A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1

by Ivan Turgenev

  Vilitski: Yes, yes, you told me that. What did you say to him? That I

  Mitka: I told him that you were out of town; that you had gone away on business, so to say.

  Vilitski: And what did he say?

  Mitka: He was surprised. He didn’t know that you had business, nor why you went away so suddenly, without saying a word to them. Then he said that he had asked about you in the office and nobody there knew anything about it, so he concluded that it wasn’t on official business. He was very uneasy about it. He even asked whether you had hired a vehicle from the stand or the post - chaise; and whether you had taken enough underclothing, etc. He was very uneasy.

  Vilitski: What did you tell him?

  Mitka: I told him what you told me to tell him. “I don’t know where the boss has gone; only he went with friends, — that means, that he has gone out of town for a good time, and they expect his return ‘most any hour.” He thought for a while, then he went away. And since then he has come every day to find out what he can. Day before yesterday, he was even here twice. Yesterday, he waited for an hour and a half in your room. He was waiting for you. Then he left a note.

  Vilitski: Yes, I have read that. Now listen. If Mikhail Ivanych should come to - day, tell him that I returned and went away again, but that I will be in to see him to - day, positively. Do you hear me? Positively. Go, and get my uniform ready.

  Mitka [going away smilingly]: He even asked of the janitor; he asked him if he didn’t know where Petr Ilich had gone to.

  Vilitski: What did the janitor say?

  Mitka: The janitor said that he didn’t know, only that he thought that you were not at home, that’s all.

  Vilitski [after a moment’s silence]: Well, go. [Mitka goes out. Vilitski commences to pace the room.] How childish! And what a foolish thought, to hide myself, as though it were possible to hide myself forever. Now, I’ll have to lie about it and invent stories. It will be hard to fool the old man. Everything will come out. It’s pretty bad, pretty bad. [Stops a moment.] And what on earth has possessed me? Why do I feel a chill all over me? As soon as I think that I am going to go there? I am going to get married in a few days! And everything about that is settled; I have given my word. Moreover, I have nothing against it. [Shrugs his shoulders.] It is surprising, I confess. I never foresaw a situation like this. [Sits down again.] That dinner! That dinner! I shall never forget that dinner as long as I live. And what ailed Masha? She isn’t a foolish girl; of course, she isn’t a foolish girl. But she couldn’t say a single word; positively, not a single word. Fonk tried this way and that way and another way and every which way, but she sat there as if she were mummified. “Yes, I am very glad ...” I blushed for her all the while. I can’t look Fonk straight in the face now, so help me God! It seems to me as if he is laughing at me all the time; and he has good reason for it. Surely, being a polite man, he wouldn’t express his full opinion of the matter. [Short pause.] She is timid, bashful; she has never seen enough of the world. Surely, she has had no one from whom to learn the necessary manners; she couldn’t have learned them from Mikhail Ivanych. But she is so kind; she loves me so much. . . . Yes, and I love her. [Warmly.] Did I ever say that I didn’t love her? Only that . . . [Another short pause.] I quite agree with Fonk: education is a very important thing, a very important thing. Yes, I’ll go there to - day. [Throws down the book.] Oh, how bad things are! [Mitka enters.] What do you want?

  Mitka [giving him a letter]: A letter, sir.

  Vilitski [looking at the hand - writing]: Oh, all right. Go. [Mitka goes out. Vilitski opens the letter quickly.] From Masha. [Reads to himself, and then, having finished, puts his hands on his knees.] What exaggeration! To what purpose? [Gets up and reads aloud.] “You don’t love me any more! That’s clear to me now.” How many times has that been written? “Don’t feel yourself bound; we are both still free. I have noticed in you for some time, a gradual cooling off towards me.” That’s not true! “Although externally, you haven’t changed any . . . but now, I think it has become harder for you to pretend. And what for? It was said that you had gone out of town. Is that true? It is apparent that you are afraid to meet me. At any rate, I would like to have an understanding with you. Your devoted . . .” and so on, and so on. “When you have returned, you will find this letter. Come to see us, not for my sake, but for the sake of the old man, who is losing his mind, on account of it. If I am making a mistake, and if I am vexing you with my letter, pardon me. But your last visit . . . Good - bye.” [Somewhat agitated.] Why all this? What for? How shameful it is — everlasting misunderstandings. This is a great prospect for the future! Well, I must admit, that I am wrong. I haven’t been there for five successive days. But why draw such dark conclusions from it, in such a solemn tone? [Looks at the letter again and shakes his head.] There is more selfishness in it than love. Eeal love doesn’t express itself that way. [Short silence.] However, I must go to see them to - day. I am guilty before her. [Paces the room again.] I will go to see them right now, before I go to the office. It’s on the way, anyway. Yes, yes, I am positively going. [Stops.] Yes. It will be rather awkward to begin with . . . but, there is nothing else to be done about it.

