BY MISTAKE

By Nikolai Mordinov

Sergey Lvovich and I sit side by side at a health resort dining room table. I feel some hostility towards him. His company is unpleasant to me. But he doesn't feel ill at ease for this reason.

As far as my other health-resort mates are concerned, I am on friendly terms with them.

I have already learned about their genealogy in detail, the number of their children and so on, including the names of their wives. What I know about Sergey Lvovich is only the fact that he had some traumatic accident when he fell down from a horse's saddle. He comes here every summer for treatment. He had been keeping bed for several years and only this year he is able to walk with the help of an invalid stick. He must be a bad person! By all means!

He is so handsome! His appearance is so nice! For an elderly man to have such a nice appearance means nothing good!

His round hazel eyes look at you through his thick long black eyelashes calmly and moderately. The velvet tones of his eyes become darker or lighter every other minute!

His dark narrow brows seem to be fixed carefully on his forehead by somebody's delicate fingers. Sometimes these eyebrows seem to be on the point of dropping off.

His rosy lips remind me of an ancient arch back. Whenever Sergey Lvovich smiles, his white pearly teeth are shown behind his rosy lips.

His shot gray hair curls nicely curly like sea waves in stormy weather.

Oh, no! I have never tried to describe even the beauty of a young lady!

There are a lot of defective details of Sergey Lvovich's extraordinary appearance.

Besides:

He wears an expensive Cheviot suit, fashionable yellow shoes and cream coloured shirt.

More over:

He combs his hair after blowing his comb carefully. After combing his hair he carefully blows his comb again and puts it into his pocket. He uses "SHIPR" eau-de-cologne and uses a silk handkerchief.

In addition:

His surname has the ending "-sky", which is characteristic of bourgeois people.

He is in the habit of singing in a low voice the song, "Let's shake each other's hands." I don't know the content of this song, but I'm sure that it must be a petty bourgeois song.

He also wears a bracelet. I suppose that Sergey Lvovich must be an accountant. He has the long straight fingers one associates with accountants.

Whenever he starts talking to me, I try to make caustic remarks.

"I began to write some poems at one time", he said once.

"In young ladies' album?" I asked.

"No, in the newspapers. If I didn't give it up I would have become a poet".

"If you were destined to become a writer you wouldn't give up," I said.

"Do you think that if one is destined to become a writer nothing will interfere?" he asked moderately.

"If you don't want to become something, nothing will happen" I said.

Sergey Lvovich kept silent for a while, casting a long delicate glance at me. Then he got up, singing: "Let's shake each other's hands…"

His tolerance irritates me!

"Most people announce their departure beforehand, ten or so days ahead, getting ready in advance, talking about their departure too much.

After dinner people left the health resort building and I was sitting alone in the terrace writing in my writing-pad.

Some time later Sergey Lvovich came onto the terrace.

"Sorry to disturb you," he said.

"Not at all, I'm afraid that I will disturb you," I answered.

Sergey Lvovich sat down and began to smoke his cigarette.

Then he leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms on his chest and stared at one point as if he forgot about my presence and the surrounding world.

"Sergey Lvovich, will you come again next year?" I asked him after a long silence.

"I don't know. It depends on my health. Now I am feeling well. After a three year break I am going to take part in the Communist Party Regional Conference"

"What?!! The Communist Party Regional Conference?!"

At last we are having a normal dialogue.

"You had some prejudice against me. Why?" he interjected during our conversation.

"You are too handsome," I explained directly.

He smiled, being embarrassed and said:

"Handsome! What of it? There are many people who can be considered to be more handsome. Maybe in my youth I was not so bad. I was a herdsman in the farm and grazed a herd of cows in the village. Even if I were really handsome now, why are you so angry for that reason?"

"I don't know exactly. But it's considered that the communist must be rough and rude. Maybe it's wrong. And where did you work after being a herdsman in the farm?"

"Oh, dare me! I'm very sorry. I thought that you are one of the former bourgeoisies," I said.

"What? The former bourgeoisie?"

I confessed that I had been mistaken for the whole month.

Sergey Lvovich broke into a laugh. And while laughing he said:

"Why? Handsome? A slave must be ugly? Am I well-dressed? Am I singing "Let's shake each others hands" all the time? What of it? Should I sing the "International" alone? Am I a bourgeoisie? Well, I have never been rich. I saw the bourgeoisie during the Civil War in Russia. At the front. When they were captured by the Red Army. They were prisoners. All right. We have had a good laugh. Now, it's time for me to go. Good bye!"

Sergey Lvovich shook my hand warmly. Starting for the door, from mere habit he began to sing "Let's shake each other's hands," but stopped all of a sudden and in order to mock me began to sing the "International" and again broke into a laugh and waved his hand.

I parted from one of the Red Army high officials, an old respected bolshevick this way.

Translated by Nadya Matveeva