Yulia sprang up from the divan like a cat and caught him by the arm.
“What does this mean? Where are you going?” she asked.
“It’s nothing really, nothing. I just need some sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well lately – that’s all there is to it.”
“‘Haven’t been sleeping well’! Why, only the other morning you told me that you had slept for nine hours, and that it even gave you a headache…”
Another failed attempt.
“Well, I do have a headache,” he said, somewhat embarrassed, “and that’s why I’m leaving.”
“But after dinner you said that your headache had gone.”
“My God! What a memory you have! It’s intolerable! Well, the fact is that I just want to go home.”
“What’s wrong with my place? What’s so special at home?”
She looked him straight in the eye, shaking her head doubtfully. Somehow or other he managed to pacify her and left.
“What if I don’t go to Yulia’s today?” he asked himself when he woke up the next morning.
He paced back and forth three times in the room. “Right! I’m not going,” he said resolutely.
“Yevsei! I want to get dressed,” he called. And he left to walk around the city.
“What a pleasure, just to walk by myself,” he thought, “to go wherever I like, to read the signboards, look in the shop windows, to go here and there… it’s wonderful. That’s it exactly – freedom, in the broadest, highest sense of the word – to walk just by oneself!”
He tapped the stick on the pavement as he walked and greeted his acquaintances cheerfully. As he walked along Morskaya Street, he saw a familiar face in the window of one of the houses. The owner of the face waved to him and invited him in. He looked in. “Well, if it isn’t the Dumais Restaurant!”
He went in, dined and stayed there until the evening, when he left to go to the theatre. After the theatre, he went out to supper. He did his best to avoid thinking about going home; he knew what awaited him there.
And indeed, on returning home, he found some half a dozen messages waiting for him on the table and a sleepy servant in the hall, who had been given orders to wait until Alexander came in. The next day he had to make his excuses. He pleaded some business at the office. And things were more or less smoothed over.
About three days later, the same scenario was played out between the two of them – and was subsequently repeated over and over again. Yulia grew thinner, never went anywhere and received no visitors, but she held her peace, because Alexander did not take kindly to reproaches.
About two weeks later, after Alexander had arranged to fix a day for going out on the town with some friends, on that very morning he received a note from Yulia asking him to spend the whole day with her and to come a little earlier. She wrote that she was not feeling well and was feeling low, and her nerves were suffering, etc. He was annoyed, and went to tell her that he was too busy to stay with her.
“Yes, of course: dinner at Dumais, the theatre and tobogganing – very important business…” she said listlessly.
“What does that mean?” he asked, offended. “It looks as if you’ve been keeping me under surveillance! I won’t stand for that.”
He rose, intending to leave.
“Don’t go! Listen to me!” she said. “We need to talk.”
“I have no time.”
“Just for one minute – sit down.”
He sat reluctantly on the edge of a chair.
With folded arms, she scanned his face anxiously as if trying to read there the answer to the question she had not yet asked.
He was squirming with impatience as he sat.
“Be quick! I don’t have the time!” he said curtly.
She sighed.
“Don’t you love me any more?” she asked, with a little shake of her head.
“That old song!” he said, smoothing his hat with his sleeve.
“And how sick of it you must be!” she replied.
He stood up and began to pace the room rapidly.
After a minute, a sob escaped her.
“That’s all I needed!” he snapped, almost savagely, as he stood facing her. “As if you haven’t tormented me enough!”
“You mean, I’ve been tormenting you!” she exclaimed, sobbing even more bitterly.
“It’s intolerable!” said Alexander, preparing to leave.
“No! I’ll stop, I’ll stop!” she said hurriedly, wiping away her tears. “There! I’ve stopped crying, so please don’t go, and sit down.”
She tried to smile, but could not staunch the flow of tears down her cheeks. Alexander started to feel sorry for her. He sat down and started swinging his leg back and forth. One question after another crowded into his mind, and he came to the conclusion that he had cooled off, and no longer loved Yulia. But why? God knows. She loved him more and more every day – could that be the reason? Good God, what a contradiction! All the conditions for happiness existed. There was nothing to prevent it; it wasn’t even as if another feeling was competing with his love, but he had simply cooled off. How strange life was! But how to comfort Yulia? Sacrifice himself? Drag out endless days of tedium with her – put on an act? No, that would be beyond him; but not putting on an act would mean facing tears every moment of the day, reproaches – a torment for both of them… Could he suddenly introduce Uncle’s theory of betrayal and the ebbing of love? The very idea! Even without that, she was in tears anyway – so what was left?
Yulia, seeing that he had lapsed into silence, took him by the hand and looked into his eyes. He turned slowly away and gently removed his hand. Not only did he feel no attraction to her, but a cold and unpleasant shiver ran through his body at her touch. She redoubled her caresses, but he failed to respond, and his attitude became colder and more morose. She suddenly pulled her hand away and exploded. Her feminine pride, her wounded self-esteem, her shame, all welled up. She raised her head, stood erect, and her face reddened from sheer outrage.
