Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated)

by Ivan Turgenev

  [Viera is thoughtful for a moment, then commences to play a bright waltz.]

  Gorski: Oh, Lord! How sweet you are. You resemble that little fish.

  Viera [continuing to play]: I see Mr. Mukhin from here. He must feel quite jolly. I am sure he is losing.

  Gorski: He doesn’t care.

  Viera [after a short pause, during which she continues to play]: Tell me, why does Stanitsyn never fully express his thoughts?

  Gorski: Probably he has too many of them.

  Viera: You are sore. He is not foolish; he is a very nice man. I like him.

  Gorski: He is an excellent, settled man.

  Viera: Yes . . . But why do his clothes hang so poorly on him? He always looks as though he were not used to them; or as though he had put them on for the first time.

  [Gorski does not answer her but looks at her silently.]

  Viera: What are you thinking about?

  Gorski: I was thinking ... I was imagining a small room, only not amidst our snows, but somewhere south, in a far - off land . . .

  Viera: A few minutes ago, you said you didn’t want to go far away.

  Gorski: I don’t want to go alone . . . Not to know anyone, — the sounds of a strange language are not tuneful . . . Through the open window, the fresh sea breezes come, the white window curtains flutter quietly, like a sail, the door opens into the garden, and upon the threshold, under the faint shade of the ivy

  Viera [slightly confused]: Oh, you are a poet! . . .

  Gorski: I am not. I am only’recalling.

  Viera: You are recalling?

  Gorski: Nature, yes. The rest, which you gave me no chance to express, is a dream.

  Viera: Dreams never come true in reality.

  Gorski: Who told you that? Mlle. Beinaim6? For Heaven’s sake, leave all similar apothegms of woman’s wisdom to the forty - five - year - old maids and phlegmatic youths. Reality . . . But what vivid, creative imagination will attempt to match reality? Pardon me . . . but any lobster is more imaginative than the Tales of Hoffman; and what poetic creation of any genius can compare . . . well, even with the oak, which is growing in your garden on the hillock?

  Viera: I am willing to believe you, Gorski.

  Gorski: Believe me, the most exaggerated, the most enraptured happiness, begotten by the capricious imagination of an idle man, cannot compare with that happiness which he can attain ... if he only remains healthy; if his fate does not go against him; if his estate is not sold at auction; and if, finally, he himself knows what he wants.

  Viera: Is that all?

  Gobski: But we ... but I am well, young, and my estate is not mortgaged.

  Viera: But you don’t know what you want. . . .

  Gorski [positively]: I do know.

  Viera [looking at him]: Well, tell me, if you know . . .

  Gorski: You shall have it: I desire that you . . .

  [Servant enters from the dining - room.]

  Servant: Vladimir Petrovich Stanitsyn!

  Viera [getting up quickly]: I cannot receive him now . . . Gorski, I think that finally, I understand you . . . You receive him . . . puisque tout est arrange . . . [Goes into the reception - room.]

  Mlle. Beinaime: Eh bien? Elle s’en va?

  Gorski [with some agitation]: Oui . . . Elle est allee voir . . .

  Mlle. Beinaime: Quelle petite folle! [Goes into the reception - room.]

  Gorski [after a moment’s silence]: What does this mean? Am I married?...”! think that finally, I understand you.” . . . So that’s where it is tending! “Puisque tout est arrange!” I can’t bear her at this moment! Oh, I am a vain boaster, a vain boaster! How brave I was while I was talking to Mukhin, and now . . . What poetic flights I indulged in! She forgot the customary words, “Ask mother!” Pshaw! . . . What a foolish position! One way ot another, I must put an end to this. — Stanitsyn came at the opportune moment. Oh, fate, oh fate, tell me, please, are you deriding me, or are you helping me? Well, we’ll see . . . Mukhin is a great fellow . . .

