Tanya (Bunin)
Short summary
Rural Russia, early 20th century. While visiting his relative's estate, a young man became intimate with Tanya, an eighteen-year-old housemaid, after finding her asleep one autumn night. Initially considering this a chance encounter, he was surprised when she quickly became attached to him, treating their relationship as something precious.
Their affair deepened during his stay. When he had to leave, he promised to return, which he did in February. By then, Tanya had grown thin and sad from waiting. Though their reunion seemed awkward at first, they soon resumed their relationship.
On the eve of his second departure, Tanya confronted him about his feelings.
"Petrusha, are you asleep?" He opened his eyes and looked into the light dusk of the room... "No. What is it?" "You don't love me any more, you know, you ruined me for nothing," she said calmly.
Pyotr Nikolayevich reassured her of his love and promised to return in spring for the entire summer. This was February 1917, and he never visited the countryside again.
Detailed summary
Section titles are editorial.
Tanyas appearance and position
Tanya was a young housemaid who worked for Kazakova, a minor landowner and relative of the narrator. She was in her eighteenth year, small in stature with her modest height particularly noticeable when she moved about barefooted in summer or in felt boots during winter. Her small breasts lifted slightly beneath her blouse as she walked. Tanya had a simple face that was merely pleasant-looking, though her gray peasant eyes possessed a beauty that came solely from her youth.
Tanyas acceptance of their relationship
After their first encounter, Tanya quickly came to terms with what had happened between them. Though she cried for several days, she gradually became convinced that it was not a misfortune but good fortune that had befallen her. The narrator grew increasingly dear to her, and during their intimate moments, which soon became more frequent, she called him Petrusha and spoke of that first night as their shared, cherished past.
The unexpected beginning of their affair
Pyotr had been spending the early autumn in Crimea and stopped at Kazakova's estate on his way to Moscow. After a couple of weeks there, on his last day, he went hunting from morning until evening. He returned tired and hungry, ate dinner, and drank vodka while Kazakova talked about her late husband and her two sons who worked in Oryol. Around ten o'clock, the house was already dark except for a candle burning in the study where he stayed.
When he entered the study, Tanya was kneeling on his bedclothes with a candle in hand, passing it over the wall. She explained she was burning a bedbug and quickly ran away. Pyotr lay down without undressing, intending to smoke and think, but immediately fell asleep. He woke briefly to blow out the flickering candle, then slept again. When he next opened his eyes, it was a moonlit night. Needing to use the facilities, he found the back door locked and had to go through the house to the front porch, passing through the hallway where the housemaids slept.
She had begun sobbing quietly on coming to her senses, as if realizing only at that moment what had happened. Yet perhaps not as if, but actually? Her whole body had yielded to him as though lifeless.
Reflections in the moonlit yard
After the unexpected encounter with Tanya, Pyotr went out to the yard, which was brightly lit by the high moon. He sat down beside the coach house on the footboard of a mud-spattered tarantass. The night was warm with the smell of the autumn garden. The majestic, benign night seemed to unite with the feelings he had brought away from his unexpected union with Tanya.
And the night was a strange one somehow. The wide, empty yard, brightly lit by the high moon... And everything around is strange somehow in its nocturnal existence, disengaged from everything human, aimlessly radiant.
He reflected on what had just happened. When Tanya had begun sobbing, he had kissed her neck and breast, which smelled ravishingly of something rural and maidenly. Though half-asleep, she had responded by embracing him tightly. He wondered how he could possibly leave and then forget her, her loving eyes, her simple-hearted little voice.
How could he leave and then remember her only by chance, forget her dear, simple-hearted little voice, her now joyful, now sorrowful, but always loving, devoted eyes, how could he love others and attach to some of them much greater significance than to her!
Growing intimacy and affection
The next day, Tanya served at the table without raising her eyes. When Kazakova asked why she seemed downcast, Tanya replied submissively that she had much to grieve her. After Tanya left the room, Kazakova mentioned to Pyotr that the girl was an orphan with no mother and a destitute, dissolute father. Later, Pyotr told Tanya not to worry, claiming he had fallen in love with her long ago. She responded that if he truly loved her, everything would be easier.
