Novels, Tales, Journeys

You are mistaken, dear Liza. To humble your amour-propre, I announce that R. does not notice your absence at all. He has attached himself to Lady Pelham, a newly arrived Englishwoman, and never leaves her side. To his conversation she responds with a look of innocent amazement and a little “Oho!”…and he is in raptures. Know, then, that it is your constant admirateur Vladimir * * * who has asked me about you and who regrets your absence with all his heart. Are you pleased? I think you are very pleased, and, as is my wont, I venture to assume that you guessed it even without me. Joking aside, * * * is very taken with you. If I were you, I would lead him a long way. After all, he’s an excellent suitor…Why not marry him? You would live on the English Embankment,5 have soirées on Saturdays, and stop by my place every morning. Enough foolishness, my angel; come back to us and marry * * *.

Two days ago there was a ball at the K.’s. No end of people. We danced until five in the morning. K. V. was dressed very simply; a white little crêpe dress, not even any trimmings, and on her head and neck half a million’s worth of diamonds: that’s all! Z., as is her wont, was dressed killingly. Where does she get her outfits? Her dress had, not flowers, but some sort of dried mushrooms sewn on it. Was it you, my angel, who sent them to her from the country? Vladimir * * * did not dance. He is going on leave. The S.s came (probably the first), sat all night without dancing, and left last. The older one seemed to be wearing rouge—about time…The ball was very successful. The men were displeased with the supper, but then they always have to be displeased with something. I had a merry time, even though I danced the cotillon with the insufferable diplomat St., who added to his natural stupidity an absentmindedness he imported from Madrid.

I thank you, dear heart, for your report on Richardson. Now I have some idea of him. With my impatience, there is no hope of my ever reading him; I even find superfluous pages in Walter Scott.

By the way, I think the romance between Elena N. and Count L. is ending—at any rate he’s so downcast and she’s so puffed up that the wedding has probably been decided on. Farewell, my lovely; are you pleased with my babble for today?

5. LIZA TO SASHA

No, my dear matchmaker, I have no thought of leaving the country and coming to you for my wedding. I frankly confess that I liked Vladimir * * *, but I never contemplated marrying him. He is an aristocrat, and I am a humble democrat. I hasten to explain and point out proudly, like a true heroine of a novel, that by birth I belong to the oldest Russian nobility, and that my knight is the grandson of a bearded merchant millionaire. But you know what our aristocracy means. Be that as it may, * * * is a man of the world; he might like me, but he would never sacrifice a rich bride and a profitable alliance for my sake. If I am ever to marry, I will choose some local forty-year-old landowner. He will busy himself with his sugar works, I with the household—and I will be happy without dancing at Count K.’s ball and having Saturdays at my place on the English Embankment.

It’s winter here: in the country c’est un événement.^*2 It changes your way of life completely. Solitary walks cease, little bells jingle, hunters go out with their dogs—everything becomes brighter, more cheerful with the first snow. I never expected it. Winter in the country frightened me. But everything in the world has its good side.