THE RENDEZVOUS By Ivan Turgenev Translated by Herman Bernstein. Copyright, 1907, by P. P. Collier & Son. I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, near the middle of September. It had been drizzling ever since morning; occasionally the sun shonewarmly;--the weather was changeable. Now the sky was overcast withwatery white clouds, now it suddenly cleared up for an instant, and thenthe bright, soft azure, like a beautiful eye, appeared from beyond thedispersed clouds. I was sitting looking about me and listening. Theleaves were slightly rustling over my head; and by their very rustle onecould tell what season of the year it was. It was not the gay, laughingpalpitation of spring; not a soft whispering, nor the lingering chatterof summer, nor the timid and cold lisping of late autumn, but a barelyaudible, drowsy prattle. A faint breeze was whisking over the tree-tops. The interior of the grove, moist from the rain, was forever changing, as the sun shone or hid beyond the clouds; now the grove was allilluminated as if everything in it had burst into a smile; the trunks ofthe birch trees suddenly assumed the soft reflection of white silk;the small leaves which lay scattered on the ground all at once becamevariegated and flashed up like red gold; and the pretty stalks of thetall, branchy ferns, already tinted in their autumn hue, resembling thecolor of overripe grapes, appeared here and there tangling and crossingone another. Now again everything suddenly turned blue; the brightcolors died out instantaneously, the birch trees stood all white, lustreless, like snow which had not yet been touched by the coldlyplaying rays of the winter sun--and stealthily, slyly, a drizzling rainbegan to sprinkle and whisper over the forest. The leaves on the bircheswere almost all green yet, though they had turned somewhat pale; onlyhere and there stood a solitary young little birch, all red or allgolden, and one should have seen how brightly these birches flushed inthe sun when its rays suddenly appeared gliding and flashing through thedense net of the thin branches which had just been washed around by thesparkling rain. Not a single bird was heard; all had found shelter, andwere silent; only rarely the mocking voice of the bluebird sang out likea little steel bell. Before stopping in this birch forest I passedwith my dog through a poplar grove. I confess I am not very fond of thepoplar tree with its pale lilac-colored trunk and its grayish-green, metallic leaves, which it lifts high and spreads in the air like atrembling fan--I do not like the constant shaking of its round, untidyleaves, which are so awkwardly attached to long stems. The poplar ispretty only on certain summer evenings when, rising high amid the lowshrubbery, it stands against the red rays of the setting sun, shiningand trembling, bathed from root to top in uniform yellowish purple--orwhen, on a clear windy day, it rocks noisily, lisping against the bluesky, and each leaf seems as if eager to tear itself away, to fly andhurry off into the distance. But in general I do not like this tree, and, therefore, not stopping to rest in the poplar grove, I made myway to the birch forest, and seated myself under a tree whose branchesstarted near the ground, and thus could protect me from the rain. Havingadmired the surrounding view, I fell asleep--I slept that tranquil, sweet sleep which is familiar to hunters only. I can not say how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes the entireinterior of the forest was filled with sunshine, and everywhere thebright blue sky was flashing through the cheerfully droning leaves; theclouds disappeared, driven asunder by the wind which had begun to play;the weather was clear now, and one felt in the air that peculiar, dryfreshness which, filling the heart with a certain vigorous sensation, almost always predicts a quiet, clear night after a rainy day. I wasabout to rise and try my luck at hunting again, when my eyes suddenlyfell on a motionless human figure. I gassed at it fixedly; it was ayoung peasant girl. She was sitting some twenty feet away from me, herhead bowed pensively and her hands dropped on her knees; in one hand, which was half open, lay a heavy bunch of field flowers, and every timeshe breathed the flowers were softly gliding over her checkered skirt. A clear white shirt, buttoned at the neck and the wrists, fell in short, soft folds about her waist; large yellow beads were hanging down fromher neck on her bosom in two rows. She was not at all bad-looking. Herheavy fair hair, of a beautiful ash color, parted in two neatly combedhalf-circles from under a narrow, dark-red head-band, which was pulleddown almost to her ivory-white forehead; the