Dreaming

There is relief when dreams are past
And from their hold one's free at last.
There is healing in such decay
When one's mind has to obey.
But what cure is there when one
Is such nightmares bestowed upon?
What dulcet sound of absent gravity
Does one hear with no reality?

betrothed in lies, with frantical charms -
but the arrival of a mind too slow
between us, melting our insides
playing the life,
living the play.
the opposing thoughts
in betrayal united
in treason singular
in deceit one.
thin harms and glory
reset to pain everything.

Delayed Imagination

I am left segmented in almost true pieces
and feel as if my Heart can replace what it misses
with a word.
And the language of Silence is so twisted
that I really doubt it has ever existed
or been heard.
With impartial cries and impaling shouts
Nothing is ever sent out of the mouths -
this is absurd.
I gather my limbs from this memorial Gate
ethereal Voices scream that I am late.
I fall earthward.

Our Run

He called the bluff of stars once
He told me so, "be still
For thou ne'er get the chance";
I made rules of his will.

So he turned to me then
With fingers cold perused my brow
He spoke of cowardice of men
"None of them shall save us now.

I doubt thee not, for I can see
Thine eyes, the mirrors of water;
But thine are not the clearest of seas -
But rather a stormy ocean's laughter.

I shan't say thou art mine own -
I'd lie, for I know not thine ways,
Thine perfect voice, so sweet a tone
Changing with a monstruous grace."
"Monstruous, sayest thou?
Then thou knowest not of me!
Nor of words mine, nor of my vows,"
Told I him in anger's spree.

"Givest thou thine hand to me?
For my belief stays in it only.
And hope so blind thou might not see:
What's as wrong as being lonely?"

With gazes wide and voice unsure
I took his hands and laid a kiss;
"Thou might think we have no cure
But thou alone - a thought amiss!"

Mellow Fear

I found the wings to take me far -
Yet I have no arms to empower them -
But I have come to trust myself
For a dream within a dream I have.

And at night it is the dulcet sound of waves
I fear, but what is fear without hope?
For an angel's glimpse is blessed hope
And hope within the hope I have.

I will fight if I must, yet will still try
To cover the ocean of grief that I am left
But what is grey when shadow's cast?
And light within the dark I have.

I betray myself in my faint run
To enrich a soul before my own;
But beneath the depth I know there's height
And life within mad death there is.

For blind is he who cannot see -
I fear I have become a liar;
For sun has set yet no light burns my eye
But light within the dark I have.

And I shall raise myself when colourblind
For deaf is he who cannot hear.
However, I fear myself, for I don't hear the call
But hope within my hope I have.

The same I am and the journey's long gone
A voyage rather awaits me now.
Awaken I crawl towards my mind's limbs
For dreams within my dreams I have.

Part One

"Enhanced complications," I yelled, the cold walls reverbing ethereally my voice. For ever since I had been aware of the incomparable difficulties that his arrival would arouse, mine had not been the greatest of efforts. I had not prepared decent subjects for him to develop, nor had I known the direction of his hidden inclinations. My ground was falling while I was trying to catch my ever-ascending wings.

It was yet dishonorable of me not to welcome him within these walls, well acquainted with the effects upon his state.

"Alas, you're here," I whispered as he took his fashionable hat off, searching for my presence in the hallway. "You've changed," was my last thought before I sighed and began to descend the stairs.

***

Nothing, I believe, is more irrational than the war. With conflicts too shameful to take care of personally, our leaders pretend to know better and send our men away. The more people one deserts, the more respectable one becomes. How glad I am that my fate has not been designed so as to fulfill this mission! I am a woman, and it is rather silly of me (perhaps even unnecessary?) to pretend to understand their reasons - at least this is what my exceedingly eager brothers have made me believe. Oh, this pride that women simply cannot feel! The glory of serving the country and its purpose!

I am not that realistic, I fear, but must I? Has anyone encountered so far the written word that establishes the limits of a woman's thoughts? I do not believe in duty. If I were to enroll, I would be beheaded due to cowardice.

But alas, what do I know?

And what is there to know, apart from the gaiety that roams free in Moscow these days? At least the gatherings that I often attend never give me reason for distress. I am the jolliest of girls, for I have no predisposition towards caring about the affairs of the gentlemen. Let them deal with the Tsar's businesses! I am most thankful that there are separated rooms for separate subjects at each ball that I happen to go to.

Nevertheless, I know how important it is that each lady hosts an event every so often, whatever the circumstances be. With or without a war approaching, a true lady ought to obey the rules of propriety.

I could not but agree with my mother's revelation some time ago: we should throw a ball!, she said. I was focusing on a new sonata that my elder brother, Leonti, had given me as a gift the night before. My dear sister Olga, (Olya, as we all called her; personally, Olga sounded like the name of a glutton elderly lady, and my sister was anything but that), lacked in distraction and never failed to surprise us with new metaphores that stood clearly for proof of her literary talent:

"Mother, will I ever be spared of the constant neglect of society? ...Is there any place left after the oceans of unenduring boredom have erased my spirit?"

Veronika, the youngest of us, could not pull herself together; she found amusement in our sister's grief and responded to each of her exclamations:

"Oh, Olya, what interest do you think we find in your complaints?"

And I, from behind the pianoforte, giggled as I turned the pages, hoping that these times would never end. It was not every day that all three sisters had time to spare with our mother. Nina wandered all day long in the family's park, which I would never understand; Olya shut herself in one of the sitting-rooms and worked on her stories, which no one would see published, and I, with no sense of shame whatsoever, sat each waking moment in front of the instrument and carelessly hummed the songs in my head.

"Well, at least I make some efforts to bring good disposition into this house! I do not want to be the only one whose parents sit idle indoors and wait for other opportunities."

As if this suggestion would not be enough for our mother, she continued:
"Not to say that countess Gavrilova has thrown balls for each of her five daughters' birthdays for the past three months!"

"But our birthdays are all in March, dear Olya," said I; "what are we to do until then? What are you to do till March?", I added with a hint of a smile.

"Watch your tongue, will you, Katia?", my mother said with somewhat of an ill-disposition. "With the war coming, I believe there is neither time, nor nerves to spare on sisterly arguments."

I listened halfway through her speech, but upon hearing her bring the war up again I took my attention from her, back to my sheets.
"There she goes again," I mumbled. Then I rose my voice to add: "What if there is no war after all?"

Olya broke the silence with an ironic laugh:
"Indeed, Bonapart will wake up one day, soon, I suppose, and say: 'Oh, why must I invade the Russians? After all, I can rule the world without their consent... Perhaps I'll just ignore their enormous power and conquer the other, more insignificant peoples.' Surely you are the only one to find hope in this thought!"

My mother brightened as she heard this and replied, "she is not the only one, dear... I do hope the course of things changes, yet who knows? ...But in the meantime, why do not we give a reception? Thus all of you shall be pleased."

We all jumped out of our seats and approached mother hurriedly, embracing her in turns and exclaiming our heartfelt consents.

"Girls, it is to see what your father thinks of it."

But this was no obstacle in front of our serenity. Father always approved of our plans. What was there more to say? The Tvardovskys were hosting a ball!

As usual, Olya made sure that she would not miss any details; and so she preoccupied herself with the decorative affairs, while Veronika was very eager to make me busy with her own affairs. She was in constant doubt whether she should wear her latest gown; and what about the shoes? And her hair, "oh, Katia, the hair! What am I to do with it?" And I, with a gentle smile, would reply: "Ask mother."

For of course, our mother was the least interested in the preparations for the event, and thus she had lots of time to spend with her youngest daughter.

