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diff --git a/23056-h/23056-h.htm b/23056-h/23056-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8e0fe84 --- /dev/null +++ b/23056-h/23056-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,903 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Rendezvous, by Ivan Turgenev + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rendezvous, by Ivan Turgenev + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rendezvous + 1907 + +Author: Ivan Turgenev + +Translator: Herman Bernstein + +Release Date: October 17, 2007 [EBook #23056] +Last Updated: October 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RENDEZVOUS *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE RENDEZVOUS + </h1> + <h2> + By Ivan Turgenev + </h2> + <h4> + Translated by Herman Bernstein. <br /> <br /> Copyright, 1907, by P. P. + Collier & Son. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, near the middle of September. It + had been drizzling ever since morning; occasionally the sun shone warmly;—the + weather was changeable. Now the sky was overcast with watery white clouds, + now it suddenly cleared up for an instant, and then the bright, soft + azure, like a beautiful eye, appeared from beyond the dispersed clouds. I + was sitting looking about me and listening. The leaves were slightly + rustling over my head; and by their very rustle one could tell what season + of the year it was. It was not the gay, laughing palpitation of spring; + not a soft whispering, nor the lingering chatter of summer, nor the timid + and cold lisping of late autumn, but a barely audible, drowsy prattle. A + faint breeze was whisking over the tree-tops. The interior of the grove, + moist from the rain, was forever changing, as the sun shone or hid beyond + the clouds; now the grove was all illuminated as if everything in it had + burst into a smile; the trunks of the birch trees suddenly assumed the + soft reflection of white silk; the small leaves which lay scattered on the + ground all at once became variegated and flashed up like red gold; and the + pretty stalks of the tall, branchy ferns, already tinted in their autumn + hue, resembling the color of overripe grapes, appeared here and there + tangling and crossing one another. Now again everything suddenly turned + blue; the bright colors died out instantaneously, the birch trees stood + all white, lustreless, like snow which had not yet been touched by the + coldly playing rays of the winter sun—and stealthily, slyly, a + drizzling rain began to sprinkle and whisper over the forest. The leaves + on the birches were almost all green yet, though they had turned somewhat + pale; only here and there stood a solitary young little birch, all red or + all golden, and one should have seen how brightly these birches flushed in + the sun when its rays suddenly appeared gliding and flashing through the + dense net of the thin branches which had just been washed around by the + sparkling rain. Not a single bird was heard; all had found shelter, and + were silent; only rarely the mocking voice of the bluebird sang out like a + little steel bell. Before stopping in this birch forest I passed with my + dog through a poplar grove. I confess I am not very fond of the poplar + tree with its pale lilac-colored trunk and its grayish-green, metallic + leaves, which it lifts high and spreads in the air like a trembling fan—I + do not like the constant shaking of its round, untidy leaves, which are so + awkwardly attached to long stems. The poplar is pretty only on certain + summer evenings when, rising high amid the low shrubbery, it stands + against the red rays of the setting sun, shining and trembling, bathed + from root to top in uniform yellowish purple—or when, on a clear + windy day, it rocks noisily, lisping against the blue sky, and each leaf + seems as if eager to tear itself away, to fly and hurry off into the + distance. But in general I do not like this tree, and, therefore, not + stopping to rest in the poplar grove, I made my way to the birch forest, + and seated myself under a tree whose branches started near the ground, and + thus could protect me from the rain. Having admired the surrounding view, + I fell asleep—I slept that tranquil, sweet sleep which is familiar + to hunters only. + </p> + <p> + I can not say how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes the entire + interior of the forest was filled with sunshine, and everywhere the bright + blue sky was flashing through the cheerfully droning leaves; the clouds + disappeared, driven asunder by the wind which had begun to play; the + weather was clear now, and one felt in the air that peculiar, dry + freshness which, filling the heart with a certain vigorous sensation, + almost always predicts a quiet, clear night after a rainy day. I was about + to rise and try my luck at hunting again, when my eyes suddenly fell on a + motionless human figure. I gassed at it fixedly; it was a young peasant + girl. She was sitting some twenty feet away from me, her head bowed + pensively and her hands dropped on her knees; in one hand, which was half + open, lay a heavy bunch of field flowers, and every time she breathed the + flowers were softly gliding over her checkered skirt. A clear white shirt, + buttoned at the neck and the wrists, fell in short, soft folds about her + waist; large yellow beads were hanging down from her neck on her bosom in + two rows. She was not at all bad-looking. Her heavy fair hair, of a + beautiful ash color, parted in two neatly combed half-circles from under a + narrow, dark-red head-band, which was