The Duellist Page #6

"The Duelist" by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev is a poignant short story that explores themes of honor, pride, and the complexities of human relationships. Set in 19th-century Russia, it follows the life of the protagonist, a young officer who becomes embroiled in a series of duels that reflect his internal struggles and societal pressures. Through his experiences, Turgenev examines the absurdity of the code of honor and the impact of confrontation on personal identity and authenticity. The narrative showcases Turgenev's eloquent prose and deep psychological insight, making it a significant work in the realm of Russian literature.

								

your time. To-day it's--what? Monday... to-morrow's Tuesday... on
Wednesday, yes, on Wednesday we'll go together to the Perekatovs'. They
will be so glad to see you... and we shall have such a jolly time
there... and now let me have a pipe.'

Avdey Ivanovitch lay without budging on the sofa, staring at the
ceiling. Kister lighted a pipe, went to the window, and began drumming
on the panes with his fingers.

'So they've been talking about me?' Avdey asked suddenly.

'They have,' Kister responded with meaning.

'What did they say?'

'Oh, they talked. There're very anxious to make your acquaintance.'

'Which of them's that?'

'I say, what curiosity!'

Avdey called his servant, and ordered his horse to be saddled.

'Where are you off to?'

'The riding-school.'

'Well, good-bye. So we're going to the Perekatovs', eh?'

'All right, if you like,' Lutchkov said lazily, stretching.

'Bravo, old man!' cried Kister, and he went out into the street,
pondered, and sighed deeply.

IV

Masha was just approaching the drawing-room door when the arrival of
Kister and Lutchkov was announced. She promptly returned to her own
room, and went up to the looking-glass.... Her heart was throbbing
violently. A girl came to summon her to the drawing-room. Masha drank a
little water, stopped twice on the stairs, and at last went down. Mr.
Perekatov was not at home. Nenila Makarievna was sitting on the sofa;
Lutchkov was sitting in an easy-chair, wearing his uniform, with his hat
on his knees; Kister was near him. They both got up on Masha's
entrance--Kister with his usual friendly smile, Lutchkov with a solemn
and constrained air. She bowed to them in confusion, and went up to her
mother. The first ten minutes passed off favourably. Masha recovered
herself, and gradually began to watch Lutchkov. To the questions
addressed to him by the lady of the house, he answered briefly, but
uneasily; he was shy, like all egoistic people. Nenila Makarievna
suggested a stroll in the garden to her guests, but did not herself go
beyond the balcony. She did not consider it essential never to lose
sight of her daughter, and to be constantly hobbling after her with a
fat reticule in her hands, after the fashion of many mothers in the
steppes. The stroll lasted rather a long while. Masha talked more with
Kister, but did not dare to look either at him or at Lutchkov. Avdey
Ivanovitch did not address a remark to her; Kister's voice showed
agitation. He laughed and chattered a little over-much.... They reached
the stream. A couple of yards or so from the bank there was a
water-lily, which seemed to rest on the smooth surface of the water,
encircled by its broad, round leaves.

'What a beautiful flower!' observed Masha.

She had hardly uttered these words when Lutchkov pulled out his sword,
clutched with one hand at the frail twigs of a willow, and, bending his
whole body over the water, cut off the head of the flower. 'It's deep
here, take care!' Masha cried in terror. Lutchkov with the tip of his
sword brought the flower to the bank, at her very feet. She bent down,
picked up the flower, and gazed with tender, delighted amazement at
Avdey. 'Bravo!' cried Kister. 'And I can't swim...' Lutchkov observed
abruptly. Masha did not like that remark. 'What made him say that?' she
wondered.

Lutchkov and Kister remained at Mr. Perekatov's till the evening.
Something new and unknown was passing in Masha's soul; a dreamy
perplexity was reflected more than once in her face. She moved somehow
more slowly, she did not flush on meeting her mother's eyes--on the
contrary, she seemed to seek them, as though she would question her.
During the whole evening, Lutchkov paid her a sort of awkward attention;
but even this awkwardness gratified her innocent vanity. When they had
both taken leave, with a promise to come again in a few days, she
quietly went off to her own room, and for a long while, as it were, in
bewilderment she looked about her. Nenila Makarievna came to her, kissed
and embraced her as usual. Masha opened her lips, tried to say
something--and did not utter a word. She wanted to confess---she did not
know what. Her soul was gently wandering in dreams. On the little table
by her bedside the flower Lutchkov had picked lay in water in a clean
glass. Masha, already in bed, sat up cautiously, leaned on her elbow,
and her maiden lips softly touched the fresh white petals....

'Well,' Kister questioned his friend next day, 'do you like the
Perekatovs? Was I right? eh? Tell me.'

Lutchkov did not answer.

'No, do tell me, do tell me!'

'Really, I don't know.'

'Nonsense, come now!'

'That... what's her name... Mashenka's all right; not bad-looking.'

'There, you see...' said Kister--and he said no more.

Five days later Lutchkov of his own accord suggested that they should
call on the Perekatovs.

Alone he would not have gone to see them; in Fyodor Fedoritch's absence
he would have had to keep up a conversation, and that he could not do,
and as far as possible avoided.

On the second visit of the two friends, Masha was much more at her ease.
She was by now secretly glad that she had not disturbed her mamma by an
uninvited avowal. Before dinner, Avdey had offered to try a young horse,
not yet broken in, and, in spite of its frantic rearing, he mastered it
completely. In the evening he thawed, and fell into joking and
laughing--and though he soon pulled himself up, yet he had succeeded in
making a momentary unpleasant impression on Masha. She could not yet be
sure herself what the feeling exactly was that Lutchkov excited in her,
but everything she did not like in him she set down to the influence of
misfortune, of loneliness.

V

The friends began to pay frequent visits to the Perekatovs'. Kister's
position became more and more painful. He did not regret his action...
no, but he desired at least to cut short the time of his trial. His
devotion to Masha increased daily; she too felt warmly towards him; but
to be nothing more than a go-between, a confidant, a friend even--it's a
dreary, thankless business! Coldly idealistic people talk a great deal
about the sacredness of suffering, the bliss of suffering... but to
Kister's warm and simple heart his sufferings were not a source of any
bliss whatever. At last, one day, when Lutchkov, ready dressed, came to
fetch him, and the carriage was waiting at the steps, Fyodor Fedoritch,
to the astonishment of his friend, announced point-blank that he should
stay at home. Lutchkov entreated him, was vexed and angry... Kister
pleaded a headache. Lutchkov set off alone.

The bully had changed in many ways of late. He left his comrades in
peace, did not annoy the novices, and though his spirit had not
'blossomed out,' as Kister had foretold, yet he certainly had toned down
a little. He could not have been called 'disillusioned' before--he had
seen and experienced almost nothing--and so it is not surprising that
Masha engrossed his thoughts. His heart was not touched though; only his
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