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The Duel by
Chekhov
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XXI
V
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna went to bathe in the
morning, and her cook, Olga, followed her with a jug, a copper
basin, towels, and a sponge. In the bay stood two unknown
steamers with dirty white funnels, obviously foreign cargo
vessels. Some men dressed in white and wearing white shoes were
walking along the harbour, shouting loudly in French, and were
answered from the steamers. The bells were ringing briskly in
the little church of the town.
"To-day is Sunday!" Nadyezhda Fyodorovna remembered with
pleasure.
She felt perfectly well, and was in a gay holiday humour. In a
new loose-fitting dress of coarse thick tussore silk, and a big
wide-brimmed straw hat which was bent down over her ears, so
that her face looked out as though from a basket, she fancied
she looked very charming. She thought that in the whole town
there was only one young, pretty, intellectual woman, and that
was herself, and that she was the only one who knew how to dress
herself cheaply, elegantly, and with taste. That dress, for
example, cost only twenty-two roubles, and yet how charming it
was! In the whole town she was the only one who could be
attractive, while there were numbers of men, so they must all,
whether they would or not, be envious of Laevsky.
She was glad that of late Laevsky had been cold to her, reserved
and polite, and at times even harsh and rude; in the past she
had met all his outbursts, all his contemptuous, cold or strange
incomprehensible glances, with tears, reproaches, and threats to
leave him or to starve herself to death; now she only blushed,
looked guiltily at him, and was glad he was not affectionate to
her. If he had abused her, threatened her, it would have been
better and pleasanter, since she felt hopelessly guilty towards
him. She felt she was to blame, in the first place, for not
sympathising with the dreams of a life of hard work, for the
sake of which he had given up Petersburg and had come here to
the Caucasus, and she was convinced that he had been angry with
her of late for precisely that. When she was travelling to the
Caucasus, it seemed that she would find here on the first day a
cosy nook by the sea, a snug little garden with shade, with
birds, with little brooks, where she could grow flowers and
vegetables, rear ducks and hens, entertain her neighbours,
doctor poor peasants and distribute little books amongst them.
It had turned out that the Caucasus was nothing but bare
mountains, forests, and huge valleys, where it took a long time
and a great deal of effort to find anything and settle down;
that there were no neighbours of any sort; that it was very hot
and one might be robbed. Laevsky had been in no hurry to obtain
a piece of land; she was glad of it, and they seemed to be in a
tacit compact never to allude to a life of hard work. He was
silent about it, she thought, because he was angry with her for
being silent about it.
In the second place, she had without his knowledge during those
two years bought various trifles to the value of three hundred
roubles at Atchmianov's shop. She had bought the things by
degrees, at one time materials, at another time silk or a
parasol, and the debt had grown imperceptibly.
"I will tell him about it to-day . . .," she used to decide, but
at once reflected that in Laevsky's present mood it would hardly
be convenient to talk to him of debts.
Thirdly, she had on two occasions in Laevsky's absence received
a visit from Kirilin, the police captain: once in the morning
when Laevsky had gone to bathe, and another time at midnight
when he was playing cards. Remembering this, Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna flushed crimson, and looked round at the cook as
though she might overhear her thoughts. The long, insufferably
hot, wearisome days, beautiful languorous evenings and stifling
nights, and the whole manner of living, when from morning to
night one is at a loss to fill up the useless hours, and the
persistent thought that she was the prettiest young woman in the
town, and that her youth was passing and being wasted, and
Laevsky himself, though honest and idealistic, always the same,
always lounging about in his slippers, biting his nails, and
wearying her with his caprices, led by degrees to her becoming
possessed by desire, and as though she were mad, she thought of
nothing else day and night. Breathing, looking, walking, she
felt nothing but desire. The sound of the sea told her she must
love; the darkness of evening -- the same; the mountains -- the
same. . . . And when Kirilin began paying her attentions, she
had neither the power nor the wish to resist, and surrendered to
him. . . .
Now the foreign steamers and the men in white reminded her for
some reason of a huge hall; together with the shouts of French
she heard the strains of a waltz, and her bosom heaved with
unaccountable delight. She longed to dance and talk French.
She reflected joyfully that there was nothing terrible about her
infidelity. Her soul had no part in her infidelity; she still
loved Laevsky, and that was proved by the fact that she was
jealous of him, was sorry for him, and missed him when he was
away. Kirilin had turned out to be very mediocre, rather coarse
though handsome; everything was broken off with him already and
there would never be anything more. What had happened was over;
it had nothing to do with any one, and if Laevsky found it out
he would not believe in it.
There was only one bathing-house for ladies on the sea-front;
men bathed under the open sky. Going into the bathing-house,
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna found there an elderly lady, Marya
Konstantinovna Bityugov, and her daughter Katya, a schoolgirl of
fifteen; both of them were sitting on a bench undressing. Marya
Konstantinovna was a good-natured, enthusiastic, and genteel
person, who talked in a drawling and pathetic voice. She had
been a governess until she was thirty-two, and then had married
Bityugov, a Government official -- a bald little man with his
hair combed on to his temples and with a very meek disposition.
She was still in love with him, was jealous, blushed at the word
"love," and told every one she was very happy.
"My dear," she cried enthusiastically, on seeing Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna, assuming an expression which all her acquaintances
called "almond-oily." "My dear, how delightful that you have
come! We'll bathe together -- that's enchanting!"
Olga quickly flung off her dress and chemise, and began
undressing her mistress.
