Darya [in an undertone]. Three o’clock ... or you won’t get the post. [Moves away from him and takes her parasol from the table.]
Count [coming back to her]. Give me your arm. [Aside.] I understand you.
Darya [with a scarcely perceptible smile]. You think so?
Stupendyev [as though waking up]. Allow me, allow me . . . I’ll come with you.
Darya [stopping and looking round.]. You’d like to come too, mon ami? Come along, come with us. [She goes with the Count towards the door into garden.]
Stupendyev. Yes . . . yes, I’m coming. [Seizes his hat and takes a few steps.]
Darya. Come along, come along. . . . goes out with the Count.]
Stupendyev [takes a few steps further, crushes up his hat and flings it on the floor]. No, hang it all! I’ll stay here! I’m not going! [Walks about the room.] I’m a man of action, I don’t like half - measures. I want to see how far ... I want to see this through to the end. I want the evidence of my own eyes. That’s what I want.... Why, it’s something unheard of! What though she did know him in childhood, what though she is a woman of culture, a woman of the highest culture — what does she want to make a fool of me for? Is it because I’ve not had a good education? In the first place that’s not my fault. Talking of a post up in Petersburg — why, what nonsense! Am I to believe that? Is it likely? This Count’s going to give me a post all at once! And after all he’s nobody so high and mighty himself — his affairs are in a shocking mess. . . . Even supposing he really is going to get me a post of some sort up in Petersburg — why all this tfete and tete with him the whole day? . . . It’s not proper! Why, he’s promised — and that’s the end of it. Three o’clock. . . . Tells me, too, to wait till three o’clock [Looks at his watch] and now it’s only a quarter past two! [Stops short.] I will go into the garden, so there! [Looks out.] I say, they’re not in sight. [Picks up hat and straightens it.] I will go, dash it all, I will. She herself, she actually said [Mimics his wife] do come, mon ami, come along! [A pause.] Yes, going indeed, not likely! No, my dear, I know you ... as though you’d go! You’re going this minute, are you? Ugh! [With vexation flings his hat on floor again. Misha walks in.]
Misha [going up to Stupendyev]. What’s the matter, Alexey Ivanitch? You don’t seem quite yourself. [Picks up hat, straightens it and lays it on the table.] What’s wrong?
Stupendyev. Let me alone, please. You needn’t come bothering me anyway.
Misha. Alexey Ivanitch, please don’t say such things; I hope I haven’t been worrying you in any way?
Stupendyev [a pause]. It’s not you who’s worrying me, but [waves arm in direction of the garden] that’s who is!
Misha [glancing towards the door, in an innocent voice]. Who’s that, may I ask?
Stupendyev. Who?.. . He. . . .
Misha. Who is he, Alexey Ivanitch?
Stupendyev. As though you don’t know! This Count!
Misha. In what way can he be worrying you?
Stupendyev. In what way! . . . Here he’s not left Darya Ivanovna’s side all the morning, singing with her, going for a walk. . . . Do you suppose . . . that . . . that’s pleasant? Is it pleasant — eh? for a husband, that is.
Misha. For a husband it does not matter.
Stupendyev. Doesn’t matter? Don’t you hear: he’s walking with her, singing with her.
Misha. Is that all? . . . Really, Alexey Ivanitch, it’s too bad of you to ... be worried. You know it’s all being done for your benefit, so to speak. The Count is a person of consequence, with influence, and knew Darya Ivanovna as a child — what, are we to refuse to take advantage of it? Good gracious, Alexey Ivanitch! Why, we should be ashamed to look any right - thinking man in the face if we did! I feel I’m expressing myself strongly, too strongly, but it’s my devotion to you. . . .
Stupendyev. Get along with your devotion! down and turns away.]
Misha. Alexey Ivanitch. ... [A pause.] Alexey Ivanitch!
Stupendyev [without stirring]. Well, what do you want?
Misha. Why are you sitting like this? Let’s go for a walk.
Stupendyev. I don’t want to.
Misha. Come along . . . really, we’d better, Alexey Ivanitch.
Stupendyev [turning quickly and folding his arms]. And what are you after, eh? Why have you been following me about all the morning? Have you been told off to look after me like a nurse, or what?
Misha [dropping his eyes’]. Well, yes, Alexey Ivanitch.
Stupendyev [getting up]. Who put you up to it, if I may ask?
Misha. It’s all for your good, Alexey Ivanitch.
Stupendyev. Kindly inform me who set you to look after me?
Misha [with a sort of moan]. Only for goodness sake, do listen to me, Alexey Ivanitch. Two words, Alexey Ivanitch, just two words. ... I can’t explain exactly. There, I do believe it’s coming on to rain . . . they’ll be here in a minute....
Stupendyev. It’s coming on to rain and you ask me to come for a walk!
Misha. But we needn’t go out of doors. . . . Really, Alexey Ivanitch, don’t be so upset.. . . What are you afraid of? . . . We are here, you know, we are watching. . . . Why, the whole thing seems so ordinary. . . . You’ll be back, you see, at three o’clock. . . .
Stupendyev. But what are you fussing about? What did she tell you?
