the wife and other stories- 第13部分

Between　four　and　five　she　dined　at　home　with　her　husband。　His　simplicity；　good　sense；　and　kind…heartedness　touched　her　and　moved　her　up　to　enthusiasm。　She　was　constantly　jumping　up；　impulsively　hugging　his　head　and　showering　kisses　on　it。

〃You　are　a　clever；　generous　man；　Dymov；〃　she　used　to　say；　〃but　you　have　one　very　serious　defect。　You　take　absolutely　no　interest　in　art。　You　don't　believe　in　music　or　painting。〃

〃I　don't　understand　them；〃　he　would　say　mildly。　〃I　have　spent　all　my　life　in　working　at　natural　science　and　medicine；　and　I　have　never　had　time　to　take　an　interest　in　the　arts。〃

〃But；　you　know；　that's　awful；　Dymov！〃

〃Why　so？　Your　friends　don't　know　a　nything　of　science　or　medicine；　but　you　don't　reproach　them　with　it。　Every　one　has　his　own　line。　I　don't　understand　landscapes　and　operas；　but　the　way　I　look　at　it　is　that　if　one　set　of　sensible　people　devote　their　whole　lives　to　them；　and　other　sensible　people　pay　immense　sums　for　them；　they　must　be　of　use。　I　don't　understand　them；　but　not　understanding　does　not　imply　disbelieving　in　them。〃

〃Let　me　shake　your　honest　hand！〃

After　dinner　Olga　Ivanovna　would　drive　off　to　see　her　friends；　then　to　a　theatre　or　to　a　concert；　and　she　returned　home　after　midnight。　So　it　was　every　day。

On　Wednesdays　she　had　〃At　Homes。〃　At　these　〃At　Homes〃　the　hostess　and　her　guests　did　not　play　cards　and　did　not　dance；　but　entertained　themselves　with　various　arts。　An　actor　from　the　Dramatic　Theatre　recited；　a　singer　sang；　artists　sketched　in　the　albums　of　which　Olga　Ivanovna　had　a　great　number；　the　violoncellist　played；　and　the　hostess　herself　sketched；　carved；　sang；　and　played　accompaniments。　In　the　intervals　between　the　recitations；　music；　and　singing；　they　talked　and　argued　about　literature；　the　theatre；　and　painting。　There　were　no　ladies；　for　Olga　Ivanovna　considered　all　ladies　wearisome　and　vulgar　except　actresses　and　her　dressmaker。　Not　one　of　these　entertainments　passed　without　the　hostess　starting　at　every　ring　at　the　bell；　and　saying；　with　a　triumphant　expression；　〃It　is　he；〃　meaning　by　〃he；〃　of　course；　some　new　celebrity。　Dymov　was　not　in　the　drawing…room；　and　no　one　remembered　his　existence。　But　exactly　at　half…past　eleven　the　door　leading　into　the　dining…room　opened；　and　Dymov　would　appear　with　his　good…natured；　gentle　smile　and　say；　rubbing　his　hands：

〃Come　to　supper；　gentlemen。〃

They　all　went　into　the　dining…room；　and　every　time　found　on　the　table　exactly　the　same　things：　a　dish　of　oysters；　a　piece　of　ham　or　veal；　sardines；　cheese；　caviare；　mushrooms；　vodka；　and　two　decanters　of　wine。

My　dear　_maitre　d'　hotel！_〃　Olga　Ivanovna　would　say；　clasping　her　hands　with　enthusiasm；　〃you　are　simply　fascinating！　My　friends；　look　at　his　forehead！　Dymov；　turn　your　profile。　Look！　he　has　the　face　of　a　Bengal　tiger　and　an　expression　as　kind　and　sweet　as　a　gazelle。　Ah；　the　darling！〃

The　visitors　ate；　and；　looking　at　Dymov；　thought；　〃He　really　is　a　nice　fellow〃；　but　they　soon　forgot　about　him；　and　went　on　talking　about　the　theatre；　music；　and　painting。

The　young　people　were　happy；　and　their　life　flowed　on　without　a　hitch。

The　third　week　of　their　honeymoon　was　spent；　however；　not　quite　happily　　sadly；　indeed。　Dymov　caught　erysipelas　in　the　hospital；　was　in　bed　for　six　days；　and　had　to　have　his　beautiful　black　hair　cropped。　Olga　Ivanovna　sat　beside　him　and　wept　bitterly；　but　when　he　was　better　she　put　a　white　handkerchief　on　his　shaven　head　and　began　to　paint　him　as　a　Bedouin。　And　they　were　both　in　good　spirits。　Three　days　after　he　had　begun　to　go　back　to　the　hospital　he　had　another　mischance。

