'DM. SANIN.'
When he had folded and sealed this note, Sanin was on the point ofringing for the waiter and sending it by him.... 'No!' he thought, 'itwould be awkward.... By Emil? But to go to the shop, and seek him outthere among the other employes, would be awkward too. Besides, it'sdark by now, and he has probably left the shop.' Reflecting after thisfashion, Sanin put on his hat, however, and went into the street; heturned a corner, another, and to his unspeakable delight, saw Emilbefore him. With a satchel under his arm, and a roll of papers in hishand, the young enthusiast was hurrying home.
'They may well say every lover has a lucky star,' thought Sanin, andhe called to Emil.
The latter turned and at once rushed to him.
Sanin cut short his transports, handed him the note, and explained towhom and how he was to deliver it.... Emil listened attentively.
'So that no one sees?' he inquired, assuming an important andmysterious air, that said, 'We understand the inner meaning of itall!'
'Yes, my friend,' said Sanin and he was a little disconcerted;however, he patted Emil on the cheek.... 'And if there should be ananswer.... You will bring me the answer, won't you? I will stay athome.'
'Don't worry yourself about that!' Emil whispered gaily; he ran off,and as he ran nodded once more to him.
Sanin went back home, and without lighting a candle, flung himselfon the sofa, put his hands behind his head, and abandoned himself tothose sensations of newly conscious love, which it is no good even todescribe. One who has felt them knows their languor and sweetness; toone who has felt them not, one could never make them known.
The door opened--Emil's head appeared.
'I have brought it,' he said in a whisper: 'here it is--the answer!'
He showed and waved above his head a folded sheet of paper.
Sanin leaped up from the sofa and snatched it out of Emil's hand.Passion was working too powerfully within him: he had no thought ofreserve now, nor of the observance of a suitable demeanour--evenbefore this boy, her brother. He would have been scrupulous, he wouldhave controlled himself--if he could!
He went to the window, and by the light of a street lamp which stoodjust opposite the house, he read the following lines:--
I beg you, I beseech you--_don't come to see us, don't show yourselfall day to-morrow_. It's necessary, absolutely necessary for me,and then everything shall be settled. I know you will not say no,because ...
'GEMMA.'
Sanin read this note twice through. Oh, how touchingly sweet andbeautiful her handwriting seemed to him! He thought a little, andturning to Emil, who, wishing to give him to understand what adiscreet young person he was, was standing with his face to the wall,and scratching on it with his finger-nails, he called him aloud byname.
Emil ran at once to Sanin. 'What do you want me to do?'
'Listen, my young friend...'
'Monsieur Dimitri,' Emil interrupted in a plaintive voice, 'why do youaddress me so formally?'
Sanin laughed. 'Oh, very well. Listen, my dearest boy--(Emil gave alittle skip of delight)--listen; _there_ you understand, there, youwill say, that everything shall be done exactly as is wished--(Emilcompressed his lips and nodded solemnly)--and as for me ... what areyou doing to-morrow, my dear boy?'
'I? what am I doing? What would you like me to do?'
'If you can, come to me early in the morning--and we will walk aboutthe country round Frankfort till evening.... Would you like to?'
Emil gave another little skip. 'I say, what in the world could bejollier? Go a walk with you--why, it's simply glorious! I'll be sureto come!'
'And if they won't let you?'
'They will let me!'
'Listen ... Don't say _there_ that I asked you to come for the wholeday.'
'Why should I? But I'll get away all the same! What does it matter?'
Emil warmly kissed Sanin, and ran away.
Sanin walked up and down the room a long while, and went late to bed.He gave himself up to the same delicate and sweet sensations, the samejoyous thrill at facing a new life. Sanin was very glad that the ideahad occurred to him to invite Emil to spend the next day with him; hewas like his sister. 'He will recall her,' was his thought.
But most of all, he marvelled how he could have been yesterday otherthan he was to-day. It seemed to him that he had loved Gemma for alltime; and that he had loved her just as he loved her to-day.
