the wife and other stories- 第15部分

Ryabovsky　came　home　as　the　sun　was　setting。　He　flung　his　cap　on　the　table；　and；　without　removing　his　muddy　boots；　sank　pale　and　exhausted　on　the　bench　and　closed　his　eyes。

〃I　am　tired　。　。　。〃　he　said；　and　twitched　his　eyebrows；　trying　to　raise　his　eyelids。

To　be　nice　to　him　and　to　show　she　was　not　cross；　Olga　Ivanovna　went　up　to　him；　gave　him　a　silent　kiss；　and　passed　the　comb　through　his　fair　hair。　She　meant　to　comb　it　for　him。

〃What's　that？〃　he　said；　starting　as　though　something　cold　had　touched　him；　and　he　opened　his　eyes。　〃What　is　it？　Please　let　me　alone。〃

He　thrust　her　off；　and　moved　away。　And　it　seemed　to　her　that　there　was　a　look　of　aversion　and　annoyance　on　his　face。

At　that　time　the　peasant　woman　cautiously　carried　him；　in　both　hands；　a　plate　of　cabbage…soup。　And　Olga　Ivanovna　saw　how　she　wetted　her　fat　fingers　in　it。　And　the　dirty　peasant　woman；　standing　with　her　body　thrust　forward；　and　the　cabbage…soup　which　Ryabovsky　began　eating　greedily；　and　the　hut；　and　their　whole　way　of　life；　which　she　at　first　had　so　loved　for　its　simplicity　and　artistic　disorder；　seemed　horrible　to　her　now。　She　suddenly　felt　insulted；　and　said　coldly：

〃We　must　part　for　a　time；　or　else　from　boredom　we　shall　quarrel　in　earnest。　I　am　sick　of　this；　I　am　going　today。〃

〃Going　how？　Astride　on　a　broomstick？〃

〃Today　is　Thursday；　so　the　steamer　will　be　here　at　half…past　nine。〃

〃Eh？　Yes；　yes。　。　。　。　Well；　go；　then　。　。　。〃　Ryabovsky　said　softly；　wiping　his　mouth　with　a　towel　instead　of　a　dinner　napkin。　〃You　are　dull　and　have　nothing　to　do　here；　and　one　would　have　to　be　a　great　egoist　to　try　and　keep　you。　Go　home；　and　we　shall　meet　again　after　the　twentieth。〃

Olga　Ivanovna　packed　in　good　spirits。　Her　cheeks　positively　glowed　with　pleasure。　Could　it　really　be　true；　she　asked　herself；　that　she　would　soon　be　writing　in　her　drawing…room　and　sleeping　in　her　bedroom；　and　dining　with　a　cloth　on　the　table？　A　weight　was　lifted　from　her　heart；　and　she　no　longer　felt　angry　with　the　artist。

〃My　paints　and　brushes　I　will　leave　with　you；　Ryabovsky；〃　she　said。　〃You　can　bring　what's　left。　。　。　。　Mind；　now；　don't　be　lazy　here　when　I　am　gone；　don't　mope；　but　work。　You　are　such　a　splendid　fellow；　Ryabovsky！〃

At　ten　o'clock　Ryabovsky　gave　her　a　farewell　kiss；　in　order；　as　she　thought；　to　avoid　kissing　her　on　the　steamer　before　the　artists；　and　went　with　her　to　the　landing…stage。　The　steamer　soon　came　up　and　carried　her　away。

She　arrived　home　two　and　a　half　days　later。　Breathless　with　excitement；　she　went；　without　taking　off　her　hat　or　waterproof；　into　the　drawing…room　and　thence　into　the　dining…room。　Dymov；　with　his　waistcoat　unbuttoned　and　no　coat；　was　sitting　at　the　table　sharpening　a　knife　on　a　fork；　before　him　lay　a　grouse　on　a　plate。　As　Olga　Ivanovna　went　into　the　flat　she　was　convinced　that　it　was　essential　to　hide　everything　from　her　husband；　and　that　she　would　have　the　strength　and　skill　to　do　so；　but　now；　when　she　saw　his　broad；　mild；　happy　smile；　and　shining；　joyful　eyes；　she　felt　that　to　deceive　this　man　was　as　vile；　as　revolting；　and　as　impossible　and　out　of　her　power　as　to　bear　false　witness；　to　steal；　or　to　kill；　and　in　a　flash　she　resolved　to　tell　him　all　that　had　happened。　Letting　him　kiss　and　embrace　her；　she　sank　down　on　her　knees　before　him　and　hid　her　face。

