I meant to tell you everything. And yet I said nothing. I don't feel like doing it. My heart sank. You are breathing upon me so strangely. Eh, I should not have seen you! What are you to me? It would be better for me to go away, it seems.""Wait, dearest, don't go away!" said the woman, hastily, holding out her hand to him. "Why so severe? Do not be angry at me! What am I to you? You need a different friend, a woman just as simple-minded and sound-souled as you are. She must be gay, healthy. I--Iam already an old woman. I am forever worrying. My life is so empty and so weary, so empty! Do you know, when a person has grown accustomed to live merrily, and then cannot be merry, he feels bad!
He desires to live cheerfully, he desires to laugh, yet he does not laugh--it is life that is laughing at him. And as to men. Listen!
Like a mother, I advise you, I beg and implore you--obey no one except your own heart! Live in accordance with its promptings. Men know nothing, they cannot tell you anything that is true. Do not heed them."Trying to speak as plainly and intelligibly as possible, she was agitated, and her words came incoherently hurriedly one after another. A pitiful smile played on her lips all the time, and her face was not beautiful.
"Life is very strict. It wants all people to submit to its requests, and only the very strong ones can resist it with impunity. It is yet questionable whether they can do it! Oh, if you knew how hard it is to live. Man goes so far that he begins to fear his own self. He is split into judge and criminal--he judges his own self and seeks justification before himself. And he is willing to pass days and nights with those that despise him, and that are repulsive to him--just to avoid being alone with himself."Foma lifted his head and said distrustfully, with surprise:
"I cannot understand what it is! Lubov also says the same.""Which Lubov? What does she say?"
"My foster-sister. She says the same,--she is forever complaining of life. It is impossible to live, she says.""Oh, she is yet young! And it is a great happiness that she already speaks of this.""Happiness!" Foma drawled out mockingly. "It must be a fine happiness that makes people sigh and complain.""You'd better listen to complaints. There is always much wisdom in these complaints of men. Oh! There is more wisdom in these complaints than anywhere else. You listen to these,--they will teach you to find your way."Foma heard the woman's voice, which sounded convincing; and perplexed, looked about him. Everything had long been familiar to him, but today it looked somewhat new to him. A mass of trifles filled the room, all the walls were covered with pictures and shelves, bright and beautiful objects were staring from every corner. The reddish light of the lamp filled one with melancholy.
Twilight wrapped everything in the room, and only here and there the gold of the frames, or the white spots of marble flashed dimly.
Heavy fabrics were motionlessly hanging before the doors. All this embarrassed and almost choked Foma; he felt as though he had lost his way. He was sorry for the woman. But she also irritated him.
"Do you hear how I speak to you? I wish I were your mother, or your sister. Never before did anybody awaken in me so warm and kindred a feeling as you have done. And you, you look at me in such an unfriendly way. Do you believe me? Yes? No?"He looked at her and said with a sigh:
"I don't know. I used to believe you."
"And now?" she asked hastily.
"And now--it is best for me to go! I don't understand anything, and yet I long to understand. I do not even understand myself. On my way to you I knew what to say, and here all is confused. You have put me up on the rack, you have set me on edge. And then you tell me--'I am as a mother to you'--which means--begone!""Understand me, I feel sorry for you!" the woman exclaimed softly.
Foma's irritation against her was growing stronger and stronger, and as he went on speaking to her, his words became absurd. While he spoke, he kept on moving his shoulders as though tearing something that entangled him.
"Sorry? What for? I do not need it. Eh, I cannot speak well! It is bad to be dumb. But--I would have told you! You did not treat me properly--indeed, why have you so enticed a man? Am I a plaything for you?""I only wanted to see you by my side," said the woman simply, in a guilty voice.
He did not hear these words.
"And when it came to the point, you were frightened and you shut yourself off from me. You began to repent. Ha, ha! Life is bad! And why are you always complaining of some life? What life? Man is life, and except man there is no life. You have invented some other monster. You have done this to deceive the eye, to justify yourself. You do some mischief, you lose yourself in different inventions and foolishnesses and then you sigh! Ah, life! Oh, life!
And have you not done it yourself? And covering yourself with complaints, you confuse others. You have lost your way, very well, but why do you want to lead me astray? Is it wickedness that speaks in you: 'I feel bad,' you say, 'let him also feel bad--there, I'll besprinkle his heart with my poisonous tears!' Isn't that so? Eh!
God has given you the beauty of an angel, but your heart--where is it?"Standing before her, he trembled in every limb, and examined her from head to foot with reproachful looks. Now his words came freely from his heart, he spoke not loud, but with power and pleasure. Her head raised, the woman stared into his face, with wide-open eyes.
Her lips were trembling and deep wrinkles appeared at the corners of her mouth.
"A beautiful person should lead a good life. While of you they say things." Foma's voice broke down; he raised his hand and concluded in a dull voice:
"Goodbye!"
"Goodbye!" said Medinskaya, softly.
