These words were spoken by our universally respected Ivan Vasilyevich at the end of a discussion we had been having about whether, in order to achieve individual perfection in life, it was first necessary to alter the conditions in which people live. In fact no one had actually argued that it is impossible to decide for oneself what is good and what is bad, but Ivan Vasilyevich had a curious way of answering questions of his own which had arisen in the course of discussion, and using these thoughts of his as a pretext for telling us about episodes which had occurred in his own life. He would frequently lose sight of the reason which had originally set off his narrative, and get carried away by the story, all the more so since he was an exceptionally sincere and truthful story-teller.
And so it was on this particular occasion.
‘I will tell you about something that happened to me personally. My whole life has been like this – not influenced at all by environment, but by something else altogether.’
‘By what, then?’ we asked him.
‘Well, it’s a long story. It will take some telling if you are really going to understand.’
‘Then please go on, and tell us.’
Ivan Vasilyevich reflected for a moment, then nodded his head.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘my whole life was changed by what happened one night, or rather one morning.’
‘So what was it?’
‘The thing was, I had fallen deeply in love. I had been in love many times before, but this time my feelings were something far stronger. It’s a long time ago now; she even has married daughters of her own. Her family name was B—–, yes, Varenka B—–’ (here Ivan Vasilyevich mentioned the family name). ‘Even at fifty she was still an outstanding beauty. But when she was young, at eighteen, she was absolutely enchanting: tall, shapely, graceful, and imposing – yes, really imposing. She always held herself very erect, as though it was not in her nature to do otherwise, with her head thrown slightly back, and this, together with her beauty and her tall stature, and despite her thinness, boniness even, gave her a sort of regal air which might have been intimidating, had it not been for the charming, always joyful smile of her mouth and her wonderful shining eyes, and the general effect of her lovely, youthful being.’
‘What a picture Ivan Vasilyevich is painting for us!’
‘Well, describe her as I may, it is impossible by describing her to make you see her as she really was. But that is not the point. The events I want to tell you about took place in the 1840s. At that time I was a student at a provincial university. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing I have no idea, but in those days our university contained no intellectual groups, no theories whatever; we were simply young men and we lived as young men typically do – studying, and enjoying ourselves too. I was a very jolly, lively young fellow, and well off into the bargain. I was the owner of a really spirited horse, an ambler; I used to go tobogganing with the young ladies (skating having not yet come into fashion); and I was much given to celebrating with my companions (in those days we never drank anything but champagne; and if there was no money we didn’t drink at all – we never drank vodka instead, as they do nowadays). And my chief delight was going to evening parties and balls. I was a good dancer, and not at all bad-looking.’
‘Come now, there’s no need to be quite so modest,’ put in one of the ladies in our company. ‘We are quite familiar with your daguerreotype portrait. It isn’t true to say that you were not bad-looking – you were handsome.’
