X + 

The night of the goose and champagneтБатАФthe night of SeryozhaтАЩs arrival at the OstapenkosтАЩ houseтБатАФseemed the longest night in the whole realm of timeтБатАФa sort of Methuselah of a night. The days of a manтАЩs life, thought Seryozha, are of different ranksтБатАФcounts, princes, fat bourgeois days, rough peasant daysтБатАФbut this was a grand, duke of a day, a giant of rank, quite outside the standard of ordinary days. Each royal minute was like an hour, each hour like a crowned year. All the other days of his life should bow before thisтБатАФthe day that promoted him to be a king, to be married, to drink champagne. + 

WilfredтАЩs great day, which, for some little time, may be said to have been in eclipse, rose again when the goose was served. Wilfred, on being tactfully roused by Seryozha and led away to put his head under the pump, assumed a guiltily bright manner, to prove to the world, and to the absent Reverend Oswald Fawcett (who was WilfredтАЩs conscience) that he had not drunk any wine to speak of. He did not notice that his legal document had disappeared from in front of him; he hardly remembered having written it, though it remained a settled plan in his mind; his tongue felt a little knotted and uncertain, but that did not matter, since scarcely anyone would have understood anything he said in any case. He enjoyed the goose. + 

VarvaraтАЩs goose took three and a half hours to eat. It was half past eleven when they finally could eat no more, and even then there was no childish suggestion of going to bed. The day was recognized by common consent as a great day, and allowed to occupy its throne indefinitely. It scarcely seemed to the happy and excited Seryozha to move at all. Half past eleven when the goose was finished and, hours later, only twenty-eight minutes to twelve. The time that had elapsed since his proposal to marry Tatiana had been accepted seemed so enormous that he was as well reconciled to it as though his parents had arranged it in his childhood. Age had matured and mellowed it to the status of a reasonable sanctioned thing. + 

He found Tanya more and more beautiful each minute, and each long minute gave him time to learn something new and delightful about her face. At first it embarrassed him to look at her across the brown hill of goose carcass that stood between them, because she, on her part, never took her eyes off his face. But after a while he found that somehow, though her eyes were on him, their two pairs of eyes never seemed to meet. She seemed to be looking at him in a blind way, as a painted picture looks, and he could watch her without self-consciousness, as one might bravely cross glances with a painted queen. Seryozha had never in his life had such an opportunity to look at a beautiful girl. He had no words to say all the things he noted about her. тАЬSupple,тАЭ he thought, anxiously, тАЬcleanтБатАФevenтБатАФivoryтБатАФbones like carved curvesтБатАФhollows under cheekbones, carved againтБатАФsomething pulling outer corners of eyes down and lips upтБатАФaccurateтБатАФkeenтБатАФsun always dazzling eyes.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ He saw that her skin was like faintly tinted ivory, but, never having approached real civilization, was not surprised at that pale gloss that would have showed you or me that Tatiana had never come in contact with a powder puff. + 

As for Tatiana, she had never seen that odd animal, man, presented in such fair colors and with such striking inoffensiveness of detail. I dare say that the fact that Seryozha had never yet needed to shave (though he did shave, sometimes, on Sundays, when his mother was unusually forgetful of his manliness) had, at the beginning, more part in his fascination for her than any other factor. He seemed to her so well sewn up in his nice skin. Men, she had always found, were such a clumsy piece of work compared with animals. They were so flawed, so pitted with pores and discolorations, so smoky, so hot, so shiny bald or sticky-hairedтБатАФlike a childтАЩs stitching on canvas, whereas any animal was like Chinese embroidery on silk. One had only to compare the face of a Korean beggar dogтБатАФcrawling with ticks, yet honest, finished, and sinlessтБатАФwith that of a Korean beggar manтБатАФrotted away with mean and complex depravityтБатАКтБатАж one had only to compare the fine eager beam of a thirsty horse bending to drink from a pool, with the leer of a Russian approaching his glass of beerтБатАФto see the essential golden rightness in an animalтАЩs face and to admit the spoiled spotted thing that man is. Seryozha seemed to Tatiana as flawless and bland as an animal, and she watched him with real delight and imagination, as she often watched her fatherтАЩs young horses running from end to end of their field. Life beamed from Seryozha directтБатАФnot refracted among distorting human angles. Whatever he did would be right, Tatiana thought, just as whatever an animal does is right. Sometimes dangerous, perhaps, sometimes surprisingтБатАФbut always right. And always lovely, if one looked at it not through the complicated spoiled lens of human eyes. Something about an animal was always mercifully far awayтБатАФby itself, even if the animal was in oneтАЩs arms, demanding attention. Something about man was too close, even if that man was far away, even if he was dead in a far country, dead of his own intrusion. Something about Seryozha would always be far away, thought Tatiana, even if his breath were on oneтАЩs cheekтБатАФsomething in him would be part of the sunny, sweet, dumb world, happy and living by itself, like a galloping colt. + 

Pavel OstapenkoтАЩs voice trumpeted on. Hardly a word he said was true, but every word exalted him or his family. He was like a motor engine which, by running, charges continually its own battery. The more his lips uttered his own praises, the more was his listening heart charged with an exquisite accumulation of vanity, and the more self-flatteries did his lips find to express. Seryozha was by now quite established as a grafted twig upon the towering Ostapenko tree. The divine word Ostapenko now included Seryozha and his parents, and the whole great branching growth brushed the clouds. + 

Neither Seryozha nor Wilfred drank any more wine. This was partly because Pavel Ostapenko had by now drunk so much that he continually forgot to fill any glass but his own. But it was also because Seryozha was warm with a glow of glittering responsibility; he did not want to lose himself in folly and sickness tonight; he was gloriously happy as he was, and everything looked as happy as a flower. He felt that he had climbed to a pinhead peak of happiness, and that to go any farther would be as stupid a descent as to retreatтБатАФand almost as impossible. As for Wilfred Chew, the spirit of the Reverend Oswald Fawcett was reestablished on his discipleтАЩs inward throne. Wilfred felt sure that he had not yet done anything wrong. Surely a good Wesleyan could join in the harmless feastings of his friendsтБатАФespecially if the language bar prevented any other sociable interchange. Champagne up till now had been labeled Good Fellowship. But the happy emergency of Good Fellowship being over, the liquid part of the feasting now became alcohol and even moral danger. Wilfred, really anxious to be good, was made aware of the necessity for this change of labels, by noticing that he was talking, involuntarily, in a rather peculiar way. Every time he finished a sentence he clicked in his throat and resolved prudently to say no more. Then, the next minute, that hard-worked and usually impeccable servant, his tongue, would start unexpectedly on a new piece of strangely twisted and thwarted information. + 

