Describing his last night at Ardis, Van Veen (the narrator and main character in VN’s novel Ada, 1969) mentions his dream in which he saw himself on a mountain smothered in snow, with people, trees, and a cow carried down by an avalanche:
Pedro had not yet returned from California. Hay fever and dark glasses did not improve G.A. Vronsky’s appearance. Adorno, the star of Hate, brought his new wife, who turned out to have been one of the old (and most beloved wives) of another guest, a considerably more important comedian, who after supper bribed Bouteillan to simulate the arrival of a message necessitating his immediate departure. Grigoriy Akimovich went with him (having come with him in the same rented limousine), leaving Marina, Ada, Adorno and his ironically sniffing Marianne at a card table. They played biryuch, a variety of whist, till a Ladore taxi could be obtained, which was well after 1:00 a.m.
In the meantime Van changed back to shorts, cloaked himself in the tartan plaid and retired to his bosquet, where the bergamask lamps had not been lit at all that night which had not proved as festive as Marina had expected. He climbed into his hammock and drowsily started reviewing such French-speaking domestics as could have slipped him that ominous but according to Ada meaningless note. The first, obvious choice was hysterical and fantastic Blanche — had there not been her timidity, her fear of being ‘fired’ (he recalled a dreadful scene when she groveled, pleading for mercy, at the feet of Larivière, who accused her of ‘stealing’ a bauble that eventually turned up in one of Larivière’s own shoes). The ruddy face of Bouteillan and his son’s grin next appeared in the focus of Van’s fancy; but presently he fell asleep, and saw himself on a mountain smothered in snow, with people, trees, and a cow carried down by an avalanche.
Something roused him from that state of evil torpor. At first he thought it was the chill of the dying night, then recognized the slight creak (that had been a scream in his confused nightmare), and raising his head saw a dim light in between the shrubs where the door of the tool room was being pushed ajar from the inside. Ada had never once come there without their prudently planning every step of their infrequent nocturnal trysts. He scrambled out of his hammock and padded toward the light doorway. Before him stood the pale wavering figure of Blanche. She presented an odd sight: bare armed, in her petticoat, one stocking gartered, the other down to her ankle; no slippers; armpits glistening with sweat; she was loosening her hair in a wretched simulacrum of seduction.
‘C’est ma dernière nuit au château,’ she said softly, and rephrased it in her quaint English, elegiac and stilted, as spoken only in obsolete novels. ‘‘Tis my last night with thee.’
‘Your last night? With me? What do you mean?’ He considered her with the eerie uneasiness one feels when listening to the utterances of delirium or intoxication.
But despite her demented look, Blanche was perfectly lucid. She had made up her mind a couple of days ago to leave Ardis Hall. She had just slipped her demission, with a footnote on the young lady’s conduct, under the door of Madame. She would go in a few hours. She loved him, he was her ‘folly and fever,’ she wished to spend a few secret moments with him.
He entered the toolroom and slowly closed the door. The slowness had its uncomfortable cause. She had placed her lantern on the rung of a ladder and was already gathering up and lifting her skimpy skirt. Compassion, courtesy and some assistance on her part might have helped him to work up the urge which she took for granted and whose total absence he carefully concealed under his tartan cloak; but quite aside from the fear of infection (Bout had hinted at some of the poor girl’s troubles), a graver matter engrossed him. He diverted her bold hand and sat down on the bench beside her.
Was it she who had placed that note in his jacket?
It was. She had been unable to face departure if he was to remain fooled, deceived, betrayed. She added, in naive brackets, that she had been sure he always desired her, they could talk afterwards. Je suis à toi, c’est bientôt l’aube, your dream has come true.
‘Parlez pour vous,’ answered Van. ‘I am in no mood for love-making. And I will strangle you, I assure you, if you do not tell me the whole story in every detail, at once.’ (1.41)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): c’est ma dernière: this is my last night in the manor.
je suis etc.: I’m yours, it’s soon dawn.
parlez pour vous: speak for yourself.
