Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) (428 page)

Karpatchov stays motionless.]

Tropatchov [with some embarrassment]. You told . . . I don’t remember.

Yeletsky [goes on sharply and harshly]. Yes, Flegont Alexandritch, I confess that I wonder how you . . . with your education . . . your breeding . . . can care to amuse yourself. . . with such ... I venture to say . . . stupid jokes . . . and two days running, too. . . .

Tropatchov [making a sign to Karpatchov, who at once skips away and draws himself up erect]. But, excuse me, Pavel Nikolaitch ... of course I . . . Though I do really agree with you . . . yet on the other hand . . . And your good lady, is she quite well?

Yeletsky. Yes . . . she will be here immediately. . . . \Smiling and pressing Tropatchov’s hand.] Please excuse me.... I’m rather out of sorts to - day.

Tropatchov. Oh, don’t mention it, Pavel Nikolaitch, as though it mattered. . . . And indeed you are quite right ... it never does to be too familiar with persons of that sort. . . . [Yeletsky winces slightly.] What a glorious day! [A moment’s silence.] Of course, you really are right. . . it’s a mistake to go on living too long in the country! On se rouille a la compagne. . . . It’s awful . . . one’s bored, you know. . . . One gets into bad ways.

Yeletsky. Please, say no more about it, Flegont Alexandritch.

Tropatchov. Oh, no; I meant in general; it was a general observation, you know. [Again a brief silence.] I don’t believe I told you ... I am going abroad next winter.

Yeletsky. Ah! [To Kuzovkin, who is again trying to go.] Stay, Vassily Semyonitch ... I have a few words to say to you.

Tropatchov. I propose staying a couple of years abroad. . . . And Madame? Shall we have the pleasure of seeing her to - day?

Yeletsky. Why, of course. But meanwhile wouldn’t you like a turn in the garden? It’s such a lovely day — un petit tour? Only if you don’t mind, I won’t come with you. I have to talk things over with Vassily Semyonitch. ... But in a few minutes. . . .

Tropatchov. Make yourself at home, ha! ha! my dear Pavel Nikolaitch! You see to your own affairs, and don’t hurry — and meanwhile in company with this individual I’ll enjoy the beauties of nature. . . . I’m cracked over nature! Venez ici, Karpy. [He goes out with Karpatchov.]

Yeletsky [walks after them, closes the door, comes hack to Kuzovkin, and folds his arms]. Sir! yesterday I looked on you as a nonsensical and tipsy man; to - day I am forced to regard you as a slanderer and a blackmailer. . . . Don’t interi upt me! a slanderer and a blackmailer. Olga Petrovna has told me everything. You didn’t expect that, perhaps, sir? What explanation can you give me of your conduct? This morning you acknowledged yourself that what you said yesterday was pure invention. . . . To - day in conversation with my wife. .. .

Kuzovkin. I am sorry. My heart. . . .

Yeletsky. I don’t care a hang about your heart. I ask you again; you were lying? [Kuzovkin is silent.] Were you lying?

Kuzovkin. I have told you already I didn’t know what I was saying yesterday.

Yeletsky. But to - day you know what you were saying. And after that you have the courage to look a decent man in the face? And you are not crushed with shame?

Kuzovkin. Pavel Nikolaitch, indeed you are too severe with me. Kindly consider what advantage could I gain from my talk with Olga Petrovna?

Yeletsky. I’ll tell you what advantage. You hoped by this absurd tale to excite her sympathy. You reckoned on her generosity — it was money you wanted. . . . Yes, yes, money. And I must tell you you have gained your object. Listen, my wife and I have decided to pay a sufficient sum to provide for your future on condition. . . .

Kuzovkin. But I want nothing!

Yeletsky. Don’t interrupt me! . . . On condition that you choose your place of residence a good way off.

From myself I add: by accepting this sum from us, you thereby admit your lie. . . . That word I see makes you wince — your invention, let us say, and consequently renounce all claim. ...

Kuzovkin. But I won’t take a penny from you!

Yeletsky. What, sir? You persist, then? Am I to suppose that you spoke the truth, then? Kindly explain yourself.

Kuzovkin. I can say nothing. Think what you like of me — but I won’t take anything.

Yeletsky. This is beyond everything! You mean to remain here, perhaps?

Kuzovkin. I am going to - day.

Yeletsky. Oh, you are! But what a position you leave Olga Petrovna in! You might consider that if you’ve a trace of feeling in you.

Kuzovkin. Let me go, Pavel Nikolaitch. My head is in a whirl, indeed. What do you want of me?

Yeletsky. I want to know, will you take this money? Perhaps you think it’s not enough? We are giving you ten thousand roubles.

Kuzovkin. I cannot take anything.

Yeletsky. You cannot? Then my wife is your . . . I cannot bring myself to utter the word!

Kuzovkin. I know nothing. . . . Let me go. \Is about to go out.]

Yeletsky. This is too much! But do you know that I can force you to . . .

Kuzovkin. And how, may I ask?

Yeletsky. Don’t try my patience too far! . . . Don’t compel me to remind you what you are!

Kuzovkin. I am a gentleman born. . . . That’s what I am!

Yeletsky. A fine gentleman, I must say!