Varvara Ostapenko sat divided between a resentful conviction that her husband was drunk, and a resentful fear that the strangers might have the impertinence to notice that he was drunk. There were drawbacks in being married to such a rare creature as her husband, she thought, and one of the drawbacks was the commonness of the people who dared to pass their common secret judgments on his rarity. Drunkenness was an Ostapenko oddity that she allowed for in the Procrustes frame of her wifely pride, but every time her husband got drunk he got drunk in a slightly different way, and she had to use her ingenuity to lop off something here about his behavior, and stretch something there, to fit her angular, inelastic standard of Ostapenkoism. She felt the necessity of presenting to strangers the sight of each Ostapenko neatly fitted into this frameтБатАФтАЬand criticize anything if you dare!тАЭ PavelтАЩs romantic lies were part of her standard for him; his arrogance, his belching, his forgetfulness of his guestsтАЩ needs, his occasional rancorous references to his daughterтБатАФwere excrescences that needed shaping into conformity, and at every example of these unlicensed eccentricities, Varvara looked furiously at Seryozha and Wilfred to see if they had dared to see or hear. + 

But Seryozha stared only at Tatiana, and Wilfred was listening only for loopholes in the talk into which he might squeeze some uncomprehended remark of his own. So presently Varvara felt that she could trust her rare drunk Pavel alone with these gentle strangers and go to bed. She took TatianaтАЩs hand to lead her away. + 

The mutual stare of Tatiana and Seryozha had, it seemed to them, blown a sort of thin glass globe enclosing themтБатАФa glittering loneliness in which a miracle of dumb familiarity had been possible. All round it the humming sound of PavelтАЩs talk had only served to make their apartness more private. Seryozha was even able to leave enough of his unneeded brain outside this crystal bubble to allow him to answer with a suitable grunt the tone of any of PavelтАЩs remarks that sounded incomplete without a complementary guestly grunt. But all the time he and Tatiana felt as deeply sunk in themselves and in each other as puppies must feel in one litter in the straw while the bustle of the stable goes on above them. And now, by VarvaraтАЩs action in rising and taking TatianaтАЩs hand, their glass house was shattered, their mindless drowsy warmth of shared life was startled into a tiresome awareness. + 

The women were gone. The royal day had doffed its crown. + 

Pavel OstapenkoтАЩs talk now imposed the tiresome necessity of being understood. There was now nothing for Seryozha to bury his attention in, except his hostтАЩs voiceтБатАФnothing to watch except those staring, rufous eyes, that little gold-red beard being pulled and pushed like a latch to open and shut busy jaws, the blouse flapping open to show drops of sweat among the thick auburn hairs on his breast. + 

Directly Varvara and Tatiana had gone, Pavel, also noticing their absence, responded to it by talking about his wife. + 

тАЬA wonderful womanтБатАФmy wifeтБатАФVarvara Alexeievna,тАЭ he said. тАЬI wish I could be sure that our girl would make you as good a wife as her mother has me. Lord! how sorry I feel for some of my friends with their scolding wivesтБатАФwives who set themselves up to be their equalsтБатАФwives who gad about in silk stockingsтБатАФwives who get drunkтБатАФwives who canтАЩt even roast a chicken decently. You know, there was quite a romance about my marriage with Varvara Alexeievna.тБатАКтБатАж She was a milkmanтАЩs daughter, and of course my people wouldnтАЩt hear of such a match for me. We Ostapenkos are intensely proudтБатАФbut also, mark you, intensely romanticтБатАФchivalrousтБатАФdisinterested. If one of my family gives his word, well, heтАЩll keep it as though it were a lawyerтАЩs bond. Well, thatтАЩs what my father hadnтАЩt reckoned withтБатАФhe wasnтАЩt allowing for the romantic chivalry I inherited from him and the impulsive, passionate, quixotic line behind him. I wonтАЩt conceal from you that my father had reason on his side; I could have made a most excellent marriage with the daughter of one of my fatherтАЩs oldest friendsтБатАФa fine plump girl with a big dowry and broad hips and shoulders, who loved me to distraction and would no doubt have borne me half a dozen sons to carry on my name, instead of one puny hen-chick. It would have been a good match, and I wonтАЩt say that I was blind to its advantagesтБатАФbut, тАШNo,тАЩ I saidтБатАФтАШno, papa, I canтАЩt go back on my wordтБатАФтАЩтАКтАЭ + 

тАЬTranslate to our host, Saggay Saggayitch,тАЭ Wilfred suddenly said, speaking very carefully, тАЬhow much I admire his taste in furningтБатАФin furshтБатАФin furnacesтБатАФin furnishing what is usually such a comfortless placeтБатАФa Japanese house. It is almost English, almost тАЩsgood as the first-class boardinghouse where I stayed in Bloomsbury West Central One, while a law student. Such strong chegs to the lairs, and all so costly as I can see with half an eggтБатАФhalf an eye.тАЭ + 

тАЬтАКтАШPoor little Varvara Alexeievna loves me, papa,тАЩ I said, тАШand counts on me. IтАЩve given her my word and IтАЩll marry her like an honorable man.тАЩ Well, there was a terrible passionate sceneтБатАФtypical of the scenes in our family, for we were no milk-and-water lot, I assure you, when roused. But in the end my father saw I was determinedтБатАФa twinkle came into his eye and he said, тАШBy God! Pavlik, youтАЩre a true Ostapenko, no doubt about thatтБатАФтАЩтАКтАЭ + 

тАЬAnd tell him, too,тАЭ added Wilfred, тАЬthat even in England I never saw before a mustard-pot in the shape of a howlтБатАФowlтБатАФthough I once saw this bird in person when going to Ascot in a flus, buttering through the woods one evening. FlutteringтБатАФthroughтБатАФa woodтБатАФin-a-bus.тАЭ + 

