A fortnight later Alexandr had arranged to spend the day with friends, but in the morning he received a note from Julia, begging him to spend the whole day with her and to come rather earlier. She wrote that she was ill and in low spirits, that her nerves were out of order, &c. He was irritated; however, he went to inform her that he could not stay with her, that he had a lot of business to attend to.
"Oh, of course: a dinner at the theatre, tobogganing— very important business," she said languidly.
" What does that mean ? " he asked, with annoyance; " so, you spy upon me, it seems; that I won't put up with."
He got up and was going.
" Stop a minute, listen !" she said, " I have something to say."
" Fve no time."
" One minute; sit down."
Unwillingly he sat down on the edge of a chair.
Clasping her hands she gazed uneasily at him, as though she were trying first to read on his face the answer to what she wanted to ask.
He writhed in his seat from impatience.
" Make haste! I've no time to spare!" drily.
She sighed. *
" You don't love me then ? * she asked, with a slight movement of the head.
"The old story!" he said, stroking his hat with his hands.
" How sick you are of it!" she answered.
He got up and with rapid strides began to walk up and down the room. In an instant a sob was heard.
" That is all that was wanting!" he said almost violently, standing still near her, " you have tortured me enough !"
u I torture you !" she cried, and sobbed the more.
"It's unendurable!" said Alexandr, getting ready to
go.
" There, I won't, I won't!" she said, hurriedly wiping away her tears; " see, I am not crying, only don't go away, sit down."
^Sne tried to smile, but the tears would still trickle down her cheeks. Alexandr felt sorry for her. He sat down and swung his legs. He began to put question after question to / himself, and arrived at the conclusion that h e had grown ^ L cold and did not l o ve Ju lia. But why ? God only knows! She loved him more passionately every day; was it not because of that ? Good Heavens, what an irony of fate! All the conditions of happiness were there. There was no obstacle to hinder them, there was not even any other feeling to draw him away, yet he had grown cold! Oh, life ! But how should he soothe Julia ? Was he to sacrifice himself? to drag through a long wearisome existence with her; to play a part he could not, but not to play a part would mean every minute to see tears, to hear reproaches, to torture her and himself. .... Should he begin to explain to her at once his uncle's theories about the changeable nature of the feelings—a likely idea! she was weeping already, when she knew nothing—but there! What was to be done ?
Julia, seeing that he did not speak, took his hand and gazed into his eyes. He slowly turned away and gently disengaged his hand. He not only felt no attraction, but at her touch a cold and unpleasant shiver ran through his frame. She redoubled her caresses. He did not respond to them, and grew even more cold and sullen. She suddenly snatched her hand away from him and grew crimson. Womanly pride, outraged self-love, shame were stirred in
her. She raised her head, drew herself up, and blushed from vexation.
" Leave me!" she said in broken tones.
He went off at once without any kind of reply. But as the sound of his steps began to die away she rushed after him !
"Alexandr Fedoritch! Alexandr Fedoritch!" she cried.
He came back.
" Where are you going ? "
" Why, you just told me to go."
" And you were glad to escape. Stop!"
" I've no time ! "
She took him by the hand, and again melted into tender, tearful words and prayers. He showed no sympathy in look, or word, or gesture, but stood as though he were made of wood, shifting from one leg to the other. His coldness drove her to frenzy. Threats and reproaches were showered on him. Who would have recognised in her the gentle, nervous woman? Her hair fell down in disorder, her eyes glowed with feverish brilliance, her cheeks were flushed, her features were strangely distorted—" How ugly s he is ! " thought Alexandr, looking at her with a grimace.
" 1 will be revenged on you !" sne said. a Do you think [ you can so easily trifle with a woman's destiny ? and you shall see what I will do! you will be sick of your life!
How consoling now to hear of your ruin I could kill
you myself!" she shrieked wildly, furiously.
" How stupid it is, how absurd!" thought Alexandr, shrugging his shoulders.
