A common story

by Ivan Goncharov

  The winter passed however, summer came, and his love still continued. Julia had become still more fervently devoted to him. There was no change on her part nor any blow from destiny; what did happen was altogether different His face grew more serene. He had grown used to the idea of the possibility of a permanent attachment. " Though this love is not now so passionate," he thought one day, as he looked at Julia, " yet in compensation it is lasting, perhaps eternal! Yes, there is no doubt of it. Ah, at last I understand thee, Destiny! Thou wouldst atone to me for my past sufferings and lead me, after long wanderings, into a quiet harbour at last. So here is the haven of happiness—Julia !" he cried aloud.

  She started. • "What is it?" she asked.

  " Nothing ! only—~ w

  "Nothing! tell me; you had some idea." Aiexandr was obstinate. She continued to press him.

  " I thought that to make our happiness complete there is wanting "

  " What?" she asked with anxiety.

  "Oh, nothing! an idea occurred to me." Julia was troubled.

  " Ah ! don't torture me, tell me directly !" she said.

  Aiexandr spoke musingly in an undertone as though to himself. "To gain the right, not to leave her for an instant, not to go away home—to be everywhere and always with her. To be her rightful protector before the eyes of the world .... she to call me hers aloud, without blushing or turning pale .... and to be so all our lives, and to take pride in it for ever."

  Speaking in this lofty strain, a word at a time, he at last reached the word marriage. Julia trembled, then burst into tears.

  She gave him her hand with a feeling of unutterable tenderness and gratitude, and they both revived and both began talking at once. It was decided that Aiexandr should talk to his aunt and beg for her aid in this complicated matter.

  They did not know what to do for joy. It was a glorious, lovely evening. They started off to a place out of town, a wood, and succeeding after much pains in finding a little hillock, where they sat the whole evening looking at the setting sun, and fancying their future way of life, they made plans to limit themselves to a narrow circle of acquaintances and not to waste their time in useless visiting.

  They then returned home and began to discuss the future arrangement of their house, the distribution of their rooms, and so on. They got as far as furnishing them. Aiexandr proposed to turn her dressing-room into his study so that it might be near their bedroom.

  " What kind of furniture would you like in the study ? " she said.

  " I should like walnut-wood with blue velvet draperies." "That would be pretty and would not get dirty; one must be sure to choose dark colours for a man's study; light colours are so soon spoiled by smoking. But here, in the little passage which leads from your future study to the bedroom, I will arrange a conservatory—won't it be lovely ?

  There I shall place one easy-chair, so that I could sit there to read or work and see you in the study."

  "I shall not have to part from you much longer/' said Alexandr at parting.

  She put her hand over his mouth.

  The next day Alexandr set off to see Lizaveta Alex-androvna, to disclose to her what she had long been aware of, and to beg her advice and assistance; begging her, till the matter was concluded, not to say a word about it to Piotr Ivanitch.

  The summer was quickly over, and the dull autumn too dragged slowly to an end. Another winter had began. Adouev's visits to Julia were still as frequent.

  It seemed as though she kept a strict account of the days, hours, and minutes which could possibly be spent together. She let no opportunity pass.

  "Shall you start early for the office to-morrow?" she would ask sometimes.

  "At eleven."

  " Then come to me at ten; we will have breakfast together. But could not you stay away altogether. As though they could not do without you !"

  "What? duty to one's country," Alexandr would begin.

  " A fine idea! Vou must say that you love and are beloved./ Can it be that your chief has never loved ? If he has a heart, he will understand or bring your work here; who hinders you from working here ? "

  Another time she would not let him go to the theatre, and as for seeing friends, she almost always absolutely prevented it. When Lizaveta Alexandrovna came to call on her, for long after Julia could not get over the discovery that Alexandras aunt was so young and handsome. She had imagined her as an aunt after her own fancy, elderly and plain, like the majority of aunts, and here, if you please, was, a woman of six or seven and twenty and a beauty ! She had a scene with Alexandr, and from that time permitted him very rarely to go to his uncle's !

