irst Love
Turgenev, Ivan Sergeyevich
(Interpreter: Constance Garnett)
About Turgenev:
Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev (November 9 [O.S. October 28] 1818 – September 3 [O.S. August 22] 1883) was a noteworthy Russian writer and dramatist. His novel Fathers and Sons is viewed as a noteworthy work of nineteenth century fiction. Source: Wikipedia
The gathering had long back split up. The clock struck half-past twelve. There was left in the room just the ace of the house and Sergei Nikolaevitch and Vladimir Petrovitch.
The ace of the house rang and requested the remaining parts of the dinner to be gathered up. 'As it's settled,' he watched, sitting back more remote in his armchair and lighting a stogie; 'every one of us is to recount the narrative of his first love. It's your turn, Sergei Nikolaevitch.'
Sergei Nikolaevitch, a round little man with a full, lightcomplexioned confront, looked first at the ace of the house, at that point raised his eyes to the roof. 'I had no first love,' he said finally; 'I started with the second.'
'How was that?'
'It's exceptionally straightforward. I was eighteen when I had my first tease with an enchanting young woman, yet I pursued her similarly as if it were just the same old thing new to me; similarly as I sought others later on. To talk precisely, the first and last time I was enamored was with my attendant when I was six years of age; however that is in the remote past. The subtle elements of our relations have slipped out of my memory, and regardless of whether I recollected that them, whom would they be able to intrigue?'
'At that point how's it to be?' started the ace of the house. 'There was not a lot of enthusiasm about my first love it is possible that; I never experienced passionate feelings for any one till I met Anna Nikolaevna, now my better half, – and everything went as easily as conceivable with us; our folks masterminded the match, we were soon enamored with one another, and got hitched without loss of time. My story can be told in several words. I should admit, men of honor, in raising the subject of first love, I figured upon you, I won't state old, yet no longer youthful, lone rangers. Wouldn't you be able to en-
livenus with something, Vladimir Petrovitch?'
'My first love, absolutely, was not exactly a customary one,' reacted, with some hesitance, Vladimir Petrovitch, a man of forty, with dark hair turning dim.
'Ok!' said the ace of the house and Sergei Nikolaevitch
with one voice: 'So much the better… . Enlighten us regarding it.'
'On the off chance that you wish it … or no; I won't recount the story; I'm no hand at recounting a story; I make it dry and brief, or spun out and influenced. In the event that you'll permit me, I'll work out all I recollect and read it you.'
His companions at first would not concur, but rather Vladimir Petrovitch demanded his own specific manner. A fortnight later they were as one once more, and Vladimir Petrovitch kept his pledge.