Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated)

by Ivan Turgenev

BELIAYEV. What did you cry for?

  VERA. Pity. We were all so sorry for her.

  BELIAYEV. Were you educated in Moscow?

  VERA. Yes, at Madame Beauluce’s school in Moscow. Natalya Petrovna took me away last year.

  BELIAYEV. Are you fond of Natalya Petrovna?

  VERA. Yes, she’s so kind. I’m very fond of her.

  BELIAYEV [with a smile]. And you’re afraid of her, I bet.

  VERA [also with a smile]. A little.

  BELIAYEV [after a pause]. And who sent you to school?

  VERA. Natalya Petrovna’s mother. I grew up in her house. I’m an orphan.

  BELIAYEV [letting his hands fall]. You’re an orphan? And you don’t remember your father or your mother?

  VERA. No.

  BELIAYEV, My mother is dead too. We are both motherless. Well we must put up with it! We mustn’t be down - hearted for all that.

  VERA. They say orphans quickly make friends with one another.

  BELIAYEV [looking into her eyes]. Do they? And do you think so?

  VERA [looks into his eyes with a smile]. I think they do.

  BELIAYEV [laughs and sets to work on the kite again]. I should like to know how long I’ve been in these parts.

  VERA. This is the twenty - eighth day.

  BELIAYEV. What a memory you have! Well, here’s the kite finished. Look what a tail! We must go and fetch Kolya.

  KATYA [Coming up to him with the basket]. Won’t you have some more raspberries?

  BELIAYEV. No, thanks, Katya. [KATYA goes off without speaking.]

  VERA. Kolya’s with Lizaveta Bogdanovna.

  BELIAYEV. How absurd to keep a child indoors in this weather!

  VERA. Lizaveta Bogdanovna would only be in our way. . .

  BELIAYEV. But I’m not talking about her. . . .

  VERA [hurriedly]. Kolya couldn’t come with us without her. . . . She was praising you ever so yesterday, though.

  BELIAYEV. Really?

  VERA. Don’t you like her?

  BELIAYEV. Oh, I don’t mind her. Let her enjoy her snuff, bless the woman. Why do you sigh?

  VERA [after a pause]. I don’t know. How clear the sky is!

  BELIAYEV. Does that make you sigh? [A silence.] Perhaps you are depressed?

  VERA. Depressed? No! I never know myself why I sigh. . . . I’m not depressed at all. On the contrary . . . [A pause.] I don’t know.... I think I can’t be quite well. Yesterday I went upstairs to fetch a book - - and all at once, fancy, on the staircase, I sat down and began to cry. Goodness knows why, and my tears kept on coming into my eyes for a long while afterwards. . . . What’s the meaning of it? And yet I am quite happy.

  BELIAYEV. It’s because you’re growing. It’s growing up. It does happen so. ... Of course, I noticed your eyes looked swollen yesterday evening.

  VERA. You noticed it?

  BELIAYEV. Yes.

  VERA. You notice everything.

  BELIAYEV. Oh no, not everything.

  VERA [dreamily]. Alexey Nikolaitch . . .

  BELIAYEV. What is it?

  VERA [after a pause]. What was it I was going to ask you? I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.

  BELIAYEV. You are absent - minded! VERA. No . . . but ... oh yes! This is what I meant to ask. I think you told me - - you have a sister?

  BELIAYEV. Yes.

  VERA. Tell me, am I like her?

  BELIAYEV. Oh no. You’re much better looking.

  VERA. How can that be? Your sister ... I should like to be in her place.

  BELIAYEV. What? You’d like to be in our poor little house at this moment?

  VERA. I didn’t mean that. ... Is your home so small?

  BELIAYEV. Tiny. Very different from this house.

  VERA. Well, what’s the use of so many rooms?

  BELIAYEV. What’s the use? You’ll find out one day how useful rooms are.

  VERA. One day. . . . When?

