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  ‘What’s that?’ Akulina eventually asked him in astonishment.

  ‘A lorgnette.’

  ‘What’s it for?’

  ‘To see better.’

  ‘Can I have a look?’

  Viktor scowled, but handed her the glass.

  ‘Mind you don’t break it!’

  ‘I shan’t break it, don’t worry.’ Timidly she raised the glass to her eye. ‘I can’t see a thing,’ she said innocently.

  ‘Go on, screw up your eye, then,’ he retorted in the tones of a disgruntled instructor. She screwed up the eye that was looking through the glass.

  ‘Not that one, that’s the wrong one, you idiot! The other one!’ exclaimed Viktor, and without letting her put right her mistake, he took back the lorgnette.

  Akulina blushed, laughed faintly, and turned away.

  ‘No good for our sort, I suppose,’ she said.

  ‘I should think not!’

  The poor girl said nothing, but gave a deep sigh.

  ‘Oh, Viktor Alexandrich, what are we going to do without you!’ she suddenly exclaimed.

  Viktor wiped the lorgnette on his coat-tail and put it back in his pocket.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said after a pause. ‘It’ll be hard for you to begin with, of course.’ He patted her condescendingly on the shoulder. She gently removed his hand from her shoulder and kissed it timidly. ‘Well, yes, indeed, you really are a nice girl,’ he went on with a complacent smile, ‘but what’s to be done! You can see for yourself—the master and I can’t stay here, can we? Soon it’ll be winter, and winter in the country, you know yourself—it’s just disgusting. Petersburg is nothing like that! They have such wonders there—a silly girl like you could never imagine them in your dreams. Such houses, such streets, and the cultured society they have—unbelievable!’

  Akulina was listening to every word, completely engrossed, with her mouth slightly open, like a child.

  ‘Anyway,’ he added, rolling over on the grass, ‘why am I telling you all this? You can’t understand a word of it.’

  ‘Why not, Viktor Alexandrich? I can understand, I understood everything.’

  ‘Oh yes, just look at you!’

  Akulina hung her head.

  ‘You never used to talk to me like that before, Viktor Alexandrich,’ she said, without looking up.

  ‘Before? … Before! Get along with you! … Before!’ he said, putting on an indignant air.

  Both sat silent for a little.

  ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go,’ said Viktor, already raising himself on one elbow.

  ‘Wait a bit longer!’ Akulina implored him.

  ‘What’s the point? … I’ve already said goodbye to you.’

  ‘Wait a bit!’ Akulina said again.

  Viktor lay back down and started whistling. Akulina never took her eyes off him. I could see that she was close to breaking down—her lips twitched, her pale cheeks became a little flushed …

  ‘Viktor Alexandrich,’ she eventually said in a broken voice, ‘it’s not right of you, it’s not right, Viktor Alexandrich, really it isn’t!’

  ‘What’s not right?’ he demanded with a scowl, raising his head to look at her.

  ‘It isn’t right, Viktor Alexandrich. You might at least say something kind to me now we’re parting, just a word, to a poor lonely little thing like me …’

  ‘What am I supposed to say to you, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. You know better than me, Viktor Alexandrich. Here you are, going away, and not a word for me … What have I done to deserve that?’

  ‘What an odd girl you are! What can I do about it?’

  ‘One little word from you—’

  ‘Just listen to you, going on and on about the same thing,’ he said irritably, and stood up.

  ‘Don’t be cross with me, Viktor Alexandrich,’ she said hastily, barely holding back her tears.

  ‘I’m not cross, but you’re being stupid … What do you want? You know I can’t marry you! I can’t, can I? So what is it you want? What is it?’

  He thrust his face forward as if waiting for an answer, and spread out his hands.

  ‘I don’t … I don’t want anything,’ she stammered, hardly daring to hold out her trembling hands to him. ‘But just a little word from you, to say goodbye …’

  And her tears poured down her face.

  ‘Well, off you go, crying again,’ said Viktor coolly, putting a hand behind his head to tilt his cap over his brow.

  ‘I don’t want anything,’ she repeated between sobs, hiding her face in her hands. ‘But what’s it going to be like for me with my family now, how can I stand it? What’s going to happen to me, what’ll become of me, poor thing? They’ll marry me off to someone hateful, poor little me … Oh, poor me!’

  ‘Sing away, sing away,’ muttered Viktor under his breath, shuffling his feet where he stood.

