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diff --git a/39427-h/39427-h.htm b/39427-h/39427-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c81b35 --- /dev/null +++ b/39427-h/39427-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3012 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Annouchka, by Ivan Sergheïevitch Turgenef. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Annouchka, by Ivan Sergheievitch Turgenef + +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: Annouchka + A Tale + +Author: Ivan Sergheievitch Turgenef + +Translator: Franklin P. Abbott + +Release Date: April 11, 2012 [EBook #39427] +Last updated: April 22, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNOUCHKA *** + + + + +Produced by sp1nd, Mebyon, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h1>ANNOUCHKA</h1> + +<h3>A Tale</h3> + +<h2>BY IVAN SERGHEÏEVITCH TURGENEF</h2> + +<h3><i>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF THE AUTHOR'S OWN TRANSLATION</i></h3> + +<h2>BY FRANKLIN ABBOTT</h2> + +<p class="center">BOSTON<br /> +CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY<br /> +1884</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Copyright</i>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By Franklin P. Abbott</span>,<br /> +1884.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>All Rights Reserved.</i></p> + +<p class="center">C. J. PETERS AND SON,<br /> +ELECTROTYPERS AND STEREOTYPERS,<br /> +145 <span class="smcap">High Street</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ANNOUCHKA.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I.</h2> + +<p>I was then five-and-twenty,—that was a sufficient indication that I had +a past, said he, beginning. My own master for some little time, I +resolved to travel,—not to complete my education, as they said at the +time, but to see the world. I was young, light-hearted, in good health, +free from every care, with a well-filled purse; I gave no thought to the +future; I indulged every whim,—in fact, I lived like a flower that +expands in the sun. The idea that man is but a plant, and that its +flower can only live a short time, had not yet occurred to me. "Youth," +says a Russian proverb, "lives upon gilded gingerbread, which it +ingenuously takes for bread; then one day even bread fails." But of what +use are these digressions?</p> + +<p>I travelled from place to place, with no definite plan, stopping where +it suited me, moving at once when I felt the need of seeing new +faces,—nothing more.</p> + +<p>The men alone interested me; I abhorred remarkable monuments, celebrated +collections, and <i>ciceroni</i>; the <i>Galerie Verte</i> of Dresden almost drove +me mad. As to nature, it gave me some very keen impressions, but I did +not care the least in the world for what is commonly called its +beauties,—mountains, rocks, waterfalls, which strike me with +astonishment; I did not care to have nature impose itself upon my +admiration or trouble my mind. In return, I could not live without my +fellow-creatures; their talk, their laughter, their movements, were for +me objects of prime necessity. I felt superlatively well in the midst of +a crowd; I followed gayly the surging of men, shouting when they +shouted, and observing them attentively whilst they abandoned themselves +to enthusiasm. Yes, the study of men was, indeed, my delight; and yet is +study the word? I contemplated them, enjoying it with an intense +curiosity.</p> + +<p>But again I digress.</p> + +<p>So, then, about five-and-twenty years ago I was living in the small town +of Z., upon the banks of the Rhine. I sought isolation: a young widow, +whose acquaintance I made at a watering-place, had just inflicted upon +me a cruel blow. Pretty and intelligent, she coquetted with every one, +and with me in particular; then, after some encouragement, she jilted me +for a Bavarian lieutenant with rosy cheeks.</p> + +<p>This blow, to tell the truth, was not very serious, but I found it +advisable to give myself up for a time to regrets and solitude, and I +established myself at Z.</p> + +<p>It was not alone the situation of this small town, at the foot of two +lofty mountains, that had impressed me; it had enticed me by its old +walls, flanked with towers, its venerable lindens, the steep bridge, +which crossed its limpid river, and chiefly by its good wine.</p> + +<p>After sundown (it was then the month of June), charming little German +girls, with yellow hair, came down for a walk in its narrow streets, +greeting the strangers whom they met with a gracious <i>guten abend</i>. Some +of them did not return until the moon had risen from behind the peaked +roofs of the old houses, making the little stones with which the streets +were paved scintillate by the clearness of its motionless rays. I loved +then to wander in the town of Z.; the moon seemed to regard it +steadfastly from the depths of a clear sky, and the town felt this look +and remained quiet and on the alert, inundated by the clearness that +filled the soul with a trouble mingled with sweetness. The cock at the +top of the gothic steeple shone with a pale reflection of gold; a +similar reflection crept in little golden serpents over the dark depths +of the river; at narrow windows, under slated roofs, shone the solitary +lights. The German is economical! The vine reared its festoons +mysteriously over the walls. At times a rustling could be heard in the +obscurity near an old empty well upon the public square of the town; the +watchman replied to it by a prolonged whistle, and a faithful dog +uttered a deep growl. Then a breath of air came so softly caressing the +face, the lindens exhaled a perfume so sweet, that involuntarily the +chest dilated more and more, and the name of Marguerite, half in +exclamation, half in appeal, arose to the lips.</p> + +<p>The town of Z. is about a mile from the Rhine. I often went to admire +that magnificent river, and I whiled away entire hours at the foot of a +gigantic ash, dwelling, in my reveries, upon many things, among others, +but not without a certain effort, upon the image of my faithless widow. +A little madonna, with almost infantine features, whose breast showed a +red heart, pierced with swords, looked at me in a melancholy way from +the midst of the branches. Upon the opposite side of the river, rose up +the town of L., a little larger than that in which I was living. I went +one evening as usual to take my seat upon my favorite bench; I looked in +turn at the water, the heavens, and the vines. Opposite me some +tow-headed children clambered over the tarred hull of a boat that had +been left upon the sands of the river, bottom up. Little boats, with +sails puffed out by the breeze, advanced slowly; greenish waves passed +before me, creeping along, swelling out a little, and then going down +with a feeble murmur. Suddenly I thought I distinguished the sound of an +orchestra, which re-echoed in the distance. I listened; they were +playing a waltz in the town of L. The double bass pealed out at +intervals, the violin squeaked confusedly, the whistlings of the flute +were quite distinct. "What is it?" I asked of an old man who was +approaching me. He wore, after the custom of the country, a plush +waistcoat, blue stockings, and buckled shoes.</p> + +<p>"They are students, who have come from B. for a <i>commersch</i>," he +replied, after shifting his pipe to the other side of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Let us see what is a <i>commersch</i>," I said to myself: "besides I have +not seen the town of L." I hailed a boatman, and had him take me across +the river.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II.</h2> + + +<p>Many people, no doubt, are ignorant of what this word <i>commersch</i> means. +Thus they designate a <i>fête</i> to which come all the students of the same +country or of the same society to take part (<i>Landsmannschaft</i>). Most of +the young men who resort to these gatherings wear the traditional +costume of the German students, a frogged surtout, large boots, and a +small cap, the lace of which is of the color of the country. The +students assemble for the banquet, over which presides a <i>Senior</i>, or +the oldest of the band, and remain at table until morning. They drink; +they sing the <i>Landesvater</i>, the <i>Gaudeamus</i>; they smoke; they laugh at +the Philistines, and often indulge in the luxury of an orchestra.</p> + +<p>It was a gathering of this kind that was taking place in the garden of +the hotel, with the sign of the <i>Soleil</i>. The house and garden, which +looked upon the street, were draped with flags; the students were seated +at tables under the lindens; an enormous bull-dog was lying under one +of the tables; in a corner, under a thicket of ivy, were seated the +musicians, who were playing their best, imbibing quantities of beer to +keep themselves in working order. A great number of curious townspeople +were assembled in the street, before the rather high railing of the +garden, the good citizens of the town of L. not wishing to let slip an +occasion to examine closely the guests who had come among them. I joined +the group of spectators. I could observe with pleasure the faces of the +students; their embracings, their exclamations, the innocent presumption +of youth, their enthusiastic glances, their impulsive laughter,—the +best kind of laughter, that joyful ebullition of a life yet full, that +impetuous flight towards no matter what aim, providing it was forward, +that <i>abandon</i> full of thoughtlessness, touched and captivated me. Why +should I not join them? I asked myself.</p> + +<p>"Annouchka, have you not had enough of this?" suddenly said in Russian a +man's voice behind me. "Stay a little longer," answered a woman's voice +in the same language. I turned quickly, and my looks fell upon a man +some young man in a riding-coat and cap; he had on his arm a young girl, +very small, whose straw hat almost concealed her features.</p> + +<p>"You are a Russian?" I asked of them, with a start which I could not +help.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are Russian," answered the young man, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I did not expect," I said to him, "in a foreign country to meet"—</p> + +<p>"Nor we either," said he, interrupting me. "Allow me," continued he, "to +make ourselves known to you; my name is Gaguine, and here is"—he +hesitated a moment—"here is my sister. And you, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>I in turn told him my name, and we engaged in conversation. I learned +that Gaguine was travelling, like myself, for pleasure, and that, having +arrived about a week ago at L., he had settled himself there for the +time being.</p> + +<p>I must confess I do not like to become intimate with Russians in a +foreign country. As far as I can see them, I easily recognize their +walk, the cut of their clothes, principally the expression of their +face. This expression, supercilious and scornful in its nature, at +times imperious, suddenly assumes a cautious and even a timid air. They +appear seized with a kind of restlessness; their eyes disclose a strange +anxiety: "Seigneur! have I not said something foolish; are they laughing +at me by chance?" their look seems to ask. Then one sees them again +assume their majestic calmness, until a new feeling of uneasiness +comes to trouble them. Yes, I say it again, I avoid all intercourse with +my fellow-countrymen; nevertheless, at first sight, I felt attracted +towards Gaguine. There are in the world such happy faces that one takes +pleasure in looking at them, they reflect a warmth which attracts and +does one good, as if one had received a caress. Such was Gaguine's, with +large eyes as soft as the curls of his hair, and a voice whose sound +made you divine that he had a smile upon his lips.</p> + +<p>The young girl whom he called his sister at first sight appeared to me +charming. There was an expression quite peculiar, piquant and pretty at +times, upon her round and slightly brown face; her nose was small and +slender, her cheeks chubby as a child's, her eyes black and clear. +Though well proportioned, her figure had not yet entirely developed. +Withal there was no resemblance to her brother.</p> + +<p>"Will you come home with us?" said Gaguine to me. "It seems to me that +we have looked long enough at these Germans. Russians by this time would +have broken up the glasses and chairs; but these young fellows before us +are too reserved. Come, Annouchka, is it not time to return home?"</p> + +<p>The young girl assented by a nod of the head.</p> + +<p>"We live out of town," added Gaguine, "in a small isolated house upon a +hill, surrounded by vines. You shall see whether it is pretty! Come, our +landlady has promised to make us some cheese-rennet. Besides the day is +on the wane, and you will cross the Rhine more securely by moonlight."</p> + +<p>We proceeded. A few moments after we passed through the low gate of the +town, which was surrounded by an old stone wall that still preserved +some battlements. We advanced into the country; after going along by the +side of an old wall a hundred paces, we stopped before a little door; +Gaguine opened it and made us ascend a steep path, upon the sides of +which were rows of vines.</p> + +<p>The sun was just setting; a faint purple hue tinged the vines, the props +that sustained them, the parched earth covered with pieces of slate, as +well as the white walls of a little house, all the bright windows of +which were framed in black bars, and towards which the footpath that we +were climbing guided us.</p> + +<p>"Here is our stopping-place!" cried Gaguine, when were a little way from +the house, "and there's our landlady, too, bringing us some milk. <i>Guten +abend</i>, madam," cried he. "We are going to have our frugal repast at +once; but first," said he, "look about you and tell me what you think of +the view."</p> + +<p>The site that he showed me was, indeed, admirable. At our feet the +silvery waters of the Rhine, illumined by the purple of the setting sun, +flowed between the verdant banks. The town, peacefully placed on the +river banks, displayed to our eyes all its houses and all its streets; +the hills and fields stretched out about it.</p> + +<p>If that which was at our feet was beautiful, more lovely still was the +sight above our heads. One was struck by the depth and clearness of the +heavens, the transparency and brilliancy of the atmosphere. Clear and +light, the undulations of the breeze moved softly about us; that also +seemed to take delight in the heights.</p> + +<p>"You have chosen an admirable place to live in," I said to Gaguine.