SMOKE
 
 THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF 
 IVAN TURGENIEFF 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CHAELES SCEIBNEE'S SONS 
 
 Each limn, $l.ia 
 
 RtfDIN, AND A KING LEAR OF THE STEPPES 
 
 A NOBLEMAN'S NEST 
 
 ON THE EVE 
 
 FATHERS AND CHILDREN 
 
 SMOKE 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL 
 
 MEMOIRS OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 THE JEW, AND OTHER STORIES, 
 
 DIARY OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN, AND OTHER 
 STORIES 
 
 FIRST LOVE, AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 PHANTOMS, AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 THE BRIGADIER, AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 SPRING FRESHETS, AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 A DESPERATE CHARACTER, AND OTHER STORIES
 
 SMOKE 
 
 BY 
 
 IVAN TURGENIEFF 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY 
 ISABEL F. HAPGOOD
 
 Copyright, 1904, by 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S Sows
 
 SMOKE 
 
 (1867)
 
 SMOKE 
 
 AT four o'clock, on the afternoon of the tenth 
 A*, of August, in the year 1862, a large number 
 of persons were assembled in front of the famous 
 " Conversation " (Hall) in Baden-Baden. The 
 weather continued to be delightful; everything 
 round about the verdant trees, the bright-hued 
 houses of the comfortable town, the undulating 
 hills everything lay outspread in festive guise, 
 with lavish hand, beneath the rays of the be- 
 nignant sun ; everything was smiling in a passive, 
 confiding and engaging manner, and the same 
 sort of vague yet amiable smile strayed over the 
 faces of the people, young and old, homely and 
 handsome. Even the dyed and bleached faces of 
 the Parisian courtesans did not destroy the gen- 
 eral impression of manifest satisfaction and ex- 
 ultation, but the motley-hued ribbons and fea- 
 thers, the glints of gold and steel on bonnets and 
 veils, involuntarily suggested to the vision the 
 reanimated gleam and light play of springtide 
 flowers and rainbow-hued wings: but the dry, 
 guttural rattle of French gabble could not take 
 
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 the place of the twittering of the birds, or bear 
 comparison therewith. 
 
 However, everything was going on as usual. 
 The orchestra in the pavilion played now a pot- 
 pourri from " La Traviata," again a waltz by 
 Strauss, or Dites-lui, or a Russian romance ar- 
 ranged for instruments by the obliging band- 
 master ; around the green tables in the gambling- 
 halls thronged the same familiar figures, with the 
 same dull and greedy expression as ever, an ex- 
 pression neither exactly perplexed nor yet irri- 
 tated, but essentially rapacious, which the gam- 
 bling fever imparts to all, even to the most aristo- 
 cratic features ; the usual obese landed proprietor 
 from Tamboff, in extremely dandified attire, 
 with the usual incomprehensible, convulsive haste, 
 and eyes protruding, leaning his breast on the 
 table, and paying no heed to the grins of the crou- 
 piers, at the moment of uttering the exclamation, 
 " Rien ne va plus! " was scattering circles of louis 
 d'or, with perspiring hand, over all the squares of 
 the roulette-board, and thereby depriving himself 
 of all possibility of winning anything, even in the 
 case of luck; which did not in the least prevent 
 him, in the course of that same evening, from 
 humouring with sympathetic wrath Prince Koko, 
 one of the well-known leaders of the opposition 
 among the gentry, the Prince Koko who, in Paris, 
 in the drawing-room of Princess Mathilde, in the 
 presence of the Emperor, remarked so truly:
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Madame, le principe de la propriete est profon- 
 dement ebranle en Russie" According to their 
 wont, our amiable fellow-countrymen and women 
 assembled at the " Russian Tree "a I 3 Arbre 
 Russe; they strolled up ostentatiously, care- 
 lessly, fashionably, greeted each other majes- 
 tically, with elegant ease, as is befitting beings who 
 stand at the apex of contemporary culture, but, 
 having met and seated themselves, they positively 
 did not know what to say to one another, and con- 
 tented themselves with the exchange of empty 
 phrases, or with the threadbare, extremely impu- 
 dent and extremely insipid sallies of a French ex- 
 literary man, who had long since seen his best 
 days, a jester and chatter-box, with Jewish slip- 
 pers on his wretched little feet, and with a con- 
 temptible little beard on his miserable little phiz. 
 He babbled to them, a ces princes Russes, all sorts 
 of stale nonsense out of ancient almanacs of the 
 Charivari and Tintamarre, . . while they ces 
 princes Russes burst into grateful laughter, as 
 though involuntarily acknowledging both the 
 overwhelming superiority of foreign wit and 
 their own definitive incapacity to devise anything 
 amusing. And yet there was present almost all 
 the " fine fleur " of our society, " all the quality 
 and the models of fashion." There was Count 
 X., our incomparable dilettante, a profound mu- 
 sical nature, who " recites " romances so divinely, 
 and, as a matter of fact, cannot distinguish one 
 
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 note from another without poking his forefinger 
 at random over the keys, and sings somewhat like 
 an indifferently poor gipsy, somewhat like a Pa- 
 risian hair-dresser ; there was also our enchanting 
 Baron Z., that jack of all trades: literary man, 
 administrator, orator and sharper; there was 
 also Prince Y., the friend of religion and 
 of the people, who had amassed a huge fortune 
 in his time, the blessed epoch of monopolies, by 
 the sale of inferior liquor adulterated with stra- 
 monium; and brilliant General O. O., who has 
 subdued something or other, is the pacificator of 
 somebody or other, but, nevertheless, does not 
 know what to do with himself, or how to make 
 himself agreeable; and R. R., an amusing fat 
 man, who regards himself as a very ailing and 
 very clever fellow, but is as healthy as an ox and 
 as stupid as a stump. This R. R. is almost the 
 only person who in our day still preserves the 
 tradition of the social lions of the '40's of the 
 epoch of " The Hero of Our Times " ' and of 
 Countess Vorotynsky. He has retained also the 
 gait with its swing from the heels, and " le culte 
 de la pose " (which cannot even be expressed in 
 Russian), and the unnatural deliberation of 
 movement, and the sleepy majesty of expression 
 on the impassive, as it were offended, counte- 
 nance, and the habit of interrupting other peo- 
 ple's remarks with a yawn, carefully inspecting 
 
 M. Y. Lrmontoff. THAXSLATOR. 
 6
 
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 his own fingers and nails the while, of laughing 
 straight in people's faces, of suddenly tilting the 
 hat from the nape of the neck over the brows, and 
 so forth, and so forth. There were also even gov- 
 ernmental officials, diplomats, big-wigs with Eu- 
 ropean reputations, men of good counsel and 
 sense, who imagine that the golden bull was issued 
 by the Pope, and that the English " poor-tax " is 
 an impost on the poor; there were, in conclusion, 
 fiery but bashful admirers of the frail fair ones, 
 young society dandies with their hair supremely 
 well parted behind, with superb pendent side- 
 whiskers, attired in real London costumes, young 
 dandies whom, apparently, nothing could prevent 
 from becoming the same sort of vulgar triflers as 
 the renowned French chatterer; but no! nothing 
 native-born is in vogue with us, and Countess 
 Sh., the well-known law-giver of fashion, 
 and of the " grand genre," nicknamed by mali- 
 cious tongues " The Tzaritza of the Wasps " and 
 
 ' The Medusa in a Mob-cap," preferred, in the 
 absence of the prattler, to turn to the Italians, 
 Moldavians, American " spiritists," dashing sec- 
 retaries of foreign legations, petty Germans with 
 effeminate but already cautious physiognomies, 
 and so forth, who were hovering about there also. 
 In imitation of the Countess's example, Princess 
 Babette also, the one in whose arms Chopin died 
 
 (there are about a thousand ladies in Europe in 
 whose arms he yielded up his spirit) , and Princess 
 
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 Annette, who would have possessed every charm 
 were it not that from time to time suddenly, like 
 the odour of cabbage in the midst of the finest 
 amber, the common country washerwoman had 
 not cropped out ; and Princess Pachette, to whom 
 the following catastrophe happened : her husband 
 lighted upon a conspicuous position and all of a 
 sudden, Dieu salt pourquoi, he thrashed the mayor 
 of the town and stole twenty thousand rubles of 
 the government money ; and that mirthful maiden 
 Princess Zizi, and tearful Princess Zozo; all of 
 them deserted their fellow-country people and 
 treated them ungraciously. . . But let us also 
 desert them, these charming ladies, and quit the 
 famous tree around which they are seated in such 
 costly but rather tasteless toilettes, and may the 
 Lord send them relief from the ennui which is 
 tormenting them ! 
 
 8
 
 II 
 
 SEVERAL paces removed from the " Russian 
 Tree," at a small table in front of Weber's cafe, 
 sat a man about thirty years of age, of medium 
 stature, lean and swarthy, with a manly and 
 agreeable face. Bending forward and leaning on 
 his cane with both hands, he sat quietly and sim- 
 ply, like a man to whom the idea would never oc- 
 cur that any one was noticing him or taking an 
 interest in him. His large, expressive eyes, brown 
 with a tawny tinge, gazed slowly about him, now 
 blinking a little with the sunlight, again suddenly 
 and intently following some eccentric figure that 
 passed by, in which last case a swift, childlike 
 smile barely moved his slight moustache, his lips 
 and strong physiognomy. He was clad in a loose 
 frock-coat of German cut, and his soft grey hat 
 half concealed his lofty brow. At first sight he 
 produced the impression of an honourable, active 
 and rather self-confident young fellow, of which 
 sort there are not a few in the world. He ap- 
 peared to be resting from prolonged labours, and 
 with all the more singleness of mind was divert- 
 ing himself with the picture which unfolded itself 
 before him, because his thoughts were far away, 
 and because, moreover, those thoughts were re- 
 
 9
 
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 volving in a world which did not in the least re- 
 semble that which surrounded him at that mo- 
 ment. He was a Russian ; his name was Grigory 
 Mikhailovitch Litvinoff. 
 
 We must make his acquaintance, and therefore 
 it becomes necessary to narrate, in a few words, 
 his far from gay or complicated past. 
 
 The son of a retired plodding official from the 
 merchant class, he had not been educated in town, 
 as might have been expected, but in the country. 
 His mother was a noble by birth, a girl from one 
 of the Government Institutes, a very amiable 
 and very enthusiastic being, yet not lacking 
 in strength of character. Being twelve years 
 younger than her husband, she remodelled his 
 education as far as she was able, dragged him out 
 of the official into the noble rut, tamed and sof- 
 tened his harsh, vigorous nature. Thanks to her, 
 he had come to dress neatly and behave with 
 propriety, and had left off swearing; he had 
 come to respect learned men and learning, 
 although, of course, he never took a book 
 in his hand, and endeavoured in every way never 
 to derogate from his dignity: he even began to 
 walk more lightly, and he spoke in a subdued 
 voice, chiefly on lofty subjects, which cost him no 
 little trouble. " Ekh! I 'd like to take and spank 
 you! " he sometimes said to himself, but aloud he 
 remarked: " Yes, yes ... of course; that is the 
 question." Litvfnoff's mother had put her house- 
 
 10
 
 SMOKE 
 
 hold also on a European footing; she said " you " 
 to the servants, and permitted no one to overeat 
 at dinner to the point of snoring. So far as the 
 estate which belonged to her was concerned, 
 neither she nor her husband had been able to make 
 anything out of it: it had long been neglected, 
 but was extensive with various meadows, forests 
 and a lake, beside which, in times gone by, had 
 stood a large factory established by the zealous 
 but unsystematic owner, which had thriven in the 
 hands of a knavish merchant, and had finally 
 come to ruin under the direction of an honest 
 manager, a German. Madame Litvinoff was sat- 
 isfied with not having impaired her property and 
 with having contracted no debts. Unfortunately, 
 she could not boast of good health, and died of 
 consumption during the very year that her son 
 entered the Moscow University. He did not fin- 
 ish his course, owing to circumstances (the reader 
 will learn later on what they were) , and lounged 
 about in the country, where he enjoyed life for a 
 considerable time without occupation, or connec- 
 tions, almost without acquaintances. Thanks to 
 the nobles of his county, who were ill-disposed to- 
 ward him, and imbued not so much with the 
 Western theory of the evils of " absenteeism " as 
 with the innate conviction that " charity begins at 
 home," he was got into the militia in 1855, and 
 came near dying of typhus in the Crimea, where, 
 without having beheld a single " ally," he was 
 
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 quartered for six months in an earth-hut on the 
 banks of the Putrid Sea; then he served in the 
 elections, as a matter of course, not without un- 
 pleasantness, and finding himself at ease in the 
 country he became passionately devoted to farm- 
 ing. He comprehended that his mother's prop- 
 erty, badly and indolently managed by his now 
 infirm father, did not yield a tenth part of the 
 income which it was capable of yielding, and that 
 in experienced and expert hands it might be con- 
 verted into a regular gold mine ; but he also com- 
 prehended that precisely what he lacked was this 
 experience and skill and he betook himself 
 abroad to study agronomy and technology to 
 study them from the very foundation. He had 
 spent more than four years in Mecklenburg, 
 Silesia, Karlsruhe, he had travelled in Belgium 
 and in England, he had laboured conscientiously, 
 he had acquired information: it had not been 
 easily acquired; but he had endured the ordeal 
 to the end, and now, confident of himself, of his 
 future, of the utility he could bring to his fellow- 
 countrymen, even to the whole country, he was 
 preparing to return to his native land, whither his 
 father, utterly disconcerted by the emancipa- 
 tion, by the division of lands, by the redemption 
 contracts, by the new order of things, in short, 
 was summoning him with despairing adjurations 
 and entreaties in every letter. . . But why was 
 be in Baden? 
 
 12
 
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 He was in Baden because from day to day he 
 was expecting the arrival there of his second 
 cousin, his affianced bride, Tatyana Petrovna 
 Shestoff. He had known her almost from child- 
 hood, and had passed the spring and summer with 
 her in Dresden, where she had settled with her 
 aunt. He sincerely loved, he profoundly re- 
 spected his young relative, and having completed 
 his obscure preparatory work, and being on the 
 point of entering upon a new career, of beginning 
 active, not state service, he had proposed to her, 
 as to a beloved woman, as to a comrade and friend, 
 that she should unite her life to his life for joy 
 and for sorrow, for toil and for repose, " for bet- 
 ter, for worse," as the English say. She had con- 
 sented, and he had betaken himself to Karlsruhe, 
 where he had left his books, his things and his 
 papers. . . But why was he in Baden, you ask 
 again? 
 
 He was in Baden because Tatyana's aunt, who 
 had reared her, Kapitolina Markovna Shestoff, 
 an elderly spinster of fifty-five years, a most kind- 
 hearted and honourable eccentric, a free soul, all 
 burning with the fire of self-sacrifice and self- 
 renunciation, an esprit fort (she read Strauss, 
 on the sly from her niece, it is true) , and demo- 
 crat, a sworn foe of grand society and the aris- 
 tocracy, could not resist the temptation to take 
 just one little peep at that same grand society in 
 such a fashionable place as Baden. . . Kapito- 
 
 13
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Una Mdrkovna dispensed with crinoline and 
 clipped her white hair in a shock, but luxury and 
 brilliancy secretly agitated her, and she found it 
 joyful and sweet to rail against them and despise 
 them. . . And how could one refuse to divert the 
 kindly old lady? 
 
 But Litvfnoff was so calm and simple, he gazed 
 about him so confidently, because his life lay be- 
 fore him with precise clearness, because his fate 
 had been settled, and because he was proud of that 
 fate, and was rejoicing in it, as the work of his 
 own hands.
 
 Ill 
 
 " BA! ba! ba! here he is! " a squeaking voice sud- 
 denly rang out straight in his ear, and a flabby 
 hand tapped him on the shoulder. 
 
 He raised his head, and beheld one of his few 
 Moscow acquaintances, a certain BambaefF, a nice 
 man, one of the triflers, no longer young, with 
 cheeks and nose as soft as though they had been 
 boiled, greasy, dishevelled hair, and a flabby, 
 obese body. Eternally penniless and eternally in 
 raptures over something or other, Rostislaff Bam- 
 baefF roamed to and fro, with a hurrah but with- 
 out occupation, over the face of our long-suffer- 
 ing mother earth. 
 
 ' The very person I wanted to see! " he re- 
 peated, opening wide his fat-obscured little eyes, 
 and thrusting out his thick little lips, above which 
 a dyed moustache stuck out in a strange and in- 
 appropriate manner. " Hurrah for Baden! 
 Every one crawls hither like black beetles. How 
 didst thou get here? " 
 
 BambaefF addressed positively every one on 
 earth as " thou." 
 
 " I arrived three days ago." 
 
 "Whence?" 
 
 15
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " But why dost thou wish to know? " 
 
 " Why, indeed! But wait, wait, perhaps thou 
 dost not know who else has arrived here? Guba- 
 ryoff! That 's who is here ! He came from Hei- 
 delberg yesterday. Of course thou knowest 
 him?" 
 
 " I have heard of him." 
 
 " Only that? Good gracious! Instantly, this 
 very minute, I shall drag thee to him. Not know 
 such a man ! And, by the way, here 's Voroshi- 
 loff . . . . Stay, perhaps thou dost not know him 
 either? I have the honour to present you to each 
 other. Both of you are learned men. He 's even 
 a very phoenix. Kiss each other! " 
 
 And as he uttered these words, Bambaeff 
 turned to a handsome young man with a rosy but 
 already serious face, who was standing beside him. 
 Litvinoff rose, and of course did not kiss him, 
 but exchanged a brief salute with the " phoenix," 
 who, judging by the stiffness of his demeanour, 
 was not any too well pleased by this unexpected 
 introduction. 
 
 " I said a phoenix, and I will not withdraw the 
 word," continued Bambaeff : " go to Peters- 
 burg, to the * * * Cadet Corps, and look at the 
 golden board roll of honour whose name 
 stands first there? Voroshiloff Semyon Yakov- 
 levitch! But Gubaryoff, Gubaryoif, my dear 
 fellows ! That 's the man to whom we must run, 
 run! I positively worship that man! And I 'm 
 
 16
 
 SMOKE 
 
 not the only one; all, without distinction, adore 
 him. What a work he is now writing, oh ... 
 oh ... oh!" 
 
 "What is the work about?" inquired Litvi- 
 noff. 
 
 " About everything, my dear fellow, in the 
 style of Buckle, you know . . only more pro- 
 found more profound. . . In it everything will 
 be settled and made clear." 
 
 " And hast thou read that work thyself? " 
 
 " Xo, I have not; and it is even a secret which 
 must not be divulged ; but from Gubaryoff every- 
 thing is to be expected, everything! Yes!" 
 Bambaeff sighed and folded his hands. ' What 
 if two or three more such heads were bred among 
 us in Russia, what would happen, O Lord my 
 God ! I '11 tell thee one thing, Grigory Mikhailo- 
 vitch : whatever thou mayest have been occupying 
 thyself with of late, and I do not know what thy 
 interests in general are, whatever may be thy 
 convictions, and I know nothing about them 
 either, thou wilt find something to learn from 
 him, from Gubaryoff. Unfortunately, he will 
 not be here long. We must take advantage of the 
 opportunity, we must go. To him, to him! " 
 
 A passing dandy with small red curls and a 
 sky-blue ribbon on his low-crowned hat turned 
 round and stared at Bambaeff through his mon- 
 ocle with a sarcastic smile. Litvfnoff was vexed. 
 
 'Why dost thou shout?" he ejaculated: 
 
 17
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " thou yellest as though after a hound! I have 
 not yet dined." 
 
 " What of that! We can dine immediately at 
 Weber's . . all three. . Capital! Hast thou the 
 money to pay for me? " he added in an undertone. 
 
 " Yes, yes; only really I do not know ..." 
 
 " Stop, please; thou wilt thank me, and he will 
 be glad. Akh, my God! " Bambaeff broke off.- 
 " They 're playing the finale from ' Ernani.' 
 How charming! A som . . . mo Carlo. . . But 
 what a fellow I am ! I begin to cry at once. Well, 
 Semyon Yakovlevitch ! Voroshiloff! Shall we 
 go?" 
 
 Voroshiloff, who was still standing in a stiff 
 and stately attitude, maintaining his original 
 somewhat haughty dignity of mien, dropped his 
 eyes significantly, frowned, and bellowed some- 
 thing through his teeth . . . but did not refuse; 
 and LitvinofF said to himself : " Never mind ! let 's 
 do it, seeing there 's plenty of time." Bambaeff 
 slipped his arm into his, but before setting out 
 for the cafe he beckoned to Isabella, the famous 
 flower-girl of the Jockey Club: it had occurred 
 to him to buy a bouquet of her. But the aristo- 
 cratic flower-girl did not stir ; and why should she 
 go to a gentleman without gloves, in a stained vel- 
 veteen jacket, a variegated necktie, and patched 
 boots, whom she had never beheld in Paris ? Then 
 Voroshiloff beckoned to her in his turn. She 
 went to him, and he, selecting from her basket a 
 
 18
 
 SMOKE 
 
 tiny bunch of violets, tossed her a gulden. He 
 had thought to astonish her with his lavishness; 
 but she never moved an eyelash, and when he 
 turned away from her she curled her closely-com- 
 pressed lips in scorn. Voroshiloff was very fop- 
 pishly, even elegantly, clad, but the experienced 
 eye of the Parisienne had instantly noted in his 
 toilette, in his very gait, which bore traces of early 
 military drilling, the absence of genuine, thor- 
 oughbred " chic." 
 
 When our acquaintances had seated themselves 
 in Weber's principal room and had ordered din- 
 ner, they entered into conversation. Bambaeff 
 talked loudly and fervently about the lofty sig- 
 nificance of Gubaryoff , but soon fell silent, and 
 noisily sighing and chewing, clinked glass to 
 glass. Voroshiloff ate and drank little, and hav- 
 ing questioned Litvinoff as to the nature of his 
 occupation, began to express his own opinions . . . 
 not so much with regard to that occupation as in 
 general about various " questions." . . He sud- 
 denly grew animated and started off at full gal- 
 lop, like a good horse, adroitly and sharply em- 
 phasising every syllable, every letter, like a 
 fine dashing young cadet at his final ex- 
 amination, and waving his arms violently, but 
 not in accord. He became momentarily more vol- 
 uble, more energetic, as no one interrupted him: 
 it was exactly as though he were reading a disser- 
 tation or a lecture. The names of the newest 
 
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 SMOKE 
 
 savants, with the year of each one's birth or death 
 added, the title of pamphlets which had just been 
 published, in general names, names, names, 
 fell thick and fast from his tongue, affording him 
 the highest gratification, which was reflected in 
 his flashing eyes. Voroshiloff evidently despised 
 everything old, prized only the cream of culture, 
 the latest, most advanced points of science; to 
 mention, even inopportunely, the book of some 
 Doctor Sauerbrengel about the prisons in Penn- 
 sylvania, or an article which had appeared the 
 previous day in The Asiatic Journal about the 
 Vedas and the Puranas (he said it in just that 
 way: " Journal," although, of course, he did not 
 know English) was for him genuine delight, 
 felicity. Litvinoff listened to him, listened and 
 could not in the least understand what his own 
 speciality was. Now he turned the conversation 
 upon the role of the Celtic race in history ; again 
 it bore him off to the ancient world, and he argued 
 about the marbles of ^Egina, harped insistently 
 on the sculptor Onatas, who lived before Phidias, 
 but who, in his hands, was transformed into Jona- 
 than, and thereby, in the twinkling of an eye, im- 
 parted to his whole argument a biblical or Ameri- 
 can colouring; then he suddenly jumped to polit- 
 ical economy, and called Bastia a fool and a 
 blockhead, " as much so as Adam Smith and all 
 the physiocrats " . . . "Physiocrats! " Bambaeff 
 whispered after him . . . "Aristocrats? . . ." 
 
 20
 
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 Among other things, Voroshiloff had evoked an 
 expression of amazement on the countenance of 
 that same Bambaeff by a remark carelessly and 
 lightly dropped concerning Macaulay, as an ob- 
 solete author who had been left in the lurch by 
 science ; as for Gneist and Riehl, he declared that 
 it was merely necessary to name them, and 
 shrugged his shoulders. Bambaeff shrugged his 
 shoulders also. " And all this at one burst, with- 
 out any motive whatever, in the presence of stran- 
 gers in a cafe," meditated Litvinoff, as he gazed 
 at the blond hair, the light eyes, the white teeth 
 of his new acquaintance (he was particularly dis- 
 turbed by those huge, sugar-like teeth, and also 
 by those arms, with their inappropriate flour- 
 ishes) ; " and he does not smile even once; and yet 
 he must be a kindly young fellow and extremely 
 inexperienced. . ." VoroshilofF quieted down at 
 last ; his voice, youthfully resonant and hoarse as 
 that of a young cock, broke a little . . . and 
 Bambaeff in the nick of time began to declaim 
 verses, and again almost fell to weeping, which 
 produced the effect of a row at one neigh- 
 bouring table, around which an English family 
 was seated, and a tittering at another: two cour- 
 tesans were dining at this second table with a very 
 aged infant in a lilac wig. The waiter brought 
 the bill; the friends paid it. 
 
 " Well," exclaimed Bambaeff, rising heavily 
 from his chair: "now for a cup of coffee, and 
 
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 march! But yonder it is, our Russia," he added, 
 halting in the doorway, and almost with rapture 
 pointing with his soft, red hand at Voroshiloff 
 and Litvinoff. . . " What do you think of it? " 
 
 " Yes, Russia," thought Litvinoff; but Voro- 
 shiloff, who had already again succeeded in im- 
 parting to his face a concentrated expression, 
 smiled condescendingly, and lightly clicked his 
 heels together. 
 
 Five minutes later all three of them were 
 mounting the stairs of the hotel where Stepan 
 Nikolaevitch Gubaryoff was stopping. . . A tall, 
 stately lady, in a bonnet with a short black veil, 
 was descending the same staircase, and on catch- 
 ing sight of Litvinoff she suddenly turned to him 
 and halted, as though struck with amazement. 
 Her face flushed for a moment, and then as swiftly 
 paled beneath the close meshes of the lace; but 
 Litvinoff did not notice her, and the lady ran 
 more briskly than before down the broad steps. 
 
 22
 
 IV 
 
 " GRIGORY LITVIXOFF is a jolly good fellow, a 
 Russian soul; I recommend him," exclaimed Bam- 
 baeff, conducting Litvinoff up to a man of short 
 stature and the appearance of the landed gentry 
 class, with an unbuttoned collar, in a short-tailed 
 coat, grey morning trousers, and slippers, who 
 was standing in the middle of a bright, capitally- 
 furnished room;" and this," he added, turning 
 to LitvinoiF, " this is he, the very man; you un- 
 derstand? Well, in one word, Gubaryoff." 
 
 Litvinoff fixed his eyes with curiosity on " the 
 very man." At first he perceived nothing unusual 
 about him. He beheld before him a gentleman 
 of respectable and rather stupid appearance, with 
 a large forehead, large eyes, a large beard, 
 a thick neck, and an oblique glance, which was 
 directed downward. This gentleman simpered, 
 muttered: " Mmm . . . yes . . . that 's good . . . 
 I 'm delighted . . . ," raised his hand to his own 
 face, and immediately turning his back on Lit- 
 vinoff, strode several paces across the carpet, wab- 
 bling slowly and strangely, as though he were 
 walking stealthily. Gubaryoff had a habit of 
 constantly walking to and fro, incessantly pluck- 
 
 23
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ing at and combing his beard with the tips of his 
 long, firm nails. In addition to Gubaryoff there 
 was in the room a lady in a shabby silk gown, 
 about fifty years of age, with a remarkably mobile 
 face as yellow as a lemon, black down on her up- 
 per lip, and vivacious little eyes which seemed on 
 the point of popping out; a thick-set man was 
 also sitting there doubled up in a corner. 
 
 ' Well, ma'am, respected Matrona Semyo- 
 novna," began Gubaryoff, addressing the lady, 
 and evidently not considering it necessary to in- 
 troduce her to Litvinoff ; " dear me, what was it 
 that you had begun to tell us? " 
 
 The lady (her name was Matrona Semyonovna 
 Sukhantchikoff ; she was a widow, childless, not 
 rich, and this was the second year that she had 
 spent in wandering from land to land) immedi- 
 ately began to talk with a peculiar, embittered 
 enthusiasm : 
 
 " Well, and so he presents himself to the 
 Prince, and says to him : ' Your Illustrious High- 
 ness,' says he, ' with your dignity and your sta- 
 tion, what does it cost you to alleviate my lot? 
 You,' says he, ' cannot fail to respect the purity 
 of my convictions! And is it possible,' says he, 
 ' in our day to persecute a man because of his con- 
 victions? ' And what do you think the Prince, 
 that cultured, highly-placed dignitary did? " 
 
 "Well, what did he do?" ejaculated Guba- 
 ryoff, thoughtfully lighting a cigarette. 
 
 24
 
 SMOKE 
 
 The lady drew herself up, and stretched out in 
 front of her her bony right hand, with the index 
 finger separated. 
 
 " He called his lackey, and said to him : ' Strip 
 the coat off this man and take possession of it. 
 I make you a present of his coat.' ' 
 
 " And did the lackey strip it off? " inquired 
 Bambaeff, clasping his hands. 
 
 " He stripped it off and took it. And that was 
 done by Prince Barnauloff, the famous rich man, 
 the grandee, invested with special power, the rep- 
 resentative of the government! What may we 
 expect after that! " 
 
 Madame Sukhantchikoff's feeble body quiv- 
 ered all over with indignation, convulsive shivers 
 flitted across her face, her emaciated bosom 
 heaved violently beneath her flat bodice; it is un- 
 necessary to mention her eyes : they fairly leaped. 
 However, they were always leaping, whatever she 
 was talking about. 
 
 " 'T is a crying, crying shame!" ejaculated 
 Bambaeff. " Hanging is too good for him! " 
 
 " Mmm . . . mmm . . . From top to bottom 
 it 's all rotten," remarked Gubaryoff, but without 
 raising his voice." It is n't a case for hanging; 
 . . . 't is a case . . . for other measures." 
 
 " But stay; is it true? " said Litvmoff. 
 
 " Is it true? " retorted Madame Sukhantchi- 
 koff. " Why, it 's impossible even to think of 
 doubting, impossible to thi-i-i-ink of such a 
 
 25
 
 SMOKE 
 
 thing. ." She uttered the word with such force 
 that she fairly writhed." It was told to me by a 
 most reliable man. And you know him, Stepan 
 Nikolaevitch Kapiton Elistratoff. He heard it 
 himself from an eye-witness, from a witness of 
 that outrageous scene." 
 
 "What Elistratoff?" inquired Gubaryoff.- 
 " The one who was in Kazan? " 
 
 : ' The very man. I know, Stepan Nikola- 
 itch, that a rumour was circulated about him 
 that he had got money out of some contractor 
 or distiller or other. But who says that? Peli- 
 kanoff ! And can one believe Pelikanoff, when 
 everybody knows that he is simply a spy? " 
 
 " No, permit me, Matrona Semyonovna," in- 
 terposed Bambaeff: " I am Pelikanoff's friend; 
 I don't believe he is a spy." 
 
 ' Yes, yes, exactly that, a spy! " 
 
 " But wait a bit, please. . ." 
 
 " A spy, a spy ! " screamed Madame Sukhan- 
 tchikoff . " 
 
 " But he is n't, no, wait ; I '11 tell you some- 
 thing," shouted Bambaeff in his turn. 
 
 " A spy, a spy! " reiterated Madame Sukhan- 
 tchikoff. 
 
 "No, no! There's Tenteleeff that 's quite 
 another matter! " roared Bambaeff at the top of 
 his voice. 
 
 Madame Sukhantchikoff became silent for a 
 moment. 
 
 26
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " I know it for a fact, with regard to that gen- 
 tleman," continued Bambaeff in his ordinary 
 voice, " that when the Third Section summoned 
 him he crawled at the feet of Countess Blazen- 
 kampf and kept whining : ' Save me, intercede for 
 me ! ' But Pelikanoff never descended to such 
 baseness." 
 
 "Mm . . . Tenteleeff . . ." growled Guba- 
 ryoff: " that . . that must be noted." 
 
 Madame Sukhantchikoff scornfully shrugged 
 her shoulders. 
 
 " Both are good," she remarked: "but I know 
 a still better anecdote about Tenteleeff. As 
 every one knows, he was the most dreadful tyrant 
 with his people, although he gave himself out as 
 an emancipator. Well, one day he was sitting 
 with some acquaintances in Paris, when, all of a 
 sudden, in comes Mrs. Beecher Stowe, well, you 
 know, ' Uncle Tom's Cabin.' Tenteleeff, a 
 frightfully conceited man, began to urge the host 
 to present him; but as soon as Mrs. Stowe heard 
 his name: 'What?' says she: 'how dares he 
 make acquaintance with the author of ' Uncle 
 Tom'? And, whack, she slapped his face! 
 'Begone!' says she, 'this instant!' And 
 what do you think? Tenteleeff took his hat, 
 and putting his tail between his legs, he slunk 
 off." 
 
 ' Well, that strikes me as exaggerated," re- 
 marked Bambaeff. 'That she did say ' Be- 
 
 27
 
 SMOKE 
 
 gone! ' to him is a fact; but she did not slap his 
 face." 
 
 " She did slap his face, she did slap his face," 
 repeated Madame Sukhantchikoff, with convul- 
 sive intensity:" I don't talk nonsense. And 
 you are the friend of such people ! " 
 
 " Excuse me, excuse me, Matrona Semyo- 
 novna, I never asserted that Tenteleeff was an in- 
 timate friend of mine; I was speaking of Peli- 
 kanoff." 
 
 " Well, if it was n't Tenteleeff, it was some one 
 else: Mikhnyoff, for instance." 
 
 "What did he do?" asked Bambaeff, intimi- 
 dated in advance. 
 
 "What? Don't you really know? On the 
 Vosnesensky Prospekt, in the presence of every- 
 body, he shouted out that ajl liberals ought to 
 be in prison; and then an old boarding-school 
 comrade, a poor man, of course, comes up 
 to him, and says : * May I dine with you ? ' 
 But he answered him : * No, you cannot ; two 
 Counts are to dine with me to-day . . . . g' 
 'way!' 
 
 " But good gracious, that is a calumny! " clam- 
 oured Bambaeff. 
 
 "A calumny? ... a calumny? In the first 
 place, Prince Vakhriishkin, who also was dining 
 with your Mikhnyoff . . ." 
 
 " Prince Vakhrushkin," interposed Gubaryoff 
 sternly, "is my first cousin; but I will not re- 
 
 28
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ceive him. . . Consequently, there is no use of 
 mentioning him." 
 
 " In the second place," continued Madame 
 Sukhantchikoff, submissively inclining her head 
 in the direction of Gubaryoff: " Praskovya 
 Yakovlevna herself told me so." 
 
 "A fine person to allege as authority! She 
 and Sarkisoff are first-class inventors of tales." 
 
 ' Well, sir, you must excuse me; Sarkisoff is 
 a liar, that 's a fact, and that he pulled the brocade 
 pall off his dead father I will never deny; but 
 Praskovya Yakovlevna, what a comparison! 
 Recollect how nobly she separated from her hus- 
 band! But you, I know, are always ready 
 to " 
 
 " Come, that will do, that will do, Matrona 
 Semyonovna," Bambaeff interrupted her." Let 
 us drop this tittle-tattle and soar aloft. I 'm a 
 poker of ancient make, 1 you see. Have you read 
 ' M'lle de la Quintinie ' ? It 's charming I And 
 with exactly your principles! " 
 
 " I no longer read romances," replied Madame 
 Sukhantchikoff, drily and curtly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Because it is no time for such things; I 
 have only one thing in my head now sewing- 
 machines." 
 
 " What sort of machines? " inquired Litvmoff. 
 
 " Sewing-, sewing-machines; all women, all, 
 
 lAn old-fashioned man. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 29
 
 SMOKE 
 
 must supply themselves with sewing-machines, 
 and form a society ; in that way they will all earn 
 their living and will at once become independent. 
 Otherwise, they cannot possibly free themselves. 
 It is an important, an important social question. 
 Boleslaff Stadnitzky and I had such a dispute 
 about that. Boleslaff Stadnitzky has a wonder- 
 ful nature, but he looks on these things in a fright- 
 fully frivolous way. He does nothing but laugh. 
 . . . The fool!" ' 
 
 " All men will be summoned, in due season, to 
 an accounting all men will be held responsible," 
 remarked Gubaryoff slowly, in a partly dogmatic, 
 partly prophetic tone. 
 
 'Yes, yes," repeated Bambaeff: " they will 
 be held responsible exactly so, held responsible. 
 And how about your work, Stepan Nikolaitch," 
 he added, lowering his voice: "is it pro- 
 gressing? " 
 
 " I am collecting the materials," replied Guba- 
 ryoff, knitting his brows; and turning to Litvi- 
 noff, whose head was growing giddy with that 
 mess of names which were unfamiliar to him, 
 with that frenzy of gossip, asked him : with what 
 did he occupy himself? 
 
 Litvinoff satisfied his curiosity. 
 
 " Ah! that is to say with the natural sciences. 
 That is useful, as a school. As a school, not 
 as a goal. The goal now should be .... 
 mm . . . should be ... something else. Per- 
 
 30
 
 SMOKE 
 
 mit me to inquire, with what opinions do you take 
 sides?" 
 
 "What opinions?" 
 
 ' Yes ; that is to say, what are your political 
 convictions? " 
 
 Litvinoff smiled. 
 
 " I really have no political opinions whatever." 
 
 At these words the thick-set man, who was sit- 
 ting in the corner, suddenly raised his head, and 
 gazed attentively at Litvinoff. 
 
 " How so? " said Gubaryoff, with strange 
 gentleness. " Haven't you gone into the sub- 
 ject yet, or have you already grown tired of it? " 
 
 " How shall I explain it to you? It seems to 
 me that it is still too early for us Russians to have 
 political opinions, or to imagine that we have 
 them. Observe that I give to the word * political ' 
 the meaning which rightfully belongs to it, and 
 that 
 
 " Aha ! you 're one of the unripe ones," Guba- 
 ryoff interrupted him with the same gentleness, 
 and approaching Voroshiloff, he asked him: had 
 he read the pamphlet which he had given him? 
 
 Voroshiloff, who, to Litvinoff's surprise, had 
 not uttered the smallest word since his arrival, but 
 had merely scowled and rolled his eyes about (as 
 a rule he either orated or maintained complete 
 silence) , Voroshiloff thrust out his chest in mili- 
 tary fashion, and clicking his heels together, 
 nodded his head in the affirmative. 
 
 31
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Well, and what then? Were you pleased? " 
 
 " So far as the principal premises are con- 
 cerned, but I do not agree with the deductions." 
 
 " Mmm . . . but Andrei Ivanitch praised that 
 pamphlet to me very highly. You must state 
 your doubts to me later on." 
 
 Gubaryoff was evidently surprised : he had not 
 expected this ; but after reflecting briefly, he artic- 
 ulated : 
 
 " Yes, in writing. By the way, I will ask you 
 to state for me also your views .... as to ... 
 as to association." 
 
 " Would you like it after the method of Las- 
 salle, or of Schulze-Delitzsch? " 
 
 " Mmm . . . after both methods. You under- 
 stand that the financial side is especially impor- 
 tant for us Russians. Well, and the working- 
 men's union * as the kernel. . . All that must be 
 taken into consideration. It must be thoroughly 
 investigated. And there is the question of the 
 peasants' allotments. . ." 
 
 " And what is your opinion, Stepan Nikola- 
 itch, as to the suitable amount of desyatmas? " 
 inquired Voroshiloff, with respectful delicacy 
 in his voice. 
 
 " Mmm . . . And the commune? " said Gu- 
 baryoff with profundity, and gnawing a tuft of 
 
 1 The artdl, which represents workingmen united in voluntary, elas- 
 tic associations for the purpose of fulfilling contracts to advan- 
 tage, insuring trustworthiness, and so forth. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 32
 
 SMOKE 
 
 his beard he riveted his eyes on the leg of the table. 
 
 ' The commune. . . Do you understand? 
 That is a grand word! And then, what is the 
 meaning of these conflagrations .... these gov- 
 ernmental measures against Sunday-schools, 1 
 reading-rooms, newspapers? and, in conclusion, 
 that which is going on in Poland? Do you not see 
 to what all this is leading, that . . . mm . . . 
 that we . . . we must now fuse ourselves with the 
 people, must find out . . find out their opinion? " 
 Gubaryoff was suddenly seized with a painful, 
 almost malignant, agitation; he even turned a 
 greyish-brown hue in the face and breathed more 
 vehemently, but still he did not raise his eyes, and 
 continued to chew his beard. " Do you not 
 see ... ." 
 
 " Evseeff is a scoundrel! " suddenly blurted out 
 Madame Sukhantchikoff, to whom Bambaeff was 
 narrating something in an undertone, out of re- 
 spect for the host. Gubaryoff wheeled abruptly 
 round on his heels, and began again to hobble up 
 and down the room. 
 
 New guests began to make their appearance; 
 toward the end of the evening a considerable num- 
 ber of persons had assembled. Among them came 
 also Mr. Evseeff, who had been so harshly abused 
 by Madame Sukhantchikoff: she chatted with 
 
 1 For the instruction in the common branches of workingmen who 
 are occupied on week-days. As religion forms a prominent subject 
 in all school-courses in Russia, Sunday-schools in the Western sense 
 of the word are unnecessary. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 33
 
 SMOKE 
 
 him in a very friendly manner, and asked him to 
 escort her home; there came also a certain Pish- 
 tchalkin, an ideal arbitrator of the peace, 1 pre- 
 cisely one of those men of whom, possibly, Russia 
 is in need, namely narrow, badly educated and 
 untalented but conscientious, patient, and hon- 
 ourable; the peasants of his district almost wor- 
 shipped him, and he treated himself with extreme 
 respect as an individual truly worthy of homage. 
 There came also several young officers who had 
 run off on a brief leave of absence to Europe, 
 and were delighted at the opportunity, cautiously, 
 of course, and without banishing from their minds 
 a mental reservation about the regimental com- 
 mander, to indulge themselves with clever and 
 rather dangerous people; and two slender young 
 students had run over from Heidelberg : one kept 
 gazing scornfully about him, the other laughed 
 spasmodically . . and both were very ill at ease; 
 after them a Frenchman pushed his way in, a so- 
 called p'tit jeune homme: dirty, poor and stu- 
 pid . . he was famous among his comrades, who 
 were travelling salesmen, because Russian Coun- 
 tesses fell in love with him; but he himself was 
 more intent on a gratuitous supper; last of all, 
 Tit Bindasoff presented himself, with the aspect 
 of a noisy student, but in reality he was a cur- 
 mudgeon and a crafty fellow, in speech a terror- 
 
 1 An official appointed at the time of the emancipation of the serfs 
 to decide dissensions between them and the landed proprietors arising 
 out of the distribution of the land. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 34
 
 SMOKE 
 
 1st, by vocation a police-captain, the friend of 
 Russian merchants' wives and of Parisian cour- 
 tesans, bald, toothless, drunken; he presented 
 himself in a very crimson and evil state, asserting 
 that he had lost his last kopek to that " little rascal 
 Benazet," when, in reality, he had won sixteen 
 gulden. . . In a word, a great many persons as- 
 sembled. The respect with which all the visitors 
 treated Gubaryoff as a teacher or leader was re- 
 markabletruly remarkable; they expounded to 
 him their doubts, submitted them to his judg- 
 ment; but he replied . . with a bellow, by tug- 
 ging at his beard, by rolling his eyes, or by 
 fragmentary, insignificant words, which were im- 
 mediately caught up on the fly like utterances of 
 the loftiest wisdom. Gubaryoff himself rarely 
 joined in the discussion; on the other hand, the 
 rest zealously strained their chests. It hap- 
 pened more than once that three or four were 
 shouting simultaneously for the course of ten 
 minutes, but every one was satisfied and under- 
 stood. The conversation lasted until after mid- 
 night, and was distinguished, as usual, by the 
 abundance and the variety of subjects. Ma- 
 dame Sukhantchikoff talked about Garibaldi, 
 about some Karl Ivanovitch, who had been 
 flogged by his own house-serfs, about Napoleon 
 III., about female labour, about merchant Ples- 
 katchyoff, who, according to common know- 
 ledge, had starved twelve working-girls to 
 
 35
 
 SMOKE 
 
 death, and had, on that account, received a 
 medal with the inscription: " For a useful 
 deed " ; about the proletariat, about the Georgian 
 Prince Tchuktcheulidzeff , who had fired his wife 
 from a cannon, and about the future of Russia; 
 Pishtchalkin also talked about the future of Rus- 
 sia, about government monopolies, about the sig- 
 nificance of nationality, and about his detesting 
 commonplace things most of all ; Voroshiloff sud- 
 denly broke out: in one breath, and almost chok- 
 ing himself in the process, he mentioned Draper, 
 Virchow, Mr. Shelgunoff, Bichat, Helmholtz, 
 Stahr, Stuhr, Raymond, Johannes Miiller the 
 physiologist, Johannes Miiller the historian, evi- 
 dently confounding them, Taine, Renan, Mr. 
 Shtchapoff, and then Thomas Nash, Peel, 
 Greene. . . "What sort of birds are these?" 
 muttered Bambaeff in amazement. ' The prede- 
 cessors of Shakespeare, who bear to him the same 
 relation that the ramifications of the Alps bear 
 to Mont Blanc ! " replied Voroshiloff cuttingly, 
 and also touched upon the future of Russia. 
 Bambaeff, too, talked about the future of Rus- 
 sia, and even painted it in rainbow-tinted colours, 
 but was raised to special rapture by the thought 
 of Russian music, in which he beheld something 
 '' Ukh! great," and in confirmation he struck up 
 a romance by Varlamoff , but was speedily inter- 
 rupted by a unanimous shout to the effect : " He 's 
 singing the Miserere from * Trovatore,' and sing- 
 ing it very badly at that." One young officer, un- 
 
 36
 
 SMOKE 
 
 der cover of the uproar, reviled Russian litera- 
 ture, another quoted verses from the " Spark"; 
 but Tit Bindasoff behaved still more simply: he 
 announced that all those rascals ought to have 
 their teeth knocked out and enough said! with- 
 out, however, specifying who those rascals were. 
 The cigar-smoke became stifling; every one was 
 heated and languid, all had grown hoarse, every 
 one's eyes had grown dim, the perspiration was 
 coursing in streams from every face. Bottles of 
 cold beer made their appearance, and were in- 
 stantly emptied. ' What the deuce was it I 
 was saying?" insisted one; "and whom and 
 about what have I just been talking? " inquired 
 another. And in the midst of all this tumult 
 and smoke-laden atmosphere Gubaryoff strode 
 about untiringly, waddling and ruffling his 
 beard as before, now listening, with ear inclined, 
 to some one's argument, again putting in a word 
 of his own, and every one involuntarily felt that 
 he, Gubaryoff, was the matrix of the whole af- 
 fair, that he was the master and chief personage 
 there. . . . 
 
 About ten o'clock Litvinoff' s head began to 
 ache violently, and he quietly withdrew, availing 
 himself of a recrudescence of the general clam- 
 our: Madame SukhantchikofF had recalled an- 
 other piece of injustice on the part of Prince 
 Barnauloff: he had practically ordered some 
 one's ear to be bitten off. 
 
 The fresh night air clung caressingly to Lit- 
 37
 
 SMOKE 
 
 vinoff' s inflamed face, and flowed in a fragrant 
 flood between his parched lips. ' What is it? " he 
 said to himself, as he strolled along the dark ave- 
 nue: " what sort of a thing was it that I was pres- 
 ent at? Why did they meet together? Why did 
 they shout and quarrel, why did they get so ex- 
 cited? What's the use of it all?" Litvmoff 
 shrugged his shoulders, and betook himself to 
 Weber's, picked up a newspaper and ordered an 
 ice. The newspaper discussed the Roman ques- 
 tion, and the ice turned out to be bad. He was on 
 the point of going home, when suddenly there 
 stepped up to him a stranger in a broad-brimmed 
 hat, who, remarking in Russian, " I hope I do 
 not disturb you? " seated himself at his little table. 
 Then only did Litvmoff, on gazing more atten- 
 tively at the stranger, recognise in him the thick- 
 set man who had hidden himself in the corner at 
 Gubaryoff's and had scrutinised him with so much 
 attention when the conversation turned on politi- 
 cal convictions. During the whole course of the 
 evening that gentleman had not opened his 
 mouth, and now, having seated himself beside 
 Litvinoff and removed his hat, he gazed at him 
 with a friendly and somewhat embarrassed look. 
 
 38
 
 " MR. GUBARYOFF, at whose house I had the 
 pleasure of seeing you to-day," he began, " did 
 not introduce me to you ; so, if you will permit me, 
 I will introduce myself: Potugin, retired court 
 councillor, served in the Ministry of Finance, in 
 St. Petersburg. I hope that you will not think it 
 strange. . I am not generally in the habit of mak- 
 ing acquaintance so quickly, . . but with you . . ." 
 
 Here Potugin began to stammer, and asked a 
 waiter to bring him a glass of cherry cordial. 
 ' To give me courage," he added, with a smile. 
 
 Litvinoff gazed with redoubled attention at 
 this last one of all the new persons with whom it 
 had been his lot to come in contact that day, and 
 immediately said to himself: " This man is not 
 like those others." 
 
 And, in fact, he was not. Before him, running 
 his slender fingers along the edge of the table, 
 sat a broad-shouldered man, with an ample body 
 mounted on short legs, a drooping, curly head, 
 very clever and very melancholy little eyes be- 
 neath thick eyebrows, a large, regular mouth, 
 poor teeth, and that purely Russian nose to which 
 the name of " potato " has been appropriated ; 
 
 39
 
 SMOKE 
 
 a man with an awkward and even a rather wild, 
 but assuredly not a commonplace, aspect. He 
 was negligently dressed: an old-fashioned coat 
 sat on him like a bag, and his necktie had got 
 twisted to one side. His sudden confidence not 
 only did not impress Litvinoff as an intrusion, 
 but, on the contrary, secretly flattered him : it was 
 impossible not to perceive that this man was not 
 in the habit of forcing himself upon strangers. 
 He produced a strange impression upon Litvi- 
 noff: he evoked in him both respect and sympa- 
 thy, and a certain involuntary pity. 
 
