The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov
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Название: The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov
Автор: Anton Chekhov
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788027217984
isbn:
‘It’s true he’s a little old,’ Olenka sighed, ‘but he loves me… His love is trustworthy.’
‘It’s not a matter of trustworthy love, but of happiness…’
‘I shall be happy with him… He has means, thank God, and he’s no pauper, no beggar, but a nobleman. Of course, I’m not in love with him, but are only those who marry for love happy? Oh, I know those marriages for love!’
‘My child, when have you had time to stuff your brain with this terrible worldly wisdom?’ I asked. ‘Admitted that you are joking with me, but where have you learned to joke in such a vulgar, adult way?… Where? When?’
Olenka looked at me with astonishment and shrugged her shoulders.
‘I don’t understand what you are saying,’ she said. ‘You don’t like to see a young girl marry an old man? Is that so?’
Olenka suddenly blushed all over, her chin moved nervously, and without waiting for my answer she rattled on rapidly.
‘This does not please you? Then perhaps you’d like to try living in the wood — with nothing to amuse you but a few sparrow-hawks and a mad father — and waiting until a young suitor comes along! You liked it the other evening, but if you saw it in winter, when one only wishes… that death might come—’
‘Oh, all this is absurd, Olenka, it is childish, silly! If you are not joking… Truly I don’t know what to say! You had better be silent and not offend the air with your tongue. I, in your place, would have hanged myself on the nearest tree, and you buy linen… and smile. Ach!’
‘In any case, with his means he will be able to have father cured,’ she whispered.
‘How much do you need for your father’s cure?’ I cried. ‘Take it from me — a hundred? Two hundred?… A thousand? Olenka, it’s not your father’s cure that you want!’
The news Olenka had communicated to me had excited me so much that I had not even noticed that the wagonette had driven past my village, or how it had turned into the Count’s yard and stopped at the bailiff’s porch. When I saw the children run out, and the smile on Urbenin’s face, who also had rushed out to help Olenka down, I jumped out of the wagonette and ran into the Count’s house without even taking leave. Here further news awaited me.
CHAPTER XII
How opportune! How opportune!’ the Count cried as he greeted me and scratched my cheek with his long, pointed moustache. ‘You could not have chosen a happier time! We have only just sat down to luncheon… Of course, you are acquainted… You have doubtless often come across each other in your legal department… Ha, ha!’
With both hands the Count pointed to two men who, seated in soft armchairs, were partaking of cold tongue. In one I had the vexation of recognizing the Justice of the Peace, Kalinin; the other, a little grey-haired man with a large moonlike bald pate, was my good friend, Babaev, a rich landowner who occupied the post of perpetual member of our district council. Having exchanged bows, I looked with astonishment at Kalinin. I knew how much he disliked the Count and what reports he had set in circulation in the district about the man at whose table he was now eating tongue and green peas with such appetite and drinking ten-year-old liqueur. How could a respectable man explain such a visit? The Justice of the Peace caught my glance and evidently understood it.
‘I have devoted this day to visits,’ he said to me. ‘I am driving round the whole district… And, as you see, I have also called upon his Excellency…’
Ilya brought a fourth cover. I sat down, drank a glass of vodka, and began to lunch.
‘It’s wrong, your Excellency, very wrong!’ Kalinin said, continuing the conversation my entrance had interrupted. ‘It’s no sin for us little people, but you are an illustrious man, a rich man, a brilliant man… It’s a sin for you to fail.’
‘That’s quite true; it’s a sin,’ Babaev acquiesced.
‘What’s this all about?’ I asked.
‘Nikolai Ignat’ich has given me a good idea!’ the Count said, nodding to the justice of the peace. ‘He came to me… We sat down to lunch, and I began complaining of being bored…’
‘And he complained to me of being bored,’ Kalinin interrupted the Count. ‘Boredom, melancholy… this and that… In a word, disillusionment. A sort of Onegin. “Your Excellency,” I said, “you’re yourself to blame…”
“How so?”
“Quite simply… In order not to be bored,” I said, “accept some office… occupy yourself with the management of your estate… Farming is excellent, wonderful…” He tells me he intends to occupy himself with farming, but still he is bored… What fails him is, so to speak, the entertaining, the stimulating element. There is not the — how am I to express myself? - er - strong sensations…’
‘Well, and what idea did you give him?’
‘I really suggested no idea, I only reproached his Excellency. “How is it your Excellency,” I said, “that you, a young, cultivated, brilliant man, can live in such seclusion? Is it not a sin?” I asked. “You go nowhere, you receive nobody, you are seen nowhere… You live like an old man, or a hermit… What would it cost you to arrange parties… so to speak, at homes?”’
‘Why should he have at homes?’ I asked.
‘How can you ask? First, if his Excellency gave evening parties, he would become acquainted with society - study it, so to speak… Secondly, society would have the honour of becoming more closely acquainted with one of the richest of our landowners… There would be, so to speak, a mutual exchange of thoughts, conversation, gaiety… And when one comes to think of it, how many cultivated young ladies and men we have among us! What musical evenings, dances, picnics could be arranged! Only think! The reception rooms are huge, there are pavilions in the gardens, and so on, and so on. Nobody in the district could have dreamed of the private theatricals or the concerts that could be got up… Yes, by God! Only imagine them! Now all this is lost, as if we’re buried alive; but then… one must just know how to do things! If I had his Excellency’s means, I would show them how to live! And he says: “Bored”! By God! it’s laughable to listen to it… It makes one feel ashamed…’
And Kalinin began to blink his eyes, wishing to appear to be really ashamed…
‘All this is quite just,’ the Count said, rising from his seat and thrusting his hands into his pockets. ‘I could give excellent evening parties… Concerts, private theatricals… all this could be arranged charmingly. Besides, these parties would not only entertain society, they would have an educational influence too! Don’t you think so?’
‘Well, yes, ‘ I acquiesced. ‘As soon as our young ladies see your moustachioed physiognomy they will at once be penetrated by the spirit of civilization…’
‘Serezha, СКАЧАТЬ