  BELIAYEV. When you’re the mistress of a house yourself. . . .

  VERA [dreamily]. Do you think so?

  BELIAYEV. Yes, you will see. [A pause.] Hadn’t we better go and fetch Kolya, Vera Alexandrovna?

  VERA. Why don’t you call me Verotchka?

  BEHAYEV. You can’t call me Alexey, can you?

  VERA. Why not?... [Suddenly starting.] Oh!

  BELIAYEV. What’s the matter?

  VERA [in a low voice]. There’s Natalya Petrovna coming this way.

  BELIAYEV [also in a low voice]. Where? VERA [nodding towards the Right]. Over there . . . along the path, with Mihail Alexandritch.

  BELIAYEV [getting up]. Let’s go to Kolya.... He must have finished his lesson by now.

  VERA. Let’s go ... or I’m afraid she’ll scold me. . . . [They get up and walk away quickly to the Left. KATYA hides again in the raspberry bushes. NATALYA PETROVNA and RAKITIN come in on Right.] NATALYA PETROVNA [standing still]. I believe that’s Mr. Beliayev with Vera. RAKITIN. Yes, it is. ...

  NATALYA PETROVNA. It looks as though they were running away from us.

  RAKITIN. Perhaps they are.

  NATALYA PETROVNA [after a pause]. But I don’t think Verotchka ought... to be alone like this with a young man in the garden. . . . Of course, she’s only a child, still, it’s not the proper thing. . . . I’ll tell her.

  RAKITIN. How old is she?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Seventeen! She’s actually seventeen. ... It is hot to - day. I’m tired. Let’s sit down. [They sit down on the seat on which VERA and BELIAYEV have been sitting.] Has Shpigelsky gone home?

  RAKITIN. Yes, he’s gone.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. It’s a pity you didn’t keep him. I can’t imagine what induced that man to become a district doctor. . . . He’s very amusing. He makes me laugh.

  RAKITIN. Well, I thought you were not in a very laughing humour to - day.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. What made you think that?

  RAKITIN. Oh, I don’t know.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Because nothing sentimental appeals to me to - day? Oh, certainly, I must warn you there’s absolutely nothing that could touch me to - day. . . . But that doesn’t prevent me from laughing; on the contrary. Besides, there’s something I had to discuss with Shpigelsky to - day.

  RAKITIN. May I ask what?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. No, you mayn’t. As it is, you know everything I think, everything I do. That’s boring.

  RAKITIN. I beg your pardon. ... I had no idea. . . .

  NATALYA PETROVNA. I want to have some secrets from you.

  RAKITIN. What next! From what you say, one might suppose I know everything. . . .

  NATALYA PETROVNA [interrupting]. And don’t you?

  RAKITIN. You are pleased to make fun of me.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Why don’t you know everything that goes on in me? If you don’t I can’t congratulate you on your insight. When a man watches me from morning to night. . . .

  RAKITIN. What do you mean? Is that a reproach. . . .

  NATALYA PETROVNA. A reproach? [A pause.] No, I see; you certainly have not much insight.

  RAKITIN. Perhaps not . . . but since I watch you from morning to night, allow me to tell you one thing I have noticed. . . .

  NATALYA PETROVNA. About me? Please do.

  RAKITIN. You won’t be angry with me?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Oh no! I should like to be, but I shan’t.

  RAKITIN. For some time past, Natalya Petrovna, you have been in a state of permanent irritability, and that irritability is something unconscious, involuntary: you seem to be in a state of inward conflict, as though you were perplexed. I had never observed anything of the sort in you before my visit to the Krinitsyns’; it has only come on lately. [NATALYA PETROVNA draws lines in the sand before her with her parasol.] At times you sigh - - such deep, deep sighs - - like a man who’s very tired, so tired that he can’t find rest.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. And what do you deduce from that, you observant person?

  RAKITIN. I deduce? Nothing.. .. But it worries me.

