Fyodor Dostoyevsky - THE COMPLETE WORKS OF FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY

“Surely you don’t expect him, Natasha?”

“No, he’s with her; I know. I sent to find out. How I should like to have a look at her, too…. Listen, Vanya, I’m talking nonsense, but is it really impossible for me to see her, is it impossible to meet her anywhere? What do you think?”

She waited anxiously to hear what I should say.

“You might see her. But simply to see her wouldn’t amount to much.”

“It would be enough for me only to see her; I should be able to tell then, for myself. Listen, I have become so stupid, you know. I walk up and down, up and down, here, always alone, always alone, always thinking; thoughts come rushing like a whirlwind! It’s so horrible! One thing I’ve thought of, Vanya; couldn’t you get to know her? You know the countess admired your novel (you said so yourself at the time). You sometimes go to Prince R—’s evenings; she’s sometimes there. Manage to be presented to her. Or perhaps Alyosha could introduce you. Then you could tell me all about her.”

“Natasha, dear, we’ll talk of that later. Tell me, do you seriously think you have the strength to face a separation? Look at yourself now; you’re not calm.”

“I … shall … have!” she answered, hardly audibly. “Anything for him. My whole life for his sake. But you know, Vanya, I can’t bear his being with her now, and having forgotten me; he is sitting by her, talking, laughing, as he used to sit here, do you remember? He’s looking into her eyes; he always does look at people like that — and it never occurs to him that I am here … with you.”

She broke off without finishing and looked at me in despair.

“Why, Natasha, only just now you were saying …”

“Let’s separate both at once, of our own accord,” she interrupted with flashing eyes. “I will give him my blessing for that … but it’s hard, Vanya, that he should forget me first! Ah, Vanya, what agony it is! I don’t understand myself. One thinks one thing, but it’s different when it comes to doing it. What will become of me!”

“Hush, hush, Natasha, calm yourself.”

“And now it’s five days. Every hour, every minute…. If I sleep I dream of nothing but him, nothing but him! I tell you what, Vanya, let’s go there. You take me!”

“Hush, Natasha!

“Yes, we will go! I’ve only been waiting for you! I’ve been thinking about it for the last three days. That was what I meant in my letter to you…. You must take me, you mustn’t refuse me this… I’ve been expecting you … for three days…. There’s a party there this evening…. He’s there … let us go!”

She seemed almost delirious. There was a noise in the passage Mavra seemed to be wrangling with some one.

“Stay, Natasha, who’s that?” I asked. “Listen.”

She listened with an incredulous smile, and suddenly turned fearfully white.

“My God! Who’s there?” she said, almost inaudibly.

She tried to detain me, but I went into the passage to Mavra. Yes! It actually was Alyosha. He was questioning Mavra about something. She refused at first to admit him.

“Where have you turned up from?” she asked, with an air of authority. “Well, what have you been up to? All right, then, go in, go in! You won’t come it over me with your butter! Go in! I wonder what you’ve to say for yourself!”

“I’m not afraid of anyone! I’m going in!” said Alyosha, somewhat disconcerted, however.

“Well, go in then! You’re a sauce-box!”

“Well, I’m going in! Ah! you’re here, too!” he said, catching sight of me. “How nice it is that you’re here Well, here I am, you see…. What had I better do?”

“Simply go in,” I answered. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything, I assure you, for upon my word I’m not to blame. You think I’m to blame? You’ll see; I’ll explain it directly. Natasha, can I come in?” he cried with a sort of assumed boldness, standing before the closed door. No one answered.

“What’s the matter?” he asked uneasily.

“Nothing; she was in there just now,” I answered. “Can anything …”

Alyosha opened the door cautiously and looked timidly about the room. There was no one to be seen.

Suddenly he caught sight of her in the corner, between the cupboard and the window. She stood as though in hiding, more dead than alive. As I recall it now I can’t help smiling. Alyosha went up to her slowly and warily.

“Natasha, what is it? How are you, Natasha?” he brought out timidly, looking at her with a sort of dismay.

“Oh, it’s all right!” she answered in terrible confusion, as though she were in fault. “You … will you have some tea?”

“Natasha, listen.” Alyosha began, utterly overwhelmed.

“You’re convinced perhaps that I’m to blame. But I’m not, not a bit. You’ll see; I’ll tell you directly.”

“What for?” Natasha whispered. “No, no, you needn’t…. Come, give me your hand and … it’s over … the same as before… .”

And she came out of the corner. A flush began to come into her cheeks. She looked down as though she were afraid to glance at Alyosha.

“Good God!” he cried ecstatically. “If I really were to blame I shouldn’t dare look at her after that. Look, look!” he exclaimed, turning to me, “she thinks I am to blame; everything’s against me; all appearances are against me! I haven’t been here for five days! There are rumours that I’m with my betrothed — and what? She has forgiven me already! Already she says, ‘Give me your hand and it’s over’! Natasha, my darling, my angel! It’s not my fault, and you must know that! Not the least little bit! Quite the contrary! Quite the contrary “But … but you were to be there now…. You were invited there now …. How is it you’re here? Wh-what time is it?”

“Half-past ten! I have been there … but I said I wasn’t well and came away — and — and it’s the first time, the first time I’ve been free these five days. It’s the first time I’ve been able to tear myself away and come to you, Natasha. That is, I could have come before, but I didn’t on purpose. And why? You shall know directly. I’ll explain; that’s just what I’ve come for, to explain. Only this time I’m really not a bit to blame, not a bit, not a bit!”

Natasha raised her head and looked at him…. But the eyes that met her were so truthful, his face was so full of joy, sincerity and goodhumour, that it was impossible to disbelieve him. I expected that they would cry out and rush into each other’s arms, as had often happened before at such reconciliations. But Natasha seemed overcome by her happiness; she let her head sink on her breast and … began crying softly…. Then Alyosha couldn’t restrain himself. He threw himself at her feet.

He kissed her hands, her feet. He seemed frantic. I pushed an easy-chair towards her. She sank into it. Her legs were giving way beneath her.

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A MINUTE LATER we were all laughing as though we were crazy.

“Let me explain; let me explain!” cried Alyosha, his ringing voice rising above our laughter. “They think it’s just as usual …that I’ve come with some nonsense…. I say, I’ve something most interesting to tell you. But will you ever be quiet?”

He was extremely anxious to tell his story. One could see from his face that he had important news. But the dignified air he assumed in his naive pride at the possession of such news tickled Natasha at once. I could not help laughing too. And the angrier he was with us the more we laughed. Alyosha’s vexation and then childish despair reduced us at last to the condition of Gogol’s midshipman who roared with laughter if one held up one’s finger. Mavra, coming out of the kitchen, stood in the doorway and looked at us with grave indignation, vexed that Alyosha had not come in for a good “wigging” from Natasha, as she had been eagerly anticipating for the last five days, and that we were all so merry instead.