When Nadia Zelenia came home with her mother from the theatre, where
they had been to see “Evgeni Onegin,” and found herself in her own room
once more, she took off her dress, loosened her hair, and hastened to
sit down at her desk in her petticoat and little white bodice, to write
a letter in the style of Tatiana.
“I love you,” she wrote, “but you do not, no, you do not love me!”
As she wrote this she began to laugh.
She was only sixteen and had never been in love in her life. She knew
that the officer Gorni and the student Gruzdieff both loved her, but
now, after seeing the opera, she did not want to believe it. How
attractive it would be to be wretched and spurned! It was, somehow, so
poetical, so beautiful and touching, when one loved while the other
remained cold and indifferent! Onegin was arresting because he did not
love Tatiana, but Tatiana was enchanting because she loved so ardently.
Had they both loved one another equally well and been happy, might not
both have been uninteresting?
“No longer think that you love me,” Nadia continued, thinking of Gorni.
“I cannot believe it. You are clever and serious and wise; you are a
very talented man, and may have a brilliant future before you. I am a
stupid, frivolous girl and you know yourself that I should only hinder
you in your life. You were attracted to me, it is true; you thought you
had found your ideal in me, but that was a mistake. Already you are
asking yourself: why did I ever meet that girl? Only your kindness
prevents you from acknowledging this.”
Nadia began to feel very sorry for herself, she burst into tears and
continued:
“If it were not so hard to leave mamma and my brother, I should take the
veil and go away to the ends of the earth. Then you would be free to
love some one else.”
Nadia’s tears now prevented her from seeing what she was writing; little
rainbows were trembling across the table, the floor, and the ceiling,
and it seemed to her as though she were looking through a prism. To go
on writing was impossible, so she threw herself back in her chair and
began thinking of Gorni.
Goodness, how attractive, how fascinating men were! Nadia remembered the
beautiful expression that came over Gorni’s face when he was talking of
music. How humble, how engaging, how gentle he then looked, and what
efforts he made not to let his voice betray the passion he felt! Emotion
must be concealed in society where haughtiness and chilly indifference
are the marks of good breeding and a good education, so he would try to
hide his feelings, but in vain. Every one knew that he loved music
madly. Endless arguments about music and the bold criticisms of
Philistines kept his nerves constantly on edge, so that he appeared to
be timid and silent. He played the piano beautifully, and if he had not
been an officer he would certainly have become a musician.
The tears dried on Nadia’s cheeks. She remembered that Gorni had
proposed to her at a symphony concert and had later repeated his
proposal down-stairs by the coat rack, where they were standing in a
strong draught.
“I am very glad that you have at last come to know Gruzdieff,” she went
on. “He is a very clever man and you are sure to be friends. He came to
see us yesterday evening and stayed until two. We were all in raptures
over him, and I was sorry that you had not come, too. He talked
wonderfully.”
Nadia laid her arms on the table and rested her head upon them, and her
hair fell over the letter. She remembered that Gruzdieff was in love
with her, too, and that he had as much right to her letter as Gorni had.
On second thoughts, would it not be better to send it to him? A
causeless happiness stirred in her breast; at first it was tiny, and
rolled gently about there like a small rubber ball; then it grew larger
and fuller, and at last gushed up like a fountain. Nadia forgot Gorni
and Gruzdieff, and her thoughts grew confused, but her rapture rose and
rose, until it flowed from her breast into her hands and feet, and a
fresh, gentle breeze seemed to be fanning her head and stirring her
hair. Her shoulders shook with soft laughter; the table shook, the
lamp-chimney trembled, and tears gushed from her eyes over the letter.
She was powerless to control her laughter, so she hastened to think of
something funny to prove that her mirth was not groundless.
“Oh, what a ridiculous poodle!” she cried, feeling a little faint from
laughing. “What a ridiculous poodle!”
She remembered that Gruzdieff had romped with their poodle Maxim
yesterday after tea, and had told her a story of a very intelligent
poodle, who chased a jackdaw around a garden. The jackdaw had turned
round while the poodle was chasing him, and said:
“You scoundrel, you!”
Not knowing that it was a trained bird, the poodle had been dreadfully
dismayed; he had slunk away in perplexity and had afterward begun to
howl.
“Yes, I think I shall have to love Gruzdieff,” Nadia decided, and she
tore up the letter.
So she began to muse on the student, and on his love and hers, but her
thoughts were soon rambling, and she found herself thinking of many
things: of her mother, of the street, of the pencil, and of the
piano.... She thought of all this with pleasure, and everything seemed
to her to be beautiful and good, but her happiness told her that this
was not all, there was a great deal more to come in a little while,
which would be much better even than this. Spring would soon be here,
and then summer would come, and she would go with her mother to Gorbiki,
and there Gorni would come on his holidays, and would take her walking
in the garden and make love to her.
Gruzdieff would come, too; he would play croquet and bowls with her, and
tell her funny and thrilling stories. She longed for the garden, the
darkness, the clear sky, and the stars. Once more her shoulders shook
with laughter; the room seemed to her to be filled with the scent of
lavender, and a twig tapped against the window-pane.
She went across to the bed, sat down, and, not knowing what to do
because of the great happiness that filled her heart, she fixed her eyes
on the little icon that hung at the head of her bed, and murmured:
“Oh! Lord! Lord! Lord!”