“Leave my house!” she ordered him abruptly.
He turned and left without a word of protest, but as the sound of his footsteps died away, she rushed after him.
“Alexander Fyodorych! Alexander Fyodorych!” she called out.
He turned round.
“Where are you going?”
“But you just told me to leave.”
“And you were only too happy to do so. Stop!”
“I have no time!”
She took him by the hand, and once again poured forth a torrent of loving, passionate speech, pleas and tears.
He could not find within himself a glance, a word or a gesture of sympathy. He stood there like a block of wood, shifting from one foot to another. His cool indifference enraged her. There were floods of threats and reproaches. Who would have recognized in her the meek, nervous woman that she was? Her hair was in disarray; her eyes burned with a feverish glitter; her cheeks were flaming; her features were strangely distorted. “How ugly she is!” thought Alexander, regarding her with visible distaste.
“I will have my revenge,” she said. “Do you think that it’s so easy to get away with toying with a woman’s life? You wormed your way into my heart with flattery, pretence – you took total possession of me – and then abandoned me when I no longer had the power to dismiss you from my memory… No! I will never leave you alone: I will hunt you down wherever you may be. You will never get away from me. If you disappear into the countryside, I’ll find you; if you go abroad, you’ll find me there – anywhere you go, I’ll always be there. I will not part from my happiness so easily. My life means nothing to me now… I have nothing left to lose, but I will poison your life. I will be avenged, I will be avenged – there must be another woman. No, it’s not possible that you have left me just like that… I will find her – just wait and see what I will do:
I’ll make your life a misery! What a pleasure it will be for me to hear of your destruction… I could kill you myself!” she screamed, beside herself with rage and fury.
“How stupid this is! How absurd!” thought Alexander, shrugging his shoulders.
Seeing that Alexander remained indifferent to her threats, she abruptly changed her tone. She quietened down and regarded him sadly and silently.
“Have pity on me!” she said. “Don’t leave me; what will I do now without you? I won’t be able to stand parting with you! Understand that women love differently from men: their love is stronger and more tender. For women love is everything, especially for me. Other women like to flirt; they enjoy being out and about in society; they like the noise and the action. I have never taken to that. My character is different. I love quiet, seclusion, books, music – but more than anything on earth, I love you…”
Alexander could not conceal his impatience.
“Very well, you don’t love me,” she continued spiritedly, “but keep your promise. Marry me, just be with me… you will have your freedom; do whatever you want, love whoever you want. All I ask is to be able to see you sometimes, however rarely. For the love of God, have pity on me, have pity on me!”
She burst into tears, and could not go on. Her passionate outburst had exhausted her, and she flopped onto the divan, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and her mouth was distorted from its convulsions – she was hysterical. It was an hour before she came to herself and recovered. Her chambermaid was attending to her. Yulia looked around. “But where is he?…” she asked.
“He left!”
“Left!” she repeated despairingly, and sat there for a long time in silence and without moving.
The next day, message after message was dispatched to Alexander. He did not come, and sent no reply. It was the same the next day and the day after. Yulia wrote to Pyotr Ivanych, asking him to call on her regarding an important matter. She did not care for his wife, because she was young and attractive, and was Alexander’s aunt.
Pyotr Ivanych found her practically at death’s door, so serious was her condition. He spent two hours with her, and then went to see Alexander.
“So this is the one who’s putting on a great act, yes?”
“What do you mean?” said Alexander.
“Look at him! As if it’s no concern of his! He’s the one who can’t make a woman fall in love with him, and here he is driving this woman crazy!”
“I don’t understand, Uncle.”
“What is there to understand? Of course you understand! I’ve just been to see Tafayeva, and she told me everything.”
“What!” said Alexander in total disarray. “She told you everything!”
“Everything. How much she loves you! Aren’t you a lucky fellow! And here you were in tears because you couldn’t inspire passion; well, here’s passion for you. You should be gratified! She’s out of her mind with jealousy and rage, and sobbing her heart out… but why are you involving me in your affairs? Now you’ve started lumbering me with your women – that was all I needed! I’ve just wasted a whole morning on her. I thought it was going to be some serious business, perhaps about mortgaging the estate through the Board of Guardians… she had once mentioned it… but this is what it turned out to be about – some business!”
“Why did you go to see her?”
“She invited me, and complained about you. You should really be ashamed of yourself. How can you be so callous? You haven’t shown your face for four days. It’s no joke! The poor thing is dying! So, get over there right away!…”
“What did you say to her?”
