'What are you doing up there at such a height?' she asked me with arather queer smile. 'Come,' she went on, 'you always declare you loveme; jump down into the road to me if you really do love me.'
Zinaida had hardly uttered those words when I flew down, just asthough some one had given me a violent push from behind. The wall wasabout fourteen feet high. I reached the ground on my feet, but theshock was so great that I could not keep my footing; I fell down, andfor an instant fainted away. When I came to myself again, withoutopening my eyes, I felt Zinaida beside me. 'My dear boy,' she wassaying, bending over me, and there was a note of alarmed tenderness inher voice, 'how could you do it, dear; how could you obey?... You knowI love you.... Get up.'
Her bosom was heaving close to me, her hands were caressing my head,and suddenly--what were my emotions at that moment--her soft, freshlips began covering my face with kisses ... they touched my lips....But then Zinaida probably guessed by the expression of my face that Ihad regained consciousness, though I still kept my eyes closed, andrising rapidly to her feet, she said: 'Come, get up, naughty boy,silly, why are you lying in the dust?' I got up. 'Give me my parasol,'said Zinaida, 'I threw it down somewhere, and don't stare at me likethat ... what ridiculous nonsense! you're not hurt, are you? stungby the nettles, I daresay? Don't stare at me, I tell you.... Buthe doesn't understand, he doesn't answer,' she added, as though toherself.... 'Go home, M'sieu' Voldemar, brush yourself, and don't dareto follow me, or I shall be angry, and never again ...'
She did not finish her sentence, but walked rapidly away, while I satdown by the side of the road ... my legs would not support me. Thenettles had stung my hands, my back ached, and my head was giddy; butthe feeling of rapture I experienced then has never come a secondtime in my life. It turned to a sweet ache in all my limbs and foundexpression at last in joyful hops and skips and shouts. Yes, I wasstill a child.
XIII
I was so proud and light-hearted all that day, I so vividly retainedon my face the feeling of Zinaida's kisses, with such a shudderof delight I recalled every word she had uttered, I so hugged myunexpected happiness that I felt positively afraid, positivelyunwilling to see her, who had given rise to these new sensations. Itseemed to me that now I could ask nothing more of fate, that now Iought to 'go, and draw a deep last sigh and die.' But, next day, whenI went into the lodge, I felt great embarrassment, which I tried toconceal under a show of modest confidence, befitting a man who wishesto make it apparent that he knows how to keep a secret. Zinaidareceived me very simply, without any emotion, she simply shook herfinger at me and asked me, whether I wasn't black and blue? All mymodest confidence and air of mystery vanished instantaneously andwith them my embarrassment. Of course, I had not expected anythingparticular, but Zinaida's composure was like a bucket of cold waterthrown over me. I realised that in her eyes I was a child, and wasextremely miserable! Zinaida walked up and down the room, giving mea quick smile, whenever she caught my eye, but her thoughts werefar away, I saw that clearly.... 'Shall I begin about what happenedyesterday myself,' I pondered; 'ask her, where she was hurrying offso fast, so as to find out once for all' ... but with a gesture ofdespair, I merely went and sat down in a corner.
Byelovzorov came in; I felt relieved to see him.
'I've not been able to find you a quiet horse,' he said in a sulkyvoice; 'Freitag warrants one, but I don't feel any confidence in it, Iam afraid.'
'What are you afraid of?' said Zinaida; 'allow me to inquire?'
'What am I afraid of? Why, you don't know how to ride. Lord saveus, what might happen! What whim is this has come over you all of asudden?'
'Come, that's my business, Sir Wild Beast. In that case I will askPiotr Vassilievitch.' ... (My father's name was Piotr Vassilievitch.I was surprised at her mentioning his name so lightly and freely, asthough she were confident of his readiness to do her a service.)
'Oh, indeed,' retorted Byelovzorov, 'you mean to go out riding withhim then?'
'With him or with some one else is nothing to do with you. Only notwith you, anyway.'
'Not with me,' repeated Byelovzorov. 'As you wish. Well, I shall findyou a horse.'
'Yes, only mind now, don't send some old cow. I warn you I want togallop.'
