A Cold Autumn (Bunin)
Short summary
Russia, 1914. A young woman spent her last evening with her fiancé before he departed for World War I. During their farewell walk in the cold autumn garden, he asked her not to forget him if he died and promised to wait for her in the afterlife.
The next morning, he left for the front. A month later, he was killed in Galicia.
Thirty years passed. The narrator survived the Russian Revolution, lost her parents, and fled Russia. She remarried, but her second husband died of typhus during their escape to Turkey. She then raised her husband's orphaned niece while working menial jobs across Europe. The girl grew up indifferent to her, while the narrator continued living in Nice, struggling to make ends meet.
Looking back on her life, the narrator realized that only that cold autumn evening with her first love had any real meaning for her.
And I believe, I fervently believe: somewhere there he is waiting for me – with the same love and youth as on that evening. 'You live, be happy in the world, and then come to me...' I have lived, have been happy, and now I shall soon be coming.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
The beginning of war and engagement in 1914
In June 1914, a young man visited the narrator's family estate. He was considered part of the family, as his late father had been a friend and neighbor of the narrator's father. On June 15th, Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo, and the following morning, the narrator's father announced that war was inevitable.
On Peter's Day, during the father's name day celebration, the young man was declared the narrator's fiancé. However, their plans were soon disrupted when Germany declared war on Russia on July 19th. The couple's wedding was postponed until the following spring, as everyone believed the war would end quickly.
The farewell evening before he leaves for war
In September, the fiancé returned to the family estate for just twenty-four hours to say goodbye before departing for the front. During their farewell evening, the family gathered for supper followed by tea from the samovar. Looking at the windows that had misted over from the steam, the father remarked on the unusually early cold autumn.
The evening was quiet, with family members exchanging only occasional, deliberately calm words to conceal their true feelings. The narrator approached the balcony door and wiped the glass with her handkerchief, revealing a black sky filled with clear, icy stars. Her father reclined in an armchair smoking, while her mother mended a small silk pouch that would hold a gold icon for the fiancé to wear during the war.
Father was lying back in an armchair smoking, gazing absent-mindedly at the hot lamp that hung above the table, and under its light Mama, wearing glasses, was diligently mending a little silk pouch – we knew what it was, and it was both touching and horrible.
After the parents retired for the night, the young couple remained in the dining room. The narrator pretended to play patience while her fiancé paced silently before suggesting they go for a walk. In the hall, he recited lines from Fet's poetry about the cold autumn, expressing both sadness and happiness at their love.
They walked into the garden where it was initially so dark that the narrator held onto his sleeve. As their eyes adjusted, they could see black branches against the lightening sky, sprinkled with stars. The fiancé turned toward the house, noting how the windows shone in a particular autumnal way. He embraced her and kissed her, then asked if she would forget him if he were killed.
'Well then, if I'm killed, I'll wait for you there. You live, be happy in the world, and then come to me.' I began crying bitterly...
His departure and death in Galicia
The next morning, the fiancé departed. The narrator's mother placed the silk pouch containing the family's gold icon around his neck. This icon had been worn by her father and grandfather in previous wars. The family made the sign of the cross over him with a sense of desperate impulsiveness.
After he left, they stood on the porch for a while, feeling the strange disconnect between their grief and the beautiful, sunny morning that glittered with frost on the grass. The narrator wandered through the empty house, unsure whether to sob or sing at the top of her voice.
One month later, the fiancé was killed in Galicia. The narrator reflected on the strangeness of that word - "killed" - and how thirty years had passed since that time, years filled with experiences that seemed incomprehensible to both mind and heart.
Her life over thirty years of exile and hardship
By spring 1918, both the narrator's parents had died. She was living in a basement in Moscow with a tradeswoman from the Smolensk Market who mocked her former status. To survive, she sold her remaining possessions to soldiers at the market.
There she met a middle-aged retired military man of fine character whom she soon married. In April, they left for Yekaterinodar, traveling for two weeks disguised as a peasant woman and a Cossack. They spent more than two years in the Don and Kuban regions.
During a winter hurricane, they sailed from Novorossiisk to Turkey with countless other refugees. Tragically, her husband died of typhus during the journey. After his death, only three people remained dear to her: her husband's nephew, his wife, and their seven-month-old daughter.
Eventually, the nephew and his wife left the child with the narrator and sailed to Crimea to join Wrangel's forces, where they subsequently disappeared. The narrator remained in Constantinople, supporting herself and the child through hard labor.
Over the years, she and the child wandered through Bulgaria, Serbia, Czechia, Belgium, Paris, and Nice. The girl grew up in Paris, becoming completely French and indifferent to the narrator. She worked in a chocolate shop near the Madeleine, while the narrator continued to live in Nice, struggling to make ends meet.
Reflection on the true meaning of her life
The narrator reflected that she had first visited Nice in 1912, never imagining what the city would come to mean for her. Despite all she had endured, she survived the death of her fiancé, though she had once declared she would not survive it.
And thus I survived his death, having once precipitately said that I would not survive it. But, recalling all that I have lived through since then, I always ask myself: yes, and what has there been in my life after all?
Looking back on her life, she concluded that only that cold autumn evening with her fiancé had any real meaning. Everything else was merely an unwanted dream. She believed fervently that somewhere he was waiting for her with the same love and youth as on that evening.
And I answer myself: only that cold autumn evening. Did it really once happen? And after all, it did. And that is all there has been in my life – the rest is an unwanted dream.
Remembering his words - "You live, be happy in the world, and then come to me" - she felt she had fulfilled her part. She had lived and found moments of happiness, and now she would soon be joining him.