Chapter 11 11. A house with a loft
painter's story
This was six or seven years ago, when I was living in the estate of a landowner Belokurov in a certain county in the province of T.Byelokurov, a young man who rises at dawn, wears a tunic, drinks beer every evening, complains to me that he has no sympathy from anyone anywhere.He lived in a wing in the garden, and I lived in the hall of the landowner's old house.This hall, with its many columns, contained no furniture except a great couch where I slept, and a table where I laid out my cards.The old Amosov fireplaces inside kept humming, even in fine weather.In the event of a heavy thunderstorm, the whole house trembled, as if it was about to collapse with a bang.Especially at night, when the ten great windows were suddenly lit up with lightning, it was a little frightening.
I am lazy by nature, so I simply do nothing this time.For hours on end I watched the sky, the birds, and the avenue, read the books that came to me, or slept.Sometimes I go out and wander somewhere and don't come back until very late.
One day, on my way home, I accidentally walked into a strange manor.The sun had set now, and the shadows of evening stretched across the blossoming rye fields.Two rows of tall and dense old spruces, like two continuous walls, create a dark and beautiful avenue.I easily climbed over a fence and walked along this tree-lined road. The ground was covered with needles an inch thick, and it was a bit slippery to walk on.The surroundings are quiet and dark, except for the bright golden light flashing from time to time on the tall treetops, and some spider webs change into rainbow-like colors, and the smell of needles is so strong that people can't breathe.Then I turned the corner and walked up a long avenue of wrought trees.Here too, it is desolate and ancient.The last year's leaves rustled sadly underfoot, and shadows lay among the trees in the twilight.In an old orchard on the right, a yellow warbler is singing lazily and softly, it must be getting old.Finally, when the linden avenue came to an end, I passed a white house with a verandah and attic, and suddenly I saw a manor courtyard and a wide pond.The pond is surrounded by green willows and has a bathing shed.There was a village on the other side of the pond, and a tall, narrow bell tower with a golden cross on it in the setting sun.For a moment, a kind and familiar feeling made me feel refreshed, as if I had already seen the scene in front of me when I was a child.
A white brick gate leads from the courtyard to the field. This gate is old and strong, with a pair of stone lions on both sides.Two girls stood at the gate.One of them was older, slender, pale, and very handsome, with a mass of chestnut hair, a small chiseled mouth, and a stern expression that seemed to disdain me.The other was still very young, sixteen or eighteen at most, equally slender and pale, with a bigger mouth, and a pair of big eyes watched me pass by in surprise, said something in English, and writhed again.I seem to feel that these two lovely faces are already familiar.I returned to my residence happily, as if I had a good dream.
Not long after that, one afternoon, while Byelokurov and I were walking outside the house, we heard rustling in the grass, and a carriage with spring seats drove into the yard, and in it sat the elderly girl. .She came to collect donations for the villagers who suffered from the fire, and she carried a pledge list with her.Without looking us in the eye, she told us in all seriousness and detail how many houses had been burned in Sianovo, how many men, women, and children had been made homeless, and what the preliminary plans of the Disaster Relief Committee—of which she was now a member—were told. member.She asked us to pledge and sign, and left immediately after putting away the list.
"You have completely forgotten about us, Pyotr Petrovich," she said to Byelokurov, holding out her hand to him, "you come, if Mr. So-and-so (she gave my name) came to the cottage, would you like Mom and I would be honored to see what life is like for someone who admires his genius."
I bow in thanks.
After she had gone, Pyotr Petrovich began to describe her family.According to him, the girl was from a good family, and her name was Lydia Volchaninovna, and the estate where she lived with her mother and sister, and the village on the other side of the pond, were called Sherkovka.Her father had a prominent position in Moscow back then, and was already a third-rank civil servant when he died.Despite their wealth, the Volchaninov family always lived in the country, never going out in summer or winter.Lydia taught at the Zemstvo elementary school in Shelkovka and was paid twenty-five rubles a month.She relies on this income for her own expenses, and she prides herself on being self-supporting.
"It's an interesting family," said Byelokurov. "Well, let's go and see them someday. They will welcome you."
