Oblomov / Обломов. Книга для чтения на английском языке

This Alexeyev, Andreyev, Vassilyev, or whatever his name is, seems to be a sort of incomplete and impersonal reminder of the human crowd, its dull echo, its pale reflection.

Even Zakhar, who in his candid talks with his cronies at the gate or in the shops gave all sorts of characterizations of his master’s visitors, always felt perplexed when they came to talk of this – let us say, Alexeyev. He would reflect a long time, trying to catch some prominent feature in the face, the looks or the manners or the character of this man, to which he might be able to hold on, and at last had to give it up with the words: «Oh, that one is neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring».

«Oh, that’s you, Alexeyev?» Oblomov greeted him. «Good morning. Where do you come from? Don’t come near – don’t come near, I won’t shake hands – you’re straight from the cold street!»

«Good Lord, it isn’t cold at all!» said Alexeyev. «I hadn’t intended to call on you to-day, but I met Ovchinin and he carried me off to his place. I’ve come to fetch you, Oblomov».

«Where to?»

«Why, to Ovchinin’s, of course. Matvey Andreyich Alyanov, Kasimir Albertovich Pkhailo, and Vassily Sevastyanych Kolymyagin are there».

«What are they doing there and what do they want me for?»

«Ovchinin invites you to dinner».

«Oh, to dinner», Oblomov repeated without enthusiasm.

«And then we’re all going to Yekaterinhof; they told me to ask you to hire a carriage».

«And what are we going to do there?»

«What do you mean? There’s a fête there to-day. Don’t you know? It’s the first of May».

«Sit down, please; we’ll think about it», said Oblomov.

«Do get up! It’s time you were dressed».

«Wait a little; we’ve plenty of time».

«Plenty of time! They are expecting us at twelve, we’ll have dinner early, at two o’clock, and go to the festival. Do hurry up! Shall I ask Zakhar to help you to dress?»

«Dress? I haven’t washed yet!»

«Well, wash, then!»

Alexeyev began pacing the room, then he stopped before a picture he had seen a thousand times before, cast a quick glance out of the window, picked up some knick-knack from the bookcase, turned it round in his hand, examined it thoroughly, put it back, and began pacing the room again, whistling to himself – so as not to interfere with Oblomov’s getting up and washing. Ten minutes passed in this way.

«What on earth are you doing?» Alexeyev suddenly asked Oblomov.

«Why?»

«But you’re still lying down!»

«Should I have got up, then?»

«Why, of course! They’re waiting for us. You wanted to go, didn’t you?»

«Go? Where? I didn’t want to go anywhere».

«But, my dear fellow, you’ve just been saying that we were going to dine at Ovchinin’s and then go to the festival».

«Go there in this damp weather?» Oblomov said lazily. «What do you expect to see there? It’s going to rain, too, it’s so dull outside».

«There’s not a cloud in the sky and you talk of rain! It looks so dull because your windows haven’t been cleaned for ages! Look at the dirt on them! You can’t see a thing here, and one curtain is almost closed».

«I daresay, but just try to say a word about it to Zakhar and he’ll at once suggest engaging charwomen and driving me out of the house for a whole day!»

Oblomov sank into thought, and Alexeyev sat at the table drumming on it with his finger-tips and gazing absent-mindedly at the walls and the ceiling.

«So what are we going to do?» he asked a few minutes later. «Are you going to dress or do you stay as you are?»

«Why?»

«What about Yekaterinhof?»

«What on earth are you so anxious about Yekaterinhof for – really!» Oblomov cried vexatiously. «Can’t you stay here? Are you cold here or is there a bad smell in the room that you’re so anxious to get out?»

«Why, no», said Alexeyev; «I’m not complaining. I’m always very happy here».

«Well, if you are, why are you so anxious to be somewhere else? Why not stay here with me for the day? We’ll have dinner and in the evening you may go where you like. Oh dear, I’ve forgotten: I can’t possibly go out! Tarantyev is coming to dinner: it’s Saturday».

«Well, of course, I don’t mind. I’ll do as you wish», said Alexeyev.

«I haven’t told you anything about my affairs, have I?» Oblomov asked quickly.

«What affairs? I don’t know anything», said Alexeyev, staring at him in surprise.

«Why do you think I haven’t got up all this time? You see, I’ve been lying here trying to find some way out of my troubles».

«What’s the matter?» asked Alexeyev, trying to look alarmed.

«Two misfortunes! I don’t know what to do».

«What misfortunes?»

«They’re driving me out of my flat. Just imagine it – I must move: the upset, the breakages-the mere thought of it frightens me – I have lived here for eight years, you know. My landlord has played a dirty trick on me. Hurry up and move, he says».

«Hurry up! That means he wants your flat badly. Moving is a great nuisance – a very troublesome business», said Alexeyev. «They’re sure to lose and break things – such an infernal nuisance! And you have such a nice flat… What rent do you pay?»

«Where am I to find another such flat?» Oblomov went on; «and in a hurry, too? Dry and warm; a nice quiet house; we’ve had only one burglary here. The ceiling, it is true, doesn’t look quite safe – the plaster is bulging – but it hasn’t come down yet».

«Fancy that!» said Alexeyev, shaking his head.

«I wonder if there is anything I could do so that I – needn’t move?» Oblomov remarked pensively, as though speaking to himself.

«Have you got your flat on a lease?» Alexeyev asked, examining the room from floor to ceiling.

«Yes, but the lease has expired: I’ve been paying the rent monthly for some time – don’t remember for how long».