Olga. Ah! I fancied . . .
Yeletsky. Oh, no, no. . . . We must be more careful in future, that’s all. [After a moment’s reflection.’] However .. I have already taken measures. . . .
Olga. Oh?
Yeletsky. Yes. You see, though it was of no consequence . . . still the servants were there, they saw . . . and heard it all. It was improper ... in a respectable house. . . So I’ve already made arrangements.
Olga. What arrangements?
Yeletsky. Well... do you see... I’ve explained to the old man that it would be unpleasant for him to remain here, in our house, after such a scene, as you call it yourself. . . . He completely agreed with me at once — he is perfectly sober now. . . . Of course, he is a poor man, he has nothing to live on . . . well, he can be given a little room on another estate of yours, a pension, rations. ... He will be quite contented ... of course he shall have everything he wants.
Olga. Paul, it seems to me that for such a trifling matter . . . you are punishing him too severely. ... He has been living here in this house for years. ... He is used to it. . . he’s known me from a child . . . really, I think he might stay here.
Yeletsky. Olya ... no ... there are reasons. .. . Of course, we can’t be hard on the old man . . . especially as he wasn’t himself at the time . . . but all the same, please let me do as I think fit about it. . . . I repeat there are reasons . . . rather important ones.
Olga. As you please.
Yeletsky. Besides, I believe he has packed up all his belongings already.
Olga. But he won’t go away without saying good - bye to me?
Yeletsky. I imagine he will come to say good - bye. But if that’s unpleasant for you, you know — you need not see him. . . .
Olga. On the contrary, I should like to have a few words with him. . . .
Yeletsky. As you like, Olya . . . but I wouldn’t advise you to. . .. You will be distressed, for after all, he’s old, and has known you from a child. . . . And I must own I shouldn’t like to alter my decision. . . .
Olga. Oh, no, don’t be afraid. . . . Only I really expect he’ll go without saying good - bye. . . . Please send and find out about him, whether he has gone already?
Yeletsky. Certainly. Rings.~ Vous fetes jolie comme un ange aujourd’hui.
Pyotr [coming in]. What is your pleasure?
Yeletsky. Go, my lad, and find out whether Mr. Kuzovkin has gone yet. [Glancing at Olga.] And let him come and say good - bye.
Pyotr. Yes, sir. [Goes out.]
Olga. Paul... and I have a favour to ask you.
Yeletsky [caressingly]. Tell me what. . . .
Olga. Please . . . when he . . . Kuzovkin . . . comes, leave me alone with him.
Yeletsky [after a brief pause, with a cold smile]. But I think ... on the contrary ... it will be awkward for you.
Olga. No, please do; I’ve something to say to him . . . I must ask him Yes, I want to talk to him alone.
Yeletsky [looking at her intently]. Why, can you have heard something yesterday?
Olga [looking at her husband with the most innocent expression]. What?
Yeletsky [hurriedly]. Well, as you please, as you please.
Here, I think he’s coming.
[Kuzovkin comes in. He is very pale.~
Olga. Good morning, Vassily Petrovitch. . . . [Kuzovkin bows without speaking.] Good morning. [To Yeletsky.] Eh bien, mon ami? Je vous en prie.
Yeletsky [to his wife]. Oui, oui. [To Kuzovkin.] You are quite ready?
Kuzovkin [with an effort, in a toneless voice]. I’m quite ready.
Yeletsky. Olga Petrovna wants to talk to you a little . . . to say good - bye. ... If there’s anything you want, please tell her. . . . [To Olga.] Au revoir . . . you won’t be with him long, of course?
Olga. I don’t know. ... I expect not.
Yeletsky. Very good. . . [Goes off into the dining - room.]
Olga [sits down on the sofa and motions Kuzovkin to an easy - chair]. Sit down, Vassily Petrovitch.... [Kuzovkin bows, refusing.] I beg you to sit down. [For some time Olga does not know how to begin the conversation.] I hear you are going away!
Kuzovkin [without raising his eyes]. Yes.
Olga. Pavel Nikolaitch was telling me so. . . . I am very sorry, believe me. . . .
Kuzovkin. You mustn’t be troubled. . . . Very grateful. . . . It’s all right.
Olga. In your . . . new home . . . you will be as well off. . . better really ... set your mind at rest . . . I’ll see to that.