One festive afternoon we thought of the Volchaninovs and set off for Sherkovka to visit them.The mother and two daughters are at home.The mother, Ekaterina Pavlovna, must have been a beauty in those days, but now she was plump, older than her age, and suffering from asthma.She looked melancholy and indifferent, and tried to talk about painting in order to interest me.She had learned from her daughter that I might go to Shelkovka, and she suddenly remembered two landscapes she had seen of me at an exhibition in Moscow.Now she asks me what I want to express in these paintings.Lydia, whom the family called Lida, spent most of her time talking with Byelokurov and rarely with me.She asked him gravely and unsmilingly why he was not serving in the Zemstvo and why he had never attended a Zemstvo meeting until now.
"It's not good, Pyotr Petrovitch," she reproached, "it's not good. Be ashamed."
"You're right, Lida is right," agreed the mother, "it's not good."
"Our whole county is in the hands of Barakin," continued Leda, turning to me, "who himself is chairman of the Zemstvo executive committee, and he distributes all the posts in the county to his nephews. And son-in-law, you will do what you want and do what you want. Fighting is the way to go. Young people should form a strong faction, but you see what our young people are like here. Shame on you, Pyotr Petrovich!"
While everyone was talking about the Zemstvo, sister Genia remained silent.She never took part in serious conversations.The family does not treat her as an adult, because she is small, everyone calls her Missy, this is because she called her governess Miss when she was a child.She kept looking at me curiously. When I flipped through the photo book, she explained to me from time to time: "This is my uncle...this is my godfather", pointing at the photos with her slender fingers.Then she pressed her shoulders to me like a child, and I saw up close her slender undeveloped breasts, thin shoulders, braided hair, and slender body tightly girded.
We played croquet, played tennis, walked in the garden, drank tea and then killed a long time at dinner.After being used to living in the large and empty columned hall, it was a little uncomfortable to come to this small but comfortable house for a while.Here there are no crude lithographs on the walls, here the servants are addressed as "you", here everything looks young and pure because of Leda and Misius, and there is an upper-class atmosphere everywhere.At dinner, Lida and Byelokurov talked again about the Zemstvo, Brakin, and the school library.This is a lively, sincere, self-assured girl, and it is interesting to listen to her talk, although she talks a lot and loudly--this may be her habit of lecturing.But my Pyotr Petrovich, from the time he was in college, had the habit of leading the conversation into arguments, and he talked dryly and at length, always trying to show off that he was a progressive man with a head.While he was gesticulating, he turned over a bowl of sauce on his sleeve, making a pool of grease on the tablecloth, but no one seemed to see it except me.
It was dark when we started back, and everything was silent.
"A good upbringing is not that you don't overturn the sauce and stain the tablecloth, but that you don't see it when someone else overturns it," said Byelokurov with a sigh. Good, well-bred family. I have very little contact with these noble people, very little! Busy! Busy!"
He said that if you want to do a good job in farming, it takes a lot of hard work.And I thought: how dull and lazy he is!Whenever he talked about something serious, he would draw out his voice on purpose, alas, he did things as he talked-slowly, always procrastinating, and missed deadlines.I am no longer convinced of his seriousness, because I asked him to go to the post office to deliver a few letters, only to find out that he kept the letters in his pocket for several weeks.
"The hardest part," he muttered, walking beside me, "is the hardest part when you work so hard and get no sympathy from anyone. No sympathy!"
From then on I often went to the Volchaninovs' house.Usually I sit on the bottom step of the verandah.I was depressed, dissatisfied with myself, and lamented that my life had passed by so quickly and was not interesting.I keep thinking that my heart is getting so heavy that I should just dig it out of my chest.At this time, someone was talking on the verandah, and there were the sounds of clothes being pulled and books being turned.I soon got used to Lida's activities: during the day she saw patients, distributed books, often went to the village without a hat and an umbrella, and at night talked loudly about Zemstvo and the school.This slender, pretty girl, with her perpetually serious air and her small, chiseled mouth, always said to me coldly, whenever a serious subject came up: "You won't be interested in such things."
