Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [193]
‘There’s nothing wrong with my face, sir,’ Zakhar said, looking lazily out of the window. ‘It’s the right sort of face for the likes of me.’
‘Goodness me,’ Oblomov thought, mopping his brow, ‘she’s sure to be here any moment.’
‘Please go for a walk, Zakhar, I beg you. Here, take twenty copecks and go and have a drink with one of your pals.’
‘I’d rather sit down on the front steps, sir. I can’t go for a walk in the frost, can I? I could sit down at the gate, of course. I don’t mind doing that.’
‘No,’ Oblomov said quickly, ‘you must go farther than the gate. Go to another street – to the left – over there, towards the park – across the river.’
‘What’s up?’ Zakhar thought. ‘Driving me out for a walk! It’s never happened before!’
‘I’d rather wait till Sunday, sir!’
‘Are you going or not?’ Oblomov said through clenched teeth, advancing upon Zakhar.
Zakhar disappeared and Oblomov called Anisya.
‘Go to the market,’ he said to her, ‘and buy something for dinner.’
‘But, sir, everything has been bought for dinner, and it’ll soon be ready,’ the nose began to expostulate.
‘Shut up and listen!’ Oblomov shouted so peremptorily that Anisya was frightened.
‘Buy – well, some asparagus,’ he said, trying to think of something to send her for.
‘But, sir, asparagus is out of season – you will never find any there – –’
‘Be off!’ he shouted, and she ran off. ‘Run there as fast as you can,’ he shouted after her, ‘and don’t look round, and when coming back walk as slowly as possible and don’t show your nose here for two hours.’
‘That’s a funny business and no mistake,’ Zakhar said to Anisya, running across her at the gate. ‘He has sent me for a walk and given me twenty copecks. Where does he think I can go walking?’
‘He’s your master and he has a right to tell you what to do,’ the sharp-witted Anisya observed. ‘You’d better go to Artemy, the count’s coachman, and treat him to tea: he is always treating you, and I’ll run down to the market.’
‘What a funny idea, Artemy!’ Zakhar said to the coachman. ‘Master has told me to go for a walk and given me money for a drink….’
‘Are you sure he’s not intending to get drunk himself?’ Artemy remarked wittily. ‘He gave you something so that you shouldn’t envy him. Come on!’
He winked at Zakhar and motioned with his head to a certain street.
‘Come on,’ Zakhar repeated, motioning towards the same street. ‘Dear, dear,’ he wheezed to himself with a grin, ‘fancy sending me out for a walk!’
They went away, but Anisya ran to the first crossroads, squatted down in a ditch behind a fence, and waited to see what happened.
Oblomov listened intently and waited. Someone took hold of the iron ring of the gate and at the same moment the dog began barking desperately and jumping on the chain.
‘Damn the dog!’ Oblomov muttered, grinding his teeth.
He snatched up his cap and rushed out to the front gate, opened it, and brought Olga to the front steps almost in his arms. She was alone. Katya was waiting for her in the carriage not far from the gate.
‘Are you well? You’re not in bed? What is the matter with you?’ she asked quickly, without taking off her coat or hat and looking him up and down when she came into his study.
‘I’m better now, my throat is – er – almost well,’ he said, touching his throat and coughing a little.
‘Why didn’t you come yesterday?’ she asked, casting so inquisitorial a glance at him that he could not utter a word.
‘How could you do a thing like this, Olga?’ he said in horror. ‘Do you know what you are doing?’
‘We’ll discuss that later!’ she interrupted him impatiently. ‘I ask you, what’s the meaning of your keeping away from me?’
He made no answer.
‘You haven’t got a stye, have you?’ she asked.
He made no answer.
‘You haven’t been ill,’ she said, knitting her brows. ‘There was nothing wrong with your throat.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ replied Oblomov in the voice of a schoolboy.
‘You’ve deceived me!’ she cried, looking at him in astonishment. ‘Why?’
‘I can explain everything, Olga.’ He tried