Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated)

by Ivan Turgenev

  Olga: Continue.

  Kuzovkin: You yourself demanded it. [Rubs his face with his hand.] Oh, Lord, oh, Lord! Help me, sinner that I am! Well, your father got attached to this woman — may she be eternally condemned! — he visited her daily and often didn’t return home for the night. Things went topsy - turvy. Your mother used to sit all alone for days, in silence, or she would weep. I, of course, sat here, too, and my heart was bursting for pain, but I didn’t say a word. Moreover, I thought my foolish words wouldn’t help her anyway. The other neighbors, the land - owners, etc., didn’t willingly come to visit your father; he drove them away from his house with his high airs. So it came about that your dear mother hadn’t anyone to say a word to her. She used to sit, the dear woman, near the window and wouldn’t even feel like reading anything. She’d sit there for hours and gaze upon the highroad and upon the fields, and your father’s bad habits grew worse, though there was no apparent reason for it. He became so severe that it was unendurable, and here again was a surprise. He began to grow jealous of your mother, and there was no one to be jealous of, the Lord knows. He used to go away and lock her in her room. Every nonsense would bring him into a rage, and the more your mother tried to please him, the worse he grew. Finally, he stopped talking to her altogether; in fact, he gave her up. Oh, Olga Petrovna, Olga Petrovna, she suffered at that time, very much! You cannot remember her, Olga Petrovna. You were too young, my dear girl, when she died. Such a good soul as she was, I am sure there isn’t one left. And how she loved your father! But he didn’t even look at her, and in his absence she used to talk to me about him and how to help the matter, how to please him. Suddenly one day he packed up and went to Moscow, saying that he was going alone on business, but he didn’t go alone. At the first station this woman neighbor awaited him, and together they went away, and for six months — six whole months — nothing was heard from them. For six months, Olga Petrovna, he didn’t even write a letter home. Suddenly he returned, and was so down - hearted and so mad. The woman had left him, as we afterwards heard. He shut himself up in his room, and didn’t come out at all. Everybody in the house was greatly surprised at his actions. Your mother finally couldn’t resist. She crossed herself, for the poor woman feared him, and went into his room. She began to plead with him, but he began to shout, and lifting a cane . . . [Kuzovkin looks at Olga.] I beg your pardon, Olga Petrovna.

  Olga: Are you telling me the truth, Yasili Semenych?

  Kuzovkin: May the Lord strike me dead upon this very spot!

  Olga: Continue, then.

  Kuzovkin: And so he . . . oh, Olga Petrovna! — and so he insulted your mother with words and . . . The poor woman almost as if insane, came running back to her room, and he called people, and in the distant field . . . Here . . . here something happened . . . [His voice weakens.] I cannot tell any more, Olga Petrovna, so help me the Lord, I” cannot! . . .

  Olga [not looking at him]: Speak! [After some little silence with impatience.] Speak!

  Kuzovkin: I shall obey you, Olga Petrovna. I am inclined to think that from this terrible insult your deceased mother’s mind turned a little. She got sick. As if I were seeing her now, she went into the image room, stopped in front of the ikons, lifted her hand as if to cross herself, but suddenly turned away and left the room. She even laughed quietly. The Evil One surely got the best of her. I felt badly, looking at her. At the table she didn’t eat anything. She was silent, and had her eyes fixed upon me. And in the evening . . . Evenings, Olga Petrovna, I used to sit with her in this very room. Sometimes we’d play cards for want of something better to do, and sometimes we’d indulge in a little conversation. Well, on that evening . . . [His voice chokes him] your deceased mother after a long silence threw herself upon me . . . and I, Olga Petrovna, almost worshipped the ground your mother walked upon, and I loved your mother. Suddenly she said to me: “Vasili Semenych, I know you love me, and he hates me. He has left me, insulted me, and so I . . .” Well, her judgment must have left her, Olga Petrovna. She completely lost herself . . . and I, but I . . . but I do not remember anything. My head was swimming. It is swimming even now when I think of it. Suddenly she gave herself up. Olga Petrovna, have mercy upon an old man ... I cannot. I’d sooner have my tongue cut out. [Olga is silent and turns away from him. Kuzovkin looks at her, and then continues somewhat quickly.] On the following day, as I remember now, I didn’t remain in the house. At dawn I ran off to the woods. The day after that a messenger on horseback came riding into the yard, and when he was asked what brought him there, he said that Master had fallen from his horse and been killed; that he was lying there unconscious. That was on the following day, Olga Petrovna, on the following day. Your mother had a carriage ordered and went to him. He lay in a little house on the prairie belonging to the priest, about forty versts away. As fast as she drove, she did not find him alive. Oh, Lord, oh, Lord! We all thought that she’d go insane. She was sick up to your birth, and didn’t get any better even after. You know yourself she didn’t live long after you were born. [He hangs his head.]

  Olga [after a long silence]: That means, then, that I’m your daughter.” But what proofs have you?

