she, my nocturnal visitor. As I approached her, the moon shone forth again. She seemed all woven of semi-transparent, milky vapour,— through her face I could see a branch softly waving in the wind, — only her hair and eyes shone dimly-black, and on one of the fingers of her clasped hands gleamed a narrow gold ring. I halted in front of her, and tried to speak; but my voice died in my breast, although I no longer felt any real terror. Her eyes were turned upon me; their gaze expressed neither grief nor joy, but a certain lifeless attention. I waited to see whether she would utter a word ; but she stood motionless and dumb, and kept gazing at me with her deadly-intent look. Again I began to feel uneasy. " I have come!" — I exclaimed at last with an effort. My voice had a dull, queer ring. " I love thee," — a whisper became audible. " Thou lovest me! " — I repeated in amazement. " Give thyself to me," — rustled the voice again in reply to me. *' Give myself to thee! But thou art a phantom — thou hast no body." — A strange sensation over- powered me.—" What art thou,— smoke, air, va- pour? Give myself to thee! Answer me first — 8 J PHANTOMS who art thou? Hast thou lived upon earth? Whence hast thou revealed thyself? " " Give thyself to me. I will do thee no harm. Say only two words : * Take me.' '* I looked at her. " What is that she is saying? '* I thought. "What is the meaning of all this? And how will she take me? Shall I try the ex- periment?" <^ c'C/\i(s^^i<: /lit+tioo- s^i-accy^j-* " Well, very good,"— I uttered aloud, and '^f^ with unexpected force, as though some one had %^ given me a push from behind. " Take me! " ^ Before I had finislied uttering these words, the mysterious figure, with a sort of inward laugh, which made her face quiver for an instant, swayed forward, her arms separated and were out- stretched. ... I tried to spring aside ; but I was already in her power. She clasped me in her em- brace, my body rose about fourteen inches from the earth — and we both soared off, smoothly and not too swiftly, over the wet, motionless grass. At first my head reeled, and I involuntarily closed my eyes. ... A minute later, I opened them again. We were floating on as before. But the forest was no longer visi})le; beneath us lay out- spread a level plain dotted witli dark spots. With terror I convinced myself that we had risen to a fearful height. PHANTOMS " I am lost— I am in the power of Satan,"" ^ Hashed through me Hke hghtning. Up to that moment, the thought of ohsession by an unclean power, of the possibility of damnation, had not entered my head. We continued to dash head- long onward, and seemed to be soaring ever higher and higher. " Whither art thou carrying me? " — I moaned at last. " Wherever thou wishest,"— replied my fellow- traveller. She was sticking close to me all over; her face almost rested on my face. Nevertheless, I barely felt her touch. " Let me down to the earth; I feel giddy at this height." " Good ; only shut your eyes and do not take breath." I obeyed— and immediately felt myself falling, like a stone which has been hurled. . . . the wind whistled through my hair. When I came to my- self, we were again floating close above the ground, so that we caught in the tips of the tall plants. "Set me on my feet,"— I began.— "What pleasure is there in flying? I am not a bird." " I thought it would be agreeable to you. We have no other occupation." " You have not? But who are you? " There was no answer. " Thou dost not dare to tell me that? '* 10 PHANTOMS A plaintive sound, like that which had awak- ened me on the first night, trembled on my ear. In the meantime, we continued to move almost imperceptibly through the night air. " Let me go! "—I said. ^ly companion bent backward, and I found myself on my feet. She came to a halt in front of me and again clasped her hands. I recovered my equanimity and looked her in the face: as before, it expressed submissive grief. " Where are we? " — I queried. I did not rec- ognise my surroundings. " Far from thy home, but thou may est be there in one moment." " In what manner? Am I to trust myself to thee again? " " I have not done and will not do thee any liarm. We shall float together until dawn, that is all. I can carry thee whithersoever thou wishest — to all the ends of the earth. Give thyself to me; say again: ' Take me! "Well, then .... take me!" Again she fell u])on my neck, again my feet left the earth — and away we flew. VI <( Whither? "—she asked me. " Straiglit ahead, ever straight ahead." " But the forest lies in tliat direction." 11 Y V) PHANTOMS " Let us rise above the forest— only, very ^ently/^ We"^ared aloft, like wood-snipe flying upon a birch-tree, and again floated on in a straight [) line. Instead of grass, the crests of the trees flitted past under our feet. It was wonderful to see the forest from above, its bristling spine all illuminated by the moon. It seemed some sort of a vast slumbering wild beast, and accompanied us with a broad, incessant rustling, resembling an unintelligible^ growl. ; Here and there we came "aCrOss" small glades; a dentated strip of shadow stood out finely in black on one side of them. . . . . Now and then a hare cried pitifully below; up above, an owl whistled, also in plaintive wise; there was an odour of mushrooms, of buds, of lovage abroad in the air; the moonlight fairly poured in a flood in all directions — coldly and severel}'^ ; the myriad stars glittered directly above our heads. And now the forest was left behind; athwart the plain stretched a strip of mist ; a river flowed there. We floated along one of its shores, above the bushes, rendered heavy and immovable by humidity. The waves on the river now glistened with a blue gleam, now rolled on darkly and as though they were vicious. In places a thin vapour moved strangely above it, and the cups of the water-lilies shone out with the virginal and sump- tuous whiteness of al) their unfolded petals, as 12 PHAXTOMS though they knew that they were inaccessible. I took it into my head to pluck one of them— and lo! I immediately found myself directly over the smooth surface of the river. . . . The dampness struck me unpleasantly in the face as soon as I had broken the strong stem of a large blossom. We began to flit from shore to shore, like the sand-pipers, which we kept waking, and which we pursued. ]More than once it happened that we flew down upon a little family of wild ducks, disposed in a circle on a clear spot among the reeds— but they did not stir; perhaps one of them would hastily take its head out from under its wing, look and look, and then anxiously thrust its bill back again into its downy feathers; or another would quack faintly, its whole bodj^ quiv- ering the while. We frightened one heron; it rose out of a willow bush, with dangling legs, and flapped its wings with awkward vigour; it really did seem to me then to resemble a German. Not a fish splashed anywhere— tliey, too, were asleej?. I began to get used to the sensation of flying, and even found a certain pleasure in it; any one who has chanced to fly in his sleep will understand me. I took to watching with great attention tlie strange being, tliariks to whom such improbable events were happening to me. 13 (( <( PHANTOMS VII She was a woman with a small, non-Russian face. Greyish-white, semi-transparent, with barely-defined shadows, it reminded one of the figures on an alabaster vase illuminated from within— and again it seemed to be familiar to me. " May I talk with thee? "-I said. Speak." I see that thou hast a ring on thy finger; so thou hast dwelt on earth— thou hast been mar- ried? " I paused. . . . There was no reply. " What is th}^ name— or what was thy name, at least? " " Call me Elhs." " ElHs! That is an English name? Art thou an English woman? Thou hast known me be- fore?" " No." " Why didst thou reveal thyself to me in par- ticular? " " I love thee." " And art thou content? " " Yes; we are floating, we are circling, you and I, through the pure air." " Ellis! " — I said suddenly, — *' perchance thou art a guilty, a damned soul ? " 14 PHANTOMS ]My companion's head dropped. — " I do not un- derstand thee," — she whispered. " I adjure thee, in God's name . . . ."I was beginning. " What art thou saying? " — she said with sur- prise. — " I do not understand." — It seemed to me that the arm which lay about my waist hke a girdle, was moving gently. . . . " Fear not," — said Ellis, — " fear not, my dear one! " — Her face turned and moved closer to mv face. ... I felt on my lips a strange sensation, like the touch of a soft, delicate sting. . . . Leeches which are not vicious take hold in that way. VIII I GLANCED downward. We had again managed to rise to a very considerable height. We were flying over a county capital with which I was unfamiliar, situated on the slope of a broad hill. The churches reared themselves amid a dark mass of wooden roofs and fruit orchards; a long bridge lowered black at a curve in the river; everything was silent, overwhelmed with sleep. The very domes and crosses seemed to glitter with a dumb gleam; dumbly the tall poles of the wells reared tbemselves aloft beside the round clumps of wil- lows; the whitish highway dumbly plunged, like a narrow dart, into one end of the town — and 15 PHANTOMS dumbly emerged from tlie other side upon the |Tloomy expanse of the monotonous fields. " What town is that? " — I queried. " ***ofF, in the *** Government." " ***off, in the *** Government? '* 1 es. " Well, I am very far from home! " " For us distance is nothing." " Really? " Sudden boldness flashed up within me. — " Then carry me to South America! " " I cannot go to America. It is day there now," " While you and I are night birds? Well, somewhere or other, only as far off as possible." " Close thine eyes and do not draw breath," — replied Ellis, — and we dashed headlong onward with the swiftness of the whirlwind. The wind rushed into my ears with a crashing noise. We halted, but the noise did not cease. On the contrary, it had become converted into a sort of menacing roar, a thunderous din. . . . " Now thou mayest open thine eyes," — said EUis. IX I OBEYED. . . . My God, where was I ? Overhead were heavy, smoky clouds ; they were crowding together, and flying like a herd of vicious monsters .... and yonder, below, was another monster: the raging, just that, — raging 16 PHAXTOMS sea. . . . The white foam was glistening con\Til- sively, and seething in it in mounds, — and rearing aloft in shaggy billows, it was pounding with harsh thunder on the pitch-black cliffs. The howl- ing of the storm, the icy breath of the heaving deep, the heavy dashing of the surf, in which, at times, one seemed to hear something resembling howls, the distant firing of cannon, the ringing of bells, the torturing shriek, and the grinding of the pebbles on the shore, the sudden scream of an invisible gull, on the troubled horizon the reeling remains of a ship — everpvhere death, death and horror. . . . oSIy head began to reel, and swooning, I again closed my eyes. . . . " What is this? Where are we? " " On the southern shore of the Isle of Wight, in front of the Blackgang Cliff, where ships are so frequently dashed to pieces," — said Ellis, this time with peculiar distinctness and, as it seemed to me, not without malicious joy. . . . " Take me awav, awav from here. . . . home! Home! " I shrank together utterly, I clutched my face in my hands. ... I felt that we were floating still more swiftly than before; the wind no longer howled nor whistled — it shrieked through my hair, in my garments. ... I gas])ed for breath. . . . " Now stand on thy feet," — rang out the voice of Ellis. I tried to control myself, my consciousness. . . . 