тАЬI married Varya, as you might say, if not exactly out of pity, certainly out of chivalryтБатАФpoor soul. I knew she was not likely to have any other offersтБатАФa poor milkmanтАЩs daughter, and so thin, and with that birthmark. But Lord, she wasтБатАФand still isтБатАФdevoted to me. She knows her luck.тАЭ + 

PavelтАЩs face was the face of a man who had never had a setback. His features were set in lines of happy certainty; his mouth looked entirely brave against self-doubt; his tongue did not know how to stumble. Only his eyes, anxious and roundly staring, looked as if they feared attackтБатАФas if he had to open them widely in order to collect evidence that all that he said was believed and appreciated. His eyes challenged you to say that he lied or was mistaken in anything, and if you had expressed a doubt, he would have piled evidence on evidence, false witness on false witness, lie upon lie, perjured oath upon oath, completely forgetting the foundation of truth on which such a toppling edifice of affirmation is most safely built. Until at last you had to admit, тАЬWellтБатАФyesтБатАФif you assure me of that, and that, and that, and swear to it so solemnly, of course I must believe you that this is so,тАЭ and only then did his round eyes relax, blink, look safe again. You were convinced; that was all that mattered; he had obliged you to admit that he was right. Whether he was right did not matterтБатАФthat he had lied from the beginning did not matterтБатАФyou had said that he was right, you accepted his truth, though it was no truth. + 

тАЬI must say,тАЭ went on Pavel, тАЬexcept in one matter, IтАЩve never had to regret my impulsive and chivalrous decision. VaryaтАЩs been a wonderful wife to me (I can see it now looking back) except in one particular. The exception I leave you to imagine, my dear boy. YouтАЩre young, but you know life, and you know as well as I do there are certain things a decent man doesnтАЩt give away when talking of his wife. NatureтБатАФand a manтАЩs nature especially, mind youтБатАФshocks her, seems to her improper. She has tried to adapt herself, poor soul; she sees quite well that such freakishness and prudishness make a woman an unworthy mate for a manly man. But fundamentally, itтАЩs still there.тБатАКтБатАж It accounts for much of the oddity in our TanyaтАЩs nature. Tanya, our only child, has inherited her motherтАЩs nature, though her coldness has a different aspect.тБатАКтБатАж Tanya doesnтАЩt think anything improperтБатАФindeed, her mother and I have often had to check the freedom with which she describes her observations of animals. She doesnтАЩt examine realities enough to be shocked by themтБатАФshe just feels far away from physical realities. She is, you see, of an unhuman nature. (IтАЩm not concealing anything from you, my boy, I donтАЩt think it would be fair.)тАЭ + 

He fixed his round eyes on Seryozha all the time, as if, in spite of the complacent set of his mouth and carriage of his head, he was expecting Seryozha to say: тАЬO Lord! Pavel Nicholaievitch, you are a liar!тАЭ But of course Seryozha said nothing of the sort. He sat in a dream, half listening to his host, half remembering the lost face of Tatiana. He rubbed the bridge of his broad shiny nose wisely. Of course he knew that parents never know anything about their children. + 

тАЬSaggay Saggayitch,тАЭ said Wilfred, тАЬyou say nothing. As a friend you will тАЩllow me to suggest, would it not be better to show a little more vivivacity with this kind gentleman, Mr.┬аOzz. You donтАЩt talk enough, my dear chap, you donтАЩt make the bezz of yourself. Your future may hang on making bezz of self.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhen I say unhuman,тАЭ went on Pavel, тАЬI donтАЩt mean anything against the childтАЩs temper. She has the sweetest temper, the tenderest heart.тБатАКтБатАж She gets her sweetness of nature from my side, of course. SheтАЩs a dear girl and perhaps love will teach her a great deal. I used to call her a fairy when she was little, and now sometimes IтАЩm tempted to call her a fairy still, but IтАЩd say it in a different voice now. ItтАЩs been a great pain to me. I counted so on a family of robust sons and daughters to hand on my good old name to.тБатАКтБатАж TheyтАЩre a manтАЩs immortality, his children and his childrenтАЩs children.тБатАКтБатАж However, my dear boy, it may very well be that the right husband for Tanya may get the right results with her. One never can tell. Even icebergs melt under some sun or other, and Tanya, as I say, isnтАЩt an iceberg emotionallyтБатАКтБатАж she has my blood in her as well as her motherтАЩs, and therefore she has her own brand of passionate feelings, like all her breed. She signed that paper with a very good graceтБатАФallowing for the natural shrinking of a young girlтБатАФand in a sense she is already your wife, with her own eager consent, mark you, which is further than any of the other lads ever got. That paper was drawn up by a professional lawyer, and declares you man and wife. You couldnтАЩt ask for a better paper than that.тАЭ He was silent suddenly, pouring himself out some more wine. + 

Nobody spoke for several minutes, not even Wilfred. WilfredтАЩs head was nodding; his eyelids and chin were dropping. The clock pointed to half past twelve and Seryozha was proud to find that he was not sleepy. + 

Pavel began speaking again in a voice of rather defiant surprise. тАЬJust now I said тАШIn a sense Tanya is your legal wife.тАЩ But of course really thereтАЩs no in a sense about it. She is your wife. That document was drawn up by a professional lawyer; we have all signed it in the presence of Varya and Katya as witnesses. What more could we do to make a marriage legal? There is no priest of our Church availableтБатАФbesides, you and I are too modern to feel the need of the ChurchтАЩs interference in practical matters like this. In ParisтБатАФLondonтБатАФNew YorkтБатАФa legal paper, duly drawn up and signed, is enough for a legal marriage. Why should we expect more in Mi-san? My boy, youтАЩre a married man. Congratulations!тАЭ Doubt came into his strained eyes again. тАЬReally I donтАЩt know what else one could want to make the thing correct and in orderтБатАФlacking a priest. ItтАЩs not as if there was any unwillingness on either sideтБатАФyou both signed of your own free will, at your own suggestion. She gets a good dowry. YouтАЩll find me a generous father-in-law. All we Ostapenkos are generous to a fault. Your father, Sergei Dmitrivitch, will be delighted at such a good match for youтБатАФa dowry of two thousand yen is not to be sniffed at, and thereтАЩll be more laterтБатАФand he gets a lovely daughter-in-law into the bargain.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe paper is legal all right,тАЭ said Seryozha solemnly, speaking to the shades of his father and mother, and pursing his face into a man-of-the-worldly look. тАЬAs legal as possible. Mr.┬аChew is a famous lawyer in London. He never would write an illegal paper.тАЭ + 