She doesn't like me.She disliked me because I was a landscape painter and did not reflect the plight of the people in my paintings, and she felt that I was indifferent to the cause in which she believed.I couldn't help but recall a past event. Once I was passing by the shore of Lake Baikal and met a Buryat girl riding a horse and wearing a blue trousers jacket.I asked her if she could sell me her pipe.While we were talking, she kept looking at my European face and my hat with disdain, and after a while she didn't bother to answer me.With a yell, she galloped away.Lida also despised me in the same way, and seemed to regard me as a foreigner.Of course, she never showed her dissatisfaction with me on the outside, but I could feel it, so whenever I sat on the bottom step of the balcony, I always sulked and said: I am not a doctor But to see a doctor for the peasants is tantamount to deceiving them, and besides, it is not easy to be a philanthropist who owns two thousand dessiatines of land.
Her sister Missus, who had nothing to worry about, lived a life of complete idleness, like myself.After getting up in the morning, she immediately took a book and sat in the deep armchair on the balcony to read, her legs just touching the ground.Sometimes she took her book and hid in a very tree-lined avenue, or simply ran out of the gate into the field.She reads all day long, reading with rapt attention.Sometimes her eyes got tired, her gaze became glazed, and her face became very pale, from which it was only from these signs that she could guess how tired her mind was from this reading.Whenever I go to her house, she blushes a little when she sees me, puts down the book, stares at my face with two big eyes, and tells me what happened at home with great interest, such as the chimney in the lower room caught fire or a hired hand catches a big fish in a pond.She usually wears light-colored tops and dark-colored skirts.We walked together, picked cherries for jam, and rowed.Whenever she jumped up to reach the cherry or paddle, her thin arms protruded from her wide cuffs.Sometimes when I was sketching, she would stand by and watch me paint, praising me repeatedly.
One Sunday at the end of July, I arrived at the Volchaninov's house just after nine o'clock in the morning.I first took a walk in the garden, looking for white mushrooms as I walked farther away from the main house.There were a lot of these mushrooms that summer, and I put a mark on the side, waiting to pick them with Renia later.Gentle.I saw Zhenya and her mother wearing light-colored festive dresses, returning from church. Zhenya was pressing the hat with one hand, probably afraid of being blown off by the wind.Later I heard them drinking tea on the verandah.
I am a carefree person and always looking for an excuse for my idle life, so the holiday mornings on our estate in summer are always very attractive.Then the air was moist and the dew glistened in the lush gardens, and everything was shining and joyous in the light of the morning sun; and there was the scent of mignonette and phlox near the house, and the young man had just returned from church, Drinking tea in the garden; when everyone is well-dressed and happy; and then you know that all these healthy, well-fed, beautiful people can do anything during the long summer days Don't do it—at such moments, you can't help but think: I wish I could live this life for the rest of my life.As I was thinking of this, I was walking in the garden, and I was going to walk like this all day, all summer long, with nothing to do and no purpose.
Zhenya came with a basket.From the look on her face, it was as if she knew or had a premonition that I would be found in the garden.We picked mushrooms together and chatted.When she wants to ask me something, she takes a few steps forward so she can see my face clearly.
"A miracle happened in our village yesterday," she said. "The lame Pelagia has been ill for a whole year, and no doctor or medicine will care about it, but yesterday an old woman muttered for a while, and she was cured." .”
"That's nothing," I said. "One should not look for miracles in sick people and old women. Isn't health a miracle? Isn't life itself a miracle? Everything that is incomprehensible is a miracle."
"But don't you feel terrible about those incomprehensible things?"
"Not afraid. For those phenomena that I don't understand, I always go up to them with vigor and do not give in to them. I am superior to them. People should realize that they are superior to lions, tigers, orangutans, and all creatures in nature. He must be smarter than everything else, even smarter than those incomprehensible things that are regarded as miracles, otherwise he would not be considered a human being, but the kind of mouse who is afraid of everything."
Zhenya thought that since I am a painter, I must know a lot, even if I don't know some things, I can probably figure it out.She wanted me to lead her into that eternal and wonderful world, into that sublime world where, as she saw it, I was my own, and she could talk to me about God, about eternal life, about miracles .And I didn't think that I and my thoughts would cease to exist after my death, so I replied: "Yes, man is immortal,"
"Yes, we shall live forever." She listened, believed, and asked no arguments.