One day, Tanya was sent to town for shopping. With no one available to fetch her from the station, Pyotr volunteered to go, despite the old housemaid's disapproval. He drove through the misty, darkening countryside to the station. When Tanya arrived, she was surprised to see him there. She was dressed up for town in a white silk headscarf, a new brown worsted dress, and new boots with brass heels.
She changed completely with the speed of which youth is capable, she became equable, carelessly happy, already called him Petrusha easily, and sometimes even pretended he was bothering her with his kisses...
A passionate night together
On their drive back through the misty darkness, Pyotr brought the horse to a walk, squeezed Tanya's shoulders, and called her name tenderly. She threw herself at him, pressing her face against his cheek, her eyelashes wet with joyful tears. He found her lips and, stopping the horse, could not tear himself away. Then he got out of the charabanc, threw his coat on the ground, and drew her to him. Understanding immediately, she jumped down and gave herself to him completely.
Pyotr postponed his departure. Tanya knew it was for her sake and saw how affectionate he was with her. She became more comfortable around him, calling him Petrusha easily and sometimes playfully pretending to be bothered by his attentions. She would teasingly express jealousy, saying things like, "Thank God there's no work at the barn, otherwise there'd be young girls about, and I'd show you for hanging around them!" Then, suddenly embarrassed, she would add touchingly, "Aren't I enough for you on my own, then?"
Winter set in early. After the mists came a frosty north wind that hardened the roads and burned the last grass in the garden. The estate and village seemed hopelessly poor and rough. Light snow began to fall, making everything greyish white. One night, during a heavy snowfall, Tanya slipped into Pyotr's room. They embraced passionately, and she whispered, "No one in your life will love you like this."
The inevitable departure
Despite the continuing snowstorm, Pyotr decided he must leave, unable to prolong Tanya's secret torment and his own any longer. He felt a passionate desire to be in Moscow, imagining the snow-covered square, the electric lights, and the Grand Hotel with its chandeliers and music. The night before his departure, he asked Tanya to come to his room when the house was asleep. Though frightened, she agreed.
In the darkness of night, she silently made her way to his room. They lay together, kissing intensely. He lit a candle to see her better, telling her there was no one on earth prettier than her. After they made love, he extinguished the light and lay smoking in silence. Finally, he told her he had to leave soon. She sat up, asking when, and he explained he had pressing business in Moscow. He promised to return for Christmas.
"My God, what ever am I to do?" he thought in despair. "Again these warm childish tears on a child's hot face... She doesn't even suspect all the strength of my love for her! But what can I do? Take her away with me? Where?"
Separation and loneliness
Two days later, Pyotr left despite Kazakova's attempts to persuade him to wait at least until the following day. After his departure, both the house and the estate seemed empty and lifeless to Tanya. She could not even imagine Moscow and his life there, his business of some sort that had taken him away from her.
She sat down on the bed and, pressing her hands to her breast and licking the tears from her lips, to the accompaniment of the humming of the snowstorm in the lobby, she began whispering: "Lord... let it not abate..."
Christmas disappointment
Pyotr did not return for Christmas as promised. Tanya spent the holiday in torment, waiting for him in vain. Throughout Christmas-tide, she wore her best clothes—the same dress and calf-length boots she had worn when he met her at the station that unforgettable autumn evening. At Epiphany, she believed he would arrive at any moment and spent the whole day watching the yard from the hallway locker.
Brief reunion in February
Pyotr finally returned in February, when Tanya had completely lost hope of ever seeing him again. Both were shocked at the changes in each other—she had grown thin and faded, with sad and timid eyes; he seemed older and somehow different, his mustache larger, his voice rougher. His laughter and conversation seemed excessively loud and unnatural to her. Nevertheless, they tried to hide their impressions, and soon things seemed to continue as before.
The final parting in 1917
Once again, the terrible time of Pyotr's departure approached. He swore on an icon that he would return for Holy Week and stay for the entire summer. Tanya believed him but wondered what would happen after summer—would it be the same cycle of separation and agony? On the eve of his departure, she told him he didn't love her anymore and had ruined her for nothing. He denied this and repeated his promise to return.
This was in February of the terrible year of 1917. He was in the countryside then for the last time in his life.