Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) (416 page)

Darya [with a smile]. And yet that woman had much ado to persuade that man to stay to dinner!

Count. Ah! You are malicious! No, tell me, do you really suppose it means nothing to him?

Darya. I don’t suppose it. You see how open I am with you. It is always pleasant to recall one’s young days, especially when one has nothing to reproach oneself with in them.

Count. Well, tell me then what that woman will answer if that man assures her that he has never, never forgotten her, that seeing her has, so to speak, touched him to the heart. . . .

Darya. What she answers?

Count. Yes, yes, what does she answer?

Darya. She answers that she too is touched by his friendly words and [Holding out her hand to him] offers him her hand for the renewing of the real friendship of old days.

Count [seizes her hand]. Vous etes charmante. [Tries to kiss her hand but Darya draws it away.] You are charming, exceedingly charming.

Darya [gets up with a light - hearted air]. Ah, how glad I am! How glad I am! I was so afraid you would not care to remember me, that you would feel uncomfortable and ill at ease with us, that you might even think us impolite.

Count [still sitting, watches her intently]. Tell me, Darya Ivanovna...

Darya [turning slightly towards him]. What?

Count. Was it you persuaded Alexey Ivanitch not to come to me? [Darya nods slyly.] You did? [Getting up.] I vow on my honour you shall not regret it.

Darya. I should think not! I am seeing you.

Count. No, no, I didn’t mean that.

Darya [innocently]. Not that? What then?

Count. Why, it’s a sin that you should remain here. I can’t put up with that. I can’t bear to think that such a pearl should be wasted in the wilderness. ... I will get you . . . your husband, I mean ... a post in Petersburg.

Darya. Nonsense!

Count. You will see.

Darya. Don’t talk nonsense, I tell you.

Count. You think, perhaps, Darya Ivanovna, that I have not enough . . . er . . . er . . . [He tries to find the word] influence to do so?

Darya. Oh! J’en suis parfaitement persuadee!

Count. Tiens! [This exclamation escapes him unconsciously.]

Darya [laughing], I believe you said ‘tiens,’ Count? Did you suppose I had forgotten my French?

Count. No, I didn’t. . . mais quel accent!

Darya. Oh, come!

Count. Well, I promise you the position, all the same.

Darya. Really? You’re not joking?

Count. Not joking at all, quite in earnest.

Darya. Well, so much the better. Alexey Ivanitch will be very, very grateful to you. [A pause.] Only please don’t imagine . . .

Count. What?

Darya. No, nothing. Such an idea could not occur to you, and it ought not to me. And so we may perhaps be in Petersburg? Oh, what happiness! How glad Alexey Ivanitch will be!

Count. We shall often see each other, shan’t we? I look at you, at your eyes, at your curls — and I really feel as though you were sixteen and we were walking together as in old days in the garden sous ces magnifiques tilleuls
           
Your smile has not changed in the least, your laugh is just as musical, just as sweet, aussi jeune qu’alors. . . .

Darya. How do you know that?

Count. How? Do you suppose I don’t remember?

Darya. I didn’t laugh in those days. ... I was in no laughing humour. I was melancholy, pensive, silent — have you forgotten?

Count. Sometimes, though . . .

Darya. You should be the last person to forget that, monsieur le comte. Ah, how young we were then ... I especially! You — you were already a dashing young officer when you came to us. Do you remember how delighted your dear mother was to see you, how she couldn’t make enough of you. . . . Do you remember how even your old aunt, Princess Liza, completely lost her heart to you. . . . [A pause.] No, I didn’t laugh in those days.

Count.
Vous fetes adorable . . . plus adorable que jamais.

Darya. En verite. Memory can do wonders, it seems! You didn’t say that to me then.

Count. I? I who . . .

Darya. Come, that’s enough. Or I may fancy you are meaning to pay me compliments; that’s out of place between old friends.

Count. I? I pay you compliments?

Darya. Yes, yes. Do you imagine you have changed very much since I saw you last? But let us talk of something else. You had better tell me what you are doing, how you spend your time in Petersburg — all that’s so interesting to me. . . . You keep up your music, don’t you?

Count. Yes, in my spare time, you know.

Darya. Have you still the same splendid voice?

Count. A splendid voice I never had, but I do sing still.

Darya. Ah, I remember you had a delightful voice, so sympathetic. ... I believe you used to compose, too?

Count. I do compose a little now.

