"It's awful!" he used to say, losing his breath (for although only twenty-six he was stout1, heavy, and short of breath). "It's awful. Without knowing languages I'm like a bird without wings. I'll simply have to chuck the work."
So he decided2, come what might, to conquer his natural laziness and to study French and German, and he began to look out for a teacher.
One winter afternoon, as Vorotov sat working in his study, the servant announced a lady to see him.
"Show her in," said Vorotov.
And a young lady, exquisitely3 dressed in the latest fashion, entered the study. She introduced herself as Alice Ossipovna Enquette, a teacher of French, and said that a friend of Vorotov's had sent her to him.
"Very glad! Sit down!" said Vorotov, losing his breath, and clutching at the collar of his night shirt. (He always worked in a night shirt in order to breathe more easily.) "You were sent to me by Peter Sergueyevich? Yes.... Yes ... I asked him.... Very glad!"
While he discussed the matter with Mademoiselle Enquette he glanced at her shyly, with curiosity. She was a genuine Frenchwoman, very elegant, and still quite young. From her pale and languid face, from her short, curly hair and unnaturally4 small waist, you would not think her more than eighteen, but looking at her broad, well-developed shoulders, her charming back and severe eyes, Vorotov decided that she was certainly not less than twenty-three, perhaps even twenty-five; but then again it seemed to him that she was only eighteen. Her face had the cold, business-like expression of one who had come to discuss a business matter. Never once did she smile or frown, and only once a look of perplexity flashed into her eyes, when she discovered that she was not asked to teach children but a grown up, stout young man.
"So, Alice Ossipovna," Vorotov said to her, "you will give me a lesson daily from seven to eight o'clock in the evening. With regard to your wish to receive a rouble a lesson, I have no objection at all. A rouble—well, let it be a rouble...."
And he went on asking her if she wanted tea or coffee, if the weather was fine, and, smiling good naturedly, stroking the tablecloth5 with the palm of his hand, he asked her kindly6 who she was, where she had completed her education, and how she earned her living.
In a cold, business-like tone Alice Ossipovna answered that she had completed her education at a private school, and had then qualified7 as a domestic teacher, that her father had died recently of scarlet8 fever, her mother was alive and made artificial flowers, that she, Mademoiselle Enquette, gave private lessons at a pension in the morning, and from one o'clock right until the evening she taught in respectable private houses.
She went, leaving a slight and almost imperceptible perfume of a woman's dress behind her. Vorotov did not work for a long time afterwards but sat at the table stroking the green cloth and thinking.
"It's very pleasant to see girls earning their own living," he thought. "On the other hand it is very unpleasant to realise that poverty does not spare even such elegant and pretty girls as Alice Ossipovna; she, too, must struggle for her existence. Rotten luck!..."
Having never seen virtuous9 Frenchwomen he also thought that this exquisitely dressed Alice Ossipovna, with her well-developed shoulders and unnaturally small waist was in all probability, engaged in something else besides teaching.
Next evening when the clock pointed10 to five minutes to seven, Alice Ossipovna arrived, rosy11 from the cold; she opened Margot (an elementary text-book) and began without any preamble12:
"The French grammar has twenty-six letters. The first is called A, the second B...."
"Pardon," interrupted Vorotov, smiling, "I must warn you, Mademoiselle, that you will have to change your methods somewhat in my case. The fact is that I know Russian, Latin and Greek very well. I have studied comparative philology13, and it seems to me that we may leave out Margot and begin straight off to read some author." And he explained to the Frenchwoman how grown-up people study languages.
"A friend of mine," said he, "who wished to know modern languages put a French, German and Latin gospel in front of him and then minutely analysed one word after another. The result—he achieved his purpose in less than a year. Let us take some author and start reading."
The Frenchwoman gave him a puzzled look. It was evident that Vorotov's proposal appeared to her naive14 and absurd. If he had not been grown up she would certainly have got angry and stormed at him, but as he was a very stout, adult man at whom she could not storm, she only shrugged15 her shoulders half-perceptibly and said:
"Just as you please."
Vorotov ransacked16 his bookshelves and produced a ragged17 French book.
"Will this do?" he asked.
"It's all the same."
"In that case let us begin. Let us start from the title, Mémoires."
"Reminiscences...." translated Mademoiselle Enquette.
"Reminiscences...." repeated Vorotov.
Smiling good naturedly and breathing heavily, he passed a quarter of an hour over the word mémoires and the same with the word de. This tired Alice Ossipovna out. She answered his questions carelessly, got confused and evidently neither understood her pupil nor tried to. Vorotov asked her questions, and at the same time glanced furtively18 at her fair hair, thinking:
"The hair is not naturally curly. She waves it. Marvellous! She works from morning till night and yet she finds time to wave her hair."
At eight o'clock sharp she got up, gave him a dry, cold "Au revoir, Monsieur," and left the study. After her lingered the same sweet, subtle, agitating19 perfume. The pupil again did nothing for a long time, but sat by the table and thought.
During the following days he became convinced that his teacher was a charming girl serious and punctual, but very uneducated and incapable20 of teaching grown up people; so he decided he would not waste his time, but part with her and engage someone else. When she came for the seventh lesson he took an envelope containing seven roubles out of his pocket. Holding it in his hands and blushing furiously, he began:
"I am sorry, Alice Ossipovna, but I must tell you.... I am placed in an awkward position...."
The Frenchwoman glanced at the envelope and guessed what was the matter. For the first time during the lessons a shiver passed over her face and the cold, business-like expression disappeared. She reddened faintly, and casting her eyes down, began to play absently with her thin gold chain. And Vorotov, noticing her confusion, understood how precious this rouble was to her, how hard it would be for her to lose this money.
