dance. See," she added on perceiving myself, "here is a cavalier ready
waiting for you."
Sonetchka gave me her hand, and we darted off to the salon. The wine,
added to Sonetchka's presence and gaiety, had at once made me forget
all about the unfortunate end of the mazurka. I kept executing the most
splendid feats with my legs--now imitating a horse as he throws out his
hoofs in the trot, now stamping like a sheep infuriated at a dog, and
all the while laughing regardless of appearances.
Sonetchka also laughed unceasingly, whether we were whirling round in
a circle or whether we stood still to watch an old lady whose painful
movements with her feet showed the difficulty she had in walking.
Finally Sonetchka nearly died of merriment when I jumped half-way to the
ceiling in proof of my skill.
As I passed a mirror in Grandmamma's boudoir and glanced at myself
I could see that my face was all in a perspiration and my hair
dishevelled--the top-knot, in particular, being more erect than ever.
Yet my general appearance looked so happy, healthy, and good-tempered
that I felt wholly pleased with myself.
"If I were always as I am now," I thought, "I might yet be able to
please people with my looks." Yet as soon as I glanced at my partner's
face again, and saw there not only the expression of happiness, health,
and good temper which had just pleased me in my own, but also a fresh
and enchanting beauty besides, I felt dissatisfied with myself again.
I understood how silly of me it was to hope to attract the attention
of such a wonderful being as Sonetchka. I could not hope for
reciprocity--could not even think of it, yet my heart was overflowing
with happiness. I could not imagine that the feeling of love which was
filling my soul so pleasantly could require any happiness still greater,
or wish for more than that that happiness should never cease. I felt
perfectly contented. My heart beat like that of a dove, with the blood
constantly flowing back to it, and I almost wept for joy.
As we passed through the hall and peered into a little dark store-room
beneath the staircase I thought: "What bliss it would be if I could pass
the rest of my life with her in that dark corner, and never let anybody
know that we were there!"
"It HAS been a delightful evening, hasn't it?" I asked her in a low,
tremulous voice. Then I quickened my steps--as much out of fear of what
I had said as out of fear of what I had meant to imply.
"Yes, VERY!" she answered, and turned her face to look at me with an
expression so kind that I ceased to be afraid. I went on:
"Particularly since supper. Yet if you could only know how I regret" (I
had nearly said) "how miserable I am at your going, and to think that
we shall see each other no more!"
"But why SHOULDN'T we?" she asked, looking gravely at the corner of
her pocket-handkerchief, and gliding her fingers over a latticed screen
which we were passing. "Every Tuesday and Friday I go with Mamma to the
Iverskoi Prospect. I suppose you go for walks too sometimes?"
"Well, certainly I shall ask to go for one next Tuesday, and, if they
won't take me I shall go by myself--even without my hat, if necessary. I
know the way all right."
"Do you know what I have just thought of?" she went on. "You know, I
call some of the boys who come to see us THOU. Shall you and I call each
other THOU too? Wilt THOU?" she added, bending her head towards me and
looking me straight in the eyes.
At this moment a more lively section of the Grosvater dance began.
"Give me your hand," I said, under the impression that the music and din
would drown my exact words, but she smilingly replied, "THY hand, not
YOUR hand." Yet the dance was over before I had succeeded in saying
THOU, even though I kept conning over phrases in which the pronoun could
be employed--and employed more than once. All that I wanted was the
courage to say it.
"Wilt THOU?" and "THY hand" sounded continually in my ears, and caused
in me a kind of intoxication I could hear and see nothing but Sonetchka.
I watched her mother take her curls, lay them flat behind her ears (thus
disclosing portions of her forehead and temples which I had not yet
seen), and wrap her up so completely in the green shawl that nothing was
left visible but the tip of her nose. Indeed, I could see that, if her
little rosy fingers had not made a small, opening near her mouth, she
would have been unable to breathe. Finally I saw her leave her mother's
arm for an instant on the staircase, and turn and nod to us quickly
before she disappeared through the doorway.
Woloda, the Iwins, the young Prince Etienne, and myself were all of us
in love with Sonetchka and all of us standing on the staircase to follow
her with our eyes. To whom in particular she had nodded I do not know,
but at the moment I firmly believed it to be myself. In taking leave
of the Iwins, I spoke quite unconcernedly, and even coldly, to Seriosha
before I finally shook hands with him. Though he tried to appear
absolutely indifferent, I think that he understood that from that day
forth he had lost both my affection and his power over me, as well as
that he regretted it.
XXIV -- IN BED
"How could I have managed to be so long and so passionately devoted to
Seriosha?" I asked myself as I lay in bed that night. "He never either
understood, appreciated, or deserved my love. But Sonetchka! What a
darling SHE is! 'Wilt THOU?'--'THY hand'!"
I crept closer to the pillows, imagined to myself her lovely face,
covered my head over with the bedclothes, tucked the counterpane in on
all sides, and, thus snugly covered, lay quiet and enjoying the warmth
until I became wholly absorbed in pleasant fancies and reminiscences.
If I stared fixedly at the inside of the sheet above me I found that I
could see her as clearly as I had done an hour ago could talk to her in
my thoughts, and, though it was a conversation of irrational tenor, I
derived the greatest delight from it, seeing that "THOU" and "THINE" and
"for THEE" and "to THEE" occurred in it incessantly. These fancies were
so vivid that I could not sleep for the sweetness of my emotion, and
felt as though I must communicate my superabundant happiness to some
one.
"The darling!" I said, half-aloud, as I turned over; then, "Woloda, are
you asleep?"
"No," he replied in a sleepy voice. "What's the matter?"
"I am in love, Woloda--terribly in love with Sonetchka"
"Well? Anything else?" he replied, stretching himself.
"Oh, but you cannot imagine what I feel just now, as I lay covered over
with the counterpane, I could see her and talk to her so clearly that
it was marvellous! And, do you know, while I was lying thinking about
her--I don't know why it was, but all at once I felt so sad that I could
have cried."
Woloda made a movement of some sort.
"One thing only I wish for," I continued; "and that is that I could
always be with her and always be seeing her. Just that. You are in love
too, I believe. Confess that you are."
It was strange, but somehow I wanted every one to be in love with
Sonetchka, and every one to tell me that they were so.
"So that's how it is with you? " said Woloda, turning round to me.