ZINOTCHKA
THE
party of sportsmen spent the night in a peasant's hut on some newly mown hay.
The moon peeped in at the window; from the street came the mournful wheezing of
a concertina; from the hay came a sickly sweet, faintly troubling scent. The
sportsmen talked about dogs, about women, about first love, and about snipe.
After all the ladies of their acquaintance had been picked to pieces, and
hundreds of stories had been told, the stoutest of the sportsmen, who looked in
the darkness like a haycock, and who talked in the mellow bass of a staff
officer, gave a loud yawn and said:
"It
is nothing much to be loved; the ladies are created for the purpose of loving
us men. But, tell me, has any one of you fellows been hated -passionately,
furiously hated? Has any one of you watched the ecstasies of hatred? Eh?"
"Has
no one, gentlemen?" asked the staff officer's bass voice. "But I,
now, have been hated, hated by a pretty girl, and have been able to study the
symptoms of first hatred directed against myself. It was the first, because it
was something exactly the converse of first love. What I am going to tell,
however, happened when I knew nothing about love or hate. I was eight at the
time, but that made no difference; in this case it was not he but she that
mattered. Well, I beg your attention. One fine summer evening, just before
sunset, I was sitting in the nursery, doing my lesson with my governess,
Zinotchka, a very charming and poetical creature who had left boarding school
not long before. Zinotchka looked absent-mindedly towards the window and said:
"
'Yes. We breathe in oxygen; now tell me, Petya, what do we breathe out?'
"
'Carbonic acid gas,' I answered, looking towards the same window.
"
'Right,' assented Zinotchka. 'Plants, on the contrary, breathe in carbonic acid
gas, and breathe out oxygen. Carbonic acid gas is contained in seltzer water,
and in the fumes from the samovar. . . . It is a very noxious gas. Near Naples
there is the so-called Cave of Dogs, which contains carbonic acid gas; a dog
dropped into it is suffocated and dies.'
"This
luckless Cave of Dogs near Naples is a chemical marvel beyond which no
governess ventures to go. Zinotchka always hotly maintained the usefulness of
natural science, but I doubt if she knew any chemistry beyond this Cave.
"Well,
she told me to repeat it. I repeated it. She asked me what was meant by the
horizon. I answered. And meantime, while we were ruminating over the horizon
and the Cave, in the yard below, my father was just getting ready to go
shooting. The dogs yapped, the trace horses shifted from one leg to another
impatiently and coquetted with the coachman, the footman packed the waggonette
with parcels and all sorts of things. Beside the waggonette stood a brake in
which my mother and sisters were sitting to drive to a name-day party at the
Ivanetskys'. No one was left in the house but Zinotchka, me, and my eldest
brother, a student, who had toothache. You can imagine my envy and my boredom.
"
'Well, what do we breathe in?' asked Zinotchka, looking at the window.
"
'Oxygen. . .'
"
'Yes. And the horizon is the name given to the place where it seems to us as
though the earth meets the sky.'
"Then
the waggonette drove off, and after it the brake. . . . I saw Zinotchka take a
note out of her pocket, crumple it up convulsively and press it to her temple,
then she flushed crimson and looked at her watch.
"
'So, remember,' she said, 'that near Naples is the so-called Cave of Dogs. . .
.' She glanced at her watch again and went on: 'where the sky seems to us to
meet the earth. . . .'
"The
poor girl in violent agitation walked about the room, and once more glanced at
her watch. There was another half-hour before the end of our lesson.
"
'Now arithmetic,' she said, breathing hard and turning over the pages of the
sum-book with a trembling hand. 'Come, you work out problem 325 and I . . .
will be back directly.'
"She
went out. I heard her scurry down the stairs, and then I saw her dart across
the yard in her blue dress and vanish through the garden gate. The rapidity of
her movements, the flush on her cheeks and her excitement, aroused my
curiosity. Where had she run, and what for? Being intelligent beyond my years I
soon put two and two together, and understood it all: she had run into the
garden, taking advantage of the absence of my stern parents, to steal in among
the raspberry bushes, or to pick herself some cherries. If that were so, dash
it all, I would go and have some cherries too. I threw aside the sum-book and
ran into the garden. I ran to the cherry orchard, but she was not there.
