Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Impressions of Russian Literature - V
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slowly to and fro. And once she was the most plump,
most graceful, gayest, and most beautiful girl in the
country, always ready for laughter, song, and dance.
She tells her fate, how after her accident she had
become shrunken, dark-colored, had lost the power of
standing and walking, appetite for eating and drinking;
how they burnt her on the back with red-hot iron, and
put her into solid ice, all to no effect. And she tells all
this in an almost cheerful manner, without any attempt
to excite pity. Her lover has left her, and married
another. He is, she says, happy in his marriage, thank
God. She finds his act natural and right. She is thankful
to the people who take care of her, especially to a
little girl who brings her flowers; she is not dull, does
not complain: there are others who are more unhappy
than she is, — the blind or the deaf and dumb; she sees
wonderfully well, and hears everything, — hears when
a mole is digging under ground, and smells every
fragrance, even the weakest, — the flowers of the
buckwheat, far out in the fields, and the linden trees far
down in the garden. The great events in her existence
are when a hen or a sparrow or a butterfly comes in to
her through a door or window. She has great pleasure
in the recollection of a visit a hare made to her one
day. And Lukeria reminds Turgenief of the time when
she sang ballads. She still sings them sometimes, she
tells him. The thought that this scarcely living being
is preparing to sing inspires him with involuntary horror;
and, trembling like a thread of light smoke, her poor
little voice comes out in almost inaudible but clear and
pure tones. She tells him the wonderful dreams she has
had (unfortunately she sleeps but little), — one about
Jesus, who came to meet her, and held out his hand to
her; one about a woman whom she met, and who was
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