has not in his time cherished fruitless desires, and pictured himself as the hero of a glorious achievement, a song of triumph, a renowned event? Whose imagination has not been transported to the heroic times of story ? Who has not wept, feeling himself great and exalted ? Jf such a man is to be found, let him throw a stone at me. I do not envy him. I blush for my youthful ideals, but I honour:them ; they are the guarantee of purity of heart, the sign of a generous spirit inclined to good.
'And was your own youth innocent of these errors? Remember, ransack your memory. I can see even here how you shake your head with your calm never embarrassed expression, and say, no.
' Let me convict_you, for instance, as to love; you deny it. Do not deny it; the proof is in my hands. Recollect that I have been able to follow the matter on the scene of action. The background of your love affair is before my eyes—the lake. Yellow flowers still grow by it; one of them, suitably preserved, I have the honour of. forwarding your Excellency enclosed in this by way of a sweet souvenir. But I have a more terrible weapon to parry your attacks upon love in general ^nd mine in special—a document! . . . . You frown ! and such a document! Are you pale ? I filched this precious antiquity from my auntie, from her no less antique bosom, and I shall bring it with me as a perpetual testimony against you and a vengeance for me. Tremble, uncle ! Not only so. I know in detail the whole story of your love; my auntie relates it to me every day over our morning tea, and over supper, with every fact of interest.
'And I am putting all these priceless materials into a
special memoir. I shall not fail to hand it to you in person together with my essays on points of agricultural economy on which I have been busy here for the last year. I for my part consider it a duty to assure my auntie of the constancy of 'your sentiments,' as she says, to her. When I am honoured by receiving a favourable reply to my request from your Excellency, I shall take the liberty of coming to you with propitiatory offerings of dried raspberries and honey, and bearing several letters which my neighbours promise to furnish me with, dealing with their several needs, but not one from Zayeshaloflf, who died before the conclusion of his lawsuit.'
EPILOGUE
Foxu ^years after Alexandr's return toJPetersburg, this was the position of the^pnhcTpal personages 6rthis~story.
One morning Pic4rlyanit?h_was walking up and down in his study. It was'noTonger the robust, stout, upright Piotr Ivanitch of former days, who always wore a uniformly calm expression, and moved with his head haughtily erect and unfaltering gait. Whether from age or the force of circumstances, he seemed to have grown feebler. His movements were not so vigorous, his glance was not so firm and self-confident. There were many silver hairs to be seen in his whiskers and his moustache. It was obvious that he had celebrated the fiftiejthjmmversary of his life. He walked a little bent It was specially curious to observe on the face of this passionless and tranquil man—as we have known him hitherto—a more than anxious, a harassed expression, even though it was manifest in a way characteristic of Piotr Ivanitch.
He seemed as though he were in perplexity. He took two steps, and suddenly stood still in the middle of the room, or hurriedly paced twice or thrice from one end of it to the other. It seemed as though he were struck by some unusual idea.
In the chair by the table sat a stout man of medium height, with a decoration on his breast, his coat tightly buttoned up, and his legs crossed. He needed only the gold-headed cane, the classical stick by which the reader has been used to recognise at once the doctor in romances
A COMMON STORY
and novels. Very likely this staff was suitable to a doctor, when, having nothing to do, he could take his walks abroad with it, and sit for whole hours with patients, console them, and unite in his person the several characters of apothecary, practical philosopher, friend of the family, &c. All this is very well where men live in peace and comfort, and are seldom ill, and where a doctor isiaQre a luxury than a necessity, /^ut Piotrlvanitch's flo ctonwas a Petersburg physiciaa ' He^iJTRTl kuuw what walking meant, though he ''Used 'to prescribe exercise to his patients. He was a member of some committee, secretary of some other society, a professor, and physician to several public institutions, and invariably took part in every consultation ; he had too, an immense practice. He did not even take his glove off his left hand, he would not even have taken off the right hand one if he had not had to feel the pulse; he never unbuttoned his coat and scarcely sat down. The doctor in impatience had already more than once shifted his right leg over his left, and then again his left over his right. It was long ago time for him to be gone, but still Piotr Ivanitch said nothing. At last:
'What is to be done, doctor?' asked Piotr Ivanitch, suddenly coming to a standstill before him.