rest of her face wasslightly tanned with the golden sunburn peculiar to a tender skin. Icould not see her eyes--she did not lift them; but I saw her thin, higheyebrows, her long lashes; these were moist, and on her cheek gleameda dried-up teardrop, which had stopped near her somewhat pale lips. Herentire small head was very charming; even her somewhat thick and roundnose did not spoil it. I liked especially the expression of her face;it was so simple and gentle, so sad and so full of childish perplexitybefore her own sadness. She was apparently waiting for some one. Something cracked faintly in the forest. Immediately she raised her headand looked around; her eyes flashed quickly before me in the transparentshade--they were large, bright, and shy like a deer's. She listened fora few seconds, not moving her wide-open eyes from the spot whence thefaint sound had come; she heaved a sigh, turned her head slowly, bentdown still lower and began to examine the flowers. Her eyelids turnedred, her lips quivered bitterly and a new teardrop rolled down fromunder her heavy eyelashes, stopping and sparkling on her cheek. Thusquite a long while passed; the poor girl did hot stir--only occasionallyshe moved her hands and listened--listened all the time. Somethingcracked once more in the forest--she started. This time the noise didnot stop, it was becoming more distinct, it was nearing--at last firmfootsteps were heard. She straightened herself, and it seemed as ifshe lost her courage, for her eyes began to quiver. The figure of a manappeared through the jungle. She looked fixedly, suddenly flushed, and, smiling joyously and happily, seemed about to rise, but she immediatelycast down her head again, turned pale, confused--only then she liftedher quivering, almost prayerful, eyes to the man as he paused besideher. I looked at him from my hiding-place with curiosity. I confess he didnot produce a pleasant impression upon me. He was, by all appearances, a spoiled valet of some rich young man. His clothes betokened a claim totaste and smart carelessness. He wore a short top-coat of bronze color, which evidently belonged to his master, and which was buttoned up tothe very top; he had on a pink necktie with lilac-colored edges; and hisblack velvet cap, trimmed with gold stripes, was pulled over his veryeyebrows. The round collar of his white shirt propped his ears up andcut his cheeks mercilessly, and the starched cuffs covered his hands upto his red, crooked fingers, which were ornamented with silver and goldrings, set with forget-me-nots of turquoise. His red, fresh, impudentface belonged to those countenances which, as far as I have observed, are almost always repulsive to men, but, unfortunately, are oftenadmired by women. Apparently trying to give an expression of contemptand of weariness to his rough features, he was forever closing hissmall, milky-gray eyes, knitting his brows, lowering the corners of hislips, yawning forcedly, and, with careless, although not too clever, ease, now adjusting his reddish, smartly twisted temple-curls, nowfingering the yellow hair which bristled upon his thick upper lip--in aword, he was making an insufferable display of himself. He started to dothis as soon as he noticed the young peasant girl who was awaiting him. He advanced to her slowly, with large strides, then stood for a while, twitched his shoulders, thrust both hands into the pockets of his coat, and, casting a quick and indifferent glance at the poor girl, sank downon the ground. "Well?" he began, continuing to look aside, shaking his foot andyawning. "Have you waited long?" The girl could not answer him at once. "Long, Victor Alexandrich, " she said at last, in a scarcely audiblevoice. "Ah!" He removed his cap, majestically passed his hand over his thick, curly hair whose roots started almost at his eyebrows, and, lookingaround with dignity, covered his precious head again cautiously. "And Ialmost forgot all about it. Besides, you see, it's raining. " He yawnedagain. "I have a lot of work to do; you can't look after everything, andhe is yet scolding. We are leaving to-morrow--" "To-morrow?" uttered the girl, and fixed a frightened look upon him. "To-morrow--Come, come, come, please, " he replied quickly, vexed, noticing that she quivered, and bowed her head in silence. "Please, Akulina, don't cry. You know I can't bear it" (and he twitched his flatnose). "If you don't stop, I'll leave you right away. What nonsense--towhimper!" "Well, I shan't, I shan't, " said Akulina hastily, swallowing the tearswith an effort. "So you're going away to-morrow?" she added, aftera brief silence. "When will it please God to have me meet you again, Victor Alexandrich?" "We'll