'Gallop away by all means ... with whom is it, with Malevsky, you aregoing to ride?'
'And why not with him, Mr. Pugnacity? Come, be quiet,' she added,'and don't glare. I'll take you too. You know that to my mind nowMalevsky's--ugh!' She shook her head.
'You say that to console me,' growled Byelovzorov.
Zinaida half closed her eyes. 'Does that console you? O ... O ... O... Mr. Pugnacity!' she said at last, as though she could find noother word. 'And you, M'sieu' Voldemar, would you come with us?'
'I don't care to ... in a large party,' I muttered, not raising myeyes.
'You prefer a _tete-a-tete_?... Well, freedom to the free, and heavento the saints,' she commented with a sigh. 'Go along, Byelovzorov, andbestir yourself. I must have a horse for to-morrow.'
'Oh, and where's the money to come from?' put in the old princess.
Zinaida scowled.
'I won't ask you for it; Byelovzorov will trust me.'
'He'll trust you, will he?' ... grumbled the old princess, and all ofa sudden she screeched at the top of her voice, 'Duniashka!'
'Maman, I have given you a bell to ring,' observed Zinaida.
'Duniashka!' repeated the old lady.
Byelovzorov took leave; I went away with him. Zinaida did not try todetain me.
XIV
The next day I got up early, cut myself a stick, and set off beyondthe town-gates. I thought I would walk off my sorrow. It was a lovelyday, bright and not too hot, a fresh sportive breeze roved over theearth with temperate rustle and frolic, setting all things a-flutterand harassing nothing. I wandered a long while over hills and throughwoods; I had not felt happy, I had left home with the intention ofgiving myself up to melancholy, but youth, the exquisite weather, thefresh air, the pleasure of rapid motion, the sweetness of repose,lying on the thick grass in a solitary nook, gained the upper hand;the memory of those never-to-be-forgotten words, those kisses, forceditself once more upon my soul. It was sweet to me to think thatZinaida could not, anyway, fail to do justice to my courage, myheroism....' Others may seem better to her than I,' I mused, 'letthem! But others only say what they would do, while I have done it.And what more would I not do for her?' My fancy set to work. I beganpicturing to myself how I would save her from the hands of enemies;how, covered with blood I would tear her by force from prison,and expire at her feet. I remembered a picture hanging in ourdrawing-room--Malek-Adel bearing away Matilda--but at that point myattention was absorbed by the appearance of a speckled woodpecker whoclimbed busily up the slender stem of a birch-tree and peeped outuneasily from behind it, first to the right, then to the left, like amusician behind the bass-viol.
Then I sang 'Not the white snows,' and passed from that to a song wellknown at that period: 'I await thee, when the wanton zephyr,' thenI began reading aloud Yermak's address to the stars from Homyakov'stragedy. I made an attempt to compose something myself in asentimental vein, and invented the line which was to conclude eachverse: 'O Zinaida, Zinaida!' but could get no further with it.Meanwhile it was getting on towards dinner-time. I went down into thevalley; a narrow sandy path winding through it led to the town. Iwalked along this path.... The dull thud of horses' hoofs resoundedbehind me. I looked round instinctively, stood still and took off mycap. I saw my father and Zinaida. They were riding side by side. Myfather was saying something to her, bending right over to her, hishand propped on the horses' neck, he was smiling. Zinaida listenedto him in silence, her eyes severely cast down, and her lips tightlypressed together. At first I saw them only; but a few instants later,Byelovzorov came into sight round a bend in the glade, he was wearinga hussar's uniform with a pelisse, and riding a foaming black horse.The gallant horse tossed its head, snorted and pranced from sideto side, his rider was at once holding h
im in and spurring him on.I stood aside. My father gathered up the reins, moved away fromZinaida, she slowly raised her eyes to him, and both galloped off ...Byelovzorov flew after them, his sabre clattering behind him. 'He'sas red as a crab,' I reflected, 'while she ... why's she so pale? outriding the whole morning, and pale?'
