British -- Russia -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Soviet Union -- History -- Revolution, 1917-1921 -- Fiction
The meal continued. There were little suckling pigs with "Kasha," a kind
of brown buckwheat. Every one was gayer and gayer. Now all talked at
once, and no one listened to anything that any one else said. Of them
all, Nina was by far the gayest. She had drunk no wine--she always said
that she could not bear the nasty stuff, and although every one tried to
persuade her, telling her that now when you could not get it anywhere,
it was wicked not to drink it, she would not change her mind. It was
simply youth and happiness that radiated from her, and also perhaps some
other excitement for which I could not account. Grogoff tried to make
her drink. She defied him. He came over to her chair, but she pushed him
away, and then lightly slapped his cheek. Every one laughed. Then he
whispered something to her. For an instant the gaiety left her eyes.
"You shouldn't say that!" she answered almost angrily. He went back to
his seat. I was sitting next to her, and she was very charming to me,
seeing that I had all that I needed and showing that she liked me. "You
mustn't be gloomy and ill and miserable," she whispered to me. "Oh! I've
seen you! There's no need. Come to us and we'll make you as happy as we
can--Vera and I.... We both love you."
"My dear, I'm much too old and stupid for you to bother about!"
She put her hand on my arm. "I know that I'm wicked and care only for
pleasure.... Vera's always saying so. But I can be better if you want me
to be."
This was flattering, but I knew that it was only her general happiness
that made her talk like that. And at once she was after something else.
"Your Englishman," she said, looking across the table at Lawrence, "I
like his face. I should be frightened of him, though."
"Oh no, you wouldn't," I answered. "He wouldn't hurt any one."
She continued to look at him and he, glancing up, their eyes met. She
smiled and he smiled. Then he raised his glass and drank.
"I mustn't drink," she called across the table. "It's only water and
that's bad luck."
"Oh, you can challenge any amount of bad luck--I'm sure," he called
back to her.
I fancied that Grogoff did not like this. He was drinking a great deal.
He roughly called Nina's attention.
"Nina... Ah--Nina!"
But she, although I am certain that she heard him, paid no attention.
He called again more loudly:
"Nina... Nina!"
"Well?" She turned towards him, her eyes laughing at him.
"Drink my health."
"I can't. I have only water."
"Then you must drink wine."
"I won't. I detest it."
"But you must."
He came over to her and poured a little red wine into her water. She
turned and emptied the glass over his hand. For an instant his face was
dark with rage.
"I'll pay you for that," I heard him whisper.
She shrugged her shoulders. "He's tiresome, Boris...." she said, "I like
your Englishman better."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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