Chapter 7 seven

At eight o'clock I put on my frock-coat, brushed my hair up on my forehead, and went into the antechamber of the little annex where the Duchess lived.The old servant gave me a sullen glance.Reluctantly stood up from the bench.There was a burst of laughter in the living room.I pushed the door open and took a few steps back in surprise.The princess was standing on a chair in the middle of the room, holding a man's hat in front of her face; five men were clustered around the chair.They all tried to get their hands into the hats.But she lifted the hat up and shook it vigorously.Seeing me, she cried out:

"Wait a minute, wait a moment! There is a new guest, you should give him a piece of paper too," she jumped off the chair lightly, and grabbed the cuffs of my frock coat . "Come on," she said, "why are you standing there? Let me introduce you, Messieurs: this is Monsieur Voljemar, the young master of our neighbour.And this," she added, turning to me, pointing to the guests in turn, "—Count Malevsky, Dr. Lushin, poet Maidanov, retired captain Neilmatsky , Hussar Belovzorov, you have already seen him.Please take care of me. " I was so embarrassed that I didn't even bow to anyone, I recognized Dr. Lushin as the swarthy, black-haired gentleman who had embarrassed me in the garden; I didn't know the rest.

"Count!" continued Zinaïda, "please write a piece of paper to Monsieur Voldjemar. " "It's not fair," protested the Count, with a slight Polish accent, a well-dressed, dark-haired handsome man with expressive dark brown eyes, a long, fair nose, and a small There is a neatly trimmed mustache on his mouth. "He hasn't played Fantawild with us yet." "It's not fair," said Belovzorov and another gentleman, a retired captain, a man of about forty, with a pockmarked face and black curly hair, Slightly stooped, bow-legged, in an unbuttoned military uniform without epaulettes.

"Please write a slip of paper, I am talking to you," repeated the princess. "Why object? It was the first time that monsieur Voljemar played the game with us, and today he doesn't have to follow the rules.No need to whine, just write, I demand it. " The Count shrugged his shoulders, but bowed his head obediently, picked up the pen in his white hand wearing several jeweled rings, tore off a small piece of paper, and wrote on it. "At least let us explain to Mr. Voldemar what's going on," Lushin began sneeringly, "otherwise he'll be completely flustered... You know, young man, we're playing square." It's a special game; the princess is punished, and whoever draws a happy paper has the right to kiss her hand. I told you, do you understand?"

I only glanced at him, and still stood there bewildered; but the princess jumped into the chair again, and shook her hat again.Everyone leaned toward her, and I followed them. "Maydanov," said the princess to a tall young man with a thin face, small blind eyes, and strangely long black hair, "you are a poet, you should Be magnanimous and give your slip of paper to mon #sieur Voldjemal so he can get two chances." But Maidanov refused, shaking his head and throwing his hair up. I reached into the hat after everyone else, took a piece of paper, and opened it up... God, I was overjoyed when I saw the word "Kiss" written on it.

"Kiss!" I couldn't help shouting. "Well! He's won the lottery," went on the princess. "How happy I am!" She sprang from her chair and gave me a ravishing glance with twinkling eyes that made my heart pound. "Are you happy?" she asked me. "Me?..." I muttered. "Sell me your slip of paper," Bylovzorov said abruptly, leaning into my ear. "I'll give you a hundred rubles." I gave the hussar an angry look, and Zinaida applauded, while Lushin exclaimed: Well done! "But," he went on, "I am the master of ceremonies, and I should make everyone observe all the rules.

Get down on one knee, Monsieur Voljemar!is our rule. " Zinaïda stood before me with her head down, slightly inclined to one side, as if to get a better view of me, and solemnly held out her hand.My eyes were clouded and blurred; I wanted to kneel on one leg, but both kneeled down together—and my lips kissed Zinaïda's finger awkwardly, so unnaturally that I was surprised. Her fingernails scratched the tip of her nose lightly. "Yes!" cried Lushin, helping me to my feet. The Fantawild game continues.Zinaïda made me sit beside her.She can think of any punishment method!By the way, once she was asked to play a "statue," and she chose the ugly Neilmatsky as her pedestal, and she made him prostrate himself on the ground, and pressed his face to his breast.The laughter didn't stop for a moment.I was brought up in a well-behaved aristocratic family, a solitary, strictly educated boy, and this loud, informal, almost frenzied joy, this unprecedented intercourse with strangers, violently hit my head.I was as intoxicated as if I had been drunk.I laughed and babbled louder than the others, and the old princess, who was sitting in the next room, came out to see me, where she was discussing a case with a petty official from the Iversky Gate. thing.But I feel so happy that I don't even care about anyone's ridicule or eye-rolling, as the saying goes.Zinaïda still favored me and would not let me leave her.In one punishment, I was given the opportunity to sit next to her, with the same silk kerchief over their heads: I was supposed to tell her my secret.I remember our heads were suddenly enveloped in a sultry, translucent, fragrant dusk, in which her eyes shone kindly and softly, her parted lips steamed, her teeth bared. When she came out, the tip of her hair tickled me, making me feel hot all over.I am silent.She smiled mysteriously and slyly, and at last she whispered to me, "How's it going?" But I just blushed, laughed, and turned my face away, and I could hardly breathe.We got tired of playing Fantawild, so we played a kind of rope game.God!How happy I was to receive a sharp blow on my finger as I stared, and then I tried to look dumbfounded, but she teased me and stopped touching me. The hands in front of her!

