CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Cornell Unlversily Library PG 3421.A15H25 1907a Diary Qt .a. sugertluous , manj^^an^^ 1924 027 510 761 Cornell University Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027510761 [5$s?^?Ss5?fEQ^?^ OP ?5?®5E5E5: g»-^^^^^^^^ [XERO)Cl ^^?^EJ^ THE DIARY OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN Ivan S. Turgenieff UNIVERSITY MICROFILMS, INC. A Subsidiary of Xerox Corporation Ann Arbor This "0-P Book" Is an Authorized Reprint of the Original Edition, Produced by Microfilm-Xerography by University Microfilms, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1965 THE DIARY OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN AND OTHER STORIES BY IVAN TURGENIEFF TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1907 Copyrifrht, 1904, by Charles ScRiBNER's Sons CONTENTS TAOr THE DIARY OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN . . 1 THREE PORTRAITS 93 THREE MEETINGS I4T MUMU ^01 THE INN 255 THE DIARY OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN (1850) THE DIARY OF A SUPERFLUOUS MAN Hamlet of Ovetchi-Vody,^ :March 20, 18 . THE doctor has just left me. At lost I have obtained a categorical answer! Dodge as he might, he could not help saying what he thought, at last. Yes, I shall die soon, very soon. The streams are opening, and I shall float away, probably with the last snows .... whither? God knows! To the sea also. Well, all right! If I must die, then 't is better to die in the spring. Eut is it not ridiculous to begin one's diary per- haps a fortnight before one's death? "SVhere 's the harm? And in what way are fourteen days less than fourteen years, fourteen centuries? In the presence of eternity, they say, everything is of no account— yes; but, in that case, eternity also is of no account. I am falling into specu- lation, I think: that is a bad sign — am not I be- ginning to turn cowardT— It will be better if I narrate something. It is raw and windy out of doors,— I am forbidden to go out. But what shall I narrate? A well-bred man does not talk ^ Sheep's- Waters or Springs.— Tuanslatou. 3 THE DIARY OF about his maladies; composing a novel, or some- thing of that sort, is not in my line; reflections about exalted themes are beyond my powers; descriptions of life round about me do not even interest me; and to do nothing is tiresome; to read— is idleness. Eh! I will narrate to myself the story of my own life. A capital idea ! AVhen death is approaching it is proper, and can of- fend no one. I begin. I was born tliirty years ago, the son of a fairly wealthy landed proprietor. My fatlier was a passionate gambler; my motlier was a lady with character .... a very virtuous lady. Only, I have never known a woman whose virtue afforded less satisfaction. She succum])ed under the burden of her merits, and tortured everybody, beginning witli herself. During the \vhole fifty years of her life, she never once rested, never folded her liands; she was eternally Inistling and fussing about, like an ant— and without any re- sult whatever, whicli cannot be said of tlie ant. An implacable worm gnawed her day and night. 0(dy once did I bchohl lier perfectly <|uict,— namely, on the first day after her death, in her coffin. As I gazed at her, it really seemed to me that her face expressed mild surprise; the half- open lips, the sunken cheeks, and the genth^-mo- tionless eyes seemed to breathe forth the words: " How good it is not to stir! " Yes, 't is good, 't is good to part at last from the fatiguing con- 4 A SUPERFLUOUS MAN sciousness of life, from the importunate and un- easy sense of existence! But that is not the point. I grew up badly, and not cheerfully. Both my father and my mother loved me ; but that did not make things any the easier for me. jNIy father liad no power whatever in his own house, and no importance, in his quality of a man given over to a shameful and ruinous vice. lie admitted his fall, and, without having the strength to renounce his favourite passion, he endeavoured, at least, by his constantly affec- tionate and discreet mien, by liis submissive hu- mility, to win the indulgence of his exemplary ■wife. ]\Iy mamma, in fact, bore lier misfortune with that magnificent and ostentatious long-suf- fering of virtue which contains so much of self- satisfied pride. She never reproached my fa- ther for anything, she silently surrendered to liim her last penny, and paid his debts : he lauded her to her face and behind her back, but was not fond of staying at home, and petted nie on the sly, as tliough he were himself afraid of con- taminating me ])y his presence. But his rufHed features exlialed such kindness at tliose times, tlie feverish smirk on liis lips was replaced by such a touching smile, his brown eyes, surrounded by fine wrinkles, beamed with so much love, that I itivoluntarily pressed my cheek to his cheek, moist and warm with tears. I wiped away those tears THE DIARY OF with my handkerchief, and they flowed again, without effort, hlce the water in an overfilled glass. I set to crying myself, and he soothed me, patted my back with his hand, kissed me all over my face with his quivering lips. Even now, more than twenty years after his death, when I recall my poor father, dumb sobs rise in my throat, and my heart beats— beats as liotly and bitterly, it languishes with as much sorrowful compassion, as though it still