But Nadenka pulled the reins and the horse stood.
“You see how she obeys me!” said Nadenka and patted the horse on the neck.
Nobody even noticed Aduyev. Pale and silent, he looked at Nadenka, and she, as if to mock him, never seemed so pretty as now. How the side-saddle riding habit suited her with its hat and green veil! How it showed off her waist! Her face was enlivened by a shameful pride and the luxury of a new experience. A flush of pleasure now vanished, now reappeared on her cheeks. The horse pranced slightly and compelled the shapely rider to bend forward and lean backward gracefully. Her figure rocked in the saddle like the stem of a flower cradled by the wind. Then the groom led a horse up for the Count.
“Count! Shall we ride around the grove again?” asked Nadenka.
“Again!” thought Aduyev.
“Very well,” answered the Count.
The horses set off.
“Nadezhda Alexandrovna!” Aduyev suddenly cried out in a kind of wild voice.
Everyone stood still, as if nailed to the spot or turned to stone, and looked, perplexed at Alexander. This lasted a minute.
“Oh, it’s Alexander Fyodorych!” the mother said, the first to come to.
The Count bowed in greeting. Nadenka skillfully tossed back the veil from her face, turned and looked at Alexander in fear, opened her little mouth a bit, then quickly turned away, spurred her horse, who tore forward and in two leaps disappeared out the gate. The Count sped after her.
“Slow down, slow down for Heaven’s sake, slow down,” the mother cried after them. “Hold on to the horse’s ear. Oh, Lord in Heaven, before you know it, she’ll fall; what strange hobbies these!”
And all vanished, only the horses’ hoofbeats were audible and the dust rose in a cloud from the road. Alexander remained behind with Mrs. Lyubetsky. He looked at her in silence as if asking with his eyes, “What does this mean?” She did not keep him waiting long for an answer.
“They’ve gone,” she said. “Even their trail has gone cold! Well let the young people have their fun, but you and I will chat for a while, Alexander Fyodorych. Now what does this mean that for two weeks we haven’t seen hide nor hair of you? Have you stopped loving us?”
“I was ill, Marya Mikhailovna,” he answered sullenly.
“Yes, that’s obvious. You’ve grown thin and you’re so pale! Sit down at once and rest. Wouldn’t you like some soft-boiled eggs cooked for you? It’s a long while till dinner.”
“Thank you, I don’t want any.”
“Why not? They’ll be ready right away, and the eggs are wonderful. The Finnish peasant brought them today.”
“No, no, please.”
“What is the matter with you? I’ve been waiting and waiting, thinking what does it mean? He doesn’t come over himself or bring any French books. You remember you promised something–Balzac’s Peau de chagrin, wasn’t it? I waited and waited–Nothing! He’s stopped loving us, I thought, Alexander Fyodorych has surely stopped loving us.”
“I fear something else, Marya Mikhailovna. Haven’t you stopped loving me?”
“It’s a sin for you to fear that, Alexander Fyodorych! I love you as if you were family. Now I don’t know about Nadenka. Why, she’s still a child. What sense has she? How does she know how to value people! Every day I repeat to her, ‘What does it mean that we don’t see Alexander Fyodorych; why doesn’t he come? I keep expecting him.’ Would you believe it? For days we haven’t sat down to dinner before five o’clock; I kept dunking, he’ll arrive soon. Though Nadenka would say sometimes, ‘What is it, Mama, whom are we waiting for? I’m hungry and the Count too…’”
“So the Count… visits often?” asked Alexander.
“Yes, almost every day and sometimes twice on a single day. He’s so kind, has taken such a liking to us… ‘Well, then,’ Nadenka would say, ‘I’m hungry and that’s that–it’s time to sit down.’ ‘But what about Alexander Fyodorych?’ I’d say. ‘He’s not coming,’ she’d say, ‘want to bet he won’t come? It’s no use waiting…’ ” With these words Mrs. Lyubetsky cut Alexander as if with a knife.
“She… really spoke like that?” he asked, trying to smile.