Darya. In what style?

Count. In the Italian. I don’t care for any other.
Pour moi — je fais peu; mais ce que je fais est bien.
By the way, you used to be fond of music. You yourself, I remember, used to sing very charmingly, and to play the piano very well. I hope you haven’t dropped all that?

Darya [pointing to the piano and the music lying on it]. There’s my answer.

Count. Ah. [Goes up to the piano.]

Darya. But unhappily our piano is a very poor one; it is in tune, though. It’s a little shaky, but it’s not an agony to hear it.

Count [Strikes two or three chords]. It’s not a bad tone. Oh — what an idea! I believe you played at sight?

Darya. If it’s not too difficult, I can.

Count. Oh, it’s not at all difficult. I have a little tiny thing here, une bagatelle que j’ai composee, a little duet from my opera for tenor and soprano — as perhaps you’ve heard — I’m writing an opera — - just to amuse myself, you know . . . sans aucune pretention.

Darya. Really?

Count. I tell you what, if you’ll allow me, I’ll send for that little duet, or, no, I’d better go and fetch it. We’ll try it together, shall we?

Darya. Have you got it here?

Count. Yes, at my hotel.

Darya. Oh, Count, for goodness’ sake, make haste and get it. Oh dear, I am grateful to you! Please go and fetch it.

Count [takes his hat], At once.
Vous verrez cela n’est pas mal.
I hope you will like this little trifle.

Darya. Can you doubt it? Only I beg you beforehand not to be critical.

Count. Oh, how can you? On the contrary it is I . .. [As he is going to the door.] Ah! so you were in no mood for laughter in those days!

Darya. I believe you are laughing at me now
And yet I have something I could show you. . . .

Count. What is it? What is it?

Darya. That I have treasured. ... I should like to see if you would recognize it....

Count. But what is it you are talking of?

Darya. I know what. Go now and fetch your little duet, and then we’ll see.

Count. Vous fetes un ange.
I’ll be back in a moment. Vous fetes un ange. [Kisses his hand to her and vanishes into hall.]

Darya [looks after him and after a brief silence, exclaims]. Victory! Victory!... Can it really be? And so quickly, so unexpectedly! Ah! Je suis un ange! je suis adorable! So I have not quite gone to seed yet. I can still attract even men like him . . . [Smiling] like him. . . . Oh, my dear Count! I can’t disguise the fact that you are rather funny and have certainly seen your best days. And he didn’t turn a hair when I told him he was twenty - eight then instead of thirty - nine . . . how coolly I told the lie, though. Go and fetch your little duet, as you call it. You may be sure I shall think it charming. [Stops before the mirror, looks at herself, and passes both hands down her figure.] My poor countrified dress, good - bye to you, I shall soon part from you!

It’s a good thing I begged that fashion plate from our Mayor’s wife. You’ve done me good service. I’ll never throw you away; but I’m not going to put you on in Petersburg. [Prinking before the glass.] I fancy velvet would not look out of place on these shoulders. [The door from hall is opened a little way and Misha’s head appears. He looks for some time at Darya and, without coming in, says in an undertone: ‘Darya Ivanovna.’]

Darya [turning round quickly]. Ah, it’s you, Misha! What do you want? I’ve no time. . . .

Misha. I know, I know . . . I’m not coming in; I only wanted to warn you that Alexey Ivanitch will be here in a minute.

Darya. Why didn’t you take him for a walk?

Misha. I did go for a walk with him, Darya Ivanovna, but he said he wanted to go to his office; I couldn’t prevent him.

Darya. Well, did he go to the office?

Misha. Yes, he certainly did go into the Department; but a little while afterwards he came out again.

Darya. How do you know he came out?

Misha. I was watching round the corner. [Listens.] There, I believe he’s just coming in. [Vanishes, and a minute later reappears.] You won’t forget me, will you?

Darya. No, no.

Misha. All right. [Disappears.]

Darya. Can Alexey Ivanitch have taken it into his head to be jealous? A happy moment for it, I must say! [She sits down. Stupendyev comes in from hall. He is embarrassed. Darya looks round.] Oh, it’s you, Alexis?

Stupendyev. Me, me, my love. Has the Count gone?

Darya. I thought you were at the office.

Stupendyev. I did just look in at the Department, you know, to tell them not to expect me. How could I go to - day? We have such an honoured guest. . . . But what has become of him?