Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [191]
Olga wanted to go there simply because Oblomov had pointed out the church to her from the river, and she wished to pray there – for him, that he should be well, that he should love her, that he should be happy with her, that – this uncertainty and indecision should end as soon as possible. Poor Olga!
Sunday came. Olga somehow contrived that the dinner should be to Oblomov’s liking. She put on her white dress, concealed under the lace the bracelet he had given her, did her hair in the way he liked; she had arranged for the piano to be tuned the day before, and in the morning tried singing Casta diva. Her voice had not sounded so well since her return from the country. Then she waited.
The baron, who found her waiting for Oblomov, said that she looked again as pretty as in summer, but that she was a little thinner.
‘The lack of country air and the slightly irregular mode of life have perceptibly affected you,’ he said. ‘What you need, my dear Olga, is the country and the air of the fields.’
He kissed her hand a few times, his dyed moustache leaving a little stain on her fingers.
‘Yes, the country,’ she replied wistfully, not to him but speaking into space to someone else.
‘A propos of the country,’ he added. ‘Your lawsuit will be finished next month, and in April you will be able to leave for your estate. It is not big, but the situation is wonderful! You will be pleased. What a house! What a garden! There’s a pavilion on a hill – you will love it! The view of the river – you don’t remember it, do you? You were only five when your father left the estate and took you away.’
‘Oh, how glad I shall be!’ she said, and sank into thought.
‘Now it’s settled,’ she decided, ‘we’ll go there, but he won’t find out about it till – –’
‘Next month, baron?’ she asked quickly. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m as sure of that as I am of the fact that you are beautiful, and especially to-day,’ he said, and went to her aunt.
Olga did not stir from her place, dreaming of the happiness that was so near, but she decided not to tell Oblomov her news and her plans for the future. She intended to watch to the end the change love wrought in Oblomov’s lazy soul, to see how the great weight would lift from him, how he would not be able finally to resist the prospect of happiness, how he would receive a favourable reply from the country and, radiant with joy, would rush to her and put it at her feet, and how both of them would run to her aunt, and then – – Then she would suddenly tell him that she too had an estate, a garden, a pavilion, a view of the river and a house that was ready to live in, that they must go there first and then to Oblomovka. ‘No,’ she thought, ‘I don’t want a favourable reply, for he will put on airs and won’t even feel glad that I have an estate of my own, a house, a garden. No, I’d rather he came looking upset by a disagreeable letter with the news that his estate was in a bad way and that he had to go there himself. He’d rush headlong off to Oblomovka, hastily make all the necessary arrangements, forget to see to a great many things, be unable to do many others, do everything just anyhow, rush back, and suddenly discover that it had not been necessary for him to go at all – that she had a house, a garden, and a pavilion with a view, that they had a place where they could live without bothering about his Oblomovka…. No, no, she was not going to tell him; she would hold out to the end. Let him go to his estate, let him bestir himself, let him come to life – for her alone, in the name of their future happiness. Oh – no! Why should she send him to his estate? Why should they part? No – when, all dressed for the journey, he – pale and woebegone – came to say good-bye to her, she would tell him suddenly that there was no need for him to go till summer, that they would go together then….
So she dreamed on, and she ran to the baron and skilfully suggested to him that he should not reveal the news to anyone, absolutely not to anyone. By anyone she