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

say?⁠ ⁠… If one wishes to study life, and to form some definite conception of the mutual relationship of man to man, surely the best way is to get a thorough knowledge of the Titanic work of those who, representing the best models of humanity, devoted their lives to the solution of the simplest and most complex problems with regard to human relationships.”

“There I don’t agree with you,” retorted Goschienko.

“But I do,” cried Novikoff hotly.

Once more all was confusion and senseless uproar, during which it was impossible to hear either the beginning or the end of any utterance.

Reduced to silence by this war of words, Soloveitchik sat in a corner and listened. At first the expression on his face was one of intense, almost childish interest, but after a while his doubt and distress were shown by lines at the corners of his mouth and of his eyes.

Sanine drank, smoked, and said nothing. He looked thoroughly bored, and when amid the general clamour some of the voices became unduly violent, he got up, and extinguishing his cigarette, said:

“I say, do you know, this is getting uncommonly boring!”

“Yes, indeed!” cried Dubova.

“Sheer vanity and vexation of spirit!” said Ivanoff, who had been waiting for a fitting moment to drag in this favourite phrase of his.

“In what way?” asked the Polytechnic student, angrily.

Sanine took no notice of him, but, turning to Yourii, said:

“Do you really believe that you can get a conception of life from any book?”

“Most certainly I do,” replied Yourii, in a tone of surprise.

“Then you are wrong,” said Sanine. “If this were really so, one could mould the whole of humanity according to one type by giving people works to read of one tendency. A conception of life is only obtained from life itself, in its entirety, of which literature and human thought are but an infinitesimal part. No theory of life can help one to such a conception, for this depends upon the mood or frame of mind of each individual, which is consequently apt to vary so long as man lives. Thus, it is impossible to form such a hard and fast conception of life as you seem anxious to⁠ ⁠…”

“How do you mean⁠—‘impossible’?” cried Yourii angrily.

Sanine again looked bored, as he answered:

“Of course it’s impossible. If a conception of life were the outcome of a complete, definite theory, then the progress of human thought would soon be arrested; in fact it would cease. But such a thing is inadmissible. Every moment of life speaks its new word, its new message to us, and, to this we must listen and understand it, without first of all fixing limits for ourselves. After all, what’s the good of discussing it? Think what you like. I would merely ask why you, who have read hundreds of books from Ecclesiastes to Marx, have not yet been able to form any definite conception of life?”

“Why do you suppose that I have not?” asked Yourii, and his dark eyes flashed menacingly. “Perhaps my conception of life may be a wrong one, but I have it.”

“Very well, then,” said Sanine, “why seek to acquire another?”

Pistzoff tittered.

“Hush!” cried Koudriavji contemptuously, as his neck twitched.

“How clever he is!” thought Sina Karsavina, full of naive admiration for Sanine. She looked at him, and then at Svarogitsch, feeling almost bashful, and yet strangely glad. It was as if the two disputants were arguing as to who should possess her.

“Thus, it follows,” continued Sanine, “that you do not need what you are vainly seeking. To me it is evident that every person here tonight is endeavouring to force the others to accept his views, being himself mortally afraid lest others should persuade him to think as they do. Well, to be quite frank, that is boring.”

“One moment! Allow me!” exclaimed Goschienko.

“Oh I that will do!” said Sanine, with a gesture of annoyance. “I expect that you have a most wonderful conception of life, and have read heaps of books. One can see that directly. Yet you lose your temper because everybody doesn’t agree with you; and, what is more, you behave rudely to Soloveitchik, who has certainly never done you any harm.” Goschienko was silent, looking utterly amazed, as if Sanine had said something most extraordinary.

“Yourii Nicolaijevitch,” said Sanine cheerily, “you must not be angry with me because I spoke somewhat bluntly just now. I can see that in your soul discord reigns.”

“Discord?” exclaimed Yourii, reddening. He did not know whether he ought to be angry or not. Just as it had done during their walk to the meeting, Sanine’s calm, friendly voice pleasantly impressed him.

“Ah! you know yourself that it is so!” replied Sanine, with a smile. “But it won’t do to pay any attention to such childish nonsense. Life’s really too short.”

“Look here,” shouted Goschienko, purple with rage, “You take far too much upon yourself!”

“Not more than you do.”

“How’s that?”

“Think it out for yourself,” said Sanine. “What you say and do is far ruder and more unamiable than anything that I say.”

“I don’t understand you!”

“That’s not my fault.”

“What?”

To this Sanine made no reply, but taking up his cap, said:

“I’m off. It is getting a bit too dull for me.”

“You’re right! And there’s no more beer!” added Ivanoff, as he moved towards the anteroom.

“We shan’t get along like this; that’s very clear,” said Dubova.

“Walk back with me, Yourii Nicolaijevitch,” cried Sina.

Then, turning to Sanine, she said “Au revoir!”

For a moment their eyes met. Sina felt pleasurably alarmed.

“Alas!” cried Dubova, as she went out, “our little club has collapsed before it has even been properly started.”

“But why is that?” said a mournful voice, as Soloveitchik, who was getting in everyone’s way, stumbled forward.

Until this moment his existence had been ignored, and many were struck by the forlorn expression of his countenance.

“I say, Soloveitchik,” said Sanine pensively, “one day I must come and see you, and we’ll have a chat.”

“By all means! Pray do so!” said Soloveitchik, bowing effusively.

On coming out of the lighted room, the darkness seemed so intense that nobody was