“The usual: that you love her madly, that you’ve long been searching for a loving heart, that you absolutely love ‘heartfelt outpourings’ and that you too cannot live without love; I told her that she has nothing to worry about, and that you will come back to her. I advised her not to keep you on too tight a rein, and let you have a little fun now and again… otherwise, I said, you will tire of each other. Well, you know, the kind of thing one says on these occasions. She cheered up enormously, and it slipped out that you were supposed to get married, and that even my wife had a hand in all this – but not a word to me; that’s women for you! Anyway, thank God, she’s not without means! So the two of you will manage. I told her that you will definitely keep your promise… I also put in a good word for you out of gratitude for the favour you did me… I assured her that you love her ‘so passionately, so dearly’—”
Alexander’s face fell, and he cut him off. “Why on earth did you do that, Uncle?” he said. “I… I don’t love her any more! I don’t want to get married! My feelings for her have turned ice-cold. I’d sooner throw myself into the river than—”
“Well, well!” said Pyotr Ivanych, feigning surprise. “I can’t believe my ears! Wasn’t it you who said – don’t you remember? – that you despise human nature, especially women’s – that there is no heart in this world worthy of you? And what else was it you said?… I wish I could recall…”
“For the love of God, Uncle, don’t say another word; you’ve reproached me enough: I don’t need another lecture from you. Do you really think I’m so incapable of understanding on my own? My God! People, people!”
He began to laugh out loud, and his uncle joined in.
“Now that’s my boy,” said Pyotr Ivanych. “I knew that one day you’d be able to laugh at yourself – and here you are!”
And they both burst out laughing again.
“So tell me,” Pyotr Ivanych continued, “now what’s your opinion of that… what’s-her-name… Pashenka, is it?… with that wart.”
“Uncle, that’s not nice!”
“No, I just mentioned it to find out whether you still despise her.”
“Leave it alone, for God’s sake, and instead help me to get out of this awful situation. You’re so clever, such a clear thinker…”
“Ah, so now it’s compliments, flattery! No, just go and marry her!”
“Not on your life, Uncle! I’m begging you, help me!”
“Precisely, Alexander; it’s a good thing. I’ve known for ages what you’ve been getting up to…”
“You mean you’ve known all along?”
“Exactly, I’ve known about your affair from the very beginning.”
“I suppose it was my aunt who told you?”
“Certainly not! It was I who told her. It was easy. It was written all over your face. But don’t be upset. I’ve already helped you.”
“How? When?”
“Just this morning. Don’t worry, Tafayeva won’t be bothering you any more…”
“But how did you do it? What did you say to her?”
“It’s a long story, Alexander, and a boring one.”
“But God knows what damaging things you might have said to her. She must hate me, and despise me now…”
“What difference does it make to you? I’ve pacified her – that should be enough for you. I told her that you were incapable of loving someone, and that you were not even worth bothering about…”
“So how is she now?”
“Now she’s actually glad that you’ve left her.”
“What do you mean, ‘glad’?” Alexander enquired.
“Just that: ‘glad’.”
“You mean you didn’t detect in her even a trace of regret, of disappointment? She was totally unmoved? That’s beyond belief!”
He was disturbed, and started to pace back and forth in the room.
“Glad and unmoved!” he repeated. “I don’t believe it. I’m going to see her right now.”
“There’s people for you!” Pyotr Ivanych remarked. “And so much for the heart; a wonderful thing to live by! Wasn’t it you who were afraid that she would come after you? Wasn’t it you who asked for help? And now you’re worried that she may not be dying from her
grief at losing you.”
“Glad and content,” said Alexander as he paced back and forth, paying no attention to his uncle. “So she didn’t love me! No grief, no tears. No, I will go and see her.”
Pyotr Ivanych shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave it like that, Uncle,” Alexander added as he picked up his hat.
“Well then, go back to see her, but if you don’t succeed in disentangling yourself, don’t come back and badger me; I’m not getting involved again. The only reason I intervened in the first place was because it was I who got you into that situation. So that’s it. Now, why are you looking so down in the mouth?”
“I’m ashamed to be living in this world!…” said Alexander with a sigh.
“And to be completely idle.” His uncle added. “Enough of that for now! Come to dinner with us later, and we’ll have a good laugh about this whole episode, and then we’ll take a ride to the factory.”
“How worthless and insignificant I am!” said Alexander after a pause. “I have no heart. I’m despicable, morally destitute!”
“And all because of love!” Pyotr Ivanych said, cutting him off. “What a stupid way of spending your time! You should leave that kind of thing to the Surkovs of this world. But you are a capable fellow, and could make a more valuable contribution. So no more running after women!”
“But you love your wife, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, I’ve become quite accustomed to her, but that doesn’t prevent me from doing my work, Anyway, goodbye for now, and we’ll see you later.”
The Same Old Story Page 29