Obryv. English

by Ivan Aleksandrovich Goncharov

  CHAPTER IX

  The days passed quietly by. Every morning the sun climbed up through theblue air, and lighted up the Volga and its banks. At midday the snowyclouds crept up, often piled one on another until the blue sky washidden, and the cooling rain fell on woods and fields; then once morethe clouds stole away before the approach of the warm, pleasant evening.

  Life at Malinovka passed just as peacefully. The naivete of thesurroundings had not yet lost its charm for Raisky. The sunshineinsinuating itself everywhere, his aunt's kind face, Marfinka'sfriendliness, and the willing attention of the servants made up apleasant, friendly environment. He even felt pleasure in the watchfulguardianship that his aunt exercised over him; he smiled when shepreached order to him, warned him of crime and temptation, reproachedhim for his gipsy tendencies and tried to lead him to a definite plan oflife.

  He liked Tiet Nikonich, and saw in his courtesy and his extreme goodmanners, his care for his health, and the universal esteem and affectionin which he was held, a survival from the last century. When he feltvery good tempered he found even Paulina Karpovna's eccentricitiesamusing. She had induced him to lunch with her one day, when she assuredhim that she was not indifferent to him, and that he himself was on theeve of returning her sentiments!

  The even, monotonous life lulled him like a cradle song. He wrote idlyat his novel, strengthened a situation here, grouped a scene there, oraccentuated a character. He watched his aunt, Leonti and his wife, andMarfinka, or looked at the villages and fields lying in an enchantedsleep along the banks of the Volga. In this ocean of silence he caughtnotes which he could interpret in terms of music, and determined, in hisabundant leisure, to pursue the subject.

  One day, after a lonely walk along the shore, he climbed the cliff, andpassed Koslov's house. Seeing that the windows were lighted, he wasgoing up to the door, when suddenly he heard someone climb over thefence and jump down into the garden. Standing in the shadow of the fence,Raisky hesitated. He was afraid to sound the alarm until he knew whetherit was a thief or an admirer of Juliana Andreevna's, some MonsieurCharles or other. However, he decided to pursue the intruder, andpromptly climbed the fence and followed him. The man stopped before awindow and hammered on the pane.

  "That is no thief, possibly Mark," thought Raisky. He was right.

  "Philosopher, open! Quick!" cried the intruder.

  "Go round to the entrance," said Leonti's voice dully through the glass.

  "To the entrance, to wake the dog! Open!"

  "Wait!" said Leonti, and as he opened the window Mark swung himself intothe room.

  "Who is that behind you. Whom have you brought with you?" asked Leontiin terror.

  "No one. Do you imagine there's a ghost. Ah! there is someone scramblingup."

  "Boris, you? How did you happen to arrive together," he exclaimed asRaisky sprang into the room.

  Mark cast a hasty glance on Boris and turned to Leonti. "Give me anotherpair of trousers. Have you any wine in the house?

  "What's the matter, and where have you been?" asked Leonti suddenly, whohad just noticed that Mark was covered up to the waist with wet andslime.

  "Give me another pair of trousers quick," said Mark impatiently. "Whatis the good of chattering?"

  "I have no wine, because we drank it all at dinner, when MonsieurCharles was our guest."

  "Where do you keep your clothes?"

  "My wife is asleep and I don't know; you must ask Avdotya."

  "Fool! I will find them myself!"

  He took a light, and went into the next room.

  "You see what he is like," sighed Leonti, addressing Raisky.

  After about ten minutes, Mark returned with the trousers and Leontiquestioned him as to how he had got wet through.

  "I was crossing the Volga in a fishing-boat. The ass of a fisherman fellasleep, and brought us right up into the reeds by the island, and we hadto get out among the reeds to extricate the boat."

  Without taking any heed of Raisky, he changed his trousers and sat downwith his feet drawn up under him in the great armchair, so that hisknees were on a level with his face, and he supported his bearded chinupon them.

  Raisky observed him silently. Mark was twenty-seven, built as if hismuscles were iron, and well proportioned; a thick mane of light brownhair framed his pale face with its high arched forehead, and fell inlong locks on his neck. The full beard was paler in colour. His open,bold, irregular, rather thin face was illuminated every now and then bya smile--of which it was hard to read the meaning; one could not tellwhether it spelt vexation, mockery or pleasure. His grey eyes could bebold and commanding, but for the most part wore a cold expression ofcontempt. Tied up in a knot as he was, he now sat motionless withstaring eyes, stirring neither hand nor foot.

  There was something restless and watchful in the motionless attitude, asin that of a dog apparently at rest, but ready to spring.

