7

A WEEK passed. Getting up in the morning, Oblomov first of all inquired anxiously whether the bridges had been put back.

«Not yet», he was told, and he spent the day peacefully listening to the ticking of the clock, the rattling of the coffee mill, and the singing of the canaries. The chicks no longer chirped; they had long ago grown into middle-aged hens and were hiding in their hen-houses. He had not had time to read the books Olga had sent him: having read as far as the hundred and fifth page of one book, he put it away face downwards, and so it lay for several days. Instead he spent more time with the landlady’s children. Vanya was such an intelligent boy, he memorized the capital cities of Europe in three lessons, and Oblomov promised to buy him a small globe as soon as he went to the other side of the river; and little Masha hemmed three handkerchiefs for him – badly, it is true, but how amusingly she worked with her tiny little hands, running to show him every inch of her work. He talked to his landlady incessantly every time he caught sight of her elbows through the half-open door. He could tell by the movements of her elbows what she was doing, whether she was sieving, grinding, or ironing. He even tried to talk to Granny, but she never could finish a conversation: she would stop halfway through a word, lean against a wall with her fist, bent double, and begin coughing, as though she were doing some hard work, then she would utter a groan, and that was the end of the conversation. The landlady’s brother alone he never saw; he caught a glimpse of him rushing past the window with the large parcel, but he never heard anything of him in the house. Even when Oblomov accidentally entered the room where they were all having dinner, huddled together for lack of space, the landlady’s brother quickly wiped his lips with his fingers and disappeared into his attic.

One morning, as soon as Oblomov woke up without a care in the world and began drinking his coffee, Zakhar suddenly announced that the bridges had been put back. Oblomov’s heart missed a beat.

«It’s Sunday to-morrow», he said to himself. «I’ll have to go to Olga’s, manfully endure all day the significant glances of all sorts of curious strangers, then tell her when I intend to talk to her aunt».

And he was still in the position where he found it absolutely impossible to move an inch forward. He imagined vividly how their engagement would be announced, how all sorts of ladies and gentlemen would arrive the next day and the day after that, how he would suddenly become an object of curiosity, how his health would be drunk at the dinner specially given to celebrate his engagement to Olga. Then – as Olga’s fiancé he would be expected to buy her a present.

«A present!» he said to himself in horror and burst out laughing bitterly. A present! And he had only 200 roubles in his pocket! Even if his money arrived, it would not be before Christmas, and perhaps later, after the corn had been sold, and when that would be, how much corn there was and what it would fetch – all that the letter would explain, and there was no letter. So what on earth was he to do? Farewell, his fortnight’s rest! And amid these worries he saw Olga’s beautiful face, her fluffy expressive eyebrows, her intelligent, grey-blue eyes, her sweet head, and her plait of hair, which was so long that it accentuated the noble proportions of her figure, from her head to her shoulders and waist. But no sooner did he begin to quiver with love than he was crushed by the thought: what was he to do, how was he to tackle the question of marriage, where was he to get the money, and what were they to live on afterwards?…

«I will wait a little longer; perhaps the letter will come tomorrow or the day after», and he began to calculate when his letter could have arrived in the country, how long his neighbour would take over his reply, and how long the answer would take to reach him. «It must come in another three or at most four days – I’ll go to Olga’s a little later», he decided, «particularly as she can hardly be expected to know whether the bridges have been put back or not».

«Katya, have the bridges been put back?» Olga asked her maid as soon as she woke that morning.

And this question was repeated every day. Oblomov did not suspect it.

«I don’t know, miss. I haven’t seen the coachman or the caretaker to-day, and Nikita does not know».

«You never can answer my questions!» Olga said with displeasure, examining the chain round her neck as she lay in bed.

«I’ll find out at once, miss. I didn’t dare to go out, thinking that you would wake, or I’d have run down long ago».

And Katya disappeared from the room. Olga opened the drawer of her bedside table and took out Oblomov’s last note. «He’s ill, the poor darling», she thought anxiously. «He is alone there, he is bored… Oh dear, how much longer…» She had not finished the sentence when Katya, all flushed, flew into the room.

