Calling Cards (Bunin)
Short summary
Russia, early autumn, 1940s. On the nearly empty steamboat Goncharov traveling down the Volga River, a famous writer in his thirties met a woman passenger from third class. The previous evening, they had spoken briefly on deck, where she had become flustered upon learning his identity and had confided about her unhappy marriage to a provincial secretary.
The next morning, they met again on deck. The writer invited her to lunch, where they drank vodka and became increasingly familiar. She confessed her girlhood dream of having calling cards despite her family's poverty. Her vulnerability and boldness aroused the writer's desire, and he invited her to his cabin.
And he made her experience that extreme shamelessness which so ill became her, and which for that reason so aroused him with pity, tenderness, passion... in rapturous horror she cast sidelong glances at them when she heard the sound of carefree voices...
Afterward, she lay pale and tranquil on the bunk. When the steamboat reached her destination that evening, the writer kissed her hand with a love he knew would remain in his heart forever. Without looking back, she disembarked and disappeared into the crowd on the jetty.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Setting and characters on the autumn Volga steamboat
The steamboat Goncharov traveled down the Volga River during early autumn. Cold weather had set in, with a freezing wind blowing across the river. The boat was nearly empty, with only a group of peasants on the lower deck and three passengers on the upper deck: two inconspicuous second-class travelers who always walked together, and a first-class passenger, a recently famous writer.
The writer paced the deck alone, breathing in the powerful autumn air. While standing at the stern watching the river, he noticed a woman emerging from the lower deck. She wore a cheap black hat and had a hollow-cheeked, sweet face. He recognized her as the woman he had met by chance the previous evening. They approached each other, both smiling, as she struggled against the wind in her light coat.
Previous evenings acquaintance and conversation
The writer had thought about the woman during the night. Their acquaintance had begun by chance the previous evening at the steamboat's side. They had sat together on deck, though not for long, which he later regretted. During their conversation, he had asked about her personal life, following his usual pattern with female admirers.
She had told him she was returning from visiting her sister in Sviyazhsk, whose husband had died suddenly, leaving her in a difficult situation. When asked about her own marriage, she had replied with a strange grin that she had married too early and experienced nothing in life. Her husband was the secretary of their District Land Board - a good and kind but completely uninteresting man.
"And I've still experienced nothing in life, nothing!" "It's still not too late to experience things." And at that point, with a grin, she had suddenly shaken her head: "And I will!"
Morning reunion and meal with vodka
The writer greeted the woman loudly, asking how she had slept. She replied cheerfully that she always slept well. He held her hand and looked into her eyes, addressing her with familiarity. When she mentioned she had been daydreaming, he jokingly warned her about the dangers, to which she responded that she was waiting for danger. He suggested they have vodka and fish soup, thinking she probably couldn't afford lunch herself.
In the dining room, they drank vodka with cold caviar and hot bread. The writer was increasingly excited by the contradiction between her appearance and her familiar behavior. He knew why she attracted him and impatiently awaited the conclusion of their encounter. Her confusion when learning his identity the previous day had pleased him, as it always did with female admirers, creating an immediate intimacy.
"You know," she said suddenly, "there we were talking about dreams: do you know what I dreamt of most of all as a schoolgirl? Ordering myself calling cards! ... how I dreamt! It's dreadfully silly..."
The writer was moved by her frankness about her family life and age, and by her sudden boldness. The vodka had given her a slight flush, turning her pale lips pink and filling her eyes with a sleepy, mocking gleam. When she shared her girlhood dream of having calling cards despite her family's poverty, he took her firmly by the hand. Misunderstanding his intentions, she raised his hand to her lips and looked at him languorously. He suggested they go to his cabin, and she agreed.
Intimate encounter in the writers cabin
In the corridor, the writer put his arms around the woman. She looked at him proudly and voluptuously over her shoulder. With passionate hatred and love, he almost bit her on the cheek, and she offered her lips to him in a Bacchic manner.
Inside the dimly lit cabin with the window grille lowered, she quickly undressed, eager to please him and make full use of this unexpected happiness with a handsome, strong, and famous man. She removed her dress and undergarments, standing naked except for her stockings and shoes. The writer was pierced by the innocence of it all as he watched her.
In the half-light of the cabin... she at once unbuttoned and trampled on the dress that fell off her onto the floor... and he was agonizingly pierced by the innocence of it all.
Her body appeared younger and better than he had expected. Though thin with prominent collarbones and ribs matching her thin face and slender shins, she had surprisingly large hips. Her belly was sunken with a small, deep navel, and she had abundant dark hair both on her head and below. As she took the pins from her hair, it fell thickly onto her thin back. When she bent to pull up her stockings, her small breasts hung down like skinny little pears.
The writer made her experience extreme shamelessness that ill-suited her character but aroused his pity, tenderness, and passion. She cast fearful glances at the window when hearing footsteps and voices of people passing by on the deck, which increased her rapturous depravity. Afterward, he laid her on the bunk like a dead woman. She lay with closed eyes, gritting her teeth, her face pale and youthful with mournful tranquility.
Afterwards he laid her on the bunk like a dead woman. Gritting her teeth, she lay with closed eyes and already with mournful tranquillity on her face, pale now, and utterly youthful.
Parting at the steamboats stop
In the evening, the steamboat moored at the woman's destination. She stood beside the writer, quiet with lowered eyelashes. He kissed her cold little hand with a love that would remain in his heart for the rest of his life. Without looking back, she ran down the gangway into the crowd on the jetty, disappearing from his life as suddenly as she had entered it.
Just before evening, when the steamboat moored... he kissed her cold little hand with that love which remains somewhere in the heart all one's life, and she, without looking back, ran down the gangway into the rough crowd on the jetty.