  noise is heard in the vestibule. He listens to it, and puts the letter in his pocket. Mitka enters.]

  Mitka: Mr. Fonk has come. He wants to see you. He has another man with him.

  Vilitski [after a short silence]: Ask them in.

  [Mitka goes out. Fonk and Sozomenos enter. Vilit - ski goes to meet them.]

  Vilitski: How glad I am

  Fonk [pressing his hand]: Petr Ilich! Permit me to make you acquainted with one of my friends — [Vilitski and Sozomenos bow to one another.] Perhaps you have heard of the name, — Mr. Sozomenos?

  Vilitski: I have, I have.

  Fonk: I am quite sure that you will like each other.

  Vilitski: I don’t doubt

  Fonk: He busies himself with literature, and is meeting with great success.

  Vilitski [respectfully]: Aha!

  Fonk: He hasn’t had anything published yet, but he showed me a story a couple of days ago — a most beautiful composition! Especially the style; it is excellent.

  Vilitski [to Sozomenos]: May I know the title?

  Sozomenos [abruptly]: “The Nobility of the Judges of the Shores of the Volga.”

  Vilitski: Ah!

  Fonk: There’s a lot of feeling and sympathy. . . . There are even very exalted places.

  Vilitski: I should feel highly flattered, if Mr. Sozomenos would see fit to read the story to me.

  Fonk: Oh, I think he would be very glad to do it. [Looking at Sozomenos.] Authors seldom refuse to do that. [Ee laughs.]

  [Sozomenos replies with coarse lawghter.]

  Vilitski: Sit down, gentlemen. Would you like to have some pipes? [Ee hands them pipes and tobacco.]

  [Fonk refuses. Sozomenos sits down, slowly fills the pipe, and looks around.]

  Fonk [to Vilitski, while Sozomenos is filling his pipe]: Just think, how strange! Up to now, Mr. Sozomenos didn’t even suspect that he had literary inclinations. And, as you see, he has passed his first youth. How old are you, Alkiviad Martynych?

  Sozomenos: Thirty - five. May I have a light?

  Vilitski [handing him the matches from the table]: Here it is.

  Fonk [to Vilitski]: Moreover, he’s not a Russian. However, it must be said, he left his native country very young, and has done a number of things here. Mostly, he has passed his time in the provinces. He came to St. Petersburg intending to learn the soap - making trade. And suddenly, he began to write. That’s a talent! [Vilitski looks at Sozomenos.] I confess that I am not a great admirer of contemporary literature. Nowadays, they write so peculiarly! Moreover, although I consider myself a Russian and acknowledge the Russian language as my mother tongue, so to say, still, like Alkiviad Martynych, I am not a Russian by birth, and therefore, I haven’t, so to say, the voice

  Vilitski: Oh, nonsense! On the contrary, you speak most excellent R
ussian. I always admire the clearness and the beauty of your style. Why

  Fonk [smiling modestly]: That may be, that may be.

  Sozomenos: He is a scholar.

  Fonk: Well, not quite that. What did I want to say? Oh, yes, — I am not a great lover of contemporary literature. [Sits down. Vilitski aJso.] But I love the good Russian style; the expressive style. That’s why I was so pleased with Sozomenos’ story. I didn’t lose the opportunity of expressing to him my innate satisfaction. However, I do not advise him to publish it, because, I am sorry to say, the contemporary critics have very poor taste.