Kuzovkin. I’m truly thankful. I feel that ... I don’t deserve. ... A piece of bread . . . and shelter ... is all I should have. [After a brief pause, he gets up.] Now allow me to say good - bye. ... I have been greatly to blame, certainly . . . forgive an old man.
Olga. Why in such a hurry?... Stay a little.
Kuzovkin. As you wish. [Sits down again.’]
Olga [again after a short pause]. Listen, Vassily Petrovitch ... tell me frankly what happened to you yesterday morning?
Kuzovkin. I’m sorry for it, Olga Petrovna, dreadfully sorry.
Olga. But how was it you. ...
Kuzovkin. Please do not ask me about it, Olga Petrovna. . . . It’s not worth it. It was my fault entirely . . . and that’s all. Pavel Nikolaitch is perfectly right. I deserved far worse punishment. ... I shall pray for him all my days.
Olga. I must confess I can’t see how you’re so much to blame. . . . You’re not young . . . most likely you’re not used to wine now . . . you were a little noisy. . . .
Kuzovkin. No, Olga Petrovna, please don’t justify me, I humbly thank you — only I feel how wrong it was.
Olga. Or did you perhaps say something insulting to my husband or Monsieur Tropatchov. . . .
Kuzovkin [looking down]. I am sorry.
Olga [with some emotion]. Tell me, Vassily Petrovitch, do you remember clearly all that you said?
Kuzovkin [startled, looks at Olga, and slowly brings out], I don’t know ... what...
Olga. I’m told you said something. . . .
Kuzovkin [hurriedly]. I talked nonsense, Olga Petrovna, utter nonsense. I said anything that came into my head. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.
Olga. But... I wonder what put it into your head. . . .
Kuzovkin. Goodness knows. Simply madness. I must own I’m quite unused to drinking wine now. So . . . I drank too much. ... So I went and God knows what I babbled. It does happen like that. Still, I am greatly to blame . . . and punished as I deserve, [ft about to get up.] Allow me to say good - bye, Olga Petrovna. . . . Please do not remember evil against me.
Olga. I see you won’t speak openly to me. Don’t be afraid of me. . . . I’m not like Pavel Nikolaitch, you know.
Well, him perhaps you may be afraid of.... You don’t know him. . . He seems severe on the surface. . . . But what are you afraid of me for?. .. Why, you knew me as a child.
Kuzovkin. Olga Petrovna, you have the heart of an angel. . . . Spare a poor old man.
Olga. Oh dear, I didn’t mean to . . .
Kuzovkin. Don’t remind me of your childhood . . . there’s bitterness enough in my heart as it is . . . oh, it is bitter! To have to leave your house in my old age . . . and through my own fault.
Olga. Listen, Vassily Petrovitch, there is still a way to put things right. Only be open with me . . . listen ... I [ Suddenly gets up and moves a little aside.]
Kuzovkin [looking after her]. Don’t be distressed, Olga Petrovna — really, it’s not worth it. I shall pray for you over there, too. And you will sometimes think of me — and say: there’s old Vassily Kuzovkin, he was a man devoted to me. . . .
Olga [turning to Kuzovkin again], Vassily Petrovitch, are you really a man devoted to me, do you really love me?
Kuzovkin. Olga Petrovna, darling, tell me to die for you.
Olga. No, I don’t ask for your death, I want the truth, I want to know the truth.
Kuzovkin. Yes.
Olga. I... I overheard your last exclamation.
/>
Kuzovkin [hardly able to articulate the words]. What . . . exclamation?
Olga. I heard what you said about me. [Ku’zovkin gets up from his chair and falls on his knees.] Was it true?
Kuzovkin [faltering]. Please, mercifully forgive me. Madness — I’ve told you so already. [His voice breaks.
Olga. So, you won’t tell me the truth.
Kuzovkin. Madness, Olga Petrovna, forgive me. . . .
Olga [seizing his hand]. No, no . . . for God’s sake . . . [ call on you in God’s name ... I beseech you, tell me, was it ... true? [A silence.] Why are you torturing me?
Kuzovkin. So you will know the truth?
Olga. Yes. Tell me, was it true?