The name Blanche means "white." In Victor Hugo's poem L'expiation (1853) avalanche rhymes with blanche:
Il neigeait. On était vaincu par sa conquête.
Pour la première fois l'aigle baissait la tête.
Sombres jours ! l'empereur revenait lentement,
Laissant derrière lui brûler Moscou fumant.
Il neigeait. L'âpre hiver fondait en avalanche.
Après la plaine blanche une autre plaine blanche.
On ne connaissait plus les chefs ni le drapeau.
Hier la grande armée, et maintenant troupeau...
It snowed. Someone was defeated by his conquering.
For the first time, the eagle lowered its head.
Heavy days! The emperor came back slowly,
Letting Moscow in smoke burn behind him.
It snowed. The sharp winter came upon one, tumblingly.
After that white plain, another white plain.
Unrecognized now, chiefs and banners.
Yesterday la grande armée and now a flock of something...
Blanche's words "C’est ma dernière nuit au château" make one think of Hugo's novel Le Dernier Jour d'un condamné (1829). "Je suis à toi, c’est bientôt l’aube" brings to mind Hugo's poem Demain dès l'aube ("Tomorrow at Dawn," 1856):
Demain, dès l'aube, à l'heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m'attends.
J'irai par la forêt, j'irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.
Je ne regarderai ni l'or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et, quand j'arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.
Tomorrow, at dawn, at the moment when the land whitens,
I will leave. You see, I know that you are waiting for me.
I will go through the forest, I will go across mountains.
I cannot stay away from you any longer.
I will walk eyes fixed on my thoughts,
Without seeing anything outside, without hearing a noise,
Alone, unknown, back hunched, hands crossed,
Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as the night.
I will watch neither the evening gold fall,
Nor the faraway sailboats descending upon Harfleur.
And when I arrive, I will put on your grave
A bouquet of green holly and heather in bloom.
In VN’s novel Priglashenie na kazn’ (“Invitation to a Beheading,” 1935) Rodrig Ivanovich (the director of the fortress in which Cincinnatus is imprisoned) uses the phrase demain matin:
- Позвольте вас от души поздравить, - маслянистым басом сказал директор, входя на другое утро в камеру к Цинциннату.
Родриг Иванович казался ещё наряднее, чем обычно: спина парадного сюртука была, как у кучеров, упитана ватой, широкая, плоско-жирная, парик лоснился, как новый, сдобное тесто подбородка было напудрено, точно калач, а в петлице розовел восковой цветок с крапчатой пастью. Из-за статной его фигуры, - он торжественно остановился на пороге, - выглядывали с любопытством, тоже праздничные, тоже припомаженные, служащие тюрьмы. Родион надел даже какой-то орденок.
- Я готов. Я сейчас оденусь. Я знал, что сегодня.
- Поздравляю, - повторил директор, не обращая внимания на суетливые движения Цинцинната. - Честь имею доложить, что у вас есть отныне сосед, - да, да, только что въехал. Заждались небось? Ничего, - теперь, с наперсником, с товарищем по играм и занятиям, вам не будет так скучно. Кроме того, - но это, конечно, должно остаться строго между нами, могу сообщить, что пришло вам разрешение на свидание с супругой: demain matin.
Цинциннат опять опустился на койку и сказал:
- Да, это хорошо. Благодарю вас, кукла, кучер, крашенная сволочь... Простите, я немножко...
“Please accept my sincerest congratulations” said the director in his unctuous bass as he entered Cincinnatus’s cell next morning.
Rodrig Ivanovich seemed even more spruce than usual: the dorsal part of his best frock coat was stuffed with cotton padding like a Russian coachman’s, making his back look broad, smooth, and fat; his wig was glossy as new; the rich dough of his chin seemed to be powdered with flour, while in his buttonhole there was a pink waxy flower with a speckled mouth. From behind his stately figure — he had stopped on the threshold — the prison employees peeked curiously, also decked out in their Sunday best, also with their hair slicked down; Rodion had even put on some little medal.
