Chapter 5 "Anonymous Stories"

Four I remember that one Sunday morning, after I had lived with the Orlovs for about three weeks, someone rang at the door.It was past ten o'clock, and Orlov was still sleeping.I go out and open the door.You can imagine my astonishment at the sight of a veiled woman standing on the landing outside the door. "Has Geordy Ivanitch got up?" she asked. I recognized her from the voice as Zinaida Fyodorovna, and I used to deliver letters to her in Znamin Street.I don't remember whether I had time to answer her words at that time, and I don't remember whether I could make up my mind to reply. In short, her presence made me stunned.Besides, she doesn't need me to answer.In an instant, she slipped past me, and the vestibule was immediately filled with the smell of her perfume, which I still remember vividly.Then she walked into the room, and the footsteps were inaudible.At least, nothing was heard for half an hour after that.But someone rang the bell again.

This time it was a very fashionable girl, presumably the servant girl of a wealthy family, who, panting with our porter, brought in two suitcases and a wicker box. "It's for Zinaida Fyodorovna," said the girl. She left without another word.It was all very mysterious, and put a sly smile on the face of Polya, who was always interested in gentlemen's nonsense.She seemed to want to say, "Look, we've got an accident here!" and she's been walking on tiptoe ever since. At last footsteps sounded.Zinaida Fyodorovna came quickly into the hall, saw me standing in the doorway of my servant's room, and said: "Stepan, go and help Geordy Ivanitch dress."

I went into Orlov's room with my clothes and boots.He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out, his feet touching the bearskin rug.He appeared distraught.He didn't pay attention to me, and he didn't care what my servant thought.Obviously he was restless, he was embarrassed in front of himself, in front of his "mind's eyes".Without saying a word, he dressed slowly, washed his face, then combed his hair and brushed his clothes, as if allowing himself a little time to think about his situation and think about it. Even from his back, he could see that he was flustered, dissatisfied with myself.

The two of them drank coffee together.Zinaida Fyodorovna took the coffee pot and poured coffee for herself and Orlov, then put her elbows on the table and laughed. "I still can't believe it," she said. "A man who travels for a long time comes back to a hotel and finds it hard to believe for a moment that he has no need to go any further. It's nice to take a breather with ease. " She breathed a sigh of relief with the air of a very naughty little girl, and smiled again. "You must forgive me," said Orlov, nodding to the newspaper. "Reading the newspaper while drinking coffee has become a habit I can't get rid of. But I can do two things at the same time: read the newspaper and listen to people at the same time."

"Look, look. . . . Your habits and your freedom are still yours. But why have you stretched your face? Is it always like this in the morning? Or only today? Are you unhappy?" "Quite the opposite. I'm a little surprised, though, to be honest." "Why? You knew for a long time that I would come to you suddenly, and you should be ready. I tell you every day that I am coming." "Yes, but I didn't expect you to fulfill your words just today." "I didn't expect it myself, but it's better. It's better, my friend. Pull out the bad tooth at once, and you're done. "

"Yes, of course." "Oh, my dear!" she said, narrowing her eyes. "Anything that ends well is a good thing. But how much suffering must be endured before the good end comes! Don't see me laughing. I am happy and happy, but I want to cry rather than laugh. Yesterday I Withstood a battle," she continued in French. "Only God knows how miserable I am. But I'm laughing because I can't believe it. I don't think it's real that I'm having coffee with you, but a dream." Then she continued in French how she had broken up with her husband the day before, and looked at Orlov fascinated, now with tears, now with a smile.She said her husband had suspected her for a long time, but refused to tell the truth.They often quarreled, and often at the height of their quarrels, he would suddenly shut up and go back to his study, lest he would express his suspicions in a fit of anger, or she would not speak out publicly.In fact Zinaida Fyodorovna was ashamed, felt small, did not dare to take a bold and serious step, and hated herself and her husband more and more every day, as in hell.During the quarrel yesterday, he cried out in a tearful tone: "When will this situation end, my God?" He went back to the study, but she followed her like a cat chasing a mouse. Go, let him close the door and yell at him: She hates him.When he put her in his study, she simply explained the matter and admitted that she was in love with another person, and that was her real and most legitimate husband; Had to move to his place, even if there was a bombardment on her.

