Russian fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, Russian -- Translations into English
Victor stretched out his hand lazily, took the flowers, smelt them
carelessly, and began to turn them around in his fingers, looking up
with thoughtful importance. Akulina gazed at him. There was so much
tender devotion, reverent obedience, and love in her pensive eyes.
She at once feared him, and yet she dared not cry, and inwardly she
bade him farewell, and admired him for the last time; and he lay
there, stretched out like a sultan, and endured her admiration with
magnanimous patience and condescension. I confess I was filled with
indignation as I looked at his red face, which betrayed satisfied
selfishness through his feigned contempt and indifference. Akulina was
so beautiful at this moment. All her soul opened before him trustingly
and passionately--it reached out to him, caressed him, and he.... He
dropped the cornflowers on the grass, took out from the side-pocket of
his coat a round glass in a bronze frame and began to force it into his
eye; but no matter how hard he tried to hold it with his knitted brow,
his raised cheek, and even with his nose, the glass dropped out and
fell into his hands.
“What’s this?” asked Akulina at last, with surprise.
“A lorgnette,” he replied importantly.
“What is it for?”
“To see better.”
“Let me see it.”
Victor frowned, but gave her the glass.
“Look out; don’t break it.”
“Don’t be afraid, I’ll not break it.” She lifted it timidly to her eye.
“I can’t see anything,” she said naively.
“Shut your eye,” he retorted in the tone of a dissatisfied teacher. She
closed the eye before which she held the glass.
“Not that eye, not that one, you fool! The other one!” exclaimed
Victor, and, not allowing her to correct her mistake, he took the
lorgnette away from her.
Akulina blushed, laughed slightly, and turned away.
“It seems it’s not for us.”
“Of course not!”
The poor girl maintained silence, and heaved a deep sigh.
“Oh, Victor Alexandrovich, how will I get along without you?” she said
suddenly.
Victor wiped the lorgnette and put it back into his pocket.
“Yes, yes,” he said at last. “At first it will really be hard for you.”
He tapped her on the shoulder condescendingly; she quietly took his
hand from her shoulder and kissed it. “Well, yes, yes, you are indeed
a good girl,” he went on, with a self-satisfied smile; “but it can’t
be helped! Consider it yourself! My master and I can’t stay here, can
we? Winter is near, and to pass the winter in the country is simply
nasty--you know it yourself. It’s a different thing in St. Petersburg!
There are such wonders over there that you could not imagine even
in your dreams, you silly.--What houses, what streets, and society,
education--it’s something wonderful!--” Akulina listened to him with
close attention, slightly opening her lips like a child. “However,”
he added, wriggling on the ground, “why do I say all this to you? You
can’t understand it anyway!”
“Why not, Victor Alexandrovich? I understood, I understood everything.”
“Just think of her!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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