«They were put back last night!» she cried joyfully, caught Olga, who had jumped out of bed, in her arms, threw her dressing-gown round her, and helped her into her tiny slippers. Olga quickly opened a box, took something out of it, and put it in Katya’s hand. Katya kissed her hand. All this – her jumping out of bed, the coin dropped into Katya’s hand and Katya’s kiss – happened in one minute. «Oh, to-morrow’s Sunday: how lucky! He’ll be coming!» thought Olga. She dressed quickly, had her breakfast, and went shopping with her aunt.

«Let’s go to Mass at Smolny to-morrow, Auntie», she begged.

Her aunt screwed up her eyes, thought it over, then said:

«Very well, only it’s so far, my dear! Why do you want to go there in winter?»

Olga wanted to go there simply because Oblomov had pointed out the church to her from the river, and she wished to pray there – for him, that he should be well, that he should love her, that he should be happy with her, that – this uncertainty and indecision should end as soon as possible. Poor Olga!

Sunday came. Olga somehow contrived that the dinner should – be to Oblomov’s liking. She put on her white dress, concealed under the lace the bracelet he had given her, did her hair in the way he liked; she had arranged for the piano to be tuned the day before, and in the morning tried singing Casta diva. Her voice had not sounded so well since her return from the country. Then she waited.

The baron, who found her waiting for Oblomov, said that she looked again as pretty as in summer, but that she was a little thinner.

«The lack of country air and the slightly irregular mode of life have perceptibly affected you», he said. «What you need, my dear Olga, is the country and the air of the fields».

He kissed her hand a few times, his dyed moustache leaving a little stain on her fingers.

«Yes, the country», she replied wistfully, not to him but speaking into space to someone else.

«A propos of the country», he added. «Your lawsuit will be finished next month, and in April you will be able to leave for your estate. It is not big, but the situation is wonderful! You will be pleased. What a house! What a garden! There’s a pavilion on a hill – you will love it I The view of the river – you don’t remember it, do you? You were only five when your father left the estate and took you away».

«Oh, how glad I shall be!» she said, and sank into thought.

«Now it’s settled», she decided, «we’ll go there, but he won’t find out about it till…»

«Next month, baron?» she asked quickly. «Are you sure?»

«I’m as sure of that as I am of the fact that you are beautiful, and especially to-day», he said, and went to her aunt.

Olga did not stir from her place, dreaming of the happiness that was so near, but she decided not to tell Oblomov her news and her plans for the future. She intended to watch to the end the change love wrought in Oblomov’s lazy soul, to see how the great weight would lift from him, how he would not be able finally to resist the prospect of happiness, how he would receive a favourable reply from the country and, radiant with joy, would rush to her and put it at her feet, and how both of them would run to her aunt, and then – Then she would suddenly tell him that she too had an estate, a garden, a pavilion, a view of the river and a house that was ready to live in, that they must go there first and then to Oblomovka. «No», she thought, «I don’t want a favourable reply, for he will put on airs and won’t even feel glad that I have an estate of my own, a house, a garden. No, I’d rather he came looking upset by a disagreeable letter with the news that his estate was in a bad way and that he had to go there himself. He’d rush headlong off to Oblomovka, hastily make all the necessary arrangements, forget to see to a great many things, be unable to do many others, do everything just anyhow, rush back, and suddenly discover that it had not been necessary for him to go at all – that she had a house, a garden, and a pavilion with a view, that they had a place where they could live without bothering about his Oblomovka… No, no, she was not going to tell him; she would hold out to the end. Let him go to his estate, let him bestir himself, let him come to life – for her alone, in the name of their future happiness. Oh – no! Why should she send him to his estate? Why should they part? No – when, all dressed for the journey, he – pale and woebegone – came to say good-bye to her, she would tell him suddenly that there was no need for him to go till summer, that they would go together then…»

So she dreamed on, and she ran to the baron and skilfully suggested to him that he should not reveal the news to anyone, absolutely not to anyone. By anyone she had only Oblomov in mind.

