A common story

by Ivan Goncharov

  He went gently into the room and sat down near her.

  " What are you doing ? " he asked.

  " I am looking through my account-book," she answered. " Only think, Piotr Ivanitch; in the course of last month nearly a thousand and a half roubles gone on food; it's beyond everything!"

  Without saying a word he took the book from her and laid it on the table.

  " Listen to me," he began, " the doctor says that my complaint may get worse here; he advises us to go away to some watering-place abroad. What do you say to it ? "

  "What do I say? The doctor's opinion in.such a matter is of more importance than mine, I imagine. We must go away, if he advises it."

  " But you ? Would you wish to make such a journey ? "

  " If you like."

  " But perhaps you would rather stay here ? "

  " Very well, I will stay."

  " Which of the two ? " asked Piotr Ivanitch with some impatience.

  " Make the arrangements for yourself and for me too, as you choose, ,, she replied with despondent indifference; " if you direct me I will go, if not I will stay here."

  " You cannot stay here," said Piotr Ivanitch; " the doctor says that your health is suffering somewhat through the climate."

  "What did he base that idea on?" said Lizaveta Alexandrovna; " I am well, I feel nothing amiss ."

  " Continual traveiung," said .Fiotr xvamtcn, •■ will perhaps be too exhausting for you too; wouldn't you like to stay at Moscow with your aunt while I am abroad ? "

  " Very well; I will go to Moscow then."

  "Or shall we not go together to the Crimea for the summer?"

  " Very well, to the Crimea then."

  Piotr Ivanitch did not persist; he got up from the sofa, and began to pace about as he had done in his study, then he stood still near her.

  " You don't care where you go ? " he said.

  " No, it's all the same," she said.

  u Why is it so ? "

  " Say what you like, Piotr Ivanitch," she observed, " we must cut down our expenses; a thousand five hundred roubles on food alone !"

  He took the book from her and threw it under the table.

  "Why do you occupy yourself with it so much?" he inquired ; " do you regret the money ? "

  " But what eke should I do ? Why, I am your wife ? You yourself taught me ... . and now you reproach me with occupying myself .... I am doing my duty!"

  " Listen, Liza!" said Piotr Ivanitch, after a short silence ; " you are trying to transform your nature, to conquer yourself .... that's not right. I never required it of you; you will not make me believe that these wretched things (he pointed to the account-book) could really occupy your mind. Why do you want to force yourself? I give you complete freedom."

  " Good Heavens! what do I want with freedom," said Lizaveta Alexandrovna," what am I to do with it ? Hitherto you have disposed of me and yourself so well, so wisely, that I have got out of the way of being independent; continue to do so for the future; and I shall have no need of freedom."

  Both were silent

  " It is a long while, Liza," Piotr Ivanitch began again, "since I have heard from you any request, any desire of any kind or fancy."

  " Th^re $ nothing I want," she said.

  " Have you not any special .... secret wishes ?" he asked sympathetically, looking steadily at her.

  She hesitated whether to speak or not

  Piotr Ivanitch noticed it

  " Tell me, for God's sake, tell me !" he went on, " your wishes shall be mine, I will obey them as a law."

  " Very well, then," she answered; " if you could do this for me ... . give up our Fridays .... these entertainments wear me out."

  Piotr Ivanitch grew gloomy.

  "You live like a prisoner even now," he said, after a pause, " and when your friends cease to meet round you on Fridays, you will be completely in solitude. However, so be it ; you wish it .... it shall be done. What do you want to do ? "

  " Hand me over your accounts, your books to keep, some business .... I will work at them . . . ." she said, and stretched under the table to pick up the account-book.

  To Piotr Ivanitch this seemed like a piece of ill-acted simulation.

  " Liza 1" he said reproachfully.

  The book remained under the table.

  "I am wondering whether you would not renew some acquaintances which we have quite dropped? I was meaning to give a ball with that idea, so that you should have some amusement "

  " Oh, no, no!" said Lizaveta Alexandrovna in dismay, " for goodness' sake, no, it's not necessary .... How is it possible .... a ball!"

