No More Learning

I am oppressed by such strange thoughts, such gloomy
sensations; questions still so obscure to me are crowding into my
brain--and I seem to have neither power nor will to settle them. It's
not for me to settle all this!

To-day we shall not meet. Yesterday, when we said good-bye, the clouds
began gathering over the sky and a mist rose. I said that to-morrow it
would be a bad day; she made no answer, she did not want to speak
against her wishes; for her that day was bright and clear, not one cloud
should obscure her happiness.

"If it rains we shall not see each other," she said, "I shall not come. "

I thought that she would not notice to-day's rain, and yet she has not
come.

Yesterday was our third interview, our third white night. . . .

But how fine joy and happiness makes any one! How brimming over with
love the heart is! One seems longing to pour out one's whole heart; one
wants everything to be gay, everything to be laughing. And how
infectious that joy is! There was such a softness in her words, such a
kindly feeling in her heart towards me yesterday. . . . How solicitous and
friendly she was; how tenderly she tried to give me courage! Oh, the
coquetry of happiness! While I . . . I took it all for the genuine thing,
I thought that she. . . .

But, my God, how could I have thought it? How could I have been so
blind, when everything had been taken by another already, when nothing
was mine; when, in fact, her very tenderness to me, her anxiety, her
love . . . yes, love for me, was nothing else but joy at the thought of
seeing another man so soon, desire to include me, too, in her
happiness? . . . When he did not come, when we waited in vain, she frowned,
she grew timid and discouraged. Her movements, her words, were no longer
so light, so playful, so gay; and, strange to say, she redoubled her
attentiveness to me, as though instinctively desiring to lavish on me
what she desired for herself so anxiously, if her wishes were not
accomplished. My Nastenka was so downcast, so dismayed, that I think she
realized at last that I loved her, and was sorry for my poor love. So
when we are unhappy we feel the unhappiness of others more; feeling is
not destroyed but concentrated. . . .

I went to meet her with a full heart, and was all impatience. I had no
presentiment that I should feel as I do now, that it would not all end
happily. She was beaming with pleasure; she was expecting an answer. The
answer was himself. He was to come, to run at her call. She arrived a
whole hour before I did. At first she giggled at everything, laughed at
every word I said. I began talking, but relapsed into silence.

"Do you know why I am so glad," she said, "so glad to look at you? --why
I like you so much to-day? "

"Well? " I asked, and my heart began throbbing.

"I like you because you have not fallen in love with me. You know that
some men in your place would have been pestering and worrying me, would
have been sighing and miserable, while you are so nice! "

Then she wrung my hand so hard that I almost cried out. She laughed.

"Goodness, what a friend you are! " she began gravely a minute later.
"God sent you to me. What would have happened to me if you had not been
with me now? How disinterested you are! How truly you care for me! When
I am married we will be great friends, more than brother and sister; I
shall care almost as I do for him. . . . "

I felt horribly sad at that moment, yet something like laughter was
stirring in my soul.

"You are very much upset," I said; "you are frightened; you think he
won't come. "

"Oh dear! " she answered; "if I were less happy, I believe I should cry
at your lack of faith, at your reproaches. However, you have made me
think and have given me a lot to think about; but I shall think later,
and now I will own that you are right. Yes, I am somehow not myself; I
am all suspense, and feel everything as it were too lightly. But hush!
that's enough about feelings. . . . "

At that moment we heard footsteps, and in the darkness we saw a figure
coming towards us. We both started; she almost cried out; I dropped her
hand and made a movement as though to walk away. But we were mistaken,
it was not he.

"What are you afraid of? Why did you let go of my hand? " she said,
giving it to me again. "Come, what is it? We will meet him together; I
want him to see how fond we are of each other. "

"How fond we are of each other! " I cried. ("Oh, Nastenka, Nastenka," I
thought, "how much you have told me in that saying! Such fondness at
_certain_ moments makes the heart cold and the soul heavy. Your hand is
cold, mine burns like fire. How blind you are, Nastenka! . . . Oh, how
unbearable a happy person is sometimes! But I could not be angry with
you! ")

At last my heart was too full.

