'_Merci!_' Zinaida said to him. 'And so the queen hears theirspeeches, and hears the music, but does not look at one of the guests.Six windows are open from top to bottom, from floor to ceiling, andbeyond them is a dark sky with big stars, a dark garden with bigtrees. The queen gazes out into the garden. Out there among the treesis a fountain; it is white in the darkness, and rises up tall, tallas an apparition. The queen hears, through the talk and the music,the soft splash of its waters. She gazes and thinks: you are all,gentlemen, noble, clever, and rich, you crowd round me, you treasureevery word I utter, you are all ready to die at my feet, I hold you inmy power ... but out there, by the fountain, by that splashing water,stands and waits he whom I love, who holds me in his power. He hasneither rich raiment nor precious stones, no one knows him, but heawaits me, and is certain I shall come--and I shall come--and thereis no power that could stop me when I want to go out to him, and tostay with him, and be lost with him out there in the darkness of thegarden, under the whispering of the trees, and the splash of thefountain ...' Zinaida ceased.
'Is that a made-up story?' Malevsky inquired slyly. Zinaida did noteven look at him.
'And what should we have done, gentlemen?' Lushin began suddenly, 'ifwe had been among the guests, and had known of the lucky fellow at thefountain?'
'Stop a minute, stop a minute,' interposed Zinaida, 'I will tell youmyself what each of you would have done. You, Byelovzorov, would havechallenged him to a duel; you, Meidanov, would have written an epigramon him ... No, though, you can't write epigrams, you would have madeup a long poem on him in the style of Barbier, and would have insertedyour production in the _Telegraph_. You, Nirmatsky, would haveborrowed ... no, you would have lent him money at high interest; you,doctor,...' she stopped. 'There, I really don't know what you wouldhave done....'
'In the capacity of court physician,' answered Lushin, 'I would haveadvised the queen not to give balls when she was not in the humour forentertaining her guests....'
'Perhaps you would have been right. And you, Count?...'
'And I?' repeated Malevsky with his evil smile....
'You would offer him a poisoned sweetmeat.' Malevsky's face changedslightly, and assumed for an instant a Jewish expression, but helaughed directly.
'And as for you, Voldemar,...' Zinaida went on, 'but that's enough,though; let us play another game.'
'M'sieu Voldemar, as the queen's page, would have held up her trainwhen she ran into the garden,' Malevsky remarked malignantly.
I was crimson with anger, but Zinaida hurriedly laid a hand on myshoulder, and getting up, said in a rather shaky voice: 'I have nevergiven your excellency the right to be rude, and therefore I will askyou to leave us.' She pointed to the door.
'Upon my word, princess,' muttered Malevsky, and he turned quite pale.
'The princess is right,' cried Byelovzorov, and he too rose.
'Good God, I'd not the least idea,' Malevsky went on, 'in my wordsthere was nothing, I think, that could ... I had no notion ofoffending you.... Forgive me.'
Zinaida looked him up and down coldly, and coldly smiled. 'Stay, then,certainly,' she pronounced with a careless gesture of her arm.
'M'sieu Voldemar and I were needlessly incensed. It is your pleasureto sting ... may it do you good.'
'Forgive me,' Malevsky repeated once more; while I, my thoughtsdwelling on Zinaida's gesture, said to myself again that no real queencould with greater dignity have shown a presumptuous subject to thedoor.
The game of forfeits went on for a short time after this little scene;every one felt rather ill at ease, not so much on account of thisscene, as from another, not quite definite, but oppressive feeling. Noone spoke of it, but every one was conscious of it in himself and inhis neighbour. Meidanov read us his verses; and Malevsky praised themwith exaggerated warmth. 'He wants to show how good he is now,' Lushinwhispered to me. We soon broke up. A mood of reverie seemed to havecome upon Zinaida; the old princess sent word that she had a headache;Nirmatsky began to complain of his rheumatism....