Do I seem a little strange? For I have stated before that my countenance is rather joyous and my happiness can hardly find an equal. Indeed, I am happy when I see my sisters caught in their little
nonsense, yet I do not rejoice in them. Indeed, I would much rather stay in the company of good society than alone, and only God knows how much I enjoy the admiration of others! I believe every young lady ought to do so, especially at my age, though I fear to exaggerate. My sisters often forget about others and speak of nothing else but the problems they ever face. I have never wished to be so, for I know how absurd it is to see nothing but one's own issues.
And so, for fear I would cross the borders of propriety and nerves, I sit quiet in my corner (a very pretty one, to be honest!) and enjoy the sight.
At least thus I had proceeded until father announced the guestlist a few days later.
"The Kuznetsovs?", cried the girls upon hearing the first family to come. Olya's green eyes shimmered with content, as if the party was already enough for her. One might think that is because of her best friend's belonging to that respective family, yet I, and only I, after countless nights spent in candlelight to hear how Olya's heart was entirely in the hands of the eldest prince Kuznetsov (and I kid you not, there was plenty of reasons!), alas, only I knew the cause of her joy. It did not pass unnoticed, therefore my father found it important to say:
"But, dear Olya, I fear Anya Kuznetsova shall not attend, since she is to leave for Petersburg."
No pained regrets sprang out of her mouth, and therefore I took the liberty of expressing remorse for her departure.
"She is going to relatives, is she not?", asked I with artless curiosity.
"Yes, but I cannot seem to understand why she is taking her brother with her."
"Oh," I gasped. "Indeed, why?", I quickly added as I looked at my sister.
She was desperately looking back, somehow waiting for further enquiries from my part. I shook my head and sank in my seat. Nina proved herself smart enough to continue:
"And do you happen to know which of her brothers are accompanying her, father?"
Our father thought for a bit before adding, "Why, yes, the youngest of the three! Aleksei, is it not?"
Olya, which was no longer in a tense state, breathed out with relief.
"Yes, quite so, Aleksei."
Her cheeks were unusually red, and mother asked if she was well. Of course there was no hope for remaining calm anymore, therefore she excused herself out of the sitting-room but just a moment after her closing the door Leonti and our other brother, Dima, came into the room laughing.
"What is it, boys?", said father.
They could not stop laughing, which made us very curious. Leonti was so close to falling on the floor that I almost thought he was sick. The whole family was staring at the two, except Olya evidently, who was probably sharpening her pencils and gathering her sheets of paper, hidden under the bed and behind the wardrobe.
At last, the boys calmed down and could tell us the reason for their behaving so. Leonti thought it best if he would reveal their recently found secret.
"Well, before I start," pausing once again to laugh a bit, "I must assure you, mother, that I have not forgotten your lesson... you know, as to its being forbidden to laugh at somebody else; yet...", pausing once again!, (I could not help thinking that they might have discovered Olya's stories; they were a secret to everyone in the family but myself, mainly because of the hints of her love for Sergei Kuznetsov... alas, a terrible thing would happen if Olya's aggressive temper were startled by this discovery!) "...yet, we called on the Gavrilovs today, as you have asked us," Leonti said, changing his tone as if to insinuate something - we all knew its meaning. The Gavrilovs were in fact countess Gavrilova, a widow, and the five pretty, young, unmarried daughters of hers; and, as Leonti was soon to be six-and-twenty and Dima twenty-four, it went without saying that our dear boys would be forced to make two of them their wives. "...And, upon being introduced into their living-room, we heard the little Karina declare as if tormented by the most unimaginable of distresses, 'but mother, I must go and fight with the others! Especially if Leonti goes too!' And I could not but stare at her, wondering if laughing would be the best option."
"And I assume you did not laugh, did you?", I replied, while the others began to laugh. I found it very embarrassing for the poor girl, yet I pretended to enjoy this little comedic story. Karina Gavrilova was only fifteen and did not have too much of an imagination. She most probably thought the war was just a silly game - much of what I did, really! Therefore, I was the only one to barely laugh at Leonti's words. Soon the preparations for dinner commenced, therefore our parents had to leave us in each other's company. As soon as they were gone Leonti started:
"What is wrong with you, Katia? I obviously said something hilarious, and all you do is smile?"
I thought a little - not too long, for I did not want to seem speechless - a defeat in my brother's eyes! - and responded with a neutral tone:
"Yes, dear Leonti, all I do is smile. While you and your friends imagine to know everything about the war and never fail to bring the subject up in every conversation, I cannot fancy myself acquainted with this topic. If I were Karina Gavrilova's age I would say the same thing." I paused to notice the others' reaction. Nina and Dima were somehow startled at my contradicting Leonti (the greatest authority among us, one would say). "...Alas, not really the same thing, for I would never, ever," adding a bright smile, "ever fall in love with you, however charming you might be."
A little puzzled, Leonti said:
"And why is that, pray? Do not you find me an outstanding companion? Are you that pretentious, dear Katia?"
"It is not my fault, I dare say. Well, it might be, a little, for I know you and the jokes you make about the Gavrilovs. Alas, alas, if I could shut my eyes and pretend our world was not to alter entirely, I would say the very same thing. I would fight beside each peasant Russia has to give, only if that would be a game I would be challenged to play. But I am a coward; and thank the Lord that I have no duty of the sort."
My speech waited for a reply. In vain. I had defeated Leonti's sharp mind and twisted replies. I felt like a true champion!
That evening I retreated at last in my chamber. Mine and Olya's, in fact; because even if our home had eight bedrooms, which would have been more than enough for our large family, Olya had insisted to still share her bedroom with me. I could not complain, because she was my dearest friend. I knew very well that I was not hers in return, for she had Anya Kuznetsova to write letters to, but my heart was sure that I would forever be her object of reliance. That evening (just three days before the before-mentioned ball), Olya seemed unusually open to myself. She kept me awake until midnight, chatting about every subject available.
"I know that you favoured Lucretia because of her sharpness of mind, yet... I felt she would not be suitable for the new character... You know, Lucretia is the one that I plan to marry to Frank, the English officer."
"But would it not be too strange if you just erased her? You would be left a great deal of gaps to fill, for instance when she saves that little girl from the burning house --"
"Nonsense, I have already taken care of it. I've replaced her with a different Lucretia."
"How did you manage? I thought, well... I thought her personality was the reason you started writing in the first place!"
She stared at me in awe, partly because my being so unaware was a surprise to her, partly because I had no right to interfere with her choices - which I had not, although Lucretia was my favourite, as Olya herself had declared.
"Well, Katia, I cannot imagine that you should know the doubts in a writer's mind, for you do not write yourself...", and as she began, I knew one of her self-defence speeches would follow.
"Forget it, will you? Now tell me, what is the new Lucretia like?", I stopped her, before she would say something regretable.
"Well, you see, I do not mean to insinuate anything by this, but you know how the old Lucretia mirrored your choices, your style, your talents; and now... alas, now she mirrors myself."
I could not help widening my eyes while she smiled as if she wished to excuse herself for the impropriety. After a few moments, I said, "and what, pray, have you altered about her character, so as to make her take after you? Are we so different that you felt an urge to change her? Did you not like her before? What was wrong with the old Lucretia?"
She took my hands to calm me, and it certainly had its impact upon me. "Dear sister, you know who pictures the English officer in my head, do you not?"
"Sergei Kuznetsov, of course," I said, still gazing into her eyes.
"Well, I felt that his character would not match yours; I mean to say that their stories would not match. Lucretia was quiet, just as you, and would not disturb anyone with her cares; thus was the officer as well, therefore my story would be insipid, plain, artful."
As sweet as she tried to be, I caught a note of shamelessness in her voice, which led me to believe that she was not at all in pains that I had been wiped away off her pages. "Very well, it is your story, not mine," I at last added. ""Yet I find it difficult to believe...", I began. But how could I tell my beloved sister that she was not entitled to hope for Sergei Kuznetsov's affection? As lively as she fancied herself, we were very much alike. She had her passionate ways and she managed to develop inclinations for objectives that she would eventually achieve. But could I not do the same? Oh, so horrid are the expectations from an elder sister! One cannot be at peace with their siblings, especially with Olya.
