Chapter 29

RELATIONS BETWEEN THE GIRLS AND OURSELVES

OF the girls Woloda took the strange view that, although he
wished that they should have enough to eat, should sleep well, be
well dressed, and avoid making such mistakes in French as would
shame him before strangers, he would never admit that they could
think or feel like human beings, still less that they could
converse with him sensibly about anything. Whenever they
addressed to him a serious question (a thing, by the way, which
he always tried to avoid), such as asking his opinion on a novel
or inquiring about his doings at the University, he invariably
pulled a grimace, and either turned away without speaking or
answered with some nonsensical French phrase--"Comme c'est tres
jolie!" or the like. Or again, feigning to look serious and
stolidly wise, he would say something absolutely meaningless and
bearing no relation whatever to the question asked him, or else
suddenly exclaim, with a look of pretended unconsciousness, the
word bulku or poyechali or kapustu, [Respectively, " roll of
butter," "away," and " cabbage."] or something of the kind; and
when, afterwards, I happened to repeat these words to him as
having been told me by Lubotshka or Katenka, he would always
remark:

"Hm! So you actually care about talking to them? I can see you
are a duffer still"--and one needed to see and near him to
appreciate the profound, immutable contempt which echoed in this
remark. He had been grown-up now two years, and was in love with
every good-looking woman that he met; yet, despite the fact that
he came in daily contact with Katenka (who during those two years
had been wearing long dresses, and was growing prettier every
day), the possibility of his falling in love with her never
seemed to enter his head. Whether this proceeded from the fact
that the prosaic recollections of childhood were still too fresh
in his memory, or whether from the aversion which very young
people feel for everything domestic, or whether from the common
human weakness which, at a first encounter with anything fair and
pretty, leads a man to say to himself, "Ah! I shall meet much
more of the same kind during my life," but at all events Woloda
had never yet looked upon Katenka with a man's eyes.

All that summer Woloda appeared to find things very wearisome--a
fact which arose out of that contempt for us all which, as I have
said, he made no effort to conceal. His expression of face seemed
to be constantly saying, "Phew! how it bores me to have no one to
speak to!" The first thing in the morning he would go out
shooting, or sit reading a book in his room, and not dress until
luncheon time. Indeed, if