“I am ready. I shall get dressed at once. I knew it would be today.”
'Congratulations,” repeated the director, paying no attention to Cincinnatus’s jerky agitation. “I have the honour to inform you that henceforth you have a neighbour — yes, yes, he has just moved in. You have grown tired of waiting, I bet? Well, don't worry — now, with a confidant, with a pal, to play and work with, you won’t find it so dull. And, what is more — but this, of course, must remain strictly between ourselves — I can inform you that permission has come for you to have an interview with your spouse, demain matin.
Cincinnatus lay back down on the cot and said, ‘Yes, that’s fine. I thank you, rag doll, coachman, painted swine. . . Excuse me, I am a little…' (Chapter Five)
M'sieur Pierre (Cincinnatus neighbor who turns out to be the executioner) is a namesake of Pierre Bezukhov, a character in Tolstoy's novel Voina i mir ("War and Peace," 1869). In Tolstoy’s novel belyi kozhanyi fartuk (a white leathern apron) is put on Pierre when he becomes a member of the Masons:
Двое из братьев подвели Пьера к алтарю, поставили ему ноги в прямоугольное положение и приказали ему лечь, говоря, что он повергается к вратам храма. - Он прежде должен получить лопату, - сказал шопотом один из братьев. - А! полноте пожалуйста, - сказал другой. Пьер, растерянными, близорукими глазами, не повинуясь, оглянулся вокруг себя, и вдруг на него нашло сомнение. "Где я? Что я делаю? Не смеются ли надо мной? Не будет ли мне стыдно вспоминать это?" Но сомнение это продолжалось только одно мгновение. Пьер оглянулся на серьезные лица окружавших его людей, вспомнил всё, что он уже прошел, и понял, что нельзя остановиться на половине дороги. Он ужаснулся своему сомнению и, стараясь вызвать в себе прежнее чувство умиления, повергся к вратам храма. И действительно чувство умиления, еще сильнейшего, чем прежде, нашло на него. Когда он пролежал несколько времени, ему велели встать и надели на него такой же белый кожаный фартук, какие были на других, дали ему в руки лопату и три пары перчаток, и тогда великий мастер обратился к нему. Он сказал ему, чтобы он старался ничем не запятнать белизну этого фартука, представляющего крепость и непорочность; потом о невыясненной лопате сказал, чтобы он трудился ею очищать свое сердце от пороков и снисходительно заглаживать ею сердце ближнего. Потом про первые перчатки мужские сказал, что значения их он не может знать, но должен хранить их, про другие перчатки мужские сказал, что он должен надевать их в собраниях и наконец про третьи женские перчатки сказал: "Любезный брат, и сии женские перчатки вам определены суть. Отдайте их той женщине, которую вы будете почитать больше всех. Сим даром уверите в непорочности сердца вашего ту, которую изберете вы себе в достойную каменьщицу". И помолчав несколько времени, прибавил: - "Но соблюди, любезный брат, да не украшают перчатки сии рук нечистых".
