Rudin listened, smoking a cigarette, and said little. He could speak well and liked speaking; carrying on a conversation was not in his line, though he was also a good listener. All men — if only they had not been intimidated10 by him to begin with — opened their hearts with confidence in his presence; he followed the thread of another man’s narrative11 so readily and sympathetically. He had a great deal of good-nature — that special good-nature of which men are full, who are accustomed to feel themselves superior to others. In arguments he seldom allowed his antagonist12 to express himself fully13, he crushed him by his eager, vehement14 and passionate15 dialectic.
Darya Mihailovna expressed herself in Russian. She prided herself on her knowledge of her own language, though French words and expressions often escaped her. She intentionally16 made use of simple popular terms of speech; but not always successfully. Rudin’s ear was not outraged17 by the strange medley19 of language on Darya Mihailovna’s lips, indeed he hardly had an ear for it.
Darya Mihailovna was exhausted20 at last and letting her head fall on the cushions of her easy-chair she fixed21 her eyes on Rudin and was silent.
‘I understand now,’ began Rudin, speaking slowly, ‘I understand why you come every summer into the country. This period of rest is essential for you; the peace of the country after your life in the capital refreshes and strengthens you. I am convinced that you must be profoundly sensitive to the beauties of nature.’
Darya Mihailovna gave Rudin a sidelong look.
‘Nature — yes — yes — of course. . . . I am passionately22 fond of it; but do you know, Dmitri Nikolaitch, even in the country one cannot do without society. And here there is practically none. Pigasov is the most intelligent person here.’
‘The cross old gentleman who was here last night?’ inquired Rudin.
‘Yes. . . . In the country though, even he is of use — he sometimes makes one laugh.’
‘He is by no means stupid,’ returned Rudin, ‘but he is on the wrong path. I don’t know whether you will agree with me, Darya Mihailovna, but in negation23 — in complete and universal negation — there is no salvation24 to be found? Deny everything and you will easily pass for a man of ability; it’s a well-known trick. Simple-hearted people are quite ready to conclude that you are worth more than what you deny. And that’s often an error. In the first place, you can pick holes in anything; and secondly25, even if you are right in what you say, it’s the worse for you; your intellect, directed by simple negation, grows colourless and withers26 up. While you gratify your vanity, you are deprived of the true consolations27 of thought; life — the essence of life — evades your petty and jaundiced criticism, and you end by scolding and becoming ridiculous. Only one who loves has the right to censure28 and find fault.’
‘Voila, Monsieur Pigasov enterre,’ observed Darya Mihailovna. ‘What a genius you have for defining a man! But Pigasov certainly would not have even understood you. He loves nothing but his own individuality.’
‘And he finds fault with that so as to have the right to find fault with others,’ Rudin put in.
Darya Mihailovna laughed.
‘“He judges the sound,” as the saying is, “the sound by the sick.” By the way, what do you think of the baron29?’
‘The baron? He is an excellent man, with a good heart and a knowledge . . . but he has no character . . . and he will remain all his life half a savant, half a man of the world, that is to say, a dilettante30, that is to say, to speak plainly — neither one thing nor the other. . . . But it’s a pity!’
‘That was my own idea,’ observed Darya Mihailovna. ‘I read his article. . . . Entre nous . . . cela a assez peu de fond!’
‘Who else have you here?’ asked Rudin, after a pause.
Darya Mihailovna knocked off the ash of her cigarette with her little finger.
‘Oh, there is hardly any one else. Madame Lipin, Alexandra Pavlovna, whom you saw yesterday; she is very sweet — but that is all. Her brother is also a capital fellow — un parfait honnete homme. The Prince Garin you know. Those are all. There are two or three neighbours besides, but they are really good for nothing. They either give themselves airs or are unsociable, or else quite unsuitably free and easy. The ladies, as you know, I see nothing of. There is one other of our neighbours said to be a very cultivated, even a learned, man, but a dreadfully queer creature, a whimsical character. Alexandrine, knows him, and I fancy is not indifferent to him. . . . Come, you ought to talk to her, Dmitri Nikolaitch; she’s a sweet creature. She only wants developing.’
‘I liked her very much,’ remarked Rudin.
‘A perfect child, Dmitri Nikolaitch, an absolute baby. She has been married, mais c’est tout31 comme. . . . If I were a man, I should only fall in love with women like that.’
‘Really?’
‘Certainly. Such women are at least fresh, and freshness cannot be put on.’