[Kuzovkin raises his head and looks at Olga. . . . His face expresses an agonizing conflict. All at once he bows his head and whispers: ‘It was true.’ Olga swiftly draws back from him and stands motionless. Kuzovkin hides his face in his hands. The door from the other room opens and Yeletsky walks in. At first he does not notice Kuzovkin, who is still on his knees. He goes up to his wife.]
Yeletsky. Well, so that’s over? [Stops in astonishment.] Ah voila, je vous ai dit . . . He’s been begging your forgiveness. . . .
Olga. Paul, leave us alone. . . .
Yeletsky [hesitating]. Mais, ma chere. . . .
Olga. I beg you, I entreat you, leave us. . . .
Yeletsky [after a short silence]. Very well, only I hope you will explain this mystery. . . . [Olga nods affirmatively, Yeletsky slowly goes out.]
Olga [goes quickly to the door, locks it and returns to Kuzovkin, who is still on his knees]. Get up . . . get up, I tell you.
Kuzovkin [Slowly getting up], Olga Petrovna. . . . [He evidently does not know what to say.]
Olga [motioning him to the sofa]. Sit here. [Kuzovkin sits down. Olga remains at some distance and stands sideways to him.] Vassily Petrovitch .. . you understand my position.
Kuzovkin [faintly], Olga Petrovna, I see . . . I’m really out of my mind. Allow me to go before I do any more harm. I don’t know what I’m saying.
Olga [breathing hard]. No, nonsense, Vassily Petrovitch. The thing’s done now. Now you can’t go back on your words.... You must tell me everything... the whole . . . truth now.
Kuzovkin. But you see I . . .
Olga [rapidly]. Do understand my position and yours . . . I tell you. . . . Either you have slandered my mother . . . in that case, you will please go away and never let me see your face again. . . . [She stretches her hand towards the door. Kuzovkin tries to get up and sinks down again.] Ah! you remain — you see you remain. . .
Kuzovkin [in misery]. Oh my God!
Olga. I want to know all You must tell me everything, do you hear?
Kuzovkin [in despair]. Very well . . . yes . . . you shall know everything . . . since this terrible thing has happened. Only, Olga Petrovna, please don’t look at me like that . . . or I . . . really ... I can’t.
Olga [trying to smile], Vassily Petrovitch, I . . .
Kuzovkin [timidly]. My name ... is Vassily Semyonitch, Olga Petrovna.... [Olga flushes and faintly shrugs her shoulders. She still stands at some distance from Kuzovkin.] Yes . . . well, where am I to begin? . ..
Olga [reddening, in confusion], Vassily Semyonitch, how can you . . . expect me. . . .
Kuzovkin [on the point of tears]. But I can’t speak while you’re like this. . . .
Olga [holding out her hand to him]. Calm yourself . . . speak. ... You see what a state I’m in .. . control yourself.
Kuzovkin. I’ll try, Olga Petrovna dear. Well, where shall I begin? Oh God! . . . Very well, then. I’ll tell you a little first, if I may. . .. Yes, in a minute. ... I was something over twenty then. I was born, I may say, in poverty — and later on was deprived of my last farthing — and quite, I may say, unjustly . . . and besides, I had no sort of education, of course. . . . Your father [Olga shudders] — the Kingdom of Heaven be his! — took compassion on me, or I should have been utterly lost; you live in my house, he said, till I find a post for you. So that was how I came to live with your father. Well, of course, it wasn’t easy to find me a situation — so I just stayed on. At that time the master was unmarried — but about two years after he began courting your mother — and married her. Well, so he began living with your mother . . . and they had two little sons . . . but they both died very soon. And I must tell you, Olga Petrovna, he was a harsh man, terribly harsh, indeed he was — and too free with his fists, and at times when he was in a passion, he didn’t know what he was doing. He drank, too. Otherwise he was a good man and my benefactor. Well, at first he lived happily with your mother. . . . Only not for long. Your mother — the Kingdom of Heaven be hers! — was, one may say, a perfect angel . . . and a beauty, too. . . . But there! It was fate! A certain lady came to live near us about that time. . . . And your father must go and become attached to her. Olga Petrovna, graciously forgive me if I . . .
Olga. Go on.
