A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1

by Ivan Turgenev

‘I spoke of a moderate price for my land,’ he went on, ‘because as you are abroad just now, I can hardly suppose you have a great deal of cash available, and in fact, I feel myself that the sale … the purchase of my land, under such conditions is something exceptional, and I ought to take that into consideration.’

  Sanin got confused, and lost the thread of what he was saying, while Maria Nikolaevna softly leaned back in her easy - chair, folded her arms, and watched him with the same attentive bright look. He was silent at last.

  ‘Never mind, go on, go on,’ she said, as it were coming to his aid;

  ‘I’m listening to you. I like to hear you; go on talking.’

  Sanin fell to describing his estate, how many acres it contained, and where it was situated, and what were its agricultural advantages, and what profit could be made from it … he even referred to the picturesque situation of the house; while Maria Nikolaevna still watched him, and watched more and more intently and radiantly, and her lips faintly stirred, without smiling: she bit them. He felt awkward at last; he was silent a second time.

  ‘Dimitri Pavlovitch’ began Maria Nikolaevna, and sank into thought again…. ‘Dimitri Pavlovitch,’ she repeated…. ‘Do you know what: I am sure the purchase of your estate will be a very profitable transaction for me, and that we shall come to terms; but you must give me two days…. Yes, two days’ grace. You are able to endure two days’ separation from your betrothed, aren’t you? Longer I won’t keep you against your will — I give you my word of honour. But if you want five or six thousand francs at once, I am ready with great pleasure to let you have it as a loan, and then we’ll settle later.’

  Sanin got up. ‘I must thank you, Maria Nikolaevna, for your kindhearted and friendly readiness to do a service to a man almost unknown to you. But if that is your decided wish, then I prefer to await your decision about my estate — I will stay here two days.’

  ‘Yes; that is my wish, Dimitri Pavlovitch. And will it be very hard for you? Very? Tell me.’

  ‘I love my betrothed, Maria Nikolaevna, and to be separated from her is hard for me.’

  ‘Ah! you’re a heart of gold!’ Maria Nikolaevna commented with a sigh.

  ‘I promise not to torment you too much. Are you going?’

  ‘It is late,’ observed Sanin.

  ‘And you want to rest after your journey, and your game of “fools” with my husband. Tell me, were you a great friend of Ippolit Sidorovitch, my husband?’

  ‘We were educated at the same school.’

  ‘And was he the same then?’

  ‘The same as what?’ inquired Sanin. Maria Nikolaevna burst out laughing, and laughed till she was red in the face; she put her handkerchief to her lips, rose from her chair, and swaying as though she were tired, went up to Sanin, and held out her hand to him.

  He bowed over it, and went towards the door.

  ‘Come early to - morrow — do you hear?’ she called after him. He looked back as he went out of the room, and saw that she had again dropped into an easy - chair, and flung both arms behind her head. The loose sleeves of her tea - gown fell open almost to her shoulders, and it was impossible not to admit that the pose of the arms, that the whole figure, was enchantingly beautiful.

  XXXVI

  Long after midnight the lamp was burning in Sanin’s room. He sat down to the table and wrote to ‘his Gemma.’ He told her everything; he described the Polozovs — husband and wife — but, more than all, enlarged on his own feelings, and ended by appointing a meeting with her in three days!!! (with three marks of exclamation). Early in the morning he took this letter to the post, and went for a walk in the garden of the Kurhaus, where music was already being played. There were few people in it as yet; he stood before the arbour in which the orchestra was placed, listened to an adaptation of airs from ‘Robert le Diable,’ and after drinking some coffee, turned into a solitary side walk, sat down on a bench, and fell into a reverie. The handle of a parasol gave him a rapid, and rather vigorous, thump on the shoulder. He started…. Before him in a light, grey - green barége dress, in a white tulle hat, and suède gloves, stood Maria Nikolaevna, fresh and rosy as a summer morning, though the languor of sound unbroken sleep had not yet quite vanished from her movements and her eyes.

  ‘Good - morning,’ she said. ‘I sent after you to - day, but you’d already gone out. I’ve only just drunk my second glass — they’re making me drink the water here, you know — whatever for, there’s no telling … am I not healthy enough? And now I have to walk for a whole hour. Will you be my companion? And then we’ll have some coffee.’

  ‘I’ve had some already,’ Sanin observed, getting up; ‘but I shall be very glad to have a walk with you.’

  ‘Very well, give me your arm then; don’t be afraid: your betrothed is not here — she won’t see you.’

