Chapter 5 "Yao Neiqi" II

two Startsev always wanted to go and see the Turkins, but there were so many things going on at the hospital that he couldn't find the time.More than a year was passed in this way in toil and solitude.But one day, a letter in a blue envelope arrived from the city. Vera Iosefovna had long suffered from migraines, and lately Kotik had been threatening her every day about going to the conservatory, and she had had frequent attacks of them.All the doctors in the city were called in, and finally it was his turn, the local doctor.Vera Iosefovna wrote him a touching letter begging him to come and relieve her pain anyway.Startsev went immediately, and thereafter often went to Turkin's house... After his treatment, Vera Iosefovna's condition improved a little, so she said to the guests, Startsev He was a great miracle doctor, but the reason why he often went to Turkin's house later was not to treat her migraine...

Today is a holiday.At last Ekaterina Ivanovna finished playing those long, disturbing etudes.Afterwards they all sat in the dining-room drinking tea and listening to a ridiculous story told by Ivan Petrovitch.When the doorbell rang and someone had to be greeted in the hall, Startsev took advantage of the bustle and whispered to Ekaterina with great emotion: "I beg you, for God's sake, don't torture me, let's go to the garden!" She shrugged, looked puzzled, didn't seem to understand what he wanted her to do, but got up anyway and walked out. "You practice three or four hours a day," he said after her, "and then you sit with mother all the time, and I don't have a chance to talk to you. Just give me a quarter of an hour, I beg you." gone."

It was almost autumn, and the old garden was silent and desolate, and the avenues were covered with withered and yellow leaves.It was getting dark soon. "I haven't seen you for a whole week," Startsev went on. "I wish you knew how painful it is! Sit down and listen to me." The pair have a beloved spot in the garden: a bench under a leafy old maple tree.Then they sat down on this chair. "What do you want?" Ekaterina Ivanovna asked solemnly and coldly. "I haven't seen you for a whole week, and I haven't heard you speak for a long, long time. I want, I want to hear your voice. You talk."

The youthfulness of her, the innocence of her eyes and face, delighted him.Even the dress she was wearing was particularly beautiful in his eyes, and that simple and innocent demeanor was heart-stirring.In spite of her innocence, at the same time he thought she was very intelligent and well-educated, not commensurate with her age.He could talk to her about literature, about art, and whatever, and he could complain to her about life and people, though sometimes in the middle of such serious conversations she would suddenly laugh for no reason, or simply ran back to the house.Like all the girls in C, she read a lot (in general, people in C don't read very much, and people in the local library say that if the girls and young Jews don't come to borrow books, the library will be gone sooner or later.) can be closed).This particularly pleased Startsev.Every time he always asked her excitedly what books she had read recently.When she spoke, he was fascinated.

"What did you read during the week we didn't see each other?" he asked her now. "Please tell me." "I have read Pieszemsky." ① Pisemsky (1821-1881), a Russian writer. "Which one?" "A Thousand Serfs," replied Kotik, "but what a ridiculous name this Pisemsky is, Alexey Feoferaktitch!" "Where are you going?" Startsev asked in surprise, seeing her suddenly get up and go towards the house. "I must have a good talk with you. I'll stay five minutes! I beg you!" She stopped, as if about to say something, then shyly shoved a note into his hand, hurried home, and sat down at her piano again.

"At eleven o'clock tonight," Startsev read, "please go to the cemetery, near Jamich's tombstone." "Oh, that's a stupid idea," he thought, calming down, "what's this got to do with a cemetery? What's she going to do?" It was obvious: Kotik was playing a prank.Who would come up with the idea of ​​meeting someone in a suburban cemetery in the middle of the night, when it's so easy to arrange a date on the street or in a park?Besides, as a doctor appointed by the Zemstvo, he is a decent man with brains, well, now he sighs, accepts appointments, wanders around the cemetery, and does stupid things that even schoolchildren can laugh at.What will be the result of this romance?What would your colleagues say if they found out?That's what Startsev thought as he paced around the club tables.But at half past ten, he made up his mind to go to the cemetery.