  Sozomenos [having removed the pipe from his mouth, and lowered his head]: None of these critics know anything.

  Vilitski: Yes, they write a lot of wiseacre stuff.

  Sozomenos: They simply know nothing.

  Vilitski [to Fonk]: All you have told me about Mr. Sozomenos, has greatly excited my curiosity, and I should like to become familiar with his writings.

  Sozomenos [in the same position, but in a lower voice]: Absolutely nothing. [He puts his pipe in his mouth again.]

  Fonk: He will bring his story to you some of these days. [Getting up and taking Vilitski a little to one side.] You see, he is quite a peculiar man. What you call an eccentric man, and that’s just what I like about him. All real writers are kind of eccentric. I confess, I am very glad over my discovery. [With pride] Che le brodeche. [Fonk expresses “je le protege” with the German accent.] Well, what are you doing, my dear Petr Ilich? How are you getting on?

  Vilitski: About the same.

  Fonk: You haven’t been attending to your duties these days, have you?

  Vilitski: No, I haven’t. [A moment’s silence.] How did you know about it?

  Fonk: Hm! Well, what do you intend to do now?

  Vilitski: I’ll be frank with you, Eodion Karlych. I intended to go there to - day.

  Fonk: And you will do well.

  Vilitski: You understand that it cannot go on indefinitely. I am even ashamed of it. It’s laughable. Moreover, I am not altogether right. I must explain myself, and I am confident that it will all come out as well as it can.

  Fonk: Surely.

  Vilitski [looking around]: I’d like to have a talk with you about it.

  Fonk: Well, what’s hindering you from doing it now?

  Vilitski: I would like to talk to you alone. You know, it is quite a ticklish affair.

  Fonk [in a low voice]: Maybe you feel a little bashful on account of Sozomenos’s presence. . . . Nonsense! Look at him. [Points to Sozomenos, who is falling asleep.] He doesn’t even notice us. His imagination isn’t like yours and mine. He may be, now, in the East, or in America, or the Lord knows where. [Takes Vilitski’s arm and they begin to pace the room.] Say what you want to say.

  Vilitski [undecidedly]: You see, I really don’t know where to begin. You are showing such a friendly disposition towards me. Your advice is generally so practical, so wise. . . .

  Fonk: Please, without compliments.

  Vilitski [semi - audibly]: Help me, for Heaven’s sake! I am, as you must have noticed, in very trying circumstances. You know, that I am going to be married, Eodion Karlych. I have given my word for it, and, as an honest man, I am going to keep it. I have no reproaches to make to my betrothed, for she hasn’t changed one bit. I love her, and yet, — you won’t believe me, but the very thought of my wedding being so near, makes such an impression upon me, such . . . that I ask myself if I “have the right, under the present circumstances, to accept my betrothed’s hand?” or whether it wouldn’t be, on my part, deceit? What does it mean? Explain to me. Does it mean that I am afraid to lose my freedom, or something else? I can’t solve that, I confess.

  Fonk: Listen, Petr Ilich. Permit me to give you my opinion on the matter, with the utmost frankness.

  Vilitski: Please do, please do. [He stops and looks at Sozomenos.] But really, I feel ashamed before Mr. — I think he is fast asleep.

  Fonk: Is that so? He is. [Goes up to Sozomenos, who has fallen asleep, with his head hanging over his chest; in which position he remains all through the conversation, excepting that now and then he “catches fish.”] That’s quite interesting. [To himself.] Eine allerliebste Geschichte. [Aloud.] That happens to him quite often. What funny fel

  lows these authors are! [Bending over him.] He sleeps like a log. I must say, I like that. It’s quite original.

  Vilitski: Yes, it is.

  Fonk: Well, now you needn’t worry about him. [Both return to the front of the stage.] And so, listen to me, my dear Petr Ilich. You want to know my opinion concerning your marriage, isn’t that right? [Vilitski nods his head.] This is a very delicate question. I’ll begin from . . . [Stops.] Well, you see, Petr Ilich, in my opinion, a man, particularly at your age, can’t live without some rules. I made some for myself at a very early age, and I have never deviated from what I call my laws. One of my main laws is: that a man must never lose himself; must always account for his behavior to himself. Now, I’ll pass over to your case. Two years ago, you made the acquaintance of Mr. Moshkin. Mr. Moshkin did several favors for you. Maybe they were quite important ones at that. . . .