  " What is there to alarm you in it ? At your age balls do not lose their attractions, you might still dance."

  " No, Piotr Ivanitch, I entreat you, don't make plans!" she said earnestly; " to have to think about dress, to get oneself up, receive a crowd, go out .... Heaven forbid !"

  "You seem to wish to spend all your days in a blouse ? "

  "Yes, if you don't object, I would rather not change it. What is the object of dressing up ? it's a mere waste of money and useless trouble without any advantage."

  "Do you know what?" said Piotr Ivanitch suddenly, " they say that Rubini is engaged to be here this winter; we shall have a round of Italian Opera; I will take a box for us ... . what do you say to it ? "

  " She did not speak.

  " Liza!"

  " It would be useless," she said timidly," I think that, too, would be exhausting for me .... I get so tired."

  Piotr Ivanitch bowed his head, walked to the hearth and leaning against it, gazed at her with—what shall we call it —distress, no not only distress, but with fear, anxiety and alarm.

  " What is the reason, Liza, of this . . . ." he was beginning, but he did not finish the sentence; the word indifference he could not form on his tongue.

  He gazed long in silence at her. In her lifeless, lustreless • eyes, in her face, devoid of all bright play of thought and feeling, in her languid attitude and slow movements, he read the cause of this indifference, about which he feared to inquire; he had guessed the answer already when the doctor had only given him a hint of the danger. He had come to his senses then and began to suspect that while he had fenced his wife in away from any deviation which might have threatened their matrimonial interests, he had not at the same time presented her with any compensations in himself, to make up for the possibly unsanctioned happiness which she might have met outside the pale of marriage—that her home world was nothing more than a prison, thanks to his method, inaccessible to temptation, and unpropitious to any legitimate demonstration of feeling, where she was met at every step by spiked railings and patrols.

  The systematic and calculating nature of his behaviour to

  her had, without his knowledge or intention, amounted to a

  cold and narrow tyranny, and a tyranny over what? a

  woman's heart. To make up for th is ^tyranny, hg_had

  . - lavishedjaxj^r weateTTuxuiv, alTthe externals, "and as he

  ^i inttrffffift tfrf> ~mnHitinng of__hapj)iness—a fearful "rinsfafce;

  v " ~p the more fearful, because it was committed . not from

  ignorance, not from his want of understanding of the heart

  -—he knew it—but from negligence, from egoism ! He had

  forgotten that she had not a factory, that a capital dinner

  and the best wines have almost no significance in the eyes

  of a woman, and meanwhile he had set her to live this life.

  Piotr Ivanitch had a good heart; and even if not from love for his wife, from a feeling of rectitude alone he would have given anything to correct the wrong he had done; but how to correct it ? He had passed more than one sleepless night since the time the doctor had warned him of the

  dangers in regard to his wife's health, trying to find some way of reconciling her to her real position and restoring her drooping strength. And now, standing by the fireplace, he was still ruminating upon it. The idea came i
nto hisjiead that perhaps the germs of serious disease were al readyTufltt ng in herT^aT^fe^as^^ingTcilTed Jjy her colourless and empty life.

  Xold drops of perspiration stood on his brow. He was quite at a loss for remedies, feeling that the heart was more wanted than the head to devise them. But where was he to get the heart? Something told him that if he could have thrown himself at her feet, and have folded her in his arms with tenderness, and with the voice of passion have told her that he only lived for her, that the aim of all his labours, his cares, his career, his gains, was—she; that his systematic way of behaving with her had only been inspired by a consuming, persistent, jealous desire to bind her heart

  to him He knew that such words would have the

  effect of galvanism on a corpse, that she would all at once have blossomed into health and happiness.