Wilfred, opening his eyes for a moment, found the eyes of both Russians fixed upon him. He was one who always put the best construction on any ambiguity, and that two Russians should look at him implied some pleasing compliment just uttered in their outlandish tongue. He bowed pleasantly in answer to their look. But bowing, which he always did thoroughly and briskly, being always quite sure of his occasion, now started a ball rolling in his head. Something went on bowing by itself inside his brain; the room bowed round himтБатАФor rather curtsied, in silly acknowledgment of this something inside his head that went on bowing. Was his outer skull really wagging? he asked himself in some consternation. Could this uncertain ball be the head of Wilfred Chew, Esquire? A slight bump as his forehead hit the table showed him that his head, though unusually independent, was still attached to his body, but, since the forehead was on the table, he might as well let it stay there. тАЬThen they will think I am simply asleep,тАЭ he thought, cunningly. тАЬAny gentleman may go to sleep without being thought morally affected.тАЭ It was quite outside his plan actually to go to sleep. His pretense of sleep took on an aspect of revenge, almost, in his own mind as he shut his eyes. тАЬWell, if people will talk Russian for six hours without a break, they canтАЩt be surprised if their superiors seem to go to sleep.тАЭ He listened upward, as it were, feeling that he was turning his ears like a dogтБатАФlistened to the sound of PavelтАЩs talk. It sounded like shyok-shyeh-shyok-shyeh, and in WilfredтАЩs ears it swelled and dwindled like the humming one hears when under chloroform, or like the wowing of an airplane engine in the sky. + 

While he was still marveling at the fact that this contagious bowing craze seemed to be affecting his hearing and making sound bow too, a sudden startling silence fell in the room. The light inside WilfredтАЩs eyelids changed from scarlet to deep purple. Someone must be taking the lamp away. Heavy feet trampled cautiously out of the room, the rhythm of their tread adjusting itself to the rhythm of WilfredтАЩs throbbing attention. Tramp-tiтБатАФtramp-tiтБатАФtramp-tiтБатАФand then a check, and a womanтАЩs voice тАЬAh Pavlik!тАЭтБатАФa voice of almost unbearable disappointment. + 

Wilfred lifted his pendulum head only enough to be able to lean his chin instead of his brow upon his hands. His head might actually roll off if he should rear it unsupported into the swinging air again. Across a glimmering silver plain of lampless tablecloth, he saw a perfectly still golden scene framed in the doorway. Pavel Ostapenko, holding the lamp a little crooked but not dangerously so, stood facing his wife in the passage, his eyes stretched to an alert glare, like a squirrelтАЩs eyes. Varvara, in a blue cotton kimono, stood defiantly across the passage, watching her husband with a defiant dark look. Her wine-colored birthmark looked like an eccentric shadow thrown by a more ominous flame than the lampтАЩs light. Seryozha, against the opposite wall, was drawing a little parcel from his pack. тАЬThe fishтАЩs liver and heart,тАЭ thought Wilfred. тАЬHe is going to face the devil in that red and white Tanya woman. She sleeps behind that door at the top of the little matted slope out of the kitchen. I saw her go in when I was washing at the pump.тАЭ тАЬPavlik!тАЭ cried Varvara again with a low violence of voice, but her husband took one step towards her, took SeryozhaтАЩsтБатАФarm and pointed over his wifeтАЩs shoulderтБатАФтАЬAt the devilтАЩs door,тАЭ thought Wilfred. Varvara put both her hands in her mouth, cramming all her fingers between her lips as though frantically trying to tear them to pieces. She looked like a witch, grinning fixedly through the fringe of her fingers. Pavel began talking again. WowтБатАФwowтБатАФwowтБатАФ, heard Wilfred. WilfredтАЩs heavy eyelids dropped like a curtain on the bright scene, and when next he half lifted them there was no light except the light of the kitchen fire, blurring and quickening on the passage walls, like breath dimming a windowpane. There were distant voices in the kitchen. WilfredтАЩs perceptive senses became mixed in a drowsiness, and the voices became a cloud, a curious menacing cloud like a wing, each spasm of sound a feather in the wingтБатАФthe whole flaked cloud coming nearer and nearer on a wind that blew in regular throbbing gusts. Before this wind all the trees in the world bowed, and all the leaves on all the trees were blown so as to show their white liningsтБатАФwhite flecks showing silver in a moonlight that streamed from no visible moon. The moonlight had a breathless quality, in spite of the wind. Everything in the world was flawed and burnt with sparks of white; all the stars of the sky, fleeing from that stupendous winged dragon of a cloud, were lying dying in agony in the dust, like fish thrown up by a great departed wave. Trees, houses, deserts, and mountains were caked, clogged, with dying, gasping stars. The pursuing cloud strode across the sky; one could hear now the approaching boomтБатАФboomтБатАФboom of its wings. And Wilfred, sweating with excitement, addressed the jury, though his voice was a little thick. тАЬI know how you bind dragons, gentlemen,тАЭ said Wilfred. тАЬWith one hand you take them behind the gills and with the other behind the wingpitsтБатАФ(wingpits? Well, armpits. Why not wingpits?) Yes, with the other firmly under the wingpits and thus they are perfectly helpless.тАЭ He said this bravely and the jury was obviously impressed. The jury numbered thousandsтБатАФtheir little silver-white faces upturned, all over the twilit limitless hall. One must be brave before such a crowd of puny dying white facesтБатАФyet, as the wide earthshaking booming of wings drew closer and closer, Wilfred wondered whether he could really master so frightful an enemy single-handed. Boom! boom! boom! boom!тБатАФthe monster was upon him; it had only a little blank disc for a faceтБатАФhow much more terrible than gnashing teeth and flashing eyes! Wilfred suddenly shouted in such a great voice that the strong wind was checked and the galloping cloud thrown back on its haunches. Asmodeus. Asmodeus. Asmodeus. Now what? thought Wilfred, mad to show his own monstrous power. One hand pinching the gills and the other the soft bending ribs (a lizardтАЩs ribs), a twirlтБатАКтБатАж round and round the sequin-scaled body whipped the rope, flipped skillfully by WilfredтАЩs heroic hand. тАЬI am boundтБатАФI am boundтБатАФI am bound,тАЭ piped the little fading disc that was the demonтАЩs face. But, oh, the scales were cold. They burned like naked ice. The great icy body leaped, squirmed, and writhed like a hooked fish. Here, a limb struggled looseтБатАФWilfred lashed it with another loop; there, the tail began sweeping freeтБатАФit was bound before more than a paltry million stars had been annihilated; here, a claw reached out and was instantly netted. The vast faceless thing heaved, powerless, agonized.тБатАКтБатАж Yet, what was thatтБатАФboom! boom! boom! boom! again? Was some outlying coil breaking free? A scarlet air was blinding the world, a scarlet pain was riveted like a helmet on the heroтАЩs brow. Walls, a table, lamplight, a smell of roast gooseтБатАФlittle dazzling homely things imprisoned him. Here was the room again, safe now from its terrific menace. Pavel Ostapenko was coming in with the lamp. He would want to hear the news of WilfredтАЩs victory, of course, yet it was difficult to talk through such a taste in the mouthтБатАФsuch a band of pain round the skull. + 

