Novels, Tales, Journeys

Alexei liked Liza more and more every moment. Unaccustomed to any formalities in dealing with pretty village girls, he was about to embrace her, but Liza jumped away from him and adopted such a stern and cold look that, while Alexei nearly laughed, he refrained from further attempts.

“If you want us to be friends in the future,” she said with dignity, “kindly do not forget yourself.”

“Who taught you such great wisdom?” Alexei asked, bursting into laughter. “Was it my acquaintance, Nastenka, your mistress’s maid? See by what paths enlightenment spreads!”

Liza felt she had stepped out of her role, and put things right at once.

“And what are you thinking?” she said. “As if I’ve never set foot in the master’s yard? Don’t worry, I’ve heard and seen all kinds of things. Anyhow,” she went on, “if I chatter with you, I won’t gather any mushrooms. You go this way, master, and I’ll go that. Begging your pardon…”

Liza was about to leave, but Alexei caught her by the hand.

“What’s your name, dear heart?”

“Akulina,” Liza replied, trying to free her fingers from Alexei’s grip. “Do let me go, sir; it’s time I went home.”

“Well, Akulina, my friend, I’ll be sure to visit your father, the blacksmith Vassily.”

“Oh, no,” Liza objected quickly, “for Christ’s sake, don’t go there. If they find out at home that I was chatting with a squire alone in the wood, it’ll be bad for me: my father, the blacksmith Vassily, will beat me to death.”

“But I want to be sure I’ll see you again.”

“Well, I’ll come here again some time gathering mushrooms.”

“When?”

“Oh, tomorrow, say.”

“Dear Akulina, I’d kiss you, but I don’t dare. So, tomorrow, at the same time, is that right?”

“Yes, yes.”

“And you won’t deceive me?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Swear to God?”

“Well, so I swear to you by Saint Friday, I’ll come.”7

The young people parted. Liza emerged from the wood, crossed the fields, stole into the garden, and rushed headlong to the barn, where Nastya was waiting for her. There she changed, absentmindedly answering her impatient confidante’s questions, and presented herself in the drawing room. The table was laid, breakfast was ready, and Miss Jackson, already whitened and laced in like a wineglass, was cutting thin slices of bread. Her father praised her for her early walk.

“There’s nothing healthier than getting up at dawn,” he said.

Here he cited several examples of human longevity, drawn from English magazines, noting that all people who lived to be over a hundred abstained from drink and arose at dawn both winter and summer. Liza did not listen to him. In her thoughts she went over all the circumstances of the morning’s meeting, the whole conversation of Akulina and the young hunter, and her conscience began to torment her. In vain did she object to herself that their talk had not gone beyond the limits of propriety, that this prank could not have any consequences—her conscience murmured louder than her reason. The promise she had given for the next day troubled her most of all: she very nearly decided not to keep her solemn oath. But Alexei, having waited for her in vain, might go looking in the village for the daughter of the blacksmith Vassily, the real Akulina, a fat, pockmarked wench, and thus figure out her light-minded prank. This thought frightened Liza, and she decided to go to the wood again the next morning as Akulina.

For his part, Alexei was delighted; all day he thought about his new acquaintance; during the night the image of the swarthy beauty haunted his imagination even in sleep. Dawn had barely broken when he was already dressed. Giving himself no time to load his gun, he went out to the fields with his faithful Sbogar and ran to the place of the promised meeting. Around half an hour passed in unbearable expectation; at last he glimpsed the blue sarafan flashing amidst the bushes, and he rushed to meet dear Akulina. She smiled at his rapturous gratitude; but Alexei at once noticed traces of dismay and uneasiness on her face. He wanted to know the reason for it. Liza confessed that her conduct seemed light-minded to her, that she regretted it, that she had not wanted to break the word she had given this once, but that this meeting would be the last, and she asked him to end their acquaintance, which could not lead them to any good. This was all said, of course, in peasant parlance; but the thoughts and feelings, unusual in a simple girl, struck Alexei. He used all his eloquence to talk Akulina out of her intention; assured her of the innocence of his desires, promised never to give her any cause for regret, to obey her in all things, implored her not to deprive him of one delight: of seeing her alone, if only every other day, or at least twice a week. He spoke the language of true passion and in that moment was indeed in love. Liza listened to him silently.