We went up to the house, when she stopped suddenly and said: "Our Lida is a wonderful person, isn't she? I love her passionately, and would give my life for her at any moment. But tell me," any Nia touched my sleeve with her fingers, "Tell me why you keep arguing with her? Why do you get angry at every turn?"
"Because she's wrong."
Zhenya shook her head in disapproval, with tears in her eyes.
"It's incomprehensible!" she said.
At this moment, Lida just came back from somewhere, and she was standing near the steps with a riding whip in her hand, looking even more slender and beautiful in the sunlight.She was giving orders to the servants.In a hurry, talking loudly, she received two or three patients, then walked through all the rooms with a serious and worried face, opening one cupboard and another, and finally went to the attic.Everyone looked for her for a long time and asked her to have lunch.We had finished our soup by the time she arrived, and I somehow remember all these details vividly.Although nothing special happened during the whole day, the memory is vivid and joyful.After lunch, Zhenya buried herself in the deep armchair and read a book again, and I sat on the bottom step again.Everyone is silent.The sky was cloudy, and it was raining sparsely.The weather was muggy and the wind had died down long ago, as if the day would never end.Ekaterina Pavlovna also came out on the verandah, looking sleepy, with a fan in her hand.
"Ah, mother," said Genia, kissing her hand, "it's bad for your health to sleep during the day."
They love each other.One went to the garden, and the other must have stood on the balcony, looking at the woods and calling, "Hello, Zhenya!" or "Mother, where are you?" They often prayed together, and they both believed in God. Even if you don't speak, you can understand each other.They both have the same attitude towards people.Ekaterina Pavlovna got to know me very quickly, liked me, and if I didn't go for two or three days, she would send to find out if I was ill.Like Mieshus, she also looked at my drawings with admiration, told me what happened without any scruples, and even revealed some family secrets to me.
She adores her eldest daughter.Lida never showed affection to people, only said serious things.She lived her own unique life. In the eyes of her mother and sister, she was a sacred and somewhat mysterious person, just like the admiral in the eyes of sailors, who always sat in the captain's cabin, making it difficult for others. near.
"Our Lida is a wonderful person," my mother used to say, "isn't she?"
It was drizzling now, and we talked about Leda.
"She's a marvelous person," said the mother, and looking around timidly, added furtively in a low voice, "the kind of person you can't find in daylight with a lantern. But, you know, I'm beginning to worry a little Yes. School, pharmacy, books, it's all very well, but why go to extremes? She's twenty-four years old, and it's time for her to think about herself. So busy with books and pharmacy. Lulu, before you know it, her golden years will pass...she should get married."
Zhenya's face turned pale and her hair was disheveled from reading. She raised her head, looked at her mother, and said to herself, "Mom, everything depends on God's will."
After speaking, I buried myself in the book again.
Byelokurov came in a tunic and an embroidered shirt.We played croquet and tennis.Later, when it was dark, everyone ate dinner and spent a long time.Lida went on to talk about the school and about Labagin who had the whole county in his hands.When I left the Volchaninovs' house this evening, I took with me the pleasant impression of a long and idle day, and at the same time a sad realization that everything in this world, however long it may be, must come to an end when.Perhaps it was because Zhenya sent us to the gate because she had been with me from morning till night, and I felt that it was a little lonely to be away from her, and this lovely family was very dear to me.For the first time since I was born, I have the desire to paint.
"Please tell me why your life is so dull and colorless?" I asked Belokurov when I went home with him, "My life is dull, dull, and monotonous because I am a painter and I I'm a weirdo, I've been tortured mentally since I was a boy: envious of others, dissatisfied with myself, lack of confidence in my career, I have always been poor, wandering everywhere; but you, you are a healthy and normal person, a landowner, a Monsieur—why do you live so dullly? Why do you get so little out of life? Why, for example, have you not fallen in love with Leda or Genia so far?"
"You forget that I love another woman," replied Byelokurov.
He meant his girlfriend, Lyubov Ivanovna, who lived with him in the lodge.I see this lady walking in the garden every day.She was extremely plump, fat, and haughty, like a fattened goose, wearing a Russian dress and necklace, and often carrying a small parasol.From time to time the servants called her back to eat or drink tea.Three years ago she had rented a wing as a villa, and she had lived with the Belokurovs ever since, and it seemed that she would never leave.She was ten years older than him and kept him under such strict control that he had to ask her permission every time he went out.She often cried out in a manly voice, and when this happened, I sent someone to tell her that if she continued to cry, I would move immediately, and she stopped.