Misha. She didn’t tell me anything, Alexey Ivanitch, precisely... but only ... Oh dear, you know you are both my benefactors. You are my benefactor, and Darya Ivanovna is my benefactress, and besides, she’s a relation. How can I help doing my best? . . . [Takes him by the arm.]
Stupendyev. I shall stay, I tell you! My place is here! I’m master in this house. ... I will defeat their plot! Here!
Misha. Of course you are master, Alexey Ivanitch; but since I tell you I know all about it. . .
Stupendyev. What of it? Do you suppose she can’t bamboozle you? No fear, you’re young and foolish, my boy. You don’t know what women are. . . .
Misha. How should I?.. . Only you see .. .
Stupendyev. I found the Count here and with my own ears heard him persisting: you don’t know my feelings, madam, he said; I’ll reveal them, my feelings, that is, he said. . . . And you ask me to go for a walk!
Misha [miserably]. I do believe it’s spotting with rain. . . . Alexey Ivanitch! Alexey Ivanitch!
Stupendyev. How he keeps on! [Apause.] It really is raining!
Misha. They are coming here, they are coming. . . . [Again takes him by the arm.]
Stupendyev [resisting], I won’t, I tell you! [Apause.] Well, hang it all, then, let’s go!
Misha. The hat! The hat! Let me get it. . . .
Stupendyev. Never mind the hat! Leave it! [They run out into hall. Darya and the Count come in from garden.]
Count. Charmant, charmant!
Darya. You like it?
Count. Your garden is extremely nice, like everything else here. [A pause.] Darya Ivanovna, I must own ... I didn’t expect all this; I’m enchanted, simply enchanted. . . .
Darya. What didn’t you expect, Count?
Count. You understand me. But when will you show me that letter?
Darya. What do you want it for?
Count. What for? ... I should like to know whether I felt the same in those days, those splendid days when we were both so young. . ..
Darya. Count, I think we had better not recall those days.
Count. But why not? Surely, Darya Ivanovna, you must see what an impression you have made on me! . . .
Darya [embarrassed]. Count. . . .
Count. Do, do listen to me. ... I am telling you the truth. When I came here, when I saw you, I confess that I thought — forgive me, please — I thought that you only wanted to renew your acquaintance with me. ...
Darya [raising her eyes’]. And you were not mistaken.
Count. And so I . . .I . . .
Darya [with a smile]. Go on, Count, go on.
Count. Then I suddenly realized that I have to do with an exceedingly f
ascinating woman, and now I must frankly acknowledge you have completely turned my head. . . .
Darya. You are laughing at me, Count.
Count. Me laughing at you?
Darya. Yes, you are. Let us sit down, Count. Allow me to say a few words. [Sits down.]
Count [sitting down]. You still won’t believe me!
Darya. And would you have me believe you? Nonsense. ... As though I don’t know the sort of impression I’m making on you. To - day, goodness knows why, you find me attractive; to - morrow you will forget me. [He tries to break in but she stops him.] Put yourself in my position. . . . You are still young and brilliant, you live in the great world; you are only a chance visitor here! . . .
Count. But. . .
Darya [stopping him]. You have noticed me in passing. You know that our paths in life lie so far apart... it costs you nothing to assure me of your... your friendship. .. . But I, Count, I who am doomed to spend my whole life in solitude — I must treasure my peace of mind, I must keep strict watch over my heart, if I don’t want later . . .
Count [interrupting]. Your heart, your heart; vous dites heart? But do you suppose I haven’t a heart too? And how do you know that it, my heart, has not... is not stirred, in fact? You say solitude? But why solitude?
Darya. I expressed myself badly, Count; I am not alone — I have no right to speak of solitude.
Count. I understand, I understand — your husband . . . but surely . . . surely. . . . This is only between us, you know . . . it’s only . . . de la sympathie. [A brief silence.] Only something, I must own, wounds me; it wounds me that you won’t be just to me, that you look on me as some sort..
I don’t know . . . sort of deceiver . . . that you won’t believe in me, in fact. . . .
Darya [after a pause, looking sideways at him]. So I am to believe you, Count?
Count. Ah, vous etes charmante. [Takes her hand. Darya Ivanovna seems at first about to withdraw it, then leaves it. The Count kisses it ardently.] Yes, believe me, Darya Ivanovna, believe me, I’m not deceiving you. I will keep all my promises. You are going to live in Petersburg. You . . . you . . . will see. And not in solitude . . . I’ll answer for that. You say I shall forget you! If only you don’t forget me!
Darya. Valeryan Nikolaitch!
Count. Now you see yourself how unpleasant, how wounding it is to be doubted! Why, I might just as well fancy that you were playing a part, que ce n’est pas pour mes beaux yeux. . . .
Darya. Valeryan Nikolaitch!
Count [more and more ardent and getting up from his seat]. But no matter what opinion you may have of me! ... I . . . I must tell you that I am devoted to you, heart and soul, that I’m in love with you, in fact, passionately in love with you, passionately, and ready to swear it on my knees!
Darya [getting up~. On your knees, Count!
Count. Yes, on my knees, if that weren’t considered — well, somewhat theatrical.