</p> + +<p>"It is Annouchka who found it out," he replied to me. "Come, Annouchka, +give your orders. Have them bring everything here; we will sup in the +open air, that we may hear the music better. Have you noticed," added +he, turning to me, "that such music as a waltz near at hand seems +detestable; heard at a distance, charms and makes all the poetic chords +of your heart vibrate."</p> + +<p>Annouchka directed her steps towards the house, and soon returned +accompanied by the landlady. They brought an enormous dish of milk, +spoons, plates, sugar, fruits, and bread. We seated ourselves and began +to eat. Annouchka took off her hat; her black hair, cut short, fell in +large curls over her ears and her neck. My presence appeared to +embarrass her; but Gaguine said to her, "don't be shy; he will not bite +you."</p> + +<p>These words made her smile, and a few moments after she spoke to me +without the least embarrassment. She did not remain quiet a moment. +Hardly was she seated than she arose, ran towards the house, and +reappeared again, singing in a low voice; often she laughed, and her +laugh had something strange about it—one would say that it was not +provoked by anything that was said, but by some thoughts that were +passing through her mind. Her large eyes looked one in the face openly, +with boldness, but at times she half closed her eyelids, and her looks +became suddenly deep and caressing.</p> + +<p>We chatted for about two hours. It was some time since the sun had gone +down, and the evening light, at first resplendent with fire, then calm +and red, later on confused and dim, mingled little by little with the +shades of night. Yet our conversation still went on. Gaguine had a +bottle of Rhine wine brought; we drank it slowly. The music had not +stopped, but the sounds that the wind brought us seemed sweeter. In the +town and upon the river lights began to spring up. Annouchka suddenly +lowered her head, her curly hair fell over her brow, then she became +silent and sighed. In a few moments she told us that she was sleepy and +went into the house. I followed her with my eyes, and saw her sitting a +long time motionless in the shadow behind the closed window. At last the +moon appeared on the horizon, and its rays made the waters of the Rhine +scintillate softly. Everything before us suddenly changed; brightness, +then darkness, sprang up in every direction, and the wine, even in our +glasses, assumed a mysterious appearance. There was no longer any wind; +it ceased suddenly, like a bird that folds its wings; a delicate and +warm perfume arose from the ground.</p> + +<p>"It is time to go!" I exclaimed, "otherwise I shall not find a boatman."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is time," replied Gaguine. We took the path that came down the +mountain. Suddenly we heard some pebbles rolling behind us; it was +Annouchka, who was coming to rejoin us.</p> + +<p>"You did not go to bed then?" said her brother.</p> + +<p>She did not reply, but ran down before us. Some of the lamps that the +students had to light up the garden still threw a dying glimmer, which +lighted up the foliage of the trees, at the foot of which they burnt, +and gave to them a solemn and fantastic appearance. We found Annouchka +upon the bank; she was talking with the boatman. I jumped into the boat +and took leave of my new friends. Gaguine promised me a visit the next +day. I gave him my hand, which he pressed; I offered the other to +Annouchka, but she contented herself by looking at me and nodding her +head. The boat was set loose from the bank, and the current carried it +along with rapidity. The boatman, a robust old man, plunged his oars +energetically into the dark waters of the river.</p> + +<p>"You are going into the reflection of the moon," cried Annouchka; "you +have broken it."</p> + +<p>I looked upon the river, its dim shadows crowded about the boat.</p> + +<p>"Adieu," she said once more.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then," added Gaguine.</p> + +<p>The boat reached the shore; I jumped out of it and looked behind me, but +I no longer saw any one on the other bank. The reflection of the moon +spread out again, like a bridge of gold, from one bank of the river to +the other.</p> + +<p>The last chords of a waltz of Lanner's could be heard, as if bidding me +a farewell. Gaguine was right; these far-away sounds moved me strangely.</p> + +<p>I regained the house through the fields, shrouded in a profound +obscurity, inhaling slowly the balmy air; and when I had re-entered my +little room, I felt troubled to the bottom of my soul by the confused +expectation of an undefined happiness. What do I say? I was already +happy; why? I could not have told what I wanted, nor of what I was +thinking, and yet I was happy.</p> + +<p>At the time this superabundance of strange and delicious sensations +almost made me laugh; I quickly went to bed, and just as I was closing +my eyes I suddenly remembered that I had not thought the whole evening +of my faithless one.—What does this mean, I asked myself; is it that I +am no longer in love? But that question remained unanswered, and I slept +like a child in its cradle.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III.</h2> + + +<p>The next morning, being awake, but not yet up, I heard the sound of a +walking-stick echoing under my window, and a voice that I recognized as +that of Gaguine, pouring forth the following song:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Si je trouve encor dans les bras du sommeil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Je viens te reveiller au bruit de ma guitare."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p>I hastened to open the door to him.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said he, entering, "I disturb you very early, but the +weather is so fine. See what a delicious freshness, the dew, the singing +of the larks"—</p> + +<p>And, indeed, he, with his rosy cheeks, his curly hair, and his half-bare +neck, had all the freshness of morning.</p> + +<p>I dressed myself; we went into my little garden and took a seat upon a +bench; they brought our coffee there, and we began to talk.</p> + +<p>Gaguine told of some of his future plans; having a fine fortune and +dependent upon no one, he wished to devote himself to painting, and +regretted only that he had taken it up so late, he had lost so much +valuable time. I in turn confided to him the plans that I had formed, +and took advantage of the opportunity to make him the confidant of my +unhappy love affair. He listened patiently, but I could see that the +sufferings of my heart had but little interest for him. After having +listened to my story for politeness' sake, with two or three sighs, he +proposed that we should go and see his sketches. I immediately +consented. We started. Annouchka was not at home. The landlady informed +us that she must be at the ruins. They so called the remains of an old +feudal castle, which was situated a mile or so from the town. Gaguine +opened all his portfolios. I found that his sketches had much life and +truth, something broad and bold; but none were finished, and the drawing +appeared to me incorrect and careless.</p> + +<p>I frankly expressed my opinion.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," he replied, sighing, "you are right; all that is bad, and it +is not matured by reflection. What am I to do? I have not worked +enough; our cursed Slavic indolence always ends in getting the better of +me! Whilst the work is still but an idea, like an eagle soaring in the +air, we believe ourselves able to move the world; then at the moment of +execution come weaknesses, and then—weariness."</p> + +<p>I offered him some words of encouragement, but he interrupted me with a +wave of the hand, picked up his sketches, and threw them in a heap upon +the sofa.</p> + +<p>"If perseverance does not fail me, I shall succeed," said he, between +his teeth; "otherwise, I shall vegetate as a country squire, never +amounting to anything.</p> + +<p>"Let us go and look for Annouchka!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IV.</h2> + + +<p>The road that led to the ruins ran along the side of a narrow and wooded +dell. At the bottom a rapid stream rushed noisily over the stones, as if +in a hurry to lose itself in the great river, which was seen in the +distance behind the dark rampart of steep mountains. Gaguine called my +attention to several very harmonious effects of color, and his words +revealed to me, if not a painter of talent, at least a true artist. The +ruin was soon before us. It was at the top of a barren rock, a square +tower, entirely blackened, quite intact, but nearly split from top to +bottom by a deep crack. Walls covered with moss were attached to the +tower. Ivy clung here and there; stunted shrubbery sprang out of grayish +embrasures and caved-in vaults; a stony path led to an entrance door +standing upright. We were not far from it when a woman's figure appeared +suddenly before us, leaped lightly upon a heap of rubbish, and stood +erect upon the projection of a wall at the edge of a precipice.</p> + +<p>"I am not mistaken!" exclaimed Gaguine; "it is Annouchka. How foolish of +her!"</p> + +<p>We passed through the door, and found ourselves in a small court almost +entirely filled with nettles and wild apple trees. It was, indeed, +Annouchka, sitting upon the projection of the wall. She turned her head +towards us and began to laugh, not moving from her place; Gaguine shook +his finger at her, and raising my voice, I reproached her for her +imprudence.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet," Gaguine said, in my ear; "let her do it; you have no idea of +what she is capable when provoked; she would climb to the top of the +tower. Admire rather the industrious spirit of the people of the +country."</p> + +<p>I turned and saw in a corner a booth of boards, on the floor of which +was squatting an old woman knitting stockings, looking at us from under +her spectacles. She had for sale beer, cakes, and seltzer water, for the +use of tourists.</p> + +<p>We seated ourselves upon a bench and began to drink foamy beer from +heavy tin goblets. Annouchka still remained seated in the same place, +her feet curled under her, her head enveloped in her muslin scarf; her +charming profile outlined clearly against the blue sky; but I looked at +her with some irritation. I believed the evening before that her manners +were affected and unnatural. She wishes to astonish us, I thought; but +why? what a childish whim. You would say that she had divined my +thought, for, throwing upon me a quick penetrating glance, she began to +laugh, descended from the wall in two jumps, then, approaching the old +woman, she asked her for a glass of water.</p> + +<p>"You think I wish to drink?" she said to her brother; "no, I wish to +water the flowers upon the wall yonder that are dying and dried up by +the sun."</p> + +<p>Gaguine did not reply; she left us, her glass in her hand, and climbed +once more upon the ruins. Stopping at intervals she stooped and poured +out with a comic gravity some drops of water that sparkled in the sun. +Her movements were very graceful; but I still watched her with +disapproval, admiring, however, her nimbleness and activity. Coming to +a dangerous place she purposely alarmed us by giving a little cry and +then began to laugh. That was the finishing stroke to my impatience.</p> + +<p>"She is a regular goat," muttered the old woman, who had stopped +working.</p> + +<p>Having emptied the last drop of water from her glass, Annouchka at +length arose to rejoin us, approaching with a defiant manner. A strange +smile for a moment contracted her lips and her eyebrows and dilated her +nostrils; she half closed her black eyes with a provoking air of +mockery.</p> + +<p>"You think my conduct unbecoming," her face seemed to say; "no matter, I +know that you admire me."</p> + +<p>"Perfect! charming! Annouchka," said Gaguine.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the young girl appeared to feel a sense of shame, and lowering +her eyes, she came and sat by us like a culprit. For the first time I +examined her features closely; and I have rarely seen more mobile ones. +A few moments had scarcely elapsed before her face lost all color and +took an expression approaching almost to sadness; it even seemed to me +that her features assumed grandeur, artlessness. She appeared entirely +absorbed.</p> + +<p>We explored the ruins minutely. Annouchka kept behind us, and we began +to admire the view. When the dinner hour arrived, Gaguine paid the old +woman, and asked from her a last jug of beer; then turning to me, he +said with a shy smile:—</p> + +<p>"To the lady of your thoughts!"</p> + +<p>"He has then—you have then a lady of whom you think?" asked Annouchka.</p> + +<p>"And who has not?" replied Gaguine.</p> + +<p>Annouchka remained thoughtful for some moments, the expression of her +face changed again, and a smile of defiance, almost impudent, appeared +once more upon her lips.</p> + +<p>We again took our way to the house, and Annouchka again began to laugh +and frolic with more affectation than before. Breaking a branch from a +tree, she shouldered it like a gun, and rolled her scarf about her head. +I remember that we then met a large family of English people, with light +hair, looking awkward; all, as if obeying a word of command, threw upon +Annouchka their blue eyes, in which was depicted a cold look of +astonishment; she began to sing in a loud voice, as if to defy them. +When we arrived, she immediately went to her room, and did not reappear +until dinner, decked out in her finest dress, her hair dressed with +care, wearing a tight-fitting bodice, and gloves on her hands. At table +she sat with dignity, scarcely tasted anything, and drank only water. It +was evident she wished to play a new rôle in my presence: that of a +young person, modest and well-bred. Gaguine did not restrain her; you +could see that it was his custom to contradict her in nothing. From time +to time he contented himself with looking at me, faintly shrugging his +shoulders, and his kindly eye seemed to say: "She is but a child; be +indulgent." Immediately after dinner she rose, bowed to us, and, putting +on her hat, asked of Gaguine if she could go and see Dame Louise.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been in need of my permission?" he replied, with his +usual smile, which this time, however, was slightly constrained; "you +are tired of us, then?"</p> + +<p>"No; but yesterday I promised Dame Louise to go and see her; besides, I +think you would be more at your ease without me. Monsieur," she added, +turning to me, "you will—you will perhaps, have some more confidences."