"I did not expect to meet you here," said Sofya Petrovna, looking at the ground and stirring last year's leaves with the tip of her parasol, "and now I am glad we have met. I must have a serious and final talk with you. I beg you, Ivan Mihailovich, if you really love and respect me, please stop pursuing me! You follow me about like a shadow, you constantly look at me in a way which isn't nice, you declare yourself repeatedly, you vvrite me strange letters, and . . . and I don't know when it's all going to end! Lord, what can come of it?"
Ilyin was silent. Sofya Petrovna took a few steps and continued:
"And this abrupt change in you took place in the course of two or three weeks, after an acquaintance of five years. I don't recognize you, Ivan Mihailovich!"
Sofya Petrovna cast a sidelong glance at her com- panion. With narrowed eyes, he was staring intently at the fluffy clouds. His expression was harsh, capricious, and abstracted, like that of a man who suffers pain and at the same time is forced to listen to twaddle.
"It is surprising that you don't understand it your- self," she continued with a shrug of her shoulders. "You ought to realize that it is not a very nice game you've started. I am married, I love and respect my husband. ... I have a daughter. . . . Does all that mean noth- ing to you? Besides, as an old friend you know what I think of marriage . • . and of the institution of the family—"
Ilyin grunted with disgust and sighed.
"The institution of the family—" he muttered. "Oh, Lord!"
"Yes, yes. • . . I love my husband, I respect him; and in any event I value the peace of my family life. I would rather die than cause Andrey and his daughter any unhappiness. And I beg you, Ivan Mihailovich, for
God's sake, leave me alone! Let us be good, kind friends, as before, and give up these sighs and groans, which don't become you. It's settled and done with! Not an- other word about it. Let us talk of something else."
Sofya Petrovna again cast a sidelong glance at Ilyin. Pale and angrily biting his trembling lips, he was look- ing upwards. She could not understand what made him angry and indignant, but his pallor touched her.
"So don't be angry, let's be friends," she said af- fectionately. "Agreed? Here is my hand."
Ilyin took her plump little hand into both of his, pressed it and slowly raised it to his lips.
"I am not a schoolboy," he muttered. "Friendship with the woman I love doesn't tempt me in the least."
"Enough, enough! It's settled and done with. We have reached the bench; let's sit down."
Sofya Petrovna was filled with a sweet sense of re- lief: the most difficult and ticklish things have been said, the painful question has been settled and disposed of. Now she could breathe freely and look him straight in the face. She looked at him, and the woman's selfish sense of superiority over the man who is in love with her flattered her agreeably. It gratified her to see this strong, huge man, clever, educated and, people said, gifted, with his sullen, masculine face and big black beard, sit down obediently beside her and drop his head dejectedly. For two or three minutes they sat in silence.
"Nothing is settled and done with," began Ilyin. "You 'recite copybook maxims to me: 'I love and respect my husband . . . the institution of the family . . ! I know all that without your saying anything, and I could tell you more about it, too. I admit frankly and honestly that I consider my behavior criminal and im- moral. What more can one say? But what is the good of saying what is clear to anybody? Instead of feeding
the nightingale heart-rending words, you'd much better
tell me what I am to do."
"I've told you already: go away."
"As you know perfectly well, I went away five times, and every time I returned before I had gone half way. I can show you my through tickets—I have kept them all. I haven't the will power to run away from you! I am struggling, I am struggling hard, but what the devil am I good for if I have no character, if I am weak, faint-hearted! D'you understand? I can't, I can't fight Nature! I run away from here, and she holds on to my coattails and pulls me back. Vulgar, hideous weakness!"
Ilyin turned red, rose, and walked up and down in front of the bench.
"I feel as cross as a bear," he growled, clenching his fists. "I hate and despise myself! My God, like some dissolute schoolboy I run after another man's wife, write idiotic letters, degrade myself . . . ugh!
Ilyin clutched his head, grunted, and sat down.
"And then this insincerity of yours!" he continued bitterly. "If you really object to my ugly game, why have you come here? What drew you here? In my let- ters I only ask for a straight, unequivocal answer: yes or no, but instead of giving me a straight answer, every day you manage these 'chance' meetings with me and regale me with copybook maxims!"
She was frightened and flared up. She suddenly felt the. embarrassment which a decent woman experiences when she is accidentally discovered undressed.
"You seem to suspect me of playing with you," she muttered. "I have always given you a straight answer, and . . . just now I begged you—"
"Oh, as though one begged in such matters! If you were to say right out: 'Go away,' I should have cleared out long ago; but you have never said that. You've never once given me a straight answer. Strange hesi- tancy! By God, either you're playing with me, or else—"
Ilyin broke off short and propped his head on his fists. Sofya Petrovna started going over her behavior from beginning to end in her own mind. She recalled that not only in her actions but even in her inmost thoughts she had never encouraged Ilyin's advances; at the same time she felt that there was some truth in the lawyer's words. But not knowing exactly to what extent he was right, she could find nothing to say in reply to his complaint, no matter how she racked her brain. It was awkward to be silent, and with a shrug of her shoulders she said:
"So it is I who am at fault!"
"I don't blame you for your insincerity," sighed Ilyin. "I just blurted out those words without meaning them. Your insincerity is natural and in the order of things. If people agreed suddenly to become sincere, every- thing would go to the devil, would fall to pieces."
Sofya Petrovna was in no mood for philosophizing, but she was glad of a chance to change the subject and asked: "But why?"
"Because only savages and animals are sincere. Once civilization has ushered in the need for such comforts as, for instance, feminine virtue, sincerity is out of place."
Ilyin drove his cane angrily into the sand. Madam Lubyantzeva listened to him and failed to understand a great deal, but relished his conversation. What grati- fied her in the first place was that a gifted man talked to her, an ordinary woman, on an "intellectual" sub- ject; it afforded her great pleasure, too, to watch the working of his mobile, young, white face, which was still cross. Much of what he said she did not grasp, but what she found attractive about his talk was the temer- ity with which modern man, casting all hesitation and doubt to the winds, settles great questions once for all and reaches final conclusions.
She suddenly realized that she was admiring him, and took fright.
"Forgive me, but I don't understand," she made haste to say. "Why do you speak of insincerity? I repeat my request: be my good, kind friend; leave me alone! I earnestly beg you!"
"Very well; I'll try again," sighed Ilyin. "I am at your service. But I doubt if anything will come of my efforts. Either I shall put a bullet through my brain or take to drink in the silliest way. I shall bark my shins badly! There's a limit to everything, even to fighting against Nature. Tell me, how can one fight against madness? If you drink wine, how are you to fight against intoxica- tion? What am I to do if your image has struck root in my soul, and day and night stands persistently before my eyes, the way that pine over there stands at this moment? Come, tell me, what feat must I perform to rid myself of this abominable, wretched condition, in which all my thoughts, desires, dreams are no longer my own, but belong to some demon who has gained possession of me? I love you, love you so much that I am completely thrown off balance; I have given up my work and turned my back on those dear to me; I have forgotten my God! I've never been in love like this in all my life."