Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) by Ivan Turgenev Read Free Book Online

aimable que savant . And he speaks Russian beautifully! C’est un vrai torrent... il vous entraine !
    ‘He speaks Russian so beautifully,’ grumbled Pigasov, ‘that he deserves a eulogy in French.’
    ‘You may grumble as you please, African Semenitch.... It’s in keeping with your ruffled locks.... I wonder, though, why he does not come. Do you know what, messieurs et mesdames ’ added Darya Mihailovna, looking round, ‘we will go into the garden. There is still nearly an hour to dinner - time and the weather is glorious.’
    All the company rose and went into the garden.
    Darya Mihailovna’s garden stretched right down to the river. There were many alleys of old lime - trees in it, full of sunlight and shade and fragrance and glimpses of emerald green at the ends of the walks, and many arbours of acacias and lilacs.
    Volintsev turned into the thickest part of the garden with Natalya and Mlle. Boncourt. He walked beside Natalya in silence. Mlle. Boncourt followed a little behind.
    ‘What have you been doing to - day?’ asked Volintsev at last, pulling the ends of his handsome dark brown moustache.
    In features he resembled his sister strikingly; but there was less movement and life in his expression, and his soft beautiful eyes had a melancholy look.
    ‘Oh! nothing,’ answered Natalya, ‘I have been listening to Pigasov’s sarcasms, I have done some embroidery on canvas, and I’ve been reading.’
    ‘And what have you been reading?’
    ‘Oh! I read — a history of the Crusades,’ said Natalya, with some hesitation.
    Volintsev looked at her.
    ‘Ah!’ he ejaculated at last, ‘that must be interesting.’
    He picked a twig and began to twirl it in the air. They walked another twenty paces.
    ‘What is this baron whom your mother has made acquaintance with?’ began Volintsev again.
    ‘A Gentleman of the Bedchamber, a new arrival; maman speaks very highly of him.’
    ‘Your mother is quick to take fancies to people.’
    ‘That shows that her heart is still young,’ observed Natalya.
    ‘Yes. I shall soon bring you your mare. She is almost quite broken in now. I want to teach her to gallop, and I shall manage it soon.’
    ‘ Merci !... But I’m quite ashamed. You are breaking her in yourself ... and they say it’s so hard!’
    ‘To give you the least pleasure, you know, Natalya Alexyevna, I am ready... I... not in such trifles —   — ’
    Volintsev grew confused.
    Natalya looked at him with friendly encouragement, and again said ‘ merci !’
    ‘You know,’ continued Sergei Pavlitch after a long pause, ‘that not such things.... But why am I saying this? you know everything, of course.’
    At that instant a bell rang in the house.
    ‘Ah! la cloche du diner !’ cried Mlle. Boncourt, ‘ rentrons .’
    ‘ Quel dommage ,’ thought the old French lady to herself as she mounted the balcony steps behind Volintsev and Natalya, ‘ quel dommage que ce charmant garcon ait si peu de ressources dans la conversation ,’ which may be translated, ‘you are a good fellow, my dear boy, but rather a fool.’
    The baron did not arrive to dinner. They waited half - an - hour for him. Conversation flagged at the table. Sergei Pavlitch did nothing but gaze at Natalya, near whom he was sitting, and zealously filled up her glass with water. Pandalevsky tried in vain to entertain his neighbour, Alexandra Pavlovna; he was bubbling over with sweetness, but she hardly refrained from yawning.
    Bassistoff was rolling up pellets of bread and thinking of nothing at all; even Pigasov was silent, and when Darya Mihailovna remarked to him that he had not been very polite to - day, he replied crossly, ‘When am I polite? that’s not in my line;’ and smiling grimly he added, ‘have a little patience; I am only kvas, you know, du simple Russian kvas; but your Gentleman of the Bedchamber —   — ’
    ‘Bravo!’ cried Darya Mihailovna, ‘Pigasov is jealous, he is jealous already!’
    But Pigasov made her no