«Very well; why should I?» he agreed. «Except perhaps to Mr Oblomov, if the subject should be mentioned».

Olga restrained herself and said unconcernedly:

«No, please, don’t tell him, either».

«Oh, all right; you know your will is law so far as I’m concerned», the baron added gallantly.

She was not without guile. If she wanted very much to look at Oblomov when other people were present, she would first look at two or three other people and only then at him. How much thought – and all for Oblomov. How many times had her cheeks begun to bum! How many times did she touch this or that key of the piano to see if it had not been tuned too high, or shifted the music from one place to another! And he did not come! What could it mean? Three o’clock. Four o’clock – he wasn’t there! At half-past four she began visibly to wilt – her beauty was gone, her bloom faded, and she sat down at the table looking pale. No one seemed to have noticed anything, they were all eating the dishes which had been prepared for him, and talking cheerfully and unconcernedly. After dinner, in the evening – still he did not come. Till ten o’clock she fluctuated between hope and fear; at ten o’clock she went to her room. At first she vented on him all the bitterness that had accumulated in her heart; there was no word too sarcastic or too spiteful in her vocabulary for her to hurl it accusingly at his head. Then she felt suddenly as though her body were on fire and then turned cold as ice. «He is ill, alone – he cannot even write», it flashed through her head. This conviction took complete possession of her and kept her awake all night. She fell into a feverish slumber for a couple of hours, was delirious in the night, but got up in the morning calm and resolute, though pale.

On Monday morning the landlady looked into Oblomov’s study and said:

«Some girl is asking for you».

«Me? Impossible!» replied Oblomov. «Where is she?»

«She’s here. She came to our door by mistake. Shall I show her in?»

Oblomov had hardly time to make up his mind when Katya appeared before him. The landlady went out.

«Katya!» Oblomov cried in surprise. «Is it you? What’s the matter?»

«Miss Olga is outside», Katya said in a whisper. «She has sent me to ask».

Oblomov turned pale.

«Miss Olga!» he whispered in horror. «It can’t be true, Katya. You’re joking, aren’t you? Please, don’t torture me!»

«It is true, sir. She’s waiting in a hired carriage near the tea- shop. She wants to come here. She sent me to tell you to send Zakhar away. She’ll be here in half an hour».

«I’d better go and see her myself. She can’t possibly come here, can she?» said Oblomov.

«You won’t have time, sir. She may come in any minute. She thinks you’re not well. Good-bye, I must rim. My mistress is waiting for me – she’s alone…»

And she went away.

Oblomov put on his boots, waistcoat, and tie with extraordinary rapidity and called Zakhar.

«Zakhar», Oblomov said with feverish agitation, «the other day you asked my permission to go and see your friends in Gorokhovaya Street, didn’t you? Well, you may go now!»

«I won’t go, sir», Zakhar replied emphatically.

«Oh yes, you will!» Oblomov persisted.

«I can’t go visiting people on weekdays, can I? I won’t go», Zakhar said obstinately.

«Go and have a good time. Don’t be obstinate when your master does you a favour and lets you off – go and see your friends!»

«I don’t care about my friends, sir!»

«But don’t you want to see them?»

«No, sir. They’re all such rascals that every time I see them I never want to see them again!»

«Go – go for goodness’ sake!» Oblomov kept repeating insistently, and the blood rushed to his face.

«No, sir», Zakhar replied unconcernedly. «I’ll stay all day at home to-day, but on Sunday, sir, I’d be glad to go out».

«You’re going now – at once!» Oblomov hurried him agitatedly. «You must…»

«But why should I go all that way for nothing?»

«Well, just go for a walk for a couple of hours. Look at that sleepy face of yours – you want some fresh air!»

«There’s nothing wrong with my face, sir», Zakhar said, looking lazily out of the window. «It’s the right sort of face for the likes of me».

«Goodness me», Oblomov thought, mopping his brow, «she’s sure to be here any moment».

«Please go for a walk, Zakhar, I beg you. Here, take twenty copecks and go and have a drink with one of your pals».