  But what was her jealousy and tyranny compared with Alexandr's tyrannising ! He was by now convinced of her attachment and saw that her nature did not admit of change or diminution of feeling and still .... was jealous; and what a

  jealousy! It was not the jealousy that comes of too much love—the jealousy of tears and sighs and complaint springing from the pangs of a heart that dreads to lose its happiness—no, it was a hard, cold, cruel jealousy. He tyrannised over the poor woman from love more than others would have done through hate. He would fancy, for instance, some evening, in the presence of guests, that she did not look long and tenderly or often enough at him, and then, if there were any young man near Julia, or even not a young man, simply a man, or a woman, sometimes even a thing, then woe betide her! Insult, bitterness, the blackest scorn and reproach were showered upon her. Then she was forced to exculpate herself and to make atonement by various sacrifices and unqualified submission; she had to give up speaking with this person, give up staying in one place, give up going to another, to put up with the significant smiles and whispers of the slily observant, to blush, to grow pale, to be compromised.

  If she received an invitation to go anywhere, before replying she would turn a questioning look on him, and he need only frown for her to decline instantly, pale and trembling. Sometimes he would give her permission—she would prepare, be dressed and ready to get into the carriage —when suddenly, from some caprice of the moment, he would pronounce a threatening veto ! and she would take off her things and countermand the carriage. Afterwards he would, very likely, begin to beg her forgiveness, and offer to go, but too late to dress and order the carriage again. So it had to be given up. He was jealous not only of handsome or intelligent or talented people, but even of the most unattractive, and at last simply of those whose faces he did not like.

  But Julia put up with it all. She cut herself off from friends, never went out anywhere, and sat alone with Alex-andr. They went on—now of set design—living upon their bliss. Having come to the end of all the natural ordinary delights, she began to devise fresh ones, to diversify that world which is rich enough in pleasures without such aid. What an inventive faculty Julia displayed! But even that power was exhausted. Repetitions were reached. There was nothing left to desire or to experience.

  They had learnt each other's feelings, ways of think-

  m & powers and limitations, and nothing now hindered them from carrying out the plan they had formed.

  Sincere outpourings grew less frequent. They sometimes sat for hours together without saying a word. But Julia was happy even in silence. At times she would address Alexandr with a question and receive a " yes " or " no " and be content; if she did not receive even this, she would fasten her eyes upon him; he would smile, and she would be happy again. If he did not smile nor make any reply, she would begin to watch every movement, every look, and interpret it in her own way, and then reproaches would follow.

  They had ceased talking of the future because Alexandr was conscious on that subject of an embarrassment, a discomfort which he could not explain to himself and he tried to change the conversation. He began to ponder, to grow thoughtful. The magic circle in which his life was enclosed by love was broken through in places, and the faces of his friends appeared to him from afar, together with a whole sequence of stormy dissipation; at times brilliant balls with crowds of pretty
girls, at other times his ever-occupied and busy uncle, his own neglected pursuits.

  In such a mood he was sitting one evening at Julia's. There was a snowstorm outside. The snow drifted on the window and stuck in frozen lumps on the panes.

  The wind rushed up the chimney and whistled mournfully. In the room the only sound was the monotonous ticking of the clock on the table and now and then a sigh from Julia.

  Alexandr, from want of anything to do, cast a glance round the room, then looked at the clock—ten, and he would have to stay another two hours; he yawned. His eyes rested on Julia.

  She stood leaning with her back to the fireplace; her white face bent over her shoulder, and followed Alexandr with her eyes, but not with an expression of doubt or interrogation, but one of tenderness, love and happiness. It was clear that she was struggling against a secret emotion, with some dream of sweetness, and she seemed worn out by it.

  Her nerves wrought so powerfully upon her that even the thrill of tenderness itself reacted on her with the exhaustion of illness; torture and bliss were inseparable for her.

