an open door; you turn round and ask the hostess:
‘Madam, will you permit me to close the door; I have a peculiar nervous sensation: I cannot abide sitting with my back to an open door.’
You laugh, she laughs.
But sometimes upon entering the drawing-room you will be greeted by a general:
‘But we were just talking about you …’
And you reply:
‘I expect heart gave the tidings to heart.’
They all laugh.You also laugh: as though here there were no ‘suddenly’.
But sometimes the alien ‘suddenly’ will look at you from behind the shoulders of your interlocutor, wishing to get your own ‘suddenly’ by scent.Between you and your interlocutor there will take place something that suddenly makes your eyes flutter, while your interlocutor will become drier.Afterwards there will be something he will not forgive you all his life.
Your ‘suddenly’ is nourished by your cerebral play; the vileness of your thoughts it devours gladly, like a dog; it swells up, you melt like a candle; if your thoughts are vile and a trembling takes possession of you, then ‘suddenly’, having gorged itself with all forms of vileness, like a fattened but invisible dog, it will everywhere begin to precede you, provoking in a casual observer the impression that you are screened from view by a black cloud invisible to the gaze: this is the shaggy ‘suddenly’, your faithful domovoi (I knew an unfortunate fellow whose black cloud was very nearly visible to the gaze: he was a literary man …)
We left the stranger in the little restaurant. Suddenly the stranger turned round impetuously; it seemed to him that a certain nasty slime, penetrating under his collar, had seeped along his backbone.But when he turned round, there was no one behind his back: gloomily, it seemed, gaped the door of the restaurant entrance; and from there, from the door, thronged the invisible .
At this point he pondered: up the staircase was coming, of course, the person he had been waiting for; in a moment or two he would come in; but he did not come in; in the doorway there was no one.
And when my stranger turned away from the door, through the doorway immediately walked the unpleasant fat man; and, as he went up to the stranger, he made a floorboard creak; the yellowish face, shaven, very slightly inclined to one side, floated smoothly in its own double chin; and moreover the face glistened.
Here my stranger turned round and started: the person was cordially waving a semi-sealskin hat with earflaps at him:
‘Aleksandr Ivanovich …’
‘Lippanchenko!’
‘Yes, it’s me …’
‘Lippanchenko, you are making me wait.’
The person’s shirt collar was tied with a necktie – satin-red, loud, and fastened with a large paste jewel, a dark yellow striped suit enveloped the person; while on his yellow shoes gleamed brilliant polish.
Taking a seat at the stranger’s table, the person exclaimed contentedly:
‘A pot of coffee!… And – listen, some cognac: my bottle’s there, registered under my name …’
And around them was heard:
‘You – did you drink with me?’
‘I did.’
‘Did you eat?…’
‘I ate …’
‘Well, with your permission, let me tell you that you’re a pig …’
‘Be more careful,’ cried my stranger: the unpleasant fat man, called Lippanchenko by the stranger, was just about to put his dark yellow elbow on a sheet of newspaper: the sheet of newspaper covered the little bundle.
‘What?’ Here Lippanchenko, lifting the sheet of newspaper, caught sight of the small bundle: and Lippanchenko’s lips trembled.
‘Is that … that … it?’
‘Yes: that’s it.’
Lippanchenko’s lips continued to tremble: Lippanchenko’s lips recalled little pieces of sliced-up salmon, – not yellow-red, but buttery and yellow (the kind of salmon you have probably eaten with bliny in a poor household).
‘How careless you are, Aleksandr Ivanovich, may I observe to you.’ Lippanchenko stretched out his coarse fingers
‘Madam, will you permit me to close the door; I have a peculiar nervous sensation: I cannot abide sitting with my back to an open door.’
You laugh, she laughs.
But sometimes upon entering the drawing-room you will be greeted by a general:
‘But we were just talking about you …’
And you reply:
‘I expect heart gave the tidings to heart.’
They all laugh.You also laugh: as though here there were no ‘suddenly’.
But sometimes the alien ‘suddenly’ will look at you from behind the shoulders of your interlocutor, wishing to get your own ‘suddenly’ by scent.Between you and your interlocutor there will take place something that suddenly makes your eyes flutter, while your interlocutor will become drier.Afterwards there will be something he will not forgive you all his life.
Your ‘suddenly’ is nourished by your cerebral play; the vileness of your thoughts it devours gladly, like a dog; it swells up, you melt like a candle; if your thoughts are vile and a trembling takes possession of you, then ‘suddenly’, having gorged itself with all forms of vileness, like a fattened but invisible dog, it will everywhere begin to precede you, provoking in a casual observer the impression that you are screened from view by a black cloud invisible to the gaze: this is the shaggy ‘suddenly’, your faithful domovoi (I knew an unfortunate fellow whose black cloud was very nearly visible to the gaze: he was a literary man …)
We left the stranger in the little restaurant. Suddenly the stranger turned round impetuously; it seemed to him that a certain nasty slime, penetrating under his collar, had seeped along his backbone.But when he turned round, there was no one behind his back: gloomily, it seemed, gaped the door of the restaurant entrance; and from there, from the door, thronged the invisible .
At this point he pondered: up the staircase was coming, of course, the person he had been waiting for; in a moment or two he would come in; but he did not come in; in the doorway there was no one.
And when my stranger turned away from the door, through the doorway immediately walked the unpleasant fat man; and, as he went up to the stranger, he made a floorboard creak; the yellowish face, shaven, very slightly inclined to one side, floated smoothly in its own double chin; and moreover the face glistened.
Here my stranger turned round and started: the person was cordially waving a semi-sealskin hat with earflaps at him:
‘Aleksandr Ivanovich …’
‘Lippanchenko!’
‘Yes, it’s me …’
‘Lippanchenko, you are making me wait.’
The person’s shirt collar was tied with a necktie – satin-red, loud, and fastened with a large paste jewel, a dark yellow striped suit enveloped the person; while on his yellow shoes gleamed brilliant polish.
Taking a seat at the stranger’s table, the person exclaimed contentedly:
‘A pot of coffee!… And – listen, some cognac: my bottle’s there, registered under my name …’
And around them was heard:
‘You – did you drink with me?’
‘I did.’
‘Did you eat?…’
‘I ate …’
‘Well, with your permission, let me tell you that you’re a pig …’
‘Be more careful,’ cried my stranger: the unpleasant fat man, called Lippanchenko by the stranger, was just about to put his dark yellow elbow on a sheet of newspaper: the sheet of newspaper covered the little bundle.
‘What?’ Here Lippanchenko, lifting the sheet of newspaper, caught sight of the small bundle: and Lippanchenko’s lips trembled.
‘Is that … that … it?’
‘Yes: that’s it.’
Lippanchenko’s lips continued to tremble: Lippanchenko’s lips recalled little pieces of sliced-up salmon, – not yellow-red, but buttery and yellow (the kind of salmon you have probably eaten with bliny in a poor household).
‘How careless you are, Aleksandr Ivanovich, may I observe to you.’ Lippanchenko stretched out his coarse fingers
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