Chapter 51: The Moving Feast

All in all, Mikhail did not place much importance on the first high-society gala he was about to attend; after all, integrating into a circle that was not his own often required flattery and a thick skin unafraid of humiliation, and Mikhail possessed neither of these things, so he had naturally prepared himself to sit on the sidelines.

Moreover, in these current years, most nobles were full of notions of hierarchy and an awareness of their own noble dignity.

Just as Panayev recounted his childhood stories, when he was twelve, influenced by those around him, he even refused to study alongside children of intellectuals and artisans who were not of noble birth; and this thought of his was not only considered entirely reasonable, but when his relatives spoke of the matter to their acquaintances, they would even say with great pride:

"Do not look at him as just a child, yet how noble his sentiments are!"

Of course, Panayev is not like that now, but from this one can roughly see what the thinking of nobles in this era was like.

Mikhail did not care, but Turgenev, who had recently become increasingly close to Mikhail, was arranging this matter for him:

"Dear Mikhail, I know a gentleman of your noble character probably would not be willing to sell his dignity for a little attention and fame, but how can one be so careless? After all, it is a good opportunity to expand one's network; you know, without various kinds of connections, a person simply cannot survive at all in St. Petersburg!

It is always good to get to know more people. Your current attire is certainly not acceptable; I know you might not be very well-off, so let me pay first to buy you a presentable suit! You must strive to show yourself, old friend; with your looks and talent, it is not impossible for some Young Lady to take a fancy to you, and then you will never worry about food or drink!"

Turgenev was certainly well-intentioned, but Mikhail was paying more attention to another question:

"Dear Ivan, I recall you have already spent all your money, haven't you? Did your mother send you money again?"

"Of course not." The tall Turgenev showed a hearty smile: "Rest assured, I borrowed a little from others; when my mother sends me money again, I will just repay this debt."

Mikhail: "?"

My good brother, going into debt to buy me clothes.

Since a good brother is so righteous, Mikhail naturally had to decline, but Turgenev had already made up his mind, and had even brought the clothes for Mikhail; compared to Mikhail, he who had long mingled in high society naturally knew better what kind of dressing was more likable.

And facing Mikhail's refusal, Turgenev waved his hand to let Mikhail rest assured, while also speaking with a touch of emotion: "Mikhail, tell me, when will I ever receive my family's money? When I have money then, I will definitely set aside a sum specifically; in the future, if anyone has any difficulties, they can all come to me."

Soon, brother, really soon; just don't know whether you will feel more pain or more relief when that time comes.

Turgenev's mother could be counted as a cruel noble whose noble concepts were deeply ingrained in her bones, focusing entirely on the Authentic method; although my Brother Turgenev still had quite a bit of noble habits on him now, he was generally a very progressive person, which led to the divergence between him and his mother becoming increasingly severe, to the point that even on her deathbed she cursed him:

"You will regret betraying your own class!"

As for the current situation, roughly speaking, Turgenev's mother wanted to use money to control her two sons, making them forever bow their heads and submit to her arrangements, so she was quite strict with them financially, to the point that Turgenev's elder brother was already struggling on the poverty line.

It was even said that Turgenev's mother, on her deathbed, was still considering how to make her two sons fall into ruin; she once wanted the steward to sell the estate at a low price or set it on fire.

This contained too many complex emotions; exactly how, and with exactly what kind of feelings one should feel, perhaps only Turgenev himself knew.

By the way, the first thing my Brother Turgenev did after receiving the inheritance was to liberate the serfs under his command, and even provided them protection in his capacity as a noble, practically demonstrating his opposition to serfdom.

At the same time, he also transformed into the Russian version of Song Jiang the Timely Rain; often, the money he spent on others was more than what he spent on himself; relying on this righteousness and his outstanding writing ability, my Brother Turgenev step by step walked onto the path of becoming the leader of the literary world.

So, returning to the main topic, since Turgenev was so insistent, Mikhail did not decline further; he would just repay it as soon as he had money.

But it must be said, the speed at which Mikhail becomes rich is likely to be faster than Turgenev's; by then, a role reversal is estimated to occur.

After sighing slightly like that, as the evening gala approached, Mikhail struggled to change his clothes.

In the current Russian high society, French-style formal wear was still the mainstream; male nobles generally wore a tight long coat, with the collar and cuffs decorated with gold thread embroidery or jewels, the fabric mostly using velvet, brocade, or silk, followed by a waistcoat, and then silk breeches.

And since the current ruler, Nicholas I, loved wearing military uniforms to attend various venues, those below naturally also caught this habit; plus, there were indeed many nobles who concurrently served as officers, so in formal occasions, nobles often wore double-breasted coats paired with sashes and medals.

The color tones were mostly dominated by dark colors like ink green and deep blue; people of the court, to highlight their status, mostly used colors symbolizing power like gold and purple.

Of course, due to status issues and my Brother Turgenev's financial problems, Mikhail certainly would not dress too grandly; it was presentable enough, but it definitely could not compare to those flashy noble lords, and this level was just right in Mikhail's eyes.

And when Mikhail put on these clothes, since he was already not bad-looking, the feeling he gave was quite good; the old mother stared tightly at Mikhail wearing this outfit, her eyes slightly moist, as if she saw her son's bright future not far away.

Walking out of his small room, the old maid Nastasya soon poked her head out, and the other people in the apartment also issued friendly teasing:

"Dear Mikhail, I dare bet that today you will surely win the hearts of many Misses."

"I don't need you to tell me what you are going to do; sigh! I was once young like you!"

"Mikhail, for the first time I feel you look like a university student; one might even say you look a bit like a noble lord!"

"Will you be coming back tonight, Mikhail? I think you are probably going to spend the night elsewhere!"

Slightly embarrassedly responding to these teases, Mikhail finally arrived downstairs; not long after, a carriage that looked reasonably comfortable appeared on this already dim street; after it stopped steadily, Turgenev, dressed like a colorful peacock, poked his head out of the carriage and then waved to Mikhail.

And as this young man with black eyes and brown hair walked forward, he turned his head back to look several times in succession; his eyes reflected his excited mother and his restrained sister, reflected the old maid, the strong landlord, the small landowner, the small merchant, and the small civil official; he also looked at St. Petersburg, which was gradually being swallowed by darkness; on such a deep night, only the gilded Winter Palace of the Tsar and the core area of St. Petersburg were still brightly lit.

He paused slightly, waved his hand, and then got into the carriage; the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels was heavy and powerful, carrying him from this dim and dilapidated street all the way into the clean and wide avenue; the surroundings became cleaner and cleaner, the lights became brighter and brighter, the drunkards, beggars, and prostitutes of St. Petersburg gradually disappeared until there were none left, as if they had never existed at all.

When he got off the carriage, what came into his view was a bright stone building of three to four stories; at the entrance there seemed to be a Persian red carpet; on both sides stood servants with indistinct expressions; gentlemen and ladies in bright clothes walked towards the inside; from far away, one could still hear a few sentences of the Authentic method of French from their mouths.

Mikhail and the slightly excited Turgenev also walked inside.

In the past, Mikhail was actually quite lively, but at this very moment he had rarely calmed down, merely looking around with great curiosity and listening to the conversations of the people around him.

Everything before his eyes seemed to be sparkling, but he possessed a pair of equally bright black eyes.

(End of this chapter)