CHAPTER I
'Well, Piotr, not in sight yet?' was the question asked on May the20th, 1859, by a gentleman of a little over forty, in a dusty coat andchecked trousers, who came out without his hat on to the low steps ofthe posting station at S----. He was addressing his servant, a chubbyyoung fellow, with whitish down on his chin, and little, lack-lustreeyes.
The servant, in whom everything--the turquoise ring in his ear, thestreaky hair plastered with grease, and the civility of hismovements--indicated a man of the new, improved generation, glancedwith an air of indulgence along the road, and made answer:
'No, sir; not in sight.'
'Not in sight?' repeated his master.
'No, sir,' responded the man a second time.
His master sighed, and sat down on a little bench. We will introducehim to the reader while he sits, his feet tucked under him, gazingthoughtfully round.
His name was Nikolai Petrovitch Kirsanov. He had, twelve miles from theposting station, a fine property of two hundred souls, or, as heexpressed it--since he had arranged the division of his land with thepeasants, and started 'a farm'--of nearly five thousand acres. Hisfather, a general in the army, who served in 1812, a coarse,half-educated, but not ill-natured man, a typical Russian, had been inharness all his life, first in command of a brigade, and then of adivision, and lived constantly in the provinces, where, by virtue ofhis rank, he played a fairly important part. Nikolai Petrovitch wasborn in the south of Russia like his elder brother, Pavel, of whom morehereafter. He was educated at home till he was fourteen, surrounded bycheap tutors, free-and-easy but toadying adjutants, and all the usualregimental and staff set. His mother, one of the Kolyazin family, as agirl called Agathe, but as a general's wife Agathokleya KuzminishnaKirsanov, was one of those military ladies who take their full share ofthe duties and dignities of office. She wore gorgeous caps and rustlingsilk dresses; in church she was the first to advance to the cross; shetalked a great deal in a loud voice, let her children kiss her hand inthe morning, and gave them her blessing at night--in fact, she goteverything out of life she could. Nikolai Petrovitch, as a general'sson--though so far from being distinguished by courage that he evendeserved to be called 'a funk'--was intended, like his brother Pavel,to enter the army; but he broke his leg on the very day when the newsof his commission came, and, after being two months in bed, retained aslight limp to the end of his days. His father gave him up as a badjob, and let him go into the civil service. He took him to Petersburgdirectly he was eighteen, and placed him in the university. His brotherhappened about the same time to be made an officer in the Guards. Theyoung men started living together in one set of rooms, under the remotesupervision of a cousin on their mother's side, Ilya Kolyazin, anofficial of high rank. Their father returned to his division and hiswife, and only rarely sent his sons large sheets of grey paper,scrawled over in a bold clerkly hand. At the bottom of these sheetsstood in letters, enclosed carefully in scroll-work, the words, 'PiotrKirsanov, General-Major.' In 1835 Nikolai Petrovitch left theuniversity, a graduate, and in the same year General Kirsanov was puton to the retired list after an unsuccessful review, and came toPetersburg with his wife to live. He was about to take a house in theTavrichesky Gardens, and had joined the English club, but he diedsuddenly of an apoplectic fit. Agathokleya Kuzminishna soon followedhim; she could not accustom herself to a dull life in the capital; shewas consumed by the ennui of existence away from the regiment.Meanwhile Nikolai Petrovitch had already, in his parents' lifetime andto their no slight chagrin, had time to fall in love with the daughterof his landlord, a petty official, Prepolovensky. She was a pretty and,as it is called, 'advanced' girl; she used to read the serious articlesin the 'Science' column of the journals. He married her directly theterm of mourning was over; and leaving the civil service in which hisfather had by favour procured him a post, was perfectly blissful withhis Masha, first in a country villa near the Lyesny Institute,afterwards in town in a pretty little flat with a clean staircase and adraughty drawing-room, and then in the country, where he settledfinally, and where in a short time a son, Arkady, was born to him. Theyoung couple lived very happily and peacefully; they were scarcely everapart; they read together, sang and played duets together on the piano;she tended her flowers and looked after the poultry-yard; he sometimeswent hunting, and busied himself with the estate, while Arkady grew andgrew in the same happy and peaceful way. Ten years passed like a dream.In 1847 Kirsanov's wife died. He almost succumbed to this blow; in afew weeks his hair was grey; he was getting ready to go abroad, ifpossible to distract his mind ... but then came the year 1848. Hereturned unwillingly to the country, and, after a rather prolongedperiod of inactivity, began to take an interest in improvements in themanagement of his land. In 1855 he brought his son to the university;he spent three winters with him in Petersburg, hardly going outanywhere, and trying to make acquaintance with Arkady's youngcompanions. The last winter he had not been able to go, and here wehave him in the May of 1859, already quite grey, stoutish, and ratherbent, waiting for his son, who had just taken his degree, as once hehad taken it himself.
The servant, from a feeling of propriety, and perhaps, too, not anxiousto remain under the master's eye, had gone to the gate, and was smokinga pipe. Nikolai Petrovitch bent his head, and began staring at thecrumbling steps; a big mottled fowl walked sedately towards him,treading firmly with its great yellow legs; a muddy cat gave him anunfriendly look, twisting herself coyly round the railing. The sun wasscorching; from the half-dark passage of the posting station came anodour of hot rye-bread. Nikolai Petrovitch fell to dreaming. 'My son... a graduate ... Arkasha ...' were the ideas that continually cameround again and again in his head; he tried to think of something else,and again the same thoughts returned. He remembered his dead wife....'She did not live to see it!' he murmured sadly. A plump, dark-bluepigeon flew into the road, and hurriedly went to drink in a puddle nearthe well. Nikolai Petrovitch began looking at it, but his ear hadalready caught the sound of approaching wheels.
'It sounds as if they're coming sir,' announced the servant, popping infrom the gateway.
Nikolai Petrovitch jumped up, and bent his eyes on the road. A carriageappeared with three posting-horses harnessed abreast; in the carriagehe caught a glimpse of the blue band of a student's cap, the familiaroutline of a dear face.
'Arkasha! Arkasha!' cried Kirsanov, and he ran waving his hands.... Afew instants later, his lips were pressed to the beardless, dusty,sunburnt-cheek of the youthful graduate.