had a long time to beat and as though there were anything to feel compassion about! ]My mother, on tlie contrary, always treated me in one way, affectionately, but coldly. Such mothers, moral and just, are frequently to be met with in children's books. She loved mc, but I did not love her. Yes! I shunned my virtuous mother, and passionately loved my vicious fatlier. But enough for to-day. I have made a begin- ning, and tliere is no cause for me to feel anxious about the end, wliatever it may be. ]\Iy malady will attend to that. INIarch 21. The weather is wonderful to-day. It is warm and bright; the svm is playing gaily on tlie slush}' snow; everything is glittering, smoking, drip- ping; the sparrows are screaming like mad crea- tures around the dark, sweating liedges; the damp air irritates my chest sweetly but fright- C A SUPERFLUOUS ]MAN fully. The spring, the spring is coming! I am sitting by the window, and looking out across the little river to the fields. O Xature! Nature! I love thee so, but I came forth from thy womb unfitted even for life. Yonder is a male sparrow liopping about with outspread wings; he is screaming— and every sound of his voice, ever}' rufHed featlier on his tiny body breathes forth health and strength. What is to be concluded from that? Xothing. lie is healtliy and has a riglit to scream and ruf- fle up his feathers; but I am ill and must die — that is all. It is not wortli while to say any more about that. And tearful appeals to nature are comically absurd. Let us return to my story. I grew up, as I have already said, badly and not cheerfully. I had no brothers or sisters. I was educated at home. And, indeed, what would my mother have had to occupy her if I had been sent off to boarding-school or to a government institute? That 's what children are for — to keep their parents from being bored. We lived chiefly in the country, and sometimes went to ISIoscow. I had governors and teachers, as is the custom. A cadaverous and tearful German, lliechmarm, has remained particularly memorable to me,— a remarkably melancholy being, crip- pled by fate, who was fruitlessly consumed by an anguished longing for his native land. jNIy man- nurse, Vasily, nicknamed " The Goose," would 7 THE DIARY OF sit, unshaved, in his everlasting old coat of blue frieze, beside the stove in the friglitfully sti- fling atmosphere of the close anteroom, impreg- nated through and through with the sour odour of old kvas, — would sit and play cards witli tlie coachman, Potap, who had just got a new sheep- skin coat, white as snow, and invincible tarred boots, — Mhile Hiechmann would be singing on the other side of the jjartition : "Her/, mcin llerz, warum so traiivif^? "Was bc'kiimmort dicli so sclir? 'S ist ja schon iiii frenKlcii Laiulo — Her/, nieiii Her/, was willst du inehr?'" After my father's death, we definitively re- moved to jNIoscow. I was tlien twelve years of age. ]My father died during the night of a stroke of apoplexy. I shall never forget that niglit. I was sleej)ing soundly, as all children are in the habit of sleeping; but I remember, that even athwart my slumber I thought I lieard a licavy, laboured breathing. Suddenly I felt some one seize me bj^ the shoulder and shake me. 1 open my eyes: in front of me stands my man-nurse. — " What 's the matter? "— " Come along, come along, Alexyei JMikhailitch is dying. ..." I fly out of the bed like a mad creature, and into the bedroom. I look: my father is lying with his head thrown back, all red in the face, and rat- tling in his throat most painfully. The servants, 8 A SUrERFLUOUS ]MAX ivith frightened fiices, throng the doors; in the anteroom some one inquires in a hoarse voice: ' Has tlie doctor been sent for? " In the court- yard, a horse is being led out of tb.e stable, the gate is creaking, a tallow candle is burning in Lhe room on the floor; mamma is there also, over- u'helmed, but without losing either her decorum or the consciousness of her own dignity. I flung myself on my father's breast, embraced him, and stammered out: " Pai)a, papa! "... He lay motioidess and puckered up his eyes in a strange sort of way. 1 looked him in the face — unbear- aljle horror stopped m}' bi-eath; I squeaked with tei-ror, like a rouglily-grasped bird. They dragged me from him and carried me away. Only the night before, as though with a fore- boding of his approaching death, he had caressed me so fervently and .so sadly. They brought a dishevelled and sleepy doctor, with a strong smell of lovage vodka. jNIy father died under his lancet, and on the following day, thoroughly stupefied with grief, I stood with a candle in my hand in front of tl:e tal)le on which lay the corpse, and listened unheeding to the thick-voiced intoning of the chanter, occa- sionally l)roken by the feeble voice of the i)riest ; tears kept streaming do^vn my cheeks, over my lips, and my collar and my cuffs; I was consumed with tears, I stared fixedly at the motionless face of my father, as though I were expecting him to 9 THE DIARY OF do something; and my mother, meanwliile, slowl} made reverences to the floor, slowly raised her self and, as she crossed herself, pressed her fit gers strongly to her brow, her slioulders, and her body. There was not a single thought in my head; I had grown heavy all over, but I felt that something dreadful was taking place witli nu .... It was then that Death looked into