It was already quite dark when the others returned from their walk.Their clear, merry voices rang out through the soft dusk that veiledthe garden. Lida ran, flushed and laughing, to her mother. She broughtwith her cool scents from the river that blended delightfully with thefragrance of her own sweet youth and beauty which the companionship ofsympathetic admirers heightened and enhanced.
"Supper, mamma, let's have supper!" she cried playfully dragging hermother along. "Meanwhile Victor Sergejevitsch is going to singsomething to us."
Maria Ivanovna, as she went out to get supper ready, thought to herselfthat Fate could surely have nothing but happiness in store for sobeautiful and charming a girl as her darling Lida.
Sarudine and Tanaroff went to the piano in the drawing-room, while Lidareclined lazily in the rocking-chair on the veranda. Novikoff, mute,walked up and down on the creaking boards of the veranda floor,furtively glancing at Lida's face, at her firm, full bosom, at herlittle feet shod in yellow shoes, and her dainty ankles. But she tookno heed of him nor of his glances, so enthralled was she by the mightand magic of a first passion. She shut her eyes, and smiled at herthoughts.
In Novikoff's soul there was the old strife; he loved Lida, yet hecould not be sure of her feelings towards himself. At times she lovedhim, so he thought; and again, there were times when she did not. If hethought 'yes,' how easy and pleasant it seemed for this young, pure,supple body to surrender itself to him. If he thought 'no,' such anidea was foul and detestable; he was angry at his own lust, deeminghimself vile, and unworthy of Lida.
At last be determined to be guided by chance.
"If I step on the last board with my right foot, then I've got topropose; and if with the left, then--"
He dared not even think of what would happen in that case.
He trod on the last board with his left foot. It threw him into a coldsweat; but he instantly reassured himself.
"Pshaw! What nonsense! I'm like some old woman! Now then; one, two,three--at three I'll go straight up to her, and speak. Yes, but what amI going to say? No matter! Here goes! One, two, three! No, three timesover! One, two, three! One, two--"
His brain seemed on fire, his mouth grew parched, his heart beat soviolently that his knees shook.
"Don't stamp like that!" exclaimed Lida, opening her eyes. "One can'thear anything."
Only then was Novikoff aware that Sarudine was singing.
The young officer had chosen that old romance,
I loved you once! Can you forget? Love in my heart is burning yet.
He did not sing badly, but after the style of untrained singers whoseek to give expression by exaggerated tone-colour. Novikoff foundnothing to please him in such a performance.
"What is that? One of his own compositions?" asked he, with unusualbitterness.
"No! Don't disturb us, please, but sit down!" said Lida, sharply. "Andif you don't like music, go and look at the moon!"
Just then the moon, large, round and red, was rising above the blacktree-tops. Its soft evasive light touched the stone steps, and Lida'sdress, and her pensive, smiling face. In the garden the shadows hadgrown deeper; they were now sombre and profound as those of the forest.
Novikoff sighed, and then blurted out.
"I prefer you to the moon," thinking to himself, "that's an idioticremark!"
Lida burst out laughing.
"What a lumpish compliment!" she exclaimed.
"I don't know how to pay compliments," was Novikoff's sullen rejoinder.
"Very well, then, sit still and listen," said Lida, shrugging hershoulders, pettishly.
But you no longer care, I know, Why should I grieve you with my woe?
The tones of the piano rang out with silvery clearness through thegreen, humid garden. The moonlight became more and more intense and theshadows harder. Crossing the grass, Sanine sat down under a linden-treeand was about to light a cigarette. Then he suddenly stopped andremained motionless, as if spell-bound by the evening calm that thesounds of the piano and of this youthfully sentimental voice in no waydisturbed, but rather served to make more complete.
"Lidia Petrovna!" cried Novikoff hurriedly, as if this particularmoment must never be lost. "Well?" asked Lida mechanically, as shelooked at the garden and the moon above it and the dark boughs thatstood out sharply against its silver disc.
"I have long waited--that is--I have been anxious to say something toyou," Novikoff stammered out.
Sanine turned his head round to listen.
"What about?" asked Lida, absently.
