Doctor Zhivago (10 page)

But her mother could not understand.
"
It
'
s always like this,
"
she sobbed.
"
Just when I can
'
t think straight you come out with something that simply astounds me. People play a dirty trick on me, and you say it
'
s all for my good. No, really, I must be out of my mind.
"

Rodia was at school. Lara and her mother wandered about aimlessly, alone in the empty house. The unlit street stared emptily into the rooms, and the rooms returned its stare.

"
Let
'
s go to the hotel, Mother, before it gets dark,
"
Lara begged.
"
Do come, Mother. Don
'
t put it off, let
'
s go now.
"

"
Filat, Filat,
"
they called the janitor.
"
Take us to the Montenegro, be a good boy.
"

"
Very good, Madam.
"

"
Take the bundles over. And keep an eye on the house, Filat, until things sort themselves out. And please don
'
t forget the bird seed for Kirill Modestovich, and to change his water. And keep everything locked up. That
'
s all, I think, and please keep in touch with us.
"

"
Very well, Madam.
"

"
Thank you, Filat. God keep you. Well, let
'
s sit down
[4]
and then we must be off.
"

When they went out the fresh air seemed as unfamiliar as after weeks of illness. Noises, rounded, as if turned on a lathe, rolled echoing lightly through the crisp, frosty, nut-clean space. Shots and salvoes smacked, thudded, and plopped, flattening the distances into a pancake.

However much Filat tried to convince them to the contrary, Lara and Amalia Karlovna insisted that the shots were blanks.

"
Don
'
t be silly, Filat. Think it out for yourself. How could they be anything but blanks when you can
'
t see anyone shooting? Who d
'
you think is shooting, the Holy Ghost or what? Of course they
'
re blanks.
"

At one of the crossroads they were stopped by a patrol of grinning Cossacks who searched them, insolently running their hands over them from head to foot. Their visorless caps with chin straps were tilted jauntily over one ear; it made all of them look one-eyed.

"
Wonderful,
"
thought Lara as she walked on. She would not see Komarovsky for as long as the district was cut off from the rest of the town. Because of her mother it was impossible for her to break with him. She could not say:
"
Mother, please stop seeing him.
"
If she did that, it would all come out. And what if it did? Why should that frighten her? Oh, God! Anything, anything, if only it would end! God! God! She would fall down in a faint with disgust. What was it she had just remembered? What was the name of that frightful picture? There was a fat Roman in it. It hung in the first of those private rooms, the one where it all began.
"
The Woman or the Vase
"
—yes, that was it. Of course. It was a famous picture. The woman or the vase. When she first saw it she was not yet a woman, she was not yet comparable to an expensive work of art. That came later. The table was splendidly set for a feast.

"
Where do you think you are running like that? I can
'
t keep up with you,
"
panted Madame Guishar. Lara walked swiftly, some unknown force swept her on as though she were striding on air, carried along by this proud, quickening strength.

"
How splendid,
"
she thought, listening to the gun shots.
"
Blessed are the downtrodden. Blessed are the deceived. God speed you, bullets. You and I are of one mind.
"

The brothers Gromeko had a house at the corner of Sivtsev Vrazhok and another small street. Alexander Alexandrovich and Nikolai Alexandrovich Gromeko were professors of chemistry, the one at the Peter
'
s Academy, the other at the University. Nikolai was unmarried. Alexander had a wife, Anna Ivanovna, N
é
e Krueger. Her father was an ironmaster; he owned an enormous estate in the Urals, near Yuriatin, on which there were several abandoned, unprofitable mines.

The Gromekos
'
house had two stories. On the top floor were the bedrooms, the schoolroom, Alexander Alexandrovich
'
s study and his library, Anna Ivanovna
'
s boudoir, and Tonia
'
s and Yura
'
s rooms. The ground floor was used for receptions. Its pistachio-colored curtains, gleaming piano top, aquarium, olive-green upholstery, and potted plants resembling seaweed made it look like a green, sleepily swaying sea bed.

The Gromekos were cultivated, hospitable, and great connoisseurs and lovers of music. They often held receptions and evenings of chamber music at which piano trios, violin sonatas, and string quartets were performed.

Such a musical evening was to be held in January, 1906. There was to be a first performance of a violin sonata by a young composer, a pupil of Taneiev
'
s, and a trio by Tchaikovsky.

The preparations were begun the day before. The furniture was moved around in the ballroom. In one corner the piano tuner struck the same chord dozens of times and scattered arpeggios like handfuls of beads. In the kitchen, chickens were being plucked, vegetables cleaned, and mustard mixed with olive oil for sauces and salad dressings.

Shura Shlesinger, Anna
'
s bosom friend and confidante, had come first thing in the morning, making a nuisance of herself.

She was a tall thin woman with regular features and a rather masculine face which recalled the Emperor
'
s, especially when she wore her gray astrakhan hat set at an angle; she kept it on in the house, only slightly raising the veil pinned to it.