тАЬI bound Asmodeus! I bound him!тАЭ cried Wilfred. тАЬAhтБатАФmy head! my head!тБатАКтБатАж Yet I bound himтБатАФAsmodeus.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

Ostapenko sat down at the table and buried his face in his hands. + 

тАЬWhere is Saggay Saggayitch?тАЭ asked Wilfred, thickly, feeling the need of an interpreter. + 

тАЬSergei Sergeievitch? Oi! whereтБатАФwhere?тАЭ groaned Pavel in English. + 

This unexpected proof of linguistic sympathy encouraged Wilfred to begin to tell Ostapenko about his dream in detail. He never could quite believe that people really didnтАЩt understand English. Incomprehension was a sort of coyness on their part, which brisk treatment might help them to overcome. + 

But Ostapenko only replied by groans; only when Varvara came in did the talk begin again, and then, of course, in no more intelligent language than that outlandish Russian. Shyeh-shyeh shyok-shyok wow-wowтБатАФas though by its pulsing it was measuring off the seconds of this endless night. + 

тАЬDonтАЩt Russians ever go to bed?тАЭ thought Wilfred. Clasping his aching head without disguise, he got up and stumbled over to the sofa. None of them cared that he had bound Asmodeus for their sake. By the wayтБатАФwhy Asmodeus? He lay down on the sofa and was instantly drowned in profound dark sleep. + 

тАЬYou neednтАЩt look at me like that, Varya,тАЭ said Pavel, raising his tired face. тАЬIt seems to me you have lost your senses. Here we have a charming and eligible young manтБатАФa kinsman of my ownтБатАФwhom our daughter has chosen willingly as her husbandтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬPavlikтБатАФthink.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, my dear, IтАЩm not jumping to any conclusions. IтАЩm only asking you not to be so sure that your daughter shared your own ignorance as to the actual significance of that paper she so eagerly signed. She has plenty of sense, and she must have realized that one doesnтАЩt sign lawyersтАЩ papers without committing oneself to something. She realized from the first, I think, that it made a married woman of her. She was probably waiting and wondering, in her roomтБатАФa neglected brideтБатАФтАЭ + 

He paused to listen for that urgent, тАЬPavlikтБатАФthinkтАЭ again, but it did not come. Hearing no protest from his wife, he allowed his always self-sufficient mind to nurse the illusion that he had prevailed. Varya believed himтБатАФand why not? He had told her the truth. The paper was binding, the marriage sanctified by lawyersтАЩ law, according to Western European custom if not Russian custom. He was not accustomed to imagining what lay behind other peopleтАЩs silences, nor had he any ears to hear things that were not uttered. His roving telltale eyes, however, refused to look at his wife. + 

His voice began again with a challenging confident sound. тАЬTanyaтАЩs consent means the more because she is by no means easy to please.тБатАКтБатАж Seven betrothals behind her, all broken by her own overfastidiousness and whims. Here we have the pair, obviously falling in love at first sight, like the story books. Here we have Sergei Sergeievitch only too willing to overlook the unfortunate chops and changes of the past (which we have not concealed from him), proposing for our daughter most ardently, and Tanya at once showing an equal eagerness to be his wife. Here we have, most fortunately, on the spot, an English-trained lawyer of a high degree of learning, kindly arranging for us a legal marriage paper such as is daily drawn up in London or Paris or New York or any other sophisticated cityтБатАФa form of marriage which, in the absence of a Russian priest, is the best we can possibly hope for. How very very much more fortunate we are than those Russian familiesтБатАФwe know many of themтБатАФwho in these hard times, for lack of any religious marriage facilities and too ignorant to obtain legal help, have to dispense with any ceremony at all, however naturally moral, modest, and respectable they may be. We, on the other hand, have a paper, properly signed and in my safe keeping, and if things go wrong I now have a means of protecting my daughterтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬI canтАЩt hear their voices in the kitchen now,тАЭ said Varvara. + 

тАЬWell then, we must suppose theyтАЩve done all the talking they wantтБатАФin the kitchen,тАЭ said Pavel with a blustering uneasiness. тАЬBut, Varya, listenтБатАФwhat other marriage ceremony can you hope for? What would satisfy you? True, in old Russia nothing short of a ceremony in church would have contented us (little as I, a modernist, believe in these superstitions). But we are not in Russia now. We are exiles. We must no longer feel provincial and Russian in our prejudices. We are citizens of the world now. What is good enough for sophisticated modern people in the great cities of Europe must be good enough for us. We must move with the times. ThereтАЩs nothing else for it. Angels arenтАЩt likely to come down and conduct an orthodox Russian marriage service for us. That paper, I assure you, satisfied me, a business man, as being comprehensive and legal. You canтАЩt read English, but I can, and I read every word of it. In it Sergei Sergeievitch swears to be a faithful husband to our Tanya, to support her as long as they both live, to provide for her in case of his death, to take her to his home and treat her as what she isтБатАФhis legal wife. What more can he do? He has signed the paperтБатАФyou saw him do it. The lawyer had signed it already. I have signed it to show my approval and my willingness to do my partтБатАФgive our girl the dowry that we always meant to give her, and pay for the valuable services of the lawyer. Tanya signed it with her eyes open. I feel perfectly satisfied about it.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen why were you groaning just now as I came into the room?тАЭ asked Varvara. + 