  Alexandr responded with a cold uneasy stare. He went up to the windows and began to drum lightly on the pane with his finger, looking into the street.

  From the street a mingled sound of voices and the rattle of carriages reached them. At all the windows were bright lights and flitting shadows. He fancied that where the light was brightest there was a lively party assembled ; there, most likely, there was a lively interchange of thoughts and ardent, versatile feelings, there life was noisy and merry. And over there at that dimly lighted window no doubt some noble, hardworking man was sitting busily occupied. And Alexandr began to reflect that for two years now he had been dragging on an indolent, senseless existence—two years gone from the sum-total of life—and all through love ! Here he began an onslaught on love.

  " And what a love !" he thought, " a sleepy, spiritless sort of love. This woman gave way to her feelings without a struggle, without an effort, without opposition, like an unresisting victim. A weak woman, lacking character, she would have bestowed her love on the first man who came across her; if it had not been me, she would have loved Surkoff exactly the same, indeed she had already begun to love him. Yes, it's no good for her to justify herself, I saw it! If some one had appeared a little more adroit and active than I, she would have yielded to him; it's simply immorality ! Is that love ? Where is the sympathy of souls of which sentimental people are always preaching? and what an a ffinity of souj s there seemed to be in our case! it seemed as L tfiough they would be one for ever, and what has it come to ? Devil knows what it is, there's no understanding it!" he muttered with irritation.

  "What are you doing there? what are you thinking about ? " asked Julia.

  " Oh, nothing !" he said yawning, and sat down on the sofa rather further from her, clutching with one hand a corner of the embroidered cushion.

  " Sit here, closer."

  He did not move, and made no answer.

  " What is the matter with you?" she said, going up to him ; "you are unbearable to-day."

  " I don't know," he said drowsily; " I'm somehow—as if I "

  He did not know what answer to make to her and to himself. He had not yet made thoroughly clear to himself what was happening to him.

  *She sat down near him, began to talk of the future, and by degrees grew animated. She drew a happy picture of family life, jestingly for a little time, but with a very tender conclusion.

  "You—my husband! look," she said, pointing round, A " so on all this will be yours. Y ou will be the mas ter here

  in the house, as you are already in my heart. Now I am incIependefiV 1 "Can-do what I like, and go wherever I please, but then nothing here can stir from its place without your permission; I myself shall be in bondage to your will. What a sweet slavery ! Rivet the chains as soon as may be; when is it to be ?

  " All my life I dreamed of such a man, of such a love, and now my dream has come true, and happiness is near. I can scarcely believe it. Do you know it seems like a dream to me. Is it not a recompense for all my past sufferings ? "

  ^was torture to Alexandr to listen to these words.

  u But suppose I got tired of you ? " he asked suddenly, j trying to give a jesting accent to his voice.

  r " I should box your ears," she said, pinching his ear;then she sighed and grew pensive even at the suggestion in jest. He did not speak.

  " But what's the matter with you ? " she asked suddenly and insistently; " you don't speak, you scarcely hear what I say, you look away."

  Then she moved up to him and, laying her hand on his shoulder, began to speak softly, almost in a whisper, on the same subject, but not so positively. She recalled the beginning of their intimacy, the beginning of their love, her first feelings and first happiness. She almost fainted from the tenderness of her emotion; and in her pale cheeks there were two spots of crimson, which by degrees grew hot, her eyes glowed, then grew languid and half-closed ; her bosom heaved. She spoke hardly audibly, and with one hand played with Alexandr's soft hair, then looked straight into his eyes. He gently disengaged his head from her hand, drew a comb out of his pocket, and carefully combed the locks she had ruffled. She got up and looked fixedly at him.

  "What is the matter with you, Alexandr?" she said uneasily.

  " There she is at it again ! how can I tell ? " he thought, but did not speak.

  " Are you bored ? " she said, and in her voice was a tone of question and of doubt.