</p> + +<p>She left us.</p> + +<p>"Dame Louise," said Gaguine, trying to avoid my look, "is the widow of +the old burgomaster of the town. She is rather a plain, but an excellent +old woman. She has a great liking for Annouchka, who, moreover, has a +mania for becoming intimate with people below her; a mania that, as far +as I can observe, almost always springs from pride."</p> + +<p>"You see," added he, after a moment's silence, "that I treat Annouchka +like a spoiled child, and it could not be otherwise; I could not be +exacting towards any body, how much less towards her?"</p> + +<p>I did not reply. Gaguine began to talk upon another subject. The more I +learned to know him the more he inspired me with affection. I soon +summed up his character; it was a fine, good Russian nature, +straightforward, upright, and unaffected, but unfortunately wanting in +energy and earnestness. His youth did not give forth passion and ardor, +but shone with a sweet and dim light. He had wit and charming manners, +but how difficult to conjecture what would become of him when he became +a man! An artist—no! Every art calls for hard work, unceasing efforts; +and never, I said to myself, in looking at his calm features, listening +to his languid voice, never could he bind himself to constant and +well-directed work. And yet it was impossible not to like him; one +became attached to him involuntarily. We passed nearly four hours +together, sometimes side by side upon the sofa, sometimes walking slowly +before the house, and our talk ended by uniting us. The sun went down, +and I was thinking about going home.</p> + +<p>Annouchka had not yet returned.</p> + +<p>"Ah, what a wayward child!" exclaimed Gaguine. "Wait, I will see you +home; would you not like to have me? As we go we will stop at Dame +Louise's and see if she is yet there; it will not be much out of the +way."</p> + +<p>We descended into the town, and after following for a short time a +narrow and winding street, we stopped before a high, four-storied +house, with but two windows in front; the second story projected over +the street more than the first, and in the same manner the other two. +This strange habitation, with its Gothic arches, placed upon two +enormous posts and topped with a pointed tiled roof, and a dormer +window, surmounted by an iron crane extended in the form of a beak, had +the effect of an enormous bird meditating.</p> + +<p>"Annouchka, are you there?" cried Gaguine.</p> + +<p>A lighted window opened in the third story, and we perceived the brown +head of the young girl. Behind her appeared the toothless face of an old +German woman, her eyes weak with age.</p> + +<p>"Here I am," said Annouchka, leaning coquettishly on the window-sill. "I +like it very well. Wait, take this," added she, throwing to Gaguine a +slip of geranium. "Imagine to yourself that I am the lady of your +thoughts."</p> + +<p>Dame Louise began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"He is going away," replied Gaguine; "he wishes to bid you farewell."</p> + +<p>"Really?" said Annouchka. "Well, then, as he is going, give him the +flower. I will come home very soon."</p> + +<p>She quickly closed the window, and I thought I saw her embrace the old +German. Gaguine offered me the flower in silence. Without saying a word +I put it in my pocket, and returning to the place where they cross the +river, I passed over to the other side. I recollect walking towards my +house with a singularly sad heart, though thinking of nothing, when a +perfume well known to me, but rare enough in Germany, attracted my +attention. I stopped, and saw near the road a plot of ground sown with +hemp. The perfume that this plant of the steppes gave out suddenly +transported me to Russia, and brought forth in my soul a passionate +enthusiasm towards my country; I conceived the ardent desire of +breathing my native air, and feeling again under my feet the soil of my +fatherland. "What am I doing here?" I exclaimed; "What interest have I +in wandering in a strange land, among people who are nothing to me?" and +the oppression that filled my heart soon gave way to an emotion violent +and full of bitterness.</p> + +<p>I re-entered my house in a state of mind the opposite to that of the +night before; I felt almost vexed, and was long in calming myself. I +felt a deep vexation, for which I could not account. I ended by sitting +down, and recalling my faithless widow (she came to my recollection +officially every evening); I took one of her letters, but did not open +it, for my thoughts took wing to the other side of the river. I began to +dream, and Annouchka was the subject. I recalled that in the course of +our conversation; Gaguine gave me to understand that certain +circumstances prevented him from returning to Russia.—"Who knows, +indeed, if she is his sister," I asked myself aloud.</p> + +<p>I laid down and tried to sleep, but an hour after I was still leaning on +my elbow, and thinking again of that capricious little girl with a +forced laugh. She has the figure of <i>La Galathée</i> of Raphael of the +Farnese palace, I murmured.—It is well that—and she is not his sister. +During this time the widow's letter reposed quietly upon the floor, +lighted up by a pale ray of the moon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>V.</h2> + + +<p>The next morning I returned to L. I persuaded myself that I should take +the greatest pleasure in seeing Gaguine, but the fact is that I was +secretly impelled by the desire of knowing how Annouchka would +behave,—if she would act as strangely as the night before. I found them +both in the parlor; and a singular thing,—but perhaps because I had +been dreaming so long of Russia,—Annouchka seemed to me entirely +Russian. I found in her the air of a young girl of the people, almost +that of one of the servants. She wore quite an old dress, her hair was +drawn back behind her ears, and, seated near the window, she was quietly +working at her embroidery, as if she had never done anything else in her +life. Her eyes fixed upon her work, she scarcely spoke, and her features +had an expression so dull, so commonplace, that I was involuntarily +reminded of Macha and Katia<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> at home. To complete the resemblance she +began to hum the air,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, ma mère, ma douce Colombe!<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>While observing her face, the dreams of the night before came back to +mind, and without knowing why, I felt an oppression in my heart. The +weather was magnificent.</p> + +<p>Gaguine told us he intended to go out to sketch. I asked permission to +accompany him if it would not trouble him.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," he said, "you can give me some good advice."</p> + +<p>He put on his blouse, donned his round Van Dyck hat, took his portfolio +under his arm, and started out. I followed him. Annouchka remained at +home. On leaving, Gaguine begged her to see that the soup was not made +too thin. She promised to keep her eye on the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Leading me into the valley, with which I was already familiar, Gaguine +seated himself upon a stone, and began to draw an old tufted oak.</p> + +<p>I stretched myself upon the grass and took a book, but read two pages of +it at the most. Gaguine, on his side, made but a poor daub. In return +we did not fail to discuss very fully, and, in my opinion, not without +judgment and justness, the best method to follow to work with profit, +the dangers to avoid, the end to be aimed at, and the mission of the +true artist in the age in which we live. Gaguine ended by declaring that +to-day he did not feel sufficiently in spirits, and came and stretched +himself at my side. Then we gave ourselves up to the irresistible +temptation of one of those conversations so dear to youth, conversations +sometimes enthusiastic, sometimes pensive and melancholy, but always +sincere and always vague, in which we Russians love so much to indulge. +After having talked to satiety, we took the road to the town, very well +satisfied with ourselves, as if we had just accomplished a difficult +task, or brought a great enterprise to a good end. We found Annouchka +exactly as we left her. I observed her with the utmost attention; I +could discover in her neither the slightest shade of coquetry, or +indication denoting a studied part; it was impossible this time to find +in her any vestiges of oddity.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly," said Gaguine, "she is fasting and doing penance."</p> + +<p>Towards evening she yawned two or three times without the least +affectation, and went to bed early. I took leave of Gaguine soon after, +and, going home, I did not allow myself to dream. The day came to an end +without my mind suffering the least trouble, only it seemed to me, as I +lay down, that I said involuntarily aloud,—</p> + +<p>"Oh! that little girl—she is, indeed, an enigma. And yet," added I, +after a moment's reflection, "and yet she is not his sister!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VI.</h2> + + +<p>A fortnight elapsed after these events. I went every day to make Gaguine +a visit. Annouchka seemed to shun me, and no longer indulged in those +head-shakings that had annoyed me so much in the first days of our +acquaintance. She seemed to conceal a grief or a secret trouble; she +laughed more rarely. I continued to observe her with curiosity.</p> + +<p>French and German were quite familiar to her, but a number of things +made me divine that she had been without a woman's care in her infancy, +that she had received a strange, desultory education, quite different +from that of Gaguine. In him, in spite of his blouse and Van Dyck hat, +you quickly discovered the Russian gentleman, nonchalant and slightly +effeminate; she in no wise resembled a noble lady. All her movements +implied a kind of restlessness; she was a seedling newly grafted, a wine +that yet fermented. Naturally timid and distrustful of herself, she was +vexed at feeling <i>gauche</i>, and sought in spite of it to give herself an +unconstrained and bold manner, but not always with success. Several +times I led the conversation to her past, and her way of living in +Russia; I saw that she replied with a bad grace to my questions. All +that I could learn was that at the time she left Russia she was living +in the country. One day I found her alone and reading; her head leaning +on her hands, her fingers thrust in her hair, she was devouring the book +before her with her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" I cried, approaching. "What, a love of study?"</p> + +<p>She raised her head, and, looking at me with a serious and dignified +air, "You thought, then, I could do nothing but laugh?" she said, and +she rose to leave.</p> + +<p>I glanced at the title of the book; it was a bad French novel.</p> + +<p>"You might have made a better choice," I said to her.</p> + +<p>"What must I read, then?" she cried, and, throwing her book upon the +table, she added: "Then, in that case, I am going to amuse myself." And +she ran towards the garden.</p> + +<p>The same day, in the evening, I read to Gaguine <i>Herrman and Dorothea</i>. +As I began to read, Annouchka went to and fro incessantly, then suddenly +she stopped, listened, seated herself quietly beside me, and gave me her +attention to the end.</p> + +<p>The next day I was again surprised in no longer seeing the old +Annouchka. I began to comprehend that she had suddenly taken into her +head to be a housewife, wrapped up in her duties, like Dorothea. Finally +her character seemed inexplicable to me. In spite of the excessive +<i>amour propre</i> that I found in her, I felt attracted towards her, even +when she made me angry. One thing, at least, appeared certain, and that +was that she was not the sister of Gaguine. I did not find in him +towards her the conduct of a brother; on her side too much respect and +compliance, too little constraint.</p> + +<p>A strange circumstance seemed, according to all appearances, to +strengthen my suspicions. One evening, approaching the hedge which +surrounded Gaguine's house, I found the gate closed. Without stopping at +this obstacle I reached a place where, some days before, I had noticed +that a part of the hedge was destroyed, and I jumped into the enclosure; +some distance from there, a few steps from the path, there was a little +arbor of acacias; scarcely had I passed it than I distinguished the +voice of Annouchka, who cried out with fervor, weeping,—</p> + +<p>"No, I shall never love any one but you; no, no, it is you alone whom I +wish to love, and forever!"</p> + +<p>"Come, calm yourself," replied Gaguine, "you know very well that I +believe you." Their voices left the arbor. I could see them through the +thin foliage; they did not observe me.</p> + +<p>"You, you only," she repeated; and, throwing herself on his neck, she +clung to him with convulsive sobs, covering him with kisses.</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself, calm yourself," he kept repeating, passing his hand over +the hair of the young girl.</p> + +<p>I remained quiet for some moments, then I came to my senses.—Should I +approach them? "No, not for the world," I immediately said.</p> + +<p>I quickly regained the hedge, and, passing it at a stride, I again took +the road to my house, running. I smiled, I rubbed my hands, I wondered +at the chance that had unexpectedly confirmed my suppositions; the least +doubt seemed no longer possible, and at the same time I felt in my heart +an intense bitterness.</p> + +<p>"I must confess," I said to myself, "that they can dissimulate well! But +what is their object? And I—why should they make me their dupe? I +should not expect such a thing from him. Then, what a melodramatic +scene!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VII.</h2> + + +<p>I passed a bad night. Rising early in the morning, I threw over my +shoulders my travelling bag, warned my landlady that I would not return +during the day, and walked by the side of the mountains, along the +river, upon the borders of which was situated the little town of L. +These mountains, whose chain bears the name of <i>Hundsrüch</i> (Dog's Back) +are of a very curious formation; especially noticeable were columns of +basalt very regular and of great purity of shape, but at the moment I +hardly thought of making any geological observations. I could not +account for the way I felt, only I was conscious that I no longer wished +to persuade even myself that the only cause of the sudden estrangement +with which they inspired me was my chagrin at being deceived by them. +Nothing obliged them to give themselves out as—brother and sister. +Finally I tried to banish the remembrance of them from my mind.