The Torrents Of Spring

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‘Well, do you like it?’ Maria Nikolaevna asked in a sort of exquisite whisper. ‘I like it!’ Sanin echoed back ecstatically. And his blood was on fire. ‘This isn’t all, wait a bit.’ She held out her hand. Her glove was torn across. ‘I told you I would lead you to the forest, to the mountains… . Here they are, the mountains!’ The mountains, covered with tall forest, rose about two hundred feet from the place they had reached in their wild ride. ‘Look, here is the road; let us turn into it – and forwards. Only at a walk. We must let our horses get their breath.’ They rode on. With one vigorous sweep of her arm Maria Nikolaevna flung back her hair. Then she looked at her gloves and took them off. ‘My hands will smell of leather,’ she said, ‘you won’t mind that, eh?’ … Maria Nikolaevna smiled, and Sanin smiled too. Their mad gallop together seemed to have finally brought them together and made them friends. ‘How old are you?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Twenty-two.’ ‘Really? I’m twenty-two too. A nice age. Add both together and you’re still far off old age. It’s hot, though. Am I very red, eh?’ ‘Like a poppy!’ Maria Nikolaevna rubbed her face with her handkerchief. ‘We’ve only to get to the forest and there it will be cool. Such an old forest is like an old friend. Have you any friends?’ Sanin thought a little. ‘Yes … only few. No real ones.’ ‘I have; real ones – but not old ones. This is a friend too – a horse. How carefully it carries one! Ah, but it’s splendid here! Is it possible I am going to Paris the day after to-morrow?’ ‘Yes … is it possible?’ Sanin chimed in. ‘And you to Frankfort?’ ‘I am certainly going to Frankfort.’ ‘Well, what of it? Good luck go with you! Anyway, to-day’s ours … ours … ours!’ The horses reached the forest’s edge and pushed on into the forest. The broad soft shade of the forest wrapt them round on all sides. ‘Oh, but this is paradise!’ cried Maria Nikolaevna. ‘Further, deeper into the shade, Sanin!’ The horses moved slowly on, ‘deeper into the shade’, slightly swaying and snorting. The path, by which they had come in, suddenly turned off 124
and plunged into a rather narrow gorge. The smell of heather and bracken, of the resin of the pines, and the decaying leaves of last year, seemed to hang, close and drowsy, about it. Through the clefts of the big brown rocks came strong currents of fresh air. On both sides of the path rose round hillocks covered with green moss. ‘Stop!’ cried Maria Nikolaevna, ‘I want to sit down and rest on this velvet. Help me to get off.’ Sanin leaped off his horse and ran up to her. She leaned on both his shoulders, sprang instantly to the ground, and seated herself on one of the mossy mounds. He stood before her, holding both the horses’ bridles in his hand. She lifted her eyes to him… . ‘Sanin, are you able to forget?’ Sanin recollected what had happened yesterday … in the carriage. ‘What is that – a question … or a reproach?’ ‘I have never in my life reproached any one for anything. Do you believe in magic?’ ‘What?’ ‘In magic? – you know what is sung of in our ballads – our Russian peasant ballads?’ ‘Ah! That’s what you’re speaking of,’ Sanin said slowly. ‘Yes, that’s it. I believe in it … and you will believe in it.’ ‘Magic is sorcery … ’ Sanin repeated, ‘Anything in the world is possible. I used not to believe in it – but I do now. I don’t know myself.’ Maria Nikolaevna thought a moment and looked about her. ‘I fancy this place seems familiar to me. Look, Sanin, behind that bushy oak – is there a red wooden cross, or not?’ Sanin moved a few steps to one side. ‘Yes, there is.’ Maria Nikolaevna smiled. ‘Ah, that’s good! I know where we are. We haven’t got lost as yet. What’s that tapping? A wood-cutter?’ Sanin looked into the thicket. ‘Yes … there’s a man there chopping up dry branches.’ ‘I must put my hair to rights,’ said Maria Nikolaevna. ‘Else he’ll see me and be shocked.’ She took off her hat and began plaiting up her long hair, silently and seriously. Sanin stood facing her … All the lines of her graceful limbs could be clearly seen through the dark folds of her habit, dotted here and there with tufts of moss. One of the horses suddenly shook itself behind Sanin’s back; he himself started and trembled from head to foot. Everything was in confusion within him, his nerves were strung up like harpstrings. He might well say he did not know himself… . He really was bewitched. His whole 125
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The Torrents Of Spring Turgenev, Iv
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‘Years of gladness, Days of joy,
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I It was the summer of 1840. Sanin
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‘But meanwhile Emil will die!’
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‘He is saved, mother, he is alive
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Roselli pointed to his portrait, pa
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much ado and accompanying himself w
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illustrissimo maestro Rossini - in
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‘The whole fare!’ Sanin said do
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VIII He had not finished dressing,
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IX Emil, who had continued to stand
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presence of the ladies of the house
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XI The bell tinkled at the outer do
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XII It appeared that Gemma was not
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carrying with him the image of the
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powerful whiff of the most refined
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mirthfulness of the company; he beg
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muttered something unintelligible,
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embarrassed by his presence - Gemma
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and all that’s left is that I am
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XVIII An hour later the waiter came
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single-triggered and not rifle-barr
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to leave off, and for the first tim
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XX It was bright starlight when he
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XXI It was quite morning when he fe
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‘Your return,’ moaned Emil - an
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The old man looked dejectedly at hi
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arm with Baron Dönhof. And afterwa
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XXIII He slept for some hours witho
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you… .’ And Frau Lenore half ro
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‘Oh, come! I have not been expose
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‘Very well,’ said Gemma. ‘If
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that I cannot give you any advice
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XXVI At eight o’clock next mornin
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morning, in one of the public garde
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to say, which could compare, in imp
Page 73 and 74: XXVIII Sanin walked along, at one t
Page 75 and 76: ‘But, Gemma,’ cried Sanin, ‘d
Page 77 and 78: XXIX If Gemma had announced that sh
Page 79 and 80: XXX The transition from despair to
Page 81 and 82: ‘Come, that’s nonsense, nonsens
Page 83 and 84: XXXI Sanin woke up very early. He f
Page 85 and 86: ordered with intense care a very la
Page 87 and 88: ‘There’s one means,’ Polozov
Page 89 and 90: argaining with her. I shall tell he
Page 91 and 92: XXXIII It takes less than an hour i
Page 93 and 94: flew up another man, also very well
Page 95 and 96: But Gemma’s image preserved Sanin
Page 97 and 98: XXXV The free and easy deportment o
Page 99 and 100: ‘I should be satisfied with a few
Page 101 and 102: XXXVI Long after midnight the lamp
Page 103 and 104: avenues of the park, now mounting a
Page 105 and 106: XXXVII Sanin proceeded to expound h
Page 107 and 108: XXXVIII Oh, what a deep sigh of del
Page 109 and 110: much as her diamonds; she seemed in
Page 111 and 112: XXXIX In the year 1840, the theatre
Page 113 and 114: Maria Nikolaevna suddenly turned to
Page 115 and 116: ‘Yes, Dimitri Pavlovitch,’ she
Page 117 and 118: XL The play lasted over an hour lon
Page 119 and 120: faith in its pressure. What sort of
Page 121 and 122: She seemed so happy that Sanin was
Page 123: XLII This track soon changed into a
Page 127 and 128: The same day, two hours later, Sani
Page 129 and 130: that smile he knows already, the sm
Page 131 and 132: probably know her husband’s addre
Page 133 and 134: We will not attempt to describe the
Page 135 and 136: continues today to seem as fresh an
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The Torrents Of Spring

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