 " So I do not disturb you? " he repeated in a 
 soft, rather hoarse and feeble voice, which suited 
 his whole figure to perfection. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Litvinoff;" on the 
 contrary, I am very glad." 
 
 " Really? Well, then, I am glad too. I have 
 heard a great deal about you; I know what you 
 are occupying yourself with and what your inten- 
 tions are. 'T is a good occupation. That is the 
 reason you were taciturn to-day, by the way." 
 
 ' Yes, and it strikes me that you had very little 
 to say also," remarked Litvinoff. 
 
 Potiigin sighed. 
 
 ' The others argued a very great deal, sir. I 
 listened. Well," he added, after a brief pause, 
 and setting his brows in rather comical fashion, 
 
 " were you pleased with our babel of an up- 
 roar?" 
 
 40
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " It was a regular babel. That was extremely 
 well said on your part. I kept wanting to ask 
 those gentlemen why they were making such a 
 fuss." 
 
 Again Potiigin sighed. 
 
 ' That 's precisely the point, that they don't 
 know themselves, sir. In former times people 
 would have expressed themselves about them in 
 this manner : ' They are the blind instruments of 
 the highest aims ' ; well, but nowadays we employ 
 harsher epithets. And observe that I myself have 
 not the slightest intention of condemning them ; I 
 will say more, they are all . . that is, almost all, 
 very fine people. I know a great deal that is 
 good about Madame Sukhantchikoff, for exam- 
 ple: she gave her last penny to two poor nieces. 
 Let us assume that the motive there was a desire 
 to show off, to brag, yet you must admit that it 
 was a noteworthy bit of self-sacrifice on the part 
 of a woman who is not wealthy herself! About 
 Mr. Pishtchalkin it is unnecessary to speak: in 
 due time the peasants of his district will infallibly 
 present him with a silver cup in the shape of a 
 watermelon, and possibly a holy image with the 
 picture of his guardian angel, and although he 
 will tell them in his speech of thanks that he does 
 not deserve such an honour, he will be telling an 
 untruth: he does deserve it. Your friend, Mr. 
 Bambaeff, has a splendid heart; it is true that, 
 with him, as with the poet Yazykoff, who, they 
 
 41
 
 SMOKE 
 
 say, extolled debauchery while he sat over a 
 book and drank water, enthusiasm is really not 
 directed at anything, but it is enthusiasm, never- 
 theless; and Mr. Voroshiloff is extremely kind 
 also ; he is like all the men of his school, the men 
 of the gilded classes, who seem to be sent expressly 
 as orderlies to science, to civilisation ; and he even 
 holds his tongue pompously: but he is so young 
 still! Yes, yes, they are all excellent people, but 
 the sum total is nothing; the provisions are first- 
 class, but the dish is n't fit to put in your 
 mouth!" 
 
 Litvmoif listened to Potugin with increasing 
 amazement: all his ways, all the turns of his de- 
 liberate, but self-confident speech, revealed both 
 understanding and the desire to talk. 
 
 Potugin, in fact, both liked and understood 
 how to talk ; but, as a man out of whom life had 
 already succeeded in eliminating conceit, he 
 awaited with philosophical composure his oppor- 
 tunity, an encounter after his own heart. 
 
 ' Yes, yes," he began again, with a humour not 
 sickly, but sad, which was peculiarly characteris- 
 tic of him: " all that is very strange, sir. And 
 here is another thing which I will beg you to note. 
 When ten Englishmen, for example, come to- 
 gether, they immediately begin to discuss the sub- 
 marine telegraph, the tax on paper, the process of 
 dressing rats' skins, that is to say, something 
 positive, something definite; let ten Germans 
 
 42
 
 SMOKE 
 
 come together, well, there, of course, Schleswig- 
 Holstein and the unity of Germany make their 
 appearance on the scene; if ten Frenchmen as- 
 semble the conversation will infallibly touch on 
 * piquant adventures,' let them evade it as they 
 will ; but when ten Russians get together the ques- 
 tion instantly arises, you have had an opportu- 
 nity to-day of convincing yourself on that point, 
 
 the question as to the significance, the future 
 of Russia, and that in just such general terms, 
 beginning with Leda's eggs, insusceptible of 
 proof, without any issue. They chew and chew 
 on that question, as a small child does on a piece 
 of india rubber: there 's no juice or sense in it. 
 Well, and, by the way, of course the rotten West 
 catches it also. A pretty preachment, as you can 
 imagine! it beats us at every point, that West 
 but it 's rotten ! And even if we did really despise 
 it," continued Potugin: " nevertheless, all that 
 is mere phrase-making and lies. We certainly do 
 revile it, but its opinion is the only one we value 
 
 that is to say, the opinion of Parisian cox- 
 combs. I have an acquaintance, and a very nice 
 sort of man he is, apparently, the father of a 
 family, and no longer young; and that man was 
 in a state of depression for several days because 
 he had ordered une portion de biftek auoc pommes 
 de terre., while a real Frenchman immediately 
 shouted out: 'Garpon! biftek pommes!' My friend 
 was consumed with shame! And afterward he 
 
 43
 
 SMOKE 
 
 shouted everywhere : f Biftek pommes! ' and 
 taught others. The very courtesans are as- 
 tounded at the devout tremor wherewith our 
 young fellows from the steppes enter their igno- 
 minious drawing-rooms. . . ' Good heavens ! ' 
 they say to themselves, ' am I really here? At 
 Annah Deslions ! ' 
 
 " Please tell me," inquired Litvinoff, " to what 
 do you ascribe the indubitable influence of Guba- 
 ryoff on all the people around him? Not to his 
 gifts or to his capacities? " 
 
 " No, sir; no, sir ; he has nothing of that sort. . ." 
 
 ;< To his character, then? " 
 
 " He has not that either, but he has a great deal 
 of will, sir. We Slavonians in general, as is well 
 known, are not rich in that attribute, and we give 
 up in presence of it. Mr. Gubaryoff desired to 
 be a leader, and every one has recognised him as 
 a leader. What would you have done about it? 
 The government has released us from serfdom, 
 and we thank it; but the habits of serfdom have 
 taken too profound a root in us ; we shall not soon 
 rid ourselves of them. In everything and every- 
 where we want a master; this master, in the ma- 
 jority of cases, is a vivacious individual; some- 
 times some so-called tendency acquires a power 
 over us ... now, for example, we have all bound 
 ourselves as slaves to the natural sciences. . . 
 Why, by virtue of what reasons, we enroll our- 
 selves as slaves, is an obscure matter; evidently 
 
 44
 
 such is our nature. But the principal point is 
 that we should possess a master. Well, and there 
 we have him ; that means he is ours, and we don't 
 care a copper about the rest! Purely bondmen! 
 Both the pride of the bondman and the humilia- 
 tion of the bondman. A new master has come 
 into existence away with the old one ! The other 
 was named Yakoff, this one is called Sidor; give 
 YakofF a box on the ears, fall at the feet of Sidor ! 
 Recollect how many tricks of that sort have taken 
 place among us ! We prattle about renunciation 
 as our distinguishing characteristic ; but we do not 
 exercise renunciation like a free man w r ho smites 
 with his sword, but like a lackey, who administers 
 a thrashing with his fist, and, what is more, admin- 
 isters a thrashing at his master's behest. Well, 
 sir, and we are also a soft race; it is not difficult 
 to keep a tight hand over us. And that 's the way 
 Mr. GubaryofF has come to be a master ; he ham- 
 mered and hammered away at one point until he 
 attained his object. People perceive that a man 
 has a great opinion of himself, believes in himself, 
 issues orders the principal thing is to issue or- 
 ders; they conclude that he is right and that he 
 must be obeyed. All our sectarians, our sects 
 of Omiphry and of Akulfna, 1 had their origin in 
 
 1 Oniifry the founder of the priestless sect of the Old Ritual- 
 ists: born 1829. Akulfna Ivanovna was the name of three of the 
 so-called Birthgivers of God (Madonnas) in the Scourgers' and 
 Skoptzy sects. Hence, one heresy received from them the appella- 
 tion of " Akulinovshtchina." TRANSLATOR. 
 
 45
 
 SMOKE 
 
 precisely this manner. He who has seized the 
 staff is the commander." 
 
 Potiigin's cheeks had flushed crimson and his 
 eyes had grown dim; but, strange to say, his 
 speech, bitter and even malicious though it was, 
 did not smack of gall, but rather of sadness, and 
 upright, genuine sadness at that. 
 
 " How did you become acquainted with Guba- 
 ryoff? " inquired Litvinoff. 
 
 " I have known him for a long time, sir. And 
 observe another queer thing about us: a man 
 for instance, an author possibly has been revil- 
 ing drunkenness all his life, in verse and in prose, 
 and upbraiding . . . and, all of a sudden, he takes 
 and buys two distilleries himself and leases a hun- 
 dred dram-shops and it's nothing! People 
 would wipe another man off the face of the earth, 
 but they do not even reproach him. Now there 's 
 Mr. GubaryofF : he 's a Slavophil, and a demo- 
 crat, and a socialist, and anything else you like, 
 but his estate always has been managed and is still 
 managed by his brother, a master of the ancient 
 type, one of the sort who were called ' Danteists.' 
 And that same Madame Sukhantchikoff, who 
 represents Mrs. Beecher Stowe as slapping Ten- 
 teleeff's face, almost crawls before Gubaryoff. 
 But, you know, the only thing about him is that 
 he reads clever books and is forever trying to get 
 down into the depths. As to his gift of language, 
 you have been able to judge for yourself to-day; 
 
 46
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and thank God, too, that he says but little, and 
 only writhes all the time. Because, when he is 
 in the mood and lets himself go freely, then it is 
 more than even I, a long-suffering man, can tol- 
 erate. He begins to banter and to narrate filthy 
 anecdotes, yes, yes, our great Mr. Gubaryoff 
 narrates filthy anecdotes and laughs so abomina- 
 bly the while 
 
 " Are you really so long-suffering? " said Lit- 
 vinoff. " I should have supposed the contrary. 
 . . . But permit me to inquire, what is your name 
 and your patronymic? " 
 
 Potugin sipped a little of the cherry cordial. 
 
 " My name is Sozont . . Sozont Ivanitch. 
 They gave me that very beautiful name in honour 
 of a relative, an Archimandrite, to whom I am 
 indebted for this alone. I am of the ecclesiastical 
 race, if I may be allowed to express myself thus. 
 And you make a mistake in doubting that I am 
 patient: I am patient. I served for two and 
 twenty years under my uncle, actual state coun- 
 cillor Irinarkh Potugin. You did not know 
 him?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I congratulate you on that. No, I am pa- 
 tient. But ' let us return to the first point,' as 
 my colleague, the burnt-alive Archpriest Avak- 
 kum * was accustomed to say. I am amazed, my 
 
 1 Ava"kkum Petrdvitch, an ardent preacher of the doctrines of the 
 Old Ritualists, who refused to accept the corrections (typo- 
 graphical and other) made in the Scriptures and Church Service 
 
 47
 
 SMOKE 
 
 dear sir, at my fellow-countrymen. They are all 
 low-spirited, they all go about in a dejected way, 
 and, at the same time, they are all filled with hope, 
 and at the slightest excuse they fairly go mad. 
 Now take the Slavophils, among whom Mr. 
 Gubaryoff reckons himself: they are very fine 
 people, but there 's the same mixture of despair 
 and irritation, and they also live in the future. 
 It 's all coming, it 's coming, they say. There 's 
 nothing in hand at the present moment, and Rus- 
 sia, in the course of ten whole centuries, has never 
 worked out a single thing of her own, neither in 
 government, nor in courts of justice, nor in sci- 
 ence, nor in art, nor even in the handicrafts. . . 
 But wait; have patience: everything will come. 
 And why will it come, allow me to inquire? 
 Because, forsooth, we are pultured people, 
 stuff and nonsense; but the people . . oh, it 's 
 a grand people! Do you see that peasant coat? 
 that 's what all will proceed from. All the 
 other idols have been smashed; but let us have 
 faith in the peasant coat. Well, and what 
 if the peasant coat betrays you? No, it will not 
 betray; read Madame Ivokhanovsky, 1 and roll 
 your eyes up to the ceiling ! Really, if I were an 
 
 books in the reign of Peter the Great's father. Avdkkum was 
 forced to become a monk, banished to Siberia, brought back to 
 Moscow, imprisoned, and eventually banished again to Pust6zersk, 
 Arkhangel Government. For his persistent heretical propaganda 
 he and his companions were burned alive in 1681. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 'Nadezhda Stepanovna Sokha"nsky (1825-1884), who wrote un- 
 der the name of " Kokhan6vsky." TRANSLATOR. 
 
 48
 
 SMOKE 
 
 artist this is the sort of a picture I would paint : 
 a cultivated man is standing in front of a peasant 
 and bowing low to him : ' Heal me, my dear peas- 
 ant, says he, ' I am perishing with disease ' ; but 
 the peasant, in his turn, bows low before the edu- 
 cated man. * Please teach me, dear master,' says 
 he, ' I am perishing with ignorance.' Well, and 
 of course both of them stick right where they are. 
 But all that is needed is really to become humble, 
 not in words alone, and adopt from our elder 
 brothers that which they have invented better 
 than we and earlier than we! Waiter, another 
 glass of cherry cordial ! You must not think that 
 I am a drunkard, but alcohol loosens my tongue." 
 " After what you have just said," observed Lit- 
 vinoff, with a smile," it is not worth while for 
 me to ask to what party you belong and what 
 opinion you hold concerning Europe. But per- 
 mit me to make one remark. Here you say that 
 we ought to borrow, to adopt from our elder 
 brothers; but how can we adopt without taking 
 into consideration the conditions of climate and 
 soil, with local and national peculiarities? I re- 
 member that my father ordered from Butenop's 
 foundry a splendidly recommended winnowing- 
 machine ; the winnowing-machine really was very 
 good. But what happened? For five whole years 
 it stood in the shed utterly useless, until it was re- 
 placed by a wooden American machine, which 
 was much better suited to our manner of life and 
 
 49
 
 SMOKE 
 
 to our habits, as American machines are, in gen- 
 eral. It is impossible to adopt things at hap- 
 hazard, Sozont Ivanitch." 
 
 Potugin raised his head a little. 
 
 " I did not expect that sort of retort from you, 
 most respected Grigory Mikhailitch," he be- 
 gan, after a brief pause. " And who forces you 
 to adopt at haphazard? Surely you take a for- 
 eign thing not because it is foreign, but because 
 you find it suitable : consequently, you do take the 
 circumstances into consideration, you do make a 
 selection. And so far as the results are concerned, 
 pray do not disturb yourself: they will be orig- 
 inal by virtue of precisely those local, climatic and 
 other conditions to which you allude. All you 
 have to do is to offer good food, and the natural 
 stomach will digest it after ita own fashion ; and, 
 in course of time, when the organism shall have 
 gained strength, it will yield its own sap. Just 
 take our language as an example. Peter the 
 Great deluged it with thousands of foreign words 
 Dutch, French, and German: those words ex- 
 pressed conceptions with which it was necessary 
 to make the Russian nation acquainted; without 
 philosophising, and without standing on cere- 
 mony, Peter poured those words wholesale, by 
 the bucketful, by the cask, into our bosom. At 
 first, it is true, the result was something mon- 
 strous, but later on precisely that digestive pro- 
 cess set in which I have mentioned to you. The 
 
 50
 
 SMOKE 
 
 conceptions became grafted on and appropriated ; 
 the foreign forms gradually evaporated; the lan- 
 guage found in its own bosom the wherewithal to 
 replace them and now, your humble servant, a 
 very mediocre master of style, will undertake to 
 translate any page you please from Hegel, yes, 
 sir; yes, sir; from Hegel, without making use 
 of a single non- Slavonic word. That which has 
 taken place with the language will, it is to be 
 hoped, take place in other spheres. The whole 
 question lies here is nature strong? But our na- 
 ture is all right ; it will stand the strain : that 's not 
 where the great difficulty lies. Only nervous in- 
 valids and weak nations can fear for their health, 
 for their independence; and just so, only idle 
 people are capable of going into raptures until 
 they foam at the mouth, because, forsooth, we are 
 Russians, say they. I am very solicitous about 
 my health, but I don't go into raptures over it: 
 I 'm ashamed to, sir." 
 
 " All that is true, Sozont Ivanitch," began Lit- 
 vinoff in his turn: " but why must we, inevita- 
 bly, be subjected to such tests? You say yourself 
 that the first result was something monstrous! 
 Well and what if that monstrous thing had re- 
 mained monstrous? And it has remained so; you 
 know it has." 
 
 " But not in the language and that means a 
 great deal! But I did not make our nation; I 
 am not to blame if it is fated to pass through such 
 
 51 _
 
 SMOKE 
 
 a school. ' The Germans were developed regu- 
 larly,' cry the Slavophils : ' give us regular devel- 
 opment also ! ' But where is one to get it when 
 the very first historical action of our tribe sum- 
 moning to themselves princes from over-seais 
 an irregularity to start with, an anomaly which 
 is repeated in every one of us, down to the present 
 day ; every one of us, at least once in his life, has 
 infallibly said to something foreign, non-Russian : 
 ' Come, exercise authority and reign over me! '- 
 I am ready, if you like, to admit that, when we 
 introduce a foreign substance into our own body, 
 we cannot, by any means, know with certainty 
 beforehand what it is we are introducing : a bit of 
 bread or a bit of poison; for, assuredly, it is a 
 familiar fact that you never pass from bad to 
 good through better, but always through worse 
 and poison is useful in medicine. Only dolts or 
 sharpers can decently point with triumph at the 
 poverty of the peasants after the Emancipation, 
 at their increased drunkenness after the abroga- 
 tion of the liquor monopoly. . . . Through worse 
 to good! " 
 
 Potugin passed his hand over his face. 
 
 " You asked me my opinion concerning Eu- 
 rope," he began again:" I am amazed at it and 
 devoted to its principles to the last degree, and 
 do not consider it necessary to conceal the fact. 
 For a long time . . no, not for a long time . . 
 for some time past I have ceased to be afraid to 
 
 52
 
 SMOKE 
 
 give utterance to my convictions . . . even you, 
 you see, did not hesitate to announce to Guba- 
 ryoff your mode of thought. I, thank God, have 
 ceased to conform to the ideas, the views, the 
 habits of the man with whom I am conversing. 
 In reality, I know of nothing worse than that 
 useless cowardice, that base-spirited willingness 
 to please by virtue of which, as you see, one of 
 our grave dignitaries humours some little student 
 who is of no account in his eyes, almost sports 
 with him, runs after him like a hare. Well, let 
 us assume that the dignitary behaves in this man- 
 ner out of a desire for popularity; but why 
 should plebeians like me shift and shuffle? Yes, 
 sir, yes, sir, I am an Occidentalist, I am devoted 
 to Europe that is, to speak more accurately, I 
 am devoted to culture, to that same culture at 
 which people so charmingly jeer nowadays in our 
 country, to civilisation yes, yes, that word is 
 even better, and I love it with all my heart, and I 
 believe in it, and I have not and never shall have 
 any other faith. That 's the word : ci . . . vi . . . li- 
 ... sa ... tion " (Potugin pronounced each syl- 
 lable distinctly with emphasis) ; "it is intelligi- 
 ble, and pure, and holy, but all the others, 
 whether it be nationality, or glory, smell of 
 blood. . . I want nothing to do with them ! " 
 
 " Well, but, Sozont Ivanitch, you love Russia, 
 your native land? " 
 
 Potugin passed his hand over his face. 
 
 53
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " I love it passionately, and I hate it passion- 
 ately." 
 
 LitvinofF shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " That 's old, Sozont Ivanitch, that 's a com- 
 monplace." 
 
 " Well, what of that? What 's the harm? A 
 pretty thing to take fright at! A commonplace! 
 I know many fine commonplaces ! Here now, for 
 example: liberty and order that's a familiar 
 commonplace. Is it better, in your opinion, to 
 have, as with us, servility and disorder? And, 
 moreover, are all those phrases wherewith so many 
 young heads become intoxicated: the despised 
 bourgeoisie, souverainete du peuple., the right to 
 labor, are not they also commonplaces? And 
 how about love, inseparable from hatred? . ." 
 
 " Byronism," interrupted Litvinoff : " ro- 
 manticism of the '30 's." 
 
 ' You are mistaken, excuse me ; Catullus, the 
 Roman poet Catullus, was the first to point out 
 that blending of sentiments, two thousand years 
 ago. 1 I learned that by reading him, because 
 I know something of Latin, in consequence of my 
 ecclesiastical extraction, if I may venture so to 
 express myself. Yes, sir, I both love and hate my 
 Russia, my strange, dear, dreadful, beloved fa- 
 therland. Now I have abandoned it; I had to 
 air myself a bit, after sitting for twelve years at 
 
 lOdi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse, requiris? 
 Nescio: sed fieri sentio et excrucior. 
 
 Catullus, LXXXVI. 
 
 54
 
 SMOKE 
 
 a government desk, in a government building ; I 
 have abandoned Russia, and I find it agreeable 
 and jolly here; but I shall soon return, I feel it. 
 Garden soil is good but cloudberries will not 
 grow on it! " 
 
 ' You find it pleasant and jolly, and I am at 
 ease here," said Litvinoff. " And I came hither 
 to study; but that does not prevent my seeing 
 such little pranks as that. . ." He pointed to two 
 passing courtesans, around whom several mem- 
 bers of the Jockey Club were grimacing and lisp- 
 ing, and at the gambling-hall, which was packed 
 full, in spite of the late hour. 
 
 " But who told you that I was blind to that? " 
 retorted Potiigin. " Only, pardon me, but your 
 remark reminds me of the triumphant way our 
 unhappy journalists had of pointing, during the 
 Crimean campaign, to the defects of the English 
 military administration, revealed in the Times. I 
 am not an optimist myself, and everything that 
 pertains to man, all our life, that entire comedy 
 with a tragic ending, does not present itself to me 
 in a rosy light ; but why tax the Occident, in par- 
 ticular, with that which, possibly, has its root in 
 our human essence itself? That gambling-house 
 is repulsive, it is true ; well, but is our home-bred 
 knavery, perchance, any the more beautiful? No, 
 my dear Grigory Mikhailovitch, let us be more 
 humble and more quiet; a good pupil perceives 
 the errors of his teacher, but he respectfully holds 
 
 55
 
 SMOKE 
 
 his peace about them; for those very errors are 
 of service to him, and direct him in the right way. 
 But if you insist upon gossiping about the rotten 
 West, here comes Prince Koko at a jog-trot; he 
 has, probably, dropped at the gaming-table in a 
 quarter of an hour the toil-won, extorted quit- 
 rents of a hundred and fifty families, his nerves 
 are unstrung, and, moreover, I saw him to-day at 
 Marks's, turning over the pages of Veuillot's 
 pamphlet. . He '11 be a capital companion for 
 you!" 
 
 " But pardon me, pardon me," said Litvinoff 
 hastily, perceiving that Potugin was rising from 
 his seat. " My acquaintance with Prince Koko 
 is very slight, and then, of course, I prefer con- 
 versation with you. . ." 
 
 " I am greatly indebted to you," said Potugin, 
 rising and bowing his farewell; "but I have 
 been conversing with you a pretty long time as it 
 is that is, strictly speaking, I have been doing all 
 the talking myself, while you, probably, have ob- 
 served from your own experience that a man al- 
 ways feels conscience-stricken somehow and un- 
 comfortable when he has been talking a great deal 
 all alone. Especially so when it happens at a 
 first meeting : as much as to say, ' Look at me, 
 that 's the sort of man I am ! ' Farewell until our 
 next pleasant meeting. . . And I, I repeat it, 
 am very glad at having made your acquaintance." 
 
 " But wait a bit, Sozont Ivanitch ; tell me, at 
 56
 
 SMOKE 
 
 least, where you are living, and whether you in- 
 tend to remain here long." 
 
 Potiigin seemed to wince a little. 
 
 " I shall remain about a week longer in Baden, 
 but we can meet each other here, or at Weber's, 
 or at Marks's. Or I will go to you." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I must know your address." 
 
 ' Yes. But this is the point: I am not alone." 
 
 ' You are married? " asked LitvfnoiF abruptly. 
 
 " Good gracious, no. . . Why talk so ab- 
 surdly? . . But I have a young girl with me." 
 
 " Ah! " ejaculated Litvmoff, with a shrug, as 
 though apologising, and dropped his eyes. 
 
 " She is only six years old," went on Potiigin. 
 
 " She is an orphan, . . the daughter of a lady 
 . . of one of my good friends. Really, we had 
 better meet here. Good-bye, sir." 
 
 He pulled his hat down over his curly head and 
 walked rapidly away, appearing for an instant 
 a couple of times under the gas-jets, which cast 
 a rather scanty light upon the road which led to 
 Lichtenthal Avenue. 
 
 57
 
 VI 
 
 " A STRANGE man!" said Litvinoff to himself, as 
 he wended his way to the hotel where he was stop- 
 ping: "a strange man! I must hunt him up." 
 He entered his room ; a letter on the table caught 
 his eye. "Ah! from Tanya!" he thought, and 
 rejoiced in advance; but the letter was from his 
 father in the country. Litvinoff broke the large 
 heraldic seal and was about to begin reading. . A 
 powerful, very agreeable, and familiar odour at- 
 tracted his attention. He glanced about him, and 
 perceived on the window-sill,, in a glass of water, 
 a large bouquet of fresh heliotropes. Litvinoff 
 bent over them, not without surprise, touched 
 them, smelled them. . . Some memory seemed to 
 recur to him, something very remote, . . but pre- 
 cisely what he could not imagine. He rang for 
 a servant and asked him whence the flowers had 
 come. The servant replied that they had been 
 brought by a lady, who would not give her name, 
 but had said that he, " Herr Zluitenhoff," would 
 be sure to divine who she was from the flowers 
 themselves. . . Again Litvinoff caught a glimpse 
 of some memory. . . He asked the servant what 
 was the appearance of the lady? The servant ex- 
 
 58
 
 SMOKE 
 
 plained that she was tall and very well dressed, 
 but wore a veil over her face. 
 
 " Probably a Russian Countess," he added. 
 
 ' Why do you assume that? " inquired Litvi- 
 noff. 
 
 " She gave me two gulden," replied the servant, 
 with a grin. 
 
 Litvinoff sent him away, and for a long time 
 thereafter stood before the window immersed in 
 thought ; but at last he waved his hand in despair, 
 and again took up the letter from the country. 
 In it his father poured forth his habitual com- 
 plaints, asserted that no one would take the grain 
 even as a gift, that the people had grown utterly 
 unruly, and that, in all probability, the end of the 
 world was at hand. " Just imagine," he wrote, 
 by the way, " my last coachman, that little Kal- 
 myk, you remember? has been bewitched, and the 
 man would infallibly have perished and there 
 would have been no one to drive me, but, luckily, 
 some kind people gave me a hint and advised me 
 to send the sick man off to Ryazan, to a priest who 
 is a well-known expert in dealing with spells ; and 
 the treatment actually succeeded to perfection, in 
 confirmation whereof I enclose the letter of the 
 father himself, by way of document." Litvinoff 
 ran his eye over this " document " with curiosity. 
 It contained the statement that " the house- 
 servant, Nikanor Dmitrieff , was afflicted with a 
 malady which medical science could not reach; 
 
 59
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and this malady was caused by malevolent per- 
 sons ; but the cause of it was Nikanor himself, for 
 he had not fulfilled his promise to a certain 
 maiden, hence she, through these persons, had ren- 
 dered him unfit for anything, and if I had not 
 been his helper, under these circumstances he must 
 have perished utterly, like a cabbage-worm ; but I, 
 trusting in the All-seeing Eye, constituted my- 
 self his prop in life ; and how I accomplished this 
 is a secret; and I request Your Weil-Born that 
 henceforth that maiden may not occupy herself 
 with those evil attributes, and it would even do no 
 harm to threaten her, otherwise she may exercise 
 a maleficent influence over him again." Litvinoff 
 fell into thought over this document; it exhaled 
 upon him a breath of the wilds of the steppe, the 
 impassive gloom of stagnating life, and it seemed 
 marvellous to him that he should have read that 
 letter precisely in Baden. In the meantime, mid- 
 night had long since struck; Litvinoff went to 
 bed and blew out his candle. But he could not 
 get to sleep; the faces he had seen, the speeches 
 he had heard, kept whirling and circling, 
 strangely interweaving and mixing themselves in 
 his burning head, which was aching with the 
 tobacco-smoke. Now he seemed to hear Gu- 
 baryoff's bellow, and his downcast eyes, with 
 their stupid, obstinate gaze, presented them- 
 selves; then, all of a sudden, those same eyes 
 began to blaze and leap, and he recognised 
 
 GO
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Madame Sukhantchikoff, heard her sharp voice, 
 and, involuntarily, in a whisper, repeated after 
 her: "She did slap his face, she did!" then 
 the shambling figure of Potiigin moved for- 
 ward before him, and for the tenth, the twentieth 
 time, he recalled his every word ; then, like a pup- 
 pet from a snuff-box, Voroshfloff sprang for- 
 ward in his brand-new paletot, which fitted him 
 like a new uniform, and Pishtchalkin wisely and 
 gravely nodded his capitally -barbered and really 
 well-intentioned head ; and Bindasoff bawled and 
 reviled, and Bambaeff went into tearful raptures. 
 . . . But the chief thing was : that perfume, that 
 importunate, insistent, sweet, heavy perfume, 
 gave him no rest, and was exhaled with ever- 
 increasing power in the darkness, and ever more 
 persistently reminded him of something which he 
 vainly endeavoured to grasp. . . It occurred to 
 Litvmoff that the odour of flowers was injurious 
 to the health at night in a bed-chamber, and he 
 rose, felt his way to the bouquet, and carried it 
 out into the adjoining room; but the insufferable 
 fragrance penetrated to his pillow, under his cov- 
 erlet, even from that point, and he tossed sadly 
 from side to side. Fever was beginning to lay 
 hold upon him; the priest, "the expert in deal- 
 ing with spells," had already twice run across 
 his path in the shape of a very nimble hare with 
 a beard, and Voroshfloff, squatting in a Gen- 
 eral's plume, as in a bush, was beginning to trill 
 
 61
 
 SMOKE 
 
 like a nightingale before him . . . when, all 
 of a sudden, he sat up in bed, and clasping his 
 hands, exclaimed: " Is it possible that it is she? 
 It cannot be ! " 
 
 But in order to explain this exclamation of Lit- 
 vinoff, we must ask the indulgent reader to go 
 back several years with us. 
 
 62
 
 VII 
 
 AT the beginning of the '50's there resided in 
 Moscow, in very straitened circumstances, almost 
 in poverty, the numerous family of the Princes 
 Osinin. They were genuine, not Tatar-Geor- 
 gian, but pure-blooded princes, descendants of 
 Rurik; their name is frequently met with in our 
 Chronicles under the first Grand Princes of Mos- 
 cow, the collectors of the Russian land ; they pos- 
 sessed extensive patrimonial estates and domains, 
 had been repeatedly rewarded for " toils, and 
 blood, and wounds," had sat in the Council of the 
 boyars; one of them even wrote his name with 
 " vitch " ; 1 but had fallen into disgrace through 
 the conspiracy of enemies for " witchcraft and 
 knowledge of roots " ; they were ruined " terribly 
 and completely" ; they were deprived of their hon- 
 ours, and banished to parts remote; the Osinins 
 crumbled away, and never recovered themselves, 
 never again attained to power ; the decree of ban- 
 ishment was removed from them, in course of 
 time, and their " Moscow homestead " and their 
 " chattels " were even restored to them, but noth- 
 ing was of any avail. Their race had become im- 
 
 l Formerly a sign of blood-royal. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 03
 
 poverished, had " withered away "it did not rise 
 either under Peter or under Katherine, and be- 
 coming constantly more insignificant and re- 
 duced, it counted among its members private 
 stewards, managers of liquor counting-houses, 
 and police-captains. The family of the Osinins 
 to which we have alluded consisted of husband, 
 wife and five children. They lived near the Dogs' 
 Square, in a tiny, one-story wooden house, with a 
 striped principal porch opening on the street, 
 green lions on the gates, and other devices apper- 
 taining to the nobility, and barely made the two 
 ends meet, running into debt at the greengrocer's 
 shop, and frequently going without fuel and 
 lights in winter. The Prince himself was an in- 
 dolent, rather stupid man, who had, once upon a 
 time, been a handsome man and a dandy, but had 
 utterly gone to pieces ; not so much out of respect 
 for his name, as out of courtesy to his wife, who 
 had been a Maid of Honour at Court, he had 
 been given one of the ancient Moscow posts with 
 a small salary, a difficult title, and no work what- 
 ever; he never meddled with anything, and did 
 nothing but smoke from morning till night, never 
 abandoning his dressing-gown, and sighing heav- 
 ily. His wife was a sickly and peevish woman, 
 perpetually worried over domestic troubles, with 
 getting her children placed in government insti- 
 tutions for education, and with keeping up her 
 connections in St. Petersburg; she never could 
 
 64
 
 SMOKE 
 
 get reconciled to her position and expatriation 
 from the Court. 
 
 LitvinofF's father, during his sojourn in Mos- 
 cow, had made the acquaintance of the Osinins, 
 had had an opportunity to render them several 
 services, had once lent them three hundred rubles ; 
 and his son, in his student days, had frequently 
 called to inquire after their health, as his lodgings 
 chanced to be situated not very far from their 
 house. But it was not the close vicinity which at- 
 tracted him, neither did the wretched comforts of 
 their mode of life allure him: he began to visit 
 the Osinins frequently from the moment when he 
 fell in love with their eldest daughter, Irina. 
 
 At that time she had just passed her seven- 
 teenth birthday; she had just left the Institute, 
 from which her mother had taken her, on account 
 of a quarrel with the directress. The quarrel had 
 arisen from the circumstance that Irina was to 
 have delivered the verses of greeting to the Cura- 
 tor at the commencement in the French language, 
 and just before the ceremony another girl, the 
 daughter of a very wealthy government monopo- 
 list, had been substituted for her. The Princess- 
 mother could not digest this affront; and Irina 
 herself could not forgive the directress for her 
 injustice; she had been dreaming in advance how, 
 in the sight of every one, attracting universal at- 
 tention, she would declaim her speech, and how 
 Moscow would talk about her afterward. . . And, 
 
 65
 
 SMOKE 
 
 in fact, Moscow probably would have talked about 
 Irina. She was a tall, slender girl, with a some- 
 what sunken chest and narrow, youthful shoul- 
 ders, with a palely-opaque skin rare at her age, as 
 pure and smooth as porcelain, and thick, blond 
 hair, wherein dark locks were intermingled with 
 the blond ones in an original manner. Her fea- 
 tures, elegantly, almost exquisitely regular, had 
 not yet lost that innocent expression which is pe- 
 culiar to early youth ; but in the slow inclinations 
 of her beautiful neck, in her smile, which, not ex- 
 actly abstracted, nor yet exactly languid, denoted 
 the nervous young gentlewoman, and in the very 
 outline of those thin, barely smiling lips, of that 
 small, aquiline, somewhat compressed nose, there 
 was something wilful and passionate, something 
 dangerous both for others and /for herself. Her 
 eyes were astounding, truly astounding, of a 
 blackish-grey, with green lights, languishing, 
 long as those of Egyptian divinities, with radiant 
 eyelashes, and a bold sweep of eyebrows. There 
 was a strange expression in those eyes: they 
 seemed to be gazing, gazing attentively and 
 thoughtfully, from out of some unknown depths 
 and distance. In the Institute Irina had borne the 
 reputation of being one of the best scholars as to 
 mind and capacities, but with an unstable, am- 
 bitious character, and a mischievous head ; one of 
 the teachers had predicted to her that her passions 
 would ruin her "Vos passions vous perdront " ; 
 
 06
 
 SMOKE 
 
 on the other hand, another teacher had persecuted 
 her because of her coldness and lack of feeling, 
 and called her " une jeune fille sans coeur." 
 Irina's companions thought her proud and deceit- 
 ful, her brothers and sisters were afraid of her, her 
 mother did not trust her, and her father felt un- 
 easy when she fixed her mysterious eyes upon him ; 
 but she inspired both father and mother with a 
 sentiment of involuntary respect, not by virtue of 
 her qualities, but by virtue of the peculiar, indis- 
 tinct expectations which she aroused in them, God 
 knows why. 
 
 ' You will see, Praskovya Danilovna," said 
 the old Prince one day, taking his pipe-stem out 
 of his mouth: " Arinka will extricate us from 
 our difficulties yet." 
 
 The Princess flew into a rage, and told her hus- 
 band that he used " expressions insupportable*" 
 but thought better of it afterward, and repeated, 
 between her teeth: " Yes . . . and it would be a 
 good thing if she did extricate us." 
 
 Irfna enjoyed almost unbounded freedom in 
 the parental abode ; they did not pet her, they even 
 held rather aloof from her, but they did not op- 
 pose her: that was all she wanted. ... It some- 
 times happened when there was some quite too 
 humiliating scene when a shopkeeper would 
 come and yell, so that the whole house could hear 
 him, that he was tired of haunting them for his 
 money, or when their servants, whom they owned, 
 
 67
 
 SMOKE 
 
 took to abusing their masters to their face, say- 
 ing, " A pretty sort of princes you are, with not 
 a copper in your purse to keep from starving " 
 that Irina would never move a muscle, but would 
 sit motionless, with a malign smile on her gloomy 
 face ; and that smile alone was more bitter to her 
 parents than all reproaches, and they felt them- 
 selves guilty, innocently guilty, in the presence of 
 that being, who seemed, from her very birth, to 
 have been endowed with the right to wealth, to 
 luxury, to adoration. 
 
 Litvinoff fell in love with Irina as soon as he 
 saw her (he was only three years older than she) , 
 but for a long time he could not win reciprocity 
 or even attention. Upon her treatment of him 
 there lay the imprint even of a certain hostility; 
 it was exactly as though hejhad offended her and 
 she were profoundly concealing the offence, but 
 were unable to forgive him. He was too young 
 and modest at that time to understand what might 
 be concealed beneath this hostile, almost scornful 
 harshness. There were times when, oblivious of 
 lectures and note-books, he would sit in the Osi- 
 nins' cheerless drawing-room, sit and stare cov- 
 ertly at Irina : his heart pined slowly and bitterly 
 away within him and oppressed his breast; but 
 she, as though she were angry or bored, would 
 rise, pace up and down the room, gaze coldly at 
 him, as at a table or a chair, shrug her shoulders, 
 and fold her arms ; or, during the whole course of 
 
 68
 
 SMOKE 
 
 the evening, she would deliberately refrain from 
 glancing at Litvinoff a single time, even when 
 talking with him, as though refusing him even 
 that alms ; or, in conclusion, she would take up a 
 book and rivet her eyes upon it, without reading, 
 frown and bite her lips, or would suddenly inquire 
 of her father or brother: what was the German 
 word for patience? 
 
 He tried to tear himself away from the 
 enchanted circle, in which he incessantly suf- 
 fered torment and struggled, like a bird which 
 has fallen into a trap; he absented himself from 
 Moscow for a week. After nearly losing his mind 
 with grief and irksomeness, he returned to the 
 Osmins, all haggard and ill. . . And, strange to 
 say, Irina also had grown emaciated during those 
 days, her face had turned yellow, her cheeks were 
 sunken; . . . but she greeted him with greater 
 coldness than ever, with almost malevolent scorn, 
 as though he had still further aggravated that 
 mysterious grievance which he had dealt her. . . 
 
 She tortured him in this manner for two 
 months; then one day everything underwent a 
 change. It was as though she had broken out in 
 conflagration, as though love had swooped down 
 upon her like a thunder-cloud. One day he long 
 remembered that day he was again sitting in the 
 Osmins' drawing-room, at the window, and irrele- 
 vantly staring into the street, and he was feeling 
 vexed and bored and despised himself, and yet he 
 
 69
 
 SMOKE 
 
 could not stir from the spot. . . It seemed to him as 
 though, if a river were flowing just there, beneath 
 the window, he would hurl her into it with terror, 
 but without compunction. Irina had placed her- 
 self not far from him, maintained a rather singu- 
 lar silence, and remained motionless. For several 
 days past she had not spoken to him at all, and 
 indeed she had not spoken to any one ; she sat on 
 and on, propped up on her arms, as though she 
 found herself perplexed, and only from time to 
 time did she cast a slow glance around her. 
 
 This cold torment became, at last, more than 
 Litvinoff could endure ; he rose, and, without tak- 
 ing leave, began to look for his hat. ' Wait," a 
 soft whisper suddenly made itself heard. Lit- 
 vinoff's heart quivered ; he did not at once recog- 
 nise Irina's voice: something unprecedented re- 
 sounded in that single word. He raised his head 
 and stood petrified: Irina was gazing at him 
 affectionately yes, affectionately. Compre- 
 hending nothing, not fully conscious of what 
 he was doing, he approached her and stretched 
 out his hands. . . She immediately gave him 
 both of hers, then smiled, flushed all over, 
 turned away, and without ceasing to smile, she 
 left the room. ... A few minutes later she 
 returned in company with her younger sister, 
 again looked at him with the same gentle glance, 
 and made him sit down beside her. . . At first 
 she could say nothing: she merely sighed and 
 
 70
 
 SMOKE 
 
 blushed ; then she began, as though overcome with 
 timidity, to question him concerning his occupa- 
 tions, something which she had never done before. 
 On the evening of that same day she several times 
 endeavoured to excuse herself to him for not hav- 
 ing known how to appreciate him up to that mo- 
 ment, assured him that she had now become an 
 entirely different person, amazed him by an un- 
 expected republican sally (at that time he wor- 
 shipped Robespierre, and dared not condemn 
 Marat aloud), but a week later he had already 
 discovered that she had fallen in love with him. 
 Yes; he long remembered that first day; . . . but 
 he did not forget the following ones, either, 
 those days when, still striving to doubt, and 
 afraid to believe, he clearly perceived, with 
 tremors of rapture, almost of terror, how this 
 unexpected happiness was engendered, grew and, 
 irresistibly sweeping everything before it, at last 
 fairly submerged him. 
 
 The luminous moments of first love ensued 
 moments which are not fated to be, and should 
 not be, repeated in one and the same life. Irina 
 suddenly became as tame as a lamb, as soft as silk, 
 and infinitely kind ; she undertook to give lessons 
 to her younger sisters, not on the piano, she 
 was not a musician, but in the French and 
 English languages ; she read with them from their 
 text-books, she took part in the housekeeping; 
 everything amused her, everything interested her ; 
 
 71
 
 SMOKE 
 
 now she chattered incessantly, again she became 
 immersed in dumb emotion ; she concocted various 
 plans, she entered into interminable speculations 
 as to what she would do when she married Litvi- 
 noff (they had not the slightest doubt that their 
 marriage would take place) , what they would do 
 together. . . " Work? " suggested Litvinoff. . 
 ' Yes, work," repeated Irina: " read . . . but, 
 principally, travel." She was particularly desir- 
 ous of quitting Moscow as speedily as possible, 
 and when Litvinoff represented to her that he had 
 not yet completed his course in the university, 
 on each such occasion, after meditating a little, 
 she replied that he might finish his studies in Ber- 
 lin, or ... somewhere there. Irina put little 
 constraint upon herself in the expression of her 
 feelings, and, therefore, her affection for Litvi- 
 noff did not long remain a secret to the Prince 
 and Princess. They were not precisely delighted, 
 but, taking all the circumstances into considera- 
 tion, they did not consider it necessary to impose 
 their veto immediately. Litvinoff 's property was 
 
 considerable " But family, family! . . ." 
 
 remarked the Princess. ' Well, of course, fam- 
 ily," replied the Prince ; " but, at all events, he 's 
 not a plebeian, and that 's the chief thing ; for 
 Irina will not listen to us. Was there ever a case 
 when she did not do as she pleased? Vous con- 
 naissez sa violence! Moreover, there 's nothing 
 definite as yet." Thus reasoned the Prince, and 
 
 72
 
 SMOKE 
 
 yet, on the instant, added mentally: "Madame 
 Litvinoff nothing more? I expected something 
 else." 
 
 Irina took complete possession of her future 
 betrothed, and he himself willingly gave him- 
 self into her hands. He seemed to have fallen 
 into a whirlpool, to have lost himself. . . And he 
 found it painful and sweet, and he regretted noth- 
 ing and kept back nothing. He could not make 
 up his mind to reflect upon the significance, the 
 duties of wedlock, or whether he, so irrevocably 
 submissive, would make a good husband, and what 
 sort of a wife Irina would turn out to be ; his blood 
 was on fire and he knew one thing only: to go 
 after her, with her, onward and without end, and 
 then let that happen which might! But, despite 
 the absence of all opposition on the part of Litvi- 
 noff to the superabundance of impulsive tender- 
 ness on the part of Irina, matters did not progress 
 without several misunderstandings and clashes. 
 One day he ran in to see her straight from the 
 university, in his old coat, with his hands stained 
 with ink. She rushed to meet him with her cus- 
 tomary affectionate greeting, and suddenly came 
 to a halt: 
 
 " You have no gloves," she said slowly, with 
 pauses, and instantly added : "Fie! what a . . . 
 student . . . you are! " 
 
 " You are too impressionable, Irina," remarked 
 Litvmoff. 
 
 78
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' You are . . a regular student," she repeated: 
 " Vous n etes pas distingue." 
 
 And turning her back on him, she left the room. 
 It is true that, an hour later, she entreated him to 
 forgive her. . . On the whole, she willingly pun- 
 ished herself and asked his pardon ; only, strange 
 to say, she often, almost with tears, accused her- 
 self of bad motives which she did not have, and 
 obstinately denied her real defects. On another 
 occasion he found her in tears, with her head rest- 
 ing on her hands, and her hair falling unbound; 
 and when, thoroughly disquieted, he questioned 
 her as to the cause of her grief, she silently pointed 
 her finger at her breast. Litvinoff involuntarily 
 shuddered. " Consumption ! " flashed through his 
 mind, and he seized her hand. 
 
 " Art thou ill? " he ejaculated with a quivering 
 voice (they had already begun, in important cases, 
 to call each other " thou ") . " If so, I will go at 
 once for the doctor ..." 
 
 But Irina did not allow him to finish, *nd 
 stamped her little foot with impatience. 
 
 " I am perfectly well . . but it is this gown 
 . . . don't you understand? " 
 
 " What do you mean? . . this gown . . ."he 
 ejaculated in surprise. 
 
 ' What do I mean? Why, that I have no 
 other, and that it is old, horrid, and that I 
 am compelled to put on this gown every day . . 
 even when thou . . even when you come. . It 
 
 74
 
 SMOKE 
 
 will end in thy ceasing to love me, if thou seest 
 me so slovenly." 
 
 " Good heavens, Irina, what art thou saying? 
 Why, this gown is very pretty. . . And it is dear 
 to me, moreover, because I saw thee in it for the 
 first time." 
 
 Irina blushed. 
 
 " Please do not remind me, Grigory Mikha- 
 ilovitch, that even then I had no other gown." 
 
 "But I assure you, Irina Pavlovna, it is 
 charmingly becoming to you." 
 
 " No, it 's horrid, horrid," she repeated, tug- 
 ging nervously at her long, soft curls. " Okh, 
 this poverty, poverty, obscurity! How can I rid 
 myself of this poverty? How get out, get out of 
 the obscurity? " 
 
 Litvinoff did not know what to say, and 
 slightly turned away. 
 
 Suddenly Irina sprang up from her chair and 
 laid both her hands on his shoulders. 
 
 " But, surely, thou lovest me? Thou lovest 
 me? " she cried, approaching her face to his, and 
 her eyes, still filled with tears, beamed with the 
 joy of happiness." Thou lovest me even in this 
 horrid gown? " 
 
 Litvinoff flung himself on his knees before her. 
 
 " Akh, love me, love me, my dear one, my 
 saviour," she whispered, bending down to him. 
 
 Thus the days rushed on, the weeks elapsed, and 
 although no formal explanation had as yet taken
 
 SMOKE 
 
 place, although LitvinoiF still delayed his de- 
 mand, not, of course, by his own wish, but in 
 expectation of a command from Irina (she had 
 happened one day to remark, " We are both ridic- 
 ulously young; we must add a few weeks more 
 to our age ") , yet everything was moving onward 
 to a conclusion, and the immediate future was be- 
 coming more and more clearly defined, when sud- 
 denly an event occurred which scattered all these 
 surmises and plans like the light dust of the high- 
 way.
 
 VIII 
 
 THAT winter the Court visited Moscow. One fes- 
 tival followed another; then came the turn of the 
 customary great ball in the Assembly of the No- 
 bility. The news of this ball, it is true, penetrated 
 even to the tiny house on the Dogs' Square, in the 
 shape of an announcement in the Police News. 
 The Prince was the first to take the initiative ; he 
 immediately decided that it was indispensable 
 that they should go and take Irina, that it was 
 unpardonable to miss the opportunity of seeing 
 their sovereigns, that the ancient nobility were, 
 in a manner, bound to do so. He insisted on his 
 opinion with a peculiar warmth, which was not 
 characteristic of him; the Princess agreed with 
 him to a certain extent, and only sighed over the 
 expense; but Irina displayed decided opposition. 
 " It is unnecessary; I will not go," she replied to 
 all the arguments of her parents. Her obstinacy 
 assumed such proportions that the old Prince at 
 last decided to ask Litvinoff to try to persuade 
 her by representing to her, among the other " rea- 
 sons," that it was improper for a young girl to 
 avoid society, that it was proper for her " to test 
 that," that, as it was, no one ever saw her any- 
 
 77
 
 SMOKE 
 
 where. Litvinoff undertook to present these 
 " reasons " to her. Irina gazed at him so in- 
 tently and attentively that he grew confused, and 
 toying with the ends of her sash, she calmly 
 said: 
 
 ' You desire this? you? " 
 
 " Yes ... I think I do," replied Litvinoff 
 faltering. " I agree with your father. . . And 
 why should not you go ... to look at the people 
 and to show yourself? " he added, with a curt 
 laugh. 
 