</p> + +<p>I wandered at leisure over mountains and valleys; I made some long stops +in the village inns; engaging in a quiet conversation with the landlord +and travellers, or else, lying down upon a flat stone, warmed by the +sun, I looked at the clouds floating by. Happily for me the weather was +beautiful. It was thus I occupied my leisure for three days, and I found +in doing so a certain charm, though at times I felt depressed. The state +of my mind was in perfect accord with the tranquil nature of these +regions.</p> + +<p>I abandoned myself entirely to chance, to all the impressions that +happened to strike me. They followed each other slowly and left in the +depths of my soul a general sensation, in which mingled harmoniously all +that I had seen, felt, and heard for the last three days; yes, +everything, without exception, the penetrating odor of rosin in the +woods, the cries and the tappings of the woodpecker, the incessant +rushing of the clear streams, with speckled trout playing on the sandy +bottom, the undulating outlines of the mountains, the towering rocks; +the neat little villages, with their respectable old churches; the +storks in the meadows, the pretty mills with clattering wheels, the +stout figures of the countrymen with their blue waistcoats and gray +stockings, the lumbering carts drawn slowly by heavy horses and +sometimes by cows, young travellers, with long hair, walking in groups +on the smooth streets, bordered with pear and apple trees.</p> + +<p>I still find a charm in the remembrance of these impressions.</p> + +<p>Hail to you! humble corner of German soil, abode of a modest comfort, +where one meets at every step traces of a diligent hand, of a work slow, +but full of perseverance, to you my vows and my reverence!</p> + +<p>I returned home only on the evening of the third day. I have forgotten +to say that, in my chagrin against Annouchka, I attempted to revive in +my thoughts the image of my stony-hearted widow, but had my labor for my +pains. I remember that as soon as I recalled her, I found myself face to +face with a little girl of about five years of age, with a round and +innocent face, with eyes animated with a naïve curiosity. She looked at +me with such a candid expression that I felt quite ashamed before her +glance; it was distasteful for me to lie even to myself in her presence, +and my old idol disappeared from my remembrance forever.</p> + +<p>Arriving home, I found a letter from Gaguine; he spoke of the +astonishment that my sudden disappearance had caused him; reproached me +for not having taken him for a companion, and begged me to come and see +him as soon as I returned.</p> + +<p>This letter caused me a painful impression; nevertheless, I started for +L. the next day.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VIII.</h2> + + +<p>Gaguine gave me a friendly greeting, and loaded me with affectionate +reproaches. As to Annouchka, as if she did it on purpose, as soon as she +saw me, she burst out laughing without the slightest cause, and +immediately fled, as usual. Gaguine appeared embarrassed, stammered out +that she was foolish, and begged me to excuse her. I confess that, being +already displeased, I was so much the more wounded by this forced +merriment and strange affectation. I feigned, however, to attach no +importance to it, and related to Gaguine the details of my little +excursion. On his side, he informed me of what he had done during my +absence; nevertheless the conversation languished, while Annouchka kept +coming in and out of the room. I brought this to an end by pretending +unavoidable work, and manifested my intention of leaving. Gaguine +attempted at first to detain me; then, bestowing a searching glance at +me, offered to accompany me. In the outer room Annouchka came up +suddenly and offered me her hand. I just touched the ends of her fingers +and scarcely bowed.</p> + +<p>I crossed the Rhine with Gaguine, and when we were near the ash of the +little Madonna we seated ourselves upon the bench to admire the view. +Then we entered into a conversation I shall never forget.</p> + +<p>We at first exchanged some commonplaces, then there was a silence. We +fixed our eyes upon the transparent waters of the river.</p> + +<p>"I should like to know what you think of Annouchka," said Gaguine +suddenly, with his usual smile. "Does she not appear somewhat +fantastic?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied, much surprised at the question, as I hardly expected +him to venture upon such ground.</p> + +<p>"That comes from not knowing her; thus you cannot judge her well," said +he. "She has an excellent heart, but a very bad head. You must bear a +great deal from her! You would not reproach her if you knew her +history."</p> + +<p>"Her history?" I exclaimed; "is she not then your"—</p> + +<p>Gaguine stopped me with a look.</p> + +<p>"You are not going to imagine that she is not my sister?" he replied, +without paying any attention to my embarrassment. "Yes, she is indeed +the daughter of my father. Give me your attention. I have confidence in +you and am going to tell you everything.</p> + +<p>"My father was an excellent man, having intelligence and a cultivated +mind, but whose life was nevertheless very sad. It was not that he was +more ill-used by fortune than any one else, but he had not the strength +to bear a first misfortune. While still young he had made a love +marriage; his wife, who was my mother, did not live long; I was only six +months old when she died. My father then took me into the country, and +for twelve years did not put foot outside of his domain. He himself +began my education, and would never have separated himself from me if +his brother, my paternal uncle, had not come to see him on his estate. +This uncle lived at Petersburg, and he held an important position there. +He succeeded in persuading my father to confide me to his care, so that +he would never need to leave his estate; he represented to him that +isolation was injurious to a boy already grown, and who in the hands of +a preceptor as sad and stern as my father would be far behind children +of my own age, and that even my character would suffer.</p> + +<p>"My father resisted his attempts for a long time, but finally yielded. I +cried on being separated from him, for I loved him, though I had never +seen a smile upon his lips. Arrived at Petersburg, I soon forgot the +sad, dark place where my infancy was passed. I entered the military +school, then a regiment of the Guard. I went every year to pass some +weeks in the country. Each time I found my father more morose, more +reserved and pensive, until at times he became fierce. He went every day +to church, and almost entirely lost the habit of talking.</p> + +<p>"During one of these visits (I was about twenty years of age) I +perceived for the first time a slight girl with black eyes, about twelve +years old; it was Annouchka. My father told me she was an orphan whom he +took care of, and I paid but little attention to this child, wild, +silent, and active as a young fallow deer. When I entered my father's +favorite room, the vast chamber where my mother died, and so dark that +they kept it lighted in broad day, Annouchka hid herself behind a large +arm-chair or the bookcase. It happened that for three or four days after +this last visit I was prevented by my duties from returning to my +father's, but every month I received a few lines from his hand, in which +he rarely spoke of Annouchka, and always without going into any details +of the subject. He was already over fifty, but appeared still a young +man. You may imagine the shock when I suddenly received a letter from +our steward, in which he announced to me that my father was dangerously +ill, and implored me to come as soon as possible if I wished to see him +before he died.</p> + +<p>"I started immediately, and travelled with the greatest speed, and found +my father still living, but just about to breathe his last. He was +delighted to see me again, and clasped me in his emaciated arms, +fastening his glance upon me, which appeared at once to fathom my +thoughts and to address me a mute prayer, and making me promise to +fulfil his last wish, he ordered his old valet to bring Annouchka into +his room.</p> + +<p>"The old man led her in; she could hardly stand, trembling all over.</p> + +<p>"'Now,' said my father with an effort, 'I confide to your care my +daughter, your sister; Iskof will relate everything to you,' he added, +designating his old servant.</p> + +<p>"Annouchka began to sob and fell upon the bed, hiding her face. Half an +hour after, my father expired.</p> + +<p>"This is what I learned: Annouchka was the daughter of my father and of +an old waiting maid of my mother, named Tatiana. I recollect Tatiana +very well. She was tall, with large, dark eyes, noble, severe, and +intelligent features, and passed for a proud girl, rather +unapproachable. As far as I could understand by the simple story with +respectful omissions that Iskof related, my father did not notice +Tatiana until several years after the death of my mother. At that time +Tatiana no longer lived in the manor-house, but with one of her married +sisters, charged with looking after the courtyard. My father had taken a +fancy to her, and when I left the country he even thought of marrying +her, but she resisted all his entreaties. 'The dead Tatiana +Vlassievna,' said Iskof, standing reverentially near the door, his hands +behind his back, 'was a person of great good judgment; she did not wish +to bring prejudice against your father,'—'I become your wife, mistress +here, you can't think of it?' she cried, thus addressing your father in +my presence." Inflexible upon this point, Tatiana would not even change +her abode; she continued to live at her sister's with Annouchka. When I +was a child I often remember having seen Tatiana on fête-days at church. +A dark handkerchief on her head, a yellow shawl thrown over her +shoulder, she stood with the other villagers near a window. Her stern +profile stood out clearly against the panes, and she prayed with modest +gravity, bowing profoundly after the custom of the old time, and +touching the earth with the end of her fingers before touching it with +her forehead.</p> + +<p>"At the time my uncle took me away, little Annouchka was only two years +old; she was nine when she lost her mother. After the death of Tatiana, +my father took the child to his own house. Already he had several times +expressed a wish to do so, but Tatiana was always opposed to it. You +may imagine what Annouchka must have felt when she found herself +established in the house of him they called "the master." Even to the +present time she preserves the remembrance of the day when for the first +time she put on a silk dress, and they made her kiss his hand. Her +mother had brought her up with severity; my father did not place the +least restraint upon her. He charged himself with her education; she had +no other master. He did not spoil her, or load her with useless tasks. +He loved her ardently; he could refuse her nothing. Annouchka soon +learned that she was the principal personage of the house; she knew that +the master was her father; even then she had a feeling of her false +position, and an <i>amour propre</i> unhealthful and full of mistrust sprang +up in her. Some bad habits took root; her <i>naïveté</i> disappeared; she +wished, she confided to me later, to force the whole world to forget her +origin. At times she blushed at it; then, ashamed at her blushes, she +showed that she was proud of her mother. You see that she knew, and +knows still, a great many things which she should have been ignorant of +at her age; but whose fault was it? The passion of youth burst forth +impetuously, and there was no friendly hand to direct her. It is so +difficult to make good use of such entire independence. So, not wishing +to be behind other nobles' daughters, she devoted herself to reading; +but what profit could she derive from it? Her life, begun in a false +way, remained so, but her heart kept pure.</p> + +<p>"At this time I was but twenty years of age, and charged with the care +of a young girl of thirteen. For the first few days after my father's +death the sound of my voice was sufficient to throw her into a fever. My +caresses caused her agony; it was but gradually and almost insensibly +that she became accustomed to me. It is true that later, when she saw +that I was thoughtful of her, and loved her as a sister, she became +ardently attached to me; she could feel nothing half way.</p> + +<p>"I took her to Petersburg, and though hard for me to leave her, it not +being in my power to keep her near me, I placed her in one of the best +boarding-schools of the city. Annouchka understood the necessity of this +separation, but she fell ill and nearly died. Later she became +accustomed to this kind of life. She remained at boarding-school four +years, and, contrary to my expectation, she came out nearly the same as +she went in. The mistress of the boarding-school often complained of +her. "Punishments have no effect upon her," she told me, "and marks of +affection find her equally insensible." Annouchka was very intelligent; +she studied hard, and in this respect led all her companions; but +nothing could make her comply with the ordinary rules,—she remained +obstinate, and with an unsociable humor. I do not blame her entirely; +she was in a position where there were but two ways of acting open to +her,—a complacent servility or a proud shyness. Among all her +schoolmates, she was intimate with but one, a young girl, quite plain, +poor, and persecuted. The other scholars of the boarding-school, most of +them of the aristocracy, did not like her, and pursued her with their +sarcasms. Annouchka kept aloof from them in every way. One day the +priest charged with their religious instruction spoke of the faults of +youth; Annouchka said aloud: "There are no greater faults than flattery +and meanness." In a word, her character did not change, only her manners +improved, although there was still much to be desired.</p> + +<p>"So she reached her seventeenth year. My position was quite +embarrassing; but a happy thought suddenly occurred to me: it was to +leave the service, pass three or four years in a strange country and +take my sister with me. As soon as I conceived this resolution I put it +in execution, and that is why you find us both upon the banks of the +Rhine, I attempting to paint, and she doing anything she wishes, +according to her fancy. Now I hope that you will not judge her too +severely, for I warn you that Annouchka, though pretending to care +nothing about it, is very sensitive to the opinion that others have of +her, and to yours above all."