Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [149]
‘It has withered!’ he replied sadly, giving her the letter.
She drew close to him once more and bent down her head; her eyes were closed. She was almost trembling. He gave her the letter; she did not raise her head or move away.
‘You frightened me,’ she added softly.
‘I’m sorry, Olga,’ he murmured.
She said nothing.
‘This stern “never!”…’ he said sadly and sighed.
‘It will wither!’ she said in a barely audible whisper, and blushed.
She cast a shy, tender glance at him, took both his hands, pressed them warmly in hers, and then put them to her heart.
‘Do you hear how fast it is beating?’ she said. ‘You frightened me! Let me go!’
And without looking at him, she turned round and ran along the path, lifting the hem of her skirt lightly.
‘Where are you off to?’ he cried. ‘I’m tired, I can’t keep up with you.’
‘Leave me,’ she repeated with burning cheeks. ‘I’m running to sing, sing, sing! There’s such a tightness in my chest that it almost hurts me!’
He remained standing and gazed after her a long time, as if she were an angel that was flying away.
‘Will the moment wither too?’ he thought almost sadly, and he did not seem to know whether he was walking or standing.
‘The lilacs are over,’ he thought again. ‘Yesterday is over, and the night with its phantoms and its stifling horrors is over too.… Yes, and this moment will also be gone like the lilac. But while last night was drawing to a close, this morning was beginning to dawn.’
‘What is it, then?’ he said aloud in a daze. ‘And love too – love? And I had thought that like a hot noonday sun it would hang over lovers and that nothing would stir or breathe in its atmosphere; but there is no rest in love, either, and it moves on and on like all life, Stolz says. And the Joshua has not yet been born who could tell it: “Stand still and do not move!” What will happen to-morrow?’ he asked himself anxiously and wistfully, and walked home slowly.
Passing under Olga’s windows he heard the strains of Schubert in which her tightened chest found relief and seemed to be sobbing with happiness.
Oh, how wonderful life was!
11
ATHOME Oblomov found another letter from Stolz, which began and ended with the words: ‘Now or never!’ It was full of reproaches for his immobility and included an invitation to come to Switzerland, where Stolz himself was going, and then to Italy. If Oblomov could not manage it, Stolz suggested that he should go to the country to see to his affairs, rouse his peasants to work, find out the exact amount of his income, and give the necessary orders for the building of the new house. ‘Remember our agreement: now or never,’ he concluded. ‘Now, now, now!’ Oblomov repeated. ‘Andrey does not know what a wonderful thing has happened in my life. What more does he want from me? Could I possibly be as busy as I am now? Let him try it! You read about the French and the English being always busy working, just as if they had nothing but business in mind. They travel all over Europe, and even in Asia and Africa, and not on business, either: some draw or paint, some excavate antiquities, some shoot lions or catch snakes. If they don’t do that, they sit at home in honourable idleness, have lunches and dinners with friends and ladies – that is what all their business amounts to! Why should I be expected to work hard? All Andrey thinks of is work and work, like a horse! Whatever for? I have plenty to eat and I’m decently dressed. Still, Olga did ask me again if I meant to go to Oblomovka.…’
He threw himself into work. He wrote, made plans, even paid a visit to an architect. Soon the plan of the house and the garden lay on his little table. It was a large, roomy house with two balconies. ‘Here is my room, here is Olga’s, there’s the bedroom, the nursery…’ he thought with a smile. ‘But, dear me, the peasants, the peasants…’ and the smile disappeared and he frowned. ‘My neighbour writes to me, goes into all sorts of details, talks of land to be put under the plough, the yield of grain per acre.… What a bore! And he proposes that we should