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Updated: May 14, 2025
Fustov's character was remarkable for exceptional serenity, and a sort of amiable, restrained affability; he was never pre-occupied, and was always satisfied with everything; but on the other hand he was never ecstatic over anything. Every excess, even in a good feeling, jarred upon him; 'that's savage, savage, he would say with a faint shrug, half closing his golden eyes.
All the following day was spent in anxious expectation of Fustov's coming, of a letter from him, of news from the Ratsches' house... though on what ground could they have sent to me? Susanna would be more likely to expect me to visit her.... But I positively could not pluck up courage to see her without first talking to Fustov.
'She plays the piano well, 'he said between his teeth. 'Only she's very shy, I warn you! he added with a slight grimace. He seemed to be regretting having made me acquainted with her. I said nothing and we parted. Next morning I set off again to Fustov's. To spend my mornings at his rooms had become a necessity for me.
I took at any rate Fustov's exact address, and sauntered home, meditating deeply. This unexpected absence from Moscow, in the winter, completed my utter perplexity. My good aunt observed to me at dinner that I seemed continually expecting something, and gazed at the cabbage pie as though I were beholding it for the first time in my life.
Fustov seemed to doubt whether Susanna were really dead. 'In the coffin. Fustov's face twitched and he dropped his eyes and softly rubbed his hands. 'Are you cold? I asked him. 'Yes, old man, I'm cold, he answered hesitatingly, and he shook his head stupidly.
And she says, "Mother, where have you put the salt... the salt... sa-alt?" The word 'salt' overpowered her. But again, as in the morning, I was but little moved by Fustov's tears. I could not conceive how it was he did not ask me if Susanna had not left something for him. Altogether their love for one another was a riddle to me; and a riddle it remained to me.
Marvellous were those eyes of Fustov's! They invariably expressed sympathy, good-will, even devotion. It was only at a later period that I noticed that the expression of his eyes resulted solely from their setting, that it never changed, even when he was sipping his soup or smoking a cigar. His preciseness became a byword between us. His grandmother, indeed, had been a German.
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