Part 22 (2/2)

'I will tell you one thing more; I have no distaste for reflection ...

it's amusing, and indeed our brains are given us for that; but on the consequences of what I do I never reflect, and if I suffer I don't pity myself--not a little bit; it's not worth it. I have a favourite saying: _Cela ne tire pas a consequence_,--I don't know how to say that in Russian. And after all, what does _tire a consequence_? I shan't be asked to give an account of myself here, you see--in this world; and up there (she pointed upwards with her finger), well, up there--let them manage as best they can. When they come to judge me up there, _I_ shall not be _I_! Are you listening to me? Aren't you bored?'

Sanin was sitting bent up. He raised his head. 'I'm not at all bored, Maria Nikolaevna, and I am listening to you with curiosity. Only I ...

confess ... I wonder why you say all this to me?'

Maria Nikolaevna edged a little away on the sofa.

'You wonder?... Are you slow to guess? Or so modest?'

Sanin lifted his head higher than before.

'I tell you all this,' Maria Nikolaevna continued in an unmoved tone, which did not, however, at all correspond with the expression of her face, 'because I like you very much; yes, don't be surprised, I'm not joking; because since I have met you, it would be painful to me that you had a disagreeable recollection of me ... not disagreeable even, that I shouldn't mind, but untrue. That's why I have made you come here, and am staying alone with you and talking to you so openly....

Yes, yes, openly. I'm not telling a lie. And observe, Dimitri Pavlovitch, I know you're in love with another woman, that you're going to be married to her.... Do justice to my disinterestedness!

Though indeed it's a good opportunity for you to say in your turn: _Cela ne tire pas a consequence_!'

She laughed, but her laugh suddenly broke off, and she stayed motionless, as though her own words had suddenly struck her, and in her eyes, usually so gay and bold, there was a gleam of something like timidity, even like sadness.

'Snake! ah, she's a snake!' Sanin was thinking meanwhile; 'but what a lovely snake!'

'Give me my opera-gla.s.s,' Maria Nikolaevna said suddenly. 'I want to see whether this _jeune premiere_ really is so ugly. Upon my word, one might fancy the government appointed her in the interests of morality, so that the young men might not lose their heads over her.'

Sanin handed her the opera-gla.s.s, and as she took it from him, swiftly, but hardly audibly, she s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand in both of hers.

'Please don't be serious,' she whispered with a smile. 'Do you know what, no one can put fetters on me, but then you see I put no fetters on others. I love freedom, and I don't acknowledge duties--not only for myself. Now move to one side a little, and let us listen to the play.'

Maria Nikolaevna turned her opera-gla.s.s upon the stage, and Sanin proceeded to look in the same direction, sitting beside her in the half dark of the box, and involuntarily drinking in the warmth and fragrance of her luxurious body, and as involuntarily turning over and over in his head all she had said during the evening--especially during the last minutes.

XL

The play lasted over an hour longer, but Maria Nikolaevna and Sanin soon gave up looking at the stage. A conversation sprang up between them again, and went on the same lines as before; only this time Sanin was less silent. Inwardly he was angry with himself and with Maria Nikolaevna; he tried to prove to her all the inconsistency of her 'theory,' as though she cared for theories! He began arguing with her, at which she was secretly rejoiced; if a man argues, it means that he is giving in or will give in. He had taken the bait, was giving way, had left off keeping shyly aloof! She retorted, laughed, agreed, mused dreamily, attacked him ... and meanwhile his face and her face were close together, his eyes no longer avoided her eyes.... Those eyes of hers seemed to ramble, seemed to hover over his features, and he smiled in response to them--a smile of civility, but still a smile.

It was so much gained for her that he had gone off into abstractions, that he was discoursing upon truth in personal relations, upon duty, the sacredness of love and marriage.... It is well known that these abstract propositions serve admirably as a beginning ... as a starting-point....

People who knew Maria Nikolaevna well used to maintain that when her strong and vigorous personality showed signs of something soft and modest, something almost of maidenly shamefacedness, though one wondered where she could have got it from ... then ... then, things were taking a dangerous turn.

Things had apparently taken such a turn for Sanin.... He would have felt contempt for himself, if he could have succeeded in concentrating his attention for one instant; but he had not time to concentrate his mind nor to despise himself.

She wasted no time. And it all came from his being so very good-looking! One can but exclaim, No man knows what may be his making or his undoing!

The play was over. Maria Nikolaevna asked Sanin to put on her shawl and did not stir, while he wrapped the soft fabric round her really queenly shoulders. Then she took his arm, went out into the corridor, and almost cried out aloud. At the very door of the box Donhof sprang up like some apparition; while behind his back she got a glimpse of the figure of the Wiesbaden critic. The 'literary man's' oily face was positively radiant with malignancy.

'Is it your wish, madam, that I find you your carriage?' said the young officer addressing Maria Nikolaevna with a quiver of ill-disguised fury in his voice.

'No, thank you,' she answered ... 'my man will find it. Stop!' she added in an imperious whisper, and rapidly withdrew drawing Sanin along with her.

'Go to the devil! Why are you staring at me?' Donhof roared suddenly at the literary man. He had to vent his feelings upon some one!

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