# Virgin Soil (Garnett)/Volume 2/Chapter 5

XXV
Marianna had pictured Solomin to herself as utterly different, before his visit. At first sight he had struck her as somehow undefined, lacking in individuality.. . . She had seen plenty of fair-haired, sinewy, thin men like that, she told herself! But the more she watched him, the more she listened to what he said, the stronger grew her feeling of confidence in him—confidence was just what it was.
​A truthful man . . . that was the great thing! that was what touched her. It is a well-known fact, though by no means easy to understand, that Russians are the greatest liars on the face of the earth, and yet there is nothing they respect like truth—nothing attracts them so much. Besides, Solomin was of a quite especial stamp, in Marianna's eyes; on him rested the halo of a man recommended by Vassily Nikolaevitch himself to his followers. During dinner Marianna had several times exchanged glances with Nezhdanov in reference to him, and in the end she suddenly caught herself in an involuntary comparison of the two men, and not to Nezhdanov's advantage. Nezhdanov's features were undoubtedly far handsomer and more pleasing than Solomin's; but his face expressed a medley of distracting emotions; vexation, embarrassment, impatience . . . even despondency; he seemed sitting on thorns, tried to speak, and broke off, laughing nervously.. . . Solomin, on the other hand, produced the impression of being, very likely, a little bored, but, any way, quite at home; and of being, in what he did or felt, at all times utterly independent of what other people might do or feel. 'Decidedly, we must ask advice of this man,' was Marianna's thought; 'he will be sure to ​give us some good advice.' It was she who had sent Nezhdanov to him after dinner.
The evening passed rather drearily; luckily dinner was not over till late, and there was not much time to get through before night. Kallomyetsev was politely sulky and said nothing.
'What's the matter?' Madame Sipyagin asked him half-jeeringly. 'Have you lost something?'
'That's just it,' answered Kallomyetsev. 'They tell a story of one of our commanders of the guards that he used to complain that his soldiers had lost their socks. "Find me that sock!" And I say, find me the word "sir"! That word "sir" has gone astray, and all proper respect and reverence for rank have gone with it!'
Madame Sipyagin declared to Kallomyetsev that she was not prepared to assist him in his quest of it.
Emboldened by the success of his 'speech' at dinner, Sipyagin delivered a couple of other harangues, letting drop as he did so a few statesmanlike reflections on indispensable measures; he dropped also a few sayings—des mots—more weighty than witty, he had specially prepared for Petersburg. One of these sayings he even said over twice, ​prefixing the phrases, 'if I may be permitted so to express myself.' It was a criticism of one of the ministers of the day, of whom he said that he had a fickle and frivolous intellect, bent on visionary aims. On the other hand Sipyagin, not forgetting that he had to deal with a Russian—one of the people—did not fail to knock off a few sayings, intended to prove that he was himself, not merely Russian in blood, but a real Russian bear, every inch of him, and in close touch with the very inmost essence of the national life! Thus, for example, upon Kallomyetsev observing that the rain might delay getting in the hay, he promptly rejoined, 'Let the hay be black, for then the buckwheat'll be white'; he used proverbial terms such as, 'A store masterless is a child fatherless'; 'Try on ten times, for once you cut out'; 'Where there is corn, you can always find a bushel'; 'If the leaves on the birch are big as farthings by St. Yegor's day, there'll be corn in the barn by the feast of Our Lady of Kazan.' It must be admitted that he sometimes got them wrong, and would say, for instance, 'Let the carpenter stick to his last!' or 'Fine houses make full bellies!' But the society in which these mishaps befell did not for the most part even suspect that 'notre bon Russe' had blundered; and ​indeed, thanks to Prince Kovrizhkin, it is pretty well inured to such Russian malapropisms. And all these saws and sayings Sipyagin would enunciate in a peculiar hale and hearty, almost thick, voice, 'd'une voix rustique.' Such idioms, dropped in due place and season at Petersburg, set influential ladies of the highest position exclaiming, 'Comme il connaît bien les mœurs de notre peuple!' While equally influential dignitaries of equally high position would add, 'Les mœurs et les besoins!'
