Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Russia -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
I was then twenty-one years of age. We were, I thought, prosperous; from
my home life I expected no more than it had already given me; all the
people whom I knew, it seemed to me, loved me; my health was excellent,
I knew that I was pretty, my _toilettes_ were the freshest at the baths,
the weather was superb, an indefinable atmosphere of beauty and elegance
surrounded me, and everything appeared to me in the highest degree
delightful and joyous. Yet I was not, as light-hearted as I had been in
the old days at Nikolski, when I had felt that my happiness was within
myself, when I was happy because I deserved to be so, when my happiness
was great but might be greater still. Now all was different;
nevertheless the summer was charming. I had nothing to desire, nothing
to hope, nothing to fear; my life, as it seemed to me, was at its full,
and my conscience, it also seemed to me, was entirely clear.
Among the men most conspicuous at the baths during this season, there
was not one whom, for any reason whatever, I preferred above the others,
not even old Prince K. our ambassador, who paid me distinguished
attention. One was too young, another was too old, this one was an
Englishman with light curly hair, that one, a bearded Frenchman; I was
perfectly indifferent to all, but, at the same time, all were
indispensable to me. Insignificant as they might be, they yet belonged
to, and formed a part of, this life of elegance surrounding me, this
atmosphere in which I breathed. However, there was one among them, an
Italian, Marquis D. who, by the bold fashion in which he showed the
admiration he felt for me, had attracted my attention more than the
others. He allowed no occasion to escape him of meeting me, dancing with
me, appearing on horseback beside me, accompanying me to the casino, and
he was constantly telling me how beautiful I was. From my window I
sometimes saw him wandering around our house, and more than once the
annoying persistence of the glances shot towards me from his flashing
eyes had made me blush and turn away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account