Realizing that he was angry, she looked straight at him, her eyes still full of laughter.
'You know what, Zhenechka?' said Viktor. 'You can go to hell!'
Just then Nadya came in. Still in the hall, she asked quickly: 'Has Papa gone off to repent?'
She came into the room. Viktor hugged her and gave her a kiss.
Yevgenia looked her up and down; her eyes were quite moist.
'Well,' she said, 'there isn't a single drop of Slav blood in you. You're a true Hebrew maiden.'
'Papa's genes,' said Nadya.
'You know, Nadya, I've a weakness for you,' said Yevgenia. 'Like Grandmama has for Seryozha.'
'Don't worry, Papa, we won't let you die of hunger,' said Nadya.
'What do you mean - we} You and your lieutenant?' said Viktor. 'And don't forget to wash your hands when you come back from school.'
'Who's Mama talking to?'
'Marya Ivanovna.'
'Do you like Marya Ivanovna?' asked Yevgenia.
'I think she's the best person in the whole world,' said Nadya. 'I'd like to marry her.'
'Very kind, quite angelic?' asked Yevgenia in the same mocking tone.
'Don't you like her, Aunt Zhenya?'
'I don't like saints. There's usually some kind of hysteria underneath,' said Yevgenia. 'I'd rather have an outright bitch.'
'Hysteria?' repeated Viktor.
'I was just talking in general, Viktor. I don't mean her in particular.'
Nadya went out to the kitchen. Yevgenia said to Viktor: 'Vera had a lieutenant when I was in Stalingrad. And now Nadya's got one too. Here today and gone tomorrow. They die so easily, Viktor. It's so sad.'
'Zhenechka, Zhenevyeva, do you really not like Marya Ivanovna?'
'I don't know,' she said hurriedly. 'Some women seem so accommodating, so ready to sacrifice themselves. They never say, "I'm going to bed with this man because I want to." Instead they say, "It's my duty, I pity him, I'm sacrificing myself for him." It's of her own free will that a woman like that goes to bed with a man, lives with him, or decides to leave him. But the way she explains it is very different: "I had to, it was my duty, I acted according to my conscience, I made a sacrifice, I renounced him…" And she hasn't made any sacrifice at all – she's done just as she pleased. The worst of it is that she sincerely believes in this willingness of hers to make sacrifices. I can't stand women like that. And do you know why…? Because I sometimes think I'm like that myself.'
While they were eating, Marya Ivanovna said to Yevgenia:
'Let me go with you, Yevgenia Nikolaevna. I have, sadly, got some experience of these matters. And it's always easier with someone else.'
Yevgenia looked very embarrassed.
'No, no,' she said, 'but thank you very much. There are things one has to do on one's own, burdens one can never share.'
Lyudmila looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye. As though to prove that she and Marya Ivanovna had no secrets from one another, she said: 'Mashenka's got it into her head that you don't like her.'
Yevgenia didn't answer.
'Yes,' said Marya Ivanovna, 'I can feel it. But you must forgive me for saying that. It's stupid of me. What does it matter to you, anyway? Lyudmila should have kept quiet. Now it looks as though I'm forcing myself on you, trying to make you change your mind. Really I just said it without thinking. And anyway…'
To her surprise, Yevgenia found herself saying quite sincerely:
'No, my dear. No. It's just that I'm very upset. Please forgive me. You're very kind.'
Then she got up and said: 'Now, my children – as Mama used to say – it's time.'
26
There were a lot of people on the street.
'Are you in a hurry?' Viktor asked Marya Ivanovna. 'We could go to the park again.'
'But people are already coming home from work. I must be back before Pyotr Lavrentyevich.'
Viktor was expecting her to ask him round. Then Sokolov could tell him about the meeting. But she didn't say anything. He began to wonder if Sokolov was afraid to meet him.
He felt hurt that Marya Ivanovna was in such a hurry. But of course it was only natural. They passed a little square not far from the road leading to the Donskoy Monastery. Suddenly Marya Ivanovna stopped and said: 'Let's sit down for a minute. Then I can get the trolleybus.'
They sat there in silence. Viktor could sense that she was very troubled. Her head slightly bent, she looked straight into his eyes.
They remained silent. Her lips were tightly closed, but he seemed able to hear her voice. Everything was quite clear – as though it had already been said. What difference could words make?
Viktor knew that something very serious was happening, that a new imprint lay on his life, that he was entering a time of deep and painful confusion. He didn't want to make anyone suffer. It would be better if no one knew of their love; perhaps they shouldn't talk of it even to one another. Or perhaps… But they couldn't conceal what was happening now, they couldn't hide their present joy and sorrow – and this alone would have deep and inevitable consequences. What was happening depended only on them, but it seemed like a fate they were powerless to oppose. What lay between them was true and natural, they were no more responsible for it than a man is responsible for the light of day – and yet this truth inevitably engendered insincerity, deceit and cruelty towards those dearest to them. It was in their power to avoid deceit and cruelty; all they had to do was renounce this clear and natural light.
One thing was plain: he had lost his peace of mind for ever. Whatever happened, he would never know peace. Whether he hid his love for the woman beside him or whether it became his destiny, he would not know peace. Whether he was with her, feeling guilty, or whether he was apart from her, aching for her, he would have no peace.
She was still staring at him. Viktor found her look of mingled happiness and despair almost unbearable.
He hadn't given in, he had stood firm against a vast and merciless force – but how weak, how helpless he felt now…
'Viktor Pavlovich,' she said. 'It's time for me to go. Pyotr Lavrentyevich will be waiting.'
She took him by the hand. 'We won't be able to see each other any more. I gave Pyotr Lavrentyevich my word not to see you.'
Viktor felt like someone dying of a heart attack. His heart, whose beating had never depended on his will, was stopping; the universe was swaying, turning upside down; the air and the earth were disappearing.
'But why, Marya Ivanovna?'
'Pyotr Lavrentyevich made me promise to stop seeing you. I gave him my word. I know that's terrible, but he's in such a state, he's quite ill, I'm afraid he might die.'
'Masha,' said Viktor.
There was an invincible power in her voice and her face – the same power that he had been struggling against everywhere.
'Masha,' he repeated.
'Dear God, you can see everything, you understand all too well.
I'm not hiding anything – but why talk about it all? I can't, I just can't. Pyotr Lavrentyevich has been through so much. You know that yourself. And think of Lyudmila's sufferings. It's impossible.'
'Yes, yes, we have no right,' said Viktor.
'My dearest, my unhappy friend, my light,' said Marya Ivanovna.
Viktor's hat fell to the ground. People were probably looking at them.
'Yes, yes, we have no right,' he repeated.
He kissed her hands. As he held her small cold fingers, he felt that the unshakeable strength of her resolve went hand in hand with weakness, submissiveness, helplessness…
She got up from the bench and walked away without looking back. He sat there, thinking that for the first time in his life he had seen happiness, light – and now it had left him. This woman whose fingers he had just kissed could have replaced everything he had ever wanted, everything he had dreamed of – science, fame, the joy of recognition…
27
The following day Savostyanov phoned Viktor and asked after his and Lyudmila's health.