Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) (307 page)

‘Listen, Fyodor Fedoritch... only speak a little more softly... papa’s asleep.’

Mr. Perekatov had indeed as usual dropped asleep on the sofa, with his head hanging and his mouth a little open.

‘What is it?’ Kister inquired with curiosity.

‘You will laugh at me.’

‘Oh, no, really!...’

Masha let her head sink till only the upper part of her face remained uncovered by her hands and in a half whisper, not without hesitation, asked Kister why it was he never brought Mr. Lutchkov with him. It was not the first time Masha had mentioned him since the ball.... Kister did not speak. Masha glanced timorously over her interlaced fingers.

‘May I tell you frankly what I think?’ Kister asked her.

‘Oh, why not? of course.’

‘It seems to me that Lutchkov has made a great impression on you.’

‘No!’ answered Masha, and she bent over, as though wishing to examine the pattern more closely; a narrow golden streak of light lay on her hair; ‘no... but...’

‘Well, but?’ said Kister, smiling.

‘Well, don’t you see,’ said Masha, and she suddenly lifted her head, so that the streak of light fell straight in her eyes; ‘don’t you see... he...’

‘He interests you....’

‘Well... yes...’ Masha said slowly; she flushed a little, turned her head a little away and in that position went on talking. ‘There is something about him so... There, you’re laughing at me,’ she added suddenly, glancing swiftly at Fyodor Fedoritch.

Fyodor Fedoritch smiled the gentlest smile imaginable.

‘I tell you everything, whatever comes into my head,’ Masha went on: ‘I know that you are a very’... (she nearly said great) ‘good friend of mine.’

Kister bowed. Masha ceased speaking, and shyly held out her hand to him; Fyodor Fedoritch pressed the tips of her fingers respectfully.

‘He must be a very queer person!’ observed Masha, and again she propped her elbows on the frame.

‘Queer?’

‘Of course; he interests me just because he is queer!’ Masha added slily.

‘Lutchkov is a noble, a remarkable man,’ Kister rejoined solemnly. ‘They don’t know him in our regiment, they don’t appreciate him, they only see his external side. He’s embittered, of course, and strange and impatient, but his heart is good.’

Masha listened greedily to Fyodor Fedoritch.

‘I will bring him to see you, I’ll tell him there’s no need to be afraid of you, that it’s absurd for him to be so shy... I’ll tell him... Oh! yes, I know what to say... Only you mustn’t suppose, though, that I would...’ (Kister was embarrassed, Masha too was embarrassed.)... ‘Besides, after all, of course you only... like him....’

‘Of course, just as I like lots of people.’

Kister looked mischievously at her.

‘All right, all right,’ he said with a satisfied air; ‘I’ll bring him to you....’

‘Oh, no....’

‘All right, I tell you it will be all right.... I’ll arrange everything.’

‘You are so...’ Masha began with a smile, and she shook her finger at him. Mr. Perekatov yawned and opened his eyes.

‘Why, I almost think I’ve been asleep,’ he muttered with surprise. This doubt and this surprise were repeated daily. Masha and Kister began discussing Schiller.

Fyodor Fedoritch was not however quite at ease; he felt something like a stir of envy within him... and was generously indignant with himself. Nenila Makarievna came down into the drawing - room. Tea was brought in. Mr. Perekatov made his dog jump several times over a stick, and then explained he had taught it everything himself, while the dog wagged its tail deferentially, licked itself and blinked. When at last the great heat began to lessen, and an evening breeze blew up, the whole family went out for a walk in the birch copse. Fyodor Fedoritch was continually glancing at Masha, as though giving her to understand that he would carry out her behests; Masha felt at once vexed with herself, and happy and uncomfortable. Kister suddenly, apropos of nothing, plunged into a rather high - flown discourse upon love in the abstract, and upon friendship... but catching Nenila Makarievna’s bright and vigilant eye he, as abruptly, changed the subject. The sunset was brilliant and glowing. A broad, level meadow lay outstretched before the birch copse. Masha took it into her head to start a game of ‘catch - catch.’ Maid - servants and footmen came out; Mr. Perekatov stood with his wife, Kister with Masha. The maids ran with deferential little shrieks; Mr. Perekatov’s valet had the temerity to separate Nenila Makarievna from her spouse; one of the servant - girls respectfully paired off with her master; Fyodor Fedoritch was not parted from Masha. Every time as he regained his place, he said two or three words to her; Masha, all flushed with running, listened to him with a smile, passing her hand over her hair. After supper, Kister took leave.

It was a still, starlight night. Kister took off his cap. He was excited; there was a lump in his throat. ‘Yes,’ he said at last, almost aloud; ‘she loves him: I will bring them together; I will justify her confidence in me.’ Though there was as yet nothing to prove a definite passion for Lutchkov on Masha’s part, though, according to her own account, he only excited her curiosity, Kister had by this time made up a complete romance, and worked out his own duty in the matter. He resolved to sacrifice his feelings — the more readily as ‘so far I have no other sentiment for her but sincere devotion,’ thought he. Kister really was capable of sacrificing himself to friendship, to a recognised duty. He had read a great deal, and so fancied himself a person of experience and even of penetration; he had no doubt of the truth of his suppositions; he did not suspect that life is endlessly varied, and never repeats itself. Little by little, Fyodor Fedoritch worked himself into a state of ecstasy. He began musing with emotion on his mission. To be the mediator between a shy, loving girl and a man possibly embittered only because he had never once in his life loved and been loved; to bring them together; to reveal their own feelings to them, and then to withdraw, letting no one know the greatness of his sacrifice, what a splendid feat! In spite of the coolness of the night, the simple - hearted dreamer’s face burned....