  But saying; and proving are two very different things. To prove this, it would be necessary really to feel passion. And, searching in his soul, Piotr Ivanitch could not find there the least trace of passion.. He felt only that his wife was indispensable •^ttr'him, but like the other indispensable things of life, she was indispensable from habit. Granted that he would be ready to feign feeling, to play the part of a lover, however ridiculous it would be at fifty to begin speaking the language of passion; but will you deceive a woman with passion when there is none? And afterwards, would he have the heroism and ability to sustain this character to the degree which would appease the cravings of the heart ? And would not outraged pride be really fatal to her when she found out that what a few years ago would have been a magic potion for her was offered her now as a medicine ? No, after his fashion he had exactly weighed and considered this late step, and he could not decide on it. He fancied that he would do perhaps the same thing, only differently, in the only way now possible. For three months an idea had been working within him which would have in former days seemed an absurdity to him, but now—it was a very different matter!

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  274 ^ COMMON STORY

  He kept it for a resource in extremity; the extremity had come, and he decided to carry out the plan.

  " If this is no use," he thought, "then there is no help for it, come what must! "

  Piotr Ivanitch walked with resolute steps up to his wife and took her hand.

  " You know, Liza," he said, " what a part I play in official life; I am looked on as the most capable secretary in the ministry. This year I shall offer myself for the privy council, and I shall certainly receive a post Do not imagine that my career is ended there; I may go higher still .... and arrive at "

  She looked at him puzzled, waiting to know what this was leading up to.

  " I never doubted your abilities," she said. " I am quite convinced that you will not stop half way, but will reach the highest "

  " No, I shall not; in a few days I shall send in my resignation."

  " ResiguatiflJL? " she said in astonishment, starting up.

  . "What for?"

  14 1 have more to tell you; you know that I have made an arrangement with my partners, and the factory belongs to me alone. It brings me in forty thousand nett profit without any trouble. It goes like a machine wound up."

  " I know; what of it ? " inquired Lizaveta Alexandrovna.

  " I am giving it up."

  " What are you talking about, Piotr Ivanitch ? What is the matter with you?" said Lizaveta Alexandrovna with increasing amazement, looking at him in dismay; <( what is this for? I don't comprehend, I can't understand."

  " Can you really not understand ? "

  -"No 1" said Lizaveta Alexandrovna in perplexity.

  " Cannot you understand that, seeing how depressed you

  are, how your health is suffering .... from the climate, I

  don't think much of my career and my factory, if I cannot

  take you away from here, and devote the remainder of my

  1-days to you . . • . Liza! did you think me incapable of

  sacrifice ? " he added, reproachfully.

  " So it is for my sake!" said Lizaveta Alexandrovna, still bewildered, " no, Piotr Ivanitch 1" she added earnestly,

  deeply moved, " for God's sake, no sacrifices for me! I will not accept it—do you hear ? I absolutely will not! For you to give up working, growing rich and distinguished —and for my sake ! God forbid! I cannot bear this sacrifice ! Forgive me; I was too petty for you, too worthless, too weak to understand and appreciate your lofty aims

  and noble labours You should not have had such a

  wife."

  " Magnanimity still!" said Piotr Ivanitch, shrugging his shoulders. " My intentions are not to be altered, Liza !"

  " Good God! what have I done ! I was thrown like a stone across your path, I am a hindrance to you. What a singular fate !" she added, almost in desperation. If I am not wanted, if I am not needed in life .... will not God have pity on me, will He not take me ? To be a hindrance to you "

  " You are wrong in supposing this sacrifice is hard for me to make. I have had enough of this wooden existence ! I want some repose, some peace; and where am I to rest if not alone with you ? . . . . Let us go to Itali

  " Piotr Ivanitch!" she said, allHU&l 111 lUSrs, " you are good and noble .... I know you are capable of a generous deception .... but perhaps the sacrifice is useless, perhaps already .... it is too late, and you are throwing up your pursuits "

  " Have pity on me, Liza, and don't let me believe that," replied Piotr Ivanitch, " or, you will see lam not made of flint. I repeat to you, that I don't want to live with the head alone; I am not altogether frozen yet."

