Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) (427 page)

and off to him. He was lying in a little village in the steppe, at the priest’s, thirty miles away. In spite of all her haste, poor dear, she did not find him alive. My God! we all thought she would go out of her mind. . . . She was ailing right up to the time of your birth — and never recovered afterwards. ... As you know she was not long for this world. . . . [His head droops.]

Olga. So then ... I am your daughter. . . . But what proofs have you?

Kuzovkin [eagerly]. Proofs? Good gracious, Olga Petrovna, proofs! I’ve no proofs whatever. As though I should dare! Why, if it hadn’t been for the misfortune yesterday, I wouldn’t have said a word to my dying day, I’d have cut my tongue out sooner! And why didn’t I die yesterday? Good gracious! Not a soul till yesterday, Olga Petrovna, what an idea. ... I didn’t dare to think of it, even by myself alone. After the death of your . . . father . . . I wanted to run away . . . anywhere ... I did wrong to stop. I hadn’t the courage, I was afraid of want, of cruel poverty. I did wrong, I remained. ... But in your mother’s presence I could hardly breathe, let alone speak or anything, Olga Petrovna. Proofs! In those first months I didn’t see your mother at all — she shut herself up in her room, and wouldn’t see anyone but Praskovya Ivanovna, her maid; later on . . . later on, I did see her certainly, but in the sight of God I say it, I was afraid to look her in the face. . . . Proofs! Why indeed, Olga Petrovna, I’m not a criminal anyway, and not a fool — I know my place. And if you had not yourself commanded . . . don’t be troubled, Olga Petrovna, please. . . . What are you worried about? What proofs could there be! Don’t you believe an old fool like me . . . I’ve been lying . . . that’s all. ... As a matter of fact, I sometimes don’t know what I’m saying. . . . I’m in my dotage.... Don’t believe it, Olga Petrovna, that’s all. Proofs indeed!

Olga. No, Vassily Semyonitch, I won’t have any deception with you. .. . You couldn’t. . . invent such a ... To slander the dead — no, that would be too terrible. . . . [Turning away.] No, I believe you.

Kuzovkin [in a faint voice]. You believe me. . . . Oi.ga. Yes. [Glancing at him and shuddering.] But! it’s awful, awful! [Moves quickly aside.]

Kuzovkin [stretching out his hands towards her], Olga Petrovna, don’t be uneasy ... I understand you. . . . You with your education . . . and I ... I would tell you what I am . . . only for your sake . . . but I know very well what I am. . . . Oh dear, do you suppose I don’t feel it all? . . . You know I love you like my own. . . . You see, after all, you are. . . . [Gets up quickly.] Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, my tongue shall never utter the word. . . . Forget all our talk, and I’ll go away to - day, at once. . . . You see I can’t stay here now, I can’t possibly. . . . Well, there too I can pray for you . . . [Tears come into his eyes] and everywhere . . . for you and for your husband . . . and, of course it’s all my own fault. . . . I’ve robbed myself, you may say of my last happiness. . . . [Sheds tears.]

Olga [in indescribable agitation]. Oh, what does it mean! Why, he’s my father, after all. . . . [Turns, and seeing that he is weeping.] He’s crying . . . don’t cry, there, there. . . . [She goes up to him.]

Kuzovkin [stretching out his hand to her]. Good - bye, Olga Petrovna. . . .

[Olga, too, holds out her hand uncertainly — tries to force herself to embrace him, but at once turns away with a shudder and runs off into her study. Kuzovkin remains where he zV.] Kuzovkin [clutching at his heart]. My God, my God, what is happening to me?

Voice of Yeletsky [speaking through the closed door]. You’ve locked the door! Olya! Olya!

Kuzovkin [coming to himself]. Who is it? . . He. . . . Yes. . . . What is it?

Voice of Yeletsky. Monsieur Tropatchov is here.
Je vous l’annonce... . Olya, answer....
Vassily Semyonitch, are you there?

Kuzovkin. Yes, sir.

Voice of Yeletsky. Where is Olga Petrovna?

Kuzovkin. She has gone, sir.

Voice of Yeletsky. Oh! Unlock the door.

[Kuzovkin unlocks it: Yeletsky comes in.]

Yeletsky [looking about him]. This is all very strange. [To Kuzovkin, coldly and sternly.] You are going away?

Kuzovkin. Yes, sir.

Yeletsky. Ah! Well, how did your conversation end, then?

Kuzovkin. Conversation . . . there was no conversation exactly, but I begged Olga Petrovna’s gracious forgiveness.

Yeletsky. And she?

Kuzovkin. She was pleased to say she would no longer be angry with me . . . and so now I am ready to go. . . .

Yeletsky. So Olga Petrovna did not alter my decision?

Kuzovkin. Oh, no. . . .

Yeletsky. H’m . . . I’m very sorry . . . but you see for yourself, Vassily Semyonitch, that . . .

Kuzovkin. Yes, indeed, Pavel Nikolaitch, I agree with you completely. You have treated me very kindly. I humbly thank you.

Yelets ky. I am glad to see that you feel you were to blame. And so, good - bye. ... If you want anything, please don’t hesitate. Though I have given the village elder instructions, you may at any time apply to me directly. . . .

Kuzovkin. I humbly thank you. [Bows.]

Yeletsky. Good - bye, Vassily Semyonitch. Oh, wait a little, though. . . . H’m Monsieur Tropatchov has called — he’ll be in here immediately. ... I should like you to repeat before him ... what you said to me this morning....

