Piotr Ivanitch made a pitiful face.
" * I am a married man,' he says," continued he. "' I have already three children, help me, I cannot keep them, I am a poor man ' .... a poor man ! what degradation! no, I hope you will not fall into either of these categories."
"I shall fall into the category of happy husbands, uncle, and Nadinka of happy wives. I don't want to be married, as the majority of people marry; they all have the same tale : ' My youth is over, I am tired of solitude, so I must marry !' I am not like that! "
" You are talking nonsense, my dear boy."
" How do you know ? "
"Because you are just like other people, and I have
known other people a long while. Come, tell me, why will you get married ? "
" Why ? Nadinka—my wife !" ejaculated Alexandr, covering His face with his hands.
" Well, you see—you don't know yourself."
" Oh the spirit swoons at the very thought. You don't know how I love her, uncle! I love her as no one ever loved before; with all the strength of my soul—all is hers."
" Really, Alexandr, I would rather have you ranting at me or even if it must be embracing me than repeating that very ridiculous phrase ! How it rolls off your tongue ! ' as no one ever loved before !'"
Piotr Ivanitch shrugged his shoulders.
" Why, do you mean that this cannot be ? "
" Indeed,- when I reflect on your love, I really think it is possible ; impossible for any love to be more foolish !" i " But she says that we must wait a vea^ t hat we are yo ung, J /and oughijo test ourselves—for a whole yeaf—^ndthen^—" year! a h! you should have told me that before !" interposed Piotr Ivanitch; "did she make that condition? What a sensible girl she is. How old is she ? n
u Eighteen."
"And you are twenty-three; well, my friend, she has twenty-three times as much sense as you. I see she understands the whole business: s he will amuse her self wit h you , flirt a little and have a good time ? and then—these little Tiuumes have "an intuition in such things! ffiell, s o""yog J w qjPt b e married then. I thought you wanteaTo Ilx n up* directly* and^gecfeHyT At your age such follies are so quickly done that one hasn't time to interfere; but in a year's a different thing; by that time she w ill jilt yo u."
She—jilt, flirt; little HTI53J7"tnc[eecn"she, JNadinka! for shame, uncle! Whom have you lived with all your life, whom have you had to do with, whom have you loved, that you have such black suspicions ? "
" I have lived with men, I have loved a woman."
" She deceive me! That angel, that very embodiment of sincerity, a woman, whom it seems as if God had for the
first time created in all the purity and brightness "
^ " Still she is a woman, and is certain to deceive you."
1 ' Will you tell me next that / shall j ilt her ? "
" In time—yes, you will too."
" I! of people you don't know you can conclude what you like; but me —isn't it a sin in you to suspect me of such vileness ? What do you imagine me to be ? "
" A man."
" All are not alike. You must know that I, not in jest, but in all sincerity have given her a promise to love her all my life; I am ready to confirm it upon oath."
" I kaow, I know! No decent man doubts the sincerity of the vows he makes to a woman, but afterwards he changes and grows cooler, and does not himself know how. It does not happen intentionally, and there is no vileness in it, no one is to blame; nature does not allow of eternal love. And those who believe in eternal and unchanging love do just the same as those who don't believe in it, only they don't notice it and are unwilling to recognise it; we are above that, they say, we are not men, but angels—all folly!"
" But how is it there are lovers, married people, who love one another for ever and live all their lives together ? "
" For ever ! if a man's love last a fortnight, he is called fickle, but if for two or three years—at once you say it is for ever! Only consider what love is made up of and then you will see for yourself that it is not for ever! The ardour, the fire and fever-heat of that emotion prevent its being continuous. Lovers, married people, live together all their lives —no doubt! but do they love each other all their lives ? are they always in the bondage of their first love? are they seeking one another every minute, constantly gazing at each other, and can they never see enough of one another ? In the end what becomes of the little observances, the constant attention, the thirst to be together, the tears, the transport, all the passionate glances ? The coldness and awkwardness of husbands has passed into a proverb. 'Their love has turned into friendship!' every one says very seriously ; well then ! it's no longer love! Friendship ! And what is this friendship? A husband and wife are bound together by general interests, circumstances, then common fortunes, and so they live together; if it is not so, then they separate, make new ties—some more quickly than others; then we talk of fickleness ! But if they go on living together they come to live by habit, which let me whisper in your ear is
stronger than any kind of love; it is well called second nature ; except for it men would continue all their lives to suffer from separation from or the death of the beloved object, but you see they are consoled in time. Still the everlasting repetition—For ever, for ever!—they shout it without thinking."
" How is it, un cle^ th at jgfijxe not afraid on your ovn account? If follows that your wife too—forgive me—will deCtilVti J6\i ? ^ -
*I don't think so/'
" What vanity 1 * ~ " It isn't vanity, but prudence."
" Prudence again !"
" Well, foresight if you like."
" But if she falls in love with some one else ? "
" One must not let it come to that; but even if she were so misguided, with a little skill one might cool down her feelings."
" Is it possible ? is it in your power? "
" Very much so."
" All deceived husbands would have done so," said Alex-andr, " if there were any means."
" Not all husbands are alike, my dear boy : some are very indifferent to their wives; they don't pay attention to what is going on around them and they don't care to notice it; others would be ready to from vanity, but are poor creatures; they don't know how to set to work."
" How will you set to work ? "
"That's my secret; one could not instil it into you; you are in delirium."
Piotr Ivanitch was silent, and went on writing.
" But what a life!" began Alexandr; " not to forget yourself, but always to be thinking—thinking—no, I feel this is not so! I want to live without your cold analysis, not thinking whether trouble and danger are awaiting me hereafter or not, it's all the same ! Why should I think of it beforehand and poison "
"Why! I have often told you why, but he always comes back to his same point. Because when you foresee danger, obstacles, trouble, then you can more easily oppose them or endure them; you will not go out of your mind; you won't die; and when pleasure comes, you won't
be dancing about and smashing busts—is it clear ? One tells him—here this is the beginning, look at it, and judge by it of the end; but he covers his eyes and turns away his head just as though it were some bogy, and goes on living like a child. You would say—live day by day, as men lived sitting at their cottage doors, reckon your life by dinners, dances, love, and unchanging friendship. Always wanting the golden age! I have told you already that with your ideas it's well to stay in the country with your good lady and half-a-dozen children, but here one must work at a business ; this means that you must incessantly be thinking and remembering what you did yesterday, what you are doing to-day, so as to know what you must do to-morrow— that is to say, you must live with never-flagging control of yourself and your occupations. It is only in this way we