</p> + +<p>As he said these last words, Gaguine smiled with his usual calmness. I +pressed his hand with warmth.</p> + +<p>"All this is nothing," he replied, "but I tremble for her in the future. +She has one of the most inflammable natures. Up to the present time no +one has pleased her; but if she ever loves, who can tell what may result +from it? I do not at times know how to behave towards her. Imagine those +days when she wished to prove to me that I was cool towards her, whilst +she loved only me, and would never love another man! and while saying +this she would weep bitterly.</p> + +<p>"It is for this reason then?—" I began to say, but I immediately +stopped myself.</p> + +<p>"Since we are in the chapter of confidences," I replied, "allow me one +question. Is it true that no one has pleased her up to the present time? +Yet at Petersburg she must have seen a great many young people?"</p> + +<p>"They were all to the highest degree displeasing to her. You see, +Annouchka was seeking for a hero, an extraordinary man, or some handsome +shepherd living in a mountain cave. But it is time for me to stop; I +detain you," added he, rising.</p> + +<p>"No," I said to him, "let us rather go to your house. I don't wish to go +into the house."</p> + +<p>"And your work?" he asked of me.</p> + +<p>I did not reply to him. Gaguine kindly smiled, and we returned to L. In +again seeing the vineyard and the white house on the mountain, I felt a +peculiarly sweet emotion that penetrated my soul; it was as if balm had +been poured into my heart.</p> + +<p>Gaguine's story relieved me greatly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IX.</h2> + + +<p>Annouchka came to meet us at the threshold of the door. I was expecting +a fresh burst of laughter, but she approached us pale, silent, her eyes +cast down.</p> + +<p>"I have brought him back," said Gaguine, "and it is well to add that he +wished to come himself."</p> + +<p>She looked at me with a questioning air. I put my hand out to her this +time, and pressed with fervor her cold and trembling fingers. I felt a +profound pity for her. I understood, indeed, the sides of her character +which had appeared inexplicable to me. That agitation one saw in her, +that desire of putting herself forward, joined with the fear of +appearing ridiculous, was quite clear to me now.</p> + +<p>A weighty secret oppressed her constantly, her inexperienced <i>amour +propre</i> came forward and receded incessantly, but her whole being sought +the truth. I understood what attracted me towards this strange young +girl: it was not only the half-savage charm bestowed upon her lovely +and graceful young figure, it was also her soul that captivated me. +Gaguine began to rummage over his portfolios; I proposed to Annouchka to +accompany me into the vineyard. She immediately consented, with a gay +and almost submissive air. We went half way down the mountain, and +seated ourselves upon a stone.</p> + +<p>"And you were not dull without us?" she asked me.</p> + +<p>"You were then dull without me?" I replied to her.</p> + +<p>Annouchka looked at me slyly.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she said, and almost immediately began,—</p> + +<p>"The mountains must be very beautiful. They are high, higher than the +clouds. Tell me what you saw. You have already told my brother, but I +have not heard."</p> + +<p>"But you did not care to hear, since you went out."</p> + +<p>"I went out because,—you see very well that I don't go out now," added +she in a tender tone; "but this morning you were angry."</p> + +<p>"I was angry?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Come now, why should I have been?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; but you were angry, and went away in the same mood. I was +very sorry to see you go away so, and I am glad to see you come back."</p> + +<p>"And I am very glad to be back," I answered.</p> + +<p>Annouchka shrugged her shoulders, as children do when they are pleased. +"Oh! I know it," she replied. "I used to know by the way in which my +father coughed whether he was pleased with me or not."</p> + +<p>It was the first time that she had spoken of her father; it surprised +me.</p> + +<p>"You loved your father very much?" I asked her; and suddenly, to my +great disgust, I felt that I blushed.</p> + +<p>She did not answer, and blushed also.</p> + +<p>We kept silent for some time. In the distance the smoke of a steamboat +rose up on the Rhine; we followed it with our eyes.</p> + +<p>"And your story," she said to me in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Why did you sometimes begin to laugh when you saw me?" I asked her.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Sometimes I feel like weeping, and I begin to laugh. You +must not judge of me by the way I act. Apropos, what is that legend +about the fairy Lorelei? This is her rock that one sees here. They say +that formerly she drowned everybody, until, falling in love, she threw +herself into the Rhine. I like the story. Dame Louise knows a great many +of them; she tells them all to me. Dame Louise has a black cat with +yellow eyes."</p> + +<p>Annouchka raised her head and shook her curls.</p> + +<p>"Ah! how happy I am," she said. At that moment low, monotonous sounds +began to be heard at intervals,—hundreds of voices, chanting in chorus, +with cadenced interruptions, a religious song. A long procession +appeared on the road below us, with crosses and banners.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we join them," Annouchka said to me, listening to the chants +that came to us growing fainter and fainter by degrees.</p> + +<p>"You are then very religious?"</p> + +<p>"One should go to some place very far away for devotion, or to +accomplish a perilous work!" she added. "Otherwise the days slip +by—life passes uselessly."</p> + +<p>"You are ambitious," I said to her. "You do not wish to end your life +without leaving behind some traces of your existence?"</p> + +<p>"Is it then impossible?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" I was going to answer; but I looked at the eyes that shone +with ardor, and confined myself to saying, "Try!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me," after a moment's silence, during which indescribable shades +passed over her countenance, which again had become pale. "Then that +lady pleases you very much? You know, the one whose health my brother +drank at the ruins the day after you met us?"</p> + +<p>I began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Your brother but jested; no woman was in my mind, or at least is there +now."</p> + +<p>"And what is it that you like about women?" she asked, turning her head +with a childlike curiosity.</p> + +<p>"What a singular question!" I cried.</p> + +<p>Annouchka was immediately troubled.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have asked you such a question, should I? Forgive me; I am +accustomed to say whatever comes into my head. That is why I am afraid +to speak."</p> + +<p>"Speak, I beg you! Fear nothing, I am so delighted at seeing you less +wild."</p> + +<p>Annouchka lowered her eyes, and for the first time I heard a sweet low +laugh come from her lips.</p> + +<p>"Come, tell me about your trip," she said, arranging the folds of her +dress over her knees, as if to install herself there for a long time; +"begin or recite something to me, that which you read from Onéguine."<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + + +<p>She suddenly became pensive, and murmured in a low voice,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Où sont aujourd'hui la croix et l'ombrage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui marquaient la tombe de ma pauvre mère."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"That's not exactly the way that Pouchkina<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> expressed himself," I +said.</p> + +<p>"I should like to be Tatiana,"<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> continued she, still pensive. "Come, +speak," she said with vivacity.</p> + +<p>But that was far from my thoughts. I looked at her; inundated by the +warm light of the sun, she seemed to me so calm, so serene.—About us, +at our feet, above our heads, the country, the river, the heavens,—all +were radiant; the air seemed to me quite saturated with splendor.</p> + +<p>"See, how beautiful it is," I said, lowering my voice involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, very beautiful," she replied in the same tone, without looking +at me. "If you and I were birds, how we would dart forth into +space—into all that infinite blue! But we are not birds."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but we can bring forth wings."</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"Life will teach you. There are many feelings that will raise you above +this earth; never fear, the wings will come to you."</p> + +<p>"Have you had any?"</p> + +<p>"What shall I say? I don't think that I have taken wing so far."</p> + +<p>Annouchka became thoughtful once more. I was leaning over her.</p> + +<p>"Can you waltz?" she said to me suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied, a little surprised at the question.</p> + +<p>"Then come quickly; come. I am going to beg my brother to play us a +waltz. We will pretend that the wings have appeared, and that we are +flying into space."</p> + +<p>She ran towards the house. I quickly followed her, and a few moments had +hardly elapsed before we were whirling about the narrow room, to the +sounds of a waltz of Lanner's. Annouchka danced with much grace and +animation. I do not know what womanly charm suddenly appeared upon her +girlish face. Long afterwards the charm of her slender figure still +lingered about my hand; for a long time I felt her quick breathing near +me, and I dreamed of her dark eyes, motionless and half closed, with her +face animated, though pale, about which waved the curls of her sweet +hair.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>X.</h2> + + +<p>Nothing could have been more delightful than that day. We amused +ourselves like children. Annouchka was pleasing and artless. Gaguine +regarded her with pleasure. I left them a little later. When I reached +the middle of the Rhine I begged the boatman to let his boat drift down +the river. The old man rested on his oars, and the majestic river +carried us along. I looked about me, listened, and dreamed. Suddenly I +felt a weight at my heart. Astonished, I raised my eyes to the heavens, +but found no quiet there. Studded with stars, the entire heavens seemed +to be moving, palpitating, trembling; I leaned towards the river, but +down there in those cold and dark depths, there, too, were the stars +trembling and moving. Everything appeared incited by a restless +agitation, and my own trouble only increased it. I leaned upon the edge +of the boat. The sighing of the wind in my ears, the rippling of the +water, which made a wake behind the stern, irritated me, and the cold +air from over the water did not refresh me. A nightingale began to sing +near the river bank, and the sweetness of the melodious voice ran +through me like a delicious and burning poison. But they were not tears +from an excitement without cause; what I felt was not the confused +emotion of vague desires,—it was not that effervescence of the soul +which wished to clasp everything in its embrace, because it could +understand and love everything that exists; no, the thirst for happiness +was kindled in me. I did not yet venture to put it into words—but +happiness, happiness to satiety—that was what I wished, what I longed +for. Meanwhile, the boat kept on down the stream, and the old boatman +dozed on his oars.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XI.</h2> + + +<p>While going the next morning to Gaguine's, I did not ask myself if I was +in love with Annouchka, but did not cease to dream of her, to ponder on +her fate; I rejoiced in our unforeseen reconciliation. I felt that I had +not understood her until the previous evening; up to that time she was +an enigma. Now, at length, she was revealed to me; in what an entrancing +light was her image enshrouded, how new she was to me, and what did she +not promise!</p> + +<p>I followed deliberately the road that I had gone over so many times, +glancing at every step at the little white house that was seen in the +distance. I thought not of the far-off future; I did not even give a +thought to the next day; I was happy.</p> + +<p>When I entered the room Annouchka blushed. I noticed that she had again +dressed herself with care, but by the expression of her face she was not +entirely at her ease, and I—I was happy. I even thought I noticed a +movement to run away, as usual, but, making an effort, she remained. +Gaguine was in that particular state of excitement which, like a fit of +madness, suddenly takes hold of the <i>dilettanti</i>, when they imagine that +they have caught Nature in the act and can hold her.</p> + +<p>He was standing, quite dishevelled and covered with paint, before his +canvas, bestowing upon it, right and left, great strokes of his brush.</p> + +<p>He greeted me with a nod that had something quite fierce about it, going +back a few steps, half closing his eyes, then again dashing at his +picture. I did not disturb him, but went and sat by Annouchka. Her dark +eyes turned slowly towards me.</p> + +<p>"You are not the same to-day as you were yesterday," I said, after +vainly trying to smile.</p> + +<p>"It is true, I am not the same," she replied in a slow and dull voice; +"but that's nothing. I have not slept well. I was thinking all night +long."</p> + +<p>"Upon what?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, mon Dieu, upon a great many things. It is a habit of my childhood, +of the time that I still lived with my mother."</p> + +<p>She spoke this last word with an effort, but repeated it again:—</p> + +<p>"When I lived with my mother I often asked myself why no one knew what +would happen to them, and why, when foreseeing a misfortune, one cannot +avoid it. And why also can one not tell the whole truth. I was thinking +moreover last night that I ought to study, that I know nothing; I need a +new education. I have been badly brought up. I have neither learned to +draw nor to play upon the piano; I hardly know how to sew. I have no +talent, people must be very much bored with me."