"Difficult to believe what..?", she responded after noticing how my eyes wandered upon the walls.
"I do not know... I might not express myself very credibly, but is it not more likely that your story shall not become real, now that you have made an effort to write it down?"
She seemed confused by my twisted reflection, therefore I added:
"Olya, you should consider this: there are many, many writers that have related stories that have taken place at a certain time in the past" - I stressed the words as I saw her green eyes turn away from me. "And very well even, for we should not know about them if they had not! I do not mean that your stories will lack in success, for you are very, very talented" - she smiled - "but I am afraid for your happiness."
My last words left her in utter confusion. I no longer knew what I was saying, let alone her! And then I found a peculiar pleasure in the game.
"What do you mean to say by that?"
"Well, there are two main reasons, Olya. The first one is rather childlike and most improbable. Well, think a little; you become famous and the love story between Lucretia and the English officer - Frank - as well. Sergei reads it and there is a slight chance that he forms an idea of who the officer might be. This is why I fear you shall not be happy."
Surprisingly, my sister began to laugh. "Nonsense, nonsense, I shall never gain renown, try though I might. And what is your second reason?", she continued, taking a deep breath.
"This is not as childlike, though it is very superstitious." Olya's eyes widened as she showed me that she was looking forward to hearing it.
"You might know nothing about this, but I shall tell you anyway. You know that I am very imaginative, just like you, do you not?"
Olya nodded.
"And therefore I dream a lot, this is quite evident."
Olya nodded once more.
"Yet I do not only dream at night, my dear sister. I dream during day as well. It is quite strange and unheard of for you, but I assure you that you have the same habit. Only that you prefer to write your dreams down and call them stories."
"What in the world are you trying to say, Katia?", she whispered with unfounded fear.
"Be not alarmed, I shall get to the point in a moment. As you dream of Lucretia and Frank, I dream of an unnamed prince and myself. This is what every girl imagines at our age, is it not? Yet I see with every passing day that my dream is so unreal and impossible, that I begin to believe that I dream for nothing; and I do not know if this is ever going to change, for I am rather unusual. And this... my dear sister, is why I fear that Kuznetsov shall never reply to your affections."
"You do not ...really believe in that, do you?", Olya replied taking my hands in hers again. "I am sure we shall both be very happy; and we shall be friends till eternity, shall we not?"
We both burst into laughing, "yes, quite so," I replied, putting an end to our chat just as the clock struck twelve.
The following morning brought me much distress from Nina's part. She was undecided whether to wear the light blue gown that she had recently received as a gift from our mother or the white silky one at the approaching ball. I much prefered the first choice; firstly, for Nina's eyes matched the colour and the dress brought sweetness to her features, whereas the other option was common among the other young ladies that would attend the event, and secondly, to honour our mother's kindness as in giving each of us such a present.
"But what if I am the only one to wear such a colour? I would not stand being stared at the entire evening. Katia, I am afraid!"
I approached her bed to take a closer look to the two gowns. Indeed, the blue one was quite a novelty, for every girl would choose to wear white - but then again, Nina was the host's daughter! Of course she had reason to shine among the others; and, besides that, the white dress was a little worn out; much too often had our parents invited their friends to dine with us, and since Nina's age demanded a proper match of colour, white had been her best option.
But she was already sixteen; she gleamed with beauty, it was her time; at least so I thought. I did not know what to say.
"But, Katia, what will you wear?", I heard Nika ask.
I thought a little before I answered merrily:
"Why, the violet gown!"
That was specifically the gown mother had given me, yet I had not wholly intended to wear it on this occasion. It was only the distress in Nina's eyes that determined me to give her that answer.
"Oh, lovely, how lovely indeed!", she cried and started dancing. No doubt that she was already picturing herself at the ball, led by a very handsome gentleman.
With joyful eyes I watched her as I felt that something in myself was altering. I could not fully comprehend the matter, yet I could recognize the change in me: some time prior to this day I would have cried more joyfully than Nina and would have danced with a great deal more spirit than her. And yet... I could not understand why I had become so dull, happy only within. The age, I supposed back then.
But was I really that old as to never be able again to live carelessly and smile on each occasion? No, I knew, this change had begun the day the rumours about the war had first made their appearance. Oh, how I regret having lied to myself about its not affecting me!
"What is it? Katia?", I heard Nina's voice; she had finished with the jumping around and was now attending to myself. "Are you well?"
"Yes, quite well, thank you," I replied, excusing myself at last.
"Where are you going?", I heard Nina cry after me.
"Yes, where am I going?", I thought then. I was just about to sink in one of my first reflections upon life when Leonti appeared with a bright smile on his face.
"Where you going anywhere, young lady?"
"Not at all, I suppose. Have you got any plans?"
"Mind if we go for a walk?"
It was an unusually cloudy day of July and I was not very sure whether to accompany my brother. To fall ill just two days before the ball was the last thing I wanted! Yet I felt a need to get out of the house which I could not explain. It was but until Leonti began to use his usual charms on me that I replied positively.
"Then you did not really mean what you said the other day," he said while offering me his arm. I looked at him and tried to read his features; his eyes certainly betrayed his intentions. He played the game with a sole purpose: to regain his authority over me.
"Why, of course I did!", I replied with a smile. "Do not try to disarm me with your lovely words and charming looks! I know better than that."
"Oh, and that is perhaps the reason for your accepting to join me."
And as we strolled along the boulevards, my attention was captured by the latest shop windows. The fashion had not changed so much since my former observation. I slowed down my pace while I felt Leonti's arm dragging me forward; I could not help but look at the gowns on display - "so pretty," I thought. "I should tell mother when we return home."
" 'Morning," I heard Leonti say in a loud voice.
"Who was that?", I enquired, turning my head to see two gentlemen fashionably dressed.
"Friends of friends."
"Friends of friends?", I repeated in my head, "do I sense a change of tone in his voice?" Then, raising my voice, "and are these... friends of friends invited to our ball?"
He frowned and then looked at me, saw me smile and said:
"Yes, they are."
Two hours of wandering around had passed when I finally declared my defeat:
"Leonti, might we rest for a bit? I am truly exhausted!"
He rolled his eyes as if he wanted to say that our walk had only begun, yet took me to a bench nearby. Instead of sitting beside me, he chose to watch the mild Moskva's flow.
"It is peculiar to me that you have chosen such a day to go for a walk," I said turning to him. "It is going to rain... soon."
"Oh, Katia, what importance has it? I am to leave before the rain will wet your lovely curls."
"What do you mean by that?", I exclaimed with fear.
"Can you not see the signs around you? Everyone is preparing for the war, and so do I! You have lived in a cushioned cage, this world of yours; you fancy yourself safe."
"And why should I not? Is there any reason not to?"
"No, not really...", he said before sinking in silence.
Noticing that he would say nothing, I approached a different subject.
"Who were those two gentlemen that you greeted?"
Leonti at last sat down by my side. "Well, to satisfy your curiosity only, one of them was count Gavrilov, a cousin of the family your are acquainted with. The other one I fear I know only by sight and name. He is a rather mysterious fellow; prince Karminsky, as I recall."
"Why is he so mysterious?", I asked.
"I do not know... I assume he does not have many friends and attends very seldom public gatherings. Why should I know?"
"Indeed." And, after thinking a little, I continued puzzled: "but if he does not join society so often, why then has he accepted our invitation?"
Leonti laughed as the first raindrops clinged onto us: "why do you not ask him at the ball, Katia? I simply assumed that he does not go often to events. Now, it is time we returned."
We had to quicken our pace so as not to become entirely soaked and catch a dreadful cold. When I finally went downstairs to join the others, only my sisters were to be found.
