Ivan Goncharov - Oblomov / Обломов. Книга для чтения на английском языке

«What relative? I have no relative», Alexeyev said timidly, staring in surprise at Tarantyev.

«Why, that fellow – what do you call him? The fellow who’s in the Civil Service – Afanasyev. You don’t mean to say he’s no relative of yours? Of course he is!»

«But I’m not Afanasyev – I’m Alexeyev», said Alexeyev. «I have no relatives».

«What do you mean – no relative? Why, he’s just as poor a specimen as you are – and his name’s also Vassily Nikolayevich».

«I swear he’s no relation of mine. My name is Ivan Alexeyich».

«Makes no difference. He looks like you. But he’s a swine. You tell him so when you see him».

«I don’t know him», said Alexeyev, opening his snuff-box. «Never seen him».

«Let’s have a pinch of your snuff», said Tarantyev. «Why, yours is ordinary snuff, not French! Yes, so it is», he said, taking a pinch. «Why isn’t it French?» he added sternly. «I’ve never met a swine like that relative of yours», he went on. «I borrowed fifty roubles from him about two years ago. Fifty roubles – not such a big sum, is it? You might have expected him to forget it. But not at all – he remembered. A month later he began pestering me, asking me every time he met me: „What about that loan?“ I got sick and tired of the sight of him. And as if that wasn’t enough, he barged into my office yesterday. „I expect,“ he said, „you’ve got your salary to-day and can repay me now.“ My salary, indeed! I told him off properly in front of everybody and he was glad to get out, I can tell you. „I’m a poor man,“ he said, „I need the money!“ As if I didn’t need it! Who does he take me for? A rich man, to give him fifty roubles every time he asks for it? Let’s have a cigar, old man!»

«You’ll find the cigars in the box there», replied Oblomov, pointing to a bookcase.

He was sitting pensively in the arm-chair in his customary picturesquely lazy pose, not noticing what was happening round him or listening to what was being said. He was examining his small white hands and stroking them lovingly.

«I say, they’re still the same!» Tarantyev observed sternly, taking out a cigar and looking at Oblomov.

«Yes, they’re the same», Oblomov replied absent-mindedly.

«But didn’t I tell you to buy the others – foreign ones? So that’s how you remember what is said to you! Mind you get some by next Saturday or you won’t see me here for a long time. Good Lord, what horrible stuff!» he went on, lighting a cigar, and letting out one cloud of smoke into the room, he inhaled another. «Can’t smoke it».

«You’ve come early to-day, Tarantyev», said Oblomov, yawning.

«Why? You’re not getting tired of me, are you?»

«No, I just mentioned it. You usually come in time for dinner, and now it’s only just gone twelve».

«I’ve come earlier on purpose to find out what there is for dinner. Your food is so awful as a rule that I thought I’d better find out what you’ve ordered for to-day».

«You’d better ask in the kitchen», said Oblomov.

Tarantyev went out.

«Good heavens!» he said, returning. «Beef and veal! The trouble with you, old man, is that you don’t know how to live – a landowner, forsooth! What sort of a gentleman are you? You look like a shopkeeper – you’ve no idea how to treat a friend! Have you bought any Madeira at least?»

«Don’t know, you’d better ask Zakhar», said Oblomov, hardly listening to him. «I expect they must have some wine there».

«You mean the same wine as before – from the German? Really, my dear fellow, you ought to buy some in the English shop».

«Oh, it’ll have to do», said Oblomov. «Don’t want to send out for it».

«But look here, give me the money and I’ll fetch it. I have to go past the shop anyway. I’ve still to make another call».

Oblomov rummaged in the drawer and produced a red ten-rouble note.

«Madeira costs seven roubles, and this is ten», said Oblomov.

«Let’s have it all. Don’t be afraid – they’ll give me the change at the shop».

He snatched the note from Oblomov’s hand and quickly hid it in his pocket.

«Well», said Tarantyev, putting on his hat. «I’ll be back by five o’clock. I have a call to make: I’ve been promised a job in a spirits depot and they asked me to look in. By the way, my dear fellow, won’t you hire a carriage to go to Yekaterinhof to-day? You might take me with you».

Oblomov shook his head.

«Why not? Are you too lazy, or do you grudge the money? Oh, you sluggard!» he said. «Well, good-bye for the present».

«Wait, Tarantyev», Oblomov interrupted him. «I want to ask your advice».

«What is it? Come on, out with it! I’m in a hurry».

«Well, two misfortunes have befallen me, all at once. I have to move…»

«Serves you right. Why don’t you pay your rent?» said Tarantyev, turning to go.

«Good Lord, no! I always pay in advance. No, they’re going to convert this flat. Wait a moment. Where are you off to? Tell me what I am to do. They rush me. They want me to move within a week».

«What sort of advice do you expect me to give you? You needn’t imagine…»

«I don’t imagine anything», said Oblomov. «Don’t shout. Better think what I am to do. You’re a practical man…»

But Tarantyev was no longer listening to him. He was thinking of something.

«Well», he said, taking off his hat and sitting down. «All right, you may thank me and order champagne for dinner. Your business is settled».

«What do you mean?» asked Oblomov.

«Will there be champagne?»

«Perhaps, if your advice is worth it».

«Aye, but you’re not worth the advice. You don’t imagine I’ll give you advice for nothing, do you? There, you can ask him», he added, pointing to Alexeyev, «or his relative».

«All right, all right, tell me», Oblomov begged.

«Now, listen: you must move to-morrow».

«Good Lord, what an idea! I knew that myself».

«Wait, don’t interrupt», Tarantyev shouted. «To-morrow you will move to the flat of a good friend of mine in Vyborg».

«What nonsense is that! Vyborg! Why, they say wolves roam the streets there in winter!»

«Oh, well, they do come there sometimes from the islands, but what has that got to do with you?»

«But it’s such a dull place – a wilderness, no one lives there».

«Nonsense! A good friend of mine lives there. She has a house of her own with big kitchen gardens. She is a gentlewoman, a widow with two children. Her unmarried brother lives with her. He’s a clever fellow, not like that chap in the corner there», he said, pointing to Alexeyev. «He’s a damn sight more intelligent than you or I».

«What has that got to do with me?» Oblomov said impatiently. «I’m not going to move there».

«We shall see about that. No, sir, if you ask for my advice, you have to do as I tell you».

«I’m not going there», Oblomov said firmly.

«To hell with you, then», replied Tarantyev, and, pulling his hat over his eyes, walked to the door.

«You funny fellow», Tarantyev said, coming back. «Do you find it so pleasant here?»

«Pleasant? Why it’s so near to everything», Oblomov said. «To the shops, the theatre, my friends – it’s the centre of the city, everything…»

«Wha-at?» Tarantyev interrupted him. «And how long is it since you went out? Tell me that. How long is it since you went to a theatre? Who are the friends you visit? Why the hell do you want to live in the centre of the city, pray?»

«What do you mean, why? For lots of reasons».

«You see, you don’t know yourself. But there – why, think of it: you’ll live in the house of a gentlewoman, a good friend of mine, in peace and quiet. No one to disturb you – no noise, clean and tidy. Why, you live here just as at an inn – you, a gentleman, a landowner! But there everything is clean and quiet, and there’s always someone to talk to if you’re bored. Except me, no one will come to visit you there. Two children – play about with them to your heart’s content. What more do you want? And think what you will save! What do you pay here?»