  NATALYA PETROVNA.
Humbly grateful for your sympathy.

  RAKITIN. And besides . . .

  NATALYA PETROVNA [with some impatience]. Please, change the subject.

  [A pause.]

  RAKITIN. You have no plans for going out anywhere to - day?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. No. RAKITIN. Why not? It’s so fine.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Too lazy. [A pause.] Tell me . . . you know Bolshintsov, of course?

  RAKITIN. Our neighbour, Afanasy Ivanitch?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Yes.

  RAKITIN. What a question! Only the day before yesterday we were playing preference with him in your house.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. I want to know what sort of man he is.

  RAKITIN. Bolshintsov?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Yes, yes, Bolshintsov.

  RAKITIN. Well, I must say, that I never expected that!

  NATALYA PETROVNA [impatiently]. What didn’t you expect?

  RAKITIN. That you would ever be making inquiries about Bolshintsov! A foolish, fat, tedious man - - though of course there’s no harm in the man.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. He’s by no means so foolish or tedious as you think.

  RAKITIN. Perhaps not. I must own, I haven’t studied the gentleman very carefully.

  NATALYA PETROVNA [ironically]. You haven’t been watching him.

  RAKITIN [with a constrained smile]. And what has induced you? . . .

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Oh, nothing!

  [Again a pause.]

  RAKITIN. Look, Natalya Petrovna, how lovely that dark green oak is against the dark blue sky. It’s all bathed in the sunlight and what rich colours. . . . What inexhaustible life and strength in it especially when you compare it with that young birch tree. . . . She looks as though she might pass away in radiance, her tiny leaves gleam with a liquid brilliance, as though melting, yet she is lovely too. . . .

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Do you know, Rakitin, I noticed it ages ago. You have a very delicate feeling for the so - called beauties of nature, and talk very elegantly and cleverly about them ... so elegantly and cleverly that I imagine nature ought to be unutterably grateful for your choice and happy phrases; you dance attendance on her like a perfumed marquis on high red heels dallying with a pretty peasant girl. . . . Only I’ll tell you what’s wrong, it sometimes seems to me that she could never understand or appreciate your subtle observations, just as the peasant girl wouldn’t understand the courtly compliments of the marquis; nature is far simpler, even coarser, than you suppose, because, thank God, she’s healthy. . . . Birch trees don’t melt or fall into swoons like nervous ladies.

  RAKITIN. Quelle tirade! Nature is healthy . . . that is, in other words, I’m a sickly creature.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. You’re not the only sickly creature, we are neither of us too healthy.

  RAKITIN. Oh, I know that way of telling a person the most unpleasant things in the most inoffensive way. . . . Instead of telling him to his face, for instance, you’re a fool, my friend, you need only tell him with a good - natured smile, we are both fools, you know.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. You’re offended? What nonsense! I only meant to say that we are both . . . since you don’t like the word sickly .. . we are both old, very old.

  RAKITIN. In what way are we old? I don’t think so of myself.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Well, listen; here we are sitting ... on this very seat a quarter of an hour ago two really young creatures have been sitting, perhaps.

  RAKITIN. Beliayev and Verotchka? Of course they are younger than we are . . . there’s a few years’ difference between us, that’s all. . . . But that doesn’t make us old yet.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. The difference between us is not only in years.

  RAKITIN. Ah! I understand. . . . You envy them . . . their naïveté; their freshness and innocence . . their foolishness, in fact.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. You think so? Oh, you think that they are foolish? You think everybody foolish to - day, I see. No, you don’t understand me. And besides . . . foolish? What does that matter? What’s the good of being clever, if you’re not amusing. Nothing is more depressing than that sort of gloomy cleverness.

  RAKITIN. Hm. . . . Why don’t you say it straight out, without these hints? I don’t amuse you . . . that’s what you mean. Why find fault with cleverness in general on account of one miserable sinner like me?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. No, that’s not what I mean. . . . [KATYA comes out from among the bushes.] Have you been picking raspberries, Katya?