Kuzovkin. It’s you who insist on it. [Passes his hand over his face.] Oh Lord my God, succour me a sinner! So he became attached to this lady — (plague take her even in the other world!) — began spending every blessed day with her, often did not even come home at night. It was a bad business. Your mother would sit all alone for whole days together, not saying a word; or sometime she’d shed tears. ... I’d sit there, of course, my heart ready to break, and not dare to open my mouth. What good would my foolish words be to her, I thought! The other neighbouring landowners were not very fond of coming to see the old master either; he’d put them all off coming, you may say, by his haughtiness; so your mother hadn’t a soul to speak to. She wouid sit, poor darling, at the window, she wouldn’t even read, but just look out at the high - road into the fields. And meantime — goodness knows why, for nobody dared contradict him — your father’s temper was worse than ever.
He was so violent — it was terrible! And what was strange, too; he took it into his head to be jealous; and who was there to be jealous over, the Lord only knows! He would go out himself and lock her up, he would really. He flew into a rage over every trifle. And the more your mother gave way to him, the more ill - humoured he was to her. At last he quite gave up speaking to her, he abandoned her entirely. Ah! Olga Petrovna! Olga Petrovna! What she had to put up with in those days, your poor mother! You can’t remember her, Olga Petrovna, you were too young, my dear, when she died. There’s not another soul as sweet on earth now. And how she loved your father! He wouldn’t look at her, and she, left without him, would keep talking with me of him, only of him, and how to make things better, how to please him. Suddenly one day he got ready for a journey Where? To Moscow, he said, I’m going alone, on business. Alone, indeed! his lady was waiting for him at the next posting station. And so they went off together and were not heard of for six months, six months, Olga Petrovna! And he didn’t write one letter home all that time! All of a sudden he arrives, but so morose, so angry. . . . His lady had cast him off, as we found out afterwards. He locked himself up in his room and didn’t show himself. All the servants even were wondering. At last your poor mother could bear it no longer. . . . She crossed herself — she had come to be afraid of him, poor dear! — and went in to see him. She began trying to persuade him, but all at once he shouted at her and seizing his stick. . . . [Kuzovkin looks at Olga.] Forgive me, Olga Petrovna.
Olga. You are speaking the truth, Vassily Semyonitch?
Kuzovkin. May God strike me dead on the spot!
Olga. Go on.
Kuzovkin. Well. He... yes! Ah! Olga Petrovna, he cruelly insulted your mother in words . . . and other ways . . . she ran like one crazed to her room, while he called the servants and off into the hunting field. ... So then . . .
then ... it happened. . . . [His voice drops.] I can’t, Olga Petrovna, really I can’t. . . .
Olga [Not looking at him]. Go on! [After a brief silence, impatiently.J Go on!
Kuzovkin. I obey, Olga Petrovna. One must suppose that your poor mother’s mind ga
ve way at the time from that deadly insult, it must have made her ill. ... I can see her as though it were to - day. . . . She went into the ikon room stood before the holy ikons, lifted her hand to make the sign of the Cross, but suddenly turned away and came out . . . she actually laughed softly to herself. . . . The evil one was too strong even for her, it seems. My heart ached looking at her. At dinner she would eat nothing; she would not speak, but looked intently at me ... and in the evening.... In the evening, Olga Petrovna, I used to sit alone with her — here in this very room — sometimes at cards, you know, to pass the time, sometimes a little talk. . . . Well, so, that evening [He begins to be breathless] your poor mother, after a long, long silence, suddenly turned to me. . . . Olga Petrovna, I almost worshipped your mother, and I loved her . . . and all at once she said to me: ‘Vassily Semyonitch, you love me, I know, while he despises me, he has cast me off, he has insulted me. . . . Well, so I too . . .’ Her mind was confused from that insult, Olga Petrovna, she was utterly beside herself. . . . While I ... I... I didn’t know what I was doing, my head was in a whirl . . . it’s dreadful to recall it, she suddenly said to me that evening . . . Olga Petrovna dear, spare an old man! — I can’t — I’d rather cut my tongue out! [Olga turns away and does not speak; Kuzovkin looks at her and goes on rapidly.] The very next day, Olga Petrovna, I was not in the house ... I remember I ran off into the woods at daybreak . . . the very next day, the huntsman galloped into the yard. . . . What was it? The master had fallen off his horse, and was lying unconscious, fatally injured. . . . The very next day, Olga Petrovna, the very next day!... Your mother ordered the carriage at once . ..
A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1 Page 346