Sarudine had finished his song and after a pause began to sing again.He thought that he had a voice of extraordinary beauty, and he muchliked to hear it.
Novikoff felt himself growing red, and then pale. It was as if he weregoing to faint.
"I--look here--Lidia Petrovna--will you be my wife?"
As he stammered out these words he felt all the while that he ought tohave said something very different and that his own emotions shouldhave been different also. Before he had got the words out he wascertain that the answer would be "no"; and at the same time he had animpression that something utterly silly and ridiculous was about tooccur.
Lida asked mechanically, "Whose wife?" Then suddenly, she blusheddeeply, and rose, as if intending to speak. But she said nothing andturned aside in confusion. The moonlight fell full on her features.
"I--love you!" stammered Novikoff.
For him, the moon no longer shone; the evening air seemed stifling, theearth, he thought, would open beneath his feet.
"I don't know how to make speeches--but--no matter, I love you verymuch!"
("Why, very much?" he thought to himself, "as if I were alluding toice-cream.")
Lida played nervously with a little leaf that had fluttered down intoher hands. What she had just heard embarrassed her, being bothunexpected and futile; besides, it created a novel feeling ofdisagreeable restraint between herself and Novikoff whom from herchildhood she had always looked upon as a relative, and whom she liked.
"I really don't know what to say! I had never thought about it."
Novikoff felt a dull pain at his heart, as if it would stop beating.Very pale, he rose and seized his cap.
"Good-bye," he said, not hearing the sound of his own voice. Hisquivering lips were twisted into a meaningless smile.
"Are you going? Good-bye!" said Lida, laughing nervously and profferingher hand.
Novikoff grasped it hastily, and without putting on his cap strode outacross the grass, into the garden. In the shade he stood still andgripped his head with both hands.
"My God! I am doomed to such luck as this! Shoot myself? No, that's allnonsense! Shoot myself, eh?" Wild, incoherent thoughts flashed throughhis brain. He felt that he was the most wretched and humiliated andridiculous of mortals.
Sanine at first wished to call out to him, but checking the impulse, hemerely smiled. To him it was grotesque that Novikoff should tear hishair and almost weep because a woman whose body he desired would notsurrender herself to him. At the same time he was rather glad that hispretty sister did not care for Novikoff.
For some moments Lida remained motionless in the same place, andSanine's curious gaze was riveted on her white silhouette in themoonlight. Sarudine now came from the lighted drawing-room on to theveranda. Sanine distinctly heard the faint jingling of his-spurs. Inthe drawing-room Tanaroff was playing an old-fashioned, mournful waltzwhose languorous cadences floated on the air. Approaching Lida,Sarudine gently and deftly placed his arm round her waist. Sanine couldperceive that both figures became merged into one that swayed in themisty light.
"Why so pensive?" murmured Sarudine, with shining eyes, as his lipstouched Lida's dainty little ear, Lida was at once joyful and afraid.Now, as on all occasions when Sarudine embraced her, she felt a strangethrill. She knew that in intelligence and culture he was her inferior,and that she could never be dominated by him; yet at the same time shewas aware of something delightful and alarming in letting herself betouched by this strong, comely young man. She seemed to be gazing downinto a mysterious, unfathomable abyss, and thinking, "I could hurlmyself in, if I chose."
"We shall be seen," she murmured half audibly.
Though not encouraging his embrace, she yet did not shrink from it;such passive surrender excited him the more.
"One word, just one!" whispered Sarudine, as he crushed her closer tohim, his veins throbbing with desire; "will you come?"
Lida trembled. It was not the first time that he had asked her thisquestion, and each time she had felt strange tremors that deprived herof her will.
"Why?" she asked, in a low voice as she gazed dreamily at the moon.
"Why? That I may have you near me, and see you, and talk to you. Oh!like this, it's torture! Yes, Lida, you're torturing me! Now, will youcome?"
