Oblomov Read Online Free PDF Page B

disgraceful! I wonder who it can be so early?’
    And without attempting to get up, he looked curiously at the door.
    2
    A YOUNG MAN of twenty-five, looking the picture of health, with laughing cheeks, lips, and eyes, entered the room. It made one envious to look at him.
    He was irreproachably groomed and dressed, and his countenance, linen, gloves, and frock-coat had a dazzling freshness.An elegant chain with numberless tiny trinkets stretched across his waistcoat. He pulled out a handkerchief of the finest lawn, inhaled the perfumes of the Orient, then, passing it lightly across his face and his shiny hat, flicked his patent leather boots with it.
    ‘Oh, Volkov, how are you?’ said Oblomov.
    ‘How are you, Oblomov?’ the dazzling gentleman said, walking up to him.
    ‘Don’t come near me,’ Oblomov cried, ‘don’t come near me; you’re straight from the cold street!’
    ‘Oh, you spoilt darling, you sybarite!’ Volkov said, looking for a place to put down his hat, but, seeing the dust everywhere, he decided to keep it in his hand. He parted the skirts of his frock-coat to sit down, but after a careful glance at the arm-chair, remained standing.
    ‘You aren’t up yet! What an old-fashioned dressing-gown you’re wearing – I haven’t seen one like it for ages!’
    ‘It’s a perfectly good dressing-gown,’ said Oblomov, lovingly wrapping the wide folds of the garment round him.
    ‘Are you well?’ asked Volkov.
    ‘Well? Good Lord, no!’ Oblomov answered, yawning. ‘Couldn’t feel worse. High blood pressure, you know. And how are you?’
    ‘Me? I’m all right. In perfect health, and having a jolly good time,’ the young man added with feeling.
    ‘Where do you come from so early?’ asked Oblomov.
    ‘From my tailor’s. How do you like my frock-coat? Splendid, isn’t it?’ he said, turning round before Oblomov.
    ‘Splendid! In excellent taste,’ said Oblomov. ‘But why is it so wide at the back?’
    ‘It’s a riding-coat; for riding on horseback.’
    ‘Oh, I see! But do you ride?’
    ‘Of course I do! I had the coat specially made for to-day. It’s the first of May to-day: Goryunov and I are going to Yekaterinhof. Oh, you don’t know, do you? Misha Goryunov has received his commission – so we’re celebrating to-day,’ Volkov added with enthusiasm.
    ‘Oh, indeed,’ said Oblomov.
    ‘He has a chestnut horse,’ Volkov went on. ‘All the horses in his regiment are chestnut; and mine is a black one. How will you go – will you walk or drive?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll go at all,’ said Oblomov.
    ‘Not go to Yekaterinhof on the first of May? Good Lord,Oblomov!’ Volkov cried in surprise. ‘Why, everyone will be there!’
    ’Not everyone, surely,’ Oblomov observed lazily.
    ‘Do come, my dear fellow! Sofya Nikolayevna and Lydia will be alone in the carriage, and the seat opposite is entirely at your disposal.’
    ‘No, that seat is too small for me. And, besides, what on earth am I going to do there?’
    ‘Very well, in that case Misha could hire another horse for you.’
    ‘The things he thinks of!’ Oblomov said, almost to himself. ‘Why are you so interested in the Goryunovs?’
    ‘Oh!’ Volkov said, flushing crimson. ‘Shall I tell you?’
    ‘Do.’
    ‘You won’t tell anyone – on your word of honour?’ Volkov went on, sitting down on the sofa beside him.
    ‘I won’t.’
    ‘I – I’m in love with Lydia,’ he whispered.
    ‘Bravo! How long? – She’s very charming, I believe.’
    ‘For three weeks,’ Volkov said with a deep sigh. ‘And Misha is in love with Dashenka.’
    ‘Which Dashenka?’
    ‘Where have you been, Oblomov? You don’t know Dashenka? Why, the whole town is crazy about her dancing. To-night I’m going to the ballet with him: he wants to throw a bouquet on to the stage. I must introduce him into society. He’s so shy – a novice. Oh, good Lord, I have got to go and buy some camelias.’
    ‘Whatever for? You’d better come and