White Nights Page #2

"White Nights," a novella by Fyodor Dostoevsky, is a poignant exploration of dreams, love, and loneliness set against the backdrop of St. Petersburg's enchanting white nights. The story follows an unnamed narrator, a lonely and introverted young man, who encounters a mysterious woman named Nastenka. Over the course of four nights, they share their dreams, hopes, and vulnerabilities, forming an intense emotional connection. As their relationship unfolds, the narrator grapples with his feelings of unrequited love and the bittersweet nature of human connection. Through this intimate narrative, Dostoevsky delves into themes of isolation, longing, and the complexity of romantic relationships.

• Novel

								

crawling along the Neva or Fontanka to the Black River or the
Islands--the waggons and the boats were multiplied tenfold, a
hundredfold, in my eyes. I fancied that everything was astir and moving,
everything was going in regular caravans to the summer villas. It seemed
as though Petersburg threatened to become a wilderness, so that at last
I felt ashamed, mortified and sad that I had nowhere to go for the
holidays and no reason to go away. I was ready to go away with every
waggon, to drive off with every gentleman of respectable appearance who
took a cab; but no one--absolutely no one--invited me; it seemed they
had forgotten me, as though really I were a stranger to them!

I took long walks, succeeding, as I usually did, in quite forgetting
where I was, when I suddenly found myself at the city gates. Instantly I
felt lighthearted, and I passed the barrier and walked between
cultivated fields and meadows, unconscious of fatigue, and feeling only
all over as though a burden were falling off my soul. All the passers-by
gave me such friendly looks that they seemed almost greeting me, they
all seemed so pleased at something. They were all smoking cigars, every
one of them. And I felt pleased as I never had before. It was as though
I had suddenly found myself in Italy--so strong was the effect of nature
upon a half-sick townsman like me, almost stifling between city walls.

There is something inexpressibly touching in nature round Petersburg,
when at the approach of spring she puts forth all her might, all the
powers bestowed on her by Heaven, when she breaks into leaf, decks
herself out and spangles herself with flowers.... Somehow I cannot help
being reminded of a frail, consumptive girl, at whom one sometimes looks
with compassion, sometimes with sympathetic love, whom sometimes one
simply does not notice; though suddenly in one instant she becomes, as
though by chance, inexplicably lovely and exquisite, and, impressed and
intoxicated, one cannot help asking oneself what power made those sad,
pensive eyes flash with such fire? What summoned the blood to those
pale, wan cheeks? What bathed with passion those soft features? What set
that bosom heaving? What so suddenly called strength, life and beauty
into the poor girl's face, making it gleam with such a smile, kindle
with such bright, sparkling laughter? You look round, you seek for some
one, you conjecture.... But the moment passes, and next day you meet,
maybe, the same pensive and preoccupied look as before, the same pale
face, the same meek and timid movements, and even signs of remorse,
traces of a mortal anguish and regret for the fleeting distraction....
And you grieve that the momentary beauty has faded so soon never to
return, that it flashed upon you so treacherously, so vainly, grieve
because you had not even time to love her....

And yet my night was better than my day! This was how it happened.

I came back to the town very late, and it had struck ten as I was going
towards my lodgings. My way lay along the canal embankment, where at
that hour you never meet a soul. It is true that I live in a very remote
part of the town. I walked along singing, for when I am happy I am
always humming to myself like every happy man who has no friend or
acquaintance with whom to share his joy. Suddenly I had a most
unexpected adventure.

Leaning on the canal railing stood a woman with her elbows on the rail,
she was apparently looking with great attention at the muddy water of
the canal. She was wearing a very charming yellow hat and a jaunty
little black mantle. "She's a girl, and I am sure she is dark," I
thought. She did not seem to hear my footsteps, and did not even stir
when I passed by with bated breath and loudly throbbing heart.

"Strange," I thought; "she must be deeply absorbed in something," and
all at once I stopped as though petrified. I heard a muffled sob. Yes! I
was not mistaken, the girl was crying, and a minute later I heard sob
after sob. Good Heavens! My heart sank. And timid as I was with women,
yet this was such a moment!... I turned, took a step towards her, and
should certainly have pronounced the word "Madam!" if I had not known
that that exclamation has been uttered a thousand times in every Russian
society novel. It was only that reflection stopped me. But while I was
seeking for a word, the girl came to herself, looked round, started,
cast down her eyes and slipped by me along the embankment. I at once
followed her; but she, divining this, left the embankment, crossed the
road and walked along the pavement. I dared not cross the street after
her. My heart was fluttering like a captured bird. All at once a chance
came to my aid.

Along the same side of the pavement there suddenly came into sight, not
far from the girl, a gentleman in evening dress, of dignified years,
though by no means of dignified carriage; he was staggering and
cautiously leaning against the wall. The girl flew straight as an arrow,
with the timid haste one sees in all girls who do not want any one to
volunteer to accompany them home at night, and no doubt the staggering
gentleman would not have pursued her, if my good luck had not prompted
him.

Suddenly, without a word to any one, the gentleman set off and flew full
speed in pursuit of my unknown lady. She was racing like the wind, but
the staggering gentleman was overtaking--overtook her. The girl uttered
a shriek, and ... I bless my luck for the excellent knotted stick, which
happened on that occasion to be in my right hand. In a flash I was on
the other side of the street; in a flash the obtrusive gentleman had
taken in the position, had grasped the irresistible argument, fallen
back without a word, and only when we were very far away protested
against my action in rather vigorous language. But his words hardly
reached us.

"Give me your arm," I said to the girl. "And he won't dare to annoy us
further."

She took my arm without a word, still trembling with excitement and
terror. Oh, obtrusive gentleman! How I blessed you at that moment! I
stole a glance at her, she was very charming and dark--I had guessed
right.

On her black eyelashes there still glistened a tear--from her recent
terror or her former grief--I don't know. But there was already a gleam
of a smile on her lips. She too stole a glance at me, faintly blushed
and looked down.

"There, you see; why did you drive me away? If I had been here, nothing
would have happened...."

"But I did not know you; I thought that you too...."

"Why, do you know me now?"

"A little! Here, for instance, why are you trembling?"

"Oh, you are right at the first guess!" I answered, delighted that my
girl had intelligence; that is never out of place in company with
beauty. "Yes, from the first glance you have guessed the sort of man you
have to do with. Precisely; I am shy with women, I am agitated, I don't
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