  Vilitski: Oh, yes, oh, yes. I am greatly indebted to him. Greatly. . . .

  Fonk: I don’t doubt that at all. I don’t even doubt your appreciation. Your honorable disposition is well known to me. But here comes the question to which we must give our undivided attention. Mr. Moshkin is undoubtedly a most worthy man, but, tell me, my dear Petr Ilich, do you and he belong to the same company?

  Vilitski: I am as poor as he is, — in fact poorer.

  Fonk: Petr Ilich! It isn’t a question of wealth. I am talking about education, manners, and mode of life — You’ll pardon my frankness.

  Vilitski: Speak! I am listening to you.

  Fonk: Now . . . now concerning your bride - to - be. Tell me, Petr Ilich, do you love her?

  Vilitski: I do. [After a moment’s silence] I do love her.

  Fonk: You are in love with her? [Vilitski is silent.] Well, you see, my friend, love . . . surely . . . one can’t say anything against love. That’s fire; a whirlwind; a whirlpool. In a word, it’s a phenomenon. . . . Well, you can’t master it, that’s all. I, for my part, think that, even here, reason doesn’t lose its rights. But, my honest opinion in this matter cannot serve as a general rule. If you love your bride - to - be as much as you have said, then there is nothing more to be said about it. All that we may say about it will be in vain. But, it seems to me, that you are beginning to be shaky; that you are developing a doubt; and finally, that you are beginning to be uncertain about your own feelings; and that’s a very important point. At any rate, you are now in a condition, so to say, to accept friendly advice. [Takes him• by the arm.] Listen! Let us look coldly on your relationship with Maria Vasilevna. [Vilitski looks at Fonk.] Your bride is a very lovely, very amiable young lady. That can’t be denied. [Vilitski drops his eyes.] But, you know, that the best diamonds require polishing. [Vilitski looks at Sozomenos.] — Don’t bother yourself about him; he’s asleep. — It isn’t a question, whether you love your bride now, but the question is whether or not you will be happy with her. An educated man sometimes has certain inclinations which his wife cannot sympathize with. He is interested in problems, which she cannot even comprehend. Believe me, Petr Ilich, equality is very important in married life. Let me tell you what I mean: I do not admit, for a minute, that false equality between husband and wife about which the self - styled Prophets. . . . No, a wife must blindly obey her husband, blindly. You understand that I am talking about a different kind of equality?

  Vilitski: That is so. I fully agree with all that you have said. But, my dear Rodion Karlych, put yourself in my place. How could you expect me, now, at this time, to break my word? Just think of it! My refusal to stick to my word would kill Maria Vasilevna. She has trusted me, like a child. I may say, that I have brought her out in the world. I discovered her and I proposed to her. Now, I must carry it out to the end. How c
ould you expect me to avoid that responsibility? You would be the first one to despise me for it.

  Fonk: Wait a minute, wait a minute! I am not quite ready to justify you. Your arguments can be easily refuted. In my opinion, there are two kinds of obligations: The obligation to others, and the obligation to yourself. What right have you to spoil your own life; to ruin it? You are young; you are in the bloom of life, so to say. You are in the public eye, and very likely an illustrious career is awaiting you. Why do you want to throw away such a good chance; such a good beginning?

  Vilitski: Why throw away, Rodion Karlych? Couldn’t I continue my career . . .

  Fonk: Surely, you could, though married, continue to work; nobody doubts that. Moreover, Petr Ilich, everything may be reached in time. But who wouldn’t consider the shortest road the best? Assiduity, zeal, punctuality, — these qualities do not remain unrewarded, that’s true. Good abilities are also useful to an official. They all draw the attention of the superiors. But connections, Petr Ilich, good connections and good acquaintances are very important in this world. I have already told you about my rule to avoid getting acquainted with the people of the lower classes. From this rule, logically follows another rule: Get ac