〃What　is　it；　what　is　it；　little　mother？〃　he　asked　tenderly。　〃Were　you　homesick？〃

She　raised　her　face；　red　with　shame；　and　gazed　at　him　with　a　guilty　and　imploring　look；　but　fear　and　shame　prevented　her　from　telling　him　the　truth。

〃Nothing；〃　she　said；　〃it's　just　nothing。　。　。　。〃

〃Let　us　sit　down；〃　he　said；　raising　her　and　seating　her　at　the　table。　〃That's　right；　eat　the　grouse。　You　are　starving；　poor　darling。〃

She　eagerly　breathed　in　the　atmosphere　of　home　and　ate　the　grouse；　while　he　watched　her　with　tenderness　and　laughed　with　delight。


VI


Apparently；　by　the　middle　of　the　winter　Dymov　began　to　suspect　that　he　was　being　deceived。　As　though　his　conscience　was　not　clear；　he　could　not　look　his　wife　straight　in　the　face；　did　not　smile　with　delight　when　he　met　her；　and　to　avoid　being　left　alone　with　her；　he　often　brought　in　to　dinner　his　colleague；　Korostelev；　a　little　close…cropped　man　with　a　wrinkled　face；　who　kept　buttoning　and　unbuttoning　his　reefer　jacket　with　embarrassment　when　he　talked　with　Olga　Ivanovna；　and　then　with　his　right　hand　nipped　his　left　moustache。　At　dinner　the　two　doctors　talked　about　the　fact　that　a　displacement　of　the　diaphragm　was　sometimes　accompanied　by　irregularities　of　the　heart；　or　that　a　great　number　of　neurotic　complaints　were　met　with　of　late；　or　that　Dymov　had　the　day　before　found　a　cancer　of　the　lower　abdomen　while　dissecting　a　corpse　with　the　diagnosis　of　pernicious　anaemia。　And　it　seemed　as　though　they　were　talking　of　medicine　to　give　Olga　Ivanovna　a　chance　of　being　silent　　that　is；　of　not　lying。　After　dinner　Korostelev　sat　　down　to　the　piano；　while　Dymov　sighed　and　said　to　him：

〃Ech；　brother　　well；　well！　Play　something　melancholy。〃

Hunching　up　his　shoulders　and　stretching　his　fingers　wide　apart；　Korostelev　played　some　chords　and　began　singing　in　a　tenor　voice；　〃Show　me　the　abode　where　the　Russian　peasant　would　not　groan；〃　while　Dymov　sighed　once　more；　propped　his　head　on　his　fist；　and　sank　into　thought。

Olga　Ivanovna　had　been　extremely　imprudent　in　her　conduct　of　late。　Every　morning　she　woke　up　in　a　very　bad　humour　and　with　the　thought　that　she　no　longer　cared　for　Ryabovsky；　and　that；　thank　God；　it　was　all　over　now。　But　as　she　drank　her　coffee　she　reflected　that　Ryabovsky　had　robbed　her　of　her　husband；　and　that　now　she　was　left　with　neither　her　husband　nor　Ryabovsky；　then　she　remembered　talks　she　had　heard　among　her　acquaintances　of　a　picture　Ryabovsky　was　preparing　for　the　exhibition；　something　striking；　a　mixture　of　genre　and　landscape；　in　the　style　of　Polyenov；　about　which　every　one　who　had　been　into　his　studio　went　into　raptures；　and　this；　of　course；　she　mused；　he　had　created　under　her　influence；　and　altogether；　thanks　to　her　influence；　he　had　greatly　changed　for　the　better。　Her　influence　was　so　beneficent　and　essential　that　if　she　were　to　leave　him　he　might　perhaps　go　to　ruin。　And　she　remembered；　too；　that　the　last　time　he　had　come　to　see　her　in　a　great…coat　with　flecks　on　it　and　a　new　tie；　he　had　asked　her　languidly：

〃Am　I　beautiful？〃

And　with　his　elegance；　his　long　curls；　and　his　blue　eyes；　he　really　was　very　beautiful　（or　perhaps　it　only　seemed　so）；　and　he　had　been　affectionate　to　her。

Considering　and　remembering　many　things　Olga　Ivanovna　dressed　and　in　great　agitation　drove　to　Ryabovsky's　studio。　She　found　him　in　high　spirits；　and　enchanted　with　his　really　magnificent　picture。　He　was　dancing　about　and　playing　the　fool　and　answering　serious　questions　with　jokes。　Olga　Ivanovna　was　jealous　of　the　picture　and　hated　it；　but　from　politeness　she　stood　before　the　picture　for　five　minutes　in　silence；　and；　heaving　a　sigh；　as　though　before　a　holy　shrine；　said　softly：

