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

Lida smiled through her tears, and her very smile consoled her.

“Whatever happens, I mean to live!” she said with passionate energy.

“Good!” exclaimed Sanine, as he jumped up. “Nothing is more awful than the thought of death. But so long as you can bear the burden without losing perception of the sights and sounds of life, I say live! Am I not right? Now, give me your paw!”

Lida held out her hand. The shy, feminine gesture betokened childish gratitude.

“That’s right⁠ ⁠… What a pretty little hand you’ve got.”

Lida smiled and said nothing.

But Sanine’s words had not proved ineffectual. Hers was a vigorous, buoyant vitality; the crisis through which she had just passed had strained that vitality to the utmost. A little more pressure, and the string would have snapped. But the pressure was not applied, and her whole being vibrated once more with an impetuous, turbulent desire to live. She looked above, around her, in ecstasy, listening to the immense joy pulsating on every side; in the sunlight, in the green meadows, the shining stream, the calm, smiling face of her brother, and in herself. It was as if she now could see and hear all this for the first time. “To be alive!” cried a gladsome voice within her.

“All right!” said Sanine. “I will help you in your trouble, and stand by you when you fight your battles. And now, as you’re such a beauty, you must give me a kiss.”

Lida smiled; a smile mysterious as that of a wood-nymph. Sanine put his arms round her waist, and, as her warm supple form thrilled at his touch, his fond embrace became almost vehement. A strange, indefinable sense of joy overcame Lida, as she yearned for life ampler and more intense. It mattered not to her what she did. She slowly put both arms round her brother’s neck and, with half-closed eyes, set her lips tight to give the kiss.

She felt unspeakably happy beneath Sanine’s burning caress, and in that moment cared not who it was that kissed her, just as a flower warmed by the sun never asks whence comes such warmth.

“What is the matter with me?” she thought, pleasurably alarmed. “Ah! yes! I wanted to drown myself⁠ ⁠… how silly! And for what? Oh! that’s nice! Again! Again! Now, I’ll kiss you! It’s lovely! And I don’t care what happens so long as I’m alive, alive!”

“There, now, you see,” said Sanine, releasing her. “All good things are just good, and one mustn’t make them out to be anything else.”

Lida smiled absently, and slowly rearranged her hair. Sanine handed her the parasol and glove. To find the other glove was missing at first surprised her, but instantly recollecting the reason, she felt greatly amused at the absurd importance which she had given to that trifling incident.

“Ah! well, that’s over!” she thought, and walked with her brother along the riverbank. Fiercely the sun’s rays beat upon her round, ripe bosom.

Novikoff, when he opened the door himself to Sanine, looked far from pleased at the prospect of such a visit. Everything that reminded him of Lida and of his shattered dream of bliss caused him pain.

Sanine noticed this, and came into the room smiling affably. All there was in disorder, as if scattered by a whirlwind. Scraps of paper, straw, and rubbish of all sorts covered the floor. On the bed and the chairs lay books, linen, surgical instruments and a portmanteau.

“Going away?” asked Sanine, in surprise. “Where?” Novikoff avoided the other’s glance and continued to overhaul the things, vexed at his own confusion. At last he said:

“Yes, I’ve got to leave this place. I’ve had my official notice.”

Sanine looked at him and then at the portmanteau. After another glance his features relaxed in a broad smile.

Novikoff was silent, oppressed by his sense of utter loneliness and his inconsolable grief. Lost in his thoughts, he proceeded to wrap up a pair of boots together with some glass tubes.

“If you pack like that,” said Sanine, “when you arrive you’ll find yourself minus either tubes or boots.”

Novikoff’s tear-stained eyes flashed back a reply. They said, “Ah! leave me alone! Surely you can see how sad I am!”

Sanine understood, and was silent.

The dreamy summer twilight-hour had come, and above the verdant garden the sky, clear as crystal, grew paler. At last Sanine spoke.

“Instead of going the deuce knows where, I think it would be much more sensible if you were to marry Lida.”

Novikoff turned round trembling.

“I must ask you to stop making such stupid jokes!” he said in a shrill, hard voice. It rang out through the dusk, and echoed among the dreaming garden-trees.

“Why so furious?” asked Sanine.

“Look here!” began Novikoff hoarsely. In his eyes there was such an expression of rage that Sanine scarcely recognized him.

“Do you mean to say that it wouldn’t be a lucky thing for you to marry Lida?” continued Sanine merrily.

“Shut up!” cried the other, staggering forward, and brandishing an old boot over Sanine’s head.

“Now then! Gently! Are you mad?” said Sanine sharply, as he stepped backwards.

Novikoff flung the boot away in disgust, breathing hard.

“With that boot you were actually going to⁠ ⁠…” Sanine stopped, and shook his head. He pitied his friend, though such behaviour seemed to him utterly ridiculous.

“It’s your fault,” stammered Novikoff in confusion.

And then, suddenly, he felt full of trust and sympathy for Sanine, strong and calm as he was. He himself resembled a little schoolboy, eager to tell someone of his trouble. Tears filled his eyes.

“If you only knew how sad at heart I am,” he murmured, striving to conquer his emotion.

“My dear fellow, I know all about it⁠—everything,” said Sanine kindly.

“No! You can’t know all!” said Novikoff, as he sat down beside the other. He thought that no one could possibly feel such sorrow as his.

“Yes, yes, I do,” replied Sanine, “I swear that I do; and if you’ll promise not to attack me with your old boot, I will prove what I say. Promise?”

“Yes, yes! Forgive