White Nights Page #3

"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

								

deny it, as much so as you were a minute ago when that gentleman alarmed
you. I am in some alarm now. It's like a dream, and I never guessed even
in my sleep that I should ever talk with any woman."

"What? Really?..."

"Yes; if my arm trembles, it is because it has never been held by a
pretty little hand like yours. I am a complete stranger to women; that
is, I have never been used to them. You see, I am alone.... I don't even
know how to talk to them. Here, I don't know now whether I have not said
something silly to you! Tell me frankly; I assure you beforehand that I
am not quick to take offence?..."

"No, nothing, nothing, quite the contrary. And if you insist on my
speaking frankly, I will tell you that women like such timidity; and if
you want to know more, I like it too, and I won't drive you away till I
get home."

"You will make me," I said, breathless with delight, "lose my timidity,
and then farewell to all my chances...."

"Chances! What chances--of what? That's not so nice."

"I beg your pardon, I am sorry, it was a slip of the tongue; but how can
you expect one at such a moment to have no desire...."

"To be liked, eh?"

"Well, yes; but do, for goodness' sake, be kind. Think what I am! Here,
I am twenty-six and I have never seen any one. How can I speak well,
tactfully, and to the point? It will seem better to you when I have told
you everything openly.... I don't know how to be silent when my heart is
speaking. Well, never mind.... Believe me, not one woman, never, never!
No acquaintance of any sort! And I do nothing but dream every day that
at last I shall meet some one. Oh, if only you knew how often I have
been in love in that way...."

"How? With whom?..."

"Why, with no one, with an ideal, with the one I dream of in my sleep. I
make up regular romances in my dreams. Ah, you don't know me! It's true,
of course, I have met two or three women, but what sort of women were
they? They were all landladies, that.... But I shall make you laugh if I
tell you that I have several times thought of speaking, just simply
speaking, to some aristocratic lady in the street, when she is alone, I
need hardly say; speaking to her, of course, timidly, respectfully,
passionately; telling her that I am perishing in solitude, begging her
not to send me away; saying that I have no chance of making the
acquaintance of any woman; impressing upon her that it is a positive
duty for a woman not to repulse so timid a prayer from such a luckless
man as me. That, in fact, all I ask is, that she should say two or three
sisterly words with sympathy, should not repulse me at first sight;
should take me on trust and listen to what I say; should laugh at me if
she likes, encourage me, say two words to me, only two words, even
though we never meet again afterwards!... But you are laughing; however,
that is why I am telling you...."

"Don't be vexed; I am only laughing at your being your own enemy, and if
you had tried you would have succeeded, perhaps, even though it had been
in the street; the simpler the better.... No kind-hearted woman, unless
she were stupid or, still more, vexed about something at the moment,
could bring herself to send you away without those two words which you
ask for so timidly.... But what am I saying? Of course she would take
you for a madman. I was judging by myself; I know a good deal about
other people's lives."

"Oh, thank you," I cried; "you don't know what you have done for me
now!"

"I am glad! I am glad! But tell me how did you find out that I was the
sort of woman with whom ... well, whom you think worthy ... of attention
and friendship ... in fact, not a landlady as you say? What made you
decide to come up to me?"

"What made me?... But you were alone; that gentleman was too insolent;
it's night. You must admit that it was a duty...."

"No, no; I mean before, on the other side--you know you meant to come up
to me."

"On the other side? Really I don't know how to answer; I am afraid
to.... Do you know I have been happy to-day? I walked along singing; I
went out into the country; I have never had such happy moments. You ...
perhaps it was my fancy.... Forgive me for referring to it; I fancied
you were crying, and I ... could not bear to hear it ... it made my
heart ache.... Oh, my goodness! Surely I might be troubled about you?
Surely there was no harm in feeling brotherly compassion for you.... I
beg your pardon, I said compassion.... Well, in short, surely you would
not be offended at my involuntary impulse to go up to you?..."

"Stop, that's enough, don't talk of it," said the girl, looking down,
and pressing my hand. "It's my fault for having spoken of it; but I am
glad I was not mistaken in you.... But here I am home; I must go down
this turning, it's two steps from here.... Good-bye, thank you!..."

"Surely ... surely you don't mean ... that we shall never see each other
again?... Surely this is not to be the end?"

"You see," said the girl, laughing, "at first you only wanted two words,
and now.... However, I won't say anything ... perhaps we shall meet...."

"I shall come here to-morrow," I said. "Oh, forgive me, I am already
making demands...."

"Yes, you are not very patient ... you are almost insisting."

"Listen, listen!" I interrupted her. "Forgive me if I tell you something
else.... I tell you what, I can't help coming here to-morrow, I am a
dreamer; I have so little real life that I look upon such moments as
this now, as so rare, that I cannot help going over such moments again
in my dreams. I shall be dreaming of you all night, a whole week, a
whole year. I shall certainly come here to-morrow, just here to this
place, just at the same hour, and I shall be happy remembering to-day.
This place is dear to me already. I have already two or three such
places in Petersburg. I once shed tears over memories ... like you....
Who knows, perhaps you were weeping ten minutes ago over some memory....
But, forgive me, I have forgotten myself again; perhaps you have once
been particularly happy here...."

"Very good," said the girl, "perhaps I will come here to-morrow, too, at
ten o'clock. I see that I can't forbid you.... The fact is, I have to be
here; don't imagine that I am making an appointment with you; I tell you
beforehand that I have to be here on my own account. But ... well, I
tell you straight out, I don't mind if you do come. To begin with,
something unpleasant might happen as it did to-day, but never mind
that.... In short, I should simply like to see you ... to say two words
to you. Only, mind, you must not think the worse of me now! Don't think
I make appointments so lightly.... I shouldn't make it except that....
But let that be my secret! Only a compact beforehand...."
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes