 Part 5 of the Diary of a Superfluous Man. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson. The Diary of a Superfluous Man by Ivan Turgenev. Translated by Constance Garnet. Part 5. March the 29th. A slight frost. Yesterday it was thawing. Yesterday I had not the strength to go on with my diary. Like Poprishchin I lay for the most part on my bed and talked to Terentievna. What a woman! Sixty years ago she lost her first betrothed from the plague. She has outlived all her children. She is inexcusably old. Drinks tea to her heart's desire. It's well-fed and warmly clothed. And what do you suppose she was talking to me about all day yesterday? I had sent another utterly destitute old woman, the collar of an old livery, half moth-eaten, to put on her vest. She wears strips over the chest by way of vest. And why wasn't it given to her? But I'm your nurse, I should think. Oh, my good sir, it's too bad of you after I've looked after you as I have. And so on. The merciless old woman utterly wore me out with her reproaches but to get back to my story. And so I suffered like a dog whose hind quarters have been run over by a wheel. It was only then, only after my banishment from the Ojugyn's house, that I fully realised how much happiness a man can extract from the contemplation of his own unhappiness. Oh, men, pitiful race indeed. But away with philosophical reflections. I spent my days in complete solitude and could only by the most roundabout and even humiliating methods find out what was passing in the Ojugyn's household and what the Prince was doing. My man had made friends with the cousin of the latter's coachman's wife. This acquaintance afforded me some slight relief and my man soon guessed from my hints and little presents what he was to talk about to his master when he pulled his boots off every evening. Sometimes I'd chance to meet some one of the Ojugyn's family, Bismiankov, or the Prince in the street. To the Prince and to Bismiankov I bowed but I did not enter into conversation with them. Lisa I only saw three times, once with her mamar in a fashionable shop, once in an open carriage with her father and mother and the Prince and once in church. Of course I was not impudent enough to approach her and only watched her from a distance. In the shop she was very much preoccupied but cheerful. She was ordering something for herself and busily matching ribbons. Her mother was gazing at her with her hands folded on her lap and nose in the air smiling with that foolish and devoted smile which is only permissible in adoring mothers. In the carriage with the Prince, Lisa was... I shall never forget that meeting. The old people were sitting in the back seats of the carriage, the Prince and Lisa in the front. She was paler than usual. On her cheek two patches of pink could just be seen. They were all facing the Prince. Leaning on her straight right arm in the left hand she was holding a sunshade with a little head drooping languidly she was looking straight into his face with her expressive eyes. At that instant she surrendered herself utterly to him entrusted herself to him forever. I had not time to get a good look at his face. The carriage galloped by too quickly. But I fancy that he too was deeply touched. The third time I saw her in church not more than ten days had passed since the day when I met her in the carriage with the Prince not more than three weeks since the day of my duel. The business upon which the Prince had come to owe was by now completed but he still kept putting off his departure. At Petersburg he was reported to be ill in the town it was expected every day that he would make a proposal in form to Kirila Matveich. I was myself only awaiting this final blow to go away forever. The town of O had grown hateful to me. I could not stay indoors and wandered from morning to night about the suburbs. One gray gloomy day as I was coming back from a walk which had been cut short by the rain I went into a church. The evening service had only just begun there were very few people. I looked round me and suddenly near a window caught sight of a familiar profile. For the first instant I did not recognise it. That pale face that spiritless glance those sunken cheeks could it be the same Lisa I had seen a fortnight before wrapped in a cloak without a hat on with the cold light from the broad white window falling on her from one side she was gazing fixedly at the holy image and seemed striving to pray striving to awake from a sort of listless stupor. A red-cheeked fat little page with yellow trimmings on his chest was standing behind her and with his hands clasped behind his back stared in sleepy bewilderment at his mistress. I trembled all over and was about to go up to her but stopped short. I felt choked by a torturing presentiment till the very end of the evening service Lisa did not stir. All the people went out a beetle began sweeping out the church but still she did not move from her place. The page went up to her said something to her touched her dress she looked round passed her hand over her face and went away I followed her home at a little distance and then returned to my lodging she is lost I cried when I had got into my room as a man I don't know to this day what my sensations were at that moment I flung myself I remember with clasped hands on the sofa and fixed my eyes on the floor but I don't know in the midst of my woe I was as it were pleased at something I would not admit this for anything in the world if I were not writing only for myself I had been tormented certainly by terrible harassing suspicions and who knows I should perhaps have been greatly disconcerted if they had not been fulfilled such is the heart of man some middle-aged Russian teacher would exclaim at this point in an expressive voice while he raises a fat forefinger adorned with a Cornelian ring but what of we to do with the opinion of a Russian teacher with an expressive voice and a Cornelian on his finger be that as it may my presentiment turned out to be well founded suddenly the news was all over the town that the prince had gone away presumably in consequence of a summons from Petersburg that he had gone away without making any proposal to Kiri Lematvich or his wife and that Liza would have to deplore his treachery till the end of her days the prince's departure was utterly unexpected only the evening before his coachman so my man assured me had not the slightest suspicion of his master's intentions this piece of news threw me into a perfect fever I at once dressed and was on the point of hastening to the ojogins but on thinking the matter over I considered it more seemly to wait till the next day I lost nothing however by remaining at home the same evening there came to see me in all haste a certain pandopipopolo a wandering Greek stranded by some chance in the town of O a scandal monger of the first magnitude who had been more indignant with me than anyone for my duel with the prince he did not even give my man time to announce him he fairly burst into my room warmly pressed my hand begged my pardon a thousand times called me a paragon of magnanimity and courage painted the prince in the darkest colours censured the ojogins who in his opinion had been punished as they deserved made a slighting reference to Liza in passing and hurried off again kissing me on my shoulder among other things I learned from him that the prince en vrai grand seigneur on the eve of his departure in response to a delicate hint from Kiri Lamadvej had answered coldly that he had no intention of deceiving anyone and no idea of marrying had risen, made his bow and that was all next day I set off to the ojogins the short-sighted footman leapt up from his bench on my appearance with the rapidity of lightning I bade him announce me the footman hurried away and returned at once walk in he said you are begged to go in I went into Kiri Lamadvej's study the rest tomorrow March the 30th frost and so I went into Kiri Lamadvej's study I would pay anyone handsomely who could show me now my own face at the moment when that highly respected official hurriedly flinging together his dressing gown approached me with outstretched arms I must have been a perfect picture of modest triumph indulgent sympathy and boundless magnanimity I felt myself something in the style of Scipio Africanus Ojogin was visibly confused and cast down he avoided my eyes and kept fidgeting about I noticed too that he spoke unnaturally loudly and in general expressed himself very vaguely but with warmth he begged my forgiveness vaguely alluded to their departed guest added a few vague generalities about deception and the instability of earthly blessings and suddenly feeling the tears in his eyes hastened to take a pinch of snuff probably in order to deceive me as to the cause of his tearfulness he used the Russian green snuff and it's well known that that article forces even old men to shed tears that make the human eye look dull and senseless for several minutes I behaved of course very cautiously with the old man inquired after the health of his wife and daughter and at once artfully turned the conversation onto the interesting subject of the rotation of crocs I was dressed as usual but the feeling of gentle propriety and soft indulgence which filled me gave me a fresh and festive sensation as though I had on a white waistcoat and a white cravat one thing agitated me the thought of seeing Lisa Ojogin at last proposed of his own accord to take me up to his wife the kind-hearted but foolish woman was at first terribly embarrassed on seeing me but her brain was not capable of retaining the same impression for long and so she was soon at her ease at last I saw Lisa she came into the room I had expected to find in her a shamed and penitent sinner and had assumed beforehand the most affectionate and reassuring expression of face why lie about it I really loved her I was thirsting for the happiness of forgiving her of holding out a hand to her but to my unutterable astonishment in response to my significant bow she laughed coldly observed carelessly oh, is that you? and at once turned away from me it is true that her laugh struck me as forced and in any case did not accord well with her terribly thin face but all the same I had not expected such a reception I looked at her with amazement what a change had taken place in her between the child she had been and the woman before me there was nothing in common she had as it were grown up straightened out all the features of her face especially her lips seemed defined her gaze had grown deeper harder and gloomier I stayed on at the ojogins till dinnertime she got up, went out of the room and came back again answered questions with composure and designedly took no notice of me she wanted I saw to make me feel that I was not worth her anger though I had been within an ace of killing her lover I lost patience at last a malicious illusion broke from my lips she started glanced swiftly at me got up and going to the window pronounced in rather a shaky voice you can say anything you like but let me tell you that I love that man and always shall love him and do not consider that he has done me any injury quite the contrary her voice broke, she stopped tried to control herself but could not burst into tears and went out of the room the old people were much upset I pressed the hands of both side turned my eyes heavenward and withdrew I am too weak, I have too little time left I am not capable of describing in the same detail the new range of torturing reflections firm resolutions and all the other fruits of what is called inward conflict that arose within me after the renewal of my acquaintance with the ojogins I did not doubt that Lisa still loved and would long love the prince but as one reconciled to the inevitable and anxious myself to conciliate I did not even dream of her love I desired only her affection I desired to gain her confidence, her respect which we are assured by persons of experience forms the surest basis for happiness in marriage unluckily I lost sight of one rather important circumstance which was that Lisa had hated me ever since the day of the duel I found this out too late I began as before to be a frequent visitor at the house of the ojogins Kirila Matvej received me with more effusiveness and affability than he had ever done I have even ground for believing that he would at that time have cheerfully given me his daughter though I was certainly not a match to be coveted public opinion was very severe upon him and Lisa while on the other hand it extolled me to the skies Lisa's attitude to me was unchanged she was for the most part silent obeyed when they begged her to eat showed no outward signs of sorrow but for all that was wasting away like a candle I must do Kirila Matvej the justice to say that he spared her in every way old madame ojogin only ruffled up her feathers like a hen as she looked at her poor nestling there was only one person Lisa did not shun though she did not talk much even to him and that was Bismiankov the old people were rather short not to say rude in their behaviour to him they could not forgive him for having been second in the duel but he went on going to see them as though he did not notice their unamiability with me he was very chilly and strange to say I felt as it were afraid of him this state of things went on for a fortnight at last after a sleepless night I resolved to have it out with Lisa to open my heart to her to tell her that in spite of the past in spite of all possible gossip and scandal I should consider myself only too happy if she would give me her hand and restore me her confidence I really did seriously imagine that I was showing what they call in the school reading books an unparalleled example of magnanimity and that from sheer amazement alone she would consent in any case I resolved to have an explanation and to escape at last from suspense behind the ozhogine's house was a rather large garden which ended in a little grove of lime trees neglected and overgrown in the middle of this thicket stood an old summer house in the Chinese style a wooden paling separated the garden from a blind alley Lisa would sometimes walk for hours together alone in this garden Kirila Matveich was aware of this and forbade her being disturbed or followed let her grief wear itself out he said when she could not be found indoors they only had to ring a bell on the steps at dinnertime and she made her appearance at once with the same stubborn silence on her lips and in her eyes and some little leaf crushed up in her hand so noticing one day that she was not in the house I made a show of going away took leave of Kirila Matveich put on my hat and went out from the hall into the courtyard and from the courtyard into the street but promptly darted in at the gate again with extraordinary rapidity and hurried past the kitchen into the garden luckily no one noticed me without losing time in deliberation I went with rapid steps into the grove in a little path before me was standing Lisa my heart beat violently I stood still, drew a deep sigh and was just on the point of going up to her when suddenly she lifted her hand without turning round and began listening from behind the trees in the direction of the blind alley came a distinct sound of two knocks as though someone were tapping at the pailing Lisa clapped her hands together there was heard the faint creak of the gate and out of the thicket stepped Bismionkov I hastily hid behind a tree Lisa turned towards him without speaking without speaking he drew her arm in his and the two walked slowly along the path together I looked after them in amazement they stopped, looked round disappeared behind the bushes reappeared again and finally went into the summer house this summer house was a diminutive round edifice with a door and one little window in the middle stood an old one-legged table overgrown with fine green moss two discoloured deal benches stood along the sides some distance from the damp and darkened walls here on exceptionally hot days in bygone times perhaps once a year or so they had drunk tea the door did not quite shut the window frame had long ago come out of the window and hung disconsolently only attached at one corner like a bird's broken wing I stole up to the summer house and peeped cautiously through the chink in the window Lisa was sitting on one of the benches with her head drooping her right hand lay on her knees the left Bismionkov was holding in both his hands he was looking sympathetically at her how do you feel today? he asked her in a low voice just the same she answered not better, not worse the emptiness, the fearful emptiness she added raising her eyes dejectedly Bismionkov made her no answer what do you think she went on? will he write to me once more? I don't think so, Izabeta Kirilovna she was silent and after all why should he write? he told me everything in his first letter I could not be his wife but I have been happy not for long, I have been happy Bismionkov looked down ah, she went on quickly if you knew how I loathe that chulka touring I always fancy I see on that man's hands his blood I shuddered behind my chink though indeed she added dreamily who knows perhaps if it had not been for that duel ah, when I saw him wounded I felt at once that I was altogether his chulka touring loves you observed Bismionkov what is that to me? I don't want anyone's love she stopped and added slowly except yours yes, my friend your love is necessary to me except for you I should be lost you have helped me to bear terrible moments she broke off Bismionkov began with fatherly tenderness stroking her hands there's no help for it what is one to do? what is one to do, Izabeta Kirilovna he repeated several times and now indeed she went on in a lifeless voice I should die, I think, if it were not for you it's you alone that keep me up besides you remind me of him you knew all about it, you see do you remember how fine he was that day but forgive me, it must be hard for you go on, go on, nonsense bless you Bismionkov interrupted her she pressed his hand you are very good, Bismionkov she went on you are as good as an angel what can I do? I feel I shall love him to the grave I have forgiven him I am grateful to him God give him happiness may God give him a wife after his own heart and her eyes filled with tears if only he does not forget me if only he will sometimes think of his Lisa let us go she added after a brief silence Bismionkov raised her hand to his lips I know she began again hotly everyone is blaming me now everyone is throwing stones at me let them I wouldn't anyway change my misery for their happiness no, no he did not love me for long but he loved me he never deceived me he never told me I should be his wife I never dreamed of it myself it was only poor papa hoped for it and even now I am not altogether unhappy the memory remains to me and however fearful the results I am stifling here it was here I saw him the last time let's go into the air they got up I had only just time to skip on one side and hide behind a thick lime tree they came out of the summer house and as far as I could judge by the sound of their steps went away into the thicket I don't know how long I went on standing there without stirring from my place lunged in a sort of senseless amazement when suddenly I heard steps again I started and peeped cautiously out from my hiding place Bismionkov and Liza were coming back along the same path both were greatly agitated especially Bismionkov I fancied he was crying Liza stopped, looked at him and distinctly uttered the following words I do consent Bismionkov I would never have agreed if you were only trying to save me to rescue me from a terrible position but you love me you know everything and you love me I shall never find a trustier, truer friend I will be your wife Bismionkov kissed her hand she smiled at him mournfully and moved away towards the house Bismionkov rushed into the thicket and I went my way seeing that Bismionkov had apparently said to Liza precisely what I had intended to say to her and she had given him precisely the reply I was longing to hear from her there was no need for me to trouble myself further within a fortnight she was married to him the older joggings were thankful to get any husband for her now tell me am I not a superfluous man didn't I play throughout the whole story the part of a superfluous person the prince's part of that it's needless to speak Bismionkov's part too is comprehensible but I, with what object was I mixed up in it a senseless fifth wheel to the cart ah it's bitter, bitter for me but there as the barge haulers say one more pull and one more yet one day more and one more yet and there will be no more bitter nor sweet for me March the 31st I'm in a bad way I'm writing these lines in bed since yesterday evening there has been a sudden change in the