  Kuzovkin [with some animation]: Proofs? What kind of proofs can I have? I haven’t any proofs. How would I dare? . . . and if it weren’t for yesterday’s misfortune, I am quite sure that I never should have told it, even on my dying bed. I should have torn my tongue out first. And why didn’t I die yesterday? Not a single soul knew or heard of it until yesterday. Being alone, I never even dared think of it. After the death of your father, I wanted to run away as far as my legs could carry me, but I confess that I hadn’t the courage. Poverty scared me. I remained, and I am guilty. But in the presence of your deceased mother I never talked about it, I didn’t even let a breath of it out, Olga Petrovna. Proof! The first months after that I didn’t even see your mother. She shut herself up in her room, and with the exception of Praskovia, she didn’t admit anyone. Then, when I saw her, I swear before the Lord, that I was afraid to look her in the face. Proofs? Olga Petrovna, I am not a criminal, and I’m not a fool — I know my place. If you hadn’t ordered me to tell . . . Don’t get worked up, Olga Petrovna. Why do you bother yourself about it? What proof can I have? Don’t believe me, an old fool. I told a lie and that’s all, for surely, sometimes, I don’t know what I am talking about. My mind is failing. Don’t believe anything, Olga Petrovna — that’s all. What proofs could I have?

  Olga: No, Vasili Semenych. I’m going to be very truthful in the matter. You couldn’t think up such ... To spread calumny of the dead — no, that’s too awful . . . [She turns away from him.] No, I believe you.

  Kuzovkin [in a weak voice]: You believe me . . .

  Olga: Yes . . . [She looks at him and shudders.] But it is terrible, terrible! [Quickly goes to one side.]

  Kuzovkin [with hands stretched in her direction]: Olga Petrovna, calm yourself ... I understand you . . . You, with your education . . . But I, I repeat, if it weren’t for you, I should tell you that . . . But I know myself very well. Do you really think that I don’t feel all this . . .? I love you as my own . . . For, after all, you are . . . [Quickly gets up.] Don’t be afraid. I’ll never let that word pass my lips . . . Forget our whole conversation. I’ll leave to - day, now. I cannot remain here any longer. I cannot. Well, I’ll pray for you there. [Tears appear in his eyes.] And everywhere, wherever I am, I shall pray for you and your husband. I am myself to blame. I can say that I alone am the cause of denying myself my last happiness. [He weeps.]

  Olga [with inexpressible nervousness]: What does this all mean? However it was, he’s my father . . . [Turning around and seeing him weeping.] He is weeping . . . Don’t cry, stop! . . . [She goes up to him.]

  Kuzovkin [stretching his hands out to her]: Forgive me, Olga Petrovna. . . .

  [Olga stretches her hands toward him undecidedly. She wants to force herself to throw herself upon his neck, but immediately, with a shudder, turns away and runs off to the office. Kuzovk
in remains in the same place.]

  Kuzovkin [pressing his hands to his heart]: My Lord, my Lord! What is the matter with me?

  [Eletski’s voice from behind the door]: Have you locked yourself in, Olga?

  Kuzovkin [coming to himself]: Who is that? . . . He . . . Yes ... I wonder what he wants to say? . . .

  Eletski’s Voice: Tropachev has come to see us. Je vous l’annonce, Olga! Answer me! . . . Vasili Semenych, are you there?

  Kuzovkin: Yes, sir.

  Eletski’s Voice: And where is Olga Petrovna?

  Kuzovkin: She went out.

  Eletski’s Voice: Oh! Open the door for me!

  [Kuzovkin opens the door and Eletski enters.]

  Eletski [looking around, to himself]: This looks so strange. [To Kuzovkin, coldly and sternly.] Are you going away?

  Kuzovkin: Yes, sir.

  Eletski: Well, how did your conversation end?

  Kuzovkin: The conversation? . . . The conversation? ... To tell the truth, we didn’t talk at all. Only I asked Olga Petrovna’s forgiveness.

  Eletski: Well, and what did she do?

  Kuzovkin: She said that she was no longer angry at me, and I am now getting ready to go away.

  Eletski: Olga Petrovna consequently did not change my decision?

  Kuzovkin: No, sir.

  Eletski: Hm! ... I am very sorry . . . But you understand, Vasili Semenych that . . . that . . .

  Kuzovkin: Yes, sir, Pavel Nikolaich. I fully agree with you. You have acted most charitably towards me. I am extremely obliged to you.

  Eletski: I am pleased to note that you feel, at least, that’ you are to blame, and so good - bye. ... If you are in need of anything, please don’t stand on ceremony. Although I have given orders to the manager regarding you, nevertheless you can always turn directly to me . . .

  Kuzovkin: I am extremely obliged to you. [Bows.]

  Eletski: Good - bye, Vasili Semenych. However, wait a moment. Eh ... eh ... eh . . . Mr. Tropachev has come to see us, and he is coming right in. I wish that you would repeat in his presence that which you told me this morning . . .

  Kuzovkin: Yes, sir.

  Eletski: Very well. [To the entering Tropachev.] Mais venez done, venez done!

  [Tbopachev enters, showing his usual affectation.]

  Tropachev: Of course I’ll come in. But your billiard table is a most excellent one! Just imagine, Mr. Ivanov refused to play with me! He said, “My head aches.” Mr. Ivanov has a headache! Et madame? I hope she is well.

