The dark-eyed boy occupied all Liudmilla's thoughts. She often talked
about him with her own family and with acquaintances, sometimes
unseasonably. Almost every night she saw him in a dream, sometimes
quiet and ordinary but often in a wild and fantastic guise. Her
accounts of these dreams became so habitual with her that her sisters
began to ask her every morning how she had dreamed of Sasha. She spent
all her leisure thinking about him.
On Sunday Liudmilla prevailed on her sisters to ask Kokovkina in after
Mass and to keep her a while. She wanted to find Sasha alone. She
herself did not go to church. She instructed her sisters: "Tell her
that I overslept myself."
Her sisters laughed at her plot but agreed to help her. They lived very
amicably together. Besides this suited them admirably--Liudmilla would
occupy herself with a boy and that would leave them the more eligible
young men. And they did as they promised--they invited Kokovkina to
come in after Mass.
In the meantime Liudmilla got ready to go. She dressed herself very
gaily and handsomely and scented herself with soft syringa perfume,
and she put a new bottle of scent and a small sprinkler into her
white bead-trimmed hand-bag, and stood just behind the blind in the
drawing-room so that she could see whether Kokovkina was coming. She
had thought of taking the scent before this--to scent the schoolboy so
that he would not smell of his detestable Latin, ink and boyishness.
Liudmilla loved perfumes, ordered them from Peterburg and consumed a
great deal of them. She loved aromatic flowers. Her room was always
full of some sweet scent--with flowers, with perfumes, with pines, and
in the spring with birch-twigs.
But here were the sisters, and Kokovkina with them. Liudmilla ran
through the kitchen, across the vegetable garden, by the little gate,
along a lane in order not to meet Kokovkina. She smiled happily, walked
quickly towards Kokovkina's house and playfully swung her hand-bag and
white parasol. The warm autumn day gladdened her and it seemed as if
she were bringing with her and spreading around her her own spirit of
gaiety.
At Kokovkina's the maid told her that her mistress was not at home.
Liudmilla laughed noisily and joked with the red-cheeked girl who
opened the door.
"But perhaps you're fooling me," she said; "perhaps your mistress is
hiding from me."
"He-he! Why should she hide?" replied the maid with a laugh. "But you
can come in if you don't believe me."
Liudmilla looked into the drawing-room and shouted playfully:
"Is there a live person in the place? Ah, a student!"
Sasha looked out from his room and was delighted to see Liudmilla, and
seeing his joyous eyes Liudmilla became even gayer. She asked:
"And where's Olga Vassilyevna?"
"She's not at home," replied Sasha, "that is, she hasn't come back yet.
She must have gone somewhere after church. Here I'm back and she's not
here yet."
Liudmilla pretended to be astonished. She swung her parasol and said as
if in annoyance:
"How can it be? Everyone else is back from church. She's always at
home, and then I come and she's out. Is it because you make such a
noise, young man, that the old woman can't sit at home?"
Sasha smiled quietly. He was delighted to hear Liudmilla's voice,
Liudmilla's cheerful laughter. He was wondering at the moment how he
could best offer to escort her--so that he would be with her even a few
more minutes, to look at her and to listen to her.
But Liudmilla did not think of going. She looked at Sasha with a shy
smile and said:
"Well, why don't you ask me to sit down, you polite young man? Don't
you see that I'm tired! Let me rest for a moment."
And she entered the drawing-room laughing and caressing Sasha with her
quick, tender eyes. Sasha grew red with confusion but was glad that she
would remain longer with him.
"If you like I'll scent you," said Liudmilla gaily. "Would you like it?"
"What a person you are!" said Sasha. "You suddenly want to suffocate[1]
me! Why are you so cruel?"
Liudmilla burst out laughing and threw herself back in her chair.
"You stupid! You don't understand. I don't mean to suffocate with the
hands, but with scents."
Sasha said:
"Ah! Scents! I don't mind that."
Liudmilla took the sprinkler from her hand-bag and turned before
Sasha's eyes the pretty little glass vessel, dark red with gold
ornaments, with its rubber ball and bronze mouthpiece, and said:
"Do you see, I bought a new sprinkler and I forgot to take it out of my
bag at home."
Then she took out a large scent-bottle with a varicoloured
label--Guerlain's Roa-Rosa.
Sasha said:
"What a deep hand-bag you've got!"
Liudmilla answered:
"Well, you needn't expect anything else. I haven't brought you any
ginger-bread."
"Ginger-bread!" repeated Sasha in amusement.