By this time he had his own pair of horses and a coachman.The driver's name was Pantelaimon, and he often wore a velvet waistcoat.The moon is melting.It was quiet all around, and the weather was warm, but there was already a hint of coolness in autumn.Dogs bark near a slaughterhouse on the outskirts of town.Startsev left the carriage in an alley on the edge of the town, and went on foot to the cemetery. "Everyone has his own queer temper," he thought, "Kotik is queer too, who knows? Maybe she's not joking, and she's really coming." He sank into this unfounded hope, And hope is always intoxicating.

He walked half a mile in the fields.In the distance, a long black cemetery appeared in front of him, which looked like a forest or a large garden.Gradually, the white wall was exposed, the gate... under the moonlight, the inscription on the gate could be seen clearly: "The time is coming..." ①Startsev walked in through the small gate, and the first thing he saw was the wide avenue on both sides The many white crosses and tombstones, and the countless shadows they and the maple trees cast.Looking into the distance, the surroundings are also black and white, and the silent trees hang their branches and leaves to the white tombstone.It seemed brighter here than in the fields.Numerous claw-like maple leaves lie clearly on the yellow sand of the avenue and on the tombstones, and the inscriptions on the tombstones are also clearly visible.At first, Startsev was taken aback by what he saw. This was the first time he had ever seen such a sight in his life, and he would probably never see it again.This is a world completely different from other places: the moonlight here is so beautiful and soft, as if this is the cradle of moonlight; there is no life here, absolutely nothing, but every dark poplar tree and every tomb is breathtaking. Feel the secrets hidden within that will unlock a life of peace, beauty, and eternity.The white headstones, the withered flowers, and the autumnal scent of the leaves all exude forgiveness, desolation, and peace.

① See "The Bible Gospel of John", Chapter 5, Section 28.The whole sentence is "The hour is coming when all who are in the grave will hear his voice and come out, and those who have done good will be raised to life, and those who have done evil will be raised to be condemned." The surroundings were solemn, the stars in the sky looked down on the land silently, only the sound of Startsev's footsteps seemed so loud and harsh and out of place.Until the church bell rang, he imagined himself to be buried here as a dead person. At this moment, he felt as if someone was mourning him. He suddenly thought that this place is not peaceful, not silent, only nothingness and silent sorrow. and deeply repressed despair.

Jamic's tombstone is shaped like a chapel, with an angel standing on it.Once upon a time, an Italian opera troupe passed by this city. A female singer died and was buried here, and this monument was erected.Now no one in the city remembers her, but the ever-burning lamp above the tomb door burns like fire under the moonlight. There was no one around.Originally, who would come to this place in the middle of the night?But Startsev waited, the moonlight seemed to warm his heart, he waited with enthusiasm, imagining hugs and kisses with the girl he loved.He sat by the tombstone for half an hour, and then lingered on the nearby boulevard for a long time.Cap in hand, he thought as he waited how many women and girls were buried in these tombs, who had been beautiful in life, who had been in love, and had enjoyed the passionate, lingering love of the night.Seriously, how depressing it is to think that Mother Nature can be mean and can play tricks.Though Startsev thought so, he could not help crying out that he needed love, that he expected its joy at any cost.In front of him, those whitish objects were no longer pieces of marble, but many beautiful female bodies.He saw the beautiful woman hiding shyly in the shadow of the tree, and felt a warm current. This ecstatic fantasy turned into unbearable pain...

The moon hid in the clouds, as if the sky had fallen, and the surroundings were suddenly dark.Startsev found the gate with some difficulty—it was already dark, as autumn nights always do—and after an hour and a half of nightly walking in the dark, he found the alley where the carriage was parked. "I'm tired and I can't stand on my feet," he said to Pantelaimon. He sat comfortably in the carriage and thought: "Oh, I shouldn't be fat!"