Two of the brothers led Pierre up to the altar, placed his feet at right angles, and bade him lie down, saying that he must prostrate himself at the Gates of the Temple. "He must first receive the trowel," whispered one of the brothers. "Oh, hush, please!" said another. Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his shortsighted eyes without obeying, and suddenly doubts arose in his mind. "Where am I? What am I doing? Aren't they laughing at me? Shan't I be ashamed to remember this?" But these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre glanced at the serious faces of those around, remembered all he had already gone through, and realized that he could not stop halfway. He was aghast at his hesitation and, trying to arouse his former devotional feeling, prostrated himself before the Gates of the Temple. And really, the feeling of devotion returned to him even more strongly than before. When he had lain there some time, he was told to get up, and a white leather apron, such as the others wore, was put on him: he was given a trowel and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand Master addressed him. He told him that he should try to do nothing to stain the whiteness of that apron, which symbolized strength and purity; then of the unexplained trowel, he told him to toil with it to cleanse his own heart from vice, and indulgently to smooth with it the heart of his neighbor. As to the first pair of gloves, a man's, he said that Pierre could not know their meaning but must keep them. The second pair of man's gloves he was to wear at the meetings, and finally of the third, a pair of women's gloves, he said: "Dear brother, these woman's gloves are intended for you too. Give them to the woman whom you shall honor most of all. This gift will be a pledge of your purity of heart to her whom you select to be your worthy helpmeet in Masonry." And after a pause, he added: "But beware, dear brother, that these gloves do not deck hands that are unclean." (Book Five, chapter 4)
According to Trofim Fartukov (the Russian coachman in “Ardis the Second”), even through kozhanyi fartuk (a leathern apron) he would not think of touching Blanche:
‘The express does not stop at Torfyanka, does it, Trofim?’
‘I’ll take you five versts across the bog,’ said Trofim, ‘the nearest is Volosyanka.’
His vulgar Russian word for Maidenhair; a whistle stop; train probably crowded.
Maidenhair. Idiot! Percy boy might have been buried by now! Maidenhair. Thus named because of the huge spreading Chinese tree at the end of the platform. Once, vaguely, confused with the Venus’-hair fern. She walked to the end of the platform in Tolstoy’s novel. First exponent of the inner monologue, later exploited by the French and the Irish. N’est vert, n’est vert, n’est vert. L’arbre aux quarante écus d’or, at least in the fall. Never, never shall I hear again her ‘botanical’ voice fall at biloba, ‘sorry, my Latin is showing.’ Ginkgo, gingko, ink, inkog. Known also as Salisbury’s adiantofolia, Ada’s infolio, poor Salisburia: sunk; poor Stream of Consciousness, marée noire by now. Who wants Ardis Hall!
‘Barin, a barin,’ said Trofim, turning his blond-bearded face to his passenger.
‘Da?’
‘Dazhe skvoz’ kozhanïy fartuk ne stal-bï ya trogat’ etu frantsuzskuyu devku.’
Barin: master. Dázhe skvoz’ kózhanïy fártuk: even through a leathern apron. Ne stal-bï ya trógat’: I would not think of touching. Étu: this (that). Frantsúzskuyu: French (adj., accus.). Dévku: wench. Úzhas, otcháyanie: horror, despair. Zhálost’: pity, Kóncheno, zagázheno, rastérzano: finished, fouled, torn to shreds. (1.41)
Showing to Van Kim Beauharnais’s album, Ada tells him that Blanche is now Madame Trofim Fartukov and that they have a blind child:
Nonchalantly, Van went back to the willows and said:
‘Every shot in the book has been snapped in 1884, except this one. I never rowed you down Ladore River in early spring. Nice to note you have not lost your wonderful ability to blush.’
‘It’s his error. He must have thrown in a fotochka taken later, maybe in 1888. We can rip it out if you like.’
‘Sweetheart,’ said Van, ‘the whole of 1888 has been ripped out. One need not bb a sleuth in a mystery story to see that at least as many pages have been removed as retained. I don’t mind — I mean I have no desire to see the Knabenkräuter and other pendants of your friends botanizing with you; but 1888 has been withheld and he’ll turn up with it when the first grand is spent.’
‘I destroyed 1888 myself,’ admitted proud Ada; ‘but I swear, I solemnly swear, that the man behind Blanche, in the perron picture, was, and has always remained, a complete stranger.’
‘Good for him,’ said Van. ‘Really it has no importance. It’s our entire past that has been spoofed and condemned. On second thoughts, I will not write that Family Chronicle. By the way, where is my poor little Blanche now?’
‘Oh, she’s all right. She’s still around. You know, she came back — after you abducted her. She married our Russian coachman, the one who replaced Bengal Ben, as the servants called him.’