  Suddenly his eyes gleamed, and he turned to Raisky. "You will havebrought some good cigars from St. Petersburg," he began without ceremony."Give me one."

  Raisky offered his cigar case, and reminded Leonti that he had notintroduced them.

  "What need is there of introduction! You came in by the same way, andboth know who the other is."

  "Words of wisdom from the scholar!" ejaculated Mark.

  "That same Mark of whom I wrote to you, don't you remember!" said Leonti.

  "Wait, I will introduce myself," cried Mark, springing from the easychair. He posed ceremoniously, and bowed.

  "I have the honour to present myself, Mark Volokov, under policesurveillance, involuntary citizen of this town."

  He puffed away at his cigar, and again rolled himself up in a ball.

  "What do you do with yourself here?" asked Raisky.

  "I think, as you do."

  "You love art, are perhaps an artist?"

  "And are you an artist?"

  "Painter and musician," broke in Leonti, "and now he is writing a novel.Take care, brother, he may put you in too."

  Raisky signed to him to be silent.

  "Yes, I am an artist," Mark went on, "but of a different kind. Your Auntwill have acquainted you with my works."

  "She won't hear your name mentioned."

  "There you have it. But it was only a matter of a hundred apples or sothat I plucked from over the fence."

  "The apples are mine; you may take as many as you like."

  "Many thanks. But why should I need your permission? I am accustomed todo everything in this life without permission. Therefore I will take theapples without your permission, they taste better."

  "I was curious to make your acquaintance. I hear so many tales aboutyou."

  "What do they say?"

  "Little that is good."

  "Probably they tell you I am a thief, a monster, the terror of theneighbourhood."

  "That's about it."

  "But if this reputation precedes me, why should you seek my acquaintance.I have torn your books, as no doubt our friend there has informed you."

  "There he is to the point," cried Leonti. "I am glad he began thesubject himself. He is a good sort at the bottom. If one is ill, hewaits on one like a nurse, runs to the chemist, and takes any amount oftrouble. But the rascal wanders round and gives no one any peace."

  "Don't chatter so," interrupted Mark.

  "For that matter," said Raisky, "everybody does not abuse you. TietNikonich Vatutin, for instance, goes out of his way to speak well ofyou."

  "Is it possible! The sugar marquis! I left him some souvenirs of mypresence. More than once I have waked him in the night by opening hisbedroom window. He is always fussing about his health, but in all theforty years since he came here no one remembers him to have been ill. Ishall never return the money he lent me. What more provocation would hehave? And yet he praises me."

  "So that is your department of art," said Raisky gaily.

  "What kind of an artist are you? It is your turn to tell me."

  "I love and adore beauty. I love a
rt, draw, and make music, and just nowI am trying to write a great work, a novel."

  "Yes, yes, I see. You are an artist of the kind we all are."

  "All?"

  "With us Russians everybody is an artist. They use the chisel, paint,strum, write poetry, as you and your like do. Others drive in themornings to the courts or the government offices, others sit beforetheir stalls playing draughts, and still others stick on theirestates--Art is everywhere."

  "Do you feel no desire to enter any of these categories."

  "I have tried, but don't know how to. What brought you here?"

  "I don't know myself. It is all the same to me where I go. I had aletter summoning me here from my Aunt, and I came."

  Mark busied himself in his thoughts, and took no further interest inRaisky. Raisky on the other hand examined the extraordinary personbefore him attentively, studied the expression of his face, followed hismovements, and tried to grasp the outline of a strong character. "ThankGod," he said to himself, "that I am not the only idle, aimless personhere. In this man there is something similar; he wanders about,reconciles himself to his fate, and does nothing. I at least draw andtry to write my novel, while he does nothing. Is he the victim of secretdiscord like myself? Is he always struggling between two fires?Imagination striving upward to the ideal lures him on on the onehand--man, nature and life in all its manifestations; on the other he isattracted by a cold, destructive analysis which allows nothing to live,and will forget nothing, an analysis that leads to eternal discontentand blighting cold. Is that his secret?" He glanced at Mark, who wasalready drowsing.

  "Good-bye, Leonti," he said, "it's time I was going home."

  "What am I to do with him?"

  "He can stay here all right."

  "Think of the books. It's leaving the goat loose in the vegetablegarden."

  "I might wheel him in the armchair into that dark little room,and lock him in," thought Leonti, "but if he woke, he might pull theroof down."

  Mark helped him out of his dilemma by jumping to his feet.