〃I　have　no　luck；　little　mother；〃　he　said　one　day　at　dinner。　〃I　had　four　dissections　to　do　today；　and　I　cut　two　of　my　fingers　at　one。　And　I　did　not　notice　it　till　I　got　home。〃

Olga　Ivanovna　was　alarmed。　He　smiled；　and　told　her　that　it　did　not　matter；　and　that　he　often　cut　his　hands　when　he　was　dissecting。

〃I　get　absorbed；　little　mother；　and　grow　careless。〃

Olga　Ivanovna　dreaded　symptoms　of　blood…poisoning；　and　prayed　about　it　every　night；　but　all　went　well。　And　again　life　flowed　on　peaceful　and　happy；　free　from　grief　and　anxiety。　The　present　was　happy；　and　to　follow　it　spring　was　at　hand；　already　smiling　in　the　distance；　and　promising　a　thousand　delights。　There　would　be　no　end　to　their　happiness。　In　April；　May　and　June　a　summer　villa　a　good　distance　out　of　town；　walks；　sketching；　fishing；　nightingales；　and　then　from　July　right　on　to　autumn　an　artist's　tour　on　the　Volga；　and　in　this　tour　Olga　Ivanovna　would　take　part　as　an　indispensable　member　of　the　society。　She　had　already　had　made　for　her　two　travelling　dresses　of　linen；　had　bought　paints；　brushes；　canvases；　and　a　new　palette　for　the　journey。　Almost　every　day　Ryabovsky　visited　her　to　see　what　progress　she　was　making　in　her　painting；　when　she　showed　him　her　painting；　he　used　to　thrust　his　hands　deep　into　his　pockets；　compress　his　lips；　sniff；　and　say：

〃Yees　。　。　。　！　That　cloud　of　yours　is　screaming：　it's　not　in　the　evening　light。　The　foreground　is　somehow　chewed　up；　and　there　is　something；　you　know；　not　the　thing。　。　。　。　And　your　cottage　is　weighed　down　and　whines　pitifully。　That　corner　ought　to　have　been　taken　more　in　shadow；　but　on　the　whole　it　is　not　bad；　I　like　it。〃

And　the　more　incomprehensible　he　talked；　the　more　readily　Olga　Ivanovna　understood　him。

III

After　dinner　on　the　second　day　of　Trinity　week；　Dymov　bought　some　sweets　and　some　savouries　and　went　down　to　the　villa　to　see　his　wife。　He　had　not　seen　her　for　a　fortnight；　and　missed　her　terribly。　As　he　sat　in　the　train　and　afterwards　as　he　looked　for　his　villa　in　a　big　wood；　he　felt　all　the　while　hungry　and　weary；　and　dreamed　of　how　he　would　have　supper　in　freedom　with　his　wife；　then　tumble　into　bed　and　to　sleep。　And　he　was　delighted　as　he　looked　at　his　parcel；　in　which　there　was　caviare；　cheese；　and　white　salmon。

The　sun　was　setting　by　the　time　he　found　his　villa　and　recognized　it。　The　old　servant　told　him　that　her　mistress　was　not　at　home；　but　that　most　likely　she　would　soon　be　in。　The　villa；　very　uninviting　in　appearance；　with　low　ceilings　papered　with　writing…paper　and　with　uneven　floors　full　of　crevices；　consisted　only　of　three　rooms。　In　one　there　was　a　bed；　in　the　second　there　were　canvases；　brushes；　greasy　papers；　and　men's　overcoats　and　hats　lying　about　on　the　chairs　and　in　the　windows；　while　in　the　third　Dymov　found　three　unknown　men；　two　were　dark…haired　and　had　beards；　the　other　was　clean…shaven　and　fat；　apparently　an　actor。　There　was　a　samovar　boiling　on　the　table。

〃What　do　you　want？〃　asked　the　actor　in　a　bass　voice；　looking　at　Dymov　ungraciously。　〃Do　you　want　Olga　Ivanovna？　Wait　a　minute；　she　will　be　here　directly。〃

Dymov　sat　down　and　waited。　One　of　the　dark…haired　men；　looking　sleepily　and　listlessly　at　him；　poured　himself　out　a　glass　of　tea；　and　asked：

