‘Here he is in person,’ he said with a glance in Seriozha’s direction. ‘Do come and join us,’ he added, at the same time bowing respectfully to the pretty cousin. ‘The Countess would like you to be presented to her.’
‘I have wanted for a very long time to have this honour,’ said Seriozha with every appearance of youthful confusion, and bowed.
‘But there was really no need to wait until now to say so,’ replied the Countess, looking at him with an ingenuous smile.
Seriozha did not answer but, growing redder and redder, racked his brains to think of something to say other than banalities.
Prince Kornakov seemed to be regarding the young man’s genuine embarrassment with great pleasure, but observing that his embarrassment was continuing, and despite the Countess’s social experience, was even beginning to affect her too, he said:
‘Accordez-vous un tour de valse, Madame la Comtesse?’13 The Countess, aware that he had not danced for a long time, looked at him in surprise.
‘Pas à moi, Madame la Comtesse; je me sens trop laid et trop vieux pour prétendre à cet honneur.’14
‘You will forgive me, my dear boy, for taking on myself the role of your interpreter,’ he added to Seriozha. Seriozha bowed. The Countess stood up and faced him, silently crooked her pretty arm and raised it to shoulder level, but just as Seriozha had put his arm round her the music stopped, and they stood there until the musicians, seeing the signs the Prince was making to them, again struck up the waltz. Seriozha would never forget those few seconds in which he twice took hold of and twice relinquished his lady’s waist.
Seriozha could not feel his feet gliding over the parquet: it seemed to him that he was being transported farther and farther away from the many-coloured crowd all around him. All his vital energies were concentrated in his sense of hearing, which made him obey the sounds of the music, now causing him to moderate the vigour of his movements, now to whirl round faster and faster as he felt the Countess’s waist conforming so wonderfully to his every movement that it seemed to be melting into him, becoming one with him; concentrated too in his gaze, which with an inexplicable blend of delight and dread rested at one moment on the Countess’s white shoulder, and at the next on her radiant blue eyes covered with the lightest film of moisture which lent them an indescribable expression of languor and passion.
‘Just look there, if you please – what could be finer than that young couple?’ said Prince Kornakov, turning to Seriozha’s cousin. ‘You know what a passion I have for bringing attractive young people together.’
‘Yes, now Serge does look really happy.’
‘And not only Serge – I am sure the Countess too finds it far more agreeable to be dancing with him than with an old man like me.’
‘You obviously want me to tell you that you are not yet “an old man”.’
‘Whatever can you take me for? I am well aware that I am not yet old: but I am something worse than that – I am bored, I am played out, just like all these gentlemen here, though they are utterly incapable of realizing it; but in the first place Seriozha is a novelty for me, and in the second place it seems to me that no woman could imagine or desire a better man than he is. Just look, what a delight to see!’ he went on, looking at them with a smile of satisfaction. ‘And how adorable she is! I really am quite in love with them both …’
‘I shall of course warn Liza at once.’ (Liza was the Countess’s name.)
‘No, I have of course long ago apologized to the Countess for not having fallen in love with her – and she knows that it is only because I am quite incapable of falling in love; but I am in love with them both – the pair of them.’
Prince Kornakov was not the only one to admire Seriozha and Countess Schöfing as they waltzed round the floor: all who were not dancing could not help following the couple with their eyes – some with pure delight at the sight of something lovely, others with envy and annoyance.
Seriozha was so deeply stirred by the combined impressions of dancing, music and love, that when Countess Schöfing asked him to escort her back to her seat, and having thanked him with a smile took her hand from his shoulder, he suddenly felt an almost irresistible desire to seize the opportunity of the moment, and to kiss her.
[V]
[Innocence]
VI
Love
The whole ball passed for the infatuated Seriozha like a wonderful and captivating dream, the sort of dream one passionately wishes to be real. The Countess had only the sixth quadrille left unclaimed, and she danced it with him. Their conversation was of the kind usual at balls; but for Seriozha every word possessed a special meaning, as did every smile and glance and movement. During another quadrille an acknowledged admirer of the Countess’s, one D., sat down near them. Seriozha for some reason interpreted this as a sign that D. took him for a mere boy, and was filled with the most hostile feelings towards him; but the Countess was particularly charming and kind to her new acquaintance, speaking in the most cursory manner to D., then at once turning to Seriozha with a smile and a look which clearly expressed her pleasure. There are no two things which are so intimately connected, yet frequently destructive of one another, as are love and self-love. But at this moment these two passions were combined to turn Seriozha’s head completely and utterly. In the mazurka the Countess chose him twice and he chose her twice. During one of the figures she handed him her bouquet. Seriozha pulled out a sprig from it and hid it in his glove. The Countess saw him do it, and smiled.
The Countess was not able to stay for supper. Seriozha accompanied her as far as the steps.
‘I hope we shall see you at our house,’ she said, giving him her hand.
‘And when may I come?’
‘At any time.’
‘At any time?!’ he repeated in a voice filled with emotion, and involuntarily squeezed the delicate little hand which lay so trustfully in his. The Countess blushed, her hand quivered – was she trying to reply to his pressure, or to free her hand? Heaven knows – a shy smile trembling on her rosy little mouth, she walked away down the steps.
Seriozha was inexpressibly happy. The emotion of love, aroused in his youthful soul for the first time, could not confine itself to one object, but overflowed on to all human beings and everything around him. Everyone seemed to him so kind, so loving and so worthy of being loved. He stopped on the staircase, took the torn-off sprig out of his glove, and with a rapture which brought the tears to his eyes, pressed it several times to his lips.
‘Well, and are you pleased with your charming débardeur?’ asked Prince Kornakov.
‘Oh, how grateful I am to you! I have never been so happy,’ he answered ardently, pressing the Prince’s hand.
VII
And she could be happy too
On arriving home the Countess enquired out of habit about the Count. He had not yet returned. For the first time she felt pleased that he was not there. She wanted for a few hours at least to set a distance between herself and the reality which seemed to her now, after this evening, oppressive, and to spend a short while alone with her dreams. And her dreams were delightful.
Seriozha was so unlike all the men who had hitherto surrounded her that he could not fail to catch her attention. His movements, his voice, his look, all bore the special stamp of youth, of openness and warmth of spirit. The type of the innocent boy who has yet to experience the upsurge of the passions and of sensual enjoyments, a type which ought to be such a normal one among people who have not strayed from the law of nature but which is, alas, so rarely met with among them, proved to be for the Countess, who had spent her whole life in this unnatural sphere called society, a most fascinating and delightful novelty.