  She looked at him earnestly, doubtingly.

  " And is that .... true ? " she asked, after a pause, " you really want peace; you are not going away only on * my account ? "

  " No ; on my own account as well."

  " But if it's for my sake, I wouldn't for anything, no, not for anything."

  " No, no! I am unwell, worn out I want to

  rest."

  She gave him her hand, he kissed it with warmth.

  " So we are going tn Ttalv ? " he said.

  " Very well; let us go," she answered in an expressionless voice.

  Piotr Ivanitch felt a load taken off his heart. "Some good will come of it," he thought.

  They sat still a long while, not knowing what to say to one another. There is no saying which would have broken the silence first if they had remained alone together longer. But rapid footsteps were heard from the adjoining apartment. Alexandr made his appearance.

  How he had altered! How he had filled out, how bald he had become, how stout and rosy he had grown ! With what dignity he carried his corpulence, and the decoration on his breast! His eyes were bright with enjoyment. He kissed his aunt's hand with special feelings, and pressed his uncle's hand.

  " Where have you come from ? " asked Piotr Ivanitch.

  " Guess," replied Alexandr significantly.

  " You seem in unusually good spirits to-day," said Piotr Ivanitch, looking at him inquiringly.

  " I bet you a wager you won't guess !" said Alexandr.

  "Ten or twelve years ago, I remember you once rushed in on me in the same way," observed Piotr Ivanitch, " and you broke something of mine too—then I guessed at once that you were in love, but now .... can it be so again ? No, it can't be; you have too much sense to "

  He looked at his wife and suddenly stopped short.

  " Don't you begin to guess ? " asked Alexandr.

  His uncle looked at him and still deliberated.

  " Not this time—are you going, to be married ? " he said hesitatingly.

  " You have guessed! " cried Alexandr in triumph— " Congratulate me!"

  " But really ? To whom ?" asked his uncle and aunt together.

  " To thedaughterjof Alexa ndr Stepan itch."

  " Really j*^well,~~sr7e~is~ a wealthy match," said Piotr Ivanitch. t{ And the father—well ? "

  " I have just come from him. Why should her fathe
r not consent ? Quite the contrary; he listened to my proposal with tears in his eyes, embraced me and said that now he could die happy; that he knows to whom he is entrusting his daughter's happiness .... ' Only walk in,'he said, ' your uncle's footsteps !'"

  " Did he say that ? You see even here your uncle has been of use to you!"

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  x <~ ^ COMMON STORY 277

  1*^ v " But what did the daughter say ? " said Lizaveta Alexan-

  ^^ drovna.

  I "Oh! she did, you know, as all girls do," replied

  f < ^ Alexandr, "she said nothing, only blushed; and when I

  - % > t took her hand, her fingers quite played a tune upon my

  - hand, they trembled so." <. *~* " She said nothing," remarked Lizaveta Alexandrovna. "*■ " Is it possible that you did not take the trouble to ascertain her feelings before you made your offer? Was it a matter of indifference to you ? Why are you going to be n. *•'' married then ? " v r v, "Why! One can't be a butterfly for ever! I am sick : " ^ of solitude; the time has come, ma tante, to settle, to ^ ^; found a family and set up a house of one's own, to fulfil

  i one's duties My fianck is pretty and rich. But

  ^ % " > my uncle here will tell the reasons for getting married; he ^ . ' used to tell me them so precisely."

  Piotr Ivanitch, unobserved by his wife, made a sign to him

  . ; with his hand not to quote him and to hold his tongue, but

  Alexandr did not observe it.

  -^ . - " But possibly she may not care for you," said Lizaveta

  ^ ^^'Alexandrovna "it may be that she loves some one else

  ■^ ^ . . what do you say to that ? "

  Uncle, what would you say? You are better at

  speaking than I But I will quote your own words,"