  "I am going with you," he said to Raisky. "It is time for you to go tobed, philosopher," he said to Leonti. "Don't sit up at nights. You havealready got a yellow patch in your face, and your eyes are hollow."

  He put out the light, stuffed on his cap, and leapt out of the window.Raisky followed his example, and they went down the garden once more,climbed the fence, and came out in the street.

  "Listen," said Mark. "I am hungry, and Leonti has nothing to give me.Can you help me to storm an inn?"

  "As far as I am concerned. But the thing can be managed without theapplication of force."

  "It is late, and the inns are shut. No one will open willingly,especially when it is known that I am in the case; consequently we mustenter by storm. We will call 'Fire!' and then they will open at once,and we can get in."

  "And be hurled out into the street again."

  "There you are wrong. It is possible that I might be refused entrance,but once in, I remain."

  "A siege, a row at night...."

  "Ah, you are afraid of the police," laughed Mark. "You are thinking ofwhat the Governor would decide on in such a serious case, what NielAndreevich would say, how the company would take it. Now good-bye, Iwill go and storm my entrance alone."

  "Wait, I have another, more delightful plan," said Raisky. "My Auntcannot, you say, bear to hear your name; only the other day she declaredshe would in no circumstances give you hospitality."

  "Well, what then?"

  "Come home with me to supper, and stay the night with me."

  "That's not a bad plan. Let us go."

  They walked in silence, almost feeling their way through the darkness.When they came to the fence of the Malinovka estate, which bounded thevegetable garden, Raisky proposed to climb it.

  "It would be better," said Mark, "to go by way of the orchard or fromthe precipice. Here we shall wake the house and must make a circuit inaddition. I always go the other way."

  "You--come--here--into the garden? What to do?"

  "To get apples."

  "You have my permission, so long as Tatiana Markovna does not catchyou."

  "I shan't be caught so easily. Look, someone has just leaped over thefence, like us. Hi! Stop! Don't try to hide. Who's there? Halt! Raisky,come and help me!"

  He ran forward a few paces, and seized someone.

  Raisky hurried to the point from which voices were audible, remarking,"What cat's eyes you have!" The man who was held fast by Mark's strongarms twisted round to free himself, and in the end fell to the groundand made for the fence.

  "Catch him, hold fast! There is another sneaking round in the vegetablegarden," cried Raisky.

  Raisky saw dimly a figure about to spring down from the fence, anddemanded who it was.

  "Sir, let me go, do not ruin me!" whispered a woman's voice.

  "Is it you, Marina, what are you doing here?

  "Gently, Sir. Don't call me by name. Savili will hear, and will beatme."

  "Off with you! No, stop. I have found you at the right moment. Can youbring some supper to my room?"

  "Anything, Sir. Only, for God's sake, don't betray me."

  "I won't betray you. Tell me what there is in the kitchen."

  "The whole supper is there. As you did not come, no one ate anything.There is sturgeon in jelly, turkey, all on ice."

  "Bring it, and what about wine?"

  "There is a bottle in the sideboard, and the fruit liqueurs are in MarfaVassilievna's room."

  "Be careful not to wake her."

  "She sleeps soundly. Let me go now, Sir, for my husband may hear us."

  "Run, but take care you don't run into him."

  "He dare not do anything if he does meet me now. I shall tell him thatyou have given me orders...."

  Meanwhile, Mark had dragged his man from hiding. "Savili Ilivich," theunknown murmured, "don't strike me."

  "I ought to know the voice," said Raisky.

  "Ah! You are not Savili Ilivich, thank God. I Sir, I am the gardenerfrom over there."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I came on a real errand, Sir. Our clock has stopped, and I came here towait for the church-clock to strike."

  "Devil take you," cried Mark, and gave the man a push that sent himreeling.

  The man sprang over the ditch, and vanished in the darkness.

  Raisky, meantime, returned to the main entrance. He tried to open thedoor, not wishing to knock for fear of awaking his aunt. "Marina," hecalled in a low voice, "Marina, open!"

  The bolt was pushed back. Raisky pushed open the door with his foot.Before him stood--he recognised the voice--Savili, who flung himselfupon him and held him.

  "Wait, my little dove, I will make my reckoning with you, not withMarina."

  "Take your hands off, Savili, it is I."

  "Who, not the Master?" exclaimed Savili, loosening his prisoner. "Youwere so good as to call Marina? But," after a pause, "have you not seenher."

  "I had already asked her to leave some supper for me and to open thedoor," he said untruthfully, by way of protecting the unfaithful wife."She had already heard that I am here. Now let my guest pass, shut thedoor, and go to bed."

