Fathers and Sons
you know) I am not given to sentiment, I feel that I should like to
bear away with me the thought that my image still fills your mind with
aversion."
She caught at her breath like a person who has just arrived at the
summit of a lofty mountain. Then her face lightened into a smile, and,
offering Bazarov her hand a second time, she allowed it to respond to
the pressure of his.
"When sorrow is asleep, do not wake it," she said. "And the less so
since my conscience convicts me, if not of coquetry on that occasion,
at all events of something else. One word more. Let us be friends
again. For it was all a dream, was it not? And who remembers dreams?"
"Who indeed? And love--well, love is a mere empirical sentiment."
"I am glad to hear you say so."
Thus Anna Sergievna, and thus Bazarov. And both conceived themselves to
be speaking the truth. But was it the truth?--at all events, the whole
truth? The speakers themselves did not know, and therefore the author
does not. Nevertheless both the man and the woman framed their words to
create an atmosphere of mutual confidence.
Next Anna Sergievna asked Bazarov how he had spent his time at the
Kirsanovs'; and though he came within an ace of telling her of the duel
with Paul Petrovitch, he checked himself in time, and replied that he
had been engaged in work.
"And I," she said, "have been, for some unknown reason, out of humour,
and meditating going abroad; but the fit is passing now (thanks to the
arrival of your friend Arkady Nikolaievitch), and already I find myself
relapsing into my old rut, and resuming my true rôle."
"And what is your true rôle?"
"The rôle of acting as aunt or preceptress or mother--call it what you
like--to my sister. In passing, I wonder if you are aware that once
upon a time I did not altogether understand your close friendship with
Arkady Nikolaievitch? Somehow he seemed too insignificant for you. But
now, I know him better, and have convinced myself that in his head
there is a brain. Above all things, he is young, young--not like you
and myself, Evgenii Vasilitch."
"But he is still shy in your presence?" queried Bazarov.
"He" began Anna Sergievna; then, checking herself, continued: "No; he
is gaining confidence, and has taken to talking to me quite freely;
whereas once upon a time, though I did not seek his company, he used
to flee whenever I came near him. By the way, he is great friends with
Katia."
Somehow this irritated Bazarov.
"Never can a woman forbear dissembling," was his reflection. Aloud he
said with a frigid smile: "Then you say that he used to flee from you?
But surely it cannot be a secret that formerly he cherished for you
_une grande passion?"_
"What? He too?"
"Yes, he too," affirmed Bazarov with a nod. "But I think that you knew
that? It was not a piece of news that I have just told you?"
Her eyes became fixed upon the floor.
"I believe you to be wrong," she observed.
"So do not I. But perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it?" To himself
he added: "And perhaps you will not, in future, play the hypocrite with
me."
"Why should you not have mentioned it?" she queried. "As a matter
of fact, I believe you to be attaching importance to a mere passing
impression, and shall soon think that you have a tendency to
exaggerate."
"Suppose we talk of something else?" he suggested.
"For what reason?"
However, of her own accord she diverted the conversation into another
channel. True, she had assured him, and she herself believed, that
everything was buried in the past; yet she felt ill at ease, and
conscious that, even while jesting or exchanging the merest of
_bagatelles,_ she had weighing upon her a nervous oppression. In fact,
it was akin to the case of passengers afloat. Though such folk will
laugh and talk with the same apparent indifference as on land, let but
the machinery stop, or the least sign of anything unusual appear, and
at once every face will display that peculiar expression of anxiety
which comes only of constant knowledge of ever-present danger.
Of similar sort was Anna Sergievna's interview with Bazarov; nor was
it prolonged, in that soon she began to feel so absent-minded, and to
answer with such vagueness, that she proposed a move to the hall, where
there were found Katia and the Princess.
"And where is Arkady Nikolaievitch?" inquired the hostess; and, on
being told that he had not been seen for over an hour, she sent
messengers to summon him. But this proved a lengthy task, seeing that
he had withdrawn to the remotest corner of the garden, and, sitting
with chin upon hands, was plunged in thought. Those thoughts were
important and profound, but not sad; and though he knew that Anna
Sergievna was alone with Bazarov, he felt none of his old jealousy,
but, rather, gazed before him with quiet cheerfulness--with an air as
though something had pleased and surprised him, and led him to arrive
at a certain decision.
[1] _ Yasen_ is derived from the adjective _yasni_, meaning clear or
bright.
XXVI
Although the late Monsieur Odintsov had disliked "innovations," he
had not been opposed to the indulgence of "a certain play of refined
taste," and had erected, in a space between the hothouses and the lake,
a building modelled in the style of a Greek temple, but consisting
of undeniable Russian bricks. Also, he had caused to be inserted in
the massive rear wall of this temple or gallery six niches for six
statues which were designed to represent Solitude, Silence, Thought,
Melancholy, Modesty, and Sensibility, and which he had purposed to
import from abroad; but only one of these, the statue of the Goddess
of Silence, with a finger to her lips, had actually been delivered and
erected; and even of that the household underlings had knocked off the
nose on the very day of the statue's arrival. True, a neighbouring
sculptor had offered to furnish the goddess with a nose "twice as good
as the last one," but Odintsov had none the less ordered her removal to
a corner of the millhouse, where for several years past she had acted
as a source of superstitious awe to the peasant women of the district.