"Listen, Nastenka! " I cried. "Do you know how it has been with me all
day. "

"Why, how, how? Tell me quickly! Why have you said nothing all this
time? "

"To begin with, Nastenka, when I had carried out all your commissions,
given the letter, gone to see your good friends, then . . . then I went
home and went to bed. "

"Is that all? " she interrupted, laughing.

"Yes, almost all," I answered restraining myself, for foolish tears were
already starting into my eyes. "I woke an hour before our appointment,
and yet, as it were, I had not been asleep. I don't know what happened
to me. I came to tell you all about it, feeling as though time were
standing still, feeling as though one sensation, one feeling must remain
with me from that time for ever; feeling as though one minute must go on
for all eternity, and as though all life had come to a standstill for
me. . . . When I woke up it seemed as though some musical motive long
familiar, heard somewhere in the past, forgotten and voluptuously sweet,
had come back to me now. It seemed to me that it had been clamouring at
my heart all my life, and only now. . . . "

"Oh my goodness, my goodness," Nastenka interrupted, "what does all that
mean? I don't understand a word. "

"Ah, Nastenka, I wanted somehow to convey to you that strange
impression. . . . " I began in a plaintive voice, in which there still lay
hid a hope, though a very faint one.

"Leave off. Hush! " she said, and in one instant the sly puss had
guessed.

Suddenly she became extraordinarily talkative, gay, mischievous; she
took my arm, laughed, wanted me to laugh too, and every confused word I
uttered evoked from her prolonged ringing laughter. . . . I began to feel
angry, she had suddenly begun flirting.

"Do you know," she began, "I feel a little vexed that you are not in
love with me? There's no understanding human nature! But all the same,
Mr. Unapproachable, you cannot blame me for being so simple; I tell you
everything, everything, whatever foolish thought comes into my head. "

"Listen! That's eleven, I believe," I said as the slow chime of a bell
rang out from a distant tower. She suddenly stopped, left off laughing
and began to count.

"Yes, it's eleven," she said at last in a timid, uncertain voice.

I regretted at once that I had frightened her, making her count the
strokes, and I cursed myself for my spiteful impulse; I felt sorry for
her, and did not know how to atone for what I had done.

I began comforting her, seeking for reasons for his not coming,
advancing various arguments, proofs. No one could have been easier to
deceive than she was at that moment; and, indeed, any one at such a
moment listens gladly to any consolation, whatever it may be, and is
overjoyed if a shadow of excuse can be found.

"And indeed it's an absurd thing," I began, warming to my task and
admiring the extraordinary clearness of my argument, "why, he could not
have come; you have muddled and confused me, Nastenka, so that I too,
have lost count of the time. . . . Only think: he can scarcely have
received the letter; suppose he is not able to come, suppose he is going
to answer the letter, could not come before to-morrow. I will go for it
as soon as it's light to-morrow and let you know at once. Consider,
there are thousands of possibilities; perhaps he was not at home when
the letter came, and may not have read it even now! Anything may happen,
you know. "

"Yes, yes! " said Nastenka. "I did not think of that. Of course anything
may happen? " she went on in a tone that offered no opposition, though
some other far-away thought could be heard like a vexatious discord in
it. "I tell you what you must do," she said, "you go as early as
possible to-morrow morning, and if you get anything let me know at once.
You know where I live, don't you? "

And she began repeating her address to me.

Then she suddenly became so tender, so solicitous with me. She seemed to
listen attentively to what I told her; but when I asked her some
question she was silent, was confused, and turned her head away. I
looked into her eyes--yes, she was crying.

"How can you? How can you? Oh, what a baby you are! what
childishness! . . . Come, come! "

She tried to smile, to calm herself, but her chin was quivering and her
bosom was still heaving.

"I was thinking about you," she said after a minute's silence. "You are
so kind that I should be a stone if I did not feel it. Do you know what
has occurred to me now? I was comparing you two. Why isn't he you? Why
isn't he like you? He is not as good as you, though I love him more than
you. "

I made no answer. She seemed to expect me to say something.

