The diary of a superfluous man, and other storiesTurgenev, Ivan Sergeevich
General
The diary of a superfluous man, and other stories
Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich
Diary fiction; Russia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich, 1818-1883 -- Translations into English
The heroic frame of mind, which had suddenly developed in me, had not
disappeared by the end of the mazurka; but I did not indulge in any
more epigrams or 'quizzing.' I contented myself with glancing
occasionally with gloomy severity at my partner, who was obviously
beginning to be afraid of me, and was utterly tongue-tied and
continuously blinking by the time I placed her under the protection of
her mother, a very fat woman with a red cap on her head. Having
consigned the scared maiden lady to her natural belongings, I turned
away to a window, folded my arms, and began to await what would happen.
I had rather long to wait. The prince was the whole time surrounded by
his host--surrounded, simply, as England is surrounded by the sea,--to
say nothing of the other members of the marshal's family and the rest
of the guests. And besides, he could hardly go up to such an
insignificant person as me and begin to talk without arousing a general
feeling of surprise. This insignificance, I remember, was positively a
joy to me at the time. 'All right,' I thought, as I watched him
courteously addressing first one and then another highly respected
personage, honoured by his notice, if only for an 'instant's flash,' as
the poets say;--'all right, my dear ... you'll come to me soon--I've
insulted you, anyway.' At last the prince, adroitly escaping from the
throng of his adorers, passed close by me, looked somewhere between the
window and my hair, was turning away, and suddenly stood still, as
though he had recollected something. 'Ah, yes!' he said, turning to me
with a smile, 'by the way, I have a little matter to talk to you
about.'
Two country gentlemen, of the most persistent, who were obstinately
pursuing the prince, probably imagined the 'little matter' to relate to
official business, and respectfully fell back. The prince took my arm
and led me apart. My heart was thumping at my ribs.
'You, I believe,' he began, emphasising the word _you,_ and looking at
my chin with a contemptuous expression, which, strange to say, was
supremely becoming to his fresh and handsome face, 'you said something
abusive to me?'
'I said what I thought,' I replied, raising my voice.
'Sh ... quietly,' he observed; 'decent people don't bawl. You would
like, perhaps, to fight me?'
'That's your affair,' I answered, drawing myself up.
'I shall be obliged to challenge you,' he remarked carelessly, 'if you
don't withdraw your expressions....'
'I do not intend to withdraw from anything,' I rejoined with pride.
'Really?' he observed, with an ironical smile.
'In that case,' he continued, after a brief pause, 'I shall have the
honour of sending my second to you to-morrow.'
'Very good, 'I said in a voice, if possible, even more indifferent.
The prince gave a slight bow.
'I cannot prevent you from considering me empty-headed,' he added, with
a haughty droop of his eyelids; 'but the Princes N---- cannot be
upstarts. Good-bye till we meet, Mr.... Mr. Shtukaturin.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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