Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [241]
Vanya sniffed, but did not wipe his nose.
‘Wait till I get the money from the country – I’ll have two coats made for him,’ Oblomov interjected. ‘A blue tunic and a school uniform next year: he’ll be going to a secondary school next year.’
‘Oh,’ said Agafya Matveyevna, ‘his old one will do very well yet. I shall need the money for housekeeping. We’ll have to lay in a supply of salt beef and I’ll make some jam for you. I must go and see if Anisya has brought the sour cream.’
She got up.
‘What are we having for dinner to-day?’ asked Oblomov.
‘Fish soup, roast mutton, and curd dumplings.’
Oblomov said nothing.
Suddenly a carriage drew up, there was a knock at the gate followed by the barking and jumping of the dog. Oblomov went back to his room thinking someone had come to see the landlady: the butcher, the greengrocer, or some such person. Such a visit was usually accompanied by requests for money, a refusal by the landlady, threats by the shopkeepers, followed by entreaties and abuse, slamming of doors, banging of gates, and the desperate barking and jumping of the dog – an unpleasant scene altogether. But this time a carriage had driven up – what could it mean? Butchers and greengrocers did not drive about in carriages.
Suddenly the landlady rushed into his room in a panic.
‘A visitor for you!’ she said.
‘Who? Tarantyev or Alexeyev?’
‘No, no, the gentleman who came to dinner on your name-day.’
‘Stolz?’ Oblomov cried in alarm, looking round for a way of escape. ‘What will he say when he sees…. Tell him I’m not at home!’ he added hurriedly, retreating to the landlady’s room.
Anisya was just about to open the door for the visitor. Agafya Matveyevna had time to give her Oblomov’s order. Stolz believed her, though he could not help expressing his surprise at Oblomov’s not being in.
‘Very well, tell your master that I’ll be here in two hours and have dinner with him,’ he said, and went to the public park in the vicinity.
‘He’ll come to dinner!’ Anisya cried in alarm.
‘He’ll come to dinner!’ Agafya Matveyevna repeated to Oblomov in a panic.
‘You’ll have to prepare another dinner,’ Oblomov decided after a pause.
She gave him a look full of terror. All she had left was fifty copecks, and it was still ten days to the first of the month, when her brother gave her the money. She could get no more credit.
‘We shan’t have time,’ she observed timidly. ‘He’ll have to be satisfied with what we have.’
‘But he won’t eat it. He hates fish soup, he doesn’t even eat sturgeon soup. He never touches mutton, either.’
‘I could get some tongue from the sausage shop,’ she said as though with sudden inspiration. ‘It’s not far from here.’
‘That’s all right, do that. And get some vegetables, fresh kidney beans….!’
‘Kidney beans are eighty copecks a pound,’ she was about to say, but didn’t.
‘Very well, I will,’ she said, making up her mind definitely to get cabbage instead of the beans.
‘Get a pound of Swiss cheese,’ he commanded, having no idea of Agafya Matveyevna’s means. ‘And nothing more. I’ll apologize and say we had not expected him…. Oh yes, could you perhaps get some nice clear soup, too?’
She was about to leave the room.
‘And the wine?’ he suddenly remembered.
She answered with a new look of horror.
‘You must send out for some Lafitte,’ he concluded coolly.
6
STOLZ arrived two hours later.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked.’ How changed you are! You look pale and bloated! Are you well?’
‘No, Andrey, not at all well,’ Oblomov said embracing him. ‘My left leg keeps going dead.’
‘Your room is in such an awful mess!’ Stolz said, looking round. ‘Why don’t you throw away this dressing-gown of yours? Look at it! It’s all in patches.’
‘Habit, Andrey. I’d be sorry to part from it.’
‘And the blankets, the curtains!’ Stolz began. ‘Is that also habit? Sorry to change these rags? Good Lord, man, can you really sleep in this bed? What is the matter with you?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ Oblomov said, looking embarrassed.