“A secular man cannot judge the bishops.”
“Why not, Deacon? A bishop is a man, just the same as I am.”
“The same but not the same,” the deacon said, taking offense, picking up his pen. “If it were the case that you’re the same, then grace would have been bestowed upon you and you would be a bishop yourself, but since it’s the case that you’re not a bishop then, it means you’re not the same.”
“Don’t you start, Deacon!” Samoylenko said with melancholy. “Listen, here’s what I’ve thought up,” turning his attention to Von Koren. “Do not give me the hundred rubles. You’re still going to eat at my table d’hote for the next three months until the winter, so why don’t you just pay me in advance for those three months.”
“I won’t.”
Samoylenko blinked his eyes and flushed crimson; mechanically he drew the book with the fanalgae on it to himself and looked at it, then rose to retrieve his hat. Von Koren began to pity him.
“Fine, if that’s the kind of gentleman you deign to have in your life and conduct business with!” said the zoologist, and in indignation kicked some piece of paper into the corner. “Just understand that this is not kindness, nor love, but cowardice, a lack of discipline, poison! What the intellect creates, your flaccid, good-for-nothing heart destroys! When I was ill with typhoid as a schoolboy, my auntie glutted me with marinated mushrooms out of compassion and I nearly died. Understand, right along with my auntie, that love for a person must be situated not in the heart, not at the end of a spoon and not in the loins, but right here!”
Von Koren smacked himself on the forehead.
“Take it!” he said, and threw the hundred-ruble note.
“There’s nothing for you to be angry about, Kolya,” Samoylenko meekly said, folding the note. “I understand you perfectly, but … try to put yourself in my predicament.”
“Woman, you’re old, how’s that!”
The deacon burst out laughing.
“Listen, Alexander Davidich, to a final request!” Von Koren hotly said. “When you give that scoundrel the money, attach a condition: have him leave with his mistress or have him send her on ahead, otherwise don’t give it to him. Don’t stand on ceremony with him. Tell him, just like that, and if you don’t tell him, then I give you my honest word, I’ll go to his office myself and throw him down the stairs, and I won’t associate with you any longer. Know this!”
“What? If he leaves with her or sends her ahead, it’ll be more convenient for him,” Samoylenko said. “He’ll even be happy. Come now, bid me farewell!”
He demonstratively bid farewell and exited, but, before closing the door behind him, he looked back at Von Koren, made a dreadful face and said:
“Brother, it’s the Germans that ruined you! Yes! The Germans!”
* The “superfluous man” who is the title character of Turgenev’s first novel.
XII
The following day, Thursday, Maria Konstantinovna celebrated the birthday of her Kostya. Everyone was invited over to eat pirog at midday and drink chocolate in the evening. When Laevsky and Nadezhda Fyodorovna arrived in the evening, the zoologist, already seated in the drawing room drinking chocolate, asked Samoylenko:
“Have you spoken to him?”
“Not yet.”
“Look here, don’t stand on ceremony. I don’t understand the insolence of these gentlepersons! You see, they know the opinion of this local family perfectly well regarding their cohabitation, and in the midst of it they worm their way in here.”
“If you focus on every prejudice,” Samoylenko pointed out, “you’ll never venture anywhere.”
“Is the disgust felt by the masses toward love out of wedlock and debauchery prejudice?”
“Of course. Prejudice and hatred. Soldiers will see a maiden of questionable character and immediately begin to hoot and holler, but why not ask them: who are they themselves?”
“They’re not whistling for no reason. That wenches suffocate their illegitimate infants, and then serve hard time, and that Anna Karenina threw herself beneath a train, and that in villages they smear tar onto picket fences, and that you and I, for whatever reason, like that Katya has a purity about her, and that everyone feels a nebulous yearning for pure love, all the while knowing that such love does not exist—is all of this truly prejudice? This, brother, is the only thing that has survived intact of natural selection and if it weren’t for this opaque force that governs relations between the sexes, the lady and mister Laevsky would show you the score, and humanity would degenerate within two years’ time.”
Laevsky entered the drawing room, greeted everyone, and, shaking Von Koren’s hand, smiled ingratiatingly. He waited for the right moment, then said to Samoylenko:
“Pardon me, Alexander Davidich, I need to have a couple of words with you.”
Samoylenko rose, led him by the waist, and both went into Nikodim Aleksandrich’s study.
“Tomorrow is Friday …” Laevsky said, gnawing on his fingernails. “Were you able to get what you promised?”
“I was only able to get two hundred ten. I’ll have the rest today or tomorrow. Rest assured.”
“Thank God!” Laevsky took a deep breath, and his hands began to jitter from joy. “You’re rescuing me, Alexander Davidich, and I swear to God before you, on my happiness or whatever you like, I will send the money to you the very hour of my arrival. And I’ll send the old debt as well.”
“Here’s the thing, Vanya …” Samoylenko said, taking him by the button and reddening. “You’ll forgive me that I’m mixing in your familial affairs, but … why don’t you leave together with Nadezhda Fyodorovna?”
“You odd fellow, how could that possible be? One of us must certainly stay behind, or else the creditors will be in an uproar. You see, I owe around seven hundred rubles to the shops, if not more. Wait, in a little while, I’ll send them money, shove it between their teeth, then she’ll leave this place too.”
“All right … But then why don’t you send her ahead of you?”
“Oh … my God, how could that even be possible?” Laevsky recoiled. “You see, she’s a woman, what would she do there alone? What does she understand? It would be nothing more than a waste of time and an extra expense.”
Well reasoned …, Samoylenko thought, but, remembering his conversation with Von Koren, cast down his eyes and said sullenly:
“I can’t agree with you. Either travel together with her or send her ahead, but otherwise … otherwise, I won’t give you the money. This is my final word …”
He retreated, cringing, his back slammed against the door, and he exited out into the drawing room red, in a state of frightful embarrassment.
Friday … Friday …, Laevsky thought, returning to the drawing room. Friday …
He was served a cup of chocolate. He burned his lips and tongue on the hot chocolate and thought:
Friday … Friday …
For some reason the word “Friday” would not leave his head; there was nothing besides Friday that he could think of, and it was evident to him, not in his head but somewhere below his heart, that he would not be leaving on Saturday. Nikodim Aleksandrich stood before him, carefully kempt, with hair swept up at the temples and asked:
“Eat something, I humbly request that you do …”
Maria Konstantinovna was showing the guests Katya’s grades while protractedly saying:
“It’s horrible now, horribly difficult to study! They demand so much …”
“Mama!” moaned Katya, not knowing where to hide from the embarrassment and praise.