Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [217]
‘I was prevented from going abroad by – –’ he stopped short.
‘Olga?’ said Stolz, looking significantly at him.
Oblomov flushed.
‘What? Have you heard? Where is she now?’ he asked quickly, glancing at Stolz.
Stolz went on looking at him without replying, and he seemed to look deep into his soul.
‘I heard she’d gone abroad with her aunt,’ said Oblomov, ‘soon after – –’
‘– she had realized her mistake,’ Stolz finished the sentence for him.
‘Why, do you know?’ Oblomov said, overcome with confusion.
‘Everything,’ said Stolz, ‘even about the spray of lilac. And aren’t you ashamed, Ilya? Don’t you feel sorry? Aren’t you consumed with remorse and regret?’
‘Don’t speak of it – don’t remind me of it!’ Oblomov interrupted him hurriedly. ‘I fell dangerously ill when I saw what a gulf lay between her and me, when I realized that I was not worthy of her…. Oh, Andrey, if you love me, don’t torture me, don’t remind me of her. I pointed out her mistake to her long ago, but she refused to believe me – you see, I really am not very much to blame.’
‘I am not blaming you, Ilya,’ Stolz went on in a gentle and friendly tone of voice. ‘I have read your letter. I am to blame most of all, then she, and you least of all.’
‘How is she now?’ Oblomov asked timidly.
‘She? Why, she is overcome with grief, sheds floods of tears, and curses you.…’
Alarm, sympathy, horror, remorse appeared on Oblomov’s face with every word Stolz uttered.
‘What are you saying, Andrey?’ he said, getting up from his seat. ‘Let us go to her at once, for God’s sake! I’ll go down on my knees and beg her to forgive me….’
‘Sit still!’ Stolz interrupted, laughing. ‘She’s in high spirits. Why, I believe she’s really happy! She asked me to give you her regards. She wanted to write to you, but I advised her not to. I told her it might upset you.’
‘Well, thank God,’ Oblomov said, almost with tears. ‘I’m so glad, Andrey! Let me embrace you and let’s drink her health.’
They each drank a glass of champagne.
‘But where is she now?’
‘In Switzerland. In the autumn she and her aunt will go to her estate. That’s why I am here now: I must get it all settled in the courts. The baron did not finish the business: he took it into his head to propose to Olga.’
‘Did he? So it’s true, is it?’ said Oblomov. ‘Well, and what did she do?’
‘She refused him, naturally. He was hurt and left, and now I have to finish the business! It will be all settled next week. Well, and what about you? Why have you buried yourself in this God-forsaken hole?’
‘It’s peaceful here, Andrey. So quiet, no one interferes with you – –’
‘In what?’
‘In my work.…’
‘Why, this is Oblomovka all over again, only much worse,’ said Stolz, looking round. ‘Let’s go to the country, Ilya.’
‘To the country – well, why not? They’ll be soon beginning to build my new house there. Only don’t rush me, Andrey. Let me think it over first.’
‘Again think it over! I know the way you think things over: just as you thought it over about going abroad two years ago. Let’s go next week.’
‘Next week? Why so suddenly?’ Oblomov defended himself. ‘You’re ready for the journey, but I have to make ready. All my things are here. I can’t leave them all, can I? I have nothing for the journey.’
‘But you want nothing. What do you want? Tell me!’
Oblomov made no answer.
‘I’m not feeling too well, Andrey,’ he said. ‘I am short of breath, I’ve been having styes again, first on one eye and then on the other, and my legs, too, are beginning to swell. And sometimes when I am fast asleep at night someone seems to strike me suddenly on the head or across the back, so that I jump up….’
‘Listen, Ilya, I tell you seriously, you must change your way of life if you don’t want to get dropsy or have a stroke. You can have no more hopes for a better future: if an angel like Olga could not carry you on her wings out of the bog in which you are stuck, I can do nothing. But to choose a small field of activity, put your small estate in order, settle the affairs