Veshnie vody. English, Page 3

  'Stay by all means! You won't be in the least in my way,' Sanin criedat once. Like every true Russian he was glad to clutch at any excusethat saved him from the necessity of doing anything himself.

  Emil thanked him, and in a very short time he was completely at homewith him and with his room; he looked at all his things, asked himabout almost every one of them, where he had bought it, and what wasits value. He helped him to shave, observing that it was a mistake notto let his moustache grow; and finally told him a number of detailsabout his mother, his sister, Pantaleone, the poodle Tartaglia, andall their daily life. Every semblance of timidity vanished in Emil; hesuddenly felt extraordinarily attracted to Sanin--not at all becausehe had saved his life the day before, but because he was such a niceperson! He lost no time in confiding all his secrets to Sanin. Heexpatiated with special warmth on the fact that his mother was seton making him a shopkeeper, while he _knew_, knew for certain, thathe was born an artist, a musician, a singer; that Pantaleone evenencouraged him, but that Herr Klueber supported mamma, over whom he hadgreat influence; that the very idea of his being a shopkeeper reallyoriginated with Herr Klueber, who considered that nothing in the worldcould compare with trade! To measure out cloth--and cheat the public,extorting from it '_Narren--oder Russen Preise_' (fools'--or Russianprices)--that was his ideal! [Footnote: In former days--and verylikely it is not different now--when, from May onwards, a great numberof Russians visited Frankfort, prices rose in all the shops, and werecalled 'Russians',' or, alas! 'fools' prices.']

  'Come! now you must come and see us!' he cried, directly Sanin hadfinished his toilet and written his letter to Berlin.

  'It's early yet,' observed Sanin.

  'That's no matter,' replied Emil caressingly. 'Come along! We'll go tothe post--and from there to our place. Gemma will be so glad to seeyou! You must have lunch with us.... You might say a word to mammaabout me, my career....'

  'Very well, let's go,' said Sanin, and they set off.

  X

  Gemma certainly was delighted to see him, and Frau Lenore gave him avery friendly welcome; he had obviously made a good impression on bothof them the evening before. Emil ran to see to getting lunch ready,after a preliminary whisper, 'don't forget!' in Sanin's ear.

  'I won't forget,' responded Sanin.

  Frau Lenore was not quite well; she had a sick headache, and,half-lying down in an easy chair, she tried to keep perfectly still.Gemma wore a full yellow blouse, with a black leather belt round thewaist; she too seemed exhausted, and was rather pale; there were darkrings round her eyes, but their lustre was not the less for it; itadded something of charm and mystery to the classical lines of herface. Sanin was especially struck that day by the exquisite beauty ofher hands; when she smoothed and put back her dark, glossy tresses hecould not take his eyes off her long supple fingers, held slightlyapart from one another like the hand of Raphael's Fornarina.

  It was very hot out-of-doors; after lunch Sanin was about to takeleave, but they told him that on such a day the best thing was to staywhere one was, and he agreed; he stayed. In the back room where he wassitting with the ladies of the household, coolness reigned supreme;the windows looked out upon a little garden overgrown with acacias.Multitudes of bees, wasps, and humming beetles kept up a steady,eager buzz in their thick branches, which were studded with goldenblossoms; through the half-drawn curtains and the lowered blinds thisnever-ceasing hum made its way into the room, telling of the sultryheat in the air outside, and making the cool of the closed and snugabode seem the sweeter.

  Sanin talked a great deal, as on the day before, but not of Russia,nor of Russian life. Being anxious to please his young friend, whohad been sent off to Herr Klueber's immediately after lunch, toacquire a knowledge of book-keeping, he turned the conversation onthe comparative advantages and disadvantages of art and commerce. Hewas not surprised at Frau Lenore's standing up for commerce--he hadexpected that; but Gemma too shared her opinion.