тАЬWhyтБатАКтБатАж well, IтАЩm tired, of course, and overwrought. One has oneтАЩs feelings as a father, and oneтАЩs only childтАЩs marriage night is an emotional experience for any parent. Even though I am perfectly satisfied that the children are man and wife, and thatтБатАФWell, Varya, whatтАЩs the use of arguing? I gave in to you on every point you mentioned. I let you have a talk alone with the childтБатАФand I donтАЩt believe you did anything more helpful than cry over her. I admitted the sense of your suggestion that young Sergei shouldnтАЩt immediately take her away from her home, and he willingly promised to stay here for a fortnight, so as to allow the little creature to adapt herself to marriage in the comfort of familiar surroundings, with you and me at hand. And you saw how Tanya accepted what I said. She was listening attentively to me, I could see that, though she never has a closely attentive look; and if she was staring at her husband all the time, well, isnтАЩt that natural, in a young bride? And then, when I had explained to her gently that by signing that lawyerтАЩs paper the marriage had become a legal thing and that her husband was now entitled to some proof of her love and duty, did she protest? My dear Varya, you irritate me inexpressibly when you look like that. I ask you, did she? Compare her behavior tonight with what she did when Boris kissed her at the kissing gameтБатАФwith the fuss she kicked up when Sasha Weber pressed her to marry him before the end of the summerтБатАФwith her screaming hysterical fit when Petya Isaev kissed her in the garden on her birthday. Well, I ask youтБатАФwhat did she do tonight when she came back from her weep with you? She walked across the kitchen to her husband and just said his name, SeryozhaтБатАФjust like that, in a soft voiceтБатАФSeryozhaтАЭтБатАФ(Ostapenko wheezed a restrained falsetto). тАЬWhy, Varya, whatтАЩs the matter with you? You yourself were convinced at the time. You said to me, тАШCome away, Pavlik, itтАЩs their affair, after all. LetтАЩs leave them to work it out together, whichever way they wish.тАЩтАКтАЭ + 

Varvara was shaken. тАЬCan it be really all right?тАЭ she asked of the witnessing air. She was so well accustomed to thinking that everything had an odd contrary rightness of its own, if an Ostapenko thought it right. тАЬOh, PavlikтБатАФif you would only come free of these words and tell me out of your own heart if itтАЩs all right.тАЭ + 

He went on talking. She had known he would never come free of words. He could not. She knew the expression of his mouthтБатАФthe set of lips determined to convince by words alone. Even when she asked him, as she often did, to thinkтБатАФPavlikтБатАФthinkтБатАФshe knew it was impossible for him to think as well as talkтБатАФto go behind his own plausible words, to compare them with the facts in his own brain, and trim his argument to the shape of his inmost conviction. She knew that words were in themselves the stuff of his convictionтБатАФhe believed what he said, instead of saying what he believed. Yet this was Ostapenkoism; she did not criticize it; words were his genius, she thought. Outsiders might say that he quibbled, but his wife shaped his quibbling to fit into her pride in him. Only Pavlik could quibble as superbly as he quibbled. Only Pavlik could make a thing actually true by proving ingeniously that it was true. He could mold truth. She began to see that this elaborate quibble about Mr.┬аChewтАЩs paper was sealing the paper itself with an actuality, a significance, that it had not seemed to possess. The paper had floated as negligibly as a dead leaf into VarvaraтАЩs notice, and now here it was, transmuted by Ostapenko argument into a heavy lawyerтАЩs parchment, a thing to be kept in the safe, a thing solid enough for the future to be built on. It blew in like a leaf and settled like a stone. PavlikтАЩs talk and magic had turned the blowing fancy to stoneтБатАФto the cornerstone of the house. + 

Varvara was in the grip of reaction from her first moment of furious anger with Pavlik and her suspicion of him. When she had first seen him walking toward the kitchen threshold, pointing out TanyaтАЩs door to young Sergei Malinin, all her faith in him had seemed for a moment to be cracking. At that moment she could have torn him to pieces; he was something namelessly hideousтБатАФnaked of words at last. Now that he had clothed his intentions with their usual fine wrappings of explanation, she felt like a child who, in the dark, thinks it sees in a moving shadow at the door a bogey arriving frightfully to devour itтБатАФand then in the next moment identifies the thing as the sweet familiar shadow of its mother and feels incredibly safe again. Varvara felt the remorse such a child might feelтБатАФremorse and sheepishness, for having so mistaken that loving shadow, misheard that dear step, repulsed with panic a friend so tried and so trusted. Must she not make up for her first panic of misunderstanding by understanding with double intensity? + 

It was the more possible for Pavel to convince Varvara, because she felt herself, in this matter, on his ground, not her own. She had no illusions about the incompleteness of her own nature, though she would have resented bitterly any suggestion that an outsider could see her lack of life. Living with the ebullient Pavel had taught her secret humility. She therefore attached no moral superiority to her fear of loveтБатАФno you ought notтБатАФonly an alas, I am not. Her natural instinct, even if Tatiana had been married with every possible rite of orthodoxy, would have been to lie awake with tears of horror throughout her daughterтАЩs wedding night. This she recognized as morbidness, and was therefore the more inclined to distrust her own almost unbearable instinct of reluctance to believe in the sudden significance of this lawyerтАЩs paper. Paper blessingтБатАФchurchтАЩs blessingтБатАФarchimandriteтАЩs blessingтБатАФGodтАЩs blessingтБатАФher answer to each or all would have beenтБатАФNoтБатАФnoтБатАФnoтБатАФnot for my Tanya.тБатАКтБатАж + 

Among Ostapenkos, she was accustomed to being more sober but less inspired. She had felt essentially right as she barred her husbandтАЩs path to her daughterтАЩs door, but she was used to feeling right, yet knowing herself wrong. The strange rather than the reasonable must be her accepted standard. The breath of sobriety she introduced was an irrelevance, in this strange family she loved. + 