«I’d rather sit down on the front steps, sir. I can’t go for a walk in the frost, can I? I could sit down at the gate, of course. I don’t mind doing that».

«No», Oblomov said quickly, «you must go farther than the gate. Go to another street – to the left – over there, towards the park – across the river».

«What’s up?» Zakhar thought. «Driving me out for a walk! It’s never happened before!»

«I’d rather wait till Sunday, sir!»

«Are you going or not?» Oblomov said through clenched teeth, advancing upon Zakhar.

Zakhar disappeared and Oblomov called Anisya.

«Go to the market», he said to her, «and buy something for dinner».

«But, sir, everything has been bought for dinner, and it’ll soon be ready», the nose began to expostulate.

«Shut up and listen!» Oblomov shouted so peremptorily that Anisya was frightened.

«Buy – well, some asparagus», he said, trying to think of something to send her for.

«But, sir, asparagus is out of season – you will never find any there…»

«Be off!» he shouted, and she ran off. «Run there as fast as you can», he shouted after her, «and don’t look round, and when coming back walk as slowly as possible and don’t show your nose here for two hours».

«That’s a funny business and no mistake», Zakhar said to Anisya, running across her at the gate. «He has sent me for a walk and given me twenty copecks. Where does he think I can go walking?»

«He’s your master and he has a right to tell you what to do», the sharp-witted Anisya observed. «You’d better go to Artemy, the count’s coachman, and treat him to tea: he is always treating you, and I’ll run down to the market».

«What a funny idea, Artemy!» Zakhar said to the coachman. «Master has told me to go for a walk and given me money for a drink…»

«Are you sure he’s not intending to get drunk himself?» Artemy remarked wittily. «He gave you something so that you shouldn’t envy him. Come on!»

He winked at Zakhar and motioned with his head to a certain street.

«Come on», Zakhar repeated, motioning towards the same street. «Dear, dear», he wheezed to himself with a grin, «fancy sending me out for a walk!»

They went away, but Anisya ran to the first crossroads, squatted down in a ditch behind a fence, and waited to see what happened.

Oblomov listened intently and waited. Someone took hold of the iron ring of the gate and at the same moment the dog began barking desperately and jumping on the chain.

«Damn the dog!» Oblomov muttered, grinding his teeth.

He snatched up his cap and rushed out to the front gate, opened it, and brought Olga to the front steps almost in his arms. She was alone. Katya was waiting for her in the carriage not far from the gate.

«Are you well? You’re not in bed? What is the matter with you?» she asked quickly, without taking off her coat or hat and looking him up and down when she came into his study.

«I’m better now, my throat is – er – almost well», he said, touching his throat and coughing a little.

«Why didn’t you come yesterday?» she asked, casting so inquisitorial a glance at him that he could not utter a word.

«How could you do a thing like this, Olga?» he said in horror. «Do you know what you are doing?»

«We’ll discuss that later!» she interrupted him impatiently. «I ask you, what’s the meaning of your keeping away from me?»

He made no answer.

«You haven’t got a stye, have you?» she asked.

He made no answer.

«You haven’t been ill», she said, knitting her brows. «There was nothing wrong with your throat».

«No, I haven’t», replied Oblomov in the voice of a schoolboy.

«You’ve deceived me!» she cried, looking at him in astonishment. «Why?»

«I can explain everything, Olga». He tried to justify himself. «An important reason forced me to stay away from you for a fortnight – I was afraid of…»

«Of – what?» she asked, sitting down and taking off her hat and coat.

He took both from her and put them on the sofa.

«Talk, gossip…»

«But you were not afraid of my spending sleepless nights, imagining all sorts of things and almost falling ill?» she said, looking searchingly at him.

«You don’t know what’s going on in me, Olga», he said, pointing to his head and heart. «I’m worried to death; you don’t know what’s happened, do you?»

«What has happened?» she asked coldly.

«How far the rumours about you and me have spread! I did not want to worry you, and I was afraid to show myself at your place». He told her everything he had heard from Zakhar and Anisya, recalled the conversation of the dandies, and finished by saying that he had not been able to sleep ever since, and that in every glance he saw a question or a reproach or a sly hint at their meetings.