  "Yes, Sir," said Savili, and went slowly to his quarters, meeting Marinaon the way.

  "Why aren't you in bed, you demon?" she cried, dashing past him. "Yousneak around at night, you might be twisting the manes of the horseslike a goblin, and put me to shame before the gentry."

  Marina sped past light-footed as a sylph, skilfully balancing dishes andplates in her hands, and vanished into the dark night. Savili's answerwas a threatening gesture with his whip.

  Mark was indeed hungry, and as Raisky showed no hesitation either, thesturgeon soon disappeared, and when Marina came to clear away there wasnot much to take.

  "Now we should like something sweet," suggested Raisky.

  "No sweets are left," Marina assured them, "but I could get somepreserves, of which Vassilissa has the keys."
>
  "Better still punch," said Mark. "Have you any rum?"

  "Probably," she said, in answer to an inquiring glance from Raisky. "Thecook was given a bottle this morning for a pudding. I will see."

  Marina returned with a bottle of rum, a lemon and sugar, and then leftthe room. The bowl was soon in flames, which lighted up the darkenedroom with their pale blue light. Mark stirred it with the spoon, whilethe sugar held between two spoons dripped slowly into the bowl. Fromtime to time he tasted it.

  "How long have you been in our town?" asked Raisky after a short silence.

  "About two years."

  "You must assuredly be bored?"

  "I try to amuse myself," he said, pouring out a glass for himself andemptying it. "Drink," he said, pushing a glass towards Raisky.

  Raisky drank slowly, not from inclination, but out of politeness to hisguest. "It must be essential for you to do something, and yet you appearto do nothing?"

  "And what do you do?"

  "I told you I am an artist."

  "Show me proof of your art."

  "At the moment I have nothing except a trifling thing, and even that isnot complete."

  He rose from the divan and uncovered Marfinka's portrait.

  "H'm, it's like her, and good," declared Mark. He told himself thatRaisky had talent. "And it would be excellent, but the head is too largein proportion and the shoulders a trifle broad."

  "He has a straight eye," thought Raisky.

  "I like best the lightly-observed background and accessories, from whichthe figure detaches itself light, gay, and transparent. You have foundthe secret of Marfinka's figure. The tone suits her hair and hercomplexion."

  Raisky recognised that he had taste and comprehension, and wondered ifhe were really an artist in a disguise.

  "Do you know Marfinka?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "And Vera?"

  "Vera too."

  "Where have you met my cousins? You do not come to the house."

  "At church."

  "At church? But they say you never look inside a church."

  "I don't exactly remember where I have seen them, in the village, in thefield."

  Raisky concluded his guest was a drunkard, as he drunk down glass afterglass of punch. Mark guessed his thoughts.

  "You think it extraordinary that I should drink. I do it out of sheerboredom, because I am idle and have no occupation. But don't be afraidthat I shall set the house on fire or murder anybody. To-day I amdrinking more than usual because I am tired and cold. But I am not adrunkard."

  "It depends on ourselves whether we are idle or not."

  "When you climbed over Leonti's fence, I thought you were a sensibleindividual, but now I see that you belong to the same kind of preachingperson as Niel Andreevich...."

  "Is it true that you fired on him?" asked Raisky curiously.

  "What nonsense! I fired a shot among the pigeons to empty the barrel ofmy gun, as I was returning from hunting. He came up and shouted that Ishould stop, because it was sinful. If he had been content withprotesting I should merely have called him a fool, and there it wouldhave ended. But he began to stamp and to threaten, 'I will have you putin prison, you ruffian, and will have you locked up where not even theraven will bring you a bone.' I allowed him to run through the wholegamut of polite remarks, and listened calmly--and then I 'took aim athim.'"

  "And he?"

  "Ducked, lost his stick and goloshes, finally squatted on the ground andwhimpered for forgiveness. I shot into the air. That's all."

  "A pretty distraction," commented Raisky ironically.

  "No distraction," said Mark seriously. "There was more in it, abadly-needed lesson for the old boy."

  "And then what?"

  "Nothing. He lied to the Governor, saying that I had aimed at him, butmissed. If I had been a peaceful citizen of the town I should have beenthrust into gaol without delay; but as I am an outlaw, the Governorinquired into the matter and advised Niel Andreevich to say nothing. Sothat no enquiry should be instituted from St. Petersburg; they fear thatlike fire."

  "When I spoke of idleness," said Raisky, "I did not mean to read a moral.Yet when I see what your mind, your abilities and your educationare...."

