She saw me and gave a joyful shout, and would certainly have thrown her arms round my neck if we had not been in a park. She squeezed my hands, laughing, and I joined in, moved almost to tears. Then the questions began. How were things in the village ? How was Father? Had I seen her brother? And so on. She insisted on me looking her in the eyes and asked if I remembered the gudgeon, our little quarrels and the picnics.
'It was so marvellous, wasn't it ?' she sighed. 'Not that it's dull here either. Darling, we've lots of friends! Tomorrow I'll introduce you to a Russian family here. Only for goodness' sake buy another hat.' She looked me up and down and frowned. 'Abbazia isn't a village,' she said. 'It's the thing here to be comme ilJaut.'
We went to a restaurant. Ariadne kept laughing, behaving skittishly and ca^^g me a 'dear', a 'darling' and 'such a clever boy', as if she could scarcely believe I was with her. We sat around till about eleven and departed very_pleased with our supper and each other. Next day Ariadne presented me to the Russian family as 'the son of a distinguished professor whose estate is next to ours'. She talked of nothing but estates and harvests to these people, continually referring to me. She wanted to pass as a member of a rich 'county' family, and I must say she succeeded, having the superb manner of a true aristocrat— which indeed she was.
'Isn't Aunt funny!' she suddenly said, smiling at me. 'We had a bit of a tiff" and she's gone off to Merano. What do you think of that?'
'Who's this aunt you were talking about?'. I asked her later when we were walking in the park. 'What's all this about an aunt?'
'Oh, just a little white lie,' laughed Ariadne. 'They mustn't know I'm unchaperoned.' After a moment's silence she snuggled up to me. 'Please, darling, do be nice to Lubkov,' she said. 'He's so miserable. His mother and wife are simply dreadful.'
With Lubkov she seemed to keep her distance, and when she went to bed she wished him good night with a 'till tomorrow', just as she did me. And they lived on different floors, which made me hope there was nothing in the idea that they were lovers. So I felt at ease with him and when he asked for a loan of three hundred roubles, I was glad to let him have it.
We spent the whole of each day amusing ourselves, stroUing about the park, eating and drinking. And every day we had these conversations with the Russian family. One thing I gradually got used to was that if I went in the park I was sure to meet the old man with jaundice, the Polish priest and the Austrian general, who always had a small pack ofcards with him and whenever possible sat do^n and played patience, nervously twitching his shoulders. And the band kept playing the same tune.
At home in the country I was always ashamed to face our peasants when I went fishing on a working day or drove out for a picnic. And I had the same feeling of shame with the servants, coachmen and workers that I met here. I felt they were looking at me and wondering why I never did anything. I felt this sense of shame every day from morning to night.
It was a strange, unpleasant, monotonous time, varied only by Lubkov borrowing money from me—now a hundred florins, now fifty. Money was to him what morphine is to an addict. It soon cheered him up and he would roar with laughter at his wife, at himself or at his creditors.
Then the rains and cold weather set in. We left for Italy and I telegraphed Father, asking him for God's sake to send me an eight hundred rouble money-order in Rome. We stopped in Venice, Bologna and Florence, and in each city invariably found ourselves at expensive hotels where we were charged extra for lighting, service, heating, bread with our lunch, and the right to dine in a private room. We ate an enormous amount. We had a large breakfast and lunched at one o'clock on meat, fish, some kind of omelette, cheese, fruit and wine. At six o'clock we had an eight-course dinner with long intervals when we drank beer and wine. About half-past eight tea was served. Towards midnight Ariadne would declare herselfhungry and demand ham and boiled eggs and we would have some too to keep her company.
Between meals we dashed round museums and exhibitions, haunted by the fear ofbeing late for lunch or dinner. I was bored with pictures and longed to go home and lie do^n.
'Marvellous! What a feeling ofspace,' I would repeat hypocritically after the others, looking exhausted.ly for a chair.
Like gorged boa-constrictors, we only noticed things that glittered. Shop windows mesmerized us, we were fascinated by cheap brooches and bought a lot of useless junk.
It was the same story in Rome where there was rain and a cold wind and we went to inspect St. Peter's after a greasy lunch. Because we had been stuffing ourselves, or perhaps because the weather was so bad, it did not impress us, and having caught each other outnot caring about art we almost quarrelled.
The money arrived from Father. It was morning, I remember, when I went to fetch it and Lubkov went with me.
'So long as one has a past,' he said, 'one can't lead a full, happy life here and now. My past is a great handicap to me. True, ifl had money it wouldn't be too bad, but I'm broke. Do you know I've only eight francs left ?' he went on, lowering his voice. 'Yet I must send my wife a hundred and my mother another hundred. Then there's living here. Ariadne's such a child, She just won't understand, and she squanders money like a duchess. Why did she have to buy that watch yesterday? And why should we still pretend to be as innocent as new-born babes ? You tell me that! Why, it costs us an extra ten to fifteen francs a day to conceal our relationship from servants and friends by taking a separate room for me. What's the point ?'
I felt a sharp stab ofpain in my chest. Now I knew what was going on—no more uncertainty. I felt cold all over and at once found myself deciding to sec no more of these two, but to escape and go home at once.
'Starting an affair with a woman's easy enough,' Lubkov went on. 'It's just a matter of undressing her. It's what comes later that's such a bore—oh, what a lot of nonsense!'
I counted my remittance.
'Lend me a thousand francs or I'm done for,' he said. 'Your money's my last hope.'
I gave him it and he cheered up at once and started laughing at his uncle—the silly fool hadn't managed to keep Lubkov's address from his wife. I went back to the hotel, packed and paid the bill. It remained to say good-bye to Ariadne.
I knocked on her door.
'Entrez!'
Her room was in a typical morning mess—tea things on the table, a half-eaten roll and eggshells. There was a strong, stifling reck of scent. The bed had not been made and it was obvious that two people had slept in it. Ariadne herself had only just got up and was wearing a flannel bed-jacket. She had not done her hair.
I said good morning and sat for a moment in silence while she tried to tidy her hair.
'Why, oh why did you send for me?' I asked her, trembling in every limb. 'Why drag me abroad?
She evidently guessed what was in my mind and took me by the hand.
'I want you here,' she said. 'You're such a decent person.'
I was ashamed ofbeing so shaken and distressed—I should be bursting into tears next thing! I went out without another word, and an hour later I was in the train. All the way home I somehow pictured Ariadne as pregnant and she seemed repulsive. And somehow all the women I saw in trains and stations appeared pregnant and, like her, repulsive and pathetic. I felt like a fanatical miser who suddenly finds that his gold coins are all counterfeit. Those pure, graceful visions which my imagination, inspired by love, had so long cherished, my plans, my hopes, my memories, my views oflove and woman—all that seemed to be mocking me and jeering at me.
'Could this be Ariadne,' I asked in horror, '—this young, stri^rngly beautiful, educated girl, the daughter of a senator—conducting an intrigue with that vulgar, humdrum mediocrity?'
'But why shouldn't she love Lubkov?' I answered. 'Is he any worse than me? Oh, let her love who she likes. But why lie? And then again, why on earth should she be honest with me?' And so on and so forth until I felt I was going out of my mind.