  [Stanitsyn enters. He is elegantly dressed. In his right hand he is holding his hat; in his left, a basket wrapped up in paper. His face shows agitation. On beholding Gorski, he stops short and blushes a little. Gorski goes to meet him with a most amiable expression and outstretched hand.]

  Gorski: How do you do, Vladimir Petrovich? I am glad to see you.

  Stanitsyn: And I . . . very . . . How are you? Have you been here long?

  Gorski: Since yesterday, Vladimir Petrovich!

  Stanitsyn: Is everybody well?

  Gorski: Everybody, positively everybody, Vladimir Petrovich, beginning with Anna Vasilevna and ending with the little dog, which you gave to Viera Nikolaevna. Well, how are you?

  Stanitsyn: I ... I am all right . . . Where is she?

  Gorski: In the reception - room, playing cards.

  Stanitsyn: So early! And you ?

  Gorski: I am here, as you see . . . what have you brought? A present, I am sure.

  Stanitsyn: Yes; Viera Nikolaevna said — I sent to Moscow for some candy.

  Gorski: To Moscow?

  Stanitsyn: Yes; there the candy is better. Where is Viera Nikolaevna? [Puts hat and candy on the table.]

  Gorski: I think she is in the reception - room, looking on.

  Stanitsyn [looking into the reception - room, timidly]: Who is that new person?

  Gorski: Don’t you recognize him? Mukhin, Ivan Pavlych.

  Stanitsyn: Oh, yes . . . [Changes his position.]

  Gorski: Don’t you want to go into the reception - room? . . . You act as though you were nervous, Vladimir Petrovich!

  Stanitsyn: No, I am not . . . travelling, you know . . . dust. Well, my head, you know . . .

  [General laughter resounds from the reception - room.

  All are shouting: “Without four! Without four!”

  Viera says: “I congratulate you, Mr. Mukhin.”]

  Stanitsyn [laughing and looking into the reception - room]: What’s the matter there? Has some one lost?

  Gorski: Why don’t you go in?

  Stanitsyn: To tell the truth, Gorski, I should like & little talk with Viera Nikolaevna.

  Gorski: With her alone?

  Stanitsyn: Yes; only a few words. I should like to now — during the day — You know yourself . . .

  Gorski: Well, then go in and tell her. Take the candy along.

  Stanitsyn: That’s right. [Goes up to the door, but hesitates. Suddenly Anna Vasilevna’s voice is heard]: “C’est vous, Waldemar? Bonjour . . . Entrez done” . . . [He goes in.]

  Gorski [alone]: I am displeased with myself. I am beginning to grow gloomy and provoked. Oh, Lord, oh, Lord! What am I living through? Why do I feel my heart in my throat? Why do I suddenly begin to feel so disagreeably lively? Why am I always ready, like a school - boy, to play wanton tricks upon everybody, everybody, myself included? If I am not in love, then what’s the object of teasing myself and others? Get married? No; I am not going to get married, especially under threat. And if so, can’t I sacrifice my selfishness? Well, let her triumph — well, may the Lord be with her! [Goes up to the pool table and commences to push the balls around.] Perhaps I’d be better off, if she’d marry . . . No, that’s nonsense ... I’d never be able to see her, any more than my ears. [Continues to push the balls.] Shall I make a bet? If I strike — Pshaw, how childish! [Throws down his cue, goes up to the table, and picks up a book amd reads.] “And this is what happened: Not quite five years after the wedding, the charming, vivacious Marie changed into the corpulent and shouting Marie Bogdanovna . . . Where had all her aspirations and her dreams disappeared?” . . . Oh, novelists, how childish you are! That’s what you are bothering yourselves about! Is it surprising that a man grows older, more corpulent, more foolish? This is what’s painful: the dreams and aspirations remain the same; the eyes hardly grow dim, the first down is hardly off the face, and the husband does not know what to do with himself . . . What’s more, a self - respecting man becomes febrile even before marr
iage ... I think they are coming in — I must save myself. Pshaw! I feel as in Gogol’s “Marriage” . . . Come what may, I am not going to jump out of the window. I shall most calmly walk into the garden . . . Honor and place for you, Stanitsyn!

