existence ! I want some repose, some peace; and where am I to rest if not alone with you ? . . . . Let us go to Itali
' Piotr Ivanitch!' she said, allHU&l 111 lUSrs, ' you are good and noble .... I know you are capable of a generous deception .... but perhaps the sacrifice is useless, perhaps already .... it is too late, and you are throwing up your pursuits '
' Have pity on me, Liza, and don't let me believe that,' replied Piotr Ivanitch, ' or, you will see lam not made of flint. I repeat to you, that I don't want to live with the head alone; I am not altogether frozen yet.'
She looked at him earnestly, doubtingly.
' And is that .... true ? ' she asked, after a pause, ' you really want peace; you are not going away only on * my account ? '
' No ; on my own account as well.'
' But if it's for my sake, I wouldn't for anything, no, not for anything.'
' No, no! I am unwell, worn out I want to
rest.'
She gave him her hand, he kissed it with warmth.
' So we are going tn Ttalv ? ' he said.
' Very well; let us go,' she answered in an expressionless voice.
Piotr Ivanitch felt a load taken off his heart. 'Some good will come of it,' he thought.
They sat still a long while, not knowing what to say to one another. There is no saying which would have broken the silence first if they had remained alone together longer. But rapid footsteps were heard from the adjoining apartment. Alexandr made his appearance.
How he had altered! How he had filled out, how bald he had become, how stout and rosy he had grown ! With what dignity he carried his corpulence, and the decoration on his breast! His eyes were bright with enjoyment. He kissed his aunt's hand with special feelings, and pressed his uncle's hand.
' Where have you come from ? ' asked Piotr Ivanitch.
' Guess,' replied Alexandr significantly.
' You seem in unusually good spirits to-day,' said Piotr Ivanitch, looking at him inquiringly.
' I bet you a wager you won't guess !' said Alexandr.
'Ten or twelve years ago, I remember you once rushed in on me in the same way,' observed Piotr Ivanitch, ' and you broke something of mine too—then I guessed at once that you were in love, but now .... can it be so again ? No, it can't be; you have too much sense to '
He looked at his wife and suddenly stopped short.
' Don't you begin to guess ? ' asked Alexandr.
His uncle looked at him and still deliberated.
' Not this time—are you going, to be married ? ' he said hesitatingly.
' You have guessed! ' cried Alexandr in triumph— ' Congratulate me!'
' But really ? To whom ?' asked his uncle and aunt together.
' To thedaughterjof Alexa ndr Stepan itch.'
' Really j*^well,~~sr7e~is~ a wealthy match,' said Piotr Ivanitch. t{ And the father—well ? '
' I have just come from him. Why should her father not consent ? Quite the contrary; he listened to my proposal with tears in his eyes, embraced me and said that now he could die happy; that he knows to whom he is entrusting his daughter's happiness .... ' Only walk in,'he said, ' your uncle's footsteps !''
' Did he say that ? You see even here your uncle has been of use to you!'
L ».
V
x <~ ^ COMMON STORY 277
1*^ v ' But what did the daughter say ? ' said Lizaveta Alexan-
^^ drovna.
I 'Oh! she did, you know, as all girls do,' replied
f < ^ Alexandr, 'she said nothing, only blushed; and when I
- % > t took her hand, her fingers quite played a tune upon my
- hand, they trembled so.' <. *~* ' She said nothing,' remarked Lizaveta Alexandrovna. '*¦ ' Is it possible that you did not take the trouble to ascertain her feelings before you made your offer? Was it a matter of indifference to you ? Why are you going to be n. *•'' married then ? ' v r v, 'Why! One can't be a butterfly for ever! I am sick : ' ^ of solitude; the time has come, ma tante, to settle, to ^ ^; found a family and set up a house of one's own, to fulfil
i one's duties My fianck is pretty and rich. But
^ % ' > my uncle here will tell the reasons for getting married; he ^ . ' used to tell me them so precisely.'
Piotr Ivanitch, unobserved by his wife, made a sign to him
. ; with his hand not to quote him and to hold his tongue, but
Alexandr did not observe it.
-^ . - ' But possibly she may not care for you,' said Lizaveta
^ ^^'Alexandrovna 'it may be that she loves some one else
¦^ ^ . . what do you say to that ? '
Uncle, what would you say? You are better at
speaking than I But I will quote your own words,'
Q j Alexandr, not noticing that his uncle was twisting uneasily in his seat and coughing significantly to put a stop to his V5^ y speech; 'if you marry for love, love will pass and you will come to live by habit; if you marry not for love, you will come too to the same result; you will get used to your wife. Love is love, and marriage is marriage; these two do not always go together, and it is better when they
do not go together Isn't that right, uncle ? you used
to instruct me in that way, you know.' '~ ife glanced at Piotr Ivanitch and stopped suddenly, seeing that his uncle was looking at him with a face of fury. He looked open-mouthed in bewilderment at his aunt, then again at his uncle, and said no more. Lizaveta Alexandrovna shook her head mournfully.
'Well, so you are going to be married?' said Piotr Ivanitch: (t it's a suitable time now, to be sure ! But you were wanting to be married at three-and-twenty.' ' Youth, uncle, youth !'
>.»
' Yes, it was youth.'
Alexandr grew grave and then smiled.
' What is it ? ' inquired Piotr Ivanitch.
•'Oh, I was struck by an incongruity.'
' What incongruity ? '
'When I was in love,' replied Alexandr meditatively, ' I was not able to marry.'
' And now you are getting married, and you are not able to love,' added his uncle, and both laughed.
'It follows from that, uncle, that you were»right in your theory that suitability is the principal '
Piotr Ivanitch again turned a face of intense fury upon him. Alexandr was silent, not knowing what to think.
' You are going to be married at fiveand-thirty ,' said Piotr Ivanitch, ' that is quite proper. '^But you remember what a delirium you fell into then, how you vociferated, unequal marriages revolted you, that the bride was dragged, like a victim decked in flowers and diamonds, and thrust into the embraces of an elderly creature, generally unattractive and bald. How about your own head ? '
'Youth, youth, uncle ! I did not understand the realities of things,' said Alexandr, smoothing his hair with his hand.
' The realities of things,' continued Piotr Ivanitch; ' but do you remember how desperate you were over that— what was her name ?—Natasha—was it ? Furious jealousy, transports, heavenly bliss. What has become of all that?'
' Now, now, uncle, stop !' said Alexandr, getting red.