"Katia, at last! We have been waiting like mad for you! Now sit and tell me what was wrong with you this morning," Nina started.
"I do not know what you mean."
"Why, of course you do... you know, when we were talking about the ballgowns and you remained silent and fixed the floor with your eyes... you cannot have forgotten!"
Oh, I remembered too well the events Nina was so eager to revive. But I could not bear to acknowledge once again the change in myself.
"Never mind," Olya interfered. "Now tell me, are you wearing the dress mother gave you?", leaning towards me as if she was trying to catch every change in my countenance.
"Yes, must I not?", I replied distractedly.
"Well, I was hoping I would borrow it... it is just so pretty and vivid!"
Before she could take back her words I cried: "and am I not pretty and vivid?"
"I did not mean that, Katia! Pray forgive me - I only meant to compliment the dress, undoubtedly!"
"But what is wrong with your green gown? I am sure it suits you far better than mine does!"
Olya thought of a reply and found one in "I do not know... could we just exchange them for one evening? Please, Katia!"
A certain strategy crawled within my mind as I replied in a weary voice: "very well, you may have it..."
A series of embraces followed and at last I was left alone in the sitting-room. "If I give her my dress, I shall have an excuse to buy a new one. Perhaps that rosy-pink gown I saw this morning will do much better than the one Olya is going to wear. What a girl!", I thought. "Had I not offered her the dress deliberately, she would have stolen it straight from my closet!"
The affair of the gown was settled straightaway. My mother accepted, for some reason or another. Either because she really trusted my taste or because she did not want any arguments happening in her house.
The rain put us all in a strange mood. Olya fell asleep at noon and woke up the next morning - a very disturbing occurrence, hence my mother began to think she had fallen ill - and Nina locked herself up in her room and did not come out until dinner.
Father called on some relations in the late afternoon, leaving mother at her work for some new cushions, and I, with an avid perseverance, started painting.
My subjects were really plain - a grey vase and a withered chrysanthemum - yet, according to Dima, who was happening to stroll on the hallway and came by to see what I was preoccupied with, I was full of potential. "You are very talented, Katja."
This remark gave me enough confidence as to have finished the painting by supper. It was clear however that my skills would never be further polished and that I would never seek further occasions to paint.
When Dima announced my new-found inclination, I replied thus:
"I am afraid that I shall be a disappointment for everyone, since I am not a natural painter; since it took me nineteen years to discover this passion, I dare say it shall take me less than a day to forget everything about it."
My mother's smile froze in expectation: "what are you talking about, dear?"
"I am saying that, if you had shown me the beauty of plastic art from an earlier age, now I would have twice my current interest in it. But as you have stressed upon my having a musical talent, I believe little can be done to erase this and find pleasure of a non-musical sort."
"Katia, you are talking nonsense," Leonti concluded, as the meal continued quietly and was at an end soon after my outbreak. However, before any family member left the table, I felt it necessary to apologize.
"I am sorry, I have been unusually bold lately. Do forgive me."
After supper I took the liberty of not joining the others in the sitting-room. I felt truly so tired that I went straight to bed. "Tomorrow I shall be the old Katia again."
Another morning found me in contemplation of the previous day. I had said meaningless things, and as my dream still persisted inside my mind, I looked at the painting I had been so desperate to finish just one day before. It was the work of an artful, insolent girl; it deserved no place on my desk.
Before I had time to get up and take it away, Nina stormed into the room with an odd look on her face.
"Katia, you would not believe what I dreamt of last night!"
I frowned as I revised my own dream. "Strange, for I have had an unusual dream myself. Tell me, will you?"
Nina crawled beside me in bed and began:
"I dreamt of you, actually, but you were not the same Katia I knew. You were grown up..."
I widened my eyes and asked, "in what way?"
Nina smiled but quickly returned to a serious look: "well, you were married... in the first place. But I assume that could not make a great difference. My dream was very static, you just sat in front of a window and looked out of it. You did not say anything, but your face seemed grown up. It was still pretty and had its charms, but something in it was changed."
"And how did you infer that I was married? And to whom?"
"You had a letter in your hand, and it was signed, 'your loving husband'. I cannot tell who he was," she laughed, "but I assume he was very handsome and rich."
"Oh, Nina, this is no strange dream. Wait until you hear mine!"
And so I told her about my enthusiasm when finding that more soldiers were needed to battle and how I enrolled straightaway leaving my family in great confusion, dying soon after arriving on the front, killed by pneumonia.
"Why would you dream of something like this?", Nina exclaimed. "Women are not allowed to battle, are they?"
I saw doubt in her eyes and quickly answered: "No, they are not. And it is for the best, I think. I wonder if Olya is up."
We found our sister on her bed with her daily dress on, surrounded by piles of sheets of paper, writing like desperate.
"Olya, it is half past seven! You cannot be writing at this hour! Wait, you have not slept at all, have you? I bet you stayed awake all night and wrote at your love story," I added with a slight smirk.
She raised her head and looked at us before replying:
"Actually, I threw the story away. I could not bear to see how Frank tore Lucretia's life apart!"
I approached her and knelt beside the bed:
"What on earth were you thinking? What are you working on now?"
"Poems, my dear Katia, poems."
Nina was ridiculously surprised when hearing that, for she had not known about her occupation; it was a complete shock for her - yet I knew somehow I should not be. Olya's talent was indeed in vast supply and she could not channel it in only one direction, which hitherto had been prose, for her creation needed constant refreshment; I let her be, only hoping that the day would come when she would show me her work.
After breakfast mother came to me and asked me if we should go and purchase that gown I had been so eager to have.
"Why should we wait until lunch? Besides, look, the weather is outstandingly nice. Not like it was yesterday, anyway; we should go straightaway!"
We did not take the carriage, both because of the proximity of the shop and the state of the weather.
The affair of the dress was soon taken care of and I got myself the most beautiful gown eyes had ever been given to see. "Olya can have my dress if she likes; I shall have a prettier one."
On our way back, mother greeted a young gentlemen which I thought I knew. It was only until she spoke his name that I acknowledged his identity and associated his name with a proper face and conduct.
"Good morning, count Gavrilov!"
He stopped, taking his hat off, looking me deeply (unusually deeply, I dare say!) in the eyes, (was it surprise in his eyes that I saw?) - greeting us both. Mother made the proper introductions and count Gavrilov felt it necessary to add:
"I believe I saw princess Tvardovskaya the other day, you were with your brother, were you not?"
I smiled. I wanted to show remembrance of the event, yet I found it inappropriate to admit. Alas, "yes, quite so; I did not have the pleasure to meet you and your... friend, for my brother was in such a hurry."
"Excuse me, I have spotted a pair of gloves, do you mind if I leave you alone for a moment? I shall be back in a bit," mother said.
And there I was, with count Gavrilov, chatting about prince Karminsky.
"And I told Karminsky, 'no, they must be in a rush", but he did not believe me. He enquired about you, princess."
I widened my eyes (once more; I believe it had become a habit of mine, given all the surprising situations I had begun to be in) - "and what did he enquire about myself?"
"Oh, nothing special; he simply asked who you were."
"Indeed, nothing special", I said turning my head with disappointment.
He took a deep breath which drew my attention and said:
"But I did not know back then who you were; I might have hinted that you were... well, that you were prince Tvardovsky's betrothed."
Incapable of uttering another word, I simply stood there and watch his expression change from jesting to frightened.
"But Leonti is not engaged - I am sure you knew that!"
"I did not... you see, we are not the closest of friends. I mean, we are, but not so close as to tell us about our... more intimate affairs."
"An engagement is not so intimate an affair as you might think, count Gavrilov," I said looking away.
"Do forgive me."
Mother returned, and therefore we had to part ways with count Gavrilov.
"What a nice young man he is!", she remarked. "Very good-looking, too!"
"Mother, I shall not marry him."
"Did I slip something of a hint?"
We arrived home, where preparations for the ball were in progress. Everyone was busy except for me. My mother finally assigned me with managing the kitchen and making sure that there were enough groceries supplies - "how wonderful!", I thought. Alas, was there anything else for me to do?
