Chapter 8 "Black Friars" III

three After supper, when the guests were gone, he went back to his room and lay down on a divan: ready to think about the monk.But after a while Tanya came in. "Here, Andryusha, take a look at my father's papers," she said, handing him a stack of pamphlets and proofs. "Excellent paper. He writes fantastically." "Come on, say 'very good'!" said Yegor Semyonitch, coming in after her, with a forced smile.He felt embarrassed. "Please, don't listen to her, don't look at these things! But if you want to sleep, you might as well read it, it's a good sleeping pill."

"In my opinion, these are excellent papers," said Tanya confidently. "Take a look, Andryusha, and persuade Papa to write more. He could write a complete book on gardening." Yegor Semyonitch laughed unnaturally, blushed, and began to say what is customary to embarrassed writers.Finally, he backed down. "If that's the case, then you should read Guoxie's papers and these Russian articles first," he murmured, stretching out his trembling hands and flipping through the pamphlets, "otherwise you won't understand. Looking at me Before I can rebut you, you need to know what I'm refuting. But it's all nonsense, .

Tanya went out.Yegor Semyonitch sat down on the sofa next to Kovrin and sighed deeply. "Yes, boy, . . . he paused for a moment, then said." That's the way it is, my dear master.You see, I write papers, participate in exhibitions, receive medals. ... People say that Pesotsky's apples are as big as a man's head, and that Pesotsky earned his fortune from the orchard.In a word, Kechubieyi is both rich and famous.But I ask you: what is all this for?It is indeed a good garden, a model garden. . . . This is not a garden at all, but an institution of national importance, for this garden is, so to speak, a step towards a new era in Russian agriculture and Russian industry.But what is this for?What is its purpose? "

"The cause will speak for itself." "That's not what I mean. What I want to ask is; what will happen to this garden after I die? The garden you see before you can't last even a month without me. The secret of success is not in the size of the garden. , there are many workers, but because I love this business, do you understand? Maybe much more than I love myself. Look at me, I do everything by myself. I work from morning to night. I graft and cut I planted the branches myself, and I did everything myself. When someone came to help me, I was jealous, angry, and even uttered rude words. The key was love, that is to say, the keen eyes of the master, the The master's two hands lie in the master's feeling: no matter where he is a guest, as long as he sits for an hour, he will feel restless and uncomfortable, for fear that something will happen in the garden. But when I die, who will take care of it? Who will work? The gardener? The workman? Is that so? Let me tell you simply, my dear friend: the number one enemy of our cause is not the rabbit, or the maychafer, or the frost, but the alien outsider."

"And Tanya?" asked Kovrin, smiling. "She can't be more harmful than a rabbit. She loves the cause and understands it." "Yes, she loves it and understands it. It would be very nice if she would run the garden and be the master after I die. But please God, don't let that happen, if she is married. ?” whispered Yegor Semyonitch, looking at Kovrin in horror. "That's the problem! She's married and has children and has no time for the garden. What worries me most is that she's married to a young man who's greedy and rents the garden to a merchant woman. In less than a year, it's all over! Women are always the scourge of God in our business!"

Yegor Semyonitch sighed, and was silent for a while. "Maybe it's egoism, but I'll tell you the truth, I don't want Tanya to marry. I'm worried! Now there's a young master who used to come to us with a violin and play it. I know Tanya is not going to marry him, I know that very well, but I can't bear him when I see him! Anyway, boy, I'm a very strange person. I admit it." Yegor Semyonitch got up and walked up and down the room in agitation.It can be seen that he has very important things to say, but he can't make up his mind. "I like you very much, and I want to talk to you frankly," he said, finally making up his mind, and putting his hands in his pockets. "I always deal with certain delicate matters honestly, and say what I think. I can't bear the so-called secret thoughts. I will say it straight: I can only feel relieved if I marry my daughter to you. You A man of talent and a good heart who will not let my beloved career be ruined for nothing. The main reason is that I love you like a son... and I am proud of you. It would be nice if you and Tanya were like-minded , I shall be glad, even happy. I say these words as honest men do, without pretense."

Kovrin laughed, and Yegor Semyonitch opened the door to go out, but stopped at the door. "If you and Tanya have a son, I'll train him to be a gardener," he said, after a pause. "However, this is all fantasy. . . . Good night." Kovrin was left alone, so he lay down more comfortably and picked up the papers.The title of one paper is "On Intercropping", the other is "A Brief Discussion on Some Gentleman's Opinions on Digging the Land in New Orchards", and the third is "Re-discussion on Bud Grafting of Dormant Young Shoots", and all other papers are also full. is this type of content.And yet, how restless, how nervous, how almost morbidly impulsive, in that tone!For example, there is an article, the title of which is not at all polemical, and the content is extremely plain, about the Russian Antonovka apples.

But Yegor Semyonitch's article begins with that. "Audiaturaltera pars"2, ending: "sapientisat"3, between these two famous quotes interspersed all kinds of vicious words, spouting outrages on those "seemingly learned ignorants, we who from the heights of the lectern Master gardeners who observe nature”, or scolded Mr. Guo Xie, “his fame is caused by laymen and ignorant people”, and then added a blunt and sincere sigh inappropriately, saying that it is a pity that nowadays Farmers who stole fruit and broke branches could no longer be whipped with sticks. "It's a beautiful, lovely, useful business, but even in this business people get angry and quarrel," thought Kovrin. "Perhaps everywhere, in every field, thinking people are characterized by neuroticism and high sensitivity. I'm afraid that must be the case."

He thought of Tanya, who was very fond of Yegor Semyonitch's papers.She was not tall, with a pale face and a thin body, showing her chain bones.Her bright black eyes were wide open, and she was always gazing somewhere, as if looking for something, and her steps, like her father's, were small and hasty.She is very eloquent, likes to argue, and every time she says a word, even unimportant words, she always has a rich expression on her face, and at the same time, she makes lively gestures.Presumably she was a highly neurotic person. Kovrin went on to read the papers, but couldn't understand anything, so he dropped them.

The pleasant excitement which he had just had when he danced the mazurka and listened to the music seized him again and stirred up a multitude of thoughts in his mind.He got up and started walking up and down the room, thinking about the Black Friar.He suddenly thought that if he was the only one who saw this weird and mysterious monk, it meant that he was sick and had developed to the point of having hallucinations.The thought terrified him, but it soon passed. "But really, I'm all right, and I haven't done anything harmful, so my hallucinations aren't any harm," he thought, feeling relieved again.

He sat down on the couch, put his head in his hands, restrained the incomprehensible joy that filled him, walked up and down again, and finally sat down to work.But the ideas he had read in books could no longer satisfy him.He desires a huge, vast, amazing realm.Towards morning, he took off his clothes and managed to lie down on the bed: time to sleep! " When the sound of Yegor Semyonitch's steps approaching the garden was heard, Kovrin rang the bell and ordered the footman to bring wine.He drank a few glasses of Lafayette with relish, then pulled the quilt over his head, his consciousness faded, and he fell asleep. "Notes" ①Pushkin's "Poltava" in the poem. ——Russian text editor's note ② Latin: Please listen to the other party's appeal. ③Latin: There is nothing more to say about this than a wise man. ④A kind of red wine produced in Lafayette, France.