 ' To show myself," she slowly repeated. 
 ' Well, very good, I will go. . . Only, remember, 
 it is you yourself who have willed it. ." 
 
 " That is to say, I . . ." Litvinoff tried to 
 begin. 
 
 " It is you yourself who have willed it," she in- 
 terrupted. "And there is one more condition: 
 you must promise me that you will not be present 
 at that ball." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 " I wish it." 
 
 Litvinoff flung his hands apart. 
 
 " I submit; . . but, I must confess, I should be 
 very happy to see you in all your majesty, to be 
 a witness of the impression which you will infal- 
 libly produce. . How proud I should be of you !" 
 he added, with a sigh. 
 
 Irina laughed. 
 
 " All that magnificence will consist of a white 
 78
 
 SMOKE 
 
 frock; and as for the impression . . . well, in 
 short, I will have it so." 
 
 " Irina, you seem to be angry? " 
 
 Irina laughed again. 
 
 " Oh, no! I am not angry. Only thou . . ." 
 ( She fixed her eyes upon him, and it struck him 
 that never before had he beheld in them such an 
 expression.) " Perhaps it is necessary," she 
 added in a low voice. 
 
 "But, Irina, thou lovest me?" 
 ' Yes, I love thee," she replied, with almost 
 solemn impressiveness, and shook his hand in mas- 
 culine fashion. 
 
 During all the succeeding days Irina sedu- 
 lously occupied herself with her toilet, with her 
 coiffure; on the eve of the ball she felt indis- 
 posed, could not sit still in one place, fell to weep- 
 ing a couple of times when she was alone : in Lit- 
 vinoff's presence she smiled in a monotonous sort 
 of way . . . but treated him tenderly, as before, 
 yet in an abstracted manner, and kept incessantly 
 contemplating herself in the mirror. On the day 
 of the ball she was extremely taciturn and pale, 
 but composed. At nine o'clock in the evening 
 Litvinoff came to take a look at her. When she 
 came out to him in her white tarlatan frock, with 
 a spray of small blue flowers in her hair, which 
 was dressed rather high, he simply cried out in 
 admiration : she seemed to him beautiful and ma- 
 jestic beyond her years. ' Yes, she has grown 
 
 79
 
 SMOKE 
 
 taller since morning," he said to himself; "and 
 what a carriage! What a thing good blood is! " 
 Irina stood before him with pendent arms, with- 
 out smile or affectation, and gazed with decision, 
 almost with boldness, not at him, but at some point 
 in the distance, straight in front of her. 
 
 " You are like a fairy princess," uttered Litvi- 
 noff at last;" or, no: you are like the leader of 
 an army before a victory. . . You have not per- 
 mitted me to go to this ball," he continued, while 
 she remained motionless, as before, and seemed 
 not so much to be listening to him as to some other 
 inward speech;" but you will not refuse to ac- 
 cept from me these flowers, and to carry them? " 
 
 He gave her a bouquet of heliotropes. 
 
 She cast a quick glance at LitvinofF, stretched 
 out her hand, and suddenly grasping the tips of 
 the spray which adorned her head, she said: 
 
 " Do you wish it? Only say the word, and I 
 will tear off all this and remain at home." 
 
 Litvinoff's heart fairly sang with joy. Irma's 
 hand was already wrenching off the spray. . . 
 
 " No, no, why should you? " he said hastily, in 
 a burst of grateful and noble sentiments ; " I am 
 not an egoist; why should I restrict your liberty 
 . . when I know that your heart ..." 
 
 ' Well, then, don't come near me; you will 
 crush my gown," she said hastily. 
 
 LitvinofF was disconcerted. 
 
 " And you will take the bouquet? " he asked. 
 80
 
 SMOKE 
 
 "Of course; it is very pretty, and I am very 
 fond of that perfume. . Merci. . I will preserve 
 it as a souvenir." 
 
 " Of your first appearance in society," re- 
 marked Litvinoff: " of your first triumph. . ." 
 
 Irina contemplated herself in the mirror over 
 her shoulder, bending her body a little. 
 
 " And am I really so pretty? Are not you a 
 partial judge? " 
 
 Litvinoff grew diffuse in enthusiastic praises. 
 But Irina was no longer listening to him, and 
 lifting the bouquet to her face, she again began 
 to gaze off into the distance with her strange 
 eyes, which seemed to darken and widen, and the 
 ends of the delicate ribbons, set in motion by a 
 light current of air, elevated themselves on her 
 shoulders like wings. 
 
 The Prince made his appearance with hair 
 curled, in a white necktie, a shabby black dress 
 suit, and with the Vladimir ribbon of the order of 
 the nobility in his buttonhole; after him the Prin- 
 cess appeared in a chine silk gown of antique cut, 
 and with that grim anxiety beneath which mo- 
 thers strive to conceal their agitation put her 
 daughter to rights from behind that is to say, 
 she shook out the folds of her gown without 
 any necessity whatever. An old-fashioned, four- 
 seated hired carriage, drawn by two shaggy nags, 
 crawled up to the entrance, its wheels creaking 
 over the mounds of snow which had not been 
 
 81
 
 SMOKE 
 
 swept away, and an infirm footman in a prepos- 
 terous livery ran in from the anteroom and rather 
 desperately announced that the carriage was 
 ready. . . After bestowing their blessing for the 
 night upon the remaining children, and donning 
 fur wraps, the Prince and Princess directed their 
 steps to the porch ; Irina, in a thin, short-sleeved 
 cloak how she did hate that cloak! followed 
 them in silence. Litvinoff escorted them, in the 
 hope of receiving a parting glance from Irina, 
 but she took her seat in the carriage without turn- 
 ing her head. 
 
 About midnight he passed under the windows 
 of the Assembly. The innumerable lights in the 
 huge chandeliers pierced through the crimson cur- 
 tains in luminous spots, and the sounds of a 
 Strauss waltz were being wafted, with a haughty, 
 festive challenge, all over the square encumbered 
 with equipages. 
 
 On the following day, at noon, Litvinoff betook 
 himself to the Osinins. He found no one at home 
 but the Prince, who immediately announced to 
 him that Irina had a headache, that she was in 
 bed, and would not rise until the evening, and 
 that, moreover, such an indisposition was not in 
 the least surprising after a first ball. 
 
 " C'est ires naturel, vous savez, dans les jeunes 
 files" he added in French, which somewhat 
 amazed Litvinoff, who noticed, at the same mo- 
 ment, that the Prince was not wearing his dress- 
 
 82
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ing-gown as usual, but a frock-coat." And, 
 moreover," went on Osinin, " how could she help 
 falling ill after the events of last night? " 
 " The events? " blurted out Litvinoff. 
 ' Yes, yes, the events, the events, vrais evenc- 
 ments. You cannot imagine, Grigory Mikhaflo- 
 vitch, quel succes die a eul The entire Court 
 noticed her! Prince Alexander Feodorovitch 
 said that her place was not here, that she re- 
 minded him of the Duchess of Devonshire . . 
 well, you know . . the famous one. . . And old 
 Blazenkampf declared, in the hearing of every 
 one, that Irma was la reine du bal, and asked to be 
 presented to her ; and he introduced himself to me 
 that is to say, he told me that he remembered 
 me as a hussar, and inquired where I was serving 
 now. He 's very amusing, that Count, and such 
 an adorateur du beau sexel But what am I say- 
 ing? . . . And my Princess also .... they 
 gave her no peace either : Natalya Nikitishna her- 
 self conversed with her . . . what more would 
 you have? Irma danced avec tous les meilleurs 
 cavaliers; they kept introducing them and intro- 
 ducing them to me until I lost count of 
 
 them. Will you believe it, everybody thronged 
 around us in crowds; in the mazurka they did 
 nothing but choose her. One foreign diplomat, 
 on learning that she was a native of Moscow, said 
 to the Emperor: 'Sire* said he, f decidement 
 c'est Moscou qui est le centre de votre empire! ' 
 
 83
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and another diplomat added: e C'est une vraie 
 revolution, Sire ' ; revelation or revolution .... 
 something of that sort. Yes . . . yes ... it 
 ... it ... I must tell you, it was something re- 
 markable." 
 
 "Well, and Irfna Pavlovna herself? " inquired 
 Litvinoff , whose feet and hands had turned cold 
 during the Prince's speech: " did she enjoy her- 
 self, did she seem pleased? " 
 
 " Of course she enjoyed herself; as if she could 
 help being pleased! However, you know, one 
 cannot make her out immediately. Every one said 
 to me last night: * How amazing! jamais on ne 
 dirait que mademoiselle votre ftlle est a son pre- 
 mier bal/ Count Reisenbach, among the rest; 
 . . . surely you must know him. . ." 
 
 " No, I do not know him at all, and never have 
 known him." 
 
 " He 's my wife's first cousin. . ." 
 
 " I do not know him." 
 
 "He's a rich man, a Court Chamberlain; he 
 lives in Petersburg ; he 's all the fashion ; he twists 
 everybody in Livonia round his finger. Up to 
 now he has always despised us ; ... naturally, I 
 do not bear him any grudge for that. J'ai 
 rhumeur facile, comme vous savez. Well, now 
 there was he. He sat down beside Irfna, con- 
 versed with her for a quarter of an hour, no more, 
 and then said to my Princess : f Ma cousinef says 
 he, ' votre fille est une perle; c'est une perfection; 
 
 84
 
 SMOKE 
 
 every one is complimenting me on my niece. . . .' 
 And then I saw that he went up to . . an impor- 
 tant personage, and kept staring at Irina all the 
 while . . . well, and the personage stared also. . . ." 
 
 " And so Irina Pavlovna will not be visible all 
 day? " inquired Litvinoff again. 
 
 " No; she has a very bad headache. She asked 
 to be remembered to you, and that we should 
 thank you for your bouquet, qu'on a trouve char- 
 mant. She must rest. . . My Princess has gone 
 out to pay calls . . and I myself, you see . . . ." 
 
 The Prince coughed and began to shuffle his 
 feet about, as though at a loss what more to say. 
 Litvinoff took his hat, said that he had no inten- 
 tion of embarrassing him, and would call later to 
 inquire after his health, and took his departure. 
 
 A few paces from the Osinins' house he caught 
 sight of a dandified two-seated carriage, which 
 had halted in front of the police sentry-box. A 
 liveried footman, also dandified, was bending 
 carelessly down from the box and inquiring of the 
 sentry, who was a Finn, whereabouts in the vicin- 
 ity dwelt Prince Pavel Vasilievitch Osinin. 
 Litvinoff glanced into the carriage: in it sat a 
 middle-aged man, of sanguine complexion, with a 
 frowning and haughty face, a Grecian nose, and 
 evil lips, enveloped in a sable cloak, a high dig- 
 nitary, by all the signs. 
 
 85
 
 IX 
 
 LITVINOFF did not keep his promise to call later; 
 he reflected that it would be better to defer his visit 
 until the following day. When, about twelve 
 o'clock, he entered the familiar drawing-room, he 
 found there the two younger Princesses, Victo- 
 rinka and Cleopatrinka. He greeted them, then 
 inquired: was Irina Pavlovna feeling any better, 
 and could he see her? 
 
 " Irinotchka has gone out wiv mamma," re- 
 plied Victorfnka; although she lisped, she was 
 more vivacious than her sister. 
 
 ' What . . . she has gone out? " repeated Lit- 
 vinoff, and something shivered within him in the 
 depths of his breast. "Doesn't . . . doesn't 
 . . . does n't she occupy herself with you at this 
 hour does n't she give you lessons? " 
 
 " Irinotchka ith n't going to give us lethonth 
 any more," replied Victorinka. " She isn't go- 
 ing to any more," Cleopatrinka repeated after 
 her. 
 
 " And is your papa at home? " inquired Litvi- 
 noff. 
 
 " Papa ith n't at home, eiver," continued Vic- 
 torinka;" and Irinotchka is ill: she cwied, cwied 
 all night long. . ." 
 
 86
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " She cried? " 
 
 ' Yeth, she cwied. . . Egorovna told me, and 
 her eyes are so wed, as though they were 
 swol len. . ." 
 
 Litvinoff paced up and down the room a couple 
 of times, shivering slightly, as though with cold, 
 and returned to his lodgings. He experienced 
 a sensation akin to that which takes possession of 
 a man when he gazes down from the summit of a 
 lofty tower: everything died away within him, 
 and his head swam quietly and mawkishly. Dull 
 surprise and a mouse-like scampering of thoughts, 
 ill-defined alarm and dumb anticipation, and 
 strange, almost malicious curiosity, in his com- 
 pressed throat the bitterness of unshed tears, on 
 his lips the effort at an empty smirk, and an en- 
 treaty addressed to no one . . oh, how cruel and 
 humiliatingly repulsive it all was! " Irina does 
 not wish to see me," kept whirling incessantly 
 through his brain, " that is clear ; but why ? What 
 can have taken place at that ill-starred ball? And 
 how is such a change, all at once, possible? So 
 suddenly. . ." (People are constantly observing 
 that death comes unexpectedly, but they cannot 
 possibly accustom themselves to its suddenness, 
 and think it senseless.) " She sends me no mes- 
 sage, she does not wish to come to an explanation 
 with me. . . ." 
 
 " Grigory Mikhaflovitch," cried a strained voice 
 in his very ear. 
 
 87
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Litvinoff started, and beheld before him his 
 man with a note in his hand. He recognised 
 Irma's handwriting. . . Even before he had 
 broken the seal of the note he had a foreboding 
 of misfortune, and bowed his head upon his breast 
 and hunched up his shoulders, as though warding 
 off a blow. 
 
 At last he summoned his courage and tore off 
 the envelope with one movement. On a small 
 sheet of note-paper stood the following words: 
 
 "Forgive me, Grigdry Mikhailitch. Everything is 
 at an end between us. I am going to Petersburg. It 
 distresses me dreadfully, but the deed is done. Evi- 
 dently, it is my fate; . . but no, I will not try to justify 
 myself. My forebodings have been realised. Forgive 
 me, forget me ; I am not worthy of you. 
 
 ' * Be magnanimous : do not try to see me. 
 
 "ImiNA." 
 
 LitvmofF read these five lines and sank back 
 slowly on the couch, as though some one had dealt 
 him a blow in the breast. He dropped the note, 
 picked it up, read it again, whispered, " To Pe- 
 tersburg," dropped it again, and that was all. 
 Tranquillity descended upon him; he even ad- 
 justed the cushion under his head with his hands, 
 which were thrown behind him. " Those who are 
 wounded unto death do not toss about," he said 
 to himself; " as it has come, so it has gone. . . All 
 this is natural; I have always expected this. . ." 
 
 88
 
 SMOKE 
 
 (He lied to himself: he had never expected any- 
 thing of the sort.) " Wept? She wept? . . What 
 did she weep about? For she did not love me! 
 However, it is all comprehensible and in conso- 
 nance with her character. She, she is not worthy 
 of me. . . The idea!" (He laughed bitterly.) 
 " She herself did not know what force was con- 
 cealed within her ; well, but after convincing her- 
 self of its effects at the ball, how could she put 
 up with an insignificant student? ... It is all in- 
 telligible enough." 
 
 But here he recalled her tender words, her 
 smiles, and those eyes those unforgettable eyes, 
 which he would never see again, which both 
 beamed and melted at the mere encounter with his 
 eyes; he recalled also one swift, timid, burning 
 kiss and all of a sudden he burst out sobbing, 
 and sobbed convulsively, wildly, venomously, 
 turned over on his face, and choked, and sighed 
 with fierce enjoyment, as though thirsting to rend 
 himself and everything about him, thrust his in- 
 flamed face into the cushion of the divan and 
 bit it. . . 
 
 Alas! The gentleman whom Litvinoff had 
 seen on the previous day in the carriage was pre- 
 cisely that first cousin of the Princess Osinin, the 
 wealthy man and Chamberlain of the Court, 
 Count Reisenbach. On perceiving the impres- 
 sion which Irfna had made on persons of the high- 
 est position, and instantaneously calculating what 
 
 89
 
 SMOKE 
 
 advantages, " mil etwas Accuratesse" might be 
 derived from that fact, the Count, being an ener- 
 getic man and one who understood how to render 
 obsequious service, immediately drew up his plan. 
 He decided to act promptly, in Napoleonic fash- 
 ion. " I will take that original young girl into 
 my own house," he reflected ; " in Petersburg I 
 will make her my heiress, devil take it, well, of 
 almost all my estate; I happen to have no chil- 
 dren ; she is my niece, and my Countess finds life 
 tiresome alone. . . At any rate, it will be more 
 agreeable when there is a pretty little face in the 
 drawing-room. . . Yes, yes ; that 's so : es ist eine 
 Idee, es ist eine Idee! " He must dazzle, confuse, 
 startle her parents. " They have nothing to eat," 
 the Count pursued his meditations, as he sat in 
 his carriage and was being driven to the Dogs' 
 Square, " therefore, in all probability, they will 
 not prove obstinate. They 're not so very sensi- 
 tive. I might give them a sum of money. But 
 she? And she will consent also. Honey is sweet 
 . . . she got a taste of it last night. It is a caprice 
 of mine, let us assume ; then let them profit by it 
 . . . the fools. I shall say to them: thus and so; 
 come to a decision. Otherwise, I shall take some 
 other girl; an orphan which is more convenient. 
 Yes or no, I give you twenty-four hours to make 
 up your minds, und damit Punctum." 
 
 With these same words upon his lips, the Count 
 presented himself before the Prince, whom he had 
 
 90
 
 already, on the previous evening at the ball, fore- 
 warned of his visit. It seems not worth while to 
 enter at length into the results of this visit. The 
 Count had made no mistake in his calculations: 
 the Prince and Princess really did not prove re- 
 fractory, and accepted the sum of money, and 
 Irina really did consent, without waiting for the 
 expiration of the appointed term. It was not easy 
 for her to break her bond with Litvmoff ; she loved 
 him, and, when she had sent him the note, she 
 almost took to her bed, wept incessantly, grew 
 thin and sallow. . . But, nevertheless, a month 
 later the Princess took her away to Petersburg, 
 and settled her at the Count's, confiding her to 
 the guardianship of the Countess, a very kind 
 woman, but with the mind of a chicken and the 
 exterior of a chicken. 
 
 But LitvinofF then abandoned the university, 
 and went off to his father in the country. Little 
 by little his wound healed. At first he heard noth- 
 ing about Irina, and he avoided talking about 
 Petersburg and Petersburg society. Then grad- 
 ually reports began to circulate about her, not evil, 
 but strange reports ; rumour began to busy itself 
 with her. The name of the young Princess Osi- 
 nin, surrounded with splendour, stamped with a 
 special seal, came to be more and more frequently 
 mentioned in provincial circles. It was uttered 
 with curiosity, with respect, with envy, as the 
 name of Countess Vorotynsky had formerly been 
 
 91
 
 SMOKE 
 
 uttered. At last the news of her marriage was 
 spread abroad. But Litvinoff paid hardly any 
 attention to this last bit of news : he was already 
 betrothed to Tatyana. 
 
 And now it has probably become intelligible 
 to the reader precisely what it was that recurred 
 to Litvinoff, when he exclaimed: " Is it possible! " 
 and therefore we will now return to Baden and 
 resume the thread of our interrupted story. 
 
 92
 
 IT was very late when Litvmoff got to sleep, and 
 he did not sleep long: the sun had only just risen 
 when he rose from his bed. The summits of the 
 dark hills which were visible from his windows 
 were glowing with a moist crimson hue against 
 the clear sky. " How fresh it must be yonder, un- 
 der the trees! " he said to himself, and he hastily 
 dressed himself, cast an abstracted glance at 
 the bouquet, which had blossomed out even more 
 luxuriantly during the night, took his cane, and 
 betook himself to the well-known " Cliffs," behind 
 the " Old Castle." The morning enveloped him 
 in its strong and tranquil caress. He breathed 
 vigorously, he moved vigorously; the health of 
 youth played in his every sinew; the earth itself 
 seemed to rise up to meet his light tread. With 
 every step he felt more amiably disposed, more 
 cheerful : he walked along in the dewy shade, over 
 the coarse sand of the paths, past the pines, the 
 tips of all whose twigs were rimmed with the vivid 
 green of the spring shoots. " How glorious this 
 is!" he kept saying to himself. All at once he 
 heard voices that were familiar to him : he glanced 
 ahead and descried Voroshiloff and Bambaeff, 
 
 93
 
 SMOKE 
 
 who were walking toward him. He fairly 
 writhed : he darted aside, like a school-boy evading 
 his teacher, and hid behind a bush. . . "Oh,my Cre- 
 ator! " he prayed, " carry my fellow-countrymen 
 past!" It seemed to him at that moment that 
 he would have begrudged no amount of money, 
 if only they might not catch sight of him. . . And, 
 in fact, they did not catch sight of him : the Crea- 
 tor bore his fellow-countrymen past. Voroshiloff , 
 with his cadet-like self-complacent voice, was ex- 
 plaining to Bambaeff about the various " phases " 
 of Gothic architecture, while Bambaeff merely 
 grunted approvingly ; it was evident that Voroshi- 
 loff had already been overwhelming him for a 
 long time with his " phases," and the good- 
 natured enthusiast was beginning to be bored. 
 Long did Litvinoff, biting his lip, and craning 
 his neck, listen to the retreating footsteps; long 
 did cadences, now guttural, now nasal, of that in- 
 structive harangue resound; at last all became 
 silent. Litvinoff heaved a sigh of relief, emerged 
 from his ambush, and pursued his way. 
 
 For three hours he roamed about the mountains. 
 Now he deserted the path, and leaped from rock 
 to rock, occasionally slipping on the smooth moss ; 
 again he seated himself on a fragment of the 
 cliff, beneath an oak or a beech, and indulged in 
 pleasant thoughts, to the ceaseless murmur of the 
 brooks, overgrown with ferns, the soothing rus- 
 tle of the leaves, and the ringing song of a solitary 
 
 94
 
 SMOKE 
 
 blackbird; a slight drowsiness, also agreeable, 
 stole upon him, seemed to embrace him from be- 
 hind, and he fell asleep . . . but suddenly he 
 smiled and cast a glance about him : the green and 
 gold of the forest, of the forest air, beat gently 
 on his sight and again he smiled, and again he 
 closed his eyes. He felt like breakfasting, and be- 
 took himself in the direction of the " Old Castle," 
 where, for a few kreutzers, he would be able to 
 obtain a glass of good milk and coffee. But he 
 had not succeeded in taking his place at one of 
 the small white-painted tables, which stood on the 
 platform in front of the castle, when he heard the 
 laboured snorting of horses, and three calashes 
 made their appearance, from which poured forth 
 a rather numerous party of ladies and cavaliers 
 .... LitvinofF immediately recognised them for 
 Russians, although they were all talking in 
 French . . because they were talking in French. 
 The toilets of the ladies were distinguished 
 by exquisite smartness; the cavaliers wore 
 brand-new coats, but tight-fitting and with a well- 
 defined waist, which is not altogether usual in our 
 day, trousers of grey figured material, and very 
 shiny city hats. A low, black neckcloth closely 
 encircled the neck of each cavalier, and something 
 military made itself felt in their whole bearing. 
 As a matter of fact, they were military men ; Lit- 
 vmofF had happened upon a picnic of young gen- 
 erals, persons of the highest society, and of con- 
 
 95
 
 SMOKE 
 
 siderable importance. Their importance was an- 
 nounced in every point: in their discreet ease of 
 manner, in their gracefully majestic smiles, in the 
 strained abstraction of their glance, in the effem- 
 inate twitching of their shoulders, in the swaying 
 motion of their figures, and in the bend of their 
 knees ; it was betrayed by the very sound of their 
 voices, which seemed to be amiably and fastidi- 
 ously returning thanks to a subservient throng. 
 All these warriors were splendidly washed, 
 shaved, perfumed through and through with some 
 scent or other which is a genuine appurtenance of 
 the nobility and the Guards, a mixture of the most 
 capital cigar smoke and the most astonishing 
 patchouli. And all their hands were those of 
 nobles white, large, with nails as strong as ivory; 
 the moustaches of all fairly shone, their teeth 
 gleamed, and their very delicate skin was red on 
 the cheeks, blue on the chin. Some of the young 
 generals were playful, others were thoughtful; 
 but the stamp of superior propriety lay upon them 
 all. Each one, apparently, was profoundly con- 
 scious of his own worth, and of the dignity of his 
 future part in the empire, and bore himself se- 
 verely and boldly, with a faint tinge of that f risk- 
 iness, that " devil-take-me " air, which so natu- 
 rally makes its appearance during travels abroad. 
 Having noisily and pompously seated them- 
 selves, the company summoned the bustling wait- 
 ers. Litvinoff made haste to finish his glass of 
 
 96
 
 SMOKE 
 
 milk, paid what he owed, and pulling his hat well 
 down over his eyes, he was on the point of slip- 
 ping past the picnic of generals. . . 
 
 " Grigory Mikhailitch," said a woman's voice. 
 
 " Don't you know me? " 
 
 He involuntarily halted. That voice. . That 
 voice had but too often caused his heart to beat 
 in days gone by. . . He turned round and beheld 
 Irfna. 
 
 She was sitting at a table, and with her arms 
 crossed on the back of a chair which had been 
 pushed aside, she was gazing at him courteously, 
 almost joyously, with her head bent on one side, 
 and smiling. 
 
 Litvinoff instantly recognised her, although she 
 had changed since he had seen her for the last 
 time, ten years previously, although from a young 
 girl she had become a woman. Her slender figure 
 had developed and blossomed out, the lines of her 
 formerly compressed shoulders now suggested 
 those of the goddesses who start forth from the 
 ceilings of ancient Italian palaces. But her eyes 
 remained the same, and it seemed to Litvinoff 
 that they were gazing at him in the same manner 
 as then, in that tiny house in Moscow. 
 
 " Irfna Pavlovna . . . ." he began irresolutely. 
 
 " You recognise me? How glad I am! . . . 
 how I ..." (She paused, blushed slightly, and 
 drew herself up. ) " This is a very pleasant meet- 
 ing," she went on in French. " Allow me to in- 
 
 97
 
 SMOKE 
 
 troduce you to my husband. Valerien, Monsieur 
 Litvinoif , un ami d'enfance; Valerian Vladimiro- 
 vitch Ratmiroff, my husband." 
 
 One of the young generals, almost the most ele- 
 gant of them all, rose from his chair, and bowed 
 to Litvinoff with extreme courtesy, while his re- 
 maining comrades knit their brows slightly, or, 
 not so much knit their brows, as became immersed, 
 for the moment, each one in himself, as though 
 protesting in advance at any connection with a 
 strange civilian, while the other ladies who were 
 taking part in the picnic considered it necessary 
 to screw their eyes up a trifle and to grin, and 
 even to express dissatisfaction on their faces. 
 
 ' You Have you been long in Baden? " in- 
 quired General Ratmiroff, assuming an affected 
 air, in a certain non-Russian fashion, and evi- 
 dently not knowing what to talk about with the 
 friend of his wife's youth. 
 
 " Not long," replied Litvinoff. 
 
 " And do you intend to remain long? " went 
 on the polite general. 
 
 " I have not yet made up my mind." 
 
 " Ah! That is very pleasant . . . very." 
 
 The general became dumb. Litvinoff also 
 maintained silence. 
 
 Both held their hats in their hands, and with 
 bodies inclined forward and teeth displayed, they 
 stared at each other's brows. 
 
 " Deux gendarmes un beau dimancke" struck 
 98
 
 SMOKE 
 
 up, out of tune, as a matter of course, we have 
 yet to meet the Russian noble who does not sing 
 out of tune, a mole-eyed, sallow general with an 
 expression of perpetual irritation on his face, as 
 though he could not pardon himself for his own 
 appearance. He was the only one among all those 
 comrades who did not resemble a rose. 
 
 " But why do not you sit down, Grigory Mi- 
 khailitch? " remarked Irina at last. 
 
 Litvinoff obeyed and sat down. 
 
 " I say, Valerian, give me a light," said (in 
 English) another general, also young but already 
 obese, with immovable eyes, which seemed to be 
 riveted on the air, and with thick, silky side- 
 whiskers, in which he slowly plunged his snow- 
 white fingers. Ratmiroff gave him a silver box 
 filled with matches. 
 
 <c Avec vous des papiros? " inquired one of the 
 ladies, with a lisp. 
 
 " De vrais papelitos, comtesse" 
 
 " Deux gendarmes un beau dimanclie" struck 
 up the mole-eyed general again, almost gnashing 
 his teeth. 
 
 " You certainly must call upon us," Irina was 
 saying, meanwhile, to Litvinoff.- ' We are liv- 
 ing in the Hotel de 1'Europe. I am always at 
 home from four until six. You and I have not 
 seen each other for a long time." 
 
 Litvinoff cast a glance at Irina; she did not 
 lower her eyes- 
 
 09
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Yes, Irina Pavlovna, it is a long time. Not 
 since Moscow days." 
 
 " Since Moscow days since Moscow days," 
 she repeated haltingly. " Do come; we will 
 have a chat and recall old times. But, do you 
 know, Grigory Mikhailitch, you have not altered 
 much." 
 
 " Really? But you have changed, Irina Pav- 
 lovna." 
 
 " I have grown old." 
 
 " No, that was not what I meant to say. . ." 
 
 "Irene?" in an inquiring tone of voice, said one 
 of the ladies, with a yellow bonnet on yellow hair, 
 after a preliminary whisper and giggle with the 
 cavalier who sat beside her." Irina? " 
 
 " I have grown old," repeated Irina, making 
 no reply to the lady; " but I have not changed. 
 No, no, I have not changed in any way." 
 
 ff Deux gendarmes un beau dimanche! " rang 
 out again. The irritable general could recall only 
 the first line of the familiar song. 
 
 " It still pricks, Your Illustriousness," said the 
 fat general with the side-whiskers in a loud voice, 
 pronouncing his os broadly, probably in allusion 
 to some amusing story familiar to the whole beau 
 monde_, and uttering a curt, wooden laugh, he 
 again fixed his eyes on the air. All the rest of 
 the party broke out laughing also. 
 
 ' What a sad dog you are, Boris! " remarked 
 (in English) Ratmiroff in a low tone. He even 
 
 100
 
 SMOKE 
 
 pronounced the name " Boris " in English 
 fashion. 
 
 " Irene? " inquired for the third time, the lady 
 in the yellow bonnet. Irina turned quickly to- 
 ward her. 
 
 " Eh, bien! quoi? Que me voulez-vous? " 
 
 " Je vous le dirai plus tard" replied the lady 
 affectedly. Although possessed of an extremely 
 unattractive exterior, she was constantly indulg- 
 ing in affectations and grimaces; a certain wit 
 had once said of her that she "minaudait dans le 
 vide " made grimaces at empty space. 
 
 Irfna frowned and impatiently shrugged her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Mais que fait done Monsieur Verdier? Pour- 
 quoi ne vient-il pas? " exclaimed one lady, with 
 those drawling accents which are insufferable to 
 French ears, and which constitute the specialty of 
 the Great Russian pronunciation. 
 
 " Akh, you, akh, you, Monsieur Verdier, Mon- 
 sieur Verdier," groaned a lady, who had certainly 
 been born in Arzamas. 
 
 " Tranquillisez-vous, mesdames" interposed 
 Ratmiroff : " Monsieur Verdier ma promis de 
 venir se mettre a vos pieds." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" the ladies began to flutter 
 their fans. 
 
 The waiter brought several glasses of beer. 
 
 " Bairisch-bier? " inquired the general with the 
 side-whiskers, intentionally speaking in a bass 
 
 101
 
 SMOKE 
 
 voice, and pretending to be surprised." Guten 
 Mor gen" 
 
 "Well? Is Count Pavel still there?" one 
 young general coldly and languidly asked an- 
 other. 
 
 ' Yes," replied the other, with equal coldness. 
 " Mais cest provisoire. Serge, they say, is in 
 his place." 
 
 " Oho! " hissed the other through his teeth. 
 
 " Ye-es," hissed the first. 
 
 " I cannot understand," began the general who 
 had been humming the song: " I cannot under- 
 stand what possessed Polya to defend himself, to 
 allege various excuses. . . Well, he molested the 
 merchant, il lui a fait rendre gorge . . . well, but 
 what of that? He may have had his reasons." 
 
 " He was afraid . . of being shown up in the 
 newspapers," muttered some one. 
 
 The irritable general flared up. 
 
 " Well, that is the very worst of all ! The news- 
 papers! Shown up! If it had depended on me, 
 all I would permit your newspapers to print 
 would be the fixed prices of meat and of bread, 
 and the advertisements of the sale of fur cloaks 
 and boots." 
 
 " And of noblemen's estates at auction," put 
 in RatmirofF. 
 
 " If you like, under present conditions. But 
 what a conversation in Baden, at the Vieux Cha- 
 teau!" 
 
 102
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Mais pas du tout! pas du tout! " lisped the 
 lady in the yellow bonnet. " J 'adore Ics questions 
 politiques." 
 
 " Madame a raison" interposed another gen- 
 eral, with an extremely agreeable and rather ef- 
 feminate face." Why should we avoid those 
 questions . . . even in Baden? " At these words 
 he glanced politely at Litvinoff, and smiled con- 
 descendingly. " An upright man ought no- 
 where, under any circumstances, to renounce his 
 convictions. Is not that true ?" 
 
 " Of course," replied the irritable general, also 
 casting his eyes on Litvfnoff , and, as it were, in- 
 directly reproving him:" but I do not perceive 
 the necessity . . ." 
 
 " No, no," interrupted the condescending gen- 
 eral, with his former mildness. 
 
 " Here our friend, Valerian Vladimirovitch, 
 alluded to the sale of noblemen's estates. What 
 of that? Is it not a fact?" 
 
 " But it is impossible to sell them now ; nobody 
 wants them! " exclaimed the irritable general. 
 
 " Possibly . . . possibly. Therefore, it is nec- 
 essary to declare that fact . . . that sad fact, at 
 every step. We are ruined very good. We are 
 humiliated, it is impossible to dispute that; but 
 we large proprietors, we represent a principle . . 
 un principe . . . nevertheless. It is our duty to 
 uphold that principle. Pardon, madame, I think 
 you have dropped your handkerchief. When a 
 
 103
 
 SMOKE 
 
 certain blindness, so to speak, takes possession of 
 even the loftiest minds, we ought to point out 
 humbly point out " (the general stretched out 
 his finger), "point out with the finger to the 
 citizen the abyss whither everything is hastening. 
 We ought to utter a warning: we ought to say 
 with respectful firmness: ' turn back, turn back. .' 
 That is what we ought to say." 
 
 " But it is impossible to turn back completely," 
 remarked RatmirofF thoughtfully. 
 
 The condescending general merely grinned. 
 
 " Completely; completely back, mon tres cher. 
 The further back the better." 
 
 Again the general cast a polite glance at Litvi- 
 noff . The latter could restrain himself no longer. 
 
 4 You would not have us return to the time of 
 the Seven Boyars, Your Excellency? " 
 
 " Even that! I expressed my meaning without 
 any ambiguity; we must do over . . . yes . . . 
 do over everything that has been done." 
 
 " And the nineteenth of February also? " 
 
 "Yes, the nineteenth of February 1 also, so far 
 as that is possible. On est patriote ou on ne I'est 
 pas. ' But freedom ? ' I shall be asked. Do you 
 think this freedom is sweet to the people? Just 
 ask them. ..." 
 
 "Try," retorted Litvfnoff: " try to deprive 
 them of that freedom. . ." 
 
 1 The date of the Emancipation Proclamation, March 3, 
 1861. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 104
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Comment nommez-vous ce monsieur? " whis- 
 pered the general to Ratmiroff. 
 
 " But what are you talking about there? " sud- 
 denly began the fat general, who, evidently, 
 played the part of a spoiled child in this company. 
 " Still about the newspapers? About quill- 
 drivers? Let me tell you what an experience I 
 had with a quill-driver it was splendid! I was 
 told: f un folliculaire has written a libel on you.' 
 Well, of course, I immediately called him to ac- 
 count. They brought the dear man. . . ' How 
 come you,' says I, ' my friend, folliculaire, to be 
 writing libels? Have you conquered your patri- 
 otism? ' * I have,' says he. ' Well, and do you 
 love money, folliculaire? ' says I. 'I do,' says he. 
 So then, my dear sirs, I let him smell of the knob 
 of my cane. ' And do you love this also, my 
 angel? ' ' No,' says he, * I don't love that.' 
 ' Well,' says I, ' you smell of that in proper fash- 
 ionmy hands are clean.'' I don't like it,' says 
 he, ' and that 's enough.'' But I, my dear fel- 
 low,' says I, ' love it very much, only not for my- 
 self. Do you understand this allegory, my 
 treasure? ''I understand,' says he.' Then look 
 to it, be a good boy hereafter, and now here 's a 
 ruble for you ; take yourself off, and bless me day 
 and night.' And the folliculaire departed." 
 
 The general broke into a laugh, and all the 
 others again followed his example and laughed- 
 all, with the exception of Irina, who did not even 
 
 105
 
 SMOKE 
 
 smile, and stared in a somewhat gloomy manner 
 at the story-teller. 
 
 The condescending general tapped Boris on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 ' You invented the whole of that, my beloved 
 friend. . As if you would menace any one with a 
 cane. . . You have n 't even any cane. C'est 
 pour faire rire ces dames. It was just for the 
 sake of a joke. But that 's not the point. I said 
 a while ago that we must return completely. 
 Understand me, I am not an enemy to so-called 
 progress ; but all those universities and seminaries 
 there, and schools for the common people, those 
 students, priests' sons, plebeians, and that small 
 fry, tout ce fond du sac, la petite propriete, pire 
 que le proletariat " (the general spoke in a sub- 
 dued, almost prostrated voice) " voila ce qui 
 m'effraie . . . that is what must be stopped . . . 
 and it will stop." (Again he cast a caressing 
 glance at Litvinoff . ) ' Yes, sir, we must call a 
 halt. Do not forget that with us no one demands 
 anything, asks anything. Does any one ask for 
 self-government, for example ? Do you ask for it ? 
 Or dost thou? or thou? or do you, mesdames? For 
 you not only govern yourselves but also all the 
 rest of us." (The general's extremely handsome 
 countenance lighted up with an amused smile.) 
 " My dear friends, why flee like a hare? Democ- 
 racy delights in you, it burns incense before you, it 
 is ready to subserve your ends . . for you know 
 
 106
 
 SMOKE 
 
 this sword is two-edged. The old ways of times 
 gone by are the best, after all . . They are much 
 safer. Do not permit the common people to rea- 
 son, and put your trust in the aristocracy, in which 
 alone there is power. . . Really, it will be better 
 so. But as for progress . . . personally, I have no 
 objection to progress. Only, do not give us any 
 lawyers, and jurors, and some county officials or 
 other but discipline, most of all, do not meddle 
 with discipline; but you can build bridges, and 
 quays, and hospitals, and why should not the 
 streets be illuminated with gas? " 
 
 " Petersburg has been fired on all four sides, 
 and there's progress for you!" hissed the irri- 
 table general. 
 
 " Well, I perceive that you are rancorous," re- 
 marked the fat general languidly, as he swayed 
 to and fro." It would be a good thing to ap- 
 point you Chief Procurator of the Holy Synod ; 
 but, in my opinion, avec Orphee aux enfers le 
 progres a dit son dernier mot" 
 
 "Vous dites ton jours des betises" giggled the 
 lady from Arzamas. 
 
 The general assumed an air of dignity. 
 
 " Je ne suis jamais plus serieux, madame, que 
 quand je dis des betises" 
 
 "Monsieur Verdier used that phrase several 
 times," remarked Irina, in a low tone. 
 
 " De la poigne et des formes! " exclaimed the 
 fat general: "de la poigne surtout. And that 
 
 107
 
 SMOKE 
 
 may be translated into Russian thus: be cour- 
 teous, but give it to them straight in the teeth! " 
 
 " Akh, you scamp, you incorrigible scamp!" 
 interposed the condescending general. " Please 
 do not listen to him, mesdames. He would not 
 hurt a gnat. He contents himself with devouring 
 his own heart." 
 
 ' Well, but no, Boris," began Ratmiroff, ex- 
 changing a glance with his wife: "a jest is a 
 jest, but this is carrying the thing too far. Prog- 
 ress is a manifestation of social life, and that 
 must be borne in mind; it is a symptom. One 
 must keep an eye on it." 
 
 " Well, yes," returned the fat general, and 
 wrinkled up his nose. " 'T is a well-known fact 
 that your aim is to be a statesman ! " 
 
 " My aim is not in the least, to become a states- 
 man. . . What has statesmanship to do with that ? 
 But one must not refuse to admit the truth." 
 
 " Boris " again plunged his fingers into his 
 whiskers, and riveted his eyes on the air. 
 
 " Social life is very important, because in the 
 development of a nation, in the fate, so to speak, 
 of the fatherland . . . ' 
 
 ' Valerien," interrupted " Boris " impres- 
 sively: " il y a des dames id. I did not expect 
 this from you. Or do you wish to get on a com- 
 mittee?" " 
 
 " But they are all discontinued now, thank 
 God," interposed the irritable general, and again 
 
 108
 
 SMOKE 
 
 began to hum : " Deux gendarmes un beau 
 dimanche " 
 
 Ratmiroff raised his batiste handkerchief to his 
 nose, and gracefully subsided into silence; the 
 irritable general repeated: 'The scamp! the 
 scamp! " But " Boris " turned to the lady who 
 was making grimaces into empty space, and, 
 without lowering his voice, without even altering 
 the expression of his face, he began to ask her 
 when she " would crown his flame," as he was 
 amazingly in love with her, and was suffering to 
 an unusual degree. 
 
 With every moment that passed during the 
 course of this conversation Litvinoff felt more 
 and more uncomfortable. His pride, his honour- 
 able, plebeian pride, fairly rose up in revolt. 
 What was there in common between him, the son 
 of a petty official, and those military aristocrats 
 from Petersburg? He loved everything which 
 they hated, he hated everything which they loved ; 
 he recognised that fact too plainly : he felt it with 
 his whole being. He considered their jests in- 
 sipid, their tone intolerable, their every movement 
 artificial ; in the very softness of their speech his 
 ear detected scorn which revolted him and yet 
 he seemed to have grown timid in their presence 
 in the presence of those people, those enemies. . . 
 " Faugh, how disgusting! I embarrass them, I 
 seem ridiculous to them," kept whirling through 
 his brain:" and why do I remain here? Let me 
 
 109
 
 SMOKE 
 
 go, let me go at once!" Irma's presence could 
 not detain him : she also aroused melancholy emo- 
 tions in him. He rose from his chair and began 
 to take leave. 
 
 " Are you going already? " said Irina, but 
 after a little reflection she ceased to insist, and 
 merely made him promise that he would not fail 
 to call on her. General Ratmiroff, with the same 
 refined courtesy as before, took leave of him, shook 
 hands with him, and escorted him to the edge of 
 the platform. . . But Litvinoff had barely passed 
 round the first turn in the road, when a hearty 
 burst of laughter rang out behind him. This 
 laughter did not refer to him, but to the long- 
 expected Monsieur Verdier, who suddenly made 
 his appearance on the platform, in a Tyrolean 
 hat, a blue blouse, and mounted astride of an ass ; 
 but the blood fairly rushed to Litvinoff's cheeks, 
 and he felt bitter, as though wormwood had glued 
 his tightly -compressed lips together. ' The de- 
 spicable, vulgar creatures! " he muttered, without 
 taking into consideration that the few moments 
 spent in company of those people had not fur- 
 nished him any cause to express himself so 
 harshly. And Irina, the Irina who had once been 
 his, had got into that set! She moved in it, lived 
 in it, reigned in it, for it she had sacrificed her 
 own dignity, the best sentiments of her heart. . . 
 Evidently, all was as it should be; evidently, she 
 deserved no better fate! How glad he was that 
 
 110
 
 SMOKE 
 
 it had not occurred to her to question him as to his 
 intentions ! He would have been obliged to state 
 them before " them," in " their " presence. . . 
 " Not for any consideration! Never!" whispered 
 Litvmoff, inhaling a deep breath of the fresh air, 
 and descending the path to Baden almost at a 
 run. He thought of his affianced bride, of his 
 dear, good, holy Tanya, and how pure, how noble, 
 how upright, she appeared to him! With what 
 genuine emotion he recalled her features, her 
 words, even her habits . . . with what impatience 
 did he await her return! 
 
 His rapid pace calmed his nerves. On reach- 
 ing home he seated himself at the table, took a 
 book in his hand, and suddenly threw it down, 
 and even shuddered. . What had happened to 
 him? Nothing had happened to him, but Irina 
 . . . Irina ... his encounter with her suddenly 
 struck him as surprising, strange, unusual. Was 
 it possible he had met, had talked with that same 
 Irina? . . . And why did not that repulsive, 
 worldly stamp, wherewith all the others were so 
 plainly marked, lie upon her also? Why did it 
 seem to him that she was bored, or grieved, or 
 oppressed by her position? She was in their 
 camp, but she was not an enemy. And what 
 could have made her treat him with such cordial- 
 ity, ask him to come to her? 
 
 Litvmoff gave a start." Oh Tanya, Tanya! " 
 he exclaimed impulsively: " thou art my angel, 
 
 111
 
 SMOKE 
 
 my good genius I love thee alone and will al- 
 ways love thee. And I will not go to that woman. 
 I will have nothing whatever to do with herl Let 
 her amuse herself with her generals 1" 
 Litvinoff again took up a book.
 
 XI 
 
 LITVINOFF took up a book, but he could not 
 read. He left the house, strolled about a little, 
 listened to the music, stared a while at the gam- 
 ing, and again returned to his room again made 
 an attempt to read still without success. Time, 
 for some reason, dragged on with particular slow- 
 ness. Pishtchalkin, the well-meaning arbitrator 
 of the peace, came in, and sat there for about three 
 hours. He conversed, explained, put questions, 
 argued in the intervals now on lofty themes, 
 now on useful ones, and at last diffused such 
 tedium that poor Litvinoff almost set up a howl. 
 In the art of inspiring tedium, melancholy, cold, 
 helpless, hopeless tedium, Pishtchalkin had no 
 rival, even among the people of the loftiest moral- 
 ity, who are well-known masters in that line. The 
 mere sight of his closely-clipped, smoothly- 
 brushed head, of his light, lifeless eyes, his well- 
 formed nose, inspired involuntary despondency, 
 and his slow, baritone, apparently slumbering 
 voice, seemed to have been created for the purpose 
 of uttering, with conviction and perspicuity, 
 apophthegms to the effect that two and two make 
 four, and not five, and not three; that water is 
 wet, and that virtue is laudable; that a private 
 
 113
 
 SMOKE 
 
 person, equally with an empire, and an empire, 
 equally with a private person, must have credit 
 for financial operations. And withal, he was a 
 most excellent man ! But such is the fate decreed 
 to Russia: our most excellent people are tire- 
 some. Pishtchalkin withdrew ; Bindasoff took his 
 place, and slowly, with immense impudence, de- 
 manded that Litvinoff should lend him one hun- 
 dred guldens, which the latter gave him, in spite 
 of the fact that he not only took no interest in 
 Bindasoff, but even loathed him, and knew for 
 a certainty that he would never get his money 
 back again ; moreover, he needed it himself. Then 
 why did he give it to him? the reader asks. The 
 devil knows why ! The Russians are great fellows 
 at that. Let the reader lay his hand on his heart 
 and recall how many acts in 'his own life have 
 had, positively, no other cause. But Bindasoff 
 did not even thank Litvinoff: he demanded a 
 glass of Affenthaler (the red wine of Baden) and 
 went away, without wiping his lips, and with a 
 rude clumping of his boots. And how angry Lit- 
 vinoff was with himself, as he gazed at the red 
 neck of the departing monopolist! Just before 
 evening he received a letter from Tanya, in which 
 she informed him that in consequence of her 
 aunt's illness she could not reach Baden in less 
 than five or six days. This news produced an un- 
 pleasant effect on Litvinoff: it aggravated his 
 vexation, and he went to bed early in an evil 
 
 114
 
 SMOKE 
 
 frame of mind. The following day turned out 
 no better than the preceding, worse, if anything. 
 From early morning Litvinoff 's room was filled 
 with his fellow-countrymen : Bambaeff, Voroshi- 
 lofT, Pishtchalkin, the two officers, the two Hei- 
 delberg students, all thronged in at once, and 
 never took their departure until almost dinner- 
 time, although they speedily talked themselves 
 out, and were evidently bored. They simply 
 did not know what to do with themselves, and 
 having once got into Litvfnoff's quarters, they 
 " stuck " there, as the expression is. At first they 
 discussed the fact that GubaryofF had gone back 
 to Heidelberg, and that they must betake them- 
 selves to him; then they philosophised a little, 
 touched on the Polish question; then they pro- 
 ceeded to argue about gambling, courtesans, be- 
 gan to narrate scandalous anecdotes; at last a 
 conversation arose about strong men, fat men, 
 and gluttons. Ancient anecdotes were dragged 
 out into the light of day, about Lukin, about the 
 deacon who devoured, on a wager, thirty-three 
 herrings, about the colonel of Uhlans, Izyedinoff, 
 well known for his obesity, about the soldier who 
 broke a beef -bone over his own forehead ; and then 
 came downright lies. Pishtchalkin himself nar- 
 rated, with a yawn, that he knew a peasant woman 
 in Little Russia, who, at her death, weighed 
 twenty-seven puds 1 and several pounds, and a 
 
 lA jnid is thirty-six pounds. TBAHSLATOE. 
 
 115
 
 SMOKE 
 
 landed proprietor, who had devoured three geese 
 and a sturgeon for breakfast. Bambaeff sud- 
 denly went into raptures, and declared that he 
 himself was in a condition to eat a whole sheep, 
 " of course, with condiments," while Voroshfloff 
 rashly made such an absurd remark about his 
 comrade, the muscular cadet, that all became 
 silent, remained silent, stared at one another, 
 took their hats, and dispersed. When he was 
 left alone, LitvinofF tried to occupy himself 
 with some work, but it seemed exactly as though 
 soot had got into his head; he could do nothing 
 of value, and the evening also was wasted. On 
 the following morning, as he was preparing to 
 breakfast, some one knocked at his door. " O 
 Lord!" said LitvinofF to himself, " there 's 
 some one of those friends of , yesterday again," 
 and not without considerable shuddering, he 
 called out : 
 
 "Herein!" 
 