nij, face, and made a note of me. We removed our residence to ^Moscow, after the 'e manner in wliich my friends treated me (I also liad frienils) every time I chanced to meet tliem, or even dro2)ped in to see tliem. They seemed to n'l'ow uneas}-; as tliey came to meet me they either smiled in a not entirely natural manner, looked not at my eyes, not at my feet, as some peoi)le do, but chiefly at my cheeks, hastily ejacu- lated: "Ah! how do you do, TchulkaturinI " (Fate had favoured me with tliat name') or. "i\h! so liere 's Tcliulkaturin! "' immediately step])ed aside, went apart, and even remained for some time thereafter motioidess, as though tliey were trying to recall something. I noticed all this, because 1 am not deficient in ])enetration and t!ie gift of ol)servation; on the whole, I am not stupid; decidedly amusing thoughts sometimes come into my head even, not at all oi-dinary thoughts; but, as 1 am a supei-fluous man with ■<. dumbness inside me, I dread to exjjress niv thouglit, tlie more so, as I know bei'oi-ehand that 1 shall express it very badly. It even seems strange to me, sometimes, that people can talk. 1 Derived from trhulok, stocking.— Tuanbi^tou. 17 THE DIARY OF and so simply, so freely. . . . " What a calam- ity! ! " you think. I am bound to say that my tongue pretty often itched, in spite of my dumbness; and I actually did utter words in my youth, but in riper years I succeeded in restraining myself almost every time. I would say to myself in an undertone: " Sec here, now, 't will be better for me to hold my tongue awhile," and I quieted down. "We are all ex- perts at holding our tongues; our women in particular have tliat capacity: one exalted young llussian lady maintains silence so vigorously tllat such a spectacle is capable of producing a slight shiver and cold 2>erspiration even in a nian who has been forewarned. But that is not tlie point, and it is not for me to criticise otlier people. I will proceed to the promised story. Several years ago, thanks to a concurrence of trivial but, for me, very important circumstances, I chanced to pass six months in the county town of O***. This town is built entirely on a de- clivity. It has about eiglit hundred inhabitants, remarkably poor; the wretched little houses are outrageously bad; in tlie main street, under the guise of a pavement, formidable slabs of un- hewn limestone crop out whitely here and tliere. in consequence of wliich, even the peasant-carts drive around it; in the very centre of an astonish- ingly untidy square rises a tiny yellowisli struc- ture with dark holes, and in the holes sit men in 18 A STJPERFLUOUS MAX large caps with visors, and pretend to be en- gaged in trade; there, also, rears itself aloft a remarkably tall, striped pole, and beside the pole, by way of order, at the command of the author- ities, a load of yellow hay is kept, and one gov- ernmental hen stalks about. In a word, in the town of O*** existence is excellent. During tlic .early days of my sojourn in that town 1 nearly went out of my mind with ennui. I must say of myself tliat, altliough I am a su- perfluous man, of course, yet it is not of my own ^vill; I am sickly myself, but I cannot endure anything sickly. ... I would have no objec- tions to happiness, I have even tried to ai^proach it from the right and from tlie left. . . . And, tlierefore, it is not surprising that I can also/ feel bored, like any otlier mortal. I found my- self in the town of O*** on business connected with the (rovernment service. . . . Terentievna is absolutely determined to kill me. Here is a specimen of our conversation: Tcrcnlicvna. 0-okh, dear little father! win- do you keep writing? It is n't healthy for you to Avrite. 7. JBut I 'm bored, Terentievna. She. But do drink some tea and lie down. I. Eut I don't feel sleepy. She. Akh, dear little father! Why do you say that? The I^ord be with you! Lie down now, lie down; it 's better for you. 10 THE DIARY OF I. I shall die anvwav, Tcrciitievna. She. The Lord for])id and have mercy! . . . ^Vcll. now, do you order me to make tea? /. I shall not survive this week, Terentievna. She. li-i, dear little J'atlier! Wliy do you say that? ... So I '11 go and prei)are tlie sam- ovar. Oil, decrepit, yellow, toothless creature! Is it ^ possihle that to you I am not a man! :March 2-1. A hard frost. Ox the very day of my arrival in tlie town of O***, the above-nientioned governmental busi- ness caused me to call on a certain O/hogin, Kirill 3Iatvyeevitch, one of tlie chief olllcials of the county; but I made ac(|uaintance witli liim, or, as the saying is. got intimate witli him, two weeks later. His hou.se was situated on the principal street, and was distinguisJied from all the rest In- its size, its i)ainted roof, and two lions on the gate, belonging to tliat race of lions whicli iK'ar a remarkable likeness to the unsuccessful d(jgs \vliose birthplace is .Moscow. It is ])()ssible \.o ('educe from these lions alone that O/.hogin was •:.n opulent man. ^\nd, in fact, he owned four '".uidrcd souls of serfs; ' lie received at his house ■!;e best society of tlie town of ()***, and bore t'ie reputation of being a lios])itable man. The 1 Meaning raalc serfs. Tlie women and children were not reckoned. —TiiA.vsLiVTo It. 20 A SUPEllFLUOUS 3IA?s chief of police came to him, in a l)roa(l carroty- hiicd drozhky drawn ])y a pair of horses— a re- markably lai'ge man, who