Sanine Mikhail Artsybashev (android pdf ebook reader txt) 📖

father with black, glittering eyes. Just at suppertime came Novikoff, Ivanoff and Semenoff.

Semenoff was a consumptive student who for some months past had lived in the town, where he gave lessons. He was thin, ugly, and looked very delicate. Upon his face, which was prematurely aged, lay the fleeting shadow of approaching death. Ivanoff was a schoolmaster, a long-haired, broad-shouldered, ungainly man. They had been walking on the boulevard, and hearing of Yourii’s arrival had come to salute him. With their coming things grew more cheerful. There was laughter and joking, and at supper much was drunk. Ivanoff distinguished himself in this respect. During the few days that followed his unfortunate proposal to Lida, Novikoff had become somewhat calmer. That Lida had refused him might have been accidental, he thought; it was his fault, indeed, as he ought to have prepared her for such an avowal. Nevertheless it was painful to him to visit the Sanines. Therefore he endeavoured to meet Lida elsewhere, either in the street, or at the house of a mutual friend. She, for her part, pitied him, and, in a way, blamed herself which caused her to treat him with exaggerated cordiality, so that Novikoff once more began to hope.

“What do you say to this?” he asked, just as they were all going, “Let’s arrange a picnic at the convent, shall we?”

The convent, situated on a hill at no great distance from the town, was a favourite place for excursions. It was near the river, and the road leading to it was good.

Devoted as she was to every kind of amusement such as bathing, rowing and walks in the woods, Lialia welcomed the idea with enthusiasm.

“Yes, of course! Of course! But when is it to be?”

“Well, why not tomorrow?” said Novikoff.

“Who else shall we ask?” asked Riasantzeff, equally pleased at the prospect of a day’s outing. In the woods he would be able to hold Lialia in his arms, to kiss her, and feel that the sweet body he coveted was near.

“Let us see. We are six. Suppose we ask Schafroff?”

“Who is he?” inquired Yourii.

“Oh! he’s a young student.”

“Very well; and Ludmilla Nicolaievna will invite Karsavina and Olga Ivanovna.”

“Who are they?” asked Yourii once more.

Lialia laughed. “You will see!” she said, kissing the tips of her fingers and looking very mysterious.

“Aha!” said Yourii, smiling. “Well, we shall see what we shall see!”

After some hesitation, Novikoff with an air of indifference, remarked:

“We might ask the Sanines too.”

“Oh! we must have Lida,” cried Lialia, not because she particularly liked the girl, but because she knew of Novikoff’s passion, and wished to please him. She was so happy herself in her own love, that she wanted all those about her to be happy also.

“Then we shall have to invite the officers, too,” observed Ivanoff, maliciously.

“What does that matter? Let us do so. The more the merrier!”

They all stood at the front door, in the moonlight.

“What a lovely night!” exclaimed Lialia, as unconsciously she drew closer to her lover. She did not wish him to go yet. Riasantzeff with his elbow pressed her warm, round arm.

“Yes, it’s a wonderful night!” he replied, giving to these simple words a meaning that they two alone could seize.

“Oh! you, and your night!” muttered Ivanoff in his deep bass. “I’m sleepy, so good night, sirs!”

And he slouched off, along the street, swinging his arms like the sails of a windmill.

Novikoff and Semenoff went next, and Riasantzeff was a long while saying goodbye to Lialia, pretending to talk about the picnic.

“Now, we must all go to bye-bye,” said Lialia, laughingly, when he had taken his leave. Then she sighed, being loth to leave the moonlight, the soft night air, and all for which her youth and beauty longed. Yourii remembered that his father had not yet retired to rest, and feared that, if they met, a painful and useless discussion would be inevitable.

“No!” he replied, his eyes fixed on the faint blue mist about the river, “No! I don’t want to go to sleep. I shall go out for a while.”

“As you like,” said Lialia, in her sweet, gentle voice. Stretching herself, she half closed her eyes like a cat, smiled at the moonlight, and went in. For a few minutes Yourii stood there, watching the dark shadows of the houses and the trees; then he went in the same direction that Semenoff had taken.

The latter had not gone far, walking slowly and stooping as he coughed. His black shadow followed him along the moonlit road. Yourii soon overtook him and at once noticed how changed he was. During supper Semenoff had joked and laughed more perhaps than anyone else, but now he walked along, gloomy and self-absorbed, and in his hollow cough there was something hopeless and threatening like the disease from which he suffered.

“Ah! it’s you!” he said, somewhat peevishly, as Yourii thought.

“I wasn’t sleepy. I’ll walk back with you, if you like.”

“Yes, do!” replied Semenoff, carelessly.

“Aren’t you cold?” asked Yourii, merely because this distressing cough made him nervous.

“I am always cold,” replied Semenoff irritably.

Yourii felt pained, as if he had purposely touched a sore point.

“Is it a long while since you left the University?” he asked.

Semenoff did not immediately reply.

“A long while,” he said, at last.

Yourii then spoke of the feeling that actually existed among the students and of what they considered most important and essential. He began simply and impassively, but by degrees let himself go, expressing himself with fervour and point.

Semenoff said nothing, and listened.

Then Yourii deplored the lack of revolutionary spirit among the masses. It was plain that he felt this deeply.

“Did you read Bebel’s last speech?” he asked.

“Yes, I did,” replied Semenoff.

“Well, what do you say?”

Semenoff irritably flourished his stick, which had a crooked handle. His shadow similarly waved a long black arm which made Yourii think of the black wings of some infuriated bird of prey.

“What do I say?” he blurted out. “I say that I am going to die.”

And again he waved his stick and again