barouche rolled on its way ...
'Everything I'm dreaming about now and which seems so imposs- ible and unreal, is in fact very commonplace,' thought Ryabovich, watching the clouds ofdust raceafter theGeneral's barouche. 'It's all very ordinary and is experienced by everyone . .. That General, for instance, fell in love once and now he's married and has children. CaptainVakhter also has a wift nnd is loved,eventhough the back of his neck is so red and ugly, and he has no hips either ... Salmanov has coarse features and there's too much Tartar in him, but he had an affair and it ended in marriage . .. I'm just like everyone else and sooner or later I shall have the sameexperiences aseveryoneelse ...'
And the thought of being an ordinary person and leading an ordinary life cheered him and encouraged him. He pictured her and his happiness boldly now, as he had wished, and let nothingstand in the way of his imagination . ..
When the brigade reached its destination that evening and the officers were resting in their tents, Ryabovich, Merzlyakov and Lobytko were sitting round a box having supper. Merzlyakov ate unhurriedly, chewing slowly and reading his copy of The European Herald, which he held on his knees. Lobytko talked incessantly and kept topping up his glass with beer, while Ryabovich, dazed from dreaming all day long, drank and said nothing. After three glasses the beer went to his head, he relaxed, and felt an irresistible urge to tell his comrades about his new experience.
'A strange thing happened to me at those Rabbeks .. .' he began, trying to make his voice sound detached and ironical. 'It was like this: I went along to the billiard-room ...'
He started to relate the incident of the kiss in great detail and a minute later fell silent . .. In that minute he had told it all and was quite amazed to find that the story had taken such a short time. He had thought he could go on talking about the kiss all night. After listening to him, Lobytko, who was a great liar and therefore never believed anyone, eyed him sceptically and sniggered. Merzlyakov raised his eyebrows and said calmly, without looking up from The European Herald:
'Very odd! Throws herself on your neck without warning . .. Must have been some kind of a case.'
'Yes, I suppose so . ..' Ryabovich agreed.
'A similar thing happened to me once,' said Lobytko, looking wide eyed. 'I was travelling last year to Kovno ... I'd bought a second-class tickct . . . The carriagc was packed tight, there wasn't a hopc of getting any sleep, so I gave thc guard half a rouble and he wok mc and my luggage along to a sleepmg compartmcnt ... I lay down .ind pulled the blankct over me ... lt was dark, you undcr- stand. Suddcnly I feel someonc toiich me on thc shouldcr and breathe m my facc. I made a movcment like this with my hand and felt somcone's clbow ... I open my eyes and - would you believe it?-a woman! Black eycs, lips the colour of frcsh salmon, nostrils flaring with passion, breasts like buffcrs -'
'One momcnt,' Merzlyakov interrupted calmly, 'I understand the bit about the breasts, but how could you see her lips if it was dark?'
Lobytko began trymg to wriggle out of it and laughing at Merz- lyakov's lack of imagination. This was too much for Ryabovich. He got up from the box, lay down on his bed and vowed never to confide m anyone agam.
Camp routine set in ... The days flowed past, one very much like the next. All this long time Ryabovich feh, thought and behaved like a man in love. Every morning, whcn the batman handed him his water for washing, he would pour the cold water over his head and remember on each occasion that there was something warm and precious in his life.
In the evenings, when his comrades began talking about love and women, he would listen in, move up closer, and assume the kind of expression that appears on soldiers' faces when they are listening to a tale of a battle in which they themselves took part. And on evenings when the officers had too much to drink and carried out Don Juan-like raids on the 'suburb' with Lobytko the setter at their head, Ryabovich was always sad after taking part, felt deeply guilty and inwardly begged her forgiveness . . . In hours of idleness or during sleepless nights, when he felt a desire to recall his childhood, his father and mother, in fact everything near and dear to him, he never failed to think of Mestechki too, the strange horse, Rabbek, Rab- bek's wife who looked like the Empress Eugenic, the dark room, the bright chink in the door • ..
On the 31st of August he set off from camp on the return journey, not with the whole brigade, but with two batteries. All the way he was excited and preoccupied with his dreams, as if returning to his birthplace. He longed passionately to see the strange horse again, the church, the artificial Rabbek family, the dark room; that 'inner voice' which so often deceives lovers whispered to him for some reason that he was bound to see her . .. And questions tormented him. How would he greet her? What would he talk to her about? Would she have forgotten about the kiss? If the worst came to the worst, he thought, and their paths did not even cross, it would be pleasant for him simply to walk through the dark room and remember . . .
Towards evening the familiar church and white granaries appeared on the horizon. Ryabovich's heartbeat quickened . . . He did not hear anything the officer riding beside him said, was oblivi- ous to everything, and fastened his eyes avidly on the river gleaming in the distance, the roof of the big house and the dovecote around which doves were wheeling, catching the light of the setting sun.
When they reached the church and were receiving their billeting instructions, he expected every second to see the rider appear from behind the church wall and invite the officers to tea ... but the billeting orders were over, the officers had dismounted and wan- dered off into the village, and still there was no rider . . .
'Rabbek will soon be told by the peasants that we've arrived and will send for us,' Ryabovich thought as he went into the hut, and could not understand why his companion was lighting a candle and the batmen were hastening to put the samovars on ...
A deep anxiety came over him. He lay down, then got up and looked out of the window. Was the rider coming? No, there was no rider. He lay down again, got up half an hour later, and, unable to endure his state of anxiety any longer, went out into the street and strode along to the church. By the church wall in the square it was dark and deserted . . . Three soldiers were standing in silence next to one another right at the top of the slope. They gave a start when they saw Ryabovich and saluted. He saluted back and began to descend the familiar footpath.
On the far bank the whole sky was bathed in crimson: the moon was rising; two peasant women were talking loudly to each other as they moved across a vegetable plot picking cabbage leaves; beyond the vegetable plots a dark group ofpeasant huts could be seen . . .But on the near bank it was all just as it had been in May: the footpath, the bushes, the willow trees overhanging the water ... only there was no intrepid nightingale singing, and no scent of poplar and young grass.
Ryabovich reached the gate and looked into the garden. It was dark and quiet there . .. He could make out nothing but the white trunks of the nearest birrh trecs and a small strip of pathway; everything else mcrgcd into one bla<:k mass. Ryabovi<:h listened and looked, straining every ncrve, but when hc had stood therc for about a quarter of an hour wuhout sccing a light or he.iring a sound, hc began to wander ba<:k . . .
Hc went down to thc river. Ahead hc could make out the whitcncss of thc Gencral's bathing-housc and the whitc forms of some sheets hanging over the rail of a little bridge . . . He went up onto thc bridge, stood thcre a while and for no good reason felt one of thc shects. It was rough and cold. He glanced down at the watcr . . . The river was flowing swiftly, g;.rgling very faintly round the supports of the bathing-house. The red moon was reflected dose by the left bank; littlc wavcs ran through the reflcwon, strctching it out, breakmg it into pieces and apparently intcnt on carrying it away . . .