"It's not quite so hot to-day as yesterday?" said Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna, shrinking at the coarse touch of the naked cook.
"Yesterday I almost died of the heat."
"Oh, yes, my dear; I could hardly breathe myself. Would you
believe it? I bathed yesterday three times! Just imagine, my
dear, three times! Nikodim Alexandritch was quite uneasy."
"Is it possible to be so ugly?" thought Nadyezhda Fyodorovna,
looking at Olga and the official's wife; she glanced at Katya
and thought: "The little girl's not badly made."
"Your Nikodim Alexandritch is very charming!" she said. "I'm
simply in love with him."
"Ha, ha, ha!" cried Marya Konstantinovna, with a forced laugh;
"that's quite enchanting."
Free from her clothes, Nadyezhda Fyodorovna felt a desire to
fly. And it seemed to her that if she were to wave her hands she
would fly upwards. When she was undressed, she noticed that Olga
looked scornfully at her white body. Olga, a young soldier's
wife, was living with her lawful husband, and so considered
herself superior to her mistress. Marya Konstantinovna and Katya
were afraid of her, and did not respect her. This was
disagreeable, and to raise herself in their opinion, Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna said:
"At home, in Petersburg, summer villa life is at its height now.
My husband and I have so many friends! We ought to go and see
them."
"I believe your husband is an engineer?" said Marya
Konstantinovna timidly.
"I am speaking of Laevsky. He has a great many acquaintances.
But unfortunately his mother is a proud aristocrat, not very
intelligent. . . ."
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna threw herself into the water without
finishing; Marya Konstantinovna and Katya made their way in
after her.
"There are so many conventional ideas in the world," Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna went on, "and life is not so easy as it seems."
Marya Konstantinovna, who had been a governess in aristocratic
families and who was an authority on social matters, said:
"Oh yes! Would you believe me, my dear, at the Garatynskys' I
was expected to dress for lunch as well as for dinner, so that,
like an actress, I received a special allowance for my wardrobe
in addition to my salary."
She stood between Nadyezhda Fyodorovna and Katya as though to
screen her daughter from the water that washed the former.
Through the open doors looking out to the sea they could see
some one swimming a hundred paces from their bathing-place.
"Mother, it's our Kostya," said Katya.
"Ach, ach!" Marya Konstantinovna cackled in her dismay. "Ach,
Kostya!" she shouted, "Come back! Kostya, come back!"
Kostya, a boy of fourteen, to show off his prowess before his
mother and sister, dived and swam farther, but began to be
exhausted and hurried back, and from his strained and serious
face it could be seen that he could not trust his own strength.
"The trouble one has with these boys, my dear!" said Marya
Konstantinovna, growing calmer. "Before you can turn round, he
will break his neck. Ah, my dear, how sweet it is, and yet at
the same time how difficult, to be a mother! One's afraid of
everything."
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna put on her straw hat and dashed out into
the open sea. She swam some thirty feet and then turned on her
back. She could see the sea to the horizon, the steamers, the
people on the sea-front, the town; and all this, together with
the sultry heat and the soft, transparent waves, excited her and
whispered that she must live, live. . . . A sailing-boat darted
by her rapidly and vigorously, cleaving the waves and the air;
the man sitting at the helm looked at her, and she liked being
looked at. . . .
After bathing, the ladies dressed and went away together.
"I have fever every alternate day, and yet I don't get thin,"
said Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, licking her lips, which were salt
from the bathe, and responding with a smile to the bows of her
acquaintances. "I've always been plump, and now I believe I'm
plumper than ever."
"That, my dear, is constitutional. If, like me, one has no
constitutional tendency to stoutness, no diet is of any use. . .
. But you've wetted your hat, my dear."
"It doesn't matter; it will dry."
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna saw again the men in white who were walking
on the sea-front and talking French; and again she felt a sudden
thrill of joy, and had a vague memory of some big hall in which
she had once danced, or of which, perhaps, she had once dreamed.
And something at the bottom of her soul dimly and obscurely
whispered to her that she was a pretty, common, miserable,
worthless woman. . . .
Marya Konstantinovna stopped at her gate and asked her to come
in and sit down for a little while.
"Come in, my dear," she said in an imploring voice, and at the
same time she looked at Nadyezhda Fyodorovna with anxiety and
hope; perhaps she would refuse and not come in!
"With pleasure," said Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, accepting. "You know
how I love being with you!"
And she went into the house. Marya Konstantinovna sat her down
and gave her coffee, regaled her with milk rolls, then showed
her photographs of her former pupils, the Garatynskys, who were
by now married. She showed her, too, the examination reports of
Kostya and Katya. The reports were very good, but to make them
seem even better, she complained, with a sigh, how difficult the
lessons at school were now. . . . She made much of her visitor,
and was sorry for her, though at the same time she was harassed
by the thought that Nadyezhda Fyodorovna might have a corrupting
influence on the morals of Kostya and Katya, and was glad that
her Nikodim Alexandritch was not at home. Seeing that in her
opinion all men are fond of "women like that," Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna might have a bad effect on Nikodim Alexandritch too.
As she talked to her visitor, Marya Konstantinovna kept
remembering that they were to have a picnic that evening, and
that Von Koren had particularly begged her to say nothing about
it to the "Japanese monkeys" -- that is, Laevsky and Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna; but she dropped a word about it unawares, crimsoned,
and said in confusion:
"I hope you will come too!"
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