He looked on with curiosity as Liudmilla uncorked the scent-bottle. He
asked:
"And how will you pour it out from that without a funnel?"
"I expect you to get me a funnel," said Liudmilla.
"But I haven't one," said Sasha.
"Do as you like, but you must get me a funnel," persisted Liudmilla,
laughing.
"I would get one from Milanya, only it's used for paraffin," said Sasha.
Liudmilla again burst into gay laughter.
"Oh, you dull young man, get me a piece of paper, if you can spare
it--and there's your funnel."
"That's true," exclaimed Sasha joyously, "it's easy to make one from
paper. I'll get it at once."
Sasha ran into his room.
"Shall I take it from an exercise-book?" he shouted from his room.
Liudmilla replied:
"You can tear it out from a book--a Latin grammar if you like. I don't
mind."
"No, I'd better take it from the exercise-book," said Sasha laughingly.
He found a clean exercise-book, tore out the middle page and was about
to run back to the drawing-room when he saw Liudmilla at the door.
"May I come in, master of the house?" she asked playfully.
"Please, I shall be very glad!" exclaimed Sasha.
Liudmilla seated herself at his table and twisted a funnel from a piece
of paper. With a preoccupied expression, she began to pour the scent
from the bottle into the sprinkler. The paper funnel, at the bottom
and the side, where the trickle of scent ran, became wet and dark.
The aromatic liquid accumulated in the funnel and dripped into the
sprinkler below. There was a warm, sweet aroma of rose mixed with a
poignant odour of spirit. Liudmilla poured half of the scent from the
bottle into the sprinkler and said:
"That'll be enough."
And she began to screw the top on the scent-sprinkler. Then she rolled
up the piece of wet paper and rubbed it between the palms of her hands.
"Smell!" she said to Sasha and put her palm to his face.
Sasha bent over, closed his eyes, and inhaled. Liudmilla laughed,
lightly touched his lips with her palm and held her hand to his mouth.
Sasha blushed and kissed her warm, scented hand with a gentle contact
of his trembling lips. Liudmilla sighed; a tender expression crossed
her attractive face, and then changed to her habitual expression of
careless gaiety. She said:
"Now, just keep still while I sprinkle you."
And she pressed the rubber bulb. The aromatic spray-dust spurted out,
spreading into minute drops upon Sasha's blouse. Sasha laughed as he
turned obediently when Liudmilla pushed him.
"It smells nice, eh?" she asked.
"Very nice," replied Sasha. "What sort of scent is it?"
"What a baby you are!" said Liudmilla in a teasing voice. "Look on the
bottle and you'll see."
Sasha looked at the label and said:
"It smells of oil of roses."
"Oil!" she said reproachfully, and struck Sasha lightly on the shoulder.
Sasha laughed, gave a slight scream and thrust out his tongue, curving
it in the shape of a tube. Liudmilla rose, and began to turn over
Sasha's school books.
"May I look?" she asked.
"Of course," said Sasha.
"Where are your ones and your noughts? Show me."
"I haven't yet had any such thing," said Sasha with an injured look.
"No, you're fibbing," asserted Liudmilla. "I'm sure you get noughts.
You must have hidden them."
Sasha smiled.
"I'm sure you're bored with Latin and Greek," said Liudmilla.
"No," answered Sasha, but it was evident that the mere conversation
about school-books would bring upon him their habitual tediousness. "It
is a little boring to learn mechanically," he admitted. "But I have a
good memory. I only like solving problems--that I like."
"Come to me to-morrow after lunch," said Liudmilla.
"Thank you, I will," said Sasha blushing.
He felt very happy that Liudmilla had invited him. Liudmilla asked:
"Do you know where I live? Will you come there?"
"Yes, I know. I'll come there," said Sasha happily.
"Now, be sure to come," repeated Liudmilla sternly. "I'll wait for you,
do you hear!"
"But suppose I should have a lot of lessons?" asked Sasha, more from
scruple than from any idea that he would not come because of his
lessons.
"That's all nonsense. You must come," insisted Liudmilla. "They won't
give you a nought."
"But why?" asked Sasha laughingly.
"Because you've got to come. Come, for I've something to tell you and
something to show you," said Liudmilla dancing about and humming a
song, and lifting her skirt as she did so, and playfully sticking out
her pink little fingers.
"Come to me, sweet one, sober one, golden one," she sang.
Sasha began to laugh.
"You'd better tell me to-day," he entreated.
"I mustn't to-day. And how can I tell you to-day? You won't come
to-morrow if I do. You'll say there's nothing to come for."
"Very well, I'll come without fail, if they'll let me."
"Of course they'll let you. No one's holding you on a chain."
When she said good-bye, Liudmilla kissed Sasha's forehead, and put her
hand to his lips--he had to kiss it. And Sasha was happy to kiss again
her white, gentle hand--and a little shy. And why not? But Liudmilla,
as she left, smiled archly and tenderly. And she looked back several
times.
"How charming she is," thought Sasha. He was left alone.
"How soon she left," he thought. "She suddenly went and it's hard to
realise that she's gone. She might have stayed a little longer." And he
felt ashamed that he had not offered to escort her. "It wouldn't have
been a bad idea to walk along with her," he thought. "Shall I run after
her? Has she gone far, I wonder. Perhaps if I run fast I might overtake
her."
"But perhaps she would laugh," he continued to himself. "And besides
she might not like it."
And so he could not make up his mind to go after her. He suddenly felt
depressed and uneasy. The gentle tremor from the contact of her hand
still remained on his lips, and on his forehead her kiss still burned.
"How gently she kisses," Sasha mused. "Like a sweet sister."
Sasha's cheeks burned. He felt deliciously ashamed. Vague reveries
stirred within him.
"If she were only my sister," thought Sasha tenderly, "then I might go
to her and kiss her and say an affectionate word. Then I might call her
'Liudmillotchka dearest,' or I might call her by some special pet-name:
'Booba' or 'Strekoza.' And she would respond. Now that would be a joy.
"But instead," thought Sasha sadly, "she's a stranger. Lovely, but
a stranger. She came and she went. And it's likely she's not even
thinking about me. And she's left behind her a sweet scent of rose and
lilac, and the feeling of two gentle kisses--and a vague movement in
the soul giving birth to a sweet vision as the waves gave birth to
Aphrodite."
* * * * *
Soon Kokovkina returned.
"Phew! how strong it smells here," she said.
Sasha blushed.
"Liudmillotchka was here," he said. "And she didn't find you at home,
so she sat a while and sprinkled me with scent and left."
"What tenderness!" said the old woman in astonishment, "and
Liudmillotchka too!"
Sasha laughed confusedly and ran into his own room. As for Kokovkina,
she thought that the Routilov sisters were very gay and affectionate
girls--and that they could captivate both the young and the old with
their affectionate ways.
* * * * *
On the next day, from the morning onward, Sasha felt happy because he
had been invited to the Routilovs. At home he waited impatiently for
lunch. After lunch, blushing with embarrassment, he asked permission
of Kokovkina to go to the Routilovs till seven o'clock. Kokovkina was
astonished but let him go. Sasha ran off gaily. He had carefully combed
his hair and put pomade on it. He felt happy and slightly nervous, as
one is before something important and pleasant. It pleased him to think
that he would come and kiss Liudmilla's hand and that she would kiss
his forehead--and then when he left the same kisses would be exchanged.
He thought with delight of Liudmilla's white gentle hand.
All the three sisters met Sasha in the hall. They liked to sit by the
window and look out on the street and that was why they saw him from
a distance. Gay, well-dressed, chattering, they surrounded him with
a noisy, impetuous gaiety--and he at once felt at ease with them and
quite happy.
"Here he is, the mysterious young person!" exclaimed Liudmilla.
Sasha kissed her hand and he did it gracefully and with great pleasure
to himself. At the same time he kissed Darya's hand and Valeria's--it
was impossible to pass them by--and found this also very agreeable. All
the more, since all three of them kissed his cheek. Darya kissed him
loudly and indifferently, as though he were a board; Valeria kissed him
gently, lowering her eyes with a sidelong glance, smiled slightly and
barely brushed him with her light lips--touching his cheek with the
faint colour of an apple--while Liudmilla gave him a gay, strong kiss.
"He's my visitor," she announced, as she took Sasha by the shoulders
and led him to her room.
Darya was rather annoyed at this.
"Ah, so he's yours. Well, you can go on kissing him!" she exclaimed.
"You've found a treasure. As if anyone would want to take him away from
you."
Valeria said nothing but only smiled--it was not interesting, after
all, to talk with a mere boy! What could he understand?
Liudmilla's room was spacious, cheerful and very light, because of two
large windows giving on to the garden; these were curtained with light,
yellow tulle. There was a perfume in the room. Everything was neat and
bright. The chairs and the arm-chairs were covered with a golden yellow
chintz, marked with a white almost indistinguishable pattern. Various
bottles of scents and scented waters, and small jars, boxes and fans
and several Russian and French books lay about the room.
