Summary:
It was said that a new lady and her dog had arrived in Yalta. Dmitri Dmitritch Gurov had been in Yalta for two weeks by at that point, and he was interested in new arrivals. He noticed this lady walking on the sea-front, in the gardens, and in the square several times a day. She was a young, fair-haired lady, always alone except for her white Pomeranian dog. Gurov decided that if she was there with neither friends nor a husband, then he should make her acquaintance. Gurov was under forty with a twelve-year-old daughter and two sons in school. He got married young to a tall, dignified woman with dark eyebrows and intellectual inclinations. He did not like her very much and thus spent little time at home. He was often unfaithful to her and had been for a long time. Perhaps a result of this, he spoke ill of women, occasionally referring to them as "the lower race." At the same time, however, he was entirely dependent on the company of women. He felt freer and better able to socialize with women than with men. Something about his personality and appearance attracted women to him, and he felt the same way about women.
Bitter experience had taught him long ago that intimacy, which first appears so agreeable, ends up causing trouble. Yet whenever Gurov saw a new and attractive woman, the lessons of experience went out the window.
One day while Gurov was dining in the gardens, the lady with the dog sat down at a table nearby. Gurov could tell from her appearance and her mannerisms that she was married, alone in Yalta for the first time, and not having a very exciting time there. Gurov usually felt contemptuous of the tales and rumors of love affairs in Yalta, but, looking at this woman, he was tempted by the promise of those stories.
Gurov beckoned to the dog and it came over to say hello. Gurov asked the woman if he could give it a bone, and when she said yes, they struck up a conversation. After dinner, they went on a walk together, talking with ease and comfort despite having only just met. They discussed the weather and scenery in Yalta; they discussed Gurov's birthplace, Moscow, and the lady's birthplace, Petersburg; Gurov learned that the woman was called Anna Sergeyevna. That night, alone in the hotel, Gurov thought about her. He knew they would meet again the next day. Anna was so young—not too far from the age of Gurov's own daughter. He thought about her delicate neck and gray eyes. He thought there was something pathetic about her, and he fell asleep.
A week later, it was a windy, dry day, and Gurov went to have a drink with Anna. In the evening, they went out to the port to see a ship arrive. There were crowds of people there out to welcome the passengers on the ship. Anna was distracted and flustered in the crowds. As it became dark, the crowd dispersed, but Gurov and Anna remained. Then, Gurov kissed Anna, and they went back to her hotel to make love. Gurov had memories of many women in the past, but none had the awkward youthfulness of Anna. After they finished, she immediately became mournful and regretful, saying that Gurov must despise her now. She regretted doing this, she said, not just to her husband but also to herself. Gurov became bored listening to her but comforted her until she became cheerful again.
They went out at dawn and took a cab to Oreanda. Gurov found out Anna's husband's last name: Von Diderits. Together, they sat and looked at the sea. Yalta was partially obscured by the mist. The sounds of the grasshoppers and the sea signaled peace and emptiness—a time before Yalta. Those sounds would continue after Yalta was gone. Gurov thought that this was a lesson about human insignificance and the ceaseless progress of time. Sitting next to Anna, he thought that everything was beautiful.
Thereafter, they met every day at noon on the seafront. They had lunch and took walks together. Anna often was jealous, accusing Gurov of not respecting her. He would often kiss her passionately when no one was around. He was a changed man, constantly telling her how beautiful she was. Every evening, they would go on a drive to a different beautiful landscape. Then, a letter came from Anna's husband, saying that something was wrong with his eyes and Anna should come home immediately. They said goodbye as Anna boarded the coach. She did not cry, but she was very sad. She told Gurov that she would remember him but that they were parting forever. The train had soon vanished, and Gurov was left on the platform. He thought that this episode of his life had come to an end. Even though he was genuinely affectionate with Anna, she had not been happy. His affection was the slightly ironic, condescending warmth of an older man. She had always thought highly of him, seeing him differently from how he really was—he had deceived her. It was high time, he told himself, that he went back to Moscow.
Analysis:
As the story begins, the narrator depicts Gurov as a man full of paradoxes: he opportunistically seeks out an affair, but he has little regard for the woman herself. He admits that he has little regard for women in general, yet he also thrives on female attention. The minute he is satisfied that the lady with the dog is alone, with neither husband nor friends, his mind turns to the rumors of "immorality" that swirl around Yalta. He is tempted by the "thought of a swift, fleeting love affair, a romance with an unknown woman." To him, this romance need not involve commitment or mutual respect: just as he fantasizes about the lady with the dog's "slender, delicate neck, her lovely grey eyes," he also deems her pathetic. Either way, he is determined to pursue her.
As the story progresses, Gurov retains this paradoxical approach to the affair. On the one hand, he whole-heartedly pursues the consummation of the affair. He initiates this first by kissing Anna in public and then by suggesting that they go to her hotel. On the other hand, once he has achieved this goal, while still in her hotel room, he coolly compares Anna to other women he has slept with throughout his life. She is different from all of them, he decides, but only in that she is "somehow peculiar." Already, Gurov recognizes his boredom. As she opens up to him, confessing her shame over their affair, he is "irritated by the naive tone, by this remorse." From his point of view, this is "inopportune."
Gurov's treatment of Anna comes off as condescending and dismissive. The narrator depicts a selfish purpose for pursuing the affair: he desires the fleeting intimacy that his life otherwise lacks. Gurov, however, is a self-aware character: at the end of this first half of the text, as he says goodbye to Anna for what he believes to be the last time, he admits to himself that he has not been entirely authentic with her. He believes "he had unintentionally deceived her" by treating her with "a shade of light irony." In this way, Gurov seems to recognize his own paradoxical approach to his affair with Anna: he is dependent on her for intimacy and excitement, but he is also unable to bring his authentic self to the relationship.
However, this superficiality is only one side of Gurov's character. In addition to his concern for female attention, Gurov also has the capacity to experience deep and authentic emotion. Sitting on the bench overlooking the sea with Anna, Gurov is overcome with feeling. The sounds and images of the ocean seem to contain a lesson about the monotony and progress of life. These "magical surroundings" are mirrored by the "lovely, soothed, and spellbound" young woman sitting beside him. Overcome by emotion, Gurov muses that "everything is beautiful upon reflection." This scene suggests a more authentic bond between him and Anna than might otherwise be apparent. This transcendent moment seems out of place for a character who is otherwise described as a womanizer who finds intimacy and authenticity difficult. By embracing this tension, Chekhov opens up the possibility of a more nuanced reading of Gurov's character. Indeed, throughout the text, Gurov grapples with the tension between authenticity and deception.