 The door opened very softly, and Potugin en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 LitvinofF was extremely glad to see him. 
 
 "This is delightful!" he exclaimed, warmly 
 pressing the hand of his unexpected guest: 
 "thank you! I should certainly have called on 
 you, but you would not tell me where you live. 
 Sit down, please, lay aside your hat. Sit down, I 
 say!" 
 
 Potugin made no reply to Litvmoff's friendly 
 116
 
 SMOKE 
 
 speeches, but stood shifting from foot to foot in 
 the middle of the room, and merely laughed and 
 rocked his head. Litvinoff's joyous reception 
 evidently touched him, but there was something 
 constrained in the expression of his face. 
 
 ' There . . is a little misunderstanding here 
 . . ." he began, not without hesitation." Of 
 course I am always pleased . . . but, to tell the 
 truth . . I have been sent to you." 
 
 '* That is, you mean to say," remarked Litvi- 
 noff in a mournful tone," that you would not 
 have come to me of your own accord? " 
 
 " O, no, good gracious! . . . But I . . I per- 
 haps I should not have made up my mind to in- 
 trude upon you to-day, if I had not been re- 
 quested to call on you. In short, I have a message 
 for you." 
 
 " From whom, permit me to inquire? " 
 
 " From a person of your acquaintance: from 
 Irina Pavlovna Ratmiroff . Two days ago you 
 promised to call upon her, and you have not 
 done so." 
 
 Litvinoff fixed his eyes in amazement upon 
 Potugin. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with Madame Ratmi- 
 roff?" 
 
 " As you see." 
 
 " And do you know her intimately? " 
 
 " I am her friend, to a certain degree." 
 
 Litvinoff said nothing. 
 117
 
 SMOKE 
 
 "Allow me to ask you," he began at last: 
 " do you know why Irina Pavlovna wishes to 
 see me? " 
 
 Potugin walked to the window. 
 
 ' Yes, to a certain extent I do know. So far 
 as I am able to judge, she was greatly delighted 
 at her meeting with you, well, and so she wishes 
 to renew your former relations." 
 
 " Renew! " repeated Litvinoff. " Excuse my 
 indiscretion, but permit me to ask you still an- 
 other question. Do you know the nature of those 
 relations? " 
 
 " To tell the truth, no, I do not. But I as- 
 sume," added Potugin, suddenly turning to Lit- 
 vinoff, and gazing at him in a friendly way: " I 
 assume that they were of a good sort. Irina Pav- 
 lovna praised you highly, and I had to give 
 her my word that I would bring you. You will 
 go?" 
 
 " When? " 
 
 " Now . . . immediately." 
 
 Litvinoff merely flung out his hands with a 
 gesture of surprise. 
 
 " Irina Pavlovna," went on Potiigin, " takes 
 it for granted that that . . . how shall I express 
 it ... that set of people, let us say, in which you 
 found her two days before yesterday, could not 
 have aroused any special sympathy in you; but 
 she has commanded me to say that the devil is not 
 as black as he is painted." 
 
 118
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " H'm Is that expression applied pre- 
 cisely to that . . . . set? " 
 ' Yes . . and in general." 
 
 "H'm . . . Well, and what is your own opin- 
 ion about the devil, Sozont Ivanitch? " 
 
 " I think, Grigory Mikhailitch, that, in any 
 case, he is not what he is represented to be." 
 
 " Is he better? " 
 
 ' Whether he is better or worse it is difficult 
 to decide, but he is not as represented. Well, how 
 is it to be? Shall we go?" 
 
 ' You sit here a while first. I must confess, 
 that it strikes me as rather strange. ." 
 
 ' What does, if I may presume to inquire? " 
 
 " How have you you in particular been able 
 to become the friend of Irina Pavlovna? " 
 
 Potugin surveyed himself with a glance. 
 ' With my figure and my position in society, 
 it really does seem incredible; but you know- 
 Shakespeare said : ' There are many things, friend 
 Horatio,' and so forth. Life also does not like 
 to jest. Here 's a comparison for you : a tree 
 stands before you, and there is no wind ; how can 
 a leaf on the lowest bough touch a leaf on the 
 highest bough? In no way whatever. But let a 
 storm arise, and everything gets mixed up and 
 those two leaves come into contact." 
 
 "Aha! That means that there has been a 
 storm? " 
 
 " I should think so! Can one get along in life 
 119
 
 SMOKE 
 
 without storms? But away with philosophy. It 
 is time to go." 
 
 But Litvinoff still hesitated. 
 
 "O Lord!" exclaimed Potiigin, with a com- 
 ical grimace:" how queer the young men have 
 become nowadays! The most charming of 
 women invites them to her, sends a messenger 
 after them, a special messenger, and they stand 
 on ceremony ! Shame on you, my dear sir, shame 
 on you! Here 's your hat. Take it, and ' vor- 
 warts! ' as our friends the ardent Germans say." 
 
 Litvinoff still stood for a space in thought, but 
 ended by taking his hat, and sallying forth from 
 his chamber with Potugin.
 
 XII 
 
 THEY came to one of the best hotels in Baden, and 
 asked for Madame Ratmiroff . The hall-porter 
 first inquired their names, then immediately re- 
 plied, <e die Frau Fiirstin ist zu House" and him- 
 self conducted them up the stairs, knocked on the 
 door of the room with his own hand, and an- 
 nounced them. "Die Frau Fiirstin" received 
 them at once; she was alone: her husband had 
 gone off to Karlsruhe to meet an official big-wig, 
 one of "the influential personages, "who was pass- 
 ing through. Irina was seated beside a small 
 table and embroidering on canvas when Potiigin 
 and Litvfnoff crossed the threshold. She hastily 
 threw aside her sewing, pushed the table away, and 
 rose; an expression of unfeigned satisfaction 
 spread over her face. She wore a morning gown, 
 closed to the throat ; the beautiful outlines of her 
 shoulders and arms were visible through the thin 
 material; her carelessly twisted hair had become 
 loosened, and fell low on her slender neck. Irina 
 cast a swift glance at Potiigin, whispered 
 "merci" and offered her hand to LitvinofF, amia- 
 bly reproaching him for his forgetfulness. " And 
 an old friend at that," she added. 
 
 121
 
 SMOKE 
 
 LitvmofF began to make excuses. " C'est bien, 
 cest bien" she said hastily, and taking his hat 
 from him with gracious force, she made him sit 
 down. Potugin also seated himself, but imme- 
 diately rose, and saying that he had business which 
 could not be deferred, and that he would drop in 
 after dinner, he took his leave. Irina again threw 
 him a swift glance and gave him a friendly nod, 
 and as soon as he had disappeared behind the por- 
 tiere, she turned to Litvinoff with impatient 
 vivacity. 
 
 " Grigory Mikhailovitch," she began in Rus- 
 sian, in her soft and resonant voice: " here we 
 are alone at last, and I can say to you that I am 
 very glad of our meeting, because it ... it af- 
 fords me the opportunity . . ." (Irina looked him 
 straight in the face), "to ask, your forgiveness." 
 
 Litvinoff involuntarily shuddered. He had 
 not anticipated such a rapid attack. He had not 
 anticipated that she herself would turn the con- 
 versation on bygone days. 
 
 " For what . . forgiveness ..." he stam- 
 mered out. 
 
 Irina blushed. 
 
 " For what? . . you know for what," she said, 
 and turned aside a little." I was to blame to- 
 ward you, Grigory Mikhailitch . . although, of 
 course, such was my fate " (LitvinoiF recalled her 
 letter) , " and I do not regret it . . in any case, 
 it would be too late; but when I met you so un- 
 
 122
 
 SMOKE 
 
 expectedly, I said to myself that we must become 
 friends without fail without fail . . . and I 
 should have felt deeply pained if it had not suc- 
 ceeded . . . and it seems to me, that to that end, 
 you and I must have an explanation without 
 delay, and once for all, in order that thereafter 
 there might be no ... gene, no awkwardness, 
 once for all, Grigory Mikhailovitch ; and that 
 you ought to tell me that you forgive me, 
 otherwise I shall suspect in you . . . de la ran- 
 cune. Voila! It may be a great piece of assump- 
 tion on my part, because you, in all probability, 
 have long ago forgotten everything, but, never- 
 theless, do tell me that you have forgiven me." 
 
 Irma uttered this entire speech without taking 
 breath, and Litvinoff could see that tears glis- 
 tened in her eyes . . yes, actually tears. 
 
 "Pray, Irma Pavlovna," he hastily began: 
 " are n't you ashamed to excuse yourself, to ask 
 forgiveness . . it is an affair of the past, it has 
 utterly lapsed out of existence, and I can but feel 
 surprised that you, in the midst of the splendour 
 which surrounds you, can still have preserved a 
 memory of the gloomy companion of your early 
 youth. . ." 
 
 " Does that surprise you? " said Irina softly. 
 
 "It touches me," replied Litvinoff : " be- 
 cause I could not possibly imagine ..." 
 
 " But you have not yet told me that you have 
 forgiven me," interrupted Irma. 
 
 123
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " I rejoice sincerely in your happiness, Irina 
 Pavlovna; with all my soul I wish you the very 
 best on earth. . . ." 
 
 " And you bear no ill-will? " 
 
 " I remember only those fair moments, for 
 which I was, in times past, indebted to you." 
 
 Irina extended both her hands to him. Litvi- 
 noff pressed them warmly, and did not imme- 
 diately release them. ... A mysterious some- 
 thing which had long ceased to exist began to stir 
 in his heart at that soft contact. Again Irina 
 looked him straight in the face; but this time he 
 smiled. . . And for the first time he gazed directly 
 and intently at her. . . Again he recognised the 
 features, once so dear, and those deep eyes with 
 their unusual lashes, and the little mole on the 
 cheek, and the peculiar sweep of the hair above 
 the brow, and her habit of curling her lips in a 
 certain gracious and amusing way, and of im- 
 parting to her eyebrows the suspicion of a quiver, 
 he recognised all, all. . . But how much more 
 beautiful she had grown! What charm and 
 power in the young feminine body! And there 
 was neither red paint, nor white, nor blackening 
 for the eyebrows, nor powder, nor any sort of 
 artificiality on the fresh, pure face. . . Yes, she 
 was a real beauty ! 
 
 A meditative mood took possession of Litvi- 
 noff. . . . He continued to gaze at her, but his 
 thoughts were already far away. . . Irina ob- 
 served this. 
 
 124
 
 SMOKE 
 
 'Well, that's capital," she said aloud: 
 4 Well, now my conscience is at ease, and I can 
 satisfy my curiosity. . . ." 
 
 " Curiosity," repeated Litvinoff, as though in 
 perplexity. 
 
 ' Yes, yes. . . I insist upon knowing what you 
 have been doing all this time, what your plans 
 are; I want to know everything just the same as 
 when . . . everything, everything . . . and you 
 must tell me the truth, because, I warn you, that 
 I have not lost sight of you ... so far as that 
 has been possible. . ." 
 
 ' You have not lost sight of me, you . . . there 
 . . in Petersburg? " 
 
 " In the midst of the splendour which sur- 
 rounds me, as you just expressed it. Yes, ex- 
 actly that ; I have not lost sight of you. You and 
 I will discuss the splendour later on ; but now you 
 must narrate to me a great deal, narrate at 
 length; no one will disturb us. Akh, how splen- 
 did that will be!" added Irina, merrily, seating 
 herself in an arm-chair and putting on a pretty 
 air." Come, now, begin." 
 
 " Before I tell my story, I must thank you," 
 began Litvinoff. 
 
 " What for? " 
 
 " For the bouquet of flowers which made its 
 appearance in my chamber." 
 
 " What bouquet? I know nothing about it." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I tell you, I know nothing about it. . . But 
 125
 
 SMOKE 
 
 I am waiting . . . waiting for your story. Akh, 
 what a clever fellow that Potugin is to have 
 brought you ! " 
 
 Litvinoff pricked up his ears. 
 
 " Have you been acquainted long with that Mr. 
 Potugin? " he inquired. 
 
 ' Yes, for a long time . . . but tell your story." 
 
 " And do you know him intimately? " 
 
 " Oh, yes! " Irfna sighed. * There are pecu- 
 liar reasons for it. . . You have heard of Eliza 
 Byelsky, of course. . . The one who died such a 
 frightful death last year? Akh, yes, I had for- 
 gotten that our stories are not known to you. 
 Happily, happily, you do not know them. Oh, 
 quelle chance! at last, at last, there is one man, 
 a live man, who knows none of our affairs! 
 And one can talk Russian with him, bad 
 Russian, but Russian all the same, and not 
 that eternal, affected, repulsive Petersburg 
 French!" 
 
 " And you say that Potugin had some connec- 
 tion with . . ." 
 
 " It is very painful to me to recall that," inter- 
 posed Irina. " Eliza was my best friend at the 
 Institute, and afterward, in Petersburg, we saw 
 each other constantly. She confided to me all her 
 secrets : she was very unhappy, she suffered much. 
 Potugin behaved splendidly in that affair, like a 
 genuine knight! He sacrificed himself. It was 
 only then that I prized him at his true value ! But 
 
 126
 
 SMOKE 
 
 we have digressed again. I am waiting for your 
 story, Grigory Mikhailovitch." 
 
 "But my story cannot in the least interest you, 
 Irina Pavlovna." 
 
 ' That is no concern of yours." 
 
 " Remember, Irina Pavlovna, we have not met 
 for ten years. How much has happened, how 
 much water has flowed past since then! " 
 
 "Not water only! not water only!" she re- 
 peated, with a peculiar, bitter expression: " and 
 that is why I wish to hear you. . ." 
 
 " And, moreover, I really cannot think where 
 to begin." 
 
 " At the beginning. From the very time when 
 you . . . when I went away to Petersburg. You 
 then remained in Moscow. . . Do you know, I 
 have never been back to Moscow since that 
 day!" 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 " At first it was not possible, and afterward, 
 when I married ..." 
 
 " And have you been married long? " 
 
 " Three years." 
 
 ' You have no children? " 
 
 " No," she replied drily. 
 
 Litvinoff fell silent. 
 
 " And until your marriage you lived altogether 
 with that what 's his name Count Reisen- 
 bach? " 
 
 Irina contemplated him fixedly, as though de- 
 
 127
 
 SMOKE 
 
 sirous of comprehending why he asked that ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " No . . ." she said at last. 
 
 " Consequently, your parents. . . By the way, 
 I have not asked you about them. How are 
 they? . . ." 
 
 " They are both well." 
 
 " And they live in Moscow as formerly? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And your brothers and sisters? " 
 
 " All is well with them ; I have provided for 
 them all." 
 
 " Ah! " Litvinoff cast a sidelong glance at 
 Irma. " As a matter of fact, Irina Pavlovna, it 
 is not I who ought to relate the story, but you, 
 if only . . ." 
 
 He suddenly caught himself up, and stopped 
 speaking. 
 
 Irina raised her hands to her face, and began to 
 twist her wedding ring round on her finger. 
 
 " Do you think so? I do not refuse," she 
 said at last." Some time, if you like. . . But 
 it is your turn first . . because, you see, I 
 have kept watch over you, yet I know almost 
 nothing about you; but about me . . . well, 
 about me, you surely must have heard a good 
 deal. Is n't that true ? Tell me, you have heard 
 things?" 
 
 ' You have occupied too prominent a place in 
 the world, Irina Pavlovna, not to start rumours 
 
 128
 
 SMOKE 
 
 . . . especially in the country districts where I 
 was, and where every rumour is believed." 
 
 "And you believed those rumours? And of 
 what sort were they? " 
 
 " I must confess, Irina Pavlovna, that those 
 rumours very rarely reached my ears. I led an 
 extremely isolated life." 
 
 " How so? Were not you in the Crimea, in 
 the militia?" 
 
 " And is that known to you? " 
 
 " As you see. I tell you that you were 
 watched." 
 
 Again Litvinoif was forced to wonder. 
 
 '* Why should I tell you what is already known 
 to you without that? " said Litvinoff, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Because . . because . . in order to comply 
 with my request. I entreat you, Grigory Mi- 
 khailovitch." 
 
 Litvinoff inclined his head, and began . . . be- 
 gan rather confusedly, in general outlines, to 
 communicate to Irina his far from complicated 
 adventures. He paused frequently, and cast an in- 
 quiring glance at Irina, as much as to say: " Is n't 
 this enough ? " But she insistently demanded that 
 he should continue his narration, and pushing her 
 hair back behind her ears, and resting her elbows 
 on the arms of the easy-chair, seemed to be seizing 
 every word with strained attention. Any one 
 looking at her from a distance, and watching the 
 
 129
 
 SMOKE 
 
 expression of her face, might have thought that 
 she was not listening to what Litvinoff was tell- 
 ing her, but was merely immersed in meditation. 
 . . But she was not meditating upon Litvinoff , 
 although he became embarrassed, and flushed 
 crimson beneath her persistent gaze. Before her 
 had started forth a whole life, another life, not 
 his her own life. 
 
 Litvinoff did not finish, but fell silent, under 
 the influence of a disagreeable sensation of con- 
 stantly augmenting, inward discomfort. This 
 time Irina said nothing to him, did not ask him 
 to continue, and pressing her palm to her eyes, 
 as though weary, she slowly leaned against the 
 back of her chair and remained motionless. Lit- 
 vinoff waited a while, and reflecting that his visit 
 had already lasted more than, two hours, was on 
 the point of extending his hand to take his hat, 
 when suddenly, in the adjoining room, the swift 
 squeak of thin, lacquered boots resounded, and, 
 preceded by that same odour of nobility and the 
 Guards, Valerian Vladfmirovitch Ratmiroff en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 Litvinoff rose from his chair, and exchanged 
 a bow with the good-looking general. But Irina, 
 without any haste, removed her hand from her 
 face, and bestowing a cold glance upon her hus- 
 band, remarked, in French : " Ah ! So you have 
 returned! But what time is it? " 
 
 " It is almost four o'clock, ma chere amie j and 
 130
 
 SMOKE 
 
 you are not yet dressed the Princess will be wait- 
 ing for us," replied the general, and with an ele- 
 gant inclination of his body in the direction of 
 Litvinoff , with the almost effeminate playfulness 
 in his voice which was peculiar to him, he added : 
 
 " Evidently, your amiable guest has made you 
 forget the time." 
 
 The reader will permit us to impart to him, at 
 this point, a few facts concerning General Rat- 
 mfroff. His father was the natural . . . what 
 do you think? You are not mistaken, but we did 
 not wish to say it ... the natural son of a prom- 
 inent grandee of the times of Alexander I., and 
 of a pretty little French actress. The grandee 
 had opened a career for his son, but had left him 
 no property, and that son (the father of our 
 hero) had not succeeded in becoming rich either: 
 he had died with the rank of colonel, in the voca- 
 tion of chief of police. A year before his death 
 he had married a pretty young widow, who had 
 been obliged to have recourse to his protection. 
 His son and the widow's, Valerian Vladimiro- 
 vitch, having got into the Pages Corps through 
 influence, had attracted the attention of the au- 
 thoritiesnot so much by proficiency in his stud- 
 ies as by his military bearing, his good manners, 
 and his good morals (although he had been sub- 
 jected to everything, which all former pupils of 
 the government military institutions must under- 
 go), and had graduated into the Guards. He 
 
 131
 
 SMOKE 
 
 had made a brilliant career, thanks to the modest 
 gaiety of his disposition, his skill in dancing, his 
 masterly riding as orderly officer at parades 
 mostly on other people's horses and, in conclu- 
 sion, to a special art of familiarly-respectful be- 
 haviour toward the loftiest personages, a mourn- 
 fully-caressing, almost forlorn, obsequiousness, 
 not devoid of a dash of liberalism, light as down. 
 . . This liberalism did not prevent him, neverthe- 
 less, from soundly flogging fifty peasants in a 
 revolted White Russian village, which he had been 
 sent to pacify. He was the possessor of an at- 
 tractive and extremely youthful exterior ; smooth, 
 ruddy, supple and adhesive: he enjoyed remark- 
 able success with the women: distinguished old 
 ladies fairly went wild over him. Cautious by 
 habit, taciturn through calculation, General Rat- 
 miroff, like the industrious bee, which extracts 
 juice even from wretched flowers, was constantly 
 circulating in the highest society and, devoid of 
 morality, devoid of every sort of knowledge, but 
 with the reputation of a capable man, with a good 
 scent for people, and comprehension of circum- 
 stances, and chief of all with an inflexibly firm 
 desire of good things for himself he at last saw 
 all roads open before him. . . 
 
 Litvinoff smiled in a constrained way and Irina 
 merely shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Well," she said, in the same cold tone," did 
 you see the Count? " 
 
 132
 
 " Of course I saw him. He asked to be remem- 
 bered to you." 
 
 " Ah! Is he still as stupid as ever, that pro- 
 tector of yours? " 
 
 General Ratmiroff made no reply, and only 
 laughed a little through his nose, as though mak- 
 ing allowance for the precipitancy of woman's 
 judgment. Benevolent adults reply to the absurd 
 sallies of children with precisely that sort of a 
 laugh. 
 
 ' Yes," added Irina: " the stupidity of your 
 Count is too astounding, and it strikes me that I 
 have had plenty of opportunity to observe it." 
 
 " It was you yourself who sent me to him," re- 
 marked the general, through his teeth, and turn- 
 ing to Litvmoff, he asked him, in Russian: 
 " Was he undergoing a cure of the Baden 
 waters? " 
 
 " I am well, thank God," replied Litvmoff. 
 
 " That 's the best thing of all," went on the 
 general, with an amiable grin: "yes, and in 
 general, people do not come to Baden for the sake 
 of taking the cure; but the waters here are very 
 efficacious, je veux dire, efficaces; and for any one 
 who, like myself, for instance, is suffering from 
 a nervous cough. ..." 
 
 Irina rose in haste. "We shall meet again, 
 Grigory Mikhailovitch, and that soon, I hope," 
 she said in French, scornfully interrupting her 
 husband's speech: "but now I must go and 
 
 133
 
 SMOKE 
 
 dress. That old Princess is insufferable with her 
 eternal parties de plaisir f where there is nothing 
 but tedium." 
 
 ' You are very severe on everything to-day," 
 muttered her husband, and slipped into the other 
 room. 
 
 LitvinofF went toward the door. 
 ' You have told me everything," she said, " but 
 you have concealed the principal thing." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " It is said that you are going to marry? " 
 
 Litvinoff crimsoned to his very ears. . . In 
 fact, he had deliberately refrained from mention- 
 ing Tanya; but he felt frightfully vexed, in the 
 first place, because Irina knew about his mar- 
 riage, and in the second, because she had caught 
 him, as it were, in a desire to hide the marriage 
 from her. Decidedly, he did not know what to 
 say, but Irina never took her eyes from him. 
 
 * Yes, I am about to marry," he said at last, 
 and immediately took his departure. 
 
 RatmirofF returned to the room. 
 
 " Well, why don't you get dressed? " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Go alone; my head aches." 
 
 " But the Princess . . ." 
 
 Irina measured her husband with a glance from 
 head to foot, turned her back on him, and went 
 off to her dressing-room. 
 
 134
 
 XIII 
 
 LITVINOFF was extremely dissatisfied with him- 
 self, as though he had lost money at roulette, or 
 had broken his pledged word. . An inward voice 
 told him, that as an affianced bridegroom, as a 
 staid grown man, and no longer a boy, it was not 
 proper for him to listen to the instigations of curi- 
 osity, nor to the seductions of memory. " Much 
 need there was for me to go! " he argued. " On 
 her side it was nothing but coquetry, a whim, ca- 
 price. . She is bored, she has grown tired of every 
 thing, she caught at me ... a dainty person 
 sometimes suddenly longs for black bread . . . 
 well, and that 's all right. But why did I run to 
 her? Could I . . help despising her?" This 
 last word he did not utter, even mentally, without 
 an effort. " Of course, there is no danger what- 
 ever, and there can be none ": he resumed his ar- 
 gument. " For I know with whom I have to deal. 
 But, nevertheless, one should not play with fire. 
 . . I won't set foot in her house again." Litvi- 
 noff did not dare, or could not yet, admit to him- 
 self, to what a degree Irina had seemed beautiful 
 to him, and how powerfully she had aroused his 
 emotion. 
 
 135
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Again the day passed in a dull and languid 
 manner. At dinner he chanced to sit beside a " bel 
 homme" of fine bearing, with dyed moustache, 
 who uttered not a word, but merely puffed and 
 opened his eyes very wide . . . but, being sud- 
 denly seized with hiccough, proved to be a fellow- 
 countryman, for he instantly said in Russian: 
 " Did n 't I say that I ought not to eat melons! " 
 In the evening also nothing cheering happened: 
 Bindasoff, before Litvinoff's very eyes, won a 
 sum four times as large as the one he had bor- 
 rowed from him, but not only did not repay 
 the debt, but even looked him in the face with a 
 menacing glance, as though preparing to casti- 
 gate him even more painfully for having been a 
 witness of his winnings. On the following morn- 
 ing the horde of fellow-countrymen descended 
 upon him again ; it was with difficulty that Litvi- 
 noff got rid of them, and betaking himself to the 
 mountains, hit upon Irina the very first thing 
 he pretended that he did not recognise her, and 
 passed swiftly by ; then on Potugin. He was on 
 the point of entering into conversation with Po- 
 tugin, but the latter answered him unwillingly. 
 He was leading by the hand a smartly attired lit- 
 tle girl, with fluffy, almost white locks, great dark 
 eyes in a pale, sickly little face, and that peculiar 
 imperious, impatient expression, which is charac- 
 teristic of spoiled children. Litvmoff spent a 
 couple of hours on the mountains, and then re- 
 
 136
 
 turned home, along Lichtenthaler Avenue. . . . 
 A lady with a blue veil over her face, who was 
 sitting on a bench, hastily rose and approached 
 him. . . He recognised Irina. 
 
 ' Why do you avoid me, Grigory Mikhailo- 
 vitch," she said in an unsteady voice, such as a 
 person uses whose heart is seething. 
 
 Litvinoff was embarrassed." Do I avoid you, 
 Irina Pavlovna? " 
 
 ' Yes, you . . . you . . . ." 
 Irina seemed agitated, almost incensed. 
 * You are mistaken, I assure you." 
 " No, I am not mistaken. Did not I see this 
 morning when we met, did not I see that you 
 knew me? Tell me, didn't you recognise me? 
 TeU me? " 
 
 " I really . . Irina Pavlovna . . ." 
 " Grigory Mikhailovitch, you are a straight- 
 forward man, you have always spoken the truth: 
 tell me tell me, surely you recognised me? you 
 turned aside deliberately." 
 
 Litvinoff glanced at Irina. Her eyes shone 
 with a strange brilliancy, but her lips and cheeks 
 gleamed with a death-like pallor through the close 
 meshes of her veil. In the expression of her face, 
 in the very sound of her impetuous whisper, there 
 was something so irresistibly mournful, beseech- 
 ing. . . . Litvinoff could dissimulate no longer. 
 " Yes. . . I recognised you," he said, not with- 
 out an effort. 
 
 137
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Irma shuddered softly, and softly dropped her 
 hands. 
 
 " Why did not you come to me? " she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 "Because . . . because! "Lit vinofF stepped 
 aside from the path. Irina silently followed him. 
 
 ' Why? " he repeated, and his face suddenly 
 lighted up, and a feeling akin to malice oppressed 
 his chest and his throat." You . . . you ask 
 that, after all that has taken place between us? 
 Not now, of course, not now, but there . . . there 
 ... in Moscow." 
 
 " But surely, you and I decided, surely you 
 promised . . ." Irma began. 
 
 " I promised nothing. Pardon the harshness 
 of my expressions, but you demand the truth 
 therefore judge for yourself: to what, if not to 
 coquetry, which is, I confess, incomprehensible 
 to me, to what, if not to a desire to try how much 
 power you still possess over me, can I attribute 
 your . . I do not know what to call it ... your 
 persistence? Our paths have become so widely 
 separated! I have forgotten everything, I have 
 long ago lived down the pain of it all, I have be- 
 come an entirely different man ; you are married, 
 happy, in appearance at least; you enjoy an en- 
 viable position in society; why then, to what end, 
 a renewal of acquaintance? What am I to you, 
 what are you to me? We cannot understand each 
 other now, we have absolutely nothing in common 
 
 138
 
 now, either in the past or in the present ! Espe- 
 cially . . . especially in the past!" 
 
 Litvmoff pronounced the whole of this speech 
 hurriedly, abruptly, without turning his head. 
 Irina did not stir, and only from time to time, 
 almost imperceptibly, extended her hands toward 
 him. She seemed to be entreating him to stop and 
 listen to her, and at his last words slightly bit her 
 under lip, as though crushing down a sentiment 
 of keen, swift injury. 
 
 " Grigory Mikhaflovitch," she began at last, in 
 a more composed voice, and retreated still further 
 from the path, along which, now and then, people 
 passed. . . 
 
 LitvmofF, in turn, followed her. 
 
 " Grigory Mikhailovitch, believe me: if I could 
 have imagined that I still retained an atom of 
 power over you, I would have been the first to 
 avoid you. If I did not do so, if I made up my 
 mind, in spite of ... of my past fault, to renew 
 acquaintance with you, it was because . . . be- 
 cause . . ." 
 
 " Because? " inquired Litvinoff, almost 
 roughly. 
 
 "Because," replied Irfna, with sudden force: 
 
 " because that society, that enviable position of 
 which you speak, have become unbearable, insuf- 
 ferable to me; because, on meeting you, a live 
 man, after all those dead dolls you were able to 
 view specimens of them three days ago at the 
 
 139
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Vieux Chateau, I rejoiced as at a well in the 
 desert, but you call me a coquette, and suspect 
 me, and repulse me under the pretext that I really 
 was to blame toward you, and still more toward 
 myself!" 
 
 * You chose your own destiny, Irma Pav- 
 lovna," said Litvinoff surlily, and still without 
 turning his head. 
 
 " I did, I did . . . and I do not complain ; I 
 have no right to complain," hastily said Irina, to 
 whom Litvinoff's very sternness afforded secret 
 delight; " I know that you must condemn me, 
 and I do not defend myself; I only wish to ex- 
 plain to you my sentiment, I wish to convince you 
 that I am not disposed to coquet now. . I coquet 
 with you! Why, there is no sense in that! . . . 
 When I saw you, all that was good, all that was 
 young in me, awoke . . . the time when I had 
 not yet chosen my destiny, everything which lies 
 there in that bright zone, beyond those ten 
 years. ..." 
 
 " But permit me, at last, Irma Pavlovna! So 
 far as I am aware, the bright zone in your life 
 began precisely with the moment of our 
 parting. . ." 
 
 Irina raised her handkerchief to her lips. 
 
 ' What you say is very cruel, Grigory Mi- 
 khailovitch; but I cannot be angry with you. Oh, 
 no, that was not a brilliant time; it was not for 
 my happiness that I quitted Moscow. Not one in- 
 
 140
 
 SMOKE 
 
 slant, not one minute of happiness have I known 
 . . . believe me, whatever you may have been told. 
 If I had been happy, could I talk with you as I 
 am doing now? . . I repeat it, you do not know 
 what those people are like. . Why, they under- 
 stand nothing, sympathise with nothing, they 
 have not even any minds, ni esprit,, ni intelligence, 
 but only cunning and tact ; why, in reality, music, 
 poetry, and art are alike unknown to them. . . 
 You will say that I myself was fairly indifferent 
 to all this; but not to that degree, Grigory Mi- 
 khailovitch . . . not to that degree! It is not a 
 fashionable woman whom you now see before 
 you. You have only to look at me, not a lioness 
 ... it seems that is what we are called . . . but 
 a poor, poor creature, who is really deserving of 
 compassion. Be not astonished at my words. . . 
 I am not disposed to be proud now! I reach out 
 my hand to you as a beggar, understand it, at 
 last, as a beggar. . . I entreat alms," she added 
 suddenly, in an involuntary, irrepressible im- 
 pulse:" I ask for alms, and you . . . ." 
 
 Her voice failed her. Litvinoff raised his head 
 and looked at Irma; she was breathing rapidly, 
 her lips were quivering. His heart suddenly be- 
 gan to beat hard, and his feeling of wrath van- 
 ished. 
 
 " You say that our paths have parted," re- 
 sumed Irma: "I know you are marrying for 
 love; you have the plan for your whole life al-
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ready drawn up ; yes, it is so ; but we have not be- 
 come strangers to each other, Grigory Mikhailo- 
 vitch, we can still understand each other. Or do 
 you suppose that I have become utterly stupid 
 that I have become utterly mired in this swamp? 
 Akh, no, do not think that, please! Let me ease 
 my soul, I beg of you, if only in the name of those 
 by-gone days, if you are not bent on forgetting 
 them. Let not our meeting have been in vain; 
 that would be too bitter, and it will not last long, 
 in any case. . . I do not know how to express 
 myself as I should ; but do understand me, for I 
 ask little, very little . . . only a trifle of happi- 
 ness, only that you will not repulse me, that you 
 will give me a chance to ease my soul. . ." 
 
 Irina paused, tears resounded in her voice. She 
 sighed and gazed at Litvmoff with a timid, rather 
 sidelong, searching glance, and offered him her 
 hand. . . 
 
 Litvinoff slowly took that hand, and faintly 
 pressed it. 
 
 " Let us be friends," whispered Irina. 
 
 " Friends," repeated Litvinoff thoughtfully. 
 ' Yes, friends . . . but if that is too great a 
 demand, then let us be, at least, good acquain- 
 tances. . . Let us not stand on ceremony just 
 as though nothing had ever happened. ..." 
 
 " As though nothing had ever happened . ." 
 repeated Litvmoff again. " You just told me, 
 Irina Pavlovna, that I am not willing to forget 
 
 142
 
 SMOKE 
 
 by-gone days. . Well, and what if I cannot forget 
 them?" 
 
 A blissful smile flashed across Irma's face, and 
 instantly vanished, making way for an anxious, 
 almost terrified expression. 
 
 " Do as I do, Grigory Mikhailovitch : remem- 
 ber only what is pleasant; but, above all, give me 
 your word now, your word of honour. . ." 
 
 " What about? " 
 
 " Not to avoid me . . . not to grieve me need- 
 lessly. . . Do you promise? tell me! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you will banish all evil thoughts from 
 your mind? " 
 
 ' Yes . . . but I still renounce the effort to 
 understand you." 
 
 * That is not necessary . . wait, however, and 
 you will understand me. But you promise? " 
 
 " I have already said: Yes." 
 
 " Thanks. Observe that I have become accus- 
 tomed to believe you. I shall expect you to-day 
 or to-morrow; I shall not leave the house. But 
 now I must leave you. The Duehess is walking 
 in the avenue. . . She has seen me, and I cannot 
 avoid going to her. . . Until we meet again. . . 
 Give me your hand, vite, vite. . Farewell for the 
 present." 
 
 And with a vigorous clasp of Litvinoff 's hand, 
 Irina directed her steps toward a middle-aged 
 person who was walking heavily along the sanded 
 
 143
 
 SMOKE 
 
 path, accompanied by two other ladies and a very 
 good-looking lackey. 
 
 "Eh, loon jour, chere madame," said this per- 
 son, while Irina respectfully courtesied before 
 her. " Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui? Venez 
 un pen avec moi."- " Votre Altesse a trop de 
 bonte" Irina's insinuating voice could be heard 
 in reply. 
 
 144
 
 XIV 
 
 LITVINOFF allowed the Duchess and all her suite 
 to depart, and then emerged upon the avenue 
 himself. He could not give himself a clear ac- 
 count of his sensations ; he felt both ashamed and 
 alarmed, and his self-love was flattered. . . The 
 unexpected explanation with Irina had taken him 
 unawares ; her burning, hurried words had swept 
 over him like a downpour of rain. " Queer peo- 
 ple those society women," he thought;" there 's 
 no coherence about them . . . and how the circle 
 in which they live perverts them, and the anoma- 
 lousness of it they feel themselves ! " . . . As a 
 matter of fact, he did not think that at all, but 
 was merely repeating mechanically those hack- 
 neyed phrases, as though desirous thereby of rid- 
 ding himself of other and more painful thoughts. 
 He comprehended that it ill-befitted him to medi- 
 tate seriously at present, that, in all probability, 
 he would be obliged to censure himself: and he 
 strolled slowly along, almost compelling himself 
 to turn his attention to everything which he en- 
 countered. . . All at once he found himself in 
 front of a bench, perceived beside it some one's 
 legs, ran his eyes up them. . . The legs belonged 
 
 145
 
 SMOKE 
 
 to a man who was sitting on the bench and read- 
 ing a newspaper; the man proved to be Potugin. 
 Litvinoff gave vent to a slight exclamation. 
 Potugin laid his paper on his knees and stared 
 attentively, unsmilingly, at Litvinoff, and Lit- 
 vinoff also stared attentively and unsmilingly at 
 Potugin. 
 
 "May I sit down beside you?" he asked at 
 last. 
 
 " Pray, do. Only I give you warning; if you 
 wish to enter into conversation with me you must 
 not be offended I 'm in the most misanthropic 
 frame of mind just now, and all objects present 
 themselves to me in an exaggeratedly -evil light." 
 
 ' That 's nothing, Sozont Ivanitch," said Lit- 
 vinoff, dropping down on the bench:" it is even 
 extremely opportune. . . But why has this mood 
 come upon you? " 
 
 " As a matter of fact, I ought not to be in a 
 rage," began Potugin. " Here I have just been 
 reading about the project for judicial reforms in 
 Russia, and with genuine satisfaction I perceive 
 that we have at last got some common sense, and 
 no longer intend under the pretext of independ- 
 ence there, of nationality or of originality, to 
 tack a home-made tail on to pure, clear European 
 logic; but, on the contrary, . . they are going to 
 take the foreign thing which is good complete. 
 That one concession in the affair of the peasants 
 was sufficient. . . Just try to get rid of com- 
 
 146
 
 SMOKE 
 
 munal tenure ! . . Quite true, quite true, I ought 
 not to be in a rage ; but, to my misfortune, I have 
 happened upon a self-made Russian I have been 
 talking with him, and those rough nuggets born 
 geniuses, and self-taught folks will worry me 
 into my grave! " 
 
 ' What sort of a born genius? " inquired Lit- 
 vinoff. 
 
 ' Why, that sort of a gentleman is running 
 about, who fancies himself a gifted musician. 
 ' I,' says he, ' of course am nothing ; I 'm a cipher 
 because I never had any education, but I possess 
 incomparably more melodies and more ideas than 
 Meyerbeer.' In the first place, I will remark: 
 why were not you educated? and, in the second, 
 not only Meyerbeer, but the meanest German 
 flute-player, who modestly whistles his part in 
 the meanest German orchestra, has twenty times 
 more ideas than all our born geniuses; only the 
 flute-player keeps his ideas to himself, and does 
 not thrust himself forward with them into the 
 company of Mozarts and Haydns; but our Rus- 
 sian genius gets out a little waltz or a little ro- 
 mance, slap dash, and behold there he is, hands 
 thrust into his pockets, and a scornful curl on his 
 mouth: ' I 'm a genius,' says he. And it 's just 
 the same with painting and everywhere. How I 
 detest those born geniuses! Who does not know 
 that people pride themselves upon them only in 
 places where there is no real science which has 
 
 147
 
 SMOKE 
 
 been assimilated into blood and flesh, nor real art. 
 Is n't it time to file away in the archives this 
 boastfulness, this vulgar rubbish, along with the 
 familiar phrases, to the effect that among us, in 
 Russia, no one dies of hunger, and that travelling 
 by road is of the swiftest sort, and that we can 
 kill everybody with a slap of our caps? They be- 
 siege me with the giftedness of the Russian na- 
 ture, with the instinct of genius, with Kulibins. 1 
 But what sort of giftedness is it, gentlemen, for 
 heaven's sake? It is the babbling of a man half 
 asleep, or a half -savage sagacity. Instinct! A 
 pretty thing to brag about, truly! Take an ant 
 in the forest, carry him off a verst away from his 
 hill: he will find the way back home; a man can 
 do nothing of the sort; what of that? is he lower 
 than the ant? Instinct, be it' ever so talented, is 
 unworthy of man: reason simple, sound, com- 
 monplace reason that 's our real fortune, our 
 pride; reason never plays any such pranks; and 
 that 's why everything is founded on it. But as 
 for Kulibin, who, without knowing anything 
 about mechanics, has constructed some extremely 
 absurd clocks or other, I would order those 
 same clocks to be placed on a pillar of scorn; 
 ' come, see, good people,' I would say, ' what you 
 must not do.' Kulibin is not to blame in the mat- 
 ter, but his work is worthless. To praise Telush- 
 
 l A character in Ostr6vsky's famous drama, " The Thunderstorm ; " 
 a self-taught genius of a clockmaker. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 148
 
 SMOKE 
 
 kin, because he climbed the spire of the Ad- 
 miralty, for his daring and skill that is permis- 
 sible; why should not he be praised? But it is 
 not proper to shout out something to the effect, 
 ' Has n't he made a laughing-stock of the for- 
 eign architects? and what 's the good of them? 
 they only take your money/ . . He did not 
 make a laughing-stock of them at all: afterward 
 they were obliged to erect a scaffolding around 
 the spire, and repair it in the ordinary way. For 
 God's sake, do not encourage such ideas among 
 us in Russia, as that anything can be attained 
 without teaching! No; though you be as wise 
 as Solomon, yet learn, learn from the alphabet 
 up! Otherwise, sit down, and hang your tail 
 between your legs! Faugh! I Ve even got 
 heated!" 
 
 Potugin took off his hat, and fanned himself 
 with his handkerchief. 
 
 "Russian art," he began again: " Russian 
 art! . . I know all about Russian limitations, 
 and I know Russian impotency also, but as for 
 Russian art, excuse me, but I have never met with 
 it. For twenty years in succession we bowed 
 down before that bloated cipher, Briulloff, and 
 imagined, if you please, that a school had been 
 founded among us, and that it was even destined 
 to be better than all the others. . . Russian art, 
 ha-ha-ha!ho-ho!" 
 
 " But permit me, Sozont Ivanitch," remarked 
 
 149
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Litvinoff. " That means that you do not recog- 
 nise Glinka either? " 
 
 Potugin scratched behind his ear. 
 
 " Exceptions, you know, only prove the rule, 
 but even in this case we could not get along with- 
 out bragging! If you were to say, for example, 
 that Glinka really was a remarkable musician, 
 who was prevented by circumstances, external 
 and internal, from becoming the founder of the 
 Russian opera, no one would dispute you; but 
 no ; how is that possible ! It immediately becomes 
 necessary to promote him to be commander-in- 
 chief, chief marshal of the Court in the depart- 
 ment of music, and rob other nations by the way : 
 ' they have nothing of the sort, if you please,' and 
 then you have pointed out to you some ' mighty ' 
 home-bred genius, whose compositions are noth- 
 ing more than a sorry imitation of second-class 
 foreign workers second-class, precisely that: 
 they are more easily imitated. Nothing of the 
 sort. Oh, wretched fools and savages, for whom 
 there exists no heritage of art, and artists some- 
 thing in the style of Rappeau : as much as to say, 
 a foreigner can lift six puds with one hand, but 
 our man can lift twelve! Nothing of the sort! 
 Let me inform you that I cannot get the follow- 
 ing memory out of my head. This spring I vis- 
 ited the Crystal Palace, in the suburbs of London ; 
 in that palace, as you are aware, there is some- 
 thing in the nature of an exhibition of everything 
 
 loO
 
 SMOKE 
 
 to which man's inventiveness has attained, the 
 encyclopaedia of humanity, it must be called. 
 Well, sir, I walked and walked past all those 
 machines and implements, and statues of great 
 men; and all the while I was thinking: if a decree 
 were issued to the effect that, together with the 
 disappearance from the face of the earth of any 
 nation, everything which that nation had in- 
 vented should immediately vanish from the Crys- 
 tal Palace, our dear mother, Orthodox Russia, 
 might sink down to the nethermost hell, and not 
 a single tack, not a single pin, would be disturbed, 
 the dear creature : everything would remain quite 
 calmly in its place, because even the samovar, 
 and linden-bast slippers, and the shaft-arch, and 
 the knout those renowned products of ours 
 were not invented by us. It would not be pos- 
 sible to try a similar experiment with the Sand- 
 wich Islands even; their inhabitants have in- 
 vented some sort of boats and spears: visitors 
 would notice their absence. That is calumny! 
 that is too harsh you may say. . . But I say: 
 in the first place, I do not know how to censure 
 with a grumble; in the second, it is evident that 
 no one can make up his mind to look not merely 
 the devil, but himself, straight in the eye, and it 
 is not the children only, with us, who like to be 
 lulled to sleep. Our ancient inventions were 
 brought to us from the East, our new ones we 
 have dragged over, after a fashion, from the 
 
 151
 
 SMOKE 
 
 West, and yet we continue to chatter about inde- 
 pendent Russian art ! Some daring persons have 
 even discovered a Russian science: 'with us, if 
 you please, twice two make four, but somehow it 
 comes out in a more dashing way.' ' 
 
 " But stay, Sozont Ivanitch," exclaimed Lit- 
 vinoff. " Stay! Surely, we send something to 
 the International Expositions, and Europe pro- 
 cures some supplies from us." 
 
 ' Yes, raw material, raw products. And ob- 
 serve, my dear sir: our raw material is chiefly 
 good, only because it depends upon other, and 
 very evil circumstances: our bristles, for exam- 
 ple, are large and stiff merely because the pigs 
 are poor; our hides are firm and thick, because 
 the cows are thin; our tallow is fat, because it is 
 boiled half and half with the' beef. . . However, 
 why am I dilating to you about this ? Surely you, 
 who occupy yourself with technology, must know 
 all these things better than I do. People say 
 to me : ' inventiveness ! Russian inventiveness ! ' 
 There are our landed proprietors complaining 
 bitterly, and suffering loss, because no satisfac- 
 tory grain-dryer exists, which would relieve them 
 of the necessity of placing their sheaves of grain 
 in the kiln, as in the days of Rurik: those kilns 
 are frightfully detrimental, no better than lin- 
 den-bast slippers, or bast mats, and they are con- 
 stantly burning down. The landed proprietors 
 complain, and still the grain-dryer does not make 
 
 152
 
 SMOKE 
 
 its appearance. And why not? Because the for- 
 eigner does not need it; he grinds his grain raw, 
 consequently does not bother about inventing 
 one, and we ... are not capable of doing it! 
 Xot capable of doing it and that 's the end of 
 the matter! You might try it ! I vow, that from 
 this day forth, as soon as a born genius or a 
 self -taught man drops down on me, I shall say 
 to him' halt, my respected sir! and where 's that 
 grain-dryer ? Hand it over ! ' But how can they ? 
 We are capable of picking up an old patched 
 shoe, which long ago fell from the foot of Saint- 
 Simon or Fourier, and placing it respectfully on 
 our head, treating it like a holy thing ; or of scrib- 
 bling an article about the historical and contem- 
 porary significance of the proletariat in the prin- 
 cipal cities of France that also we can do; but I 
 once tried to suggest to a writer and political 
 economist, after the fashion of your Mr. Voroshi- 
 loff, to name to me twenty towns in that same 
 France, and do you know the result ? The result 
 was, that the political economist, in despair, 
 finally mentioned, among the towns of France, 
 Mont Fermeil, probably recalling Paul de 
 Kock's romance. And the following experience 
 occurred to me. One day I was making my way, 
 with gun and dog, through the forest. . ." 
 
 " And are you a sportsman? " inquired Litvi- 
 noff. 
 
 " I shoot a little. I was making my way tp 
 
 153
 
 a marsh in search of quail; other sportsmen had 
 told me about that marsh. I looked, and in the 
 midst of a field, in front of a cottage, sat a mer- 
 chant's clerk, fresh and lusty as a husked nut, 
 sat there grinning, I did not know at what. And 
 I asked him: ' Where is the marsh,' said I, ' and 
 are there quail in it? ' * Certainly, certainly,' he 
 drawled slowly, and with an expression as though 
 I had presented him with a ruble ; ' with great 
 pleasure, sir : it 's a first-class marsh ; but as for all 
 sorts of wild birds my God! there 's a capital 
 abundance of them also.' I went off, but I not 
 only did not find a single wild bird, the marsh 
 itself had dried up long before. Now tell me, 
 if you please, why does the Russian man lie? 
 Why does the political economist lie, and about 
 wild-fowl, to boot? " 
 
 LitvinofF made no reply, and only sighed sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 " And start a conversation with that political 
 economist," resumed Potugin: " about the most 
 difficult problems of social science, only, in gen- 
 eral terms, without facts . . phrrrr ! and the bird 
 will soar off like an eagle ! But I once succeeded 
 in catching a bird of that sort : I employed a good 
 visible bait, as you will see. We were talking 
 with one of our present-day ' new youngsters,' 
 about divers questions, as they express it. Well, 
 sir, he flew into a great rage, as is usual; among 
 other things, he rejected marriage, with truly 
 
 154
 
 SMOKE 
 
 childish obstinacy. I suggested to him argu- 
 ments of one sort and another ... it was like 
 knocking my head against a wall! I saw that it 
 was impossible to approach him from that quar- 
 ter. And suddenly a happy thought flashed 
 across me! ' Permit me to inform you,' I began, 
 one must always address the ' minnows ' with 
 respect ' that I am amazed at you, my dear sir; 
 you are interested in the natural sciences and 
 hitherto you have not noted the fact that all car- 
 nivorous and rapacious animals, birds and beasts, 
 all those who are obliged to sally forth in search 
 of prey, and toil over procuring live food for 
 themselves and their offspring . . . and, of course, 
 you reckon man in the list of such animals?' 'Of 
 course I do,' replied the ' minnow ' : e man, after 
 all, is nothing but a carnivorous animal.' ' And 
 a rapacious one,' I added. * And a rapacious 
 one,' he assented. ' That is very well said,' I as- 
 sented. ' So, then, I am amazed that you have 
 not observed that all such animals stick to mo- 
 nogamy? ' The new youngster shuddered. 
 ' How so? ' ' Why, just so. Recall the lion, the 
 wolf, the fox, the vulture, the hawk; and be so 
 good as to consider how could they act otherwise? 
 The two of you can hardly feed the children, as it 
 is.' My 'minnow' fell to thinking. 'Well,' says 
 he, ' in that case, the beast is no model for man.' 
 ' Then I called him an idealist, and how angry 
 he became! He almost wept. I was obliged to 
 
 155
 
 SMOKE 
 
 soothe him, and to promise him that I would not 
 betraj r him to his comrades. Is it a small thing 
 to deserve the name of idealist ? And therein lies 
 the joke, that the present young generation has 
 made a mistake in its calculations. It has imag- 
 ined that the day of old-fashioned, dark, under- 
 ground toil is past, that it was all well enough for 
 their aged fathers to dig like tortoises ; but for us 
 such a role is humiliating, if you please, we will 
 act in the open air, we will act. . . The dear in- 
 nocents ! and even your children will not act ; and 
 would n't you like to go back to the cave, to the 
 cave again, in the footprints of the old men? " 
 
 A brief silence ensued. 
 
