A Hero of Our Time [63]
glance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to crush conspiracies, to pretend to be deceived and suddenly with one blow to over- throw the whole immense and laboriously con- structed edifice of cunning and design -- that is what I call life.
During supper Grushnitski kept whispering and exchanging winks with the captain of dragoons.
CHAPTER XI
14th June.
VERA and her husband left this morning for Kislovodsk. I met their carriage as I was walking to Princess Ligovski's. Vera nodded to me: reproach was in her glance.
Who is to blame, then? Why will she not give me an opportunity of seeing her alone? Love is like fire -- if not fed it dies out. Perchance, jealousy will accomplish what my entreaties have failed to do.
I stayed a whole hour at Princess Ligovski's. Mary has not been out, she is ill. In the evening she was not on the boulevard. The newly formed gang, armed with lorgnettes, has in very fact assumed a menacing aspect. I am glad that Princess Mary is ill; they might be guilty of some impertinence towards her. Grushnitski goes about with dishevelled locks, and wears an appearance of despair: he is evidently afflicted, as a matter of fact; his vanity especially has been injured. But, you see, there are some people in whom even despair is divert- ing! . . .
On my way home I noticed that something was lacking. I have not seen her! She is ill! Surely I have not fallen in love with her in real earnest? . . . What nonsense!
CHAPTER XII
15th June.
AT eleven o'clock in the morning -- the hour at which Princess Ligovski is usually perspiring in the Ermolov baths -- I walked past her house. Princess Mary was sitting pensively at the window; on seeing me she sprang up.
I entered the ante-room, there was nobody there, and, availing myself of the freedom afforded by the local customs, I made my way, unan- nounced, into the drawing-room.
Princess Mary's charming countenance was shrouded with a dull pallor. She was standing by the pianoforte, leaning one hand on the back of an arm-chair; her hand was very faintly trembling. I went up to her softly and said:
"You are angry with me?" . . .
She lifted a deep, languid glance upon me and shook her head. Her lips were about to utter something, but failed; her eyes filled with tears; she sank into the arm-chair and buried her face in her hands.
"What is the matter with you?" I said, taking her hand.
"You do not respect me! . . . Oh, leave me!" . . .
I took a few steps. . . She drew herself up in the chair, her eyes sparkled.
I stopped still, took hold of the handle of the door, and said:
"Forgive me, Princess. I have acted like a madman. . . It will not happen another time; I shall see to that. . . But how can you know what has been taking place hitherto within my soul? That you will never learn, and so much the better for you. Farewell."
As I was going out, I seemed to hear her weeping.
I wandered on foot about the environs of Mount Mashuk till evening, fatigued myself terribly and, on arriving home, flung myself on my bed, utterly exhausted.
Werner came to see me.
"Is it true," he asked, "that you are going to marry Princess Mary?"
"What?"
"The whole town is saying so. All my patients are occupied with that important piece of news; but you know what these patients are: they know everything."
"This is one of Grushnitski's tricks," I said to myself.
"To prove the falsity of these rumours, doctor, I may mention, as a secret, that I am moving to Kislovodsk to-morrow" . . .
"And Princess Mary, too?"
"No, she remains here another week" . . .
"So you are not going to get married?" . . .
"Doctor, doctor! Look at me! Am I in the least like a bridegroom, or any such thing?"
"I am not saying so. . . But you know there are occasions . . ." he added, with a crafty smile -- "in which an honourable man is obliged to marry, and there are mothers who, to say the least, do not prevent such occasions. . . And so, as a friend, I should advise you to be more cautious.
During supper Grushnitski kept whispering and exchanging winks with the captain of dragoons.
CHAPTER XI
14th June.
VERA and her husband left this morning for Kislovodsk. I met their carriage as I was walking to Princess Ligovski's. Vera nodded to me: reproach was in her glance.
Who is to blame, then? Why will she not give me an opportunity of seeing her alone? Love is like fire -- if not fed it dies out. Perchance, jealousy will accomplish what my entreaties have failed to do.
I stayed a whole hour at Princess Ligovski's. Mary has not been out, she is ill. In the evening she was not on the boulevard. The newly formed gang, armed with lorgnettes, has in very fact assumed a menacing aspect. I am glad that Princess Mary is ill; they might be guilty of some impertinence towards her. Grushnitski goes about with dishevelled locks, and wears an appearance of despair: he is evidently afflicted, as a matter of fact; his vanity especially has been injured. But, you see, there are some people in whom even despair is divert- ing! . . .
On my way home I noticed that something was lacking. I have not seen her! She is ill! Surely I have not fallen in love with her in real earnest? . . . What nonsense!
CHAPTER XII
15th June.
AT eleven o'clock in the morning -- the hour at which Princess Ligovski is usually perspiring in the Ermolov baths -- I walked past her house. Princess Mary was sitting pensively at the window; on seeing me she sprang up.
I entered the ante-room, there was nobody there, and, availing myself of the freedom afforded by the local customs, I made my way, unan- nounced, into the drawing-room.
Princess Mary's charming countenance was shrouded with a dull pallor. She was standing by the pianoforte, leaning one hand on the back of an arm-chair; her hand was very faintly trembling. I went up to her softly and said:
"You are angry with me?" . . .
She lifted a deep, languid glance upon me and shook her head. Her lips were about to utter something, but failed; her eyes filled with tears; she sank into the arm-chair and buried her face in her hands.
"What is the matter with you?" I said, taking her hand.
"You do not respect me! . . . Oh, leave me!" . . .
I took a few steps. . . She drew herself up in the chair, her eyes sparkled.
I stopped still, took hold of the handle of the door, and said:
"Forgive me, Princess. I have acted like a madman. . . It will not happen another time; I shall see to that. . . But how can you know what has been taking place hitherto within my soul? That you will never learn, and so much the better for you. Farewell."
As I was going out, I seemed to hear her weeping.
I wandered on foot about the environs of Mount Mashuk till evening, fatigued myself terribly and, on arriving home, flung myself on my bed, utterly exhausted.
Werner came to see me.
"Is it true," he asked, "that you are going to marry Princess Mary?"
"What?"
"The whole town is saying so. All my patients are occupied with that important piece of news; but you know what these patients are: they know everything."
"This is one of Grushnitski's tricks," I said to myself.
"To prove the falsity of these rumours, doctor, I may mention, as a secret, that I am moving to Kislovodsk to-morrow" . . .
"And Princess Mary, too?"
"No, she remains here another week" . . .
"So you are not going to get married?" . . .
"Doctor, doctor! Look at me! Am I in the least like a bridegroom, or any such thing?"
"I am not saying so. . . But you know there are occasions . . ." he added, with a crafty smile -- "in which an honourable man is obliged to marry, and there are mothers who, to say the least, do not prevent such occasions. . . And so, as a friend, I should advise you to be more cautious.