〃Perhaps　you　would　like　some　tea？〃

Dymov　was　both　hungry　and　thirsty；　but　he　refused　tea　for　fear　of　spoiling　his　supper。　Soon　he　heard　footsteps　and　a　familiar　laugh；　a　door　slammed；　and　Olga　Ivanovna　ran　into　the　room；　wearing　a　wide…brimmed　hat　and　carrying　a　box　in　her　hand；　she　was　followed　by　Ryabovsky；　rosy　and　good…humoured；　carrying　a　big　umbrella　and　a　camp…stool。

〃Dymov！〃　cried　Olga　Ivanovna；　and　she　flushed　crimson　with　pleasure。　〃Dymov！〃　she　repeated；　laying　her　head　and　both　arms　on　his　bosom。　〃Is　that　you？　Why　haven't　you　come　for　so　long？　Why？　Why？〃

〃When　could　I；　little　mother？　I　am　always　busy；　and　whenever　I　am　free　it　always　happens　somehow　that　the　train　does　not　fit。〃

〃But　how　glad　I　am　to　see　you！　I　have　been　dreaming　about　you　the　whole　night；　the　whole　night；　and　I　was　afraid　you　must　be　ill。　Ah！　if　you　only　knew　how　sweet　you　are！　You　have　come　in　the　nick　of　time！　You　will　be　my　salvation！　You　are　the　only　person　who　can　save　me！　There　is　to　be　a　most　original　wedding　here　tomorrow；〃　she　went　on；　laughing；　and　tying　her　husband's　cravat。　〃A　young　telegraph　clerk　at　the　station；　called　Tchikeldyeev；　is　going　to　be　married。　He　is　a　handsome　young　man　and　　well；　not　stupid；　and　you　know　there　is　something　strong；　bearlike　in　his　face　。　。　。　you　might　paint　him　as　a　young　Norman。　We　summer　visitors　take　a　great　interest　in　him；　and　have　promised　to　be　at　his　wedding。　。　。　。　He　is　a　lonely；　timid　man；　not　well　off；　and　of　course　it　would　be　a　shame　not　to　be　sympathetic　to　him。　Fancy！　the　wedding　will　be　after　the　service；　then　we　shall　all　walk　from　the　church　to　the　bride's　lodgings。　。　。　you　see　the　wood；　the　birds　singing；　patches　of　sunlight　on　the　grass；　and　all　of　us　spots　of　different　colours　against　the　bright　green　background　　very　original；　in　the　style　of　the　French　impressionists。　But；　Dymov；　what　am　I　to　go　to　the　church　in？〃　said　Olga　Ivanovna；　and　she　looked　as　though　she　were　going　to　cry。　〃I　have　nothing　here；　literally　nothing！　　no　dress；　no　　flowers；　no　gloves　。　。　。　you　must　save　me。　Since　you　have　come；　fate　itself　bids　you　save　me。　Take　the　keys；　my　precious；　go　home　and　get　my　pink　dress　from　the　wardrobe。　You　remember　it；　it　hangs　in　front。　。　。　。　Then；　in　the　storeroom；　on　the　floor；　on　the　right　side；　you　will　see　two　cardboard　boxes。　When　you　open　the　top　one　you　will　see　tulle；　heaps　of　tulle　and　rags　of　all　sorts；　and　under　them　flowers。　Take　out　all　the　flowers　carefully；　try　not　to　crush　them；　darling；　I　will　choose　among　them　later。　。　。　。　And　buy　me　some　gloves。〃

〃Very　well；〃　said　Dymov；　〃I　will　go　tomorrow　and　send　them　to　you。〃

〃Tomorrow？〃　asked　Olga　Ivanovna；　and　she　looked　at　him　surprised。　〃You　won't　have　time　tomorrow。　The　first　train　goes　tomorrow　at　nine；　and　the　wedding's　at　eleven。　No；　darling；　it　must　be　today；　it　absolutely　must　be　today。　If　you　won't　be　able　to　come　tomorrow；　send　them　by　a　messenger。　Come；　you　must　run　along。　。　。　。　The　passenger　train　will　be　in　directly；　don't　miss　it；　darling。〃

〃Very　well。〃

〃Oh；　how　sorry　I　am　to　let　you　go！〃　said　Olga　Ivanovna；　and　tears　came　into　her　eyes。　〃And　why　did　I　promise　that　telegraph　clerk；　like　a　silly？〃

Dymov　hurriedly　drank　a　glass　of　tea；　took　a　cracknel；　and；　smiling　gently；　went　to　the　station。　And　the　caviare；　the　cheese；　and　the　white　salmon　were　eaten　by　the　two　dark　gentlemen　and　the　fat　actor。

IV

On　a　still　moonlight　night　in　July　O