YetтБатАФin this caseтБатАФTanyaтБатАФthat white baffling door of TanyaтАЩs fortress to be knocked uponтБатАФto be assailed with such abrupt news from the strong thick world of men.тБатАКтБатАж + 

тАЬIтАЩll just stand in the passage for a minute to listen if I hear voices,тАЭ she said. тАЬHe may be arguing with her, trying to persuade her against her will. HeтАЩs just a boyтБатАФitтАЩs difficult for him. Supposing sheтАЩs crying.тБатАКтБатАж She cries so quietly.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬA funny thing,тАЭ said Pavel, тАЬto be expecting to hear the bride crying on a night like this.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

Varvara stood in the passage for a minute or two. There was no sound. She turned. Through the front door, left open for coolness this hot night, she saw the houses of Mi-san roofed with silver; she heard the distant barking of a dog sounding like a beating on copper. The alchemist stillness transmuted to bright metal the polished leaves of the zinnias and shrubs in the garden. The sky shone like a spangled dragonтАЩs wing. There were even stars in the dust of the streetтБатАФa dust of stars, too, over the brick material of the frame of the door, and stars in every spiderтАЩs-web. After all, sheтАЩs just another flower in another garden, thought Varya dreamily, another starry seed on the wind, blowing home to earth. She was thinking wordlessly; she was seeing a vision of the breaking of dear loneliness, the breaking of the virgin round world by the forces of fire and water and wind, the breaking open of strong remote mountains, breaking into chasms and seas, craters, valleys and peaksтБатАФthe dumb world breaking with a song of thunder, and broken, being clothed with intention at lastтБатАФclothed with snows and flowers and blue veils of ice and deserts of corn-colored sand and feathers of fireтБатАФa world the richer for its broken integrity. To make a statue was to break a stone. Being alive was a breaking of death. To become something was to shatter the peace of being nothing. + 

Come homeтБатАФcome homeтБатАФcome home, Tanya.тБатАКтБатАж + 

Varvara roused herself with a start, finding her lips parted to utter a call. She went back into the living-room and found her husband groaning again, his head in his hands. + 

тАЬWhat is distressing you so, Pavlik? You are so sure it is all right, and yet you moan and mourn.тАЭ + 

тАЬTschah! I donтАЩt know. Leave me alone. No, IтАЩll tell you. IтАЩm not worrying about our TanyaтБатАФsheтАЩs all right. She has to grow up sooner or later, and she showed more feeling about this boy than she did about any of the others. IтАЩm sure we were right to strike while the iron was hot. No, I worry about the boyтБатАФa decent bright boyтБатАФand my cousinтАЩs son, too. What if it were really true that thereтАЩs a curse on any lover who comes near our Tanya? We couldnтАЩt say we hadnтАЩt had full warningтБатАФshe really has sucked the life out of every one of the lads who were attracted by her good looks. Supposing it really is a fact that there is something deadly in her icy pretty looks. Supposing we find this nice boy dead by her side in the morning.тБатАКтБатАж What should we sayтБатАФhow should we explain it? The neighbors wouldтБатАФall say тАШwell, youтАЩve had fair warning, havenтАЩt you? ItтАЩs as good as murder.тАЩ One canтАЩt disregard such a possibility. ThereтАЩs something so very strange in the perfectly consistent string of disasters that has followed each of her affairsтБатАФdisasters to the lads themselves, I mean. IтАЩve heard of such cursesтАЭ (Pavel always had precedents ready). тАЬI knew of a nice old womanтБатАФvery rich, very quiet, very good-natured and considerateтБатАФwhose servants always died before they had been in her service a year. She was obliged at last to go and live in a hotel at Yalta, and even there, they say, the chambermaids kept on developing mysterious diseases. There are such casesтБатАФitтАЩs no good shutting oneтАЩs eyes to them. There certainly is something fatal about our TanyaтАЩs effect on menтБатАФthere isnтАЩt a single one of her admirers that hasnтАЩt reason to regret ever having set eyes on her. SashaтАЩs dead; Isaev, in the Chinese army, is as good as dead; young Stepan Soloviev is a hopeless sot; Boris threw up a respectable job to go and be a pimp in Shanghai; Vanya seems to have gone entirely off his head. One canтАЩt ignore all that, Varya, one canтАЩt say itтАЩs coincidenceтБатАФit does look like the work of some kind of devil that possesses our girl. Have we thrown away the life of this nice boy, Sergei Sergeievitch? His affair has gone further than any of the othersтБатАФthe curse would affect him more immediately and fatally.тБатАКтБатАж Oh, Varya, I have a dreadful premonitionтБатАКтБатАж I have a terrible feeling that in the morning we shall find him deadтБатАФand Tanya icy and quiet as she always is, no sorrier than if she had crushed a spider by mistake. What could we say? How could we explain it to his father and mother?тАЭ + 

тАЬItтАЩs the night makes you have such fancies, Pavlik,тАЭ said Varvara. тАЬTwo or three oтАЩclock in the morning is always the time when people who canтАЩt sleep have their dreadful fancies.тАЭ + 

тАЬTwo or three oтАЩclock in the morning is when people die,тАЭ said Pavel Ostapenko, shuddering. тАЬO God! what have I done that my only child is so cursed that I have to fear so for everyone who comes near her? What a silence is in this house, Varya! One can hear no sound of life at all.тАЭ + 

тАЬOne couldnтАЩt, anyway, from here.тАЭ + 

Ostapenko looked at the clock. тАЬI wonder why people die in the small hours. I wonder if itтАЩs because all the demons of the night have gathered strength out of the dark by then.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, certainly it isnтАЩt. It is because the pulse beats most weakly then.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, but the demons of the night perhaps seize that opportunity. Perhaps people always die then for that reason. The dead never come back to explain to us the deadly wiles of demons. O God! perhaps the boy, even as we speak, feels something freezing his heart, and thinks: тАШThey told me the truth about this haunted girl. Why wasnтАЩt I wise in time?тАЩтАКтАЭ + 

