Through Russia [122]
from my hands!
"Meanwhile her song about 'Not for me' used to make me feel sorry for her. 'Not for you? ' I used to say to myself. 'Ought not EVERYTHING to be for you? ' And this reflection would cause my heart to yearn and stretch towards her. Next, I bought a guitar, an instrument which I could not play, and took it for instruction to Lukianov, the clerk of the Divisional Staff, which had its headquarters in our street. In passing I may say that Lukianov was a little Jewish convert with dark hair, sallow features, and gimlet-sharp eyes, but beyond all things a fellow with brains, and one who could play the guitar unforgettably.
"Once he said: 'In life all things are attainable--nothing need we lose for want of trying. For whence does everything come? From the plainest of mankind. A man may not be BORN in the rank of a general, but at least he may attain to that position. Also, the beginning and ending of all things is woman. All that she requires for her captivation is poetry. Hence, let me write you some verses, that you may tender them to her as an offering.'
"These, mind you, were the words of a man in whom the heart was absolutely single, absolutely dispassionate."
Until then Kalinin had told his story swiftly, with animation; but thereafter he seemed, as it were, to become extinguished. After a pause of a few seconds he continued--continued in slower, to all appearances more unwilling, accents--
"At the time I believed what Lukianov said, but subsequently I came to see that things were not altogether as he had represented--that woman is merely a delusion, and poetry merely fiddle-faddle; and that a man cannot escape his fate, and that, though good in war, boldness is, in peace affairs, but naked effrontery. In this, brother, lies the chief, the fundamental law of life. For the world contains certain people of high station, and certain people of low; and so long as these two categories retain their respective positions, all goes well; but as soon as ever a man seeks to pass from the upper category to the inferior category, or from the inferior to the upper, the fat falls into the fire, and that man finds himself stuck midway, stuck neither here nor there, and bound to abide there for the remainder of his life, for the remainder of his life. . . . Always keep to your own position, to the position assigned you by fate.. . . . Will the rain NEVER cease, think you?"
By this time, as a matter of fact, the raindrops. were falling less heavily and densely than hitherto, and the wet clouds were beginning to reveal bright patches in the moisture-soaked firmament, as evidence that the sun was still in existence.
"Continue," I said.
Kalinin laughed.
"Then you find the story an interesting one," he remarked.
Presently he resumed:
"As I have said, I trusted Lukianov implicitly, and begged of him to write the verses. And write them he did--he wrote them the very next day. True, at this distance of time I have forgotten the words in their entirety, but at least I remember that there occurred in them a phrase to the effect that 'for days and weeks have your eyes been consuming my heart in the fire of love, so pity me, I pray.' I then proceeded to copy out the poem, and tremblingly to leave it on her table.
"The next morning, when I was tidying her boudoir, she made an unexpected entry, and, clad in a loose, red dressing-gown, and holding a cigarette between her lips, said to me with a kindly smile as she produced my precious paper of verses:
"'Alexei, did YOU write these?'
"'Yes,' was my reply. 'And for Christ's sake pardon me for the same.'
"'What a pity that such a fancy should have entered your head! For, you see, I am engaged already--my uncle is intending to marry me to Doctor Kliachka, and I am powerless in the matter.'
"The very fact that she could address me with so much sympathy and kindness struck me dumb. As regards Doctor Kliachka, I may mention that he was a good-looking, blotchy-faced, heavy-jowled fellow with a moustache that reached to his shoulders, and lips that were
"Meanwhile her song about 'Not for me' used to make me feel sorry for her. 'Not for you? ' I used to say to myself. 'Ought not EVERYTHING to be for you? ' And this reflection would cause my heart to yearn and stretch towards her. Next, I bought a guitar, an instrument which I could not play, and took it for instruction to Lukianov, the clerk of the Divisional Staff, which had its headquarters in our street. In passing I may say that Lukianov was a little Jewish convert with dark hair, sallow features, and gimlet-sharp eyes, but beyond all things a fellow with brains, and one who could play the guitar unforgettably.
"Once he said: 'In life all things are attainable--nothing need we lose for want of trying. For whence does everything come? From the plainest of mankind. A man may not be BORN in the rank of a general, but at least he may attain to that position. Also, the beginning and ending of all things is woman. All that she requires for her captivation is poetry. Hence, let me write you some verses, that you may tender them to her as an offering.'
"These, mind you, were the words of a man in whom the heart was absolutely single, absolutely dispassionate."
Until then Kalinin had told his story swiftly, with animation; but thereafter he seemed, as it were, to become extinguished. After a pause of a few seconds he continued--continued in slower, to all appearances more unwilling, accents--
"At the time I believed what Lukianov said, but subsequently I came to see that things were not altogether as he had represented--that woman is merely a delusion, and poetry merely fiddle-faddle; and that a man cannot escape his fate, and that, though good in war, boldness is, in peace affairs, but naked effrontery. In this, brother, lies the chief, the fundamental law of life. For the world contains certain people of high station, and certain people of low; and so long as these two categories retain their respective positions, all goes well; but as soon as ever a man seeks to pass from the upper category to the inferior category, or from the inferior to the upper, the fat falls into the fire, and that man finds himself stuck midway, stuck neither here nor there, and bound to abide there for the remainder of his life, for the remainder of his life. . . . Always keep to your own position, to the position assigned you by fate.. . . . Will the rain NEVER cease, think you?"
By this time, as a matter of fact, the raindrops. were falling less heavily and densely than hitherto, and the wet clouds were beginning to reveal bright patches in the moisture-soaked firmament, as evidence that the sun was still in existence.
"Continue," I said.
Kalinin laughed.
"Then you find the story an interesting one," he remarked.
Presently he resumed:
"As I have said, I trusted Lukianov implicitly, and begged of him to write the verses. And write them he did--he wrote them the very next day. True, at this distance of time I have forgotten the words in their entirety, but at least I remember that there occurred in them a phrase to the effect that 'for days and weeks have your eyes been consuming my heart in the fire of love, so pity me, I pray.' I then proceeded to copy out the poem, and tremblingly to leave it on her table.
"The next morning, when I was tidying her boudoir, she made an unexpected entry, and, clad in a loose, red dressing-gown, and holding a cigarette between her lips, said to me with a kindly smile as she produced my precious paper of verses:
"'Alexei, did YOU write these?'
"'Yes,' was my reply. 'And for Christ's sake pardon me for the same.'
"'What a pity that such a fancy should have entered your head! For, you see, I am engaged already--my uncle is intending to marry me to Doctor Kliachka, and I am powerless in the matter.'
"The very fact that she could address me with so much sympathy and kindness struck me dumb. As regards Doctor Kliachka, I may mention that he was a good-looking, blotchy-faced, heavy-jowled fellow with a moustache that reached to his shoulders, and lips that were