  Eletski: She is well, thank the Lord, and she’ll be in presently.

  Tropachev [with amiable familiarity]: Your arrival is a most fortunate affair for us countrymen. Ha, ha, ha! Une bonne fortune. [He looks around and notices Kuzovkin.] Oh, Lord, and you’re here?

  [Kuzovkin bows silently.]

  Eletski [to Tropachev, pointing with his chin to Kuzovkin]: Yes, he has been very much upset to - day after yesterday’s piece of foolishness. He has been begging our pardon since morning.

  Tropachev: Oh, it’s very apparent that he and drink are not company. What do you say?

  Kuzovkin [not lifting his eyes]: I am guilty. It was positively senseless — that’s all I can say.

  Tropachev: Ah, ha! That’s it, owner of Vietrovo. [To Eletski.] Well, a thought like that will come into a fellow’s head . . . After this finally, it is nothing surprising to know that one insane fellow will — well, I don’t know what to say — but let us say will consider himself a Chinese emperor, and that another, as I have heard said, will imagine that he has the sun and the moon and everything you want, right in his stomach. Ha, ha, ha! That’s the way — that’s the way, Mr. Kuzovkin.

  Eletski [wishing to change the conversation]: Yes. . . . What did I want to ask you about, Flegont Aleksandrych? When shall we go hunting?

  Tropachev: Whenever you like. . . . You see, I do not stand on ceremony with you. I was here yesterday, and I’m here again to - day. So be the same way with me. Wait a moment, I’m going to ask Karpachov. He knows that better. He will tell us where to go. [Goes up to the door of the reception - room.] Karpachov! Come in, my dear fellow. [To Eletski.] He’s a good shot, though I always win from him in billiards. [Karpachov enters.] Karpachov, Pavel Nikolaich wants to go hunting to - morrow. Where shall we go, huh?

  Karpachov: Let us go to Koloberdovo, to Vokhriak. There must be a lot of partridges there now.

  Eletski: And is it far from here?

  Karpachov: By the high road, thirty versts, but crosscountry, it will be a little less.

  Eletski: Very well. [Praskovia enters from the office.] What do you want?

  Praskovia [bowing to Eletski]: Madame would like to 6ee you.

  Eletski: What for?

  Praskovia: I cannot tell.

  Eletski: Tell her that I’ll see her presently. [To Tropachev.] Will you permit me?

  [Praskovia goes out.]

  Tropachev [shaking his head]: Oh, Pavel Nikolaich, aren’t you ashamed to ask such a question? Go, for the Lord’s sake!

  Eletski: I shall not keep you waiting long. [Goes out.]

  [Kuzovkin, who had been standing all the time near the door of the reception - room, wants to take advantage of this moment and go out.]

  Tropachev [to Kuzovkin]: Where do you want to go, my dear fellow? Remain here — we’ll have a little chat.

  Kuzovkin: I must go.

  Tropachev: Oh, nonsense, you mustn’t. Perhaps you feel a little ashamed. . . . But that’s nonsense, too. Who doesn’t occasionally . . . [Takes him by his arm and brings him to the front of the stage.] That is, wait a minute. What I wanted to say was, Who doesn’t occasionally take a drink too much? I must confess, though, that you quite surprised us last night. But how effectively you said that! That was a great thought. Just think of it!

  Kuzovkin: It was due to my foolishness — that’s all.

  Tropachev: That may be so, but it was surprising. But why a daughter? Wonderful! You will admit that you wouldn’t refuse to be the father of such a daughter. [He pokes him in the ribs.] Tell me — would you refuse? [To Karpachov.] He doesn’t want to speak about nonsense. What do you think? [Karpachov laughs.]

  Kuzovkin [wants to take his hand away from Tropachev]: Permit me . . .

  Tropachev: Why did you get angry at us yesterday, hm? Tell me.

  Kuzovkin [turning his head away and speaking semi - audibly]: I am to blame.

  Tropachev: That’s it. Well, the Lord will forgive you. So she is your daughter, huh? [Kuzovkin is silent.] Listen, my dear fellow, why don’t you call upon me sometimes? I will treat you right.

  Kuzovkin: I am extremely obliged to you.

  Tropachev: Things are nice down my way. Ask this man here. [Pointing to Karpachov.] You could tell me once more about the Vietrovo affair.

  Kuzovkin [almost inaudibly]: Yes, sir.

  Tropachev: It seems to me that you didn’t greet Karpachov this morning. [To Karpachov.] Karpach, did you greet Vasili Semenych?

  Karpachov: No, sir.

  Tropachev: Ah, my dear fellow, that’s bad.

  Karpachov: Permit me to do it right now. [With arms outstretched he goes to Kuzovkin. Kuzovkin retreats. The office door opens quickly and Eletski enters. He is pale and agitated.]

  Eletski [grieved]: Flegont Aleksandrych, it seems to me that I asked you to leave Kuzovkin in peace.

  [Tropachev, surprised, turns around and looks at Eletski. Karpachov remains in his position.]