«But we have decided to tell Auntie this week», she said. «Then all these rumours will have to stop».

«Yes, but I did not want to speak to your aunt this week, till I received my letter. I know that she will not ask me about my love, but about my estate, that she will want to know all the details, and I cannot explain anything to her till I’ve received an answer from my agent».

She sighed.

«If I didn’t know you», she said thoughtfully, «I don’t know what I might have thought. You were afraid of worrying me by footmen’s gossip, but you were not afraid of causing me all this anxiety! I simply can’t understand you!»

«You see, I thought that their talk would upset you. Katya, Marfa, Semyon, and that fool Nikita, goodness only knows what they are saying…»

«I’ve known for a long time what they are saying», she said imperturbably.

«Who told you?»

«Katya and Nanny told me about it long ago. They asked me about you, congratulated me…»

«Congratulated you? Did they really?» he asked in horror. «And what did you say?»

«Oh, nothing. I just thanked them. I gave Nurse a kerchief, and she promised to go on foot to St Sergius’s shrine to offer up a prayer for me. I undertook to arrange Katya’s marriage with a pastry-cook: she, too, is in love…»

He looked at her with frightened and astonished eyes.

«You visited us every day, so it’s natural that the servants should talk about it», she added. «They are always the first to talk. It was the same with Sonia: why does it frighten you so much?»

«So that’s where the rumours came from!» he said in a drawn- out voice.

«They are not unfounded, are they? It’s true, isn’t it?»

«It is true», Oblomov repeated, in a tone of voice that sounded neither like a denial nor like a question. «Yes», he added after a pause, «you are quite right. But, you see, I don’t want them to know about our meetings; that’s why I am so afraid».

«You are afraid – you tremble like a boy… I can’t understand it! You are not stealing me, are you?»

He felt ill at ease; she looked attentively at him.

«Listen», she said, «there’s some kind of a lie here somewhere, there’s something wrong. Come here and tell me all you have on your mind. You could have stayed away for a couple of days or even for a week as a precaution, but you should have warned me, you should have written to me. You know I am no longer a child and I can’t be so easily upset by some nonsense. What does it all mean?»

He pondered a little, kissed her hand, and sighed.

«This is what I think it is, Olga», he said. «All this time my imagination has been so frightened on your account by all these horrors, my mind has been so tortured by worries, my heart has been so sore with hopes that seemed to be on the point of fulfilment one moment and on the point of being shattered at another, and with expectations that my whole organism is shaken and has grown numb – it needs a rest even if it is only for a time…»

«But why haven’t I grown numb? Why do I seek a rest only beside you?»

«You are young and strong, you love me serenely and peacefully, while I – but you don’t know how much I love you!» he said, sliding down to the floor and kissing her hands.

«No, I don’t think I do – really. You are so strange that I don’t know what to think. My mind misgives me and I lose hope – soon we shall cease to understand each other: if that happens, it will go badly with us».

They were silent.

«What have you been doing all this time?» she asked, looking round the room for the first time. «It isn’t nice here – such low ceilings! The windows are small, the wallpaper old… What are your other rooms like?»

He rushed to show her his flat so as not to have to answer her questions about what he had been doing all that time. When she resumed her seat on the sofa, he again sat down on the rug at her feet.

«Well, what have you been doing this fortnight?» She repeated her question.

«Reading, writing, thinking of you».

«Have you read my books? What are they like? I think I’ll take them back».

She picked up a book from the table and looked at the open page: it was covered with dust.

«You haven’t been reading!» she said.

«No», he replied.

She looked at the crumpled, embroidered cushions, at the untidiness of the room, the dusty windows, the writing-desk, turned over several dust-covered papers, touched the pen in the dry inkwell, and looked at him in amazement.

«What have you been doing?» she repeated. «You haven’t been reading or writing, have you?»

«I had so little time», he began, faltering. «When I get up in the morning they are tidying the rooms, they keep disturbing me, there follows the talk about dinner, the landlady’s children come in and ask me to correct their sums, then there’s dinner. After dinner – when is there time to read?»