meet, we'll meet again. If it isn't next year, it'll be later. Mymaster, it seems, wants to enter the service in St. Petersburg, " he wenton, pronouncing the words carelessly and somewhat indistinctly. "And itmay be that we'll go abroad. " "You will forget me, Victor Alexandrich, " said Akulina sadly. "No--why should I? I'll not forget you, only you had rallier besensible; don't make a fool of yourself; obey your father--And I'll notforget you--Oh, no; oh, no. " And he stretched himself calmly and yawnedagain. "Do not forget me, Victor Alexandrich, " she resumed in a beseechingvoice. "I have loved you so much, it seems--all, it seems, for you--Youtell me to obey father, Victor Alexandrich--How am I to obey myfather--?" "How's that?" He pronounced these words as if from the stomach, lying onhis back and holding his hands under his head. "Why, Victor Alexandrich--you know it yourself--" She fell silent. Victor fingered his steel watch-chain. "Akulina, you are not a foolish girl, " he said at last, "therefore don'ttalk nonsense. It's for your own good, do you understand me? Of course, you are not foolish, you're not altogether a peasant, so to say, andyour mother wasn't always a peasant either. Still, you are withouteducation--therefore you must obey when you are told to. " "But it's terrible, Victor Alexandrich. " "Oh, what nonsense, my dear--what is she afraid of! What is that youhave there, " he added, moving close to her, "flowers?" "Flowers, " replied Akulina sadly. "I have picked some field tansies, "she went on, with some animation. "They're good for the calves, And hereI have some marigolds--for scrofula. Here, look, what a pretty flower!I haven't seen such a pretty flower in all my life. Here areforget-me-nots, and--and these I have picked for you, " she added, takingfrom under the tansies a small bunch of cornflowers, tied around with athin blade of grass; "do you want them?" Victor held out his hand lazily, took the flowers, smelt themcarelessly, and began to turn them around in his fingers, looking upwith thoughtful importance. Akulina gazed at him. There was so muchtender devotion, reverent obedience, and love in her pensive eyes. Sheat once feared him, and yet she dared not cry, and inwardly she bade himfarewell, and admired him for the last time; and he lay there, stretchedout like a sultan, and endured her admiration with magnanimous patienceand condescension. I confess I was filled with indignation as I lookedat his red face, which betrayed satisfied selfishness through hisfeigned contempt and indifference. Akulina was so beautiful at thismoment. All her soul opened before him trustingly and passionately;--itreached out to him, caressed him, and he--He dropped the cornflowers onthe grass, took out from the side-pocket of his coat a round glass in abronze frame and began to force it into his eye; but no matter how hardhe tried to hold it with his knitted brow, his raised cheek, and evenwith his nose, the glass dropped out and fell into his hands. "What's this?" asked Akulina at last, with surprise. "A lorgnette, " he replied importantly. "What is it for?" "To see better. " "Let me see it. " Victor frowned, but gave her the glass. "Look out; don't break it. " "Don't be afraid, I'll not break it. " She lifted it timidly to her eye. "I can't see anything, " she said naively. "Shut your eye, " he retorted in the tone of a dissatisfied teacher. Sheclosed the eye before which she held the glass. "Not that eye, not that one, you fool! The other one!" exclaimed Victor, and, not allowing her to correct her mistake, he took the lorgnette awayfrom her. Akulina blushed, laughed slightly, and turned away. "It seems it's not for us. " "Of course not!" The poor girl maintained silence, and heaved a deep sigh. "Oh, Victor Alexandrich, how will I get along without you?" she saidsuddenly. Victor wiped the lorgnette and put it back into his pocket. "Yes, yes, " he said at last. "At first it will really be hard for you. "He tapped her on the shoulder condescendingly; she quietly took his handfrom her shoulder and kissed it. "Well, yes, yes, you are indeed a goodgirl, " he went on, with a self-satisfied smile; "but it can't be helped!Consider it yourself! My master and I can't stay here, can we? Winter isnear, and to pass the winter in the country is simply nasty--you knowit yourself. It's a different thing in St. Petersburg! There are suchwonders over there that you could not imagine even in your dreams, yousilly--What houses, what streets, and society, education--it's somethingwonderful!