  'If one's an artist, and especially a singer,' she declared with avigorous downward sweep of her hand, 'one's got to be first-rate!Second-rate's worse than nothing; and who can tell if one willarrive at being first-rate?' Pantaleone, who took part too in theconversation--(as an old servant and an old man he had the privilegeof sitting down in the presence of the ladies of the house; Italiansare not, as a rule, strict in matters of etiquette)--Pantaleone, as amatter of course, stood like a rock for art. To tell the truth, hisarguments were somewhat feeble; he kept expatiating for the most parton the necessity, before all things, of possessing '_un certo estrod'inspirazione_'--a certain force of inspiration! Frau Lenore remarkedto him that he had, to be sure, possessed such an '_estro_'--andyet ... 'I had enemies,' Pantaleone observed gloomily. 'And how doyou know that Emil will not have enemies, even if this "_estro_" isfound in him?' 'Very well, make a tradesman of him, then,' retortedPantaleone in vexation 'but Giovan' Battista would never have doneit, though he was a confectioner himself!' 'Giovan' Battista, myhusband, was a reasonable man, and even though he was in his youth ledaway ...' But the old man would hear nothing more, and walked away,repeating reproachfully, 'Ah! Giovan' Battista!...' Gemma exclaimedthat if Emil felt like a patriot, and wanted to devote all his powersto the liberation of Italy, then, of course, for such a high and holycause he might sacrifice the security of the future--but not for thetheatre! Thereupon Frau Lenore became much agitated, and began toimplore her daughter to refrain at least from turning her brother'shead, and to content herself with being such a desperate republicanherself! Frau Lenore groaned as she uttered these words, and begancomplaining of her head, which was 'ready to split.' (Frau Lenore, indeference to their guest, talked to her daughter in French.)

  Gemma began at once to wait upon her; she moistened her forehead witheau-de-Cologne, gently blew on it, gently kissed her cheek, made herlay her head on a pillow, forbade her to speak, and kissed her again.Then, turning to Sanin, she began telling him in a half-joking,half-tender tone what a splendid mother she had, and what a beauty shehad been. '"Had been," did I say? she is charming now! Look, look,what eyes!'

  Gemma instantly pulled a white handkerchief out of her pocket, coveredher mother's face with it, and slowly drawing it downwards, graduallyuncovered Frau Lenore's forehead, eyebrows, and eyes; she waited amoment and asked her to open them. Her mother obeyed; Gemma criedout in ecstasy (Frau Lenore's eyes really were very beautiful), andrapidly sliding the handkerchief over the lower, less regular part ofthe face, fell to kissing her again. Frau Lenore laughed, and turninga little away, with a pretence of violence, pushed her daughter away.She too pretended to struggle with her mother, and lavished caresseson her--not like a cat, in the French manner, but with that specialItalian grace in which is always felt the presence of power.

  At last Frau Lenore declared she was tired out ... Then Gemma at onceadvised her to have a little nap, where she was, in her chair, 'andI and the Russian gentleman--"_avec le monsieur russe_"--will be asquiet, as quiet ... as little mice ... "_comme des petites souris_."'Frau Lenore smiled at her in reply, closed her eyes, and after a fewsighs began to doze. Gemma quickly dropped down on a bench beside herand did not stir again, only from time to time she put a finger ofone hand to her lips--with the other hand she was holding up a pillowbehind her mother's head--and said softly, 'sh-sh!' with a sidelonglook at Sanin, if he permitted himself the smallest movement. In theend he too sank into a kind of dream, and sat motionless as thoughspell-bound, while all his faculties were absorbed in admiring thepicture presented him by the half-dark room, here and there spottedwith patches of light crimson, where fresh, luxuriant roses stood inthe old-fashioned green glasses, and the sleeping woman with demurelyfolded hands and kind, weary face, framed in the snowy whitenessof the pillow, and the young, keenly-alert and also kind, clever,pure, and unspeakably beautiful creature with such black, deep,overshadowed, yet shining eyes.... What was it? A dream? a fairytale? And how came _he_ to be in it?