</p> + +<p>"You are unjust to yourself," I replied to her; "you have read a great +deal, and with your intelligence"—</p> + +<p>"And I am intelligent?" she asked, with such a curious naïve air that I +could hardly keep from laughing.</p> + +<p>"Am I intelligent, brother?" she asked of Gaguine.</p> + +<p>He did not reply, but kept on painting assiduously, changing his brush +over and over again, and raising his hand very high at every stroke.</p> + +<p>"Really at times I have no idea what I have in my head," replied +Annouchka, still thoughtful. "Sometimes, I assure you, I am afraid of +myself. Ah! I would like—Is it true that women should not read a great +many things?"</p> + +<p>"A great many things are not necessary, but"—</p> + +<p>"Tell me what I should read, what I should do. I will follow your advice +in everything," added she, turning towards me with a burst of +confidence.</p> + +<p>I could not think immediately of what I ought to tell her.</p> + +<p>"Come, would you not be afraid that I should weary you?"</p> + +<p>"What a strange idea!"</p> + +<p>"Well, thanks for that," said she, "I was afraid that you might be +wearied in my society," and with her small burning hand clasped mine.</p> + +<p>"I say! N——," cried Gaguine at this moment, "is not this tone too +dark?"</p> + +<p>I approached him, and the young girl rose and left the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XII.</h2> + + +<p>She reappeared in about an hour at the door, and beckoned me to her.</p> + +<p>"Listen," said she; "if I should die, would you be sorry?"</p> + +<p>"What singular ideas you have to-day," I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I don't think that I shall live long; it often seems to me that +everything about me is bidding me good-by. It is better to die than to +live as—Ah! don't look at me so; I assure you that I'm not pretending; +otherwise, I shall begin again to be afraid of you."</p> + +<p>"Were you afraid of me then?"</p> + +<p>"If I am queer, you must not reproach me. See, already I can no longer +laugh."</p> + +<p>She remained sad and preoccupied until the end of the evening. I could +not understand what had come over her. Her eyes often rested upon me; my +heart was oppressed under her enigmatic look. She appeared calm; +nevertheless, in looking at her, I could not keep from saying something +to lessen her trouble. I contemplated her with emotion; I found a +touching charm in the pallor spread over her features, in the timidity +of her indecisive movements. She all the while imagined that I was in a +bad humor.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she said to me before I left, "I fear that you do not take me +seriously. In future believe all that I tell you; but you, in your turn, +be frank with me; be sure that I shall never tell you anything but the +truth,—I give you my word of honor!"</p> + +<p>This expression, "word of honor," made me smile once more.</p> + +<p>"Ah! don't laugh," said she vivaciously, "or I shall repeat what you +told me yesterday, 'Why do you laugh?' Do you remember," added she, +after a moment's silence, "that yesterday you spoke to me of wings? +These wings have sprung forth. I don't know where to fly."</p> + +<p>"Come, then," I replied, "all roads are open to you."</p> + +<p>She looked at me earnestly for some moments.</p> + +<p>"You have a bad opinion of me to-day," she said, frowning slightly.</p> + +<p>"I! a bad opinion of you?"</p> + +<p>"Why are you standing there, with those dismal faces?" asked Gaguine at +that moment. "Do you wish me to play a waltz for you, as I did +yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," cried she, clasping her hands; "not for the world to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Don't excite yourself; I don't wish to force you."</p> + +<p>"Not for the world," repeated she, growing pale.</p> + +<p>"Does she love me?" I thought, as I approached the Rhine, whose dark +waters rushed rapidly along.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XIII.</h2> + + +<p>"Does she love me?" I asked myself the next morning on awakening. I +feared to question myself more. I felt that her image—the image of the +young girl with the "<i>rire forcé</i>"—was engraved on my mind, and that I +could not easily efface it. I returned to L., and remained there the +entire day, but I only caught a glimpse of Annouchka. She was +indisposed; she had a headache. She only came down for a few moments, a +handkerchief wrapped about her forehead. Pale and unsteady, with her +eyes half closed, she smiled a little, and said,—</p> + +<p>"It will pass away; it is nothing. Everything passes away, doesn't it?" +and she went out.</p> + +<p>I felt wearied, moved by a sensation of emptiness and sadness, and yet I +could not decide to go away. Later on I went home without having seen +her again.</p> + +<p>I passed all the next morning in a kind of moral somnolence. I tried to +lose myself by working; impossible, I could do nothing. I tried to +force myself to think of nothing; that succeeded no better. I wandered +about the town; I re-entered the house, then came out again.</p> + +<p>"Are you not Monsieur N——?" said suddenly behind me the voice of a +little boy.</p> + +<p>I turned about,—a child had accosted me.</p> + +<p>"From Mademoiselle Anna."</p> + +<p>And he handed me a letter.</p> + +<p>I opened it and recognized her handwriting, hasty and indistinct:—</p> + +<p>"I must see you. Meet me to-day at four o'clock in the stone chapel, on +the road that leads to the ruins.—I have been very imprudent. Come, for +heaven's sake! You shall know everything. Say to the bearer, Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is there any answer?" asked the little boy.</p> + +<p>"Say to the young lady, <i>Yes</i>," I replied. And he ran away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XIV.</h2> + + +<p>I went back to my room, and, sitting down, began to reflect. My heart +beat quickly. I read Annouchka's letter over several times. I looked at +my watch; it was not yet noon.</p> + +<p>The door opened and Gaguine entered. He looked gloomy. He took my hand +and pressed it fervently. You could see that he was under the influence +of a deep emotion.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" I asked him. Gaguine took a chair, and seated +himself by my side.</p> + +<p>"Three days ago," he said to me, with an uneasy smile and a constrained +voice, "I told you some things that surprised you; to-day I am going to +astonish you still more. To another than you, I would not speak so +frankly; but you are a man of honor, and a friend, I hope; then listen. +My sister Annouchka loves you."</p> + +<p>I started, and rose quickly.</p> + +<p>"Your sister, you tell me—?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied bruskly, "I said so. It is foolish; she will drive me +mad. Fortunately, she cannot lie, and confides everything to me. Ah! +what a heart that child has; but she will surely ruin herself!"</p> + +<p>"You are certainly in error," I exclaimed, interrupting him.</p> + +<p>"No, I am not mistaken. Yesterday she remained in bed the entire day +without taking anything. It is true she did not complain; but she never +does complain. I felt no uneasiness, but towards evening she had a +little fever. About two in the morning our landlady came and awoke me.</p> + +<p>"'Go and see your sister,' she said to me; 'I think she is ill.'</p> + +<p>"I ran to Annouchka's room, and found her still dressed, consumed with +fever, in tears; her head was on fire; her teeth chattered.</p> + +<p>"'What is the matter with you?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"She threw herself upon my neck and begged me to take her away, if I +valued her life. Without being able to understand anything, I tried to +calm her; her sobs redoubled, and, suddenly, in the depth of her grief, +she confessed to me,—in a word, I learned that she loves you.—There! +You and I are grown men, governed by reason. Well! we will never +understand how deep are the sentiments that Annouchka feels, and with +what violence they manifest themselves; it is something at once +unforeseen and irresistible, like the bursting of a storm. You are, +without doubt, a very attractive man," continued Gaguine, "but yet, how +have you inspired such a violent passion? I cannot conceive of it, I +confess it! She pretends that, as soon as she saw you, she was attracted +towards you. That is why she wept so much of late in assuring me that +she would never love any one in the world but me. She thinks that you +look down upon her, knowing probably her origin. She asked me if I had +told you her story. I told her No, as you may imagine, but her +penetration frightens me. She had but one thought, that was to go away, +and quickly. I stayed with her until morning. She made me promise that +we should start to-morrow, and only then was she quieted. After mature +reflection, I decided to come and confer with you upon the subject. In +my opinion, my sister is right; the best thing is to leave, and I should +have taken her away to-day if an idea had not occurred to me, and +stopped me. Who knows? Perhaps my sister pleases you; if so, why then +should we part? So I decided, and putting aside my pride, relying upon +some observations that I had made—yes—I decided to come—to come and +ask you"—</p> + +<p>Here Gaguine, disconcerted, stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Pray excuse me—pardon—I am not accustomed to interviews of this +kind."</p> + +<p>I took his hand.</p> + +<p>"You wish to know if your sister pleases me!" I said to him firmly. "She +does please me!"</p> + +<p>Gaguine fixed his eyes upon me. "But, in short," replied he, +hesitating,—"would you marry her?"</p> + +<p>"How can I answer that question. I make you the judge of it.—Can I do +it now?"</p> + +<p>"I know it, I know it," cried Gaguine; "no, I have no right to expect an +answer from you, and the question that I have asked you is +unconventional in every particular, but force of circumstances +compelled me to do so. It is not safe to play with fire! You don't +understand what Annouchka is. She may fall ill, or run away, or even—or +even give you a rendezvous. Another would know how to conceal her +feelings and wait, but she cannot. It is her first experience, that's +the worst of it! If you could have seen to-day the way in which she +sobbed at my feet, you would share my fears."</p> + +<p>I began to reflect. The words of Gaguine, "<i>Give you a rendezvous</i>," +oppressed my heart. It seemed shameful to me not to answer his honest +frankness by a loyal confession.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" I at length said to him, "you are right. I received, about an +hour ago, a letter from your sister; there it is." He took it, ran +through it rapidly, and again let his hands fall upon his knees. The +astonishment that his features expressed would have been laughable, if I +could have laughed at that moment.</p> + +<p>"You are a man of honor," he said. "I am not the less embarrassed to +know what to do. How! She asks me to fly, and in this letter she +reproaches herself for her imprudence! But when, then, did she have the +time to write to you? and what are her intentions in regard to you?"</p> + +<p>I reassured him, and we applied ourselves, with as much coolness as was +possible, to discuss what we should do. This is the plan which we +finally determined upon to prevent all unhappiness. It was agreed that I +should go to the rendezvous and speak plainly with Annouchka. Gaguine +promised to remain at home, without showing that he had read the letter; +and it was decided, moreover, that we should meet in the evening.</p> + +<p>"I have full confidence in you," he said, pressing my hand; "have +consideration for her and for me; but, nevertheless, we will leave +to-morrow," added he, rising, "since it is settled that you will not +marry her."</p> + +<p>"Give me until this evening," I replied.</p> + +<p>"So be it! you will not marry her!"</p> + +<p>He took his departure; I threw myself upon the divan and closed my eyes. +I was dazed; too many thoughts at once crowded into my brain. I was +angry with Gaguine for his frankness; I was angry with Annouchka: her +love filled me with joy—and yet I was afraid of it.</p> + +<p>I could not account for her having made a full confession to her +brother. That which above all caused me great pain was the absolute +necessity of making a sudden and almost instantaneous decision.</p> + +<p>"Marry a girl of seventeen, with a disposition like that; it is +impossible!" I cried, rising.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XV.</h2> + + +<p>At the hour agreed upon I crossed the Rhine, and the first person I met +on the bank was the same little boy who had found me in the morning. He +seemed to be waiting for me. "From Mademoiselle Anna," he said to me, in +a low voice, and he gave me another note.</p> + +<p>Annouchka announced to me that she had changed the place of the +rendezvous. She told me to meet her in an hour and a half—not at the +chapel, but at Dame Louise's; I was to knock at the door, enter, and go +up three flights.</p> + +<p>"Again <i>Yes</i>?" asked the little boy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied, and walked along the river bank. I had not time enough +to return to my house, and did not wish to wander about the streets.</p> + +<p>Behind the walls of the town stretched a little garden, with a +bowling-alley covered with a roof, and some tables for beer-drinkers. I +entered it.</p> + +<p>Several middle-aged Germans were bowling; the balls rolled noisily +along; exclamations could be heard from time to time. A pretty little +waiting-maid, her eyes swollen from crying, brought me a jug of beer; I +looked her in the face, she turned away bruskly and withdrew.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" muttered a stout German with very red cheeks, who was seated +near me; "our Hannchen is in great distress to-day; her sweetheart is +drawn in the conscription." I looked at her at this moment; retiring +into a corner, she was resting her cheek upon her hand, and great tears +slowly rolled between her fingers. Some one asked for beer; she brought +him a jug, and went back to her place. This grief reacted upon me, and I +began to think of my rendezvous with sadness and uneasiness.</p> + +<p>It was not with a light heart that I was going to this interview. I must +not give myself up to the joys of a reciprocal love. Must keep to my +word, fulfil a difficult duty. "<i>It is not safe to play with fire.