  Sanin gave a constrained smile. He experienced a disagreeable sensation every time Maria Nikolaevna referred to Gemma. However, he made haste to bend towards her obediently…. Maria Nikolaevna’s arm slipped slowly and softly into his arm, and glided over it, and seemed to cling tight to it.

  ‘Come — this way,’ she said to him, putting up her open parasol over her shoulder. ‘I’m quite at home in this park; I will take you to the best places. And do you know what? (she very often made use of this expression), we won’t talk just now about that sale, we’ll have a thorough discussion of that after lunch; but you must tell me now about yourself … so that I may know whom I have to do with. And afterwards, if you like, I will tell you about myself. Do you agree?’

  ‘But, Maria Nikolaevna, what interest can there be for you …’

  ‘Stop, stop. You don’t understand me. I don’t want to flirt with you.’ Maria Nikolaevna shrugged her shoulders. ‘He’s got a betrothed like an antique statue, is it likely I am going to flirt with him? But you’ve something to sell, and I’m the purchaser. I want to know what your goods are like. Well, of course, you must show what they are like. I don’t only want to know what I’m buying, but whom I’m buying from. That was my father’s rule. Come, begin … come, if not from childhood — come now, have you been long abroad? And where have you been up till now? Only don’t walk so fast, we’re in no hurry.’

  ‘I came here from Italy, where I spent several months.’

  ‘Ah, you feel, it seems, a special attraction towards everything Italian. It’s strange you didn’t find your lady - love there. Are you fond of art? of pictures? or more of music?’

  ‘I am fond of art…. I like everything beautiful.’

  ‘And music?’

  ‘I like music too.’

  ‘Well, I don’t at all. I don’t care for anything but Russian songs — and that in the country and in the spring — with dancing, you know … red shirts, wreaths of beads, the young grass in the meadows, the smell of smoke … delicious! But we weren’t talking of me. Go on, tell me.’

  Maria Nikolaevna walked on, and kept looking at Sanin. She was tall — her face was almost on a level with his face.

  He began to talk — at first reluctantly, unskilfully — but afterwards he talked more freely, chattered away in fact. Maria Nikolaevna was a very good listener; and moreover she seemed herself so frank, that she led others unconsciously on to frankness. She possessed that great gift of ‘intimateness’ — le terrible don de la familiarité — to which Cardinal Retz refers. Sanin talked of his travels, of his life in Petersburg, of his youth…. Had Maria Nikolaevna been a lady of fashion, with refined manners, he would never have opened out so; but she herself spoke of herself as a ‘good fellow,’ who had no patience with ceremony of any sort; it was in those words that she characterised herself to Sanin. And at the same time this ‘good fellow’ walked by his side with feline grace, slightly bending towards him, and peeping into his face; and this ‘good fellow’ walked in the form of a young feminine creature, full of the tormenting, fiery, soft and seductive charm, of which — for the undoing of us poor weak sinful men — only Slav natures are possessed, an
d but few of them, and those never of pure Slav blood, with no foreign alloy. Sanin’s walk with Maria Nikolaevna, Sanin’s talk with Maria Nikolaevna lasted over an hour. And they did not stop once; they kept walking about the endless avenues of the park, now mounting a hill and admiring the view as they went, and now going down into the valley, and getting hidden in the thick shadows, — and all the while arm - in - arm. At times Sanin felt positively irritated; he had never walked so long with Gemma, his darling Gemma … but this lady had simply taken possession of him, and there was no escape! ‘Aren’t you tired?’ he said to her more than once. ‘I never get tired,’ she answered. Now and then they met other people walking in the park; almost all of them bowed — some respectfully, others even cringingly. To one of them, a very handsome, fashionably dressed dark man, she called from a distance with the best Parisian accent, ‘Comte, vous savez, il ne faut pas venir me voir — ni aujourd’hui ni demain.’ The man took off his hat, without speaking, and dropped a low bow.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Sanin with the bad habit of asking questions characteristic of all Russians.

  ‘Oh, a Frenchman, there are lots of them here … He’s dancing attendance on me too. It’s time for our coffee, though. Let’s go home; you must be hungry by this time, I should say. My better half must have got his eye - peeps open by now.’

  ‘Better half! Eye - peeps!’ Sanin repeated to himself … ‘And speaks

  French so well … what a strange creature!’