‘Oh she did? That’s delicious. Madame Trofim Fartukov. I would never have thought it.’
‘They have a blind child,’ said Ada.
‘Love is blind,’ said Van.
‘She tells me you made a pass at her on the first morning of your first arrival.’
‘Not documented by Kim,’ said Van. ‘Will their child remain blind? I mean, did you get them a really first-rate physician?’
‘Oh yes, hopelessly blind. But speaking of love and its myths, do you realize — because I never did before talking to her a couple of years ago — that the people around our affair had very good eyes indeed? Forget Kim, he’s only the necessary clown — but do you realize that a veritable legend was growing around you and me while we played and made love?’ (2.7)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): Knabenkräuter: Germ., orchids (and testicles).
perron: porch.
In Les Misérables (1862) Victor Hugo says: Personne n'aime la lumière comme l'aveugle (Nobody loves the light like the blind man). The characters in Hugo's novel L'Homme qui rit ("The Man Who Loves," 1869) include the traveling artist Ursus and his adopted daughter Dea, a blind girl. In December, 1892, Van takes Ada and Lucette (Van's and Ada's half-sister) to 'Ursus,' the best Franco-Estotian restaurant in Manhattan Major:
Knowing how fond his sisters were of Russian fare and Russian floor shows, Van took them Saturday night to ‘Ursus,’ the best Franco-Estotian restaurant in Manhattan Major. Both young ladies wore the very short and open evening gowns that Vass ‘miraged’ that season — in the phrase of that season: Ada, a gauzy black, Lucette, a lustrous cantharid green. Their mouths ‘echoed’ in tone (but not tint) each other’s lipstick; their eyes were made up in a ‘surprised bird-of-paradise’ style that was as fashionable in Los as in Lute. Mixed metaphors and double-talk became all three Veens, the children of Venus. (2.8)
A couple of months later Van blinds Kim Beauharnais (a kitchen boy and photographer at Ardis) for spying on him and Ada and attempting to blackmail Ada:
Van sealed the letter, found his Thunderbolt pistol in the place he had visualized, introduced one cartridge into the magazine and translated it into its chamber. Then, standing before a closet mirror, he put the automatic to his head, at the point of the pterion, and pressed the comfortably concaved trigger. Nothing happened — or perhaps everything happened, and his destiny simply forked at that instant, as it probably does sometimes at night, especially in a strange bed, at stages of great happiness or great desolation, when we happen to die in our sleep, but continue our normal existence, with no perceptible break in the faked serialization, on the following, neatly prepared morning, with a spurious past discreetly but firmly attached behind. Anyway, what he held in his right hand was no longer a pistol but a pocket comb which he passed through his hair at the temples. It was to gray by the time that Ada, then in her thirties, said, when they spoke of their voluntary separation:
‘I would have killed myself too, had I found Rose wailing over your corpse. "Secondes pensées sont les bonnes," as your other, white, bonne used to say in her pretty patois. As to the apron, you are quite right. And what you did not make out was that the artist had about finished a large picture of your meek little palazzo standing between its two giant guards. Perhaps for the cover of a magazine, which rejected that picture. But, you know, there’s one thing I regret,’ she added: ‘Your use of an alpenstock to release a brute’s fury — not yours, not my Van’s. I should never have told you about the Ladore policeman. You should never have taken him into your confidence, never connived with him to burn those files — and most of Kalugano’s pine forest. Eto unizitel’no (it is humiliating).’
‘Amends have been made,’ replied fat Van with a fat man’s chuckle. ‘I’m keeping Kim safe and snug in a nice Home for Disabled Professional People, where he gets from me loads of nicely brailled books on new processes in chromophotography.’
There are other possible forkings and continuations that occur to the dream-mind, but these will do. (2.11)
Darkbloom ('Notes to Ada'): secondes pensées etc.: second thoughts are the good ones.
bonne: housemaid.