seemed to liave been car\'ed out of shop-\vorn material. Other officials visited liiin also: tlie ])ettifo<4-gcr, a yellowish aiid rather malicious creature; the wat^-res- ence, or hear enough of its voice; when you smile and look like a convalescent cliild, and any man of a little experience must see at the first glance, a hundred paces off, what is going on in you. Up to that day, I had not once chanced to be arm in arm witli Li/a. I walked by lier side, treading softly on tlie green grass. A liglit breeze seemed to be flullering around us, between the wliite boles of the birch-trees, now and tben blowing the ribl)on of lier liat in my face. ^Vitb an importunate ga/.e I watcbed lier, urilil, at last, she turned gaily to me, and we smiled at each other. The birds chirped approvingly ()\'erbea(l, the blue sky peered caressingly through the fine foliage. jNIy head reeled with excess of pleasure. I hasten to remark that Liza was nf)t in the least in love with me. She liked me; in general, she was not shy of any one, but I was not fated to disturb her childish tranquillity. She walked arm in arm with mc, as with a brother. She Avas seventeen years old at the time. . . . And yet, that same evening, in my presence, there began in her tliat quiet, inward fermentation, which A SUPERFLUOUS MAN precedes the conversion of a child into a woman. .... I was witness to that charif?e of the whole being, that innocent perplexity, that tremulous pensiveness; I was the first to note that sudden softness of glance, tluit ringing uncertainty of voice — and, oh, stupid fool! oh. superfluous man! for a wliole week I was not asliamed to assume that I, I was tlie cause of that change! This is the way it happened. 'We strolled for quite a long time, until even- ing, and chatted very little. I held nw peace, like all inexperienced lovers, and slie, in all ]5roha- bility, had notliing to say to me; l)ut slie seemed to be meditating about something, and shoolc lier head in a queei sort of way, ])cnsively nibbling at a leaf wliich she liad ])hickfd. Sometimes slie began to stride forward in such a decided way . . . and tlien suddeidy halted, waited for me and gazed about her willi eyebi-ows elevated and an absent-minded smile. On the preceding even- ing, v/e liad read together " The Prisoner of the Caucasus." ' "Witli wliat eagerness had she lis- tened to me, with her face propped on both hands, and her bosom resting against the table! I tried to talk about our reading of tlie evening before; slie ])lus]ied, asked me whether I had given the bull-finch any hemp-seed before we started, be- gan to sing loudly some song, then suddenly ceased. The grove ended on one side in a rather > By M. Y. L(5rmontofr. 29 THE DIARY OF steep and lofty cliff; below flowed a small, mean- dering river, and beyond it, further than the eye could see, stretched endless meadows, now swell- ing slightly like waves, now spreading out like a table-cloth, here and there intersected with ravines. Liza and I were the first to emerge on the edge of the grove; BizmyoiikofF remained behind with the old lady. 'We came out, halted, and both of us involuntarily narrowed nuv eyes: directly opposite us, in the midst of the red-liot mist, tlie sun was setting, huge and crimson. XIalf the sky was aglow and flaming; the red rays beat aslant across the meadows, casting a scarlet reflection even on the sliady side of the ravine, and lay like fiery lead Tipon the river, where it was not hidden under overhanging bushes, and seemed to be reposing in the la]) of the ravine and the grove. AVe stood there drenched in the blazing radiance. It is beyond my power to impart all tlie jiassionate solemnity of that picture. Tliey say that the colour i-ed appeared to one blind man like tlie sound of a trumpet; I do not know to what degree that comj^arison is just; but, actually, there" was something challenging in that flaming gold of the evening air, in the crimson glow of sky and earth. I cried out witli rapture, and immediately turned to Liza. She was gazing straight at the sv.n. I remember, the glare of the sunset was re- flected in her eyes in tiny, flaming spots. She -\ias startled, profoundly moved. She made no A SUPERFLUOUS MAX answer to my exclamation, did not stir for a long time, and hung her head. ... I stretched out my hand to her; she turned away from me, and suddenly burst into tears. I gazed at her with secret, almost joyful surprise. . . . Bizmyonkoff's voice rang out a couple of paces from us. Liza hastily wiped lier eyes, and witli a wavering smile looked at me. Tlie old lady emerged from the grove, leaning on tlie arm of her fair-haired escort; both of tliem, in their turn, admired the view. Tlie old lady aslced Liza some question, and I remember tliat I involuntarily shivered Avhen, in reply, lier daughter's broken voice, like cracked glass, resounded in reply. In the mean- Avhile, the sun had set, the glow was beginning to die out. We retraced our steps. I again gave Liza my arm. It was still light in the grove, and I could clearly discern her features. She "was embarrassed, and did not raise her eyes. The flush which liad spread all over her face did not disappear; she seemed still to be standing in the rays of the setting sun. . . . Iler arm barely touclied mine. For a long time I could not start a conversation, so violently was my heart beating. AVe caught glimpses of the carriage far away, through the trees; the coachman was driving to meet us at a foot-j)ace over the friable sand of the road. " Lizaveta Kirillovna,"— I said at last,— " why did you weep? " " I don't know," — slie answered after a brief .