Wonderful Love (Foreign Short Love) translated by Zhang Bao on September 12, 2017

The next day's lunch was a very tasty pie, crayfish and lamb fillet, and while we were eating, Chef Nicano came to ask what guests would be coming for dinner. He was a man of medium stature, with a chubby face, small eyes, and a shaved head, which looked like his beard had been unshaven but looked like it had been uprooted. Alessin told me that the pretty Palati fell in love with the chef, despite his love of drinking and his temper. She didn't want to marry him, but she was willing to live with him. He was very religious, his religion did not allow him to "live in sin," he insisted that she marry him, and he would not agree to anything else. When he was drunk, he often abused her and even beat her. Whenever he was drunk, she would hide in the hallway and cry. On such occasions, Alessin and the servants stayed in the house, ready to defend her.

We started talking about love.

"How love is made," said Alessin, "why Palati can't love someone as much as she loves her own spirit and outward temperament, why does she fall in love with Nikano, the ugly nose, we all call him 'Nose'." The result of a person's love is closely related to his personal happiness. People always accept their preferred point of view. So far, there is only one undeniable fact that proves love: 'It's a wonderful mystery.' All the descriptions of love that have been written and spoken are not really conclusive, but can only be regarded as an expression of the mystery of love. This interpretation seems to apply to one case, but not to all others. Therefore, I think the best way to explain love is to analyze and explain a single phenomenon of love, rather than generalizing. As the doctor said, the right medicine should be prescribed.

"Exactly," said Burtin, approvingly.

"We, the educated Russian strata, have a special preference for these unanswered questions. Love is usually poeticized, decorated with roses, nightingales, and we Russians adorn our love with these great questions, even the most uninteresting ones. In Moscow, when I was a student, I had a friend who lived with me, and she was a charming lady. Every time I hugged her, she would wonder if I would ask her to do my chores for a month, or how much would a pound of beef cost?

In the same way, when we are in love, we never get tired of asking ourselves: is this glorious or dishonorable, wise or stupid, where is love leading us, etc. I don't know if it's going to be good or bad for me, but I do know it's an unsatisfying and unpleasant way.

He seemed to want to tell me some stories. People who live lonely lives are always eager to pour out their feelings in their hearts. In the city, a bachelor would always go to bathhouses and restaurants if he wanted to chat. Sometimes the most interesting things are told to the waiters at bathhouses and restaurants. In the countryside, as a matter of routine, they prefer to confide in their guests. Looking out the window, the sky was gloomy and gray, the trees were soaked in rain, and we couldn't go anywhere in this weather, we couldn't do anything, we could only stay here and tell and listen to stories.

"I lived in Sofino for a long time and farmed there. "Since graduating from university, I have been educated to be a lazy gentleman, a studious person. But when I came here, I was in a big debt, partly because my father had invested so much money in my education that I couldn't leave until I paid off my debts. I decided to overcome all my disgust and get to work. The land here was not very productive, and if the cultivated land was not wasted, serfs or hired laborers had to be hired and the peasants and their families would work together. I gathered all the peasants, men and women, from the neighboring villages, and worked very quickly. I plowed, sowed, and harvested myself, until I got tired of it, and frowned, like a hungry country cat eating cucumbers in the vegetable garden. I had pain in my body and fell asleep while walking.

At first, I thought it would be easy to reconcile this hard life with my nurturing habits, which I had to do whenever it was necessary in my life. I arranged myself the best room upstairs and had them bring me coffee and liquor after lunch and dinner, always there when I went to bed at night.

But one day my priest, Godfather Ivan, came, drank all my liquor in one go, and took all my ones to his daughter. In the summer, especially during the hay cutting season, I can no longer sleep in my bed, but in a snowmobile in the barn, or even in a hut in the forest, where can I still have the opportunity to read? Having begun to eat in the servants kitchen, and my former luxury, there was nothing left but servants in the service of my father. And the servants were so anguished that they wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"In my first year, I was selected as an honorary vigilante here. I often go into town to attend council and circuit court meetings, and that's a change for the better. When you stay here for two or three months without being able to rest, especially in winter, you finally start to worry about a black coat. But in the circuit court, there were coats, uniforms and gowns, and all the lawyers were generally educated people; After sleeping on a snowmobile and eating in the kitchen, it is a luxury to be able to sit in an armchair, dressed in clean linen, wearing light boots, and wearing a vest with a chain!

I received a warm welcome in town. I eagerly made friends. To be honest, the closest and most comfortable thing for me was my relationship with Luganovich. He is an associate judge of the Circuit Court. You both know him, a very charismatic man. It all happened after the famous arson, the preliminary investigation lasted two days, and we were all exhausted. Lugnovich looked at me and said, "That's it, let's go to dinner together." ”

"It came as a surprise to me because I didn't know Lugnovic very well, I only socialized in formal settings and never went to his house. I went back to the hotel, changed my clothes, and went to dinner. This gave me the opportunity to meet Anna Alekevina, Lugnovich's wife.