who has already squandered the strength of his youth. He either casts on her the glances of a passion which is an outrage, or coldly scans her from head to foot and thinks to himself apparently, ' You're pretty, yes, on my word with your head full of nonsense; love and roses—I will soon put an end to such folly, it's all silliness! with me you must give up sighing and dreaming and conduct yourself more properly;' or worse still, he is reflecting on her fortune. At the very youngest he is thirty years old. He often has a bald head, though I daresay he has a decoration or star on his breast. And ' this is the man' they tell her to whom are consecrated all the treasures of your youth, for him the first throbbing of your heart, the first avowal, his are your looks and words and maiden caresses, his is your whole life. And all round are standing in the crowd those who are her equals in youth and beauty, who ought to have been in the bridegroom's place. They gaze eagerly at the poor victim and seem to be saying: ' Ah, when we have exhausted our freshness and health, when we are bald, we too will get married and then we too shall carry of! such a splendid rose:} It's awful!'
[igh-flown, not good, Alexandr! ' said Piotr Ivanitch ; ' have you been writing now for two years on manures, and
potato-starch, and other serious subjects and you still talk in this high-flown way. For goodness' sake, don't give way to ecstasy.'
'But, uncle, is not the poet's thought conceived in ecstasy ? '
'I don't know how it's conceived, but I know that it comes forth finished from the brain, that is when it has been worked up by meditation: it is only then that it is good. Well, but in your opinion,' began Piotr Ivanitch after a pause: 'to whom would you give these lovely creatures ? '
' To those whom they love, who have not yet lost the bloom of youth and beauty, whom one can see to be still full of life, in whose eyes the fire has not yet died away, who would have brought her the gift of a heart full of love for her, able to understand and to share her emotions when nature claims.' ....
' I dare say! you mean to such fine fellows as you. If we were living ' in meads and forests thick'—and such a fellow as you had a wife—much he would get by it! for the first year he would be out of his senses, and then he would either take to hanging about behind the scenes of the theatre, or would give his wife a rival in her lady's maid, because nature's claims of which you talk, demand change, novelty—a pretty state of things ! And then his wife too, noticing her husband's pranks, would suddenly take a fancy to spurs, parades and masquerades, and would pay him out in his own coin .... and without money, it is worse still; he comes begging, ' I have nothing to eat'!'
Piotr Ivanitch made a pitiful face.
' * I am a married man,' he says,' continued he. '' I have already three children, help me, I cannot keep them, I am a poor man ' .... a poor man ! what degradation! no, I hope you will not fall into either of these categories.'
'I shall fall into the category of happy husbands, uncle, and Nadinka of happy wives. I don't want to be married, as the majority of people marry; they all have the same tale : ' My youth is over, I am tired of solitude, so I must marry !' I am not like that! '
' You are talking nonsense, my dear boy.'
' How do you know ? '
'Because you are just like other people, and I have
known other people a long while. Come, tell me, why will you get married ? '
' Why ? Nadinka—my wife !' ejaculated Alexandr, covering His face with his hands.
' Well, you see—you don't know yourself.'
' Oh the spirit swoons at the very thought. You don't know how I love her, uncle! I love her as no one ever loved before; with all the strength of my soul—all is hers.'
' Really, Alexandr, I would rather have you ranting at me or even if it must be embracing me than repeating that very ridiculous phrase ! How it rolls off your tongue ! ' as no one ever loved before !''
Piotr Ivanitch shrugged his shoulders.
' Why, do you mean that this cannot be ? '
' Indeed,- when I reflect on your love, I really think it is possible ; impossible for any love to be more foolish !' i ' But she says that we must wait a vea^ t hat we are yo ung, J /and oughijo test ourselves—for a whole yeaf— ^ndthen^—' year! a h! you should have told me that before !' interposed Piotr Ivanitch; 'did she make that condition? What a sensible girl she is. How old is she ? n
u Eighteen.'
'And you are twenty-three; well, my friend, she has twenty-three times as much sense as you. I see she understands the whole business: s he will amuse her self wit h you , flirt a little and have a good time ? and then— these little Tiuumes have 'an intuition in such things! ffiell, s o''yog J w qjPt b e married then. I thought you wanteaTo Ilx n up* directly* and^gecfeHyT At your age such follies are so quickly done that one hasn't time to interfere; but in a year's a different thing; by that time she w ill jilt yo u.'
She—jilt, flirt; little HTI53J7'tnc[eecn'she, JNadinka! for shame, uncle! Whom have you lived with all your life, whom have you had to do with, whom have you loved, that you have such black suspicions ? '
' I have lived with men, I have loved a woman.'
' She deceive me! That angel, that very embodiment of sincerity, a woman, whom it seems as if God had for the
first time created in all the purity and brightness '
^ ' Still she is a woman, and is certain to deceive you.'
1 ' Will you tell me next that / shall j ilt her ? '
' In time—yes, you will too.'
' I! of people you don't know you can conclude what you like; but me —isn't it a sin in you to suspect me of such vileness ? What do you imagine me to be ? '
' A man.'
' All are not alike. You must know that I, not in jest, but in all sincerity have given her a promise to love her all my life; I am ready to confirm it upon oath.'
' I kaow, I know! No decent man doubts the sincerity of the vows he makes to a woman, but afterwards he changes and grows cooler, and does not himself know how. It does not happen intentionally, and there is no vileness in it, no one is to blame; nature does not allow of eternal love. And those who believe in eternal and unchanging love do just the same as those who don't believe in it, only they don't notice it and are unwilling to recognise it; we are above that, they say, we are not men, but angels—all folly!'
' But how is it there are lovers, married people, who love one another for ever and live all their lives together ? '
' For ever ! if a man's love last a fortnight, he is called fickle, but if for two or three years—at once you say it is for ever! Only consider what love is made up of and then you will see for yourself that it is not for ever! The ardour, the fire and fever-heat of that emotion prevent its being continuous. Lovers, married people, live together all their lives —no doubt! but do they love each other all their lives ? are they always in the bondage of their first love? are they seeking one another every minute, constantly gazing at each other, and can they never see enough of one another ? In the end what becomes of the little observances, the constant attention, the thirst to be together, the tears, the transport, all the passionate glances ? The coldness and awkwardness of husbands has passed into a proverb. 'Their love has turned into friendship!' every one says very seriously ; well then ! it's no longer love! Friendship ! And what is this friendship? A husband and wife are bound together by general interests, circumstances, then common fortunes, and so they live together; if it is not so, then they separate, make new ties—some more quickly than others; then we talk of fickleness ! But if they go on living together they come to live by habit, which let me whisper in your ear is
stronger than any kind of love; it is well called second nature ; except for it men would continue all their lives to suffer from separation from or the death of the beloved object, but you see they are consoled in time. Still the everlasting repetition—For ever, for ever!—they shout it without thinking.'
' How is it, un cle^ th at jgfijxe not afraid on your ovn account? If follows that your wife too—forgive me—will deCtilVti J6i ? ^ -
*I don't think so/'
' What vanity 1 * ~ ' It isn't vanity, but prudence.'
' Prudence again !'