 " I, my dear sir, am of this opinion," Potugin 
 began again:" that we are indebted to civilisa- 
 tion not alone for knowledge* art, and law, but for 
 the fact that even the very sentiment of beauty 
 and poetry is developed and enters into force un- 
 der the influence of that same civilisation; and 
 that so-called national, ingenuous, unconscious, 
 creative genius is stuff and nonsense. Even in 
 Homer traces are already discernible of a refined 
 and wealthy civilisation; even love is ennobled 
 thereby. The Slavyanophils would gladly hang 
 me for such a heresy if they were not such ten- 
 der-hearted creatures; but, nevertheless, I insist 
 upon my view and however much they may re- 
 gale me with Madame Kokhanovsky and * The 
 Hive at Rest,' I will not inhale that triple extralt 
 
 156
 
 SMOKE 
 
 de mougik russe; for I do not belong to the high- 
 est society, which finds it indispensably necessary, 
 from time to time, to assure itself that it has not 
 become completely Frenchified, and for whose 
 special use that literature en cuir de Russie is 
 composed. Try the experiment of reading to the 
 common people the genuine populace the 
 most incisive, the most ' national ' passages from 
 the ' Hive ' ; they will think you are communi- 
 cating some new plot about usury or hard drink- 
 ing. I repeat it, without civilisation there is no 
 poetry. Would you like to obtain an illustration 
 of the unpoetic ideal of the uncivilised Russian 
 man? Open our epic songs, our legends. I am 
 not talking now about the fact that love always 
 is represented in them as the result of witchcraft, 
 of sorcery is produced by drinking ' a love-phil- 
 tre,' and is even called soldering, chilblain; nei- 
 ther am I referring to the fact that our so-called 
 epic literature alone, among all the others, Euro- 
 pean and Asiatic, alone, observe, has not pre- 
 sentedunless you count Vanka-Tanka as such 
 a single typical pair of loving human beings; 
 that the paladin of Holy Russia always begins his 
 acquaintance with his fated affinity by beating her 
 ' mercilessly ' on her white body whence * also 
 the feminine sex lives swollen up ' ; of all that I 
 will not speak; but permit me to direct your at- 
 tention to that elegant specimen of youth, the 
 jeune premier, as he was depicted by the imagi- 
 
 157
 
 nation of the primitive, uncivilised Slavonian. 
 Here, be pleased to note, comes the leading lover; 
 he has made himself a nice little cloak of marten- 
 fur, stitched along all the seams: a belt of the 
 seven silks is girt about him just under the arm- 
 pits, and the collar of the cloak is made higher 
 than his head; from the front his ruddy face, 
 from the back his white neck is not visible, his cap 
 rests on one ear, and on his feet are morocco 
 boots, with awl-like toes, his heels are pointed, 
 around the little tips an egg might roll; under 
 the high heels a sparrow might fly and flutter. 
 And the dashing young fellow walks with a short, 
 mincing step, that famous * flaunting ' gait, 
 wherewith our Alcibiades, Tchurilo Plenkovitch, 
 produced such a wonderful, almost medicinal ef- 
 fect on the old women and>the young maidens, 
 that same gait wherewith, down to the present 
 day, our waiters, limbered in every joint, that 
 cream, that flower of Russian foppishness, that 
 nee plus ultra of Russian taste, trip about in so in- 
 imitable a manner. I am not saying this in jest: 
 dawdling dash is our artistic ideal. Well, is the 
 picture true? Does it contain many materials for 
 painting, for sculpture? And the beauty who 
 fascinates the young men, and whose ' blood in 
 
 her face is as though in that of a hare? * 
 
 But, apparently, you are not listening to me? " 
 
 LitvinofF started. He really had not heard 
 what Potugin had been saying to him: he had 
 
 158
 
 SMOKE 
 
 been thinking, importunately thinking about 
 Irfna, about his last meeting with her. . . 
 
 "Excuse me, Sozont Ivanitch," he began: 
 " but I want to put my former question to you 
 once more, about . . . about Madame Ratmi- 
 roff." 
 
 Potugin folded his newspaper, and thrust it 
 into his pocket. 
 
 " Again you wish to know how I became ac- 
 quainted with her? " 
 
 " No, not that ; I should like to hear your opin- 
 ion . . . about the part which she has played in 
 Petersburg. As a matter of fact, what was that 
 part?" 
 
 " But I really do not know what to say to you, 
 Grigory Mikhailovitch. I became pretty inti- 
 mately acquainted with Madame Ratmiroff 
 
 but quite accidentally, and not for long. I have 
 never taken a peep into her society, and what 
 took place there has remained unknown to me. 
 People have chattered somewhat in my presence, 
 but you know scandal reigns among us not in 
 democratic circles only. Moreover, I never had 
 the curiosity to inquire. But I perceive," he 
 added, after a brief pause: "that she interests 
 you." 
 
 ' Yes ; we have had a couple of pretty frank 
 conversations. Still, I ask myself: Is she sin- 
 cere? " 
 
 Potugin dropped his eyes." When she gets 
 159
 
 SMOKE 
 
 carried away she is sincere, like all passionate 
 women. Pride also sometimes keeps her from 
 lying." 
 
 " But is she proud? I should suppose, rather 
 that she is capricious." 
 
 " As proud as the devil; but that 's nothing." 
 
 " It seems to me that she sometimes exagger- 
 ates. . ." 
 
 ; ' That 's nothing, either; she is sincere, all the 
 same. Well, and speaking in general, from 
 whom would you care to have the truth? The 
 very best of those young noble ladies are corrupt 
 to the very marrow of their bones." 
 
 " But, Sozont Ivanitch, call to mind, did not 
 you call yourself her friend? Was it not you 
 who, almost by force, took me to her? " 
 
 "What of that? She asked me to get you: 
 why not? But I really am her friend. She is 
 not devoid of good qualities: she is very kind 
 that is to say, generous, that is to say, she gives 
 to others that which she does not need herself. 
 However, you certainly must know her quite as 
 well as I do." 
 
 " I used to know Irina Pavlovna ten years 
 ago; but since then . . ." 
 
 " Ekh, Grigory Mikhailovitch, what are you 
 saying? Do people's characters change? As they 
 are in the cradle, so they are in the grave. Or, 
 perhaps . . . ." Here Potiigin bent still lower; 
 
 160
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " perhaps you are afraid of falling into her 
 hands? That really . . . well, you cannot avoid 
 falling into some one's hands." 
 
 Litvinoff laughed in a constrained way. 
 "You think so?" 
 
 ' You cannot avoid it. Man is weak, woman 
 is strong, chance is all-powerful; it is difficult to 
 reconcile one's self to a colourless existence, it is 
 impossible wholly to forget one's self . . . but 
 yonder is beauty and sympathy yonder is 
 warmth and light, why resist? And you run to 
 it like a child to its nurse. Well, and afterward, 
 of course, there is cold, and darkness, and empti- 
 ness . . as is proper. And the end of it is, that 
 you will grow unused to everything, you will 
 cease to understand anything. At first you will 
 not understand how it is possible to love; and 
 afterward you will not understand how it is pos- 
 sible to live." 
 
 Litvinoff looked at Potugin, and it seemed to 
 him that never before had he met a more solitary, 
 a more deserted .... a more unhappy man. 
 On this occasion he was not timid, he did not 
 stand on ceremony ; all despondent and pale, with 
 his head on his breast, and his hands on his knees, 
 he sat motionless, and merely smiled a melan- 
 choly smile. Litvinoff felt sorry for this poor, 
 queer, splenetic fellow. 
 
 " Irina Pavlovna mentioned to me, among 
 161
 
 SMOKE 
 
 other things," he began in a low tone," one of 
 her intimate friends, whom she called, I think, 
 Madame Byelsky or Dolsky. . ." 
 
 Potugin cast his sorrowful eyes on Litvi- 
 noff. 
 
 " Ah! " he exclaimed in a dull tone. . . " She 
 mentioned her . . . well, and what of it? How- 
 ever," he added, with an unnatural sort of yawn : 
 " I must go home to dinner. I ask your 
 pardon." 
 
 He sprang up from the bench and moved rap- 
 idly away before Litvinoff could manage to utter 
 a word. . . His pity gave way to vexation vexa- 
 tion at himself, of course. Every sort of indiscre- 
 tion was unnatural to him; he had wished to ex- 
 press his sympathy for Potugin and the result had 
 been something in the nature of an awkward hint. 
 With secret dissatisfaction at heart, he returned 
 to his hotel. 
 
 " Corrupt to the very marrow of their bones," 
 he thought some time later ..." but proud as 
 the devil! She, that woman, who is almost on 
 her knees before me, proud? proud, not ca- 
 pricious? " 
 
 Litvinoff tried to expel Irina's image from his 
 head, but did not succeed. For that very reason, 
 also, he did not recall his affianced bride; he felt 
 to-day that image would not surrender its place. 
 He resolved to await the solution of all this 
 " strange affair," without troubling himself fur- 
 
 162
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ther; the solution could not be long delayed, and 
 Litvinoff had not the slightest doubt that it 
 would be of the most abundant and natural sort. 
 So he thought, but, in the meantime, it was not 
 Irina's image alone which would not leave him 
 all her words recurred in turn to his memory. 
 
 A waiter brought him a note: it was from 
 Irina. 
 
 " If you have nothing to do this evening, come : I shall 
 not be alone ; I have guests and you will have a closer 
 view of us, of our society. I am very anxious that you 
 should see them : I have a premonition that they will dis- 
 play themselves in all their glory. And you ought to 
 know what sort of air I breathe. Come ; I shall be glad 
 to see you, and you are not bored [Irina meant to say : 
 you will not be bored]. Prove to me that our explana- 
 tion of to-day has rendered impossible any misunderstand- 
 ing between us. Faithfully yours, I." 
 
 Litvinoff put on his dress suit and a white tie, 
 and went to Irina's. " All this is of no impor- 
 tance," he kept repeating to himself, in thought, 
 on the way," but take a look at them . . . why 
 should not I take a look? It is curious." A few 
 days previously these same people had aroused 
 in him a different feeling: they had aroused his 
 indignation. 
 
 He walked with hurried steps, with his hat 
 pulled far down over his eyes, with a constrained 
 smile on his lips, and Bambaeff, who was sitting 
 
 163
 
 SMOKE 
 
 in front of Weber's Cafe, and pointed him out 
 from a distance to Voroshiloff and Pishtchalkin, 
 exclaimed enthusiastically: "Do you see that 
 man? He 's stone! He 's a rock!! He 's 
 granite ! ! ! " 
 
 164
 
 XV 
 
 LITVINOFF found quite a number of guests at 
 Irina's. In a corner, at the card-table, sat three 
 of the generals of the picnic: the fat, the irrita- 
 ble, and the condescending ones. They were 
 playing whist with a dummy, and there are no 
 words in human language wherewith to express 
 the pompousness with which they dealt, took 
 
 tricks, played clubs, played diamonds 
 
 just like statesmen! Leaving to plebeians, aux 
 bourgeois, the comments and adages customary 
 during a game, the generals uttered only the most 
 indispensable words; but the fat general per- 
 mitted himself between two deals to say, with 
 energetic distinctness : ce Ce satane as de pique! " 
 Among the visitors Litvinoff recognised the 
 ladies who had taken part in the picnic ; but there 
 were others also whom he had not hitherto seen. 
 One was so old that it seemed as though she must 
 collapse immediately: she was wriggling her 
 dreadful bare, dark-grey shoulders about, and 
 covering her mouth with her fan; she was cast- 
 ing sidelong glances at Ratmiroff , with her al- 
 ready quite dead eyes; he was paying court to 
 her; she was greatly respected in high society 
 
 165
 
 SMOKE 
 
 as the last Maid of Honour of the Empress 
 Katherine II. By the window, dressed as a shep- 
 herdess, sat Countess Sh., " the Tzaritza of the 
 Wasps," surrounded by young men; among 
 them, distinguished by his arrogant bearing, his 
 perfectly flat skull, and his soullessly-brutal ex- 
 pression of countenance, worthy of a Khan of 
 Bokhara or of a Roman Heliogabalus, was Fini- 
 kofF, famous for his wealth and his good looks; 
 another lady, also a Countess, and known by the 
 diminutive name of IAse, was chatting with a 
 long-haired blond, pale " spirit-medium "; beside 
 them stood a gentleman, also pale and long- 
 haired, sneering significantly : this gentleman was 
 also a believer in spiritualism, but busied himself, 
 in addition, with prophecy, and, on the founda- 
 tion of the Apocalypse and the Talmud, foretold 
 all sorts of remarkable events; not one of these 
 events took place, but he was not discomfited, 
 and went on prophesying. That same heaven- 
 born genius who had aroused such ire in Potugin 
 had placed himself at the piano; he was striking 
 chords in an absent-minded way, d'une main dis- 
 traite, and carelessly gazing about him. Irma 
 was sitting on the divan between Prince Koko 
 and Madame X., formerly renowned as the 
 beauty and wit of All-Russia, and who had long 
 ago turned into a worthless wrinkled mushroom, 
 whence exhaled an odour of fast-tide oil and 
 putrid poison. On catching sight of Litvfnoff , 
 
 1GO
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Irina blushed, rose, and when he approached her, 
 pressed his hand warmly. She wore a black crape 
 gown, with barely visible gold embellishments; 
 her shoulders gleamed with a dull whiteness, and 
 her face, which was also pale beneath the momen- 
 tary wave of crimson which had swept over it, 
 breathed forth the triumph of beauty, and not of 
 beauty only: a secret, almost mocking joy, 
 sparkled in her half -closed eyes, quivered around 
 her lips and nostrils. . . 
 
 Ratmiroff approached Litvinoff, and after ex- 
 changing with him the customary greetings, 
 which were not, however, accompanied by his ha- 
 bitual playfulness, presented him to two or three 
 ladies: to the aged ruin, to the Empress of the 
 Wasps, to Countess Liza. . . They received him 
 with a tolerable amount of graciousness. Litvi- 
 nofF did not belong to their set ... but he was 
 not ill-looking, even very far from it, and the 
 expressive features of his youthful face aroused 
 their attention. Only he did not understand how 
 to rivet this attention on himself; he had grown 
 disused to society, and felt somewhat embar- 
 rassed, and then, too, the fat general had fixed his 
 eyes on him. "Aha! the civilian! the free- 
 thinker!" that immovable, heavy glance seemed to 
 say: " so he has crawled into our society; please let 
 me kiss your hand," says he. Irina came to Lit- 
 vinofFs rescue. She managed matters so cleverly 
 that he found himself in a corner, near the door, 
 
 167
 
 SMOKE 
 
 a little behind her. When she addressed him she 
 was obliged every time to turn toward him, and 
 every time he admired the beautiful curve of her 
 gleaming neck he inhaled the delicate perfume 
 of her hair. The expression of profound and 
 silent gratitude never left her face: he could not 
 but admit that it was precisely gratitude which 
 was expressed by those smiles, those glances, and 
 he also began to seethe all over with the same 
 sentiment, and he felt ashamed, yet found it 
 sweet and painful . . . and at the same time 
 she seemed constantly desirous of saying: "Well? 
 What do you think of this? " This wordless 
 question became audible to Litvinoff with espe- 
 cial clearness every time any of those present 
 uttered or perpetrated a stupidity, and this hap- 
 pened more than once in the course of the even- 
 ing. Once, even, she could not contain herself, 
 and laughed aloud. 
 
 Countess Liza, a very superstitious lady and 
 inclined to everything extraordinary, after hav- 
 ing talked her fill to the light-haired medium 
 about Hume, table-tipping, self -playing accor- 
 deons, and the like, wound up by asking him 
 whether any animals existed upon whom mag- 
 netism produced an effect. 
 
 " One such animal exists, at any rate," re- 
 marked Prince Koko from a distance. " You 
 know Milanovsky, I believe? They put him to 
 sleep in my presence, and he even snored, ai', ai'l " 
 
 168
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' You are very malicious, mon prince; I 
 am talking about real animals, je parle des 
 betes/' 
 
 "Mais moi aussi, madame, je parle d'une 
 bete. . ." 
 
 ' There are real animals also," interposed the 
 spiritualist; " for example crabs; they are 
 very nervous, and easily fall into a cataleptic 
 state." 
 
 The Countess was amazed." What? Crabs! 
 Is it possible? Akh, that is extremely curious! 
 How I should like to see it! Monsieur Luzhin," 
 she added, addressing a young man with a stony 
 face, such as new dolls have, and stony collar (he 
 was famed for having wet that same face and 
 collar with dashes of Niagara and the Nubian 
 Nile, but he remembered nothing about all his 
 travels, and loved only Russian puns ....), 
 " Monsieur Luzhin, be so good as to get us a 
 crab." 
 
 Monsieur Luzhin grinned. " A live one or 
 only a lively one? " he inquired. 
 
 The Countess did not understand him. "Mais 
 oui, a crab," she repeated, " une ecrevisse." 
 
 " What what 's the meaning of this? a 
 crab? a crab?" interposed Countess Sh. sternly. 
 The absence of Monsieur Verdier irritated her: 
 she could not understand why Irina had not in- 
 vited that most charming of Frenchmen. The 
 ruin, who had long ago ceased to understand any- 
 
 169
 
 SMOKE 
 
 thing, in addition to which, deafness had seized 
 upon her, only waggled her head. 
 
 f( Oui, oui, vous allez voir. Monsieur Liizhin, 
 please . . . ." 
 
 The young traveller bowed, left the room, and 
 speedily returned. A waiter followed him, and 
 grinning to the full extent of his mouth, bore a 
 platter whereon was visible a large black crab. 
 
 " Void, madame," exclaimed Liizhin; " now 
 you can set about the operation on the crab. 1 Ha, 
 ha, ha! " (Russians are always the first to laugh 
 at their own witticisms.) " He, he, he! " echoed 
 Prince Koko, in the quality of a patriot and 
 patron of all national products. 
 
 (We beg the reader not to feel astonished and 
 not to get angry: who can answer for himself, 
 that, when seated in the parterre of the Alexan- 
 drinsky Theatre, and invaded by its atmosphere, 
 he will not perpetrate even a worse pun?) 
 
 " Merd, merd" said the Countess. "A lions, 
 allons, Monsieur Fox, montrez-nous pa" 
 
 The waiter placed the platter on a small round 
 table. A slight movement ensued among the 
 guests ; several necks were outstretched ; only the 
 generals at the card-table preserved the serene 
 solemnity of their pose. The medium rumpled 
 up his hair, frowned, and approaching the table, 
 began to make passes with his hands in the air: 
 the crab bristled up, drew back, and elevated its 
 
 J The word also means cancer in Russian. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 170
 
 SMOKE 
 
 claws. The medium repeated and quickened his 
 motions : the crab bristled as before. 
 
 " Mais que doit-die done faire? " inquired the 
 Countess. 
 
 " Elle doa rester immobile et se dresser sur sa 
 quiou" replied Mr. Fox, with a strong American 
 accent, convulsively agitating his ringers over the 
 platter; but the magnetism did not act, the crab 
 continued to move about. The medium an- 
 nounced that he was not at his best, and retreated 
 from the table with a dissatisfied aspect. The 
 Countess undertook to console him, asserting that 
 similar failures sometimes happened, even with 
 Monsieur Hume. . . Prince Koko confirmed 
 her words. The expert in the Apocalypse and 
 the Talmud stole up to the table on the sly, and 
 poking his fingers swiftly, but violently, in the 
 direction of the crab, also tried his luck, but with- 
 out success: no symptoms of catalepsy mani- 
 fested themselves. Then the waiter was sum- 
 moned, and ordered to remove the crab, which 
 command he obeyed, grinning to the full capacity 
 of his mouth, as before ; he could be heard to snort 
 outside the door. ... In the kitchen, later on, 
 there was a great deal of laughter uber diese Rus- 
 sen. The born genius had continued to strike 
 chords during the whole time of the experiment 
 with the crab, keeping to minor tones, because, 
 you know, no one could tell what would prove 
 effectual in that case, then the born genius 
 
 171
 
 SMOKE 
 
 played his inevitable waltz, and, of course, re- 
 ceived the most flattering approval. Carried 
 away by the spirit of emulation, Count X., our 
 incomparable dilettante (see Chapter I), "re- 
 cited " a chansonette of his own invention, stolen 
 entire from Offenbach. Its playful refrain on 
 the words " Quel ceuf? quel bceuf? " made the 
 heads of almost all the ladies roll to right and to 
 left ; one even moaned gently, and the irresistible, 
 inevitable " Charmant! charmant! " flitted across 
 every one's mouth. Irina exchanged a glance 
 with Litvmoff, and again that mysterious, mock- 
 ing expression hovered about her lips. . . . But 
 it came more powerfully into action a little later, 
 it even assumed a malevolent cast, when 
 Prince Koko, that representative and defender 
 of the interests of the nobility, took it into his 
 head to set forth his views to that same medium, 
 and, as a matter of course, immediately made use 
 of his famous phrase about the shock to property 
 in Russia, in which connection, incidentally, de- 
 mocracy caught it. The American blood in the 
 medium made itself felt ; he began to argue. The 
 Prince, as was fitting, immediately began to 
 shout, at the top of his voice, in place of proofs 
 incessantly repeating : " C'est absurde! cela na 
 pas le sens commun! " The wealthy Finikoff 
 began to utter impertinences, without stopping 
 to think to whom they applied ; the Talmudist set 
 up a squeak; even Countess Sh. took to rattling. 
 
 172
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ... In short, there arose almost identically the 
 same detestable uproar as at Gubaryoff's; only, 
 in this case, there were no beer and tobacco-smoke, 
 and all present were better dressed. Ratmiroff 
 endeavoured to restore silence (the generals had 
 expressed dissatisfaction, an exclamation from 
 Boris had made itself audible: " Encore cette sa- 
 tanee politique! 1 '}, but the effort proved fruit- 
 less ; and a dignitary who was present, one of the 
 softly-penetrating sort, on undertaking to pre- 
 sent le resume de la question en pen de mots, suf- 
 fered defeat; it is true that he so mumbled and 
 repeated himself, so evidently did not know how 
 either to hear or answer objections, and so in- 
 dubitably did not himself know precisely in what 
 la question consisted, that no other issue could 
 have been expected; and Irina, too, urged on the 
 wranglers on the sly, and hounded them one upon 
 the other, constantly glancing at LitvinofF, and 
 nodding her head slightly at him. . . And he sat 
 there as though bewitched, heard nothing, and 
 only waited for those magnificent eyes to flash 
 upon him once again, for that pale, tender, mis- 
 chievous, charming face to flit once more across 
 his vision. . . The end of it was that the ladies 
 rebelled, and demanded that the dispute should 
 cease. . Ratmfroff invited the dilettante to re- 
 peat his chansonette, and the born genius played 
 his waltz again. . . 
 
 Litvfnoff remained until after midnight, and 
 173
 
 SMOKE 
 
 took his departure later than all the others. The 
 conversation had touched upon many topics dur- 
 ing the course of the evening, sedulously avoiding 
 everything which was in the slightest degree in- 
 teresting; the generals, after they had finished 
 their majestic game, had majestically joined in 
 it: the influence of these statesmen immediately 
 made itself felt. A conversation was in progress 
 about the notorieties of the Parisian demi-monde,, 
 with whose names and talents every one appeared 
 to be intimately acquainted, about Sardou's last 
 play, about About's romance, about Patti in 
 " Traviata." Some one suggested that they play 
 at " secretary," au secretaire: but this was not a 
 success. The replies were insipid, and not devoid 
 of grammatical errors; the fat general told how 
 he, on one occasion, in answer to the question, 
 Quest ce que I'amour? had replied: Une colique 
 remontee au cceur, and immediately began to 
 laugh with his wooden laugh; the ruin, with a 
 sweeping gesture, tapped him with her fan on 
 the arm; a bit of whitewash fell off of her fore- 
 head at this vigorous gesture. The dried mush- 
 room undertook to recall the Slavonic princi- 
 palities and the indispensability of an Orthodox 
 propaganda beyond the Danube, but finding no 
 echo, began to hiss, and withdrew into the back- 
 ground. In fact, they talked more about Hume 
 than about anything else; even the "Empress 
 of the Wasps " narrated how hands had crept
 
 SMOKE 
 
 over her, and how she had seen them, and 
 had put her own ring on one of them. In truth, 
 Irina triumphed: even if Litvinoff had paid 
 more attention to what was being said around 
 him, still he would not have carried away a 
 single sincere word, a single intelligent thought, 
 or a single new fact out of all that incoherent 
 and lifeless chatter. No enthusiasm w r as audi- 
 ble even in the cries and exclamations; even in 
 the reproaches no passion was to be felt: only 
 from time to time, from beneath the mask of 
 pseudo-civic indignation, pseudo-scornful indif- 
 ference, did the fear of possible losses give forth 
 a shriek, and a few names, which posterity will 
 not forget, were uttered with gnashings of teeth. 
 . . . And not one drop of living current beneath 
 all this rubbish and litter! What ancient stuff, 
 what useless nonsense, what insipid trifles ab- 
 sorbed all those brains, those souls, and absorbed 
 them not on that one evening only, not only 
 in society, but at home, at all hours, every day, 
 in all the breadth and depth of their beings! 
 And what ignorance, in conclusion! What 
 lack of comprehension of everything upon 
 which human life is founded, by which it is 
 adorned! 
 
 As she took leave of Litvinoff, Irina slightly 
 pressed his hand, and significantly whispered: 
 " Well, what do you think of it? Are you satis- 
 fied? Have you sufficiently admired? Is it 
 
 175
 
 SMOKE 
 
 nice? " He made her no reply, but merely bowed 
 silently and low. 
 
 When she was left alone with her husband 
 Irina was on the point of retiring to her bedroom. 
 . . He stopped her. 
 
 " Je vous ai beaucoup admiree ce soir, ma- 
 dame" he said, as he lighted a cigarette, and 
 leaned his elbows on the mantelpiece: " vous 
 vous etes parfaitement moquee de nous tous" 
 
 " Pas plus cette fois-ci que Us autres"she 
 replied indifferently. 
 
 " How do you wish me to understand that? " 
 inquired Ratmiroff. 
 
 " As you please." 
 
 " H'm. C'est clair" Ratmiroff cautiously, 
 in a feline way, knocked the ashes from his cig- 
 arette with the long nail of , his little finger. 
 ' Yes, by the way! That new acquaintance of 
 yours what 's his name? . . . Mr. Litvinoff- 
 must enjoy the reputation of being a very clever 
 man." 
 
 At Litvinoff's name Irina turned swiftly 
 round. 
 
 " What do you mean? " 
 
 The general grinned. 
 
 " He never utters a word ; . . . evidently, he 's 
 afraid of compromising himself." 
 
 Irina laughed also, only not at all in the same 
 way as her husband. 
 
 " It is better to hold one's tongue than to talk 
 .... as some people do." 
 
 176
 
 SMOKE 
 
 "Attrape! "said Ratmiroff, with feigned hu- 
 mility." Jesting aside, he has a very interesting 
 face. Such a ... concentrated expression . . 
 and, altogether, a bearing. . . . Yes." The 
 general adjusted his necktie, and throwing back 
 his head, scrutinised his own moustache." I as- 
 sume that he is a republican, after the fashion 
 of that other friend of yours, Mr. Potugin ; he 's 
 another of the clever men who are taciturn." 
 
 Irina's brows slowly elevated themselves above 
 the widely -opened, brilliant eyes, and her lips be- 
 came compressed, almost contorted. 
 
 '* What is your object in saying this, Valerian 
 Vladimiritch ? " she remarked, as though sym- 
 pathetically. " You are only wasting your 
 powder on the empty air. . . We are not in Rus- 
 sia, and no one is listening to us." 
 
 Ratmiroff writhed. 
 
 ' That is not my opinion only, Irina Pav- 
 lovna," he began, with a voice that, somehow, 
 seemed suddenly to have become guttural: 
 " others also think that that gentleman looks like 
 a carbonaro. . ." 
 
 "Really? And who are those others?" 
 
 " Why, Boris, for example. . ." 
 
 " What? And that fellow must needs express 
 his opinion? " 
 
 Irina shrugged her shoulders, as though shud- 
 dering from cold, and softly passed the tips of 
 her fingers over them. 
 
 " That fellow . . . yes, that fellow . . that 
 
 177
 
 fellow. Permit me to inform you, Irina Pav- 
 lovna, you appear to be losing your temper; and 
 you know yourself that the person who loses his 
 temper . . . ." 
 
 " I am losing my temper? For what reason? " 
 
 " I don't know; perhaps the remark displeases 
 you which I permitted myself to make con- 
 cerning . . . ." 
 
 Ratmiroff began to stammer. 
 
 " Concerning? "repeated Irina inquiringly. 
 " Akh, pray omit irony and speak more 
 quickly. I am tired, I am sleepy." She took a 
 candle from the table." Concerning? ..." 
 
 ' Well, concerning that same Mr. Litvinoff. 
 As there is no longer any doubt that you take a 
 very great interest in him . . ." 
 
 Irina raised the hand in which she held the 
 candlestick; the flame came on a level with her 
 husband's face, and, after looking him straight 
 in the eye, with attention and almost with curi- 
 osity, she suddenly burst out laughing. 
 
 " What 's the matter with you? "asked Rat- 
 miroff, with a scowl. 
 
 Irina continued to laugh. 
 
 " Come, what is it? " he repeated, and 
 stamped his foot. 
 
 He felt insulted, exasperated, yet, at the same 
 time, the beauty of this woman, who stood there 
 before him so lightly and so boldly, involuntarily 
 surprised him ... it tormented him. He saw 
 
 178
 
 SMOKE 
 
 everything all her charms, even the rosy gleam 
 of the elegant nails on the delicate fingers, which 
 firmly clasped the dark bronze of the heavy 
 candlestick even that gleam did not escape him 
 . . . and the insult ate still more deeply into his 
 heart. But Irina went on laughing. 
 
 'What? You? You are jealous?" she said, 
 at last, and turning her back on her husband, she 
 left the room. "He is jealous! "was audible 
 outside the door, and again her laughter rang 
 out. 
 
 Ratmiroff gazed gloomily after his wife, 
 even then he could not fail to observe the en- 
 chanting grace of her figure, of her movements, 
 and crushing his cigarette with a heavy blow 
 against the marble slab of the chimney-piece, he 
 flung it far from him. His cheeks suddenly 
 paled, a convulsive quiver flitted across his chin, 
 and his eyes wandered dully and fiercely over 
 the floor, as though in search of something. . . . 
 Every trace of elegance had vanished from his 
 face. That must have been the sort of expression 
 it had assumed when he flogged the white Rus- 
 sian peasants. 
 
 But Litvinoff came to himself in his own room, 
 and seating himself on a chair by the table, he 
 clutched his head in both hands, and, for a long 
 time, remained motionless.. He rose, at last, 
 opened a drawer, and taking out a portfolio, 
 drew from an inner pocket of it Tatyana's photo- 
 
 179
 
 SMOKE 
 
 graph. Her face, distorted and, as usual, made 
 to look older by the photograph, gazed sadly at 
 him. Litvinoff's betrothed was a young girl of 
 Great Russian descent, golden-haired, rather 
 plump, and with somewhat heavy features, but 
 with a wonderful expression of goodness and 
 gentleness in the light -brown eyes, and a tender 
 white brow, upon which the sunshine seemed al- 
 ways to linger. For a long time Litvinoff did 
 not take his eyes from the picture : then he softly 
 pushed it from him, and again clasped his head 
 with both hands. " All is over! " he whispered 
 at last. "Irina! Irina!" 
 
 It was only now, only at this moment, that he 
 comprehended that he was irrevocably, madly in 
 love with her, had fallen in love with her on the 
 very day of his first meeting with her at the Old 
 Chateau, that he never had ceased to love her. 
 And yet how astonished he would have been, how 
 incredulous; how he would have laughed if any 
 one had told him that a few hours earlier. 
 
 "But Tanya, Tanya, my God! Tanya! 4 
 Tanya! " he kept repeating, with compunction; 
 but Irina's image kept rising up before him in her 
 black gown that looked like mourning, with the 
 radiant tranquillity of conquest on her marble- 
 white face. 
 
 180
 
 XVI 
 
 LITVINOFF did not sleep all night long, and did 
 not undress. He felt very heavy at heart. As 
 an honourable and upright man, he understood 
 the importance of obligations, the sacredness of 
 duty, and would have regarded it as a disgrace 
 to deal disingenuously with himself, with his 
 weakness, with his conduct. At first a torpor de- 
 scended upon him: for a long time he could not 
 free himself from the weight of a persistent, semi- 
 conscious, obscure sensation; then terror took 
 possession of him at the thought that the future, 
 his future so nearly won, was again enveloped in 
 gloom, that his house his house which had but 
 just been erected was reeling to its fall. . . He 
 began pitilessly to upbraid himself, but imme- 
 diately put a stop to his own outbursts. ' What 
 dastardliness is this? "he thought." This is no 
 time for reproaches; I must act; Tanya is my 
 affianced bride, she has trusted my love, my hon- 
 our, we are united forever, and we cannot, we 
 must not part." He set before himself, in vivid 
 colours, all Tatyana's qualities, he mentally sorted 
 them over and enumerated them; he tried to 
 arouse in himself emotion and tenderness. 
 
 181
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' There is but one thing left to do," he thought 
 again: "to flee, flee instantly, without waiting 
 for her arrival, to flee to meet her, even if I shall 
 suff er, even if I shall torture myself with Tanya, 
 which is improbable, but, in any case, it is use- 
 less to argue about that, to take that into consid- 
 eration; I must do my duty, even if I die after- 
 ward!" But thou hast no right to deceive her," 
 another voice whispered to him, " thou hast not 
 the right to conceal from her the change which 
 has taken place in thy feelings; perchance, on 
 learning that thou hast fallen in love with an- 
 other, she will not wish to become thy wife? " 
 " Nonsense! Nonsense! " he retorted:" All that 
 is sophistry, shameful guile, false conscientious- 
 ness; I have no right not to keep my plighted 
 word, that 's how the case stands. Well, very 
 good. . . Then I must go away from here with- 
 out seeing her. . ." 
 
 But at this point Litvinoff's heart contracted, 
 a chill overcame him, a physical chill: a momen- 
 tary shiver ran through his body, his teeth chat- 
 tered. He stretched and yawned as though in a 
 fever. Without insisting further on his last 
 thought, stifling that thought, turning away from 
 it, he began to feel perplexed and astonished that 
 he could again have . . . again have fallen in 
 love with that depraved, worldly creature, 
 with all her repulsive, hostile surroundings. He 
 tried to ask himself: "But hast thou fallen thor- 
 
 182
 
 SMOKE 
 
 oughly, actually in love? " and could only wave 
 his hand in despair. He still continued to feel 
 surprised and perplexed, and lo! there before 
 him, as though from a soft, fragrant mist, started 
 forth the bewitching countenance, the starry eye- 
 lashes were raised and silently, irresistibly, the 
 enchanting eyes penetrated his heart, and the 
 voice rang out sweetly, and the gleaming shoul- 
 dersthe shoulders of a young empress ex- 
 haled the freshness and the fervour of tender- 
 ness. . . . 
 
 TOWABD morning a decision matured, at last, in 
 Litvinoff's soul. He decided to set out, on that 
 very day, to meet Tatyana, and in a final inter- 
 view with Irina to tell her, if it could not be 
 avoided, the whole truth and part from her 
 forever. 
 
 He arranged and packed his things, waited un- 
 til twelve o'clock, and went to her. But at the 
 sight of her half-veiled windows, Litvinoff's 
 heart seemed to sink within him ... he lacked 
 the courage to cross the threshold of the hotel. 
 He walked several times up and down Lichten- 
 thaler Avenue. " My respects to you, Mr. Litvi- 
 no ff ! "suddenly rang out a mocking voice from 
 the heights of a swiftly-rolling dog-cart. Litvf- 
 noff raised his eyes, and beheld General Ratmf- 
 roff seated beside Prince M., a well-known sports- 
 man and lover of English equipages and horses. 
 
 183
 
 SMOKE 
 
 The Prince was driving, but the general bent to 
 one side and displayed his teeth, lifting his hat 
 high above his head. Litvinoff bowed to him, 
 and instantly, as though in obedience to a secret 
 command, set out at a run for Irina. 
 
 She was at home. He ordered the servants to 
 announce him: he was immediately received. 
 When he entered she was standing in the middle 
 of the room. She wore a loose morning gown, 
 with wide, flowing sleeves ; her face, pale as on the 
 preceding day, but not fresh as it had then been, 
 expressed weariness ; the languid smile with which 
 she greeted her guest still more clearly defined 
 that expression. She offered him her hand, and 
 gazed at him affectionately but abstractedly. 
 
 ' Thank you for coming," she began, in a 
 mournful voice, and sank into^an arm-chair. " I 
 do not feel quite well to-day ; I passed a bad night. 
 Well, what have you to say about last evening? 
 Was not I right?" 
 
 Litvinoff seated himself. 
 
 " I have come to you, Irina Pavlovna," he 
 began . . . 
 
 She instantly straightened herself up and 
 turned round; her eyes fairly bored into Lit- 
 vinoff. 
 
 'What is the matter with you?" she ex- 
 claimed. " You are as pale as a corpse you 
 are ill. What is the matter with you? " 
 
 Litvinoff became confused. 
 184.
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " With me, Irina Pavlovna? " 
 ' You have received bad news ? A catastrophe 
 has happened, tell me, tell me. . ." 
 
 Litvinoff, in his turn, stared at Irina. 
 
 " I have received no bad news," he said, not 
 without an effort:" but a catastrophe has really 
 happened, a great catastrophe . . . and it has 
 brought me to you." 
 
 "A catastrophe? What is it? " 
 
 " Such a one that . . . ." 
 
 Litvinoff tried to go on ... and could not. 
 But he clasped his hands so hard that the fingers 
 cracked. Irina bent forward, and seemed turned 
 to stone. 
 
 " Akh! I love you!" burst at last in a dull 
 groan from Litvinoff's breast, and he turned 
 away, as though desirous of hiding his face. 
 
 " What, Grigory Mikhailovitch, you . . . ." 
 Irina also was unable to finish her phrase, and 
 leaning back in her chair, she raised both hands 
 to her face. " You . . . love me? " 
 
 ' Yes . . . yes . . . yes," he repeated with 
 exasperation, turning his face more and more 
 aside. 
 
 All became silent in the room : a butterfly which 
 had flown in, agitated its wings and struggled be- 
 tween the curtain and the window. 
 
 LitvinofF was the first to speak. 
 
 "This, Irina Pavlovna," he began: "this 
 is the catastrophe which has . . . stunned me, 
 
 185
 
 SMOKE 
 
 which I ought to have foreseen and avoided, if I 
 had not as in former days, in the Moscow time, 
 fallen immediately into the whirlpool. Evidently, 
 it has pleased fate to take me again unawares, 
 and experience again, through you, those tor- 
 ments which, it would have seemed, ought never 
 more to have been repeated. . . But I have re- 
 sisted . . have tried to resist . . in vain; yes, 
 plainly, what is fated to be cannot be avoided. 
 But I am telling you all this for the purpose of 
 putting an end, as soon as possible to this . . . 
 this tragi-comedy," he added with a fresh access 
 of exasperation and shame. 
 
 Again Litvinoff fell silent; the butterfly con- 
 tinued to struggle and flutter. Irina did not re- 
 move her hands from her face. 
 
 " And you are not deceiving yourself? " her 
 whisper became audible from beneath those white, 
 seemingly bloodless hands. 
 
 " I am not deceiving myself," replied Litvi- 
 noff in a hollow voice. " I love you as I have 
 never loved, or loved any one but you. I am not 
 going to reproach you : that would be too foolish ; 
 I will not repeat to you that perhaps nothing of 
 this sort would have happened had you behaved 
 differently toward me. . . . Of course, I alone 
 am to blame, my self-confidence has been my un- 
 doing; but I am rightly chastised, and you could 
 not possibly have expected this. Of course, you 
 did not take into consideration that it would have 
 
 186
 
 SMOKE 
 
 been far less dangerous for me if you had not felt 
 your fault so vividly . . . your imaginary fault 
 toward me, and had not wished to atone for it 
 . . . but what is done cannot be undone, of course. 
 . . I only wanted to explain to you my position : 
 it is sufficiently painful as it is. . . At all events, 
 there will be no misunderstanding, as you say, 
 but the frankness of my confession will, I hope, 
 mitigate that feeling of insult which you cannot 
 fail to feel." 
 
 Litvinoff spoke without raising his eyes; and 
 if he had glanced at Irfna, still he could not have 
 seen what was going on in her face, because, as 
 before, she did not remove her hands. Neverthe- 
 less, what was taking place on her face would, in 
 all probability, have amazed him: it expressed 
 both fear and joy, and a certain blissful exhaus- 
 tion and agitation; the eyes barely glimmered 
 beneath the drooping lids, and the long-drawn, 
 broken breathing chilled the lips which were 
 parted as though in thirst. . . . 
 
 Litvinoff maintained silence, waited for a re- 
 ply, a sound. . . Nothing! 
 
 " But one thing is left for me to do," he be- 
 gan again: " to go away; I am come to bid you 
 farewell." 
 
 Irina slowly dropped her hands upon her 
 knees. 
 
 " But I remember, Grigory Mikhailovitch,"- 
 she began: " that . . that person, of whom you 
 
 187
 
 SMOKE 
 
 spoke to me, was to come hither. You are ex- 
 pecting her? " 
 
 ' Yes; but I shall write to her . . . she will 
 stop somewhere on the way . . in Heidelberg, 
 for instance." 
 
 " Ah ! In Heidelberg. . . Yes. . It is pleasant 
 there. . . But all this must disturb your plans. 
 Are you sure, Grigory Mikhailovitch, that you 
 are not exaggerating, et que ce nest pas une 
 fausse alar me? " 
 
 Irma spoke quietly, almost coldly, and with 
 little pauses, and glances aside, in the direction of 
 the window. Litvinoff did not answer her last 
 question. 
 
 " But why have you alluded to the insult? " 
 she went on." I am not insulted . . . oh, no! 
 And if either of us is to blame, then, in any case, 
 it is not you; not you alone. . . Remember our 
 last conversations, and you will be convinced that 
 it is not you." 
 
 " I have never had any doubt of your magna- 
 nimity," ejaculated Litvinoff through his teeth: 
 
 "but I should like to know: do you approve 
 of my intention? " 
 
 "To go away?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Irma continued to gaze to one side. 
 
 " At the first moment your intention seemed 
 to me to be premature . . . but now I have 
 thought over what you said . . . and if you 
 
 188
 
 really are not making a mistake, then I suppose 
 that you ought to go. It will be better so ... 
 better for both of us." 
 
 Irina's voice had grown more and more 
 quiet, and her very speech became slower and 
 slower. 
 
 " General Ratmiroff, really, might notice it," 
 Litvinoff began. . . . 
 
 Irma's eyes dropped again, and something 
 strange flickered around her lips . . flickered 
 and vanished. 
 
 " No, you do not understand me," she inter- 
 rupted him." I was not thinking of my hus- 
 band. Why should I? There would be nothing 
 for him to notice. But, I repeat it: separation 
 is indispensable for both of us." 
 
 Litvinoff took up his hat, which had fallen to 
 the floor. 
 
 " Everything is over," he thought:" I must 
 go." " And so it only remains for me to take 
 leave of you, Irina Pavlovna," he said aloud, 
 and suddenly dread fell upon him, exactly as 
 though he were on the point of pronouncing his 
 own sentence." I can only hope that you will 
 not bear me any ill-will .... and that if, some- 
 times, we ... ." 
 
 Again Irina interrupted him: 
 
 " Wait, Grigory Mikhaflovitch, do not bid me 
 farewell yet. That would be over-hasty." 
 
 Something quivered within Litvinoff, but a 
 189
 
 SMOKE 
 
 burning bitterness surged up on the instant, and 
 with redoubled force, in his heart. 
 
 "But I cannot remain!" he exclaimed. 
 "To what end? Why prolong this anguish?" 
 
 " Do not bid me farewell yet," repeated 
 Irina. . " I must see you once more. . . Again 
 the same sort of dumb parting as in Moscow, 
 no, I will not have that. You may go now, but 
 you must promise me, give me your word of hon- 
 our, that you will not take your departure with- 
 out having seen me once more." 
 
 "You wish that?" 
 
 " I demand it. If you go away without having 
 taken leave of me, I will never, never forgive 
 you. Do you hear: never!" "It is strange!" 
 she added, as though speaking to herself: " I 
 cannot possibly realise that I am in Baden. . . I 
 keep feeling that I am in Moscow. . . Go. ." 
 
 Litvinoff rose. 
 
 " Irina Pavlovna," he said, " give me your 
 hand." 
 
 Irina shook her head. 
 
 " I have told you that I will not bid you fare- 
 well. . ." 
 
 " I am not asking it for a farewell. . ." 
 
 Irina was on the point of giving him her hand, 
 but glanced at Litvinoff for the first time since 
 his confession, and drew it back. 
 
 " No, no," she whispered, " I will not give 
 you my hand. No . . . no. Go." 
 
 190
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Litvmoff bowed and left the room. He could 
 not know why Irina had refused him a last 
 
 friendly pressure He could not know 
 
 that she was afraid. 
 
 He left the room, and Irina again sank down 
 in the arm-chair, and again covered her face. 
 
 191
 
 XVII 
 
 LITVINOFF did not return home: he went off to 
 the mountains, and making his way into the den- 
 sity of the forest, threw himself on the earth, face 
 downward, and lay there for about an hour. He 
 did not suffer, he did not weep; he lay in a sort 
 of painful, agonising swoon. Never before had 
 he experienced anything of the sort : there was an 
 intolerably aching, gnawing sensation of empti- 
 ness, of emptiness in himself, around him every- 
 where. . . He did not think either of Irina or of 
 Tatyana. He felt one thing : the blow had fallen, 
 and life had been cut in twain like a rope, and he 
 was entirely drawn forward and seized upon by 
 something unknown, yet cold. Sometimes it 
 seemed to him that a whirlwind had descended 
 upon him, and he felt its swift gyrations and the 
 confused beatings of its dark pinions. . . But his 
 decision did not waver. . Remain in Baden . . . 
 such a thing was not even to be mentioned. Men- 
 tally, he had already taken his departure: he was 
 already seated in the rattling and smoking rail- 
 way-carriage, and fleeing, fleeing into the dumb, 
 dead distance. He rose up, at last, and leaning 
 his head against a tree, remained motionless ; only 
 
 192
 
 SMOKE 
 
 with one hand, without himself being conscious 
 of it, he had grasped the highest frond of a fern, 
 and was swaying it to and fro with a regular beat. 
 The sound of approaching footsteps aroused him 
 from his torpor ; two charcoal-burners, with large 
 sacks on their shoulders, were making their way 
 along the steep path. " It is time! " whispered 
 LitvinofF, and followed the charcoal-burners 
 down the path to the town, turned into the rail- 
 way building, and despatched a telegram to Tat- 
 yana's aunt, Kapitolina Markovna. In this tele- 
 gram he informed her of his immediate departure, 
 and appointed a meeting with her in Schrader's 
 hotel, in Heidelberg. " If an end is to be made, 
 it had better be made at once," he thought; 
 " there is no use in deferring it until to-morrow." 
 Then he entered the gaming-room, with dull curi- 
 osity stared two or three players in the face, 
 descried from afar Bindasoff's hideous nape, 
 Pishtchalkin's irreproachable face, and, after 
 standing for a little while under the colonnade, he 
 betook himself, without haste, to Irina. It was 
 not at the instigation of a sudden, involuntary 
 impulse that he went to her; when he had made 
 up his mind to depart, he had also made it up to 
 keep the word he had pledged, and to see her once 
 again. He entered the hotel without being per- 
 ceived by the door-porter, ascended the staircase 
 without meeting any one, and, without knocking 
 at the door, mechanically pushed it open, and en- 
 
 193
 
 SMOKE 
 
 tered the room. In the room, in the same arm- 
 chair, in the same gown, in the same attitude as 
 three hours before, sat Irina. . . It was evident 
 that she had not stirred from the spot, had not 
 moved during all that time. She slowly raised 
 her head, and on perceiving Litvmoff, shuddered 
 all over, and grasped the arms of the chair. 
 ' You have frightened me," she whispered. 
 
 Litvinoff regarded her with speechless amaze- 
 ment. The expression of her face, of her sunken 
 eyes, impressed him. 
 
 Irina smiled in a forced way and adjusted her 
 hair, which had fallen out of curl. 
 
 " It does not matter. . . I, really, I do not 
 know. . I think I have been asleep here." 
 
 " Excuse me, Irina Pavlovna," began Litvi- 
 noff, " I entered without being announced. . I 
 wished to comply with what you were pleased to 
 demand of me. And, as I am going away to- 
 day . . ." 
 
 " To-day? But I thought you told me that you 
 wished first to write a letter. . ." 
 
 " I have sent a telegram." 
 
