“Are you set on returning to your goby fishing?” the zoologist asked.
“No, it’s a little too hot.”
“Come over to my place. You can pack up some things that need to be shipped and some incidentals need to be rewritten. By the way, we can knock around ideas about how to occupy your time. You need to work, Deacon. You can’t just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”
“Your words are fair and logical,” the deacon said, “but my laziness finds excuses in the circumstance surrounding my true calling. You yourself know that an indeterminate situation certainly contributes to people’s apathetic states. Whether I’ve been sent here temporarily or permanently, God alone knows. I live here in uncertainty as my deaconess vegetates at her father’s and longs for me. And, to confess, my brain has spoiled from being left out in the heat.”
“That’s nonsense,” said the zoologist. “You can get used to the heat, and you can get used to being without your deaconess. It’s not worth it to let yourself go. You need to get a hold of yourself.”
V
Nadezhda Fyodorovna was on her way for a morning swim, and behind her with a pitcher, a copper basin, with sheets and a sponge followed her scullery maid, Olga. Off in the harbor stood two unfamiliar steamships with dirty white pipes, evidently foreign cargo ships. Random men in white with white work shoes walked along the wharf and yelled loudly in French, and responses were yelled to them from the steamships. In the town’s small church the bells rang sprightly.
“Today’s Sunday!” Nadezhda Fyodorovna remembered with satisfaction.
She felt herself to be in total good health and was in a cheerful, festive mood. In a spacious new dress, made of rough pongee intended for men’s clothing, and a big straw hat, the wide scope of which was severely bent at the ears, so that her face looked as though it were in a box, she appeared very cute to herself. Her thoughts were on how in the entire town there was but one young, attractive, intelligent woman—that’s her, and that she alone knew how to dress affordably, stylishly and with good taste. For instance, this dress cost only twenty-two rubles, and besides that, it’s adorable! In the entire town, only she was comely, and there were many men, and for this reason they all, willing or not, must envy Laevsky.
She rejoiced that Laevsky had been cold to her in the recent past, maintaining civility though occasionally becoming petulant and rude; previously, she would respond to all his high-jinks and contempt, either cold or strange incomprehensible glares, with tears, reproach and threaten to leave him or starve herself to death; now in reply she would only blush red, look guiltily at him and rejoice that he wasn’t tender to her. If he would scold or threaten her, that would be even better and more pleasant, seeing as how she felt herself to be thoroughly guilty before him. It seemed to her that she was to blame, first, in that she didn’t share his vision of a life of toil, for which he had cast off Petersburg and traveled here to the Caucasus, and she was convinced that he’d been angry with her in the immediate past namely for this reason. When she had set out for the Caucasus, it seemed to her that from day one she would find a secluded corner on the shore, a cozy garden in the shade, with birds and brooks, where she could plant flowers and vegetables, raise ducks and chickens, receive visits from neighbors, heal poor geezers and distribute books to them; it turned out that the Caucasus were nothing but bald mountains, forests and a prodigious expanse, where a long time must be spent selecting, endeavoring, constructing, and that there aren’t any neighbors here, and it’s very hot, and you could get robbed. Laevsky was in no hurry to obtain a plot of land; she was happy about this, and they definitely had both silently agreed to never bring up the subject of a life of toil. He’s gone quiet, she thought, it means that he’s angry at her for having gone quiet.
Second, in the past two years and without his consent, she’d purchased certain odds and ends at the Achmianov Shop adding up to around three hundred rubles. She’d purchased a little at a time, some fabric here, silk there, an umbrella here, and without noticing she had accumulated this debt.
“I’ll tell him about it today …” she decided, but immediately realized that with Laevsky’s current mood it wouldn’t be a bit comfortable to talk to him about debt.