XXVI
At eight o'clock next morning, Emil arrived at Sanin's hotel leadingTartaglia by a string. Had he sprung of German parentage, he couldnot have shown greater practicality. He had told a lie at home; hehad said he was going for a walk with Sanin till lunch-time, and thengoing to the shop. While Sanin was dressing, Emil began to talk tohim, rather hesitatingly, it is true, about Gemma, about her rupturewith Herr Klueber; but Sanin preserved an austere silence in reply, andEmil, looking as though he understood why so serious a matter shouldnot be touched on lightly, did not return to the subject, and onlyassumed from time to time an intense and even severe expression.
After drinking coffee, the two friends set off together--on foot,of course--to Hausen, a little village lying a short distance fromFrankfort, and surrounded by woods. The whole chain of the Taunusmountains could be seen clearly from there. The weather was lovely;the sunshine was bright and warm, but not blazing hot; a fresh windrustled briskly among the green leaves; the shadows of high, roundclouds glided swiftly and smoothly in small patches over the earth.The two young people soon got out of the town, and stepped out boldlyand gaily along the well-kept road. They reached the woods, andwandered about there a long time; then they lunched very heartily ata country inn; then climbed on to the mountains, admired the views,rolled stones down and clapped their hands, watching the queer drollway in which the stones hopped along like rabbits, till a man passingbelow, unseen by them, began abusing them in a loud ringing voice.Then they lay full length on the short dry moss of yellowish-violetcolour; then they drank beer at another inn; ran races, and tried fora wager which could jump farthest. They discovered an echo, and beganto call to it; sang songs, hallooed, wrestled, broke up dry twigs,decked their hats with fern, and even danced. Tartaglia, as far as hecould, shared in all these pastimes; he did not throw stones, it istrue, but he rolled head over heels after them; he howled when theywere singing, and even drank beer, though with evident aversionhe had been trained in this art by a student to whom he had oncebelonged. But he was not prompt in obeying Emil--not as he was withhis master Pantaleone--and when Emil ordered him to 'speak,' or to'sneeze,' he only wagged his tail and thrust out his tongue like apipe.
The young people talked, too. At the beginning of the walk, Sanin, asthe elder, and so more reflective, turned the conversation on fate andpredestination, and the nature and meaning of man's destiny; but theconversation quickly took a less serious turn. Emil began to questionhis friend and patron about Russia, how duels were fought there, andwhether the women there were beautiful, and whether one could learnRussian quickly, and what he had felt when the officer took aimat him. Sanin, on his side, questioned Emil about his father, hismother, and in general about their family affairs, trying every timenot to mention Gemma's name--and thinking only of her. To speak moreprecisely, it was not of her he was thinking, but of the morrow, themysterious morrow which was to bring him new, unknown happiness! Itwas as though a veil, a delicate, bright veil, hung faintly flutteringbefore his mental vision and behind this veil he felt ... felt thepresence of a youthful, motionless, divine image, with a tender smileon its lips, and eyelids severely--with affected seventy--downcast.And this image was not the face of Gemma, it was the face of happinessitself! For, behold, at last _his_ hour had come, the veil hadvanished, the lips were parting, the eyelashes are raised--hisdivinity has looked upon him--and at once light as from the sun,and joy and bliss unending! He dreamed of this morrow--and his soulthrilled with joy again in the melting torture of ever-growingexpectation!
And this expectation, this torture, hindered nothi
ng. It accompaniedevery action, and did not prevent anything. It did not prevent himfrom dining capitally at a third inn with Emil; and only occasionally,like a brief flash of lightning, the thought shot across him, Whatif any one in the world knew? This suspense did not prevent him fromplaying leap-frog with Emil after dinner. The game took place on anopen green lawn. And the confusion, the stupefaction of Sanin may beimagined! At the very moment when, accompanied by a sharp bark fromTartaglia, he was flying like a bird, with his legs outspread overEmil, who was bent double, he suddenly saw on the farthest border ofthe lawn two officers, in whom he recognised at once his adversary andhis second, Herr von Doenhof and Herr von Richter! Each of them hadstuck an eyeglass in his eye, and was staring at him, chuckling!...Sanin got on his feet, turned away hurriedly, put on the coat he hadflung down, jerked out a word to Emil; the latter, too, put on hisjacket, and they both immediately made off.