Seeing that Alexandr remained unmoved by her threats, she suddenly changed to a gentle, pathetic tone, then gazed silently at him.
" Have pity on me !" she began to say ; "don't cast me aside; what can I do now without you ? I could not bear separation. I should die! Think a little: women love very differently from men; more tenderly, more passionately. For them love is everything; and especially is it so for me; other women like flirtation, society, bustle and activity; I was never suited for that—mine is a different character. I love quiet, solitude, books, music, and you more than everything in the world."
u-"
Alexandr showed his impatience.
" Very well! you do not love me," she went on more quickly, "but fulfil your promise; marry me, only be mine* you shall be free: do what you like, even love whom you like, if only I may sometimes—now and then—see you. Oh, for God's sake, pity me, pity me !"
She burst into tears and could not go on. Her emotion had exhausted her; she fell on to the sofa, her eyes closed and her teeth clenched, while her mouth worked convulsively. She fell into hysterics. An hour later she recovered and came to herself. Her maid was bustling about near her. She looked round. "But where?" .... she asked.
" He has gone away ! "
" Gone away!" she repeated dejectedly, and sat a long while silent and motionless.
The next day note after note was despatched to Alexandr. He did not make his appearance nor send any answer. The third and the fourth day it was the same. Julia wrote to Piotr Ivanitch, and asked him to come to her about important business; his wife she did not like, because she was young and handsome, and happened to be Alexandras aunt.
Piotr Ivanitch found her seriously ill, almost at death's door. He set off to see Alexandr.
" What a hypocrite ! fie !" he said.
" How so! " said Alexandr.
" Just look at him, as though it were no concern of his ! He does not know how to make a woman love him indeed ! why, he's driven her wild about him !"
" I don't understand, uncle "
" What is there you don't understand ? you understand well enough! I have been at Madame Taphaev's; she has told me all."
"What!" stammered Alexandr in violent confusion. " She has told you all! '*
"Yes, all. How she loves you ! You lucky fellow ! Well, you were always lamenting that you could not find passion; here you have passion; b6 comforted ! "
" What did you go to see her about ? "
" She asked me, and complained to me of you. Certainly I wonder you're not ashamed to neglect her like this ? for four days you have not set eyes on her .... it's no
joking matter. She is pale, dying ! Come, go directly to her."
" What did you say to her ? "
" Oh, the ordinary things, that you, too, love her to distraction, that you have long been seeking a sympathetic heart; that you are passionately fond of sincere outpourings ; and that you, too, cannot live without love. I said that she was uneasy without cause; that you would come back. I advised her not to coop you up too much, to let you amuse yourself a little sometimes, else, I told her, you will begin to bore each other—in fact, what is usually said on such occasions. I cheered her up so that she proceeded to tell me you had decided to be married, that my wife had already helped in the matter. But never a word to me—these women ! Well, thank God she has something of her own ; you can spend it between you. I tol
d her that you would
certainly carry out your engagement I did my best for
you just now, Alexandr, in gratitude for the service you did me. I convinced her that you love so passionately, so tenderly. ,,
" What have you done, uncle!" said Alexandr, changing countenance. " I—I don't love her any more ! I don't want to marry her ! I feel cold to her, as cold as ice ! I'd sooner drown myself than "
" Pooh, pooh !" said Piotr Ivanitch, with simulated incredulity ; " is it you I am listening to ? Didn't you say—do you remember ?—that you despise human nature, especially feminine human nature; that there was no heart in the world deserving of you? What more did you say? Let me remember "
" For Heaven's sake, not a word more, uncle; that is reproach enough; what need to moralise farther ? Do you think I don't understand. O man, man !"
He suddenly began to laugh, and his uncle joined in.
" Weil, that's better !" said Piotr Ivanitch; " I said you would come to laugh at yourself, and here "
And both laughed again.