  "What have you seen? That I can climb a hedge, shoot at a fool, eat anddrink heavily?" he asked as he drained his glass.

  Raisky watched him, and wondered uneasily how it would all end.

  "We were speaking of the art you love so much," said Mark.

  "I have been snatched from Art as if from my mother's breast," sighedRaisky, "but I shall return and shall reach my goal."

  "No, you will not," laughed Mark.

  "Why not, don't you believe in firm intentions?"

  "How should I do otherwise, since they say the way to Hell is paved withthem. No, you will do little more than you have accomplishedalready--that is very little. We, and many like us, simply rot and die.The only wonder is that you don't drink. That is how our artists,half men, usually end their careers."

  Smiling he thrust a glass towards his host, but emptied it himself.Raisky concluded that he was cold, malicious and heartless. But the lastremark had disturbed him. Was he really only half a man? Had he not afirm determination to reach the goal he had set before himself? He wasonly making fun of him.

  "You see that I don't drink away my talents," he remarked.

  "Yes, that is an improvement, a step forward. You haven't succumbed tosociety, to perfumes, gloves and dancing. Drinking is a different thing.It goes to one man's head, another is susceptible to passion. Tell me,do you easily take fire? Ah! I have touched the spot," he went on asRaisky coloured. "That belongs to the artistic temperament, to whichnothing is foreign--_Nihil humanum_, etc. One loves wine, anotherwomen, a third cards. The artists have usurped all these things forthemselves. Now kindly explain what I am."

  "What you are. Why, an artist, without doubt, who on a firstacquaintance will drink, storm public houses, shoot, borrow money--"

  "And not repay it. Bravo! an admirable description. To justify your lastremark and prove its truth beyond doubt, lend me a hundred roubles. Iwill never pay them back unless you and I should have exchanged ourrespective situations in life."

  "You say that in jest?"

  "Not at all. The market gardener, with whom I live, feeds me. He has nomoney, nor have I."

  Raisky shrugged his shoulders, felt in his pockets, produced his pocketbook and laid some notes on the table.

  "You have counted wrong," said Mark. "There are only eighty here."

  "I have no more money on me. My aunt keeps my money, and I will send youthe balance to-morrow."

  "Don't forget. This is enough for the moment and now I want to sleep."

  "My bed is at your disposal, and I will sleep on the divan. You are myguest."

  "I should be worse than a Tatar if I did that," murmured Mark, alreadyhalf asleep. "Lie down on your bed. Anything will do for me."

  In a few minutes he was sleeping the sleep of a tired, satisfied anddrunken man worn out with cold and weariness. Raisky went to the window,raised the curtain, and looked out into the dark, starlit night. Now andthen a flame hovered over the unemptied bowl, flared up and lighted upthe room for a moment. There was a gentle tap on the door.

  "Who is there?" he asked.

  "I, Borushka. Open quickly. What are you doing there," said the anxiousvoice of Tatiana Markovna.

  Raisky opened the door, and saw his aunt before him, like a white-cladghost.

  "What is going on here. I saw a light through the window, and thoughtyou were asleep. What is burning in the bowl."

  "Rum."

  "Do you drink punch at night?" she whispered, looking first at him, thenat the bowl in amazement.

  "I am a sinner, Grandmother. Sometimes I drink."

  "And who is lying there asleep?" she asked in new terror as she gazed onthe sleeping Mark.

  "Gently, Grandmother, don't wake him. It is Mark."

  "Mark! Shall I send for the po
lice! What have you to do with him? Youhave been drinking punch at night with Mark? What has come over you,Boris Pavlovich?"

  "I found him at Leonti's, we were both hungry. So I brought him here andwe had supper."

  "Why didn't you call me. Who served you, and what did they bring you?"

  "Marina did everything."

  "A cold meal. Ah, Borushka, you shame me."

  "We had plenty to eat."

  "Plenty, without a single hot dish, without dessert. I will send up somepreserves."

  "No, no ... if you want anything, I can wake Mark and ask him."

  "Good heavens! I am in my night-jacket," she whispered, and drew back tothe door. "How he sleeps, all rolled up like a little dog. I am ashamed,Boris Pavlovich, as if we had no beds in the house. But put out theflames. No dessert!"

  Raisky extinguished the blue flame and embraced the old lady. She madethe sign of the Cross over him, looked round the room once more, andwent out on tiptoe. Just as he was going to lie down again there wasanother tap on the door, he opened it immediately.

  Marina entered, bearing a jar of preserves; then she brought a bed andtwo pillows. "The mistress sent them," she said.

  Raisky laughed heartily, and was almost moved to tears.