Kuzovkin. Yes, sir.

Yeletsky. Good. [To Tropatchov, who is coming in.] Mais venez done, venez done! [Tropatchov comes in, strutting affectedly as usual.] Well? Who won?

Tropatchov. I did, of course. Your billiard - table’s wonderfully fine. Only fancy, Mr. Ivanov refused to play with me! Said he had a headache. Mr. Ivanov — and a headache!! Eh? Et Madame? I hope she is quite well?

Yeletsky. Yes, quite — she’ll be here in a minute.

Tropatchov [with affable familiarity], I say, you know, your arrival is a perfect godsend for us poor rustics ... ha! ha! — une bonne fortune. . . . [Looks round and notices Kuzovkin.] Hullo... you here, too?

[Kuzovkin bows in silence.]

Yeletsky [loudly to Tropatchov, motioning with his chin towards Kuzovkin]. Yes . . . he’s terribly upset to - day — you understand — after yesterday’s performance — he’s been begging everybody’s pardon all day.

Tropatchov. Ah! wine disagrees with him, it seems. .. . What do you say, eh?

Kuzovkin [not raising his eyes]. I’m sorry, I must have been quite mad.

Tropatchov. Aha! So that’s it, master of Vyetrovo. . . . [To Yeletsky.] And the idea occurs to me. . . . After this there’s nothing so wonderful in some madman’s imagining he’s the Emperor of China, or I don’t know what. . . . Some, they say, fancy they’ve the sun and moon in their stomachs, and anything else you please. . . . Ha! Ha! So that’s it, that’s it, master of Vyetrovo.

Yeletsky [who would like to change the subject]. Yes.

What was I meaning to ask you, Flegont Alexandritch — when are we going shooting?

Tropatchov. When you like. . . . You see . . . Here, I’m not standing on ceremony with you. ... I was here yesterday and here I am again to - day. ... So you must do the same with me. . . . Wait a minute, I’ll ask Karpatchov. He knows better about it. He’ll tell us where to go. [Goes to door of the dining - room.] Karpatchov! come here, old man! [To Yeletsky.] He’s a first - rate shot — but I beat him at billiards. [Karpatchov comes in.] Here, Karpy, Pavel Nikolaitch would like to go shooting tomorrow — so where should we go, eh?

Karpatchov. Let’s go into Koloberdovo. There must be plenty of woodcock there by now.

Yeletsky. Is it far from here?

Karpatchov. By the main track about twenty - five miles, but by the by - roads it will be less.

Yeletsky. Very well, then. [Praskovya Ivanovna comes out of the study.] What is it?

Praskovya Ivanovna [with a bow to Yeletsky]. My lady asks you to go to her.

Yeletsky. What for?

Praskovya Ivanovna. I can’t say, sir.

Yeletsky. Say, I’ll come at once. [To Tropatchov.] You will excuse me? [Praskovya Ivanovna goes out.]

Tropatchov [shaking his head]. Oh, Pavel Nikolaitch, aren’t you ashamed to ask. . . . Please. . . .

Yeletsky. We won’t keep you waiting long. [Goes out. Kuzovkin, who has all the time been standing not far from the door into the dining - room, tries to seize this opportunity to go out.]

Tropatchov [to Kuzovkin]. Where are you off to, my friend? Stay and let’s have a little chat.

Kuzovkin. I have to .. .

Tropatchov. Oh, nonsense . . . you needn’t. You’re feeling ashamed, perhaps. . . . What rubbish! It’s a thing that happens to everybody. [Takes him by the arm and leads him to front of stage.] That is — wait a bit — I mean, drinking too much is a thing that happens to everybody . . . but I must own you gave us a surprise yesterday! You discovered a likeness, did you, eh? What a notion!

Kuzovkin. Simply through foolishness.

Tropatchov. To be sure, and yet it was queer. Why your daughter? . . . Queer! . . . Own up, though, you wouldn’t be sorry to have a daughter like that? [Pokes him in the ribs.~\ Come . . . tell us . . . eh? [To Karpatchov.] He hadn’t bad taste, eh? What do you say? [Karpatchov laughs.’]

Kuzovkin [tries to draw his arm away from Tropatchov]. Excuse me. . . .

Tropatchov. Why were you so cross with us yesterday, eh? Come, tell us. . . .

Kuzovkin [turning his head away, in a low voice], I am sorry.

Tropatchov. To be sure. Well, God will forgive you. Your daughter then? [Kuzovkin does not speak.] I say, dear friend, why don’t you come and see me? I’d make you welcome.

Kuzovkin. I humbly thank you.

Tropatchov. And you’d find it nice, ask him here. [Pointing to Karpatchov.] You could tell me again about Vyetrovo.

Kuzovkin [in a toneless voice]. Yes, sir.

Tropatchov. Why, I don’t believe you’ve greeted Karpatchov to - day? [To Karpatchov.] Karpy, you haven’t greeted Vassily Semyonitch as you did yesterday?

Karpatchov. No, I haven’t.

Tropatchov. That’s too bad.

Karpatchov. Oh, allow me, I will at once. . . . [Advances with outspread arms towards Kuzovkin. Kuzovkin backs. The study door opens quickly and Yeletsky comes in. He is pale and agitated.]

Yeletsky [with annoyance]. I believe I’ve asked you, Flegont Alexandritch, to leave Mr. Kuzovkin alone. . . .

[Tropatchov turns in surprise and looks at Yeletsky.