Part 13 (2/2)

XXIV.[A]

[Footnote A: Omitted in the French translation.]

On entering the drawing-room, after his return home, Lavretsky met a tall, thin man, with a wrinkled but animated face, untidy grey whiskers, a long, straight nose, and small, inflamed eyes. This individual, who was dressed in a shabby blue surtout, was Mikhalevich, his former comrade at the University. At first Lavretsky did not recognize him, but he warmly embraced him as soon as he had made himself known. The two friends had not seen each other since the old Moscow days. Then followed exclamations and questions. Memories long lost to sight came out again into the light of day. Smoking pipe after pipe in a hurried manner, gulping down his tea, and waving his long hands in the air, Mikhalevich related his adventures. There was nothing very brilliant about them, and he could boast of but little success in his various enterprises; but he kept incessantly laughing a hoa.r.s.e, nervous laugh. It seemed that about a month previously he had obtained a post in the private counting-house of a rich brandy-farmer,[A] at about three hundred versts from O., and having heard of Lavretsky's return from abroad, he had turned out of his road for the purpose of seeing his old friend again. He spoke just as jerkingly as he used to do in the days of youth, and he became as noisy and as warm as he was in the habit of growing then. Lavretsky began to speak about his own affairs, but Mikhalevich stopped him, hastily stammering out, ”I have heard about it, brother; I have heard about it. Who could have expected it?” and then immediately turned the conversation on topics of general interest.

[Footnote A: One of the contractors who used to purchase the right of supplying the people with brandy.]

”I must go away again to-morrow, brother,” he said. ”To-day, if you will allow it, we will sit up late. I want to get a thoroughly good idea of what you are now, what your intentions are and your convictions, what sort of man you have become, what life has taught you” (Mikhalevich still made use of the phraseology current in the year 1830). ”As for me, brother, I have become changed in many respects. The waters of life have gone over my breast. Who was it said that? But in what is important, what is substantial, I have not changed. I believe, as I used to do, in the Good, in the True. And not only do I believe, but I feel certain now--yes, I feel certain, certain. Listen; I make verses, you know. There's no poetry in them, but there is truth. I will read you my last piece. I have expressed in it my most sincere convictions. Now listen.”

Mikhalevich began to read his poem, which was rather a long one. It ended with the following lines:--

”With my whole heart have I given myself up to new feelings; In spirit I have become like unto a child, And I have burnt all that I used to wors.h.i.+p, I wors.h.i.+p all that I used to burn.”

Mikhalevich all but wept as he p.r.o.nounced these last two verses. A slight twitching, the sign of a strong emotion, affected his large lips; his plain face lighted up. Lavretsky went on listening until at last the spirit of contradiction was roused within him. He became irritated by the Moscow student's enthusiasm, so perpetually on the boil, so continually ready for use. A quarter of an hour had not elapsed before a dispute had been kindled between the two friends, one of those endless disputes of which only Russians are capable. They two, after a separation which had lasted for many years, and those pa.s.sed in two different worlds, neither of them clearly understanding the other's thoughts, not even his own, holding fast by words, and differing in words alone, disputed about the most purely abstract ideas--and disputed exactly as if the matter had been one of life and death to both of them. They shouted and cried aloud to such an extent that every one in the house was disturbed, and poor Lemm, who had shut himself up in his room the moment Mikhalevich arrived, felt utterly perplexed, and even began to entertain some vague form of fear.

”But after all this, what are you? _blase_!”[A] cried Mikhalevich at midnight.

[Footnote A: Literally, ”disillusioned.”]

”Does a _blase_ man ever look like me?” answered Lavretsky. ”He is always pale and sickly; but I, if you like, will lift you off the ground with one hand.”

”Well then, if not _blase_, at least a sceptic,[A] and that is still worse. But what right have you to be a sceptic? Your life has not been a success, I admit. That wasn't your fault. You were endowed with a soul full of affection, fit for pa.s.sionate love, and you were kept away from women by force. The first woman you came across was sure to take you in.”

[Footnote A: He says in that original _Skyeptuik_ instead of _Skeptik_, on which the author remarks, ”Mikhalevich's accent testified to his birth-place having been in Little Russia.”]

”She took you in, too,” morosely remarked Lavretsky.

”Granted, granted. In that I was the tool of fate. But I'm talking nonsense. There's no such thing as fate. My old habit of expressing myself inaccurately! But what does that prove?”

”It proves this much, that I have been distorted from childhood.”

”Well, then, straighten yourself. That's the good of being a man.

You haven't got to borrow energy. But, however that may be, is it possible, is it allowable, to work upwards from an isolated fact, so to speak, to a general law--to an invariable rule?”

”What rule?” said Lavretsky, interrupting him. ”I do not admit--”

”No, that is your rule, that is your rule,” cried the other, interrupting him in his turn.

”You are an egotist, that's what it is!” thundered Mikhalevich an hour later. ”You wanted self-enjoyment; you wanted a happy life; you wanted to live only for yourself--”

”What is self-enjoyment?”

”--And every thing has failed you; everything has given way under your feet.”

”But what is self-enjoyment, I ask you?”

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