«You slept after dinner», she said in so positive a tone of voice that after a moment’s hesitation, he replied softly:

«Yes».

«But why?»

«So as not to notice the time: you were not with me, Olga, and life without you is dull and unbearable».

He stopped short, and she looked sternly at him.

«Ilya», she began earnestly, «do you remember the day in the park when you told me that you felt alive again, when you assured me that I was the aim of your life and your ideal, when you took me by the hand and said that it was yours – do you remember how I gave you my consent?»

«How could I forget it? Hasn’t it transformed my whole life? Don’t you see how happy I am?»

«No, I don’t. You have deceived me», she said coldly. «You’re letting yourself go once more…»

«Deceived you? Aren’t you ashamed to say that? I swear I’d throw myself into an abyss this very minute…»

«Yes, indeed, if the abyss were here right at your feet at this moment», she interrupted, «but if it were put off for three days you would have changed your mind and got frightened, especially if Zakhar or Anisya began talking about it. That is not love».

«Do you doubt my love?» he began warmly. «Do you think that I am delaying out of fear for myself, and not for you? Don’t I guard your good name? Don’t I watch over you like a mother so that no gossip should dare to touch you? Oh, Olga! Ask for proofs! I tell you again that if you could be happier with another man, I’d resign my rights to him without a murmur. If someone had to sacrifice his life for you, I’d be happy to die!» he concluded with tears in his eyes.

«But that’s not necessary, no one asks you to! What do I need your life for? Just do what is necessary. It’s an old trick of dishonest people to offer sacrifices which are unnecessary and which cannot be made so as to get out of making those that are necessary. You’re not crafty – I know that, but…»

«You don’t know what these passions and anxieties have cost me!» he went on. «I have had no other thought since I met you. And now, too, I repeat that you are my only aim, you alone. I shall die, I shall go mad if I have not got you beside me! I breathe, look, think, and feel only with you. Why are you surprised that I fall asleep and go to pieces on the days I don’t see you? Nothing pleases me, I’m sick of everything, I’m just a machine: I walk about and do all sorts of things without noticing what I am doing. You are the fire and the force of this machine», he declared, kneeling and straightening himself.

His eyes gleamed as they used to do in the park in summer. Pride and strength of will shone in them once more.

«I am ready to go at once where you tell me, to do what you wish. When you look at me, when you talk or sing, I feel that I am alive».

Olga listened to these passionate effusions with thoughtful gravity.

«Listen, Ilya», she said, «I believe in your love and in my power over you. Why, then, do you frighten me by your indecision? Why do you make me doubt you? You say I am your aim – and you go towards it so slowly and timidly. And you have still far to go, for you must rise above me. I expect it of you! I have watched happy people in love», she added with a sigh. «Everything they do is full of energy and their rest is not like yours: they do not drop their heads, their eyes are always open, they seem hardly ever to sleep, they act! And you – no, I’m afraid it does not look as if love or I were your aim in life».

She shook her head doubtfully.

«You are, my darling, you are!» he said, kissing her hands again excitedly as he lay at her feet. «You alone! Heavens, what happiness!» he repeated as though in a delirium. «And you imagine that it is possible to deceive you, to fall asleep after such an awakening, not to become a hero! You shall see – you and Andrey», he went on, looking round with inspired eyes, «to what heights the love of a woman like you can raise a man! Look, look at me. Have I not come back to life, am I not alive at this moment? Let us leave this place! Let’s go, let’s go! I can’t stay here for another moment: I feel stifled, rotten!» he said, looking round him with undisguised disgust. «Let me go on feeling like this the whole of to-day… Oh, if only the fire that burns in me now would go on burning to-morrow and always! But when you are away, it goes out and I sink! Now I am alive, I have come back from the dead. I think I – Olga, Olga! You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, you’re first among all women, you – you…»

He pressed his face to her hand and fell silent. He could not bring himself to utter another word. He pressed his hand to his heart to quiet his agitation, fixed his passionate, moist eyes on Olga, and remained motionless.

