Doctor Zhivago (17 page)

But now he had changed beyond recognition. He made no demands, never reminded her of the past, and never even came. And all that time he kept at a distance from her, and most nobly offered to help her.

Kologrivov
'
s visit was something entirely different. She was overjoyed when he came. Not because he was tall and handsome, but because of his overflowing vitality, her visitor with his shining eyes and intelligent smile filled half the space in her room, making it seem crowded.

He sat by her bed rubbing his hands. On the occasions when he was summoned to attend a ministerial meeting in Petersburg he spoke to the old dignitaries as if they were schoolboys; but now he saw before him a girl who till recently had been part of his household, something like a daughter to him, with whom, as with all other members of his family, he had exchanged words and glances only casually (this constituted the characteristic charm of their closeness, and both he and his family were aware of this). He could not treat Lara as an adult, with gravity and indifference. He did not know how to speak to her without offending her.
"
What
'
s the big idea?
"
he said smilingly, as if she were a child.
"
Who wants these melodramas?
"

He paused, and glanced at the damp stains on the walls and ceiling. Then, shaking his head reproachfully, he went on:

"
There
'
s an international exhibition opening at Düsseldorf—painting, sculpture, gardening. I
'
m going. You know, it
'
s a bit damp here. And how long do you think you
'
re going to wander about from pillar to post without a proper place to live in? This Voit woman, between ourselves, is no good, I know her. Why don
'
t you move out? You
'
ve been ill in bed long enough—time you got up. Change your room, take up something, finish your studies. There
'
s a painter, a friend of mine, who
'
s going to Turkistan for two years. He
'
s got partitions up in his studio—it
'
s more like a small flat. I think he
'
d turn it over furnished to somebody who
'
d look after it. How about my fixing it up? And there
'
s another thing. I
'
ve been meaning to do it for a long time, it
'
s a sacred duty…since Lipa…Here
'
s a small sum, a bonus for her graduation. No, please…No, I beg you, don
'
t be stubborn…no, really you
'
ll have to ...
"

And in spite of her protests, her tears, and her struggles, he forced her, before he left, to accept a check for ten thousand rubles.

When she recovered, Lara moved to the lodgings Kologrivov had recommended, near the Smolensky Market. The flat was at the top of an old-fashioned two-story house. There were teamsters living in the other part of it, and there was a warehouse on the ground floor. The cobbled yard was always littered with spilled oats and hay. Pigeons strutted about cooing and fluttered up noisily to the level of Lara
'
s window whenever a drove of rats scurried down the stone gutter.

Lara was greatly troubled about Pasha. So long as she was seriously ill he had not been allowed to see her, and what could he be expected to think? Lara had tried to kill a man who, as he saw it, was no more than an acquaintance of hers, and this same man, the object of her unsuccessful attempt at murder, had afterwards shielded her from its consequences. And all that after their memorable conversation at Christmas, by candlelight. If it had not been for this man, Lara would have been arrested and tried. He had warded off the punishment that hung over her. Thanks to him she was able to continue her studies, safe and unharmed. Pasha was puzzled and tormented.

When she was better Lara sent for him and said:
"
I am a bad woman. You don
'
t know me, someday I
'
ll tell you. I can
'
t talk about it now, you can see for yourself, every time I try I start crying. But enough, forget me, I
'
m not worthy of you.
"

There followed heart-rending scenes, each more unbearable than the last. All this went on, while Lara was still living in Arbat Street, and Voitkovskaia, meeting Pasha in the corridor with his tear-stained face, would rush off to her room and collapse on her sofa laughing herself sick.
"
Oh, I can
'
t, I can
'
t, it
'
s too much!
"
she exclaimed.
"
Really! The hero! Ha, ha, ha!
"

To deliver Pasha from a disgraceful attachment, to tear out his love for her by the roots and put an end to his torment, Lara told him that she had decided to give him up because she did not love him, but in making this renunciation she sobbed so much that it was impossible to believe her. Pasha suspected her of all the deadly sins, disbelieved every word she said, was ready to curse and hate her, but he loved her to distraction and was jealous of her very thoughts, and of the mug she drank from and of the pillow on which she lay. If they were not to go insane they must act quickly and firmly. They made up their minds to get married at once, before graduation. The idea was to have the wedding on the Monday after Low Sunday. At Lara
'
s wish it was again put off.

They were married on Whit Monday; by then it was quite clear that they had passed their examinations. All the arrangements were made by Liudmila Kapitonovna Chepurko, the mother of Lara
'
s fellow student Tusia. Liudmila was a handsome woman with a high bosom, a fine low-pitched singing voice, and a head full of innumerable superstitions, some of them picked up and others invented by herself.