  * * * * *

  Maria Nikolaevna was not mistaken. When she went back into the hotel with Sanin, her ‘better half or ‘dumpling’ was already seated, the invariable fez on his head, before a table laid for breakfast.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you!’ he cried, making a sour face. ‘I was on the point of having coffee without you.’

  ‘Never mind, never mind,’ Maria Nikolaevna responded cheerfully. ‘Are you angry? That’s good for you; without that you’d turn into a mummy altogether. Here I’ve brought a visitor. Make haste and ring! Let us have coffee — the best coffee — in Saxony cups on a snow - white cloth!’

  She threw off her hat and gloves, and clapped her hands.

  Polozov looked at her from under his brows.

  ‘What makes you so skittish to - day, Maria Nikolaevna?’ he said in an undertone.

  ‘That’s no business of yours, Ippolit Sidoritch! Ring! Dimitri Pavlovitch, sit down and have some coffee for the second time. Ah, how nice it is to give orders! There’s no pleasure on earth like it!’

  ‘When you’re obeyed,’ grumbled her husband again.

  ‘Just so, when one’s obeyed! That’s why I’m so happy! Especially with you. Isn’t it so, dumpling? Ah, here’s the coffee.’

  On the immense tray, which the waiter brought in, there lay also a playbill. Maria Nikolaevna snatched it up at once.

  ‘A drama!’ she pronounced with indignation, ‘a German drama. No matter; it’s better than a German comedy. Order a box for me — baignoire — or no … better the Fremden - Loge,’ she turned to the waiter. ‘Do you hear: the Fremden - Loge it must be!’

  ‘But if the Fremden - Loge has been already taken by his excellency, the director of the town (seine Excellenz der Herr Stadt - Director),’ the waiter ventured to demur.

  ‘Give his excellency ten thalers, and let the box be mine! Do you hear!’

  The waiter bent his head humbly and mournfully.

  ‘Dimitri Pavlovitch, you will go with me to the theatre? the German actors are awful, but you will go … Yes? Yes? How obliging you are! Dumpling, are you not coming?

  ‘You settle it,’ Polozov observed into the cup he had lifted to his lips.

  ‘Do you know what, you stay at home. You always go to sleep at the theatre, and you don’t understand much German. I’ll tell you what you’d better do, write an answer to the overseer — you remember, about our mill … about the peasants’ grinding. Tell him that I won’t have it, and I won’t and that’s all about it! There’s occupation for you for the whole evening.’

  ‘All right,’ answered Polozov.

  ‘Well then, that’s first - rate. You’re a darling. And now, gentlemen, as we have just been speaking of my overseer, let’s talk about our great business. Come, directly the waiter has cleared the table, you shall tell me all, Dimitri Pavlovitch, about your estate, what price you will sell it for, how much you want paid down in advance, everything, in fact! (At last, thought Sanin, thank God!) You have told me something about it already, you remember, you described your garden delightfully, but dumpling wasn’t here…. Let him hear, he may pick a hole somewhere! I’m delighted to think that I can help you to get married, besides, I promised you that I would go into your business after lunch, and I always keep my promises, isn’t that the truth, Ippolit Sidoritch?’

  Polozov rubbed his face with his open hand. ‘The truth’s the truth.

  You don’t deceive any one.’

  ‘Never! and I never will deceive any one. Well, Dimitri Pavlovitch, expound the case as we express it in the senate.’

  XXXVII

  Sanin proceeded to expound his case, that is to say, again, a second time, to describe his property, not touching this time on the beauties of nature, and now and then appealing to Polozov for confirmation of his ‘facts and figures.’ But Polozov simply gasped and shook his head, whether in approval or disapproval, it would have puzzled the devil, one might fancy, to decide. However, Maria Nikolaevna stood in no need of his aid. She exhibited commercial and administrative abilities that were really astonishing! She was familiar with all the ins - and - outs of farming; she asked questions about everything with great exactitude, went into every point; every word of hers went straight to the root of the matter, and hit the nail on the head. Sanin had not expected such a close inquiry, he had not prepared himself for it. And this inquiry lasted for fully an hour and a half. Sanin experienced all the sensations of the criminal on his trial, sitting on a narrow bench confronted by a stern and penetrating judge. ‘Why, it’s a cross - examination!’ he murmured to himself dejectedly. Maria Nikolaevna kept laughing all the while, as though it were a joke; but Sanin felt none the more at ease for that; and when in the course of the ‘cross - examination’ it turned out that he had not clearly realised the exact meaning of the words ‘repartition’ and ‘tilth,’ he was in a cold perspiration all over.