Next day he went round to Lutchkov early in the morning.

Avdey Ivanovitch was, as usual, lying on the sofa, smoking a pipe. Kister greeted him.

‘I was at the Perekatovs yesterday,’ he said with some solemnity.

‘Ah!’ Lutchkov responded indifferently, and he yawned.

‘Yes. They are splendid people.’

‘Really?’

‘We talked about you.’

‘Much obliged; with which of them was that?’

‘With the old people... and the daughter too.’

‘Ah! that... little fat thing?’

‘She’s a splendid girl, Lutchkov.’

‘To be sure, they’re all splendid.’

‘No, Lutchkov, you don’t know her. I have never met such a clever, sweet and sensitive girl.’

Lutchkov began humming through his nose:

 
‘In the Hamburg Gazette,

  
You’ve read, I dare say,

  
How the year before last,

  
Munich gained the day....’

‘But I assure you....’

‘You ‘re in love with her, Fedya,’ Lutchkov remarked sarcastically.

‘Not at all. I never even thought of it.’

‘Fedya, you’re in love with her!’

‘What nonsense! As if one couldn’t...’

‘You’re in love with her, friend of my heart, beetle on my hearth,’ Avdey Ivanovitch chanted drawling.

‘Ah, Avdey, you really ought to be ashamed!’ Kister said with vexation.

With any one else Lutchkov would thereupon have kept on more than before; Kister he did not tease. ‘Well, well, sprechen Sie deutsch, Ivan Andreitch,’ he muttered in an undertone, ‘don’t be angry.’

‘Listen, Avdey,’ Kister began warmly, and he sat down beside him. ‘You know I care for you.’ (Lutchkov made a wry face.) ‘But there’s one thing, I’ll own, I don’t like about you... it’s just that you won’t make friends with any one, that you will stick at home, and refuse all intercourse with nice people. Why, there are nice people in the world, hang it all! Suppose you have been deceived in life, have been embittered, what of it; there’s no need to rush into people’s arms, of course, but why turn your back on everybody? Why, you’ll cast me off some day, at that rate, I suppose.’

Lutchkov went on smoking coolly.

‘That’s how it is no one knows you... except me; goodness knows what some people think of you... Avdey!’ added Kister after a brief silence; ‘do you disbelieve in virtue, Avdey?’

‘Disbelieve... no, I believe in it,’... muttered Lutchkov.

Kister pressed his hand feelingly.

‘I want,’ he went on in a voice full of emotion, ‘to reconcile you with life. You will grow happier, blossom out... yes, blossom out. How I shall rejoice then! Only you must let me dispose of you now and then, of your time. To - day it’s — what? Monday... to - morrow’s Tuesday... on Wednesday, yes, on Wednesday we’ll go together to the Perekatovs’. They will be so glad to see you... and we shall have such a jolly time there... and now let me have a pipe.’

Avdey Ivanovitch lay without budging on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Kister lighted a pipe, went to the window, and began drumming on the panes with his fingers.

‘So they’ve been talking about me?’ Avdey asked suddenly.

‘They have,’ Kister responded with meaning.

‘What did they say?’

‘Oh, they talked. There’re very anxious to make your acquaintance.’

‘Which of them’s that?’

‘I say, what curiosity!’

Avdey called his servant, and ordered his horse to be saddled.

‘Where are you off to?’

‘The riding - school.’

‘Well, good - bye. So we’re going to the Perekatovs’, eh?’

‘All right, if you like,’ Lutchkov said lazily, stretching.

‘Bravo, old man!’ cried Kister, and he went out into the street, pondered, and sighed deeply.

IV

Masha was just approaching the drawing - room door when the arrival of Kister and Lutchkov was announced. She promptly returned to her own room, and went up to the looking - glass.... Her heart was throbbing violently. A girl came to summon her to the drawing - room. Masha drank a little water, stopped twice on the stairs, and at last went down. Mr. Perekatov was not at home. Nenila Makarievna was sitting on the sofa; Lutchkov was sitting in an easy - chair, wearing his uniform, with his hat on his knees; Kister was near him. They both got up on Masha’s entrance — Kister with his usual friendly smile, Lutchkov with a solemn and constrained air. She bowed to them in confusion, and went up to her mother. The first ten minutes passed off favourably. Masha recovered herself, and gradually began to watch Lutchkov. To the questions addressed to him by the lady of the house, he answered briefly, but uneasily; he was shy, like all egoistic people. Nenila Makarievna suggested a stroll in the garden to her guests, but did not herself go beyond the balcony. She did not consider it essential never to lose sight of her daughter, and to be constantly hobbling after her with a fat reticule in her hands, after the fashion of many mothers in the steppes. The stroll lasted rather a long while. Masha talked more with Kister, but did not dare to look either at him or at Lutchkov. Avdey Ivanovitch did not address a remark to her; Kister’s voice showed agitation. He laughed and chattered a little over - much.... They reached the stream. A couple of yards or so from the bank there was a water - lily, which seemed to rest on the smooth surface of the water, encircled by its broad, round leaves.