Likewise, the front wall of the temple had become so overgrown with
bushes that only the capitals of the supporting columns remained
visible above the mass of verdure, and even at midday the interior
of the building was cool and pleasant; and though Anna Sergievna had
never really liked the place since the day when she had discovered an
adder there, Katia paid it frequent visits, and, seating herself on
a great stone bench which was fixed under one of the niches, would
read or work, or surrender herself to the influence of that perfect
restfulness which, known, probably, to every one, comes of a silent,
half-unconscious contemplation of the great waves of life as they
break for ever around and against us.
On the morning after Bazarov's arrival Katia was in her usual position
on the bench, and beside her was Arkady--he having specially asked her
to accompany him thither.
Though an hour was still wanting to luncheon time, the dew and the
freshness of the morning had already given place to the sultriness
and the aridity of noontide. Arkady's face yet bore the expression
of yesterday, but Katia's features were stamped with one, rather, of
depression. This was because after breakfast her sister had called
her into the boudoir, and to some of those blandishments which always
alarmed the girl had added a word of advice that Katia should observe
more caution in her converse with Arkady, and, above all things, avoid
such solitary _tête-à-têtes_ with him as appeared to have aroused
the attention of the household in general, and of the Princess in
particular. Since the previous evening Anna Sergievna had been out
of humour; and inasmuch as Katia's conscience was not wholly clear
of responsibility in the matter, she had intimated, when yielding to
Arkady's request, that it must be for the last time.
"Katia," he began with a sort of easy uneasiness, "since the day when I
had the good fortune to reside under the same roof as yourself I have
talked to you on many different subjects. But one particular question
has for me a paramount importance: nor upon that question have I yet
touched. Yesterday you said that during my stay here I have undergone
a process of reformation"--he neither sought nor avoided Katia's
eye--"and, to be frank, such a reformation has, in part at least, come
about. Better than any one else do you know that this is so--you to
whom, above all others, that remaking is due."
"To me?" she re-echoed.
"Yes, to you," Arkady repeated. "No longer am I the presumptuous lad
who came here a short while ago: not for nothing have I attained my
twenty-third year. And though I still wish to be of use in life, though
I still wish to consecrate the whole of my faculties to the service of
Truth, I no longer seek my ideals where I was wont to do--they appear
to me to stand much nearer home. Hitherto I have been in ignorance of
myself, hitherto I have set myself tasks beyond my powers; but now,
through a certain feeling which is within me, my eyes have become
opened. By the way, the manner in which I express myself may be lacking
in clarity, yet I venture to hope that I have made myself understood?"
Katia said nothing; but she ceased to look at the speaker.
"In my opinion," he went on in a tone of rising emotion, while in
a birch tree overhead a chaffinch started pouring forth a flood of
unstudied song, "in my opinion, it is the duty of an honourable man to
be frank with those who, with those who--in short, with those who stand
nearest to him in life. Consequently I, I am minded to--to---"
Here Arkady's eloquence failed him. He stumbled and stuttered and
had to pause for a moment. Meanwhile Katia's eyes remained lowered.
One would have thought that she did not in the least understand this
preamble, but was expecting to hear something quite of a different
nature.
"That I shall surprise you I know in advance," continued Arkady, once
more spurring his faculties. "And that surprise will be the greater
when I tell you that the feeling to which I have alluded concerns, to a
certain extent--yes, to a certain extent, yourself. For yesterday, you
will remember, you imputed to me a lack of gravity "--he was speaking
much like a man who, having blundered into a bog, feels that at each
step he sinks deeper and deeper, yet struggles on in the hope of
eventually extricating himself--"and such a reproach is all too often
levelled against, all too often falls upon, young people who have
ceased to deserve it. Were I but possessed of more self-confidence"
("God help me! God help me!" he thought despairingly, but Katia did not
even turn her head)--"had I but the right to hope that----"
"Did I but feel sure that you really mean what you say," broke in, at
this moment, the clear accents of Anna Sergievna.
Arkady became dumb, and Katia turned pale; for along a little path
which skirted the bushes screening the temple there were advancing
Bazarov and Madame! Katia and Arkady could not actually see the pair,
yet they could hear every word uttered, and even catch the sound of
their breathing, and the rustle of Anna Sergievna's dress. Advancing a
few more steps, the couple halted, and remained standing in front of
the building.
"It is like this," Anna Sergievna continued. "You and I have blundered
into an error. That is to say, while neither of us is in the heyday of
youth--I so least of the two--and both of us have lived our fives and
are weary, we are also (for I need not stand on ceremony) individuals
of intellect. Consequently, though, at first, we interested one
another, and felt our mutual curiosity aroused, it happened that
subsequently----"