The day Lara was to be
"
led to the altar
"
(as Liudmila purred in her gypsy voice while helping her to dress) it was terribly hot. The golden domes of churches and the freshly sanded paths in the town gardens were a glaring yellow. The green birch saplings cut on Whitsun Eve hung over the church railings, dusty, their leaves rolled up into little scrolls and as though scorched. There was hardly a breath of air, and the sunshine made spots before your eyes. It was as though a thousand weddings were to be held that day, for all the girls were in white dresses like brides and had curled their hair and all the young men were pomaded and wore tight-fitting black suits. Everyone was excited and everyone was hot.

As Lara stepped on the carpet leading to the altar, Lagodina, the mother of another friend, threw a handful of small silver coins at her feet to ensure the future prosperity of the couple; and with the same intention Liudmila told her that, when the wedding crown was held over her head, she must not make the sign of the cross with her bare fingers but cover them with the edge of her veil or a lace frill. She also told Lara to hold her candle high in order to have the upper hand in her house. Lara, sacrificing her future to Pasha
'
s, held her candle as low as she could, but all in vain, because however low she held it Pasha held his lower still.

Straight from the church they drove to the wedding breakfast at the studio to which the couple moved. The guests shouted,
"
It
'
s bitter!
"
and others responded unanimously from the end of the room,
"
Make it sweet!
"
and the bride and bridegroom smiled shyly and kissed. Liudmila sang
"
The Vineyard
"
in their honor, with the double refrain
"
God give you love and concord,
"
and a song that began
"
Undo the braid, scatter the fair hair.
"

When all the guests had gone and they were left alone, Pasha felt uneasy in the sudden silence. A street lamp shone from across the road, and however tightly Lara drew the curtains, a streak of light, narrow as a board, reached into the room. This light gave Pasha no rest, he felt as if they were being watched. He discovered to his horror that he was thinking more of the street lamp than of Lara or of himself or of his love for her.

During this night, which lasted an eternity, Antipov (
"
Stepanida,
"
or
"
the fair maiden,
"
as he was called by his fellow students) reached the heights of joy and the lowest depths of despair. His suspicious guesses alternated with Lara
'
s confessions. He questioned her, and with each of her answers his spirit sank as though he were hurtling down a void. His wounded imagination could not keep up with her revelations.

They talked till morning. In all Pasha
'
s life there had not been a change in him so decisive and abrupt as in the course of this night. He got up a different man, almost astonished that he was still called Pasha Antipov.

Nine days later their friends arranged a farewell party for them, in that same room. Both Pasha and Lara had graduated with flying colors, and both had been offered jobs in the same town in the Urals. They were setting out for it next day.

Again they drank and sang and were boisterous, but this time there were only young people present.

Behind the partition that separated the living quarters from the studio, there stood a big wicker hamper and another, smaller one of Lara
'
s, a suitcase, a box of crockery, and several sacks. There was a lot of luggage. Part of it was being sent next day by freight. Almost everything was packed, but there was still a little room left in the box and in the hampers. Every now and then Lara thought of something else she meant to take and put it into one of the hampers, rearranging things to make it tidy.

Pasha was at home entertaining guests by the time Lara got back from the university office where she had gone for her birth certificate and other papers. She came up followed by the janitor with a bundle of sacking and a thick rope for those pieces that were going by freight. After he left, Lara made the round of the guests, shaking hands with some and kissing others, and went behind the partition to change. When she came back, they greeted her with applause, sat down, and a noisy party began, like the one a few days earlier. The more enterprising poured vodka for their neighbors; hands armed with forks stretched toward the center of the table where bread, appetizers, and cooked dishes were set out. There were speeches, toasts, and constant joking. Some got drunk.

"
I
'
m dead tired,
"
said Lara, who was sitting next to her husband.
"
Did you manage to get everything done?
"

"
Yes.
"

"
All the same, I
'
m feeling wonderful. I
'
m so happy. Are you?
"

"
I too. I feel fine. But there
'
s a lot to talk about.
"

As an exception Komarovsky had been allowed to join the young people
'
s party. At the end of the evening he started to say how bereaved he would feel when his two young friends left Moscow—the town would be like a desert, a Sahara; but he became so sentimental that he began to sob, and he had to start all over from the beginning.

He asked the Antipovs
'
permission to write to them and to visit them at Yuriatin, if he missed them too much.

"
That
'
s quite unnecessary,
"
Lara said loudly and nonchalantly.
"
And in general it
'
s all quite pointless—writing, Sahara, and all that. As for coming, don
'
t think of it. With God
'
s help you
'
ll manage without us, we aren
'
t as important as all that. Don
'
t you think so, Pasha? I
'
m sure you
'
ll find other young friends.
"

Then suddenly forgetting with whom she was talking and what she was saying she hurried off to the kitchen. There she took the meat grinder apart and packed the parts into the corners of the crockery case, padding them with tufts of straw. In doing this she scratched herself on the edge of the box and nearly ran a splinter into her hand.

She was suddenly reminded of her guests by a particularly loud outburst of laughter on the other side of the partition. It occurred to her that when people were drunk they always tried to impersonate drunkards, and the drunker they were the more they overacted.