^1 pause, looking at me with her gentle ej'cs, still M-et with tears, — their glance seemed to me to liave undergone a change, — and again fell silent. " I see that you love nature . ..." I Aveiit on. — That was not in the least what I had meant to say, and my tongue Iiardly stam- mered out the last phrase to the end. She shook her head. I could not utter a word more. ... I was waiting for something .... not a con- fession — no, indeed! I was waiting for a confid- ing glance, a question. . . . But Liza stared at the ground and held her peace. I re])eated once more, in an undertone: " ^^'hy f " and received no rc2)ly. She was emharrasscd, almost asliamed, I saw that. A quarter of an hour later, we were all seated in the carriage and driving toward the town. The horses advanced at a brisk trot; we dashed swiftly through the moist, darkening air. I sud- denly began to talk, incessantly addressing my- self now to BizmyonkofF, now to ^ladame Ozho- gin. I did not look at Liza, but I could not avoid perceiving that from the corner of the car- riage her gaze never once rested on me. At home she recovered with a start, but would not read witli me, and soon went oif to hed. The break — that break of which I have spoken— had been ei'- fected in her. She had ceased to ])e a little <>-irl; she was already beginning to expect . . . like myself .... something or other. She did not have to wait long. A SUPERFLUOUS MAX But that night I returned to my lodgings in a state of utter enchantment. The confused something, wliich was not exactly a foreboding, nor yet exactly a suspicion, that had arisen within me vanished: I ascribed the sudden constraint in Liza's behaviour toward me to maidenly mod- esty, to timidity. . . . Had not I read a thou- sand times in many comi)Ositions, that the first ap])earance of love agitates and alarms a young girl? I felt myself very happy, and already begaji to construct various 2)lans in my own mind. . . . If any one liad then wliispered in my ear: " Thou liest, my dear feUow! that 's not in store for thee at all, my lad! thou art doomed to die alone in a miserable little house, to tlie intolerable gi-umbling of an old ])easant-woman, who can liardly wait for thy death, in order that she may sell thy boots for a song. . . ."' Yes, one involuntarily says, with the Russian pliilosopher: " How is one to know what he doess/ not know?"— Until to-morrow. INIarch 25. A white winter day. I HAVE read o\'er what I wrote yesterday, and came near tearing up the whole note-book. It seems to me that my style of narrative is too pro- tracted and too mawkish. However, as my re- maining memories of that period present no- thing cheerful, save tlie joy of that peculiar 33 THE DIARY OF nature which Lermontoff had in view when he said that it is a cheerful and a painful thing to touch the ulcers of ancient wounds, then why should not I ohserve myself? But I must not impose upon kindness. Therefore I will continue without mawkishness. For the space of a whole Aveek, after that stroll outside the town, my position did not improve in the least, although the change in Liza hecame more perceptible every day. iVs I have already stated, I interpreted this change in tlie most fa- vourable i)ossible liglit for myself. . . . The mis- fortune of solitary and timid men— those who are timid through self-love— consists precisely in this — that they, having eyes, and even keeping them staring wide open, see nothing, or see it in a false light, as though through coloured glasses. And tlieir own tlioughts and observa- tions hinder them at every step. In the beginning of our acquaintance Liza had treated me trustingly and frankly, like a child; i^erhaps, even, in her liking for me there was something of simple, childisli affection. . . . But when that strange, almost sudden crisis took place in her, after a sliort perplexity, she felt her- self embarrassed in my presence, she turned away from me involuntarih', and at tlie same time grew sad and pensive. . . . She was expecting .... what? She herself did not know .... but I .... I, as I have already said, rejoiced 34 A SUPERFLUOUS MAN at that crisis. ... As God is my witness, I al- most swooned with rapture, as the saying is. However, I am wiUing to admit that any one else in my place might liave been deceived also. . . . ^Vho is devoid of self-love? It is unnecessnry to say that all tliis became clear to me only after a time, when I was compelled to fold my injured wings, which were not any too strong at best. The misunderstanding whicli arose between Liza and me lasted for a whole week, — and there is nothing surprising about that: it has been my lot to ])e a witness of misunderstandings wliicli have lasted for years and years. And who was it that said that only the true is real? A lie is as tenacious of life as is the truth, if not more so. It is a fact, I remember, that even dur- ing that week I had a pang now and then .... but a lonely man like myself, I will say once more, is as incapable of understanding what is going on within him as he is of comprehending Avhat is going on before his eyes. Yes, and more than tliat: is love a natural feeling? Is it natural to a man to love? Love is a malady; and for a malady the law is not written. Suppose mv heart did contract unpleasantly within me at times; but, then, everything in me was turned upside down. How is a man to know under such circumstances what is right and M'hat is wronc. what is the cause, what is tlie significance of every separate sensation? 