Chapter 13 Thirteen

I was so happy and so proud that day, and I still felt Zinaida's kiss so strongly on my face.I convulse with ecstasy at the thought of every word of hers, and I cherish my unexpected happiness so much that I feel frightened and do not even want to see her—the woman who rekindled my love. .It seemed to me that I could ask nothing more from fate, that I should now "take my last breath well and die." But when I went to the annex the next day, I felt very embarrassed, and I tried in vain to put this away. This embarrassment was concealed in a pretense of suave, natural demeanor, which is what a man needs to let others know that he is a good keeper of secrets.Zinaïda received me very naturally, without agitation, she merely shook her finger to frighten me, and asked me: Are there any bruises on my body?My gestures—

The air of ease and secrecy—all of it disappeared at once, and my embarrassment disappeared with it.It is true that I had no particular expectations, but Zinaïda's self-possession seemed to throw cold water on me: I realized now that I was only a child in her eyes, and how sad I was!Zinaida walked up and down the room, and every time she glanced at me a quick smile flitted across her face; but I could see clearly that her thoughts were flying in the distance... "I want Don't mention what happened yesterday," I thought in my heart, "ask her where she went in such a hurry, so I can find out..." But I just waved my hand and sat down in a corner.

Bylovzorov came in; I was glad to see him. "I haven't found you a tame horse yet," he said solemnly. "Freittag promised to find me one, but I'm not sure, I'm afraid." "Excuse me, what are you afraid of?" asked Zinaïda. "What are you afraid of? You know you can't ride a horse. Don't let anything happen! Why did you suddenly come up with such a strange idea!" "Oh, it's none of your business, my Mr. Beast. In that case, I'll go to Peter Vasilyevich... (Peter Vasilyevich is my father's name. I find it strange that , she mentions his name so easily and casually, as if she believed he would be at her service).

"So it is," said Belovzorov. "You want to go riding with him?" "To go with him or with others—it's none of your business. Just not with you." "Not with me," Belovzorov repeated. "As you like. Well, I'll find you a horse." "But mind you, I don't want a cow. I tell you beforehand, I'm going to race." "You're going to the races, all right. Who are you going with, are you going with Malevsky?" "Why can't you go with him, samurai? Well, don't worry," she added, "don't blink your eyes. I'll take you too. You know, now that Malevsky is telling me—pooh !” She shook her head.

"You say that to comfort me," Belovzorov grumbled. Zinaida narrowed her eyes slightly. "Does that comfort you? Oh... oh... oh... warrior!" she said at last, as if she couldn't find anything else to say. "But you, Monsieur Volgemar, would you like to go riding with us?" "I don't like . . . being with everyone . . . " I muttered without looking up. "You'd rather te#te-a-te#te...well, each will go his own way," she whispered, with a sigh. "Go, Belovzorov, and find a way. I need a horse tomorrow. " "Hey, but where's the money?" the Duchess intervened.

Zinaida frowned. "I won't ask you for money, Belovzorov will trust me." "I will believe it, I will believe it..." the princess complained, and suddenly she cried out at the top of her voice: "Dunyaska!" "Maman, I gave you a little bell," said the princess. "Dunyaska!" cried the old woman again. Bylovzorov left; I went out with him... Zinaida did not keep me.