I could not for a long while get to sleep. I had been impressed byZinaida's story. 'Can there have been a hint in it?' I asked myself:'and at whom and at what was she hinting? And if there really isanything to hint at ... how is one to make up one's mind? No, no, itcan't be,' I whispered, turning over from one hot cheek on to theother.... But I remembered the expression of Zinaida's face during herstory.... I remembered the exclamation that had broken from Lushin inthe Neskutchny gardens, the sudden change in her behaviour to me, andI was lost in conjectures. 'Who is he?' These three words seemed tostand before my eyes traced upon the darkness; a lowering malignantcloud seemed hanging over me, and I felt its oppressiveness, andwaited for it to break. I had grown used to many things of late; I hadlearned much from what I had seen at the Zasyekins; their disorderlyways, tallow candle-ends, broken knives and forks, grumpy Vonifaty,and shabby maid-servants, the manners of the old princess--alltheir strange mode of life no longer struck me.... But what I wasdimly discerning now in Zinaida, I could never get used to.... 'Anadventuress!' my mother had said of her one day. An adventuress--she,my idol, my divinity? This word stabbed me, I tried to get away fromit into my pillow, I was indignant--and at the same time what would Inot have agreed to, what would I not have given only to be that luckyfellow at the fountain!... My blood was on fire and boiling withinme. 'The garden ... the fountain,' I mused.... 'I will go into thegarden.' I dressed quickly and slipped out of the house. The nightwas dark, the trees scarcely whispered, a soft chill air breatheddown from the sky, a smell of fennel trailed across from the kitchengarden. I went through all the walks; the light sound of my ownfootsteps at once confused and emboldened me; I stood still, waitedand heard my heart beating fast and loudly. At last I went up to thefence and leaned against the thin bar. Suddenly, or was it my fancy, awoman's figure flashed by, a few paces from me ... I strained my eyeseagerly into the darkness, I held my breath. What was that? Did I hearsteps, or was it my heart beating again? 'Who is here?' I faltered,hardly audibly. What was that again, a smothered laugh ... or arustling in the leaves ... or a sigh just at my ear? I felt afraid ...'Who is here?' I repeated still more softly.
The air blew in a gust for an instant; a streak of fire flashed acrossthe sky; it was a star falling. 'Zinaida?' I wanted to call, butthe word died away on my lips. And all at once everything becameprofoundly still around, as is often the case in the middle of thenight.... Even the grasshoppers ceased their churr in the trees--onlya window rattled somewhere. I stood and stood, and then went back tomy room, to my chilled bed. I felt a strange sensation as though Ihad gone to a tryst, and had been left lonely, and had passed close byanother's happiness.
XVII
The following day I only had a passing glimpse of Zinaida: she wasdriving somewhere with the old princess in a cab. But I saw Lushin,who, however, barely vouchsafed me a greeting, and Malevsky. The youngcount grinned, and began affably talking to me. Of all those whovisited at the lodge, he alone had succeeded in forcing his way intoour house, and had favourably impressed my mother. My father did nottake to him, and treated him with a civility almost insulting.
'Ah, _monsieur le page_,' began Malevsky, 'delighted to meet you. Whatis your lovely queen doing?'
His fresh handsome face was so detestable to me at that moment, and helooked at me with such contemptuous amusement that I did not answerhim at all.
'Are you still angry?' he went on. 'You've no reason to be. It wasn'tI who called you a page, you know, and pages attend queens especially.But allow me to remark that you perform your duties very badly.'
'How so?'
'Pages ought to be inseparable from their mistresses; pages ought toknow everything they do, they ought, indeed, to watch over them,' headded, lowering his voice, 'day and night.'
'What do you mean?'
'What do I mean? I express myself pretty clearly, I fancy. Day andnight. By day it's not so much matter; it's light, and people areabout in the daytime; but by night, then look o
ut for misfortune. Iadvise you not to sleep at nights and to watch, watch with all yourenergies. You remember, in the garden, by night, at the fountain,that's where there's need to look out. You will thank me.'
Malevsky laughed and turned his back on me. He, most likely, attachedno great importance to what he had said to me, he had a reputationfor mystifying, and was noted for his power of taking people in atmasquerades, which was greatly augmented by the almost unconsciousfalsity in which his whole nature was steeped.... He only wanted totease me; but every word he uttered was a poison that ran through myveins. The blood rushed to my head. 'Ah! so that's it!' I said tomyself; 'good! So there was reason for me to feel drawn into thegarden! That shan't be so!' I cried aloud, and struck myself on thechest with my fist, though precisely what should not be so I could nothave said. 'Whether Malevsky himself goes into the garden,' I thought(he was bragging, perhaps; he has insolence enough for that), 'orsome one else (the fence of our garden was very low, and there wasno difficulty in getting over it), anyway, if any one falls intomy hands, it will be the worse for him! I don't advise any one tomeet me! I will prove to all the world and to her, the traitress (Iactually used the word 'traitress') that I can be revenged!'
