Isolde
Page 20
She didn’t say anything in return. He rested his head on her shoulder.
“Here, with you, I could sleep.”
Suddenly he lifted his head again.
“Liza, do you realize…?”
She opened her eyes and studied his anxious face in the half-light.
“Liza, you could have a child.” He paused for a moment, as if lacking the strength to go on. “Think about it, Liza, a child—our child.” He was whispering hurriedly. “Promise me, promise me that you won’t do anything. Let him be born. You’ll be able to look into his eyes and think of me. Our child.”
“A child,” she repeated quietly, and recollected how Cromwell had slept on her shoulder, just like a child, like her child. Her heart leapt with pity. Pity for the murdered Cromwell and pity for her child who would never be born, mixed with pity for Andrei. She let out a sigh and tears streamed down her face.
“You’re crying, Liza. Why?”
She smiled through her tears.
“Everyone must cry when they’re too happy.”
He passed her his glass of wine.
“Drink this.”
She drank obediently and the ringing in her ears grew even louder. Through the haze, she saw Andrei’s pale face leaning over her.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Liza opened her eyes. She found herself in a narrow boat, floating down a black river. A white sail was hanging over the side. No, it wasn’t a boat, it was a bed and the sail was a bed sheet. But there were still huge white ostrich-feather fans swaying above her head and music was coming from somewhere in the corner of the room.
“Andrei,” she called out.
And suddenly Andrei’s face swam out of the darkness.
“Andrei, I love you.”
Andrei lit a match and fished his watch out from under his pillow.
“It’s a quarter to eight. We have a whole two hours left.”
The match was extinguished and everything merged together again. Andrei’s arms held her tightly and his lips kissed hers.
“Liza, I love you. I’m happy.” Andrei whispered into her ear, “Liza, Liza, wake up. We only have two hours left after all. Only two hours.”
Liza came to. The room was silent and dark. Andrei was asleep. She was lying on her back. Her head hurt and her back hurt and she couldn’t move from pain, weakness and fatigue.
“It’s as if I’ve been hit by a tram,” she thought sleepily.
There was a ringing in her ears and her head was empty. But she knew one thing. She knew she must get up.
“You must get up. If you don’t get up, you’ll fall asleep, and then… Then…” She shuddered. “You must get up right now. You must.”
Carefully, she sat up, and carefully, she placed her feet on the floor. Everything swam before her eyes as pain ran through her body.
Liza staggered to her feet, holding on to the headboard for support as she made her way unsteadily to the bathroom.
“I must.” She flicked the switch and stood still, shielding her eyes from the bright light.
Then she walked over to the gas boiler and turned the handle.
“How simple.”
After turning out the light, she made her way back to the bed in the dark.
Andrei held his arms out towards her in his sleep.
“Liza, Liza, where are you?”
She lay down next to him.
“Sleep. Sleep now. I’m here, right here, beside you.”
He put his arms around her and held her to him as he slept.
She rested her head on his shoulder and blissfully closed her eyes. Somewhere nearby, just below the window, she heard a motor car sound its horn. But nothing from that hostile, frightening, strange world could hurt them now.
PUSHKIN PRESS
Pushkin Press was founded in 1997, and publishes novels, essays, memoirs, children’s books—everything from timeless classics to the urgent and contemporary.
This book is part of the Pushkin Collection of paperbacks, designed to be as satisfying as possible to hold and to enjoy. It is typeset in Monotype Baskerville, based on the transitional English serif typeface designed in the mid-eighteenth century by John Baskerville. It was litho-printed on Munken Premium White Paper and notch-bound by the independently owned printer TJ International in Padstow, Cornwall. The cover, with French flaps, was printed on Rives Linear Bright White paper. The paper and cover board are both acid-free and Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certified.
Pushkin Press publishes the best writing from around the world—great stories, beautifully produced, to be read and read again.
STEFAN ZWEIG · EDGAR ALLAN POE · ISAAC BABEL TOMÁS GONZÁLEZ · ULRICH PLENZDORF · JOSEPH KESSEL VELIBOR čOLIĆ · LOUISE DE VILMORIN · MARCEL AYMÉ ALEXANDER PUSHKIN · MAXIM BILLER · JULIEN GRACQ BROTHERS GRIMM · HUGO VON HOFMANNSTHAL GEORGE SAND · PHILIPPE BEAUSSANT · IVÁN REPILA E.T.A. HOFFMANN · ALEXANDER LERNET-HOLENIA YASUSHI INOUE · HENRY JAMES · FRIEDRICH TORBERG ARTHUR SCHNITZLER · ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPÉRY MACHI TAWARA · GAITO GAZDANOV · HERMANN HESSE LOUIS COUPERUS · JAN JACOB SLAUERHOFF PAUL MORAND · MARK TWAIN · PAUL FOURNEL ANTAL SZERB · JONA OBERSKI · MEDARDO FRAILE HÉCTOR ABAD · PETER HANDKE · ERNST WEISS PENELOPE DELTA · RAYMOND RADIGUET · PETR KRÁL ITALO SVEVO · RÉGIS DEBRAY · BRUNO SCHULZ · TEFFI EGON HOSTOVSKÝ · JOHANNES URZIDIL · JÓZEF WITTLIN
Copyright
Pushkin Press
71–75 Shelton Street
London WC2H 9JQ
Original text copyright 1929 by Irina Odoevtseva
English translation © 2019 Bryan Karetnyk and Irina Steinberg
Copyright © 2018 by Anna Golembiovskaia
Introduction © 2019 Bryan Karetnyk
Isolde was first published as Изольда in Paris, 1929
First published by Pushkin Press in 2019
Published with the support of the Institute for Literary Translation (Russia)
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
ISBN 13: 978–1–78227–478–0
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing from Pushkin Press
www.pushkinpress.com