“You must not, Viérotchka; he is a very fine man!”
“But I hate him! I shall forbid your seeing him!”
“That is a fine beginning! She is so afraid of my despotism that she wants to make a doll of her husband. And how can I help seeing him when we live together?”
“You are always sitting together like lovers!”
“Of course. At breakfast and at dinner. When one’s hands are always occupied, it is hard to use them like lovers’ hands.”
“And you are always inseparable!”
“Most likely. He is in his room and I in mine; that means almost inseparable.”
“And if that is so, why shouldn’t you stop seeing him altogether?”
“Well [da], we are friends; sometimes we want to talk, and we talk, and so far we haven’t been burdensome to each other.”
“You are always sitting together, hugging and disputing. I hate him.”
“What makes you think so, Viérotchka? We have never quarrelled. We live almost separately; we are friends, to be sure; but what of that?”
“Akh! my dearest, how I deceived you, how cleverly I deceived you. You did not want to tell me how we should live together, and yet you have told me everything! How I deceived you! Listen: this is the way we should live according to your idea. In the first place, we shall have two rooms, yours and mine, and then a third room where we shall drink tea, take dinner, receive guests who come to call on both of us! and not on you alone, and not on me alone. In the second place, I must not dare to enter your room lest I bother you. You see Kirsánof does not dare to interrupt you, and so you do not quarrel with him. And it will be the same with mine. That is the second. Now there is a third! Akh! my dearest, I forget to ask you about it. Does Kirsánof interfere with your affairs, or you with his? Have you a right to ask each other about anything?”
“Eh! now I see why you mention Kirsánof; I shall not tell you!”
“No! but I dislike him for all this; and you need not tell me, for it’s not necessary. I myself know. You have no right to ask each other about anything. And so, in the third place, I shall have no right to ask you about anything, my dear. If it is necessary for you to tell me about any of your affairs, you will tell me yourself, and vice versa. Here are three rules. What more more is there?”
“Viérotchka, your second rule demands explanations. We shall see each other at tea or dinner in our neutral room. Now imagine such an occasion as this: We have drunk our tea in the morning, I am sitting in my room, and do not dare to show my nose in yours; consequently, I cannot see you till dinner time; isn’t that so?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent! An acquaintance of mine comes and says, that at two o’clock another acquaintance will call on me, but it happens my business calls me away at one. May I ask you to tell that acquaintance who is coming at two the proper answer? may I ask you whether you intend to remain at home?”
“Of course you may. Whether I will undertake it is another question! If I refuse, you have no right to claim it of me; you have no right to even ask why I refuse. But to ask whether I will consent to do you that little service—you shall have that right.”
“Excellent! But at breakfast I did not know that he was coming, and I shall not dare to enter your room; how then can I ask the question?”
“O bozhe! how simple he is! a little child! Just listen to him! How he misunderstands me! This is the way you must do, Dmitri Sergéitch. You shall enter the neutral room and say, ‘Viéra Pavlovna!’ I shall answer from my room, ‘What do you want, Dmitri Sergéitch.’ You will reply, ‘I am going out. In my absence Mr. A. will call (of course you will give me your friend’s name); I have some news to tell him; may I ask you, Viéra Pavlovna, to tell him that?’ If I answer ‘no’ our conversation is at an end; but if I say ‘yes’ I shall come out into the neutral room, and you shall tell me what you want me to tell your friend. Now, my dear little child, you know, don’t you, how it will be necessary to act?”
“Yes, my dear Viérotchka, jesting aside, it is much better to live in the way that you propose. Only, who in the world put such ideas into your head? I know them, and I remember where I have read of such things; but such books never come into your hands. In the books which I let you have there were no such ideas. Did you hear them? from whom? I was almost the first person whom you ever met from among respectable people.”
“Akh! my dear, is it so very hard to think out such things? I have seen family life—I am not speaking about my family; my family is so peculiar—but I have friends, and I have been in their homes. Bozhe moï! what disagreeable scenes between husbands and wives; you cannot imagine them, my dear!”
“Nu! I have no trouble in imagining them, Viérotchka.”
“Do you know how it seems to me, my dear? People ought not to live the way they do: always together, always together! They ought not to see each other except on business, or when they come together to rest or have a good time. I am always looking and thinking, why is everybody so polite to strangers? Why do all people try to appear better than they are in their own families? And in fact, before strangers they are better.