 " Ah! You found it necessary to make haste. 
 And when do you leave? At what o'clock, I 
 mean? " 
 
 " At seven o'clock in the evening." 
 
 " Ah! At seven o'clock! And you have come 
 to say farewell? " 
 
 " Yes, Irina Pavlovna, to say farewell." 
 194
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Irina remained silent for a while. 
 
 " I must thank you, Grigory Mikhaflitch ; 
 you probably did not find it easy to come 
 hither." 
 
 " No, Irina Pavlovna, it was very far from 
 easy." 
 
 "Life is not easy, altogether, Grigory Mi- 
 khaflitch; what do you think? " 
 
 ' That depends on the person, Irina Pav- 
 lovna." 
 
 Again Irina remained silent for a space, as 
 though in meditation. 
 
 ' You have shown your friendship for me by 
 coming," she said, at last. " I thank you. 
 And, altogether, I entirely approve of your de- 
 cision to make an end of it all as speedily as pos- 
 sible, . . . because every delay . . . because . . . 
 because I, that very same I whom you accused of 
 coquetry, whom you called a comedian, I be- 
 lieve that was what you called me? . ." 
 
 Irina rose hastily, and seating herself in an- 
 other arm-chair, bent over and pressed her face 
 and hands against the edge of the table. . . 
 
 " Because I love you . . ." she whispered, 
 through her tightly-clasped fingers. 
 
 LitvinofF staggered back, as though some one 
 had struck him in the breast. Irina sadly turned 
 her head away from him, as though desirous, in 
 her turn, of hiding her face from him, and laid 
 it on the table. 
 
 195
 
 " Yes, I love you. ... I love you . . . and 
 you know it." 
 
 "I? I know it? " Litvinoff uttered, at last. 
 " I? " 
 
 ' Well, and now you see," pursued Irina, 
 " that you really must go, that there must be no 
 delay, that we, that I can suffer no delay. It is 
 dangerous, it is terrible. . . Good-bye ! " she 
 added, rising impetuously from her chair. 
 
 She took several steps in the direction of the 
 door to her boudoir, and thrusting her hand be- 
 hind her back, she hastily moved it through the 
 air, as though desirous of encountering and press- 
 ing Litvinoff's hand; but he stood, as though 
 rooted to the spot, at a distance. . . . Once more 
 she said, " Farewell, forget," and without glanc- 
 ing behind her, fled from the room. 
 
 Litvinoff was left alone, and still could not re- 
 cover himself. He came to his senses at last, 
 swiftly approached the door of the boudoir, utter- 
 ing Irina's name once, twice, thrice. . . He had 
 already laid his hand on the handle of the door. . . 
 The ringing voice of Ratmiroff made itself audi- 
 ble from the porch of the hotel. 
 
 Litvinoff pulled his hat down over his eyes and 
 went out to the staircase. The elegant general 
 was standing in front of the porter's lodge, and 
 explaining to him, in imperfect German, that he 
 wished to hire a carriage for the whole of the 
 following day. On catching sight of Litvinoff, 
 
 196
 
 SMOKE 
 
 he again raised his hat abnormally high, and 
 again expressed his " respect ": he was evidently 
 scoffing at him, but Litvinoff cared nothing for 
 that. He barely returned RatmirofF's salutation, 
 and on reaching his own quarters, he paused in 
 front of his trunk, already packed and closed. 
 His head was in a whirl, and his heart was quiver- 
 ing like a chord. What was to be done now? And 
 could he have foreseen this? 
 
 Yes, he had foreseen it, incredible as it might 
 seem. It had stunned him like a clap of thunder, 
 but he had foreseen it, although he had not dared 
 to admit it. But he had known nothing with cer- 
 tainty. Everything had got jumbled up within 
 him; he had lost the thread of his own thoughts. 
 He recalled Moscow, he recalled how " it " had 
 descended upon him then like a sudden hurricane. 
 He felt suffocated: ecstasy but a desolate, 
 hopeless ecstasy choked and rent his breast. 
 Xot for anything in the world would he have con- 
 sented that the words uttered by Irina should not 
 really have been uttered by her. . . But what 
 then? All the same, those words could not alter 
 the resolution he had already taken. As before, 
 it did not waver, but held firmly like an anchor 
 which has been cast. Litvinoff had lost the 
 thread of his thoughts . . . yes; but his will re- 
 mained with him still, and he gave himself orders 
 as he would have given them to a strange man, 
 his subordinate. He rang the bell for a waiter, 
 
 197
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ordered his bill to be brought, engaged a seat in 
 the evening omnibus: he deliberately cut off all 
 his roads. " Even if I die there afterward," he 
 kept repeating, as he had done during the pre- 
 ceding sleepless night; this phrase was particu- 
 larly to his taste. " Even if I die there after- 
 ward," he repeated, as he slowly paced to and 
 fro in his chamber, only closing his eyes and ceas- 
 ing to breathe from time to time involuntarily 
 when those words, those words of Irina invaded 
 his soul, and seared it as with fire. " Evidently, 
 one does not love twice," he thought: "another 
 life has entered into yours, you have admitted 
 it you cannot rid yourself of that poison to the 
 end, you cannot break those threads! Just so; 
 but what does that prove? Happiness. . . Is 
 that possible? You love her, let us assume . . . 
 and she . . . she loves you. . ." 
 
 But at this point he was again compelled to 
 take himself in hand. As a wayfarer, in a dark 
 night, who descries ahead of him a tiny light and 
 fears to lose his road, does not remove his eyes 
 from it for an instant, so also Litvinoff unremit- 
 tingly concentrated the full force of his attention 
 upon one point, upon one goal. To present him- 
 self to his affianced bride, and even not actually 
 to his bride (he tried not to think of her) , but in 
 the room of the Heidelberg hotel that is what 
 stood before him steadfastly, as his guiding light. 
 What was to come afterward he did not know, 
 
 198
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and did not wish to know. . . . One thing was 
 indubitable : he would not turn back. " Even if I 
 die there," he repeated for the tenth time, and 
 glanced at his watch. 
 
 A quarter past six ! How long he still had to 
 wait ! Again he strode back and forth. The sun 
 was declining to its setting, the sky was glowing 
 red over the trees, and a crimson twilight fell 
 through the narrow windows into his darkening 
 room. All at once it seemed to Litvinoff as 
 though the door had been opened softly and 
 swiftly behind him, and as swiftly closed again. 
 . . He turned round ; by the door, enveloped in a 
 black mantilla, stood a woman. . . 
 
 "Irina!" he cried, and clasped his hands. . . 
 
 She raised her head, and fell upon his breast. 
 
 Two hours later he was seated on his divan. His 
 trunk stood in a corner, open and empty, and on 
 the table, amid articles scattered there in confu- 
 sion, lay a letter from Tatyana which Litvinoff 
 had just received. She wrote him that she had 
 decided to hasten her departure from Dresden, 
 as her aunt's health was entirely restored, and 
 that if no obstacles intervened they would both 
 arrive in Baden at twelve o'clock on the following 
 day, and hoped that he would meet them at the 
 railway station. Litvinoff had engaged apart- 
 ments for them in the same hotel where he was 
 stopping. 
 
 199
 
 SMOKE 
 
 That same evening he sent a note to Irina, and 
 on the following morning he received an answer 
 from her. " A day sooner or a day later," she 
 wrote, " it was inevitable. I repeat to thee what 
 I said last night : my life is in thy hands, do with 
 me as thou wilt. I do not wish to put any re- 
 straint upon thy freedom, but thou must know 
 that, in case of necessity, I will abandon every- 
 thing, and will follow thee to the ends of the earth. 
 We shall see each other to-morrow, shall we not? 
 Thy Irina." 
 
 The last two words were written in a large, 
 bold, decided chirography. 
 
 200
 
 XVIII 
 
 AMONG the persons who assembled, on the 18th of 
 August, about twelve o'clock, on the platform of 
 the railway station was Litvinoff. Not long be- 
 fore he had met Irina. She was sitting in an open 
 carriage with her husband and another person, a 
 gentleman already elderly. She had seen Litvi- 
 noff, and he had perceived it: something dark 
 had flitted across her eyes, but she immediately 
 concealed herself from him with her parasol. 
 
 A strange change had taken place in him since 
 the preceding day in his whole exterior, in his 
 movements, in the expression of his face; and he 
 himself felt that he was another man. His self- 
 confidence had vanished, his composure had van- 
 ished also, along with his self-respect; nothing 
 was left of his former spiritual state. Recent in- 
 effaceable impressions had shut out everything 
 else. A certain unprecedented sensation, strong, 
 sweet and malign, had made its appearance; a 
 mysterious guest had made his way into the sanc- 
 tuary, and had taken possession of it, and had lain 
 down therein silently, but at full length, as master 
 of the new domicile. Litvinoff no longer felt 
 ashamed, he was afraid and, at the same time, 
 
 201
 
 SMOKE 
 
 a desperate hardihood was kindled within him; 
 this mixture of conflicting feelings is familiar to 
 captives, to the conquered; it is not unknown also 
 to the thief, after he has robbed a church. But 
 Litvinoff had been conquered conquered sud- 
 denly; . . . and what had become of his honour? 
 
 The train was a few minutes late. Litvinoff's 
 languor passed into torturing anguish: he could 
 not stand still in one place, and, deathly pale, he 
 squeezed and forced his way among the people. 
 " My God," he thought, " if I might have just 
 one more day. . ." His first glance at Tanya, 
 Tanya's first glance . . . that was what alarmed 
 him, that was what he must get through with as 
 speedily as possible. . . And afterward? After- 
 wardcome what might! . . . He no longer ar- 
 rived at any decisions, he no longer answered for 
 himself. His phrase of yesterday flashed pain- 
 fully through his head. . . And that is how he is 
 meeting Tanya. . . 
 
 A prolonged whistle resounded at last, a dull 
 roar, which momentarily increased, became audi- 
 ble, and rolling slowly from behind the road- 
 gates, the locomotive made its appearance. The 
 crowd advanced to meet it, and Litvinoff ad- 
 vanced after it, dragging his feet like a con- 
 demned man. Faces, ladies' hats, began to show 
 themselves from the carriages, in one small win- 
 dow a white handkerchief began to gleam. . . 
 Kapitolina Markovna was waving it. . . It was 
 
 202
 
 SMOKE 
 
 over; she had seen Litvinoff, and he had recog- 
 nised her. The train came to a standstill, Litvi- 
 noff rushed to the door and opened it: Tatyana 
 was standing by the side of her aunt, and smiling 
 brightly, offered him her hand. 
 
 He helped them both to alight, uttered a few 
 courteous words, incomplete and obscure, and im- 
 mediately began to bustle about, began to collect 
 their tickets, their travelling-bags, their plaids, 
 ran off to hunt up a porter, called a carriage; 
 other people were bustling about around him, and 
 he rejoiced at their presence, their noise and their 
 shouts. Tatyana stepped a little to one side, and 
 without ceasing to smile, calmly awaited the con- 
 clusion of his hasty preparations. Kapitolina 
 Markovna, on the contrary, could not stand still; 
 she would not believe that she had at last got to 
 Baden. She suddenly cried out: " And the um- 
 brellas? Tanya, where are the umbrellas?" not 
 noticing that she was holding them firmly under 
 her arm; then she began to bid a loud and pro- 
 longed farewell to another lady, whose acquain- 
 tance she had made during the journey from 
 Heidelberg to Baden. The lady was none other 
 than Madame Sukhantchikoff, already known to 
 us. She had betaken herself to Heidelberg to 
 worship Gubaryoff, and had returned with " in- 
 structions." Kapitolina Markovna wore a de- 
 cidedly queer striped mantle, and a round travel- 
 ling-hat, in the shape of a mushroom, from be- 
 
 203
 
 SMOKE 
 
 neath which her closely -clipped white hair stuck 
 out in disarray; short of stature and gaunt, she 
 had got very red with the journey, and was talk- 
 ing in Russian, with a shrill and chanting voice. 
 . . People noticed her immediately. 
 
 At last Litvinoff seated her and Tatyana in a 
 carriage, and placed himself opposite them. The 
 horses started off. Inquiries began, hands were 
 shaken afresh, there were mutual smiles, greet- 
 ings. . . Litvinoff breathed freely: the first mo- 
 ments had passed off successfully. Evidently, 
 nothing about him had struck or disturbed 
 Tanya: she looked at him as clearly and confid- 
 ingly, she blushed as prettily, she laughed as 
 good-naturedly as ever. At last he made up his 
 mind to look at her, not fleetingly and super- 
 ficially, but directly and intently : up to that time 
 his own eyes had not obeyed him. Involuntary 
 emotion clutched his heart: the tranquil expres- 
 sion of that honest, open countenance found echo 
 within him in bitter reproach. " Here thou hast 
 come hither, poor girl, " he thought : ' ' thou , 
 whom I so waited for and longed for, with whom 
 I wished to pass my life until its end thou hast 
 come, and thou hast trusted me . . . but I ... 
 but I ..." Litvinoff dropped his head; but 
 Kapitolina Markovna gave him no opportunity 
 for meditation ; she showered questions upon him. 
 
 ' What is that building with the pillars? 
 Where do they gamble? Who is that coming? 
 
 204
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Tanya, Tanya, look, what crinolines! And who 
 is that yonder? They must be chiefly French 
 people from Paris here? Only I imagine every- 
 thing is frightfully dear. Akh, with what a 
 splendid, clever woman I have made acquain- 
 tance! You know her, Grigory Mikhailovitch; 
 she told me that she had met you at a certain Rus- 
 sian's, also a wonderfully clever person. She 
 promised to call on us. How she does abuse all 
 these aristocrats it 's simply marvellous! What 
 gentleman is that with the white moustache ? The 
 King of Prussia? Tanya, Tanya, look, that is 
 the King of Prussia! No? it isn't the King of 
 Prussia? The Ambassador from Holland? I 
 can't hear, the wheels rumble so. Akh, what mag- 
 nificent trees ! " 
 
 ' Yes, aunty, magnificent," assented Tanya: 
 
 " and how green and cheerful everything is 
 here ! Is n't it, Grigory Mikhailovitch ? " 
 
 " It is cheerful . . ." he answered her, through 
 his teeth. 
 
 The carriage stopped at last in front of the 
 hotel. Litvinoff escorted the two travellers to 
 the rooms reserved for them, promised to look in 
 in the course of an hour, and returned to his own 
 room. The spell, which had subsided for a mo- 
 ment, immediately took possession of him as soon 
 as he entered it. Here in this room Irina had 
 reigned since the preceding day; everything 
 spoke of her, the very air seemed to have pre- 
 205
 
 SMOKE 
 
 served mysterious traces of her visit. . . Again 
 Litvinoff felt that he was her slave. He pulled 
 forth her handkerchief, which he had hidden in 
 his breast, pressed his lips to it, and burning mem- 
 ories, like delicate poison, diffused themselves 
 through his veins. He understood that there was 
 no turning back now, no choice ; the painful emo- 
 tion aroused in him by Tatyana melted like snow 
 in the fire, and repentance died within him . . . 
 died so that even the agitation within him was 
 allayed, and the possibility of dissimulation, 
 which presented itself to his mind, did not revolt 
 him. . . Love, Irina's love that was what had 
 now become his righteousness, his law, his con- 
 science. . . The prudent, sensible Litvinoff did 
 not even reflect how he was to extricate himself 
 from a situation the horror and indecency of 
 which he felt lightly and in an indirect manner, 
 as it were. 
 
 An hour had not elapsed when a waiter pre- 
 sented himself to Litvinoff, sent by the newly- 
 arrived ladies: they requested him to be so good 
 as to come to them in their sitting-room. He fol- 
 lowed their emissary, and found them already 
 dressed, and with their hats on. Both expressed 
 a desire to set off at once to inspect Baden, seeing 
 that the weather was very fine indeed. Kapi- 
 tolina Markovna, in particular, was fairly burn- 
 ing with impatience; she was even somewhat 
 vexed to learn that the hour for the fashionable 
 203
 
 SMOKE 
 
 gathering in front of the Konversationshaus had 
 not yet arrived. Litvinoff gave her his arm, and 
 the official promenade began. Tatyana walked 
 by the side of her aunt, and gazed about her with 
 calm curiosity; Kapitolina Markovna continued 
 her interrogatories. The sight of the roulette, 
 of the stately croupiers, whom she would cer- 
 tainlyhad she met them in any other place, 
 have taken for Cabinet Ministers, of their 
 brisk little shovels, of the golden and silver 
 heaps on the green cloth, of the gambling old 
 women and painted courtesans put Kapitolina 
 Markovna into a state akin to dumb rapture; 
 she totally forgot that she ought to feel indig- 
 nantand only stared, and stared, with all her 
 eyes, quivering, from time to time, with every 
 fresh exclamation. . . The buzzing of the ivory 
 ball in the depths of the roulette penetrated to the 
 very marrow of her bones and only when she 
 found herself in the open air did she gain suffi- 
 cient command over herself to designate the 
 game of chance, with a profound sigh, as an im- 
 moral invention of aristocratism. A fixed, ma- 
 licious smile made its appearance on Litvinoff 's 
 lips; he talked abruptly and indolently, as though 
 he were vexed or bored. . . But now he turned to 
 Tatyana, and was seized with secret discomfiture : 
 she was gazing attentively at him with an ex- 
 pression as though she were asking herself what 
 sort of an impression was being aroused within 
 
 207
 
 SMOKE 
 
 her? He made haste to nod his head at her; she 
 replied to him in the same way, and again looked 
 at him inquiringly, not without a certain effort, 
 as though he stood a great deal further away from 
 her than he did in reality. Litvinoff led his ladies 
 away from the Konversationshaus, and avoiding 
 " the Russian tree," under which his fellow- 
 countrymen were already encamped, took his way 
 to Lichtenthaler Avenue. No sooner had he en- 
 tered the avenue than he descried Irina from 
 afar. 
 
 She was walking toward him with her husband 
 and Potugin. Litvinoff turned pale as a sheet, 
 but did not retard his pace, and when he came 
 on a level with her he made her a silent bow. And 
 she bowed to him, pleasantly but coldly, and scru- 
 tinising Tatyana with a swift glance, she slipped 
 past. . . Ratmiroff raised his hat very high, Po- 
 tugin mumbled something. 
 
 ; ' Who is that lady? " suddenly inquired Ta- 
 tyana. Up to that moment she had hardly opened 
 her lips. 
 
 "That lady?" repeated Litvinoff. " That 
 lady? She is a certain Madame Ratmiroff." 
 
 " A Russian? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did you make her acquaintance here? " 
 
 " No; I have known her this long time." 
 
 " How beautiful she is! " 
 
 " Did you notice her toilette? " put in Kapi- 
 208
 
 SMOKE 
 
 tolina Markovna." Ten families might be fed 
 for a whole year for the money which her laces 
 alone are worth. Was that her husband walking 
 with her? "she inquired of Litvinoff. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He must be frightfully rich." 
 
 " Really, I do not know; I do not think so." 
 
 " And what is his rank? " 
 
 " That of general." 
 
 ' What eyes she has! "remarked Tatyana: 
 " and the expression of them is so strange: both 
 thoughtful and penetrating. . . I have never 
 seen such eyes." 
 
 Litvinoff made no reply ; it seemed to him that 
 he again felt on his face Tatyana's questioning 
 glance, but he was mistaken : she was looking un- 
 der her feet at the sand of the path. 
 
 "Good heavens! Who is that monster?" 
 suddenly exclaimed Kapitolina Markovna, point- 
 ing with her finger at a low char-a-bancs, in 
 which, boldly lolling, lay a ruddy-haired, snub- 
 nosed woman, in an unusually rich costume and 
 lilac stockings. 
 
 " That monster! Goodness, that is the famous 
 Mademoiselle Cora." 
 
 " Who? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle Cora ... a Parisian .... 
 celebrity." 
 
 " What? that pug-dog? Why, she is extremely 
 ugly!" 
 
 209
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Evidently, that is no hindrance." Kapito- 
 lina Markovna simply flung out her hands with 
 amazement. 
 
 ' Well, your Baden! "she ejaculated at last. 
 
 " But may we sit down on this bench? I feel 
 rather fatigued." 
 
 " Of course you may, Kapitolina Markovna. . . 
 That 's what the benches are placed here for." 
 
 ' Well, the Lord only knows! They say that 
 off there, in Paris, benches stand on the boule- 
 vards, also, but it is not proper to sit on them." 
 
 Litvinoff made no reply to Kapitolina Mar- 
 kovna. Only at that very moment did he reflect 
 that a couple of paces distant was the very spot 
 where he had had with Irina the explanation 
 which had settled everything. Then he recol- 
 lected that to-day he had noticed on her cheek a 
 tiny red spot. . . 
 
 Kapitolina Markovna sank down on the bench, 
 Tatyana seated herself beside her, Litvinoff re- 
 mained on the path; between him and Tatyana 
 or did it only seem so to him? something had 
 taken place . . . something unconscious and 
 gradual. 
 
 " Akh, she is queer, she is queer," ejaculated 
 Kapitolina Markovna compassionately, shaking 
 her head. " Now, if you were to sell her toilette, 
 you could feed not ten, but a hundred families. 
 Did you see the diamonds on her red hair under 
 her hat? Diamonds by daylight, hey? " 
 
 210
 
 "Her hair is not red," remarked Litvinoff; 
 
 " she dyes it to a reddish hue; that 's the fashion 
 now." 
 
 Again Kapitolina Markovna threw her hands 
 apart in amazement, and even fell into medita- 
 tion. 
 
 "Well," she said at last, " we have n't 
 gone to such scandalous lengths in Dresden yet. 
 Because, after all, it is further from Paris. 
 You think so too, don't you, Grigory Mikhai- 
 litch? " 
 
 "I? " replied Litvinoff, and said to himself: 
 " What the deuce is she talking about? " " I? 
 Of course ... of course. . ." 
 
 But here hurried footsteps became audible, and 
 Potugin approached the bench. 
 
 " How do you do, Grigory Mikhaflovitch," 
 he said, smiling, and nodding his head. 
 
 Litvinoff immediately caught him by the arm. 
 
 " Good afternoon, good afternoon, Sozont 
 Ivanitch. I think I met you just now, with . . . 
 just now, in the avenue." 
 
 " Yes, it was I." 
 
 Potugin bowed respectfully to the ladies as 
 they sat. 
 
 " Permit me to introduce you, Sozont Ivan- 
 itch. My good friends, and relatives, have only 
 just arrived in Baden. Potugin, Sozont Ivan- 
 itch, a fellow-countryman, also a visitor to 
 Baden." 
 
 211
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Both ladies rose slightly. Potiigin repeated his 
 salutes. 
 
 " It is a regular rout here," began Kapitolina 
 Markovna, in a thin little voice; the kindly old 
 maid was easily abashed, but she tried her best 
 to keep up her dignity:" every one regards it 
 as a pleasant duty to come here." 
 
 " Baden really is a very agreeable place," - 
 replied Potiigin, casting a sidelong glance 
 at Tatyana; "a very agreeable place is 
 Baden." 
 
 * Yes ; only too aristocratic, so far as I can 
 judge. She and I have been living in Dresden 
 this long time ... it is a very interesting town; 
 but it is, most decidedly, a rout here." 
 
 "She has taken a fancy to that word," thought 
 Potugin." Your observation is perfectly just," 
 he said aloud: " On the other hand, nature is 
 wonderful here, and the situation is such as is 
 rarely to be found. Your companion must par- 
 ticularly appreciate it. Do you not, madame? " 
 he added, this time addressing himself directly to 
 Tatyana. 
 
 Tatyana raised her large, clear eyes to Potugin. 
 She seemed rather perplexed as to what was 
 wanted of her, and why Litvinoff had introduced 
 her, on that first day of her arrival, to that strange 
 man, who had, however, a clever and amiable face, 
 and who looked at her in a courteous and friendly 
 manner. 
 
 212
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' Yes," she said, at last," it is very pretty 
 here." 
 
 ' You ought to visit the old chateau," went 
 on Potiigin; "in particular, I recommend you 
 to go to Iburg." 
 
 ' The Saxon Switzerland," began Kapitolina 
 Markovna. 
 
 A blast of notes from trumpets rolled down 
 the avenue: it was the Prussian military band 
 from Rastadt (in 1862 Rastadt was still a fed- 
 erate fortress) beginning its weekly concert in the 
 pavilion. Kapitolina Markovna instantly rose. 
 
 " Music! " she said:" the music at the a la 
 Conversation! ... we must go there. It must 
 be three o'clock now, is it not? Society is begin- 
 ning to assemble now? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Potiigin; " this is the most 
 fashionable hour for society, and the music is very 
 fine." 
 
 " Well, then we must not delay. Tanya, let 
 us go." 
 
 " Will you permit me to accompany you? " 
 inquired Potiigin, to the no small astonishment 
 of Litvmoff : it could not enter his head that Irina 
 had sent Potugin. 
 
 Kapitolina Markovna grinned. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure, monsieur . . . 
 monsieur. . ." 
 
 " Potiigin," prompted he, and offered her his 
 
 arm. 
 
 213
 
 SMOKE 
 
 LitvinofF gave his to Tatyana, and both couples 
 directed their steps toward the Konversations- 
 haus. 
 
 Potugin continued to argue with Kapitolina 
 Markovna. But LitvinofF walked along without 
 uttering a word, and merely laughed a couple of 
 times, without any cause whatever, and lightly 
 pressed Tatyana's arm. There was falsehood in 
 those pressures, to which she did not respond, and 
 Litvinoff was conscious of the falsehood. They 
 did not express mutual confidence in the close 
 union of two souls which had given themselves 
 to each other, as before ; they were now taking the 
 place for the time being of the words which he 
 could not invent. That speechless something, 
 which had begun between the two, grew and 
 strengthened. Again Tatyana gazed attentively, 
 almost intently, at him. 
 
 The same state of affairs continued in front of 
 the Konversationshaus, at the little table, around 
 which all four seated themselves, with this sole 
 difference that Litvmoff's silence appeared more 
 comprehensible under the bustling turmoil of the 
 crowd, and the thunder and crash of the band. 
 Kapitolina Markovna was quite beside herself, 
 as the saying is; Potugin was hardly able to 
 humour her, and satisfy her curiosity. Luckily 
 for him, the gaunt figure of Madame Sukhan- 
 tchikoff and her ever-restless eyes suddenly made 
 their appearance in the throng. Kapitolina Mar- 
 
 214
 
 SMOKE 
 
 kovna instantly recognised her, called her up to 
 the table, made her sit down and a hurricane of 
 words ensued. 
 
 Potugin turned to Tatyana and began to con- 
 verse with her in a soft and quiet voice, with a 
 caressing expression on his slightly inclined coun- 
 tenance; and she, to her own surprise, answered 
 him lightly and without constraint; she found it 
 agreeable to chat with this stranger, whom she 
 did not know, while Litvinoff continued, as be- 
 fore, to sit motionless, with the same fixed and 
 malicious smile on his lips. 
 
 The hour for dinner arrived at last. The band 
 ceased to play, the crowd began to thin out. Kap- 
 itolina Markovna bade a sympathetic farewell to 
 Madame Sukhantchikoff. She had conceived an 
 immense respect for her, although she told her 
 niece afterward that she was an extremely spite- 
 ful person; but, on the other hand, she knew 
 everything about everybody! And sewing- 
 machines ought, really, to be introduced as soon 
 as the wedding was celebrated. Potugin bowed 
 himself off: Litvinoff took his ladies home. As 
 they entered the hotel, a note was handed to him : 
 he stepped aside, and hastily tore off the envel- 
 ope. On a small scrap of vellum paper stood the 
 following words, scribbled in pencil: " Come to 
 me this evening, for a moment, at seven o'clock, 
 I beg of you. Irina." Litvinoff thrust the paper 
 into his pocket, and as he turned round he smiled 
 
 215
 
 SMOKE 
 
 again .... at whom? why? Tatyana was stand- 
 ing with her back to him. 
 
 The dinner took place at the general table. 
 Litvmoff sat between Kapitolina Markovna and 
 Tatyana, and having grown rather strangely 
 vivacious, chatted, narrated anecdotes, poured 
 out wine for himself and for the ladies. He 
 bore himself with so much freedom of manner 
 that a French infantry officer from Strassburg, 
 with a goatee and moustache a la Napoleon III, 
 who sat opposite, found it possible to join in the 
 conversation, and even wound up with a toast 
 a la sante des belles moscovites! After dinner 
 Litvinoif escorted the two ladies to their room, 
 and after standing for a short time by the win- 
 dow, with frowning brows, he suddenly an- 
 nounced that he must absent 'himself for a little 
 while on business, but would return, without fail, 
 later in the evening. Tatyana said nothing, 
 turned pale, and dropped her eyes. Kapitolina 
 Markovna had a habit of taking a nap after 
 dinner; Tatyana knew that Litvinoff was aware 
 of this habit of her aunt's : she had expected that 
 he would take advantage of it, that he would re- 
 main, as he had not yet been alone with her, had 
 not talked frankly with her, since their arrival. 
 And here he was going off ! How was she to un- 
 derstand that? And, altogether, his whole con- 
 duct in the course of the day .... 
 
 Litvinoif made haste to depart, without await- 
 216
 
 ing any objections; Kapitolina Markovna lay 
 down on the divan and, after sighing and draw- 
 ing a couple of deep breaths, fell into an untrou- 
 bled sleep; but Tatyana went away to a corner 
 and seated herself in an arm-chair, with her arms 
 tightly folded on her breast. 
 
 217
 
 XIX 
 
 LITVINOFF briskly ascended the stairs of the 
 Hotel de 1'Europe. . . A young girl of thirteen, 
 with a cunning little Kalmyk face, who, evi- 
 dently, was lying in wait for him, stopped him, 
 saying to him in Russian, "This way, please; 
 Irina Pavlovna will be here directly." He 
 glanced at her with surprise. She smiled, re- 
 peated, " If you please, if you please," and led 
 him into a small room which was opposite Irina's 
 bedroom, and filled with travelling coffers and 
 trunks, then immediately vanished, closing the 
 door softly behind her. Litvinoff had not suc- 
 ceeded in taking a survey when the same door 
 swiftly opened and Irina made her appearance, 
 in a pink ball-gown, with pearls in her hair and on 
 her neck. She fairly flung herself at him, seized 
 him by both hands, and remained speechless for 
 several moments ; her eyes beamed and her bosom 
 heaved, as though she had been running up a hill. 
 " I could not receive .... you there," she 
 began, in a hurried whisper;" we are going im- 
 mediately to a formal dinner, but I felt that it 
 was imperatively necessary that I should see you. 
 . . . That was your betrothed, of course, with 
 whom I met you to-day? " 
 
 218
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' Yes, that was my betrothed," said Litvf- 
 noff, laying special emphasis on the word " was." 
 
 " Exactly, and so I wished to see you for a 
 moment, in order to tell you that you must con- 
 sider yourself entirely free, that all that which 
 took place yesterday ought not, in the least, to 
 alter your decision. . . ." 
 
 "Irina!" exclaimed Litvinoff: " why dost 
 thou say this? " 
 
 He spoke the words in a loud voice. . . . Bound- 
 less passion rang out in them. For a moment 
 Irina involuntarily closed her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, my dear one! "she went on, in a still 
 softer whisper, but with uncontrollable impulsive- 
 ness: "thou dost not know how I love thee, but 
 yesterday I only paid my debt, I expiated a 
 fault of the past. . . Akh! I could not give thee 
 my youth, as I would have liked to do, but I im- 
 posed no obligations upon thee, I did not release 
 thee from any promise, my darling! Do as thou 
 wilt: thou art free as air; thou art in no wise 
 bound; understand that! Understand it!" 
 
 " But I cannot live without thee, Irina," Lit- 
 vinoff interrupted her, now in a whisper. " I am 
 
 thine forever and forever, since yesterday 
 
 Only at thy feet can I breathe. ..." 
 
 He tremblingly pressed himself against her 
 arms. Irina gazed at his bowed head. 
 
 "Well, then, thou must know," she said, 
 " that I am ready for anything, that I will regret 
 
 219
 
 SMOKE 
 
 nobody and nothing. As thou dost decide, so 
 
 shall it be. I also am thine forever 
 
 thine." 
 
 Some one knocked cautiously at the door. 
 Irina bent over, whispered once more, " Thine. 
 . . . . Farewell!" Litvinoff felt her breath on 
 his hair, and the touch of her lips. When he 
 straightened himself up she was no longer in the 
 room, only her gown was to be heard rustling in 
 the corridor, and Ratmiroff's voice was audible 
 in the distance, " Eh bien? Vous ne venez 
 pas? " 
 
 Litvinoff sat down on a tall trunk and covered 
 his face. A feminine odour, delicate and fresh, 
 was wafted over him. Irina had held his hands 
 in her hands. ' This is too much .... too 
 much," he said to himself. 'The young girl en- 
 tered the room, and smiling again in response to 
 his troubled glance, she said: 
 
 " Please go, sir, while " 
 
 He rose and left the hotel. An immediate re- 
 turn home was not to be thought of: he must re- 
 cover his senses. His heart was beating slowly 
 and unevenly; the earth seemed to be moving 
 faintly under his feet. Litvinoff again directed 
 his steps to Lichtenthal Avenue. He compre- 
 hended that the decisive moment had arrived, 
 that it had become impossible to delay any longer, 
 to dissimulate, to turn aside, that an explanation 
 with Tatyana was inevitable ; he pictured to him- 
 
 220
 
 SMOKE 
 
 self how she was sitting there without moving 
 and waiting for him ... he foresaw what he 
 would say to her; but how was he to set about it, 
 how was he to begin? He had renounced all his 
 regular, well-arranged, orderly future: he knew 
 that he meant to fling himself headlong into the 
 whirlpool, into which it was not proper to glance ; 
 . . . but this did not disturb him. That affair 
 was ended, and how was he to present himself 
 before his judge? And even if his judge were to 
 meet him, as it were an angel with a flaming 
 sword : it would be easier for his guilty heart. . . . 
 but otherwise, he himself would be obliged to 
 drive the dagger home. . . . Horrible ! But turn 
 back, renounce that other, take advantage of the 
 liberty which was promised him, which was recog- 
 nised as his right . . . No! It would be better to 
 die! No, he would none of that shameful lib- 
 erty; . . . but he would abase himself in the 
 dust, and in order that those eyes might incline 
 with love .... 
 
 "Grigory Mikhaflitch! " said a mournful 
 voice, and a hand was laid heavily on LitvinofF. 
 
 He glanced round, not without alarm, and be- 
 held Potugin. 
 
 " Excuse me, Grigory Mikhaflitch," began 
 the latter, with his customary grimace; " per- 
 haps I startled you, but, catching a glimpse of 
 you from afar, I thought . . . However, if you 
 do not feel like talking to me ... ." 
 
 221
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " On the contrary, I am very glad," muttered 
 Litvinoff through his teeth. 
 
 Potiigin walked along by his side. 
 
 " It is a beautiful evening," he began:" so 
 warm! Have you been walking long? " 
 
 " No, not Jong-" 
 
 " But why do I ask? I saw you come out of the 
 Hotel de 1'Europe." 
 
 " So you have been following me? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Have you anything to say to me? " 
 ' Yes, " repeated Potugin in a barely audible 
 voice. 
 
 Litvinoff halted and gazed at his unbidden 
 companion. His face was pale, his eyes were 
 roving; ancient, long-past grief seemed to start 
 forth upon his distorted features. 
 
 ' What, precisely, is it that you wish to say to 
 me?" said Litvinoff slowly, and again moved 
 onward. 
 
 " Permit me ... I will tell you at once. If 
 it is all the same to you, let us sit down on this 
 bench here. It will be more convenient." 
 
 " But it is something private," said Litvinoff, 
 as he sat down beside him. ' You do not seem 
 like yourself, Sozont Ivanitch." 
 
 ' Yes, I 'm all right ; and there is nothing pri- 
 vate about it. In fact, I wished to inform you . . . 
 of the impression which your betrothed has pro- 
 duced on me . . . for she is your betrothed bride,
 
 SMOKE 
 
 I believe? . . . Well, in a word, that young girl 
 to whom you introduced me to-day: I must say 
 that never, in the whole course of my life, have 
 I met so sympathetic a person. She has a heart 
 of gold, a truly angelic soul." 
 
 Potugin uttered all these words with the same 
 bitter and afflicted aspect, so that even Litvinoff 
 could not fail to observe the contradiction between 
 the expression of his face and his remarks. 
 
 ' You have judged Tatyana Petrovna with en- 
 tire justice," began Litvinoff; " although I 
 am bound to feel astonished, in the first place, 
 that you are acquainted with my relations to her, 
 and, in the second place, that you have so speedily 
 divined her. She really has an angelic soul; but 
 allow me to inquire if that is what you wished to 
 talk to me about? " 
 
 " She cannot be divined at once," responded 
 Potugin, as though avoiding the last question: 
 " one must look into her eyes. She deserves every 
 possible happiness on earth, and enviable is the 
 lot of that man whose fate it shall be to procure 
 her that happiness! We must wish that he will 
 prove worthy of such a fate." 
 
 Litvinoff frowned slightly. 
 
 " Excuse me, Sozont Ivanitch," he said:" I 
 must confess that I find your conversation de- 
 cidedly original. ... I should like to know : does 
 the hint which your words contain refer to 
 me?" 
 
 223
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Potugin did not immediately reply to Litvi- 
 noff ; evidently, he was struggling with himself. 
 
 " Grigory Mikhailitch," he began at last, 
 " either I am entirely mistaken in you, or you 
 are in a condition to hear the truth, from whom- 
 soever it may come, and under whatsoever un- 
 sightly cover it may present itself. I just told 
 you that I had seen whence you came." 
 
 ' Well, yes from the Hotel de 1'Europe. 
 And what of that? " 
 
 " Of course I know whom you saw there! " 
 
 " What? " 
 
 ' You saw Madame Ratmiroff." 
 ' Well, yes; I was with her. What more? " 
 ' What more? . . . You are the affianced hus- 
 band of Tatyana Petrovna ; you have had a meet- 
 ing with Madame Ratmiroff, whom you love 
 .... and who loves you." 
 
 Litvinoff instantly rose from the bench; the 
 blood flew to his head. 
 
 ' What 's that? "he said at last, in a wrath- 
 ful, choking voice: "is this an insipid jest, or 
 spying? Be so good as to explain yourself." 
 
 Potugin cast a dejected glance at him. 
 
 " Akh! Do not take offence at my words, Gri- 
 gory Mikhailitch; you cannot insult me. It 
 was not for that that I began this conversation 
 with you, and I am in no mood for jesting now." 
 
 " Possibly, possibly. I am ready to believe in 
 the purity of your intentions; but, nevertheless, 
 
 224
 
 SMOKE 
 
 I shall permit myself to ask you, by what right 
 do you meddle with my private affairs, with the 
 heart-life of a stranger, and on what grounds do 
 you set forth your .... fiction, with so much 
 self-confidence, for the truth? " 
 
 "My fiction! If I had invented that you 
 M r ould not have got angry! and as for my right, 
 I have never yet heard of a man putting to him- 
 self the question: whether he had the right to 
 stretch forth a hand to a drowning person." 
 
 " I thank you humbly for your solicitude," re- 
 torted Litvinoff angrily, " only I do not stand 
 in the slightest need of it, and all these phrases 
 about perdition prepared by fashionable ladies 
 for inexperienced youths, about the immorality 
 of the highest society and so forth, I regard as 
 merely phrases, and even, in a certain sense, I 
 despise them; and therefore, I must request you 
 not to inconvenience your saving right hand, and 
 allow me to drown in all quietness." 
 
 Again Potugin raised his eyes to LitvmoiF. 
 He was breathing heavily, his lips were twitching. 
 
 ' Well, look at me, young man," he burst out 
 at last, and he smote himself on the breast:" do 
 I look like an ordinary, self-complacent moralist, 
 a preacher? Cannot you understand that, out of 
 mere sympathy for you, no matter how strong 
 that might be, I would never have uttered a word, 
 would not have given you the right to reproach 
 me for that which I hate more than anything else 
 
 225
 
 SMOKE 
 
 for indiscretion, for intrusiveness? Do not you 
 see that the matter here is of a totally different 
 nature that before you is a man who has been 
 crushed, ruined, definitively annihilated by the 
 very same feeling, from the consequences of 
 which he would like to save you, and .... for 
 the very same woman ! " 
 
 Litvinoff retreated a pace. 
 
 " Is it possible ! what have you said. . . . You 
 . . . you . . . Sozont Ivanitch? But Madame 
 Byelsky . . . that child 
 
 " Akh, do not question me . . . trust me ! 
 That dark, terrible story I will not tell you. I 
 hardly knew Madame Byelsky; the child is not 
 mine, but I took entire charge of her .... be- 
 cause .... because she wished it, because it was 
 necessary for her. Why should I be here, in 
 your repulsive Baden? And, in conclusion, do 
 you suppose, could you, for one moment, have 
 imagined that I had made up my mind to warn 
 you out of sympathy? I am sorry for that kind, 
 good young girl, your betrothed; but, however, 
 what business have I with your future, with both 
 of you? . . . But I fear for her . . . for her." 
 
 " You do me much honour, Mr. Potugin,"- 
 began LitvinofF, " but since, according to your 
 words, we are both in the same situation, why do 
 not you read the same sort of exhortations to 
 yourself. And ought not I to attribute your 
 fears to another sentiment? " 
 
 226
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' That is, to jealousy, you mean to say? Ekh, 
 young man, young man, you ought to be ashamed 
 to shuffle and shift; you ought to be ashamed not 
 to understand what bitter woe now speaks 
 through my mouth ! No, you and I are not in the 
 same situation! I, I am an old, ridiculous, ut- 
 terly harmless eccentric fellow . . . but you! 
 But what is the use of talking? Not for one sec- 
 ond would you consent to take upon yourself the 
 role which I am playing, and playing with grati- 
 tude! And jealousy? The man who has not a 
 single drop of hope is not jealous, and this would 
 not be the first time that I have had occasion to 
 experience that emotion. I am only terrified . . . 
 terrified for her, understand that. And could I 
 foresee, when she sent me to you, that the feeling 
 of guilt, which she admitted to be hers, would 
 lead her so far? " 
 
 " But permit me, Sozont Ivanitch, you seem to 
 know . . ." 
 
 " I know nothing, and I know everything. I 
 know," he added, and turned his head away. 
 " I know where she was last night. But she is not 
 to be restrained now: like a stone that has been 
 hurled, she must roll to the bottom. I should be 
 a still greater fool if I were to imagine that my 
 words would immediately arrest you . . . you, to 
 whom such a woman .... But enough on that 
 score. I could not restrain myself, that is my sole 
 excuse. Yes, and, in conclusion, how was I to 
 
 227
 
 SMOKE 
 
 know, and why should I not make the attempt? 
 Perhaps you will think better of it, perhaps some 
 word of mine will fall into your soul. You will 
 not wish to ruin her and yourself, and that inno- 
 cent, lovely creature. . . Akh, be not angry, do 
 not stamp your foot! Why should I be afraid 
 why should I stand on ceremony? It is not jeal- 
 ousy which is speaking in me now, nor irritation. 
 . . I am ready to fall at your feet, to entreat 
 you. . . But farewell. Have no fear: all this 
 will remain a secret. I have wished your good." 
 
 Potugin strode along the avenue, and soon dis- 
 appeared in the already descending gloom. . . . 
 Litvinoff did not detain him. 
 
 " A terrible, dark story," Potugin had said to 
 Litvinoff, and had not been willing to narrate it. 
 .... And we will touch upon it in a couple of 
 words only. 
 
 Eight years previous to this time he had hap- 
 pened to be temporarily ordered by his Ministry 
 to Count Reisenbach. The affair took place in 
 the summer. Potugin had been in the habit of 
 driving out to his villa with documents, and spent 
 whole days in this manner. Irina was then living 
 with the Count. She never disdained persons of 
 inferior positions, at all events, she never shunned 
 them, and the Countess had repeatedly scolded 
 her for her superfluous Moscow familiarity. Irina 
 speedily divined the clever man in this humble 
 official, clothed in uniform, in a coat buttoned to 
 
 228
 
 SMOKE 
 
 the throat. She chatted with him frequently and 
 gladly . . . and he ... he fell in love with her, 
 passionately, profoundly, secretly. . . Secretly! 
 He thought so. 
 
 The summer passed. The Count ceased to re- 
 quire an outside assistant. Potugin lost sight of 
 Irma, but could not forget her. Three years later 
 he quite unexpectedly received an invitation 
 from one of his acquaintances, a lady of me- 
 diocre standing. This lady was somewhat em- 
 barrassed, at first, to express her meaning, but 
 after having extracted from him an oath that he 
 would maintain the greatest secrecy in regard to 
 everything which he should hear, she proposed to 
 him . . . that he should marry a certain young 
 girl who occupied a prominent position in so- 
 ciety, and for whom marriage had become indis- 
 pensable. The lady could hardly make up her 
 mind to hint at the principal in the affair, and 
 then and there offered Potugin money ... a 
 great deal of money. Potugin did not take of- 
 fence, amazement overwhelmed his feeling of 
 wrath, but, as a matter of course, he gave a 
 downright refusal. Then the lady handed him a 
 note addressed to him from Irina. ' You are a 
 noble, kind man," she wrote," and I know that 
 you will do anything for me ; I ask this sacrifice of 
 you. You will save a being who is dear to me. 
 In saving her, you will save me also. . . Do not 
 ask . . . how. I could not have brought myself 
 
 229
 
 SMOKE 
 
 to apply to any one with such a request, but I do 
 stretch out my hands to you, and say : ' Do this 
 for my sake.' ' Potiigin reflected, and said that, 
 in fact, he was ready to do a great deal for Irina 
 Pavlovna, but would like to hear her wish from 
 her own lips. The meeting took place that same 
 evening: it did not last long, and no one knew 
 about it, except the lady. Irina was no longer 
 living at Count Reisenbach's. 
 
 " Why did you think of me, in particular? " 
 Potugin asked her. 
 
 She was on the point of enlarging upon his fine 
 qualities, but suddenly paused. . . 
 
 " No," she said," I must tell you the truth. 
 I knew I know that you love me: this is why I 
 decided upon it. . . . ' And thereupon she told 
 him everything. 
 
 Eliza Byelsky was an orphan ; her relatives did 
 not like her, and were counting upon her inherit- 
 ance . . . ruin stared her in the face. By sav- 
 ing her, Irma really was rendering a service to the 
 man who was the cause of it all, and who had now 
 come to stand very close to her, Irina. . . Potu- 
 gin gazed silently and long at Irina, and con- 
 sented. She fell to weeping, and all in tears, 
 flung herself on his neck. And he also began to 
 weep . . . but their tears were different. Every- 
 thing was already prepared for a secret marriage, 
 a powerful hand had swept aside all obstacles. . . 
 But illness ensued . . . and a daughter was born, 
 
 230
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and the mother poisoned herself. What was to 
 be done with the child? Potiigin took it under his 
 charge from the same hands, from the hands of 
 Irina. 
 
 A terrible, dark story. . . Let us pass on, 
 reader, let us pass on ! 
 
 Over an hour more elapsed before LitvinofF 
 made up his mind to return to his hotel. He was 
 already drawing near to it, when he suddenly 
 heard footsteps behind him. Some one appeared 
 to be persistently following him, and walking 
 faster when he accelerated his pace. As he came 
 under a street-lamp, Litvinoff glanced round, 
 and recognised General Ratmiroff . In a white 
 necktie, and an elegant overcoat thrown open on 
 the breast, with a row of tiny stars and crosses on 
 a golden chain, in the buttonhole of his evening 
 coat, the general was returning from the dinner 
 alone. His glance, directly and boldly riveted 
 upon Litvinoff, expressed such scorn and such 
 hatred, his whole figure breathed forth such an 
 importunate challenge, that Litvinoff considered 
 it his duty to advance to meet him, summoning 
 his courage to advance to meet that " row." But, 
 on coming alongside of LitvinofF, the general's 
 face instantly underwent a change: again his 
 wonted playful elegance made its appearance, 
 and his hand, in its pale lilac glove, raised his 
 shining hat on high. LitvinofF silently took ofF 
 his, and each went his way. 
 
 231
 
 SMOKE 
 
 "Assuredly, he has noticed something!" 
 thought Litvinoff. " If only ... it were any 
 other person! " thought the general. 
 
 Tatyana was playing picquet with her aunt, 
 when Litvinoff entered their room. 
 
 ' Well, you are a nice one, my dear fellow! " 
 exclaimed Kapitolina Markovna, and flung her 
 cards on the table: " on the very first day you 
 have disappeared, and for the entire evening! 
 Here we have been waiting and waiting for you, 
 scolding and scolding. . ." 
 
 " I have not said anything, aunty," remarked 
 Tatyana. 
 
 ' Well, everybody knows what a submissive 
 creature you are! Shame on you, my dear sir! 
 And a betrothed bridegroom, to boot! " 
 
 Litvinoff excused himself, after a fashion, and 
 seated himself at the table. 
 
 " Why have you stopped playing? "he asked, 
 after a brief silence. 
 
 ;< That 's just the point! She and I play cards 
 out of ennui when there is nothing to do .... 
 but now you have come." 
 
 "If you would like to listen to the evening con- 
 cert," said Litvinoff, " I will take you with 
 great pleasure." 
 
 Kapitolina Markovna looked at her niece. 
 
 " Let us go, aunty, I am ready," said the lat- 
 ter," but would it not be better to remain at 
 home? " 
 
 232
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " The very thing! Let us drink tea, in our own 
 Moscow fashion, with a samovar ; and let 's have 
 a good talk. We have n't yet had a thoroughly 
 good chat." 
 
 Litvinoff ordered tea to be brought, but they 
 did not succeed in having a good talk. He ex- 
 perienced an incessant gnawing of conscience ; no 
 matter what he said, it always seemed to him as 
 though he were lying, and that Tatyana divined 
 it. But, in the meanwhile, no change was per- 
 ceptible in her ; she bore herself with as little con- 
 straint as ever .... only, her glance never once 
 rested on Litvinoff, but slipped over him in a con- 
 descending and timid sort of way and she was 
 paler than usual. 
 
 Kapitolina Markovna asked her whether she 
 had not a headache? 
 
