‘All right, I say,’ observed the stout general, wrinkling up his nose;
‘we all know you are aiming at the ministry.’
‘Not at all ... the ministry indeed! But really one can’t refuse to
recognise things.’
Boris plunged his fingers again into his whiskers, and stared into the
air.
‘Social life is very important, because in the development of the
people, in the destinies, so to speak, of the country----’
‘_Valérien_,’ interrupted Boris reprovingly, ‘_il y a des dames ici_. I
did not expect this of you, or do you want to get on to a committee?’
‘But they are all closed now, thank God,’ put in the irritable general,
and he began humming again ‘_Deux gendarmes un beau dimanche_.’
Ratmirov raised a cambric handkerchief to his nose and gracefully
retired from the discussion; the condescending general repeated ‘Rascal!
rascal!’ but Boris turned to the lady who ‘grimaced upon the desert air’
and without lowering his voice, or a change in the expression of his
face, began to ply her with questions as to when ‘she would reward his
devotion,’ as though he were desperately in love with her and suffering
tortures on her account.
At every moment during this conversation Litvinov felt more and more ill
at ease. His pride, his clean plebeian pride, was fairly in revolt.
What had he, the son of a petty official, in common with these military
aristocrats of Petersburg? He loved everything they hated; he hated
everything they loved; he was only too vividly conscious of it, he felt
it in every part of his being. Their jokes he thought dull, their tone
intolerable, every gesture false; in the very smoothness of their
speeches he detected a note of revolting contemptuousness--and yet he
was, as it were, abashed before them, before these creatures, these
enemies. ‘Ugh! how disgusting! I am in their way, I am ridiculous to
them,’ was the thought that kept revolving in his head. ‘Why am I
stopping? Let me escape at once, at once.’ Irina’s presence could not
retain him; she, too, aroused melancholy emotions in him. He got up from
his seat and began to take leave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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