'But why are you so cross?'
'I'm just fed up.'
Annoyed at not having proposed to Masha and having no one to tell about his love, he went and lay on his study sofa. The room was dark and quiet. Lying and gazing into the darkness, Nikitin imagined that somc errand would take him to St. Petersburg in a couple ofyears, and that the weeping Masha would see him off at the station. In St. Petersburg he would receive a long letter from her in which she would cntreat him to hurry back home. He would write her a reply beginning 'Darling little rat '
'Just so, "darling little rat",' he laughed.
He was lying uncomfortably, so he put his hands behind his head and canted his left leg on to the sofa back. That was better. Meanwhile dawn was breaking beyond the window, sleepy cocks crowed outside. Nikitin went on thinking—how he would come back from St. Petersburg, how Masha would meet him at the station and throw her arms round his neck shrieking with joy. Better still, he would play a trick. He would come back secretly late at night, the cook would let him in, and he would tip-toe to the bedroom, undress noiselessly and dive into bed. She would wake up—ah, bliss!
It was quite light now, but instead of his study and its window he saw Masha, who sat talking on the steps of the brewery they had ridden past that afternoon. She took Nikitin's arm and they went to the country park where he saw those oaks and crows' nests like fur caps. One nest swayed and out peeped Shebaldin with a vociferous 'Who hasn't read his Lessing?'
Shuddering all over, Nikitin opened his eyes. There by the sofa stood Hippolytus, head thrown back as he tied his cravat.
'Get up, it's time for school,' he said. 'Now, you shouldn't sleep in your clothes, it spoils them. One sleeps in one's bed after first removing one 's atti re.'
And he embarked on his usual long, emphatic string of platitudes.
Nikitin's first period was Russian grammar with the second form. Going into the classroom at nine o'clock precisely, he saw two capital letters chalked on the blackboard: M. S. They stood for Masha Shclestov no doubt.
'So the' little devils have found out,' thought Nikitin. 'How do they always know everything?'
His second period was Russian literature with the fifth form. Here too he saw an M. S. on the board, and as he left the classroom at the end of the lesson a cry rang out behind him like a catcall from a theatre gallery. 'Good old Masha !'
He felt muzzy after sleeping in his clothes, his body drooped from fatigue. His pupils, daily tooking forward to the break before their examinations, were idle and depressed, and they misbehaved out of boredom. Also depressed, Nikitin ignored their little tricks and kept going to the window. He saw the street bathed in sunJight, the limpid blue sky above the houses, the birds—while far, far away beyond green gardens and houses stretched an infinitely remote expanse with dark blue coppices and a puff of steam from a moving train.
Two white-tunicked officers flicked their whips as they walked down the street in the shade of the acacias. A party of grey-bearded Jews in peaked caps drove past in a brake, the governess was taking the headmistress's grand-daughter for a walk, Fishface dashed past with two mongrels. And there went Varya in her plain grey dress and red stockings, carrying a European Hera/d—she must have been to the municipal library.
It was a long time before school would end at three o'clock. Nor could Nikitin go home or visit the Shelestovs after school, for he had to give a lesson at Wolf's. This Wolf was a rich Jewish protestant convert who did not send his children to school, but got schoolmasters to coach them privately at five roubles a lesson.
Nikitin was bored, bored, bored)
At thrce o'clock he wcnt to Wolf's and spcnt what scemed like all cternity there. He left at five o'clock, and was due back at school by seven for a teachers' mceting to fix the oral examination timetable for the fourth and sixth forms.
That night, on his way from school to the Shelestovs', he felt his heart pounding and his face burning. A weck ago, a month ago— every time he had been about to propose he had had an entire harangue ready complete with introduction and peroration, but now he didn't have one word preparcd, his head was awhirl. All he knew was that he was going to declare himself this evening for sure and that there was no more putting it off.
He would ask her into the garden, he reflected. Tll stroll about a bit and I'll propose.'
There was no one in the hall. He went into the drawing-room and parlour, but there was no one there either. He heard Varya arguing with someone upstairs and the dressmaker clicking her scissors in the nursery.
There was a lobby with three names: the 'small', the 'corridor', the 'dark' room. It contained a big old cupboard full of medicines, gun- powder and hunting gear, and a narrow wooden staircase, with cats always asleep on it, leading to the first floor. The lobby had two doors—one to the nursery, one to the drawing-room. When Nikitin went in on his way upstairs the nursery door suddenly opened and slammed so hard that staircase and cupboard rattled. Out rushed Masha in a dark dress, carrying a piece of blue material, and darted to the stairs without seeing him.
'Hey', Nikitin said to stop her. 'Hallo, Godefroi. May I, er '
He gasped, he didn't know what to say, clutching her hand with one hand and the blue material with the other. Half frightened, half surprised, she gazed at him wide-eyed.
'Look here—,' Nikitin went on, afraid she would go away. 'I have something to say, only it's, er, awkward here. I can't do it, it's beyond me, Godefroi, it's more than I can manage and that's all there, er, is to it. '
The blue material slipped to the floor and Nikitin took Masha's other hand. She turned pale, moved her lips and backed away from him, ending up in the corner between wall and cupboard.
'I swear, I assure you,' he said softly. 'I take my oath, Masha, er '
She threw her head back and he kissed her lips, holding her check with his fingers to make the kiss last longer. Then he somehow found himself in the corner between cupboard and wall, whilc she had twined her arms round his neck and was pressing her head ag;iinst his chin.
Then they both ran into the garden.
Thc Shelestovs had a large, ten-acre garden with a score ot old maplcs and limes. There was a fir, a sweet chestnut, a silvery olive, and all the rest were fruit-trees—cherries, apples, pears. There were masscs of flowers too.
Nikitin and Masha ran down the paths, now silent, now laugrung, now asking disconnected questions which went unanswered, while a half moon shone over the garden. On the ground—dark grass, dimly lit by the moon's crcscent—drowsy tulips and irises stretched up as if they too longed to hear words of love.
When Nikitin and Masha came back to the house the officers and young ladies were already assembled, dancing a mazurka. Again Polyansky led a grand chain through the house, again they played forfeits after dancing. But when the guests went into the dining-room before supper, Masha was left alone with Nikitin.
She pressed close to him. 'You must talk to papa and Varya, I'm too embarrassed.'
After supper he spoke to the old man, who heard him out. 'I'm most grateful,' said he, after some thought, 'for the honour which you are conferring on myself and my daughter, but permit me to spcak as a friend—not as a father, but as between gentlemen. Now, why oh why the great rush to marry so early? Only farm labourers marry so young, but then we all know they're a lot of bounders, sir. But you—what's got into you? A ball and chain at your tender age—where's the fun in that?'
Nikitin took umbrage. 'I'm nof young, I'm nearly twenty-seven.'
'Father, the farrier's here,' shouted Varya from another room. And that cnded the conversation.
Varya, Masha and Polyansky saw Nikitin home.
'Why does your mysterious Mr. Hippolytus never emerge?' Varya asked when they rcached his gate. 'He might come and see us.'