Must he really go to town for that purpose? And where to? How? That was the only thing that disturbed him; but as he was convinced that the thing was necessary and that he needed it, it really became a necessity, and he felt that he was not free and that his eyes involuntarily followed every young woman.
He did not approve of having relations with a married woman or a maid in his own village. He knew by report that both his father and grandfather had been quite different in this matter from other landowners of that time. At home they had never had any entanglements with peasant-women, and he had decided that he would not do so either; but afterwards, feeling himself ever more and more under compulsion and imagining with horror what might happen to him in the neighbouring country town, and reflecting on the fact that the days of serfdom were now over, he decided that it might be done on the spot. Only it must be done so that no one should know of it, and not for the sake of debauchery but merely for health’s sake – as he said to himself. And when he had decided this he became still more restless. When talking to the village Elder, the peasants, or the carpenters, he involuntarily brought the conversation round to women, and when it turned to women he kept it on that theme. He noticed the women more and more.
III
TO settle the matter in his own mind was one thing but to carry it out was another. To approach a woman himself was impossible. Which one? Where? It must be done through someone else, but to whom should he speak about it?
He happened to go into a watchman’s hut in the forest to get a drink of water. The watchman had been his father’s huntsman, and Eugéne Ivánich chatted with him, and the man began telling some strange tales of hunting sprees. It occurred to Eugéne Ivánich that it would be convenient to arrange matters in this hut, or in the wood, only he did not know how to manage it and whether old Daniel would undertake the arrangement. ‘Perhaps he will be horrified at such a proposal and I shall have disgraced myself, but perhaps he will agree to it quite simply.’ So he thought while listening to Daniel’s stories. Daniel was telling how once when they had been stopping at the hut of the sexton’s wife in an outlying field, he had brought a woman for Fëdor Zakhárich Pryánishnikov.
‘It will be all right,’ thought Eugéne.
‘Your father, may the kingdom of heaven be his, did not go in for nonsense of that kind.’
‘It won’t do,’ thought Eugéne. But to test the matter he said: ‘How was it you engaged in such bad things?’
‘But what was there bad in it? She was glad, and Fëdor Zakhárich was satisfied, very satisfied. I got a ruble. Why, what was he to do? He too is a lively limb apparently, and drinks wine.’
‘Yes, I may speak,’ thought Eugéne, and at once proceeded to do so.
‘And do you know, Daniel, I don’t know how to endure it,’ – he felt himself going scarlet.
Daniel smiled.
‘I am not a monk – I have been accustomed to it.’
He felt that what he was saying was stupid, but was glad to see that Daniel approved.
‘Why of course, you should have told me long ago. It can all be arranged,’ said he: ‘only tell me which one you want.’
‘Oh, it is really all the same to me. Of course not an ugly one, and she must be healthy.’
‘I understand!’ said Daniel briefly. He reflected.
‘Ah! There is a tasty morsel,’ he began. Again Eugéne went red. ‘A tasty morsel. See here, she was married last autumn.’ Daniel whispered, – ‘and he hasn’t been able to do anything. Think what that is worth to one who wants it!’
Eugène even frowned with shame.
‘No, no,’ he said. ‘I don’t want that at all. I want, on the contrary’ (what could the contrary be?), ‘on the contrary I only want that she should be healthy and that there should be as little fuss as possible – a woman whose husband is away in the army or something of that kind.’
‘I know. It’s Stepanída I must bring you. Her husband is away in town, just the same as a soldier. And she is a fine woman, and clean. You will be satisfied. As it is I was saying to her the other day – you should go, but she …’
‘Well then, when is it to be?’
‘To-morrow if you like. I shall be going to get some tobacco and I will call in, and at the dinner-hour come here, or to the bath-house behind the kitchen garden. There will be nobody about. Besides after dinner everybody takes a nap.’
‘All right then.’
A terrible excitement seized Eugène as he rode home. ‘What will happen? What is a peasant woman like? Suppose it turns out that she is hideous, horrible? No, she is handsome,’ he told himself, remembering some he had been noticing. ‘But what shall I say? What shall I do?’
