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

terrier jumped up, and with ears erect watched her go. Then it rubbed its nose with its front paw, gave another questioning glance at the house and ran off into the garden.

“Have you got any cigarettes?” asked Sanine, delighted at his mother’s departure.

Novikoff with a lazy movement of his large body produced a cigarette-case.

“You ought not to tease her so,” said he, in a voice of gentle reproof. “She’s an old lady.”

“How have I teased her?”

“Well, you see⁠—”

“What do you mean by ‘well, you see?’ It is she who is always after me. I have never asked anything of anybody, and therefore people ought to leave me alone.”

Both remained silent.

“Well, how goes it, doctor?” asked Sanine, as he watched the tobacco-smoke rising in fantastic curves above his head.

Novikoff, who was thinking of something else, did not answer at once.

“Badly.”

“In what way?”

“Oh! in every way. Everything is so dull and this little town bores me to death. There’s nothing to do.”

“Nothing to do? Why it was you that complained of not having time to breathe!”

“That is not what I mean. One can’t be always seeing patients, seeing patients. There is another life besides that.”

“And who prevents you from living that other life?”

“That is rather a complicated question.”

“In what way is it complicated? You are a young, good-looking, healthy man; what more do you want?”

“In my opinion that is not enough,” replied Novikoff, with mild irony.

“Really!” laughed Sanine. “Well, I think it is a very great deal.”

“But not enough for me,” said Novikoff, laughing in his turn. It was plain that Sanine’s remark about his health and good looks had pleased him, and yet it had made him feel shy as a girl.

“There’s one thing that you want,” said Sanine, pensively.

“And what is that?”

“A just conception of life. The monotony of your existence oppresses you; and yet, if someone advised you to give it all up, and go straight away into the wide world, you would be afraid to do so.”

“And as what should I go? As a beggar? H⁠ ⁠… m!”

“Yes, as a beggar, even! When I look at you, I think: there is a man who in order to give the Russian Empire a constitution would let himself be shut up in Schlusselburg1 for the rest of his life, losing all his rights, and his liberty as well. After all, what is a constitution to him? But when it is a question of altering his own tedious mode of life, and of going elsewhere to find new interests, he at once asks, ‘how should I get a living? Strong and healthy as I am, should I not come to grief if I had not got my fixed salary, and consequently cream in my tea, my silk shirts, stand-up collars, and all the rest of it?’ It’s funny, upon my word it is!”

“I cannot see anything funny in it at all. In the first case, it is the question of a cause, an idea, whereas in the other⁠—”

“Well?”

“Oh! I don’t know how to express myself!” And Novikoff snapped his fingers.

“There now!” said Sanine, interrupting. “That’s how you always evade the point. I shall never believe that the longing for a constitution is stronger in you than the longing to make the most of your own life.”

“That is just a question. Possibly it is.”

Sanine waved his hand, irritably.

“Oh! don’t, please! If somebody were to cut off your finger, you would feel it more than if it were some other Russian’s finger. That is a fact, eh?”

“Or a cynicism,” said Novikoff, meaning to be sarcastic when he was merely foolish.

“Possibly. But, all the same, it is the truth. And now though in Russia and in many other States there is no constitution, nor the slightest sign of one, it is your own unsatisfactory life that worries you, not the absence of a constitution. And if you say it isn’t, then you’re telling a lie. What is more,” added Sanine, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, “you are worried not about your life but because Lida has not yet fallen in love with you. Now, isn’t that so?”

“What utter nonsense you’re talking!” cried Novikoff, turning as red as his silk shirt. So confused was he, that tears rose to his calm, kindly eyes.

“How is it nonsense, when besides Lida you can see nothing else in the whole world? The wish to possess her is written in large letters on your brow.”

Novikoff winced perceptibly and began to walk rapidly up and down the path. If anyone but Lida’s brother had spoken to him in this way it would have pained him deeply, but to hear such words from Sanine’s mouth amazed him; in fact at first he scarcely understood them.

“Look here,” he muttered, “either you are posing, or else⁠—”

“Or else⁠—what?” asked Sanine, smiling.

Novikoff looked aside, shrugged his shoulders, and was silent. The other inference led him to regard Sanine as an immoral, bad man. But he could not tell him this, for, ever since their college days, he had always felt sincere affection for him, and it seemed to Novikoff impossible that he should have chosen a wicked man as his friend. The effect on his mind was at once bewildering and unpleasant. The allusion to Lida pained him, but, as the goddess whom he adored, he could not feel angry with Sanine for speaking of her. It pleased him, and yet he felt hurt, as if a burning hand had seized his heart and had gently pressed it.

Sanine was silent, and smiled good-humouredly.

After a pause he said:

“Well, finish your statement; I am in no hurry!”

Novikoff kept walking up and down the path, as before. He was evidently hurt. At this moment the terrier came running back excitedly and rubbed against Sanine’s knees, as if wishful to let everyone know how pleased he was.

“Good dog!” said Sanine, patting him.

Novikoff strove to avoid continuing the discussion, being afraid that Sanine might return to the subject which for personally was the most interesting in