--" Akulina listened to him with close attention, slightlyopening her lips like a child. "However, " he added, wriggling on theground, "why do I say all this to you? You can't understand it anyway!" "Why not, Victor Alexandrich? I understood, I understood everything. " "Just think of her!" Akulina cast down her eyes. "You did not speak to me like this before, Victor Alexandrich, " shesaid, without lifting her eyes. "Before?--Before! Just think of her!--Before!" he remarked, indignantly. Both grew silent. "However, it's time for me to go, " said Victor, and leaned on his elbow, about to rise. "Wait a little, " said Akulina in an imploring voice. "What for? I have already said to you, Good-by!" "Wait, " repeated Akulina. Victor again stretched himself on the ground and began to whistle. Akulina kept looking at him steadfastly. I could see that she wasgrowing agitated by degrees--her lips twitched, her pale cheeks werereddening. "Victor Alexandrich, " she said at last in a broken voice, "it's a sinfor you, it's a sin, Victor Alexandrich, by God!" "What's a sin?" he asked, knitting his brows. He raised his head andturned to her. "It's a sin, Victor Alexandrich. If you would only say a good word to mebefore leaving--if you would only say one word to me, miserable littleorphan that I am:--" "But what shall I say to you?" "I don't know. You know better than I do, Victor Alexandrich. Here youare going away--if you would only say one word--What have I done todeserve this?" "How strange you are! What can I say?" "If only one word--" "There she's firing away one and the same thing, " he muttered withvexation, and got up. "Don't be angry, Victor Alexandrich, " she added hastily, unable torepress her tears. "I'm not angry--only you are foolish--What do you want? I can't marryyou! I can't, can I? Well, then, what do you want? What?" He stared ather, as if awaiting an answer, and opened his fingers wide. "I want nothing--nothing, " she replied, stammering, not daring tooutstretch her trembling hands to him, "but simply so, at least oneword, at parting--" And the tears began to stream from her eyes. "Well, there you are, she's started crying, " said Victor indifferently, pulling the cap over his eyes. "I don't want anything, " she went on, sobbing and covering her face withher hands; "but how will I feel now at home, how will I feel? And whatwill become of me, what will become of me, wretched one that I am?They'll marry the poor little orphan off to a man she does not like. Mypoor little head!" "Keep on singing, keep on singing, " muttered Victor in a low voice, stirring restlessly. "If you only said one word, just one: 'Akulina--I--'" Sudden heartrending sobs interrupted her. She fell with her face uponthe grass and cried bitterly, bitterly--All her body shook convulsively, the back of her neck seemed to rise--The long-suppressed sorrow at lastburst forth in a stream of tears. Victor stood a while near her, then heshrugged his shoulders, turned around and walked off with large steps. A few moments went by. She grew silent, lifted her head, looked aroundand clasped her hands; she was about to run after him, but her feetfailed her--she fell down on her knees. I could not endure it any longerand rushed over to her; but before she had time to look at me, shesuddenly seemed to have regained her strength--and with a faint cry sherose and disappeared behind the trees, leaving the scattered flowers onthe ground. I stood a while, picked up the bunch of cornflowers, and walked out ofthe grove to the field, The sun was low in the pale, clear sky; itsrays seemed to have faded and turned cold; they did not shine now, theyspread in an even, almost watery, light. There was only a half-hour leftuntil evening, and twilight was setting in. A violent wind was blowingfast toward me across the yellow, dried-up stubble-field; the smallwithered leaves were carried quickly past me across the road; the sideof the grove which stood like a wall by the field trembled and flashedclearly, but not brightly; everywhere on the reddish grass, on theblades, and the straw, innumerable autumn cobwebs flashed and trembled. I stopped. I began to feel sad; it seemed a dismal fear of approachingwinter was stealing through the gay, though fresh, smile of fadingnature. High above me, a cautious raven flew by, heavily and sharplycutting the air with his wings; then he turned his head, looked at mesidewise, and, croaking abruptly, disappeared beyond the forest; a largeflock of pigeons rushed past me from a barn, and, suddenly whirlingabout in a column, they came down and stationed themselves bustlinglyupon the field--a sign of spring autumn! Somebody rode by beyond thebare hillock, making much noise with an empty wagon. I returned home, but the image of poor Akulina did not leave my mind fora long time, and the cornflowers, long withered, are in my possession tothis day.