‘And can everything else?’ Rudin asked, and he laughed — a thing which rarely happened with him. When he laughed his face assumed a strange, almost aged18 appearance, his eyes disappeared, his nose was wrinkled up.
‘And who is this queer creature, as you call him, to whom Madame Lipin is not indifferent?’ he asked.
‘A certain Lezhnyov, Mihailo Mihailitch, a landowner here.’
Rudin seemed astonished; he raised his head.
‘Lezhnyov — Mihailo Mihailitch?’ he questioned. ‘Is he a neighbour of yours?’
‘Yes. Do you know him?’
Rudin did not speak for a minute.
‘I used to know him long ago. He is a rich man, I suppose?’ he added, pulling the fringe on his chair.
‘Yes, he is rich, though he dresses shockingly, and drives in a racing32 droshky like a bailiff. I have been anxious to get him to come here; he is spoken of as clever; I have some business with him. . . . You know I manage my property myself.’
Rudin bowed assent33.
‘Yes; I manage it myself,’ Darya Mihailovna continued. ‘I don’t introduce any foreign crazes, but prefer what is our own, what is Russian, and, as you see, things don’t seem to do badly,’ she added, with a wave of her hand.
‘I have always been persuaded,’ observed Rudin urbanely34, ‘of the absolutely mistaken position of those people who refuse to admit the practical intelligence of women.’
Darya Mihailovna smiled affably.
‘You are very good to us,’ was her comment ‘But what was I going to say? What were we speaking of? Oh, yes; Lezhnyov: I have some business with him about a boundary. I have several times invited him here, and even to-day I am expecting him; but there’s no knowing whether he’ll come . . . he’s such a strange creature.’
The curtain before the door was softly moved aside and the steward35 came in, a tall man, grey and bald, in a black coat, a white cravat36, and a white waistcoat.
‘What is it?’ inquired Darya Mihailovna, and, turning a little towards Rudin, she added in a low voice, ‘n’est ce pas, comme il ressemble a Canning?’
‘Mihailo Mihailitch Lezhnyov is here,’ announced the steward. ‘Will you see him?’
‘Good Heavens!’ exclaimed Darya Mihailovna, ‘speak of the devil —— ask him up.’
The steward went away.
‘He’s such an awkward creature. Now he has come, it’s at the wrong moment; he has interrupted our talk.’
Rudin got up from his seat, but Darya Mihailovna stopped him.
‘Where are you going? We can discuss the matter as well before you. And I want you to analyse him too, as you did Pigasov. When you talk, vous gravez comme avec un burin. Please stay.’ Rudin was going to protest, but after a moment’s thought he sat down.
Mihailo Mihailitch, whom the reader already knows, came into the room. He wore the same grey overcoat, and in his sunburnt hands he carried the same old foraging37 cap. He bowed tranquilly38 to Darya Mihailovna, and came up to the tea-table.
‘At last you have favoured me with a visit, Monsieur Lezhnyov!’ began Darya Mihailovna. ‘Pray sit down. You are already acquainted, I hear,’ she continued, with a gesture in Rudin’s direction.
Lezhnyov looked at Rudin and smiled rather queerly.
‘I know Mr. Rudin,’ he assented39, with a slight bow.
‘We were together at the university,’ observed Rudin in a low voice, dropping his eyes.
‘And we met afterwards also,’ remarked Lezhnyov coldly.
Darya Mihailovna looked at both in some perplexity and asked Lezhnyov to sit down He sat down.
‘You wanted to see me,’ he began, ‘on the subject of the boundary?’
‘Yes; about the boundary. But I also wished to see you in any case. We are near neighbours, you know, and all but relations.’
‘I am much obliged to you,’ returned Lezhnyov. ‘As regards the boundary, we have perfectly arranged that matter with your manager; I have agreed to all his proposals.’
‘I knew that. But he told me that the contract could not be signed without a personal interview with you.’
‘Yes; that is my rule. By the way, allow me to ask: all your peasants, I believe, pay rent?’
‘Just so.’
‘And you trouble yourself about boundaries! That’s very praiseworthy.’
Lezhnyov did not speak for a minute.
‘Well, I have come for a personal interview,’ he said at last.
Darya Mihailovna smiled.
‘I see you have come. You say that in such a tone. . . . You could not have been very anxious to come to see me.’
‘I never go anywhere,’ rejoined Lezhnyov phlegmatically40.
