Piotr Ivanitch knitted his brows a little at the last word.
" Have you been going in for * sincere outbursts,' pray ? " he said with irritation, " and now you want to drag me into it!"
" It's for the last time, however," said Lizaveta Alexandrovna. " I hope that after this he will be pacified."
Piotr Ivanitch shook his head incredulously.
" There's some one rang the bell, isn't it he ? What am I
t )
A COMMON STORY 151
to do ? tell me again : give him a lecture—what else; money ? "
" A lecture indeed! why, you'll make it worse. I asked you to talk a little of friendship, of affection, but more kindly, more sympathetically."
Alexandr made his bow in silence and in silence ate a hearty dinner, and between the courses rolled up little pellets of bread and looked from under his eyebrows at the bottles and decanters. After dinner he was going to take his hat again.
" Where are you off to ? " said Piotr Ivanitch, " sit with us a little."
Alexandr obeyed in silence. Piotr Ivanitch thought how he could approach the subject in a gentle and discreet manner, and at once asked, speaking briskly: " I have heard, Alexandr, that your friend has treated you badly in some way ? "
At these unexpected words Alexandr drew back his head, as though he had been wounded, and bent a gaze full of reproach upon his aunt. She too had not anticipated such a crude opening of the subject, and at first let her head droop over her work, then looked also with reproach at her husband; bat he was under the combined influence of digestion and drowsiness, and did not perceive the import of these looks.
Alexandr answered his question by a scarcely audible sigh.
" Seriously," continued Piotr Ivanitch, " what treachery! what a friend ! he had not seen him for five years, and when they met he did not smother his friend with embraces, but invited him in the evening, tried to make him play cards, and to give him supper. And then—treacherous creature !—noticed the sulky looks on his friend's face, and set to questioning him about his affairs, his circumstances, his needs—what base curiosity ! no sincere outpourings! awful! awful! Please let me see this monster, bring him on Friday to dine ! But what stakes does he play for?"
" I don't know," said Alexandr angrily. " You may laugh,
uncle; you are right; I alone am to blame. To believe
in men—to seek sympathy—in whom ? to cast pearls—
I before whom ? All around me is baseness, cowardice,
* pettiness, and I still kept my youthful faith in goodness,
Piotr Ivanitch was tranquilly beginning to nod.
" Piotr Ivanitch!" said Lizaveta Alexandrovna sotte voce, taking his hand, " you are asleep ? "
" Me asleep! " said Piotr Ivanitch, rousing himself. " I heard everything—' virtue, constancy ;' when did I fall asleep ? "
" Don't disturb my uncle, ma tante? remarked Alexandr; "he won't go to sleep, then his digestion will be deranged, and man is lord of creation, no doubt, but he is also the slave of his stomach. 1 '
At this he tried to smile bitterly, but only succeeded in smiling sourly.
" Tell me what you wanted from your friend ? sacrifices of some sort, I suppose; did you want him to climb over a wall or jump out of a window ? How do you understand friendship ? " asked Piotr Ivanitch.
" Now I ask no sacrifices—don't alarm yourself. Thanks to others, I have been brought down to a pitiful comprehension of friendship as well as of grief," said Alexandr. " I feel in myself the power of loving and I am proud of it. My unhappiness only results from my not having met a creature capable of such love and endowed with the power of loving."
" Power of loving ! " repeated Piotr Ivanitch a it's just as if you said the power of weakness."
" It's not your way, Piotr Ivanitch" observed Lizaveta Alexandrovna; " you are not willing to believe in the existence of such love even in others."
" And you, is it possible you believe in it ?" demanded Piotr Ivanitch, going up to her; " but no ! you are joking! Do men love in that sentimental way ? "
Lizaveta Alexandrovna paused in her work. "How then?" she asked in an undertone, taking his hand and drawing him to her.
Piotr Ivanitch quietly loosened his hand from hers and pointed at Alexandr, who was standing at the window with his back to them and then began again his interrupted pacing of the room.
" How !" he said, " as though you had not heard how men love!"
" Oh, they love!" she repeated gloomily, and slowly took up her work again. .
The silence lasted a quarter of an hour. Piotr Ivanitch was the first to break it.
" You are rather bitter against men. Is it your love for that—what's-her-name ? has made you so ? "
" Oh! I had really forgotten about that foolishness."
" You see, it's just as I told you. What has made you so averse to men in general ? "
" What indeed! Their baseness, their pettiness of soul."
" But what concern is it of yours ? Do you want to correct mankind, pray ? "
"What concern of mine? Am not I myself bespattered by the filth in which mankind is wallowing ? You know what has been my experience— after all that, how can I help hating, despising my fellow-creatures !"
"What has been your experience ?"
" Infidelity in love, hard, cold neglect in friendship."
" You've an attack of the spleen ! You ought to busy yourself with work," said Piotr Ivanitch, " then you won't abuse mankind for nothing. What's wrong with the people j you know ? they're all decent people."
Alexandr made a gesture of supreme disgust. /^r *Jf£Well, but what of yourself?" asked Piotr Ivanitch.
"I have done no harm to my fellow-men!" Alexandr retorted with dignity, " I have a loving heart; I opened my eyes wide to people, but how have they treated me?"
"What next! how ridiculously he talks!" observed Piotr Ivanitch turning to his wife.
" Everything is ridiculous to you !" she replied.
" And I myself did not ask from people," continued Alexandr, " either heroic achievements, or greatness of soul, or self-sacrifice. I only asked what was my due by every right."
"So you are all right? You have come out of things quite unspotted. Allow me to show it in a fresh light."
Lizaveta Alexandrovna noticed that her husband was beginning to speak in a stern voice and she trembled.
" Piotr Ivanitch," she whispered, " do stop."
" No, let him hear the truth. I will finish in a minute. Kindly tell me, Alexandr, when you stigmatised all your friends as cold and neglectful, did you feel something uneasy in your heart like a prick of conscience ? "
« Why, uncle ? "
" Oh, well, let us go a step further. You say you have no friends, but I always thought you had three."
" Three ?" cried Alexandr, " I once had one and he "
" Three," repeated Piotr Ivanitch persistently.
"The first—let us begin with the oldest—is this one. Any other man after not having seen you for some years, would have turned his back on you, but he invited you to go and see him, and when you arrived with sulky looks, he asked you sympathetically, whether you were in want of anything, began to offer you his services and his help, and I'm convinced he would have given you money—yes ! in our times not every feeling stands that test; no, you must make me acquainted with him; I see he's a good fellow .... though you think him a traitor."
Alexandr stood with downcast head.
" Well, and who do you thin^c is your second friend ?" asked Piotr Ivanitch.
" Who ? " repeated Alexandr quite at a loss, " why, no one."
" He's no conscience ! " broke in Piotr Ivanitch, " eh ? Liza, and he doesn't blush ! and what am I reckoned for, allow me to ask? It's too bad, Alexandr; this is a trait which even in school copy-books is called base?