Oblomov - Ivan Goncharov [259]
‘To be worried by some fog, by phantoms,’ she complained. ‘All is so bright and sunny, and suddenly an ominous shadow falls upon life! Is there no remedy against it?’
‘Of course there is! You must find strength in life, and if you can’t, life becomes unbearable even without these questions.’
‘What am I to do, then? Yield and be miserable?’
‘Not at all,’ he said; ‘arm yourself with fortitude and go on your way in life patiently and perseveringly. You and I are not Titans,’ he went on, putting his arm round her; ‘we shall not go, like Manfred and Faust, to struggle defiantly with formidable problems; we shall not accept their challenge, but bow our heads and humbly go through the difficult times, and then life and happiness will smile upon us once more and – –’
‘But what if they never leave us alone and sadness troubles us more and more?’ she asked.
‘Well, what if it does? Let us accept it as a new element in life. But no, that does not happen; it cannot be so with us! This is not your sadness; it is the general ailment of mankind. One drop of it has fallen on you. All this is terrible when one has lost touch with life – when there’s nothing to sustain one. But with us – I only hope this melancholy of yours is what I think it is and not the symptom of some illness – that would be worse, that would be a calamity which would leave me utterly defenceless and helpless. But do you really think that some vague sadness, doubts, or questionings could deprive us of our happiness, our – –’
He did not finish the sentence, and she threw herself into his arms like one possessed and, clasping her arms round his neck, like a bacchante, in a passionate embrace, remained motionless like that for a moment.
‘Neither vague sadness, nor illness, nor – death!’ she whispered rapturously, once again happy, calm, and gay. It seemed to her that she never loved him so passionately as at this moment.
‘Take care that Fate does not overhear your complaint and take it for ingratitude,’ he concluded with a superstitious observation, inspired by tender solicitude. ‘She dislikes people who do not value her gifts. So far you were just getting to know life; you still have to test it. Wait till it gets going in good earnest, till sorrow and trouble come – and they will come – then you won’t have time for these questionings…. Husband your strength!’ Stolz added softly, almost as though he were speaking to himself, in answer to her passionate outburst. There was a note of sadness in his words, as though he already saw ‘the trouble and the sorrow’ in the distance.
She was silent, struck suddenly by the sadness in his voice. She had infinite faith in him, and the sound of his voice inspired trust in her. She was infected by his thoughtfulness and became absorbed in herself. Leaning on him, she walked slowly and mechanically up and down the avenue, sunk in deep silence. Following her husband’s example, she gazed apprehensively into the future where, as he said, trials, trouble, and sorrow awaited them. She was no longer dreaming of a blue night; another prospect opened up before her, one that was not translucent and festive, not life amid peace and plenty, alone with him. No, what she saw there was a series of privations and losses, bedewed with tears, unavoidable sacrifices, a life of fasting and forced renunciation, of fancies born in idleness, groans and lamentations caused by new feelings they had not experienced before; she dreamed of illness, business failures, her husband’s death…. She shuddered, she lost heart, but she gazed with courage and curiosity at that new aspect of life, examined it with horror and measured her strength against it…. Love alone did not betray her in that dream; it kept guard faithfully over this new life, too; and yet it, too, was different! There were no ardent sighs, no bright rays, and no blue nights; as