"Of course, it may be that I don't understand him fully yet. You know I
was always as it were afraid of him; he was always so grave, as it were
so proud. Of course I know it's only that he seems like that, I know
there is more tenderness in his heart than in mine. . . . I remember how he
looked at me when I went in to him--do you remember? --with my bundle;
but yet I respect him too much, and doesn't that show that we are not
equals? "

"No, Nastenka, no," I answered, "it shows that you love him more than
anything in the world, and far more than yourself. "

"Yes, supposing that is so," answered Nastenka naïvely. "But do you know
what strikes me now? Only I am not talking about him now, but speaking
generally; all this came into my mind some time ago. Tell me, how is it
that we can't all be like brothers together?
Why is it that even the
best of men always seem to hide something from other people and to keep
something back? Why not say straight out what is in one's heart, when
one knows that one is not speaking idly? As it is every one seems
harsher than he really is, as though all were afraid of doing injustice
to their feelings, by being too quick to express them. "

"Oh, Nastenka, what you say is true; but there are many reasons for
that," I broke in suppressing my own feelings at that moment more than
ever.

"No, no! " she answered with deep feeling. "Here you, for instance, are
not like other people! I really don't know how to tell you what I feel;
but it seems to me that you, for instance . . . at the present moment . . .
it seems to me that you are sacrificing something for me," she added
timidly, with a fleeting glance at me. "Forgive me for saying so, I am a
simple girl you know. I have seen very little of life, and I really
sometimes don't know how to say things," she added in a voice that
quivered with some hidden feeling, while she tried to smile; "but I only
wanted to tell you that I am grateful, that I feel it all too. . . . Oh,
may God give you happiness for it! What you told me about your dreamer
is quite untrue now--that is, I mean, it's not true of you. You are
recovering, you are quite a different man from what you described. If
you ever fall in love with some one, God give you happiness with her! I
won't wish anything for her, for she will be happy with you. I know, I
am a woman myself, so you must believe me when I tell you so. "

She ceased speaking, and pressed my hand warmly. I too could not speak
without emotion. Some minutes passed.

"Yes, it's clear he won't come to-night," she said at last raising her
head. "It's late. "

"He will come to-morrow," I said in the most firm and convincing tone.

"Yes," she added with no sign of her former depression. "I see for
myself now that he could not come till to-morrow. Well, good-bye, till
to-morrow. If it rains perhaps I shall not come. But the day after
to-morrow, I shall come. I shall come for certain, whatever happens; be
sure to be here, I want to see you, I will tell you everything. "

And then when we parted she gave me her hand and said, looking at me
candidly: "We shall always be together, shan't we? "

Oh, Nastenka, Nastenka! If only you knew how lonely I am now!

As soon as it struck nine o'clock I could not stay indoors, but put on
my things, and went out in spite of the weather. I was there, sitting on
our seat. I went to her street, but I felt ashamed, and turned back
without looking at their windows, when I was two steps from her door. I
went home more depressed than I had ever been before. What a damp,
dreary day! If it had been fine I should have walked about all night. . . .

But to-morrow, to-morrow! To-morrow she will tell me everything. The
letter has not come to-day, however. But that was to be expected. They
are together by now. . . .


FOURTH NIGHT

My God, how it has all ended! What it has all ended in! I arrived at
nine o'clock. She was already there. I noticed her a good way off; she
was standing as she had been that first time, with her elbows on the
railing, and she did not hear me coming up to her.

"Nastenka! " I called to her, suppressing my agitation with an effort.

She turned to me quickly.

"Well? " she said. "Well? Make haste! "

I looked at her in perplexity.

"Well, where is the letter? Have you brought the letter? " she repeated
clutching at the railing.

"No, there is no letter," I said at last. "Hasn't he been to you yet? "
She turned fearfully pale and looked at me for a long time without
moving. I had shattered her last hope.

"Well, God be with him," she said at last in a breaking voice; "God be
with him if he leaves me like that. "

She dropped her eyes, then tried to look at me and could not. For
several minutes she was struggling with her emotion. All at once she
turned away, leaning her elbows against the railing and burst into
tears.

"Oh don't, don't! " I began; but looking at her I had not the heart to go
on, and what was I to say to her?

"Don't try and comfort me," she said; "don't talk about him; don't tell
me that he will come, that he has not cast me off so cruelly and so
inhumanly as he has. What for--what for? Can there have been something
in my letter, that unlucky letter? "

At that point sobs stifled her voice; my heart was torn as I looked at
her.

