第37章

"Why should I NOT marry her?" he went on in response to my reassuring reply."It is my aim--as it should be the aim of every honourable man--to be as good and as happy as possible; and with her, if she should still be willing when I have become more independent, I should be happier and better than with the greatest beauty in the world."

Absorbed in such conversation, we hardly noticed that we were approaching Kuntsevo, or that the sky was becoming overcast and beginning to threaten rain.On the right, the sun was slowly sinking behind the ancient trees of the Kuntsevo park--one half of its brilliant disc obscured with grey, subluminous cloud, and the other half sending forth spokes of flaming light which threw the old trees into striking relief as they stood there with their dense crowns of green showing against a blue patch of sky.The light and shimmer of that patch contrasted sharply with the heavy pink cloud which lay massed above a young birch-tree visible on the horizon before us, while, a little further to the right, the parti-coloured roofs of the Kuntsevo mansion could be seen projecting above a belt of trees and undergrowth--one side of them reflecting the glittering rays of the sun, and the other side harmonising with the more louring portion of the heavens.Below us, and to the left, showed the still blue of a pond where it lay surrounded with pale-green laburnums--its dull, concave-looking depths repeating the trees in more sombre shades of colour over the surface of a hillock.Beyond the water spread the black expanse of a ploughed field, with the straight line of a dark-

green ridge by which it was bisected running far into the distance, and there joining the leaden, threatening horizon.

On either side of the soft road along which the phaeton was pursuing the even tenour of its way, bright-green, tangled, juicy belts of rye were sprouting here and there into stalk.Not a motion was perceptible in the air, only a sweet freshness, and everything looked extraordinarily clear and bright.Near the road I could see a little brown path winding its way among the dark-

green, quarter-grown stems of rye, and somehow that path reminded me vividly of our village, and somehow (through some connection of thought) the idea of that village reminded me vividly of Sonetchka, and so of the fact that I was in love with her.

Notwithstanding my fondness for Dimitri and the pleasure which his frankness had afforded me, I now felt as though I desired to hear no more about his feelings and intentions with regard to Lubov Sergievna, but to talk unstintedly about my own love for Sonetchka, who seemed to me an object of affection of a far higher order.Yet for some reason or another I could not make up my mind to tell him straight out how splendid it would seem when I had married Sonetchka and we were living in the country--of how we should have little children who would crawl about the floor and call me Papa, and of how delighted I should be when he, Dimitri, brought his wife, Lubov Sergievna, to see us, wearing an expensive gown.Accordingly, instead of saying all that, I pointed to the setting sun, and merely remarked: "Look, Dimitri!

How splendid!"

To this, however, Dimitri made no reply, since he was evidently dissatisfied at my answering his confession (which it had cost him much to make) by directing his attention to natural objects (to which he was, in general, indifferent).Upon him Nature had an effect altogether different to what she had upon myself, for she affected him rather by her industry than by her beauty--he loved her rather with his intellect than with his senses.

"I am absolutely happy," I went on, without noticing that he was altogether taken up with his own thoughts and oblivious of anything that I might be saying."You will remember how told you about a girl with whom I used to be in love when was a little boy? Well, I saw her again only this morning, and am now infatuated with her." Then I told him--despite his continued expression of indifference--about my love, and about all my plans for my future connubial happiness.Strangely enough, no sooner had I related in detail the whole strength of my feelings than I instantly became conscious of its diminution.

The rain overtook us just as we were turning into the avenue of birch-trees which led to the house, but it did not really wet us.

I only knew that it was raining by the fact that I felt a drop fall, first on my nose, and then on my hand, and heard something begin to patter upon the young, viscous leaves of the birch-trees as, drooping their curly branches overhead, they seemed to imbibe the pure, shining drops with an avidity which filled the whole avenue with scent.We descended from the carriage, so as to reach the house the quicker through the garden, but found ourselves confronted at the entrance-door by four ladies, two of whom were knitting, one reading a book, and the fourth walking to and fro with a little dog.Thereupon, Dimitri began to present me to his mother, sister, and aunt, as well as to Lubov Sergievna.For a moment they remained where they were, but almost instantly the rain became heavier.

"Let us go into the verandah; you can present him to us there,"

said the lady whom I took to be Dimitri's mother, and we all of us ascended the entrance-steps.