17 PHANTOMS I felt tlie ground under foot, but heard nothing, as though everything round about had died . ... only the blood beat irregularly in my temples, and my head still reeled with a faint, internal sound. I straightened myself up and opened my eyes. X We were on the dam of my pond. Directly in front of me, athwart the pointed leaves of the willows, its broad expanse was visible with fila- ments of feathery mist clinging to it here and there. On the right a field of rye glinted dully; on the left the trees of the garden reared them- selves aloft, long, motionless, and damp in ap- pearance. . . . ^Morning had not yet breathed upon them. Across the sky two or three clouds were stretched, obli(![uely, like wreaths of smoke; they seemed yellowish, and the first faint reflec- tion of the dawn fell on them, God knows M'hence : the eye could not yet detect on the whit- ening horizon the s])ot from which it must be bor- rowed. The stars had disappeared; nothing was stirring yet, although everything was already awake in the enchanted stillness of early morn- "The morning! Yonder is the morning!" — exclaimed Ellis in my very ear. . . . " P^arewell! until to-morrow ! " I turned. . . . Lightly quitting the ground, 18 PHANTOMS she floated past,— and suddenly raised both arms above her head. The head, and the arms, and the shoulders instantly flushed with warm, corporeal light; in the dark eyes quivered living sparks; a smile of mysterious delicacy flitted across the red- dening lips. ... A charming woman suddenly made her appearance before me. . . . But she in- stantly threw herself backward, as though falling into a swoon, and melted away like vapour. I stood motionless. When I came to my senses and looked about me, it seemed to me that the corporeal, pale-rosy flush which had coursed over the figure of my phantom had not yet vanished and, dispersed through the air, was flooding me on all sides. . . . It was the dawn flushing red. Lsuddenly became conscious of extreme fatigue and wended my way homeward. As I passed the poultry-yard I heard the first matutinal quacking of the gos- lings (no bird wakes earlier than they) ; along the roof, at the tip of each projecting stake, perched a daw; and all of them were diligently and si- lently pluming themselves, distinctly outlined against the milky sky. From time to time, they all rose into the air simultaneously and, after flying about a little while, alighted again in a I'ow, without croaking. . . . From tlie forest near at hand was wafted, twice, the hoarsely- fresh cry of the black-cock, which liad just flown up from the dewy grass all overgrown with 19 PIIAXTOINIS berries. . . . With a light sliivcr all ov^er my body, I gained my bed and speedily sank into a sound sleep. XI On the following niglit, when I began to draw near to the ancient oak, Ellis floated to meet me, as to a friend. I was not afraid of her as on the preceding day ; I was almost delighted to see her. 1 did not even attempt to understand what had happened with me: all I cared about was to fly as far as possible, through curious places. Again Ellis's arm was wound about me— and again we darted off. " Let us go to Italy,"— I whispered in her ear. " Whithersoever thou wilt, my dear one," — she replied solemnly and softly— and softly and solemnly she turned her face toward me. It seemed to me to be less transparent than on the day before; more feminine and more dignified; it reminded me of that beautiful creature who liad flashed before my vision in the dawn before our parting. " To-night is a great night,"— went on Ellis. — "It rarely comes,- only when seven times thir- teen . . . ." At this point I lost several words. " Now that can be seen which is invisible at other times," 20 PHANTOMS " Ellis! "-I pleaded,-" who art thou? Tell me! She silently raised her long, white hand. In the dark heaven, at the point to which her finger pointed, in the midst of tiny stars, a comet gleamed in a reddish streak. "How am I to understand thee?" — I began. — " Dost thou mean that thou soarest like that comet, between the planets and the sun, — that thou soarest among men .... and how?" But Ellis's hand was suddenly clapped over my eyes. . . . Something akin to the grey mist from a damp valley enveloped me. . . . " To Italy! to Italy! " — I heard her whisper. — " This night is a great night! " XII The mist disappeared from before my eyes, and I beheld beneath me an interminable plain. But I was able to understand, from the very touch of the warm, soft air on my cheeks, that I was not in Russia; and neither did tliat plain resemble our Russian plains. It was a vast, dim expanse, apparently devoid of grass and empty; here and there, throughout its entire lengtli, gleamed small stagnant pools, like tiny fragments of a mirror; far away the inaudible, motionless sea was visible Crreat stars glittered in the intervals between the large, beautiful clouds; a thousand-voiced, un- 21 PHANTOMS ceasing, yet not clamorous trill, arose in all direc- tions; and wonderful was that penetrating and dreamy rumble, that voice of the nocturnal desert. . . . " The Pontine ]Marshes,"-said Ellis.-" Dost thou hear the frogs ? Dost thou discern jheodour of sulphur? " " The Pontine Marshes . ..." I repeated, and a sensation of majestic sadness took possession of me. — " But why hast thou brought me hither, to this mournful, deserted region ? Let us rather fly to Rome." " Rome is close at hand," — replied Ellis. . . . " Prepare thyself! " We descended and dashed along the ancient Roman road. A buffalo slowly raised from the ooze his shaggy, monstrous head with short whorls of bristles between the crooked horns which curved backward. He rolled the whites of his eyes sideways, and snorted heavily with his wet nostrils, as though he scented us. " Rome, Rome is near," .... whispered Ellis.—" Look, look ahead." I raised my eyes. What was that which rose darkly against the night sky? The lofty arches of a huge bridge? What river did it span? AVhy was it rent in places ? No, it was not a bridge, it was an ancient aqueduct. Round about lay the sacred land of Campania, and yonder, far away, were the Alban 22 PHANTOMS Hills; and their crests and the great back of the ancient aqueduct gleamed faintly in the rays of the moon which had just risen. . . . We suddenly soared upward and hung sus- pended in the air before an isolated ruin. Xo one could have told what it had formerly been: a tomb, a palace, a tower. . . . Black ivy envel- oped the whole of it with its deadly power — and below, a half -ruined arch j^awned like jaws. A heavy, cellar-like odour was wafted in my face from that heap of small, closely-packed stones, from which the granite facing of the wall had long since fallen off. "Here," — said Ellis, raising her hand; — "here! — Utter loudly, thrice in succession, the name of a great Roman." " But what will happen? " " Thou shalt see." I reflected. — " Divus Cajus Julius Caesar! " — I suddenly exclaimed: — "Divus Cajus Julius Caesar! " I repeated slowly: — " Caesar! " XIII Before the last echoes of my voice had had time to die away I heard. . . . It is difficult to say preciseh' what. At first I heard a confused burst of trum])et notes and of hand-clapping, barely perceptible to the ear, but endlessly repeated. It seemed as though some- 23 PHANTOMS where, immensely far away, in some bottomless abyss, an innimierable throng were suddenly be- ginning to stir, and rise, rise, undulating and exchanging barely audible shouts, as though athwart a dream, athwart an oppressive dream many ages in duration. Then the air began to blow and darken above the ruin. . . . Shadows began to flit past me, myriads of shadows, mil- lions of outlines, now rounded like helmets, now > long like spears ; the rays of the moon were shiv- V ered into many bluish sparks on these spears and ^ ^1 helmets— and the whole of that army, that throng, ^ -^ moved nearer and nearer, grew greater, surged ^ miffhtilv. . . . An indescribable effort, a tense 9^ effort sufficient to lift the whole world, could be felt in it ; but not a single figure stood out dis- tinctly. . , . And suddenly it seemed to me as though a tremor ran through it all, as though certain huge billows had surged back and parted. .... " Csesar! Caesar venit! "—rustled voices , \ like the leaves of the forest upon which a whirl- wind has suddenly descended .... a dull shock surged along, and a pallid, stern head in a laurel wreath, with drooping lids,— the head of the em- peror,— began slowly to move forward from the ruin. . . . There are no words of mortal tongue to ex- press the dread which gripped my heart. It seemed to me that if that head were to open its eyes, to unseal its lips, I should fall dead on the 24 PHANTOMS spot. — " Ellis! "—I moaned:—"! do not wish it, I cannot, I do not want Rome, coarse, menac- ing Rome. . . . Away, away from here! " — " Pu- ^^sillanimous! " — she whispered, and we dashed headlong away. Once more I heard behind me the iron shout of the legions, like thunder now c^-^j' • • • then all grew dark. XIV " Look about thee,"— said Ellis to me,—" and calm thyself." I obeyed ; and I remember that my first impres- sion was so sweet that I could only heave a sigh. Something smoky-blue, silverj^-soft encompassed me on every side. At first I could distinguish nothing: that azure splendour blinded me. But lo! little by little the outlines of beautiful moun- tains and forests began to start forth before me; a lake lay outspread before me, with stars quiv- ering in its depths, and the caressing murmur of the surge. The fragrance of orange-blossoms enveloped me in a billow, and along with it, also in a billow, as it were, the strong, pure tones of a youthful feminine voice reached my ears. That fragrance, those sounds, fairly drew me down- ward, and I began to descend .... to descend to a luxurious marble palace, wliich gleamed white and in friendlywise amid a cypress grove, The sounds were welling forth from its wide- 25 W PHANTOMS open windows ; the waves of the lake, dotted with a (hist of liowers, phishcd against its walls— and directly opposite, all clothed in the dark-green of orange-trees and laurels, all bathed in radiant mist, all studded with statues, slender columns, and porticoes of temples, a circular island rose from the bosom of tlie lake. . . . "Isola Bella! "-said Ellis. . . . " Lago Mag- giore. . . ." I articulated only: "Ah!" and continue d to descend. The feminine voice rang out ever more loudly, ever more clearly in the palace; I was ir- resistibly drawn to it. ... I wanted to gaze into the face of the songstress who was warbling such strains on such a night. We halted in front of a window. In the middle of a room decorated in Pom- peian style, and more resembling an ancient tem- 'ple than the newest sort of a hall, surrounded by Greek statues, Etruscan vases, rare plants, precious stuffs, and lighted from above by the soft rays of two lamps enclosed in crystal globes, sat a young woman at the piano. With her head thrown slightly backward, and her eyes half- closed she was singing an Italian aria; she was singing and smiling, and, at the same time, her features were expressive of seriousness, even of severity .... a sign of complete enjoyment. She smiled .... and the Faun of Praxiteles, indolent, as young as she, effeminate, sensual 26 PHANTOMS also, seemed to be smiling at her from one corner, from behind the branches of an oleander, athwart the thin smoke which rose from a bronze per- fuming-pan upon an antique tripod. The beauty was alone. Enchanted by the sounds, the beauty, the glitter and perfume of the night, shaken to the very depths of my soul by the spectacle of that young, calm, brilliant happiness, I totally for- got my companion, forgot in what strange wise I had become a witness of that life which was so distant, so remote, so strange to me— and I wanted to step through the window, I wanted to enter into conversation. . . . My whole body quivered from a forcible blow — as though I had touched a Ley den jar. I glanced round. . . . Ellis's face was gloomy and^ menacing, despite all its transparency; wrath \ glowed dully in her eyes, which had suddenly I been opened to their full extent. . . . — "Away!"