‘No, my dear friend,’ she continued after a brief pause, and taking one of her two handkerchiefs to wipe away a tear which had showed itself, ‘I often think that he is incapable either of appreciating or understanding her, and that, for all her goodness, her affection for him and her endeavour to conceal her grief (which I know very well exists) – she cannot be happy with him; and mark my words, if he does not…’

Grandmamma covered her face with her handkerchief.

‘Come, ma bonne amie,’ said the prince reproachfully, ‘I see you haven’t grown one scrap more sensible – you are always distressing yourself and weeping over imaginary sorrows. Fie, for shame! I have known him for along time and I am sure he is an attentive, kindly and excellent husband, as well as (which is the chief thing of all) a most honourable man, un parfait honnête homme.’1

Having involuntarily overheard a conversation I was not meant to hear, I tiptoed out of the room in a fine state of excitement.

19 • THE IVINS

‘Volodya, Volodya! The Ivins are here!’ I cried, seeing through the window three boys in blue overcoats with beaver collars crossing to our house from the opposite pavement behind their smart young tutor.

The Ivins were relations of ours and almost the same age as we were, and soon after our arrival in Moscow we had made their acquaintance and become friends.

The second Ivin, Seriozha, had dark curly hair, a firm turned-up little nose, very fresh red lips which seldom entirely closed over his rather prominent upper white teeth, fine dark blue eyes and an uncommonly lively face. He never smiled but either looked perfectly serious or laughed outright a ringing clear and extraordinarily captivating laugh. His unusual beauty struck me at first sight. I felt irresistibly attracted to him. To see him was sufficient to make me happy, and at the time my whole soul was concentrated on that one desire. Should three or four days go by without my seeing him I began to fret and was miserable enough to shed tears. All my dreams, waking or sleeping, were of him: when I went to bed I willed myself to dream of him; shutting my eyes I saw him before me and hugged the vision to me as my choicest delight. To no one in the world could I have brought myself to confess this feeling, so precious was it to me. Perhaps because he was sick of having my anxious eyes constantly fixed upon him, or simply because he felt no liking for me, he evidently preferred to play and talk with Volodya rather than with me; but for all that I was quite content, wished for nothing, demanded nothing and was ready to make any sacrifice for him. Besides the passionate fascination he exercised upon me his presence inspired another feeling in a no less powerful degree – a dread of upsetting, offending or displeasing him in any way. Was it because his face wore such a haughty expression or because, despising my own looks, I valued beauty too highly in others, or, most probably of all, because awe is an infallible sign of affection, that I feared him as much as I loved him? The first time Seriozha spoke to me I was so taken aback by such unexpected happiness that I turned pale, then blushed, and could not answer him. He had a bad habit of fixing his eyes on one spot when he was pondering something, and continually blinking while twitching his nose and eyebrows. Everybody thought that this habit greatly spoiled his looks but I found it so attractive that I involuntarily began to do the same thing until a few days after we had got to know him grandmamma asked me whether my eyes were hurting me, since I was blinking like an owl. No word of affection ever passed between us; but he sensed his power over me and in our childish dealings with one another used it unconsciously but tyrannically; as for me, much as I longed to bare my soul to him, I was too afraid of him to venture to be frank: I tried to appear indifferent, and submitted to his will without a murmur. At times his influence seemed to me oppressive and intolerable but I could not cast it off.

It makes me sad to remember that fresh beautiful feeling of disinterested boundless affection which died away without ever finding vent or being reciprocated.

How strange it is that when I was a child I tried to be like a grown-up, yet as soon as I ceased to be a child I often longed to be like one. Again and again in my relations with Seriozha this desire – not to behave like a child – stopped me from pouring out my feelings and forced me to dissimulate. Not only did I never dare kiss him as I often longed to, or take his hand and tell him how glad I was to see him, but I never even dared to call him by his pet name, Seriozha, but always kept to Sergei, as everyone else did in our house. Any expression of sentiment was regarded as proof of babyishness, and any one who permitted himself anything of the sort was still a little boy. Ignorant still of the bitter experiences which cause grown-up people to be cautious and cold in their relations with one another, we deprived ourselves of the pure joys of a tender attachment between children merely from a strange desire to resemble grown-ups.

I met the Ivins in the hall, exchanged greetings with them and rushed headlong to grandmamma and in a tone suggesting that the news must make her completely happy announced that the Ivins had come. Then without taking my eyes off Seriozha I followed him into the drawing-room, watching his every movement. When grandmamma said that he had grown a great deal, and fixed her penetrating gaze on him, I experienced the same sensation of fear and hope which an artist must feel when waiting for a revered critic’s opinion of his work.

The Ivins’ young tutor, Herr Frost, with grandmamma’s permission went out into the garden with us, seated himself on a green bench, gracefully crossed his legs, placed his bronze-headed cane between them and lit a cigar with the air of one highly satisfied with what he is doing.

Herr Frost was a German but a German of quite a different type from our good Karl Ivanych. In the first place he spoke Russian correctly and French with a bad accent, and generally enjoyed, especially among the ladies, the reputation of being a very learned man. Secondly, he had red moustaches, wore a large ruby pin in his black satin cravat, the ends of which were tucked under his braces, and trousers of light blue shot material, with straps. Thirdly, he was young, had a handsome self-satisfied appearance and unusually fine muscular legs. It was evident that he particularly prized this last superiority and considered its effect irresistible to every female, and no doubt for this reason he always tried to place his legs in the most conspicuous position and whether standing or sitting always twitched his calves. He was a typical young Russo-German who aspires to be a gay fellow and a lady-killer.

We had great fun in the garden. Our game of ‘robbers’ never went better; but an incident occurred that nearly put a stop to it completely. Seriozha was the robber and while pursuing the travellers at full tilt he stumbled and struck his knee so violently against a tree that I thought he must have shivered it to splinters. Though I was the gendarme and it was my duty to catch him I went up to him and began to ask with concern if he were hurt.