Another Man's Wife Page #5

"Another Man's Wife" is a lesser-known short story by Fyodor Dostoevsky, exploring themes of love, infidelity, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative revolves around a man who becomes infatuated with another man's wife, delving into the emotional turmoil and moral dilemmas that arise from his desires. Dostoevsky's characteristic psychological depth is evident as he examines the conflict between passion and societal norms, ultimately revealing the profound impacts of jealousy and betrayal on the lives of those involved.

• Novel

								


"It will be here directly."

The lady was left alone.

"Glafira! Where are your vows?" cried the young man in the wadded overcoat,
clutching the lady's arm.

"Oh, who is it? It's you, Tvorogov? My goodness! What are you doing here?"

"Who is it you have been with here?"

"Why, my husband. Go away, go away; he'll be coming out directly ...
from ... in there ... from the Polovitsyns'. Go away; for goodness'
sake, go away."

"It's three weeks since the Polovitsyns moved! I know all about it!"

"Aïe!" The lady dashed downstairs. The young man overtook her.

"Who told you?" asked the lady.

"Your husband, madam, Ivan Andreyitch; he is here before you, madam...."

Ivan Andreyitch was indeed standing at the front door.

"Aïe, it's you," cried the gentleman in raccoon.

"Ah! C'est vous," cried Glafira Petrovna, rushing up to him with
unfeigned delight. "Oh, dear, you can't think what has been happening to
me. I went to see the Polovitsyns; only fancy ... you know they are living
now by Izmailovsky Bridge; I told you, do you remember? I took a sledge
from there. The horses took fright and bolted, they broke the sledge, and I
was thrown out about a hundred yards from here; the coachman was taken up;
I was in despair. Fortunately Monsieur Tvorogov ..."

"What!"

Monsieur Tvorogov was more like a fossil than like Monsieur Tvorogov.

"Monsieur Tvorogov saw me here and undertook to escort me; but now you are
here, and I can only express my warm gratitude to you, Ivan Ilyitch...."

The lady gave her hand to the stupefied Ivan Ilyitch, and almost pinched
instead of pressing it.

"Monsieur Tvorogov, an acquaintance of mine; it was at the Skorlupovs' ball
we had the pleasure of meeting; I believe I told you; don't you remember,
Koko?"

"Oh, of course, of course! Ah, I remember," said the gentleman in raccoon
addressed as Koko. "Delighted, delighted!" And he warmly pressed the hand
of Monsieur Tvorogov.

"Who is it? What does it mean? I am waiting...." said a husky voice.

Before the group stood a gentleman of extraordinary height; he took out a
lorgnette and looked intently at the gentleman in the raccoon coat.

"Ah, Monsieur Bobynitsyn!" twittered the lady. "Where have you come from?
What a meeting! Only fancy, I have just had an upset in a sledge ... but
here is my husband! Jean! Monsieur Bobynitsyn, at the Karpovs' ball...."

"Ah, delighted, very much delighted!... But I'll take a carriage at once,
my dear."

"Yes, do, Jean, do; I still feel frightened; I am all of a tremble, I feel
quite giddy.... At the masquerade to-night," she whispered to Tvorogov....
"Good-bye, good-bye, Mr. Bobynitsyn! We shall meet to-morrow at the
Karpovs' ball, most likely."

"No, excuse me, I shall not be there to-morrow; I don't know about
to-morrow, if it is like this now...." Mr. Bobynitsyn muttered something
between his teeth, made a scrape with his boot, got into his sledge and
drove away.

A carriage drove up; the lady got into it. The gentleman in the raccoon
coat stopped, seemed incapable of making a movement and gazed blankly at
the gentleman in the wadded coat. The gentleman in the wadded coat smiled
rather foolishly.

"I don't know...."

"Excuse me, delighted to make your acquaintance," answered the young man,
bowing with curiosity and a little intimidated.

"Delighted, delighted!..."

"I think you have lost your galosh...."

"I--oh, yes, thank you, thank you. I keep meaning to get rubber ones."

"The foot gets so hot in rubbers," said the young man, apparently with
immense interest.

"Jean! Are you coming?"

"It does make it hot. Coming directly, darling; we are having an
interesting conversation! Precisely so, as you say, it does make the foot
hot.... But excuse me, I ..."

"Oh, certainly."

"Delighted, very much delighted to make your acquaintance!..."

The gentleman in raccoon got into the carriage, the carriage set off, the
young man remained standing looking after it in astonishment.

II

The following evening there was a performance of some sort at the Italian
opera. Ivan Andreyitch burst into the theatre like a bomb. Such furore,
such a passion for music had never been observed in him before. It was
known for a positive fact, anyway, that Ivan Andreyitch used to be
exceeding fond of a nap for an hour or two at the Italian opera; he even
declared on several occasions how sweet and pleasant it was. "Why, the
prima donna," he used to say to his friends, "mews a lullaby to you like a
little white kitten." But it was a long time ago, last season, that he used
to say this; now, alas! even at home Ivan Andreyitch did not sleep at
nights. Nevertheless he burst into the crowded opera-house like a bomb.
Even the conductor started suspiciously at the sight of him, and glanced
out of the corner of his eye at his side-pocket in the full expectation of
seeing the hilt of a dagger hidden there in readiness. It must be observed
that there were at that time two parties, each supporting the superior
claims of its favourite prima donna. They were called the ----sists and
the ----nists. Both parties were so devoted to music, that the conductors
actually began to be apprehensive of some startling manifestation of the
passion for the good and the beautiful embodied in the two prima donnas.
This was how it was that, looking at this youthful dash into the parterre
of a grey-haired senior (though, indeed, he was not actually grey-haired,
but a man about fifty, rather bald, and altogether of respectable
appearance), the conductor could not help recalling the lofty judgment of
Hamlet Prince of Denmark upon the evil example set by age to youth, and, as
we have mentioned above, looking out of the corner of his eye at the
gentleman's side-pocket in the expectation of seeing a dagger. But there
was a pocket-book and nothing else there.

Darting into the theatre, Ivan Andreyitch instantly scanned all the boxes
of the second tier, and, oh--horror! His heart stood still, she was here!
She was sitting in the box! General Polovitsyn, with his wife and
sister-in-law, was there too. The general's adjutant--an extremely alert
young man, was there too; there was a civilian too.... Ivan Andreyitch
strained his attention and his eyesight, but--oh, horror! The civilian
treacherously concealed himself behind the adjutant and remained in the
darkness of obscurity.

She was here, and yet she had said she would not be here!

It was this duplicity for some time displayed in every step Glafira
Petrovna took which crushed Ivan Andreyitch. This civilian youth reduced
him at last to utter despair. He sank down in his stall utterly
overwhelmed. Why? one may ask. It was a very simple matter....
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