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Updated: June 7, 2025
Meanwhile it was getting on towards dinner-time. I went down into the valley; a narrow sandy path winding through it led to the town. I walked along this path.... The dull thud of horses' hoofs resounded behind me. I looked round instinctively, stood still and took off my cap. I saw my father and Zinaida. They were riding side by side.
"And she doesn't hear this villain!" sighed Kukushkin. "My dear sir," he said theatrically, "I will relieve you from the burdensome obligation to love that adorable creature! I will wrest Zinaida Fyodorovna from you!" "You may . . ." said Orlov carelessly. For half a minute Kukushkin laughed a shrill little laugh, shaking all over, then he said: "Look out; I am in earnest!
Doulebova said bitingly: "Well, I don't think he laughs very often. He ought to be to your taste." "To my taste!" exclaimed Poterina with a flushed face. "What are you saying, Zinaida Grigorievna! As the old saying goes: 'The Tsar's servant has been bent into a harness arch!"
'Shall I tell Zinaida all? I wondered.... 'It's all the same, anyway; all is at an end between us. I went to see her, but told her nothing, and, indeed, I could not even have managed to get a talk with her if I had wanted to. The old princess's son, a cadet of twelve years old, had come from Petersburg for his holidays; Zinaida at once handed her brother over to me.
I wanted to show her that she had not a mere boy to deal with, and assuming as easy and serious an air as I could, I observed, 'Certainly. I like you very much, Zinaida Alexandrovna; I have no wish to conceal it. She shook her head very deliberately. 'Have you a tutor? she asked suddenly. 'No; I've not had a tutor for a long, long while.
All the blood that is in your husband's body could never quench the furious, surging rapture that is in my soul! No puny obstacle could thwart the all-destroying, infernal flame which is eating into my exhausted breast! 0h Zinaida, my Zinaida! "'Vladimir! she whispered, almost beside herself, as she sank upon his bosom. "'My Zinaida! cried the enraptured Smileski once more.
Zinaida Fyodorovna could not refrain from putting her head out. "Has Georgy Ivanitch been staying here long?" she asked. "Going on for three weeks." "And he's not been away?" "No," answered the porter, looking at me with surprise. "Tell him, early to-morrow," I said, "that his sister has arrived from Warsaw. Good-bye." Then we drove on.
He has neither rich raiment nor precious stones, no one knows him, but he awaits me, and is certain I shall come and I shall come and there is no power that could stop me when I want to go out to him, and to stay with him, and be lost with him out there in the darkness of the garden, under the whispering of the trees, and the splash of the fountain ... Zinaida ceased.
I am so exhausted that I wouldn't stir a finger for my own salvation." "Go into a nunnery." He said this in jest, but after he had said it, tears glistened in Zinaida Fyodorovna's eyes and then in his. "Well," he said, "we've been sitting and sitting, and now we must go. Good-bye, dear Godmother. God give you health."
Zinaida Fyodorovna was favourably disposed to me, all the same. When she was sending me on some errand or explaining to me the working of a new lamp or anything of that sort, her face was extraordinarily kind, frank, and cordial, and her eyes looked me straight in the face. At such moments I always fancied she remembered with gratitude how I used to bring her letters to Znamensky Street.
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