— she whispered furiously; and again there was the whirlwind and gloom and dizziness. . . . Only this time it was not the shout of the legions, but the voice of the song- stress, broken short off on a high note, which lingered in my ears. . . . We halted. A high note, that same high note, continued to ring out and did not cease to re- sound, although I felt an entirely different air, a different odour. . . . Invigorating freshness breathed upon me, as from a great river, and 27 PHANTOMS tliere was the scent of hay, of smoke, of hemp. The lono-drawn note was followed hy a second, then by a third, but with such an indubitable shad- ino\ such a familiar turn characteristic of my native land, that I immediately said to myself: " That is a Russian man singing a Russian song," — and at that moment everything round about me grew clear. XV We found ourselves above a flat shore. On the left, stretched out, losing themselves in infinity, lay mowed meadows, dotted with huge hay- stacks; on the right, to an equally unlimited ex- tent, spread out the level expanse of a vast river abounding in water. Not far from the shores huge, dark barges were rocking quietly at an- chor, slightly moving the tij^s of their masts like index-fingers. From one of these barges were wafted to me the sounds of a flowing voice, and on it burned lights, quivering and rocking in the water with their long, red reflections. Here and there both on the river and in the fields twin- kled other lights — the eye was unable to discern whether near at hand or far away; now they blinked, again they stood forth in large, radiant spots; numberless katydids shrilled ceaselessly— quite equal to the frogs on the Pontine Marshes ; and beneath the cloudless, but low-hanging, dark 28 PHAXTOMS sky invisible birds uttered their calls from time to time. " Are we in Russia? " — I asked Ellis. " This is the Volga,"— she replied. We soared along the bank. — " Why hast thou torn me thence, from that beautiful land?" — I began. — " Wert thou envious, pray? Did not jealousy awake in thee? " Ellis's hps quivered faintly, and a menace again flashed in her eyes. . . . But her whole face immediately grew rigid once more. " I want to go home," — I said. " Wait, wait," -replied EUis.- " To-night is a great night. It will not soon return. Thou mayest be the spectator. . . . Wait." And suddenly we flew across the Volga, in a slanting direction, close above the water, low and abruptly, like swallows before a storm. The broad waves gurgled heavily below us, the keen river wind beat us with its cold, strong wing .... the lofty right shore soon began to rise before us in the semi-darkness. Steep hills with great clefts made their appearance. We approached them. " Shout, ' Tow-path men to the prow! ' " Ellis whispered to me. I remembered the dread which I had experi- enced at the appearance of the Roman spectres, I felt fatigue and a certain strange anguish, as though my heart were melting within me— and 29 PHANTOMS I did not wish to utter the fateful words. I knew beforeliand tluit in reply to them something mon- strous would appear, like Freiseliiitz, in the Volga Valley. — But my li])s ])arted against my will, and I shouted in a weak, strained voice: " Tow-path men to the prow! "i^ XVI At first all remained dumb, as before the Roman ruin. — But suddenly close to my very ear, a coarse bark-hauler's " laugh rang out, and some- thing fell with a bang into the water and began to choke, ... I glanced round : no one was any- where to be seen, but an echo rebounded from the shore, and instantly and from all quarters a deafening uproar arose. What was there not in that chaos of sounds! Shouts and whines; vio- lent swearing and laughter, laughter most of all ; strokes of oars and of axes ; the crash as of break- ing in doors and chests; the creaking of rigging and wheels, and the galloping of horses; the sound of alarm-bells and the clanking of chains; the rumble and roar of conflagrations, drunken songs and interchange of hurried speech; incon- solable, despairing weeping, and imperious ex- ^ According to tradition, this was the war-cry of the Volga bri;j;^aiuls when they captured vessels. —Tn a ksi.ator. 2 Before the introduction of steamers on the Volga, all vessels were hauled up-stream from Astrakhan to Nizhni-Novgorod— or even fur- ther—by men walking along the tow-paths on the shore. — Thanslator. 30 PHANTOMS clamations; the death-rattle, and audacious whis- thng; the yelhng and tramphng of the dance. . . . "Beat! Hang! Drown! Cut his throat ! That's fine! That 's fine! So! Show no pity! "—were distinctly audible; even the broken breathing of panting men was audible; — and nevertheless, evervwhere round about, as far as the eve could see, nothing came into sight, nothing underwent any change. The river flowed past mysteriously, almost morosely; the very shore seemed more de- serted and wild than before — that was all. I turned to Ellis, but she laid her finger on her lips. . . . " Stepan Timofeitch! Stepan Timofeitch is] coming! " — arose a rustling round about; — " our dear little father is coming, our ataman, our nourisher! " — As before, I saw no one, but it suddenly seemed to me as though a huge body were moving straight at me. ..." Frolka! Where art thou, dog?" — thundered a terrible voice. — " Set fire on all sides — and put them under the axe, my little White-hands! " ^ The heat of a flame close at hand breathed u})on me, and the bitter reek of smoke, — and at the same moment something warm, like blood, spattered upon my face and hands. . . . Wild laughter roared round about. . . . •The bandit chief, generally known in history as Stenka Rdzin and I'rol or Frrtlka, his younjfcr brother and inseparable companion, captured and laid waste jfrcat stretches of the N'oljja. 'I'lieir mem- ory still lives in epic~Ballads and among the peasants. —Tuansi^vtok. 81 •^ PITAXTOIMS I lost consciousness, and when I recovered my senses, Kllis and I were slippin^T^ along the famil- iar verge of my forest, straight toward the old oak-tree. . . . " Seest thou yonder path? " — Ellis said to me, — " yonder where the moon is shining dimly and two small hirch-trees are hending over? . . . Dost thou wish to go thither? " But I felt so shattered and exhausted, that in reply I could say only : — " Home. . . . home! " . . . . " Thou art at home," — answered Ellis. In fact, I was standing in front of the door of my house — alone. P211is had vanished. The watch-dog was about to approach, glared suspi- ciously at me — and fled howling. With difficulty I dragged myself to my bed, and fell asleep, without undressing. XVII On the following morning I had a headache, and could hardly move my feet; but I paid no atten- tion to my bodily indisposition. I was gnawed by penitence, stifled with vexation. I was extremely displeased with myself. " Pu- sillanimous! " — I kept repeatirilg incessantly: — " Yes-Ellis is right. What did I fear? How could I fail to profit by the opportunity? .... I might have beheld Caesar himself— and I swooned with terror, I squealed, I turned away, 32 PHAXTOMS like a child from the rod. Well, Razin — that is quite a different matter. In my quality of noble- man and land-owner .... However, what was the actual cause of my fright in that case also? Pusillanimous, pusillanimous!" .... " But is it not in a dream that I am seeing all this?" — I asked myself at last. I called my housekeeper. " ]SIarfa, at what time did I go to bed last night? — dost thou remember? " " Why, who knows, my benefactor. . . . Late, I think. In the gloaming thou didst leave the house; and thou were clattering thy heels in thy bedroom after michiight. Just before dawn — yes. And this is the third day it has been like that. Evidently, something has happened to worry thee." "Ehe-he!" — I thought. — "There can be no doubt as to the flying." — " Well, and how do I look to-day? " — I added aloud. " How dost thou look? Let me look at thee. Thy cheeks are somewhat sunken. And thou art pale, my nourisher; there now, there is n't a drop of })l()od in thy face." I winced slightly. ... I dismissed Marfa. "If thdu goest on like this thou wilt surely die or lose thy mind," — I reasoned, as I sat meditat- ing by the window. " I must abandon all this. It is dangerous. And, here now, how strangely my heart is beating! iVnd when I am flying, it 88 PHANTOMS constantly seems to me as tlioiigh some one were sucking it, or as though something were seeping out of it — like the spring sap from a hirch, if you thrust an axe into it. And yet I feel sorry. And there is Ellis. . . . She is playing with me as a cat plays with a mouse .... but it is unlikely that she wishes anj'' evil to me. I '11 surrender myself to her for the last time— I '11 gaze my fill — and then. . . . But what if she is drinking my blood? This is terrible. Moreover, such swift motion cannot fail to be injurious; they say that on the railways in England it is forbidden to go more than one hundred and twenty versts an hour. . . ." Thus did I meditate— but at ten o'clock in the evening I was already standing before the aged oak. XVIII The night was cold, dim, and grey; there was a scent of rain in the air. To my surprise, I found no one under the oak; I made the circuit of it several times, walked as far as the verge of the forest, and returned, staring assiduously into the darkness. . . . Everything was deserted. I waited a while, then uttered Ellis's name several times in succession, with ever-increasing loud- ness .... but she did not show herself. I was seized with sadness, almost with anguish ; my f or- U PHANTOMS mer apprehensions vanished ; I could not reconcile myself to the thought that my companion would never return to me. "Ellis! Elhs! Do come! Wilt thou not come? " — I shouted for the last time. A crow which had been awakened by my voice suddenly began to fidget about in the crest of a neighbouring tree, and becoming entangled in the branches, set to flapping its wings. . . . But Ellis did not appear. With drooping head I wended my way home- ward. Ahead of me the willows on the dam stood out in a black mass, and the light in the window of my room twinkled among the apple-trees of the garden, — twinkled and vanished, like the eye of a man watching me, — when suddenly the faint swish of swiftly-cloven air became audible be- hind me, and something with one swoop embraced and seized hold of me from below upward : that is the way a buzzard seizes, " smashes " a quail. . . . It was Ellis who had flown u])on me. I felt her cheek on my cheek, the girdle of her arms aroimd my body— and like a keen chill the whisper of her mouth pierced m}^ ear: " Here am I! " I was si- multaneously alarmed and deliglited. . . . We floated off* not far above the ground. "Thou (hdst not mean to come to-day?" — I said. " But thou didst langiiisli for me! Thou lovest me? Oh, thou art mine! " ' 85 PHANTOMS Ellis's last words disconcerted me. ... I did not know what to say. " I was detained," — she went on; — " they setj|. guard over me." " Who could detain thee? " " Whither dost thou wish to go? " — queried Ellis, not replying to my