  XI

  The bell tinkled at the outer door. A you
ng peasant lad in a furcap and a red waistcoat came into the shop from the street. Not onecustomer had looked into it since early morning ... 'You see how muchbusiness we do!' Frau Lenore observed to Sanin at lunch-time with asigh. She was still asleep; Gemma was afraid to take her arm from thepillow, and whispered to Sanin: 'You go, and mind the shop for me!'Sanin went on tiptoe into the shop at once. The boy wanted a quarterof a pound of peppermints. 'How much must I take?' Sanin whisperedfrom the door to Gemma. 'Six kreutzers!' she answered in the samewhisper. Sanin weighed out a quarter of a pound, found some paper,twisted it into a cone, tipped the peppermints into it, spilt them,tipped them in again, spilt them again, at last handed them to theboy, and took the money.... The boy gazed at him in amazement,twisting his cap in his hands on his stomach, and in the next room,Gemma was stifling with suppressed laughter. Before the first customerhad walked out, a second appeared, then a third.... 'I bring luck,it's clear!' thought Sanin. The second customer wanted a glass oforangeade, the third, half-a-pound of sweets. Sanin satisfied theirneeds, zealously clattering the spoons, changing the saucers, andeagerly plunging his fingers into drawers and jars. On reckoning up,it appeared that he had charged too little for the orangeade, andtaken two kreutzers too much for the sweets. Gemma did not ceaselaughing softly, and Sanin too was aware of an extraordinary lightnessof heart, a peculiarly happy state of mind. He felt as if he hadfor ever been standing behind the counter and dealing in orangeadeand sweetmeats, with that exquisite creature looking at him throughthe doorway with affectionately mocking eyes, while the summer sun,forcing its way through the sturdy leafage of the chestnuts that grewin front of the windows, filled the whole room with the greenish-goldof the midday light and shade, and the heart grew soft in the sweetlanguor of idleness, carelessness, and youth--first youth!

  A fourth customer asked for a cup of coffee; Pantaleone had to beappealed to. (Emil had not yet come back from Herr Klueber's shop.)Sanin went and sat by Gemma again. Frau Lenore still went on sleeping,to her daughter's great delight. 'Mamma always sleeps off her sickheadaches,' she observed. Sanin began talking--in a whisper, ofcourse, as before--of his minding the shop; very seriously inquiredthe price of various articles of confectionery; Gemma just asseriously told him these prices, and meanwhile both of them wereinwardly laughing together, as though conscious they were playingin a very amusing farce. All of a sudden, an organ-grinder in thestreet began playing an air from the Freischuetz: '_Durch die Felder,durch die Auen_ ...' The dance tune fell shrill and quivering onthe motionless air. Gemma started ... 'He will wake mamma!' Saninpromptly darted out into the street, thrust a few kreutzers intothe organ-grinder's hand, and made him cease playing and move away.When he came back, Gemma thanked him with a little nod of the head,and with a pensive smile she began herself just audibly hummingthe beautiful melody of Weber's, in which Max expresses all theperplexities of first love. Then she asked Sanin whether he knew'Freischuetz,' whether he was fond of Weber, and added that thoughshe was herself an Italian, she liked _such_ music best of all. FromWeber the conversation glided off on to poetry and romanticism, on toHoffmann, whom every one was still reading at that time.

  And Frau Lenore still slept, and even snored just a little, and thesunbeams, piercing in narrow streaks through the shutters, wereincessantly and imperceptibly shifting and travelling over the floor,the furniture, Gemma's dress, and the leaves and petals of theflowers.

  XII

  It appeared that Gemma was not very fond of Hoffmann, that she eventhought him ... tedious! The fantastic, misty northern element inhis stories was too remote from her clear, southern nature. 'It'sall fairy-tales, all written for children!' she declared with somecontempt. She was vaguely conscious, too, of the lack of poetry inHoffmann. But there was one of his stories, the title of which shehad forgotten, which she greatly liked; more precisely speaking, itwas only the beginning of this story that she liked; the end she hadeither not read or had forgotten. The story was about a young man whoin some place, a sort of restaurant perhaps, meets a girl of strikingbeauty, a Greek; she is accompanied by a mysterious and strange,wicked old man. The young man falls in love with the girl at firstsight; she looks at him so mournfully, as though beseeching him todeliver her.... He goes out for an instant, and, coming back into therestaurant, finds there neither the girl nor the old man; he rushesoff in pursuit of her, continually comes upon fresh traces of her,follows them up, and can never by any means come upon her anywhere.The lovely girl has vanished for him for ever and ever, and he isnever able to forget her imploring glance, and is tortured by thethought that all the happiness of his life, perhaps, has slippedthrough his fingers.

  Hoffmann does not end his story quite in that way; but so it had takenshape, so it had remained, in Gemma's memory.

  'I fancy,' she said, 'such meetings and such partings happen oftenerin the world than we suppose.'

  Sanin was silent ... and soon after he began talking ... of HerrKlueber. It was the first time he had referred to him; he had not onceremembered him till that instant.

