Produced by sp1nd, Mebyon, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) ANNOUCHKA A Tale BY IVAN SERGHEÏEVITCH TURGENEF _TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF THE AUTHOR'S OWN TRANSLATION_ BY FRANKLIN ABBOTT BOSTON CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY 1884 _Copyright_, BY FRANKLIN P. ABBOTT, 1884. _All Rights Reserved._ C. J. PETERS AND SON, ELECTROTYPERS AND STEREOTYPERS, 145 HIGH STREET. ANNOUCHKA. I. I was then five-and-twenty,--that was a sufficient indication that I had a past, said he, beginning. My own master for some little time, I resolved to travel,--not to complete my education, as they said at the time, but to see the world. I was young, light-hearted, in good health, free from every care, with a well-filled purse; I gave no thought to the future; I indulged every whim,--in fact, I lived like a flower that expands in the sun. The idea that man is but a plant, and that its flower can only live a short time, had not yet occurred to me. "Youth," says a Russian proverb, "lives upon gilded gingerbread, which it ingenuously takes for bread; then one day even bread fails." But of what use are these digressions? I travelled from place to place, with no definite plan, stopping where it suited me, moving at once when I felt the need of seeing new faces,--nothing more. The men alone interested me; I abhorred remarkable monuments, celebrated collections, and _ciceroni_; the _Galerie Verte_ of Dresden almost drove me mad. As to nature, it gave me some very keen impressions, but I did not care the least in the world for what is commonly called its beauties,--mountains, rocks, waterfalls, which strike me with astonishment; I did not care to have nature impose itself upon my admiration or trouble my mind. In return, I could not live without my fellow-creatures; their talk, their laughter, their movements, were for me objects of prime necessity. I felt superlatively well in the midst of a crowd; I followed gayly the surging of men, shouting when they shouted, and observing them attentively whilst they abandoned themselves to enthusiasm. Yes, the study of men was, indeed, my delight; and yet is study the word? I contemplated them, enjoying it with an intense curiosity. But again I digress. So, then, about five-and-twenty years ago I was living in the small town of Z., upon the banks of the Rhine. I sought isolation: a young widow, whose acquaintance I made at a watering-place, had just inflicted upon me a cruel blow. Pretty and intelligent, she coquetted with every one, and with me in particular; then, after some encouragement, she jilted me for a Bavarian lieutenant with rosy cheeks.