“Yes she spoke like that and hurried things. I’m strict, you see, though I look so soft-hearted. I even scolded her. ‘One time,’ I said, ‘you wait till five for him and don’t have dinner; another time you absolutely won’t wait–you don’t make sense! I don’t like it! Alexander Fyodorych is our old friend, he’s loves us and his uncle Pyotr Ivanych has shown great fondness for us. I don’t like your uncaring attitude! He’ll surely resent it and won’t come any more!…’”
“And what did she say?” asked Alexander.
“Why, nothing, you know how lively she is–she’ll jump up, begin to sing and run off, or say ‘He’ll come if he wants to!’ She’s so playful! So then I’d think he’ll come! But another day passes–and no! I’d begin again, ‘What is this, Nadenka, is Alexander Fyodorych well?’ ‘I don’t know, Mama,’ she’d say, ‘how should I know?’ ‘Let’s send a note and find out what’s the matter with him?’ But thinking’s one thing, doing another. I forgot, I counted on her, but she’s no better than the wind. Here now, she’s taken up with this riding. One day she saw the Count on horseback from the window and began pestering me with one thing only, ‘I want to ride!’ I tried to talk her out of it; but no, ‘I want to.’ She’s a crazy girl! In my time what was horseback riding! We were not brought up like that at all. But now, it’s terrible to say, ladies have even started to smoke. Over there, across from us, lives a young widow; she sits on the balcony the whole day with a straw in her mouth and smokes. People walk and ride past–and she doesn’t mind! It used to be in our time that even if a man smelled of tobacco in the living room…”
“Did this begin a long time ago?” asked Alexander.
“Why, I don’t know. They say it became the fashion about five years ago. It’s all from the French, you know…”
“Not that; I mean, has Nadezhda Alexandrovna been riding for long?”
“About a week and a half. The Count is so kind, so obliging. What, indeed, doesn’t he do for us; how he spoils her. Look at all these flowers–all from his garden! Sometimes I get worried. ‘How’s this, Count,’ I’ll say, ‘you’re spoiling her. She’ll be altogether insufferable!’–and I’ll scold her. Marya Ivanovna, Nadenka and I were in his riding ring–you know that I watch out for her myself; who better than a mother to look out for a daughter? I have taken care of her upbringing and without boasting, I’ll say: May God give everyone such a daughter! Nadenka took lessons right there in our presence. Then we had lunch in his garden, and now they ride there every day. Why, what a wealthy house he has! We took a look–everything was so tasteful and luxurious!”
“Every day!” said Alexander almost to himself.
“Yes, why not have fun! I too was young myself… we used…”
“And they ride for long?”
“About three hours. But what is it has made you feel ill?”
“I don’t know… Something hurts in my chest…” he said, pressing his hand to his heart.
“You don’t take anything for it?”
“No.”
“That’s the way with you young people! Everything’s always all right for the time being, but then you suddenly realize that time is up. What is it, does it ache, gnaw, or stab?”
“Indeed, it aches, gnaws, and stabs!” said Alexander, distraught.
“It’s a cold, Heaven preserve us! You must not neglect it, you’ll wear yourself out that way… it can turn into pneumonia, and there are no medicines! Do you know what? Take some liniment, and rub your chest hard at night, rub till it’s red, then instead of tea, drink herb tea, I’ll give you the recipe.”
Nadenka returned, pale from weariness. She threw herself on the sofa, hardly breathing.
“Just look!” said Marya Mikhailovna, putting her hand on Nadenka’s head, “how you’ve tired yourself out; you can hardly breathe.
Drink a little water and go change your clothes, loosen the laces. This riding will do you no good!”
Alexander and the Count stayed the whole day. The Count was unfailingly polite and attentive to Alexander, invited him to his house to see the garden, suggested he share the horseback ride, offered him a horse.
“I don’t know how to ride,” said Aduyev coldly.
“You don’t know how?” asked Nadenka, “but how much fun it is! We’re going again tomorrow, Count?”
The Count bowed.
“That’s enough from you, Nadenka,” remarked her mother. “You’re bothering the Count.”
