Three Portraits Page #6

"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.

								


The first rush of feeling in such half-active, half-passive natures is
sometimes extremely violent; but they give way very quickly, especially
when it is a question of relentless conformity with accepted principles;
they are afraid of consequences.... And yet, gentlemen, I will frankly
confess, women of that sort always make the strongest impression on me.
... (At these words the speaker drank a glass of water. Rubbish!
rubbish! thought I, looking at his round chin; nothing in the world
makes a strong impression on you, my dear fellow!)

Piotr Fedoritch resumed: Gentlemen, I believe in blood, in race. Olga
Ivanovna had more blood than, for instance, her foster sister, Natalia.
How did this blood show itself, do you ask? Why, in everything; in the
lines of her hands, in her lips, in the sound of her voice, in her
glance, in her carriage, in her hair, in the very folds of her gown. In
all these trifles there lay hid something special, though I am bound to
admit that the--how can one express it?--la distinction, which
had fallen to Olga Pavlovna's share would not have attracted Vassily's
notice had he met her in Petersburg. But in the country, in the wilds,
she not only caught his attention, she was positively the sole cause of
the transformation of which I have just been speaking.

Consider the position. Vassily Ivanovitch liked to enjoy life; he could
not but be bored in the country; his brothers were good-natured fellows,
but extremely limited people: he had nothing in common with them. His
sister, Natalia, with the assistance of her husband, had brought into
the world in the course of three years no less than four babies; between
her and Vassily was a perfect gulf.... Anna Pavlovna went to church,
prayed, fasted, and was preparing herself for death. There remained only
Olga--a fresh, shy, pretty girl.... Vassily did not notice her at
first... indeed, who does notice a dependant, an orphan girl kept from
charity in the house?... One day, at the very beginning of spring,
Vassily was walking about the garden, and with his cane slashing off the
heads of the dandelions, those stupid yellow flowers, which come out
first in such numbers in the meadows, as soon as they begin to grow
green. He was walking in the garden in front of the house; he lifted his
head, and caught sight of Olga Ivanovna.

She was sitting sideways at the window, dreamily stroking a tabby
kitten, who, purring and blinking, nestled on her lap, and with great
satisfaction held up her little nose into the rather hot spring
sunshine. Olga Ivanovna was wearing a white morning gown, with short
sleeves; her bare, pale-pink, girlish shoulders and arms were a picture
of freshness and health. A little red cap discreetly restrained her
thick, soft, silky curls. Her face was a little flushed; she was only
just awake. Her slender, flexible neck bent forward so charmingly; there
was such seductive negligence, such modesty in the restful pose of her
figure, free from corsets, that Vassily Ivanovitch (a great
connoisseur!) halted involuntarily and peeped in. It suddenly occurred
to him that Olga Ivanovna ought not to be left in her primitive
ignorance; that she might with time be turned into a very sweet and
charming woman. He stole up to the window, stretched up on tiptoe, and
imprinted a silent kiss on Olga Ivanovna's smooth, white arm, a little
below the elbow.

Olga shrieked and jumped up, the kitten put its tail in the air and
leaped into the garden. Vassily Ivanovitch with a smile kept her by the
arm.... Olga flushed all over, to her ears; he began to rally her on her
alarm... invited her to come a walk with him. But Olga Ivanovna became
suddenly conscious of the negligence of her attire, and 'swifter than
the swift red deer' she slipped away into the next room.

The very same day Vassily set off to the Rogatchovs. He was suddenly
happy and light-hearted. Vassily was not in love with Olga, no! the word
'love' is not to be used lightly.... He had found an occupation, had set
himself a task, and rejoiced with the delight of a man of action. He did
not even remember that she was his mother's ward, and another man's
betrothed. He never for one instant deceived himself; he was fully aware
that it was not for her to be his wife.... Possibly there was passion to
excuse him--not a very elevated nor noble passion, truly, but still a
fairly strong and tormenting passion. Of course he was not in love like
a boy; he did not give way to vague ecstasies; he knew very well what he
wanted and what he was striving for.

Vassily was a perfect master of the art of winning over, in the shortest
time, any one however shy or prejudiced against him. Olga soon ceased to
be shy with him. Vassily Ivanovitch led her into a new world. He ordered
a clavichord for her, gave her music lessons (he himself played fairly
well on the flute), read books aloud to her, had long conversations with
her.... The poor child of the steppes soon had her head turned
completely. Vassily dominated her entirely. He knew how to tell her of
what had been till then unknown to her, and to tell her in a language
she could understand. Olga little by little gained courage to express
all her feelings to him: he came to her aid, helped her out with the
words she could not find, did not alarm her, at one moment kept her
back, at another encouraged her confidences.... Vassily busied himself
with her education from no disinterested desire to awaken and develop
her talents. He simply wanted to draw her a little closer to himself;
and he knew too that an innocent, shy, but vain young girl is more
easily seduced through the mind than the heart. Even if Olga had been an
exceptional being, Vassily would never have perceived it, for he treated
her like a child. But as you are aware, gentlemen, there was nothing
specially remarkable in Olga. Vassily tried all he could to work on her
imagination, and often in the evening she left his side with such a
whirl of new images, phrases and ideas in her head that she could not
sleep all night, but lay breathing uneasily and turning her burning
cheeks from side to side on the cool pillows, or got up, went to the
window and gazed fearfully and eagerly into the dark distance. Vassily
filled every moment of her life; she could not think of any one else. As
for Rogatchov, she soon positively ceased to notice his existence.
Vassily had the tact and shrewdness not to talk to Olga in his presence;
but he either made him laugh till he was ready to cry, or arranged some
noisy entertainment, a riding expedition, a boating party by night with
torches and music--he did not in fact let Pavel Afanasievitch have a
chance to think clearly.

But in spite of all Vassily Ivanovitch's tact, Rogatchov dimly felt that
he, Olga's betrothed and future husband, had somehow become as it were
an outsider to her... but in the boundless goodness of his heart, he was
afraid of wounding her by reproaches, though he sincerely loved her and
prized her affection. When left alone with her, he did not know what to
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