In the third place, she had already twice, in Laevsky’s absence, received Kirilin, the police captain: once in the morning when Laevsky had gone for a swim, and another time at midnight, while he was playing cards. Recalling this, Nadezhda Fyodorovna blushed and looked over at the scullery maid, as though fearing that she could overhear her thoughts. The long, unbearably hot, listless days, the fine tedious evenings, the airless nights, and this whole way of life, when you don’t know from morning to evening how to spend the excess time, and the obsessive thought that she is the youngest and most beautiful woman in town but that she is wasting her youth, and that Laevsky himself is honest and filled with ideas but monotonous, perpetually dragging his shoes, gnawing his fingernails and boring her with his caprices—all this had resulted in her being overwhelmed by desire bit by bit, and she, like a madwoman, thought about one and the same thing day and night. In her own breathing, in her gaze, in the tone of her voice and her gait, she felt nothing but desire; the roar of the sea told her that she must love, as did the evening dusk, as did the mountains, as did … And when Kirilin became solicitous of her, she neither had the strength nor the inclination, and could not refuse, and gave herself to him …
Now the foreign steamships and people in white reminded her of an enormous hall, for some reason; together with the French speech, sounds of a waltz began to ring in her ears, and her chest began to quiver with pointless joy. She wanted to dance and to speak French.
She joyfully realized that there was nothing so terrible in her betrayal. That her soul had played no part in the betrayal; she continued to love Laevsky, and this was evident in that she coveted him, longed for and pined for him, when he was away from home. Kirilin had revealed himself to be so vulgar, though quite attractive; everything had already been broken off with him and there would be nothing further. What there had been had passed, it was no one else’s business, and even if Laevsky did find out, he would never believe it.
There was only one bathhouse for women on the shore, seeing as how the men swam in the open air. Entering the bathhouse, Nadezhda Fyodorovna encountered the matronly dame, Maria Konstantinovna Bityugova, the wife of a civil servant, and her fifteen-year-old daughter, Katya, a pupil at the gymnasium. Both sat undressing on a little bench. Maria Konstantinovna was a kind, enthusiastic and delicate personage, who spoke with largo and pathos. She had lived as a governess until the age of thirty-two, then married the civil servant Bityugov, a small, bald man who swept his hair up at the temples and was generally very agreeable. Even now, she was still in love with him, grew jealous easily, blushed at the mention of the word “love” and assured everyone that she was very happy.
“My dear!” she said enthusiastically, seeing Nadezhda Fyodorovna, donning a look onto her face that all of her acquaintances referred to as almond infusion. “Darling, how pleasant it is that you’ve come! We shall all swim together—how enchanting!”
Olga quickly threw off her own dress and shift and began undressing her mistress.
“Today’s weather isn’t as hot as yesterday’s, isn’t that true?” Nadezhda Fyodorovna said, shrugging from the rough touch of the naked scullery maid. “Yesterday, I nearly died from stuffiness.”
“Oh yes, my darling! I nearly suffocated myself. If you can believe it, yesterday I bathed three times … Can you imagine, darling, three times! Even Nikodim Aleksandrich was worried.”
Well, can they really be so unattractive? thought Nadezhda Fyodorovna, looking over at Olga and the civil servant’s wife; she glanced at Katya and thought, That girl’s stacked all right. “Your Nikodim Aleksandrich is very, very sweet,” she said. “I’m simply in love with him.”
“Ha-ha-ha!” Maria Konstantinovna gave an obligatory laugh. “That’s enchanting!”
&n
bsp; Freed from her clothing, Nadezhda Fyodorovna felt a longing to fly. And it seemed to her that if she flapped her arms, she would certainly fly up and away. Once undressed, she noticed that Olga was fastidiously looking at her white body. Olga, that young soldier’s wife, considered herself to be better and loftier because she lived with a lawful husband. Nadezhda Fyodorovna felt the same, in that Maria Konstantinovna and Katya did not respect but feared her. This was unpleasant, and, so as to raise herself in their esteem, she said:
“In Petersburg, our dacha scene is in full swing right now. Both my husband and I have so many acquaintances! We really should go visit and see everyone.”
“Your husband seems to be an engineer?” Maria Konstantinovna asked timidly.
“I’m referring to Laevsky. He has so many acquaintances. Although, unfortunately, his mother, the proud aristocrat, a dim-witted …”
Nadezhda Fyodorovna did not complete her thought and threw herself into the water; Maria Konstantinovna and Katya crept in after her.