But nothing showed that there were any special relations between Nadenka and the Count. He was uniformly charming with mother and daughter, sought no occasion to speak with Nadenka alone, didn’t run after her into the garden, looked at her exactly the same way as at her mother. Her free contact with him and their horseback rides were explained on her part by the wildness and changeability of her character, her naiveté, perhaps top by her lack of proper upbringing and ignorance of the conditions of society, and on her mother’s part–by weakness and shortsightedness. The attentiveness and complacency of the Count and his daily visits could be attributed to the proximity of their country places and the cordial reception he always found at the Lyubetskys.
It seemed natural enough if you looked at things with an impartial eye. But Alexander looked through a magnifying glass and saw a lot… a lot… that you wouldn’t see with the naked eye.
“Why had Nadenka changed toward him?” he asked himself. She no longer waited for him in the garden, did not meet him with a smile, but with fear, and dressed much more carefully lately. There was no carelessness in her manner. She was more considered in her actions as if she had become more reasonable. Sometimes her eyes and words concealed something like a secret… Where were her lovable caprices, her wildness and pranks? All gone. She had become serious, thoughtful, silent. It was as if something was tormenting her. She was now very like all the girls–the same kind of hypocrite, telling the same lies, asking about one’s health with the same concern… just as constantly attentive, charming in clichés… to him Alexander! Who?… oh Heavens! And his heart sank.
“It’s no use, no use,” he insisted to himself. “Something’s hidden here! But I’ll find out whatever it costs, and then bear the grief.
“I’ll not permit the shameless schemer
With sighs and praise and sultry art
To tempt the inexperienced heart,
That noisome gnawing worm shan’t slither
Near the young lily’s tender stem
Oozing his poison, to condemn
The yet half-open bud to wither.” 4
And that day after the Count had gone, Alexander tried to seize the moment to talk with Nadenka alone. What did he not try? He took a book with which she used to call him into the garden away from her mother, showed it to her and went to the bank, thinking she’d run after him at once. He waited and waited– she didn’t come. He returned to the house. She was reading a book and did not look at him. He sat down next to her. She did not raise her eyes, then asked fleetingly in passing whether he was busy with his writing, had he finished something new? Not a word about the past.
He began talking with her mother. Nadenka went out into the garden. Her mother left the room and Aduyev rushed into the garden. Nadenka, seeing him, got up from the bench and set off, not to meet him, but by the circular path quietly towards home, as if running away from him. He quickened his pace, she likewise.
“Nadezhda Alexandrovna!” he called from a distance, “I’d like to say two words to you.”
“Let’s go into the house; it’s damp here,” she answered.
Returning, she again sat down next her mother. Alexander almost felt ill.
“And you too now fear dampness?” he said pointedly.
“Yes, the evenings are so dark now and cold,” she answered, yawning.
“Soon we’re moving back to the city,” remarked her mother. “Try to look in at our apartment, Alexander Fyodorych, and remind the landlord to repair the two locks on the doors and to the shutter in Nadenka’s bedroom. He promised–he’ll forget for sure. They’re all like that; they only want to get your money.”
Aduyev began to say goodbye.
“See that it’s not for long!” said Marya Mikhailovna.
Nadenka was silent.
He had already reached the door and turned to her. She took three steps to him. His heart skipped a beat.
“At last!” he thought.
“Will you come to see us tomorrow?” she asked coldly, but her eyes were fixed on him with greedy curiosity.
“I don’t know, why?”
“I’m only asking, will you?”
“You’d like me to?”
“Will you come to see us tomorrow?” she repeated in the same cold tone, but with greater impatience.
“No,” he answered vexedly.
“And the day after?”
“No. I’m not coming for a whole week, maybe two… not for a long time.” And he fixed on her a searching glance, trying to read in her eyes what impression this answer would make.
She was silent, but upon his answer her eyes instantly dropped, and what was in them? Did sorrow cloud them or had the lightning of joy illumined them? It was impossible to read anything on this beautiful marble face.
Alexander squeezed his hat in his hand and left.
“Don’t forget to rub your chest with liniment!” Marya Mikhailovna called after him. And now Alexander had another task–to find out the purpose of Nadenka’s question. What did she mean by it: did she want to see him or was she afraid?
