The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov

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СКАЧАТЬ I had been in the wrong?

      Besides, as an honest man I ought to break off all connection with Olga. All further intercourse with her would only lead to her ruin. She had made a mistake in marrying Urbenin; in falling in love with me she had made another mistake. If she had a secret lover while living with her old husband, would she not be like a depraved doll? To say nothing about how abominable, in principle, such a life is, it was necessary also to think of the consequences.

      What a coward I am! I was afraid of the consequences, of the present, of the past… An ordinary man will laugh at my reasoning. He would not have paced from corner to corner, he would not have seized his head in both hands, he would not have made all sorts of plans, but he would have left all to life which grinds into flour even millstones. Life would have digested everything without asking for his aid or permission… But I am fearful almost to cowardice. Pacing from corner to corner, I suffered from compassion for Olga, and at the same time I feared she would understand the proposal I had made her in a moment of passion, and would appear in my house to stay as I had promised her, for ever. What would have happened if she had listened to me and had come home with me? How long would that/or ever have lasted, and what would life with me have given poor Olga? I would not have given her family life and would consequently not have given her happiness. No, I ought not go to Olga!

      At the same time my soul was drawn frantically towards her. I was as melancholy as a boy, in love for the first time, who is refused a rendezvous. Tempted by what had occurred in the grotto, I yearned for another meeting, and the alluring vision of Olga, who, as I well knew, was also expecting me, and was pining away from longing, never left my mind for a moment.

      The Count sent me letter after letter, each one more rueful and humbler than the last… He implored me to ‘forget everything!’ and come to him; he apologized for Pshekhotsky, he begged me to forgive that ‘kind, simple, but somewhat shallow man’, he was surprised that owing to trifles I had decided to break off old and friendly connections. In one of his last letters he promised to come to me and, if I wished it, to bring Pshekhotsky with him, who would ask my pardon, ‘although he did not feel that he was at all at fault’. I read the letters and in answer begged each messenger to leave me in peace. I knew well how to be capricious!

      At the very height of my nervous agitation, when I, standing at the window, was deciding to go away somewhere - anywhere except to the Count’s estate - when I was tormenting myself with arguments, self-reproaches, and visions of love that awaited me with Olga, my door opened quietly, I heard light footsteps behind me, and soon my neck was encircled by two pretty little arms.

      ‘Olga, is that you?’ I asked and looked round.

      I recognized her by her hot breath, by the manner in which she hung on my neck, and even by her scent. Pressing her head to my cheek, she appeared to me extraordinarily happy… From happiness she could not say a word… I pressed her to my breast and - where had the melancholy, and all the questions with which I had been tormenting myself during the whole of three days, disappeared? I laughed and jumped about with joy like the veriest schoolboy.

      Olga was in a blue silk dress, which suited her pale face and splendid flaxen hair very well. The dress was in the latest fashion and must have been very expensive. It probably cost Urbenin a quarter of his yearly salary.

      ‘How lovely you are today!’ I said, lifting Olga up in my arms and kissing her neck. ‘How are you? Quite well?’

      ‘Why, you haven’t much of a place here!’ she said, casting her eyes round my study. ‘You’re a rich man, you receive a high salary, and yet… you live quite poorly.’

      ‘Not everybody can live as luxuriously as the Count, my darling,’ I said. ‘But let us leave my wealth in peace. What good genius has brought you into my den?’

      ‘Stop, Serezha! You’ll crumple my frock… Put me down… I’ve only come to you for a moment, darling! I told everybody at home I was going to Akat’ikha, the Count’s washerwoman, who lives here only three doors off. Let me go, darling! It’s awkward. Why haven’t you been to see me for so long?’

      I answered something, placed her on a chair opposite me, and began to contemplate her beauty. For a minute we looked at each other in silence.

      ‘You are very pretty, Olia!’ I sighed, it’s a pity and a shame that you’re so pretty!’

      ‘Why is it a pity?’

      ‘The devil only knows who’s got you.’

      ‘But what more do you want? Am I not yours? Here I am… Listen, Serezha! Will you tell me the truth if I ask you?’

      ‘Of course, only the truth.’

      ‘Would you have married me if I had not married Pëtr Egorych?’

      ‘Probably not,’ I wanted to say, but why should I probe the painful wound in poor Olia’s heart that was already so troubled?

      ‘Certainly,’ I said in the tone of a man speaking the truth.

      Olia sighed and cast her eyes down.

      ‘What a mistake I’ve made! What a mistake! And what’s worst of all it can’t be rectified! I suppose I can’t get divorced from him?’

      ‘You can’t.’

      I can’t understand why I was in such a hurry! We girls are so silly and giddy… There’s nobody to whip us! However, one can’t undo the past, and to reason about it is useless… Neither reasoning nor tears are of any good. Serezha, I cried all last night! He was there… lying next to me, and I was thinking of you… I couldn’t sleep… I wanted to run away in the night, even into the wood to father… It is better to live with a mad father than with this - what’s his name.’

      ‘Reasoning won’t help… Olia, you ought to have reasoned when you drove home with me from Tenevo, and were so happy at getting married to a rich man… It’s too late to practise eloquence now…’

      ‘Too late… Then let it be so!’ Olga said with a decisive wave of the hand, it will be possible to live, if it is no worse… Goodbye, I must be off…’

      ‘No, not goodbye…’

      I drew Olia towards me and covered her face with kisses, as if I were trying to reward myself for the lost three days. She pressed close against me like a lamb sheltering from the cold and warmed my face with her hot breath… There was stillness in the room…

      ‘The husband killed his wife!’ bawled my parrot.

      Olia shivered, released herself from my embraces, and looked inquiringly at me.

      ‘It’s only the parrot, my soul,’ I said. ‘Calm yourself.’

      ‘The husband killed his wife!’ Ivan Dem’yanych repeated again.

      Olia rose, put on her hat in silence, and gave me her hand. Dread was written on her face.

      ‘What if Urbenin gets to know?’ she asked, looking at me with wide-open eyes. ‘He is capable of killing me.’

      ‘What nonsense!’ I said, laughing. ‘What sort of a fellow would I be if I allowed him to kill you? He’s hardly capable of anything as extravagant as murder… Are you going? Well, then, goodbye, my child! I will wait… Tomorrow, in the wood, near the house where you lived… СКАЧАТЬ