3.5 THE DIARY OF But, be that as it may, all these misunderstand- inrrs, forebodings, and hopes w-jrc resolved in the following manner. One day, — it was in the morning, about eleven o'clock, — before I liad contrived to set my foot in ]\Ir. O/hogin's anteroom, an unfamiliar, ring- ing voice resounded in the hall, the door fle^v open, and, accompanied by the master of tlie house, there appeared on tlie threshold a tall, stately man of five-and-twenty, wlio hastily threw on his military cloak, wliich was lying on the bench, took an affectionate leave of Kirill Matvyeevitch, touclied his cap negligently as he passed me — and vanished, clinking liis s])urs. "Who is that?"-I asked O/hogiii. ^ "Trince X***,"-replied the latter, with a troubled face; — "he has been sent from Peters- burg to receive the recruits. But where are those servants?" — he went on with vexation: — "there was no one to put on his cloak." We entered the hall. " Has he been here long? " — I inquired. " Thev sav he came vesterdav eveniii":. T of- fered him a room in my house, but he declined it. However, he seems to be a very nice voun'>- fellow." " Did he stay long witli you? " " About an hour. He asked me to introduce him to Olympitida Xikitichna." " And did you introduce liim? " 30 A SUPERFLUOUS MAX " Certainly." " And did he make acquaintance witli Lizavcta Kirillovna? . . . ." " Yes, lie made her acquaintance, of course." I said nothing for a while. " Has he come to remain long, do you know? " " Yes, I think lie will be obliged to stay here more than a fortnight." And Kirfll JMatvyeevitch ran off to dress. I paced up and do^vn the hall several times. I do not remem])er tliat Prince X***'s arrival pro- duced any special impression on me at the time, except that unpleasant sensation which usually takes possession of us at the appearance of a new face in our domestic circle. Perha])s that feeling was mingled with something in tlie nature of envy of the timid and obscure jNIoscow man for the brilliant officer from Petersburg. — " The Prince,"— I thought,— " is a dandy of the cai:)i- tal; he will look down on us." . . . I had not seen him for more than a minute, but I had managed to note that he was handsome, alert, and easy- mannered. iVfter pacing the hall for a while, I came to a halt, at last, in front of a mirror, pulled from my pocket a tiny comb, imparted to my hair a picturesque disorder and, as sometimes happens, suddenly became engrossed in the contemplation of my own visage. I remember that my attention was concentrated with particular solicitude on 37 THE DIARY OF my nose; tlie rather flabby and undcfiriccl out- line of that feature was aifording nie no special gratification— when, all of a sudden, in the dark depths of the inclined glass, which reflected al- most the entire room, the door opened, and the graceful figure of Liza made its appearance. I do not know why I did not stir and kept the same expression on my face. Liza craned her head forward, gazed attentively at me and, ele- vating her eyebrows, biting her lips, and holding her breath, like a person who is delighted tliat lie has not been seen, cautiously retreated, and softly drew the door to after her. The door creaked faintly. Liza shuddered, and stood stock-still on the spot. ... I did not move. . . . Again she ]ndled at the door-Iiandle, and disappeared. There was no possibility of doubt: the expression of Liza's face at the sight of my person denoted nothing except a desire to beat a successful re- treat, to avoid an unpleasant meeting; the swift gleam of pleasure which I succeeded in detecting in her eyes, when she thought tliat she really had succeeded in escaping unperceived, — all that said but too clearly: that young girl was not in love with me. For a long, long time I could not with- draw my gaze from the motionless, dumb door, which again presented itself as a white spot in the depths of tlie mirror; I tried to smile at my own upright figure— hung my head, returned home, and flung myself on the divan. I felt re- 38 A SUPERFLUOUS ]MAN nmrkably heavy at lieart, so lieavy that I could not weep .... and wliat was tliere to weej) about? . . . . " Can it be? "—1 kept reiterating incessantly, as I lay, like a dead man, on my back, and with my hands folded on my breast: — " Can it be? " . . . . How do you like that " Can it be? " ]March 26. A tliaw. Whkx, on the following day, after long hesi- tation and inward quailing, I entered the famil- iar drawing-room of tiie O'/hogins', I was no longer the same man whom they had known for the space of three weeks. All my former habits, from which I had begun to wean myself under tlie influence of an emotion whicli was new to me, liad suddenly made their appearance again, and taken entire possession of me like the owners re- turning to their house. People like myself are generally guided not so much by positive facts, as by their own im- pressions; I, wlio, no longer ago than the pre- vious evening, had been dreaming of " the rap- tures of mutual love," to-day cherished not the slightest doubt as to my own " unhappiness," and was in utter despair, although I myself was not able to discover any reasonable pretext for my despair. I could not be jealous of Prince X***, and whatever merits he might possess, his mere ar- rival was not suilicient instantly to extirpate 39 THE DIARY OF Liza's inclintiiion for nic. . . . But stay!