Libanova: Stop your nonsense.
Gobski: Then let’s play petits jeus innocents.
Libanova: Whatever you like. However, I am not talking for myself . . . the manager must be waiting for me in the office . . . Has he come, Varvara Ivanovna?
Varvara Ivanovna: Very likely he has come.
Libanova: Find out, my dear.
[Varvara Ivanovna goes out.]
Libanova: Viera, come here . . . Why are you so pale? Aren’t you well?
Viera: I am all right.
Libanova: That’s good. Oh, yes, Waldemar, don’t forget to remind me. ... I want you to do something for me in the city. [To Viera.] II est si complaisant!
Viera: II est plus que cela, mama, il est bien.
[Stanitsyn smiles.]
Libanova: What is it you are examining so attentively, Mr. Mukhin?
Mukhin: Italian views.
Libanova: Oh, yes. I bought those . . . un souvenir . . . I love Italy ... I was very happy there! [Sighs.]
Varvara Ivanovna [entering]: Fedot has come, Anna Vasilevna.
Libanova [getting up]: He has come? [To Mukhin.] Find — there is a view of Lake Maggiore. It is beautiful! [To Varvara Ivanovna.] Is the bailiff there too?
Varvara Ivanovna: He is there.
Libanova: Well, good - bye, mes enfants . . . Eugene, I leave them in your care. Amusez - vous . . . Mlle. Beinaime is coming to your assistance.
[Mlle. Beinaime enters from the reception - room.]
Libanova: Come, Varvara Ivanovna. [They go out into the reception - room.]
[A short silence ensues.]
Mlle. Beinaime [dryly]: Et bien, que ferons - nous?
Mukhin: Yes, what are we going to do?
Stanitsyn: That is the question.
Gorski: Hamlet said that before you, Vladimir Petrovich! [Suddenly livening up.] Well, let’s, let’s . . . You see how it pours . . . Really, why should we sit with our hands folded?
Stanitsyn: I am ready . . . and you, Viera Nikolaevna?
Viera [who has remained immovable all the time]: I am also . . . ready.
Stanitsyn: That’s fine!
Mukhin: Have you thought up something, Evgeni Andreevich?
Gorski: I have, Ivan Pavlych! This is what we’ll do: we’ll sit around the table . . .
Mlle. Beinaime: Ah, ce sera charmant!
Gorski: N’est - ce pas? We’ll write our names on pieces of paper, and the person whose name is drawn out first, will have to tell some impossible, fantastic story — about himself, or somebody else, or anything at all. Libert^ entiere, as Anna Vasilevna says.
Stanitsyn: Very well, very well.
Mlle. Beinaime: Ah! Tres bien, tres bien. [Together.]
Mukhin: But what kind of a story?
Gorski: Whatever one can think of . . . Well, let’s sit down, let’s sit down. Would you like to take part, Viera Nikolaevna?
Viera: Why not? [Sits down.]
[Gorski sits down on her right; Mukhin on her left; Stanitsyn, beside Mukhin, and Mlle. Beinaime near Gorski.]
Gorski: Here is a sheet of paper . . . [Tears it in pieces.] Now, I’ll put our names down. [Does so and collects the pieces of paper.]
Mukhin [to Vieba]: Why are you so pensive to - day, Viera Nikolaevna?
Viera: What makes you think that I am not always so? You are seeing me for the first time.
Mukhin [smiling faintly]: Oh, no; it is not possible that you are always that way.
Vieba [slightly grieved]: Really? [To Stanitsyn.] Your candy is very delicious, Waldemar!
Stanitsyn: I am very glad . . . that I pleased you . . .
Gobski: Oh, you ladies’ man! [Mixes the papers.] Now, it’s ready. Who will draw? Mlle. Beinaime, voulez - vous?
Mlle. Beinaime: Mais tres volontiers. [Takes a paper and reads with a grimace.] Mr. Stanitsyn.
Gorski [to Stanitsyn]: Well, tell us something, Vladimir Petrovich.