Kuzovkin. One who cannot be bought, at any rate.

Yeletsky. Listen. . . .

Kuzovkin. You can treat your clerks in Petersburg like this, if you choose....

Yeletsky. Listen, you obstinate old man. You don’t want to injure your benefactress, do you? You have once admitted the falsehood of your words; what do you lose by reassuring Olga Petrovna completely — and taking the money we offer you? Are you so rich that ten thousand roubles is nothing to you?

Kuzovkin. I am not rich, Pavel Nikolaitch; but your little present is too bitter. I have swallowed shame enough without that. .. yes, indeed. You are pleased to say I want money. I don’t want money, sir. I won’t take a rouble for my journey from you.

Yeletsky. Oh! I know what you’re reckoning on! You pretend to be so disinterested; you’re hoping to get more by it. For the last time I tell you: either you’ll take this money on the conditions I’ve put to you, or I shall have recourse to measures ... to measures. . . .

Kuzovkin. But what do you want of me, my God! It’s not enough for you that I’m going away: you want me to be disgraced too, you want to buy me. .. . But no, Pavel Nikolaitch, that shall not be.

Yeletsky. O damnation! ... I tell you. [At that instant Tropatchov’s voice is heard under the window; he is humming: ‘I am here, beloved, below thy window here.’] This is insufferable! [Going to the window.] I’m coming ... I’m coming
           
[To Kuzovkin.] I give you a quarter of an hour to think things over... after that you must take the consequences. [Goes out.]

Kuzovkin. My God, what are they doing to me? I’d rather die! . . . I’ve been my own ruin! My tongue’s my enemy. That grand gentleman — he spoke to me as though I were a dog ... as though I have no heart! . . . Well, he may kill me. . . . [Olga comes out of the study; there are papers in her hand. Kuzovkin looks round.] Good heavens! . . .

Olga [going up to Kuzovkin irresolutely]. I wanted to see you once more, Vassily Semyonitch.

Kuzovkin [not looking at her]. Olga Petrovna . . . why . . . did you . . . tell your husband?

Olga. I have never concealed anything from him, Vassily Semyonitch.

Kuzovkin. Oh. ...

Olga [hurriedly]. He believed me. . . . [Dropping her voice.] And agreed to everything.

Kuzovkin. Agreed? What did he agree to?

Olga. Vassily Semyonitch, you are kind . . . you are generous. You will understand. Tell me, can you stay here?

Kuzovkin. I cannot.

Olga. No, listen. ...
I want to know what you really think. ... I have learned to appreciate you, Vassily Semyonitch. ... Tell me then, tell me frankly.. . .

Kuzovkin. I feel your kindness, Olga Petrovna, and believe me, I too can appreciate. . . . [He pauses and goes on with a sigh.] No, I cannot stay here ... I can’t possibly. I might be beaten, may be, in my old age. And why not own the truth? — now I’ve grown staid and sober — there’s been no master in the house for so long . . . there’s been nobody to bully me. . . . But there are the old servants still living; they’ve not forgotten. . . . It’s quite true I was something like a clown for your papa’s diversion. ... At times I would play the fool in fear of the rod . . . and sometimes of my own accord. . . . [Olga turns away.] Don’t let it grieve you, Olga Petrovna. . . . You see, after all. .. I’m nothing but a stranger to you . . . really. ... I can’t stay.

Olga. If so . . . take . . . this. . . . [Holds out a note to him.]

Kuzovkin [takes it, wondering]. What is it?

Olga. It’s ... we offer you ... the money ... to buy back your Vyetrovo. ... I hope you won’t refuse us . . . me... I mean.

Kuzovkin [drops the note and hides his face in his hands]. Olga Petrovna, why do you, you too, insult me?

Olga. How?

Kuzovkin. You want to buy me off. But I’ve told you there are no proofs whatever. . . . How do you know that I haven’t made it all up, that I hadn’t designs ... in fact. ...

Olga [interrupting him eagerly]. If I didn’t believe you, should we have agreed. . . .

Kuzovkin. You believe me — what more do I want? — what do I want with this money? I’ve never been used to luxury from a child — I’m not going to begin in my old age. . . . What do I need? A bit of bread . . . that’s all. If you believe me
      
[Stops short.]

Olga. Yes. . . . Yes ... I do believe you. No, you are not deceiving me — no ... I believe you, I do. [Suddenly embraces him and presses her head to his breast.]

Kuzovkin. Olga Petrovna darling . . . give over . . . Olya. . . . [Staggers and sinks into chair on Left.]

Olga [supports him with one arm, while with the other hand she swiftly picks the note from the floor and presses close up to him] You might refuse a stranger, a rich woman — you might refuse my husband — but your daughter, your own daughter, you cannot, you cannot refuse. [Thrusts the note into his hand.]

Kuzovkin [taking the note with tears]. Very well, Olga Petrovna, it shall be as you wish, bid me what you please, I’m ready, I’m glad to do it — bid me go to the ends of the earth. Now I can die, now I want nothing more. ... [Olga wipes his tears with her handkerchief.] Oh, Olya my little Olya. . . .

Olga. Don’t cry — don’t cry. . . . We will see each other. . . . You shall come. . . .