" But I say," Piotr Ivanitch went on, " what is your opinion now of that—what's-her-name—Pashenka, was it ?—with the wart ? "
" Uncle that's not magnanimous."
N
" No; I only speak of it to discover whether you still despise her just the same ? "
" Stop that, for Heaven's sake, and help me instead to get out of an awful position. You are so sensible, so judicious "
" Oh, now for compliments and flattery ! No, you get along and marry her."
" Not for anything, uncle! I entreat you, aid me."
" Come, don't worry; I have helped you already," said his uncle. "Don't be uneasy; Madame Taphaev will not trouble you further."
" What have you done ? What have you told her ? "
"It's too long to repeat, Alexandr; it would be tedious."
" But most likely you have been saying all sorts of things to her. She will hate and despise me."
" What does it matter to you ? I quieted her—that was enough ; I told her that you weren't capable of love; that it wasn't worth while troubling about you."
" What did she say ? "
"She is positively glad now that you have deserted her."
" What! glad!" said Alexandr gloomily.
"Yes, glad."
"Did you notice no regret, no grief in her? was she indifferent ? This is beyond everything."
He began to pace the room uneasily.
" Glad, calm !" he repeated; " that's a nice idea! I will go to her this instant."
" Here's a man !" observed Piotr Ivanitch, " this is the heart; you may live among men—you will be all right But were you not afraid of her sending for you ? did you not beg for assistance ? and now you are upset because she isn't dying of grief at being separated from you."
" How mean I am, how worthless !" said Alexandr, falter-ingly ; " I have no heart! I am pitiful, base in spirit!"
" And all through love!" interposed Piotr Iv anitch . " Such a stupid pursuit; leave it to fellows like £iirkol But you are a sensible boy; you might busy yourself-wtth something of more consequence. You have done enough running after women."
" But you love your wife, I suppose ? "
" Yes, of course. I am very well suited to her, but it
does not prevent me from doing my work. Well, good-bye,
come in."
Alexandr sat perplexed and gloomy. Yevsay stole up to him with a boot, into which he thrust his hand.
" Kindly look at it, sir," he said tenderly, " what blacking! you can shine it like a mirror, but it costs only sixpence !"
Alexandr started, looked mechanically at the boot, then at Yevsay.
" Get away !" he said, " you idiot!"
" We ought to send some to the country," Yevsay began again.
" Get away, I tell you, go away ! " shrieked Alexai almost in tears ; " you bother me ... . you and youi/fioog will worry me into my grave .... you're .... a savage!"
Yevsay quickly vanished into the ante-room.
CHAPTER X.
" Why is it Alexandr does not come to see us ? I haven't seen him these three months," said Piotr Ivanitch to his wife as he came home one day.
" I have quite given up the idea of ever seeing him," she replied.
" Why, what's the matter with him ? Is he in love again, or what ? "
" I don't know."
" Is he quite well ? "
" Yes."
" Please write to him that I want to have a little conversation with him. There will be changes among them at his office again, and I fancy he does not know it.«, I don't understand such carelessness."
" I have written and invited him ten times already. He says he has no time, but all the same he plays draughts with some queer companions and goes out angling. You had better go yourself; you would find out what's wrong with him."
" What is he up to now ? There is no help for it, I will go. But it's the last time, I declare."
Piotr Ivanitch, too, found Alexandr on the sofa. On his uncle's entrance he got up and took a seat.
" Are you unwell ? " inquired Piotr Ivanitch.
" So, so/' replied Alexandr, yawning.
" What are you doing ? "
" Nothing."
" And you can exist without doing anything ? "
" Yes."
" I've been told to-day, Alexandr, that Ivanoff is leaving your department!"
" Yes, he's leaving."
" Who will succeed him ? "
" They say Ichenko."
" And what about you ? "
" They don't think enough of me. And probably I am not fitted for it."
" Good Heavens, Alexandr, you must bestir yourself. You ought to go and see the director."