The time passed faster than I had expected - than we all had expected!
I was soon preparing for the ball, at last! And great was Olya's surprise when she saw my new gown. I noticed that she was refraining herself from asking me to give it to her and exchange once more our garments. "But not this time, sister!", I smiled at my reflection in the mirror.
The first guests had arrived but I was not ready. Yet.
There was an issue with the dress. It was a little too long at the back; it caused me plenty of distress, for I did not want to look like a peacock and be stepped on. Mother kept telling me:
"Katia, there should not be a problem, the shoes are the solution. They shall make you taller --"
"What, those shoes? Mother, I do not want to be the tallest being there is - I am already too tall."
"Nonsense, nonsense, I am sure count Gavrilov shall surpass your height --"
"Enough with count Gavrilov, please... very well, give me those shoes," I said at last, seeing that nothing else could be done to tame the situation.
"See, you aren't that tall!," mother said. "Now let us go to your sisters."
"How lovely you all are!", she exclaimed when seeing the three of us. "Will you join me downstairs now or wait until the arrival of the younger guests?"
We looked at each other with indecision. I had made my decision but could not share it with anyone. Nina was so impatient that she could not wait anymore; she left us. There was one thing that Olya and I wanted to know about each other.
"Why did you not go?", I asked her first.
"Why do you not tell me first?"
"I cannot. You shall see. Now answer!"
She started pacing in the room, now and then throwing a glance at the large mirror near the door. She loved to watch her - my - gown flow in the air. "Will you?", I repeated.
"Why, yes... I shall... just a moment." Approaching the mirror she contemplated her face and only then did she turn to me and begin to speak.
"I need to create suspense, Katia. If I go straightaway not only that those old friends of father's will place me odious questions about my insipid life, but also all young men will find me there... conversing with those old people, and none of them will consider me a possible dance partner."
I looked puzzled at her and responded:
"With this dress and this hair? With that smile, Olya? You surely do not know your true power over 'young men'."
"I have no power as long as you are anywhere around me!"
I remained silent while she adopted a sad look. "It is true, you will forever surpass my efforts. You are a hundred times lovelier than me!"
"You cannot be serious, Olya!"
"I might be... oh, dear me, it is nine o'clock already! I believe everyone is downstairs! We must go."
"Wait, I must fetch Leonti!"
I found him in his chamber, getting ready himself.
"Leonti, I need you. Are you going downstairs now?"
"Yes, of course. What do you need me for?"
I smiled as I told him, "well, I need to enter the ballroom with someone, do I not? Dima is taking Olya --", "shameful lie, Katia", I thought -"so you are my single option."
"Poor Katia," he said laughing. "Very well."
This ball was the first to leave me entirely speechless. Then I realised why we rarely threw balls; mother had her strategy - she wanted to imprint in the minds of the people the image of the perfect ball, with flawless decoration and impecable serving, marvelous music and wonderful parties, so that they would remember it as a tool of comparison with other events.
When we stepped into the ballroom there were few faces that did not turn to us. There were four groups of people that I could distinguish.
The young ladies - the girls - they stared in turns at my brother and at myself for different reasons. Some saw in Leonti a good match and a great sight, while (do forgive my selfishness) some admired my looks; some, I assume, did not know who I was until their mothers - the old ladies - whispered in their ears, "his sister, Ekaterina Tvardovskaya". Then they would all breathe out with relief; relief that I was only his sister.
Furthermore, the old ladies saw in me a great match for their sons and respectively in Leonti for their daughters.
The old gentlemen saw in both of us the playful children that had once eaten all of their olives in their own sitting-rooms, while the young gentlemen - and here comes my favourite part - saw in my brother a rival, and in me an 'astonishing example of flawlessness.' (Seriously, I heard a voice in the crowd say that.)
Leonti took me to Olya, which was chatting with none other but Sergei Kuznetsov.
"How come you chose to favour us with your presence, Kuznetsov?", our brother asked, drawing Sergei attention from poor Olya. She looked at me with despair, and that could mean only one thing.
"We spoke of hunting, Katia! Hunting!", her eyes made me infer.
"And how do you do, princess?", prince Kuznetsov addressed me.
"Very well, thank you. Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Yes, a great deal, especially with such a charming companion as princess Olga!"
I broadened my smile and glanced at Olya. She suddenly brightened her countenance. The dancing began and many couples were formed. It was not long until count Gavrilov found me and asked of me the first dance; I immediately accepted and let myself sink in the revelry.
While dancing I looked around myself and saw Leonti dance with Maria Gavrilova, the eldest of the five sisters. This did not amaze me as much as seeing Olya not with Kuznetsov, but with a very good-looking but imposing young man, whose identity I was not sure of.
There were two more dances - I was 'kind enough' to accept the invitations of two of my distant cousins but was impatient to finish the jumping and the spinning around. The lights had begun to confuse me and was this close to collapsing down. It led me to an epiphany - I was not made for large crowds; I was a solitary creature.
When at last I got the chance to sit down and rest, Nina came by and asked me how I found the ball.
"Exhausting, dear Nina, simply exhausting!"
She sat down beside me and took my hand:
"Do not forget to smile, for everyone will like you better when you show to be enjoying yourself. Alas, we have a lot of dances ahead!"
"With whom have you been dancing so far?"
"Well, Dima, count Gavrilov and prince Kuznetsov. I do wonder, however, if Olya's partner shall ask me."
She pointed at our sister who was vividly conversing with that young gentleman.
"Who is he?", I asked her.
"I do not know, but I shall ask mother for you."
As she rose from her chair I stopped her with my hand, "no, you should not, I shall ask Olya herself when she is done chatting with him."
I felt strange - Olya had admired my beauty and looks, complained that I would steal all of her glow with my radiance; but she was the one talking to that man, not I; this thought upset me. I was soon joined by Sergei Kuznetsov who tried to mend the situation.
"Is anything the matter with you?", he asked with a hint of compassion.
I wished most ardently to advise him to go and keep Olya company, not me; it was her that needed his attention, not poor Katia, poor lonely Katia.
"Not at all, sir, thank you; I am currently resting."
"It seems that the dancing has affected your spirits; you were very joyous upon entering the ballroom."
"Yes, I do believe that too much exercise has had its impact upon me. Does it happen to you as well?"
He looked away - in Olya's direction, I thought - and replied:
"It is not from the dancing, I suppose; but when the most beautiful young woman my eyes have ever been given to see is engaged for every dance that I intend to ask her to, I cannot help but suffer from it."
"Oh, prince Kuznetsov, I am sure that my sister did not mean --"
I became quiet as I saw that his expression did not say my sister - still I continued:
"...I am sure that Olga did not mean to upset you. But," I added, "I would be more than pleased to take advantage of her being preoccupied with somebody else."
Sergei Kuznetsov smiled, beautifying tenfold his already handsome features. "Thank you, princess."
The dancing resumed and I could not help but feel every bit of my body in horrid ache. "By the end of the ball I will have had enough of dancing for the rest of the year!", I thought while prince Kuznetsov led me with incredible grace through the other couples. "Oh, wait, it is already July. Well, five months is quite a long period of time!", I pondered.
As I was being whirled around, I saw Olya dancing with count Gavrilov; as soon as I caught her eye, she threw me an unusual glance. It was happiness mixed with sorrow, I thought. "I shall ask her later."
The guests were leaving after some time - they were all very pleased with the event and wished to attend one again; I was looking forward to my warm pillow, out of those shoes and dress. But I had one more thing to settle.
"Olya, why did you look so sad when you were dancing?"
She smiled, but hers was a sad smile. "You were dancing with Sergei, Katia... why?"
I was very confused by this. "Well, he actually expressed the intention to ask you for each dance, but everytime he tried to, you were busy with someone else. I could not continue with 'oh, yes, Olya is always so, she does not keep her promises'." This lie almost brought me to tears.
"Oh, now I see... well, I guess I have to thank you... though I could see from the beginning of the ball that he finds no interest in my person... you know, when you and Leonti came, we were discussing the possibility of our coming to his father's estate for the hunting season!"
"So I was right," I said in a whisper. "Well, you must not despair. You have plenty of suitors. Especially that young man, who was he?"