Valentina Mihalovna did her very best with Solomin; but the obvious failure of her efforts disheartened her; and as she passed Kallomyetsev she could not resist mumuring in an undertone, 'Mon Dieu, que je me sens fatiguée!'
To which the latter responded, with an ironical bow, 'Tu l'as voulu, Georges Dandin!'
At last, after the usual flicker-up of politeness and affability, displayed on all the faces of a bored assembly at the moment of breaking up, after abrupt handshaking, smiles and amiable simpers, the weary guests and weary hosts separated.
Solomin, who was conducted to almost the best bedchamber on the second floor, with English toilet accessories and a bathroom attached, made his way to Nezhdanov.
​The latter began by thanking him warmly for consenting to stay the night.
'I know . . . it's a sacrifice for you.. . .'
'0h, nonsense!' Solomin responded in his deliberate tones; 'much of a sacrifice! Besides, I can't say no to you.'
'Why so?'
'Oh, because I like you.'
Nezhdanov was delighted and astounded, while Solomin pressed his hand. Then he seated himself astride on a chair, lighted a cigar, and, with both elbows on the chair-back, he observed, 'Come, tell me what's the matter.'
Nezhdanov, too, seated himself astride on a chair facing Solomin, but he did not light a cigar.
'What's the matter, you ask? . . . The matter is that I want to run away from here.'
'That is, you want to leave this house? Well, what of it? Good luck to you!'
'Not to leave . . . but to run away.'
'Why? do they detain you? You . . . perhaps you've received some salary in advance? If so, you need only say the word. . . . I should be delighted.'
'You don't understand me, my dear Solomin. . . . I said, run away—not leave—because I'm not going away from here alone.'
Solomin raised his head.
​'With whom?'
'With that girl you saw here to-day. . .'
'That girl! She has a nice face. You love one another, eh? . . . Or is it simply, you have made up your minds to go away together from a house where you are both unhappy?'
'We love one another.'
'Ah!' Solomin was silent for a while. 'Is she a relation of the people here?'
'Yes. But she fully shares our convictions, and is ready to go forward.'
Solomin smiled.
'And are you ready, Nezhdanov?'
Nezhdanov frowned slightly.
'Why that question? I will prove my readiness in action.'
'I have no doubts of you, Nezhdanov. I only asked because I imagine there is no one ready besides you.'
'What of Markelov?'
'Yes, to be sure, there is Markelov; but he, I expect, was born ready.'
At that instant some one gave a light, rapid tap at the door, and, without waiting for an answer, opened it. It was Marianna. She went up at once to Solomin.
'I am sure,' she began, 'you will not be surprised at seeing me here at such an hour. . . . He' (Marianna indicated Nezhdanov) 'has ​told you everything, of course. Give me your hand, and, believe me, it is an honest girl standing before you.'
'Yes, I know that,' Solomin responded seriously. He had risen from his seat directly Marianna appeared. 'I was looking at you at dinner-time and thinking, "What honest eyes that young lady has!" Nezhdanov has been telling me, certainly, of your plan. But why do you mean to run away, exactly?'
'Why? The cause I have at heart . . . don't be surprised; Nezhdanov has kept nothing from me . . . that work is bound to begin in a few days . . . and am I to remain in this aristocratic house, where everything is deceit and lying? People I love will be exposed to danger, and am I———'
Solomin stopped her by a motion of his hand.
'Don't upset yourself. Sit down, and I'll sit down. You sit down, too, Nezhdanov. Let me tell you, if you have no other reason, then there's no need for you to run away from here as yet. That work isn't going to begin as soon as you suppose. A little more prudent consideration is needed in that matter. It's no good blundering forward at random. Believe me.'
Marianna sat down and wrapped herself up ​in a big plaid, which she flung over her shoulders.
'But I can't stay here any longer. I'm insulted by every one here. Only to-day that imbecile, Anna Zaharovna, said before Kolya, alluding to my father, that the apple never falls far from the apple-tree. Kolya even was surprised, and asked what that meant. Not to speak of Valentina Mihalovna!'