“There is so much prejudice in the world,” continued Nadezhda Fyodorovna, “and living isn’t as easy as it seems.”
Maria Konstantinovna, who had served as a governess to aristocratic families and knew the ways of the world, said:
“Oh yes! Believe it, darling, the Garatinskys demanded formal dress for breakfast and dinner without fail, so that, just like an actress, I received a special allowance for my wardrobe in addition to my salary.”
She stood between Nadezhda Fyodorovna and Katya as though to block her daughter from the waters that washed over Nadezhda Fyodorovna. Through an open door leading out to sea, someone was seen swimming one hundred steps away from the bathhouse.
“Mama, that’s our Kostya!” Katya said.
“Oh my, oh my!” Maria Konstantinovna began to cluck in fright. “Oh my! Kostya,” she began to yell, “go back! Kostya, go back!”
Kostya, a boy of fourteen, so as to show off his bravery in front of his mother and sister, dove and swam farther, but grew weary and hurried back, and by his serious, strained face it was evident that he was doubting his own strength.
“Mischief comes with boys, darling!” Maria Konstantinovna said, beginning to calm down. “Look away for one second, and he’ll break his neck. Oh, darling, how pleasant and at the same time how difficult it is to be a mother! You’re fearful of everything!”
Nadezhda Fyodorovna adjusted her straw hat and cast herself out to sea. She swam about four fathoms then floated on her back. She could see the sea to the horizon, the steamships, people on shore, the town, and all of this along with the sultriness and the transparent gentle waves vexed her and whispered to her that she must live, live … A sailboat rushed past her quickly, energetically slicing through waves and air. The man sitting at the wheel glanced at her, and she found being glanced at pleasant …
Having bathed, the women dressed and set off together.
“I’m liable to come down with a fever in a day’s time, and what’s more, I’m not getting any thinner,” Nadezhda Fyodorovna said, licking her lips, salty from bathing and responding with a smile to acquaintances’ nods of greeting. “I’ve always been full-figured, and now it seems that I’ve grown even fuller.”
“That, darling, is your disposition. If someone is not predisposed toward being full-figured, like myself for instance, then no sort of food will change that. By the way, darling, you’ve soaked your hat.”
“It’s nothing, it will dry.”
Nadezhda Fyodorovna saw the people in white again, walking along the embankment and conversing in French—and for some reason she felt happiness flutter in her chest again as she dimly recalled some large hall in which she’d once danced, or of which she’d perhaps even once dreamed. And something in the very depths of her soul restlessly and remotely whispered to her that she was a minor, vulgar, trashy, insignificant woman …
Stopping near her own gate, Maria Konstantinovna invited her to come in and sit awhile.
“Come in, my dear!” she said in an imploring voice while simultaneously looking at Nadezhda Fyodorovna with apprehension and hope: Maybe she’ll refuse and won’t come in!
“Happily!” agreed Nadezhda Fyodorovna. “You know how much I love visiting you!”
And she entered the home. Maria Konstantinovna sat her down, gave her coffee, fed her shortbread, then showed her photographs of the children she’d raised in the past—the young Miss Garatinskys, who had already married—and she showed her Katya’s and Kostya’s exam grades as well. The grades were very good, but so that they appeared to be even better, sighing, she lamented about how difficult it is to study at the gymnasium nowadays … She attended to her guest and, at the same time, felt regret and suffered from the thought that Nadezhda Fyodorovna’s very presence might have a dumbing influence on the morality of Kostya and Katya, and took heart that her Nikodim Aleksandrich was not at home. Since, in her opinion, all men love that kind of woman, Nadezhda Fyodorovna may have a dumbing influence on Nikodim Aleksandrich.
The entire time she was speaking with her guest, Maria Konstantinovna remembered that there was to be a picnic that evening and that Von Koren had earnestly requested that the macaques—that is, Laevsky and Nadezhda Fyodorovna—not be told of it, but she inadvertently blurted it out, turned completely red and said in embarrassment:
“I hope that you’ll be there too!”
