Ariadne Page #9

"Ariadne" is a short story by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov that explores themes of love, loneliness, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative centers on the character of Ariadne, a woman navigating her intricate feelings for a man who embodies both charm and emotional distance. Through Chekhov's characteristic subtlety and keen observations, the story delves into the emotional nuances of connection and the often unfulfilled desires that accompany it. Chekhov's minimalist style and profound psychological insight make "Ariadne" a poignant reflection on the human condition.

								


I heard no more, for I fell asleep.

Next morning when we were approaching Sevastopol, it was damp,
unpleasant weather; the ship rocked. Shamohin sat on deck with me,
brooding and silent. When the bell rang for tea, men with their coat-
collars turned up and ladies with pale, sleepy faces began going below;
a young and very beautiful lady, the one who had been so angry with the
Customs officers at Volotchisk, stopped before Shamohin and said with
the expression of a naughty, fretful child:

"Jean, your birdie's been sea-sick."

Afterwards when I was at Yalta I saw the same beautiful lady dashing
about on horseback with a couple of officers hardly able to keep up with
her. And one morning I saw her in an overall and a Phrygian cap,
sketching on the sea-front with a great crowd admiring her a little way
off. I too was introduced to her. She pressed my hand with great warmth,
and looking at me ecstatically, thanked me in honeyed cadences for the
pleasure I had given her by my writings.

"Don't you believe her," Shamohin whispered to me, "she has never read a
word of them."

When I was walking on the sea-front in the early evening Shamohin met me
with his arms full of big parcels of fruits and dainties.

"Prince Maktuev is here!" he said joyfully. "He came yesterday with her
brother, the spiritualist! Now I understand what she was writing to him
about! Oh, Lord!" he went on, gazing up to heaven, and pressing his
parcels to his bosom. "If she hits it off with the prince, it means
freedom, then I can go back to the country with my father!"

And he ran on.

"I begin to believe in spirits," he called to me, looking back. "The
spirit of grandfather Ilarion seems to have prophesied the truth! Oh, if
only it is so!"

----

The day after this meeting I left Yalta and how Shamohin's story ended I
don't know.
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