I redoubled my pace, and got home just at dinner-time. My father wasalready sitting by my mother's chair, dressed for dinner, washed andfresh; he was reading an article from the _Journal des Debats_ in hissmooth musical voice; but my mother heard him without attention, andwhen she saw me, asked where I had been to all day long, and addedthat she didn't like this gadding about God knows where, and God knowsin what company. 'But I have been walking alone,' I was on the pointof replying, but I looked at my father, and for some reason or otherheld my peace.
XV
For the next five or six days I hardly saw Zinaida; she said she wasill, which did not, however, prevent the usual visitors from callingat the lodge to pay--as they expressed it, their duty--all, that is,except Meidanov, who promptly grew dejected and sulky when he hadnot an opportunity of being enthusiastic. Byelovzorov sat sullen andred-faced in a corner, buttoned up to the throat; on the refined faceof Malevsky there flickered continually an evil smile; he had reallyfallen into disfavour with Zinaida, and waited with special assiduityon the old princess, and even went with her in a hired coach to callon the Governor-General. This expedition turned out unsuccessful,however, and even led to an unpleasant experience for Malevsky; he wasreminded of some scandal to do with certain officers of the engineers,and was forced in his explanations to plead his youth and inexperienceat the time. Lushin came twice a day, but did not stay long; I wasrather afraid of him after our last unreserved conversation, and atthe same time felt a genuine attraction to him. He went a walk withme one day in the Neskutchny gardens, was very good-natured and nice,told me the names and properties of various plants and flowers, andsuddenly, _a propos_ of nothing at all, cried, hitting himself onhis forehead, 'And I, poor fool, thought her a flirt! it's clearself-sacrifice is sweet for some people!'
'What do you mean by that?' I inquired.
'I don't mean to tell you anything,' Lushin replied abruptly.
Zinaida avoided me; my presence--I could not help noticingit--affected her disagreeably. She involuntarily turned away from me... involuntarily; that was what was so bitter, that was what crushedme! But there was no help for it, and I tried not to cross her path,and only to watch her from a distance, in which I was not alwayssuccessful. As before, something incomprehensible was happening toher; her face was different, she was different altogether. I wasspecially struck by the change that had taken place in her one warmstill evening. I was sitting on a low garden bench under a spreadingelderbush; I was fond of that nook; I could see from there the windowof Zinaida's room. I sat there; over my head a little bird was busilyhopping about in the darkness of the leaves; a grey cat, stretchingherself at full length, crept warily about the garden, and the firstbeetles were heavily droning in the air, which was still clear, thoughit was not light. I sat and gazed at the window, and waited to see ifit would open; it did open, and Zinaida appeared at it. She had on awhite dress, and she herself, her face, shoulders, and arms, were paleto whiteness. She stayed a long while without moving, and looked outstraight before her from under her knitted brows. I had never knownsuch a look on her. Then she clasped her hands tightly, raised them toher lips, to her forehead, and suddenly pulling her fingers apart, shepushed back her hair behind her ears, tossed it, and with a sort ofdetermination nodded her head, and slammed-to the window.
Three days later she met me in the garden. I was turning away, but shestopped me of herself.
'Give me your arm,' she said to me with her old affectionateness,'it's a long while since we have had a talk together.'
I stole a look at her; her eyes were full of a soft light, and herface seemed as it were smiling through a mist.
'Are you still not well?' I asked her.
'No, that's all over now,' she answered, and she picked a small redrose. 'I am a little tired, but that too will pass off.'
'And will you be as you used to be again?' I asked.
Zinaida put the rose up to her face, and I fancied the reflection ofits bright petals had fallen on her cheeks. 'Why, am I changed?' shequestioned me.
'Yes, you are changed,' I answered in a low voice.
'I have been cold to you, I know,' began Zinaida, 'but you mustn't payattention to that ... I couldn't help it.... Come, why talk about it!'
'You don't want me to love you, that's what it is!' I cried gloomily,in an involuntary outburst.
'No, love me, but not as you did.'
'How then?'
'Let us be friends--come now!' Zinaida gave me the rose to smell.'Listen, you know I'm much older than you--I might be your aunt,really; well, not your aunt, but an older sister. And you ...'
'You think me a child,' I interrupted.