</i>" +This expression, which Gaguine had used in speaking of his sister, +pierced me like a sharp arrow to the bottom of my soul. Yet three days +before, in that boat carried along by the stream, was I not tormented by +a thirst for happiness? Now I could satisfy it, and I hesitated. I +thrust back this happiness; it was my duty to do so; the unforeseen +something which it presented frightened me. Annouchka herself, with her +impulsive nature, her education, this girl strange and full of +fascination, I confess it, frightened me.</p> + +<p>I struggled a long time with these feelings. The moment fixed upon +approached. "I can not marry her," at last I said to myself; "she will +not know that I have loved her."</p> + +<p>I arose, put a thaler into poor Hannchen's hand (she did not even thank +me), and proceeded towards the house of Dame Louise.</p> + +<p>The shades of night were already in the air, and above the dark street +stretched a narrow band of sky, reddened by the setting sun. I gently +tapped at the door; it was immediately opened.</p> + +<p>I crossed the threshold and found myself in complete darkness.</p> + +<p>"This way," said a cracked voice, "you are expected."</p> + +<p>I groped along in the dark a few steps; a bony hand seized mine.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Dame Louise?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" answered the same voice, "it is I, my fine young man."</p> + +<p>The old woman took me up a very steep staircase, and stopped upon the +landing of the third story. I recognized then, by the faint glimmer from +a little garret window, the wrinkled face of the burgomaster's widow. A +sly and mawkish smile half opened her toothless mouth, and made her dull +eyes glitter. She pointed out a door. I opened it with a convulsive +movement, and slammed it after me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XVI.</h2> + + +<p>The little room in which I found myself was quite dark, and it was some +moments before I saw Annouchka. She was seated near the window, +enveloped in a large shawl, her head turned away and almost concealed, +like a startled bird. I felt a deep pity for her. I approached; she +turned away her head still more.</p> + +<p>"Anna Nicolaëvna!" I said to her. She turned quickly and tried to fasten +her look upon mine, but had not the strength. I took her hand; it was +like a dead person's, motionless and cold in mine.</p> + +<p>"I would like," said she, attempting to smile, but her pale lips would +not allow of it; "I would like—no, impossible," she murmured. She was +silent; indeed, her voice grew fainter at every word.</p> + +<p>I sat down by her.</p> + +<p>"Anna Nicolaëvna!" I said again, and, in my turn, I could say nothing +more. There was a long silence. Retaining her hand in mine, I gazed at +her. Sinking down, she breathed quickly, biting her lower lip, in order +to keep back the tears which were ready to flow. I continued to gaze at +her; there was in her motionless and timorous attitude an expression of +weakness deeply touching. It was as if she had fallen crushed upon the +chair and could not stir. My heart was filled with pity.</p> + +<p>"Annouchka!" I said in a low voice. She slowly raised her eyes to mine. +O the look of a woman whose heart has just opened to love! how find +words to describe it?—They beseech, those eyes! they question, they +give themselves up.—I could not resist them—a subtle fire ran through +my veins. I bent over her head and covered it with kisses.—Suddenly my +ear was struck by a trembling sound like a stifled sob. I felt a hand +which trembled like a leaf pass over my hair. I raised my head and saw +her face.—What a sudden transfiguration had come over it!—Fright had +disappeared; her eyes had a far-away look that seemed to ask mine to +join with them; her lips were slightly apart; her forehead was as pale +as marble, whilst her curls floated behind her head, as if a breath of +air had blown them back!</p> + +<p>I forgot everything. I drew her towards me. She offered no resistance. +Her shawl slipped from her shoulders, her head fell and rested gently +upon my breast, under the kisses of my burning lips.</p> + +<p>"I am yours!" she murmured feebly.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the thought of Gaguine flashed across me.</p> + +<p>"What are we doing?" I cried, pushing her from me convulsively. "Your +brother knows everything; he knows that we are here together!"</p> + +<p>Annouchka fell back upon the chair.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, rising and going away from her, "your brother knows +everything! I was forced to tell him all."</p> + +<p>"Forced?" she stammered. She seemed hardly to understand me.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I repeated harshly, "and it is your fault,—yours, yours +alone! What reason had you to give up your secret? Were you forced to +tell your brother everything? He came to me this morning and repeated +all you had told him."</p> + +<p>I tried not to look any more at her, and paced the room.</p> + +<p>"Now," I replied, "all is lost,—all, absolutely all."</p> + +<p>Annouchka attempted to rise.</p> + +<p>"Stay!" I cried. "Stay, I beseech you; fear nothing, you have to do with +a man of honor! But, for heaven's sake, speak! What has frightened you? +Have I changed towards you? As to myself, when your brother came to me +yesterday, I could not do otherwise than tell him what our relations +were."</p> + +<p>"Why tell her all that?" I thought to myself, and the idea that I was a +cowardly deceiver, that Gaguine was aware of our rendezvous, that all +was disclosed—lost beyond redemption—immediately crossed my mind.</p> + +<p>"I did not send for my brother last night," she said, with a choking +voice, "he came of himself."</p> + +<p>"But do you see what this has led to? Now you wish to go away."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I must go," she said, in a very low voice. "I besought you to come +here to say farewell."</p> + +<p>"And you think, perhaps, that to part from you costs me nothing?"</p> + +<p>"But why was it necessary to confide in my brother?" replied Annouchka +in a stupefied tone.</p> + +<p>"I repeat to you, I could not do otherwise. If you had not betrayed +yourself"—</p> + +<p>"I was shut up in my room," she replied naïvely. "I did not know that +the landlady had another key."</p> + +<p>This innocent excuse at the moment put me in a rage; and now I cannot +think of it without deep emotion. Poor child, what an upright and frank +soul!</p> + +<p>"So all is at an end," I replied once more; "at an end—; and we must +part."</p> + +<p>I looked at her furtively. The color mounted to her face; shame and +terror—I felt it only too keenly—seized her. On my side, I walked to +and fro, speaking as if in delirium.</p> + +<p>"There was in my heart," I continued, "a feeling just springing up, +which, if you had left it to time, would have developed! You have +yourself broken the bond that united us; you have failed to put +confidence in me."</p> + +<p>While I spoke, Annouchka leaned forward more and more.—Suddenly she +fell upon her knees, hid her face in her hands, and began to sob. I ran +to her, I attempted to raise her, but she resisted obstinately.</p> + +<p>Woman's tears thoroughly upset me. I cried out to her:—</p> + +<p>"Anna Nicolaëvna! Annouchka,—pray, for heaven's sake,—calm +yourself,—I beseech you."</p> + +<p>And I took her hand in mine.</p> + +<p>But at the moment when I least expected it, she suddenly arose, then, +like a flash, ran towards the door and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Dame Louise, who entered the room a few moments later, found me in the +same place, as if struck by a thunderbolt.</p> + +<p>I could not understand how this interview could have ended so abruptly, +and in such a ridiculous manner, before I had expressed a hundredth part +of what I had to say; before I even could foresee what the consequences +of it were.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle has gone?" Dame Louise asked me, raising her yellow +eyebrows.</p> + +<p>I looked at her with a stupefied air, and left.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XVII.</h2> + + +<p>I passed through the town and walked straight ahead to the fields. A +feeling of vexed disappointment filled my heart. I loaded myself with +reproaches. Why did I not appreciate the motive that had induced this +young girl to change the place of our meeting? Why did I not appreciate +how hard it would be for her to go to this old woman's house? Why, +finally, did I not stay away?</p> + +<p>Alone with her in that dark, isolated room, I had had the courage to +thrust her away, and to remonstrate with her; and, now her image pursued +me, I asked her pardon—her pale face, her eyes timid and full of tears; +her hair in disorder, flowing over her bended neck; the touch of her +forehead as it rested upon my breast; all these remembrances made me +beside myself, and I thought I still heard her murmuring, "I am yours!"</p> + +<p>I reflected: I have obeyed the voice of my conscience.—But no? it was +false! for, most certainly, I should never have wished in my heart for +such a <i>dénouement</i>.—And, then, to be separated from her, to live +without her, shall I have the strength?—"Fool! miserable fool that I +am!" I cried angrily.</p> + +<p>In the meantime night was approaching. I directed my hurried steps +towards the dwelling of Annouchka.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Gaguine came out to meet me.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen my sister?" he cried, from a distance.</p> + +<p>"She is not at home then?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Not returned?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"No,—but I have something to confess," continued he: "in spite of the +promise I made you, I couldn't help going to the chapel. I didn't find +her there. Did she not go there, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, not to the chapel."</p> + +<p>"And you have not seen her?"</p> + +<p>I was obliged to admit that I had seen her.</p> + +<p>"Where then?"</p> + +<p>"At Dame Louise's.—I left her about an hour ago; I thought she was +about to return."</p> + +<p>"We will wait for her," Gaguine said to me.</p> + +<p>We entered the house, and I sat down beside him. We were silent; a +painful constraint was on us both. On the alert for the least sound, +sometimes we looked at each other stealthily, sometimes we cast our eyes +upon the door.</p> + +<p>"I can stay here no longer!" said he, rising; "she will kill me with +anxiety. Come, let us look for her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, let us do so!"</p> + +<p>We went out; it was already night.</p> + +<p>"Come, tell me what happened," demanded Gaguine, drawing his hat over +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Our interview lasted but five minutes at the utmost, and I spoke to her +as we agreed upon."</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said he, "I think we had better separate. Let us look for +her each on his own responsibility; that is the quicker way to find her; +but in any case return to the house in an hour."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XIX.</h2> + + +<p>I hastened down the path that passed through the vineyards and entered +the town; after hurrying through all the streets and looking in every +direction, even at Dame Louise's windows, I came back to the Rhine, and +ran along the river bank. Here and there was a figure of a woman, but +none of them Annouchka's. It was no longer vexation that consumed me, +but a secret terror; still more it was repentance that I felt, boundless +pity, finally love—yes, the deepest love. I threw my arms about; I +called Annouchka; at first, as the shades of night were deepening, in a +low voice, then louder and louder; I repeated a hundred times that I +loved her, swearing never to leave her; I would have given all that I +possessed to press once more her cold hand, to hear once more her timid +voice, to see her once more before me. She had been so near me; she had +come to me with such resolution, in all the frankness of her heart; she +had brought me her young life, her purity,—and I did not take her in +my arms; I had foregone the happiness of seeing her sweet face +brighten.—The thought drove me mad!</p> + +<p>"Where can she have gone? what could she have done?" I cried, in the +impotent rage of despair.</p> + +<p>Something whitish suddenly appeared at the edge of the water. I +recognized the place. There, above the grave of a man who drowned +himself seventy years before, arose a stone cross, half sunken in the +ground, covered with characters almost illegible. My heart was beating +as though it would break. The white figure had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Annouchka," I cried, in such a fierce voice, that I even frightened +myself.</p> + +<p>But no one answered; I finally decided to go and find out whether +Gaguine had not found her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XX.</h2> + + +<p>Quickly going up the vineyard road, I perceived a light in Annouchka's +room. This sight calmed me a little. I approached the house; the +entrance door was closed. I knocked. A window that had no light opened +softly in the lower story, and Gaguine thrust out his head.</p> + +<p>"You have found her?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"She has returned," he answered in a low voice. "She is in her room and +is going to bed. All is for the best."</p> + +<p>"God be praised!" I cried, in a paroxysm of indescribable joy. "God be +praised! Then everything is all right; but you know we have not had our +talk together."</p> + +<p>"Not now," he answered, half closing the window; "another time. In the +meanwhile, farewell!"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," I said, "to-morrow will decide everything."</p> + +<p>"Farewell," repeated Gaguine.</p> + +<p>The window closed.</p> + +<p>I was upon the point of knocking at it,—I wished to speak to Gaguine +one instant longer, to ask his sister's hand,—but a proposal of +marriage at such an hour! "To-morrow," I thought, "to-morrow I shall be +happy."</p> + +<p>Happiness has no to-morrow; it has no yesterday; it remembers not the +past; it has no thought of the future; it knows only the present, and +yet this present is not a day, but an instant.</p> + +<p>I know not how I returned to Z.—It was not my legs that carried me, it +was not a boat that took me to the other side; I was wafted along, so to +speak, by strong, large wings.</p> + +<p>I passed a thicket where a nightingale was singing. I stopped, listened +a long time; it seemed to be singing of my love and my happiness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XXI.