question, as usual. " Carry me to Italy, to that lake— dost thou rememher? " Ellis drew hack a little and shook her head in negation. Then for the first time did I perceive that she had ceased to be transparent. And her face seemed to have grown rosy; a crimson flush spread over its cloudy whiteness. I looked into her eyes .... and dread came upon me: in those eyes something was moving — with the slow, unceasing and vicious motion of a serpent which has coiled itself and, congealed in that position, is beginning to grow warm in the sunshine. " Ellis! "-I exclaimed:— "Who art thou? Tell me, who art thou? " Ellis merely shrugged her shoulders. I w^s vexed. ... I wanted to punish her; — and suddenly it occurred to me to order her to carry me to Paris. " That 's where thou wilt have occasion for jealousy,"— I thought. — " Ellis! " — I said aloud;—" thou art not afraid of large cities, Paris, for example, art thou? " " No." 36 PHANTOMS " No ? Xot even of those places where it is bright, as on the boulevards? " " That is not the liffht of day." " Very good ; then carry me immediately to the Boulevard des Italiens." Ellis threw over my head the end of her long, flowing sleeve. I was immediately enveloped in a sort of M'hite mist, with a soporific scent of poppies. Everything disappeared instantane- ously; all light, all sound — and almost conscious- ness itself. The sensation of life alone remained — and it was not unpleasant. Suddenly the mist vanished; Ellis had removed her sleeve from my head, and I beheld before me a huge mass of buildings crowded together, brilliancy, move- ment, din. . . . I beheld Paris, i be/ic o f^/atAC^^ XIX /^ Maf I HAD been in Paris before, and therefore imme- diately recognised the spot to which Ellis had shaped her course. It was the garden of tlie Tuileries, with its aged chestnut-trees, iron fences, fortress-moat, and beast-like Zouaves on guard. Passing the palace, passing the Church of St. Rocli, on whose steps the first Napoleon shed French blood for the first time, we lialted high above the Boulevard des Itahens, where the third Napoleon did the same thing, and with ecjual succes'S. Crowds of people — young and old 37 PHANTOMS dandies, workmen, women in sumptuous attire — were thronging the sidewalks; the gilded restau- rants and cafes were blazing with lights, car- riages of all sorts and aspects were driving up and down the boulevard; everything was fairly seething and glittering, in every direction, where- ever the eye fell. . . . But, strange to say, I did not feel like quitting my pure, dark, airy height; I did not wish to approach that human ant-hill. It seemed as though a hot, oppressive, copper- coloured exhalation rose up thence, not precisely fragrant, nor yet precisely stinking; a very great deal of life had been collected there in one heap. I wavered. . . . But now the voice of a street- courtesan, sharp as the screech of iron rails, sud- denly was wafted to my ear; like a naked blade it thrust itself out upward, that voice; it stung me like the fangs of a viper. I immediately pic- tured to myself the stony, greedy, flat Parisian face, with high cheek-bones, the eyes of a usurer, rouge, powder, curled hair, and a bouquet of bright-hued artificial flowers on the high-peaked hat, the scraped nails in the shape of claws, the monstrous crinoline. ... I pictured to myself also a steppe-dweller like myself pursuing the venal doll with detestable tripping gait. ... I pictured to myself how, confused to the point of rudeness, and lisping with his efforts, he en- deavours to imitate in his manners the waiters at Vefour's, squeals, keeps on the alert, wheedles— 38 PHANTOMS and a feeling of loathing took possession of me. . . . . " Xo," — I thought, — " Ellis will have no occasion to feel jealous here. . . ." In the meantime, I noticed that we were begin- ning gradually to descend. . . . Paris rose to meet us with all its din and reek. . . . " Halt! "—I turned to Ellis. — " Dost thou not find it stifling here, oppressive? " " It was thou thyself who asked me to bring thee hither." " I was wrong, I recall my w^ord. Carry me away, Ellis, I entreat thee. Just as I thought: yonder goes Prince Kulmametoff , hobbling along the boulevard ; and his friend Baraksin is waving his hand at him and crying: ' Ivan Stepanitch, allons soupcr, as quickly as possible, and engage Rigolbosch itself!' Carry me away from these ^labilles and ^Maisons Dores, away from fops, both male and female, from the Jockej^ Club and Figaro, from the closely-clipped soldiers' heads and the jiolished barracks, from the serpents de ville with their goatees and the glasses of turbid absinthe, from the players of domino in the cafes and the gamblers on 'Cliange, from the bits of red ribbon in tlie buttonhole of the coat and the buttonhole of the overcoat, from Monsieur de Foi, the inventor of ' the speciality of wed- dings,' and from tlie free consultations of Dr. Cliarlcs Albert, from liberal lectures and "overn- mental pamphlets, from Parisian comedies and .•39 rilxVNTOMS Parisian operas and Parisian ignorance. . . . Away! Away! Away!" "Look down,"— Ellis answered me: — "thou art no longer over Paris." I lowered my eyes. ... It was a fact. A dark })lain, here and there intersected by whitish lines of roads, was running swiftly past beneath us, and only behind, on the horizon, like the glow of a huge conflagration, the reflection of the in- numerable lights of the world's capital throbbed upward. XX Again a veil fell across my eyes. . . . Again I lost consciousness. It dispersed at last. What was that yonder, below? What park was that with avenues of clipped lindens, isolated spruce-trees in the form of parasols, with porti- coes and temples in the Pompadour taste, and statues of nymphs and satyrs of the Bernini school, and rococo Tritons in the centre of curv- ing ponds, rimmed by low balustrades of black- ened marble? Is it not Versailles? No, it is not Versailles. A small palace, also in rococo style, peers forth from clumps of curly oak-trees. The moon shines dimly, enveloped in a haze, and an extremely delicate smoke seems to be spread over the earth. The eye cannot distinguish what it is : moonlight or fog. Yonder on one of the ponds 40 PHAXTOMS a swan is sleeping; its long back gleams white, like the snow of the steppes gripped by the frost, and yonder the glow-worms are burning like dia- monds in the bluish shadow at the foot of the statues. " We are close to Mannheim,"— said Ellis. — ■" That is the Schwetzingen Park." " So we are in German}',"— I thought, and be- gan to listen. Everything was dumb; only somewhere a slender stream of falling water was plashing and babbling, isolated and invisible. It seemed to be repeating the same words over and over again: " Yes, yes, yes," always " yes." And suddenly it seemed to me as though in the very middle of one of the avenues, between the walls of shorn greenery, affectedly offering his arm to a lady in T)owdered coiffure and a gay-coloured farthingale, there stepped forth on his red heels a cavalier in a golden coat and lace cuffs, with a light, steel sword on his hip. . . . They were strange, pale figures. ... I wanted to get a look at tliem. . . . But everything had van- ished, and only the water babbled on as before. " Those are dreams roaming abroad," — whis- ])ered Elhs. — " Yesterday a great deal might liave been seen — a great deal. To-day even dreams shun the eye of mortal man. On! On! " We soared upward and flew further. So smooth and even was our flight that we did not seem to be moving, but everj'thing, on the con- 41 PHANTOMS trary, appeared to be coming toward us. Moun- tains made their appearance, dark, undulating, covered with forests; they augmented and floated toward us. . . . Now they are already flowing past beneath us, with all their sinuosities, ravines, narrow meadows, with the flery points in the slumbering villages along the swift rivers at the bottom of the valleys ; and ahead of us again other mountains loom up and float past. . . . We are in the heart of the Schwarzwald. JNIountains, nothing but mountains .... and forest, the splendid, old, mighty forest. The night sky is clear; I can recognise every variety of tree; especially magnificent are the firs with their straight, white trunks. Here and there on the borders of the forests chamois are to be seen ; stately and alert they stand on their slender legs and listen, with their heads finely turned, and their large, trumpet-shaped ears pricked up. The ruin of a tow^er sadly and blindly displays on a peak of naked crag its half -demolished battle- ments; above the ancient, forgotten stones a golden star glows peacefully. Froin a small, al- most black lake, the moaning croak of tiny frogs rises up like a wail. I seem to hear other sounds, long, languid, like the sounds of a golden harp. .... Here it is, the land of legend ! That same deli- cate shimmer of moonlight which had impressed me at Schwetzingen is here disseminated every- where, and the further the mountains stand apart 42 PHAXTOMS the thicker does that smoke become. I distinguish five, six, ten, different tones of the different layers of shadow on the slopes of the mountains, and over the silent diversity pensively reigns the moon. The air ripples on softly and lightly. I feel at ease and in a mood of lofty composure and melancholy as it were " Ellis, thou must love this land! " " I love nothing.." " How is that? And how about me? " " Yes .... thee! " — she replies indifferently. It strikes me that her arm clasps my waist more closely than before. "On! On!"— says Ellis, with a sort of cold enthusiasm. " On! "-I repeat. XXI A MIGHTY fluctuating, ringing cry suddenly re- sounded overhead and was immediately repeated a little way in advance. " Those are belated cranes flying to your land, to tlie north,"— said Ellis: — " wouldst thou like to join them? " " Yes, yes! raise me to them." We soared upward and in the twinkling of an eye found ourselves alongside of the flock which had flown past. The huge, handsome birds (there were thirty id PHANTOMS of tlicin in all) were flying in a wedge form ab- ruptly and rarely flapping their inflated wings. AVith head and legs intently ahead and breast thrust sternly forward, they were forging on- ward, and that so swiftly that the air whistled around them. It was wonderful to see such hot, strong life, such unflinching will, at such a height, at such a distance from all living things. With- out ceasing triumpliantl}'^ to plough their way througli s])ace the cranes exchanged calls, from time to time, with their conu'ades in the van- guard, with their leader; and there was something proud, dignified, something invincibly confident in those loud cries, in the conversation under the clouds. " We shall fly to our goal, never fear, however difficult it may be," they seemed to be saying, encouraging one another. And at this point it occurred to me that there are very few people in Russia — why do I say in Russia? — in the whole world — like those birds. " We are now flying to Russia,"— said Ellis. This was not the first time I had noticed that she almost always knew what I was thinking about. — " Dost thou wish to return? " " Let us return .... or, no! I have been in Paris; take me to Petersburg." "Now?" ^ ' " This instant. . . . Only cover my head with thy veil or I shall become dizzy." 