Delighted by the Count’s witticism, the guests burst out laughing. But it wasn’t right of them to laugh…
Five minutes, ten minutes, passed and still the young bride did not return. Everything became quiet. Even the Count stopped joking. Olenka’s absence was all the more noticeable because she had departed so suddenly, without saying one word. Not to mention the question of etiquette, which, more than anything else, had been badly breached, Olenka had left the table immediately after the kiss, as if she were angry at having been forced to kiss her husband. One could not assume that she had left out of embarrassment. It’s possible to be embarrassed for a minute, for two minutes, but not for an eternity, which the first ten minutes of her absence appeared to be. So many evil, nasty thoughts must have flashed through the men’s tipsy heads, so much slanderous talk was already on the lips of those charming ladies! The bride had risen from the table and left – what a dramatic and effective scene for a novel of provincial high society!
Urbenin started anxiously looking around.
‘It’s nerves,’ he muttered. ‘Or perhaps part of her dress has come undone. Who can understand them, these women! She’ll be back in a jiffy, any minute now…’
But after another ten minutes had passed and she still hadn’t appeared, he looked at me with such unhappy, imploring eyes that I felt sorry for him.
‘What if I went to look for her?’ his eyes said. ‘Will you help me out of this dreadful mess, old chap? You’re the most intelligent, the boldest and most resourceful man here – please help me!’
I noted the entreaty in his unhappy eyes and decided to help him. How I helped him the reader will discover later. All I shall say now is that the bear in Krylov’s fable41 that did a hermit a good turn, loses (in my opinion) all its animal majesty, pales and turns into innocent infusoria,42 when I remind myself of the ‘obliging fool’ role I played. The only resemblance between myself and the bear consisted in both of us going to help someone, with sincere motives, without anticipating any nasty consequences as a result. But the difference between us was enormous: the stone that I hurled at Urbenin’s head was much heavier.
‘Where’s Olga Nikolayevna?’ I asked the footman who was serving me some salad.
‘She’s gone into the garden, sir,’ he replied.
‘This is simply unheard of, mesdames,’ I told the ladies in a jocular tone of voice. ‘The bride’s left and my wine’s turned sour! I must go and find her and bring her back, even if all her teeth are aching! A best man is like an official – and this one’s going to demonstrate his authority!’
I stood up and to the loud applause of my friend, the Count, went from the dining-room into the garden. The direct, burning rays of the afternoon sun beat on my head that was inflamed with wine. Suffocating heat and humid air breathed right into my face. I walked haphazardly along one of the side paths, whistling some kind of tune and giving ‘full steam ahead’ to my investigatory capabilities as a simple detective. I checked all the bushes, summer-houses, grottoes and, just as I was beginning to feel pangs of regret at having turned right instead of left, I suddenly heard a strange noise. Someone was either laughing or crying. These sounds came from a grotto that I had left until last. I quickly entered and was immediately enveloped in dampness, the smell of mildew, mushrooms and lime – and then I saw the object of my search.
She was standing there, leaning against a wooden column that was covered in black moss, looking at me with eyes full of horror and despair, and tearing her hair. Tears poured from her eyes as from a squeezed sponge.
‘What have I done?’ she muttered. ‘What have I done?’
‘Yes, Olenka, what have you done?’ I said, standing behind her with arms folded.
‘Why did I marry him? Where were my eyes? Where were my brains?’
‘Yes, Olya… the step you took is hard to explain. To put it down to inexperience is too lenient, to explain it by depravity – that I don’t want to do!’
‘Only today did I come to understand – only today! Why didn’t I understand this yesterday? Now everything is irrevocable, all is lost! Everything, everything! And I could have married a man I love and who loves me!’
‘And who might that be, Olya?’ I asked.
‘You!’ she said, looking at me openly, directly. ‘But I was in too much of a hurry! I was stupid! You’re clever, high-minded, young… you’re rich! You seemed so unattainable!’
‘That’s enough, Olya,’ I said, taking her hand. ‘Now, wipe your little eyes and let’s go back. They’re waiting for us. Come on, enough of those tears, enough!’ I kissed her hand. ‘Now, that’s enough, little girl! You did something silly and now you must pay for it. It’s your own fault… Come on, that’s enough… calm down.’
‘But you do love me, don’t you? You’re so big, so handsome! You do love me, don’t you?’
‘It’s time to go, my dear,’ I said, noticing to my great horror that I was kissing her forehead, putting my arm around her waist, that she was scorching me with her hot breath, and hanging on my neck.
‘That’s enough!’ I muttered. ‘Enough of this!’
XII
Five minutes later, when I had carried her out of the grotto in my arms and, wearied by new sensations, had set her down, I spotted Pshekhotsky almost at the entrance. He was standing there maliciously eyeing me and silently applauding. I looked him up and down, took Olenka by the arm and returned to the house.
‘You’ll be out of here today!’ I told Pshekhotsky as I looked around. ‘You won’t get away with this spying!’
My kisses had probably been very passionate, as Olenka’s face was burning as if it were on fire. There was no trace of the tears she had just shed.
‘Now I couldn’t give a damn, as the saying goes,’ she murmured as she walked back with me towards the house, convulsively squeezing my elbow. ‘This morning I didn’t know what to do, I was so horrified… and now, my good giant, I’m beside myself with happiness. My husband’s sitting back there, waiting for me. Ha ha! What do I care? Even if he were a crocodile or a terrible serpent… I’m afraid of nothing! I love you and that’s all that matters.’
I looked at her face that was glowing with happiness, at her eyes that were full of joyful, satisfied love – and my heart sank with fears for the future of that pretty, blissful creature. Her love for me was only another push into the abyss. What would become of that smiling woman who had no thought for the future? My heart sank, turned over from a feeling that could be called neither pity nor compassion – it was stronger than both of these. I stopped and took Olenka by the shoulder. Never before had I seen a more beautiful and graceful creature, nor one that was at the same time more pathetic. There was no time for deliberating, weighing things up, taking stock. Overcome with emotion I told her:
‘Let’s go to my place right away, Olga! This very minute!’
‘What? What did you say?’ she asked, puzzled by my rather solemn tone.
‘Let’s go to my place right away.’
Olga smiled and pointed back towards the house.
‘Well, what’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Isn’t it all the same whether I take you away today or tomorrow? The sooner the better… let’s go!’
‘But it’s all rather peculiar…’
‘Are you afraid of a scandal, little girl? Yes, there’ll be an almighty, magnificent scandal – but a thousand scandals are better than your staying here! I won’t leave you here! I can’t leave you here! Do you understand, Olga? Forget your faintheartedness, your female logic and do what I say! Obey me, if you don’t desire your own ruin!’