'Well, yes, a child, but a dear, good clever one, whom I love verymuch. Do you know what? From this day forth I confer on you the rankof page to me; and don't you forget that pages have to keep closeto their ladies. Here is the token of your new dignity,' she added,sticking the rose in the buttonhole of my jacket, 'the token of myfavour.'
'I once received other favours from you,' I muttered.
'Ah!' commented Zinaida, and she gave me a sidelong look, 'What amemory he has! Well? I'm quite ready now ...' And stooping to me, sheimprinted on my forehead a pure, tranquil kiss.
I only looked at her, while she turned away, and saying, 'Follow me,my page,' went into the lodge. I followed her--all in amazement. 'Canthis gentle, reasonable girl,' I thought, 'be the Zinaida I used toknow?' I fancied her very walk was quieter, her whole figure statelierand more graceful ...
And, mercy! with what fresh force love burned within me!
XVI
After dinner the usual party assembled again at the lodge, and theyoung princess came out to them. All were there in full force, just ason that first evening which I never forgot; even Nirmatsky had limpedto see her; Meidanov came this time earliest of all, he brought somenew verses. The games of forfeits began again, but without the strangepranks, the practical jokes and noise--the gipsy element had vanished.Zinaida gave a different tone to the proceedings. I sat beside her byvirtue of my office as page. Among other things, she proposed thatany one who had to pay a forfeit should tell his dream; but this wasnot successful. The dreams were either uninteresting (Byelovzorov haddreamed that he fed his mare on carp, and that she had a wooden head),or unnatural and invented. Meidanov regaled us with a regular romance;there were sepulchres in it, and angels with lyres, and talkingflowers and music wafted from afar. Zinaida did not let him finish.'If we are to have compositions,' she said, 'let every one tellsomething made up, and no pretence about it.' The first who had tospeak was again Byelovzorov.
The young hussar was confused. 'I can't make up anything!' he cried.
'What nonsense!' said Zinaida. 'Well, imagine, for instance, you aremarried, and tell us how you would treat your wife. Would you lock herup?'
'Yes, I should lock her up.'
'And would you stay with her yourself?'
'Yes, I should certainly stay with her myself.'
'Very good. Well, but if she got sick of that, and she deceived you?'
'I should kill her.'
'And if she ran away?'
'I should catch her up and kill her all the same.'
'Oh. And suppose now I were your wife, what would you do then?'
Byelovzorov was silent a minute. 'I should kill myself....'
Zinaida laughed. 'I see yours is not a long story.'
The next forfeit was Zinaida's. She looked at the ceiling andconsidered. 'Well, listen, she began at last, 'what I have thoughtof.... Picture to yourselves a magnificent palace, a summer night, anda marvellous ball. This ball is given by a young queen. Everywheregold and marble, crystal, silk, lights, diamonds, flowers, fragrantsce
nts, every caprice of luxury.'
'You love luxury?' Lushin interposed. 'Luxury is beautiful,' sheretorted; 'I love everything beautiful.'
'More than what is noble?' he asked.
'That's something clever, I don't understand it. Don't interrupt me.So the ball is magnificent. There are crowds of guests, all of themare young, handsome, and brave, all are frantically in love with thequeen.'
'Are there no women among the guests?' queried Malevsky.
'No--or wait a minute--yes, there are some.'
'Are they all ugly?'
'No, charming. But the men are all in love with the queen. She is talland graceful; she has a little gold diadem on her black hair.'
I looked at Zinaida, and at that instant she seemed to me so muchabove all of us, there was such bright intelligence, and such powerabout her unruffled brows, that I thought: 'You are that queen!'
'They all throng about her,' Zinaida went on, 'and all lavish the mostflattering speeches upon her.'
'And she likes flattery?' Lushin queried.
'What an intolerable person! he keeps interrupting ... who doesn'tlike flattery?'
'One more last question,' observed Malevsky, 'has the queen ahusband?'
'I hadn't thought about that. No, why should she have a husband?'
'To be sure,' assented Malevsky, 'why should she have a husband?'
'_Silence!_' cried Meidanov in French, which he spoke very badly.
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