44 PHAXTOMS Ellis raised her arm .... but before the mist enveloped me I felt on my lips the touch of that soft,, dull sting. . . . XXII " At-te-e-e-e-ention ! " — a prolonged cry re- sounded in my ears. " At-te-e-e-e-ention! " came the response, as though in despair, from the dis- tance. "At-te-e-e-e-ention!" died away some- where at the end of the world. I started. A lofty golden spire met my eye : I recognised the Peter- Paul Fortress. A pale, northern night! Yes, but was it night? "Was it not a pale, ailing day? I have never liked the Petersburg nights; but this time I was even terrified: Ellis's form disappeared entirely, melted like the mist of morning in the July sun, and I clearly descried her whole body as it hung heavily and alone on a level with the Alexander column. So tliis was Petersburg! Yes, it reallj'' was. Those broad, empty, grey streets; those greyish-white, yellowish-grey, greyisli-lilac, stuc- coed and peeling houses with their sunken win? dows, brilliant sign-boards, iron pavilions over their porclies, and nasty little vegetable-shops; those fa(,'ades; those inscriptions, sentry-boxes, watering-troughs; the golden caj) of St. Isaac's Cathedral; tlie useless, motley Exchange; the granite walls of the fortress and the broken 4.5 PHANTOMS wooden pavement ; those barks laden with hay and firewood ; that odour of dust, cabbage, bast-mat- ting and stables; those petrified yard-porters in sheepskin coats at the gates, those cab-drivers curled up in death-like sleep on their rickety carriages, — yes, it was she, our Northern Pal- myra. Everything was visible round about; everything was clear, painfully clear and distinct; everything was sleeping mournfully, strangely heaped up and outlined in the dimly-transparent air. The glow of sunset — a consumptive glow — has not yet departed, and will not depart until morning from the white, starless sk)\ It lies on the silky surface of the Neva, and the river barely murmurs and barely undulates as it hastens on' ward its cold, blue waters. . . . " Let us fly away," — pleaded Ellis. And, without awaiting my answer, she bore me across the Neva, across the Palace Square, to the Liteinaya. Footsteps and voices were audible be- low : along the street a cluster of young men were walking with drink-sodden faces and discussing dancing-classes. " Sub-lieutenant StolpakofF the seventh! " suddenly cried out in his sleep a soldier, who was standing on guard at the pyramid of rust}'^ cannon-balls,^ and a little further on, at the open window of a tall house I caught sight of a young girl in a crumpled silk gown without sleeves, with a pearl net on her hair and a ciga- * At the Artillery Barracks. — Translator. 46 i PHANTOMS rette in her mouth. She was devoutly perusirg a book: it was the work of one of the most recent Juvenals. " Let us fly on! "—I said to ElHs. A minute more, and the httle forests of decay r, ing spruce-trees and mossy swamps which sur- round Petersburg were flitting past us. We directed our course straight for the south ; sky and earth gradually grew darker and darker. The diseased night, the diseased day, the diseased city — all were left behind. XXIII We flew more slowly than usual, and I was able to watch how the broad expanse of my native land unrolled before me like a series of interminable panoramas. Forests, bushes, fields, ravines, riv- ers — now and then villages and churches — and then again fields, and forests, and bushes, and ra- vines. ... I grew melancholy, — and melancholy in an indiff'erent sort of way, somehow. And I was not melancholy and bored because we were flying over Russia in particular. Xo! The land itself, that flat surface which spread out beneath me; the whole earthly globe with its inhabitants, transitory, imi)otent, ciiished by want, by sorrow, by diseases, fettered to a clod of contem])tible earth; that rough, brittle crust, that excrescence on the fiery grain of sand of our planet, on which 47 PHANTOMS has broken out a mould dignified by us with the appelhition of the organic, vegetable kingdom; those men-flies, a thousand times more insignifi- cant than flies; their huts stuck together out of mud, the tiny traces of their petty, monotonous })other, their amusing struggles with the un- changeable and the inevitable, — how loathsome all this suddenly became to me ! My heart slowly grew nauseated, and I did not wish to gaze any longer at those insignificant pictures, at that stale exhibition. . . Yes, I felt bored — worse than bored. I did not even feel compassion for my fellow- men : all emotions within me were drowned in one which I hardly venture to name: in a feeling of aversion; and that aversion was strongest of all and most of all toward myself. " Stop,"— Avhispered Ellis:—" Stop, or I will not carry thee. Thou art becoming heavy." " Go home." — I replied in the same sort of a tone with which I was accustomed to utter those words to my coachman on emerging, at four o'clock in the morning, from the houses of my Moscow friends with whom I had been discussing the future of Russia and the significance of the commune ever since dinner. — " Go home," — I re- peated, and closed my eyes. 48 PHANTOMS XXIV But I speedily opened them again. Ellis was pressing against me in a strange sort of way ; she was almost pushing me. I looked at her, and the blood curdled in my veins. Any one who has; chanced to behold on the face of another a sudden expression of profound terror the cause of which he does not suspect, will understand me. Terror, harassing terror, contorted, distorted the pale, almost obliterated features of Ellis. I have never beheld anything like it even on a living human face. A hfeless, shadowy phantom, a shadow and that swooning terror .... " Ellis, what ails thee? "—I said at last. " 'T is she . . . . 't is she " she replied with an effort; — " 't is she! " "She? Who is she?" " Do not name her, do not name her," — hur- riedly stammered Ellis. — " We must flee, or there will be an end to all— and forever. . . . Look: yonder! " T turned my head in the direction which she in- dicated to me with trcmbhng hand, — and saw something .... something really frightful. This something was all the more frightful be- cause it had no definite form. Something hea\y, gloomy, yellowish-black in hue, mottled like the belly of a lizard, — not a storm-cloud, and not 49 PHANTOMS smoke,— was moving over the earth with a slow, serpentine motion. A measured, wide-reaching unduhition downward and upward, — an undu- hition which reminded one of the ominous sweep of the wings of a hird of prey, when it is in search of its booty; at times an inexpressibly re- volting swooping down to the earth, — that is the" way a spider swoops down to the captured fly. .... Who art thou, what art thou, threatening mass? Under its influence — I saw it, I felt it — everything was annihilated, everything grew dumb. ... A rotten, pestilential odour emanated from it — and a chill that caused the heart to grow sick, and made things grow dark before the eyes, and the hair to stand on end. It was a power which was advancing; — the power which cannot be resisted, to which all are subject, which, with- out sight, without form, without thought, sees everything, knows everything, and like a bird of prey chooses out its victims, like a serpent crushes them and licks them with its chilly sting.~. . .' " Ellis! Ellis! "—I shrieked like a madman.— " That is Death! Death itself! " The wailing sound which I had already heard, burst from Ellis's mouth— this time it bore more resemblance to a despairing, human scream — and we dashed away. But our flight was strange and frightfully uneven; Ellis kept turning somer- saults in the air; she fell downward, she threw herself from side to side, like a partridge which 50 PHAXTOMS is mortally wounded, or which is desirous of lur- ing the hound away from her brood. And yet, long, wavy offshoots, separating themselves from the inexpressibly-dreadful mass, rolled after us, like outstretched arms, like claws. . . . The huge form of a muffled figure on a pale horse rose up for one moment, and soared up to the very sk3\ . . . . Still more agitatedly, still more despair- ingly did Ellis throw herself about. " She has seen me! All is over! I am lost!" .... her broken whisper became audible. " Oh, unhappy one that I am! I might have enjoyed, I might have acquired life .... but now .... Anni- hilation, annihilation ! " This was too unbearable. ... I lost conscious- ness. XXV When I came to myself I was lying prone upon the grass, and felt a dull pain all through my body, as though from a severe injury. Dawn was breaking in the sky: I was able to distinguish objects clearly. Xot far away, along the edge of a birch-coppice, ran a road fringed with wil- lows; the surroundings seemed familiar to me. I began to recall what had happened to me, — and I shuddered all over, as soon as the last, mon- strous vision recurred to my mind. . . . 51 PITAXTOMS "But of what was Ellis afraid?" I thought. " Can it be possible that she also is subject to its power? Can it be that she is not immortal? Can it be that she is doomed to annihilation, to de- struction? How is that possible? " A soft moan resounded close at hand. I turned my head. Two paces distant from me lay, out- stretched and motionless, a young woman in a white gown, with dishevelled hair and bared shoul- ders. One arm was thrown up over her head, the other fell upon her breast. Her eyes were closed, and a light crimson foam had burst forth upon the closely-compressed lips. Could that be Ellis? But Ellis was a phantom, while I beheld before me a living woman. I approached her, bent over. . . . "Ellis? Is it thou?"-I exclaimed. Sud- denly, with a slow quiver, the broad eyelids were lifted; dark, piercing eyes bored into me — and at that same moment the lips also clung to me, i warm, moist, w^ith a scent of blood .... the soft arms wound themselves tightly round my neck, the full, burning bosom was pressed convulsively to mine. — "Farewell! Farewell forever!" — a dying voice articulated distinctly, — and every- thing vanished. I rose to my feet staggering like one intox- icated, and passing my hands several times across my face, I gazed attentively about me. I was close to the *** highway, a couple of versts from 52 PHAXTOMS mv manor-house. The sun had ah-eadv risen when I reached home. All the following nights I waited— and not without terror, I admit— for the appearance of my phantom; but it did not visit me again. I even went one day, in the twilight, to the old oak- tree; but nothing unusual occurred there either. I did not grieve overmuch, however, at the ces- sation of the strange friendship. I pondered much and long over this incomprehensible, almost inexplicable affair- and I became con\'inced that not only is science unable to elucidate it, but that even in the fairy-tales, the legends, there is no- thing of the sort to be encountered. What was Ellis, as a matter of fact? A vision, a wandering soul, an evil spirit, a sylph, a vampire? Some- times it seemed to me once more that Ellis was a A\oman whom I had formerly known, and I made strenuous efforts to recall wliere I had seen her. . . . . There now, there, — it sometimes seemed to me,— I shall recall it directly, in another mo- ment. . . . In vain! again ever ji:hing deliquesced like a dream. Yes, I pondered a great deal, and as was to be expected, I arrived at no conclusion. I could not make up my mind to ask the advice or opinion of otlier people, for I was afraid of gaining the reputation of a madman. At last T have cast aside all my surmises: to tell the truth, I am in no mood for them. On the one hand, the PHANTOMS Emancipation has taken place, with its division of arable land, and so forth, and so on; on the other hand, my liealth has failed; my chest lias begun to pain me, 1 am subject to insomnia, and have a cough. jNIy whole body is withering away. Mj" face is yellow as that of a corpse. The doc- tor declares that I have very little blood, and calls my malady by a Greek name — " anjemia " — and has ordered me to Gastein. But the Arbiter of the Peace ^ fears that he " will not be able to deal with " the peasants without me. . . . So you see how matters stand ! But what signify those keen, piercingly-clear sounds, — the sounds of a harmonica, — which J[ hear as soon as peoj)le begin to talk to me a])out any one's death ? They grow ever louder and more piercing. . . . And why do I shudder in such torturing anguish at the mere thought of anni- hilation ? 