Solomin stopped her again, and this time with a smile. Marianna realised that he was laughing at her a little, but his smile could never have offended any one.
'What do you mean, dear lady? I don't know who that Anna Zaharovna may be, nor what apple-tree you are talking about . . . but come, now; some fool of a woman says something foolish to you, and can't you put up with it? How are you going to get through life? The whole world rests on fools. No, that's not a reason. Is there anything else?'
'I am convinced,' Nezhdanov interposed in a deep voice, 'that Mr. Sipyagin will turn me out of the house of himself in a day or two. He has certainly been told tales. He treats me . . . in the most contemptuous fashion.'
Solomin turned to Nezhdanov.
'Then what would you run away for, if you'll be turned away in any case?'
​Nezhdanov did not at once find a reply.
'I was telling you before———' he began.
'He used that expression,' put in Marianna, 'because I am going with him.'
Solomin looked at her, and shook his head good-humouredly.
'Yes, yes, my dear young lady; but I tell you again, if you are meaning to leave this house just because you suppose the revolution is going to break out directly———'
'That's what we wrote for you to come for, Marianna interrupted, 'to find out for certain what position things are in.'
'In that case,' pursued Solomin, 'I repeat, you can stop at home—a good bit longer. If you mean to run away because you love each other and you can't be united otherwise, then———'
'Well, what then?'
'Then it only remains for me to wish you, as the old-fashioned saying is, love and good counsel, and, if need be and can be, to give you any help in my power. Because, my dear young lady, you, and him too, I've loved from first sight as if you were my own brother and sister.'
Marianna and Nezhdanov both went up to him on the right and the left, and each clasped one of his hands.
'Only tell us what to do,' said Marianna. ​'Supposing the revolution is still far off . . . there are preparatory steps to be taken, work to be done, impossible in this house, in these surroundings, to which we should go so eagerly together . . . you point them out to us, you only tell us where we are to go. . . . Send us! You will send us, won't you?'
'Where?'
'To the peasants.. . . Where should we go, if not to the people?'
'Into the forest,' thought Nezhdanov.. . . Paklin's saying recurred to his mind. Solomin looked intently at Marianna.
'You want to get to know the people?'
'Yes; that is, we don't only want to get to know the people, but to influence . . . to work for them.'
'Very good; I promise you, you shall get to know them. I will give you a chance of influencing them and working for them. And you, Nezhdanov, are ready to go . . . for her . . . and for them?'
'Of course I am ready,' he declared hurriedly. 'Juggernaut,' another saying of Paklin's, recurred to him; 'here it comes rolling along, the huge chariot . . . and I hear the crash and rumble of its wheels.. . .'
'Very good,' Solomin repeated thoughtfully. 'But when do you intend to run away?'
​'Why not to-morrow?' cried Marianna.
'Very good—but where?'
'Sh . . . gently . . .' whispered Nezhdanov. 'Some one is coming along the corridor.'
They were all silent for a space.
'Where do you intend to go?' Solomin asked again, dropping his voice.
'We don't know,' answered Marianna.
Solomin turned his eyes upon Nezhdanov. The latter merely shook his head negatively.
Solomin stretched out his hand and carefully snuffed the candle.
'I tell you what, my children,' he said at last, 'come to my factory. It's nasty there . . . but very safe. I will hide you. I have a little room there. No one will find you out. You need only get there . . . and we won't give you up. You will say, "There are a lot of people at the factory." That's a very good thing. Where there are a lot of people it's easy to hide. Will that do, eh?'
'We can only thank you,' said Nezhdanov; while Marianna, who had at first been taken aback by the idea of the factory, added quickly: 'Of course, of course. How good you are! But you won't leave us there long, I suppose? You will send us on?'
'That will depend on you.. . . But in case you meant to get married, it would be very ​convenient for you at the factory. Close by I've a neighbour there—he's a cousin of mine—a parish priest, by name Zosim, very amenable. He would marry you with all the pleasure in life.'
