I galloping near it, and vieing with one another in our exhibition of
horsemanship and daring. My shadow looked longer now than it had done
before, and from that I judged that I had grown into a fine rider. Yet
my complacency was soon marred by an unfortunate occurrence. Desiring
to outdo Woloda before the audience in the carriage, I dropped a little
behind. Then with whip and spur I urged my steed forward, and at the
same time assumed a natural, graceful attitude, with the intention of
whooting past the carriage on the side on which Katenka was seated. My
only doubt was whether to halloo or not as I did so. In the event, my
infernal horse stopped so abruptly when just level with the carriage
horses that I was pitched forward on to its neck and cut a very sorry
figure!
X -- THE SORT OF MAN MY FATHER WAS
Papa was a gentleman of the last century, with all the chivalrous
character, self-reliance, and gallantry of the youth of that time. Upon
the men of the present day he looked with a contempt arising partly from
inborn pride and partly from a secret feeling of vexation that, in this
age of ours, he could no longer enjoy the influence and success which
had been his in his youth. His two principal failings were gambling and
gallantry, and he had won or lost, in the course of his career, several
millions of roubles.
Tall and of imposing figure, he walked with a curiously quick, mincing
gait, as well as had a habit of hitching one of his shoulders. His eyes
were small and perpetually twinkling, his nose large and aquiline, his
lips irregular and rather oddly (though pleasantly) compressed, his
articulation slightly defective and lisping, and his head quite bald.
Such was my father's exterior from the days of my earliest recollection.
It was an exterior which not only brought him success and made him a
man a bonnes fortunes but one which pleased people of all ranks and
stations. Especially did it please those whom he desired to please.
At all junctures he knew how to take the lead, for, though not deriving
from the highest circles of society, he had always mixed with them, and
knew how to win their respect. He possessed in the highest degree that
measure of pride and self-confidence which, without giving offence,
maintains a man in the opinion of the world. He had much originality,
as well as the ability to use it in such a way that it benefited him as
much as actual worldly position or fortune could have done. Nothing in
the universe could surprise him, and though not of eminent attainments
in life, he seemed born to have acquired them. He understood so
perfectly how to make both himself and others forget and keep at
a distance the seamy side of life, with all its petty troubles
and vicissitudes, that it was impossible not to envy him. He was a
connoisseur in everything which could give ease and pleasure, as well
as knew how to make use of such knowledge. Likewise he prided himself on
the brilliant connections which he had formed through my mother's family
or through friends of his youth, and was secretly jealous of any one of
a higher rank than himself--any one, that is to say, of a rank higher
than a retired lieutenant of the Guards. Moreover, like all ex-officers,
he refused to dress himself in the prevailing fashion, though he attired
himself both originally and artistically--his invariable wear being
light, loose-fitting suits, very fine shirts, and large collars and
cuffs. Everything seemed to suit his upright figure and quiet, assured
air. He was sensitive to the pitch of sentimentality, and, when reading
a pathetic passage, his voice would begin to tremble and the tears to
come into his eyes, until he had to lay the book aside. Likewise he was
fond of music, and could accompany himself on the piano as he sang the
love songs of his friend A-- or gipsy songs or themes from operas;
but he had no love for serious music, and would frankly flout received
opinion by declaring that, whereas Beethoven's sonatas wearied him and
sent him to sleep, his ideal of beauty was "Do not wake me, youth"
as Semenoff sang it, or "Not one" as the gipsy Taninsha rendered that
ditty. His nature was essentially one of those which follow public
opinion concerning what is good, and consider only that good which the
public declares to be so. [It may be noted that the author has said
earlier in the chapter that his father possessed "much originality."]
God only knows whether he had any moral convictions. His life was so
full of amusement that probably he never had time to form any, and was
too successful ever to feel the lack of them.
As he grew to old age he looked at things always from a fixed point
of view, and cultivated fixed rules--but only so long as that point or
those rules coincided with expediency. The mode of life which offered
some passing degree of interest--that, in his opinion, was the right
one and the only one that men ought to affect. He had great fluency of
argument; and this, I think, increased the adaptability of his morals
and enabled him to speak of one and the same act, now as good, and now,
with abuse, as abominable.
XI -- IN THE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE STUDY
Twilight had set in when we reached home. Mamma sat down to the piano,
and we to a table, there to paint and draw in colours and pencil. Though
I had only one cake of colour, and it was blue, I determined to draw a
picture of the hunt. In exceedingly vivid fashion I painted a blue boy
on a blue horse, and--but here I stopped, for I was uncertain whether
it was possible also to paint a blue HARE. I ran to the study to consult
Papa, and as he was busy reading he never lifted his eyes from his book
when I asked, "Can there be blue hares?" but at once replied, "There
can, my boy, there can." Returning to the table I painted in my blue
hare, but subsequently thought it better to change it into a blue bush.
Yet the blue bush did not wholly please me, so I changed it into a tree,
and then into a rick, until, the whole paper having now become one blur
of blue, I tore it angrily in pieces, and went off to meditate in the
large arm-chair.
Mamma was playing Field's second concerto. Field, it may be said, had
been her master. As I dozed, the music brought up before my imagination
a kind of luminosity, with transparent dream-shapes. Next she played the
"Sonate Pathetique" of Beethoven, and I at once felt heavy, depressed,
and apprehensive. Mamma often played those two pieces, and therefore I
well recollect the feelings they awakened in me. Those feelings were a
reminiscence--of what? Somehow I seemed to remember something which had
never been.
Opposite to me lay the study door, and presently I saw Jakoff enter it,
accompanied by several long-bearded men in kaftans. Then the door shut
again.
"Now they are going to begin some business or other," I thought. I
believed the affairs transacted in that study to be the most important
ones on earth. This opinion was confirmed by the fact that people only
approached the door of that room on tiptoe and speaking in whispers.
Presently Papa's resonant voice sounded within, and I also scented
cigar smoke--always a very attractive thing to me. Next, as I dozed, I
suddenly heard a creaking of boots that I knew, and, sure enough,
saw Karl Ivanitch go on tiptoe, and with a depressed, but resolute,