handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe away a few tears which had stolen
down her cheeks, she went, on:
"Yes, my friend, I often think that he cannot value and understand
her properly, and that, for all her goodness and love of him and her
endeavours to conceal her grief (which, however as I know only too well,
exists). She cannot really be happy with him. Mark my words if he does
not--" Here Grandmamma buried her face in the handkerchief.
"Ah, my dear old friend," said the Prince reproachfully. "I think you
are unreasonable. Why grieve and weep over imagined evils? That is
not right. I have known him a long time, and feel sure that he is an
attentive, kind, and excellent husband, as well as (which is the chief
thing of all) a perfectly honourable man."
At this point, having been an involuntary auditor of a conversation
not meant for my ears, I stole on tiptoe out of the room, in a state of
great distress.
XIX -- THE IWINS
"Woloda, Woloda! The Iwins are just coming." I shouted on seeing from
the window three boys in blue overcoats, and followed by a young tutor,
advancing along the pavement opposite our house.
The Iwins were related to us, and of about the same age as ourselves. We
had made their acquaintance soon after our arrival in Moscow. The second
brother, Seriosha, had dark curly hair, a turned-up, strongly pronounced
nose, very bright red lips (which, never being quite shut, showed a
row of white teeth), beautiful dark-blue eyes, and an uncommonly bold
expression of face. He never smiled but was either wholly serious or
laughing a clear, merry, agreeable laugh. His striking good looks had
captivated me from the first, and I felt an irresistible attraction
towards him. Only to see him filled me with pleasure, and at one time my
whole mental faculties used to be concentrated in the wish that I
might do so. If three or four days passed without my seeing him I felt
listless and ready to cry. Awake or asleep, I was forever dreaming of
him. On going to bed I used to see him in my dreams, and when I had
shut my eyes and called up a picture of him I hugged the vision as
my choicest delight. So much store did I set upon this feeling for my
friend that I never mentioned it to any one. Nevertheless, it must have
annoyed him to see my admiring eyes constantly fixed upon him, or else
he must have felt no reciprocal attraction, for he always preferred to
play and talk with Woloda. Still, even with that I felt satisfied, and
wished and asked for nothing better than to be ready at any time to make
any sacrifice for him. Likewise, over and above the strange fascination
which he exercised upon me, I always felt another sensation, namely,
a dread of making him angry, of offending him, of displeasing him. Was
this because his face bore such a haughty expression, or because I,
despising my own exterior, over-rated the beautiful in others, or,
lastly (and most probably), because it is a common sign of affection?
At all events, I felt as much fear, of him as I did love. The first time
that he spoke to me I was so overwhelmed with sudden happiness that I
turned pale, then red, and could not utter a word. He had an ugly habit
of blinking when considering anything seriously, as well as of twitching
his nose and eyebrows. Consequently every one thought that this habit
marred his face. Yet I thought it such a nice one that I involuntarily
adopted it for myself, until, a few days after I had made his
acquaintance, Grandmamma suddenly asked me whether my eyes were hurting
me, since I was winking like an owl! Never a word of affection passed
between us, yet he felt his power over me, and unconsciously but
tyrannically, exercised it in all our childish intercourse. I used to
long to tell him all that was in my heart, yet was too much afraid of
him to be frank in any way, and, while submitting myself to his will,
tried to appear merely careless and indifferent. Although at times his
influence seemed irksome and intolerable, to throw it off was beyond my
strength.
I often think with regret of that fresh, beautiful feeling of boundless,
disinterested love which came to an end without having ever found
self-expression or return. It is strange how, when a child, I always
longed to be like grown-up people, and yet how I have often longed,
since childhood's days, for those days to come back to me! Many times,
in my relations with Seriosha, this wish to resemble grown-up people
put a rude check upon the love that was waiting to expand, and made me
repress it. Not only was I afraid of kissing him, or of taking his hand
and saying how glad I was to see him, but I even dreaded calling him
"Seriosha" and always said "Sergius" as every one else did in our
house. Any expression of affection would have seemed like evidence of
childishness, and any one who indulged in it, a baby. Not having yet
passed through those bitter experiences which enforce upon older years
circumspection and coldness, I deprived myself of the pure delight of
a fresh, childish instinct for the absurd purpose of trying to resemble
grown-up people.
I met the Iwins in the ante-room, welcomed them, and then ran to tell
Grandmamma of their arrival with an expression as happy as though she
were certain to be equally delighted. Then, never taking my eyes off
Seriosha, I conducted the visitors to the drawing-room, and eagerly
followed every movement of my favourite. When Grandmamma spoke to
and fixed her penetrating glance upon him, I experienced that mingled
sensation of pride and solicitude which an artist might feel when
waiting for revered lips to pronounce a judgment upon his work.
With Grandmamma's permission, the Iwins' young tutor, Herr Frost,
accompanied us into the little back garden, where he seated himself
upon a bench, arranged his legs in a tasteful attitude, rested his
brass-knobbed cane between them, lighted a cigar, and assumed the air
of a man well-pleased with himself. He was a German, but of a very
different sort to our good Karl Ivanitch. In the first place, he spoke
both Russian and French correctly, though with a hard accent Indeed,
he enjoyed--especially among the ladies--the reputation of being a very
accomplished fellow. In the second place, he wore a reddish moustache,
a large gold pin set with a ruby, a black satin tie, and a very
fashionable suit. Lastly, he was young, with a handsome, self-satisfied
face and fine muscular legs. It was clear that he set the greatest store
upon the latter, and thought them beyond compare, especially as regards
the favour of the ladies. Consequently, whether sitting or standing, he
always tried to exhibit them in the most favourable light. In short,
he was a type of the young German-Russian whose main desire is to be
thought perfectly gallant and gentlemanly.
In the little garden merriment reigned. In fact, the game of "robbers"
never went better. Yet an incident occurred which came near to spoiling
it. Seriosha was the robber, and in pouncing upon some travellers he
fell down and knocked his leg so badly against a tree that I thought
the leg must be broken. Consequently, though I was the gendarme and
therefore bound to apprehend him, I only asked him anxiously, when I
reached him, if he had hurt himself very much. Nevertheless this threw
him into a passion, and made him exclaim with fists clenched and in a