When we got home, Byelokurov sat on the sofa, frowning and thinking about something, while I paced up and down the hall like a man in love, feeling the excitement and joy in my heart.I couldn't help but want to talk about the Volchaninovs.
"Rida will only fall in love with the local councilor, and like her, she must also be enthusiastic about running hospitals and schools," I said. In that way, I am willing to wear broken iron shoes. And that Missus, how cute she is!"
Byelokurov was talking slowly about the disease of the times—pessimism.He spoke so eloquently that it sounded like I was arguing with him.If a man sits there talking loudly and doesn't know when he's going to leave, you'll feel far more depressed than walking through hundreds of versts of desolate, monotonous, dry steppe.
"The question is not pessimism or optimism," I said angrily, "the question is that ninety-nine people out of a hundred have no brains!"
Belokurov thought the words were meant for him, and left in a fit of anger.
"The prince is a guest in the village of Malogyomovo. He greets you," Lida said to her mother, returning from nowhere, taking off her gloves. The question of setting up a medical clinic in the village of Malodyomovo was once again brought up on the Internet. But he said that there is little hope." Then she turned to me and said: "I'm sorry, I forgot again, you don't know anything about such things Interested in."
I feel angry.
"Why not?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders. "You don't like to know my opinion, but I can assure you that it does interest me."
"yes?"
"Yes. In my opinion, there is absolutely no need for an infirmary in Malodyomovo."
My anger spread to her.She glanced at me, squinted her eyes, and asked, "So what do you want? A landscape painting?"
"Landscapes aren't needed either. Nothing is needed there."
She took off her gloves and picked up a newspaper that had just been delivered by the postman.After a while, obviously restraining herself, she whispered: "Anna died in childbirth last week. If there was an infirmary nearby, she would have survived. I think gentlemen landscape painters should have a clear opinion on this."
"I have a very definite opinion on this, please believe me," I replied, but she shielded my view with the newspaper, as if she would not listen to me, "in my opinion, the infirmary, the school, the library, the pharmacy, etc. Wait, the existing conditions are only conducive to slavery. The people are bound hand and foot by a huge chain, and instead of breaking this chain, you add many new links to it—that is my opinion. "
She looked up at me and smiled mockingly.I went on, trying to catch my main idea: "The problem is not that Anna died in childbirth, but that all these Annas, Maveras, and Pelagias were bent over from morning to night, overwhelmed. Labor made them sick all the time, they worried about their starving and sick children all their lives, they were afraid of death and disease all their lives, they sought medical treatment all their lives, they were prematurely old, their faces were haggard, and they died in the filth and stench. Their children grew up When they grow up, they repeat the same old routine again. Hundreds of years have passed like this, and thousands of people live a life that is worse than pigs and dogs-just for a piece of bread, they are always in fear. The reason why their situation is terrible is that they do not have They always think about their own soul, not their own image and appearance. Hunger, cold, instinctive fear, and heavy labor block the way of their spiritual life like an avalanche. Only the spiritual life is what distinguishes human beings from animals. His only pursuit in life. You go among them, you help them with hospitals and schools, but you do not free them from bondage, on the contrary, you enslave them further because of the life you give them You add new prejudices, you widen the range of their needs, not to mention that they have to pay the Zemstvo for sting poultices and books, which means they have to work harder."
"I don't want to argue with you," said Lida, putting down the newspaper. "I've heard this before. I just want to say to you: don't stand idly by. It's true that we can't save humanity, and we can make mistakes in many ways." , but we are doing what we can, so we are right. The highest and most sacred mission of a cultured person is to serve the people around us, so we do it to the best of our ability. You don't like this, but one You can’t do things to please everyone.”
"That's right, Lida is right," agreed the mother.
She was always a little timid in Lida's presence, watching her face uneasily as she spoke, for fear of saying something superfluous or inappropriate.She never objected to her opinions, and always echoed them: "That's right, Lida is right."