So saying, he strained her to him, passionately. His touch as that ofglowing iron, sent a thrill through her limbs; it seemed as if she wereenveloped in a mist, languorous, dreamy, oppressive. Her lithe, suppleframe grew rigid and then swayed towards him, trembling with pleasureand yet with fear. Around her all things had undergone a curious,sudden change. The moon was a moon no longer; it seemed close, close tothe trellis-work of the veranda, as if it hung just above the luminouslawn. The garden was not the one that she knew, but another garden,sombre, mysterious, that, suddenly approaching, closed round her. Herbrain reeled. She drew back, and with strange languor, freed herselffrom Sarudine's embrace.
"Yes," she murmured with difficulty. Her lips were white and parched.
With faltering steps she re-entered the house, conscious of somethingterrible yet alluring that inevitably drew her to the brink of anabyss.
"Nonsense!" she reflected. "It's not that at all. I am only joking. Itjust interests me, and it amuses me, too."
Thus did she seek to persuade herself, as she stood facing the darkenedmirror in her room, wherein she only saw herself en silhouetteagainst the glass door of the brightly lighted dining-room. Slowly sheraised both arms above her head, and lazily stretched herself, watchingmeanwhile the sensuous movements of her supple body.
Left to himself, Sarudine stood erect and shook his shapely limbs. Hiseyes were half closed, and, as he smiled, his teeth shone beneath hisfair moustache. He was accustomed to have luck, and on this occasion heforesaw even greater enjoyment in the near future. He imagined Lida inall her voluptuous beauty at the very moment of surrender. The passionof such a picture caused him physical pain.
At first, when he paid court to her, and after that, when she hadallowed him to embrace her and kiss her, Lida had always made him feelsomewhat afraid. While he caressed her, there was something strange,unintelligible in her dark eyes, as though she secretly despised himShe seemed to him so clever, so absolutely unlike other women to whomhe had always felt himself obviously superior, and so proud, that for akiss he looked to receive a box on the ear. The thought of possessingher was almost disquieting. At times he believed that she was justplaying with him and his position appeared simply foolish and absurd.But to-day, after this promise, uttered hesitatingly, in falteringtones such as he had heard other women use, he felt suddenly certain ofhis power and that victory was near. He knew that things would be justas he had desired them to be. And to this sense of voluptuousexpectancy was added a touch of spite: this proud, pure, cultured girlshould surrender to him, as all the others had surrendered; he woulduse her at his pleasure, as he had used the rest. Scenes libidinous anddebasing rose up before him. Lida nude, with hair dishevelled andinscrutable eyes, became the central figure in a turbulent orgy ofcruelty and lust. Suddenly he distinctly saw her lying on the ground;he heard the swish of the whip; he observed a blood-red stripe on thesoft, nude, submissive body. His temples throbbed, he staggeredbackwards, sparks danced before his eyes. The thought of it all becamephysically intolerable. His hand shook as he lit a cigarette; again hisstrong limbs twitched convulsively, and he went indoors. Sanine who hadheard nothing yet who had seen and comprehended all, followed him,roused almost to a feeling of jealousy.
"Brutes like that are always lucky," he thought to himself, "What thedevil does it all mean? Lida and he?"
At supper, Maria Ivanovna seemed in a bad temper. Tanaroff as usualsaid nothing. He thought what a fine thing it would be if he wereSarudine, and had such a sweetheart as Lida to love him. He would haveloved her in quite a different way, though. Sarudine did not know howto appreciate his good fortune. Lida was pale and silent, looking at noone. Sarudine was gay, and on the alert, like a wild beast that scentsits prey. Sanine yawned as usual, ate, drank a good deal of brandy andapparently seemed longing to go to sleep. But when supper was over, hedeclared his intention of walking home with Sarudine. It was nearmidnight, and the moon shone high overhead. Almost in silence the twowalked towards the officer's quarters. All the way Sanine kept lookingfurtively at Sarudine, wondering if he should, or should not, strikehim in the face.
"Hm! Yes!" he suddenly began, as they got close to the house, "thereare all sorts of blackguards in this world!"
"What do you mean by that?" asked Sarudine, raising his eyebrows.
"That is so; speaking generally. Blackguards are the most fascinatingpeople."
"You don't say so?" exclaimed Sarudine, smiling.