weather today is hot almost a summer day everything is thawing, breaking up, flowing away the air is full of the smell of the opened earth a strong heavy stifling smell steam is rising on all sides the sun seems beating seems smiting everything to pieces I am very ill I feel that I am breaking up I meant to write my diary and instead of that what have I done I've related one incident of my life I gossiped on slumbering reminiscences were awakened and drew me away I've written without haste in detail as though I had years before me and here and now there's no time to go on death, death is coming I can hear the menacing crescendo the time has come the time is come and indeed what does it matter isn't it all the same whatever I write inside of death the last earthly cares vanish I feel I have grown calm I'm becoming simpler, clearer too late I've gained sense it's a strange thing I have grown calm certainly and at the same time I'm full of dread yes I'm full of dread half hanging over the silent yawning abyss I shudder, turn away with greedy intentness gaze at everything about me every object is doubly precious to me I cannot gaze enough at my poor cheerless room saying farewell to each spot on my walls take your fill for the last time my eyes life is retreating slowly and smoothly she is flying away from me as the shore flies from the eyes of the one at sea the old yellow face of my nurse tied up in a dark kerchief the hissing samovar on the table the pot of geranium in the window and you, my poor dark tresor the pen I write these lines with my own hand I see you now here you are, here is it possible? can it be today? I shall never see you again it's hard for a live creature to part with life why do you fawn on me poor dog? why do you come putting your forp paws on the bed with your stump of a tail wagging so violently and your kind mournful eye is fixed on me all the while are you sorry for me or do you feel already that your master will soon be gone? if only I could keep my thoughts too resting on all the objects in my room I know these reminiscences are dismal and of no importance but I have no other the emptiness the fearful emptiness as Lisa said oh my god, my god here I am dying a heart capable of loving and ready to love will soon cease to beat and can it be it will be still forever without having once known happiness without having once expanded under the sweet burden of bliss alas it's impossible, impossible I know if only now at least before death for death after all is a sacred thing after all it elevates any being if any kind, sad, friendly voice would sing over me a farewell song of my own sorrow I could perhaps be resigned to it but to die stupidly I believe I'm beginning to rave farewell life farewell my garden and you my lime trees when the summer comes do not forget to be clothed with flowers from head to foot and may it be sweet for people to lie in your fragrant shade on the fresh grass among the whispering chatter of your leaves lightly stirred by the wind farewell farewell farewell everything and forever farewell Lisa I wrote those two words and almost laughed aloud this exclamation strikes me as taken out of a book it's as though I were writing a sentimental novel and ending up a despairing letter tomorrow is the first of April can I be going to die tomorrow? that would really be too unseemly it's just right for me though how the doctor did chatter today April the first it is over life is over I shall certainly die today it's hot outside almost suffocating or is it that my lungs are already refusing to breathe my little comedy is played out the curtain is falling thinking into nothing I cease to be superfluous oh how brilliant that sun is those mighty beams breathe of eternity farewell Terentievna this morning as she sat at the window she was crying perhaps over me and perhaps because she too will soon have to die I have made a promise not to kill Trezor it's hard for me to write I will put down the pen it's high time death is already approaching with ever increasing rumble like a carriage at night over the pavement it is here it is flitting about me like the light breath which made the prophet's hair stand up on end I am dying live you who are living and about the grave may youthful life rejoice and nature heedless glow with eternal beauty note by the editor under this last line was a head in profile with a big streak of hair and mustaches with eyes on fast and eyelashes like rays and under the head someone had written the following words this manuscript was read and the contents of it not approved by Peter Zudochieshin my my my my dear sir Peter Zudochieshin dear sir but as the handwriting of these lines was not in the least like the handwriting in which the other part of the manuscript was written the editor considers that he has justified in concluding that the above lines were added subsequently by another person especially since it has come to his the editor's knowledge that Mr. Chulka Turin actually did die on the night between the 1st and 2nd of April in the year 18 at his native place sheeps springs end of part 5 recording by Martin Geithen in Hazelmere Surrey end of the diary of a superfluous man by Ivan Turgenev translated by Constance Garnet