  [4s he hurriedly withdraws, Viera and Stanitsyn enter from the drawing - room.]

  Viera [to Stanitsyn]: What’s that? It seems to me that Gorski is running into the garden.

  Stanitsyn: Yes, I confess — told him, that I ... to talk to you alone . . . only a few words . . .

  Viera: Oh, you told him . . . What did he say to you?

  Stanitsyn: He . . . nothing . . .

  Viera: What preparations! You are frightening me ... I hardly understood your note of yesterday . . .

  Stanitsyn: The case is this, Viera Nikolaevna . . . Pardon my temerity ... I know ... I am not deserving . . . [Viera moves towards the window; he follows her.] The case is this — I — I dare ask you to marry me . . . [Viera lowers her head in silence.] Oh, Lord, I know very well, that I am not worthy of you ... I know that it is, on my part — But you have known me for a long time — if blind devotion — the fulfillment of the smallest wish — if all that — I beg you to forgive my daring — If all . . . [He stops. Viera gives him her hand silently.’] Is it possible that I cannot even hope? . . .

  Viera [quietly]: You do not understand me, Vladimir Petrovich.

  Stanitsyn: If that’s the case . . . surely . . . pardon me . . . Permit me to ask you one thing, Viera Nikolaevna: Don’t deprive me of the happiness of seeing you at times . . . I assure you that I won’t bother you ... If you should . . . with some one else . . . You . . . with your chosen one . . . I assure you ... I shall always rejoice in your happiness . . . I know the value . . . Where do I come in? . . . You, undoubtedly, are right . . .

  Viera: Let me think it over, Vladimir Petrovich.

  Stanitsyn: What do you mean?

  Viera: Leave me now for a short time . . . I’ll see you . . . I’ll talk it over with you . . .

  Stanitsyn: No matter what you decide, I’ll consent without a murmur. [Bows, goes into the drawing - room, and shuts the door after hvm.]

  Viera [looking after him, goes up to the garden door, and calls]: Gorski! Gorski, come in! [Goes to the front of the stage.]

  [Gorski enters after a few moments.]

  Gorski: Did you call me?

  Viera: Did you know that Stanitsyn wanted to talk to me alone?

  Gorski: Yes, he told me.

  Viera: You knew what he wanted?

  Gorski: No; not for sure.

  Viera: He asked me to marry him.

  Gorski: What did you tell him?

  Viera: Nothing.

  Gorski: You have not refused him?

  Viera: I asked him to wait a while.

  Gorski: Why?

  Viera: Gorski, what do you mean by “Why?” What’s the matter with you; why are you looking at me so coldly; why are you talking so indifferently? How peculiarly you are smiling! You see that I have come to you for advice; that I am reaching out my hand to you, — and you . . .

  Gorski: Pardon me, Viera Nikolaevna ... At times, I feel woefully dull ... I have been walking in the sun without a hat . . . Don’t laugh . . . Truly, it is possible that that . . . And so Stanitsyn has asked for your hand, and you have asked me for my advice, and now I am asking you for your opinion about family life in general which can be compared with milk . . . milk soon gets sour.

  Viera: Gorski! I do not understand you. Fifteen minutes ago, in this very place — [pointing to the piano] — recollect, is this what you said to me? Did I leave you in this frame of mind? What’s the matter with you? Are you making fun of me? Gorski, have I deserved that?

  Gorski [painfully]: i assure you that I am not making fun of you.

  Viera: How shall I explain this sudden change? Why can’t I understand you? Why, on the contrary, am I . . . Tell me, tell me, yourself, have I not always been as frank with you as a sister?

  Gorski [somewhat agitated]: Viera Nikolaevna! I

  Viera: Or, perhaps — see what you are forcing me to say — perhaps Stanitsyn awakens in you, — what shall I say, — jealousy?

