Alexandr wanted to say something, but the old man had opened the door and almost shoved him out.
Alexandr went out in a condition of mind which my reader may imagine, if only he is not ashamed to put himself in his place for a minute. My hero's eyes were even glistening with tears, tears of shame, of anger with himself, and of despair.
" What have I to live for ? " he said aloud, " a loathsome, sickening life! But I — I . . . . no! if I have not strength of will enough to resist temptation .... at any
v/;
220 A COMMON STORY
rate I have the courage to cut short this useless, shameful existence."
With swift steps he made his way to the river. It was black, and thin, fantastic, misshapen shadows seemed to be hovering over its waters. The bank where Alexandr stood was shallow.
" One cannot even die here !" he said scornfully, and went to the bridge which was some hundred paces away. Alexandr leaned his elbows on the handrail on the middle of the bridge and continued to gaze into the water. He mentally took leave of life, gave a sigh to his mother, and a blessing to his aunt, and even forgave Nadinka. Tears of self-pity flowed down his cheeks, He covered his face with his hands. There is no knowing what he would have done, when suddenly the bridge began to shake a little under his feet; he looked round; merciful Heavens ! he was on the verge of destruction; the grave seemed yawning before him; half the bridge had smashed off and was swimming away .... the planks were breaking up—another moment and all would have been over ! He rallied all his forces and took a despairing leap .... to the safe side. Then he stopped, drew a breath and pressed his hand to his heart.
" Well, you have had a fright, I guess, sir ?" a keeper asked him.
i( Why, my good man, I all but fell in the middle of the river !" replied Alexandr in a shaking voice.
" God save us! accidents easily happen ?" said the keeper yawning; "last year a young bargeman lost his life like that."
Alexandr went home, his hand still pressed to his heart. From time to time he looked round at the river, and at the broken drawbridge, and quickly turned round shuddering and quickened his pace.
Meanwhile Liza had put on her most fascinating attire, and without taking any one, either father or nurse with her, she sat every evening till late at night under the tree.
The dark evenings came; she still waited; but no sight nor sound of her friends.
The autumn had come. The yellow leaves fell off the trees and strewed the banks; the green was fading; the river began to assume a leaden hue; the sky was always
grey; there was a cold wind with drizzling rain. The river and its banks were deserted; there was no sound of songs or laughter or ringing voices on the banks; boats and canoes no longer glided to and fro. Not a single insect hummed in the grass, not a bird chirped in the trees ; only the cawing of rooks depressed the spirit; and the fish had ceased to bite.
But Liza still waited ; it was absolutely necessary for her to speak to Alexandr, to reveal her secret to him. She still sat on the seat under the tree, wrapped in her jacket. She had grown thin ; her eyes were somewhat sunken; her face was wrapped up in a handkerchief. It was thus her father found her one day.
" Let us go, you have sat here enough," he said, frowning and shivering with the cold; " look, your fingers are blue, you are frozen. Liza ! do you hear? we will go." " Where ? "
" Home; we will go back to town to-day." " What for ? " she asked bewildered. "What for? autumn is coming on; we are the only people left in the country."
" Oh, dear !" she said, " it will be nice here even in the winter; let us stop."
" So that's your plan ! Enough, enough, let us go." c * Wait a little ! " she said in imploring tones, " fine days will come back even now."
" Listen !" replied her father, tapping her on the cheek and pointing to the spot where her friends used to fish; "they won't come back."
" They won't—come back!" she repeated in mournful, questioning tones, then she dropped her father's hand, and slowly with bent head walked home, from time to time turning to look back.
Adouev and Kostyakoff for a long time past had fished on the side furthest from that place.
CHAPTER XI
By degrees Alexandr succeeded in forgetting Liza and also the disagreeable scene with her father. He became calm again and even cheerful, and often laughed at KostyakofFs feeble jokes. He was amused by the man's point of view of life. They even made plans to go away somewhere further, to put up a hut on the river's bank where there were plenty of fish, and to pass the remainder of their days there. Alexandras soul again grew accustomed to grovelling in the mud of narrow ideas and material existence. But fate did not slumber, and he was not permitted to grovel there for ever.
In the autumn he received a note from his aunt with an urgent request that he would escort her to a concert since his uncle was not quite well. A musician was in Petersburg, of European celebrity.
" What ? a concert!" said Alexandr, greatly disturbed, " go to a concert, into the world, into the tinsel show of lies and hypocrisy—no, I will not go."
" It would cost five roubles too, I shouldn't wonder," remarked Kostyakoff who was present.
"The ticket costs fifteen roubles," said Alexandr, "but I would gladly give fifty not to go."
14 Fifteen!" cried Kostyakoff, clasping his hands, "what swindlers ! to come here to cheat and plunder us! Confound the lazy beggars ! Don't go, Alexandr Fedoritch, don't you be taken in ! If it were something or other worth having; if you could take it home, set it on the table or eat it; but only to listen and nothing to show for it; pay fifteen roubles ! One can get a pony for fifteen roubles!"
" Men will sometimes pay even more to spend an evening pleasantly," observed Alexandr.
" Spend an evening pleasantly! I'll tell you what! let's go to the baths, we shall spend an evening gloriously! Every time I feel bored I go there—and it's capital; you go at six o'clock and you leave at twelve and you warm your body and get scrubbed, and often you make some agreeable acquaintance; some priest, a merchant or an officer will come in; they will begin a conversation about trade, maybe, or the end of the world—and you won't come away! and all
for sixpence each ! They don't know where to spend the evening!"
But Alexandr did go. With a sigh he pulled out his evening suit of bygone years, which he had not put on for so long, and drew on a pair of white gloves.
"Gloves at five roubles brings it to twenty ! " Kostyakoff calculated up, as he was assisting at Adouev's toilet. "Twenty roubles wasted on one evening! Just for listening; as if that were something so wonderful! "
Adouev had got out of the way of dressing suitably. In the morning he went to the office in his comfortable official dress, in the evening he wore an old surtout or greatcoat. He felt ill at ease in his evening dress. Here it was too narrow, there too short; his neck felt too hot swathed in a silk handkerchief.
His aunt met him cordially, with a sense of gratitude to him for having determined for her sake to lay aside his misanthropy for once, but no word was spoken of his way of life and occupations. Having found a place in the hall for Lizaveta Alexandrovna, Adouev leaned against a column, under the shelter of a kindof broad-shouldered musical maniac and began to bd^Jorecfc He softly yawned behind his hand, but before he nacTtime to shut his mouth, an outburst of deafening applause announced the appearance of the musician. Alexandr did not even look at him.