The Torrents Of Spring

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monsters separates itself off from the darkness, rises higher and higher, stands out more and more distinct, more and more loathsomely distinct… . An instant yet, and the boat that bears him will be overturned! But behold, it grows dim again, it withdraws, sinks down to the bottom, and there it lies, faintly stirring in the slime… . But the fated day will come, and it will overturn the boat. He shook his head, jumped up from his low chair, took two turns up and down the room, sat down to the writing-table, and opening one drawer after another, began to rummage among his papers, among old letters, mostly from women. He could not have said why he was doing it; he was not looking for anything – he simply wanted by some kind of external occupation to get away from the thoughts oppressing him. Opening several letters at random (in one of them there was a withered flower tied with a bit of faded ribbon), he merely shrugged his shoulders, and glancing at the hearth, he tossed them on one side, probably with the idea of burning all this useless rubbish. Hurriedly, thrusting his hands first into one, and then into another drawer, he suddenly opened his eyes wide, and slowly bringing out a little octagonal box of old-fashioned make, he slowly raised its lid. In the box, under two layers of cotton wool, yellow with age, was a little garnet cross. For a few instants he looked in perplexity at this cross – suddenly he gave a faint cry… . Something between regret and delight was expressed in his features. Such an expression a man’s face wears when he suddenly meets some one whom he has long lost sight of, whom he has at one time tenderly loved, and who suddenly springs up before his eyes, still the same, and utterly transformed by the years. He got up, and going back to the hearth, he sat down again in the armchair, and again hid his face in his hands… . ‘Why to-day? just to-day?’ was his thought, and he remembered many things, long since past. This is what he remembered… . But first I must mention his name, his father’s name and his surname. He was called Dimitri Pavlovitch Sanin. Here follows what he remembered. 4
I It was the summer of 1840. Sanin was in his twenty-second year, and he was in Frankfort on his way home from Italy to Russia. He was a man of small property, but independent, almost without family ties. By the death of a distant relative, he had come into a few thousand roubles, and he had decided to spend this sum abroad before entering the service, before finally putting on the government yoke, without which he could not obtain a secure livelihood. Sanin had carried out this intention, and had fitted things in to such a nicety that on the day of his arrival in Frankfort he had only just enough money left to take him back to Petersburg. In the year 1840 there were few railroads in existence; tourists travelled by diligence. Sanin had taken a place in the ‘bei-wagon’; but the diligence did not start till eleven o’clock in the evening. <strong>The</strong>re was a great deal of time to be got through before then. Fortunately it was lovely weather, and Sanin after dining at a hotel, famous in those days, the White Swan, set off to stroll about the town. He went in to look at Danneker’s Ariadne, which he did not much care for, visited the house of Goethe, of whose works he had, however, only read Werter, and that in the French translation. He walked along the bank of the Maine, and was bored as a wellconducted tourist should be; at last at six o’clock in the evening, tired, and with dusty boots, he found himself in one of the least remarkable streets in Frankfort. That street he was fated not to forget long, long after. On one of its few houses he saw a signboard: ‘Giovanni Roselli, Italian confectionery’, was announced upon it. Sanin went into it to get a glass of lemonade; but in the shop, where, behind the modest counter, on the shelves of a stained cupboard, recalling a chemist’s shop, stood a few bottles with gold labels, and as many glass jars of biscuits, chocolate cakes, and sweetmeats – in this room, there was not a soul; only a grey cat blinked and purred, sharpening its claws on a tall wicker chair near the window and a bright patch of colour was made in the evening sunlight, by a big ball of red wool lying on the floor beside a carved wooden basket turned upside down. A confused noise was audible in the next room. Sanin stood a moment, and making the bell on the door ring its loudest, he called, raising his voice, ‘Is there no one here?’ At that instant the door from an inner room was thrown open, and Sanin was struck dumb with amazement. 5
Page 1 and 2: The Torrents Of Spring Turgenev, Iv
Page 3: ‘Years of gladness, Days of joy,
Page 7 and 8: ‘But meanwhile Emil will die!’
Page 9 and 10: ‘He is saved, mother, he is alive
Page 11 and 12: Roselli pointed to his portrait, pa
Page 13 and 14: much ado and accompanying himself w
Page 15 and 16: illustrissimo maestro Rossini - in
Page 17 and 18: ‘The whole fare!’ Sanin said do
Page 19 and 20: VIII He had not finished dressing,
Page 21 and 22: IX Emil, who had continued to stand
Page 23 and 24: presence of the ladies of the house
Page 25 and 26: XI The bell tinkled at the outer do
Page 27 and 28: XII It appeared that Gemma was not
Page 29 and 30: carrying with him the image of the
Page 31 and 32: powerful whiff of the most refined
Page 33 and 34: mirthfulness of the company; he beg
Page 35 and 36: muttered something unintelligible,
Page 37 and 38: embarrassed by his presence - Gemma
Page 39 and 40: and all that’s left is that I am
Page 41 and 42: XVIII An hour later the waiter came
Page 43 and 44: single-triggered and not rifle-barr
Page 45 and 46: to leave off, and for the first tim
Page 47 and 48: XX It was bright starlight when he
Page 49 and 50: XXI It was quite morning when he fe
Page 51 and 52: ‘Your return,’ moaned Emil - an
Page 53 and 54: The old man looked dejectedly at hi
Page 55 and 56:
arm with Baron Dönhof. And afterwa
Page 57 and 58:
XXIII He slept for some hours witho
Page 59 and 60:
you… .’ And Frau Lenore half ro
Page 61 and 62:
‘Oh, come! I have not been expose
Page 63 and 64:
‘Very well,’ said Gemma. ‘If
Page 65 and 66:
that I cannot give you any advice
Page 67 and 68:
XXVI At eight o’clock next mornin
Page 69 and 70:
morning, in one of the public garde
Page 71 and 72:
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 and 124:
XLII This track soon changed into a
Page 125 and 126:
and plunged into a rather narrow go
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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