I returned to my own room, took out of the writing-table an Englishknife I had recently bought, felt its sharp edge, and knitting mybrows with an air of cold and concentrated determination, thrust itinto my pocket, as though doing such deeds was nothing out of the wayfor me, and not the first time. My heart heaved angrily, and feltheavy as a stone. All day long I kept a scowling brow and lips tightlycompressed, and was continually walking up and down, clutching, withmy hand in my pocket, the knife, which was warm from my grasp, while Iprepared myself beforehand for something terrible. These new unknownsensations so occupied and even delighted me, that I hardly thoughtof Zinaida herself. I was continually haunted by Aleko, the younggipsy--'Where art thou going, young handsome man? Lie there,' andthen, 'thou art all besprent with blood.... Oh, what hast thoudone?... Naught!' With what a cruel smile I repeated that 'Naught!' Myfather was not at home; but my mother, who had for some time past beenin an almost continual state of dumb exasperation, noticed my gloomyand heroic aspect, and said to me at supper, 'Why are you sulking likea mouse in a meal-tub?' I merely smiled condescendingly in reply, andthought, 'If only they knew!' It struck eleven; I went to my room, butdid not undress; I waited for midnight; at last it struck. 'The timehas come!' I muttered between my teeth; and buttoning myself up to thethroat, and even pulling my sleeves up, I went into the garden.
I had already fixed on the spot from which to keep watch. At the endof the garden, at the point where the fence, separating our domainfrom the Zasyekins,' joined the common wall, grew a pine-tree,standing alone. Standing under its low thick branches, I could seewell, as far as the darkness of the night permitted, what tookplace around. Close by, ran a winding path which had always seemedmysterious to me; it coiled like a snake under the fence, which atthat point bore traces of having been climbed over, and led to a roundarbour formed of thick acacias. I made my way to the pine-tree, leanedmy back against its trunk, and began my watch.
The night was as still as the night before, but there were fewerclouds in the sky, and the outlines of bushes, even of tall flowers,could be more distinctly seen. The first moments of expectation wereoppressive, almost terrible. I had made up my mind to everything. Ionly debated how to act; whether to thunder, 'Where goest thou? Stand!show thyself--or death!' or simply to strike.... Every sound, everywhisper and rustle, seemed to me portentous and extraordinary.... Iprepared myself.... I bent forward.... But half-an-hour passed, anhour passed; my blood had grown quieter, colder; the consciousnessthat I was doing all this for nothing, that I was even a littleabsurd, that Malevsky had been making fun of me, began to steal overme. I left my ambush, and walked all about the garden. As if to tauntme, there was not the smallest sound to be heard anywhere; everythingwas at rest. Even our dog was asleep, curled up into a ball at thegate. I climbed up into the ruins of the greenhouse, saw the opencountry far away before me, recalled my meeting with Zinaida, and fellto dreaming....
I started.... I fancied I heard the creak of a door opening, then thefaint crack of a broken twig. In two bounds I got down from the ruin,and stood still, all aghast. Rapid, light, but cautious footstepssounded distinctly in the garden. They were approaching me. 'Here heis ... here he is, at last!' flashed through my heart. With spasmodichaste, I pulled the knife out of my pocket; with spasmodic haste, Iopened it. Flashes of red were whirling before my eyes; my hair stoodup on my head in my fear and fury.... The steps were coming straighttowards me; I bent--I craned forward to meet him.... A man came intoview.... My God! it was my father! I recognised him at once, thoughhe was all muffled up in a dark cloak, and his hat was pulled downover his face. On tip-toe he walked by. He did not notice me, thoughnothing concealed me; but I was so huddled up and shrunk together thatI fancy I was almost on the level of the ground. The jealous Othello,ready for murder, was suddenly transformed into a school-boy.... I wasso taken aback by my father's unexpected appearance that for the firstmoment I did not notice where he had come from or in what direction hedisappeared. I only drew myself up, and thought, 'Why is it my fatheris walking about in the garden at night?' when everything was stillagain. In my horror I had dropped my knife in the grass, but I did noteven attempt to look for it; I was very much ashamed of myself. I wascompletely sobered at once. On my way to the house, however, I went upto my seat under the elder-tree, and looked up at Zinaida's window.The small slightly-convex panes of the window shone dimly blue in thefaint light thrown on them by the night sky. All at once--their colourbegan to change.... Behind them--I saw this, saw it distinctly--softlyand cautiously a white blind was let down, let down right to thewindow-frame, and so stayed.