"Teaching the peasants to read and write, distributing books full of pitiful preaching and folklore, and setting up dispensaries will neither abolish ignorance nor reduce death rates, any more than the light in your house can illuminate the great garden outside your window." I said, "You're not giving them anything, you're interfering in their lives, and you're only creating new needs and more labor for them,"
"Oh, my God, but one has to do something!" said Lida angrily, and it was clear from her tone that she found my arguments unreasonable and despised them.
"Men must be freed from heavy physical labor," I said, "they must be lightened and given breathing space, so that they do not spend their lives sitting at the hearth and wash-tub, or working in the fields, Let them also have time to think about the soul and God, and be able to develop their spiritual talents more widely. The mission of everyone in spiritual activities is to seek truth and meaning in life. Once you make them that lumbering animal Labor becomes unnecessary, once you make them feel free, then you will see that your books and pharmacies are a mockery. Now that men are aware of their true calling, only religion can satisfy them , science, and art, and not such nonsense."
"Freedom from labor!" Lida sneered, "is this possible?"
"Possible. You may share part of their labor. If we, all the inhabitants of town and country, without exception, agree to share their labor aimed at satisfying the material needs of all mankind, then each of us may not be divided more than two days a day." Three hours. Imagine if we, all rich and poor, worked only three hours a day, and the rest of the time we would be free. Imagine also that in order to depend less on our physical strength, to lighten our labor, We invent all kinds of machines to replace labor, and try to reduce our needs to a minimum. We train ourselves and our children so that they will not be afraid of hunger and cold, so that we will not be like Anna, Mavera and Pei Like Ragiya, I worry about the health of my children all day long. Think about it, we don’t see a doctor, we don’t open a pharmacy, a tobacco factory, and a winery—how much time we will have in the end! Let’s all work together. This leisure time is dedicated to science and art. Just as farmers sometimes go out together to build roads, so we all go out together to find out the truth and the meaning of life, and then--I am sure of this--the truth will soon Revealed, one can be freed from the often tormenting and oppressive sense of dread, even from death itself."
"However, you are contradicting yourself," Lida said. "You keep saying 'science', 'science', but you deny literacy education."
"What about literacy education when people can only read hotel signs and occasionally see a few books they don't understand? Such literacy education has continued since the time of Rurik, Gogol The Petrushka in his pen has long been able to read and write, but the countryside, what it was like in Rurik's time, is what it is now. What we need is not literacy education, but the freedom to develop spiritual talents on a wide scale, what we need Not elementary school, but university."
"You object even to medicine."
"Yes. Medicine is necessary only if the disease is studied as a natural phenomenon, and not as a cure. If it is to be cured, it is not to cure the disease, but to cure the cause, provided that the physical labor is eliminated. If there is no major cause, then there will be no disease. I do not admit that there is any science of healing,” I continued excitedly, “all true science and art pursue not temporary and local goals, but eternal Holistic goals—they seek truth and meaning in life, seek God and the heart. They can only complicate and burden life if they are tied to present needs and pressing problems. We have many physicians , pharmacists, lawyers, many people who can read, but not a single biologist, mathematician, philosopher, and waiter. All the ingenuity and mental power are expended in satisfying temporary, fleeting needs. . . . Scholars, writers and artists are working hard. Thanks to their efforts, people's living conditions are becoming more and more comfortable every day, and people's material needs are constantly increasing. At the same time, they are far from the truth, and people are still the most greedy and cruel , the most despicable and nasty animal. The tendency of things is that the majority of human beings will degenerate and lose forever all ability to live. Under such conditions, the life of an artist is meaningless. The more talented he is, the more effective he will be. The more strange and incomprehensible it is, because in fact his work is just for the entertainment of the cruel and despicable Qin Lu, and it is to maintain the current system. So I don't want to work now, and I won't work in the future... I don't need anything, let the earth Destroy it!"
"Misius, you get out," said Lida to her sister, evidently thinking that my remarks were injurious to such a young girl.
Zhenya looked at her sister and mother displeasedly, and went out.
"Some people want to justify their indifference and always make such clever remarks." Lida said, "It is much easier to deny hospitals and schools than to treat people and teach people."
"That's right, Lida is right," agreed the mother.
