Oblomov / Обломов. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Иван Гончаров

there is for dinner. Your food is so awful as a rule that I thought I’d better find out what you’ve ordered for to-day».

      «You’d better ask in the kitchen», said Oblomov.

      Tarantyev went out.

      «Good heavens!» he said, returning. «Beef and veal! The trouble with you, old man, is that you don’t know how to live – a landowner, forsooth! What sort of a gentleman are you? You look like a shopkeeper – you’ve no idea how to treat a friend! Have you bought any Madeira at least?»

      «Don’t know, you’d better ask Zakhar», said Oblomov, hardly listening to him. «I expect they must have some wine there».

      «You mean the same wine as before – from the German? Really, my dear fellow, you ought to buy some in the English shop».

      «Oh, it’ll have to do», said Oblomov. «Don’t want to send out for it».

      «But look here, give me the money and I’ll fetch it. I have to go past the shop anyway. I’ve still to make another call».

      Oblomov rummaged in the drawer and produced a red ten-rouble note.

      «Madeira costs seven roubles, and this is ten», said Oblomov.

      «Let’s have it all. Don’t be afraid – they’ll give me the change at the shop».

      He snatched the note from Oblomov’s hand and quickly hid it in his pocket.

      «Well», said Tarantyev, putting on his hat. «I’ll be back by five o’clock. I have a call to make: I’ve been promised a job in a spirits depot and they asked me to look in. By the way, my dear fellow, won’t you hire a carriage to go to Yekaterinhof to-day? You might take me with you».

      Oblomov shook his head.

      «Why not? Are you too lazy, or do you grudge the money? Oh, you sluggard!» he said. «Well, good-bye for the present».

      «Wait, Tarantyev», Oblomov interrupted him. «I want to ask your advice».

      «What is it? Come on, out with it! I’m in a hurry».

      «Well, two misfortunes have befallen me, all at once. I have to move…»

      «Serves you right. Why don’t you pay your rent?» said Tarantyev, turning to go.

      «Good Lord, no! I always pay in advance. No, they’re going to convert this flat. Wait a moment. Where are you off to? Tell me what I am to do. They rush me. They want me to move within a week».

      «What sort of advice do you expect me to give you? You needn’t imagine…»

      «I don’t imagine anything», said Oblomov. «Don’t shout. Better think what I am to do. You’re a practical man…»

      But Tarantyev was no longer listening to him. He was thinking of something.

      «Well», he said, taking off his hat and sitting down. «All right, you may thank me and order champagne for dinner. Your business is settled».

      «What do you mean?» asked Oblomov.

      «Will there be champagne?»

      «Perhaps, if your advice is worth it».

      «Aye, but you’re not worth the advice. You don’t imagine I’ll give you advice for nothing, do you? There, you can ask him», he added, pointing to Alexeyev, «or his relative».

      «All right, all right, tell me», Oblomov begged.

      «Now, listen: you must move to-morrow».

      «Good Lord, what an idea! I knew that myself».

      «Wait, don’t interrupt», Tarantyev shouted. «To-morrow you will move to the flat of a good friend of mine in Vyborg».

      «What nonsense is that! Vyborg! Why, they say wolves roam the streets there in winter!»

      «Oh, well, they do come there sometimes from the islands, but what has that got to do with you?»

      «But it’s such a dull place – a wilderness, no one lives there».

      «Nonsense! A good friend of mine lives there. She has a house of her own with big kitchen gardens. She is a gentlewoman, a widow with two children. Her unmarried brother lives with her. He’s a clever fellow, not like that chap in the corner there», he said, pointing to Alexeyev. «He’s a damn sight more intelligent than you or I».

      «What has that got to do with me?» Oblomov said impatiently. «I’m not going to move there».

      «We shall see about that. No, sir, if you ask for my advice, you have to do as I tell you».

      «I’m not going there», Oblomov said firmly.

      «To hell with you, then», replied Tarantyev, and, pulling his hat over his eyes, walked to the door.

      «You funny fellow», Tarantyev said, coming back. «Do you find it so pleasant here?»

      «Pleasant? Why it’s so near to everything», Oblomov said. «To the shops, the theatre, my friends – it’s the centre of the city, everything…»

      «Wha-at?» Tarantyev interrupted him. «And how long is it since you went out? Tell me that. How long is it since you went to a theatre? Who are the friends you visit? Why the hell do you want to live in the centre of the city, pray?»

      «What do you mean, why? For lots of reasons».

      «You see, you don’t know yourself. But there – why, think of it: you’ll live in the house of a gentlewoman, a good friend of mine, in peace and quiet. No one to disturb you – no noise, clean and tidy. Why, you live here just as at an inn – you, a gentleman, a landowner! But there everything is clean and quiet, and there’s always someone to talk to if you’re bored. Except me, no one will come to visit you there. Two children – play about with them to your heart’s content. What more do you want? And think what you will save! What do you pay here?»

      «Fifteen hundred».

      «Well, there you’d pay a thousand for almost a whole house! And such lovely bright rooms! She’s long been wanting a quiet, tidy lodger – so there you are!»

      Oblomov shook his head absent-mindedly.

      «Nonsense, you’ll move all right!» said Tarantyev. «Just consider: it’ll cost you half of what you’re spending here: you’ll save five hundred in rent alone. Your food will be twice as good and as clean; your cook and Zakhar won’t be able to steal…»

      A growl was heard from the entrance hall.

      «– and there’ll be more order too», Tarantyev went on. «Why, it’s dreadful to sit down to dinner at your place now. You want the pepper – it isn’t there; vinegar – they’ve forgotten to buy any, the knives have not been cleaned; you say you keep losing your linen – dust everywhere – it’s disgusting! And there a woman will be keeping house – neither you, nor that fool Zakhar…»

      The growling in the entrance hall grew louder.

      «– that old dog won’t have to bother about anything», Tarantyev went on. «You will be provided with board and lodgings. Why hesitate? Move – and that’s the end of it».

      «But how could I – for no rhyme or reason – suddenly move to Vyborg?»

      «What’s the use of talking to you?» Tarantyev said, wiping the perspiration from his face. «It’s summer time now: why, it’s as good as living in a country house. Why rot here in Gorokhovaya Street? There you would have the Bezbarodkin Gardens, Okhta is next door, the Neva within a few yards, your own kitchen garden – no dust, no stuffiness! Why waste time thinking? I’ll nip over to her now before dinner – you’ll let me have the cab fares – and to-morrow you can move…»

      «What a man!» said Oblomov. «Suddenly he gets a crazy idea into his head and I have to move to Vyborg. I mean, it’s not difficult to think of such a plan. No, sir, you’d better think of something that would make it possible for me to stay here. I’ve lived here for eight years and I don’t want to change».

      «It’s