Stanitsyn: What do you want me to tell you? I do not know . . .
Gorski: Something. You can tell anything that comes into your head.
Stanitsyn: But nothing comes into my head.
Gorski: Well, that is indeed unfortunate.
Viera: I agree with Stanitsyn. How can one tell anything without preparation?
Mukhin [quickly]: I am of the same opinion.
Stanitsyn: Show us an example, Evgeni Andreevich. You begin.
Viera: Yes, you begin.
Mukhin: Begin, begin.
Mlle. Beinaime: Oui, commencez, Monsieur Gorski.
Gorski: If you insist, you shall have it. I begin . . . Hm . . . [Coughs.]
Mlle. Beinaime: Hi, hi, nous allons rire.
Gorski: Ne riez pas d’avance . . . And so, listen: A certain baron . . .
Mukhin: Had a dream?
Gorski: No, had a daughter.
Mukhin: That’s almost the same.
Gorski: Oh, Lord, how witty you are to - day! And so, a certain baron had a daughter. She was very handsome; her father loved her very much. Everything went along agreeably. Suddenly, one fine day, the baroness convinced herself that life, in reality, was a very fine thing. She grew gloomy, commenced to K’«ep, took sick, and had to go to bed. Her Kammerfrau immediately ran to the father, who went to his daughter, looked at her, shook his head and said, “M - m - m - m - hm!” in German, walked out with measured steps, and having called his secretary, dictated to him three invitations to three noblemen of ancient families, — all good - looking men. On the following day, dressed in fine raiment, they bowed, in turn, before the baron, and the young baroness smiled as usual, — in fact, more than usual, — and scrupulously examined her suitors: for the baron was a diplomat and the three young noblemen were suitors.
Mukhin: How you stretch it out!
Gorski: My dear friend, what’s the difference?
Mlle. Beinaime: Mais oui, laissez - le faire.
Viera [looking at him attentively]: Continue.
Gorski: And so, the baroness had three suitors. Whom should she choose? The heart gives the best answer to such a question. But when the heart wavers? . . . The young baroness was a bright and far - seeing maiden. She resolved to subject the suitors to an examination. Once, when she was alone with one of them, — a light - haired man, — she turned to him suddenly, and asked: “What are you ready and willing to do in order to show your love for me?” The light - haired man, cold - blooded by nature but inclined to exaggerate, answered warmly: “I am ready, at your command, to throw myself from the highest belfry in the world.” The baroness smiled kindly, and on the following day, propounded the same question to another suitor, a flaxen - haired man, apprising him in advance, of the answer of the first. He gave the same answer, but if possible, with more animation. The baroness finally turned to the third man, a dark - com - plexioned fellow. This fellow hesitated out of politeness, and then answered that he would agree to anything else, with pleasure even, but that he wouldn’t throw himself from the highest belfry, because, with a broken head, he could not propose. The baroness was a little grieved at the dark - complexioned man; but, as she liked him, possibly a little more than the other two, she insisted that he should at least promise. “I shall not demand fulfillment.” But the dark - complexioned man, being a conscientious fellow, didn’t want to promise anything . . .
Viera: You are in a pious mood to - day, Gorski!
Mlle. Beinaime: Non, il n’est pas en veine, c’est vrai. Not good, not good.
Stanitsyn: Another story, another one.
Gorski [somewhat grieved]: I am not fit to - day — not every day — (To Viera.] You, for instance, are different today from what you were yesterday.
Viera: I don’t know what you mean to say by that. [She gets up.]
[Everybody gets up.]
Gorski [turning to Stanitsyn]: You cannot imagine, Vladimir Petrovich, what a marvelous evening we passed yesterday! I am sorry that you were not here, Vladimir Petrovich. Mile. Beinaime was an eyewitness of it all. Viera Nikolaevna and mysel
f rowed on the pond for more than an hour. Viera Nikolaevna was so delighted with the evening, she felt so happy ... It seeemd as if she were in fairyland . . . Tears came to her eyes ... I shall never forget that evening, Vladimir Petrovich!