Passing by the raspberries, the gooseberries, and the watchman's shanty, she
crossed the kitchen garden and reached the pond, pale, and starting at every
sound. I stole after her, and what I saw, my friends, was this. At the edge of
the pond, between the thick stumps of two old willows, stood my elder brother,
Sasha; one could not see from his face that he had toothache. He looked towards
Zinotchka as she approached him, and his whole figure was lighted up by an
expression of happiness as though by sunshine. And Zinotchka, as though she
were being driven into the Cave of Dogs, and were being forced to breathe
carbonic acid gas, walked towards him, scarcely able to move one leg before the
other, breathing hard, with her head thrown back. . . . To judge from
appearances she was going to a rendezous for the first time in her life. But at
last she reached him. . . . For half a minute they gazed at each other in
silence, as though they could not believe their eyes. Thereupon some force
seemed to shove Zinotchka; she laid her hands on Sasha's shoulders and let her
head droop upon his waistcoat. Sasha laughed, muttered something incoherent,
and with the clumsiness of a man head over ears in love, laid both hands on
Zinotchka's face. And the weather, gentlemen, was exquisite. . . . The hill
behind which the sun was setting, the two willows, the green bank, the sky --
all together with Sasha and Zinotchka were reflected in the pond . . . perfect
stillness . . . you can imagine it. Millions of butterflies with long whiskers
gleamed golden above the reeds; beyond the garden they were driving the cattle.
In fact, it was a perfect picture.
"Of
all I had seen the only thing I understood was that Sasha was kissing
Zinotchka. That was improper. If maman heard of it they would both catch it.
Feeling for some reason ashamed I went back to the nursery, not waiting for the
end of the rendezvous. There I sat over the sum-book, pondered and reflected. A
triumphant smile strayed upon my countenance. On one side it was agreeable to
be the possessor of another person's secret; on the other it was also very
agreeable that such authorities as Sasha and Zinotchka might at any moment be
convicted by me of ignorance of the social proprieties. Now they were in my
power, and their peace was entirely dependent on my magnanimity. I'd let them
know.
"When
I went to bed, Zinotchka came into the nursery as usual to find out whether I
had dropped asleep without undressing and whether I had said my prayers. I
looked at her pretty, happy face and grinned. I was bursting with my secret and
itching to let it out. I had to drop a hint and enjoy the effect.
"
'I know,' I said, grinning. 'Gy--y.'
"
'What do you know?'
"
'Gy--y! I saw you near the willows kissing Sasha. I followed you and saw it
all.'
"Zinotchka
started, flushed all over, and overwhelmed by 'my hint' she sank down on the
chair, on which stood a glass of water and a candlestick.
"
'I saw you . . . kissing . . .' I repeated, sniggering and enjoying her
confusion. 'Aha! I'll tell mamma!'
"Cowardly
Zinotchka gazed at me intently, and convincing herself that I really did know
all about it, clutched my hand in despair and muttered in a trembling whisper:
"
'Petya, it is low. . . . I beg of you, for God's sake. . . . Be a man . . .
don't tell anyone. . . . Decent people don't spy. . . . It's low. . . . I
entreat you.'
"The
poor girl was terribly afraid of my mother, a stern and virtuous lady -- that
was one thing; and the second was that my grinning countenance could not but
outrage her first love so pure and poetical, and you can imagine the state of
her heart. Thanks to me, she did not sleep a wink all night, and in the morning
she appeared at breakfast with blue rings round her eyes. When I met Sasha
after breakfast I could not refrain from grinning and boasting:
"
'I know! I saw you yesterday kissing Mademoiselle Zina!'
"Sasha
looked at me and said:
"
'You are a fool.'