1 An official who was appointed after the Emancipation to arbi- trate differences of opinion as to the division of the land between the landed proprietors and the serfs.— Translator. -U yAkoff pasynkoff (1855) yAkoff pAsynkoff IT happened in Petersburg, in winter, on the first day of the carnival-week. I had been in- vited to dine by one of my boarding-school com- rades, who had borne the reputation in his youth of being a pretty girl, and had later on turned out a man who was not in the least bashful. He is dead now, like the majority of my comrades. In addition to myself, Konstantin Alexandro- vitch Asanoff , and a literary celebrity of the day had promised to come to dinner. The literary celebrity kept us waiting for him, and at last sent word that he would not come, but in his stead a small, fair-haired gentleman presented himself, — one of those everlasting unbidden guests in which Petersburg abounds. The dinner lasted a long time; the host did not spare his wine, and our heads gradually got heated. Kverytliing that each one of us had con- cealed in liis soul — and who has not sometliing concealed in his soul? — came out. The host's face suddenly lost its modest and reserv^ed ex- 57 YAKOFF rxVSYNKOFF pressioii ; his eyes began to glitter insolently, and an insipid grin distorted his lips; the fair-haired gentleman began to laugh in a pitiful sort of way, with a stupid wliine; but Asanoff surprised me most of all. That man had always been distin- guished for a sense of decorum ; but on this occa- sion he suddenly began to pass his hand across his brow, to put on airs, and to brag of his power- ful connections, incessantly making mention of some uncle of his, a very influential man. ... I decidedly failed to recognise him; he was openly jeering at us ... . he almost expressed his con- tempt for our society. AsanofF's insolence en- raged me. " See here," — I said to him: — " if we are so in- significant in your eyes, march off to your influ- ential uncle. But perhaps he does not admit you to his presence? " Asanoff" made me no reply, and continued to draw his hand across his brow. " And what sort of folks are these! " — he said again. — " AVhy, they never go in any decent so- ciety, they are n't acquainted with a single well- bred woman, while I," — he exclaimed, drawing from his side-pocket a wallet, and banging the table with it, — " have here a whole bunch of letters from a young girl whose like you will not find in all the world! " The host and the fair-haired gentleman paid no heed to Asanoff*'s last words; they were clutch- ing each other by the button,— and both of them 58 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF were narrating some story ; but I pricked up my ears. " Well, you are bragging in good sooth, i\Ir. Xephew of an important personage!" — I said, moving closer to AsanofF: — " you have n't any letters, whatsoever." " You think so? " — he retorted, glancing loftily down upon me. — "What 's this, then?" — He opened the wallet, and showed me about half a score of letters addressed to him. ..." The handwriting is familiar! " — I thought. . . . I feel the flush of shame start out on my cheeks . . . . my self-love suffers acuteh\ . . . AVhat possesses me to confess so ignoble a deed? .... But there is no help for it. I knew when I began mv tale that I should be forced to blush to the very ears. So, then, summoning up all mj^ forces, I am bound to confess that .... Here is the point: I took advantage of Asa- noff's tipsy condition, and when he carelessly flung the letters on the table-cloth, which was drenched with champagne (my own head was Ijuzzing pretty hard, too), I swiftly ran my eye over one of the letters. . . . My heart sank within me. . . . Alas ! I myself was in love with the young girl who had been writing to Asiinofl", and now I could no longer clierish any doul)t tliat she loved him. The whole letter, which was written in French, breatlicd forth tenderness, devotion. . . . "Man chcr ami Consiantin! " — tliat was tlie 59 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF way it began .... and it wound up with the words: " be cautious, as of 3'ore, and I will be yours or no one's." Stunned, as though by a claj) of thunder, I sat motionless for a few moments, but recovered my- self at last, sprang to my feet, and rushed from the room. . . . A quarter of an hour later I was in my own lodgings. The Zlotnitzky family was one of the first with which I had become acquainted after my removal from iSIoscow to Petersburg. It consisted of fa- ther, mother, two daughters, and a son. The father, already a grey-haired but still fresh man, formerly in the army, occuj^ied a rather impor- tant post, spent the morning at his service, slept after dinner, and in the evening played cards at the club. . . . lie was rarely at home, he con- versed little and reluctantly, gazed askance from under his brows in a manner which was not pre- cisely surly nor yet j^i'^cisely indifferent, and never read anything except books of travel and geographies, and when he was ill he coloured pic- tures, having locked himself in his study, or teased the old gre}^ parrot Popka. His wife, an ailing and consumptive woman, with sunken black eyes and a sharp nose, never quitted her couch for days together, and was always embroidering cush- ions on canvas; so far as I was able to observe, 60 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF she was afraid of her husband, exactly as though she were culpable toward him in some wa3^ The eldest daughter, Varvara, a plump, rosy, chest- nut-haired girl, eighteen years of age, was per- jDetually sitting at the window and scrutinising the passers-by. The son was being educated in a government institution, made his appearance at home only on Sunday, and was not fond of wast- ing words for nothing either; even the younger daughter, Sofya, the young girl with whom I fell in love, was of a taciturn disposition. Si- lence always reigned in the Zlotnitzkj's' house; only Popka's piercing screams broke it; but visi- tors speedily became accustomed to it, and again felt the burden and oppression of that eternal silence weighing upon them. However, visitors rarelv looked in at the Zlotnitzkvs' : it was tire- some there. The very furniture, the red wall- paper, with yellowish jiatterns, in the drawing- room; tlie multitude of chairs, with plaited seats, in the dining-room; the faded worsted pillows, with representations of young girls and dogs, on the divans; the horned lamps and gloomy por- traits, on the walls — all ins])ired an involuntary melancholy, all emitted a cold, sour sort of atmos- phere. On reaching Petersburg, I had regarded it as my duty to call upon the Zlotnitzkvs: tliey were distantly related to my mother. ^Vith dif- ficulty did T sit out the hour, and for a long time I did not return; but gradually 1 took to going Gl YAKOFF PASYNKOFF more and more frequently. I was attracted by Sofya, whom I had not liked at first, and with whom I idtimately fell in love. She was a p^irl of short stature, almost gaunt, with a ])ale face, thick, black hair, and large, brown eyes, which were always half-closed. Her features, which were regular and sharp-set, espe- cially her tightly-compressed lips, expressed firmness and force of will. At home she was called a girl with character. ..." She resembles her eldest sister, Katerina," — said Madame Zlot- nitzky one day, when she was sitting alone with me (she never ventured to refer to that Katerina in her husband's presence). — " You do not know her; she is in the Caucasus, married. At the age of thirteen, — just imagine it! — she fell in love with the man who is now her husband, and then announced to us that she would marrj' no one else. Do what we would, — nothing was of any avail ! She waited until she was twenty-three, en- raged her father, — and married her idol all the same. It would be the easiest thing in the world for a catastrophe to happen with Sonetchka also! ]May the Lord preserve her from such stubborn- ness! But I 'm apprehensive for her; she is only sixteen, but already it is imj)OSsible to control her. . . ." INIr. Zlotnitzky entered; his wife immediately fell silent. StrictW speaking, Sofya did not attract me by 62 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF her force of will— no; but, with all her dryness, and lack of animation and imagination, she pos- sessed the charm of straightforwardness, honour- able sincerity, and spiritual purity. I respected her as much as I loved her. ... It seemed to me that she was well-inclined toward me ; it was pain- ful to me to be undeceived as to her attachment, to become convinced of her love for another. The unexpected discovery which I had made astounded me all the more, because Mr. AsanofF visited the Zlotnitzkys' house infrequently, much more rarely than I did, and showed no particular preference for Sofya. He was a handsome, dark- complexioned man, with exi)ressive, although rather heavy features, prominent, brilliant eyes, a large, white brow, and plump, red little lips be- neath a delicate moustache. He bore himself very modestly, but rigorously, talked and pronounced judgment with self-confidence, and held his peace with dignity. It was obvious that he thought a great deal of himself. AsanofF laughed rarely, and that through his teeth, and he never danced. He was very badly built. He had once served in the *** regiment, and had borne the reputa- tion of an active officer. " Strange! " — I reflected, as I lay on my divan: — " why have I not noticed anything of this? " The words of Sofya's letter suddenly recurred to my mind.— "Ah!"— I thought:— " that 's it! W'liat a crafty little girl! And I had thought 03 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF her frank and sincere. . . . Well, just wait, and I 11 sliow you! . . . ." But at this point, so far as I can recall the circumstances, I fell to weeping bitterly, and could not get to sleep initil morning. On the following day, at two o'clock, I set out for the Zlotnitzkys'. The old man was not at home, and his wife was not sitting in her accustomed place; her head had begun to ache after she had eaten pancakes,^ and she had gone to lie down in her bedroom. Varvara was standing with her shoulder leaning against the window, and staring into the street; Sofya was pacing to and fro in the room, with her arms folded across her breast; Popka^ w^as shrieking. "Ah! good morning!" — said Varvara, lan- guidly, as soon as I entered the room, and imme- diately added, in an undertone: "yonder goes a man with a tray on his head. . . ." (She had a habit of making remarks about the passers-by, occasionally, and as though to herself.) " Good morning," — I replied. — " Good morn- ing, Sofya Nikolaevna. And where is Tatyana Vasilievna? " ^ Pancakes, served with melted butter and caviare (never with sweet eyrup), are the principal feature of the Russian " butter-week " or carnival-tide, and are seldom or never eaten at any other time. ^ Translator. 2 Equivalent to Polly, in the case of parrots. — Translator. 