Oblomov / Обломов. Книга для чтения на английском языке

«Do you think that to express ideas one doesn’t need a heart? One does need it – they are rendered fruitful by love; stretch out a helping hand to the fallen man to raise him, or shed bitter tears over him, if he faces ruin, but do not jeer at him. Love him, remember that he is a man like you, and deal with him as if he were yourself, then I shall read you and acknowledge you», he said, lying down again comfortably on the couch. «They describe a thief or a prostitute», he went on, «but forget the human being or are incapable of depicting him – what art and what poetic vein do you find in that? Expose vice and filth, but please don’t pretend that your exposures have anything to do with poetry».

«According to you, then, all we have to do is to describe nature – roses, nightingales, frosty mornings – while everything around us is in a continuous state of turmoil and movement? All we want is the bare physiology of society – we have no time for songs nowadays».

«Give me man – man!» Oblomov said.

«Love the money-lender, the hypocrite, the thieving or dull-witted official? Surely you can’t mean that? One can see at once that you’re not a literary person!» Penkin said heatedly. «No, sir, they must be punished, cast out from civil life, from society».

В«Cast out from society?В» Oblomov suddenly cried, as though inspired, jumping to his feet and facing Penkin. В«That means forgetting that there was a living spirit in this unworthy vessel; that he is a depraved man, but a man none the less like yourself.

«Going a bit too far, aren’t you?» Penkin said in his turn with surprise.

Oblomov realized, too, that he had overstepped the mark. He fell silent suddenly, stood still for a moment, yawned, and slowly lay down on the couch.

Both lapsed into silence.

В«What do you read then?В» asked Penkin.

В«Me? Oh, books of travel mostlyВ».

Again silence.

«But you will read the poem when it comes out, won’t you?» Penkin asked. «I’d bring it to you…»

Oblomov shook his head.

В«Well, shall I send you my story?В»

Oblomov nodded.

«I’m afraid I must really be off to the printers», said Penkin. «Do you know why I called? I came to ask you to go to Yekaterinhof with me. I have a carriage.