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Updated: May 21, 2025
I sat beside her by virtue of my office as page. Among other things, she proposed that any one who had to pay a forfeit should tell his dream; but this was not successful. Meidanov regaled us with a regular romance; there were sepulchres in it, and angels with lyres, and talking flowers and music wafted from afar. Zinaida did not let him finish.
'I would describe, she went on, folding her arms across her bosom and looking away, 'a whole company of young girls at night in a great boat, on a silent river. The moon is shining, and they are all in white, and wearing garlands of white flowers, and singing, you know, something in the nature of a hymn. 'I see I see; go on, Meidanov commented with dreamy significance.
For the next five or six days I hardly saw Zinaida; she said she was ill, which did not, however, prevent the usual visitors from calling at the lodge to pay as they expressed it, their duty all, that is, except Meidanov, who promptly grew dejected and sulky when he had not an opportunity of being enthusiastic.
Don't forget the tiger-skins, too, and goblets and gold lots of gold.... 'Where ought the gold to be? asked Meidanov, tossing back his sleek hair and distending his nostrils. 'Where? on their shoulders and arms and legs everywhere. They say in ancient times women wore gold rings on their ankles. The Bacchantes call the girls in the boat to them.
All of us, like Polonius in Hamlet, opined that the clouds recalled nothing so much as those sails, and that not one of us could discover a better comparison. 'And how old was Antony then? inquired Zinaida. 'A young man, no doubt, observed Malevsky. 'Yes, a young man, Meidanov chimed in in confirmation. 'Excuse me, cried Lushin, 'he was over forty.
And this, she went on, addressing me, and indicating her guests in turn, 'Count Malevsky, Doctor Lushin, Meidanov the poet, the retired captain Nirmatsky, and Byelovzorov the hussar, whom you've seen already.
The game of forfeits went on for a short time after this little scene; every one felt rather ill at ease, not so much on account of this scene, as from another, not quite definite, but oppressive feeling. No one spoke of it, but every one was conscious of it in himself and in his neighbour. Meidanov read us his verses; and Malevsky praised them with exaggerated warmth.
I had just left the university, and did not know exactly what to do with myself, at what door to knock; I was hanging about for a time with nothing to do. One fine evening I met Meidanov at the theatre. He had got married, and had entered the civil service; but I found no change in him. He fell into ecstasies in just the same superfluous way, and just as suddenly grew depressed again.
His feelings are hurt too now ... I can't help it! you'll understand it all some day ... only don't be angry with me! Zinaida hurriedly pressed my hand and ran on ahead. We went back into the lodge. Meidanov set to reading us his 'Manslayer, which had just appeared in print, but I did not hear him.
'What an intolerable person! he keeps interrupting ... who doesn't like flattery? 'One more last question, observed Malevsky, 'has the queen a husband? 'I hadn't thought about that. No, why should she have a husband? 'To be sure, assented Malevsky, 'why should she have a husband? 'Silence! cried Meidanov in French, which he spoke very badly. 'Merci! Zinaida said to him.
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