It was late when they got back to Frankfort. 'They'll scold me,' Emilsaid to Sanin as he said good-bye to him. 'Well, what does it matter?I've had such a splendid, splendid day!'
When he got home to his hotel, Sanin found a note there from Gemma.She fixed a meeting with him for next day, at seven o'clock in themorning, in one of the public gardens which surround Frankfort on allsides.
How his heart throbbed! How glad he was that he had obeyed her sounconditionally! And, my God, what was promised ... what was notpromised, by that unknown, unique, impossible, and undubitably certainmorrow!
He feasted his eyes on Gemma's note. The long, elegant tail of theletter G, the first letter of her name, which stood at the bottom ofthe sheet, reminded him of her lovely fingers, her hand.... He thoughtthat he had not once touched that hand with his lips.... 'Italianwomen,' he mused, 'in spite of what's said of them, are modest andsevere.... And Gemma above all! Queen ... goddess ... pure, virginalmarble....'
'But the time will come; and it is not far off....' There was thatnight in Frankfort one happy man.... He slept; but he might have saidof himself in the words of the poet:
'I sleep ... but my watchful heart sleeps not.'
And it fluttered as lightly as a butterfly flutters his wings, as hestoops over the flowers in the summer sunshine.
XXVII
At five o'clock Sanin woke up, at six he was dressed, at half-pastsix he was walking up and down the public garden within sight of thelittle arbour which Gemma had mentioned in her note. It was a still,warm, grey morning. It sometimes seemed as though it were beginningto rain; but the outstretched hand felt nothing, and only looking atone's coat-sleeve, one could see traces of tiny drops like diminutivebeads, but even these were soon gone. It seemed there had never beena breath of wind in the world. Every sound moved not, but was shedaround in the stillness. In the distance was a faint thickening ofwhitish mist; in the air there was a scent of mignonette and whiteacacia flowers.
In the streets the shops were not open yet, but there were alreadysome people walking about; occasionally a solitary carriage rumbledalong ... there was no one walking in the garden. A gardener was in aleisurely way scraping the path with a spade, and a decrepit old womanin a black woollen cloak was hobbling across the garden walk. Sanincould not for one instant mistake this poor old creature for Gemma;and yet his heart leaped, and he watched attentively the retreatingpatch of black.
Seven! chimed the clock on the tower. Sanin stood still. Was itpossible she would not come? A shiver of cold suddenly ran throughhis limbs. The same shiver came again an instant later, but from adifferent cause. Sanin heard behind him light footsteps, the lightrustle of a woman's dress.... He turned round: she!
Gemma was coming up behind him along the path. She was wearing a greycape and a small dark hat. She glanced at Sanin, turned her head away,and catching him up, passed rapidly by him.
'Gemma,' he articulated, hardly audibly.
She gave him a little nod, and continued to walk on in front. Hefollowed her.
He breathed in broken gasps. His legs shook under him.
Gemma passed by the arbour, turned to the right, passed by a smallflat fountain, in which the sparrows were splashing busily, and, goingbehind a clump of high lilacs, sank down on a bench. The place wassnug and hidden. Sanin sat down beside her.
A minute passed, and neither he nor she uttered a word. She did noteven look at him; and he gazed not at her face, but at her claspedhands, in which she held a small parasol. What was there to tell, whatwas there to say, which could compare, in importance, with the simplefact of their presence there, together, alone, so early, so close toeach other.
'You ... are not angry with me?' Sanin articulated at last.
It would have been difficult for Sanin to have said anything morefoolish than these words ... he was conscious of it himself.... But,at any rate, the silence was broken.
'Angry?' she answered. 'What for? No.'
'And you believe me?' he went on.
'In what you wrote?'
'Yes.'
Gemma's head sank, and she said nothing. The parasol slipped out ofher hands. She hastily caught it before it dropped on the path.