‘Not anywhere? But you go to see Alexandra Pavlovna.’
‘I am an old friend of her brother’s.’
‘Her brother’s! However, I never wish to force any one. . . . But pardon me, Mihailo Mihailitch, I am older than you, and I may be allowed to give you advice; what charm do you find in such an unsociable way of living? Or is my house in particular displeasing41 to you? You dislike me?’
‘I don’t know you, Darya Mihailovna, and so I can’t dislike you. You have a splendid house; but I will confess to you frankly42 I don’t like to have to stand on ceremony. And I haven’t a respectable suit, I haven’t any gloves, and I don’t belong to your set.’
‘By birth, by education, you belong to it, Mihailo Mihailitch! vous etes des notres.’
‘Birth and education are all very well, Darya Mihailovna; that’s not the question.’
‘A man ought to live with his fellows, Mihailo Mihailitch! What pleasure is there in sitting like Diogenes in his tub?’
‘Well, to begin with, he was very well off there, and besides, how do you know I don’t live with my fellows?’
Darya Mihailovna bit her lip.
‘That’s a different matter! It only remains43 for me to express my regret that I have not the honour of being included in the number of your friends.’
‘Monsieur Lezhnyov,’ put in Rudin, ‘seems to carry to excess a laudable sentiment — the love of independence.’
Lezhnyov made no reply, he only looked at Rudin. A short silence followed.
‘And so,’ began Lezhnyov, getting up, ‘I may consider our business as concluded, and tell your manager to send me the papers.’
‘You may, . . . though I confess you are so uncivil I ought really to refuse you.’
‘But you know this rearrangement of the boundary is far more in your interest than in mine.’
Darya Mihailovna shrugged44 her shoulders.
‘You will not even have luncheon45 here?’ she asked.
‘Thank you; I never take luncheon, and I am in a hurry to get home.’
Darya Mihailovna got up.
‘I will not detain you,’ she said, going to the window. ‘I will not venture to detain you.’
Lezhnyov began to take leave.
‘Good-bye, Monsieur Lezhnyov! Pardon me for having troubled you.’
‘Oh, not at all!’ said Lezhnyov, and he went away.
‘Well, what do you say to that?’ Darya Mihailovna asked of Rudin. ‘I had heard he was eccentric, but really that was beyond everything!’
‘His is the same disease as Pigasov’s,’ observed Rudin, ‘the desire of being original. One affects to be a Mephistopheles — the other a cynic. In all that, there is much egoism, much vanity, but little truth, little love. Indeed, there is even calculation of a sort in it. A man puts on a mask of indifference and indolence so that some one will be sure to think. “Look at that man; what talents he has thrown away!” But if you come to look at him more attentively46, there is no talent in him whatever.’
‘Et de deux!‘ was Darya Mihailovna’s comment. ‘You are a terrible man at hitting people off. One can hide nothing from you.’
‘Do you think so?’ said Rudin. . . . ‘However,’ he continued, ‘I ought not really to speak about Lezhnyov; I loved him, loved him as a friend . . . but afterwards, through various misunderstandings . . .’
‘You quarrelled?’
‘No. But we parted, and parted, it seems, for ever.’
‘Ah, I noticed that the whole time of his visit you were not quite yourself. . . . But I am much indebted to you for this morning. I have spent my time extremely pleasantly. But one must know where to stop. I will let you go till lunch time and I will go and look after my business. My secretary, you saw him — Constantin, c’est lui qui est mon secretaire — must be waiting for me by now. I commend him to you; he is an excellent, obliging young man, and quite enthusiastic about you. Au revoir, cher Dmitri Nikolaitch! How grateful I am to the baron for having made me acquainted with you!’
And Darya Mihailovna held out her hand to Rudin. He first pressed it, then raised it to his lips and went away to the drawing-room and from there to the terrace. On the terrace he met Natalya.
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1
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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3
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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6
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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7
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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8
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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9
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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10
intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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11
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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14
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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15
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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16
intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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19
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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21
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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22
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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24
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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26
withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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consolations
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| n.安慰，慰问( consolation的名词复数 )；起安慰作用的人（或事物） | |
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28
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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29
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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30
dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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31
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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32
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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33
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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34
urbanely
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| adv.都市化地，彬彬有礼地，温文尔雅地 | |
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35
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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36
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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37
foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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38
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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39
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
phlegmatically
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41
displeasing
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| 不愉快的，令人发火的 | |
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42
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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43
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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44
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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46
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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