" No," said Alexandr, shaking his head.
u But this is now the third time you've been passed over."
" I don't care ; so be it."
" Come, think a little, what will you say when your former subordinate begins to give you orders, or when he comes in and you have to get up and salute him ? "
" Why, I shall get up and salute him."
" But your self-respect ? "
" I have none."
" But you have some interests of some kind in life ? "
" None at all. I had and they are over."
"That cannot be; one set of interests replaces another. Why are they over for you, and not over for other people ? It would be rather early for that, I should say ; you are not yet thirty."
Alexandr shrugged his shoulders.
u Do remember that you, like every one else, ought to make for yourself a career of some kind. Do you sometimes think of that ? "
" Of course I I have made it already."
" How so ? "
" I have marked out for myself a sphere of activity and I don't wish to go beyond it. I am a householder here ; that's my career. 1 am fed and clothed; I have enough for that."
"And very badly clothed now," remarked his uncle. " And is that all you want ? "
« Yes, all."
" But the attraction of intellectual and spiritual pleasures, and art?" Piotr Ivanitch was beginning mimicking Alexandra intonation. " You might go forwards; yours is a higher vocation; your duty summons you to noble activity. And your strivings for what is higher—have you forgotten ? "
" Confound them ! " said Alexandr uneasily. " You too, uncle have begun to be high-flown. This never attacked you before. Isn't it for my benefit ? It's trouble thrown away ! I did strive for something .... do you recollect what came ofit?"
" I remember that you wanted to be a minister all of a sudden, and then an author. Still you have proved that you can work and be something in time. But it's long and weary waiting, we want it all at once; we don't succeed, and we lose heart"
"But I don't want to strive for something higher. I have found a place for myself, and I shall stay there for ever. I have found some simple, unsophisticated people; it's no matter that they're limited in in
tellect. I play draughts and go fishing with them—and it's capital! Let me be punished, as you consider, for it, let me be deprived of rewards, honour, money, a higher vocation—and all that you are so in love with. I have renounced for ever "
"You want, Alexandr, to pretend to be contented and indifferent to everything, but your vexation effervesces even in your words; you are speaking as though with tears instead of words. You are full of bitterness; you don't know what to vent it on, because you alone are to blame."
" So be it! " said Alexandr.
Piotr Ivanitch looked at him without speaking. He had_ g rown thin again. His eyes were sunk en. On his cheeks and brows premature wnnkles were visible.
His uncle was alarmed. Spiritual suffering he scarcely believed in, but he was afraid that the beginning of some physical disease lay hid under this exhaustion. " I declare," he thought, " the boy is going out of his mind, and then to break it to his mother; what a correspondence ! she would be certain to come up here too."
" Come in and see us," he said; " my wife is very anxious to see you."
" I can't, uncle."
" Is it nice of you to forget her ? "
" Perhaps it's very nasty of me, but, for goodness* sake, excuse me and don't expect me now. Wait a little while longer, I will come."
"Well, as you please," said Piotr Ivanitch. With a wave of the hand he went off home.
He told his wife he gave up Alexandr and that he must do as he likes—that he, Piotr Ivanitch, had done all he could, and now washed his hands of him.
After his rupture with Julia, Alexandr had flung himself into a whirl of riotous amusements.
In a little while his freedom with noisy festivities and a life without care made him forget Julia and his troubles. But all this constant repetition of suppers at restaurants, with the same blear-eyed faces, of the stupid and drunken talk of his companions day after day, with his stomach constantly out of order into the bargain—no, this was not to his taste. The delicate organisation of body and soul in Alexandr, attuned to a note of melancholy and pathos, could not endure these dissipations.
He shut himself up alone in his room, in solitude with his forgotten books. But his book fell out of his hands, and his pen refused to obey the breath of inspiration. Schiller, Goethe, Byron showed him the dark side of mankind; the bright side he did not notice—that he had not attained to.
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