"I saw you in a dream last night," Liudmilla began with a laugh. "You
were swimming in the river and I was sitting on the bridge and I caught
you with a fishing-rod."
"And I suppose you put me in a little jar?" asked Sasha jokingly.
"Why in a little jar?"
"Where, then?"
"Where? Why, I simply pulled you by the ears and threw you back in the
water." And Liudmilla laughed for a long time.
"You're a strange girl," said Sasha. "But what is it you were going to
tell me to-day?"
But Liudmilla went on laughing and did not reply.
"I see you've fooled me," said he. "And you also promised to show me
something," he said reproachfully.
"I'll show you! Would you like something to eat?" asked Liudmilla.
"I've had lunch," said Sasha. "But you are a deceiver."
"As if I needed to deceive you! But what a strong smell of pomade?"
Liudmilla suddenly exclaimed.
Sasha blushed.
"I can't stand pomade," said Liudmilla with annoyance. "You're smeared
up like a young lady!"
She ran her hand down his hair and struck his cheek with her
grease-smeared palm.
"Please don't you dare to use pomade," she said.
Sasha felt flustered.
"Very well, I won't do it," he said. "How severe you are! But you scent
yourself with perfumes!"
"Scents are one thing, but pomade is another, you stupid. A fine
comparison!" exclaimed Liudmilla. "I never pomade myself. Why should
one glue one's hair down! It's different with scents. Now, let me scent
you. Would you like it? Let us say lilac. Would you like it?"
"Yes, I would like it," said Sasha.
It was pleasant to think that he would take that scent home again and
astonish Kokovkina.
"Who would like it?" asked Liudmilla, taking the bottle and looking
archly at Sasha.
"I'd like it," repeated Sasha.
"You like it--so you bark do you?"[2] she teased him.
Sasha and Liudmilla both laughed.
"So you're not afraid that I'll suffocate you?" asked Liudmilla. "Do
you remember how you were afraid yesterday?"
"I wasn't afraid at all," replied Sasha hotly.
Liudmilla, smiling and still teasing the boy, began to sprinkle him
with lilac scent. Sasha thanked her and once more kissed her hand.
"And please you must get your hair cut," said Liudmilla sternly.
"What's the use of wearing long locks? You only frighten the horses."
"All right, I'll have my hair cut," agreed Sasha. "You're terribly
severe! My hair is very short. Not more than half an inch. The
inspector never grumbled at me for it."
"I like young people with short hair," said Liudmilla impressively, and
threatened him with her finger. "But I'm not an inspector, I've got to
be obeyed!"
* * * * *
From that time on Liudmilla made it a habit to go frequently to
Kokovkina--to see Sasha. She tried, especially at the beginning, to go
when Kokovkina was not at home. Sometimes she even tried little tricks
to lure the old woman out of the house. Darya once said to her:
"Ah, what a coward you are! You're afraid of an old woman. You'd better
go when she's at home and take him out for a walk."
Liudmilla followed this advice and began to call at odd times. If she
found Kokovkina at home she would sit with her for a while and then
take Sasha out for a walk, in which case she always kept him for a
short time only.
Liudmilla and Sasha became friends with a gentle yet not tranquil
friendship. Without noticing it herself Liudmilla had awakened in Sasha
premature though as yet vague inclinations and desires. Sasha often
kissed Liudmilla's hands and her thin, supple wrists, covered with a
soft elastic skin; through her thin yellow sleeve showed her frail,
sinuous, blue veins. And above were her long slender arms which could
be kissed to the very elbows when the sleeves were pushed back.
Sasha sometimes concealed from Kokovkina the fact that Liudmilla had
been to the house. He didn't lie about it, but he kept silent. It
was impossible for him to lie--as the maid-servant could easily have
contradicted him. And to remain silent about Liudmilla's visits was
also difficult for Sasha: Liudmilla's laughter echoed in his ears. He
wanted to talk about her. But to talk about her was somehow awkward.
Sasha quickly made friends with the other sisters also. He would
kiss their hands and soon even began to call the girls "Dashenka,"
"Liudmillotchka" and "Valerotchka."
[1] "Doosheet" means "to scent" and also "to suffocate."
[2] There is a pun here. The phrase "ti zhelayesh" means, "You like,
you want it." When split into three words, "ti zhe layesh," it means,
"You do bark."