Natasha listened, cried, and squeezed my hand tight by stealth under the table. The reading was over. She got up, her cheeks were flushed, tears stood in her eyes. All at once she snatched my hand, kissed it, and ran out of the room. The father and mother looked at one another.
Hm ! what an enthusiastic creature she is, said the old man, struck by his daughters behaviour. Thats nothing though, nothing, its a good thing, a generous impulse! Shes a good girl. . . . he muttered, looking askance at his wife as though to justify Natasha and at the same time wanting to defend me too.
But though Anna Andreyevna had been rather agitated and touched during the reading, she looked now as though she would say: Of course Alexander of Macedon was a hero, but why break the furniture? etc.
Natasha soon came back, gay and happy, and coming over to me gave me a sly pinch. The old man attempted to play the stern critic of my novel again, but in his joy he was carried away and could not keep up the part.
Well, Vanya, my boy, its good, its good! Youve comforted me, relieved my mind more than I expected. Its not elevated, its not great, thats evident. . . . Over there there lies the Liberation of Moscow, it was written in Moscow, you know. Well, you can see in that from the first line, my boy, that the author, so to speak, soars like an eagle. But, do you know, Vanya, yours is somehow simpler, easier to understand. Thats why I like it, because its easier to understand. Its more akin to us as it were; its as though it had all happened to me myself. And whats the use of the high-flown stuff? I shouldnt have understood it myself. I should have improved the language. Im praising it, but say what you will, its not very refined. But there, its too late now, its printed, unless perhaps theres a second edition? But I say, my boy, maybe it will go into a second edition I Then therell be money again I Hm!
And can you really have got so much money for it, Ivan Petrovitch? observed Anna Andreyevna. I look at you and somehow cant believe it. Mercy on us, what people will give money for nowadays!
You know, Vanya, said
the old man, more and more carried away by enthusiasm, its a career, though its not the service. Even the highest in the land will read it. Here you tell me Gogol receives a yearly allowance and was sent abroad. What if it were the same with you, eh? Or is it too soon? Must you write something more? Then write it, my boy, write it as quick as possible. Dont rest on your laurels. What hinders you?
And he said this with such an air of conviction, with such good nature that I could not pluck up resolution to stop him and throw cold water on his fancies.
Or they may be giving you a snuff-box directly, maynt they? Why not? They want to encourage you. And who knows, maybe youll be presented at court, he added in a half whisper, screwing up his left eye with a significant air or not ? Is it too soon for the court?
The court, indeed! said Anna Andreyevna with an offended air.
In another minute youll be making me a general, I answered, laughing heartily.
The old man laughed too. He was exceedingly pleased.
Your excellency, wont you have something to eat? cried Natasha playfully. she had meantime been getting supper for us.
She laughed, ran to her father and flung her warm arms round him.
Dear, kind daddy!
The old man was moved,
Well, well, thats all right! I speak in the simplicity of my heart. General or no general, come to supper. Ah, you sentimental girl! he added, patting his Natasha on her flushed cheek, as he was fond of doing on every convenient occasion. I spoke because I love you, Vanya, you know. But even if not a general (far from it!) youre a distinguished man, an author.
Nowadays, daddy, they call them writers.
Not authors? I didnt know. Well, let it be writers then, but I tell you what I wanted to say: people are not made kammerherrs, of course, because they write novels; its no use to dream of that; but anyway you can make your mark; become, an attache of some sort. They may send you abroad, to Italy, for the sake of your health, or somewhere to perfect yourself in, your studies; youll be helped with money. Of course it must all be honourable on your side; you must get money and honour by work, by real good work, and not through patronage of one sort or another.
And dont you be too proud then, Ivan Petrovich, added Anna Andreyevna, laughing.
Youd better give him a star, at once, daddy; after all, whats the good of an attache?
And she pinched my arm again.
This girl keeps making fun of me, said the old man, looking delightedly at Natasha, whose cheeks were glowing and whose eyes were shining like stars. I think I really may have overshot the mark, children; but Ive always been like that... But do you know, Vanya, I keep wondering at you: how perfectly simple you are. . .
Why, good heavens, daddy, what else could he be?
Oh, no. I didnt mean that. Only, Vanya, youve a face thats not what one would call a poets. Theyre pale, they say, you know, the poets, and with hair like this, you know, and a look in their eyes ... like Goethe, you know, and the rest of them, Ive read that in Abaddon ... well? Have I put my foot in it again? Ah, the rogue, shes giggling at me! Im not a scholar, my dears, but I can feel. Well, face or no face, thats no great matter, yours is all right for me, and I like it very much. I didnt mean that. . . . Only be honest, Vanya, be honest. Thats the great thing, live honestly, dont be conceited! The road lies open before you. Serve your work honestly, thats what I meant to say; yes, thats just what I wanted to say!