— did tliat inclination exist? I recalled tlie j)ast. " iVnd the stroll in the forest? " I asked myself. " And the expression of her face in tlie mirror? " — " But," I went on,—" the stroll in the forest, ap- parently. . . . Phew, good heavens! "What an insignificant heing I am! " I exclaimed aloud, at last. This is a S2)ecinien of the lialf-ex])ressed, half-thought ideas which, returning a thousand times, revolved in a monotonous whii'lwind in my head. I repeat. — I returned to the O/hogins' the same mistrustful, suspicious, constrained ])erson that I had hecn from my childhood. . . . I found the whole family in the drawing-room; Bizmyonkoff' was sitting tliei'c also, in one corner. All appeared to he in high sjjirits: Ozhogin, in particular, was fairly heaming, and his first words were to communicate to me that Prince X*** had spent the whole of the jireceding even- ing with them.-" ^Vell," I said to myself, " lunv I understand why you are in sucli good humour." I must confess that the Prince's second call ])uz- zled me. I had not expected that. CJcncrallv speaking, people like me expect everything in the world except that which ought to happen in the ordinary run of things. I sulked and as- sumed the aspect of a wounded, hut magnani- mous man; I wanted to punish Liza for her un- graciousness; from Avhich, moreover, it must be concluded, that, nevertheless, I was not yet in 40 A SUPERFLUOUS MAN litter despair. They say, in some cases Avhen you are really l)elo\-ed, it is even advantageous to torture the adored object; but in my position, it ^vas unutterably stupid. Liza, in the most in- nocent manner, paid no attention whatever to me. Only old ^Madame O'/hogin noticed my solemn taciturnity, and anxiously inquired after my health. Of course I answered her with a bitter smile that " 1 was perfectly well, thank God." O/hogin continued to dilate on the subject of his visitor; but, observing that I answered him reluctantly, he addressed himself chiefly to Biz- myonkoff, wlio was listening to him with great attention, when a footman entered and an- nounced Prince X***. The master of the house instantly sprang to his feet, and rushed forth to welcome him! Liza, on whom I immediately darted an eagle glance, blushed with pleasure, and fidgeted about on her chair. The Prince entered, perfumed, gay, amiable. . . . As I am not composing a novel for the in- dulgent reader, but simply writing for my own pleasure, there is no necessity for my having re- course to the customary devices of the literary gentlemen. So I will say at once, without fur- ther procrastination, that Liza, from the very first day, fell passionately in love with the Prince, and the Prince fell in love with her— partly for the lack of ami;hing to do, but also partly because Liza really was a very charming creature. There 41 THE UIxVRY OF was notliing remarkable in tlie fact tliat they fell in love with each other. He. in all probability, had not in the least ex])ectcd to lind such a pearl in such a wretched shell (I am s])eakinitated. " jNlr. Shtukaturin"! .... INIy name is Tchulkaturin. ... I could find no reply to make to this last insult of liis, and only stared after him in a violent rage. — " Farewell until to-morrow," I wliispered, setting my teeth, and immediately Gl THE DIARY OF hunted up an officer of my acquaintance, Captain KoloberdyaefF of the uhlans, a desperate ca- rouser and a splendid fellow, narrated to' him in a few words my quarrel with the Prince, and asked him to be my second. He, of course, im- mediately consented, and I wended my way homeward. I could not get to sleep all night— from agi- tation, not from pusillanimity. I am no cow- ard. I even thouglit very little indeed about the impending possibility of losing my life, that high- est good on earth, according to the (Germans. I thought of Liza only, of my dead hopes, of what I ought to do. " Ought I to try to kill the Prince? " I asked myself, and, of course, wanted to kill him, — not out of vengeance, ])ut out of a desire for Liza's good. " But she will not sur- vive that blow," I went on. " Xo, it will be better to let him kill me! " I confess that it was also pleasant to me to think that L an obscure man from the countrv, had forced so important a personage to light a duel with me. Dawn found me engrossed in these cogita- tions; and later in the morning, Koloberdyaeff presented himself. " Well," — he asked me, noisily entering inv bedroom, — " and where 's the Prince's second? " " Wliy, good gracious! " — I replied with vexa- tion,-" it "s only seven o'clock in the morn- 62 A SUPERFLUOUS MAX ing now; I presume the Prince is still fast asleep." " In that case,"— returned the irrepressible cavalry -captain,— " order them to give me some tea. 1 have a headache from last night's doings. .... I have n't even been undressed. How- ever,"— he added with a yawn,—" I rarely do undress anyway." Tea was served to him. He drank six glasses with rum, smoked four pipes, told me that on the ])receding day lie had bought for a song a horse wliich the coachmen had given up as a