We also played other games that night!We also played the piano, sang, danced, and played a bunch of gypsy bums—make Neil Matsky dress up as a bear and make him drink salt water.Count Malevsky performed various card tricks for us, and at the end he performed whist, shuffling the cards and distributing all the trump cards to himself, for which Lushin "had the honor to present He congratulates."Maidanov read to us fragments of his long poem (which took place during the heyday of Romanticism) which he intended to publish with a black cover and a red title; The little bureaucrat who came here had a Cossack dance to redeem the hat on his knee; we made old Wanifati wear a woman's cap, and the princess a man's hat.... It's all too much. lift.Only Bylovzorov shrank more and more into a corner, his brows were furrowed, his face was angry... Sometimes his eyes were bloodshot, his face was flushed, as if he was about to rush at us all, We threw them about as splinters; but the princess looked at him from time to time, and pointed her finger at him threateningly, so he hid himself in his corner again.

We finally ran out of bullshit.Although the Duchess was, as she said, very playful, and was not afraid of any shouting, she was also very tired and wanted to rest.Supper was served just after eleven o'clock at night; a stale cheese, some cold buns stuffed with chopped ham, which I thought were more delicious than any puff pastry; only one bottle of wine, What a strange bottle of wine it was: a dark jar with a rose-coloured contents, but no one drank it.I came out of the lodge exhausted and joyless; Zinaïda held my hand firmly when we parted, and smiled inexplicably. I felt a dull and damp night's breath rushing towards my hot face; it seemed that a heavy thunderstorm was coming; changing.The breeze trembled uncomfortably in the dark woods, and the rumbling thunder seemed to be muttering angrily to itself somewhere in the distant sky.

I sneaked back to my room by the back steps.My old servant was sleeping on the floor, and I had to step over him; he woke up, and when he saw me, he said that my mother was very angry with me again, and was going to send him to me again, but my father stopped her.I never went to bed without saying good night to my mother, and letting her wish me well.But now there is no other way! I told the old servant that I would undress myself and go to bed, and I blew out the candle... but I did not undress, nor did I go to bed. I sat down on a chair and sat there for a long time as if by magic... My sensations were so new and so sweet, I sat, looked around a little, didn't move, breathed steadily, It's just that sometimes when I think of something, I just smile silently; sometimes when I think that I have fallen in love, and the one I love is her, this is love, I can't help but feel cold.Zinaida's face floated quietly before my eyes in the darkness—it floated, and it would not move when it floated; there was still that inexplicable smile on her lips, her eyes were slightly squinting and tenderly Looking at me, her eyes seem to be asking questions, thinking... It's the same as the moment I parted from her.

Finally, I stood up, tiptoed to my bed, and carefully, without taking off my clothes, I laid my head on the pillow, as if afraid that the violent movement would disturb all that filled my heart... I lay down without even closing my eyes.I soon noticed that faint reflections of light kept coming in from my room... I leaned back a little and glanced at the window, the window frame and the mysterious and vaguely whitish glass could be clearly distinguished . "Thunderstorm," I thought; it seemed to have already fallen, but it was so far away that I could not hear any thunder; it was just that there were still some not-so-bright, long, twig-like flashes in the sky lightning: not so much that they flash, but that they quiver and twitch like the wings of a dying bird.I jumped out of bed, went to the window, and stood there till dawn... The lightning did not stop for a moment; it was a night of sparrows as the folks call it.I looked out over the silent sand, the dark, vast Neskucciny Park, and the somewhat yellowish walls of the house facades in the distance, which seemed to be there in every faint gleam. Trembling... I watched and watched, unable to move away; these silent lightnings, these faint flashes of lightning, seemed to echo the silent, secret passion that was surging in my heart.The morning light is faint; the morning glow appears like bright red scales, the sun is rising, and the lightning appears to be getting weaker and shorter: The intervals between their tremblings grew longer and longer, and at last they disappeared, drowned in the sunlight of the day that must come to awaken all things. The lightning in my heart also disappeared, I was extremely tired, but my mind was peaceful... But the image of Zinaïda still hovered in my mind triumphantly.But the image itself seems very peaceful and peaceful, like a swan flying out of the marsh grass, eminently out of its ugly surroundings.As I was about to fall asleep, I said goodbye to it for the last time, and fell before it with adoration of full confidence... O tender feeling, gentle voice, goodness and peace of a passionate heart, that intoxicating joy of first love--where are you?Where are you?