Among the persons assembled on the 18th of August at twelve o’clock on the platform at the railway station was Litvinov. Not long before, he had seen Irina: she was sitting in an open carriage with her husband and another gentleman, somewhat elderly. She caught sight of Litvinov, and he perceived that some obscure emotion flitted over her eyes; but at once she hid herself from him with her parasol. A strange transformation had taken place in him since the previous day—in his whole appearance, his movements, the expression of his face; and indeed he felt himself a different man. His self-confidence had vanished, and his peace of mind had vanished too, and his respect for himself; of his former spiritual condition nothing was left. Recent ineffaceable impressions obscured all the rest from him. Some sensation unknown before had come, strong, sweet—and evil; the mysterious guest had made its way to the innermost shrine and The train was a few minutes late. Litvinov’s suspense passed into agonising torture; he could not stop still in one place, and, pale all over, moved about jostling in the crowd. ‘My God,’ he thought, ‘if I only had another twenty-four hours.’... The first look at Tanya, the first look of Tanya ... that was what filled him with terror ... that was what he had to live through directly.... And afterwards? Afterwards ... come, what may come!... He now made no more resolutions, he could not answer for himself now. His phrase of yesterday flashed painfully through his head.... And this was how he was meeting Tanya.... A prolonged whistle sounded at last, a heavy momentarily increasing rumble was heard, and, slowly rolling round a bend in the line, the train came into sight. The crowd hurried to meet it, and Litvinov followed it, dragging his He helped them both to get out, uttered a few words of welcome, unfinished and confused, and at once bustled about, began taking their tickets, their travelling bags, and rugs, ran to find a porter, called a fly; other people were bustling around them. He was glad of their presence, their fuss, and loud talk. Tatyana moved a little aside, and, still smiling, waited calmly for his hurried arrangements to be concluded. Kapitolina Markovna, on the other hand, could not keep still; she could not believe that she was at last at Baden. She suddenly cried, ‘But the parasols? Tanya, where are our parasols?’ all unconscious that she was holding them fast under her arm; then she began taking a loud and prolonged farewell of another lady with whom she had made friends on the journey from Heidelberg to Baden. This lady was no other than our old friend Madame Suhantchikov. She had Litvinov at last put her and Tatyana into a fly, and placed himself opposite them. The horses started. Then followed questionings, renewed handshaking, interchanging of smiles and welcomes.... Litvinov breathed freely; the first moment had passed off satisfactorily. Nothing in him, apparently, had struck or bewildered Tanya; she was smiling just as brightly and confidently, she was blushing as charmingly, and laughing as goodnaturedly. He brought himself at last to take a look at her; not a stealthy cursory glance, but a direct steady look at her, hitherto his own eyes had refused to obey him. His heart throbbed with involuntary emotion: the serene expression of that honest, candid face gave him a pang of bitter reproach. ‘So you are here, poor girl,’ he thought, ‘you whom I have so longed for, so urged to come, with whom I had hoped to spend my life to the end, you have come, you believed in me ... ‘What is that building with columns? Where is it the gambling’s done? Who is that coming along? Tanya, Tanya, look, what crinolines! And who can that be? I suppose they are mostly French creatures from Paris here? Mercy, what a hat! Can you get everything here just as in Paris? But, I expect, everything’s awfully dear, eh? Ah, I’ve made the acquaintance of such a splendid, intellectual woman! You know her, Grigory Mihalitch; she told me she had met you at some Russian’s, who’s a wonderfully intellectual person too. She promised to come and see us. How she does abuse all these aristocrats—it’s simply superb! What is that gentleman with grey moustaches? The Prussian king? Tanya, Tanya, look, that’s the Prussian king. No? not the Prussian king, the Dutch ambassador, did you say? I can’t hear, the wheels rattle so. Ah, what exquisite trees!’ ‘Yes, exquisite, aunt,’ Tanya assented, ‘and how green everything is here, how bright and gay! Isn’t it, Grigory Mihalitch?’ ‘Oh, very bright and gay’ ... he answered through his teeth. The carriage stopped at last before the hotel. The hour had not yet passed when a waiter came to Litvinov from the newly arrived ladies; they begged him to come to them in the public drawing-room. He followed the messenger, She was walking towards him with her husband and Potugin. Litvinov turned white as a sheet; he did not slacken his pace, however, and when he was on a level with her, he made a bow without speaking. She too bowed to him, politely, but coldly, and taking in Tatyana in a rapid glance, she glided by.... Ratmirov lifted his hat high, Potugin muttered something. ‘Who is that lady?’ Tatyana asked suddenly. Till that instant she had hardly opened her lips. ‘That lady?’ repeated Litvinov, ‘that lady? That is a Madame Ratmirov.’ ‘Is she Russian?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did you make her acquaintance here?’ ‘No; I have known her a long while.’ ‘How beautiful she is!’ ‘Did you notice her dress?’ put in Kapitolina Markovna. ‘Ten families might live for a whole year on the cost of her lace alone. Was that her husband with her?’ she inquired turning to Litvinov. ‘Yes.’ ‘He must be awfully rich, I suppose?’ ‘Really I don’t know; I don’t think so.’ ‘What is his rank?’ ‘He’s a general.’ ‘What eyes she has!’ said Tatyana, ‘and what a strange expression in them: pensive and penetrating at the same time.... I have never seen such eyes.’ Litvinov made no answer; he fancied that he felt again Tatyana’s questioning glance bent on his face, but he was wrong, she was looking at her own feet, at the sand of the path. ‘Mercy on us! Who is that fright?’ cried Kapitolina Markovna suddenly, pointing to a low jaunting-car in which a red-haired pug-nosed woman lay lolling impudently, in an extraordinarily gorgeous costume and lilac stockings. ‘That fright! why, that’s the celebrated Ma’mselle Cora.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Ma’mselle Cora ... a Parisian ... notoriety.’ ‘What? That pug? Why, but she’s hideous!’ ‘It seems that’s no hindrance.’ Kapitolina Markovna could only lift her hands in astonishment. ‘Well, this Baden of yours!’ she brought out at last. ‘Can one sit down on a seat here? I’m rather tired.’ ‘Of course you can, Kapitolina Markovna.... That’s what the seats are put here for.’ ‘Well, really, there’s no knowing! But there in Paris, I’m told, there are seats, too, along the boulevards; but it’s not proper to sit on them.’ Litvinov made no reply to Kapitolina Markovna; only at that moment he realised that two paces away was the very spot where he had had that explanation with Irina, which had decided everything. Then he recalled that he had noticed a small rosy spot on her cheek to-day.... Kapitolina Markovna sank down on to the seat, Tatyana sat down beside her. Litvinov remained on the path; between Tatyana and him—or was it only his fancy?—something ‘Ah, she’s a wretch, a perfect wretch!’ Kapitolina Markovna declared, shaking her head commiseratingly; ‘why, with the price of her get-up, you could keep not ten, but a hundred families. Did you see under her hat, on her red hair, there were diamonds? Upon my word, diamonds in the day-time!’ ‘Her hair’s not red,’ remarked Litvinov; ‘she dyes it red—that’s the fashion now.’ Again Kapitolina Markovna could only lift her hands; she was positively dumbfounded. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘where we were, in Dresden, things had not got to such a scandalous pitch yet. It’s a little further from Paris, anyway, that’s why. Don’t you think that’s it, Grigory Mihalitch, eh?’ ‘Don’t I think so?’ answered Litvinov. While he thought to himself, ‘What on earth is she talking of?’ ‘I? Of course ... of course....’ But at this point the sound of slow footsteps was heard, and Potugin approached the seat. ‘Good-morning, Grigory Mihalitch,’ he began, smiling and nodding. Litvinov grasped him by the hand at once. ‘Good-morning, good-morning, Sozont Ivanitch. I fancy I passed you just now with ... just now in the avenue?’ ‘Yes, it was me.’ Potugin bowed respectfully to the ladies sitting on the seat. ‘Let me introduce you, Sozont Ivanitch. Old friends and relatives of mine, who have only just arrived in Baden. Potugin, Sozont Ivanitch, a countryman of ours, also staying in Baden.’ Both ladies rose a little. Potugin renewed his bows. ‘It’s quite a levÉe here,’ Kapitolina Markovna began in a delicate voice; the kind-hearted old lady was easily intimidated, but she tried before all to keep up her dignity. ‘Every one regards it as an agreeable duty to stay here.’ ‘Baden is an agreeable place, certainly,’ answered Potugin, with a sidelong look at Tatyana; ‘a very agreeable place, Baden.’ ‘Yes; but it’s really too aristocratic, so far as I can form an opinion. You see we have been staying all this time in Dresden ... a very interesting town; but here there’s positively a levÉe.’ ‘She’s pleased with the word,’ thought Potugin. ‘You are perfectly right in that observation,’ he said aloud; ‘but then the scenery here is exquisite, and the site of the place is something one cannot often find. Your fellow-traveller especially is sure to appreciate that. Are you not, madam?’ he Tatyana raised her large, clear eyes to Potugin. It seemed as though she were perplexed. What was wanted of her, and why had Litvinov introduced her, on the first day of her arrival, to this unknown man, who had, though, a kind and clever face, and was looking at her with cordial and friendly eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said at last, ‘it’s very nice here.’ ‘You ought to visit the old castle,’ Potugin went on; ‘I especially advise a drive to——’ ‘The Saxon Switzerland——’ Kapitolina Markovna was beginning. The blare of wind instruments floated up the avenue; it was the Prussian military band from Rastadt (in 1862 Rastadt was still an allied fortress), beginning its weekly concert in the pavilion. Kapitolina Markovna got up. ‘The music!’ she said; ‘the music À la Conversation!... We must go there. It’s four o’clock now ... isn’t it? Will the fashionable world be there now?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Potugin: ‘this is the most fashionable time, and the music is excellent.’ ‘Well, then, don’t let us linger. Tanya, come along.’ ‘You allow me to accompany you?’ asked Potugin, to Litvinov’s considerable astonishment; Kapitolina Markovna simpered. ‘With the greatest pleasure—M’sieu ... M’sieu——’ ‘Potugin,’ he murmured, and he offered her his arm. Litvinov gave his to Tatyana, and both couples walked towards the Konversation Hall. Potugin went on talking with Kapitolina Markovna. But Litvinov walked without uttering a word; yet twice, without any cause, he smiled, and faintly pressed Tatyana’s arm against his. There was a falsehood in those demonstrations, to which she made no response, and Litvinov was conscious of the lie. They did not express a mutual confidence in the close union of two souls given up to one another; they were a temporary substitute—for words which he could not find. That unspoken something which was beginning between them grew and gained strength. Once more Tatyana looked attentively, almost intently, at him. It was the same before the Konversation Hall at the little table round which they all four seated themselves, with this sole difference, that, in the noisy bustle of the crowd, the clash and roar of the music, Litvinov’s silence seemed more comprehensible. Kapitolina Markovna Potugin turned to Tatyana, and began a conversation with her in a soft, subdued voice, his face bent slightly down towards her with a very friendly expression; and she, to her own surprise, answered him easily and freely; she was glad to talk with this stranger, this outsider, while Litvinov sat immovable as before, with the same fixed and unpleasant smile on his lips. Dinner-time came at last. The music ceased, the crowd thinned. Kapitolina Markovna parted from Madame Suhantchikov on the warmest terms. She had conceived an immense respect for her, though she did say afterwards to her niece, that ‘this person is really too severe; but then she does know everything and everybody; and we must really get sewing-machines directly the wedding festivities are over.’ Potugin took leave of them; Litvinov conducted his ladies home. As they were going into the Litvinov withdrew hurriedly, not waiting for remonstrances; Kapitolina Markovna lay down on the sofa, and with one or two sighs and groans, fell into a serene sleep; while Tatyana moved away into a corner, and sat down in a low chair, folding her arms tightly across her bosom. |