First Love by Ivan Turgenev

Russian Literature – Children Books – Russian Poetry – Ivan Turgenev – First Love – Contents

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I should be hard put to it, if I were made to narrate in detail all that went on within me in the course of the week which followed my unsuccessful nocturnal expedition. It was a strange, feverish time, a sort of chaos in which the most opposite emotions, thoughts, suspicions, hopes, joys, and sufferings revolved in a whirlwind; I was afraid to look into myself, if a sixteen-year-old can look into himself; I was afraid to account to myself for anything whatsoever; I simply made haste to live through the day until the evening; on the other hand, at night I slept … childish giddiness helped me. I did not want to know whether I was beloved, and would not admit to myself that I was not beloved; I shunned my father—but could not shun Zinaída…. I burned as with fire in her presence, … but what was the use of my knowing what sort of fire it was wherewith I burned and melted—seeing that it was sweet to me to burn and melt! I surrendered myself entirely to my impressions, and dealt artfully with myself, turned away from my memories and shut my eyes to that of which I had a presentiment in the future…. This anguish probably would not have continued long … a thunder-clap put an instantaneous end to everything and hurled me into a new course.

On returning home one day to dinner from a rather long walk, I learned with surprise that I was to dine alone; that my father had gone away, while my mother was ill, did not wish to dine and had shut herself up in her bedroom. From the footmen’s faces I divined that something unusual had taken place…. I dared not interrogate them, but I had a friend, the young butler Philípp, who was passionately fond of poetry and an artist on the guitar; I applied to him. From him I learned that a frightful scene had taken place between my father and mother (for in the maids’ room everything was audible, to the last word; a great deal had been said in French, but the maid Másha had lived for five years with a dressmaker from Paris and understood it all); that my mother had accused my father of infidelity, of being intimate with the young lady our neighbour; that my father had first defended himself, then had flared up and in his turn had made some harsh remark “seemingly about her age,” which had set my mother to crying; that my mother had also referred to a note of hand, which appeared to have been given to the old Princess, and expressed herself very vilely about her, and about the young lady as well; and that then my father had threatened her.—“And the whole trouble arose,”—pursued Philípp, “out of an anonymous letter; but who wrote it no one knows; otherwise there was no reason why this affair should have come out.”

“But has there been anything?”—I enunciated with difficulty, while my hands and feet turned cold, and something began to quiver in the very depths of my breast.

Philípp winked significantly.—“There has. You can’t conceal such doings, cautious as your papa has been in this case;—still, what possessed him, for example, to hire a carriage, or to … for you can’t get along without people there also.”

I dismissed Philípp, and flung myself down on my bed. I did not sob, I did not give myself up to despair; I did not ask myself when and how all this had taken place; I was not surprised that I had not guessed it sooner, long before—I did not even murmur against my father…. That which I had learned was beyond my strength; this sudden discovery had crushed me…. All was over. All my flowers had been plucked up at one blow and lay strewn around me, scattered and trampled under foot.

< < < Chapter XVIII
Chapter XX > > >

Russian Literature – Children Books – Russian Poetry – Ivan Turgenev – First Love – Contents

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