'I like your house enormously!' he said, adjusting his spectacles.
The General's wife smiled and told him that the house had origi- nally belonged to her father, then she asked whether his parents were still alive, how long he had been in the army, why he looked so thin, etc. . . . Having received answers to her questions, she moved on, while Ryabovich began to smile even more warmly after his conver- sation with her, and to think that he was surrounded by the most splendid people . . .
At supper, he ate mechanically everything he was offered, drank, and deafto the world, triedtoexplain his recent adventure to himself . . . The adventure had a mysterious, romantic qualiry to it, but its explanation was not hard to find. No doubt one ofthe girls or young ladies had arranged to meet someone in the dark room, had been waiting for a long time, and in her state of nervous excitement had mistaken Ryabovich for her hero; especially as Ryabovich, on his way through the dark room, had paused to collect his thoughts, in other words had given the impression of someone who was also waiting . . . Thus Ryabovich explained to himself the kiss he had received.
'But who was she?' he thought, looking round the female faces. 'She must be young, because you don't find old ladies making assignations. And she must be educated, because of her rustling dress, her perfume, her voice . . .'
His eye came to rest on the young girl in lilac, and he liked the look ofher very much; she had beautiful arms and shoulders, an intellig- ent face and an anractive voice. Looking at her, Ryabovich wanted her to be the unknown woman, and her alone . .. But she began laughing in an artificial kind of way and wrinkled up her long nose, which struck him as old-looking. Then he turned his attention to the little blonde in the black dress. She was younger, simpler and more sincere, had a charming forehead, and drank very prettily from her wine-glass. Now Ryabovich wanted her to be the one. But he soon found her features lifeless, and transferred his gaze to her neighbour . ..
'It's difficult to decide,' he thought dreamily. 'If you took the lilac one's ar;ns and shoulders, added the little blonde's forehead, and the eyes of the one sitting on Lobytko's left, then . . .'
He put them together in his mind and obtained an image ofthe girl who had kissed him, the image that he had searched for but been quite unable to find at the supper table ...
After supper the visitors, feeling tipsy and replete, began to thank their hosts and take their leave. The hosts started apologising again for not inviting them to stay the night.
'Delighted to have met you, gentlemen!' said the General, and this time sincerely (probably because people are much more friendly and sincere seeing visitors off than greeting them). 'Delighted! You must pay us another visit on your return journey! Informally! Which way are you going? Along the top? No, take the lower route through the garden - it's quicker from here.'
The officers went out into the garden. After all the noise and bright lights the gardenseemed very dark and quiet. They walked in silence until they reached the gate. They were half-drunk, in a cheerful mood, and contented, but the silence and darkness made them pause for a minute to reflect. Probably each of them had the same thought as occurred to Ryabovich: would there ever be a time when they too would be like Rabbek and have a large house, a family and garden, when they too would be in a position to be kind to people, if only insincerely, and to make them drunk, replete and contented?
Once through the gate, they all suddenly began talking and laugh- ing loudly for no reason. They were now walking down a footpath which descended to the river, where it ran along the water's edge, skirting round bushes growing on the bank, inlets, and willow trees overhanging the water. The near bank and path were scarcely visible, while the far bank was completely plunged in darkness. Stars were reflected here and there in the dark water; they trembled and dissol- ved, and only from this could one guess that the river was flowing swiftly. Thc air was still. From the far bank came the plaintive cry of drowsy snipe, while in one of the bushes on the ncar bank, paying no attention at all to the crowd ofofficers, a nightingale was in full song. The officers stood by the bush and shook it gently, but the nighting- ale just went on singing.
'How about that?' they exclaimed approvingly. 'We're standing right by him and the little rascal doesn't give a damn!'
At the cnd of their walk thc footpath began to climb, joining the road near the church wall. Tired by thc uphill walk, the officers sat down here for a smoke. A dim red light appeared on the far side of the river, and they spent a long time idly debating whether it was a bonfire, a lighted window, or something else . . . Ryabovich also looked at the light and fancicd that it was smiling and winking at him, as if it knew about the kiss.
On reaching the billet, Ryabovich quickly undressed and lay down. He was sharing a hut with Lobytko and Lieutenant Merz- lyakov, a quiet, taciturn young fellow who was regarded by his associates as an educated officer and who spent all his spare timt: reading The European Herald, which he carried with him wherever he wcnt. Lobytko undressed, paced up and down for a long time with the look of a man who is not satisfied, and sent the batman out for bcer. Merzlyakov lay down, stood a candle by his bed, and buried himself in The European Herald.
'But who was she?' thought Ryabovich, looking at the smoke- blackened ceiling.
His neck still seemed to be bathed with oil and he could feel the cold tingle, like that of peppermints, next to his mouth. In his imagination he glimpsed the arms and shoulders of the girl in lilac, the forehead and candid gaze of the little blonde in black, waists, dresses and brooches. He tried to fix his attention on these images, but they jumped about, dissolved, kept flickering. As these images were fading away completely on the wide black ground that everyone sees when they close their eyes, he began to hear hurrying footsteps, a rustling'dress, the sound of a kiss — and a powerful irrational joy took possession of him. He was giving himself up to this joy when he heard the batman come back and report that no beer was to be had. Lobytko became terribly indignant at this, and started pacing up and down again.
'The man's an idiot!' he said, stopping in front of Ryabovich, then in front of Merzlyakov. 'Anyone who can't find beer needs his head
examining! Well, doesn't he? The man's a rogue!'
'Of course you won't find beer here,' said Merzlyakov, without looking up from The European Herald.
'Oh? You think not?' Lobytko persisted. 'Good Lord, you could drop me on the moon and I'd soon find you beer and women! I'll go out and find some now . . . Call me a scoundrel if I come back empty-handed!'
He spent a long time dressing and pulling on his large boots, then silently finished his cigarette and wenr out.
'Rabbek, Grabbek, Labbek,' he muttered, pausing in the outer passage. 'I don't feel like going on my own, damn it! Fancy a walk, eh, Ryabovich?'
Receiving no reply, he came back, slowly undressed and lay down. Merzlyakov sighed, pushed The European Herald to one side and put out the candle.
'Ye-s . . .' murmured Lobytko, lighting a cigarette in the darkness.
Ryabovich pulled the bedding over his head, curled up in a ball, and tried to gather the fleeting images together in his mind and make them into one. But nothing came of it. Soon he fell asleep, and his last thought was that someone had been kind to him and made him happy, that something unusual, absurd, but extremely good and full of joy, had taken place in his life. This thought did nor leave him even while he slept.
When he awoke, he no longer felt the oil on his neck or the chill of peppermint next to his lips, but the same joy welled up inside him as on the previous day. With a feeling of exultation he looked at the window-frames gilded by the rising sun and listened to the sounds of activity coming from the street. A noisy conversation was taking place right by the windows. Ryabovich's battery commander, Lebedetsky, had just caught up the brigade and was talking at the top of his voice - not being in the habit of talking softly - to his sergeant-major.