  Gorski: Why not?

  Viera: Oh, do not pretend — you know only too well — After all, what am I talking about? Do I know what you are thinking about me, what your feelings are towards me?

  Gorski: Viera Nikolaevna! Truly, it would be better for us to be separated for a time . . .

  Viera: Gorski! . . . What did you say?

  Gorski: Jesting aside . . . Our relations are peculiar . . . We are fated to misunderstand and to torment one another.

  Viera: I do not resent any one’s tormenting me; but I do not want any one to make fun of me . . . Misunderstand one another? — why should we? Don’t I look you straight in the face? Do I like misunderstandings? Don’t I say everything I think? Am I not trustworthy? Gorski, if we are to be separated, let’s remain friends, at least.

  Gorski: If we should part, would you think even once about me?

  Viera: Gorski, you apparently like me to . . . you want me to confess. But I am not in the habit of either lying or exaggerating. Yes, I like you — I have feelings of affection for you, regardless of your peculiarities — and . . . that’s all. This friendly feeling may develop, may stop. It all depends upon you . . . This is what I am living through . . . Now you, you say what you want, what you are thinking. Don’t you understand that I am not asking you out of mere curiosity; that I must know, at least . . . [She stops and turns away.]

  Gorski: Viera Nikolaevna! Listen to me: You were born fortunate. From childhood you have breathed freedom . . . The truth for you is as essential as light for the eyes; air for the lungs . . . Boldly, you look around you, and boldly, you march forward, because you don’t know life; therefore, life will have no impediments for you. But for God’s sake, do not demand the same boldness from an obscure and frightened man, such as I am; from a man, who is guilty before himself, and who has sinned incessantly, and will continue to sin . . . Don’t force from me that last decisive word, which I will never speak out loud in your presence, possibly because I have said it to myself a thousand times. I repeat to you: be indulgent with me or drop me altogether — wait a little longer . . .

  Viera: Gorski, shall I believe you? Tell me, — I will believe you, — if you will tell me to believe you.

  Gorski [with an involuntary movement]: The Lord knows . . .

  Viera [after a moment’s silence]: Think it over and give me a better answer.

  Gorski: I always give a better answer when I am not thinking.

  Viera: You are as capricious as a little girl.

  Gorski: And you are terribly contrary . . . But you’ll pardon me ... I believe I told you to “wait.” That un - pardonably foolish word simply dropped off my lips . . .

  Viera [growing red quickly]: Really? Thank you for your frankness.

  [Gorski starts to answer her, but the reception - room door opens suddenly and everybody except Mlle. Belnaime enters. Anna Vasilevna is in a very agreeable and jolly mood; Mukhin walks arm in arm with her. Stanitsyn throws a quick look at Viera and Gorski.]

  Libanova: Just imagine, Eugene, we have completely ruined Mr. Mukhin. Literally ruined. But what a passionate player he is!

  Gorski: I did not know that.

  Libanova: C’est incroyable! He loses on every play . . . [Sits down.] Now, we can have a walk.

  Mukhin [going up to the window and speaking with restrained anger]: We can hardly go for a walk. It is beginning to rain.

  Varvara Ivanovna: The barometer has dropped down very much to - day . . . [Sits down in back of Libanova.]

  Libanova: Is that so? Comme c’est contrariant! Eh bien, we must think up something . . . Eugene, and you, Waldemar, it’s your business.

  Chukhanov: Does anyone want to play pool with me? [2Vo one answers him.] Otherwise, we’ll have a lunch and a little vodka. [Silence again.] Then I’ll go myself and drink to the health of the whole compan
y. [Goes into the dining - room.]

  [In the meanwhile Stanitsyn goes up to Viera but dares not speak to her . . . Gorski stands to one side. Mukhin examines the drawings on the table.]

  Libanova: Well, ladies and gentlemen! Gorski, start something.

  Gobski: If you want me to, I’ll read to you the preface to Buffon’s “History of Natural Science.”