Three Portraits Page #5

"Three Portraits" is a novella by Russian author Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev, exploring themes of art, identity, and the impact of social change. The narrative revolves around three distinct portraits of a young woman that reveal different aspects of her character and the perceptions of those who behold them. Through these portraits, Turgenev delves into the complexities of human relationships and the elusive nature of beauty and truth, while reflecting on the cultural tensions of 19th-century Russia. The work showcases Turgenev's signature lyrical prose and his keen insight into the human condition.

								

good-natured and straightforward fellow. Nature had forgotten to put any
spice of ill-temper into his composition. His own serfs did not obey
him, and would sometimes all go off, down to the least of them, and
leave poor Rogatchov without any dinner... but nothing could trouble the
peace of his soul. From his childhood he had been stout and indolent,
had never been in the government service, and was fond of going to
church and singing in the choir. Look, gentlemen, at this round,
good-natured face; glance at this mild, beaming smile... don't you
really feel it reassuring, yourselves? His father used at long intervals
to drive over to Lutchinovka, and on holidays used to bring with him his
Pavlusha, whom the little Lutchinovs teased in every possible way.
Pavlusha grew up, began driving over to call on Ivan Andreevitch on his
own account, fell in love with Olga Ivanovna, and offered her his hand
and heart--not to her personally, but to her benefactors. Her
benefactors gave their consent. They never even thought of asking Olga
Ivanovna whether she liked Rogatchov. In those days, in the words of my
grandmother, 'such refinements were not the thing.' Olga soon got used
to her betrothed, however; it was impossible not to feel fond of such a
gentle and amiable creature. Rogatchov had received no education
whatever; his French consisted of the one word bonjour, and he
secretly considered even that word improper. But some jocose person had
taught him the following lines, as a French song: 'Sonitchka, Sonitchka!
Ke-voole-voo-de-mwa--I adore you--me-je-ne-pyoo-pa....' This supposed
song he always used to hum to himself when he felt in good spirits. His
father was also a man of incredible good-nature, always wore a long
nankin coat, and whatever was said to him he responded with a smile.
From the time of Pavel Afanasievitch's betrothal, both the Rogatchovs,
father and son, had been tremendously busy. They had been having their
house entirely transformed adding various 'galleries,' talking in a
friendly way with the workmen, encouraging them with drinks. They had
not yet completed all these additions by the winter; they put off the
wedding till the summer. In the summer Ivan Andreevitch died; the
wedding was deferred till the following spring. In the winter Vassily
Ivanovitch arrived. Rogatchov was presented to him; he received him
coldly and contemptuously, and as time went on, he, so alarmed him by
his haughty behaviour that poor Rogatchov trembled like a leaf at the
very sight of him, was tongue-tied and smiled nervously. Vassily once
almost annihilated him altogether--by making him a bet, that he,
Rogatchov, was not able to stop smiling. Poor Pavel Afanasievitch almost
cried with, embarrassment, but--actually!--a smile, a stupid, nervous
smile refused to leave his perspiring face! Vassily toyed deliberately
with the ends of his neckerchief, and looked at him with supreme
contempt. Pavel Afanasievitch's father heard too of Vassily's presence,
and after an interval of a few days--'for the sake of greater
formality'--he sallied off to Lutchinovka with the object of
'felicitating our honoured guest on his advent to the halls of his
ancestors.' Afanasey Lukitch was famed all over the countryside for his
eloquence--that is to say, for his capacity for enunciating without
faltering a rather long and complicated speech, with a sprinkling of
bookish phrases in it. Alas! on this occasion he did not sustain his
reputation; he was even more disconcerted than his son, Pavel
Afanasievitch; he mumbled something quite inarticulate, and though he
had never been used to taking vodka, he at once drained a glass 'to
carry things off'--he found Vassily at lunch,--tried at least to clear
his throat with some dignity, and did not succeed in making the
slightest sound. On their way home, Pavel Afanasievitch whispered to his
parent, 'Well, father?' Afanasey Lukitch responded angrily also in a
whisper, 'Don't speak of it!'

The Rogatchovs began to be less frequent visitors at Lutchinovka. Though
indeed they were not the only people intimidated by Vassily; he awakened
in his own brothers, in their wives, in Anna Pavlovna herself, an
instinctive feeling of uneasiness and discomfort... they tried to avoid
him in every way they could. Vassily must have noticed this, but
apparently had no intention of altering his behaviour to them. Suddenly,
at the beginning of the spring, he became once more the charming,
attractive person they had known of old...

The first symptom of this sudden transformation was Vassily's unexpected
visit to the Rogatchovs. Afanasey Lukitch, in particular, was fairly
disconcerted at the sight of Lutchinov's carriage, but his dismay very
quickly vanished. Never had Vassily been more courteous and delightful.
He took young Rogatchov by the arm, went with him to look at the new
buildings, talked to the carpenters, made some suggestions, with his own
hands chopped a few chips off with the axe, asked to be shown Afanasey
Lukitch's stud horses, himself trotted them out on a halter, and
altogether so affected the good-hearted children of the steppes by his
gracious affability that they both embraced him more than once. At home,
too, Vassily managed, in the course of a few days, to turn every one's
head just as before. He contrived all sorts of laughable games, got hold
of musicians, invited the ladies and gentlemen of the neighbourhood,
told the old ladies the scandals of the town in the most amusing way,
flirted a little with the young ones, invented unheard-of diversions,
fireworks and such things, in short, he put life into every thing and
every one. The melancholy, gloomy house of the Lutchinovs was suddenly
converted into a noisy, brilliant, enchanted palace of which the whole
countryside was talking. This sudden transformation surprised many and
delighted all. All sorts of rumours began to be whispered about.
Sagacious persons opined that Vassily Ivanovitch had till then been
crushed under the weight of some secret trouble, that he saw chances of
returning to the capital... but the true cause of Vassily Ivanovitch's
metamorphosis was guessed by no one.

Olga Ivanovna, gentlemen, was rather pretty; though her beauty consisted
rather in the extraordinary softness and freshness of her shape, in the
quiet grace of her movements than in the strict regularity of her
features. Nature had bestowed on her a certain independence; her
bringing up--she had grown up without father or mother--had developed in
her reserve and determination. Olga did not belong to the class of quiet
and tame-spirited young ladies; but only one feeling had reached its
full possibilities in her as yet--hatred for her benefactor. Other more
feminine passions might indeed flare up in Olga Ivanovna's heart with
abnormal and painful violence... but she had not the cold pride, nor the
intense strength of will, nor the self-centred egoism, without which any
passion passes quickly away.
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