"I must tell you," he murmured, getting still more confused. His heart gave a thump21. Quickly he put the envelope back into his pocket and continued:
"Excuse me. I ... I will leave you for ten minutes...."
And as though he did not want to dismiss her at all, but had only asked permission to retire for a moment he went into another room and sat there for ten minutes. Then he returned, more confused than ever; he thought that his leaving her like that would be explained by her in a certain way and this made him awkward.
The lessons began again.
Vorotov wanted them no more. Knowing that they would lead to nothing he gave the Frenchwoman a free hand; he did not question or interrupt her any more. She translated at her own sweet will, ten pages a lesson, but he did not listen. He breathed heavily and for want of occupation gazed now and then at her curly little head, her neck, her soft white hands, and inhaled22 the perfume of her dress.
He caught himself thinking about her as he ought not and it shamed him, or admiring her, and then he felt aggrieved23 and angry because she behaved so coldly towards him, in such a businesslike way, never smiling and as if afraid that he might suddenly touch her. All the while he thought: How could he inspire her with confidence in him, how could he get to know her better, to help her, to make her realise how badly she taught, poor little soul?
Once Alice Ossipovna came to the lesson in a dainty pink dress, a little décolleté, and such a sweet scent24 came from her that you might have thought she was wrapped in a cloud, that you had only to blow on her for her to fly away or dissolve like smoke. She apologised, saying she could only stay for half an hour, because she had to go straight from the lesson to a ball.
He gazed at her neck, at her bare shoulders and he thought he understood why Frenchwomen were known to be light-minded and easily won; he was drowned in this cloud of scent, beauty, and nudity, and she, quite unaware25 of his thoughts and probably not in the least interested in them, read over the pages quickly and translated full steam ahead:
"He walked over the street and met the gentleman of his friend and said: where do you rush? seeing your face so pale it makes me pain."
The Mémoires had been finished long ago; Alice was now translating another book. Once she came to the lesson an hour earlier, apologising because she had to go to the Little Theatre at seven o'clock. When the lesson was over Vorotov dressed and he too went to the theatre. It seemed to him only for the sake of rest and distraction26, and he did not even think of Alice. He would not admit that a serious man, preparing for a scientific career, a stay-at-home, should brush aside his book and rush to the theatre for the sake of meeting an unintellectual, stupid girl whom he hardly knew.
But somehow, dining the intervals28 his heart beat, and, without noticing it, he ran about the foyer and the corridors like a boy, looking impatiently for someone. Every time the interval27 was over he was tired, but when he discovered the familiar pink dress and the lovely shoulders veiled with tulle his heart jumped as if from a presentiment29 of happiness, he smiled joyfully30, and for the first time in his life he felt jealous.
Alice was with two ugly students and an officer. She was laughing, talking loudly and evidently flirting31. Vorotov had never seen her like that. Apparently32 she was happy, contented33, natural, warm. Why? What was the reason? Perhaps because these people were dear to her and belonged to the same class as she. Vorotov felt the huge abyss between him and that class. He bowed to his teacher, but she nodded coldly and quietly passed by. It was plain she did not want her cavaliers to know that she had pupils and gave lessons because she was poor.
After the meeting at the theatre Vorotov knew that he was in love. During lessons that followed he devoured34 his elegant teacher with his eyes, and no longer struggling, he gave full rein35 to his pure and impure36 thoughts. Alice's face was always cold. Exactly at eight o'clock every evening she said calmly, "Au revoir, Monsieur," and he felt that she was indifferent to him and would remain indifferent, that—his position was hopeless.
Sometimes in the middle of a lesson he would begin dreaming, hoping, building plans; he composed an amorous37 declaration, remembering that Frenchwomen were frivolous38 and complaisant39, but he had only to give his teacher one glance for his thoughts to be blown out like a candle, when you carry it on to the verandah of a bungalow40 and the wind is blowing. Once, overcome, forgetting everything, in a frenzy41, he could stand it no longer. He barred her way when she came from the study into the hall after the lesson and, losing his breath and stammering42, began to declare his love:
"You are dear to me!... I love you. Please let me speak!"
Alice grew pale: probably she was afraid that after this declaration she would not be able to come to him any more and receive a rouble a lesson. She looked at him with terrified eyes and began in a loud whisper:
"Ah, it's impossible! Do not speak, I beg you! Impossible!"
Afterwards Vorotov did not sleep all night; he tortured himself with shame, abused himself, thinking feverishly43. He thought that his declaration had offended the girl and that she would not come any more. He made up his mind to find out where she lived from the Address Bureau and to write her an apology. But Alice came without the letter. For a moment she felt awkward, and then opened the book and began to translate quickly, in an animated44 voice, as always:
"'Oh, young gentleman, do not rend45 these flowers in my garden which I want to give to my sick daughter.'"
She still goes. Four books have been translated by now but Vorotov knows nothing beyond the word mémoires, and when he is asked about his scientific research work he waves his hand, leaves the question unanswered, and begins to talk about the weather.
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2
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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3
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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5
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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6
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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7
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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8
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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9
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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12
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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philology
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| n.语言学；语文学 | |
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14
naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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15
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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16
ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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17
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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19
agitating
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| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
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20
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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21
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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22
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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24
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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25
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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26
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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27
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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28
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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29
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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30
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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31
flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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32
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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33
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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34
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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35
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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36
impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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37
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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38
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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39
complaisant
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| adj.顺从的，讨好的 | |
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40
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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41
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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42
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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43
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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44
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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45
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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