Obryv. English

by Ivan Aleksandrovich Goncharov

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  Against universal expectation, Marfinka's wedding was a quiet one, noone being invited except a few neighbouring landowners and the importantpersonages in the town, about fifty guests in all. The young people weremarried in the village church on Sunday, after morning service, andafterwards in the hall, which had been transformed for the occasion, aformal breakfast was served without any of the gaiety and excitementusual to such occasions. The servants were most disappointed, for theirmistress had taken precautions against their drinking to excess, whichmade the whole affair seem dull to them.

  Marfinka's trousseau and her contributions to the household had alreadybeen taken across the Volga, the process having occupied a full week.She herself shone with the charm of a rose grown to perfection; in herface a new emotion was visible which found expression now in a musingsmile, now in a stray tear. Her face was shadowed with the consciousnessof a new life, of a far stretching future with unknown duties, a newdignity and a new happiness. Vikentev wore an expression of modesty,almost of timidity, and was visibly affected.

  Raisky looked at the pretty bride with the emotions of a brother, but hehad an impulse of terror when he noticed in her sheaf of orange blossomsome faded blooms.

  "They are from the bouquet that Vera gave me for my birthday," sheexplained naively.

  Raisky pretended that withered flowers were a bad omen, and helped herto pick them out.

  When the time for their departure came, the bride had to be literallydragged sobbing from her aunt's breast, but her tears were tears of joy.Tatiana Markovna was pale, only maintaining her self-restraint withdifficulty, and it was plain that she could only just stand as shelooked out on the Volga after her departing child. Once at home again,she gave way to her tears. She knew that she possessed the almostundivided love of her other child, the passionate Vera, whose characterhad been ripened by bitter experience.

  Tushin stayed with a friend in the town for the wedding. Next day hecame to Tatiana Markovna, accompanied by an architect, and they spentnearly a week over plans, going over the two houses, the gardens and theservants' quarters, making sketches and talking of radical alterationsin the spring. Everything of value--furniture, pictures, even theparquet flooring--had been taken out of the old house and stored, partlyin the new house, partly in outhouses and on the ground.

  Tatiana Markovna and Vera intended to go to Novosselovo, and later on tovisit the Vikentevs; for the summer they were invited to be the guestsof Anna Ivanovna, Tushin's sister, at "Smoke." Tatiana Markovna hadgiven no definite answer to the suggestion, saying that it must be "asGod wills." In any case Tushin was making the necessary arrangementswith the architect, and intended to make extensive alterations in hishouse for the reception of the honoured visitors.

  Raisky stayed in his rooms in the new house, but Leonti had returned tohis own home for the time being, to return to Malinovka after thedeparture of Tatiana Markovna and Vera. He, too, had been invited byTushin to "Smoke," but Leonti had answered with a sigh, "Later in thewinter. Just now I am expecting...." and had broken off to look out on tothe road from Moscow. He was in fact expecting a letter from his wife inanswer to one he had just written. Not long before, Juliana Andreevnahad written to their housekeeper and had asked her to send her wintercloak. She indicated the address, but said not a word about her husband.Leonti dispatched the cloak himself with a glowing letter in which heasked her to come, and spoke of his love and friendship.

  The poor man received no reply. Gradually he resumed his teaching,though he still betrayed his melancholy now and again during the lessons,and was apt to be absentminded and unconscious of the behaviour of hisscholars, who took pitiless advantage of his helplessness.

  Tushin had offered to look after Malinovka during Tatiana Markovna'sabsence. He called it his winter quarters and made a point of crossingthe Volga every week to give an eye to the house, the farm yard and theservants, of whom only Vassilissa, Egor, the cook and the coachmanaccompanied their mistress to Novosselovo. Yakob and Savili were putespecially at Tushin's disposition.

  Raisky proposed to leave a week after the wedding.

  Tiet Nikonich was in the most melancholy plight of all. At any othertime he would have followed Tatiana Markovna to the end of the world,but after the outbreak of gossip it would have been unsuitable to followher for the moment, because it might have given colour to the talk aboutthem which was half-believed and already partly forgotten. TatianaMarkovna, however, said he might come at Christmas, and by that timeperhaps circumstances would permit him to stay. In the meantime, heaccepted Tushin's invitation to be his guest at "Smoke."

  The gossip about Vera had given ground to the universal expectation ofher marriage with Tushin. Tatiana Markovna hoped that time would healall her wounds, but she recognised that Vera's case stood in a categoryby itself, and that ordinary rules did not apply to it. No rumourreached Vera, who continued to see in Tushin the friend of long standing,who was all the dearer to her since he had stretched out to her hishelping hand.

  In the last days before his departure Raisky had gone through and sortedhis sketches and notebooks, and had selected from his novel those pageswhich bore reference to Vera. In the last night that he spent under theroof of home he decided to begin his plot then and there, and sat downto his writing-table. He determined that one chapter at least should bewritten. "When my passion is past," he told himself, "when I no longerstand in the presence of these men, with their comedy and their tragedy,the picture will be clearer and in perspective. I already see thesplendid form emerge fresh from the hand of its creator, I see my statue,whose majesty is undefiled by the common and the mean." He rose, walkedup and down the room, and thought over the first chapter. After half anhour's meditation he sat down and rested his head on his hands.Weariness invaded him, and as it was uncomfortable to doze in a sittingposture he lay down on the sofa. Very soon he fell asleep, and there wasa sound of regular breathing.

