Chapter 6 "Anonymous Stories" 5

Fives Now I want to talk about what happened this Thursday.On this day Orlov and Zinaida Fyodorovna were having lunch at the Hotel Contin or the Donon.After dinner, Orlov was the only one who came home.I learned later that Zinaida Fyodorovna had gone to the house of one of her former governesses in the suburbs of Petersburg, in order to spend the time we had visitors with her.Orlov did not want his friends to see her.I learned this over coffee in the morning when he kept telling her that she couldn't come to Thursday's party for her peace of mind. As usual, the guests arrived almost at the same time.

"Is the mistress at home?" Kukushkin asked me in a low voice. "Not at home, sir," I answered. He walked in, with a sly, lewd look in his eyes, and he smiled mysteriously, rubbing his cold hands together. "Congratulations," he said to Orlov, laughing obsequiously and trembling all over. "May you have many children and grandchildren, multiplying as fast as the Lebanese cedar." The guests went into the bedroom, where they spotted a pair of lady's slippers, a rug between the beds, and a gray blouse hanging from the bed frame, and laughed a little.They were beaming with joy, because this stubborn man usually looked down on all the ordinary clichés in love, but now he suddenly fell into the snare of women in such a simple and ordinary way.

"Laughing is all about laughing, and when it's time to be submissive, you have to be submissive," Kukushikin repeated several times.Incidentally, he had a nasty habit of ostentatiously teaching Slavic. "Be gentle!" When they came out of the dormitory and walked to the room next to the study, he raised a finger to his lips and whispered pleasantly. "Hush! Margaret misses Faust here!" He laughed, as if he had said something very funny.I looked at Gruzin coldly, thinking that his musical soul would not be able to bear this kind of laughter, but I was wrong.His thin, kindly face beamed with joy.When they sat down to play cards, he said, breathlessly laughing, that all that Jorge needed now was to add a cherrywood pipe pole and a banjo to perfect his family's happiness. .Pikarsky smiled solemnly, but it was evident from his absorbed face that he felt Orlov's new love affair was not a good one.He didn't understand what was going on.

"And what about her husband?" he asked blankly after three rounds of poker. "I don't know," Orlov replied. Pikarsky ran his fingers through his beard, and remained silent until supper.When they sat down to supper, he drew out each word slowly and said, "Anyway, I'm sorry, I don't understand you two. You can love each other as you like, and you can break the seventh commandment. I can understand it. Yes, I can understand it. But why should her husband know your secret? Is it necessary?" "But, if you know it or not, it's not the same?"

"Well..." said Pikarski thoughtfully, "then I'll tell you, my dear friend," he went on, obviously thinking nervously, "that if I continue in the future and you want to cuckold me , then you must do it so that I don't see it. It's far better to deceive a man than to destroy the order of his life and his integrity. I understand. You two think it's a very honest and liberal act to live together openly, but I can't agree with this...how should I put it?...romanticism." Orlov did not answer a word.He was in a bad mood and didn't want to talk.Still puzzled, Pikarski tapped his finger on the table, thought for a while, and said, "I still don't understand you two. You're not a student, and she's not a seamstress. Both of you are wealthy people. I Think you can give her another home if you can."

"No, it can't be done. Read Turgenev." "Why should I read him? I've already read it." "Turgenev teaches us in his writings that any girl of good moral integrity should follow the man she loves to the ends of the earth to work for his ideas," said Orlov, sarcastically Squint your eyes. "The ends of the earth, this is licentia poetica, the so-called ends of the earth are actually in the house of the man she loves. Therefore, not living in the same house as the woman who loves you is tantamount to denying her the fulfillment of her noble mission, Disapproves of her ideals. Yes, man, it doesn't matter if Turgenev writes like that, now I'm going to suffer."

"I don't see what Turgenev has to do with it," said Gruzin softly, shrugging his shoulders. "You, Jorge, still remember in "Three Encounters" that one day, the man was walking somewhere in Italy very late, and suddenly heard: Vienipensando a me segretamente!⑤" Gruzin sang. "so good!" "But she didn't insist on moving to you," Pikarski said. "It's what you want it to be." "Oh, how could it be! Not only have I never hoped for it, I can't even imagine that it will happen one day. When she told me she was going to move to my place, I thought she was just kidding. "

Everyone laughed. "I would never have wished for such a thing," continued Orlov, sounding as if he were being forced to defend himself. "I am not the hero described by Turgenev⑥. If one day I need to liberate Bulgaria, I will not take a woman to accompany me. When it comes to love, I first regard it as my humble, my own. The need of the flesh against the spirit. This need of the flesh must be carefully satisfied, or not satisfied at all; otherwise it will bring into your life something as filthy as itself. To make this Needing to be a pleasure and not a pain, I always try to beautify it, to adorn it with many illusions. If I am not sure beforehand that the woman is attractive, I will not go to her. If I am not in the mood, I will not go to her. Don’t go to her. Only under such conditions can we deceive each other, we can feel that we are loved, and we can be happy. Then why would I want to buy some copper pot, see uncombed hair, in the How can I be seen when I have not washed my face and when I am in a bad mood? Zinaida Fyodorovna is simple-hearted and wants me to like things that I have avoided all my life. She wants my house to smell of kitchens and dishcloths. She's going to move to a new lodging with a lot of noise and go for a drive in her own carriage. She's going to look after my underwear and worry about my health. She's going to meddle in my private life every minute and watch where I go. Every step of the way, while assuring me sincerely that I still retained my habits and my liberties. She made up her mind that we should go out at once as young newlyweds did, that is to say, whether on the train Whether in the private room or in the hotel, she will always watch over me and never leave. But I like to read books on the road, and I can't stand talking."

