Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [184]
‘That’s my worry,’ she said impatiently. ‘Would you have liked it better if I had come with my aunt?’
‘Yes, I would, Olga.’
‘Had I known I’d have asked her,’ Olga interrupted in an injured voice, letting go his hand. ‘I thought there was no greater happiness for you than being with me.’
‘And so there isn’t and there cannot be!’ Oblomov replied. ‘But how could you come alone – –’
‘Let us not waste our time discussing it,’ she said light-heartedly. ‘Let’s talk of something else. Listen. Oh, I was going to tell you something…. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten….’
‘Not how you came here alone?’ he said, looking round anxiously.
‘Oh no! Aren’t you tired of repeating the same thing over and over again? What was I going to say? Oh, never mind. I’m sure to remember it later. Oh, how lovely it is here! The leaves have all fallen, feuilles d’automne – remember Victor Hugo? Look at the sunshine there – there’s the Neva…. Come, let’s go to the Neva and take a boat….’
‘Good Lord, what are you talking about? It’s so cold, and I’ve only a quilted coat on.’
‘I, too, have a quilted dress. What does it matter? Come along, let’s go.’
She ran and dragged him after her. He resisted and grumbled. However, he had to get into a boat and go for a row on the river.
‘How did you get here by yourself alone?’ Oblomov kept asking anxiously.
‘Shall I tell you?’ she teased him roguishly when they got to the middle of the river. ‘I can now: you won’t run away from here, as you would have done there….’
‘Why?’ he asked fearfully.
‘Are you coming to-morrow?’ she asked instead of an answer.
‘Oh dear,’ thought Oblomov, ‘she seems to have read in my thoughts that I did not mean to come.’
‘Yes,’ he said aloud.
‘In the morning, for the whole day.’
He hesitated.
‘Then I won’t tell you,’ she said.
‘Yes, I’ll come for the day.’
‘Well, you see,’ she began gravely, ‘I asked you to come here to-day to tell you – –’
‘What?’ he asked in a panic.
‘To come – to us to-morrow.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ he interrupted impatiently. ‘But how did you get here?’
‘Here?’ she repeated absent-mindedly. ‘How did I get here? Why, I just came. Wait – but why talk about it at all?’
She put her hand into the river and took a handful of water and threw it in his face. He screwed up his eyes and gave a start. She laughed.
‘How cold the water is – my hand feels frozen! Goodness, how lovely it is here! Oh, I am so happy!’ she went on, looking about her. ‘Let’s come again to-morrow, but straight from home.’
‘Haven’t you come straight from home now? Where have you come from then?’ he asked hastily.
‘From a shop,’ she replied.
‘What shop?’
‘What shop? I told you in the garden – –’
‘You didn’t,’ he cried impatiently.
‘Didn’t I? How strange! I’ve forgotten! I left home with a footman to go to the jeweller’s – –’
‘Well?’
‘Well, that’s all. What church is this?’ she suddenly asked the boatman, pointing at a church in the far distance.
‘Which one? That over there?’ the boatman asked.
‘The Smolny,’ Oblomov said impatiently. ‘Well, so you went to the shop and what did you do there?’
‘Oh, there were lovely things there – I saw such a beautiful bracelet!’
‘I’m not interested in bracelets,’ Oblomov interrupted. ‘What happened then?’
‘That’s all,’ she added absent-mindedly, absorbed in looking about her.
‘Where’s the footman?’ Oblomov pestered her.
‘Gone home,’ she replied curtly, examining a building on the opposite bank.
‘And what about you?’
‘Oh, how lovely it is over there! Couldn’t we go there?’ she asked, pointing with her parasol to the opposite bank. ‘You live there, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘In which street? Show me!’
‘But what about the footman?’ Oblomov asked.
‘Oh, nothing,’ she replied in a casual tone of voice. ‘I sent him for my bracelet. He went home and I came here.’
‘But how could you do that?’ said Oblomov, staring at her.
He looked alarmed, and she, too, made an alarmed face.
‘Talk seriously, Olga. Stop joking?