64 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF " She has gone to lie down,"— replied Sofya, continuing to pace the room. " We had pancakes,"— remarked Varvara, without turning round. — " Why did n't you come? . . . Where is that clerk going? " " I had no time."— (" Po-li-iice! " yelled the parrot, harshly.) —" How your Popka does screech to-day! " " He always screeches like that," — said Sofya. We all maintained silence for a while. " He has turned in at the gate," — said Var- vara, suddenly climbing on the window-sill and opening the hinged pane. " What art thou about? " — inquired Sofya. " A beggar," — replied Varvara, bent down, picked up a copper five-kopek piece, on which the ashes of a fumigating pastile still rose in a mound, flung the coin into the street, slammed to the pane, and jumped heavily to the floor. . . . " I passed the time very pleasantly last night," — I began, as I seated myself in an arm-chair: — *' I dined witli a friend ; Konstantin Alexandritch was tliere. ..." (I looked at Sofya; she did not even contract her brows.) —" And, I must con- fess,"— I went on, — " that we got rather con- vivial; tlie four of us drank eight bottles." "You don't say so! " — calmly ejaculated So- fya, shaking her head. " Yes,"— I went on, slightly nettled by her in- G5 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF difference; — "and do yon know what, Sofya Xikoliievna, — 't is not witliout reason that the proverb says that when the wine is in the trnth comes ont." "How so?" " Konstantin Alexandritch made us laugli greatly. Just picture to yourself: he suddenly took to passing his hand across his forehead like this, and saying: ' What a fine, dashing fellow I am! I have an uncle who is a distinguished man. . . . " Ha, ha! " — rang out Varvara's short, abrupt laugh. . . . " Popka, popka, popka!" rattled the parrot in response. Sofya halted in front of me, and looked into my face. "And what did you say?" — she asked: — " don't you remember? " I blushed involuntarily. " I don't remember! I must have been in a fine state also. As a matter of fact," — I added, with significant pauses: — " it is a dangerous thing to drink wine ; the first you know, you babble secrets, and say that which no one ought to know. You will repent afterward, but then it is too late." " And did you babble secrets? " — inquired Sofya. " I 'm not talking about myself." Sofya turned away, and again began to walk up and down the room. I gazed at her, and raged 66 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF inwardly. " Just look at you,"— 1 said to myself, — " you 're a baby, a mere child, yet what control vou have over vourself ! You 're like a stone, sim- ply. But just wait a bit. . . ." " Sofya Xikolaevna . ..." I said aloud. Sofya stood still. " What do you want? " " Will not you play something on the piano? By the way, I have something to tell you,"— I added, lowering my voice. Sofya, without uttering a word, went into the hall; I followed her. She stopped beside the j^iano. " What shall I play for you? " — she asked. " What you jDlease ... a nocturne by Chopin." Sofya began the nocturne. She played rather badly, but with feeling. Her sister played only polkas and waltzes, and that rarely. She would lounge up to the piano, with her lazy gait, seat herself, drop the burnous from her shoulders to her elbows (I never saw her without a burnous), start up a polka thunderously, fail to finish it, begin another, then suddenly heave a sigh, rise and return to the window. A strange being was that Varvara. I sat down beside Sofya. " Sofya Xikolaevna," — I began, gazing in- tently at her askance: — " I must impart to you a bit of news whicli is verv disagreeable to me." "Xews? What is it?" 07 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF " This. . . . Up to this time I have been mis- taken in you, utterly mistaken." " How so? " — she returned, continuing to play, and fixing he.' eyes on lier fingers. " I have thought that you were frank; I have thought that you did not know how to be crafty, to be sly " Sofya put her face close to her music. . . . " I don't understand you." "But the principal thing is," — I went on; — " that I could not possibly imagine, that you, at your age, were already capable of playing a, part in so masterly a manner. . . ." Sofya's hands trembled slightly on the keys. " What are you saying? " — she said, still with- out looking at me: — " I am playing a part? " " Yes, you." (She laughed. . . . Fierce wrath took possession of me. ) .... " You feign to be indifferent to a certain man and . . . and you write letters to him," — I added in a whisper. Sofya's cheeks blanched, but she did not turn toward me; she played the nocturne to the end, rose, and shut the lid of the piano. " Where are 3^ou going? " — I asked, not with- out confusion. — " You will not answer me? " "What answer have I to make to you? I don't know what you are talking about. . . . And I don't know how to dissemble." She began to put the music together. . . . The blood flew to my head. 08 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF " Yes, you do know what I am talking about," — I said, rising also: — "and if you like, I will immediately remind you of several expressions in one of those letters: — 'be cautious as of vore.' ..." Sofya gave a shght start. " I had not in the least expected this from you," — she said at last. " And I had not in the least expected," — I interposed, — " that you, Sofya Nikolaevna, deigned to bestow your attention upon a man who . . . ." Sofya turned swiftly toward me; I involun- tarily retreated a pace; her eyes, always half- closed, were so widely opened that they ap- peared huge, and sparkled angrily under her brows. "Ah! In that case," — said she, — "you must know that I love that man, and that your opinion of him and of my love for him is a matter of perfect indifference to me. And where did you get the idea? .... What right have you to say that? And if I have made up my mind to any- thing . . . ." She stopped short, and swiftly left the room. I remained. I suddenly felt so awkward and conscience-stricken, that I covered my face with my hands. I comprehended all the im))ropriety, all the baseness of my conduct, and panting with shame and penitence, I stood like one branded 60 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF with disorace. "My God!"— I tliought:— " what have I done? " " Anton Xikititch," — the maid's voice became audible in the anteroom, — " please get a glass of water as quickly as possible for Sofya Nikola- evna." " Why, what 's the matter? " — asked the butler. " I think she 's weeping. . . ." I gave a start, and went into the drawing-room to get my hat. " What were you talking about with S6- netchka? " — Varvara asked me indifferentlj^ and after a brief pause, she added in an undertone: — " there goes that notary's clerk again." I began to take my leave. "Where are you going? Wait, mamma will come out of her room directly." "No; I can't now," — said I: — "it would be better for me to return some other time." At that moment, to my terror, — precisely that, — to my terror, Sofya entered the drawing-room with firm steps. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyelids were slightly red. She did not even glance at me. " Look, Sofya," — said Varvara: — " some clerk or other keeps walking about our house." " Some spy or other," .... remarked Sofya, coldly and scornfully. This was too much! I departed, and, really, I do not remember how I got home. 70 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF I was very heavy at heart, more heavy and bitter than I can describe. Two such cruel blows in the space of four-and-twenty hours! I had learned that Sofya loved another, and had for- ever forfeited her respect. I felt myself so anni- hilated and put to shame, that I could not even be indignant with myself. As I lay on the divan, with my face turned to the wall, I was surrender- ing myself with a sort of burning enjoyment to the first outbursts of despairing anguish, when I suddenly heard footsteps in the room. I raised my head and beheld one of my most in- timate friends— Yakoff Pasynkoff. I was ready to fly into a passion with any man who entered mv room that dav, but never could I be angry with Pasynkoff; on the contrary, in spite of the grief which was devouring me, I in- wardly rejoiced at his coming, and nodded to him. According to his wont, he strode up and down the room a couple of times, grunting and stretching his long limbs, stood silently for a little while, in front of me, and silenth' seated himself in one corner. I had known PasvnkofF a verv Ions: time, al- most from childhood. He had been reared in the same private boarding-school, kept by a Ger- man named W'interkeller, in whicli I had spent tliree years. Yakoff 's father, a poor, retired major, a ver^' honourable man, but somewhat un- hinged mentally, had brought him, an urchin of 71 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF seven years, to this German, paid a year's tuition in advance, had gone away from INIoscow, and vanished, without leaving a trace. From time to time dark, strange rumours concerning him ar- rived. Only after the lapse of seven years was it learned with certainty that he had heen drowned in a freshet, as he was crossing the Irtysh. What had taken him to Siberia, the Lord only knows. YakofF had no other relatives. So he remained on Winterkeller's hands. It is true that YakofF had one distant relative, — an aunt, w^ho was so poor, that at first she was afraid to go to see her nephew, lest they should cast him on her shoul- ders. Her alarm proved to be unfounded; the kind-hearted German kept YakofF with him, per- mitted him to learn with the other pupils, fed him (but they passed him over at dessert on week- days), and made over clothing for him from the camelot morning-gowns (chiefly snufF-coloured) of his mother, a very aged, but still alert and active Lifiyand ^ woman. The result of all these circumstances, and the result of YakofF's inferior position in the boarding-school was, that his com- rades treated him slightingly, looked down on him, and called him sometimes " woman's wrap- per," sometimes " the mob-cap's nephew " (his aunt constantly wore a very queer cap, with a tuft of yellow ribbons in the shape of an arti- choke, sticking out at the top), sometimes "the ^ Livonia. — Traxslator. 72 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF son of Yermak ^ (because his father had been drowned in the Irtysh). But, in spite of these nicknames, in spite of his absurd garments, in spite of his extreme poverty, they all loved him greatly, and it was impossible not to love him; a kinder, more noble soul never existed on earth, I think. He also studied extremely well. When I saw him for the first time, he was six- teen years of age, while I had just passed my thirteenth birthday. I was an extremely conceited and spoiled urchin, had been reared in a fairly wealthv home, and therefore when I entered the boarding-school I made haste to get intimate with a certain little Prince, the object of Winterkeller's special solicitude, and with two or three other small aristocrats, while I put on pompous airs with all tlie rest. I did not even deign to notice Pasynkoff. That long, awkward young fellow, in his hideous round- jacket and short trousers, from beneath which peeped thick, knitted thread stockings, seemed to me something in the nature of a page-boy from the house-serfs' class, or the son of a petty burgher. Pasynkoff was very po- lite and gentle to everybody, although he fawned on no one; if they repulsed him, he did not hum- ble himself, and did not sulk, Init held himself aloof, as though grieving and waiting. Thus did he behave with me also. About two months ' The ronqueror of Siberia, in the n-inn of Iv/.n the Terrible. He was drowned (loHt) while trying to swim IJie Irtysh. — Transla toil 73 YAKOFF TASYNKOFF elapsed. One clear siininier day, as I was pass- ing from tlie courtyard into the "arden, after a noisy game of ball, 1 saw Pasynkoff sitting on a bench, imder a tall lilac-bush. He was reading- a book. I cast a glance, in passing, at the cover, and read on the back the title: " Schiller's AVerke." I stopped short. " Do 3^ou know German? " — I asked Pasyn- koff. . . . To this day I feel mortified, when I recall how much scorn there was in the sound of my voice. .... Pasynkoif gently raised his small but expressive eyes to mine, and answered: " Yes, I do; do you? " " I should think so! " — I retorted, already af- fronted; and was on the point of proceeding on my way, but something kept me back. " And what in particular are you reading from Schiller? " — I inquired with as much haughti- ness as before. " I am now reading ' Resignation ' ; it is a very beautiful poem. I '11 read it to j^ou if you like — shall I? Sit down here beside me, on the bench.'