 At first Tatyana was on the point of answer- 
 ing "No," but changed her mind, and said: 
 " Yes, a little." 
 
 " It is from the journey," said Litvinoff, and 
 fairly blushed with shame. 
 
 " It is from the journey," repeated Tatyana, 
 and again her glance glided over him. 
 ' You must rest, Tanetchka." 
 
 " I shall go to bed soon, aunty." 
 
 On the table lay the " Guide des Voyageurs "; 
 Litvinoff began to read aloud the description of 
 the environs of Baden. 
 
 " All that is so," Kapitolina Markovna inter- 
 233
 
 SMOKE 
 
 rupted him, " but one thing we must not forget. 
 They say that linen is very cheap here, so we 
 might buy some for the trousseau." 
 
 Tatyana dropped her eyes. 
 
 ;< There is plenty of time, aunty. You never 
 think of yourself. But you certainly must have a 
 new gown made. You see how finely dressed 
 every one is here." 
 
 "Eh, my darling! Why should I? What sort 
 of a fashionable figure-plate should I make? It 
 would be all right if I were as beautiful as that 
 acquaintance of yours, Grigory Mikhailitch 
 what in the world is her name? " 
 
 ' What acquaintance? " 
 
 : ' Why, the one we met to-day." 
 
 "Ah, that one!" said Litvinoff, with simu- 
 lated indifference, and again he felt odious and 
 ashamed. "No!" he said to himself, "things 
 cannot go on in this way! " 
 
 He was sitting by the side of his betrothed, and 
 a few inches away from her, in his pocket, was 
 Irina's handkerchief. 
 
 Kapitolina Markovna went into the next room 
 for a moment. 
 
 ' Tanya . . . ." said Litvinoff, with an ef- 
 fort. He called her by that name for the first 
 time that day. 
 
 She turned toward him. 
 
 "I .... have something important to say to 
 you." 
 
 234
 
 SMOKE 
 
 "All! Really? When? Immediately?" 
 
 " No, to-morrow." 
 
 "Ah! To-morrow. Well, very good." 
 
 Boundless pity immediately filled Litvinoff's 
 soul. He took Tatyana's hand and kissed it sub- 
 missively, like a guilty man; her heart contracted 
 silently, and that kiss did not make her rejoice. 
 
 That night, at two o'clock, Kapitolina Mar- 
 kovna, who slept in the same room with her niece, 
 suddenly raised her head and listened. 
 
 ' Tanya! " she said: " are you crying? " 
 
 Tatyana did not immediately reply. 
 
 " Xo, aunty," her gentle little voice made it- 
 self heard;" I have a cold in the head." 
 
 235
 
 XX 
 
 "WHY did I say that?" thought Litvinoff, on 
 the following morning, as he sat in front of the 
 window in his own room. He shrugged his shoul- 
 ders with vexation: he had said it to Tatyana 
 precisely for the purpose of cutting off all retreat 
 from himself. On the window-sill lay a note 
 from Irina: she summoned him to her at eleven 
 o'clock. Potugin's words incessantly recurred to 
 his memory; then they rushed past with an omi- 
 nous, though feeble, rather subterranean roar ; he 
 waxed angry, and could not, in any way, rid him- 
 self of them. Some one knocked at the door. 
 
 " Wer da? "inquired Litvinoff. 
 
 " Ah! You are at home! Open! " rang out 
 Bindasoff's hoarse bass voice. 
 
 The handle of the door rattled. 
 
 Litvinoff turned pale with wrath. 
 
 " I am not at home," he said sharply. 
 
 ' Why are n't you at home? What sort of a 
 jest is this? " 
 
 " I tell you I am not at home; take yourself 
 off." 
 
 ' That 's amiable of you! And I came to bor- 
 row money," growled Bindasoff. 
 
 236
 
 But he withdrew, clacking his heels, as usual. 
 
 Litvinoff almost rushed out after him, so great 
 was his desire to break the neck of that disgust- 
 ing, insolent fellow. The events of the last few 
 days had deranged his nerves: a little more, and 
 he would have wept. He drank a glass of cold 
 water, locked all the drawers in the furniture, 
 without knowing why he did so, and went to Ta- 
 tyana. 
 
 He found her alone Kapitolina Markovna 
 had betaken herself to the shops to make pur- 
 chases. Tatyana was sitting on the divan, and 
 holding a book with both hands ; she was not read- 
 ing it, and even hardly knew what book it was. 
 She did not stir, but her heart was beating vio- 
 lently in her breast, and the white collar round her 
 neck quivered perceptibly and regularly. 
 
 Litvinoff was disconcerted . . . but he sat down 
 beside her, bade her good morning, and smiled; 
 and she smiled silently at him. She had bowed to 
 him when he entered, bowed politely, not in a 
 friendly manner and had not looked at him. He 
 offered her his hand; she gave him her cold fin- 
 gers, immediately disentangled them, and re- 
 turned to her book. Litvinoff felt that to begin 
 the conversation with trivial subjects would be 
 equivalent to offering Tatyana an affront; ac- 
 cording to her wont, she demanded nothing, but 
 everything in her said : " I am waiting, I am wait- 
 ing. . ." He must fulfil his promise. But, al- 
 
 237
 
 SMOKE 
 
 though he had thought of nothing else almost all 
 night, he had not prepared even the first intro- 
 ductory words, and positively did not know how 
 to break that cruel silence. 
 
 ' Tanya," he began at last, " I told you yes- 
 terday that I have something important to com- 
 municate to you " (in Dresden, when he was 
 alone with her, he had begun to address her as 
 " thou," but now such a thing was not to be 
 thought of ) . "I am ready, only, I beg you in 
 advance, not to blame me, and to feel assured that 
 my feelings for you . . . ." 
 
 He halted. He had lost his breath. Still Ta- 
 tyana never moved, nor did she glance at him : she 
 merely grasped her book more firmly than be- 
 fore. 
 
 " Between us," went on Litvinoff, without 
 completing the speech he had begun, " between 
 us there has always been perfect frankness ; I re- 
 spect you too much to resort to double dealing 
 with you ; I want to prove to you that I prize the 
 loftiness and freedom of your soul, and although 
 I . . although, of course . . . ." 
 
 " Grigory Mikhailitch," began Tatyana in 
 an even voice, and her whole face became over- 
 spread with a death-like pallor," I will come to 
 your assistance : you have ceased to love me, and 
 you do not know how to tell me that." 
 
 Litvinoff involuntarily shuddered. 
 
 " Why? "he said, almost inaudibly, " why 
 233
 
 should you think that? ... I really do not un- 
 derstand. . ." 
 
 " Well, is it not the truth? Is it not the truth? 
 tell me! tell me!" 
 
 Tatyana turned her whole body toward Litvi- 
 noff ; her face, with its hair thrown back, ap- 
 proached his face, and her eyes, which had not 
 looked at him for so long, fairly devoured his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Is it not true? "she repeated. 
 
 He said nothing, did not utter a single sound. 
 He could not have lied at that moment, even if 
 he had known that she would believe him, and that 
 his lie would save her ; he was not even capable of 
 enduring her gaze. Litvinoff said nothing, but 
 she no longer needed an answer ; she read the an- 
 swer in his silence, in those guilty, downcast eyes, 
 and threw herself back, and dropped her book. 
 . . . She had still doubted, up to that moment, 
 and Litvinoff understood this ; he understood that 
 she still doubted and how repulsive, actually re- 
 pulsive, was everything that he had done ! 
 
 He threw himself on his knees before her. 
 
 "Tanya!" he exclaimed: "if I had known 
 how painful it would be to me to behold you in 
 this situation, how frightful it would be to me to 
 think that it is I .... I! My heart is lacerated ; 
 I do not know myself; I have lost myself and 
 thee, and everything. . . . Everything is ruined, 
 Tanya, everything! Could I have foreseen that I 
 
 239
 
 SMOKE 
 
 . . I would deal such a blow to thee, my best 
 friend, my guardian angel! . . . Could I have 
 foreseen that thou and I would meet, would pass 
 such a day as yesterday! . . ." 
 
 Tatyana tried to rise and withdraw. He de- 
 tained her by the hem of her gown. 
 
 " No ; listen to me for another minute. Thou 
 seest, I am kneeling before thee. But I have not 
 come to ask forgiveness, thou canst not and 
 must not forgive me ; I have come to tell thee that 
 thy friend has gone to destruction, that he is fall- 
 ing into the abyss, and does not wish to drag thee 
 down with him. . . . But save me ... no! even thou 
 canst not save me. I myself would have re- 
 pulsed thee. ... I have perished, Tanya, I have 
 perished irrevocably! " 
 
 Tatyana looked at Litvinoif . 
 
 "You have perished! "she said, as though 
 she did not fully understand him." You have 
 perished? " 
 
 " Yes, Tanya, I have perished. All that is 
 past, all that is dear, all that has heretofore con- 
 stituted my life, has perished for me; every- 
 thing is ruined, everything is torn away, and I 
 know not what awaits me in the future. Thou 
 didst tell me immediately that I had ceased to 
 love thee. . . No, Tanya, I have not ceased to 
 love thee, but another, a terrible, irresistible 
 feeling has descended upon me, has flooded me. 
 I resisted it as long as I was able. ..." 
 
 240
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Tatyana rose; her brows were contracted, her 
 pale face had darkened. Litvinoff also rose. 
 
 ' You have fallen in love with another 
 woman," she began, " and I divine who she is. 
 . . We met her yesterday, did we not ? Very well ! 
 I know now what remains for me to do. As you 
 yourself say that this feeling is unalterable in 
 you . . ." (Tatyana paused for an instant: per- 
 haps she still hoped that Litvinoff would not 
 let this last word pass without a reply, but he 
 said nothing) " all there is left for me to do is 
 to give you back . . . your word." Litvinoff 
 bent his head, as though submissively accepting 
 a merited blow. 
 
 ' You have a right to be angry with me," he 
 said," you have a perfect right to reproach 
 me with pusillanimity . . . with deceit." 
 
 Again Tatyana looked at him. 
 
 " I have not reproached you, Litvinoff; I do 
 not accuse you. I agree with you: the very bit- 
 terest truth is better than what went on yesterday. 
 What a life ours would have been under present 
 circumstances! " 
 
 :< What a life mine will be under present cir- 
 cumstances!" echoed painfully in Litvinoff 's 
 soul. 
 
 Tatyana approached the door of the bedroom. 
 
 " I beg that you will leave me alone for a time, 
 Grigory Mikhailitch, we shall meet again, we 
 shall talk together again. All this has been 
 
 241
 
 SMOKE 
 
 so unexpected. I must collect my forces .... 
 leave me . . . spare my pride. We shall see each 
 other again." 
 
 And having said these words, Tatyana hastily 
 left the room and locked the door after her. 
 
 Litvinoff went out into the street as though 
 confused, stunned; something dark and heavy 
 had taken root in the very depths of his heart; a 
 man who has cut another man's throat must ex- 
 perience a similar sensation, and, at the same time, 
 he felt relieved, as though he had at last cast off 
 a hateful burden. Tatyana's magnanimity an- 
 nihilated him ; he was vividly conscious of all that 
 he had lost . . . and what then? Vexation was 
 mingled with his repentance; he longed for 
 Irina, as the sole refuge left him, and was 
 angry with her. For some time past, and with 
 every succeeding day, Litvinoff's feelings had 
 been becoming more and more powerful and 
 complex; this complication tortured, irritated 
 him; he felt lost in this chaos. He thirsted for 
 one thing : to come out, at last, on a road, on any 
 road whatever, if only he might no longer whirl 
 around in this unintelligible twilight. Positive 
 people, like Litvinoff, ought not to get car- 
 ried away by passion ; it destroys the very mean- 
 ing of their lives. . . But nature asks no questions 
 about logic, our human logic; she has her own, 
 which we do not understand and do not recognise 
 until it rolls over us, like a wheel. 
 
 242
 
 SMOKE 
 
 After parting from Tatyana, Litvinoif held 
 one thought firmly in his mind: to see Irina; and 
 he set out for her abode. But the general was 
 at home, at least, so the porter told him, and 
 he did not care to enter; he did not feel himself 
 in a condition to dissimulate, and strolled off to 
 the Konversationshaus. Litvinoff's incapacity 
 for dissimulation was experienced that day by 
 Voroshiloff and Pishtchalkin, who chanced to 
 encounter him : he fairly told one of them point- 
 blank that he was as empty as a tambourine ; the 
 other, that he was tiresome enough to make a man 
 swoon; it was a good thing that Bindasoff did 
 not turn up: a "grosser Scandal" certainly 
 would have ensued. Both young men were 
 amazed ; Voroshiloff even asked himself whether 
 his honour as an officer did not demand repara- 
 tion? but, like Gogol's lieutenant Pirogoff, he 
 soothed himself in the cafe with bread and butter. 
 Litvinoff caught a distant glimpse of Kapitolina 
 Markovna, busily running from shop to shop in 
 her motley mantle. . . He felt ashamed before 
 the kind, ridiculous, noble old woman. Then he 
 recalled Potugin and their conversation of the 
 preceding day. . . . But now some influence was 
 breathing upon him, something impalpable and 
 indubitable; had the exhalation emanated from 
 a falling shadow, it could not have been more 
 intangible. But he immediately felt that Irina 
 was approaching. And in fact, she appeared at 
 
 243
 
 SMOKE 
 
 a distance of a few paces, arm in arm with another 
 lady ; their eyes instantly met. Irina, in all proba- 
 bility, noticed something unusual in the expres- 
 sion of Litvfnoff's face; she halted in front of a 
 shop, in which a mass of tiny wooden clocks of 
 Schwarzwald manufacture were on sale, sum- 
 moned him to her by a movement of her head, 
 and pointing out one of these clocks to him, and 
 requesting him to admire the pretty dial-plate, 
 with a painted cuckoo at the top, she said, not in a 
 whisper, but in her ordinary voice, as though com- 
 pleting a phrase which had been begun which at- 
 tracts less attention from strangers: 
 
 " Come an hour hence, I shall be at home and 
 alone." 
 
 But at this point, that squire of dames, Mon- 
 sieur Verdier, fluttered up to her, and began to 
 go into ecstasies over the feuille morte tint of her 
 gown, over her low-crowned Spanish hat, which 
 was pulled down to her very eyebrows. . . Litvi- 
 noff vanished in the crowd. 
 
 244
 
 XXI 
 
 " GRIGORY," said Irina to him, two hours 
 later, as she sat beside him on the couch and laid 
 both her hands on his shoulders. " What is the 
 matter with thee? Tell me now, quickly, while 
 we are alone." 
 
 " With me? "said Litvinoff. " I am happy, 
 happy, that is what is the matter with me." 
 
 Irina dropped her eyes, smiled, sighed. 
 
 " That is not an answer to my question, my 
 dear one. " 
 
 Litvinoff reflected. 
 
 " Well, then, thou must know . . . since thou 
 imperatively demandest it" (Irina opened her 
 eyes very widely, and drew back a little) : " I 
 have to-day told my betrothed everything." 
 
 " What dost thou mean by everything? Didst 
 thou mention my name? " 
 
 " Irina, for God's sake, how could such a 
 thought enter thy head ! that I . ..." 
 
 Litvinoff actually clasped his hands. 
 ' Well, forgive me .... forgive me. What 
 didst thou say? " 
 
 ' I told her that I no longer loved her." 
 
 "Did she ask why?" 
 
 245
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " I did not conceal from her the fact that I 
 loved another, and that we must part." 
 
 ' Well . . . and how about her? Did she con- 
 sent?" 
 
 " Akh, Irina, what a girl she is ! She is all self - 
 ^sacrifice, all nobility! " 
 
 " I believe it, I believe it . . however, there was 
 nothing else left for her to do." 
 
 " And not a single reproach, not a single bit- 
 ter word to me, to the man w r ho has spoiled her 
 whole life, who has deceived her, pitilessly 
 abandoned her. . ." 
 
 Irina inspected her finger-nails. 
 
 ' Tell me, Grigory, did she love thee? " 
 
 ' Yes, Irma, she did love me." 
 
 Irina said nothing, but smoothed her gown. 
 
 " I must confess," she began," that I do 
 not quite understand why thou hast taken it into 
 thy head to have an explanation with her." 
 
 " How is it that thou dost not understand it, 
 Irina! Is it possible that thou wouldst have 
 wished to have me lie, dissimulate before her be- 
 fore that pure soul? Or didst thou assume . . . ." 
 
 " I assumed nothing," interrupted Irina. ' I 
 must admit that I have thought very little about 
 her. . . I cannot think of two persons at the same 
 time." 
 
 " That is, thou intendest to say . . ." 
 
 "Well, and what then? Is she going away, 
 that pure soul? "interrupted Irina again. 
 
 246
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " I know nothing about that," replied Litvi- 
 nofF. " I must see her again. But she will not 
 remain." 
 
 " All! A prosperous journey to her! " 
 
 " No, she will not remain. But neither am I 
 thinking of her at present. I am thinking of 
 what thou hast said to me, of what thou hast 
 promised me." 
 
 Irina cast a sidelong glance at him. 
 
 " Ungrateful! Art thou still not satisfied? " 
 
 " No, Irina, I am not satisfied. Thou hast 
 made me happy, but I am not satisfied, and thou 
 understandest me." 
 
 " That is to say, I . . ." 
 
 ' Yes, thou understandest my meaning. 
 Recollect thy words, remember what thou hast 
 written to me. I cannot share with another; I 
 cannot consent to the pitiful role of a secret lover ; 
 I have cast not my own life only, but another 
 life also, at thy feet. I have renounced every- 
 thing I have, I have ground everything to dust, 
 without compassion and without recall; but, on 
 the other hand, I believe, I am firmly convinced, 
 that thou also wilt keep thy promise and wilt 
 unite thy fate forever to mine. . . .." 
 
 " Thou desirest that I should flee with thee? 
 I am ready . . ." (Litvinoff kissed her hands 
 with rapture) " I am ready; I do not take back 
 my word. But hast thou considered the difficul- 
 ties . . . hast thou prepared the means ?" 
 
 247
 
 SMOKE 
 
 "I? I have not yet had time to consider, or to 
 prepare, but say this one thing, ' yes ' ; grant me 
 the permission to act, and before a month shall 
 have elapsed . . . ." 
 
 " A month ! We leave for Italy in a fort- 
 night." 
 
 " A fortnight is enough for me. Oh, Irina ! 
 thou receivest my proposal coldly, to all appear- 
 ances ; perhaps it seems to thee fanciful, but I am 
 not a boy, I am not accustomed to comfort myself 
 with fancies; I know that it is a terrible step, I 
 know what a responsibility I am assuming, but I 
 see no other issue. Reflect, in short, that I am 
 bound to break off all connection with the past, 
 in order that I may not bear the reputation of a 
 despicable liar in the eyes of that young girl 
 whom I have sacrificed for thy sake." 
 
 Irina suddenly drew herself up, and her eyes 
 flashed. 
 
 ' Well, you must excuse me, Grigory Mikhai- 
 litch ! If I make up my mind to do that, if I flee, 
 I shall flee with the man who does it for me, pre- 
 cisely for me, and not for the sake of not lowering 
 himself in the opinion of a phlegmatic young lady 
 who has milk and water, du lait coupe, in her 
 veins, in place of blood. And I will tell you 
 something else, also: I must say that this is the 
 first time it has ever been my lot to hear that the 
 man to whom I have shown favour is deserving 
 of compassion, is playing a sorry part! I know 
 
 248
 
 SMOKE 
 
 a more pitiful role: the role of a man who docs 
 not know what is going on in his own soul ! " 
 
 It was now Litvinoff's turn to draw himself 
 up. 
 
 " Irina," he began. 
 
 But she suddenly pressed both palms to her 
 brow, and flinging herself on his breast, with a 
 convulsive impulse, embraced him with unfemi- 
 nine force. 
 
 " Forgive me, forgive me," she said in a 
 trembling voice," forgive me, Grigory! Thou 
 seest how spoiled I am, how hateful, jealous, 
 wicked I am! Thou seest how I need thy help, 
 thy indulgence! Yes, save me, tear me out of 
 this abyss before I perish utterly ! Yes, let us flee, 
 let us flee from these people, from this society, 
 into some distant, free, beautiful land! Perhaps 
 thy Irina will become, at last, more worth} 7 of the 
 sacrifices which thou art making for her ! Be not 
 angry with me, my dearest, and understand 
 that I will do everything which thou commandest ; 
 I will go anywhere, whithersoever thou leadest 
 me!" 
 
 Litvinoff 's heart was completely upset. Irina 
 pressed more violently than ever to him with her 
 supple 3 7 oung body. He bent over her dishev- 
 elled, perfumed locks, and in an intoxication of 
 gratitude and rapture, hardly ventured to caress 
 them with his hand, hardly touched them with his 
 lips. 
 
 249
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Irina, Irina," he kept repeating, " my 
 angel. . ." 
 
 She suddenly raised her head, listened. . . 
 ' Those are my husband's footsteps . . he has 
 gone into his own room," she whispered, and 
 hastily moving away, she seated herself in an 
 arm-chair. Litvinoff was on the point of rising. 
 . . " Where art thou going? " she continued in the 
 same whisper: " remain; he suspects thee, as 
 it is. Or art thou afraid of him?" She never 
 took her eyes from the door. ' Yes, it is he; he 
 will come hither immediately. Tell me some- 
 thing, converse with me." Litvinoff could not 
 at once recover himself, and remained silent. 
 " Are not you going to the theatre to-morrow? " 
 she said aloud. ' They are playing ' Le Verre 
 d'Eau,' a stale old piece, and,Plessy is frightfully 
 affected. . . I feel as though I were in a fever," 
 she added, lowering her voice, we cannot 
 go on like this ; we must think it over carefully. I 
 must warn thee that he has all my money; mais 
 j'ai mes bijoux. Let us go to Spain, shall we? " 
 Again she raised her voice. ' Why is it that 
 all actresses get fat? There is Madeleine Brohan, 
 for example. . . Do say something; don't sit 
 there dumb like that. My head is whirling. But 
 thou must have no doubts of me. . . I will let 
 thee know where thou must come to-morrow. 
 Only, it was unnecessary for thee to tell that 
 young lady. . . . Ah! mais c'est charmant! "
 
 SMOKE 
 
 she suddenly exclaimed, and with a nervous laugh 
 she tore off the border of her handkerchief. 
 
 " May I come in? "inquired Ratmiroff, from 
 the adjoining room. 
 
 "Yes yes." 
 
 The door opened, and the general appeared on 
 the threshold. He scowled at the sight of Litvi- 
 nofF, but saluted him, that is to say, he swayed the 
 upper part of his body. 
 
 " I did not know that thou hadst a visitor," 
 he said: " je vous demande pardon de mon in- 
 discretion. And does Baden still amuse you, 
 Monsieur .... LitvinofF? " 
 
 Ratmiroff always pronounced Litvinoff's sur- 
 name with hestitation, as though he had for- 
 gotten it every time, and could not immediately 
 recall it. . . By this means, and by raising his hat 
 in an exaggerated manner, he meant to sting him. 
 
 " I do not find myself bored here, Monsieur 
 le general." 
 
 " Really? But I have grown horribly tired of 
 Baden. We are going away shortly, are we not, 
 Irma Pavlovna? Assez de Bade comme fa. 
 Moreover, luckily for you, I have won five hun- 
 dred francs to-day." 
 
 Irma coquettishly held out her hand. 
 ' Where are they? Please give them to me. 
 For pin-money." 
 
 " I have them ... I have them. . . . But are you 
 going already, M'sieu' . . . Litvinoff? " 
 
 251
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' Yes, sir, I am going, as you see." 
 
 Again RatmirofF swayed his body. 
 
 " Farewell until another pleasant meeting! " 
 
 " Good-bye, Grigory Mikhailovitch," said 
 Irina. " And I shall keep my promise." 
 
 ' What promise? if I may be so curious as to 
 inquire? " asked her husband. 
 
 Irina smiled. 
 
 " No that is ... a matter between ourselves. 
 C'est apropos du voyage . . . ou il vous plaira. 
 Art thou acquainted with Stael's works? " 
 
 " Ah! of course, of course I am. Very pretty 
 pictures. . ." 
 
 RatmirofF appeared to be on good terms with 
 his wife: he addressed her as " thou." 
 
 252
 
 XXII 
 
 'Tis better not to think about it," Litvinoff kept 
 repeating to himself, as he strode along the street, 
 and became conscious that the turmoil within him 
 was rising once more. ' The matter is settled. 
 She will keep her promise, and all I have to do 
 is to take all the necessary measures. . . But she 
 seems to doubt." . . . He shook his head. His 
 own intentions presented themselves to him in an 
 odd light; there was a touch of strangeness and 
 improbability about them. It is not possible to 
 dwell long upon one and the same set of thoughts ; 
 they gradually shift their places, like bits of glass 
 in a kaleidoscope .... and the first one knows, 
 the figures before his eyes are totally different. 
 A sensation of profound weariness overpowered 
 Litvmoff. . . He longed to rest for an hour. . . 
 But Tanya? He gave a start, and without re- 
 flecting further, submissively wended his way 
 home, and the only thing which occurred to him 
 was that to-day he was being tossed from one 
 woman to another, like a ball. . . It mattered 
 not : he had been compelled to make an end of it. 
 He entered the hotel, and in the same submissive 
 manner, without hesitation or delay, he betook 
 himself to Tatyana. 
 
 253
 
 SMOKE 
 
 He was met by Kapitolina Markovna. With 
 his first glance at her, he recognised the fact that 
 she knew everything: the poor spinster's eyes 
 were swollen with tears, and her reddened face, 
 framed in rumpled white hair, expressed alarm 
 and the pain of indignation, of burning and 
 boundless amazement. She darted toward 
 LitvinofF, but instantly paused, and biting her 
 quivering lips, she gazed at him, as though she 
 wished to entreat him, and slay him, and convince 
 herself that all this was a dream, madness, an im- 
 possible affair, was it not? 
 
 " Here, you . . you have come, you have come," 
 she began. . . The door leading into the adjoining 
 room instantly flew open and Tatyana, pale to 
 transparency, entered with a light step. 
 
 She softly embraced her 'aunt with one arm, 
 and made her sit down by her side. 
 
 " Do you sit down also Grigory Mikhailitch," 
 she said to Litvinoff, who was standing, as 
 though bewildered, near the door. " I am very 
 glad to see you again. I have communicated 
 your decision, our mutual decision, to aunty; she 
 shares it entirely, and approves of it. . . With- 
 out mutual love there can be no happiness; 
 mutual respect alone is not sufficient " (at the 
 word " respect " Litvfnoff involuntarily cast 
 down his eyes), " and it is better to part before- 
 hand, than to repent afterward. Is n't that true, 
 aunty? " 
 
 254
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' Yes, of course," began Kapitolina Mar- 
 kovna, " of course, Taniusha, the man who does 
 not know how to value you . . . who has made up 
 his mind . . ." 
 
 " Aunty, aunty," Tatyana interrupted her, 
 " remember what you promised me. You 
 yourself have always said to me : ' the truth, the 
 truth before everything, and liberty.' Well, 
 and truth is not always sweet, neither is liberty; 
 otherwise, wherein would our merit lie? " 
 
 She kissed Kapitolina Markovna tenderly on 
 her white hair, and turning to Litvinoff she went 
 on: 
 
 " My aunt and I have decided to leave Baden. 
 . . I think it will be easier so for all of us." 
 
 ' When do you think of going? " said 
 Litvinoff, in a dull voice. He recalled that 
 Irina had said the very same words to him not 
 long before. 
 
 Kapitolina Markovna was on the point of 
 starting forward, but Tatyana restrained her, 
 touching her lightly on the shoulder. 
 
 " Probably soon, very soon." 
 
 " And will you permit me to inquire whither 
 you intend to go? " asked LitvinoiF in the same 
 voice as before. 
 
 " First to Dresden, then, probably, to Russia." 
 
 " But what do you want to know that for now, 
 Grigory Mikhailitch? " . . exclaimed Kapitolina 
 Markovna. 
 
 255
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " Aunty, aunty," interposed Tatyana again. 
 A brief silence ensued. 
 
 ' Tatyana Petrovna," began Litvinoff, 
 " you understand what a torturingly painful 
 and sorrowful feeling I must be experiencing at 
 this moment. . . ." 
 
 Tatyana rose. 
 
 " Grigory Mikhailitch," she said," let us 
 not talk about that. . . . Please, I entreat you, for 
 your own sake as well as for mine. I cannot rec- 
 ognise you since yesterday, and I can very well 
 imagine that you must be suffering now. But 
 what is the use of talking, what is the use of irri- 
 tating . . . ." (She paused: it was evident that 
 she wished to wait until her rising emotion was 
 allayed, to swallow the tears which were already 
 welling up ; and in this she succeeded. ) ' What 
 is the use of irritating the wound which it is im- 
 possible to heal? Let us leave that to time. But 
 now I have a request to make of you, Grigory 
 Mikhailitch: I will give you a letter presently; 
 be so good as to post that letter yourself, it is of 
 considerable importance, and aunty and I have 
 no time now. ... I shall be very much obliged to 
 you. Wait a moment. . . I will return imme- 
 diately. . . ." 
 
 On the threshold of the door Tatyana cast an 
 apprehensive glance at Kapitolina Markovna; 
 but the latter was sitting in so dignified and de- 
 corous an attitude, with such a severe expression 
 
 256
 
 SMOKE 
 
 on her frowning brow and tightly-compressed 
 lips, that Tatyana only nodded to her, and left the 
 room. 
 
 But the door had barely closed behind her, when 
 all expression of dignity and severity instanta- 
 neously vanished from the face of Kapitolina 
 Markovna: she rose, rushed up to LitvinofF on 
 tiptoe, and bending double, and striving to look 
 into his eyes, she began to speak in a hurried, 
 tearful whisper: 
 
 " O Lord my God," said she," Grigory 
 Mikhailitch, what is the meaning of this: is it 
 a dream? You reject Tanya, you have ceased 
 to love her, you have betrayed your word! You 
 are doing this, Grigory Mikhailitch, you, in 
 whom we all had trusted as in a wall of stone! 
 You? You? Thou, Grisha? . . ." Kapitolina 
 Markovna paused." Why, you are killing her, 
 Grigory Mikhailitch," she went on, without 
 awaiting an answer, and her tears fairly streamed, 
 in tiny drops, down her cheeks." You need not 
 regard the fact that she is keeping up her cour- 
 age, for you know what her disposition is! She 
 never complains ; she never pities herself, so others 
 must pity her ! Here she is now, persuading me : 
 ' Aunty, we must maintain our dignity! ' but who 
 cares about dignity, when I foresee death, death. 
 . . ." Tatyana made a noise with a chair in the 
 adjoining room." Yes, I foresee death," re- 
 sumed the old woman, in a still softer voice. 
 
 257
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " And what can have happened ? Have you been 
 bewitched? It was not so very long ago, was it, 
 that you were writing her the tenderest sort of 
 letters? Yes, and in conclusion, can an honest 
 man behave in this manner? I, as you know, am 
 a woman wholly devoid of prejudices, esprit fort, 
 and I have given Tanya the same sort of educa- 
 tion she, also, has a free spirit. . . ." 
 
 " Aunty! " rang out Tatyana's voice from the 
 next room. 
 
 "But your word of honour, this is duty, 
 Grigory Mikhailitch. Especially for people with 
 your with our principles! If we do not recog- 
 nise duty, what is left to us? That must not be 
 violated in this way, at one's own caprice, with- 
 out considering what is to be the result on others ! 
 This is dishonest . . . yes, it is a crime ; what sort 
 of freedom is this? " 
 
 " Aunty, come here, please," rang out again. 
 
 " In a minute, my darling, in a minute. . ." 
 Kapitolina Markovna seized Litvinoff by the 
 hand. " I see you are angry, Grigory Mikhai- 
 litch. . ." ("I? I am angry?" he tried to ex- 
 claim, but his tongue was benumbed.) " I do not 
 wish to make you angry O Lord! am I in any 
 mood for that? On the contrary, I wish to entreat 
 you: change your mind while still there is time; 
 do not destroy her, do not destroy your own 
 happiness; she will trust you again, Grigory 
 Mikhailitch, she will trust you again; nothing 
 
 258
 
 SMOKE 
 
 is lost yet; for she loves you as no one ever will 
 love you! Abandon this hateful Baden-Baden, 
 let us go away together, only get away from un- 
 der this spell, and, the chief thing of all, have 
 pity, have pity. . ." 
 
 " But aunty," said Tatyana, with a trace of 
 impatience in her voice. 
 
 But Kapitolina Markovna did not obey her. 
 
 " Only say yes," she persisted to Litvinoff, 
 
 " and I will arrange all the rest. . . Come, at 
 least nod your head at me! nod your head, just 
 once, like this ! " Litvinoff felt as though he 
 would gladly have died at that moment; but he 
 did not utter the word " yes," and he did not nod 
 his head. 
 
 Tatyana made her appearance, letter in hand. 
 Kapitolina Markovna instantly sprang away 
 from Litvinoff, and turning her face aside, bent 
 low over the table, as though she were inspecting 
 the bills and papers which lay upon it. 
 
 Tatyana approached Litvinoff. 
 
 " Here," said she," this is the letter of 
 which I spoke to you. . . You will go immedi- 
 ately to the post-office, will you not? " 
 
 Litvinoff raised his eyes. . . Before him, in 
 very truth, stood his judge. Tatyana seemed 
 to him taller, more stately; her face, beaming 
 with unprecedented beauty, had become magnifi- 
 cently petrified, as in a statue; her bosom did 
 not rise and fall, and her gown, uniform in hue, 
 
 259
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and close-fitting, fell, like a chiton, in the long, 
 straight folds of marble fabrics, to her feet, which 
 it concealed. Tatyana was gazing straight be- 
 fore her, at Litvinoff only, and her glance, also 
 smooth and cold, was the glance of a statue. In 
 it he read his sentence; he bowed, took the letter 
 from the hand which was immovably outstretched 
 toward him and silently departed. 
 
 Kapitolina Markovna flew at Tatyana, but the 
 latter repulsed her embrace, and dropped her 
 eyes; a flush overspread her face, and with the 
 words, " Come, as quickly as possible now! " she 
 returned to the bedroom; Kapitolina Markovna 
 followed her, with drooping head. 
 
 On the letter intrusted to Litvinoff by Ta- 
 tyana stood the address of one of her friends 
 in Dresden, a German, who let out small, fur- 
 nished apartments. Litvinoff dropped the letter 
 into the post-box, and it seemed to him that, 
 along with that little scrap of paper, he had laid 
 all his past, his whole life, in the grave. He 
 went out of the town, and roamed, for a long 
 time, along the narrow paths among the vine- 
 yards; he could not rid himself of an incessant 
 feeling of scorn for himself, which beset him like 
 the buzzing of an importunate summer fly: he 
 certainly had played a far from enviable part in 
 this last interview. . . . And when he returned to 
 the hotel and, a little while later, inquired about 
 his ladies, he was informed that immediately 
 
 260
 
 SMOKE 
 
 after his departure they had ordered themselves 
 to be driven to the railway station, and had set off, 
 with the mail-train, no one knew whither. Their 
 things had been packed and their bills paid since 
 the morning. Tatyana had requested Litvinoff 
 to take the letter to the post-office, evidently with 
 a view to getting him out of the way. He tried 
 to question the door-porter: " Had not the ladies 
 left a note for him? " but the porter replied in the 
 negative, and even manifested surprise; it was 
 plain that this sudden departure from rooms en- 
 gaged for a week struck him as strange and sus- 
 picious. Litvinoff turned his back on him, and 
 locked himself up in his own room. 
 
 He did not leave it until the following day; 
 during the greater part of the night he sat at the 
 table, writing and tearing up what he had writ- 
 ten. . . Daylight had already begun to dawn 
 when he finished his work, which was a letter to 
 Irfna. 
 
 261
 
 XXIII 
 
 THIS is what the letter to Irina contained : 
 
 " My betrothed bride went away yesterday : we shall 
 never see each other again. . . I do not even know 
 with certainty where she will live. She carried away 
 with her everything which hitherto had seemed to be 
 desirable and precious; all my purposes, plans, inten- 
 tions, vanished along with her; my very labours have 
 disappeared, my prolonged toil has been turned to 
 naught, all my occupations have lost their sense and 
 application; all this is dead; my ego, my former ego, 
 died and was buried with yesterday. I feel that plainly, 
 I see, I know it. . . And I do not complain, in the 
 least, of that. It is not for the purpose of complaining 
 that I have begun to discuss this with thee. . . Have 
 I any cause to complain, when thou lovest me, Irina? 
 I only want to tell thee, that out of all this dead past, 
 out of all these beginnings and hopes which have 
 turned to smoke and dust only one living, invincible 
 thing remains: my love for thee. Save for this love, 
 I have nothing left; it would not be enough to call 
 it my sole treasure; I am all in this love, this love is 
 the whole of me; in it is my future, my vocation, my 
 holy things, my fatherland ! Thou knowest me, Irina, 
 thou knowest that set phrases are foreign and abhor- 
 rent to me, and however forcible may be the words where- 
 with I strive to express my feeling, thou wilt not doubt 
 
 262
 
 SMOKE 
 
 their sincerity, them wilt not consider them exaggerated. 
 It is not a boy, who is stammering out ill-considered 
 vows before thee, in a burst of momentary enthusiasm, 
 it is a man, already tried by the years, who simply and 
 straightforwardly, almost with terror, is expressing 
 that which he has recognised to be the indubitable truth. 
 Yes, thy love has taken the place of everything else with 
 me everything, everything! Judge for thyself: can 
 I leave all this in the hands of another man, can I 
 permit him to dispose of thee? Thou, thou wilt belong 
 to him, all my being, my heart's blood, will belong to 
 him, and I myself . . . Where am I? What am I? 
 I am to stand on one side, as a looker-on .... a 
 looker-on at my own life ! No, this is impossible, impos- 
 sible ! To share, to share by stealth in that without 
 which it is not worth while, without which it is impos- 
 sible to breathe . . . that is a lie and death. I know 
 how great is the sacrifice I require of thee, without 
 having any right so to do; and what can give one 
 a right to a sacrifice? But I do not take this step from 
 egoism: an egoist would find it easier and more tran- 
 quil not to raise this question at all. Yes, my demands 
 are heavy, and I shall not be surprised if they frighten 
 thee. The people with whom thou must live are hate- 
 ful to me, society oppresses thee ; but hast thou the 
 strength to abandon that same society, to trample un- 
 der foot the crown wherewith it has crowned thee, to 
 arouse against thee public opinion, the opinion of those 
 hateful people? Ask thyself, Irina; do not take upon 
 thyself a burden greater than thou canst bear. . 
 I do not mean to reproach thee, but remember: once 
 before thou hast failed to resist the charm. I can give 
 thee so little in exchange for what thou wilt lose! 
 
 263
 
 SMOKE 
 
 Hearken to my last word: if thou dost not feel thyself 
 in a condition to leave everything and follow me to- 
 morrow, to-day, thou seest how boldly I speak, how 
 little I spare myself, if the uncertainty of the fu- 
 ture, and estrangement, and isolation, and public cen- 
 sure alarm thee, if thou canst not trust thyself, in a 
 word tell me so frankly and without delay, and I will 
 go away; I will go away, with a harrowed soul, but I 
 will thank thee for thy truthfulness. But if thou, my 
 most beautiful, my radiant empress, hast really come 
 to love such a petty, obscure man as I, and art really 
 ready to share his lot, well, then give me thy hand, and 
 we will set forth together on our different road ! Only, 
 thou must know this: my resolution is firm: either all, 
 or nothing! This is madness . . . but I cannot do 
 otherwise, I cannot, Irina! I love thee too mightily. 
 
 "Thy G. L." 
 
 This letter did not please Litvinoff himself 
 very much. It did not quite faithfully and ac- 
 curately express what he wished to say ; awkward 
 expressions, by turns magniloquent and bookish, 
 occurred in it, and when it was finished it was no 
 better than many of the other letters which he had 
 torn up; but it happened to be the last one, and 
 after all, the chief thing had been said; and 
 weary, exhausted, Litvinoff did not feel himself 
 capable of extracting anything else from his 
 head. Moreover, he did not possess the skill to set 
 forth his whole thought in literary form, and, like 
 all persons who are not accustomed to this, he 
 
 264
 
 SMOKE 
 
 worried over the style. His first letter had, prob- 
 ably, been the best: it had poured forth burning 
 hot from his heart. At any rate, Litvinoff des- 
 patched his epistle to Irina. 
 She replied with a brief note: 
 
 " Come to me to-day," she wrote to him ; " he has 
 gone off for the whole day. Thy letter has agitated 
 me extremely. I keep thinking, thinking . . . and 
 my head is dizzy with my thoughts. I am greatly dis- 
 tressed, but thou lovest me, and I am happy. 
 
 " Thy I." 
 
 She was sitting in her boudoir when Litvinoff 
 presented himself to her. He was ushered in by 
 the same thirteen-year-old girl who had kept 
 watch for him on the staircase the day before. 
 On the table, in front of Irina, stood an open, 
 semicircular pasteboard box filled with laces; she 
 was abstractedly turning them over with one 
 hand; in the other she held Litvinoff's letter. 
 She had only just stopped crying: her eyelashes 
 were wet, and her eyelids were swollen ; the traces 
 of tears which had not been wiped away were 
 visible on her cheeks. Litvinoff halted on the 
 threshold: she had not observed his entrance. 
 
 ' Thou art weeping? " he said in amazement. 
 
 She started, passed her hand over her hair, and 
 smiled. 
 
 ' Why art thou weeping? "repeated Litvi- 
 noff. She silently pointed to the letter. 
 
 265
 
 SMOKE 
 
 " So thou art crying over that . . ." he said, 
 haltingly. 
 
 " Come here, sit down," she said, " give me 
 thy hand. Well, yes, I have been crying. . . .Why 
 does that surprise thee? Is this easy?" Again 
 she pointed at the letter. Litvinoff sat down. 
 
 " I know that it is not easy, Irma; I say the 
 same thing to thee in my letter. . . I understand 
 thy position. But if thou believest in the signi- 
 ficance of thy love for me, if my words have con- 
 vinced thee, thou must also understand what I 
 now feel at the sight of thy tears. I have come 
 hither like a condemned man, but I am waiting: 
 what will be announced to me? Death or life? 
 Thy answer will decide everything. Only, do 
 not look at me with such eyes. . . . They remind 
 me of the eyes of days gone by, the Moscow- 
 eyes." 
 
 Irma suddenly blushed and turned away, as 
 though she herself were conscious of something 
 improper in her gaze. 
 
 ; ' Why dost thou say that, Grigory? Art not 
 thou ashamed of thyself? Thou wishest to know 
 my answer .... but canst thou doubt it? Thy 
 letter, my friend, has set me to thinking. Thou 
 writest here that my love has replaced all else 
 for thee, that even thy former occupations must 
 now remain without application; but I ask thee: 
 Can a man live by love alone? Will it not pal] 
 on him in the end, will not he long for activity, 
 
 266
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and will not he upbraid that which has alienated 
 him from it? That is the thought which terrifies 
 me; that is what I fear, and not that which thou 
 hast proposed." 
 
 Litvinoff gazed attentively at Irina, and Irina 
 gazed attentively at him as though each of them 
 was desirous of penetrating further and more 
 profoundly into the soul of the other, further and 
 more profoundly than the spoken word can at- 
 tain, or reveal. 
 
 ' There is no necessity for thy fearing that," 
 began Litvinoff. " I must have expressed my- 
 self badly." Boredom? Inactivity? With the 
 new forces which thy love will give me? Oh, 
 Irina, believe me, thy love is all the world to 
 me, and I myself cannot now foresee all that may 
 develop from it! " 
 
 Irina became thoughtful. 
 
 " But where are we to go? " she whispered. 
 
 ' Where? We will talk about that hereafter. 
 But, of course ... of course, thou consentest 
 . . . thou consentest, Irina? " 
 
 She looked at him. "And thou wilt be 
 happy? " 
 
 "Oh, Irina!" 
 
 ' Thou wilt regret nothing? Never? " 
 
 She bent over the box of laces, and again began 
 to sort them over. 
 
 " Be not angry with me, my dearest, if I busy 
 myself with this nonsense at such a moment. . . 
 
 267
 
 SMOKE 
 
 I am obliged to go to a ball, given by a certain 
 lady. These rags have been sent to me, and I 
 must make my selection to-day. Akh ! I am ter- 
 ribly distressed! "she suddenly exclaimed, and 
 laid her face against the edge of the box. . . 
 Again tears dropped from her eyes. . . She 
 turned away : the tears might fall on the lace. 
 
 " Irina, thou art weeping again," began Lit- 
 vinoff, anxiously. 
 
 4 Well, yes, I am," assented Irina. "Akh, 
 Grigory, do not torture me, do not torture thy- 
 self! . . . Let us be free people! What is the harm 
 if I do cry? Yes, and do I understand myself 
 why these tears flow? Thou knowest, thou hast 
 heard my decision, thou art convinced that it is 
 unalterable, that I consent to ... how was it thou 
 didst word it? . . to everything or nothing . . . 
 what more? Let us be free! Why these mutual 
 chains ? Thou and I are alone now. Thou lovest 
 me, I love thee ; have we nothing better to do than 
 to extort our opinions from each other? Look at 
 me; I have not tried to present myself in a fine 
 light before thee, not by so much as a single word 
 have I hinted at the fact, that it may not be so 
 easy for me to trample under foot my conjugal 
 duties. . . But I do not deceive myself, I know 
 that I am a criminal, and that lie has a right to 
 kill me. Well, and w r hat of that! Let us be 
 free, I say. The clay is ours eternity is ours." 
 
 She rose from her chair, and looked down upon 
 268
 
 Litvinoff, smiling faintly, and narrowing her 
 eyelids, and with her arm, bare to the elbow, 
 sweeping back a long lock of hair, upon which 
 sparkled two or three tears. A rich lace shoulder- 
 cape slipped from the table and fell on the floor, 
 at Irina's feet. She trod upon it with scorn. 
 " Do not I please thee to-day? Have I grown 
 ugly since yesterday? Tell me, hast thou often 
 beheld a more beautiful arm? And my hair? 
 Tell me, dost thou love me? " 
 
 She seized him with both arms, pressed his 
 head to her breast ; her comb rattled and fell, and 
 her loosened hair flowed over him in a soft, per- 
 fumed flood.
 
 XXIV 
 
 LITVINOFF paced to and fro in his room at the 
 hotel, with thoughtfully drooping head. It now 
 behoved him to pass from theory to practice, to 
 seek the means and the road for a flight, for an 
 emigration to unknown lands. . . But, strange to 
 say, he was not meditating about these means and 
 roads so much as on the point, had the resolu- 
 tion on which he had so obstinately insisted been 
 actually, indubitably taken? Had the final, ir- 
 revocable word been uttered? But, surely, 
 Irina had said to him at parting : " Act, act, and 
 when everything is ready, thou hast only to 
 inform me." It was settled! Away with all 
 doubts. . . He must proceed. And Litvinoff had 
 proceeded so far to meditation. First of all, 
 there was the question of money. Litvinoff had 
 on hand one thousand three hundred and thirty- 
 eight gulden in French money two thousand 
 eight hundred and fifty-eight francs; it was an 
 insignificant sum, but sufficient for their first 
 necessities, and so he must write at once to his 
 father to send him as much as possible : he might 
 sell a forest, a bit of land. . . But under what pre- 
 text? . . . Well, a pretext would be found. Irina 
 
 270
 
 SMOKE 
 
 had spoken, it is true, of her bijoux, but it was not 
 proper to take that into consideration ; who knows 
 but they might serve for a rainy day. In addi- 
 tion, among his assets was a fine Geneva half- 
 chronometer watch, for which he might get . . say, 
 four hundred francs. Litvinoff betook himself 
 to his bankers, and turned the conversation, in a 
 roundabout way, on the subject whether it would 
 be possible, in case of need, to borrow money. 
 But the bankers in Baden are an experienced 
 and cautious folk, and in reply to such rounda- 
 bout hints immediately assume a decrepit, lan- 
 guid mien, precisely like that of a field-flower 
 whose stem has been severed by the scjrthe; sev- 
 eral of them, however, laugh cheerfully and 
 boldly in your face, as though they appreciate 
 your innocent jest. LitvinofF, to his own mortifi- 
 cation, even tried his luck at roulette, even oh, 
 the ignominy! placed a thaler on thirty num- 
 bers, corresponding to the number of his years. 
 He did this with a view to augmenting and 
 rounding out his capital; and, in fact, if he did 
 not augment, he did round out his capital, by 
 losing the extra twenty-eight gulden. The 
 second question was, also, of no little importance : 
 A passport. But a passport is not so obligatory 
 for a woman, and there are countries where it is 
 not required at all. Belgium, for example, or 
 England; and, in conclusion, a passport which 
 was not Russian might be obtained. Litvinoff 
 
 271
 
 SMOKE 
 
 reflected very seriously on all these things. His 
 resolution was strong, without the slightest trace 
 of wavering ; but in the meantime, contrary to his 
 will, against his will, something the reverse of 
 serious, something almost comic, passed through, 
 leaked through his meditations, as though his 
 enterprise itself were a matter of jest, and no one 
 had ever eloped with any one in reality, but only 
 in comedies and romances, and, possibly, some- 
 where in the provincial tracts, in some Tchukhlom 
 or Syzran district, where, according to the state- 
 ment of one traveller, people even vomit with 
 tedium at times. At this point it recurred to 
 Litvinoff's memory how one of his friends, cor- 
 net Batzoff , on the retired list, had carried off 
 a merchant's daughter in a post-sledge with 
 sleigh-bells, having preliminarily got her parents, 
 and even the bride herself, intoxicated, and how 
 it had afterward turned out that he had been 
 cheated, and almost killed outright, to boot. 
 Litvmoff waxed extremely wroth with himself 
 
 mi 
 
 for such inappropriate recollections, and then, 
 recalling Tatyana, her sudden departure, all that 
 woe and suffering and shame, he became but 
 too profoundly conscious that the deed which he 
 was contemplating was of anything but a face- 
 tious nature, and that he had been in the right 
 when he had said to Irina that no other issue was 
 left, for his own honour's sake. . . And again, at 
 this mere name, something burning momentarily 
 
 272
 
 SMOKE 
 
 enveloped him with a sweet anguish, then died 
 away around his heart. 
 
