Russia -- Social life and customs -- 1533-1917 -- Fiction
Little Oblomov proceeded to peep into the servants’ hall, where the
inmates were sleeping as though slumber had become an epidemic. On the
benches, on the floor, and on the threshold they slept, while their
children crawled about the courtyard and fashioned mud pies. Indeed, the
very dogs had crawled into their kennels, since there was no longer
any one to bark at. In short, one might have traversed the entire
establishment without meeting a single soul; and everything in it could
with ease have been stolen, and removed in carts from the courtyard,
since no one would have been there to prevent the deed. The prevailing
lethargy was all-consuming, all-conquering--a true image of death;
seeing that, but for the fact that from various corners there came
snores in different notes and keys, every one seemed wholly to have
departed this life. Only at rare intervals would some one raise his head
with a start, gaze around him with vacant eyes, and then turn over to
the other side.
After dinner the child accompanied his nurse for a second airing out of
doors. Yet, despite her mistress’s injunctions and her own resolves,
the old woman could not altogether resist the general call of sleep,
and began to fall a victim to the all-prevalent malady of Oblomovka. At
first she kept a vigilant eye upon her little charge, and, chiding him
for his waywardness, never let him stray from her side; but presently,
after giving him strict instructions not to go beyond the gates, nor
to interfere with the goat, nor to climb either the dovecote or the
gallery, she settled herself in a shady spot, with the ostensible
intention of at once knitting a stocking and of watching over young
Oblomov. Next she took to checking him only in lazy fashion, as her head
nodded and she said to herself: “Look you, he will certainly climb those
stairs to the gallery, or else”--her eyes had almost closed--“he will
run down into the ravine.” With that her head sank forward, and the
stocking slipped from her hands. In a second her open mouth had emitted
a gentle snore, and the boy had disappeared from her vision.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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