What do you think?
Rate this book


280 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1943
“But I mean, you couldn’t have loved me all your life!”
“But I could. However much time passed, I kept on living for the one thing. I knew the former you was long gone, that for you it was as if there had never even been anything, but then… It’s too late for reproaches now, but you know, it’s true, you did abandon me ever so heartlessly – how many times did I want to lay hands upon myself out of hurt alone, not even to mention everything else. There was a time, after all, Nikolai Alexeyevich, when I called you Nikolenka, and you called me – do you remember what? And you were good enough to keep on reciting me poetry about various ‘dark avenues’,” she added with an unfriendly smile.
And I sat down on a bollard beside some merchant’s house, impregnable behind its locks and gates, and started thinking about what she was like in those distant times of ours: simply dressed dark hair, a clear gaze, the light tan of a youthful face, a light summer dress, beneath which were the chastity, strength and freedom of a young body… That was the start of our love, a time of happiness as yet unclouded by anything, of intimacy, trustfulness, enraptured tenderness, joy…
Yes, from year to year, from day to day, you secretly await only one thing – a happy amorous encounter – you live, in essence, only for the hope of that encounter – and all in vain…
She remained silent. I took her hands and, going quite cold, kissed the right one.
“Natalie…”
“Yes, yes, I love you,” she said, hurriedly and expressionlessly, and set off back towards the house. I went after her as though sleepwalking.