Marianna smiled to herself, while Nezhdanov once more pressed Solomin's hand, and after a moment's pause inquired, 'But, I say, won't your employer, the owner of the factory, have anything to say about it? Won't he make it unpleasant for you?'
Solomin looked askance at Nezhdanov.
'Don't worry about me.. . . That's quite a waste of time. As long as the factory goes all right, it's all one to my employer. Neither you nor your dear young lady have any unpleasantness to fear from him. And the workmen will be no danger to you. Only let me know beforehand. About what time am I to expect you?'
Nezhdanov and Marianna looked at one another.
'The day after to-morrow, early in the morning, or the day after that,' Nezhdanov said at last. 'We can't put it off any longer. It's as likely as not they'll turn me out of the house to-morrow.'
'All right . . .' assented Solomin, and he got up from his chair. 'I will look out for you ​every morning. And, indeed, I shan't be away from home all the week. Every step shall be taken in due course.'
Marianna drew near him (she was on her way to the door). 'Good-bye, dear, kind Vassily Fedotitch . . . that is your name, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Good-bye . . . at least, till we meet, and thanks—thank you!'
'Good-bye.. . . Good night, dear child.'
'And good-bye, Nezhdanov, till to-morrow . . .' she added.
Marianna went out quickly.
Both the young men remained for some time without moving, and both were silent.
'Nezhdanov . . .' Solomin began at last, and he broke off. 'Nezhdanov,' he began again, 'tell me about this girl . . . what you can tell me. What has her life been up till now?. . . Who is she?{{...} and how does she come to be here?'
Nezhdanov told Solomin briefly what he knew.
'Nezhdanov,' he began again at last . . . 'you ought to take care of that girl; for . . . if anything . . . were to happen . . . you would be very much to blame. Good-bye.'
He went away, and Nezhdanov stood still ​for a while in the middle of the room; then muttering, 'Ah! it's better not to think,' he flung himself face downwards on the bed.
When Marianna got back to her room, she found on the table a small note, which ran as follows: 'I am sorry for you. You are going to your ruin. Think what you are doing. Into what abyss are you flinging yourself with your eyes shut?—for whom, and for what?—V.'
There was a peculiar delicate fresh scent in the room; it was clear that Valentina Mihalovna had only just gone out of it. Marianna took a pen, and, writing underneath, 'Don't pity me. God knows which of us two is most in need of pity. I only know I would not be in your place.—M.,' she left the note on the table. She had no doubt that her answer would fall into Valentina Mihalovna's hands.
The next morning Solomin, after seeing Nezhdanov, and absolutely declining to undertake the management of Sipyagin's factory, set off homewards. He mused all the way home, a thing which very seldom occurred with him; the motion of the carriage usually lulled him into a light sleep. He thought of Marianna and also of Nezhdanov. He fancied that if he had been in love, he—Solomin—he would have had quite a different face, that he ​would have talked and looked quite differently. 'But,' he reflected,'since that has never happened to me, I can't tell, of course, what I should look like if it did.' He remembered an Irish girl whom he had once seen in a shop behind the counter; he remembered what wonderful, almost black, hair she had, her blue eyes and thick lashes, and how she had looked sadly and wistfully at him, and how long afterwards he had walked up and down the street before her windows, how excited he had been, and how he had kept asking himself, should he make her acquaintance or not? He was then staying in London. His employer had sent him there with a sum of money to make purchases for him. Solomin had been on the point of stopping on in London, of sending the money back to his employer, so strong was the impression made on him by the lovely Polly.. . . (He had found out her name; one of the other shopgirls had addressed her by it.) He had mastered himself, however, and went back to his employer. Polly had been far more beautiful than Marianna, but this girl had the same sad, wistful look in her eyes . . . and she was a Russian. . . .
'But what am I thinking about?' said Solomin, half aloud, 'bothering my head about other men's sweethearts!' and he gave a shake to the ​collar of his coat as though wishing to shake off all unnecessary ideas; and just then he drove up to the factory and caught a glimpse of the figure of the faithful Pavel in the doorway of his little lodge.