'What is that for?' I said aloud almost involuntarily when I foundmyself once more in my room. 'A dream, a chance, or ...' Thesuppositions which suddenly rushed into my head were so new andstrange that I did not dare to entertain them.
XVIII
I got up in the morning with a headache. My emotion of the previousday had vanished. It was replaced by a dreary sense of blankness anda sort of sadness I had not known till then, as though something haddied in me.
'Why is it you're looking like a rabbit with half its brain removed?'said Lushin on meeting me. At lunch I stole a look first at my father,then at my mother: he was composed, as usual; she was, as usual,secretly irritated. I waited to see whether my father would make somefriendly remarks to me, as he sometimes did.... But he did not evenbestow his everyday cold greeting upon me. 'Shall I tell Zinaida all?'I wondered.... 'It's all the same, anyway; all is at an end betweenus.' I went to see her, but told her nothing, and, indeed, I could noteven have managed to get a talk with her if I had wanted to. The oldprincess's son, a cadet of twelve years old, had come from Petersburgfor his holidays; Zinaida at once handed her brother over to me.'Here,' she said,' my dear Volodya,'--it was the first time shehad used this pet-name to me--'is a companion for you. His name isVolodya, too. Please, like him; he is still shy, but he has a goodheart. Show him Neskutchny gardens, go walks with him, take him underyour protection. You'll do that, won't you? you're so good, too!' Shelaid both her hands affectionately on my shoulders, and I was utterlybewildered. The presence of this boy transformed me, too, into aboy. I looked in silence at the cadet, who stared as silently at me.Zinaida laughed, and pushed us towards each other. 'Embrace eachother, children!' We embraced each other. 'Would you like me to showyou the garden?' I inquired of the cadet. 'If you please,' he replied,in the regular cadet's hoarse voice. Zinaida laughed again.... I hadtime to notice that she had never had such an exquisite colour in herface before. I set off with the cadet. There was an old-fashionedswing in our garden. I sat him down on the narrow plank seat, andbegan swinging him. He sat rigid in his new little uniform of stoutcloth, with its broad gold braiding, and kept tight hold of the cords.'You'd better unbutton your collar,' I said to him. 'I
t's all right;we're used to it,' he said, and cleared his throat. He was like hissister. The eyes especially recalled her, I liked being nice to him;and at the same time an aching sadness was gnawing at my heart. 'NowI certainly am a child,' I thought; 'but yesterday....' I rememberedwhere I had dropped my knife the night before, and looked for it. Thecadet asked me for it, picked a thick stalk of wild parsley, cut apipe out of it, and began whistling. Othello whistled too.
But in the evening how he wept, this Othello, in Zinaida's arms, when,seeking him out in a corner of the garden, she asked him why he was sodepressed. My tears flowed with such violence that she was frightened.'What is wrong with you? What is it, Volodya?' she repeated; andseeing I made no answer, and did not cease weeping, she was about tokiss my wet cheek. But I turned away from her, and whispered throughmy sobs, 'I know all. Why did you play with me?... What need had youof my love?'
'I am to blame, Volodya ...' said Zinaida. 'I am very much to blame...' she added, wringing her hands. 'How much there is bad and blackand sinful in me!... But I am not playing with you now. I love you;you don't even suspect why and how.... But what is it you know?'
What could I say to her? She stood facing me, and looked at me; and Ibelonged to her altogether from head to foot directly she looked atme.... A quarter of an hour later I was running races with the cadetand Zinaida. I was not crying, I was laughing, though my swolleneyelids dropped a tear or two as I laughed. I had Zinaida's ribbonround my neck for a cravat, and I shouted with delight whenever Isucceeded in catching her round the waist. She did just as she likedwith me.
XIX
Veshnie vody. English Page 21
