In general, I was beginning to get the better of my youthful defects,
with the exception of the principal one--the one of which I shall often
again have to speak in relating my life's history--namely, the tendency
to abstract thought.
XXV. WOLODA'S FRIENDS
Although, when in the society of Woloda's friends, I had to play a part
that hurt my pride, I liked sitting in his room when he had visitors,
and silently watching all they did. The two who came most frequently
to see him were a military adjutant called Dubkoff and a student named
Prince Nechludoff. Dubkoff was a little dark-haired, highly-strung man
who, though short of stature and no longer in his first youth, had
a pleasing and invariably cheerful air. His was one of those limited
natures which are agreeable through their very limitations; natures
which cannot regard matters from every point of view, but which are
nevertheless attracted by everything. Usually the reasoning of such
persons is false and one-sided, yet always genuine and taking; wherefore
their narrow egotism seems both amiable and excusable. There were two
other reasons why Dubkoff had charms for Woloda and myself--namely,
the fact that he was of military appearance, and, secondly (and
principally), the fact that he was of a certain age--an age with which
young people are apt to associate that quality of "gentlemanliness"
which is so highly esteemed at their time of life. However, he was in
very truth un homme comme il faut. The only thing which I did not like
about it all was that, in his presence, Woloda always seemed ashamed
of my innocent behaviour, and still more so of my youthfulness. As for
Prince Nechludoff, he was in no way handsome, since neither his small
grey eyes, his low, projecting forehead, nor his disproportionately long
hands and feet could be called good features. The only good points about
him were his unusually tall stature, his delicate colouring, and
his splendid teeth. Nevertheless, his face was of such an original,
energetic character (owing to his narrow, sparkling eyes and
ever-changing expression--now stern, now childlike, now smiling
indeterminately) that it was impossible to help noticing it. As a rule
he was very shy, and would blush to the ears at the smallest trifle, but
it was a shyness altogether different from mine, seeing that, the more
he blushed, the more determined-looking he grew, as though he were vexed
at his own weakness.
Although he was on very good terms with Woloda and Dubkoff, it was
clearly chance which had united them thus, since their tastes were
entirely dissimilar. Woloda and Dubkoff seemed to be afraid of anything
like serious consideration or emotion, whereas Nechludoff was beyond all
things an enthusiast, and would often, despite their sarcastic remarks,
plunge into dissertations on philosophical matters or matters of
feeling. Again, the two former liked talking about the fair objects of
their adoration (these were always numerous, and always shared by the
friends in common), whereas Nechludoff invariably grew annoyed when
taxed with his love for a certain red-haired lady.
Again, Woloda and Dubkoff often permitted themselves to criticise their
relatives, and to find amusement in so doing, but Nechludoff flew into
a tremendous rage when on one occasion they referred to some weak points
in the character of an aunt of his whom he adored. Finally, after supper
Woloda and Dubkoff would usually go off to some place whither Nechludoff
would not accompany them; wherefore they called him "a dainty girl."
The very first time that I ever saw Prince Nechludoff I was struck
with his exterior and conversation. Yet, though I could discern a great
similarity between his disposition and my own (or perhaps it was because
I COULD so discern it), the impression which he produced upon me at
first was anything but agreeable. I liked neither his quick glance, his
hard voice, his proud bearing, nor (least of all) the utter indifference
with which he treated me. Often, when conversing, I burned to contradict
him, to punish his pride by confuting him, to show him that I was clever
in spite of his disdainful neglect of my presence. But I was invariably
prevented from doing so by my shyness.
XXVI. DISCUSSIONS
Woloda was lying reading a French novel on the sofa when I paid my usual
visit to his room after my evening lessons. He looked up at me for a
moment from his book, and then went on reading. This perfectly simple
and natural movement, however, offended me. I conceived that the glance
implied a question why I had come and a wish to hide his thoughts from
me (I may say that at that period a tendency to attach a meaning to the
most insignificant of acts formed a prominent feature in my character).
So I went to the table and also took up a book to read. Yet, even before
I had actually begun reading, the idea struck me how ridiculous it was
that, although we had never seen one another all day, we should have not
a word to exchange.
"Are you going to stay in to-night, Woloda?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Oh, because--" Seeing that the conversation did not promise to be
a success, I took up my book again, and began to read. Yet it was a
strange thing that, though we sometimes passed whole hours together
without speaking when we were alone, the mere presence of a
third--sometimes of a taciturn and wholly uninteresting person--sufficed
to plunge us into the most varied and engrossing of discussions. The
truth was that we knew one another too well, and to know a person either
too well or too little acts as a bar to intimacy.
"Is Woloda at home?" came in Dubkoff's voice from the ante-room.
"Yes!" shouted Woloda, springing up and throwing aside his book.
Dubkoff and Nechludoff entered.
"Are you coming to the theatre, Woloda?"
"No, I have no time," he replied with a blush.
"Oh, never mind that. Come along."
"But I haven't got a ticket."
"Tickets, as many as you like, at the entrance."
"Very well, then; I'll be back in a minute," said Woloda evasively as
he left the room. I knew very well that he wanted to go, but that he
had declined because he had no money, and had now gone to borrow five
roubles of one of the servants--to be repaid when he got his next
allowance.
"How do you do, DIPLOMAT?" said Dubkoff to me as he shook me by the
hand. Woloda's friends had called me by that nickname since the day when
Grandmamma had said at luncheon that Woloda must go into the army, but
that she would like to see me in the diplomatic service, dressed in a
black frock-coat, and with my hair arranged a la coq (the two essential
requirements, in her opinion, of a DIPLOMAT).
"Where has Woloda gone to?" asked Nechludoff.
"I don't know," I replied, blushing to think that nevertheless they had
probably guessed his errand.
"I suppose he has no money? Yes, I can see I am right, O diplomatist,"
he added, taking my smile as an answer in the affirmative. "Well, I have
none, either. Have you any, Dubkoff?"
"I'll see," replied Dubkoff, feeling for his pocket, and rummaging
gingerly about with his squat little fingers among his small change.
"Yes, here are five copecks-twenty, but that's all," he concluded with a