  ‘Well, that’s all right!’ Maria Nikolaevna decided at last. ‘I know your estate now … as well as you do. What price do you suggest per soul?’ (At that time, as every one knows, the prices of estates were reckoned by the souls living as serfs on them.)

  ‘Well … I imagine … I could not take less than five hundred roubles for each,’ Sanin articulated with difficulty. O Pantaleone, Pantaleone, where were you! This was when you ought to have cried again, ‘Barbari!’

  Maria Nikolaevna turned her eyes upwards as though she were calculating.

  ‘Well?’ she said at last. ‘I think there’s no harm in that price. But I reserved for myself two days’ grace, and you must wait till to - morrow. I imagine we shall come to an arrangement, and then you will tell me how much you want paid down. And now, basta cosi!’ she cried, noticing Sanin was about to make some reply. ‘We’ve spent enough time over filthy lucre … à demain les affaires. Do you know what, I’ll let you go now … (she glanced at a little enamelled watch, stuck in her belt) … till three o’clock … I must let you rest. Go and play roulette.’

  ‘I never play games of chance,’ observed Sanin.

  ‘Really? Why, you’re a paragon. Though I don’t either. It’s stupid throwing away one’s money when one’s no chance. But go into the gambling saloon, and look at the faces. Very comic ones there are there. There’s one old woman with a rustic headband and a moustache, simply delicious! Our prince there’s another, a good one too. A majestic figure with a nose like an eagle’s, and when he puts down a thaler, he crosses himself under his waistcoat. Read the papers, go a walk, do what you like, in fact. But a
t three o’clock I expect you … de pied ferme. We shall have to dine a little earlier. The theatre among these absurd Germans begins at half - past six. She held out her hand. ‘Sans rancune, n’est - ce pas?’

  ‘Really, Maria Nikolaevna, what reason have I to be annoyed?’

  ‘Why, because I’ve been tormenting you. Wait a little, you’ll see. There’s worse to come,’ she added, fluttering her eyelids, and all her dimples suddenly came out on her flushing cheeks. ‘Till we meet!’

  Sanin bowed and went out. A merry laugh rang out after him, and in the looking - glass which he was passing at that instant, the following scene was reflected: Maria Nikolaevna had pulled her husband’s fez over his eyes, and he was helplessly struggling with both hands.

  XXXVIII

  Oh, what a deep sigh of delight Sanin heaved, when he found himself in his room! Indeed, Maria Nikolaevna had spoken the truth, he needed rest, rest from all these new acquaintances, collisions, conversations, from this suffocating atmosphere which was affecting his head and his heart, from this enigmatical, uninvited intimacy with a woman, so alien to him! And when was all this taking place? Almost the day after he had learnt that Gemma loved him, after he had become betrothed to her. Why, it was sacrilege! A thousand times he mentally asked forgiveness of his pure chaste dove, though he could not really blame himself for anything; a thousand times over he kissed the cross she had given him. Had he not the hope of bringing the business, for which he had come to Wiesbaden, to a speedy and successful conclusion, he would have rushed off headlong, back again, to sweet Frankfort, to that dear house, now his own home, to her, to throw himself at her loved feet…. But there was no help for it! The cup must be drunk to the dregs, he must dress, go to dinner, and from there to the theatre…. If only she would let him go to - morrow!

  One other thing confounded him, angered him; with love, with tenderness, with grateful transport he dreamed of Gemma, of their life together, of the happiness awaiting him in the future, and yet this strange woman, this Madame Polozov persistently floated — no! not floated, poked herself, so Sanin with special vindictiveness expressed it — poked herself in and faced his eyes, and he could not rid himself of her image, could not help hearing her voice, recalling her words, could not help being aware even of the special scent, delicate, fresh and penetrating, like the scent of yellow lilies, that was wafted from her garments. This lady was obviously fooling him, and trying in every way to get over him … what for? what did she want? Could it be merely the caprice of a spoiled, rich, and most likely unprincipled woman? And that husband! What a creature he was! What were his relations with her? And why would these questions keep coming into his head, when he, Sanin, had really no interest whatever in either Polozov or his wife? Why could he not drive away that intrusive image, even when he turned with his whole soul to another image, clear and bright as God’s sunshine? How, through those almost divine features, dare those others force themselves upon him? And not only that; those other features smiled insolently at him. Those grey, rapacious eyes, those dimples, those snake - like tresses, how was it all that seemed to cleave to him, and to shake it all off, and fling it away, he was unable, had not the power?