The River of Life Page #3

"The River of Life" by Aleksandr Kuprin is a poignant novella that explores themes of love, nature, and the human spirit. Set against the backdrop of the Russian landscape, the story follows the lives of fishermen and their interactions with the river that nourishes and sustains them. Kuprin skillfully weaves a narrative filled with rich imagery and deep philosophical reflections, addressing the struggle between personal desires and the relentless forces of nature. Through its vivid portrayal of the characters' lives and their connection to the river, the novella invites readers to contemplate the beauty and transience of existence.

• Novel

								

on the table. The lieutenant keeps his head busily down over the
register. He is completely absorbed in his business.

‘Well, sit down,’ the landlady abruptly invited him.

‘No thanks, Anna, darling. Eat, yourself. I’m not very keen,’
Tchijhevich said, without turning round, in a stifled voice, loudly
swallowing.

‘You do what you are told.... He’s giving himself airs, too.... Come
on!’

‘Immediately, this very minute. I’ll just finish the last page. “The
certificate issued by the Bilden Rural District Council ... of the
province ... number 2039....” Ready.’ The lieutenant rose and rubbed
his hands. ‘I love working.’

‘H’m. You call that work,’ the landlady snorted in disdain. ‘Sit down.’

‘Anna, darling, just one ... little....’

‘You can manage without.’

But since peace is already almost restored, Anna Friedrichovna takes a
small, fat-bodied cut-glass decanter from the cupboard, out of which
the deceased’s father used to drink. Adka spreads his cabbage all over
his plate and teases his brother because he has more. Edka is upset and
screams:

‘Adka’s got more. You gave him----’

Shlop! Edka gets a sounding smack with the spoon upon his forehead.
Immediately Anna Friedrichovna continues the conversation as if nothing
had happened:

‘Tell us another of your lies. I bet you were with some woman.’

‘Anna, darling!’ the lieutenant exclaimed reproachfully. Then he
stopped eating and pressed his hands--in one of which was a fork with a
piece of sausage--to his chest. ‘I ... oh, how little you know me. I’d
rather have my head cut off than let such a thing happen. When I went
away that time, I felt so bitter, so hard! I just walked in the street,
and you can imagine, I was drowned in tears. My God,’ I thought, ‘and
I’ve let myself insult that woman--the one woman whom I love sacredly,
madly....’

‘That’s a pretty story,’ put in the landlady, gratified, but still
somewhat suspicious.

‘You don’t believe me,’ the lieutenant replied in a quiet, deep, tragic
voice. ‘Well, I’ve deserved it. Every night I came to your window and
prayed for you in my soul.’ The lieutenant instantly tipped the glass
into his mouth, took a bite, and went on with his mouth full and his
eyes watering:

‘I was thinking that if a fire were to break out suddenly or murderers
attack, I would prove to you then.... I’d have given my life joyfully.
Alas! my life is short without that. My days are numbered....’

Meanwhile the landlady fumbled in her purse.

‘Go on!’ she replied, coquettishly. ‘Adka, here’s the money. Run to
Vasily Vasilich’s and get a bottle of beer. But tell him it’s got to be
fresh. Quick!’

Breakfast is finished, the bigoss eaten, and the beer all drunk, when
Romka, the depraved member of the preparatory class of the gymnasium,
appears covered in chalk and ink. Still standing at the door he pouts
and looks angrily. Then he flings his satchel down on the floor and
begins to howl:

‘There!... you’ve been and eaten everything without me. I’m as hungry
as a do-og.’

‘I’ve got some more. But I shan’t give you any,’ Adka teases him,
showing him his plate across the room.

‘There!... it’s a dirty trick,’ Romka drags out the words. ‘Mother,
tell Adka----’

‘Be quiet!’ Anna Friedrichovna cries in a piercing voice. ‘Dawdle
till it’s dark, why don’t you? Take twopence. Buy yourself some
sausage. That’ll do for you.’

‘Ye-es, twopence! You and Valerian Ivanich eat bigoss, and you make
me go to school. I’m just like a do-o-o-g.’

‘Get out!’ Anna Friedrichovna shouts in a terrible voice, and Romka
precipitately disappears. Still he managed to pick his satchel up from
the floor. A thought had suddenly come into his head. He would go and
sell his books in the Rag-market. In the doorway he ran into his elder
sister Alychka, and seized the opportunity to pinch her arm very hard.
Alychka entered grumbling aloud:

‘Mamma! tell Romka not to pinch.’

She is a handsome girl of thirteen, beginning to develop early, a
swarthy, olive brunette, with beautiful dark eyes, which are not at
all childish. Her lips are red, full and shining, and on her upper
lip, which is lightly covered with a fine black down, there are two
delightful moles. She is a general favourite in the house. The men
give her chocolates, often invite her into their rooms, kiss her and
say impudent things to her. She knows as much as any grown-up, but
in these cases she never blushes, but just casts down her long black
eyelashes which throw a blue shade on her amber cheeks, and smiles with
a strange, modest, tender yet voluptuous, and somehow expectant smile.
Her best friend is the woman Eugenia who lives in No. 12--a quiet
girl, punctual in paying for her room, a stout blonde, who is kept by
a timber merchant, but on her free days invites her cavaliers from the
street. Anna Friedrichovna holds her in high esteem, and says of her:
‘Well, what does it matter if Eugenia is not quite respectable, she’s
an independent woman anyhow.’

Seeing that breakfast is over Alychka gives one of her constrained
smiles and says aloud in her thin voice, rather theatrically: ‘Ah!
you’ve finished already. I’m too late. Mamma! may I go to Eugenia
Nicolaievna?’

‘Go wherever you like!’

‘Merci!’

She goes away. After breakfast complete peace reigns. The lieutenant
whispers the most ardent words into the widow’s ear, and presses her
generous knee under the table. Flushing with the food and beer, she
presses her shoulder close to him, then pushes him away and sighs with
nervous laughter.

‘Yes, Valerian. You’re shameless. The children!’

Adka and Edka look at them, with their fingers in their mouths and
their eyes wide open. Their mother suddenly springs upon them.

‘Go for a run, you ruffians. Sitting there like dummies in a museum.
Quick march!’

‘But I don’t want to,’ roars Adka.

‘I don’ wan’----’

‘I’ll teach you “Don’t want to.” A half-penny for candy, and out you
go.’

She locks the door after them, sits on the lieutenant’s knee, and they
begin to kiss.

‘You’re not cross, my treasure?’ the lieutenant whispers in her ear.

But there is a knock at the door. They have to open. The new
chambermaid enters, a tall, gloomy woman with one eye, and says
hoarsely, with a ferocious look:

‘No. 12 wants a samovar, some tea, and some sugar.’

Anna Friedrichovna impatiently gives out what is wanted. The lieutenant
says languidly, stretched on the sofa:

‘I would like to rest a bit, Anna, dear. Isn’t there a room empty?
People are always knocking about here.’

There is only one room empty, No. 5, and there they go. Their room is
long, narrow, and dark, like a skittle-alley, with one window. A bed,
a chest of drawers, a blistered brown washstand, and a commode are all
its furniture. The landlady and the lieutenant once more begin to kiss;
and they moan like doves on the roof in springtime.

‘Anna, darling, if you love me, send for a packet of ten “Cigarettes
Plaisir,” six kopeks,’ says the lieutenant coaxingly, while he
undresses.

‘Later----’
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