'Ah, believe me! believe what I wrote to you!' cried Sanin; all histimidity suddenly vanished, he spoke with heat; 'if there is truthon earth--sacred, absolute truth--it's that I love, love youpassionately, Gemma.'
She flung him a sideway, momentary glance, and again almost droppedthe parasol.
'Believe me! believe me!' he repeated. He besought her, held out hishands to her, and did not dare to touch her. 'What do you want me todo ... to convince you?'
She glanced at him again.
'Tell me, Monsieur Dimitri,' she began; 'the day before yesterday,when you came to talk to me, you did not, I imagine, know then ... didnot feel ...'
'I felt it,' Sanin broke in; 'but I did not know it. I have loved youfrom the very instant I saw you; but I did not realise at once whatyou had become to me! And besides, I heard that you were solemnlybetrothed.... As far as your mother's request is concerned--in thefirst place, how could I refuse?--and secondly, I think I carried outher request in such a way that you could guess....'
They heard a heavy tread, and a rather stout gentleman with a knapsackover his shoulder, apparently a foreigner, emerged from behind theclump, and staring, with the unceremoniousness of a tourist, at thecouple sitting on the garden-seat, gave a loud cough and went on.
'Your mother,' Sanin began, as soon as the sound of the heavyfootsteps had ceased, 'told me your breaking off your engagement wouldcause a scandal'--Gemma frowned a little--that I was myself in partresponsible for unpleasant gossip, and that ... consequently ... Iwas, to some extent, under an obligation to advise you not to breakwith your betrothed, Herr Klueber....'
'Monsieur Dimitri,' said Gemma, and she passed her hand over her hairon the side turned towards Sanin, 'don't, please, call Herr Klueber mybetrothed. I shall never be his wife. I have broken with him.'
'You have broken with him? when?'
'Yesterday.'
'You saw him?'
'Yes. At our house. He came to see us.'
'Gemma? Then you love me?'
She turned to him.
'Should ... I have come here, if not?' she whispered, and both herhands fell on the seat.
Sanin snatched those powerless, upturned palms, and pressed them tohis eyes, to his lips.... Now the veil was lifted of which he haddreamed the night before! Here was happiness, here was its radiantform!
He raised his head, and looked at Gemma, boldly and directly. She,too, looked at him, a little downwards. Her half-shut eyes faintlyglistened, dim with light, blissful tears. Her face was not smiling... no! it laughed, with a blissful, noiseless laugh.
He tried to draw her to him, but she drew back, and never ceasing tolaugh the same noiseless laugh, shook her head. 'Wait a little,' herhappy eyes seemed to say.
'O Gemma!' cried Sanin: 'I never dreamed that you would love me!'
'I did not expect this myself,' Gemma said softly.
'How could I ever have d
reamed,' Sanin went on, 'when I came toFrankfort, where I only expected to remain a few hours, that I shouldfind here the happiness of all my life!'
'All your life? Really?' queried Gemma.
'All my life, for ever and ever!' cried Sanin with fresh ardour.
The gardener's spade suddenly scraped two paces from where they weresitting.
'Let's go home,' whispered Gemma: 'we'll go together--will you?'
If she had said to him at that instant 'Throw yourself in the sea,will you?' he would have been flying headlong into the ocean beforeshe had uttered the last word.
They went together out of the garden and turned homewards, not by thestreets of the town, but through the outskirts.
XXVIII
Sanin walked along, at one time by Gemma's side, at another time alittle behind her. He never took his eyes off her and never ceasedsmiling. She seemed to hasten ... seemed to linger. As a matter offact, they both--he all pale, and she all flushed with emotion--weremoving along as in a dream. What they had done together a few instantsbefore--that surrender of each soul to another soul--was so intense,so new, and so moving; so suddenly everything in their lives had beenchanged and displaced that they could not recover themselves, and wereonly aware of a whirlwind carrying them along, like the whirlwindon that night, which had almost flung them into each other's arms.Sanin walked along, and felt that he even looked at Gemma with othereyes; he instantly noted some peculiarities in her walk, in hermovements,--and heavens! how infinitely sweet and precious they wereto him! And she felt that that was how he was looking at her.
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