Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [248]
‘Have I, indeed? I’m afraid it’s good-bye to my income. I haven’t finished telling you what the General said.’
‘Why, what was it?’ Tarantyev asked, getting suddenly frightened again.
‘He told me to send in my resignation!’
‘Good Lord!’ Tarantyev said, staring at Ivan Matveyevich. ‘Well,’ he concluded furiously. ‘I’ll tell him off properly now!’
‘All you can do is to tell people off!’
‘I’ll tell him what I think of him, whatever you say!’ said Tarantyev. ‘Still, perhaps you’re right, and I’d better wait. I’ve just thought of something. Listen, old man.’
‘Not again?’ Ivan Matveyevich cried doubtfully.
‘We could do an excellent piece of business, only it’s a pity you’ve moved to another house.’
‘What is that?’
‘What is that!’ Tarantyev said, looking at Ivan Matveyevich. ‘Spy on Oblomov and your sister, see the sort of pies they are baking there, and – have your witnesses ready! The German himself won’t be able to do anything then. And you’re a free man now: if you bring an action against him – it’s perfectly legal! I daresay the German, too, will get cold feet and be glad to come to some arrangement.’
‘I don’t know, it might work!’ said Ivan Matveyevich thoughtfully. ‘You’re not bad at thinking out new ideas, but you’re no good at all for business, neither is Zatyorty. But I’ll find some way. Wait a moment!’ he said, getting excited. ‘I’ll show them! I’ll send my cook round to my sister’s kitchen: she’ll make friends with Anisya and find out everything, and then – let’s have a drink, old man!’
‘Let’s have a drink!’ Tarantyev repeated. ‘And then I’ll give Oblomov a piece of my mind!’
Stolz tried to take Oblomov away to the country, but Oblomov asked him to let him remain only for a month, and he asked him so earnestly that Stolz could not help taking pity on his friend. Oblomov claimed that he needed that month to pay his accounts, to give up the flat, and to settle his affairs in Petersburg so that he need not return there. He had, besides, to buy everything he needed for his country house; finally, he wanted to find a good housekeeper, someone like Agafya Matveyevna, and he did not even despair of persuading her to sell her house and move to the country, to a job worthy of her – complicated housekeeping on quite a vast scale.
‘Incidentally, about that landlady of yours,’ Stolz interrupted him. ‘I wanted to ask you, Ilya, what are your relations with her?’
Oblomov blushed suddenly.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked hurriedly.
‘You know very well,’ Stolz observed, ‘or there wouldn’t have been any reason for you to blush. Listen, Ilya, if a warning can be of any use, I ask you in the name of our friendship to be careful.’
‘What of? Good heavens!’ Oblomov, looking embarrassed, protested.
‘You speak of her with such warmth that I am really beginning to think that you…’
‘Love her, did you want to say? Good heavens!’ Oblomov interrupted with a forced laugh.
‘Well, all the worse if there isn’t anything spiritual about it, If it’s only – –’
‘Andrey, have you ever known me to do anything immoral?’
‘Why did you blush, then?’
‘Because you could have thought such a thing about me.’
Stolz shook his head doubtfully.
‘Take care, Ilya, and don’t fall into the pit. A common woman, filthy life, a stifling atmosphere, stupidity, coarseness – faugh!’
Oblomov was silent.
‘Well, good-bye,’ Stolz concluded. ‘So I’ll tell Olga we shall see you in summer, if not at our house, then at Oblomovka. Remember: she will not leave you alone.’
‘Certainly, certainly,’ Oblomov replied. ‘You may even add that, if she lets me, I’ll spend the winter with you.’
‘We should be delighted!’
Stolz left the same day, and in the evening Tarantyev came to see Oblomov. He could not restrain himself from hauling him over the coals on account of Ivan Matveyevich. He omitted to take one thing into consideration, namely, that in the llyinskys’ social circle Oblomov had lost the habit of associating with people like himself