“Oh, what torment! What torment!” he said in despair.
Poor Alexander didn’t hold out; he came again three days later. Nadenka was at the garden gate when he rowed close to the shore, she turned as if she did not see him, and after taking a few aimless steps along the path, as if she were just walking without purpose, started off home.
He found her with her mother. A couple of people from town were there, the neighbor Marya Ivanovna and the unavoidable Count. Alexander’s torments were unendurable. Again a whole day passed in empty, petty conversation. How the guests bored him! They talked calmly about all kinds of nonsense, passed judgment, joked, laughed.
“They laugh!” said Alexander, “they can laugh when… Nadenka has changed toward me! They don’t care! Pitiful, empty people; they rejoice at everything!”
Nadenka went off into the garden; the Count did not go with her. For some time both he and Nadenka seemed to avoid each other in Alexander’s presence. He sometimes would find them in the garden or the house alone, but then they would separate and–in his presence–not come together any more. It was a new terrible discovery for Alexander–a sign that they were conspiring together.
The guests departed. The Count left too. Nadenka did not know this and did not hurry home. Aduyev took leave of Marya Mikhailovna without ceremony and went into the garden. Nadenka stood with her back to Alexander, holding on to the gate with her hand and resting her head on her hand as on that unforgettable evening. She did not see and did not hear his approach.
How his heart beat as he crept up to her on tip-toe. His breathing ceased. “Nadezhda Alexandrovna!” he began, hardly audible in his excitement.
She started as if a shot had been fired at her side, turned and took a step back from him.
“Tell me, please, what’s that smoke over there?” she began in embarrassment, pointing in a lively manner to the opposite side of the river, “a fire or one of those factory furnaces?…”
He looked at her in silence.
“Indeed, I thought it was a fire… Why do you look at me that way, you don’t think so?…”
She fell silent.
“And you,” he began, shaking his head, “you too are like the others, like all of them! Who would have expected this… two months ago?…”
“What do you mean?
I don’t understand you,” she said and tried to leave.
“Stop, Nadezhda Alexandrovna, I haven’t the strength to bear this torture any longer.”
“What torture? Really, I don’t know…”
“Don’t pretend; tell me, is this you? Are you the same person you were?”
“I’m the same!” she said firmly.
“What! You haven’t changed toward me?”
“No. I’m just as friendly with you, I think; I receive you just as cheerfully…”
“Just as cheerfully! So why do you run away from the gate?…”
“I, run away? See what have you invented. I stand at the gate, but you say–I run away.”
She began to laugh in a constrained manner.
“Nadezhda Alexandrovna, stop dodging!” Aduyev continued.
“What dodging? Why have you fastened on me?”
“Is this you? Heavens! A month and a half ago right here…”
“What smoke is that on the other shore, I would like to know.”
“It’s terrible! terrible!” said Alexander.
“And what have I done to you? You stopped coming to see us yourself–as you wish… to keep you against your will…” Nadenka began.
“You’re pretending! As if you didn’t know why I stopped coming?”
Looking to one side, she shook her head.
“And the Count?” he said almost threateningly.
“What Count?”
She put on a face as if she were hearing about the Count for the first time.
“What Count! Will you also say,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes, “that you don’t care about him?”
“You’re mad!” she answered, stepping back from him.
“Yes, you’re right!” he went on, “my reason is failing with each passing day… How can you act with such cunning, such ingratitude toward a person who loved you more than anything in the world, who forgot everything for you, everything, who imagined all along he’d soon be happy forever, but you…”
“What have I done?” she said, retreating further.
“What do you mean?” he answered, infuriated by her coolness. “You have forgotten! I remind you that here on this very spot you swore a hundred times to belong to me. ‘God hears our vows!’ you said. Yes, he heard them! You ought to blush before Heaven and before these trees, before every blade of grass… It all bears witness to our happiness, every grain of sand here speaks of our happiness. Look, glance around you!… You’ve committed perjury!!!”
An Ordinary Story Page 15