She blushed as she whispered, as if nobody else would hear her, "that, my dear Katia, was prince Karminsky."
I woke up rather late the following morning, I missed breakfast, I missed the sunrise; "that is what happens when one stays up late chatting with Olya," I said, quickly getting ready to go downstairs.
In the sitting-room I found Olya and mother. Nina and father had gone for a walk in the park, and as for Dima and Leonti, nobody knew where they were to be found. As usual.
"How did you sleep, Katia?", mother enquired. "Most certainly that you were tired!"
"Did you see last evening how she danced? As if she had wings instead of feet!", remarked Olya.
"Quite funny, indeed," I replied. "I thought count Gavrilov would never let go of me!"
The morning passed quite pleasantly and around one o'clock a visitor was announced.
"Prince Viktor Andreevich Karminsky," the servant said.
I looked astonished at Olya, then at my mother, but both of them seemed at ease. I assumed they had been aquainted with him the previous night.
Prince Karminsky was indeed Olya's dance partner. He had somehow of an impetuous aura around him, yet seemed calm at the surface. He had perfect manners, a soothing voice and deep, black eyes.
"Prince Karminsky, what a pleasure to have you here!", mother started and, before she offered him a seat, he made the remainder of introductions.
"I believe you have not been acquainted with our dear Katia," she said.
"Indeed, I have not had the pleasure until now," he replied, piercing me with his eyes.
"What is the reason for your bestowing upon us the pleasure of your presence?", she continued. 
Was it just my fancy or did he gulp?
"I promised prince Vladimir to call on you, ma'am, the previous evening. May I compliment you once more on the astounding party?"
"Thank you, prince Karminsky, though it is my daughter, Olya, that has made the greatest of efforts. I assume you and Dima are good friends?"
He had been wandering with his eyes on every object in the room, not because he found our furnishings impressive, but rather because he did not want to meet mother's eye.
"Yes, we are."
"Well, then, I think someone should fetch him." Melodramatically looking around, as if she was searching for someone available - someone who did not have the wonderful prospect of marrying him, someone whose presence was not entirely essential, someone like me, for that matter - she said:
"Katia, why do you not go and get your brother?"
I immediately accepted, but did not go until I saw Karminsky's reaction at the word 'brother'. He seemed to silently choke in his words, could not keep his eyes on anything; "so he did not know", I thought to myself.
When I returned to the sitting-room, joined by Dima, I could notice that the conversation was mainly held by mother. Prince Karminsky had lost the momentum of the previous night; he was not speaking much, which made Olya doubt his intentions of proposing at all.
He greeted Dima with warm words and resumed to his seat near Olya. I had an excellent view upon them, and since I was not very useful to anybody, I could lay my eyes on them as much as I wanted.
Karminsky indeed was a friend of Dima's, but as he had never shared his acquaintance with us, we would not know. Even Leonti had been spared this knowledge.
Unfortunately, our guest could not stay too long. He used marvelous words to form an excuse, his eyes wandering back and forth on Olya and myself, ignoring our mother who had much hope in his coming again.
"Dima, how come you never told us about this friend of yours? Do you see his impact on Olya?"
"Well, mother, I did not know until now that he would prefer her! He told me once that his father wished him wedded to one of the Gavrilovs."
Olya adopted a sad look as she said, "and I suppose he shall honor his father's wishes, shall he not?"
Dima put a wide grin on, saying, "no, I believe he is too unconventional for that."
"But he seemed such a well-bred young man!", mother exclaimed.
"I believe he is, mother," I interfered, though I could clearly see that only Olya was allowed to make a remark about Karminsky. Still, I continued: "he would not have paid us the visit if he was not."
"Yes, quite so, Katia," Dima agreed, "I dare say he is too deep a person for social conventions. Most of the time."
"True, for our sweet Olya is an exception!", mother concluded.
Soon she left us, with Olya following her - perhaps intending to talk further about the matter - and I remained with Dima. Just as I was preparing to play a piece at the pianoforte, Dima said:
"Poor Olya. She does not know a thing about prince Karminsky but fancies herself his bride."
I snickered and replied, "why should she not?"
"You are about to see, he will not marry her."
He left me alone with my music.
"No, I am sure that he will propose."
And my prediction seemed to materialise, for prince Karminsky came by once more. Thus we learnt more particularities about himself.
He was the son of a very respectable gentleman, owner of six estates spread all across Russia, two near the outskirts of Petersburg; mother almost passed out after hearing that, imagining that her daughter, Olya, could be mistress of those places. He had an elder sister, Sophia, whom for the past twenty-seven years he had cherished more than anything, he was very fond of reading poetry; it seemed that he had no flaws in his manners and habits - at least so we thought.
It was only after Olya and mother had left the room that he began to speak in a more comfortable manner. There was just Dima and I left and I could sense a change in his conduct, as if till then he had refrained himself.
"Seriously, Karminsky, reading?!", Dima started.
I had gone to look out of the window, and since the room was very large, my presence was almost neglectable. Still, I could hear them.
"Well, what else could I say? Reading would have been an appropriate thing to say. The first thing I inferred about your sister when I saw her was that she was very fond of literature."
It startled me to hear that he could read Olya so easily. But I remained still, glad that I could eavesdrop on their conversation.
"She will kill you when she finds out that you do not care at all about poetry. You, Viktor Andreevich, to waste your time with reading!"
I heard their laughter and I began to wonder if they had really forgotten about me. However, my doubt soon vanished.
"Katia, what do you find so interesting outside? Come and sit with us!", my brother called.
As I approached them, I felt a sudden fear of our guest. I was afraid of his eyes and their ability to disarm me. "Leave already!", I wanted to cry.
I feared his voice only a little, for I knew that he would not talk whatsoever. We had Dima instead to find pleasant subjects for all of us. And by 'us', I mean the two of them.
"When the war has been declared, will you enroll?", he asked prince Karminsky.
"I cannot wait to get rid of the society, if I am to be honest. All of the silly cares of the people that I am so weary of!"
This statement made me quietly ponder on his character. I did not look at him with surprise, instead I remarked within myself that he indeed was very unconventional. And with a young lady present as well!
Dima also noticed that his words were entirely inappropriate for the circumstances, therefore widened his gaze on Karminsky. This made the latter add:
"I am truly sorry, princess, but I feel that your understanding exceeds common boundaries."
"Is that a compliment?", I asked myself. "How could I know?" I could only watch him as he once again pierced me with his black eyes.
"Thank you," I replied at last, almost in a whisper.
Dima turned his questioning look to myself, as if he were asking what on earth I was thanking Karminsky for. I replied with a look that said, "I have no clue."
Silence surrounded us and I felt remorse that such remarkable conversations would be given no chance to take place.
"What about you, Dima? Will you enroll?," I asked my brother.
He stared at me in confusion for a while, then added with a sort of pain in his voice:
"I do not mean to upset you, for you are my most beloved sister. Not only mine," he said as he lowered his voice, "I am sure that Leonti likes you best of all three sisters as well."
I looked at our guest - I could read confusion in his features - before saying:
"And what about my question? Are you going to enroll?"
Dima became more nervous as he replied, "I do not mean to hurt you, but yes, I do want to leave."
If it had not been for prince Karminsky, I am sure that Dima would have said laughingly, "no, by no means," yet, as we had received an excellent example of bravery and independence from our guest's part, my brother had no other choice but admit their being alike in their decisions.
"But do not tell anyone, Katia," he added.
"I know better than that."
I was about to bring music up when mother stormed into the drawing-room, accompanied by Olya. They sat down and the conversation took a more feminine direction.
"I gather that you are fond of poetry, prince Karminsky?"
"Very much, madam," he replied with a charming smile; he had returned to a somewhat refrained manner, yet it was so subtle that it was several minutes until I noticed. I was sure that Dima had took notice from the very first moment.
"I must assure you that we have a very large library, and our dear Olya would be more than glad to show it to you. There are certainly very few private libraries in Moscow that host more books than ours does."
I could not stop watching Karminsky as he most politely thanked her, showing no signs of hiding his true self. "I wonder if he is ever discovered lying. Or if he ever tells the truth!," I thought.