bad job, and intended to l)reak it in by tying up one of its forelegs, — and fell asleep, without undress- ing, on the couch, with his pipe still in his mouth. I rose, and put my pajjers in order. One note of invitation from Liza, the only note I had re- ceived from her, I was on the point of putting in my breast, but changed my mind, and tossed it into a box. Kolobcrdyaeff" was snoring faintly, witli his licad hanging down from the leather cushions. ... I remember that I surveyed for a long time his dishevelled, dashing, care-free and kindly face. iVt ten o'clock my servant an- nounced the arrival of BizmyonkofF. The Prince had selected him for his second. Together we roused the soundly-sleeping cap- tain. He rose, stared at us with eyes owlishly stupid from sleep, and in a hoarse voice asked for vodka;— he recovered himself, and after hav- G3 THE DIAR^' OF ing exchanged salutes with Bizmyonkoff, went out with him into the next room for consultation. The conference of the seconds did not last long. A quarter of an hour later they both came to mc in my bedroom: Koloberdyaeff announced to me tliat " we shall fight to-day, at three o'clock, witli pistols." I silently bowed my head, in token of assent. Bizmyonkoff immechately took leave of us, and drove away. ITe was somewliat ])ale and inwardly agitated, like a man wlio is not accus- tomed to that sort of performaiu'c, but was very polite and cold. I seemed, somehow, to feel ashamed in his presence, and I did not dare to look him in the eye. KoloberdviiefF began to talk about his horse again. This conversation was very much to my taste. I was afi-aid he might mention Liza. But my good captain Avas no scandal-monger, and, more than that, he des])ised all women, calling them, God knows why, " salad." iVt two o'clock we hmched, and at three were already on the field of action — in that same birch-grove where I had once strolled with Liza, a cou])le of paces from that chff. We were the first to arrive. But the Prince and Bizmyonkoff did not make us wait long for them. The Prince was, without exaggeration, as fresh as a rose; his brown eyes gazed out witli extreme affability from beneath the visor of hU military cap. He was smoking a straw ci";'r. A SUPERFLUOUS MA^ and on catchino; sifflit of Koloberdvaeff he shook liands with him in a cordial manner. He even ])owcd very charmingly to me. I, on tlie con- trary, felt conscious tliat I was pale, and my hands, to my intense vexation, were trembling slightly; . . . my throat was dry. . . Never, up to that time, had I fought a duel. " O God! " I thought; "if only that sneering gentleman does not take my agitation for timidity! " I in- wardlv consigned mv nerves to all the fiends : but on glancing, at last, straiglit at the Prince's face, and catching on his lips an almost imper- ceptible smile, I suddenly became inflated with wrath, and immediately recovered my equanim- ity. In the meantime, our seconds had arranged the barrier, had paced off the distance, and loaded the pistols. Kolobei-dyaeff did most of the active part; BizmyonkofF chiefly watched him. It was a magnificent day — quite equal to tlie day of tlie never-to-be-forgotten stroll. The dense a/AU'C of the sky again peeped through \hc gilded green of the leaves. Their rustling seemed to excite me. The Prince continued to smoke his cigar, as lie leaned his shoulder against tlie trunk of a linden. . . . " I3e so good as to take your places, gentlemen ; all is ready,"— said IvoloberdyaefF at last, hand- ing us the pistols. The Prince retreated a few paces, halted, and Go THE DIARY OF turning his head back over his shoulder, asked me: " And do you still refuse to withdraw your words? "... I tried to answer him; but my voice failed me, and I contented myself with a dis- dainful motion of the hand. The Prince laughed again, and took his place. Wc began to approach each other. I raised my pistol, and was on the point of taking aim at the breast of my enemy,— at that moment he really was my enemy, — but suddenly elevated the barrel, as tliougb some one had jogged my elbow, and fired. The Prince staggered, raised his left liand to his left temple — a thin stream of ])lood trickled do^vn his cheek from beneath his white wash-leather glove. Biz- myonlvofF flew to liim. " It is nothing,"— lie said, taking off his cap, which had been perforated:—" if it did not enter my head, that means it is only a scratcli." He calmly pulled a batiste liandkercliief from his pocket, and laid it on his curls, which were wet with blood. I looked at him as tliougli petrified, and did not stir from the spot. " Please go to tlie barrier! "—remarked Kolo- berdyileff to me with severity. I obeyed. " Shall the duel go on? "—he added, address- ing Bizmyonkoff. Bizmyonkoff' made him no reply; but the Prince, without removing the handkei-cliief from the wound, nor even giving himself the satis- G6 A SUPERFLUOUS MAN faction of teasing me at the barrier, replied with a smile: " Tlic duel is ended," and fired into the air. I nearly wept '.vith vexation and rage. That man, by his magnanimity, had definitively tram- ])led me in tlie mud, had cut my throat. I wanted to protest, I wanted to demand that he should fire at me; but he stepped up to me, and offering me his liand, " Kvei-ytliing is forgotten between us. is it not? "—he said, in a cordial voice. I cast a glance at his pale face, at that blood- stained hand]