The Man Who Was Afraid Part 36

She said nothing to this, but, lowering her head, she slowly began to finger the fringes of the towel.

"You ought to get married," said Foma, feeling that he pitied her.

"Leave me alone, please," answered Lubov, wrinkling her forehead.

"Why leave you alone? You will get married, I am sure."

"There!" exclaimed the girl softly, with a sigh. "That's just what I am thinking of--it is necessary. That is, I'll have to get married. But how? Do you know, I feel now as though a mist stood between other people and myself--a thick, thick mist!"

"That's from your books," Foma interposed confidently.

"Wait! And I cease to understand what is going on about me. Nothing pleases me. Everything has become strange to me. Nothing is as it should be. Everything is wrong. I see it. I understand it, yet I cannot say that it is wrong, and why it is so."

"It is not so, not so," muttered Foma. "That's from your books. Yes.

Although I also feel that it's wrong. Perhaps that is because we are so young and foolish."

"At first it seemed to me," said Lubov, not listening to him, "that everything in the books was clear to me. But now--"

"Drop your books," suggested Foma, with contempt.

"Ah, don't say that! How can I drop them? You know how many different ideas there are in the world! O Lord! They're such ideas that set your head afire. According to a certain book everything that exists on earth is rational."

"Everything?" asked Foma.

"Everything! While another book says the contrary is true."

"Wait! Now isn't this nonsense?"

"What were you discussing?" asked Mayakin, appearing at the door, in a long frock-coat and with several medals on his collar and his breast.

"Just so," said Lubov, morosely.

"We spoke about books," added Foma.

"What kind of books?"

"The books she is reading. She read that everything on earth is rational."

"Really!"

"Well, and I say it is a lie!"

"Yes." Yakov Tarasovich became thoughtful, he pinched his beard and winked his eyes a little.

"What kind of a book is it?" he asked his daughter, after a pause.

"A little yellow-covered book," said Lubov, unwillingly.

"Just put that book on my table. That is said not without reflection--everything on earth is rational! See someone thought of it.

Yes. It is even very cleverly expressed. And were it not for the fools, it might have been perfectly correct. But as fools are always in the wrong place, it cannot be said that everything on earth is rational. And yet, I'll look at the book. Maybe there is common sense in it. Goodbye, Foma! Will you stay here, or do you want to drive with me?"

"I'll stay here a little longer."

"Very well."

Lubov and Foma again remained alone.

"What a man your father is," said Foma, nodding his head toward the direction of his G.o.dfather.

"Well, what kind of a man do you think he is?"

"He retorts every call, and wants to cover everything with his words."

"Yes, he is clever. And yet he does not understand how painful my life is," said Lubov, sadly.

"Neither do I understand it. You imagine too much."

"What do I imagine?" cried the girl, irritated.

"Why, all these are not your own ideas. They are someone else's."

"Someone else's. Someone else's."

She felt like saying something harsh; but broke down and became silent.

Foma looked at her and, setting Medinskaya by her side, thought sadly:

"How different everything is--both men and women--and you never feel alike."

They sat opposite each other; both were lost in thought, and neither one looked at the other. It was getting dark outside, and in the room it was quite dark already. The wind was shaking the linden-trees, and their branches seemed to clutch at the walls of the house, as though they felt cold and implored for shelter in the rooms.

"Luba!" said Foma, softly.

She raised her head and looked at him.

"Do you know, I have quarrelled with Medinskaya."

"Why?" asked Luba, brightening up.

"So. It came about that she offended me. Yes, she offended me."

"Well, it's good that you've quarrelled with her," said the girl, approvingly, "for she would have turned your head. She is a vile creature; she is a coquette, even worse than that. Oh, what things I know about her!"

"She's not at all a vile creature," said Foma, morosely. "And you don't know anything about her. You are all lying!"

"Oh, I beg your pardon!"

"No. See here, Luba," said Foma, softly, in a beseeching tone, "don't speak ill of her in my presence. It isn't necessary. I know everything.

By G.o.d! She told me everything herself."