pulled down almost to her + ivory-white forehead; the rest of her face was slightly tanned with the + golden sunburn peculiar to a tender skin. I could not see her eyes—she + did not lift them; but I saw her thin, high eyebrows, her long lashes; + these were moist, and on her cheek gleamed a dried-up teardrop, which had + stopped near her somewhat pale lips. Her entire small head was very + charming; even her somewhat thick and round nose did not spoil it. I liked + especially the expression of her face; it was so simple and gentle, so sad + and so full of childish perplexity before her own sadness. She was + apparently waiting for some one. Something cracked faintly in the forest. + Immediately she raised her head and looked around; her eyes flashed + quickly before me in the transparent shade—they were large, bright, + and shy like a deer’s. She listened for a few seconds, not moving her + wide-open eyes from the spot whence the faint sound had come; she heaved a + sigh, turned her head slowly, bent down still lower and began to examine + the flowers. Her eyelids turned red, her lips quivered bitterly and a new + teardrop rolled down from under her heavy eyelashes, stopping and + sparkling on her cheek. Thus quite a long while passed; the poor girl did + hot stir—only occasionally she moved her hands and listened—listened + all the time. Something cracked once more in the forest—she started. + This time the noise did not stop, it was becoming more distinct, it was + nearing—at last firm footsteps were heard. She straightened herself, + and it seemed as if she lost her courage, for her eyes began to quiver. + The figure of a man appeared through the jungle. She looked fixedly, + suddenly flushed, and, smiling joyously and happily, seemed about to rise, + but she immediately cast down her head again, turned pale, confused—only + then she lifted her quivering, almost prayerful, eyes to the man as he + paused beside her. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him from my hiding-place with curiosity. I confess he did not + produce a pleasant impression upon me. He was, by all appearances, a + spoiled valet of some rich young man. His clothes betokened a claim to + taste and smart carelessness. He wore a short top-coat of bronze color, + which evidently belonged to his master, and which was buttoned up to the + very top; he had on a pink necktie with lilac-colored edges; and his black + velvet cap, trimmed with gold stripes, was pulled over his very eyebrows. + The round collar of his white shirt propped his ears up and cut his cheeks + mercilessly, and the starched cuffs covered his hands up to his red, + crooked fingers, which were ornamented with silver and gold rings, set + with forget-me-nots of turquoise. His red, fresh, impudent face belonged + to those countenances which, as far as I have observed, are almost always + repulsive to men, but, unfortunately, are often admired by women. + Apparently trying to give an expression of contempt and of weariness to + his rough features, he was forever closing his small, milky-gray eyes, + knitting his brows, lowering the corners of his lips, yawning forcedly, + and, with careless, although not too clever, ease, now adjusting his + reddish, smartly twisted temple-curls, now fingering the yellow hair which + bristled upon his thick upper lip—in a word, he was making an + insufferable display of himself. He started to do this as soon as he + noticed the young peasant girl who was awaiting him. He advanced to her + slowly, with large strides, then stood for a while, twitched his + shoulders, thrust both hands into the pockets of his coat, and, casting a + quick and indifferent glance at the poor girl, sank down on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he began, continuing to look aside, shaking his foot and yawning. + “Have you waited long?” + </p> + <p> + The girl could not answer him at once. + </p> + <p> + “Long, Victor Alexandrich,” she said at last, in a scarcely audible voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” He removed his cap, majestically passed his hand over his thick, + curly hair whose roots started almost at his eyebrows, and, looking around + with dignity, covered his precious head again cautiously. “And I almost + forgot all about it. Besides, you see, it’s raining.” He yawned again. “I + have a lot of work to do; you can’t look after everything, and he is yet + scolding. We are leaving to-morrow—” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” uttered the girl, and fixed a frightened look upon him. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow—Come, come, come, please,” he replied quickly, vexed, + noticing that she quivered, and bowed her head in silence. “Please, + Akulina, don’t cry. You know I can’t bear it” (and he twitched his flat + nose). “If you don’t stop, I’ll leave you right away. What nonsense—to + whimper!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shan’t, I shan’t,” said Akulina hastily, swallowing the tears + with an effort. “So you’re going away to-morrow?” she added, after a brief + silence. “When will it please God to have me meet you again, Victor + Alexandrich?” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll meet, we’ll meet again. If it isn’t next year, it’ll be later. My + master, it seems, wants to enter the service in St. Petersburg,” he went + on, pronouncing the words carelessly and somewhat indistinctly. “And it + may be that we’ll go abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “You will forget me, Victor Alexandrich,” said Akulina sadly. + </p> + <p> + “No—why should I? I’ll not forget you, only you had rallier be + sensible; don’t make a fool of yourself; obey your father—And I’ll + not forget you—Oh, no; oh, no.” And he stretched himself calmly and + yawned again. + </p> + <p> + “Do not forget me, Victor Alexandrich,” she resumed in a beseeching voice. + “I have loved you so much, it seems—all, it seems, for you—You + tell me to obey father, Victor Alexandrich—How am I to obey my + father—?” + </p> + <p> + “How’s that?” He pronounced these words as if from the stomach, lying on + his back and holding his hands under his head. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Victor Alexandrich—you know it yourself—” + </p> + <p> + She fell silent. Victor fingered his steel watch-chain. + </p> + <p> + “Akulina, you are not a foolish girl,” he said at last, “therefore don’t + talk nonsense. It’s for your own good, do you understand me? Of course, + you are not foolish, you’re not altogether a peasant, so to say, and your + mother wasn’t always a peasant either. Still, you are without education—therefore + you must obey when you are told to.” + </p> + <p> + “But it’s terrible, Victor Alexandrich.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what nonsense, my dear—what is she afraid of! What is that you + have there,” he added, moving close to her, “flowers?” + </p> + <p> + “Flowers,” replied Akulina sadly. “I have picked some field tansies,” she + went on, with some animation. “They’re good for the calves, And here I + have some marigolds—for scrofula. Here, look, what a pretty flower! + I haven’t seen such a pretty flower in all my life. Here are + forget-me-nots, and—and these I have picked for you,” she added, + taking from under the tansies a small bunch of cornflowers, tied around + with a thin blade of grass; “do you want them?” + </p> + <p> + Victor held out his hand lazily, took the flowers, smelt them carelessly, + and began to turn them around in his fingers, looking up with thoughtful + importance. Akulina gazed at him. There was so much tender devotion, + reverent obedience, and love in her pensive eyes. She at once feared him, + and yet she dared not cry, and inwardly she bade him farewell, and admired + him for the last time; and he lay there, stretched out like a sultan, and + endured her admiration with magnanimous patience and condescension. I + confess I was filled with indignation as I looked at his red face, which + betrayed satisfied selfishness through his feigned contempt and + indifference. Akulina was so beautiful at this moment. All her soul opened + before him trustingly and passionately;—it reached out to him, + caressed him, and he—He dropped the cornflowers on the grass, took + out from the side-pocket of his coat a round glass in a bronze frame and + began to force it into his eye; but no matter how hard he tried to hold it + with his knitted brow, his raised cheek, and even with his nose, the glass + dropped out and fell into his hands. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this?” asked Akulina at last, with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “A lorgnette,” he replied importantly. + </p> + <p> + “What is it for?” + </p> + <p> + “To see better.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see it.” + </p> + <p> + Victor frowned, but gave her the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Look out; don’t break it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid, I’ll not break it.” She lifted it timidly to her eye. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t see anything,” she said naively. + </p> + <p> + “Shut your eye,” he retorted in the tone of a dissatisfied teacher. She + closed the eye before which she held the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Not that eye, not that one, you fool! The other one!” exclaimed Victor, + and, not allowing her to correct her mistake, he took the lorgnette away + from her. + </p> + <p> + Akulina blushed, laughed slightly, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “It seems it’s not for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not!” + </p> + <p> + The poor girl maintained silence, and heaved a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Victor Alexandrich, how will I get along without you?” she said + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Victor wiped the lorgnette and put it back into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he said at last. “At first it will really be hard for you.” He + tapped her on the shoulder condescendingly; she quietly took his hand from + her shoulder and kissed it. “Well, yes, yes, you are indeed a good girl,” + he went on, with a self-satisfied smile; “but it can’t be helped! Consider + it yourself! My master and I can’t stay here, can we? Winter is near, and + to pass the winter in the country is simply nasty—you know it + yourself. It’s a different thing in St. Petersburg! There are such wonders + over there that you could not imagine even in your dreams, you silly—What + houses, what streets, and society, education—it’s something + wonderful!—” Akulina listened to him with close attention, slightly + opening her lips like a child. “However,” he added, wriggling on the + ground, “why do I say all this to you? You can’t understand it anyway!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, Victor Alexandrich? I understood, I understood everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Just think of her!” + </p> + <p> + Akulina cast down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You did not speak to me like this before, Victor Alexandrich,” she said, + without lifting her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Before?