  ‘Couldn’t he have said just one word to me, just one? … Just to say, Akulina, I …’

  She couldn’t go on. All at once she broke down in heart-rending sobs, fell face down on the grass, and wept bitterly. Her whole body was racked, her neck jerked backwards … The grief she had held back for so long now flooded out. Viktor stood over her a while, waited, then shrugged his shoulders, turned on his heel and strode briskly away.

  A few moments passed … She quietened down, raised her head, jumped to her feet, looked about her and flung up her arms. She tried to run after him, but her legs gave way and she fell to her knees … I couldn’t bear to watch, and hurried towards her. But the instant she became aware of me—who knows where she found the strength—she uttered a faint shriek, jumped to her feet and vanished through the trees, leaving her flowers scattered on the ground.

  I was left standing there. I picked up the posy of cornflowers and walked out of the thicket into the field. The sun had sunk low in the clear, pale sky; its rays too seemed to have grown pale and cold. They were not shining, but diffusing an even, almost watery light. There was just half an hour left till sunset, but there was no evening glow in the sky. A gusty wind raced towards me over the dry yellow stubble, blowing little crumpled leaves up into the air and sweeping them past me, over the path and along the edge of the wood. The whole side of the wood that faced the field like a wall was trembling and glittering with tiny gleams, sharp but not bright; and over the reddish leaves on the ground, and the blades of grass, and the sticks of straw, there glistened innumerable strands of autumn spiders’ webs, trembling in the wind. I halted …

  I felt sad. Through the fresh but cheerless smile of fading nature, I could sense a dismal apprehension as the impending winter stealthily approached. High above me a cautious raven flew by, its wings sharply and heavily cleaving the air; turning its head, it gave me a sideways look, soared up and disappeared behind the woods with a sharp caw. A big flock of pigeons flew merrily up from a threshing floor, suddenly whirled about in a column and scattered busily over the fields—a sure sign of autumn. Someone was clattering along in an empty cart behind the bare hilltop nearby …

  I went back home. But the image of poor Akulina remained with me a long time; and I still have her cornflowers, faded long ago …

  PUSHKIN PRESS

  Pushkin Press was founded in 1997, and publishes novels, essays, memoirs, children’s books—everything from timeless classics to the urgent and contemporary.

  This book is part of the Pushkin Collection of paperbacks, designed to be as satisfying as possible to hold and to enjoy. It is typeset in Monotype Baskerville, based on the transitional English serif typeface designed in the mid-eighteenth century by John Baskerville. It was litho-printed on Munken Premium White Paper and notch-bound by the independently owned printer TJ International in Padstow, Cornwall. The cover, with French flaps, was printed on Rives Linear Bright White paper. The paper and cover board are both acid-free and Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certified.

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duced, to be read and read again.

  stefan zweig · edgar allan poe · isaac babel · tomás gonzález · ulrich plenzdorf · joseph kessel · velibor čolić · louise de vilmorin · marcel aymé · alexander pushkin · maxim biller · julien gracq · brothers grimm · hugo von hofmannsthal · george sand · philippe beaussant · iván repila · e.t.a. hoffmann · alexander lernet-holenia · yasushi inoue · henry james · friedrich torberg · arthur schnitzler · antoine de saint-exupéry · machi tawara · gaito gazdanov · hermann hesse · louis couperus · jan jacob slauerhoff · paul morand · mark twain · paul fournel · antal szerb · jona oberski · medardo fraile · héctor abad · peter handke · ernst weiss · penelope delta · raymond radiguet · petr král · italo svevo · régis debray · bruno schulz · teffi egon hostovský · johannes urzidil · józef wittlin

  COPYRIGHT

  Pushkin Press

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  London WC2H 9JQ

  English translation © 2020 Nicolas Pasternak Slater and Maya Slater

  First Love was first published as Pervaya lyubov (Первая любовь) in Biblioteka Dlya Chteniya (Saint Petersburg, March 1860)

  ‘Bezhin Meadow’ was first published as ‘Bezhin lug’ (Бежин луг) in A Sportsman’s Sketches (1852)

  ‘Biryuk’ was first published as ‘Biryuk’ (Бирюк) in A Sportsman’s Sketches (1852)

  ‘The Rattling’ was first published as ‘Stuchit!’ (Стучит!) in A Sportsman’s Sketches (1852)

  ‘The District Doctor’ was first published as ‘Uyezdnyi lekar’ (‘Уездный лекарь’) in A Sportsman’s Sketches (1852)

  ‘The Lovers’ Meeting’ was first published as as Svidaniye (‘Свидание’) in A Sportsman’s Sketches (1852)

  This translation first published by Pushkin Press in 2020

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  eISBN 13: 978–1–78227–602–9

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