тАЬPerhaps you are a little tired, Pavlik,тАЭ said Varvara. тАЬOr even a littleтБатАФWell, you know, Pavlik, you drank a great deal of champagne.тАЭ + 

Pavel groaned again. His sense of guilt about his insistence on the consummation of the marriage had strangely disguised itself, transferred itself to a fear for SeryozhaтАЩs safety. His imagination was very strong when dealing with the inhuman and mysterious, although it could never penetrate a fellow mortalтАЩs skin and show him a glimpse of the reasonable and sensitive hearts of his neighbors. + 

тАЬWhy donтАЩt you go to bed?тАЭ suggested Varvara. тАЬYou are doing no good by sitting upтБатАФonly tormenting yourself.тАЭ + 

Pavel rose to his feet and left the room so promptly that Varvara looked after him in surprise. She was not accustomed to having her suggestions so instantly followed. + 

After a moment she rose, too. She looked down for a minute at the sleeping Wilfred. His mouth was wide open; his gold tooth looked ashamed with so much uncovered pink and cavernous mouth round it; as a rule, its glory was enhanced by the discreetness of its glimpsed glitter. тАЬHow hospitable we are to our visitors,тАЭ thought Varvara with a faint sneer, looking down at WilfredтАЩs helpless sagging face. Then she went to her bedroom, pausing a moment in the passage to listen to the silence. + 

Her husband was not in their bedroom. She lay down on the bed in her kimono, and shut her eyes. In the glimmering steel light of early dawn, the dark mark on her cheek looked like a third sunken eye. + 

She opened her eyes an hour later to find that her husband was still not by her side. As she went back along the passage to look for him, he came in at the front door, looking exhausted and wretched leaning on an earthy spade. + 

тАЬWhy, Pavlik, where have you been? You are all earthyтБатАФlook at your hands. You look so tired.тБатАКтБатАж What have you been doing?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh leave me aloneтБатАФdonтАЩt nag at me!тБатАКтБатАж Oh, Varya, I have such a terrible presentiment of evil to that boy. IтАЩm sure she breathes deathтБатАКтБатАж the more I think of it, the more sure I am.тБатАКтБатАж We are as good as murderersтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

Varvara sighed. тАЬOh, Pavlik, how obstinately fanciful you are when you have been drinking. Now thinkтБатАФthink of the ordinary everyday world; think of our dear little Tanya learning to knit socks for you, learning to ride a horse, helping me to make the beds and to shell peas.тБатАКтБатАж Demons donтАЩt live in such simple things. Here is KatyaтБатАФshe shall make us a cup of tea each.тАЭ + 

For the first beam of the sun, aiming like a wary archer across the red plain, always woke Katya to her work. The energetic old woman had no alarm clock; she relied on the sharp tip of the first ray to pry her little red eyelids apart. + 

тАЬA cup of tea,тАЭ she repeated after Varvara, opening that kitchen door which had been such a tiptoe secret all night, and stumping briskly into the kitchen. + 

Varvara stood in the front doorway, watching the sun riseтБатАФwatching the sun climb surefooted up straight rails of red cloud. + 

Pavel followed Katya into the kitchen. тАЬKatya, you know our little Tanya was married last night,тАЭ said Pavel in an uneasy whisper, pinning the old womanтАЩs attention with his wide sharp eyes. + 

тАЬMarried!тАЭ exclaimed Katya shrilly. + 

тАЬPssst! Yes, marriedтБатАФby this Chinese guest who is a lawyer and knows the London way of marrying without a priest.тАЭ + 

тАЬThere is no such thing as marriage without a priest,тАЭ began Katya loudly. + 

тАЬDevil take you, old woman, I tell you there is!тАЭ said Pavel, convulsed for a second with fury by this bluff attack on his edifice. тАЬTanya is married. She is a wife, legally. She is in that room there with her husbandтБатАФand with my blessing, I tell you. Do you think I should not be the first to make my only daughterтАЩs honor safe? DonтАЩt be such a fool, old woman, but listen to me. You know TanyaтБатАФyouтАЩve known her all her life. You know sheтАЩs not like other girls, quiteтБатАФeasy in love, accustomed to kissing and flirting. I want to know if theyтАЩre all rightтБатАФI must knowтБатАФand I darenтАЩt look inтБатАФI darenтАЩt.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬPavel Nicholaievitch, youтАЩve been drinking. Why should you want to spy on a man and his wifeтБатАФif man and wife they are?тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬThey areтБатАФthey are!тАЭ cried Pavel frantically. тАЬI swear they are legally man and wife.тБатАКтБатАж ItтАЩs only that I have a presentiment.тБатАКтБатАж Katya, be a good woman and just open that door a crackтБатАФjust peep in.тБатАКтБатАж I must know the worst now.тБатАКтБатАж I darenтАЩt look myself.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬAh, tschah!тАЭ said Katya. She waddled up the little matted slope and listened at TanyaтАЩs door. тАЬThereтАЩs no sound,тАЭ she said. + 

тАЬNo sound!тАЭ echoed Pavel, terrified. тАЬAh, dear Katya, just open the door a crack, very quietly, tell me how they look.тАЭ + 

Alarmed and shocked by his wild manner, Katya cautiously opened the door a very little, and put her fat red face to the crack. When she turned her face it was creased into a sentimental smile. тАЬI must say they are a pretty pair,тАЭ she said, as pleased as though she had had a hand in the creation of their beauty. тАЬAs pretty as fairies, asleep in each otherтАЩs arms, his lips to her cheekтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬO my God! Safe! Safe!тАЭ cried Pavel, and rushed down the passage, calling: тАЬTeaтБатАФtea! Varitchka, whereтАЩs my tea?тАЭ Then he ran like a boy back into the kitchen. тАЬKatya, you might tell Yi to fill up that deep trench he will find in the garden to the east of the poppy bed.тАЭ + 

тАЬI can see it from here,тАЭ said Katya. тАЬIt looks like a grave.тАЭ + 

тАЬYesтБатАФyes. I thought I might want to bury some rubbish today.тБатАКтБатАж But I donтАЩt want it now. Tell Yi to set to work on it at once.тБатАКтБатАж O God!тАЭ he cried, running back to Varvara. тАЬVaritchka, canтАЩt we praise God or somethingтБатАКтБатАжтАК?тАЭ + 