* I hesitated a little, but sat down. Pasynkoff began to read. He knew German much better than I did; he was obliged to explain to me the sense of several lines; but I was no longer ashamed either of my ignorance, or of his superi- ority to myself. From that day forth, from that reading together in the garden, in the shade of the 74 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF lilac-bush, I loved PasynkofF with all my soul; I got intimate with him, I submitted wholh' to him. I vividly recall his personal ap]3earance at that epoch. However, he changed very little after- ward. He was tall, thin, long-bodied, and de- cidedly clumsy. His narrow shoulders and sunken chest gave him a sickly aspect, although he had no reason to complain of his health. His large head, arched on top, was inclined slightly on one side, his soft, chestnut hair hung in thin locks around his thin neck. His face was not handsome, and might even appear ridiculous, thanks to his long, thick and reddened nose, which seemed to hang over his broad, straight lips; but his open brow was very fine, and when he smiled, his small, orev eves beamed with such gentle and affectionate good-nature, that every- one felt warm and blithe at heart, from merely looking at him. I recall his voice, also, soft and even, with a peculiarly agreeable hoarseness. He talked little, as a general thing, and with obvious difficulty; but when he grew animated his speech flowed freely and, — strange to say! — his voice grew even softer, his glance seemed to retreat within and become extinguished, and liis whole face flushed faintly. In his mouth the Avords: " good," " truth,"' " life," " science," " love." never had a false ring, no matter how enthusi- astically he uttered them. He entered into the realm of the ideal without a strain, without an 75 h VAKOFF PASYNKOFF effort; his chaste soul was ready at all times to present itself before " tlie shrine of beauty "; it waited only for the greeting, the touch of an- other soul. . . . PasynkofF was a romanticist, one of the last romanticists whom I have chanced to meet. The romanticists, as every one knows, have died out now; at all events, there are none among the young people of the present day. So much the worse for the young people of the pres- ent dav! I spent about three years with Pasynkoff , soul to soul, as the saying is. I was the confidant of his first love. With what grateful attention and sympathy did I listen to his avowal! The object of his passion was Winterkeller's niece, a fair- haired prettj^ little German, with a plump, almost childish little face, and trustful, tender blue eyes. She was very kind-hearted and sentimental, loved INIattieson, Uhland, and Scliiller, and recited their verses very agreeably, in her timid, melodious voice. Pasynkoff' s love was of the most platonic sort; he saw his beloved only on Sunday (she came to play at forfeits with the Winterkeller children) and talked very little with her; on the other hand, one dsij, when she said to him, '' Mein Ueher, lieher Herr Jacob!" he could not get to sleep all night from excess of happiness. It never entered his head then, that she said '' mein lieher " to all his comrades. I remember, too, his grief and dejection, when the news suddenly spread 76 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF abroad, that Fraulein Frederika (that was her name), was going to marry Herr Kniftus, the owner of a rich meat-shop, and marry solely out of obedience to her parents' wishes, but not for love. That was a difficult time for Pasynkoff, and he suffered especially on the day when the newly-wedded pair made their first call. The former Fraulein, now already Frau Frederika, introduced him again by the name of " Ueber Herr Jacob/' to her husband, everything about whom was glistening : his eyes, and his black hair curled into a crest, and his forehead, and his teeth, and tlie buttons on his dress-suit, and the chain on his waistcoat, and the very boots on his decidedly large feet, whose toes were pointed outward. Pa- synkoff shook hands with Herr Kniftus, and wished him (and wished it sincerely— I am con- vinced of that) full and long-continued happi- ness. This took ])lace in my presence. I remem- ber with what sur})rise and sympathy I gazed at YakofF then. He seemed to me a hero! . . . And afterward, what sad conversations took place be- tween us! — " Seek consolation in art," — I said to him. — " Yes,"— he answered me, — " and in poetry." — " And in friendship,"- 1 added.— " And in friendsliip,"— he rej^eated. Oh, happy days! . . '. It was painful to me to part from Pasynkoff! Just before my departure, he finally got liis pa- pers, and entered the university, after k)ng wor- I 77 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF lying and trouble, and a correspondence which was often amusing lie continued to exist at Winterkeller's expense, but in place of the came- lot round- jackets and trousers, he received the customary clothing in return for lessons in vari- ous subjects, which he gave to the younger pupils. PasynkofF never changed his mode of conduct to me to the very end of my stay in the boarding- school, although the difference in our ages had already begun to tell, and I, I remember, had begun to be jealous of several of his new com- rade-students. His influence on me was of the most beneficial nature. Unfortunately, it was not of long duration. I will cite one instance only. In my childhood, I had a habit of lying. .... In YakofF's presence my tongue never turned to falsehood. But especially delightful to me was it to stroll with him, or to pace by his side to and fro in the room, and listen to him recite verses in his quiet, concentrated voice, with- out glancing at me. Really, it seemed to me then, that he and I were gradually leaving the earth behind us and soaring away into some radiant, mysteriously-beautiful region. ... I remember one night. He and I were sitting under the same lilac-bush: we had grown fond of the spot. All our comrades were already asleep; but we had risen softly, dressed ourselves by the sense of feel- ing, in the dark, and stealthily gone out " to dream awhile." It was quite warm out of doors, 78 YAKOFF PASYXKOFF but a chilly little breeze blew in gusts now and then, and made us nestle up closer to each other. We talked, we talked a great deal, and with fer- vour, so that we even interrupted each other, al- though we were not wrangling. In the sky shone myriads of stars- YakofF raised his eves, and, pressing my hand closely, softly exclaimed; "Above us Lies Heaven with its eternal stars. . . , And above the stars is their Creator. . , ."" A devout tremor coursed through me ; I turned cold all over, and sank down on his shoulder. . . . ]My heart was filled to overflowing. . . . Where are those raptures now? Alas! in the place where youth is also. I encountered YakofF in Petersburg eight years later on. I had just obtained a position in the government service, and some one had got him a petty post in some department or other. Our meeting was of the most joyous character. Xever shall I forget that moment when, as I was sitting at home one day, I suddenly heard liis voice in the anteroom. . . . How I started, with what a violent beating of the heart did I spring to mv feet and throw mvself on his neck, witliout giving him time to take off his fur coat and un- wind his scarf! How eagerly did I ga/.e at him athwart bright, involuntary tears of delight! He had aged somewhat in the course of the last seven 70 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF years; wrinkles, fine as the trace of a needle, had furrowed his brow here and there, his cheeks had grown slightly sunken, but his beard had hardly increased at all in thickness, and his smile re- mained the same as of yore, and his laugh, his charming, inward laugh, which resembled a draw- ing-in of the breath, was the same as ever. . . . Great heavens ! what was there that we did not talk over that day! .... How many favourite poems we recited to each other! I began to urge him to come and live w^ith me, but he would not consent; but, on the other hand, he promised to come to see me every day, and he kept his promise. And Pasynkoff had not changed in soul, either. Pie presented himself before me the same roman- ticist as I had formerly known him. In spite of the way in which life's chill, the bitter chill of experience, had gripped him, the tender flower, which had blossomed early in the heart of my friend had retained all its pristine beauty. No sadness, no pensiveness even, were perceptible in him: as of old, he was gentle, but ever blithe in soul. He lived in Petersburg as in a desert, taking no heed for the future, and consorting with hardly any one. I made him acquainted with the Zlotnitzkys. He called on them with tolerable frequency. Without being conceited, he was not shy: but with them, as everywhere else, he talked little, although he liked them. The heavy old 80 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF man, Tatyana Vasilievna's husband, even treated him affectionately, and both the taciturn girls speedily got used to him. He would come bringing with him, in the back pocket of his overcoat, some newh^-published work, and take a long time to make up his mind to read it, but keep twisting his neck to one side, like a bird, and peering to see whether it were possible; and, at last, he would ensconce himself in a corner (he was fond, in general, of sitting in corners), pull out the book, and set to reading aloud, now and then interrupting himself with brief comments or exclamations. I noticed that Varvara was more given to sitting down beside him and listening than her sister was, although, of course, she did not understand him clearly: literature did not interest her. She would sit op- posite PasynkofF, with her chin propped on her hands, and gaze, — not into his eyes, but into his whole face, — and not give utterance to a single word, but merely heave a sudden, noisy sigh. — In the evening, we played at forfeits, especially on Sundays and feast-days. We were then joined by two young ladies, sisters, distant relatives of tlie Zlotnitzkys, — small, plump girls, and fright- ful gigglers; also by several cadets and yunkers, very quiet, good-natured lads. PasynkofF always seated himself beside Tatyjina Vasflievna, and lRly)ed her devise what the person who drew the forfeit should do. 81 YAKOFF PASYNKOFF Sofya was not fond of the caresses and kisses with which forfeits are usually redeemed, while Varvara was vexed when she was coni])c'lled to hunt up anythin