"Oh, how inhumanly cruel it is! " she began again. "And not a line, not a
line! He might at least have written that he does not want me, that he
rejects me--but not a line for three days! How easy it is for him to
wound, to insult a poor, defenceless girl, whose only fault is that she
loves him! Oh, what I've suffered during these three days! Oh, dear!
When I think that I was the first to go to him, that I humbled myself
before him, cried, that I begged of him a little love! . . . and after
that! Listen," she said, turning to me, and her black eyes flashed, "it
isn't so! It can't be so; it isn't natural. Either you are mistaken or
I; perhaps he has not received the letter? Perhaps he still knows
nothing about it? How could any one--judge for yourself, tell me, for
goodness' sake explain it to me, I can't understand it--how could any
one behave with such barbarous coarseness as he has behaved to me? Not
one word! Why, the lowest creature on earth is treated more
compassionately. Perhaps he has heard something, perhaps some one has
told him something about me," she cried, turning to me inquiringly:
"What do you think? "

"Listen, Nastenka, I shall go to him to-morrow in your name. "

"Yes? "

"I will question him about everything; I will tell him everything. "

"Yes, yes? "

"You write a letter. Don't say no, Nastenka, don't say no! I will make
him respect your action, he shall hear all about it, and if----"

"No, my friend, no," she interrupted. "Enough! Not another word, not
another line from me--enough! I don't know him; I don't love him any
more. I will . . . forget him. "

She could not go on.

"Calm yourself, calm yourself! Sit here, Nastenka," I said, making her
sit down on the seat.

"I am calm. Don't trouble. It's nothing! It's only tears, they will soon
dry. Why, do you imagine I shall do away with myself, that I shall throw
myself into the river? "

My heart was full: I tried to speak, but I could not.

"Listen," she said taking my hand. "Tell me: you wouldn't have behaved
like this, would you? You would not have abandoned a girl who had come
to you of herself, you would not have thrown into her face a shameless
taunt at her weak foolish heart? You would have taken care of her? You
would have realized that she was alone, that she did not know how to
look after herself, that she could not guard herself from loving you,
that it was not her fault, not her fault--that she had done nothing. . . .
Oh dear, oh dear! "

"Nastenka! " I cried at last, unable to control my emotion. "Nastenka,
you torture me! You wound my heart, you are killing me, Nastenka! I
cannot be silent! I must speak at last, give utterance to what is
surging in my heart! "

As I said this I got up from the seat. She took my hand and looked at me
in surprise.

"What is the matter with you? " she said at last.

"Listen," I said resolutely. "Listen to me, Nastenka! What I am going to
say to you now is all nonsense, all impossible, all stupid! I know that
this can never be, but I cannot be silent. For the sake of what you are
suffering now, I beg you beforehand to forgive me! "

"What is it? What is it? " she said drying her tears and looking at me
intently, while a strange curiosity gleamed in her astonished eyes.
"What is the matter? "

"It's impossible, but I love you, Nastenka! There it is! Now everything
is told," I said with a wave of my hand. "Now you will see whether you
can go on talking to me as you did just now, whether you can listen to
what I am going to say to you. ". . .

"Well, what then? " Nastenka interrupted me. "What of it? I knew you
loved me long ago, only I always thought that you simply liked me very
much. . . . Oh dear, oh dear! "

"At first it was simply liking, Nastenka, but now, now! I am just in the
same position as you were when you went to him with your bundle. In a
worse position than you, Nastenka, because he cared for no one else as
you do. "

"What are you saying to me! I don't understand you in the least. But
tell me, what's this for; I don't mean what for, but why are you . . . so
suddenly. . . . Oh dear, I am talking nonsense! But you. . . . "

And Nastenka broke off in confusion. Her cheeks flamed; she dropped her
eyes.

"What's to be done, Nastenka, what am I to do? I am to blame. I have
abused your. . . . But no, no, I am not to blame, Nastenka; I feel that, I
know that, because my heart tells me I am right, for I cannot hurt you
in any way, I cannot wound you! I was your friend, but I am still your
friend, I have betrayed no trust. Here my tears are falling, Nastenka.