 The trampling of a horse's hoofs resounded he- 
 hind him. . . He stepped aside . . Irina had over- 
 taken him on horseback ; by her side rode the fat 
 general. She recognised Litvinoff, nodded her 
 head to him, and giving her horse a blow on the 
 withers with her whip, started it into a gallop, 
 then suddenly urged it onward at full speed. Her 
 dark veil floated in the wind. . . 
 
 " Pas si vite! Nom de Dieu! pas si vite! " 
 shouted the general, and galloped after her. 
 
 273
 
 XXV 
 
 ON the following morning, Litvinoff had just 
 returned home from his bankers, with whom he 
 had had another conference about the playful 
 unsteadiness of our rate of exchange, and the best 
 method of sending money abroad, when the door- 
 porter handed him a letter. He recognised 
 Irma's handwriting, and without breaking the 
 seal an evil premonition awoke in him, God only 
 knows why he went off to his own room. This 
 is what he read (the letter was written in French) : 
 
 " MY DEAREST ! I have been thinking all night about 
 thy proposition. . . I will not deceive thee. Thou hast 
 been frank with me, and I will be frank: I cannot elope 
 with thee, I have not the strength to do it. I feel how 
 culpable I am toward thee; my second fault is greater 
 than the first I despise myself, my cowardice; I over- 
 whelm myself with reproaches, but I cannot change 
 myself. In vain do I demonstrate to myself that I 
 have ruined thy happiness, that thou now hast a right 
 to regard me merely as a frivolous coquette, that I 
 offered myself, that I myself gave thee a solemn prom- 
 ise. . . I am horrified ; I feel hatred toward myself, but 
 I cannot act otherwise I cannot, I cannot. I do not 
 seek to justify myself; I will not tell thee that I myself 
 
 274
 
 SMOKE 
 
 was carried away .... all that signifies nothing; but 
 I do wish to tell thee, and to repeat it, and repeat it 
 yet again: I am thine, thine forever, do with me as 
 thou wilt, when thou wilt: without resistance or calcu- 
 lation, I am thine. . . But flee, abandon everything. 
 . . no ! no ! no ! I entreated thee to save me. I myself 
 hoped to obliterate everything, to consume everything, 
 as in the fire . . . but evidently, there is no salvation 
 for me; evidently, the poison has penetrated too deeply 
 within me; evidently, it is not possible to breathe this 
 atmosphere for a space of many years with impunity ! 
 I have wavered long whether I ought to write thee this 
 letter; it is terrible to me to reflect what decision thou 
 wilt arrive at; I trust only in thy love for me. But I 
 have considered that it would be dishonest on my part 
 not to tell thee the truth the more so as thou hast, per- 
 haps, already begun to take the first measures for the 
 accomplishment of our intention. Akh! it was very 
 beautiful, but impossible of fulfilment ! Oh, my friend, 
 regard me as a weak, frivolous woman; despise me, but 
 do not desert me, do not desert thy Irina ! . . . I have 
 not the strength to abandon this society, but neither 
 can I live in it without thee. We shall soon return 
 to Petersburg; do thou come thither; dwell there; we 
 will find occupation for thee; thy past labours shall 
 not be wasted; thou shalt find a profitable application 
 for them . . . only live near me, only love me as I 
 am, with all my weaknesses and vices, and understand 
 fully that no one's heart will ever be so tenderly devoted 
 to thee as the heart of thy Irina. Come quickly to 
 me; I shall not have a minute's peace until I see thee. 
 
 " Thine, thine, thine, I." 
 
 275
 
 SMOKE 
 
 The blood beat like a hammer in Litvinoff 's 
 head, and then slowly and heavily retreated to 
 his heart, and became as cold within him as a 
 stone. He read over Irina's letter, and, as on 
 that other occasion in Moscow, fell fainting on 
 the divan, and remained there motionless. A 
 dark abyss had suddenly surrounded him on all 
 sides, and he stared despairingly, bereft of 
 reason, into the gloom. Thus, once more 
 betrayal, or no, worse than betrayal a lie and 
 trivialities. . . And life was shattered ; everything 
 had been torn up by the roots, utterly, and the 
 only thing to which he might have clung that 
 last support was shattered into fragments also! 
 " Follow us to Petersburg," he repeated with 
 a bitter, inward laugh: " we will find occupation 
 for thee there " . . . " Will, they promote me to 
 be head clerk of a department, I wonder? And 
 who is we? That is where her past spoke out! 
 There lies the secret, repulsive thing, which I do 
 not know, but which she would like to obliterate, 
 and burn as in the fire! That is that world of 
 intrigues, of secret relations, of scandals of Byel- 
 skys and Dolskys. . . And what a future! 
 what a splendid role awaits me! To live near 
 her, to visit her, to share with her the vicious mel- 
 ancholy of a fashionable lady whom society op- 
 presses and bores, though she cannot exist outside 
 its circle, to be her domestic friend, and, of course, 
 the friend of His Excellency also . . . until . . . 
 
 276
 
 SMOKE 
 
 until her whim is past, and the plebeian friend 
 loses his piquancy, and that same fat general or 
 Mr. Fmikoff replaces him, that is both possible 
 and agreeable, and, if you like, profitable . . . 
 she speaks of a profitable application of my 
 talents? but that design is impossible of realisa- 
 tion, impossible of realisation! ..." In Litvi- 
 noff's soul there arose something in the nature 
 of the momentary gusts of wind which precede a 
 thunderstorm sudden, wild outbursts. . . Every 
 expression in Irma's letter aroused his indigna- 
 tion; the very assurances as to the immutability 
 of her feelings affronted him. " Things can- 
 not remain like this," he exclaimed at last, " I 
 will not permit her to play so pitilessly with my 
 life. . ." 
 
 LitvinofF sprang up, seized his hat. But what 
 was there to be done? Fly to her? Reply to 
 her letter? He halted, and his arms sank by his 
 sides. 
 
 Yes: what was there to be done? 
 
 Had he not himself proposed to her that fatal 
 choice? It had not turned out as he had wished. . , 
 every choice is subject to that misfortune. She 
 had changed her decision, it is true; she herself 
 had been the first to declare that she would 
 abandon everything and follow him that was 
 true also. But neither did she deny her guilt, she 
 called herself, in plain terms, a weak woman ; she 
 had not meant to deceive him, she had been de- 
 
 277
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ceived in herself What retort was there 
 
 to make? At all events, she was not dissimulat- 
 ing, not dealing doubly with him . . . she was 
 frank with him, pitilessly frank. Nothing had 
 forced her to state her intentions on the spot, 
 nothing had prevented her soothing him with 
 promises, putting off everything, leaving every- 
 thing in uncertainty, until their very departure 
 . . . her departure with her husband for Italy! 
 But she had ruined his life, she had ruined two 
 lives! . . . Was not that enough? 
 
 But toward Tatyana she was not to blame; 
 he was to blame, he alone, Litvinoff, and he 
 had no right to shake off from himself the 
 responsibility for that which his fault had 
 imposed, like an iron yoke, upon him. . . . 
 All that was so; but what remained to be done 
 now? 
 
 Again he flung himself on the divan, and 
 again, darkly, leaving no trace, with devouring 
 swiftness . . . the moments flitted past. . . 
 
 " And why not obey her? "flashed through 
 his mind. " She loves me, she is mine and in 
 our very attraction for each other, in that pas- 
 sion which, after the lapse of so many years, has 
 broken out and made its way forth to the sur- 
 face with such violence, is there not something 
 inevitable, irresistible as the law of nature? Live 
 in Petersburg . . . but shall I be the first man 
 who finds himself in such a position? Yes, and 
 
 278
 
 SMOKE 
 
 where could she and I have found a refuge? . . ." 
 And he fell into thought, and the image of 
 Irina, in that aspect in which it had forever im- 
 printed itself on his most recent recollections, 
 softly presented itself before him. . . . 
 
 But not for long. . . He recovered himself, and 
 with a fresh outburst of indignation, he thrust 
 away from him both those recollections, and that 
 enchanting image. 
 
 ' Thou art giving me to drink of that golden 
 cup," he exclaimed, " but there is poison in 
 thy beverage, and thy white wings are soiled 
 with filth. . . Away! To remain here with thee, 
 after having . . . driven away, driven away my 
 betrothed bride . . . would be a dishonourable, a 
 dishonourable act ! " He clenched his fists bit- 
 terly, and another face, with the imprint of 
 suffering and set features, with speechless re- 
 proach in the farewell glance, surged up from 
 the depths. . . 
 
 And for a long time Litvinoff tormented 
 himself in this manner; for a long time, like a 
 critically sick man, his tortured thoughts tossed 
 from side to side. . . At last he calmed down ; at 
 last he reached a decision. From the very first 
 moment he had foreseen what that decision 
 would be ... it presented itself to him, at first, 
 as a remote, barely-perceptible spot in the midst 
 of the whirlwind and the gloom of his internal 
 conflict ; then it began to come nearer and nearer, 
 
 279
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and ended by cutting into his heart with a cold, 
 sharp blade. 
 
 Again LitvinofF dragged his trunk forth from 
 the corner; again, without haste, and even with 
 a certain dull carefulness, he packed all his 
 things, rang for a servant, paid his bill, and 
 despatched a note in Russian, to Irina, which 
 ran as follows: 
 
 "I do not know whether you are more to blame with 
 respect to me now than you were in days gone by ; but I 
 do know that the present blow is much the stronger. . . 
 This is the end. You say to me : 'I cannot ' ; and I 
 repeat the same to you : I cannot ... do what you wish. 
 I cannot, and I will not. Do not answer me. You 
 are not in a position to give me the only answer which I 
 would accept. I am going away to-morrow, early, by the 
 first train. Farewell; may you be happy. . . Probably 
 we shall not meet again." 
 
 LitvinofF did not leave his room until night- 
 fall; God knows whether he was expecting any- 
 thing! About seven o'clock in the evening, a 
 lady in a black mantle, with a veil over her face, 
 walked twice past the entrance of his hotel. 
 After stepping a little to one side, and casting 
 a glance at some point in the distance, she sud- 
 denly made a decisive movement, and for the 
 third time directed her steps toward the en- 
 trance. . . 
 
 280
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' Whither are you going, Irina Pavlovna? " 
 rang out a constrained voice behind her. 
 
 She turned round with convulsive swiftness. . 
 Potiigin rushed up to her. 
 
 She halted, reflected, and fairly flung herself 
 at him, thrust her arm in his, and drew him 
 aside. 
 
 ' Take me away, take me away," she kept 
 repeating, panting. 
 
 ' What is the matter with you, Irina Pav- 
 lovna? " he murmured, in amazement. 
 
 ' Take me away," she repeated with re- 
 doubled force," if you do not wish to have me 
 remain forever .... there! " 
 
 Potugin bowed his head submissively, and 
 both walked rapidly away. 
 
 Early on the following morning Litvinoff 
 was entirely ready for his journey, when there 
 came into his room . . . that same Potugin. 
 
 He silently approached him, and silently 
 shook his hand. Litvinoff, also, said nothing. 
 Both wore long faces, and both endeavoured in 
 vain to smile. 
 
 " I have come to wish you a prosperous jour- 
 ney," Potugin said, at last. 
 
 " And how did you know that I was going 
 away to-day? " inquired Litvinoff. 
 
 Potugin gazed around him, on the floor. . . 
 
 ' It became known to me ... as you see. Our 
 
 last conversation finally took such a strange turn. 
 
 281
 
 SMOKE 
 
 . . I did not wish to part from you without ex- 
 pressing to you my sincere sympathy." 
 
 " Do you sympathise with me now, when I 
 am going away? " 
 
 Potugin gazed mournfully at Litvmoff. 
 " Ekh, Grigory Mikhailitch, Grigory Mikhai- 
 litch," he began, with a short sigh, " we are 
 in no frame of mind for that now, we are in no 
 mood for subtleties and disputes. Here you are, 
 so far as I am able to judge, decidedly indifferent 
 to our national literature, and therefore, perhaps, 
 you have no conception of Vaska Buslaeff ? " 
 
 " Of whom? " 
 
 " Of Vaska BuslaefF, the dashing hero of 
 Novgorod ... in the Collection of Kirsha 
 Danileff." 
 
 " What Buslaeff? "ejaculated Litvmoff, 
 somewhat dazed by the sudden turn which the 
 conversation had taken. " I don't know." 
 
 " Well, no matter. See here, this is what I 
 wished to call to your attention. Vaska Bus- 
 laeff, after he has dragged his Novgorodians 
 off to Jerusalem on a pilgrimage, and there, to 
 their horror, has bathed naked in the holy river 
 Jordan, for he believed ' neither in bell-clang, 
 nor in dream, nor in the croaking of birds,' - 
 that logical Vaska Buslaeff ascends Mount 
 Tabor, and on the crest of that mountain, lies 
 a huge stone, across which all sorts of people 
 have tried, in vain, to leap. . . . Vaska wishes to 
 
 282
 
 SMOKE 
 
 try his luck also. And on his way up the 
 mountain he encounters a skull, human bones; 
 he kicks it. Well, and the head says to him: 
 ' Why dost thou kick? I have known how to 
 live; I know also how to wallow in the dust 
 and the same thing shall happen unto thee.* * 
 And in fact Vaska leaps across the stone, and 
 would have got clear over had not he caught his 
 heel, and cracked his skull. And here I must 
 remark, by the way, that it would not be a bad 
 thing if my friends, the Slavyanophils, who are 
 great hands at kicking all sorts of death's-heads 
 and rotten folks, would ponder over this epic 
 song." 
 
 " But what is your object in saying all this? " 
 interrupted Litvmoff impatiently at last. 
 " I must go, excuse me. . . ." 
 
 " My object is," replied Potugin, and his 
 eyes beamed with a friendly feeling which Litvi- 
 noff had never expected from him," to keep 
 you from repulsing the dead human skull; and 
 perchance, in return for your goodness, you will 
 succeed in leaping across the fatal stone. I will 
 not detain you any longer, only you must permit 
 me to embrace you in farewell." 
 
 " I shall not even attempt to leap across," 
 said Litvinoff , as he exchanged the threefold kiss 
 with Potugin. And to the sorrowful emotion, 
 
 1 The version which I have given, " Vasily Buslaevitch," in " The 
 Epic Songs of Russia " (Charles Scribner's Sons), is from a slightly 
 different original to the one here quoted. TRANSLATOR. 
 
 283
 
 SMOKE 
 
 which filled his soul to overflowing, there was 
 added, for an instant, compassion for another 
 poor wretch. But he must go, he must go. . . 
 He flung himself about the room. 
 
 " I will carry something for you, if you like." 
 Potiigin offered his services. 
 
 "No, thanks, don't trouble yourself; I will 
 manage alone. . . ." He put on his hat, took his 
 bag in his hand." So you say," he inquired, 
 as he was standing on the threshold," that you 
 have seen her? " 
 
 * Yes, I have seen her." 
 
 " Well . . and what of her? " 
 
 Potugin made no answer for a while." She 
 expected you last night. . . and will expect you 
 to-day." 
 
 "Ah! Well, then tell her. . . No, it is not 
 necessary, nothing is necessary. Farewell, . . . 
 Farewell!" 
 
 " Farewell, Grigory Mikhailitch. . . . Let me 
 say one word more to you. You will have time 
 to hear me out : the train does not leave for half 
 an hour yet. You are returning to Russia. . . 
 You will ... in course of time . . . become active 
 there. . . Permit an old failure for I, alas! am a 
 failure, and nothing else to give you a parting 
 bit of advice. On every occasion, when you are 
 obliged to enter upon an undertaking, ask your- 
 self: are you serving civilisation, in the exact 
 and strict sense of the word, are you furthering 
 
 284
 
 SMOKE 
 
 one of its ideas ; is your labour of that pedagog- 
 ical, European character, which alone is profita- 
 ble and fruitful in our day, in our country? If 
 so advance boldly: you are on the right road, 
 and your affair is an honourable one! Glory to 
 God! You are not alone now. You will not be 
 * a sower of the desert ' : hard workers .... 
 pioneers . . . have already sprung up among us. 
 . . But you do not care to hear about that now. 
 Good-bye, do not forget me!" 
 
 Litvinoff descended the stairs at a run, flung 
 himself into a carriage, and drove to the railway 
 station, without casting a single glance at the 
 tow r n where so much of his own life was being 
 left behind. . . He seemed to be yielding to a bil- 
 low: it seized him, swept him onward, and he 
 firmly resolved not to resist its impulse ... he re- 
 nounced every other manifestation of will. 
 
 He was already entering the railway carriage. 
 
 " Grigory Mikhailovitch . . . Grigory . . ." he 
 heard a beseeching whisper behind him. He 
 shuddered. . . Could it be Irina? Exactly that: 
 it was she. Wrapped in her maid's shawl, with a 
 travelling hat on her unkempt locks, she was 
 standing on the platform and gazing at him with 
 dimmed eyes. '* Turn back, turn back, T have 
 come for thee ! " said those eyes. And what, 
 what all, did not they promise! She did not 
 move; she had not the strength to add a single 
 word ; everything about her, even the disorder of 
 
 285
 
 SMOKE 
 
 her garments, everything seemed to be entreating 
 mercy. . . . 
 
 Litvinoff could hardly stand on his feet, could 
 hardly refrain from rushing to her. . . . But the 
 wave to which he had yielded himself asserted its 
 power. . . He sprang into the carriage, and, 
 turning round, he motioned Irina to a place 
 beside him. She understood him. The time was 
 not past. Only one step, one movement, and two 
 lives forever united would have sped forth into 
 the unknown distance. . . While she hesitated a 
 loud whistle rang out, and the train started. 
 
 Litvmoff flung himself back, and Irina 
 walked tottering to a bench and sank down upon 
 it, to the extreme amazement of an ex-diplomat 
 who had accidentally wandered into the station. 
 He was only slightly acquainted with Irina, but 
 took a great interest in her, and perceiving that 
 she was lying as though unconscious, he thought 
 that she had had " une attaque de nerfs" and 
 consequently regarded it as his duty, the duty 
 d'un galant chevalier, to go to her assistance. But 
 his amazement assumed far greater proportions 
 when, at the first word he addressed to her, she 
 suddenly rose, repulsed the offered arm, and, 
 rushing forth into the street, in a few moments 
 vanished in the milky cloud of mist, which is 
 so characteristic of the Black Forest climate in 
 the early days of autumn. 
 
 286
 
 XXVI 
 
 WE once chanced to enter the cottage of a peas- 
 ant woman who had just lost her only, fervently- 
 loved son, and to our no small surprise, we 
 found her entirely composed, almost cheerful. 
 "Let her alone!" said her husband, whom this 
 surprise did not escape: "she is hardened just 
 now." In the same way Litvinoff "was har- 
 dened." The same sort of composure came upon 
 him during the first hours of his journey. Ut- 
 terly annihilated, and hopelessly unhappy, he 
 nevertheless was at rest, at rest after the tur- 
 moils and tortures of the preceding week, after 
 all the blows which, one after the other, had 
 descended upon his head. They had shaken him 
 all the more violently because he was not created 
 for such tempests. He no longer had any hope 
 of anything now, and tried not to remember 
 most of all, not to remember. He was going to 
 Russia ... he must take refuge somewhere! but 
 he no longer made any plans which personally 
 concerned himself. He did not recognise him- 
 self; he did not understand his proceedings; it 
 was exactly as though he had lost his real " I," 
 and, altogether, he felt very little interest in 
 that "I." Sometimes it seemed to him as though 
 
 287
 
 SMOKE 
 
 he were carrying his own corpse, and only the 
 bitter convulsions of an incurable spiritual mal- 
 ady, which ran through him now and then, 
 reminded him that he was still endowed with life. 
 At times it seemed incomprehensible to him how 
 a man a man! could permit a woman, love, 
 
 .... to exercise such influence over him 
 
 "A shameful weakness!" he whispered, and 
 shook out his cloak, and settled himself more 
 squarely in his seat, as much as to say, There 
 now, old things are done with, let us start on 
 something new .... A minute later, and he 
 merely smiled bitterly and felt amazed at him- 
 self. He took to gazing out of the window. 
 The day was grey and damp ; there was no rain, 
 but the fog held on, and low-lying clouds veiled 
 the sky. The wind was blowing in the contrary 
 direction to the course of the train; whitish 
 clouds of steam, now alone, now mingled with 
 other, darker clouds of smoke, swept, in an end- 
 less series, past the window beside which 
 Litvinoff sat. He began to watch the steam, 
 the smoke. Incessantly whirling, rising and 
 falling, twisting and catching at the grass, at 
 the bushes, playing pranks, as it were, lengthen- 
 ing and melting, puff followed puff .... they 
 were constantly changing, and yet remained the 
 same .... a monotonous, hurried, tiresome game ! 
 Sometimes the wind changed, the road made a 
 turn the whole mass suddenly disappeared, 
 
 288
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and immediately became visible through the op- 
 posite window; then, once more, the huge trail 
 flung itself over, and once more veiled from 
 LitvinofF the wide view of the Rhine Valley. He 
 gazed and gazed, and a strange reflection oc- 
 curred to him. . . He was alone in the carriage ; 
 there was no one to interfere with him. 
 " Smoke, smoke," he repeated several times in 
 succession; and suddenly everything appeared 
 to him to be smoke everything, his own life, 
 everything pertaining to men, especially every- 
 thing Russian. Everything is smoke and steam, 
 he thought; everything seems to be con- 
 stantly undergoing change ; everywhere there are 
 new forms, phenomenon follows phenomenon, 
 but in reality everything is exactly alike; every- 
 thing is hurrying, hastening somewhither and 
 everything vanishes without leaving a trace, with- 
 out having attained to any end whatever ; another 
 breeze has begun to blow and everything has 
 been flung to the other side, and there, again, is 
 the same incessant, agitated and useless game. 
 He recalled many things which had taken place, 
 with much sound and clatter, before his eyes 
 during the last few years . . . . smoke," he 
 murmured, " smoke "; he recalled the heated 
 disputes, shovings and shouts at Gubaryoff's, and 
 at the houses of other persons, of high and of 
 low degree, of prominent people, and of people 
 who had lagged behind, of old people and of 
 
 289
 
 SMOKE 
 
 young ..." smoke "he repeated," smoke 
 and steam " ; he recalled, in conclusion, the fa- 
 mous picnic also; and other judgments and 
 speeches of other statesmen also recurred to his 
 mind and even everything which Potugin had 
 preached . . . . " smoke, smoke, and nothing 
 more." But his own aspirations and feelings and 
 efforts and dreams? He merely waved his hand 
 in renunciation of them. 
 
 And in the meantime the train was dashing on, 
 dashing on Rastadt, Karlsruhe and Bruchsal had 
 long since been left behind; the mountains on 
 the right side of the road were retreating, re- 
 ceding into the distance, then advanced again, 
 but were not so lofty now, and were more 
 sparsely covered with forests. . . The train made 
 a sharp turn to one side and behold, there was 
 Heidelberg. The railway carriages rolled up 
 under the shed of the station; the cries of ped- 
 lars, selling every sort of thing, even Russian 
 newspapers, resounded; the travellers fidgeted 
 in their seats, emerged on the platform. But 
 LitvinofF did not leave his corner, and continued 
 to sit with bowed head. Suddenly some one 
 called him by name; he raised his eyes; Binda- 
 soff's ugly face thrust itself through the win- 
 dow, and behind him or did it only seem so to 
 him? no, it was a fact: they were all faces from 
 Baden, familiar faces: there was Madame 
 Sukhantchikoff, there was Voroshiloff, and 
 
 290
 
 SMOKE 
 
 there was Bambaeff, all of them advancing 
 toward him and Bindasoff was roaring: 
 
 " And where is Pishtchalkin ? We have been 
 waiting for him; but never mind, crawl out, 
 soaker, we 're all going to Gubaryoff 's." 
 
 ' Yes, my dear fellow, and besides, Gubaryoff 
 is waiting for us," Bambaeff confirmed his state- 
 ment, as he stepped forward:" get out." 
 
 Litvinoff would have flown into a rage had 
 it not been for that dead weight which lay upon 
 his heart. He glanced at Bindasoff, and turned 
 silently away. 
 
 " I tell you, Gubaryoff is here," cried 
 Madame Sukhantchikoff, her eyes almost start- 
 ing from their sockets. 
 
 Litvinoff did not stir. 
 
 ' Yes, listen, Litvinoff," began Bambaeff, at 
 last. " Not only is Gubaryoff here, but there is 
 a whole phalanx of the most splendid, the clev- 
 erest young men, Russians, and all are devot- 
 ing themselves to the natural sciences, all cherish 
 the most noble convictions! Do stop, on their 
 account, for goodness' sake. Here, for example, 
 is a certain . . . ekh! I Ve forgotten his name! 
 but he 's simply a genius ! " 
 
 " Come, let him alone, let him alone, Rostis- 
 laff Ardalionitch ! " interposed Madame Su- 
 khantchikoff, " let him alone! you see what sort 
 of a man he is; and all his tribe are of the same 
 sort. He has an aunt : at first I thought her a sen- 
 
 291
 
 SMOKE 
 
 sible woman, but day before yesterday I travelled 
 hither in her company she had only just arrived 
 in Baden, and lo and behold! back she flies, well, 
 sir, I travelled with her, and I began to question 
 her. . . If you will believe me, not one word 
 could I get out of the haughty creature. The 
 disgusting aristocrat!" 
 
 Poor Kapitolina Markovna an aristocrat! 
 Did she ever expect such a disgrace? 
 
 But Litvinoif still held his peace, and turned 
 away, and pulled his cap down over his eyes. At 
 last the train started. 
 
 " Come, say something by way of farewell, 
 you man of stone! "shouted Bambaeff. 
 
 " You can't go off like this! " 
 
 'Trash! simpleton! "roared out Bindasoff. 
 The carriages rolled more and more rapidly, and 
 he could revile with impunity." Miser! Mol- 
 lusc! Drunken bummer! " 
 
 Whether Bindasoff invented this last epithet 
 on the spur of the moment, or whether it had 
 reached him from other hands, at all events it 
 evidently afforded great pleasure to the ex- 
 tremely noble young men who were studying the 
 natural sciences, for a few days later it made its 
 appearance in the Russian periodical sheet, which 
 was published at that time in Heidelberg, under 
 the title: A tout venant je crache! or " If God 
 does n't desert you, the pigs won't eat you." l 2 
 
 1 "Him whom God helps, nobody can harm." TRANSLATOR. 
 2 An historical fact. 
 
 292
 
 SMOKE 
 
 But Litvinoff kept repeating his former word : 
 smoke, smoke, smoke! Here now, he thought, 
 there are now more than a hundred Russian 
 students in Heidelberg; all are studying chemis- 
 try, physics, physiology they will not even 
 listen to anything else . . . but let five or six 
 years elapse, and there will not be fifteen men 
 in the courses of those same celebrated profes- 
 sors . . . the wind will change, the smoke will 
 rush to the other side . . . smoke . . . smoke 
 . . . smoke ! * 
 
 Toward nightfall he passed Kassel. To- 
 gether with the twilight, an intolerable anguish 
 descended like a vulture upon him, and, nestling 
 in the corner of the railway carriage, he began 
 to weep. For a long time his tears flowed with- 
 out relieving his heart, but torturing him in a 
 caustic, bitter way ; and, at that same time, in one 
 of the hostelries of Kassel, on her bed, in a burn- 
 ing fever, lay Tatyana; Kapitolina Markovna 
 sat beside her. 
 
 ' Tanya," she said, " for God's sake, allow 
 me to send a telegram to Grigory Mikhailovitch ; 
 do let me, Tanya ! " 
 
 " No, aunty," she answered," it is not nec- 
 essary ; do not feel alarmed. Give me some water ; 
 this will soon pass off." 
 
 And, in fact, a week later her health mended, 
 and the two friends resumed their journey. 
 
 1 LitvinofFs presentiment was fulfilled. In 1866, there were thir- 
 teen Russian students in the summer term, and twelve in the winter 
 term, at Heidelberg.
 
 XXVII 
 
 WITHOUT halting either in Petersburg or in 
 Moscow, Litvinoff returned to his estate. He was 
 frightened when he saw his father, so greatly 
 enfeebled and aged had the latter become. The 
 old man rejoiced at the sight of his son, as much 
 as a man can rejoice whose life is drawing to a 
 close; he immediately transferred to him all his 
 affairs, which were in great confusion, and after 
 creaking on a few weeks longer, departed from 
 the arena of earth. Litvinoff was left alone in 
 his ancient wing of the manor-house, and with a 
 heavy heart, without hope, without zeal and 
 without money, he began to farm the estate. 
 Farming an estate in Russia is a cheerless affair, 
 only too well known to many persons ; we will not 
 enlarge on the point of how bitter it seemed to 
 Litvinoff. As a matter of course, there could be 
 no question of reforms and innovations; the ap- 
 plication of the knowledge which he had acquired 
 abroad was deferred for an indefinite period; 
 want compelled him to worry on from day to day, 
 to consent to all sorts of compromises, both ma- 
 terial and moral. New ideas won their way 
 badly, old ones had lost their force; the ignorant 
 clashed with the dishonest; his whole deranged
 
 SMOKE 
 
 existence was in constant motion, like a quaking 
 bog, and only the great word " liberty " moved, 
 like the spirit of God, over the waters. Patience 
 was required, first of all, and not passive but 
 active, persistent patience, not devoid, at times, 
 of tact, not devoid of guile .... which Litvinoff, 
 in his actual spiritual state, found doubly diffi- 
 cult. He had very little desire left to live. . . 
 Whence could he summon a desire to bestir him- 
 self and work? 
 
 But a year passed, then a second, the third was 
 beginning. The grand thought was gradually 
 being realised, was being transformed into flesh 
 and blood: a sprout was putting forth from the 
 seed that had been sown; and its enemies, either 
 open or secret, could no longer trample it under 
 foot. Litvinoff himself, although he had ended 
 by giving up the greater part of his land to the 
 peasants, on the rotation-of -crops system, that 
 is to say, had returned to the wretched, primi- 
 tive methods of farming, yet had some suc- 
 cess: he re-established the factory, set up a tiny 
 farm with five hired labourers, he had as many 
 as forty, at different times, paid off the prin- 
 cipal part of the debts. . . And his spirit grew 
 firm within him; again he began to resemble the 
 Litvinoff of former days. The painful, deeply- 
 concealed feeling, it is true, never left him, and 
 he had grown sedate beyond his years, had 
 shut himself up in his narrow circle, had broken 
 
 295
 
 SMOKE 
 
 off all his previous connections .... but the 
 deathlike indifference had vanished, and again he 
 moved about among the living, and behaved like 
 a living man. The last traces of the witchery 
 which had taken possession of him had vanished 
 also : everything which had taken place at Baden 
 presented itself to him as in a dream. . And 
 Irina? She, also, had paled and disappeared, 
 and it was only in a confused way that Litvinoff 
 was conscious of something terrible beneath the 
 mist in which her image had gradually become 
 enveloped. News of Tatyana reached him from 
 time to time ; he knew that she and her aunt had 
 settled on her little estate, about two hundred 
 versts from him, were living quietly and receiv- 
 ing hardly any guests, and, for the rest, were 
 composed and well. But one day, one beautiful 
 May day, he was sitting in his study, and in- 
 differently turning over the leaves of the last 
 number of a Petersburg journal: a servant 
 entered and announced the arrival of his aged 
 uncle. This uncle was the first cousin of Kapi- 
 tolina Markovna, and had recently visited her. 
 He had purchased an estate in Litvfnoff's 
 neighbourhood, and was on his way thither. He 
 spent a whole day with his nephew, and told him 
 a great deal about Tatyana's manner of life. On 
 the day after his departure, Litvinoff sent her a 
 letter, the first since their parting. He requested 
 permission to renew the acquaintance, by letter 
 
 296
 
 SMOKE 
 
 at least, and also desired to know whether he 
 must forever abandon the thought of seeing her 
 some day? Not without agitation did he await 
 the reply . . . and a reply arrived at last. Tatyana 
 made a friendly response to his question. " If 
 you should take a fancy to visit us," she said in 
 conclusion, " come, we shall be glad to see you: 
 they say that weak people feel more comfortable 
 together than apart." Kapitolina Markovna 
 sent her compliments. Litvinoff was as happy 
 as a child ; his heart had not beaten so cheerfully 
 for a long time. And he suddenly felt relieved 
 and bright. . . Exactly as when the sun rises and 
 drives away the shades of night, a light zephyr 
 flits with the sun's rays over the face of the 
 reviving earth. All that day Litvinoff did noth- 
 ing but smile, even when he made the rounds of 
 his farm and issued his orders. He immediately 
 began to make preparations for the journey, 
 and two weeks later he set off to Tatyana. 
 
 297
 
 XXVIII 
 
 HE travelled rather slowly along the country 
 roads, without any particular adventures: only 
 once the tire on one of the hind wheels broke; a 
 blacksmith welded and welded it, cursed it and 
 himself, and then threw up the job; luckily, it 
 turned out that one can travel very well indeed 
 in our country even with a broken tire, especially 
 on a " soft " road, that is to say, in the mud. On 
 the other hand, LitvinofF had two or three de- 
 cidedly curious encounters. At one posting- 
 station he found a meeting of justices of the 
 peace, and among their number, Pishtchalkin, 
 who produced upon him the impression of being 
 a Solon or a Solomon: such lofty wisdom did his 
 speech breathe forth, with such unbounded re- 
 spect did both landed proprietors and peasants 
 bear themselves toward him : . . . and in his ap- 
 pearance, also, Pishtchalkin had begun to resem- 
 ble a sage of olden days: his hair had receded 
 from his temples, and his face, which had grown 
 fuller, had become completely petrified into a sort 
 of majestic jelly of virtue unhampered by any- 
 thing whatsoever. He congratulated Litvinoff on 
 his arrival " in my own district if I may make 
 so bold as to use so ambitious an expression," 
 
 298
 
 SMOKE 
 
 and thereupon, instantly sank into a paroxysm of 
 well-intentioned emotions. But he did succeed 
 in imparting one piece of news, namely, con- 
 cerning Voroshiloff. That paladin of the gilded 
 classes had again entered the military service, 
 and had already managed to deliver a lecture to 
 the officers of his regiment on " Buddhism," or 
 
 " dynamism," or something of that sort 
 
 Pishtchalkin could not remember exactly what. 
 At the next posting-station they did not harness 
 LitvinofF's horses for a long time; the affair 
 happened at daybreak, and he was dozing as 
 he sat in his calash. A voice which struck him 
 as familiar awakened him : he opened his eyes. . . 
 
 Heavens! was it not Mr. Gubaryoff who was 
 standing there in a grey round jacket and flap- 
 ping sleeping-trousers, and swearing, on the 
 porch of the posting-cottage? . . . No, it was not 
 Mr. Gubaryoff. . . But what a startling resem- 
 blance ! . . . . Only, this gentleman's mouth was 
 wider and fuller of teeth, and the gaze of his 
 dismal eyes was still fiercer, his nose was bigger, 
 and his beard thicker, and his whole aspect was 
 heavier and more repulsive. 
 
 "The sca-aoundrels, the sca-aoundrels I " he 
 was repeating, slowly and viciously stretching 
 his wolfish mouth very wide: "the damned 
 
 peasantry. . . . Here you see it this 
 
 lauded liberty .... and you can't get any 
 horses . . . the sca-aoundrels!" 
 
 299
 
 SMOKE 
 
 'The sca-aoundrels, the sca-aoundrels 1 " 
 another voice here made itself heard inside the 
 house, and on the porch there presented himself, 
 also in a grey round jacket and flapping sleep- 
 ing-trousers, presented himself, this time actu- 
 ally and indubitably, the genuine Mr. Guba- 
 ryoff himself, Stepan Nikolaevitch Gubaryoff. 
 "The damned peasantry! "he continued, in 
 imitation of his brother (it appeared that the 
 first gentleman was his elder brother, the 
 " Danteist " l of the old school, who managed his 
 estate.) " They ought to be flogged, that 's what 
 they ought ; flogged on their snouts, that 's the 
 sort of liberty they need flogged on their teeth. 
 
 . . They talk about . . . forsooth, about the 
 
 mayor of the district! ... I '11 give it to them! 
 . . . Yes, and where 's that M'sieu' Roston? . . . 
 What does he superintend? ... It 's his busi- 
 ness, the cursed sluggard . . . not to reduce one 
 to anxiety " 
 
 " But I have repeatedly told you, brother," - 
 put in the elder Gubaryoff, " that he was 
 not fit for anything, a regular sluggard! Only 
 you, for old acquaintance' sake. . . . M'sieu' 
 Roston, M'sieu' Roston! .... What has be- 
 come of you? " 
 
 "Roston! Roston I "shouted the younger, 
 the great Gubaryoff. " Come, brother Dore- 
 medont Nikolaitch, call him well! " 
 
 * A term applied to cruel serf-owners. TRANSLATOR 
 
 300
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' That 's precisely what I am doing, brother 
 Stepan Nikolaitch. Monsieur Roston!" 
 
 " Here I am, here I am, here I am! "a 
 precipitate voice made itself heard, and from 
 round the corner of the cottage sprang forth 
 BambaefF. 
 
 Litvinoff fairly cried aloud in amazement. On 
 the ill-starred enthusiast mournfully dangled a 
 hussar jacket abbreviated by wear, with rents in 
 the sleeves ; his features were not so much altered 
 as pinched and wizened; his extremely uneasy 
 little eyes expressed slavish terror and hungry 
 subserviency ; but his dyed moustache bristled up 
 above his full lips as of old. The Gubaryoff 
 brothers set to work instantly and simultaneously 
 to berate him from the elevation of the porch; 
 he halted in front of them, below, in the mud, 
 and, with his back meekly bowed, endeavoured 
 to placate them with a timid smile, crumpling 
 his cap in his red fingers, shifting from one 
 foot to the other, and muttering that the horses 
 would make their appearance immediately. . . 
 But the brothers did not cease, until the younger, 
 at last, let his eyes fall on Litvinoff. Whether 
 he recognised him, whether he felt ashamed in 
 the presence of a stranger, at all events, he sud- 
 denly turned on his heel, in bear-like fashion, 
 and, gnawing his beard, hobbled into the posting- 
 cottage; his brother instantly became mute, and 
 turning round, in bear-like fashion also, followed 
 
 301
 
 SMOKE 
 
 in his footsteps. The great Gubaryoff, evi- 
 dently, had not lost his influence in his own coun- 
 try either. 
 
 Bambaeff was on the point of following 
 softly after the brothers. . . Litvinoff called him 
 by name. He glanced round, took another look, 
 and, recognising Litvinoff, fairly precipitated 
 himself at him, with outstretched arms ; but when 
 he had rushed up to the carriage, and grasped 
 the door, he fell against it with his breast and 
 burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 " Stop, do stop, Bambaeff," Litvinoff said 
 again and again, bending over him and touching 
 him on the shoulder. 
 
 But he continued to sob." This .... this .... 
 this is what I have come to ..." he murmured, 
 sobbing. 
 
 "Bambaeff!" thundered the brothers inside 
 the cottage. 
 
 Bambaeff raised his head and hastily wiped 
 away his tears. 
 
 " Good morning, my dear fellow," he whis- 
 pered," good morning and good-bye! .... 
 you hear, they are calling me." 
 
 " But how in the world do you come to be 
 here? "inquired Litvinoff: "and what is the 
 meaning of all this? I thought they called you 
 a Frenchman. . ." 
 
 " I am their . . . their house-steward, their 
 butler," replied Bambaeff, and jerked his 
 
 302
 
 SMOKE 
 
 linger in the direction of the cottage." And I 
 came to be a Frenchman by chance, by way of a 
 jest. What can a man do, brother? When there 
 is nothing to eat, you see, and you have spent 
 your last penny, you put your neck into the 
 nooge, willy-nilly. You don't feel like being am- 
 bitious." 
 
 " But has he been long in Russia? And how 
 did he part from his former comrades?" 
 
 "Ekh, brother! All that is over now. . . The 
 weather has changed, you know. . . . He simply 
 pitched Madame Sukhantchikoff, Matryona 
 Kuzmmitchna, out, neck and crop. She went off 
 to Portugal, out of grief." 
 
 " Went to Portugal? What nonsense is 
 this?" 
 
 ' Yes, brother, to Portugal, with two Matryo- 
 novtzys." 
 
 "With whom?" 
 
 'With the Matryonovtzys : that's what the 
 adherents of her faction are called." 
 
 " Has Matryona Kuzmmitchna a faction, and 
 is it numerous? " 
 
 ' Why, it consists of just those two men. But 
 lie returned here nearly six months ago. Then 
 others got into trouble, but ke 's all right. He 
 lives in the country with his brother, and you 
 just ought to hear now . . . ." 
 
 "Bambaeff!" 
 
 " Immediately, Stepan Nikolaitch, immedi- 
 303
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ately. But thou, my dear fellow, art blooming, 
 thou art enjoying thyself! Well, God be 
 thanked! Where art thou bound for now? 
 Why, I never thought, I never foresaw that. . . . 
 Dost thou remember Baden? Ekh, that was 
 living! By the way, dost thou remember Binda- 
 soff also? Just imagine, he is dead. He ob- 
 tained a position in the excise office, and got into 
 a fight in a dram-shop; and they smashed his 
 skull with a billiard-cue. Yes, yes, hard times 
 have come upon us! But I still say: Russia, 
 what a land this Russia is! Look even at that 
 pair of geese: surely, in all Europe, there is 
 nothing like them ! Real Arzamas fowls ! " 
 
 And after paying this parting tribute to his 
 ineradicable necessity to go into raptures, Bam- 
 baeff ran into the station-cottage, where his name 
 was again being uttered, not without a few em- 
 phatic epithets. 
 
 Toward the end of that day, Litvinoff drove 
 up to Tatyana's village. The little house, where- 
 in dwelt his former betrothed, stood on a hill, 
 above a small river, in the centre of a garden 
 which had been newly laid out. The little house 
 was new also, only just built, and was visible 
 from afar, across river and meadow. It revealed 
 itself to Litvinoff at a distance of two versts 
 with its pointed partial upper story and row 
 of windows, which gleamed brightly in the rays 
 of the evening sun. From the time he quitted the 
 
 804
 
 SMOKE 
 
 last station, he had begun to experience a secret 
 agitation; but at this point downright consterna- 
 tion seized upon him, joyous consternation, not 
 unmingled with a certain alarm. " How will they 
 receive me? " he thought," how shall I pre- 
 sent myself? "... In order to divert his thoughts 
 somewhat he began to chat with the postilion, a 
 peasant of the steppes, with a grey beard, but 
 who had charged him for thirty versts, when, in 
 reality, the distance was not twenty-five. He 
 asked him : Did he know the Shestoff ladies ? 
 
 ' The Shestoffs, do you mean? Of course I 
 know them ! Kind ladies they are, there 's no 
 denying that! And they heal us poor folks too. 
 I 'm telling you the truth. Regular women doc- 
 tors! Folks go to them from the whole county. 
 That 's so. They just crawl there in hordes. No 
 sooner does any one fall ill, or cut himself, or 
 anything else, than he immediately hastens to 
 them, and they immediately apply a fomenta- 
 tion, or powders, or a plaster, and that 's the end 
 of it: it helps. But don't dare to offer gifts of 
 gratitude; we don't consent to that, say they; we 
 don't do it for money. They Ve set up a school, 
 too. . . . Well, but that does n't amount to any- 
 thing." 
 
 While the postilion was talking, LitvinofF 
 never took his eyes from the little house. . . Now 
 a woman in white came out on the balcony, stood, 
 and stood, and then vanished. ..." Can it be 
 
 305
 
 SMOKE 
 
 she? " His heart fairly leapt within him. " Fas- 
 ter! Faster!" he shouted to the postilion: the 
 latter whipped up his horses. A few moments 
 more . . . and the calash rolled in through the 
 open gates. . . And on the porch Kapitolina 
 Markovna was already standing, and, quite be- 
 side herself, was clapping her hands and scream- 
 ing: " I recognised him, I was the first to recog- 
 nise him! 'T is he! 't is he! I recognised 
 him!" 
 
 Litvinoif sprang out of the calash, without 
 giving the groom who came running up a chance 
 to open the door, and hastily embracing Kapito- 
 lina Markovna, rushed into the house, through 
 the ante-room, into the salon. . . . Before him, 
 all covered with confusion, stood Tatyana. She 
 glanced at him with her kind, aff ectionate eyes 
 (she had grown a little thinner, but it became 
 her), and offered him her hand. But he did not 
 take the hand, he fell on his knees before her. 
 She had not in the least expected this, and did 
 not know what to say, what to do. The tears 
 rushed to her eyes. She was startled, but her 
 whole countenance beamed with joy. ..." Gri- 
 gory Mikhailitch, what is this, Grigory Mikhai- 
 litch?" she said . . . but he continued to kiss 
 the hem of her garment . . . and with emotion he 
 recalled how he had lain on his knees before her, 
 
 in the same manner, at Baden But then 
 
 and now! 
 
 806
 
 SMOKE 
 
 ' Tanya," he repeated, over and over again, 
 'Tanya! hast thou forgiven me, Tanya?" 
 " Aunty, aunty, what is this? " Tatyana 
 
 appealed to Kapitolina Markovna, who entered 
 
 at the moment. 
 
 " Do not hinder him, do not hinder him, 
 
 Tanya," replied the kind old woman." Thou 
 
 seest he has confessed his wrong." 
 
 But it is time to make an ending; and besides, 
 there is nothing more to add; the reader will 
 divine the outcome for himself. . . . But what 
 of Irina? 
 
 She is just as charming as ever, in spite of 
 her thirty years. Innumerable young men fall in 
 love with her, and even more would fall in love 
 with her, if .... if .... Reader, will not you 
 consent to be transported with us, for a few mo- 
 ments, to Petersburg, to one of the most promi- 
 nent buildings there? Behold: before you lies 
 a spacious room, furnished, we will not say 
 " richly," that is too vulgar an expression, but 
 imposingly, in a stately, impressive style. Do 
 you feel a certain tremor of servility? You must 
 know: you have entered a temple, a temple con- 
 secrated to the loftiest decorum, to virtue over- 
 flowing with love in a word, to unearthly virtue. 
 A certain mysterious, actually mysterious silence 
 receives you into its embrace. The velvet por- 
 tieres, the velvet curtains at the windows, the soft, 
 
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 SMOKE 
 
 thick carpet on the floor, all seem destined and 
 designed to soothe and soften all harsh sounds 
 and violent emotions. Carefully-shaded lamps 
 inspire dignified feelings; a decorous perfume 
 is disseminated in the close atmosphere; the very 
 samovar on the table is hissing in a repressed and 
 modest way. The mistress of the house, an im- 
 portant personage in Petersburg society, is talk- 
 ing in a barely audible tone; she always speaks 
 in that way, as though there were a very critically 
 ill, almost dying person in the room. The other 
 ladies, in imitation of her, barely whisper; but 
 to-day, her sister, who is pouring tea, is moving 
 her lips with entire absence of sound, so that the 
 young man who is sitting before her, and has 
 accidentally got into the temple of decorum, is 
 even perplexed to know what she wants of him, 
 and she rustles at him, for the sixth time: 
 re Voulez vous une tasse de the? " In the corner, 
 young, good-looking men are to be seen; mild 
 deference beams in their glances; tranquilly 
 mild, although insinuating, is the expression of 
 their faces; a multitude of tokens of distinction 
 glitter mildly on their breasts. The conversation 
 which is in progress is mild also; it touches upon 
 spiritual and patriotic subjects, The Mysterious 
 Drop by F. M. Glinka, the mission to the East, 
 the monasteries and brotherhoods of White Rus- 
 sia. From time to time, treading noiselessly 
 over the soft carpet, liveried lackeys pass to and 
 
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 SMOKE 
 
 fro; their huge calves, clothed in tightly-fitting 
 silk stockings, quiver calmly at every step; the 
 respectful quiver of their stout muscles only in- 
 tensifies the general impression of magnificence, 
 benevolence, devoutness. . . It is a temple ! It is 
 a temple! 
 
 " Have you seen Madame Ratmiroff to-day? " 
 asks a personage gently. 
 
 " I met her to-day at Lise's," replies the mis- 
 tress of the house, like an seolian harp:" I feel 
 sorry for her. . . She has an embittered mind 
 .... elle n'a pas la foi" 
 
 'Yes, yes," repeats the personage;"! 
 remember that Peter Ivanitch said that of her, 
 and it was very truly said he said quelle a ... 
 qu'elle a an embittered mind." 
 
 "" Elle na pas la foi " the voice of the hostess 
 dies away in the air, like the smoke of incense. 
 
 " C'est une ame egaree. She has an embit- 
 tered mind." 
 
 " She has an embittered mind," repeats her 
 sister, with her lips alone. 
 
 And that is why all the young men, without 
 exception, do not fall in love with Irina. . . They 
 are afraid of her . . . they are afraid of her " em- 
 bittered mind." 
 
 That is the form which the current phrase 
 about her has assumed ; in that phrase, as in every 
 phrase, there is a grain of truth. And it is not 
 
 809
 
 SMOKE 
 
 the young men alone who fear her; the older 
 men, and persons of high rank, and even per- 
 sonages, fear her also. No one is capable of 
 noting so accurately and delicately the ridiculous 
 or the petty side of a character, no one possesses 
 such a gift for pitilessly branding it with an un- 
 forgettable word. . . . And that word burns all 
 the more painfully, because it proceeds from a 
 fragrant, exquisitely beautiful mouth. ... It 
 would be difficult to say what is taking place 
 within that soul; but rumour does not bestow 
 upon any one of her adorers the title of the fa- 
 voured suitor. 
 
 Irina's husband is advancing rapidly along 
 that road which the French call the road of 
 honours. The fat general is overtaking him ; the 
 condescending one is being left behind. And in 
 that same town where Irina dwells, dwells also 
 our friend, Sozont Potugin: he rarely sees her, 
 and she has no particular need for maintaining 
 relations with him. . . The little girl who was 
 intrusted to his guardianship died not long ago. 
 
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