  When he woke it was beginning to get light. He sprang up hastily andlooked round in astonishment, as if he had seen something new andunexpected in his dreams.

  "In my dream, even, I saw a statue," he said to himself. "What does itmean? Is it an omen?"

  He went to the table, read the introduction he had written, and sighed."What use do I make of my powers?" he cried. "Another year is gone." Heangrily thrust the manuscript aside to look for a letter he had receiveda month ago from the sculptor Kirilov, and sat down at the table toanswer it.

  "In my sound and clear mind, dear Kirilov, I hasten to give youthe first intimation of the new and unexpected perspective ofmy art and my activity. I write in answer to the letter in whichyou tell me that you are going to visit Italy and Rome. I amcoming to St. Petersburg; so for God's sake wait for me and Iwill travel with you. Take me with you, and have pity on a blind,insane individual, who has only to-day had his eyes opened to hisreal calling. I have groped about in the darkness for a long time,and have very nearly committed suicide, that is, let my talentperish. You discovered talent in my pictures, but instead ofdevoting myself solely to my brush I have dabbled in music, inliterature--have dissipated my energies. I meant to write a novel,and neither you nor anybody else prevented me and told me that Iam a sculptor, a classical artist. A Venus of living marble isborn of my imagination. Is it then my cue to introduce psychologyinto my pictures, to describe manners and customs? Surely not, myart is concerned with form and beauty.

  "For the novelist quite other qualities are required, and yearsof labour are necessary. I would spare neither time nor endeavourif I thought that my talent lay in my pen. In any case, I willkeep my notes--or perhaps no!--I must not deceive myself byharbouring an uncertain hope. I cannot accomplish what I have inmind with the pen. The analysis of the complicated mechanism ofhuman nature is contrary to my nature. My gift is to comprehendbeauty, to model it in clear and lovely forms.... I shall keepthose notes to remind me of what I have seen, experienced, andsuffered.

  "If the art of sculpture fails me I will h
umiliate myself,and seek out, wherever he may be, the man (his name is MarkVolokov) who first doubted the completion of my novel and willconfess to him, 'You are right, right, I am only half a man!'But until that time comes, I will live and hope.

  "Let us go to Rome, Rome. There dwells Art, not snobbishnessand empty pastime; there is work, enjoyment, life itself. To ourearly meeting!"

  The house was early astir to bid Raisky Godspeed. Tushin and the youngVikentevs had come, Marfinka, a marvel of beauty, amiability and shyness.Tatiana Markovna looked sad, but she pulled herself together and avoidedsentiment.

  "Stay with us," she said reproachfully. "You do not even know, yourself,where you are going."

  "To Rome, Grandmother."

  "What for? To see the Pope?"

  "To be a sculptor."

  "Wha-at?"

  Marfinka also begged him to stay. Vera did not add her voice to therequest, because she knew he would not stay; she thought sorrowfullythat his manifold talents had not developed so far to give the pleasurethey should do to himself and others.

  "Cousin," she said, "if ever you grow weary of your existence abroad,will you come back to glance at this place where you are now at lastunderstood and loved?"

  "Certainly I will, Vera. My heart has found a real home here.Grandmother, Marfinka and you are my dear family; I shall never form newdomestic ties. You will always be present with me wherever I go, but nowdo not seek to detain me. My imagination drives me away, and my head iswhirling with ideas, but in less than a year I shall have completed astatue of you in marble."

  "What about the novel?" she asked, laughing.

  "When I am dead anyone who has a fancy for them may examine my papers,and will find material enough. But my immediate intention is torepresent your head and shoulders in marble."

  "Before the year is out you will fall in love with somebody else, andwill not know which to choose as your model."

  "I may fall in love, but I shall never love anyone as I do you. I willcarve your statue in marble, for you always stand vividly before my eyes.That is certain," he concluded emphatically, as he caught her smilingglance.

  "Certain again!" interrupted Tatiana Markovna. "I don't know what youare discussing there, but I know that when you say 'certain,' Boris, itis safe to say that nothing will come of it."

  Raisky went up to Tushin, who was sitting in a corner silently watchingthe scene.

  "I hope, Ivan Ivanovich, that what we all wish will be accomplished," hesaid.

  "All of us, Boris Pavlovich? Do you think it will be accomplished?"

  "I think so; it could hardly be otherwise. Promise to let me knowwherever I am, because I wish to hold the marriage crown over Vera'shead at the ceremony."

  "I promise."

  "And I promise to come."

  Leonti took Raisky on one side, gave him a letter for Juliana Andreevna,and begged him to seek her out.

  "Speak to her conscience," he said. "If she agrees to return, telegraphto me, and I will travel to Moscow to meet her."

  Raisky promised, but advised him, in the meantime, to rest and to spendthe winter with Tushin.