And then I turned my eyes to Olya; she was more than exhilarated by the thought that she had finally found someone with other inclinations than shooting. I was sorry for her, God knows that I was, but I could not help amusing myself by the mere thought that she was thus deceived.
It was only then that I noticed: Karminsky's eyes were no longer black, but rather hazel. But I supposed it was only my fancy that assumed that his eyes changed colour whenever he told lies. "Silly me."
"He loves me!", exclaimed Olya before going to bed, after two more visits of his. "He truly does!"
It almost brought me to tears to think that my lovely sister had been lied to in that manner. I tried to mend her affection with these words:
"But do you truly love him back, Olya?"
She looked at me with incredibility:
"Why, who would not love a man that enjoys reading poetry? Really, he is one of a kind!"
"Oh, Lord, help me!", I cried within myself. "And what about Sergei?", I enquired.
"He is so boring, Katia! He bores me like none other; all those invitations to his domains, all that nonsense about hunting! Whereas prince Karminsky is much more deep, after all, he reads poetry!"
Oh, how I wished to be able to tell her the truth about her dear Karminsky! To reveal his true personality would have been so shameful of me, yet a salvation to Olya! Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind.
"But have you asked him so far about his favourite poets?"
She changed colour as she replied, "no, I have not... but I assume his are the same as mine! I must be dreaming, dear Katia!", she said, beginning to dance in our bedroom as if she was dancing with him at the ball. "Yes, this is my sole chance - he is my sole chance!"
Then, returning to bed, she said, "tomorrow, should he come, I will show him the library."
But he did not show up. I watched Olya as she stepped back and forth in the drawing-room, always looking out of the window in expectance. "Where is he?", she asked, rather herself than anyone else. "He is usually here at this hour!"
And when Dima finally came in, she asked once again.
"Do not despair, he is gone to Petersburg."
"Why?", she whispered, but Dima did not hear. He sat down on a seat beside me and whispered, "his father is ill."
"How ill?", I replied in a low voice.
"I cannot say, he mentioned nothing about the gravity of the illness."
I thought a little and then said, still whispering: "it is most certainly a serious matter, he would not leave Olya for a trifle."
Dima grinned and added: "I doubt that, I truly do."
If I had been in Olya's shoes, never would I have complained the way she did. It was a matter of life and death to her, for when she heard from Dima that Karminsky would be absent for two whole months, her faith in him shrank considerably. She would not hear; she would not bear the thought.
We could not discuss the matter openly, although we tried once.
We were all gathered in the drawing-room, aparently none of us in so horrid a state as Olya, when father brought the subject up:
"Do you have any news on the state of your friend's father, Dima?"
This was the occasion on which Olya found about Karminsky's lengthened absence from Moscow.
"I actually do, father; he wrote me this very morning. His father's condition is much better, yet some affairs still keep him in St. Petersburg. He estimated that he should be gone for two months."
The general attention was drawn to Olya, who just could not refrain from bursting into tears.
"Two months? Why?", she cried, "why?"
And she quit the room, leading us to the unanimous decision to never talk about the matter in her presence again.
There was no restraint for Dima not to tell me when alone the real reasons for Karminsky's long stay in Petersburg.
"Rumor has it that the war is approaching. They say that by the middle of September peace will be a notion craved for."
"And is there any connection between his remaining there and this news?"
Dima looked away, most certainly considering whether he should reveal the truth to me, at last replying:
"Yes, his father is making efforts to obtain him a post by Kutuzov."
Oh, that was not so terrible a secret to keep. At least I was sure that he was not avoiding Olya!
"Do not tell her, he demanded that he take care of the matter."
Alas, I had the task of watching my sister day and night as she made promises over promises that Karminsky would never have her forgiveness and that she would never trust him again.
"Why do you speak so of him? It is not like he has broken a vow or forgotten about you entirely. Besides, he apologised in the letter."
"You cannot know, Katia! You simply do not know. I am starting to believe that I do not know either... And all the poems," she then added, covering her face with her hands, "all the poems that I wrote for him!"
I wished to tell her that her efforts had not been in vain, that he would return, that her struggles would be repaid - she would not hear. And when I tried to ease her distress, she left the room in tears.
If there had not been changes in the conduct of everyone, I would have been able to foresee Olya's next move. However, she was not the joyful sister I had become used to. Her inclinations were altered; she spent more and more time outside, even during the rainy days. I could tell very well that her reasoning was in deep mortification.
It was only on the first day of September that I realised she had changed once more. In the drawing-room there was nobody but her and myself. She put her novel aside and took a seat nearer to mine, whispering, "Katia, I am in love."
My thoughts had swum around a completely different matter before hearing her; I had been thinking of a way to get new piano scores - and thus I had little time to create a proper reply in my head, therefore I chose to be ironic.
"So Karminsky is back in town, I gather!"
Then I realised that the subject was too delicate for Olya; but, to my utter surprise, she began to laugh. "Why, no, I am no longer prosecuted by him!"
I raised my eyes from my work and stared at her in amazement. "Olya, for Heaven's sake, tell me already!"
She put on a bright smile and said, "well, I am sitting by myself and so suddenly Leonti tells me that Sergei  shall call on us tomorrow."
The intelligence of her being again under the charm of prince Kuznetsov brought relief to my nerves and put an end to my distress. It was yet to see, I thought, what would become of prince Karminsky. If his intentions had been honest (and most certainly they were), the current state of my sister would affect him most negatively and perhaps end his intimacy with us. Yet I could not bear the thought - such exquisite company to leave us! It was then, oh, bless the day!, that I realised that no other company but his had made my days brighter. Short though his visits had been, full of compliments to Olya though his attentions had been, but those eyes that changed colour whenever their master chose to tell truthful statements, and those rigid remarks and distant opinions that he had let me hear! I could not feel but compassion and fear; compassion that he had been made to hide himself behind courtesy and fear that he would no longer bestow upon us an equivalent of the prior attending.
"I fear, Olya...", I began, urged to let my sister know of my sentiments, but my voice was so low that I gave up.
She tried to capture my words despite her evident lack of understanding for others, she was sunk in her own joy, I did not blame her for that though. Eventually, she said whispering: "What do you fear?"
An answer was not to be given, I decided. Yet I reconciled in this: "I fear him."
Immediately though I reckoned that Olya had not been present in my head and was not able whatsoever to recreate the progression of my thoughts. My words must have sounded odd in the least! For why should I hate Sergei Kuznetsov?
"Whom do you fear? What is there to fear at him?"
I stared my sister in the eye; feeling with every bit of me that my complexion was changing, reddening with every moment past, I said: "You are mistaken, I do not fear him."
I left her and found shelter in my room.
Two days had passed when an unexpected guest was announced. Judging by the sound of hooves that preceded his entrance, I gathered the courage to guess it was prince Kuznetsov. But upon hearing, as on the first day, that prince Viktor Andreevich Karminsky had come, my heart pounded as mad! I could not but look with desperate eyes at my mother, the only being in the room, but her eyes were set upon the visitor. He was unaltered, unsurprisingly though, and little were my distress and nervousness when I saw him immediately engaged in a conversation with her. He told us that his father's health had been restored at a quickened pace after his arrival, but he insisted that his son lengthen his stay. After mother had satisfied her thirst of information, she rised all of a sudden (startling me, for my nerves were in so tense a condition!) and, with very affectionate tone and conduct, remarked: "I have not seen Olya, I am sure she shall be so pleased to acknowledge your coming!" And so she left us to deal with each other.
I was at first decided to play the timid girl and avoid any conversation at all. But I caught his eyes - hazel again. This determined me to begin, barely blinking, trying to keep my eyes on his:
"Do not be alarmed if she never comes. Her attentions have been diverted from you."
His face was somehow lit when my words came out. He replied, "There is nothing to alarm me, but plenty to please me. I should give no credit to my education if I said what really bothers me at present."
