Uncle's dream; And The Permanent Husband Part 27

"Well?" he cried, "you are not a fantasy or a dream or anything of that kind, are you? You aren't a corpse, are you? Come, my friend, this is not a game or play. I want your explanation, please!"

The visitor fidgeted about a little, smiled, and began to speak cautiously.

"So far as I can see," he said, "the time of night of my visit is what surprises you, and that I should have come as I did; in fact, when I remember the past, and our intimacy, and all that, I am astonished myself; but the fact is, I did not mean to come in at all, and if I did so it was purely an accident."

"An accident! Why, I saw you creeping across the road on tip-toes!"

"You saw me? Indeed! Come, then you know as much or more about the matter than I do; but I see I am annoying you. This is how it was: I've been in town three weeks or so on business. I am Pavel Pavlovitch Trusotsky, you recognized me yourself, my business in town is to effect an exchange of departments. I am trying for a situation in another place-one with a large increase of salary; but all this is beside the point; the fact of the matter is, I believe I have been delaying my business on purpose. I believe if everything were settled at this moment I should still be dawdling in this St. Petersburg of yours in my present condition of mind.

I go wandering about as though I had lost all interest in things, and were rather glad of the fact, in my present condition of mind."

"What condition of mind?" asked Velchaninoff, frowning.

The visitor raised his eyes to Velchaninoff's, lifted his hat from the ground beside him, and with great dignity pointed out the black c.r.a.pe band.

"There, sir, in _that_ condition of mind!" he observed.

Velchaninoff stared stupidly at the c.r.a.pe, and thence at the man's face.

Suddenly his face flushed up in a hot blush for a moment, and he was violently agitated.

"Not Natalia Vasilievna, surely?"

"Yes, Natalia Vasilievna! Last March! Consumption, sir, and almost suddenly-all over in two or three months-and here am I left as you see me!"

So saying, Pavel Pavlovitch, with much show of feeling, bent his bald head down and kept it bent for some ten seconds, while he held out his two hands, in one of which was the hat with the band, in explanatory emotion.

This gesture, and the man's whole air, seemed to brighten Velchaninoff up; he smiled sarcastically for one instant, not more at present, for the news of this lady's death (he had known her so long ago, and had forgotten her many a year since) had made a quite unexpected impression upon his mind.

"Is it possible!" he muttered, using the first words that came to his lips, "and pray why did you not come here and tell me at once?"

"Thanks for your kind interest, I see and value it, in spite of--"

"In spite of what?"

"In spite of so many years of separation you at once sympathised with my sorrow-and in fact with myself, and so fully too-that I feel naturally grateful. That's all I had to tell you, sir! Don't suppose I doubt my friends, you know; why, even here, in this place, I could put my finger on several very sincere friends indeed (for instance, Stepan Michailovitch Bagantoff); but remember, my dear Aleksey Ivanovitch-nine years have pa.s.sed since we were acquaintances-or friends, if you'll allow me to say so-and meanwhile you have never been to see us, never written."

The guest sang all this out as though he were reading it from music, but kept his eyes fixed on the ground the while, although, of course, he saw what was going on above his eyelashes exceedingly well all the same.

Velchaninoff had found his head by this time.

With a strange sort of fascinated attention, which strengthened itself every moment, he continued to gaze at and listen to Pavel Pavlovitch, and of a sudden, when the latter stopped speaking, a flood of curious ideas swept unexpectedly through his brain.

"But look here," he cried, "how is it that I never recognized you all this while?-we've met five times, at least, in the streets!"

"Quite so-I am perfectly aware of the circ.u.mstance. You chanced to meet me two or three times, and--"

"No, no! _you_ met _me_, you know-not I you!" Velchaninoff suddenly burst into a roar of laughter, and rose from his seat. Pavel Pavlovitch paused a moment, looked keenly at Velchaninoff, and then continued:

"As to your not recognizing me, in the first place you might easily have forgotten me by now; and besides, I have had small-pox since last we met, and I daresay my face is a good deal marked."

"Smallpox? why, how did you manage that?-he has had it, though, by Jove!"

cried Velchaninoff. "What a funny fellow you are-however, go on, don't stop."

Velchaninoff's spirits were rising higher and higher; he was beginning to feel wonderfully light-hearted. That feeling of agitation which had lately so disturbed him had given place to quite a different sentiment. He now began to stride up and down the room, very quickly.

"I was going to say," resumed Pavel Pavlovitch, "that though I have met you several times, and though I quite intended to come and look you up, when I was arranging my visit to Petersburg, still, I was in that condition of mind, you know, and my wits have so suffered since last March, that--"

"Wits since last March,-yes, go on: wait a minute-do you smoke?"

"Oh-you know, Natalia Vasilievna, never-"

"Quite so; but since March-eh?"

"Well-I might, a cigarette or so."

"Here you are, then! Light up and go on,-go on! you interest me wonderfully."

Velchaninoff lit a cigar and sat down on his bed again. Pavel Pavlovitch paused a moment.

"But what a state of agitation you seem to be in yourself!" said he, "are you quite well?"

"Oh, curse my health!" cried Velchaninoff,-"you go on!"

The visitor observed his host's agitation with satisfaction; he went on with his share of the talking with more confidence.

"What am I to go on about?" he asked. "Imagine me, Alexey Ivanovitch-a broken man,-not simply broken, but gone at the root, as it were; a man forced to change his whole manner of living, after twenty years of married life, wandering about the dusty roads without an object,-mind lost-almost oblivious of his own self,-and yet, as it were, taking some sort of intoxicated delight in his loneliness! Isn't it natural that if I should, at such a moment of self-forgetfulness come across a friend-even a _dear_ friend, I might prefer to avoid him for that moment? and isn't it equally natural that at another moment I should long to see and speak with some one who has been an eye-witness of, or a partaker, so to speak, in my never-to-be-recalled past? and to rush-not only in the day, but at night, if it so happens,-to rush to the embrace of such a man?-yes, even if one has to wake him up at three in the morning to do it! I was wrong in my time, not in my estimate of my friend, though, for at this moment I feel the full rapture of success; my rash action has been successful: I have found sympathy! As for the time of night, I confess I thought it was not twelve yet! You see, one sups of grief, and it intoxicates one,-at least, not grief, exactly, it's more the condition of mind-the new state of things that affects me."

"Dear me, how oddly you express yourself!" said Velchaninoff, rising from his seat once more, and becoming quite serious again.

"Oddly, do I? Perhaps."

"Look here: are you joking?"

"Joking!" cried Pavel Pavlovitch, in shocked surprise; "_joking_-at the very moment when I am telling you of--"

"Oh-be quiet about that! for goodness sake."

Velchaninoff started off on his journey up and down the room again.

So matters stood for five minutes or so: the visitor seemed inclined to rise from his chair, but Velchaninoff bade him sit still, and Pavel Pavlovitch obediently flopped into his seat again.

"How changed you are!" said the host at last, stopping in front of the other chair, as though suddenly struck with the idea; "fearfully changed!"

"Wonderful! you're quite another man!"

"That's hardly surprising! _nine_ years, sir!"

"No, no, no! years have nothing to do with it! it's not in appearance you are so changed: it's something else!"

"Well, sir, the nine years might account for anything."