6

HE did not notice that Zakhar served him a perfectly cold dinner, nor did he notice how after dinner he found himself in bed and fell fast asleep. The following day he was dismayed at the thought of going to see Olga. That was impossible! He imagined vividly how significantly they would all look at him. The hall porter, as it was, met him in a particularly kindly way. Semyon rushed headlong to fetch a glass of water whenever he asked for one. Katya and the nurse saw him off with a friendly smile. «Her fiancé, her fiancé!» was written on all their faces, but he had not yet asked her aunt’s consent, he hadn’t a penny, and he did not know when he would have any, or what his income from the estate would be this year; there was no house in the country – some fiancé! He decided that until he received definite news from the country he would see Olga only on Sundays in the presence of witnesses. On the following morning he consequently did not think of getting ready to go to Olga’s. He did not shave or dress, but lazily turned over the pages of some French journals he had brought from the Ilyinskys’ the week before; he did not keep looking incessantly at the clock and did not frown because the hand did not move forward fast enough. Zakhar and Anisya thought that he would be dining out as usual and did not ask him what he would like for dinner. He scolded them sharply, declaring that he did not dine at the Ilyinskys’ every Wednesday, that it was «slander», that he sometimes dined at Ivan Gerasimovich’s, and that in future he would always have his dinners at home, except on Sundays, and not every Sunday, either. Anisya immediately rushed off to the market to buy giblets for Oblomov’s favourite soup. The landlady’s children came in to see him: he corrected Vanya’s sums and found two mistakes. He ruled Masha’s copybook and wrote large As, then he listened to the singing of the canaries and looked through the half-open door at the landlady’s rapidly moving elbows. Soon after one o’clock the landlady asked him from behind the door if he would like something to eat: she had been baking cheese-cakes. Cheese-cakes and a glass of currant vodka were placed before him. Oblomov’s agitation somewhat subsided, and he fell into a state of dull torpor in which he remained till dinner. After dinner, when lying down on the sofa he began nodding, overcome by drowsiness, the door leading into the landlady’s rooms opened and Agafya Matveyevna appeared, with two pyramids of socks in each hand. She put them down on two chairs, and Oblomov jumped up and offered her the third one, but she did not sit down; it was not her habit: she was always on her feet, always busy and bustling about.

«I’ve been sorting out your socks to-day», she said. «Fifty-five pairs, and almost all need darning».

«How kind you are!» Oblomov said, walking up to her and taking hold of her elbows playfully.

She smiled. «Why should you trouble?» he said. «It really makes me feel ashamed».

«It’s nothing», she replied. «It’s my job to look after these things. You’ve got no one to sort them out, and I like doing it. Twenty pairs are no good at all: it’s not worth while darning them».

«Please don’t trouble. Throw them all away. Why waste your time with this rubbish? I can buy new ones…»

«Why throw them away? These can all be mended», and she began quickly to count the socks that could still be mended.

«But sit down, please», he offered her a chair again. «Why do you stand?»

«No, thank you very much, I really have no time», she said, refusing the chair again. «It’s my washing day, and I have to get the clothes ready».

«You’re a real wonder, and not a housekeeper!» he said, fixing his gaze on her neck and bosom.

She smiled.

«So what shall I do?» she asked. «Darn the socks or not? I’ll order some wool. An old woman brings it to us from the country. It’s not worth while buying it here: it’s such poor stuff».

«Yes, do by all means, since you are so kind», said Oblomov. «Only I really am ashamed to be giving you so much trouble».

«Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve nothing else to do, have I? These I will re-foot myself, and those I’ll give to Granny. My sister-in-law is coming to stay with us to-morrow, we shan’t have anything to do in the evenings, and we’ll mend them. My Masha is already learning to knit, only she keeps dropping the stitches: the needles are too big for her little hands».

«Is Masha already beginning to knit?» asked Oblomov.

«Yes, indeed».

«I don’t know how to thank you», said Oblomov. He looked at her with the same pleasure with which he had looked at her hot cheese-cakes that morning. «I am very, very grateful to you and I will not remain in your debt, especially not in Masha’s. I’ll buy her silk frocks and dress her up like a little doll».

«Why, you mustn’t think of it! You’ve nothing to be grateful to me for. What does she want silk dresses for? She never has enough cotton ones: she wears things out so quickly, especially her shoes: we can’t buy them fast enough in the market».

She took up the socks and was about to leave the room.

«Why are you in such a hurry?» he said. «Do sit down, I’m not busy».

«Some other time, on a holiday; and you, please, come and have coffee with us. I’m sorry, but it’s washing day and I must go and see if Akulina has begun».

«Oh, well, I must not detain you», said Oblomov, looking at her elbows and back.

«I also got your dressing-gown out of the box-room», she went on. «It can be washed and mended: such nice material! It’s good for many more years!»

«There was no need for it. I’m not wearing it any more, I’m afraid; it’s no use to me».

«Well, never mind, let them wash it: perhaps you will wear it one day – when you are married!» she finished, smiling and shutting the door behind her.