</h2> + + +<p>The next morning, on approaching the white house, I was astonished to +see the windows open, also the entrance door. Some pieces of paper were +scattered about the threshold; a servant, her broom in her hand, +appeared at the door. I approached her.</p> + +<p>"They have gone!" she exclaimed, before I could ask whether Gaguine were +at home.</p> + +<p>"Gone!" I repeated; "how is that? Where have they gone?"</p> + +<p>"They went this morning at six o'clock, and did not say where they were +going. But are you not Monsieur N——?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Very well! my mistress has a letter for you."</p> + +<p>She went upstairs, and came back with a letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said she.</p> + +<p>"You must be mistaken, it's impossible!" I stammered.</p> + +<p>The servant looked at me vacantly, and began to sweep.</p> + +<p>I opened the letter; it was from Gaguine. Not a line from Annouchka!</p> + +<p>In beginning, he begged me to forgive him for this hasty departure. He +added that when I was calmer I would approve, no doubt, of his +determination. It was the only means of getting out of an embarrassing +position, and one that might become dangerous.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday evening," he said to me, "while we were waiting for Annouchka +in silence, I was convinced of the necessity of a separation. There are +prejudices that I respect; I can understand that you could not marry +her. She has told me all, and for her sake I must yield to her urgent +entreaties."</p> + +<p>At the end of his letter he expressed regret at the breaking off of our +friendly intercourse so soon; hoped that I would always be happy; +pressed my hand, and begged me not to try and meet them again.</p> + +<p>"A question of prejudices indeed!" I exclaimed, as if he could hear me. +"Folly all that! What right has he to take her away from me?" I clutched +my head wildly.</p> + +<p>The servant began to scream for her mistress, and her fright brought me +to my senses. I felt that I had but one object: to find them again; to +find them again at any cost. To bear such a blow; to resign myself; to +see things end in this way was truly beyond my strength! I learned from +the landlady that they went at six o'clock to take the steamboat down +the Rhine. I went to the office; they told me that they had taken places +for Cologne. I returned to my house to pack up and immediately follow +them.</p> + +<p>As I passed Dame Louise's house I heard some one call me. I raised my +head and perceived the burgomaster's widow at the window of the room +where the previous evening I had seen Annouchka. Upon her lips hovered +that disagreeable smile that I had noticed before. She beckoned to me. I +turned away, and was about to go on, but she called out that she had +something to give me. These words stopped me, and I entered the house. +How can I express to you my emotion, when I found myself again in that +little room.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth," began the old woman, showing me a note, "I should +only have given you this if you had come to my house of your own accord; +but you are such a fine young man—there!"</p> + +<p>I took the note; I read upon a little piece of paper the following +lines, traced in haste with a pencil:—</p> + +<p>"Farewell! we shall see each other no more. It is not through pride that +I go away; I cannot do otherwise. Yesterday, when I wept before you, if +you had said to me but one <i>word</i>, a <i>single word</i>, I would have +remained. You did not say it.—Who knows? Perhaps it is for the best +that it is so. Farewell forever!"</p> + +<p>She had expected but "<i>one word</i>!" Fool that I was! That <i>word</i> I said +the previous evening again and again with many tears; I threw it to the +wind; I cried it out in the midst of lonely fields: but I did not say it +to her; I did not tell her that I loved her! Yes, it was then impossible +for me to pronounce that word. In this fatal room, where I found myself +face to face with her, I was not yet fully conscious of my love; it did +not awaken even then, when in a dull and gloomy silence I stood near +her brother,—it only burst forth, sudden and irresistible, a few +moments after, when, terrified by the thought of a misfortune, I began +to seek her, calling aloud; but then already it was too late!—It is +impossible, they will tell me;—I know not if it is impossible, but I +know that it was so. Annouchka would not have gone if she had had the +least coquetry, if she had not found herself in an essentially false +position. An uncertain position that any other woman would have accepted +she found intolerable. This did not occur to me. My evil genius, then, +at my last interview with Gaguine, under his dark window, had checked +that confession which was upon my lips, and thus the last thread that I +could have seized had broken in my hands.</p> + +<p>I returned the same day to L. with my traps, and started for Cologne. I +often remember that at the moment when the steamboat left the shore, and +when I said farewell to all those streets, to all those places that I +should never forget, I perceived Hannchen, the little servant-maid.</p> + +<p>She was seated upon a bench near the river bank: though yet pale, her +face was no longer sorrowful. A handsome young fellow was by her side +and laughing with her, whilst at the other side of the Rhine my little +Madonna, concealed in the dark foliage of the old ash, followed me sadly +with her glance.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>XXII.</h2> + + +<p>At Cologne I again came upon the track of Gaguine and his sister. I +learned that they had gone to London. I immediately went to that city; +all researches that I made there were in vain. For a long time I did not +allow myself to be discouraged; for a long time I showed obstinate +persistence, but finally was obliged to give up all hope of meeting them +again.</p> + +<p>I never saw them again! I never again saw Annouchka!—Later I heard some +quite vague rumors of her brother; but as to her I have never heard her +spoken of; I do not even know if she still lives.</p> + +<p>Some years ago, while travelling, I caught sight for an instant, at the +door of a railway-carriage, of a woman whose face had a little +resemblance to those features that I shall never forget; but this +resemblance was doubtless the result of chance. Annouchka lived in my +memory as the young girl whom I saw at our last interview, pale and +trembling, leaning upon the back of a wooden chair in the dark corner +of a lonely room.</p> + +<p>Besides, I must confess that the course of my grief was not of long +duration. Soon I persuaded myself that fate had been favorable to me in +preventing my marriage with her, and that a woman with such a +disposition would certainly not make me happy. I was still young at this +period, and that time so short and limited that they call the future +appeared to me infinite. "That which has happened once to me upon my +travels," I said to myself, "can I not meet it again, more charming and +more delightful?" Since then I have known other women; but that feeling +so tender that Annouchka had once awakened was never again aroused. +No—no glance has ever replaced the glance of those eyes fastened upon +mine; I have never again clasped to my breast a heart to whose throbbing +mine has responded with an ecstacy so joyful. Condemned to the solitary +existence of a wandering man, without a home, I regard those days the +saddest of my life; but I still preserve as a relic two little notes and +a withered sprig of geranium that she once threw me from the window; it +breathes even now a slight fragrance, whilst the hand that gave it to +me, that hand that I pressed upon my lips only once, has, perhaps, long +since returned to dust. And I, what have I become? What is there left in +me of the man of former days, of the restlessness of youth, of my plans, +of my ambitious hopes?—Thus the slight perfume of a blade of grass +outlives all joys, all human griefs,—outlives even man himself.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Verse from Romance of Glinker.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Diminutives of Mary and Catherine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> National Russian air.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Poem of Pouchkina.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Instead of "mère," the Russian text says "nourrice."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Heroine of the poem.</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h2><span class="smcap">By the Author of</span> "THE GREEN HAND"</h2> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>The Deserted Ship.</h3> + +<p class="center">A STORY OF THE ATLANTIC.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> GEORGE CUPPLES.</p> + +<p class="center">Author of "The Green Hand," "The Sunken Rock," etc. </p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h2>THE WORKS OF MRS. H. B. GOODWIN.</h2> + + +<p>"There is nothing sensational or dramatic about the writings of Mrs. H. +B. GOODWIN. Her books are natural, heartfelt, and a true mirror of this +not altogether unromantic life of ours," says a distinguished critic.</p> + + +<h3>ONE AMONG MANY.</h3> + +<p>A spirited and fascinating New Work by this gifted and popular author.</p> + + +<h3>CHRISTINE'S FORTUNE.</h3> + +<p><i>Like a pearl on the sands of the sea-shore is the story of Christine +among the average novels of the day. The incidents are few, and the +charm of the story lies in the unfolding of a pure and noble character, +and in the sketches of German life and scenery which form its harmonious +background. The interest though quiet is sustained, and no one who +begins the book will lay it down until he has finished reading it, and +will rise from it with the feeling that he has been in excellent +company. The style, the sentiments, and the teachings are faultless and +ennobling.</i></p> + + +<h3>DR. HOWELL'S FAMILY.</h3> + +<p>"<i>Of the merits of this work it is difficult to speak too highly. It is +written in a style as near perfection as it is possible to conceive. +Better books a parent cannot put into the hands of a son or +daughter.</i>"—<span class="smcap">Watchman.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h2>Sly Ballades in Harvard China.</h2> + +<h3>By E. S. M.</h3> + + +<p>Dainty and unique in style, it will provide bright and amusing Summer +reading, appealing to the taste of cultivated people of society. The +papers are quite unconventional, and are treated with a rare sense of +humor. The versification has the genuine ring. The volume will +undoubtedly make a hit.—<i>Boston Saturday Evening Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>Bright and full of fun.—<i>Boston Globe.</i></p> + +<p>Graceful in fancy, and bright in wit and spirit. The author's drollery +is irresistible, and we should think young ladies would enjoy the book +as much as the beings of the opposite sex.—<i>Quebec Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p>The author is anonymous—as usual, now-a-days—but he is known as one of +the foremost of a band of clever young writers.—<i>Springfield +Republican.</i></p> + +<p>Writes always like a gentleman.—<i>N. Y. Mail.</i></p> + +<p>The volume is of a high order.—<i>Boston Herald.</i></p> + +<p>Suggests Hood at his best.—<i>Boston Journal.</i></p> + +<p>One of the most charming of Summer books.—<i>St. Louis Globe-Democrat.</i></p> + +<p>Written in the approved modern <i>Vers de Societie</i> style, with a singular +mixture of wit and deep feeling. Many of the verses would not be +disowned by Praed, the master-genius of witty verse, or by Calverly, who +wrote "Fly Leaves," a few years back.—<i>Boston Advertiser.</i></p> + +<p>Bret Harte created quite a sensation in London society by reading these +verses in manuscript.—<i>N. Y. Pub. Weekly.</i></p> + +<p>The books contain some of the lightest and brightest bits of verse it +has lately been our good fortune to lead.—<i>The Critic.</i> </p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h2><i><span class="smcap">Whence, What, Where?</span></i></h2> + +<h3><i>A VIEW OF THE ORIGIN, NATURE, AND DESTINY OF MAN.</i></h3> + +<h3>BY JAMES R. NICHOLS, M.D., A.M.</h3> + + +<p>EXTRACTS FROM NOTICES BY THE PRESS.</p> + +<p><i>From Forney's Philadelphia Press.</i></p> + +<p>"Dr. Nichols' essays will be found stimulating reading. No one can take +up the book without feeling the inclination to read further and to +ponder on the all-important subjects which they present. Though it is +not a religious book in the technical sense of the word, it is a book +which calls for the exercise of the religious nature, and it is a book +which in diffusing many sensible ideas will be good."</p> + + +<p><i>From Boston Commonwealth.</i></p> + +<p>"The great value of the little book, 'Whence, What, Where?' by Dr. James +R. Nichols, is in its suggestiveness. It is eminently provocative of +thought. Its value is not to be tested by its bulk. It is full of clear +thinking, and of accurate statement. Dr. Nichols is severely scientific, +and, at the same time, devoutly spiritual. Its philosophy is largely +that of Swedenborg, without Swedenborg's terrible diffusiveness. We have +in it, concisely and clearly stated, all that the strictest scientific +research warrants us in believing of man's origin, nature, and spiritual +destiny. Science is shown to be not necessarily opposed to religion and +to spirituality."</p> + + +<p><i>From Boston Christian Register.</i></p> + +<p>"The book is written in a clear style, and the author's opinions are +readily understood. It is refreshing to have such a work from a +scientific layman, on topics which too many treat with a supercilious +disdain, unbecoming both themselves and the subject."</p> + + +<p><i>From Boston Congregationalist.</i></p> + +<p>"The topics discussed are handled with a good degree of candor, and give +in a small space much interesting information and perhaps some +profitable speculation."</p> + + +<p><i>From the Lowell Mail.</i></p> + +<p>"Its truths may be received as a new revelation from which consolation +and happiness may be derived by those who have been troubled with doubts +and misgivings."</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Annouchka, by Ivan Sergheievitch Turgenef + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNOUCHKA *** + +***** This file should be named 39427-h.htm or 39427-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/4/2/39427/ + +Produced by sp1nd, Mebyon, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +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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