Doctor Zhivago (80 page)

An hour later, after much persuasion, she calmed down and fell asleep. Yurii Andreievich went outside. The wolves were nearer than the night before. They vanished even more swiftly and again before he could make out in which direction they went. They had stood in a bunch and he had not had time to count them, but it seemed to him that there were more of them.

It was the thirteenth day of their stay at Varykino. There was nothing new or different about it. The wolves, after having disappeared for a few days, had again howled in the night. Once again, mistaking them for dogs, and frightened by the omen, Larisa Feodorovna, just as before, announced that she was leaving the next day. Her usual balance was disturbed by attacks of anxiety, natural in a woman unused to pouring out her feelings all day long or to the luxury of unrestrained affection.

The same scenes were repeated again and again, so that when that morning Lara, as she had done so many times before, began to pack for the return journey, it was as if the thirteen days since their arrival had not existed at all.

It was again damp and dark in the rooms, this time because the weather was overcast. It was less cold, and judging from the look of the dark, low clouds it would snow any moment. Yurii Andreievich was exhausted by the physical and mental strain of too many sleepless nights. His legs were weak and his thoughts were in a tangle; shivering with cold and rubbing his hands, he walked about from room to room, waiting to see what Lara would decide and what he would have to do in consequence.

She did not know herself. Just then she would have given anything to exchange their chaotic freedom for a daily round, however strenuous, but laid down once and for all, for work and obligations, so that they could live a decent, honest, sensible life.

She began her day as usually making the beds, sweeping, dusting, and cooking breakfast. Then she began to pack and asked the doctor to harness the horse; she had firmly resolved to go.

Yurii Andreievich did not argue. It was mad to return to town, where the wave of arrests must have reached its peak, but it was equally mad to remain, alone and unarmed, in this winter desert with its own hazards.

Besides, there was hardly an armful of hay left in the barn or the sheds. Of course, had it been possible to settle down for a long stay, the doctor would have scouted around looking for new ways of getting food and fodder, but it wasn
'
t worth it for a few uncertain days. He gave up the thought and went to harness the horse.

He wasn
'
t good at it. Samdeviatov had taught him how to do it, but he kept forgetting. Still, he managed it, though clumsily. He strapped the yoke to the shafts, wound the slack and knotted the end of the metal-studded strap around one of them, then, one leg braced against the horse
'
s flank, pulled the two ends of the stiff collar tight and fastened them. At last he led the horse to the porch, tied it, and went inside to call Lara.

She and Katenka had their coats on and everything was packed, but Lara was in great distress. Wringing her hands and on the verge of tears, she begged him to sit down a moment and, throwing herself into a chair and getting up again, spoke incoherently, in a high-pitched plaintive singsong, stumbling over her words and repeatedly interjecting:
"
What do you think?
"

"
I can
'
t help it, I don
'
t know how it
'
s happened, but you can see for yourself, we can
'
t possibly go now, so late, it will be dark soon, we
'
ll be caught in the darkness in your terrible forest. What do you think? I
'
ll do whatever you tell me to, but I simply can
'
t make up my mind to go, something tells me not to, but do whatever you think best. What do you think? Why don
'
t you say something? We
'
ve wasted half the day, goodness knows how. Tomorrow we
'
ll be more sensible, more careful. What do you think? How would it be if we stayed one more night? And tomorrow we
'
ll get up early and start at daybreak, at six or seven. What do you think? You
'
ll light the stove and write one more evening and we
'
ll have one more night here, wouldn
'
t that be lovely, darling, wonderful? Oh, God, have I done something wrong again? Why don
'
t you say something?
"

"
You
'
re exaggerating. Dusk is a long way off, it
'
s quite early. But have it your way. We
'
ll stay. Only calm yourself, don
'
t be so upset. Come now, let
'
s take off our coats and unpack. And Katenka says she
'
s hungry. We
'
ll have something to eat. You are quite right, there would have been no point in going so suddenly, with so little preparation. But don
'
t be so upset, and don
'
t cry. I
'
ll light the stove in a moment. But before I do that, I might as well take the sleigh, since it
'
s at the door, and bring what
'
s left of the logs in our old woodshed; we
'
re entirely out. Don
'
t cry now. I
'
ll be back soon.
"

Several sets of sleigh tracks led up to the woodshed of the Zhivagos
'
house; Yurii Andreievich had made them on his earlier trips, and the snow over the threshold was trampled and littered from his last visit two days before.

The sky, which had been cloudy since morning, had cleared. It was cold again. The old park came right up to the shed, as if to peer at the doctor
'
s face and remind him of something. The snow was deep that winter. It was piled high over the threshold so that the lintel seemed lower and the shed hunchbacked. Snow hung over the edge of the roof almost down to the doctor
'
s head, like the rim of a gigantic mushroom. Just above it, as though plunging a point of its crescent into the snow, stood the new moon, glowing with a gray blaze along its edge.

Although it was early in the afternoon and full daylight, the doctor felt as if he were standing late at night in the dark forest of his life. Such was the darkness in his soul, such was his dejection. The new moon shining almost at eye level was an omen of separation and an image of solitude.