Darya. Why so? . . . No, I confess that must be very delightful — for a woman. [Turning quickly to the Count.] Do go down on your knees, Count, if you really are not laughing at me.
Count. With pleasure, Darya Ivanovna, if only that will make you believe me. . . . [With some difficulty kneels down.]
Darya [lets him kneel, then quickly goes up to him]. Good heavens, Count, what are you doing! Get up, I was joking.
Count [tries to get up but cannot]. Never mind, let me be. Je vous aime, Dorothee. ... Et vous?
Darya. Get up, I entreat you. . . . [From hall appears Stupendyev whom Misha tries in vain to hold back.] Get up. . . . [She makes signs while with difficulty suppressing laughter.] Get up. . . . [The Count looks at her in amazement and notices her signs.] But get up, I tell you. . .
Count. To whom are you signalling?
Darya. Get up, for goodness sake, get up!
Count. Give me your hand.
[During this dialogue Stupendyev has come up to the Count. Misha has remained in the doorway. Darya Ivanovna looks at the Count and at her husband and sinks into a low chair with a peal of laughter. The Count looks round in embarrassment and sees Stupendyev. The latter bows to him. The Count addresses him with annoyance.]
Count. Kindly help me to get up, sir. ... I have . . . somehow . . . fallen on my knees. Do help me!
[Darya Ivanovna leaves off laughing.]
Stupendyev [tries to lift him under the arm - pits]. Certainly, your Excellency. . . . Excuse me . . . if . . . er. . . .
Count [pushing him away and gallantly leaping up]. Oh, very well, very well, you needn’t go on. [Going up to Darya Ivanovna.] Capital, Darya Ivanovna, I am very grateful to you.
Darya [assuming an imploring tone]. How am I to blame, Valeryan Nikolaitch?
Count. Oh, you are not to blame, not in the least! No one can help laughing at what is ridiculous — I’m not reproaching you for it, I assure you; but as far as I could observe, this has all been arranged with your husband beforehand.
Darya. What makes you think that, Count?
Count. Why do I think so? Because one does not usually make signs and laugh in such circumstances.
Stupendyev [who has been listening]. Indeed, your Excellency, nothing was arranged between us, I assure you, your Excellency. [Misha tugs at his coat.]
Count [to Darya Ivanovna with a bitter laugh]. Well, after that, it will be hard for you to deny it. . . . [A pause.] Though there’s really no reason you should. I have thoroughly deserved it.
Darya. Count. ...
Count. Please don’t apologize. [A pause. To himself.] What a disgrace! There’s only one way to get out of this silly position. . . . [Aloud, to Darya Ivanovna.] Darya Ivanovna. . . .
Darya. Yes?
Count. You are expecting perhaps that I shan’t keep my word now, that I’m going away at once, and shan’t forgive you your performance. I might perhaps be justified in doing so, for after all it’s not the thing to make fun of a decent man like this; but I should like you too to find out with whom you have had to do. Madame, je suis un galant homme. Besides, I always respect the fair sex even when I suffer at their hands. ... I will stay to dinner, if Mr. Stupendyev does not object — and I repeat I will keep all my promises, now more than ever. . . .
Darya. Valeryan Nikolaitch, you too I hope will not have such a poor opinion of me; you won’t think, will you, that I don’t appreciate . . . that I am not deeply touched by your generosity? ... I have been to blame towards you, but you will come to know me better, as I have you now. . . .
Count. Oh dear! Why all these protestations? . . . It’s not worth so much gratitude. . . . But how well you play your comedy!
Darya. Count, you know one can only play it well when one feels what one is saying....
Count. Ah, you’re at it again! . . . No, excuse me — I’m not going to be caught twice over. [Turning to Stupendyev.] I must seem very ridiculous to you at this moment, sir; but I will endeavour to prove my desire to be of use to you. . . .
Stupendyev. Your Excellency, I assure you . . . [Aside.] I can’t make head or tail of it.
Darya. And there’s no need you should. . . . Only thank his Excellency.
Stupendyev. Your Excellency, believe me . . .
Count. That’s enough, that’s enough.
Darya. I will thank you in Petersburg, Valeryan Nikolaitch.
Count. And you’ll show me the letter?
Darya. I will, and perhaps with an answer.
Count. Eh bien! il n’y a pas a dire, vous etes charmante apres tout. . . and I regret nothing.
Darya. I may perhaps not be able to say that. . . . [Count strikes an attitude, she smiles.]
Stupendyev [aside, looking at his watch], I came in at a quarter to three instead of at three.
Misha [timidly approaching Darya Ivanovna]. Darya Ivanovna, what about me?... I think you’ve forgotten me.
And I have worked so hard!
Darya [aside], I haven’t forgotten you. . . . [Aloud.] Count, allow me to present to you a young man. [Misha bows.] I take an
interest in him and if. . .
Count. You take an interest in him? . . . That is enough. . . . Young man, you may reckon on it, we won’t forget you.
Misha [obsequiously]. Your Excellency . . .
[Apollon comes in from entry.]
Apollon. Dinner. . . .
[Vassilyevna follows him in.]
Vassilyevna. Dinner is ready.
Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) Page 341