VI
They’d agreed to travel seven versts from the town heading south, stopping near the dukhan, at the convergence of two rivers—the Black and the Yellow—and stew ukha there. They’d set out at the top of the sixth hour. Samoylenko and Laevsky rode ahead of everyone, in a charabanc; behind them, in a carriage harnessed to a troika, were Maria Konstantinovna, Nadezhda Fyodorovna, Katya and Kostya, a basket of provisions and dishes with them. In the next carriage rode police captain Kirilin and young Achmianov, son of that very same shop owner whom Nadezhda Fyodorovna owed three hundred rubles to, and across from them, on a little bench, squirming with his knees at his chest, sat Nikodim Aleksandrich, small, neat, with his hair swept up at the temples. Behind everyone else rode Von Koren and the deacon; at the deacon’s feet stood the basket of fish.
“To the rrright!” Samoylenko yelled, whenever an oxcart or an Abkhazian atop a donkey crossed their path.
“In two years’ time, when I’ve raised the funds and the people, I’ll set off on an expedition,” Von Koren was telling the deacon. “I’ll walk the shore from Vladivostok to the Bering Straits and then from the Straits to the estuary of the Yenisei. We’ll draw a map, learn the flora and fauna and will study the geology comprehensively, the anthropological and ethnographical population. It’s up to you to decide whether you’re traveling with me or not.”
“It isn’t possible,” the deacon said.
“Why?”
“I’m a man whom others depend on, a family man.”
“The deaconess will let you go. We’ll make provisions for her. It would be even better if you’d convince her that it would be in everyone’s best interest for her to cut her hair and join a convent; this would give you the opportunity to cut your own hair and travel with the expedition as a monk. I can arrange this for you.”
The deacon was silent.
“Do you know your theology well?” asked the zoologist.
“Not too good.”
“Hmmm … I can’t give you any advice about that, because I too am poorly acquainted with theology. You’ll give me a little list of books that you require, and I’ll send them to you from Petersburg this winter. You’ll also have to read the journals of theologian travelers; you’ll find good ethnologies and a connoisseurship of the Eastern languages among them. Once you’ve acquainted yourself with their ways, you’ll find it easier to apply yourself to the task at hand. Well, since you don’t have books yet, so as not to waste time, come visit me, and we’ll occupy ourselves with the compass, we’ll explore meteorology. This is all vital.”
“And that’ll be that …” m
uttered the deacon, and began laughing. “I requested a position in the middle of Russia, and my uncle the archpriest promised to accommodate me. Don’t you see that if I go with you, I would have troubled them for no reason at all.”
“I don’t understand your hesitation. To continue being an ordinary deacon who is only required to serve on the holidays, while the rest of your days are spent idling away the time, you’ll remain exactly as you are in ten years’ time, the same person that you are right now, and the only new addition to you will be whiskers and a beard perhaps. Whereas, in that very same ten years’ time as someone returning from an expedition, you’ll be a new man, your consciousness will be enriched by the thing or two that you’ve accomplished.”
Screams of shock and excitement could be heard coming from the women’s carriage. The carriages drove along a road that fell away to a completely vertical cliff down to the shore, and it seemed to everyone that they were galloping along a narrow shelf, situated upon a high wall, and at that very minute the carriages would fall away into nothingness. On the right, the sea was outspread. On the left, a jagged brown wall with black spots, red sinew and creeping roots, while above, certainly out of fear and curiosity, tufts of acerose foliage bent over, peering down below. In another minute more shrieks and laughter: they had to pass beneath a gargantuan hanging rock.
“I don’t understand why the hell I’m riding with you all,” said Laevsky. “How foolish and trivial! I need to go north, to run, I should be saving myself, but for some reason, I’m going on this ridiculous picnic.”
“Will you just look at that panorama!” Samoylenko said to him, when the horses had turned left and the Yellow River Valley opened before them, and the river itself sparkled, yellow, turbid, insane …
“Sasha, I don’t see the good in this,” answered Laevsky. “To be perpetually excited by nature is to reveal the poverty of your own imagination. Compared to what my imagination has to offer, all of these little streams and cliffs are rubbish and nothing more.”
The Duel Page 4