Old Portraits Page #5

"Old Portraits" is a collection of short stories by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev, exploring themes of nostalgia, memory, and the passage of time. Through a series of rich character studies and evocative settings, Turgenev reflects on the lives and relationships of individuals, often highlighting the impact of the past on the present. The narratives delve into the emotional landscapes of the characters, revealing deep insights into human nature and the fleeting nature of beauty and youth. Turgenev's lyrical prose captures the essence of Russian society in the 19th century, making this work a poignant meditation on life, love, and loss.

								

with olive-oil and salt; she both administered it internally and rubbed
it on externally, and everything passed off splendidly. And who was my
mother? She had her birth under Peter the First--only think of that!"

Alexyéi Sergyéitch was a Russian man in every respect; he loved Russian
viands, he loved Russian songs, but the accordion, "a factory
invention," he detested; he loved to watch the maidens in their choral
songs, the women in their dances. In his youth, it was said, he had sung
rollickingly and danced with agility. He loved to steam himself in the
bath,--and steamed himself so energetically that Irinárkh, who served
him as bath-attendant, thrashed him with a birch-besom soaked in beer,
rubbed him down with shredded linden bark,[40] then with a bit of
woollen cloth, rolled a soap bladder over his master's shoulders,--this
faithfully-devoted Irinárkh was accustomed to say every time, as he
climbed down from the shelf as red as "a new brass statue": "Well, for
this time I, the servant of God, Irinárkh Tolobyéeff, am still whole....
What will happen next time?"

And Alexyéi Sergyéitch spoke splendid Russian, somewhat old-fashioned,
but piquant and pure as spring water, constantly interspersing his
speech with his pet words: "honour bright," "God have mercy," "at any
rate," "sir," and "little sir."...

Enough concerning him, however. Let us talk about Alexyéi Sergyéitch's
spouse, Malánya Pávlovna.

Malánya Pávlovna was a native of Moscow, and had been accounted the
greatest beauty in town, la Vénus de Moscou.--When I knew her she was
already a gaunt old woman, with delicate but insignificant features,
little curved hare-like teeth in a tiny little mouth, with a multitude
of tight little curls on her forehead, and dyed eyebrows. She constantly
wore a pyramidal cap with rose-coloured ribbons, a high ruff around her
neck, a short white gown and prunella shoes with red heels; and over her
gown she wore a jacket of blue satin, with the sleeve depending from
the right shoulder. She had worn precisely such a toilet on St. Peter's
day, 1789! On that day, being still a maiden, she had gone with her
relatives to the Khodýnskoe Field,[41] to see the famous prize-fight
arranged by the Orlóffs.

"And Count Alexyéi Grigórievitch ..." (oh, how many times did I hear
that tale!), ... "having descried me, approached, made a low obeisance,
holding his hat in both hands, and spake thus: 'My stunning beauty, why
dost thou allow that sleeve to hang from thy shoulder? Is it that thou
wishest to have a match at fisticuffs with me?... With pleasure; only I
tell thee beforehand that thou hast vanquished me--I surrender!--and I
am thy captive!'--and every one stared at us and marvelled."

And so she had worn that style of toilet ever since.

"Only, I wore no cap then, but a hat à la bergère de Trianon; and
although I was powdered, yet my hair gleamed through it like gold!"

Malánya Pávlovna was stupid to sanctity, as the saying goes; she
chattered at random, and did not herself quite know what issued from her
mouth--but it was chiefly about Orlóff.--Orlóff had become, one may say,
the principal interest of her life. She usually entered--no! she
floated into--the room, moving her head in a measured way like a
peacock, came to a halt in the middle of it, with one foot turned out in
a strange sort of way, and holding the pendent sleeve in two fingers
(that must have been the pose which had pleased Orlóff once on a time),
she looked about her with arrogant carelessness, as befits a beauty,--
she even sniffed and whispered "The idea!" exactly as though some
important cavalier-adorer were besieging her with compliments,--then
suddenly walked on, clattering her heels and shrugging her shoulders.--
She also took Spanish snuff out of a tiny bonbon box, scooping it out
with a tiny golden spoon, and from time to time, especially when a new
person made his appearance, she raised--not to her eyes, but to her nose
(her vision was excellent)--a double lorgnette in the shape of a pair of
horns, showing off and twisting about her little white hand with one
finger standing out apart.

How many times did Malánya Pávlovna describe to me her wedding in the
Church of the Ascension, "which is on the Arbát Square--such a fine
church!--and all Moscow was present at it ... there was such a crush! 'T
was frightful! There were equipages drawn by six horses, golden
carriages, runners ... one of Count Zavadóvsky's runners even fell under
the wheels! And the bishop himself married us,[42] and what an address
he delivered! Everybody wept--wherever I looked there was nothing but
tears, tears ... and the Governor-General's horses were
tiger-coloured.... And how many, many flowers people brought!... They
overwhelmed us with flowers! And one foreigner, a rich, very rich man,
shot himself for love on that occasion, and Orlóff was present also....
And approaching Alexyéi Sergyéitch he congratulated him and called him a
lucky dog.... 'Thou art a lucky dog, brother gaper!' he said. And in
reply Alexyéi Sergyéitch made such a wonderful obeisance, and swept the
plume of his hat along the floor from left to right ... as much as to
say: 'There is a line drawn now, Your Radiance, between you and my
spouse which you must not step across!'--And Orlóff, Alexyéi
Grigórievitch, immediately understood and lauded him.--Oh, what a man he
was! What a man! And then, on another occasion, Alexis and I were at a
ball in his house--I was already married--and what magnificent diamond
buttons he wore! And I could not restrain myself, but praised them.
'What splendid diamonds you have, Count!' And thereupon he took a knife
from the table, cut off one button and presented it to me--saying: 'You
have in your eyes, my dear little dove, diamonds a hundredfold finer;
just stand before the mirror and compare them.' And I did stand there,
and he stood beside me.--'Well? Who is right?'--says he--and keeps
rolling his eyes all round me. And then Alexyéi Sergyéitch was greatly
dismayed; but I said to him: 'Alexis,' I said to him, 'please do not be
dismayed; thou shouldst know me better!' And he answered me: 'Be at
ease, Mélanie!'--And those same diamonds I now have encircling a
medallion of Alexyéi Grigórievitch--I think, my dear, that thou hast
seen me wear it on my shoulder on festival days, on a ribbon of St.
George--because he was a very brave hero, a cavalier of the Order of St.
George: he burned the Turks!"[43]

Notwithstanding all this, Malánya Pávlovna was a very kind woman; she
was easy to please.--"She doesn't nag you, and she doesn't sneer at
you," the maids said of her.--Malánya Pávlovna was passionately fond of
all sweets, and a special old woman, who occupied herself with nothing
but the preserves, and therefore was called the preserve-woman, brought
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