«He’s tender, tender, tender!» Olga kept thinking, but with a sigh, and not as she used to think in the park, and she sank into deep thought.

«It’s time I went», she said affectionately as she recovered from her reverie.

He suddenly came to himself.

«Oh dear, are you here? At my place?» he said.

His inspired look disappeared, and instead he began looking round timidly. His tongue uttered no more ardent speeches. He grabbed her hat and coat hurriedly, and in his confusion he tried to put the coat on her head. She laughed.

«Don’t be afraid for me», she calmed him. «Auntie has gone out for the whole day. At home Nurse alone knows that I am out, and Katya, of course. Please see me off».

She allowed him to take her arm and, calmly and without the slightest excitement, in the proud consciousness of her innocence, crossed the yard to the accompaniment of the desperate barking of the dog, jumping on the chain, entered her carriage, and drove away. Heads were peering from the landlady’s windows, and Anisya’s head peeped out of the ditch from behind the fence round the corner. When the carriage had turned into another street, Anisya came back and said she had been all over the market and could find no asparagus.

Oblomov paced the room for a long time, too absorbed in his thoughts to hear that the carriage, which carried away his happiness and everything that was dear to him in life, had stopped crunching on the snow, his nervousness disappeared, his head and back straightened, the look of inspired radiance returned to his face, and his eyes were moist with happiness and emotion. A feeling of warmth, freshness, and high spirits spread through his body. And again, as many times before, he felt like being everywhere at once, far, far away: to go around with Stolz, accompanied by Olga; to go to the country, to the fields and woods; to shut himself up in his study and busy himself with his work; to travel to Rybinsk harbour, to construct the new road; to read the new book which had just been published and which everybody was talking about; to go to the opera – to-day… Yes, she had been to see him to-day, and he would go to see her and then – to the opera. What a full day it had been! How easy it was to breathe in the sort of atmosphere Olga lived in, in the rays of her virginal brilliance, her high spirits, and her young but subtle, deep, and sound intelligence! He felt as though he were not walking, but flying, as though he were being wafted about the room.

«Forward, forward!» Olga had said. «Higher, higher, to that boundary where the power of grace and tenderness loses its rights and where man’s kingdom begins!» How clearly she saw life! How easily she had found her way in that intricate book and had guessed instinctively his way in it too! Their two lives, like two rivers, must merge: he was to be her guide, her leader! She saw his powers, his abilities, she knew how much he could do, and was waiting submissively for him to assert his dominion over her. Wonderful Olga! A cool, brave, simple, but resolute woman, natural as life itself!

«How disgusting this place really is!» he said, looking round. «And this angel descended into a swamp and sanctified it with her presence!»

He looked lovingly at the chair on which she had been sitting, and suddenly his eyes shone: beside the chair, on the floor, he saw a tiny glove.

«A pledge! Her hand: it’s a portent! Oh!» he moaned passionately, pressing the glove to his lips.

The landlady thrust her head through the door to ask him if he would like to have a look at some linen: it had been brought for sale and he might like to buy some. But he thanked her dryly, without thinking of glancing at her elbows, said he was sorry, but he was very busy. Then he became absorbed in the recollections of the summer, went over all the details, remembered every tree, bush, and seat, every uttered word, and found it all more charming than it had been at the time when he was enjoying it. He seemed to have lost all control of himself. He sang, spoke kindly to Anisya, joked about her having no children, and promised to stand godfather to her first baby. He played so noisily with Masha that the landlady looked in and sent Masha away so that she should not interfere with their lodger’s «work».

He spent the rest of the day indulging in even madder dreams: Olga was gay and sang, then there was more singing at the opera, then he had tea with them, and the conversation at the tea-table between him, the aunt, the baron, and Olga was so sincere and cordial that Oblomov felt absolutely a member of this small family. He need no longer live a solitary life: he had a home, his life was now built on firm foundations – he had warmth and light – and how lovely life was!

He slept little that night: he was reading the books Olga had sent him and read a volume and a half.

«To-morrow the letter from the country is sure to come», he thought, and his heart beat fast – fast. «At last!»