He was so tired that he could hardly stand. He threw the logs out of the shed onto the sleigh in smaller armfuls than usual; to handle the icy wood with snow clinging to it was painful even though he wore gloves. The work did not make him feel any warmer. Something within him had broken and come to a standstill. He cursed his luckless fate and prayed God to spare the life of the beautiful, sad, humble, and simple-hearted woman he loved. And the new moon stood over the barn blazing without warmth and shining without giving light.

The horse turned its head in the direction of the Mikulitsyns
'
house and whinnied, at first softly, timidly, then louder, with assurance.

"
What
'
s that for?
"
Yurii Andreievich wondered.
"
It can
'
t be fright. A frightened horse wouldn
'
t neigh, and it wouldn
'
t be such a fool as to signal to the wolves if it had scented them, and so cheerfully, too. It must be looking forward to going home. Hold on a moment, we
'
ll soon be off.
"

He added chips for kindling to the logs, and strips of bark that curled like shoe leather, covered the load with sacking, lashed it to the sleigh with a rope, and turned back, walking at the horse
'
s head.

The horse neighed again, this time in answer to another horse neighing in the distance.
"
What can that be? Is it possible that Varykino is not as deserted as we thought?
"
It never occurred to him that they had guests or that the neighing came from the direction of Mikulitsyn
'
s house. He took the sleigh around the farm buildings, and since the house was hidden from him by snowy folds of land he did not see its front entrance.

Taking his time—why should he hurry?—he stacked the wood and, unhitching the horse, left the sleigh in the barn. Then he took the horse to the stables, put it in the far stall where there was less draft, and stuffed the few remaining handfuls of hay into the rack of the manger.

He felt uneasy as he walked home. In front of the porch stood a roomy peasant sleigh with a sleek black foal harnessed to it, and walking up and down beside it was an equally sleek, plump stranger, who gave the horse an occasional slap and had a look at its fetlocks.

There were voices coming from the house. Neither wishing to eavesdrop nor close enough to hear more than an occasional word, Yurii Andreievich nevertheless involuntarily slowed down and suddenly stopped. He recognized the voice of Komarovsky talking to Lara and Katenka. They were apparently in the first room near the door. They were arguing, and, judging from the sound of her voice, Lara was upset and crying, now violently contradicting him and now agreeing with him.

Something made Yurii Andreievich feel that just then Komarovsky was speaking about him, saying something to the effect that he should not be trusted (
"
serving two masters,
"
he thought he heard), that it was impossible to tell if he were more attached to Lara or to his family, that Lara must not rely on him, because if she did she would be
"
running with the hare and the hounds
"
and would
"
fall between two stools.
"
Yurii Andreievich went in.

As he had thought, they were in the first room on the right, Komarovsky in a fur coat reaching to his heels, Lara holding Katenka by her coat collar, trying to fasten it but not finding the hooks and shouting at her not to wriggle, and Katenka protesting:
"
Easy, Mama, you
'
ll choke me.
"
All three were standing in their outdoor clothes, ready to leave. When Yurii Andreievich came in, Lara and Komarovsky rushed to meet him, speaking together:

"
Where have you been all this time? We need you so badly!
"

"
Hello, Yurii Andreievich. As you see, in spite of the rude things we said to each other last time, I
'
m with you once again, though you didn
'
t invite me.
"

"
Hello, Victor Ippolitovich.
"

"
Where on earth have you been?
"
Lara asked again.
"
Now listen to what he says and decide quickly for both of us. There isn
'
t any time. We have to hurry.
"

"
But why are we all standing? Sit down, Victor Ippolitovich. How do you mean, darling, where have I been? You know I went to get the wood, and afterwards I saw to the horse. Victor Ippolitovich, do sit down, please.
"

"
Well, aren
'
t you amazed to see him? How is it you don
'
t look surprised? Here we were, regretting that he had gone away and that we hadn
'
t jumped at his offer, and now here he is, right under your very eyes, and you don
'
t even look surprised! But what is even more astonishing is what he has to tell us now. Tell him, Victor Ippolitovich.
"

"
I don
'
t know what Larisa Feodorovna has in mind. One thing I must explain is this: I deliberately spread the rumor that I had left, but I stayed on to give you and Larisa Feodorovna more time to think over what we had discussed, and perhaps come to a less rash decision.
"

"
But we can
'
t put it off any longer,
"
broke in Lara.
"
Now is the perfect time to leave. And tomorrow morning…But let Victor Ippolitovich tell you himself.
"

"
One moment, Lara dear. Forgive me, Victor Ippolitovich. Why should we all stand about in our coats? Let
'
s take them off and sit down. After all, these are serious things we have to talk about, we can
'
t settle them in a minute. I am afraid, Victor Ippolitovich, our discussion has touched on something personal; it would be ludicrous and embarrassing to go into it. But the fact is that while I have never considered going away with you, Lara
'
s case is different. On the rare occasions when our concerns were not the same and we remembered that we were not one person but two, I have always told her that she ought to give your suggestion more consideration. And in fact she has never stopped thinking about it, she has come back to it again and again.
"