"You threatened to stop working," Lida went on. "It is obvious that you value your work very highly. Let's stop arguing, we will never get together anyway, because you just talked so contemptuously about Even if they are very imperfect, I think they are higher than all the landscape paintings in the world." At this point, she immediately said to her mother in a completely different tone: "Since the Duke left our house , he has lost a lot of weight, and his appearance has changed a lot. The family will send him to Vichy."
She talked about the Duke to her mother, obviously not wanting to talk to me.Her face was flushed, and in order to conceal her excitement, she lowered her head to the table like a nearsighted person, pretending to be reading a newspaper.My presence is embarrassing.So I said goodbye and went home.
It was very quiet outside.The village on the other side of the pond was already asleep, and there was no light in sight, only the dim starry sky reflected dimly on the water.Zhenya stood motionless beside the stone lion in front of the gate, waiting for me, wanting to see me off.
"Everyone in the village is asleep," I said to her, trying to see her face in the darkness, but I saw a pair of sad black eyes fixed on me, "even the tavern keeper and the horse thief are asleep." , us upper class people are vomiting at each other and arguing endlessly."
It was a bleak August night, and the reason why it was bleak was that it already had the feeling of autumn.The purple moon was slowly rising, and the hazy moonlight illuminated the road and the dark winter wheat fields on both sides of the road.From time to time, meteors fell down.Zhenya and I were walking side by side, she tried not to look at the sky, lest she should see a shooting star, and for some reason she was frightened.
"I think you're right," she said, shivering in the dampness of the night, "that if people unite and dedicate themselves to spiritual activities, they'll soon understand."
“当然。我们是万物之灵。如果我们当真能认识到人类天才的全部力量，而且只为崇高的目的而生活，那么我们最终会变成神。然而这永远是不可能的：人类将退化，连天才也不会留下痕迹。”
大门已经看不见，任妮亚站住了，急匆匆跟我握手。
“晚安，”她打着哆嗦说，她只穿一件衬衫，冷得瑟缩着，“明天您再来。”
想到只剩下我一个人，生着闷气，对己对人都不满意，我不禁感到害怕。我也竭力不去看天上的流星。
