Sanine Part 26

"Come, come, gentlemen! What's the matter?" cried Ivanoff.

"Don't interfere! Let them fight it out!" interposed Sanine, laughing.

"It does not seem, but it is so!" said Novikoff, in the same tone, his eyes still fixed on his gla.s.s.

Instantly, as it were, a living wall rose up between the rivals, amid much shouting, waving of arms, and expressions of amus.e.m.e.nt or of surprise. Sarudine was held back by Malinowsky and Von Deitz, while Ivanoff and the other officers kept Novikoff in check. Ivanoff filled up the gla.s.ses, and shouted out something, addressing no one in particular. The gaiety was now forced and insincere, and Novikoff felt suddenly that he must get away.

He could bear it no longer. Smiling foolishly, he turned to Ivanoff and the officers who were trying to engage his attention.

"What is the matter with me?" he thought, half-dazed. "I suppose I ought to strike him ... rush at him, and give him one in the eye!

Otherwise, I shall look such a fool, for they must all have guessed that I wanted to pick a quarrel...."

But, instead of doing this, he pretended to be interested in what Ivanoff and Von Deitz were saying.

"As regards women, I don't altogether agree with Tolstoi," said the officer complacently.

"A woman's just a female," replied Ivanoff, "In every thousand men you might find one worthy to be called a man. But women, bah! They're all alike--just little naked, plump, rosy apes without tails!"

"Rather smart, that!" said Von Deitz, approvingly.

"And true, too," thought Novikoff, bitterly.

"My dear fellow," continued Ivanoff, waving his hands close to the other's nose, "I'll tell you what, if you were to go to people and say, 'Whatsoever woman looketh on a man to l.u.s.t after him hath committed adultery with him already in her heart,' most of them would probably think that you had made a most original remark."

Von Deitz burst into a fit of hoa.r.s.e laughter that sounded like the barking of a dog. He had not understood Ivanoff's joke, but felt sorry not to have made it himself.

Suddenly Novikoff held out his hand to him.

"What? Are you off?" asked Von Deitz in surprise.

Novikoff made no reply.

"Where are you going?" asked Sanine.

Still Novikoff was silent. He felt that in another moment the grief pent up within his bosom must break forth in a flood of tears.

"I know what's wrong with you," said Sanine. "Spit on it all!"

Novikoff glanced piteously at him. His lips trembled and with a deprecating gesture, he silently went out, feeling utterly overcome at his own helplessness. To soothe himself, he thought:

"Of what good would it have been to hit that blackguard in the face? It would have only led to a stupid fight. Better not soil my hands!"

But the sense of jealously unsatisfied and of utter impotence still oppressed him, and he returned home in deep dejection. Flinging himself on his bed, he buried his face in the pillows and lay thus almost the whole day long, bitterly conscious that he could do nothing.

"Shall we play makao?" asked Malinowsky.

"All right!" said Ivanoff.

The orderly at once opened the card-table and gaily the green cloth beamed upon them all. Malinowsky's suggestion had roused the company, and he now began to shuffle the cards with his short, hairy fingers.

The bright coloured cards were now scattered circle-wise on the green table, as the c.h.i.n.k of silver roubles was heard after each deal, while on all sides fingers like spiders closed greedily on the coin. Only brief, hoa.r.s.e e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns were audible, expressing either vexation or pleasure. Sarudine had no luck. He obstinately made a point of staking fifteen roubles, and lost every time. His handsome face wore a look of extreme irritation. Last month he had gambled away seven hundred roubles, and now there was all this to add to his previous loss. His ill-humour was contagious, for soon between Von Deitz and Malinowsky there was an interchange of high words.

"I have staked on the side, there!" exclaimed Von Deitz irritably.

It amazed him that this drunken boor, Malinowsky, should dare to dispute with such a clever, accomplished person as himself.

"Oh! so you say!" replied Malinowsky, rudely. "d.a.m.nation, take it! when I win, then you tell me you've staked on the side, and when I lose ..."

"I beg your pardon," said Von Deitz, dropping his Russian accent, as he was wont to do when angry.

"Pardon be hanged! Take back your stake! No! No! Take it back, I say!"

"But let me tell you, sir, that ..."

"Good G.o.d, gentlemen! what the devil does all this mean?" shouted Sarudine, as he flung down his cards.

At this juncture a new comer appeared in the doorway, Sarudine was ashamed of his own vulgar outburst, and of his noisy, drunken guests, with their cards and bottles, for the whole scene suggested a low tavern.

The visitor was tall and thin, and wore a loosely-fitting white suit, and an extremely high collar. He stood on the threshold amazed, endeavouring to recognize Sarudine.

"Hallo! Pavel Lvovitsch! What brings you here?" cried Sarudine, as, crimson with annoyance, he advanced to greet him.

The newcomer entered in hesitating fas.h.i.+on, and the eyes of all were fixed on his dazzlingly white shoes picking their way through the beer- bottles, corks and cigarette-ends. So white and neat and scented was he, that, in all these clouds of smoke, and amid all these flushed, drunken fellows, he might have been likened to a lily in the marsh, had he not looked so frail and worn-out, and if his features had not been so puny, nor his teeth so decayed under his scanty, red moustache.

"Where have you come from? Have you been away a long while from Pitjer?" [Footnote: A slang term for St. Petersburg.] said Sarudine, somewhat flurried, as he feared that "Pitjer" was not exactly the word which he ought to have used.

"I only got here yesterday," said the gentleman in white, in a determined tone, though his voice sounded like the suppressed crowing of a c.o.c.k. "My comrades," said Sarudine, introducing the others.

"Gentlemen, this is Mr. Pavel Lvovitsch Volochine."

Volochine bowed slightly.

"We must make a note of that!" observed the tipsy Ivanoff, much to Sarudine's horror.

"Pray sit down, Pavel Lvovitsch. Would you like some wine or some beer?"

Volochine sat down carefully in an arm-chair and his white, immaculate form stood out sharply against the dingy oil-cloth cover.

"Please don't trouble. I just came to see you for a moment," he said, somewhat coldly, as he surveyed the company.

"How's that? I'll send for some white wine. You like white wine, don't you?" asked Sarudine, and he hurried out.

"Why on earth does the fool want to come here today?" he thought, irritably, as he sent the orderly to fetch wine. "This Volochine will say such things about me in Petersburg that I shan't be able to get a footing in any decent house."

Meanwhile Volochine was taking stock of the others with undisguised curiosity, feeling that he himself was immeasurably superior. There was a look in his little gla.s.sy, grey eyes of unfeigned interest, as if he were being shown a collection of wild beasts. He was specially attracted by Sanine's height, his powerful physique, and his dress.

"An interesting type, that! He must be pretty strong!" he thought, with the genuine admiration of the weakling for the athlete. In fact, he began to speak to Sanine but the latter, leaning against the window- sill, was looking out at the garden. Volochine stopped short; the very sound of his own squeaky voice vexed him.

"Hooligans!" he thought.