"You have a strong romantic air," interrupted Orlov, without taking his eyes off the paper. She laughed and went on without touching her coffee.Her face was flushed, which made her a little flustered, and she looked at me and Polya with embarrassment.According to her later narration, I know that her husband first blamed her, threatened her, and finally shed tears, which is his answer.To be precise, it was not she who endured a battle, but he. "Yes, my friend, all goes well when my nerves are excited," she said, "but at night I lose my temper. You, George, don't believe in God, but I kind of do." , I am afraid of retribution. God requires us to be patient, magnanimous, and self-sacrificing, but I refuse to be patient and want to arrange my life according to my own wishes. Is this right? What if God thinks it is wrong? At two o'clock in the night, my husband leaves Come into my room and say to me, "I won't let you go.I'm going to ask the police to bring you back, and make a mess of it all over the city. 'After a while, I saw that he was standing at the door again like a shadow. 'You have to take care of me.Your elopement may damage my career. 'These words hit my heart so hard that I felt like my whole body was rusted.I thought to myself that the retribution had already begun, so I trembled with fear and cried bitterly.I feel as if the ceiling is falling down on me, I'm going to be taken to the police station, you're going to stop loving me, in a word, God knows what I'm thinking!I thought to myself, I might as well give up my happiness and go to a convent, or become a nurse somewhere.But at this time, I suddenly remembered that you love me, and I have no right to dispose of myself without telling you.My mind was in a mess, and I became discouraged and hopeless, not knowing what to think or what to do.But as soon as the sun came up, I was happy again.I'll wait until morning, and then I'll get in the car and come to you.Oh, how I suffer, my dear.I haven't slept for two nights! "

She is tired and excited.She wished she could go to bed at the same time, talk incessantly, laugh, cry, and go to a restaurant for breakfast, just to feel free. "Your house is quite comfortable, but I'm afraid it's too small for two people," she said, walking quickly from room to room after drinking her coffee. "Which room will you give me? Look, I have my eye on this one because it's next door to your study. " From then on she called this room her room.After one o'clock she changed in the room adjoining the study, and went out to breakfast with Orlov.They also ate lunch in the restaurant.During the long hours between breakfast and lunch they run the store.I stayed open late into the night for store clerks and delivery men, and received all sorts of purchases from them.Among the things they sent were a fancy looking mirror, a dressing table, a bed, and a luxurious tea set which we didn't need.They also sent a whole set of copper pans, which we displayed on shelves in our bare, cold kitchen.Polya's eyes lit up as we unpacked the tea set.She looked at me two or three times with hatred, lest I should beat her to steal one of these beautiful teacups.They also sent a lady's desk, which was very expensive, but inconvenient to use.Evidently, Zinaida Fyodorovna intended to stay with us permanently, and became mistress of the house.

After nine o'clock, she and Orlov came back.She was very proud of having done something bold and extraordinary.She was full of love and felt loved at the same time.Exhausted, she was counting on a good, sweet sleep, in short, intoxicated by her new life.Her heart was filled with happiness, she clasped her hands tightly, repeated that everything was fine, and swore that she would love him forever. She believes that she too is deeply loved and will always be loved.This vow and this naive, almost childish confidence made her five years younger. She said a lot of lovely nonsense and laughed at herself.

"There is no higher happiness than freedom!" she said, forcing herself to say something serious and meaningful. "Really, when you think about it, how absurd that is! Even if our own opinions have some truth, we feel that they have no value at all. Instead we tremble before the opinions of all kinds of fools. This time, I I was afraid of other people's opinions until the last moment, but when I listened to my own opinion and decided to live my own life, my eyes were opened and I got over my stupid fear. Now, I I am happy, and I hope everyone can enjoy this kind of happiness.”

But her train of thought was broken immediately, and she talked about the new house, about the wallpaper and the carriage, and about the travels to Switzerland and Italy.But Orlov was exhausted from running to restaurants and shops.He is still as restless as I found him this morning.He smiled, but not so much from pleasure as from politeness.Whenever she said something seriously, he always agreed with a sneer: "Well, yes!" "Stepan, hurry up and find a good cook," she said, turning to me. "The kitchen shouldn't be the first thing to do," said Orlov, looking at me coldly. "You should move first." He never used the kitchen and kept no horses because, as he put it, he didn't like "making the house dirty."He allowed me to live with Polya in his house only out of necessity.The so-called family, with all its commonplace joys and quarrels, had become vulgar to his taste.As for pregnancy, having children, and talking about children, that's even more vulgar, petty bourgeois.Now I can't help but have a very strong curiosity to see how these two people get along in the same house. She likes family life and housekeeping. horse.For his part, he used to say to his friends that the home of a decent and clean man should be as free of superfluous things as on a warship: no women, no children, no rags, no kitchen utensils. ... "Notes" ① Georgi's nickname.