'Go to Kissingen,' replied the doctor: 'it's the one remedy. Your symptoms will recur more frequently.'
' Ah, you keep on talking of me!' interposed Piotr Ivanitch. ' I am asking you about my wife. I am over fifty, but she is in the very bloom ot her age ; she ought to live: and if she begins to waste away from me '
' You talk of wasting away already!' observed the doctor. ' I only informed you of the danger for the future ;
so far there is nothing I only meant to say that her
health, or not her health, that she is not exactly in a normal condition.'
' Isn't it all the same ? You made your observation superficially, and forgot it; but I have kept watch on her constantly since then, and every day I discern in her new disquieting changes. And for three months now I have known no peace of mind. How it was I didn't see it before I don't understand.^ My 'duties and my business rob me of time and health, and now, perhaps, of even my wife 1'
/
A COMMON STORY 267
Again be fell to pacing up and down the room.
'You questioned her to-day?' he asked, after a pause.
'Yes; but s he has noticed nothing wrong i n herself. I supposed at firsi there was a physiological explanation: s he has had no children , but it seems it's not so. Perhaps the cause 'is purely psychological.'
' So much the worse !' remarked Piotr Ivanitch. . ' But perhaps it's nothing at all. Suspicious symptoms there are absolutely none. It's only .... you have been living too long in this malarious climate. Go to the South : you will be freshened up, gain some new impressions, and see how things are then. Spend the summer at Kissingen, go through a course of the waters, and the autumn in Italy, and the winter in Paris. I assure you that the catarrh, the irritability, will be all over.'
Piotr Ivanitch scarcely listened to him.
' A psychological cause,' he said to himself, and shook his head.
' That's to say, do you see why I say a psychological cause?' said the doctor. 'Another man, not knowing you, might suspect some anxiety of some kind in it ... . or if not anxiety, some unsatisfied desire .... some time there is something wanting, some lack .... I wanted to lead you to the idea.'
' Something wanted—desires ?' interposed Piotr Ivanitch. ' All her desires are satisfied. I know her tastes, her habits. But some lack—how ! You see our house, you know how we live.'
' A splendid house, a capital house,' said the doctor; ' a marvellous cook, and what cigars ! But why has that friend of yours that lives in London .... left off sending you sherry ? Why is it that this year we do not see '
' Doctor, have I not been considerate with her ? ' began Piotr Ivanitch, with a heat not usual to him* ' I weighed, I thought, every step I took No; somewhere there was failure. And at what a time—with all my successes, in such a career ! Ah!'
With a gesture of the hand he resumed his pacing.
' Why are yo u_so upset?^' said the doctor. 'There is. distin ctly noth ing 'alarming. I repeat to you what I said on the first occasion f 'that Tier constitution is not touched;
there are no consumptive symptoms. Anae mia, some lo ss of gflggaFTO fs a l l. '' ~^ - ' ~
trine, truly !' said Piotr Ivanitch.
' Her ill-health is negative, not positive,' pursued the doctor. 'Do you suppose she is an exception? Look at all who are not natives living here. What do they look like ? Go away, go away from here. But if it's impossible to go, rouse her. Don't let her sit so much. Humour her; take her about; plenty of exercise for mind and body: both alike are in an unnatural lethargy. Of course, in time it may affect the lungs, or '
' Good-bye, doctor* I will go to her,' said Piotr Ivanitch, and with rapid steps he strode to his wife's room. He stood still in the doorway, gently moved the portibre^ and turned an anxious gaze upon his wife.
What did the doctor observe that was peculiar in her? Every one meeting her for the first time would have
