Short Fiction, Leo Tolstoy [general ebook reader .txt] 📗

deal afterwards, mais j’avais surtout, you know, ce jargon du monde;87 and, whatever the cause, I was considered one of the leading young men in Petersburg. What raised me most in the general estimation, c’est cette liaison avec Mme. D⁠⸺⁠,88 which was much talked of in Petersburg. But I was awfully young at the time, and set little value on these advantages. I was simply young and foolish. What more did I need? At that time in Petersburg that fellow Metenin had a reputation⁠ ⁠…” And Guskov continued in this manner to tell me the story of his misfortune, which, being quite uninteresting, I shall here omit.

“Two months,” continued he, “I was under arrest and quite alone. I don’t know what did not pass through my mind in that time; but, do you know, when it was all over, when it seemed as if every link with the past was severed, it became easier for me. Mon père, vous en avez entendu parler89 surely: he is a man with an iron will and firm convictions; il m’a déshérité,90 and ceased all intercourse with me. According to his convictions it was the proper thing to do, and I do not blame him at all; il a été conséquent.91 And I also did not take a step to induce him to change his mind. My sister was abroad. Mme. D⁠⸺ was the only one who wrote to me when letters were allowed, and she offered me help; but you will understand that I could not accept it, so that I had none of those trifles which somewhat mitigate such a position, you know⁠—no books, no linen, no private food, nothing. Many, very many thoughts passed through my brain at that time, and I began to look at everything with other eyes; for instance, all that noise and gossip about me in Petersburg society no longer interested or flattered me in the least; it all seemed ridiculous. I felt I was myself to blame; I had been careless and young and had spoilt my career, and my only thought was how to retrieve it. And I felt I had strength and energy enough to do it. After my arrest was over, I was, as I told you, sent to the Caucasus to the N⁠⸺ Regiment.

“I thought that here, in the Caucasus,” he continued, growing more and more animated, “la vie de camp,92 the simple, honest men with whom I should be in contact, the war, the dangers⁠—all this would just suit my frame of mind, and I thought I should begin life anew. On me verra au feu93⁠—people would like me, would respect me not for my name only; then I should receive a cross, become a noncommissioned officer, and at last be pardoned, and should return, et, vous savez, avec ce prestige du malheur!94 But quel désenchantement!95 You can’t think how I was mistaken!⁠ ⁠… You know the officer set of our regiment?” He paused for some time, probably expecting me to say that I knew how bad the society of officers here is; but I did not reply to him. I was disgusted that⁠—on account, no doubt, of my knowing French⁠—he should suppose that I ought to despise the officer set, which, on the contrary, I, having lived long in the Caucasus, had fully learnt to appreciate, and which I esteemed a thousand times more than the society Mr. Guskov had left. I wished to tell him so, but his position restrained me.

“In the N⁠⸺ Regiment the officer set is a thousand times worse than here,” he continued⁠—“J’espère que c’est beaucoup dire96⁠—so that you can’t imagine what it is like! Not to mention the cadets and the soldiers⁠—it is just awful! At first I was well received, that’s perfectly true, but afterwards, when they saw I couldn’t help despising them⁠—when in those scarcely noticeable everyday relations, you know, they saw that I was a totally different sort of man, standing on a far higher level than they⁠—they were exasperated with me, and began to retaliate by subjecting me to all kinds of petty indignities. Ce que j’ai eu à souffrir, vous ne vous faites pas une idée.97 Then, being obliged to associate with the cadets; and, above all, avec les petits moyens que j’avais, je manquais de tout,98 I had only what my sister sent me. A proof of what I have suffered is that I, with my character, avec ma fierté, j’ai écris à mon père,99 imploring him to send me something, however little.⁠ ⁠… I can understand how, after five years of such a life, one may become like our cashiered officer, Dromov, who drinks with the soldiers and writes notes to all the officers begging them to lend him three rubles, and signs himself, ‘Tout à vous Dromov.’ One needs a character like mine in order not to sink quite into the mire in this terrible position.” He then walked silently by my side for a long time. “Avez-vous un papiros?”100 he said at last. “Yes⁠ ⁠… where had I got to? Oh yes, I could not stand it. I don’t mean physically, for although it was bad enough and I suffered from cold and hunger and lived like a soldier, yet the officers still had a sort of regard for me. I still had a kind of prestige in their eyes. They did not send me to do sentry duty or drill. I could not have borne that. But morally I suffered terribly, and, above all, I could see no escape from this position. I wrote to my uncle imploring