—Before! Just think of her!—Before!” he remarked, + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + Both grew silent. + </p> + <p> + “However, it’s time for me to go,” said Victor, and leaned on his elbow, + about to rise. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little,” said Akulina in an imploring voice. + </p> + <p> + “What for? I have already said to you, Good-by!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” repeated Akulina. + </p> + <p> + Victor again stretched himself on the ground and began to whistle. Akulina + kept looking at him steadfastly. I could see that she was growing agitated + by degrees—her lips twitched, her pale cheeks were reddening. + </p> + <p> + “Victor Alexandrich,” she said at last in a broken voice, “it’s a sin for + you, it’s a sin, Victor Alexandrich, by God!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s a sin?” he asked, knitting his brows. He raised his head and + turned to her. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a sin, Victor Alexandrich. If you would only say a good word to me + before leaving—if you would only say one word to me, miserable + little orphan that I am:—” + </p> + <p> + “But what shall I say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. You know better than I do, Victor Alexandrich. Here you are + going away—if you would only say one word—What have I done to + deserve this?” + </p> + <p> + “How strange you are! What can I say?” + </p> + <p> + “If only one word—” + </p> + <p> + “There she’s firing away one and the same thing,” he muttered with + vexation, and got up. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry, Victor Alexandrich,” she added hastily, unable to repress + her tears. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not angry—only you are foolish—What do you want? I can’t + marry you! I can’t, can I? Well, then, what do you want? What?” He stared + at her, as if awaiting an answer, and opened his fingers wide. + </p> + <p> + “I want nothing—nothing,” she replied, stammering, not daring to + outstretch her trembling hands to him, “but simply so, at least one word, + at parting—” + </p> + <p> + And the tears began to stream from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are, she’s started crying,” said Victor indifferently, + pulling the cap over his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want anything,” she went on, sobbing and covering her face with + her hands; “but how will I feel now at home, how will I feel? And what + will become of me, what will become of me, wretched one that I am? They’ll + marry the poor little orphan off to a man she does not like. My poor + little head!” + </p> + <p> + “Keep on singing, keep on singing,” muttered Victor in a low voice, + stirring restlessly. + </p> + <p> + “If you only said one word, just one: ‘Akulina—I—‘” + </p> + <p> + Sudden heartrending sobs interrupted her. She fell with her face upon the + grass and cried bitterly, bitterly—All her body shook convulsively, + the back of her neck seemed to rise—The long-suppressed sorrow at + last burst forth in a stream of tears. Victor stood a while near her, then + he shrugged his shoulders, turned around and walked off with large steps. + </p> + <p> + A few moments went by. She grew silent, lifted her head, looked around and + clasped her hands; she was about to run after him, but her feet failed her—she + fell down on her knees. I could not endure it any longer and rushed over + to her; but before she had time to look at me, she suddenly seemed to have + regained her strength—and with a faint cry she rose and disappeared + behind the trees, leaving the scattered flowers on the ground. + </p> + <p> + I stood a while, picked up the bunch of cornflowers, and walked out of the + grove to the field, The sun was low in the pale, clear sky; its rays + seemed to have faded and turned cold; they did not shine now, they spread + in an even, almost watery, light. There was only a half-hour left until + evening, and twilight was setting in. A violent wind was blowing fast + toward me across the yellow, dried-up stubble-field; the small withered + leaves were carried quickly past me across the road; the side of the grove + which stood like a wall by the field trembled and flashed clearly, but not + brightly; everywhere on the reddish grass, on the blades, and the straw, + innumerable autumn cobwebs flashed and trembled. I stopped. I began to + feel sad; it seemed a dismal fear of approaching winter was stealing + through the gay, though fresh, smile of fading nature. High above me, a + cautious raven flew by, heavily and sharply cutting the air with his + wings; then he turned his head, looked at me sidewise, and, croaking + abruptly, disappeared beyond the forest; a large flock of pigeons rushed + past me from a barn, and, suddenly whirling about in a column, they came + down and stationed themselves bustlingly upon the field—a sign of + spring autumn! Somebody rode by beyond the bare hillock, making much noise + with an empty wagon. + </p> + <p> + I returned home, but the image of poor Akulina did not leave my mind for a + long time, and the cornflowers, long withered, are in my possession to + this day. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rendezvous, by Ivan Turgenev + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RENDEZVOUS *** + +***** This file should be named 23056-h.htm or 23056-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/5/23056/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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