  KATYA. Yes, madam.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Show me. [KATYA goes up to her.] What splendid raspberries! What a colour . . . though your cheeks are redder still. [KATYA smiles and looks down.] Well, run along - - - -

  [KATYA goes out]

  RAKITIN. There’s a young creature after your taste.

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Of course. [Gets up]

  RAKITIN. Where are you going?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. First, I want to see what Verotchka’s doing . . . it’s time she was indoors . . . and secondly I must own I don’t like our conversation. We had better drop our disscussions of nature and youth for a time.

  RAKITIN. Perhaps you would rather walk alone?

  NATALYA PETROVNA. To tell the truth, I should. We shall see each other again soon. . . . But we are parting friends? [Holds out her hand to him]

  RAKITIN [getting up]. Yes indeed! [Presses her hand]

  NATALYA PETROVNA. Good - bye for the present. [She opens her parasol and goes off at Left]

  RAKITIN [walks up and down for some time]. What is the matter with her? [A pause.] Simply caprice. But is it? I have never seen that in her before. On the contrary, I know no woman less moody. What is the reason? [Walks to and fro again and suddenly stands still.] Ah, how absurd a man is who has only one idea in his head, one object, one interest in life. . . . Like me, for instance. It was true what she said: one keeps watching trifling things from morning to night, and one grows trivial oneself. . . . That’s so; but without her I can’t live, in her presence I am more than happy; the feeling can’t be called happiness, I belong to her entirely, parting from her would . . . without exaggeration ... be exactly like parting with life. What is wrong with her? What’s the meaning of her agitation, the involuntary bitterness of her words? Is she beginning to be weary of me? Hm? [Sits down.] I have never deceived myself, I know very well how she loves me; but I hoped that with time that quiet feeling ... I hoped? Have I the right to hope, dare I hope? I confess my position is pretty absurd . . . almost contemptible. . . . [A pause.] What’s the use of talking like that? She’s an honest woman, and I’m not a Lovelace. [With a bitter smile.] More’s the pity! [Getting up quickly.] Well, that’s enough! I must put this nonsense out of my head! [Walking up and down.] What a glorious day! [A pause.] How skilfully she stung me! ... My choice and happy expressions. . . . She’s very clever, especially when she’s in a bad humour. And what’s this sudden adoration of youth and innocence? . . . This tutor. . . . She often talks about him. I must say I see nothing very striking in him. He’s simply a student, like all students. Can she .. . impossible! She’s out of humour . . . she doesn’t know what she wants and so she snaps at me, as children beat their nurse. ... A flattering comparison! But she must go her own way. When this fit of depression and uneasiness is over, she will be the first to laugh at that lanky boy, that raw youth. . . . Your explanation is not bad, Mihail Alex - andritch, but is it true? God knows! Well, we shall see. It’s not the first time, my dear fellow, that after endless fretting and pondering you have had suddenly to give up all your subtle conjectures, fold you hands and wait meekly for what is to come. And meanwhile you must recognize it’s pretty awkward and bitter for you. . . . But that’s what I’m for, it seems. . . . [Looking round.] Ah, here he is, our unsophisticated young man! . . . Just when he’s wanted. ... I haven’t once had a real talk with him. Let’s see what he’s like. [BELIAYEV comes in on Left.] Ah! Alexey Nikolaitch! So you have come out for a turn in the fresh air too?

  BELIAYEV. Yes.

  RAKITIN. Though
I must say the air is not so very fresh to - day: the heat’s terrific, but in the shade here under these lime trees it’s endurable. [A pause.] Did you see Natalya Petrovna?

  BELIAYEV. I met her just now. ... She’s gone indoors with Vera Alexandrovna.

  RAKITIN. Wasn’t it you I saw here half an hour ago with Vera Alexandrovna?