The Torrents of Spring | Page 5

silver chandeliers; on one side of the sofa, a comfortable lounge-chair
offered its soft embraces, and in this chair they made Sanin sit. All the
inhabitants of the confectioner's shop, with whom he had made
acquaintance that day, were present, not excluding the poodle, Tartaglia,
and the cat; they all seemed happy beyond expression; the poodle
positively sneezed with delight, only the cat was coy and blinked
sleepily as before. They made Sanin tell them who he was, where he
came from, and what was his name; when he said he was a Russian,
both the ladies were a little surprised, uttered ejaculations of wonder,
and declared with one voice that he spoke German splendidly; but if he
preferred to speak French, he might make use of that language, as they
both understood it and spoke it well. Sanin at once availed himself of

this suggestion. 'Sanin! Sanin!' The ladies would never have expected
that a Russian surname could be so easy to pronounce. His Christian
name--'Dimitri'--they liked very much too. The elder lady observed that
in her youth she had heard a fine opera--Demetrio e Polibio'--but that
'Dimitri' was much nicer than 'Demetrio.' In this way Sanin talked for
about an hour. The ladies on their side initiated him into all the details
of their own life. The talking was mostly done by the mother, the lady
with grey hair. Sanin learnt from her that her name was Leonora Roselli;
that she had lost her husband, Giovanni Battista Roselli, who had
settled in Frankfort as a confectioner twenty--five years ago; that
Giovanni Battista had come from Vicenza and had been a most
excellent, though fiery and irascible man, and a republican withal! At
those words Signora Roselli pointed to his portrait, painted in
oil-colours, and hanging over the sofa. It must be presumed that the
painter, 'also a republican!' as Signora Roselli observed with a sigh, had
not fully succeeded in catching a likeness, for in his portrait the late
Giovanni Battista appeared as a morose and gloomy brigand, after the
style of Rinaldo Rinaldini! Signora Roselli herself had come from 'the
ancient and splendid city of Parma where there is the wonderful cupola,
painted by the immortal Correggio!' But from her long residence in
Germany she had become almost completely Germanised. Then she
added, mournfully shaking her head, that all she had left was this
daughter and this son (pointing to each in turn with her finger); that the
daughter's name was Gemma, and the son's Emilio; that they were both
very good and obedient children--especially Emilio ... ('Me not
obedient!' her daughter put in at that point. 'Oh, you're a republican,
too!' answered her mother). That the business, of course, was not what
it had been in the days of her husband, who had a great gift for the
confectionery line ... ('Un grand uomo!' Pantaleone confirmed with a
severe air); but that still, thank God, they managed to get along!

V
Gemma listened to her mother, and at one minute laughed, then sighed,
then patted her on the shoulder, and shook her finger at her, and then
looked at Sanin; at last, she got up, embraced her mother and kissed her

in the hollow of her neck, which made the latter laugh extremely and
shriek a little. Pantaleone too was presented to Sanin. It appeared he
had once been an opera singer, a baritone, but had long ago given up
the theatre, and occupied in the Roselli family a position between that
of a family friend and a servant. In spite of his prolonged residence in
Germany, he had learnt very little German, and only knew how to
swear in it, mercilessly distorting even the terms of abuse. 'Ferroflucto
spitchebubbio' was his favourite epithet for almost every German. He
spoke Italian with a perfect accent--for was he not by birth from
Sinigali, where may be heard 'lingua toscana in bocca romana'! Emilio,
obviously, played the invalid and indulged himself in the pleasant
sensations of one who has only just escaped a danger or is returning to
health after illness; it was evident, too, that the family spoiled him. He
thanked Sanin bashfully, but devoted himself chiefly to the biscuits and
sweetmeats. Sanin was compelled to drink two large cups of excellent
chocolate, and to eat a considerable number of biscuits; no sooner had
he swallowed one than Gemma offered him another--and to refuse was
impossible! He soon felt at home: the time flew by with incredible
swiftness. He had to tell them a great deal--about Russia in general, the
Russian climate, Russian society, the Russian peasant--and especially
about the Cossacks; about the war of 1812, about Peter the Great, about
the Kremlin, and the Russian songs and bells. Both ladies had a very
faint conception of our