Stanitsyn [sadly]: I believe you.
Viera [who has not taken her eyes from Gorski]: Yes, we were quite jolly, last night. You were also, as you say, in fairyland . . . Imagine, gentlemen, Gorski quoted poetry to me, — and such sweet, dreamy poems!
Stanitsyn: He read poems for you?
Viera: Surely . . . and in such a peculiar tone of voice ... as though he were sick, and with such peculiar sighs . . .
Gorski: You, yourself, requested that, Viera Nikolaevna. You know that, voluntarily, I seldom indulge in such lofty feelings . . .
Viera: On account of that, it was the more surprising to me. I know that you would rather laugh than — than sigh, for instance, or . . . dream.
Gorski: I agree to that! And in truth, name me a thing that is not worth laughing at! Friendship, family, happiness, love? All these lovely things are good for momentary pastimes, then — may the Lord grant us legs to run with! A respectable man must restrain himself from falling into these soft
[Mukhin, smilingly, looks first upon Viera, then upon Stanitsyn, and so on. Viera notices if.]
Viera [slowly]: It seems that you are talking from personal convictions now. But why are you so wrought up? No one doubts that you have always entertained such ideas.
Gorski [with a forced smile]: That’s not so. Yesterday, you were of a different opinion.
Viera: How do you know? No, jokes aside, Gorski! Permit me to give you some friendly advice: Don’t ever become sentimental. It is not becoming to you . . . You are bright . . . You will get along without that — Oh, it looks as if it had stopped raining! Look, what a beautiful sun! Let’s go into the garden. Stanitsyn, let me have your arm. [Turns around quickly and takes Stanitsyn’s arm.] Bonne amie, venez - vous?
Mlle. Beinaime: Oui, allez toujours . . . [Takes her hat from the piano and puts it on.]
Viera [to the rest]: And you, gentlemen, are you not coming? Stanitsyn, let’s run!
Stanitsyn [running into the garden with Viera]: If you please, Viera Nikolaevna, if you please.
Mlle. Beinaime: M. Mukhin, voulez - vous me donner votre bras?
Mukhin: Avec plaisir, Mademoiselle . . . [To Gorski.] Good - bye, dark - complexioned man! [Goes out with Mlle. BeinaimIs.]
Gorski [alone, goes up to the window]: How she runs! Doesn’t even turn around to look . . . And Stanitsyn, Stanitsyn — stumbles for joy! [Shrugs his shoulders.] Poor fellow! He does not realize his condition — Is he really a poor fellow? I think I have put my foot in too deep. What can be the matter with my liver? During the whole of my fable, that cur didn’t take his eyes off me! ... I shouldn’t have recalled yesterday evening. If it seemed to her, — surely, my dear friend, Evgeni Andreevich, you can pack your trunk. And it is time — I have implicated myself. [Paces a little.] Oh, fate, misfortune of fools, and providence of bright people! Come to my aid! [Looks around.] Who is that? Chukhanov? Maybe he can . . .
Chukhanov [carefully walking in from the dining - room]: Oh, my dear Evgeni Andreevich! How glad I am to find you here alone!
Gorski: What do you want?
Chukhanov [semi - audibly]: Evgeni Andreevich! You see, this is the case: Anna Vasilevna, — may the Lord grant her her health! — promised me timber for a house; but forgot to give the order to the manager — and without her order, I won’t get it.
Gorski: Well, remind her.
Chukhanov: I am afraid to, my dear man. Be so kind — I shall pray for you for the rest of my life. Mention, in a couple of words, somehow . . . [Winking.] You are an artist in such matters — maybe you can say something accidentally? [Win - fcs more noticeably.] Especially, since you are almost master of the house. [Chuckles.]
Gorski: Really? If so, with pleasure.
Chukhanov: I shall be obliged to you for the remainder of my life. [Loud, and winking.] Should you want something — wink at me. [Thumps his back.] Oh, what a splendid fellow you are!