“再跟我待一会儿，”我说，“求求您了。”
我爱任妮亚。我爱她也许是因为她总来迎我，送我，因为她总是温柔而欣喜地望着我。她那苍白的脸，娇嫩的脖颈，纤细的手，她的柔弱，闲散，她的书，是多么美妙而动人！那么，智慧呢？我怀疑她有杰出的才能，但我赞赏她的眼界开阔，也许这是因为她的许多想法跟严肃、漂亮、却不喜欢我的丽达完全不同。任妮亚喜欢我这个画家，我的才能征服了她的心。我也一心只想为她作画，在我的幻想中，她是我娇小的皇后，她跟我共同拥有这些树林、田野、雾召和朝霞，拥有这美丽迷人的大自然，尽管在这里我至今仍感到极其孤独，像个多余的人。
“再待一会儿，”我央求道，“求求您了。”
我脱下大衣，披到她冰凉的肩上。她怕穿着男人的大衣可笑、难看，便笑起来，把大衣甩掉了。趁这时我把她搂在怀里，连连吻她的脸、肩膀和手。
“明天见！”她悄声说，然后小心翼翼地拥抱我，似乎怕打破这夜的宁静，“我们家彼此不保守秘密，我现在应当把一切都告诉妈妈和姐姐……这是多么可怕！妈妈倒没什么，妈妈也喜欢您，可是丽达……”
她朝大门跑去。
“再见！”她喊了一声。
之后有两分钟时间我听到她在奔跑。我己不想回家，再说也没有必要急着回去。我犹豫地站了片刻，然后缓步走回去，想再看一眼她居住的那幢可爱、朴素、古老的房子，它那阁楼上的两扇窗子，像眼睛似地望着我，似乎什么都知道了。我走过凉台，在网球场旁边的长椅上坐下。我处在老榆树的荫影中，从那里瞧着房子。只见蜜修斯住的阁楼上，窗子亮了一下，随后漾出柔和的绿光——这是因为灯上罩着罩子。人影摇曳……我的内心充溢着柔情和恬静，我满意自己，满意我还能够有所眷恋，能够爱人。可是转念一想，此刻在离我几步远的这幢房子的某个房间里，住着那个并不爱我、可能还恨我的丽达，我又感到很不痛快。我坐在那里，一直等着任妮亚会不会走出来，我凝神细听，似乎觉得阁楼里有人在说话。
大约过了一个小时，绿色的灯光熄灭了，人影也看不见了。月亮已经高高地挂在房子上空，照耀着沉睡的花园和小路。屋前花坛里的大丽花和玫瑰清晰可见，好像都是一种颜色。天气变得很冷。我走出花园，在路上拣起我的大衣，不慌不忙地回去了。
第二天午后，我又来到沃尔恰尼诺夫家。通往花园的玻璃门敞开着。我坐在凉台上，等着任妮亚会突然从花坛后面走到球场上来，或者从一条林荫道里走出来，或者能听到她从房间里传来的声音。后来我走进客厅和饭厅。那里一个人也没有。我从饭厅里出来，经过一条长长的走廊，来到前厅，然后又返回来。走廊里有好几扇门，从一间房里传来丽达的声音。
“上帝……送给……乌鸦……”她拖长声音大声念道，大概在给学生听写，“上帝送给乌鸦……一小块奶酪……谁在外面？”她听到我的脚步声，突然喊了一声。
"it's me."
“哦！对不起，我现在不能出来见您，我正在教达莎功课。”
“叶卡捷琳娜·巴夫洛夫娜可在花园里？”
“不在，她跟我妹妹今天一早动身去奔萨省我姨妈家了。冬天她们可能到国外去……”她沉吟一下这样补充说。“上帝……送给乌鸦……一小块奶酪……你写完了吗？”
我走进前厅，万念俱灰地站在那里，望着池塘，望着村子，耳边又传来丽达的声音：“一小块奶酪……上帝给乌鸦送来一小块奶酪……”
我离开庄园，走的是头一次来的路，不过方向相反：先从院子进入花园，经过一幢房子，然后是一条极树林荫道……这时一个男孩追上我，交给我一张字条。我展开念道：我把一切都告诉姐姐了，她要求我跟您分手。我无法不服从她而让她伤心。愿上帝赐给您幸福，请原谅我。但愿您能知道我和妈妈怎样伤心落泪。
然后是那条幽暗的云杉林荫道，一道倒塌的栅栏……在田野上，当初黑麦正扬花，鹌鹑声声啼叫，此刻只有母牛和绊腿的马儿在游荡。那些山坡上，东一处西一处露出绿油油的冬麦地。我又回到平常那种冷静的心境，想起在沃尔恰尼诺大家讲的那席话不禁感到羞愧，跟从前一样我又过起枯燥乏味的生活。回到住处，我收拾一下行李，当天晚上就动身回彼得堡去了。
此后我再也没有见到沃尔恰尼诺夫一家人。不久前的一天，我去克里米亚，在火车上遇见了别洛库罗夫。他依旧穿着紧腰长外衣和绣花衬衫。当我问到他的健康状况，他回答说：“托您的福了。”我们交谈起来。他把原先的田庄卖了，用柳博芙·伊凡诺夫娜的名义又买了一处小一点的田庄。关于沃尔恰尼诺夫一家人，他谈得不多。据他说，丽达依旧住在舍尔科夫卡，在小学里教孩子们读书。渐渐地她在自己周围聚集了一群同情她的人，他们结成一个强有力的派别，在最近一次地方自治会的选举中“打垮了”一直把持全县的拉巴金。关于任妮亚，别洛库罗夫只提到，她不在老家住，不知她如今在什么地方。
那幢带阁楼的房子我早已开始淡忘，只偶尔在作画和读书的时候，忽然无缘无故地记起了阁楼窗口那片绿色的灯光，记起了我那天夜里走在田野上的脚步声，当时我沉醉于爱情的欢欣，不慌不忙地走回家去，冷得我不断地搓手。有时——这种时刻更少——当我孤独难耐、心情郁闷的时候，我也会模模糊糊地记起这段往事，而且不知什么缘故，我渐渐地觉得，有人也在想念我，等待我，有朝一日我们会再相逢的……
蜜修斯，你在哪儿？
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