Sanine by Mikhail Artsybashev

Author:Mikhail Artsybashev [Artsybashev, Mikhail]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Men -- Russia -- Fiction, Russia -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
Publisher: Standard Ebooks
Published: 2021-02-17T18:06:26+00:00

XX

Novikoff, when he opened the door himself to Sanine, looked far from pleased at the prospect of such a visit. Everything that reminded him of Lida and of his shattered dream of bliss caused him pain.

Sanine noticed this, and came into the room smiling affably. All there was in disorder, as if scattered by a whirlwind. Scraps of paper, straw, and rubbish of all sorts covered the floor. On the bed and the chairs lay books, linen, surgical instruments and a portmanteau.

“Going away?” asked Sanine, in surprise. “Where?” Novikoff avoided the other’s glance and continued to overhaul the things, vexed at his own confusion. At last he said:

“Yes, I’ve got to leave this place. I’ve had my official notice.”

Sanine looked at him and then at the portmanteau. After another glance his features relaxed in a broad smile.

Novikoff was silent, oppressed by his sense of utter loneliness and his inconsolable grief. Lost in his thoughts, he proceeded to wrap up a pair of boots together with some glass tubes.

“If you pack like that,” said Sanine, “when you arrive you’ll find yourself minus either tubes or boots.”

Novikoff’s tear-stained eyes flashed back a reply. They said, “Ah! leave me alone! Surely you can see how sad I am!”

Sanine understood, and was silent.

The dreamy summer twilight-hour had come, and above the verdant garden the sky, clear as crystal, grew paler. At last Sanine spoke.

“Instead of going the deuce knows where, I think it would be much more sensible if you were to marry Lida.”

Novikoff turned round trembling.

“I must ask you to stop making such stupid jokes!” he said in a shrill, hard voice. It rang out through the dusk, and echoed among the dreaming garden-trees.

“Why so furious?” asked Sanine.

“Look here!” began Novikoff hoarsely. In his eyes there was such an expression of rage that Sanine scarcely recognized him.

“Do you mean to say that it wouldn’t be a lucky thing for you to marry Lida?” continued Sanine merrily.

“Shut up!” cried the other, staggering forward, and brandishing an old boot over Sanine’s head.

“Now then! Gently! Are you mad?” said Sanine sharply, as he stepped backwards.

Novikoff flung the boot away in disgust, breathing hard.

“With that boot you were actually going to …” Sanine stopped, and shook his head. He pitied his friend, though such behaviour seemed to him utterly ridiculous.

“It’s your fault,” stammered Novikoff in confusion.

And then, suddenly, he felt full of trust and sympathy for Sanine, strong and calm as he was. He himself resembled a little schoolboy, eager to tell someone of his trouble. Tears filled his eyes.

“If you only knew how sad at heart I am,” he murmured, striving to conquer his emotion.

“My dear fellow, I know all about it—everything,” said Sanine kindly.

“No! You can’t know all!” said Novikoff, as he sat down beside the other. He thought that no one could possibly feel such sorrow as his.

“Yes, yes, I do,” replied Sanine, “I swear that I do; and if you’ll promise not to attack me with your old boot, I will prove what I say.

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