Gorski: Very well, I’ll do everything I can for you.
Chukhanov: Yes, sir. Your Highness! The venerable Chukhanov never bothers anybody. Reports, asks, and leaves the rest to those in power. I am very pleased and much obliged. Left, march! [Goes into the dining - room.]
Gorski: Well, it seems that nothing will come out of this “occurrence.” [Footsteps are heard back of the garden door.] Who can it be running so? Ho! Stanitsyn!
Stanitsyn [running in, panting]: Where is Anna Vasi - levna?
Gorski: Whom do you want?
Stanitsyn [stopping suddenly]: Gorski, if you only knew! . . .
Gorski: You are beside yourself with joy — what’s the matter?
Stanitsyn [taking him by the hand]: Gorski, by right I shouldn’t — but I cannot — joy just chokes me ... I know you have always been interested in me . . . Just imagine . . . who could imagine it? . . .
Gorski: But what is it?
Stanitsyn: I have just asked Viera Nikolaevna to marry me, and she
Gorski: And she?
Stanitsyn: Just imagine, Gorski, she has consented — just now — in the garden — She has permitted me to ask Anna Vasilevna — Gorski, I am as happy as a child . . . What a wonderful girl! . . .
Gorski [hardly able to repress his agitation]: And you are going to Anna Vasilevna?
Stanitsyn: Yes, I know that she will not refuse me. Gorski, I am happy, indescribably happy ... I would like to embrace the whole world . . . Let me, at least, embrace you. [Embraces Gorski.] Oh, how happy I am! [Runs out.]
Gorski [after a long silence]: Bravissimo! [Bows in the direction of Stanitsyn.] I have the honor to congratulate you — [Walks around the room, vexed.] I confess, I did not expect this. She is a clever hussy. However, I must leave immediately ... Or, no, I’ll stay. Pshaw, how disagree
ably my heart is beating! It is nasty . . . [After a moment’s thought.] Well, I am broken down . . . And how shamefully broken. I am neither here, nor there where I should . . . [Goes up to the window and looks into the garden.] They are coming . . . Let’s die, at least, honorably. [Puts.on his hat as though he intended to go into the garden, and in the doorway he runs into Mukhin, Yiera, and Mlle. Beinaime.]
[Viera has Mlle. Beinaime’s arm.]
Gorski: You are returning already! And I was just going to join you . . .
[Viera does not lift her eyes.]
Mlle. Beinaime: II fait encore trop mouille.
Mukhin: Why didn’t you come along with us?
Gorski: Chukhanov detained me . . . You have been running quite a little, Viera Nikolaevna!
Viera: Yes, I am hot.
[Mlle. Beinaime and Mukhin walk away to one side, then they begin to play on the pool table, which is in the rear.]
Gorski [semi - audibly]: I know it all, Viera Nikolaevna. I did not expect it.
Viera: You know . . . But I am not surprised — He is quite outspoken.
Gorski [reproachfully]: You will regret.
Viera: No.
Gorski: You acted under the influence of grief.
Viera: Very likely; but I have acted very sensibly and will not regret . . . You applied to me Lermontov’s poems: you told me that I would never return from whence chance should take me ... In addition to this, you know, Gorski, you know, that with you I should have been most unhappy.
Gorski: Quite a compliment.
Viera.: I am saying what I believe. He loves me, and you . . .
Gorski: And I?
Viera: You cannot love anybody. Your heart is cold: only your imagination is fiery. I am talking to you as to a friend, about things of long ago . . .
Gorski [dully]: I have insulted you.
Viera: Yes; and you did not love me enough to have the right to insult me . . . However, these are all things of the past . . . Let’s part friends . . . Give me your hand.
Gorski:
I am surprised at you, Viera Nikolaevna. You are as penetrable as glass, young as a two - year - old child, and as resolute as Frederick the Great. Give you my hand! Don’t you realize how sore I am at heart?
Viera: Your selfishness was hurt; but that’s nothing. That will heal up.
Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) Page 359