"He
was not so cowardly as Zinotchka, and so my effect did not come off. That
provoked me to further efforts. If Sasha was not frightened it was evident that
he did not believe that I had seen and knew all about it; wait a bit, I would
show him.
"At
our lessons before dinner Zinotchka did not look at me, and her voice faltered.
Instead of trying to scare me she tried to propitiate me in every way, giving
me full marks, and not complaining to my father of my naughtiness. Being
intelligent beyond my years I exploited her secret: I did not learn my lessons,
walked into the schoolroom on my head, and said all sorts of rude things. In
fact, if I had remained in that vein till to-day I should have become a famous
blackmailer. Well, a week passed. Another person's secret irritated and fretted
me like a splinter in my soul. I longed at all costs to blurt it out and gloat
over the effect. And one day at dinner, when we had a lot of visitors, I gave a
stupid snigger, looked fiendishly at Zinotchka and said:
"
'I know. Gy--y! I saw! . . .'
"
'What do you know?' asked my mother.
"I
looked still more fiendishly at Zinotchka and Sasha. You ought to have seen how
the girl flushed up, and how furious Sasha's eyes were! I bit my tongue and did
not go on. Zinotchka gradually turned pale, clenched her teeth, and ate no more
dinner. At our evening lessons that day I noticed a striking change in
Zinotchka's face. It looked sterner, colder, as it were, more like marble,
while her eyes gazed strangely straight into my face, and I give you my word of
honour I have never seen such terrible, annihilating eyes, even in hounds when
they overtake the wolf. I understood their expression perfectly, when in the
middle of a lesson she suddenly clenched her teeth and hissed through them:
"
'I hate you! Oh, you vile, loathsome creature, if you knew how I hate you, how
I detest your cropped head, your vulgar, prominent ears!'
"But
at once she took fright and said:
"
'I am not speaking to you, I am repeating a part out of a play. . . .'
"Then,
my friends, at night I saw her come to my bedside and gaze a long time into my
face. She hated me passionately, and could not exist away from me. The
contemplation of my hated pug of a face had become a necessity to her. I
remember a lovely summer evening . . . with the scent of hay, perfect
stillness, and so on. The moon was shining. I was walking up and down the
avenue, thinking of cherry jam. Suddenly Zinotchka, looking pale and lovely,
came up to me, she caught hold of my hand, and breathlessly began expressing
herself:
"
'Oh, how I hate you! I wish no one harm as I do you! Let me tell you that! I
want you to understand that!'
"You
understand, moonlight, her pale face, breathless with passion, the stillness .
. . little pig as I was I actually enjoyed it. I listened to her, looked at her
eyes. . . . At first I liked it, and enjoyed the novelty. Then I was suddenly
seized with terror, I gave a scream, and ran into the house at breakneck speed.
"I
made up my mind that the best thing to do was to complain to maman. And I did
complain, mentioning incidentally how Sasha had kissed Zinotchka. I was stupid,
and did not know what would follow, or I should have kept the secret to myself.
. . . After hearing my story maman flushed with indignation and said:
"
'It is not your business to speak about that, you are still very young. . . .
But, what an example for children.'
"My
maman was not only virtuous but diplomatic. To avoid a scandal she did not get
rid of Zinotchka at once, but set to work gradually, systematically, to pave
the way for her departure, as one does with well-bred but intolerable people. I
remember that when Zinotchka did leave us the last glance she cast at the house
was directed at the window at which I was sitting, and I assure you, I remember
that glance to this day.
"Zinotchka
soon afterwards became my brother's wife. She is the Zinaida Nikolaevna whom
you know. The next time I met her I was already an ensign. In spite of all her
efforts she could not recognize the hated Petya in the ensign with his
moustache, but still she did not treat me quite like a relation. . . . And even
now, in spite of my good-humoured baldness, meek corpulence, and unassuming
air, she still looks askance at me, and feels put out when I go to see my
brother. Hatred it seems can no more be forgotten than love. . . .
"Tchoo!
I hear the cock crowing! Good-night. Milord! Lie down!"
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