In times of sorrow or anxiety the two friends lightened each other
'
s burdens. They did this by saying unpleasant things to each other, their conversation becoming increasingly caustic until an emotional storm burst and soon ended in tears and a reconciliation. These periodic quarrels had a tranquillizing effect on both, like the application of leeches for high blood pressure.

Shura Shlesinger had been married several times, but she forgot her husbands as soon as she divorced them, and despite her many marriages there was a certain coldness, like that of a spinster, about her.

She was a theosophist, but she was also an expert on the ritual of the Orthodox Church, and even when she was
toute transport
é
e
,
in a state of utter ecstasy, could not refrain from prompting the officiating clergy.
"
Hear, O Lord,
"
"
Now and ever shall be,
"
"
glorious cherubim
"
she muttered ceaselessly in her hoarse, staccato patter.

Shura Shlesinger knew mathematics, esoteric Indian doctrine, the addresses of the best-known teachers at the Moscow Conservatory, who was living with whom, and God only knows what else. For this reason she was called in, as arbiter and organizer, on all important occasions in life.

At the appointed time the guests began to arrive. There came Adelaida Filippovna, Gints, the Fufkovs, Mr. and Mrs. Basurman, the Verzhitskis, Colonel Kavkaztsev. It was snowing, and whenever the front door was opened you could see the swirling air rush past, as though tangled in a thousand knots by the flickering snow. The men came in out of the cold in high clumsy snow boots, and every one of them, without exception, did his best to look like a country bumpkin; but their wives, on the contrary, their faces glowing from the frost, coats unbuttoned, shawls pushed back and hair spangled with rime, looked like hardened coquettes, cunning itself.
"
Cui
'
s nephew,
"
the whisper went round as the new pianist came in.

Beyond the open side doors of the ballroom the supper table gleamed, white and long as a winter road. The play of light on frosted bottles of red rowanberry cordial caught the eye. The crystal cruets on silver stands and the picturesque arrangement of game and
zakuski
[5]
captured the imagination. The napkins folded into stiff pyramids and the baskets of mauve cineraria smelling of almonds seemed to whet the appetite.

Not to delay the pleasure of earthly food too long, the company got down hastily to their spiritual repast. They sat down in rows.
"
Cui
'
s nephew,
"
they whispered again as the musician took his place at the piano. The concert began.

The sonata was known to be dry, labored, and boring. The performance confirmed this belief, and the work turned out to be terribly long as well.

During the interval the critic Kerimbekov and Alexander Gromeko had an argument about it, Kerimbekov running it down and Gromeko defending it. All around them people smoked, talked, and moved their chairs, till the glittering tablecloth in the adjoining room once again attracted attention. All proposed that the concert be resumed without delay.

The pianist cast a sideways glance at the audience, and signalled his partners to begin. The violinist and Tyshkevich flourished their bows. The music rose plaintively.

Yura, Tonia, and Misha Gordon, who spent half his time at the Gromekos
'
, were sitting in the third row.

"
Egorovna is making signs at you,
"
Yura whispered to Alexander Alexandrovich, who sat directly in front of him.

Egorovna, the Gromekos
'
white-haired old servant, stood in the doorway and by staring desperately at Yura and nodding with equal energy at Alexander Alexandrovich tried to make Yura understand that she needed urgently to speak to the master.

Alexander Alexandrovich turned, gave her a reproachful look, and shrugged his shoulders, but she stood her ground. Soon they were talking across the room by signs, like a couple of deaf-mutes. People were looking. Anna Ivanovna cast devastating glances at her husband. He got up. Something had to be done. Blushing, he tiptoed around the edge of the room.

"
How can you do such a thing, Egorovna! Really now, what
'
s all the fuss? Well, hurry up, what is it?
"

Egorovna whispered in his ear.

"
What Montenegro?
"

"
The hotel.
"

"
Well, what about it?
"

"
They
'
re asking for him to go back at once. There
'
s a relative of his dying.
"

"
So now they
'
re dying! I can imagine.… It can
'
t be done, Egorovna. When they
'
ve finished this piece I
'
ll tell them. Until then I can
'
t.
"

"
They
'
ve sent the hotel waiter with a cab. They
'
re waiting. Somebody
'
s dying, I tell you, can
'
t you understand? It
'
s a lady.
"

"
And I tell you it
'
s impossible. As if a few minutes could make all that difference.
"
He tiptoed back to his place with a worried frown, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

At the end of the first movement, before the applause had died down, he went up to the musicians and told Tyshkevich that he was needed at home, there had been some accident, they would have to stop playing. Then he turned to the audience and held up his hands for silence:

"
Ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid the trio has to be interrupted. The cellist has just received some bad news. All our sympathy is with him. He has to leave us. I wouldn
'
t like him to go by himself at such a moment. He may need help. I
'
ll go with him. Be a good boy, Yurochka, go and tell Semion to bring the carriage around, he
'
s had it ready for some time. Ladies and gentlemen, I won
'
t say goodbye—I beg you all to stay—I won
'
t be long.
"