Sanine by Mikhail Artsybashev (ebook pdf reader for pc .TXT) 📕

started, fearful lest his words about Lida Sanina should have been heard by someone else. But Ivanoff had hailed him from the roadway, and was not even visible.

“Yes, yes, he’s at home!” cried Sarudine from the window.

In the anteroom there was a noise of laughter and clattering of feet, as if the house were being invaded by a merry crowd. Then Ivanoff, Novikoff, Captain Malinowsky, two other officers, and Sanine all appeared.

“Hurrah!” cried Malinowsky, as he pushed his way in. His face was purple, he had fat, flabby cheeks and a moustache like two wisps of straw. “How are you, boys?”

“Bang goes another twenty-five-rouble note!” thought Sarudine with some irritation.

As he was mainly anxious, however, not to lose his reputation for being a wealthy, openhanded fellow, he exclaimed, smiling,

“Hallo! Where are you all going? Here! Tcherepanoff get some vodka, and whatever’s wanted. Run across to the club and order some beer. You would like some beer, gentlemen, eh? A hot day like this?”

When beer and vodka had been brought, the din grew greater. All were laughing, and shouting and drinking, apparently bent on making as much noise as possible. Only Novikoff seemed moody and depressed; his good-tempered face wore an evil expression.

It was not until yesterday that he had discovered what the whole town had been talking about; and at first a sense of humiliation and jealousy utterly overcame him.

“It’s impossible! It’s absurd! Silly gossip!” he said to himself, refusing to believe that Lida, so fair, so proud, so unapproachable, Lida whom he so deeply loved, could possibly have scandalously compromised herself with such a creature as Sarudine whom he looked upon as infinitely inferior and more stupid than himself. Then wild, bestial jealousy took possession of his soul. He had moments of the bitterest despair, and anon he was consumed by fierce hatred of Lida, and specially of Sarudine, To his placid, indolent temperament this feeling was so strange that it craved an outlet. All night long he had pitied himself, even thinking of suicide, but when morning came he only longed with a wild, inexplicable longing to set eyes upon Sarudine.

Now amid the noise and drunken laughter, he sat apart, drinking mechanically glass after glass, while intently watching every movement of Sarudine’s, much as some wild beast in a wood watches another wild beast, pretending to see nothing, yet ever ready to spring. Everything about Sarudine, his smile, his white teeth, his good looks, his voice, were for Novikoff, all so many daggers thrust into an open wound.

“Sarudine,” said a tall lean officer with exceptionally long, unwieldy arms, “I’ve brought you a book.”

Above the general clamour Novikoff instantly caught the name, Sarudine, and the sound of his voice, as well, all other voices seeming mute.

“What sort of book?”

“It’s about women, by Tolstoy,” replied the lanky officer, raising his voice as if he were making a report. On his long sallow face there was a look of evident pride at being able to read and discuss Tolstoy.

“Do you read Tolstoy?” asked Ivanoff, who had noticed this naively complacent expression.

“Von Deitz is mad about Tolstoy,” exclaimed Malinowsky, with a loud guffaw.

Sarudine took the slender red-covered pamphlet, and, turning over a few pages, said,

“Is it interesting?”

“You’ll see for yourself,” replied Von Deitz with enthusiasm. “There’s a brain for you, my word! It’s just as if one had known it all one’s self!”

“But why should Victor Sergejevitsch read Tolstoy when he has his own special views concerning women?” asked Novikoff, in a low tone, not taking his eyes off his glass.

“What makes you think that?” rejoined Sarudine warily, scenting an attack.

Novikoff was silent. With all that was in him, he longed to hit Sarudine full in the face, that pretty self-satisfied-looking face, to fling him to the ground, and kick him, in a blind fury of passion. But the words that he wanted would not come; he knew, and it tortured him the more to know, that he was saying the wrong thing, as with a sneer, he replied.

“It is enough to look at you, to know that.”

The strange, menacing tone of his voice produced a sudden lull, almost as if a murder had been committed. Ivanoff guessed what was the matter.

“It seems to me that⁠ ⁠…” began Sarudine coldly. His manner had changed somewhat, though he did not lose his self-control.

“Come, come, gentlemen! What’s the matter?” cried Ivanoff.

“Don’t interfere! Let them fight it out!” interposed Sanine, laughing.

“It does not seem, but it is so!” said Novikoff, in the same tone, his eyes still fixed on his glass.

Instantly, as it were, a living wall rose up between the rivals, amid much shouting, waving of arms, and expressions of amusement or of surprise. Sarudine was held back by Malinowsky and Von Deitz, while Ivanoff and the other officers kept Novikoff in check. Ivanoff filled up the glasses, and shouted out something, addressing no one in particular. The gaiety was now forced and insincere, and Novikoff felt suddenly that he must get away.

He could bear it no longer. Smiling foolishly, he turned to Ivanoff and the officers who were trying to engage his attention.

“What is the matter with me?” he thought, half-dazed. “I suppose I ought to strike him⁠ ⁠… rush at him, and give him one in the eye! Otherwise, I shall look such a fool, for they must all have guessed that I wanted to pick a quarrel.⁠ ⁠…”

But, instead of doing this, he pretended to be interested in what Ivanoff and Von Deitz were saying.

“As regards women, I don’t altogether agree with Tolstoy,” said the officer complacently.

“A woman’s just a female,” replied Ivanoff, “In every thousand men you might find one worthy to be called a man. But women, bah! They’re all alike⁠—just little naked, plump, rosy apes without tails!”

“Rather smart, that!” said Von Deitz, approvingly.

“And true, too,” thought Novikoff, bitterly.

“My dear fellow,” continued Ivanoff, waving his hands close to the other’s nose, “I’ll tell you what, if you were to go to people and say, ‘Whatsoever woman looketh on a man to lust