"Of course they are. There's nothing so boring in all the world as yourso-called honest man. What is an honest man? With the programme ofhonesty and virtue everybody has long been familiar; and so it containsnothing that is new. Such antiquated rubbish robs a man of allindividuality, and his life is lived within the narrow, tedious limitsof virtue. Thou shalt not steal, nor lie, nor cheat, nor commitadultery. The funny thing is, that all that is born is one! Everybodysteals, and lies, and cheats and commits adultery as much as he can."
"Not everybody," protested Sarudine loftily.
"Yes, yes; everybody! You have only got to examine a man's life inorder to get at his sins. Treachery, for instance. Thus, afterrendering to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, when we go quietly tobed, or sit down to table, we commit acts of treachery."
"What's that you say?" cried Sarudine, half angrily.
"Of course we do. We pay taxes; we serve our time in the army, yes; butthat means that we harm millions by warfare and injustice, both ofwhich we abhor. We go calmly to our beds, when we should hasten torescue those who in that very moment are perishing for us and for ourideas. We eat more than we actually want, and leave others to starve,when, as virtuous folk, our whole lives should be devoted to theirwelfare. So it goes on. It's plain enough. Now a blackguard, a real,genuine blackguard is quite another matter. To begin with he is aperfectly sincere, natural fellow."
"Natural?"
"Of course he is. He does only what a man naturally does. He seessomething that does not belong to him, something that he likes--and, hetakes it. He sees a pretty woman who won't give herself to him, so hemanages to get her, either by force or by craft. And that is perfectlynatural, the desire and the instinct for self-gratification being oneof the few traits that distinguish a man from a beast. The more animalan animal is, the less it understands of enjoyment, the less able it isto procure this. It only cares to satisfy its needs. We are all agreedthat man was not created in order to suffer, and that suffering is notthe ideal of human endeavour."
"Quite so," said Sarudine.
"Very well, then, enjoyment is the aim of human life. Paradise is thesynonym for absolute enjoyment, and we all of us, more or less, dreamof an earthly paradise. This legend of paradise is by no means anabsurdity, but a symbol, a dream."
"Yes," continued Sanine, after a pause, "Nature never meant men to beabstinent, and the sincerest men are those who do not conceal theirdesires, that is to say, those who socially count as blackguards,fellows such as--you, for instance."
Sarudine started back in amazement.
"Yes, you," continued Sanine, affecting not to notice this, "You're thebest fellow in the world, or, at any rate, you think you are. Come now,tell me, have you ever met a better?"
"Yes, lots of them," replied Sarudine, with some hesitation. He had notthe least idea what Sanine meant, nor if he ought to appear amused orannoyed.
"Well, name them, please," said Sanine.
Sarudine shrugged his shoulders, doubtfully.
"There, you see!" exclaimed Sanine gaily. "You yourself are the best ofgood fellows, and so am I; yet we both of us would not object tostealing, or telling lies or committing adultery--least of all tocommitting adultery."
"How original!" muttered Sarudine, as he again shrugged his shoulders.
"Do you think so?" asked the other, with a slight shade of annoyance inhis tone. "Well, I don't! Yes, blackguards, as I said, are the mostsincere and interesting people imaginable, for they have no conceptionof the bounds of human baseness. I always feel particularly pleased toshake hands with a blackguard."
He immediately grasped Sarudine's hand and shook it vigorously as helooked him full in the face. Then he frowned, and muttered curtly,"Good-bye, good-night," and left him.
For a few moments Sarudine stood perfectly still and watched himdepart. He did not know how to take such speeches as these of Sanine;he became at once bewildered and uneasy. Then he thought of Lida, andsmiled. Sanine was her brother, and what he had said was really rightafter all. He began to feel a sort of brotherly attachment for him.
"An amusing fellow, by Gad!" he thought, complacently, as if Sanine ina way belonged to him, also. Then he opened the gate, and went acrossthe moonlit courtyard to his quarters.
On reaching home, Sanine undressed and got into bed, where he tried toread "Thus spake Zarathustra" which he had found among Lida's books.But the first few pages were enough to irritate him. Such inflatedimagery left him unmoved. He spat, flung the volume aside, and soonfell fast asleep.