I rested my head onto my hand, starting to feel nervous. "Then I should not like to hear it; I hold too dear your well-breeding as to not be disappointed by proof of your being otherwise."
"What am I saying?!", I was thinking. But the damage had been done.
"There is nothing in Olya that resembles you, and this I find just now."
"What are your intentions, prince Karminsky?"
My voice had become too deep and suspicious; I knew I had to oppress my words. But his eyes were turning amber even, with every second. It was as if he was glad to have the conversation.
"I have none," he finally replied. "But...", he then added, after a considerable pause, yet it was not to be. Mother stormed into the room, carrying Olya by her arm; only for a moment did I look at my sister. My eyes were drawn once again on Karminsky. One word: black.
Olya was not so keen to enquire and receive answers. I had a great deal of understanding for that, but I was most willing to know the prince's thoughts. Once Olya had remained out of common subjects, mother interfered. She seemed to be such a bore, I recall. I no longer sat quietly in my seat and rose, heading towards the window. Seeing that there was no wind blowing, no impossible temperature to keep me inside, I waited patiently till mother ended her speech about Olya's inclination towards poetry (as if the matter had not been settled long before!), I resolved on demanding a walk. As mother had been complaining of a sore throat, oddly enough, I imagined, she refused to come. However, she had not been in my mind when I asked. Neither was Olya, for that matter, but one cannot take advantage of everything at once.
It was a somehow divine intervention that forced my sister to refuse. Great were my expectations then, still greater was my contentment when the prince accepted.
"Do take your warmer shawl, Katia!", mother threw at me before we quit the room, clearly surprised that it was not Olya, but me, who was going for a walk with him.
I did not make attempts to revive the conversation; it was clear that the matter was past by then. But the silence that surrounded us almost instantly brought me back to my relentless curiousity.
"A few moments ago, pray forgive me, you were speaking of certain propensities of yours."
We had begun at a brisk pace, yet as soon as I brought up the subject he proceeded no further. He turned to me - was it only my impression? I doubt; he had approached me! - and he said, pausing every so often:
"You have commited no mistake; you have nothing to be forgiven. Indeed, I rather admire this quality of yours. It is not common that one meets such an intense temper, yet with so little on display."
He did avoid my question, I gathered; and then I feigned to play this almost challenging charade, only to catch the moment when his eyes would become once again black. For then I would know that he did have no intentions.
"So little on display?", I enquiried with a frown. His hazel eyes gave me to comprehend his thoughts. He knew that I needed no explanation, and so I found one myself. "Prince Karminsky, I am so overwhelmed by your ability to see through one's eyes!"
He revealed a most innocent smile - I immediately imagined him as a child - and he continued, resuming his walk, determining me to move as well:
"Ask your sister, princess; she must know more. One's efforts are fruitless most of the time, except for one situation. When such a magnificent but rare book is unlocked before one, there is temptation of most surreal dimensions; one has no power - at least not during the first moments - one is drawn to the pages; reads every line carefully, for fear the book should close too soon."
These words left me more than speechless. I could not find proper words, an appropriate answer, for I was unable to see the true shape of what he had said. Was it a compliment? I truly feared it. Was it a complaint? It must have been! I opened my mouth to say something, anything, for that matter, but he added:
"You have bestowed upon me so unique a privilege." His voice broke.
"What sort of privilege?", I humbly asked, aware that he was no longer disposed to answer.
He turned his head and I pressed him no more. "Should he want to speak up, I shall be waiting," was my concluding thought.
He had given away too much information, naturally, therefore I imagined there was too much willingness to reveal everything, since he chose to say, in a sincere voice:
"I have my inclinations, princess; do not trust my every word."
He seemed to favour this address; alas, my stoutness was gone. I only wished that he would let me know what placed him in so fervent, still so shady a disposition.
Hardly had I begun to will to be anywhere else, when he exclaimed, laughingly even:
"My father urged me to seek, among thousands, a suitable young lady. I could not bear to think about it. I disobliged his wish immediately. But do you know, princess, what his parting word was? That he would proceed so as to leave me without a position. What do you say about this whole affair?"
I thought for only a little, immediately making my opinion known:
"I would like to think that one must follow one's heart."
He calmly smiled, "and when one has an inactive heart, how should one proceed?"
He most probably fancied me disarmed, with no answer prepared. Oh, but those sickening cold mornings spent before the pianoforte, trying to provide meaning to each of my questions! I had never imagined that our enquiries could be so alike.
"One must - " I quickly replied, in a most serious voice, "one must follow one's mind."
He obviously remained quite at a loss, never caring even to hide the fact. He was from then on somehow distracted with his questions:
"Do you like reading, princess?"
"Philosophy only." I stressed the words in hope to find a change in his complexion. There was plenty. I had hoped, however, that he would repeat, "philosophy, indeed!" and add a compliment to my wit. Despite my insolent trust, he said nothing. Oh, how I wished to reveal the cause for my not speaking in so elaborate terms as to make this discovery pretty useless! But it was not to be, sadly. I felt so open-hearted, as if our acquaintance had been long enough as to permit it!
Other enquiries he made; but it was clear to me that he would never return to the previous profound subject that I was so thrilled to develop. Therefore, I entreated him to deal with my one-syllable answers. Instead of giving away my soul in whole, I only responded with short words; if I had indeed given him the privilege he had been so cautious to explain, he would have it no more at my rightful wish. This was my revenge for that day.
We returned inside after my quiet observation that there were violent clouds on the way; there were only mother and Dima in the room. Olya was joined by Leonti to the Gavrilovs.
Prince Karminsky headed towards my brother, leaving me in a state that mother could not mend. I sensed there was a grade of hostility towards my actions, that she agreed not my conduct. I knew very well that she liked Olya better - at least in the situation we were in. Therefore, as I was the elder sister, she made no efforts to refrain from saying:
"My Katia, why are you so mean to your sister? She has never asked anything of you!"
We were evidently sitting at a distance from the two, but the disposition of the seats was very strange - that is, I could not say whether a bless or a curse. The people that were sitting with their faces to me were mother and Karminsky. He was fairly conversing with my brother, though I could see that his attention was parted between him and myself. And so was mine. As I was listening to my mother's arguments, I both felt his eyes on me and began to think differently than before. Hitherto I had had a very peculiar emotion; it was both obliging and dishonorable that I could receive his attention. I knew Olya had had her ambition regarding him, but there was none left. Still, mother chose to disregard her sore throat and almost shouted in the room "how dear she held Olya's sentiments and how stubborn I was to take advantage of her poor state of nerves!" Dima and Karminsky most certainly heard every word; still, their manners made them abstain even a smile towards mother's direction. There was no doubt that they were not to be noticed at all, but it was me that was at risk to burst into laughter! For Olya's heart was half past full with Sergei Kuznetsov, little did she care at the time for our guest.
Still, I could not say a word; mother's inexplicable vexation took over my head.
"Do admit at least that you have done your sister wrong!", she continued her endless scold.
With the first claps of thunder, the prince rised and took his leave. In spite of her uneasy disposition, mother was able to part on friendly terms with him. I, too, feigned to look forward to our next meeting, having no clue about what would come.

Clouds

I'll take the pages when I leave
With the hope that you won't mind.
But if I see you ever cross ways with me
Only to ask where they are,
I'll reply with tears, for I'll have read
Every word that you promised you meant.
And if I ever forget a single blank line
Only to think that you laid your heart there,
I'll embrace your gaze with thunderstorms
And try to absolve your very guilt
For every righteous knight needs time
To commence a thought to tell.
But while you listen carelessly
To my silliness of concern
I'll embrace the way I came
Turn away and hear you sigh.
And I will not try to chain you to myself
For I know how unjust I would be then
But if I ever hear you ask,
I shall say I don't wish to care.