〃Yes；　you　have　never　painted　anything　like　it　before。　Do　you　know；　it　is　positively　awe…inspiring？〃

And　then　she　began　beseeching　him　to　love　her　and　not　to　cast　her　off；　to　have　pity　on　her　in　her　misery　and　her　wretchedness。　She　shed　tears；　kissed　his　hands；　insisted　on　his　swearing　that　he　loved　her；　told　him　that　without　her　good　influence　he　would　go　astray　and　be　ruined。　And；　when　she　had　spoilt　his　good…humour；　feeling　herself　humiliated；　she　would　drive　off　to　her　dressmaker　or　to　an　actress　of　her　acquaintance　to　try　and　get　theatre　tickets。

If　she　did　not　find　him　at　his　studio　she　left　a　letter　in　which　she　swore　that　if　he　did　not　come　to　see　her　that　day　she　would　poison　herself。　He　was　scared；　came　to　see　her；　and　stayed　to　dinner。　Regardless　of　her　husband's　presence；　he　would　say　rude　things　to　her；　and　she　would　answer　him　in　the　same　way。　Both　felt　they　were　a　burden　to　each　other；　that　they　were　tyrants　and　enemies；　and　were　wrathful；　and　in　their　wrath　did　not　notice　that　their　behaviour　was　unseemly；　and　that　even　Korostelev；　with　his　close…cropped　head；　saw　it　all。　After　dinner　Ryabovsky　made　haste　to　say　good…bye　and　get　away。

〃Where　are　you　off　to？〃　Olga　Ivanovna　would　ask　him　in　the　hall；　looking　at　him　with　hatred。

Scowling　and　screwing　up　his　eyes；　he　mentioned　some　lady　of　their　acquaintance；　and　it　was　evident　that　he　was　laughing　at　her　jealousy　and　wanted　to　annoy　her。　She　went　to　her　bedroom　and　lay　down　on　her　bed；　from　jealousy；　anger；　a　sense　of　humiliation　and　shame；　she　bit　the　pillow　and　began　sobbing　aloud。　Dymov　left　Korostelev　in　the　drawing…room；　went　into　the　bedroom；　and　with　a　desperate　and　embarrassed　face　said　softly：

〃Don't　cry　so　loud；　little　mother；　there's　no　need。　You　must　be　quiet　about　it。　You　must　not　let　people　see。　。　。　。　You　know　what　is　done　is　done；　and　can't　be　mended。〃

Not　knowing　how　to　ease　the　burden　of　her　jealousy；　which　actually　set　her　temples　throbbing　with　pain；　and　thinking　still　that　things　might　be　set　right；　she　would　wash；　powder　her　tear…stained　face；　and　fly　off　to　the　lady　mentioned。

Not　finding　Ryabovsky　with　her；　she　would　drive　off　to　a　second；　then　to　a　third。　At　first　she　was　ashamed　to　go　about　like　this；　but　afterwards　she　got　used　to　it；　and　it　would　happen　that　in　one　evening　she　would　make　the　round　of　all　her　female　acquaintances　in　search　of　Ryabovsky；　and　they　all　understood　it。

One　day　she　said　to　Ryabovsky　of　her　husband：

〃That　man　crushes　me　with　his　magnanimity。〃

This　phrase　pleased　her　so　much　that　when　she　met　the　artists　who　knew　of　her　affair　with　Ryabovsky　she　said　every　time　of　her　husband；　with　a　vigorous　movement　of　her　arm：

〃That　man　crushes　me　with　his　magnanimity。〃

Their　manner　of　life　was　the　same　as　it　had　been　the　year　before。　On　Wednesdays　they　were　〃At　Home〃；　an　actor　recited；　the　artists　sketched。　The　violoncellist　played；　a　singer　sang；　and　invariably　at　half…past　eleven　the　door　leading　to　the　dining…room　opened　and　Dymov；　smiling；　said：

〃Come　to　supper；　gentlemen。〃

As　before；　Olga　Ivanovna　hunted　celebrities；　found　them；　was　not　satisfied；　and　went　in　pursuit　of　fresh　ones。　As　before；　she　came　back　late　every　night；　but　now　Dymov　was　not；　as　last　year；　asleep；　but　sitting　in　his　study　at　w