Chapter 12 twelve

A few days later.Zinaïda became more and more eccentric, more and more incredible.Once I went to see her and saw her sitting on a wicker chair with her head pressed against the sharp corner of the table.She stood upright... with tears all over her face. "Ah! It's you!" she said with a grim smile on her face. "Come here, please." I went up to her; she put one hand on my head, and suddenly grabbed my hair and twisted it. "It hurts!" I finally said. "Ah! It hurts! But don't I feel pain? Don't you feel pain?" She kept saying. "Ouch," she exclaimed suddenly, seeing that a little lock of my hair had been torn out by her. "What have I done? Poor monsieur Voljemar." She straightened carefully the torn hair and wound it around the tip of one finger, twisting it into a ring.

"I will hide your hair in my necklace and hang it around my neck," she said, with tears in her eyes. : "Perhaps this will comfort you a little...but goodbye now." I went home and had an unpleasant incident at home.The mother persuaded the father: she was reproaching him for something, but he, as usual, coldly but politely avoided answering, and soon walked away.I couldn't hear what my mother was saying, and I couldn't care less about that; I just remember she sent me to her room when she was finished, and she was so displeased with my frequent visits to the Duchess's that she used The Duchess was unefemmecapabledetout, she said.

I went up to her and kissed her hand (as I always do when I want to end a conversation), and went to my room.Zinaida's tears confuse me completely: I don't know what to do, and I want to cry myself: after all, I am still a child, although I am sixteen years old.I stopped paying attention to Malevsky, though Belovzorov grew more and more violent every day, and looked at the cunning count as a wolf looks at a sheep; Don't want to care about anyone.I have lost my ability to think and always want to find a quiet place.I especially like the disused greenhouse.I used to climb up that high wall and sit down there, like a sad, lonely, sad boy, and feel sorry for myself--this sadness makes me happy, I'm just intoxicated up! ...

Once I was sitting on the wall, looking into the distance, listening to the chimes... and suddenly something passed over me - not a breeze, not a convulsion, like a draft, like a The feeling of someone approaching... I looked down and saw Zinaïda in a light gray dress with a pink parasol open on her shoulder, hurrying along the road below.Seeing me, she stopped, pushed up the brim of her straw hat, and raised her tender eyes to look directly at me. "What are you doing sitting so high up?" she asked me, with a weird smile on her face. "Ah," she went on, "you always try to make me believe that you love me. If you really love me, you'll jump down the road to meet me."

Before Zinaïda could finish her sentence, I jumped down as if flying, as if someone had pushed me from behind.This wall is about two Russian feet high. My feet just hit the ground, but the momentum was so great that I couldn't hold myself: I fell, and for a moment I lost consciousness.When I awoke, I felt Zinaïda standing beside me, and I did not open my eyes. "My dear child," she said, leaning over me, and there was an anxious tenderness in her voice, "how could you do that, how could you be so obedient... you know I I love you...stand up." Her breasts rose and fell beside me, her hands stroked my head, and suddenly—then my luck! —Her soft, bright lips kissed my whole face... Her lips closed on mine... At this moment, although my eyes were not open, Zinaïda probably had me From the look on my face, I guessed that I had woken up.She stood up abruptly.Whispered, "Well, stand up, naughty boy; why are you still lying in the dust?"

I stood up. "Go and get me my umbrella," said Zinaïda, "you see, I have lost it somewhere; don't look at me like that... What a fool: you are not hurt? Probably you Stinged by nettles? I tell you, don't look at me . . . He doesn't understand a thing and answers," she added, as if talking to herself. "Go home, monsieur Volgemar, clean yourself up, and don't follow me, or I'll be angry, and never again..." She hurried away without finishing her sentence.But I sat down on the road... My legs couldn't support me.Nettles sting my hands.Backache, dizziness—but the sense of well-being I was experiencing then was gone for the rest of my life.This feeling of happiness filled me like a sweet pain, and finally this emotion was expressed in ecstatic jumps and cries.Indeed, I am still a child.