  The whole party surrounded the travelling carriage. Marfinka weptcopiously, and Vikentev had already provided her with no less than fivehandkerchiefs. When Raisky had taken his seat he looked out once more,and exchanged glances with Tatiana Markovna, with Vera and with Tushin.The common experience and suffering of the six months, which had drawnthem so closely together, passed before his vision with the rapidity,the varying tone and colour, and the vagueness of a dream.

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  As soon as Raisky reached St. Petersburg he hurried off to find Kirilov.He felt an impulse to touch his friend to assure himself that Kirilovreally stood before him, and that he had not started on the journeywithout him. He repeated to him his ardent confidence that his artisticfuture lay in sculpture.

  "What new fancy is this?" asked Kirilov, frowning and plainly expressinghis mistrust. "When I got your letter I thought you were mad. You haveone talent already; why do you want to follow a sidetrack. Take yourpencil, go to the Academy, and buy this," he said, showing him a thickbook of lithographed anatomical drawings. "What do you want withsculpture? It is too late."

  "I feel I have the right touch here," he said, rubbing his fingers oneagainst the other.

  "Whether you have the right touch or not, it is too late."

  "Why too late? There is an ensign I know who wields the chisel withgreat success."

  "An ensign, yes! But you, with your grey hair...." Kirilov emphasisedhis remarks with a vigorous shake of the head.

  Raisky would wrangle with him no longer. He spent three weeks in thestudio of a sculptor, and made acquaintance with the students there. Athome he worked zealously; visited with the sculptor and his students theIsaac Cathedral, where he stood in admiration before the work of Vitali;and he spent many hours in the galleries of the Hermitage. Overwhelmedwith enthusiasm he urged Kirilov to start at once for Italy and Rome.

  He had not forgotten Leonti's commission, and sought out JulianaAndreevna in her lodgings. When he entered the corridor he heard thestrains of a waltz and, he thought, the voice of Koslov's wife. He sentin his name and with it Leonti's letter. After a time the servant, withan air of embarrassment, came to tell him that Juliana Andreevna hadgone with a party of friends to Zarskoe-Selo, and would travel directfrom there to Moscow. Raisky did not think it necessary to mention thisincident to Leonti.

  His former guardian had sent him a considerable sum raised by themortgage of his estate, and with this in hand he set out with Kirilov atthe beginning of January for Dresden. He spent many hours of every dayin the gallery, and paid an occasional visit to the theatre. Raiskypressed his fellow-traveller to go farther afield; he wanted to go toHolland, to England, to Paris.

  "What should I do in England?" asked Kirilov. "There, all theart-treasures are in private galleries to which we have no access, and thepublic museums are not rich in great works of art. If you are determinedto go, you must go by yourself from Holland. I will wait for you inParis."

  Raisky agreed to this proposition. He only stayed a fortnight in England,however, and was very much impressed by the mighty sea of social life.Then he hastened back to his eager study of the rich art treasures ofParis; but he could not possess his soul in the confusion and noisymerriment, in the incessant entertainments of Paris.

  In the early spring the friends crossed the Alps. Even while heabandoned himself to the new impressions which nature, art, and adifferent race made on his mind, Raisky found that the dearest andnearest ties still connected him with Tatiana Markovna, Vera andMarfinka. When he watched the towering crests of the waves at sea or thesnow-clad mountain tops his imagination brought before him his aunt'snoble grey head; her eyes looked at him from the portraits of Velasquezand Gerard Dow, just as Murillo's women reminded him of Vera, and herecalled Marfinka's charming face as he looked at the masterpieces ofGreuze, or even at the women of Raphael. Vera's form flitted before himon the mountain side; he saw once more before him the precipiceoverlooking the narrow plain of the Volga, and fought over again thedespairing struggle from which he had emerged. In the flowery valleysVera beckoned to him under another aspect, offering her hand with heraffectionate smile. So his memories followed him even as he contemplatedthe mighty figures of Nature, Art and History as they were revealed inthe mountains and the plains of Italy.

  He gave himself up to these varied emotions with a passionate absorptionwhich shook the foundations of his physical strength. In Rome heestablished himself in a studio which he shared with Kirilov, and spentmuch of his time in visiting the museums and the monuments of antiquity.Sometimes he felt he had suddenly lost his appreciation of naturalbeauty, and then he would shut himself up and work for days together.Another time he was absorbed in the crowded life of the city, whichappeared to him as a great, crude, moving picture in which the life ofbygone centuries was reflected as in a mirror.

  Through all the manifestations of thi
s rich and glowing existence heremained faithful to his own family, and he was never more than a gueston the foreign soil. In his leisure hours his thoughts were turnedhomewards; he would have liked to absorb the eternal beauty of natureand art, to saturate himself with the history revealed in the monumentsof Rome in order that he might take his spiritual and artistic gainsback to Malinovka.

  The three figures of Vera, Marfinka, and his "little mother" TatianaMarkovna, stretched out beckoning hands to him; and calling him toherself with even greater insistence than these, was another, mightierfigure, the "great mother," Russia herself.

  THE END