  " Bored !" he thought, " the word is found! Yes, it's terrible deadly boredom! that's the worm which has been gnawing at my heart for months. Good God, what am I to do? and she talks of love, of marriage. How can I undeceive her!"

  She sat down to the piano and began to play some of his favourite pieces. He did not listen, but kept thinking his own thoughts.

  Julia let her hands fall. She sighed, wrapped herself in a shawl, and flung herself into the other corner of the sofa, and from there watched Alexandr with mournful eyes.

  He took up his hat.

  " Where are you going ? " she said with surprise.

  " Home/'

  " It is not eleven o'clock yet."

  " I have to write to mamma; I haven't written to her for a long while."

  " A long while! you wrote the day before yesterday." He did not speak ; there was nothing for him to say. He really had written and had incidentally mentioned it to her at the time, but had forgotten it; but love does not forget the smallest detail. In the eyes of love everything which relates to the beloved object is a fact of importance. A complex web is woven in a lover's mind from observations, subtle imaginations, recollections, and surmises about everything which surrounds the beloved, which takes place in his sphere, or has any bearing upon him. One word, a hint—no need of a hint! a glance, a scarcely perceptible movement of the lips—is enough for love to found a conjecture on, then to pass from it to imagination, and thence to a decisive conclusion, and then to suffer torture or to be blissful in his own thoughts. The logic of lovers, sometimes false, sometimes amazingly correct, quickly builds up an edifice of conjectures and suspicions, but the strength of love still more quickly levels it to the ground; often a single

  smile is enough for this, a tear, two or three words, and the suspicions are gone.

  This kind of supervision there is no means of lulling to sleep or deceiving. The lover at one time suddenly takes some idea into his head which no one else would have thought of in his wildest dreams, at another time he fails to see what is taking place under his nose ; at one time acute to clairvoyance, at another_shor>sighted to blindness.,

  Julia leaped up from the sofa, like a cat and seized him by the hand.

  "What does it mean? where are you going?" she asked.

  " Nothing, nothing, I assure you; there, I simply want to go to bed; I have had too little sleep lately: that's all"

  "Too little sleep! when you told me only this morning that you had had nine hours' sleep, and that you eve
n had a headache from too much sleep ? "

  Unlucky again.

  "Well, my head does ache," he said, a little taken aback, " and that's why I am going."

  " But after dinner you said your headache had gone."

  " Good Heavens, what a memory you have ! It's unbearable ! Very well, I simply want to go home."

  " Aren't you comfortable here ? What have you there, at home?"

  Looking him in the eyes, she shook her head incredulously. He succeeded somehow in quieting her and went away.

  " What if I don't go to Julia's to-day ? " was the question Alexandr put to himself when he waked up the next morning.

  He paced three times up and down the room. " I declare I won't go !" he announced resolutely.

  "Yevsay, bring me my things." And he went out to stroll about the town.

  " How nice, how jolly it is to be walking alone!" he thought; " to go wherever one pleases, to stop to read the sign-boards, to look into the shop windows, to walk to and fro—it's really very pleasant! Freedom is a precious thing! Yes ! that's just it; freedom in a broad high sense means —walking alone !"

  He tapped with his stick on the pavement, and gaily

  greeted his acquaintance. As he walked down the Morskaya Street, he saw a face he knew at the window of one of the houses. His acquaintance beckoned to him to come in. He looked and saw it was the Duomo and went in, dined there and stayed till the evening; in the evening he set off for the theatre and from the theatre to supper. He tried not to remember home at all; he knew what was awaiting him there.

  As he anticipated on his return he found some half-a-dozen notes on the table and a page asleep in the hall. The boy had been ordered not to go away till he had seen him. The notes were full of reproaches, questions and traces of tears. The next day he had to go and make his excuses. He talked about business at the office. They arrived at some sort of a reconciliation.

  Every three days, the same thing was repeated in one direction or another. And so again and again. Julia began to grow thinner, never went out and saw no one, but she said nothing, for Alexandr was irritated by reproaches.