"Then you can explain it to her," Pikarski said. "How can that be done? Do you think she will understand what I mean? How can I? Her thinking is too far from hers! In her opinion, it is noble and brave to leave her parents or husband and go to the man she loves." The pinnacle of the spirit, but in my opinion, this is childish. Falling in love with a man and living with him is the beginning of a new life for her, but in my opinion, it means nothing. Love and men are her life In this respect, perhaps subconscious philosophy is at work in her mind. You can't convince her that love, like food and clothes, is nothing more than a simple need. Peace and destruction. A womanizer and a philanderer may at the same time be a genius and a noble man. On the other hand, a man who renounces the pleasures of love may at the same time be a stupid and vicious brute. Contemporary civilized man, even The lower classes, for example, the French workmen, always spend ten sous a day on their meals, five sous on their wine, five to ten sous on their women, and give their wits away. Her energy and energy are devoted to her work. But Zinaida Fyodorovna gave not a few sous to her love, but her whole soul. Of course I can explain this clearly, but her answer will be different. It was a sincere cry that I had ruined her, that there was nothing left in her life."

"Then you don't have to say anything," said Pikarski, "just find her a separate residence. That's all." "It's easy to say. . . . " Everyone was silent for a while. "But she's cute," Kukushkin said. "She's beautiful. A woman like that who always thinks she'll love forever and give herself passionately." "But one has to have a head on one's shoulders," said Orlov, "one has to think with one's head. All our experience from everyday life and from the countless novels and plays that have been immortalized is unanimously affirmed that in the upper classes Among people, fornication and cohabitation, no matter what the initial love is, it can't last for more than two years, at most three years. She should know this. Therefore, it's moving, it's pot, I hope to love each other forever , intimacy, all this is nothing more than she is fooling herself and me. She is lovely and coquettish, who can deny that? But she disrupts the order of my life, she forces me to make my former What had always been considered trivial was raised to the level of a serious matter. I worshiped an idol, but I never thought of it as a god. She was cute and charming, but for some reason now I come home from get off work with the No, as if I expected some inconvenience at home, such as the furnace builders tearing down the furnace and making a mountain of bricks. In a word, the price I pay for love is not a sou, but my Part of the peace and calm. It sucks."

"It's a pity she didn't hear the scoundrel!" sighed Kukushkin. "Sir," he said in a play, "let me relieve you of the heavy duty of loving this beauty! I will take Zinaida Fyodorovna from you!" "You take it away yourself," said Orlov nonchalantly. Kukushkin laughed in a shrill voice for half a minute, trembling all over, and then said: "Be careful, I'm not joking! Afterwards you must never play Othello!" Everyone talked about Kukushikin's inexhaustible energy in love, how women were attracted to him, how dangerous he was to husbands, how lustful he was, and how he would later go to another place. The world will be roasted by the devil on fire. He narrowed his eyes and didn't say a word. Whenever people talked about the wife he knew, he stretched out his little finger to warn—don't expose other people's secrets.Orlov suddenly looked at his pocket watch. The guests understood and got up to say goodbye.I still remember that Gruzin was a little drunk this time, and lazily put on his jacket for a long time. His jacket was like a long coat made for children in a poor family.He turned up his collar and began to talk at length about something, then seeing that he was not being listened to, he threw his nursery-smelling checkered overcoat over his shoulders and demanded I'm going to find his hat. "Jorge, my angel!" he said softly. "Good friend, listen to me, let's go outside the city now!" "You go! I can't. I'm in the position of a married man now." "She's a wonderful woman, she won't be offended. Let's go together, my good lord! The weather is fine, snowy, cold. . Well, God knows what's going on with you..." Orlov stretched, yawned, and looked at Pikarsky. "Are you going?" he asked hesitantly. "I don't know. Just go." "Will I get drunk, huh? Well, well, I'll just go," Orlov hesitated and decided. "Wait a minute, I'll go get the money." He went into the study, and Gruzin lolled after him, dragging the plaid overcoat behind him.A minute later, the two of them came back into the hall.Drunk and contented, Gruzin held a ten-rouble note in his hand. "We'll settle the score tomorrow," he said. "And she's kind, she won't be angry. . . . She's my Lizotchka's godmother, and I like her, poor thing. Oh, good fellow!" he said, laughing suddenly, and resting his forehead on the Pikarski's back. "Well, Pikarsky, my dear, although you are a barrister and ruthless, you must still like women. . . . " "You must add that he likes fat women," said Orlov. Put on a parka. "However, let's go, otherwise, we might meet her at the door." "Vieni pensando a me segretamente!" Gruzin sang. Finally, they left.Orlov did not spend the night at home, and did not return until nearly lunchtime the next day. "Notes" ① There are two restaurants in Petersburg, Kantan and Donon are the names of the hotel owners. ——Russian text editor's note ②The heroine in "Faust" written by German writer Goethe (1749-1832). ③Refers to one of the Ten Commandments recorded in the "Old Testament Exodus", which prohibits adultery. ④Latin: The exception of poetry, here means "the poet's high profile". ⑤Italian: You are secretly thinking about me, come to me! ⑥ refers to the hero Insarov in Turgenev's novel "Eve". ⑦The name of the old French currency, a sou is equal to one-twentieth of a franc. ⑧ refers to the amusement park.