Complete Works of Anton Chekhov

The young people remained in this situation until the end of August when the day at last came on which Lapkin proposed for Anna’s hand. Oh, what a joyful day it was! No sooner had he spoken with his sweetheart’s parents and obtained their consent to his suit, than Lapkin rushed into the garden in search of Kolia. He nearly wept with exultation on finding him, and caught the wicked boy by the ear. Anna came running up, too, looking for Kolia, and seized him by the other ear. The pleasure depicted on the faces of the lovers when Kolia wept and begged for mercy was well worth seeing.

“Dear, good, sweet angels, I won’t do it again! Ouch, ouch! Forgive me!” Kolia implored them.

They confessed afterward that during all their courtship they had never once experienced such bliss, such thrilling rapture, as they did during those few moments when they were pulling the ears of that wicked boy.

A LIVING CHATTEL

Translated by Constance Garnett 1882-1885

GROHOLSKY embraced Liza, kept kissing one after another all her little fingers with their bitten pink nails, and laid her on the couch covered with cheap velvet. Liza crossed one foot over the other, clasped her hands behind her head, and lay down.

Groholsky sat down in a chair beside her and bent over. He was entirely absorbed in contemplation of her.

How pretty she seemed to him, lighted up by the rays of the setting sun!

There was a complete view from the window of the setting sun, golden, lightly flecked with purple.

The whole drawing-room, including Liza, was bathed by it with brilliant light that did not hurt the eyes, and for a little while covered with gold.

Groholsky was lost in admiration. Liza was so incredibly beautiful. It is true her little kittenish face with its brown eyes, and turn up nose was fresh, and even piquant, his scanty hair was black as soot and curly, her little figure was graceful, well proportioned and mobile as the body of an electric eel, but on the whole.... However my taste has nothing to do with it. Groholsky who was spoilt by women, and who had been in love and out of love hundreds of times in his life, saw her as a beauty. He loved her, and blind love finds ideal beauty everywhere.

“I say,” he said, looking straight into her eyes, “I have come to talk to you, my precious. Love cannot bear anything vague or indefinite.... Indefinite relations, you know, I told you yesterday, Liza... we will try to-day to settle the question we raised yesterday. Come, let us decide together. . . .”

What are we to do?”

Liza gave a yawn and scowling, drew her right arm from under her head.

“What are we to do?” she repeated hardly audibly after Groholsky.

“Well, yes, what are we to do? Come, decide, wise little head... I love you, and a man in love is not fond of sharing. He is more than an egoist. It is too much for me to go shares with your husband. I mentally tear him to pieces, when I remember that he loves you too. In the second place you love me.... Perfect freedom is an essential condition for love.... And are you free? Are you not tortured by the thought that that man towers for ever over your soul? A man whom you do not love, whom very likely and quite naturally, you hate.... That’s the second thing.... And thirdly.... What is the third thing? Oh yes.... We are deceiving him and that... is dishonourable. Truth before everything, Liza. Let us have done with lying!”

“Well, then, what are we to do?”

“You can guess.... I think it necessary, obligatory, to inform him of our relations and to leave him, to begin to live in freedom. Both must be done as quickly as possible.... This very evening, for instance.... It’s time to make an end of it. Surely you must be sick of loving like a thief?”

“Tell! tell Vanya?”

“Why, yes!”

“That’s impossible! I told you yesterday, Michel, that it is impossible.”

“Why?”

“He will be upset. He’ll make a row, do all sorts of unpleasant things.... Don’t you know what he is like? God forbid! There’s no need to tell him. What an idea!”

Groholsky passed his hand over his brow, and heaved a sigh.

“Yes,” he said, “he will be more than upset. I am robbing him of his happiness. Does he love you?”

“He does love me. Very much.”

“There’s another complication! One does not know where to begin. To conceal it from him is base, telling him would kill him.... Goodness knows what’s one to do. Well, how is it to be?”

Groholsky pondered. His pale face wore a frown.

“Let us go on always as we are now,” said Liza. “Let him find out for himself, if he wants to.”