On the following morning, at tea, Lemm requested Lavretzky to furnish him
with horses, that he might return to town. "It is time that I should set
about my work,--that is to say, my lessons," remarked the old man:--"but
here I am only wasting time in vain." Lavretzky did not immediately reply
to him: he seemed preoccupied. "Very well,"--he said at last;--"I will
accompany you myself."--Without any aid from the servants, grunting and
fuming, Lemm packed his small trunk, and tore up and burned several sheets
of music-paper. The horses were brought round. As he emerged from his
study, Lavretzky thrust into his pocket the newspaper of the day before.
During the entire journey, Lemm and Lavretzky had very little to say to
each other: each of them was engrossed with his own thoughts, and each was
delighted that the other did not disturb him. And they parted rather
coldly,--which, by the way, frequently happens between friends in Russia.
Lavretzky drove the old man to his tiny house: the latter alighted, got
out his trunk, and without offering his hand to his friend (he held his
trunk in front of his chest with both hands), without even looking at
him,--he said in Russian: "Good-bye, sir!"--"Good-bye,"--repeated
Lavretzky, and ordered his coachman to drive him to his own lodgings. (He
had hired a lodging in the town of O * * * in case he might require
it.) After writing several letters and dining in haste, Lavretzky took
his way to the Kalitins. In their drawing-room he found no one but
Panshin, who informed him that Marya Dmitrievna would be down directly,
and immediately entered into conversation with him, with the most cordial
amiability. Up to that day, Panshin had treated Lavretzky, not exactly
in a patronizing way, yet condescendingly; but Liza, in telling Panshin
about her jaunt of the day before, had expressed herself to the effect
that Lavretzky was a very fine and clever man; that was enough: the "very
fine" man must be captivated. Panshin began with compliments to
Lavretzky, with descriptions of the raptures with which, according to his
statement, Marya Dmitrievna's whole family had expressed themselves
about Vasilievskoe, and then, according to his wont, passing adroitly to
himself, he began to talk about his own occupations, his views of life, of
the world, of the government service;--he said a couple of words about the
future of Russia, about the proper way of keeping the governors in hand;
thereupon, merrily jeered at himself, and added, that, among other things,
he had been commissioned in Petersburg--"_de populariser l'idee du
cadastre_." He talked for quite a long time, with careless self-confidence
solving all difficulties, and juggling with the most weighty
administrative and political questions, as a sleight-of-hand performer
juggles with his balls. The expressions: "This is what I would do, if I
were the government"; "You, as a clever man, will immediately agree with
me"--were never absent from his tongue. Lavretzky listened coldly to
Panshin's idle chatter: he did not like this handsome, clever, and
unconstrainedly elegant man, with his brilliant smile, courteous voice,
and searching eyes. Panshin speedily divined, with the swift
comprehension of other people's sentiments which was peculiar to him, that
he was not affording his interlocutor any particular pleasure, and made
his escape, under a plausible pretext, deciding in his own mind that
Lavretzky might be a very fine man, but that he was not sympathetic, was
"_aigri_," and, "_en somme_," rather ridiculous.--Marya Dmitrievna made
her appearance accompanied by Gedeonovsky; then Marfa Timofeevna
entered with Liza; after them followed the other members of the household;
then came that lover of music, Mme. Byelenitzyn, a small, thin lady, with
an almost childish, fatigued and handsome little face, in a rustling black
gown, with a motley-hued fan, and heavy gold bracelets; her husband also
came, a rosy-cheeked, plump man, with huge feet and hands, with white
eyelashes, and an impassive smile on his thick lips; in company his wife
never spoke to him, but at home, in moments of tenderness, she was wont to
call him "her little pig"; Panshin returned: the rooms became very full
of people and very noisy. Such a throng of people was not to Lavretzky's
liking; Mme. Byelenitzyn particularly enraged him by constantly staring
at him through her lorgnette. He would have withdrawn at once, had it not
been for Liza: he wished to say two words to her in private, but for a
long time he was not able to seize a convenient moment, and contented
himself with watching her in secret joy; never had her face seemed to him
more noble and charming. She appeared to great advantage from the
proximity of Mme. Byelenitzyn. The latter was incessantly fidgeting about
on her chair, shrugging her narrow little shoulders, laughing, in an
enervated way, and screwing up her eyes, then suddenly opening them very
wide. Liza sat quietly, her gaze was direct, and she did not laugh at all.
The hostess sat down to play cards with Marfa Timofeevna, Mme.
Byelenitzyn, and Gedeonovsky, who played very slowly, was constantly
making mistakes, blinking his eyes, and mopping his face with his
handkerchief. Panshin assumed a melancholy mien, expressed himself with
brevity, with great significance and mournfulness,--for all the world like
an artist who has not had his say,--but despite the entreaties of Mme.
Byelenitzyn, who was having a violent flirtation with him, he would not
consent to sing his romance: Lavretzky embarrassed him. Feodor Ivanitch
also said little; the peculiar expression of his face had startled Liza,
as soon as he entered the room: she immediately felt that he had something
to communicate to her, but, without herself knowing why, she was afraid to
interrogate him. At last, as she passed into the hall to pour tea, she
involuntarily turned her head in his direction. He immediately followed
her.
"What is the matter with you?"--she said, as she placed the teapot on the
samovar.
"Have you noticed it?"
"You are not the same to-day as I have seen you heretofore."
Lavretzky bent over the table.
"I wanted,"--he began,--"to tell you a certain piece of news, but now it
is not possible.--However, read what is marked with pencil in this
feuilleton,"--he added, giving her the copy of the newspaper which he had
brought with him.--"I beg that you will keep this secret; I will call on
you to-morrow morning."
Liza was surprised.... Panshin made his appearance on the threshold of
the door: she put the newspaper in her pocket.
"Have you read Obermann, Lizaveta Mikhailovna?"--Panshin asked her
meditatively.
Liza gave him a superficial answer, left the hall, and went up-stairs.
Lavretzky returned to the drawing-room, and approached the card-table.
Marfa Timofeevna, with her cap-ribbons untied, and red in the face,
began to complain to him about her partner, Gedeonovsky, who, according
to her, did not know how to lead.
"Evidently,"--she said,--"playing cards is quite a different thing from
inventing fibs."
Her partner continued to blink and mop his face. Liza entered the
drawing-room, and seated herself in a corner; Lavretzky looked at her,
she looked at him,--and something like dread fell upon them both. He read
surprise and a sort of secret reproach in her face. Long as he might to
talk to her, he could not do it; to remain in the same room with her, a
guest among strangers, was painful to him: he decided to go away. As he
took leave of her, he managed to repeat that he would come on the morrow,
and he added that he trusted in her friendship.
"Come,"--she replied, with the same amazement on her face.
Panshin brightened up after Lavretzky's departure; he began to give
advice to Gedeonovsky, banteringly paid court to Mme. Byelenitzyn, and,
at last, sang his romance. But he talked with Liza and gazed at her as
before: significantly and rather sadly.
And again, Lavretzky did not sleep all night long. He did not feel sad,
he was not excited, he had grown altogether calm; but he could not sleep.
He did not even recall the past; he simply gazed at his life: his heart
beat strongly and evenly, the hours flew past, but he did not even think
of sleeping. At times, only, did the thought come to the surface in his
mind: "But that is not true, it is all nonsense,"--and he paused, lowered
his head, and began again to gaze at his life.
-----
[11] A combination of music-room, ball-room, play-room, also used for all
sorts of purposes, in all well-to-do Russian houses.--Translator.