  Gemma was silent in her turn, and sank into thought, biting the nailof her forefinger and fixing her eyes away. Then she began to speak inpraise of her betrothed, alluded to the excursion he had planned forthe next day, and, glancing swiftly at Sanin, was silent again.

  Sanin did not know on what subject to turn the conversation.

  Emil ran in noisily and waked Frau Lenore ... Sanin was relieved byhis appearance.

  Frau Lenore got up from her low chair. Pantaleone came in andannounced that dinner was ready. The friend of the family, ex-singer,and servant also performed the duties of cook.

  XIII

  Sanin stayed on after dinner too. They did not let him go, still onthe same pretext of the terrible heat; and when the heat began todecrease, they proposed going out into the garden to drink coffee inthe shade of the acacias. Sanin consented. He felt very happy. In thequietly monotonous, smooth current of life lie hid great delights,and he gave himself up to these delights with zest, asking nothingmuch of the present day, but also thinking nothing of the morrow, norrecalling the day before. How much the mere society of such a girl asGemma meant to him! He would shortly part from her and, most likely,for ever; but so long as they were borne, as in Uhland's song, inone skiff over the sea of life, untossed by tempest, well mightthe traveller rejoice and be glad. And everything seemed sweetand delightful to the happy voyager. Frau Lenore offered to playagainst him and Pantaleone at 'tresette,' instructed him in this notcomplicated Italian game, and won a few kreutzers from him, and hewas well content. Pantaleone, at Emil's request, made the poodle,Tartaglia, perform all his tricks, and Tartaglia jumped over a stick'spoke,' that is, barked, sneezed, shut the door with his nose,fetched his master's trodden-down slippers; and, finally, with anold cap on his head, he portrayed Marshal Bernadotte, subjected tothe bitterest upbraidings by the Emperor Napoleon on account of histreachery. Napoleon's part was, of course, performed by Pantaleone,and very faithfully he performed it: he folded his arms across hischest, pulled a cocked hat over his eyes, and spoke very gruffly andsternly, in French--and heavens! what French! Tartaglia sat before hissovereign, all huddled up, with dejected tail, and eyes blinking andtwitching in confusion, under the peak of his cap which was stuck onawry; from time to time when Napoleon raised his voice, Bernadotterose on his hind paws. '_Fuori, traditore!_' cried Napoleon at last,forgetting in the excess of his wrath that he had to sustain his roleas a Frenchman to the end; and Bernadotte promptly flew under thesofa, but quickly darted out again with a joyful bark, as though toannounce that the performance was over. All the spectators laughed,and Sanin more than all.

  Gemma had a particularly charming, continual, soft laugh, with verydroll little shrieks.... Sanin was fairly enchanted by that laugh--hecould have kissed her for those shrieks!

  Night came on at last. He had in decency to take leave! After sayinggood-bye several times over to every one, and repeating several timesto all, 'till to-morrow!'--Emil he went so far as to kiss--Sa
ninstarted home, carrying with him the image of the young girl, at onetime laughing, at another thoughtful, calm, and even indifferent--butalways attractive! Her eyes, at one time wide open, clear and brightas day, at another time half shrouded by the lashes and deep and darkas night, seemed to float before his eyes, piercing in a strange sweetway across all other images and recollections.

  Of Herr Klueber, of the causes impelling him to remain in Frankfort--inshort, of everything that had disturbed his mind the eveningbefore--he never thought once.

  XIV

  We must, however, say a few words about Sanin himself.

  In the first place, he was very, very good-looking. A handsome,graceful figure, agreeable, rather unformed features, kindly bluisheyes, golden hair, a clear white and red skin, and, above all, thatpeculiar, naively-cheerful, confiding, open, at the first glance,somewhat foolish expression, by which in former days one couldrecognise directly the children of steady-going, noble families,'sons of their fathers,' fine young landowners, born and reared inour open, half-wild country parts,--a hesitating gait, a voice with alisp, a smile like a child's the minute you looked at him ... lastly,freshness, health, softness, softness, softness,--there you have thewhole of Sanin. And secondly, he was not stupid and had picked up afair amount of knowledge. Fresh he had remained, for all his foreigntour; the disturbing emotions in which the greater part of the youngpeople of that day were tempest-tossed were very little known to him.