His sleepiness suddenly left him. He pricked up his ears and opened his eyes wide.

«She, too, knows about it – everybody knows about it!» he said, sitting down on the chair he had offered the landlady. «Oh, Zakhar, Zakhar!»

Again a flood of «pathetic» words was let loose on Zakhar, again Anisya’s nose was set in motion as she assured him that it was the first time she had heard the landlady speak about the wedding, that she never breathed a word about it in her talks with the landlady, that there was no question of any wedding, and, indeed, the whole thing was impossible. The whole thing, she opined, must have been invented by the common enemy of mankind, and as for her, she was ready to sink through the ground, and the landlady was also ready to take the icon off the wall and take an oath that she had never heard of the Ilyinsky young lady, and was thinking of someone else… Anisya went on and on, so that in the end he had to wave her out of the room. Next day Zakhar asked if he might go and see some of his friends in Gorokhovaya Street, but Oblomov told him off so effectively that he was glad to get out of the room.

«They don’t know anything about it, so you must spread the slanderous story there. Stay at home!» Oblomov added sternly.

Wednesday passed. On Thursday Oblomov received another letter from Olga, asking what it all meant, what had happened, and why he had not come. She wrote that she had cried all the evening and hardly slept all night.

«She cries, she can’t sleep, my angel!» Oblomov exclaimed. «Lord, why does she love me? Why do I love her? Why did we meet? It’s all Andrey’s fault: he inoculated me with love as with a vaccine. And what sort of a life is it? All the time worries and anxieties! When at last am I to get rest and peaceful happiness?»

Sighing loudly, he lay down, got up, and even went out into the street, intent on trying to discover what was the right way to live a life which would be full and yet would go on quietly day after day, drop by drop, in mute contemplation of nature and slow, scarcely moving events of a peaceful busy family life. He did not want to think of it as a broad river, rushing along noisily with boiling waves, as Stolz thought of it.

«It is a disease», Oblomov said, «a fever, rushing over rapids, with burst dams and floods».

He wrote to Olga that he had caught a slight cold in the Summer Gardens, had had to drink a decoction and stay indoors for two days, that it had now passed and he hoped to see her on Sunday. She wrote back praising him for having been careful, advising him to stay in on Sunday, too, if necessary, adding that she did not mind being bored for a week provided he took care of himself. The letter was brought by Nikita, the same Nikita who, according to Anisya, was chiefly responsible for the gossip. He brought some new books from Olga, who wanted Oblomov to read them and tell her when they met whether they were worth reading. She asked how he was, and after writing an answer, Oblomov gave it to Nikita, and having seen him off, he followed him with his eyes to the gate to make sure he did not stray into the kitchen and repeat the «slanderous» story there or that Zakhar did not see him off into the street. He was glad of Olga’s suggestion that he should take care and not come on Sunday, and he wrote to say that for a complete recovery it was really necessary for him to stay indoors for a few more days. On Sunday he paid a visit to the landlady, drank coffee, ate hot pie, and sent Zakhar across the river for ice-cream and sweets for the children at dinner. Zakhar returned across the river with some difficulty: the bridges had been removed, the Neva being on the point of freezing. Oblomov could not possibly go to Olga’s on Wednesday, either. Of course, he could have rushed at once across the river, stayed for a few days at Ivan Gerasimovich’s and visited Olga every day, even dined there. He had a quite legitimate excuse: the Neva had caught him while he was on the other side and he could not get across. Oblomov’s first impulse was to do this, and he had already lowered his feet from his bed, but after a moment’s reflection he slowly resumed his recumbent position, with a sigh and a preoccupied air. «No, let the gossip die down and let the people who visit Olga’s house forget me a little and meet me there again daily only after the official announcement of our engagement. It’s a bore to wait», he added with a sigh, taking up Olga’s books, «but it can’t be helped». He read some fifteen pages. Masha came to ask whether he would like to come and watch the river freezing over: everyone was going. He went and came back for tea. So the days passed. Oblomov was bored; he read, went for walks, and when he was at home he looked through the landlady’s door to exchange a few words with her to pass the time. He even ground three pounds of coffee for her one day, and with such zeal that his forehead was covered in perspiration. He tried to give her a book to read. She read the title to herself, moving her lips slowly, and returned the book, declaring that she would borrow it at Christmas and make Vanya read it aloud, and then Granny would listen too, but she was too busy at present.

Meanwhile, a plank footway was laid across the Neva, and one day the dog’s desperate barking and jumping on the chain announced Nikita’s second visit, with a note inquiring after Oblomov’s health, and a book. Oblomov, afraid that he might have to cross the river over the planks, hid from Nikita, writing to Olga that he had a small swelling in his throat, that he was still uncertain whether he ought to go out and that «cruel fate deprived him of seeing his precious Olga for a few more days». He gave strict orders to Zakhar not to talk to Nikita and again followed Olga’s footman to the gate with his eyes, and shook a minatory finger at Anisya when she poked her nose out of the kitchen and wanted to ask Nikita something.